#so now the bottom button does not match

[darkandstormydolls]

I’m making a shirt that I just realized matches my phone background

[gghostwriter]

One Single Thread of Gold

Spencer Reid x Fem!Reader

Part 2 Summary: The three times Penelope tries to solve a Spencer Reid riddle and the one time she (and the team) meet the reason behind all the changes Trope: Fluff! Just fluff and team banter! w.c: 4.0k a/n: For some reason, my earlier post on this disappeared dunno why. But this is a very self indulgent fic as reader’s background is basically based on the industry I work in. I had a lot of fun writing the team banter and I hope you enjoy it too! Comments and reblogs are greatly appreciated 💗

The first clue presented itself on a dull Wednesday night as the team, minus Hotch and Rossi, were leaving the bullpen after a full day of pushing papers. Penelope in all of her sunshine and colorful glory was buzzing about these accessories that she once spotted on a storefront window.

“I saw a pair of earrings and a matching necklace that would look so good with that top you bought the other day, JJ. You know, the blue one with those soft sleeves—they would look great with it. It’s tres boho chic.”

JJ smiled, opening her mouth to reply, but Spencer beat her to it.

“Did you know that boho chic was actually a response to political and social movements?”

“Wait, what?” Emily interjected.

He took her disbelief as a sign to continue on. “Yeah, yeah. There’s an article written about it in Vogue—softness and femininity historically appears in moments of political stress and war. Just like in the 70s with the hippie and anti-war movement that defined their style as a generation.”

They all piled into the elevator and turned to face the boy genius like he grew another head. For all they knew, this could be a clone and a very bad one at that. The Spencer Reid that they knew had absolutely no interest in the realms of fashion.

Penelope was the first to break the silence. “Vogue?”

“Kid, what gives? Just the other time, you didn’t know how many shoes a woman owns and now you’re some kind of expert?” Derek asked with both eyebrows raised.

“Did not knowing activate some kind of button that made you want to read about it?” Emily added on, feeling like she was in some kind of TV prank show.

“What?” Spencer licked his lips, nervous with all the attention on him. He felt like he was about to slip something up that he had been keeping to himself for a while now. A hidden precious gem that was you. “I—I like to read.” A believable excuse except his voice went up an octave, giving him away.

The three women shared a look.

“But you read academic textbooks and classic literature,” JJ stated.

Penelope added on. “Not fashion magazines.”

He shrugged, trying to act nonchalant. “I don’t discriminate when it comes to reading. If it’s interesting—” he shifted his weight one side to another, thinking that the ride down on the elevator seemed to be taking slower than usual. “—I’ll read it.”

Penelope narrowed her eyes. She was no profiler but she could smell a lie from a mile away way. That wasn’t the whole truth. Dr. Spencer Reid was hiding something.

“Okay, see you tomorrow!” he squeaked out as he ran out of the elevator once it hit the lobby.

She turned to the three profilers, stunned with the boy genius’ erratic behavior. “Huh, did anybody else get the feeling that Spencer was hiding something?”

“Maybe, but the kid does read a lot. Maybe he just ran out of books.” Morgan shrugged.

The other two profilers tilted their heads and slowly nodded in agreement. It wasn’t far off on something Spencer would do. He did once pick up a pamphlet in the airport to read as mentioned before to her by Derek, granted it was for a case but still, Penelope couldn’t shake the feeling that there was something else.

So when she arrived home that very same night, she propped up her laptop and got to digging. Boy Genius was hiding something big and Little Miss Oracle of Quantico can find anything with her tech skills. She’ll get to the bottom of this mystery, once and for all.

———

Spencer was glad to be coming home to your presence. Having spied the lights still on from the outside of the apartment, he took the steps two at a time, excited to see his 2nd favorite person after his mother—you.

“Spence?” You called out, having heard the mahogany front door open. “Is that you, baby?”

“Hey, love. I missed you,” he deposited his satchel to the nearby sofa and ran to give you a hug.

You burrowed yourself into his arms. All the muscles in your body relaxing as you caught a whiff of his cedar wood perfume—the same scent you’ve gifted to him during the early stages of dating. “I missed you too. How was your day?”

“Better now with you,” his words coming out muffled as he refused to detach himself from the embrace. “Actually, I almost slipped up today.”

You extricated from his arms to give him an inquisitive look. The slight scrunch on your nose and raised brows made his heart flutter. How expressive, free, and trusting you were. It reminded him of your first encounter. How you teasingly asked him if he was a serial killer when he offered you a ride home in the pouring rain and how you easily accepted regardless.

“Yeah? Did any of them catch on?” you probed as you pulled him by his belt loops to the direction of the bedroom.

He laughed, finding your aggression cute. “No. At least, I don’t think so.”

“Maybe we should schedule dinner with them sometime,” you coyly suggested as you slowly started to unravel his tie. “I mean, we’ve been together for over a year now and I have moved into your apartment, under the guise of watering your plants while you’re away. Which is a lie, by the way—”

“I have plants!” he protested. His hands divesting you out of his sweater, bringing to view his favorite silk set in deep purple that accentuated your skin and the blush on your cheeks.

“—that I brought over, Spence,” you quipped back. “But don’t worry, I won’t spill how the intelligent FBI agent fooled naive me into moving in with him.”

There was a glint in his eyes that sent shivers down your spine. “Love, I wouldn’t exactly call you naive—” his voice going an octave lower. “—not when you’re looking at me with those tempting eyes of yours.”

Giggling, you leaned in for a kiss, one that he quickly took over. His calloused dominant hand wrapped around the back of your neck, effectively caging you in while his other cradled your cheek—a stark contrast to the other. Kissing Spencer had always felt like a religious experience that you never want to part from.

Reluctantly pulling away, you caught glimpse of his need for you. His hazel eyes now dark as ink, nostrils slightly flared, teeth sinking into his lower lip, and his dominant hand dug into the fleshy nape of your neck. It made you feel desirable, like the goddess that he would call you when he’s on his knees tasting nectar from the source.

The discussion of inviting the team out for dinner was long forgotten. No other words were spoken as you pushed him on the bed—only the cries of his and your name and moans of ‘yes’ echoed well into the night.

***

The second clue was uncovered when Spencer walked into the cold windy bullpen with new black cardigan adorning his lithe body. It was non-descriptive to the untrained eye but for fashion enthusiast Penelope Garcia, she knew what those four white lines on the sleeve meant—luxury label and priced well above their pay grade.

She narrowed her eyes. The Spencer she knew wouldn’t dare spend his salary on anything besides limited first edition books. Something was truly up and she planned to get to the bottom of it as her initial online search turned up nothing.

“Reid, that’s a really nice sweater,” she complimented, throwing in her bait.

He smiled. The thought of who gave it to him warmed his heart. “Yeah. Yeah, thanks Garcia.”

Her sparkly pink kitten heels clacking on the floor as she came closer. “Can I see it?” she innocently asked.

The request threw Spencer off the loop but thought nothing of it as he shrugged and handed it to her—still warm from body temperature.

Her squeals caught the attention of the other profilers filling into the office.

“What is it, baby girl?” Morgan deposited his bag on the table and stationed himself beside her. “It’s Reid’s new sweater. Are you seeing something I’m not seeing?”

Garcia rolled her eyes. This was why females are considered more observant that their sex counterpart. Her chocolate thunder was a profiler but how could he not notice what she was deducing?

“Huh,” Emily surmised. “Based on the fibers, it’s definitely not polyester. Possibly a 100% wool, what do you think, JJ?”

“It says here on the tag—100% virgin wool,” she read out loud. “That makes it very expensive, right Garcia?”

The colorful tech analyst smiled. Her girls could never let her down. “Right you are, girlfriends! But it’s not only that, this—” pointing at the four stripes on the sleeve. “—this is a signature Thom Browne detail. Their prices go up to at least 600 dollars—” they all turned to Reid who seemed clearly agitated. “—now why does our boy wonder have a piece that could buy at most five cute heels?”

With his vast intellect, he couldn’t think of a way to weasel out of this impromptu interrogation. He couldn’t very well say that it was a gift now could he? If he did, that would lead to another hard hitting question ‘from who?’ He raked his hand through his curly hair, taking the same path as yours did just earlier as you gave him a kiss goodbye.

When you gifted him the cardigan from your last New York business trip, he really thought nothing of its material equivalence, besides feeling grateful and loved. It was proof that you paid attention to even the littlest details about him.

“Hey Spence, I got you something,” you looked up at him with sparkling eyes. The first thing you had done when you got home was run into his arms. A simple act that healed his aching heart from missing it’s other half.

You reached into your luggage, enthusiastically pulling out the black clothing wrapped in tissue paper like some magician pulling out a rabbit from a hat. “Here you go!”

“A new sweater!” He exclaimed.

You rocked on your heels, looking bashful as you explained the reasoning behind it. “I noticed you fidgeting when you wore the cardigan JJ gifted you last Christmas, the polyester fibers used on it must have been really itchy so I got you a new one—” your eyes widened at how your explanation could be taken the wrong way. “—not that her gift wasn’t great! No, it was very cute! It’s just—I want you to be comfortable and protected during your cases in cold states. Polyester is a good insulator of heat but wool is still the best.”

He loved how unabashed you rambled about your interests. That was one of the first things he piqued his notice. How you liked to share your knowledge about the fashion industry that you work for but never coming across as stuck up or snobby, you just genuinely wanted to educate anyone who had a wrong perception of the billion dollar commerce. Admittedly, he was one of them but hearing you rave about it’s nitty-gritty details and socio-economic movements changed his mind. It also helped that a beautiful and intelligent woman, such as yourself, was educating him.

He pulled you in for a kiss, stopping all the worries that ran through your head. “I love it. Thank you.”

“It’s nothing at all, baby. I like taking care of you. Just like how you take care of me,” you reasoned. “Plus I got it on sale courtesy of the magazine connections.”

A tap on his shoulder brought him out of his reverie. It was Penelope with an eyebrow raised at the subtle smile that graced his face while he replayed the moment in his head.

“Okay,” Morgan drawled. “What’s got you smiling, Pretty boy?”

“Nothing,” he squeaked out, turning to see Hotch make his way across the office. Spencer hurriedly collected his things and started to move even before their unit chief could call their attention.

“We have a case,” Hotch announced.

The remaining BAU members all looked at each other, silently communicating about Reid’s irregular demeanor, before piling into the conference room for another grueling scene of murder.

“He’s been acting weird,” Garcia rushed out. “Definitely hiding something. What do you think, Em?”

Emily nodded. “Are you thinking what I’m thinking?”

“A girl?” JJ guessed.

“Yes, must be a special one for him to keep secret for so long,” Garcia surmised. “Do you think he’ll hate it if I go further digging around to find out who she is?”

“Further?” Emily clarified.

JJ laughed. “Probably, let’s wait for him to volunteer the information. Okay, Garcia?”

She sighed, shoulders drooping, before nodding in agreement.

***

The third clue was quite literally handed to Penelope Garcia on the jet after a case when she accompanied the team.

“Cold Alaska is so not good for my skin,” she grumbled as she rummaged her bottomless bag for her favorite hand cream. “I love going with you all on trips rather than being stuck in my own tech cave but the weather wasn’t it.”

Morgan chuckled. “Aw c’mon baby girl, don’t tell me you didn’t enjoy our time together?”

“You, my sculpted hunk, and the fireplace were the highlight,” Penelope turned to the other female profilers. “My beauties, do any of you have lotion? I think I lost mine.”

Before JJ or Emily could even utter a word, a tube made its way to her lap courtesy of her seat mate, Dr. Spencer Reid.

“Reid, since when do you carry lotion?” Emily inquired.

He shrugged. “Hand cream has it’s benefits besides from moisturizing the skin, it also provides an additional layer of protection. Depending on it’s properties, it can also repair and undo damage.”

The females all shared a look. This was another unexplainable behavior from their resident genius.

“We know that,” JJ stated. “We just thought you didn’t.”

His brows furrowed. “Why wouldn’t I?”

“Well, besides from the fact that you’ve never shown interest about skincare before, isn’t it a stereotype for men not to know? Unless—” Emily slyly smiled and nodded at Garcia to continue.

“Unless you have a girlfriend that we don’t know about,” Garcia bounced on her seat.

Hook, line, and sinker.

Spencer’s eyes widened in alarm. He didn’t realize he was walking into a trap before it was too late. “What makes you say that?”

They laughed.

JJ started. “Besides from you suddenly being knowledgeable in fashion—“

“—or having a pricey sweater you’d never buy for yourself—” Emily added on.

“Or, or—“ Garcia reached out to touch his hand. Which made Spencer react with a high pitched call of her name. “—having a shea butter lotion with rough hands!” She waved the tube up in the air. “Plus, this is half empty. So either it’s not working which I doubt since this is a good brand or you keep this in your bag for a special someone to use!”

Derek chuckled. “Baby girl, you could be a profiler at this point.”

“Oh tell me something I don’t know,” she quipped back. “So Reid, want to tell us the truth?”

He sighed, finding no escape. “Yes, yes I have a girlfriend.”

The girls all shrieked with laughter and their own corresponding questions of who is she? How did you meet? How long has this been going on? What does she do for a living? Is she pretty? Oh I bet she is!

“Looks like that cat is out of the bag,” Rossi nonchalantly stated.

Four sets of eyes turned to look at one of the BAU founders. “Rossi, you knew about this and didn’t tell me?” Garcia gasped, a hand to her chest at the thought of betrayal.

He laughed. “I caught them on a dinner date once and our boy wonder over here—“ nodded in Reid’s direction. “—begged me not to out him yet, said he wanted to be the one to tell the team the news but that was like what, six months ago?”

“Six months ago?” Emily repeated.

“Wait, wait. Hotch, don’t tell me you also knew?” Morgan asked.

The unit chief smiled. “She was added to Reid’s emergency contact last February.”

“February? That’s almost a year ago!” JJ sputtered out.

The tech analyst turned to glare at the youngest member of the BAU. “Reid, you better start spilling all the details or so help me, I will stalk all your digital footprint when we land until I find out who she is, where she lives, and what her deepest darkest secret is.”

“What about hearing it all from her, instead?” He rubbed the back of his neck. The secrecy had gone on for so long and there was no time like the present to introduce his chosen family to his chosen partner—hopefully until the end of time. “She wants to treat you all out for dinner tonight.”

All four nodded vigorously as they watched him pull out his phone and send a quick text to which you readily replied and agreed to.

“My man,” Derek sighed. “Can’t believe you got a girlfriend without me being your wingman.”

“Answer me at least this, is she pretty and does she make you happy?” Garcia asked. No matter how nosey she may be, she only wanted the best for Spencer and if the recent lightness and smiles were all caused by his mystery girlfriend, she already approved.

“The prettiest,” Spencer gushed out. “She’s my own personal sunshine.”

The three girls melted into their seats. Their youngest was all grown up waxing prose over his lover.

“She makes you sappy too,” Derek teased.

***

[EXTRA - When the mystery was uncovered]

Spencer had never felt any more nervous that this moment as he, with the rest of the team minus Hotch and Rossi, wait for your arrival. He sat with his back to the restaurant entrance and his cardigan laying on the empty seat beside him as a reservation mark. His eyes had been going back and forth to his idle phone and to the conversation the team was having.

Morgan noted his state of distress and chuckled. “You okay there, lover boy? She’s still coming right, your mystery girlfriend?”

“Yeah, yeah. She said she was on her way 9 minutes and 24 seconds ago and based on the route and traffic, she should have been here 45 seconds earlier. Just worried that something might have happened.”

Penelope leaned in, picking on her bubblegum pink choice of drink as she did. “You know, if you just told me her name I could have tracked every movement by now and you wouldn’t be sitting here worrying.”

“What—no Garcia, I don’t want her tracked plus she didn’t want you to know everything about her even before meeting her,” his voice going up an octave in your defense.

She shrugged. “I’m just saying. I mean we don’t know a single thing about her—”

“We do know she exists and you’ve been together for almost a year now,” Emily interjected.

“Actually, it’s been more than year—one year and 124 days to be exact.”

“Buttercup, all I’m saying is we don’t even know how she looks—” Garcia gasped, having spotted a passerby on the window and what she was wearing. “Oh my gosh, that maroon coat is to die for and that textured leather bag—I wonder if I could track her down and ask where she got it.”

“Oh she’s pretty,” JJ noted.

Derek smirked. “Baby girl, tell me if you plan to ask her ‘cause I wouldn’t mind asking for her number.”

The tech analyst’s eyes further widened as she noted the attractive woman going inside the restaurant.

“You weren’t kidding about that coat, Garcia, it looks really nice,” JJ appraised.

Emily squinted her eyes, taking note of the garment in question. “It looks high quality, probably vintage and—is she going near us?”

“Oh gods, she is! Act natural, act natural!” Penelope chanted as she repeatedly slapped Derek’s arm.

The stranger stopped behind Spencer. “Hey handsome,” your melodic voice was a siren that called to his every being. “Fancy seeing you here.”

Penelope’s jaw dropped as she took in Derek’s flustered reaction.

“Me?” He pointed at himself, getting picked up in such a public setting was new even for him—the ladies man of the BAU.

You laughed. “Well, you too but I was more of talking to this lover of mine—“ you bent down, kissing your boyfriend’s cheek. “Hey, Spence.”

A series of gasps were heard all around the table.

The youngest stood up and turned to give you a soft kiss on the lips. “Hey, Y/N. I was starting to get worried.”

“I missed the train, sorry I forgot to send an update,” you explained as he helped you into your seat.

Promptly seating back down, he angled his body to yours—all attention on you as if you were the only one in the room. And in a way you were, with how molten his doe eyes stared, alternating between yours and your painted lips that begged to be kissed.

He always felt breathless when you were near. It was as if he found his very own Aphrodite to worship here on earth. Spencer was no believer of fates or destiny but he would pray and light a candle if he needed to, just to keep you his. Your intelligent mind complimenting his, your outgoing personality that draws anyone in, and your face that could launch a thousand ships.

Those eyes that could read the deepest crevices of his fiber of being. Those cheeks that begged to be caressed by his calloused hands. Those soft lips that deserved to be kissed and devoured until you, in turn, were as breathless as he was. He suddenly wished you both were anywhere else but here—specifically in the confines of the apartment where he was free to express his love, devotion, and adoration until you scream his name and beg him to stop. His hand, having found it’s way to your thigh, squeezed the flesh three times—communicating his promise to have your hair laid around you like a halo as you lay under him, bare and writhing with need.

The blonde on the other end of the table cleared her throat, cutting through the tension.

“Okay, Spence,” she smiled. “Mind introducing us to your girlfriend?”

He brought your hand to his lips, leaving a series of sweet kisses on your knuckle. “This is Y/N, my girlfriend. Y/N, this is the rest of the team. Morgan—“ he gestured to each one. “Emily, JJ, and Garcia.”

“It’s nice to finally meet you!” You exclaimed. “So sorry we’re only meeting now. We wanted to stay in our little bubble for as long as we could plus this handsome FBI agent—” you nudged Spencer’s shoulder. “—wanted to keep me to himself. But where’s Aaron and Dave?”

Emily whispered under her breath. “Aaron? Dave?”

“They had prior commitments, love. They did send their regards and Rossi wants to invite you to the next gathering at his mansion,” Spencer explained.

“Love?” Penelope squeaked out. This was really starting to feel like Twilight zone for the team members.

You nodded. “I’ll definitely plot it on my calendar. Now, I heard you had some questions for me?”

“How’d you two meet?” JJ asked.

“When was the first date?” Emily inquired.

Penelope brought out a pen and paper. “What’s you social security number?”

Derek snorted at that. “Do you have any other siblings?”

Spencer’s eyebrows raised further and further up with each question while your shoulders shook with laughter.

“She has all the time in the world to get to know each of you,” Spencer laid out. “No need to make it sound like an interrogation.” He was wishing to keep you forever, if you’d let him.

You smiled as you caressed his cheek, having caught on to the veiled meaning behind his words. “Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

Comments and reblogs are greatly appreciated!

[tadc-harlequin-au]

New Puppet Unlocked: Caine, The Puppetmaster!

Caine's character description:

For the longest time, Caine believed that he was the only Puppet left who hasn't gone insane, and has spent living in near complete and total isolation for it (if it weren't for Bubble, his robotic Butler Blimp), drowning himself in booze for what seemed to be the remainder of his days.

That was, until Pomni suddenly arrived at his office out of nowhere and challenged him.

Her sudden appearance, her fierceness in battle and various other reasons, Caine sought to get Pomni to see the dire situation after a stalemate in their duel; That they're the last remnants of sane minds remaining in this forsaken lands and he needs her help for what must be done next, if they are to improve the world's conditions. Thankfully, the Harlequin was not actually cold-hearted, just hot-tempered.

Reinvigorated in his self-assigned purpose, The Puppetmaster now spends his time either indoctrinating reawakened Puppets and teaching them how to become "human" once more, tinkering/inventing new machines, having friendly debates or sparring with Pomni just to satisfy her urge to battle, and various other things.

Though, he still likes to drink.

Fun facts about Caine:

He is a massive drunkard.

He passes out in the most random places if he drinks too much. One of the most outrageous locations Pomni has found him in was at the chandelier on the main lounge, which even he can't remember how he got there.

Caine still acts boisterous and speaks mostly formally; though there are ways you can break his way of speech, the easiest way to do it is to surprise him.

He avoids using swears, says it's a gentleman's code. Though, some get past his mouth on a rare occasion.

He created Bubble out of loneliness, initially just wanting someone to talk to.

In a comedic parallel, he tends to limit Pomni's cravings for battle by holding her sword hostage as much as possible, of course to the Harlequin's frustration.

His second gold tooth on his bottom jaw was a result of his and Pomni's first meeting/duel. She ended up kicking him so hard in her rage, one teeth cracked in half and flew off.

He tends to look at everyone with a positive mindset and the want to see the best in them; although Jax seems to be a rare exception. Still, he lets the automaton be.

Most of his time is spent hanging around in his office. The only time you'll see him outside is if there's a task he needs to attend to, assembling Pomni back together in the cellar, another sparring match with the Harlequin, or when he talks to Z and/or Kingr, since they are both too big for the insides of the mansion.

Like almost every ADHD-person, he is prone to getting distracted easily.

He has a strict "no fighting in the premises" rule; instead, he tells them to literally take it outside (even if it means being on the neighboring lawn), as long as it's not on the INSIDE.

He keeps his shirt opened because he feels discomfort and suffocated when he buttons it up.

He doesn't like to talk about his past.

When asked what's his classification, he'll avoid and switch topics. His rare anger (but eerily-calm way of speech) comes out when you ask about it too much.

He does admit that his entire body was self-modified.

You can hear his arrival in a scene by the sounds of ball joints slightly cracking in place.

Aside from Pomni, he likes Kingr the most, finding the chess piece's presence calming. This has lead to jokes about a bromance happening between the two.

And just like Pomni as well, Caine fixes Kingr the most because the Helpful King tends to use himself as a shield for the Harlequin.

He's rarely seen without his cane.

He HEAVILY dislikes it when Pomni dies. When he is aware that Pomni is at the brink of death, he'll start panicking and telling her to go back and abandon the mission for now, through Bubble.

After Pomni's surprise arrival (and proof that he could still be hunted down if he wasn't careful enough), he took the manor up to the skies to ensure that the manor remains a safe haven.

Quotes:

"Greetings! I am Caine, and I am here to help you. That's all you need to know."

"I think we can arrange that."

"This is not part of the plan!"

"No fighting! Take it outside."

"Perhaps we can reach to a sort of agreement..."

"Hmm... quite intriguing."

"Why, I must say, this is quite the predicament..."

"Will you be mindful of your own sake next time, pretty please?"

"... I don't-... think that's how-... you know what, do whatever you want."

"... Okay, you don't need to go that far."

"You know what this calls for? [...] A CELEBRATION! [...] BUBBLE, TO THE LIQUOR STORAGE"

"You know, I haven't really thought this through enough--"

"BUBBLE! Did you chew through my latest project again?!"

"Oy vey..."

"I am aware of the effect that alcohol has on me. And quite frankly, I don't care."

"Strange, where am I? Who am I? What are we, but mass-produced products catered to extending one's stay on a desolate, abandoned realm? Are we even human anymore, or are we machines that think we're human in order to save ourselves from the pain of a fake existence? Hm? Oh right, I haven't eaten my dinner."

"Must we really resort to this method?"

"Oh, I just fixed that!"

"Apologies, I blanked out for a second. What were we talking about?"

"Bubble here can help you out on your dilemma. Just don't listen to him for any advices. Personally, I think sometimes he can make you jump off a cliff."

"What do you mean "I need to stop drinking"? I'm perfectly fi- *passes out*"

"Am I aware that it is an unhealthy coping mechanism? Yes. Do I plan to stop? Not exactly, there aren't a lot of options left."

"That is outrageous! Me? With her? That's... It's... *sigh* I can't. She'd never."

"May I just say, for once, what the actual fuck."

