#yes this is semi-targeted

[chasmbreach]

hayyyyyyy reminder i don't give a fuck about what you ship just be a nice person please and thank you <33333

i love my friends dreemurr-skelememer and digglesgiggles and megaloserrr and bonejello and hazerun3 and you can't stop me

[soup-of-the-daisies]

[opens fic] “moony has always been the smartest out of all of us” [closes fic]

[dubiousdisco]

*some of these are considered semi canon and it's not my fault please calm down

¹ I'm not putting joker/zatanna here

[dragonsrcool4real]

this makes me want to kill…. …………….. “never-boring”………………

[the-californicationist]

They Help You Practice

Task Force 141 asks you to be the bait for a secret assignment. So, they make you audition for the role. You end up getting gangbanged by the whole team and loving it!

TW: gangbang, vaginal sex, anal sex, oral sex, gay sex, degradation, explicitly consensual, spit? please check AO3 link at bottom for full tag list

You let yourself into his office, shutting the door behind you, and stood before him at a sharp parade rest, waiting to be informed about your fate. 

“Sergeant, thank you for coming. There is no need for formalities. This is just a chat.”

You moved to a more relaxed rest and nodded. 

Price continued,

“This is going to be quite the ask. Would you be willing to perform duties which are…outside of your current scope?”

“Yes, sir,” you responded just as you should have, as you were trained to, but Price was hoping you would understand exactly what you would be getting yourself into. 

“I need you to go undercover to a Konni restaurant cover in Minsk…as bait. Am I making myself clear?”

A pause. But, to your credit, you didn’t flinch. You did raise an eyebrow and ask a clarifying query,

“What kind of bait, sir?”

“Our next target, Dimitri Sokolov, will be at the Black Pearl bar in Minsk tomorrow, and we won’t get a better chance to lure him away from his bodyguards. He almost never makes public appearances, so he must be making an exception. Sokolov has,” he paused for a moment, trying to find the words, making general, suggestive motions over his own chest, “particular tastes in his women. You just so happen to have the right profile for the job. Again, this is not an order, Sergeant. I need to know if you’re willing to accept.”

“Yes, sir,” you tried to appear fully in control. You knew your breasts were large, but you had never been asked to use them as a weapon. There was a first time for everything, you supposed. You would do anything to help the team.

The captain loved your composure. He knew you would be perfect for the job. 

“Good. Let's brief the team.”

Price walked with you down to the meeting room at the end of the hall and found Soap, Ghost, and Gaz sitting in the desk chairs every way except the way they were designed, lounging over the furniture like big cats, melting into the various surfaces they encountered. They fixed themselves when the captain walked in. 

“Gentlemen,” Price opened, “this is our bait. Her code name is Rabbit. Rabbit, this is Soap, Ghost, and Gaz.”

You nodded politely and resumed a semi-formal rest position. 

The men had noticed you around the base but hadn’t been formally introduced. You were a desk rider, but still, you were hard to miss. The baggy military clothing had almost managed to conceal a bounty of soft curves, but your lush body persisted beneath it, and the outlines of your feminine form made heinous suggestions in the fabric. Unfortunately for them, you didn’t hang around the gym or the common area enough for them to have generated a fully accurate image of your enticing body, but they were certain it was delicious. They watched you like peckish wolves. Waiting hungrily, shifting in their seats in anticipation. For what, you weren’t sure.

“Rabbit is going undercover for us to take down Sokolov, Vladimir Makarov’s new shipping controller. He has a particular penchant for,” Price paused just long enough for anyone to understand his true meaning, “certain types of women. Rabbit fits the mold, so all she needs is the gear and the training.”

Price cut open three large cardboard boxes to reveal slinky dresses and a number of questionable garments. 

“I’ll need to try them on,” you offered, “Do you want me to get changed, Captain?”

“Sounds good. Come back in when you’re all set,” he smiled, enjoying the view as you left the room. 

Ghost crossed his arms, clearly with quite a mouthful to share and but refusing to. Gaz stared down at the knife he was playing with, bashful. But Soap would not be cowed, and as soon as you left, he said,

“Feeding her to the sharks like bait, Captain? I dinnae ken any of us was so expendable.”

“Soap,” Price warned, “the sergeant is more than capable of handling -”

“I wasnae askin’ about the lassie’s capabilities. Send her in to slit his throat with a knife in her hand, for all I care. But to send her in unguarded, unarmed? No. It’s not right,” Soap crossed his arms. 

“He’s got a point, Captain. Why take the risk of losing an operative?” Ghost spoke coldly. 

Price furrowed his brow at their short-sightedness,

“And do what, exactly? Have the Russians scurry back underground at the first hint of an assassination attempt? We’ve failed that mission three times, boys. I’ll not have this go south again.”

“I’m sure she is capable, Captain. But, is Rabbit committed to this plan?” Gaz asked. 

“Sure,” Price tried to sound reassuring, “we spoke in my office. She agreed to come down here. Besides, she’ll have you three as backup. You won’t let anything happen to her.”

Gaz did not seem convinced. All three soldiers wore a scowl on their faces, and even though Ghost’s was obscured by his mask, his body language communicated his displeasure. Price carefully ashed his cigar to renew the glowing tip, taking a long drag while they waited for you to return. 

You were back without too much of a delay, but when you walked in, your colleagues were visibly stunned. They didn’t recognize you at first. A short black dress had replaced your camouflage fatigues, showing off miles and miles of smooth, shining skin. Your thick thighs stretched the silky fabric, and your ass threatened to escape from the edge of the dress with every step you took. Your new heels clacked sharply against the cold concrete, making your legs flex and tense, showing off your well-formed musculature. You did not miss squat day very often, apparently.

But, the assets you were trying to use for this particular mission were the real stars of the show. Your heavy breasts battled against the low dip of the dress, providing a deep display of cleavage, hinting at pink perky nipples hidden just below the line of the black silk. Your tits jiggled as you struck the floor with each careful step, making the room full of men breathe a little heavier at the sight. 

Soap’s big mouth betrayed them all,

“Christ in Heaven. There you are, bonnie.”

Ghost backhanded him hard on the shoulder. Price glowered.

You had put on a little more makeup than might be socially acceptable in an office setting, making the suggestive outfit complete. Finally, as you stood at the head of the meeting table, you took out your task force regulation braid and pulled your fingers through your hair, breaking up your long waves as they spilled down your neck and back. 

You smiled,

“Well, do I look the part?”

Price coughed, inhaling too much smoke on accident. Gaz hadn’t moved since you walked in the room. He just stood there, dumbfounded, arms held at an odd angle as if frozen in time. Ghost cleared his throat to save them,

“Yes, Rabbit. You clean up very nicely, don’t you?”

“Well,” you sighed, “this is sort of the raunchiest outfit I found in the box. I was going to go with something a bit more casual, but I thought I’d better be noticeable if we’re going to nail this asshole.”

Gaz finally came out of his locked state, aghast,

“Noticeable? Sweetheart, this is more than noticeable. Goddamn.”

“You think it’s too much? I don’t really know what would get his attention,” you shrugged, looking shy as you confessed, “I don’t get asked out very often.”

“You could go out with me, lassie,” Soap edged his way closer to her, slinking around the table, “We’d have a hell of a time, so we would.”

“Don’t listen to Johnny,” Ghost stood in front of him a bit, snaking an arm around your cinched waist, “He thinks takin’ his birds to the dog races is a good date idea.”

“Well, isn’t it?” Soap protested.

Gaz grabbed your hand tenderly, examining your fingers like they were a precious work of art,

“Maybe you could come with me to Berlin next weekend, babes. There’s a killer music festival going on, and we could have a really good time. How does that sound?”

“Boys,” Price interrupted, “I’m sure she has plenty of work to finish here; can’t just be galavanting off with you muppets. In fact, why don’t you stop by my office after this mission, bunny rabbit, and we can work on your projected shipment dates together? You know, I used to be a logistics man, myself.”

Ghost rolled his eyes at the Captain,

“Please, logistics? You drove a truck back and forth on base delivering food to the canteen twenty years ago. I’ve read your file.”

The men all started talking over each other, forgetting your presence in favor of coming out on top of the dog pile. You smiled to yourself, eager to push more of their buttons. 

Slipping one skinny strap down your shoulder, you spoke through the din,

“You know, this dress can be strapless. Do you think Sokolov wants it up…” you locked eyes with Captain Price, seeing his throat swallow hard as he watched you in the silence you had created, “or down?”

The other soldiers were stunned, unable to look away as you slipped both straps off of your shoulders and tucked them into your dress. One strap was still partially visible, and Ghost slowly moved one gloved finger up your arm, tracing your skin lightly, and finished tucking it in for you. He lingered, caressing the side of your breast as he removed it. 

“You gonna be able to seduce this Russian bastard, Sergeant? Or, do you need some practice?” Price asked with a low, threatening tone. 

The whole room held its breath waiting for your answer. The four men towered over your short frame, casting shadows over you like black spells, hoping you would relinquish your control over them. All of their eyes watched as you slowly, achingly lifted a hand and traced it up Gaz’s canvas pant leg, stopping when you discovered the heavy head of his cock, hardening down toward his knee. With the back of your hand, you pet it like a skittish animal, reveling in its smoothness and warmth. Your eyes found his as they fluttered, blood rushing through his body in a panic,

“I think I could use some practice, Captain.”

You felt Gaz’s rod leap at your answer. He bent down to kiss your mouth, slanting his lips fiercely against you. 

Soap came up behind you, gripping your ass through the silk of your dress roughly,

“We’ll help you, lass. We’ll help you practice, won’t we, boys? Jesus, you smell so good,” he buried his face in your neck and sucked against your skin. 

Ghost found your other hand and held it tightly, using it to steady you from Soap and Gaz’s assault. Price moved Gaz out of the way, earning himself a glare, and peeled the dress off of you in one fell swoop, revealing the expanse of uncovered skin underneath. 

“Holy shite,” the captain breathed, whispering his lament, “Sergeant, where are your knickers?”

“I guess I forgot them, Captain,” you blushed, batting your eyes up at him, doing actual damage to his psyche.  

He didn’t have much time to savor the moment though because Ghost was shoving him out of the way to pick you up by the thighs to lay you on the table. The giant knelt between your legs, pulling you by the knees until your ass was hanging off of the low wooden planks. He lifted his mask just enough for you to see him lick his lips over sharp, white teeth before feasting on your wet folds, letting the cloth of the balaclava hide most of his efforts. 

Ghost created a soothing, yet electrically wet warmth in your core which made you keen loudly, only to be muffled by Price’s smoky kiss. You could taste the burned tobacco on his tongue and your skin was scraped by his thick mustache. 

Gaz’s voice got your attention. He had freed his cock from his pants and started to stroke it, standing by your side and playing with your breasts with his free hand as Price savaged your mouth. He tugged on your nipple and told you,

“You know, Rabbit, you’re going to have to really put yourself out there tomorrow. Show him these gorgeous tits of yours. Make him think you’re hungry for his cock,” Gaz rubbed his head, hard and hungry for you, “Can you do that? Let us see how good you can be, princess. We need you to ace this mission”

You felt Ghost dip his hard cock between your pussy lips, distracting you from Price’s tongue in your mouth. You broke the kiss and looked up at Ghost, dazed, into his masked face,

“I promise, sir. I’ll be good,” you looked around at all four of the men, reaching out to grab Soap’s cock that he was stroking for you, “Will you show me how?”

You didn’t give Soap time to answer. The Scot gasped as you devoured him, sucking him down into your throat, making yourself gag as he fucked your throat in and out in long thrusts. He tangled his fingers in your hair. Ghost matched his rhythm below you, pounding his cock into your wet hole. You thought you could feel something on his dick. Was he pierced? You could see your slick gleam on his lips and chin where his mask was still askew. 

“Yeah,” Ghost smiled haughtily, “you like those piercings, don’tcha baby?”

You didn’t have a chance to respond. Price pulled your head away from Soap’s dick, kissing your mouth lewdly again before giving you an order,

“Open your mouth wide for me, love.”

You obeyed. Then, he spit onto your tongue, warm and bubbling, before shoving your face down onto his own fat rod. It made your lips burn with its cruel girth, even though it felt relatively soft, and you thought fleetingly that there was no way your poor little cunt was going to be able to take him, Ghost was big enough to be filling, but the captain was carrying around a true weapon. 

He pulled your head off of him roughly, watching as the strings of drool connected your tongue to his cockhead, growling in short, lustful breaths. 

“Alright, boys. Make sure she’s good and ready for me. You know the drill,” Price barked, and then he was gone. 

The drill? You looked for him, confused, and only found Gaz, who was now slapping his long dick on your cheek, knocking for entrance. He let you take his head into your mouth, having a much easier time than you did with your captain. You bobbed your head up and down dutifully, not realizing just how long his cock was until he tried to force it into your throat. He held you down for a moment, moaning shamelessly, before releasing you to let you breathe. 

“You alright, babes?” He laughed.

You nodded, moaning. Ghost took himself out of your wetness and pulled you off of the table. Soap hopped up to lay where you were, and you moved to ride him, making sure to get right to the edge with him to let Ghost back in. You’d never taken two men at once, much less four, but there was a first time for anything, and you were a quick learner. 

Spearing yourself onto Soap felt like someone had created a warm, custom, living dildo just for you. He was a perfect fit, and you both cried out in pleasure from the sensation. Ghost slapped your ass, hard, and you screamed, clenching around Soap’s cock. Soap moaned darkly. 

“Keep suckin’ that big cock, baby. Need to teach you how to multitask,” Ghost threatened as he bent to eat your asshole, wiggling his tongue into the tight rim to gain entrance.

He started to fuck you with it, his long wet muscle moving in and out as Soap thrust himself up into you, hitting your g-spot every single time like magic. You took Gaz back into your mouth and tried your best to take him deeper into your throat. Every time you did, you would gag, and your muscles would involuntarily clench, and the whole room would moan. You started to come, feeling yourself flood around Soap, whose mouth had latched onto one of your nipples, suckling like he was trying to feed from you. 

You could see Price out of the corner of your eye. He had lit another cigar and was smoking it, stroking himself, still not at his full capacity. You were scared of him. He looked like some sort of demon, breathing fire, as big around as your forearm. He wasn’t as long as Gaz, nor as delightfully curved as Soap, but he made your legs shake without even touching you. When he did touch you, rising from his chair when he wanted to fondle you, pinching a nipple, pulling your hair, forcing your head down on Gaz, it lit you up like you were kerosene and he was the match. 

Suddenly, Ghost’s tongue was gone, only to be replaced by his heavy head. He was going to fuck your ass, and there was nothing you could say to stop him. You’d only done anal once or twice before, and you knew it might hurt. He went so slowly that you could feel each and every piercing as he popped them into you, one by one. Then, as he pulled back out, you felt them pop as each one went through you again, raking himself in and out gently, as careful with you as he could be. When you were more pliant, he began to throw his weight into each thrust, and Soap started to groan below you from the sensation. 

“Don’t you fuckin’ dare, Johnny boy,” Price threatened, his voice full of stern warning. 

You weren’t sure what he was warning him about until Soap pulled his cock out of you and came all over your stomach, Ghost’s thrusts making the fluid smear between you two, rubbing your bodies together. Ghost pulled out next, and you felt his hot, thick ropes spray onto your ass cheeks, melting down your thighs. 

Gaz abandoned your mouth and took over for Soap, feeding himself inch by inch until he found your end, leaving some of his cock out in the cold. He fucked you faster than the others, not caring to move out of the way as Soap rolled off of the table, whining like a whore the whole time. 

Captain Price came around to your face, holding your chin in his hand, looking down at you without pity,

“Garrick’s got a long cock, don’t he, love? You’re being so good for my men, such a good girl. Sweet little slut, hm? You’re going to do so well on this mission. Those areholes won’t know what hit ‘em.”

He grabbed your hair fiercely, hurting your scalp, forcing you to turn and look back at Gaz. Price took a long puff from his cigar, blowing it past your face, 

“Baby, he could fuck you for a hundred years. He’s not gonna come until you scream his name.”

You heard Gaz moan louder at Price’s suggestion, so you did. You screamed for him over and over, not caring who might have heard you, begging for him to come in you. 

“He’s not allowed to come in you, love,” Price kissed your open panting mouth, “But, don’t worry. It’s about to be my turn, and you’ll be feeling my fuckin’ come drip out of your cunt all night long.”

Price’s voice made your blood run cold with fear. He wasn’t making threats. Those were clearly promises. Predictions of the future. His cock was tucked back into the band of his pants, but it lay in wait there like a serpent, eager to strike.

Your heart pounded in your chest as Gaz pulled his long shaft all the way out of you, his come shooting onto your lips and ass, feeling him use his hand to rub it into your skin, making you sticky. Your captain gave him a warning look, and you realized they had done this sort of thing before. Perhaps many times before. As you watched Soap and Ghost comfort each other, breathing close together, touching themselves, you wondered if they ever fucked each other as well. Picturing the four of them rutting into each other made you hungry, deep in your belly, starving to witness such an act. 

Finally, it was your captain’s turn. The look in his eyes made you tremble. You knew he wouldn’t be cruel, not on purpose anyway. He wasn’t a heartless man, but he wasn’t one to hold himself back from what he wanted either. You knew that he would fuck you the way he wanted to, as hard as he wanted to, no matter how much complaining you might do about how his cock would stretch you out - even to the point of pain. 

“On your back, love. Legs up. Spread that pussy open for me,” he commanded. 

You did as he told you, opening yourself up shamelessly, letting your folds spread wide. 

He walked around the table to gaze upon your form, staring at your pink flesh like it was a hot meal, and he was starving. He moaned, rubbing his hand across your sticky mons, 

“Mm, that’s my pretty little Rabbit. Now…” he paused for effect, sinking three fingers into your hole roughly but ever so slowly, twisting his arm as he did, corkscrewing his knuckles into you, “...I want you to understand that there’s a reason I’m last in line, love.”

