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beloveds-embrace · 4 months ago

Note

I feel like feral reader has the biggest, saddest eyes known to man when not on a mission, they just want love and pack. It's not their fault they're so feral. They were /made/ to be a weapon, when all they wanted was peace

If feral's an alpha - I can see them hunting down snacks and bringing it to the 141 like "look! I can provide! I can be gentle!" And just watching them eat with those (almost weirdly) big eyes.

If feral's an omega - I can see them hiding away and trying to frantically nest, to give themself somewhere safe. It's not right, there's no pack scent so it just pushes them further into the feral mentality, but (once) if feral swipes some of the packs' items, it does help. It's messy, it's too small, but its a nest, and its theirs and thats all that matters

And omg imagine if feral gets hurt and needs to be hospitalized

The higher ups demand that they be cuffed to the bed, but when the 141 sees feral, they see someone who's just scared. Scared of the hospital and scared of themself. They've been stripped of the muzzle, chains, and scent patches, and look so utterly /weak/. Their scent is distorted from the cruel use of scent blockers, meaning telling their designation from that is impossible.

And then they're so drugged up on pain meds that their walls are lower, and a /lot/ more talkative without their muzzle...

Igh just imagine the sweetest fluffiest angst that hurts so good

(Not a request, just some of my rambles)

👽

do you know that you ate with this ask? because you did. you absolutely did 😩 i loved reading all your thoughts about feral reader, especially the speculation of how they'd act depending on their designation!! the part abt the hospital works so well with what i had planned so i hope you like what i've added to it <33

CW: human trafficking omegaverse masterlist

The hospital room is quiet, sterile, and suffocating.

John clenches his jaw as he steps inside, his sharp eyes scanning every inch of the space. He sees the IV lines, the machines monitoring vitals, the thick, military-grade cuffs securing your wrists to the bed. You look so small like this- nothing like the unrelenting force they fought beside.

Here, right now, you’ve been stripped of everything that made you feral.

No muzzle, no reinforced collar, no scent patches suppressing your pheromones into oblivion. For the first time since you’d been forced into their pack, they could see you. And it guts them.

Because you aren’t some bloodthirsty creature bred for war.

You’re just scared.

Your fingers twitch weakly against the restraints, dull nails scratching uselessly at the cuffs, but there’s no real struggle. No vicious snapping of teeth, no blank, unfeeling stare of a tool awaiting its next order. You barely even react to them entering the room.

Your scent is muddled- soured by years of suppressant use, reduced to something broken and incomplete. It makes it impossible to tell your secondary gender, but it doesn’t matter. Not to them.

The steady drip of the pain meds in your IV dulls everything- your body is sluggish, barely responding, but it also lowers the walls that kept them from truly knowing you.

“… ‘S too quiet,” you mumble, blinking slowly. Your voice is hoarse from disuse, raspy from the damage the muzzle had done to your jaw. It’s the first time any of them have heard you speak so calmly, in a controlled setting that isn't a battlefield, without the muzzle in place.

Johnny is the first to move, dragging a chair close so he can sit beside you. His movements are slow and careful- like approaching a wounded animal.

“Aye, hospitals tend to be,” he says gently. “Bit shite, aren’t they?”

Your lips press together in something that might be the ghost of a frown. “... Hate it.”

The words are so soft. They’re used to you tearing apart enemy soldiers with your bare hands, not murmuring complaints like a child unhappy with their surroundings.

“Yeah, I know,” Gaz murmurs from the other side of the bed. His fingers twitch like he wants to reach for you, but he doesn’t. Not yet. “You, uh… don’t like small spaces, do you?”

Your response is slow, weighted with exhaustion, and your eyes flicker between them yet remain unfocused. “Not the spaces.” A small pause. “The waiting.”

John exhales slowly through his nose, crossing his arms. You were never allowed to wait. You were a tool, a weapon unsheathed only for war. They never let you have quiet. The only time you weren’t fighting was when you were locked away, bound and muzzled like a rabid dog.

It’s sickening.

You shift against the restraints, huffing when they keep you pinned in place. “‘M not gonna run.”

“Yeah, we ken, sweetheart.” Johnny says before he can stop himself. The pet name slips out, but you don’t flinch. If anything, your muscles relax just a little.

Simon, who has been silent in the corner up until now, finally moves. His mask is still in place, but his scent- bitter with restrained frustration- is unmistakable. He steps closer, gloved hands reaching out to carefully unfasten the cuffs.

It’s a risk. The higher-ups demanded you remain restrained, even sedated if necessary. Hell, it was a fight for the doctors to convince them to take off the collar and muzzle.

But Simon doesn’t give a fuck.

You blink sluggishly up at him as he undoes the clasps, rubbing absent circles over the raw skin left behind. He doesn’t say anything, doesn’t acknowledge the way your fingers twitch under his touch.

You don’t lash out. You don’t fight. You just watch him with the biggest, saddest eyes he’s ever fucking seen.

Fuck.

“We shouldn’t be here,” you say, words slurring together slightly. “Don’t- don’t need to waste time. ‘M just a weapon.”

Something cracks in John’s chest.

“No, you’re not.” he says firmly.

You blink slowly at him. “… That’s what they said.”

“Well, they don’t know shit.” Gaz snaps, unable to help himself.

Your lips part slightly, as if you hadn’t expected that. As if no one had ever disagreed with that sentiment before.

Johnny leans forward, his voice softer now. “You’re not a weapon, bonnie.” His fingers twitch again before he finally gathers the courage to reach for you, brushing a careful hand over your hair. You don’t flinch. Don’t move away. Your eyes slip shut under the warmth of his touch.

It’s the first time you’ve been touched like this. Not in combat, not in restraint, but with care.

“Jus’ want pack." You mumble, so quiet they almost miss it. And fuck- if that doesn’t make their chests ache.

They knew it wasn’t your fault. They knew you were made into what you are, forced into something unnatural. They’ve seen you- seen the way you watch them, longing written in the lines of your body, in the fleeting glances and hesitant movements that scream of someone who just wants.

And now, stripped of the chains and the regulations that kept you leashed, they see you for what you truly are.

Not a weapon, nor a monster.

Just a broken little thing that was never given a choice.

Johnny keeps petting your hair, Gaz is murmuring quiet reassurances, and Simon hasn’t moved his hand from yours. John steps closer, resting a heavy, grounding palm on your ankle.

“We’ve got you,” John says, voice low and steady. “You’re pack now.”

Your breath hitches slightly. Your walls are too low, your body too exhausted to mask the emotions that flicker across your face.

And for the first time since they met you, you look safe.

(John just wishes the reality you'll face once you are recovered was far, far nicer to you).

Later, Ghost is the only one still awake with you. Johnny dozed off in the chair beside your bed, arms crossed over his chest, head tilted back in an uncomfortable angle that would have left him sore in the morning if it weren't for the scarf Simon bundled in the crook of his neck. Gaz and John left hours ago, forced back to their own quarters under the watchful eyes of command. They’ll be back in the morning.

For now, it’s just you and Simon, the quiet hum of the hospital machines, and the weight of something unspoken between you.

Until you speak up again.

“Y’know,” you murmur, eyes closed, voice rough from disuse. “I wasn’t always like this.”

Simon stills.

He doesn’t move, doesn’t even breathe for a second, like any sudden shift might scare you away from whatever you’re about to say. His hands tighten over his knees, fingers curling into the fabric of his fatigues.

He doesn’t ask you to elaborate. He doesn’t need to. He knows you’ll either continue or shut down completely. He prays it’s the former.

There’s a long silence before you exhale, long and slow, staring up at the ceiling like the words are carved into the sterile white panels above you.

“They took me in the middle of the night,” you say quietly. “Didn’t hear ‘em coming. Should’ve. Should’ve smelled ‘em.” Your lips press together, something dark flickering over your face. “But why would I? I was just... doing something. Near a car, and then- then I got knocked out before I even... knew they were there."

Simon doesn’t ask who. Not when it means interrupting you, not in this fine, delicate moment with its hands grasped around his throat. But he can guess and connect the dots, though; It’s always the same types. People who think they can own things. Who see others as commodities, as something to be bought and sold.

His fists clench.

“Woke up in a cage,” you continue, voice distant, like you’re narrating someone else’s story. “Couldn’t tell how many others were there. Too many. Some crying. Some too scared to move. Some already…” You swallow hard. “Already gone."

Ghost keeps his breathing steady, keeps his hands still even though his body screams to move, to do something. But this isn’t something he can fix. He can’t go back in time, can’t put a bullet in the heads of the men who did this to you. The only thing he can do is listen.

“I remember thinking,” you murmur, lashes heavy, eyes wet. “if I just waited, someone would come.” A bitter, breathless laugh slips past your lips. “Someone always comes. That’s what they all say, right? That someone always comes.”

Simon knows better than anyone that sometimes, no one does. Sometimes, you have to claw your own way out. Sometimes, it would still not save you.

He says nothing, just watches as you shift slightly against the pillows, your fingers twitching restlessly atop the blanket.

“They started selling people off,” you say. “One by one. Didn’t matter if they fought, if they screamed. Just lined them up, packed them into trucks, and that was it.”

A pause. Your eyes fluttered shut, a lone tear rolling down your face.

Then, quieter:

“No one came.”

The silence that follows is heavy. Suffocating. Simon still waits, letting you decide if you want to keep going. You don’t look at him, but your fingers twitch again, this time like you’re reaching for something absent.

“Didn’t matter what I wanted,” you whisper, now more to yourself than to him. “Didn’t matter who I was. I was just a thing to them. Something to be sold. Caged.”

He knows that feeling too well.

He knows what it means to be stripped of personhood, reduced to nothing but flesh to be used and discarded. He knows the rage, the helplessness, the slow descent into something feral and unrecognizable. But unlike you, he had John Price's need to adopting strays to reel him back in. But you-

“What happened?” he finally asks, low and rough as gravel.

Your lips part, and for a moment, he thinks you won’t answer.

“I killed them.”

Simple. Unapologetic. Matter-of-fact.

Ghost doesn’t flinch. Doesn’t react at all. He just waits.

“First one was easy,” you say, exhaustion coloring every letter. “He was the one who opened the cage. Didn’t think I’d fight. Thought I was too weak, too scared. I was scared.” You exhale. “But not enough to let them take me.”

Your fingers curl into the sheets, grip tightening.

“They were so scary.” Your voice is flat, emotionless, but Simon can see the tension in your shoulders, the way your pulse jumps against your throat and reflects on the heart monitor. “Strong. Trained. Bigger than me. Didn’t matter.” A small, humorless smile twitches at your lips. “Didn’t matter how much stronger they were. I fought like a fucking animal.”

Ghost can picture it.

You, starved, exhausted, barely more than skin and bone- tearing through men who thought they were untouchable. Clawing, biting, ripping, killing. Not for sport. Not for pleasure. Just to survive.

It was never a choice; the only other option was death.

“I didn’t stop,” you admit, softer now. “Even when they were all dead, even when there was no one left, I couldn’t stop.” A deep, shuddering breath. “I was stuck like that. Didn’t know how to turn it off. Still don’t.”

The silence stretches long between you, until Simon breaks it; “Not your fault,” he murmurs, waiting for you to look at him with those glassy, painfully big eyes. He shakes his head. “You didn’t have a choice.”

Your throat bobs, something unreadable passing over your face and for a long time, neither of you speak. “You’re the first person I’ve told.” You admit, voice barely above a whisper.

Simon’s fingers twitch. He wants to touch you. Wants to pull you close until he can rub his face and scent all over every crevice of your body. Not to restrain, not to command- just to comfort. But he doesn’t. He can't.

Instead, he just nods, voice soft when he says: “..Get some rest, love. We’ve got you now.”

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shotmrmiller · 1 year ago

Text

pornstar au

f!reader x simon 'ghost' riley

3.7k words (sorry)

tw: teacher-student relationship but it's just a scene for porn. explicit. horrifyingly so.

You burst into the classroom and stride purposefully towards your professor, who is seated in his leather chair, engrossed in his work. Impatiently tapping your foot, you waited for him to finish marking essays. However, after 5 minutes, your patience with this unbearable man ran out.

"Professor."

He hums, a deep sound coming from the back of his throat yet doesn't look up from what he's doing. A real piece of work, he is. How fucking aggravating.

"Professor Riley," your voice takes an irreverent tone.

The hand that had been writing non-stop comes to a sudden pause, and he finally directs his attention to you. Meeting your gaze, his dark eyes are hooded, his lips set in a firm line. His job is to literally deal with students, yet he dares to look annoyed.

"Are you gonna tell me what's wrong 'r am I gonna have to learn how to read minds?" he states.

Taking in a calming breath, you clench the crumpled essay in your hand. "Can you explain to me why you failed me on this? I did exactly as you asked!"

He must know precisely what you're talking about because he simply turns back to the papers on his desk.

"Tha's your problem. You did exactly as I asked, with no thought behind it. Just wrote the bare minimum, if you can even call it writin'. It's copy-paste," Professor Riley sets the pen down and leans back in the chair.

"I need ya to use tha' head o' yours when in this class. Otherwise, you'll fail the rest o' your classes too."

Fucking hell.

Professor Riley shifts in his seat, seemingly done with the conversation, and finishes, "If tha's all."

Shit. Your pause is too long, and the director calls it. Fuck.

"I'm really sorry, Ghost, I didn't mean-" Your words of apology dissolve into thin air as his strong hand finds its place on your hip— giving it a gentle, but firm squeeze.

"S'all righ', love. Mistakes happen. Matter fact," his eyes drift from you to behind you to beckon someone with two fingers. "C'mere, you."

It's the set assistant, and he's brought the script with him. Ghost swiftly stops him from handing it to you, instead pushing it onto the assistant's chest. "Won't be needin' tha', thanks. Tell the director tha' we'll be ad-libin'. Now sod off."

The assistant follows his command in haste, scurrying off to follow Ghost's instructions.

"Hey," he murmurs. Your eyes meet his, feeling the intensity of it quickens your heartbeat. "Say whatever you like, just remember to follow the storyline, alright?"

Follow the storyline. In porn. The irony isn't lost on you, but you bite the side of your gummy cheek to keep from laughing. "Yes, sir."

He drops his hand from where he held you slowly, seemingly almost reluctant to let go. "Ready?" Ghost's thin lips curl into a smirk when you nod at his question. "Good girl."

Your fingers tightly grip the flimsy material of your uniform skirt at his praise, and warmth pools in your lower belly.

His good girl.

A high-pitched voice cuts through your thoughts, signaling the restart of the shooting. You exhale a long breath, unclenching your hands in the process.

Action.

"If tha' all." Ghost reaches for his pen when you frantically grab onto his Oxford sleeve.

"Wait, Professor, please! I can't," you stammer, "I cannot fail this class! My parents would kill me if I studied abroad only to flunk. The tuition—"

His tone is authoritative as he abruptly cuts off your lengthy excuse. "Enough. Nothing can change the mark I've given you."

Your ears pricked up at his wording, and the corners of your lips pulled up into a roguish smile. "No?" Ghost stills before turning to face you, countenance blank. "Nothing at all, Professor?" With a coy tilt of your head, your wide, doe-like eyes meet his as your fingertips trace an alluring path from his forearm down to his knuckles.

"I really can't convince you in any way to change that grade for me?" You lean on the edge of his wooden desk— skirt so short it doesn't even graze the surface of it— and lightly curl your hand around his pointer finger. "It can be our little secret, Professor Riley," you purr.

Ghost lifts a single brow, and settles back into his seat, arms crossed over his barrel chest as his eyes travel from your feet to your exposed cleavage, fixating on the soft skin peeking out from your uniform top.

"Please?" his hushed voice reverberates inside your skull. "I promise to be a good girl."

That catches his attention, eyes flashing to yours, the fire behind them hot— you hope it burns you.

"'Sat, right? Tha' changes things now, doesn't it?" Ghost rolls his chair back, away from his desk, and spreads his thick legs apart in invitation, arms resting on the rests— the dictionary definition of casual. "Convince me then, pet."

"Yes, sir." Sauntering to stand in between his legs, you swallow thickly— the bulge in his groin was quite frankly, intimidating. You've had large, but this was in a league of its own.

"You gonna do it from up there? I know I'm bigger than average but not tha' big." A huff escapes from your lips. A whole comedian.

Knees pressed into the cold, tile floor, you expertly undo the button of his trousers and with his help, pulled them down along with his pants— just enough for his cock to spring free.

Bloody fucking hell.

His cock is monstrous. It rested against his belly, heavy and thick. The pink tip slightly peeking from under his foreskin. There was a groomed thatch of coarse hair at the base, and his balls were also heavy— one hanging lower than the other.

Ghost leans forward and cradles the underside of your jaw with one large hand, fingers gently caressing the delicate skin of your cheek, while the other pumps his rigid cock in anticipation. "Not scared, are ya?" His grin was wicked. "I promise it don't bite."

Grabbing his wrist, you maneuver his hand so that his thumb now rests on your soft lips. "Might not, but I do, Professor." And catch the tip of his finger between your blunt teeth, the subtle sting of it making him hiss.

"Perfect, pretty girl," he says, almost inaudible. His words of praise are for you alone— not for the scene, nor the camera. You peer up at him through your lashes, mewling softly at the expression on his face.

His brow was set, hooded eyes sultry, a rosy hue across his cheeks and nose, and lips parted as he panted quietly.

Delicious.

Ghost then pushes his thumb further into your slick mouth and hooks it behind your bottom teeth, delicately pulling you closer to him as he tips his head down— taking his thumb out with a pop. His warm breath fans across your face as he moves closer until his lips connect with yours. He slid his tongue into your mouth, tasting of frosty mint and his own unique taste.