[vivwritesfics]

Knitting Diaries: Personal Projects

Oscar's girl takes a break from her Etsy business to work on a personal project. Little does he know, it's all for him.

Oscar Piastri x Fiber artist!Reader

"I'm putting my shop on hold for a little bit."

Oscar looked at you with confusion written across his face. He knew you so damn well, knew you loved running your shopping selling knit and crochet items. So why on earth were you putting it on hold.

It shouldn't have scared him, but it did. Slightly.

What about the evenings of you on the sofa, knitting beside him as the two of you caught up on your shows.

"Can I ask why?" He asked, staring down at you with his pretty eyes. The way he asked it, too, was damn sweet and hesitant. As if he was scared of the answer.

You raised your shoulders in a shrug, but that only worked to scare him more. He couldn't imagine a life where you weren't beside him with a crochet hook or a pair of needles.

"Just got some personal projects I wanna work on."

You couldn't stop yourself from smirking. It had Oscar furrowing his brows as he looked at you. He knew about all of your projects. From the little ones you could finish in a few hours to the big ones that took a few days. He knew about the ones you made to wear on holiday with him, watched you go through the maths in your little notebook to get your projects perfect.

"What the hell are you making?" He asked, stepping closer. Chest to chest, he wrapped his arms around you.

Your smirk grew more devious, somehow. "That's for me to know," you said and tapped his nose.

It was weeks of torture from that point. At least, that's how Oscar would describe it. You gave him no hints and clues as to what you were making, nothing that would satisfy his curious nature.

You just kept making. Without answering, without letting him see, you kept going.

There had to be a big reveal at some point. You couldn't keep going forever and not tell him what you were making, not show him the finished product.

Canada. It was warm, or it was wet and cold. The teams were prepared for every eventuality. You were prepared for every eventuality.

The night before, locked in the bathroom, you added the finishing touches to your project. Oscar was asleep in the room and you didn't want to risk waking him. You work with your headphones covering on ear as you sewed the buttons on.

As soon as the rain started, you pulled your cardigan from your bag.

It was a hideous, bright orange in colour, but it matched everybody around you.

But that wasn't what Oscar cared about.

He saw the white, McLaren logo on the right side front of your cardigan first. It was small, just a little piece of decoration. Barely noticeable from too far away.

But on the other side, the eighty-one. As if in a trance, he reached out to touch it, brushed his thumb over the stitches. The texture wasn't any different to the orange yarn, proving you didn't stitch it in as an after thought.

You turned around and his breath caught in his throat. His number again, but larger this time. Piastri sat above it. Your own letterman jacket, a one of a kind, all for him.

Fuck, he was in love with you.

No words needed to be said. He wrapped his arms around you and pulled you close. Kissed you as many times as he dared in such a public setting.

"It's incredible," he said, the brim of his hat pressing against your forehead.

A smile danced its way onto your lips. "Now everybody knows who I'm here to support," you mused, fingers playing with the hair sticking out from the bottom of his hat.

Yeah, there was no doubt you were a Piastri fan.

A/N: I wanna make an Oscar letterman cardigan type thing but not mclaren orange lmao

[draculasintern]

♡ You can be the Boss ♡

CEO!Bruce Wayne x Chubby/Plus sized!secretary!fem!reader Oneshot (?)

Cw: AFAB reader, office AU, power imbalance, age gap but not mentioned much, dominant!Bruce, “sir” kink, Pet names (Sweetheart, pretty, pretty thing), desk sex, oral (f receiving), fingering, overstimulation, light D/s, possessive!Bruce, he's a bit condescending then soft, aftercare, unspoken feelings, mutual pining, this is so inappropriate, freaky ass boss

Intern Note: Wrote this under candlelight while Dracula yelled about taxes. He doesn’t know I have Docs open..

He doesn’t touch you. He hasn’t—not once. But he watches.

And when he’s alone in that glass-walled office with only the hum of fluorescent lighting and the soft tap of your heels across the floor—he thinks.

Not about work. Not about the board. Not about Gotham.

No.

He thinks about how your blouse clings when you lean. How your pencil skirt always rides high on your thighs when you walk too fast. How your lipstick matches your nails. How your necklace dips into the crease of your cleavage when you tilt forward to hand him papers. And how oblivious you are to all of it. You’re not trying to flirt. You’re not playing innocent. You’re just… you.

Sweet. Competent. Tired. Always tired lately. You stay late when no one else does. Bring him coffee without being asked. Speak softly when his jaw is clenched.

You’re the only person in the building who doesn’t flinch when he raises his voice. You’re the only one who sees him when the rest of the city only sees the suit.

He hates it. He wants more of it.

The couch in the shared office is worn at the seams. You sit there after hours now—blouse unbuttoned just one button more than usual, like you’d loosened it without thinking. Your skirt tonight is different. Not the usual pencil fit. This one’s looser, longer. Falls past your knees in clean, soft lines.

It hugs the swell of your hips when you sit.

You’ve kicked off your heels. Set them politely beside the couch. Your legs are crossed, but not primly. You’re too tired for that. There’s a crease at your waist from sitting too long. A little smudge in your lipstick where you’d bitten your bottom lip.

He notices everything. Every. Single. Thing.

You look up suddenly, sensing something—maybe his gaze lingering too long—and give a quiet little smile.

“Everything okay, Mr. Wayne?”

He doesn’t answer. Not right away.

Because no. Nothing is okay. Not when you’re sitting there, looking like that. Not when he’s been fantasizing about tearing that skirt off with his teeth for weeks.

He clears his throat. Shifts behind the desk. You don’t notice. Of course you don’t.

He watches your eyes drop back to your notes, lashes low, and for a second, he can see it— You. Bent over his desk. Your necklace pooled on the floor. That sweet mouth of yours parted, moaning his name. You, ruined. Undone. All for him.

His cock throbs in his slacks. And he breathes out hard through his nose.

Control.

He still doesn’t speak. Just stands, walking slowly toward the couch. You don’t look up this time.

He stops just a few feet away. And then, finally— He says it. Low. Rough. Measured.

“You have no idea, do you?”

You blink. Look up.

Confused. “Sir?”

“The way you sit. The way you dress. The way you lean across my desk like you don’t know what you’re doing to me.”

Your lips part.

And for the first time tonight—maybe ever—you don’t speak. The air is heavy. Still. You’re staring at him, wide-eyed. Not offended. Not frightened. Just… processing.

Your thighs shift. The fabric of your skirt pulls. He watches it.

“You keep looking like that,” he says, voice quiet, dangerous, “and I’ll stop pretending to be a better man.”

Your breath hitches. But you still don’t move. You just watch him. And maybe now—finally—you know.

He doesn’t touch you. He still doesn’t touch you.

But when he turns back toward his desk, his hands are shaking. You go home with his voice still echoing in your head.

You shouldn’t. It should’ve faded in the cab, or in the elevator, or somewhere between unlocking your front door and kicking off your shoes. But it doesn’t.

You keep looking like that…

You unzip your skirt, toss it over the back of a chair. Your blouse is half open. You don’t remember unbuttoning it. You sit down on the edge of your bed like you’re waiting for something, hands limp in your lap. Your necklace presses warm into your chest. You reach up. Touch it. Slowly.

His eyes had followed it. Had tracked every sway and shift and little accidental show of skin.

He had looked at you like you were something he could taste. Like he’d been holding back for far too long. And he’d meant it.

He didn’t say it like a man trying to flatter his secretary. He said it like a man fighting every part of himself not to ruin her.

You breathe in, deep. Then out.

Your hand is still at your collar. Thumb brushing the edge of your necklace. Your pulse is louder than the city outside your window.

You lie awake most of the night.

Not because you’re in love. Not because you want him to sweep you into his arms and confess something tender.

But because you can still feel his stare. Because for one solid moment, you felt like prey. And you liked it.

And you know—if he ever stops holding back? You’ll let him.

You arrive the next morning five minutes early.

Lipstick reapplied. Skirt tighter. Necklace tucked just a little lower.

You don’t speak of the night before. Neither does he. But when you hand him his coffee, and your fingers brush—he looks at you. And smiles. Just barely. But it’s the kind of smile you’ll think about for days. Not soft. Not kind. More like a secret. Like he knows something you don’t.

You straighten the files in your arms even though they don’t need it. Your fingers tremble only a little. You don’t speak. You don’t have to.

Because everything feels different now. The air. The carpet under your heels. The faint smell of his cologne already clinging to the hallway before you even reach his door.

You sit at your desk. You type. You file.

You feel his gaze more than you ever did before. Not constant. Not indulgent. Just… present. Taut. Pulled like wire. Like he’s holding back.

And that’s what kills you the most. He hasn’t said anything else. He hasn’t done anything. But every moment, every quiet interaction— The brush of his hand when he gives you a folder. The pause when you glance over your shoulder. The way his voice drops half a step lower when he says your name— It all tastes like something that already happened.

Even though it hasn’t. Yet.

You don’t know when the line will be crossed. Maybe it never will.

But when the sun sets again—when the others go home and the floor empties out and the silence returns—he’s still there. And so are you.

But you’re not soft tonight. Not tired. Not gently fading into the couch like before. You’re busy. And furious.

Your jaw is clenched, a little muscle ticking near your cheek. Your eyes scan the reports on your screen like they’ve personally offended you. And your nails—painted in that same muted, perfect shade—are digging into the palm of your off-hand hard enough to leave little arcs of red.

Someone didn’t format their department files. Someone else duplicated a data pull with wrong timestamps. Someone signed off on a quarterly draft you now have to fix before the board sees it tomorrow.

It’s all coming down on you. And you should’ve gone home. Should’ve had time to think about the look he gave you yesterday. The low rasp of his voice when he told you not to wear that skirt again. The weight of your name in his mouth. But no. You’re stuck here. Grinding your teeth.

Because no one does their goddamn job.

And he hears it. From the other room. The tight typing. The sharp shuffling of folders. The little curse you whisper when a spreadsheet crashes and doesn’t autosave. He doesn’t come out right away. He waits.

He tells himself it’s to give you space. But really—he’s just watching. From his office doorway, tie loosened, jaw set.

He’s watching the way your shoulders tense under your blouse. The way your skirt rides up slightly when you shift in your seat. The way your hand rubs the stress out of your own wrist like it hurts to even exist in this building tonight.

He should offer help. He doesn’t. He just listens. Watches. And wonders if you’re as worked up about him as you are about the files.

You don’t notice he’s watching until you stand to grab another folder—fast, too fast—and drop a pen from behind your ear.

You bend to grab it. And he’s there.

“Don’t.”

You freeze, hand outstretched toward the pen. Your fingers brush the floor, then curl back. You straighten slowly.

Bruce is in the doorway. Tie loosened, eyes dark. He’s looking at you like you’ve just crossed a line. Like he’s trying not to follow.

“Don’t bend over like that,” he says quietly. “Not when I’m standing here.”

Your breath catches. His voice isn’t harsh. It’s low. Flat. Controlled. Like there’s something behind it he’s keeping caged.

You blink at him. “It’s just a pen.”

“It’s never just anything with you.”

Your mouth goes dry. He doesn’t move. He just stands there—tension in his jaw, hands in his pockets, gaze pinned to you like he’s memorizing every part of this moment for later.

And then, like it costs him, he tears his eyes away.

“Leave it,” he says, voice tighter now. “Get it later.”

He doesn’t walk away. Doesn’t look at you again. Just returns to his side of the room. The same one you share. You stand there.

Jaw tense. Breathing shallow. And something inside you just tips. You speak. Stepping back a bit.

“I’m not trying to bother you,” you mutter, not even looking at him. “I just—god, I’m frustrated.”

You’re still holding a folder—creased now in your grip. He steps closer with you noticing, you're too busy rambling to notice he's backing you against your desk.

“It’s like everyone clocked out early and left me with their unfinished trash. And now I’m the one stuck cleaning it up, again, because no one else knows how to follow a format. I was supposed to go home. I was supposed to unwind. I was gonna eat something that wasn’t coffee and fantasize about—”

You cut yourself off. Jaw flexing. Hand curling into a fist. “I’m tired. I’m so tired. And I know that’s not your problem, I just—”

You pause. You feel it before you hear it. The air changes. The weight of the room shifts. He’s in front of you. Close.

You hadn’t heard him move. Your voice falters—but you keep going, like momentum will protect you.

“I’m trying not to be dramatic, I just—I’m doing everything. Everything they don’t. And I’m not asking for praise or anything, I just—I don’t think I can keep doing this if I’m the only one who—”

You stop. Because you can feel him now. Standing right there. His chest barely brushing yours. His heat soaking into your chest.

And then—

“Yeah?” His voice is low. Against your ear. Just one word. “I'll fix that.”

You gasp. He doesn’t give you time to think. He leans in. Kisses the cuff of your ear. Then lower.

A soft, deliberate press of his mouth beneath it—where your neck curves into your shoulder. Warm. Hot. Careful. Like a secret he’s finally allowing himself to tell.

You inhale sharply, lips parting. “Mr. Wayne, what are—”

But you don’t finish. Because his teeth graze the edge of your jaw—just enough to make your knees lock. And still—he hasn’t touched anything else. Not your waist. Not your hands. Just his mouth. And the sharp, electric silence between you.

His teeth catch the sharp line of your jaw—lightly, deliberately. You breathe in. Fast. Shallow.

“Sir, I don’t—” Your voice cracks. “W...wait…”

But your legs are already pressed together. You’re not pulling away. You’re breathing hard, like he’s the one who backed you against the desk (he did)—like he’s the one chasing you (he is), even though you’re the one who led yourself here (gaslighting you right now). He doesn’t say anything. Just leans lower.

His breath is hot against your skin. You feel it first—then the drag of his mouth along the base of your throat. Slower now. Unforgiving.

And then—his lips part. Teeth. Tongue. Pressure. He bites. Not hard—but deep enough to leave a mark. Right at the base of your neck. Where no one will see it until you change. Until you’re home. Until you’re alone again, staring in the mirror and pretending this didn’t happen.

You let out a breath you didn’t know you were holding. It shakes on the way out. Your hand clenches the edge of the desk behind you. Your head tilts back just slightly—inviting, even though your mouth says the opposite.

“We can’t—” But you don’t move. And neither does he. His lips linger over the bruise. Warm. Possessive.

His voice is barely a whisper: “You should’ve gone home an hour ago then, sweetheart.”

His lips drag lower, slower this time—like he’s tasting the skin he just bruised. Like it’s his now. You can’t think. Can’t breathe right. Your body is hot and tense and aching in all the wrong ways, and still—you don’t push him back.

Your head tips farther. Your hand tightens on the desk. The words we shouldn’t die in your throat, drowned by the heat curling in your stomach. You squeeze your thighs together. He notices. Of course he does.

“Look at you,” he murmurs, voice like crushed velvet. “You’re trembling.”

You are. You don’t answer. You can’t. Because his mouth is back—just beneath your jaw now, soft and slow and dizzying. Your breath hitches. Your lips part.

“We shouldn’t…” you whisper, uselessly.

But it doesn’t even sound like you believe it. He huffs a quiet laugh against your skin—dark, satisfied. And his hand finally finds your waist.

It’s firm. Warm. Spanning your side like he’s meant to be there. You don’t flinch. You melt.

Bruce exhales through his nose, slow—like he’s holding something back. And then—he leans in again. Lips ghosting along your jaw. A kiss. Hot. Precise. One second too long.

“If you really don’t want this…” Another kiss—closer to your ear. “Tell me to stop.”

You don’t. You can’t. You just look at him.

Those wide, soft eyes—fuck, those eyes. All hesitant and glassy, like you’re about to cry but don’t know why. Your breath stutters. Your thighs clench tighter. He can see it. He can feel it in the way your hips shift, just slightly—like your body’s already aching for pressure.

And your mouth?

“Sir…” A whisper. A whimper. “Don’t stop…”

Your chin tips higher. Your neck tilts—offering him more. Giving him room. Like you want him to bite again. His grip on your waist tightens.

God. His thoughts are a mess. Vile. Addicted.

She’s probably soaked under that skirt. Soaked and trembling and standing here like she doesn’t know what she’s asking for. Cute little secretary, all pretty and sweet, probably ruined already from a few fucking kisses. Thighs pressed together like that’s going to help. Like she doesn’t want me to reach down and see what she’s hiding.

His hand flexes against your waist—thumb brushing over the soft curve of your belly. Fuck. You’re trembling.

“This is so…” you breathe. But your voice is barely there. And you don’t pull back.

Your plush stomach rises and falls with every shallow breath. He can feel the flutter of butterflies beneath it. The tension. The need. And all he wants is to see if you're as soft under your skirt as you are under his hands.

That spot—just beneath your ear, delicate and warm—and he mouths at it like he’s been dreaming of it. And when his lips drag over that exact place—

You whimper. Soft. Uncontrolled.

Your hand flies up to your mouth, eyes wide in horror.

But he’s already heard it. Already felt the way your thighs tensed. Already hard at the thought that he pulled that sound from you. He huffs—low and wrecked.

“That’s it,” he murmurs against your throat. “That’s how I want you.”

His hand rises, sliding along your waist—fingertips brushing your ribs, up, up—until he presses a kiss to the swell of your chest, right above your neckline. Then another, lower, near the center. Right where your necklace rests against your skin.

“Pretty thing,” he whispers, voice dark. “Shaking like I haven’t already made you mine.”

You gasp. But you don’t stop him.

And when his hands shift—gripping your hips now—you barely have time to breathe before he lifts you. Effortless.

Like your softness means nothing to him. Or rather—like it means everything.

He sets you on the edge of the desk, lips still on your skin, kissing up the curve of your chest. And then—he drops to his knees.

His hands find the hem of your skirt. Your breath catches.

“Let me see,” he murmurs. Not a question. Not a command. A need.

He lifts the fabric slowly—palms gliding up the soft skin of your thighs, kissing every inch as he reveals it.

The plush give of your legs. The way they tremble. He kisses above your knee. Then higher. Again. Your thighs twitch. He presses another kiss—closer now.

“So soft,” he murmurs against your skin. “You’ve been hiding all this from me?” Another kiss. Higher.

“You think I haven’t noticed? Every curve. Every step you take in those skirts that ride too high on your thighs.”

You’re breathless now. Flushed hot. Soaked. And he’s still kissing. Not your core. Not yet. Just your thighs—soft, plush, trembling beneath his mouth.

He starts at your knee, lips parting over the skin with obscene slowness. One kiss. Then another. Then a trail of heat dragged upward, like he’s mapping you out inch by inch.

You twitch when he reaches the tender inner part. You can’t help it.

Bruce groans—quiet, but deep—and presses his thumbs into the crease where thigh meets hip, parting your legs just enough to make you gasp.

“You’re already shaking,” he mutters against your skin.

You cover your mouth, trying to keep the whine in.

“Sir…” you breathe. Barely audible. But it makes him pause.

He lifts his head slightly, breath grazing over the front of your panties. “Say that again.”

You hesitate—swallowing hard—because he hasn’t even touched you properly, and your body’s already betraying you.

“Sir,” you whisper.

Bruce groans like he’s the one falling apart. And then he mouths over the fabric. Not removing it. Not yet. Just pressing his tongue through the soaked lace—tasting the heat, the slick.

“God…” His hands squeeze your thighs, thumbs brushing the edge of your panties like he’s contemplating tearing them. “You’re soaked through, sweetheart.”

You try to respond—try to say something coherent—but his mouth is back, pressing in, lips dragging along the soaked seam like he’s savoring the fact that you’re already ruined and still dressed.

“These are in the way.”

And with that—he hooks his fingers into the sides of your panties and pulls them down, slow.

Dragging the damp fabric down your soft thighs, watching how the slick clings, watching it stretch before snapping back—leaving you bare and glistening. He stares like it’s the first light he’s seen in years.

“Fuck…” he swears. “Look at you.”

Then—he leans in. And licks one long, deep stripe through your folds. Your whole body jolts. A breath caught in your throat.

“Sweetest fucking thing I’ve ever tasted,” he rasps. “You have no idea what you do to me.”

And then he’s gone—mouth sealed, tongue working, hands pinning your thighs open. He doesn’t ease you into it. He dives in.

Tongue curling. Lips dragging. Nose brushing your clit with every groan he lets out against your soaking core. He eats like he means it—like he’s starving. Like this isn’t just something he wants—it’s something he needs. You let out a sound—half gasp, half whimper—and slap a hand over your mouth, cheeks flushing hot. You’ve never had this before. Not even close.

No one’s ever been down there for you—let alone a man like him. With his mouth greedy, his grip bruising, his voice hoarse from how much he wants to stay between your legs.

“Sir,” you whisper, but it’s shaky—like you're falling apart just trying to say it.

Bruce groans into you. The sound vibrates right through your clit. Your thighs twitch, instinct pulling your knees inward—but his grip tightens, holding you open with one large hand as his other smooths slowly over your trembling belly.

“First time?” he murmurs, voice wrecked, lips brushing against your soaked folds.

You nod, eyes glassy, thighs trembling harder.

“Thought so,” he growls, pressing a kiss right over your clit.

Then another.

Then his tongue slides deep again, slower now—but more intentional. More possessive.

“You’re too sweet not to have been touched like this,” he mutters against you. “Too fucking soft.”

You’re whimpering now. Not because it hurts. Because it doesn’t.

It feels too good.

“W..we shouldn’t—” you gasp, but your hips roll toward his mouth like they know better. “Not here–”

He chuckles. Dark. Muffled. "Yes, here.."

And then—he sucks.

Mouth wrapping around your clit, tongue flicking until your hand is gripping his hair, thighs pressed to his jaw, your whole body tense and fluttering.

“Sir—ah—Sir, I—”

But he doesn’t stop. Doesn’t slow.

He groans again—filthy and full—like he’s tasting every single noise that falls out of you.

“That’s it,” he pants, breath hot, lips dragging over your slick skin. “Cum on my tongue, sweetheart. Let me feel it.”

And you do.

You fall apart with a sharp cry, hand still over your mouth, legs shaking, soaked and ruined and barely keeping it together as he rides you through it, licking up every drop like it’s his prize.

He pulls back slowly, tongue heavy in his mouth, lips slick and red from where he’s just been. You’re still panting. Shaking. He doesn’t move far—just enough to look at you.

Your skirt is bunched around your waist. Your blouse clings to your chest. And your thighs are still parted, trembling, the inside of them wet with him.

“I can—” you start, voice quiet, “I can return the favor, Sir.”

He breathes hard through his nose. The way you say Sir nearly breaks him.

“No,” he says. A little too fast. A little too raw. “Don’t.”

He presses one hand to your knee. The other slides up—slow, firm—until his fingers trace the heat between your legs. You jolt. Breath catching.

“This isn’t about me,” he murmurs. “Not tonight.”

And he doesn’t stop touching you.

Even after you’ve come on his tongue—hard, ruined—he stays there, face still between your thighs, fingers dragging through the slick mess he’s made.

He watches it. Watches how it glistens between your folds. Watches the way you twitch every time he brushes too close to your clit.

You’re still in your blouse. Still in your skirt.

Your thighs are bare now, trembling under the heat of his breath.

And Bruce? Bruce is still on his knees. Still in that expensive suit. Still hard behind his zipper, jaw tight like he’s holding something back.

His fingers are slow at first. Sliding over your slit. One thick finger pressing just enough to feel how soft you are inside.

“You ever been touched like this?” he murmurs—not teasing. Just curious. Just ruined.

You nod slowly, breath stuttering. “Yeah… just not like this.”

He hums. Dark. Low. His fingers stroke again, dragging slick over your entrance.

“Figures,” he mutters. “You’re used to boys, huh?”

You don’t answer. Not when he’s already pushing a single finger inside—steady, controlled. You gasp, hips twitching forward. His mouth presses to your thigh.

“You feel that?” he breathes. “How easy you open up for me?”

You nod again. Barely. His name trembles on your tongue, but you can’t form it.

He curls the finger once, then again—deep—and your whole body jolts. He kisses your other thigh. A little harder this time. Closer to where his finger is moving. His mouth is warm. Wet.

“So fucking tight,” he mutters. “Can’t stop thinking about how you’re gonna feel around my cock.”

Your breath stutters. “Sir—”

His tongue drags a line up the inside of your thigh. His finger doesn’t stop. If anything, he adds another—thick, smooth, stretching you open until your knees shake. You feel full—not overwhelmed, just aware. Like he’s studying how your body reacts to every thrust, every curl, every filthy flick of his wrist.

“They didn’t take their time with you, did they?”

You don’t answer.

Because he’s right. You’ve had sex. But not like this. No one’s ever knelt for you. No one’s ever worked their fingers this deep, this slow. Kissed your thighs like they meant it. Like they wanted to. Like they couldn’t help it.

You’ve been touched. But not like this. Not like he’s savoring you. Not like he’s grateful to be on his knees between your legs, with your skirt hitched up and your body flushed, trembling, real.

And maybe that’s what hits you hardest. Because you’ve always been soft. And you know what the world does with softness—it tolerates it. Avoids it. Looks past it.

But Bruce? Bruce is looking.

