#you’d be distressed too

[that-one-fandom-girl]

For real! Besides, didn’t the sand that shows people their worst nightmares fly over him before he said that? He was affected by the sand and I think it tells a little bit more about their friendship and how close they are if right after the nightmare-inducing stuff falls on him, Adrien fears for Plagg in addition to fearing for his freedom. Plagg didn’t even have to be mentioned, but Adrien was in full distress and turned to his best friend, only to be scared some more when his best friend, who was supposed to be sleeping, (right?), seemed to have something bad happen to him.

People give Adrien too much flack for believing plagg turned into a sock. Be real, if you lived in hawkmoth's Paris that's what you would think happened. You wouldn't immediately think your best friend ran away and left a sock puppet in thier place.

[spencer-is-dead]

still can’t believe they won’t let you have stuffed animals in mental hospitals

[readwritealldayallnight]

“-other than that, wasn’t so bad.” Simon says, readjusting the material of the balaclava across the bridge of his nose with his free hand. His other hand is busy, keeping yours warm as you lead him down sidewalk after sidewalk.

The two of you have just finished having Sunday morning brunch at a local cafe, something you insisted was becoming ‘tradition’ after the second time it happened. And according to you, after finishing eating, (Simon never wanting to hear a word about you paying for a thing) the next part of this lazy morning routine calls for strolling about at a pace that he would normally find pointless, if not downright frustrating. But for you, he slows down.

“Butcher’s an interesting first job.” You reply, nodding along in thought. You picture a younger Simon, fresh out of school, probably fresh faced as well. He was likely as tall, though not yet as muscular as the military would make him. A meat clever in hand, bloody apron around his waist, he was likely still inadvertently intimidating people back then the way he does now. “I was mostly just taking babysitting jobs until I graduated. Liked it well enough.”

“I actually had to babysit a neighbour one time, when I was younger. Actual baby at tha’ too.” He tells you with a chuckle, slightly shaking his head at the memory.

“What?” You laugh as well, the image in your mind now swapping out the meat clever in a teenaged Simon’s grip for a drooling infant. “How did that work out?”

“Neighbour comes bangin’ on our door, she’s carryin’ the thing, it’s screamin’ its bloody little head off,” You roll your eyes at the way Simon refers to the child, swatting his arm playfully but listening on. “She tells me her husband thinks he’s havin’ a fuckin’ heart attack. None o’ the other neighbours are home or answerin’ the door. ‘Fore I know it, she’s passin’ me the kid, askin’ if mum can watch her while she drives him to the hospital. Next thing I know she’s gone and I’m left with the thing.”

“Oh my gosh! Well where was your mum?” You ask, in disbelief that you’ve never heard this story from him before, half wondering if he’s pulling your leg.

“She wasn’t home, I can tell you that! Only me and the new lil’ orphan were.” He utters, strengthening his grip on your hand as you start to hunch over with laughter.

“Okay so wait, you were home alone? Oh no! How long did you have to ‘babysit’ for?” You giggle.

“Well technically Tommy was there but he would’ve only been a hindrance, told him to stay in his room.” Simon adds, pulling his hand out of yours, only to wrap it around your shoulder, now that you’ve come to a standstill at a crosswalk, waiting for the light to change. “Fuckin’ nearly 4 hours went by before mum came home and took over. Longest hours o’ my life. I think that might’ve been the day I enlisted actually.”

You elbow his side as you continue to laugh, seeing that he’s teasing you at the end now. You open your mouth to tease him right back, but your eye catches sight of the shop you’ve been standing in front of, jaw dropping wider.

“Simon!” You’re pulling him with a strength he would otherwise be impressed by if he wasn’t so suddenly caught off guard, senses kicking into high alert now as his head swivels in search of the cause of your distress. “How have we never seen this before??”

Oh.

He should’ve known better.

He actually had been avoiding taking you down this street for a little while now, but had been too caught up in his story telling to notice the direction you’d taken in him. His subtle effort of wrapping his arm around you to tilt you away from the storefront obviously hadn’t worked out. He opens his mouth to answer, but can only sigh when you’re already making your way towards the entrance of the pet store.

“We’re only lookin’, right?” He asks loud enough for you to hear as he follows you in.

Wrong.

[chastiefoul]

love and deepspace men when you (playfully) reject their kiss ft. zayne, xavier, rafayel

fluff, fluff, FLUFF

zayne

his kiss landed on the outer corner of your lips instead as you turned away at the very last second as he leaned in

he just stared at you for a solid five seconds.

“was this because i left you on read this afternoon?” his voice was soft, uncertainty danced across his feature. you just shrugged, turning away from him to hide the smile you’ve been trying really hard to suppress.

he grabbed a hold of your waist first, keeping you in place. he saw the shameless smile on your face, couldn’t help but let out a little chuckle of his own. “should’ve known.”

you laughed, “but you did left me on read, how dare you?” his thumb moved up and down on your side as he made no change on his expression, like doing a gesture he didn’t even realize doing it. “alright then, i apologize for not replying within twenty minutes, since i did give you a call as soon as i was available.”

you put your hands on either side of his cheeks, he leaned into the touch. of course, it didn’t bothered you one bit when he didn’t reply right away since you knew very well how demanding his job was.

you planted a sweet kiss on his lips, you could feel his little smile as you pulled away. “good work today, zayne.”

“hm, then surely you would indulge me more of that for a moment longer?”

xavier

he’s quiet for a moment; he did kiss you, but he didn’t know why you’d turn your head on the last second like that as he kissed you on the cheek instead.

he casted his gaze downwards, looking like a rejected kitten in a pouring rain searching for its owner.

your heart squeezed at the adorable act, lifting his chin with your palm. he tilted his head questioningly, the words was obvious on his face. did i do something wrong today? were you mad?

xavier stared at you as he recalled today’s events, but he reached his wits end pretty fast since he still had no idea why you’d reject his kiss.

you then giggled at his clueless expression, and xavier immediately understood that you’re being playful. he let out a little sigh of relief, embracing you. his neck deep at the crook of your neck, his soft hair tickling you in the best way possible.

“you’re too playful at times,” he mumbled, he looked like he had all the peace in the world. “sorry, will you forgive me?” you ran your fingers through the back of his head. “i’ll forgive  you if you promise not to reject my kiss ever again,” he said.

you laughed, “okay then, if you insist.”

rafayel

oh. he looked so offended beyond belief. you’d think someone had insulted his painting; a product from his passion and effort. but to think it’s just a face he made because you didn’t want him to kiss you.

“i see what this is,” he started, the dramatic side of him just wouldn’t let this slide. you challenged, “yeah? what is it?”

“you tell me. this is just the beginning isn’t it. first you reject my kiss, next thing i know you’d be packing your bags, telling me you’ve fallen out of love.” he crossed his arms in front of his chest, his pout was the most exaggerated as it’s ever been.

you had to hold your laugh so hard, you covered your mouth with your fist. “it was just a kiss rafayel, i wasn’t feeling it.” you replied, trying your best to sound serious.

“wasn’t feeling it?” he gasped, like you just insulted his whole entire bloodline. he put up a palm in front of your face, like refraining you to say more controversial things. he took a deep breath to calm himself, “it’s fine, it’s not like i was eager to kiss you either.” he mumbled like he was talking to himself, although it’s obvious he’s being a little loud on purpose. also, lies. he practically bounced on air when he approached you.

finally a laugh escaped you, rafayel looked at you and he just fumed. “just so you know i expect you to make up for all the emotional distress i just went through.” you laughed a little more as you grabbed a hold of his face. “i would kiss you many times to make it up but i think someone just said he wasn’t really that eager to kiss me?” you raised an eyebrow.

his eyes lit up for a moment at the mention of a kiss, and next second he looked around frantically to make an excuse. “it’s okay i understand, fighting that many wanderers who make a lot of strange screeching noises? it’d disturb your hearing a little. i said i was eager to kiss you.” he smiled, nodding to himself. you laughed once more at his ridiculousness.

“sure, let’s go with that excuse.” you kissed him and when you pulled away he held your head, giving you multiple kisses before he let you go with a grin.

[seouljazzbar]

GO WITH IT

MARK LEE (이민형)

ABOUT 𓂃 ࣪˖ “have sex with me so I can finish writing this” inspired by this tweet or when mark offers to solve all your problems, it's much better to go with it

WARNING 𓂃 ࣪˖ language, mark is a bit of a slut, 18+ spiderman kiss (you’ll see lmao), allusions to fat cock mark… 😵‍💫, overstimulation, unprotected sex, mark’s name repeated like 78 times (no seriously, it’s up there), reader bent like a pretzel, orgasm denial, this author loves a comma, a pinch of softdom!mark, silly ending

PAIRING 𓂃 ࣪˖ bestfriend!mark x bestfriend!reader

WORD COUNT 𓂃 ࣪˖ 6k

AUTHOR'S NOTE 𓂃 ࣪˖ a little surprise drop for my favorite neo! i guess it's also a wee bit of a belated birthday gift to him :) i skimmed it for typos and stuff but i unfortunately did not edit it the way i should have, sorrryyyyy hope y'all enjoy! omg also reader's room is yu nabi's from the kdrama nevertheless hehehe

Nobody was busier than your best friend, Mark Lee. Between his job, his vibrant social life, and his weekly family dinners, you were lucky to be offered a slot in his schedule. It was always a yes to Mark Lee. Usually.

The last three times Mark had tried to make plans with you were all failed attempts, and the excuses varied each time. There was nothing shameful about the truth, but you just couldn’t bring yourself to tell him that your friendship was being thrown to the backburner while you sloppily attempted to get your life together. He knew all about your small business, taking commissions for art prints and ceramics, but he had no idea how much time and effort went into each piece. Besides, knowing Mark he would offer to help, and that wasn’t going to be of service to you in the slightest. 

All you could do was rot in bed, hoping that something would spark your creative mind to no avail. Frustration was starting to take up every corner of your mind— from the nonstop orders that you couldn’t fulfill, to your supplier raising prices, to the fact that you hadn’t had a good date in two years. You were wound too tight to function, and any minute now you were going to start pulling your hair out in chunks.

The sound of the pin-pad at your door let you know that Mark was about to come barreling through. There were so many times that you’d be in strict creation mode, headphones in at full blast while Mark banged at the door pleading for you to answer; when it started to feel like a normal part of your routine, he just requested the code to let himself in. “Yo!”

Except, this time, none of that was necessary. Your headphones were stuffed in their case on the other side of the room, workstation completely untouched with your multiple projects stacked on top of each other. Despite the custom orders piling up over the last two weeks, you hadn’t had the artistic strength to move forward with any of them. The only thing you could do to  buy yourself a little time was to post a message asking for patience and understanding while you navigate some vague emotional hardship. Realistically, though, it would only buy you another week or so before people would start to get angry. 

“Hi.” Perched on a stool near the kitchen island, eyes locked on the cup of coffee you warmed up seventeen minutes ago, you were out of it.

Mark waved a few inches from your face, trying to get your full attention. “Hello? Earth to ___, are you okay?”

You snapped out of it, looking over at your best friend to see that he was dressed for a night on the town. “Sorry, got a lot on my mind right now.”

White, distressed tank top, loose plaid button-up undone, and his sexiest pair of black jeans. The way the meticulous curls fell around his face, looping around his forehead in a way that feigned boylike wonder. He looked oh so delicious, but you would never tell him that— his ego was big enough for the both of you. “Anything I could help with?”

A stifled chuckle barely reached his ears before you cleared your throat, turning toward him with renewed energy. “No, not really.”

Mark put his phone and keys down on the counter, taking a quick intermission to wash his hands before walking back over to you. He’d never been in your apartment in this way before— an unannounced hangout where you’re clearly just a stop along the way, being so underdressed in his presence. He’d seen you in a swimsuit before, but something about a big shirt and underwear felt far more intimate than the two strips of fabric. “This is like the third time you’ve curved me, if you hate me just say that.”

“Oh, you’re so fucking dramatic. I’m just busy.” You shoved at his shoulder, urging him to take a seat so you wouldn’t feel so awkward with him standing over you. He refused cooly, taking a look around your apartment to make sure you hadn’t been aimlessly rotting since the last time he stopped by.

“Even I'm not that busy. What’s going on?”

“I’ve just…” You sighed heavily, a breath you didn’t even know you were holding in. Talking about everything wrong in your life felt far too heavy, too much to divulge to a friend seemingly just doing a wellness check. “I think I’ve bitten off more than I can chew, and I’ve got all these creative blocks that won’t go away and honestly I just need to be fucked like properly fucked to get my juices flowing again but all of the men worth giving it up to are in hiding.”

Mark stood there, mouth agape in disbelief. He did ask, after all. “Woah.”

“Yeah.” It felt embarrassing to hear laid out like that, but there weren’t too many secrets between you and Mark in the first place. Your sex lives weren’t off limits for discussion, and the two of you had plenty of chats that were NSFW in nature. But blurting out how badly  you needed to be railed? That was a new one.

The silence spoke for itself, apparently. You didn’t want to chance a glance up at him, but you knew that you’d have to say something. Maybe something to cover your ass, let him know that you’re well aware how ‘TMI’ that was. Or even—

“I’ll fuck you.”

You nearly choked on air,“What?!” Now you had no choice but to look at him, scanning the twinkle in his eyes in search of sincerity.

“I’m really good, too.” He took a step towards you, eyes never leaving yours as his hands found home in his shirt pockets. This was a side of Mark you rarely got to see— charming, smooth, confident. There were times, namely on nights out, where you’d get a taste of it, watching him chat it up in some dark corner with the prettiest girl you’d ever laid eyes on. But this, being on the receiving end? Watching his eyes drink you in like sweet tea on a balmy Southern summer afternoon? It was enough to make your heart skip several beats. 

“Mark—”

The smile he cracks at you makes you embarrassed for even considering it. “I’m just messing with you, geez,” Heat takes over your face as you try to hide it from him, palms rubbing at your cheeks as your heartbeat tries to find its resting rate. “Although, given that reaction, maybe I shouldn’t be.”

“Shouldn’t be what?”

“Messing with you. Joking, rather. I can definitely mess with you, if you want,” Running so hot and cold in such a short window of time has you shivering under his gaze, scared to make the wrong move and ruin what you’d beg him for. “Hm? Is that what you want?”

The air is thick with anticipation, nothing but the consistent drip from a ceiling leak as the soundtrack to your staring contest with Mark. He was so close to you in all of his Friday night glory, cologne a cloud around you as the heat from his chest permeated your personal space. You were certain that just one taste, just one night in the throes of passion with a curly haired Mark Lee would solve all of your problems. If you closed your eyes, you could picture it— sweaty bodies intertwined amidst the sweltering heat of your studio after dark, the fanning of his breath in your face as he rocks into you, his strong frame caging you into the bed so all you can focus on is Mark, Mark, Mark! His sighs and whines of pleasure flooding your senses so they’re all you can pay attention to, just his voice and his unrelenting pace as he— “___,” The sound of your name on his tongue snapped you out of your lustful haze. “Offer’s about to expire, baby.”

Mark slipped his jacket off without breaking away from you, dropping it carelessly on the floor while your attention wandered to his arms. He seemed to know exactly what he was doing, crossing his arms against his chest as he awaited your answer. “You’re serious? This isn’t some cruel prank where if I say yes, you’ll tell me it was just a joke?”

“That’s not my idea of a prank, princess, where’s the fun in that?” Mark licked his lips, a faint smirk taking over. “Look, if you’re uncomfortable, we can pretend this never happened,” His fingers ghost along the side of your face, sweetly making their way to your lips. “But if it were up to me? I’d have you seven ways to Sunday all over this apartment.”

That was all you needed to lunge into a kiss with him, throwing him slightly off guard as you practically tossed yourself into his arms. But his lips were ready for you, steaming hot and sopping wet— just the way you like it. The smush of your lips together so suddenly garnered the sweetest moan from him, just enough to tease you of what’s to come. His arms wrapped around your torso like a claw machine, pulling you so flush against him as though he was afraid you’d slip through his fingers. 

Your lips were still tingling as he pulled away to lap kisses against your neck, peppering anywhere his lips could reach. “M-Mark, hmngh.”

It was no secret that Mark had a bit of a reputation in the bedroom, but you never thought you’d witness it firsthand. His hands delved blindly to your legs, hoisting you around his waist so he could move you over to your bed. You almost had a mind to remind him of the three big steps up to your bedroom area, but he was far suaver than you gave him credit for�� this wasn’t exactly his first rodeo.

