#self-insert characters

[tiamatwrites]

Daddy's Little Monsters

A/N: This one is winding up to be Long, so this is probably the best to start with. Sidenote: You're gonna figure out really quickly where our blog name came from with this one, so enjoy that. TW: Swearing included, non-graphic alcohol consumption and violence towards the end, proceed as needed. Just as a heads up: this one is one of the ones that could get dark later on. It's not likely, but there is a chance. We'll do our best to keep on top of warnings for each part.

Edits made 28/11/2024 - Revising story flow and continuity. (Someone forgot the layout of the house (Me, I forgot) - P)

Part 1 - 2138 words

Evelyn’s pov

The car is fucking loud. Somehow, I notice it better in the daytime, when I’m driving at speed for eight hours with my sister bitching in the passenger seat. I adore my car, I do, but Doc is not subtle. Normally that works in my favour, but today? After almost eight hours of highways and freeways and other cars? It’s irking me.  Admittedly, everything is irking me at the moment. Everything from the curls that have come loose and sit around my eyes when I check my mirror to merge, to the brightness of the sky overhead, to the sound of Fiore continuing to have an issue with the upholstery on Doc's seats. 

“So have you figured out where I’m gonna drop you off yet?” I ask, cutting through the new round of complaints about the comfort of the leather seats. As though I had the time to put the seat covers on this morning when she was snarling and spitting and hissing like a feral cat. She pauses in the tirade to glance down at her unlocked phone, Carmine eyes scanning over messages between her and one of Whitebeard’s people, filling her in on the half a dozen fights set for tonight in our desired city. 

She twirls a piece of hair around her finger as if she hadn't just been threatening to skin my car. It’s bright orange as if it’d been dyed with the morning sun, and the dark brown closer to the roots looked like it was growing out, but she’d always been able to turn heads. “I’m thinking the one out in the dockyards. You know, with the warehouses?” Ignoring the almost white golden fox ears sprouting from her head and the nine tails to accompany them. “I remember.” I nod. Of course I did; one of the first fights she’d attended, though just as a spectator, was at those docks. Gramps always spent a decent chunk on gambles when they were hosted there, and Dad had still been trying to get him to quit it when we’d left. “Tell me which warehouse I’m dropping you off at so I’m ignorant. And don’t get caught.” “I’m not an idiot, Slut bag.” “I know, but it bears reminding.” I mutter. “You know as well as I do that it’s one of the favourites.” She rolls her eyes, folds her arms and turns away from me, “Whatever.”

I have never felt more like our father. “Fi, the warehouse?” “Seventeen,” She snaps, sharp teeth bared in mock warning. The drive is quiet from then on, at least for a while.

•°•°•❈•°•°•

We make it into the city, and more importantly to the warehouse, before the sun is fully down. Fiore grabs her go-bag that has all the shit she needs and climbs out silently. Before she can slam the door shut, I grab it and look out at her. She has her tails on display, a writhing mess of fluffy white-silver-grey behind her, and her ears poke up from the loose hair that sits around her face. I know that she’s been picking at her claws for hours, but she won’t let them scratch up the car. “Hey. Kick their asses. Don’t end up in the morgue.” She grins, her teeth all sharp and dangerous, “Of course. Don’t tell me what to do.” I roll my eyes, “Sure Fi, go win some money or whatever.” The door is closed before I sit back up properly, and she is inside the warehouse, probably going to register for at least half a dozen fights, or one particularly brutal one, depending on how she feels.

I leave as soon as she’s out of sight. Longer than I’m meant to stay, but not long enough to attract too much attention.  It’s an easy enough task to navigate my way through the familiar streets, deeper into the city, and then back out the other side again, even in the falling darkness. The houses in the suburbs all almost look the same, the lawns still evenly cut, the bushes and trees all still perfectly manicured.  When I get to the one I am looking for, I’m struck by how familiar it is, how I could almost step out of my car and walk back in time to the days after my graduation. The rose bushes were starting to bud, and the flowers would probably come out soon, the trees had been trimmed and were also starting to flower.  The porch light is off, which means that my parents aren’t home yet, and I honestly can’t be bothered with waiting for them, so I park on the grass, before reaching back to grab my own go-bag, electing to leave mine and Fiore’s main bags for now, and make my way to the ivy trellis.

Climbing the trellis was something Fiore and I only tried once or twice in highschool before we worked out that it was easier to steal the keys and plan to get back once our parents were asleep. Tempting, but not today, I think to myself, looking at the apparently newly trimmed ivy. I push the gate open, walking past the pool and onto the back patio. Dad had decided the foolproof method of us being able to get in would be a key, through the dog door they’d installed for Fiore. She’d been so insulted at the time that she made a point of finding any other way to get into the house, hence the ivy, and accompanying trellis. I reach through the dog door and grab the key, then unlock the back door. I head straight upstairs, the dining room a familiar blur of reds and blacks in the low light. It’s lit by a fish tank, pretty much the size of the wall. I pause. The fish tank is new, filled with what appears to be piranhas. Awesome, Dad had managed to talk Pops into piranhas.  “... what did they do to the turtles?” I murmur, my brow furrowing. We’d had the turtles since we were young, and I’d be beyond annoyed if Dad and Pops had gotten rid of them in exchange for piranhas. I shake off the thought, their tank is upstairs. I turn, walking up said stairs. 

The lounge is the same as I remember, as if it’d been left untouched in our absence. That wouldn’t be all that surprising, actually, dad is just sentimental like that. The turtle tank is there, against the wall beside the stairs. I lean down, peering into it. There’s… one turtle. Mikey, based on the chip in his shell. Odd. I’d have to ask pops about it later, he’d promised to do the maintenance while we were gone. Then I'm onto my bedroom, swinging the door wide open and dropping onto the end of my bed like a lump of rocks. The sheets are clean, scented like something vaguely floral. The walls are still pale teal, the room is exactly as I'd left it. Minus the dust, and the books I'd left stacked beside the desk. Pops hated it. And he’d just have to get used to it again. I don’t bother to do much more than kick off my shoes and pull the blanket from the end of the bed over me as I roll over.

