#hesitantly slides into

[yanakkie]

Well, shit. IF my memories ARE IN FACT TRUE and not just headcanon:

That would mean Unova, in my timeline, reworked it’s Pokemon League system to be primarily double battles. I have no way of confirming if this memory is real or not if I’m just producing the most fire fanfiction material rn, But:

That would mean Unova battles would’ve started focusing primarily on double battles instead of single battles. Like that wouldn’t just be SPECIFICALLY for the Pokemon League, Gym Leaders would’ve had to found a way to make it work for their Gyms. Solo Pokemon battles would be rare but not impossible to find. Like, hypothetically, if my memory is accurate.

But HOW? If Cilan WAS a duo-champion with me, how did he reach that point? I can accept for absolute certainty that he’d make it through the Pokemon League with no problems, he was an incredible Pokemon Trainer. But what, did we both tie and they didn’t know what to do? I guess I could see that happening?

Honestly

I’ve been talking a lot with someone else from the Pokekin Universe (they’re really fucking awesome) and they write a lot of fanfiction which helps them connect with their memories better. Maybe I’ll do that too. Even if I’m filling in the gaps in some areas, writing is sort of like a meditative practice. Plus, this would be SO FUN TO THINK ABOUT AND THINK ABOUT HOW IT PERMANENTLY CHANGES THE WAY UNOVA GOES ABOUT BATTLING!!

Me, in my canon, not thinking about the region-wide ramifications of what I’m about to say: Okay so like we tied, so doesn’t that just make us both Champions?

OR SOMETHING SIMILAR IDK

Feels like the Pokemon League Association in Unova wouldn’t easily agree to something like that because its such a fucking gigantic shift in the norm

[firstfluke]

Chapter Thirteen of my long Jegulus fic Syncopation is now up!

“Morning,” James says when Regulus squints up at him, dazed expression dissolving in a fluttering blink. “Hi,” he croaks, brows pulled together. “Why do you look surprised to see me?” James smiles, runs a finger from one furrowed brow to the next. “I’m not.” “Then stop looking at me like that. You just woke up. You’re gonna have a permanent wrinkle here by the time you’re like, twenty-two.”

[devilcantspeell]

No way it’s me 2

Shapeshifter persona means yay I can make alt forms I will be too lazy to consistently draw ever again but I’ll try

[rafeysbunny]

‧₊˚ ⋅ i'll show you, rafe cameron

stepbro!rafe x fem!reader

masterlist

synopsis. in which your stepbrother kindly offers to show you porn for the first time.

warnings. stepbro!rafe, innocent!reader (but she's not an airhead), virgin!reader, smut, fingering, rafe putting in just the tip, oral sex (fem receiving), rafe licks his own creampie.

word count. 4k.

author's note. idea by @matts1andonly. english isn't my first language so there might be spelling mistakes, don't hold it against me. enjoy!

it's past midnight when you finally slide out of your bedroom without making a sound. you have been waiting patiently for your mom and ward to go to bed so you can do this without risking getting caught. wheezie is already asleep too, sarah is out with john b somewhere, and rafe left the house earlier, not telling anyone where to, so you know he's going to arrive late, as always.

it's the perfect moment.

rafe's room is down the hallway, so you make your way there quietly not to wake anyone, your barefoot feet making soft footstep sounds when you walk. once there, you open the door as carefully as you possibly can, knowing it creaks every time it gets open. this time, thanks to god, it does not.

you manage to sneak into the dormitory unnoticed, then shut the door behind you. the place is dark, only a faint glimmer of moonlight coming in through his curtains, but you want to lay low, so you don't turn on the lights. by all means, the dim lighting is enough for you to spot what you're looking for.

rafe's mac, laying there on his desk.

what's the point behind all of this? you might be wondering. well, let me answer you real quick. turns out, this handsome, muscled college guy has invited you on a date. problem is, you have never been on a date. you haven't even hold hands with a guy romantically before, much less kissed or fucked one. you simply refuse to come off as a prude, which honestly you are, but that dream of a man doesn't need to know that.

and that's why you have decided that it is a good idea to break into your stepbrother's bedroom and borrow his laptop, since yours broke last week, to watch porn in it for the first time.

well, now that you hear it out loud, it probably sounded better in your head. anyways...

you stroll towards the desk with languid steps and sit down on rafe's chair, small hands reaching hesitantly to open the laptop. you turn it on and the screen light illuminates your pretty face right away. you swear your fingers are shaking a little bit as you open up the browser and type 'porn videos' on the search bar.

somehow, you feel like you are doing something wrong, and you can't seem to shake the guilt away. either way, you don't back out. you click the enter button and, after just a few seconds, a million search results pop up. honestly, you don't know where to start, so you click on the first one, which redirects you to a website called pornhub.

the home page is full of videos, the first thing to catch your attention being the obscene thumbnails of each one of them. your cheeks flush a deep shade of red. you read some of the titles as you bite your lip nervously, realising most of them contain the word 'stepsister' in them, and you wonder if that is the only content posted on this page.

how innocent of you not to know that the website is making recommendations based on your stepbro's most searched tag.

before things escalate further, you spot rafe's airpods max sitting there on the desk and decide to grab them, connecting them to the laptop and putting them on —this way you can make sure no one overhears anything. after that, you spend a few more minutes scrolling through the page, during which you discover that there's a ton of categories to choose from.

how are you supposed to know which one to pick?

you are so invested in your little research, headphones canceling the noise, that you don't hear neither rafe opening the front door nor him walking up the stairs and, surely, don't notice him standing behind you until he speaks. and it's too late by then.

"the fuck are you doing, sweetheart?" he blurts, complete and utterly shocked to see his naive stepsister fuckin' watching pornhub.

well shit, maybe you aren't as innocent as he thought you were.

you jolt instantly, jumping out of your seat as you feel all the colour draining from your cheeks. no way rafe just caught you in the act. this can't be real. despite how bad you want to run away, you are left with no other choice but to turn around and face him, wishing the earth would swallow you up.

"i– this is not what it looks like, i swear i can explain," you stutter nervously, taking of the airpods with trembling hands. from here on, the anxious rambling begins, "i wasn't doing anything... this guy– well, i... i uhm– i got a date, 'kay? with this guy from class and– listen, i know this is silly, but..."

"jesus christ, baby, slow down, 'kay?" he stops you, his heart nearly melting from how cute you look, so shy and flustered. he almost feels bad for interrupting whatever the hell you were doing here.

the colour has returned to your cheeks, and you are all flushed now, from head to toe. your face feels like it's on fire; you have never been this embarrassed before.

"could you please start over?" he asks, hoping to hear a coherent explanation to why you are in his room, in the middle of the night, and watching porn on his laptop.

you take a deep breath, fidgeting with the hem of your top. you are so deeply ashamed that you don't seem to remember that you are wearing nothing but a flimsy white singlet and a tiny pair of matching panties. rafe's very aware of that fact, though, hungry eyes trailing all over your beautiful body.

"i've got a date with a guy from class," you start explaining, white teeth nibling occasionally on your plump bottom lip, "but i've never dated anyone, ya' know? i've no experience, and i don't want him to think i'm pathetic if we..."

"fuck?" he finishes your sentence, a roguish grin spreading across his handsome face.

if possible, your blush deepens even more at the vulgarity while you mutter a quiet 'yeah' in response.

honestly, he is a bit jealous of that guy. not only you are willing to let him fuck you, but you are also trying to learn how to do it properly so he has a good time doing it. yeez, what a shame for him he is going to kill him as soon as he finds out who he is; there's no chance rafe's letting you near any other man but him.

"i thought, uhm, maybe watching that would help..." you add coyly, his silence making you more nervous.

it is cute how you try to avoid saying words like 'fuck' or 'porn', like it is a crime to pronounce them or something.

"you know what? let's watch it together," he proposes.

there's a mischievous glint in his eyes that doesn't go unnoticed. you swear your cheeks might just explode at any second, and you can't help the pathetic stutter that comes out when you talk. "uhm, i don't think that'd be appropriate," you refuse, shaking your head.

"why not? you want help, and i can help you here, sweetheart," he answers, his voice surprisingly soft and gentle —unlike rafe, "that's what big brothers are for, aren't they?"

he takes a few steps in his direction until he is standing right beside you. then, he grabs the laptop in his large hands as he flashes you a wicked smirk, his curtain bangs falling messily on his forehead. you gulp, having him so close makes you feel a certain way; you cannot deny that.

"you, uhm, being my stepbrother is exactly why not," you stammer as you tilt your head back to look at him, his height towering over you.

"bullshit," he retorts, huffing. "you trust me?"

your first mistake is, probably, trusting rafe cameron. "yeah, i do, but..."

"that's why 'm perfect for the job, baby," he interrupts you. his words are clearly intended to manipulate you, but you are way too innocent to notice it, "i'm probably the guy you feel most comfortable with, aren't i? i can give ya' all the advice you need."

to be fair, he isn't wrong about that. you don't have any male friends, and you are honestly too embarrassed to ask your girlfriends for help on this department, not wanting them to think less of you. plus, rafe is a guy; he knows better what guys like, right?

"wouldn't it be kinda... weird ?" you ask, clearly hesistant.

"weird?" he repeats. "no, 'course not."

only a few more sweet, reassuring words is all it takes for him to gently coax you into watching his favourite pornos with him. his cock starts to harden in his pants just at the thought of having you like that. when you finally accept, he swears he's on cloud nine.

god, he's been wanting you for months now; he can't believe this is happening.

"c'mere, baby," he eagerly instructs you, getting on his bed.

he sits with his back resting on the headboard and pats the spot between his legs to invite you to sit there. he places the laptop next to him, the pornhub website still open on it. you move slowly towards him, cheeks slightly flushed from the embarrassment as you settle on the mattress in between his parted thighs, your back pressed to his hard chest.

he wraps one strong arm securely around your waist, his hand coming to rest gently on your tummy. with his other hand, he reaches for the laptop sitting beside him, carefully bringing it closer so the two of you can see the screen properly.

your heart is beating so fast in your chest that he can probably hear it, too. the way he is touching you is not making it easier for you to stay calm, either, his fingers tenderly tracing patterns on your belly over the thin fabric of your shirt while he scrolls through the page.

he seems to sense your discomfort and chuckles low in his throat, his warm breath tickling your ear. "relax, sis," he whispers teasingly, his voice laced with amusement. "i'm not gonna make you watch anything that'll traumatize you."

"it's just– this is a bad idea," you babble, fidgeting nervously when he finally clicks on a video and a pretty young woman appears on screen.

the actress is beautiful; she has a gorgeous body and face. her lips are full and pink, and she has these big, expressive eyes that appear to gleam. and you don't realize it, but she looks exactly like you.

the scene starts playing; in it, the girl is watching some movie with a guy that, apparently, is her roommate —at least that's what the title says.

"shhh..." he hushes you softly, his voice barely audible over the sounds emanating from his laptop's speakers. "just watch. don't overthink it."

"okay," you answer between gritted teeth.

your pretty eyes are fixed on the laptop while you try not to cringe at how bad the script and acting are, which is nearly impossible, to be honest. despite that, you keep watching in silence as the video plays, growing more flustered as the clock ticks.

you didn't know mouths could be used for that... interesting.

as opposed to you, rafe's pretty chill behind you, like he's unbothered by this whole situation —he's actually hard as fuck inside his pants, the thing is you haven't noticed. you wonder how he can act so unfazed, since you keep pushing your thighs together to try and soothe the throbbing sensation building in between them while you take in the lewd actions occurring on screen.

you weren't expecting your body to have this reaction, and now you don't know what to do to make it stop.

rafe soon becomes aware of the way you keep letting out soft sighs and squirming in his arms, plush ass rubbing against his cock every time you do it. it's a miracle he is still holding back, though he doesn't know how much time he will be able to.

he's not even paying attention to the video anymore, his entire focus put on you. he finally ventures to lean in, his hot breath grazing the shell of your ear as he whispers, "you know, i could do that to you..." his hand slowly slides to your plush thigh and he gives it a gentle squeeze.

his movements are measured and controlled not to scare you, but your breath hitches in your chest at his actions either way, body tensing up in his grasp. your brain is telling you to push him away, but the insistent throb in your sex doesn't like that idea, not one bit.

"you– you could?" you utter quietly, not taking your eyes away from the laptop.

rafe notices the uncertainty in your voice, but the way you haven't pushed him away yet emboldens him to continue, his large hand gradually sliding north.

"yeah, baby," he murmurs huskily against your ear, fingertips brushing along your inner thigh. "i could put my fingers inside you, just like he's doing to her..."

his words make you blush heavily as a little gasp is released from your pouty lips. "would it feel good?" you ask naively.

your eyes are transfixed in the sight of the guy on the screen pushing his fingers inside the girl's pussy. god, she seems like she's enjoying it so much... and you desperately want to feel like that too. you can't even bring yourself to care that it's your stepbrother offering to show you.

rafe's fingers creep higher and higher until they're barely brushing against your cotton panties. "yeah," he growls huskily against your ear, "it'd feel real good, sweetheart. i promise..."

you shudder, a sweet little mewl escaping your throat involuntarily. you can't help but blush at your own reaction, slightly embarrassed by it. you tear your eyes away from the screen, head falling back against his chest as you look up at him.

"it's throbbing, rafe..." you whine, self-control slipping from your hands. "can you make it better?"

rafe's fingers finally make contact with your wet underwear, pressing against your clit through the fabric. he rubs gentle circles around your sensitive nub, his other hand curling around your supple thigh to spread your legs wider.

"oh, baby, you're soaked through your panties..." he pants out.

your body literally melts into his touch like butter, perfectly shaped brows knitting together in a frown of pleasure. the girl in the video moans, and you do too, both sounds echoing in the silence of his room.

taking your moan as an invitation, rafe carefully hooks his fingers in the gusset of your panties to push them aside, exposing your sopping cunt to the cool air of his bedroom. then, he traces your wet slit slowly, leisurely, as if savoring the velvety feel of your skin.

"such a pretty little pussy..." he praises, eyes hungrily taking in the pink expanse of flesh.

you squirm and let out a soft whimper, biting your lip right after to avoid keep making noises; the last thing you want is to wake up your parents or wheezie. rafe notices your struggle and swiftly reaches up to cover your mouth with his free hand, muffling your sweet moans.

he gathers some of the wetness dripping out of your cunt before trailing his fingers all the way up to your clit, rubbing it gently. your eyes roll back, hips bucking up against his hand instinctively. the way your swollen bud throbs beneath his fingertips is going to make you mad. he begins to touch your clit in fast, tight circles, his other hand still holding your mouth shut to keep you quiet.

he leans in to whisper against your ear, his hot breath sending shivers down your spine, "if you make a sound, i'll stop, got it?"

you nod obediently in response, making your best effort to comply; you don't want him to stop doing this, never. as a reward, rafe slides a thick finger down your slit and presses it against your clenched entry, steadily applying pressure until your tight muscles finally give in and allow his digit ingress.

"so fuckin' tight," he groans under his breath at the feeling of your narrow pussy engulfing his finger.

withdrawing his finger almost all the way out, he teases your entrance with the tip, making you tremble with anticipation before pushing it back in to the knuckle, his palm cupping your mound as he starts to thrust in a smooth, lazy rhythm. you swallow a whiny cry while your eyelids flutter shut, pretty face scrunched in a blissful expression.

rafe works his finger in and out of your slick pussy slowly, marveling at how your velvety walls flutter around the digit. he curls it inward, searching for that special spot that's guaranteed to drive you wild.

after a few experimental pokes, rafe's fingertip finally brushes over your g-spot, eliciting a muffled moan from under his palm. he smiles wickedly against your skin, and you shudder in his grasp, pleasure waves running through your body.

