#x fem!reader

[honey-on-your-tongue]

Size kink with Simon Riley (nsfw)

There is little Simon likes more than being bigger than you. (Regardless of your size babes).

He's a ginormous man. Extremely tall, extremely broad, muscled, strong. And God, he loves having you know it.

He fucks you from behind, groaning at how your pussy has to stretch so much to fit his thick cock.

Huge hand wrapped around your neck while he fucks you, his other hand on your hip as he thrusts hard and deep. “Oh, baby. Look at you, struggling to take me, hm?”

You whimper, trembling. He's so big, so so big. You can feel his strength, the sheer size of him driving you crazy.

Without breaking a sweat, Simon pulls out, flips you over and slips his cock back into your cunt. He loves manhandling you, loves the way you have no time to react as he just puts you in the position he wants.

“You love it when I just toss you around, don't you? Such a dirty girl,” he says,laughing lowly, as one of his huge hands moves to press down on your lower stomach, making you feel even fuller. His thumb moves to play with your clit, making your pussy clench him tighter.

“Fuck. Fuck, pussy's too tight, baby. Oh, God. You gotta let up, or I'm gonna come in this pretty cunt. If you make me come, I'm gonna make you suck my cock, and I know your pretty little mouth struggles with that, hm? Wouldn't wanna make your gorgeous lips struggle to fit my cock, baby.”

But you just can't help it. He's just so much bigger, and you just can't fit him. No matter how much you try.

And he knows it. And he'll take advantage of it.

---

Taglist

@booboobear-12 @lilychristine01 @smzyyx @mxsatorisimp @akkahelenaa @crypticlxrsh @m-0-ssy-m-3-ss @actualpoppy @dawnnightshade666 @dethspllz @massivecandycrusade @mentally-unstable-hottie13 @shushyoudontknowme @readinggeeklmao @despairingrat @h0lydrag0ns @poseidonsbichild @Iiidiaaag @sillylittlereader @vanillarosekiss @jangles-the-clown @lem-hhn @doubledizzy22 @http-bell @readingthingy @velvetdimond @thegaywitchofwhimsy @weaniebeaniebaby @havoc973 @lucienofthelakes @keiminds @8pmismybedtime @i-wanabe-yours

*if you wanna be added to my Ghost taglist, lmk ❤️

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Blog masterlist

[xobunni0]

CLOSE ₊˚⊹ᰔ min su x f!reader

naked cuddling, cock warming, non game au

‘you’re all I need, every time I get a bit inside I feel it.’

min su’s breath tickled the back of your neck, quick and uneven. his body was so warm behind you, his chest pressed flush to your back, his arm tucked under your head the way it always was when he wanted to keep you close for hours.

his cock was buried deep inside you, thick and full, snug in the wet warmth of your pussy. it wasn’t about having sex. not tonight. this was your quiet little routine, something intimate and sweet that made his heart race more than anything else. just being inside you, with the occasional slow clench you didn’t even realize you were doing until he whimpered against your shoulder

you shifted a little, trying to get comfortable, and the small motion, your ass pressing tighter against his hips, your pussy gripping him just slightly harder from the angle change, pulled a trembling gasp from his lips.

“Baby…” he groaned “feel like I’m gonna cum already.”

you could feel his cock twitch inside you, the slightest tremor of his hips showing how close he was to cumming even without a single stroke. you smiled into the crook of his bicep

“You’re so sensitive” you murmured, rocking your hips just slightly back into him, and he gasped, actually gasped, a sharp quick breath “we’re not even moving.”

he let out a shaky laugh, but it quickly turned into a groan, his forehead pressing into your shoulder as he tried, tried so hard, to hold still. his cock throbbed, nestled in your pussy, his hand squeezing your waist like that might somehow help him. but he was already losing it

“Mm fuck, don’t move like that. don’t…” he whispered, his voice was more of a whine, like even saying the words made him throb harder “you feel so good, you don’t even know…”

“Tell me” you said softly, shifting again not out of cruelty, just looking for that perfect nestled angle, but you knew what you were doing, and so did he

he whimpered. his cock twitched inside you like it was begging to cum, his breath catching softly

“you’re all warm. fuck, tight and- shit I can feel everything” he panted, hips twitching once against your ass before he forced himself to hold still again

you reached back, lovingly stroking your fingers over his hip, his thigh, touching him like he was some trembling thing, and he was. he absolutely was

“I love when you stay inside me like this” you whispered, and he moaned “love how soft you get after, how you shake when you’re trying to hold it.”

“please” he hissed through his teeth, trembling all over now. his cock was aching, you could feel it, the base grinding deeper from a single unconscious buck of his hips. he was going to cum, from nothing but you being there, around him.

you clenched around him once, slowly, your pussy tightening around him in a way that made him choke on a moan

“f-fuck, I’m- baby, I’m gonna…”

and he was cumming. buried deep inside, still not thrusting at all. he let out a helpless cry muffled against your shoulder, his cock filling you up with his cum, hips twitching in small helpless motions. he didn't move, he didn’t have to. his whole body was tensing, overwhelmed by how perfect it felt to cum inside you like this

you turned your face just enough to kiss the side of his jaw, and he clung to you, breath ragged, moaning low as he kept cumming

eventually, after some long seconds, he stopped. twitching now and then inside you, his breath warm against your neck

“fuck” he whispered “I didn’t even move.”

“You never do” you teased, kissing his wrist where it lay across your chest, holding you. “And you never last.”

“Don’t need to” he murmured back, shifting even closer, cock still nestled inside you, now soaked and softening “You’re too good.”

he pressed one last kiss to the side of your neck and sighed, eyes already closed shut again, so content, so full, so undone by just being with you.

𝐥𝐢𝐤𝐞𝐬, 𝐜𝐨𝐦𝐦𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐬 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐫𝐞𝐛𝐥𝐨𝐠𝐬 𝐚𝐫𝐞 𝐚𝐩𝐩𝐫𝐞𝐜𝐢𝐚𝐭𝐞𝐝 - 𓊆ྀི𝐝𝐨𝐥𝐥𝐢𝐞𓊇ྀི

[rhettrosunsets]

Rainy Day Naps - Robert Reynolds X Fem!Reader

Pairing: Robert Reynolds X Fem!Reader

Category: Fluff!

Summary: It's a stormy day at the tower, and when you walk out to see your boyfriend laying cozily on the couch with a book in his hand, you have one mission. To join him and take the best nap you've ever had.

Masterlist

Warnings: Reader wears Bob's hoodie and it is described as being oversized and going to her thigh. No description of reader outside of the hoodie mention. No use of Y/N. Bob calls the reader petnames such as sweetheart.

Notes: This is super short and fluffy. I get super tired when it rains and I just wanted to do a cute rainy day drabble where Bob reads to reader. I just know his voice would be so soothing to fall asleep to.

The sky outside was a darkened gray.

Thunder violently rolled in the distance, it's loud booms clear as day as they echoed throughout the tower. It had been storming all day, a violent gray and the patter of rain present since the early morning.

The storm didn't look like it was going to let up anytime soon, as flashes of lightning danced across the afternoon sky as you wandered into the living room of the tower. Your feet were clad in some fuzzy socks that Bob had gotten you, and your oversized hoodie that you stole from Bob brushing your thighs as the sleeves swayed with each step you took.

Bob was laying on the couch, one arm tucked behind his head, a book propped in the other. The golden desk light on next to him making everything look softer. The room was a soft yellow and he looked so warm, and so inviting. You were on a mission now.

You padded over silently and climbed onto the couch without a word being muttered. You pressed yourself into the space between Bob and the couch cushions, trying to get as close as possible. His arm immediately shifted from behind his head moving to curl around your waist and pulling you in as if he’d been waiting for you.

He held you close to him, a soft sigh escaping him as you settled. You pressed your face into the soft cotton of his sweater, breathing in the soft smell of detergent and his cologne.

“Hey, sweetheart. Is everything okay?” he murmured softly, his voice filled with gentle concern as he kissed the top of your head.

“You looked comfy. Wanted to join you, the rains making me tired.” you whispered against his chest causing him to laugh softly, knowing how tired the storms can get you.

He grabbed the blanket draped over the back of the couch and pulled it around the two of you, softly tucking it around your shoulders. Rain pattered loudly against the window, the thunder still booming loudly outside the tower.

Bob’s fingers softly stroked up and down your spine, his hand sneaking under the hoodie you stole from him, his touch slow and soothing and his hand warm against your cool skin. While his other hand still held the book he had been reading before you joined him.

“Do you want me to read to you, Sweetheart?” he asked softly, making sure to keep his voice low and steady, as you seem so relaxed.

You nod against his chest eagerly, but too comfortable to speak. Bob reading to you is one of your favorite things in the world, his voice always soothing and comforting. It’s like he could stop all your worries with just the soft rumble of his voice and his hands on your back.

 His voice rumbled, a soft sound as you lay on his chest while he reads to you. You don’t catch every word, your brain a little fuzzy from how safe and peaceful you feel in your boyfriend's arms.

The sound of his voice enough to make you slowly doze off as the rain kept its angry tempo, while the thunder kept rolling in every few minutes creating the perfect atmosphere for your nap.

Between paragraphs he kissed your forehead while his fingers softly traced along your arm and up your back. His touch was so gentle and made you feel treasured as he held you in his arms.

You tilted your chin up tiredly, your eyes closed and he smiled knowingly that you wanted a kiss, before bending his neck to press the sweetest kiss to your lips.

“I love rainy days with you” you murmured, your voice thick with exhaustion. He nuzzled your head gently, keeping his voice at a soft whisper “Me too, sweetheart.” 

Outside, the storm continued to rage on. But inside the tower it was nothing but warmth and safety as the gentle sound of Bob’s heart beneath your ear lulled you into the best sleep you’ve ever had.

[l0s3rd0wnt0wn]

You were very good about leaving me alone all my life…why don't you do it again, please (Black Reader to Bruce)

"DEAR OLD DAD?"

You finally got the promotion you've been waiting for at Wayne Enterprises for I don't know how long, but finally, the company's boss notices you. Bruce notices you, which is crazy because there are millions of workers around, but he notices you. You're lucky, and honestly, he gives you your very late and awaited promotion. With that life-changing information, you go off to get some beers with your friends, not knowing that certain masked vigilantes are watching you in the shadows. You're drunk, hiccuping, flushed, small and red if you look very closely, with a wide smile and dilated eyes—far too many beers to think of. Your friend ends up dropping you off at your dingy apartment. You flop onto your couch, excited, with your cat purring in your lap.

You see a dark silhouette on your balcony. Not knowing any better, you call out. Bruce tries to ignore you and get off the balcony, but you've already spotted him, and you're not letting him escape. In your mind, holy shit, Batman is on my balcony, and oh my God, Batman's on my balcony! So he stands there, completely paralyzed as you waddle over to your balcony window, opening it up for the caped crusader. "Want a beer?" you slur your words. Bruce doesn't answer as he watches you waddle back to your refrigerator, opening cans of beer and cheap snacks stacked in your fridge. My God, how do you survive like that? There's not a single green thing in there.

You come back with two beers; Bruce doesn't touch his, but you're taking a complete swig out of yours. "Holy shit, Batman's in my apartment!" you laugh, finally falling into his lap, beer still in hand. You tell him about your day and how you got your very awaited promotion that you've been waiting years for, and it finally appears. Bruce feels like a proud father, but you obviously don't know who the man under the mask is. You think you're hallucinating Batman in your apartment, but you're too drunk to care. You keep rambling about your day on his lap as Bruce combs through your curls. He feels so safe around you, so happy around you; it's like he can just take off his mask in front of you. Until he does, and you're completely gobsmacked that Batman is Bruce Wayne, and it's the same Bruce Wayne who just gave you your very awaited promotion.

You're jumping up and down with glee and joy, crying with happy adult tears. He wants you to put your beer down on the coffee table, his untouched with yours half-empty. He wants to drop the news on you; he wants to tell you everything: how you were his child, how he ignored you for a long portion of your life, and how he's back now wanting to make everything better. He wants to tell you everything, but a part of him doesn't want to know your reaction. He can't take it, but it needs to be done. He can't keep a secret from you like this; it hurts him, but it's going to hurt you even more if you know this information. He can't live a lie, and he won't let you.

So he confesses every single detail about how you're his child, about the fling he had in college that includes your mother, how he remembers your mom's name, and how he figured out you were his kid. It was simple math and a whole lot of invading privacy. He confesses like it's a church confession, and you're the priest. On the other hand, you get up off his lap, your head down, and grab the beer off the coffee table, taking another swig. "Why can't you just let me enjoy myself?" you say in a broken voice. You didn't want to get this promotion out of pity; you did this through hard work. You're telling me all it took for you to get that uplifting you need is to be Bruce Wayne's kid? You felt like all your hard work to win prizes and get into university was absolutely nothing.

"Why did you have to ruin this for me? Why couldn't you just ignore me like you always did?" You didn't want a father; you didn't need one; you didn't crave one. So why was he here now, caring so much? Now you need a stupid pity party? You just wanted to be seen for your work; so does it not even matter now that you're Bruce Wayne's kid? "I didn't need a dad; I grew up by myself. I did everything by myself. I never needed one then, so I sure as hell don't need one now." He wants to get closer to you; the cold weather of the suit will give you the warmth that he knows you need. You're not a Wayne; you're not some trust fund baby. But once this gets reaching out to the press and once your coworkers know, you're not a hard worker—you're just some dumb nepo baby with everything handed to them by dear old dad.

[thelunaticself]

ACCIDENTAL TENDER

simon riley x reader

hookups have consequences.

a/n: gawd i caved. price fic soon promise

cw: mentions of sex, masturbation, age gap

Simon thought he fell asleep in a construction site last night when the first ray of consciousness hit him. A whirlwind of sensory overload accompanied by a banging headache. Never again. He has to learn to say no to that stupid Scot next time the bastard dragged him to the bar and fixed up a bird for him. 

“Yer gonna die alone at this point, Lt.”

Yeah. Right. 