You cried out from the pressure of his huge hand. It felt like you were going to tear. Then, after a few hard thrusts, he released you. The emptiness you felt was heartbreaking. You looked for him, pleading with your eyes for him to return to you. He pulled his cock free from his waistband, unable to connect his finger to his thumb as he wrapped around it. You whined involuntarily, something animal in you recognizing its fate. 

“Shh, baby, I know,” he drug out his voice, “I know…”

He positioned the heavy shaft on top of your body, measuring himself from base to tip, reaching your navel. As he slapped it against you, it made a loud thudding noise, slamming into your muscles like a fist. Price was so heavy. You’d never even imagined a man could feel like he was pure, warm, thick marble. Your pussy seemed to understand the panic you were feeling, flooding itself, preparing for the upcoming invasion. 

“I’m so fuckin’ eager for you, love,” he slapped you again, quick taps right to your swollen clit.

Then, he put his head inside of you, squeezing himself in. He left it inside of you and started to pump himself with his hand. Between the vibration from his fist and the fact that it felt like you were sitting on the end of a steel bat, you couldn’t hold back your keening, loud and high-pitched. 

Price began the steady, slow march forward, swelling harder and harder by the moment, making your walls feel like they might break. It seemed as if all the blood in your body was rushing down your belly and up your legs, hurrying to your core. 

Your eye were wild, full of your fear, tears forming at the corners of your eyes,

“I can’t, please! I can’t. It’s too big, fuck…”

Price didn’t stop. He just kept feeding himself in and pulling himself back out, wetting his cock’s skin with your soaking hole. 

“You can, and you will, love,” the captain growled, “Now, shut that pretty mouth and take it.”

Your cheeks were wet and your eyes burned, he was so deep within you that it felt like he was thrusting into your throat. You couldn’t breathe.

Suddenly, Soap grabbed your hand, kissing your palm, using his tongue to lick your skin,

“It’s alright, bonnie. I’m here, lass. Breathe with me, lass.”

He bent down to kiss you, but he didn’t quite connect, letting his lips graze yours featherlight. Soap breathed in and breathed out in steady, measured beats. You felt yourself begin to relax. It had such an immediate effect that you heard Price groan, able to slip himself a bit deeper than he had done. 

It was like a chain reaction, the more relaxed you became, breathing with Soap, feeling him suck and lick your nipples softly, the more Price was able to squeeze himself in. 

Finally, you felt his hair at the base of his cock, thick and curled, and as he sighed, he settled inside of you, impossibly pressing against your whole body, making a clear outline of himself in your lower belly. He rubbed it, almost fondly, and you felt every inch of him throb against your walls, his head bullying your womb.

You cried out again from the strain. Ghost and Gaz joined Soap. Gaz began to suckle from your breast on your left side, fondling himself as he did so, getting hard again. Ghost was at your head on the end of the table, and he bent to kiss you, upside down, his tongue running all the way down your throat, long and slippery against your own. 

He pulled away, petting your cheek as Price began to grind himself into you,

“You alright, Rabbit? You enjoying your captain’s cock, hm?”

“Mm hm,” you whispered, whimpering through your tears.

Ghost smiled, and his straight, white teeth looked menacing as he did, sharp, wolf-like,

“I know you are, babe. You’re doing so well. Look at him. You can see him inside of your cunt.”

He lifted your head by your hair, showing you the grotesque shadow of Price’s heavy rod as it shoved itself into you. You reached your hands down to it, feeling it through your skin. It was so unique. His size wasn’t like anything you’d ever experienced, and your body was sending confused signals of passion, your orgasms coming in shattered, broken waves. Feeling incomplete. Too powerful, and yet drawn out like the last note of a symphony. 

As you touched him from the outside, Price moaned aloud for the first time. It shocked you. You looked up at him, managing to meet his eyes.

“Fuck,” you moaned, “You feel so good inside of me, Captain.”

“Mm, yeah?” He replied, using his hands to press yours down onto his cock, making you gasp, “You like it, baby? I’m gonna make sure you never want anybody else.” 

Price reached down and grabbed you by the throat, scaring away Soap and Gaz. He lifted you up, making his dick fit inside of you that much tighter with the change of angle. Then, he began the true performance. He thrust himself in with fast, punishing strokes, slamming himself into you. You were sure you would bruise, and you felt dizzy, almost like you’d pass out. 

Soap was at your side again, holding your hair away from your face,

“Look at you, lassie. Such a good girl for your captain. Takin’ that cock so damn well. Can’t wait to be back inside you, girl.”

He kissed your cheek, palm massaging his dick which was back to full mast, eager again. 

“Alright, Johnny,” Price grinned, “Since you asked so nicely.”

Without any strain whatsoever, Price lifted you up by your hips and held you in the air as he fucked you, bringing you around the table so that Soap could position himself at your asshole. Ghost’s earlier efforts had made it ready for him, and you could very acutely feel how much he was throbbing to be inside of you, pulsing as he fit against Price. 

“Ungh, fuck, lass,” Soap groaned as he began to thrust into you, pistoning with the captain, “He’s got you so tight for me.”

“Yeah? It feels so good. Mmm…” you whimpered, feeling more full than you’d ever been. 

Johnny was holding your breasts as Price lifted you up, brutalizing your pussy. Every thrust felt like an electric pulse, making you cock-drunk and mindlessly pliant. 

They worked in tandem for what felt like eons, pistoning in and out with each other. Eventually, after he had felt you come, Soap addressed his captain directly,

“Sir, I’m…please, sir, can I?”

“Can you what, soldier?” Price grunted through gritted teeth, testing his sergeant.

“Can I come, sir? Please, Cap…”

“Yeah, Johnny. C’mon, mate. Let her feel it.”

“F-fuck! Fuck…” Soap groaned, pushing himself flush against your asshole, pumping his come into you. 

He caught his breath while he was still in you, kissing the nape of your neck, and then he pulled away slowly. He helped Gaz replace him, holding your ass wide apart so his comrade could position himself inside. And just when you thought your poor pussy would have room to breathe, Gaz’s incredibly long shaft was piercing your hole again. 

You felt him sigh, his breath against your neck. He took over holding you up, and Price praised him,

“That’s it, Garrick. She’s all yours. Take it.”

Gaz reacted to his words in a way that made you rethink their entire dynamic. Then, you remembered how he had come when you said his name. He seemed to get harder and harder the more Price praised him, and you wanted to give him that same validation. 

“Gaz,” you whispered, leaning your head back to rest on his shoulder, “It’s so big, baby. It’s like I can feel you in my throat. Oh, Gaz. Gaz!”

“Mm,” Price put his mouth to your neck, groaning, “That’s it, love. Tell him how much you like that long cock.”

“So much, Gaz. It’s so good,” you added. 

Then, Price took his left hand and wrapped it around the back of Gaz’s neck in a moment of surprising intimacy. As Price kissed the front of your throat, Gaz kissed your shoulder and nape. You felt like a peeled fruit being shared between them, a ripped rind, your juicy flesh being split in two; two halves of a ripe orange. 

Gaz lasted longer than Soap had when he fucked your ass, but Price’s attention seemed to spur him on. His movements were slippery, and you could feel the remnants of Soap’s come frothing around your entrance, easing his efforts.

“Captain,” Gaz whined, desperate for more of that approval. 

“C’mon, Kyle. She’s ready for you. Good lad.”

The use of his first name made Gaz thrust up into you with a feverish pace. He cried out as he came, hard, into you. Feeling him fall back out of you made you imagine the tendrils of a giant kraken, seeming to travel forever just to remove himself from your body, slithering out of you with a terrible squelching noise. 

Gaz let Price hold you again, and you turned, expecting Ghost. Price laughed at you, chuckling softly,

“Missing your masked man already?”

You looked at Price, feeling raw and used, waiting for an explanation,

“He’s a little…preoccupied.”

Price laid you back on the table, letting you turn your head to see Ghost, buried in Soap’s asshole up to the hilt, furiously jacking him off, slamming into him a little too roughly for your liking. It was violent, but Soap seemed to be enjoying himself beyond measure. 

Your pussy, though, disagreed with your assessment, clenching around Price’s cock while you watched Simon abuse his friend’s hole. 

“Mm,” the captain moaned, feeling your muscles react, “You like that, love? You wanna be fucked rough like that?”

He didn’t give you a chance to answer. Price wrapped your legs beneath his chest in a full mating press and wrecked you, pounding into your body like a giant fist. You felt your bones shudder beneath his behemoth form. Just when you thought you might puke from how overstimulated you were, you felt him pause. Then, your pussy felt like it was leaking, and it was. Price’s come just kept milking its way out of you, his cock pulsing inside, making your walls throb. 

When he finished, he kissed you on the mouth, almost lovingly, reverently. He started to slide out of you, being extremely careful, and you’d never felt so empty in your entire life. It was as if you’d never be full again. You found yourself whining, whimpering for Price to return. 

“That’s right, pretty girl,” Price smiled, “Never gonna want anybody else, are ya?”

You smiled, shocked and in considerable discomfort. Gaz scooped you up off of the table, cradling you, sitting down with you in his lap in a large chair. He reached down for some water and handed it to you, helping you recover. 

Price was standing with his hands on his hips, panting from his exertion. Ghost and Soap were connected like two hounds, locked together, the Scot cock warming his tall lover, groaning on every exhale. 

“Well, what do you think, lads? Do we have a winner?” Price asked.

“Yeah, we fucking do, Cap,” Gaz pet your head, moving your sweaty hair out of your eyes. 

“Fuck yeah, mate,” Ghost growled, pawing at Johnny again, rabid for him. 

“Hear that, bonnie?” Soap managed to ask, still moaning in little breaths as he was being speared by Ghost, “Got  yourself a new permanent assignment.”

Price walked over to you, grabbing you by the face and kissing you once more,

“You belong to us now, love. Perfect little slut.”

AO3 Link

[alexander-arcturus-black-lupin]

Holding Hands

Spencer Reid despised hand shakes, they were not only just most men’s way to show strength and power but the amount of germs that was transmitted during handshakes made him shiver. When you had offered him your hand his first reaction was to spit out the fact. 

“The number of pathogens passed during a handshake is staggering. It's actually safer to kiss.” 

He saw how you smiled, how you tilted your head and how your hair fell. Derek teased him after but he just semi ignored him. It didn’t help when you laughed somewhere behind and he almost snapped his neck to look at you. 

But oh was it worth it.

Your head, thrown back, eyes closed, and your hair shaking slightly.

Your smile. His new favourite thing.

“Maybe I’ll take you up on that.” 

He treasured the memory.

He had offered to drive you towards your apartment with you, it had been a really gruesome case this time and the killer was someone you knew, they’d been targeting people around you. You had been held at gunpoint and got scraped by a bullet. He glanced at you from time to time. You both had a responsibility to keep each other safe, you all did but his felt deeper with you.  

He felt useless when he saw you bleeding. He shot the unsub yes, arrested him yes, but he still felt responsible. In the corner of his eye he noticed how your hand was shaking in a fist. Gently he held out his hand and grinned at your confused face.

“Use me, I-I like a stress-” he shut himself up as you intertwined your fingers with his and smiled. Spencer saw sparks. Felt it. Creeping up from his fingers, racing up his arm and tickling his heart.

“Thank you Spencer.” 

He didn’t know how to describe the moment with any word other than warm. It was familiar and soft and he loved every minute of it. Even as he drove he kept your hand in his the entire ride. You had fallen asleep and he just waited on the street by your house, smiling like a fool with his eyes on your interlocked hands. 

When you shuffled out of his car, hiding your smile disappearing into your house, with a softly whispered 'goodnight' he made no motion to leave, he sat there grinning like a teenager after their first kiss. His hand, still tingling.

______________________________________________________________

no. 2 of Spencer Reid's firsts

[reiderwriter]

♡ Girls Just Wanna Have Fun ♡

Week 5 of my Playlist Series ♡

Summary: Spencer isn't used to clubs, but when duty calls, he's made to feel a little bit more welcome by a girl who seems to know him better than a stranger should.

Warnings: Smut 18+ Minors DNI!! Hotchner!Reader (Reader is Hotch's sister), semi-public sex (x2 oops), oral sex (m receiving), fingering, dry humping, hand job, cum play, dirty talk, degradation and name calling (slut only), use of daddy/sir even though this is like solidly season 1 Spencer lmao, corruption kink, loss of virginity (surprisingly the readers)

A/N: Every single intrusive thought I've ever had about s1 Reid tied up in a nice little bow masquerading as a song fic. It is finished, and now I feel flushed. Please expect only fluff from me until my next intrusive thought (maybe half an hour, probably no longer).

Masterlist || Spotify Playlist

Flashing lights and the scent of dried up alcohol stains weren't usually signs of Spencer Reid's presence. He'd managed to get through college - two degrees and three PhDs - without stepping foot into a nightclub. But now that he'd joined the BAU, it seemed to be an unavoidable occurrence. 

“The unsub hunts at this nightclub, I get that, I do. But why am I the one going in? He's targeting women,” he panicked as his older team member helped adjust his clothes to conceal the weapon he carried. 

“Because, pretty boy, it's student night, and you're the only one here who can pass for a 21 year old. I guess late puberty has some benefits.” Derek smacked his arm playfully, leaving the younger man wincing slightly. 

“But I'm not a woman.” 

“Yes, but you'll be able to walk around and note any suspicious behaviour, and then we can tail suspects you flag,” Hotch explained to him again. 

“Just act natural, kid, it's not like it's your first time in a club.” 

“It is.” His warnings fell on deaf ears though, as they pushed him out of the van and into the crowd of students queueing to enter. 

It didn't take you long to notice him after you arrived at the club.

The sweater vest was enough to make him stand apart slightly, as much as he was trying his best to blend in. A slight tingle of familiarity raced up your spine as his eyes awkwardly met yours, his scan of the room stopping short as he flushed and turned his eyes down. 

Pushing slightly to the crowd, you leaned over the counter next to him and tried to get the bartenders attention. It was loud and busy, but catching attention and keeping it was a skill you'd mastered early, a skill that you were thankful for as you realised the man's eyes were guiltily flicking between your ass and the crowd once again. 

“Are you going to stare, or are you going to introduce yourself,” you giggled, sliding closer to his perch at the bar, as he panicked, standing straighter. 

“I wasn't, um… your dress, there's a rip at the edge of your skirt, I was trying to figure out if it was part of the design because I know some clothes these days have damage built into the design, or if it was in need of some emergency… sewing.” His hands gesticulating awkwardly throughout his explanation, as if anxious to show you the jumble in his brain was entirely pure and innocent, even as the flush on his face said otherwise. 

“And your name is?” 

“I-.... Spencer. My name is Spencer.” 

You stood a little straighter hearing the name, that familiarity warming you more. Spencer. Spencer. Spencer. You turned the name over in your head but took another step closer as the crowd shifted in a wave, feeling the heat coming off his body. 

“Well, Spencer,” your tongue made the decision to act for your brain, the words coming out before you could stop them. “What conclusion did you draw? Do you think the rip was intentional or not?” 

Gently, you grabbed his hand and led it to the fabric. The skirt wasn't scandalously short, but short enough to suit the dark heated atmosphere of the club at least, but as his fingers grazed the back of your thighs, still hesitant in his actions, you found yourself wishing it were just that bit higher, so his hands would have to reach further up. 

With a gaze over your shoulder at the crowd, Spencer found himself at an impass. He'd already noted a few people of interest, loiterers, men getting a bit rough and aggressive in the club, people on the outskirts (like him, he supposed) that could possibly be their unsub. 

He'd been given the all clear to disengage and leave the club as effortlessly as he could  bit something in your initial gaze had pinned him to place at the bar, and refused still to let him see reason. 

“I think it's a design feature. To draw attention to…” he swallowed hard, but you weren't sure if he was just being delicate about his words or if he was reacting to the hand that was now on him, dragging nails up from his abdomen to his chest. 

“Good observation, Spencer.” 

“Your name. You didn't tell me what your name was.” He said, grabbing your hand to stop its progress and breathing deeply as if to clear his head. 

“Y/N. We should dance.” Without giving him time to react, you abandoned your drink on the counter and pulled his arm around your waist, dragging him out to the crush of people in the middle of the dance floor. 

His protests were lost in the pulse of the music, as you kept your back to him and began grinding and swaying against him. His hands tightened on your hips as he gently started moving with you, and you threw your head back to catch his eye again. 

Spencer didn't know what he'd gotten himself into. He knew that very little actually dancing actually went on at a club, that this was just a more polite socially acceptable form of foreplay, but he didn't know that it would have such an effect on him. 

A mess of sweaty, intoxicated people spilling drinks and other fluids, and he thought he'd stay there forever if it kept your hips torturing his cock like that. 

When you glanced up at him, he was a man lost to his senses, lust clouding his eyes, mouth slightly open in a pant, you reached up to his neck and pulled his lips down to meet yours. 

You were surprised when it was his to guess to reach out first, his hand that trailed under your shirt without tours guiding it. You'd picked up a fairly innocent man at the bar and turned him into a pervert in the space of one dance. It felt like the club was watching you, how his hands grazed the skin under your breasts and caused the shiver up your spine, how your back arched to press deeper against his election. 

You may have tempted him into taking this risk, but he was the one gleefully nosediving into his fall from grace. 

“Spencer,” you whispered as he came up for air, lips resting at your ear. “I think we should get some fresh air.” 

Something in that seemed logical. It was colder outside. Maybe it would cool off whatever had lit him up like a pyre on the dance floor. Maybe the fresh air would clear his head. Or maybe just the open space would help him detangle his hands from you, would lead his thoughts away from burying himself deep in you. 

He would gladly take you outside, bid you farewell, and return to his job and his life. It was a solid exit for his first cover - who was going to question the young lovers leaving together. 