"that's it, sweetheart... feel good?" he croons softly, fingering you nice and deep.

you can't bring yourself to reply, the sensation of his large digit fucking your pussy, added to the constant rubbing of his palm against your puffy clit has your mind feeling all fuzzy. your body language is the only answer he needs, though.

rafe leans in to tenderly nip at your neck, his hot mouth latching onto your slender throat as he keeps pumping his finger steadily in and out of your dripping cunt. he knows you're close when he feels your inner muscles starting to clench erratically around his digit.

"rafe," you moan onto his palm as you feel this new, strange sensation building in your tummy, pussy tingling so nicely.

heaven help him. hearing you, his stepsister, moan his name like that makes rafe's hard dick throb almost painfully against his zipper.

and then it happens. the coil in your belly suddenly snaps and you have to bite onto your lip harshly to keep yourself from screaming as you cum for the very first time, on your stepbrother's hand. rafe continues to pump his finger in and out of your spasming cunt as you ride out your climax, wanting to prolong your pleasure.

when you finally come down from your high, you're all shaky and flustered in his arms, panting heavily to try and catch your breath. he has a satisfied smirk on his lips while he slowly withdraws his slick digit from your quivering hole to bring it up to his mouth and lick it clean, savoring your taste.

"did so well for me, baby," he coos as he uncovers your mouth, gently turning your head to the side to press a kiss to your swollen, red lips.

you return it sloppily, eyes fluttering shut in the process, and you sigh contently against his mouth. he can't help but rock his hips against your ass, rubbing his hard on against you.

"did i make you feel good?" he asks between little kisses, his breathing growing uneven. you nod in response. "yeah? then it's just fair you make me feel good too, sweetheart... wanna do that f'me?"

"yes," you whisper against his lips without even thinking, feeling him smirk into the kiss.

"such a good girl," he praises.

at some point, the porn video playing on his laptop ended, so he simply closes it up and tosses it away, the device landing somewhere on his king size bed. then, he turns you both around, until you are laying on the mattress and he is on top of you.

he is quick to undo his pants and yank them down, just enough to free his raging hard on, which bounces against his abs. let me tell you this, he's big, the tip pink and fat, already leaking precum.

suddenly, realization hits you. this is your stepbrother for god's sake, are you really gonna let him fuck you?

he notices how your body tenses up, one hand reaching to stroke your plush thigh reassuringly while the other wraps around his shaft, giving it a slow pump.

"hey, baby, relax..." he whispers gently, "i'll put just the tip in, yeah? there's nothing wrong with that."

you hesitate. his strong arms slide beneath your legs to tug you closer. then his cock brushes your pussy and you whimper. how are you supposed to say 'no' ?

it's just the tip.

"mhmm, 'kay" you end up agreeing with a little nod.

rafe flashes you a lopsided smirk, his hand gripping his cock again while the free one yanks your panties aside once more. keeping eye contact, he slowly glides the fat head of his dick up and down your drenched slit, coating it thoroughly in your arousal. you shudder as his tip eventually meets your puffy clit, the gentle rubbing sending shivers down your spine.

"rafe," you whimper.

rafe's eyelids droop, a low hum of pleasure escaping his throat as he continues to slowly drag the reddened head up and down your chubby pussy lips with squelching sounds. his breathing grows heavier the longer he teasingly rolls it against your slick folds, reveling in your breathy whimpers. he feels like he's about to burst already, pre-cum steadily leaking from the tip and onto your flesh.

he can't fucking take this anymore.

with a slow, gentle thrust, he sinks his cock into your warm, slippery pussy, just the head breaching your entrance before he pauses, savoring the initial penetration. his eyes lock onto yours, his pupils blown wide with lust.

"jesus, fuck." he grunts.

your cunt starts fluttering around him. he has barely slided the first two inches in, as he promised, but he's so thick that even that feels like a tight fit. you let out a moan, which mingles with a strained groan from rafe as your velvety walls clench tightly around his swollen cockhead.

"gonna– might just nut already, shit" rafe mutters through gritted teeth, fighting the urge to just drive forward and hilt himself deep. "so goddamn tight."

your hips buck unconsciously against his, making him slip in just a tad further —which nearly makes him lose all his self-control. somehow, he manages to keep his shit together, hips rocking slowly to thrust in and out of you while his veiny hand strokes the rest of his shaft.

you're totally enthralled by the sight, liquid heat pooling in your belly while you watch him use your body for his pleasure. he looks so good, you can't believe he's real. your chest fills with pride at the knowledge that you're making this greek god feel good.

this is the fastest rafe has ever cum, the movement of his hips becoming jerky and sloppy after a few minutes as he spills his sperm inside you. he's panting heavily, sweat beading on his brow while his fist squeezes the base of his cock tightly.

you're left wanting more when he slowly pulls out, pussy stretched out and leaking white spurts of cum. he gazes down at you with a smirk, lightly tapping the head of his dick against your swollen clit, which has you writhing beneath him.

"so fuckin' gorgeous stuffed full of my cum," he whispers, his cock smearing the sticky substance all over your slit. you mewl in response. "hmm, 'm sorry for making such a mess on your pretty pussy, sweetheart, lemme clean it up, yeah?"

you blush in response when he leans forward, throwing your creamy thighs over his broad shoulders, to put his mouth onto your sex. you almost cry at the heavenly feeling, his playful tongue delving between your folds to lap up his own release. he cleans you up thoroughly, only to mess you up again right after, his spit soaking your cunt as he makes you cum again.

after tonight, you are cancelling that date, that's for sure.

[classyrbf]

Nerdy armin w a tongue piercing???? saw the animation and I'm obsessed.

you and your best friend, nerd!armin just chilling in his dorm room while he organizes his new pokemon cards that he had bought earlier, his fingers carefully sliding each card into the plastic sleeve like it was an ancient artifact he didn’t want to destroy. It has been about two months since you last really hung out with him, too busy with midterms and other shit.

You’re bopping your head to the music playing on his speaker, scrolling through Instagram when you peek over and see armin poking his tongue out in full concentration. That wasn’t anything new, but what was new was the piece of silver jewelry adorning his tongue. You sit up, questioning if you’re seeing things. “Armin?” You squint your eyes.

“Hm?” He slides his tongue back in his mouth, pushing his glasses up when he looks at you.

“What’s that…in your mouth?” You question, brows furrowing.

He looks just as confused as you do. “What…what do you mean?” You grip his jaw, his eyes going wide as he moves back a little. “Open your mouth.” And even though he’s still oddly confused, he hesitantly open his mouth and lo and behold, there you see it. A tongue piercing. “When the fuck did you get that?!” You screech, now you’re really in shock.

“Oh! This? That’s what you were talking about.” He fully stuck his tongue out, showing you a better view. “Ummm,” he trails off, “Eren told me to get it as a dare. I don’t know why I did it, but I kinda like it.” He shrugs.

“Armin, that still doesn’t answer my question.” You cock your head to the side. “Also, a dare? You never do dares. I know you’re keeping something from me.”

“It was like two months ago! Right after we stopped hanging out. And, I’m not hiding anything!” He quickly goes back to sorting his cards, flipping through the plastic pages to find an empty slot. He can feel you staring at him, your eyes burning into his skull. After just a few seconds, he breaks. “Ok, fine! We all got drunk at the frat party that they forced me to go to because I was cooped up in my dorm too long and then like I was having fun…yeah…and then one thing led to another and now I have it,” he spoke quickly, trying to get everything off his chest at once without having you interrupt him.

“You, nerdy little armin, got drunk and pierced your tongue as a dare?” You sat there with your arms folded across your chest. “Who have you become since I’ve been away?!” You laugh, still in shock.

“I’m still me, just with a piercing. My parents would kill me if they ever found out though.” He shook his head, slipping one last card into the plastic sleeve. “All done!” He slammed the binder shut, letting out a sigh of relief. “Why are you still staring at me? I told you everything.” He pushed up his glasses again.

“Mmm, did you try it out yet?” You playfully smirk at him.

“What do you mean ‘try it out’?” He blinked.

“On a girl…down there…eating her out?” You giggled.

His face automatically turned bright red, opening his mouth to say something but nothing came out. He couldn’t even look at you anymore, averting his gaze back to his closed binder. “Wh-what?! No! I don’t…I don’t even know how to do that.” He awkwardly cleared his throat.

“Wanna learn?”

[gossamyrrh]

okay…… can we please talk about alien boyfriend!choso and intimacy….

he doesn’t quite understand the way humans interact—finds it a bit peculiar, to be specific—since on his planet all communication, whether physical or verbal, is through frequencies.

hence, why the first time you hug him he’s…appalled. lets out a shocked “hmm?” as you wrap your arms around him, his own stiff at his sides as you meet him chest to chest.

you have to explain to him that humans do this to show fondness. affection. he, of course, lets out a confused trill.

“it means i love you, choso.”

that, he understands, and it makes him hum softly. something like a purr, as he wraps you in his arms and mirrors your previous action (albeit with much more force than necessary. but he’s learning.)

and he grows from there.

from then on out, alien boyfriend!choso begins to experiment with intimacy and touch. sometimes, he’ll run his fingers down the slope of your neck and shoulders, along the curve of your cheek, before he hesitantly follows it with a trail of kisses. some quick, others long and wet—with teeth.

he spends most his time touching you. gaining the courage and deftness to venture the rest of your body (the soft swell of your breasts, the planes of your stomach), which he quickly learns are far more sensitive than he would’ve thought. pulls little gasps from the depth of you.

so, imagine his surprise when he slips a little further.

he’s grazing along your skin per usual—the soft flesh of your inner thigh—but this time his fingers venture a little too far. the intention wasn’t sexual, you know. he’s just curious! but your body writhes all the same, legs clamping shut around his hand, hips lifting into his touch, cunt throbbing.

and he lets out a little warble. head tilting as he does it again, watches as your breath hitches and you let out a strangled moan.

“cho—”

he chitters, and you know he’s curious as to what’s wrong. “d-don’t do that. it—”

but you cut off when he does it again, just to test.

and oh.

his eyes widen, fascinated, and he stills for half a second, absorbing the way your thighs jerk—the way your chest rises and falls so quickly. his ears twitch, registering the shift in your breathing—the frequency of it. the way your heartbeat pounds against your ribs.

you’re warm, he notices. warmer than before.

choso lets out another soft chitter, tilting his head as his fingers move again—this time with purpose.

it’s still careful—experimental—tracing slow, aimless patterns across your folds, dragging through the slickness that he doesn’t quite understand but is so intrigued by. his brows furrow as he spreads you apart with just the lightest press of his fingers, feeling the soft give of you, the heat, the way your body reacts before you can even stop it.

your hips twitch up, seeking.

and that makes something in his chest rumble.

“hrrrggmmm.”

with narrow eyes, his other hand finds your hip and presses down, pinning you in place as he continues. you make a strangled noise this time, something between a gasp and a whimper, and that—

that makes him shudder.

a low, rattling sound vibrates from deep in his chest, and his shoulders tremble—arms lock. his fingers work faster now, sliding through your slick with more confidence, curiosity morphing into something more intentional. primal.

“cho’!”

you claw at his forearm, nails digging in, your lips parting in something breathless, something desperate. but he doesn’t stop. doesn’t even hesitate.

because he wants to understand.

he needs to.

his fingers slip lower, and when they find your entrance—when they push just the slightest bit inside—your back arches.

a sharp inhale. a high, keening sound that makes his eyes darken.

his ears twitch at the shift in your voice, pleasure laced into every breath. and he thinks—he knows—he’s doing something right.

choso chitters again, pleased, head tilting as he slowly sinks his fingers in. your walls flutter around him, your thighs threatening to snap shut, but he doesn’t let you. his grip is firm, controlling, holding you open so he can keep watching—keep feeling.

because this is new.

this is good.

he moves his finger in and out, and the sounds you make are sharper now, gasping moans that make a familiar heat in his belly coil tighter. his fingers move instinctively, mimicking the rhythm of your hips, learning the way you react—what makes you squirm, tremble, break.

and then he finds it.

that one spot inside you that makes your entire body tremble.

he freezes, stunned, absorbing the way your breath shatters, the way your nails dig into his skin so desperately.

then, slowly, deliberately—he presses there again.

and you cry out.

and his grip tightens.

his fingers curl just right, his pace steady but firm, pressing, circling, exploring. he chitters low in his throat, fascinated by the way your legs shake, your breath hiccupping into something uneven, something wild.

you’re close—he doesn’t know what that means, not in words, but he feels it.

feels the way your body tightens, the way your slick coats his fingers, the way your heartbeat pounds against his palm when he presses against your stomach to hold you down.

you writhe. you beg—though he doesn’t understand the words, only the need in them.

and then, suddenly—

it happens.

your body locks up. a strangled moan rips from your throat, your thighs clamping around his hand as the heat inside you shatters. he feels you pulse around his fingers, slick gushing as your body trembles violently beneath him.

choso freezes.

eyes wide. breath heavy. completely stunned.

for the first time since he started, he hesitates.

because what—what was that?

you’re panting, wrecked, head lolling to the side as aftershocks pulse through you. he feels it. feels the way your body twitches, the way you sigh, the way your entire frequency shifts into something slow, sated.

and then he realizes.

…he did this.

a slow, deep hum rolls from his chest. his fingers slide from you, slick coating them, still warm. he studies them, the way they shine, how they tremble just slightly from what he’s done to you.

then, experimentally, he brings them to his lips.

his tongue flicks out, curious.

and the sound he makes when he tastes you is deep. dark. possessive.

because now—now—he understands.

and he wants more.

part two here !

[servicpop]

family trip adrien ( deliquent oc ) x bttm m reader

ⓘ established relationship au

Through the excessive amount of visiting each other's houses almost everyday of the week, it was only natural that your families would grow close.

It wasn't a surprise when you received a pretty little invitation by Adrien to come join him and his family on a small trip to the coast. Since you had nothing better to do that weekend, you gladly accepted. Adrien brought up his family's van and offered you a ride in which you also agreed.

You never thought to ask Adrien about his family, assuming it was a topic he didn't particularly like as he never talked about them anyways. So seeing two little girls and a young boy that were the splitting image of Adrien if not his parents. They were a rather rowdy bunch as Adrien's mother rounded up the little troublemakers into the 2nd row of the van while her husband was busy packing things into the trunk.

“Why didn't you tell me you had siblings? And so many,” You question, turning to Adrien who seemed to be on his last straw trying to get his siblings to calm down.

“Didn't think I seemed like an only child,” he quipped.

You stop yourself from rolling your eyes when Adrien's mother walks up to you. She's gorgeous, straight nut brown hair, short and slim like a doe. It's strikingly different from Adrien's rough appearance.

“Oh dear, it seems like there's only one chair left,” Mrs Castillo's voice is like a hydrating balm to the soul as she places a hand on her cheek.

You open your mouth to propose a solution — as the responsible person you are — but you're acutely cut off by prince charming himself.

“He can sit on my lap, no problem.” You can see the relieved expression Adrien's mother carries before she walks off into the passenger's side of the van, leaving you absolutely speechless.

“Since when did I agree to that?” You sigh, but it's ultimately the only solution you can think of on the spot.

Adrien slips into the back seat first, getting himself comfortable before patting his thighs. There's a sour expression on your face as you climb in, settling yourself on Adrien's lap. He slips on the seatbelt from behind you and slides his arms around your waist, holding you close.

“Don't worry, I'll be your seatbelt.”

“I wasn't worrying.”

The ride was anything but smooth. You were profoundly aware of every single movement Adrien made underneath you, the soft thumping of his heart rattled against his chest every time you leaned back to rest.

Not to mention his demon-like siblings turning around to ask you bizarre questions.

“Did Adrien kidnap you?” “Do you think you can do a cartwheel and then the splits because I can.” “How much money did he pay you to be here?”

You couldn't even answer one question before another was interjected. Even Adrien seemed annoyed by this constant noise.

