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dalamjisung · 2 months

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A muted shade of green ✧ Spencer Reid

genre: fluff, light angst

word count: 6339

pairing: reader x spencer reid

description: Dr. Spencer Reid is simply adorable. And you actually think he might be perfect. Until, that is, he isn't.

a muted shade of green masterlist // next chapter

His apartment is a muted shade of green and you always wonder why is it that he painted it so dark. The book covered walls never fail to impress you, making you smile into the ether that was this place with its shelves and shelves of worldly stories. His taste, you think, is more towards the classics and refined tales that carry significance and importance in the world of literature. Dostoyevski, Austen, Orwell, Doyle. Though here and there, in some corners of the living room or thrown haphazardly in the kitchen counter, you see peeks of contemporary names, the ones you’re sure you sold him a long, long time ago. Murakami, Zadie Smith, George.

You met Spencer when you first moved into D.C., about a year or so ago, and sometimes, you really think that it was just yesterday when you first saw him with his purple scarf walking inside your store.

“Excuse me.”

You have too many books in your arms to even see who is talking to you, but you apologise nonetheless; it’s the least you can do for your first customer. “I’ll be with you in a moment, apologies for the mess, we literally just opened.” In your defence, you had been so busy unpacking all the new orders and organising things into shelves that you absolutely forgot to put the plaque with your opening hours by the door. You can hear his shoes clicking and clacking around the place, and a wave of anxiety washes through you. If he leaves with a book– luckily two– you will have made your first sell and that just might remind you that of the reason why you decided to do this in the first place.

Carefully putting the pile of Maggie Nelson’s on the counter, you finally turn to face him, tired smile from ear to ear when you see him holding two books already. “You found something you like?” You gently ask, voice calm and fingers fidgeting while you wait for an answer. “Many things, actually. I’m quite glad to see a wide variety of books here, it’s been hard finding something new to read lately.”

His voice is pointed and it echoes in the empty store. The clock on the walls says it’s 7:58AM and you suck in a breath; it’s definitely too early for someone to be looking for books, but maybe he wants entertainment for his commute, maybe he needs a distraction for the way, or maybe he is odd like that.

It must be cold outside. The man is wearing a purple scarf inside what looks like a wool coat, and somehow, he fits in there, in your store. He looks like the kind of person who would be buying books as early as 8 in the morning and you’re not sure if that is adorable or unhinged.

“Just these, thank you,” The loud thump of the pile of books he deposits by the cashier makes you gasp. “You have a great selection here, I was lucky you open early!” The twinkle in his eyes is what keeps you from telling him that that, in fact, was a big mistake. In the middle of rushing to get the keys from the landlord in time, get the deliveries, get everything sorted and organised, you had completely forgotten to put out the hours for the shop.

“I am glad you found us here! Do you live nearby?” At this point, you’re just trying to make conversation as you bagged his items, smiling at the titles and happy to see your favourite book in the midst. “I live just across the street, actually,” He said, giving you his card. “You’ll see me a lot, I’m afraid.”

“And what should I call my most loyal customer, then?” One look down at his card and you would know, but you wanted him to tell you himself.

“Spencer Reid.”

There is not really a sound reason as to why you walk so freely into his apartment. The first time he asked you to do this, he was going on a case and needed someone to water his plants. As it turn out, your store is quite literally across the street from his building and you don’t really mind the mindless task, so you tell him to not worry, you’ll take care of it. It had been a few months since you two met, five or so, and despite taking you some time to truly understand, you got used to the fact that Spencer created a routine for both of you, knocking on your shop’s door every Monday at precisely 8 in the morning. With time, you stopped questioning him even when you had many, many questions– was he even reading all these books? If yes, how?! Every visit, he left with three books or more, and unless he pulled all nighters every night, those were simply sitting on his desk.

Instead, you start putting a few titles aside whenever you spot them. You start it with ‘A Gentleman From Peru’ by André Aciman, short and sweet. Next week it was ‘A Little Paris Bookshop’ by Nina George. Then ‘Cultish’ by Amanda Montell. And just like this, you two form your own little book club, his visits extending beyond their usual thirty minutes into the better part of the hour to talk about the plot, the characters, the arcs. You know there is quite a lot you don’t know about Spencer, of course there is, but you learn more and more with every little debate you two have. You learn about his morals through the character he likes, and his dreams through the plots he enjoy. You learn about his photographic memory that allows him to quote his favourite sections to you, and you learn that he is a very logical man through his hatred for the inaccuracy of investigative books. You learn and you learn and you learn and you find out that you like learning about Spencer. More than you like learning about anyone else, that is, and now, every time he walks in, you can’t help but get excited, smiling as you only imagine what you would learn that day.

Sometimes, you did notice the absence of your favourite customer. He would disappear for weeks on end and then act like nothing happened, and you get it; he doesn’t owe you anything, you’re just the lady that sells him books, but you feel like there is something that is starting to bloom when, every time he comes back, he brings you a book. “I thought you’d like it,” Is all he says before leaving with his bag of new reads. For a moment, it’s like an exchange, but Spencer never demands anything of you; never asks for anything more than new books and recommendations.

It’s quite rewarding finding the books you sold him scattered through the apartment. There are a couple in the kitchen, open split on the counter and you smile fondly at the clumsy way he marks his books. There is no folded page, no book marker, no random picture; just his book, cover facing up, open and splitting the spine in half enough to crease. You shake your head, smiling like he’s done this just to rile you up.

“Oh my god, don’t!”

You don’t mean to shout but it’s too late. His eyes widen in shock and he immediately freezes, mouth stuck in a little ‘o’ shape that makes you blush. “What did I do?”

The wince in your expression is as visible as the light of day when you speak. Your hands hover in the air, unsure of what to do now, but still trying to do something. “The book, Spencer,” The words come out like a whine, and if you start stomping your feet you might as well look like a child. “The spine. The book. The– oh my god, the noise!”

The way he laughs at you is contagious, and you start laughing with him, face hidden behind your hands in embarrassment. Owning a bookshop doesn’t come for free. Your particularities when it comes to your literary treasures are enough to scare any sane person away. “You know, there are worse sounds than a book’s spine breaking,” He mused, closing the book before walking to your counter. His nimble fingers drum a soft rhythm as he waits for you to go around and charge him for the book. It’s a symphony, almost; so loud in your quiet store that, for a second, your heart is tuning in, thumping as his fingers do, beating to the song he creates.

“You don’t have to buy it,” It’s a little ridiculous how airy your voice sounds then. Aren’t you a little too old to have a crush? “It’s okay if–“ But he doesn’t even let you finish, rattling off some facts about the writer. Most of the time, actually, he is rattling off some fact about something, and some you know, some you don’t, but you never interrupt him. You like hearing him talk.

You miss hearing him talk. Whenever Spencer leaves, you miss him. You miss the knock on your shop’s door at 8AM. You miss the shy little chuckles. You miss the purple– the constant, always there purple. A wave of sadness hits you then, looking around the apartment with a longing expression.

The first time he calls you over, it’s not really an invitation. A week before it happens, he doesn’t show up for your Tuesday unboxing and you have to carry all the new orders inside by yourself. It takes double the time and despite the effort it takes you, it’s the absence of his coy chuckles and snarky commentary that leaves you breathless. When you open the boxes, checking inventory to make sure there had been no issues with your order, you find the book Spencer asked you to get him. It’s one of those special books, so old and unique that you could only get your hands on it because you had contacts in the space. “Huh,” You frown at that– it isn’t like Spencer to forget something. Hell, it isn’t like Spencer to forget anything. Before you can cower away from doing it, you send him a text. You have his number saved in the system, and this feels wrong, it really does. Using his personal information that he gave to you as a client felt wrong. But for a second, it makes you stop biting your nails in anxiety.

Your book is here.

It’s Y/N, by the way.

He doesn’t answer right away and you wallow in your regret for as long as you can. Your shoulders hunch forward as you line up the new arrivals in the shelves. Your frown sits on your forehead all day while you help other passing customers. Your hands brush against the book, all ready and wrapped up and sitting on top of the counter. You hate waiting; you hate waiting for someone or for something to happen as if you’re praying for a miracle. Literature has taught you many lessons in life. It has shown you countless of love stories that could’ve been resolved with a simple conversation. It has told you about people that waited and waited and waited until time passed them away. It has taught you that waiting is simply delaying the inevitable.

But what literature has not taught you is that, sometimes, waiting truly is all you can do.

That day, you don’t get a message back.

You get a call instead.

“Y/N?” The familiar voice on the other side speaks before you can and your shoulders tense up. Something is wrong. He sounds hoarser than usual, airier, too.

“Spencer,” You say back, clearing your throat of any remnants or indicators of how nervous you are. “Spencer, are you okay? You sound rough.”

Even his laugh sounds weak and a zap of worry rushes through you. “I’m fine,” He mumbles, and you know he’s saying it out of politeness. “I just got sick. I think I have a cold, it’s nothing much, really.”

The relief that washed over you in crashing waves is almost embarrassing. Even though he is not there to witness it, your face still flushes in a dramatic red. “Oh. I see. Sorry, I didn’t mean to bother you–“

“It’s not a bother,” The way his voice interrupts you, so strong and concise, makes you chuckle. “You’re not a bother. I uh, I’m glad to hear my book arrived.”

For a moment, you both stay quiet. You, on your end of the line, are nodding like he can see you. Except he can’t. Except he is waiting, probably, for you to say something. Do something. “I can bring it to you. If you want.”

This time, there is no pause. “Yes. I mean, yes, please. I– I don’t have anything new to read and–” Spencer pauses to cough and you start moving immediately. There is no one in the store and you quickly change the sign to ‘closed’, grabbing his book and your bag before locking the door behind you. There is a pharmacy at the end of the block and you keep your cellphone balanced between your shoulder and ear while your hands make sure you have your wallet with you. “Sorry.”

“No problem at all,” You cross the street in such a hurry that you don’t notice the traffic, getting a symphony of horns calling you out as you run to the other side of the street. “Shit…”

“Are you okay?”

“I’m fine,” You tease, laughing a little and entering the pharmacy with purpose. “So just a cold, right?”

“Y/N, where are you?”

“Out,” There is no need to be vague, but you don’t want to give him a chance to protest. “I should be at yours in fifteen minutes with the book.”

“Just the book?” He asks in such a suspicious tone that you can’t hold back a laugher.

“What else?” Thank god for automatic cashiers speeding up this entire process. You are in an out in less than five minutes and before he can even answer, you are almost at his door. Admittedly, you are speed walking, almost running, in a futile attempt to get there sooner. “Which apartment do I buzz?”

“Apartment 23.” And that is the end of the call.

By the time you make it to his floor, panting just as you hike the last step upwards, he is already waiting for you, and you can’t say you’re terribly bothered to have a man like Spencer Reid waiting for you by the door. “Spencer,” You still admonish, a small smile playing on your lips. “You shouldn’t be out and about like this.”

“Then who would let you in?” The mischief in his expression, much like that of a child making an innocent joke, makes you giggle, nodding in agreement. “Do you want to come inside? I promise everything is clean, I’m not a slob or anything.”

“Yeah, let me come in so I can give you your stuff.”

“I knew it wasn’t just the book,” The coughing fit that followed has you rushing your hands, pulling things out of your bag in a desperate attempt to get him the medicine you bought. This had always been your curse, the flustering anxiety of wanting to help but being unable to take your time. Shaky hands push the book towards him, with the medication and some old receipts stuck to it.

“Oh shit, sorry!” You squeak, grabbing the receipts and shoving it back in your bag. One of these days, you’d have to close the store early to clean this thing. “But uh, yeah, I got you some cold medicine and your book. I’m sure you know this with your big brain and all, but you need to take this before bed, cause it makes you drowsy, and this other one in the morning since it has caffeine! And you should be good in no time… hopefully!”

In life, a pause is not always a bad thing. It’s a time to think. A time to appreciate, to enjoy. It’s a time to be. A pause, however, from the man whose brain worked a thousand miles an hour, doesn’t feel like something to be thankful for. “Is… Do you not like that brand? I didn’t want to get the generic thing, I don’t know why, I–“

“Thank you.”

At first, you barely hear it. For someone whose voice is so rough and hoarse, you’re surprised he can still sound so smooth and airy. Your reaction is obvious; he can see the blush in your cheeks and the way you bite back a smile. “Y/N, thank you, I really appreciate it,” He says it again and now you think he just wants to get a rise of you. “You didn’t have to.”

“I know,” You shrug, faking humbleness while you keen at his praise. “I wanted to.”

“I know.”

There is a dance that happens after that, one that you find yourself enjoying quite a bit. Spencer is more present than ever, and you’re getting used to having him around. It’s like you two broke the glass wall the kept you at a safe distance, and now is when you two discover each other a bit better. Like how you find out that, when Spencer’s hand lays on the cashier counter, just an inch or less away from yours, you feel the heath that it emanates. Like how your fingers curl and your palms itch at the sight of his shaggy curls falling on top of his beautiful eyes. Like how his laughter is deep when it’s true and dry when it’s forced. Like how he can read 20,000 words per minute, but he chooses to read 183 instead just so he can read you passages out loud.

You are not sure what he has learned about you, or if he even cares to learn something about you, but the thought still makes you smile. “What’s gotten you so smiley so early in the morning?”

Ah, yes; another thing you’ve learned about Spencer Reid– he is as quiet as mouse when he wants, and as loud as an elephant when he doesn’t. “My god!” You jump, hand immediately going to your heart to try and keep it from beating our of your chest from the shock. “Spence! You scared me!”

“I’m so sorry,” He laughs, raising his hands in the air, shaking the two cups of coffee he is holding. “I come in peace.”

“And with bribery, I like your style.”

His style doesn’t change, still haven’t. For ages, you think he buys you coffee at the nearby cafe. You don’t really know the name of the place, some cliche Cafe something something, but the one time you’ve been in there the coffee was terrible and the music too loud. It’s hard picturing your shy, smiley book-lover in there, trying to order something without raising his voice. It’s only when you see the go-to paper cups on his counter, on the fourth or fifth time you come around, that you realise Spencer has never gone to that cafe to begin with.

The cups are still there. You make a point in spotting them every time you come over– next to the microwave, close to the paper towels. The reminder that this man has, in fact, been making you coffee most mornings validates the fluttery feeling you have whenever you think of it. It makes it somewhat logical. “I must be spending too much time with him,” You mumble to yourself, pushing your sleeves up and getting to work. You are there for a reason, and if those wilting plants die on you, you fear that you might just never be invited back. “Why does he even have plants?”

You don’t know much about Spencer’s job. He hasn’t told you anything about it except that he travels a lot for it, but you can imagine it is something of importance– a man like Spencer was someone of importance, after all. In your mind, you can imagine him walking into an office down by the Financial District, working with big corporations as an advisor. Yes, you can absolutely see him as some sort of advisor or consultant, but something about him working in finances doesn’t sit right with you– he is yet to talk to you about crypto investments and how to better implement a payment system into the store. Shaking your head, you switch it up. Financial services, aren’t quite right, but maybe an editor, working in a publishing house. With the way he devours books and how well-rounded his personal library was, you could see him as a Publishing Director instead, reading manuscript after manuscript.

The thought of him reading brings a smile to your face. In his living room, there is an armchair that sits next to the large window on the west wall of his apartment– he says he likes how the sunset hits and makes the pages look warm and golden, turning words into a burning fire of knowledge– and you can practically see him there, blanket over his legs, books and books pilled next to it. It’s your own little secret, how every time you come over, you grab a book, any book, and you sit there for thirty minutes, forty, fifty, an hour; until the sun has completely set and you have to get up to turn the lights on.

Today, when you sit down, when you bring your knees up, when you drape the blanket over you, something feels incredibly right and incredibly wrong. On the pile of books next to you, right at the top, lays a copy of Gulliver’s Travels. If you remember correctly, which you usually do, last time you sat down at that spot you managed to read up to chapter five before the sun was gone. When you grab the book and you see the bookmark you gave Spencer the second time he visited the store, and you frown– usually, he’d pick up from where you left off. “How long has it been since you last came home, Spencer?” You muttered out loud, grabbing the book regardless. Because even when it breaks your heart to know something has been keeping him away from his precious nook, it fuels your heart to know he leaves your book where you can easily pick it up. To know he doesn’t mind you sitting on his armchair, to know he doesn’t mind you reading his books, to know he doesn’t mind you settling, somehow, in his house.

A knock on his door, however, breaks you away from your precious moment of rest and relaxation. For a moment, you can’t move, frozen in place light a kid that has been caught doing something wrong. It’s only when they knock again that you move, shuffling to the door to look through the peephole. “Who is it?” You ask, voice weak and shaky.

“I have a delivery for Spencer Reid.”

How silly you feel in that moment, hand over your heart as you take a deep breath in relief. Unlocking the door, you smile to the USPS guy. “Sorry, he isn’t home right now. I can take it for him.” All you have to do is sign it and close the door, but once you put the package on the counter and your eyes catch sight of a note scribbled on top of the box, all those butterflies inside of you slow down. And find perch. And for a second, make you miss them just like you miss him.

The first time you think Spencer might have a girlfriend is when he comes into the store with a certain look in his face. He is practically glowing and his eyes don’t leave his phone for a second. “What has you smiling like that?” You two are close enough to ask these kind of things now, making jokes about each other as if you have been friends for ages. “Or uh, who?” Even though you started the conversation, you want to end it now. There is a sour aftertaste in your mouth when you suggest another person to be cause of his happiness, and you know, right there and then, that that is just your jealousy speaking. At this point, you’ve been harbouring a crush on Spencer for the almost two months and there’s only so much a girl can take before exploding.

“Oh, it’s just a friend.” Somehow, this answer doesn’t settle you as much as you hoped it would.

The second time is when he brings a woman around. She is blonde, and loud, and colourful, and you eye her carefully. They are matching costumes, and for a second, without even saying, you already feel left out. It’s stupid, being this green over someone so pink. If Spencer was purple, and if you are green, than that woman was pink– she is happy and light and exciting. Next to her, you… well, you are as muted as his green walls. “Y/N!” He calls for you with such a big smile and you just don’t have it in you to pretend to be busy anymore.

“Hey Spencer,” It comes out quiet and a bit distant, but he doesn’t seem to notice, not with the way he is going back and forth on the ball of his heels. “And hello, ma’am. Welcome, I’m Y/N Y/L/N, the owner. Please let me know if you need any help.”

That day, you two barely talk, but that’s okay, because Penelope, as she introduced herself to you after you help her find a specific book on coding, speaks for both of you. She says that it’s lovely to finally meet you, and mentions how much she has heard about you, and you think this is a very cruel thing to do to your poor, squeezing heart. But you push through. You pretend you’re tired, you apologise for the distance, and you lie about a cough. It’s better if they stay away, you say, but Spencer doesn’t buy it. Instead, he buys Penelope her book and leaves with promises of coming back the next day with your usual coffee.

After that, you don’t see Spencer for two weeks.

It’s a bittersweet feeling when you get the text that he is back. After almost a week and a half without seeing him, you miss Spencer. He created a space for himself in your life and in your store, and when he is gone, it’s just not the same. But just like how he did, you created a space for yourself in his apartment. Suddenly, the muted green walls aren’t claustrophobic or smothering, but comforting. They are safe. Familiar. They are Spencer. And just like you said, you miss Spencer.

“Y/N!”

You should be happier to hear his voice, but it’s not the same. The fluttering in your stomach is still there, like a slow buzz trying to come alive, but it’s not the same. Not when the note on the box, flashing like neon signs behind your close lids, has been tormenting you and your poor heart ever since you made the mistake of opening the door. “Y/N? Are you here? The door says open…” At one point or another, you have to come out of hiding and face him. Delaying the moment, though, is the best defence plan you’re able to come up with– if you look into Spencer’s eyes, if you see that pretty smile he has every time he comes back from a work trip… you’re fucked.

“Y/N, I need you to tell me if you’re here!” It’s not the same.

His voice. It’s not the same.

Usually mellow and undulating, Spencer sounds stiff, like he’s holding something back. Something new. Something… heavy. There is an edge to him right now, so sharp and cutting that it has you stepping out from behind the Science shelf in pure curiosity. And just like people say, curiosity killed the cat. In this case, however, it almost kills you.

When you turn the corner to find him by the door, the first thing you see is a man. He is tall and handsome and oddly serious. The way his brows are pulled together make you falter, steps slowing down and mouth opening to ask if he needs help.

That’s when you see it.

More like you catch a quick glimpse of it, the shinning spark of metal to your side, and you do a double take. You have to do a double take. It’s like your brain doesn’t believe what you’re seeing, and you move your head so fast you feel your neck tensing up in that way that makes your eyes water. “WHAT THE FU– OH MY GOD!” There is no way to throw yourself against a wall graciously, arms over your head and fear written all over face. You land in an awkward angle and your shoulder takes the brunt of the shock, making you gasp in pain while your legs give our under you.

Of all the ways you’ve imagined Spencer, him holding a gun up to your head was never one of them. “Y/N!”

“Oh my god!” You think you might pass out– you’re breathing too fast and your chest is squeezing, squeezing, squeezing to the point of physical pain. There is a ringing in your ears, muffling the entire conversation between Spencer and the other man and even though you try, you can’t look up; you’re frozen in a state of distress. For the first time since you met him, you’re scared of Spencer Reid. “I– I– Oh my god, I c-can’t– I can’t b-breathe, I can’t–“

“Y/N, look at me! Look at me, you’re okay, I’m so sorry, I’m sorry,” The moment his hand touches your shoulder, you’re shrinking away.

“Who are you?!” You manage to gasp enough air into your lungs to scream at him. One shake hand moves to the back of your neck, pressing down on the sore nape as you finally move to look at him, crying and all. “Spencer, who are you? Who is he? What is happening? Why do you have a gun in my bookshop, why–“

“Ma’am, I need you to take deep breaths,” The other man quickly holsters his gun and you actually think you might be going insane when flashes you a badge. “I’m SSA Derek Morgan, I work with Spencer. We are with the FBI.”

Federal Bureau of Investigation. Spencer is a fed. And he never told you.

“The FBI…?” You whisper, eyes going wide and breath hiccuped in your throat. “S-Spencer, you work for the FBI?” Nothing about this makes sense to you. The gun, forgotten in his left hand and now pointing down and away from you, is all you can look at. The gun that looked heavy and cold. The gun that those hands hold– the same hands you’ve wished and, admittedly, dreamed of holding yours instead. The gun, the gun, the gun.

The gun. You’ve never seen a gun before, not this close. In museums, of course, and in movies and shows, but never in real life. You don’t have interest in it either, having voted, without fail, for anti-gun laws and representatives. Anything and everything about this, about seeing him with that deadly weapon, feels wrong, and you really think you might be sick soon.

“Kid, put it away, you’re freaking her out.”

Then is when you catch sight of the Spencer you know. It’s the clumsy actions, looking almost freaked out himself– his hands fumble with the holster and it takes him a couple of tries to fit the gun properly. That’s when you know for sure– you are going to be sick. “Trash,” You mumble, trying to get up but falling again and again. “Trash, pass me the–“ But there is no time and you throw up right there and then, between the cashier and the nonfiction section.

“What just happened?”

“Morgan, get her some water– there, over the counter,” The rapid successions of words make you feel a bit better, a cadence of tone and rhythm that has your hands finally stabilising. “Y/N, you’re in shock. Adrenaline kicked in and left, and you pressured crashed, which is what made you nauseous. You need water, and to come sit by the counter.”

It’s funny, how in any other circumstance, you’d be ashamed and embarrassed to have gotten ill in front of him. As far as you know, Spencer is a germaphobe and this surely counts as germs. But as he grabs your hands, gentler than you’ve ever seen him grab any book in your store, and brings you to your chair behind the counter, you wonder if he forgot or simply doesn’t care. Both options don’t make sense. “Spence, what is going on?” Your voice comes out winey and rough, and there is no way to hold back the pained wince when you feel the sting spreading through your throat. Sip by sip, you try your best to drink the water and soothe yourself, but nothing seems to help.

Nothing until you hear him next to you, small and quiet and, dare you say, meek. “I’m sorry.”

As much as you’d like to tell him he has nothing to be sorry for, he does. “I see…”

“It was just… it was new, having someone not know I’m FBI,” His thumbs play with each other and you’ve known him long enough to recognise that Spencer is nervous. “And we started getting closer and I just didn’t find an opportunity to tell you.”