His eyes dart over next to him on the bed, half expectant to find nothing, the other half hopes it’s still nothing. The cold pillow and hollow space greet him in delight. Except the whirring sound of his washing machine snaps him out of his hungover daze. It’s not laundry day yet. His pillow hits the ground with a thud as Simon rolls out of bed with an annoyed sigh. Did someone really lose their mind to try to break into his house this early? Even the neighbors follow the silent rules to let the man do whatever he wants around here, eyes and mouth shut tight. Never get invited to community dinner. Simon expects that much. He sighs again when he stumbles into the kitchen, mid-way to the laundry. There is no thief. Well, not the bad kind at least. 

“Um, good morning…I made pancakes.”

A screech of the chair and dishes clashing. Soft delicate fingers brush against his calloused one when she presses the plate with a heavy stack of pancakes in it. She steps back a bit to look at him, trying to gauge his emotion. Simon stares at the plate for a bit. The bits are a bit burnt, there are uneven and rough edges, like someone flipped them too clumsily. He hasn’t even commented on how she unashamedly took one of his shirts and wears it so pretty like that. So much for a hookup.

Words flow smoothly with a full stomach. It’s as smooth as it gets for Simon at least.

“ ‘S that my shirt?”

“I kind of uh… My dress got funny stains on it y’know… and it reeks of alcohol so I um…”

“Oh alrigh’.”

“If you want me to return it-”

“Nah, shit’s too old anyways. Been sittin’ in the closet.”

“I also used your washing machine-”

‘Mkay.”

Simon takes a fat bite out of the very last pancake.

“And I might use up your shampoo…”

“Don’t mind it.”

Half a cup of coffee gone. 

“What’s your name by the way?”

   ౨ৎ ˖ ࣪⊹ •✸•⊹₊ ⋆୨ৎ

Simon knows his dick is one of his many talents. Something he thought about every so often and gives himself a pat on the shoulder. But surely it must not be that good. Not good enough for emotional attachment. He hopes it’s not the case because you’re still lazing around the house, finding all sorts of things to do constantly.

“I need to wait to get my dress out of the washer.”

An answer to a question he didn’t even ask. You mumble as you wash his mug. Eyes drifting everywhere but him. Simon doesn’t say anything. He doesn’t want to call you out just yet. Sundays are boring anyways. Either smoke in the yard or rewatch that football match yet again. Sometimes, if he’s feeling generous with himself, he’ll drag Johnny to go fishing in the lake that is an hour drive away. This time, however, he doesn’t even have to change out of his worn out sweats.

“So where’s your butler? Is he on leave? It’s hard to cook so early in the morning.”

Simon cocks his head, eyes finally bother to leave the newspaper. Is she mentally ill too? Where the hell did Johnny even get one like this?

“What butler?”

“Huh? The one who cooks and cleans so you don’t have to do it yourself?”

“I didn’t ask for a definition.”

This time you really turn around and look at him for the first time in the morning. Hands gripped the sink behind, eyes wide:

“You don’t have one?”

Simon lets out a mean snort.

“The hell are you on about?”

“I mean… I thought it’s a necessity? My mum told me that.”

Simon is about to reply with something equally mean and equally ludicrous if his eyes didn’t drift back to the half open page of his newspaper. “CEO OF TOP #3 OIL COMPANY THROWS BIG PUBLIC PARTY FOR DAUGHTER’S 20TH BIRTHDAY IN ITALY.” There she is. Expensive pearl necklace wrapped around the neck that his very own hands choked last night. Hair all shiny, eyes full of glitter, one hand holding a purse with a logo that he can’t identify, the other a glass of champagne. All giddy and spoiled. He’s about to read the line of text underneath the bold printed picture if strands of hair didn’t obscure his view. You have taken the liberty to rest your elbows on the arm of the sofa to lean over to peek into what he’s reading, seeing that he stopped responding. 

“Yeah, I had a blast there last month. Too many people though. But I would have invited you.”

Simon gets flashed with your toothy grin when you turn your face around to look at him, eyes crinkle slightly. He didn’t really pay much attention to what you’re blabbering next, too busy comparing your face with the one in the picture. One hand reaches out to brush out a stubborn strand of hair that covers bits of your eyes, making it hard for him to continue his silent quest. It doesn’t take long for Simon to decide which one is better.

   ౨ৎ ˖ ࣪⊹ •✸•⊹₊ ⋆୨ৎ

He finds it eerie that you turn silent when you open the washing machine door to take out your dress along with the rest of his clothes. You’re even more silent as you start to hang them up.

“Didn’t ask ya to do it. Just leave ‘em.”

Simon leans against the wall, trying to create some sense of normalcy. 

“It’s okay. I probably bother you too much at this point.”

The sudden awareness caught him a bit off guard. You’re not as clueless as he’d like to think. 

“Daddy kicked you out or something?”

That makes you slow down your movements, shoulders tensed.

“It’s not like that…”

“How so? Hard to imagine a thing like you go sleeping ‘round with men like me.”

“It is not.”

Your pout makes him stop. Simon is not that close to press on that much anyways. Not yet. 

A similar pout appears on your face when he pulls up at your house - mansion. At some point, he swore a guy just scrunched his face in discomfort just from the sight of his car driving in this neighborhood alone. You, however, claimed the passenger seat full of glory. Simon is used to the sight of rowdy men (sometimes injured) occupying this seat. He never thought it could look so good with your pink dress, pretty heels dangle on your fingers as you hold them by their courier. 

“Thank you for everything. Really.”

You say as you hastily strap the heels back on. With one last smile at him, you push the door open. The grand black metal gate swallows you in but your scent lingers in his car. Simon lets out a chuckle. Look at him in his 30s, gets played by a spoiled rich brat who is probably as fresh as a fawn. Soap is right after all. He takes a deep breathe, taking in all that leftover sweets.

Simon has never felt so frustrated in his life. Usually, he gets it done pretty swift and fast. For some reason, even with the shirt that you borrowed that morning on his nose, your scent mixed with expensive perfumes blocks out all the other senses, his cock never softens. Simon even generously puts on a video and nothing happens. His rough hand goes languished, tired and desperate. Maybe that's the problem. His hand. Not yours. Even his ears begin to find the moaning coupled with wet slaps more annoying than arousing. Then his phone vibrates, temporarily putting the video in the background of his attention. Your name flashes on the screen. 

Fuck. 

Relief floods over him in an instant. Thick white spurts land on his stomach. And Simon has yet to read the text.

   ౨ৎ ˖ ࣪⊹ •✸•⊹₊ ⋆୨ৎ

“But where do you park your second car?”

“Sweets, for fuck’s sake-”

“Oh god, I didn't-”

“Nevermind.”

It has been your fifth trip to his house and your questions only grow. He supposed it's fair since you never stepped on anything but fine marbles. A hand squeezes his bicep. 

“But I really wanna try.”

“You sure ‘bout that? Never take you for that type.”

“Well, I don't have to be a specific type to go on a fishing trip.”

“Fine. Just don't whine too much.”

Your fingers curl around his bicep again, failing to wrap them all the way around. You tend to do that a lot. Excited or anxious. His cock chubs from the sight alone but he can't force you into another round. Instead, Simon pulls the blanket higher, trying to distract himself. It's silent for a while before he gives in and asks the question he had been mulling over since the news came crashing down.

“Has your old man talked to you again?”

A nail digs into his bicep.

“Not yet… He’s still in shock. I don't blame him but what did he think was gonna happen?"

“I suppose you're right.”

Simon can't think of a better ending anyways. If that night you didn't yield before your bodyguard's insistent request to meet up with his “typical military” best friend, he is sure you wouldn't be lying here but probably somewhere in Hawaii on a honeymoon with your newly wed husband. 

“I mean I get to marry whoever the hell I want right? Even if I did decide not to run off and meet that bloke, divorce would be certain in less than a year.”

“Heh.”

   ౨ৎ ˖ ࣪⊹ •✸•⊹₊ ⋆୨ৎ

It is a miracle that he manages to find a hotdog stand still opened past 2 am. All the other vendors are starting to pack up and calling it a day. Simon supposed when you're a daughter of a billionaire, everything naturally goes your way. Because he never would have agreed to being woken up to abandon his sleep and “quench the gut wrenching hunger that eats at the soul”. It is also raining hard. He forgot his umbrella. But the way your legs are skipping when they walk back to his car makes it all worth it in the end. You don't seem too bothered by your wet hair and coat.

“These are so nice! My dad never lets me eat these stuff.”

The way you look at the hotdog in your palm is exactly how one would look at their newborn.

“Mm. They sell it ‘round here a lot.”

You halt your steps and plant a kiss on his cheek. Simon ruffles your hair when you pull away to smile at him cheekily. He hopes you would do the same when he slips a ring on your finger.

a/n: first time adding anything that is nsfw in my work so i tried to make it as light as possible but im VERY anxious abt it though

[mrs-weasley-reid]

PRETTY FACE

bau team x liaison!reader

Synopsis: As the BAU's communications liaison—with a pretty face—you're in charge of peace. But what happens when you're not feeling so peaceful? Word count: 2.2k WARNING: fluff. but also fem rage lol. a few curses. not proofread oopsie A/N: I'm still rusty, so sorry, my lovelies (; _ ;) but I tried my best I promiseeeee. I missed writing so much <3 let me know what you think!

Three years.

Three years of grueling hours. Three years of sweat and hidden tears. Three years of nonstop compensation for multiple skills you aren't born with.

You take pride in your work. You show up. You follow through.

It's no secret. No surprise. You're a beaut, and you don't feel shy. It's normal. So be damned if you curse the parents who gave you such wonderful genetics. 

But that does not make you just pretty.

If anything, it just makes your learned skills, strong will, and assertiveness much more credible. You're not just beauty, but also brains and brawn.

With that in mind, one shall have the mature intelligence to understand the itch on your palms to smack the shit out of the man right before your eyes.

"We told you that I'll be taking care of the media." You start as you follow behind the local precinct's detective. Might as well call it chasing. He's been walking around like you're a fly he's been trying to ward off.

"Like I said, Miss—" He says that to diminish you. To make you smaller. He ignores the fact. He can't grasp the idea. The truth. That you're not just a pretty face. "—The press was there. I didn't know they were going to ask questions that can make things worse." Oh, yes, he did. A liar. And a bad one, too.

That is exactly why the plan is solid. To have you right on the podium, fighting the urge to blink from the flashes. The plan is preventative. To keep the UnSub from thinking that they are winning. 

You manage to keep your eyes from rolling, subtly grinding your teeth. "And we made the plan for that certain reason. I'm used to questions that we have to avoid. I'm more skilled in—"

"Are you saying I'm incapable? That you're better than me?"

His voice rises. Loud enough to shut the entire precinct up. Loud enough to get your team's attention. To prompt judgment and, worse, to make you seem weak.

"You're twisting my words, Detective. I'm telling you what I'm trained for and why we're making use of that advantage." It's simple. It's clear. A grade school level of intelligence can understand just what you said.

But the issue remains the same.

You can't teach someone to fish if their goal is to hunt.

"Listen, doll face. I'm not going to let my city live in false hope by some chick."

If the silence isn't deafening enough, his words are. They exploded like a bomb made to leave you into fine dust.

Three years.

Three years of constant backlash to the idea that a communications liaison can do more than just pick up the phone and connect two vessels of justice into one.

That's why you chose to stay in the Behavioral Analysis Unit. They give you the freedom to do your job. They aren't filled with cheap people who'll mansplain as simple as using a copier. 

Three years, and you learned a lot. You learned your role and their role. You learned how to read, observe, and listen.

So, you know just how much the team filters you from violence. You know how much the BAU team expects less from you when it comes to battling UnSubs. Or going against prideful local detectives, police officers, and more. 

You knew, but you didn't mind. Because despite that, you knew they cared for you dearly. Respected the hard work you put in. Wanted your job to be as easy as possible.

Today, however, is a different story. You're not about to let the team fight your battle. Not when it's with a guy like him. Not when you know damn well how crucial the case is. Not when you're more than some chick he tries to insist you as.

As usual, Hotch is about to step in when gasps echo throughout the room. He stopped in his tracks, bolting his feet on the tiled floor. Maybe even wide-eyed.

Swift.

One swift pull on the detective's tie and the height difference between the two of you shifts. You glower at him as if it’s a crime to be the type of person that he is. And in the back of your mind, you agree.

He's sitting on a chair now. Your left foot is between his thighs. The point of your heels sits three inches from his crotch like a gun to his sorry proof of manhood. 

And even with the stretch, you're nowhere looking lewd despite wearing a skirt. Emily thinks you look badass. Her wide grin can testify to that.

"It's Agent." You announce softly. So soft that the back of Derek's neck shivers in fear. "And if it weren't for this chick's team, another dead body would’ve made your city much, much worse."

Fire spreads inside your body. Rage seeps in. A strong rope that finally snaps. 

“Should we stop the kid?” Rossi asks lowly without batting an eye. He’s worried that if he blinks, you’ll turn into a criminal he can’t bear to catch. 

Hotch only shakes his head in response. Nonetheless, he moves one step every five seconds. Steadily approaching a lion to tame her. It’s not that he thinks you need taming. It’s the fact that he has no idea how to. You’ve never snapped before. The team is at a loss for words.

The grip you have on the detective’s tie can easily choke him then and there. But one thing you're great at is control.

Terrifying control, that is.

"So unless you cooperate, I'm not afraid to pack up and pull us off this messy case." You lightly tug him closer. You watch as a bead of sweat run down the side of his face. "And if you think you can drag our hands into the mud. You'll have your hands dirty all by yourself, because I'm damn great at keeping ours clean. Do I make myself clear, Detective?"

No one’s ever thought it’s possible to mock a worthy title such as detective, but you’re as shocked as everybody else.

How far can your beauty get you? The answer is nowhere, but he doesn’t need to know that. He's already too busy blinding himself from the fact that you're not just that. What more is tricking him into thinking it can get you farther?

A light hand lands on your shoulder. You turn to find Rossi with an unreadable expression. It's his way to pull you back to reality, to calm you down.

Hotch reaches for your hand on the detective's tie. "I think he understands," He insists. Stern but not harsh. More of a plea if you had to say so yourself.

Then, again, he’s always been confident with his words that most of them turn into law, which the entire team abides by without question.

Your hand lets go of the tie, blinking as if you’d been possessed, overwhelmed with rage. Tension dissipates from your body. The furrowed brows on your forehead finally separate.

"JJ and Morgan are going back to the dump site. Go with them."

An order.

Cool off, then we’ll talk later. That’s what Hotch meant, and you know it by heart, considering the amount of times you heard him utter the same words to the team.

