#DADDY OF A COP WITH HIS DADDY COP WALK AND HIS DADDY COP ARMS AND HIS DADDY COP BUTT

[thirstghosting]

ive been watching skip intro and now I have this banger of a portion of a song stuck in my head forever

[gutsby]

Love Tap

Pairing: Dad!Joel x Reader

Summary: Old habits die hard with your husband—touching you at inappropriate times is one of them.

Warnings: 18+. Joel Miller is a MUNCH Oral (f!receiving). Unprotected p-in-v (quickie). Slice of life, domestic-style and Joel calls you ‘Mama’ a whole lot. One playful bite.

Word count: 2.4k

Note: ‘You better back the fuck up before you get smacked the fuck up’ is a line from 2Pac’s song, ‘Hit ‘Em Up.’

Joel Miller was a wonderful father.

Occasionally, he forgot how to act like one.

He had a tendency to get a little careless. Sloppy.

Letting the dignified, ever-respectful façade slip every now and again and smacking your ass when you walked past. Copping a feel when you had to squeeze by him in the kitchen. Best of all, pinching your cheek through your skirt while you were cradling the baby—his baby—and leaving you no choice but to shoot him a quick back-the-fuck-up-before-you-get-smacked-the-fuck-up look and a covert middle finger to remind him that he wasn’t supposed to be slapping your butt in front of the kids.

It was just bad practice to engage in those dumb, flirty antics, particularly when your four-year-old son had made it his mission in life to imitate everything dad did.

But again, Joel would sometimes forget that.

On a morning when he’d woken up a little too early with an erection that was a tad too stubborn to ignore, he got especially forgetful. He found himself plastered to your backside at the edge of the bathroom counter with a grin, knowing damn well you only had twenty-five minutes to get the family dressed, fed, and on the road.

“Joel, you are so—”

“Quick. I’ll be quick.”

His eyes suddenly pleading with yours in the mirror. You just might’ve had the willpower to turn his honeyed gaze away were it not for the lips that followed it. Tracing the shell of your ear and behind it, down your neck, leaving trails of soft kisses down the skin until he reached the collarbone, your sweet spot, and licked it—the bastard.

“Five. Minutes.” Your words were equal parts invitation and warning as you shimmied your PJs over your butt.

“You know I’ll have ya finished in two, sweet pea,” Joel teased—but deep down, you knew he wasn’t kidding.

Both of you had cum and were done in a record-breaking four and a half minutes, swapping pyjamas for normal clothes in less than half the time and stepping back out of the bathroom with your hair only marginally tousled.

By now you had the ‘Pre-K starts in thirty’ types of quickies down pat. You were proud. You glanced over your shoulder to see a similar glint in Joel’s eye, and as you started out the bedroom door, you felt a tap on your ass—or, with the sheer breadth of your husband’s hand, more like a WHACK, followed by the sound of a stifled laugh.

“Can Daddy get some more’a that later?” he quipped.

“More’a what?”

Aw, hell.

Your sweet, forever nosy mini-Joel was standing directly in front of you with two pinched brows and a mostly eaten dino nugget clenched tight in his tiny fist.

You opened your mouth to conjure up some half-assed excuse for the spank your son just saw, but then your husband was scooping the kid up in his arms and toting him straight down the hallway, and you heard, faintly:

“Whatcha gettin’ from Mama later?”

“None of your beeswax, bubs.”

Joel got his second helping around lunchtime.

He’d been in between calls with what felt like an endless stream of subcontractors, suppliers, architects, and project managers when he swung by the house. You were in the midst of baking cardamom buns when he blew through the kitchen like an EF5 tornado and decided he’d be feasting on something else entirely.

“Joel, my buns,” you whined as soon as he’d carried you up the stairs and tossed you onto the bed, eager as ever.

“Fuck your buns.”

“You already fucked ‘em this morning—can you relax?”

Your husband already had your pants tugged halfway down your legs. You let him, then helped him kick the fabric the rest of the way off when it got to your ankles.

“You’re a fuckin’ maniac, Miller, y’know that?”

Something in the way he smirked as he sank his face between your bare thighs told you he already knew that. You would’ve liked to try and scold him again—give him a little more grief for the baked treats that would surely be burnt to a crisp by the time he was done—but then you felt his tongue lick a stripe up your slit, and you refrained.

Even if you’d wanted to, you scarcely would’ve been able to form a single word apart from, ‘Fu-cking hell, Joel’ and ‘Right there, right thereohfuuuuuuckfuckfuck.’

That was just fine by your husband.

In fact, he seemed perfectly content to lap at your slick, glistening folds while you moaned and cursed his name; it made him proud. Appreciative. Maybe even a tad too smug for his own good, if he were being honest, because the way you fisted his hair and rutted your hips against his face made you act a little more like him. A touch more reckless, sloppy, and desperate than your daily obligations as parents would seem to allow. A bit less proper and refined and a lot more slutty—all for him.

Joel teased your clit with a few soft touches from the tip of his tongue, and you almost tore the sheets in two.

“That feel good, Mama?” he hummed.

“F-Fingers, fuck, Joel— fingers,” you begged.

Still using his tongue, Joel drew the shape of a lemniscate extra slow just to spite you. You whined and bucked your hips in protest, but the man was undeterred—he knew exactly what he was doing. The only way he could be tempted to use his fingers now would be to spread your lips apart and lick you more, which he did.

Joel licked and sucked and drove you up the fucking wall with those figure eights until you nearly couldn’t take it. In one hasty, desperate move, you tilted your hips and tried to slip a finger past Joel’s mouth, into your cunt.

He bit that finger. You yelped.

“JOEL!”

It wasn’t that the bite actually hurt—his teeth barely grazed skin—but rather the way he refused to speed up. Gauging your wants and your needs with expert precision, he massaged the hood of your clit with his tongue and took care to plant suckling kisses as he did. You moaned and squeezed the bedspread, relishing the vulgar sounds of his mouth and the need he was building inside you. You turned your head to the side and whined into the pillow, knowing from the depths of your soul you needed release, but Joel just wouldn’t oblige you…yet.

When he grinned against your wet, warm, and slippery folds, his mouth might as well have joined in and said, ‘Keep going—you’ll cum on my tongue when I say so.’

Instead, Joel opted to say ‘Mama’ again, softly.

Mama.

He always called you that when he took you extra slow. Sometimes when he took you quick, too. Like a reminder to you both that you were, in fact, the mother of his children, and if the man had had it his way he’d have given you fifty more by now, daycare bills be damned.

He was generous like that. Always giving, giving, giving.

Just not when it came to doling out orgasms sometimes.

“I have a divorce lawyer on speed dial, just so you know,” you hissed through gritted teeth, head falling back when Joel’s tongue sank forward—inside you, then, “FUCK!”

“Mhmmm,” he hummed before retracting once more. Licking the soft, fleshy rim and nearly eliciting a scream.

Joel traced a circle with his tongue. He savored the taste. While you were whining and grinding your hips against the wet spot underneath you—a puddle that would only grow larger the longer he went on—your husband was devouring you, kissing your thighs every now and then.

“Well, if we split, my tongue goes too,” Joel said. Smug.

“Texas is a community property state,” you murmured, “I taught you how to eat pussy so your mouth is a marital asset.”

Silently, Joel wondered how that argument might hold up in court, grinned, then continued licking your cunt. You squeezed his head with your thighs, dug the balls of your feet in the sheets, and let out a lewd, pornographic scream that could’ve woken half the street. Luckily, your neighbors were probably all at work, your bedroom walls insulated just well enough to mask the noise, and Joel’s resolve crumbling slowly as he kissed between your legs.

One wanton, shameless, ‘I’m gonna cum, Joel, please’ was like music to his ears. He couldn’t believe how lucky he’d gotten with a wife and mother as sweet as you, so upright and polite in your day-to-day life and then a hot, trembling mess beneath his tongue when he needed you like this the most. Surely he couldn’t treat you so mean.

Joel wedged two thick fingers in your slick, dripping heat and beckoned you to him as kindly as he possibly could. Rubbing the pads of both digits, callused as they were, against the spongy insides of your core and flicking them forward—‘C’mere, Mama, Daddy’s right here, go on’— so of course, you had no other logical choice but to cum.

It was all habit by now. A dazzling, sumptuous routine.

And Joel Miller was certain he’d never tire of seeing it.

Your spine arched off the mattress an inch or two, toes curling at the feeling, and while the sensation spanned over your body, your husband was the first to see it, sense it on his lips and tongue and fingers just as well. He squeezed your hip, told you how fucking pretty you looked when you came for him, then patiently waited out the spasms and cries and fingers lacing through his soft, dark locks like he was your last remaining tether to earth.

Then he kissed the inside of your thighs and smiled.

“All better, honey?” he hummed.

“Yeah,” you breathed back.

“Still want a divorce?”

A smirk and a response of ‘Not until you knock me up at least one more time’ was hovering somewhere over your tongue when you felt the bed shake. Buzzing. Vibrating?

Joel sat up between your legs and yanked something out from under his ass. He peered down at the thing—staring into a screen—and cocked a brow as he looked back up.

“Someone’s been naughty,” he said simply. Grinning.

He lobbed the phone your way, and you just barely managed to catch it between two trembling hands.

Incoming Call: Francisco C. Morales Elementary

You shot Joel a look and answered it instantly.

Disoriented, disheveled, and slightly foggy from climax, you half-expected to find one of your son’s disgruntled teachers on the other end of the line, reminding you that today was a noon dismissal and everyone was supposed to pick their kids up an hour ago. Your husband was the one who would always keep up with school schedules, so your gaze narrowed at him, butt scooting up the bed while he tried to dive right back between your legs.

“He-llo?”

You smacked a hand away from the front of your blouse.

“Is this Mrs. Miller?” a voice trilled through the phone.

Yes, unfortunately, it was.

You almost had to backhand Joel across the face when he tried to bite the button off your brand new top, teeth ruthless in their pursuit of getting you fully naked now.

“This is she,” you squeaked.

Someone cleared their throat on the other end of the line—as though they knew you had a broad, hulking husband with a cock as hard as sheet metal trying to tear your clothes off while you talked. You stifled a shriek and a giggle when you felt your relentless man move down.

Joel was busy working your blouse from the bottom with that feral mouth of his when the voice sounded again:

“We’d really appreciate it if you and your husband could come see us this afternoon to have a little chat about—”

Your eyes widened. You clutched your phone even tighter and this time, more seriously, shoved Joel away. When he frowned and started to pout, you raised a finger.

“A-About what? Has my— has he done something bad?” Your voice all of a sudden tight, words wavering just enough to snag your husband’s attention too.

“We can explain more when you get here, he’s just…”

‘What the fuck?’ Joel mouthed silently, leaning in.

“What? What’s he done?” You couldn’t help it.

You heard a long sigh across the line, and you knew that wasn’t good. It sounded a lot like the kind of sighs you made whenever your baby made a colossal mess all over the kitchen floor, or your husband slammed a door too loud and woke the kids from their nap, or your son just—

“—keeps slapping his classmates on the butt.”

“Wait, what?”

You blinked. Joel coughed. Together, half-naked on the bed, you sat up a little straighter and leaned even closer into the phone, hearts starting to thud in your chests.

“Your son was just…spanking other kids and asking if he could ‘get some more’a that later,’ and when his teacher asked him where he’d learned to do a thing like that—”

You turned. Joel paled. Your gaze could’ve seared a hole through the front of his skull if you stared any harder, and just as your son’s principal continued talking, Joel raised his hands in surrender, already trying to apologize.

“Honey—”

“—and he told her he saw your husband do it at home—”

You didn’t need to hear another word. You were already fishing for your pants, yanking them back up your legs and brushing aside your husband’s soft, red-faced attempts at consolation, and when you were dressed, you started straight for the door. Already babbling some half-coherent apology to the woman on the phone, dodging Joel’s impossibly large hands and arms and hugs as he tried to pull you back into his chest and tell you he was sorry. You just might’ve let him, and maybe even believed him to be sincere, if you didn’t see the tiniest smirk on his lips as he fought to wrangle you in.

You’d made it to the door and were just about to pivot to give Joel the finger, tell him this was not funny at all, and he was coming with you right now, when both of you halted at the threshold and were obliged to turn again.

You sniffed the air, and your husband made a face.

Was it—

Before you could think, a plume of smoke drifted out through the kitchen door. Your eyes widened, and right as the fire alarm let out its piercing scream, you wailed,

“My buns!”

[dollfacefantasy]

Playing to Win

pairing: stepdad!leon kennedy x fem!reader

summary: your new stepdad isn't much older than you, yet he has the audacity to ask you to call him daddy?

cw: nsfw (18+), smut, p in v, dubcon, daddy kink, humiliation kink, spanking, praise/degradation

word count: 4.3k

a/n: i got a little silly hehe. this is technically my first commission. if you’re interested, check out my ko-fi. as always i appreciate the support, smoochies.

this is my first commission written for my beloved @nexysworld. without her, this would never have come about. she's a great writer and such a sweet person. you all should go check out her blog if you haven't already.

“You want me to call you what?” you ask incredulously as you stare down the man standing across from you.

“You heard me,” Leon says with no sense of teasing in his voice.

You laugh in his face, a cruel, unabashed laugh. You could not believe his audacity to ask you to call him daddy. 

Technically, he was your new stepfather, but it was comical to you to even acknowledge him as such. He was right around your age, only a couple years difference, no way in hell were you going to call him daddy.

You had been open with your mother about your displeasure over Leon’s presence in your life. You called her a cradle robber and a cougar but to no avail. She continued her relationship with him; a young, bright eyed, rookie cop who always thought he knew best.

He wasn’t the problem so much. Sure, he was kind of annoying, but he was also pretty cute. He was funny, and if these were any other circumstances, you could see yourself and him getting along great, even being friends. Generally, he was nice to you, maybe a little over friendly if you were being honest. It always seemed like he knew something you didn’t, but you assumed that was just his nature.

“You’re funny, Leon,” you taunt, “Seriously, good joke.”

“It’s not a joke,” he corrects you and folds his arms over his chest, “Now that I’m taking a more serious role in your life, I expect you to show me some respect.”

“Oh, you do?” you laugh, “Leon-”

“Daddy,” he corrects.

You almost can’t speak, stunned to silence by the nerve of him. Was he doing this to annoy you? Was it supposed to be funny? Because there’s absolutely no way he could be serious about this.

“We are almost the same age. You realize this, yes?” you ask, enunciating the words slowly to get your point across, “I’m not calling you anything but your actual name. And maybe not even that cause you’re pissing me off, and I don’t wanna talk to you.”

“All this attitude, sweetheart, and for what?” he says as approaches you, “I’m not asking you to run a marathon for me. All I want is to be addressed properly.”

You scowl at the pet name. He brings a hand to your face, stroking your cheek with his knuckles before you swat it away.

“What is your problem, Leon?” you say angrily and shove him away, “Is this some fucked up fetish of yours? Like it’s not pathetic enough you’re fucking a divorced woman twice your age, right? You have to feel in control of me too to get it up?”

You laugh at him again when he responds with a glare. Rolling your eyes, you walk closer to him and get in his face.

“Aw, did I hurt daddy’s feelings?” you mock in the sweetest tone you could manage, giving him puppy dog eyes and putting emphasis on the title he was so obsessed with, “I’m so sorry daddy. Please don’t be mad at me.”

You’re about to laugh again before Leon spins you around so you quick the motion nearly gives you whiplash. Your back is flush against his chest, and even though you were teasing, your little performance clearly had some effect as you could feel his dick, now half hard, against your ass. It causes a small flash of heat in your belly that you try to pretend didn’t happen.

“Listen up, I’m not going to tell you again, baby. You do what I’m asking you, or we’re going to find another way to get it through your pretty little head,” he says.

His grip was firm. Despite his usual officer friendly persona, he could obviously be serious when he wanted to be. It didn’t shock you. You knew he was fit and could be intense. You’d caught him working out with his shirt off, sweat dripping down his muscular back while ‘Kim’ by Eminem blasted in his airpods. You tried to deny it, but it had left you feeling a little hot under the collar for the next few days.

You squirm in his hold, but he keeps your wrists pinned to your lower back. “Oh yeah? What are you gonna do, send me to my room? Ground me?” you say as you try to wriggle away.

“Oh no, we’re past that. You want to be a brat, I’ll handle you like one. I’ll put you over my knee and smack that cute ass until it’s raw, and you understand who’s in charge around here,” he says.

“You’re gonna spank me?” you shriek. You thrash harder in absolute shock. “No way! Are you fucking crazy? My mother will kick your ass.”

“Your mother isn’t here, babe. I’ll do whatever the hell I want,” he says. His fingers only tighten on you, digging into your flesh. An arm loops around your waist and starts pulling you over to the sofa. “Maybe she’ll be grateful that someone’s finally trying to teach you some manners.”

Even though you knew he was in shape, he was much stronger than you thought. He sits down on the sofa and folds you across his lap with no real effort. You’re secure there too, unable to get to your feet or away from him. You still try though, flailing your limbs about and bucking your hips.

“There, there. Let’s calm down, honey,” he coos, now clearly taunting you. He rubs the swell of your ass over the tight dress you were wearing. “Just tell Daddy you’re sorry, baby. I’m not a bad guy. I’m willing to hear you out.”

You don’t even respond. You pound your fists against his leg while kicking your feet.

“Poor baby. There’s no reason to throw a tantrum,” he says in the most condescending voice you’d ever heard. He gives you a light warning tap on the ass. “Just tell me what I want to hear, and Daddy will make it all better, give you all the kisses you need until you’re back to being a good girl.”

He was driving you fucking wild. Your body was taut with anger while your mind ran wild with frustration, not only at him, but at yourself. You could feel your panties getting sticky with arousal as he spoke down to you.

“Shut up, Leon!” you say and continue struggling.

His hand comes down again, cracking a little harder against the supple flesh of your ass. You suck a sharp breath in. It didn’t hurt yet, but it stung. Anymore force behind the swing of his palm and you knew he could fulfill his threats of marking up your ass.

“You wanna try that again, princess?” he says, “I’ll give you one more chance.”

“No! I’m not calling you Daddy you sick fucker! I-”

A loud slap echoes through the room. That was the smack you were scared of. So hard you could feel the burn beneath your skin. There was absolutely no doubt about his strength now. He lands another two, one on each cheek, drawing whimpers from your throat.

“Watch your mouth,” he says, “I’m sick of the whining and the back talk. I’ve given you more than enough chances to fix your behavior. I’m done playing nice with you.”

In a quick motion, he yanks your skirt up to bunch it at the small of your back. You squeal out “Leon!” but it makes no difference. Again, you attempt to wriggle away. All it does though is give him a view of your ass wiggling around in those cute panties you wore. The ones he had seen peeking over the waist of your jeans.

He lays more lashes to your skin in rapid succession. You wriggle slightly and involuntarily whine. Your ‘stepfather’ felt no guilt though. Partially because it was all part of the plan, partially because he could see the light purple fabric between your thighs darkening with arousal. Plus, the pathetic noises spilling from your mouth only made him want to work harder, rip more sweet cries from you. He continues cracking his solid hand against your bottom, sending ripples through the soft flesh. Your cheeks burn with embarrassment, your eyes start to water, and your bottom lip juts out into a quivering pout.

“Oh, look at that sweet face,” he coos, taking a break from spanking you to stroke your cheek, “I know it hurts, baby. But it can all stop once you decide to stop being a stubborn little brat.”

He punctuates his statement with another swat. Your body jolts forward at the contact, head falling forward to hang in shame. You hate yourself for playing into it, but you can’t stop the automatic response that exits you in a humiliating whimper.

“I’m not a brat.”

“Oh you’re not? Could’ve fooled me,” he responds. He cracks his hand against your cheeks a few more times before giving you a break and rubbing the sore skin.

“I’m not. You’re just… you’re just mean.”

The words tumble from you in a pitiful cry, physically hurting you to say something so pathetic. To show such weakness when he was being such a prick. You shut your eyes, and a warm tear falls down your face. That only made you feel worse, making you want to cry more. A vicious cycle you couldn’t break out of when all your mind could think of was your stinging flesh and his patronizing voice.

“I’m being mean to you? Aw baby, after all the things you said, you think I’m the mean one?” he mocks.

“I-I’m sorry,” you whimper out without really thinking about it.

“I don’t need you to be sorry, sweetheart. You know what I want,” he says.

What’s supposed to be a groan comes out as a frustrated whine. You shake your head weakly and open your eyes again. His fingers slip beneath your chin to lift your face to look at him.

“Just say it. Say it and it will all be over. We can get on to helping you feel better,” he says.

The pain radiating from your ass, now glowing red, was almost enough to make you give in on the spot. But you could hear it in his voice. He was so fucking smug, having so much fun watching you cry and shift around in discomfort. You couldn’t just let him win.

So you shake your head defiantly, sniffling as your watery eyes connect with his in a stare. You immediately regret your decision because the amused glint that forms his eyes lets you know that he enjoys the resistance more than your submission. The corners of his lips tick upwards into a slight smile. Now it’s his turn to shake his head and mockingly tut at you before swinging his forearm and blasting your sore flesh with the heel of his palm.

You cry out, the noise strangled with despair. Your teeth dig into your bottom lip to restrain the louder sobs that were bubbling in your throat.

“Just give in, sweetheart. There’s no need to act tough for me. Do what I know you want to, and say the word,” he orders, his words coming out low and slow.

You know you should, but god, you don’t want to. It’s like your most basic instincts don’t want you to either. You have to think through it, force your tongue to conjure the word and expel it from your lips.

“I’m sorry… Daddy,” you whimper. A couple more tears leak from your eyes. The humiliation that mounts in your chest is like nothing you’ve ever felt before. But as the heat rises to your cheeks and clouds your mind, making you feel dizzy, you feel a deeper sense of heat spreading out in your lower belly. And it only gets worse when he starts in on you again.

“Oh, that’s my girl. Such a good girl when you want to be. I knew you could do it,” he coos, “Say it again for me, baby. Least you can do after being so cruel.”

At this point, you figure you’d already said it once, so what’s one more time. You say it again if for no other reason than to stop his harsh blows from raining down on your sensitive skin.

“I’m so sorry, Daddy,” you cry.

“That’s right. I know you are, honey. I know you don’t mean that stuff. You just wanted some attention, right? Wanted some time with Daddy all to yourself,” he says as his hand comes up and starts stroking your hair.

You weakly shake your head. You weren’t acting up because of that. He was being an asshole. That’s why you were acting up. Or were you even acting up? Your reaction was justified, wasn’t it? All the attention on you mixed with the shame boiling in your head makes it hard to think through this stuff.

“Oh, are you shy? Don’t wanna tell the truth?” he coos with a cruel chuckle. One of his hands rubs your aching ass while the other trails up and down your thigh soothingly. The latter hand slowly creeps to the junction of your legs. “I know that’s what it is, doll. I can feel it.”

As he says that, you feel fingers petting the damp fabric that conceals your cunt. You take a sharp breath to which his chuckle grows into a short laugh. He presses his fingers against the cloth, and you can tell immediately that even his movements are done in a way to mess with you. His digits drag against your panties, not giving you the pressure you need on your clit. You squirm awkwardly in an effort to find a better angle and not feel the soaked garment cling to your folds.

“Feeling a little impatient?” he teases.

You nod, any remaining shreds of dignity you have slowly being peeled away. You just couldn’t resist. The potential pleasure that’s just out of reach. The heat of his thick cock against your hip. His voice, like soft velvet slipping over your mind.

“Well honey, show me you can ask nicely, and I’ll be happy to help you out. Won’t even make you wait, we can get right to what you really want,” he says. His tone sounds slightly more genuine here.

“Pretty please, Daddy,” you force out. Your eyes cast down in shame as if you’re studying the pattern of the living room carpet.

“Pretty please what, babydoll?” he says, the teasing returning for a moment.

“Pretty please… fuck me,” you squeak.

He smirks, his victory written all over his face.

“Woah, listen to the mouth on you,” he tuts, “Normally, I wouldn’t let that kind of language fly, sweetheart, but I think you’ve had enough punishment for one day.”

His hands squeeze your waist and flip you over on his lap. He wipes away your tears with his thumb and presses a kiss to your forehead, that stupid smug expression on his face the entire time.

The next move is guiding your body onto the couch. You whimper as your back meets the cool leather. He pays that no mind and instead lifts your hips and tugs your skirt and panties off in one motion. You notice in your peripheral that he takes a souvenir, shoving the light purple underwear in his pocket.

After giving your ass a firm squeeze, his hands drift up and pull your shirt off. His eyes fixate on your tits, his soft hands coming to cup them and flick his fingers over your nipples which were beginning to perk up.

“No bra? I guess I should’ve expected that from you,” he chuckles as he continues fondling your soft breasts. The touch relieves some of the building pressure, the weight in your chest just begging to be squeezed and massaged. He watches the pliable flesh move beneath his fingers before giving your nipples a quick pinch and moving to undress himself.

He doesn’t waste any time, his clothing pooled on the floor in mere moments. He gets on top of you. Large hands hook behind your knees, angling your hips upward. Your legs come to rest on his shoulders as he grabs his cock and swipes the tip through the slick that had collected between your thighs.

“So fucking wet, I didn’t even need to warm you up,” he grunts as he pushes the tip in.

You bite your lip, unable to stop the whine it brings out of you. He exhales with amusement, and his free hand goes to your face to rub your cheek. It was only the tip so far, but you couldn’t even deny how good it felt. And while he moves with a purpose, he draws out this first thrust as long as possible. He inches it in, going as slow as he can. The pleasure he gets just from watching you squirm with desperation is clear in the way he looks down at you.

“There we go. Just what you need. Daddy filling you up. Gonna make you a good girl from now on,” he coos and drags his thumb over your bottom lip. 

Without even thinking, you open your mouth and flatten your tongue against the digit before wrapping your lips around it. You suck on it gently, softly moaning as your saliva coats his thumb.

At this point, it’s physically impossible for him to look more pleased with himself. Honestly, it seemed like he took more enjoyment from watching you slip farther into his grasp than he did from the feeling of your cunt pulsing around him.

Once he’s all the way in, completely buried in your warm, wet embrace, the hand that had been guiding his cock slides up. He gently thumbs your clit, grinning as your sweet mewls become the slightest bit louder.

He begins dragging himself in and out, savoring the feeling of your walls gripping him, sucking him in. It seems you only clamp down harder as he plays with your pretty little bundle of nerves. He keeps toying with it as his hips work back and forth.

Your eyes flutter, becoming half-lidded with the smooth stream of pleasure flowing through you. You whimper and whine while still sucking on his thumb. He started to repeatedly tease pulling it out before pushing it all the way in, nearly gagging you.