“Stop bothering him,” His tone caught you off-guard; it was harsh and grounded like he truly meant it. It didn't seem like the kids understood the message until Adrien swatted at them to turn around.

He sighed, leaning back into the car seat, pulling you down with him.

“They can be a damn handful sometimes,” He exhaled, letting his forehead rest on your shoulder.

The soft gesture, the heat radiating off his face to your shoulder, and his forearms locked tightly around your waist made something in your heart ache ever so slightly. Your fingers hesitantly move to rest on Adrien's arm, patting it gently like you're consoling him.

A few more hours pass by and the kids have already fallen asleep, not a sign of liveliness from the three. Your own eyelids start to grow heavy until the van drives over a rather large speed bump. From the scratchy sound of tires crunching along gravel, you can pretty much assume that the road is going to be filled with dents and bumps.

A barely audible groan comes out from Adrien's throat and you freeze up. Did you hurt him? Your movements are cautious as you turn your torso to look back at him, trying not to move so much so you don't hurt him further.

“Shit, are you okay?” Your eyes narrow and your nose crinkles in concern, Adrien has his head lowered before he lifts it up to meet your gaze.

The hands planted firmly around your body tighten and he pulls you back up against him.

“Just— Stay still,” he grunts out, forehead returning back to your shoulder.

You shuffle just back to get comfortable just enough that you practically grind against the tent growing in Adrien's pants. It takes you a moment to realize what was happening. A small gasp escapes your lips as you grip the flesh on his arm, keeping your head dipped.

The van drives over another bump and you feel it now. Adrien's hand clasps around your shoulder blade and he muffles a strangled grunt again. Your body grows hotter by the second, heat pooling in your lower half.

Now you were both hard.

“Ah shit, prez, you're gonna kill me,” He lets out a dry chuckle, hips twitching from underneath you. You crave it just as bad as you're rocking your body against his in a steady pace. There were too many people in the van, it was way too dangerous to fix the little problem.

“Wait it out,” You whisper, patting his arm once more like trying to calm down a dog.

He doesn't respond, instead, he grumbles into your shoulder.

The van finally comes to a stop. The engine whirrs off and the kids are hustled out of the doors before you and Adrien climb out behind them. There's a satisfying crackle and pop of your joints as you stretch, letting the good ol' sunlight kiss your deprived skin.

Getting the bags out of the trunk wasn't much work since you packed only for 3 days so you rolled your suitcase into the lobby alongside Adrien's family. A small notification pops up on your screen, a check-in from your family which you happily reply to.

Since it was such a large gathering, the family had split into different rooms with you and Adrien sharing one.

The reception hands Adrien's mother the keycard to each room and she hands them out, passing one to Adrien.

You turn your attention to him to see the guy already racing his way towards you, grabbing your wrist and pulling you past his family. You can hear a brief exchange of words between him and his dad, picking up on the lousy excuse that you're 'tired.'

Through the lobby, past the pools, around the bar and to your shared room. Adrien smashes the key card against the reader and he slams the door open.

“Fucking finally,” he sighs, shutting the door behind himself and burying his hands into the back of your head. He's tangling his fingers in your hair, pulling it back before latching his mouth onto yours.

He's practically welding himself to you, devouring your lips in a heated kiss. He pulls back to look into your eyes before he goes in for a second serving. Adrien guides you towards the bedroom, lips never leaving yours as he gently pushes you back onto the bed.

“You know how hard it was to keep myself in line?” Adrien chuckled against your cheek, his hands beginning to descend your body, tracing all the way down to the waistband of your pants.

“That's your job baby, not mine.”

You have half the heart to complain when he's pulling off your pants, lifting your hips off the bed to help him slide your clothes off. He pulls both your legs up and over his shoulders before kneeling onto the ground beside the bed.

“Adrien,” you call out his name almost breathlessly, fingers finding purchase in his thick hair.

He responds with a small hum that causes his throat to vibrate ever so slightly. Adrien's hands are coiled around your thighs, palms laying flat on your lower stomach as he leans in to kiss your inner thigh.

His lips tickle your skin and you can't help but jerk your leg from the sensation—which you're prevented from doing so by his arms holding your legs hostage.

Warmth envelops your lower half as Adrien wraps his mouth around your cock. His breath is hot against your trembling skin and he forces the most obscene noises out his throat. Slick slurping sounds mixed with groans and sighs like he's been starved a hearty meal.

The hand on your stomach slides up, pushing your shirt further so he could feel the flat plane of your torso. Your squirms and thigh twitches are held down by his built arms—it honestly seems like he trains just for this.

“Could do this for days.” its hard to tell what he's saying since all his words and muffled and gurgled.

He pulls off for one second to fish out lubricant from the hotel drawers, applying a hefty amount to his fingers before returning back to you.

Sliding back down to his knees, he prods a finger to your winking hole, teasing and pushing past that ring of muscle and pulling it back out just to watch it shiver from the loss.

“Pervert,” You grumble under your breath.

“Who's the one who asked me out?”

You shoot Adrien an irked glare but the annoyance fades from your face the moment he wraps his mouth around your dick once more. Your eyes flutter as he finally pushes that finger in, sliding in a second to slowly scissor you loose.

He's more skilled than you with his tongue and you can't help but wonder what his past experiences were like; you dismiss that thought as quick as it came.

You look down at him from half-closed eyes, watching as he hollows his cheeks to take in more. You're practically whining and thrashing around in his grip. He's buried his face to the hilt, nose brushing against your pelvic bone. Its almost a ticklish sensation, feeling him breathe against your skin.

His fingers press and pressure your walls, pushing them apart to ready you for his cock. He's rhythmically pushing his fingers deeper, curling at the apex before pulling them back, repeating that process in a steady pace. You can feel them hit your prostate, sending jolts straight to your dick.

It's too much for you to handle; your hips are rising to meet the bob of his head, back arching off the satin white sheets.

“Wait— Adrien pull off I don't want you to—” Your words are all diced up, spoken in short gasps as you try to pry his head off from your aching cock.

You succeed—for a bit—before he's dipping all the way down again, holding your hips steady as he forces you down his throat. He's fucking loving it too, moaning with your dick in his mouth as his fingers speed up, pistioning two fingers into your hole.

Your hips raise even more and he encourages it.

His name comes spilling out of your mouth like a mantra as your muscles spasm from the intensity of your orgasm. Adrien keeps sucking like he's trying to wring every last drop from you. You feel his tongue swirl over your slit, lapping up your sweet fluids.

He slides himself off of you, letting you rest on the bed for a bit as he tilts his head back. His Adam's apple bobs while he swallows, and he lowers his head back down to smile at you.

“Don't tell me you're tired already, I haven't even taken off my pants yet,” he tsks at you, shaking his head disapprovingly while he joins you on the bed. You're still dazed from how hard you just came but a warm hand pulls you back down to earth.

Adrien's hand grazes over your cheek delicately as he hovers over you, caging you in with two arms on either side of your head.

“Just relax prez, I'll do all the work, 'kay?” He takes your little grunt as an 'okay,' rolling you onto your stomach and guiding your head to rest on the pillow. It smells so distinctly of freshly cleaned hotel sheets with a hint of citrus and bleach that you take a moment to close your eyes and enjoy the scent.

You can feel the mattress dip on either sides of your hips as he plants his knees there. He leans his head down to peek at your blissed-out face, pressing a light kiss to your cheek. You can feel his hands run down the curve of your spine, running over your lower back before he settles them on your waist.

“Are you relaxed?” He hums, leisurely rolling his hips against you. His tone is so sultry it causes your muscles to visibly relax under the siren call of his voice.

A hand moves down to where your leg meets the curve of your ass, parting the round flesh for him to comfortably slide in. He had stretched you out enough that it slipped in with ease, hugged by your warm velvet walls.

He sucks in air between his teeth while he steadily rocks his body back and forth, tuning into the wet squelching sound with each thrust.

“Feel it yet?” He chuckles, poking fun at the fact that you've been too dazed to respond to him. You nod against the pillow, your hair spilling over the silk case like spilt water. A small, shaky exhale leaves your nose as he begins to hasten his thrusts. It's almost bruising as he slams himself against your tailbone—you know you'll be whining about the soreness tomorrow morning.

Your voice gradually gets louder as he pounds you into the bed, fingers curled up in the sheets as he slams his pelvis against your ass. You can feel him throb from inside you, twitching and ready.

A particularly deep thrust has you crying out into the pillow but you can't squirm, not when Adrien is pinning you down with his body weight. He's pushing against your prostate over and over again and you can feel that familiar feeling of an orgasm creeping up on you.

“Fuck, Adrien,” You hiccup, muffled by the fluff of the pillow, eyes flickering like you're struggling to keep them open.

“Yeah baby?” You can hear the smirk in his tone as he keeps at the rough pace. He's hitting all the right spots and your dick appreciates. You feel a hand dip under your neck, cupping the curve of your throat as Adrien lifts your head up to face him.

He moves in to kiss you, soft and gentle as he wraps his arms around your whole body, holding you in a tight grip while continuously slamming himself deeper into you. Your loud cries and moans are enveloped by Adrien's mouth, swallowed up.

“You gonna cum? Feels so good you just can't hold it in?” He cooes, chuckling against your swollen lips as he feels you tremble underneath him. You swear stars enter your vision and your eyes roll back, muscles jerking and tensing as you let out a string of whimpers while your orgasm comes crashing onto you.

Adrien buries himself to the hilt before emptying out all he's worth, coating your insides with his dna. He groans as he pulls out halfway just to watch his semen flood out of your hole, still tightly clenched around his cock.

He sits up, raking his fingers through his tousled hair and sighs with satisfaction like drinking an ice cold soda in a hot summer day.

“You tired prez?” He asks, smiling down at you. His eyes narrow and concern settles in when you don't move or answer him.

“Baby?” He quickly leans back down to look at your face only to see your peaceful expression, eyes closed and mouth slightly agape. He lets out a relieved chuckle before pulling out, sliding off the bed to grab a towel.

He figured he'd get you some fruit to replenish your energy, pulling on some of his clothes after cleaning you up and getting you comfortable in the bed. He makes his way to the buffet, piling all favorite fruits and sweets onto his plate before he spots his family.

“Where's your boyfriend?” Adrien's mother asks, also holding a plate of food. Seemed like the two of you missed lunch.

“He's uh—” Adrien tenses knowing that he can't just openly admit to his mother that he fucked the daylights out of you.

“Taking a nap.”

[cherrygirlfriend]

*ੈ✩‧₊˚ honey, on your knees

pairing: nerd!rafe x pervert!reader synopsis: rafe gets desperate to please reader warnings/tags: smut, oral (fem. receiving) MDNI! wc: 1.7k a/n; inspired by 'holy' by king princess! that song is so them... also there's an easter egg in this fic (what is this, the mcu?) lmk if you spot it!

rafe masterlist ♡ pervert masterlist ♡

rafe's raging hard-on was pressing against your clothed cunt as you were straddling him on his bed, the boy's hair mussed up by how much you'd been tugging on it. you didn't know if your boyfriend was aware just how his hips were bucking up into you desperately, small whines leaving his throat every time your lips took even a slight break from being heatedly pressing against his.

you chuckled as you pulled your lips away from him, a mocking pout on your lips. "what's the matter, baby?"

"please..." he whines underneath you, his blue eyes rolled back in his head.

"please what?" you chuckled again, rolling your hips against his, causing him to let out a guttural whine as you ran a long, manicured nail down his jawline, "speak up. you know i can't hear you when you just whine like that."

you wiped the saliva away from rafe's kiss-swollen lips; the two of you had been making out in his bed for the past hour, and he'd been basically humping up into you for the majority of it. your panties were soaked at this point, but you couldn't resist; you'd rather have your pussy clenching around nothing if it meant you'd get to tease him.

"j-just..." rafe whispered, trying to steady his breathing, his cheeks pink, "just need... something..."

"oh, do you?" you cocked your head to the side, "but what if i need something, huh? you think your needs should come first?"

"i'll give you anything," his eyebrows are knitted together in a way that made him look like the most pitiful, adorable puppy as he looked up at you, his pupils so wide his eyes almost appear black.

"yeah? anything?" you coo, bringing your lips down to his defined jawline, starting to leave small little kisses and licks as your lips traced it, "anything?" you mumble against his chin until nipping at the soft skin sharply, rafe letting out a whiney exhale.

"anything..."

you chuckled, pulling away from his chin, biting down on your lip as your thumb wiped away a tiny drop of blood that you'd drawn with your small nip, "look, rafe. seems like i nicked you a little." you smile, showing your thumb to rafe, only for the boy not caring for even one bit, not even when you wiped it on his lower lip, his tongue almost automatically darting out to lick it off.

"please."

you pursed your lips in thought for a moment, until chuckling as you got off his lap, making rafe look at you with wide eyes, an almost betrayed look on his face. you sat back on his bed, hugging your knees for a brief moment, before cocking your head to the side and lifting your eyebrow, spreading your legs. "take off my shorts."

rafe didn't need to be told twice; he knelt down in between your legs, the shape of his cock visible through his grey sweatpants. you lifted your hips to help him as he scrambled to get your shorts off, and when he saw the wet patch on your baby pink panties, right under the heart-shaped cut-our in the middle of it, his adam's apple bobbed as he swallowed, "what... what do you want me to do?" he mumbled, clearing his throat.

you run your pointed bare foot down his arm, the light hairs on his arms raising, a shiver running down his spine as you caress him with a coy smile, cocking your head to the side with a glint in your eye. "take them off."

rafe took a long, shaky breath. hesitantly, he reached out for the waistband of your panties, his knuckles pressing against your lower abdomen making you hitch your breath.

even though you knew it wasn't rafe's purpose to tease you, it took him agonizingly long to slide your panties down your legs, making you grow more and more desperate to feel him, to feel his touch, to feel his mouth between your legs. and finally, when your panties were discarded to the side, he turned to look at you, and it was as if he was hypnotized by the sight of you.

"kiss up my legs. slowly."

listening to your guidance, rafe lifted your right foot to rest on his shoulder, turning to face it as he pressed a kiss on your ankle, tracing wet, warm kisses, first up your calf, before pressing a kiss on your knee. as with everything rafe did, he was thorough. he nipped, licked, and kissed up your inner thigh, getting closer and closer to where you needed him, his breath hot against your bare skin.

when rafe finally reached the divet between your thigh and your cunt, he inhaled the scent of your arousal, exhaling against your arousal-slickened cunt shakily, causing your back to arch off the bed.

you'd had enough of his unintentional teasing, so you brought your manicured hand to his hair, gripping it tightly. you moved his head so you had him where you wanted, making rafe let out a muffled grunt against your folds. he moved the other thigh to rest on his shoulder too.

as you loosened your grip slightly, he pulled away just slightly, only to run his thumb up your labia and slightly pressing against your clit, giving it a lazy roll. "i haven't done this before, but, uh, i'm gonna try my best." he murmured, and you felt the vibrations of his voice in your spine, making you bite down a smile.

rafe suckled up one of your folds, and finally, when he reached your clit, he simply pressed a small kiss on the throbbing bud, running his tongue down your slit, making you arch into his touch as you let out a whine, your grip clenching around his hair.

the boy repeated his action on your other fold, but now, when he reached your clit, rafe circled it with his tongue teasingly. one of his hands started trailing up your body, pushing up his shirt as he did so, and you could tell that as he reached your bralette-covered breasts, his hips bucked against the bed, and as his tongue circled your clit, his fingers started circling your hardened nipple.

when rafe's lips wrapped around your clit, his fingers wrapped around your nipple. and when his lips finally started greedily sucking your clit between his lips, his fingers pinched your nipple.

you gasped, arching into his touch; you felt as he started rolling around your nipple between his fingers, while simultaneously drawing figure-eights on your clit with his tongue. rafe was letting out, almost indecipherable moans against your clit, his hips rutting against the bed.