It’s first for you, though. So it stings. Embarrassing, for lack of a better word. Part of you knew it was coming. It’s not you to step over a line you know you’re not allowed to cross. Still, it doesn’t change the suffocating feeling in your chest. 

You nod and turn around. Your fists clench so tight crescent indentations sting your palms. Even Rossi's gentle tap on your back didn't make you feel better.

You'd done it.

You broke their trust.

Who are you to say those things anyway? You're just a communications liaison. You have no power.

You can’t even bear to look up ahead to where the others stood. You're afraid that the indifferent looks on their faces will be the final blow.

Despite that, another feeling brews. It creeps right from the marrow of your bones. 

Disappointment. 

A feeling so familiar you can’t bear to feel it at all. Not when it comes to the team. Not when it comes to the people you find comfort with.

The detective coughs loudly as if you really did choke him to death. "You better control your liaison, Agent Hotchner. It’s not a good look to have someone rogue in the FBI." He demands. A snide comment about the team’s power. He’s been intimidated from the start, and he chose you to relieve himself of any jealousy that runs in his blood.

What a wimp, you thought. And unbeknownst to you, your team did too.

"Sorry," Your ears perk as soon as it comes out of Hotch's mouth. "I don't control the person that keeps my hands clean. If anything, I give them soap."

You're out of the door before you can even hear more, getting into the driver's seat without realizing your tight grasps on the wheel.

"Remind me never to piss you off," Derek immediately implores as he sits on the passenger seat next to you. “I’m glad I don’t wear neckties that often.”

Tears uncontrollably fill your eyes and soon enough trail down your cheeks. The adrenaline finally crashes down, and you're back to the realization of what just transpired.

You feel JJ's arms around you despite being in the backseat, "Thank you for being there for us. I know how hard it is to be in your position."

And the sobs come second. "Oh, my gosh! I almost choked a detective. What am I supposed to do? I’m just a liaison. I’m going to jail or something." You cry in almost inaudible tangents, earning a chuckle from the other two, to your dismay. “And did Hotch just make a joke about giving me soap? What does that even mean?” You think you’re going insane. Laughing and crying at the same time like a lunatic. 

“Yeah, I think he likes that one lemon scent you brought in the kitchenette,” JJ adds, rubbing your side to calm your senses down. There’s a motherly feeling in the way she tries to comfort you, and you wouldn’t want it any other way.

Derek grabs your hand and places a small tissue pouch. “Listen here, Agent.” He smirks proudly. “You’re not just a liaison. You’re our liaison. The behavioral analysis unit’s communications liaison. You’ve worked more than what your job description says. None of us would be here if you didn’t show up. Do you have any idea how many times the group almost fell apart when JJ left us? Left the role empty? This team needs you.” He ruffles your hair, to which you're quick to swat before grabbing a napkin.

Sobbing in front of the team is a first, too. Albeit just JJ and Derek with you, it feels like all the members somehow know you’re crying like a child, too. 

A phone ring momentarily distracts the three of you. Emily’s name flashes on JJ’s phone. She waves it with a knowing look before putting the call on speaker.

“Yes, Emily?” JJ answers as if to inform Emily that the three of you can hear her.

“[I’m gonna need pointers how to get a man in line.]” Emily starts, clearly talking to you. Though, you don't think she needs any pointers.

“Is that for self-defense or some freaky stuff?” Derek playfully interjects, grinning at the sight of the screen.

You can hear the way Emily rolls her eyes despite not seeing her at all, “[Wouldn’t you like to know, you dog.]” Laughter erupts inside the van. “[Also, I think Reid’s traumatized for life. He’s clearing out the table from all his folders, something about our liaison asking him to stop hogging the table.]” 

The tears stop, then. You shake your head while you wipe under your eyes. “I can’t believe I did something stupid. I’ll have to write a report about this.” You groan, leaning against the headrest.

"If you ask me, I have no idea what you're talking about.” Derek shrugs nonchalantly.  

JJ nods, “You're going to sound crazy if you add that to your report because none of us wants our hands dirty." She bites her lower lip to sound more serious, but it doesn’t help her at all.

“[Oh, guys, here’s Hotch.]” Emily interjects, prompting static from the other end of the line.

Hotch clears his throat, signaling everyone. “[Can you take me off speaker phone for a moment?]” He directs.

JJ passes you her phone, and you step out of the van.

You take a deep breath before attaching the device to your ear, “Hotch? I’m so so—”

“[I’m going to stop you right there, Agent.]” He cuts you off. “[Don’t ever think that defending yourself is a fault. That’s not how I run my—our team.]”

“I know, but I technically assaulted a cop. And technically threatened him.” There’s nothing technical with what happened. You did them exactly as is, and not to be braggy, but you did so with poise and assertiveness.

“[Well, that’s something we can talk about never. I just wanted to give you a formal apology for not stepping in before it even happened. You’re essential to this team. An insult to you is an insult to all of us.]”

It's as if a heavy weight has been lifted off your shoulders. You can breathe better. And the embarrassment completely melts off your skin. Better yet, the disappointment with your team downright disappeared. 

You shouldn’t have doubted them. 

You snap out of your trance when Hotch says your name, “Yeah?”

“[Where do you buy those scented soaps?]”

You bit your lower lip in hopes of keeping your tears from drowning your eyes. You really should’ve known better than to think the team would ever believe you are just a pretty face.

[kohimeartz]

SIREN!KANTOKUSEI/PREFECT ♀️ X PIRATE!LEONA

AUUUU THERE WAS THIS ONE POST OF PIRATE! LEONA PINNING AFTER SIREN! KANTOKUSEI 😭 ‼️‼️ I ACCIDENTALLY REFRESHED MY FEED AND COULDN'T FIND IT SINCE

LOVELIES IF YOU KNOW IT, SEND LINK IN ASKS OR COMMENT PLEASEEE 🙏🙏

Also my version of Siren! Kantokusei♀️ and Pirate! Leona is that one's the Calm, Cool and Collected Type™ (obviously Leona) and there's the Absolute Dumbass™ (Kantokusei♀️) ❤

Personal headcanon that Sirens (or any type of Merfolk) can't communicate with any Landfolk well unless they've practiced it or dabbled in some magic to help them speak fluently!!!

So Siren! Kantokusei♀️is just saying yes to whatever Pirate! Leona tells her ("I killed 45 men, didja know?" "Chi—irp!" "Heh. S'that right, sweet thing?" <- what their normal conversations is like)

[demie90s]

Perchance.

A Diana Taurasi fic where the reader is tormenting her using the song Dirty Diana by Michael Jackson maybe at practice or online then later Diana could show the reader how dirty she is. Can you make the reader either a rookie or someone with a tad bit of an age gap to Diana.

Love your work btw😌

Dirty Diana

Diana Taurasi x fem!rookie!reader

MASTERLIST | MORE

Summary:. At every practice, every press moment, every Live—you quote Dirty Diana just loud enough for her to hear.

Word Count: ~ 4.2k

Warnings: SMUT, dom!Diana, rookie!reader teasing and submitting, age gap (reader early 20s, Diana late 30s), possessiveness, mild choking, reader is so down bad it’s funny, Diana ruins her (lovingly).

Genre: Smut, Flirtation, Power Play, Age Gap, Tension, Enemies-to-Lust

I swear I didn’t mean to start a bit.

At first, it was just a little joke. A running thing I had going. I repost edits of my teammates all the time—sometimes it’s funny, sometimes it’s out of pocket, but it’s all love. All gas, no brakes. But Diana? Diana was different. Diana Taurasi made it delusional.

She wasn’t even my vet. Ain’t never assigned herself to me. Never offered to “take me under her wing” or none of that cute mentor stuff. But for some godforsaken reason, I attached myself to her like a demon in a conjuring movie. Wherever she went, I was five steps behind. Holding her Gatorade. Squeezing her knee mid-film. Sitting on the edge of her seat like mine wasn’t two inches away.

It’s not even intentional. I’ll be sitting next to her, locked into practice footage, and my hand’ll just… slide. Light touch on her thigh, maybe tracing something dumb like a spiral or a letter. No awareness. No shame. I’m watching the screen, not even clocking the fact that I’m damn near fondling the inner muscle of one of the coldest to ever do it. And the worst part?

She lets me.

She says nothing. Just glances once, then goes back to whatever she was doing. I smile when she holds eye contact too long—like a slut. But hey. That’s just how I am.

And then I started quoting Dirty Diana. Loud. Dramatic. Out of nowhere. I’d pop into the locker room like:

“She looked me deep in the eyes—”

Everyone: “No—NO. Again?”

Me, already spinning: “She touchin’ me so to start!”

The first time it happened, Diana looked up real slow like a cat clocking prey. Didn’t say nothing. Just watched me act a fool across the gym. I saw her smirk, though. Not a smile. A smirk—just the left side of her mouth. Barely there. But I saw it.

That same night, I posted a slo-mo of her stretching pre-game, MJ crooning in the background. Captioned

“Diana walked up to me / She said, ‘I’m all yours tonight’ 😵‍💫”

Another post: A candid of her mid-argument with a ref.

Caption:

“I have the stuff that you want / I am the thing that you need 😭😭”

I play it off like I do this with everybody—and I do. But not like this. Not this level of obsession. Not this frequency. With her, I be in the comments like I’m locked in a parasocial relationship.

“Y’all don’t get it. I seen her irl. 😭”

“I’m mentally employed under her. That’s my supervisor.”

“She told the ref to back up and I almost passed out.”

I tag her. Because why wouldn’t I? I’m already annoying, might as well go all the way. She never likes. Never comments. But she knows. I know she knows.

’Cause in person? She’s confusing as hell.

Diana will ignore me completely one day—walk straight past, no eye contact, like I’m a ghost in the hallway. Then the next, she’s cracking jokes, tossing her towel at me, stealing my charger like it’s hers. She’s serious 90% of the time. Locked in. Vet mode. But that other 10%..That’s what’s ruining me.

Like today. Practice was hell. Nobody could shoot. Everyone dragging. Coach yelling. We’re running suicides and I’m dead tired, panting, bent over, hands on knees. Diana walks by cool as hell, not even winded, and says:

“Get your ass up, MJ.”

I blink. “Huh?”

“You like singing ‘Dirty Diana’ so damn much, go ahead and run it back.”

She walks off. I’m stunned. No comeback. Just standing there smiling like she proposed.

Later, I sit next to her during cool down and I don’t even realize my hand’s rubbing her arm. Like, soft circles. Not trying to be slick. Just soothing myself, apparently. She don’t stop me. Just shifts a little so I’ve got more room. I swear she lowkey leans into it.

My mouth moves before I can stop it.

“She’s saying, ‘That’s okay… hey baby, do what you want…’”

Diana raises a brow without turning her head.

“…I’ll be your night lovin’ thing, I’ll be the freak you can taunt…”

She laughs. Quietly. Barely. But I catch it.

“…You’re sick,” she says.

“Baby, I’m talented.”

I post another story that night. Just a blurry pic of her walking into the locker room. Caption:

“She trapped me in her heart. Dirty Diana, nah 😩🧎🏽‍♀️”

I tag her. Again. Still nothing. Still addicted.

This not even flirting no more. This is torment. This is soul possession. This is a grown woman who could end my entire career entertaining me. Watching. Letting me linger. Touch. Tease. Lose my mind.

I swear I heard her humming Dirty Diana in the locker room today. But maybe that’s just the demons I summoned talking.

Either way I’m not scared. I’m not stopping.

The win was clean. Easy, even. Everybody played well, nobody got hurt, and for once, Coach wasn’t breathing down our necks. We loaded up the bus all smiles, loud music, popcorn being thrown, and just enough chaos to feel like a team that loves each other. Spirits were high.

I was bored. Bored like the kind of bored that makes you flight risk.

Everybody’s room was standard. Basic keycard, bland lighting, twin beds too stiff for rest. But not hers. She’s a vet. The vet. Meaning she had the Presidential Suite. Double doors, blackout curtains, two showers, a fridge full of things she didn’t buy, and silence.

Most importantly: space.

She didn’t invite me. Of course not. Diana never invites me anywhere. She just tolerates the fact that I show up anyway. But I wasn’t in the mood to sneak tonight. I wanted to be let in. Wanted to watch her roll her eyes and open the door anyway.

So I call her. It rings twice.

“…Why are you calling me?”

I smile. “Why not?”

There’s a pause, then the sound of her breath leaving her nose like she already regrets answering. “…It’s late. And I’m tired.”

“I’m bored.”

“You’re in a hotel. Go find something to do.”

“I can’t.”

“You can’t?”

“I need stimulation.”

“I’m hanging up.”

“No—wait. Can I stay with you?”

Silence. Then: “No.” I grin, stretched out across my own boring-ass bed, phone resting on my cheek.

“You didn’t even let me plead my case.”

“There is no case,” she says flatly.

“I’m restless. My room sucks. And I just….wanna talk.” I pause. “You like talking.”

“I like peace.”

“And yet, I’m on your phone.”

Another long silence. I imagine her laying there in her expensive-ass bed, jaw tight, regretting every choice that led her to being on a roster with me.

“….Come Here.” she snaps. The line goes dead.

No sweet invitation. No “okay, fine, come cuddle.” It’s that low, fed-up tone. That ‘get your ass up here before I change my mind’ kind of tone. I throw on my hoodie like I’m suiting up for war and head to the elevator, smug as hell.

When I knock, she opens the door already mid-eye-roll. Arms crossed. Hair loose. Sports bra and joggers. No makeup. No braids. No effort.

Still fine as fuck. I smirk. “Missed me?” She steps back, says nothing.

The suite smells expensive. Clean linen, subtle cologne, faint lemon. Lights low. One huge king bed, made perfectly. A leather chair sits angled in the corner beside a full-length mirror and a table with half a glass of wine. There’s an untouched fruit tray on the dresser. Everything about it screams veteran luxury.

“I see you used your powers,” I say, stretching as I look around. “They got us in shoeboxes and you got a whole spa suite. Must be nice.”

She closes the door behind me with a sigh. “It’s what I deserve.”

I turn to her slowly. “What do I deserve?”

She doesn’t answer. Doesn’t flinch. Just walks past, brushing my shoulder on the way to the fridge like I’m just there. I follow her movement, eyes trailing her back. Long, lean, loose. She opens the fridge and grabs another mini wine bottle.