“So precious, aren’t you?” he whispers, leaning forward.

Your thighs are now pressed to your chest. His cock so deep it reaches places you didn’t even know about. He picks up the pace a bit, balls smacking against you with each move. To your dismay, he removes his thumb from your mouth, dragging it down and smearing spit down your chin. Your disappointment is only momentary as he’s quick to capture your lips in a searing kiss. 

His soft lips move against your wet ones while he continues pumping deep. Your head swims with the pleasure he provides. Everything becomes a soft warm haze as he toys with your clit and stretches you out. The gentle kisses combine with the tender feeling of his warm skin sliding against yours.

“Gonna have to do this every time you get bratty, baby. Keep you dumb on my cock, exactly where you should be, making sure you don’t get outta line,” he grunts, eyes closing as a wave of pleasure hits him, “This all you needed, just some time with Daddy.”

You nod lazily, all hopes of keeping a resistant exterior up gone out the window. “More kisses, Daddy,” you mumble as you connect your lips in a messy kiss.

He chuckles at the lack of resistance left in you. He returns your nod and indulges you. His tongue slips into your mouth, meeting your own as you make out.

It’s all so good. You can’t get enough. Everything is him right now. It’s all for him. You know you’re getting close and so does he. He can feel the way your pussy rhythmically constricts around him. It’s working him closer too, but he can’t let it end yet. Not before he gets to the final step.

His movements become strategic. You’re teetering on the edge, getting enough pleasure to keep you whining and clutching at him, but not enough for that final push to heaven. Just one more stroke in the right wave, and you know you could get there.

While your head continues to fog up from his efforts, he pulls away from kissing you. He nestles his head in between yours and the couch cushion.

“You know, honey, now that we’re seeing eye to eye, I think I should let you in on something,” he whispers, hot breath fanning across your ear.

“Mmm, what?” you ask. You were only half paying attention, too caught up in the heat of the moment.

“I’ve had my eye on you for a while, sweet thing,” he rasps.

“Really?” you ask, unsure why he was bringing this up but choosing to go along with it in your dreamy state. He had been dating your mom for a while, so maybe he had this little infatuation for longer than you thought.

“Mhm, earlier than I think you know,” he says with a nip to your earlobe.

“That’s nice,” you murmur and nuzzle your face against his hair, breathing in his scent.

“Aren’t you curious when? When was the first time I saw your pretty face? The first time I wanted to slide into this tight pussy?” he murmurs.

“When?” you ask. You tried to feign interest, but fuck, you really just wanted to cum.

“I remember it, clear as day. It was at a party, you remember that guy from high school who had the 3D tv in his basement. It was at his house. You were down there, looking so fucking cute, talking to some douchebag. And I heard you talking to him. About Fortnite,” he says.

You just nod and moan. You honestly didn’t even remember that he went to your high school, but you didn’t really care at the moment. It still felt so good, him drilling in and out of you. You just couldn’t help but wonder why he thought now was the time to bring this up.

“You told that guy your gamer tag. But I realized I also remembered that name. I had played a match with you before. You beat me, stole my victory royale,” he says with a soft laugh.

“Umm… ok,” you reply, totally lost and not just because your mind was all cloudy from being railed into the couch.

“Tell me, honey: do you remember the name rookiepillz?” he asks.

“No?” you say. Was this really the time for this conversation? That was all you could think. But before you could voice your complaint his hand starts rubbing your clit again with even more pressure than before. All words in your throat tangle up into a string of whimpers.

“You should. I sent you a message after that game. Told you ‘I’m gonna fuck you and your mom sweaty,’” he says with a particularly hard thrust, “Well, look at us now.”

You listen, absolutely lost, until the dots start connecting. You turn your head to look at him, not believing this was real. You did remember that message. It made you and your friends giggle for the next hour, created an inside joke for the next few years.

“No way,” you say. You try to keep your voice even, but despite his insane words, his cock was still hitting just right, “Rookie- fuck! Rookiepillz?”

He puts in a couple of those strokes that hit just right, brushed all your sweet spots, filled you up the perfect amount. All the while his thumb rubs your clit in tiny, quick circles. You couldn’t hold on. A sharp cry leaves you as you gush around his cock. You grip the couch for support as your body rolls with the rush.

“Yes way, sweetheart. Rookiepillz,” he grunts.

When most of the high has finished and you’re starting to come down, you open your eyes and look up at him with disbelief. He’s grinning, so satisfied that he’s gotten the last laugh.

“Wha- you’re… you’re fucking insane… literally why would you remember that? And why would you take it so seriously? It’s Fortnite!” you moan, still feeling the aftershocks of your release.

“I play the long game, baby, and I play to win,” he moans as a strained expression washes over his face. He snaps his hips a few more times before slamming in all the way with one final thrust. “This is my ultimate victory royale.”

With that, he empties himself inside you, hot cum flooding your cunt. You whimper yet again. It still felt good even if you just found out his motivation behind all of this was borderline psychotic.

He pumps in and out a few more times before pulling out. His chest puffs with deep breaths on top of yours. Both of you lay together in silence for a few moments. What had just happened? You could barely even comprehend it. Instead of driving yourself as crazy as he is by dwelling on it, you shove him off of you. You get up and start putting on your clothes again.

“You’re fucking crazy,” you say.

He laughs and sits up on the couch. “Don’t act like you didn’t have fun, baby,” he says while stretching, “You were such a good girl for your daddy.”

Your eyes widen and cheeks burn with embarrassment at his teasing. God, why had you ever said that? Now that you weren’t all worked up, you just wanted to go back in time and kick your own ass for even thinking of giving in.

“Shut up,” you grumble.

He stands up, still laughing and clearly on top of the world with his “victory.” You smooth out your outfit as he starts putting his own clothing back on. He holds up his belt and cracks it teasingly.

“Watch your mouth, there’s still time before your mother gets home. That sweet ass might not have enough marks,” he taunts.

You shoot him a glare before storming out of the room.

“Oh come on, babe. If you’re not into that, maybe we could play some Fortnite?” he calls.

[mommypieck]

𑄽୧ age gap with nanami 𔓘 ᰍ

kinktober day 5: my daddy!!!

✯⁠ nanami kento x reader

✯⁠ warnings: brief dubcon, crying, spanking, doggy, rough sex, p in v

"Are you there, Mr. Kento?" you yell from the door, entering it without even waiting for a response. He sits there at his desk, clearly not paying attention to you. he turns his head when he sees you walk in.

"What's up, y/n ?" he asks as he turns his chair around to face you. Your cheeks turn red, and you say in the most innocent voice ever, "I've been craving you, Kento."

Nanami looks at you confused, he knows what college girls think about and stuff they do, but he never expected it from you. You walk up to him, throwing yourself on his lap.

"What are you doing, y/n ?" he asks you with a panicked voice, trying to push you off him. You stay seated in his lap, running your hands through his hair.

"I know you want it, Kento," you whisper in his ear, licking at his neck. he moans at the touch of your tongue, his head falling back. You can see how hard he tries to resist your touch, but he fails miserably.

"Y/n, if you don't stop right now. I'm gonna call the cops," he warns you, and the look he gives you makes you even wetter. He's so cute when he's trying to be intimidating. You climb off his lap, chuckling at yourself when he stays seated. You swing your hips in front of him, unbuttoning the oversized shirt you're wearing. You let it fall to the ground, revealing that you're not wearing anything underneath. His pupils widen at the sight in front of him. It's been so time since he had a naked woman next to him, let alone as beautiful as you. You bend over in front of him, and he has to invert his eyes, his pants getting too tight for his liking. He wants to call himself a coward for not backing out, but he can't move. The thing you said is true, he wants you.

"Do you like what you see?" you ask, and he finally looks at you. Nanami moans just at the sight. You're on the ground before him, ass in the air. Your talented fingers play with the wetness while you smirk at him. You're a slut, that's all you are. A dirty slut who wants to get fucked by an older man, more specifically, her best friend's father.

"oh Kento, come fuck me." you moan dramatically as you get on your back, spreading your legs again. Your feet bump into his chest, and you kick him lightly, giggling. He knows he's about to snap if you don't stop right now. Your feet settle on his crotch, running up and down his hard-on.

"You're so hard for me-"

"That's it." he groans. You feel yourself getting dragged up by his strong arms before being thrown over his lap. You yelp when his hand comes down on your ass - hard. He spanks you over and over, not stopping no matter how hard you plead.

"Kento, stop please." you cry out, trying to crawl away from his lap. He doesn't listen instead he brings his hand down on your ass harder.

"I can't believe my daughter is friends with a slut like you," he says, and you involuntary moan at the sentence.

"That's what I thought." he snorts, massaging your butt. He pushes you out of his lap, and you fall on the ground next to his feet.

"Bend over the table," he orders, and you do what he asks with wobbly knees. You try to stand, but your front falls against the table.

"That's what bad girls get," he says, standing behind you. You hear his zipper go down, and you salivate in anticipation. The head of his cock runs through your folds before he slides right in. You knew he was big but didn't think he would be this hard to take.

"What's that? Can't take me?" he laughs, slapping your ass again. Your cheek presses against the table, and your whole body hurts even though he isn't moving inside you. he thrusts in, and your eyes roll back. He's not sweet, he fucks you like you deserve it. It's true, he's too big for you to handle, but he also feels so good.

"Are you crying?" he asks you when he notices a wet spot on the table. You can't answer with your eyes clouded with tears and saliva falling from your mouth. He broke you. You feel yourself falling, and you're close to fainting, but this is what you asked for.

"get up, whore. I'm not done with you."

taglist: @mcharris747 @huuuuut30 @krispsprite @bejewelledd @cawwn @veryninjanacho @jamayah @dngerwayz @nwptune @universlypiratecolor @ffakegucci @merachannie @d1lf-luvr @th3girln3xtdoor @nobody289x @iheartpieck @gia999 @kawasgirl @st4rrlighttt @candyeyeroll @7haze @banchangsbbbg @nigthmar3moon @softlilpeachxx @d1gitalbathh @jaenniii

@satorustar @balenciagarette @grosspube

[cmncisspnandmore]

All Hands on Deck- Part 2

Pairings: Poly!141 X Wife!Reader.

Warnings: Smut, this whole things is filth, some angst and fluff thrown in.

A/N: I had no intentions of this Poly141 one shot i wrote turning into a series, but i couldnt get their family out of my head so i started writing and now look at us. 9k words into a part 2. Ooopssss. This is also not beta read, all mistakes are mine.

Word Count: 9713

Part 1

“It’s really not that complicated, Johnny,” Simon sighs, resting his head in his hands, his fingers pushing through the unkempt blonde locks.

“Sod Off,” the scotsman huffs as he grabs the three strands of hair on Kira's head again. You watch over the top of your mug. Two of your husbands are sitting on the couch, your oldest twin Kira sitting on the floor between her Da’s legs. One of your middle children, Isla sat between Simons. Johnny had been trying to learn to braid her hair, something you or Simon did most days.

“Left, over middle, right, over middle, and just repeat,” Simon coaches him, showing him once again on Islas long brown hair. 

“Yeah yeah,” Soap grumbles as he tries again, earning a yelp from Kira.

“Ouch! You pulled my hair!” her hands on top of her head as she turns to glare up at her father. 

“Sorry hen, didn't mean ta,” Soap apologizes leaning down to kiss her forehead. Simon finishes the braids in Islas hair, the 6 year old leaning back against his shins. 

“Daddy i’m bored, can i go play with Theo and Joseph now?” She whines, batting her lashes at him. Simon gives her a small nod, and her smile grows. “Thank you Daddy, good luck Da!” she calls as she scrambles to her feet and flees from the room.

“Isla lets play cops and robbers!” Joseph yells as he meets her in the hallway, he peeks into the room giving you and the others a small wave before he bounds off after his sister.

You take a small sip of your caffeinated beverage, the warm liquid warming your stomach as you drink. John had made you a cup and promptly deposited it into your hands as you walked down the stairs this morning,you were still in your sleep clothes. He had murmured about having to go finish some papers in the office on the 3rd floor before he disappeared. 

“Aye! Look at that!” Johnny exclaims as he ties the hair band around the end of the horribly loose and uneven braid going down Kira’s back. Kira’s hands go to the braid, small fingers running over it, she looks over at Simon, a frown on her face. 

“Well you tried,” Simon laughs, before motioning for Kira to sit in front of him. His large hands carefully pulled the hair band from her hair. He runs his fingers through it and quickly re braids it into a neat french braid. 

“You make it look so easy,” Johnny sighs, looking over at you, “both you and Si can work some witchcraft on their hair that I just can't get the hang of.” 

“It’s alright love,” You smile as you walk over, sitting on the couch next to him. Satisfied with her braid Kira slips from the room, off to join her siblings in their games.

“I just want ta help,” Johnny mumbles, his arm slipping around your waist as he pulls you into his side. 

“I know, but hair is not your thing, and that's okay, you help in many other ways,” you press your lips to his cheek, earning a small smile from him. “It took Simon a while to learn too.”

“Really?” Johnny murmurs his lip brushing across your cheek.

“Oh yeah, after we found out about the twins, and that we were having a girl, I think he spent every night until they were born practicing on my hair. Don't let him tell you he’s just good at it, there were lots of terrible braids and my hair being pulled,” you narrow your eyes at Simon and he gives you a small smirk.

Simon had spent almost every night braiding your hair, or well, trying to braid your hair. The first few weeks he mainly just yanked your hair out while you tried to explain the process to him. Once he made such a huge knot in your hair you were afraid you were going to have to cut it out. Kyle had found you sitting on the bathroom counter, sobbing because you couldn't get the snarls out. Thankfully after an hour of you and Kyle working on the knots you were able to get it out. 

Simon had felt terrible about it, and didn't touch your hair for a week after that. It took you begging him to try again for the man to even brush your hair for you. Eventually he got good at the basic braid and you taught him how to do a french braid and a few other hairstyles. 

“Does that mean i can practice on ye?” Johnny's big blue eyes flutter at you, earning a harsh roll of your own.

“Maybe, if you're good.”

Simon stands from the couch, stretching his large body, black tee shirt pulling taught against his chest. “I’m gonna go shower, Lovie, do you need anything?” He looks down at you in Johnny arms, your head resting on his shoulder.

“No, thank you,” you flash him one of your signature smiles, his own lips curling up slightly at the edges. Simon leans down, his large hands cupping your face as he presses a long slow kiss to your lips. Love, adoration and happiness poured into the kiss, he nips your bottom lip gently as he pulls away. Johnny letting out a low groan at the display.

“Steamin’ Jesus..” the Scotsman groans, his head flopping back against the couch as Simon walks away, your cheeks flushed.

“Such a perv Mactavish,” You laugh, and he lifts his head, narrowing those baby blues at you.

“Can’t help it Mo Chridhe, watching you kiss the others does something to me,” he whispers, large calloused hands gripping your waist as he hauls you into his lap. Your knees settle on either side of his muscular thighs. Your hands resting on his shoulders as he blatantly stares at your breasts. “Shame, Hope’s weaning, I fuckin’ love your tits like this.” 

Air rushes from your lungs, your eyes fluttering shut as Johnny nips at the sensitive skin of your breasts. Your forehead rests on top of his head as his lips tease at the tops of your breasts, “Johnny…” you breathe.

“Miss you hen,” Johnny’s breath tickles your skin as he trails kisses up your chest to your neck. His hands knead the flesh of your waist as he pulls you down against his lap, his cock pressing against you through the fabric of his jeans. 

“The kids…” You breathe, your breath coming out in small pants as his lips sucks on the curve of your neck and shoulder. 

“The others can watch em’ they got their turn with you last night,” He mumbles.

He wasn't wrong, last night Kyle and John ravaged your body like it was lost treasure, the pair of them having cornered you in the kitchen after the kids had gone to bed. Simon was trapped in Theo’s room with the toddler sleeping against his chest, Theo had a cold and had been right miserable all day. Needing to be held by you or one of his dads. Johnny was putting Hope to bed, the now 14 month old going through a sleep regression, needing to be rocked to sleep. You werent exactly quiet as John and Kyle fucked you over the kitchen counter. Taking turns slamming into you, your screams and moans floating up the stairs. You know Simon and Johnny heard you, and it only added to your pleasure. 

A startled squeak leaves your lips and Johnny shifts you, tossing you over his shoulder as he stands from the couch. His hand coming down on your ass with a sharp crack. He carried you through the house, you slung over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes. You passed the kids in the playroom, Kyle sitting in a chair in the corner, his eyes lifting from his book as you pass. 

“Da? Why is Mama up there? Was she naughty? Is she going to time out?” Isla wonders, coming to stand in the doorway of the playroom. Her big blue eyes gazing up at you, although your view is mostly upside down you still see Kyle's smug smirk from the chair. 

“Aye Bonnie, She needs a time out,” Soap ruffles her hair with the hand that isn't hooked around your knees. “I’m just bringing her to her room, go play with your siblings. Maybe Dad will bring the lot of you downstairs into the basement for a movie in the theater.”

“Can we watch Encanto?!?! Please Dad!!” Isla yells, bounding over to her Dad. Kyle glares at Johnny, as your children swarm him all calling out different movies they want to watch. Even hope babbles happily at his feet. You give a small wave as Johnny carries you up the stairs towards the master bedroom. 

He flops you down in the middle of the giant bed you had custom made for all of you. You bounce slightly on the light green duvet, a laugh floating through the air. Johnny kicks the door closed, his hands finding the hem of his light blue shirt as he drags it off him. His toned stomach and chest are on display. He stalks towards you, like a lion hunting prey, his blue eyes dark with desire. 

Your cheeks flame, heart pounding against your ribs. Johnny cage's you against the bed, strong arms locking your wrists above your head. His lips brush against yours as he slots his knee in between your thighs. 

“Mmm.. want me all to yourself Johnny?” You whisper, looking at his face through half lidded eyes. 

“For now.. Haven't had you all alone for a while. Not that I mind sharing you with the others… I love watching them work you up, making you moan, bring you to the edge with their fingers, tongue and cocks…” His soft pink lips brush against your skin with each word. A shiver shudders through your body at his words. 

He shifts to hold your wrists with one of his hands, his other coming to squeeze at your breast. He kneads the soft flesh there, a moan dragging from your lips. A small smirk playing at the corner of his mouth.

“Steamin’ Jesus, you’re beautiful,” he groans, pressing his face into the side of your neck. Your hips lift to brush against his, earning another small moan your Scottish husband. Johnny kisses up your neck to your mouth, his tongue invading your mouth. Your tongue tangles with his, your breath mingling. Heat sweeps through your body as you grind yourself on Johnny knee between your legs. 

“Need you Johnny…” You whine softly as he slips his hand under your shirt. His cool fingers toying with your nipple. You’ve never been so glad you didn't wear a bra in your life. Your hands are numb from the tight grip he has on your wrists. Body trembling as he kisses you senseless. 

Johnny wasn't always gentle with you in bed, he loved to overstimulate you, pushing you to the edge. He’d love to watch tears roll down your cheeks as you begged him to let you cum. He was probably the worst when it came to edging you, he would go for hours if one of the others didn't step in and save you. He was too impatient for that today, his large hands travel down your body, over the curve of your hips. Fingers slip into the waistband of your sleep short as he harshly tugs them down your legs. 

“So wet for me already, want me to stuff you with my cock? Make you cum all over it?” His voice is raspy as he slides a finger into your slick heat. God those fingers were something else. He always knew exactly where to touch you to make you squirm. 

“Please…” you pant, cheeks flushed, chest heaving.

He curls his fingers inside you before adding 2 more. Your legs tremble as you peek up at him from the mattress. His blue eyes burn into you, white teeth flashing behind his pink lips as he smiles at you. 

“‘M gonna fill you up, put another baby in you just so i can watch your gorgeous tits grow again,” he shifts letting go of your wrists. Your hands tingle and burn as blood rushes back into them. The sound of a belt hitting the floor, the bed dips under his weight as he climbs back over you. His calloused hand grabs the puffy flesh of your thigh, hooking it over his hip.

Johnny moans softly as his hand glides over his thick cock a few times, the tip red and swollen. Precum leaking onto the bed between your thighs. You swore each of your men were hand carved by gods. Your cheeks burn as Johnny looks down at you, your shirt bunched up over your breasts, pupils blown wide.

“Can’t wait anymore Hen, I gotta be inside ya,” Johnny moans, leaning over you once again, his chest brushing yours. The smooth skin of his chest sends tiny jolts of pleasure through you as it drags across your sensitive nipples. You gasp as he slips through your wet folds, a low groan pulled from his lips as he thrusts into you. 

“Fuck, harder,” you moan out, eyes rolling back into your head as he stretches you open. 

You didn't have to tell him twice, he picks up speed, sitting back on his legs as he grips your hips in his large hands. He uses his hands to pull you up his thighs, pounding into you mercilessly. Red hot desire burns in your core, your walls fluttering around his cock. Each thrust brings you closer and closer to your release. He pushes one of your knees to your chest, changing the angle to hit deeper. His right hand leaves your hip so he can use his fingers to circle your swollen clit. 

“You’re like a vice grip on me, dinnae if i can last long Mo Chridhe, you feel too good wrapped around me,” he breathes, his pace brutal.

“Cum for me baby,” You whimper, your own high teetering on the edge. 

His expert fingers circle your clit faster, adding more pressure as he slams his hips into yours. It only takes a few more thrusts before you’re tumbling over the  edge, Johnny groaning his release as falls forward. Shaky arms on either side of your head as his face dips into the curve of your neck.

You both lay there on the bed, Johnny half hard cock still nestled inside you, your chests heaving as you both catch your breath. You trail your hands up his back, fingers sliding into the hair of his mohawk. The damp strands catch on the diamond of your ring.

“You alright?” you laugh slightly, Johnny's entire body weight resting on you. His large form crushing you, but in the best way.

“Think i died and ended up in heaven, must be my guardian angel,” his lips brush against your neck, his stubble tickling you.

“Get off my wife, MacTavish,” Price's voice breaks through your post orgasm haze. The older man stands in the doorway, his back against the white wood door. His arms crossed over his chest, a teasing smile on his lips as he looked over your half naked state and Soaps bare ass.

“Sorry Cap’n, something about this vixen makes me wild,” Soap laughs as he gently pulls out of you, and rolls off you. He flops over on his back, lower stomach glistening with your mess. John rolls his eyes, and leans down plucking a towel from the half full laundry basket by the door and tosses it at Soap. 

“Clean yourself up, Kyle’s stuck in the theater with the kids watching some princess film, and Hope needs a nap.” John walks to the bed, his thighs hitting the edge of the mattress as he wraps a hand around your ankle and yanks you down the bed to him. His light blue eyes trail over your body, his gaze settling on the glistening apex of your thighs. A flare of desire passes over his face before he meets your gaze again. 

“I’ll rescue him, need me some baby cuddles anyways,” Johnny laughs as he pulls on his clothes. He leans over the edge of the bed and presses a chaste kiss to your lips, giving you a wink. “I love you Mo Chridhe,” he smiles, his hand ghosting over your lower stomach as he stands.

You blink a few times, head still fuzzy from your activities with Johnny. The bedroom door closes with a soft click, leaving you alone with John. His rough fingers trail up the smooth skin of your calf to your thigh. Skimming over the curve of your hip and settling on the side of your ribcage. His palm rising and falling with each of your breaths.

“Johnny take care of you Darlin?” He murmurs, thumb brushing over the side of your breast.

“He did, are you here to have your way with me too?” You breathe, teeth sinking into your plush bottom lip as you blink up at him. 

“I wish I could Darling, I want nothing more than to make you scream my name, have my cum dripping out of you. But I have to get to base, Laswell called and said she had something for me to look at, but couldn't discuss it on the phone.” He sighs, his fingers trailing to your hands and he gently pulls you up. 

God he hates the way your brows furrow, a small frown on your beautiful lips. He hates that he has to go, but they’ve been home for almost 5 months now. It was only a matter of time before something like this came up. He wished he could retire, the entire task force. But they were needed. He knew it. The rest of them knew it. You knew it. But it didn't make it any easier, knowing that one day your perfect bubble would pop. That your men would have to rush out the door at some ungodly hour to run headfirst into danger. It seemed to get harder and harder as each kid grew to understand what their dads did. How they might not come back. 

You let out a long breath, and force a smile onto your face. “I understand, can I entice you into a shower with me before you leave?” 

The look on your face was enough to make any man fold, let alone one as hopelessly in love with you as John was. He couldn't resist your big wide eyes blinking up at him, thick long lashes fluttering. He couldn't say no to you, even if he would get his ass chewed out by Laswell for being late.

“Simon better make room,” He chuckles, hands gripping your waist as he hauls you into his arms. Not caring that your bare cunt is leaking cum all over his shirt and jeans. He tosses his boonie hat onto the bed, your legs wrapping around his waist as you press your face into the side of his neck. His beard tickles your skin, as he shoves open the bathroom door. 

Simon glances up in the mirror, a light gray towel slung low on his hips. Board chest and back on full display as he watches his captain carry you into the steam filled bathroom. His brown eyes track you in the mirror until Price sets you down on the cool quartz countertop next to him. 

“Hi Lovie, you look thoroughly fucked, did John do this to you?” Simon muses, his chapped lips brushing your temple.

“No,” you chirp, a blush creeping up your cheeks. “Johnny got his hands on me, John’s going to shower with me. Care to take another?” You muse, earning a small chuckle from the tall blonde next to you.

“Wish i could Lovie, but I promised a very persistent 7 year old I would take her and her twin to the library so they can get a new book,” he roughly towel dries his hair with a smaller towel before he hangs it on a hook. 

Yu jut out your lower lip, “okay, fine,” you pout. 

“Don’t pout, your mouth is far too pretty for that. I’d much rather it be wrapped around my dick tonight,” Simon practically purrs in your ear. His teeth nipping your earlobe in promise. Price returns, and shares a look with Simon in the mirror before he stacks a fresh set of clothes for the both of you on the counter. 

“Be a good girl, I love you,” Simon kisses your lips softly before he leaves the bathroom.

“Love you,” You call after him as steam starts to billow out of the large walk-in shower, hot water cascading from the multiple shower heads. John settles between your thighs and grips the hem of your pajama top, pulling it over your head in one swift motion. Your own hands travel to the buckle of his belt as you quickly unlatch it, yanking it from the waist of his jeans and letting it tumble to the floor with a metallic clink.

Your deft fingers quickly undo the button and fly, one hand slipping into the opening to palm his half hard cock through his boxers. Your tongue darts out as you notice the wet spot on the front of his jeans from your and Johnny's mixed releases.  John inhales sharply, large hands wrapping around your wrist.

“Darling,” he warns, his voice low and tight.