“There were plenty,” You clarify, feeling a bit of a bitch for the bite in your voice making him gulp. “But it’s okay. I’m not… I’m not anything of yours, I guess, so it’s okay. You don’t owe me anything.”

“Don’t say that. You’re my friend.” That hurt.

“Do you point a gun at all your friends or am I just special, Spence?” It is supposed to be a joke, but the memory makes your bottom lip start wobbling again and you feel stupid. You feel so, so incredibly stupid right now that you can’t even begin to explain why. “Sorry, I’m just– I’m not okay.”

“I know, and we’re sorry,” There is such raw honesty in his words and he manages to make you smile a little. Your hand is still shaking, but you stretch it out towards him regardless. It’s a conscious decision to hold onto his wrist, covered by his jacket, than to reach out for his palm, and from the way he looks at you, you know he recognises the effort. “But you need to come with us.”

“Why?” You cry out, a single tear coming out of the corner of your eye. At this point, the shock is going away and you’re more overwhelmed than anything else. You’re scared and confused and overwhelmed and it’s his pulse, beating again and again, that brings you back to Earth. “Why do I need to go with you? What is going on?”

“Y/N, when you were housesitting for me, you received a package, right?”

In the midst of everything, the memory of that day, that box, that note, all fade. Frowning, you shrugged. “The delivery man knocked and said he had a package for you… I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to intrude, I–“

“No, no, no, you didn’t, you didn’t. Please.”

“Ma’am, when you signed for the package, did you use your name?” The man, Morgan, ask, and all you do is nod. Of course you signed with your name. “Kid, we need to take her to the office now.”

“I am not going anywhere until you tell me what’s going on!”

Finally, some energy in you. Some strength. Your voice echoes in the empty shop, and the chair tips back when you stand up on stiff legs. Looking at Spencer is hard, when you feel the burning of your rage inside, but you still do; you still meet those pretty brown eyes, you still stare him down until you practically force the answers off of him. “The package… did you see who it was from?”

“Spencer, are you insinuating you’ve pointed a gun at me because I read a message your girlfriend wrote on the package she sent you?! Because I didn’t mean to– I didn’t! It just… It was there, right at the top and I–“

“She is not my girlfriend,” He immediately cut you off, hands waving in front of him in a visual demonstration of desperate denial. “Not at all! I don’t have a girlfriend! I was–“

“We can deal with this later,” Morgan is quick to interrupt, sighing as he looked at you. “Y/N, we re really sorry to disrupt you like this, but this is for your own protection. Please lock the store and let’s go.”

It takes time for you to gather everything you need. You are not a disorganised person by any means, but suddenly, you can’t remember where you put what. Your bag is thrown under the cashier, and your keys are, for some reason, in the Fiction shelf. Your glasses are in your head the entire time, and Morgan has to point that out to you. The more you look, the more flustered you get, yet somehow, you make it to the car. Morgan is driving and Spencer is on the passenger seat, and the way they keep talking to each other using words that make no sense to you make you want to scream. “Spencer.”

The heaviness of his name, said with such emotion,, lingered in the air. His eyes meet yours through the rearview mirror, and he nods. “Yeah?"

“Spencer,” You whisper again, eyes wide in shock as reality starts to dawn. “Spencer, if she’s not your girlfriend, then who the fuck is Cat Adams?”

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

AAAAAhhhhh I'm trying something new >.< I've been a massive criminal minds fan for a long, long time and Dr. Spencer Reid has my heart <3

Please let me know what you think, this is my first Spencer fic and I'd love if it got to turn into a series!

1K notes · View notes

fillinforlater · 9 months

Text

Maknae Royale

Male Reader x Jang Wonyoung, Wang Yiren, Lee Gahyeon, Park Sujin (Swan), Jeon Somi, Shin Yuna, Kim Yerim (Yeri), Im Yeojin (9some)

Length: 10.000 words

Tags: live action porn, porn game, fucking for points, Team Battle Royale, squirting kink, edging kink, bimbofication, brat taming, doggy, fingering, face riding, blue balling, jerking you off, titfuck, standing sex, step-bro I'm stuck, anal, creampie, anal creampie, eating out, blowjob, face fucking, deep throat, rough sex, missionary, full nelson, against the wall, piledriver, mating press, overstimulation, porn_star!you / porn_rookies!idols

TW: even after editing, this is messy and chaotic and pure sex lol

Inspiration: the idea of a Maknae focused fic is not new, but I just went all in. This is also based on this vote I send out a while ago lol. I think I can name drop @writerpeach cuz I remember him saying sth like that.

Credit: @erospandemos for the cover art! Thabk you very much!

(A/N: One year after C.Ollection, I'm trying my best to celebrate and repeat that craziness, have fun! The beginning is a reference to Labyrinth of the Six. This is the same universe but not a sequel!)

"I was looking for copper and I found gold!"

You turn off the purring engine of your car. It is clearly not as nice as the purring of the girl you were in balls deep mere minutes ago, but let's be honest, those purrs should not be compared; one is mechanical, the other borderline maniacal. You let out a sigh as you kill the annoying lights in your car to focus on the call you just accepted.

"Hi, is this really how you're greeting me?" you respond, letting your fingers glide over the steering wheel as you watch a single car pass by in the middle of this warm, humid night.

"Oh, man, stop complaining!" the director says and laughs. You can hear him type something on an old keyboard, each tap of his fingers obnoxiously loud. "I'm going to give you the opportunity of a lifetime—something this great, it needs no greeting."

You rub your nose, then the inside of your eyes filled with tiredness and exhaustion. She was needy tonight, you gave her two rounds, 140 minutes of a hard pounding until the clock struck a merciless 3am. Yes, you were counting the minutes, it was necessary. Otherwise Jiwon’s cunt would have drained you early, which is unbecoming of a porn actor of your caliber.

"Look," you halt the director's enthusiasm with a groan. "I'm doing good right now. Money—I got enough; my love-life is good too. Maybe I'll take a break for a couple of months until my next—"

"No, listen!" he shouts in absolute excitement, like he has been enlightened by the truth. "This script, it's so fucking good! It lit a fire in me, I can already see the setting, the actresses, you—it's perfect. This can even top your Labyrinth performance—you remember, the six hotties—"

"Of course I do!" There you go. Your heart beat is picking up in tempo. How could you forget the pleasure, the absolute thrill of having sex with six gorgeous women at the same time? Don’t kid yourself, this already felt like one in a million—to flat out reject another offer that could be of this magnitude would be absolutely foolish. “Fuck it. Send me the script, I’ll get back to you.”

“Oh, you will,” the director says, absolutely certain that you will accept in a heartbeat after reading this ominous script. “I’ll start looking for actresses.”

The script is complex, wild, otherworldly—implementing it took weeks of preparation. Luckily, your part in this clusterfuck is rather simple: be hard, go hard and stay hard. The first two are deeply rooted within you. Seeing the girls’ incredible faces and even greater bodies has you ready to get a raging erection at any time, while some of their slutty mannerisms and lewd words dripping from their tongues like venomous drool urge you to go as hard and rough as you can. Hell, they’ll basically beg for you—why would you hold back?

The only issue is that there are too many of them. No matter how hot they are or how horny you are, at some point there is nothing left. You will be drained and there is no shame in admitting defeat to them. So once again, you’ll have to resort to some performance enhancers to stay hard like a diamond while drilling into cave after cave. It’s a pink pill this time, tiny, you barely notice it, both in the palm of your hand and in your throat. Take a deep breath and feel it surely doing its job already.

You open your eyes in the midst of a studio room that looks like a submarine. Dim light, large, black holes around you, each with a large porthole-like door in the middle; it feels gloomy, mysterious, unsettling. A single camera is pointed at you, live streaming each droplet of sweat running down your face. Feel the artificial warmth of a nearby heater creep up your thin clothes, giving you chills. It cannot match the heat within you.

The red light atop the camera turns off. Sixty seconds from now, one of the portholes will open. The glass in them is blurry, obscuring any view of the chaos happening behind them. You of course know the script inside out, but the girls’ are still somewhat unknown. You’ve never seen them face to face, only in zoom calls, their bodies looked fantastic and because they are rookies, they should also be tight, but you don’t know how they will handle the pressure, all the eyes on them, the revealing outfits, the unbridled sex—

Around thirty seconds now. You grab your trousers and feel blood rushing out of your legs. Feet tingle, the tips of your fingers as well. This pill, it has your heart racing somewhere, racing from something, to anything. Eyes tremble, vision blurrier than the glass before you, behind you, around you.

You’ve never felt more alive and dead at the same time.

With a loud hiss, the porthole to your left swings open, wide open, flooding your entirely empty room with copious amounts of fog and the smell of fresh fruits. The vibrant color scheme of pastel pink, magenta, light purple and white fills your view as you step into what looks like Princess Peach’s private castle, its kitchen, living room and bedroom. It’s like one explosion of cuteness and innocence, quite charming, very fake.

“Oh, he’s already here. Look, Barbie!”

“That’s not my name, Yiren. Hello, handsome stranger!”

The two girls fit the concept of the room perfectly. Such bright smiles, happiness pouring from their cute little faces; you knew they would nail this performance the moment you saw their pictures and heard their voices. Wonyoung, the tall girl with her incredibly long legs truly looks like a Barbie doll: tiny ribbons adorn her endless chocolate hair while the pink crop top and straight denim skirt make you want to play with her all night, undress her everywhere.

Yiren on the other hand blends in with the room to such a degree, you’d assume they cannot be sold separately. The chinese girl boasts hair the color of peaches, her tight white dress sparkles because of small, silver details spread across it, while her face leaves no doubt that she is, in fact, a princess.

The two get closer to you, before Wonyoung starts to speak up again, her voice in a sassy, yet genuinely adorable pitch.

“Aw, are you shy? No need to be, we’re all here to have fun. Isn’t that right, Yiren?”

“You’re right, Barbie. Let’s play some games and make it a night we won’t forget,” Yiren adds, quieter and calmer than Wonyoung, with a smile that warms the heart.

“S-sure,” you respond to the two girls bouncing up and down in front of you like hyped up kangaroos. “B-but what are we going to play?”

“You see,” Wonyoung starts. “Yiren and I are a team and we have a mission to fulfill. Can you help us?”

“I’d love to, but what is the mission?”

Yiren turns towards Wonyoung, who’s already grinning at her. They share a nod and Yiren suddenly wraps herself around one of your arms, while Wonyoung occupies the other. Feel their slender bodies rub on your limbs, their natural heat and rapid heartbeats working towards your own, increasing it with every step they guide you towards a bed in the corner of the room. It’s at least double queensized, filled with pillows, blankets and stuffed animals.

“Let me explain it to you,” Wonyoung says and climbs atop the purple sheets. “Our mission is to make this bed as wet as possible.”

“Well that sounds easy,” you respond. “Just get some tap water and dump it on here.”

“That’s what I thought too,” Yiren whispers in your ear and suddenly places her hands all over your back and chest.

“No tap water, only natural juices are allowed,” Wonyoung hums and her hands casually open her skirt. It falls on the bed and she is quick to kick it away. She looks even more tempting and ruinable in her tiny tight panties with a wet teddy bear on the front. “We need your help to get these juices out of us, pretty please?”

“Yes, pretty please?” Yiren adds and cups the bulge in your pants. “It will be so much fun, I promise. Doesn’t Barbie look tight? Don’t you want to fuck her until she bursts?”

“Fuck, yes.”

“Splendid,” Wonyoung laughs and throws away her crop top as well. Meanwhile Yiren finds the hem of your pants and tugs them down oh-so easily, the only resistance is your hard member, which Yiren promptly points at her team partner who has her legs spread invitingly.

She’s so hot.

As if she read your mind, Yiren tempts you into finally going hard:

“She looks so hot. Go fuck her.”

Like a tiger desperate for food, you crawl onto the bed and tackle your prey into a mountain of teddy bears. Your fingers find the very specific teddy bear on Wonyoung’s panties, you push it to the side to find a pink slit. A final look at her glistening eyes before you press your cock onto her equally glistening slit and after some adjustments, you enter her.

Wonyoung shrieks cutely, her thin fingers wrap around your biceps’ and she holds onto them as you start to slowly pump into her. The two of you need time to realize where you are, what you’re doing, how you’re doing it. All acting for the camera is gone in this bliss, at least for a couple of seconds. Then it all comes back with Yiren, eagerly who jumps on the bed as well.

“You need to hurry up, we don’t have forever.”

You slip a hand under Yiren’s dress to quickly shut her up. No panties.

“How about you start helping, princess,” you fight back. “Go rub Wonyoung’s clit while you ride my fingers. Oh, and Wonyoung.”

“Ye-yes?” the young girl moans.

“Open your mouth wide. I need you to drool on these.”

Both Yiren’s pussy lips and Wonyoung’s normal lips—though their lusciousness and thickness is far from mere ‘normal’—part as soon as your fingers graze them. The latter is quick to slobber all over them while you recklessly pump them into her; Yiren still has reservations and instead opts to look at you with adorable glassy eyes.

“I-I feel so full,” she moans, shivers throughout her entire body. You softly smile at her and start to curl your fingers, purposefully dragging them alongside her walls while your palm reaches her clit. “Ah, i-it feels—”

Holy shit. Whatever chemical they put into this pill, it has a tendency to just kill your patience. In what can only be described as a loss of all control, your body only moves towards fulfilling the mission. Your fingers start to violently pump into Yiren’s pussy and Wonyoung’s mouth, both quickly spilling liquids out of them. Especially Wonyoung, the Barbie girl below you, becomes a dispenser of juices when you violently fuck into her tight pussy.

“Too fast, ah!” Yiren screams, her hands wrapped around your wrist, unable to prevent the surge of lust in your body.

“Fuck, sorry. I can’t stop me.” You groan, not really sorry about the stuff happening to you, to them and—oh God! Wonyoung’s tiny frame, those cute hard abs, get bulged by your massive erection. A bit of skin and muscles, pushed up by your relentless thrusts, and she is also seeing it. Is she panicking, losing her mind to how you violate almost her entire body?

Her pussy is quick to give you an answer: like a broken, public fountain, she shoots water at you, suddenly soaking your body in her warm pussy juices. With their strong, lewd smell they are the perfect liquid to stain the sheets, more than your balls or her drool can produce. Much to your dismay, most of the nectar gets stuck on you.

“Fuck, turn around,” you command the thin fuckdoll and because she is too enamored by her heavy orgasm—her tiny thighs and long legs trembling up high in the air—you grab her hips and spin her around. Now in Doggy, you keep her upright by pulling her chestnut colored hair and plunge back into her still twitching cunt.

Wonyoung is completely overwhelmed. Instead of the cute, girlie moans you’d expect from her pretty lips, she grunts uncontrollably, her voice still hoarse from your fingers that played with her mouth. The grunts, however, are nothing compared to the wet sounds coming from her pussy as you thrust into the warm cavern, desperate to get more out of it.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” both you and Wonyoung groan. The tips of her fingers dig deep into a soft stuffed toy while yours knead her soft butt. The sight of it is amazing; not a big dumpy, like you’ve seen on countless actresses, but so flawlessly smooth with an impossibly tiny asshole you one day need to get your tongue into.

“Pl-please, me-me too.”

Yiren crawls closer to you, her skirt pulled up, her cunt a leaking mess that needs something inside it. The live action fucking in front of her has her on the edge, ready to do her part to fulfill the mission, but you are too mesmerized by Wonyoung.

“Wony, lick her pussy. Get your tongue into her, fuck!” you shout, lost in your frenzy.

The barely thinking, barely functioning Barbie gets her hands onto Yiren’s thighs, at first only breathing, hissing, moaning into the princess’ crotch. It’s enough for Yiren to finally take the lead, forcing Wonyoung’s face straight onto her puffy lips, and the younger surrenders. She kisses and licks all over Yiren’s delicious cunt, the bundle of nerves atop it never left out. Yiren shudders.

“Oh God, oh Go~d, fuck!”

Yiren is louder than a fucking bomb when she explodes onto Wonyoung’s face and more importantly, the bed. Her nectar splashes all over the sheets, their color darkening beneath her knees. Finally, the three of you have made significant progress, and you are eager to make more. Especially Wonyoung seems to be more turned on than before; her pussy is even tighter, her walls ripple as she continues to eat Yiren out.

“You like that, huh? Your face deep in her pussy?” you ask her and give her cute ass a firm spank. “Such a dirty princess!”

“Yesh!” Wonyoung shouts, pressing her behind into your pistoning cock.

“You like my cock fucking you senseless, getting into your insides? You want it all, deeper?”

“Yesh, pleash!”

“Try to push me out, Wonyoung, squeeze me with your stupid little pussy!”

“Ah, shit, fuck! I’m—”

Yiren shuts her team partner up by grinding on her face. It’s enough to send Wonyoung into an orgasmic frenzy—again—and the moment you pull out, she squirts—again—everywhere. It was amazing, absolute bliss for you, but you are not there yet. You need to cum, inside a hot, clenching hole and so you disrupt the two princess’ love making.

Yiren fits perfectly into your hand. She is almost as light as Wonyoung, so you pick her up and place her on the head of the bed. The young woman is still frozen in surprise, her eyes uncertain, then shocked when you spread her legs wide and align your cock with her pussy.

“Oh God, it’s t-too big,” she whines even before you’re inside her.

“You can take it, Yiren, you’re such a good and pretty princess,” you mindlessly groan as you stare at her, then her nipple peeking out above her increasingly bunched up dress. “Now cum all over me.”

Yiren is too easy. Only a few strokes of your cock alongside her velvety walls and her entire body ripples. It starts with her cunt, soon goes to her torso and limbs, before she squirts like a broken garden hose. If the bed was a garden, countless flowers would bloom in it—and Wonyoung wants to make sure you stay to help them.

“You have to stay,” she whines. “Stay inside her and make her cum again.” She pushes you, forces you to almost slip inside Yiren again. From the corner of your eye however you see a red light, the indicator that you have to switch scenes right now.

“I think I did enough.” You pull away Wonyoung’s slender arms and Yiren’s feet trying to get you back inside her. “Get some toys or use your fingers. I’m not playing for your team, you need to play together.”

Yeah, sure, something like that was in the script. Luckily, even these two remember that the show must go on. At least Wonyoung does. The Barbie gets handsy, waving you goodbye while plunging her beautiful, long fingers into Yiren's cunt. What a waste that you won’t cum on those digits tonight.

"Have fun~" Wonyoung cheers as you disappear from her view, towards the next porthole which is already open.

Before you can take in the next setting fully, a nude, masked woman greets you by pulling your face down into her sizable cleavage.

"Quick, get him in here," another voice, feminine yet deep, straightforward yet mysterious, calls and you feel hands all over your body, as they drag you into the room. You only catch glimpses of its interior, a dark, unsettling dungeon with iron bars and cold, smooth walls, akin to the setting of certain Japanese videos you—a friend of yours—used to watch—for scientific reasons.

"Here, pin him down."

That voice just now is truly incredible, if only you could see who it belongs to. Unluckily, you only get to see the ceiling as four hands throw you onto a table. Those two are strong, you think, because your back hurts at the impact.

Suddenly, your view gets replaced by a smooth pussy and jiggly thighs trapping your head on the wooden surface. You take deep breaths, the strong smell of arousal quickly filling your nose. A finger boldly flicks your cockhead.

"Oh, you're really turning him on, Gah," the other woman says, your pulsating cock in her fist. "Ride his face, and I think we’ll get our first points soon."

"Wh-who are you?" you barely squeeze out, words drowned out by drowning in Gahyeon's pussy juice.

"I'm Swan, but we don't have time for that. We need to win this game, which is why you have to suffer.

"Sorry, by the way."

Before you can respond, Swan's fist goes up and down your length with the violence and speed of a raging tiger, ready to fucking destroy you. Tears spawn in your eyes, precum at your tip. She drives you to the edge and keeps you there with rhythmic pumps while you imagine her face in horny delight.

"Is he there yet?" Gahyeon asks, her voice raspy and cruel.

"Why don't you ask him?" Swan responds and twirls her tongue around your balls. You twitch.

Gahyeon lifts a leg and her deadly eyes stare through a terrifying mask right at you. "Tell me when you're about to explode,” she snarks and to put emphasis on her following words, she presses a long finger nail into your abdomen. “If not, I'll kill you.

“And start licking, for fucks sake.”

She plants herself back down before you can answer. She can live with your eager tongue on her thick folds as an analogical agreement. Through Gahyeon’s almost soundproof thighs you hear her passionate groans and Swan’s continuous spitting in her hands and on your cock to get you wet and ready for more of her soft hands.

You can’t deny that they are excellent. Yiren and Wonyoung both had tight, cozy holes, but something about Swan grabbing your dick and mercilessly pumping and twisting it makes your spine tingle. She quickly gets you to arch your back and moan into Gahyeon’s pussy, which has started to glide back and forth over your visage.

“Such a nice cock,” Swan moans. “Look at it, Gah! The head is already burning, I can feel that he’s close.”

Swan puts her second hand on your base and presses her lubed up palm on your underside while she starts to destroy your tip with violent pumps. She is a vicious succubus, trying to get your seed out efficiently without care for your sensitivity. With Gahyeon using your face like a saddle, your mind is left on hold when you loudly tap the table to signal your imminent arrival.

“Swan, now!”

The moment Gahyeon shouts, Swan is gone. No more delicate fingers to hold you, no more fists to jerk you, nothing to stimulate you. You thrust your hips up into air, unable to cum, unable to get your well-deserved release. Those fleeting seconds where you want only one thing are absolutely ruined by not getting this one thing—and then it’s over. You come back down with a devastated sigh.

“That’s one,” Gahyeon says and looks down at you in between her legs. “But we need more.”

“I agree,” Swan says, adjusting her position in between your shivering legs. “Get him to cooperate, I’ll do the rest.”

Gahyeon once again is faster than your attempts at remonstration. She puts her small hand on your throat and carefully increases the amount of weight on it. You gasp in dread before Swan places your still hard cock in the valley of her enormous tits. The valley then turns to a compressed trap where only your glans peeks out.

'Oh fuck', you want to, need to scream but it's futile with Gahyeon's enthusiasm to rub her labia on your lips. Swan shows a very similar need to torture you, her hands eagerly digging into the flesh of her melons and moving them up and down—both at the same time, then at different times, faster, then slower but with more pressure—is she trying to get you killed?

Death by titfuck. That will be an eyecatching epitaph.

"Do it faster," Gahyeon orders her teammate emphatically. "We need to get the score up."

"I know," Swan says, her voice a bit strained. "It's just unfair, you know? Getting him ready again and all that. But I think, fuck, we’re getting there. Look at his tip, isn't it cute?"

Swan licks the slit on your cockhead, cleaning the precum from it and you have to tap out again. You are so close once more, but a terrible gut feeling lets you doubt that you will cover Swan's tits with your cream. You’ve never felt so sick about being right, when she pops you free from the heavens between her large breasts.

They are right there, God dammit.

"That's number two!" Swan gleefully shouts and looks at your pole, pointing at the sky, sensitive and ready to explode, but your balls turn blue again. This can't be healthy, with how frustrated it makes you.

"Use your mouth this time, Swan—"

"Oh yeah? Why don't you do something for once?"

"Huh? We agreed on this earlier! I'm doing my part! Look, he can't even say a word."

"Pl-please," you interrupt the girls' discussion. "Let me, please, let me cum already!"

"Sorry, pal." Swan's voice is soft, and her tongue on your dick is even softer. "But we need to ruin you even more. That's how we're going to win."

"Th-then ruin your own orgasms," you plead with numbness in your mouth, caused by Swan's mouth on your barely numb manhood. "Th-this is cruel."

"He's got a point," Gahyeon thinks out loud. "Ah, fuck this game. If you can get me close, boy, I'll let you escape."

This might be your only chance to get out of this vicious cycle of ruined orgasm and painful edging. So you actually channel all your focus of your lips, tongue and teeth—whatever Gahyeon likes—on her clit. It's surprisingly easy to make her thighs around your ears squirm; Gahyeon's pussy is now wetter than Swan's mouth wrapped around your cockhead.