•°•°•❈•°•°•

Fiore’s pov

To nobody’s surprise, and especially not my own, the docks smell like shit. I beat my fist on the door until a bouncer answers– he smells like sugar. Donuts. Sharp eyes and purple hair. Odd, but not unexpected in these parts. Not odd enough to be a signature. “What's the password?” he sounds like he could be more bothered to be there, but isn’t. “Let me the fuck in, is the password.” 

He pauses, before slamming the slider for the hole in the door shut. I start to kick it, hard enough to dent, before he opens it again. “What’s the password?” he repeats, sounding vaguely more interested in my presence than before. “Ever heard of Tiamat?” I ask, stepping back and crossing my arms. The tails and ears may look for show, but they do the intimidation tactic well. The man raises a brow, “Haven't heard that name in a while. What’s got you down here?” I make no attempt to hide my growing impatience. “What do you think, dipshit? Let me in or I’m going to kick down this fucking door.” “Alright, alright… Miss Tiamat.” he closes the slider, before opening the door. Tall, didn't expect him to be that tall.

“Right, thank you,” I say, walking inside. Must be one of Big Mom’s boys. It makes sense, given that she runs most of these places. It’s dark inside, as they all are, dimly lit with warm yellow lights. The patronage is nothing to write home about– old men who get off on the violence and the betting, young men who want to prove themselves in the next fight and middle-aged women who want to pay for a rough night with the hottest fighters.

I turn back to the bouncer, “tell me, who’s the best fighter here tonight?” “The best fighter, Miss? Well, for the younger men–” “I’m not looking for a fuck, asshole,” I snap, “set me up against the best fighter you’ve got here tonight.” He pauses, an amused expression on his face. “Very well, Miss.”

I walk away, towards the ring that the patrons had circled around, the sound of flesh striking flesh echoing with the hollering of the crowd. I follow the sound, face schooled into its regular scowl. This wasn’t impressive, compared to the ones I'd seen in Whitebeard’s territory. Haruta had been fucking ridged about that shit, and there’d still managed to be full-to-the-brim venues every time. I slip past a pair of men, peering into the fight. A scrawny looking younger man, and a built-up man, probably in his thirties. Neither look as though they'd be the best of the night, though the older one looks worn, like he does this for a living.

It takes about half an hour until I'm called on– which I spend finding the bar. A bar at a warehouse? More likely than you’d think. I’m two drinks in before a tall, masked man approaches. Muscled, long blonde hair– I’m fighting this guy? “You’re Tiamat?” he asks. “Asked for the strongest fighter here? He’s ready.” Fucking finally. “Great. So it’s not you, then?” I remain leaning against the bar, chin propped up on my palm. “No ma’am. You’ll be against my boss. Eustass Kidd” I raise a brow. “Never heard of him.” “Must be new to the city, ma’am.”

He escorts me to the ring, offering no new information about his supposedly well known boss. If Dad never mentioned it, I'm sure this guy is just up his ass about himself. When I step into the ring, I see the opposition. A monolith of a man, with a– “I’m not fighting a fucking cripple.” “And I’m supposed to fight some mite-sized prissy cunt who’s too big for her damn britches?” I pause for a long moment. Before bursting out laughing. “Oh, I'm gonna kill you.”

•°•°•❈•°•°•

Third pov

The fight begins with a bang. Literally. Kidd hits the floor as Fiore tackles him, and he manages to grab her by the ankle, slamming her into the wooden floor. Once the two are up again, it’s blow after blow. A broken nose on Kidd’s end and a broken rib on Fiore’s. Both are grinning wildly, exchanging one vulgar insult for the other. “You look like your mother half swallowed.” “You look like you dance on poles for a living.” The crowd is laughing as if it’s a comedy show– and the middle-aged women look like they’re taking hits of secondhand embarrassment. Which is fucking hilarious, because Fiore’s pretty sure that was a compliment. Killer’s right up at the barricade, more curious than ever because he can see that his boss isn’t pulling his punches but is intentionally missing vital spots. He can see that Tiamat is doing the same– hitting spots that’ll bruise, visibly. God he wants to leave, this place is full of a vomiting amount of sexual tension.

Fiore manages to get her arms around Kidd from behind, knees in his back so he can’t get her off. He gets increasingly agitated the less he can breathe. So he taps out. 

He. 

Taps. 

Out. 

The crowd goes silent.

Fiore jumps off him, dusting her hands off as if touching the man had disgusted her. Kidd watches her with his usual scowl. “What’s your name?” he asks, rubbing his throat with his flesh hand. “Why do you care?” she responds, a smirk on her pink lips.  “You just kicked my ass, little girl.”

She simply gives him finger guns and walks away.

[outer-andromeda]

... I couldn't resist doing more self-insert stuff whoops

Edit : Can't believe I have to add this in but the human in the picture is NOT Stanford Pines from hit cartoon Gravity Falls. Gabby is a self insert, which means he's literally based off of me. READ THE TEXT AND THE TAGS. istg people 💀

[beepophobia]

Did a bit of an art style mimic challenge where I added myself into my favorite cartoons

[misserabella]

hey! i love your spencer reid fanfics!

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

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

let’s put it to the test

experienced! spencer x inexperienced! reader

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

@cafekitsune ‘s dividers!

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

[kimiko24-art]

I will explode u

[itty-bitty-sunshine]

Needed an excuse to draw sun in his natural habitat (unpaid babysitter).

[kimiko24]

girl help I can't escape I need them

[hauntedsweetsystem]

⋆.˚ ᡣ𐭩 .𖥔˚ Things to do with your f/o! (no drawing!)

♡Write a love letter themed around your f/o!

Pour your heart out! Decorate the page with stickers, doodles, or your favorite pens. Write about your feelings, confess your love, or pen a romantic poem. You can even keep it casual—just ask how their day is or tell them about yours. They'll love hearing from you!

♡Create a wall/journal collage!

Print out some photos/quotes of your f/o and create a collage for them. Include things that they love--like their favorite colors, hobbies, or symbols. Hang it on your wall or make it a journal spread!

♡Go on a IRL date!

You could go on a movie date, have a picnic with all of your f/o's favorite foods, or chat with them while going on a walk! Create a special moment just for them.

♡Make a character journal!

Imagine your F/O writing about their feelings for you! What would they say if they kept a diary? Write from their perspective and explore their inner thoughts. (Just make sure not to get caught snooping!)

♡Create notes that your f/o would write to you!