His mouth presses another kiss to your thigh. His hand, large and warm, spreads across your waist like it fits there. Like it belongs. Not clutching. Not pawing. Just holding—firm, steady.

“You have no idea,” he mutters, voice wrecked, “how long I’ve wanted to touch you like this.”

You almost laugh—but your breath hitches instead. You can feel your heartbeat in your throat. Your skin. Between your legs.

“I’m not—” you start.

But the words vanish when his fingers move again, deep and slow.

“Not what?” he murmurs. His lips ghost up your thigh. “Not like the girls you think I’ve had?”

Your chest rises. Your hands grip the edge of the desk behind you.

“You think I’d be on my knees for anyone else?” He curls his fingers inside you—just right—and your whole body jolts.

“No. Just you.”

He leaves a few marks on your inner thighs.

“The way you sound, the way you feel—fuck, the way you look in these skirts…”

You moan softly, and he eats it up. Kisses the crease of your thigh. Moves his hand from your waist to your hip, grounding you.

“You’re not some fantasy. You’re real. And you’re gorgeous.”

Your thighs tremble.

He doesn’t let up. Doesn’t give you time to hide or deflect or turn your face away. Because he’s not worshipping the idea of you.

He’s touching you.

And wanting you.

Two fingers, deep, curling just right. His thumb strokes lazy circles over your clit. Not fast. Just enough. Just perfect.

Your thighs are shaking now. Your grip on the desk is white-knuckled.

“That’s it,” he murmurs behind you. “Just like that.”

Your skirt’s still bunched up at your hips. Your blouse still clings to your back. You’re mostly dressed, but it doesn’t matter—because you’re coming apart anyway.

You moan—soft, sweet, wrecked. And Bruce watches every second of it.

“So good for me,” he breathes, voice tight. “Letting me feel you like this…”

You choke on a sound—his name maybe—but your body does the rest for you. Your walls clench around his fingers, trembling through it, hips twitching as your orgasm hits hard and helpless.

“That’s it. Just like that. Let me have it, pretty.”

He works you through it, slow and patient, fingers never leaving you until you’re whimpering from the aftershocks.

And when he finally pulls them out—slick and glistening—he doesn’t speak for a moment. He just looks.

Then, quietly: “Can you take me?”

You blink stars in your vision, still catching your breath, hand over your mouth.

“Are you up for it?” His voice is lower now. Rough. Like he’s asking, not assuming. Like this is the moment he’ll stop if you ask him to.

You turn your head, breathless and hot. “Please, Sir…”

It breaks something in him. You hear it—in the low groan that leaves his chest. In the clink of his belt coming undone. In the way he swears under his breath like he’s been waiting years to hear you say it.

“Fuck…”

His trousers slide down. His hand wraps around himself once—just to take the edge off. And then—he steps closer.

“I’m gonna take care of you, sweetheart,” he murmurs, cock dragging through your slick folds. “Gonna fuck you nice, I promise.”

You feel the head of him press against your entrance—thick, hot, aching.

“Still so soft,” he whispers against your cheek. “Still so wet for me.”

He slides in slow. Thick. Heavy.

Stretching you inch by inch, so full you can barely think—barely breathe. Your soft thighs twitch against his sides. Your fingers dig into the muscled skin of his arms, holding tight.

“Fuck,” you whisper—half-shocked, half-wrecked.

Bruce groans low in his throat, forehead nearly pressed to yours.

“Yeah?” he breathes. “You feel it, don’t you…”

And god, do you.

He’s so thick. He’s not even moving yet, and it already feels like he’s splitting you open—dragging along every nerve, pressing deep where no one’s ever reached.

His hands settle at your waist, sinking into the soft give there—not just steadying you, but grabbing you. Like he needs the feel of your body under his palms just to stay grounded.

You let out a shaky breath. Your arms reach up, instinctive, wrapping around his neck and pulling him closer—needing the weight of his chest, the warmth of his breath against your mouth.

“Oh, sweetheart…” he exhales, broken.

You moan in his ear when he grinds in just a little deeper, adjusting the angle. He groans again—this time lower, rougher, like he’s biting back a curse.

“You’re—fuck—you’re wrapped around me so tight,” he mutters, almost to himself. “So goddamn wet.”

He pulls back—not far—and then pushes in again, slower this time, letting you feel the entire stroke.

Your jaw drops. Your breath stutters. His grip shifts lower, kneading at your thighs now—thick, plush, spreading just for him.

“That’s it…” he coos, lips brushing your cheek. “You take me so fucking well.”

You feel everything. The press. The weight. The stretch. And he’s deep. So deep.

You whimper into his neck, and he keeps going—praising you, rambling, sounding like he’s drunk on every squeeze of your cunt.

“You’re made for this, you know that?”

“Sitting at your little desk every day looking so sweet—so soft—had me fucking aching.”

“You don’t even know what you’ve been doing to me…”

You clutch at his shirt now, pulling him flush to you—skin to fabric. Your blouse-covered tummy soft against his stomach, his shirt riding up just a bit. Your thighs bracket his hips, needy and open.

“Sir—”

That nearly breaks him. His hips stutter forward and he groans, face buried at your throat, his hands tightening on your waist like you’re the only thing holding him to earth.

“God, you feel so good,” he grits. “So warm—so fucking perfect.”

You’re soaked around him. Still fluttering. Still stretched and trembling and so full. He fucks in deeper, slower—like he’s trying to savor every slick squeeze, every flutter of your soft body wrapped around his cock.

“You don’t know what it’s like,” he breathes into your neck. “Coming into this office every goddamn day wanting to ruin you.”

His hips roll again.

You can feel him everywhere. Your tummy flutters with every slow thrust, and your moans shake as you cling tighter to him—your nose buried near his ear.

“I’m never gonna forget how this feels,” he whispers. “You, like this—around me.”

He rasps out, breath trembling. “Fuck, sweetheart—you’re gonna break me.”

You’re close. He can feel it—your body fluttering around him, tighter, warmer, soaked with every slow roll of his hips.

“That’s it,” he murmurs, voice ragged. “That’s it, baby…”

He draws back and thrusts deep again, hips grinding into yours, the soft curve of your belly pressing flush to his abdomen. His hands grip at your thighs, your waist—anywhere he can touch—sinking into the warmth, the give of your body, pulling you down onto him like he wants you to stay there.

“You gonna cum for me, sweetheart?” he breathes, nose brushing your cheek. “Gonna fall apart just like this?”

Your walls clamp down around him and Bruce grunts—deep in his chest—still holding your hips, still fucking you through it like he can’t stop, won’t stop until he’s wrung every last flutter out of you. His cock twitches inside you, hot and thick.

“That’s it,” he pants. “That’s my girl. Just like that.”

Your body trembles—legs shaking, thighs pressing to his sides—and he groans at the way your cunt tightens around him. He barely slows—just enough to lock his hips deep, deep inside you—his voice breaking on a moan as he buries his face against your cheek.

“You’re gonna make me—fuck, baby, I’m gonna cum—”

His hips stutter against yours, thick inside you. He angles deeper, hitting that soft spot again, and your body arches, a gasp ripping from your throat. The heat bubbling in your lower stomach coils tighter—white and pulsing, about to detonate.

You’re a babbling mess. “Sir—Mr. Wayne—” Another gasp hits you like a wave. “Bruce—”

That does it.

A guttural groan tears from him. His fingers, probably leaving bruises on your plush hips, thrust deeper. Your hands bury in his hair. His name spills from your lips over and over. And it absolutely undoes him.

His hips stutter again, slower now, dragging out every last flicker of sensation from you. And when he presses into that spot one more time, it breaks you.

Your body tightens around him. The orgasm hits—hard—white heat pulsing through your veins, your back arching, thighs clenching around his waist. A breathless cry escapes you as you fall apart completely.

He groans as you squeeze around him, his own release chasing yours. A low, wrecked sound spills from his throat as he buries himself to the hilt, pulsing deep, warmth spilling inside you. His forehead drops to yours, damp hair sticking to his skin, chest heaving.

For a while, it’s just the sound of your breathing. Both of you wrecked. Sweaty. Trembling. Tangled in sheets and each other. You close your eyes, still catching your breath, and feel his hand brush over your thigh—gentle, almost absent-minded.

“You okay?” he asks, voice rough from use.

You nod against him, soft. “Yeah.”

Bruce exhales slowly, like something in him loosens at your answer. His forehead stays pressed to yours for a moment longer, eyes closed, before he finally shifts—carefully. He draws back, pulling out of you with a hiss between his teeth. He stills the moment your body jolts at the sensitivity, a large hand cupping the back of your thigh to ground you.

“Easy,” he murmurs.

You breathe out a shaky laugh, eyelids fluttering. “I’m fine.”

“Still,” he mutters.

He slips off his suit jacket—crumpled somewhere on the floor—and grabs a clean handkerchief from the inside pocket. It’s monogrammed. Of course it is. He’s quiet as he cleans you up—not rushed, not clinical. Just… gentle. Attentive in a way that makes your throat tighten.

When he’s done, he reaches for your underwear, sliding it back up your legs slowly, then smooths your skirt down, fingers lingering more than they need to. He doesn’t say anything. But there’s something reverent in the way he does it. Like this is more than just habit. Like you’re more than just a distraction.

He stands, tucks himself back into his slacks, fastens his belt with a sharp click, then glances down at you—still half-draped over your desk, body spent.

“Come on,” he says, offering his hand. “I’m taking you home.”

You blink. “But I still have to finish—”

“No.”

His voice leaves no room for argument, but it’s not unkind. “You’re done for today. You’re off tomorrow. I’ll handle everything else.”

“Bruce—”

He leans down, kisses your forehead like it’s something he’s wanted to do for a long time. His hand smooths your hair back, eyes searching yours.

“Let me take care of you.”

And for once… you let him.

So...how we feeling..? First time writing for Dc.. hopefully I dont get a stake to the heart for this.. Also dont tell me if its bad, let me cringe later.

-The Intern

[sweetiecutie]

Part eight: first time/virginity loss~ 🩷 Kinktober Masterlist 🩷

Pairing: John Price x fem! Reader

Warnings: NSFW, mdni, virginity loss, fingering, unprotected sex (don’t do that), fluff and soft, I don’t like the ending but dunno how to fix it

- You came to me like a smart girl that you are, made me so proud, - John murmured against your ear as two of his thick fingers were working your pussy open, stretching it out to fit his girthy cock inside. His thumb never stopped rubbing the swollen nub of your clit, causing your mouth to fall open in silent moan, your nipples pebbling up at the intensity of newfound pleasure.

- Yeah, you came to a real man who would treat you so good, not some stupid frat boy who’d fuck you in the back sit of his car and then act like nothing ever happened, - Price kept on whispering, placing small kisses on your temple and hairline in between each word, his beard tickling you slightly, adding to sweet sensation. Your wide teary eyes looked up right into his, making John’s heart skip a bit - how pretty you looked underneath him, so soft and sprawled out on his sheets; how those doe eyes sparkled, gazing at him with so much trust and need, how your puffy lips formed a perfect little pout, melting every bone in his massive body into mush.

John leant in, connecting his lips to yours in a slow sloppy kiss; skilled tongue sliding along your lower lip before slipping into the warmth of your mouth, nose bumping against your cheek. Price gladly swallowed a small squeal you let out as he added third finger inside of your cunny, pumping them in and out slowly, smiling into the kiss as you started buckling your hips up ever so slightly, matching the pace of his hand. Man hummed approvingly as he felt your small hands trailing down his chest and sides, clumsily trying to caress his burly body - your touch is tentative and unfirm, but oh how much John enjoyed your eagerness to please.

- You think you’re ready to take me? - John asked after breaking the kiss, his lips mere centimetres away from yours, piercing eyes gazing right into your soul. You nodded rapidly, mouthing small yeses. - That won’t do. Use your big girl words, hm?

- I want you inside of me, - you uttered under your breath, bright pink dusting your cheeks and ears, heart humping rapidly inside of your chest at the realisation of what was about to happen.

- Love, it’s no pressure. You say stop and we stop, get it? - Price said, his voice sounding as serious as ever, startling you slightly by the sudden change. You nodded in agreement, nibbling on your bottom lip as John slipped his fingers out of your hole, making you feel so cold and empty. - Now clean my fingers f’me.

You obliged happily, opening your mouth and taking three of Price’s fingers inside, soft tongue swirling around rough fingertips, tasting your soury essence off his skin. You watched with immense interest as John undid the button and a zipper of his cargo pants one handed, tugging them down to his knees. His cock, once free from confines of black boxers, sprung up to his stomach, standing tall and proud and incredibly thick. You gaped, glancing up at your lover in confusion - will that thing even fit in? John chuckled, satisfied with your reaction, taking his digits out of your mouth and pulling your hips closer to himself.

- Don’t worry doll, I’ll be as gentle as ever, - he reassured, wrapping wet with your saliva fingers around his thick shaft, pumping it a few times.

John aligned thick cockhead to your fluttering entrance, causing your breathing to hit hitch in excitement. First stroke was slow and smooth, forcing about one third of Price’s cock inside of you. The stretch burnt, but John did good job earlier, working you open on his fingers, slowly easing you into taking the whole thing. After a few long moments he continued, slowly pumping his hips back and forth, sheathing more and more of his length with each new stroke.

First small moan fell from your lips, John’s cock stretching your pussy to its limits, but his thumb caressing your clit relentlessly made it so much easier to handle. Your tits bounced with each slow thrust, making it impossible for Price to resist grabbing them and playing with your perked up nipples.

- Fuuuuck, you’re so perfect for me. My perfect little girl, all mine, forever mine, - John groaned out, holding you so tenderly, his brain barely functioning at the feeling of your rippling heat wrapping so snugly around his throbbing cock, bringing him to the edge embarrassingly quickly.

Your hands grabbed Price’s wrists for some kind of grounding; initial pain started dissipating slowly, giving place to warm pleasure to suffuse you. Your clit was throbbing. unused to such close attention, back arching up at the intensity of the feeling.

- John, I think I’m gonna- your words broke off as a sudden wave of pleasure crashed over you, washing away all the remnants of thoughts that still were in your head. Pure ecstasy was pumping through your veins, making you shake and tremble in your lover’s firm hands, clamping down onto his thick cock, bringing him closer to his own high.

- That’s it doll. Just like that, cum on my cock, make that pussy cream for me baby, - Price muttered above you, his stomach muscles flex upon feeling you clench around his needy leaking cock. But his hips never stopped, fucking you into and through your high, not planning on stopping anytime soon. Not until John showed you how much pleasure a really good sex may bring<3

[personasintro]

Mutual Help | #14

𝐛𝐚𝐧𝐧𝐞𝐫 𝐜𝐫𝐞𝐝𝐢𝐭: @kithtaehyung

↳ 𝐬𝐲𝐧𝐨𝐩𝐬𝐢𝐬; in order for you to pretend to be his girlfriend, he helps you with your sexual desires ⏤ he calls it mutual help

⇢ 𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: jungkook x reader

⇢ 𝐠𝐞𝐧𝐫𝐞: fake dating au, fluff, angst, smut, slow burn

⇢ 𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: explicit language, mature content

⇢ 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 6.9k+

⇠ 𝐩𝐫𝐞𝐯. | 𝐢𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐱 | 𝐧𝐞𝐱𝐭 ⇢ 

The front door is shut with Jungkook's leg, his hands too busy fiddling with your dress as he tries to feel you up through the red material. Your mouths are occupied with kissing each other, tingling from the amazing sensation.

You're not quite sure how this all started.

One minute you were stressing over Hoseok on the way to Jungkook's home, whispering furiously to him so the driver couldn't hear you. The next your pretended boyfriend assured you Hoseok won't be a trouble anymore, shutting you with his mouth before you followed his slow but intense kisses.

"We're in a cab, Kook." you reminded him as soon as he pulled away, not too much though. Just enough to catch a breath before he went for another kiss.

"Relax, he's probably seen a lot worse." he said, not giving you a chance to respond or protest. And you went with it, because your dignity wasn't as important as Jungkook's lips were.

The only time when you weren't kissing was when the driver pulled in front of Jungkook's apartment building, while he paid him and helped you to get out of the car. When he did, his hand stayed placed on your lower back as he ushered you inside. Those five minutes in front of the elevator were intense, you both wondering who's going to make the first move. But as soon as that elevator door opened and you stepped in, Jungkook clicked the button on his floor before you both threw yourselves at each other. Your back collided with the elevator wall and you gasped, giving him a perfect opportunity to sneak his tongue in.

And here you are now.

"Jungkook," you whisper, feeling his breath ghosting against your neck.

"Hm?" he hums, sucking your skin there, the tips of his fingers grazing over your exposed thigh.

"I want you." you mumble, nails tracing his exposed collarbones as you wish he'd just take off the goddamn shirt, so you could see his perfectly tanned and soft skin.

"I want you too." he admits, your heart clenching at those words. It's something how he says it, so effortlessly and honestly. He makes you feel wanted without even realizing it.

He dives back for a kiss, tongue swiping across your bottom lip just to bite down on it. Not too harsh, just enough to make you groan both in surprise and lust. You can taste the little of alcohol he had on his lips, and you're certain your own match to his. Surprisingly, you sobered a bit during the ride, whether it was a shock of Jungkook kissing you in a cab where the driver just pretended he didn't hear your lips smooching against each other, or simply of you getting some fresh air.

Although, you're choosing the first reason.

"I want you to fuck me." you say bluntly, staring at his doe and dark eyes which soaks into your own.

His throat bobs at your words, bottom lip clutched between his teeth before he lets it go. "I wanna fuck you too," he says, "But are you sure? We both drank a bit."

Your senses are a little bit slowed down and if it weren't for Jungkook's mouth, your movements would be way lazier than they're now. But you're nowhere near drunk, knowing exactly what you want. And that is Jungkook fucking you.

"Do I look drunk?"

"No," he answers, but still making sure he keeps his eyes on you, checking your expression. "You're cutely affected by alcohol."

Giggling, you shake your head at him, seeing his mouth spreading to a wide grin. "What does that even mean?"

He takes a step closer to you, caging you between the wall and his body again. You can smell his cologne, wondering how he can smell so amazing after hours of being at the wedding and dancing. He clutches your jaw, surprising you by his rough movements as he turns your head to the side, exposing your neck to him. And you expect him to kiss you there, but he doesn't.

"That means," he starts, licking his bottom lip which you failed to see. "that you've stopped drinking just at the right time. Otherwise, I don't think I'd fuck you if you were drunk, especially if it's our first time."

Our first time.

This man is trying to ruin you, and he's completely clueless about it.

"So, are you planning to do it or are you just going to talk about it?" you ask, almost whimpering when his hold on your jaw tightens. He presses his nose against your jaw, inhaling as he chuckles.

"Keep talking and you're going to regret it."

Your core clenches, breath hitching which he hasn't failed to notice.

"Or what?" you press, stomach bubbling with anticipation of what his answer might be.

"Don't tempt me, sweetheart."

"I think I'll risk it." you smirk, amused by those darkened eyes that gives you an intimidating look, sending a rush of shivering down your spine but you don't let it show.

Provoking Jungkook has always been fun. Well, you never really provoked him in this kind of situation. But you find yourself feeling much more thrill and fun doing it now. You want to push his buttons, see what kind of exact person he is when he's clouded with lust and excitement. You managed to see a tiny bit of his dominating persona during the time when he went down on you. Maybe it's the natural curiosity that's rooted deeply inside of you, but you just can't wait to see him during sex. He seems like a person who likes to handle others, showing them what he's capable of. Just the thought of him being rough with you makes your legs tremble. Again.

The growl that erupts from Jungkook's throat is unexpected, before you're being turned around by his rough hands, chest colliding with the cold wall of his corridor. He pushes himself against you, hands groping your ass as your own are sprawled against the plain white wall. He gives you a perfect opportunity to feel his hardening length against the black slacks he wears. Your bottom lip is caged between your teeth, a single memory of his cock in your mouth makes you salivate, and it leaves you whimpering.

"I told you not to tempt me," he spits, lips brushing against your right ear. "But you like to disobey just for the sake of your fun, don't you?" he chuckles, but it's not one of those cute and bubbly ones he usually makes. This one's dark, low and amused at the same time.

You've seen so many different sides of Jungkook, but you barely get to see this one. Which is understandable, he's your best friend after all. Best friend who you have never had any sexual encounters with before. But this is different. This is like the same Jungkook you know, but he's like another person at the same time. It's confusing.

"Jungkook," you whimper, pushing your ass against his bulge causing him to chuckle at you.

"Are you being a needy slut for me?" he asks, letting the question settle into the air as he waits for your response.

He tenses behind you, maybe in fear that he crossed the line with you by calling you a slut. You're surprised yourself, and you never liked the whole degrading thing or someone calling you a bitch for pleasure. However, even though he just called you a slut, there wasn't an ounce of actual seriousness or that he meant it literally, despite how serious he sounded.

Just when a whiny and breathless 'yes' leaves your mouth, it's just enough for him to relax and continue with what he started. The tips of his fingers brush against your thigh, hiking up the dress as his hand disappears underneath it. Your whole body shivers automatically, leaving you speechless of how lack of control you've got over your body.

He traces the hem of your lacy panties, humming in appreciation and before you can dwell on how it sends another set of shivers down your spine, he's hooking finger exactly where your clothed heat is. Your body jumps backwards when he touches your clit, tracing your wet heat with gentle and slow movements. Your ass hits his hardening bulge, and this time you get to feel it more prominent and hardened. This turns him on exactly like it does to you.

He groans, teeth nibbling on your shoulder before he circles your clit. "So nice and wet. All for me, baby?"

Your heat clenches, desperate to feel something inside of you. All you can think of is how Jungkook's cock is going to feel inside of you. Is it going to hurt? You remember how you barely took him in your mouth, feeling the corners of your mouth being stretched for a couple of more minutes after you were done. Not that you regret it, it was worth every second.

When the palm of Jungkook's hand meets your ass cheek, you gasp into the wall. He doesn't have to say anything for you to understand what it was for.

"Yes, all for you." you confirm, voice slightly shaking.

Gasping, you moan right after he enters you with one finger kissing your shoulder. He slowly pulls out, before he enters you with slow strokes leaving you gasping all over again. He adds another one, praising you for being a good girl. You clench around him and he chuckles, but doesn't comment on it.

"That's it, gotta stretch you out." he says, voice raspier than before as he adds another one.

He's stretching you more than at the beginning, and you can feel the stretch slightly burn but it doesn't feel bad. You take his fingers well, clenching around his fingers no matter how many times he tells you to relax. You can't, it feels to good and if he continues with the slow strokes, you're cumming soon.

As if he could sense that, he slaps you with his other hand, chuckling when you moan out loud. It's almost too loud, but there's no time to be embarrassed over the fact you like being spanked. He curls his fingers, circling your clit with a thumb while he palms the sensitive flesh of your ass.

"So dirty, I didn't know you love to be spanked so much." he muses, an amused tone laced in his raspy voice.

If your mind weren't clouded with so much lust and eagerness to reach your end, you'd roll your eyes at him and tell him to fuck off. It's nice to know your thoughts are still the same, even when he's fingers deep inside of you.

The feeling of how perfect the pace is isn't long lasting, especially when he picks up his pace and pumps you with his fingers much more eagerly. He praises you each time he thrusts them into you, mainly calling you a good girl or baby.

A simple 'fuck' leaves Jungkook's mouth when he feels you clenching even more, tightening around his three long digits. But still, he manages to keep up the pace just the same, bringing you closer to your end. Just as you feel like that's it, you're cumming, it fades with a snap of fingers in a second. The amazing burn nestled in your womb and between your legs is long forgotten, a sigh of disappointment coming from you in response. It takes you a few seconds to understand what has just happened.

Jungkook pulled out his fingers, causing you to slowly turn around with flushed cheeks and an irritated expression which is understandable. But the young man just grins, slowly bringing his fingers into his mouth as he tastes you.

You gasp, staring at him with mouth agape as his eyes don't leave you.

"Mhm," he almost moans, tongue swirling against his fingers before he pulls them out with a soft pop.

"Why would you stop?" you ask breathlessly.

"I told you not to tempt me. Consider this as your punishment." he shrugs, lips twitching with a hidden smirk which you clearly notice as you huff a breath of annoyance.

"Are you serious?"

Punishments. You never talked about that. Plus, you thought your punishment was him manhandling you and spanking your ass. Now that you think about it, it doesn't make sense.

"Absolutely." he answers confidently.

"But I was about to cum!" you exclaim, not believing he just cut off your orgasm like that. It's called betrayal!

"Oh, I know. I could feel you tightening."

Instead of feeling embarrassed by his blunt words, and the fact your best friend says them to you, you're more annoyed. You were so close. You could feel how bomb orgasm that would be. But no, Jeon Jungcock decides to change that just for pure fun and punishment.

"Whatever. I'll just take care of myself then." you huff once again, making sure he gets a perfect glimpse of your pissed off expression.

You're ready to walk away from him, planning to bump into his shoulder just to emphasize your annoyance. But before you can even take another step, he's grabbing your wrists and pulls you closer to him.