“What?” You blink up at him, feigning innocence.

“We have to shower now if you want me to join you, can’t keep Laswell waiting all day..” He warns, but you don't stop. His cock growing under your tender touches. 

“We can shower…”  You purr, leaning forward your lips gently grazing the top of his boxers. John's abs contract as your breath tickles his happy trail, the smattering of dark hair that disappears under his boxers. Your tongue pokes out, licking a small wet line over his boxers, his now hard cock jumping as your warm tongue flicks over the tip through the fabric. 

The growl that leaves John's lips is almost feral as he grabs your hips and yanks you off the bathroom counter. He spins you, your hip bones hitting the edge of the counter, a delicious sting as they bite into the corner. John's gaze meets your in the mirror, his jaw set in a hard line, one hand pressing into the space between your shoulder blades. He forces you to bend over the counter, his gaze never leaving yours. 

“You spoiled brat, you want to be fucked is that it?” He grabs a fistful of your hair and yanks your head back. “Want me to fuck you into the bathroom counter like the slut you are?” He tugs sharply on your hair, a gasp forcing itself from you.

“Yes, god, yes,” You moan, nipples hardening as they slide against the cold counter.

“I won't be gentle with you, I have things to do, I'm a busy man,” he warns, but it does nothing but excite you. It wasn't often you pushed John, you usually understood when he said he had things to do. But a part of you craved it when he was rough with you. John was most always gentle with you. As if he was afraid to break you, treating you like something to be savored. It was Simon who you often turned to when you needed someone to throw you around, leaving bruises on your skin. But there was a side to Price only you could draw out, when you knew he was stuck in his head of the things he needed to do. Lost in the responsibility of being Captain to the others, the one who inevitably makes the call for them to leave your home and storm into a warzone.

It didn't take much sometimes, just a little bratty behavior when you knew he was in a hurry. If you had been a good girl like Simon suggested you would have climbed into the shower without protest. Let John wash you tenderly under the stream of the shower and kiss you goodbye as you blow dried your hair. But instead you had pressed him, edging the line of his control by palming him through his boxers. The kitten lick through the thin fabric was the final straw for him. 

Now as he pulled his shirt off, and shoved his jeans and boxers down to the floor you can't help but pant. You never take your eyes off him as he glares at you through the fogging mirror. One hand gripped in your hair, the other wrapped around his throbbing cock. 

“This what you wanted? Getting me all worked up when you know I have to leave?” He asks, giving himself a few harsh strokes. Your eyes trail over his hand, your brain short circuiting as you watch him jerk his cock.

A sharp sting across your ass makes you yelp, johns palm cracking across the silky smooth flesh. “Asked you a question, I expect an answer,” he grinds out.

Y-yes sir,” your words tumble from your dry lips, tongue feeling stuck as he lines himself up with your still wet pussy. He nudges your entrance, and your eyes flutter shut. The tip of his cock slipping between your wet folds.

“Eyes on me,” he demands, and your eyes fly open at the exact moment he slams his hips home. A loud moan falling from your lips as he pounds into you. His hand is still gripping your hair. Your hip bones bite into the rounded edge of the sink. The sound of your skin slapping together fills the bathroom along with the water in the shower. The mirror starts to fog with your breath and the steam from the hot water. The mix of John’s cock driving into you and the humid air of the bathroom makes you dizzy. Your fingers dig into the smooth sink, grasping for purchase. John's cheeks flush as he continues his harsh assault on your body. 

“You take my cock so well, such a good little cum slut,” He rasps. Your eyes roll back into your head as he releases your hair. His hands wrap around the curve of your hips so he can thrust into you harder. You were definitely going to be bruised later. But you didn't care, the sight of John losing himself in you was everything to you. 

His fingers dig into your hip bones, short nails leaving small crescent shapes on the delicate flesh. “You like it don't you? Huh? Like the feel of my cock filling you up, want my cum to drip from your tight cunt like Johnnys, huh Darling? Want us to fuck another baby into you?’ his hand comes down on your already red ass cheek, a biting sting, he doesn't bother to soothe the red skin. His smile grows as his hand print leaves a raised welt, if there was one thing in common between all of your husbands was they loved marking you. 

Whether it was Kyle leaving tiny love bites across your stomach and thighs. Simon's finger prints bruised into your waist. John's handprints on your ass. Or Johnny's teeth marks across the plains of your breasts. They all had their subtle or well not so subtle ways of letting the others know they were there.

“Fuck, I’m gonna cum already, you’re so fuckin’ tight,” John pants, his thrusts becoming erratic as he gets closer to the edge. “Touch yourself, make yourself cum all over my cock like the good little slut you are.” 

Your eyes watch his face in the mirror as you slide a hand between your thighs and rub fast, tight circles on your clit. Your fingers gliding effortlessly over the swollen nub, the mix of you and Johnny making the perfect lubricant. It only takes you moments to work yourself to the edge, your body practically humming already. 

John shifts his hips slightly, hitting that spot inside you that drives you crazy. You both fall over the edge with a shout. John's hips slamming into yours with one last rough thrust as he stills inside you. His cock twitching, your walls milking him. You collapse forward, gasping breaths wracking your body. 

John reaches forward, brushing the hair from your cheek. His fingers tuck the loose strands behind your ear. “Didn't hurt you, right?”

Your other cheek is pressed firmly against the smooth bathroom counter, the overhead lighting reflecting off the mica embedded in the white quartz. You give a small shake of your head. “No, I knew what I was getting myself into,” You push yourself up on shaky arms as John  slips from between your legs. The mixture of his and Johnny's cum dripping down your thighs. 

A harsh knock on the bathroom door breaks the moment.

“Price? Laswell called again, said she couldn't get ahold of you, asked me to tell you she needs you on base Asap,” Kyle's voice drifts through the bathroom door and you groan, turning to face John.

“Rain check on the shower, Darling?” Price’s fingers grab your chin softly.

“Rain check,” You agree leaning up on your toes to press a kiss to his mouth. He pulls away all too soon for your liking, wiping himself off with a towel before pulling on his clothes. Pulling open the shower door you step into the hot stream, your body shaky and numb from the mind blowing orgasms. You tip your head back allowing the hot water to wet your hair, your eyes closed. 

A soft hand slips around your waist, your eyes popping open to see Kyle. His short black hair is dotted with water that bounces off you. A smile forms on your lips as he gently pulls you toward him. The hard expanse of his chest is a welcome home for your head. He doesn't say anything for a few minutes, just holds you under the hot stream. His fingers absentmindedly stroking your soft skin. 

“It sounds to me like you had a very eventful morning,” Kyle teases, his lips brushing your forehead. 

“Oh? What makes you say that?”

“You know how Johnny is after he gets his way with you, he's like a kid in a candy store. He’s put Hope down for her nap and then proceeded to offer to bake cookies with Isla and Theo. Knowing full well he was going to have to clean the kitchen after that fiasco.” Kyle laughs, “and you weren't exactly quiet with John a moment ago.” 

Your cheeks grow hot, even after all this time you still couldn't help but feel shy when the other men knew what happened without them. It's not that you were ashamed, it was more to do with your upbringing. Your parents were strict, sex was a taboo subject, you didn't even know the basics until they taught you in health class. Your parents weren't a huge part of your life, they chose to put distance between you and your family when they found out you were dating 4 men.

They showed face at your wedding though, playing the doting parents of the bride. But the cold shoulder your mother gave you when you told her you were expecting her first grandchildren told you everything you needed to know. They weren’t okay with how you chose to live your life, they just cared more about their image.

“Where did you just go?” Kyle asks, his fingers under your chin tipping your face up to his.

“Hmm?” you hum, brows furrowed. 

“You got stuck in your head, where did you go?” His own brows furrow as he studies you. His long fingers brushing a drop of water from your cheek.

“I was just thinking about my parents…” you shrug halfheartedly. You tried not to let them bother you, telling yourself that you were better off without them. That your kids didn't need that in their life, they had 2 sets of wonderful grandparents who loved them more than anything. Johnny and Kyle's parents would find a way to give the kids all the stars in the sky if they could. 

“Baby,” Kyle breathes, his face coming closer to yours. “You don't need them, don't get lost in their ignorance.”

“I know.. Just.. I don't know,” You mumble, biting the inside of your cheek hard, the coppery tang of blood distracting you.

“Let me make it better,” he whispers, lips skimming yours. Kyle's kisses were always soft and sweet, just like him. His lips are as smooth as butter, as soft as cotton candy. He always took his time with you. Each movement is carefully thought out to bring you the most pleasure. His hands tangle in your wet hair, but unlike John there's no sharp sting. Just tender touches along your scalp as he slips his tongue into your mouth. 

The low moan that vibrates through your chest is enough to encourage him to continue. Kyle's fingers trail down your neck and spine to the curve of your ass. His fingers knead the soft flesh there, soothing the raised handprints left by Price. His fingers grip your thigh softly as he hikes it up over his hip, allowing his hard cock to brush against you.

“Kyle… please,” You whisper, rolling your hips into him.

“I’ve got you, Baby,” he whispers against your mouth. He turns you slowly, your back hitting the cool tile wall of the shower. He captures your swollen lips in another searing kiss, as one arm lips behind your back, causing you to arch into him. His other hand wraps around his thick cock as he slides into you. You moan into his mouth, your kiss becoming more clashing teeth and harsh breathing than before. Your hand grip his muscular shoulders, your nails biting into the smooth brown skin. You can feel his muscles flex and contract under your fingers as he languidly slides in and out of you. 

“You’re so good to us,” he whispers against your skin, ‘always taking care of us, take such good care of our babies when we're away. You’re ethereal, a true goddess on earth just for us.” 

Kyle's praise brings tears to your eyes, what did you possibly do to deserve him? Or any of them? Kyle drags his hips along yours, and your legs begin to shake. Your body was spent, between Soap and Price, you weren't sure if you had any more in you. But it doesn't stop Gaz, he just picks up his pace slightly. Nothing compared to either of the men before him, but enough that the coil in your stomach is now twisting tighter, and it’ll only be a matter of moments before you shatter in his arms. 

Gaz’z lips trail down your jaw and neck as he sucks along the smooth skin there. Quiet pants being coaxed out of you with each one. His lips seal around your nipple, sending a jolt of electricity skittering across your skin. 

“Fuck, Ky- I cant,” you whine, the burning in your core too much, as he drags his cock out of you before pushing back in at an agonizingly slow pace. His teeth graze your nipple as he pulls away. His mouth peppering your chest with wet open mouth kisses. His saliva mixes with the warm water leaving your chest shiny under the bathroom lights. 

“Yes you can Baby, I know you can. Just one more, for me,” he coaxes, his hand slipping between you, to rub your overly sensitive clit. His fingers tapping with the lightest of touches, and you break. Your walls are clamping down on him. Tears roll down your cheeks as you come with his name on your lips. 

His hips stutter as he follows you over the cliff, his own orgasm ripping through him as he lets your leg fall. Both your feet now firmly on the ground as he presses his forehead to yours. You both pants, the air between you becoming stifling with the humidity from the shower. You wrap your arms around his chest, allowing your head to lay over his rapidly beating heart. Your hair clinging to his skin as he adjusts the shower head above you, allowing more hot water to pour over the both of you. 

You stay like that until you're both able to breathe normally, and Kyle begins to gently wash you. He brushes the plush washcloth that's lathered in vanilla scented body wash over your body. He kneels in front of you, gliding the cloth up your legs to your thighs and ass. He's gentle where prices hands have left a mark. 

He presses small kisses to the bruises that are forming on your hips from the countertop. Before he stands, pouring some strawberry scented shampoo into his hands and working a rich lather into your hair.You both enjoy the quiet, neither one talking much except for when giving instructions to rinse off. 

After you return the favor of washing Gaz, he gets out of the shower, pulling two towels from the warming rack and wrapping one around his waist. The other he secures around yours. He spends the next 30 minutes lathering you with lotions and blow drying your hair. He glances at you through the bathroom mirror as he pushes up the sleeves of his shirt. His white teeth flashing at you as he smiles.

“You alright baby?” 

You nod, pulling on one of Simon's oversized black hoodies. It falls to the tops of your thighs, and you have to roll the cuffs of the sleeves up so you can use your hands. Kyle presses a kiss to your cheek, his warm lips lingering on your cheek for a moment.

“You look tired. Why don't you lay down for a nap?” he suggests, his fingers twirling a piece of your hair. 

You could use a nap, but you have things to do. Anxiety gnaws at you, you know that they’ll be leaving soon. It's not hard to interpret the messages behind Kate wanting to see John on base. That's how it normally went, she would ask him to come to base to discuss something. John would disappear for a few hours, sometimes late into the night before he came home.  He would talk to the others first, usually Simon, then Kyle or Johnny whoever he could find first. Then he would seek you out. He’d pull you into him, his beard tickling your cheeks as he peppered your face with kisses. 

Then he’d lay it on you, tell you that they were shipping out, either in the morning or in the next few days. You always tried to be strong, to put on a brave face especially if the children were still awake. Then you would watch as he told each of the children what was going on. Kira and Joseph would hold their younger siblings as they cried, begging their fathers not to go. Your heart shattering in your chest as you watch the four men in your life try to reassure them that they would be back. Eventually the younger kids would settle, the twins distracting them with games or snacks. 

It wasn't until they had left, and the kids were all in bed that you allowed yourself to fall apart. Huddled alone in your giant bed, surrounded by their pillows that you would let the tears fall. Sometimes one of the kids would climb into bed with you, their own attempts at comforting themselves. The time where your husbands were gone felt like wading through chest high mud. Each action needs twice the amount of effort than normal. You didn't have enough hands it seemed, there was always someone needing something. Someone had practice or a project they needed done. A baby was sick or going through a milestone. A faucet would leak or you’d forget entire meals when grocery shopping. You chew your bottom lip, spinning your engagement ring and wedding band around your ring finger. 

“No i'm okay, I’m gonna go see if Johnny needs any help with Theo and Isla,” you smile softly pressing a quick kiss to Kyle’s cheek before slipping out of the bathroom.

You can hear Johnny talking with Isla and Theo, his accented voice easy to pick out. You pad down the hallway to the kitchen. From the large archway you see Johnny standing behind Isla and Theo who stand on little helper stools. Theos light brown skin is dusted with flour, and his brown curls are pushed out of his face with a pair of bright purple bunny ears. Isla peers over the bowl, her finger dipping into the dough. A glob of cookie dough makes it way into her mouth, a sly smirk on her lips as she thinks Johnny didn’t see her.

But the demolition expert did see it, you can tell by the way his mouth slants upwards, the slight shake of his head. Theo reaches into the bowl, his little fist gripping the chocolate chip cookie dough like it was a life line. But instead of shoving it into his mouth he uses his other hand, attempting to roll the dough into a ball. It squishes through his fingers and lands with a wet plop on the counter. His big brown eyes look up in panic as the sticky dough clings to his hands. 

“Oi lad made a fine mess of yerself don’t ya?” Johnny laughs, scraping the excess dough from Theos outstretched hands. 

“Da, do you think mama will like the cookies?” Isla wonders, using a dough scoop to scoop out portions of cookie dough, she plops them on a baking sheet. A little too close together but Johnny just moves the small mounds over a bit.

“I think she’ll love em, your mama loves everything you make for her,” he ruffled her hair with his clean hands. Coming to stand behind Theo as he helps him scoop out his own dough with another scoop.

“Sometimes when all of you leave, I can hear Mama crying… Papa left to go see aunt Kate.. that means you’ll leave again soon…” Isla looks down at the cookie sheet, her bottom lip between her teeth. You can see her shoulders rise as she takes a deep breath.

“It’s okay to be sad when we leave, lala girl. Sometimes Mama’s get sad too,” he crouches down next to her, his finger hooking up her chin as he looks at her.

“Why do you leave if it makes Mama and us sad?” She leans into his hand, her smaller hands coming to rest on his cheeks. Theo jams the cookie scoop into the bowl too young to understand the conversation.

“Well, papa, Daddy, Dad and I have really important jobs. And those jobs sometimes make it so we have to go far away to capture bad people, and stop them from hurtin others. Like how Batman stops the joker, and police officers catch bad guys.”

“Olice Officer! Wee woo wee woo!” Theo yells, the scoop clattering to the counter, as he claps.

“That’s right, “ Johnny laughs, “but we’ll always come back to you, you guys and your Mama are the most important things in the world to us. So we try our hardest to always come back. Can you do me a favor tho Lala girl?” He asks, and Isla nods eagerly.

“The next time you hear your Mama cryin’ I want you to give her the biggest hug ever okay? And don’t be afraid to tell her it’s okay to be sad too. I think sometimes Mama forgets she can be sad, because she’s so busy trying to make sure none of you bairns are sad.” Johnny gives her a soft smile.

“I can do that Da, can we finish the cookies now?” She grabs the scoop again and looks at Theo and Soap.

“Of course,” he smiles again and you duck out of the archway, just out of sight. Your eyes burn, but you blink back the tears and take a moment to compose yourself. You didn’t realize that Isla had heard you crying. You tried desperately to be quiet, but Islas' room was across the hall and she must've heard you while she went to the bathroom. 

You take another deep breath and step out into the kitchen with a smile on your face as you walk to the large kitchen island.

“Mama! Mama!” Theo yells, “We are making you cookies!” 

“Cookies? For me? Thank you baby,” You lean down pressing a kiss to his messy curls, the purple bunny ears poking you in the face. You look over the 4 large cookie sheets that are dotted with cookie dough.

“Wow it looks like you guys made enough for everyone, huh?” You smile at Isla and she nods. 

“Yeah! Da said we had to triple the recipe because there are soooo many of us,” She explains, scooping another ball of dough from the large metal bowl. 

“That's true, there are a lot of people in our house. Do you know how many?” You slip into a bar stool, your eyes catching Soaps above Theos head. He gives you a panty dropping smile and a wink.

“Uh,” Isla thinks hard for a moment, her bottom lip pulled between her teeth. “Theres Me, Theo, Kira, Joseph and Hope, that's 5… Mama, Papa, Dad, Daddy and Da. That's 5 too… and 5 plus 5 makes 10!” She beams. “There's 10 people who live in our house. Right Da?”  She looks over her shoulder.

“That's right Lass, 10 people so far,” he raises his eyebrows suggestively at you.

“So far? What does that mean? Why are Mama’s cheeks so red?” She scrunched her brows looking between you and Johnny.

“Nothing baby, Da is just being silly,” you roll your eyes. Isla shrugs and goes back to her job. Between her and Theo it doesn't take long for the cookie dough to be laid out on every cookie sheet you own. You help Johnny by putting them in the large commercial size stove, even with your giant oven you can only fit 4 cookie sheets at a time. After Johnny cleans up Theo and Isla he starts to work on the dishes, you perch yourself on a bar stool and watch as he methodically washes each dish. 

The sounds of Theo and Isla playing floats through the house as they play in the large playroom at the front of the house. Kyle comes into the kitchen and places his hands on your hips, dropping a kiss to the top of your head. 

“The cookies smell good, good to know Johnny didn't mess them up,” he teases. Johnny looks over his shoulder narrowing his eyes at Gaz.

“Oi, it was one time, and it wasn't even my fault!” He huffs.

“No you’re right you just decided to let the twins measure everything out and they put half a cup of salt instead of a teaspoon,” Kyle laughs.

“Shall we talk about your lasagna, then?” You look up at Kyle and his smile drops.

“You said you wouldn't bring that up,” he grumbles, his hands squeezing your waist softly.

“Did i?” You feign innocence, batting your lashes at him.

“Cheeky woman,” Kyle mutters, peppering your face with feather light kisses.

“Keep that up and I might have to steal you for round 2..” Soap's voice is rough and low as he looks at you and Kyle.

Your cheeks blush for what feels like the millionth time today, and you shake your head. “You’re insatiable,” you roll your eyes, slipping from the stool and walking towards the door. “Don't let the cookies burn!” You call over your shoulder.

“Ah Steamin’ Jesus!” Johnny curses.

You walk down the hall, peeking your head into the playroom, to see Isla and Theo sitting in a large bean bag chair, Theo peering over the edge of the learning tablet Isla is playing with. A smile plays at the corner of your lips as you walk towards the staircase. You slowly climb the stairs, pausing briefly at Hope's bedroom door to look in. The 14 month old lays on her stomach, her bum up in the air, stuffed bunny tucked in her arms as she sleeps. You quietly close the door and climb the second staircase up to the 3rd floor of your house. There were 3 rooms up here, a small half bath, John’s office, and a guest room used only when Kyle or Johnny's parents came to visit. 

You pull open the french doors to John’s office, stepping into the warm room. The hunter green walls lined with heavy oak bookshelves, his large desk sat in the middle of the room facing the floor to ceiling window. An old leather couch sits along one wall and you sink into the soft brown leather. Your fingers brushing across the cracked and worn material. You pull the fluffy green blanket off the back and wrap it around yourself. Your knees pulled up to your chest, your chin resting on top of them as you stare at the landscape outside the window.

Your fingers picking at the loose threads on the blankets. You came up here to get some alone time. No one usually ventures into John's office when he isn't home. Your mind drifts as you watch the fluffy white clouds roll by. Your eyes grow heavy as you enjoy the quiet.

You must've dozed off, your body jolting awake when a hand touches your shoulder. Your head whips up, eyes meeting a pair of dark brown ones.

Simon. Those eyes belonged to Simon.

The tension leaves your shoulders as he crouches next to the couch, his broad shoulders block the light from the window. His blonde eyebrows furrowed as he looks at you. Those dark eyes studying every part of your face. 

“Hi,” you whisper, voice still thick with sleep.

“Hi Lovie, you alright?” He asks, his large hand taking your much smaller ones.

“I’m okay, tired,” you shrug, your fingers wiggling against his palm. “How was the library?”

“Good, Kira and Joseph got 2 books each, and they brought home a few for the younger kids. They’re all in the kitchen eating cookies with Kyle and Johnny. Are you sure you’re okay?” He squeezes your hands again. 

You sigh, Simon had a way of seeing right through you. Your other husbands did too, but they often erred on the side of caution when it came to confronting you about it. At some point or another they had pushed just a little too hard when you were having a bad day and you snapped. Basically chewing their heads off before you burst into tears. The other 3 had panicked, not sure what to do, their efforts to comfort you had ended with you hitting their chest as you told them to go away. Cursing at them for pushing you on things you weren't ready to talk about. They had quickly learnt that you would come to them when you were ready. But Simon on the other hand didn't care. He welcomed your outburst, taking each emotion with stride. He’d let you beat on his chest until your arms hurt. Until your anger gave way to your true emotions. 

“No.. im not okay,” you relent. Simon just looks at you, waiting for you to explain.

“I know you're going to be leaving soon, and I know at this point I should be used to it. It's been 8 years of deployments. But it doesn't get any easier.. And now the kids are starting to get to the age where they ask questions, wanting to know what you guys do while you're gone. They're starting to understand that what you're doing is dangerous. I don't know how I'm supposed to explain to them what happens if one of you doesn't come home…” you trail off, feeling a weight settle on your chest.

“I can't promise we’ll come home, I won't lie to you and tell you that we will. I’ve never sugar coated that. But you’re stronger than you think Lovie, I know that you can handle everything here. You’re an amazing Mum to our kids. You’re so kind to them, so patient. I know it's hard when we're away. But I promise we won't be doing as many missions as before. Price has had a few meetings with Kate about us stepping back, training a new team to take our place. We don't want to lose any more time with you and the kids. Besides, I've heard through the grapevine that we have a more important mission here.” He brushes a strand of your hair behind your ear.

“Oh? What's that?” You ask, raising an eyebrow.

“Something about knocking you up again,” he smiles like a cat who got the canary. He shifts forward on his knees. Large hands pawing at your sides as he drags you down the couch. His hand flicking open the button of your jeans. Your chest heaves as he leans forward pressing a soft kiss to the skin below your navel. Goosebumps erupt on your skin Simon flicks his tongue out, wetting your skin.

“Simon…” You breathe, your hands tangling in his soft blonde hair. 

“I know Love,” he murmurs against your skin, his fingers dipping into the waistband of your jeans and panties, tugging them down in one swift motion. You reach for his own waistband, undoing his belt in one swift motion. His brown eyes burn into you as he slides his hand up the inside of your thighs and drags them through the wetness that pools between them.

“Such a good girl for me, always so ready for me,” Simon praises, his eyes straying to the bruise marks on your hips from when John fucked you into the bathroom counter. “Looks like someone already played rough with you today. How did that to you Love? Those weren't there when i left you in the bathroom this morning, tell me was it Kyle or John who bruised that pretty skin of yours.” He slips a finger into you, and you groan, your inner walls fluttering around his thick digits.

“John..” you moan as he curls his fingers into you hitting that spot that makes you see stars.

“Did Kyle fuck you too?” He asks, his other hand palming his hard cock through his boxers. 

“Mmmm, yes..” you pant, your hands wrapping around his wrist as he fucks you with his fingers. 

“Must be my turn then, huh,” he kisses you softly, his lips slanting over yours for a moment, stealing your breath away. “Want me to fill you up? Stuff you full of my cum like the others? Fuck a baby into you?” 

“Ahh- yes, Si.. Please,” you gasp and pant. Back arching off the couch as you press your hips into his hand. Grinding your clit against the heel of his palm.

“Fuckin’ hell, such a good girl,” Simon groans as he pulls his hand from your dripping pussy. Shoving his jeans down his thick thighs, he grabs your ankles spinning you on the couch so your back presses into the cushions. Your thighs spread, ass hanging off the seat. He leans up on his knees, his cock nudging your tight entrance. One hand grips the flesh of your thigh as he holds you from falling off the couch. The other wraps around the column of your throat. He gives it a gentle squeeze, not enough to cut off oxygen just enough to restrict it as he bullies his cock into you. 

Your vision blurs as he thrusts into you, his pace steady and even as he fucks you into the couch. Loud moans tear from your throat as he pounds into you. Your body trembles as his cock rubs against your walls. 

“Cum for me beautiful,” He grunts, applying more pressure to your throat. Tiny black pin pricks dance in your vision as he picks up his pace. Your legs trembling, Simon's brown eyes stare into you, his hips faltering as he gets closer to the edge. You moan loudly, air flooding your lungs as he releases your throat, and rubs tight fast circles on your clit. Your body tingles from head to toe as your orgasm rips through you. 

“Fuck!” Simon shouts as he stills inside you, his release painting your walls with thick white ropes of cum. He leans down pressing his forehead to yours as he breathes heavily. You stay like that for a moment, catching your breath as your legs stop trembling. 

“I love you,” you whisper, pressing your lips to his once more.

“I love you too,” he whispers back.