Write sweet messages from your f/o's perspective to leave around your home or room. They could remind you to take out the trash, cheer you on for the day, or simply say “I love you.” It’s a fun way to make their presence feel real!

(˶˃ ᵕ ˂˶) .ᐟ.ᐟ

[queenendless]

ARISE

A/n: As we are now in a new year, time to write on some new fandoms.

Rewatched S1 dubbed — and yes Aleks Le as Sung Jinwoo is the reason why cause he's so damn fine~! Listen to his voice as you read this, I insist! I just need to get my Sung Jinwoo fix. Therefore—

Pairing: Sung Jinwoo x F!Adult!Reader

CW: Explicit 21+ MATURE content inside. SOME SPOILERS but not much. Morning smut, implied mentions of suicide, reader got reincarnated as a humanoid magic beast and serves Jinwoo now.

DON'T PLAGARIZE, REPOST, OR TRANSLATE MY FANFIC WORK. Rather reblog like and follow pls n thx.

"Wakey wakey." That teasing low purr in the crook of your neck had you giggling tiredly as the ticklish sensation pulled you out of slumber. Spooning you from behind, his legs entangled with yours, Jinwoo breathes in your scent, sucking tenderly. Taking his enormous hand that rested on your hip into yours, just to play with his fingers, made him smile.

“Don't go.” You murmur, raising that hand to brush petal soft pecks to his knuckles.

"Come on, now. I gotta get ready." His slurred gruffness were telltale signs he was in no hurry.

"The world is your kingdom now, Jinwoo. It'll still be there tomorrow." Your reassurance meant you curled further into your side of the bed, the tendrils of slumber creeping back in. His deep chuckle trailed butterfly pecks from your cheek, down the pane of your neck, then up to your ear. "Stay here with me, please."

"Even the Shadow Monarch needs to lead his guild." His words were one thing. His wandering hands were another story. "But, if you rather keep me in bed all day, I suppose you could persuade me." His very presence chased away the bitter freezing loneliness you were accustomed to, submerging you in his comfortable burning embrace.

"God, you're something else." You turned in his grasp, finally able to face him and shower him with your smooches, such smitteness brought warmth blooming within him. Not to mention his bulge rubbing against your crotch sent sparks shooting through you both.

Flashes of memories surfaced in your mind. Such a whiplash it is that the most powerful hunter in this world that you personally witness slaughtering every beast and human that dares stand in his way, soaked in their blood, could be the very same man that held such requited smoldering endearment for you.

The butterflies and flips occurring inside from every gaze, touch and word given are always worth it.

"God has been long gone from this world ... just Rulers and Monarchs now ... and yours is beside himself. To think his favorite beast on the streets ... is a lamb in the sheets~" That rumbling deep voice roughly heaved in between kisses. Opening your mouth so willingly had him grinning against you as his velvety tongue entangled yours, lost in the thralls of the passionate dance within. “My favorite~”

His sculpted hands slithered underneath your top, lightly brushing up against your sides, then your tummy. One hand stayed to fondle your cushiony mounds; he never gets tired of feeling you up.

"A human from another world ... reborn as a humanoid magic beast." Pinching, pulling and rubbing your pearls between his long sly fingers had you melting as your muffled mewling grew frequent. “Failed by those closest to you, abandoned to that pain and fear … a kindred soul.”

His other sly hand slips under your undies, cupping your dripping sex. Your moaning had him smirking as he nibbled your bottom lip in tune with his thumb insistently rubbing your clit and the tips of his fingers brushing around your cunt. "Isn't this what you wanted? To be touched by me? Your beloved King?"

"Mmm yes~" His voice always got you going, especially when those four fingers filled you up well, curling and scissoring in their trek straight to your burning core. "Aaah~" Your hips rutting into his hand got him bricked up through his sweatpants. "Nngh~" Wringing your hands through those dark messy locks and stroking along his shaved undercut got him trembling, all to reel him in and keep you as grounded as you could currently be in your haze filled state. "Don't stop~"

"So touch starved." Your sharp gasp was the sign he reached your bundle of nerves, prodding it with such vigor, stuffing you right up to his wrist, lathered up in your cream. “To let me be the first and only one to shower you with such devotion ... I'll forever be grateful for that blessing." Tears of ecstasy leave your e/c eyes and he kisses them away, his ebony bangs tickling your moaning burning face, the flames of passion stoked for you as you come undone. "My Queen~"

His creamy hand then pulled right out of your valley, leaving you desperately wanting him to fill up your emptiness. Your faith got restored, however, as he pulled his shirt over his head, tossing it aside, revealing the chiseled marble sculpture that is his physique.

He knows the sight alone makes your mouth water. Your hands traversed the panes of his soft firm pecs, that thick neck, those broad shoulders, even these sculpted biceps that flexed as his daily tasked push ups came with the added benefit of pushing down to your laying form, being enthralled by your rewarding kisses. Such reliable stability beneath that lean stature of resilience.

Your own eyes burned with the glow of enchantment, the image of who he used to be versus who he has become reminded you of yourself. How the physical and mental scars that plagued your old life for years on end shaped you into who you have become. A magic beast serving the Shadow Monarch. What a pairing.

His cream coated hand slips under his own waistband, pulling his beast free from its confines, using your cum as his lube to be more prepared.

His other hand cupped under your knee, draping your leg over his shoulder. "Wouldn't you rather I give you tongue~?" That low toned growl already got your other leg willingly draped over his other broad shoulder already as that mouth sunk into your wet folds.

“Yes love~!” Ripping such a concupiscent symphony outta your mouth. His other hand couldn't help but jack off to your venereal cries. The scorching presence his mouth gave as the starvation had him ravaging, suckling as much as making out with your now squirting folds.

His cheeks filled with your essence, dexterously aiming his tongue to drive you further up the tower of sins. Your spasming hips only buried his face deeper in, inhaling your scent as his nose got pushed in your pubes, his light yet sturdy weight. Those lidded silver eyes flashed violet as their predatory gaze marveled in your sweaty flushed expressions due to his ravenous gorging, your voice shrieking as you unloaded, his creamy covered lips curling swallowing gratefully.

“You're truly decadent.”