“You came all the way up here to annoy me?”

“I came up here because I was bored.”

“You are bored,” she mutters, cracking the seal. “Clearly.”

She doesn’t offer me any. Just walks to the leather chair and sits, crossing her legs like I’m not still standing in the middle of her space, trying to soak her up.

“So what now?” she says, leaning her cheek against her fist. “You gonna sing to me?”

I chuckle. “You know the lyrics better than I do at this point.”

“Unfortunately.”

I start wandering. Not sitting yet. Just trailing fingertips over the cool marble table. The edge of the mirror. My reflection flickers in the low light and I glance over my shoulder. She’s still watching.

I turn fully. “Why you got that chair set up like that? Facing the bed and the mirror?”

She raises a brow. “Why you asking questions you don’t want the answers to?”

I pause. Lips part slightly. The tension creeps in slow like fog.

“Maybe I do want the answer,” I say quietly.

“Maybe you don’t know what you’re asking.” I swallow. The way her voice drops. It’s not loud. It’s not even mean. It’s just direct. L I step closer. Still not cocky. Still lighthearted. Still playing that thin line between teasing and testing.

“You’re not scary, you know.”

“I don’t have to be scary. I just have to be real.”

I smile. “I like real.”

She tilts her head slightly. “No. You like games. Drama. Noise. You like saying my name in the locker room like you understand what it means.”

My eyes narrow, grin lingering.

“Dirty Diana,” I murmur, almost like I’m tasting it.

She finishes her wine in one slow sip. Then uncrosses her legs and leans forward.

“You sure you’re bored… or just stupid?” I step closer to the bed, finally sitting on the edge. My knees touch the floor. My hands rest between them.

“Maybe both.” She leans back again, slow and deliberate, watching the way I settle into her space.

The mirror reflects the shape of me. Her. The room. I see her shift in the chair, see her eyes trailing down my legs. No words. No move. Just patience. The kind that don’t come with warnings. The kind that lets you cook in your own decision.

I glance toward the bed. “I’m not tryna sleep, by the way.”

“Oh,” she hums, rising from the chair. “I know.”

No smiles. No flirting. No jokes. Just heat. Weight. Silence. And the door clicks shut behind me.

I’ve been messing with Diana for damn near a year.

Not messing messing. Not like that. Emotionally? I’ve been tormenting her with dramatic Michael Jackson lyrics, stalking her around the practice facility, and using every excuse to touch her like I don’t know what boundaries are. And she’s let me.

Teased me back sometimes. But never crossed that line.

I’m walking around her suite. Fingertips on her dresser, nose in her candle collection, peeking into the closet just to annoy her.

She hasn’t said much, just sits there in that leather chair with one leg crossed over the other, watching me like she’s the principal and I’m the reason she drank today.

“You know you like the attention,” I call over my shoulder, tugging on the edge of her bathrobe hanging off a hook. “Why else you upgrade your room like this? Wanted me to see the view?” No answer. I glance over.

She’s staring. Still. I grin, lean against the glass. “You gone say something or just undress me with your—”

“Sit.”

I blink. “Huh?”

Her voice sharpens. “Sit. Down.”

That tone. Oh, I sit. Not on the bed like I expected. But on the low bench at the foot of it. Still warm from my wandering.

Still a little smug. But I’m listening. I’d always listen to her. Even if my mouth stay smart, even if I act like I’m in control—I like following her lead.

She stands slowly. Stalks over. Quiet. Calm.

I’m still in a hoodie and shorts. Comfortable. Loose. But I feel exposed as hell the moment she gets in front of me. Not touching. Just towering. Her gaze pins me down like weight. My stomach flips.

“You wanna see dirty Diana?” she asks, low and slow, like a threat and a promise all in one.

I shift. “Girl don’t—” But it’s too late.

She leans down and her thumb traces my bottom lip—soft, then firm, dragging over the center. My lips part automatically. Breath caught. Knees tight. The air between us gets hot, heavy, wet with anticipation.

“You think you can handle me?” she murmurs. My thighs clench.

Deadass—I could’ve cum from that alone. Her voice. The nerve of her. The control. I stare at her with parted lips and dazed eyes, so clearly gone, and she smirks like she knows.

She does know. I shift again, about to speak, about to say something sarcastic—but she’s already walking back to her chair. Cool. Collected. She sits.

“Take your pants off.”

My heart skips. “What?”

“Take them off. And touch yourself.” I don’t move.

“If we’re doing this,” she says, voice cool and clear, “you’re gonna do it my way.”

Her eyes stay locked on mine. I look down for a second. My hoodie is bunched at my thighs. My fingers tremble when I hook into the waistband. She raises a brow. I breathe deep and slide them down, slow. It feels too slow, but maybe that’s the point.

Now I’m bare, thighs spread, still seated at the foot of her bed, her eyes drinking me in like she’s waited for this. Like she knew I’d fold eventually.

My fingers trail down softly. Just the outer lips at first. Teasing. Slow.

But she doesn’t let me settle into it. Doesn’t give me a chance to get comfortable. Not when I start to look away, flustered, trying to calm the heat flooding me.

“Don’t look away,” she says sharply. “You wanted this, right?”

My eyes shoot back up. It’s hard to keep them there. My legs are shaking, mouth parted, breath catching on every inhale. My fingers dip lower. Find that soft, sensitive spot and circle it slowly. My hips twitch. But it’s the eye contact that breaks me.

It’s her face.

It’s the way she watches me, lips slightly parted, one hand gripping the arm of the chair, that dark gaze fixed like she’s inside me already.

I moan—soft, high, breathy. My head tips back for a second but I catch myself. Glance up. That’s when she stands.

She walks over. No rush. No sound. She crouches in front of me, between my knees. Lifts my chin with one hand. Firm grip. Steady.

“Eyes on me,” she says. “You keep ‘em open.”

Her thumb brushes the corner of my mouth again, and I gasp. My fingers are still working but it’s not even that anymore. It’s her. It’s the power she has over me. The way she can command my body without touching anything but my face.

And when our eyes lock. I fall apart.

My other hand reaches up, clutching her wrist like a lifeline. My back arches. I try to keep breathing but every moan is a sob now. Not loud—just desperate. Messy. Deep from the gut.

“Fuck,” I whisper, voice barely there.

She leans in, nose brushing mine. “That’s it.”

My eyes flutter again but she holds my face tighter. “Look at me.”

And I do. I look. I fall. And I cum. It’s not violent. It’s not fast. It’s sensual. Warm and wet and slow, like being swallowed whole by a wave I never saw coming. I can’t stop it. I don’t want to.

My fingers slow. My thighs twitch. My hand is shaking against her wrist and she finally lets my chin go. But I don’t move.

I just breathe. Chest rising and falling. Hoodie damp with sweat. Face hot. Body trembling.

She watches me the whole time. Silent. Smirking. Like Dirty Diana finally showed her teeth.

I should’ve paid attention.

Not to the way she said “come up,” not even to the cuffs she somehow already had on hand like this was a setup—but to her silence. The way she didn’t smirk when she snapped the second cuff behind my back. The way she didn’t warn me.

Real killers don’t announce themselves.

She just watched me with this calm, focused look, like she wasn’t undressing me—just deciding which part she wanted first.

I was still recovering from the orgasm she dragged out of me with a single command and her voice, wrists locked behind me now, legs open like I forgot how to close them. I’m dazed. Hot. Breathing heavy. I’m stupid enough to think we’re done.

She hasn’t even started.

She drops back between my legs without ceremony—like she lives there, like it’s hers. Her hands smooth over my thighs again, a little slower this time. Gentle, almost. Like she’s checking to see if I’ve caught on yet.

I haven’t. Then she slaps me.

Not hard. Not the way people expect when they hear the word—but sharp enough to sting, timed perfectly with her palm landing flat between my thighs. I jerk. Suck in air.

“Oh, you like that,” she mutters, almost to herself. “Of course you do.”

She does it again, just to prove a point. The wet sound of her palm meeting me is loud in the room, louder than my choked little moan, louder than my pride slipping out the cracks of my mouth.

“You get off on this, huh?” Her voice is lower now. “Acting like a brat all season. Quoting songs. Touchin’ me without permission. You wanted me to break you.”

I try to deny it—try to say something—but my words die in my throat. Because when she spits on it—again—and drags her fingers slow through it, I nearly fall forward.

She clicks her tongue. “Keep those legs open.”

I nod before I can think. “Y-yeah.”

“Yeah?” she repeats, fingers sliding up to circle my clit with a light, taunting pressure. “Yeah what?”

I freeze. Fuck. “…Yes ma’am.”

Her pause is immediate. Her hand stops moving, but her eyes..They burn. She tilts her head just slightly, lips parted, like she’s never been more entertained in her life.

“What’d you just call me?”

I swallow, embarrassed. “I didn’t mean—”

“Yes, you did,” she interrupts. “You meant it.”

She leans in. Mouth brushing over my inner thigh, slow and warm and close enough to feel but not enough to satisfy. Her breath is so hot it makes me twitch.

“You ever been ruined, baby?” she asks softly. “Not fucked. Ruined.” I can’t even answer.

She doesn’t wait.

Her tongue replaces her fingers like they never existed—slick and slow, dragging the wetness she stirred back up with steady pressure that makes my head spin. And just as I start to fall into it, her fingers slide in—deep, slow, patient.

I cry out. Not loud. Not dramatic. Just a quiet, raw sound that slips out of me before I can catch it.

“Oh, that’s cute,” she says against me, lips brushing my clit. “I haven’t even done anything.”

Her fingers move in this rhythm that feels learned. Not fast. Not brutal. But heavy. Intentional. Like she’s been waiting a whole year to give me exactly what I need—and make me beg for what I can’t take.

She sucks my clit again, a little harder this time, and her fingers curl just right. My back arches. My knees try to close, and she slaps the side of my thigh again—just a tap.

“Don’t you dare,” she warns. I whimper.

“What’s the matter?” she murmurs, fingers dragging out slow just to push back in deeper. “Cat got your tongue? Where’s all that mouth now?”

“I—I can’t—”

She chuckles. “Oh, you will. I want you sayin’ everything. Loud.”

She slows again. Just enough to make me ache. Her mouth barely there. Her fingers still knuckle-deep.

“Say what you called me again,” she says, tongue flicking lightly. “I dare you.”

I hesitate. I’m shaking. Panting. I look down at her and instantly regret it—she looks too good like this. Jaw locked. Cheeks flushed. In full control. Like she owns me.

“…Yes ma’am,” I breathe again. Soft. Fragile. And she grins.

“Good girl.” It’s over. No, it’s on.

She drags her mouth over me again with purpose, not mercy. Fingers fucking up into me with new pace, more depth. Her tongue tight and consistent, sucking and circling until I’m losing track of myself. Of time. Of how I ended up here.

She’s not saying anything now. Doesn’t need to. She just works me. Turns me inside out. I hold onto the only thing I can—her wrist.

Because I’m dripping. Legs trembling. Head back, teeth clenched. Every inch of me feels open and alive and owned.

This was never a game to her. Not really.

It looked like one because I was the one playing loud—joking in the locker room, quoting lyrics like I wrote ’em, touching her arms, her thighs, posting her on my story like she was just another crush.

She was silent. Measured. Plotting.

I fell for it. Cocky, flirty, too dazed off a soft orgasm to realize the cuffs weren’t a reaction—they were premeditated. She came prepared. Not just with the chain around my wrists or the quiet, slow-deep fingers making me forget how to breathe. No.

She had everything. Because Coach tells her things first.

Like hotel plans. Room arrangements. Which floor the rookies are on. And how close our doors are.

She didn’t just bring wine and sweats and a charger—she brought a whole strap. Packed it like a toothbrush. Because she knew.

Knew I’d find my way to her. Knew I’d test her limits. Knew eventually I’d sit right where she wanted, legs open, wrists bound, breath shaky, wet enough to slide into without warning.

So when she stands again, eyes slow-dragging over me like I’m a mess she enjoys cleaning up, I know. This isn’t heat-of-the-moment. This was step six in a playbook I never got to read.

She doesn’t say anything at first. Just walks to her travel bag like she’s grabbing a hoodie. Unzips it casual. Quiet. Then I see it.

Black harness. Clean, sleek, no-nonsense. She doesn’t turn to look at me when she straps it on. Just adjusts it like she’s done it a thousand times and always knew this one would be for me.

I shift. Legs still open. Wrists aching a little behind my back, but I’m not tapping out. Not yet. She comes back slow, voice cool.

“You done?”

I blink, breath still shaky. “What?”

She tilts her head. “All that mouth you got. You done now?”

I nod before I realize I’m nodding.

She climbs onto the bed like a storm. Stalks over me, pushing me flat, flipping me quick so my cuffed wrists are pressed into the sheets and her hand is fisting the back of my hoodie to keep me still.

“You wanna be fucked like a problem?” she says low, lips by my ear. “Then don’t run.”

I moan on instinct. She hasn’t even touched me again yet.

“This what you wanted, huh? Acting up all season. Thinking I wasn’t watching you.” I whimper, thighs spread.

“No warm-up,” she murmurs, pushing her hips forward against me with one slow grind. “You get what I give you, baby.”

The first thrust makes me gasp. Loud. My mouth opens but nothing comes out except breath. I wasn’t ready. She knew that. That’s why she did it.

“Take it,” she says. I do. Because I have no choice.

Her hand’s on my neck now, pinning me to the bed while her hips roll with steady, unrelenting force. She’s not trying to be sweet. Not trying to make it pretty. This is work. This is ownership.

I try to catch my breath, try to say something—anything—but her mouth is already there. She kisses me hard, sloppy, open-mouthed. Tongue in my throat. Swallowing the sounds before they ever make it out.

“You don’t need to say anything,” she breathes, biting my bottom lip. “Ain’t nothing you got to say that matters right now.”

I moan against her mouth. “D-Diana—fuck—”

She thrusts harder. Deeper. One of her hands slides down, finding my clit like it lives there. Rubbing it in rough circles while she fucks into me like it’s personal.

“Don’t look away now,” she hisses when my head starts to turn.

I can’t help it. My eyes roll. My hips push back. I’m whining now—soft, helpless.