He tossed you on the bed, the slight recoil exhilarating before he was all over you again. “If a proper fuck is what you want…” His kisses had shifted to your chest, lips and tongue sucking in the essence of your skin like he couldn’t bear not to. He was almost more excited than you were, his touch reaching anywhere and everywhere all at once, like he couldn’t get enough of exploring everything you had to offer. It was all starting to feel real as Mark made a move to lift up your shirt and the implication of your best friend seeing you naked caught up with you.

“Wait, wait. We’re gonna see each other naked.”

Mark, with the fabric of your shirt caught in his teeth, stared at you blankly. “Yeah…” 

“Shouldn’t that be weird?”

He rolled his eyes playfully, squeezing at your hip with the hand closest to it. “Maybe, but how do you suggest we fuck then? Through my jeans?” He pulled your body swiftly down the mattress so you could feel how hard he was through your panties. 

“Shut the fuck up, oh, my God.”

“I was trying to before you got all weird and jittery,” Mark made a move for your shirt again, and this time you didn’t fight him on it. The balmy air hit your pert nipples the second they were exposed, and Mark couldn’t stop the gruff  noise that formed in his throat. “Just as pretty as I imagined.” You squirmed at the compliment, cheeks heating up at the sight of him drooling over you. “Like that? Hm? Are you my pretty girl?” 

His lips wrapped around the peak of your breast, tongue swirling to the same pattern his thumb and forefinger followed on your other nipple. “Yes!” It was embarrassing, how fast you succumbed to his commands. He struck with confidence, maneuvering his way around your body like he’d done it before. “I’m your pretty girl.”

“So sexy saying that for me, baby,” Your legs part instinctually to make more room for him, and Mark took that as his sign to shift gears. “You know… sometimes, every now and then, I’d think about you. If I needed a little extra push towards ecstasy, you’d pop in my head. Think about the way you’d look if I got my hands on you. How you’d feel, how you’d taste,” His fingers prodded at the growing wet patch on your underwear. “Gonna let me see?”

Your back arched off the mattress, hands pulling him impossibly closer to you. “Mark, please stop asking, just do it.”

“Mm, say ‘please’ again.”

“Mark!”

His laugh would be even sexier if it weren’t at your expense. “Alright, fine.” Your panties stayed on as his tongue lapped at your folds through them, the flimsy cotton doing absolutely nothing to stop him from devouring you. You jerked at the feeling as his tongue licked a bold strip through your folds, your hands entangling themselves in his curly locs. “You’re so wet, holy shit.”

One quick motion moved your panties to the side, puffy wet lips on full display for his greedy eyes. His eyes sparkled at the sight, mouth watering at the mere thought of getting to taste you. “Smell so good, pretty girl.” He was so hungry and you were the only one who could satiate him. His tongue had a mind of its own, pressing flat against your folds without a second thought, “Taste even better.”

Mark’s grip on your thighs held you in place as he licked you clean, running his tongue against every nerve-ending he could feel for. He pulled them apart just enough to spread you out for him, just enough to be on full display for him. Your taste occupied every corner of his mind as he blacked out in pleasure, lapping up every drop your gushing pussy offered up.

He circled your clit until you saw stars, your squirming uncontrollable as his tongue darted inside of you. “You’re so good to me.”

Mark groaned between your thighs, in love with the praise you were showering him with. There was something about how natural and seamless it was for you to compliment him that turned him on even more, if that was possible. “I don't think I'll ever get enough of how you taste, Christ.”

His free hand slithered up your torso, sinking his thumb into your eager mouth while his continued working at your core. He wasn’t shy, either, licking boldly from your ass to your clit while shaking his tongue side to side. Slurping up every drop that dribbled out of your entrance, twisting his tongue as far inside of you as he could reach. You were dripping down his chin by the time he introduced his fingers, prodding at your glistening hole with just one to test the waters. He took the way you gripped onto his hair as his sign that you were more than enjoying it. “F-feels good, oh, God.”

“Mm, don’t be shy.”

Laving at your clit, he drank up the praises the way he was drinking you up. He only pulled away to fully discard your panties, diving back into center with renewed vigor. “Need more.” You didn’t want to push him any closer to you, scared you’d smother him, but he didn’t seem afraid to drown. He’d awoken something desperately greedy inside of you, and you were slipping further into a haze of pleasure with every passing moment. Two fingers pressed their way inside of you, pumping slowly to get you adjusted before the jerk of your hips told him to pick up the pace. You couldn’t hold still with the way he was devouring you, mouth and hands prying you open deliciously all for his enjoyment. He would die between your thighs if you let him, you’re sure of it.

You had to physically pull him off of you to get him to stop, orgasming bubbling inside of you in record time. “Want you inside of me already.” The entirety of the lower half of his face was a sticky mess of your arousal, from his nose to his chin completely covered in you. “Bro, you need to wipe… that.” Times like these, you were glad that you kept tissues on your nightstand.

“You cannot and will not call me ‘bro’ now that I know what you taste like. How insulting.”

It hadn’t dawned on you that Mark was still fully dressed, sans his plaid jacket-shirt that was curled in a sad pile on the floor. “Is that an order?”

He bit at his lip, eyes darkening as he drank in your bare figure sprawled beneath him. Your hands ran themselves up and down his arms, finally getting a chance to admire his body after all the focus was turned to you. Maybe it was the lighting, the way his hair fell over his eyes, or just the fact that he was the best kisser you’d had the pleasure of test driving— but he looked divine. Halo of light circling his head as he fumbled with his belt, biceps flexing as he lifted the tank top off of his lean frame. Suddenly, he wasn’t your friend anymore; he was something new entirely.

You were so lost in your own adoration of him that you hadn’t noticed he was undressed, pulling you directly underneath him as he kissed at your collarbones. “Where’d you go off to, huh?”

“It’s nothing,” you shook your head, snapping back to reality (which was so much better than whatever was going on in your will they-won’t they fantasy). “Thank you, for this.”

Mark didn’t respond with words, instead opting to kiss you softly, tenderly. Slowly, deeply, passionately kissing you as he lowered himself atop of you. He wasn’t in a rush anymore, pulling you into him like you were made of glass, grinding against your center like you had all the time in the world. Everything was so delicate, like he was savoring the moment for years to come. It scared you, if you were being honest. “Mark? You know you can still kiss me while you’re inside of me, yeah?”

He hummed in approval, connecting your mouths again in a slow, languid kiss, tongues slithering into each other's mouths and twisting messily. You could feel him lining up with your entrance, his hand wrapped around his girth to guide himself into you steadily. Chancing a look down, you tried to hide the way your eyes bulged out at the sheer size of him— he would never let you hear the end of it if you fawned over how huge he was. It took all of your willpower to remain still, your body welcomed him as though it had hundreds of times, the shape of him slotting inside of you like he was made to. His fingers tangled in your hair, angling your head so he could travel to your neck, groaning out his praise against your sticky skin. The absence of his lips on yours made you whine, hands wandering the expanse of his back just for confirmation that this was real. “Tell me how it feels.”

You couldn’t. Months of the worst dry spell you’d ever experienced coming to a head with Mark milking you for everything you had couldn’t be described. All you could do was moan, coiling around him even tighter as he started to rock his hips forward as though he was testing the waters. He was the only thing you could focus on— his scent, his taste, they way his nose pressed right against yours, the feeling of his fingers intertwining with yours against the mattress, the dionysian desire his hips were fulfilling. It was all just Mark, Mark, Mark. “Mark!” His teeth couldn’t resist nipping at your lip, pulling on it playfully before letting go to let his tongues soothe the area.

“I can’t help it, you’re so fun to play with.” He kissed you to make up for the quick dot of pain, relishing in the way you immediately kissed him back with just as much enthusiasm.

“I’m, I’m close.”

He spread your legs further apart to give himself more room to buck his hips, pressing at your thighs as he fucked into you faster. “Hold it.”

“Whyyyy?”

“You asked for the Mark Lee experience,” His thrusts grew pointed, almost exaggerated as his hips drove forward with precision, “and I’m gonna give it to you.”

You could feel yourself teetering dangerously close to the edge, stomach coiled tight and lungs working overtime. The mere thought of being denied your orgasm was getting you worked up— you hate not getting your way. Your legs wrapped around Mark’s waist, locking your ankles together for good measure. If he wanted to play games, you were down for it. “Harder.”

But instead of faster, Mark slowed to a complete stop, hands drifting down to your hips to pin them to the mattress. “Oh, baby, do you think I’m stupid?” He chuckled in your face, shaking his head as the laughter subsided. “That’s a sure fire way to get nothing.”

“Wait, no, please! I didn’t mean it.”

The damage had already been done. His patience with you was wearing thin, and he didn’t take kindly to disobedience. “Have you learned your lesson?” Each second that passed stole a piece of your orgasm away with it, that delicious ball of tension and heat simmering down to a cool pit of nothing the longer Mark held your hips down. Your heart stopped fluttering with urgency, slowing to its resting rate as you dealt with the consequences of trying to outsmart your best friend. “Speak up, baby.”

“Yes,” You hissed out, annoyed that your declaration of needing to be fucked was currently going unanswered. Who is he to deny you of the very thing he promised you? “I learned my lesson.”

It was exactly what he wanted to hear, “God, you’re so sexy when you behave yourself.” 

You rolled your eyes, slapping his chest as he pulled away from you entirely. “What happened to ‘having me seven ways to Sunday all over this apartment’?” 

It was Mark’s turn to roll his eyes, fingers running through his hair as he sat back on his heels. “Up against the wall.” You did as he said, spreading your hands against the wall as you felt him behind you, lining himself up with your sodden entrance. The inward arch felt unnatural at first, but you settled into it as you got comfortable in it. “Look up at me.” Mark was towering over you, quite literally. From this angle, all you had to do to see his face was look up and there he was with that devilish smile. His cock pressed into you as you watched him, the sheer thickness splitting you clean open for him, sucking him in like your pussy had been waiting for him. “Fuck, you feel so good.”

Maybe it was the taboo of sleeping with a friend, but your body was on fire. You felt your entire body heating up at the sudden change in his demeanor, switching your flirty best friend to a man absolutely starved. With your eyes screwed shut, you reached a hand out to hold onto his arm, fingers giving it a squeeze, head bumping the bare skin of his chest.

“Fuck.”

You were even wetter than you were while he had you pinned to the mattress, the feeling of being filled by him more electrifying after a brief intermission. He was all over you again and that was all that mattered, walls tightening around him with a vice-like grip that had both of you gasping for air.

“Shit,” he hiss, already lost in the sensation, “so good to me, ___, so fucking good.” He emphasized the last syllable with a gentle thrust that had your nails scratching at the wall. Your orgasm was building back up faster than you would’ve liked it to, considering you knew Mark wouldn’t let you cum so soon after denying you.

It hit you deeply, in all the right places at the right angle. Mark was that good from the start, and you couldn’t believe you’d been missing out on it. If you knew he was this goof, you would’ve ruined the friendship ages ago. “So fucking deep, Mark, keep going like that,” you moaned, just as caught up as he was.

He captured your lips in a searing kiss, fucking into you with much more vigor than before, gripping your ass with such force you half expected to see the dents after. You moaned all you had to say, all you had to feel into each other’s mouths. When his velvety tongue enveloped yours you could almost taste the remnants of your arousal and the chocolate muffin he ate right in between sweeping and mopping. The water was still running, hitting part of his back and your leg.

You couldn’t pull away from him even if you tried— he was a part of you now, molded into each other’s bodies until you became one. “Wanna keep fucking you forever,” he groaned, pouring his all into every touch. “Keep you on me forever.”

It threw you for a loop. Keep you forever? Mark was a lot more emotional than he let on, sure, but you couldn’t shake the feeling that he meant it in ways other than platonic. You couldn’t even stop him to ask what he meant by that because he was so deep in your guts that you were starting to feel him in your throat. 

“Don’t stop,” you cried out, biting your lip when he hit a certain spot inside you and kept hitting it over and over again— the taste of blood didn’t stop you. “Don’tstopdon’tsopdon’tstop-”  

“Fuck,” he whisper, voice strained and raspy, smacking at your ass before gripping it and bringing you down to meet his increasingly harsh thrusts, the slap echoing throughout your studio apartment. “Wanna fuck you forever, baby.” One hand kept its vice grip on your hip while the other grasped at your neck, forcing you to maintain eye contact with him. “Gimme a kiss, pretty girl.” Your lips found his despite the blurring of your vision, a supple lock as he steadied rocking into your core. Kissing him upside down felt worlds away from the first kiss you shared with him, and yet you still couldn’t get enough of it. The hand on your hip slithered up to cup your breast, rolling your nipple as he pulled away from the kiss. “So obedient.”

All the shame had disappeared from your body, the satisfaction of finally being fucked numbing you to his quips completely. His name was on the tip of your tongue, begging to be set free, but the way his hips ricocheted off your ass made you short circuit. Your skin was hot to the touch, goosebumps littering the expanse of your body as your toes curled around the fabric of your duvet. 

“Who knew you were such a dirty girl, hm?” Mark tutted. You hold back your moans, reveling in the sensation of his tip sliding up and down you dripping folds. Interrupting his own rhythm just to get a rise out of you, giving you no warning before shoving himself right back in. 

“Bet this was your plan all along,” You ignore the fact that he technically initiated all of this, too blissed out to snap back at him cheekily. “Dripping all over my cock, fuck.” He’s thinking out loud, eyes locked at the way your pussy invites him in, grip unrelenting with each thrust. He drew his hips back again to repeat the same unforgiving tempo, laughing to himself at the way your thighs shake in anticipation.

“Wanted this for so long.” You whine, bashful about the confession rolling off your tongue so easily. Mark had always occupied a special part of your mind, but the barrier of your friendship with him always kept you from thinking of him in that way for too long. He’s hot, sure, and one of the most genuine guys you’d ever met— but risking that by dating him felt too stupid to risk.

Mark didn’t keep you waiting for too long, filling you to the brim with one stroke that had your toes curling. You gasp, a shiver running up your spine as he adopts a frenzied pace that nearly knocks you into the wall in front of you. “You’re so fucking warm.”  He can’t help but moan out at the feeling, clutching onto your hips as he pistons in and out of you. Blunt fingers digging into your skin as you let your body fall forward. You felt so full.

“Mark, fuck.” you whine, probably a tad too loud considering how thin the walls feel at night but you couldn’t help it, with the way he held onto you and fucked you like he had never had good pussy in his life. “Faster.”

“Where’d your manners go? Say ‘please’.” He teased, testing your obedience despite knowing you’d obey him. There was just something about knowing he held your pleasure in the palm of his hands, knowing that you’d do anything he asked of you. 

“Please, please, please Mark, need you so bad.” It sounded  pathetic, and it only makes Markn screw his eyes shut as he fucks you harder. All control lost as he watches the drool drip from your mouth down the wall— he was really fucking your brains out.

Mark's rough groans were slowly morphing  into needy moans, the sound causing even more slick to build up between your legs. “Taking my cock like such a good girl.” And you really were, considering you had nothing but the wall to grip onto, you let your body go wherever Mark led it. Each thrust sending you closer and closer to your climax, his dick hitting every single spot that you’re sure you’d see stars.

“I’m gonna cum, fuck.”

“You’re gonna cum? Mm, you can cum. Cum all over my dick, lemme see that pretty face.” You arched inward one last time for him, looking up at the man sending you to heaven and back on a loop. “There you go. Good fucking girl.” Mark smacked your ass sharply, holding onto your ass as he switched his rhythm to harsh, precise thrusts that were sure to throw you over the edge of pleasure. He kissed your forehead as the growing tension in the pit of your stomach snapped, your walls contracting around him in a tight frenzy that nearly triggered his own. He didn’t slow down, though. The clutching of pussy did absolutely nothing to deter him from fucking you with the same rigor, hips just as quick as they were before he finally let you cum.

“M-Mark, I don’...” The aftershocks of ecstasy silenced you in your tracks, the sparks of pleasure like electricity through your bloodstream. “Don’t stop.”

He laughed at the change of your tune, thumb flitting down to flick at your clit. “Baby needs more? Haven’t had enough yet?”

Even with him poking fun at your desperation, you were too drunk on his cock to care. All you could manage was a chorus of fuck me, fuck me, fuck me as Mark held you flush against him. “God, yes, fill me up like that.” Your arousal was dripping all over the inside of your thighs, the sticky slick glistening under the moonlight that peaked through your curtains. 

“That’s right, I’m not fucking done with you yet, pretty girl.” This side of him was lethal. He was insatiable, obsessed with the way your body responded to him, greedy for the way you bent to his every whim. It was such a change of pace from the way he was kissing you in missionary, the way he treated you like a doll that he was afraid of hurting you. “Feel good?”