Your body and soul trembled in anticipation for what's to come; your legs falling off his shoulders to hug his firm hips. So did him, leading his dick slowly into your loosened yet smothering grip. "Let me make love to you." He grunted, you sucking him up as greedily as his cock started into the slow steady rhythm stroking your creamy grip.

“Fuck me! Please~! Don't stop~! Don't ever stop!” Your unhinged shouts of passion hit his ear as you hugged his neck, his own hot breath hitting your shoulder as he picked up the lace into the feverish fueled tapping; skin squelching and smacking noises bouncing off the walls.

“Fuck~! You’re heaven incarnate~!” Your sob filled yell riled up his necessity to bust his nuts in you even more. His feral groans in response had you squeezing him in a vice state, marking the side of his neck into a bruising suck, drawing scratches along his chiseled shoulder blades.

His own fingers dug into your rolling hips, finger shaped bruises painting your skin in kind, while his sharp teeth marked along your shoulder and neck, marking you as his and his alone, raising you further to the apex.

“I’ll fuck you until the world ends. This needy pussy deserves to be ravaged every waking moment. Every inch of you is mine to worship. Your beautiful womb filled up with my seed. That's my dream. To have you as my wife. To raise a family together. To make you Mrs. Sung!”

“Yes, Jin~! Yes~!” Your choked up agreement got lost in the sloppy, tongue filled kisses as you came a third in a row, making a cum circle around his shaft, painting his rippling thighs and the once pure sheets.

Your orgasmic greeting met with his, shooting right into your womb quite thickly, lifting you in his shredded grasp, externally and internally. Thrusting his still oozing libido into your heavenly valley like a madman to chase that euphoric high.

Your head limply rested on his shoulder like a pillow, fatigued mewls spilling out as the burning weight of his essence settled into your abdomen. Carefully setting you down on the bed, Jinwoo collapsed on his side, heaving slowly and deeply, his dazed eyes gazing at yours, glowing radiantly as the sunlight slipping in outlined your form.

Still submerged in you, now limp dicked, his muscular arm draped over you, pulling you both closer, all to have you curling into his slickened torso, breathing in your intermingled scent.

“Now call in sick.” Your weak request got him chuckling deeply.

“I will in a bit.” Curling your cascading hair through his fingertips, he caressed your pretty head, allowing the tranquil silence to linger.

“I love you, Y/n. So damn much. Thank you for being in my life, in this moment, and for the rest of our reign to come.” His whole being enveloped you in his bear hug of an embrace, drawing in your shared taste through an endearing kiss.

“I love you too, Jin. So damn much.” Your voice fluttered from the swelling of emotion taking hold on your heart, as you couldn't help but fall into the routine of peppering smooches all over that beautifully precious face of his.

“I'll love you. In this life and the next. Until the end of it all.” He vowed to you as you succumbed to sleep once again, smiling softly at your face, kissing your sweet lips once more before reaching out behind him for his phone, sending a quick text to Yoo Jinho about his impromptu work absence. His brother in arms was A-okay about, already suspecting fooling around with you being the reason why.

Jinwoo's next text was him dubbing Jinho as his best man at your upcoming wedding, already looking forward to seeing you on that sacred day, followed up by quite the steamy honeymoon.

He was already anticipating your future together, basking in the early morning, setting his phone aside as it filled with the following texts of congrats and excitement from his little bro, before joining you in the confines of dreams, cocooned in your shared comfy warmth, watched on by his shadow army in the corner, silently cheering for their master’s engagement with their future Queen Regnant.

[yumesoul]

Imagine your f/o reaching out for you instinctively when they have a nightmare, calming down the second they feel your warmth nearby !

[tiamatwrites]

Daddy's Little Monsters

A/N: And we're back. Finally. Okay, so, keep in mind when reading this, we had to go back and edit Evelyn's section in part one because one of us (Hi, guilty, that was my fault- P) forgot how the house was laid out. TW: There are guns being handled, but none are fired. There are brief jokes about drugs and sex-work, but again, nothing actually happens regarding them. One character is implied to be caught either just before having sex, or in the middle of it, but nothing graphic is going on. There is also a dream sequence that is violent and has a lot of blood and death involved, but it's not particularly graphic.

Part 1

Part 2 - 3136

Third pov

It’s late when the pair finally arrive at their home, both tired and slightly more messy than their date nights usually called for. Unfortunately, someone had fucked up, and the red haired man had needed to get involved personally when it became clear that his coworkers weren’t going to be able to handle things themselves. While it wasn’t the first time, they generally tried to avoid mixing business and their personal lives these days, simply because it rarely ended well. “Mihawk, Love–” The redhead starts after he’s at least in the driveway. “Shanks, if you apologise again, you will find yourself sleeping not only on a couch, but downstairs.” The voice of his husband is stern, and his eyes pin him in place. Shanks knows well enough that Mihawk is dead serious with that threat.  “Alright, sorry,” He placates gently, raising his hand in surrender, “Guilty conscience and all that.” Mihawk hums, eyes already focusing on something out the window, “I’m sure. Now can we take your guilty conscience inside, so that my tired one can sleep?” Shanks huffs a laugh, more a chuckle for how quiet it was, “Yeah, Love, come on.”

Shanks gets out of the hearse first, moving towards Mihawk’s side of the car and opening the door. The switch between holding the door with his hand and holding it with his hip so he can offer the hand to Mihawk is smoother than it used to be, when the injury was newer and everything was more difficult between them.  Mihawk rolls his eyes, but takes the offered hand and stands, allowing Shanks to wind his arm over his hips, and pull him closer to plant a kiss on his cheek. The door is kicked closed and he knows the car will lock as they walk away from it, so he lets it go and moves to walk away, only to feel Mihawk stiffen as he does his subtle perimeter check around the front yard. Shanks looks at him, follows the line of sight, and finds himself faced with the same car his husband is currently staring down.

It was one Shanks had owned when he was younger, one he’d given to the younger of their girls, who shouldn’t be here, wasn’t supposed to be here, why on earth was her car– “Mihawk, did the girls message you about visiting?” “No, they did not.” The darker haired man says, hands already going towards the gun that he kept in the holster below where Shank’s hand was. Shanks himself lets go of Mihawk so he can flick his jacket open to grab the pistol from his own holster that was usually only for emergencies. “Fuck.” The redhead muttered. The smile he was given in exchange was grimmer than most. “That does seem to be the word of the day.”