Your hands come up, fingers digging into the meat of his thighs when he grasps your wrist and moves it to the focal point of his desire— his breath hitching when you give his cock a firm squeeze. Ghost bites your bottom lip before breaking away, a guttural noise escaping him when you begin to stroke him. "Tighten your hand around—" he breaks off, moaning against your kiss-swollen lips when you comply.

He threads his fingers through your hair that sits at the base of your skull, curling them into a fist and tugging back— craning your neck, hair pulled taut.

"So obedient. Jus' f'me, love?" you hum cheekily, a mischievous grin spreading across your face.

"Would you hold it against me if I said no?" he chuckles under his breath, the grip on your hair tightening marginally.

"I'd say tha' you're lyin'." He sucks in a breath when you press down lightly onto his slit with your thumb. "Cheeky."

He loosens the hold he has on you, feeling your scalp prickle with tender relief, and relaxes back into the chair. "All yours, sweetheart."

That light wasn't getting any greener, so with a grunt, you shifted your weight, ignoring your aching knees, and wrapped your lips around his cock.

Barely.

The salty bite of his arousal and musk spread on your tongue as you took him in deep, stilling once he hit the back of your throat.

"Fuck, look at me."

Slightly tipping your head back, you do as he says, your throat closing around him as he slips in even further.

"Fuckfuckfuck," a hiss, "such a hot little mouth, just swallowin' me righ' up." Your lungs burn with the lack of oxygen, forcing you to pull back to gasp for air. Ghost squeezes himself at the base and taps your cheek with his saliva-coated length.

"A dirty slag like you, jus' takin' me like a professional. Tha' what you are? A professional cock sucker, love?" he taunts. Your pussy clenches when he calls you a slag, pressing your thighs together in the hope of some friction; Something to alleviate the throbbing ache in between your legs.

Ghost with eyes as keen as ever, notices. Damn.

"Oh? Little harlot likes to get degraded, does she? Reminded of her place? How I'd love to teach you exactly where you belong, but tha' wouldn't be you convincin' me to change your bad grade, now would it?"

His cock taps on your swollen lips. "Another time, hm? Now open. Make me see reason."

Ghost's wish is your command. With enthusiasm, you take him in your mouth, slowly bobbing your head, place a hand right under your lips, and twist with every push and pull.

It's sloppy, spit covering your hand, dripping down to his balls. Your jaw aches, a burning pressure a little under your ear, but what gives you the strength to continue is the loud moans coming from Ghost. He holds nothing back, his hand engulfing the crown of your head while he gently pushes you down. A performer down to his very bones.

You were about to pause the recording, the pain in your mandible and knees almost becoming too much when he suddenly pulled you off of him.

"Wha—?" Ghost seizes you by the upper arms, forcibly bringing you to your feet, disregarding your pained whimper, and places you on the sturdy desk.

He's curling his fingers into the waistband of your frilly knickers, slipping them down your legs and pocketing them. There's a quiet popping sound when he bends his knees, going eye level with your bare cunt.

In a hushed tone, you say, "This isn't part of the scene." Ghost drags his eyes from your glistening slit to your face, gaze suffocating, smothering the very air in your lungs.

"Just a taste, love." He curls one hand under your thigh, lifting it to perch it on the edge of the desk, the other he throws over his strong shoulder. The only sound in the room is your soft moans as he expertly slides his warm tongue through your slick folds, sending waves of pleasure through your body.

By god does he eat pussy like it's his job. Peering down at him, you can't stop the sounds that spill from your mouth when his tongue visibly splits your pussy lips open, flicking at your clit, lapping up your arousal like it is honey. You take hold of his short hair, tugging at the strands as each swirl of his talented tongue pushes you closer to your peak.

His eyes cut to yours when he presses a thick finger into you, drinking in your desperate expression as you keen, begging for more, blabbering about it being so good, yet not enough, please god more.

Ghost curls his finger, only taking a second to find your sweet spot, and pushes— bursts of light flashing in your peripheral vision. You begin to rock your hips unconsciously, chasing your ecstasy, and Ghost simply flattens his tongue, letting you grind against it.

You teeter on the edge of bliss, a tightening in your stomach, right under where his finger is. Shaky exhales leave you, the leg that's on the desk visibly trembling from the tension that threatens to snap you in half.

He presses a kiss to your sodden pussy, and croons, "Gonna come f'me?" You jerkily nod.

"Yes fuck yes, I'm gonna come for you, just for you, Professor Riley pleaseee—" your blathering turns into a high-pitched squeal as he lightly sucks on your pearl, hips lifting off the desk as a blinding orgasm crashes into you, pleasure bursting through your very core, cunt pulsating with every wave of ecstasy around Ghost's finger.

He wastes no time in rising to his feet and slotting his mouth over yours, the taste of your slick strong, potent on his tongue. Ghost breaks away, his breath smelling of your desire. "Exquisite, like ambrosia. Addicting."

Ghost's hand cups your sensitive quim and whispers, "Think you can take me? Tha' orgasm took a lot outta ya."

Silly question. "I'm a big girl, Ghost. I can take it."

He licks the front of his teeth and glances down to where his hand rests. "Course you can, love. Turn around f'me."

Your movements are sluggish as you turn over onto your stomach, rising to the tip of your toes as you present yourself to him.

Ghost grabs the sides of your waist, and flips your skirt up, tucking the edge into the waistband of it. His hands palm your cheeks, thumbs digging into the meat of your ass to spread you open, completely exposed to him.

"Fuck me if tha' isn't the prettiest sight I've ever had the pleasure of seein'." He doesn't acknowledge your scoff as he spreads your hands out, placing them flat on the table— enveloping your hand with his own, intertwining his fingers with yours.

His leans over your semi-prone body, cock gently prodding at your entrance, gliding easily through your folds. "Ready?"

Arching your back, his tip slips inside, just barely. That's your answer.

You can hear the smarmy grin that spreads on his face, and wanted to snark back but you're rendered mute when he pushes in. Your eyes cross at the stretch of his cock, a feeling so sublime you know that no one will ever be able to duplicate. Your fingers tighten around his as you mewl when he bottoms out, hips flush against your arse.

Ghost sucks in a breath through his teeth when you shift your weight, and whatever you did has him sliding in deeper— turning his hiss into a guttural groan. "Fuck, you have no fuckin' idea how good you feel."

Probably not, but you have every idea how good he feels.

"You okay, love? Took me so well like you were made jus' f'me. So warm and soft, tight like a vice around my cock. Pretty pussy split wide open, stuffed full of me." He speaks unfettered filth to you, dripping over your ears like molasses, thick and syrupy. Your head feels heavy on your shoulders— dizzy, drunk on his scent, his cock that's got you tearing at the seams.

Then he begins to move, pulling out until an inch remains inside, and pushing in until he's nudging the plug of your womb, feeling a deep pinch under your navel.

This is what it's like to get fucked by Ghost. The one everyone covets after, hoping he drags down the very heavens with his bare hands and lays it at their feet. And here he is, fucking you. A newbie, a fresh face no one knows yet, a name that'll probably never grace the front page.

You doubt his motives are altruistic, but goddamn does it not matter; Not with the way he's carving a space inside of you that only he will ever fit in, or the way he's curling his free hand around your neck, thumb pressed right over your racing pulse.

He lowers himself until his strong chest is to your back, his teeth nipping the tip of your ear. "The moment I saw you gettin' fucked by Johnny, I knew I had t'have ya." Your walls clamp down on him involuntarily, wrenching a pained noise from him. "Fuckin' hell, I knew this pussy would be magical."

Ghost's lips skim over the shell of your ear before pressing a chaste kiss on it. "Lemme hear how good I make ya feel, pet. Don't hold back on me now." He grinds into your arse, going in so deep that it feels like he's trying to push past the entrance of your womb. "S'alrigh'. I'll jus' have t'pull 'em outta ya."

He releases you, placing both hands flat on the desk, on either side of your shoulders. "Take em for myself, make 'em mine." Straightening all the way, he digs his fingers into the soft flesh of your waist.

"What a view. Perfection." He rolls his hips, rhythm languid, loud squelching noises coming from where he fills you. "Drippin' cream all over my cock, pet. Can't tell me this isn't 'cause of me."

How the fuck can he still talk? How is he coherent? Why isn't his brain turned into mush like yours is?

"Fuckin' ya speechless, am I? Oh, sweetheart, but I'm barely gettin' started." Ghost slowly pulls out, and curls his hand around your shoulder, nudging you to turn over. "On your back, now."

You lazily flip over, hair sticking to your sweat-slick skin, and he hooks his arms underneath your legs and drags you to the edge until your arse hangs from it. "I wanna see that pretty face when you come." He wastes no time in sheathing himself back inside your swollen channel, walls fluttering at the invasion.

Ghost hooks one leg over his shoulder to lean forward, pinning you to the desk with his upper body, and maneuvers your other to wrap around his wide waist. "That cock drunk look on your face makes my balls tighten, what a fuckin' expression you've got, christ," he growls. "Knowin' I put it there makes it all the better."

He gives you a chaste kiss on the lips and gives you a smile that is all teeth. "Now let's make you sing."

Grunting, he straightens. plants his feet firmly, stance wide, and begins to fuck you. The videos of the famed Ghost you saw are nothing, nothing, in comparison to real life. His full weight is behind every spine-jarring thrust, it makes your teeth clack, it rattles your brain inside your skull. He does it so perfectly because at no point do you feel any discomfort, not even a twinge. It's all a pleasure that blazes, an all-encompassing heat that threatens to swallow you whole, burn you from the inside out.

His cock punches the breath out of your lungs, wails clawing out of your throat, and it's so good, so fucking good— god, maybe he is god, you don't know, everything is so blurry, hazy—

All senses focus on the sudden touch between your legs, an expert thumb drawing tight circles on your slippery clit and there's no way you're going to survive this—

"There she is, the girl I saw in the video. Tha's an expression I see in myfuckin' sleep. Give me what's mine, pet. Let me feel you, cream all over my cock."

He's relentless in his pursuit of your climax, a wave of pleasure so intense, it just might drag you out to sea, drowning you.

Ghost, the fucking god of sex, stops his ministrations to spit on your pussy. Spit. From his full height, a glob of warm saliva drops to your mons, and he smears it with his fingers over your pussy lips before rubbing your clit. His thrusts slow in pace, turning into a firm snap of his hips, making sure you feel every ridge of his cock, and in less than a minute, your spine arches off the desk.

Your mouth opens into a silent scream, lids snapping shut as you break underneath him, warmth gushing from where he's continuously sinking into you, a steady, slow rhythm that never ends.

"Came all over me, didn't ya? Bet you didn't know you could even do tha'."

You didn't.

"Jus' for tha', I'm gonna give you somethin' in return, yeah? A little reward for bein' so good," he praises.

Your tongue is heavy in your mouth, swollen and thick, and unconsciousness creeps at the very edges of your mind.

All you can do is lie there and take it, his sloppy thrusts, his harsh panting until he moans, "'m close, so fuckin' close," and with whatever remnants of strength you have left, you use to squeeze him tightly— unwilling to let go because his come is yours now, you've earned it.

"Come in me, Ghost," you whimper.

That does it. He slams his hands on either side of your head and borderline roars out his release, cock twitching inside of your used cunt, filling you with his spend.

Cut.

Ghost's breathing is labored, a harsh pant that fans over your overheated skin, damp with sweat.

His brows are furrowed, his eyes squeezed shut, gulping in air and shivering in the aftershock of his climax.

To be fucked by Ghost is to see the Garden of Eden behind your eyelids.

Now you understand. You understand why he has no equal. He is unparalleled.

Jesus Christ, you're fucked. So, so fucked.

He slowly opens his eyes and peers down at you with a wolfish grin.

"Perfection."

A week later, your video with Ghost is the most viewed on the entire website. Not one other video even scratches the bottom of where your video sits.

Ghost truly is the king.

Curiously enough, your friend is the one who lets you know that Mr. life-altering cock himself never kisses during work. Not once in any video of his has he ever kissed, apart from a short pressing of lips to skin.

Your heart traitorously flutters at the thought of it meaning something more. Catching feelings when you get fucked for a living is not the move. But there's no stopping it from misbehaving, especially when you receive another script, to make another video with Ghost.

Another. one.

Fuck. Fuck!!

You cannot wait.

@mishaglass

#call of duty #simon ghost riley #simon ghost riley smut #simon ghost riley x f reader #simon ghost riley x reader #cod mw2 #cod mwii #simon riley x reader #cod #cod smut #simon riley x you #simon riley #pornstar!au #simon ghost riley x you

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shouyuus · 7 months ago

Note

vi who sleeps in nothing but a pair of boxers/plaid pants (coz she runs super hot)...good luck trying to get any sleeping done next to allat ( . 人 . )

right. we are so back (i say, as if i've fucking gone anywhere except or being chronically online here writing vi fics) but pls put ur hands together for the original shirtless sleeper vi anon; our one tru savior who spawned all those topless vi hcs

18+, nip mention, college roommate!vi cinematic universe

vi, who runs super fucking hot all the time, sleeps in nothing but boxers or boy shorts, always kicks the blankets off the bed. before you got together, you'd sometimes find her passed out on the couch in the living room, snoring, her shirt rucked all the way up, her abs out on full display, on hand thrown over her head, the other dangling off the edge of the couch.

you've had to wake her up more than once, tug her over your shoulders, and half-drag, half-walk her to her own bedroom, dumping her on the bed, coaxing her into a semi-normal sleeping position before tucking her in.

but the next morning, when you'd wake up to check on her, you'd always find her somehow with all the sheets thrown off her (even in the dead of winter), and her shirt magically discarded somewhere on her floor, her torso bare, her nipple rings glinting in the morning light seeping in from the cracks between her eternally closed blinds.

sometimes, you'd linger over the sleeping shape of her, a stupid little indulgent smile on your lips as you sigh and walk back out of the room.

now that you're together though, it's even worse (and by that i mean better) bc she's a cuddler, you know she is. and she loves wrapping herself around you when she sleeps, digging her nose into the nape of your neck if she's big spoon, or just curling herself over your body, her leg thrown over both of yours, one of her arms looped around your middle --

except she's a human furnace, and in the summers, you've already got the ac blasting, but somehow its still not enough, and you always wake up in the middle of the night, skin sticky with a thin layer of sweat, trying to get some air. but when you try to roll away from her, she'd always whine and chase you, pull you back tighter into her arms, nuzzle against your cheek and mumble something about not leaving her.

"vi -- i'm not going anywhere, i'm just sweating --"

"mm... turn the ac up more..."

"okay, but you have to let me go first."

"mmm.... don't wanna..."

but the fact that her tits are rubbing up against your arm, her nipple rings cool along your skin -- you shiver, and she chuckles.

"can't be that hot if you're shivering like that."

you groan; she sounds way more awake now than a second ago. fuck.

"j-just -- lemme go turn down the ac --"

"don't -- i'm comfy." she locks you into her chest, her nose pressing into your cheek as she ghosts her lips over your skin. you can't help the tiny whimper that squeezes out of your throat.

you've got a quiz tomorrow (technically, later on today since it's like 4am in the morning) in fluid mechanics and you really can't be losing sleep like this but --

vi's already shifting, twisting you towards her, cupping your cheek to turn your face. your lips meet and you know it's a lost cause to try and resist.

"c'mon pretty girl -- spread those legs for me -- gotta work up a sweat first if you wanna cool down after, right?" she says as she tugs your legs open with one of her ankles hooked over yours, keeping your leg pinned beneath hers as her free hand slips beneath the waistband of your panties.

needless to say, you don't get much sleep for the rest of the night. you still manage to make it to your fluid mechanics class the next day, and the quiz goes... okay. but your ac bill is really really way too high that month.

#⛈ monsoon season #vi x reader #arcane x reader #vi smut #arcane smut #college roommate!vi #lmao this au is really just becoming like the fucking avengers universe on this blog huh #i love it tho no complaints here; but i do have other aus i am Thinking (TM) about and i wanna write about them soon #vi x you #arcane x you #vi arcane smut #vi x reader smut #arcane x reader smut #x reader #♨ steamy #arcane #lesbian #wlw fanfic #why is college gf vi such a menace and where can i get 14 of them thanks

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a-b-riddle · 1 year ago

Text

Part Four

Can't stop thinking about reader losing her cool.

"So we're closed, John." You said, trying to be cordial.

"Is that all you have to fucking say?" He practically growled before huffing. A humorless chuckle rumbling out of his chest. "I suppose not since you won't respond to any of us."

"Don't do that." You said taking a step back. Trying to create some distance between you and him. John would never physically hurt you. That much you knew.

"What?" He asked. His voice rising as he stepped closer to you. "Be angry that you pulled that shit and then left? Stopped talking to us. Changed your fucking locks. Last thing we even knew about you was that you got on a fucking plane and left. Even your friends wouldn't tell us anything besides that you were okay." "Which considering this came out of bloody nowhere, I find it highly unlikely that you are in any way 'okay'."

You took a deep breath. You wouldn't be intimidated. You wouldn't clam up. You wouldn't cry. You won't go back on your decision. You will be cordial and polite and not unleash everything you want to.

"I understand you might be upset, but it's for the best. It wasn't working out and I wanted to end on somewhat good terms. I would appreciate it if you lowered your voice and stopped speaking to me in that way." You could barely recognize your voice. It sounded so scripted. So robotic. But it was something you had been telling yourself. Excuses you had been telling yourself.