You had a feeling that the idea of outside would have Spencer pulling away from you, but you hadn't had your fill of fun just yet. 

So just as you led him onto the dancefloor, you kept a hand over his, around your waist, and you guided him out of the club, down the street a few paces, and into a darkened alleyway. 

“Y/N, we shouldn't be-” he tried to stutter out as you pulled him in for another kiss. His brain was trying to protest, but his hands were already back on your ass, pulling you up and closer to him. 

“What was that?” You said between kisses, his mouth launching an assault against each inch of your skin. 

He gasped for breath and pulled back, realising that he'd lifted and pinned you to the cold brick wall of the alley in his haste to feel you pressed against him. 

“Y/N… I don't want to take advantage of you, I'm not-” 

“I'm taking advantage of you, Spencer,” you said, nipping at his neck slowly raking your hands into his shoulders. “Am I allowed to do that? Can I take all of you, Spencer?” 

His eyes rolled back in his head as he let put a groan of pleasure, your lips sucking at the tender flesh of his nape. 

“I-I'm not a student, and-” 

“I know, but you are such a pretty boy that I decided I wanted to have some fun with you.” 

His resolve broke in half as you uttered your compliments, and his lips met yours in a moan as his hands pushed your skirt up around your waist. 

His finger trailed between your hips and his, using the wall to balance you as he pushed aside your panties and began slowly stroking your sex. 

Your hips pitched forward to press more of his slender fingers against you,  desperate to feel him stretch your cunt open first with one, then two, then however many he decided was good enough for you. 

Leaving one hand on his shoulder, you let one trail down his pants, stepping one foot down to allow you access to his zipper. 

He pauses Again for a second as you manage to get his pants open, your hand pulling his cock free from the constraint of his clothing. Spitting on your hand, you wrap around it firmly and slowly pump up and down, looking him directly in the eye as you watch the pleasure pour over him. 

His forehead rests against yours as he melts into your touch, so desperate, needing to cum so badly that he's willing to let it happen in this dark dirty alley. 

“Spencer, I want to have a lot of fun with you. Will you let me?” 

“Yes, fuck Y/N.” He nods, his hips rocking into your hand with each slow stroke you give him. 

“Spencer,” you say, rocking your hips forward and pushing your panties further to the side once again. “Spencer, please fuck me. Take my virginity, Spencer, please.” 

His mind whirled at the sentence, the pleas dropping from your lips. Virginity. You were a virgin. 

You'd had him cock stiff after three minutes of conversation  had pulled him into an alleyway and lost him in a fog of pleasure, and you were still innocent. Untouched. 

You wanted to have your fun with him. You'd chosen him. 

He couldn't articulate the lust that coated his tongue, so he simply pushed it into your mouth  grabbed his cock from your hands, lined himself up with your drippy cunt and pushed in with a single thrust. 

You gasped and let out a moan, not quite fully pleasurable. Your hands again found his shouldend, his back, but your nails were sharper this time, digging in further, almost piercing skin. 

“Fuck, Spencer, yes,” you said, breathing shakily as you slowly started moving around his cock. 

“Did it hurt?” 

“It doesn't hurt anymore. Now, please Spencer, fuck me and don't hold back. It's more fun that way.” 

He pulled your hips closer, moaning as you tightened around him. Pressing one hand against the wall and keeping another hand gripped so hard around your hip you knew it'd bruise, he began moving. 

He began slow, trying not to lose himself in the feel of your unused, tight hole. But with each small moan, each scratch against his back, he lost a little bit more of that control he was begging for. 

With his hands engaged, his brows furrowed I'm frustration that he couldn't stroke your bundle of nerves, he couldn't force you to cum on his cock as quickly as he wanted to. 

“Y/N, look at me.” You opened your eyes at the words, unaware that they'd closed tight as you emptied all other senses to just feel him. 

“Touch yourself. Right there, that's it,” he watched your fingers rub delicately against your skin, spoke little words of encouragement, and told you to increase your speed and pleasure. 

“That's it. That's it, now it's time for you to cum, Y/N. Cum on my cock, rub your little clit for me and cum around my big cock, Y/N.” 

“Shit… shit, shit, shit, Spencer, oh my god.” Your hands shook, and your hips twitched, and with a cry, you reached that high you'd been craving since you met his eyes earlier. 

He pulled out of you, slowly pulling you off the wall, as he held you up, letting your legs regain their strength. His cock was still hard, still coated in your arousal as he took care of you. 

You caught your breath fast, regained tour strength quicker as you noticed he didn't plan on getting himself off anymore. He let you have your fun with him and was happy to end it all there. 

You weren't. 

“Spencer,” you sang again, wrapping a hand once again around his erection as he tried to straighten out your now slightly more ripped skirt. “Spencer, it's more fun of we both cum. I want you to make a mess of my hand, can you do that for me?” 

You stroked his cock with a firmer grip than before, your arousal lubricating each stroke, his pre-cum mingling with it to aid you further. You suddenly wondered what he would taste like, but knew your legs would be too weak to do everything your heart desired today. 

There was always tomorrow. 

He leaned his weight back on the wall behind you, forcing you back as well as you pumped him quickly so desperate to hear him moan your name as he spilt his seed. 

“Y/N,” he moaned, and you were triumphant. His hips jerked once, then twice, then a third time, and he stilled, heaving breaths as he buried his head in your shoulder. 

He swallowed and regained his breath, and as he pulled away, you pulled your fingers to your lips and lapped up the final drops of cum that he left there. 

Most of it had his the wall, dripped to the floor, but you enjoyed these few drops and smiled brightly at him, pulling a handkerchief that you knew would be in his pocket out and cleaning the two of you up. 

He flushed again as he came back to his senses, especially as you attempted to put his clothed to rights, stepping back to replace his softening cock in his pants.

“Well,” you said after setting yourself to rights, “Thank you for the fun night, Spencer. See you tomorrow.” 

You skipped off quickly before he had a second to even process your words. 

The next day at the local precinct was a blur for Spencer as he tried to drag himself from the drug induced haze of meeting you. He'd stroked himself to completion two more times in bed after he returned to his motel room, reliving the sound of you begging him to take you, the words ‘pretty boy’ on your lips as you spread your legs. 

It'd taken his entire brain, or what was left of it, to not jump out of his skin every time Morgan had teased him with the words that morning.

“Now how did you like your first club experience, pretty boy? Did any college cuties throw themselves at you?” 

He spat up his coffee, choosing that moment to choke, and begging god for this to just be the end of Spencer Reid entirely. 

Because there was no way Morgan would actually believe that that was exactly what had happened. 

“Morgan, Gideon wants you in the interrogation room, and- wow, Spencer, you should change your shirt. What are you, 5? You can't drink coffee properly?” Elle said, chuckling slightly.

“I choked,” he frowned, but it fell on deaf ears as his teammates walked away quickly to get back to their jobs. 

He wished he could recover so quickly, even now the image of you having your fun with him the night before playing like a movie in his head. 

Looking down, he realised Elle was right, and he really did need to change his shirt. Hotch always had a few spare on hand, even for cases out of the office. He grabbed some tissues, dabbing against the mess of coffee on his shirt, suddenly thankful for lukewarm police precinct coffee, and started making his way towards Hotch. 

“Hey, Hotch-” he made it three steps before your voice cried out. 

“Ronnie!!” You shouted, throwing your hands around your elder brother as he caught you in a hug. 

“Y/N, we're at a police station. If you're going to come see me, you have to at least call me Aaron.” 

“And not take the chance to embarrass you in front of your peers and coworkers? Not a chance, Ronnie. Not a chance.” He chuckled fondly, brushing away his complaints quickly as he turned to introduce you to JJ first, then Elle and then the frozen statue that had replaced Spencer. 

“And, Y/N, this is Dr. Spencer Reid. Spencer, this is my sister, Y/N. She's a student at the university.” 

You held out your hand with a triumphant grin as Spencer stared in wide-eyed horror at the apparition in front of him. 

“Hello, Spencer. It's very nice to finally meet you. My brother has told me a lot about you, and I'm very excited to pick your brains.” 

The air seemed to explode around Spencer as each breath became deliriously hot, filling his lungs with fire. It was moments before he realised that he wasn't actually breathing at all, and the air was actually quite normal. 

Your hand remained out, ready to greet him, and to the surprise of his coworkers, he took it in his for a short shake. 

“Y/N. Hotch's sister, Y/N. Nice to meet you, Y/N Hotchner, Hotch's sister.” 

He could practically hear the audible sound of Elle and JJ smacking a hand against their faces in horror at his stupidly obvious reaction to the woman in front of him. If he wasn't careful, he'd be spouting confessions of desire soon, and knowing that Aaron Hotchner carried two guns on his person even now did nothing to calm his thoughts. 

“Okay, well, Y/N, I'm busy with some interrogations now, but I can drive you back to your apartment in half an hour if you're okay to wait with JJ?” 

“Are you busy, Spencer?” You asked instead, keeping her eyes locked on the man who still weakly shook her hand, unaware of when the right time to stop would be. 

“I was serious when I said I wanted to pick your brain, my brother said you had a PhD in Engineering and I'm struggling through a class right now that I need some guidance in if you can spare five minutes?” 

Spencer stared between Hotch and you, looking for the right answer to please present itself before he imploded right there. 

“Yes. PhD, I have a PhD. Three actually, but whose counting? Me. I just counted them. One of them is in mathematics, actually, so I guess I'm always counting.” He finally dropped your hand, and you gave him a wider smile that dropped his heart to his stomach. “I am free, unless you needed me for something else, Hotch?” 

His gaze was pleading, though he wasn't sure if he was begging for his life, five more minutes alone with you or the power to extricate himself from this situation entirely, but Hotch nodded his acceptance quickly and let you lead Spencer off to the small, empty visitors room at the opposite side of the precinct. 

You shut the door behind you when you walked in, leaning over to close the blinds as well before you turned back to Spencer. 

“Your shirt is wet. You should probably take it off,” you giggled as you trailed a hand up his arm once again. 

His hand grabbed yours before you could do any more damage to his tender nerves than you'd already managed that morning. 

“You knew the entire time? Who I was?” 

“I walked over because you seemed familiar, but I only figured it out when you said your name. My brother does talk about you a lot.”

“Hotch is going to kill me,” he said, slumping down into the chair behind him. “Y/N, your brother was outside the club. He could've seen us leave.” 

You climbed into his lap, and his eyes finally met yours again, his tongue stopping its hopeless tirade as you relaxed into his chest. 

“I have two older brothers, Spencer. Do you know how often they've been able to tell me what to do?” Your hands started down his shirt, making quick work of the buttons as he stared up, enthralled. 

“Not once have they been able to stop me from doing something I wanted.” 

He scoffed quickly, unable to help himself. Your hands gripped either side of his face and lifted his head to meet your gaze again. 

“And right now, Spencer, I really want you.” A roll of your hips was enough to have him hissing and grabbing your hips. You started steadily rocking into him, eyes still locked with his. 

“Y/N, please let's be sensible.” 

“I don't want to be sensible, I want to have fun. I want to suck your dick right here, and let you cum in my mouth. I want to scream your name and let everyone know who is giving me pleasure. Can't I do that, Spencer?” 

“No,” he groaned, his eyes screwed shut as you dry humped him, trying to get yourself off on his lap, his.cock rising with each of your quiet moans. 

“Spencer, please. I want your big, hard cock back inside me. Please, please, please. I'll be a good girl, I promise.” 

His eyes shot open in incredulity as he watched you use his body as you saw fit. 

“Good girls don't lose their virginities in alleyways, Y/N. Good girls don't throw themselves at their brothers' coworkers. Good girls listen when they're told no, and don't try to suck cock in public, like little sluts.” He spat each word at you, bit you enjoyed each insult he hurled your way, enjoyed the way his body recoiled as he finally called you a slut. 

He seemed slightly shocked by his anger himself, but you didn't seem to care. It took you only seconds after to push your lips against his again and have your hands on his cock once again, pulling him out of his pants as his hands explored you just as eagerly. 

“Yeah, Spencer, your little slut. I'm such a little slut for you, please fuck me.” 

He buried a hand in your hair, tipping your head back so his tongue could probe deeper, his other hand already under your shirt and teasing one nipple. You lifted your hips and sunk down onto his cock, neither of you stopping to think again about your actions as you began to rode him. 

“30 minutes, Y/N, by now we have 24 minutes and 17 seconds. Can you manage that, Y/N?” 

“Yes, sir.” You said, feeling his dick twitch as you rode him. “Oh did you like that? You liked me calling you, sir?” His hips pressed up again, his body answering more honestly than his tongue. 

“What else can I call you? Spencer… sir….daddy?” 

He broke away from his place buried in your neck to push the two of you down to the floor, the new angle had you gasping as a hand covered your mouth stifling any screams you could make before you made them. 

“Be quiet and cum on my cock, Y/N,” he whispered and picked up his pace, one hand gagging you while the other pulled painfully at your nipple, pinching it between two hands and using it to lift your entire chest so your body was arched toward him, letting him go deeper. 

“Yes, Daddy,” you whispered again, against his fingers, tempted to wrap your lips around one and suck it into your mouth. 

“Fuck, just call me Spencer, Y/N.” 

But you couldn't respond, suddenly overcome with the numbness of you orgasm washing over you as you bit back a choked cry. 

“That's it, good job, Y/N. You listen so well, good job.” He rubbed soothing circles into your chest as his hips slowed, working you through your orgasm as he withdrew once again. 

This time though, he didn't try to pull away and leave himself hard, but sat himself up, and lifted you once again too, putting slight pressure at the back of your head until you were on your knees and letting your head fall down, down, down as your lips wrapped around his wet cock. 

You took him in your mouth, and tasted the bitter, salty flavor of your illicit activities, lapping every last bit of your joint pleasure up as he pushed your hair up and down his cock. 

It didn't take long for his hips to press up into your mouth slightly harder than before, his hands holding you steady as he came down your throat. He held your head there for a minute two, as you tried your best to breathe and stay there, taking as much of his cum down your throat as you could. He pulled your head off him and you swallowed the rest, smiling brightly at him as you did so. 

“Thank you for the fun, Spencer,” You said again, grabbing your phone and checking the time. 

Standing up, you pulled your clothes back in place, pulling your skirt down and your panties up, smoothing out the tangles in your hair. 

“Let me go get you that spare shirt, Doctor Reid,” you said, opening the door. “I'm very grateful for your help with my class load, sir.” 

His head fell back into his hands as you closed the door, leaving him to wonder just what the hell he'd got himself in for. 

[dragondensystem]

Relating songs to people <333

[thegnomelord]

Hii, here for the prompt game of yours!

What about prompt 1. Where the reader is the one suggesting it to Ghost? Like, big ass guy sitting on your lap I think it'll be interesting. If you haven't gotten any ideas maybe there aren't enough seats in a vehicle and he's forced to just sit? But if you've already got a few ideas for this please use yours instead! I love your writing and how your brain works.

You've been doing great! Thank you for your hard work! Fighting man

Anon you and I share the same brain waves lol I legit made that prompt with Ghost in mind :Dd Play the game HERE

Prompt: "Do you-" "If you suggest I sit in your lap I'll kill you."

CW:NSFW, Sub Top M!Reader, Dom Bottom Ghost, semi-public sex, bathroom sex, quickies.

Simon's going to kill him. Stab him, shoot him, feed him to the dogs. And Johnny just looks at him like an innocent puppy with a smug look in his eyes. Of course Soap would suggest going to Vegas and of course he'd rent a car that's too small to fit them all, and of course Simon's the last one to get in...

"Come on LT, hop in already." The Scotsman grins, settling next to you in the back. Gaz is riding shotgun and Price's behind the wheel since he doesn't trust any of you to drive. "Wouldn't want to miss out on loosing all yer money."

Simon's contemplating strapping Soap on the roof or sticking him in the car's boot when you pat your thighs. "Do you-"

"If you suggest I sit in your lap I'll kill you." He cuts you off, glaring at you. He knows he's dead on the target when you give a sheepish grin, honestly he doesn't understand why you'd want him of all people to sit on your lap when he's at least a hundred pounds heavier than you.

"Oh come on Ghost," But you just give a charming grin, confident like a chihuahua against a wolf. "I promise I'll keep my hands to myself." You raise your arms up in surrender, giving him your best puppy eyes.

"Fine," Ghost relents. The shuffle into the car is awkward and he bumps his head on the roof a couple of times, knees knocking into yours before he finally sits down. He's not even surprised when your arms wrap around his waist and you pull him down on your lap further, your hands unable to meet on his front from how big he is.

"That's a comfortable seat, yeah?" Gaz snorts as you nuzzle your nose into his broad back, he's so big you can't even look over his shoulder, his weight pressing down fully on you.

"Aye, look happy like a hog in shite." Johnny snickers, trying and failing to duck from Ghost's hand, ending up getting knocked upside the head. "Ow- that hurt!"

"There's nothing inside there to hurt." Ghost snarks, feeling your chest shake as you muffle your snickers into his back.

"Settle down boys." Price grumbles as Gaz laughs next to him, Price's eyes meeting both Simon's and Johnny's. They mutter out low 'yes sir's before he humphs, turning the car on. The engine rumbles to life like a dying geriatric.

"Christ MacTavish where did you find this piece of shite?" Ghost asks incredulously, and Johnny answers something in Gaelic. He looses track of time when he starts bickering with Johnny until Price turns on the radio, resulting in Gaz and Soap belting out songs at the top of their lungs. He feels your hands squeeze around him, reminding him that he's currently sat on your lap; strange how he could forget that.

The drive to Vegas is hell, the road's bumpy like a teenager's pimply face and Simon bumps his head on the car's ceiling every time Price drives over a pothole. It wouldn't be as bad if he didn't feel. . .you. . . brush against his arse every time it happened.