He was mocking you— of course, it was good. You didn’t have to tell him that for him to know; but feeding his ego was so addictive. The way he’d reward you for praising him was enough for you to fall for the trap every single time. “So, good, Mark, hngh.”

The smack of his hips against your ass bounced off the walls, echoing the depravity that you and Mark were oh so good at acting on. All of your senses on overdrive, the overstimulation pulling at you from every end, you weren’t sure if you could take it all for much longer. Drool slipped from your mouth onto Mark’s arm, the edges of your vision blurring as you could feel yourself bubbling over. “Gonna cum again?”

“‘m gonna cum again.”

He was drunk with the power of controlling you. “Hold it.”

“Mark, I can’t.” You were surprised you were even able to do it the first two times he commanded it, not used to having gratification delayed against your wishes.

“Gonna fill you up and then you can cum.” It only took a few more targeted thrusts before he was spilling his seed into you, an endless leak of evidence of what took place over the last hour or so. Even as his cock began to soften, he made sure to fuck you through it, massaging tight circles into your clit until your legs spasmed. The air was snatched from your lungs, eyes flittering shut in sweet relief. It was only two orgasms, but the build up had really taken it out of you. Mark flipped you over gently on your back, brushing the hair out of your face as you sleepily opened your eyes.

“Look at that. Take a look at the mess we made, baby.” 

He gestured between your legs, a slippery canvas of cum smeared across your most intimate parts. “So much…” You couldn’t stop yourself from gathering some on your fingers, popping them into your mouth for a taste of the two of you mixed together.

Your brain was on fire, neurons alight with the molten sensation that was Mark Lee. Even though you took him up on the offer, you weren’t expecting him to completely change your world. A solid orgasm and a pat of the back, maybe. But now you were afraid that he was your new addiction that you’d never be able to feed. 

You woke up in a fresh sleep shirt to the smell of toasted bagels and coffee. Mark balanced the plates and mugs the best he could as he tackled the steps leading up to your bedroom area. “Mornin’ sleepyhead.”

“What time is it?”

He shoved a mug of steaming coffee into your hands, kissing you on the forehead. “Don’t worry about that. You were exhausted, wanted to let you sleep.”

“Thank you.” The coffee was exactly to your liking, just what you needed after a night of fucking like rabbits. “So, should we talk about… it?”

Blush rose to his cheeks and there was no hiding it, his hair pulled back into a messy bun so his face was on full display. “I mean, only if you want to? I’m okay with proceeding however you want to.”

“You’d be fine staying friends? Never talking about it? Pretending that nothing’s changed?”

He shrugged, “if that’s what you wanted, then yeah.” His attention shifted to his breakfast, eyes zeroed in on his eggs and toast like it was a gourmet meal. “Just don’t wanna make you feel weird about it, you know?”

“Mark?” You placed your coffee and plate down on your bedside table, turning your full attention to him as he continued to avoid your gaze. “What did you mean by all the ‘keep you forever’ stuff then?”

He rushed to try to explain himself, scrambling his words into a whole lot of nothing. “It’s not, like, a big deal or anything. I just get possessive… in bed, sometimes. I’m not a weirdo or anything, I promise.”

None of that mattered to you anyway, your dreams of Mark that clouded your head all night giving you the push you needed to throw caution to the wind. Would it be the worst thing in the world to risk it all with him? One kiss, chaste and sweet, was enough to shut him up for just a moment. “So if I said we should try exploring further, maybe go on a date or something, you’d say yes?”

His eyebrows shot up to his hairline, mouth falling agape as he searched your face for any signs that you were being facetious. “Y-yeah, yes. If that’s what you want.” He was so bad with his feelings, sometimes— but you were more than willing to be patient.

“Well, good, because that’s what I want.”

[gladiatorcunt]

father charlie asking you to call him father during sex is making me tweak

cw: 18+ mdni, fem reader, pussy EATING, let him be a little more openly crazy in this one, trope typical dub con and corruption kink but you're just as crazy so you think that you're doing the same thing to him, bible verses as dirty talk, inaccurate religious practices, religious slut shaming/degradation (?)

Your thighs are already shaking and he’s only kissing up your inner thighs, so cute, so sweet. “That’s it, little lamb, lie back for me.”

Your skirt is pushed up to pool around your hips, the wood of the pew you’re sitting on leaving an already uncomfortable ache in your hips.

Father Charlie kneels in front of you, right out in the middle of the open. Sure, it’s after hours and no one is on the premises but the two of you, but God is still here. Isn’t he? Watching in judgment as the man meant to be your spiritual leader sups at the fountain of your cunt.

He smiles when you start squirming and immediately slaps the inside of your thigh, harsh but genuine in its tough love, “Ah ah ah. I thought I told you to lie back and take your Father’s tongue in your pussy like a good girl.”

The candle’s flames flicker as you pant and stare down at him, he looks so handsome in the soft orange glow, like an angel. But isn’t it the demons who sneak down to earth and seduce unsuspecting whorish women into damnation? Father Charlie could never be a demon in your eyes though, and he knows this more than he knows every verse of the good word by heart.

He could desecrate you with a nail gun and you’d bend over and spread your legs, bleeding out on the beige carpet. But you’re his special girl, his darling wife to be and you know better than to do anything that would force his heavy hand.

“I-I’m so sorry, I won’t do it again.” You plead, the thought of losing his favor for even a second causes you genuine distress, "Obey your leaders and submit to them, for they are keeping watch over your souls, as those who will have to give an account.”

“I-i’m so sorry, who?” He mocks, pitching his voice higher and spitting on your clit. “I won’t do it again, who?”

“F-father. I’m so sorry, Father. I’ll be listen you, I swear.”

“You’re going to be a good girl for me anyway, like a real child of God should.”

Your soft sighs turn into even softer moans when he redoubles his efforts and leans forward to kiss your throbbing clit. A crucifix that tastes as electrifying as a star, he moans as your natural musk invades his senses. He’s so happy you’re on an off shaving day too, there’s just enough hair peeking through for some to come off on his tongue with every swipe.

Father Charlie moans into your puffy pussy, speaking in tongues into your folds and sliding his tongue in your sopping hole. He smacks his lips together when he pulls back to breathe, smiling up at you and licking away the sticky string of you that clings to his mouth.

“Maybe I should have this cunt for communion, draft my sermons laying in between your thighs. You should’ve never taken this job, little lamb. Now even God himself couldn’t keep us apart.”

A flash of light, and his nose bleeds onto your pubes. Then the vision’s gone, and Father Charlie’s burying himself back into the heaven that is your sloppy pussy.

You run your fingers through his hair in a frenzy, but you obediently sink into the shooting pain in your pelvis as you slump into the pew.

Father Charlie’s eyes glint like rubies as he eats you like a starving man, your water turning into wine as you flood his taste buds with your juices. His knees strain in the confines of his dark slacks, digging into the church floor, but his precious lamb is worth every twinge of pain. They’d be added bonuses, anyway. He hums a few lines of a hymn, the melodic vibrations give you tingles.

You squirt minutes later when you lock eyes and he nips at your clit, fantasizing about chewing it into a heart. He chastely pecks the bud through your orgasm and into overstimulation, which is always his goal. Father Charlie’s favorite game is to make you come for every sin you confess to in your last confessional.

“You’ve been eating what I’ve recommended, good, you’re fattening up really nicely, dear.” He comments with a quick squeeze to your mound, laughing at your exhaustion.

One down, six to go. You’re blessed with a guilty conscience.

“Go in peace.”

[incognit0slut]

was i stupid to love you?

in which a lingering glance at Rossi’s wedding threatens your engagement.

content: angst, 4.8k, takes place right after truth or dare (14x15), a lot of dialogue, mention of prison arc, emotional distress, relationship conflict, not proofread a/n: when was the last time you saw me write angst? exactly. this is inspired by malcolm & marie bc i really like the idea of having an argument while moving around the house (also disclaimer i have nothing against JJ i just like being dramatic)

The lock clicks open. The door swings with a creak. Your heels tap against the hardwood in a hollow rhythm that feels almost too loud. There’s a tightness in your chest, that prickling behind your eyes, and a familiar ache pressing up from the pit of your stomach, churning into a faint nausea that you try to ignore. You’re trying to hold it back.

Not here.

Not now.

Spencer doesn’t even look up. The keys slip from his hand with a soft clink as they hit the side table, and he turns away with a quiet sigh that reverberates deep in your bones.

“Are you hungry?” he asks, tossing a glance toward the kitchen. “Think we could order something?”

You trail after him, the sharp click of your heels echoing as you step onto the kitchen tile. “We just came back from a wedding.”

He’s rifling through the cupboard, his fingers brushing over the mismatched mugs and neatly stacked plates before he pulls down two glasses. “I barely ate anything at the reception.”

You watch him, biting back a response as memories flicker to mind. The slice of cake he’d poked at absentmindedly, washing it down with sips of water instead of real food.

It wasn’t hunger he seemed focused on tonight. No, it was his quiet glances across the room you keep on catching from the corner of your eye, and that conversation he’d had at the bar. The one where his posture softened, his gaze so intent you’d found yourself staring at the back of his head, trying not to read too much into it—and obviously failing.

“Why didn’t you eat?”

He shrugs, his back still to you as he fills the glasses with water. “I don’t know,” he says, sounding almost absent, like it’s something he hasn’t really thought about. “I didn’t get around to it, I guess.”

The muscles in your jaw ticks as you bite the inside of your cheeks.

Spencer turns, offering you a glass. “I was thinking of Chinese, or maybe we can check if that Thai place you like is still open.”

You take the glass from him, barely sparing it a glance before setting it back down on the counter. “Whatever you want is fine.”

A subtle crease appears between his brows. “You sure? You usually have some opinion when it comes to food.”

“I’m not hungry.”

“You don’t want to eat anything?”

You suppress a sigh. "No. I'm tired."

The soft amber of his eyes dims slightly as he studies you. There's a flicker of uncertainty passing through them before he nods. “Alright,” he concedes. “We don’t have to order anything.”

A faint, humorless laugh escapes you before you can stop it. It tastes bitter, a little unfair, but it slips out before you can pull it back, “You don’t have to change your plans on my account, Spencer.”

“I’m not changing any plans,” he responds. “I’m just making sure you have something to eat in case you’re hungry.”

Your shoes dig uncomfortably into your feet. You shift your weight, starting to pace a few steps back and forth. "It's dinner, you don't have to check on me for every little thing. Do whatever you like."

He blinks, looking genuinely perplexed. "What are you saying? I was trying to be considerate."

"Right. Considerate.”

There’s an unmistakable bite in your tone.

“Yes, because we like doing these things together," he observes, watching your uneasy pacing. "Am I missing something here?”

You shake your head. “Nope.”

"Honey."

The term of endearment lands softly, slipping from his lips like he believes it has the power to melt whatever tension has suddenly crept between you. But it only tightens the knot building in your stomach. It’s stirring the words you’re trying to hold back, tangling them somewhere between your chest and throat.

He calls your name this time, his eyes narrowing into sharp lines. “You’ve been awfully quiet on our way home, and now you’re… honestly, I don’t know why you're acting this way.” His voice dips with a tinge of exasperation. "What’s this really about?"

The words you’ve been biting back feel like a stack of stones in your throat, rising up, up, up, each one pressed tighter by the gnawing nausea in your stomach. You can feel them gathering, and before you know it, they tumble out messily.

“I’m just saying, don’t let me hold you back from getting what you want. I wouldn’t want to stop you from anything—or, god forbid," you add, letting your gaze drift away as if a little distance might soften the blow, “anyone.”

The soft, almost stifled inhale he takes is audible. You don’t even have to look up to see his expression shifting. You’ve known him long enough to recognize the way his shoulders tense, the way his breathing slows as he processes your words. You know his reaction by heart, yet right now, you wonder if saying this was a mistake, if this is the start of something neither of you can take back.

His fingers twitching at his side slip into your line of sight. He's angry.

Maybe this isn’t the time to start a fight.

“What is that supposed to mean?”

Your heels click softly as you turn.

“Forget it. I shouldn't have said anything,” you mutter, already moving toward the bedroom that’s been yours, too, for the past year. Although it feels strange tonight, like a space that belongs to someone else. A life you’re not entirely sure you belong in.

“No." His voice is somewhere behind you. “I think you should explain to me what you mean by that.”

You don’t respond, choosing instead to sink onto the edge of the bed, hands fumbling as you try to undo the straps of your heels. You twist the stubborn leather with more force. His shadow fills the doorway.

“Honey.”

Not again.

You decide to ignore him.

“Is there something you’d like to say to me?”

You tug harder at the strap. “No.”

He doesn’t buy it. “You’re clearly bothered by something.”

You shake your head, fingers still fumbling, the leather cutting against your ankle with each pull. “I’m just tired. Can we leave it at that?”

There’s a flicker of frustration in his gaze now, a crease forming between his brows as he studies you. He moves into the room. You barely have the chance to react before he lowers himself, bending one knee to the floor as he reaches toward the strap you’ve been fighting with. “Here, let me—”

“Don’t,” you interrupt, pulling your foot away. “I can do it myself.”

“I know you can. But let me—”

“I can do it myself!”

Your heartbeat thuds loud in your ears, each pulse feeding the frustration that’s wound its way up from your chest. He rises slowly, not a word passing his lips, but the tension radiates off him like heat. He’s close enough that his warmth presses against your skin, although it’s not the kind you usually find comforting. It’s almost suffocating.

You turn your focus back to the stubborn strap, your fingers trembling slightly as you struggle to grip it. Out of the corner of your eye, you catch him slipping off his shoes, one after the other, the soft thuds barely audible over the rush of your own heartbeat. He pulls off his suit jacket, carefully smoothing the crumpled fabric before hanging it in the closet. For a moment, it seems like he’s going to let it go… until his gaze drifts back to you.

You can tell his patience is fraying, and you’re proven right when he asks again, “What did you mean by that? When you said you wouldn’t want to stop me from anyone… what was that supposed to mean?”

You finally manage to tug the strap loose. The heel drops to the floor with a muted thump. “It was nothing.”

“I don’t think you’d say something like that if it was nothing.”

Your focus shifts to the other shoe. “Just drop it, Spencer.”

"How am I supposed to drop it when you're implying... whatever it is you're implying?"

You keep your eyes down, wrestling with the strap in silence. He cuts through the quiet before it has a chance to grow.

“Don’t do that,” he says. “Don’t brush it off like it’s nothing when it clearly means something. I need to know why you said that.”

You kick off the other heel and meet his gaze for the first time since you walked into the room. “You really want to know?”

He reaches for his bow tie, yanking it loose it with one hard pull. “Do I want to know why you’re giving me this attitude right now? Yes. Yes, I do.”

Oh. So this is going to be that kind of fight.

You hadn’t expected it to go here. Fights with Spencer are very rare, usually more a clash of misunderstandings that you both laugh about with limbs tangled between sheets by the time you’ve made peace. But seeing him standing there with the tie hanging loosely around his neck and his five o’clock shadow casting an even darker line along his jaw, it hits you differently.

This is real. And this time, you don’t know if brushing it off will fix anything.

“Fine, let’s talk about it then.” You rise from the bed, tension carrying you to your feet. “Emily’s speech tonight.”

His brow furrows, not quite a scowl, more a cautious crease as he processes your tone. “Emily’s speech? What about it?”

“What do you remember of it?”

There’s a slight pause, and you can tell he's clearly caught off guard by the question. “She mentioned how Rossi and Krystal are twin flames."

“Right. Two souls that are always meant to be together.”

His face is still marked by confusion, but there’s something else creeping in. A subtle tightening around his eyes tells you he’s starting to piece it together. “I don’t understand what that has to do with—”

“You looked at JJ the second Emily made that speech,” you cut him off. “Spencer, you didn’t even spare a glance at your future wife because you were too busy making eyes at the woman who’s apparently been in love with you all these years.”

There. You said it. The words that have twisted around your insides all evening are finally out. And maybe they taste a little bitter, but at least they're not choking you anymore.

A second passes, then another, and by the time the fifth heartbeat ticks by, he’s standing there with his hand on his hip.

“That’s not what happened."

“Then what was it?” you demand. "I sat beside you the whole day, you didn't even try to hide it."

“That’s not—you’re twisting things.” His hand moves through his hair, fingers digging in as his curls tumble forward onto his forehead. “And you know what happened that night wasn’t real. It was a forced confession. She was under duress, we both were. JJ and I are just friends.”

You arch an eyebrow. “You look at all your friends like that?”

His hand drops to his side. "I don't know what else you want me to say. JJ said what she did because she thought we might die. She has a family, and a husband who she loves. We already went through this, I don't understand why this is suddenly an issue again."