Suddenly, Swan gives you everything. She forces you to bottom out in her mouth, grow to full hardness once more while she violently gags. She might have been in absolute control over you for the last couple of minutes, but she is perfectly able to make her mouth a slutty hole for your cock. A soft, dominant deepthroat queen with massive tits—she is going to be a super star.

In a surge of ecstasy, fueled by Gahyeon's sweet juice, you buckle your hips upwards and force Swan to choke a little longer on your length. The young woman is not irritated however. After a single breathe she is back to going up and down you cock, sucking along it until your fucking dead.

You know she's going to ruin it again and the only way to pay them back is by ruining Gahyeon's orgasm as well. You finger the pussy above you and quickly flick the blood-filled lips and nub, until she cries out. Then you stop, then Swan stops. She is the only one satisfied—another two points for her team.

You blink a couple of times. Gahyeon, groaning like an enraged bull, has the busty Swan pinned to the metal bars of this dungeon and with all her hatred, slaps the younger's wet cunt.

"Now it's your turn, bitch!"

"Ouch, stop!"

"No. I want to win and you want to win too, so you better ruin yourself on my fingers. Now!"

This is your cue to leave. The dungeon fills with Swan's deep grunts and groans as she finally gets to witness what she put you through again and again and again. You'd love to help Gahyeon; there will be no need for it though. The masked girl is willing to do whatever is necessary to win.

Across from the dungeon, the second to last door is already open. The room mimics a dimly lit laundromat with a dozen or so washing machines. You step inside, cock in your carefully stroking hand. After all, you’ll have to be hard for the next scene, which will be the complete opposite of the last.

“Hello? Can somebody help me?” someone cries (let’s be honest, it’s much closer to a desperate moan) from behind a pile of freshly dried laundry atop a clothes rack. There is a sincere lack of intelligence in that cry, like said person is unable to help themselves. Makes you feel chivalrous.

“Hey, how can I—help you?”

The sight you find behind the pile has your speech a bit halted, interrupted by how, in a room made for washing clothes, someone is severely lacking them: A gorgeous, busty blonde, in nothing but modest, white underwear, though you notice that the bra is at least a size too small and unable to fully carry the weight of her tits.

"Oh, please help me," she moans again. "I think I've picked the wrong bra for me. Can you help me cover so no one can see my boobies while I look for the next?"

What the fuck? This is so fucking stupid on so many levels. How could she—and why would she suggest—what is even happening? The cliche about blondes must be true, because this one is not only dumb as fuck, but also hotness at it's peak. From bust to bottom, no, even to her toes, her body is amazing and tempting.

"Uhm, sure, why not. Can I know your name first?" you politely ask while not so politely getting behind her and cupping her breasts.

"I'm Somi. Thank God your hands are so big, no one can see my boobies now, hihi."

Is it innate for her to sound this silly? If not for this setting, you’d be worried; no human can ever be this stupid, only a buffoon would act in such a way. But maybe Somi’s IQ is just a bit lower than the average person—or maybe she knows no boundaries? The rules of public decency and inappropriate, sexual exposure might be foreign to her? You don’t know. You just know that her boobs are soft and bouncy, two handfuls of pillows to rest your head upon, of stress balls to knead when you are, you know, stressed.

You seem to know a lot more than her, especially because she still tries to find a bra able to hold up her breasts in the midst of clothes which all have two things in common: they are colorful and they are skimpy. It’s like the laundry of a whorehouse with how many short and skin tight skirts, dresses, fishnet stockings you find, let alone the short tops or all the lingerie. Speaking of which, Somi has finally found a bikini top that might be able to do the deed your hands are gleefully doing.

“Do you think this one is good?” she asks, holding up a new, purple bra while you slightly press at the bottom of her tits to watch them wobble on your finger tips.

“Try it out, because I’m not so sure with your massive boobs.”

Somi giggles and tries to put on the bra. You leave enough room, really, you do, for her to tie up the thin strands, but Somi is unable to. She mewls a couple of times before you go in and securely tie up the strands yourself. You are promptly rewarded, because the blonde decides to bend down and press her ass back against your crotch, your exposed cock, rapidly hard again at the touch of her cotton panties.

“Thank you, again,” Somi says and pushes her chest up for all to see. “What do you think, is this good?”

“Somi, is it possible that you are fucking stupid?” Oh, that sounded a lot harsher than it should have. The tension is quickly palpable. You hear someone gasp from the other end of the room.

“W-why?” Somi’s question is abashed, a bit shocked; even in this state of complete bimboness, she still looks so good.

“Because these bottoms don’t fit your top,” you say and pull at the side of her panties until they snap off of her hips. “You should change them. White and purple don’t fit together all too well.”

Somi looks down at her cleavage, the purple lace engulfing her tits, then to her thighs which have been parted by your cock. The tip peaks from in between her legs and you softly groan out the pleasure her perfect gap gives you into her ear. There is no mere hint of slickness from her heat, there are ridiculous amounts of evidence of it, proof spreading all over. It’s a clear case of horniness, you better resolve the issue immediately.

“You’re right,” Somi mumbles, thighs swaying. “I should look for the right bottoms. They should be in here.” Things couldn’t get any better, because now Somi is bending over, hands in the pile of clothes, while your hands are in the plentifulness of her ass. You hold her steady, align your cock with a hole that looks so ready to get fucked and then push forward. Somi almost stumbles forward, but you save her from making an even greater mess of this place by continuing to make a mess out of her.

“Oh God,” she moans, a pink crop top in hands. “I-I can’t find it.”

“Continue, continue searching,” you groan back and slam your hips forward, then backwards, your cock entering and exiting her cunt at will—your will is strong, overpowering every small exhaustion in chase of that first true release of this messy pornographic shoot, a shoot where teams fight to win, yet this “team” does not even have a target goal.

Somi’s goal is to be stupid, oblivious to your cock gaping her pussy open time and time again, and for this being her first time on cam, she is excellent. Of course, her dumb moans can’t be deactivated, you doubt even a ball gag can fully do that, but a benevolent interpretation of this scene allows for these moans to be of desperation. Somi just really wants to find these purple bikini bottoms—your cock spreading her pussy and the camera lens on it is just a side product.

“Da-damnit, fuck,” Somi seems to give up, defeatedly grabbing the edge of the table while you hold onto her shoulders to get faster, deeper inside of her. “They are not h-here.”

“Maybe you need to take a step back and look at it from afar,” you tell her and all it takes is a pull at her shoulders and Somi stands straight up. From now on, your thrusts go upwards and Somi can casually bounce along while her dizzy eyes try to process the color purple amidst a pile so colorful, every pride parade would become envious.

Your arms instinctively wrap around Somi’s small waist. You need to keep her here, can’t let her get away, not when you are this close to finally cumming. Your balls are aching, your tip is stimulated and you know that it will be glorious. Somi’s body, from a face that could make news just for its beauty, paired with a pair of perky, large boobs, amplified by a tight, muscular midriff, killer hips and strong, full thighs, she has to be everyone’s type.

People will click on her videos millions of times, yet you are about to be the first to cream her, you can call dibs on that pussy, no male rival co-star stands a chance. Your cock is ready, your legs able to give more power into the final thrusts when suddenly—

“Oh, I found it!”

—Somi leans forward, hand stretched out, ready to grab what has always been on top of this entire pile, in your view forever, in everyone’s view forever, only Somi took forever to find it: purple panties. No, they can’t ruin your perfect orgasm. You heartlessly push Somi against the table, head first into the laundry. Her scream now muffled by a dozen of clothes in her face, you manically fuck your load into her doggy until cum floods her cavern and clothes flood the laundromat floor.

Every part of you is twitching, so is Somi and her pussy. A bit more, a bit more, she squeezes out of you, but she is full. In the midst of all this chaos, this silly, flushed bitch was able to grab the panties. You give her tits a harsh slap to awaken her from the cock induced slumber.

“Put them on, quick, before we make a bigger mess.”

Somi obliges, though shaky. You help her by holding onto her hips, her tits, all those things you could grab forever. When your shaft falls out of her pussy and you watch her catch most of your load with the tight panties, you want to push them to the side and just fuck her full pussy again. That’s when you notice someone down the aisle of washing machines—is it Somi’s teammate?

“Who the fuck is th—”

“Help, I’m stuck!”

This one is a classic. A trope so beyond stereotypical, everyone knows it. Just like the dumb blonde, this one can be found on every porn site ever. The only thing missing is that she calls you stepbro. That would be a bit too much though. Her ass sticking out of one of the washing machines while she absolutely tries to get back out of it is already cliche enough to you.

Oh yeah, she’s also completely naked.

“Oh no, Yuna is stuck!” Somi states the exposition for the viewer, who is utterly uninvolved in the engaging plot they stopped paying attention to since this video's thumbnail. “We need to help her!”

Somi waddles towards her partner. You see trails of cum running down her legs, unceremoniously dropping to the floor and making a lewd, sticky mess of it. She seems unbothered, just like you, and the camera absolutely loves it. The view then switches from this to a new, exposed and impressively large ass.

“Help, help,” Yuna shouts again, metallic reverberation unable to dampen the stupidness in her voice. You had filmed a scene like this one already, but there are no complaints whatsoever. As long as you can get your hands on Yuna’s ass, pull those cheeks apart and get the first view of those two smooth, clean holes, why would you complain?

“How did this happen, Yuna?” Somi asks worriedly, arms alongside Yuna’s frame, definitely ‘pulling’ on her teammate's waist, while your mind imagines all the ways you could rim Yuna for hours.

“I wanted to pull my underwear out of here,” she responds with a whine. “But now I am stuck!”

Go figure, she is brainless as well. Both of them are, but nature has instead given them the envy of millions of women: divine bodies that are effortlessly sexy and beautiful. Smooth skin, toned legs, curves to die for—in your admiration you notice that your energy is returning quicker than ever before.

It might not fit the story, the narrative, the game, but in this moment of bliss, you couldn’t care less. Knees bend, cock guided by your thumb, you press your tip against Yuna’s ring and find the entry into her asshole to be a lot easier than expected. Her moan bounces through the washing machine just like her boobs bounce in surprise.

Confusion has Somi frozen, her body only reacting when you put force in your thrusts, enough power to make Yuna hit her dumb head against the back of the washing drum. A profuse whimper made metallic, not that you care, but Somi seems to get back into the real world where she is still as moronic as before.

“H-how is this supposed to help Yuna?”

It’s not. Tell her that. Tell her and Somi will continue complaining like this without getting any pleasure from you. Serves her right, won’t make the scene any better though, thus you find her neck with your hand and find her eyes with yours. They sparkle knowingly.

“You really are the dumbest thing alive.”

A pull and Yuna is out of the drum. Blonde hair flows down her back, hides her frail shoulders and in the reflection of the metal drum you see her lips in a light, glistening pink. They are full and made for sucking. In the sea of her endless, golden hair, your hand twists and twists until Yuna voluntarily raises herself from the ground and arches her back towards you. Your goal is not to kiss her lips (though that would be one hell of an experience) but to drown her in Somi’s cleavage.

“What are you—Yuna! No, don’t pull it down, I-I just found it.”

Sweat evaporates from your temple when you see those lips wrap around one of Somi’s nipples and begin to lewdly suck on it. The thrill is engaging, Yuna’s ass invites you back in and it’s with ease that you fuck her puckered hole. You poke the depths of this suffocating cavern and Yuna begins to poke all over Somi’s body. The dumber blonde hesitates briefly, hands first on her thighs, then Yuna’s until she ends up below her friend.

“Now you are trapped,” Yuna giggles and drool leaves her mouth in purposefully large amounts, able to transform the valley between Somi’s tits into a canal.

“You two are so fucking stupid, fuck, fuck your hot bodies.”

You are starting to lose it, for every word they utter, your intelligence gets insulted but your arousal heightened. You spank Yuna’s ass and she tightens to the point where you need to give it your all to fuck her faster. What an odd time to notice that they haven’t told you their task yet. How can you help them get points? Shit, what was in the script again? Are you really that much smarter if you can’t remember?

“Yuna, Yuna, that feels so good,” Somi moans out and sways on the floor from side to side until you press Yuna right on top of her. With their incredible bodies entangled and you nonstop fucking into the tight ass, their sensitive spots have to rub each other, nipples on nipples, clits on clits, and Somi is the first to collapse. “Oh my God, I-I’m about to wet my panties, oh no, Yuna!”

“Me too, my butt, I’m going to cum from my butt!” Yuna’s silly fucked body, and her silly face and her silly feminine voice have you on the verge to become silly as well. Both blonde’s indulge in their wet, heavy orgasms and you push your tip back into Yuna so many times that you flood her with a pent up load that momentarily shuts down your brain.

So this is how they feel all the time—brainless but blissful. At least stupid bitches fuck good.

“Oh, Somi, there, there is so much in my ass~”

“Really? Can I feel it?”

Somi puts two fingers against Yuna’s puckered hole, but before she can get a scoop of your load that is still hidden in the tightly clenching butt, Yuna stands up. “No, Somi, ew,” Yuna shouts, moans, something in between, again. “You have to eat it straight from the butt, like this.”

You are back in the hub room, all the rooms finally open. Before you make your way to the last room, you decide to take a quick look into each scene you’ve already participated in that only users that buy the premium pass (which is off 69%, only today on k-jizzers.cum) can still watch:

In the first room, Wonyoung and Yiren sit on the edge of the bed, fingering each other's pussies until they violently squirt all over the mattress. Both of them look sweaty and exhausted, but they continue to drink water and share saliva to go for another round. Stay hydrated, everyone.

“Let’s do this, Barbie, I know your tiny body can cum again!”

“O-okay, b-but only if you kiss me.”

In the second room, Swan is fully naked, her backside turned to you. She is tied to the metal bars with handcuffs on both of her wrists. Below her is Gahyeon, thrusting a dildo up into that tiny tight cunt, while her own hole is stuffed with a loud bullet vibrator. They are really committed to this game.

“I swear, Swan, if you cum again, I’ll kick your ass, literally!”

“S-sorry, Mommy, I try, try, try—I’m so close!”

In the third room, well, those blondes finally found a way to snowball your cum, not from mouth to mouth, but ass to mouth. Yuna sits on Somi’s face, head thrown back, unable to not moan as your white spunk oozes out of her. Bon Appetit.

“Oh God, don’t put your tongue in!”

“But he tastes so good, let me be greedy this one time.”

The final room is a classroom, unmistakably. It has an old blackboard, a long desk for the teacher, smaller desks and chairs for the pupils. No matter when or where you’ve been to school, this will surely evoke memories of forgotten homework, endless lessons and bratty students.

“Ew, is that the new guy?” you hear someone complain from across the room, disgust in her voice, fingernails rapidly typing on her phone.

“Oh yeah, but what did you expect? At least he gives some big dick energy,” a response follows promptly, though this time they both look up from their phones and stare at you. You quickly find coverage behind the teachers desk to hide your manhood. A miserable attempt that has one of the girls outraged.

“Ayo, what the fuck? Do you think you’re some kind of teacher now?”

“Maybe he is here to teach us a lesson, lol.”

Did the girl on the left, in her messed up blouse and way-too-short checkered skirt, the waistband of a light brown thong on display, just like her midriff and navel—did she just say ‘lol’ out loud? Well, at this point the viewer will neither cringe or notice, too good is this material, too hot their bodies.

“Maybe he is here to teach you a lesson for breaking the dress code,” the girl adds as she approaches the desk.

“Yeri, you—you’re worse than me! Everyone can see your bra, what the fuck,” the other girl shouts and goes in for a slap on Yeri’s butt. The impact has you peeking out as a small melee breaks out.

“At least I tried, Yeojin, unlike you. Where is your skirt, your blouse? I can almost see your tits.” Yeri reaches for Yeojin’s chest, which is covered by this tiny, one piece swimsuit, so tiny in fact, even Yeojin’s small body seems to spill out of it. When there is so much shortness, of course Yeojin’s shorts are no different. Her shorts are actually shorter than Yeri’s skirt, which is already quite short—

“You tried?” Yeojin shrieks and tugs at Yeri’s blouse, accidentally undressing her. Who could have known, the bra below is actually a bikini top. “It’s falling off of your body.”

“Ts,

“Hey, you fucker! Get out already, we got some beef to settle.”

Yeri kicks the desk and you hear pencils roll down from it. They surely have not forgotten about you and your assumed big dick energy, so it was no use to continue hiding. You crawl out and straighten your posture, clearly taller than the two young women who don’t waste time looking up and gawking at the height difference. Both sets of hands go straight to your abdomen, your crotch, your cock. Yeojin is the first to pump, rubbing her fishnet sleeves carelessly over your sensitive tip.

“Watch it,” you hiss and get fistfuls of their hair, which to your surprise does not faze them at all. “You two are running your mouth, spewing bullshit. This is no way how you should treat people older and taller than you.”

Yeri frees herself easily from your grasp and you gasp when her knuckles dig into your stomach. It wasn’t really a punch, but somehow, she has you stunned. A smirk appears on her feisty features. “Watch it, asshole. This is our classroom, you’re the one below us. If you want some respect, don’t flex with your height. Flex with something else. Proof your worth.”

“O-oh yeah? And how should I do this?”

“Fuck us,” Yeojin casually says and pulls back the skin on your cock to the point it hurts and all the surging blood forces you to peak stiffness. “You get points for every position, the more creative, the better. Show us that this thing is more ‘do-er’ than ‘show-er’.”

Their eyes are the epitome of ‘fuck-me’ eyes, hell, they imagined fucked you the moment you entered, and in your mind, you’ve fucked them in every conceivable way possible. With all this imaginary fuckery, it’s about due time for the real fucking to start, though it’s definitely bugging you that these small, bratty girls get to start it off and lead the way.

Guess your positions have to be rough.

“Fine,” you sigh and get ready to push Yeojin down to her knees, but there is no need. She takes the short fall and her lips aggressively wrap around your tip before you can overthink your decision.

“No need to agree, it wasn’t up to you anyway,” Yeri laughs and you feel her fingers roam your upper body, everything from butt, back, nape to stomach and chest. She lingers there for a long time, cupping your pecs while you imagine cupping her surprisingly big tits—then Yeri dives in and starts to suck one of your nipples, while Yeojin bops her head back and forth.

“You tiny bitches.” They make it hard to breathe, their sluttiness and sloppiness is excellent, their enthusiasm matches that of Wonyoung. “You greedy, evil little things. You’ll regret that.”

“We’ll see about that,” Yeojin moans when your cock pops from her luscious lips and you’re back to receiving harsh, painful pumps from her fishnet clad hands. “What’s stopping you, huh?”

Nothing, really, so you don’t keep them waiting any longer. You reach into the back of Yeri’s bikini bottoms while simultaneously finding a good grip on Yeojin’s ponytail. A bit of adjusting on both ends, suddenly there is nothing but sounds of horniness, of rampant, uncensored sex. Well, there is of course a lot more than that, but who could think of anything else—

—but Yeojin’s cock-sucking lips sucking cock. They are the only thick thing on this miniscule rookie pornstar. You jerk your hips forward and her nose meets your base. You keep it that way as her tight throat struggles with your size and saliva spills from her lips.

Yeojin’s gags seem to turn on Yeri, her wet pussy dripping on your fingers as you rub it, never too fast, to keep her on the edge to—yeah, teach her a lesson. Look at that needy face, that heaving bosom, she is so desperate for more stimulation, but could never admit to it. Yeri’s pride keeps her from begging for your fingers to twirl inside her cunt.

“Is that really how you want to do it?” That’s as close to a beg as you will get from Yeri, nonetheless, you’ll give her more rubs. All this struggle is unbeknownst to the viewer, who can only see Yeri’ ecstatic face and wide open mouth as you finally insert two digits in her cunt. “That’s better, fuck.”

“Ride my fingers, Yeri. Impress me, and I’ll fuck you on the desk.”

“You, you will either way,” she chirps back, voice about to break when you thrust knuckles deep and curl, all while making Yeojin your sex doll.

Those gags of hers have become too dangerous though, so you take a step back and intensely watch as Yeojin coughs up lots and lots of saliva, letting it run down her pretty little face, her throat that was just stuffed like some obscene christmas chicken. In disbelief you watch her wipe her tears away and grin on, as if she wasn't just fighting for her life. Nothing can get Yeojin down, her brattiness is unreal.

Yeri does not seem amused at the lack of attention you give her. She pulls your hand out of her pussy and waddles towards the desk. In a burst of creativity, you grab her and slam her on the desk, on her back. Yeri winces in pain, but you already have her entrance exposed and filled before she can complain. And complain, she shall never again.

“Fuck, so big, be ca-care-ful!”

“Now that’s—oh God, you’re tight—now that’s not what I expected from you,” you groan manically, as you pin Yeri down with both your eyes and hands. “Shut up and take it. I want to see your tits bounce.”

Out of nowhere, Yeojin’s thin hand creeps under the thin string of Yeri’s bikini top and pulls it off. Finally, you can see those modest breasts swing freely while you do what you’re best at: plunging your fat cock into a wet cunt. Yeri moans, in a deep craze, deep pleasure, her hips grind in circles so you have to pin her down harder, hands in the soft flesh above those hips—just fuck faster and lose your mind.

“Yeri, your pussy looks so full,” Yeojin giggles and brushes stray hair out of her friend’s ecstatic face. “Don’t tell me you’re already about to cum?”

“No-no, never—”

“Oh great, cuz I won’t let you,” you promptly say and pull out of that stretched hole, gaped and absolutely desperate for an orgasm that was right around the corner. A few more pumps and Yeri would have been gone, her first on cam climax was so close.

But now it’s Yeojin’s turn. After all you want those points—or is it their points? You don’t care, you just hook your arms underneath her thighs and pick her up. She’s as light as she looks and her pink cavern is as snug as you anticipate. Yeojin holds onto your neck for stability, while you split her open further and further and when she leans into you, you feel your cock bulge her.

“Fuck, fuck, that’s the spot.” Use Yeojin like a fleshlight, an upgrade to her sex doll mouth, and she surrenders to the pleasure. Wasn’t this supposed to be Team Bratty or something? This is more—

“Team Cockhungry, absolute sluts,” you shout at her but Yeojin is just mindless and her lips quiver anxiously whenever you’re not guiding her small body up and down your cock. “Yeri, get on the wall. Present your ass to me, if you want this cock again.”

Yeri nods, only focused on you. She needs a second to find orientation again, while you make Yeojin lose all orientation as you spin her around and fuck her full nelson. An insane idea by the producers, stand and carry sex for the finale, but with a girl this small, it’s actually possible. You are still the unrestrained engine that pistons and pistons until Yeojin is ready to burst.

“Not yet, not yet,” you coo as you ruin yet another orgasm. A wet pop when you remove yourself from what could be a perfect hole for cockwarming, breeding and many other lewd adventures. The industry will empty their pockets to get a video with this pocket pussy girl. But for now, she is all yours and quite dismayed.

“You, you dick, better make it up later,” Yeojin says, voice deeply judgemental. It has to be ignored, because first, you have to make it up for a certain someone who wasn’t satisfied with your fingers or a short missionary fuck. Yeri needs you again, deep and hard, while her fragile legs try to keep her upright.

You watch the side of her face, the lip bite, the palms flaking off the wallpaper, the thighs trapping you and your cock is already on her labia. Yeri rubs her love juice all over your rod and you follow her plea and take the lead with a thrust that can be heard around the world.

“Fuck, it’s deep, your cock is deep in my pussy.” The disbelief in her voice sounds genuine, just like the attempt to crawl up the wall to drop back down on your cock. Yeri wants you to hit her cervix, finally cumming all over you but you need to savor this position more.

“Deeper than anything else.” A hand in her hair, you press everything of her against the wall. “I know you like it deep, your best spots are there. You’re a slut for large cocks, you only want them while standing up.”

“No, I need them to pick me up! Lift me up and fuck me, break me open deeeeep!”

Yeri must have been so envious of Yeojin. You might have picked the wrong girl to lift on high and fill from below. You can still make it up though; Yeri’s tits are repurposed as handles to pull her back onto your chest, feet suddenly flying. You might be blinded by strands of her hair all over your face, but you can still feel the weight of Yeri down on your cock, while you’re still drilling into her. She is getting higher, not only physically, but mentally. She loves nothing more than to be watched while a huge shaft fucks her. The stimulation sends her into a sea of bliss, a deep ocean, like the puddle of girl cum beneath your feet.