They go in quietly, clearing rooms with the same sort of efficiency as was usually only seen in marine operations. They don’t talk about what they are expecting to find. They don’t talk about what they hope– pray– they don’t find. Entry way, formal entertainment, kitchen, formal dining room, downstairs bathroom, cinema room, stairs.  Lounge, bathroom, Fiore’s room and ensuite– It is Evelyn’s room where they find the person who had left the car on their drive. It was, thank god, the actual owner, rather than someone who’d decided to send some sort of fucked up theatrical message about the systematic elimination of a yonko-level crime family. Unfortunately, that does mean that they do enter their daughter’s room with guns aimed at her.

Evelyn starts awake when her door hits the wall and god only knows how she hadn’t woken up before that, but her eyes are open and she doesn’t move until both of her parents’ guns are lowered and the safety on both is back on. “What the fuck?!” She demands loudly as she sits up and then stands, and both of them flinch back at the pitch, “What the hell happened to hello and how are you? Or even we missed you?!” “You weren’t supposed to be here!” Shanks insists, aborting a motion to splay his arm out when he remembers the gun in his hand. He tucks it away in the holster quickly after that. “And that excuses the guns?!” She demands, her eyebrows slowly moving towards her hairline as she gets more upset. Mihawk takes over then, having already returned his gun to its holster, tired and still stern as he was in the car with Shanks, “Evelyn Nadia Silvers-Dracule. You did not call us, nor did you send a message. We assumed we would find something far worse than you asleep in your room when we found your car in the driveway. A reasonable assumption given–” “Alright, fine! I still didn’t think you were gonna come in with guns pointed every which way.” Both men give her looks of doubt at that, and she rolls her eyes and folds her arms as though she is still a petulant child rather than a woman mostly grown, “Fine. I didn’t even consider sending a message. I was tired.” 

Shanks sighs, always the easier to placate in these situations, and rubs his palm over his face. “It’s okay, Peanut.” Evelyn rakes a hand through part of her hair in a gesture that is absolutely learned from the red head. “I missed you guys too.” Mihawk sighs, and steps forward to pull his daughter into a hug and plant a kiss on her head the same way he had when she was a child. “We did not mean to scare you, Evelyn. Go back to sleep.” Her muttered response is muffled, but definitely an affirmative, and Shanks only gets the chance to kiss her temple once Mihawk releases her before she is shuffling back to her bed and crawling under the covers properly. The pair take it as the dismissal it is, and they turn to go to their own room, each aiming for at least a damp washcloth to clean up before falling into bed themselves.

•°•°•❈•°•°•

Becky pov

I had lived in utter bliss, for three years. Or, if not bliss, then at least peace. It is 9:12pm, and I'm about to go to bed with my wife. Alone. Together. For the first time in weeks. And then my phone rings with a sickening, disgusting pop song. The one that Fiore had set when she was little and used to ring my phone intentionally just to hear my groans of utter contempt. (I’m a Barbie girl, in a Barbie world)

The force of my hand hitting my phone on the side table should shatter the screen, but it doesn’t. Honestly, probably a good thing. Makino starts snickering from underneath me as I pick up the call, cursing as if it was my mother-in-law.  “Fiore, what a pleasure to hear from you. After three years. At a quarter past nine in the evening.” I say, trying to get across how much I do not want to be dealing with this right now even with an overly-sweet tone. “Benny Becky!!” she squeals into the microphone, and I physically flinch away from it, and have to mind that I don’t smack Makino in the nose with the phone as I move it away, “so, do me a favour–” “Pause.” I cut her off quickly, bringing the phone back to my ear as I move off of Makino and onto my side, “How drunk and-slash-or high are you?”

“... fuck you, Becky.” She pouts. And I can almost see the pout, honestly. She’s done the same thing every time I’ve had to ask her that since she was first starting to be involved with parties that risked drugs. “Answer the damn question.” I sigh, reaching out to tug at a lock of Makino’s hair as she was turning to settle in to read for a while. Both of us knew how this was going to play out. “I had three drinks, asshole! Maybe I’ll just call a fucking cab. Fucker.” “I am obligated to check. Fuck’s sake.” I snapped, pushing myself up and to the edge of the bed so I was sitting, “And no, you won’t, Mihawk’d skin me if I let you.” “Good. We could use a Becky rug.” Jesus H Christ. I hold back a sigh before I mutter just loud enough that I know she’ll hear, “Don’t ever let your uncle convince you that you are more like your dad. You are your father all the way through. Where are you?” “Was at the docks. Started walking about ten minutes ago. Got bored of walking.” “Fucking–” I turn to Makino, who is barely holding back her laughter now, “Kee, I have to go collect a wandering child–” “FUCK YOU, BENJAMIN.” “I will be back in an hour.” I continue with a forced calm, even if it is a lost cause because said young woman is loud. “I’M TWENTY TWO YEARS OLD, ASSHOLE. I AM LE-GAL.”

I roll my eyes as I make to start searching for my underwear and the pants I’d been wearing when I entered the room, “I attended your kindergarten, primary school and secondary school graduations. You are a child to me.” “I’m about to find a strip club and graduate into motherhood.” And now she just sounds petulant.  “If I have to pull you off a prostitute tonight, I am going to make sure both of your parents know exactly how and where I found you, and where you were before that.” “Good. They need some tips for the bedroom.” “... Just give me your fucking location, kid. Neither of us want to talk about your parents’ sex life.” Fiore hangs up at that, and as I'm begrudgingly putting my clothes on, the location message comes through. Thank fucking god. I didn’t want to have to deal with hunting a fox this evening.

I give Makino a kiss goodbye and leave, as quickly as possible, to get the mythical rat home. 

•°•°•❈•°•°•

Fiore’s pov

I’d made it four blocks before a car stopped anywhere near in my direction. It’s a well known fact that any person– any woman in this city that walks around with their devil fruit abilities on display, has the means to back themselves up. It’s a warning and a threat that I do use my devil fruit so freely.

I forget how much I hate Beckman’s car until it pulls up on the other side of the road, big and burly, not cute at all. I wait with my arms crossed, until he does a U-turn and pulls up beside me. He looks just as upset that I'm here as I do. “Get in the car.” “Nevermind, I'm walking home.” “Fiore Raelynn, get your ass in the car.” “Eat a rock, you old fuck.” “Kid, we are both tired, please, just get in the car so I can get you home.”