“Maybe I wouldn’t be bringing this up if you didn’t look at her tonight like you were ready to break up that marriage yourself.”

A flash of shock and anger crosses his features.

“That’s not fair,” he snaps, his voice sharper than you’ve heard in a while. “Do you really think I’d disregard everything I have with you because of a look? Because of a history that has never gone anywhere?”

“I don’t know what to think. It's not like it happened just once, I saw you looking at her the same way at the bar." You step forward, accidentally kicking your discarded heel as you move. "What were you two talking about, anyway?”

He lets out a tight breath. “She was checking in on me. She… we haven’t talked much since then.”

The corners of your mouth pull down. “Mhm. Another round of truth or dare?”

“I can’t believe you’re using that against me." His hair flops forward as he shakes his head, falling messily over his brow. "If there were anything unresolved with JJ, I would’ve said something. But I didn’t, because there’s nothing there."

“And yet, she’s always been an important part of your life, hasn't she?"

He tilts his head. "What are trying to say now?"

Your tongue darts out, briefly brushing your lips. You're not sure you should say it, but it feels like a door has swung open—a door to words that have been waiting for their moment.

You take a slow, deep breath, filling your lungs with as much air as you can.

“When you were in prison, you put her on your visiting list ahead of almost everyone else. Doesn’t that say something about where she stands with you?”

He exhales sharply, dragging a hand over the back of his neck.

“She’s part of the team,” he says, as if he’s trying to spell out something he’s already explained a dozen times. "There were strict rules, I already told you that only a handful of people were allowed to visit. It wasn’t like I could just put anyone on the list.”

“But you could’ve put me on there!”

The familiar burn of tears prickles at the edges of your eyes, but you blink them back, refusing to let them fall. An explanation or protest is poised on his lips, but you’re already moving, closing the distance with a single, decisive step. A finger lands on his chest.

“I was your girlfriend, Spencer. Were you that determined to keep me out? Was the thought of seeing me really so unbearable? Do you even understand how hard it was to sit at home, knowing you were locked up, feeling completely helpless? Do you have any idea how much I hated myself day after day because I couldn’t do anything to help you?”

Your lips quiver. You feel like your heart is about to leap out of your throat.

“I was out here, just… waiting. Wondering if you were okay, if they were treating you alright, if you even had someone to talk to. And meanwhile, she’s there, with you. Every single time, she’s the one who gets to be by your side.”

Your nail digs into the fabric of his shirt.

“So forgive me if I can’t just let that go. Because when it mattered, it felt like you didn’t want me to be there for you. And now… now I don’t even know if you need me the way you seem to need her.”

Your breathing turns shallow, each inhale catching in your chest. The tears you’ve been holding back are dangerously blurring your vision. You swallow the knot lodged in your throat.

“I need a minute.”

Without another word, you turn and walk out of the room, leaving him standing there in stunned silence. You slip back into the kitchen, leaning against the counter as you finally reach for the glass of water that’s been sitting there untouched. You take a sip, barely feeling the cool water on your lips, when you hear his footsteps behind you.

“You think I don’t want you in my life?” he demands. “You think I somehow need her more than I need you?”

You set the glass down. “What part of ‘I need a minute’ do you not understand?”

“You really expect me to wait quietly after you unloaded every doubt you’ve ever had about us?”

You life your chin up. “Yes, I do. I need space to think right now.”

“What more do you want to think about when you’ve already convinced yourself that I’m always going to fall short? Is it so hard to believe that you’re the one I want?”

“You want to know why it’s so damn hard to believe?” You turn towards him. “Because every time I try to let this go, there’s always something. A confession. That—that not-so-subtle look. And when those things happen, it reminds me that I’m not as close to you as she is. I’m fucking tired of feeling like I’m fighting for space in your life.”

“Do you think I want you to feel like that? Do you think I’d go through everything we’ve been through if you didn’t matter to me?”

“Then explain to me why I wasn’t on that list!” you cry out. “Explain to me why, in one of the hardest times of your life, you couldn’t make space for me?”

“Because I was trying to protect you!”

A heavy, dreadful silence falls between you. He takes a step back, his eyelids fluttering shut briefly, and when he opens them again, there’s a softness in his gaze that mirrors the gentleness now threading through his voice.

“I know it probably doesn’t make sense to you, and maybe it never will, but I couldn’t stand the idea of you seeing me like that. Living through it was hard enough, but having you there, seeing me so helpless… It would have crushed me. I didn’t want that to be your memory of me.”

His Adam’s apple dips as he swallows, a quick, almost anxious movement you’ve witnessed countless times.

“And when JJ came to see me,” he continues, “the way the inmates looked at her, the things they said after she left… it was disgusting. I couldn’t—wouldn’t—let that happen to you. I couldn’t live with thought of you being subjected to that because of me.”

You lower your head with a sigh. “I don’t care if they looked. I don’t care what they would’ve thought.”

“But I care,” he fires back, taking a step forward. “Because you mean more to me than anyone. All I wanted was to keep you safe, and maybe I didn't handle it right, maybe I made the wrong call... but it was only because I—" His voice drops into an even more gentle note. "Because I love you."

Your heart stumbles, an uneven beat that feels almost bruised, pounding hard against your ribs.

"I-I love you so much. More than I know how to put into words." The ache in your chest sharpens as his hands come up to cup your cheeks. "I don't like fighting with you. I hate it, actually. I hate seeing you look at me like this."

You also hate the way he’s looking at you. There’s a depth to his annoyingly pretty eyes that makes it impossible to hold up your defenses without feeling them crumble. You let your eyes flutter closed.

“Why don’t we… call it a night?” He suggests. “Let’s lie down. We don’t have to talk about this now.”

The blackness behind your eyelids does little to quiet your mind. Nor does his voice. Or his touch. Instead of offering peace, his presence throws every glance, every moment of tension from tonight into sharper relief.

You draw in a breath, trying to find some comfort in his palms against your cheeks. Yet, even this can’t smooth away the doubt that’s settled in. With a resigned sigh, you release the breath you’ve been holding along with the words that have been pressing at the back of your throat.

“You haven’t explained it to me.”

The shadows in his gaze seem to deepen when you open your eyes.

“What do you mean?”

“We’ve been going in circles, but you haven’t explained to me what happened tonight,” you say quietly. “Why did you look at her, Spencer?”

His thumb absently strokes your cheek in a way that feels more hesitant than reassuring.

“Be honest with me,” you press. “Was there a part of you, even the tiniest part, that still wanted something with her? Some small part of you that… wondered what it might be like?”

The silence between you presses in from all sides, broken only by the faint hum of the refrigerator and the distant, muffled ticking of a clock on the wall. It’s the kind of quiet that sharpens even the smallest sounds, yet his lack of response feels like the loudest thing of all.

You pull back from him with an incredulous laugh.

“Unbelievable.” The word barely makes it past your lips, then louder as you start to move, pacing the length of the apartment. “Unbelievable.”

“Wait,” he says, trailing after you, “I didn’t even say anything.”

You stop short by the couch and whip around to face him.

“You didn’t need to! You—you hesitated," you stammer, searching his face for any flicker of denial, but it’s there, plain as day, that split-second of doubt you caught. “That was already an answer.”

He inches closer. A hand closes in on you. “Please—”

You flinch, pulling back, and every muscle in your body tightens. “Don’t. Don’t touch me right now.”

His hand falls to his side. “Please… let me explain."

You watch his hand drop, fingers twitching like they’re not sure if they should retreat or reach out again, but he keeps them there, hovering in some invisible line you’ve drawn. He looks at you with those big, pleading eyes, and for a split second, you almost feel bad for him.

Almost.

A bitter sort of smile tugs at the corner of your mouth. "So now you want to explain?"

He takes that as permission, and his voice comes in low, almost cautious. "When I first started at the BAU, I had… maybe a crush. A passing thing, barely anything, really. But that was fourteen years ago.” His hand scrubs through his hair in a frustrated sweep. “Fourteen years."

Your brows pull into a frown. “Why am I only hearing about this now?”

“Because it was nothing,” he says, almost too quickly. “I was young, it didn’t matter. I didn’t think it was worth bringing up.”

“Oh, I get it now. All those old feelings came rushing back the night she confessed, didn’t they?”

He mirrors your frown, a visible line of tension etching itself between his brows as he protests, “It’s nothing like that.”

“Then what is it?” you press. “Because from where I’m standing, it looks a whole lot like you’re caught between us because some part of you is still hung up on what might’ve been with her."

He shifts uncomfortably, and you notice the muscles in his jaw clenching the moment his gaze falters, dipping away for just a heartbeat before he looks back at you.

“It’s not that I don’t know what I want,” he starts to explain. “I didn’t expect her to say those things, and, yes, it threw me off for a moment. But that doesn’t mean I’m looking back, or that I want her. I want you.”

You shake your head, feeling a tired sort of frustration settle over you, and walk over to the couch. The soft cushions give slightly beneath you as you sink down.

“If you really wanted me, this wouldn’t be happening. You wouldn’t have let her get into your head like that. And now, you expect to believe that none of it meant anything?”

He’s quick to follow, closing the distance in a few tense steps. “It’s not—” His hands flex open and close at his sides. “You’re acting like one single look tonight is enough to decide I’m not committed to you. Do you really think I’d let some confession I didn’t even ask for get in the way of what we have?”

“It’s not just about that single look. It’s the way she could say something and suddenly, you’re pulled back to something you swore you’d put behind you. How am I supposed to feel secure when she still has that power over you?”

“And what am I supposed to do, then? Apologize for things I don’t even feel anymore?”

You flinch at the sharpness in his voice. A low, frustrated noise rumbles in his chest when you don’t respond.

“You’re always going to question me no matter what I say, aren’t you?"

You glance over at him, catching the disheveled strands of hair falling over his forehead, and it pulls you back to that night he came home after that dreadful night. He’d walked in looking worn in a way you’d never seen before, his whole posture weighted down as if he was carrying more than just the fear of being held hostage.

You remember sitting with him on this same couch, fingers brushing his, and asking what was bothering him.

JJ said she loved me.

Your heart lurched, a quick, quiet ache that you tried to swallow down. Really?

Don’t worry. It’s not true.

But with that same haunted look in his eyes right now, you can’t help but wonder if it really was just a well-intentioned lie.

“One glance and you’re accusing me of things that are never going to happen,” he starts again. “Do you really think so little of me? After everything we’ve shared, you really think I’d betray you like that?”

In true honesty, you don’t believe he would ever cross that line. But the doubts still linger, fed by those small hesitations, the moments when his eyes seem somewhere else. It’s not that you think he’d betray you. It’s that a part of him might still be holding onto something he won’t let you see.

“It’s like you don’t know me at all.”

Now those words you might actually believe.

“Maybe I don’t,” you say quietly, eyes drifting to the ring on your finger. You twist it absently, remembering the night he proposed. How he’d stumbled over his words, his cheeks flushing as he tried to make the moment perfect but ended up rambling in that endearing, nervous way of his. You’d laughed, reassured him that it was exactly right, that you didn’t need grand gestures. All you needed was him.

And yet, you don’t think he needs you as much you need him.

A hollow ache settles around your hand as you slip the ring off.

“What are you doing?”

You stare down at the gold band in your palm, blinking back the sting of tears.

“Tell me what you’re doing.”

Panic. Desperation. There’s a sudden rush of melancholy in his voice, a heaviness that wasn’t there a moment ago.

You swallow the lump in your throat. “I don’t know,” you whisper. “I—I don’t know anything right now.”

His face crumples, and in a sudden, almost instinctive movement, he drops down to his knees.

“No, no, you do know me. I’m sorry… I’m so sorry. Isn’t this—” he stops, then dips his head, trying to catch your gaze. “Isn’t that what couples do? They argue, they mess things up… but they work through it, right? Right?”

You look down, feeling the cool weight of the ring pressing into your skin.

“Spencer…” you begin. “I trust you. I do, and I’m sorry if I made it seem like I didn’t. But… I need to feel secure. I… I need to know that I don’t have to wonder or worry about where I stand. I never thought you’d be the one to make me doubt that.”

There’s a sharp ache in your chest.

“I didn’t think it could hurt this much. Not from you.”

Your pulse ring in your ear.

“I can’t—” The words catch in your throat, a stinging burn rising as you force them out. “I can’t be your wife when I’m constantly questioning if I have all of you. When I feel like… there’s always a part of you that isn’t mine.”

“I’m yours, honey. I’m always yours.”

“I wish I could believe that.”

There’s a slight falter in his voice. “Don’t—please don’t do this—”

“I can’t keep pretending it doesn’t hurt.”

He falls silent, and for a moment, the only sound is the rough, uneven rhythm of both your breaths filling the space between you. Then, like something inside him finally cracks open, he sinks down, pressing his forehead against your lap. The sudden weight of him forces a broken sob from your throat.

“Please,” he begs, fingers clutching at your sides. His chin presses deep into your thigh. “Tell me how to fix this. I can’t— I can’t lose you.”

“Spence…”

“I love you,” he blurts out, the words tumbling from him in a rush. “I love you.”

But what is love, really? Is it just a word people reach for when they’ve run out of things to say, a way to patch over bruised hearts and broken promises? Or should it feel like something more solid, something that doesn’t leave you questioning or aching? You can’t even tell anymore.

You wonder, too, if maybe you’ve been wrong all along. If this feeling in your chest isn’t love but something dressed up as it, something that fills the gaps while slowly hollowing you out. Because here you are, clinging to a love that somehow makes you feel like you’re both needed and unseen. Everything and nothing all at once.

You feel like a fool.

“I want to go to bed.”

His head lifts from your lap, a flash of surprise darting across his face, as though he hadn’t expected you to say anything at all, let alone that. “Yeah, okay, let’s go to bed. We’ll… we’ll figure this out in the morning.”

“I’d rather be alone.”

The words hit him visibly. His mouth opens, an argument forming there, but he catches himself, letting the silence stretch before he nods slowly.

“Then… I’ll stay out here. On the couch,” he offers softly. “Just… in case you need anything.”

A pang cuts through you at the thought of him stretched out on the couch, his legs too long, his shoulders folded in to fit the cramped space. But the idea of sharing a bed right now feels impossible.

You reach down, holding out the ring towards him.

“No,” he says firmly, gently pushing your hand away. “Don’t do that. This… it doesn’t mean we’re giving up. It just means we need time. That’s all.”

You’re not sure if your mind will change in the morning. The ring presses into your skin, but finally, you close your hand around it, nodding faintly before you peel away from him.

The tears start the moment the bedroom door clicks shut behind you. It spills over in a jagged, helpless cry that sounds nothing like you imagined heartbreak might sound. It’s messy, a kind of aching grief that feels too big for your chest, clawing its way out with no grace at all. You can practically hear how pathetic you sound, and yet you can’t seem to stop.

Even when the hem of your dress trails across the floor. Even when you finally collapse onto his side of the bed. There’s no stopping you. With the ring sitting cold in your hand, your tears keep coming, soaking into the pillow as you cling to the last trace of him woven into the sheets.

[teamred]

focus on me

✩‌ qimir x acolyte!reader | smut | fluff | 2.5k

SUMMARY | in which the tension finally breaks between you and your master when you train together one afternoon.

WARNINGS | smut, s*xual force choking, knee foreplay, finger sucking, f*ngering, dirty talk, piv s*x, unprotected s*x, violence (fighting and choking)

RATING | explicit

NOTES | i'm simply a girl who's fallen to the dark side for qimir!!! qimir's lowkey a softie in this, which might not be canon, but idc!!!

You stumble back with your palm soiled wet. 

Thankfully, you grounded the rest of your weight with your makeshift wooden staff. Panting, you drag yourself upward, readying yourself for what’s to come next. 

Sweat drips down your forehead as the sun begins to dip into the horizon beyond the abundance of trees and overgrowth, the heat felt by your exposed arms and through your thin sleeveless wrap top.

It's been more than two hours of training, but your master knows your limit. Pushes you until you break–and he knows you’re far from your breaking point. 

Perspiration also stains his forehead. Master Qimir wipes it away with the back of his hand, moving his hair aside too. 

Moments like these, you pride yourself in knowing his identity after years of him preserving his anonymity behind that intimidating, powerful mask. He’s gained followers over time since you've known him, but you’re his one and only acolyte. 

Your mind wanders further. Why does he choose to wear his mask in public when he can make nations fall to their knees just with a flash of his smirk? 

Said smirk is plastered on his face as he twirls his two batons between his fingers with ease. Beyond his smirk, there was also the ordeal of seeing his glistening, gorgeous arms every day and– 

Your master calls out your name playfully, “I hope you’re focusing on me.”