“I’m going to cum on your cock,” Yeri screams and tries to choke out a load from your balls, yet all she is choking you with is her hair on your face. “I love it, y-you can finish with me—”

The last time the camera captured someone cum so hard was about thirty minutes ago, either Wonyoung or Yiren, but unlike Team Princess next door, Yeri does it involuntarily. You pound the squirt out of her sloppy cunt until your legs become a slippery lubed mess and you almost slip on the cheap classroom floor. Yeri shouts and whines, the inside of her pussy still rippling when you pull out of it.

When you place Yeri back against the wall and feel the somewhat cold studio air brush past your erection, you realize that Yeri was close to getting you off too early. You are throbbing, surfing on the edge, almost getting blue balled. The only thing that can save you is Yeojin and the only thing you see is her ass, as she props herself up on all fours in between the chairs of—

Who counts chairs and who fucking cares? Just slam your cock into her ass and hear her screech in shock at the sudden fullness of her back entrance. There will be no ruined orgasm for you this time, Yeojin’s ass is your guarantee and you doubt her brattiness will return. Not when she moans so submissively. A question remains as you bury yourself repeatedly in Yeojin’s rectum: how can she be shocked when it's all lubed up and relaxed and eager to take you back inside like the pussy of a veteran porn star?

Yeojin really was born for this job. Her petite frame will be perfect for various porn sites related to kinks: size difference, stand and carry, small tits. The videos of her getting bulged will become legendary amongst the horniest or Reddit and Tumblr communities. Guys will have their way with her, her head will be spinning after some huge guys have her unconventionally spitroasted in the air or one of those tall, muscular women takes her for a ride on a strap-on.

They won’t have to worry about anal from her, because Yeojin takes it legendarily, narrowing at just the right time to go beyond the audio-visual perfection that is her penetrated ass—in simpler words, it feels as good as it looks. She can rival Yuna or maybe form some butt slut dream team, that’s how fucking amazing fucking her ass is.

“Yeri get back here, I’m close,” you promptly announce whilst scoring again by forcing Yeojin into a prone position and marking her shoulders with tender bites. Yeri struggles to find footing, only able to push forward because of all the tables and chairs. When she finally reaches you, you give Yeojin your final pumps as her entire frame is struck by an orgasmic earthquake.

In this day and age, everything has to be fast, even porn has to fit the 15 second shorts, reels, tiktok culture, so you start to cum in Yeojin and push Yeri to the ground at the same time. Then you reach for Yeri’s butt while holding back as many spurts as you can, to get her in this sweet piledriver and then paint both the outside and inside off her petite yet bubbly ass. It’s perfect for a short clip, that little teaser that plays when you’re about to click on the next JAV thumbnail on that shady site.

The HD or 4K settings across all screens can never do the real sight of a blissfully filled Yeri justice, as she eagerly spreads her own cheeks and everyone gets the awesome view of cum that seeps out of a gaped ass. The upside down (pretty, little, risky) baddie cleans off that hard-working cockwith her formerly bratty mouth. Deep exhales through her nose send a nice, warm stream of air around your base, which finally loses stiffness, the tension, it comes crashing down in the well-known post-nut clarity.

In this clarity however, you find Yeri’s final defiance; her lips will not let go of your cock and her tongue on your sensitive slit makes you curl your toes and whine out the agony which shoots up to your head like electric shocks. To top it all off, you feel Yeojin grin behind you when she wraps her slender arms around your midriff. This wasn’t in the script!

“The shooting might be over,” the tiny girl whispers. “But we are not done with you.”

“There are still a lot of points to be collected.

“And you will collect all of them.”

2K notes · View notes

sweet-as-an-angel · 1 year

Text

Miguel Having A Crush On You Would Include…

Warnings: Implications of Smut, Obsessive Miguel, Possessive Miguel, Implied Yandere Miguel, Miguel in Love, Vampire Marking, Marking (Kind Of), Fluff, Typical Crush Behaviour, Petnames/Nicknames, No Pronouns used for Reader Except ‘You’.

Him being absolutely OBSESSED with you.

Literally completely feral, down bad, infatuated, etc.

Initially, when he realised he’d started liking you in a romantic sense, he tried pushing you away; tried drowning his feelings in work, missions, Hell – even resolving petty spats between the Spiderpeople at the base. Anything to exorcise this rising feeling of butterflies in his chest whenever you were around. Vulnerability.

However, you were persistent.

You’d bring him lunch whenever you knew it would be a long day in the office for him, telling him that “Even the best superhero needs a sandwich every now and then!”

And by God were your sandwiches phenomenal.

Though he’d never admit it, his heart would skip a beat whenever the door to his office opened, knowing that it could be you paying him a visit with your delectable lunchables, or even just to check in on him. Make him feel special in ways nobody else had or could in years.

Eventually, this turned into a daily affair; one Miguel would watch the clock for, wait for. Long for.

Miguel also tried hiding his feelings when you brought him hand-crafted, love-filled desserts that he just couldn’t bring himself to ignore or throw away. Or, when Miles offered to take them off his hands, let anyone else have.

Eventually, there isn’t a day that goes by where you aren’t with him in some capacity. And it shows.

Whenever you’re late, even only by a few minutes, Miguel can feel his heart spike, asking Lyla where you are, if she can track you, etc.

“Sounds like you liiiike (Y/N)~” Lyla gives Miguel a knowing smile.

Miguel just grunts, ignores her. Though, he can feel the corners of his lips turning up, and hides them behind a well-placed hand, rubbing his temples.

Soft glances whenever you’re in the room, all his attention turning to you and you alone.

He just loves to stare at you. You’re so beautiful that he can’t understand why nobody else passing you has to stitch their dropped jaw back onto their face.

Then again, he is grateful. The fury that bubbles inside him whenever he catches someone glancing at you, gaze lustful, is all-consuming, enough to make his teeth grind, his eyes bleed a light rouge hue, piercing. He makes sure they’ll never cross paths with you again.

Gradually, your warmth and kindness thaws his walls, and, once the floodgates are open, neither you nor he can predict the dark ocean that is to flood your lives.

He doesn’t mean to throw himself full-force into his feelings, but after being so guarded for so long, he just can’t help it.

Becomes overly-concerned with every facet of your life. More so than he already was.

Constantly trying to find out information about you, though being stumped as to how to do so without arousing your suspicion.

Asks Lyla to track you, see what you’re doing, who you’re with, their relation to you.

However, she begins to deny Miguel such luxuries, telling him to “Grow a pair and ask (Y/N) yourself!”

When he realises Lyla is steadfast in her resolve, he does so. Reluctantly.

Though, once he starts, he finds it difficult to stop.

“Where are you going after work?”, “Are you going out tonight with anyone?”, “Who?”

Eventually, you just look up at him, seemingly oblivious to his growing desperation, and say: “Gosh, Miguel, you’re starting to sound like you’re my boyfriend or something!”

His heart stops. His throat dries and he just looks at you, eyes wide.

One second passes. Then two. Then–

“Oh– uh– yeah... I mean, not that that’s weird, right? Unless you think it is weird, then–”

Lyla has to step in and save him from himself, telling him he has ‘urgent business’ in one of the other wings of the facility.

His suit suddenly feels too tight and too hot beneath the collar whenever he has to speak with you alone.

And tight in…other places when his mind wanders to the more intimate aspects of your hypothetical relationship.

Miguel likes to rationalise this as him preparing how best to please you when the time, inevitably, comes for him to claim you, make you his. At least, this staves off the post-nut clarity (guilt) just a little longer when he’s pursuing a release, blasphemous images of you running through his mind.

A good example of this occurs almost nightly, with Miguel thoroughly loving a pillow clad in a shirt he’d lent you once, your scent still woven, though faded, into the fabric.

Many nights, his face is pressed to the cotton of that shirt, muffling his lips and his moans as his teeth sink into your temporary body, extending, marking, hand moving fervently beneath the bed sheets, your name the chant of many a spell of ardour.

You might mistake that red glow on his cheeks for the illumination of the console screens, but anyone who looks close enough knows better.

He loves showing you around the facility. Especially when your eyes light up and you remark how intelligent he is for “Doing this all on your own,”

Any compliment from you makes his heart thrum and his cheeks burn with the urge to smile. And, if it’s only you in his company, he does so.

Maybe even give you a nervous laugh.

You’re the only one he feels comfortable with showing emotion to.

He hopes that his displays aren’t lost on you; that you know him well enough to know that every smile, every laugh, is for you and you only.

And he is determined to, one day, make that smile of yours for him. And only him.

But, for now, he will content himself with daydreams and night ventures into territory not yet known, all the while possessing a seat beside you, being a shoulder for you to cry on, an ear into which you may pour your worries, a hero on whom you can always depend in ways you can’t even begin to imagine.

Reblog for more content like this! It helps creators like myself tremendously and it is greatly appreciated :-)

Masterlist Masterpost

Yandere Masterlist Juicy Original Content <3

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prettyforwoso · 2 months

Text

Shadow of Smoke

Part 1

Alexia Putellas x teen reader, Barca Femeni x teen reader

based off this request

summary: Exams are getting to the best of you. Isolating yourself from your friends and teammates, you find solace in substance.

MASTERLIST

You were getting closer and closer to punching a fist through your laptop screen every second. You usually enjoy studying, but not when it becomes mind numbingly easy and pointless, yet you still have to do it.

Your neck is beginning to hurt from sitting at your desk for so long, you wish you didn’t have to do this stupid homework but it needs to be turned in by class tomorrow morning.

Rolling back on your desk chair, you face the full wall window in your bedroom, looking over the Barcelona city sunset. Nothing beats this view.

You had moved into Alexia's house almost straight away when you moved to Barcelona. Family was out of the picture for you, and living completely alone at 16 in a new country was an absolute no for Alexia.

The two of you had met before, after the world cup semi finals, just as you got knocked out of the competition. Alexia and a few of her Spanish teammates were there.

You were relatively new to the game, making your debut as an Aussie player only just before the world cup, but you sure as hell were not unknown. You had taken the world by storm.

Alexia came up to you and introduced herself, as if you didn't know who she was. She complimented you, saying how well you played for someone so young and small. Quick into this conversation, Alexia clocked how shy you were, not able to hold eye contact and mostly only speaking when spoken to, alas, she quickly realized how sweet you were. The pair of you almost immediately getting along well.

Soon after singing for the team. Alexia came to meet you at a private conference while still in Australia after the world cup. She quickly adored you, she saw so much of her younger self in you. So nervous and shy, so quiet, yet such a big personality.

Your living situation was discussed at the conference, Alexia offered for you to live with her for a little while, until you got comfortable. A little while turned into forever the day that Alexia offered for you to permanently move in with her.

Alexia’s house was kind of the group spot for the team, it was very rare that you and Alexia were the only ones in the house during the day. It was a welcome spot for everyone, and the team took advantage of that.

…

Desk abandoned, you sat in front of the window with your laptop on your lap, trying to finish the last details of your essay.

“Chica!” You hear Alexia yell over the music and chatter in the kitchen. “Come eat dinner”

You sigh and close your laptop. Your feet find the floor as you walk towards your bedroom door.

You make your way down the hallway, following the calm chatter and soft music that filled the living room and kitchen.

You make your appearance, walking next to the stove top where Alexia serves you a plate. “Go sit with the girls and eat” She says as she looks down at you. Sat at the table was Lucy, Mapi and Ingrid, laughing amongst themselves. “No Alexia, I have to finish my essay” you plead, hoping she will let you eat at your desk. “No. You eat at the table, go sit” she says sternly, turning away from you to serve her own plate.

You sigh and roll your shoulders forward, making your way to the table.

“Oh there she is!” Ingrid smiles, looking at you taking a seat between her and Lucy . She presses a kiss to your cheek and Lucy messes with your hair.

“Sorry. I’ve been doing homework” You look up from your plate with the explanation of your absence.

“You’re such a good girl, I never did any homework in highschool” Mapi speaks up, making you crack a smile. That's so unsurprising.

“Don’t encourage that behavior Maria” Alexia drills into her as she takes a seat next to her. You roll your eyes and take a bite of the food.

“What? I just copied my friends” Mapi says jokingly, earning herself a smack on the back of the head from Alexia. “Callarse la boca” the statement accompanies her action. Mapi rolls her eyes and laughs in your direction, winking and smiling. You look down and smile at her encouragement.

“All this little one does is study” Alexia says after a silence, pointing to you with her fork.

“I thought you found school easy?” Lucy asks.

“Yeah… because I study.” You say, Alexia gives you an unsatisfied look because of your tone of voice. You just playfully roll your eyes and get back to eating, keeping to yourself as the rest of them carry on talking.

…

The house gets quieter as you get into bed and crack open a book. Everyone is still there, but they have moved to the deep chat part of the evening, knowing that you will be sleeping, taking into consideration that you have school tomorrow.

You feel your eyes begin to close when you hear a gentle knock on your bedroom door. “Yeah?” you yell out, thinking it's Alexia. The door cracks open and in comes Mapi. “Hey you, I wanted to come say goodnight.” She speaks as she walks towards you in bed. “Ingrid and I are heading home” She sits and moves hair out of your face. Mapi leans down and presses a kiss to your forehead. “It was nice to see you Chica, you should start coming out with us all soon”.

You know deep down that she's right. Alexia is hard on you about your studies but you know that's just because she loves you and wants you to do well. She would always let you go out to have fun, sometimes even encouraging it, begging you to lift yourself from your desk to get out of the house and explore the new city.

“I know, I will once I’m all done with exams” Mapi seems unsatisfied with your answer, a flash of sadness enters her eyes. “You’re doing a great job sweetheart. Really I mean it.” Her comment makes you smile and you lean up to kiss her cheek. “Thank you Maria”

It means a lot to you, statements like that. Your parents are not in your life, they never really had been. So being told by someone that they are proud of you always makes you smile.

…

You make it to training about an hour late because you had a class in the morning. You do part time schooling so that it can work around football and your professional career. This however, has come in the way of you really making many friends in the new city. You did have plenty of really good friends, but they were always at parties when you stayed home, so you weren't that close with them.

You are deathly shy. Hating nothing more than the idea of introducing yourself to someone or meeting someone new. You were so quiet when you first started playing for Barca, even the team had to work together to get something out of you sometimes. You eventually warmed up however, revealing your big personality and ability to make literally anyone laugh.

Training today seems like a step backwards in terms of your progression to confidence in the group. Walking into the gym all you said was a quiet hello to a few of your teammates. You were feeling so tired and overwhelmed from school and studies that you didn’t have the energy to have any kinds of conversations today.

“How are you today chica?” Frido asks as you walk over to the weights where she is standing. You don't verbally answer, instead just press your head to her chest and take a deep audible sigh. Frido wraps an arm around you and pulls you to look up at her. “Tired hm?” she asks and you simply nod.

This severe drop in energy hadn’t gone unnoticed to the rest of your teammates, all seeing you suddenly go quiet again, or straight up sleeping in meetings. They all had an understanding that you have exams at the moment, however, they usually don't affect you like this. They knew there had to be something else going on.

It was true, something more was going on. You had been isolating yourself too much. With the desperate need for academic validation comes the lack of a social life and the act of socially withdrawing. Everything was moving so fast at the moment, studies were one of the only things you felt like you could control. You basically refused to go out with any of your friends when they would ask, and Alexia took quick note of this.

Whenever she would ask, you would just tell her that you were feeling stressed with school and really needed to focus. She believed you to an extent. You have always been shy. She knew that you had been struggling to make friends at your new school, but you had made some and they seemed really genuine. It's not them she was worried about. There were other girls at your school that she knew didn’t make you feel at all welcome. These were the girls that picked on you and said rude things behind your back. You tried to reassure her that it was fine, and she acted like she believed you, but deep down she knew you were hurting, desperate to get out and go to the parties you were invited to, but you were just too nervous.

Those girls picked on you because you were so quiet. They called you all sorts of mean things that you pretended to not hear, more for your own comfort than anyone else's.

…

The two of you arrived home just after lunch. You threw your bags down on the doorway of your bedroom and escorted your body to the shower.

Water runs down your body in reflection. You stare down at your toes, inviting your shampoo to drip over your face. You close your eyes when the liquid attempts to make contact. Your hands are on your face, rubbing your eyes in an attempt to discard the soap on your face. Your eyes remain shut as you rock your head back and lean your whole body against the shower wall, keeping it in reach of the water that keeps you warm.

Your vision breaks free as you crack your eyes open, seeing nothing but the fogged up shower glass isolating you from the rest of the room.

You had been invited to a party tonight, one of those random massive group parties smack bang in the middle of the week- in the middle of exams. You weren't planning on attending- to say the least, but Alexia knew you had been invited and you knew she would encourage you to go. A small part of you wonders if maybe you should…

You hadn’t been to a party in weeks, maybe even a month or two. Your friends never fail to invite you, always wanting to make you feel included even when they knew that answer was always going to be a no.

A knock on your door brings you out of your delusions. It’s Alexia- who else would it be.

“Yeah?” You yell out, fighting with the volume of the water crashing down on the tiled shower floor.

“Babygirl get the FUCK out of the shower, its been an hour” Alexia jokes.

You groan, roll your eyes and turn your body to turn the water off. It was never a big deal when you had long showers. You and Alexia had separate bathrooms. However, Alexia would get worried if you were in there for longer than an hour, believing the hot water will damage your ‘Perfect baby skin’. Your eyes were consistently rolled in this household.

…

You sit on your bed, wrapped in your towel. Wet hair meeting your back. You were hunched over looking at your phone, contemplating whether or not to attend tonight. Alexia returns to your room, sighing when she sees your posture, a correction she has made many times.

“What is the matter?” You turn around, eyes meeting her voice. She stood in the doorway, looking lovingly stern.

You don’t move from your position. “I think I might go tonight” Alexia's eyes widen and she physically looks shocked. “Wait really?” she asks, as if to double check before she continues. “I think that’s a good idea” She says, her accent beginning to struggle with her english.

…

“You’ll be home by 12?” Alexia says, holding your shoulders, her face close to yours. “And you can call me anytime to come get you…I’ll be there”

“Yes Alexia” You begin. “I have been to parties before” You say, cracking a smile. “I know, I just want to make sure you have fun” She said, tilting her face down and locking eyes, as if to question you. “Now come here, give me a hug before you go” You step onto your toes and press your face to her chest. “You look so gorgeous Bebita” she says, inhaling the scent of your perfume on top of your hair products. “Thank you Lex” you lean up to her and press a kiss on her cheek, soon heading out the door.

…

It’s loud and crowded here, not unlike any other parties. You greet a few people but hunt for your friends, trying to remain confident with your posture.

Your face morphs into a smile when you find them outside, sitting around a fire with a few others.

You hug and kiss them all, finding a seat squeezed between two of them, placing your hands out, hovering close to the fire to be warmed.

Chatter and more chatter. The deep conversations around a fire, all sat in plastic chairs, were never anything but enjoyable. You weren’t uninvolved in the party, you were just at a smaller section of the party, and if anything, the main party was becoming the campfire as more and more people came to join, dancing around or just sitting and chilling with friends. You wondered why you always say no to this, you always end up having fun with everyone, you begin to regret the isolation you have put on yourself as you realize just how much you have been missing out on.

You’re silent for a while, letting the others around you fill your conscious. You didn’t have anything to say, so you happily said nothing at all.

The attention of your group is suddenly all on you as someone near you hands you a vape. “Hey, you want a hit?” They ask. “No, no thanks” You non-judgmentally decline, passing it back and waiting for everyone to move on with the conversations, but they don’t.

“Go on, it won’t kill you” A friend of yours speaks, nudging your shoulder with their own.

“Bro no, I’m an athlete” You say jokingly, smiling at the fact they think it’s not a big deal.

“One hit isn’t gonna take away your spot” the one who offered her vape says.

You think for a moment. Lots of teenagers do it, no one you know has ever got sick from it. And part of you knows they are right- one hit won’t hurt. As if Alexia would ever know.

#woso #barcelona x reader #barca femeni #fluff #barcelona femeni #lucy bronze #alexia putellas fluff #alexia putellas x reader #alexia x reader #alexia putellas #lucybronze #barca x reader #barca #barcelona femeni x reader #barca femini x reader #fc barca #ona batlle #hell is a teenage girl #alexia putellas smut

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pseudowho · 11 months

Text

Kento Comes Home Drunk

(help me find the Nanami artist in the banner, for crediting and thanks/permission!)

The reader manages her drunk, horny fiancé, Nanami Kento, like an absolute champ.

Link to the sequel here: Reader Comes Home Drunk

WARNINGS: 18+, soapy handjobs (F to M), mutual masturbation, cumshots, ethics of consent, Kento being a sloppy drunk

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Hope he's having a good time, you mused to yourself, nursing a late cup of tea. The clock ticked well past midnight; you were the overnight on-call for Curse-related shenanigans, so whilst you had wanted to join Satoru, Shoko, Ino, Ijichi and Kento for drinks, you had, instead, waved Kento off, and settled in for a night with your phone on loud, and late-night game shows.

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"Hate to see you leave," you'd sighed at 6pm, bobbing upwards for a kiss. He had traded his work attire for a buttoned black shirt, and simple dark jeans. Effortlessly handsome. You buried your face in his chest, breathing his cologne, and gave him a playful shove on the chest, like trying to push a truck.

He stepped backwards, with a lopsided smile and his hand reached out to pinch your chin affectionately.

"But love to watch me go?" You winked at him. You were wearing his favourite outfit; your oldest pyjamas. He found something so sexy about you being comfy. You preened at him, cradling your first tea of the night.

"You know it." He chuckled, but became serious immediately after.

"Call me if you're called out overnight. I want to be around if anything...happens." You nodded, hand on heart.

"Good luck beating off other women with sticks. Hope you've practiced your comedy rejections."

Kento hummed sagely, "Bold of you to assume I'm a man? My doctor said I shouldn't until the smallpox has cleared up? Undskyld, jeg taler ikke Japansk?"

You laughed, gave him one final kiss, and waved him out of the door.

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Firmly lost in late-night TV and stifling a yawn, you noted the time; nearly 2am. As you smilingly hoped Kento was having fun, there was a firm tap at the door. You rose to answer it, and you paused to hear shuffles, bumps, hushed voices and fumbled keys. Rolling your eyes, you opened the door to a waft of whisky fumes dressed as your fiancé.

"Fiancé delivery service! Sorry for the late call ma'am, I tried to throw him over the gate but he was too heavy." Satoru heaved Shoko higher onto his back, and she groaned, face first in his shoulder. Ino and Ijichi swayed behind him, quietly huddled over Ino's phone and arguing over what food to order.

You smirked up at Kento, who was possibly more gorgeous while dishevelled, shirt half untucked, sleeves rolled, and stumbling into the hallway to kick his shoes off. He walked the confident walk of a drunk man back towards the door, possessively looping an arm around your waist and planting a sloppy kiss to your neck. Glaring at Satoru, he gripped the doorframe.

"I didn't need you to get me home, Gojo. I'm not drunk." Kento shuffled his whole face into your neck, gripping your pyjamas hard. You thanked Satoru, and sent him off to deliver the other drunkards home. Kento slammed the door hard, and backed you up against the wall while you laughed, slapping at his chest as he mumbled incoherent greetings against the side of your face.

"Behave yourself, buddy, you're hammered. Let's get you to bed." He groaned cheerfully, taking this as an invitation. His eyes met yours, unusually playful, and with a wink started to slowly unbutton his shirt. You rolled up a nearby newspaper and swatted his hands. Mouth watering at the sight of his abs, you sternly told yourself off.

"It is unethical to have sex with drunk people when you're sober. I don't know what you think you're getting tonight, but you should adjust your expectations." Bodily manhandling him, you turned him around while he grumbled at you, urging him towards the bathroom. He sat against the counter, bum accidentally setting off the tap in the sink, while you set the shower running. He stumbled and cursed behind you, trousers now wet and clinging to his muscled thighs. You heard him stripping while you waited for the water to heat up.

He thinks he's being sneaky, you thought to yourself as Kento pressed himself into your back, erection now full and visible against his underwear, and his hands slipped boldly under your pyjamas. While one hand reached up to cup your breast, the other snuck down to graze against the top of your mound. Involuntary shivers of pleasure ran down your spine, his wet mouth on your neck smelling of hot whisky and smoke.