"just like that..." you moan, arching your hips into him, and as his other hand creeps up your thigh, he pulls away from your clit, a groan leaving your lips as you look down at him, taking your hand away from his hair with a disappointed huff, "did i tell you to stop?"

rafe let out a bashful chuckle, the hand that was on your thigh moving to push back his mussed-up hair, "just, uh, wanted to know if it's okay if i use my fingers?"

you rolled your eyes, but smiled at him fondly before resting your head back down, your hand moving to grab his hair again, "just shut up and do it."

his head disappeared between your thighs once again, lapping up some of your arousal before his lips wrapped around your clit again. you felt two of his fingers circling your entrance, building suspense.

but when he finally pushed his fingers into you, your walls were so slick with your arousal, it was like they were sucking him in, pleading him to go deeper. rafe let out a soft moan against your clit as he pushed his long fingers deeper, the coldness from his rings causing shivers to run down your spine.

"yes..." you clenched around his fingers, feeling as he withdrew them, only to push them in deeper, and as he continued on, he began to arch them inside of you and your grip on his hair tightened, the squelch of your pussy as his fingers started to pick up their pace mixed with the sound of your moans filling his dorm room.

and as his fingers and mouth worked in tandem, you kept arching more and more into him, your breathing getting more irrational as you felt the familiar warm feeling in your abdomen slowly turn scorching hot.

"yes, right there!" you moan the moment you feel his fingers reach that spongy spot, and as usual, he obeyed, his fingers continuing to arch into that one specific spot, your head thrown back in bliss, your eyes closed as you chased your orgasm.

and when it finally hit you, it was like electricity was running through your body, your pussy clenching around his fingers, trapping his long digits inside of you, gripping onto his hair as if to make sure you'd stay on earth. rafe pulled his lips away from your throbbing clit, panting, instead moving his thumb to slowly roll around the bud to help you come down from your orgasm.

and when the clenching of your walls finally started to ease up, he rafe slowly slid his fingers out of you as you took short breaths, your heart pounding against your chest. you slowly let go of his hair, and rafe moved up your body. you looked at him with half-lidded eyes, a blissed-out smile on your lips, while his own were covered with your arousal.

"did i do okay?" rafe asked, his cheeks red as he was biting down on his lower lip. you moved your hand to his lips, tugging it from under his teeth, before pressing your lips against his in a tender kiss, tasting yourself on his lips.

"you did better than okay." you mumbled against his lips, pressing a small peck on them, "you did amazing, baby. where'd you learn that?"

"i, uh…" he mumbled, "i studied."

you laugh softly, shaking your head, "what, do you mean you watched porn or something?"

"no…" rafe scratched the back of his neck, "i read some articles online."

somehow, as dorky as your boyfriend's answer was; it was also the most endearing thing in the world.

[shidoglazer]

hihii can i request a smut rin fic w a shy reader.⁠·⁠´⁠¯⁠`⁠(⁠>⁠▂⁠<⁠)⁠´⁠¯⁠`⁠·⁠.

“i..i can’t, cmon rin..” you’ve barely taken off your shirt, and yet you’re already shy. and rin barely reacts except a small smile, and you think he has a patience of a saint for putting up with how easily embarrassed you get. “would it make you feel better if you close your eyes and i helped you take off your shirt?” and honestly? that sounds like the best option right now. you nod hesitantly and shut your eyes close.

“arms up.” you lift up your arms and he takes off your shirt, throwing it to god knows where, unclips your bra, hands training up your skirt to slide off your panties, then places a gentle kiss on your cheek. “all done.” you open your eyes, squinting a little. “..what about my skirt?” “to save you from being too embarrassed.” and truthfully, it was working. it was better than knowing your boyfriend was seeing you completely naked.

“..take off your clothes too, s’not fair i’m the only one with no clothes.” it sounds like a request more than a demand, but he happily does so anyways. “gonna need you to speak louder than that during sex so i know if you’re feeling good or not.” he says in the middle of unbuckling his belt, and your face turns to beet red. you quickly hide your face into the pillows, your skirt riding up your ass just nice to see your slit. you feel the mattress sink beside you, then his hand coming to grip the back of your neck and pull you up just slightly, leaning down to speak into your ear. “make some pretty noises for me, okay?” “?!”

“hnnghh!- rin, rin! rin please! i cant!” your voice was squeaky like a little rabbit as he pounded into your sweet little hole with the strength of a wolf, “you can. i know you can.” he says it as if its the most obvious thing in the world, but your eyes are puffy from crying from pleasure, your pussy is red and swollen from him ripping orgasm after orgasm out of you, and you can barely breathe from the way you were shoving your face into the thick pillows, having to move your head occasionally to get a breath.

rin was insatiable. you could hear him muttering and groaning the words “not enough—” and “all mine,” he was basically pussydrunk, really. but among the tension, your eyes caught onto your little teddy bears sitting on your desk innocently, all facing in the direction of the bed, and you immediately choke out a sob out of embarrassment, despite knowing they’re just objects. you gripped the sheets tightly and kicked your legs, to which catches rins attention, and he looks towards where you’re looking too, chuckling as he continues to plunge into your walls.

“what? your cuties first time seeing you get fucked on my cock?” “don’t look at them,, n don’t say that either!” you frown, and its exactly the reaction rin wants. “you’re adorable.” his arms stretches out to messily grab one of the teddy bears, his rough gesture toppling the rest over as he places it directly in front of your face. “put on a show for him, yeah?” “no! and.. and, thats a her..” and you don’t know if its your imagination, but you felt rins cock twitch inside you, he thought you were the cutest little thing in the whole world.

“put on a show for her then.” he pauses, adjusting his position slightly. “y’re gonna cum soon right? your hands are doing that thing where they shake.” “sshut up!..” rin lets out a breathy laugh, gripping onto the sheets right next to your face. “i’m close too, yeah, cum for me, shit,” rin shot out a series of white strings inside you, groaning quietly, while you on the other hand was a babbling mess, crying and moaning, back arching into the mattress as your legs kicked against the bed. he may have asked for another round after seeing your reaction just to see it one more time, but seeing how you went completely limp and out of breath after that round, he knew it was time to stop. “colour?” “red,, no more..” “mm. thought so. cmon, up. i’ll start you a bath and order food for you.”

[misserabella]

hey! i love your spencer reid fanfics!

i wanted to request a spencer x reader fanfic where they are experimenting with each other sort of and spencer times how much he can make reader come or how long it would take him to make her squirt because he’s not just a curious genius but also down bad

ty and if you’re uncomfortable with that just ignore! 💜

let’s put it to the test

experienced! spencer x inexperienced! reader

okay but what if spencer is the once with experience this time and reader is the one inexperienced?!?

cw; +18 content, minors dni!!, spencer being a supportive attentive perfect boyfriend, taking it slow, make out sessions, fluff!!!, thigh riding, dry humping, fingering, mutual masturbation, spencer teaching r how to touch him, oral sex (r receiving), multiple orgasms, lingerie, spencer going feral, hard sex (reader asks for it), nipple sucking, dirty talking, breeding kink, piv unprotected, cream pie!!, squirting…

experienced! spencer who reassures you that there’s nothing wrong for not being experienced sexually with kisses and cuddles, telling you that he’s okay with waiting until you’re ready to take that step with him, or even if you never wanted to, he’d still be okay with it ‘cause he loves you.

experienced! spencer who starts off slow with you, pecks, kisses, and make out sessions in that order, until you seek more and start grinding yourself down onto his lap. he doesn’t touch you. not yet. he kisses you, and encourages you to ride his thigh. to make yourself feel good. and you do. hesitantly at first, but then you get the hang of it and it feels so good… coming against his slacks becomes your first and comfort way of receiving pleasure.

experienced! spencer who doesn’t pressure you, lets you explore, let’s you touch him, pleasure him if that’s what you want. he teaches you how to touch him, how to turn his mind blank. and when you’re completely and utterly soaked due to his beautiful moans, you beg for him to touch you. he asks if you’re sure, makes you promise that you’ll stop him if you don’t like it or change your mind. that night you two masturbate each other. his fingers become your second and favorite way of receiving pleasure.

experienced! spencer who, weeks later, notices that you’re keeping something to yourself. he doesn’t ask, he doesn’t want to make you say it before you’re comfortable to talk about it. one night, while he fingers and kisses you, you whisper that you want his tongue. and he catches on what you want the first time. but he wants you to be specific, ‘cause god, spencer has been wanting to taste you since the first time he saw you. so you ask him if “could you eat me out, please spencer?” and who is he to say no? his mouth is heaven. and moves up on the chart, taking the number 1.

experienced! spencer who becomes obsessed —just like you— with tasting your pretty pussy. getting into silly little missions like ‘i’m gonna put a countdown of thirty minutes and see how much i can make you cum before the alarm goes off’, what at first makes you roll your eyes, but when he’s already pulled 3 orgasms out of you by the fifteen minute mark, you’re rolling them for a completely other reason. yeah, you love this little challenges of his.

experienced! spencer who comes one day back from a hard case to find you kneeling on his plushy bed, bare except for the prettiest lavender lacy lingerie set you had bought solely for him, telling him that you’re ready. that you want him to fuck you. and he doesn’t need much convincing.

experienced! spencer who almost cums when his tip slides in, ‘cause even if he had prepped you, and made you come a couple of times to slick and relax you, you’re still soooo tight.

experienced! spencer who takes it slow, who circles your clit, who sucks at your nipples to help you get used to the pressure, to the feeling of his big cock splitting you apart.

experienced! spencer who groans when you beg him to fuck you hard. when you tell him that you can take it. that you want him to break you.

experienced! spencer who goes feral and gives you exactly what you want. and well, if you thought his mouth was heaven, his cock is certainly something above that.

“is this what my pretty girl wanted? wanted me to split this pussy open, hm? look at you, baby, you’re drooling. taking my cock like the perfect little cock sleeve that you are. fuuck yeah, squeeze me like that, princess. good fucking girl.”

experienced! spencer who praises you. who degrades you. who chokes you. who marks you…

experienced! spencer who has you coming like crazy, having fucked you in every single position, reaching so deep inside you he’s hitting your cervix as he bends you in the most perfect mating press.

“how many orgasms do you think it’ll take me to make you squirt, hm? let’s find out shall we?”

experienced! spencer who indeed makes you squirt, so much you end up soaking the mattress. making a mess of his sheets and thighs. you’re a pure fuck toy as he fucks out of you spurt after spurt, buckets of liquid out of your swollen and abused cunt.

experienced! spencer who groans as if he were in pain when you plead for him to cum inside you, to fill you up.

experienced! spencer who does it as in command, coming so hard he’s seeing stars.

experienced! spencer who then spends the rest of the week making sure to fuck you full of his cum in every room on his apartment, on every surface.

@cafekitsune ‘s dividers!

@ordinarywaifusstuff ty for your support and this ask! hope you like how it came out!💋

[bernardsbendystraws]

ꔛ 𝒔𝒏𝒊𝒑𝒑𝒆𝒕 𝒐𝒇 𝒄𝒉𝒓𝒊𝒔 𝒍𝒂𝒚𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒐𝒏 𝒚𝒐𝒖𝒓 𝒂𝒔𝒔 𝒂𝒏𝒅 𝒍𝒂𝒛𝒊𝒍𝒚 𝒇𝒊𝒏𝒈𝒆𝒓𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒚𝒐𝒖…

Chris was in heaven.

His cheek was smushed against your ass, one hand running over your thigh, the other running even higher. “-so pretty. So soft,” he rasps.

You smile contently, playfully wiggling your hips. Chris grabs right below your ass tight, holding you in place as he gruffs, “Stop movin’. Wanna touch you.”

Your heart beats faster as you feel his hand squeeze even harder, the force pulling your thick thighs to show you pussy to him. Chris is drooling at the sight, barely containing his excitement as he feels his cock harden even more against your thigh.

“Thereeee we go,” he purrs, hesitantly running his thumb along your folds.

The quiet gasp that falls from your lips makes him grin, his hand starting to massage your thigh to unveil your weeping hole. “-spread ‘em for me, baby. You gonna let me touch you?”

Pride spreads through his chest as he watches you bend your knee, allowing him the perfect sight. He lazily drags his fingers against your wet folds, circling your dripping entrance and using the slick to circle your clit.

You whine, your back arching as you expose yourself to him even more.

Chris tusks, giving your thigh a warning squeeze, “Stay still for me. Just gonna…” he slides his fingers to your tight hole, slowly pushing in with a shallow depth, “-yeah, just gonna make you feel real good, okay? Just — just keep ‘em spread. Just like that.”

[dearlenore]

THE FIRST, FIRST LOVE COMPLEX • S.REID

SUMMARY: when a serial killer obsessed with Spencer sends threatening letters to the BAU, they uncover mentions of a mysterious first love the unsub vows to kill. Confused, the team questions Spencer — wasn’t Maeve already dead? Left with no choice, Spencer is forced to confess the truth.

PAIRING: fem!reader x spencer

tags: reader is a cutie pie, reader wears sun dresses and bikinis, reader is flirty bombshell, mentions of eating disorder, mentions of death, stalking, etc

a/n: i was thinking about this concept forever and finally got around to writing it so this one might be my longest fic yet please bare with me <3

w/c: 3.5K (goddamn!!)

The BAU’s bullpen was unusually quiet for a Tuesday morning. Phones still rang, keys still clattered, but there was an undercurrent of unease — that lingering tension that crept in before a storm.

Spencer Reid sat at his desk, flipping through a worn copy of Gödel, Escher, Bach. The logic should have grounded him, but his mind refused to focus. His fingers fidgeted with the corner of the page, folding and unfolding it absentmindedly. Something was gnawing at him — something he couldn’t quite place

“Reid?”

He startled, glancing up to see JJ standing by his desk, a thick envelope in her hand. Her expression was serious, eyes scanning him with quiet concern.

“This came in this morning,” she said, placing the envelope on his desk. “Addressed to you.”

Spencer’s eyes dropped to the envelope. His name was scrawled across the front in elegant, looping cursive. No return address. The paper felt heavy, expensive — like something you’d use for wedding invitations. His stomach twisted.

“Did you open it?” he asked quietly.

JJ shook her head. “I wanted you to see it first.”

The bullpen felt quieter now, the air heavier. Spencer slid his letter opener beneath the envelope’s seal and carefully unfolded the thick parchment inside. The paper smelled faintly of ink and something floral — lavender, maybe.

And then he read the words:

A heart once shattered, sewn in gold,

Memories linger though years turn cold.

The girl who smiled with eyes so bright,

Will burn again before the night.

A book’s torn page, a crimson thread —

Retrace the steps or find her dead.

Spencer’s fingers went numb. His pulse thumped in his ears as his gaze lingered on the words — especially the third line.

“Reid?” JJ’s voice was softer now. “What is it?”

“It’s… it’s a poem,” he said quietly, his voice tight. He swallowed hard. “It’s referencing my first love.”

JJ’s brow furrowed. “Maeve?”

Spencer nodded hesitantly. “She used to write me poems like this — riddles, puzzles. But this…” He reread the words. Will burn again before the night. His stomach twisted.

JJ’s expression hardened. “I’ll get Garcia.”

“No.” Spencer’s voice was sharper than he intended. JJ froze, her eyes narrowing.

“Why not?”

“Just… give me a minute,” he said, folding the letter carefully and sliding it into his desk drawer. “I need to think.”

JJ didn’t look convinced, but she relented. “Okay,” she said softly. “But you’re not figuring this out alone.”

As she walked away, Spencer leaned forward, his elbows on his knees, pressing his fingers to his temples. His heart raced — not just from the letter, but from the secret he had buried for months now.

Because whoever wrote that letter wasn’t just referencing Maeve.

They knew about her.