“You know I am, Master.” You’re not exactly lying. You inch closer, holding your staff firmly with both hands and pointing one end of it in his direction. 

He tsks and lets out of a deep chuckle. It always bothers you how his chuckles make your heart skip a beat, among the other things it does to the rest of your body.  

“You're focusing on things about me, Acolyte. Not on me directly, nor on my presence,”—he paces in a circle around you, with you tracking his every step—“If this was a real fight, you’d be dead.”

“Well, I can’t help it that my master can be so distracting!” you grit out, taking the opportunity to lunge towards him. 

Weapons clash. Loud echoes continually reverberate throughout the forest, along with your occasional grunts. 

Master Qimir’s style is aggressive and swift, always on the offense, so you’ve become accustomed to defend his moves well. He comes in with one baton towards your side, and the other towards your head. You deflect both smoothly, and without much thought, you decide to attack him. 

However, your confidence blinds you.

Too close. 

He elbows your arm and slams into your side, causing your staff to drop.  

Then, Qimir shoves you far with the Force, distancing you from your weapon, and gets close again to hook his foot around yours. Your back stings as you fall down. 

In the blink of an eye, he pins you down with both batons tightly pressed against your throat, cutting off your air supply. You struggle under him, trying your best to smack him away with your diminishing strength. 

“Breathe, think, and focus,” he calmly orders, despite the agonizing scene in front of him. 

You take a second to compose yourself, inhaling as much as you can for a second.

Suddenly, you feel his knee move up between your legs, spreading them.

And you feel him moving upwards again, but this time brushing against your core. 

Your sparring composure absolutely shatters–a gasp and small moan release, and you’re back to struggling once more. 

You assume it was a mistake, but you’re relishing in the pleasure nevertheless, even in your current state of distress. 

“Focus, my acolyte,” Master Qimir barks, and he presses the batons harder into you. “Focus!” 

Your vision begins to blur alongside the increasing pounding of your heartbeat in your ears. Gathering all your might and wanting to avoid disappointing Qimir, you breathe as much as you can and drown out everything to focus on how to get out of the situation. 

With a sliver of consciousness left, you will yourself to use the Force and seize your staff. Your fingers clutch around it and you thwack Qimir hard on the head, disorienting him for a moment. Without hesitation, throughout your excessive gasping, you skillfully maneuver yourself to switch positions. 

Now, your staff is pressed against his throat. 

“Is this better, Master?” you pant and cough with a grin, basking in your success. “Am I focused now?” 

He grants a brief nod, but you notice an unusual look in his eyes. 

It reads as a rare time he’s overly impressed, but there’s something else. 

Qimir raises his hand and gently curls it around yours, wordlessly asking you to lower your weapon. You ruffle your eyebrows, unsure why he’s letting down his guard against you during training.

“Master Qimir,” you whisper, still holding your staff to the side with a relaxed but guarded grip, “is this another test of yours?”  

He shakes his head, his touch now carefully grazing your forehead and cheeks. Your staff rolls away as your eyes flutter, savoring this foreign feeling from him–tenderness, affection, warmth. A hand softly cups your face. 

“Training’s over for today.” 

The warmth fades into familiar roughness with a sharp pull by the back of your neck downwards. 

His mouth drives into yours, each kiss igniting fire within you, sparking every inch of your body. Desire is bursting at the seams. He kneads your neck and body intently, mirroring you as you clutch onto his face and sturdy frame. 

You’d be lying to yourself if you said you had never fantasized kissing Qimir before, but this is everything you dreamed of and better.  

“Master–” you gasp sharply at the sensation of him pressing his knee up against you again. Reflexively, you writhe as your body screams for more. 

“You like this a lot…” His tone drips of arrogance. Further pressure is added and he happily inhales your moans between his teasing chuckles.   

You manage to muster the following amidst the rising pleasure, “So it was intentional before.”

“Of course.” His words are muffled as he leaves open-mouthed kisses upon the side of your neck. Your fingers dig further into his shoulder and scalp as he cups your breast. “You need to learn to push aside your desires when training.” 

“Should we stop then?” The neck kissing sears you, especially when he tugs skin between his teeth to bite and suck. “To teach me a lesson?” 

He shakes his head and removes himself from your neck, coming back up to drag your lower lip between his teeth. 

“It doesn’t mean I want to push aside my desires.” 

You catch a fleeting glimpse of his signature smirk before his lips are on yours again. Kisses become more electric as he dips his tongue into your mouth.

Hands fly erratically and grasp everywhere. His arms. Your ass. Fingers running beneath his top, feeling up his abs. His harsh grips of your thighs. 

Unexpectedly, he holds you close and flips you over; you’re back on top of him again and you can surely feel his prominent desire against yours. 

In a rush, you bunch up his thin shirt and attempt to pull it off him. He sits up with you in his lap and, with a fluid flick of his wrist, he rids you of your clothes and they are tossed to one side; his follow suit. Qimir promptly draws his nearby robes closer to be placed underneath you both, covering yourselves from the soiled forest. 

The look in his eyes is unmistakably lust-filled, completely insatiable. He wastes no time in taking your tit into his mouth, tongue flicking and lips puckering, while one hand holds you by your back and the other dips two fingers into your desire, wet and ready for him. 

You arch into him, leaning your head back and letting yourself go. Wanting to reciprocate, you reach out to stroke his cock. Relishing in the pleasure, he draws back his head, eyes closed, and leans his forehead against your chest.

The forest may be filled with the rustling of the wind against the trees and the odd bird cawing, but all you can focus on is Qimir’s throaty groans and every obscene squelch when he slides his fingers in and out of you. 

He glances up and attempts to open his eyes as much as he can to give you his full attention, despite the heavenly strokes you’re giving him. 

Eyes shine back at you with the utmost vulnerability–a sight you never see. A sight that you want to etch into your memory forever, knowing you, his Acolyte, could make your Master weak and let his guard down with just your touch. 

“You don’t know how long I’ve held myself back…”

The vulnerability dissipates as he darts his tongue against your untouched nipple. 

“...wanting to see you like this for me.” 

You two become one for a while as he plays with you like a toy he just received as a gift. He tries you out, sees what you like and what you can handle. How sensitive you are with your breasts. How many fingers you can take. How much noise you make when he thumbs your clit. 

At one point, he eventually removes his fingers from you, evidently drenched from your bliss. He holds out his fingers in front of you, and you realize what he’s suggesting.   

Obediently, like you always are with him, you open your mouth and let his fingers lay on your tongue. You wrap your mouth around them, and finally let yourself suck on them a bit, tasting yourself and treating his fingers as if it were his cock. 

When you finish, to your surprise, he sticks his fingers into his own mouth, sucking off the remnants of you. He then kisses you deeply. Tasting yourself in his mouth excites you, riles you up again and back to wanting the next step with Qimir. 

As if reading your mind, he adjusts himself to lay back down vertically, and takes you by your wrist to lead you to sit onto him. 

You hold his possession against you between your legs, teasing his tip by not quite sitting onto him fully, indulging in your control over him. However, at this point, Qimir lacks patience, so he grasps you by your waist and forces you to ease onto his length.  

The guttural moan you release could easily be heard at all ends of the forest. 

He fills you deliciously, stretches you in the sweetest way possible. Using the strength of your thighs and your hands to keep you steady, you bounce at a comfortable pace, not wanting this to end just yet.

When you find a good position to balance your weight, you allow yourself to stroke his perfect body. His chiseled abs. The solid planes of his chest. His strong forearms. The sharp jawline that you dream of kissing almost every night.

“You take my cock so well.” 

A more familiar look flashes through his eyes, one that you normally see him flash prior to slaying Jedi or when he's in a bad mood. It’s drenched with darkness and dominance, almost bordering on fury.   

You freeze, and then you feel it.

The constriction around your throat, created by the Force. He can easily kill you within seconds. He's done this only once to you, and that was when he was testing your loyalty to him years ago.

But this is different. Different than that time, and most definitely different than before with his batons. This is more controlled; the hold is mostly against the sides of your windpipe and it isn't overtly harsh. 

On top of that, your entire body is on fire, becoming wound up by this act.  

“Do you enjoy this?” he asks, tone teetering between curiosity and being threatening.

“Yes,” you mentally scream.

“I want to hear you say it.” 

“Yes,” you manage to croak. 

He raises an eyebrow. “Yes, what?”

“Yes, Master.” 

“Nu-uh,” he says. “Say my name, my beautiful acolyte.”

You're too distracted to be caught up in the fact that he called you beautiful. Instinctively, you want to ride this new sensation to lead you to another high. But you know that if you don’t reply, he might not let you get there. 

“Yes, Qimir.”

His signature smirk takes up his whole face and your pussy clenches tighter at the sight of it. He may have the upper hand with his strength around your neck, but so do you when you notice the flickering of his eyes.

“And how does my cock feel?” He tightens a little more around your throat, and you're affected further. Qimir's collectedness can only take much longer too.

“Feels good, feels so fucking good…” 

Intoxication rises from your abdomen and to all ends of your body. Your eyes begin to roll, and you're so close��� 

And it's gone. The tightness on your throat stops, and so is your near-high.

You're about to complain, but Qimir quickly hauls you in close to his body. Face to face, forehead to forehead, your breaths fan one another.

“Before I let either of us finish, I want to hear you say my name as you come on my cock.”

That smirk will be the absolute death of you, but you wouldn't have it any other way.

“Can you do that for me?” 

You nod breathlessly.

Your master holds you by your waist and immediately thrusts over and over, deep and fast into you. Desperate to reach his climax, and to ensure you get to yours too.

“QimirQimirQimir–” 

And so you unravel, voice rising with every iteration. Saying his name like you’re praying for forgiveness from all ends of the universe. 

Qimir then brings his mouth to yours once more, swallowing all your pretty whimpers and allowing himself to chase his own release moments later. 

Laying on his bare chest, you glance up at him and wonder how the relationship between you will be from now on.

You couldn’t just go back to what you were before; you would now be a master and acolyte intertwined sexually at least, romantically at most. Would it not be complicated? 

But of course, Master Qimir can hear what’s going on in your mind, and he doesn’t even need the Force to do so. Being his enigmatic self, he merely answers your thoughts by speaking the Sith Code: 

“‘Peace is a lie. There is only passion…’” 

He meets your eyes, strokes your face with a small smile. Affection blooms in your chest.

“‘Through passion, I gain strength.’” 

Holds your hand against his beating chest. 

“‘Through strength, I gain power.’” 

His grip tightens. 

“‘Through power, I gain victory. And through victory, my chains are broken.’” 

Qimir leans in and kisses you deeply as the darkness of the night sky engulfs you, the sun saying its goodbye for the night.

And with that, you realize that no matter what will happen from here on out, he’ll always care for you. 

That despite all the blood, sweat, and tears shed through training, stealing, and all the killing, he’s just as loyal and devoted to you as you are to him.

[suguru-getos]

࿐ husband neuvillette headcanons (f!reader) ࿐

neuvillette, the most respected man in the nation of hydro, more than their archon focalors. he commands respect wherever he goes, his aura still polite, ever so approachable. however, the power of his position cowers people. they are often rendered scared to approach him, some of them literally profusely sweating around his nimble aura.

you, were his wife now, his significant other. someone he cherished more than life itself & someone who made you feel safe, heard, protected. it was said that he was the most sought out bachelor in fontaine before he left his heart for you one day. “break it or keep it. it isn’t mine anymore.” is what he said, when he proposed you. oh the words ring into your ear like the finest melodies till date.

the steambird/ the media was eager to cover everything about the wedding; but to their surprise— neuvillette took you outside fontaine. the city of freedom — monstadt is where you two tied the knot in the presence of a certain, melodious and a high alcohol simp bard.

truth be told, once you were married. there were people who forced false allegations on you. how you manipulated the chief justice into falling in love with you. how you are fake and you act in accordance to his liking to be loved by him. some people even tried to forge false cases against you. all of which— deeply entertained furina. thankfully, neuvillette was never someone to pay attention to any of these things. at one time, he himself fought for you in a false trial. you couldn’t be more thankful.

rains— the legend of hydro dragon weeping causing the rains was famous throughout the country of fontaine. one day, when neuvillette came home a little early, looking distressed, you noticed a harsh, unforgiving thunderstorm drenching the country. you walked towards the terrace, looking up and gently, soothingly whispering. “oh- hydro dragon. please don’t cry.” the rain… lessened. it was as if the intensity had been lessened.

it wasn’t more time until neuvillette confessed to you about him being a hydro dragon. ever since then, whenever there had been rains in fontaine, you make sure to find your beloved husband and hug him tightly, kiss his forehead and tell him everything will be alright. it breaks you apart seeing him like this after all.

sometimes when he comes back home, he always brings your favorite flowers, maybe your favorite desserts, along with a beaming smile only you have seen. people who are aquainted to you often ask if neuvillette being the chief justice and being the most powerful man in fontaine makes your married life difficult. truth is.. it could never. they just haven’t had any access to the good that your beloved dragon holds.

things do get riff-raffy when furina acts a little too childish around him. he pays no attention to her self-centered, self-absorbed behavior but it pinches you how she bothers him for every little thing. once, there was a celebratory banquet held for the same and your displeased face told neuvillette in that very instant — how you’d like the archon to ‘behave’ around your husband. he has been extra careful ever since. <3

your husband might look stern, but he is a soft man. you have witnessed this first hand with how respectfully and tenderly he treats you. on the bad days of your period, the chief justice is nothing but a doting husband for his wifey. you can always be snuggled up to him and cry, or just spend time.

he is a HUGE cuddle bug. would love to destress off work by wrapping his big arms around you and peppering your face with tender kisses. he smells amazing too! always making you feel warm and fuzzy inside.

[moonstruckme]

hi mae !! i wanted to ask whether you would consider writing poly!marauders where reader has really bad/intrusive nightmares about maybe something bad happening to loved ones/aka the boys? i keep having nightmares at night and when i wake up i’m way too scared to go to sleep again and can barely calm down. it’s okay if you don’t feel comfortable though !! 🫂💞

Thank you for requesting <3

poly!marauders x fem!reader ♡ 776 words

You choke on a gasp as you wake, frantic to escape the hands restraining yours. 

“Hey, hey.” Sirius is holding your wrists to his chest, his grip gentle but strong as he watches you with worried eyes. “You’re okay, baby. You’re okay.” 

As fast as you’d launched into wakefulness, it takes you a second to realize you’re not in danger. Your muscles slacken gradually. 

“Dove?” Remus croaks from behind you. Sirius continues to look at you with that steady, searching gaze, like he’s making sure you’re well and truly awake. 

“You alright?” he asks softly. “You want the light on?” 

Your face feels very warm. “I’m sorry,” you try to say, but your voice comes out a whimper, followed promptly by a stymied sob. 

You can see Sirius’ expression scrunch painfully even through the blur of tears. You want to tell him that you’re okay, that this is more an aftershock of past upset than anything, but when you open your mouth only another sob emerges. 

“It’s okay,” he shushes you, bringing your knuckles to his lips. “You’re fine, sweetheart. Let’s sit up.” 

He reaches for the lamp while you sit up against the pillows, your knees curling up towards you instinctively. It illuminates the comfortable safety of your room, so different from the horrorscape of the dream you’ve just had, as well as the tired faces of your boyfriends. 

James is fumbling for his glasses on the nightstand while Remus squints into the light, clearly trying to make out your face. Sirius leans against the headboard beside you, taking one of your hands back in his. 

“Bad dream?” he asks, though you already all know the answer. 

You nod anyway. 

Remus makes a sad humming sound. “You were saying something in your sleep. Do you remember what happened?”

“No.” You sniffle. “I don’t know…I don’t remember what happened. Just how it felt.” 

Remus’ brow creases with sympathy. You can see James peering at you from behind him, looking half desperate to crawl across his boyfriend’s lap to get to you, but they know better than to crowd you when you’re like this. For now, Sirius takes the lead. 

He runs his thumb back and forth over your palm. “Do you want to talk about how it felt?” he asks you. 

You chew your lips. “I don’t think so.” 

If possible, his eyes soften further. “Do you want a hug, sweet girl?”

You worry you’re going to sob again. “Yeah,” you manage tightly. 

“Oh, sweetheart.” Remus’ arms come around you eagerly. Tender and kind, he rubs your arm and uses one of his hands to bring your head to his chest, pressing a kiss to your hair along with a shapeless murmur. Though you can’t make it out, the sound of his voice is sweet enough to coax another tiny sob from you. 