"I have full capacity," Kento purred against your neck, tongue trailing up to your ear now, "and I'm so delighted my girl is still home, and I'd love nothing more than to make her the final taste on my tongue tonight." He stopped, musingly, his gaze at you still drunk and fluttering.

"Unless you don't want to," he pondered, taking his hands from your body. You pouted up at him, crossed arms and faux-angry, and nodded towards the shower.

"You smell like a bar. Behave yourself." Kento chuckled at you, cracking his neck and sighing, absent-mindedly palming his erection through his underwear. His cock sprang up as he finished undressing, pink-tipped and perfect, and you couldn't resist looking him up and down. He stepped into the shower, hot water cascading down his broad shoulders. Leaning one hand against the glass, he eyed you ruefully again.

"I'll manage myself then, shall I?" Still leaning on the glass, his eyes drifted shut as his other hand trailed down his body to grip his wet cock. "Please don't feel obliged to stay." You tried to appear unaffected, and moved to turn, but paused as you heard the slow wet strokes of him pumping himself under the running water. The drink lowered his guard, and he let out a long, slow moan of relief as he pleasured himself, now totally oblivious to your presence.

You felt heat pool between your legs, your arms covered in goosebumps and your nipples pebbling under the cool pyjama fabric. You considered your options.

Still stroking himself, and gradually increasing the pace, Kento was imagining you riding him on the sofa, like you had done only days before, his hands on your eager hips as you told him how deep you could feel him. He groaned to himself, desperate to feel that intense intimacy and pleasure again, enhanced by the alcohol running through his system.

Thoughts interrupted by a tap on the shower glass, he opened his eyes to you, leaning against the bathtub, one hand moving slow circles over your clit and another rolling your nipple between your fingers. Lower lip between your teeth, you blushed as you watched Kento pleasure himself.

Kento moaned unashamedly, swiping his thumb over his tip, cock twitching furiously in his hand.

"I'll return the favour, I promise," he begged you, eyes fully focused on where your hand moved steadily beneath your pyjamas, feeling his pulse quicken as you flushed and moaned, legs weakening against the tub, "I know what you're like when you come home drunk, you're a nightmare, saying no to you is a chore."

Lip still between your teeth you smiled at him, and, now feeling especially naughty, you moved to straddle the lip of the bathtub. Kento's jaw dropped as you began to ride it, sighing his name as if he wasn't there, now slipping your pyjama top down to release your aching breasts.

"Shit...please get in here before I lose my mind," and he stopped stroking himself, hand gripping the base of his cock as pre-cum trickled out, merging with the running water. His head was still spinning with the alcohol, but his senses were sharpened by your performance, so he watched you hungrily, determined that he'd cum inside you if he had any say in the matter.

You continued to hump the side of the bath, shuddering, eyes glinting with mischief.

"How can I trust that you know what you're asking?" You replied breathlessly, "It is unethical. I'd be taking advantage. I'd hate for you to regret me in the morning."

Kento grinned at you. "But watching me is fine? It seems worse somehow. Regret you," he scoffed. Humour aside, Kento shifted uncomfortably, grunting as his cock continued to throb in his hand. "Get in here," he wheedled, "and stop fucking the bathtub in front of me, and use me instead."

You acquiesced, resolve cracking. Stripping quickly, you slipped into the shower, pressing against him and immediately gripping his pulsing shaft. He stuttered and whined, hands pressed back against the glass, panting as you squeezed him.

"Alright, you win," you breathed against him, licking the flat of your tongue across his nipple, tasting the sweat and nightclub on his skin, "but I will absolutely remember this when I'm the one who's drunk and begging."

You spun Kento around again, and reached around his hips to grasp his cock just as he would as he pleasured himself. He continued to pant, whining and begging you for relief. You rubbed his tip with the flat of your palm, teasing, before starting to stroke from the head to the base of his cock in well-practiced motions.

Kento moaned and murmured sweet praise. His hands pressed against the glass, fingers flexing and unfolding as you fondled his bum lovingly, nipping his shoulder blades and sweeping your wet hand up and down his cock, gently twisting and squeezing at the head until he was gasping. You kept a steady pace, Kento occasionally thrusting forwards into your hand, calling you his good girl, his sweetest thing, being so good to him.

Head swimming with the alcohol, Kento gladly accepted the handjob, overwhelmed by the pleasure and steam of the shower. As he was about to turn to insist on bending you over against the shower wall, your second hand crept round to his throat and squeezed just hard enough for his moan to catch in his chest. Balls tightening and abdomen twitching, Kento gasped as you whispered into his ear; "be a good boy and cum in my hand".

Kento broke, wave after wave of pleasure rushing through him, strengthened by the drink, as thick spurts of cum shot into your hand and against the shower glass. He moaned your name, hips thrusting sloppily, one hand reaching round to squeeze your waist. Your pace slowed, squeezing gently as you pumped every last drop out of him.

Kento slumped against the glass, a dopey satisfied smile on his face, and hummed happily as he felt a soapy sponge start to clean his back. By the time you had gently scraped your nails through his hair, rinsing him of the last suds, he was barely awake in the steamy bathroom.

"Come on, big guy. Let's get you to bed." Kento frowned at you, looking faintly guilty.

"But I haven't done anything for you." You stroked his cheeks, full of affection.

"Trust me, that did plenty for me. I'll be storing that in my head for a long time."

Kento blushed, but allowed you to lead him to bed and dry his hair. He was face down in bed and asleep within seconds, his body relaxed, his tense muscles loose and softened.

You hesitated before checking the time; if you hadn't been called out by now, you probably wouldn't be, you convinced yourself. Pulling on one of Kento's shirts, you sat your phone by the bed and slipped under the sheets, tucking close to his warmth with one knee lifted over the small of his back.

"Still think I took advantage of you," you mumbled to Kento, before falling asleep to his warmth and deep, soft breaths, safe and happy in the dark.

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This best boy deserves a soapy handjob

And the sequel, Reader Comes Home Drunk, link here.

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whatswrongwithblue · 1 month

Text

The Hunt Pt. 2

Read on AO3.

Part 1. Part 3.

Summary: Alastor x Reader (reader is afab, uses she/her pronouns.) Date nights in Hell are done a little differently, especially when you're dating The Radio Demon.

Trigger warnings: Reader and Alastor in Hell for a reason. Stalk & prey roleplay in the bayou that ends in bondage sub/dom sex. Rope bondage, biting, rough oral sex (Alastor receiving), vaginal fingering, rough p&v sex.

It was a rare day in Hell that you felt restless but from your first cup of coffee that morning, you could practically hear your blood humming with the need to do something.

Something new and fun.

You and Alastor used to have no shortage of such things but since his return and moving into the hotel, your date nights were getting fewer and far between and had taken on an air of monotony. They were still enjoyable but it was beginning to be the same repetitive thing over and over again. Alastor chased them down, you made them face their own sin, you and Alastor ate them together, etc etc.

And Alastor was so busy these days, his attention split between Charlie’s needs, his role as an Overlord, and running his radio show. Not to mention, those days he took off without a word for hours, a consequence of his damn deal with the owner of his soul.

But today, you were determined to be in a good mood and make something of it. So you marched up to Alastor’s radio tower with a new idea brewing in your mind; one you were sure he would be interested in hearing.

____

“Oh, sweetheart, you seem so tense,” you cooed as you rubbed his shoulders. He had flung off his jacket, letting his guard down a bit knowing it was just the two of you up there and for just a second, he leaned his head back into your torso and closed his eyes, appreciating the touch.

But then his eyes flew back open and he leaned forward in his seat, looking over his workstation.

“I appreciate your concern darling, but I do have a lot of work to do before I can relax.”

You pouted, though you knew he couldn’t read your expression with his back to you.

“How much longer are you going to be?”

“I’ve no idea,” he said shortly, and you tried to not take it personally. He was never cruel to you, but he could still get a bit terse if you bothered him when he was busy.

With an audible sigh, you tried another approach.

“I was just hoping that this evening we could go on a date.”

“I don’t have any business that needs attending to in that matter, unfortunately, but you know you’ll be the first to hear of it once I do.”

“I think there is someone worth going after,” you countered, letting your voice turn a little suggestive. You caught the slight flick of an ear and knew you had his curiosity. Wrapping your arms around his shoulders, you leaned yourself over him so that you were nearly cheek to cheek. “I think there’s a naughty little Sinner that’s been right under your nose this whole time and she needs punished. And I think she’ll be hiding in your bayou this evening . . . if you think you can hunt her down.”

You kissed him on his jawline and stood up, quickly walking away from him and headed for the door.

He called out your name as your hand reached the doorknob, and you turned around to face him. Alastor had turned around in his seat and was eyeing you with not just interest but absolute hunger in his eyes.

“I’ll give you a 20 minute head start,” he began, then looked up at the clock on the wall. “Starting now.”

With a delighted giggle, you flung the door open and took off at a dead run.

____

The bayou was deeper than you expected.

You had gone for short strolls with Alastor through it before, but he had either misled you about how large it was, or he’d made additions to it since you were last here.

A lot of additions.

You couldn’t even see the entrance to it anymore and had already spooked up a herd of deer and got a rather angry squirrel screaming at you from the trees above, both of which gave away your location.

Realizing early on this would be more challenging than you expected, you worked on controlling your breathing and making each footstep more purposeful and quieter.

You were sure the 20 minute mark was either approaching or had already come and gone and you were just beginning to wonder how you would be able to tell when Alastor entered the bayou when everything around you seemed to go still at once.

Birds stopped singing, the cicadas stopped their buzzing, and even the trees seemed to move in the breeze less. It was like all of nature knew an apex predator was nearby, and everything went into hiding.

It was then that you heard his humming, and your ears triangulated the noise coming up a path you had snuck off of a few minutes ago to hide and cower in the thicket you were now tangled up in.

That fucker was singing. He was so confident in himself he wasn’t even attempting to be stealthy.

Then you saw two pointed red ears in the distance following the nature trail and as he approached, more of him slowly came into view. After a moment you could tell he was looking down at the path in front of him, with an easy smile on his face, and his hands clasped behind his back.

But why was he looking down and not around him, searching for you?

Then he went silent and stopped right at the spot on the trail where you had taken off the path and headed into the shrubbery looking for cover and it dawned on you then and there that he wasn’t following the path at all.

He was following your footprints. Your tracks.

Your heart began to race as the reality of being his prey sunk in and you cowered deeper into the bushes surrounding you, knowing he couldn’t see you from his vantage point, even as you watched his smile broaden and he lifted his gaze from the path to the direction you were hiding at.

But his eyes didn’t land exactly on your hiding spot. Rather they seemed to skim the area around you before his expression relaxed again and he continued on down the path, away from you, and picked up his humming tune again.

You waited until he was totally out of sight, but not before the sound of his humming totally disappeared, to begin moving again.

Deciding to backtrack, you followed along the way you had come until the world around you was completely silent again. You stayed within the thick shrubbery, hiding under trees and carefully moving amongst the ferns and undergrowth, knowing it would be better at hiding your footprints than the open trail had been. It was slow going, but you had to be extra careful not to snap any branches or flatten any leaves as you went, knowing that was just as much of a give away for an experienced tracker like Alastor.

After several minutes, you made a sharp right and hopped over the path, heading back into the deeper part of the swamp, now on the opposite side of the trail than what Alastor believed you were on. You breathed in deeply and steadily before marching on, this time letting yourself move a little quicker.

Eventually the trees became sparser and you paused every few feet, listening carefully as you went, knowing you would have to duck down and hide the moment you heard Alastor’s voice.

Grasses began to populate the area just as much as the ferns were and the ground beneath your feet became muddy. It slowed you down once more, making you search for more solid footing at you went. Then suddenly there was before you a real proper swamp. Nothing but water still enough to see your reflection in, its surface covered in lily pads and water skippers, though the insects were being unnaturally still. You watched as a frog that had been sunning itself on a rock slipped quietly into the water, as if hiding from you.

Or someone else.

Down the edge of the swamp, you could see a little canoe so you made your way over to it, intent on taking it across the water to the other side. You could see a little cabin across the way and while you were sure that could be used as a trap against you, at least you would have the body of water between you and Alastor.

But just as your hand touched the handle of the paddle sitting within the boat, you heard the humming again. Only this time there was no telling which direction it was coming from.

You looked around you, panicking as Alastor’s staticky voice only got louder and louder, but you could see no sign of him.

The damn canoe must have had some kind of magical trigger on it, alerting him if anyone touched it, and you nearly dropped it at the thought.

Instead you set it down exactly as you had found it.

You figured if you left the boat right where it was, Alastor would find it and assume you stayed on this side of the water. So with clothes and shoes and everything still on you, you stepped into the water, wading out until it was up to your shoulder, and silent as night, sank into its depths and let yourself be submerged.

Now that you were dead, you could hold your breath for longer than when you were alive, but even with your demonic strength and stamina, when you finally breached the water’s edge of the other side, you were gasping for air.

You had come up beneath the hanging branches of a willow tree, thankfully giving you ample cover as your head emerged from the water.

It was silent again, no humming to be heard, and no Alastor in sight.

There was however, something in the water with you.

You could see the ripples moving across the mirror like surface, giving away the creature’s immense size well before its scaled body became visible.

The giant gator moved with deadly stealth through the swamp and you thought it would keep swimming right past you, when it made a sudden turn in your direction.

With a thundering heart and shaking hands, you swam as quickly as you could out from under the willow tree and crawled up the muddy bank, just in time to see its massive jaws come up and snap at where your heels had been a moment before.

Its black dead eyes watched you, considering if it would come out of the water in pursuit of you or not. Risking the noise, you let out a growl and felt your skin shift as your more demonic form began to come forward. This was all fun and games until Alastor brought his pet into this; a real creature that nearly almost ate you, and you weren’t about to let that happen. The gator eyed you for one more second before crawling backwards and disappearing into the water.

With a satisfied huff, you took off away from the edge of the swamp but stopped dead in your tracks when you heard the humming pick up again.

The cabin was now only a few yards away and surrounded on three sides by a cluster of more willow trees. With an idea forming in your mind, you took off for it, no longer bothering to hide your tracks.

The door was mercifully unlocked and you ran inside. There was a screened in front porch that lead straight into a split roomed, tiny space. The main room clearly functioned as both a living space and a bedroom, with a sofa and fireplace in one corner and a bed and wardrobe in the other. A closed door must have led to a bathroom. Within the wall opposite the front door was an opening that led into a small kitchen area and you sighed with relief when you saw it had a back door.

“I see you’ve met my little Polly, isn’t she a doll?”

You had to bite your lip to keep from screaming when you heard Alastor’s voice. Until you realized it was coming from the radio perched on the coffee table by the fireplace.

“I’m sorry she gave you such a fright, but I promise she wouldn’t have eaten you.” His soft laughter filled the room. “In fact, she’s a picky eater. She really has a taste for the hearts of my enemies, much like yourself. So you were never really in any danger.”

You turned your back on the radio. So he knew you were in here but wasn’t already here himself. That would only work in your favor.

Letting the water from your swim drip onto the floor behind you, you walked over to the wardrobe and opened it, revealing several articles of clothes and a few towels. Grabbing one, you carefully closed the wardrobe again and wiped away the rest of the trail of water as you made your exit through the kitchen and out the backdoor, leaving just the water droplet that led to the wardrobe behind you.

Once back outside, you ran to the tree line behind the cabin and followed it along until you were back at the front of the house and climbed up into the nearest willow tree and secured your hiding place, waiting for your plan to work.

It took several minutes but eventually you saw Alastor emerge from the shadows of the trees, almost directly beneath you, and head straight for the cabin. There he would follow your trail and find what he assumed to be your hiding place, but you planned on running out of there the second that door shut behind him.

Then you would make it all the way back to your hotel room and wait arrogantly for him on the bed you two shared in there. He could punish you all he wanted there, but only after you made it clear you had beaten him at this game.

He wasn’t humming any longer but just as you foresaw, Alastor disappeared into the covered porch and the second you heard the door of the cabin open and close, you jumped from your spot high up in the willow tree and landed easily on your two feet.

You smiled as you took one last glance at the cabin, knowing you had won.

Before you could turn your back on the house, a set of arms grabbed you from behind. One covered your mouth, silencing your scream, while the other wrapped around your waist and pulled you tight to the taller body behind you.

“Found you,” Alastor sang into your ears before he bit down on your neck, and you felt your body begin to dissolve into shadow with his.

____

“A valiant effort my dear. I must say, I’m impressed. I should have expected nothing less from one worthy of being my lover. But alas, you did not outsmart me.”

You struggled against your bonds as he walked over to you.

Alastor had your hands bound behind your back and your legs tied up so that your thighs were to your chest, and your ass was raised into the air in a most demeaning pose.

All your clothes had disappeared when he transported you back into the cabin, and now he had you gagged and kneeling before him on the wooden floor, a roaring fire the only comfort in the room. And the fact that he had you completely naked and in such a shameless position kept you from being able to hide the signs of arousal now dripping from your core.

“Are you ready to accept your punishment?” he asked you and you tilted your head, pressing your cheek into the floor beneath you, as you did your best to look up at him with your most willing, submissive expression.

His smile looked pleased as he read the non-verbal agreement in your eyes and walked over until he was behind you and got down on his knees.

You felt his palm rubbing against the swell of your ass, teasingly close to your most sensitive area. Then the first slap came, and you flinched against the sting of it but didn’t cry out.

“You’ve been a naughty little Sinner, haven’t you?”

Another slap.

“You said so yourself. And how many people have you killed?”

Slap.

This time you grunted around your gag, feeling your drool begin to soak it.

“Just when you were alive, how many did you say it was?” He was rubbing where he had smacked you last, the cool skin of his palm soothing your red and aching flesh. “Seven, isn’t that right?”

Slap.

“And how many more since you came to Hell and joined me?”

Slap.

“You don’t even know do you? So many you’ve lost track?”

You felt his fingers dip to the lowest part of your ass cheek and give it a greedy squeeze, his claws and the tips of his fingers so very close to your core, and when he trailed his hand back up you felt the wetness that had gathered there being painted across your skin.

Alastor hummed in approval as the sight of your arousal as he teasingly dipped his fingers lower again, not quite touching you at your aching center, but finding your most outer lips still coated with slick, and spread more of it across the flesh of your backside. A silent reminder that he was well aware of just how much you were enjoying yourself.

“Such a deviant thing you are.” You heard him stand and then the soft sound of his own clothes hitting the floor and the unmistakable sound of the zipper of his trouser being lowered. “Such a violent, murderous, little whore I have in front of me. But you’re ready for redemption now, aren’t you my dear?”

He moved until he was in front of you, his bare hooves the first thing you could see, and then he was kneeling in front of you and helping push you up until you were both raised up on your knees, his proud erection in full view now.

With a snap of his fingers, your gag was gone from your mouth, though it still left a bit of saliva running down your chin. Alastor swiped it away with his thumb before grabbing your jaw and making you look up into his eyes.

“You took your punishment so well darling, I think it’s time I let you prove yourself.” He took his cock in hand and rubbed the tip along your lips, its velvety softness teasing you and you let your lips part just a little as you gazed up at him. “Show me what lovely things that mouth can do, and I’ll give you quite the reward.”

You opened your mouth and let him slide into you, hollowing out your cheeks and letting the flat of your tongue stroke along the bottom side of his shaft. He groaned and thrust deeper before pulling out and starting right away with a brutal pace.

It was hard to keep your balance with your arms behind your back and forced to lean forward on your knees, but Alastor kept one hand on your shoulder and the other fisted into your hair as he rocked his hips into your face.

You let yourself moan, your lips suctioned tight around his cock, as he moved in and out of your mouth at a relentless speed. Often, his tip hit the back of your throat, making you gag and choke on him, and your spit dribbled onto him, soaking him and the floor beneath you. You couldn’t take all of his length and you wished he would free a hand for you to pump him at his base like you normally would, but it was evident you were still pleasing him with the way his hands clenched at your body and his cock twitched in your mouth.

It was difficult in this position, but you managed to never try and pull away, taking every inch of him over and over without hesitation, even when he gagged you so hard you had to fight the urge to cough.

With one final thrust, Alastor came and the taste of him filled your mouth. He had such a lovely salty and savory taste to him and your eyes fluttered shut as your swallowed him down. Then he was pulling himself out of your mouth and lifting you up enough that you were sitting on your heels, your toes bent and pressed against the floorboards beneath your weight. For a moment the spell of dominance was broken as he panted against you and pressed his forehead against yours. He was even sweet enough to nuzzle his nose against yours and kiss you between the eyes before that hard look returned to his features and he leaned away from you enough to really take in the sight of you.

“Such a good girl for me. Ready for that reward?”

“Yes . . . please,” you added after a pause, remembering your manners.

“Well then,” he said as he stood back up. “Better get you back in position.”

With your face back to the floor and backside raised full on display once more, Alastor made no preamble before he began running his fingers through your folds and across your clit. No more slapping or clawing at your skin; rather his touch was gentle and tender as he toyed with you there, building you up until you were on the brink of begging for more.

But he had left you tied up and helpless before, so you knew if you should vocalize your wants without his permission or press yourself into his hand, he would retaliate. So, you kept your body pliable and submissive for him and let him have his way. Alastor was talented enough with those fingers that he eventually had you wet enough you could feel your arousal literally dripping from your body, leaving a little puddle that gathered at the back of your knees.

“So quiet,” he mused as he continued teasing you. “Such a good little angel. But surely you want more?”

“Please,” you whimpered and moaned when he slipped two fingers into your depths, curling them down and pulling on your sweet spot as he moved them in and out of you.

“And more?” he said with a saccharine sweet tone.

“Yes,” you panted and begged. “Please. Anything. Whatever you want. Just please . . . more.”

His thumb pressed against your clit, and you cried out as he began working you inside and out.

“Anything I want?”

You came embarrassingly fast, just as that question left his lips, but it was no surprise given how much he had teased and taunted you beforehand. Those fingers disappeared from between your legs and still wet with your own juices, grabbed at your hair again and lifted you up until your back was pressed against his chest and you felt his erection resting against your tail bone.

Nervous and thrilled at the same time of the idea of him already hard for you again, you lifted your chin and pushed yourself into his embrace, eager to feel even more of him, even as his grip on your hair became painfully tight.

“Anything I want?” he repeated.

“You’re the one who caught me,” you said, daring to be a little bold. “I’m not a good little angel but I am yours.”

He chuckled, low and deep, a far cry from the tones most others in Hell got to hear from The Radio Demon, but it was one you had come to learn meant he was truly entertained by something. It was a slip up of his natural voice, a relic from when he was alive, and it sent a shot of pleasure straight down your spine every time you heard it.

And then you were lost in shadow once more, the strange and beautiful feeling of nothing but your soul and his, wrapped around each other in a weightless, blind world.

You blinked and found yourself across the room and on your back on the bed. Most of the ropes had gone missing from your body and your legs were free to stretch and spread wide for Alastor as he crawled over you. Your wrists were the only thing still bound and they were tied to each other and to the headboard behind you.

With his hands, Alastor maneuvered yours legs until they were around him, your knees to his ribcage and ankles hooked at the small of his back, as he slid the entire length of his cock into you until you were hip to hip and felt the hard tip of him pushing against your inner boundary, and you knew the fucking you were about to be subjected to would leave your cervix delightfully bruised.

“This is what you want?” you asked in a teasing tone as you undulated your hips against his.

“Hmmm,” he agreed and bit your neck, just as he had when he had first caught you. “This is what I always want.”

He began to move in you, in and out, in that perfect glorious way that had you seeing nothing but stars and those glowing ruby eyes of his. Every stroke of him within your walls left you wanting more and somehow it was as if he always managed to do just that; every second felt better than the last, every sliding inch brought your closer to that peak of pleasure. You pulled against your restraints, desperate to touch him, to pull him closer to you until there was no space between your bodies at all, but the ropes held tight behind you.

Willing to give in just a little to your needs, he leaned down and captured your mouth with his own, and you made the most feral lusty sounds in response. One of his arms was braced against the mattress at your side but the other came up and wrapped itself at the top of your neck, just below your jaw line, pushing you down into the pillow beneath you as his tongue danced across yours.