“Yeah,” she growls. “Cry. Pass out. Scream if you want. I’ll stop if you tap…but you not gone do that.” She’s right.

My body’s shaking. My legs won’t stay still. She bites my shoulder as she keeps going, never slowing, like this was her job and I’m just her project.

I breathe her name again—more like a prayer than a plea. I feel her grin against my neck.

“Don’t ever play with my name again,” she whispers.

Then slaps my ass, hips hitting harder.

I almost do. Almost tap. But I don’t. I just take it. Exactly like she knew I would.

@letsnowtalk @draculara-vonvamp @kcannon-1436-blog @let-zizi-yap @perksofbeingatrex @soapyonaropey @julieluvspb @non3ofurbusiness @kcannon-1436-blog @kaliblazin @liloandstitchstan @footy-lover264 @yorubagirlsworld @daffodil-darlings @h4untedghOul @followthesvn @hibiscusblu @sevikasleftbicep @swiftie4evr @babyphatbrat @sivensblog @beeop223 @huntedghOul @tpwkrosalinda @lightsgore @em-nems @salemsuccss @villain-ryuk @ihrtsarahstrOng @liyahh037 @sillystarv @somedetailsinthefabric @essence-134340 @mochelisgf @soph1asticated @heheievidbri @unvswrld @breezybellab @planet-ghoulborne @art-ofmusic @toorealrai

[kawaiigirly21]

Our Little Soda Pop: Chapter 8

A few months into her pregnancy, everything seemed normal. Save for the morning sickness, Natasha was her normal self. Until… “Oh my fuck, can you fucking breathe any louder?!” Baby looked at Natasha in shock as she glared at him. “Sorry babe, you ok?” He asked softly. “What kind of fucking question is that!? No! I'm not! You know what? Just get out! Go away!” She yelled then began to cry. “I'm so ugly! I'm fat! My head hurts!” Baby stood frozen in his place with his towel hanging lowly around his waist after getting out of the shower not long before this. “You're not fat babe. That's the baby growing inside of you.” He tried to reason.

“I'm not stupid!! I know that!! What you think I'm fucking dumb!? You fucking ass hole!!” Baby nearly flinched at how quickly Natasha switched up. Especially when her teeth began to sharpen and her eyes glowed. “I don't think you're stupid. You're our smart girl. Just relax and take a deep breath.” He replied while typing away on his phone. Quickly trying to text Jinu and the others to get home soon or better yet, immediately.

As soon as the doors to the elevator opened, the others watched as Baby stayed crouched behind the kitchen counter as Natasha laid on the couch crying heavily and rubbing her 4 month pregnant stomach. “Why don't you love me!?” She cried. “I do love you!! I don't love you throwing shit at me though!” Baby shouted back from behind the counter. “I-im sorry!! WAHHHHH” She cried more. “Ok… let's try and descalate the situation.” Jinu spoke before he and Mystery walked to Natasha and crouched to her level. “Love bug? What's wrong?” He asked as Mystery pressed sweet kisses to her tummy. “I-i don't know… everything feels weird. I'm happy one minute and angry or sad the next… I didn't mean to almost hurt Baby…” She replied softly.

“We're not worried about him. He's been through worse. We're more worried about how these mood swings are affecting you.” Jinu smiled softly and placed a warm hand on her stomach. Rubbing circles into her skin. “Don't worry Tasha, you only got what? Like 4 more months of this? Then you'll be a mom!” Abby grinned. “It's 5.” Romance corrected. “What?” The other man rolled his eyes. “She carries the baby for 9 months. Not 8.” Romance shook his head. “Damn,so it's just gonna keep getting bigger?” Abby gestured to Natasha's pregnant belly and having overheard his comment, she began to cry more. “What the fuck man?!” Mystery shouted, which was rare. “It was just a question!” Abby threw up his hands trying to defend himself.

That night, Natasha sighed in comfort as she shared a bath with Romance. Her back against his chest as his hands massaged her sore breasts. “Feel any better?” He asked softly as he pressed a sweet kiss to her cheek. “Mm yes… I needed this… thank you Romance.” Natasha yawned. “What do you think the baby will be like?” She then asked. “Hmmmm hopefully… nothing like us…” He whispered. Not having liked the life he lived before meeting Natasha. Being demons, he and the others committed heinous acts and lived an egregious lifestyle. As his human form slowly faded away, Romance placed his clawed hands on his mate's growing stomach.

“I want to be a good father… I don't want them to know anything about how we used to be. I want them to have a good life.” He mumbled. Placing her own clawed hand on top of his, Natasha smiled. “You will be a great father. All of you will.” The next day, as Natasha and Abby were out looking at cribs, a small group of fans recognized them. “Oh my gosh!! Look!” Sighing heavily, Abby braced himself to be swarmed with fan girls wanting pictures and autographs. However, he was practically shoved out the way in favor of Natasha. “My mom used to play your songs all the time! I grew up listening to your music!!” One girl squealed.

“My mom is not gonna believe I saw The Empress! Agh! Can I take a quick selfie?” Another asked. “Oh sure. I don't mind a few pictures.” Natasha smiled a soft motherly smile that made the fans feel warm inside. “My parents met at one of your concerts. My mom's favorite song of yours is "Irreplaceable.” Natasha grinned as another fan came in for a selfie. “Oh? I loved writing that song. It was a lot of fun.” Getting a bit irritated and watching the crowd get bigger, Abby slyly grabbed Natasha's hand to pull her out the store. Even then, the questions didn't stop.“When are you making new music?” “Please make new music soon?” “Why'd you leave the spotlight so soon?”

Guiding her out the store, Abby growled lowly seeing paparazzi already snapping pictures of them. “Oh my gosh she's pregnant! Is that man next to you the father?!” One asked. “Wait, that's Abby from the Saja Boys! Talk about a cougar. Rob the cradle much Natasha?” Someone rudely asked causing Abby to make a 360° turn. “Fucking excuse me?!” Grabbing his arm, Natasha shook her head. “There's too many cameras baby. Calm down. Let's go home.” She then rubbed her thumb on his muscular forearm in an attempt to calm him down. Taking a deep breath, he nodded and grabbed her hand gently. As he turned to lead her to their car, a photographer made another rude comment. “Hey Abby! Is her pussy tight or loose! You know, because she's way older than you so-”

He never got to finish his sentence because as soon as he made the comment, Abby decked him in the jaw once to knock him out. Then took the camera and threw it into the street, breaking it. “Piece of shit.” He growled as he stomped back to the car and slammed the door after getting in the driver's seat. Not bothering nor caring about the fans that witnessed what he had done. That night, his display of aggression was everywhere.

[loveroffemmes]

A Loser’s Fantasy | Mean! Jackie Taylor x Loser!Fem! Reader

warnings: one-shot with smut, g!p reader, usage of the word ‘cock’

summary: jackie taylor seeks you out after every party.

I knew Jackie better than she would ever admit. I knew that the second she could find an opportunity to slip away from a party, she would. She would take a shot, she would try to get in as many people’s photos as possible (proof she showed up), and then she would sneak away. If someone questioned where she was at the party, she would simply say that she was too drunk to remember where she ended up that night. 

The truth was that she was in my bed. She was unbuttoning my jeans, she was demanding me to take off my shirt, — she was sneaking off to see me. 

I could hear Jackie banging on my front door. She didn’t care if she woke me up, she only cared about getting what she wanted. I opened the door and Jackie pushed past me, “Took you long enough.” She hummed, annoyed. 

I rolled my eyes, “Maybe if you told me you were stopping by, I would have answered the door faster.” 

“You should have known, there’s a party a few houses down. Let me guess though,” Her lips twitched with amusement, “You weren’t invited?” My face reddened at her comment and Jackie laughed. She reached her hand out and grabbed my wrist, dragging me to my bedroom when I didn’t pull away. She already knew which room it was, she had done this time and time again. 

“Why do you even go to these parties if you never stay for more than an hour?”

“To make an appearance, duh.” She sighed at my question, acting as if it was the stupidest thing she had ever heard, “People wouldn’t even bother going out if I didn’t show up. A good party needs only one thing and that’s me.” Her words would seem unbelievably cocky to anyone else and they were cocky, but there was so much more to it. Most of what Jackie did was simply because people expected it of her. I doubt she would be out this late if people didn’t want her to be – that’s why she always ends up at my place, where she actually wants to be for the night. Though, she would never say that to me. 

“Yet, you’re here.” I reminded and Jackie rolled her eyes, huffing, “Do you not want me here or something?” She asked, “You should be grateful you get to have me all to yourself for a night or two out of the week. A loser like you can’t really do any better – well, no one could really do any better.” Jackie’s cocky smirk left her face, “D-Do you not want me here or something?” And a little bit of insecurity made it’s way through her normally unbreakable mean girl attitude. 

“I do.” I admit, knowing full well that Jackie would only make fun of me for expressing want, but I knew that she needed reassurance. I think that’s why she always comes back to me. I think she likes hearing that she’s pretty, I think she likes being told what a good job she’s doing, I think she likes that I want her for more than just the fact that she’s the most popular girl at our school. I think she needs constant praise and I’m the only one who will give it to her without her having to ask (she considers herself far too mighty to ever ask someone for something). 

“Of course you do. Isn’t this every loser’s fantasy?” Jackie stripped herself of her varsity jersey, throwing it on a chair in my room, “Most girls beg for a chance to have my varsity jacket in their room and you haven’t even thanked me yet.” 

“Thanked you?” 

“I came here without you even having to ask. I think just about anyone would consider you lucky.” Jackie’s hand reached for my wrist again, her actions feeling more rushed now that we were in my room. She pulled me towards my bed, pushing me down onto it. Her hands wasted no time in moving to my pajama pants, grazing over the very noticeable bulge. Her other hand hiked up her black floral dress and she swung her leg over my lap, beginning to straddle me. Her hand didn’t leave it’s spot on my pants, continuing to teasingly brush over my cock as she adjusted herself on my lap. Once she was settled in my lap; her lips quickly attached to my neck, slightly sticking to my skin each time she planted a kiss as her lip gloss slowly rubbed off of on me. 

“You’re quick today.” 

“Shut up.” Jackie sucked the skin of my neck harder at my comment. I knew it would bruise and I knew that’s what Jackie wanted, “You’re the one that’s hard when I’ve barely done anything.” Her movements were more purposeful now, her hand curling around my length as she finally started to properly pump my cock in her hand. Her other hand moved to my hair, twirling it between her fingers as she continued to suck the sensitive skin of my neck. Each time she bit down on my neck, she would tug on my hair, pulling me as close as possible to her. 

My hands ran down her back, I wanted to feel any part of her that I possibly could. I moved them down to her ass, I could feel her moan against my neck as I grabbed her ass. Jackie loved having my hands anywhere on her, especially groping her, “Rougher.” Jackie moaned against my neck and I complied, my fingers dug into the soft flesh and Jackie rocked back on my lap as she moaned. 

Jackie’s hand slipped into my pajama pants, her thumb grazing over my tip and gathering the precum on her hand and using it as lube as she pumped. 

“That’s it.” Jackie cooed, a soft laugh escaping her lips as she watched me unfold. Her fingers tugged at my hair once more, maneuvering me so she could clearly watch my reactions. I thrusted into her hand, moaning with each tug of my hair and each pump of Jackie’s hand. It was too much. I couldn’t handle it. My thighs shook, my eyes shut, and then…

Jackie stopped. Her hand was still wrapped around my cock and when I opened my eyes, all I was met with was her teasing smirk, “Did you really think this would be all about you?” She asked and I didn’t respond, I couldn’t respond even if I wanted to. I was way too focused on my most orgasm to even pay attention to Jackie’s teasing. I thrusted into her hand with a whine and Jackie shook her head, “Tsk, tsk…Do you really want me to get you off with just my hand?” Jackie let go of my cock and shifted forward in my lap, grinding her wet panties perfectly against my cock. 

“I want you, Jackie.” Jackie responded with another shift of her hips, grinding against my cock harder this time, “Please.” Her grip on my hair loosened at my plea and she dropped her hand to her lap. She hovered above my lap, her hand returning to my cock and her other hand moving her own underwear to the side. She slowly lowered herself onto my cock, guiding my tip through her wet folds as a form of makeshift lube. 

I jerked my hips up and Jackie wrapped her hand around my cock tighter, forcing me to stay still, “So impatient.” She laughed, a light blush dusting her cheeks at my eagerness. 

After a few more of my whines, Jackie finally lowered herself onto my cock. She sank down fully and all I could do was moan and try not to grab her hips and fuck her without another thought. It was taking everything in me to be patient because, fuck, she was tight. Jackie’s hands moved to my shoulders and mine moved to her waist, the movements were smooth and familiar — Jackie had a thing for riding me, not that she would ever actually tell me that. 

I bucked my hips and Jackie moaned, “D-Don’t get ahead of yourself.” My movements quickly stopped. Jackie was embarrassed at how quickly she unfolded when it came to me, she wanted to be in control for a little while longer. 

Jackie’s hips lifted and she sank onto my cock once again. Her actions were painfully slow — such a tease. She did it again, even slower, “You sound so pretty.” She rasped as she rolled her hips. I couldn’t take it anymore. I dug my fingers into her hips and pulled her hips down harder as I thrusted into her. Jackie let out a half yelp and a half moan. Her back arched and her hands gripped my shoulders tighter. I snapped my hips upwards once again, burying my cock as deep as possible, “You feel so good.” I moaned out and Jackie clenched around my length at the comment, her face going red as she whimpered at the praise. 

Jackie, feeling more confident, began to meet my thrusts as she rode me. Any words she tried to say came out as broken whimpers and gibberish, too fucked out to even speak. Her movements became messier, her hips jolted in desperate bucks against my cock as she got close. 

“Kiss me, (Y/n).” Jackie tried to demand, but her words were broken by her moans. I leaned forward, still pumping into her, and pressed our lips together. Jackie’s hands moved to my face, grabbing it with an urgency I had never seen from her. She slammed her lips against mine, moaning into the kiss. I could feel her tighten around my cock, her hips barely able to keep up. The kiss was sloppy and desperate, it was hardly Jackie’s focus as she tried to draw out my orgasm with hers. I could feel her clamping down on my cock, desperate for me to cum. 