He was lucky he was wearing his mask so no one would notice how hot he became, hands clenching into fists each time your cock poked him, his throat becoming dry. He could feel you stiffen, suffering under the same problem he was, heat slowly burning in your veins.

And of course Price had to pick the bumpiest road he could, not a second would go without the car rocking and making you grind against him, the bloody bastard probably did it on purpose. At least none of them mentioned how you and Ghost had become silent, you literally biting down on his jacket to keep silent.

Finally after a few hours of hell on wheels Price stop at a gas station that looks like it hasn't seen human life since the 80's. Simon doesn't even wait for the car to shut off before he's jumping out of it, "With me," he growls with a hand firmly grasping the front of your clothes.

You don't resist him as he pulls you into an equally sleazy bathroom, the type of which you'd find in a brothel. "Simon, what-" You suck in a breath as he all but throws you down on the toilet lid, locking the stall behind him.

"Shut'it." Simon growls, pulling his face mask down to kiss you roughly, blindly opening your pants to fish out your cock. You're both hard as rocks, Simon separates from the kiss to push his fingers against your lips. "Open."

Simon groans as you take his fingers into your mouth, swirling your tongue around his fingers. If you had more time Simon would have had you eat him out, but fingers will have to do for now, especially with how you look when he catches your tongue between his fingers.

"So eager." Ghost hums, undoing his belt and dropping his pants and underwear, bracing a hand on your shoulder as he leans down and roughly pushes two fingers inside him. He groans and kisses you again, quickly stretching himself just enough so he doesn't tear anything.

"Just for you." You mutter against his lips, sucking in a breath when Simon pulls his fingers out, spits on his hand and lubes your cock.

"You better be." He grins, swiftly turning around so his back is facing you. Holding your cock in one hand he moves so your tip is poking his hole, slowly sinking down. Your hands fly to his hips, gripping firmly but not trying to slow him down. "Yeah, that's a good lad." He groans, relishing the burn and stretch, the sizzle of pain muddling with pleasure, electricity running up his spine.

God, he's so big compared to you it does your head in, your hips bucking up to meet his, chasing the tight heat enveloping your cock. "Fuck, Si," You groan, biting the back of his jacket to silence your moans as Simon starts riding you. He's unable to get a good leverage with the awkward position so you two end up rutting like animals, your hand coming around to stroke his cock, feeling his walls tighten around you.

You two cum in record time, a low moan leaving his lips as he shoots cum across the stall door. His hole flutters and clenches around you, muttering 'come on, give it to me' over and over again until you're cumming inside him, his walls milking you for all you have.

You feel him slump against you, tight heat still trying to pull more cum from you. You both are breathing heavy, bliss coursing through your veins as you tilt your head to kiss the nape of his neck lazily.

"Oi, quit snogging else we're leaving yer here!" Johnny's voice rings from the other side of the stall door.

Oh, you are going to kill him.

[internetskiff]

The most powerful ability exclusive to humanity in the Half Life/Portal shared universe is our ability to just throw bullshit at the wall and see what sticks. Aperture "OSHA are the devil" Science have managed to create completely safe interconnected points in space. The same company that turns people's blood into gasoline and shoves lions and humans into the same enclosed space for the vague concept of "Science". Meanwhile Black Mesa still has to use Xen as a crossing and their teleportation device requires an entire reactor with a village's worth of staff constantly maintaining it, just to end up having most of said staff abducted by onion-headed aliens. Even the resistance hasn't managed to create completely stable teleporters with a compressed Xen relay, meanwhile Aperture just went "oh dude let's shove a black hole into a non-waterproof gun" and have just created a teleportation method that just removes Xen from the equation entirely. Doesn't change the fact they bullshat so bad they basically got themselves gassed to death, but still.

The Resistance are a good example of this too. The Combine seem to have a complete set-in-stone thought process and understanding of science which meant they didn't even begin to explore local teleportation via Xen, meanwhile a group of random human mechanics and scientists have managed to cobble together at least two semi-functional local teleporters out of scrap metal and stolen Combine tech, to the point the All-Consuming Interdimensional Empire had to straight up copy their homework. And that isn't even the only time they seem to be taking human shit to just copy the blueprints.

They 100% just yoinked the entire damn car out of that garage just to take a crack at reverse-engineering the Tau Cannon attached to it. Even Resistance weaponry somehow manages to rival or at least stand equal to Combine tech - and we're talking improvised crossbows that shoot superheated rods of rebar at the target compared to high-tech rifles that can discharge orbs of pure dark energy. The collapse of the entire Citadel is basically set into motion as a result of a cobbled together Rebel device placed into extremely capable hands.

The events of the Portal games are a case of extremely elaborate machinelike planning versus pure human improvisation, with Chell's entire escape in the first game involving her simply weaseling her way through small cracks that GLaDOS missed while setting up her ambushes, eventually turning her own rocket turret against her to destroy her.

I suppose you could argue this falls flat in Portal 2 with Wheatley, but it's important to remember he's designed to be an utter idiot, so it's safe to say he wouldn't obsess over the larger picture like GLaDOS to the point where he fails to see the cracks. Yes, he's the one that breaks Chell out of the test chambers again, and yes, he's the one that came up with the sabotage plot - but it's important to note while he knows what to target in the sabotage, when we actually get there he doesn't quite know how to sabotage it, leaving Chell to figure it out on her own. She botches the Turret Quality Control Line with some minor guidance, but it's basically completely up to her to figure out how to cut off the Neurotoxin Supply. It's through her improvisation that Wheatley even manages to get into GLaDOS' chamber, tumbling through her neurotoxin vent and shattering the glass cage she trapped Chell inside of. It's through Chell's improvisation that the Core Transfer even occurs in the first place.

The script is flipped specifically when Wheatley takes charge, because oops - turns out a mind capable of focusing on the bigger picture might be pretty important when it comes to running an entire facility powered by it's own Reactor. Wheatley just completely zeroes in on his own personal pleasure, hacking up test chambers and the objects within them to try and figure out the easiest way to get his solution euphoria as quick as possible.

Still, something that's pretty interesting is that only Wheatley has ever managed to create a trap that's impossible to foresee and avoid, something GLaDOS has repeatedly failed to do to the point she ends up commending him. I believe this is because his way of thinking is a lot closer to Chell's compared to GLaDOS'. He puts up way more of a fight as the two run through the facility trying to get to him, seemingly improvising on the spot just like Chell has been over the course of the two games. Even his lair would be impossible to survive if it weren't for a single Conversion Gel pipe he somehow failed to notice and remove.

Whether in a laboratory deep beneath the soil or an alien tower tall enough to split the clouds, the ingenuity of even a single person is enough to topple a tower or destroy a supercomputer 3 times over.

Marc Laidlaw put what I'm trying to say into a single sentence when writing for the BreenGrub twitter account:

"The superstructure is riddled with cracks."

[briefalpacashark]

The Confession

================================================

It was a mission—not a particularly hairy one, but not a walk in the park, either. Ghost was positioned in a semi-high building, and his sniper was set up in front of him, providing cover for the rest of the team as you all moved up towards the target building. You always felt safe having Simon on overwatch. You knew he would keep you all safe. After all, he was the best sniper on the team. 

“Can feel your eyes on my ass LT? Got a good view?” Jonny asked.

“Looking a little flat,” Ghost grumbled into the coms.

“Not looking at it from the right angle. Looks fucking fantastic from here, mate,” You tapped Jonny's shoulder as you walked past him, peeking down an alleyway. You were switching between point man. All taking turns as you cleared through the abandoned alleyway between the factories. You were at an old factory compound of sorts, probably used to build cars or something along the lines of manufacturing. 

“Not looking bad yourself,” Jonny joked. 

“Focus,” Price called you back into silence as you approached.

It happened suddenly; the bang sounded around you, only it came from above. Dust spurted from the ground beside your foot.

“SNIPER!” Price yelled as you all scrambled for cover. Ghost's eyes narrowed as he sought out the sniper. You flinched as the concrete you were hiding behind chipped and scattered over you. Ghost found the body perched in the window and shot. Only about six windows to the left, and another sniper sat. Ghost had given away his position, and the enemy took advantage of that. Ghost was pressed right up against the side of the window. His temple rested on the window frame. A window frame shattered upon the impact of the bullet. His eyes fluttered for the briefest second. He was trained not to flinch in situations like that. His heart stopped as he moved, seeking out his attacker. He spotted him and took his life with a single bullet before he could get off another shot.  As the gunshots ended, Ghost comms were filled with worried questions. He didn't answer any of them. The dull ringing from the shoot thrumed in his brain, but his eyes were on the bullet hole. It sat inches from his eyes. He had been inches from death. Not uncommon in his field. He had been in the same situation a thousand times over. But there was something different. It was you. Your voice. Your worry. You demands of worry that he answer you. He could have lost you. He could have never seen your face again, seen your smile, heard your laugh. That could have all been lost to him. He was filled with a deep regret. And at that very moment, Simon made up his mind.

He shoot up, pushing the sniper to the side and standing in the window. Upon seeing his body appear, you all let out breaths of relief.

“OI! LISTEN HERE YOU LITTLE SHIT!” he yelled, pointing directly at you.

“Me?” you asked, pointing to yourself.

“YES YOU! I LIKE YOU! SO YOU BETTER START ACKNOWLEDGING MY FUCKEN FEELINGS!” he yelled. Everyone's eyes went wide. With your thick skull, you wondered what he exactly meant. You and Simon had never officially become friends. 

“Ok? I would hope so!” You called back. You wondered if he had actually been shot and was in shock. 

“NO! I LIKE YOU AS I WANNA KISS YOUR FACE AND STUFF! AND WRAP MY ARMS AROUND YOU AND SHIT!” he couldn't understand the words coming out of his own mouth. His heart was thundering in his chest. 

“Oh, so you like like me!?” you called. Were you hearing him, right? Was that actually Ghost talking to you. 

“YEAH!” he nodded. There was silence as you looked up at him.

“Are you an imposter or something?” you asked. He must be. 

“STOP DICKING AROUND! YOU LIKE ME? OR NOT?” he asked. It was real. The shock somehow took over your mind. Trusting words out, you hadn't put a single thought into. 

“OF COURSE I LIKE YOU! YOU FUCKING BLIND!? I'VE BEEN FLIRTING WITH YOU FOR FUCKING AGES!” You were angry at his question. Yet, at the same time, you were unbelievably happy.

“FUCK OFF NO YOU HAVENT!” he yelled.

“YES I FUCKING HAVE! ALL THOSE WINKS! AND THE FOOD I MAKE YOU! AND DON'T EVEN MENTION THE COMPLIMENTS I GIVE YOU ASS ALL THE TIME!” you screamed. Unwise in your situation. Sure, but your screams were half due to your excitement.

“WELL,” Simon trailed off. “GOOD!” he declared.

“FINE SO WE LIKE EACH OTHER!” you clarified.

“SEEMS SO!” he yelled.

“GOOD!” you yelled.

“FINE!” You countered.

“STOP WASTING TIME! GET BACK TO THE MISSION!” he snapped.

“YOU'RE THE ONE THAT CONFESSED!” You snapped back. The boys watched on in utter shock.

“Did they just confess to each other?” Gaz asked, perplexed as the rest.

“I think so,” Price said, not entirely sure himself.

“Alright, let's get this done,” You were jacked up on adrenalin as you started to lead the way again. 

After all was said and done, the building cleared out, and the mission was complete. You all piled into the helicopter. You and Ghost sat opposite each other, you with a perplexed frown as you struggled to comprehend it all and Ghost with a blank expression, his inside raging with anxiety. What next? He thought. Should he kiss you? No, that would be too awkward in front of the others.

“Why do you like me?” You asked. It was a reasonable enough question.

“Can't I?” he asked gruffly.

“Depends,” you murmured. Once again, the boys watched on. They didn't know if it was an argument or not. 

“I don't know why. Just do,” he muttered.

“Wow, so you don't have a reason?” you asked sarcastically.

“I got plenty of reasons,” he said defensively.

“Why won't you tell me any of em?” you asked.

“Because quite frankly, there are really sappy reasons, and if I say them out loud, those boys will never look at me the same,” he jabbed his thumb at your audience. Price wanted to offer to leave the room, but seeing as they were in a chopper, that wasn't an option. Gaz and Jonny loved it, though. 

“But you'll tell me?” you asked.

“Of course. I'm going to marry you one day, so it doesn't matter,” he grumbled. Your eyes went wide.

“Since when did I agree to marry you?” you asked. You would say yes in a heartbeat, but he had just confessed. You have just confessed. 

“You don't want to?” he asked in offense.

“I didn't say that,” you snapped.

“Ok, are ye having an argument or confessing because I am beyond confused,” Jonny spoke up, raising his hand. 

“Can it,” Ghost snapped at him before turning back to you.

“So we like each other. that's established. When we get back I'll take you to dinner,” he stated definitively.

“Wow, dinner for a first date. So original,” you said. You were not sure why you were arguing. Perhaps it was the nerves.

“Well, shame on you 'cause it's gonna be fucking fantastic. I'm going to take you to that pasta bar you've been talking nonstop about. I was going to get every pasta dish there cause you can't decide which one to try, and then I'd put the leftovers in little containers and freeze them so you can eat them when you go on your little midnight kitchen raids. After dinner, I was going to take you to the ice cream place on the beach I really like, and then as we're walking, I'm gonna slip my hand in yours. Then we were going to walk up to the little lookout area, and you were gonna say the sunset is beautiful. Then I was gonna say it sure is, while I actually meant you're beautiful. Then you were gonna look at me, and then I snog ya,” he laid out the details, making your heart swell.

“Jokes on you, I don't know what snog means,” you stated.

“It means I will kiss ya till your knees went weak doc,” his voice hummed dangerously low in promise. You face flushed fifty shades of red at the simple thought of his lips on yours.

“And what if I kissed you first?” you challenged.

“I would like that very much,” he said.

“I don't have a nice outfit,” you said.

“Love you could wear that and you'd still be as beautiful as you always are,” he said. You let out a deep breath. It was a lot. The hot flushes came with every sentence he said. 

“What the fuck is going on?” Gaz whispered to himself. 

“Fuck it,” you grumbled. Ghost eyes widened as you lunged at him. One hand grabbed the bottom of his mask, hiking it up to his cheek, clenched in your fist. Your other hand grabbed the scruff of his collar, yanking him forward. And you placed your lips on his. Simon's mind went blank, his body filling with warmth as your soft lips danced across his. Utter pure bliss, that's what he felt. His eyes fluttered closed as his hands reached for you. Only you pulled back, your face flushed; you were unsure if your heart could take a moment more of it. Ghost opened his eyes to your smile, faint but still there. It was hidden under your nervous expression. You pulled the mask back down, pushing off his chest and moving back to your seat.

“Ha, I fucking win,” you grunted, grinning in victory. For the argument or the confession, you weren't sure, and you weren't even sure if there was any competition to begin with. You definitely had won; Simon would knowledge that any day. Clearing his throat, he crossed his arms over his chest hoping to hide the loud thudding of his heart.

“Indeed you did,” he nodded. You nodded back, and you two continued on like nothing had even happened.

“WHAT THE FUCK!” Jonny yelled.

Back at the base you had quickly walked away your head a muddled mess. Ghost watch you leave before turning to the boys.

“How did I do?” he asked.

“You know what for you, Ghost. You did pretty well,” Price gave him a pat on the shoulder. 

“That was a cluster fuck, and you know it,” Gaz said.

“But she likes me back. That's good,” Ghost sounded like he was trying to convince himself.

“Fuck your thick,” Jonny grumbled.

“Got something to say, Jonny?” Ghost asked, slightly defensive.

“She's head over heels for you, Lad,” Jonny chuckled.

“Really?” Ghost questioned. Jonny simply groaned, shaking his head and walking away. 

So there you stood in front of your room door, in the best outfit you had, which happened to be a button-up and a pair of jeans. You couldn't believe it. You were actually going on a date. Well, you thought you were. You weren't really sure. The knock on the door had your heart in your throat. Opening it, there stood Ghost. Both your heats raced with nervousness as silence filled the space between you. Both unsure of what to say. 

“Hi,” he grunted holding his hand out. His hand which held a small flower. A weed with its roots still attached. “I uh, there were'nt any better flowers and this was the only one,” he said. The poor lad had squared the base for any flower he could find. You smiled, taking the poor little thing in hand.

“I love it,” you said. He nodded, clearing his throat.

“Shall we go?” he asked, gesturing you to the door. 

“Give me a second,” you said, grabbing a small glass, filling it with water, and placing it beside your bed. “Ok, ready,” you said. He nodded again, holding a motorbike helmet out to you. Simon always rode his bike. A beautiful adventurer that you were jealous of every time you saw it. It was silent as you both walked out to the bike. Seeing Simon slip his helmet on, you did the same. Tugging it down, you started to fiddle with the clips. Simon waited patiently for a bit but quickly got tired of your struggle. 

"Come er," he grunted, grasping the bottom half of your helmet, his fingers brushing your nose as he tugged you close. You shivered as his fingers grazed your neck, and he quickly got to work. Your eyes focused on his that were focused on his hands. You still couldn't believe it. It all seemed like a crazy dream you were going to wake up from. 

"See something you like?" he asked. Heat flushed to the back of your neck at being caught.

"Don't baby me," you grunted, slapping his hands away in a flurry of waving slaps. His smile once again appeared in the corner of his eyes as he moved to the bike. Staring it up, he slipped a pair of gloves onto his hands before gesturing you on. He tried to hold back a huff of amusement as you awkwardly threw your leg over the high bike. You attempted to shimmy your way on, but you slipped back. 