Because if you told yourself the truth. The picture you would paint would tell a different story. It wouldn't highlight the fact that John spoke to you like he was one of your men or that Johnny had the emotional capacity of a teaspoon. It wouldn't show what a flake Kyle was or that Simon was well and truly a mean-spirited person.

It would show how you weren't worth it. Four possible men. Four possibilities of happily ever after and none of them chose you. That no one ever did and no one ever would. You weren't worth it. You weren't loveable.

It wasn't right, but it was what the voices had been telling you late in the night. When you would crawl into your cold bed. The silence of the room not filled with John's steady breathing or the sound of Kyle's heartbeat as you laid you head on his chest. The absence of Johnny's occasional snoring or whatever Simon was watching playing in the background of your dreams.

In the void, all your dark thoughts came back at you.

"Upset?" He asked, his voice still louder than you would have liked. "An understatement considering the stunt you pulled."

"You think it was a stunt?"

"So Johnny thought with his dick and didn't plan things out. You should have told him instead of crying to Simon and then pulling this shit." "Christ, I knew you were still young, but I didn't take you for that immature."

"You know what?" "I'm done." "I am so fucking sick of making excuses for you all." "You want to act like I'm the immature one, John?" "You are 35-year-old man who cannot separate his work from his work like. You have continuously talked to and down to me like I am one of your men, only to turn around and always blame your shitty fucking attitude on work. I get that your job is stressful, but I did not sign up to be your verbal fucking punching bag."

"And this come and fucking go incident with Johnny. It has been a consistent issue with him coming over just to fuck. I've asked him for that last six months that 'hey, we've been seeing each other for a year and a half, I would love to meet your family' and suddenly the dates stop. He doesn't ask to see me until after 7 PM. He brings food occasionally, fucks me and leaves. Sometimes before I even wake up."

"And the only reason Kyle is the person I am the least pissed off with is because I haven't even seen him." You took a step closer, not noticing how the anger in John's eyes had softened. "I have not seen Kyle in weeks, to no fault of my own. I stopped reaching out to make dinner plans after the third time he canceled on a date night when I was either on my way or already at the restaurant."

"And Simon?" You scoffed. "Well, it doesn't really matter. After all, as he said I get mine. You all make me cum which is supposed to magically erase how shitty you've all been as partners. It's supposed to erase the nights I've cried myself to sleep debating on whether or not there was something wrong with me. How I'm not good enough to meet anyone else in your lives like some dirty fucking secret. How none of you can even bother to pencil me for a group dinner so I can tell you a publishing house picked up my book. How at some point you all stopped caring or maybe never did."

You took a breath. Blinking quickly to keep the tears at bay.

You wouldn't cry. You wouldn't cry.

"As Simon said it best, I should have known that spreading my legs wouldn’t end with one of you putting a ring on your finger.”

For once, John was silent. Unsure of what to say. An apology starting to form at the tip of his tongue before realizing 'sorry' wouldn't cut it. Not this time.

Had he really been that sharp with you? He knew that there were times he had gotten short, but he almost always apologized immediately after. If not at the very moment he took in your crest-fallen face, then definitely later. But he almost always told you he was sorry. Didn't he?

"So as I said," you swallowed down the lump in your throat. "I'm closed. We're done. Now get out." Your face held no sadness. Even though your eyes were nearly full to the brim with unshed tears, you weren't sad.

You were finally angry.

#captain john price #kyle gaz garrick #simon ghost riley #call of duty #john soap mactavish #angst #angst with a happy ending

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justakaku · 6 months ago

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Another load of Jealousy - Yunho x f!reader

Summary: Yunho isn't about to even entertain the idea of his girlfriend talking to another man. It doesn't matter how many loads of love, care, and cum it takes to make her remember that she is his and he is hers. Genre: smut (mdni!!!) Pairings: bf!Yunho x f!reader Tags/Warnings: SMUT MDNI, mean dom!yunho (kinda sweet after some time), sub!reader, fingering(?), penetration, unprotected sex, established relationship, jealousy, possessiveness, breeding kink, choking, bulge (lmk if something is missing, I have never done this) A/N: This is the 3rd smut I've ever written in my life... I haven't posted the first two since they were written a couple years ago and were bad, so I hope this is worth posting. The plot isn't anything great because this was mostly for trying to see what it's like to write smut and I didn't want to waste a good plot on this if this turned out bad LOLLL. So please, keep in mind that I've almost never written smut! Word count: 2 300 ------------------------------------------------------------------------------ If someone asked you if you loved Yunho, you’d answer ‘yes’ in a heartbeat. He was more than just a lover or a boyfriend; he was your worshipper, kissing the ground you walked on. And if someone asked you if you’d ever cheat on him, you’d give a firm ‘no’ and tell the person off. Although you wanted to make it clear to everyone you were Yunho’s girl because you loved him, it wasn’t the only reason to push people away. You’d be in big trouble if he started to consider the possibility of you holding affectionate feelings for anyone else than him.

“Baby, what are you doing? ~”

Despite Yunho’s needy tone and presence next to you on the couch, you couldn’t tear your gaze off of your phone.

“Wait a second, Yuyu,” you murmured.

He watched as your fingers tap-danced on the small screen, obviously writing a message to someone. Someone who was robbing him of your attention. Your eyes reflected the light coming from the phone screen but Yunho’s eyes shone with something else. He was getting frustrated.

“Please, I’m lonely,” he whined, his hand creeping up on your thigh, trying to go unnoticed yet wanting desperately for you to pay attention to him.

Still, you didn’t even glance at him. It was subtle but Yunho noticed how you tried to hide your phone screen, leaning away ever so slightly.

The longer your attention was on the mysterious person you were talking to, the angrier Yunho became.

You felt him squeeze your thigh, silently demanding you to finally look at him in the eyes. It was a final warning. Only when his long fingers dug onto your inner thigh, you turned to face him.

“Who are you talking to?”

Yunho’s icy voice shouldn’t have surprised you – this was nothing new, given his possessive nature. And like always, while it made you nervous, it also caused your pussy to clench around nothing. You couldn’t help but get horny when he looked like he’d devour you any second now.

“Just work stuff,” you murmured, taking a glance at his hand. No matter how many times his beautiful fingers had been inside you, reaching the deepest, sweetest spots, you just couldn’t get enough.

“At this hour? That’s bullshit.”

While Yunho’s eyes were cold, they were undeniably burning with both fury and lust. You knew the look way too well just like he knew your body.

“I’m friends with him so I feel comfortable texting him even in the evening. It’s just about a work project.”

“Him?” Yunho’s eyes narrowed.

You were too nervous to break eye contact with him, but you didn’t need to see to feel his hand hover over your core, so close but so far. Even though he was barely touching you, he was probably able to feel how your wetness seeped through your night shorts.

“Please, Yunho... Don’t tease me,” you let out a quiet whine, hoping it’d persuade Yunho into touching you.

Immediately, he pulled you roughly into a kiss. In a normal situation he would have kept you begging for him, but right now his desire and anger towards you were too much to handle for both of you. His lips claimed yours and showed no mercy or signs of going easy on you. You were enthusiastic to kiss him back, but his need to have you was even stronger.

The way he started nearly biting on your lips would have soon left bruises, if you hadn’t pulled away. The both of you were breathing heavily after the intense moment, but Yunho wasted no time in trying to rest.

“Who is that coworker? A friend you say?”

You felt your pussy get wetter by his demanding words and you tried your best to give him an answer – one that would satisfy him enough yet encourage him to fuck you senseless.

“We’re not close, but enough to be considered friends-! Yunho!..”

He interrupted you with his fingers suddenly under your clothing, circling your clit.

“What do you need friends for when I’m here? Don’t I give you all you need?”

You squirmed around at the movements of Yunho’s skillful hands. It was hard not to feel even slightly embarrassed; you didn’t want him to know how aroused his possessiveness made you.

“Y-You can’t do work projects for me... I need him.”

Your choice of words pushed the wrong buttons in Yunho, and he took his hand out of your panties. He didn’t care when you whined at the loss of contact, just pure jealousy burning in his eyes.

“You say you need him? Baby, I’m all you need,” his voice was low and dangerous, “There’s nothing and no-one else.”

It didn’t take long for him to have dragged you into the bedroom, his fingers wrapped around your wrist in a bruising grip. You tried to savor every moment despite knowing there were more to come after this.

The streetlights outside were the only source of light in your dim bedroom. It took a moment for your eyes to adjust to the darkness, but apparently Yunho saw well enough to push you onto the bed. Maybe he wouldn’t have cared anyways if he had pushed you accidentally on the floor. Whenever he got like this, satisfying his need to claim you was the top priority.

“Strip.”

You immediately started taking off your nightwear which you had just changed to after shower. Your hair was still damp and smelling like your shampoo. It was definite you’d have to take a shower again after this – preferably with Yunho.

“You’re too slow,” he scolded. The way he started pulling your shorts and panties off was surprisingly gentle; even though he was mad at you, he was still your mere worshipper and saw you as his goddess.

Finally, when you saw him properly, your breath caught in your throat. He wasn’t standing, just on his knees on the bed, but his height was still intimidating. You loved it though. You loved every moment of this, and your pussy throbbed with desire to have him fill you up to the brim.

His chest was heaving with anticipation, and although seeing it bare always excited you, your eyes were fixated on that cock of his.

“I-It’s bigger than I remembered...”

“You’re going to take it nonetheless. You don’t deserve this after how you’ve acted but I need this now,” Yunho stated, his tone leaving no room for discussion.

You felt like a prey, his next meal, as you watched him crawl closer on the bed and lay you down rather harshly. The intense eye contact just added to the arousal you felt leaking out of you. You needed him so bad, and your legs spread open automatically to give him way to your core that was aching for him.

“You need a damn reminder every week of who you belong to. I don’t know if I want you to stop teasing me like that or not,” Yunho whispered, his right hand finding its way to your neck, “At least I get to fuck you like this.”

He turned your gaze back up to him by gripping your neck, when you tried to look at his cock. You managed to see how its tip was covered in clear precum. It was as hard as it always was when you had moments like this, if not even harder. You wondered how it had ever managed to fit inside you with the impressive girth and length.

“Look at me in the eyes. I want you to look at me clearly so you’ll remember my face every time you talk to another man.”

You didn’t have time to process Yunho’s words. As he pushed his cock inside you, it was impossible to think about anything else than him. Although you were as wet as ever for him, it was still almost hard to take him in. No matter how many times he had made love to or fucked you, no matter how fast and rough or slow and romantic, he stretched you up nicely every time.

“My girl. My baby,” Yunho muttered more to himself than to you. His hips had started moving some time ago already, but only now you were coming down back to Earth.

His hand was on your neck like to use it to support himself, but the grip was still somewhat gentle. It tightened every time he thrusted in, and the lack of air just made you lose your mind in the pleasure even more.

Your walls were slippery and starting to adjust to his size, so he slid inside with ease. It didn’t mean there was no delicious friction left though.

“Who do you belong to? Him or me?” he growled into your ear. Although the pace of his hips had grown faster, he made sure to push deep inside you, drawing out every moan he could get from you.

Your attempt to answer was cut off quickly as Yunho’s hands started squeezing your throat. It would have been hard to breathe even if you weren’t breathless already from having him ram your insides.

“Answer me. A little choking shouldn’t shut you up like this.”

Again, you tried to tell Yunho that you were only his to love, fuck, and take care of. But he held your throat tighter again, clearly teasing you. It was impossible to win this game, and you loved it that way.

A mocking smirk spread on Yunho’s lips, “You don’t have to say it. I know you’re mine by the way I’m the only who ever gets to be balls deep inside you.”

He released your neck and pressed his hand lightly on your lower stomach. It was no secret that your boyfriend’s cock was big, but the way you could see a clear bulge, the way your lower abdomen moved up and down with Yunho’s thrusts, made you clench down on him.

“F-Fuck... You make it so hard to stay mad at you,” he groaned out.

You watched his eyebrows furrow as if he was holding back. Finally, you had been able to catch your breath, although it was still difficult due to his relentless thrusts.

“I love you. I’m yours, Yunho...”

Your pleasured admission not only softened his heart a bit but made him even more lustful. He knew you were his. If you tried to leave him, he’d find a way to make you stay – even with force if necessary. But hearing you say out loud once again that you were his satisfied him.

“I know. I know, my pretty girl, and I love you too,” his eyes met yours in a gentle way even.

A loud moan slipped past your lips as Yunho’s fingers found your clit, finally continuing what he had started on the couch in the living room. Circling, pressing, and pinching on it – he did it all. Your sensitive skin tingled and almost felt like on fire.

“W-Will you fill me up?” you grasped at the sheets under you, making them all rumpled and look unkempt. They were dirty anyways due to the sweating.

Yunho moved your hands on his shoulders. There was nothing more that he wanted than to see your nail scrapes on his skin, a mark of who he belonged to.

“I’ll fill you up, baby. My cum will be leaking out,” he looked at you before turning his eyes to his cock, slightly amused, “I’ll just fuck a new load tomorrow then. You’ll have my babies in no time.”

His talk about breeding you brought you closer to your release, and he definitely noticed it by the way your pussy squeezed his thick cock.

“Look at your pussy, how it’s clenching down on me. It likes to be bred, huh?”

“Yunho, I-I'm close... so close,” you whimpered, gripping his shoulders like they were your savior. But you knew nothing could save you from the climax you were reaching quickly.

Yunho smiled down at you a bit cockily, “Have I made clear who you belong to?”

“Yes!” you whined, thighs trembling.

“And who do you belong to, baby?”

If you weren’t in such a state of mind-blowing pleasure, you could have teased him on purpose and said the name of your coworker. However, now that you were so close to coming, you couldn’t ruin this.

“You! You, Yunho!..”

A genuine, sweet smile tugged the corners of his lips slightly upwards. By looking at his furrowed eyebrows, it was clear he was holding back as well, near to orgasm but fighting back for your sake.

And Yunho knew your body so well, that he recognized your sounds of enjoyment and body language, so that just when you reached the peak, he closed the distance between your lips. Your cries of pure pleasure were muffled by his mouth.

His body shook and it didn’t take long for him to go over the edge, to let out a few stifled groans. Hot cum spurted out inside you, filling you just like Yunho had promised.

“So, you’re going to block that man’s number, right?” Yunho mumbled, his head lying down on your chest. He could hear your heart beating rapidly after the intense session but eventually calming down to steady, slow beats.

You chuckled, caressing his hair slightly damp from the sweat, “I can’t block my coworker’s number.”

A surprised and disappointed whine fell past your lips as Yunho got up and pulled his now softened cock out of you. He looked down at your pussy, watching with glee how his fresh cum leaked out. There was a lot of it still inside you, but it wasn’t enough for him. Nothing was ever enough for him when it came to you.

“I guess you can take another load then.”

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ellewritesx · 13 days ago

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explore me slowly

(part two of the teach me slowly series)

Summary: Firsts aren't always easy. Lucky for you, Harry's got patience— and a plan.

Warnings: early stages of a relationship, age gap, lots of talk about virginity and sex, fingering, brief oral (f!receiving), sexual guilt (it's so common and it's time we start talking about it)

Based on: this ask!

A/N: hi lovelies! sorry this update took foreverrr. i've had a rough week, but i'm back now and working hard on creating new content for you guys :) i'm so happy to see the love i received on part one of this, thank you all sososo much. series tag list is open x

Word Count: 4,319

...

You're nervous.

Not the jittery, wide-eyed kind of nervous, but the quiet kind. It simmers just beneath the surface, where your stomach feels light and fluttery, and your thoughts are buzzing too fast to catch.

You're sitting with Harry on his couch, tucked beneath the blanket that always smells like him, like fresh, warm laundry and cedarwood and something a little sweeter underneath. The movie he put on a while ago has turned to static now, background noise, barely audible under the sound of your pulse in your ears.

Your mind keeps drifting back to last Friday night, to that first conversation you and Harry had about your virginity, turning it over in your head, trying to decide what you want.

But now you know.

You pull back a little, tilting your head to look at him properly, and your voice is smaller than you mean it to be when you speak up. ''I think… I want to try something tonight.''

That gets his attention.

His arm, which had been draped along the back of the couch and absentmindedly stroking your shoulder, stills. He turns to face you, scanning your features with those sharp, observant eyes like he's trying to understand everything you're not saying. ''Try something?'' he echoes, but it's not teasing. It's curious. Encouraging.

You nod. Your fingers curl in the hem of your shorts, anchoring yourself. ''I don't know what exactly. I just… I trust you. And I want to explore. Whatever you think is best to start with.''

He stays quiet for a beat, his thumb brushing the side of your thigh under the blanket. ''Are you sure?''

You nod again, firmer this time. ''Yeah. I've been thinking about it a lot. I'm not trying to rush into anything I'm not ready for. And I'm not ready for... everything, but we could do something else, right?''

Harry's expression softens into something tender. You can see it shift, the subtle change in how he's holding himself. The way he sinks a bit deeper into the cushions, like the weight of your blind trust, and his responsibility for it, slowly settles onto his shoulders.

''Okay,'' he says. ''We'll go slow. If you're okay with it, I'd like to understand where you're at. What you're comfortable with. What you like, what you don't like, y'know?''

You inhale deeply, your shoulders relaxing at the sound of his calm voice. You hadn't realized how much tension you'd been holding until now. You hum in response, heart thudding steady in your chest.

Harry's eyes flick to your lips, your eyes, your hands in your lap. He shifts slightly so he's facing you more directly. ''So… when you say you want to try something, what does that look like for you tonight? Is there something you've been curious about?''

You chew your lip. ''I don't know, really. That's the thing. I've never done any of this before, so I don't really know where I'm supposed to start, what I'm supposed to explore. That's why I'm asking you to... I don't know, lead. To tell me what to do.''