Jackie bit down on my lip, trying to regain some stability, but it didn’t matter because the second I came, Jackie let out a needy cry against my lips. Her whole body shook and her thighs clenched as she tried to keep herself grounded on my cock, wanting to work every last drop out of me. By the end of it, the both of us were panting and whimpering and clinging to each other. 

Jackie pulled away, my cock still buried inside her as she stared at me. My lip was bruised, my neck was covered in hickeys, and Jackie couldn’t stop looking at me. She leaned forward and kissed me again, much softer this time. I kissed her back. She didn’t try to push her tongue into my mouth or bite down on my lip; the kiss was innocent, even if the situation was not. 

Jackie pulled back. She lifted her hips slightly and I groaned. I helped her off of me and she whimpered, mumbling something about ‘feeling empty.’ Jackie flopped onto my bed with a happy sigh. 

“Do you want one of my shirts to sleep in?” I asked, already heading for my closet. 

Jackie rolled her eyes, “Obviously.” 

I knew I would never get that shirt back. I knew Jackie would keep it and if I asked for it back, she would deny having it. I didn’t mind though, I liked that she always wanted to keep something of mine. 

Masterlist

[honey-on-your-tongue]

Corruption kink with boyfriend Simon Riley, part 7 (nsfw)

Part 6 here

Making out with Ghost on the couch, your pretty hand rubbing his hard cock through his pants while he’s knuckles-deep in your pussy. He pulls away slightly and murmurs against your lips, “God, I just wanna fuck that mouth of yours, pretty girl.”

You freeze, hand ceasing its movements, eyes wide. “What?”

“I want your lips on my cock, baby,” he replies, gently tracing your jaw with his fingers. “What I did with you, you can do to me, too. You can use your mouth on me.”

You blush, obviously reluctant. Simon won’t push you, but the thought of it is making his head spin.

“It’s okay if you don’t want to, baby, just thought it would be nice, is all,” he assures.

“No, I…I wanna do it,” you say. “I just don’t know how.”

“It’s just like sucking a lollipop,” he tells you. “C’mon, I’ll teach you. Kneel in front of me?”

You get onto your knees between his spread legs as he sits on the couch, your pretty eyes filled with nerves. He pushes his pants off, his cock springing free.

He runs his knuckles over your cheek before his hand moves to the back of your head, fingers tangling in the hair there. He pulls you closer, guiding your lips to your cock. “You can go ahead and lick it, baby.”

Tentatively, you give the tip a kitten lick and Simon hisses, cursing under his breath. Encouraged by his positive reaction, you lick him again.

“That’s it, baby. Just do what you’re comfortable doing,” he groans, watching you lick around the bulbous head.

Your tongue moves a little lower, tracing the veins on his underside, and Simon grunts, cock twitching. He lets you lick him for a while longer before he pulls your head up.

“Open wide for me, baby,” he instructs. You part those pretty lips of yours and Simon slowly pushes his cock into your mouth. Your innocent eyes widen, breathing hitching at the stretch. “You’re okay, you’re okay,” he assures you, caressing the back of your head. “It’s okay. Breathe through your nose, baby.”

When he sees you’ve calmed down some, he pushes your head to take more of him. “That’s it, girl, like that. Deep breaths. Tap my thigh if you need me to stop, yeah?”

You hum in response, eyes fluttering shut.

“Deep breath, gonna push you all the way down, ‘kay?” His hand guides your head down, making your pretty mouth take the entirety of his huge cock until he’s hitting the back of your throat and you gag. “I know, a little more.” He stops when your nose grazes the skin of his lower abdomen, and you look up at him, eyes glossy, eyelashes wet with tears. He almost comes at the sight.

“Now suck, baby,” he says. You obey like the good girl you are, and he inhales sharply through his teeth. “Fuck.”

He lets you get used to the sensation of having him in your mouth while you suck before he says, “Now move your head up and down, girl. We’ll take it at your pace.”

Needless to say, Simon doesn’t last long. Watching your lips around his cock, the way you look up at him with tears spilling from your pretty eyes pushes him over the edge quick. He comes down your throat, grunting and moaning, trying his hardest to keep himself from thrusting into your throat.

“Fuck, baby, c’mere.” He pulls you back up to him, pulling you onto his lap. He uses his thumb to wipe the corner of your mouth, where your saliva and some of his come has gathered, before pushing his thumb into your mouth. “You did so well for me. Now how about you lie on the couch, hm? Lemme return the favor, been dying to eat your pussy all day.”

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Taglist

@booboobear-12 @lilychristine01 @smzyyx @mxsatorisimp @akkahelenaa @crypticlxrsh @m-0-ssy-m-3-ss @actualpoppy @dawnnightshade666 @dethspllz @massivecandycrusade @mentally-unstable-hottie13 @shushyoudontknowme @readinggeeklmao @despairingrat @h0lydrag0ns @poseidonsbichild @sillylittlereader @vanillarosekiss @jangles-the-clown @lem-hhn @doubledizzy22 @http-bell @readingthingy @velvetdimond @thegaywitchofwhimsy @weaniebeaniebaby @havoc973 @lucienofthelakes @keiminds @8pmismybedtime @i-wanabe-yours @happysmappy @jp600fox @moonbluff @hobiebrownenthusiast @dragons-flare @canyonmooncreations @foxintheferns @dreamland08 @fertilise-me @dravenskye @hobiebrownenthusiast @liidiaaag @viviansvault3 @alwayzmsbehavn @nicolebarnes @tysukier @icouldntthinkofanythingclever  @cd-mr 

*if you wanna be added to my Ghost taglist, lmk 💛

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Blog masterlist

[lupusaur]

Golden Retriever!Bob w/ fem!reader (could be read as human or hybrid)

my dog!bob pee kink thoughts (w/ somno)

Bob is gross. Disgusting, perverted, and dirty. He's practically a walking stereotype of innocent sunshine but he has the most depraved desires when it comes to you. He does a good job hiding some of them, but when things get heated some of those wants slip. Especially during his cycles.

So why now, when you're passed out from riding him for hours on end, does he feel like knotting you isn't enough? That he has to take a more territorial approach to marking you as his? He knows its wrong to not wake you up but the way your pussy is gripping his knot makes it seem like it'd be okay. Just this once! He'll try it once for the experience and for sake of mind.

Also he really needs to pee, and he can't bear to untie himself and be outside of your warmth for one second.

So it's okay. Its fine if he does it while still knotted to you. Just a little. Okay, maybe a lot but he'll release it deep inside so there's no spill! “Doing so well… thank you for letting me do this… love you so much…” Whispering his gratitude and praises, he promises this will be the only time this happens. He'll make sure to go to the bathroom before breeding you. Tonight was a mistake that he learned from. It will not happen again.

The next time it happens, you're very much conscious but fucked out to where it's hard to think straight. Bob's cummed plenty of times already, and you've never really felt someone pee in you before. Plus, he's such a cute and well-behaved golden retriever, he'd never use you as a toilet! So why is he crying and apologizing? The poor thing is talking so fast you can barely understand him. “Bob speak slower— ah! Or stop for a second...!” Shaking his head, he just continued crying while fucking his cum and piss deeper into you. “Was an accident I promise won't do it again ‘m sorry please don't hate me please don't—!” This time Bob swears he won't do it again. Even if it felt so good. Even if knowing that he's marked your insides in the most degrading way, it makes him want to fuck you even more. Even if he has thoughts of marking your skin…

No, he shouldn't think down that path. It's not good for him to think of how his scent would stay longer on you, how everyone would know that this pussy belongs to him. That you're so devoted to your mate that you'd allow him to soil you in his filth. Bob wants to cry at the thought. Not because of the guilt he feels but because of how badly he wants to do it. But he won't. It'll remain a thought, a daydream, never to be done.

When you're asleep, he takes special care in stripping you and laying you down on several layers of towels. Just this once. Never again. He just has to experience it one time so he can have a better time imagining it. Bob was such a good dog, saving so much for you today too. He's sure you'd be thanking him for being such a good mate if you were awake. As he lays the tip of his cock right beneath your tummy and empties his bladder, staring in awe as the golden liquid seems to melt into your skin, he smiles.

Yeah, just this once will be okay. He'll rub it all in so you'll smell just like him for weeks.

[rhettrosunsets]

Just Acquaintances - Bob Floyd X Fem!Reader

Pairing: Robert Bob Floyd X Rival Fem!Reader

Category: Rivals To Lovers. Slight Angst. Fluff.

Summary: You knew one thing, you didn't like Bob Floyd and he didn't like you, but when you got get assigned to Top Gun, thing's begin to change. Even if you keep claiming you're just acquaintances.

Based off this ask here!

Masterlist

Warnings: Reader does wear a dress, there's a guy being an asshole at the bar and making suggestive comments about reader, Bob and reader have tension. Reader is very firey and want's to prove herself so badly. Inaccurate military knowledge. No use of Y/N. No description of readers looks.

Notes: Anon thank you so much for suggesting this! I had so much fun getting to write this, and I hope I did your ask justice. ❤️

You couldn’t even remember what your first argument was about during basic training.

It was probably something stupid. You always trying to prove your worth. You always wanted get the last word in, always wanting to succeed. And Bob Floyd always made that so much harder.

From that day forward, you knew one thing, and one thing only. You really didn’t like Bob Floyd. 

People were always shocked when you mentioned that fact. He was so polite, always a gentleman. He never raised his voice at anyone, even you. He took everything as it came, always so grounded, always so assured even if he didn’t boast about it. And it irked you like no other.

The two of you became rivals, always trying to one up the other. Something many people weren't used to seeing from Bob, always used to seeing the polite yet assured version of him. It was something all your peers tried to steer clear from when you two got into it.

You were so fiery, so sharp and always ready to take action as fast as you humanly could. You just wanted so badly to just prove yourself and you wouldn't stop at anything to do it. Bob was steadier, more grounded. He always thought things through and was more consistent with his results. You clashed constantly, or complimented each other depending on who you asked.

Your instructors always said that you brought out the best in each other, always pushing each other to the limit, testing each other like no one else quite could. You would’ve preferred peace and quiet, not new limits.

Eventually, time split the two of you apart as you got stationed to different bases and you couldn't have been more thankful. There were no goodbyes, no long hug’s, no more bickering, no more curt nods in hallways, no more pushing one another. Just orders and silence.

And maybe, just maybe, that should’ve been the end of you and Bob Floyd forever. Just a slight bookmark in one's path. But the universe seemed to have other plans. 

The moment you walked into The Hard Deck for the first time your heart sank.

There he was. The man you thought you'd never run into again.

Bob Floyd.

He looked up the same second you did, your eyes meeting. His eye’s seemingly doing a double take just as you had done a moment earlier. He gave you an unreadable stare, a distinct change from the polite smile he had while talking to the other aviators just a moment before you had walked in. 

It was the kind of look that always made you feel like he was thinking five steps ahead of you. The kind of look that made you feel like he always knew something you didn’t. The type of look you’ve missed.

“Lieutenant.” he greeted as you walked over with a curt nod of his head. You responded with a nod back, before muttering out a “Floyd.” In response.

Phoenix blinked between you two her eyes sensing the tension between you. "There's some history there.” she muttered to the rest of the aviators behind her, all watching the scene go down in front of them.

Hangman grinned widely before chuckling out “Exes?” as he nodded at the two of you.

You scoffed, while Bob seemingly choked on his drink before you muttered. “Absolutely not.”

Everyone else thought the tension was flirtatious, like it was a cat and mouse game you two had going. But you knew better, you knew that you and Bob Floyd didn’t even want to touch each other with a ten foot pole.

At least that’s what you told yourself.

Weeks had passed, you avoided him and he avoided you. It was like a truce compared to your training days. You expected this to all be over after the Uranium Mission. But then you all had gotten called into a briefing.A briefing telling you that the Dagger Squad was about to become permanent.

When the Dagger Squad became permanent, something started shifting between you and Bob Floyd. It was small things at first. He started holding the door open for you when you guys walked into the building at the same time. You stopped glaring at him when he got the final shot during trainings. He began to sit near you during lunch. You even laughed when he made a comment about Rooster's mustache.

You didn’t notice the way his eyes seemed to light up at the sound of your laugh and the sight of you throwing your head back because of something he had said.

But others began to notice, even if you didn't.

“We’re not enemies. We're just acquaintances, nothing less nothing more.” you told Natasha one night at The Hard Deck, and it was true. You don’t think you were ever enemies. Rivals, of course. But never truly enemies.

She raised her glass as she looked at you with a raised eyebrow and said “To progress, then.”

Then came the night where everything came crashing down at once.

You’d finished an absolutely brutal week of training, and you decided you just wanted to look nice and dress up for yourself. For once, you weren’t in a flight suit. Instead, you wore a cute outfit, a soft dress that you loved on yourself and how it makes you feel. You weren’t what anyone expected you to be tonight, you were just you. No flight suit, no expectations, just you wearing something that made you feel good and confident.

The Hard Deck was absolutely packed. The jukebox blared loudly and the rest of the squad besides Bob was already a few beers in. You were leaning against the bar, sipping on your drink and laughing with Fanboy when he showed up.

Some random guy in knock off aviators, with an ego so big you could feel it the moment he walked near you.

“You look like you could use company, pretty girl.” he said, sliding in to the chair next to you, way too close for comfort. You shifted your stance awkwardly trying to shuffle away from the man, politely nodding a soft smile before responding with a simple “I’m good, thank you.” before attempting to end the conversation then and there.

He ignored that entirely not taking the hint of you leaning away from him, as he leaned even closer to you his breath fanning your shoulder. “You sure? You got a smile that men would gladly go to war for sweetheart.”

You clenched your jaw your eyes darkening a bit, before trying one more time. “M’really not interested. I'd appreciate if you moved.”

And that’s when Bob appeared out of seemingly nowhere.

“You heard her” he said, his tone way too calm for the rage present in his eyes, and the way his hands where clenching into fists.

The guy scoffed with a laugh before sputtering out a “Who the hell are you? Her fucking babysitter?”

Bob stepped forward, his eye’s filled with something much stronger than anger. “I’m her squadmate. And I'm also someone who doesn’t like repeating himself, so I suggest you leave.” He said firmly, leaving no room for questions.

The dude held his hands up, walking away as he muttered something about "psychopathic aviators" and you being a bitch anyways.