"Need help?" you slapped the back of Ghost's helmet, telling him to shut up as you tried again. Only this time, when you slipped back, Ghost's hand reached back, catching your thigh with his large hand and, with one heave, helping you up. Settling on the back, you glanced around, unsure of what you should do. You had never been a passenger on a bike. You gasped slightly as Simons's hand was still on your thigh, tugged you forward so he was slotted flush between your thighs. He tried to ignore the pleasant feeling of the softness enveloping him.

"Here, hold me tight. Lean when I lean, and if you want me to stop, tap my chest twice. I won't be able to hear you when we're moving. If you want me to slow down, tap my chest once," he tugged your arms around him, failing to notice your blush. 

"Alright," you muttered, slightly nervous, pulling yourself to rest flush against his back. The poor man lost all sanity right at the moment. so much so that he froze for a couple of seconds. 

"You ok?" you asked, peeking round him.

"Y-Yeah," due to his muffled voice, you didn't hear the voice crack. 

"Also, one more thing. If I tap your thigh, it means hold on tight, a'right?" he asked. 

"ok," you nodded, entirely focused on his instruction.

"Good," he whispered stating the bike. The loud rumbling filled the night. 

And Simon pulled away, praying to all the gods he knew to give him power to focus on the road,

and not the feeling of your tits pressed flushed against his back

and not your palms pressed against his abbs

and not your thighs that would squeeze him at every turn

and not the feeling of your hand clutching dangerously low as you both went over a bump. 

================================================

=COD MASTER LIST=

================================================

[killerpancakeburger]

SILVER-TONGUED

SUMMARY: Soap drops by your office to pick you up, like every friday evening for your poker game with the Task Force. But when you turn out harder to remove from your desk than expected, he's going to resort to a different method.

PAIRING: Soap x f!Reader

TAGS: Civilian!Reader, Anxious!Reader, Clingy!Soap, Established Relationship, fluff, swearing, mention of chronic pain, suggestive/light smut: dirty talking, gropping, foreplay (?), semi-public (happens in your office on base but no one walks in lol), (they keep their clothes on). Idk how to tag, help

WORDS COUNT: 1.2k

A/N: Just because I wish I had a Soap to sweet-talk me from my desk at the end of the workday. *sigh wistfully* This is the filthiest thing I've ever written, so... enjoy? But also forgive my amateurism.

Plunged into your work, you’re essentiellement deaf and blind to the outside world. When you notice Soap's presence, he had the time to sneak into your office and behind your chair, arms folded over your backrest. By the way he pronounces your name, you can tell this isn’t the first time he's calling it.

“Hey,” you salute, surfacing back to reality with difficulty, focus not leaving your computer's screen, but reaching backwards blindly with one hand for contact. He grabs it right away.

“What's up?”

He chuckles a bit at that.

“Day's over is what's up. Ye coming?”

Your eyes fly to the clock in the bottom right corner of the screen. The evidence is damning: your shift has been over for ten minutes. It is far from unusual for you to stay too late, but tonight's friday and the 141's weekly poker game is summoning you in the form of an overeager Scotsman whose eyes you would damn yourself for.

On the field, the Sergeant MacTavish can remain immobile for hours on end with a sniper rifle in hand, stoically waiting for a target to get in his sights. On base however, your lover can hardly stay still more than a minute without a reason he'd deem legitimate.

His question is very much rhetorical. You tried to slip away once, not because you didn’t want to come but because you were worried the guys felt obligated to invite you out of politeness, and somehow Johnny must have read your mind because he snatched you and fireman carried you all the way there.

You wouldn’t have forgiven him if he had dared to pull those antics in front of others, but he managed to keep that spectacle just between the two of you. You still yelled at him a lot afterwards though. And punched him. And kicked him. Felt like hitting a punching bag anyway, so you didn’t feel guilt over the fact that he wasn’t defending himself at all. Once you were done huffing and puffing, you just glared at him, out of breath, fists clenched, and he stared back shamelessly, a grin on his face. The genuine joy in his expression was contagious, so you started laughing uncontrollably, and he joined you quickly. 

Coming from anyone else, this overly familiar behavior would have disturbed you. Being carried around like a helpless toy, powerless to resist someone else's will, wasn’t something you were fond of. But Soap proved himself time and time again to be safe. He could tell apart your serious reluctances from your playful protests, and if he had any doubt that you were uncomfortable, he would have stopped messing around instantly.

Deciding for you in that particular moment eased you off a burden, saving you from crippling indecisiveness and from endlessly weighing pros and cons in awkward silence. It was a favour.

You never contemplated refusing the offer again after that.

“In five minutes,” you bargain, not wanting to interrupt yourself in the middle of a task.

He loudly whines in protest at that, acting more distressed than he actually is.

“Nooo. Come ooon. Ye can finish later.”

“Be quiet,” you retort, and yet unable to curb an amused smile from stretching your lips.

He sighs exaggeratedly before admitting defeat. For exactly five minutes and not one second more.

“Bonniiiie.”

You don't relent.

“I'm almost done!”

“Ye were s'pposed to be done 20 minutes ago!”

You don't have any good argument to oppose that truth, so you remain silent. Soap does not.

He starts massaging your shoulders and dispensing cajoleries into your ear to coax you into compliance. You manage to tune him out until he curiously presses the tips of his fingers into your trapezius muscles and you wince. He lets out an impressed whistle.

“Fuck, yer tense. Yer shoulders feel like reinforced concrete.”

You sigh, having heard that one before.

“Bane of my existence,” you mumble absently.

He hums pensively, and you think that's the end of the matter, until his hand slides down your chest, all the way from your collarbone until your navel, leaving shivers in its wake, and his lips settle on the crook of your neck.

Concentrating suddenly becomes impossible.

“Johnny,” you call out in warning.

Or at least that was the goal, but you can hear in your own voice how affected you already are.

He treats his name like a demand for more, and leaves a trail of kisses along your neck and your shoulder, tugging on your collar to have more skin to work with. Meanwhile his hand caress and grope your torso, burning you through your clothes, in slow, unhurried motions that feel terribly suggestive. He knows your body so intimately well, only brushing the sore spots, like the side of your ribs, where the bone presses right beneath the skin, teasing the sensitive areas and tenderly stroking the rest.

“What do you think you're doing?” you contrive to ask, resisting the temptation to close your eyes to focus solely on his touch.

This may be afterhours, but you’re still in your work office, and anyone could barge in. While the idea may be arousing in theory, you know that the reality would mortify you.

“Just helpin’ ye relax, hen. Ye work too hard. Lemme take care o’ ye.”

Once again, you can’t find a good argument to oppose him. You do work too hard, and you desperately need to unwind before the pressure you self impose makes you explode like a time bomb. Since you've started dating, Soap had a tendency to mentor you into taking it easy, and he never steered you wrong until now.

You sigh in defeat, lift a hand to grasp his mohawk, letting your head tilt backwards, and surrender to his wandering hands and mouth.

Two fingers glide on the inside of your thigh, from knee to groin. In the meantime, his hand squeezes your breast. His lips stop from sucking and licking your flesh only to whisper filthy nothings into your ear.

“Could sneak under yer desk… make myself at home between yer legs… and let ye fuck my face while nobody knows. Would help with yer tension, ah'm sure.”

You suck in a gasp at the conjured mental image, legs spreading almost immediately. You, digging your fingernails into your palms with restraint, Johnny's cerulean eyes almost shining in the half-light of the bottom of your desk as he's staring hungrily at you, kneeling. Him raising a finger across his lips in silent command before spreading your knees further apart and nuzzling against your crotch. You fighting back against the urge to grind on his face and suffocate him between your thighs, the knowledge that he's not averse to the idea making things worse.

“Johnny,” you whimper, beguiled. “Fuck.”

He lets out an appreciative hum.

“Knew ye'd like that.”

The fingers tickling your inner thigh finally move to where you want them most. You grit your teeth to contain the moan that threatens to escape you as his middle finger runs up and down your slit.

Then the racket of your phone vibrating against the wood of your desk abruptly brings you back to reality. Your eyes open wide and you raise your head to see who's calling, only to swear in horror as Ghost's mask occupies the screen. As the contact's photo vanishes, a notification indicating seven missed calls makes your stomach twist in fear.

One does not stand up Lieutenant Riley and comes out unscathed.

[cheollipop]

heists and celebrations

navi | taglist

pairing: jung wooyoung x fem!reader x choi san

w.c.: 3.9k

tags: smut, they're all criminals/partners in crime, criminal behaviour (theft), mentioned boxer!san and his manager!wooyoung, some reckless driving

with the stolen necklace secured around your neck, wooyoung slumped back in his seat, fingers gripping the steering wheel while his eyes remained focused on the overhead mirror, watching his two partners celebrate another successful heist in the back of his van.

warnings: semi-public sex, van sex, really fucking filthy sex (genuinely disgusting), dom!woosan, sub!reader, some jealousy, reader is wearing red lipstick and it gets everywhere, unprotected sex (👎), creampie, oral (m receiving), deepthroating, cum swallowing, cum sharing, spit kink, praise, degradation (reader is called a slut once), a cute little breeding kink, a sprinkle of breath play (barely any), some begging, overstimulation, nicknames (sannie; youngie; baby, darling, sweetheart, love, good girl, pretty girl), wooyoung watches them fuck the whole time, and teases san because he's cute when riled up

A/N: I've had this fic idea in my notes since the very first woosan teaser dropped so I'm really glad I was finally able to write it out! ( ´∀ `) though challenging fsr, I really enjoyed writing the smut for this one. happy reading! ^^

nsfw under the cut—minors dni!! 🔞

Walking past the metal detectors, you raised your phone to peek at your reflection, making sure the glitter on your eyelids and the red painting your lips were intact, smacking them together once before walking further into exhibit.

Your footsteps slowed as you passed the broad, arched doorway and entered a wider gallery with accessories from numerous eras lining the walls, people crowding in front of the displays. Your eyes trailed over the diamonds and gold encased within the glass boxes, the overhead lights reflecting the luxury accessories. In any other heist, your eyes would remain forward, playing the role of a mere passerby minding their own business. But today, you were just another visitor in this exhibit, ogling at the jewellery on display. A quick, discrete scan of the room was enough to find you your target – standing near the wall to your left, the blonde head of hair displacing him in the monochrome room.

Just as you were about to move towards the tall figure, your gaze unintentionally flitted to the right, colliding with feline eyes staring right back at you from the other side of the room – the man standing idly in a uniform too big for him, bruises from last night’s match tainting his angular features. You twisted your body in the other direction, heeled boots clacking over the polished tile with confident strides, your eyes meeting the blonde man’s and dragging his attention off the rowdy school kids in the far corner. You waited until his gaze fell on you to dig the tip of your tongue into the corner of your mouth, blinking innocently as you approached him, your eyes moving down to read the ID card hanging off his neck.

Security Guard Song Mingi

Stepping into his personal space, your hand flew to his shoulder and you drew your eyebrows together in feigned distress. “Oh, thank God! Sir, could you please help me?”

Mingi’s head lowered to eye the hand resting delicately over his chest, looking back up to meet your anxious eyes. “S-sure, yes, of course," he stuttered when your fingers tightened around his lapel. "What can I help you with?"

You twisted your body and walked backwards until you hit the wall behind him, slumping against it and exhaling deeply. “My friend,” you paused, looking up at him now that he’d turned his back to the rest of the room. You blinked faux tears into your eyes, quivering your bottom lip ever so slightly while you spoke, “I’ve been looking for her for hours. Could you please help me find her, Sir?”

You watched Mingi’s ears shift hues, his head turning to the side as he coughed awkwardly. The bright red blurred in your peripheral as you stared ahead, nodding discretely at the idle figure across the room and watching it slip past the restricted ribbon closing off a section of the exhibit, looking back at Mingi when broad shoulders disappeared behind the corner.

“She said she’d meet me at the Tiffany and Co. section, but she never showed up. She won’t even answer her phone,” you leaned forward to wrap your fingers around his forearm, looking up at him with wide eyes, glassy with simulated concern. “I’m really worried about her, Sir. Please help me?”

--

Nimble fingers worked over the display case’s lock, occasionally looking back at the doorless entrance to confirm he was still in the clear. Moving his attention back to the small keyhole, he worked the pick and wrench inside with steady hands, the flashlight held between his lips reflecting off the glass. A whispered curse vibrated around the flashlight when his jacket sleeve slid down his arm, covering the hand holding the pick – along with the bloody scrapes and bruises colouring his knuckles – but he was too far in to back out now, working the lock with the fabric draped over it. After a few more tries, a muted click sounded and the glass door swung open.

Cat-like eyes raised off the picked lock to examine the diamond necklace hanging off the jewellery stand, studying the angle at which the light bounced off the large stones. Reaching forward, he carefully lifted the necklace with his index and thumb around the clasp, securing it in the felt bag he’d pulled out of his blazer before tucking it back inside. Digging his hand into his back pocket, he pulled out an identical replica – cheap moissanite bedazzling the silver – and intricately placed it inside the case, adjusting it over the stand before closing the glass door and listening for the soft click of its automatic lock.

Pulling the flashlight out of his mouth, he switched it off and patted his breast pocket once before walking back towards the entryway. A quick peek into the short hallway outside to ensure it was empty followed by quick steps past the red ribbon sealing off the section he had been in, San squinted at the bright overhead lights as he made it back into the main gallery, rooting himself in his previous position just in time for five suited men to make their way into the big room. Their conversation continued as they walked past San, nodding in acknowledgement before making their way over the restriction ribbon and through the short hallway, grease from the sandwiches they’d had for lunch coating their moving lips.

The familiar sonance of your laugh drew his attention to the wide entrance, his eyes finding yours over the blonde security guard’s shoulder before trailing down to study the arm draped over your waist. The plan was for you to guide him away from this gallery and into another, but there you were, barely an inch separating you and the tall man. San’s eyebrow twitched at the proximity, but more so at the dumb smile splitting his face in half while his other arm points towards where your ‘friend’ was supposedly waiting for you. Meeting your gaze once again, he gave you a firm nod before solemnly staring ahead.

With a flirty smile and a few bats of your eyelashes, you slipped a fake number into Mingi’s phone and walked away, the guard barely noticing you walking in the opposite direction of which he pointed you in.

San’s eyes flitted to the antique clock hung up on the wall across from him, turning around just in time to watch a man with a sharp nose and jet-black hair approach him. Quickly glancing at his ID card, San bowed slightly and began walking away as his ‘shift’ came to an end.

“Wait,” the deep baritone halted San’s movements, twisting his torso to look back at the guard. “Let me see your ID,” he reached a hand out, palm up and expecting.

San blinked once, twice, before pulling the lanyard off his neck and handing it to the man in front of him, turning his body to face him fully. The grim man examined the card, flipping it over a few times before sliding it back into San’s hand.

“Good work today, Yunho,” he gave him a tight smile which San reciprocated with a small bow before he moved away to stand where San had been all evening.

Stepping out of the stuffy exhibit and into the chilly night, San inhaled deeply, walking down the small steps and reaching into his blazer for the felt bag, swiftly stuffing it into his slacks before shrugging off the loose uniform and slinging it over his shoulder. He strutted down the block, his lips pursed as he whistled mindlessly, his soiled tank top sticking to his body with the night breeze blowing over his skin.

A few minutes of walking led him to a familiar convenience store, the lights flickering weakly and the table set out the front swaying with the light wind. Casually peeking over his shoulder, he made sure no one was following him before turning a corner, your familiar figure – resting against the graffitied wall – waiting for him in the damp alleyway. You pushed yourself off the grimy concrete, a smile stretching your lips when your eyes zeroed in on the felt bag pinched between two of his fingers.

Grabbing onto the thin material of his tank top, you pushed San backwards until his body crashed into the wall, the red on your lips transferring to his when you pressed your mouths together, the metallic taste of blood seeping into your taste buds as you licked over the corner of his lip. San’s fingers wrapped around your nape, inhaling deeply before parting his lips and running his tongue over your bottom teeth. Cold fingers tickled the sides of your neck, a heavy weight falling over your collarbones while San’s tongue pressed against yours. One of your hands untangled from the material of his top, running over your decolletage until your fingers made contact with the cool silver and curved over the slope of the large diamonds. The felt bag – now empty and worthless – fell into the puddle by your feet, the malodor of sewage masked by the hunger in San’s eyes, his hands wandering over your body while he devoured you.

A loud honk from the van parked down the alley cut your fit of passion short. You giggled at San’s irritated griping as you made your way to the vehicle, the metal surface littered with dents of various sizes and the colourful lettering chipping off the white paint. You walked past San as he pulled at the back handles, skipping your way to the front and watching the door fly open, sliding into the passenger seat as Wooyoung retreated back into his.

“Welcome back,” he flicked the tip of your nose, his eyes fixed on the glimmering stones hanging off your neck. “I’m guessing we can skip the debrief?” A lopsided smile pulled at the corner of his mouth.

Looping two fingers around the silver band, he tugged you towards him, the clasp digging into the back of your neck as some of the lipstick still painting your lips smeared over Wooyoung’s, his tongue gliding over yours to flatten over the roof of your mouth.

The curtain behind you slid open, San’s deep grumble obscured by your heavy breathing. “Ya! I worked my ass off to get that. If you wanna pull that hard, just buy her a leash,” he propped his forearm on the back of the seat, resting his chin over it to study the red smudged over Wooyoung’s lips.

“Worked our asses off,” you complained.

“No, I worked my ass off while you were busy flirting with that prick.”

You could see Wooyoung’s eyebrow quirk, his questioning gaze lasting only a second before he parted from you with a final kiss, letting go of the necklace and slumping back in his seat to turn the engine on. “Leave her alone, Sannie. If you wanted to be praised for doing your job right, you should’ve just said so,” he pressed his foot down on the pedal, reversing out of the alleyway before digging his palm into the steering wheel and turning it twice to move onto the empty road.

The pout on your lips faded when your eyes met San’s, angling his chin to point at Wooyoung, the silent communication bringing a shared smile to your lips.

“Youngie,” you tugged on his sleeve, leaning over the console to get closer to him.