I let out what is a purposefully obnoxious groan. I’d figured out early during high school that it perfectly conveyed my point of being deeply annoyed with a situation. Then I climb into the passenger seat, pouting as if it would magically change his car into something more palatable than a land rover. Gag. 

We roll down the streets in relative silence, until he asks, “Why were you at the docks?” “I was buying hard drugs.” I respond flatly, my eyes on my nails. I might need to get them done properly at some point. The clippers and file are fine, but I’d like to have some fun with them. “... what?” I continue, keeping my expression stoic, “Yeah. Got coke in my pocket.” “WHAT.” Ow. Sensitive ears and sudden high noises are not a good mix. You would think people would have learned this by now. “Kidding, kidding, Jesus Christ. Take a fucking breather–” I grumble, pulling my ears down. “Child, when I ask you if you are high, I expect to get an update on any drugs you might obtain, what the fuck are you thinking, you–” He’s turned to face me and the hands are going and oh god, here comes the rant. I interrupt before he can get too much momentum going, “I was jOKing. Jesus. I don't even have any–” Wait. “Shit. I left my bag behind.” He stops the car in the middle of the road. “I’m going to eat lead.” “I didn’t know your wife was lead.” I tease, raising an eyebrow at him. The car continues moving. “Yes well, instead of–” He starts harshly before stopping and moving on, “Nope, no. Not finishing that sentence. Which side of the docks is your bag at?” “Beck, I was at the docks. It’s gone by now.” He really must be tired if he hadn’t put that together. He pauses for a moment, taking a breath before, “You’ll have stuff at Shanks’ house. Let’s go.” A few minutes of tense silence pass, and a moment of music before Beck slaps the goddamn radio off. His way of saying ‘you can live with the same amount of discomfort I’m feeling right now’ without actually saying it. Petty bitch.

Dimly lit industrial streets turn to city streets, then residential streets. Our house comes into view, grey bricks covered by far, far too many vines. You’d almost think this was originally Mihawk’s house, with how gothic it looks, but no. Pop’s hearse is in the driveway beside Evelyn’s car, and Beck pulls up behind them. “Get the hell out of my car.” “Okay, rude.” He glares at me, and the point is gotten. Get out of the car, or he’s going to start driving again, and he doesn’t care what I see. “Bye, Becky.” I tease, climbing out of the car. “Don’t start with that. You cock blocked me.” “Ew. I get enough of that from dad.” “Then don’t ask for a pickup on the first night off I’ve had in weeks.” I give him a short wave, turning to walk up the driveway to the door through the back yard. I give the dog door a quick nudge to make sure it’s unlocked, before shifting into my fox form. Business as usual.

The house smells the same as it had the last time I was here. Like dad and pops. And a hint of Evelyn and Grampie. I walk through the dining room and round the wall, heading up the stairs. I see Evelyn’s door open past the lounge, scenting the wood and citrus perfume she wears. Then, little paws pad up to dad and pop’s bedroom, their door open as well. Pops is reading– and the bathroom light is on. I shift back in a poof, which draws pop’s attention. There's a bruise on my calf, but other than that, I appear relatively unblemished by the fight. No more questions than necessary. “You’re home,” he says. “It's late. Where were you?” “Irrelevant,” I murmur, climbing onto the bed beside him. I don’t get too close, and neither does he. “I’m home.” He gives me a curious glance. “How did you get here? Evelyn’s been here a while.”

Dad steps out of the bathroom as I answer, dressed in only boxers. “Beckman dropped me off.” “You know we would have come to get you,” pops says. I shrug, dad coming to sit on my other side.  “It’s like you think I’d overreact about seeing you again or something.” “You would,” pops and I say at the same time. “Probably try to hug me or something.” I am given no warning, as dad does exactly that, scooping me into a one armed and yet still just as tight hug. “You’re right, I can't help myself.” I let out a loud, irritated groan– to which he starts shaking me around. I see pop’s eyes land on the already purplish bruise on my calf. “How did this happen?” “I… walked into a table.” Liar. The skeptical look I get once Dad stops shaking me like a ragdoll does not promise a clean getaway. “A table. You and your sister have purchased… a coffee table?” “No, it’s the table I was doing coke on– JOKING.”

“And that is the sound of bedtime for kiddies.” Dad says in that overly cheerful voice that means he's trying to avoid potential trouble. “Actually, I'm a dog.” “Fiore, Sweetheart, dog or not, you need to sleep. You’re explaining this in the morning, but for now, go to bed.” I let out another irritated groan. “Fine.” i slip out of dad’s grip, “goodnight.” “Night, Kit.” “Good night Fiore. Sleep well.”

•°•°•❈•°•°•

My hands are warm with blood, and it’s everywhere. Not just my hands, my arms, my face, my chest. My hands are numb from the guns, my ears are ringing. The walls are red– are white and then red again. It’s a marine base. The bodies are wearing uniforms, stained with blood.

Marine uniforms. Cadets, from the stripes on the shoulders. Not more than boys.

Their blood is on my hands. His hands. So warm when he holds us, so warm when he kills for us.

He– I– He blinks, and it’s a different room, more gory than the last. The guns are gone, and in their place is a knife. There’s a person, still screaming, then the knife is at their throat and then there’s nothing.

Thump.

Blink. Shanks– Dad– Shanks. Red in the face. Wild. Beautiful. Terrified. He’s as covered in blood as I am. He was there? Why was there there, he was supposed to be– Shit, what’s he saying–

“– could have died, Mihawk, and then what?! You are supposed to be better than this! And what about the girls–”

The girls. Fiore. Evelyn. Where are they, where–

Blink. The room of cadet bodies is back. And against the desk are two more bodies. Girls– Women– Girls. My girls, eyes wide and empty. Dead. Gone. Did I–

Blink. A Child. There’s a child, a girl, covered in blood– she’s small. Breakable. Gone. They are mine. where are they, wherearethey,wherearethey–

Mihawk stop.