The moment he was gone, you spun around to face Bob. “What the hell was that?” You exclaimed with your hands, your face morphed into something between hurt and anger. He blinked, taken aback by your intense reaction. “I was just trying-”

You cut him off

“I had it Bob, I didn’t need you stepping in like I’m fucking helpless!” You said harshly, your voice betraying you a bit as emotion seeped through.

“You didn’t look helpless” he said, his voice quiet but firm. “You looked uncomfortable, I just-”

“You embarrassed me in front of everyone, Bob.” You said loudly, your eyes welling up.

Bob looked like he’d been slapped as he saw your defeated face and welling eyes. The bar seemed to disappear from both of your ears. All that existed was the frustrated flush on your face, the tears in your eyes, and the regret already forming as you saw the way Bob’s jaw flexed.

He sighed loudly, before looking at you. “I can’t pretend anymore.”

You frowned confusing lining your features “What? What are you talking about Bob.”

“I like you” he said simply, like he didn’t just knock your breath away.

“I’ve always liked you. I just didn’t know how to act on it because we were always arguing. You’re so fucking smart and witty. You don’t take shit from anyone, but you’re one of the most kindhearted people I know, and it drives me insane knowing I've never been able to have you.” He said with a tone of voice that made it sure that you knew you couldn't argue with him on this.

You open your mouth, but no sound comes out as you stand there bewildered, your eyes glossy and wide.

“And I get it if you don’t feel the same” he said as he looked away from your confused expression. “But I wasn’t gonna stand there and let some asshole disrespect you. I couldn’t do that, you deserve so much better than an asshole like that. I know you can handle yourself, but he couldn’t get away with treating you like you were an object and not a human.”

And suddenly before you even knew it, your hands moved before your brain and you grabbed the sides of his face tilting it down toward yours.

His eyes widened just for a moment, before your lips crashed into his. It was years of tension, of stolen glances and arguing all combined into one. It was hot and aching and full of something you hadn’t even realized you needed to feel.

When you pulled back, your breath hitched as you looked at Bob, the both of you seemingly dazed. Bob laughed softly as his face still was dazed “So is that a yes?”

You smirked, wrapping your arms around his neck pulling him close again. “That’s a shut up and let's do it again, Floyd.’”

And he did. Right there, in the middle of the Hard Deck with the whole Dagger Squad watching like it was a soap opera.

Hangman whistled loudly, before shouting a “I knew that wasn’t platonic!” While Phoenix raised a shot glass with a knowing smirk on her lips and yelled. “To not being acquaintances.”

You snorted softly before leaning back in and kissing Bob one last time, feeling his hands wrap around your waist.

Maybe you were more than just acquaintances after all.

[l0s3rd0wnt0wn]

you know what just start rage baiting the batfam they make me mad so I'll take pleasure in making them mad

They'll just make it worse for you

I can just imagine a reader saying something completely wrong just to piss off the bats. You know some of their biggest interests and the things they’re completely obsessed with, so you shit on them or spread misinformation about it just to piss them off. Like once you talked shit about Jane Austen in front of Jason; he was practically twitching, ready to throttle you, but then he realized you never read the books. So now you're on his lap as he reads Pride and Prejudice to you, telling you all the tiny details. You're trying to rage-bait Tim, saying that Pluto is a planet, and you can't wait to argue with him about it like some Redditor. But instead, you get taken to Wayne Manor's roof to stargaze with him. You're crapping on Damien's anatomy, and he's making you pose for him to paint or sketch you. You're hating on Duke's music taste, saying Youngboy is better, and he's making you an entire playlist, forcing you to listen to it. Rage-bait never works with them because they'll get pissed off for a minute and then decide to subject you to the worst torture known to man: family bonding. You never decide to rage-bait; you are not ready to swing against the trapeze.

[warfaredoll]

𝐬𝐚𝐦𝐞 𝐝𝐚𝐦𝐧 𝐭𝐢𝐦𝐞

˖ ݁𖥔 ݁˖ warfare ⋮ smut w plot ⋮ Ray & Tommy ⋮ x f!reader ˖ ݁𖥔 ݁˖

𝐛𝐚𝐫𝐫𝐚𝐜���𝐬 𝐛𝐮𝐧𝐧𝐲!𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

3some, creampie, spitting, fingering, oral, jealous Ray

Ray’s hand was already on your thigh, thumb stroking in little circles as if coaxing you into a yes you’d already given him countless times. that small cocky smile tugged at his mouth, the one he only let show when it was just you and him and he was already unbuckling his belt. the mattress dipped under your hips as he pressed in close, his lips meeting yours, slowly like he wanted to sink into it the same way he sank into you every time

you barely heard the creak of the door, but Ray did. his lips parted from yours with a wet pop, as he turned frowning

Tommy stood there, one hand still on the knob, like he knew damn well what he was interrupting and maybe liked it. “Hey” he said casually, like he hadn’t just walked in on Ray halfway to having you spread

Ray’s jaw twitched “Jesus Tommy, fucking knock” he muttered, though he hadn’t moved away from you. his hand still on your thigh, fingers squeezing just a little tighter

“I did knock” Tommy said, stepping in like he belonged there too. his eyes went to you, already a little glassy eyed, cheeks flushed, lips kiss bruised “Door was half open.”

“That don’t mean ‘come the fuck in.’” Ray’s voice was sharp, but not mad. just… a bit on edge. he looked back at you, then at Tommy, then back again. he wanted to tell Tommy to get out, that this was his time, that you were his fucking girl, not anyone’s entertainment tonight. but the words caught in his throat, because he knew what you were. you were the sweet little barracks bunny, always so giving, so good, always wet and willing when any of them needed to blow off steam, and Ray. Ray had just been lucky enough to get to you first tonight

still, he’d been the first to kiss you, the first to slide inside, feel you clench around him with that little gasping moan he loved. and now Tommy was just going to walk in like he could have the same thing? no warning, no asking?

Ray didn’t move, but his grip on your thigh tightened again. he leaned down, brushed your cheek with his knuckles “you okay with this?” he asked, but he didn’t wait for an answer before glancing at Tommy “She’s already mine tonight. you want in, you wait. or you get over here and ask real nice.”

Tommy blinked surprised, Ray never shared. but then again, you weren’t just anyone. you were their girl, the one who always took what they gave with a smile and a moan

“Fuck man. you can’t wait?” Ray snapped, he stepped back, off the bed, he stood there half-hard and annoyed

but Tommy didn’t stop, didn’t even flinch

He stepped right up beside Ray at the edge of the bed, tall and sure. he raised his hand, fingertips dragging lightly across your cheek until he tapped gently twice. just enough to get your eyes on him

“cmon bunny” he said “Tell Ray how sharing wouldn’t hurt.”

Ray’s eyebrows drew together, his mouth twitching in disbelief, like he wanted to deck Tommy right there, but couldn’t. because he’d heard you before, moaning through a mouthful of cock while Erik pumped into your pussy and Elliott claimed your ass. Ray had heard it all, seen it, jacked off after it. that time you’d taken all three… Erik, Sam, Elliott, and come so hard you’d cried a little

he knew what you were capable of. he’d fucked you open himself, watched your little body take what no one else could, and loved it. he just didn’t want to see someone else in it. not now, not Tommy

but Tommy knew you too. knew how your thighs twitched when you were trying not to beg, how you bit your lip like that when your mind was caught between want and guilt. and he could see it now, see you chew the inside of your cheek, hesitating, glancing from one man to the other like the choice could possibly be hard

except it was. because you wanted Ray. wanted the warmth of his hands, the way he kissed like it meant something, like it hurt to let you go. but Tommy, he was impossible to deny. he knew how to touch you like you were his from the start, like the moment he stepped in the room you’d already agreed

you looked at both of them. Ray stiff holding himself back, fists slightly clenched, and Tommy calm, sleeves rolled up, watching you. and you bit your lip again, this time softer

then your hand reached out and found Ray’s, warm and calloused and trembling just slightly under your fingers. you rubbed slow, soothing circles into his palm, not meeting his eyes like it was an apology

Ray’s jaw tightened, his throat bobbing as he swallowed the swell of emotions in his chest. he didn’t want to do this, not with Tommy. but he saw that look in your eyes, that soft little tilt of your head, that pleading look that didn’t need words. and fuck, how could he say no to you when you were like that?

Tommy saw it too. saw the moment your mouth softened, your lips parting just barely like your body already made the decision. he stepped closer, his fingers brushing over your collarbone now “you want me to join?” he asked again, voice lower now. his hands undid the cuffs of his shirt, one button at a time, as if he already knew the answer

Ray didn’t move, not at first. but his thumb rubbed back against your hand now, a slow little stroke that said he wasn’t going away

you nodded, silent, but your knees shifted again, thighs parting slightly on the bed, your other hand coming up to rest on Tommy’s forearm, guiding him closer

Ray cursed under his breath, but stepped back in, standing on the opposite side of you, his hand still in yours

you led them to the bed. Ray stripped first, yanking off that olive compression shirt with a low grunt, muscles flexing, his dog tags clinking faintly as they dropped against his chest. his pants came next, then his boxers, until he stood hard in front of you, thick and veiny, his cock flushed deep red at the tip, curving slightly up toward his stomach

Tommy followed, more slower, he kicked his boots off with a thud and then undid his belt, pants sliding down his hips. his cock was already hard too, tall, smoother than Ray’s, a little slimmer but longer, the head glistening with precum

you stared, lips parting as you took them in. they weren’t like Erik, Sam, or Elliott. those three had their own shape, their own size. but Ray and Tommy were something else. both hard, both eager

they sat down, one on each side of you, Ray leaned in first, his fingers threading gently through your hair, tugging your head back just enough before he kissed you again, this time rougher, making up for what Tommy had interrupted earlier. his lips crushed yours, teeth dragging along your bottom lip

Tommy’s lips brushed your neck, lightly at first, but you gasped when he licked up the curve, dragging his tongue slow and wet from the crook to your collarbone. “Mmmh” you moaned into Ray’s mouth

Ray groaned into the kiss, hand moving to your hip, fingers digging into the soft flesh. his mouth left yours with a wet click, trailing warm open mouthed kisses down the side of your face, over your jaw, until he was kissing the top of your breast, while Tommy mirrored him on the other side, his lips brushing the soft curve of the swell

you arched between them, the fabric of your bra caught between their mouths

and then, with a flick of your fingers behind your back, the clasp gave, the bra slipping down your arms, catching briefly before falling to the bed

they didn’t waste a second

Ray’s mouth latched onto your left nipple, warm and wet, tongue swirling slowly around the stiffening bud, lips tugging just enough to make you whimper. he sucked softly, like the moment narrowed to just your tit in his mouth, his tongue flicking up and over until your hips rolled unconsciously toward his thigh

Tommy cupped your other breast, kneading with a strong hand while his mouth met your nipple, sucking hard and fast, his teeth grazing with just enough pressure to make your thighs clench “fuck, these tits” he muttered between licks “could stay here all night.”

Ray chuckled low against your breast, never lifting his head, just shifting to nibble the edge before sucking you in deeper. his hand stroked down your side, pulling your body closer to his, his thigh slotting between yours

you gasped, your back arched, nipples caught in two mouths. Ray’s tongue warm and slow, Tommy’s lips eager and fast. one hand reached for Ray’s hair, your fingers tangling in the short buzz, holding him against you. the other found Tommy’s thigh, gripping it tight

your panties clung to your pussy, the cotton darkened and sticky between your legs, you could feel it every time your hips shifted, their mouths were still on your chest, your skin glistening with spit, lips swollen from suckling your tits, tongues flicking lazily, like they weren’t in a rush to stop

your hands found their cocks. one in each fist and they both hissed through their teeth when your fingers wrapped around them. Ray’s was heavy and hot in your palm, thick enough that your fingertips didn’t meet. Tommy’s was slimmer but longer, your hand sliding slick over the precum at his tip. you stroked them both slowly, feeling the subtle differences, the way Tommy twitched when your thumb teased just beneath the head, the way Ray pushed into your grip like he needed more

Tommy groaned against your breast, mouth pulling off with a wet pop, lips slick and parted “Fuck, she’s gonna make me cum just like this” he muttered, eyes dropping to watch your hands working them, his tongue darting out to taste your spit on his lip

Ray’s hand slid down, across your belly, fingers dragging over the waistband of your panties until he reached the warmth between your thighs. he groaned low, a real sound, almost in disbelief. his fingertips pressed into the fabric, feeling the way it stuck, the wet squish of your pussy through cotton

“Jesus Christ” he muttered, and smiled into your skin before pulling his mouth off your nipple with a little flick of his tongue. his breath was warm against the trail of saliva cooling on your chest, and you shivered as the air met your wet skin, nipples stiffening into hard little peaks

he leaned up, mouth brushing your ear “You ready?” he whispered. then he added your name at the end. your name. the one none of the other men even asked for. the one you told him once, when you had your first sweet encounter. Ray kept it like a secret, never sharing, never saying it around the others

you looked at him, and nodded slowly

Ray kissed your temple, almost tender, before sitting back

Tommy exhaled sharply “Alright” he groaned, shifting on the bed beside you, his cock slick and flushed from your touch “get on your hands and knees.”

you obeyed

you moved carefully, the mattress dipping under your knees as you turned away from them, your hands on the sheets, your ass lifted. the slick between your legs gleaming in the soft light, your panties riding up into the folds of your pussy, a wet outline they both stared at

Ray moved first, pulling them down slow, savoring the way the soaked fabric peeled from your skin with a sticky sound “Goddamn” he muttered, watching the mess you’d made. your folds were glistening, flushed, parted slightly from how swollen you were with want

Tommy knelt behind you, his hands already on your hips, thumbs brushing the curve of your ass “Look at that pussy” he breathed “all that just from us sucking your tits?”

you whimpered, your face pressed to the sheets, ass arched higher

Ray slid a hand down your back, fingers trailing your spine “You ready for both of us?” he asked, his voice back to that rough gentleness only he had, the kind that said he wanted you fucked out but still looking at him when it was over

you nodded again, this time needier, a soft “Yes” coming out of your mouth

Tommy was already lining up behind you, hands spreading your ass, cock heavy and throbbing as he leaned in, his tip brushing the soaked, swollen entrance of your pussy, your body so ready for it, already clenching around nothing, begging to be filled. but just before he pushed forward, Ray’s hand found his shoulder

“Don’t” Ray said, quiet but sharp

Tommy froze, blinked, then let out a short laugh “Why?” he smirked, glancing over his shoulder “She your girlfriend or something?”