“Yeah, baby?” his eyes remained trained on the road, a few cars driving alongside him on the dark highway.

San chuckled breathily, “I think our pretty girl wants to thank you for the ride. We couldn’t have pulled this off without you. Right, sweetheart?”

You nodded eagerly, gliding your palm up his thigh and inwards to tease at his clothed crotch. He glanced over at you, his teeth peeking through his parting lips, the corners curled upwards.

“Oh really? Is there anything else you want to thank me for?”

“Thank you for getting rid of that Yunho guy, we would’ve been in trouble if he had been there,” your fingers trailed over the zipper, circling his button before popping it open.

“Mm, that’s right. Come on now, sweet girl, thank me properly,” Wooyoung slumped further down in his seat, widening his legs and dropping one hand off the steering wheel to give you space.

Just as you freed his half-hard length from the confines of his boxers, San’s hand cupped the back of your head and pushed you down. Your torso bent over the console, the gear stick digging into your waist by the time San let go of you.

You pulled away slightly, fingers wrapped around his base and tongue rolled out to place kitten licks over his cockhead. Wooyoung peeked down at you to follow the line of drool dripping off your tongue to lubricate his cock, snapping his eyes back up to the road with a guttural groan squeezed your fist around him. You pressed your lips to his tip, placing your hands over his upper thighs and moving back to admire the painted outline of your lips – the last of your lipstick colouring it red.

When you deemed him hard enough, your lips closed around his leaking head, giving him a gentle suck to feel his thighs contract before taking him further into your mouth. You nuzzled your nose into the hair around his base and relaxed your throat, flattening your tongue over the underside of his cock and reveling in the tight grunts it elicited from above.

A loud horn blared from the lane beside yours, Wooyoung’s vision unblurring and his palm hurriedly gliding over the steering wheel to adjust the swerving van. San snickered behind him, partly at your muffled coughs around the younger man’s cock as the rough steering jerked your body around. You pull away to breathe once the vehicle settled, inhaling deeply and clearing your throat, the bitter taste of precum on your tongue.

“I don’t think she’s thanking you hard enough, Youngie,” San tsked behind you, palming over his clothed cock as he took in your red eyes and sniffling nose.

“Mm, I think you’re right,” the arm resting idly over the console raised, fingers tangling in the hair at your nape and pushing your head downwards until the warmth of your mouth engulfed him once again, soft groans escaping through gritted teeth as your throat constricted around his tip. With the hand in your hair, he began moving you over his cock, bobbing your head and noting the weight of the necklace adoring your neck falling over his thigh every time his tip brushed against your uvula. “Fuuuuck, that’s my good girl.”

The outline of his vein slid over your tongue, pulsing as you took him down your throat. You could hear the slick movement of San’s hand over his cock, his eyes moving between your stretched lips and Wooyoung’s parted ones, soft, breathy moans muffled under the wind rushing through the open window. You felt him twitch inside your mouth, the familiar clench of his abdomen egging you on, taking him all the way and hollowing your cheeks. The van veered to the left again, Wooyoung’s eyes barely open as pleasure rushed through his veins with every squeeze around his cockhead. You swallowed around him once, twice, before gagging around the hot ribbons of white shooting down your throat. The limp fingers in your hair regained their strength, pushing your head down while he rolled his hips into your mouth, your jaw going slack as he used you to milk out the last of his cum.

San’s eyes fluttered shut to take in the melodies playing through Wooyoung’s parted lips – rough grunts paired with airy moans while he fucked the last of his load into your mouth, pulling you off him to wipe the tip of his cock over your face, a line of cum smeared over your cheek. A few seconds of muted shuffling passed before saltiness consumed San’s tastebuds, your mouth roughly pressing against his, tongue breaching his lips to share some of Wooyoung’s release. His Adam’s apple bobbed, eagerly swallowing down the tangy liquid before diving in for more, pushing you further into him with a hand to the back of your head. A throaty moan vibrated against your lips, San’s cock lurching in his limp fist as he sucked the last of Wooyoung’s load off your tongue. Pulling away, you grabbed San’s jaw firmly and moved your head closer to spit into his open mouth, a mixture of your spit and his marbled with milky white reflecting the passing streetlights before disappearing down his throat.

“Wooyoung, fuck,” he spoke, words slurred from the tight grip you have on his jaw, rolling his wrist around his leaking cockhead. “Pull over. I need her right fucking now.”

--

The van jumped over a speedbump, the driver too distracted to slow down, eyes trained on the overhead mirror instead of the road as two bodies moved steadily in the reflection. Two fingers twisted the volume knob to the left, silencing the music to revel in the harmony of moans surging from the back of the van.

The worn-down mattress was anything but comfortable, your dripping pussy adding to the stains decorating it. Looking over to the side, your eyes settled on the discarded boxing gloves from the night before, splotches of maroon flaking off the faux leather. One of San’s hands cupped the back of your head, pushing your face down while he pounded into you from the back, his other pulling at the necklace around your neck, the diamonds pressing into your skin to form thin crescents.

Wooyoung scoffed at the sight – red spreading from the soiled collar of San’s tank top and up to his neck, beads of sweat rolling down his skin and sinking into the cheap cotton. “What happened to all your hard work, hm?” his eyes rolled down to San’s white knuckles, wrapped tightly around the accessory restricting your airflow.

“Shut up,” he spat, his hips slamming into the backs of your thighs as he pumped his cock between your fluttering walls. The hand covering the back of your head slid down your spine to squeeze at your waist, his blunt nails stabbing into your heated flesh while husky grunts vibrated through his throat.

Wooyoung’s eyes shifted to your face, concealed as you looked over to the side, your lips parted with drool pooling under your head. “Aw, I think Sannie got a little jealous earlier. Right, sweetheart?”

The words reduced to mere sounds in your head, the syllables meshing as San’s cockhead pistoned into your g-spot, barely registering the rough fingers tangling into the hair at your crown before sharp pain seared through your scalp, your chest lifting off the tattered mattress and neck craning as San angled your face upwards. You sucked in deep breaths now that the silver band wasn't digging into your neck, choking around broken cries of pleasure. Hooded eyes studied your face in the small mirror – pupils dilated, tears and glitter eyeshow staining your heated cheeks with saliva trickling down your chin, body jerking forward every time San’s hips slammed into yours, his cock stretching you open around his girth.

“'Don’t think she can answer,” San rasped, his eyes dropping to watch the flesh of your ass ripple every time he drove into your clenching cunt. “Ah- So fucking tight for me.”

Wooyoung’s fingers squeezed around the steering wheel, “is he fucking you good, baby?” The corners of his lips twitched with a concealed smirk, “or is my pretty slut still thinking about that man’s cock?”

Your brain short-circuited, shots of burning pleasure soaring through your veins and forcing your eyes shut. “it’s good, s-so good,” your speech was barely coherent, moans spilling out of you as San continued to fuck you through Wooyoung’s interrogation.

“What about my second question?” San’s eyes flew towards the mirror to meet Wooyoung’s, clenching his jaw so tight it bordered on painful, the younger man smiling to himself over how easy it was to rile San up.

San rammed his cock inside you, holding it deep within your cunt while he bent at the waist to whisper in your ear, the deep baritone of his voice nearly masked under your pathetic moaning, “be a good girl and answer Youngie’s question, or have I already fucked you dumb?"

“I-I’m not! ‘Love Sannie’s cock so much- hnngh!” your upper body flopped onto the mattress, your scalp burning under the palm San had flattened over your head, fingers rubbing soothing lines over your roots while he ground his cock into your heat.

“That’s right,” he pressed his lips to your slick shoulder and gave you a harsh thrust, rolling his hips once, twice before pulling off you. His hands slid down your body to grab at your hips, dragging you back over his length with a grip tight enough to promise bruises. One of his knees nudged against your inner thigh to spread your legs even further, giving you a few seconds to breathe before he began hammering his cock into you. “Love my cock so much you’ll let me breed this tight pussy, won’t you, darling?

“Nghh- fuck! Sannie, please-”

“Give it to me, love, ‘wanna feel you cream all over my cock,” the tautness of his voice, strained as he chased his orgasm with sloppy thrusts, was enough to send you over the edge.

Your vision went black as your eyes rolled to the back of your head, thighs shaking while you your orgasm rushed through you. A succession of curses and San’s name rolled off your tongue, followed by desperate pleas for him to come as he frantically humped your overstimulated cunt. Your body jolted as pain mixed with pleasure, your vision blurring with tears while San used you like a cocksleeve, leaning over you to whisper in your ear, whimpered praise falling off his tongue – a melody of ‘just a little more’ and ‘you can take it’ sending shivers down your spine.

You felt him split you open thrice before a familiar warmth spread through your lower belly, his cock twitching between your fluttering walls as he unloaded his seed inside you. His arms wrapped around your middle, holding your body flush against his shuddering chest while he grinded into your used cunt, draining himself of every last drop. Delicate hands smoothed over your sides at the pained whimper you released into the dungy mattress, San’s softening cock slipping out of you and making way for a stream of his cum to trickle out of your gaping hole. He took a few seconds to moon over the mess he'd created before pursing his lips and adding to it, dropping a wad of spit onto your drenched pussy, your hips jolting when a calloused thumb ran through the fluids painting your folds.

You barely noticed the van making a sharp turn, the engine going silent half a minute later and drawing your attention to the front, a rest stop sign shining through the windshield. Wooyoung’s head poked through the gap between the seats, his eyes glazed over as he took in the sweaty bodies sprawled out in their own mess. He lifted his arm to hurl a roll of cash at San, his eyes remaining fixed on your twitching form as he imagined the steady stream of cum making its way down your thighs.

“Sannie, go grab some food and water. I think I need to be thanked a little more.”

reblogs/feedback are greatly appreciated!! ^^ apply for my tag list here (´｡• ᵕ •｡`) ♡

[floofyroro]

To Be Held

Pairing: Crosshair/Reader

Words: 682 (fic vignette)

Tags/warnings: hurt/comfort, angst, fluff, semi-established relationship

Summary: In a quiet moment together, you inquire about Crosshair's scar.

A/N: Many drabbles sit untouched in my notes app. I'm getting tired of staring at my longer WIPs and I think I just need to share something at this point. Please accept these crumbs and let me know if this resonates with you. 🙏 Part 2 is here.

Your touch is feather-light against his temple. He allows his head to lay limply across your lap and despite how intimate it feels, he can’t find any reason to care. Not when your fingertips trail back and forth from his cheeks to his neck. When they reach his shoulders, you press into him, making quick work of any lingering tension.

“What’s the story behind this scar?” 

He goes rigid and you must notice because you pause your minstrations as a result. 

“I’m sorry.”

A pause. 

“I… we don’t have to talk about—“

“Bracca,” he interrupts you, causing you to quiet. 

“It happened on the planet Bracca while I was still serving the Empire.”

His voice feels hoarse from disuse. When your touch resumes, albeit with more hesitance, so does he.

“I was… targeting my brothers and Omega. But I was facing an ion engine when it ignited. I... couldn’t get away in time.” 

The breeze picks up once more, the curtains billowing in the background. Crosshair welcomes the salt-licked sensation that’s brought in by the wind, finding that it contrasts nicely against the rise of his own internal body temperature. 

His body seems to remember the moment far too well. Crosshair has to tamp down against the rising fear, the rising anxiety that threatens to overtake him. He feels it all creeping over his shoulders but this time…

This time, your touch is already there to combat these ghosts. It takes your lithe fingers, your dexterous thumbs to press into him and he finds that maybe he can move on from these moments, these ghosts. 

If only while by your side.

While you remain silent, he reassesses.  Perhaps with time, you’ll come to find that he isn’t worth the commitment, that his baggage is too daunting to carry. With each layer that he bares before you, he finds that his confidence in being vulnerable is challenged. Will continue to be challenged. He wonders that with time, it’ll ease.

You sigh. 

He waits, anticipating a form of rejection. He wonders if looking up into your eyes would reveal a look of disgust.

You don't give him much time to ponder further.

Your hair trickles against his nose before he registers that you’re leaning down to cradle his head to your chest. Soft hands support him, and the sound of your heartbeat thrums against his cheek, his temple. 

It’s a rather nice sound. 

“You have been through so much.” 

It takes him a moment too long to parse the meaning of your words. These aren’t words that should be directed towards him. No, not with the mountain of sin weighing heavily on his shoulders. 

Instead of accepting them, he focuses on your heartbeat, the sound a balm for these thoughts.

It’s a soft, lulling thing.

But your caress against his temple, his scar, is what brings him back to you. 

He doesn’t know what to say to that. He… 

His chest tightens because yes. He can admit that he has gone through enough. An arm snakes around you in his own attempt to return the embrace, the action surprising yet natural. 

You tighten your hold on him in response. 

“I’m sorry, Crosshair. But I’m so glad you’re here now,” and he opens his eyes to find that his gaze is clouded, his cheeks dampening as he tries to inhale steadily, “here, where you’re safe. Here, with me.”

There’s a crack in your voice and it causes his heart to stutter. He isn’t used to this. This.. feels too good to be true. Is he dreaming? The rational side of him berates such a thought because obviously he’s awake and he’s here, with you, with kind words directed towards him, their meaning a nectar which he feels drawn to, finding that he’s ravenous for more.

Instead of speaking, he uses his palm on your back to pull you closer, the pressure of your chest against him welcome and grounding. Without a second thought, his fingers brush against your spine, your shirt catching against the callouses on his hands.

He’s never been good with words anyway. 

Part 2 is here.

[ddejavvu]

Hi!! So I saw your post for Anakin request and I thought of one. Remember that scene where Anakin and Obi wan go in a club? So I was thinking that scene with Reader and Anakin seeing Reader getting hit on and his being a little jelly. Reader gotta remind him that its him that she wants

Debilitating Desire - Anakin Skywalker x Reader (18+)

Summary: Anakin doesn't handle jealousy well. When a sleazy patron of a bar you're investigating decides he's got the right to touch you, and Anakin can't react because your relationship is a secret, he has to save his outburst for later. Unfortunately, he's only able to make it a few steps down the street before he decides he needs you, right here, right now.

Contents/Warnings: jedi!reader, fem!reader, smut (minors dni), p in v, rough sex, biting, overstimulation, semi-public sex (they're in an alleyway), jealousy, reader gets grabbed by the wrist by a creepy guy </3, lots and lots of messy kisses, anakin's a little possessive but is anyone surprised

WC: 5.2K / navigation / inbox / send me anakin requests!

feedback is greatly appreciated! comment, reblog, talk in the tags, send me a message, tell me what you think!

Scouting information from bartenders is next to impossible, but scouting it from their patrons is much easier. Loose-lipped drunks are your targets tonight, and you reconvene with Anakin to corroborate information after gathering intel.

"Okay, I've got a Twi'lek male," You start, and Anakin shakes his head.

"No, no, one of the men I talked to said he was Neimoidian."

"Someone else said Rodian," You groan, "Anakin, maybe we should be asking people who aren't drunk."

"Look around," The man before you scoffs, gesturing to the bar full of nothing but reeling, wobbly drunks, "No one here is sober but him."

"He doesn't have a translator on hand," You drawl, looking at the Ithorian bartender who purposefully 'forgets' his translator whenever someone tries questioning him, "And we don't either."

"We're not getting anywhere," Anakin concludes, a sour scowl on his face as he reaches for your waist to lead you out. "No one's sober, so let's just go, and-"

"I'm sober." A raspy, near-hoarse voice comes from a table nearby, and a hand catches your wrist. Your instinct is to reel back but you don't, even when Anakin's hand tries prying you away with its gloved grip on your waist.

It's a human speaking to you, as far as you can tell, and he's leaning back into the shadowy corner of the bar that he'd been occupying. You're not sure for how long, but if he knows anything about the incident you're trying to gather intel on, you'd like to hear it.

"How long have you been here, sir?" You question, tensing slightly when the man's hand stays firm around your wrist.

"Couple hours," He looks smug, knowing he's holding prized information from two Jedi, "Something you'd like to ask me?"

"You've been here for a couple hours and you're sober?" Anakin questions, pressing you harder into his side in his futile attempt to casually tear you away from the man, "I don't believe that."

"I can hold my liquor," The man boasts, voice far more harsh when addressing Anakin than yourself, "Among other things."

Anakin's had enough. He grabs your hand, stealing it away from the seedy man's grasp and scoffing something unintelligible at him. But you yank him back, a tense smile on your face as you tilt your head towards him urgently.

"I'd like to find out what he knows," You speak forcefully, leaving no room for argument even if Anakin is especially good at creating them.

He scowls at you with an intensity that would normally excite you, though you're not sure you're capable of any feeling other than creeped in the bar you're standing in now.

"You're welcome to go back to the transport if you'd like," You narrow your eyes at Anakin, and the man in the booth leans back smugly at the offer, "But I'm going to do my job."

"Yes, boy," The man disregards Anakin's hands clenching at his sides, "Go back to your ship. You're not needed."

"I'm fine here," Anakin snaps, and the second you sit down across from the man, his hands are on your shoulders as he stands behind you. He grips them tight but the gloved hand clenches just a little more into your skin, and the firm grip grounds you, keeping your voice steady when you speak.

"If you've been here for a couple of hours, you probably witnessed an unfortunate incident a little while ago, didn't you? A fight?"

"There's lots of fights here," The man hums, pretending to think on it, "Can you be more specific?"

"The victim had seven blaster wounds," Anakin seethes, hands only tightening in their grip on your shoulders, "You happen to hear seven blasts?"

"Eight." You mutter, pointing at a singed hole in the wall, "One missed."

"Ah, blaster fight," The man in front of you strokes a hand thoughtfully along his stubbled jaw, "Yeah, 'think I can remember something like that. Some incentive might help jog me a bit, though."