''I can do that. Is there anything that's off-limits tonight?'' he asks carefully, his hand moving to rest lightly on your bare knee.

You think about it for a moment, then shake your head. ''I don't want to… you know. Go all the way. Not yet.''

''Okay,'' he smiles, squeezing your knee softly in reassurance. ''What about me touching you? With my hands, or my mouth?''

Your breath catches, heat rushing to your cheeks. The words make you squirm, but you manage to give him a curt nod, forcing a tight-lipped, nervous smile. ''Yeah. I think I'd like to try that.''

He smiles gently, fingers brushing your neck, waiting for any sign of hesitation. When all he sees is curiosity etched onto your features, he dips his head under yours, pressing soft kisses to your neck.

Your heartbeat pounds under your skin as Harry caresses your arms, rubbing them up and down soothingly. You gasp when he sucks lightly on your skin, taking his time getting you in the mood.

''Do you want me to show you what feels good? Or do you want to tell me what to do?'' he murmurs, his lips brushing your collarbone.

You bite your lip, throat dry. ''I… I want you to show me.''

He stands up, then holds out a hand.

''Come here, love.''

You take it, and he tugs you to your feet, pulling a huffed laugh from you. He puts his hands on your waist and begins slowly walking you backward, firm and deliberate, toward his bedroom, not breaking eye contact once. Something about it, the effortless confidence he exudes, the air of nonchalance, makes your breath hitch.

And when your back hits his bedroom door, he pauses. He leans in, foreheads touching, his breath mingling with yours.

''You're sure?'' he whispers.

You nod. ''I'm sure.''

And then he kisses you, deep and passionate, his hand fumbling for the door handle behind you. He chuckles against your lips when he clumsily opens the door, and you both stumble in with a laugh.

Harry's bedroom is dim, the lamp on his bedside table painting the room in a soft yellow. You turn around, taking in his space. It feels intimate. It's simple, minimalistic, but so Harry.

There are sticky notes attached to the small notice board above his desk, filled with hasty scribbles like yoga pushed to 7 this Thursday!!! and pick up mum from the airport!!! and a nonsensical jumble of random words and phrases. Lyrics for new songs, you think.

The door clicks shut behind him and you feel his presence behind you, steady, unfaltering, unlike the beat of your heart. For a second, neither of you speak. You're not sure when the room got so quiet, but your pulse thrums in your ears, the sound of your shallow breathing seeming to mute everything else.

Then his arms slide around your waist from behind, pulling you back into the solid heat of his chest. He dips his head to your height and presses a kiss just behind your ear, then another one to the slope of your neck, and you melt into him by instinct.

His fingers find the hem of your hoodie, his hoodie, technically, the navy one you borrowed weeks ago and never gave back. It still smells faintly like his cologne, the way his clothes always do when he forgets them on your couch. He gathers the fabric, lifting it inch by inch until it bunches beneath your waist, right above your grey shorts.

It had felt a little silly when you put it on after your shower this morning, but his mouth twitches into a smile when he recognizes it, his fingers toying with the material. ''This mine?''

''Yeah. You were outgrowing it anyway,'' you tease, turning around in his hold and playfully squeezing his biceps. He's been frequenting the gym increasingly more often, and it shows. You assume it's his way of blowing off steam now that he's not performing.

''Hm. It does look better on you,'' he grins, pressing a kiss to your temple as his hands trail lower. He gently tugs at the hem, waiting for your approval. ''Can I take this off?''

You hesitate, just a second, but it's enough to make him pause, watching you closely. It's not that you don't trust him, or don't want to, but you can already feel the air on your thighs, your stomach, the dip of your lower back. And the idea of being completely bare under his gaze, no barriers, no fabric, no layers to hide behind, suddenly feels a little too exposed. Too vulnerable.

Your hands catch his quickly, wrapping around his palms, though you know that Harry wouldn't move an inch without your consent.

''I… would it be okay if I kept it on? Just for now?'' you ask, cheeks burning. ''I don't think I'm comfortable being fully naked yet.''

There's not even a beat of silence before he nods, brushing your hair back behind your ear. ''Of course. You don't have to do anything you don't want to. You look beautiful like this, too.''

Your hesitation doesn't frustrate or deter him. Instead, he reaches for the hem of his own shirt, and in one smooth motion, he pulls it up over his head and carelessly tosses it aside.

Your breath catches. He's so close that you can see the faint freckles adorning his collarbone, the gold cross nestled between his pecs, the trail of ink curling down his strong arms.

You reach out before you can second-guess it, fingers brushing across the small tattoos above his heart, the ones you've only ever seen half-hidden beneath his clothes. Your hand grazes the tattoos that trail down the skin of his left shoulder, his bicep, his arm, like a river that meanders delicately through a forest.

He watches you, quiet and confident, as your palm flattens over his chest. His skin is warm under your fingers, smooth and solid and real. You trace one of the swallows across his collarbone, then dip lower, brushing your knuckles down the line of his sternum. The ridges of his abs flex slightly beneath your touch.

''You're so…'' you trail off, suddenly embarrassed by your own awe.

Harry gives you a lopsided smile, like he knows what you mean without needing to hear it. ''Thank you, baby. You can touch me as much as you want,'' he says, voice thick with something more tender than lust. ''Take your time, darlin'. I'm not going anywhere.''

You lean up to kiss him, and when your hands settle around his hips, he presses forward just enough to guide you backward toward the bed. Your knees hit the edge of the mattress and you land with a soft thud. Harry follows, kneeling between your legs, one hand curling around the back of your thigh to pull it around his waist.

You shiver when his knuckles graze the edge of your shorts, and he catches the reaction immediately.

''Still okay?'' he murmurs against your lips.

''Yeah,'' you whisper. ''I just… don't know what I'm doing.''

''You don't have to,'' he insists. The sheets are cool against your skin, grounding, while Harry hovers over you, broad and warm and impossibly gentle and patient. ''That's what tonight's for, yeah? You tell me what feels good. What doesn't. I'll listen.''

His fingers stroke over the outside of your shorts first, featherlight at first, then with a little more pressure. Just enough to let the heat pool low in your belly, your thighs pressing together instinctively at the unfamiliarity of it all. You let out a soft, shaky breath.

He looks up at you, lips curved, eyes kind. ''That feel alright?''

''Mhm.''

''Use your words for me, baby,'' he teases lightly, but there's no pressure. Just playfulness.

You swallow. ''It feels… really good.''

That earns you a kiss, warm and sweet, and this time his hand drifts over your stomach, fingers brushing under the hem of your hoodie. He doesn't try to lift it again, just slips his palm beneath the fabric, splaying it over your skin, stroking your bare side.

His hands don't rush. They just keep tracing the shape of you, mapping the curves and valleys like they're sacred terrain. Then his fingers slide down past your navel, knuckles grazing your skin, brushing the waistband of your shorts.

You draw in a shaky breath.

''Still good?'' he asks, watching you.

You nod. ''Yes. Please.''

He smiles reassuringly and continues his trail down your shorts. His fingers move over the cotton, just the faintest pressure, barely there. But even that is enough to send a jolt through you, hips twitching in surprise when he brushes against your clothed clit.

You're more sensitive than you expected. Everything feels heightened: his breath on your cheek, the press of his fingers through the fabric, the weight of his gaze on your face.

''Feels good?''

You nod, unable to speak.

He strokes over the same spot a little more firmly this time, slow and rhythmic. ''You're already wet,'' he groans, almost like he's in awe. ''I haven't even done anything. Fuck, that's so hot.''

You flush, turning your face into his shoulder, and he chuckles softly. ''You don't have to be shy with me,'' he whispers. ''Nobody's around. It's just you and me, yeah? I've got you.''

You nod bashfully. His hand slips under the waistband of your shorts and slides your panties aside with a gentle tug. For the first time ever, someone else touches you where you've barely explored yourself, the pad of his finger dragging softly through your folds.

You tense instantly, just from the unfamiliarity of it, but he doesn't push. Just keeps it slow, gentle, careful, learning the way your body responds, noting every soft whine and every stutter of breath. It's a different kind of touch than your own. More assured. Confident, but not cocky. He's paying attention to every shift in your body, like your pleasure is a language and he wants to be fluent.

He finds your clit and circles it with the pad of his finger, light and teasing, until your hips lift from the bed with a choked whimper, and his pace quickens. You didn't know it could feel like this. Every nerve is lit up, like your skin is catching fire in the best way.

''Oh,'' you breathe out, your body sinking into the mattress as you sigh contently, the tension in your muscles melting away.

Harry smiles. ''Yeah?''

You nod, eyes fluttering shut, head thrown back against the pillow.

Harry glances up again, pride flickering in his expression. ''That good?''

''So good,'' you whisper.

He grins, but it's soft, not smug. He eases you further back onto the bed, and you go willingly, your legs falling open around his waist as he crawls down your body, pulling your shorts down with him as he goes, just enough to expose your panties to him.

Then he leans in and presses an open-mouthed kiss to your inner thigh. And another, closer to the edge of your underwear. He hums low in his throat, like the scent of your arousal has undone something in him. His hand is still between your thighs, and he pushes a finger inside, just one for now, testing, studying your reaction, while his thumb keeps stroking your clit to keep you relaxed.

Your breath catches at the stretch. It's not painful, just… new. Unfamiliar. Full.

But it feels good. Better than anything you've ever felt on your own.

Harry leans his cheek against your inner thigh, watching your pussy accomodate to the stretch of his finger with awe etched onto his face. His eyes flick up to your face, searching your expression for any discomfort or pain. ''Too much?''

You shake your head. ''No. Feels… good.''

Then he kisses your thigh again, hooking one of your legs over his shoulder. A shiver runs down your spine when you feel his hot breath against your cunt, and you realize what he's planning.

But when you feel the first swipe of his tongue, it's too much.

You gasp and your hand flies to his hair, not tugging hard, just enough to pull him back. ''Wait. Sorry. That's... a little overwhelming.''

He pulls back instantly, looking up at you with such gentle understanding it nearly makes your heart burst out of your chest. ''Don't apologize. That's totally okay.''

''I don't know why,'' you say, cheeks warm. ''It's just… a lot.''

''It's okay, love. This is all brand new to you,'' he soothes, pressing a kiss to your thigh. ''We can save that for another night, yeah? We have all the time in the world to go slow, baby.''

There's no disappointment in his voice. No pressure. He's just... here. With you. For you. The realization tugs at your heartstrings.

You nod, and he climbs back up your body, propping himself up on one arm, letting you catch your breath as he hovers over you. The warmth between your legs lingers, building slowly as his hand starts to move again, hushed praises falling from his lips.

His touch is focused, fingers slow, right where you need them. This time, you relax into it. Let the tension coil in your belly, growing tighter and tighter with every slow circle of his fingers, every kiss he presses against your shoulder, your jaw, your temple.

Your breathing stutters. Your thighs clench. Your fingers dig into his forearm, making him groan. He curls his finger slightly and your back arches with a sudden, gasping moan.

''Harry, fuck—''

''There she is,'' he breathes. ''There you go, darlin'. That's it. Let go for me. You don't have to think. Just feel. I've got you.''

He keeps the rhythm steady, his thumb circling your clit, his finger curling inside of you. Your thighs tense, your hips stutter, and then your whole body locks up with a choked sound as the pleasure spills over all at once. Your orgasm crashes into you like a wave, sharp and sweet and overwhelming in the best way. Your fingers grip the bedsheets, and you can barely hear yourself moaning his name like a prayer, your breath stuttering out in broken gasps.

Harry's voice is low and tender as he eases you through it. ''That's it, baby. So good. So fucking good. You did so well for me.''

You're shaking while he helps you ride it out, only pulling his hand out of your shorts when you whine quietly in overstimulation, your chest heaving. His attention shifts to you immediately, cradling your face in his palm, brushing sweaty hair from your temple.

''You okay?''

''Yeah. Just…'' you swallow, blinking up at him, dazed. ''I think… I think that was my first real orgasm, Harry.''

He stills, his mouth curving into a slow smile. ''Yeah?'' he says, and he sounds so proud you could cry. ''That was your first?''

You nod again, cheeks hot. ''I thought I'd already had one, but it's never felt like that before. Not even close.''

He leans in to kiss you, cradling your cheek like you're the most precious thing he's ever laid his hands on. ''Fuck, baby. Thank you for letting me be the first. That means more than you know.''

He rolls over and plops down on the mattress with a content sigh, one arm falling over his eyes. You rest your head on his heaving chest, heart still pounding, and his other arm instantly wraps around you, his fingers tracing lazy circles on your back.

Your body feels weightless, boneless, like you've melted into the sheets completely. The air around you is warm and still, the silence only broken by Harry's pants beside you.

The hem of his hoodie is still bunched around your thighs, and you're vaguely aware of the dampness between your legs and the faint throb in your muscles. It doesn't hurt, it just lingers, like your body is still catching up to the memory of being touched.

Harry presses a kiss to your temple, then leans up on one elbow, brushing your hair back gently.

''Stay here,'' he whispers. ''Gonna get you some water and a towel to clean you up, alright? I'll be right back, promise.''

You nod, dazed. His voice is so soft. So safe.

A few minutes pass while he moves around the room. You hear the faucet turn on in the bathroom, the clink of a glass against porcelain, the shuffle of his feet across the floorboards.

Everything is ordinary. Normal.

But the longer you lie there, the tighter your chest becomes.

It starts slow. A little whisper in the back of your mind. You did that. You let someone do that to you. You gave it away. It's over.

Your thighs are still damp. You feel the stickiness on your skin and suddenly you can't breathe quite right. Your heartbeat starts to pick up. A sour kind of shame crawls up your throat, thick and hot, choking you before you can swallow it down.

You shift in the bed, curling your legs up to your chest. Your fingers tighten in the sheets, knuckles turning white from your grip.

It was good. He was kind. You wanted it. So why do you feel like this?

The door creaks open again. Harry enters quietly, carrying a glass of water and a warm washcloth. His eyes go to you first, always to you, and the second he sees how you're curled in on yourself, his face tightens, his brows furrowing.

''Hey,'' he calls out gently, setting everything on the nightstand. ''What's wrong?''

You try to speak but your throat closes up. The tears come suddenly, a choked sob leaving your chest. One moment your eyes are just stinging, the next they're spilling over, silent and hot, streaming down your cheeks faster than you can wipe them away.

Harry's at your side in an instant.

''Baby…'' He kneels beside the bed, cupping your face in both hands, eyes scanning yours like he's desperate to read your mind. ''Talk to me. Did I hurt you? Was I too rough?''

You shake your head, but your voice is caught in your chest.

''Do you… do you regret it?'' he asks, and you hear the break in his voice. ''Did I do something wrong?''

''No,'' you whisper, your voice hoarse and cracked. ''No, it's not you. You didn't, Harry. You didn't do anything wrong. You were perfect.''

His brows pinch together, eyes searching, lips parting like he wants to understand so badly, but can't. ''Then what is it? What's hurting you, love? Please talk to me. Tell me so I can fix it.''

You swallow hard, wiping your tears in silent frustration, your voice small and scared. ''I just feel… gross. I feel dirty. I don't know why. I wanted it, and I don't... I don't regret it, but now that it happened I...'' you hiccup a sob. ''I feel so fucking ashamed.''

The words are like acid in your mouth. Saying them aloud makes them more real.

Harry's eyes soften instantly, his whole body folding toward you. He takes a seat next to you on the bed, pulls you into his arms gently. ''Oh, baby,'' he breathes out, cradling you against his chest. ''I'm so sorry, love. I should've realized how you were feeling sooner.''

You press your face into his shoulder, fists curling in the fabric of his sweatpants. ''It's not your fault,'' you whisper. ''I promise. I just… it's me. Something's wrong with me.''

''Nothing's wrong with you,'' he says, kind, but firm. Definitive. ''Nothing. This is so much more common than you think, baby. Especially when it's your first time.''

''Really?'' you ask, timid.

He pulls back slightly to look at you. ''Yeah, love. You can want it, and it can feel amazing, and you can still feel overwhelmed after. It's okay to feel both things at the same time,'' he gives you a pained smile, his thumb brushing a tear from your cheek. ''It's not because you did something bad. Not at all, baby. It's because we're taught to feel shame around sex. Especially women.''

You sniffle, the words loosening something in your chest.

''I just feel like I lost something,'' you say quietly, shame sinking into your bones. ''Something I can't get back. And I know I chose it. I don't regret it, I really don't, but it feels... sinful, almost. Like I should've saved it longer, or done it differently, or just… I don't know.''

Harry kisses your forehead, his lips lingering there. ''You didn't lose anything, darlin'. You shared something. With someone who loves being trusted by you. You didn't lose anything.''

Your eyes blur again at the softness in his voice. ''But it feels so wrong, and I know that doesn't make sense. You were gentle, and I wanted it, I loved it, and I still feel like I did something wrong.''

Harry wraps his arms tighter around you, holding you close like he can protect you from your own insecurities. ''It makes perfect sense,'' he says. ''You're not wrong for feeling this way. You're human. You're taught that virginity is something that gets taken from you. It's not. It's an experience you share, but nothing fundamental changes.''

You bury your face in his neck, your voice muffled. ''But why do I feel so small?''

''Because it was a big step,'' he says simply. ''Because it mattered. You've built this up in your head for so long, and maybe part of you started to think doing this would change you forever. But you're still the same person you were yesterday, baby.''

Your breath shudders and you collapse into him, wrapping your arms tightly around his waist, and he just holds you, rocking you softly and murmuring sweet reassurances and praises into your hair.