James makes a sound of distress when he hears it. “Remus, you’re supposed to be making her feel better.” 

“Yeah, what the hell?” Sirius seconds. “Clearly, you’re doing it wrong.” 

Remus chuckles. You feel it rumble through him, and Sirius squeezes your ankle teasingly. 

“Is he making you sadder, baby?” 

“No,” you mumble. 

“Mm, prove it.” You look down, and James’ head is resting on Remus’ lap. “Give us a smile.” 

You do your best. You know it has to be watery and awful, but your boyfriend beams up at you nonetheless. 

“There she is.” 

“You two are awful,” says Remus, cupping his hand over your ear protectively. “She doesn’t want your coercive happiness.” 

Sirius hums. He squeezes up your calf until his hand is resting on your knee. “Do you think you’re going to be able to go back to sleep?” he asks you.

You peek at him. “Honestly?”

“Always.” 

“Not really, no.” 

He frowns, but there’s no accusation in it. Just disappointment on your behalf. 

“Okay.” James rolls off Remus’ lap, sitting up. “I have to get ready for training in half an hour anyway. Want to sit with me in the living room until then, angel?” 

You look at him despondently. “Jamie, you don’t have to get up.” 

“No, come on.” He comes around the bed to collect you. Remus lets you go somewhat begrudgingly, allowing you to be tucked under James’ arm. “I’d have been up soon anyway. We’ll let those two sleep, I never get you to myself like this.” 

“There’s to be no kissing while Remus and I are asleep,” Sirius says as Remus reaches around him to turn off the light. 

“Tyrant,” James replies as you leave the room. He brings his face close to yours, scruff tickling your cheek. “Now we have to kiss extra.”

[snowballseal]

Tipsy Tricks

Sylus X Reader

Summary: You and Sylus agree to focus on work for a little bit, meaning you don't have time to see each other. That is...until you get a panicked call from the twins saying their boss is drunk and needs someone to cuddle with.

Word Count: 1836

Note: FLUFF - Sylus is drunk, but honestly, I feel like he can handle his alcohol well so he does a bit of acting. It's all just to get your attention and he's a little more clingy. Also, Luke and Kieran my beloveds.

---

“Miss, we need your help!”

You blink at the sudden shout that comes through your phone the moment you answer it.

“Luke?”

“Please Miss! Boss is not acting himself!”

“Kieran? Wait- hold on, just-”

“Ah! We’re too late!”

“Please Miss, come save us!”

You blink again as the call ends just as abruptly.

What the-?

You stare at the now dark screen for a long moment, just trying to process what happened. It’s late, late enough that you’re already dressed in your pajamas and winding down in bed. The last thing you were expecting was to get such a panicked call from Luke and Kieran.

What were they even talking about? Why do they need saving? Is something wrong with Sylus?

The thought wedges into your chest like a thorn, sharp and uncomfortable. You hadn’t heard from the Onychinus leader - your lover - in a few days due to his busy schedule. Neither of you liked it, but you agreed it was best he just focus on work, and you’d do the same to keep yourself occupied.

Getting a call like this only makes your anxiety skyrocket.

You don’t even bother wasting the time to change, throwing a coat over your pajamas and snatching your keys as you hurdle out the door. 

---

“Miss!!! Oh you’ve come to save us, thank you!”

Luke and Kieran throw the door open before your knuckles even touch it. You jump back, chest heaving from having run all the way from the transport station. They look just as frazzled, well, as frazzled as two men in masks can look. 

“What’s wrong? Is Sylus okay? Why are you guys freaking out?” You shoot out questions quickly, grabbing one of the twins by the shoulders. “You guys were infuriatingly cryptic over the phone! Seriously, who calls in the middle of the night like that?”

“We’re sorry,” Luke leans in, trying to rescue his brother from your vicious grip, “We just didn’t know what to do. Boss hardly ever gets like this!”

“He kept talking about you so we figured you could help us,” Kieran insists, ducking away with the help of his brother.

“Okay, but what’s wrong? Is he hurt?” You press for more details, concern only growing. “What happened to make him act weird?”

“He’s drunk.”

…

Your jaw shuts with an audible click, going tense as you stare at them incredulously. Seriously? All of this, all of the panic, the urgency, because Sylus got drunk? You take a deep, slow breath, trying to ease the immediate desire to knock their heads together.

“Let me get this straight. You’re telling me that you called me. In the middle of the night. After I had settled down for bed. Screaming bloody murder over the phone. Because Sylus had too much to drink?”

“...yes.”

“That’s right.”

You close your eyes. Another deep breath. Slowly, the panic that had washed over you recedes, leaving a sliver of irritation and amusement. You really should expect nothing less from them.

“Okay,” you sigh and prop your hands on your hips. The two seem to relax, like they had actually expected you to smack them. Which you might have, if they hadn’t sounded truly distressed earlier. “So why is this such a bad thing? Sylus is an adult, he can handle being a little drunk, but you two are acting like the world is ending. Why?”

“Well you see-”

“Boss gets incredibly physical when he’s drunk-”

“Not in a violent way-”

“Unless he’s around people he doesn’t like.”

“Right.”

You blink slowly at them, “...so?”

“It’s scary!” Kieran crows.

“It’s like having a kodiak bear trying to give you a hug!” Luke adds, curling his fingers in a gesture you’re sure is meant to mimic said bear.

“We love the boss, but we can’t handle him like this.”

“And he kept asking for you! So we called.”

Ah.

You take a moment to really process all of it. Sylus is drunk. Sylus is a touchy drunk…

It’s too good to pass up on

“Alright, boys,” you hum, an excited grin slowly spreading across your lips. You clap both of them gently on the shoulder. “I’ll take it from here. You can go hide wherever you usually do.”

“Thank you, Miss.”

“We knew calling you was the right decision. Please take care of our boss.”

“I’ll do my best.”

The twins skitter off as soon as you let them go, leaving you alone in the foyer. You quietly slip your coat off, hanging it up properly before making your way further into the base. Not knowing exactly where Sylus could be, you check all the obvious places. The bar. His bedroom. The kitchen. All of which are empty.

Finally you come to the den. Each step makes your heart race a little quicker, the thick silence putting you on edge. A drunk person shouldn’t be so hard to find. But as you step into the room, looking over every nook and cranny (despite how large the man in question is), you once again find it empty.

Where on earth could he be?

“My, my, a kitten’s wandered into my home.” You nearly jump out of your skin when an arm curls around your waist, drawing you back against a solid chest. The familiar warmth of his touch is like a balm to your nerves. You glance over your shoulder, gaze meeting a pair of sleepy vermillion eyes, their depths hazy and dark. “You broke our agreement, sweetie.”

You bite back a smile, “Maybe I wouldn’t have had to if a certain someone hadn’t gotten tipsy and scared the boys.”

Sylus huffs, his face dipping to nuzzle into the crook of your neck in an uncharacteristically soft show of affection. His breath is dizzyingly warm against your skin, his nose tracing featherlight along the column of your throat, like he’s breathing you in. It makes you feel dizzy. You clutch onto his arm to anchor yourself, breath hitching when his lips press tenderly against your racing pulse. 

“I’ve missed you.” 

The words are a mere whisper, the sound rumbling through his chest, so deep you can feel it with how his body leans into yours. You let out a shuddering breath, eyes flickering shut.

“I missed you too, Sy.”

So much. You didn’t want to admit to yourself just how much his absence had been wearing you down. Little by little until you could feel the gaping emptiness, like a stream carving a canyon. You were homesick. And it makes your heart flutter to know he felt the same.

“How about we sit, huh?” You suggest softly, and his arms tighten. Turning your head, despite the awkward angle, you press a reassuring kiss to his silvery locks, “I’m not going anywhere, love. I can’t support your weight much longer, though.”

Seemingly appeased, Sylus lets out an understanding hum. In a puff of black smoke, you find yourself settled on the couch, your back pressed into the soft leather with Sylus laying on top of you, his arms still curled around your waist, head resting on your chest. He nuzzles into you like a cat, letting out a long, drawn out sigh.

It’s adorable really. And jarring. While Sylus has never shied away from being affectionate, it’s always been in his rough, teasing way. This feels tender. Vulnerable. While you were originally planning to tease him to no end, you find yourself overwhelmed with a gentle kind of adoration for the man, your fingers softly fussing with his hair.

“You know, I think I like this side of you.”

“Hmmm, is that so?” Sylus mumbles sleepily, his eyes barely open as he gazes up at your face.

“Yah,” you breathe, tracing the relaxed line of his brow, fingers skimming down his cheek to brush the corner of his lips, “You’re acting so cute and docile. Maybe I should start calling you kitten.”

Even sleepy Sylus won’t let that stand. The second your fingers graze his lips, he nips at them, not enough to hurt, but enough to make you snatch them back, inhaling sharply. Heat curls in your chest, matching the heat burning behind his gaze as he flashes you that lazy yet dangerous smile.

“Don’t mistake my affection for passivity, sweetie,” he rumbles, pushing himself up just enough to graze his lips against yours, the smell of expensive alcohol and his rich cologne clouding your senses. “You should be more wary of a man when his restraints are loose. There’s no telling what he might do once you fall for his trap.”

Ah. You hold back a giggle, eyes narrowing up at him with mirth. So that’s what this was all about.

“Trap, huh? Is that what this was? Did you get tipsy and scare the twins on purpose so they’d call me?”

Sylus doesn’t look ashamed for even a second, offering a nonchalant shrug. The way his ears go red, though, tells you that you’ve hit the nail on the head.

“Aw, you did all that just cause you missed me?” Reaching up, you loop your arms around Sylus’ shoulders and draw him even closer. Your lips brush his as you murmur, “You could have just called, pretty bird.”

“And what fun would that be?” Sylus tilts his head, eyes flickering down to your lips. 

He wants to kiss you breathless, the sensation of your lips ghosting against his driving his already muddled thoughts wild. The way you look under him, hair a mess, dressed in such cute pajamas, is a perfectly tempting image, but it’s the fact that he can’t quite think straight that makes him hold back. While getting drunk was certainly a good way to get you here, it was not conducive to anything else he might want.

And simply having you by his side is enough.

You sigh as Sylus presses a sweet kiss to your lips. Unlike most of your kisses, this one isn’t about passion or hunger. Intense, yes, but intense in a way that feels like devotion. It’s reverent and slow, leaving a lingering hum under your skin as he draws away.

“Will you stay?”

Fondly, you rub your nose against his ever so slightly, “Of course.”

“Good.”

Sylus lowers himself back into you, face nuzzling into the crook of your neck. Your arms loop around him, fingers going back to his hair. The silence that envelops you is comforting, the only sound being that of your mingled breath. His warmth covers you so completely, you can’t help but relax, eyelids growing heavier with each second that ticks by. Sylus’ breathing steadily grows deeper, lulling you further and further into sleep. Until you slip under, your lips pressed to his temple as you fall asleep.

And that’s how Luke and Kieran find you the next morning. Cuddled up, with their boss curled around you protectively, like two lounging cats.

You wake up to a notification on your phone.

The picture immediately becomes your new background.

(And secretly, Sylus also makes it his, too.)

---

Hope you enjoyed, my lovely fishies!!!

[tacticalprincess]

when are we getting perv!reader who really just needs a good pounding and nerd!Konig who couldnt care less about pussy and just wants to talk about his silly little guns :(

canonically accurate nerd!könig… being so excited about getting the invite to his house, under the assumption that you’re finally going to be railed into the mattress until you can’t walk by the behemoth of a man you’ve been fantasizing about every night. to be pinned down by the biceps you’ve creamed around your fingers thinking about at long last.

you’re about to pull your top off, only for him to cut you off by opening the latch to the display case for his guns, ready to walk you through his impressive collection in way too much detail. he’s just happy to have a willing audience to pour all his lonely years of stored up knowledge into, oblivious to the way you aren’t soaking any of it up, fidgeting helplessly from your place on his bed as frustration and white-hot need fuzzes around your nerves. you’ve long since stopped contributing to the conversation; pretending that your eyes aren’t honed in on the way his large hands work expertly around the weapon, and the sizable bulge between his hairy, thick thighs was a mission that was quickly abandoned. he isn’t even hard, yet he’s probably the biggest you’ve ever seen, and the fact that he isn’t letting you put it to use is infuriating :(

you’re too cock starved to do anything but blurt out the truth when he asks why you’re being so touchy, trying to convince him that you’d be a much more attentive listener if you had a stuffed mouth. and he reluctantly obliges once the faux tears start flowing from your pretty eyes, too polite to turn down such a distressed girl in need. he takes pity on you, ridding himself of his belt and feeding you his soft dick as an apology. if you’re nice and quiet, he’ll let you fuck yourself to exhaustion on his length just so he can go back to his rambling while you’re too sated to do anything but listen… it’s not the most appropriate teaching strategy, but he has to get you to pay attention somehow!

[imaginedanvrs]

show and tell

masterlist

dark!wandanat x reader. sub!wanda, dom!natasha, dom-turned-sub!reader

word count: 2.2k

warnings: cheating, dubcon, undiscussed voyeurism, exhibitionism, size kink, strap on sex (r giving and recieving), mentions of tribbing, praise, degrading, gun play, threats of violence, rough sex, begging, masturbation

“Too much…y/n- baby,” Wanda panted helplessly. Despite the words she was hardly able to speak, her legs tightened their hold on you whilst you pushed your newest toy deeper. The Sokovian whined as her back arched off of her King sized bed and her fingers clawed into your back. 

  You grinned, gazing down at the beautiful view you had created. “All that power yet you can’t take a few extra inches,” you remarked. “And there I thought this poor neglected pussy would be desperate for it after being left alone for so long,” you continued, drawing your hips back only to thrust in further. She was so close to taking it all, she just needed some extra encouragement. 

  “Please,” she uttered, eyes connecting with your own the way they always did. She was so influenced with lust she was practically at your mercy, so you filled her to the brim with a grunt. “Fuck!” Wanda hissed, nerves ablaze. You felt her slick against your thighs when your pelvises pressed together and acknowledged the signal she was ready. 

  You fucked Wanda like it was the last time you’d do it, because that was always in question. She had an unpredictable life and her marriage was even more so. As though the absence of planning wasn’t challenging enough, the fact that Wanda was married to the world’s best spy (and assassin) was constantly looming over you. 

  “I bet she never makes you feel this way,” you said, watching Wanda’s blissed features as she moaned breathlessly. She looked insatiable when you had her like that, cheeks flushed, hair messed, pupils blown. All from your actions. “You like when I fuck you with this big cock?” You questioned with a smirk, as though you couldn’t hear how wet she was. 

  “I love it,” she cried out, mind frayed. “So good.” She just couldn't help herself. Neither could you. 

  “Better than her?” She met your cocky grin with a mere flash of hesitation before the carefree smile returned. 

  “So competitive,” a voice behind you mused. Your recognition was instant and you didn’t even turn around when you made to scramble out of the bed. You didn’t get the chance. With a distressed whine, Wanda’s magic entangled with your frame and pulled you flush against her until the strap was buried to the hilt once more. 

  “Wanda,” you gasped, unsure if she had heard her wife come in. “Let go,” you hissed as you heard the widow’s boots thud across the floor. Wanda didn’t oblige and instead began to move your hips for you to resume her pleasure. 

  “Stop that,” Natasha demanded and you stilled, unable to escape. “She was just saying how I could never make you feel this way, so by all means, let her go ahead,” she told her wife, gliding her cold fingertips over your hips and pushed you down. You registered Wanda’s hitch at the action. 

  “Please, I-” you tried but the spy wasn’t interested. 

  “Shut the fuck up.” You knew better than to argue with the Russian, especially once she rounded the bed to kiss her wife tenderly. 

  “Welcome home,” Wanda greeted, still very flushed to her wife’s amusement. You eyed the pair warrily, your heart hammering against your chest so hard you felt your ribs bruise. It almost stopped short when Natasha’s glaze turned cold and locked in on you. 

  “Fuck her,” she ordered. You didn’t dare object but had to tear your eyes away as you dutifully began to thrust into the woman beneath you. You focused on Wanda’s sweet noises of pleasure in an attempt to forget your fear, but it was difficult with Natasha’s stalking behind you again. 

  “So you’re the one who’s been fucking my wife while I was saving the world,” she commented casually. “Such a big strap on you too,” Natasha continued as she watched the soaked toy leave Wanda’s pussy only to be driven back in. “Does it make you feel tough to use this on her? How would you feel if I used this nasty cock on you?” You felt Wanda clench around you at her words. 

  “I’m sorry!” You tried again, imagining all of the different weapons that she could be carrying on her. 