The team gathered in the briefing room minutes later. The envelope lay open on the table, its contents displayed beside it. Garcia’s fingers flew across her keyboard, her usual energy tempered by the tension in the room.

“Okay, so the envelope’s custom stationery,” Garcia reported. “Handmade, actually — imported from Italy. Not cheap.” She tapped a few more keys. “I’ve reached out to the company for a buyer list, but this isn’t something you grab at a corner store.”

Hotch nodded grimly. “This poem… you said it references Maeve?”

Spencer shifted in his seat. “I think so,” he said carefully. “The way it’s written — it’s similar to how she’d write riddles for me. But the wording…” He hesitated. “It’s different. Darker.”

Emily’s gaze sharpened. “You think the unsub’s mimicking her?”

“Or they knew her,” Spencer murmured.

“Maeve’s been gone for over two years,” Rossi said. “Why now?”

Before Spencer could answer, Garcia’s computer pinged. She clicked into her inbox, her eyes widening.

“Oh no…” she whispered.

“What?” Hotch asked.

“There was a break-in at a lab in New York. last night. One of the items reported missing…” Her fingers moved rapidly as she pulled up the list. “Several vials of thallium sulfate. Highly toxic, fatal in small doses.”

“Wait,” Emily said, her face pale. “That’s the same poison Maeve’s stalker threatened to use, isn’t it?”

Spencer barely heard her. His mind was spiraling — the poem, the poison, the threat.

Retrace the steps or find her dead.

“Spencer?” JJ’s voice cut through his thoughts.

“I need some air,” he mumbled, pushing back his chair.

The corridor outside the bullpen felt too bright, too sterile. Spencer leaned against the wall, dragging a shaky breath into his lungs.

“You’re not okay,” JJ’s voice said softly.

He didn’t turn. “I just… need a minute.”

“You’ve been quiet since this morning,” JJ pressed. “What aren’t you telling us?”

“I told you everything I know,” he lied.

JJ didn’t buy it — he could feel her gaze on him, sharp and unwavering.

“Spencer…”

“I said I’m fine,” he snapped. His voice cracked, betraying him.

JJ stepped closer, lowering her voice. “If this isn’t about Maeve…”

“It’s not,” Spencer admitted before he could stop himself. His breath hitched. “It’s not about Maeve.”

JJ’s expression softened. “Then who?”

Spencer closed his eyes. He could see her face — soft eyes, that satisfied smile, the way her hand lingered just a second too long when she passed him a book.

“Her name’s y/n,” he said quietly.

JJ blinked. “y/n?”

“She was… someone I knew years ago. Before Maeve.” His throat tightened. “I haven’t seen her in years, but…” He shook his head. “The poem — the way it references a ‘girl who smiled with eyes so bright.’ That’s her. She used to say that I —” He stopped, his voice breaking.

“You think the unsub’s targeting her?”

Spencer nodded. “I think they know about her. And if they’ve been watching me…”

JJ’s face hardened. “We need to find her. Now.”

Spencer knew she was right, but something cold coiled in his chest — the kind of dread that gnawed at the edges of logic.

Because whoever had written that poem didn’t just know about you.

They knew about him.

JJ and Spencer reentered the conference room, their faces shadowed with unease. The tension in the room deepened as they sat down.

“This…” JJ began softly, her voice unsteady. “This isn’t about Maeve.”

For a moment, no one spoke. The silence felt like a crack in the foundation — thin, fragile, and threatening to split wide open.

Hotch’s gaze sharpened. “Who is it about?” His tone was stern, but there was an edge of concern beneath it.

Spencer swallowed hard, his fingers twisting together. “Her name is Y/N.” His voice was barely above a whisper, but it cut through the room like glass. “I knew her years ago… before Maeve.”

Emily’s brow furrowed. “Why didn’t you say something?”

“Because I didn’t think it mattered,” Spencer said quickly, guilt bleeding into his voice. “I haven’t seen her in years. I thought she was safe… that she’d moved on.” He paused, voice breaking. “I thought I’d moved on.”

“But the poem,” JJ pressed gently, “it’s about her?”

Spencer gave a shaky nod. “That line — ‘The girl who smiled with eyes so bright’ — that’s her.” His voice softened as if the memory itself had a heartbeat. “She always said…”

The room was quiet again, but this time, it wasn’t tense — it was heavy.

“Spence…” JJ’s voice was softer now. “Why would someone go after her?”

Spencer let out a long breath, reaching down to his bag. The zipper hissed as he pulled it open, his hand disappearing inside. When he brought it back up, he was holding a sleek black hard drive.

“What’s that?” Garcia asked, her curiosity tempered with concern.

Spencer stared at the device for a moment, as if gathering the strength to hand it over. “It’s…everything.” He slid it across the table to Garcia. “Every memory I have of her.”

Penelope’s fingers curled around the hard drive, her colorful nails stark against the black plastic. “Everything?” she repeated softly.

“I started keeping track after we lost touch,” Spencer admitted. “Photos, videos… voicemails.” He swallowed hard. “I didn’t want to forget her. Not again.”

“Forget her?” Emily asked, her gaze narrowing.

Spencer looked down at his hands, his fingers tightly intertwined. “I met her when I was still a rookie with the Bureau,” he explained. “We… we kept things quiet. She wasn’t in law enforcement, and I didn’t want her to get caught up in what I was doing. But then…” He faltered. “There was a case — a stalker who fixated on me. He started following Y/N too.”

“Wait,” Morgan cut in, voice sharp. “You had a stalker back then?”

“I never told anyone,” Spencer said quickly. “We weren’t public. Nobody knew about us — except him.” His eyes flicked back to the hard drive. “I thought if I cut ties with her… if I made her think I didn’t care… she’d be safer.”

“You let her believe you didn’t love her?” JJ asked softly.

Spencer’s voice cracked. “I had to.”

“Did it work?” Rossi asked.

“For a while,” Spencer said quietly. “The stalker went dormant, and Y/N disappeared from my life.” His voice wavered. “I thought she was safe.”

Hotch leaned forward. “But now you think that same stalker is back?”

“I don’t know,” Spencer admitted. “But this letter… the way it’s written… it’s personal. Someone’s been watching me long enough to know about her. And if they know about her…” He trailed off, his chest tightening.

“We’ll find her,” JJ promised firmly.

“I just…” Spencer shook his head, his fingers curling into his palm. “I don’t know where to start.”

“I do,” Garcia said gently. “This?” She held up the hard drive. “This is a map — memories, places, dates. If someone’s been following her or tracking you, I’ll find the connection here. I think it’s best we all take a look.”

Spencer managed a faint smile, though his eyes were still troubled. “Thank you,” he murmured.

“Spence,” JJ said softly. “What was she like?”

His expression softened, memories flickering behind his eyes. “She was… kind,” he said quietly. “And patient — God, she was patient with me.” He chuckled softly, just for a second. “She had this laugh — this really loud, almost embarrassing laugh — but I loved it.” His smile faded. “She made everything… brighter.”

“You loved her,” JJ said gently.

Spencer exhaled shakily. “I do.”

For the first time in years, he let himself believe that maybe — just maybe — she still loved him too.

The team gathered closer as Penelope carefully plugged the hard drive into her computer. The room was quiet except for the faint hum of her system booting up the device. Spencer’s fingers drummed anxiously against the table, his eyes locked on the screen as folders began to populate the display. Each folder was meticulously labeled.

“You really kept everything,” Derek murmured, her voice soft with surprise.

“I couldn’t let myself forget,” Spencer admitted, his voice barely above a whisper.

“Alright, sugar,” Penelope said carefully, scrolling to the Videos folder. “Where should I start?”

“Anywhere,” Spencer said tightly. “I just… I couldn’t pick…”

Penelope clicked on a file labeled “Bookstore - November 17” and the screen filled with a grainy but warm video.

The camera wobbled at first before settling. The angle suggested Spencer had set it on a nearby shelf. The room was dimly lit — a small, cozy bookstore with stacks of novels lining the walls.

You appeared in the frame, sitting cross-legged on the floor between two shelves, a book balanced on your knee.

“Spencer,” you called teasingly, barely glancing up from your page. “Are you filming me again?”

“You always read out loud when you think no one’s listening,” Spencer’s voice answered from behind the camera.

“That’s because I think no one’s listening,” you shot back with a laugh. “Now come sit down.”

The camera shook as Spencer joined you on the floor, his arm barely visible in the corner of the screen.

“What are you reading?” he asked.

“Sherlock Holmes,” you said proudly, tapping the book’s worn cover. “I wanted to understand what’s going on in that big brain of yours.”

“You could’ve just asked me,” Spencer teased.

“Yeah,” you said with a grin, “but this way I get to imagine you in a ridiculous hat and smoking a pipe.”

You both laughed — warm and unguarded. The kind of laughter Spencer hadn’t let himself remember in a long time.

The video ended, and the room fell silent.

Spencer swallowed hard, his chest tight. “Play another,” he said softly.

Penelope clicked on a second file titled “Movie Night - March 3.”

This time, you were curled up on Spencer’s couch, clutching a blanket to your chest. Spencer’s voice, from behind the camera again, spoke up.

“It’s just a horror movie,” he teased.

“You say that like you’re not the one who jumped during the last scene,” you shot back, eyes narrowing playfully.

“I did not jump,” Spencer protested.

“Oh please,” you giggled, tossing a piece of popcorn at him. “You’re the genius — shouldn’t you know when a jump scare’s coming?”

The camera wobbled as Spencer sat beside you. “Maybe I just like the excuse to sit closer to you.”

The playful grin on your face softened. “You don’t need an excuse.”

The video faded to black.

“That’s adorable,” Garcia whispered, her voice unusually soft.

“Play one more,” Spencer said, his voice tight. “Please.”

Penelope hesitated before opening the folder marked “Voicemails.” The file names were organized by date, and Penelope scrolled down until she found one titled “Last Voicemail.”

“Spence…” JJ said quietly.

“I need to hear it,” Spencer insisted.

Penelope clicked play.

“Hey, Spence!” Your voice burst through the speakers, light and full of energy. “I know you’re probably knee-deep in some criminal mastermind’s twisted head right now, but I just wanted to say I miss you. Oh, and…”

There was a pause, followed by muffled shuffling.

“Okay, okay, I’m ready!” Your voice returned, playful now. “I have something important to tell you…”

Another voice — Spencer’s voice — cut in faintly from the background.

“Wait, what are you doing?”

“Recording your new voicemail greeting, obviously,” you teased. “Come on, it’ll make you smile when you check your messages.”

There was more muffled laughter, then you continued in your most dramatic voice:

“Hello! You’ve reached the phone of the one and only Dr. Spencer Reid. He’s probably off being a genius right now, so please leave a message — and don’t forget to ask about statistics, he loves that.”

“I do not love that,” Spencer’s voice mumbled in the background.

You burst out laughing. “Okay, love you, nerd. Call me back.”

The voicemail ended with a beep.

Spencer pressed his hand to his mouth, his eyes fixed on the screen. For a moment, he couldn’t speak. He couldn’t breathe. The warmth of your voice — your laugh — it felt so close yet impossibly far away.

“You still have her number?” Morgan asked softly.

Spencer blinked, his hand slowly lowering. “I… yeah.”

“Try calling her,” JJ encouraged.

Spencer hesitated, but then slowly reached for his phone. His fingers hovered over the contact button — Y/N — for a moment before he pressed Call.

The room was so quiet you could hear the faint buzzing as the line rang once… twice…

Then came your voice — that same playful greeting that spilled from the speakers moments before:

“Hello! You’ve reached the phone of the one and only Dr. Spencer Reid. He’s probably off being a genius right now, so please leave a message — and don’t forget to ask about his statistics, he loves that…”

Spencer’s breath hitched.

“I do not love that,” his own voice muttered faintly from the recording.

“Okay, love you, nerd. Call me back.”

The voicemail beeped. Spencer just sat there, phone still pressed to his ear. His voice shook when he finally spoke.

“Y/N… it’s me.” His voice cracked. “If… if you get this, please — please call me back. I just need to know you’re safe.”

He ended the call and set his phone down, his fingers trembling.

“We’ll find her,” JJ promised again, her hand squeezing his arm.

Spencer didn’t look up. His gaze remained locked on the screen, still frozen on your face — smiling, warm, and so painfully alive.

“The invitation… it looks like a wedding invitation…” Emily mused, holding it to the light.

“Yeah or a funeral if we don’t hurry. Wheels up in 10.” Hotch announced, walking out quickly.

The BAU’s jet cruised steadily through the sky, but Spencer couldn’t seem to sit still. He shifted in his seat, eyes flickering from the case file on the table to the phone resting in his lap — still silent. The unanswered call gnawed at him.

Across from him, Rossi watched quietly, fingers curled around his coffee mug. Derek leaned back in his chair, arms crossed as he studied Spencer.

“You’re doing that thing again,” Derek said finally, breaking the silence.

“What thing?” Spencer asked distractedly, still glancing at his phone.

“That thing where you’re in your head so deep you might as well start charging rent,” Derek teased, but his tone was softer than usual.

Spencer sighed and set his phone down. “I can’t stop thinking about her,” he admitted.

“Good,” Rossi said simply, setting his mug down with a quiet clink.

Spencer blinked. “Good?”

“Yeah,” Derek chimed in. “If this guy’s targeting her, we need to know everything about her — who she is, what she cares about, what makes her stand out. That’s how we build the profile.”

“I know,” Spencer murmured, his fingers tracing the edge of the file. “It’s just… I don’t know what’s relevant.”

“Then start from the beginning,” Rossi encouraged. “Tell us about her.”

Spencer hesitated for a moment, unsure where to start. But once the memories began to surface, they spilled out like water breaking through a dam.

“She’s… different from me,” Spencer said softly. “Where I overthink everything, she’s spontaneous. She’s the type of person who’ll pull over just because she spotted a cute bakery and decided we had to try it.” He smiled faintly. “She doesn’t need a reason to be happy — she just… is.”

“Sounds like you’re pretty taken with her,” Derek said with a knowing grin.

Spencer’s smile widened. “I was — I mean… I still am.”

He glanced down at his phone again, hoping for a missed call, a message — anything.

“She loves color,” Spencer continued, his voice softer now. “Her whole apartment had these soft pastel accents — blankets, mugs, flowers… all delicate and warm. She always wore perfume that smelled like vanilla. You could walk in and just know you were in her space.”

Derek chuckled. “I can’t picture you in a pink room.”

Spencer’s smile turned wistful. “It didn’t matter. Anywhere was fine with her.”

“She sounds like she grounded you,” Rossi said.

“She did,” Spencer nodded. “And… she has this dream — one that always seemed so simple, but it meant everything to her.” He paused. “She wanted this little white house — nothing fancy, just something cozy — with a white picket fence and a big backyard. She wanted dogs — at least two, maybe three.” He chuckled softly. “She even had names picked out.”

Rossi smiled. “A dreamer.”

“She’s always been like that,” Spencer said, his voice quiet but warm. “She believed in fairytales — the real kind, where everything works out in the end.”

“You think she’d still go for that?” Derek asked. “The house, the dogs?”

“I know she would,” Spencer said with certainty. “Even when things were hard, she never stopped believing in that life — in finding comfort and love wherever she could.”

“Did she have a favorite place?” Rossi asked. “Somewhere she’d feel safe?”

“Yeah,” Spencer said, his brow furrowing in thought. “She loved this café — Mason’s Corner. She used to sit in the back corner with her headphones on, sipping iced coffee and writing in her journal. She’d lose track of time there.”

“Sounds like someone who chases the simple things,” Rossi noted.

“She does,” Spencer said softly. “She doesn’t need much to be happy — just a good book, an iced coffee, and somewhere quiet to think.”

Derek’s expression softened. “That’s what makes her special, man — that’s the stuff that sticks out. Whoever’s watching her isn’t just targeting her because of you… they know her. The way she thinks, what she wants. Everything you just told us — that’s what’s going to help us find her.”