Eventually, the tears ease. The ache in your chest dulls. You feel whole again, grounded. And you stay there, in his arms, breathing in the safety of his skin, until the world feels quiet again.

Harry kisses your hair and whispers, ''Wanna try that water now?''

You sniffle and nod, still tucked against him. ''Yeah. Thank you.''

He reaches for the glass and hands it to you, his fingers brushing yours. You bring it up to your lips and gratefully take a few sips before handing it back to him with a shaky smile.

''You okay to stay here with me tonight?'' he asks as he puts the glass back on his nightstand.

You nod again, taking in a shuddering breath. ''Please.''

He helps you under the covers and slips in beside you. You curl into his chest and he strokes your hair like it's second nature. Like holding you is something he was made to do.

''I think I'm in love with you.''

...

thank you so much for reading! i appreciate any and all support so remember to like, comment and reblog. requests are open! 💕

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@2601-london @mads3502 @angeldavis777 @run-for-the-hills @postsexfistbump @hobireasns @madilee7802 @spinninc @practistyles @qrapejuices @fangirl509east @sstylezzz @hontpwk @lichi-dunkera @prettygurl-2009 @violinheartxx @gotthecinema @ghstyles @triski73

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@maddiesalvatore1839 @mleestiles @imaginexxharry

...

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fallenbratfiction · 4 months ago

Text

does your mother know - pedro pascal x f!reader

A/N: You knew it was coming, i mean come on!! Also added some tweaks as I've been non stop watching The White Lotus so it's sort of an AU. Both you and Pedro happen to be at the white lotus. AAAAAAAA!!!! Honestly this went on for longer than I had planned but I loved how it ended!

Post that inspired this fic

warnings: girthy age gap (reader is early 20's and he is around 50),, eating out (f! Receiving) protected sex (wrap it before you tap it!) use of word daddy and baby, alcohol consumption, if I missed any warnings let me know!

do not copy, translate or claim any of my work as your own.

🔞minors dni, I don’t take responsibility for what you choose to consume.

I hope you enjoy this just as much as I enjoyed writing for y’all!

🌊🌊🌊🌊🌊🌊🌊🌊🌊🌊🌊🌊🌊🌊🌊🌊

The sun was just beginning its slow descent over the ocean, painting the sky in streaks of pink and gold. A warm breeze carried the scent of salt and sunscreen through the resort’s private beach, where guests lounged with cocktails in hand, the hum of music and laughter blending into the rolling waves.

The White Lotus was everything it promised—luxurious, indulgent, and filled with people who had far too much money and not enough problems. You were here with your mother who had little interest in where you went or who you were with, too preoccupied with spa treatments, resort gossip, and work. It made slipping away easy, effortless even.

And it made your latest interest all the more enticing.

Pedro.

He was here alone, lingering around the resort like he wasn’t sure if he was supposed to be enjoying it or just enduring it. He didn’t seem to belong, yet somehow, he did—like an outsider who had mastered the art of observing the privileged up close. And he intrigued you.

You spotted him now, stretched out under a white beach umbrella, aviator sunglasses perched on his nose, an unread book resting on his stomach. The drink beside him was sweating more than he was, untouched, while he lazily observed the crowd.

Sliding your sunglasses down the bridge of your nose, you approached with an effortless sway, your bare feet sinking into the warm sand. "This seat taken?" Your voice was smooth, just a hint of playfulness lacing the edges.

Pedro tilted his head, barely moving, but you felt his gaze shift to you. He smirked, that slow, lazy kind of smirk that made something flutter in your stomach. "Looks like it is now."

You eased onto the lounger beside him, close but not too close, stretching out your sun-kissed legs. After a moment, you reached into your beach bag, pulling out a bottle of sunscreen. With an exaggerated sigh, you turned to him, holding it out. "Would you mind? It's such a hassle doing my back alone."

Pedro raised an eyebrow, clearly amused. "Is that so?"

You tilted your head, a playful smirk tugging at your lips. "Oh, don’t act so surprised. I’m sure you've done this before." You twisted slightly, exposing the smooth expanse of your back. "Besides, it’s a shame to let a burn ruin such a nice vacation."

Pedro exhaled, shaking his head, but he took the bottle nonetheless. "You're trouble, aren’t you?"

"Only if you want me to be."

He chuckled, squeezing the lotion into his palm before pressing his hands to your shoulders. His touch was firm, warm, and just slow enough to make you shiver. You hummed in approval, tilting your head slightly. "You’re good at this. Almost suspiciously so."

"Don’t overthink it," he muttered, working the sunscreen over your soft skin. "Or do you flirt with every man who helps you avoid sunburn?"

You twisted your head to glance at him over your shoulder, eyes glinting. "Only the ones worth my time." You let a few beats of silence linger, pretending to focus on the waves, but you knew he was watching.

"You’ve been here all week," you said eventually, glancing at him over the rim of your sunglasses. "I would’ve thought someone like you would have been snatched up by now."

He chuckled, deep and warm, finally sitting up. "Someone like me? And what’s that supposed to mean?"

"Mature. Brooding. Handsome." You listed the words off as if they were obvious, twirling a finger idly through your hair. "But I suppose you already know that."

Pedro huffed a laugh, shaking his head. "You think flattery works on an old man like me?"

"Oh, I think it works very well." You tilted your head, eyes glinting. "I mean, you haven’t told me to leave yet."

He exhaled through his nose, amused, lifting his drink to take a slow sip. "How old are you?"

You pursed your lips, considering. "Old enough to know what I want."

His brows lifted just slightly, but the corner of his mouth twitched upward. "And what is it that you want?"

You reached for his sunglasses, slipping them off his face without permission. His eyes met yours—warm, dark, assessing. You hummed in approval.

"Wouldn’t you like to find out?" You leaned in slightly, watching the way his throat bobbed as he swallowed. "Or are you afraid you might like it too much?"

Pedro let out a long breath, shaking his head as he leaned back again, arms stretching over the back of his chair. "Does your mother know you flirt like this?"

You laughed, a rich, melodic sound, tossing his sunglasses back onto his lap before standing. "I’ll tell you what," you mused, running a finger along the rim of his abandoned drink. "Why don’t you come find me later? I’ll buy you one that isn’t watered down."

You turned before he could respond, knowing full well that his eyes were following you as you walked back toward the bar, hips swaying just enough to tease.

And, just as you expected, when you reached the bar, you heard the scrape of his chair against the wood of the deck.

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

Later that night, the resort shimmered under the glow of hanging lanterns and tiki torches, the open-air bar humming with soft music and drunken laughter. You were leaning against the bar, stirring the ice in your drink with a slow, deliberate motion, when you felt the presence before you saw him.

"You owe me a drink, remember?" Pedro’s voice was smooth, teasing, as he slid onto the stool beside you.

You smirked, lifting your glass in mock salute. "I always pay my debts. What are you having?"

He chuckled, shaking his head. "Surprise me."

You flagged down the bartender, ordering something strong but smooth, something that lingered. When the drink arrived, Pedro took a sip, eyes flicking to you in silent approval.

"You really don’t scare easy, do you?" he mused, tilting his head.

"Should I?" You propped your elbow on the bar, resting your chin in your hand. "Are you dangerous?"

He scoffed, shaking his head. "Not to you."

You leaned in slightly, his cologne mixing with the salt air. "Shame. I like a little danger."

Pedro exhaled a laugh, watching you with something unreadable in his gaze. "You keep playing like this, and you might get more than you bargained for."

"I’m counting on it."

The music shifted, something slow and sultry, and you reached for his hand before he could protest. "Dance with me."

He hesitated, just for a second, before exhaling through his nose, amused and defeated all at once. "You’re relentless."

"You have no idea."

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

The next morning, the resort’s breakfast terrace was bustling with early risers and those nursing hangovers from the previous night. You sat at a shaded table overlooking the water, sipping fresh orange juice when you spotted him.

Pedro was at the coffee station, brows furrowed as he poured himself a strong black coffee, clearly not a morning person. You smiled to yourself before calling out, "You look like you need something to wake you up."

He glanced up, weary yet amused. "Not all of us have your energy first thing in the morning."

You tilted your head, watching him as he approached your table. "Maybe you just need the right kind of breakfast."

He scoffed, setting his coffee down as he slid into the seat opposite yours. "Yeah? And what’s the ‘right kind’?"

You lifted a forkful of food from your plate, eyes glinting with mischief. "Well, I always go for something... satisfying. Something that keeps me full for a long time."

Pedro’s gaze darkened slightly, his fingers tightening around his mug. "That so?"

You hummed, pretending to consider. "Mmm-hmm. Like a good, thick sausage."

His jaw clenched, and you had to bite back a smirk. "You—"

"What?" You popped the bite into your mouth, chewing slowly, letting the silence stretch. "I just like my breakfast hearty."

Pedro exhaled through his nose, shaking his head. "You’re gonna kill me, aren’t you?"

You leaned forward, lowering your voice just enough to be suggestive. "Depends. Do you want to go out with a bang?"

Pedro groaned, rubbing a hand over his face. "Jesus."

You simply grinned, sipping your juice like you hadn’t just wrecked his morning in the best way possible.

It wasn’t until later, when the sun had begun its slow descent and the air had turned thick with humidity, that he found you again. You were stepping into the elevator, still in your blue bikini from an afternoon at the pool, a thin cover-up doing little to conceal how the damp fabric clung to your skin.

Pedro hesitated for only a second before following you in.

The doors slid shut, trapping you in a space far too small and intimate for the heat simmering between the two of you. You glanced up at him, all bright eyes and knowing smirks, leaning against the railing as you tapped a manicured finger against your lip. "You look like a man with something on his mind."

He huffed out a laugh, rubbing the back of his neck. "You’re gonna get me in trouble, aren’t you?"

You tilted your head, stepping closer. "Would that be such a bad thing?"

His hand flexed at his side, jaw tightening as you reached out, trailing a single finger down the front of his shirt. "I don’t think you realize what you’re doing."

"Oh, I do." You pressed in just enough that he could feel the heat of your body against his. "I just think you’re afraid to admit how much you like it."

The elevator dinged, doors sliding open to an empty hallway. You stepped back, offering a coy smile before walking ahead, your bare feet silent against the plush carpet. Pedro exhaled through his nose, shaking his head before following your lead.

When you reached his door, you turned to face him, waiting as he hesitated. His fingers hovered over the keycard reader, his resolve hanging by a thread. "Tell me to stop," he muttered, more to himself than to you.

You didn’t. Instead, you leaned in, close enough that your breath ghosted over his jaw. "Pedro," you murmured, lips just barely brushing his skin. "Are you really going to leave me standing out here?"

With a quiet curse, he slid the keycard through the reader. The lock clicked open, and you grinned, stepping past him into the dimly lit room. He followed, letting the door shut behind you before finally, finally closing the distance.

Before you could make another teasing comment, Pedro caged you against the wall with his arms, his hands pulling yours above your head as his mouth crushed against yours. Every doubt, every hesitation about what they were doing or the trouble it might bring him, burned away the second he tasted you. You whined against his lips, and the sound sent something primal rushing through him.

He deepened the kiss, swallowing every gasp, every teasing remark you might have thrown at him. His grip on your wrists tightened, holding you there as his other hand slid down, gripping the curve of your hip. "This is what you wanted, isn’t it?" he muttered against your mouth, his voice rough, strained.

You arched into him, breathless, your smirk barely visible between kisses. "Took you long enough."

Pedro groaned, dropping his forehead to yours for just a second before lifting you off the ground, carrying you the short distance to his bed. The last thing he saw before pressing you into the mattress was your wicked little grin—the one that told him you had him exactly where you wanted him to be.

Pedro didn’t waste time. His lips found your neck, trailing heat down to your collarbone, his fingers already working at the thin straps of your bikini top. You sighed, arching into him, your hands threading through his hair as he moved lower, tasting salt on your skin.

Your fingers trailed down his torso, slow and teasing, brushing over the waistband of his pants. He sucked in a sharp breath, pausing just enough to glance up at you with a warning look. "Eager much?"

You only smirked, pressing your palm flat against his stomach. "You’ve been making me wait all day. I think I’ve been patient enough."

His laugh was dark, a rough chuckle against your skin before he kissed down the curve of your waist. "You’re trouble, you know that?"

"Mmm," you hummed, tilting your head. "And yet, you haven’t stopped me."

Pedro groaned, his grip tightening on your hips before he pulled you fully beneath him, his mouth finding yours again.

His lips trail down all the way to your bikini bottom before undoing the laces that rest on your sides. He tosses it somewhere in the room and you watch him with amusement as he parts your legs, immersing himself in your cunt.

"Fuck" he curses at the sight of your bareness before diving in, hungrily kissing your cunt. Your hand traveled down to his hair, tugging as you felt his tongue graze your clit, drawing circles on it, lapping and teasing your entrance.

"Oh god yes!" You whined as he ate you out, his tongue making its way deeper, licking all over the place and suckling on your clit and kissing it, causing you to roll your eyes with pleasure.

He doesn't seem to get enough from you and truly he could just be there all day eating you out but his cock was threatening and pulsing inside his shorts. It urged him to get inside you that instant.

His face separated from your glistening cunt, his mustache and beard covered in your arousal, a scent that would follow him for the rest of the day or even longer.

You tugged at his shirt, pulling him to you so you could kiss his mouth, taste yourself in his tongue in a filthy kiss while your hands worked to pull his shirt off.

He removed his shorts and threw them across the room, took his shirt from your hands and threw it aside on the bed. The both of you were now completely bare. Your eyes traveled his body and you licked your mouth. This is exactly what you had been hoping for all week and finally it was now in front of you.

He stood on his knees, pulling your legs up and apart. He opened a condom with his teeth and wrapped up before he tapped his cock on your entrance and watched as it went all the way in stretching you out, he let out a groan feeling your tight walls around him and he let out another curse.

"Fuck me Daddy" you whimpered,

"What's that now? Say it again"

"Fuck me Daddy" you repeated but he remained still inside of you. You tried to move your hips but his hands gripped your hips stopping you from any movement.

"You young people and manners" He tsked playfully teasing.

"Please! Fuck me Daddy, please!" you begged, and finally he moved. His thrusts were intense and your hiccuped moans only cheered him to go harder.

"You're doing so well baby" He groaned hitting your cervix repeatedly with every thrust, balls slapping against your ass as he buried himself deeper. "Taking this so well, being so good for Daddy"

Soon your walls tightened even more around him and he cheekily smiled, looking at you who were lost in lust, whimpering and moaning with every movement and the tense feeling growing in your core.

"Are you gonna cum for me, hmm baby? Gonna make a mess for me?"

"Yes Daddy, I'm so close!"

You whined nodding your head looking at him. He smiled amused and his hand moved from your hip to your clit, adding pressure to your beaming bud as you tensed even more. He watched you as your voice became louder and his other hand moved to cover your mouth so no one would call about disturbance noises.

Pedro wanted this moment to last forever, and he tried for the longest time to think of anything that crossed his mind other than you, your face or your voice. However soon stilled himself inside you, just as you arched your back, a scream muffled by his hand as you both came at the same time.

Pedro groaned, his grip tightening on your hips before he pulled you fully beneath him, his mouth finding yours again.

He caught himself before falling on top of you, not wanting to crush you, and rolled off, his chest rising and falling as he recovered his breath. You, however, were already on for another round. Before he could react, you moved swiftly, straddling him, your hands roaming over his chest, feeling the rapid thud of his heartbeat beneath your palm.

He let out a breathy laugh, shaking his head. "You trying to kill me, baby?"

You only smirked, dragging your nails lightly down his torso. "What, too much for you?"

Pedro exhaled through his nose, gripping your thighs. "You’re insatiable. Didn’t I just fuck your brain out?"

You leaned down, lips ghosting over his ear. "And yet, you’re still hard. Interesting."

He groaned, tilting his head back against the pillow. "You're going to be the death of me."

The room was quiet except for the distant murmur of the ocean and the slow, steady rhythm of their breathing. You lay sprawled against him, your fingers tracing idle patterns along his chest, his skin still warm beneath your touch. Pedro had one arm tucked behind his head, the other draped lazily over your back, his fingers grazing your spine.

For a moment, neither of you spoke.

Then you hummed, pressing a slow, teasing kiss to his jaw. "Took you long enough."

Pedro let out a breathy chuckle, his fingers tightening slightly on your hip. "I should’ve known you wouldn’t let that go."

You propped yourself up on one elbow, watching him. His usual brooding expression was softened, his lips parted, eyes half-lidded as he looked up at you. But there was something else there—something quieter, more thoughtful.

"No regrets?" you asked, tilting your head, though there was a playful lilt to your voice like you already knew the answer.

Pedro exhaled through his nose, smirking faintly. "If I did, I wouldn’t still be here."

You grinned, dragging your fingers down his chest. "Good answer."

He huffed a laugh, shaking his head, but you could feel the weight behind it—like maybe, just maybe, this wasn’t something he could just brush off. Maybe you had gotten under his skin more than he wanted to admit.

You didn’t press. Not yet. Instead, you rolled onto your back beside him, sighing dramatically. "Guess I’ll have to figure out how to keep myself entertained tomorrow."

Pedro turned his head to look at you, amusement flickering in his eyes. "That supposed to be a hint?"

You smirked, stretching your arms above your head. "Just saying… it’d be a shame if this was a one-time thing."

He didn’t respond right away, but when he did, his voice was quieter, rougher. "Yeah. It would."

You felt something settle in your chest at that—not a promise, but not nothing either. You turned to him, met his gaze, and for a second, the playful teasing between you two gave way to something heavier, something unspoken.