  “You’re sorry you were caught,” she corrected. “If you make my wife cum I might consider letting you leave here with all of your limbs,” she considered, delivering a hard smack to your ass. You jolted forwards and heard Wanda cry out, falling into the rhythm Natasha pushed you into in a desperate attempt to please them both. It wasn’t hard, you had fucked Wanda countless times before, but you momentarily regretting bringing such a large toy to use under pressure. Still, it didn’t seem to be an issue for the Sokovian who gasped into your shoulder, peering at her wife with a knowing glint. Unknowingly to you, Natasha winked back with the same smirk she had stripped you of. 

  “ты хорошо себя чувствуешь, дорогая?” You frowned at the Russian’s words, knowing they were directed at Wanda but still feeling like you should know what they say. 

  “Wha-” you turned to question Natasha only to be met with the barrel of her handgun pointed at your head. You instantly cowered away but knew that even if you had tried to leap out of the bed again, it was pointless against the assassin. 

  “так хорошо!” Wanda answered, entirely unphased by the weapon she happened to be in the firing range of. Natasha hummed, seemingly pleased with her partner’s response.

  “I’m not gonna hurt you,” she told you pitifully. “As long as you do what you came here to do.” You figured there wasn’t much point protesting any longer, so you turned back to the woman beneath you and tried to pin all of your focus on her as you usually wouldn't without prompt. Even with a gun pointed at your head, you couldn’t stop admiring how much Wanda looked like some tainted angel that had succumbed to her desires. 

  “Don’t stop,” she called to you. She was breathless, desperate and despite her partner’s looming presence, entirely under your influence. You fucked Wanda relentlessly, just the way you knew she went crazy for until it became hard for you not to grow smug at the sounds you were drawing from her infront of her wife. Soon, the gun became a lingering thought and Wanda returned to the forefront of your mind as she had a habit of doing. 

  “I’m gonna cum,” she announced as your hips slapped against her own. You felt the tension in the room rise accordingly but didn’t let it affect you as you drove your fake cock into Wanda’s pussy harder. 

  “That’s it, fuck,” you encouraged, feeling the harness rub against you with every thrust that Wanda tried to meet. She dug her nails into your back as she came, soaking the toy that she clung to with such might that you had a challenge fucking her through her high. You rocked your hips against her as you coaxed her through her orgasm and felt yourself become impossibly wetter. Her slick was running down both your thighs and you wanted nothing more than to throw the harness off and rub your cunt against her ruined one. Perhaps you might have if it weren’t for the eyes on the both of you. 

  You grinned down at Wanda, your arrogance gradually making its way back until Natasha cut it short by dragging the harness off from your waist, as though she could read your mind. For a moment, you really did wonder if she was going to have you do what you were thinking of, until you noticed her tightening the harness to her own hips with practised ease. Somehow, seeing it on the widow made the strap look bigger. 

  You snapped your head back to Wanda when she began to shuffle herself out from under you and up towards the headboard that she rested against with heavy eyes. You made to follow until the barrel of the gun was pressed into the centre of your back and you were forced back down into the mattress with a grunt. 

  “You think we’re done?” Natasha scoffed. “What do you think, detka?” You peered up at Wanda with wide eyes only to see her fingers had returned to the space between her legs that was still red and leaking. The mischievous glint in her eyes was one you didn’t trust one bit. Your instincts were right. 

  “Make her take it,” the Sokovian husked. 

  “как скажешь,” Natasha replied simply, tossing the unnecessary gun to the side so that she could place both hands on you waist and lift your ass into the air. 

  “Wait,” you tried, knowing how large the toy was and how tight the fit would be. It was rare that you were on the receiving end so you were sure you weren’t ready for such a toy. At least you had worked Wanda up to it. Her wife didn’t seem to care because barely a second passed until you felt the head nudge at your exposed pussy. You could show your fear as much as you wanted, but you all heard the sound of the toy against your wetness. You whined into the bed, accepting you were made. 

  “I bet you wanted this from the start,” Natasha mused, pushing the toy past your reluctant entrance. You held the sheets in a death grip and cried out into the mattress at the immediate stretch. “You just need to be put in your place. Made to feel like the bitch you are,” she spat, pushing inch after inch into your dripping pussy without any consideration. 

  “Please!” You wailed inaudibly, needing a moment to adjust to the intrusion. Apparently you hadn’t earned that yet, because Natasha forced the rest of the toy in with a low groan that was overshadowed by your pleas of protest. It felt like you were being split apart, walls stretched to accommodate the cock you had such a thrill using just minutes prior. Needless to say, that power had been stripped. 

  “What happened, tough guy? Is it too much?” The Russian laughed. You registered Wanda’s breathy moans picking up again. “Too bad.” She drew her hips back only to slam them back into you along with every inch of the toy. You whined, high in your throat, and tried to close your legs but Natasha held them firmly apart. “No, no. Take it all. It’s only fair,” she pointed out, slamming herself against you. 

  The pain was prominent and stubborn, enhanced with every sharp thrust into your cunt that was soaked beyond belief, and you were powerless against it. Your slick only served to allow Natasha to fuck you as hard as she wished as your walls obediently parted for her to reach your depths in ways you had never felt. With that, the pleasure was finally able to peek through the haze of pain. 

  “Such a fucking whore letting me use you like this,” Natasha hissed but you hardly registered her over your burning sensations. She grabbed ahold of your hair and hauled your head up enough for your neck to ache and forced you to stare at her blissed out wife who sat pleasuring herself at your defeat. “You like being turned into a brainless fucktoy?” She asked. You didn’t respond as you looked at Wanda, knowing it would counteract with everything you had ever uttered to her but the harsh slap to your ass rid you of that final secret. 

  “Yes,” you whimpered. At the confession, Wanda fingered herself harder though it was clearly nothing compared to what her wife had you subject to. 

  Natasha’s thrusts were harsh, deliberately pushing as far inside you as she possibly could each time to make you bask in how large the toy was and how much it filled you up. You were stretched out perfectly around the toy, reshaped to take it as much as Natasha pleased. She was cruel, etching the words of ‘slut’ and ‘dumb’ into your mind as she ruined you in every sense of the word. 

  “I know you’re getting close, you’re clenching around me like a desperate bitch in heat,” Natasha told you, feuling Wanda’s arousal. 

  “Make her cum, make her know how good it feels,” the Sokovian called. Natasha huffed.

  “You’re lucky she’s here,” she muttered, clearly having planned on leaving you hanging despite the ruthlessness of the way she pounded into you. 

  Your moans grew along with Wanda’s and a matter of moments later, you were cumming around the unforgiving cock as hard as she had, pushing your own face into the bed to avoid meeting her eye in your moment of complete helplessness. You pushed back against Natasha as you came, desperate to have as much of her inside of you to cling to as your mind went blank. Your chest heaved and the world went quiet as your orgasm rushed through you. It was so much. Too much, all at once. 

  Once the intense waves finally finished crashing over you, you felt a pair of hands lift you up and place you on another body. You couldn't place either of them, too frazzled to tax your brain with the task, but you appreciated the warmth regardless and didn't fight it when a red haze clouded your mind and pulled you into a state of measured unconsciousness.

[auroralwriting]

the gun

spencer reid x genius!bau!reader

oh yes, oh yes, oh yes, they both reached for the gun, the gun, the gun…

"you just needed to prove to Spencer, once and for all, that you had all the skills to be the best agent, the best genius."

word count: 2.3k

warnings: cm violence, blood, enemies to lovers, kinda rushed im sorryyyy, fem reader slightly mentioned

a continuation of this story can be found here

Spencer and you always competed. He had an eidetic memory, you had a photographic.

The difference between you two was anything you ever saw, read, you held in long-term memory. Spencer’s, though, resided in short term. However, Spencer was also an autodidact, meaning he could teach himself anything. You also had a vast emotional intelligence. You had such strong empathy, you could detect any micro-detail anyone displayed, making you the perfect lie-detector one that even Hotch couldn’t evade.

Spencer was Jason Gideon’s special boy. Gideon helped Spencer make his way in the BAU. You were David Rossi’s special girl, him noticing your skills from a young age when he met you during a case. He guided you to make all the best choices, leading you to the BAU as well. It took a few years, timing and all, but you got there.

When Dave transferred to Quantico’s BAU, he requested your transfer as well. He thought you would mesh well with the team. More specifically, he assumed you and Spencer would become a genius duo; totally unstoppable.

Oh, how wrong he was. It was from the moment you’d corrected Spencer on some statistic he spewed, you both became enemies forced to co-exist on the same team. There was never a civil moment, always some fight. It was sad, too. You remembered the first time you saw him, you were struck by how cute he was. Too bad he decided to hate you before you got a chance.

Vividly, you remembered the most intense fight you both had.

“So someone with a medical degree,” Hotch muttered. “That’s got to be impossible.”

“It’s more likely that have a nursing degree.” Spencer replied. “We’d be looking at around one hundred eighty thousand people a year. If our unsub is a new graduate, that’s the numbers we’d be looking through.”

You shook your head, “It’s actually one hundred fifty seven thousand. Also, narrow it down to nursing degrees in New York, and you get around eight thousand. Eleven percent were men, so around six hundred. Lower it even more to those who don’t have any family members, most likely from group homes, you can get maybe seventy?”

oh, yes

Garcia clacked away at her keyboard, “My baby’s got it! Seventy two people. If we’re looking at NYU specifically, thirteen.”

Pride filled your system. It was fulfilling when you were able to get things right. Spencer, on the other hand, wasn’t too happy about that.

“You know, nobody asked your opinion.” He scoffed.

“It isn’t opinion, Reid. It’s purely fact, ones you should probably get right.” Your reply had Spencer clenching his fists.

How dare you insult his intelligence? His IQ was much larger than yours, you weren’t one to speak on that. “Maybe you should focus on the case instead of trying to be a people pleaser,” Spencer sneered your way.

His reply made you roll your eyes, “At least I can tell what people want. You’re oblivious, Reid.”

oh, yes

Slowly, the two of you began to go back and forth, your voices raising. Before the situation blew up, Hotch stepped in, trying to mediate. However, Spencer mumbled something under his breath, something you couldn’t just let go. It hurt, stung like a bee, and you weren’t going to let him walk away feeling victorious.

“At least my mentor didn’t up and leave me.” you snapped. “He’s still with me, he didn’t just vanish with a stupid little note as a dingy goodbye.”

Spencer had paused, face dropping. You read him like a book, you’d gone too far. He showed minuscule signs of distress, grief, sadness. The room was silent, no one quite knew what to say.

oh, yes

“Reid, I-”

“Save it.”

Spencer had walked away, leaving you to feel shameful of your words. Rossi just squeezed your shoulder. The man knew you didn’t mean it.

they both

Since then, it was like the two of you were on each other’s cases, constantly bickering and arguing. Now, you were almost subconsciously battling each other for the genius role of the team. Was there any need to? No, not at all, but your fights had become not a battle, but a war.

You stood outside the bank with your team. “They have hostages,” You identified, attempting to peer inside. “There’s no way we can go in. It’s a suicide-murder mission.”

oh, yes

“There’s gotta be a way,” JJ shook her head. “Maybe there’s another way in.”

“It doesn’t look like it,” Derek sighed.

After a few hours, Will made the decision to go inside. You had to help hold back JJ as he walked in. Hearing the bullets made you sick. You physically had to double over, holding back the tears. It suddenly hit you how dire the situation was. You went back to the van with the team. No one really knew what to say.

"Did you see where he was shot?" JJ asked. "Is he alive or dead, Garcia?"

Penelope's breath was shaky, "I don't know."

"He was wearing a vest." Emily reasoned. "He might be okay."

JJ gave a smile, but it was one of disbelief. "Might be," She muttered, shaking her head in reply.

It was then that the team decided to go in. You shoved your gun in your holster, "I'll take first point," You offered. "Check and see if Will's okay. I'll try and manipulate them into letting me go to him." Hotch nodded. With your knowledge of psychology and your emotional intelligence, Hotch knew you could do it.

they both

"L/n, it's too dangerous." You heard Spencer say over the phone. "Just wait for me to tell you where to go in."

You rolled your eyes, "Reid, I'm not stupid. I've handled multiple hostage situations."

Spencer didn't reply. You liked that. This was the first time you'd be able to prove yourself without Spencer's help. This was honestly just a way for you to prove you were the better of the two. Your actions were motivated by the desire to be the best; a classic narcissistic move. You weren't a narcissist, though. You just needed to prove to Spencer, once and for all, that you had all the skills to be the best agent, the best genius.

Oddly enough, hostages flooded out of the bank as you made your way back outside. Maybe Will was alive and managed to get them all out. Once none more came out, you and two other cops began to make your way inside stealthily.

Right as you got in the middle of the bank, you heard Rossi's panicked voice over your comms, "Abort, abort!"

oh, yes

There was no time to reply. It all happened so suddenly. You heard the explosion before you felt it. It was hard to breathe. You couldn't see, hear. It slowly registered that there was a bomb, and it went off.

they both reached for

You had no clue where you had been thrown to. Everything felt cold, really cold. A loud ringing filled your ears as you slowly sat up. You touched your head, pulling back to feel stickiness on your fingers. Your vision was blurry, but you knew it was blood. You had to get out of the building. You needed help, medics, your team. Was anyone else in your team inside yet?

they both reached for the gun

A grunt left your lips as you stood up. You felt your legs give out under you, and you went down again. The desire to live was stronger than your physical weakness, and you stood up again. It was so dusty and hazy that you couldn't see. You leaned on the nearest wall for support, slowly using it to try and find your way out of the building. All that you heard in your head was get out, survive, get out, survive.

After what felt like ages, you felt a breeze against your skin. You followed it, hoping it would lead out, and it did. The light was harsh on your eyes as you tried to scan the area. It was then you saw Spencer and Hotch-- what was Spencer doing here? He was still at the BAU last you'd checked. Maybe the blast knocked you out cold.

Trudging your way over, you weakly called out. "Aaron, Spencer,"

the gun

Spencer knew he heard his name. He looked up from the blueprints of the building to see you, blood covering different parts of your body, your skin covered in debris and dust. You had limp, and your eyes were blown out. "Oh my god," he muttered, running over to you.

the gun

The genius took your in his arms as you fell into him, "How'd you get here?" you asked. "What's for dinner?"

Spencer took notice of your confusion as he allowed you to lean on him. He took your face in his hands, "Y/n, look at me. Focus on me,"

the gun

You couldn't directly look at him. Your eyes darted all over the place. "Where's Rossi? Did he go in?"

"No, Rossi's okay." Spencer leaned over his shoulder, "We need a medic!" He yelled, quickly turning his attention back to you. "It's okay, you're okay."

oh, yes

"I can't feel anything," you breathed out, "That can't be normal. Is that normal? Spencer, am I dying?"

oh, yes

Spencer shook his head, "You're okay, it's okay."

"I can't die," You softly whimpered. "I'm sorry, Spencer. 'M so mean to you, I don't mean to be."

Deep down, Spencer knew you meant what you were saying. The fear of dying without getting your true feelings out always lead to admissions of the truth. "I know, I know," Spencer smoothed your hair. "I don't hate you, I don't. You're going to be okay." Spencer slowly became anxious as he noticed the amount of blood seeping from your head. "Look at me, please, keep talking to me."

"'M sorry," You muttered, feeling your eyes grow heavy. Spencer's face began to fade as you collapsed in his arms.

Spencer felt his breathing grow heavy as he held you tightly. "Medic! She's-- oh, god, Help!"

they both reached for the gun.

A steady beeping was the first thing you heard as you woke up. The light was a blinding white, and you let out a groan at it. Your body hurt like hell, and your head was pounding.

"Shh, shh. It's okay, here, let me just--"

The white lights went out and all that was left was the stream of daylight coming through the windows, along with a lamp that was a warmer light. It was much more comfortable that way. You quickly guessed you were in a hospital. The beeping, white lights, smell of rubbing alcohol that you just identified.

"How do you feel?"

Spencer. You turned your head to look at him. His face held deep concern. He was holding your hand. "I--" You paused, considering his question. "I feel like shit."

He let out a soft chuckle, "Yeah. You kind of got exploded." That's right, the bomb.

"Oh, Will, the team, are they okay?" You softly asked.

Spencer nodded, "Everyone's okay, we got the unsubs. It's all okay now."

You remembered Spencer's words. You should have waited to go in. If you had waited, maybe you wouldn't be in this situation right now. "I should've listened to you." You stated weakly. "You were right. I was being stupid."

"Hey, no," Spencer quickly interrupted. "You were doing your job."