"Where do you think you're going?" he asks lowly, eyes boring into yours.

You don't let it phase you, although you can't feel your heart jumping at the sudden intimidating tone and look.

"To take care of myself. Since someone decided to punish me." Okay, that was kind of petty but you're pissed.

It pisses you even more when Jungkook snorts, his serious facade cracking as he starts to laugh at you. "Awh, are you mad baby?"

"Don't call me baby. You don't get that privilege anymore." you murmur, causing him to laugh again.

"And what privilege do I get?" he challenges you, cocking his brow at you.

"You can stand behind the door and listen to my moans." you answer dryly, knowing very well that you're not able to make yourself cum just using your fingers. It just won't work for you.

"As tempting as it sounds, I'd rather fuck you." he tells you, slowly reaching for your face before he kisses you. And you let him.

Your lips tingle from the rough kisses he delivers, making sure you feel his want and need towards you. Mind still twirling over the fact he said he wants to fuck you, and no matter how many times he has already said it, it bursts that bubble of arousal inside of you. Maybe it's because you haven't had sex for so long, or maybe because you haven't been touched this way — ever.

It should be weird you're so turned on over your best friend touching you this way, wanting to fuck you. But you're not. All you can think of is how amazing he's going to feel once he's inside of you. Jungkook swallows your every breath, before he's forced to pull away.

Smirking at you, he interweaves your fingers as he leads you towards his bedroom. You take that time to admire his muscular back and broad shoulders, the white shirt doing his body justice, not that he needs it.

Jungkook pushes the door from his bedroom open, leading you straight towards his bed as he turns around before he spins you, gently pushing you down his bed.

You help in surprise, giggling when your body funnily bounces, causing the corner of his lips to turn upwards as a soft chuckle leaves his mouth. He starts to loosen his red tie, eyes focused on you the entire time meanwhile you gulp at the filthy sight in front of you.

Fuck, how can somebody be so hot?

Plopping yourself on your elbows, you watch him taking the tie off but he doesn't throw it like you expect him to. It stays in his hands for a few seconds, twirling it between his fingers as he looks through his cocked brow at you. He tosses it at the end of the mattress, before starting to unbutton his shirt.

Licking your lips, you shamelessly watch him and almost disappointedly whine when he doesn't unbutton nor take it off entirely. If he sees your reaction, he doesn't comment on it but the confident smirk is just enough for you to know he noticed it.

He slowly makes his way towards you, knees plopping himself right next to your legs before he's hovering over you. You tilt your head slightly upwards, enough to see his close features before he kisses you again. This time it's slower, more passionate and leaves you breathless all over again. He urges you to completely lay down, your elbows betraying you as your back and head is met with the mattress again. He sits down on his knees, staring down at you with dark eyes and you almost raise yourself again, but before you can give him a glance of curiosity, you're turned around.

It all happens quick, one second you feel his arms around your waist and the next you're turned over to your stomach. A loud gasp escapes your mouth, your head already turned around to look at Jungkook. He just cockily smirks at you, fingers hovering over the zipper of your dress. He lets his finger scheme over your shoulder blades, gently caressing your exposed skin that makes you shiver underneath his touch.

"Do you really want this?" he asks, voice calm and relaxed like he's not ready to devour you whole.

You notice the sudden change of atmosphere, his tone serious yet soft. He's making sure you really made up your mind. He sees the way you patiently wait for him to touch you, leaving you pressing your thighs together. He's responsible for the ache between your legs. He sees it all, yet he needs to hear you say it again.

"Of course, I do." you answer, making sure you stare into his eyes which is quite troublesome since he's right behind you and caging you with his knees on both your sides.

He doesn't react verbally, all he does in response is slowly unzipping your dress while you press your cheek against his sheets, loving how flowery they smell. The room's temperature isn't low, yet it leaves you shivering when the cold air meets your naked back.

"No bra?" Jungkook questions, not hiding a mere surprise.

"This dress doesn't need it." you breathe out, your voice slightly muffled.

Again, he doesn't react verbally but you're shocked, gasping when he pulls your ass up. It leaves you on all fours, the dress slowly falling down your arms.

"Turn around." he demands, and you obey right away.

He chuckles, not wasting time with undressing you before you're left in your panties and heels. He leaves your dress on the floor, not bothering to properly place it somewhere less dirty, even though Jungkook's home is cleaner than yours. He doesn't care they can crinkle if they're tossed on the floor, and neither is it your priority.

All you can focus on is feeling his hands working on your heels, taking them off before he finally frees your ankles and the tight strap around it. Once he's done, he hovers over you again, pressing his lips against your stomach and slowly making his way up your chest. Your perked nipples don't go unnoticed by him, his doe eyes looking up at you before he takes one of your nipples into his mouth. Arching your back, you gasp while he swirls his tongue against it. The other one is occupied by his hand, molding the soft flesh in his huge palm. He does the same thing to the other one, his lips reddened when he's done. Your nipples look just the same, reddened with the attention they just received while still covered in his saliva. You shiver, meeting his eyes as he licks his lips.

You lean forward, kissing him while your arms wrap around his neck pulling his body even closer to yourself. He grunts into your mouth, arms holding himself as he tries not to crash you with his weight. Legs wrapped around his waist, you thrust your hips upwards making the two of you gasp. He's already getting hard, the bulge in his black slacks says it all.

You're remembered by the fact he's still fully dressed and you don't like that. Your hands already work on their own, unfastening his belt and zipper with needy and quick movements.

Jungkook's smirk is evident against your lips, but he doesn't comment on your sudden eagerness, if anything, he seems to like it as he lets you take off his slacks. He helps you take them fully, meanwhile your fingers work on his shirt. You've never hated buttons before. Just like with the slacks, he helps you take off his shirt too and slides it off his arms exposing his abs and buffed chest.

If you were turned on before, you're completely salivated over him now. He tosses it behind him, hitting the desk in the corner of his room making you giggle. He chuckles, hovering over you again before he's kissing you. You take that chance to feel his muscular back, nails gently scratching his soft skin as he grunts into your mouth.

"I want to—" he kisses you again, "fuck me." you finish, hands slowly sliding down his perky ass.

"Are you sure you're ready?" he asks, and you cock your head in confusion.

He's asking you that now? Again? You thought you're pretty clear that you want him. But once he sees your confusion and that cute frown you're about to sport, he explains himself.

"No, I meant— shouldn't I stretch you out more?"

Ah, he means that. 

"Don't flatter yourself, Jeon. You're not that big."

Oh, yeah he is. Definitely bigger than your ex. But who would you be if you didn't take the opportunity to bruise his male ego.

"Really?" he asks, his brows mockingly shooting up. "Weren't you choking on my cock just a few days ago?" he cocks his head innocently, but you see his fake facade.

He's enjoying this, even when you open your mouth and dryly swallow the lump in your throat.

"Fuck, you're so cute when you're getting flustered." he comments, laughing while he scrunches his nose.

Rolling your eyes, you decide it's better not to argue with him. You know he's right about you choking on his cock, you're not stupid. "Whatever," you murmur.

"And to answer your question, no. Just fuck me, I'm ready." you assure him, licking your lips while he eyes you.

He nods, reaching towards the nightstand before he opens the first drawer. He pulls out the foil package and rips it open. Since you're feeling bold tonight, you reach for his length, hand disappearing in his boxers where you finally feel him. He bites onto his lower lip, taking them off while you start to pump him. He's hardening with each pump, kissing you as your hands work their magic on him.

He pulls away and you watch him putting on a condom.

The sight of him doing something so intimate feels exactly that. Intimate, close and exhibit. You've never thought nor imagined you'd ever get this close to him. This is so new to you, just thinking that he's about to have sex with you drives you crazy. You've never thought you'd crave for him this certain way.

Of course, there were many times when your heart was craving for him. In a friendly way when you were in desperate need of a friend. But it wasn't just that. You needed him, Jungkook. No matter how many girl friends you've or can have, nothing ever compares to him. There were times when you felt like you're the one who needs your friendship more than him. You don't doubt Jungkook's friendship, of course not. It just often felt like it's you who values your friendship in more ways than Jungkook could ever imagine. Maybe that's why it hurt when he moved on with Kiko and barely got the time to text you, or even spend time with you.

Jungkook's fingers trail to your exposed legs, snapping you out of your thoughts. It's unreal how he brings you back to reality with a single touch, those soft but dark eyes of his dancing on your face.

"It's still not too late to back out," he tells you softly, caressing your skin like he's not talking about the possibility of ending this. "If you've got any doubts, maybe this isn't what we should do."

"Are you regretting getting this far, Jeon?" you ask, your voice neutral, yet the use of his surname  comes out almost cold.

His eyes flicker to yours right away and he quickly shakes his head, before he allows himself to talk. "No, of course not. I want this, if you couldn't tell." he snorts at the end, looking down to his hard length that's pressing against his stomach.

Focus, Y/N!

You look back at him, poking your inner cheek with a tongue before you sigh. "We both already did some intimate things. Don't you think that if I wanted to back out, I wouldn't allow all those things to happen?" you ask him softly, eyes filled with curiosity and a small frown settling on your brows.

"I'm just making sure," he mumbles, dropping those dark eyes for a moment while you're met with Jungkook that looks completely innocent. "I don't want you to regret anything. This is our friendship we're talking about. That's the most important thing."

If you weren't so freaking horny, you'd probably tear up from the honesty and softness of his words. He really is thoughtful.

"I want this, Kook. I don't think this will change our friendship. If me sucking you off and you eating me out hasn't, I don't think us having sex will. We're just young adults who need to blow some steam off, let's not overthink it too much."

He nods, agreeing with you as he bites his lower lip in thought. "Okay, because you're my best friend but you're fucking attractive and hot. And all I can think about is fucking you." he admits bluntly, causing you to gasp at his sudden words but you giggle.

You trace your hand down his chest, appreciating how firm it feels. "Good," you gulp, "Because that's all I'm thinking about right now."

Jungkook grunts, hovering over you before he kisses you again. His mouth works quick and needy, nibbling on your bottom lip to show you his desire while you're trying not to moan. It's almost pathetic how quick he makes you be so responsive and loud.

"Ready?" he asks between the kisses, his hand going between his legs as he pumps himself.

You can feel your heart in the throat, this feeling awfully similar to your first sex. That excitement and the feeling of experiencing something new, even though it's just sex. Minus the awkwardness and nervousness, of course. You really wonder how he's going to feel. Something tells you he's perfect in bed, no doubts. Just him eating you out made you see stars and brought one of the best orgasms you've ever experienced.

"Ready." you tell him, breath hitching in your throat as soon as you feel his tip parting your folds.

He takes his time, not entering you right away but making sure he smears the wetness between your legs to your clit and his tip. He stares down, brows pinched together and bottom lip tucked between his teeth, looking focused and almost as if he's savoring every moment.

Eyes flickering to yours, he releases his bottom lip as he spreads your legs wider. Giving him a soft smile, hand placed over his beating hard, you're surprised how fast it beats. It matches your own heartbeat, but somehow it leaves a peaceful feeling inside your heart. It's nice to know he's affected as much as you are.

With a careful and slow push, he enters you for the first time, taking into account that it's been awhile since you've had sex. The last thing he wants is to rush and possibly hurt you, just because he's impatient and horny.

Swallowing down the gasp that wants to escape from the back of your throat, you close your eyes and try to relax as much as possible. Luckily, Jungkook seems to be patient and he's still trying to fill you up at an incredibly slow pace. He even stops, checking your reactions with each push and inch he makes.

"Relax, I'm not gonna hurt you." he groans, but still manages to sound soft and genuine. It takes a lot for him not to thrust into you.

Jungkook hasn't been sexually active with anyone, the last person he had sex with was Kiko, his ex-girlfriend. That means you're not the only one who's been without sex for quite some time, even though Jungkook wasn't left high and dry for that long.

"I know." you breathe out, reacting to Jungkook's words. You know all of that, but the sudden stretch and slight burn you feel is unavoidable. There's nothing you can do and your body just has to get used to it.

Although, it seems like Jungkook wants to help when he starts to circle your clit. You suck in breath, your walls relaxing and taking more of him almost immediately.

"That's it," he praises you, continuing with it until he's all nestled inside of you.

He holds himself, still careful not to crash you underneath his weight as he lets you get used to him inside of you. It feels weirdly new, almost as if you forgot how dick inside of you feels like.

"You took me so well." he grunts, his length twitching inside of you before he gives you a sheepish look, like he's apologizing for being so needy and greedy.

"Fuck me, Kook." you murmur, your walls clenching around his thick length as he opens his mouth at the feeling. Wrapping your arms around his neck, you pull him closer as you feel the ends of his soft yet thick hair.

"I'm gonna go slow at first, okay?" he asks, although you both know he wouldn't have it any other way. Even if you tried to argue with him, you don't because his reason and decision is understandable and all about you, he'd still do it his way to make sure you're comfortable.

Nodding, he's pulling out of you, a soft breathes leaving his mouth before he slowly pushes his cock inside you. He's restraining himself so much, his face twisted in almost painful expression. Legs wrapped around his frame, heels digging into his lower back, you pull him even closer causing him to get even deeper inside of you.

"You're not making this any easier, you know that?" he chuckles, shaking his head as he still continues with his soft and slow thrusts.

Your giggle is short-lived, especially when his length rubs around a very sensitive spot inside of you, a moan rippling out of your mouth. He stops, adjusting himself before he does it again.

"Stop," you gasp, causing him to freeze and look at you. "I don't wanna cum yet."

"Would you cum right away if I continued?" he asks curiously.

In other situations, you'd probably cackle at the fact you're having a full conversation during your sex. But all you can do is nod in embarrassment.

"Well, maybe not right away but I was getting there." you point out, causing him to chuckle amusingly at you. It causes you to slap his back but he doesn't seem to be too phased, your weak attempt to scold him doing no harm.

"Do you want me to stay still like this or...?" he trails off, causing you to snort at the absurd situation.

You can't believe you're about to laugh in the middle of sex, but Jungkook's distressed expression is priceless.

"No," you laugh, "just fuck me already."

He relaxes, even though he tries to hide it, before he gives you one of his famous grins. "Your wish is my command."

Before you can snort or react in any way at his funny words and the teasing tone, he's already pulling out before he smacks his hips back. It leaves you breathless, almost knock all the oxygen out of your lungs as he repeats the same process over and over again. Your heated skin meets his with each thrust, creating swift and rhythmic melody and just when you think it can't get better, he lifts your legs up and places them over his shoulders.

"Fuck," you breathe out, ignoring the cocky smirk he tries to hide again by staring at your connected bodies.

He fucks you like no one ever has, bringing you an euphoric feeling that you can't seem to get enough of. It feels too good to be real and embarrassingly enough, you've never known that sex could feel this amazing. Jungkook's skills are over the top, triumphing over your ex in all ways. However, with Jungkook's unstoppable thrusts there is no time to think about your ex or anyone else.

"Fuck, you're taking me so well, baby." Jungkook groans above you, head falling between your shoulder and neck, burying his face there.

You shiver, feeling his body pressed against you, his hot skin against your makes the whole atmosphere even more intimate. Years of knowing him, you've never felt this close to him.

"Jungkook," you moan, eyes rolling back when he purposely rub his length against that one sensitive spot he found minutes ago.

He knows what he's doing, and you can perfectly feel that little smirk he always has on his lips but surprisingly, he gives a peck to your neck before he pulls away.

"Can you get on all fours?" he asks, halting his thrusts as you whine.

You were just getting there.

But Jungkook isn't planning on ending anytime soon and when he sees your disappointment, he laughs at you. "Come on, on all fours and ass up." he tells you, your cheeks heating up at the demanding tone he sets.

He pulls out, leaving you empty and greedy for him. Obeying him quickly, you get on all fours as he requested and you yelp when he presses your back down. It causes your cheek to be pressed against his mattress again, his palm staying on your back for a couple of more seconds before he grabs your hips. He lifts your ass even more, your spine and back arched all for him. He palms your ass, grabbing the flesh into his huge hands before he's entering you all over again.

You gasp, clutching the sheets in small fists and when Jungkook notices this, he reaches for them and interweaves his fingers with yours. His chest is pressed against your back while he starts pounding into you at a completely new pace.

"Jungkook, ah—" you whine, your voice awfully whiny and soft to the point you can't recognize it.

"I know, I know." he grunts, tightening his hold on your fingers as you can feel your walls tightening around his thick and throbbing length.

"Fuck—so good." you moan out, shutting your eyes because you can feel them watering.

"You're gripping me so well," he rasps out, not halting his movements even a bit. "Gonna make you cum so hard." he promises, his small dirty talk causing you to moan again.

His balls slapping against your ass feels euphoric, just like everything right now, and it leaves you breathless and wanting to reach your end. Couple of more thrusts, Jungkook's soft grunts and his length brushing against your g-spot brings you the most incredible orgasm.

Mouth agape, Jungkook's unstoppable thrusts make you cry out his name as you're cumming around him. He fucks you through it, continuing even when you're growing sensitive and you whine at the overstimulation.

"I know, I know. I'm getting there." he grunts, hands grabbing your hips so tight that you're guessing they'll probably bruise later but you don't seem to care.

Clenching around him, it takes a few more pumps before Jungkook suddenly halts his movements and you feel his cock twitch inside of you. He's cumming, filling the condom with his seed and you wish you could feel him more.

And fuck, if Jungkook's low groan of pleasure isn't the hottest thing you've ever heard, you don't know what is.

And even though you've just come down off your high, the sound is enough to shoot a little bit lust straight to your core. Enough to leave you clench around him again, causing him to grunt in response.

His sweaty forehead drops against your naked shoulder, a shallow and quick breaths meeting your skin as he tries to calm himself down. It takes him a few more seconds of breathing in and out at a rapid pace, before his breathing comes back to normal and he slowly lifts his head off you.

"You good?" he asks, holding himself up with his hands when he realizes he almost crushed you with his heavy body.

You don't see him, but he scrunches his nose when he pulls out of you, overstimulation getting overwhelming for the both of you. When he manages to fully pull out, he quickly gets off you and plops himself next to you. You flip yourself on your back, eyes focused on the white ceiling as your chest heaves with almost identical heavy breaths like he did just seconds ago.

"I'm perfect," you answer breathlessly, stealing a glance at your best friend who happily lays down next to you, discarding the used condom. "Are you good?" you ask him in return, watching him grin as he ties the used condom full of his sperm.

"Oh, I'm ecstatic." he beams, standing up and throwing the condom in the bin near his desk.

"Are you always this ecstatic when you get laid?" you chuckle, trying not to let your eyes drop to his crotch that he doesn't even cover. He's shameless, walking completely naked to you while he doesn't even try to cover himself. It's not like you want him to anyway, but he clearly doesn't have any issue with nudity.

"It's been a long time, okay?" he jokes, tossing his body next to you without care, causing the mattress to jiggle under his weight. "Don't tell me you don't think the sex was mind blowing."

He looks at you, eyes dropping to your perked nipples before he looks back into your eyes.

"It was." you shrug, admitting it.

He chuckles, turning onto his side as he traces your lips. It catches you off guard, but you don't even blink while you try to look as natural as possible. You look at him, his hand dropping next to his body.

"This doesn't change anything, right? Our friendship, I mean."

You've to ask him, just to be sure. At first, you were the one who tried to convince him that none of this would affect your friendship.

His brows scrunch together for a short moment before he shakes his head. "No, I don't think so. Do you feel like something changed?" he asks back.

"I don't, but what if I will?" you ask, probably more yourself than Jungkook.

What if everything seems just the same right now but yesterday or in a few weeks, you'll feel like you shouldn't have done that? There's no turning back and you really don't want to regret anything. It's just your mind playing tricks on you. This is your friendship that could possibly be on the line after all.

"Then you'll tell me. I don't think there's nothing we can do. We both agreed to it and it doesn't have to be such a big deal." he shrugs, his voice putting at least some kind of ease to your nerves.

"I know that, I know that we both agreed to it. I really don't wanna sound like I'm already regretting it, because I don't. I don't want you to think that it's your fault or make you feel guilty. That's not my intention at all. It's just... I can't help but wonder if we did the right thing. What if this will fire back in a few weeks, months or years even?"

Your eyes are focused on the ceiling, despite feeling Jungkook's doe eyes silently watching you.

"I think you're overthinking this a lot. Let's just focus on the present. We don't have to have sex anymore. I told you, anything that makes you comfortable." he tells you honestly and softly, causing you to feel like a jerk for some reason.

You're stressing over something nonexistent while Jungkook is there for you and your crazy mind.

"I didn't say that. I still wanna have sex." you point out, causing him to snicker.

When you look at him, you can see the confident and cocky glint in his eyes. That's why you nudge his shoulder, snorting. "Shut up."

He laughs, slowly shaking his head. "Just don't fall in love with me. I know that I can be very irresistible but—"

"Oh, get over yourself, Jeon." you scoff, sitting up as you give him a perfect view of your rolling eyes.

He grins at you, hand touching your exposed back as he caresses your skin. "Never." he jokes, causing you to shake your head at his absurdity.

You just hope the next morning will be just as relaxed like this very moment is. You don't want your friendship to be ruined by lust.

But you'll have to wait until the morning comes.

[pointbreakvhs]

Quiver

A gift I made for @thetomsellecksmoustache 💖

Pairing : Donnie Barksdale x f!reader Genre : smut (NSFW)

Note : Keep in mind I've never seen the movie, so Donnie might not be completely accurate. I’m writing him based on two scenes I watched and the overall vibes he gives off.

Divider made by @enchanthings-a

Donnie pins you against the wall of his living room, his eyes consuming you with a desire that unsettles you. They’re almost soft, laced with a sweetness foreign to you. Your surprised gaze traces his impassive face for seconds. A storm brews in his dark eyes, usually cold, full of hatred for the world or devoid of any feeling. Moments ago, you’re playful, teasing him in a verbal sparring match you both relish. You love pushing his buttons despite his grumbling demeanor and menacing aura. This time, you know you’ve gone too far, but you never expect this. Caught off guard, your heart races, pounding against your chest as his towering frame dwarfs you.

He leans in, his calloused hand grazing your cheek gently, as if afraid to break you. Your reason screams to run, to flee this dangerous man, the town’s “monster,” whose violent outbursts make people tremble. But his thumb lingers on your bottom lip, pressing just enough to send a shiver through you. A shadow of a smirk curls those lips you’ve fantasized about kissing.

“Think you can play with me, darlin’?” he murmurs, voice low and raspy, each word binding you tighter to him.

His warm breath, laced with faint beer and something primal, caresses your face. You try to speak, but words choke in your throat. Your heart pounds so fiercely you’re almost sure he hears it. His gaze never wavers, dissecting every twitch, every sign of weakness.

He steps closer, his broad chest brushing your smaller frame. You’re prey to this wolf, back pressed against the wall. His heat engulfs you, dissolving all sense of space. He’s been distant since you arrived in town, but you come to know the man beneath the ‘monster.’ Now one of his wide hands rests near your head, caging you in.

“You got no idea what you’ve started, sweetheart,” he growls, lips so close to your ear you feel their shadow on your skin.

His hand slides from your cheek to your nape, fingers digging in possessively, yet restrained, driving you wild. He wants to drown in your wide doe-like eyes. With his inner turmoil, he tries to resist the urge to claim you completely right there. But he knows he can’t control it.

Your breath comes in short, ragged gasps. Part of you wants to push him away, to escape this man who could crush you with a single move. But a darker, hungrier part of you craves the abyss he embodies. You lift your eyes, defying his gaze, and something in him snaps in a flash of pure, primal desire. You’re so small next to him, and he drinks it in. His other hand slams the wall beside your head, trapping you further.

“Tell me to stop,” he says, voice shaky, “or I ain’t holdin’ back.” He leans closer, lips grazing the sensitive skin below your ear, a touch so light it makes you flinch. “Say it, darlin’, or I swear, I’m gonna take you right here.”

His hand slips under your shirt, rough palm skimming the soft skin of your waist. You squirm, trapped, your small frame arching into him. He growls, pressing hot-mouthed kisses to the side of your neck before nipping your throat hard, leaving a mark. You moan, feeling your core throb.

“Fuck. Keep makin’ them sounds, bunny,” he warns, fingers dipping lower, bold and unrelenting, “and I ain’t stoppin’.”

Your moan is soft, desperate, and his control shatters as his need to claim every inch of your trembling body consumes him.

*******

It’s raw, the way Donnie defiles you in his bedroom, his sweet little bunny. His rough hands spread your thighs, leaving marks as he drags the tip of his cock through your folds, teasing, torturing you while you whine, desperate for him to take you.

“Please, don’t stop…”

His fat cock head presses against your folds before he slowly thrusts into you, your tight, dripping pussy gripping his thick, veiny cock like a vice. Your slick, velvety walls nearly choke him. You gasp and whimper, the searing pain of his thick girth stretching your quivering pussy. It’s both brutal and depraved, yet you crave it. He’ll never tire of pounding you raw, claiming your body with the relentless rhythm of his hips snapping hard against your ass as you take him on all fours.