Then, just as quickly, you smirked, breaking the moment. "You’re staring, Pascal."

Pedro let out a soft chuckle, shaking his head. "Go to sleep, troublemaker."

You grinned, snuggling deeper into the sheets. "Only if you stay."

He didn’t answer, but the way his arm tightened around you was enough.

🌊🌊🌊🌊🌊🌊🌊🌊🌊🌊🌊🌊🌊🌊🌊🌊

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keirareidss · 12 days ago

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not a burden - a.h

♡ summary: you think you're too much for aaron, he thinks you're perfect pairing: aaron hotchner x fem!reader warnings: hurt/comfort, angst kinda wc: 1.8k request here

Hotch never liked bringing work home. He avoided doing so if he could but sometimes, it was inevitable. It was Friday evening and, instead of staying cooped up at the office, he brought his files home. What he found when he got there, was you and his son at the coffee table, doing Jack's homework.

"Hi, honey." He murmurs as he bends down, wrapping an arm around your shoulders, his face in your hair.

"Hi, you're home early." You turned to look at him.

"I am, but I still have a few files to do." He held up the stack, showing you with a frown. You stuck out your bottom lip sympathetically before turning back to Jack.

"Jack, buddy, your dad's home." The little boy had barely even realized, so focused on his work, his tongue poking out from his lips as he scribbled the answers to his math problems. His head shot up when he registered your words, whipping around to find his dad behind the couch. He jumped into his arms, Aaron stumbling back a bit with a laugh as he caught the boy against his chest.

"Daddy! I'm almost done with my math."

"Really? All by yourself?"

"Uh huh!"

"I'm so proud of you." He sets Jack back down on the couch, dropping his files on the kitchen counter. You get up, following him to the kitchen.

"There's pasta in the fridge, I can heat it up for you."

"I've got it, don't worry." His voice is soft as he serves some of the pasta onto a plate, putting it in the microwave. He pulls you closer by the waist, slotting your body against his. "How's your day been?"

"Fine. You?" He chuckles at your modest answer.

"Alright. I missed you." He presses a kiss to your lips as the microwave beeps. He steps away, your warmth leaving him as he takes out his dinner. "I'm gonna head to my office for a bit, you and Jack can watch a movie when he finishes his homework if you want." He picks up his files in his other hand and you plant another kiss on his lips before letting him pass you and head to his office, pausing at the couch to give his son a kiss on the head.

You sighed, heading back to the sofa and plopping down next to the young boy.

"Alright buddy, what have we got left?"

You yawned, your head nodding forward for the third time as you struggled to keep your eyes on the television. Jack's head was on your shoulder, a bowl of popcorn in your lap that his small hand dipped into every few minutes.

You blinked your eyes open again, sighing as you carefully stood, letting the boy fall to the couch behind you as you set the bowl on the coffee table. You started off in search of your boyfriend. It'd been over an hour since he tucked himself away in his office. Jack had finished his homework and you let him pick a movie for the two of you.

The sounds of 'Spiderman' on the TV faded behind you as you knocked on the home office door. A faint 'come in' was heard in a tired, rumbly voice behind the wood and you twisted the handle, peeking inside.

"Hey, you finished with work? The movie's almost over and I think we're cuing up 'Finding Nemo' next. My choice."

"No, I'm not done yet." He murmurs, not looking up from the file in front of him, bottom lip tucked between his teeth.

"You sure you can't spare an hour or so with your son and your lovely girlfriend?" You asked, strolling behind his desk and bending down, wrapping your arms around his shoulders.

"I really can't, this are due soon, I need to finish them tonight."

"Aaron, come on." You purred, still in playful mode and you kissed his cheek.

"Honey-"

"I mean, seriously, one hour of your time. I'm sure your files can wait-"

"They really can't. These are important and I can't... indulge you right now." He snapped, shrugging you off of his shoulders. You straightened, the smile dropping from your face. "I'm sorry, could you just- I can't have any distractions." You sighed. He didn't even look at you.

"Of course." You mumbled, leaving his office, hesitating in the doorway and glancing back at him. He looked so focused it was as if you had never come in to distract him at all. Maybe he felt that as well, forgetting your interaction moments later. You quietly closed the door behind you, heading back to the living room to find the younger Hotchner asleep on the couch.

Your mind raced as you bent, scooping him into your arms. Aaron was probably right. You were just a distraction. His files were more important that your movie, and you knew that. Why did you think it was a good idea to go and bother him in the first place?

You set Jack in his bed, tucking him under the covers. You brushed a hand gently through his hair, smiling softly at his sleeping form. You placed a gentle kiss to his forehead before exiting his room. Back in the living room once more, you slumped onto the couch.

Maybe you should go talk to him. No, no, that's stupid. You didn't want to be more of a burden than you already were. Hotch was a busy man. You could see that. You shouldn't even be upset about this, this- this is nothing. You're fine. Right?

The door closed behind you and seconds later, Hotch's brain caught up with his mouth as he realized what he'd said to you. He lifted his head from his work, staring at the door as if that would somehow bring you back. He wanted to call out to you, drag you back to him so he could apologize but the words didn't come.

I can't indulge you right now? I can't have any distractions? What was he thinking? Was he really stupid enough to tell his girlfriend that his files are more important than her?

He pushed himself away from his desk, striding towards the door. He needed to make amends immediately. If he let this fester any longer you'd start spiraling in your head and heading down paths neither of you wanted you to be on.

He found you in the living room on the couch, your phone in your lap as you fired off a text to Garcia, confirming plans for the weekend. You'd met her through Hotch, the bubbly, colorful woman begging to meet you from the minute she found out you existed.

The team found out Hotch had a girlfriend when he left his phone face up on the table on the jet and went to the bathroom. Granted, there were signs before that, the hidden smiles at his phone, the constant calls around lunch time, the fact that he started being more lenient with time off and even going home early himself some nights.

"Hey, honey. Everything alright?" He approached cautiously, trying to gauge whether you were angry with him, or upset at his words. You lifted your head to look at him.

"Yeah, fine? Why?" He sat down next to you with a sigh.

"What I said earlier-"

"Oh, Aaron, it's fine, it's nothing. I'm fine."

"No- no it isn't fine. I didn't mean what I said, it was rude of me to dismiss you like that. I'm sorry."

"Really, you don't need to apologize." Aaron's eyebrows furrowed at your reaction to his apology.

"Why are you brushing this off?"

"I'm- I'm not-" You chuckled but it quickly turned into an unexpected sob where you quickly shut your mouth to stifle it. "I'm fine." You said clearing your throat. Aaron quickly shuffled closer to you, your knees brushing, his hands taking yours.

"Sweetheart, I'm really sorry. Please don't cry."

"I'm not-" You found hot tears forming behind your eyes out of nowhere. You sniffled, trying to recompose yourself. Hotch pulled you into his arms, holding you against his chest as he kissed your head and shushed you.

"It's alright. Tell me what's going on."

"I... I don't want to burden you, Aaron." He pulled back slightly, to look in your eyes.

"You are not a burden. Is that what you think?"

"I don't know, I guess..."

"Honey, you are not. Not at all... nowhere near a burden for me. I love you-" He stamped a kiss to your lips. "So much." Another kiss. "And you are so important to me," A third kiss to your pouty lips. "And I need you to know that you are not a- a strain or a bother, or anything like that. Okay?" You nodded as he gently cupped your face, wiping your teary cheeks with his thumb.

"Okay."

"Okay." He nods, pulling you back to his chest. You both lean back against the couch, your head on his chest, his arms around your shoulders. "Is Jack asleep?"

"Mhm." You hummed, cuddling further into him. "He's very good at math, did you know?"

"Yeah, he's always been good at that sort of thing." Aaron smiles proudly. "You know what you're good at?" He asks, and you aren't sure if it's rhetorical or if it's one of those times where he wants you to praise yourself because he thinks you're being too harsh on yourself.

"Um-"

"Everything." He says and you smile at his cheekiness.

"Thank you. You always know what to say to make me feel better." You tilted your head back, looking up at him.

"Of course. It's my job." He pressed a kiss to your nose, smiling down at you. "Is Finding Nemo still on the table?" He whispered and you let out a loud laugh before slapping a hand over your mouth, your eyes wide as you giggled quietly, hoping you hadn't woken the sleeping boy in the next room. "Shh, Jack's asleep." He chuckled, smiling like a teenage boy not wanting to be caught by your parents.

"Sorry, sorry." You said through breathy laughs. Soon enough, you'd forgotten all about your worries of being too much for your boyfriend and were too distracted by his cuddles and his corny wit to have anything but tears of laughter coming from your eyes.

And later than night, when he'd carried you to bed and held you tight to his chest, whispering sweet nothing's to you, you were absolutely sure that you were enough for this man.

Taglist: @cinnamoncunt, @dramioneforevertilltheend

#criminal minds #♡ keira's fics #aaron hotchner x reader #aaron hotchner one shot #aaron hotchner hurt/comfort #aaron hotchner angst #aaron hotchner fluff

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witherby · 5 months ago

Note

HI HI. SAME ANON :33anon here!!!

omg???? jfc christ? that was so good im shaking my cup for more 😭 i think the fact my ask is being used as a power shower is silly... i love it keep up the good work!

(side note ive done metamorphosis may i be 🎆anon.... i will be yapping at you on a later date o7)

Welcome to the club 🎆 I am smooching ur cheek

Hahaha...wouldn't it be so silly....if I used your ask again.....to post the second part hahahaha.....isn't that the silliest idea hahahaha.........

The Littlest Wayne: Uncertain Home

(Part 2 of 2)

Masterlist is Here!

"Let me make sure I've got this straight."

Everyone stiffens in their seats. When Batman says things like that, it means he is very, very close to yelling. Batman never yells unless his patience has reached its limit, his emotional threshold has bubbled over, or he hasn't slept in over six consecutive days. Given his usual activities, it could very well be a combination of the three, and the current situation is not helping.

"You —" he points a gauntleted finger at Manhunter, "— realized my child was showing signs of developing their powers six weeks ago, and told no one."

He turns to Superman and Diana next, talking through clenched teeth.

"And then you two, today, realized the same thing, indirectly told them they would no longer have a place in my home, and then they vanished under your cape."

He places his hands on the meeting table. Inhales. Exhales.

"No one attempted to reach out and express their concerns to me, the father, in either incident."

He slams his fists on the table. The wood splinters under the impact. Everyone flinches with it.

"AND NOW MY CHILD IS MISSING! DID I FORGET ANYTHING? DID I LEAVE ANYTHING OUT!?"

The silence afterwards is deafening. Bruce yanks his cowl off and slams it to the floor, running his hands through his hair.

"The Watchtower is under lockdown until further notice. We do not leave until either I find my kid, or I figure out how to track them down."

"Batman," the Flash chimes in, "I feel for you. This is a bad situation, but we can't all stay here; I have to —"

Bruce rounds the table and crowds Barry into his seat with near-inhuman speed. His eyes are wide and wild and his teeth are bared.

"We do not leave until I find them."

The lights briefly turn red and an automated voice comes over the intercom, alerting them that lockdown protocols have initiated. The heroes watch as blast shields cover the windows and the Zeta tubes deactivate, effectively blocking their only ways out.

Green Lantern re-enters the room from the observation deck with a determined expression.

"Checked the monitors and surrounding galaxy. Skies are clear, and earth-side we should be fine for at least a couple hours, so I went ahead and triggered the protocol."

"Hal!" Barry protests. "C'mon, I'm gonna be late to work again! It's not as easy for some of us to maintain our civilian covers, you know!"

"Well, then it sounds like we gotta find our missing Mouse fast."

Bruce presses a button on his gauntlet and pulls a small ball out of it, rolling it to the center of the table. A hologram screen pops up and shows a picture of you sitting in Tim's lap and enthusiastically looking at something on his computer with him. To the right of the image, a wall of text begins to appear, detailing observations made about your growth, health, and development of your powers.

"You already knew," Diana mutters, like the words have been punched out of her. Clark holds his head in his hands.

"Why didn't you tell us then, huh?" Oliver frowns. "Didn't think we could benefit from that information?"

"My child, my discretion," Bruce hisses. That shuts Ollie right back up. "This is everything I've been able to passively observe about their ability. They can latch onto any shadows in their immediate vicinity, up to a range of approximately one hundred feet, and until now has only used them for pathfinding, like solving puzzles or looking for small objects. What just happened today with Superman's cape is the first discovered instance of them being able to traverse into darkness itself."

"That's why the Watchtower is locked down," J'onn realizes. "If they can only travel so far with the shadows, chances are high that they're still in here."

"Yes."

"How do we pull them out if we find them?" Arthur speaks up, arms crossed. "Last I checked, no one else has shadow powers."

"Do what you can without risking injury to them or yourselves. If you can talk them out, that will be the ideal tactic. Any more questions?" Bruce waits a few seconds for anyone to speak up, then dismisses the holo-screen and rises to his full height. "Then everyone fan out, cast some shadows, and get to work."

Arthur is having no luck. He checks the furniture that was already casting shadows, like tables and beds and appliances, to no avail. Calling to you and feeling around those dark spaces isn't gonna get him anywhere.

Clark and Diana had picked up his cape and hunkered down under the fabric, gingerly asking you to please come out, Uncle Clark and Auntie Di are very sorry they implied what they did, they never meant to scare you, please please please come back.

Barry is zipping around the whole tower, checking high spaces and low, calling for you with a mixture of urgency and concern.

Ollie uses his body to cast a shadow under the fluorescent lighting and Dinah crouches in the space of it, patting the ground gently and urging you to appear. She insists everyone is worried and looking for you because they want you to be safe.

Bruce is frantic. He's visually very composed, but Hal can see the tremble in his hands as he slowly and methodically checks every single shadow he can find or create for signs of you.

"Bruce," Hal mutters, watching him check his cape for the fifteenth time in just as many minutes. "Bruce, sit down and breathe for a bit."

"Don't mention breathing," Bruce snaps. "This is unprecedented. I'm working with zero useful information and three of my teammates contributed to this situation in the first place. Can they just exist in darkness forever, or is there a limit before they get spit back out? Can they even get back out? Is there oxygen wherever they are? Are they safe or in any kind of distress? If you don't have answers to these questions or haven't found them yet, I don't want you talking to me."

He turns to check his cape again and almost runs right into J'onn.

"There was a shadow moving in the training room," he noted. "When I approached to investigate, it melted away. I found it important to tell you that Flittermouse seems to be active and uninjured judging by the ease in which that shadow moved."

The Manhunter leaves them again, phasing through the walls to continue searching for you. Bruce pulls his gloves off and rubs his face, sighing.

"Hal."

"I forgive you," comes the immediate reply. Hal places a hand on Bruce's back and offers him a thin smile. "You're a dad who's scared for your four-year-old kid. I think you're entitled to a little bit of bitchiness."

Bruce hums.

"Just a little bit, though. Like fifteen percent more bitch than your baseline. Which is to say, if you talk to me like that again I'm going to make a giant cartoon hammer and beat you to death with it."

Both men hear you giggle. Their heads whip around in the direction of the sound, and find a small, child-shaped shadow moulded into the corner. It's a strange thing, to look at a shadow with no source. It would be frightening if it wasn't you.

"Mouse?" Bruce immediately calls, stepping towards you. The giggling stops and the shadow shrinks. He crouches down, palms extended. "No no no! Don't go, don't go anywhere, please. Can I talk to you?"

You don't respond. Bruce isn't entirely sure if you can, in your current form. You haven't run away yet, however, so he inches just a bit closer.

"I'm...there's...." He stops and starts, searching for the best words to use. "Mouse, there was a misunderstanding. No one is making you leave. I'm not going to give you up or send you away, I promise."

"...m e t a h u m a n..." you mutter. Both Bruce and Hal shiver. It sounds like darkness itself whispering directly into their ears, faint and echoing and all-encompassing.

"Yes, that's what people with skills like yours are called," he confirms.

Your shadow doesn't move for a while. Bruce shuffles closer, palms extended, and is about to ask you to come out, but then your entire form wobbles and starts shrinking even more.

"...n o m e t a s i n G o t h a m..." you say, and the sadness in your voice is so potent Hal has to brace himself against the wall.

"No!" Bruce says, pressing his palm against the wall just a second too late. You dissolve and disappear. "That's not — ffffffuck."

He presses his forehead to the wall and closes his eyes, taking slow, deep breaths to avoid screaming. It takes a while.

"They're not going to talk to me," he eventually says. "They're scared of me, of that damned rule I —"

He cuts himself off and rubs a hand down his face.

"You have to do it."

"Me? Specifically?" Hal asks.

"You're their favorite uncle." Bruce pushes himself off the floor and rests his hand on Hal's forearm. "They adore you. They ask when you're going to visit Gotham again all the time. If anybody's gonna get them to understand that they're not in any trouble or danger of losing their family because of something I did, it's gonna be you."

"Whoa. No pressure," Hal says. He knows it's true though — you absolutely adore Hal, and the feeling is mutual. You feel almost like his own kid. He's just as scared as Bruce is about your current situation. "Okay...alright, I got this. Listen, tell the others that Mouse probably isn't gonna come out for 'em. Go hang out in the meeting room and gimme an hour alone. I'll bring them back."

Bruce nods, but he seems hesitant to leave the part of the hall where they spotted your shadow. Hal gives him a small nudge and he eventually turns away, his boots clocking softly against the floor.

Hal inhales slowly, holds it, then exhales for a count of ten.

He's got this.

He does not have this. Hal walked into an empty corridor and flicked all the lights off, choosing to sit in the darkness and try calling out to you for almost thirty minutes. There's been no luck.