"I wasn't," you shook your head. "I wanted to prove myself. I-I wanted.. to show that I didn't just do victimology and simple hostage relief situations. I wanted to prove myself like you have." You stopped, sucking in a pained breath. You felt your eyes become glassy. "I wanted to prove to everyone I was just as good as you."

Spencer felt his heart break at your words. You both knew overall, he was smarter. It never occurred to him that your constant bickering was to prove yourself, and not to prove him wrong. "You're better." Spencer decided to say. "I mean, I can't relate to our victims, hell, our unsubs the way you can."

"Spencer,"

"I'm serious." He continued. "You're so important to this team. You-you push us to be better." Spencer cleared his throat, "You push me to be better."

You stared at Spencer blankly for a moment, "I never told you that I like this haircut."

Spencer gave you a slightly surprised look. "Yeah?"

"Yeah," You hummed. "It makes you look, I don't know, less like Einstein and more like, uh, a really smart James Dean."

"James Dean," Spencer repeated, "I've never gotten that one before. Are those meds talking right now?"

You shook your head slowly, "Probably the clearest I've thought in a while." You replied, causing Spencer to smile. "Why did you stay with me?"

Spencer paused for a moment, "I wanted to make sure you were okay. I know we bicker a lot. Well, more than a lot. Probably several times a day, but I still care about you. I-I was.. really scared for you. I don't think I could forgive myself if I let you walk in there and you'd died."

"It wouldn't have been your fault," You tried. Spencer just shook his head.

"It would have been. I should've rationalized it with you. When I saw you, I just thought, 'What have I been doing this whole time? Have I really been wasting my breath arguing with you when we could've made the best team'? I remember when Rossi first introduced you, I was like, 'No way someone this pretty is doing this', when you should've been some model or something." Spencer rambled. He did that, paired with hand fidgeting, when he was nervous. He rambled as he played with your fingers.

You took a breath in, hoping for the best. "Hey, maybe we could, uh, go to one of those team based trivia nights at O'Keefe's?"

"Are-are you asking me out?" Spencer asked.

"Only if you're saying yes." You responded. "I, uh, maybe thought we could start over."

Spencer gave a chuckle, "Yeah, trivia night sounds good. I'd like a retry at this. Maybe we're, uh, meant to be more than just a team."

You smiled at him, knowing that a simple friendship wouldn't be highest point of your new relationship with the genius.

[kurooh]

FAST N FURIOUS ! — JUJUTSU KAISEN

⊹₊˚. what kind of car sex does he like to have? maybe on the hood of the car, in the backseat, or while he’s driving?

⟡ feat. gojo satoru, geto suguru, nanami kento, fushiguro toji, kamo choso.

⟡ warnings: 18+ content (mdni), f! reader, semi-public sex, sexual activities involving vehicles, squirting, oral [f&m giving/receiving], dirty talk.

⟡ xoxo, juno: thank you for 2k!! <3 btw gojo gets hard as a rock if you suck on his fingers

— GOJO SATORU.

“just enjoy yourself, pretty girl..” satoru whispers, lightly pinching one of your asscheeks as his cock pistons in and out of you wetly. “mmmh, i’ve been wanting to fuck you all over this car since the day we met.”

your puffy pussy squeezes down on his cock tightly, and he groans, eyes rolling back as his hips still momentarily. “been wanting you to, satoru.. i-i love it when you fuck me deep like this, don’t stop, please!” you wiggle your ass against his pelvis, and he inhales sharply as he starts up the same pace again. the tempo is brutal, hungry, sloppy with all the wild need behind it.

the white hood of satoru’s car gleams in the moonlight, the only car in the vacant grocery store parking lot. you’re bent right over the hood, nipples pebbled from the cold, smooth surface and friction of your body sliding forward with each of his frenzied thrusts.

satoru had just returned from a two week business trip on the other side of the country, and you’d been awaiting his return, eager to be with him and needy for all he had to give you. today, he had been too tired to do much, so you went out and had a little dinner in the car before driving through the almost empty city.

under the cover of darkness, one kiss had led to another, causing you and satoru to end up disheveled in the backseat before he was opening the doors of his car and pulling you right outside. then you were being bent over the hood and he was inside you.

your hips bang against the side of the car as he carelessly thrusts against you, cock slamming deep and leaking so much precum you feel it dripping from your hole and collecting at your clit before falling to the asphalt below.

“g-god, nghhh— i’m gonna fucking cum, baby.” satoru’s growing frantic as he pushes closer and closer to the edge. his thighs are trembling, pressed against the backs of your own, and he absolutely does not know where to put himself.

“w-where do you want it?” he gasps, voice ragged as blue eyes squeeze shut. just the sound of his needy moans and sensation of his thickening cock has your tight hole clamping down on him as your arms collapse beneath you and you fall against the hood.

“e-everywhere, satoru!” you demand, whining loudly. your mind’s too jumbled to specify where, all fucked out on his thick cock.

satoru pulls out, gritting his teeth as he aims his cock over you and shoots globs of sticky cum all over your asscheeks and lower back. “damn, you look so fucking amazing like this,” he grunts, finally catching his breath as the last droplet of cum rolls down the length of his cock.

“toru, wanna lick it up,” you turn your head, pupils blown and tits bouncing ever so slightly. the tone of your voice is velvety and unashamed, which has him swiping his fingers over your skin and lifting them towards your mouth. your plush lips wrap around his wet fingers, and you moan lowly as you greedily swallow all the cum from his skin, sucking lightly. when satoru yanks your hair to get your attention, you look up with innocent eyes, noticing his creased brow and flushed cheeks.

“o-okay, princess. don’t get me hard again, fuck.”

— GETO SUGURU.

“i don’t care, babygirl,” suguru murmurs, voice hushed against your inner thighs. “seats are waterproof, did it myself.”

“i-i don’t wanna mess up your car, suguru,” you grit your teeth, sounding distressed at the thought of him not eating you out and also because you’re worried about soaking the leather.

“trust me, sweetheart. just relax, and enjoy yourself.” suguru’s reassurance has your limbs loosening, once racing mind finally slowing down. his large fingers push inside you, and all you can do is whine his name.

sometimes, on occasion, when he would eat you out, you’d squirt all over the place. when he’d practically ripped off your shorts and panties after you’d been fooling around together in the backseat, you realized what could happen. his seats are leather, in pristine condition. you wouldn’t want to destroy them by squirting all over, right?

“squirt all over me, and the car.” suguru demands, lightly slapping your fluttering pussy.

you moan, pushing a hand into his unbound hair and pulling as you push his face into your pussy. your heart’s pounding in your ears when he moans into you, fingers curling deep as he sucks your clit roughly.

“sugu, harder!”

suguru obliges, scalp tingling from how hard you’re yanking on his hair. his free hand rests on your thigh, tensing slightly as he keeps your trembling legs open.

the car is warm, and you feel dizzy as your orgasm builds beneath his harsh tongue. your tits jolt when your back straightens, white hot pleasure zapping through you like lightning. suguru stops curling his fingers against your g-spot, and starts to scissor them in and out of you.

“suguru!” you squeal above the squelching, wet sounds of your fluttering pussy, “mmmh, i think ‘m gonna—”

“do it for me, baby,” suguru groans, looking up at you from where he’s positioned himself at your pussy.

all you can do is moan, head falling back when the tension and pressure inside you finally reaches its limit. liquid gushes out of you, spraying all over suguru’s face and dampening his hair, along with the leather of the seats around you.

your chest heaves as your eyes open, gasping at the sight before you. your boyfriend and his seats are covered in your squirt, and he’s leaning towards your pussy again to lick up the mess.

“mm mm,” he forces your legs open when you try to close them in an effort to deter overstimulation, “you’re gonna do that for me again, sweetheart.”

— NANAMI KENTO.

“ken— kento!” you wail as he tosses your legs to the sides, opting to jerk his hips up into you after you said you were getting tired.

“shh, it’s okay, angel. i’ll fuck you till you fall asleep on the ride home.”

you and kento had been driving back from a dinner date across the city when his hand on your thigh slipped beneath your skirt. he was driving, and rubbing your clit until you were squirming and cumming in your panties.

“oh, don’t stop!” your chest heaves, mouth falling open in shock at the rush of overwhelming pleasure coursing through each and every one of your veins. your mind and thoughts are entirely jumbled, centered around kento only: his heavy breaths, the way he feels inside you, his body, his face, twisted in pleasure..

“fill me up ‘nd make me yours,” tears flow down your face after a few particularly hard thrusts into the deepest places inside of you.

“i absolutely will, angel,” kento grunts, his voice raspy as he arches beneath you, hands flying to your hips to keep you in place on his cock.

beads of sweat roll down his temples as he looks up at you, breathless at the sight of your beautiful face. you don’t even notice, too enraptured by his thick cock head punching into your g-spot.

“ngh, cumming.” he can barely choke out anything else as his spine straightens and his hot cum pours inside of you. you’re breathless as you pull his sensitive cock from your hole, positioning yourself on your hands and knees.

“angel?” kento sits up slowly, disappointed he’s no longer inside you. “what’re you thinking?”

“jus’ want a taste, ken.” and with that you’re licking his cum and your wetness from his cock, and he finds it so nasty yet so fucking sexy at the same time.

— FUSHIGURO TOJI.

“already told you to take it deep, princess. don’t make me help you, i’m fuckin’ driving.” toji grunts, both hands white knuckled on the wheel as you choke on his cock, taking it deeper into your throat.

spit drips down the small bit of his length that you can’t fully fit into your mouth, pooling at the base before further trickling to his balls. you feel the car speed up when his big palm lands on top of your head, and he pushes down slightly.

“this ‘s how i want you suckin’ my cock,” toji hisses, briefly yet harshly slamming you up and down on his lap. you gag, spit bubbling from the corners of your mouth and pouring onto him.

you try to nod in understanding but he pushes you all the way to his base until you whimper out a “yes, toji.” using your mouth like this after you’d mouthed off to him all day is just too fucking good, he thinks, smirking faintly as he looks out at the road.

like a good girl, you suck him exactly the way he showed you, gripping the arm rest for support as you bob your head on him. toji’s thighs tense, and the car speeds up further.

“take it just like that, doll..” he rasps before chuckling, “shit, nghh, i’m gonna have to pull over.”

before he can even finish what he’s saying the signal’s on and he’s cutting across a few lanes, rushing to pull over before he ends up explaining to the insurance company that he was getting a blowjob while driving. behind you, other vehicles honk loudly, tires scraping to a halt as this asshole finally makes it to the side to pull over, wheels hitting the curb.

the jolt of the car has you gagging, his cock going down your throat. toji’s fingers slip into your hair, twisting it as he drags you up and down his cock mercilessly. tears pour down your cheeks as you look up at him; his face is scrunched in pleasure, free hand gripping the door.

“swallow it all,” is all he can get out as hot cum shoots out of his cock, filling your throat. when he feels your throat squeezing him as you swallow, his deeper groans start to get just a little higher.

toji doesn’t let you pull away until his cock is throbbing with overstimulation, and you’re both thoroughly fucked out. he exhales before sucking in a breath, sounding exhausted. but he turns towards you, arching a brow as a smirk finds its way onto his face.

“get in the backseat, doll. gotta show you how much of a good girl you’ve been.”

— KAMO CHOSO.

“oh god, oh god— your pussy feels so fucking good!” choso babbles, hips snapping into you as your name falls from his lips over and over again.

the fingerprints on the car window smear as your hands slide down the glass, fingers curling into your palms. tears well in your eyes, close to spilling down your face; it’s too much and not enough.

“choso,” you murmur, cheeks burning with heat as you decide to experiment with some dirty talk. “y-your cock’s perfect for me, baby.”

the brunet whines loudly, blood pounding in his ears as he desperately fucks you, ready to fill up your perfect pussy. sometimes, choso feels like it’s his, but he’s too shy to even ask you or tell you it’s his. instead, he opts to say something a little simpler, fucking you faster and deeper to spur himself on.

“fuckkk.. you’re mine, aren’t you?” he means to sound domineering and strong, but he just sounds needy and in need of some affirmation. luckily, you don’t hear him too clearly.

“what was that, cho?” you bite down on your lower lip, hoping to silence your own sounds to hear him better this time.

a switch flips and choso’s mumbling your name, wrapping an arm around your middle as his muscled chest presses into your back firmly. his hand slides towards your throat, gripping slightly as he groans into your ear.

“i said you’re mine,” a harsh nip to your shoulder has you crying out and shaking beneath him, gripping onto the car door tightly as your pussy squeezes down on him.

choso recognizes the signs of an impending orgasm, drawing his hips back and slamming forwards deeply, heavy balls smacking into your clit. “c-cum on me, baby..” he whispers, barely holding it together.

your knees nearly collapse beneath you when you cum with a sharp whine, hole clenching and drawing out his own orgasm. choso spills inside of you with a choked groan, back to his mumbling about how good you feel as he rides it out.

“thank you,” he falls on top of you with a shaky sigh, obviously tired. his weight has you falling too, the both of you coming together to cuddle in the backseat, staring at the smeared, dirty glass.

“you know, baby, i’m never cleaning those sexy handprints off.”

[vanillakook]

THE ROOMMATE ꔫ - JJK

synopsis: your hot roommate brings out the dirtiest side of you

parings: roommate!jk x pervy!roommate!reader

warnings: mature language and content, spying, solo masturbation, lewd thoughts, slight jealously, underwear stealing, abnormal behavior (on both parts) mentions of pillow humping, wet dreams, fantasies, etc.

genre: smut, drabble

word count: 660

a/n: quick little one shot as a thank you for all the love you’ve been showing me, i promise to keep writing the filthiest works for you guys <3

pervy!roommate!reader who has jungkook completely fooled. he thinks his cute housemate is so innocent. what he doesn’t know is that you’re a deranged slut that’s been yearning for him since you’ve laid eyes on him.

pervy!roommate!reader who’s attraction to jungkook starts off as something sane. your behavior progresses into stuffing your pussy to the thought of him, stealing his used boxers and trotting around in them when he’s not home, and staining the same pillows he lays his head on with your sticky cum.

pervy!roommate!reader who goes brain dead whenever jungkook is speaking to her. whether it’s about your half of the rent or what groceries you want him to go get, the only thing you can think about his having his dick down your throat.

pervy!roommate!reader who wakes up with her panties clinging to her pussy from the wet dreams she has about jungkook, desperately wishing to make the images of getting destroyed by him into a reality. every morning is a constant routine of rubbing your sensitive clit, hoping he’s listening to your soft cries for him on the other side.

pervy!roommate!reader who feels like she hits the jackpot when she catches jungkook fisting his huge cock in his room. the door is cracked open just the right amount to where she can spy. it’s so wrong to invade his privacy, she has time to walk away, to shut his door even. instead she feels her fingers creeping up to cup her breast, rolling it around while her teeth sink into her bottom lip. this could be her moment, her chance to finally relieve his dick that looks like it’ll burst any second if it doesn’t have a cunt squeezing around it. instead she falls back, rubbing one out while watching him before going back to bed.

pervy!roommate!reader who’s visibly upset every time jungkook brings a girl over, dramatically slamming her bedroom door and making noises around the apartment to disturb him and his company. suddenly she needs jungkook for every little issue she has which causes his little hookup to dip out on him. he’d be more upset if his roommate wasn’t enough eye candy for him to get off to alone. either way he’s satisfied.

pervy!roommate!reader who’s scent on jungkooks pillows doesn’t go unnoticed. he’s breathing you in every night in the spot where he lays his head. your aromas make his dick stand up, aching and hurting from neglect. he could call someone over, he has girls lined up and waiting for him. yet the only thing that sounds satisfying is his pretty little roommate. he thinks he’s going crazy when he hears your small pants and moans of his name with the wet, sloppy sounds of your cunt following after.

pervy!roommate!reader who’s panties start going missing and popping up with globs of white substances in them and notices her roommate avoiding her more often. jungkook is suddenly too busy to hang out and too busy to have dinner with you. jungkook starts getting risky, leaving his door open while pumping his cock. he only does it when you’re not home, just in hopes that you’d walk in and drop to your knees when you saw him struggling to cum without your touch.

pervy!roommate!reader who’s nerves are running rampant at her and jungkooks game of cat and mouse. when he sends her a “we need to talk” text various scenarios and thoughts begin to go through her head. yet nothing could prepare her for jungkook’s distressed expression as she sits in front of him on the sofa and he runs a tired hand over his face while hovering over her. her eyes widen, watching the bulge in his pants grow to an inhuman size. and she sure as hell wasn’t prepared for his next proposal, something she thought she’d never hear from him.

“doll, as much as i love licking your slick off my pillows how about you use my cock from now on? yeah?”

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