Spencer looked down at his phone again, the screen still dark.

“I just hope she still believes in happy endings,” he whispered.

[hearts4hughes]

bambi!reader not realizing she’s wandered into rafe’s deal and he has to gently tug her behind him to keep her out of trouble

₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁ᡣ𐭩ྀིྀིྀི BAMBI!READER

you don’t even realize you’ve wandered too far.

it’s warm out, air heavy and sweet, and you’re trailing behind the music, fingers brushing the tall grass as you go.

rafe told you to stay put— to sit pretty while he finished his work. and you listened… for the first ten minutes.

but the lights were loud and the people were louder and you couldn’t find the water bottle he gave you. your phone was dead, and your legs were sore, and, well, you just wanted to see him.

you spot him before he sees you. he’s tucked away behind a row of trailers, lowlight catching on the sharp cut of his jaw. he’s talking to two men you’ve never seen before. they’re older, rough around the edges, the kind of guys that make your stomach twist for no real reason.

you hesitate. pink nails tightening on your skirt. “rafe?” your voice is soft, sweet.

his head whips around. fast. his eyes cut straight to yours and the look on his face makes your heart stutter. “what the fuck are you doing here?”

he’s already moving. crossing the dirt in long strides, one hand coming to your waist, the other curling tight around your wrist.

“baby—fuck. i told you to stay back.” he mutters through gritted teeth, his hand rubbing his face up and down.

you blink up at him, lips parted, all innocent. “i—i just wanted to see you.” you look down, memorizing the pleats in your skirt. your flats shuffle in the dirt.

his jaw ticks. he glances over his shoulder, mutters something low to the guys, and then turns fully back to you. his hands slide to your hips, holding you firm, like he’s grounding himself.

“you can’t just walk into shit like that, alright? you don’t know what’s going on out here.” his voice is low, yet softer than before.

your bottom lip wobbles, not from tears, but because the adrenaline’s caught up. you nod, soft.

he exhales through his nose. takes your chin between two fingers and tilts your face up. “look at me.” you hesitantly look up. “you listen next time, yeah?”

you nod again. he softens and pulls you in against his chest, one hand splayed protectively between your shoulder blades.

“jesus,” he mutters into your hair. “just go back to the car before you give me a heart attack.”

taglist ~ @ren-ni @bungurus @kayperrysinging @cupids-diner @13hischiers @babygirlboeser @makiplan @ladyatwalmart @qversazex @favbrnette @xoxosblogsblog @nothingtosee333her @soft-starr @f10werfae

[ambros1an]

sunday x reader - halovian courtship

warning: no spoilers, gn! reader, pining/soft sunday, Sunday info dumping as usual

summary: where Sunday will do everything except confess, and you just think he’s emotionally stunted.

a/n: i read about birds for this

halovian courting rituals

1. Gift giving. Like their close bird companions, Halovians participate in 'nuptial gifts,' a form of gift giving to a potential partner.

You were walking into the Oak Family Headquarters, Dewlight Pavilion, sent to deliver some letters. Although, you’ve been here before, it was still a bit nerve wracking to be in such a place, undetached from your usual position as a lower end employee.

The entrance to Oak Family Head’s office was right in front of you. You bite your lip, shifting the documents to your other arm and knock.

“Nightingale Famil-“

The door swings open. The family head holding the door stands to the side.

“Ah,” Sunday says your name, “it’s you.”

Your eyes widen, blinking a couple times. He remembers me?

“Yes, it’s nice to see you again Mr. Sunday. I’ve come with documents from the Nightingale family detailing a new plan for the dreamscape.”

He looks a bit disappointed?

He chuckles, then calls out to a lone employee, “you’re dismissed for today, I’ll take care of the rest.”

The Oak employee dips his head and leaves. Watching him leave fills a pit in your stomach.

“Mr. Sunday, is something wrong?”

Sunday sits up suddenly, “Oh, no. Not at all.” It’s that movement that makes you realize that he’s been fidgeting with something in his lap…Is he always like this?

“I guess I was just a bit surprised,” he smiles, looking down to the side. You caught him.

“Surprised? To see me?” Although Sunday and you have met a few times. It was always business, just like now—well maybe he did stare a bit intently at you before, but something really was different this time!

He looks up and sheepishly slides a box across the table. “Take it as…being a good part of The Family.”

For a few moments, your eyes set upon him. What is he planning? It’s a small box. Almost nothing could fit in there. You lift the top up.

You gasp. Earrings worth more than your entire life’s salary. You slam it shut.

“M-Mr. Sunday. This really isn’t necessary. I just—“ you ramble on. Sunday places his gloved hand on yours.

“Please, take it.”

Looking into his eyes, you realize that putting up a fight with the Oak Head won’t get you anywhere. You reluctantly take the box.

2. Preening. Similar to nature, touching a Halovian's wings is an intimate gesture to show one's interest in a romantic partner. Someone should never touch a Halovian's wings without asking!

Soon after, you come across Sunday again. This time at the Nightingale Family’s institution. You were putting away blueprints, plans and documents your coworkers left laying around haphazardly. When a familiar voice calls out to you.

“Good evening. Working hard, I see.”

“Mr. Sunday?”

He approached you, then looked around the room. He seemed to realize the situation you were in and scorned your coworkers. He mumbled something about you and moving to the “Oak Family.” As he spoke his wings were fluttering. They looked smooth and soft.

“You’ve been staring at my wings. Do they interest you that much?” He chuckles.

“Well, they are very pretty but—“

“Would you like to touch them?” A light blush spreads across his face. Despite that, he seemed perfectly poised. His hands clasped behind his back, standing straight and looking right at you.

“I-is that alright?” tumbles from your lips. You hesitantly reach out.

“I wouldn’t have offered otherwise.”

Upon touching them, Sunday’s wings twitched away from you before settling down. The feathers are soft and plush. Some are darker in color while others are more pale. They’re surprisingly fluffy. A bit like fur but more delicate.

The blush darkened, his gaze shifted off to the wall. His composure utterly broken, his hands fidgeted behind his back.

“Did you know that birds groom each other as a social activity? It occurs between…ma-members of a flock.” He sputters. What is he saying?

Your fingers stroking his feathers create a flutter within his stomach. He leans into the touch. Taking that as a sign to continue, you reach farther up, a light brush into the coverts of his feathers. Sunday gasps and pulls away.

“…You must take good care of them. Are all Halovian wings soft like yours?”

He wishes that moment would never end.

3. Song. During courtship rituals many birds of different species tend to sing and dance. While that is popular among Halovian people, some may chose show affection through instruments instead.

One day, a notice appears at your door. Upon examining it you realize it’s an invitation from Sunday, instructing you to his office within the Dewlight Pavilion.

Could it be about the documents you sent him last time? You wrack your brain for any possible explanation. He had been acting weirder than usual.

Heat build up in your face upon recalling Sunday’s recent appreciation for you. The earrings that are far too expensive to wear anywhere, and even worse—you bury your face into your hands. In a profound display of unprofessionalism, he let you touch his wings.

Still, every muscle in your body jittered with excitement, even though it shouldn’t.

♫ ♬ ♩

Suddenly, the closer you got, the more the hallway echoed with the sound of a violin. Slowly, you carefully stepped towards the sound, till you found its source.

Sunday was playing the violin. You couldn’t help but freeze where you were and watch him. He truly did look like angel. As he drew his bow across the strings, the light from the window shined down on him. His hair reflected the light appearing almost white. Was he always this beautiful?

Abruptly, he stands up, “You’re early. Sorry, I didn’t hear you come in.”

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to startle you,” you closed the door behind you, “I didn’t know you could play. What song was it?”

He places the violin down on his table and approached you, “It’s ‘Salut d’amor,’ one of the first pieces I learned how to play,” Sunday put his hand behind his back, “the dream master was the one that taught me.”

“It was very pretty, I can tell you’ve been playing for a long time.”

“Thank you.” A light blush spreads onto his cheeks, but it’s gone before you can realize it.

A loud silence sweeps the room. The two of you avert your eyes. This side of Sunday feels so different from what you’ve been told. He always maintains a professional barrier. But if so, what was this?

Sunday calls your name, “how do you feel about me?”

“What?” The question is so out of the blue, you must’ve heard wrong, “I think you’re a nice guy—“

“I meant as a partner, I thought you knew. Was I not obvious enough?” He mumbles over the last sentence.

“I—well—“ you stumble over your words. He was serious. The earrings, the wing touching, the invitation. You dismissed it as him buttering you up. The ‘most handsome man in Penacony’ as delegated by the latest magazines, had feelings for you?

Your face felt so hot, you felt as if you could combust into flames at any moment, “I feel the same.”

His expression softened. “That’s a relief, I don’t have to cancel those reservations then.”

“Reservations?! Mr. Sunday-“

“Just Sunday. I’ll pick you up later then,” he smiled, then placed his hand near your ear, as if looking for something, “Oh, but this time remember to wear those earrings.”

a/n #2: soft Sunday is real, did u see how protective he was of Robin in the quest? i need more hoyo. feed my delusion

[satrs]

Say please.

SYNOPSIS. He falls under your control, lost in a messy mix of power, desire, and reckless passion. How far will he let you take him?

TAGS. MDNI! 18+ CONTENT!. unprotected intercourse. subby guys !!! Bréeding. size k!nk(?). a lil' soft in xav's. B job. handjob. guided màsturbation. praising. P job. Bòndage in caleb's. degradation in caleb's. chokíng in caleb's. dirty talk. edging. overstim. nìpple play. riding. Use of "good boy". TEASING. needy/shameless caleb. bratty sylus & rafayel. blindfolding in zayne's. mention of marrige in zayne's ^^.

FEAT. Xavier. Zayne. Rafayel. Sylus. Caleb. xfem!reader

✎ A/N; I'm ovulating so here ya go. D!CK THEM DOWN! D!CK THEM DOWN!. I’ll never beat the gooner allegations Sighhh. Have a nice read and day/night! <3

XAVIER ・❥・Lazybones!?

"You know",

You lean down, brushing your fingers through his golden strands, feeling their silkiness between your fingertips before cupping his face gently, tilting it up so he had no choice but to meet your gaze. His lashes flutter, pupils blown wide, his lips parted as a soft, needy whimper escapes him.

“You’re such a lazy boy, Xav’,” you murmur, your voice both teasing and firm. “I think we need to change that, don’t we?”

His breath hitched, his expression betraying just how much he needed this—needed you.

“Y-yes,” he whispers, voice trembling, his fingers twitching at his sides like he was waiting for permission to reach for you. “Please.”

A small, satisfied smile tuggs at your lips.

You lean down, capturing his lips in a slow, deliberate kiss. It's deep but unhurried, your mouth moving against his with a gentleness that belied the control you held over him.

Control you knew he loved.

You let it linger just long enough to leave him breathless before pulling back, a slick line of saliva connecting you both as you relish in the way he let out a soft whine, his body instinctively following, as if seeking more.

His chest rose and fell beneath your touch, his skin warm beneath your fingertips as you trace slow patterns down his torso, mapping the lean lines of his body. You're not in a hurry because, why would you? This is something to be savored.

“I want you to touch yourself for me, Xav'.” you murmur, voice calm but commanding.

His breath hitches again, and he let out the tiniest whimper in protest, his thighs pressing together for a moment before he hesitantly moves his hands. “Baby, please” he mumbles, babbling, even, barely audible, but obeyed nonetheless.

You watch him, every movement, every flicker of expression, your own fingers continuing to trace his skin, teasing, but never quite giving him the relief he sought.

You lean in, lips grazing the shell of his ear as you whisper, “Good boy, doing so well for me. Keep going.”

A shiver runs through him at your praise, his breath coming in soft, needy gasps as he follows your instructions. His movements become more eager, more desperate, but you not going to give in just yet. You reach down, your hand ghosting over his, guiding him, controlling the pace, making sure he didn’t rush.

“No need to hurry,” you sooth, voice a soft murmur against his skin. “Want you to feel everything.”

He whimpers at that, head tipping back against the pillows, exposing the elegant curve of his throat as another desperate sound escapes him. The sight's intoxicating.

His Hair splashed onto the pillow in a halo, rosey cheeks evident on his porcelain skin. Shallow breath against the shell of your ear as your fingers just barely trace at the base of his pained cock, pre spurting in need.

Your fingers slide down, intertwining with his, movements slow and calculated. He lets out another needy whine, breath stuttering, his body trembling beneath your touch. You take your time, drawing out every moment, the reapearing schlick schlick, schlick sound of his hurried wrist turning his brain into a mindless goo.

“Look at me, Xav'.”

His heavy-lidded gaze snaps to meet yours, pupils blown, lips trembling as he lets out another quiet plea. “Urghhh, P-please, I need—need you.”

Finally, you position yourself above him, thighs caging his shacking ones inbetween them, guiding his hand away and replacing it with your own.

He lets out a broken sigh, his fingers gripping the sheets as he surrenders completely to your touch. His body's yours to command, every breath, every movement dictated by the unspoken rhythm you set.

Your thumb catches onto his sensitive tip, draaaaging along his leaking slit so tortorously slow, wicked even. “Such a sweet boy,” you murmur, tracing the curve of his jaw before pressing soft kisses down the column of his throat. “So good for me.”

His fingers tremble as they clutch at the sheets, his legs shifting restlessly, breath coming in soft, uneven gasps. Every time your fingers catch onto a prominent vein along his shaft, he let out the most delicate whimpers, his body pliant beneath you.

It's a symphony of desperate need, each note echoing his obedience to you and you only.

You move with patience, savoring every tremor, every breathless gasp that leaves his lips. His body arched instinctively toward you, his moans growing more desperate, more pleading. “Please, pleasepleaseplease—”

You hush him with another kiss, deep and slow, sighing into his mouth as your fingers never cease their careful exploration. “Shhhhh,” you usher against his lips, “just let me take care of you.”

His head lolls back against the pillow, exposing his flushed skin, his chest rising and falling in uneven rhythm. The soft, whiny sounds that leave him sent a thrill through you, a heady mixture of power and devotion surging in your veins.

Time seemed to slow, stretching each second into something tangible, something euphoric. His every movement, every sound, is an offering to you, a wordless expression of trust and desire. The way he looks at you, eyes glossy with need, lips parted as if searching for the words to beg properly.

It makes your heart race.

“You’re so beautiful like this,” brushing your fingers over his wet, parted lips. He instinctively kisses your fingertips, sloppy, another soft wail slipping from his throat.

He nods, barely able to form words, his body shivering as you continue to toy with him, drawing out his pleasure, making him feel every ounce of what you're giving him. “Only for you,” his, voice breathless, rushed and desperate.

You reward him with another lingering kiss, swallowing his whimpers, fist twisting around his girth with tender control. His hands cling to you weakly, his body pliant beneath your touch.

Every movement, every sound, tells you exactly what he needs, and you give it to him in slow, deliberate jerks, focusing in on his keen crown, drawing out the moment until he's trembling from the sheer intensity of it all.

And when you finally allow him release, a deep surrender that leaves him panting beneath you, utterly spent yet completely at peace.

Fingers coated in his white, sticky semen, twitching cock still firmly in your hand as you milk him to the last drop, the lewd whines follwing suit. His fingers weakly reach for you, and you pull him close, letting him sink into your warmth, his soft, satisfied sigh filling the space between you.

“Good job,” pressing a kiss to his temple, you brush damp strands of hair from his face. He nuzzles into your touch, a sleepy, contented hum escaping him as he melts against you.

ZAYNE・❥・ So sensitive!

“My gosh, Zayne,”

you muse, fingers dancing over his glistening skin. Zayne shudders beneath you, his breath shaky as he grips the sheets. The warm glow of the bedside lamp casts soft shadows over his flushed form, every inch of him betraying his need.