You and Simon change into your clothes, and he settles you in his lap, big arms wrapped around your waist as you snuggle into him. Your quiet moment doesn't last long, the tell tale sound of boots on the stairs causes both of you to look over at the glass doors. John stands just outside of them, Hope resting on his hip, a small smile on his face as he takes in the sight of you and Simon on the couch. Hope babbles happily in his arms, her chubby fingers grabbing at the brim of his Boonie hat. He pulls open the doors and steps into the room. Hope clapping her hands as she sees you. 

“Mamamamama” She babbles, reaching out to you, and you open your arms for her. John carefully puts her in your lap and brushes his fingers along your cheek. You glance up your eyes meeting his own, and that's when you see it, the hard lines around his eyes, the rigid set of his jaw as he watches you. 

“When do you leave?” You ask softly, focusing your attention on the baby in your arms as she yanks on your shirt.

“Later tonight, after the kids are in bed,” he sighs, “I'm sorry Darling, I tried to get out of it. But Laswell needs us.” 

Simon presses his face into your shoulder. There goes your bubble. Popped.

Next: Part 3

[lipglossanon]

Desire (I’m Hungry)

Corrupt Cop!Leon S. Kennedy x fem!reader

<< previous installment >>

Warnings: 18+ MDNI, Leon POV, dark thoughts, being filmed without consent aka Leon’s making a sex tape and reader has no clue, dirty talk, daddy kink, kissing, biting, blood kink, oral (m & f receiving), pussy spanking, clit biting, unprotected sex, creampie

not proofread ✌️

today marks one year that I officially published my first Leon x reader fic that just happened to be Corrupt Cop Leon! 💜 so happy anniversary to the OG! 😘

Title from Desire by Meg Myers 💜

It’s not unusual to see a police cruiser parked outside the library on any given night. Especially when you’re inside, finishing up whatever class work you can before heading home. 

Leon leans back against the passenger door, one leg crossed over the ankle of the other, arms folded over his chest. His walkie’s turned off since he’s not on duty and he can hear the whispers of people passing him by, from the curious looks of kids to loose women giving him sultry smiles. Except for a cursory glance, his mind doesn’t linger on any single one of them. 

Drumming his fingers on his bicep, he tilts his head as he catalogs the outside of the building. He’s done this a thousand times at this point. Even before you knew he came around, when he would follow you home and watch you from his squad car. He kind of misses those days.    

The sound of a door opening pulls his attention up the library steps. Once you fully step out into the cool evening air, your eyes immediately seek him out. Satisfaction coils deep in his gut as your face breaks out into a bright smile at seeing him. Although he loved quietly following you, having you seek him out is much better. His eyes track your body as you carefully take the stairs and walk over to him. 

He only had to chastise you one time about not rushing down the steps. (You cried so prettily on his cock after he spanked your pussy raw. But the lesson stuck and he hasn’t had to remind you once, such a good girl). 

“Hi,” your soft voice hits his ears and he’s smirking at your shyness. 

“Hi, pretty girl, ready to go?”

You nod, “All set. Thank you for taking me home.”

“Of course, don’t want you getting hurt,” he murmurs, uncrossing his arms to brush a thumb across your cheekbone, “here, let me take your bag.”

Eyes fond, you hand him your book bag and wait for him to open the passenger door for you. Watching as you sit, he sees when your skirt rucks up around your thighs and it makes his blood run hot, pulse quickening in his neck. He walks around the trunk of the car, placing your bag in the back before climbing into the driver seat. 

He checks his mirrors and blind spots before pulling away from the curb. As soon as he’s on the street, his hand grips the dough of your thigh closest to the gear shift. A giddy thrum of excitement bleeds through his thoughts when he hears your little gasp. You’re so easy for him. His pretty, perfect girl. 

He no longer stifles those thoughts or impulses that once might have gotten him locked up. You invite his dark urges in with wet eyes and an even wetter cunt. Today’s special even if you don’t know it. He’s planned a little surprise, something he’s been wanting to do for a while now. 

Glancing out of the corner of his eye, he watches you surreptitiously, taking in the  changing expressions as he drives closer and closer to your house. Just seeing your face makes him ache all the way down to his marrow. He wants to sink his teeth into you until he tastes blood.

“Should we eat out for dinner?”

He glances over at you and tightens his fingers, giving your thigh a quick squeeze. 

“Sure, sweetheart.”

He parks outside your house, letting you walk up to your front stoop first as he grabs your bag. You unlock the door as soon as he joins you, his hand palming your lower back to usher you into the house. Dropping your school bag down onto the floor, he uses both hands to grip your hips, pushing you back against the closed front door. 

Desire pulses throughout his body, a deep seated hunger that makes him want to crack open your rib cage and crawl inside. He’s sure your beating heart would sate this visceral reaction to the possessive want that engulfs his thoughts.

But kissing you will have to suffice for now. 

Your lips part on a sigh as he licks into your mouth, tongue greedy and hot as he tastes you deeply. His fingers dig into your skin, thumbs pressed uncomfortably against your hip bones; he gloats to himself as the twinge of pain has you arching into him. If he could, Leon would rip you apart at the seams, swallow you whole til nothing’s left. 

You whimper into his harsh kisses while your hands grab onto his chest, badge nearly pricking your fingers as you try to find purchase against his uniform. He lets go of your waist to circle his fingers around your wrists, pushing them against the door on either side of your head. Pulling back, his sea dark eyes take in your dilated pupils and swollen lips. 

Now, he thinks, is the perfect time to drag you into your room.

Leon kisses you again, heatedly, pulling you into the bedroom with little preamble. For the surprise he’s been planning, he made sure to sneak into your house earlier in the day. He then hid a camera perfectly angled on your nightstand where you couldn’t see it. 

His mouth waters at the thought of filming everything he wants to do to you. Excitement heightens his aggressiveness. He can’t wait to take you apart in front of the lens, especially without you knowing. He shivers as he licks hungrily into your mouth. 

“Leon,” you whisper when he drags his mouth down to bite your neck, “thought we were going out to dinner?”

“Well, I am gonna eat you out,” he crudely states with a grin, “but first let’s see those pretty tits.”

Biting your bottom lip softly, you step back and pull your shirt off. His eyes watch as you nervously take off your bra and drop it into the floor with your shirt. Leon lets his hands reach out to grope and pinch your hard nipples. His cock throbs where it’s trapped in his pants.

“Get naked, pretty girl, wanna see you,” he coaxes, smile wicked when you do as he says.

Sitting on the edge of your bed, he faces the camera, pulling you down into his lap, your back to his chest. The juxtaposition of having you completely naked on his lap while he’s in uniform makes him bite down on your shoulder hard. You squeal and try to move, but he wraps his arms around you, pinning you in place. 

After you settle down, his hands move to squeeze the fat of your breasts until it dimples between his fingers. Your nipples tighten even further under his palms as he runs them across the stiff buds. 

“Such a good girl,” he kisses the side of your neck, eyes glinting when they look over to the hidden device, “bet that cute pussy’s soaked, sweetheart.”

Squirming against him, you whine pitifully, grinding your wet cunt down onto his bulge, “Daddy, please.”

“Such a well mannered girl,” he coos sweetly, luring you into relaxing against him further. 

The flat of his fingers come down in a hard slap against your pussy, a sharp gasp parting your pretty lips. Leon spanks across your fat cunt until you’re hiccuping little cries, tears streaming down your face to drip onto your chest. Even with the pain, you still part your legs for him, letting him drag his fingers across your wet slit. 

He wonders absently as he toys with your clit if you’d let him bite you here, sink his teeth in your sweet little bud til you scream. That thought alone has precum dripping from his tip, making his briefs damp. 

“Such a slutty cunt,” he whispers in your ear, feeling you shiver, “like when daddy shows you who’s in charge, sweetheart?”

“Yes, sir,” you sniffle wetly. 

That ugly need to hurt you ramps up again and he pinches your clit roughly until you bleat in pain. 

“Good girl,” he chuckles, fingers softly petting your cunt, “my perfect girl.”

“All yours, daddy,” you automatically respond. 

Your voice is hoarse from all your crying and it makes his chest burn like his solar plexus is caving in.

“That’s right,” he croons, cupping your breasts in his hands, thumbs swiping across your nipples, “daddy’s got such a smart pretty girl.”

He wants to laugh at how those words make you press against him, praise making you stupid and pliant for him.

“Get on the floor,” he pushes at your shoulders, “think that sweet mouth deserves a reward.”

Eagerly, you slide off his lap onto your knees, turning around to face him. He unbuckles his belt and undoes his pants, pushing them down his thighs so he can tuck his briefs underneath his balls comfortably. His weeping cock bobs in front of your face, tip brushing across your cheek and smearing precum across your skin. 

“Kiss it, baby, show me how much you want daddy in your mouth,” he grins at you. 

Your shyness just makes him harder as you press a feather light kiss to his dick. He watches as your lips and tongue work in tandem to gently kiss and lick at his fat cockhead. You sigh hard enough he feels the dampness of your breath before your tongue lathes underneath the foreskin, lapping up the sticky precum dripping from his slit. You moan while you taste him, eyes fluttering closed as you get more and more eager at sucking him off. 

Thighs twitching, he grunts when you suck him into your warm mouth, tongue cupping the head when you withdraw, lips tightly wrapped around the tip of his dick. He feels as you circle the head of his cock with your tongue, dipping the slick muscle into his slit to draw out more precum. 

“Good girl,” he groans when your mouth drops down to kiss and suck at his balls. 

Leon keeps his gaze on you as you try to suck both of his balls into your wet mouth, whimpering when you can only fit one. Smearing your own spit across your face, you nuzzle into his squishy sac, mouthing and lapping at the sensitive skin before sucking each of his balls again. 

Whining, you eagerly lap at his sac, tongue slowly tracing up the seam. Your lips meet the base of his cock before you flick your tongue back around his balls. Reaching down, he grabs the back of your neck, pulling your mouth up to suck on his cock. A choked off moan reverberates around his dick as your lips part to sink down around the first few inches. His abs tense when he feels the spit drip down his dick onto his balls. 

“So good, sweetheart,” he murmurs, halfway tempted to gag you on his dick— maybe even choke you on it til you pass out.

More precum blurts across your tongue as he pictures your eyes rolling back, body going limp from lack of air. His fingers spasm around your neck as the tip bumps into the back of your throat. Bucking up into your mouth, the tightness around his cock increases and you retch loudly. 

“Take it or I’m going to get mean with you,” he narrows his eyes down at you.

You cough again, a wet dirty sound as he pulls his cock halfway out of your mouth only to press back in deep, the fat head kissing the back of your throat immediately. It would be easy to keep you here, swallowing around him til he came or you blacked out. His eyes cut to the hidden camera before flicking back down to you. Maybe next time he’ll try it, but for now he wants to make this last longer for the video. 

Rolling his neck til it cracks, he lets you go, watching with hidden glee as you pull off with a gross coughing fit and wet eyes. The dough of your thighs press together drawing his gaze where he can actually see a light sheen of slick coating them. Taking a hitched shuddery breath, you lean forward and kitten lick the head, soft tongue cleaning up any precum spilling from the slit down his cock. 

A flash of your mouth split open and a bloody chin makes Leon place his hands under your armpits and yank you up, turning sideways to toss you onto the bed. He crawls on top of you and kisses you hard enough to bruise. Sinking teeth into your lower lip, he brings his vision to life as he works the wet skin til it splits, the warm taste of pennies flooding his mouth. 

Growling like an animal, he sucks your bloody lip raw. He finally leans up, taking in the mess of your mouth with unreasonable pride. 

“So pretty,” he smiles down at you, blood coating his teeth, “my sweet girl.”

“Yours,” you nod dazedly, eyes blown in arousal, “m’yours, daddy.” 

He moves off the bed and begins to undress, taking extra care to set his holster and gun on top of your dresser. Once his uniform is off, he lays it out on a nearby chair in order to keep it off the floor. It just wouldn’t do to get it unnecessarily dirty. 

He climbs back onto the bed, eyes zeroing in on your bleeding mouth with the awareness of a predator tracking prey. He smiles and grabs your thighs, shoving them up until they’re nearly touching your shoulders. 

“Think it’s time I kiss my sweet girl hello,” his eyes drop from yours down to your soaked cunt, “aww, she always cries so hard for me, baby.”

He shuffles down onto his stomach, hands still pressing on your thighs as he leans in and kisses your swollen cunt.

“Greedy little pussy,” he chuckles derisively, “always begging for more.”

He slides his hands down from your thighs to the outside of your cunt, pulling your pussy lips apart to spit on your clenching hole. 

“Daddy!” 

He hears your voice crack before you gasp when he plunges his tongue into your pussy, fluttering the wet muscle as deep as possible into your spasming walls. You always taste like heaven, like he could die suffocated on your cunt and he’ll never find anything better. His eyes roll back when your slick floods his mouth, clit fat and swollen against his nose as your cunt squeezes down on his tongue.

Leon’s tongue laps at your hole before he runs the wet muscle up your slit to suck sloppily at your clit. He’s being as messy as possible; he knows you love it when your cunt’s coated in his spit after eating you out. The only thing better is when he cums all over your pussy, making you wear your panties to keep that sweet cunt wet and sticky with his seed. 

Your cries and whines fall on deaf ears as he eats you out at his leisure. He makes you cum twice before finally trying out the little earworm that has eaten away at his brain since earlier. Thighs shaking from the last orgasm, you're completely out of it when Leon dips his head and bites down on your fat throbbing clit. 

He growls and humps the bed as you thrash under him, hips trying to buck up to throw him off, hands digging into his hair but he doesn’t budge. He closes his teeth even tighter around your swollen bud and you screech, legs kicking out at him. Leon laughs at you, arms coming up and pinning your lower half down onto the bed. He readjusts his mouth and bites your clit harder than before. 

“No, no, daddy! Please!”

You sob brokenly and Leon feels like he’s going to cum all over the sheets. Letting go, Leon pulls his mouth away for a second wanting to see your tortured little bundle of nerves. It looks so swollen that it makes his jaw ache. He licks and kisses over your clit until you’re whimpering in pleasure, hips writhing as Leon bathes your cunt with rough swipes of his tongue. He works you up to another orgasm and right as your pussy cums, clenching around nothing, he sinks his teeth back into your clit with a groan. 

“Daddy, daddy! Leon, please!”

Your cunt gushes slick as the pain morphs into pleasure, babbling and pleading for more even as Leon sucks your bud into his mouth, hot tongue circling your abused clit. 

“Ready for daddy to to fuck your pretty little cunt?” He rumbles, tongue lashing across your bundle of nerves making you whine. 

“Please, daddy.”

There’s drool and blood all down your chin and he thinks you’re the most beautiful thing he’s ever laid his eyes upon. If he were a better man, he would tell you so. 

Leon crawls back up your body, dragging his cock against your thighs until the tip bumps against your sopping wet pussy. His eyes catalog your wince when his dick drags across your clit and he kisses you until spit runs down your jaw. Balancing himself on one forearm, he brings his other hand down to notch the tip of his cock at your soaked hole. 

“Let me in, pretty girl,” he licks up the blood on your chin as he works his cock into your cunt, “let me stuff this soft little pussy with cum.”

Keening high in your throat, you grind your head against the pillow and Leon takes that opportunity to savagely bite into the side of your neck. He can feel you wheeze in pain underneath his teeth at the same time your pussy walls flutter and clamp down on his cock. Sweet satisfaction hums like electricity in his blood. He trails kisses from the nasty bite mark up to your ear, nipping the lobe. 

“You like what I do to you, don’t you, sweetheart?” He kisses your temple before shifting until his forearms are on either side of your neck, hips rolling back before thrusting forward. 

The tight clutch of your pussy makes him dizzy with lust, knowing he can do anything to you and you’ll not only take it, but like it. The camera is practically an afterthought by this point. Leon’s focus is now on making your hot little pussy cream all over his cock before he shoots his load deep into your hole. 

“Always take it so well,” his baritone rumbles low in his chest and you shudder under him, “got daddy addicted to your soft chubby pussy, baby, always wanna be buried in her.”

Your nails dig into his skin but he loves the stinging scratches you leave on him; proof that you need him just as much as he needs you. He has half a mind to drag this out for hours and hours, but he really wants to send the tape over to Chris. Smugly show off his pretty girl and the sweet sounds she makes for him. 

Leon prides himself on keeping his cool even when he’s buried to the hilt inside your deliciously hot pussy. This time, his nerves fray quicker than he’s used to; too many fun things have happened and all in front of the camera so he can look back on it later. Being able to watch your face again as he bites your clit makes his hips rabbit fast and hard against yours, pussy squelching loudly between your bodies. 

“Got me so worked up,” he laughs, one forearm moving all he can glide his fingers down your side and across your hip, seeking out your sore clit, “squeeze the cum out of me, sweetheart, let daddy give you a nice thick creampie.”

“Ohhh,” you moan shakily, “daddy, please, w’nt it.”

“You’re gonna get it,” he promises, voice dark, “you’re gonna take everything I give you.”

The hot pulsing walls of your pussy makes his hips flex harder, bullying his cock into your cervix, needing to get as deep as possible in your body. 

“Sucking me in,” he murmurs, fingers gently circling your sensitive bundle of nerves, “your sweet cunt’s made for this, isn’t she baby?”

“Yes, Leon, ‘m made for you,” you babble out, eyelashes sticking together from tears as you pant and moan, “daddy, I’m g’nna cum.”

“Fuck, then do it, pretty girl, cream all over me, work this cum into that sweet hole,” he groans when your walls clamp down on his dick. 

He swipes across your clit a few more times as he ruts his cock in and out of your pussy, grinding the fat tip across your g-spot until your back arches, a loud scream pouring from your mouth. 

“Good girl,” he praises, knowing you can't hear him, “doing so well for me, sweetheart.”

As your soft walls pulse and flutter around his dick, he adjusts his hands to hold him up above your body so he can rail you into the mattress. 

“Too much,” you whimper, “Leon, s’too deep.”

“Shhh,” he reaches down to twist a nipple until you clench around his cock, “let me rearrange those guts, baby, daddy needs to cum, too.”

You nod, tears falling down your temples to collect on the pillow and his hips snap harder— the sight of you crying on his cock always does him in quick. He thrusts half a dozen more times before his hips begin to stutter. Burying himself balls deep, Leon’s cock kicks and throbs while he spills hot sticky cum all inside your clenching pussy walls. 

While he fills your cunt with rope after rope of thick jizz, he groans long and low against your ear, “Perfect baby, taking it so well for me.”

“Leon,” you whisper lightly, hands carding through his hair and giving him goosebumps.

He settles his body weight down on you, cock plugging up your pussy so his cum doesn’t leak out onto the bedspread. 

“Gotta surprise for you,” he kisses the side of your head and slowly maneuvers until he can quickly shuffle you around to face the hidden lens. 

He pulls out his half chubbed cock, cream colored slick oozing from your pussy when he spreads it open. 

Smiling up at you, he nods to your nightstand, “Smile for the camera, sweetheart. Show’em what a messy little pussy looks like.”

He watches in utter delight as your brows pinch together before realization dawns across your face. Tears bead in your eyes and he chuckles. 

“Aww don’t be that way,” he croons, fingers digging into your used hole to work more cum into spilling out between your thighs, “be a good girl and let everyone see the creampie daddy left in your pretty cunt.”

Your cubby lips stay spread as he fingers more of his cum out of your hole. 

“So swollen baby,” he groans, fingers glancing across your fat clit, “can’t wait to watch this back.”

You squirm but he catches the hitched breath and dilated eyes. Grinning darkly, he nuzzles against your ear. 

“Maybe next time it’ll be a livestream of how I ream my pretty girl’s tight little pussy,” he kisses the shell of your ear as you moan quietly, “yeah, or maybe we’ll get someone in to watch me take you apart.”

You shiver and writhe against him, pussy sucking his fingers in even as he slowly drags them out of your spent cunt. 

“Guess we’ll need to save that for later though,” he clicks his tongue, moving away from you to shut the camera off, “now let’s go get a shower so we can go out to dinner, sweetheart.”

[starcrossed-lov3rz]

The Vow Spoken Through Time - Part 11

Daemon x Rhaenyra x Wife!Reader

Series: Series Masterlist

Warnings: MDNI, yelling, plot

Tags: marriage, poly relationship, Daemon being hopelessly in love with his wives, Queen!Rhaenyra

Words: 1.2K

Description: Y/N is having a rough morning. She's fired. She's hungover. She's in a stranger's bed. She's waking up in a new world? She's married?!

Rhaenyra and Daemon's day started normal. Waking up next to their darling wife before tending to their duties. The difference? Their wife is speaking in riddles and has no memories of them.

Check out more works in my Masterlist!

The tree behind you is identical to the heart tree in the keep. But as you look out, you and Daemon are clearly standing in the middle of a city park. The street and cars are visible from your position. 

“We’re in my world now.”

You walk around, trying to get your bearings. 

“Where are you going? We need to get back!” Daemon caught up to you. 

“No, Daemon, I spent months letting you and Rhaenyra try to convince me that my life wasn’t real.” You continue walking until you hit a road. Looking at the name, you sigh in relief. That witch outdid herself. Not only are you back in your world, you’re in the same city and just a few blocks from your apartment. 

“What do you want me to say, y/n? That I’m sorry?”

You scoffed, “actually that would be a lovely start.” Speedwalking down the sidewalk, you try not to think about all the weird stares you’re both getting. 

“Y/n,” Daemon grabs your arm to stop you. 

“Hey man, leave her alone!” A passerby stops, grabbing Daemon’s arm in an attempt to pull him away.

“If you wish to keep that hand, you will remove it at once,” Daemon growls.

“It’s okay! No one is going to hurt anyone!” you jump in. “Thank you for stopping, but I promise everything is fine. My husband is just in the dog house at the moment.” The stranger’s brows furrow, but he releases Daemon’s arm. He’s openly staring at Dark Sister on Daemon’s hip. “Oh Jesus H. Christ,” you sigh, rubbing your forehead. “We are….uh…cosplayers. Yeah, my husband and I cosplay, and this was for a photo shoot.”

“No we-”

“Yep, we are just big fans of that medieval times shit!” 

The stranger nods slowly, clearly regretting his choice to stop. “Well, um, have fun with that? Sorry, I just saw this dude manhandling-”

“No worries,” you say, pulling Daemon to walk away with you. “Thanks for looking out for me.”

Daemon is seething as you walk away, his hand drifting down towards Dark Sister’s hilt. “Why did you interfere? I had that handled!”

You don’t even try to bite back the laugh. “Really? You had it handled? What were you going to do, cut off his hand?”

“Yes!”

“Welcome to 2024,” you snort. “Even if you did, someone would have called the cops on the lunatic running around with a sword.”

“I am the Prince Consort-”

“I promise you no one here cares,” you groan. “We don’t really do all that here.”

You drag Daemon into your apartment building’s entry, running into one of your downstairs neighbors. “Hey Dani!” you say, “Going for a beach day?”

“You know it girl,” she grins, hoisting her tote bag up. “Gotta get some use out of the bikini and find myself a sugar daddy.”

“Where are we, and why is that woman in her small clothes?” Daemon asks, not bothering to lower his voice. 

Dani glares, pulling her coverup closed. You’re shocked, but you elbow Daemon. “I am so sorry for him,” you stumble over yourself. “He’s….he’s amish. They don’t have bikinis….or apartments?”

She nods and leaves, clearly upset. 

“Daemon what the fuck? You can’t just say tha-”

He doesn’t even have the decency to look apologetic, merely looking down at you with a grin. “Do you have a bikini as well?”

You groan, hitting the button for the elevator. “You’re something else, you know that? I have half a mind to leave you alone so I can sulk in peace.” You hop on the elevator, and Daemon follows warily. He looks very unsure of the device. “You’re lucky I love you,” you sigh.

“What’s stopping you from abandoning me in this world?” Daemon asks. “You were clearly ready to cut all ties to us.”

“It’s complicated,” you say. “I was upset and needed space. But I could never just abandon you here, you wouldn’t last a day and I wouldn’t forgive myself.”

“Does this mean you’re coming home?” 

You step off the elevator, ignoring his question in favor of rummaging under your front door’s welcome mat for a spare key. 

“My love, I’m sorry for not believing you,” Daemon begins. “Nyra is going to be worried sick, please just come back with me.”

“Daemon, I love you but I need time.” You sigh, looking around your apartment for your phone. It was still plugged in next to your bed. Picking it up, you saw the date. “That’s weird,” you murmur, “no time has passed.”

“What do you mean?”

“Today is the same day I woke up as her.”

“You’ve been with us for months though,” Daemon whispered. 

“I guess time works differently when you’re traveling worlds.” You shuck off your dress and rummage through your drawers to find a bra. “I never thought I’d say it, but damn I miss bras.” You slip into a tshirt and jeans before trying to find something for Daemon to wear. 

“My love, are you sure that is appropriate to be outside in?”

You groan, finding a pair of your ex’s jeans and a baggy shirt. “These should fit, just put them on and try to keep your opinions to yourself.”

“But y/-”

“No buts, do you want food or not?”

Daemon nodded, changing in silence as his eyes flickered around the room. “What is this?” he asked, gesturing towards your phone.

“It’s a cellphone. Think of it like a raven, I guess,” you say. “I can use it to write or talk to anyone in the world right now.”

“That’s impossible,” Daemon snorted. “Not even the fastest raven cou-”

You roll your eyes, dialing up your favorite pizza joint and putting them on speakerphone. “Hey, can I order pickup? A  large pepperoni pizza and garlic knots for y/n.”

“20 minutes.”

Daemon stood, mouth agape as he heard the voice come through the other side of the line. You smirked, hanging up the phone. “Just wait until you find out about TV.”

“What is pizza?” 

“The greatest thing since sliced bread.”

“What’s sliced bre-”

NOTE: It's me againnnnnnnnnnnnnnnn. Not gonna bore ya'll with the life drama, but damn life is crazy. Anyway, here's a chapter PLUS no spoilers but later today I'm dropping the first chapter to a new fic and the main love interest is *drum roll* WOLVERINE BB. As always - some ppl I can’t tag, so if you’re listed on the tag list and not receiving notifications, please check that your settings are on “allow this blog to appear in search results” or message me if I messed up the spelling! ~ Lacie <3

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[pretty-little-mind33]

Colt Seavers x fem!reader

&

Tom Ryder x fem!reader

Summary: When Tom Ryder cockily asks Colt if he can share you with him, your boyfriend is initially disgusted. You? You're less disgusted—

Genre: SMUT (nsfm)

Warnings: it's a LONG one, threesome, p in v, unprotected sex (only in fiction where babies or STDs don't have to exist 💖☺️), oral sex (m receiving), Eiffel Tower? kinda, praise, slight spanking, degradation, good cop and bad cop dynamic, sweet and stupid pet names, daddy kink, Colt and Tom low-key high-key dislike each other in the beginning, polyamorous relationship implied in the end if you squint, FILTHY SMUT (i don't know what came over me i just can't get them both out of my head)

~ ✨ something for my ryan gosling and atj girlies ✨ ~

TOM RYDER MASTERLIST

Colt leans against the steps of Tom's trailer, his back against the door as he bandages his arm. He'd just been blown out of a building, thrown around, and now his entire body hurts.