“Fuck, bunny, you’re milkin’ me dry with that tight little hole,” Donnie snarls, voice thick with lust.

Your aching hole throbs, struggling to take his fat cock. His heavy balls slap against your quivering thighs with each savage thrust, the wet smacks of flesh echoing through the room.

“So fuckin’ tight,” he growls, fingers tangling in your hair, yanking hard. Each snap of his hips claims you deeper as you lose it. Your pussy clenches, dripping with your nectar and his precum, while your ass cheeks jiggle against the base of his cock.

“Take it all, darlin’,” he orders, pounding harder and enjoying that delicious view. His hand wraps around your neck, possessive. “Mine,” he snarls, driving deeper.

Your pussy spasms, squeezing him as your tits bounce lightly with every snap of his hips. His fingers tease your oversensitive clit, making you shudder and gasp beneath the harsh thrusts. You whine helplessly, waves of pleasure crashing over you.

“Cum for me, now,” he orders.

You shatter, sobbing, heat exploding through you. He roars, cock pulsing as he floods you with hot cum that spills, marking you. You tremble, wrecked. He grinds slowly, owning every inch of your body, pushing his seed deep inside you. Then Donnie pulls out, thick cum dripping down your shaky thighs.

His strong hand gently rests against your back as you lie down on your stomach, against the sheets. He lies down beside you, a slight smirk curling his lips, planting a soft kiss on your forehead.

One of his hands spreads your legs, inspecting his work. A thick finger traces your glistening folds before pushing his cum back inside your fluttering hole. A gasp escapes your swollen lips as his cock throbs again at your reaction.

“Look at that pretty mess, bunny,” he murmurs with a smirk, voice low and thick, his deep chocolate eyes locked on your flushed face. His thumb circles your clit, slow and torturous, overwhelming your senses again.

“Gonna fuck you again,” he promises, eyes feral. You whine weakly, already craving more.

[pixieflu]

mean!rafe fucking your throat after you acted like a brat

cw: smut, dark!rafe, degradation, oral sex (m receiving), face slapping (light), power imbalance.

the car ride home after dinner is dead silent.

your arms are crossed, your bottom lip poking out, and you’re burning with the kind of bratty fury only rafe cameron can drag out of you. because he made you change.

the dress was cute. it was short, yeah, but so what? it’s your body. not his to control.

he’d said, “you wear that out, and i’ll lose my fucking mind.”

you’d snapped back, “maybe that’s the point.”

he didn’t say a single word after that. just pressed his lips tight, gripped the steering wheel hard, and glared out the windshield the whole way to dinner.

you pouted all night. he didn’t even look at you. not once.

by the time you're home, you're over it. done. seething and storming into the bedroom, ripping the earrings from your lobes and flinging them onto the dresser. the necklace, the heels, the dress he made you wear, it all hits the floor in a messy trail behind you.

you stomp to your drawer in just your lace panties and a matching strapless bra, reaching for your pajamas..

but you never make it.

a heavy hand grabs your arm. spins you.

before you can even gasp, rafe’s pushing you back, hard, until the backs of your knees hit the bed and you fall, your legs dangling over the edge.

face lined up perfectly with his belt buckle.

the look in his eyes? lethal.

he doesn’t speak at first. just stares down at you, chest rising slow beneath his button-down. his jaw ticks. his fingers twitch like he’s holding back.

then, he crouches. just enough to lean in and tap your cheek twice. not hard. not soft either.

“cute little attitude you had tonight,” he says lowly, voice like smoke. “got it all out of your system, sweetheart?”

you blink. lips parted. no answer.

wrong move.

he smiles. crooked. mean. that little head tilt that always means trouble.

“now look at you.” his fingers hook under your chin, forcing you to meet his eyes. “can’t even talk. all that fuckin’ mouth earlier and now you’re quiet?”

you squirm, thighs pressing together.

he notices. of course he does.

“shoulda just bent you over and fucked it out of you before dinner,” he mutters, mostly to himself. “but no, princess wanted to push me. wanted to make a scene. wanted to test me.”

your breath hitches when he stands tall again, unbuckling his belt slow, deliberate.

“let’s fix that mouth.”

he pulls his cock out, hard, heavy, flushed. and without another warning, he grips the back of your head, yanks you up by your hair, and shoves it between your lips.

you gag instantly. saliva pools. your eyes water. you dig your nails into his thighs and try to brace yourself.

rafe lets out a groan. a dark, low sound. his hand tightens in your hair as he starts thrusting. slow at first, then deeper, rougher.

“you want to act like a fucking brat,” he growls, fucking your mouth without mercy, “then you’re gonna take it like one.”

you’re choking. he doesn’t care.

“you’re lucky i let you come tonight. lucky i let you sit beside me lookin’ all sweet when you were being a goddamn whore underneath.”

your eyes roll. he groans.

“yeah, you like this. you like when i treat you like the filthy little slut you are.”

when he finishes, hot and messy down your throat, he doesn’t pull away immediately. he holds you there, cock still twitching in your mouth, his thumb wiping tears off your cheeks.

and then, finally, he lets go.

you fall back on the bed, chest heaving. ruined, sticky and wrecked.

rafe doesn’t say “good girl.” he doesn’t coddle. but his hands reach for your thighs, spreading them wide, peeling the panties off like he owns them.

because he does.

"now," he says, undoing the buttons on his shirt, "i’m gonna fuck you stupid. and maybe then, you'll remember who the fuck you belong to."

an: mean!rafe is my favorite >.< if you guys enjoyed this, please like and reblog! i’m running out of ideas, please send requests! 🫶

❤︎- tilly 🐞

[velvet-paradox]

Chaste

Fandom: Call of Duty Pairing: Virgin!König x Female reader Summary: König finally meets his match. Length: Long (idk what's gotten into me with these but you are welcome) Warnings: NSFW, 18+ ONLY, virginity loss, kissing, (protected) p in v, detailed smut. ENJOY!!!

He's panicking.

He can practically hear his hair growing, his pants are too tight, his hands are getting that weird kind of clammy he gets when he's about to take aim. He's beginning to sweat and is currently now wondering if wearing a white button up was the right choice.

He already stands out.

Of course he does. And not just by height alone, not to mention the weight his body carries, how broad his shoulders are. Also the crisp mask that covers his face and drapes around his shoulders is a dead give away. He slouched a little to make room for the chattering couple headed over to get their seats, giving him shy smiles but he knows their whispering about him. Their always whispering about him. Maybe he should just leave, get out of dodge, mention he's not feeling well, which is only partially true.

He's so sick with nerves. His anxiety meter is about explode.

….

Months of talking, letters sent over state, county, and country lines. You even had his SAT phone number just in case! It felt silly at first, he hid the frequent Pen Pal flyer that hung amongst other such distractions at the base. There were plenty of names to choose from with just a sprinkle of information.

Rhys was 26, worked in IT, loves video games. Tegan 32, makes and sells seashell earrings. Statler, 38, enjoyed hiking and the outdoors. Nate, 33, was a fisherman, Trout specificity. His blue eyes scanned the sheet until one name stood out to him for some reason.

He started writing to you immediately and he couldn't seem to stop. After the third letter exchange you gave him your social handles and phone number. God he was so nervous to hit the call button, but he was pleased when you answered after the first ring.

He'd get a tingly feeling in his gut when his civie phone would ping, a well sought out and selected little chime that singled you out from the rest. It took him hours to find just the right sound that not only would remind him of you but one so defined that if he were to hear it he'd jump out of bed immediately. It didn't even have to be a selfie to get him smiling, a simple good morning handsome would suffice.

'How's your day going so far?'

'I'm proud of you.'

'Oh the praise!'

You threw buckets of it at him and he gobbled it up with glee. He was curious how well he could conduct himself in person. Hopefully not bust in his jeans like some degenerate.

He'd be lying if it didn't get him hard though, his thick cock pulsing from your honest affirmations, holding and biting the hem of his shirt as he jerked off.

Coming to the niceties that would fall from your lips.

"Come on, come on. I'm right there, oh you look so cute. Bet you give great hugs, fuck, to feel you against me. Oh god!"

He couldn't help it.

It made him feral, groaning your name only made him work and twist his fist even tighter, even harder. He felt a little guilty though, this was your first time meeting in person and he'd already jerked off to the thought of you twice this week alone.

The theatre was getting filled up rather quickly as he sat at the top, next to the stairs so he could survey the area. It was better to have your back against the wall than to be vulnerable and in sight. Combat has taught him that very early on.

He looked down at his watch, 7:24. The movie was to start soon but where were you? Was this a joke to you, was he the joke? Were you standing him up. Were you out with someone else? Maybe you were ashamed to be seen with the likes of him. Maybe this was a bad idea-

"König!" He looked started until he saw you at the bottom of the stairs, excitedly waving as you ran up the stairs, two at time once you got closer. Excusing yourself to others finding seats. He stood to show you he'd saved you a seat, certainly inot excpecting you to jump at him, into his arms. Luckily for the both of you he's got incredible reflexes.

"You're bigger than I thought!" You exclaimed when he set you down.

Looking over your pretty sundress, with its' delicate floral patterns and pastel shade beneath. Your sneakers were bright and looked fresh right out of the box.

"I get that a lot. Um, here, I have saved you a seat."

"You mean iyou're not my seat?"

Oh dear!

You giggled and told him you were only joking, he wouldn't have minded really but he was unsure how you'd feel about feeling him half-hard already from seeing you, smelling your perfume that he hoped would last throughout the night. Possibly linger on his clothes long after you split.

You wiggled down in the saved spot, looping your arm through his chatting away before the lights dimmed down and the trailers emerged on the screen.

During the film he feels you breathing, wiggling and bumping up against his arm. You're so distracting even though you staring forward and not at him like he's looking at you. You smell so nice, your skin is soft and in the brighter scenes on the screen he can see down the front of your dress. He had to correct himself twice. No fucking staring, big man!

"So! What did you think?" you ask joyfully as you left the theater, still attached to his arm.

He would actually have an answer if he weren't watching you for most of the movie. So he shrugs and gives hopefully a somewhat honest answer.

"I liked it." He didn't have a lack of restriction when you mentioned your favorite movie was getting a long awaited sequel and that it would be in theaters by the time he got back from deployment.

"I think it held up quite nicely, I'm glad they went the route they did. Rumor had it they were just gonna' recycle the same old script and mix some junk in there for flavor. Wait, we didn't get any snacks, you've gotta' be starving, you didn't eat any popcorn or candy!"

" 'm alright, Y/N."

"Are you sure? There's a nice little diner just down the road a bit. I'll even feed you if you want." Your face lights up with a smile and a wink and König is blushing all over beneath his hood. How could he say no to that?

You idid in fact feed him a few bites of your biscuits and gravy, he'd seen it before but was always turned off by the fact he may not enjoy the combination. So he he stuck to his usual soft scramble eggs platter they offered. The gravy wasn't bad.

"So how many dates have you been on? I imagine one sees 'experienced military' gets you a fair share of dinners and phone numbers."

König choked on his coffee under the mask. He set the cup down but kept his hands around the mug for warmth. "Uh… you are actually my first."

"Really? Of the week?" You enquired sweetly.

He shook his head. "Nein."

"Ohhhh of the month?"

Again he shook his head.

"Of the year?" You asked, tilting your head.

"Of forever. You are my first date, officially."

"EVER?!" you quickly covered your mouth and smiled at him across the checkerboard table top. "I'm your first date?! Talk about pressure! Now I really gotta' step up and show you a good time. Can't have you going around destroying my reputation."

His brows creased behind the mask. "You have a reputation?"

"No but it would be pretty neat if I did!" Your laugh made his stomach lurch and for the first time, in a very long time, he might actually be a little happy.

"Are we going for a walk now?" König asked once outside the diner, the air had cooled off a bit which was a relief because your flirting and smiling face was making him hot beneath the collar. Fingers and toes crossed he wasn't visibly sweating.

"Oh. Do you want to?"

"Is that not what you're supposed to do?"

"I mean you can. There's no rules."

"That's what they do in the movies." König pondered out loud. He'd seen in done so many times he just thought 'oh I'm going on a date, eat dinner, then walk around for a bit'. No harm in that really. Now he felt embarrassed and kind of ticked off that he'd had that logged away in his memory for so many years.

"We can walk, there's a park with a pond behind those trees over there."

Before he can stuff his shame back into his pocket, he's being yanked across the street, dodging some traffic and a dog that should have been on a leash.

It was nice. He didn't have to think so much, you were taking the lead which was refreshing. You weren't scared of him, or threatened by his size. He dwarfed your body easily, no questions asked. Used to orders from the higher ups, though a colonel himself, he was raised on a routine, strict guidelines to follow correctly. With you, even for this first initial date, he was so attracted to you, so much so that he allowed you to drag his weight around the park.

"Maybe next time I could cook for you. Would you like that?" You asked, strolling along the cobblestones. The branches swaying in the warm night air. Petals from some rose bushes had fallen around the base of the bush like a halo.

His heart surged. "There is going to be a next time?"

"I hope so."

"I wasn't sure if maybe you were taking pity on me."

"I'm not like that. I'm having a good time with you. You're safe with me ya' know?" You stopped and held his hand, using it for leverage to pull yourself up to stand on a park bench. You were closer now, your eyes bright and face aglow. He was in trouble. Even more so when you placed your hands on his shoulders, he walked closer and smiled when you hugged him again.

He plucked one of the roses out from the bush and kept it hidden behind his back while you walked around a bit more before parting ways. The way you squealed with delight, how cheeky you got, how you inhaled the given rose made him smile. He hadn't felt like this before.

….

"What's got you in a mood?" Simon asked once he was back on base. The lieutenant shared an on-suite room with him, just coming back from the showers by the looks of it. König had maybe done a little spin once in the safety of his room.

"Nothing, L.T." König slipped the movie stub into his keep sake box. Locked of course, inside held his personal belongings, his passports, SAT phone, all your letters and a few polaroid's you'd taken.

"Ah, you can't hid nothin' from me, colonel. I know ye' too well, yer jus' like me." Simon finished shaking out his wet blonde hair like a dog, watching him lock the box with the key.

"I am nothing like you Simon, the only things we have in common are military backgrounds and close in height." König snorted.

"That's what you think! So where were ya'?"

"I had a date, thank you very much." König admitted and by the gafwed noise Simon made, maybe he should have kept his big mouth shut. Because now Ghost was wild eyed and begging for gossip, sitting down next to him on his bed, getting water everywhere. He'd have to change out his sheets now.

"You on a date, sir? I can't wrap my head aroun' that!"

"She's nice and funny and I didn't have to think so much. No jumping through hoops with this one, she's direct and very easy on the eyes. And she wants to cook for me." König couldn't help it, once he got going telling Simon little pieces about you, Simon turned into mush, collecting these little nuggets like breadcrumbs.

"Cook for you? Hot damn, König, you must've made some impression."

"Ja, I guess I did."

"So what's wrong?"

"Nothing is wrong. I just, I am not experienced in this, talking phase or dating, relationships. That sort of thing is in the unknown to me. I barely have any friends, no romantic affairs, no wild tales of my youth. You know me, I signed up the moment I could. All I know is this," König exclaimed, gesturing to their barrack room. Cold and lonely, nothing cozy about the place. Just beige, white and cement. No color. Drab. "What if that's not enough for a woman like her?"

"Look man, I don't know this bird but what I do know is this," Simon clapped him on the back twice. "You had a successful date, mission complete. You're about to get a free dinner out of a lovely gal and who knows, she likes you this much to cook for ya'. I'd say you're enough."

He thought about that all night. Hung up his white shirt, after inhaling it when Simon left, smiling into the crisp fabric because your scent was faintly there. Was he enough? He worried a hole into the ceiling, laying there in his sweats and socks.

You texted him that you had gotten home safe, sending a quick picture of yourself holding the rose to your face. He stared at it for little longer before closing his eyes.

….

"I'm sorry to break it to you boys, but we've been called into action. Boots on the ground, simple recon. I know I know. Hit me with it already," Captain John Price announced a few days later in the debriefing room. His statement was met with groans of disappointment, sighs of defeat. They just gotten back to base, couldn't they found a better, eager group of recruits for a recon? Even the colonel let out a huff, tapping his foot against the table. "Two days time and we head out. Dismissed."

König bit at the inside of his cheek the whole way back to his room, taken away from you yet again. He grabbed his phone and pulled up your contact photo. It always gave him pause when he saw you now, your face, make up or bare. The one he chose was you fresh out of the shower in your bathroom, soft, wet, supple skin. Little drops of water clung to your neck. You were smiling, no teeth, cheeks high and with a wink you snapped it just for him. This one was nowhere to be found on any of your socials and that made him feel a little better. You did like him, enjoy his company.

"Hey, are you busy?" He'd asked when you picked up right away, dogs barking in the background as you told Barkley to 'cool his jets!'.

Whatever that meant. You were dog sitting for a friend for a few days, you did that fairly often as you had a whole camera reel of you playing with him, laying around, posing. Barkley is very photogenic.

"Nope, just at the dog park, why? What's up?"

"Do you think I uh, maybe I could stop by. I need to talk to you about something."

"Oh? Yeah sure, I'll just uh, send you my location. We'll see you soon König! Say bye Barkley!"

To König's surprise the dog did in fact bark back.

You lived in a beautiful brownstone building close by, off street parking, lots of trees and a decorated stoop. The top step had a decent chunk missing on the left side. He turned off his bike, flipping open the visor as he looked for your apartment number on the buzzer. The door unlocked and up the stairs he went, second floor, third door in the middle. He only knocked once before you were there, opening the door and trying your hardest of keep Barkley from escaping.

"Sorry, he's kinda' wound up. Got himself a pretty good stick, he's very proud of himself."

König had to duck to get inside, like most places, door frames were not made for men the size of small houses. He took off his helmet and kept it tucked under his arm. Barkley, your two year old Doberman slid into the hallway, holding said stick in his mouth.

Barkley stopped short and tilted his head to the side, bright white teeth started to unfurl.

"Barkley, no. We like him, he's my special friend, okay?"

"Might be the mask." König chuckled, his heart beating a little bit faster, he carefully pulled it off and held it out to the pet. I'm her 'special' friend, he thought gleefully. He didn't even recognize what he'd just done until he looked up at you, blinking quietly, shocked.

"What?"

"You just… you just took off your mask." You sounded almost breathless, slowly pointing at him.

Oh no!

König went to quickly put it back on but in his haste and excitement Barkley snatched it with his teeth and ran into the living room.

"Get back here you silly thing!" You shouted and followed him, he could hear you tussling and trying to negotiate with Barkley while König freaked out in the kitchen. How could he have let this happen? What had gotten into him? Just exposed his face to civilian, a woman he was actually interested in? Oh this was bad, so vary bad. What if you thought he looked like a monster, turned off by his exterior? He'd never live with himself!

A little out of breath but smiling you popped in, joining him at the counter.

"Sorry about that, cutie. He's been in a playful mood all day." You were holding out the mask with one hand and covering your eyes, head turned to the side.

What did you call him?

He took it and hastily slipped it back on, righting it so he could actually see.

"Better?" You asked and took a little peek, making sure he had put the streaked cloth back on to his head.

"Much."

"I mean it though; you are a cutie. I mean, I knew you would be, but seeing your bare face, sheesh. Could've warned a girl, huh?" You lightheartedly sighed, fixed your shirt and bit bumped into his shoulder on purpose, resting your head there, looking up at him with those eyes, those lashes. He never wanted to kiss someone so much as he did right then.

"You actually… you think I'm cute?" He blushed something fierce, from the base of his neck, to the cartilage of his ears, he was burning up.

"Uh huh. Just like you think I'm cute."

"You… oh no, nein nein, you are… spectacular. I could write poetry about you! A muse. I don't know how this happened but, you came to me like a siren in the night, calling out to me to rest at your shore. Surely you might drown me, a risk I am willing to take. But instead you took pity on me, let me go after luring me into your clutches."

"Wow. That's uh, that's some high ass praise. I don't think anyone has ever been that excited about me before." You squeezed his arm, he could feel your pulse, the added warmth.

"Well they were all fools then."

"Yeah, I guess so." You stared at each other, not saying a word, just looking. Usually König couldn't stand eye contact, only to his superiors, had to give them recognition and attention of course. But this was the longest he'd looked at someone this long. It didn't feel as jittery as he was used to. Eyes flickering over each other, mapping out your face, the shape of your ears, the curve of your mouth. Which was soon turning into a smile.

"You said you had something to tell me."

"Oh! Right right, um, sorry. I know I just got back but, according to this morning I'll be MIA again."

It hurt to say it, to know he'd be gone from you once you two had hit it off so well, it stung when your face dropped and you looked away from him. It burned like hell when you pulled away.

"You just got here!"

"I know but what the captain says goes." König shrugged.

"Gimmie' his number."

"What?"

"Your captain! I oughta' give him a piece of my mind for this. I finally find a decent guy, we have crazy chemistry and he's just gonna' steal you away again? uh uh, not on my watch!"

Concern quickly left when you broke out in hysterics, doubling over with laughter, pushing his arm playfully. Clearly Barkley's energy was rubbing off on you!

"Don't worry König," you grinned. "I'll be here when you get back."

….

The three day recon had turned quickly sour and was now on its' 6th consecutive day. The target was being moved around at all hours of the day and once they thought they had gotten their man, they were a step and a half behind. Tedious work.

In the safehouse, face lit up by his phone screen he waited for those little dots to convert into text.

'I miss you, I hope you're being safe out there. Weather has been messy back home. Did you find an apartment you like yet? Not saying you have to but my building has a FOR RENT sign up!'

'Oh we would be so close'

'you mean neighbors :)'

The thought of living off base, not having to share a room with Simon any longer would be a real treat. Moving would be a breeze, he could always buy a pull out couch if he wanted. He didn't pack much and was not actually too sentimental, until recently that is.

You picked him up from the base, waiting patently by your car when he exited the helo, duffel over his shoulder in his gear. He smiled behind the hood at you waving to him wildly with both hands, as if he could ever miss your beaming face.

"Hiya cutie! Thought I'd surprise ya'. You look massive in uniform, damn!"

He maybe blushed a little as the rest of the company walked past. "I missed you terribly, my dear." König happily lifted you off your feet in an embrace. "I can't stop thinking about you."

"Me either. Have you got stuff to do here or do you wanna' come home with me?"

Home? With… you.

He swallowed, seeing Ghost give him a thumbs up as he walked by. The FOR RENT sign should have been flashing neon lights at him as he rode passenger, holding his things in his thick lap as you pulled in front. Second floor, third door from the middle; he remembered. He also took a mental note of the phone number to call if interested.

"I know you probably don't have--"

"One sec!"

You held up a finger and ran into your bedroom, you came back with a small container. You had taken the time, the care to make him a little treat. How thoughtful. You had remembered what soap he mentioned he liked, preferred body oil to lotion, too sticky. A fresh pair of shampoo and conditioners, face wash. You were taking care of him.

You smiled up at him, presenting it to him. "For you."

"For me? You did not have to do any of this." He said, noticing there were fresh washcloths and an exfoliating cloth.

"I know. I wanted to. You know if case you stay over sometimes."

"You um want me to sleep over? In your space?"

"When you're ready."

After using your shower, incredible water pressure he thought, he toweled off and decided to keep his face bare. Tossing the mask, along with his uniform into a pile on top of his duffel bag.

Something smelled delicious when he came around the corner, you had an apron on over your skirt and top, your legs looked amazing in those pantyhose. The thought of shredding them lingered in his brain hours later. The quick inhale of your breath when you saw his face again, the cute little grin, the way your mouth twitched. How you continued to call him cutie.

"You went through all this trouble, there must be something I can do." König sighed as you gathered up the plates.

"It's not a problem König, I enjoy cooking. It's my love language I guess." You said with a shrug, sure of yourself as you rinsed them off a bit before adding them to your dishwasher. If the apartment(s) for rent in your building were anything like this, he would have made the score of a lifetime! A gorgeous woman interested in him, doting on him, cooking for him, calling him cute… and to not deal with Simon.

He'd hit the lottery!

"If you want to do something in return," you sang, wiping off your hands and took his in yours. "You can snuggle me on the couch. Deal?"

Deal.

He'd thought about it for months, how he would hold you in his arms, craddle you there, play with your hair, the hem of your shirt. To smell you, to feel you. Touch you. He would be lying if he hadn't dreamt up a life with you. He was, after all, getting of that settling down phase of his life.

You had the plushiest of blankets draped over the back of your couch that you dragged over you two once you got comfortable. Leaning against his side, tucked beneath his armpit. He was greatful he had an extra set of clothes in that bag of his, because laying against his unifomr, 6 days of sweat and grim would inot be ideal.

He drummed his fingers over your shoulder, you are so warm, he thought, even more so when you laced your much smaller fingers with his.

"I'm not, I'm not as experienced as you might think." He said suddenly, before you got the chance to see him grimace.

"I know. You said I was your first date."

"Ja, you were. In fact, if you desired, you would be my first; everything."