You were eager for a tighter grip, so you sucked his lower lip and bit down with a growl, a bratty response you knew would get you the punishment you were after. As expected, his fist clenched around your throat and you gasped in pleasure, pretending it was fear as your mouth and eyes went wide in fake shock.

Alastor licked at the blood on his lips that you had drawn from him, his face a mix of pleasure and rage.

“You evil, wicked little thing.” A painful snap of his hips into you had you crying out, but the noise came out as little more than a wheeze with how tightly he was choking you. “You’re lucky I like it when you do that.”

A few more thrusts into you and you were coming again. You lost yourself in the intensity of it, your body spasming your hips upwards, every muscle from your chest to your toes clenching together and it wasn’t until the very end of it when you realized Alastor had come with you, as his seed filled you up to the point of spilling out onto the mattress beneath you.

The ropes vanished from around your wrists, and you brought your arms down, cradling the back of Alastor’s head as he buried his face in the crook of your neck. You laid there together for a minute, the sound of your heaving breathing and the crackling of the fireplace the only noise, as you ran your fingers through his hair, occasionally stroking an ear or an antler. It was such a peaceful, quiet moment and you swore you nearly fell asleep from exhaustion right then and there.

Then he was kissing your neck, careful little presses of his lips to your skin over the bite wound he had marked you with and you blinked as his loving administrations brought you back to reality.

“I like it here,” you said and felt his shoulders shudder with barely audible laughter, his smile broad against the tender flesh of your neck.

“I’m glad to hear it.”

He lifted his head and looked at you, his smile reaching his eyes as they glowed with adoration and love for you.

“Can we spend the rest of the afternoon here?” you asked, trailing a hand from his hair down his face to cup his cheek.

You knew it was a selfish question; he had already peeled himself away from his busy workload to play this little game with you and he likely was about to turn you down. But to your surprise, he looked pleased with your question and turned his face into your touch, kissing the palm of your hand before he spoke.

“I was hoping you’d ask that. After all,” he looked down at the wet mess between your bodies and the naked state of both of you, “we’re in no position to go for another walk through the bayou just yet.”

“Is there a shower behind that bathroom door by any chance?”

“Shower, bathtub, natural hot spring . . . I can make it be whatever your heart desires, my love.”

You quirked an eyebrow at him, knowing he was just wanting to show off to you.

“Let’s start with a nice, normal shower and see where the evening takes us.”

You pushed playfully at his shoulders, and he obliged you by rolling off of you and the bed, taking your hand as he helped you stand up.

“The evening? Ma cher, it’s hardly past noon.”

You were already walking away from him and towards the bathroom door, giggling a bit at his obviously fake whining, before he pulled you back to him, his chest flush with your back. He kissed your jaw line and then nipped at it, letting his teeth graze across your flesh; a warning and a promise of things to come.

“On second thought,” he whispered, “I think I’ll lock you up in this cabin with me until sunrise.”

If you would like to be added to the tag list for the final chapter Part 3, please comment below.

Tag list: @cosmiccandydreamer @itsaubreyofcc @thereallsaturnstar @anngray1369 @l3rittany @littlebluefishtail @saccharine-nectarine @everwolf-20

#hazbin hotel #hazbin alastor #alastor x reader #hazbin hotel alastor #alastor hazbin hotel #alastor fanfiction #alastor the radio demon #alastor #alastor smut #hazbin alastor x reader #alastor x reader smut #alastor x you #alastor x y/n #the radio demon #alastor radio demon #radio demon

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petew21-blog · 4 months

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Romania dreaming

It has been a few months since I met George on the site for long distance dating for gays. He was from Romania, kind of cute twinkish guy. Never had much luck. I honestly can't say why I went on that website, maybe I was just bored, but it turned out as the best decision of my life.

It was strange cause from the start, we knew we had chemistry between each other, but the distance made it complicated. We often sex-chatted on the website. About what we would do to each other and so.

One day I told him I wanted to jerk off furiously, because of what he wrote, but my rommate was unfortuantely in the room. Then just a strange idea popped into my head. "What if you'd swap into his body? Then you could be with me." George told me about his Romania ancestor magic skills he had, but he did just some small parlor tricks from time to time. The bigger spells were harder. He needed a friend for that. A friend that I could be. And that I could benefit from too

George loved the idea, but was scared at first. "What if the other one in my body ruins my life while he is me? I can't let that happen."

"Ok, you know what. Find anyone hot from your life that you would like me to swap into and I will come to see you. Then you'll swap me back and I'll see what the other person did. Maybe the spell makes them think they're us. That would be neat" I suggested

George was more confident now and even sent me some photos of his straight colleagues from work, so that we could see if they behaved differently after swapping back. I immediately set my eyes on Daniel. His hot, absolutely 100 % straight, colleague who worked out. Insanely hot.

We both agreed. I got ready in my bed. I told George to start the spell at 21:21. I looked at the clock and still had some minutes left. I tried to fall asleep. Maybe Daniel would be asleep in my body and it would be easier. Then it hit me. Strange nauseating feeling and the light

I was standing in the locker rooms. Cold win from the AC on my bare torso. Bare torso? Holy shit. I am shirtless in the locker rooms of some gym. That's something I never expected to happen to me. I looked down. First thing that caught my eye were the shorts. Then I looked at my beautiful muscular torso. My new arms. Then I caught my new reflection. In the mirror was the guy that I saw in the photo. Daniel. "Daniel" I said aloud. His voice sounded so strong and commanding. If he told me with this voice to get down on my knees and suck him, I would. Speaking of sucking I looked in my shorts. Nice flacid shaved cock. "Gotta find out how big you are when you're hard big guy". His phone vibrated. Fuck, I almost forgot I was suppose to send Daniel proof of swapping bodies

I sent the photo to George's instagram. Then I wrote:"This is what you'll be looking up at tonight while you suck me off"

"Peter? I can't believe it. You're really him. You have to come over!"

I wanted to get his stuff and leave immediately, but the some of his friends got to the locker and ridiculed me for being a pussy and leaving without lifting. I don't know if it was Daniel's personality or something else in me, but I felt like I had to prove them wrong. And then I said things I didn't even know. Shit about cars, girls, FUCKING GIRLS. I even lifted without knowing how. This body was on autopilote.

I left early without saying anything. Bunch of messages from George waiting for me and being stressed out what happened. I explained and asked for his adress of his dorms.

The twink I used to talk to late at night was waiting for me in black compression shorts and black shirt.

"Heey...." was all I let him say out loud. I agressively pressed him against the wall and kissed him. Tongues twisting around each other, my teeth biting his lips, hands feeling up and down his body. Slowly we were working our way to his bed. I set him down and took of my shirt. He was visibly shocked, that his work colleague was now in front of him stripping down. I whip out my hard dick and pushed it into his face. He obliged immediately and worked his way with his tongue around the bright purple head of my new dick. He was working it like a pro, trying to swallow it whole, not gagging. But that didn't matter, I had to fuck his ass. Now.

I turned him around, not even stripping him, only pulling a bit of his shorts from his ass. I spit into my hand, got it on my dick and pushed myself in. He screamed out. But I didn't care, I just pused inside and kept thrusting. He was so tight. His ass was so tight around my shaft. I shot my cum inside of him. Pulling out and immediately searching for clothes to leave.

"You're leaving?!"

I snapped out. "Fuck, jesus George I am so sorry. I don't know what happened. I think Daniel's personality still had effect on me. I didn't mean to be so rough on you. Please forgive me."

"It's ok. It did hurt at first, but it was worth it. I still can't believe you're him now. And I lost my virginity with Daniel who I crushed over for years! That's so amazing!"

"Wait, this was your first time? But, you told me all the stories. Was none of it true? Jesus, George, maybe if I knew I would have fought Daniel's personality harder."

"I didn't expect we would me irl. I honestly didn't expect the spell would wrok, but here we are. Daniel is here. In my room. Wait, I have a great idea!" he started casting a spell

"Wait!" I wasn't fast enough to stop him.

But now I was looking at Daniel. From his point of view. Already feeling more submissive than in Daniel's body. The personality of the original body truly does have an effect on the one swapped inside.

George was now posing in front of the mirror. His eyes focused on his biceps and all the tense muscles.

I was now in George's twink body. I could feel his ass hurting from the sex with Daniel's body. I could feel the cum in his ass. I felt the attraction towards Daniel's body. But I didn't feel right like I did in Daniel's. I wanted to swap back.

George now got to his new dick, which was already throbbing hard again. How that's possible, I have no idea. But as soon as he started jerking his new cock he looked at me and I felt his predator eyes on me. Fuck, this is gonna hurt

The next morning I woke up sleeping next to George still in Daniel's body. We didn't sleep much tonight, but don't get me wrong, while the sex felt great I still couldn't shake the feeling that I was in the wrong body. As soon as George woke up I told him about my dysphoria with his body. He got mad. I could tell that Daniel's personality took over. And then few seconds later I found myself in my original body again already in my university lecture.

For several weeks George didn't answer my messages. I could only see as his Tumblr profile had more and more photos of Daniel's body in the gym etc.

Not only was I worried, but I had to admit to myself that I was extremely jealous. I was in that body first. I need it more than he did

I kept spamming him with messages and then one day he answered. The message said:"I need to fuck this guy in gym. I'll swap u with him tonight. Be ready". Man, I think it's better to have one body close to Daniel's rather than be far from him

He did as he said in the message. I woke up again in the bright gym. Now lifting. I proceeded to not cause suspicion.

This guy I was now in was really handsome. More muscular even than Daniel I dare to say. I could feel that his personality was not as strong as Daniel's. He seemed more kind in my eyes, but who knows who he is. I may not know before George tells me. I saw him on the other side of the room eyeing me. Stalking me even. I left the body on autopilote and finished the workout. His body was probably used to take photos after so I let him

Maybe I could stay in his body. He is really hot. And more handsome too. But I don't know. He is the type I would love to have as a boyfriend, not to be him.

I followed George to the showers. We were eventually the last people in the gym. I got into the lockers. Patiently waiting for him to speak.

"You're Mihai now. He's the owner of the gym. So we got the place for ourselves. Let's hit the showers"

I followe him. Mihai, what a nice name for this guy. I don't feel that Mihai is someone who would just follow others and do what they tell him to. Maybe I figured out how to overpower the personality of the person.

We got naked and stared at each other.

"Nah, this is wrong." and yet again he proceeded to perform his ritual

I was now Daniel again and was looking at Mihai. Now the reality of how he acted hit him. And as I suspected before, Miahi was irl a very nice guy. "I am so so so sorry Peter. I didn't know that Daniel had such a strong personality. I tohught I could fight it, but most of the time I just found myself being the passenger, but still enjoying his life. It's so weird. But I feel better now as Mihai. Maybe you should stay in Daniel's body for now. I'll learn to control the personality of others, just as you did and then we can safely try to swap with other people. What do you think?"

"I think" I said as I turned on the water in the showers "that you need a post workout shower. And that George and Mihai need to get to know themselves better" I smiled at him kneeling down to the nice hairy cock already waiting for my mouth

Few months later

Are you asking if we stayed in their bodies? Well yeah, kind off. We made their bodies our main ones. We got them to live together, start a relationship and now even if we swapped into other bodies Daniel and Mihai bodies continue what we established. Romantic right?

Me and George often take trips to some new locations travelling around the world, enjoying life of other people. Most of the time we try to find some straight friends travelling to foreign locations, trying to score some pussy there and slightly changing their vacation plans. Heh, there was this one time where we didn't even exit our hotel room. For a week. Crazy right? That was wild. But maybe I'll tell that story another time and tell you how our life in Mihai and George is proceeding

But now we are in the bodies of these two gym bro friends, waiting for the gay bar to open. See you

A story from messages we came up with while body swap roleplaying with @hunkpossesion

I changed the plot a bit, but still the hot bodies remained.

#body swap #body switch #male body swap #gay to straight

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fanartist666 · 2 months

Text

TW: Discussion of needles, phobias and blood Reader can be anyone, tried to be as gender neutral as possible, just rambling tbh, Price is a big soft baby and needs to be coddled when he isn't spoiling you

I headcanon this man as being scared of needles.

Hear me out, going by Barry's height Price is like 6'3, and just look at the size of him! Yeah he has Ser Harwin Strong vibes and absolutely would beat the shit out of anyone that ever insulted you and he kills people. But imagine if he was unreasonably scared of it, and it gets worse around you.

Not because you're bad for him, or you make him feel unsafe, but the opposite. His walls come down around you, and you make him feel the safest he's ever felt, so instead of gritting his teeth and hyperventilating a little (shutting down very mildly) but getting himself through it when he's away, he's got the safety to express his actual terror around you.

You go with him to get blood drawn, or a vaccination, and the phlebotomist comes out and asks if you can come in because your fucking bear of a husband is bouncing off the walls because he can't handle it.

It wasn't until ten had passed that you suspected there might be something wrong. Maybe he'd passed out, you thought with a soft snort at the absurdity of the idea. John wasn't squeamish, but it shouldn't have taken this long, surely?

"Alright luvvie, see you in a min." John said, kissing your forehead as he left to step into a little consult room. Shouldn't be long, he was going to take you for coffee afterwards, so you took out your phone and crossed your legs in the waiting room chair. The same weird, NHS logo blue and white tones in seemingly every hospital with the sickly green floors. You wrinkled your nose slightly at the stench of antiseptic stinging at the inside of your skull and settled for a five minute wait.

Just as you raised your head to glance at the clock, the door John had walked through opened, and a nurse stuck her head out.

"Is there a (Y/N) Price here?" You stood up immediately, mouth going dry at the thought that something could have gone wrong. It was only a blood sample, what the hell could have happened?

"Yes, yes that's me- is everything alright?" You asked, squeezing your phone so tight your knuckles were going white.

"No need to worry! We're just having a little trouble, would you be able to come in?" You nodded and followed her in. Your eyes landed on your very embarrassed, jumpy husband.

"John?" You asked, coming closer to him but he kept his eyes fixed on the floor.

"I don't like needles." He mumbled as you took his hand, immediately feeling his weight against your shoulder. "Apparently when I'm home, I can't cope so well."

"Oh John... Sweetheart, you could've told me." You said, kissing his cheek and taking his massive shoulders under your arms as he pressed his hot, red face into your neck.

And that was how you wound up with your 6'3 200+lbs husband half in your lap, stroking his hair and holding his hand while he had his blood sample taken, and walked out hand in hand. In return for your silence, he bought you a pastry, which you accepted, but promised him wasn't needed. Inwardly you were actually pleased that he felt safe enough with you near him to not force down his fears, to express them and by extension, himself.

If the 141 boys ever saw him with you they'd hardly recognise him, he's the same guy, his personality never changes, but he's a hundred times more expressive in every way.

idk this just kinda poured outta my head lmao

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iluvmattsbeard · 5 months

Text

2 on (c.s)

master list

chris sturniolo x reader

warnings: smut/smoking/swearing

preview: you’ve been stressing out about everything lately. you and your best friend Chris decided to hang out. he has an idea to help you with your stress. later on, you wake up to see videos and photos on your phone from the night before leaving you flustered.

a/n: LIKES, COMMENTS, AND REBLOGS ARE HIGHLY APPRECIATED! was obsessed with this song in middle school with no idea wtf it was talking about. now, i want to feel like this song all the time 💀 i wrote this because i saw someone on here say they would want to have high sex with Chris so i took it into my own hands to write the fantasy out.

it was a Saturday night as you laid there in bed scratching your head in frustration. you were currently in college, your work has been piling up having you stressed. you stare at your computer with an irritated look as you look at the new assignments that have been added. “more?!” you groan. you shut your computer as you look at the ceiling and sigh, “how the fuck am i suppose to get through this?” you whisper to yourself. school was not your strong suit.

when you lay there in your thoughts, you hear your phone ring. you pick it up speaking, “hey Chris.” “hey Y/n. what you up to right now?” he says. you let out a sigh, “busy with assignments. these teachers are piling it on me.” you say. “oh so you’re busy right now?” he asks. you look at your closed computer as you sigh, “not really. i just had given up.” you hear him let out a soft chuckle, “well i wanted to hang out if you’re down.” he says.

“i could use a breather.” you say looking at the clock on your wall, “i could stop by for a bit. maybe i’ll make you do my work.” you say jokingly. “absolutely not Y/n.” he says making you laugh. “i was just joking. i’ll be there in a bit.” you say getting up from your bed. “alright i’ll see you.” he says before hanging up.

you throw on a jacket and some sweatpants before picking up your car keys and head over to Chris’ house. when you arrive, you get out your car and look at yourself in your car window. even if you were just hanging out, didn’t mean you couldn’t look cute. you then head over to his front door and ring the door bell. Chris opens the door immediately greeting you with a smile, “hey come in.” he says opening the door more to let you in. you walk in as he closes the door behind you.

you collapsed on the couch, laying your head back on the pillow as he sits on the couch across from you. “what’s wrong y/n?” he asks concerned, looking at you. you let out a sigh before speaking, “i don’t know if i can keep up with all the assignments. the only reason why i’m in college is because i want to make my parents proud. not because i want to in general.” his eyes stay on you, “well you need to give yourself breaks you know that right?” he says with a soft chuckle. you look up at him as you give a blank stare, “i don’t think i have time for that.” you say. he shrugs, “hey i mean you’re here now.” he says with a slight smile.

you roll your eyes before speaking, “yeah i’m here as my assignments are at home piled up. waiting for me to complete them.” he lets out a scoff with a smile, “well, you can’t just force to overwork yourself.” he says getting up. “where are you going?” you ask with curiosity. “to go get something.” he replies walking to the hallway. you sat there as you look at your hands. eventually, he comes back with a bag. “what’s that?” you say seeing him sit back down in front of him.

“something that’ll help you relax.” he says pulling out another bag that had chunks of weed in it. your eyes widen a bit staring at it, “since when do you smoke?” you ask. he smiles a bit at your question, “doesn’t matter.” he says opening the grinder that was on the table. he puts some pieces in it before shutting it and twisting it, making the pieces loose. “well i’m curious because why haven’t i noticed.” you ask with a laugh. “that scent is so strong.” he was focused on the grinder for a few minutes as he opens it, placing it on the table. you sit there as you watch him place the weed into some paper. he rolls it perfectly. you could tell he did this often. he looks at you with a smirk, “do you want me to help make the stress go away?” he asks.

you look into his eyes confused a bit. what do you mean he helps you? wouldn’t it be the weed helping? you thought. “uh i don’t know i’ve never done this before.” you say fixing your posture. “do you trust me?” he asks in a low tone. his eyes did not move from your as he plays with the joint in his hand. you gulp as you nod, “yes i trust you.” he grins as he places the joint in between his lips and lights it up. he inhales as he stands up and steps in front of you. he places a hand under your chin, lifting it to look up at him. your head was lined up with his crotch perfectly. you look up at him and stare at him. his hand held onto your jaw as his lips came inches closer from yours. you open your mouth slightly as he blows the smoke into your mouth.

he stays close to your lips as you inhale. he watches your face closely as you let out the smoke lightly. a grin appears from his mouth. you look into his eyes and at his lips. the scent that came from his mouth, caused by the weed, was intoxicating. he stands back up straight, still looking down at you before passing the joint to you. you take it as he goes and sits back down across from you, repeating the same actions again, making himself his own. you sat there taking hits as you let it cloud your mind. it really was helping everything ease. after he was done, he lights it up and starts doing the same as you. he sat there, leaned back, taking hits.

it was silent the whole time as you sat there in your now cleared mind. you felt your eyes start to get heavy. you tap your joint on the ash tray as you felt Chris’ eyes on you intensely. you look up at him as he’s leaned back with his eyes also heavy. it was extremely attractive. the way he licked his lips slightly as he kept eye contact. you felt a knot in your stomach. “is it helping?” he asks with a slight rasp in his low voice. “yeah it really is.” you say quietly. you felt yourself overheating. “are you okay?” he asks.

“y-yeah! i’m great.” you stutter out slightly. he lets out a soft laugh as he puts out his joint. you do the same before taking off your hoodie. mid way doing it, you forgot you had no shirt under. Chris stares at you with his heavy clouded eyes as his jaw clenches. “i forgot i didn’t have a shirt.” you say quietly. a sly smile appears from him as he speaks, “i don’t mind.” you look into his eyes again as you stared at him eagerly. “why don’t you come here?” he says with his arms out on each side of him, on the top of the couch, leaned back. you gulp as you stand up walking over to him. he sits up placing his hands on your hips as he pulls you down onto his lap.

he looks at your tits as they sat perfectly in your bra. he then gets closer to them as he leaves soft wet kisses on them. you felt your stomach have the same knot when he does so. “you’re so beautiful.” he lets out looking up at you as he continues kissing up from your tits to the side of your neck. your breathing started to get hitched as you shift slightly on top of him. his hands were rubbing the sides of your body as he then started to suck on your neck. your heavy eyes gave in shut as you threw your head back slightly, letting out a quiet moan. you felt him get hard beneath you.

he chuckles a bit in the crook of your neck, “you like that?” he says pulling away, looking at the marks he left on your skin. you weakly open your heavy eyes and look at him as you nod. “do you want me to help you more get rid of the stress?” you answer with no hesitation, “yes please Chris.” he smirks before carrying you, leading you into his room. he lays you on the bed as he hungrily attaches his lips back onto your chest as he trails down his kisses down to your lower stomach. he was taking his time admiring your body. he then tugs down your sweatpants, throwing them onto the floor. his kisses still trailed down your body as he starts to kiss in between your thighs. you looked down at him as you feel yourself start to get wet.

he then places a kiss on top of your clothed core as his eyes looked up at you. you bit your lip softly as you felt yourself flinch a bit from the action. he then moves his eyes back down to what he was doing as he pulls down your now soaked panties. you felt the cold air hit your aching core. he licks his lips looking at your plump cunt. he immediately shoves his face in between your legs as you gasp softly from the sudden action. “C-Chris.” you stutter out. you shut your eyes and tangled your hand in his hair. it’s like his tongue knew what to do so well.

he knew what parts would make you go crazy. he swirled his tongue on your clit as you grip onto his hair, pushing your hips up, burying his face more into you. you could feel his slight stubble on his face as he eats you out. “fuck Chris. your tongue feels so good.” you moan out. he smirks a bit as he pulls himself away. your pussy ached at the action.

you look at him with your clouded eyes as he does the same licking his lips. “sit up.” he demands. you do as he says as his eyes still admire your body. “take it off.” he says pointing at your bra. without breaking eye contact, you put your hands behind your back as you unclasp your bra, letting it fall off your chest. he grins as he takes in the sight from the slight bounce your tits made from being released. “you’re perfect.” he says taking off his shirt. you trail your eyes from his eyes, down to his body. he pulls down his sweats as he reveals a hard imprint in his boxers. you sit yourself on the edge of the bed as he gets his crotch closer to you in front of your face.

he grabs your phone as you look up at him. “i want to be able to capture this. maybe next time you’re stressed, you can look back at these.” he says looking down at you through the camera. you pull down his boxers as his dick springs up from being released. you gulp staring at the veiny cock. his tip was oozing pre cum as you licked your lips. he takes his cock into his hand, “stick your tongue out.” he demands. you do as he says as he slaps it lightly on your tongue, taking a picture. you see a slight smirk appear on his face as you suddenly push your mouth onto him. he groans at the sudden action as he watches as you sucked him off. he places his free hand on your cheek as he speaks, “you’re so pretty with my dick in your mouth.” your eyes were looking up into his as he continues to watch. you picked up the pace as you pushed him deeper down your throat. he wraps your hair around his hand as he grips it, suddenly thrusting in your mouth causing you to gag.

he takes a picture of you gagging on his dick as tears rolled down your cheeks. he moans lowly, “you take it so good.” after a bit, he eventually pulls you away from his cock as he lays you down. he automatically lines himself up in front of your entrance as he takes another photo. he then pushes into you slowly as he began to stretch you out. “oh fuck.” he lets out. he takes another picture as his cock is partially hidden inside your core. your folds hugged his length perfectly. he puts down your phone as he began to slam himself into you, spreading your legs apart. you scream from pleasure with your eyes shut.