You're not sure whether he means money or sex, but you can't rule either out with the way he's staring. You'd have expected the modest Jedi robes you're wearing to deter any wandering eyes but evidently, some people can't be discouraged.

"We don't have any incentive to offer," You narrow your eyes at him, and Anakin takes over.

"Unless by incentive you mean your life. Tell us what you saw, or you'll envy the target of those blasts."

Your annoyance boils just beneath your skin at Anakin's threats, but you know he won't listen to your urgings to be more careful with his word choice. This man doesn't exactly seem like he'd file a formal complaint with the Jedi Council, but if word ever got around that Anakin was threatening unnecessary violence, you're sure it wouldn't go over well.

Despite Anakin's words having been nothing but a bluff, the man changes his tune when he notices the saber clipped to Anakin's belt, your own hidden beneath the edge of the table. He straightens in his seat, sighing in annoyance, "It was two Neimoidians. Dressed real fancy, stood out like sore thumbs in this place. They cornered some unlucky human over there," He points to the corner of the bar where the singe mark hangs over the cheap decor, "She tried to run, but a Rodian shot her down."

"One Rodian?" You ask, and the man nods.

"Hell of a shot." The man muses with a gnarled grin, and that only makes you more worried. Hell of a shot but he'd fired eight? Clearly they wanted this human - who you have good reason to believe was an undercover informant working against the Separatists - dead.

"The shooter and the Neimoidians were working together?" Anakin confirms, receiving another nod from the man opposite you.

"Thank you," You stand, and to your delight, Anakin's hands snake down your back, the strong, gloved one finding your waist again like a magnet.

"I'm here most nights," The man calls out before you can leave, and you turn to glance at him in disdain as he props his feet up onto the dingy table, "Love to see 'ya off duty, sweetheart."

"Go," Anakin spits against your ear, grip on your waist turning harsh. Your breath hitches and you let Anakin practically push you out of the bar and onto the streets, teeming with civilians until you duck into an alleyway three blocks down from the door.

You're immediately backed up against the wall of the building behind you, but you're too fired up to care as you glare at Anakin, "Don't start with me. Threatening him, Anakin? What if Obi-Wan found out?"

"Obi-Wan is going to be too busy tracking down those Neimoidians to care how we got it out of the guy," Anakin scoffs and the exasperated breath hits your face. His expression only darkens further at the mention of the older man, "That's not the point. Did you see the way he was looking at you?"

"That doesn't matter," You assure Anakin with a soft sigh, but from the distasteful curl of his lips into a hard sneer, it does matter. He's standing tall in front of you with ragged, angry breaths coming from his chest, brows furrowed and jaw clenched as he tries containing his upset. It's not aimed at you, of course, but it's a sight nevertheless. He's all sharp features and tense muscles, rage brewing inside of him that's sure to spill over if you don't turn down the heat in time.

"Men like that are creeps," You dismiss, but Anakin is much less eager to let the situation go, still pressing you against the wall of the dingy alleyway, "Women don't talk to him unless he pays them to, is it any surprise he was forward when I approached him for free?"

"But you gave him no indication-" Anakin gushes, poorly-contained rage grating at his rough voice, "I don't understand. I don't understand how I'm supposed to be yours, how you're supposed to be mine, if people like him think you're theirs for the taking."

"It doesn't matter what he thinks, he can't have me, Anakin." You assure him. You know it's hard for him, being secretive about your relationship. Anakin is highly devoted, to his work, to his training, but most of all to you, and to have to stuff that down whenever you're not alone grates on his nerves.

Your answer doesn't seem to persuade him, so you brace your hand against his rapidly rising and falling chest, "He can't have me because I'm yours, Anakin."

Whatever hateful haze has clouded over his eyes clears like fog as he blinks at your words, probably muscling down hot tears of frustration. He surges forwards to kiss you, and it's hard to be upset that you're pressed against a dirty wall when Anakin's mouth is on your own.

His kisses are fervent and desperate, lips relentlessly catching your own between them. They're sloppy as his hands find your waist like there's magnets in your blood, his palms oppositely charged.

"I want you," He pleads, voice rough and ragged, "I want you all the time. I wanted to take your hand in there. I wanted to take more than your hand," He pants, speaking against your lips that have grown dewy from his saliva. "I wanted to grab your jaw-" He mimics the action, gloved hand clenching at your chin, "And- and kiss you, and bend you right over his table and take you."

"Right in his face," Anakin grunts, and you feel his cock beginning to stiffen through the layers of his robes as he presses himself to you. "Right in his fucking face, angel, I wanted to have you."

"You have me now," You breathe, equally as lustful as you press sticky kiss after sticky kiss to Anakin's tense jawline, "Ani, you have me now, and you have me forever."

"Forever," He groans, and you can see his eyes dilate at the thought. He's perpetually breathless as he chooses to spend his oxygen by kissing you once more. It's all heavy pants and strings of drool, appropriate for the dark, damp alleyway you're hidden in; a dirty fuck for a dirty place.

"Anakin," You moan, your pussy pulsing as his tongue smooths over your top lip, "I need you, here-" Your words muffle as Anakin licks flat over your lips, practically drinking the words out of your mouth, "-here and now. I know it's dirty, but I- I need it. I need you. Please?"

"Say it again," He orders, kissing you so that you can't.

You have to speak while he's still dragging his thick, wet tongue over yours, "I need you."

"More," He presses, his nose now nudging at your cheek as he tilts his head, granting himself only deeper access to your warm mouth.

"I need you," You vow, words garbled as he never backs away from your mouth, "Anakin, I need you."

"You have me," He groans, reveling in the pleasure that your words bring him. His hips roll compulsively against yours, grating through the many layers of robes you're both clad in like he can't stop them if he tries. "And I have you. Angel, I've got you, come here."

He says it like you're trying to leave, like you're not smashed flat between him and a wall. But you try anyways, slinging your hand around his neck to drag him in closer.

Anakin was focused on undoing your belt, but when you pull him close with your arm wrapped behind his neck he pauses, eyes closing as he knocks his forehead against yours.

"Ani-"

"He touched you," Anakin remembers, reaching up to take your wrist in his hand. He holds it delicately, bringing it between your faces to kiss the soft skin against the inside, "He grabbed you. He touched you right here," He peppers more soft kisses against your wrist, "Did he hurt you?"

"No," You hum softly, lips still slick with Anakin's spit, "It was just creepy, that's all. It didn't hurt."

"I'm sorry. I love you," He tells the skin of your wrist, and your hand naturally fits against his cheek, your fingertips ghosting over his ear.

"I love you," You repeat him, and his eyes flit back to your own.

"I love you." He rushes in for another kiss, this one just as desperate as the last. His tongue probes freely through your mouth, he's always been good with it, and your cunt clenches around nothing as Anakin's hands slide back to your waist. This time he lets you sling both of your arms around his neck, shuddering into the kiss when your nails scrape up the baby hairs at the base of his neck.

"Fuck," He groans against your mouth, fingers tugging more desperately now on the belt that he's so accustomed to putting on and taking off. Finally he undoes the buckle, letting it slide down to your ankles. You feel dirty as you hear the clatter of your saber against the ground; you're getting stripped and fucked in a dingy alleyway. But It releases the waistband of your pants, and shame gives way to pleasure as Anakin pries eagerly at the clasp.

"Touch me," You beg, and he's one step ahead of you. His hand presses flat to your belly as he snakes it down your pants, his warm skin pressed flush to your slit as he cups your needy cunt. You feel slick gathered in your pussy, and you're sure if he slips two fingers inside, it'll gush over his digits.

"You're warm," He murmurs, and you're not sure whether he means the spit he's lapping from your mouth, or the way your cunt bleeds heat against his palm. Either way, you know he likes it as his hips buck into your own again, pressing his hand further against your pussy.

"Ani," You feel his bulge through the layers of clothing he's sporting, still dragging him impossibly further with your arms around his neck, practically smashing his face into yours. "Ani, I need you inside, please?"

"I'll take care of you," He promises, kissing sweetly across your jaw, and down to your neck, "Angel, I want you to touch me."

"Hm?" Your brain is dazed, comprehending little as Anakin rolls his palm against your clit.

"Use this hand," He reaches for the one that the man inside had grabbed, "Use this hand, angel, and touch me with it. Get me hard, use the hand he touched."

"Okay," You breathe, scrambling for his belt and letting him help you with the hand that's not down your pants. A part of you is worried someone will see the two of you, but halfway disrobed and shrouded in shadow, you're not recognizable as Jedi, nor are these streets ever free from filth; you blend right in.

When Anakin's belt is undone he lets it fall just like your own had, and you gratefully slip your hands beneath the tunic it had been holding down. You have easy access to his pants now, and slipping your hand inside like he's doing to you means you're met with a half-hard dick.

"You're leaking," You observe, as precum oozes from the head of his cock. You smear it around the tip with your thumb, and his hips jerk into your hand. It's an awkward angle that you're at, stroking his dick while he cups your pussy in the palm of his hand, but it's apparently not uncomfortable to him, because with each pump of your fingers around the length of his cock, it hardens in your grip.

"Oh- fuck, get it- get it messy," He pants, straining as he tries not to cum right then and there at the sight of his pre smeared over your hand.

It's hard not to get it messy. His sticky precum oozes from the head of his dick like a steady stream, beads and beads of the stuff smeared away by your hand to help lubricate the measured strokes you're pumping over his dick.

Your fingers are soon tacky with precum, and his dick makes obscene squelching noises as you run your fist down it. He's panting as his palm grinds hard against your clit, and your hips snap into his hands, moving your entire body forwards. It means your fist slides roughly, sharply straight down to the base of his cock, and he bites back a hiss at the slight pain you've inflicted upon him.

"Now," He breathes rough and ragged, "I need you now. Maker, I'm gonna fucking-" He cuts himself off with a grunt, the hand that's cupping your wet heat flipping and twisting to yank the waistband of your pants down. It catches you by surprise, and the tantalizingly small amount of friction you'd been able to gain while grinding against his palm is gone, leaving the cool air of Coruscant's dingy lower levels to shock you.

"Put it in," He orders, his head downturned, forehead pressed against your own, "Baby, put- get me inside of you, I need-to-be-inside-of-you- there y'go."

You use your fist to line up his cock with your needy entrance, his hips more than willing to close the distance to make it easier for you. You don't get a second to adjust to the heavenly feeling of his tip brushing against your folds before he's jackhammering into you, chest now pressed tightly to your own as he slams you once more against the wall.

You let out a garbled scream as you're instantly full, the pace Anakin sets absolutely merciless on your sloppy cunt. You're well wet enough to provide lubrication for his lengthy cock, but just because you're wet doesn't mean you're ready, and the sensation of him bypassing any cautious thrusts and heading right into jackrabbit territory is one that has you crying out.

"Scream," Anakin hisses, his teeth digging harshly into your plush bottom lip. He licks over the stinging bite mark seconds later, the wet muscle sweeping over your own, "Scream as loud as you can, angel. I want him to hear. Tell him," He pulls away from your mouth only to wrestle your face to the side, his gloved hand gripping tight at your jaw.

"Tell him," Anakin urges, kissing and licking sticky stripes up your neck, "Tell that miserable old creep who makes you scream. Tell him who you love, tell him who fucks you into the wall."

"A- Ani-" You try, but it's not good enough for the man still relentlessly pounding his hips against yours. His free hand is gripping the pliant flesh of your ass with a force that surely means your chub is spilling through his fingers, and he uses the grip to hike your leg up, giving him a better angle to destroy your drooling cunt from.

"Louder. Say it louder." Anakin demands, forcing your jaw open with his hand, "Tell him!"

It's terribly difficult to power through the rather attention-grabbing sensation of Anakin's rock-hard cock bullying your wet cunt. He's rougher than he needs to be, balls slapping hard against the flesh of your ass that he's got in his hold.

But you have to try, and with an embarrassingly loud, desperate pitch to your voice, you scream, "Anakin!"

The second his name comes spilling from your lips in a wanton cry he manhandles your face back towards him, jamming his lips over your own.

"Maker," He growls, "You're so fucking perfect. I tell you to scream my name and you do it," He revels in your obedience, tongue licking a hot, wet stripe over your mouth. He holds it open with his fingers pinched into your cheeks but he doesn't venture inside, merely flattening his tongue over your stinging, swollen lips to leave a drooly residue behind. Only once you've been marked does he delve his tongue between your lips, licking at your own like it's his last meal.

"You're so good for me," His words slur together in their intensity, voice thick and raw with obsession, "Nngh, you're so-" You reach down, barely able to coordinate enough brainpower to take his balls into your hand, massaging them as best you can while his hips piston in and out of you at record pace, "-you're so good to me, Angel. More, give me- more, I want more." He begs, the words spilling over your tongue. He grabs tighter at the flesh of your ass, surely bruising the skin and leaving you sore tomorrow.

"Ah! Anakin," You cry, the feeling of his tongue lapping at your own and swapping spit until there's pools of it around your teeth sending a pulse of electricity straight to your core that makes it throb. Anakin feels your cunt convulse, only pushing his tongue further into your mouth. He's a presence; every part of his body is touching every part of your body. He's all-consuming, he's an enigma, he's yours.

Anakin fucks you harder and faster than ever before. All of his strength training must have done wonders because you can't fathom how he's able to generate that much power this fast, but his hips ram into you while his gloved hand releases your ass to pinch at your clit. He abuses the sensitive bud, pinching and rolling it between his fingers to coax more convulsions out of your sticky cunt.

It works.

The pressure that Anakin presses around your clit lights a live wire of hot, heavy arousal that trails up your spine, heat flowing from where Anakin is still latched onto your shoulder right down to your throbbing core. All of a sudden it's too much, everything is too much, and you feel your orgasm hit you like a speeder, knocking the breath out of your lungs as white hot pleasure burns at your cunt. It's a sensation that splatters firework-worthy bliss from your head to your toes, and your thighs tremble as Anakin fucks you through what might be the most intense, violent orgasm of your life.

"Anakin!" You scream.

Everything he does is rough, from the way his teeth nip at your lips, to the way he's trying to suck your tongue down his throat, to the way his fingers bully your puffy clit, to the way the head of his cock pounds into you with enough force to bruise. It's rough, it's messy, it's aggressive, and it's wonderful. You've never felt such pure jealousy radiating off of Anakin before, and you think it's because you've never been able to indulge him so soon after his jealousy blooms. If he's wary of someone in the temple you have to wait until nightfall to fuck, and if the incident occurs any time before dinner he's more mellow when he finally has you. But now it's fresh, now the brand of raging jealousy is still sizzling against his brain, and he's pumping all of the residual heat straight into you.

"Kriff," He grunts, nearly biting the tip of your tongue as he tries latching onto your lower lip, "Cum. Fuck yeah, angel- angel cum for me, cum- aagh! Cum on my dick," He demands, and you couldn't deny his request if you tried. Your pussy clenches wildly around his cock, convulsing with the force of your orgasm and you claw at his back, regretful that you hadn't stripped off his shirt so that you could scratch up his skin.

All too soon the effects of Anakin's pacing and strength flip a switch, and you're twitching in overstimulation added to your bliss. There's a distinct stinging sensation that's now alongside - and possibly contributing to - your residual ecstasy. The ache is a product of Anakin's sharp thrusts, but his movements are getting sloppy, and all the while he spills obscenities in drool over your tongue.

"You're mine. Gonna fucking cum in you, gonna make you mine, gonna- aah!" He rambles, words and spit alike spilling hastily from his mouth and into your own as he struggles to keep himself steady. He's jackhammering into you so fast that you think he could knock you right through the wall if he tried. You're plastered against it, head thrown back and chest heaving as you try not to collapse under the intense amount of sensation you're receiving.

"Ani," You grip at his biceps, dragging one hand up his left arm and digging your nails into his scalp, "Ani- cum, please cum! Please," You whimper, not sure if you're begging because you need the delicious sensation of his release painting your insides, or because you might pass out if your cunt gets fucked by Anakin's stupidly big cock much more than it has been already, "Please cum!"

"You want me to cum?" He asks, a dreadful rasp to his voice as he ravages your mouth. He bites at your tongue, latches on with his teeth like a wild animal and digs them into the squirming muscle until your saliva runs hot, "You want me to cum in you, angel? You want me to fill you up- stuff you 'til you're leaking?"

"Yes," You moan, one hand still clutching his arm while the other tugs at the base of his curls, "Yes, fuck Anakin, please, I need you to give me your cum! I need your cum, please!"

"You need my cum," He revels, a growl lacing the edge of his voice that sends perpetual shivers down your spine, "You fucking need me. Wish that creep could see you now. Fucked stupid, begging for my cum. Beg for it again, baby. Beg for my cum."

"I need it!" You cry, desperate as you yank tighter at his hair, "Anakin, please, I need it!"

All of a sudden he's no longer invading your mouth, his own latching tightly to your shoulder as he sinks his teeth into you.

"Take it," He grunts gruffly against your skin as he latches onto it, dick finally twitching before spurting hot, thick globs of cum into your spent cunt. Nothing is more gratifying than the feeling of Anakin biting at your shoulder while his hips fuck his cum relentlessly into you, and you're sure you'll be sore all over tomorrow morning. He's letting out the filthiest, most obscene string of grunts against your shoulder as his teeth barely avoid breaking your skin, and though your limbs shake with overstimulation your body doesn't move because it's in his strong grip.

The feeling of him cumming inside of you is like a second orgasm of your own. It's not really a release for you, you haven't cum twice, but Anakin's warm cum flooding your core and squelching as he jerks his hips through his climax feels almost as satisfying as if you were the one cumming. His grunts and growls slowly fade as he comes down from his monumental orgasm, and when he unlocks his jaw from around your shoulder, he leaves behind a ring of teeth marks and a sheen of drool on your skin.

"Kriff," He pants, chest heaving and dick softening as he slumps against you. You're not ready for his added weight, but the little strength he has left is used to hold you upright, so you don't flatten beneath his frame.