He got a little nervous when you stayed quiet before turning your head up against his shoulder, touching his jaw. "Everything?"

"Well, I once held a girls' hand and she got grossed out because I got all clammy, she made me so nervous! I did not know what to do." König expressed.

"That's ok. You're fine."

"You mean, you're… you're not weirded out by that?"

"No way, cutie. If you want, we can take easy steps. Remember what I told you on our first date?" You smiled, what a wonderful smile, and patted his cheek, thumbing over the bone. "You are safe with me, I meant it then and I mean it now."

"What do you mean by easy steps?"

"Well, we can hold hands like this or we can kiss, we can make out, you can touch me if you want."

"Do you want me to? Touch you that is."

You snorted out a laugh and faced him on the couch, sad that your body heat was leaving him wanting more. Come back here hase!

"Not to be a little perv, but what I want you to do to me, is a lot more than just touching."

"Like what?"

"Ah, curiosity killed the cat you know? um, let's see." You pondered, tapping your chin before giving a full answer. "I want to kiss you, all over. And I mean all over, I want to learn your body, what you like what you don't like. Good and bad touches. I want to your hold your hand over my heart so you can feel how much I want you. I also want you to learn me as well, feel me, inside and out. Taste me."

God that sounded amazing. How he had wanted the same, had dreamt about it, had stroked his cock to it. Watching porn, situations he wanted to be in with you. All the positions he knew and maybe more than you knew, that you could teach him. Oh the possibilities!

But then…

"What if I'm not good at it?"

"That's what practice is for silly!" You bopped him on the nose.

"You mean this wouldn't be like a --"

"One time thing? Heavens no! König, I see you as my boyfriend. We're in a relationship."

A relationship. He's your boyfriend. You his lady. Jackpot indeed!

"Simon is definitely going to give me shit for that, first relationship and I'm almost 40!"

"There is no rush. People make such a big deal out of sex and relationships when its' really not that complicated. Either you do it or don't. You're either turned on by the idea or the intimacy, or you can go without. No two people are the same. Look, if you want like a routine or itinerary, I know you're used to that, I could come up with a game plan. Get you prepared."

"You would do that for me?"

"König, I would do anything for you."

….

Back on base he pulled up his tablet, excited, giddy with the potential of being intimate with you. He didn't even have time to jerk off, instead his mind was a cluster fuck of what you had in store for him. How exciting! You had quickly made a checklist of sorts, he was eager to punch each line, each owrd, each iactivity into his tablet.

Now this he could work with.

He even made time to call up your landlord, leaving a message after hours.

He was going to know your body like coordinates and that, for whatever reason, made sense and excited him even further. His pants getting a bit tight as he laid on his bed.

What Y/N enjoys (FOR YOUR EYES ONLY CUTIE ;p )

Hitting all the bases

The good, the bad, the absolutely NOT

You were thorough, giving just enough information as he logged it all in. Only hiding his evidence as if it were pornography when Simon popped into the room, unannounced, tossing him a stolen cinnamon roll. His favorite.

"Now are you sure? We don't have to do anything." Your voice was even as you two sat on your couch, he'd been excited when you suggested sitting in his lap. Eager to feel you against him, you sat across his large thighs, kicking and rubbing your feet against the cushions in anticicpation.

"I'm positive. Green." He nodded several times, holding on to your side. His fingers twitched when you lifted off the mask, you smiled and booped him on the end of his nose.

"Ready?"

"Here goes." König voiced, though it sounded more like he was talking to himself then to you.

He closed his eyes, tried not to squeeze them so tight, but dammit if this wasn't nerve wracking! He's a grown man, he's been to war, has seen carnage and gore. Has had a lot of it on his own hands, under his nails, stained clothing, broken bones. Scars, some self made, most of the others had been fought for. That, oh he could do that stuff in his sleep but this… being vulnerable, not in his repertoire.

He puckered up and you snickered. "What are you doing?"

His blue eyes opened in a panic. "What? I thought we were going to kiss."

"Well, yeah, we are but not like that. That's some Hollywood mumbo jumbo. A kiss needs to be felt out like, like this." You held his face in your hands, looking into his eyes softly, and tilted your head. With your eyes looking down at his mouth he felt your lips against his own, plump and warm. Ghosting them there before you shut your eyes and pressed your mouths together.

Oh, that's nice.

He breathed you in, fingers relaxing on your ribs as you started to move your mouth now, opening your lips a little wider, taking his top one solely into your mouth. You hummed and pressed your body against him before pulling back a few inches.

"See, like that. That's just a basic--"

König surged forward then, kissing you a little harder, taken aback but not unwarranted you met him kiss for kiss, smacking against one another. You made him jolt when you licked the seam of his lips, on instinct, and because it kind of tickled, but he let you in. Tasting him, his tongue seemed to know what to do as you made out. You pulled back once more, out of breath and smiling.

"You're a fast learner. Pretty damn good at it too, you're a natural."

You mused and kissed him one more time.

Learning the bases was pretty straightforward and simple.

First base, was already established. Second wasn't as trembling of a thought when you guided his hands when he faltered. You wore a dress this time, laid back on your bed, ankles crossed as he laid next to you, mapping out your body.

Your neck was soft under his calloused palm, your collar, he froze when all he wanted to do was hold your breast. You sat up enough on to your elbows for him to do so.

"Go on, give my girls' a good squeeze." You winked and smirked when he followed orders. They were soft and supple in his large hands, the noise you made urged him further, smoothing over your stomach, your thighs. God your thighs, he thought. How plush and how nice they would feel around his waist, around his head.

"That's it König, you're doing such a good-- oh!" You snapped your mouth shut when he covered your entire mound with his hand, feeling you pulse and twitch. He smiled and leaned down for a kiss.

"Color? Can I look?"

"Fuckin' green all the way. You can do more than look, hot stuff!"

Oh did he look. Eyes paying close attention to you pulling off your panties, tossing them off the edge of your bed, spreading your legs as he moved into a sniper position.

Not only did he look but he touched, moving your legs apart, smiling to himself that he could see a line of arousal leaking down your slit. iI did that! I did that! Your body pulsed around him, made him feel dizzy with need. Your pussy is so pretty, he thought.

Or at least he thought he only said to himself.

"Well thanks."

"Mind if I--"

"I told you green, cutie. She won't bite." Your chuckle disappeared into an inhale when he started to touch you, feel you, the whines you made were making the man rock hard, his skin was too tight and this was the best decision he'd made in a long fucking time.

You came around his fingers twice when you showed him what you liked, knuckle deep in your cunt, soothing your engorged bundle of nerves, he even snuck in a kiss or two. The way you showed him how to massage the sensitive skin around, how you liked to make a V with fingers, displaying the tender meat of your cunt.

"Oh baby that's it! That's it!"

….

"You're moving quite fast, König." Simon said on his last evening at the base, emptying the already sparse on-suite room. He had all of his belongings, except for a bed, in only 3 standard issue duffels.

"For the last time, Riley, I am moving into the same building as Y/N, not in with her."

"Still! You barely know the bird." Simon tried to reason, watching König move about the room, making sure he didn't leave anything of importance behind.

"I know enough Simon, enough to get me out of this linen closest next to your snoring ass."

"It's not that bad!"

"Simon; these walls are cement, why can I hear you breathing? Got yourself a real problem. Should get that checked out asap."

Ghost rolled his eyes and König chuckled. "Just so you know I am taking over your room as soon as you leave base. More room for me then! No take backs' either!"

"Have it big man, I'll see you around."

You weren't just some woman he just met, not a toy like Johnny liked to call his little bunk bunnies. You were his girlfriend, still a shocker to say it out loud. König has a little lady of his own.

The move in was easy, he'd ordered a new bed online. He slept at your place until it came, as a housewarming gift, you got him his first candle of the season and silk pillowcases that you absolutely swore by.

You two tested it out, bouncing on it after an impromptu pillow fight that landed you in his lap. His eyes never left yours as you tossed one of the pillows away, sitting on him.

"Is this okay?" You asked and must've seen the twitch on his faintly scarred bottom lip.

"You're perfect." His breath came out lighter than usually, had more of soft ring to it.

Your pretty face lit up, practically glowing before leaning down to kiss him. Gently, touching his face, over his arms, his hands finding purchase on your hips. He breathed you in, molding himself to you.

"Open your mouth baby."

He groaned and listened, the feeling of your tongue slipping into his mouth. Tangling together, the noises you made were fantastic, rolling your hips against his. One hand moved up under your shirt, feeling your back, you wiggled further into him.

Baby still sounded so foreign, he had never been one to be made to feel small. Hell, he was 5'11 in the fifth grade! But the way you sighed it or moaned it, he did feel softer. Lighter.

König boldly sat up, holding you close and pulled back, looking over your spit slicked lips. "Take off your clothes." Even bolder still, he held your eye contact. Your left eye twitched.

"Are you sure?"

It was his turn to cup your face, tilting his head, brushing his lips over yours. "Ja, I want to. I want to do this with you."

"Color system?"

"Ja, sounds good to me."

Like a sly fox, you backed your way out of his lap, standing between his legs. He watched you undress, peeling down your leggings one at a time. A glimpse of your lace red underwear. You then peeled your top off. Oh dear, it was a matching set! König licked his lips, his heart going to battle with his ribcage as you grinned and climbed back into his lap. His favorite shade.

"It's your lucky night baby. I just picked these out last night."

"You planned to show me these ? How did you know I would be ready?"

"I didn't!" He watched your heaving chest, breasts so close to his face he could smell your sweat and perfume, intoxicating him further. "I just knew I wanted to buy it to wear for you."

"You are going to be the death of me. You look like a dream."

"I'm a real vision, huh?" You chuckled and kissed him again.

He couldn't believe this was finally happening, you took your time. Letting him slide down the straps of your new bra, mouthing over your neck and collar. You huffed out a breath and unclasped it, peeling it away to expose your upper half.

"You alright?" You asked, he went deaf for a moment looking at your tits, right in front of his face. He blinked blearily up at you, hands on his shoulders.

"Again, my dear, you are perfect." He cupped them, urged on by your hands over his own, giving them a squeeze. You inhaled his name when he leaned forward, taking an already pebbled nipple into his mouth. Lapping at the taste of you, your hands in his hair as he tasted your skin. He treated the other same, indulging as he went on.

"Green?" He asked and you nodded.

He rolled you onto your back, his pants were getting uncomfortable and he soon felt overly dressed. His room was bare, save for the new bed and sheets, a sturdy nightstand and his belongings still mostly in those duffels but it felt right. To have you here, reaching out for him once he was out of his pants.

Your legs opened for him, fitting himself in between there, rocking side to side to fit.

"Condoms?"

"I have some in the nightstand." König reached over you, fumbled around for a bit until he grabbed the unopened box.

"This should be plenty."

You rolled your head over to see a larger than expected box, giggling beneath him. "You planning on a marathon there, tiger? Goodness!"

"Well I wanted to be prepared! Is that so wrong?"

"No, cutie. I'm just givin' you shit is all," you brushed back his hair, looking at him so sweetly, moving your hips just so, the lace of your underwear felt disgustingly good against the crotch of his boxers. "Do you want me to suck you off first?"

He went rigid, the thought of your beautiful mouth on his dick, laced with spit and pre-cum, slipping in and out of your mouth… he was grateful in that moment that he had decided to jerk off in the shower that morning. Can't be running around with you with a loaded gun.

"Maybe after." König sucked in a breath when you slipped a hand between your bodies, groping over his groin, rock fucking hard for you. "I'm so ready for you I think I might bust from that alone."

"What an ego boost." You breathed out, low and full of lust. He'd never heard you sound like that and it was because of him. Because he made you feel that way, desire licked behind your eyes and you bit your lip. "You are so hard right now!"

"I'm always hard for you." König admitted, kissing you, enjoying your hands in his hair, tugging lightly at his scalp. He hoped you would do it a little harder once he was finally inside you.

With a grin you dug your nails into his shoulder, "Whenever you're ready, tiger. I'm all yours."

König eagerly rubbed you through your panties, wetness forming on the pads of his fingers, circling your clit like you had taught him a few weeks ago. He moved them aside as you kissed, gasping into your mouth when you moved a bit, his weight on you welcomed with wide and open arms.

You tugged at his shirt. "Take this off, baby. Wanna' see you."

"Uh it's a little iffy under there." König hung his head against your own.

"Baby," you crooned rubbing your thumbs over his chin. "I want all of you. You're safe with me, remember?"

"There's just a lot goin' on under this shirt." His laugh held little to no humor, scars of old, past battles.

"Don't you trust me?"

"Of course I trust you, my dear. I just… only my company has seen me shirtless. Their used to what messes can be made in combat."

"Well," you started. "It's up to you, but I'm telling you right now, I will love all of your stripes. No matter where they came from."

König couldn't kiss you harder or fast enough, fucking his tongue into your mouth would soon become a favored past time, he thought. You whined against him, wrapping your hands around his thick forearms. He gave your pussy a few taps, mewling into his wanting mouth.

He pulled down your panties, your little feet kicking them away so you lay naked beneath him, panting and begging for him. Pleading. He leaned heavy to one side, shimming out of his boxers, tore open and rolled the condom on like he'd practiced. He panted above you, blue eyes taking in your pretty face, fuck you were pretty. And his lady. And next thing he knew he was grabbing at the back of his t-shirt, yanked it off his head.

"You want all of me, ja?"

"Yes baby, every inch."

He groaned at that and like so many videos he's watched in his lifetime, been told tall tales, Soap's escapades, Simons' late nights, Horangi's notch list, Prices' black book, he lined himself up with your leaking entrance.

"Green?" He dare ask.

You answered with a smile and a nod.

Your eyes rolled into the back of your head at the first plunge, he took time to let you adjust to his size. He knew he was thick, didn't want to hurt you at all. God forbid. You whined and looked down at where he was ever so carefully inching inside you, your pussy so warm and tight and he thanked fuck again that he had gotten one off before this. This was incredible, being inside you, becoming one, jointed together.

"Oh baby, yes!" You keened, lifting your legs to rest at his ribs, knees digging into the bones.

"Oh fuck you feel…this is… holy shit ja. Fuck this is good, so so good."

König had to adjust himself several times, listening to your body, watching your expressions, your words. The way you arched into his touch, his hands groping over you thighs, kissing your neck, beginning to thrust, lightly, into you. He still took his time but fucks sake, he'd never felt this good in his life.

"Fuck yes, ho-how do you feel baby?" You asked, rubbing his arms that caged you in, locking fingers together as you moved with him.

"I feel like I could fight god."

"And win-- oh hah fuck, oh whatever you're doing keep doing that!"

Your laugh turned into a cry out, you raised your head again watching him pump himself inside you, stroke after stroke you took his thick cock like a champ. You moved one hand down and started rubbing your clit, matching moan for moan with you, the sounds of your sex pounded in both of your ears. He grunted your name, holding the crown of your skull, hissed through his teeth, squeezed his eyes shut as you came with a shout.

"You're so pretty so fucking pretty, my dear."

"Oh my god you feel so good, I want you. I want you so badly."

"You 'ave me, all of me."

Your hands on his skin, touching his scars, vulnerable but willing. Giving and taking, his throbbing cock was driving you mad. You whimpered, tossing your head from side to side, biting your fingers when he pulled out, smearing your mixed arousal over your cunt. He even tapped it a few times before slipping back in with a low groan.

"Ohhh tiger, fuck this is good. Should've done this sooner."

"You sound so pretty too, Oh fuck-- can you, can you pull my hair a little."

A fucked out grin greeted him in between kisses, grabbing up at his reddish hair.

You licked your lips, his chin, your free hand reaching up and wrapping around his throat was so nice, he actually whined.

"Oh baby, you are fucking me so good. You were made for me, huh? Huh, tiger? Hollowing me out, making room for you inside my pussy? I am so wet I can hear it. Can you hear how good you're making me feel? Oh my god."

"Oh fuck!"

You were right, the squelching, the slap of skin on skin, how desperate you two were for one another was downright perverse. He could feel you pulsing, pulling him in like the tide. You fucked your tongue into his mouth, praising him, calling him good, telling him how you felt, what you needed a little bit more of. Yanking his hair, scraping over his back.

"Again! Oh god König, make me cum again! Fuck yeah."

And he did. He pulled out and spat on his own cock before bullying it right back into you, he knocked your hand away and used the techniques you'd shown him to assault your clit. He was mesmerized by you body, writhing and rolling for him, grabbing his head at one point to stare into his eyes.

Another condom spent, you on top of him, rocking down onto him, holding on to his shoulders. When you threw your head back he latched on to your breast, holding the other, toying with your nipple. You grabbed his hair again, almost forcing him to keep going as you cried out in pleasure.

"Well baby, how do you feel?" You asked after the third round, laying on your side, out of breath, your eyes blown out, body radiating from adrenaline.

"Incredible," König faced you, head lulling over on the divine silk pillow case. He grabbed your hand and kissed your knuckles. "I think I am falling in love with you."

You hiccupped a sort of laugh, he felt a little cheesy saying until you patted his face.

"Oh baby, I'm already there."

"You love me?"

"Mhmm."

König was over the fucking moon, moving too quickly he kissed you.

"Ich liebe dich."

"I love you too."

Without discussion he got up and grabbed another condom. "One more round couldn't hurt."

You laughed your way into his arms, rolling his weight on top of you once more.

Tagging: @nepomami @powerfultenderness @weallhaveadestiny

[heizlut]

Hallo! I am very new to tumblr, so please excuse any mistakes i may make qwq

I really enjoyed your Venti and Kaeya story(ies)! Could you do something similar for Lyney with the addition of a breeking kink? He doesnt have cat ears or a tail like his sister- instead, the feline side of him shows through his obsessive need to breed :x

jshdhdhd i’ve been thinking about this like crazy and i’m so glad we got to clarify a few details over messages before i wrote this! again, welcome to tumblr! i’m so glad you stumbled across my page🫶🏼 (was also totally inspired by the yaoi when writing this lmfao)

Jinx

cw: breeding kink, textured feline tongue, hypnosis, rope-play, mentions of pregnancy

tags: sub fem!reader, dom!lyney with recessive feline traits, mostly proofread

a/n: here's a lil translation for the pet names- "mon chaton"= my kitten; "mon cherie"= my beloved; "bonne fille"= good girl; “ma bonne fille”= my good girl

nsfw under the cut

m!list here

જ⁀➴✧:･.˚｡･ﾟ✧:･.・જ⁀➴✧:

Ever since becoming his girlfriend, Lyney found he had a particular jinx; all because one evening he fucked you so hard backstage before his performance, filling you so full of his sticky cum, and his show ended up being the greatest one yet. The next performance, he wanted to test out his little theory; fucking his cock into your tight cunt til his cum was leaking out and dripping down your thighs. Lyney had yet another show stopping performance.

When he told you his theory, you had simply laughed, “Seems like you just want to relieve some pre-show nerves. I doubt it’s some type of jinx, my love.” The cute little pout on Lyney’s face made it hard to take him seriously. You give him a kiss on the cheek, “I don’t mind this little routine though. If it means getting fucked so full of you before a show, I’ll do it.”

Tonight was a performance that Lyney knew he couldn’t fuck up. It was meant to be another show stopper with prominent Fontaine guests in the audience. You made your way to his dressing room as you usually did. Lyney was seated at his vanity touching up his hair when he saw your reflection behind him in the mirror. The corners of his lips curl upwards, “There she is~”

You smirk in response, “I have something special for you tonight…Master Lyney~” Lyney turned his body in his chair to face you as you begin to undo the buttons of your dress. The soft material slips off your body, revealing a red lacy lingerie set with a black garter belt that matched his. Lyney’s lips part, taking in every inch of you with his violet eyes. Lyney almost wanted to curse his innate feline genes for almost pouncing on you right then and there. The way you looked right now and using that title he'd teased you with before was almost too much for him to bear. He wanted to be able to take his time with you, or at least as much time as he could before he had to make his way to the stage.

Lyney gets up from his seat, sauntering over to you with a sultry look in his eyes. His fingers reach out, tracing the lacy edges of your lingerie, "Look at my sweet girl dressed so provocatively... Wearing my extra garter belt no less." He runs his finger under one of the straps and pulls it back and releases, letting it lightly slap back against your skin. Your breath catches in your throat as he does so. Arousal pooling against the thin fabric of your panties when he leans in, his lips grazing yours as he speaks in a low tone, "I have something special for you too, mon chaton~" Lyney backs away from you, the lingering touch from his lips sets you ablaze with desire.

Lyney digs through his pocket and pulls out a carnelian pendulum with a mischievous glint in his eyes, "Be a sweetheart for me and keep your eyes on crystal, yes?" You draw your bottom lip between your teeth and nod, fixing your gaze on the pendulum. Your eyes follow the swinging pendulum as Lyney begins to speak, "Relax your mind and your body... Focus on the sound of my voice..." He continues on as you feel your mind go blank. He smirks at your dazed expression, now having you fully under.

He softly caressed your cheek, running the pad of his thumb across your soft lips, "Be a good girl and get the purple rope, yes?" All you can do is nod and follow his instructions. Lyney's cock twitches as he watches you bring back the rope he requested. He takes it from you hands and moves behind you, his lips against your ear, "Arms behind your back, mon cherie~" Of course, you comply. His voice filling your mind like a sweet melody that was only meant for you alone. A tingling sensation pricks at your skin as the ropes loop through your arms just tight enough for you to be forced to stay in that position, unable to touch him.

Lyney's fingers trace your skin as he moves to the front of you, admiring how gorgeous you looked. He takes hold of the straps of your pretty bra between his digits, using his pyro vision to carefully singe them just enough to let a piece of them burn away. The straps fall loose to your back and he singes the front connecting the cups. Your perky breasts are left exposed to his lustful gaze as the bra makes a soft noise when it lands on the dressing room floor. You squirm a little in your spot as the need between your legs begins to consume you. Your eyes stuck on his violet ones that burn with deep desire, "Be still, mon chaton."

Your lips part as you let a soft moan slip when Lyney cups your breasts in his nimble hands. He squeezes and massages them, mesmerized by the way the plushness squishes between his fingers. He lowers himself and leans forward taking one pebbled nipple into his mouth; his rough feline tongue flicking and swirling around it. Your body tries to fight against the hypnosis, desperate to tangle your fingers in his hair as his rough tongue does its work on your body.

Leaving your breasts sore and swollen, Lyney kisses down your body softly til he's eye level with your clothed cunt. His eyes flit up to your face, pleased to see you looking so needy. He taps your thigh twice, "Spread out so I can enjoy my pre-performance meal." You comply, taking a small step to the side to give him more room. Lyney smirks, "Bonne fille..." He places his hands on your thighs and licks a stripe through your thin panties. He lets out a broken groan at the scent and taste of you as your arousal soaked the material. Lyney tugs at the panties until they rip and glide down, now hanging loosely around one ankle.

Your moans fill the small dressing room as he dives in between your folds, lapping up your juices with his rough tongue. His grip tightens on your thighs as you shake with pleasure; his tongue relentless against your sensitive clit. White hot pleasure courses through you as you cum on his tongue, making him snarl as he overstimulates you, unable to get enough of your taste. "Please, Master Lyney~!" you cry out, feeling as though your legs are about to give out from underneath you. The title you give him and the way you taste and smell kicks his feline instincts into full gear. Lyney needed to breed you.

Lyney straightens up and tugs you by your garter belt to his vanity. He bends you slightly and tangles his fingers in your hair, pulling your head up to look at the reflection of you both in his mirror. "Oh, mon chaton... See the way you look right now? I simply can't resist~", he chuckles as you whimper when you're forced to look at how dazed and desperate you are for him. He undoes his pants, tugging them down just enough for his twitching cock to bob free against your ass.

Lyney's hands travel down your curves and to your round ass, giving your cheeks a light squeeze. He spreads them apart, giving himself a better view of your leaky pussy. He moves his hips, letting his fat pink tip rub against your cunt and gather your arousal. Lyney stills himself, his tip pushed against your wet entrance as he leans over, locking eyes with you in the reflection, "Keep your eyes on us." Unable to do anything other than what he says, your eyes widen as a pretty cry leaves your lips as he pushes himself inside of you.

His fingers dig into the fat of your hips as he fucks into you deep and hard. Lyney completely loses it when he sees your eyes flutter and drool slips from the corner of your mouth as you keep your eyes on the lewd display. His pace becomes harsh as the tip of his thick cock bullies your insides over and over, "Need to breed you nice and full... Need to see your cute stomach swell with my children- Fuck, mon amour...-" His hips stutter when he sees the white ring of cum that had formed at the base of his cock. Lyney lets out a breathy chuckle, running his fingers though his hair, “Creaming around my cock? You must really want me to breed you, huh”

You’re so fucked out the only way you can respond is by moaning over and over. You looked angelic and so fucking slutty that when your eyes crossed in pleasure and your tits bounced in time with his thrusts, Lyney releases a whiny moan. With a final thrust, his hot cum floods your fluttering pussy. His cock throbs as he regains his senses, groaning as he pulls out and his cum begins to leak from your cunt.