•°•°•❈•°•°•

I wake up suddenly, head thudding, body sweating, mouth dry. The sun is coming over the horizon when I look towards the window, curtains I hadn't bothered to shut. I shake it off. My feet hit the cold floor as i climb out of my bed, aiming for pop. The door is still partially open, and I can hear them talking quietly. Evelyn’s still fast asleep. Good. I don't need anyone fussing over me, as I can tell pop is about to, when he opens the door. I see him, and he sees me.

“I’m fine,” I say quickly, my voice croaking.

He purses his lips, but nods in acceptance. “I am going to make something for breakfast. Would you like to join me?”

I look down for a moment, before nodding.

[antlergrave]

true pain is liking a background character with little to no fan content because nobody cares about them so now you have to do all the work yourself

officer Callahan from Stranger Things you will always be famous (to me)

[ochibrochi]

how embarrassing 🤨…

[girllblogging777]

LATE NIGHT LOGIC 𝜗𝜚

husband!spencer reid x reader (fluff)

↳ 𝑤𝑜𝑟𝑑 𝑐𝑜𝑢𝑛𝑡 : 2k

𝑠𝑢𝑚𝑚𝑎𝑟𝑦 : after a leg injury, spencer has to stay home. you try to keep him occupied with games and enigmas, but your husband just happens to be smarter than einstein

click. click. click. the soft and repetitive sound of the your fingers on the keyboard was beginning to make you drowsy.

you couldn’t tell how long you’d been writing, but based on the way the moonlight was streaming through the curtains of you and spencer’s living room, it had been a while.

you looked up, blinking twice and slowly emerging from that article you had been assigned to redact. a soft smile creeped up your face at the sight of your favourite brunette in front of you.

today marked a week since spencer had come home injured. a week since the last case. a week since he hadn’t been able to work. and as much as you incredibly adored having your husband around, he was getting restless.

right now, he was leaning against the kitchen counter, eyes narrowed as he focused on the jar he was holding like it was his personal nemesis. you didn’t have much time to question what exactly he was doing with it, before he met your gaze and spoke up.

“did you know that the average american eats approximately 8.5 lbs of pickles a year ?”

you chuckled. of course, your husband would break a comfortable silence between the two of you with this sort of information

“seriously, babe ?”

he shrugged, shifting his weight to his left leg and trying to disguise a wince.

“i just happened to be reading the ingredients of your oh-so-lovely jar of pickles and-“

“woah, you’ve definitely reached peak boredom. this has gotta stop, spence.“

he sighed, leaning down to look back at the damn pickle jar, before putting it down.

“i know, i know. but i can’t help it, i’m going crazy. i’ve done everything i could, reorganised all your books on the shelf and re-read every single article you wrote since you started working. i need to do something with my brain or else i’ll go crazy-“

you cut him off gently, speaking in an understanding tone. anyone would enjoy a week off work, but rest was not a word in spencer reid’s vocabulary.

“put the jar down, you. come here”

he didn’t think twice, obeying you like he always did. in a couple of long strides, although he was still limping a bit, he sat down next to you on the couch, hands fiddling with the sleeves of his striped pj shirt.

you reached for your stack of documents, frantically searching through them. you knew exactly what you were looking for.

“hey, what are you doing ?” he asked curiously, shoulders sagged as if he was disappointed not to be getting your attention

“there it is.”

he looked at the sheet you’d just handed him.

“huh, eistein ? really ?”

you nodded, a playful glint in your eyes “yeah, the zebra puzzle. they passed it around at work, it’s a pretty difficult thing. you should give it a try”

and obviously, he wasn’t listening anymore. brows creased, nose scrunched, he was already back in working mode within seconds as his eyes scanned the enigma.

you couldn’t take your eyes off of him for a moment, a soft smile on your lips. he just looked so handsome like this, when he was so focused that you could practically hear the gears turning in his brain.

“see, this should keep you occupied for a while” you spoke, leaning back against the couch and shifting your attention back to your laptop.

he didn’t bother answering, way too concentrated to even be able to look up from the paper. soon enough, the comfortable silence between the two of you was back.

click. click. click.

for a moment, he seemed to have forgotten all about his injured leg and impracticality to work. no more reading off random ingredient lists or wandering mindlessly around the apartment.

just you and your wonderful genius sitting on the couch, keeping yourselves busy with your respective tasks.

“just so you know,” you said, glancing at what he’d began scribbling on the sheet, “it’s really complicated”

“no, there’s a pattern… it’s actually pretty simple to find out once i get the-“

“the color of the house. the pet. the drink. the brand of cigarettes.” you enumerated while you kept writing, picking up on something he mumbled incoherently under his breath.

his lips were shaped in that signature upturned smile you dreamt of kissing away, and you kept going. “i mean basically, it’s gonna take you a good thirty minutes before-“

“done.”

you looked up, your brows raising. “what ?”

“i’m done. first to fifth house, left to right. this one owns the zebra”

you couldn’t help but freeze for a second, before pinching the bridge of your nose. “are you kidding me ? it took me an hour to figure it out !”

he shrugged, head tilting to the side as he answered like it was the easiest thing in the world. “well, i wouldn’t deserve the title of genius if i hadn’t been able to do it.”

“yeah… you definitely are a genius. fine. and here i thought this would keep you occupied for more than a minute”

spencer leaned in, brushing a wild strand of hair behind your ear in the most casual way possible. instantly, the rhythm of your pulse accelerated, and you could simply hum when he pressed a soft kiss to your cheek.

“thank you, though. for keeping up with me.”

you shook your head, reassuring him “it’s fine. should’ve known i wouldn’t be able to finish up that article before you’d drop another fun fact”

“oh, you love my knowledge about pickles.” he attempted in a flirty tone, but since it was spencer, it just sounded like he was actually expecting you to agree and ask more about it.

you simply giggled, nodding before he spoke up again “by the way, considering how many pickles i’ve seen you consume within the past week, you’re way above average”

yeah. it was definitely going to be something, having to keep your husband occupied for the rest of his sick leave.

and even though the constant rambling and attention he needed should annoy you, those brown eyes of his were enough for you to selfishly hope he’d stay around forever.

a/n : had to solve this enigma the other day and my first thought was “i bet spencer could do this within minutes”… anyways, hope y’all enjoy whatever this is !!