You’re perched right above him, hips rolling just enough to tease, to keep him on edge. God, he's about to loose his mind.

He’s always so composed, so in control in every other part of his life, but here, with you, he’s wrecked, bare to your mischevous antics.

“Now, now, what’s got you so worked up, hm?” Your voice drips with amusement as you drag your fingers along his chest, feeling his heartbeat hammering beneath his skin.

"You know damn well—"

His lips part, but all that comes out is a heavy groan. You smile, leaning down to brush your lips against his jaw before whispering, “You can use your words, can’t you?”

Zayne swallows, hard, hands twitching like he wants to touch you but knows better than to move without permission. “Y-you—” His voice is barely a whisper, so wrecked already.

You tilt your head, “I-I -I what?” you mock him, stern, comanding voice almost startling him if it doesn't only make him grow harder against your tummy.

“You’re teasing me,” he breathes, heavy, piercing gaze of his making you giggle.

"Mhm," you hum in agreement, tracing his jawline before suddenly slipping a silk blindfold over his eyes, his vision going dark.

He inhales sharply, body tensing before melting beneath you. He loves this—loves the way you take away one of his senses, making him focus only on your touch, your words, the warmth of your body against his.

“So sensitive tonight,” you murmur, your fingers dancing lower, tracing his hipbones before ghosting over his eager, angry cock, not quite touching, just enough to make him whine.

He shifts beneath you, trying to get more friction, but you lift yourself just out of reach. “Patience, love.”

"Please." Zayne’s head tilts back against the pillow, a soft sound of frustration escaping him followed by a silent plea, making a smirk dance across your features, running your nails lightly down his chest. “Please what?”

He lets out a small, needy sigh. “Please, my darling wife. T-touch me.”

“Gladly.” you muse, pressing a soft kiss to his throat before finally wrapping your tender fingers around him. His breath stutters, a deep, broken moan slipping past his lips as you stroke him slowly.

His body twitches with each movement, and you can tell he’s already close—so responsive, so beautifully sensitive to every little touch.

“My husband 's doin' such an amazing job,” you whisper against his ear, your voice sending a shiver through him. “Had such a rough day, didn't you?”

“Y-yes,” he gasps, his hips twitching up into your hand.

You reward him with a slow, deep stroke, relishing the way he trembles beneath you. But then you stop, pulling your hand away entirely, leaving him aching.

Zayne lets out a soft whimper, his hands gripping the sheets tighter. “D-darlin'—”

You interrupt him with a light chuckle, dragging your nails down his stomach. “Relaaax. M' gonna take good care of you, yes?"

Before he can even think to answer, a whine slips from his lips as you shift, finally lowering yourself onto his lap, his tip catching your clit, robbing a shriek from you. He shudders violently at the sensation, his breath coming in short, desperate gasps as you glide along his length, slow, savoring, teasing.

“Feels so good,” you murmur, your hands sliding up his chest as you lose your patience, hand grasping the base of his throbbing cock before you align it to your flexing hole, sloooowly sink down onto him.

Zayne lets out a deep, broken moan, his head falling back against the pillow as you begin to rock your hips at a steady pace, thirsty hips claiming him, leaving him breathless. His hands twitch at his sides, wanting to hold you, to ground himself, but he knows better than to mess this up.

“That’s it,” you praise, rolling your hips just enough to drive him wild. “Taking it so well. C'mon, don't be shy now. Touch me. M' your wife, no?”

His hands finally reach for you, fingers digging into your thighs, his desperation evident in the way he clings to you. You let him have this, let him hold on, because he’s been so good, so obedient.

Breath hitching, his entire body trembling beneath you as his fingers twitch, desperate, in search for your hips now, delicately wrapping them around your waist, careful and wary.

He can feel the blindfold slipping slightly from his face, his intense breath turning him light-headded— he can't do noting but releash in the pleasure of your compressed hole choking him as if you've forgotten he's your husband— as if you wanted to kill him.

“I— I don’t— Can't-"

“You can,” you whisper softly, leaning in to press a kiss against his lips, a broken whimper from you following suit “You’re doing sooo good, doctor.”

The teasing nickname only adding fuel to his spurting fire, fingers ironclad on your hips, just resting there, trying to give his mind some sense of control despite the barbarous whine of your hips and him barely able to keep up, hell— even to hold on.

The pleasure builds between you, slow and intoxicating, and Zayne is unraveling beneath you, his body shaking, his voice breaking as he gasps your name.

“I have such a sensitive husband, hm?,” you murmur teasing evident in your voice even with his eyes blindfolded, hips rocking against him in a tantalizing, almost selfish way, trailing kisses along his jaw as you guide him toward his release. “C'mon, fill me up.”

And he does.

He lets go with a shuddering cry, his entire body tensing before his cock spurts inside you with greed.

You're pressing soothing kisses to his skin as he comes down from the high, slown rocking of your hips draaaging it out further, thick spurts of cum never ending, his breath still uneven, you coo at him.

You finally remove the blindfold, letting him blink up at you with dazed, glassy eyes.

He looks so beautiful like this—flushed, spent, utterly at your mercy.

“Did so well,” you whisper, brushing a damp strand of hair from his forehead.

He exhales shakily, his hands still holding onto you. “You’re going to be the death of me, dear” he mutters, voice hoarse.

You laugh softly, pressing one last kiss to his lips.

“Only in the best way.”

RAFAYEL・❥・Watch but don't touch!

"Nuh uhhh. Hands to yourself."

Your bottom lip cages between your teeth at his frustrated whine, eyes closed shut as your delicate hand swats his away.

Kitten licks against his angry cock head make his eyes roll to the very back of his skull, thigh clenching at any slight movement of yours. Teasingly, you blow against his stiff length, giggling at his hip stuttering up into the air.

"N-No fair", he says with such an adorable pout on his handsome face, you almost feel sorry.

Almost.

"M' just having a little fun, don't be a kill joy now", you muse, tongue lolling out with a wicked grin to your face that just screams you're up to no good.

His head falls back against the backrest of the couch with a loud groan once his senses get engulfed by your mouth throating his cock whole, sloppy gagging sounds reapeating over and over again- going on for hours now.

His head hurts.

Your warm mouth and his cockhead prodding at your tight throat with each headbop of yours. But once your hand sneaks under his thigh, goosebumps arising on his skin as you begin to fondle his hefty, cum-filled balls—

He's losing it.

"Urghhh, js' like that, m' gonna—"

A hitched breath gets caught in his throat, hips stuttering up into your mouth. Your hand firmly presses down onto his hip, plastering him still onto the couch so he wouldn't move.

"Do it, I dare you." you spit before resuming to your sloppy assault between his legs.

His head falls back, hand brushing over his face in frustration because he knows it's a threat.

"Please, baby. Pleaseee, pleaseplease, lemme'—"

"I told you. Do it."

His neck falls down, huffy breath hot as he meets your gaze, whining. And he knows what's about to dawn uppon him at the fierce look you shot him.

He knows he's fucked.

"No. Nononono, please don't be such a meanie, cutie. C'monnnn—!"

Your wicked smirk deepens as his chest heaves, every muscle in his body coiled tight like a bowstring about to snap.

His fingers twitch at his sides, aching to grab you, to tangle into your hair and ram into your mouth, but he knows better. He knows the rules you've laid out so cruelly, and the punishment that awaits if he dares to break them.

Hell— if he acts up, he might not be cumming at all tonight.

His cock throbs against your tongue, the weight of it heavy and hot in your mouth as you pull back just enough to flick your tongue over his slit, swirling the tip with slow, deliberate swipes, milking his poor swelling, mushroomy tip to it's limits, leaking pre indicating the brewing storm to soon come.

"Ohhh, baby, babybabybaby—"

Your hand tightens around the base of his cock, squeezing just enough to make him whimper, his hips desperately seeking the friction you're denying him. You pull off with a lewd pop, a thin trail of saliva connecting your lips to his flushed tip.

"What was that?" You ask innocently, tilting your head, fingers lazily stroking along his length, lewd moisty sounds ringing in his ear making him go dizzy. "Did you say something?"

His jaw clenches, the veins in his neck standing taut as he tries to reign himself in. But he’s losing the battle, his restraint unraveling with every teasing touch, every breathy giggle that escapes your lips.

"Y-You know damn well," he pants, frustrated, his fingers curling into fists on the sheets. "Need it. Need it soooo damn bad, cutie— nghhh!"

"Need what?" You interrupt with a tight head lock of your hand around his cock, sufforcating him, feigning confusion, as you pump him slow, torturous. His head slams back against the couch, almost snaping his neck with the force, a broken groan spilling from his throat.

"Use your words."

His breath shudders. "I need to cum."

"Mmm." You hum, considering. "You know, I don’t think you've earned it yet."

His eyes snap open, dark with desperation. "W-what? H-hahhh— c'mon now! S-stop it, js' fuckin'— godddd—"

Your free hand trails up his abdomen, fingers dancing over the sculpted ridges of his stomach before pressing down against his chest, pinning him in place. His heart hammers beneath your palm, each erratic thump evidence of just how close he is to unraveling.

"You wanna cum so bad?" You coo, leaning in, breath hot against his ear as you pump him faster, the slick sounds of your hand working him over making him whimper. "Then hold it. Don't you dare let go until I say so."

A strangled noise escapes his throat, his body shaking with effort. The need to release is overwhelming, every nerve in his body screaming for that final push over the edge. But he knows you're testing him, dangling his pleasure just out of reach, and he wants, no, needs, to be good for you.

"Ohhh, you're struggling, aren't you? Cute." You purr, dragging your tongue along the length of his swelling cock, reveling in the way his cock jumps in your grasp. "Poor thing, trying so hard."

"F-Fuck, I— I c-can’t—" he stammers, his voice wrecked with restraint, muscles locked in place as his climax hovers agonizingly close. So damn close he can taste it at the tip of his tongue.

Your smirk deepens. "Not yet."

His entire body seizes, his thighs trembling violently as you suddenly stop, your grip loosening entirely. His hips jerk up on instinct, desperately seeking the friction you’ve just denied him.

A choked whine spills from his lips, frustration darkening his gaze as he watches you lean back, tortured cock throbbing with need, reddish tip pulsating angrily, hefty balls squeezing in desperate need of release, you're licking your lips, savoring the taste of him.

"Awww, did you think I was going to let you finish?" You taunt, fingers dancing along his twitching thigh. "How silly of you."

His breath is ragged, cock twitching against his stomach, still leaking, still aching for the release you've stolen from him.

"You look so pretty like this," you muse, tracing idle circles against his hip. "I could do this all night. Over and over."

A shiver runs through him, his pupils blown wide because he knows you're not bluffing.

Your fingers brush over his cock one last time, teasing, just enough to make him shudder before you pull away entirely, standing up with a satisfied smirk.

"Who knows," You stretch, letting him see the full curve of your body as you climb onto his lap, casting him one last teasing glance, before you align his oozing tip to your entrance, pussy clenching around the hefty tip in excitement.

"Maybe you'll get to cum in me. How 's that sound?"

A broken groan escapes him, his hands gripping the couch in frustration. "Yer' evil."

With one last grin you sloooowly sink down on his length, lips caged between your teeth at the tantalizing strech, his hands brushing over his face at the immense pleasure and the sheer frustration of it all.

"And you love it."

Failing in trying to bite back his loud whine, his hips stutter up into yours, fully burying himself into you with one thrust, satisfied sigh rushing from his tense chest.

"I do."

SYLUS・❥・You were saying?

Sylus was a handful— a gorgeous, infuriating handful.

Cocky smirk, sharp tongue, and a tendency to push every single one of your buttons just to see how far he could get. But that was fine because tonight, he was going to learn exactly what happens when he teases too much.

"That's all you got? C'mon sweetie, you can do better than—"

You cut him off with a sharp grind of your hips, dragging yourself along his restrained form. The friction was intoxicating, your clit catching onto his silver happy trail, pulling a sharp moan from your lips.

"You were saying, Sy?" you mock, voice dripping with amusement.

Sylus squirms beneath you, his arms bound to the headboard, wrists tied tight with burgundy silk.

His cock twitches against his stomach, already leaking precum, but you aren't ready to give him what he wants just yet. You savor the sight of him, muscles tense, face twisted in frustration and pleasure.

"C'monnn," he muses, the brat in him still pushing. "I know you can do it."

Your hips never relent, never flatten, keeping a teasing pace that has him groaning, his body desperate for more. The tight clench of your velvet, silky walls around him, caging his crown so tightly in the depth of your pussy. And then—

A whine.

The Sylus just... whined?

You pause just enough to hear the hitch in his breath, the frustrated little sound he makes, like he's about to throw a tantrum. It makes something wicked curl in your stomach.

"Just—h-hahh, just—urghhh— slow down."

A cruel smile tugs at your lips. "Slow down? But didn’t ya' wanna tell me somethin'?" You tilt your head, faux innocence dripping from your voice.

Sylus tugs at the restraints, hips bucking uselessly. "You're driving me insane, sweetheart," he mutters, and you can hear the slightest edge of desperation creeping in.

"Good," you purr. "That means I'm doing a good job."

Oh, he's loving this.

You lean down, your breath ghosting over his throat before you press a lingering kiss there, your tongue flicking against his pulse point. He shivers beneath you, but when he tries to roll his hips up, seeking more friction, you immediately lift yourself off him, denying him entirely.

"C-come back." he gasps, eyes flying open, staring at you in sheer disbelief.

"Did ya' forget who's in charge here?" you coo, running a single finger down his abdomen, stopping just above where he wants you most. "Yer' not the leader of Onychinus when you're such a desperate mess under me, my darling Sy'."

His jaw clenches. "You can’t just—"

"I can do whatever I want."

Your voice is laced with authority, leaving no room for argument and he might bust right there, you're strict words sending more and more blood pumping to his already stiffened cock. "And right now, I think you need to learn some patience."

Sylus huffs, but the way his body trembles betrays his excitement. You trail a teasing hand lower, barely brushing over his cock before pulling away entirely. His frustrated groan sends heat straight to your buttony clit.

"You wanna be a brat, Sy? Then you get to wait."

His head falls back against the pillows, exhaling sharply. "You’re an evil woman."

You hum thoughtfully. "Maybe. But m' your evil woman. Besides," You lean down, eye to eye with those rubies of his, voice barely above a whisper and mere inches away from his moist lips, "you fucking love it."

And judging by the way his body quivers, the way his cock twitches in protest, you know you're absolutely right.

Shifting, you settle between his legs, your hands bracing against his thighs as you slowly press your slick folds against his length—not letting him inside, just rubbing yourself along him, teasing. His breath shudders, head tilting back, arms flexing against the restraints as his hips jerk.

"F-fuckkk," he breathes, voice strained.

"Language, Sylus."

His groan is almost pained, and you can’t help the way your smirk deepens. You drag yourself along his length again, letting your clit catch the head of his cock before rolling back down, watching him squirm beneath you.

"Please," he finally murmurs, voice breathy and wrecked.

"Hmmm?"

His jaw clenches, but the fight is draining from him. "Please, let me feel you."

You press a slow, deliberate kiss to his rosy cheek. "Do you really think you deserve it?"

His frustration bubbles over, his muscles tensing as he tugs at the restraints again. "I—fuck—I'll be good. Just— please."

That’s all you needed to hear.

Finally, you sink down onto him, inch by inch, letting yourself stretch around his length as he groans beneath you.

His head presses back against the pillows, eyes fluttering shut as a long, desperate moan spills from his lips. His body trembles beneath you, entirely at your mercy.

You waste no time setting a pace that has him unraveling, your hips rolling with practiced precision, walls tightening around him just enough to keep him teetering on the edge. He’s panting, groaning, cursing under his breath, everything, really.

"H-hahh, honey, please—" he chokes out, muscles flexing with restraint.

You grin, knowing he’s barely holding on. "Not yet," you murmur, dragging your nails down his chest. "I’ll tell you when."