As much as the sight of his cum leaking from you filled his ego, Lyney needed it to take. Quickly grabbing a silicone prop, he pushes it inside your pussy with a curved smile, "You shouldn't let my seed go to waste. We need to keep you stuffed full 'til my cum takes..." Your eyes meet his devious ones in the vanity mirror, still looking for more. A sudden knock on the door causes Lyney to snap from his thoughts as Lynette's voice sounds from the other side, "Lyney, it's time."

"I'll be there in a moment!", he calls back and then lets out a sigh. His gaze returning to your dazed one. Your were still under his hypnosis... Lyney's voice is saccharine when he speaks his next words, "Sit still at my vanity and don't even think about covering up or fucking yourself on the prop that's keeping my cum in you." A sly smile forms on his lips when you let out a small whimper when you sit, making the silicone prop push deeper inside of you. Lyney presses a slow kiss to your lips and smiles, "Ma bonne fille..." He readjusts his clothes and fixes his hair one last time before heading out for his grand performance,

And what a performance it was. A standing ovation, thrown flowers covering the stage, and raving reviews from the prominent figures of Fontaine; all thanks to you. Lyney walks back to his dressing room and his lips curl up when his gaze lands on your shaking, restrained body still sat as his vanity as your own arousal had pooled in the chair. You were his lucky charm, his special jinx; and oh how he would reward you for being so perfect.... Breeding you time and time again.

જ⁀➴✧:･.˚｡･ﾟ✧:･.・જ⁀➴✧:

a/n: i turned myself on just writing this lol also plz if you’ve read the yaoi i referenced, let’s be friends lmao

[runningfrom2am]

leveling the playing field // epilogue

summary: seven years later.

pairing: coriolanus snow x fem!reader

wc: 2.7k

masterlists / nav / requests

tags/warnings: capitol brat!reader, maybe slightly ooc coryo, idk i tried my best. this part is quite tame! idk, discussion of the games as a concept is pretty messed up? obviously r & coryo are both delusional but whats new??

a/n: this is it :') thank you all so so so much for all the love on this fic! it means so much to me that you guys enjoyed it! but don't get too sad (like me) bc i am not ready to let them go so i'll probably do like blurbs and stuff ab this series so stick around for those!

series masterlist // playlist

~ seven years later ~

"You've got this, Darling. It's going to be perfect." Coryo insists, kissing your temple as you relentlessly adjust your hair, trying to tame any imaginary flyaways in your flawlessly straightened hair.

"As long as it's not a disaster..." You mumble, giving up on your hair and refocusing on making sure you have all your papers.

Arena map? Check. Tribute and mentors list? Check. Schedule?

"With you in charge, I do not doubt that it will be anything short of flawless. I know you. You wouldn't have it any other way." Your husband assures you, taking your spot in front of the large mirror to adjust his red coat, matching to yours.

You sigh, tucking the large stack of meticulously organized papers into your bag. "I mean, does anyone honestly expect it to be perfect? It's my first games... There's a small margin for error, right?"

"No." Coryo replies sternly, turning to face you. He grabs your chin as you groan, forcing your eyes to meet his. "There's no room for error, but it will be perfect. So don't worry." He plants a gentle kiss on your lips. "And if you need anything, just call."

"Okay..." You hum, smiling as you look up at him. "I'm going to miss you, though." Your smile shifts into a pout, and he kisses your forehead.

"I know. I'll miss having my assistant around, too." He mumbles against the softness of your skin.

Your time working together under Dr. Gaul had been a dream. Why did everything have to change all at once? You've been together every day for years, and you had the most fun helping plan the games and pitching all your ideas to Dr. Gaul, staying up late over ideas due the next morning and too many cups of coffee, giggling over how funny it would be to see a games where the people of the Districts got to vote over who to send in.

"Do you think it's because that's kind of what happened to Lucy Gray?" You giggled in the dark, feeling Coryo's form shift under the blankets next to you before you felt his breath hit the side of your face.

"Now that you mention it..." He laughed quietly. "Yeah, it totally was."

You had always come up with Dr. Gaul's favourite ideas together. But now, she was gone. And it was just you. You honestly thought that woman was some kind of immortal beast, but clearly, no one is fully bulletproof.

She had offered the position of Head Gamemaker to both of you in her will. You and Coriolanus had worked well together, she had always said that about you. That the two of you were her favourite experiment.

"No, Darling. You take it."

"What? No, we've always done everything together." You protest, furrowing your brow. "She's offered it to both of us, we can do whatever we want, no more waiting for her approval. We can run with it! Come on, it'll be so fun, Coryo."

"That's your dream. Not mine." He smiled at you, brushing his thumb over your cheek.

You frowned, focussing yourself on pulling the buttons of his shirt so they were perfectly aligned. "Are... Are you sure? I don't know if I can do it without you."

"You'll never do anything without me, you know that." He hummed, pushing your hair out of your eyes. "If you need help, just ask. I'm right here. Always."

"I'm not an assistant anymore." You laugh. "Technically, you're kind of my assistant now." You shrug, leaning down to pull on your shoes, white with bottoms red to match your coat.

"Okay, well, I wouldn't put it like that..." He laughs, shaking his head at you and holding out a hand to steady you while you adjust yourself to accommodate your heels.

You take it gratefully, standing up and brushing off your coat once more with your free hand. "Be honest, Coryo, do you think the bear is too much? I feel a little like it's cheating, they don't even really have a chance. Do you get what I mean?"

"Darling," He cups your cheeks in his hands. "No one will be able to look away. That's the most important part."

"I just... I want it to be something different. Something people will still want to watch."

"Everyone will be watching." He assures you. "Now, let's get going. You have a big day ahead."

"Yes sir, Mister President."

"My name is Lucretius "Lucky" Flickerman, your favourite and only host of the annual Hunger Games on Capitol TV, and I have a very special treat for you all this morning before the beginning of the games." You gently remove your coat as you sit down across from Lucky, holding it out for someone to take before the cameras flit your way, though the live audience can already see you.

"For anyone who lives under a rock, this beautiful woman here with me is our lovely First Lady of Panem, and now, Head Gamemaker, Dr. Y/N Snow." He continues as your coat is taken away, and you smile across at him. "Thank you so much for squeezing us into your very busy schedule. Now, how are you feeling about today, Miss Snow?"

"Doctor is fine." You correct him politely, to which he utters a quick apology. "And I am feeling very good about my first games. Dr. Gaul left some big shoes to fill, but I've been working with her for years so I have some really exciting ideas that I just can't wait for the world to see."

"Yes! I'm certain you do." Lucky grins. "Now, I don't know how much of our audience will remember this, but the first time we met was during the tenth games, I was hosting for the first time and you and your husband were both mentors! Just young academy students with some big dreams, isn't that right?"

You laugh, nodding as he speaks and letting the cheers die down. "Yes, I remember that. All of us were kind of getting a feel for how things would work, and my husband was actually the one who came up with the ideas of betting and sponsorships. He has truly always been such a leader, and so smart. He was the one who asked Dr. Gaul if I could help him with his mentorship, and she agreed, and then she just really loved how well we worked together so she kept us around to study under her all these years. It has been such a fun and kind of... fulfilling journey for us both."

"And now, here you are." He nods at you.

"Here I am." You echo it back to him, waiting for another question.

"Now, we have to address what can only be described as the elephant in the room..." He starts, and you try and hide your confused look as you straighten your posture. If there was some kind of problem you should have been made aware before you set foot on stage. "That summer, after your mentorship. Tell us. What happened? Both of you disappeared off the face of the earth right after your success in the games, then came back with these shiny new internships under Dr. Gaul, how did you swing that?"

"Oh!" You laugh, partially relieved it wasn't about these games, but hesitant because everyone knows better than to bring up the tenth games in any sort of detail. "Well, that was the beginning of our internship with Dr. Gaul, and she wanted us to gain some life experience, so we did some touring of the Districts on our own to get to know the people of Panem better. Neither of us had ever left home before, so it was definitely a unique experience that I think was really good for both of us. It was a super secret thing, for some reason. We weren't even to tell our families."

"I see! Well, I hope you learned everything you sought out to?"

"We did." You nod. "And more."

"Okay, well, with that cleared up, tell us more about the games you have planned for us this year. Is there anything new we should be expecting?"

"Oh, definitely." You nod, smiling wide now that you can once again talk about your games. "But I wouldn't want to spoil anything, so everyone will just have to watch." You shrug.

"I don't know if you are aware of this, Dr. Snow," He leans in a little closer, smile on his face. "But one new thing that we know for sure is changing this year, is that the president, your husband, has made it mandatory to watch the games. Not just here in the Capitol, but everywhere in the Districts as well. He made an announcement just this morning, he wants everyone to see what you've worked so hard for."

"Aw." You blush, pressing your hands to your chest. "That's so sweet! No, I didn't know that." The audience eats up your reaction, and you try to keep your eyes on him instead of acknowledging all the clapping and shouts from below you.

"Well, that's just about the cutest surprise! He has a lot of confidence in you." He laughs, reaching over and patting your leg. "You've all heard it here, he's just as good a husband as he is a president!"

"It's true." You agree, hardly audible over the crowds enthusiasm.

"Speaking of your husband..." He says, turning back to look into the wing of the stage and nodding at someone. "He set us up with a little surprise for you, if you don't mind."

"Oh, please." You laugh, covering your face as your cheeks heat up. "Of course he did." You shake your head, whistles from the audience not helping your blush.

"Okay, you can look now. Don't hide!" Lucky laughs, and you lower your hands from in front of your face to be presented with a bouquet of white and red roses. It wasn't an extravagant gift from him, the amount of roses he has gifted to you since your return from Twelve together is astronomical by now, but it's a gesture you cherish nonetheless. You smile as you take them.

"Beautiful, as always." You grin, making a point of smelling them before handing them back to the assistant who's waiting with a vase for them.

"And we have one more thing here, I believe..." He hums, looking back again while you're distracted passing off the wrapped flowers.

When you turn back to look at him you gasp, hands flying up to cover your mouth, fearless of whether or not you would smudge your lipstick. "Is that for me?" You ask, voice higher in octave from the excitement as one of the stagehands walks out with a small dog, fur dyed a soft shade of red with a matching bow around its neck.

"Indeed it is!" Lucky laughs as you're handed the puppy.

"Oh my god..." You smile, tears brimming in your eyes. "Hi there..."

"I think there's a note for you there too..." Lucky urges you and you grab the tag tied onto the bow. "Mind reading it for us?" He says, holding his handkerchief out to you.

"Thank you," You laugh, dabbing under your eyes with your free hand. "A new assistant to match your shoes." You read, laughing at the inside joke.

Everyone laughs, and you get from Lucky's confused expression that you should explain. "Uh, working under Dr. Gaul we would always joke that he was my assistant and vice versa." You laugh, wiping your eyes again before you continue. "I am so proud of you. Finally, the world will see you as I do. Intelligent, strong, and beautiful. Unstoppable. That's why I love you, you're as pure as the driven Snow."

The audience awe's, but you know none of them get it the way you do. "Another inside joke." You nod at Lucky, trying to hold back from crying so much you turn into a mess.

"I stand corrected. That is the cutest surprise." He points to the dog in your lap. "Both literally and figuratively."

"I don't know what I'll do with it." You laugh, shaking your head as the puppy jumps up against your chest, trying to lick your face.

"How about a name, to start?" Lucky prompts you.

"Oh, gosh. Well..." You giggle, lifting it and setting it back down so it will sit in your lap. It's so small, hardly bigger than your hands. It'll likely never grow larger than your lap. It's perfect. "What about Lucky?" You tease.

"Oh, you flatter me, Y/N. Come on, something better."

"I don't know!" You laugh. "I'm not good at naming... things."

Lucky laughs. "Our Head Gamemaker with no ideas? That seems unlikely."

"Okay, okay. You're just putting me on the spot here, I'm a little nervous." You laugh, stroking over the dog's head. "I tell you what, before the games begin this morning I'll come up with twelve names, assign them randomly to the districts, then whoever shall win the games will determine the name of my dog. Does that sound fair?"

"Ah! That's brilliant!" Lucky laughs, clapping his hands together. "And that's a good incentive for anyone who hasn't yet placed their bets or sent in donations for the tributes! Your donation may just be what gives the First Lady's dog its name. How fun!"

"It'll be interesting." You giggle, looking down at the puppy in your lap. It must have been white before the dye, it took so well. Maybe it will fade into a pink before it grows out its natural white fur- you wouldn't want it to stay red forever, but for show, it was perfect.

"Now, we really shouldn't be taking up any more of your time. You have a busy day ahead!" Lucky says and you nod in agreement, standing up and carefully tucking the small dog under your arm. "Thank you for making time for us, I know I'm looking forward to seeing what you have in store for us."

"Thank you. I really hope you all enjoy the games!" You smile, holding out a hand for him to shake which he takes quickly, then allowing you to walk off the stage.

As predicted by a certain Mister President; Coriolanus Snow, your first games as Head Gamemaker went without a hitch. They were perfect in every way. Capitol citizens were buzzing- not just about the games, the mutts you incorporated into the newly decorated arena, or the most shocking kills, but also about your dog. The people loved her, and so did you. She hardly ever left your lap or your side for the duration of the games, which only lasted a matter of days.

The party your husband threw for you at the presidential palace, your home, at the end of the games was extravagant. Coryo couldn't help but broadcast his pride to all of the Capitol. He loved you; you were his, and he needed everyone to know. Not a soul in all the world was anywhere close to being on your level, and shaping you into the perfect wife and First Lady was what Coriolanus Snow considered his greatest achievement. As you stood next to him, his palm tucked neatly against your lower back, you were perfect. More perfect than you were the day you fought for a spot in the mentorships that he granted you, more perfect than the he first time he kissed you, and more perfect than both of the days he had killed someone for you. Without question, he would do it all again if it meant he would get to hold you even just one more time.

"I'm so proud of you, Love." He gently rubs your back, looking down at you while you overlook your garden from the patio off of your bedroom.

You smile, standing up on your toes to plant a kiss on his cheek. "Snow lands on top." You whisper, biting your lip when you see a shift behind his eyes.

"You bet we do." He hums with a smug smile, lifting you up and carrying you back inside.

And somewhere, thousands of miles away in the Northern shambles of a still recovering District Thirteen, while you and your husband are celebrating, Sejanus Plinth and Lucy Gray Baird share knowing, sorrowful glances when it's announced on the crackling radio that the winner of the Seventeenth Annual Hunger Games was a boy from District Two, and because of this, the First Lady of Panem's dog shall be called Sage.

taglist: @totallynotkaibiased , @stelleduarte , @klplynn , @secretsicanthideanymore , @bejeweledreverie , @gloryekaterina , @andrewgarfieldsbitch , @queenofspades6 , @pepperonipastas , @ladybug0095 , @lunamothwrites , @sbrewer21 , @mus-tbe-a-weasley , @splxtscreen , @unclecrunkle , @karmaswitch , @coconut-dreamz , @nekee-lilac02 , @ooooglymoooogly , @riddlerloveb0t , @lovedbalances , @notyourwildestdream , @snowlandson-top , @too-lit-for-fanfic , @utopiakys , @deafeningballoonnacho , @roosterschanelslut , @chmpgneprblem , @cosmoetik , , @urvampgfsworld , @carolanns-world@nan-nie , @shakespearseclipse , @iovemoonyy , @notyoursweetheart-honey ,  @xyzstar , @eatpizzasass, @slytherinholland , @queenofshinigamis , @elodiebeau , @soulessjourney

taglist is closed for coryo unfortunately, but my requests for him are open!! so send me all your suggestions!! requests here!!

[lambilegs]

hey cutie can we get some more sub g!p lee >< i don't know if it's just me but something about lee's wide eyes and cute pout turns me into a mean condescending dom lol

💗 subby g!p lee x reader in public

💗 contains: g!p lee, breeding kink, dirty talk, reader being a gentle dom, public play (bathroom stall), tugging on lee's hair, not proofread 💗 note to anon: NO I FEEL YOU, she's just so... corruptable I'M SORRYYYY but she's so cute so I totally get it

you know it's evil for you to be doing this. spending the entire evening at your mutual friend's wedding teasing, coaxing and creating an absolute mess of your girlfriend. lowering your voice into that husky, molten tone you know drives her insane, and murmuring how no one will be in the bathroom at this time, since guests are getting food, and the two of you could be so quick. deriving so much pleasure out of watching her neck flush pink, her wide eyes darting between you and the growing bulge in her pants, the sight of which makes your legs clench together in anticipation.

in fact, one might actually blame your girlfriend for this predicament -- she looks too handsome, how could you resist encouraging her into a quickie? she's wearing a grey blazer and matching slacks, a plain white button-up underneath and showing enough of her chest that you can just barely see the edge of the hickey you left on her the other day. when you saw her walk out of your shared bedroom clad in such a dashing outfit, you felt practically ravenous for her, and that's translated to slight touches and whispered filth the entire night, including during the car ride over.

she hissed at you that it'd be inappropriate to leave to go to the bathroom together, and that it'd be obvious what you guys are doing together, and on top of that, what if you two got caught? but, nevertheless, you could see the telltale signs of her arousal -- the way her breaths were getting heavier and more scattered, and her wide doe eyes kept skipping to your mouth.

in a matter of a half hour, you two are locking lips in a tight bathroom stall, her slacks shoved to her shins as you grind your bare pussy against the hard erection tucked under the thin fabric of her boxers. her large hands grope your ass, fingernails digging in and leaving a pleasurable sting surging up your spine, helping you hump against her faster.

"god, you're gonna come in your boxers at this point," you tease, giggling against her mouth.

her narrowed look immediately crumples into creases of arousal when you grind your pussy down particularly hard. "I--I shouldn't--"

"awe, I know, baby, it'd be so embarrassing if it leaks through and creates a big spot on your pants too, right?" you sweetly whisper, cupping her jaw and forcing her to keep her eyes on you.

"it would, so just take them o--"

"ah, ah, ah," you tsk, putting just a tad more pressure into your grip on her face. "when did we say you can give orders, huh?"

she sighs harshly, her lips pinching into a dissatisfied frown. "we didn't." the words are breathy and drained of the firmness she probably intended them to have, which makes a little grin spill onto your face.

"yeah, exactly," you shoot back in a reprimanding tone, patting her cheek. "now, keep helping."

her bottom lip caught behind her teeth, you know right away the order has her turned on. with a meek nod, her fingers press harder into your ass and she uses her strength to drag you back and forth on her clothed dick. the hard curve of it presses against your clit with every push and pull, and your sensitive nub only throbs more when you hear her soft mewls against your lips.

when her dick eases into you, your mouth falls open in a silent gasp as you feel her thick size stretch you out, filling you to utter perfection. when she's fully lodged into you, her head tips back, eyes fluttering shut and you can't help but duck down, latching a spot of skin into your mouth, sucking in a dark mark.

when you release it with a pop, her hips flinch up, her cock pumping even deeper into you and making you both gasp at the sensation.

you lean away from her, trying to rein in the intense sensations shooting through your muscles as you clench tighter onto her. "that excited?"

you watch in fascination as her throat bobs with the deep gulp she takes. "you're so much trouble."

your smirk widens, your hand creeping up her sweat-dampened shirt, fingers hooking into her collar and dragging her forward. you relish in the way her eyes widen, long lashes fanning as she watches you carefully. it makes a sense of satisfaction worm its way into you -- your girlfriend, the special agent, reduced to putty just from your pussy clamping down over her cock.

"that wasn't an answer, harker," you hiss, using your grasp on her shirt to wag her side to side. to heighten your point even more, you adjust yourself comfortably on her cock, the motion of which makes a small noise catch in your throat. once you're done, you remain seated, completely still, raising an eyebrow at her expectantly.

she sucks in a sharp breath, your breaths continuing to shudder as she mutters, "fine, I--I'm excited for it -- fuck."

you barely give her time to finish before you're bouncing yourself on her cock, slick sounds echoing through the bathroom as you take and take from her cock, using her for your pleasure.

not that she seems to mind much, her head continuing to loll back against the wall as she pants hard and fast, little whines slipping through every now and then.

when she comes, it's with your back pressed to her chest, your legs splayed on either side of her lap, her thumb rubbing at your clit just as you directed her to, cock ramming in and out at a furious pace that has you both gasping. with your hand wrapped in her ponytail, tugging enough to make her jaw clench from the sting of it, you whisper in her ear, "you're already this close after just a few minutes, it's not like it's gonna be even more embarrassing to come. at least you'll give me something then, even if it's just for your own needs."

she makes a choked noise that dissolves into a moan, her other hand wrapping tighter around your waist as she continues jacking off into you, her body finally freezing with a long groan rumbling in her throat. you sigh in ecstasy as streams of her milky come leak into you, making you flutter around her cock and prompt a few last drops to burst into your hole.

her finger continues rubbing at your clit, her mouth pressing to the sweat at the back of your neck, and in a matter of moments, your walls are seizing at her, an ache running through through every muscle and making you tense at the overwhelming waves of it.

by the time you both settle down, your body melting against hers, she whispers, "I told you -- trouble."

[fear-is-truth]

what do you think each of the evan’s wear to bed?

(i was trying to imagine what JPM would wear to bed and was stumped lmao)

⋆𐙚 ₊ the evans… sleepwear .ᐟ

ft. tate langdon ‧ kit walker ‧ kyle spencer ‧ jimmy darling ‧ james patrick march‧ kai anderson ‧ rory monahan ‧ peter maximoff ‧ colin zabel

a/n: ty for the req !! so fun to write tbh

⟢ 𝐓𝐀𝐓𝐄 𝐋𝐀𝐍𝐆𝐃𝐎𝐍.

tate’s sleepwear is very 90s boy-next-door. half the time, he’s in those vintage-looking striped tees—horizontal stripes in muted colors, the kind that might seem kinda baby-ish now but somehow work on him. baby boy. the rest of the time, it’s a band tee, nirvana or the smashing pumpkins. for bottoms, he’ll either grab his track & field shorts (you know, the short ones that look kinda fruity) or a pair of boxers. if it’s hot, he’ll ditch the shirt completely. on colder days, he’s in one of those sweaters paired with green checkered pyjama pants.

⟢ 𝐊𝐈𝐓 𝐖𝐀𝐋𝐊𝐄𝐑.

kit’s all about practicality. hot weather? briefs. nothing else. he’s not into anything restrictive or fancy when he’s sleeping. when it’s colder, he might throw on some soft flannel pajama pants and a white undershirt, but only if it’s freezing.

⟢ pre death .ᐟ 𝐊𝐘𝐋𝐄 𝐒𝐏𝐄𝐍𝐂𝐄𝐑.

kyle’s sleepwear usually includes an old college club tee—something from a campus event or charity run—or a nerdy sci-fi shirt with marvel, star wars, or star trek designs. for bottoms, it’s always something cozy, like well-worn sweatpants or flannel pyjama bottoms, usually in neutral or plaid patterns. his clothes always smell nice because he’s that guy who uses fabric softener religiously and actually knows how to do laundry properly.

⟢ 𝐉𝐈𝐌𝐌𝐘 𝐃𝐀𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐍𝐆.

wife-beater and boxers, no questions asked. he’s the type to sleep in just his boxers most of the year because he doesn’t see the point in layering up unless it’s absolutely freezing. when the weather does turn colder, he’ll trade the tank for a plain button-down.

⟢ 𝐉𝐀𝐌𝐄𝐒 𝐏𝐀𝐓𝐑𝐈𝐂𝐊 𝐌𝐀𝐑𝐂𝐇.

james wouldn’t dare wear anything less than a matching set of black silk pajamas, tailored to fit him perfectly. the initials “J.P.M.” are embroidered in silver thread on the pocket because, of course, he’s that extra. to complete the look, he has a matching silk robe—also black, with a silver trim. probably has a nightcap too.

⟢ 𝐑𝐎𝐑𝐘 𝐌𝐎𝐍𝐀𝐇𝐀𝐍.

“actor off-duty” typa fit. his go-to is a plain, perfectly-fitted t-shirt (you’d think it’s basic, but it’s actually some high-end brand like james perse) paired with plain sweatpants. if it’s getting chilly, he’d swap the tee for a well-worn hoodie, but even that’s designer, probably with a well-hidden logo no one notices unless they know fashion. cashmere socks because his feet get cold in winter. rory’s all about comfort, but it’s the kind of comfort only a celeb with a fat paycheck can pull off.

⟢ cult leader .ᐟ 𝐊𝐀𝐈 𝐀𝐍𝐃𝐄𝐑𝐒𝐎𝐍.

kai would 100% sleep shirtless, wearing those loose, low-slung grey sweatpants that sit dangerously low on his hips, showing off that delicious v-line because. he a whore. when it’s cold, though, he’s layering up with a sweater or plain hoodie—the kind a tech bro would wear without a second thought. or black thermal shirt paired with fleece joggers.