He sighs and uses his ring to construct a small bear, illuminating the immediate space around him in green, and makes it walk around.

"Y'know you used to love playing with my constructs," he murmurs. "We had this game I made up, where you would chase after whatever toy I made as fast as you could and try to catch it. I let you win a lot."

He makes a construct of you as a much smaller infant, not yet able to walk, crawling eagerly after the bear.

"You'd grab the little toy and hug it tight, and then come show me you got it. And I'd scoop you up and give you a cookie before we did it all again. We had to really tone down the cookie part because you got sick one time. Bruce made me sleep on the floor for a week. Not even one of the million couches in the manor. The floor. It was the worst."

He hears the surrounding darkness around him giggle. Hal leans against the wall and heaves a large, relieved sigh.

"Hey, kid," he says softly. "S'good to hear you."

You don't respond. He tries not to feel discouraged, instead seizing the opportunity presented.

"I'm not gonna ask you to come out, but if you don't mind...I'm kinda lonely. D'you think we could play that game again?"

Hal vanishes the constructs and makes a new one — a small, stuffed bat toy. He makes it flap its little wings and flop in circles.

"Think you can catch it? This one's a bit feisty."

Nothing happens for a few seconds. Hal feels himself growing nervous, and he's about to abandon the idea and suggest something else, but then the bat just vanishes. The construct is sucked up into the shadows, like darkness itself came up and hugged it into the void. A knot in his chest comes undone.

"That," he says, "was awesome. Okay, here's another one. Even feistier than the last."

This goes on for a while. Hal makes something for you to chase, you emerge from the dark just long enough to pull it in with you, and the process is rinse and repeat. Eventually, though, you come out of the shadows more and more, staying out of it longer and longer to chase around the conjured toys, until you're just tossing them into the shadows with gleeful little cheers.

"Got it!" You cry, jumping up to reach another one, this time shaped like an owl. You're panting from exertion and grinning widely at Hal, just standing and hugging it to your chest. "I win?"

"You win again," Hal agrees, expression painfully fond. He adores you wholeheartedly. "C'mere and get a victory hug, kid. Don't have any cookies on me, but we'll do a raincheck on that."

You go to him easily, practically collapsing in his lap, and rest your head against his chest while you idly pet the glowing owl toy. The area is bathed in dim green, enough to see each other without strain but still casting more than enough shadows for you to hide in again if you wanted.

"Fantastic job," Hal murmurs, kissing the top of your head. You nuzzle into his chest even more, hiding your face. "We definitely have to do that again some time. Don't you think?"

You start to nod, but the motion is jerky. You hesitate, then shrug, hugging the toy tighter.

"Oh, Mousey," he says, running his fingers through your hair. "You didn't think your powers would make Uncle Hal stop wanting to play with you, did ya?"

You slowly nod again, curling in on yourself.

"Well, that's just plain wrong. I love you, honey. Everybody loves you, y'know? You're smart, and adorable, and soooo much fun to be around," Hal insists, giving you a quick squeeze. Your mouth twitches like you're trying not to smile. "And it's gonna be way more fun now that you have cool shadow powers! Hide and seek might get a little challenging, but we'll make it work."

"...and Daddy?" You mutter. "Will he...want to play, too?"

"I know Daddy would love to play any game you wanted," Hal swore. "Daddy loves you more than anything in the whole wide world. And you know what else?"

"What?" You ask, lifting your head. You look at him with wide eyes and furrowed brows, hanging onto his every word.

"Sometimes Daddy makes mistakes. Like creating dumb rules he shoulda broke years ago."

You look away, snuggling further into Hal.

"What if...Daddy don't wanna break the rule?" You whisper.

Hal curls around you almost protectively, kissing your head again.

"Then he's a big, smelly dummy, and I'll take care of you instead," he promises. "You can live at my house, and I'll still bring you to the Watchtower to hang out with everyone and play games, and maybe, if you're extra good, I'll take you on vacation in outer space. I'll show you things you've never seen, like planets with four moons, and people as tall as skyscrapers, and space food that turns your hair all different colors. It'll explode your tiny head!"

"Nooo!" You giggle, grinning. "I don't want a exploded head!"

"Hmm...you drive a hard bargain kid," Hal says. "Okay, I won't give you explodey-head food. But only because you said so."

He lets you get your laughter out, then gently pats your back to regain your attention.

"I know you're very scared," he says, "but I promise this doesn't change the fact that you are so, so incredibly loved. I bet if you gave the others a chance, they'd be more than willing to prove it. Especially your dad."

You tighten your grip on the owl in your arms, bottom lip wobbling for a moment.

"Could you give him a chance, Mouse?" Hal asks. "If you don't want to, that's fine. We can work an arrangement out and always try again a different day. But I know he would be really, really excited to see you again."

You stare at Hal, face tight in contemplation. He waits patiently, continuing to rub small circles in your back.

His patience is rewarded when you bury your face in his chest again, nodding.

"Want daddy," you whisper. Hal settles you more securely in his arms and immediately rises to his feet, relishing the burst of satisfaction and relief in his chest.

He takes you back into the meeting room. Bruce immediately stands up from the table when he spots you curled up in Hal's embrace, hands twitching like he wants to hold you himself.

He moves with all the carefulness of someone approaching a wild animal. His face is uncharacteristically open, broadcasting his worry for you and relief that you're unharmed.

"Hi, sweet pea," Bruce mutters, silk-soft, and that's all it takes to make you start sobbing and reach for him. Your father doesn't hesitate, sweeping you up and giving assurance after assurance that you are just as treasured and loved as you've always been, that he is so happy to be your dad, that you belong in Gotham and that will never change no matter what.

The lockdown gets lifted from the Watchtower. Several heroes, after conveying their relief and gratitude over your safety, take their leave. Diana and Clark stay behind to apologize profusely, both to you and Bruce, for implying that you would ever be unwelcome in your own home just for being different. It's easy for you to forgive them, but Bruce is grinding his jaw a bit, so they excuse themselves for the night and take their leave.

"Well." Hal claps his hands together and yawns. "I'm ready for a drink and a bed. What do we say we hit the road, huh? C'mon, B, let's get Flittermouse back home. I've hit my daily quota for adventure."

Bruce nods, walking with you back to the Zeta tubes. You've already nodded off in his arms, drained from your stressful day.

"Thank you, Hal," he says, preparing to warp home. "Come by after the kids are in bed. Let me repay you properly."

"Y'know, normally I'd be all over that," Hal smirks, "but I'm seriously beat. Can I cash my reward in tomorrow?"

Bruce gives him a small smile. "Whenever you want. Come by anyway, if you like. We don't have to do anything."

"Yeah, okay. I'll see you later, then." Hal crosses his arms and relaxes against the corridor wall, smiling down at your dozing form. "You take care. Both of you."

Bruce thanks him again, disappearing in a flash of light. When Hal drops by later that evening, he finds his boyfriend asleep with you in his arms, clinging to his shirt and drooling on his chest as you coast peacefully in Dreamland.

Before joining the cuddle pile, he finds that sitting on the nightstand, written in a combination of pen and crayon, is a contract holding both yours and Bruce's signatures:

The rule against Metahumans in Gotham is hereby null and void forever and ever.

Signed by: Daddy & Mousey

#batfam x reader #littlest wayne au #long post #batlantern #🎆#Uncle Hal is your favorite and that's forever uncontested

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twisted-broth · 1 month ago

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Emergency Rendezvous

Introduction

TW: accidental drugging, aphrodisiacs (no actual smut yet but reader is v horny)

You swat Grim's paws away from the ingredients on the table for the third time while Crewel continued explaining the science behind your assigned potion. He grumbled impatiently, resting his chin on the workbench. With the hand not prepared to Throw Down, you copied Crewel's drawing of some kind of chemical synapse with little bubbles in between labeled "endorphins".

"What makes this solution so potent is the ability of our magic ingredients to act directly on endorphin-releasing pathways in the brain, encouraging the body's natural painkiller system rather than introducing an artificial one. This greatly reduces the risk of addiction seen in non-magical analgesics. While this potion is relatively low risk, and hopefully easy enough that even you pups can't mess it up, there is a significant overlap with nearby pathways that may produce unintended effects. I trust that I've trained you properly enough to thoroughly check the labels on your ingredients and weigh them carefully."

The moment Crewel ended his lecture, Grim was grabbing at the various powders and herbs. With barely a glance given to the textbook in between you two, he started haphazardly shaking the magical- and probably expensive- elements into a weigh boat on the scale.

"Grim! What part of 'read the label' did you not understand?" You reach for the bottle, but are too slow to stop Grim from tossing the ingredient into your cauldron. You sigh wearily, resigned to leave the fate of your grade in Grim's trigger-happy paws. You manage to double check most of the ingredients before they're added to the mix, surprisingly in the correct order. After over a year spent with your troublesome pet/friend/roommate/co-student, you've learned to adopt an "it is what it is" mindset.

When the concoction is finally done, you're honestly shocked to see that your potion is the same color as everyone else's. To make it even better, nothing exploded in the process! You swirled the blue potion around in the flask, admiring the iridescent tone.

"Good dogs!" Crewel congratulated the class, almost sounding surprised that nothing had gone wrong. "Since you've all signed your waivers, and the risk associated is low, I'll allow you to test your products now or save them for later. If you experience any adverse side effects, inform me at once. Class dismissed!"

You eyed the potion on the desk in front of you, weighing the risks it posed. A tap on your shoulder stole your attention, and you swiveled around to see Ace sporting his usual self-righteous smirk. Beside him, Deuce was curiously sniffing their own creation.

"What d'ya think, prefect? Gonna give it a taste test?"

You respond with a weary laugh, finding that the shimmer of the potion was becoming less and less appealing. "I don't know... I mean I don't really have any pain right now. I guess my back is a bit sore?" You reply noncommittally.

Ace rolled his eyes with a tsk. "Aw, c'mon! Crewel never lets us try the potions we make. I, for one, have a killer headache. Cough it up Loosey Deucey!"

Ace swipes the flask from Deuce's hands, ignoring his scoff of protest. With disturbingly little hesitation, he downs the potion in seconds and licks the stray blue droplets from the corner of his mouth. The three of you watch him with mixed expressions of anxiety and curiosity, waiting for the potion to take effect. After another minute or so, Ace's eyes widened in excitement. "Hey, it's totally working! Damn that's a lot better!"

"And of course you had to go and hog it all to yourself," Deuce grumbled, resting his head on the workbench.

Grim pushed your experimental product closer to you. "Well? Go on, henchhuman! Anything the Great Grim makes will be 10x better than those two."

You raised an eyebrow, highly doubtful of Grim's claim considering his disregard for proper measurements. You open your mouth to voice your hesitation, but the excitement in his eyes gives you pause. Well, Crewel did say the potion was pretty low-risk, even if you did make it wrong. And you suppose even Grim deserves some semblance of a win on occasion. With a heavy sigh, you raise the flask to your lips and down the concoction.

You're pleasantly surprised by how good it tastes. Not that you were really paying attention to the ingredients, but you just assumed it would be terrible. Instead, the faint taste of honeysuckle and lavender dances across your tongue, gracing your throat with a warm coating on the way down. You can trace the warmth down your chest and into the stomach, where it slowly dissipates throughout the rest of your body. Despite the pleasant sensation, you say with certainty that your back ache had gone away. Rather, you were distracted from the dull pain as the same warm feeling flooded and settled in your groin.

Either from the potion or the realization of your situation, a furious blush burned your cheeks and ears. It took nearly a minute for you to regain your composure and notice the voices of your friends calling out to you in concern.

"Y/n! Are you alright?" Deuce gently placed a hand on your forearm, trying to bring you back to reality. You gasp at the touch, quickly withdrawing your arm as though you had been burned. Noticing your friends hurt expression, you cleared your throat in embarrassment.

"Sorry! Just a different sensation than I was expecting. You did great Grim! It works really well." You laugh unconvincingly, already feeling a drop of sweat budding at your temple.

Ignoring the various expressions of concern and confusion, you stand up abruptly, nearly knocking your chair over in the process. You make quick work of gathering your belongings, using all your focus to hold onto your last bit of composure.

"Sorry guys, I forgot that I uh... told Azul I would help out at the lounge! It'll be suuuuper boring though, so you guys should go on without me. I'll catch up to you later!" Without leaving room for protest, you rushed out of the lab room, hiding your beet-red face behind your free hand.

Within minutes, you were urgently knocking on Crewel's office door. The sudden noise summoned two large black noses to the narrow gap under the door where they sniffed intently at your feet. From within the office, you hear Crewel call out for you to enter. The dogs retreat from the door at the sound of their master's voice, allowing you space to slip in and close the door quickly behind you.

Although Crewel initially only glances in your direction, he does a double take at the sight of your flushed face and sweat-drenched brow. Two lanky Dalmatians regard you with mild intrigue from their large bed in the corner, where they lay daintily on top of one another. A rare look of concern crosses Crewel's features. "Prefect? Are you alright?"

You stay pressed against the door, trying to distance yourself from the tempting scent of Crewel's cologne. Your hand feebly attempts to cover your nose and mouth, and you shake your head no. "O-our potion," you stutter, "I think something went wrong".

Continuing to test your self control, Crewel stands and approaches you, assessing your vulnerable state. He presses the back of his hand to your forehead to feel for a fever. To your continued humiliation, a quiet whine escapes you at the contact. His eyes widened slightly, but he quickly dawns a mask of professionalism as he retracts his hand.

"I see. Well, as I mentioned in lecture, slight alterations in the potion's formula can trigger alternate pathways which are also mediated by endorphins. One such pathway is the arousal pathway. It would seem that significant enough errors were made that your potion activated your arousal pathway, rather than the intended pain relief pathway". He explains the error matter-of-factly, returning to his desk.

Your jaw dropped in disbelief. Arousal pathway? Doesn't the universe ever get tired of playing practical jokes on you? The persistent throbbing in your core sent the clear message that it doesn't. You groan, burying your face in your hands in an attempt to disappear from the face of the earth. "Can you undo it?"

"I'm afraid the only inhibitor of such endorphins is prolactin, the neurotransmitter released after orgasm. Unfortunately, we've yet to artificially synthesize an effective substitute. Otherwise, your body should metabolize the potion in eight hours." You were appreciative of Crewel's calm and even tone. Even if it didn't cure your current predicament, maybe you'll be able to look him in the eyes again someday.

Making the choice to not dig this hole even deeper, you gave him a grateful bow and quickly departed. Your mind was swimming as you made a beeline for Ramshackle, hoping to make it home before your knees started buckling. At last, you shut the door to your quiet dorm building. Your heart pounded in your ears, though if it was racing from the speed walking or the overwhelming arousal coursing through your blood, you weren't sure.

In any case, your options were to suffer for eight hours, or to get fucked. Well, you would be fucked either way. Your legs finally gave out by the time you had crawled to your bed and curled up on your side. The pillow trapped between your thighs did little to reduce the pressure that consumed every thought. As you stripped down to your underwear, your trembling fingers and raging heart made it very apparent that you weren't in any state to be able to take care of this yourself.

Several faces flashed through your mind, innocent encounters with your friends being quickly perverted in your brain. With less apprehension than was probably warranted, you pulled out your phone and opened your contacts. It wasn't an impressively long list, but nonetheless you quickly found the name you were looking for. The voice of reason in your head insisted that you would never live this down, but it was quickly gagged by the larger majority of your brain that was begging to be fucked.

With shaky hand, you pressed the call button.

A/n: if you missed the poll, I'm hoping to make this a series (no promises). Either way, the first victim will be Leona 😮‍💨

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fall-of-efrafa · 2 months ago

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in a meta sense the most infuriating thing about transandrophobia is the people who utterly refuse to engage with it

they get the information on what it is from 2nd hand sources, just believing what anyone opposed to it says - even to the extent they regurgitate lies about people who actively participate in it without looking at any of the claims themselves (which is often passed-down-whispered style incorrect, also), and then lie further that people on their side aren't even capable of doing what those evil transandrobros do

then the people i've seen in the tag(s) who've said 'i used to think this was bad, looked at it, and holy shit you guys really are just talking about your experience with transphobia as trans men', honestly. honestly thank you for existing. i mean i don't even give a shit whether or not you come out agreeing that transandrophobia exists and is bad i just give a shit you took the time to look at it without immediately writing it off as bad. like... sure it's the bare minimum but most people don't bother to do the bare minimum of looking at both sides and coming to a conclusion on their own.

i swear 90% of my blocks nowadays are people who have 0 arguments against transandrophobia they're just there to go 'haha transandrobros/dorks stupid/dumb/whiny' cos they haven't done the work for themselves to know what the arguments are outside of their reactionary, knee-jerk reaction of 'no man ever is oppressed'

#transandrophobia

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shariasweet · 2 months ago

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˚ ༘ ೀ⋆｡˚ 𝐁oo𝓚𝐦a𝓡ke𝓭

𝓦c ::: 3.k 𐙚 𝓢harinote ::: i've never written something so gross and honestly... I kind of love how extreme it feels (to me) 𐙚 warnin𝓰.ᐟ ::: super super gross, dirty, filthy... call it what you will · dubcon (??? he never asks but she goes along with it... still, there's that grey area! I'm sorrysorrysorry) · lots of degrading (enemies to ???) · jungwon is a bully :( · possessive (?) · voice kink · facial · orgasm denial · unprotected sex (wrap it up guys) · good girl... things like that · spit · f.ᐟreader

“do these stupid little pornos really get you off?” he scoffs. jungwon’s lips curl to form a twisted smirk… something in between disgust and amusement as he dangles the book in front of your face as though it’s something extremely filthy.

which, arguably, it is… but that’s beside the point.

your breath hitches—catching sharply in your throat. the room feels like it’s closing in on you… is it hot in here? “I…” you trail off, searching for an excuse. “i-it’s not a porno…” you mutter beneath your breath, voice barely audible. mentally, you facepalm… some excuse that was.

your eyes remain trained on the office's scuffed floor—the cracked door behind him… truthfully, anywhere but him… you’re 99% sure jungwon still had that smug expression painted across his face.

he snorts.

it’s a short, humorless laugh. “you know, reading your porn doesn’t make it any less raunchy. if anything, it just makes you look even more pathetic.”