@gf2bellamy @iamgonnagetyouback @reidscherrylady @xervoxs @kaz-03

[misserabella]

could u pls write a fic/blurb of virgin spencer having fantasies of being dominant 🩷 btw live ur work!!!

my first orgasm goes to you! ♡

cw; +18 content, minors dni!!, watching of p0rn, bondage, dom and sub dynamics, spencer’s livid mind, imagining of spanking, male masturbation (spencer), dirty talking (he talks to himself while he thinks of you)…

okay… so spencer doesn’t know how he’s gotten into this situation.

he’s not one to… indulge in this kind of activities.

intelligence is correlated with sexual desire. most evidence indicates a negative correlation between intelligence and sexual activity. researchers find that higher intelligence is associated with a delay in the initiation of a wide range of partnered sexual activities, from holding hands to sexual intercourse —that’s why he was still a virgin— . statistically though, scientists have discovered that, the higher the sex drive of the individual.

but spencer could probably count the times he has masturbated in his 25 years of life with one hand. he just… didn’t get the need.

well, that was a lie. there was obviously a need. a physical one. he, like any other man, woke up with morning wood every morning. but there wasn’t a… psychological one. he had never… fallen in love. sure. he could find beauty in a woman. even a man. but… he just didn’t…

couldn’t finish.

he had tried. made research. tried again…

and when he couldn’t make it. he would gave up.

spencer reid has never had an orgasm.

until today.

after trying pretty much everything. he tried the thing he wished he’d never have to use: porn.

just a few clicks and he was into one of the million of pages for it. and there was a lot of… content. a lot of options in which you could choose from.

but one video caught his attention. it was about dom/sub dynamics, and a little bit of bondage. he had informed himself about them, and curiosity won as he clicked on it.

his eyes widened when the view of a beautiful —and completely naked— woman caught his eyes. her wrists were tied to the posts of the bed in which she was laying, cries and mewls leaving her lips along with some ‘stop’s and ‘it’s too much!’s. in between her thighs, a man of his complexion —although spencer was more skinny, lean, but skinny—, laid, devouring her cunt as if he were starved, arms keeping her pinned, still, as the woman tried to scape from the pleasure and overstimulation, hips jerking against the man’s face, thighs shaking, tears streaking down her face.

but what really did it for spencer was not the sight, it was the fact that the woman looked like you. same hair and eye color, same complexion, same full lips… if he took off his glasses he could…

no. that was wrong.

you were his coworker.

it didn’t matter if he’s had the biggest crush on you since you had joined the team a year ago, or that he was unconditionally and irrevocably in love with everything that made you… you.

he had never fantasized about you. well, he had. how couldn’t he, you were beautiful, and smart, and kind, and… and he couldn’t control his subconscious mind while being asleep or what he would dream of. so of course he had had wet dreams about you.

but he had never touched himself with you in mind. he believed that you didn’t deserve to be objectified like that.

so he wouldn’t.

he tried and focus on the video. on the moans, on the groans and touches. and it worked. he was hard. he teased himself over his slacks, slowly, a breath leaving his lungs before pulling down the zipper and pulling down his pants and underwear, releasing his semi and taking it in his hand with a sigh.

he focused on the video, cheeks reddening at the embarrassment he felt for be doing this. but he had to try.

slowly, he started to jerk his cock, long drawn out faps from the tip to the root. he moaned as he played with the sensitive and weeping slit on the head, before continuing.

but after minutes and minutes of trying, his high wouldn’t come. he groaned and stopped. of course it wouldn’t come.

a flash of you passed through his mind and thoughts of you in the position of the woman in the screen, with him being in between your thighs, making you feel good, making you feel so good you couldn’t take it. but he would make you take it.

his cock twitched, and he groaned as he started moving his hand right back up. he was just so desperate to cum. it hurt. and he just couldn’t not think about you. he did all the time. also. you wouldn’t know right? it would just be this one time.

he took off his glasses, and went back to the video, where now the man was pushing up and in between his thighs, pulling a scream from the woman when he thrusted inside her, fast and hard.

spencer’s pupils were blown, his breathing ragged. it’s as if he could see you, see him. fucking you just like that man was fucking the woman. pounding into her swollen, overstimulated and squelching cunt over and over again, pulling his legs up against her chest in a mating press, reaching so deep he was on her cervix.

‘i can’t please. i can’t! it’s too much!’

spencer whimpered, going faster, hearing the woman cry. would you cry too? would you beg him to stop? would you beg him for more? how would you sound moaning his name? screaming it?

“fuck.”

please spencer, i can’t take it anymore, it’s too much!!!

he could almost hear it. your sweet voice lost in pleasure. could feel your plush soft skin under his fingertips as he’ll spank your thigh, taste the salt on your skin as he’d suck on your neck and chest.

“take it. fucking take it. you know you want it. you know you want this cock.”

he got lost in the moment, pretending with his eyes closed that the moans of the woman were your moans, moving his hand at the punishing ruthless rhythm the man fucked her.

jesus, this felt good…

more spencer, give me more!

“you want more?”

yes, please, please spencer, fuck me more, fuck me harder!

“holy fuck. yeah, i’ll fuck you harder.” his fist moved faster up and down his cock, slicked in his precum. “i’ll fuck you so hard you’ll have a hard time walking for days.” he tightened his hold. “fuuuuuck.” he moaned your name. “you’re so tight. so perfect for me. taking it so well… you were made for this. for taking my cock, hm?”

yes, yes, only for you spencer… i want you to cum inside. please cum inside. breed me, spence.

he groaned, his eyes rolling, a new unknown tight feeling growing in his lower stomach, his dick leaking and twitching like crazy.

“you want me to cum inside? inside this pretty little cunt? want me to breed you? leave you full and dripping?”

he could picture you, nodding, babbling, pleading.

“then take it. take my fucking cum. gonna fuck it so deep… right into your womb. fuck. take it take it take it!”

and with a last moan, his world was breaking up, vision whitening, whole body spasming as thick heavy loads of creamy white cum shot out of his cock, making a mess out of his wooly vest and hand. he was moaning, groaning and gasping, continuing to move his hand through his high, until nothing else was coming out. the video had ended long ago.

he looked up at his blurry ceiling. and groaned.

fuck.

he had just had his ever first orgasm.

and the reason had been you.

@cafekitsune ‘s separators!

@kittyisick ty for your support angel, hope you like it!💋