“fuck y/n. you feel so good.” he moans with the same raspy voice. it only made you more turned on. he puts his hand down to your clit as he moved his thumb in a circular motion on it. you moan loudly, “y-yes Chris keep doing that.” “you like that huh? you aren’t thinking about anything else hm?” he says thrusting into you deeply. “n-no. only you.” you moan softly. he smirks continuously thrusting. you were kept moaning repeatedly as he hit your g spot constantly. you couldn’t take it anymore. you arch your back as you moan out, releasing all over his cock.

“that’s it baby. cum all over this dick.” he says as he grunts gripping onto your legs that were on his shoulders. you laid there as you watched him get closer to his high. he suddenly pulls out quickly as he shoots his warm liquid all over your stomach.

·:*¨༺ ♱✮♱ ༻¨*:·

you start to wake up as you flutter your eyes open slowly. you let out a stretch as you looked around. you forgot you spent the night with Chris because he didn’t want you driving home. you turn your head to see him laid on his stomach shirtless snoring. you laugh quietly at him. you realized you didn’t have clothes on, your mind instantly flooded with what happened last night. you pick up your phone as you unlocked it, going to your camera roll.

the photos that Chris took popped up as your eyes widen and your cheeks turned red. you put your phone onto your chest as you looked up at the ceiling, remembering what he said, “maybe next time you’re stressed, you can look back at these.” you gulp at the moment that replayed in your head.

a/n: i hope you enjoyed this! i’m really appreciating the support from a lot of you guys. it really brightens up my day!

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justice-artblog · 12 days

Text

Had a vivid thought

Prior to his current friends, Saiki's room is painstakingly bare. No pictures, Books of the most normal things including obscure stories, his bed is only made for comfort but no fun. His TV is standard, his desk having no noticeable scratches or morks or doodles.

And the first time any of his friends head up to his room, it's clocked in how bare bones everything is. As if the Saiki was ready to drop and move at a moments notice sort of deal.

And of course they go to remedy that.

Kaidou brings in old games for Saiki to play, lending him his consol time to time. It's also a perfect excuse to join him to play games. Saiki seems to know everything before even playing, but it's about the fun more than the story!

Nendou brings different books and manga's to Saiki's home, replacing some of the math and history books with books about random animal facts, one scary book, and a particularly raunchy one that Saiki immediately throws back in his bag.

Kuboyasu coming in with Plushies galore cause he has ZERO idea what to get his homie. But normies like these soft plushies, so clearly Saiki would adore them! Except he gets the weirdest ones, little guys that are very creepy but Kusuo has stashed up on the corner of his bed.

And slowly his room is filled with life that was sorely missing.

Teruhashi stashes cuter plushies alongside Kuboyasu, in order to not overwhelm Saiki with a lot, they have agreed to limit the amount they get and the size. They both pitch in to get a giant sitting pkushie on the floor that you could flop over

Chiyo and Mera tag team in pictures, decorating the frames and taking random pics of Siaki or their friends to hang up on the wall or placs on his desk. They get a pin board to pin up the photos.

Toritsuka absolutely hides magazines under Saiki's bed. The first time Saiki finds em he really wants to murder Reita, but it's actually one of the sweets magazines and none of his horndog ways. So he lets him live... For now.

Aiura stashes beads and Kandi everywhere, she has absolutely bedazzled Kusuo's lamp.

Akechi slips in movies of all kinds, detective ones where Kusuo needs to pay attention and purposefully thinking up of Random Babble so he doesnt accidentally spoil the psychic.

Saiko goes above and beyond and buys Siaki a new bed. He does check in with the other Plebians to make sure it... Ya know... Fits. It's so comfy and the new comforters are still plain in design

He does also buy a little cat house for Amp outdoors cause they all know that the cat is something Saiki secretely adores even if he doesnt outwardly show it.

Yuuta probably leaves Cyborg Cider man action figures scattered around the room every once in awhile, And Saiki has to meticulously clean them and display them so that Yuuta doesnt forget about them next times he's over.

Like i just want one moment where Saiki is there, laying down in bed, playing on the borrowed Switch with a plushie behind his head instead of a pillow and just the the realization that his room is not a room anymore. It's his room.

#tdolsk #kusuo saiki #saiki k #i have a vision #and that is forcing Saiki to realize he has friends that care about him and not realizing it until waaaaay late

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bellaxgiornata · 29 days

Text

A Favor from the Devil |Chapter Five|

Pairing: Matt Murdock x fem!Mom!Reader Word Count: 4.5k [Series Masterlist]

Warnings/tags: 18+; Domestic abuse, depictions/mentions of sexual assault, struggles with past trauma, canon-typical violence, angst with a happy ending, friends to lovers, slow burn, eventual smut (possibly more warnings to come)

a/n: Another update to this little series that I'm really enjoying working on! Feedback and reblogs are always appreciated!

Tag list: @kee-0-kee @dethspllz @a-half-empty-g1rl @senjoritanana @kezibear @sleepysleepymom @danzer8705 @scriptedmoon @flowher @wanda-maxamommy @guccicloudz @loves0phelia @withasideofmeg @mattmurdock-wife24 @sarraa-26 @mylastarrival @mdanon027 @kmc1989 @abiisscared @dreamtofus @rebeccapineapple @peterman-spideyparker @littlenosoul @writtenbyred

Rubbing at your tired eyes, they’d begun to burn from staring at your computer screen all day long. The mindless data entry you'd been doing for most of the day had been turning your brain to mush, your eyes frequently glancing down at the corner of your screen to check the time. You were dying for your shift to end so you could pick Evie up from preschool and go relax at home for the evening.

Secretly you were also hoping to hear that her second week at preschool had started off better than her first. You'd already been told by her teacher that she'd been very quiet all of last week, barely speaking unless she absolutely needed to. And it sounded like her lack of speech was affecting her opportunities for making friends in her class, which had only broken your heart to hear. Because every mother just wanted their kids to succeed and be happy, yet here your daughter was seemingly miserable and struggling.

Jaw tightening, your eyelids slowly lowered. All your fault , the voice in your head reminded you. She's like this because of you .

“If I have to stare at a spreadsheet any longer I'm going to lose my damn mind.”

Your eyes flew back open at the familiar voice of Amira behind you. She'd become your only real friend in the city ever since you’d moved here and gotten your job and you always welcomed a free moment to chat with her at work.

Pushing your chair away from your small desk, you turned it around to see her leaning against the entrance to your cubicle. She was raising a mug of steaming tea up to her lips which were stained a dark purple today.

“Gary in the bathroom?” you asked her.

Swallowing down her sip of tea, she nodded before a grin spread on her face. “Of course he is,” she told you. “I swear that man shits at the same time every day.”

Biting your lip, you fought down a laugh. She wasn't wrong, though. Your boss always kept a tight schedule–even when it came to his bathroom breaks.

“Gives us time to catch up, though,” she said. “And I hope your weekend was more eventful than mine because I did nothing but clean and wished I'd won the lottery so I didn’t have to come back to this damn place.”

You shrugged in response. “Not really anything interesting to share on my end,” you told her. “Found a park near our building that I brought Evie to play at. Did some cleaning and some grocery shopping, then I brought Evie to the library for Sunday morning story time. That's about it.”

“Hmm,” Amira hummed out, glancing down at her mug as she tapped a finger thoughtfully along the side of it. “Sounds about as eventful as my weekend.”

You watched as she brought the mug to her lips and took another drink. As she did, your eyes slid over to the clock on the wall behind her. You still had twenty minutes left.

“What about your love life?” Amira asked. “Anything more going on with that?”

A bitter laugh fell out of you as your attention returned to Amira. Shaking your head, you tried to stifle the humorless sound.

“You know I'm not looking for a relationship,” you reminded her. “That's the absolute last thing I want right now.”

“So you mean to tell me if some man asked you out, you wouldn't even consider it?” she asked. “I mean, I'm sure you've got needs, you know?”

You glanced down at your hands that were now fidgeting in your lap. “That's not exactly a priority in my life anymore,” you told her. “And I'm not sure I could even trust someone to get that close again anyway. Besides, the only man who's taken an interest in me is my weird neighbor from across the hall.”

“Oh?” Amira asked, instantly perking up. “Why's he weird?”

“I don't know, I somehow just keep running into him,” you answered with another shrug. “It's just odd. And he's always so…friendly?”

“Like friendly friendly?” she asked. “Or like I'm-going-to-peep-through-your-panty-drawer-when-you're-not-home friendly?”

You shook your head, your mind returning to your neighbor and that damn charming smile of his that he always threw your way. You still weren't entirely sure what to make of him. He'd seemed sincerely concerned when you'd encountered him on the roof that one night, even though you figured there was no way he could know that it was you he'd talked to briefly. And he had brought you that lasagna, which as weird as that had been, you couldn't deny it wasn't a nice gesture. Assuming it really was a no strings attached lasagna.

“I don't know,” you answered. “I haven't exactly figured it out, but I'm also not really interested in trying to, either. As long as he leaves Evie and I alone, I don't really care. But he…brought us a lasagna last week.”

“He did what now?” Amira asked, suddenly straightening up.

“He brought us over an entire lasagna,” you repeated. “Apparently he's a lawyer that does a lot of pro bono work in Hell's Kitchen and I guess his firm often gets paid in food? So he brought us a literal whole lasagna.”

Amira's head tilted to the side, her eyes narrowing curiously back at you as her finger began tapping against her mug again.

“Is he one of the men from Nelson, Murdock, and Page?” she questioned.

“That sounds about right,” you answered.

“Alright girl, now you need to tell me which man it is. Nelson or Murdock?” she pressed. “Cause they are both fine as hell and I've only ever heard good things about them.”

“Murdock, I think?” you answered, brow furrowing in thought. “He said his name was Matthew?”

Amira let out a long, low whistle that only had the crease between your furrowed brows growing. A bright smile lit up her face immediately at the look of confusion that landed on your own.

“Are you telling me,” she began, “that Matthew Murdock, the hottest lawyer in the goddamn Kitchen with a heart as big as his ass, is your weird and friendly neighbor?”

“Yes?” you replied hesitantly.

Amira barked out a laugh, shaking her head. “I would let that man peep through my panty drawer while I'm home if he was my neighbor. Are you kidding me? That man is sexy as hell and with all the things I've heard about him in bed?”

You pulled a face at her comment, your nose immediately scrunching up. If his sexual prowess had somehow landed in your co-worker’s ears then you could only imagine what that said about him. Good in bed or not, that definitely didn’t brighten your view of the man.

“So he sleeps around, I assume?” you asked her, a look of disdain still on your face. “Because then I can completely assure you that he's absolutely not my type.”

Amira sent you a stern, serious look, her laughter immediately fading. “I think he'd be great for you, actually,” she said matter-of-factly. “He's a kind-hearted man who'd fuck you senseless and then leave you be. What more could you want?”

“The just being left alone part?” you half-joked. “Seriously, I don't care what he looks like or how good in bed he is, I don't want anyone, Mira. I've got enough on my mind as it is.”

“You're right,” she agreed, tone softening. “In all seriousness, how've you been holding up?”

Leaning back in your chair, you exhaled a long sigh. You were close with Amira, and she understood quite a bit about your situation, but you still weren't about to be entirely honest with her. It wasn’t necessary for her to know absolutely everything about your past.

“I've been alright,” you answered. “Things are going as good as they can, I guess. Wish this job would give me a raise so I could afford living here, but I'm making it work.”

“How're the nightmares?” Amira asked.

You shrugged. “I don't think Evie is having nightmares exactly, they're more like–”

“I meant you,” she cut in, shooting you a knowing look. “I imagine you have them, considering what you’ve been through.”

You could feel your throat closing up and your mouth going dry at the fact that she’d been able to see right through you so easily. How she kept managing to do that remained a mystery to you. Hands beginning to tug at the hem of your blouse, your attention returned to where they fidgeted once more in your lap.

“I'm–I'm fine,” you lied. “I'm managing.”

“You know, I think you'd benefit from some self-defense classes,” Amira said slowly. “Probably make you feel a whole lot safer at least. Have you considered something like that?”

“You know I can't afford self-defense classes,” you told her quietly. “I'm lucky to pay rent on time and put some food on the table as it is. Anything extra goes to Evie.”

Amira opened her mouth, clearly about to say more, but her eyes darted over the top of your cubicle. A frown settled on her lips as her eyes narrowed and you immediately recognized what that look meant.

“Appears his bathroom break is over,” she grumbled, pushing off of your cubicle wall. “Guess that's my cue to pretend I'm busy until we can get the hell out of here.”

You sent her a strained smile before she ducked out of your cubicle. Slowly turning your chair around back towards your desk, you sighed in defeat as your work glared back at you on the screen. Eyes darting down to the clock on your computer, your shoulders dropped when you saw you still had fifteen minutes left.

The elevator felt like it was moving exceptionally slow this evening, partly because you were eager to get back to your apartment and change out of your work clothes already, and partly because the lift had been fairly crowded tonight with everyone else coming home from work.

As you impatiently waited for the elevator to make its multiple stops on its ascent to the top floor, Evie silently held your hand, her eyes remaining fixed on the numbers changing above the doors each time it stopped at a new floor. She’d barely spoken more than four times on your entire walk home. From what you’d gathered from the lopsided conversation, this week of preschool had started off about the same as her previous one, which had only further dampened your mood after the long day at work. So when the doors of the elevator had finally opened onto the sixth floor and you’d stepped out of it with Evie in tow, you weren't thrilled to see that not only was your strange, friendly neighbor in the hallway, but he was in the hallway with two other people.

Your hand gripped Evie’s tighter in yours as you reluctantly began to make your way down the hall towards your apartment and inevitably towards the small group that was chatting in front of your neighbor’s door. You desperately hoped you’d be able to get away with just giving them a polite smile before ducking inside your apartment, but your hopes were dashed the moment the pretty blonde woman on your neighbor’s left spotted you passing the door to 6C and making your way ever closer to them.

“Oh, Matt, I think your neighbor is actually home!” she exclaimed. “What perfect timing!”

Briefly pausing midstep, your eyes grew wide in fright at being acknowledged by the little group. What could they possibly have wanted with you ? Trying to regain your composure, you plastered a stiff smile on your face, but your pulse increased the second your neighbor’s covered gaze fixed on you. It felt as if he was looking right at you, almost as if he knew exactly where you were walking as you finished making your way down the hallway. The gentleman on his other side turned at the waist, focusing his attention on you next. You wished that you could drag Evie straight through the wall into your apartment with how uncomfortable all three sets of eyes were currently making you feel. You heard Matthew say your name and the hair on your forearms rose at the impending conversation.

“Yeah?” you answered awkwardly, pausing in front of your door.

Directly across the hall, Matthew took one step towards you before holding out a hand. Eyes darting down at what he was offering you, your brows shot up onto your forehead in surprise when you noticed it was a plate of peanut butter cookies covered in cling wrap. Beside you, you heard the excited inhale from Evie just before she began ecstatically tugging at your hand.

So he hadn’t forgotten the cookies he’d mentioned to your daughter a few days ago when he had dropped off that lasagna. You’d entirely expected him to, but now you supposed you’d at least give him credit for not crushing her hopes. She’d certainly excitedly mentioned the cookies he’d promised to you a few times over the duration of the weekend, and you’d tried your best to prepare her for disappointment when he inevitably forgot that he’d ever brought them up. But here he was proving you wrong and not disappointing your daughter like so many others would have.

“If I recall,” Matthew began, a broad smile on his face, “I think I owe someone peanut butter cookies today. If that’s still alright with your mother, of course.”

Evie’s head immediately darted up in your direction, her eyes big and pleading. “Please, mama?”

You knew there was absolutely no way you were about to deny her and decline the baked goods, especially after having already agreed to accept them in the first place. Trying to maintain that strained smile on your face, you briefly released Evie’s hand and cautiously took the two steps across the hall to accept the plate from Matthew’s outstretched hand. Your heart was pounding loudly in your ears the whole time, your body begging you to just get inside and away from this situation already.

“Thank you,” you replied quietly, taking those two steps immediately backwards towards your door and grabbing Evie’s hand again. “I know Evie appreciates that you remembered her.”

Matthew had opened his mouth to reply, but your daughter shocked the both of you when she spoke before he’d even had the opportunity to get a single word out. Your eyes flew to her in surprise the moment you’d heard her voice.

“Thank you, Mr. Murdock,” she said.

For a second you stood there dumbfounded, holding the plate of cookies in one hand as you stared down at your daughter. She had intentionally raised her voice when she'd spoken, speaking loud enough to be heard–something that wasn't common for your daughter because she often spoke so softly whenever she did speak. As you openly gaped down at her, you saw that she was even smiling up at him, wearing a smile so bright you couldn’t even recall the last time you’d seen one like it on her face.

“You’re very welcome, Evie,” Matthew replied, having focused on the place where she stood when she’d spoken. “Maybe another day I can bring you something else from the office. Assuming, of course, your mother is okay with it.”

His attention returned to you and you immediately began shaking your head. Whatever this was, you weren't about to begin accepting his constant charity. Or worse–to feel like you owed him something in return after the conversation you'd had with Amira earlier today. You absolutely weren’t about to sleep with your neighbor to thank him for his kindness.

“Oh, no, really,” you began, “This was plenty already. You don't need to bring us anything else.”

“Mrs. Anderson makes a mean cherry pie,” the gentleman beside Matthew said, drawing your eyes towards him. “You might not want to say no until you’ve tasted it. It will quite literally change the way you see the world.”

You shot him a tight, friendly smile as you once more shook your head. “I’m sure it’s great,” you continued politely, “but really, that’s alright. We don’t–”

“Who’s that?”

You stopped short at the sound of Evie’s question. Head shifting over your shoulder, you saw Evelynn’s little hand pointing across the hall. Following her finger’s path, you saw she was pointing at a newspaper partially folded beneath the blonde woman’s arm. The woman looked startled before she glanced down at the newspaper tucked against her body.

“Oh,” she exclaimed softly, slowly beginning to pull it out from beneath her arm.

She glanced down at the front page before exchanging a look with the man on Matthew’s left immediately afterwards. Something strange and tense seemed to settle among the three of them as they stood across the hall from you. Clearing her throat, the woman quickly plastered a smile on her face before she turned, bending partially over and holding out the picture on the front page of the paper for Evie to see.

“You mean the man in this photograph?” she asked.

Evie nodded quickly, her eyes wide and glued to the image that you couldn’t quite see at this angle.

“That’s Daredevil,” the woman answered.

You briefly caught a note of something strange in the way she’d replied, but the thought completely left your mind when Evie whipped around towards you, her finger still pointing to the paper.

“That’s him, mama!” she shouted.

Pulling a face, you shook your head in confusion. “That’s who, cricket?” you asked.

“The man!” she exclaimed. “On the roof!”

“What?” you asked.

The woman straightened, a smile on her lips as she showed you the paper. Your eyes narrowed, squinting at the dark and somewhat blurry image of a man in a costume crouched on a roof. You could vaguely make out the shape of something like horns on his helmet.

Eyes flying up toward the woman, panic rose within you. If this psycho was real, then there really was a man out on the rooftops that your daughter had been seeing. Which was a completely horrifying thought.

“Who is that?” you nearly demanded. “The deranged man running around in a devil suit?”

“Oh, uh,” the woman stammered, clearly taken by surprise. “Daredevil isn’t–he's not crazy. He's just uh–”

“Kind of like a superhero who beats up bad guys,” the man next to Matthew quickly cut in. “Though technically he is considered a vigilante.”

Quirking a brow at him, you shook your head in disbelief. “A superhero vigilante?” you asked skeptically. “What do you mean?”

“He’s known to protect Hell’s Kitchen,” your neighbor’s smooth voice cut in, your eyes drawn back towards him. “You don’t have to be afraid of him, though. I can assure you, it’s well known that he’s never harmed anyone that wasn’t a criminal.”

“I’m sorry,” you said, eyes narrowing at him, “but there’s a madman dressed as a devil running around on the rooftops near my daughter’s bedroom at night and you think I have nothing to worry about?”

“He’s more like a protector, not a lunatic!” the other man told you. “He protects the people of Hell’s Kitchen specifically. He’s rescued all kinds of people from human traffickers, he’s stopped various gangs–”

“He even saved my life,” the blonde added, a hesitant smile on her face. “Once or twice.”

“And he’s helped our law firm put bad men away,” your neighbor said. “I can assure you, he’s not a danger to you or your daughter. No matter how…startling it is to hear your daughter say that she’s seen him outside of her window.”

Jaw tightening, your eyes darted around the three of them, scrutinizing them closely. It was strange how quick they were to defend this costumed lunatic. You also weren’t thrilled at the prospect of a violent man running around outside your apartment at night while you and your daughter slept. How were you supposed to believe his violence was any different than Daniel’s? How could you trust he wouldn’t break into your apartment and hurt either of you? How could you know he was safe?

“I told you.”

Evie’s small voice broke through your thoughts, your attention returning down towards her. She was smiling proudly up at you, the sight only further confusing you.

“Told me what, cricket?” you asked.

“He protects us,” she answered.

Frowning, you found you weren’t entirely sure what to make of the masked vigilante that this city seemed to respect, especially after the comments these three had made. And you didn’t quite understand why your daughter wasn’t afraid of him and repeatedly kept seeing him at night–something that made you more uncomfortable now knowing he wasn’t imaginary.

But you knew there was nothing you or the three people across from you could do about this Daredevil, and you really wanted to end this interaction already. Clearing your throat, you glanced back over at Matthew. There was a conflicted twist to the shape of his mouth, the corners a bit downturned. You ignored it, the feeling of your growing panic the only thing that mattered right now.

“Thank you for the cookies,” you said tersely, “but I should probably get Evie inside and make dinner. I hope you have a good evening.”

You turned your back on the three of them, releasing Evie’s hand so you could dig the apartment key out of your purse. In a hurry you began to unlock your apartment door, not remotely surprised when you heard your neighbor behind you.

“I hope you both enjoy your evening as well,” he replied. “And like I said, I’m just across the hall if you ever need anything.”

Biting the inside of your cheek, you pushed your door open without a backwards glance or another word. You ushered Evie quickly inside your apartment before you darted in after her, locking the door and the deadbolt behind you.

“Seriously, man?” Foggy asked in exasperation. “Her little girl has already been seeing you out on the roof? They’ve only been here a week, Matt! You need to be more careful!”

“I thought I was being careful!” Matt shot back, pacing in front of his apartment windows with his hands on his hips. “I didn’t think she’d caught me the first night when I’d been on their fire escape, but she must be seeing me when I’m heading back home at night.”

“You do need to be more cautious,” Karen warned from the couch. “You don’t need her to see you heading back into your apartment. That could be dangerous.”

Foggy let out a low groan, his body slumping forward in one of the armchairs. Matt ran a hand across his mouth, feeling a little rush of panic inside of himself. He really hadn’t realized your daughter had been so aware of him coming home in the evenings. She was surprisingly observant.

“The last thing we need,” Foggy complained, “is for your neighbor to realize who Daredevil really is and to take that information to the authorities. That’s dangerous information that could get you killed, Matt. Or disbarred and imprisoned. Hell, it could get all of us disbarred and sent to prison!”

Matt shook his head, still continuing his pacing. “That won’t happen, Fog. I won’t let it, don’t worry,” he assured him.

“Well,” Karen began slowly, tucking a strand of hair behind her ears, “at least her daughter trusts Daredevil. Even if her mother thinks he’s batshit crazy. I suppose that’s something. I don’t know what, but it’s something.”

“Not helping,” Matt grumbled. “I don’t need her to be more terrified in her apartment than she already is. I imagine her being put further on edge won’t make it any easier for me to get closer to her.”

“Matt, buddy, did you ever think that maybe she won’t want your help?” Foggy questioned. “Maybe you should just, I don’t know, let this one go? You can’t help everyone, dude. I mean, she seemed pretty cold at the end of that conversation out there.”

“She seemed scared,” Karen softly corrected, her attention focusing on Foggy. “She was scared, not cold, Foggy. There’s a difference.”

Matt came to a stop at the edge of his rug, his hands readjusting the waistband of his dress pants. He’d felt your fear the moment your daughter had recognized Daredevil as the man she’d apparently been seeing at night in that newspaper. It was just as strong of a rush of the feeling through your body as when you’d first seen him in the hallway. Daredevil terrified you.

“Karen’s right,” Matt told Foggy. “I could feel her fear. Someone has her afraid. And the thought of some other violent man running around the city at night only seemed to scare her further. Something is going on, and I’m not going to stop until I figure out what.”