…

yang jungwon… student council president—your number one critic since highschool… maybe even before then. you’re sure somewhere stored in your head is a memory of him pushing you off of a swing in grade school.

if you told anyone on campus about the things he’s said to you—what he’s done to you—they’d probably laugh in your face.

to them, jungwon is their perfect golden boy:

star student, co-captain of the soccer team, the ‘super cute volunteer’ who spends his weekends cleaning up after abandoned puppies at the animal shelter… the blonde guy who smiles oh so sweetly at the ladies in the canteen… always making it a point to say please and thank you.

they’d never believe that he has you cornered—backed up against the old, dusty filing cabinets of your forgotten office hidden behind the shelves of your university’s library where you worked.

it’s sort of ironic—working here was supposed to be your break from his torment.

jungwon himself never came here… he was too important, too busy.

he was always sending his secretary or vp for any sort of books and, or copies needed by the student-council.

however, it seemed as though you’d gotten too comfortable… forgetting that everywhere was jungwon’s turf—meaning not even your safe haven of the campus library was any exception.

the day was supposed to be quiet.

there were no weekend-classes, no school events, study groups, or sports-meetings… the rain had run most students off campus… burrowing in the cozy environment of their apartments and dorms. you were supposed to have this place to yourself… to breathe, to disappear for a little while in the pages of the smutty romance novel you’d shoved into your tote this morning before heading out.

who’d seriously come to the library in all this rain… on a weekend at that?

he would, of course.

jungwon, like usual, is good at ruining things… particularly things involving your happiness or peace of mind. he’s made a hobby out of it—especially when it comes to you.

one second, you were nose-deep in a particularly dirty scene of your book—the next, his shadow was looming over you, voice laced with some sort of sick amusement.

“what’s this?”

and by the time you looked up, it was too late.

he’d already pried the book from your hands. “give it back,” you snapped.

you shot up, scrambling to take the book back, completely ignoring the flush coloring your cheeks… but his arms were longer—he was faster.

jungwon was more than satisfied, with every page he flipped through the sly grin on his face only grew wider and wider. you’d never live this down… this couldn’t get any worse.

Is what you thought… before he started reading.

aloud.

“his eyes were clouded with something much darker than lust as he kissed her hard… his hands hurriedly unbuttoning her blouse as she melted into his touch.’” he grinned wide, eyes darting to meet your own as your stomach sank.

you stopped jumping, reaching for the copy… what was the use when you’d already been caught?

“wow, y/n… this is nasty. even for you.” jungwon’s tongue flicked out, swiping across his bottom lip.

you can feel the walls closing in, heat flooding your cheeks, embarrassment pounding in your chest against your ribcage.

“don’t tell me… do these get you off?” he leans closer, walking towards you as his voice drops incredibly low—the space between you was nearly non-existent now. “are you wet?”

“w-what? you… you can’t be serious, jungwon.”

he asks you as if it means nothing, like it’s the most casual thing to ask in the world... though to him, it was safe to assume that it didn’t.

“c’mon, y/n.” he was coaxing, almost… definitely mocking.

he was even closer now—you could feel the heat of his body radiating on to your skin as his hand slipped onto the small of your back, his fingers splayed wide as he pressed his chest against your own.

you barely had time to gasp before you hit the edge of the desk, papers crinkling beneath you as you tripped, falling back.

“how long have we known each other now?”

he threw the book carelessly onto the floor—the same one he’d humiliated you over—was left on the ground, pages churning aimlessly as it landed on its cover.

“f-forever?” you stammered, recalling your childhood with the boy… he was pushy as ever. your lip trembled as you chewed it raw.

“that’s right.”

his tone was sharp—any hint of playfulness or amusement was long gone.

jungwon’s other hand caught your jaw in a bruising grip, forcing your face up to meet his… thumb brushing gently against your bottom lip, ripping it from beneath your teeth, feeling how shaky your breath had become under his touch.

“Is this serious enough for you..? i’m so fucking serious.”

his knee wedged it’s way between your thighs, grinding against your clothed cunt.. firm and demanding…

and your body, your body was a traitorous thing—a small whimper came bubbling past your lips before you could even help it. your hips bucked forward, chasing the delicious friction of his jeans against your crotch.

“show me,” he murmured, lips inches away from brushing yours. “you are, aren’t you?”

you were. “I mean you’re shaking… chasing to hump my knee like a fucking’ slut, angel.”

you were soaked—sinfully wet. jungwon was right.

you were… unbelievably wet—arousal pooled into the fabric of your panties, the cotton sticking uncomfortably to your slick-glazed folds. an aching heat radiated from between your legs, shame sinking in your gut as you dared to look up to meet him once more… slowly nodding your head.

“what’s that?” he teased. “use your words.”

your throat tightened.

you could feel it—every humiliating bit of it… the mess you’d made of yourself… wet, warm, sticky, slick to the point of no return at his demeaning words.

and from the smug grin curling against your cheek, jungwon knew it too.

“I’m…” you hesitated.

“your?” he let his finger trace along your jaw—softly, a cruel contrast to how rough he’d been moments prior. he was waiting… dragging it out.

“I’m wet.” you forced the words to roll off of your tongue and his eyes lit up. “oh, i know that much.” he laughed, pulling away from you as his eyes darkened. “I said show me.” he said, voice thick and dripping with entertainment at your pliable state.

he leans back, against the office door—not far from the desk, but a reasonable distance, his eyes never leaving yours.

“well?” he drawls, the space between you thick with heat and a pressuring tension. “don’t make me ask again.” he stands up, walking towards you until he's right back in front of you—knee presuming it’s original spot against your pussy, pressing harder, grinding into you like aother silent demand.

your hands tremble as they drift down, fingers softly curling around the hem of your skirt. his eyes narrow, not buying it… whatever it may be. “don’t act shy now. it’s a little late for that, isn’t it?” he’s right… so you do it—slowly, shamefully, you hike the fabric up inch by inch until your skirt sits bunched over your hips… your ruined panties are fully on display for the man before you.

his breath catches, just slightly as he keeps his unfazed composure.

“look at you,” he murmurs, more to himself than to you. “fuck. you’re dripping through them.” you could hardly speak, let alone even look away. “happy now?” you whisper harshly, voice still slightly shaking. his hand returns to your face, fingers cradling your chin almost tenderly. “no,” he says simply. “not yet. but we’re getting there.”

“i should’ve known,” he speaks up again. “you’ve probably been soaking through your panties all semester… and i bet no one else even noticed.”

he leans in, mouth brushing your ear as his teeth nip at your earlobe.

“but i did… you were just ‘gonna sit in here all alone, reading your filthy little book, getting off like some desperate pervert while you’re on the clock?”

you nod… just barely, still embarrassed and flushed with heat. “filthy..” he scoffs.

you collapse forward, body trembling, chest pressed to his as your knees threaten to fall with you. but jungwon doesn’t let you—not completely.

he holds you steady with one arm around your waist, the other slipping lower… fingers dragging lazily through the mess between your thighs. his hand absentmindedly plays with the hem of your panties, fingers tracing the outline of your clit before scrunching the fabric aside.

then—without any warning—two of his fingers dip inside.

you cry out, voice breaking weakly as you call out his name. “j-jungwon!”

your arms immediately clasp around his shoulders, clutching onto him for balance, for something, support—anything to anchor yourself with. your breath hitches, eyes fluttering shut as you gasp, hips stuttering against his hand.

he hums, low and pleased with his fingers curling inside you, just once… just enough to make you jolt.

“louder,” he says. “say my name again, angel.”

you do. even if you hate him, you can’t help it. “jungwon—!” you cry.

he clicks his tongue… condescending as always.

“mm, still not good enough…” he withdraws his fingers just slightly, dragging them along your gummy walls until only the tips of his fingers remain. “you like getting finger-fucked, don’t you?” he murmurs. “but i bet you like being told to be a good little whore even more… just like in your little porno book.” he pushes his fingers back into you halfheartedly. “go on, angel… moan like this is all it takes to get you off… so easy aren't you?”

your skin burns and your throat tightens for what feels like the umpteenth time this evening. he leans back just enough to reach behind you—grabbing the book he’d thrown to the floor just minutes ago.

“since you’re so into words…” he flips it open, scanning until he finds the passage that started all of this earlier. “here.”

he hands it to you, one hand still between your thighs, his fingers completely slipping back inside of you with a slow, wet push.

“read it.”

you freeze.

he tuts softly, teasing your clit with the pad of his thumb as he picks up his pace… fingers plunging into you with a scissoring motion.

“go on,” he says. “you wanted to get off to it, right? let’s see how it sounds when you say it out loud.”

your fingers shake as you hold the book, eyes blurring as you search for the line—the one he read earlier.

“his… his eyes were clouded with something darker than lust,” you begin, voice trembling. “as he kissed her hard… his hands unbuttoning her blouse—”

his fingers curl.

you choke on your words, moaning into the crook of his neck.

“keep going,” jungwon breathes, his voice hot against your ear, egging you on. “i’ll stop if you don’t.”

“she… she melted into his touch,” you push it out, jaw clenched as your hips roll into his palm. “he—he—”

you can’t finish. you just, can’t.

not when he’s fucking his fingers into you, so deep and precise, curling them just right. the slender girth of his middle and ring finger is just too brain-numbing.

not when your body is betraying you entirely—not when you’re squirming, dripping, and unraveling around him.

“look at you,” he murmurs. “can’t even read your own dirty book without creaming all over my fingers.”

you can barely even hold the book anymore.

“keep reading,” jungwon murmurs, teeth grazing your ear.

you try.

you try so, so, so hard—eyes skimming the page, lips parting, but the words blur and they melt into nothing.

“i—I can’t—” you whisper, your voice is horace and raw.

he pulls his fingers out without a second thought.

your mewl is sharp, pained… it’s damn near a sob choked out from between your teeth as you instinctively roll your hips forward, chasing your high via his fingers.

“that’s not what i asked for,” he says calmly. “try again.”

your head drops against his shoulder. your pride is splintering, dignity dissolving with every second he leaves you empty.

“please,” you whisper. “please what?” his sticky thumb drags along your inner thigh, just barely brushing the edge of your soaked, stretched panties.

it’s cruel. it’s calculated. you bite your lip. hard… swallowing any of your remaining pride.

“please let me cum.”

“mm,” he hums, pretending to consider it. “and what do you think you’ve done to deserve that?”

your throat bobs, trying to swallow the lump forming. you can’t answer.

you don’t deserve it—not with the way he’s playing this, not when you can’t even do the one thing he told you to.

“start from the top of the paragraph,” he instructs, fingers hovering just over your pussy again. “and if you stop this time… i won’t touch you or your desperate little cunt for the rest of the evening, yeah?”

you shiver.

your eyes find the words, though they smear behind the haze of lust clouding your vision.

“his eyes… were clouded with something darker than lust,” you begin, voice cracking. “as he kissed her hard… h-his hands unbuttoning—”

he pushes his fingers back in, all at once. three this time. and it makes for a delicious stretch.

you choke, moaning into the page. you grip the book so tightly that the spine creaks.

“don’t stop,” he growls. “you want to cum? earn it.”

you force yourself to keep reading—stumbling over every word, moaning and gasping through the lines, body twitching as his fingers fuck you slow and deep. your slick squelches around his fingers, cream lathering around the dexterous muscles with every thrust of his fingers.

“she melted into his touch,” you gasp, blinking tears from your lashes. “n-needed him like— like she needed air—”

“like you need me,” he corrects, thumb circling your clit again.

you cry out.

your legs start to shake. your stomach tightens, your pleasure rises fast, the waves of an orgasm threatening to crash.

you’re so close it hurts — everything inside you begging to let go.

but he stops.

again.

“n-no!” your voice cracks, a guttural whine ripped from somewhere deep within your chest. “jungwon, please—!”

“then beg,” he demands, his tone is flat and merciless.

“for real this time. i want to hear just how filthy you can get… i’ll even help you.”

his fingers slip out of you, leaving you aching, empty. he takes not of the adorable pout plastered on your face, glazed over eyes and bruised lips.

without another word, he fiddles with his belt, yanking his jeans and boxers down just enough for his cock to spring free.

he places his hand in front of your face, his eyes burning holes into your own.

“spit.”

you hesitate for a heartbeat, then obeying—a thick glob of saliva landing in his palm. he takes it without hesitation, dragging his hand down the length of his shaft.

your mouth waters at the sight, drool gathering at the corners of your lips, your throat suddenly dry.

“stop ogling and read,” he deadpans.

his free hand grabs your face, squishing your cheeks together teasingly with an unforgiving strength.

you flinch but comply, your eyes treading the page, stuttering as you pick up where you left off.

“o-okay…” you whimper, trying to steady yourself. “t-tell me you want me…” you stutter, the words falling out of you with unsteady breath.

and before you can finish, jungwon thrusts into you without warning, the sudden invasion knocking he air out of your lungs. “h-he says—”

“ah! fuck…” you gasp as he shoves himself all the way in, his hands tightening their grip on you.

“keep. fucking. reading,” he orders, each word punctuated with a brutal thrust, hard and fast into your sopping cunt. “now.”

tears prick your eyes as you push through… the overwhelming waves of pleasure, your ruined orgasms clouding your thoughts, drowning you as jungwon pounds into you relentlessly.

his hips snap against yours, each careless thrust sending sparks through your body, his cock sinking deeper and deeper with each punishing thrust.

he bites down on your neck, sucking at the tender skin, marking you as his. “tell m-me…” he groans, voice rough and needy, pushing you further, “tell me how badly you want it...” you choke out the last line. “he brings h-her hand t-to cup his…ohmygod!”

“shit, jungwon, please!” you sob, your chest tightening as it rises up and down… overwhelmed with desperation… the tears finally break free, streaming down your face, streaking your flushed cheeks as you beg him for release.

you can feel him everywhere—deep inside you, his cock pressing relentlessly up into your g-spot, each thrust sends a wave of tender pain and pleasure through you. the bulge of his cock digs into your stomach, and every time he drills in, the tip of his cock kisses your cervix, slamming into it with hard force.

“fuck,” he swears, pulling away from the nape of your neck, only to catch sight of the wrecked expression on your face—eyes glassy, lips parted, flushed and trembling beneath him… something he could get used to. “y-you’re lucky you’re so damn…” he groans, breath hitching as he feels your cunt clench tight around him.

“agh—fuck.” he shudders, hips stuttering for a moment as his orgasm looms closer. “that’s it… you’re close already?” he laughs, breathless, even as he keeps driving into you without missing a beat.

you sob into his shoulder, voice cracking. “close…”

the knot in your stomach coils impossibly tight, tension burning through your entire body.

every thrust sends you spiraling closer, the pressure is unbearable and your eyes roll into the back of your head.

“oh my god—fuck!” you yelp, voice breaking as your orgasm collides into you, thighs shaking violently as you clamp around him.

jungwon grins—proud, far more than satisfied as he lets you ride out his high. somehow managing to hold himself back, fucking you through said high without letting go of his own.

“on your knees.”

you try to move, limbs trembling, breath still caught in your throat. you stagger, legs giving out beneath yo —dropping in front of him, dazed, as he stands tall above you, fist pumping around his shaft.

“fuck… keep looking at me. just like that,” he growls, his voice thick and cracked as he jerks himself standing over you.

then with a single strained moan, he cums—thick ropes of milky-white semen painting your face. it drips down your cheeks, your lips, your chin… warm and messy and impossible to ignore (much like before).

you can feel yourself leaking all over again at the feeling. thighs sticky, arousal flooding your spent cunt at the feeling of his release splattered across your skin, his angry-red tip twitching as he smears the last of it over your cheek.

you barely manage to blink the haze from your eyes before he’s kneeling too—hands gently cradling your face as he leans in and licks at your lips, tasting himself and kissing you deep. your tongues swirl around each other, the taste of salty cum infused against your tongues.

you melt into it, mouths molded against each other’s flesh, the taste of him lingering.

after a long, dizzying moment that feels like forever, he pulls away with a soft chuckle.

“you’re insane.”

your reply comes out rough, almost hoarse. “you’re one to talk.”

you’re still catching your breath, lips swollen from the kiss, cum cooling on your cheeks, when jungwon finally leans back on his heels and surveys the mess he’s made of you with a lazy, smug grin… wiping your face with an old rag he’d found.

“so,” he says, brushing his thumb along your jaw like it’s the most natural thing in the world, “do those stupid little pornos really get you off?”

you blink at him, shocked. “they’re novels, asshole.”

he laughs—full-on, that boyish lilt breaking through. “right, right. real literature, i’m sure… forgive me.” he plucks the abandoned book from the floor, flips it open to a crumpled page, and clears his throat with exaggerated drama.

“‘his eyes were clouded with something much darker than lust…’” he reads aloud in a mocking tone, eyes flicking to yours, playful and dangerous all at once.

you groan, hiding your face in your hands, but he just laughs again and leans in to nuzzle against your temple.

“no need to be shy,” he murmurs. “next time, just ask me to… and we can act it out.”

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