"Are you okay?" He hums, lips moving lazily against your neck. They're still wet with spit, and you feel the stuff cooling on your skin.

"I'm okay," You decide, "But- but I don't think I can walk, Ani."

You feel him smile, hear him huff out a laugh even though his eyes are drooping, "I'm sorry. I- It's like I couldn't control myself," He admits, breath fanning warm and wet against your neck, "Not after seeing him grab you."

"I know," You stroke a gentle hand through his sweaty curls, happy to be close to him now that your veins aren't pumping lust through your entire system.

"If Obi-Wan asks," Anakin straightens up, his limbs surprisingly strong for how aggressively he'd fucked you, "You got shoved around by a nasty patron, okay? We'll say they caught you by surprise when you were trying to talk to the bartender."

"Okay." You nod, letting him do all of the work in retrieving your belts from the ground and securing yours around your waist. He hooks his own tightly, his saber thankfully unharmed from being dropped.

"Come here," He holds his arms out, but you barely move to help him scoop you up. He does the lifting on his own, letting you sling your spent arms around his neck and laze your head against his shoulder.

Anakin makes it out of the alleyway, but when he should turn left towards your speeder, he veers right.

"Anakin," You frown, lifting your head wearily to see him approaching the bar again, "Anakin, our speeder's the other way."

"I want you to talk to him," His voice is firm, not much of its honey-sweetness left that had been there after you'd fucked in the dingy alleyway, "I want you to stand there, while I hold you up, and I want you to inform him he'll be questioned by the Jedi Council about what he saw. I want you to lie to him while my cum drips down your legs, angel." He murmurs, his words impossibly filthy even for the setting you're in, "Can you do that?"

"He won't be examined by the Council," Your hazy brain struggles to keep up, "What do you mean?"

"Lie to him." Anakin repeats, eyes slightly darker than they usually are, "Make him afraid while your pussy leaks my cum."

"Okay," You nod willingly, letting Anakin brace your feet on the ground with one of your arms slung over his shoulder to lead you into the bar. Your legs are shaky, you look a mess, but you could be perceived as someone coming away from a nasty fight, so you hold your head high and try to control your thoughts.

"There," Anakin murmurs, spotting the old man where he's already watching you from the corner, "Do it, angel."

Anakin leads you over, stopping short in front of the man's table so that he can't touch you again. He looks pleased at your return, albeit confused as to why you're a mess.

"The Jedi Council wants to speak with you," You recite obediently as the man's eyes widen slightly in apprehension. You can already feel the slow trickle of Anakin's thick cum leaking down your thighs now that you're upright, and it almost distracts you from what you're saying. "They want to know your role in the fight, and what you observed if that's truly all you did. They suspect that you might be working against the Republic, and-"

"I'm not talking to the Jedi Council," The man's face curls into a sneer and his voice is gruff, but not pleasantly so, like Anakin's. He stands from his seat rather uncoordinatedly and bolts for the door, surely expecting you to chase after him. But you don't, you couldn't if you tried, and Anakin gathers you back into his arms.

"Good." He hums, resisting the urge to kiss your forehead for fear of outing your relations, 'You did good, angel. I'm proud of you."

"We'll have to sneak into the temple without interception," You plan as your head rests once more on Anakin's shoulder. He navigates the crowded bar perfectly with you in his arms, and this time he turns towards your speeder like he's supposed to. "Obi-Wan will be waiting for us, but you can tell him to gather the Council, that way we'll have time to clean up."

"Oh, no." Anakin's chuckle is dark as he lowers you into the seat of your speeder. He kisses at your forehead, strokes away a bead of sweat at your hairline, "No, angel. You'll speak to the Council the same way you spoke to that lowlife. With my cum dripping down your thighs."

feedback is greatly appreciated! comment, reblog, talk in the tags, send me a message, tell me what you think!

[waywardxrhea]

Jealousy: a Bucky Barnes one-shot

pairing: Bucky Barnes x fem!reader (no use of y/n)

word count: 3k

You are working with Bucky, Sam, and Zemo to get intel on the Power Broker when the night takes an unexpected turn...

content warnings: minors DNI (18+) - smut (semi-public, oral - male receiving, fingering), PWP, jealousy, groping, drinking, language, name calling (slut - not by Bucky), some violence.

“You can come out now,” Helmut Zemo called to you through the bathroom door of his private jet you were currently holed up in after getting ready for an evening of espionage. 

“I feel weird…” you muttered, looking at yourself in the mirror. 

Sam, Bucky, Zemo, and you were getting ready for an intel gathering mission and this time it was your turn to gather intel. Why that meant you had to have your tits nearly falling out of the dress Zemo picked out, you didn’t know, but you were so close to getting the break you needed you would do nearly anything to get answers.

“Everyone feels weird at these things. The dresses are uncomfortable but when you’re somewhere looking at art you need to look like art yourself,” he told you. 

“Fine,” you sighed, giving yourself one more once over as the plane started to descend. 

On anyone else you would have said the dress was gorgeous. It flowed like a river when you walked, it was sparkly enough to be seen from space, and the combination of the low cut neckline and the slit in the leg was enough to make the devil himself blush. It just wasn’t you. Ever since you became an agent for SHIELD, the CIA, and now freelancing with this band of misfits, you’d grown accustomed to wearing pants and tactical gear and in your downtime it was leggings and chunky sweaters. Nothing even the slightest bit revealing.

So when you exited the bathroom you couldn’t help the blush that creeped up your neck as Sam gave a low whistle from where he stood in his steel blue pressed tux, saying, “Man you’re looking good!”

“Can it,” you told him, rolling your eyes and shoving your hands into the pockets of the dress. That part at least Zemo took your advice on when designing the dress which you guessed you were grateful for…

“I told you you’d look beautiful,” Zemo said. “A thank you would be nice.”

“Thank you,” you told him with a sarcastic smile, turning away and rolling your eyes. 

As you turned away, Bucky emerged into the main area of the plane, adjusting his tie and giving you a once over. “I think you’ve made him speechless,” Sam said teasingly, nudging Bucky in the ribs after he didn’t say anything for a few seconds. 

Sam had always teased the two of you because he knew you liked Bucky but you’d just never made a move. He’s got bigger things to worry about than me, you’d always told yourself. Besides, he’s on those dating apps and all, so that’s proof he isn’t interested, not in you... 

“No time for puppy eyes, we’re here,” Zemo said as the plane touched down. “Does everyone remember the plan?”

“Yes,” you replied. “I go in first and blend in for a while. Admire the art, catch the attention of the target, chat him up for a bit. Once I get what we need on the Power Broker I’ll excuse myself to the restroom and we make a break for it.”

“Correct,” he told you with a nod. 

“The three of us will go in separately and pretend to look at the art while making sure things don’t go sideways,” Sam added. 

“Right again. What is the code word for if you become compromised?”

“Champagne,” you told him instantly. Now this was the stuff you were built for.

“Are we ready?” Zemo asked as the group approached the door to the jet.

“As I’ll ever be,” you said, making your way to the door and carefully picking your way down the steps to head into the party. 

“Don’t strut or anything,” Sam told you teasingly as he watched you feign confidence on your way in. 

“Shut up, I don’t strut,” you snapped. 

“You do tend to strut when you’re in heels,” Zemo said. 

“Okay let’s not focus on my walk you guys!” you said before approaching the door to the art show. 

“Here, let me get that for you ma’am,” a suited man said, opening the door for you with a smile and a wink. 

You gave him a smug raise of your eyebrows in return as you walked through the door, narrowly missing the hand that was outstretched, no doubt trying to cop a feel. “I feel gross…” you mumbled as you walked further in, grabbing a glass of champagne from a tray nearby. 

While looking around, something caught your eye so you made your way to an art piece that you had only ever seen in textbooks. It was beautiful… A man slid up next to you to admire the piece as well, and casually asked, “You like it? It’s one of a kind.”

“It’s wonderful, I didn’t know this piece was even on the market!” you said, wonder in your eyes over the art in front of you.

“Maybe it could be yours if you give me something in exchange,” the man said suggestively, making you throw up a little in your mouth. 

You turned to see who the man was and saw that it was the target. Like some miracle he had walked up to you, but you weren’t about to take it for granted. So as much as it pained you to do it, you reached over to his arm and brushed your fingers over it and asked in your most innocently seductive voice, “And what may that be?”

“All right we’re all in, if this guy goes too far, say something and we’ll come get you,” Sam told you through the earpiece as he casually made his way over to the nearby bar. 

While he said this, you and the man made your way over to the VIP area where you two sat down on a couch and were served drinks of your choice. He glanced down at your breasts quickly before asking, “So what’s your name darlin? I don’t think I’ve seen you around before.”

You giggled and put on the charm as you walked two fingers up his chest, telling him, “You’d like to know, wouldn’t you?”

“That I would,” he replied, placing a hand on the bare portion of your thigh. He snaked his other arm around your back and rested his hand on your ass, pulling you close. “A pretty little thing like you shouldn’t have to attend these events alone.”

“Play your cards right and I could be your plus one from now on…” you told him, the corners of your lips turning up in a small smile. 

The next half hour felt like forever as you pushed for more drinks for your pleasant company and innocently sweet talked your way into the answers you needed. When you felt like you had enough intel to make our next move, you sweetly told him, “I’m so sorry, but you’ll have to excuse me, I need to go to the girls’ room. These drinks went right through me!”

“I’ll be here when you get back sweetheart,” he told you with a smile as you got up, grabbing your ass once more when you stood. 

As you turned the corner to make it seem convincing that you were actually looking for the restroom, you suddenly felt a hand grab your wrist and pull you toward them. You just about took them out before realizing that it was just Bucky. “What the hell, Buck?” you asked, taken aback. 

He put his finger to his ear, turning off his coms before whispering sharply, “Why’d you let him touch you like that?”

“W-what?” you asked, your eyebrows furrowing. 

“We’re getting out of here, you two need to get out before we’re compromised,” Zemo told you over the coms. 

“Be there in a minute,” you told him before turning your own off, following Bucky’s actions. Getting back to his question, you said, “I did what I had to do to get answers. Why do you care?”

“Because no one should be touching you like that,” he replied, looking deep into your eyes. 

You laughed a bit before asking sarcastically, “Oh yeah because it should be you right?”

What happened next shocked you to the core. Because Bucky, the man who had stolen your heart, said, “Yes,” before crashing his lips down onto yours, pinning you against the wall hard. A million thoughts ran through your mind and your head spun as you tried to process what was happening all while sinking into his soft lips. 

“Bucky…” you whispered between kisses as he held you close. Never breaking the makeout session, he felt around for any door handle he could find before pulling you into whatever room it revealed. 

Once the pair of you were in the room, he hiked you up onto the counter before resting his forehead on yours, saying, “It killed me seeing that bastard touching you like that. I wanted it to be me.”

With your senses finally kicked in after the shock of the kiss, you shook your head and whispered, “You don’t mean that. You’re just saying that because of how I look right now. If we were back at the hotel and I was in my leggings and sweater you’d just look the other way…”

“No,” he said as he looked deep into your eyes, pulling away and taking your hand in his. “This is something that’s been on my mind for a while, but I never had the courage to say it until now. I thought I could push away my feelings in order to not compromise our friendship and partnership but… I wanted to kill that guy for touching you like that.”

You opened your mouth to say something in response, but nothing came out. Instead you wrapped your arms around his neck and pulled him into another kiss. When you got back to it, your hands wandered each other's bodies desperately, Bucky’s metal hand slipping under your dress to cup your breast and mess with your sensitive nipple. You gasped at the cool touch and he took that as an opportunity to slip his tongue into your mouth, deepening the kiss. 

As you ran one hand through his hair, he slowly slid his right hand down to your thighs, not moving any further than there without permission. Not even caring how dirty it made you feel to do so, at the touch you spread your legs for him and pulled away for a moment to whisper, “Please touch me…”

“As you wish,” he whispered, taking no time at all to begin toying with your swollen clit. He nipped at your earlobe before mumbling, “God you’re so wet.”

“That’s because you drive me crazy,” you admitted. “You have no idea how long I’ve wanted this…”

“Oh yeah?” he asked while gently pushing two fingers in and feeling around for that special spot inside. 

“Oh God yes,” you whimpered, your head rolling back as he found what he was looking for. No one had touched you like this in so long and it just felt so good and so…right with it being him. 

He added his thumb to the mix, rubbing your clit while his fingers worked their magic and you had to bite your knuckle to keep from screaming, it felt so good. Seeing your reaction, Bucky smirked and started kissing your neck, telling you between kisses, “I guess we shoulda talked about it because I’ve been dreaming of this for a while. First chance I get after tonight, I’m fuckin’ you into oblivion, doll.”

Those words were all it took to bring you impossibly closer to the edge. The idea of Bucky doing unspeakable things to you made everything that much better and you could feel yourself shaking as you approached your high. “Bucky…” you whispered shakily. 

Bucky stood there just admiring you as he picked up the pace of his fingers inside your sensitive cunt. He gave you a sideways smile before whispering, “God, just look at you. You’re so beautiful. Those little gasps and whimpers all for me? That’s enough to make me wanna go all night,” he said, making you even weaker in the knees. Your head rolled back and your breathing started to become uneven as he worked his magic inside, the pace somehow getting more vigorous the closer he brought you to release. The smirk was audible in his voice as he added, “Come on doll, I can tell you’re close, just cum for me.” 

And just like that with a few more strokes of his fingers you were experiencing the most intense orgasm you had in years. “Oh my God, fuck…” you moaned before he captured your lips on his own once more while you rode it out on his fingers which continued to pump in and out lazily as you clenched around them. 

“I think I can get used to that sound,” he told you with a smile once he pulled back from your kiss. 

You couldn’t help the school-girl-like giggle that escaped your lips before you got serious again, kissing him after jumping off the countertop. You spun the two of you around and pinned him to the counter this time, your fingers trailing their way down to his belt and messing with the buckle waiting for permission. “You don’t gotta do anything for me right now, the others are waiting. I’m sure they’re getting worried,” he told you.

“I think for once you need to put yourself before others,” you whispered, ghosting your fingers over the prominent tent in his slacks. 

He chuckled before giving in, saying, “Make it quick.”

“Oh trust me I can do that,” you told him with a wink before undoing his belt buckle and letting his slacks fall to his ankles. You toyed with the waistband of his underwear for a moment before pulling them down as you sank onto your knees in front of him. 

As you kissed the swollen tip of his penis he sucked in air through his teeth, telling you, “Don’t be a tease.” You giggled and ran one finger on the underside of his cock, the vein pulsing beneath your touch, and that had him like putty in your hands and asking, “Please?”

With that final almost whimper of a please from the man standing above you, you took his impressive length in your mouth. You got as far back as you could before beginning to bob your head, his right hand gently resting in your hair to guide you while his left had a death grip on the counter behind him. 

When you hollowed out your cheeks, Bucky’s knees almost buckled and he tightened his grip on your hair. At this you pulled back and teased his head with your tongue before going back in. The way his breath hitched in his throat and the way he started moving his hips showed he was losing the restraint he had on himself meaning that he was close, so you used your hand to work what you couldn’t with your mouth and that’s exactly when he lost it. 

He had never felt anything like the feeling he was experiencing right now as he gently thrust his hips forward, relishing in the feeling of pure pleasure he was getting from your mouth. “Fuckin’ hell!” he groaned as he came to his high, his warm release filling your mouth while his grip on the counter tightened, his metal hand breaking the marble in the process. 

Coming back up to eye level with him after he finished, you smirked before telling him, “Quiet down Sergeant, you don’t want anyone to catch us, do you?”

“Oh next time you’ll be regretting that, doll,” he growled playfully before pulling his clothes back up while you fixed your makeup with what you brought in your pockets. As you fixed your hair too, he looked at you in the mirror and said, “Really though, that was nice. Something I’ve been wanting for a while.”

“Me too,” you replied, kissing him tenderly once you looked presentable again. 

After you and Bucky got yourselves calmed down from all the excitement you headed back out to the party so you could go back to the jet. As Bucky adjusted his belt while the pair of you exited the room, you noticed the man from earlier was standing down the hall talking with someone. He seemed to notice Bucky adjusting his belt and that goofy smile on his face so he rolled his eyes and shoved past you, muttering, “Slut.” 

“What did you just call her?” Bucky asked, sudden white hot rage filling his whole body. 

“I called her what she is, a slut!” the man spat loudly.

 And that was all it took for Bucky to wind back and punch the man in the face, taking care to use his metal arm to do so. Once the man was on the ground, Bucky took the man’s collar in his hand, yanking him up and growling, “Don’t you ever talk about a woman like that again. Got it?” 

“Got it!” the man whimpered as Bucky threw him back down on the ground. 

With that settled, you two left the party and got back to the jet, walking hand in hand. Sam took one look at you and told Zemo, “You owe me twenty bucks.”

“We don’t know that!” Zemo retorted defensively. 

“Oh don’t we now?” Sam asked with a laugh. He turned his attention to the pair of you and asked, “Did you or did you not go MIA so you could have sex?”

“I- What- We-” you tried to say, stumbling over your words as your face heated up. 

Bucky rolled his eyes and chuckled before saying, “Whichever one bet that we had sex lost.”

“I told you!” Zemo shouted victoriously. 

“But did you at least do something?” Sam asked, fishing in his wallet for a twenty. 

“That’s for us to know and you to not find out,” Bucky replied, kissing your knuckles before leading you to a seat on the plane where you could rest your feet for the flight. As you sat down and relaxed into Bucky’s strong embrace, you had a feeling that tonight was the first of many pleasurable nights to come. 

a/n: so this is my first one shot on tumblr! I wrote this one night when I just couldn't get Bucky out of my head, I hope y'all enjoy!

and if you don't follow me or know my account, feel free to check out my Steve Rogers long fic here!