The only good thing right now is that he sees you. 

"Colt," you say, running up to him, careful not to trip over the gravel, and as you sit next to him, you look him over, "you okay?" you whisper, your eyes round as you take in his appearance and touch his cheek. He smiles at you, looking completely love-sick as he tucks some hair behind your ear.

"Hi," he says, his voice soft.

You smile at him, "Hi," you lean in and kiss his lips. When you pull away, you run your hand in his hair. "You did so well in your scene. Did it hurt?" you ask him seriously. 

Colt shakes his head and with a pained chuckle, he lifts his arm and gives you a thumbs up. "It's the job, cupcake," he smiles and grunts when he moves his arm. You caress your hand down his cheek, your concern evident.

"I'm gonna find you some water," you say, determined, and jump up, smiling at him as you walk away. Colt's enamored gaze lingers on you for a moment until his peace is broken by Tom Ryder's presence. 

"Is that your girl?" he asks, emerging from his trailer dressed in only the pants of his costume and a towel wrapped around his shoulders as if he'd just done the most strenuous exercise of his life—which he hadn't because Tom Ryder doesn't do his own stunts.

Tom whistles and brings the straw of his juice box into his mouth. He says, "How'd you secure a girl like that, Colt? She's way too hot for someone like you." 

"Charming as always, Tom," Colt groans and stares up at his coworker, "Don't you have anything better to do than creep around? Go sign some posters or something. Learn your lines, I dunno, just stop bothering me or my girl."

Tom chuckles. "You're the one leaning against my trailer looking like a broken-down rat."

"And whose fault is that?" Colt hisses. He stands and rotates his shoulder around.

"Take it up with Gail! 'M not in charge of those things." Tom raises his hand in defense, and then his small smile turns into a smirk.

 "But, we're friends, hm, Colt?" 

Colt glares at him, his tone deadpanned. "Sure, Tom. We're friends," he says sarcastically.

"And friends share, don't they?" Tom leans against his trailer and crosses his arms, a dangerously arrogant gaze in his eyes. "You wouldn't mind sharing your girl, would you? She's cute."

Colt's frown deepens and he hears you walk back to him. He narrows his eyes and points at Tom menacingly. "In your fucking dreams," he says and then turns to you as you hand him the glass of water you'd found.

He thanks you and then his smile vanishes when he sees you look up at Tom, your gaze on his toned abs. Tom seems over the moon that you're staring. 

"Hi, doll," he says, sounding cocky.  

"Hi," you answer him, clearly flustered that you're speaking with the Tom Ryder and Tom clearly knows this. He opens his mouth to answer you but Colt isn't having any of this. Your boyfriend hooks his arm around your shoulders and guides you away from Tom. 

"That's enough movie stars, sweetness, let's go home," he whispers in your ear. 

"Think about what I said, will you, Colt," Tom calls out, his tone light and you feel your boyfriend's hand tighten around your shoulder instinctively.

In Colt's truck, he's quiet as he grips the steering wheel so hard his knuckles turn white. He doesn't even ask if you want to do donuts, which is uncommon for him. 

"Are you okay?" you ask him, moving to the center and putting your hand on his thigh. "Is it because of what Tom Ryder said? What did he mean?" 

Colt's jaw clenches and he dismisses your concern. "Don't worry about it, cupcake," he says but you do worry. 

"I am worrying. Please tell me," you say, in a tone you know Colt can usually never resist. Only this time, he does. 

"No."

You narrow your eyes at him. "Well, now I'm thinking of the worst possible scenario."

"It is the worst possible scenario."

"What is?"

"Tom Ryder getting his filthy hands on you—wait," Colt's head snaps to you, his eyes round, realizing what you just did and you crack a remorseful smile. 

"Why would Tom Ryder get his hands on me, Colt?" you whisper, ignoring how your mind plays every possible scenario of Tom Ryder having you in your head and you don't hate them. 

Colt lets out a sigh and rubs his eyes. "He just said some stupid stuff—as usual," he pauses for a moment, "He asked if I could share you with him."

You stare at Colt, confused. "What?"

Colt senses your confusion and puts a hand on your thigh. "It was an awful thing to say, don't worry about him. I told him no, of course."

You blink at him, taking in what he'd just told you. Tom Ryder wanted you? He'd asked Colt to share you. You know you shouldn't, but you feel flattered. The Tom Ryder had the nerve to ask your boyfriend to have you?! Did Tom desire you that much?

"Oh," you say, your voice fading at the end, because what else could you say? 

Colt turns his head back at the road, but he gives you a side-eye. "Oh?" His voice sounds tense. 

You snap out of your daze and immediately shake your hands in the air. "I mean, oh–as in–gross. I'm not interested or anything! I only want you! Why would he even ask that, he's such a creep!" you say, meaning it. 

Colt's shoulders untense a moment and he sighs. "Yeah, I know baby," he says, "I trust you—it's just a weird thing to imagine, y'know?" 

You nod but your mind wanders to the image in question and you feel warm. 

"Yeah, but you don't have to worry! I don't want Tom Ryder. He's a dick," you say. It's true. Tom Ryder is a dick and you would never even think of cheating on Colt.

Colt Seavers is lovely and he treats you well and you mean every word you've said to him—you love him.

But Tom Ryder is still Tom Ryder. 

* * *

Over the next weeks or so, you visit Colt more often than usual. You don't even realize you're doing it but you start putting more attention into your outfits, your hair, and your makeup. Of course, while you don't seek out interactions with Tom Ryder, they do tend to happen more frequently. 

Colt seems to notice this too and his blood runs cold when he sees Tom wink at you as he leans over you to grab a prop from behind you.

It isn't Tom's wink that annoys him as much as it is the way you look at Tom. Colt feels like someone just punched him directly in the stomach and it makes him feel so stupid.  

He needs to talk to you.

On his way over, Tom walks by him and smirks at him. "She's even cuter when she's trying to be," he taunts and Colt restrains himself from socking him.

"Y/n." Colt's hand skims your arm when he approaches you and you turn to him, smiling so innocently he almost feels ashamed. "Hi, baby," he whispers, his voice soothing as he pulls you into him and kisses your forehead. You wrap your arm around his torso and kiss his nose. 

"Hi, Colt," you say happily, "I saw your stunt. It was absolutely amazing!"

Your boyfriend smiles and he hears the sincerity in your voice. He caresses a hand down your cheek and his tone is kind when he says, "I need to talk to you." 

Your smile disappears. "Is everything okay?" 

Colt takes your hand and leads you further from the crowd of crew members around you and his thumb strokes across your palm. "Yeah, yeah, everything's fine I've just noticed you've been slightly distracted lately." 

You tilt your head. "Distracted?" 

He nods. "Yeah. Distracted. With Tom." His eyes drift to your exposed thigh. 

Your stomach drops and you make a face. You look confused and Colt can almost see the wheels turning in your head. "What do you mean?" you ask, your voice a little shaky as you pull down your skirt to cover more of your thigh subconsciously. 

"Do you remember when I said Tom wanted me to share you with him?" Colt asks bluntly and he sees your eyes widen in realization. 

"N-no," you lie. 

Colt frowns. "Liar," he says calmly and crosses his arms. He sees your hurt expression and his eyes soften. "Okay, listen, baby, I just want you to be honest with me. If you're suddenly all attracted to Tom Ryder, I think I deserve to know because I love you, and if y-you want to explore something with someone like Ryder—"

You panic and cut him off, holding onto his arms. "Colt, I don't want anyone else. I love you," you say, your hands moving up his arms so you can cup his cheeks and you kiss him.

You pull away and bite your lip, deciding to be honest with him because you can't deny what you're doing anymore. "But," you pause and Colt's blue eyes bounce from your features with panic. 

"But, I- I am slightly—turned on by the idea of um—Tom."

Colt sees the embarrassment on your face after you say this and his breathing picks up. At first, he doesn't quite know what to do about this information. He stares at you and when he sees you squirm under his gaze, he takes your hand in his. 

"Thank you for being honest with me," he whispers and then pauses, contemplating what to say next. "So, what do we do from here, baby? I-Is um—sharing—something you would really want to try?" 

You nod, looking up at him with wide eyes. "But, only if you're comfortable, Colt. It can stay a fantasy otherwise. I promise." 

Fantasy. 

That word hits him hard. So this is something you really want, something you've actually spent time thinking about—something you've fantasized about.

The thought alone makes Colt's cheeks turn pink as blood rushes to his dick. He sighs and brings his hand up to your cheek again. 

"I don't want to deprive you of want you want, especially if the third party is so fucking willing," he mentions Tom with a slight spike in his tone but bites his tongue, "but I don't know if I can handle watching you be with him. Of him having you completely. I don't know if I can deal with that asshole getting to have you like that," he says honestly. 

You nod. "I understand," you say. 

Colt lets out another sigh and twirls some of your hair in his fingers. "But, I suppose we could find a compromise. On my terms, not his." He sees the look in your eye shift from slight disappointment to excitement as you imagine the possibilities. Colt's chest burns and he can't deny his temptation at the thought.

He's so fucked. 

* * * 

Tom Ryder's bedroom is dimly lit and there is a faint smell of cologne and aftershave in the air as steam comes from his bathroom. 

You're sitting on his King bed, the satin sheets feel soft under your fingers and against the exposed skin of your bare thighs. Colt stands in front of you, his arms crossed and his expression hard as he watches Tom come out of the bathroom. 

Tom's wearing a blue and white robe with nothing but a pair of blue slacks, his toned abs on full display. His curly blond hair sprawled messily across his forehead and he smirks at you. Then, his eyes shift to Colt. "Loosen up there, man. You're making me nervous. Sit," he says and points to a modern-looking armchair in the corner. 

"Don't tell me what to do," Colt snaps back and Tom raises his hand in mock surrender. You look between them, moving your hands to rest between your knees as you hold your breath. 

Colt stares at Tom, his jaw clenched. "Okay, Y/n and I discussed some rules beforehand," he says and he doesn't like the way​ Tom rolls his eyes but he doesn't address it. "If you don't follow them, it just gives me a reason to beat your ass, capeesh?" 

"Yeah, yeah," Tom nods and sits on the bed next to you, not touching you yet but your skin prickles at the closeness anyway. "Get on with it then." 

"Firstly, I don't want to see a single bruise or mark on her," he says sternly, "she's not yours to mark. Secondly, her safe word is red and if she says it, you stop immediately no ifs or buts, and lastly, you can do whatever foreplay you want but no fucking." 

Tom frowns, narrowing his eyes. "Excuse me?" 

"No. Fucking. Her," Colt says again. 

You listen to them, feeling like your entire body is on fire as you try and ignore how soaked your panties already are.

The feeling only worsens when Tom turns to you and asks, "Is that right? You don't want me to fuck you, sweetie?" His voice sounds like velvet and you squirm under his gaze.

"Hey," Colt snaps his fingers and Tom turns to look at him again, "Do not speak to her yet, you fucking dick." 

"Fuck, alright, no need to get your panties in a twist, man," Tom grumbles and runs a hand in his hair. "I understand, okay? No fucking the pretty girl. Can we just do this? I'm getting fucking blue balls over here." He adjusts his pants and you can't help the way your eyes drift to the outline of his dick. 

He's already hard. 

"You okay, baby?" Colt asks you, his voice much softer now, "You still wanna do this, yeah?" 

You nod. 

Colt waits for a verbal reply. 

"Yes, I still want to do this," you say, looking between Tom and Colt, your cheeks burning. Tom smirks at this and his attention turns to you, his blue eyes sparkling as he takes in your appearance. 

"You're so sweet," he murmurs as he leans in, his lips attaching to the skin behind your ear. You gasp, feeling his hands around your waist as the fabric of your skirt accidentally bunches up a little. Colt inhales, hesitating but ultimately relenting as he sits on the armchair and his gaze fixes on you and Tom. 

You make a small little squeak as Tom lifts you up and gently tosses you further up onto his bed, the soft mattress bouncing as you hit the multiple pillows Tom keeps on his bed. In seconds, his knee slots between your thighs as he hovers over you, and his lips find your neck, gently kissing your skin.

Your hands find the sleeves of his robe instinctively, accidentally pulling them down in your haze as you arch into him, the feeling of his lips overwhelming you. 

Tom chuckles when he feels the rob slide down his shoulders and he hums into your neck, "Eager little thing, aren't you?" he says as the robe falls down until he's now completely shirtless. 

Colt feels his stomach tighten as his hands clamp around the armchair. The sound of your pretty moans—the ones you used to make only for him fill the room and it takes everything in him not to rip the velvet armrest of Tom's stupid chair. 

Tom's lips trail down your neck, his hand coming up your arm as he hooks his finger in one of the straps of your tank top, pulling it down your shoulder. You moan, arching into him again as his other hand finds your thigh and he positions your leg around him, his hips lowering to grind into yours.    

Your skirt is now bunched around your waist, your wet panties very visible to anyone who looks—and both Tom and Colt are definitely looking. 

"So fucking pretty," Tom groans, stroking your thigh as he moves to hover his mouth over yours, "Such a good girl," he says and then his lips crash into yours, kissing you passionately. 

Colt feels hot and cold at the same time as he shifts in his seat. He wants to stop this, to tell Tom to get the fuck off of you, and to stop kissing you. You're his. His heart skips when he hears your small little whimper and he sees your eyes watching him from behind Tom's shoulder.

Instantly, he recognizes the look of arousal on your face, and something inside him shifts. He can't help the way his dick twitches in his jeans. 

You moan into Tom's mouth, feeling his other hand now lower the second strap of your shirt until it's also bunched at your waist. Tom disconnects your lips just to see you in your bra and he licks his lips. You stare up at him, chest rising and falling rapidly as your body tingles all over and your pussy aches for him. 

Tom unhooks your leg from his body and then effortlessly shifts you so that you're straddling his lap. His muscles flex as he holds your waist and unhooks your bra. As soon as your breasts are revealed, Tom's mouth finds your nipples as he sucks. You gasp and wrap your arms around his neck, leaning into him as your cheeks press against his head, his soft curls caressing your skin. 

"Tom," you whimper, feeling like you're in heaven as he makes you feel good. "Tom," you whine.

Tom squeezes your ass, disconnecting his mouth from your hardened nipples and he looks up at you through his lashes."Mm, I love it when you say my name, sweetheart," he moans and kisses between your breasts, "Say it again. Louder. I want him to hear you say it."

Colt hadn't even realized he's started to palm himself through his jeans until Tom's voice jolts him and he frowns when he hears you again. 

"Tom!" you groan, chanting his name like a prayer, "Tom, Tom, Tom," you plead, tears brimming in your eyes as the entire sensation overwhelms you. "Please," you whimper. 

"Please?" Tom taunts, his hand finding your hair as he pulls on the strands so you can look down into his eyes. He sees how lidded your eyelids are and how blissed out you look and his chest swells with pride, "Fuck, you're such a slut." 

Colt's jaw clenches at the degrading name but he doesn't move, his hand only working harder on his dick. 

You whine, "Tom, please, please, please," you beg, "I need you." 

"Hear that, Colt? Your girl wants me—no sorry, she needs me," he taunts and then shifts you again, his hand still in your hair.

You squeal, his movement causing you to lift from his lap and shift to your knees as Tom does the same. He presses your back against his chest, holding you so you're looking at your boyfriend and then his other hand grips your jaw. 

"Tell him how good I'm making you feel," he whispers in your ear, biting your earlobe. 

Colt sits up, staring at you as his hand still moves over his dick. Fuck. He sees Tom's hold on you and while he's slightly worried, he also trusts that you'd use your safe word if he was hurting you. 

Plus, he can see how much you like this from the expression you're wearing. "H-he's making me feel s-so good," you whimper in a small voice, looking at Colt with teary eyes. 

Tom laughs and then he lifts your hips, sliding down your dress and tank top so you're only in your panties. You groan, suddenly feeling Tom's hand press on your back. You whimper as you bend down, your ass pressed right to his crotch.

Tom moves his hand from your back to your hair again, pressing you into the mattress as his thumb soothes circles on your scalp. You can see Colt from the position you're in, your eyes lidded as you feel Tom's other thumb trace over your panties. 

"Shit, man, she's so fucking wet," he chuckles, looking at Colt directly as he taunts him, "So fucking needy all for me." 

Colt lets out a groan, wanting to unbuckle his jeans and make his own ache go away. 

You whine as Tom presses his fingers against you, teasing you with his thumb as he presses you further into the sheets, muffling your sounds. He slaps your ass before resuming his movements. "Be still," he reprimands, slapping your ass again as he presses one of his fingers into you. 

You cry, feeling so good as you look at Colt. Tom's fully fingering you now, his thumb adding pressure to your clit as he pumps his finger in and out. 

"Colt," you whimper, watching your boyfriend as he rubs himself over his jeans. You can tell he's aroused to the point where it must be painful and you desperately want to please him. You whine again as Tom continues his movements, his other hand gripping your ass. "Colt, come here, please," you manage to say between your breathy whimpers and you sense Tom hesitate at your words, a little confused. 

Colt stands, his eyes blown wide with lust as he walks over to you and looks down at you, your hair spilling over the bed as you look up at him. Tom has slowed down his movements, which makes you whimper and Colt strokes a hand in your hair. He looks at Tom. "Don't stop making her feel good," he demands sternly.

"Who the fuck are you to tell me what to do?" Tom grunts, staring daggers at Colt now as he completely pauses all movement, "Get the fuck off. You said she was mine for tonight," he sounds almost whiny and Colt rolls his eyes. 

"I never said she was yours," Colt corrects him, "you can always fucking leave." 

"You're at my house!" 

"Please," your voice cuts into their arguing, your eyes still teary as you try and push back against Tom's fingers. You can barely form coherent sentences. "Colt, T-Tom, please," you whimper, needing them to do something. 

They fall silent and look at each other, hatred still simmering underneath but in the end, they both decide you're more important.

Tom grunts and he continues to finger you as he strokes a hand over your back. "Yeah, yeah, no need to beg me, sweetie," he says, his voice unusually soft. He pulls out his fingers and then goes to pull down his pants. 

"Woah," Colt says and Tom sends him a glare. 

"Relax," Tom says as he pumps his cock a few times, positioning his dick over your panties and sliding it up and down. "Daddy needs to feel good too," he grunts and you gasp, loving the new feeling as wetness slides down your thigh.

Colt stares at Tom like he's gone insane but his thoughts quickly drift to you when he hears your small whimpers. He looks down, his thumb still stroking in your hair. You look so pretty like this, all at his mercy. He slides his hand down to hook his thumb in your mouth. 

"Wanna make me feel good, baby?" he asks, his voice smooth. ‘

You nod, looking up at him with anticipation as he pulls out his thumb with a pop. He goes to unbuckle his jeans, looking at you with a smile as he sees your mouth open automatically as he prepares himself for you. 

Colt brings the tip to your lips, asking for entrance and you part your lips. You feel him grip his hand in your hair, encouraging you. "My good girl," he whispers as you hollow your cheeks around him, taking him in. You try your best not to be distracted by the feeling of Tom's cock against your pussy as you focus on pleasing Colt. 

You whine around Colt when Tom slaps your ass, "Dirty fucking slut," he grunts. 

Colt snaps his hips into yours, fully fucking into your face now and watching how drool pools at the corner of your mouth. He likes the sounds you're making for him. His cock drags across your tongue and you can taste his pre-cum. You whimper when Tom picks up the pace behind you, holding onto your hips for support. 

Colt pulls out of your mouth just in time to hear your pleas. "Please–I-I want him to fuck me," you whimper, your voice strained from just having his dick in your mouth. "I wanna be fucked, please, please, Colt." Tears spill from your eyes. 

Tom chuckles from behind you, his hand gripping your hips harder, and before he can make any snarky remark, Colt snaps, "Shut up," and then holds your chin. 

"You wanna be fucked, baby? Alright. Tom, switch with me."

For once, Tom doesn't protest Colt's demand. 

He's just happy that he can put his dick into something now. 

You feel them move around but you don't look up, your breathing harshening as you prepare for what's coming. You feelColt's familiar hands on your waist as he hooks his thumb in your panties and pulls them down. You gasp as his dick teases your pussy and Colt leans over, pressing a reassuring kiss to your shoulder blade as he praises, "You're doing so well my baby," he praises as he moves forwards and you groan, clutching the sheets. 

You're so lost in the pleasure Colt's providing that when Tom's hand holds onto your chin, his dick bobbing near your mouth, your eyes widen in surprise. You look up at him, sticking out your tongue for him and Tom smirks as places his dick in your mouth, immediately using you. 

The feeling of Colt's dick dragging in and out of your walls is tortuous but oh-so-good. Every thrust of his hips sends you further into Tom's cock and you gag, feeling so degraded and used but in the best way. 

Colt's soft praises as he fucks you mix with Tom's lewd comments as he fucks your mouth hard. If this is heaven, you never want to leave. 

After a while, you start to feel slightly lightheaded because of Tom's dick clogging your airflow. You've already come twice around Colt's dick and your pussy is feeling so overwhelmed. You hear Colt groan in the way he does when he'sclose and you clench around him, wanting to make him feel as good as you feel. 

When he finally comes, you moan too, and feel him spill inside you. At the same time, you reach for Tom's thighs and tap them, telling him to pull out. When he does, you gasp for breath.

Tom wipes his thumb across your lips, wiping the drool, and then he smirks. "I know you said no fucking, but c'mon," he says, his voice low and hoarse. "I want a piece of her too." 

Colt grunts and shakes his head, riding out his high inside you. "Fuck off, Ryder."

You moan, your body rocking back and forth from Colt's thrusts. 

"One fuck won't kill you," Tom hisses, holding your chin, "Sweetheart, you want me to fuck you, don't you?" he asks you, looking into your eyes. 

You can't help but nod, "Y-yes," you whimper, "Please," you whine, needing this. 

Colt senses the desperation in your voice and he can't exactly blame you. You must be so overwhelmed with pleasure. He strokes your neck and then pulls out. You whine at the loss. "You want him to fuck you?" he repeats, his voice strained. 

"Yes, yes, please, I need him too. Colt, please," you say, desperately. "I wanna feel him too." 

Colt knows he can't deny you anything as he nods and Tom's smug smile returns. You feel like you're stuck in a hazy cloud of pleasure as your body is manipulated. Your eyelids flutter and the next thing you feel is Tom's hard cock against your pussy as you feel yourself being lowered onto his lap. 

You whimper, falling forwards onto Tom's chest as you make small breathy sounds and his cock stretches you open even more. 

"Be gentle with her," Colt warns him, his voice slightly tense, "She's tired." 

Tom holds in a grunt, his cock twitching inside you as he fully sits you down onto his cock and then lifts you again, repeating the movement.

He presses his lips to your ear. "Just sit there like a good whore for me, okay? Daddy'll do all the work for you," he murmurs, his voice hoarse and it sends a shiver down your spine. You nod, resting your cheek against his chest and you can hear his heartbeat as he fucks up into you. 

"Good girl," he soothes, his large hand over your hair as his pace picks up. "Making me feel so fucking good."

Your legs tremble, letting out pants and whine as the core aches. It doesn't take very long for you to come around Tom's cock, your third orgasm of the night, your body feeling warm and limp as you finish. You aren't even sure how Tom still has the strength or the energy to continue moving you up and down as his hands grip your hips. He shifts you so his lips press against your ear, his grunts overwhelming your senses. 

"Hey, are you okay?" Colt asks from somewhere but you can't seem to pinpoint where, as you're too exhausted to think and your mind turns completely blank. 

Tom continues to drag you up and down his cock, his voice mocking in your ear. "We really fucked you dumb, didn't we?" he chuckles, groaning. "Shit, I'm gonna come," he bites down on your earlobe and calls you his slut as he spills himself inside you. You feel so full and dirty as his cum mixes with yours and Colt's. 

Your eyes roll and all your muscles relax. You slump forward even more, hitting your nose in the crook of his neck and making a whining sound. Tom holds you up, his touch uncharacterized gentle as his thumb strokes your cheek. He shifts you off of him, careful with you as your head hits the soft pillows. Your eyelids flutter, your chest heaving as you hear the mumbling of voices and feel the bed dip from around you. 

"She's okay, yeah?" you think it's Tom and you feel someone's fingertips on your skin. 

Another dip in the mattress. 

"Yeah, I think," Colt whispers, his voice soft and calm as he soothes you. "You're okay," he whispers and his voice eventually lulls you to sleep as the world around you turns dark. 

When you wake up again, you're tucked under the warm covers, your cheek pressed into silk pillows. You stir, blinking, and then shift onto your back. You feel clean—like someone had wiped away the cum and taken a warm cloth to your sensitive skin. You sit up halfway and look around Tom Ryder's dimly lit room and then you look down and realize you'rewearing one of Tom's shirts. 

You can hear low voices from the balcony of Tom's room and see Tom and Colt having what looks like an oddly friendly smoke for two men who seemingly hate each other. 

Tom's wearing his robe again, his blond curls still messily sprawled across his forehead, as a cigarette hangs between his lips and he lights it up.

Your boyfriend seems relaxed as he leans his forearms on the balcony and looks out into the cool night. He shifts his head and smiles like he does just after he'slaughed and you wonder what Tom had said.

"Colt?" you call out, your voice small, and immediately, both men walk back into the room—Tom's cigarette discarded on an ashtray on his balcony. 

"Hello, cupcake," Colt whispers as he stands beside you. When he sees you sitting up fully, he tuts and pushes you down a little as the mattress dips and his thigh touches yours. "Shh, how are you feeling?"

You look between them and sense no tension or arrogance from Tom as he stands at the end of the bed, a small smile curling his lips. He moves closer and sits on the other side of you, his tone light when he says, "You did so well for us." 

Colt nods, agreeing with Tom for once, and his hand finds your hair. "So well. You had fun yeah, pretty girl?"

You nod, looking between them once more as you look flustered. "Y-yeah," you admit. "It was really good."

Tom's smile widens and he sniffs. "Good," he turns to Colt, "Told ya she'd like it, man." 

You expect your boyfriend to be upset by Tom's quip, but instead, he chuckles and his thumb moves to stroke your cheek.

"Mhm, I suppose you were right, Ryder," Colt whispers and you feel like you've woken up in some alternative universe where Colt and Tom are now friends.