“Dude–”

“ No ,” Matt nearly growled the word out, immediately quieting Foggy. “Don’t you tell me to let this go. They’re a part of Hell’s Kitchen, Fog. And I’m going to make sure they’re safe. Because no one hurts the people of my city. I won’t allow it.”

“Alright,” Foggy relented, nodding his head slowly. “Okay. I hear you, Matt. I just worry you’re going to drive her away in your best attempts to do the opposite is all. She seems quite set on keeping you at a distance.”

Foggy wasn’t wrong. Matt knew you were repeatedly pushing him away at every opportunity he took to get closer. And he was afraid of pushing a little too hard and having the opposite effect of what he was after. But your daughter, somehow, seemed to be reacting to him differently now. That first night when you’d both run into him in the hall after moving in, she’d matched your terror. But tonight…he hadn’t felt her fear towards him. Or towards Karen and Foggy. Though you were still putting your walls up.

“He protects us.”

Your daughter’s words about Matt’s alter ego ran through his mind. She’d been so positive in that thought, he’d read it in the tone of her voice and the steady beat of her heart. She wasn’t afraid of Daredevil, not like you appeared to be. And hearing that from a scared little girl had somehow further softened him to the both of you in that moment. This was quickly becoming less a matter of Matt trying to do the right thing while attempting to keep the people of his city safe, and instead steadily becoming something personal to him. Even if he didn’t fully understand why exactly that was himself.

“I’ll figure it out,” Matt murmured, running a hand across his forehead. “Somehow, I’ll figure out how to get them to let me in so I can help.”

#matt murdock x reader #matt murdock angst #matt murdock x you #matt murdock #daredevil

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humansofnewyork · 1 year

Photo

“The whole world’s a fucking casino. In a casino some of the smartest people in the world are doing everything to keep you gambling. They’ve taken the clocks off the wall. They’re pumping in oxygen. They’ve even thought about the patterns on the carpet. Everything has been scientifically engineered to keep you pulling that lever. And that’s our entire world now. It’s one big casino where some of the smartest people in the world are asking themselves: ‘What is the best way I can get people to eat more? What is the best way I can get people to watch more pornography? Or take more pills? How can I use artificial intelligence to serve people the exact succession of sixty second videos that will keep them staring at their screen for an entire day?’ I used to be a personal responsibility guy. A big reason for that is I have insane discipline. If I needed to completely stop eating candy for ten years, I could do it. Done. So if I ever saw someone who was obese, I’d think, I could do it. Put me in the exact same situation, and I’d lose the weight. But now whenever I see an obese person on the jogging trail, I just want to give them a hug. It’s almost enough to make me cry. I think God, this must be so fucking hard for you. And it’s going to take perfection: insane discipline, and time, and money, and listening to all the right podcasts. Every day of the week needs to be perfectly regimented. Five years of absolute perfection. That’s what it’s going to take. Because a ton of the smartest people in the world are getting paid massive amounts of money to figure out a way to make you fail.”

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reidsdimples · 2 months

Text

Doctor, Stalker, Special Agent

Spencer Reid x BAU!Reader

18+❤️‍🔥 MDNI‼️

TW: Unhinged/stalker/unraveling Spencer, smut, stalking

Too far, Spencer had gone too far and he knew it. But he was too far gone now to turn back. You were consuming him.

Click

You remove your shirt

Click

You remove your pants

He licks his lips and adjusts the lens on his camera. You are an absolute masterpiece. He can’t get enough of you.

Click

You stretch out like you always say after a long day. You bend over and touch your toes, giving him and your open window a full view of your perfect ass.

Click

You had driven him crazy all day. It was like you knew what you were doing to him- leaning down so your breasts peak out of your shirt right in his face. Grazing your ass against his thigh to walk past him in the bullpen. You even snatched his apple that day and bit it before tossing it back to him. He relished eating after you. He knew he wasn’t being himself.

He waited for you to finish stretching, pressing a palm against his aching cock to keep his need at bay. Finally you stepped into the bathroom and tossed your underwear and bra onto the floor outside the bathroom door.

He was quick, easing into the room as stealthily as possible. He snatched the sinful white lace panties off the floor and slid them into his back pocket with a smirk.

You wouldn’t miss them.

Maybe.

He inhaled the smell of your shampoo wafting from the other side of the slightly ajar bathroom door. He couldn’t get enough of your unique sent, even moaning as it engulfed him.

He finally decides to leave through the window which he came, slowly and with all his strength turning away from the object of his desire -naked and wet- just feet away.

“Oh fuck,” you mewl. Stopping him in his tracks as your angelic voice carries into the bedroom. “Dr.Reid-“

He couldn’t be hearing this correctly. There’s no way.

“Harder, right there,” you moan.

He gets closer the bathroom and can hear the sounds of you finger fucking yourself in the shower. Lewd squelching and moans have his dick standing at attention once more.

“Reid fuck!” You exclaim as you cum.

He braces himself against the wall, nearly exploding in his pants at the heavenly sound.

He had to go. Now.

So he did, he hurried out of the window and crashed into the drivers seat of his car-panting. He couldn’t help it, he pulled out his cock and pumped himself a few times until he finished while biting into your underwear.

—

“Coffee! Yay!” You squeak as Garcia hands one to you and Prentiss.

“No major case to brief on right now, Hotch wants everyone working their statements and files today,” JJ informs.

“Sweet,” Morgan snatches a donut from the counter and scoots out of the break area.

“Whoa what happened to you pretty boy?” Morgan whoops as Dr. Reid enters the bullpen looking particular sleep deprived.

“Long night,” he sighs.

You try not to watch him take those long strides to his desk, try not to focus on his disheveled hair and five o clock shadow. And was his tie crooked?

“Wonder what his deal is,” Prentiss frowns. You and Garcia shrug as he approaches for coffee.

“Morning Reid,” you beam like usual. His eyes dart to yours then immediately search for something else to look at. He offers you a flat smile.

“What’s up?” JJ tries to perk him up by smiling and elbowing him.

“Oh I know! You watched the Doctor Who marathon didn’t you!” Garcia points at him. “I told you you’d get sucked in and forget to sleep again.”

“I wish. I just couldn’t sleep,” he stirs his coffee and heads back to his desk.

“He’s been acting weird lately,” Prentiss notes.

“Foreal,” JJ agrees.

—

“Do you have that file on Roger West?” You peak over your desk to Reid’s.

He searches his stack and you find yourself licking your lips at watching his deft fingers work.

“No I think Morgan does,” he answers simply.

“Are you okay?” You walk over to his desk and lean against the edge of it.

“Yeah,” he clears his throat. You notice his cheeks turn red.

You reach over to scruff his hair like you’ve done playfully in the past but he captures your wrist. The electricity that jolts between the two of you is undeniable as he stares into your eyes.

There’s a silent acknowledgment of the heat between the two of you and he releases your wrist.

“I gotta- I need to find… I’ll be back,” he awkwardly dismisses himself.

You huff out a shakey breath and contemplate following him. When he doesn’t return in a few minutes, you head down the hallway he took.

“Reid?” You find him sitting at an empty desk in an empty office with his head in his hands

“You shouldn’t be in here,” he grumbles.

“Why? What’s going on with you?” You enter the office anyway and shut the door to give you two some privacy.

“I’m just having a problem, okay?” He shifts in his seat.

“What kind of problem?” You move towards the desk in a way that makes your tits jump. His eyes lock in on them and he throws his head back in frustration.

“You- it’s- you’re driving me crazy,” he breathes. He pushes his hair back from his eyes. When you smirk he tilts his head at you.

“What am I doing?” You play dumb and place your palms on the desk, leaning down and eyeing him.

He adjusts himself again, tugging at the fabric of his pants around what you can only guess is his hard cock. The desk hides it. He exhales a shakey breath.

“Does it hurt?” You glance downward and pout your lip.

“Yes,” he doesn’t hide it.

“And I did that?” You move around the desk.

He looks up at you with pleading puppy dog eyes but then he nods.

“I wanna see it,” you admit as arousal pools between your legs.

“What- I…”

“Please Reid,” you bat your eyelashes and park your ass on the desk in front of his chair. You spread your legs and rest your heels on either armrest.

He is physically shaking, he’s so turned on. You kind of wish you had wore a shorter skirt. But this one still gave him a nice look as your silk clad cunt.

He slowly undoes his zipper while you gently roll your skirt up… up… up. His eyes are fixated on the thin material covering your pussy. He isn’t aware of it but he’s licking his lips.

He pulls his hard cock free, his large hand almost able to wrap around the girth completely. The pink tip is angry and needy and he pumps it as you drag a finger up your core to tease him.

“So pretty, Reid,” you hum and circle your clit.

You buck your hips up and slowly remove your panties while he watches, whimpering and speechless. You slide them into his cardigan pocket.

You place one leg over his shoulder and slide him towards you.

“Do you want it?” You ask him.

“Yes please,” he begs.

“Then be a good boy and make me cum,” you pull him closer until your legs are on his shoulders.

He doesn’t hesitate to drag your hips closer to him, forcing you down on your back as he buries his face in your cunt. He moans into you and he drags his tongue from your entrance to your clit and sucks hard.

“Ah,” you moan softly.

It’s more to an he could have dreamed of, your taste, your moans, he could do this for hours.

He’s pumping his cock while he eats your pussy, greedily shoving his tongue into you and nuzzling against you with his entire face. You find yourself grinding against him, holding his head still while he devours you. His tongue flicks wildly over your clit until you’re biting back your moans.

When you think you can’t take it anymore he puts his cock in his left hand and slides two fingers into your cunt. He curls up while he eats you and works your G-spot. He moans in pleasure as he approaches his own climax.

“Gonna cum while eating me out Dr. Reid?” He grunts into you and focuses on bringing you to your orgasm.

“Fuck baby!” You pant as your stomach muscles tighten.

Then you’re shaking violently as you orgasm onto his face, clenching around his fingers which don’t stop fucking into you.

That’s it for him, he rolls the chair back and you watch as hot ropes of cum shoot from his cock. He bites his lip and throws his head back as he finishes himself with a series of lewd moans.

He eyes you as you roll your skirt down and he pushes himself back into his pants. Neither of you speak for a moment and you come down from your orgasms. His cheeks are red and his hair is messy, you reach over and wipe the sides of his mouth.

“My place, eight o clock tonight,” you say and walk towards the door.

He nearly stumbles coming after you.

“Okay, good, yeah,” he stammers awkwardly.

You turn and take his face in your hands, fixing his hair gently.

“It was about time we did something about this,” you smirk and grip his softening cock through his pants. He jolts and lets out a breathy laugh.

You kiss him gently and he returns with a needy sort of passion as he pulls you into him.

The office door opens and you stumble back off of him.

“Woah! Working overtime huh guys?” Morgan laughs.

“It’s not what it looks like!” Reid lies.

“Come on, we got a case,” he shakes his head.

Spencer follows you and Morgan back to the bullpen, he watches your hips sway, watches your hair move as you walk. You have no idea what you had just awoken in him.

Now that he got a taste of you, he wouldn’t be without it again. He checks his wallet to ensure that photo of you sleeping was still safe and sound behind his ID and smiles wickedly to himself.

“Reid? You coming?” You turn and ask.

“Yep!” He slides his wallet back into his pocket and hurries to the round table room.

#spencer reid #mgg #criminal minds #mgg pics #dr reid #spencer reid one shots #spicy spencer reid #spencer reid one shot #spencer reid x bau!reader #spencer reid x you #unsub spencer reid

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thetriumphantpanda · 1 year

Text

illicit affairs | joel & tommy miller

Summary | Two attempts are always better than one, right? If you're serious about getting pregnant then you can't just hope that Joel can manage to do it by trying once every month. It might be wrong, but seeing him camped out on the couch gives you the perfect excuse to try one more time this month, without distractions.

Warnings | Joel Miller being a fucking stud as always, breeding kink, size kink, dubious moral choices by both reader and Joel, Tommy getting cucked (as usual), dirty talk, unprotected PiV sex,

Word Count | 2.7k

Authors Note | Well..... this certainly isn't how I anticipated this series going, but it makes sense, right? Can't just fuck once a month and expect to make a baby. I am absolutely feral for how much you guys are enjoying this series that wasn't meant to be a series and I hope you continue to do so in the future. And also, don't worry, Tommy is back next time in full force, I promise! If you've not read parts one and two, you can find them linked below on the series masterlist - this probably won't make much sense otherwise.

Series Masterlist | Main Masterlist

When Joel wakes the next morning, crick in his neck and lower back screaming at him for a night scrunched up on his brother’s couch, it’s the smell of bacon and the sizzling sound of something cooking in oil that hits him first. He pushes himself up slowly, running a hand over his face before his eyes search for the wall clock. It’s just after seven, he doesn’t have to pick Sarah up for another few hours.

The next thing that strikes him is your voice. It’s quiet, like you’re trying not to wake him up, but you’re singing, or rather humming along to some song on the radio. He doesn’t know what it is, doesn’t care to find out, he just sits and listens for a while, letting the sweet sound almost lull him back to sleep.

When Joel hears the clatter of plates being moved around, he stands, stretching out his back until it cracks in several places. God, he’s getting old. He slowly and softly makes his way to the kitchen, leaning against the doorframe as he watches you. You’re moving scrambled eggs around in the pan on the hob, two plates on the side that already have slices of bacon on them, and he can see slices of bread sat in the toaster waiting to be made. It’s domestic and he realizes he really shouldn’t like seeing it as much as he does. He shouldn’t be here, this should be his brother, but he doesn’t exactly hate it.

“You didn’t have t’make me breakfast.” He speaks, you don’t jump which makes him think you knew he was there all along.

“You didn’t have to sleep on the couch all night,” You counter, looking at him over your shoulder, “I guess we wore each other out, only right I send you off with a hearty breakfast.”

Joel doesn’t really know what he’s doing when he walks deeper into the kitchen. He’s driven by the fact that all you’re wearing is a large flannel shirt, obviously not one of your own, buttoned up over some underwear. You’re fucking magnetic to him, he knows you shouldn’t be, should be as far out of his reach as possible, but he’s only doing you a favour right? The more he repeats it to himself, the more he might believe it.

“What do you think you’re doing?” You speak as his hands play with them hem of the shirt, although your voice is teasing, it doesn’t warn him to stop, almost dares him to go further.

Joel hears you chuckle as his hands palm your ass, “You gonna tell me to stop, pretty girl?”

“You’re trying to get me pregnant, are you not?” You ask, shifting the pan with the eggs off the heat.

“That I am,” Joel is now pressed firmly against your back, hands wandering underneath the shirt to rest on your hips, “But you gotta tell me if you want me to stop, just me and you this mornin’, sweetheart.”

“I’m still good to go,” You murmur, moving your ass into him, feeling his already growing erection in his jeans, “So, give me what I want, stud.”

He doesn’t need telling twice. Never does. He lets his big palm sink beneath the waistband of your underwear, fingers dipping almost immediately through your folds to sink down to where you’re already soaked. He knows some of that has to be him from last night, but as he drags his fingers up, covered in slick to your clit, hearing how you’re already moaning his name, he knows it’s not all him, this is your slick, mixed with him, and it drives him wild. Drives him wild that he’s marked you like this, that you’re just walking around with a piece of him inside of you.

He's almost shocked by how quickly he brings you to the edge with his fingers this morning. Clearly, you’re still sensitive from the four orgasms he gave you the night before, something that still makes his chest puff, his male ego boosted that he went one better than Tommy for you.

“Still all sensitive for me, aren’t you, pretty girl?” He leans down to whisper into your ear as his name falls a mile a minute from your mouth, “Gonna come for me?”

“Fuck – Joel – ohmygod,” He can feel your legs starting to shake, he makes sure the arm he’s got pressed to your lower belly keeps you upright, pressed against him, “Don’t you dare stop.”

“Didn’t plan on it.” He chuckles, letting his tongue lick hot stripes to you ear before he sucks the lobe into his mouth and nibbles.

He feels your legs buckle, but that palm manages to keep you upright as you come for him. The way his name sounds in your high-pitched squeal when you let go for him has his cock throbbing in his jeans. If he was any younger, he could almost guarantee this alone would have him spilling himself into his jeans already.

He lets you catch your breath for a moment as he undoes his jeans, stepping out of them and his underwear, though he leaves his shirt on. He has to be inside you right now or he thinks he might pass out. He drags your own underwear down your legs, kicking them to the side once you’ve stepped out of them, before he’s literally slamming his cock into you with full force.

“Jesus Christ, Joel,” You keen, “Fuck, you’re so big inside me.”

“I know babygirl, I know,” He stills for a moment, letting himself get used to the way your pussy is clenching him, literally pulling him in deeper, “A lot, ain’t it?”

You let out a sigh as Joel pulls himself out before slamming back into you, “I can take it,” You whine, pushing back to meet his thrusts halfway, “Fuck me harder, Joel.”

He brings a hand up to fist your hair, pulling your head back so you’re arching into him, “Careful what you wish for,” He moans, “Beggin’ me to go harder, filthy girl.”

Joel can’t quite believe how good this feels. He thought, when he slid his cock into you from behind that he might feel guilty – bending his brother’s girlfriend over the stove without him knowing anything about it – but the way he’s got his hand tangled in your hair, pulling you back so you arch perfectly for him, his hips snapping into your ass in a way that has his vision blurring, he can’t find it in himself to care. Maybe that makes him a piece of shit, but you asked for this just as much as he wanted to give it to you.

He uses the hand tight in the strands of your hair to pull your face to the side. He presses a wet kiss to your cheek before he can’t stop himself from asking for it any longer, “Kiss me, pretty girl,” He growls, pulling your mouth to within a hair’s breadth of his own, “Give me that last piece of you, I know you want to.”

He can see you hesitate. Can sense the flicker of doubt across your face. He won’t force this, but fucking hell does he want it. Wants to feel those pretty lips on his own, wants to know exactly what your mouth tastes like. He grips your hip with his free hand, fingers digging into the skin, sure enough likely to leave bruises there, as he continues his pounding into you.

All of a sudden, you turn your head fully, your own free hand coming up to tangle in the curls on his head pulling his mouth to yours. The angle makes it messy, more of an open-mouthed mash up of tongues that anything else, but it fucking lights Joel on fire. He pulls away and slips his cock from your tight heat, turning you around so your back is to the stove. He pulls your naked body to his own and attaches his mouth back to yours like his life depended on it.

He can feel his cock slipping between your slick folds as he focuses his attention on his mouth attached to yours. It’s depraved, the way his tongue melds with your own, licking into your mouth like he’s a man starved. Which he technically is, he can’t remember the last time he kissed a woman, let alone one as perfect as you.

When he pulls away from you, hands on your ass to lift you up so he can carry you to the kitchen island and sit you on top, he focuses on the string of saliva that attaches your mouth to his. He pulls away just enough that it breaks, settling on the hair on his chin. He almost busts his nut all over your lower belly when you lean across and lick it from his face, grin plastered on your mouth like you know exactly what you’ve just done to him.

You reach down between the two of you, gripping Joel’s cock in your hand, guiding it back to your spread cunt, “I think you better put this back inside me, huh?” You whisper, looking up at him through your eyelashes, “Think you might be about to come, am I right Joel?”

“Fuckin’ hell,” He curses, head to the ceiling, “Gonna be the fuckin’ death of me, pretty girl,” He takes his cock from your grip, sliding it slowly back into your slick pussy, watching as you throw your head back in pleasure as he does, “How many babies you want?” He asks, royally pushing his fucking luck now, “Tell me you want more than one, tell me I get to come inside your pretty pussy forever.”

“You’ll have to ask your brother.” You and your smart fucking mouth, Joel thinks, looking down between the two of you where he’s splitting you open, watching as his thick cock slides effortlessly into your cunt, like you were made for him.

“Didn’t have to ask him this morning,” Joel growls at you, hand resting at the base of your throat, “This was all you, babygirl.”

He doesn’t think before he takes hold of the material of the shirt you’re wearing and yanks it open, buttons flying all over the kitchen surface. Joel lets it gape open, those big hands of his gripping the soft skin of your waist as he starts pounding into you again. He leans down and captures one of your nipples in his mouth, rolling it between his teeth, soothing it with the pad of his tongue, before he switches to the other side.

“Such pretty tits, baby,” He groans, moving his lips up to kiss across your neck, “Even prettier when I put this baby inside you.”

His cock is brutal inside you. He can see the start of the discomfort on your face, still sore and stretched from last night. Truth be told, he doesn’t think he can hold on much longer, not when he looks down at the sight of you, spread out, dripping slick onto the countertop, legs spread as far as humanely possible, tits bouncing with every hard punch of his cock inside you.

“Want me to fill you up, babygirl?” He asks, leaning down to capture your lips one last time, he doesn’t know if he’ll ever get you alone again, he knows kissing you in front of his brother would probably get him shot, so he’s going to take it all whilst he can.

“Give it to me Joel, fuck,” You moan, hands gripping his shoulders to keep you upright, “Look at me whilst you do it,” You demands, “I wanna see your eyes when you pump me full of cum.”

You’re looking up at him, bottom lip bitten between teeth as he stuffs his cock into you twice, three times. He looks you dead in the eye as he lets your name drop from his lips, hand gripping so hard at your skin it’s painful. He does exactly what you say though, looks straight into your eyes as his cock fills your full of his cum. Dark and dangerous, like predator has caught its pray, spread it out underneath him and fully devoured it.

He lets out the softest of groans as he slips his cock from you, watching as his cum drips from your pussy. It’s depraved, but he takes two of his fingers and pushes as much of it as possible back inside you, curling his fingers up inside you, before he slips them out, covered in his own cum and the slick from your pussy.

He holds them up to your mouth, “You wanna taste, pretty girl?”

Joel swears he sees the devil when you take hold of his hand and drag that perfect little tongue over his fingers. He thinks he might feel his cock begin to harden again when you take them all the way into your mouth and swirl your tongue over them to get them clean, he’s only a man, he can’t help but imagine what that mouth might feel like wrapped around his cock.

He helps you down from the counter, passes you the underwear he discarded early and then slips out of his own plaid shirt, offering it to you for ruining the one you were currently wearing. You could very easily wander up the stairs and get another shirt, but you take it from him, wrap it around yourself and do up the buttons.

“Sit down,” You speak softly to him once he’s got his jeans on properly, “I’ll finish breakfast.”

Joel watches closely as you pour coffee and reheat the eggs slightly, piling a significantly bigger portion onto his plate than your own. You butter the toast and then sit down next to him, eating in silence. He expects it to be awkward, but it’s the complete opposite. It’s comfortable, warm even, just two people enjoying breakfast together before they must go back to their respective lives outside of each other.

When you’ve both finishes, you take the plates and stack the in the sink before Joel realizes he’s still got to pick Sarah up. You smile at him when he stands, going to unbutton his shirt to give it back to him when he puts a warm hand on your arm.

“Keep it,” He says softly, “Looks miles better on you than it does on me.”

Your head dips and then you smile, “Thank you.”

He doesn’t really know what you’re thanking him for – the shirt? Probably not. But he smiles and kisses your cheek all the same before he’s making sure he’s got his keys and then he’s leaving.

All Joel can think about on his drive to pick Sarah up is the massive fucking line he’s just crossed. He can paint it in whatever light he wants to – normal couples fuck all the time, at every possible moment, when they’re trying to have a baby, so why should this be any different? That’s all it was, is what he repeats to himself, all fucking day, thinking of the way you begged him to fill you up again, the way your lips felt against his when you finally gave in and kissed him. But there’s still that fucking niggling feeling that he’s fucked it all up, mixed his own feelings in somewhere along the line. He should have never been with you without the knowing stare of his brother, looking out for any signs of concern.

If only Joel knew that Tommy knew exactly what was happening that morning. If only he knew that you’d padded quietly down the stairs and found him soundly asleep on that couch, first instinct to reach for your phone and sent Tommy that text message.

Joel seemed to stay the night on the couch. I know you’ll be driving, so totally get if not, but mind if we try again this morning? Might have a bit more luck relying on two instead of one this month.

You’d waited just moments for Tommy’s reply, standing at the foot of the stairs, watching Joel’s chest rise and fall in his sleep.

Course not sugar, you can tell me all about it when I get in and get you all to myself.

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