⟢ 𝐀𝐔𝐒𝐓𝐈𝐍 𝐒𝐎𝐌𝐌𝐄𝐑𝐒.

austin’s sleepwear is all about luxury. he’d wear a high-end silk robe, probably from something like tom ford or balenciaga, in sleek b & w pinstripes or a classy paisley print. It’s the kind of robe that looks expensive without being flashy—tasteful, refined, and just a little bit sexy. he’d leave it slightly open at the chest, showing off just a sliver of his pale skin (scandalous! what a slut!). he’s also got matching slippers, and an eye mask for when he needs to block out sunlight.

⟢ 𝐏𝐄𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐌𝐀𝐗𝐈𝐌𝐎𝐅𝐅.

he’s got a collection of band tees that double as sleepwear, (pink floyd or rush). then, of course, there are those absurdly dorky graphic tees that are so bad they’re good—like the “nacho average guy” with a cartoon taco or a random graphic of a turtle. peter’s pyjama bottoms are often cartoony and childish. think patterns like cartoon superheroes, or those old-school looney tunes characters. they’re soft and comfy, of course.

⟢ 𝐂𝐎𝐋𝐈𝐍 𝐙𝐀𝐁𝐄𝐋.

simple and comfy. he’d throw on a plain cotton shirt and wear boxers. when it’s warmer, he’s in boxers, but when the temperature drops, he’s switching to a long-sleeve thermal shirt to stay warm. his pajama bottoms are a staple—those brown, white, and black checkered plaid ones, they’re slightly worn in from frequent use, but he looooves that soft, lived-in feeling.

[charliehoennam]

angel part 3

pairing: louis bloom x f!reader

summary: louis takes his crush/neighbor out on their first date and gets a little carried away.

warning: this fic contains dark themes such as stalking, dubcon/noncon, smut and others. Read at your own risk. 18+ ONLY.

SHARING IS CARING, SO PLEASE REBLOG

It's another hot night in Los Angeles.

You step out of your bathroom wrapped in your towel, fresh out of the shower. Rummaging through the messy closet that you've yet to finish organizing due to the move, you try to mentally plan your outfit.

Thinking about what to wear, you push between the hangers and through your clothes for a better look. You find a nice, short, red dress that's both casual and elegant enough for a first date. You match it with a pair of cute ballet flats that accentuate your feet and legs.

Meanwhile, Lou secretly watches you set out your outfit on the bed. There’s a certain thrill that he enjoys about watching you.

He thinks it’s rather sweet how naïve you are, but he’s also aware that it could lead you to potential danger in the wrong hands. That’s why he’s taking it upon himself to protect you.

He’s seen and filmed plenty of horrible things happen to the young innocent girls of L.A who unknowingly put themselves in harm’s way. He doesn’t want that to happen to you. Better than anyone else, he knows what evil men can be capable of. Whether you know it or not, you need him.

His tongue grazes his bottom lip as he watches you take your towel off. Your hair and make-up are all ready. Now, you just have to get dressed.

Hanging your towel over your closet door to dry, you walk over to the side of your bed to grab your favorite lotion from your nightstand.

With concentrated wide eyes, Louis watches from afar as you squeeze the scented lotion onto your palm. Propping your foot on the mattress, you rub the creamy lotion onto your shin first and gradually work your way up to your thigh.

Louis admires you as if admiring a work of art. The way your breasts dangle as you bend over to rub your shin, the folds on your stomach that bunch together, the curve of your ass when you switch your attention to the other leg, the way your ass jiggles when you rub the lotion over your cheeks.

"That's a great ass," he thinks to himself. “Why there though? Does she expect me to touch her there tonight? That would be too forward, wouldn’t it? Is this a sign that you want me too? Oh, you naughty little angel.”

He smirks at the hope of getting to go to fourth base with you again, but with you actually conscious this time.

He stops himself from getting too excited when he sees you putting on your underwear. The way you cautiously select a matching lacy pair indicates, to him, that there’s a strong chance he might get to see it. Just actually on you instead of in your drawer.

Forcing himself away from the window, he takes one last look at himself in the mirror. Adjusting his brown suit jacket, he decides to undo the top button of his white shirt hoping that his subtle flaunting of his chest will give out the signals he’s looking for.

Noting a couple of strands by his ear, he takes his comb to smooth them back into place. He gently presses his palm against the area after spraying a quick mist of hairspray to keep them there.

After a quick spritz of cologne behind each ear, he adds the stolen watch he’d taken from a security guard long before his days as a rising entrepreneur. It sits a little loose on his wrist, but he doesn’t mind it enough to take it off.

Stepping into his bathroom, he stares at himself blankly before opening the medicine cabinet. He takes the sleeping pills he’d used on you before and opens the orange bottle to take a couple of doses. Once they’re placed in a small plastic baggie, he crushes them up with the use of the cup on his sink he usually uses when brushing his teeth. Satisfied with their powdered fineness, he tucks the baggie into his wallet and closes the cabinet.

You come out of your apartment and walk out of the building to find Louis waiting for you outside with his hands tucked into his pockets. He flashes a genuine smile at you as you approach.

“Wow, you look spectacular, Y/N.”

“Thanks. I didn’t wanna overdo it” you smile shyly, pressing your cheek against his to greet him with a friendly kiss. He doesn’t quite kiss you back, surprising by the act, but he’s very happy about it because it’s a positive sign that you’re getting comfortable with him. “You smell really good, by the way. Are you wearing cologne?”

“Yes, I am. I hope it’s not a bother? Special occasions call for special measures.”

“Is this a special occasion?” you smirk up at him.

“Of course, it is. It’s not every day that I get to take the most beautiful lady in the complex out to dinner.”

Your cheeks warm at his compliment.

“It’s not a bother at all. I really like the scent actually.”

“Thank you, sweetheart. May I call you sweetheart?”

“Yeah,” you chuckle. You don’t think anyone’s ever asked your permission to call you a pet name, but you kind of like it. His wardrobe might be a little plain and a touch outdated, but his manners nearly make you wet.

“I thought we could maybe go to this place called Cabanita. They have the best beef fajitas” he smiles leading you over to his dodge challenger.

The cherry red color makes it impossible to miss. You'd noticed it when Matt whistled upond seeing it in the parking lot. You had no idea it belonged to a guy like Louis.

It was a big contrast to his rather timid personality. You would have guessed it belonged to someone little more obnoxious.

"This is your ride?" You ask trying to not look surprised.

"Yeah. Is that alright? I promise I won't drive above the speed limit if that's your concern" he chuckes opening the passenger door.

"Yeah, it's completely fine. Just a really nice car" you smile walking closer to slide into the passenger seat.

He thanks you for the compliment and walks around the front to slide into the driver's seat.

"Seat belt on?" You nod as he clicks in his before starting up the car.

As he pulls out of his parking space, your eyes wander around the vehicle. It's spotlessly clean and neat without a single wrapper lying around. The faint scent of pinewood radiates from the scented pine tree hanging from the mirror.

"So have you been there before?"

You hum looking over at him as he pulls out of your thoughts.

"Cabanita? Have you been there before?" He asks he drives out of the parking lot and onto the road.

"No, I haven't. I've heard about it though."

"Boy, are you in for a treat then. It's one of my favorite places. There's an excellent vegetarian empanada too, if you're not into meat."

"I suppose I'll have a hard time choosing what to eat then.”

"There's no rush anyway. The purpose of this is to get to know each other better after all, right?”

You nod in agreement.

"And they've got a great selection of drinks too. Of course, I won't be indulging too much. Alcohol and driving is never a safe combination."

You smile at him thinking about how your ex used to drink and drive. You like that he's responsible, not only with himself, but your presence too. He makes you feel safe.

"I really appreciate that. Maybe afterwards, we could have a night cap at my place? I mean, as long as you don't mind the mess. It's better than the last time you saw it, but there's still some things to organize."

He smiles widely at the thought of being in your apartment again.

"I would love that, sweetheart."

Upon arriving at the restaurant, you're led to a table for two by the polite hostess. Sitting in the rounded booth of your table, you look around the beautiful decoration of Mexican flair.

"This place is beautiful. I can't believe I've never been here before."

"Neither can I. Please don't  this the wrong way, but I would assume a woman as beautiful as yourself would be often taken out on dates?"

You don't know exactly how to respond.

"I just mean that any man would be happy to take you out for a wine and dine."

"I don't know about that" your cheeks warm. "I haven't been on a date in a while, to be honest."

"That's a little hard to believe. I'd imagine you have guys lining up for an opportunity like this."

"I wish" you chuckle smiling widely at his flirtation. "It is really nice to be here tonight though. I'm glad we did this."

"I am too" he smiles.

You spend the rest of the evening sharing bits and pieces of personal information about yourselves. You tell him how you moved to California, where you're from and the area you work in.

He shares that he's a native to L.A and that he's a business man, specializing in news report filming. He also shares that his parents are deceased and jokes about you not having to deal with troubling in-laws when you apologize for his loss. It happened a long time ago and he was raised by his grandmother who is too no longer around.

You love how Louis listens to you and questions you, making the conversation naturally effortless. It’s a very pleasant change from the men you’d met over tinder giving online dating a chance.

Learning more about your hobbies, interests and area of expertise, Louis is hopeful that you’d make a great match. He strongly believes you’re a potential candidate for him to settle down with, but only time can confirm that. There’s still so much more he needs to revie, but his investment in you is already rather hopeful.

Once you've enjoyed your dinner and dessert over endless talks about each other, you both agree to head back to your place for a night cap.

When he walks into your apartment, he tries to act like he's never been there before. Like everything is new and he doesn't already know all the books or CDs you have on your shelf. Or the shampoo and perfume you wear. Or what your favorite cereal is. Or where you store your undergarments.

No, he doesn't know any of that. He's seeing it all for the very first time.

With a wine glass in hand, you invite him to sit on the couch with you and continue your conversation about the lovely experience you had at the restaurant and how lovely the food and environment were.

It's obvious that there's a slight tension in the air when he sets his hand on your thigh. You're not quite sure why, but it feels a little fast.

You've only just met the man, gone on the first date just now. And given your history of relationships, you've had a pattern of rushing into the sex.

You don't want to give off the wrong impression about yourself and you actually like Lou. He's polite, thoughtful and didn't keep making sexual passes at you over dinner like the other guys.

It was actually really nice to finally be able to sit down and talk to someone who genuinely wanted to get to know you for who you are and not just your body.

There's still something that you can't quite explain that makes you uneasy about him, but the fact that you can't quite pinpoint it makes you believe that it might be just you projecting your fears onto him. It has been a while since you've dated; this was your first date in months.

You excuse yourself to go to the bathroom and hope he won't pick up on your hesitance.

Louis knows something is making you uncomfortable. He doesn't know what. He knows he'll have to work harder and longer to gain your trust, to ensure that you feel completely safe with him before you can invite him into your bed. But that's ok, he doesn't mind the wait. He can be patient when he needs to.

When you come back to the small living room, he's stood adjusting his suit jacket.

"Are you leaving?"

"I hope you're not offended" he nods. "I just got a call from my employee. I have to go, but I was hoping we could maybe do this again sometime?"

"Yeah, a-alright. I'd love to" you nod masking your disappointment. You're almost sure you blew it. He's never going to actually come back.

"Thank you so much for tonight. I really enjoyed our talk and I look forward to getting to know you even better."

"So do I" you nod forcing a smile at him as you follow him to the door. "Stop by whenever. I'm home every day after 6."

As if he doesn't already know your schedule.

"Will do, sweetheart. I apologize again, but I promise I'll make for it. "

"There's no need. It's work."

"Yes, that's true. And I do love the service that I provide, but I think I've been begun to enjoy your company even more."

You smile surprised at him as you open the door. He leans down to mimic your very first act and presses his cheek against yours to kiss you goodbye.

You sigh as the door closes behind your back and shake your head. Part of you wishes you had caved in. Why shouldn't have you? You were flirting, he was into you. All the signs were there.

Regretfully taking your wine glass from the coffee table, you chug down its remaining content. There's a bitter taste to the wine. It just must've been out or opened for too long. It could be time to get a new bottle.

You take the glasses to the kitchen to give them rinse and set them on the drying. Then, you walk over to the closet to remove your dress and bra and change into your pajamas which consists of an oversized t-shirt and the cute lacy panties you’d picked out.

To be fair, Louis did actually have to work. Although the date had ended, his night was only getting started.

It’s only 2 a.m when he comes home from another adrenaline-filled night. Despite the rush of speeding from neighborhood to neighborhood, he isn’t all too tired. Not for you, at least.

Making his way to his window, he looks into your apartment to make sure you’re fast asleep. Content with the fact that you are, he takes his fun time kit and makes his way to your front door.

Quietly breaking into your apartment again, just as easy as before, he closes the door behind him and makes his way over to your bed. With his camcorder in hand, he stares down at you hungrily.

You're on your side with your back to him. Your shirt is just slightly hiked up from the position, revealing a bit of your stomach. You don’t even feel it when he traces his finger up your thigh and over the arch of your ass to test the effect of his dosage.

It’s the same amount as last time, so he’s confident you won’t wake up. But the issue is that he didn’t see you take the sedative this time. For all he knows, you could’ve tossed the wine out instead. It’s a risk he’ll willing to take as he palms the knife – his last resort – in his pocket.

Judging by the TV that’s still on, he believes you did take it. The more he's watched you over the past few days, the more he believes you were made for one another. You don't get out much. Friends aren't over all the time. It's mostly just you alone in your apartment doing chores or watching TV, and you never sleep with it on.

He smirks at the panties that perfectly accentuate your ass, making it look plump and rounder. They look so pretty on you; he doesn’t want to take them off even though he’s anxious to drill his cock into your pussy.

As he films, he slides his middle finger down the crack of your ass and slowly moves it towards your pussy. His eyes alter back and forth from your face to your ass. He wants to be sure you don’t wake up, but there’s no movement so far. Your breathing is just as steady as before.

Smirking to him with wide eyes, he quickly unbuckles his belt and pants and lets his cock spring from its confines. Feeling more confident than the last time, he sets the camera down on the bed in order to strip down and undress.

Once completely naked, he takes his camera in hand again and aims the focal point back to your ass. He lifts the fabric of your panties to tuck his dripping cock underneath it, pressing it against your cheeks. A faint quiet “fuck” escapes from his lips.

He toys with his cock, enjoying how your ass and the lace feels against his hardened shaft. You’re just so warm and begging to be fucked.

Propping one knee on the bed between your legs, he hooks your panties with his finger to lift them and glides his glistening tip down to your plush pussy folds and back to your ass. He could come from this alone, but he wants to enjoy it for as long as he can.

You might not even know, but your body reacts to the head of his dick massaging your clit. You don’t move, too unconscious to even notice, but he can feel your pussy slickening with every stroke between your lips.

Stilling his hips for a moment, the camera shifts upwards to catch him lifting your shirt up over your breast. With a smirk, he flips the screen of the camcorder and sets it down near the corner of your bed angling it to capture himself and you from the front.

Happy with his angle, he’s able to finally focus on only you. He slides your panties to the side and slowly pushes his cock into your wet hole. The pleasure is so good that he has to stop and lean his head back with eyes shut tightly to hold himself back.

Slowly pushing and pulling to wet his dick, he finally bottoms out with a low groan. The tightness of your walls has him struggling to contain himself.

He leans down as he cups your breast in his hand and latches his lips onto your hardened nipple. He sucks and flicks his tongue over it, kneading the flesh with his hand hoping the distraction is able to make him last longer.

Standing beside your bed, his hips begin their slow thrusts as he straightens up. He keeps a hand on your ass to keep your cheeks open for his cock. The other stays on your breast for the sheer satisfaction of how squishy it is.

“Fuck, angel. You feel so fucking heavenly” he whispers to himself. “Could fuck you forever.”

Watching where your bodies connect, he pants and watches your pussy swallowing his cock with such ease. His balls grazing against your thigh only heightens his ecstasy.

His hips quicken until they’re snapping against your ass cheeks. He quickly glances at the camera screen to make sure the angel is filming every inch.

Feeling his orgasm approaching, he squeezes your ass and hips as his eyes move up and down to watch your jiggling breast and your swollen pussy lips engulfing his dick. He hates that he can’t fucking cum inside you. You feel too good to pull out, but he does regardless and lets his ropes of white cum squirt in the crack of your ass instead.

It’s a win-win to him. He doesn’t cum inside you but he still gets to have your warm flesh milk him of every drop.

Stepping back to catch his breath, he holds your panties with one hand to film your ass painted white with his load. He zooms in as close as he can to capture his seed drip between your cheeks.

Stunned by the fact that you haven’t even budged, he sets the camera down. He carefully rolls you onto your front, lowers your panties to your ankles and parts your legs as wide as he can.

Taking the camera once more, he watches with wide eyes as his cum slowly trickles onto and between your pussy lips, making you look so juicy and creamy for him. He can’t help but set his camcorder aside and position himself on your bed to lower down and lick it up.

His tongue prods at your creamy cunt as his hands squeeze your ass, thumbs parting your sore lips open to lap at all the juices oozing from you. He circles your clit. His tongue licks at your folds over and over again to capture every drop of his salty load and sinks as far as it can into your pussy.

Moving upwards, he parts your cheeks to glide his tongue between them and licks up the mess, poking the puckered hole with his tongue. He can only imagine how good fucking your ass must feel. He doesn’t want to do that just yet, he wants you to be awake for it because he knows it could be painful. He’s not an animal, of course.

His cock does twitch and hardens at the thought of fucking your ass.

Spitting on your pussy, he rolls you back onto your side before lying down beside you. He takes the camera to film himself lying beside you, as if you’re a couple. He nuzzles his nose into your hair, inhaling the sweet scent of your conditioner. He smiles to himself as he kisses your neck and shoulder, admiring how cute you look together on the screen of the camcorder.

Positioning it on the bed, he aims the lenses of it up at your cunt and his cock for the perfect angle of his dick slipping back into you for another round.

Tonight, he plans to test his limit and see how much he can really get away with.  

His cock slips past your pussy lips again and fucks you harder this time, letting his balls slap against your clit and add to the delicious vulgar sounds that fill the room.

Once his orgasm builds up again, he holds your thigh tightly and pulls his cock out to simply glide between your drenched lips, cumming on them.

His load slickens your thighs, so he holds them closed and fucks them slowly to ease himself down from his high, altering from your supple thighs and wet cunt.

He swears he could fuck you like this all night, and he just might.

[prettygirl-gabi]

Title: Such A Menace

Pairing: Ice Brady x Reader

Fandom: UConn Women's Basketball

Rating: Mature

Warnings: wlw smut, !glittery blue strap Ice, !top Ice, !bottom reader, Ice being a "bully", sensuality, and intimacy.

Summary: she may be a "bully" but she's yours and she loves to prove it

Tag: @elalfywhore

I heard her before I saw her. Ice had this habit of making her presence known in the loudest and most chaotic way possible—whether it was her laugh echoing down the halls or her sneakers scuffing purposefully against the gym floor.

And today was no different.

“You call that an outfit, babe?” Ice’s voice carried through the practice gym as I sat on the bleachers, scrolling on my phone. I looked up to see her sauntering over, her hands tucked casually into the pockets of her UConn warm-ups, a smug grin plastered across her face.

I rolled my eyes, refusing to give her the satisfaction of a reaction. “Don’t start with me, Ice. I look good, and you know it.”

“Oh, you think you look good?” she teased, coming to a stop right in front of me. Her tall frame loomed over mine, and I had to tilt my head to meet her eyes. “I think you forgot to match your socks. That’s tragic, babe.”

I crossed my arms, glaring up at her. “And I think you forgot that I’m not one of your teammates you can mess with.”

Her grin widened, and she leaned down until her face was inches from mine. “Oh, but you’re my favorite person to mess with,” she said, her voice dropping to a low, teasing tone.

Heat rushed to my cheeks, and I looked away. “Whatever,” I muttered.

Ice chuckled, clearly enjoying how flustered I was. “Aww, you’re blushing. That’s cute.”

“Go away, Brady,” I said, trying to sound annoyed, but my voice wavered, betraying me.

“Make me.”

Before I could respond, she plopped down on the bleacher next to me, casually throwing an arm around my shoulders. I stiffened as she pulled me closer, her fingers toying with the hem of my shirt.

“You’re such a menace,” I grumbled, trying to squirm away, but she held me firmly in place.

“Yeah, but you love it,” she shot back, pressing a quick kiss to the side of my head.

I rolled my eyes again, but I couldn’t hide the small smile tugging at my lips.

Later that evening, we were back in her dorm. Ice had insisted I come over, claiming she wanted to “study,” but it was clear from the way she was sprawled across her bed, flipping through her phone, that studying was the last thing on her mind.

“Are you actually going to do any work, or am I just here to entertain you?” I asked, raising an eyebrow.

She looked up, smirking. “You’re always here to entertain me, babe.”

“Seriously, Ice—”

“Seriously,” she mimicked, her tone dripping with playful sarcasm.

I threw a pillow at her, and she caught it effortlessly, laughing. “You’re impossible.”

“And you’re adorable when you’re mad,” she said, tossing the pillow aside and sitting up. Her eyes glinted with mischief as she patted the spot on the bed next to her. “C’mere.”

I hesitated, knowing that look all too well. It was the look she gave me right before she decided to push all my buttons.

“I don’t trust you,” I said, narrowing my eyes.

She laughed, leaning back on her elbows. “What, you think I’m gonna bite? C’mon, babe, I’m not that mean.”

I scoffed. “You literally told me my outfit was tragic earlier.”

“It was tragic,” she said matter-of-factly. “But I still think you’re the hottest person in the room, so what does that tell you?”

I rolled my eyes, but my cheeks burned at the compliment.

It wasn’t long before Ice’s teasing turned into something softer. She had a way of switching gears when I least expected it, going from relentless teasing to being the most affectionate person on the planet.

As I sat on her bed, her hand found mine, her fingers tracing slow, lazy patterns on my skin. “You know I only mess with you because I like seeing you all flustered, right?” she said, her voice softer now.

“I know,” I admitted, leaning into her touch. “But you’re still a bully.”

She laughed, pulling me into her lap. “A bully who’s absolutely obsessed with you,” she said, pressing her lips to mine.

“Just enjoy it, babe,” she cooed, her voice silky smooth. “Let me take care of you.”

With a skilled flick of her fingers, hand quickly pushing my blue thong out the way, she found my sweet spot, sending shockwaves of pleasure coursing through me. I squirmed under her touch, the sensations overwhelming. With in a few minutes I was withering from her touch“Please… I need more,” I begged, my voice laced with desperation.

“More, huh?” she teased, her eyes sparkling with delight. “I think I can manage that.”

As her fingers worked their magic, she leaned in closer, her mouth capturing mine in a heated kiss, her tongue dancing with mine. It was a heady mix of passion and control, the perfect combination that sent me spiraling into bliss.

Finally, she withdrew her hand, her eyes dark with desire. “I think you’re ready for me now,” she said, her voice low and sultry.

I nod letting her pull my shorts down, quick motion, breathless with anticipation as she flipped me over, positioning herself behind me, her hands gripping my hips. The moment the glittery blue strap pressed against me, a shiver of excitement raced through my body. “Tell me if it’s too much,” she murmured, her voice a velvety whisper.

With a gentle thrust, she entered me, the sensation sending waves of pleasure crashing over my body. I gasped, feeling both filled and cherished as she held me close. “You’re doing so good, f'me” Ice praised, her voice a soothing balm against the intensity of the moment.

As she began to move, the rhythm between us both built, a tantalizing dance of gentle and rough. The contrast was intoxicating, each thrust igniting a fire deep within me, pushing me closer to the edge. Ice’s hands gripped my waist, guiding me as she took me higher and higher, our bodies moving in perfect harmony. Skin slapping louding, my warm creamy juices falling to the base of the stap and onto the Satan sheets.

“Just let go,” she urged, her voice a sultry whisper that sent shivers down my spine. With each thrust, I felt the tension building, the pleasure coiling tighter and tighter within me.

“Ice… I’m so close,” I gasped, my body trembling with need.

“Come for me,” she commanded, her voice dripping with desire. “I want to feel you fall apart, on this dick baby.”

With a final thrust, the world around me shattered into a million pieces, pleasure crashing over me-us like a tidal wave as I surrendered to the bliss. Ice’s name fell from my lips like a prayer, each syllable a testament to the connection we shared.

As the waves of ecstasy subsided, Ice pulled out slowly leaving me aching for more. She pulled me close, her breath warm against my skin. “You were amazing,” she murmured, pressing a soft kiss to my temple.

I smiled, feeling a warmth settle within me, the afterglow of our shared intimacy. In that moment, I knew that with Ice, every encounter was a beautiful blend of love and desire, a dance that would always leave me wanting more.

When she finally pulled away, she rested her forehead against mine, her eyes searching mine. “You know I love you, right?” she said, her voice barely above a whisper.

I nodded, a soft smile spreading across my face. “I love you too, even if you are a pain in the ass.”

She grinned, her hands sliding down to squeeze my waist. “And don’t you forget it.”

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-Thank You For Reading!🩵🩶

-prettygirl-gabi🎀✨️