Ray’s jaw flexed, his fingers twitching slightly where they still rested on your lower back. he didn’t answer for a second, then finally muttered “No.”

because you weren’t

not officially. you hadn’t called it that, and neither had he. you fucked, you kissed. you slept together, not just after sex, but through the night, legs tangled under the same sheet like that space belonged to both of you. he knew how you sounded when you finished, how you looked when you were trying to hide the tremble in your lips, how you whispered his name softer when it wasn’t about the orgasm but about him

Ray didn’t like sharing. not your pussy. not while he was here, not when he was hard and aching and full of that kind of possessiveness he never let anyone else see

“It’s not about that” Ray said finally, his voice gruff “She’s mine tonight. you want a hole, you pick a different one.”

Tommy stared at him for a second, then shrugged “Okay man.” no anger, just a slow move around the bed, his cock bobbing as he moved, expression calm and faintly amused

he crouched at the edge of the bed in front of you, his knees spread wide on either side of your arms. you lifted your head, panting, strands of hair clinging to your cheek as Tommy leaned in

his hands came up to cup your face, surprisingly gentle, thumbs stroking over your skin “Pretty fucking thing” he murmured. then he reached down and grabbed his cock, guiding it up, not to your mouth, but to your cheek

smack

the thick head slapped against your left cheek. not hard, just firm enough to jolt a surprised squeak from your throat. you gasped, blinking up at him

then the other side. slap

you flinched slightly, eyes shutting waiting for the next one, your cheeks stinging just faintly with the wet imprint of him, Tommy let out a low teasing laugh, and you smiled. just a little. your lips curled at the corner, teeth sinking into your bottom lip to keep it in check

“Good bunny” Tommy chuckled, brushing his cock along your lips now, smearing a line of precome over the curve of your mouth

behind you, Ray watched the exchange with something beginning to settle in his chest. but he didn’t stop. he slid two fingers down the curve of your ass, spreading you wider, watching your pussy open and glisten. he exhaled hard through his nose, then leaned in and kissed your lower back

because while Tommy played at your mouth, Ray was treating you like something worth taking his time with

he sank to his knees on the bed, hands gripping your hips with that same attention he always showed your body. his thumbs spread your folds, and he took a moment, just a moment to stare at the wet mess of your pussy. his cock twitched, desperate to be inside

Ray loved your pussy. he loved the way it opened for him, stretched for him, held him tight like your body knew him and only him. he buried his face between your cheeks, tongue flat against your folds, licking one long, hot stripe from your entrance to your clit

you gasped around Tommy’s cock as he slid it into your mouth at the same time, just the head, letting you suck and swirl your tongue while Ray ate you from behind

Ray moaned into your pussy, drunk on the taste “Fuck” he rasped, spreading your ass wider, his tongue flicking your clit now, fast, then slow, then fast again

no matter how many other cocks you’d taken, how many cocks you’d moaned around, how many times you’d been stretched and filled. it was always different with Ray. always deeper, always more

he knelt back up, finally guiding the head of his cock to your entrance, dragging it through your slick folds once, twice. then he looked down at you, still on your hands and knees, sucking Tommy’s cock, your cheeks flushed from the slaps, your ass trembling, waiting for Ray.

Ray’s hand slid up your back again, and he leaned over you, mouth close to your ear

“gonna fuck you now” he whispered “you’re gonna finish on my cock before he even touches your throat.”

then he pushed in

Ray slid into your pussy in one smooth thrust, the thick head parting your folds with a slow, stretching burn that had your mouth falling open before Tommy even touched you again. the sting was sweet and sharp, your slick pussy wrapping around him like it knew his shape by memory, because it did. your walls clenched, like they’d been aching for him all day, and Ray grunted deep in his chest, fingers digging hard into your waist

“Goddamn” he groaned, voice husky “still so tight for me”

behind you, the slap of his hips meeting your ass was already there, his cock bottoming out with every thrust, his balls slapping wet against your pussy with sticky, dirty sounds as he fucked into you, slow at first, savoring the way your body trembled around him. one hand slid up to grip your ass, spreading your cheeks wider, letting him thrust deeper and harder

your breath hitched, right before Tommy shoved his cock deeper into your mouth

“Open up bunny” he groaned, voice low and strained, his fingers stroking your cheek for half a second

and you did. you opened wide for him, tongue flat, eyes half lidded, but there was no warning, no slow entry, just the sudden, brutal push of his hips forward as he fed his cock down your throat in one hard thrust

you gagged, your throat squeezing around him as your eyes watered, tears instantly gathering at the corners from the force of it. the tip slammed against the back of your throat, and your whole body jolted, but you didn’t pull away. you couldn’t. Tommy’s hands grabbed your head, one fisted in your hair, the other gripping your jaw tight, holding you steady as his cock filled your mouth to the base

“Fuck yes” he huffed, head falling back, a broken groan leaving his throat “look at that mouth, taking it like a fucking champ.”

you barely had time to breathe, tears falling freely as Tommy pulled back just enough for you to suck in a ragged gasp and then shoved in again, faster, harder

he wasn’t letting you set the pace

Tommy was fucking your throat now, his hips thrusting forward over and over with wet slaps, spit and precum drooling from your lips, pooling at the corners of your mouth, dripping down onto the bed beneath you. your nose brushed the hair at the base of his shaft with every thrust

Ray didn’t stop either. his grip on your waist tightened, his other hand palming your ass as he fucked into your pussy with the kind of rhythm you loved, deep, rough, perfect. his cock grazed that spot that made your thighs shake, your pussy clench, and your back arch

the sound of your wet pussy sucking him in filled the room, sticky and messy, Ray’s balls slapping your folds with each thrust, louder now as he picked up speed. the force of it pushed you into Tommy’s cock even more, your whole body between them, stuffed front and back, no space left for anything

and both of them were talking

Ray’s voice was low and breathless against your back, “that’s it… take it…. this pussy’s mine, fuck… look how good she’s taking us.”

while Tommy’s tone was rough, and cocky, hips grinding into your face as he groaned “bunny, you’re a goddamn dream… take it all. yeah that’s it, choke on it.”

you tried to moan, tried to answer, but all that came out was a desperate, muffled sound around Tommy’s cock, your throat clenched, as drool ran down your chin

you were completely fucked, and you loved every second of it

Tommy’s grip on your head tightened, hips still grinding into your throat, as he looked down at you, sweat forming on his brow, breath ragged “Bunny” he groaned, cupping your cheeks tighter between thrusts “tell Ray how much you love getting fucked by me.”

you tried to shake your head, tried to look at Ray who was still buried balls deep in your pussy behind you, but Tommy didn’t let you move. his cock thrust deeper instead, forcing another gag from you, your eyes watering even more

Tommy didn’t need an answer. not a real one. because this wasn’t about fairness, this was about fucking your throat open while watching Ray lose composure behind you

he chuckled, cruel and sweet all at once. “does he even know you love getting carried with cock inside you?” he sneered, his hand brushing damp hair from your cheek mockingly “Hmm? has he ever carried you like I do, bunny?”

and he wasn’t wrong. you remembered that night when Tommy had lifted you against the wall, your legs wrapped around his waist, your back slammed to the wall while he fucked you so hard your moans had echoed down the hallway. he was the first. the only one who’d ever fucked you in the air, held you tight, pounded into you until you were sobbing and coming down his cock while clinging to him

and now he was shoving himself down your throat again

“Whose cock do you love more?” he bit out “me… or baby Ray’s?”

Ray let out a half-choked noise, part groan and part grunt at the nickname, his rhythm slowing for just a second. his hand tensed hard on your waist as he thrust into your pussy again, harder now

you gagged again, your throat squeezing around Tommy’s cock, unable to speak, unable to answer, but Tommy didn’t care

“That’s right” he groaned, looking down at your wide, watery eyes, mouth stuffed full “you got nothing to say.”

then he spat. warm saliva splattered across your cheek, sliding slowly down toward your jaw, sticking to the trail of tears and spit already dripping down your chin

your pussy clenched at the shock of it, humiliation. your thighs trembled and Ray felt it, felt that around his cock, how your walls squeezed tighter as you moaned helplessly around Tommy

Ray’s hand came down across your ass, the sound loud and sharp, your body jerking from the impact

“you love getting spat on, huh?” Ray rasped his breath catching in his throat

you couldn’t respond, your mouth still full of Tommy’s cock but your body clenched so hard around Ray he nearly lost control

“Shit” he muttered under his breath, grinding deep into your pussy “guess we’ll have to try that next time.”

then, without pulling out, Ray licked two of his fingers, reached between your legs, and slid one finger into your pussy beside his cock

your body shuddered. the stretch was instant, your pussy now full by more than just his cock. you moaned, gargled and desperate around Tommy

Ray grunted, the feeling of his cock pressed against his own finger inside you driving him wild “you’re fucking unbelievable” he groaned “so good.”

then he slid another finger in

you whined around Tommy’s cock, body tensing hard as your pussy gave, taking both fingers and his cock all at once

“Fucking look at her” Ray moaned “She’s swallowing it. goddamn greedy pussy.”

Tommy looked down, watching the way your body trembled, your mouth still full of him, your nose pressed to his skin

“Bunny’s fucking filthy” he muttered “and she loves it.”

Tommy’s cock went into your throat again, your lips stretched wide, spit slicking down your chin in messy strings. your throat flexed and tightened, trying to fit him, trying to breathe around him

your hand slid up his thigh, trembling, and found his balls

you cupped them gently at first, your fingertips brushing the tight skin, then massaged them slowly, rolling them in your palm like you knew exactly what he needed and fuck, you did

Tommy gasped, a moan coming straight from his throat. “Fuuuck” he stuttered, his voice all strangled, hips stopping mid thrust as the pleasure came over him. his head fell back, mouth open, as he hissed through clenched teeth “don’t stop bunny- shit, that’s… fucking perfect.”

Ray behind you, was pounding harder now, losing rhythm. his thrusts got sloppier, rougher, his fingers digging into your waist and ass as he pulled you back into each slam of his hips. his balls slapped wet against your pussy, thick smack after smack, the sound filthy and filling the room

you felt it, all of it

the way Tommy’s cock throbbed on your tongue. the way Ray’s cock fucked deep inside your pussy with every thrust. the way your body trembled

and then it hit. your orgasm washed over you, your pussy clenching down around Ray, your moan a helpless muffled sound around Tommy’s cock. your thighs jerked, trying to close tight, but Ray only shoved them open wider, keeping you spread

you sobbed through it, twitching “yeah, that’s it” Ray breathed, watching your pussy clench “right on my cock, just like that. you feel fucking amazing”

Tommy was close too. your throat clenched, your hand still kneading his balls, and he let out a moan “fuckk goning to fucking cum-”

He slammed in deep, holding your face flush to him, his cock buried to the base down your throat

you nose was crushed against him

Tommy finished first. his cum spilled straight down your throat, thick and salty, flooding your mouth before you even had a chance to react. you gurgled softly around him, gagging slightly as he held you there, eyes closed

then he pulled out with a slick pop, his cock twitching in his hand, and you gasped for air, your mouth going open

you stuck out your tongue, slick and heavy with his cum, eyes watery but proud, your cheeks flushed

Tommy looked down at you and smiled “Goddamn.”

then you swallowed, Tommy groaned “Let me see, bunny.”

you opened your mouth again, tongue clean, glistening with spit but no cum left. not a drop, all of it swallowed whole

“Good” he rasped, cupping your chin for a second “Fucking perfect.”

Ray was next, his grip on your hips hard, his cock thrusting in and out of your pussy, he buried himself as deep as he could, groaning through gritted teeth

“Shit, I’m- fucking”

he came with a sharp, ragged groan, hips jerking, his cock twitching inside you as he spilled thick, warm cum into your pussy. his whole body tensed behind you, then fell forward, forehead resting between your shoulders, one arm wrapped tight around your belly, holding you close as he filled you up

you both stayed like that, shaking, breathless, skin slick with sweat, spit and sex

Ray kissed the back of your neck softly, still inside you, his cum already leaking out around his cock

Tommy exhaled with a chuckle, dragging the back of his hand across his mouth

Tommy rose from the bed, his breath still ragged, a lazy grin tugging at his mouth while he reached for his shirt. his boots thudded softly as he shuffled around, tucking himself back into his pants. he glanced at the two of you on the bed, you on your knees, Ray still buried inside you, and offered a smirk over his shoulder

“Not bad sharing, baby Ray.” Tommy muttered, buttoning his fly “let’s do this again.”

Ray didn’t respond. Tommy moved closer and left a quick, small kiss to your lips, barely even there but looking right at Ray as he did.

Ray didn’t even look at him. just stared down at your back, his jaw tight, still breathing through the last of his orgasm. Tommy’s footsteps echoed softly as he left the room, door swinging open with a creak and then shutting behind him with a click

Ray waited until the silence settled

then he pulled out. slow and careful his cock slick and your pussy leaking with both your wetness and his cum. your thighs trembled from the your orgasm, your pussy still clenching weakly as the emptiness settled in

but Ray didn’t let it sit

he leaned down immediately, hands gentle on your thighs, spreading you open just enough before his mouth met your overstimulated pussy

you gasped, hips jerking, but Ray just held you still and moaned softly into you. his tongue licked at the mess, his lips sealing around your entrance to drink every drop of his own cum spilling out. he was careful, soft where Tommy had been rough, cleaning you like this was how he made it right

because Ray always cleaned up after his mess

you reached up and wiped Tommy’s spit off your cheek with the back of your hand

Ray pulled back after one last long lick, then kissed your pussy, just a soft press of his lips, before sitting back beside you on the bed

you shifted, your body feeling heavy and tired, you sat back on your heels with a quiet sigh. Ray was right there, his hand finding yours, and you leaned in without needing to think about it

your lips met his in a kiss that was tender and sweet, none of that desperation from earlier. just you and him

“next time” you whispered, your voice honest and quiet against his lips “just you and me.”

you kissed his cheek like you always did when it just you two.

and Ray turned his face into your kiss, eyes shut, nuzzling into the crook of your neck with a soft hum. he didn’t say anything, he didn’t have to.

Ray and barracks bunny situationship sneak 🤫

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