You wonder what they'd spoken about while you slept but whatever it was, they're on way better terms than they had ever been. Tom's much nicer to Colt on set—which isn't much but it's good because whenever you visit, he'll sometimes join you for lunch. As time goes on, you kind of feel like when Tom and Colt are around you, you have two boyfriends. 

And you can't say you dislike that. 

[xjaylyn]

Heyyy . Thank you for opening your request. How about the reader finding out Armando being on the run with Mike and Marcus, has been secretly following them to make sure they're safe (mostly mando) .

Here you go love🤭

This was too cute ahhh...I cant lie I kind of dragged it....reader stood on business bout her man😌

From the tent, y/n looked around the scene. Cops were everywhere, looking to identify the bodies of the crash. It was a mess.

"Keep tracking, y/n. See if you notice any disturbances… we need to know if there are any survivors," your advisor pats your shoulder before walking off into the crowd.

'Who hijacks a police helicopter?'

Typing away on the computer, you continue to run scans and check surveillance for anything to help the team. Hearing a truck pull in, U.S. Marshall Judy Conrad steps out of the vehicle to meet with Captain Rita and another marshal.

"You ID the bodies?"

"Roger, we got three unaccounted for… Lowrey, Burnett, and Aretas."

Stopping your motions, you look up as Judy calls out to pay attention, deeming the three as suspects on the case.

'Of course… only they can involve themselves in shit like this.'

Shaking your head, you get up from the computer and walk over to Rita, still standing where Judy left her.

"Cap."

Sighing at the girl in front of her, Rita shakes her head, putting her hands on her hips. "Not now, y/l/n… I can't afford any more close relations to the suspects," she sighs, turning around.

"Captain, come on. Suspects? You really believe they would do some dumb shit like this?" you ask, putting your arms up with your brow raised.

"Y/n, I-" she stumbles over her words, staring at you with a solemn look on her face.

"I-my job isn't set on what I believe personally… it's set on facts, and the fact is Mike, Marcus, and Armando are on the run for something, and right now, evidence says they are the ones to kill the pilo-"

Rolling your eyes, you look at Rita one more time before walking away back to your station.

"I can't believe this shit."

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

Pacing back and forth in your living room, you've been, illegally, using surveillance of nearby cameras surrounding the crime scene all night trying to locate the boys.

Knowing everyone in the field is dead set on them being suspects, you decided to use your own skills to find them without notifying anyone. It wasn't to involve yourself in the situation but more so to make sure everyone was okay. Falling 10,000 feet in the air in a helicopter crash, someone was bound to be hurt, right? And it's not like anyone could check into a hospital to get treated because then they would risk getting caught, and it's just too much to think about.

Hearing a beep come from your computer, you quickly make your way to your couch and set the device on your lap, eagerly looking at the screen for what popped up.

"The Pony?" you mumble, confused at the location the boys found themselves.

"After all this, they go to a nightclub," you scoff, watching them walk into the building. Looking ridiculous, might you add. Closing your laptop, you quickly run into your room to change.

Stumbling to put on your jeans, you hear a small meow come from your bed. Looking over at your cat watching you rush, tilts their head at your actions, meowing again.

"Don't worry, mommy is going to get daddy and smack grandpa across his head for dragging him into some bullshit," you smile, running your hand across her fur, earning another meow.

"Sorry, bad language, dragging him into a mess," you say before grabbing your keys off Armando's end table.

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

Pulling into the lot, you watch as police and ambulances surround the area. Looking around, you notice a car in flames and some men getting taken into custody.

"What the fuck…" you mumble in awe.

Noticing Judy and a team behind her, you quickly turn off the car and duck down to avoid being noticed.

"They escaped, make sure you cover all ends of the road. They can't be too far," you hear her yell out to the crew.

Looking up, you check for any traffic cameras. Noticing one in the alleyway, you grab your laptop from the front seat and hack into it. Watching them run off before the footage cuts off, you look up at the direction they ran to. Noticing the docks are that way, you think of one place they would think to go.

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

Hearing a knock on the door, everyone looks up, then looks at each other.

"You expecting company?" Marcus asks, looking at Dorn, who has a confused look on his face.

"No… no one comes by here," he says, slowly getting up.

Kelly gets up, grabbing her gun, and slowly signals to Dorn to open the door. Everyone else stands clear and defensively just in case they get attacked.

Grabbing the knob, as soon as Dorn turns it, the person on the other side busts through, causing Kelly to aim her gun.

"Whoa, whoa, it's me!" you scream out, putting your hands up.

"Jesus Christ, y/n, don't do that," Kelly sighs in relief, placing her gun on the table.

"Y/n?" Armando says, noticing your figure from the doorway.

Turning around, you look over at Armando, still dressed in the hideous Bud Light shirt that he somehow manages to pull off… actually, he pulls it off really well, but forget that, that's not important right now. Glaring at him, you make your way to the desk he was leaning on.

"Are you dumb or are you dumb?" you ridicule.

"What?" he asks, scrunching his face.

Rolling your eyes, you hug him in relief, prompting him to wrap his strong arms around you without any hesitation.

"As long as you're okay," you sigh, leaning into his embrace. It's been so long since you were able to last hold him, let alone touch him, so the bashing could wait.

Pulling back, you bring your hands to his face and look him up and down to check for any injuries.

"I'm okay, mi amor," he says softly, looking down at you analyzing him. He squeezes your hands holding his face.

"Jesus, did you catch on fire or something? What happened to your pants?" you ask, looking down, noticing some burnt pieces on his jeans.

"Should've seen it, your man was el fuego," Marcus laughs, causing you to quickly turn your head towards him and glare at him.

"Why would you say that?" you hear Armando say behind you.

Making your way over to Marcus, you slap him across the head, making him step back and draw his hand up to his head to soothe the ache caused by your hand.

"Owww, what you do that for?"

Hearing Mike try to stifle his laugh, you quickly smack him across the back of his head too, causing him to straighten up in his seat and look at you, holding his head.

"That's for involving my man in your bullshit, Mike."

Hearing Armando chuckle, you look back over at him and cross your arms.

"I don't know what you're laughing for? I'm not done with you," you say, raising your brow.

"amor..."

A/N: They better stop playing with readers man🙂‍↕️… he gotta come home safe without a scratch, or there's going to be problems...

[unreliablesnake]

Thunderstorm (Simon Riley x f!reader)

Summary: Simon spoils his daughter and he’s always there when she needs him–even if it’s because of a little thunderstorm.

Note: MW3 is coming, I’ll be back on my bullshit. / If you want to know when I post new stuff, follow @unreliablesnakefics.

“Daddy, please.”

That was it. Simon was usually defeated by these two words that his four-year-old used every time she wanted something. After all, he was his little princess, the sweet child who often fell asleep on the couch next to him in the evening, the one who held tea parties for her toys and him every now and then.

Since he wasn’t home that much, and since he never knew when his luck would run out on the field, he treated every second with her as if it was the last time he saw her. You knew perfectly well that’s why he always spoiled her, why she quickly became daddy’s little girl, so you never said anything to stop him. They needed to bond so she would have good memories of him, and you didn’t want to take it away from them.

“One day you’ll have to stop letting her get away with everything, you know,” you told him one evening after he came back from his daughter’s room following a fight about bedtime that was over an hour ago. “We need to set certain rules.”

“I know, I know.” Simon took his place in bed next to you, an arm wrapping around your shoulder to pull you closer. “It’s just so hard to say no. I swear I’m trying.”

You looked up at him and before you knew it, his lips captured yours in a sensual kiss that aimed to make you forget about what he had just done. But you knew better than to fall into his trap, so you pulled away with a delicate smile and gave him an understanding look.

“I know that, Simon, but we need to be partners in this. It must be nice to be the good cop, but she’ll become a little monster if we let her do anything she wants.”

After taking a deep breath, Simon nodded. “You’re right. It’s just so tough to be strict when I’m away this much,” he admitted before placing a soft kiss on your temple. “By the way, did you hear that?” You gave him a confused look so he went on almost immediately. “A thunderstorm. It’s coming this way.”

Finally it made sense to you because you let out a sigh and said, “She’ll run in crying anyway. Go get her.”

He got out of bed, but instead of leaving the room, he just put his hands on his hips and asked, “You sure? I will be the good cop again.”

“Go.”

“I love you.”

“I love you too.”

His daughter was terrified of thunderstorms. She had been like that since the beginning, always crying when lightning struck nearby, instinctively calling for her mommy and daddy when she was scared, or running into their bedroom right after the sound reached her. He knew she would grow out of this eventually, but until then he wouldn’t want her to stay in her room alone.

Those nights when she slept in their bed between them were his favorites. Sure, he loved to be alone with you too; to explore your body over and over again, drawing out those sweet moans and whines from you, and seeing you fall apart for him. But being together as a family, having his favorite girls so close to him was still better.

Simon liked to think of himself as a good father and husband. He broke the cycle, he became a better man than his father had ever been, and every day he spent home with you two was filled with actions that spoke louder than words. He wanted the both of you to know, to feel that he loved you more than anything in this world.

When he reached his daughter’s room and peeked inside, he noticed that she was sleeping peacefully under the warm blanket. For a moment he wondered if he should just leave her be for now, but then he heard the storm outside and realized you had been right and this was for the best. So he picked her up carefully and walked back to the master bedroom, laying the little girl on the middle of the bed next to you.

“Thank you,” you told him quietly.

Shaking his head, Simon leaned over to give you a quick kiss. “Anytime, love.”

You flashed a wide smile at him, but before you could say anything, your daughter turned on her side and cuddled up to you with her small arm wrapped around your waist. Simon was a little jealous, but he kept this to himself for now. Sooner or later she would wake up and cuddle up to him instead as she usually did.

[just-some-random-blogger]

Accidental Targ

Scene III: i told you to hold my hand! | Masterlist

Daemon Targaryen x Modern!Reader

Summary: After coming to terms with the fact you were in King's Landing some two thousand years before your birth, you get reunited with your friend and try to manifest your way back to the present. For the meantime, Harwin Strong is your bodyguard.

Word Count: 4k+

Warnings: fem!reader, time travel au, descriptions of reader's hair, incestuous gremlin!daemon, very sus and innappropriate boss-employee dynamics, low key sugar daddy!otto hightower vibes, crackfic, typos, etc.

A/N: GUYS I DID IT. I FINISHED IT 😫 Also, its come to my attention that perhaps the way i planned out everything geographically is ??? bad but no its not just roll with it AND!! remember yall voted for him ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ i have a feeling you didnt read the prompt fully but whatever HAHAHAA i honestly have no idea where i meant to take this fic, so ???? enjoy?? HAHHAAH

Shoot me if I ever say it again, but for now: gods bless capitalism, specifically for it desecrating a national landmark.

Where once I was one of the people who protested against the building of the High Garden Centre, girl, was I thankful that the old ruins of the fucking Red Keep laid there as a little ol' artsy featurette.

"What's that sound?" Daemon asks as we stand from our spot.

I turn to my side, never before so relieved to hear and see, no more than two blocks away, a rave spilling out of a club, the very one Libby and I were at before we got into this shit show. "That, my prince, is called EDM."

I hurriedly run to Libby's side to pick her up, but Daemon does that himself. He get down and pulls the blue haired woman on his back, and I help him. At the same time, I feel a buzz from my satchel.

My phone!

Daemon watches me as I frantically claw for my device. The amount of texts and call notifications that pop up on my screen is overwhelming. I decide to just let it go off and grab Daemon's arm, "come on."

We walk down from the ruins, shifting through the shrubs and foliage around it. I catch the sight a mall cop and feel agitated when he looks over. He couldn't care less though, the site was open to the public after all, and with a literal club being right there, we were the least of his worries.

We pass the rusty chain fence surrounding it, and draw near Harrenhal (the club). Once we're there, a bunch of men hoot and holler at me. I ignore them as they say something about my 'Targaryen' hair and it dawns on me they were probably calling me princess and lady because I was still in a fucking Targaryen era dress.

Still, I ignore the stupid fucks as they ask to see my pretty skirt, opting to walk faster instead. I was horrified by how loud and violent Daemon's scream was.

He shouted so gutturally that I couldn't understand a lick of The High Valyrian flaming out of his mouth. The vein on his neck popped out and I literally had to hold him back from charging and dropping Libby.

"Daemon, please!" I whimper, heart racing, "Libby's still on you-"

"Grab her and I'll fucking ram steel down- COME OVER HERE AND SAY THAT AGAIN. SAY THAT-"

Steel? I look to his belt. Fucking seven hells, he brought Dark Sister?

I look back at him with wide eyes, feeling nauseous now that I've caught how maddened he looked.

In a panic, I gently pat his face while pulling his arm back, "Daemon, please."

He doesn't look at me.

My voice gets softer and my eyes water, "Daemon, I beg you."

He huffs and clenches his jaw, still not sparing me a glance.

"We don't have time for them," I whisper and keep my hand on his cheek, "I'm just going to connect to the club's wifi from here, then I'll can call us an Ubor."

Daemon does not tear his gaze from the men, who eventually waddle away to whatever sewer they came from, still hollering bullshit as they did.

"Kesan daor nārhēdegon naejot nyetodha aōha irosh," Daemon mutters. I will not forget to slit your throats.

The relief that washed over me was unparalleled when I booked an Ubor set to arrive in 3 minutes. I whimper and rub my eyes, "okay, not long now."

Daemon finally looks at me, still visibly pissed, and adjusts Libby on his back.

I wipe my face, "we're just going to get in the c-" Fuck... I should probably prepare him for the car.

"Okay," I raise my hands, "we're going to get in a metal..." I motion to the space, "... there's going to be a- a- carriage? But with no horse... but and when I get in, you just get in with me, okay?"

Daemon's expression is now one of confusion.

I sigh and place a hand on his shoulder, "it's going to be okay."

His lips curl, "... OK."

I screw my eyes shut and shake my head rapidly, "I mean alright. Alright! ALRIGHT!"

Daemon takes in my visible frustration and nods slowly, "OK."

To be honest, Daemon was a pretty good Ubor passenger, save for the fact his sword nearly cut me, Libby, him and the fucking car seats when he tried to sit without removing his scabbard first. We were lucky the driver seemed to be used to... ren fair people.

He also seemed to be used to driving people to the ER. I was too relieved to think realize how fucked up that kinda is in the moment. Needless to say, I gave him 5 stars and an extra tip.

With Dark Sister in my grip and Libby in Daemon's arms, we finally made it to Lannister Medical Center.

The moment we get there, I run inside the ER and break down at the first nurse I see. I infodump everything, how Libby got attacked, how Harwin lost her, how some maesters tried to help us, how she lost a lot of blood, how I'm afraid she's going to die, how Daemon ended up carrying her, and I just keep going up until I saw Libby's blue hair scattered on a stretcher and the nurse told me to sit down.

I didn't have much fight in me left to argue, so I sit myself down on the bench. But then I see the nurse speaking to Daemon, who, seemed to be explaining what had happened, and I panic all over again.

Before I could stand though, another nurse was there to accommodate me. He did a checkup on me, asked me how I was feeling, and asked if I needed anything to calm down.

I told him I was fine and proceeded to answer his other questions. Daemon eventually came to my side and eyed him.

The nurse gives me a nod and offers a smile, "you seem to be physically well. Just let yourself relax. The doctors have your friend; they'll do their best to help her."

"Thank you."

The nurse nods again. He gives me and Daemon one last look before walking off.

I grab Daemon's hand once it's just the two of us. I look up and shudder, "we did it."

He looks down at me, violet eyes solemn. He brings a hand to my cheek and swipes at my cheek, "ȳdra daor limagon."

"I don't know what that means," I mumble.

"I said don't cry, pretty girl," he kneels in front of me, "worrying will not save your friend."

I stare at him, feeling my heart race and belly roll because of the look he had. He brushes my silver hair back behind my shoulders, only intensifying the flurry in my stomach. Just as I opened my mouth to speak, suddenly, my stomach growls. Oh.

Daemon turns his eyes to my belly as I clutch it.

"You want something to eat... prince?"

Daemon reaches a hand out, "lead the way."

I take his hand, grab Dark Sister, and hand it to him. He fastens his scabbard as we exit the ER and I go through my satchel, fishing for my wallet. Just before I get it, I remember that I blew most of my money on the Ubor.

"Fuck," I curse and turn to Daemon, "I don't have enough money."

Daemon rests his hand on his sword and simply stairs.

"I don't have coin," I clarify. I look around the road and figure our chances of riding a bus at this hour was nonexistent. I give him a look, "do you mind walking home with me?"

Daemon raises a brow, "as opposed to swimming home with you?"

I raise my brows and sigh, "Daemon-"

"Lead the way," he nods and points, "I am not one to tire easily."

I nod and slice through air to drive a point, "okay. No matter what happens," I reach out to him, "you have to hold my hand, okay?"

He looks at my hand then my face, his violet eyes sparkle with amusement. He chuckles but he links his fingers between mine (overkill if you ask me). I'm glad goosebumps don't form.

Daemon smiles softly, "you take me for a child, riña?"

"This child knows how to cross the street," I squeeze his hand harder than necessary and begin to walk off, "I'm not sure you do, kekepa." Grandfather.

Daemon laughs, full-on throwing his head back, "how hard is it to cross? You jus-"

His words go dry when an empty school bus passes us. He was so stunned by the yellow contraption, I had to tug his arm to continue walking.

Just then, a Megatron looking-ass truck drives down the street. I hiss and curse the 14 wheeler for emitting such horrible smoke, eyeing it as it drives away.

Meanwhile, I catch the prince's stunned reaction and almost feel bad for finding it funny. Almost.

We arrive at my apartment about 20 minutes later.

I press the elevator button and turn to Daemon, "don't put your arm between the door, okay?"

Daemon gives me a look.

The elevator opens and we step inside. Daemon gives me a look, "we have lifts you know."

I pull my head back, "you do?"

"At the wall," Daemon retorts as the elevator door closes.

"The wall?" I think for a moment, "ahh. You're right."

A beat.

I knit my brows, "wait, you've been to the wall?"

"Of course I've been to the wall."

The moment we get to my place, relief washes over me. I take my shoes off and scoop my hair in front, "fucking rip this dress off me."

Without a single thought between his brows, Daemon's reaches out to undo the ties at the back of my dress.

Just before he does this, I hear him walk in with his boots and nearly have a heart attack when he passes my threshold.

"OH, ABSOLUTELY NOT!" I turn and shove him back, "take your crusty boots off now!"

Daemon looks at me in bewilderment but walks back and doesn't protest as he removes his shoes. He places his shoes on the rack along with mine.

Not wasting time, he catches my arm and yanks me towards him. He spins me around and immediately undoes the back of my dress. I hastily begin to tug my dress down once I can.

He chuckles, "eager girl."

I rather literally jump out of my dress when I can. Pent-up rage overcomes me. I turn around and start kicking the dress away, releasing all my frustration and anger out on the thing. I curse 8th century Westeros and the Red Keep in particular and assault the object until I'm out of breath.

I proceed to jump onto my sofa and allow exhaustion to finally take over my being.

A second later, I catch Daemon's expression and realize, he probably thought he was going to get lucky when I asked him to basically strip me naked.

"Ahh," I get back on my feet, "sorry about," I point to the dress, "that."

Daemon says nothing as he steps closer. He reaches out for my hip and I swat his hand away. I shake my head, "this is my house."

He chuckles as I evade him on my way to the kitchen, which was not nearly as far as it should have been. The prince eyes the space, "yes. An impressive little room you've got." He follows after me, "I'd love to see the rest of it."

I look at him as I reach my fridge and open the door.

Daemon squints at the light that radiates on me. I cuss at the fact I only had cereal (no milk) and some vegetables that have gone bad. I grab the paper box and hand it to him. He blankly stares at it as I discard the vegetables.

Daemon's brows contort at he box, "it's cold."

I wash my hands, "yeah, refrigerators do that."

"Gra'-nola," he reads.

"Granola," I correct as I dry my hands on my shift.

I'm suddenly struck with the realization his grubby has have never seen antibacterial soap. I snatch the box from him and motion to the sink, "wash your hands."

Daemon turns to the sink and purses his lips.

For a second, I debate if he'd melt if he uses something antiseptic, but then figure I should still take my chances.

I prop the cereal on the counter and exemplify him how to wash his hands. Daemon, with slight reluctance, pumps some hand wash on his palm, opens the sink, and rinses.

I excitedly applaud him once he was done.

"A hand towel," he raises his dripping hands.

I look around even though I didn't have a hand towel. I shrug, "I usually just use my pants."

Daemon shakes his hands by the sink, "your pants?"

"Yeah. They're like clothes that you put on your-"

He grabs my shift and pulls me closer. He wipes his hands on it, "I know what pants are, princess."

I push him off and smirks as he dodges. I make a face, "well, I do so beg your pardon, your majesty."

The prince lets out a low laugh, "don't get too brazen, or I'll have you begging till you weep."

I quickly change the subject, "get that damned sword off your hip." I shoo him and rummage through my kitchen cabinets.

Daemon watches this and chuckles again. He tilts his head as he eyes my legs. He undoes his scabbard, sets it on my dining table, and pulls out a chair. He sits down just as I find a can of Sbam. Huzzah!

I grab a chopping board and open the can. A small smile spreads on the prince's lips as stares. But then, his expression drops when I shake, or try to shake, the processed meat out of the can.

I huff once I've succeeded, and I begin to cut the Sbam chunk, "you know this was in created during the war," I slice a piece, "it saved a lot of people from starvation."

"Which war?"

I freeze when he says this. I open my mouth then close it, unsure if recounting the details of world wars to him was a good idea, "you know what, never mind that."

Once I was done with the Sbam, I got a pan and heat it up. I get a plate and a loaf of bread, then place it on the table.

I click my tongue at the sight of his sword, "off the table!"

Daemon watches as I take Dark Sister and replace it with the plate and bread. I place the sword by the shoes and he takes the plastic wrapped bread. He feels the material and opens it, "what is this?"

"Bread," I retort, going back to my pan.

"No, I know that, but what's it wrapped with?"

I give him a quick look, "oh, plastic," I begin to cook the Sbam, "it's made of carbon... I think- I dunno- don't quote me on that."

Daemon opens the bag and takes a slice of bread. He pulls his had back, "it's sliced."

I beam and jump excitedly, "it is! It's sliced bread! Betty White is older than sliced bread! And so are you!"

Daemon ignores this as he sniffs the piece in his hand. He takes a bite then and makes a face, "why does it taste like that?"

"Like what?"

His brows knit and his eyes narrow, "like a pretender."

I burst into a laugh. I flip over the Sbam with a spatula, "imitation bread?"

"It wants so earnest to be bread," he pushes the loaf away and shakes his head, "but it clearly isn't."

I laugh even harder.

He snorts at my reaction. He smiles as leans back on his chair. A few moments later, he grows serious, "you ought to dismiss your royal baker."

Oh. My lips twitch and I chuckle under my breath, "ah, yes. My royal baker. Yes, I will dismiss my royal baker for making horrible sliced bread. Yes."

The Sbam was now cooked. I present it to him on a plate, "bon app-- ... I hope you like it."

Daemon leans forward to scrutinize the dish.

I press my lips into a line as I sit down next to him. I take a slice of imitation bread and fold in a slice of Sbam. I realize just how hungry I was after taking a bite. Through half-full mouth, I mutter, "it's good."

Daemon watches me and follows suit. He takes some bread and Sbam, then chomps.

I stop chewing. Wait, what if he gets an instant heart attack because his living fossil-self can't handle processed food?

He licks his lips and chews. I begin to grow more agitated as he makes a face.

"It's delicious," Daemon says, going in for another bite.

My agitation turns into shock, "really?!"

"Well, it's no roasted pork, but it'll suffice," he mutter between chews.

I let out a soft laugh and nod, "I'm glad it's enough for the prince."

"I'm honored the princess herself made it for me."

Aw, fuck. Who's gonna tell him?

There is a knock on my door. At the same time, my phone rings.

Daemon is alerted by the sound and I dash away to finally answer my phone.

"What is that?" the prince asks.

"It's my phone. Remember? You can call people with it."

Daemon narrows his eyes as I rummage my bag for my device. The knocking on the door gets louder.

I turn to the door, "just a minute."

I find my phone and feel my stomach drop at the caller ID. The banging on the door persists.

I answer the phone and head for the door, "hello?"

"Fucking hells!" the voice is worn and apparently worried, "where the fuck have you bee-"

"It's not you outside, is it?" I cut him off as I head for the door.

"What?! No! I'm in the fucking North, dammit! Your friends have been calling me nonstop, since fucking Sunday! -"

I open the door and my face falls. Standing before me is a man in a dark teal suit; his tie was loose, his stubble was thick, and he held what looked like a dozen bags in his hands.

"- You and Libby have been fucking missing for days! Where-"

"Mr. Hightower," I lower my phone as the man on the other end continues to chastise me.

Otto Hightower looks me up and down, then sighs, "out of the way."

Without another thought, I step back to let him in. He expertly slips out of his leather shoes then heads towards my sofa. He places all the bags on the coffee table. I follow after him.

I hear my name being shouted from my phone. I close the door and follow after Otto.

I listen in on the call again and I hiss when the voice pierces my ear drum, "Jon, calm down."

"CALM DOWN!? HOW CAN I BE CALM WHEN YOU WON'T TELL ME ANYTHING!?"

I begin to panic when Daemon walks over.

"Who is that?" Otto asks me. He notices Daemon, then makes a face, "who are you?"

I look at Otto, then Daemon, and dash over to the prince, grabbing his hand. I watch in real time the recognition and disbelief that floods the Targaryen's features as he watches the other slowly remove his tie.

"Libby and I got stuck in the ren-fair!" I reply to my phone.

"WHY DIDN'T YOU FUCKING CALL?!"

"MY PHONE DIED, JON!" I shout back a lie.

Otto's brow raises. He looks at me and mouths, "Jon?"

I ignore that and groan "LOOK! I'm fine! Libby's-- ... Libby's," I whisper softly, "in the ER-"

"THE ER-"

"I'M TAKING CARE OF HER!"

"WHY THE FUCK IS SHE IN THE ER?!"

"Libby's in the ER?" Otto mutters.

I raise a finger to answer my phone, "Jon, please. I'll explain everything tomorrow."

He screams my name and I have to rip my phone away from my ear again. I vaguely hear him rant about how I should explain why his sister is in the fucking ER.

"Jon, Jon, I love you but I have to go," I quip and immediately end the call. I turn on airplane mode and throw my phone on to the couch.

I release a breath and find myself pulling a smile as the man in the suit eyes me. He's about to speak, but Daemon beats him to it.