His entire body trembles, and you can feel his cock twitch inside you, warning you that he’s so damn close. You clench around him, but keep your pace steady, greedy walls contracting around him, hitching his breath each time, teasing him, holding him on that delicious edge.

You grind your clit against his pelvis, your own pleasure coiling tight in your stomach, and your moans start to mix with his. The build-up is intoxicating, and you can feel yourself tipping closer to release.

Fingers finding his nipples, you roll them between your fingertips, drawing a sharp growl from him, soon latching your mouth onto one sensitive bud with a wicked smile, his body arching into yours.

"J-just a little longer," you whisper, voice aswell as your movement stuttering as he rams at your cervix, leaning over him, your lips brushing the shell of his ear. "Don't give up on — fuck!— on me y-yet."

Those words only worsen his condition as his cock jumps inside you, his moans turn into desperate whimpers, his body tensing beneath you. "I—I can't hold it anymore," he gasps, voice aswell as his confident, dominant facade cracking with need.

"You will." you command, biting down on his earlobe.

Tears threaten to well at the corners of his eyes, his body shaking, every muscle locked in anticipation. You almost feel bad.

Maybe you should cut him some slack.

"Now, Sylus," you finally whisper, voice thick with pleasure, "cum for me."

The command shatters him. His hips jerk as he spills into you with a deep, guttural moan, his entire body wracked with trembling aftershocks. The sensation of him pulsing inside you pushes you over the edge, pleasure crashing through you in waves as you cry out, body clenching around his.

For a moment, all you can hear is heavy breathing, the aftermath of pleasure settling into your limbs. You brush a hand down his chest, soothing him as he slowly comes down, his eyes hazy, a satisfied smirk tugging at his lips.

"Told ya you could do better," he murmurs, breathless and wrecked.

You chuckle, leaning down to press a kiss against his jaw. "And I told you I'd put you in your place."

His laugh is soft, spent. "Guess I should nudge you off more often."

You grin, fingers tightening around the restraints still holding him in place. "Careful what you wish for, Sy'. You might not be able to handle it."

"Try me."

CALEB・❥・Lovin' it.

Caleb is a man of discipline, restraint, and quiet devotion, a gentleman in the streets and, well, something else entirely when you have him beneath you like this—fully at your mercy. Wrecked and ruined.

And loving every second of it.

You straddle his waist, watching the way his chest rises and falls, his breaths shallow and desperate. His wrists are tied to the headboard, rope digging deliciously into his milky skin, and his flushed face is a sight to behold.

Disheveled brown hair clings to his sweat-slick forehead, his lips parted as he pants beneath you, his body trembling with overstimulation from the aftermath of his previous orgasm, his sticky semen clinging to your walls.

"P-please, baby. Yer' killin' me here."

Your nails drag down his chest, leaving faint red trails in their wake, your hips still grinding mercilessly against his overstimulated cock, dragging out every last ounce of pleasure he has left to give.

"Oh, come on," you purr, tilting your head as you roll your hips with slow, deliberate intent, hand forcefully pushing him down onto the bed.

"You're being a fuckin' liar. You love it. Just look at yourself."

His head tilts back against the pillow, exposing the elegant column of his throat as a broken groan spills from his lips. His body twitches, trembling, and his bound hands flex, fingers curling as though searching for something to hold onto.

Oh yeah, you’ve got him.

"You like being used like this, don’t you, Caleb?" you continue, dragging your fingers up his throat, thumb pressing into the side of his jaw just enough to make his breath hitch. "Like my own personal toy."

His entire body jerks beneath you, another wrecked sound slipping from his lips. The way he responds so beautifully to every single thing you do is intoxicating, so lovestruck and utterly in love with you, falling victim to each of your antics, making the heat in your belly burn hotter, the wetness between your thighs even slicker—if that's even possible.

"Fuckin' perv," you murmur, your grip on his throat tightening just enough to make his pulse quicken. "All spread out for me, taking everything I give you, hm?"

A strangled whimper escapes him, his hips bucking helplessly. His cock twitches inside you, still sensitive, still aching, but he’s at your mercy. There’s nothing he can do but take it.

"S’too much," he slurs, voice thick with pleasure, his body trembling with each roll of your hips. "I—fuck, I can't—"

"Can't what?" you taunt, your free hand moving to tug lightly at his nipple, relishing the way his breath stutters. "Can't handle how good I make you feel?" You tighten your grip around his throat, just enough to make him whimper. "I think you can. I think you fucking love it."

His moans are nothing short of sinful, his body arching into you as if begging for more despite his protests. His flushed chest rises and falls, his bound wrists struggling against the silk restraints, but there's no real fight left in him.

He’s too far gone, drunk on the sensation of you using him like this, taking what you need over and over again, he can barely count how many times he's spurted weak shots of his cum into you. But he can't have enough. He wants more.

"Look at you," you coo, easing the grip on his throat only to drag your fingers down his jaw, thumb tracing his bottom lip. "So desperate. So needy. And you call yourself a gentleman?"

His eyes flutter open, glassy and desperate. "M'—nghhh!, m' a gentleman—"

You let out a cruel little laugh. "Not right now. Right now, you’re just a needy, pathetic mess."

He groans, the sound dissolving into something dangerously close to a sob when you shift your hips, grinding your clit against him, drawing another pulse of pleasure from his already overstimulated cock.

"I—baby—" he gasps, eyes squeezing shut as he trembles. "I'm gonna—"

"Gonna cum?" Your voice is firm, commanding, and his entire body stiffens, obeying instinctively. "You're gonna pump me full like a good boy, hm?"

His breath shudders, his fingers clenching into tight fists. "Y-yeah. Yes. Fuck! Yesyesyes. M' yer' g-good boy. All yers'."

"Mhmmm. All mine. My sweet boy."

The praise alone makes his cock twitch, balls swelling, and you smirk, pressing a slow, lingering kiss to his throat before biting down just enough to make him whimper.

"Js' a little longer, mkay?"

He moans again, his entire body thrumming with desperation.

"I bet you’d let me keep you like this all night, wouldn’t you?"

He lets out a broken, gasping sound, barely able to speak. "Yes—fuck! — yes, please. Pleasepleaseplease use me. All of me. I—"

You keep riding him, gyrating your hips against his in harsh rams, watching as he grows more desperate, thighs trembling beneath you, his moans turning into pleading little whimpers.

"Please, pips," he finally gasps, his voice barely above a breath. "Please let me cum. I'll be good. Gonna- fuh-fuckkkk! Gonna take it. M' yer' good boy, right?"

Your fingers tighten around his throat again, your other hand reaching down to trail across his chest, biting back a moan as his cock smooches your womb with his twitch alone. "You wanna cum, Caleb?"

"Yesyesyes- Wanna- need ta'," he whines, his entire body tense, voice cracking under the weight of his desperation, hands scrambling against the tight rope around his wrist. "Please—please, I need it, I need you."

"You need me?" You smirk, dragging your nails down his chest again. "Yeah, I know you do. Look at you, fuckin' ruined. It's almost p-pathetic, really."

You're right there with him, your own climax coiling hot and tight in your stomach, and you lean down, lips brushing against his ear as you whisper, "Cum for me, Caleb. Fill me up real good, yeah?"

The command is all it takes to break him.

His entire body tenses, back arching off the bed as he spills thin spurts of weak cum inside you with a deep, shuddering moan, his bound hands flexing uselessly above his head, almost ripping the headboard with his sheer strength.

The feeling of him cumming, the heat, the pulse of him inside you sends you over the edge, your own release crashing into you like a tidal wave. Your walls clench around him, milking him for everything he has left, and your own moans mix with his, filling the air with the sound of bliss and ruin.

When you finally regain your senses, you glance down at him, watching the way his chest still rises and falls in heavy pants, his golden hair sticking messily to his forehead. His wrists are red from pulling against the restraints, lips swollen from where he's bitten into them.

You smirk, leaning down to press a soft kiss to his jaw. "See? You can handle it."

His breathy little laugh is hoarse, his voice completely shot, tugging at the rope binding his hands. "D-don't know if I can survive another round, pips."

You grin, trailing your fingers over his chest, feeling the aftershocks still running through his body.

"Guess we’ll have to find out."

©︎SATRS. all rights reserved. Do NOT plagiarize, copy, modify, republish, or translate my work in any way!

[0bticeo]

mark grayson | love me like an innocent (and hold me tight)

summary: viltrumites are war-borne. the only love mark grayson has ever known is the crushing weight of his father's fist. you remedy that.

tw. viltrum!mark, mild blood and gore (it's the invincible show, c'mon), *gasp* hand holding, forehead kisses, reader playing with mark's hair. diabetes inducing amounts of fluff, mark being touch starvedTM. reference to this post.

in another universe, mark grayson is kind, softened by the tender touch of his mother. they call him invincible and his name means hope. there’s something like a boyish lilt to his grin. 

the mark grayson you know pulled you out of the rubble he buried you in, bloodied hand tight around your neck, and left you choking on his ultimatum. follow him or die.

and you were tired of cecil’s no-nonsense, find-a-way-to-beat-these-fuckers stare. tired of playing hero for a bunch of ungrateful scumbags, of ceaselessly bloodying your hands. crime is the many-headed hydra. it will never die. you will. 

you took mark’s hand and buried yourself in his arms. earth burned. 

the flames have settled, the only remaining source of heat being mark’s body, slotted against yours. markus sebastian grayson, clad in the cold colours of viltrum, white and gray molding him into a perfect picture of stoicism. you think of marble. glacial. haughty. 

he’s been… hovering, lately. lingering just out of the corner of your eyes, when the only thing you can catch a glimpse of is the lithe silhouette of him, all sharp angles and cold, eyes colder than the winter soil when frost bites and crops wither. you wonder if he trusts you. if he’s watching you, waiting for the inevitable slip up. 

(you hear the viltrumite talk among themselves. they are not kind - their kin never is. general kregg’s words are cutting. you were once earth’s best defender, with the weight of the sun bearing on your shoulders, liquid fire coursing through your veins. supernova, he mocks. do you really think of yourself as one of us?)

so here you are, on a viltrumite ship, arms crossed as you face the vastness of space. it’s cold, the void of it nipping at your skin despite your powers. you let out a heavy sigh. 

earth orbits before you. you hope it’s worth it, its desolation. the slaughter of the weak. you remember cecil’s gaze as you towered over the pentagon, clad in viltrumite colours. the fear. the betrayal. the knowledge that whatever failsafe he planned against you, to keep you contained, was not enough. the smell of his burnt flesh didn’t make your stomach churn.

a noise. a door sliding open, then shut. viltrumites abhor walking. there are no footsteps to recognise people by here. but there is only one person who comes and goes by the stark room they call your quarters. 

he comes to you with bloodied hands and heavy silence, the weight of it blanketing your shoulders. you do not know if you hate him for what he’s made you do. 

(you remember the regent emperor thragg standing before you and asking to prove yourself to the empire. you remember mark suggesting you lay waste on the pentagon, voice detached. you remember burning the GDA to the ground. self immolation at its peak.)

you see him, his reflection next to you, blood splattering his uniform, his cheeks, his hair. he does not speak. stands a mere few inches away from you. he’s warm, you think, you know, you feel. warm enough that you wonder why he burns, what is burning him. 

hesitantly, you brush your fingers against his. he stiffens, shoulders tensing in the prelude to viltrumite ultraviolence. you freeze, make a move to pull away. his fingers curl around yours, wrap tight and pull. 

your breath hitches, head resting on the angel wing of his collarbone, one you’ve traced the contours of one desperate, desperate night three months ago. you, mark, and so much grief you wanted to drown in it. you had never felt that cold in your life. mark had pulled you close, mouth feverish on yours, thumb smearing blood away from the corner of your lip. you’d melted. 

you’ve learned, then, panting and breathless in the wreckage left of the pentagon, hellfire burning, that viltrumites fuck like they fight. it wasn’t soft, the way mark took you and made you his own, it never was. you don’t think you’d want it any other way. you remember the way he looked at you when you cupped his cheek, the way he flinched when your skin touched his own, impossibly soft. he’s never known anything but his father’s fist.

three months later, and you’re a betrayer to your kin, lone human in a viltrumite ship. and one of their strongest warriors has his hands resting on your hips, thumbs brushing hesitantly over the thick material over your uniform, seeking, seeking. you do not understand why he’s drinking you in like he’s been starving for it, like he can only breathe when you’re around. why now? something like a low, broken little noise echoes in your ear. your eyes widen.

“mark? what’s wrong?”

you turn to face him, hand coming up to cradle his cheek. his breath hitches. you watch as he leans into your touch, the sharp angle of his cheek pressing against your palm. it feels like something is clicking. you meet his gaze. gone is the glacier edge to his eyes. they’re soft. infinitely soft, gazing at you as though you’re holding the universe in the palm of your hand. your heart skips a beat. then another.

something like a soft blush dusts his cheekbones, and you watch, bewildered, as he nuzzles your hand, a stray lock of hair brushing your knuckles. 

“mark?” you breathe. 

he glances away, fingers curling around your wrist. a shuddering breath escapes him, warm on your pulse. he feels it, the way your blood jumps under your skin, fluttering softly under his fingertips. you push away his hair from his face, comb the thick dark locks behind his ear. it’s gotten bloody again.

another soft noise.

“keep- keep doing that.”

“what?”

he nuzzles your hand, grip on your hip growing impossibly tighter.

“touching my hair,” he whispers, burying his face in the crook of your neck, blood and gore and viscera now clinging to you both.

you tut a little and gently push him away, eyeing the mess he’s made. blood drips down from his trembling fists to the floor, drip drip dripping red. your fingers lace with his.

“let’s get us cleaned up, yeah?”

blood drips down the shower. lately, it feels as though the only colours you’ve known are white, grey and red. so much red. too much red- 

mark’s hand cups your cheek. trembling. hesitant. like he doesn’t know what he’s doing. he doesn’t, you realise. not with the way viltrumites are, war-bent, destruction-borne. he’s trying. for you. your heart swells in your chest and you smile at him.

“hey.”

his lips curl in a rare smile, chasing the touch of your hands as they busy themselves in his hair, gently massaging his scalp. he’s practically purring under your touch, leaning down to give you better access.

“hey.”

you brush his split knuckles, the bruises blooming over his ribs, the deep gash above his adonis belt, already healing, reduced to a faint, pink line. he doesn’t flinch. only pulls you closer, chin on top of your head. you have to push him away to avoid getting soapy water in your eyes.

“who was the unlucky guy?”

“spawn.”

one of earth’s strongest. one of your colleagues. one of your frien- 

you sigh. inhale, exhale, until the only things that exist are you, mark, and the scalding stream of water trickling down on your skin. until mark pulls you out of the shower and lays you down in bed, barely dry, his head resting on your chest.

you’ve betrayed everything and everyone the moment your heart started beating for him. but here, with the way his lips curl into a half-smile, with the way he trails soft patterns over the small scar on your hip bone, your guilt eases.

“can you… can you play with my hair?” he whispers, burrowing himself in your chest.

you think he wants to crawl in it. make himself at home between your ribs, nestle against your heart and rest his weary head on it.

“yeah.”

in another universe, mark grayson is born soft and cradled by his mother’s warmth. in this universe, debbie grayson is dead, and all the love he ever knew was violence. he’s all sharp edges and cold gazes and bloodied fists, more weapon than human. 

yet, in the quiet of your room, he softens against you, guard lowered enough to let you press your lips to the crown of his hair. 

“let me love you,” you murmur.

he looks up at you, chin on your chest, eyes softer than you’ve ever seen them.

“rotten, useless work.”

you press your lips to his.

“not to me.”

(taking the liberty to tag a few ppl, as you guys seemed interested by poor lil mew mew viltrum mark: @gaiasmight @linkwho1 )