"What was that?" the prince asks, pulling me by the arm to face him.

I turn to him and make a face. It's Otto that answers for me, "her ex boyfriend."

I turn to Otto as he tilts his head and raises a brow, as if daring me to correct him.

I do, "my best friend's brother."

Daemon eyes Otto; the latter makes a face, "who used to your lover," he crosses his arms, "I'm offended you take his calls but not mine."

"And who are you?" Daemon hisses, stepping towards him.

Without missing a beat, Otto meets his gaze and scoffs, "who are you?"

Daemon's pulls his chin back and chuckles dryly. His expression screamed FUCK AROUND AND FIND OUT.

I jump in front of him, my back presses his chest. I give a nervous laugh, "Mr. High- Director- Mr. Director- sir. This is Daemon."

Otto watches as I grip Daemon's hands behind me.

"And Daemon," I barely look at him over my shoulder, "this is... my... employe-"

"Otto Hightower," he cuts me off, bringing his hand into his breast pocket, "Director and CFO of King's Landing Holdings."

I wince, fuck.

"King's Landing?!" Daemon laughs out loud.

Otto produces a business card.

"It's a company!" I turn around and wave my hands, "it's a company! An establishment!"

Daemon does not tear his eyes away from him.

"He's my employer!" I explain.

Otto offers a piece of paper between his fingers.

The prince looks at it and slightly pushes me away, "what's he doing here then?"

"That's hardly any of your business," Otto retorts, tucking his business card back into his pocket.

Daemon laughs and finally turns to me. He mutters something in High Valyrian along the lines of 'let me do something' and 'stabbing'. I frantically shake my hand and push him back.

He thankfully relents and I sit him back down on my dining table.

My relief is fleeting when I realize the only reason Daemon didn't refute was because Otto was trailing right after me. My stomach drops when I feel a hand on my back.

Otto is right behind me. He places a few of the paper bags he brought on the table. He opens them, "I bought you dinner."

I turn to him, intent to tell him he shouldn't have.

"Amongst other things," he adds.

Daemon barks, "we have dinner."

"How did you even know I was home?" I say at the same time.

Otto's eyes flick to him, to the plate of Sbam on the table. His face is blank as looks back to me. He decides to remove his coat jacket, "I suppose you'd-" eyes Daemon, "-also think a candle equal to a campfire."

"Mister Hightower," I helplessly mutter.

He hangs his jacket on the backrest. He turns to me, "and you were missing--"

My expression sours.

"-- what did you expect me to do? I obviously utilized my connections. I'm offended you'd ask me such a thing."

Daemon mutters something in High Valyrian again.

"Of course, I had come see you myself," he looks at me through his lashes as rolls up his sleeves. My eyes dart to his sleeve tattoos and arm veins. When I begin to scrutinize the hairs on his skin, I realize I've stared to long.

In a panicked frenzy, I begin to unpack one of the paper bags. He, himself, brings out a stack of food containers and places them on the table.

The smell alone makes my stomach grumble.

Otto steps away and comes back with plates and cutlery. He places one plate in front of me, and has a prolonged stare at Daemon before placing the other in front of Daemon. He says, "I would hate for prince Daemon to be reduced to eating Sbam for dinner."

My expression drops. Daemon does not move an inch.

Otto turns to me and pulls out the chair. I take a moment before sitting down, because, really, did I have any other choice?

Otto opens the containers one by one and my mouth waters as I see lobster, lamb, and lemon cakes. He serves me meat and veggies, "I would assume you're not hurt like your friend."

I watch as he places food on my plate. I gulp before responding, "I'm just... tired."

"Then, I would also assume you'll not be attending work tomorrow," he takes my hand, putting the utensils in them. He scrapes a chair to my side and sits down next to me, urging me to eat with a motion.

I look at Mr. Hightower, "oh no- I will! I will-"

"You won't," he raises a hand, "see to it you're well rested."

I turn to my plate, feeling a flurry in my stomach over his words.

"Are you not going to serve your prince?" Daemon cuts in, raising his brows.

The lamb I was about to eat drops back to my plate.

The two glare, as if willing the other to spontaneously combust.

Before anything else could happen, I stand and reach out to Daemon's plate. I squeak when both grab me by the wrist.

My throat tightens.

My heart races when Daemon stands, "release her."

Otto raises his brows and tilts his head, "sit back down."

I rip my wrists out of their grips. Thankfully, neither put up a fight.

They stare at each other for what felt like ages. My agitation rockets when I see my boss begin to fidget with his hands the way he did when he was annoyed and ready to do something drastic.

I give Daemon a panicked look and grab his wrist, "kostilus." Please.

Daemon clenches his fist.

I continue to beg him until he sits.

I squeak when he grabs my chair by the seat and pulls me towards him. He mutters, "kesan daor emagon ao va bona run." I will not have you near that thing.

I turn to Director Hightower; I could see his annoyance building.

Fuck.

"Miste-" "Enjoy your meal then," he speaks as he stands. He grabs his coat and points, "I've bought some first aid things. I'm sure your friend can help you put that away."

I move to stand but Daemon stops me. He looks up at Otto in disgust, "do mind the steel contraptions on your way out."

I snap at Daemon, eyeing him hotly. He places a hand over my legs, ensuring I do not evade him. I watch as Mr. Hightower heads for the door, and in a split second decision, I turn to the prince and kiss him on the lips.

He is evidently taken aback, but it only takes him another second to get into it. Once he's put his guard down, I rip away from him and chase after my boss just as he exits my apartment.

"MR. HIGHTOWER!"

Otto turns around. I huff as I meet him just outside my door, "I'm really sorry about him. He's... he's just like that."

"You're not responsible for the actions of others," he retorts, nonchalant.

"I know. But still-"

"You are responsible for the company you keep," he adds.

I brush my silver hair back, "and you're not responsible for my well-being."

He snorts and shakes his head, "I'm your superior."

I press my lips into a thin line, deciding not to get into this conversation right now, "that, you are, Director."

We stare at each other for a moment. I examine his well-ironed suit, noticing how he didn't bother to fix his tie or buttons any more.

"I'll-"

"Is he not-" Daemon kicks the door open.

My eyes widen, "DAEMON-"

"-fucking gone yet?!" he points Dark Sister in an offensive stance. I yelp when he swings his weapon and scratches the door.

Otto's fight or flight instincts kick in and he takes flight down the hall.

"DAEMON-" I scream. I duck down and grab him by the torso, "STOP IT!"

Daemon screams out in High Valyrian. He laughs and lowers his sword, "yeah, you better run."

[nelkcats]

Darling Boy

"The monster's gone, he is on the run and your Daddy is here" Croc sing to the boy in his arms "Beautiful, Beautiful, Beautiful boy"

"You are not a monster, Dad" Danny said sadly "I know all of the people here told you so, but it is not true"

"Close your eyes, have no fear" Killer Croc continued singing

"That's not how the letter goes" Danny frown, only days ago he discovered he was "rescued" by the Fentons, who called Waylon (His Dad, he was his Dad) a monster (They called him a Monster too, why why why); Many years ago they were in a convention on Gotham and after seeing him and his dad walking on the streets they considered his biological father a monster, they stole him because they saw his "humanity" and wanted to "save him" (They stole that humanity too, THEY KILLED HIM, WHY)

"Before you cross the street, take my hand" Waylon couldn't stop singing, if he stopped he would realize this was all a dream, his boy would be out of his hands again (Like those scientists who keep screaming and pointing him with guns, stealing his kid, calling him uncapable of taking care of a human baby, screaming about him being a monster trying to kill his baby, but the cops arrested him and not them WHY WHY WHY)

"Dad please, look at me" Danny was going to cry (This was his father, his real father who just discovered cause his "adoptive" parents didn't have his papers) "please look at me, I am here"

"I can hardly wait" Waylon feeled the tears leaving his eyes, he hugged the kid closer, waiting for him to disappear "to see you come of age" he lost so many years (They stole his baby, They stole his baby, THEY STOLE HIS BABY, WHY IS NOBODY STOPPING THEM, PLEASE HELP)

"Papa, please" the halfa started crying, this was a mess, even if he didn't inherited the meta gen from Waylon ¿how could he tell his father he was half dead? That people see him like a monster? The only thing his Papa didn't want for him? (They stole him, they killed him, they called his Papa a monster, they called HIM a monster and now, ¿will he be able to broke his Papa heart again? ¿To tell him the truth?) "Please, I am here"

"Beautiful, Beautiful, Beautiful boy" Waylon whispered the last part "See you in the morning" he opened his eyes but his kid was still there (His baby was back, his baby was back, justice didn't work BUT HIS BABY WAS BACK)

"I'm here Papa, and I will not leave this time" the halfa snuggled into his father's arms, finally feeling safe, protected (Finally at home)

On the other side of the street, the bats looked at "Killer Croc" (That was not his name, Waylon Jones was good before justice failed him, was it their fault?) crying and hugging a child tightly, but without hurting him, it seemed that he was hiding him from the world (Could anyone blame him?) and they could not bring themselves to interfere

[trueangel420]

Colin zabel , fem reader, he’s arresting you (rightfully so!) little tiny imagine wc 2093 (not proof read)

“I'm a detective. What do you mean I have to…”He coughed, his annoyance unmistakable. You sat on the curb, the cuffs heavy on your wrists. You let out a huff, the alcohol making you dizzy. “I'm a detective, Mare,” he repeated into the phone. Colin was usually calm, always the good cop who could control his nerves. But after being assigned to petty calls, his frustration was at an all-time high. “Come on,” he said, gently grabbing your arm and leading you to the back of his car. You followed him, your gaze shamelessly tracing the outline of his button up shirt, eyelids drooping. He placed you gently in the back seat, careful to ensure you didn't hit your head. You stumbled a bit, shuffling around and holding your temples.

“Head spinning?” Colin chuckled, trying to lift her spirits or at least make her headache feel less terrible. “Yeah, I can imagine. I'd probably puke if I drank as much as you did—that's a ton of tequila. Just try to relax.” He started the car.

You didn't know how you ended up in this situation. One minute, you were at the bar, throwing back drinks and dancing with random strangers, and now here you are, cuffed, confused, and sick to your stomach. You wore a black tube dress and Prada heels, courtesy of her daddy's money. You were the kind of girl who had never been in cuffs in your life. Back in the city, your dad was well known—anything you did was right, even when the law said it was wrong. You leaned your head against the window, stomach churning. You were only here for the summer; you'd never stay in this small, quiet town by choice.

“Your parents must be worried... what's a girl like you doing in a place like that?” Colin asked, his hands gripping the steering wheel, eyes focused on you in the rearview mirror. your legs started shaking at the thought of spending a night in a cell. Colin glanced down at your trembling body, trying to think of something soothing to say.

“Everything will be just fine,” he said softly, his tone comforting. “You're just in a bit of trouble, but it'll be sorted out soon. Take a couple of deep breaths, and try to focus on somethin’ else instead of being cuffed inside a police car.” He focused on the road again.

“I don't feel good,” you murmured, your cuffed hands fiddling with your dress. He glanced back, noticing how your eyes glazed over.

“Whoa, are you gonna puke, kid?” he asked, worry evident in his voice. “Not in the back of my car—” He quickly pulled the car to the side of the road, rubbing his forehead as he unbuckled his seatbelt. In one swift motion, he was at the back door, opening it and looking down at you. “I'm gonna put you in the front, okay?” you gave him a simple nod, the sickness creeping up your throat. You tried to hold it down with deep breaths.

He got you to the side, gently helping you into the front seat and buckling you up. “Don't go pulling anything,” he joked with a hint of worry. He was so used to party girls trying to bolt from the car that he assumed the same from you, even in your sick condition.

“Oh, trust me, officer, I'm not,” you replied softly, leaning back into the seat as the nausea began to calm. His eyes widened at the softness of your voice; he hadn't expected you to even speak. He walked back to the front, got in his seat, and started the car, letting out a breath he hadn't even realized he was holding in. He sighed wearily as they pulled towards the station, noticing it was slightly empty with only one or two officers in the front. “Hey, it's Colin—what are you doing out here? It's one am,” the male officer yelled as Colin parked.

“Can you uncuff me?” you asked, your tone tired and annoyed. Colin's expression shifted from one of weariness to amusement at your request. “And let you bolt while we're walking in?” He raised an eyebrow, a wry smile pulling at the corners of his lips.

“How about this? I'll keep your wrists nice and loose. But we're walking with a little bit of police officer-suspect dignity, alright? No sprintin'. And no kickin' my ass. Deal?” You rolled your eyes.

“I knew we'd come to an agreement.” Colin grinned, a chuckle escaping his lips. He reached for the keys and unfastened the handcuffs, gently loosening them around your wrist. His touch was surprisingly delicate, fingers grazing against the smooth skin, leaving goosebumps in their wake.

“Yeah, just doing a few rounds... Mare asked me,” he replied to the officers outside, coughing slightly as he unbuckled himself and then you. You were a bit more sober now, mind clearing up as he walked you both into the station. He brought you to a seat.

“I don't think we'll do fingerprints and pictures if this is your first offense,” he started as you sat in the old wooden chair. He shifted around, grabbing keys and opening the cell. “You get a phone call,” he said softly. You nodded as he handed you the phone from the desk. You tapped the buttons, calling your dad.

“Hi... yes, I got arrested for, um…” You looked up at Colin as his eyes narrowed in a furrow. “Public intoxication and starting a bar fight. You threw a drink at one of the bartenders,... and missed” he said sternly, his eyes trained on you as you rolled your eyes. “Yeah, for that... okay, see you,” you finished, fiddling with the loose cuffs on your wrists.

“Do I really have to stay in here” you asked, eyes closing as you sighed at your situation—this could go on record if he wanted it to. You walked to the cell, letting out another frustrated breath as you hooked your hands on the cold bars. “Gross…” you said under your breath, looking around the cell. He closed it and locked it. “If I'm in here, can you at least give me a blanket?” you groaned.

He thought for a moment, glancing at your small pout—you were seriously asking as if he was going to say yes. “Please,” you tried to convince. His expression turned into amusement, this girl really had a lot of request for someone in trouble. “A blanket... in a police station?” he asked, stifling his laugh. You groaned internally before pointing at something behind him. “They're in there, I know they are, and I'm cold... Look at what I'm wearing?” His eyes trailed down to your outfit, the black tube dress tightly clinging to your skin, leaving little to the imagination. He coughed awkwardly, still gawking at it. "Ok-Okay," he stammered a bit, grabbing the blanket and bringing it up to the bars.

You wrapped the blanket around her frame, snuggling into it a bit. “Thanks,” you said softly. His cheeks turned a bit pink, and he quickly turned away, sprinting to the desk. He decided that filling out paperwork would distract him until the next officer came to switch out. you knew you’d be in for hours, dad's warning echoed in your mind: “Don't cause any more trouble. I'm here for work. Next time, you're gonna spend the night in that cell.” And he meant it, here you were sitting there, boredly clinging to your blanket.

“Officer,” you called out, looking at him intently. His short brown hair was messy as he briefly glanced up at you. You noticed how dark his eyes were, almost black, his skin pale, he looked tired. He raised his eyebrow, letting out a hm. “Detective Zabel,” he corrected, his eyes staying trained on the paper. You bit her lip slightly, taking in his appearance before smiling. “Can I get a bottle of water, Mister Zabel?”

He looked under the desk, grabbing a bottle of water from the mini-fridge stored there. Jogging up to the bars, he slipped it through, setting it on the floor for her.

“Thank you, Detective... you know,” you started, grabbing it with her cuffed hands and twisting the top off with her lips. “My daddy's a detective too,” you said, your tone almost amused. His eyes widened in surprise as he leaned against the bars. “That should give you more motivation to be a good girl, shouldn't it?” he said, not realizing how he sounded.

“A good girl? i’m good” you scoffed, giving him a playful look as your cheeks heated up slightly. “Then why are you drinkin' so much, kid?” he asked softly, looking into her eyes.

“I'm an adult; I can drink,” you replied simply, taking a sip of water. Truthfully, you had a problem. you’d never admit it, but the stress of your father being so distant—always prioritizing his job over you—took a toll. Whenever you were reminded of your mother, you would drown the thoughts with whatever alcohol you could get your fingers on.

He could sense the inner turmoil just from that reply. Your nose wrinkled up as you said it, hinting at something deeper, but it wasn't his place to pry. Or maybe it was just that your nose wrinkling up distracted him—it was so cute. He shifted around a bit, moving away from the bars, trying to shake off the thoughts. He was a professional.

“True, but you aren't even 21 yet, kid. Drinking like that could get you into more trouble than you are now... I let you off, yanno,” he said sincerely. “Detective Zabel. You don't have to call me a kid—” you started, but he groaned, letting out a soft chuckle. "You are a kid to me," he continued, a hint of amusement in his voice.

“You're like 28; how am I a kid to you?” you asked, your face twisted into confusion. Colin chuckled softly, an amused smile tugging at the corners of his mouth the moment the words left your lips. “28?” he repeated, eyebrows arching slightly in surprise. A wry grin crossed his face, a touch of humor glinting in his eyes. “Try 35, kid. I may have been blessed with an ageless face, but these lines ain't no lie.”

You cocked your head to the side, doing a double take at him before shaking your head. “You look good, Detective Zabel,” you said with a shrug. Colin blinked his eyes wide, the corners of his lips curving into a flattered smile. His cheeks slightly tinged with a soft blush, the compliment clearly caught him off guard. He couldn't think of the last time he'd gotten a compliment from a woman, especially one so forward.

“Oh, uh- thank you,” he replied, rubbing shyly at the nape of his neck. You noticed his dimple poking out, smiling to yourself. You had made him fluster from one small compliment.

“Are you trying to butter me up?” he asked softly, a playful grin tugging at the corners of his lips. You shook her head, a hint of mischief dancing in your voice. “No, but a little conversation can make time fly by. I'm not getting out of here anytime soon,” you huffed, frustration evident in your tone.

“Why not, kid? Thought you were getting picked up soon?” he said, puzzled, looking at the phone and then back to you.

“Yeah, he wants me to deal with the consequences, yanno... detective stuff,” you said with a slightly bitter laugh. Colin nodded in agreement; he would be that strict too. “I would too, kid. Getting drunk and causing all that ruckus in a town as small as this—if you got out, everyone would know,” he adds tiredly. You nodded in agreement, but you didn't care about what they thought. you were there as long as your dad's investigation lasted.

“Well... you're still a young woman, a beautiful young woman, might I add. You stay out of trouble,” he replied awkwardly, letting out a yawn. You giggled softly, noticing his discomfort as his eyes avoided yours while he nodded.

“I'll try,” you teased, leaning against the wall, yawning quietly. “Oh, you're getting tired... I'm gonna give you something to lay your head on,” he said gently, looking at his jacket shuffled into the corner. He grabbed it before opening her cell, sitting it near her. “Go to sleep; by morning, your dad should be here,” he said, locking it and going back to his boring paperwork, his cheeks still red

[snoopledrooplecheesedoodle]

Yandere Anasui Narciso X Therapist Female reader

Yep, will do. This is before Joylene went to prison and the events of Part 6 haven't happened yet. Pucci may be mentioned. I have never been to prison and am only using what I've seen of Green Dolphin as reference. Take anything that happens with a grain of salt.

Psychosis (Yandere Anasui Narisco x Fem! Therapist reader)

Tw: Sexism, mental illness, mentions of SA, murder, Anansui, obsessive behavior and other gross and suggestive themes. DON'T READ IF YOU'RE UNDER 17 (even still you're on thin ice if you complain).

The clicking of heels rings through the prison's male section as a woman walks beside two heavily armed security guards. The Green Dolphin male ward was no place for a woman to be by herself. The inmates either made disgusting comments about her and what they want to do to her, or they cursed her out and threatened to kill her when the guards leave.

The woman in question is (Y/N) (L/N) a recent graduate of Florida State University with a master's in psychology. While rather young, (Y/N) was a very bright person recommended to the Green Dolphin Street Prison by her professor. (Y/N) was very interested in the criminal mind and its workings, so this job while not glamorous piqued her interest. Sighing to herself, (Y/N) pulled down her skirt to cover as much of her upper legs as possible. Pigs. She knew none of them would have the courage to act this way when they were in a session with an armed guard.

"Listen newbie these prisoners contain some of the vilest criminals in Florida. You'll need to toughen up because your fancy degree won't be able to protect you." The male officer on your right sneered at (Y/N). (Y/N) huffed before turning to him. "I was under the impression that at least one armed guard would be nearby during a session." The guard on her left snickered mockingly, placing a heavy hand on your shoulder. "You're a big girl, you should be able to protect yourself. Besides you ain't even that cute for no one to fu-" (Y/N) slapped the officer's hand away harshly, glaring in disgust. "You have no right to speak to me or any colleague that way." The left male officer's eyes narrowed into his puffy cheeks making him look like an angry bulldog. "You think you can speak to me bitch cause your hot shit?! I oughta beat you like your daddy should have."

The officer on the right looks away as the officer on the left closes in. To (Y/N) it became very apparent that the male officers saw no use of the female employees here and were threatened by her intelligence. She knew that they were masking their precious egos and wouldn't do anything. (Y/N) made no move to back away and looked the chubbier officer in the eyes. "You know projecting your own trauma onto others won't resolve the internal pain." The left guard's cheeks turn even redder as he pulls out his Billy Club. "Why you-!"

Before she was hit, (Y/N) calmly yet defiantly stares into the cop's eyes, he falters and snarls at the woman. "Fucking witch, what did you do to me?!" "Given you something to work on, now would you both kindly escort me to my patients or will I have to report to the warden for gross incompetence." Both prison guards grumbled something about (Y/N) being a "pretentious bitch" but (Y/N) could care less she had clients to meet.

It was turning night and (Y/N) had finished some paperwork on her latest client some blind man named Johngalli A. He refused to open up to her at all and kept staring at the wall. (Y/N) chuckles to herself about the irony of your statement before sighing...why couldn't she just be assigned to the women's ward? Well, time to go home and shower the day away.

Those bastard cops left her defenseless in the men's ward no less! (Y/N)'s heels being the only noise in the uncomfortably quiet hallway. (Y/N) darts her eyes left to right as she turns the corner. Once she gets out of the male ward she can walk to a gate! (Y/N) visibly relaxes at the sight of two guards at the front of the gate. She tenses back up as they block the gate with their faces obscured. "Is there a problem gentlemen?" (Y/N) asks the guards who stood like sentries before the gates of Hell.

"Oh, look at that it's princess, can't believe you survived your first day" cruel brown eyes stared directly into her soul. More cops with a vendetta against (Y/N), when will it end? (Y/N) huffs and tries to barge through the flesh barricade, only to be met with resistance. "What's the hurry pretty thing? We just want to get to know our coworker better right Lewis?" The second one pipes up causing Lewis to glare at him. "Shut it Darnell, just grab the girl!" Darnell shrugs before attempting to grab (Y/N), key word is attempted as (Y/N) does not want anything to do with these men. She elbows the one trying to grab her hard in the windpipe. Darnell wheezes and falls to the ground, (Y/N) pulls pepper spray out of her bag and sprays Lewis in the face. Lewis covers his eyes and falls to the floor hollering.

(Y/N) tries to make an escape when Darnell hits her in the back of the head with the butt of his rifle. (Y/N) curses Darnell for recovering quickly as she falls to the ground, black spots filling her vision. "Fuck that bitch is quick on her feet." Darnell gasps as Lewis gets back up their voices become indistinguishable, but (Y/N) sees them getting down and trying to take of her clothes. Tears bubble up as she tries to move away only to be forcefully held down. The last thing (Y/N) sees and hears however is pink hair in her peripheral vision and a scream of agony.

(Y/N) wakes up in the trauma care center with prison nurses fussing over the bruising on her arms. Some cops who weren't complete dicks found the woman lying on the floor with her blouse partially unbuttoned and bruises on her arms and the back of her head. Hanging above your unconscious form were the dead bodies of your would-be assaulters Officers Lewis McVay and Darnell Thompson. Their bodies were so horribly disfigured that officers were only identified by a DNA test.

(Y/N) was horrified at the news yes, she thought they deserved to be punished but for someone to play God to this extent makes the woman feel unnerved. Her boss wasn't completely terrible since (Y/N) was given a week off. In this time, (Y/N) couldn't get the question out of her mind. Who saved her?

Monday at 9 am sharp (Y/N) arrives to work, she won't let the trauma stop her from helping the patients. Also bills need to be paid and college debt doesn't make life any easier. The guard at the front gate greets (Y/N) as she walks into the prison. Before (Y/N) can make it to the health wing, the warden approaches with a stern look on his normally pleasant face. "Ms. (L/N) I hope your break was pleasant, I regret to inform you that an inmate has personally requested you to be their therapist." That was news for (Y/N) as she was under the impression that most of the prisoners in the male ward hated her. It filled her with a weird sense of hope that her progress might not be all in vain.

"Great just hand me his personal files and we'll get started tomorrow." The warden held his puppet Charlotte up to you and spoke through it. "You don't understand, he wants to have a session now!" Now? (Y/N) was stunned why was the warden being so pushy about it. "Alright, I still need the man's files." The warden smiled and handed the woman the manila file under his arm. "Thank you very much Miss (Y/N) you've done the right thing." (Y/N) walked off in the direction of the male ward without bothering to respond.

The male prison ward was a lot quieter with the lack of jeers from the prisoners, however there was a lingering tension in the air. Many of the male prisoners glared daggers at the therapist as she made her way towards the room where her next patient was waiting. Inhaling (Y/N) put on her best brave face and opens the door. Waiting for her with a bored expression was a flamboyantly dressed man with long pink hair. The patient's rose-colored eyes lock with (Y/N) an indecipherable look as he trails her form. The therapist also took his appearance in further as she made her way to your seat.

His attire was impractical for a prison, consisting of a mesh shirt with pink shoe prints attached to it, a purple stewardess hat with gold horns on it, and thigh high white boots trailing up to the skimpiest brown skirt she's ever seen. Sitting down in the seat, (Y/N) greets her patient without breaking eye contact. "Good morning Anasui, I am (Y/N) (L/N) your therapist. I cannot prescribe you painkillers or antidepressants, but I can recommend you to a psychiatrist if I decide it is best for you." Silence. Very well, (Y/N) thought, he must not be quite comfortable yet. "The warden told me you requested my services personally, is that correct?" Anasui stares at your mien before speaking in a baritone voice. "I did doctor." (Y/N) shakes her head as she looks sheepishly at Anasui "Oh no I'm no doctor, I can't afford to spend any more time in college."

"Interesting"

(Y/N) got uncomfortable, it felt like Anasui was the therapist not her. "Do you find my lack of a doctorate amusing Mr. Anasui?" (Y/N) switched to strict therapist voice, she needed to let him know that she won't bend to whatever he has planned for her. Anasui stands up from his seat and stalks closer to the therapist. (Y/N) maintains eye contact with the prisoner as he kneels down until their foreheads are touching. "Why are you here (Y/N)?" Anasui asks as his hot breath fans over the woman in front of him, his tourmaline eyes scanning her facial features for any trace of dishonesty. (Y/N)'s eyes narrowed as she retorted sternly. "That is none of your concern Anasui, please return to your chair." "I won't." (Y/n) furrowed her brow in frustration as Anasui seemed to only get closer. She knows not to reveal all her cards, yet she knows that Anasui will refuse to continue this session unless he's pacified.

"If you must know Anasui, I happened to get into my profession because the criminal mind fascinates me. Now would sit down so I can figure out how to help you?" (Y/N) glares at the unruly patient in front of her, Anasui pulls away and stands back up to his full height, peering down at her. Anasui scoffs before sauntering over to his chair and sitting down. (Y/N) sighs before scribbling down 'difficult patient' on her patient notes. Who could blame her for being a little petty with a criminal? "Alright Anasui how was your childhood?"

(Y/N) came out of the room weary and a bit defeated. It was difficult to get through to someone who looked at her as if she were nothing. The little she gathered about him were short normally one-word answers. However, the audacity does not end there as Anasui asked many invasive questions about the therapist's personal life. (Y/N) gave lackluster responses and it seemed to be the only time that Anasui paid any attention during their session, as she would meet his unwavering gaze greedily soaking up the answers. It was honestly quite creepy.

(Y/N) was not watching where she was going as she collided with a firm object, causing (Y/N) to fall and drop her papers everywhere. "My apologies miss (L/N), I must not have been watching where I was going." A deep yet warm voice spoke as (Y/N) looked up to be met with the prison's chaplain Enrico Pucci. The young flushed as the handsome man offered you a firm hand, pulling her up. He was quite handsome for a man of the cloth. "Oh no father it was my fault, I've been stressed with work recently." Pucci nods his head as he gives (Y/N) a knowing look. "The prisoners here can be quite difficult, but you must not let you stray from guiding these lost lambs to salvation." (Y/N) smiles gratefully at the encouragement from the priest. "Thank you, father I won't let, you down." Pucci waves as the woman walk to the canteen for your meal. She won't let Anasui best her.

Not now, not ever

Lunch was uneventful as the therapist ate in the cafeteria, none of the inmates attempted anything. Must still be afraid of what happened to the last people who tried. (Y/N) didn't mind the peace as she looked through Anasui's file in hopes of getting some information which might crack him. It said he was a lonely boy who enjoyed taking things apart and was sent to the psychiatric ward for disassembling a neighbor's car. Clearly some compulsive behavior that continued on in a disturbing way with his crime. When he caught his girlfriend in bed with another man, Anasui methodically killed and disassembled their body parts so "they'd never be together again". You would think that was the actions of a mentally ill individual, but the psychiatric analysis declared Anasui was perfectly sane. Well, there goes her appetite, however (Y/N) achieved interesting information for her next session with Anasui.

(Y/N) awoke in a cold sweat to the blare of the alarm. She had one of the most disturbing nightmares about Anasui looking down at her with rage and slicing her limbs off one by one as she bleeds to death. The inmate's furious expression frightened her as (Y/N) had never seen more than a neutral expression on the pink haired criminal's face. The woman wanted to avoid that terrible fate of choking on her own blood, so she was determined to get into Anasui's good graces. Dressing in a comfortable sweater and a nice pair of dress pants, (Y/N) applies a slight bit of makeup before walking out the door in pleather dress shoes.

Morning traffic was light as (Y/N) drove down to the prison with a (hot beverage) in hand. Florida's weather was not (Y/N)'s favorite as she felt sweat beats form on the hand holding her beverage. She just hoped the air conditioner was working in her office as she had some paperwork to do after meeting with Anasui. Crossing the bridge, (Y/N) showed her work badge to the officer in the front before driving to the employee parking lot. She was ready to deal with her unruly patient.

(Y/N) could feel the tension filling the room. Anasui refused to look at her and the only sound was the scribbling of her pen. Alright time to deploy new tactics, not looking up from her paperwork (Y/N) asks. "Anasui what's your opinion on love?" At this question, Anasui sat up straight and burned holes into the top of her head. "My opinion on love?" Anasui slowly asks as if he's not sure what (Y/N) just said. (Y/N) looks up with a sweet smile. "Yes, I would like to know how you feel about love. How have you felt it? Who you've loved?" Anasui looks at the therapist with an unreadable expression before he sighs. "I don't love anyone." (Y/N) raises an eyebrow before shaking her head. "That's not what I asked, I want to know how you feel about love. I doesn't have to be romantic or recent, just tell me about your view on love."

Anasui looks like he had been punched in the gut as he looked away from his therapist's calm yet curious expression. "I never loved my family." Anasui began looking unsure of himself as the woman in front of him gestures for him to continue. "It was nothing they did wrong, I just never really cared what happened to them. I never cared about anyone until I met her..." Anasui looks down at his boots as if contemplating how much to share. "Was she your girlfriend?" (Y/N) asked gently, a tone that surprised Anasui. Anasui nodded and looked up to meet the woman's gaze. (Y/N)'s face was warm and welcoming a contrast to the normally hard professional exterior. "What was she like?" Anasui flushed at the question as he looked up dreamily. "She was perfect. Tough yet kind, I felt like I held the world in my arms when I held her." His face softened as his eyes filled with adoration. "What changed?"

At this question Anasui's eyes filled with rage, the same rage that (Y/N) saw in her dream. "I found another man with her in her bed, fucking her right before my eyes. How could she be so shameless as to sleep with another when she was mine?!" Anasui raised his voice towards the end, vitriol filling his voice as his eyes grew dark and a blank expression came across his face. "I figured if that if she didn't love me anymore than she deserved to die. The man who led her astray had to go too." (Y/N) shivered as she tried to keep a neutral face at the prisoner's confession. His voice was measured and cold like a true killer. (Y/N) knew she had to get him out of this volatile head space, or she might be next.

"I'm sorry that you had to go through such heartbreak, love isn't always easy. I don't think you should give up on love entirely Anasui, there's always someone out there for everyone." The therapist hid the waiver in her voice as she felt ice shoot up her spine, Anasui's dead eyes gazed at her apathetically. (Y/N) jumped as Anasui appeared right in front of her caging her into her chair with his body, his gaze fixed like a predator observing its prey. How did he get up so fast?! Anasui observed the panic on (Y'N)'s face as he leaned into her face. "Do you really believe there is someone who is willing to love a monster like me? A murderer who killed two innocent people and feels no remorse?" Anasui challenged the woman in front of him, daring her to delude herself in believing that he was worthy of love.

"Yes, I believe that even murderers can find love." (Y/N) steadily stated placing her hands in her lap to hide how badly they were shaking. The man who put her in such a compromising position scared her to know end. She had dealt with many vile criminals that threatened her life but there was always anger, blazing fire in their eyes. Anasui was icy cold as nothing was displayed behind his eyes. His forehead bumped into (Y/N)'s harshly as he looked her up and down. "Could someone like you love me? Someone innocent and free from the cement walls that confine me?" (Y/N) brought her own face close enough for their noses to touch before speaking. "Yes, even innocent people can fall in love with criminals. It's up to the criminals to open themselves up to the idea of being in love though." Anasui's eyes widened at her action and words, she was tough. However, the fire in her eyes was something beautiful to experience firsthand. She cared enough to try to get through to him which means she cares.

She must love him

His eyes fill with an emotion he only held for one other person, adoration. (Y/N)'s eyes widen as Anasui plants his lips on her forehead and he pulls away smiling. She had never seen this man smile, except when he mentioned his ex. Her gut felt like it was filled with lead as Anasui takes her hands in his and speaks. "I think I'm ready to love again."

I think I'm ready to love again

What an ominous warning for what was to come. If (Y/N) could come back and warn her previous self not to take on Anasui as a patient, she would. However, it seems he was obsessed with her before even officially meeting. This obsession morphed from curiosity to some bastardized version of love. Some sick replacement for affection. (Y/N) couldn't continue this charade of being the caring therapist if it meant her life was in peril. She'd have to move to the women's ward or worst case, another prison entirely. Stirring the coffee that she obtained from the break room, (Y/N) contemplated her next move. Anasui is a dangerous man, who knows how he will react to her leaving? For now (Y/N) needed to lay low and make it perfectly clear to Anasui she did not love him at all.

"You're late." Anasui's voice held a tinge of annoyance as (Y/N) set her leather satchel down. The woman grimaces at the sign of a negative emotion, keep calm and everything will be fine. (Y/N) turned to Anasui and gave him a professional smile. "I don't think it's possible for a therapist to be late, if this concerns you, we can finish later." Anasui considers this and nods, scooting his chair in to be closer to his beloved therapist. (Y/N) pushes her own chair further away from the pink haired male, causing him to frown. "Anasui, you know I am your therapist, right?" Anasui gives her a dreamy look as he reaches out to (Y/N). "You are that and more my darling." (Y/N) recoils into herself at his lovesick eyes burn holes in her very soul. She needs to pick her next words carefully.

"As your therapist it is important that I maintain a distance from your personal life. I believe that it is wise for us to observe our relationship as patient and provider, nothing more and nothing less."

"Marry me."

"What?" The cold feeling of dread raked its icy fingers through your neck hairs, which stood at attention. Anasui's pink lips quirk into a confident smirk as he pulls a small black box out of God knows where. He opened it to reveal a modest ring with a small diamond. "I see no need to court properly as we already know so much about each other. I want you to be my wife and I will be your husband." "NO." (Y/N) shouted her calm facade quickly unraveling as Anasui approached her chair once more.

"No."

(Y/N) looks away from the towering pinkette in front of her, the room's energy becoming sharp and frigid like an icicle. (Y/N) had to stand firm now or she would never escape this monster "I can't marry my patient; besides you know nothing about me." (Y/N) thought reason would reach the seemingly logic-oriented prisoner, but he was too far gone. A rough hand gripped her chin and pulled her face to peer at his own misty-eyed stare. "You're wrong, I know more about you than even your own parents. I can treat you better than any other man so why do you refuse me." (Y/N) didn't believe him one bit.

"What's my favorite color?"

"(F/C)."

"When was I born?"

"(DOB)."

"Do I have a pet?"

"No but you've also preferred cats over dogs."

(Y/N) gasped and pushed herself further in her chair as the monster in front of her caged her in once more. This has to be a bluff, an attempt at besting her, she won't yield. "Anasui if you don't sit down, I will alert the guards." (Y/N)'s tone waivered as her eyes were wild with panic. Anasui soaks in (Y/N)'s terrified expression with a deadpan expression. "If you call the guards, I'll slaughter every last one of them. If you leave, I'll break out and find you." His eyes did not lie as he said this phrase, she were frightened. How unstable could a prisoner be to claim to love her after only a few visits?

Before (Y/N) could retort, Anasui slams his lips on hers muffling any cry for help. He took advantage of her open mouth to wriggle his pink muscle in. (Y/N) screamed into the kiss as Anasui had closed his eyes in bliss. The therapist lay limp as she let him have his way with her mouth, before he pulls away a sting of saliva connecting (Y/N) to this ravenous beast. "If you're not ready for marriage now we can court, just know that refusal can lead to the death of many." Leaning down to place open mouth kisses on her now exposed neck, leaving pink lipstick marks all over.

"What will it be (Y/N) marriage or courtship?"

[dr-spencer-reids-queen]

Leap of Faith

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Female!Reader

Word Count: ~1k

Warnings: fluff

Summary: You use Halloween as an excuse to tell Spencer how you feel.

Square Filled: costume party (2022) for @cmbingo

Author’s Note: any and all comments are appreciated <3

x

You tighten your pigtails so that they sit high on your head. You turn to look at how good your ass looks in the short shorts you bought on Amazon. The fishnet stockings are itchy on your skin but you’re going to be too drunk to care in about an hour. Usually, you make sure your makeup is perfect before leaving the house but this time, you make sure it’s messy and smudges at the corners of your lips.

You’ve been invited to a Halloween party at Rossi’s place where everyone else is going to be. Your costume is a sexy Harley Quinn. She is one of your favorite superheroes and Margot Robbie does an amazing job at playing her. It’s cliche and cheesy to add “sexy” in front of a costume but this time, you wanted it to be like that. You have someone to impress and it’s not gonna happen if your costume isn’t sexy.

You even dyed your hair blonde so you can dye the ends pink and blue. It’s a decision you made knowing you were gonna love it even after Halloween was over. Your shirt says “Daddy’s Lil Monster” which ends right below your breasts. If you raise your arms, you’ll definitely show some underboob. Your entire midsection is showing since your shorts hang low on your hips. You don’t care who sees you like this since you’re pretty confident in your own skin whether you’re one hundred pounds or three hundred.

You blow yourself a kiss and leave the bedroom, making sure to grab your metal bat on the way to the living room where your best friend is. JJ and Will decided to dress up as Barbie and Ken from the new Barbie movie. You haven’t seen it yet but you know the scene where Barbie and Ken are rollerblading through the town in bright neon outfits.

“Ready?”

Will and JJ turn you when they hear you come in. Will immediately looks away from you while JJ whistles.

“Spencer is going to go feral when he sees you.”

“You think?” you grin.

“For sure.”

“I call shotgun!” you shout as you run toward the car.

“No, you had it last time!” Will runs after you.

JJ smiles at the dynamic between you and her husband. You two became fast friends which makes her happy. You’re her best friend and he’s her husband. It all works out in the end. She walks to the car to see you in the front seat with a smug smile while Will is pouting playfully in the back. The drive to Rossi’s house isn’t long since she lives close to him, and when you get there, you see Derek’s car. If he’s here, that means Spencer is. They do everything together. The only car you don’t see here is Hotch’s. It’s normal for him to be fashionably late for these kinds of events.

Penelope and Spencer must have volunteered to decorate Rossi’s place because this looks amazing. Rossi is not the one to go out and decorate to this degree. You three walk up to the door and knock, and Rossi opens it slowly. He’s a modern Dracula without the fangs. He hates the feeling of things on his teeth. The years he wore braces were the worst.

“Welcome. Nice costumes.”

You step inside and see Derek texting someone by the front door. He’s dressed as a cop because he waited until the last minute to put something together. He still had his old uniform from when he was a beat cop and decided to use that. When he hears people enter, he puts the phone away to mingle. He whistles when he sees you, and he brings you in for a friendly hug.

“Damn, Y/N. Who are you trying to impress?”

“You know who. Where is he?”

“In the kitchen. He booked it in there as soon as he heard there were cupcakes.”

You pat his shoulder as you walk away from them, dragging your bat behind you. Spencer is by the kitchen island eating a cupcake when you enter. Halloween is his favorite holiday because he loves decorating and dressing up. He’s dressed in a puffy white clown costume. His face is painted ghostly white to match the color of the costume with dramatic eyebrows drawn on and a painted red smile. Even he can make something so creepy look cute.

“You gonna save some for the rest of us?” you ask. Spencer looks up and starts choking as soon as he sees you in your costume. He grabs a water bottle and chugs half of it to get the food out of his throat. Once he’s calmed down, he rakes his eyes down your entire costume. “I’ll take that as a good sign.”

“Wow, you look great,” he stutters.

“Thank you. I love your costume.”

“I made this,” he smiles proudly.

“I know. This is all you’ve been talking about for the past couple of weeks.” Spencer grabs another cupcake and tears off the paper before taking a bite. Some of the frosting gets on his upper lip which he licks away, but there is still some left behind. This is it. This is your chance. You walk up to him and reach up to his face. “You got a little something.” You wipe his top lip with your thumb and place the pad of your thumb in your mouth. “Delicious.”

Spencer is staring at your mouth and thinking he’d love it if your lips were on his instead. You can see the lust in his eyes so you take the leap of faith.

“You got some more. Come here.”

You pull Spencer close and kiss him to take the frosting off that isn’t there. Spencer grips your hips and pulls you closer as he kisses you back.

“Wait,” you pull away from him, “is this okay?”

“More than.”

You two meet halfway and kiss some more, not caring if you have an audience by the entrance into the kitchen.

“She made the first move. All of you owe me ten bucks,” JJ grins.

x

Follow my library blog @aqueenslibrary​​​​​​ where I reblog all my stories, so you can put notifications on there without the extra stuff :)

[lipglossanon]

M༙྇r༙྇.༙྇ S༙྇i༙྇n༙྇i༙྇s༙྇t༙྇e༙྇r༙྇

corrupt cop!leon s. kennedy x fem!reader

Warnings: 18+ so minors DNI, Reader is 18+, corruption kink, dark Leon, daddy kink, biting, dirty talk, oral (f receiving)

don’t like, don’t interact 🤷‍♀️ any typos or mistakes are my own, not proofread and also probably an overuse of the word good but eh lmao

divider: @firefly-graphics 💜

Editing to add: title of this is Mr. Sinister, pulled from the I Don’t Know How But They Found Me song of the same name ✌️

Part 2: Mirror on the Wall (Tell Me All the Ways to Stay Away)

Part 3: One Love, Two Mouths

Part 4: Embracing With Two Hands

______________

Leon likes to patrol the usual hideaways and make out spots in Raccoon City; although he’s in his late 20’s now, the spots are still popular and it’s easy pickings to write out tickets for loitering or underage drinking.

He doesn’t stake out Lovers Lane too often, but tonight he’s extremely glad he did.

He spots you, alone, walking down the pull off road headed out from the popular make out destination. Your arms are folded, thin yellow cardigan paired with a modest grey skirt standing out at this time of night. Your head is bent down so you don’t even notice him until he has pulled up alongside you.

“Lost?”

Your head quickly looks over at him and you give him a shy smile, cute dimples showing.

“Uh n-no. My date, he uh,” you frown, pretty eyes glancing at your shoes, “well, things didn’t go his way so I’m walking home.”

Leon’s eyes rake across your body, a low heat building in his stomach. You’re so vulnerable right now. He feels his pulse race in excitement.

“That’s a shame,” he clicks his tongue drawing your bashful gaze back to him, “I can take you home.”

“Really?” Another of those dimpled smiles grace your face.

“Of course,” Leon grins, boyish and sweet, “hop in the back.”

You climb into the back of the squad car. Leon’s eyes watch as you tug your skirt back down from your thighs as you adjust in your seat. He wants to sink his teeth into them, leave them bruised before burying his face in your little cunt.

You sigh in relief and catch his gaze in the rear view mirror, “I really appreciate it, Officer Kennedy.”

“It’s no problem, sweetheart.”

You give him your address and he nods as he pulls back onto the road.

A few minutes pass by as you gaze out the window watching the trees pass by like dark shadows on the glass.

“So you and your boyfriend huh?” Leon asks, drumming his fingers on the steering wheel. The anticipation is building inside him.

You look away from the scenery, brow furrowed as you look at the back of his head.

“Yeah, he um..”

You trail off, feeling embarrassed. You shuffle in your seat and tug on your skirt.

“He didn’t hurt you did he?” Leon’s sharp voice cut in.

“Oh no no,” your eyes widen with surprise, “he just wanted to go further than I was comfortable with.”

Your voice trails off as you bit your lip. Leon watches in the mirror. He loves the look on your face. Uncomfortable and unsure.

“Boys can be very hotheaded. Especially when they’re with a pretty girl. And you’re a very pretty girl,” he spoke, voice still tinged with that dark edge.

You feel your cheeks warm, eyes catching his shyly, “I-I guess.”

“No,” he shook his head, “I won’t have any of that. Say thank you, Officer Kennedy.”

“Thank y-you, Officer Kennedy,” you stammer out, wide eyed at his tone.

Leon gives you a lazy smile, “Good girl. We thank people who give us compliments, sweetheart.”

“Okay,” you feel a low pulse of arousal at his words, “thank you.”

His smile widens, “Anytime. I bet you’re just the sweetest thing, huh. No wonder your boy pushed his luck. I bet you’re still a virgin.”

You press your palms to your face, shielding your embarrassment, “That i-isn’t appropriate to—“

Leon laughs, “Yeah you are, just a sweet, little virgin.”

You press your thighs together, hating and loving the way he was speaking to you.

Leon’s sea dark eyes took in your flustered appearance, “Bet you’re wet right now, pretty girl.”

You let out a harsh gasp and Leon laughs again. You watch as he pulls off into a thick copse of trees, the road disappearing behind you before shutting the car off.

“I think you need someone to show you the ropes, sweetheart,” Leon murmurs in the quiet.

He gets out of the car and makes his way into the backseat with you. You press your back against the opposite door, pulling your legs up to face him.

“Officer Kennedy, I need to get home,” you whisper.

He shakes his head, “And you will but right now, I think I deserve a little treat, right? For taking you home.”

He grabs your ankles and drags your legs to lay out straight as he crawls over your body, boxing you in. You can smell his cologne along with the mint on his breath.

Your hands reach out to press against his chest, stilling his movements.

“Aww,” he coos down at you, “‘m not gonna do anything to hurt you.”

You bite your lip, wide eyes peering up at him, “You promise?”

Leon could jump for joy. You were so trusting which made you easy.

“Of course, pretty girl. I promise. I won’t do anything you won’t like.”

You take a deep breath and let it out, “Okay.”

“Such a good girl for me,” he lets his lips hover over yours.

Your pouty mouth has been tempting him all night. He gives you a quick closed mouth kiss that has you sighing. He presses more chaste pecks against your cheeks and nose before going back to your mouth.

This time, it’s a heated exchange of tongues and lips and spit until your gasping on every exhale and Leon has to pull away. He goes back again and again and again. He can’t get enough of your sticky sweet kisses. The glittery strawberry lipgloss has him sucking your bottom lip into his mouth before releasing it with a quiet pop.

He coaxes you to open up your mouth wider and pulls away to slip his thumb between your lips. You slowly suckle on the digit and that, along with your blitzed out expression, has his cock jumping. He pulls his thumb away only to smear it along your red, swollen lips.

“Pretty fuckin mouth,” he presses his thumb back in, “want it stretched around my cock tonight, sweet thing.”

You moan and suck on his thumb harder, thighs twitching and rubbing together. Your skirt gets rucked up from all the movement until Leon can see the light blue panties covering your pussy.

“Yeah,” his eyes darken, “god, I bet that little cunt is soaked right now, huh sweetheart?”

You whine as he pulls his thumb away, “I’ve never w-went this far. I don’t know what to do.”

He groans, “God you’re perfect. Don’t worry, I’ll teach you what you need.”

Leon feels lucky. Like he won the lottery the moment he saw you alone. He tries to reign in his excitement and take it slow.

He moves back to kissing you, thrusting his tongue into your hot, pliant mouth. You tentatively suck on his tongue and he presses his hips down onto yours, grinding the hard line of his cock against your panty clad pussy.

“Gonna make you feel so good, pretty girl.”

He manages to pull himself away from your lips and moves down to your thighs. He presses a few soft kisses into each thigh before latching onto the left and sinking his teeth into it. You give a sharp cry at the sting but feel dizzy with how much you liked it.

“Such a good girl,” he mumbles into the bite, eyes never leaving your face, “gonna do the other side now, ‘kay?”

And before you can even nod, he’s pressing his teeth into your right thigh biting down a little harder than before.

Your head falls back against the door with a low moan.

“Knew you’d like it, fuckin slut.”

You give a mewling gasp in response. Leon continues to litter your thighs with bites and hickeys until your squirming so hard he has to hold your hips in place.

“So fuckin good for me, sweetheart. Gonna keep you all to myself.”

Your pussy clenches at that admission, another low whine spilling from your lips.

You feel wetness slipping down your thighs as Leon slides his fingers across your panties and lightly strokes against your clit. He presses his face against the damp cotton before licking you through your panties, soaking them even further.

He presses an open mouthed kiss to your cunt, tongue lapping at the fabric before finally pulling off your panties and stuffing them in his pocket.

“Gorgeous. You’re pretty everywhere.”

After a beat of panting breaths, he gives a light smack to your mound and puffy clit that makes you thrust up with a wanton cry, “What did I say about compliments?”

You bring your tear filled gaze to his, “T-thank you, Offic—“

“Daddy. That’s what you’re gonna call me now, pretty girl.”

You moan, “Thank you, daddy.”

He smiles up at you, “Of course, sweet thing. Now I’m going to eat this pretty pussy for as long as I want.”

Your legs twitch but stay pressed open, “Thank you, daddy.”

“Good girl,” he grins, “so good for me.”

You feel another gush of wetness from the praise and the hungry look on his handsome features. Your hands flutter at your sides as he brushes his hair away from his face and turns back to the apex of your thighs.

He ducks his head down and licks over your slick folds slowly until his tongue is circling your swollen clit. You can’t stop the low whines and moans as you reach down to run your hands through his hair.

“That’s it, grab onto me if you need to, sweetheart.”

He goes back down on you and eats you out like a man starved. His tongue is thrusting into your wet clenching hole before slipping along your lips up to your sensitive clit. He places open mouth kisses over your mound until finally sucking your clit into his mouth and slowly teasing his tongue across it.

Your hips are jumping and pressing up up up into his mouth. Your careful not to pull his hair but your hands are scratching along his scalp making him moan into your pussy, the vibrations send you reeling.

“Please daddy, please please please,” you’re babbling, “Feels so good. You make me feel so good daddy.”

You’re nearly crying from how much tension is building in your core. Leon slips in a finger alongside his mouth and you feel your orgasm ramping closer and closer.

Leon continues lapping at your hole before moving his mouth up to your clit to softly suckle on it. He slips in another finger and crooks them both upwards. He continuously rubs against that spongy spot that has you clenching hard on his fingers. Your hips arch down into the motion of his hand before arching back up to his sinfully good mouth.

His tongue dips into your cunt alongside his fingers. Pulling back, he presses another sharp bite into your left thigh making you moan loudly and pull his hair.

“Fuck, that’s it’s baby. Want you to feel good.”

You tug him back down into your throbbing pussy and he moans as you press your clit against his lips. Leon mouths at your sloppy cunt until you’re moaning loudly as you cream all over him.

“So good for me, pretty girl,” Leon licks his lips with a grin.

“You want me to help you out now?”

Leon adjusts himself in his slacks, “No, we’re gonna save that for another time, sweetheart. I need to get you home, I’m sure it’s past your bedtime.”

You can feel embarrassment crawl up your spine, “I, uh, live alone so actually I-I don’t really have one.”

He turns his face to the side so it’s hard to read his expression, but you can see his teeth glint in a smile.

“Well now, sweetheart. Maybe I could stop in for a night cap, huh?”