#I think I’m confident bit that it’s look nice now

[navybrat817]

In a Red Dress

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Female Reader

Summary: Bucky has to debrief after a mission, so you decide to stop in for a visit. In a red dress.

Word Count: Over 3k

Warnings: Established relationship, explicit sexual content, unprotected vaginal sex, possessive behavior, dirty talk, flirting, teasing, slight feels (it's me, okay?), Bucky Barnes (he's a warning, okay?).

A/N: Happy FriYAY! I started this in January for @tumblin-theworldaway and finally finished it today. Love you, Aqua! I hope you can relax soon. Could be considered a follow up to With a Bang. ❤️ Not beta read and written on my phone, so any and all mistakes are my own. Please follow @navybrat817-sideblog for new fics and notifications. Comments, reblogs, feedback are loved and appreciated!

Your heels clicked along the floor as you left the elevator, reminding yourself for the umpteenth time that it wasn't Bucky’s fault that his team extended their mission for another day. Unforeseen circumstances were to blame, completely out of his control. You also couldn't hold it against him that he had to debrief after he messaged you that he arrived back home safely and unharmed. It was part of the job. Still, you missed him and wanted a bit of attention.

Which was why you showed up at S.H.I.E.L.D. in a silky red dress and Bucky’s dog tags under your coat. No bra, no panties. Which he realized when you walked into the conference room, unannounced, and removed your coat.

It was fun to put the fire in his steel eyes.

“Welcome home, Bucky,” you smiled as the room went silent. “Don’t mind me. Keep doing what you’re doing.”

Your burly boyfriend was out of his seat and didn't tear his gaze away from you, the tension thick as you tossed the coat away. Today was a good day for your self confidence. You wore it like a second skin, feeling as beautiful on the outside as you did inside. You knew you looked good enough to eat and you wanted him to devour you.

And as much as you loved him in his black shirt and tactical pants, it hid the wall of muscle you wanted to trace with your hands and tongue.

“Hey, baby. Fancy seeing you here,” he said, his eyes dropping to your chest. Your nipples hardened against the fabric and you wished he’d latch his mouth to them. “And speaking of home, I thought I was going to meet you there.”

Your shoulder lifted in a shrug. “I got impatient since you were late. Plus I wanted to show you my dress,” you said, doing a happy twirl. It was reminiscent of New Years. The soft fabric hugged your body tight like your black dress did, but this one left little to the imagination. “What do you think?”

Steve, ever the good friend, averted his gaze, but a scowl crossed Bucky’s handsome face when you both realized that other agents looked your way. You hadn't expected to be the center of attention for anyone else, but it didn't matter to you if others looked. Why would you want them when Bucky had you under his spell?

At least they were smart enough to look away when Bucky’s metal hand clenched.

“Well? Do you like it? I thought the dog tags were a nice touch,” you added, running a finger along them when he remained silent. “They really do go well with everything.”

“Come here,” he said, beckoning you with a metal finger. You knew he meant business when he didn't use his dominant hand. “Now.”

You maintained an aura of innocence as you walked toward him, watching him his lips as your hips swayed.

“I can see your nipples through your dress,” he said low enough for just the two of you, but poor Steve with his enhanced hearing likely picked up on it. “And I’m pretty sure I didn’t give you permission to wear a dress like that in front of other guys.”

Any other guy who said that to you would've been smacked, but hearing it from him only made your eyes fill with amusement as you tilted your head. “I didn’t realize I needed your permission to wear this, Sergeant.”

“Baby,” he whispered. You knew what calling him by his rank did to him.

“I should be able to wear what I want and when I want to. We both know that,” you continued, sliding your finger down his chest instead of poking it like he expected. “But you have my permission to break someone's fingers if they try to touch what belongs to you. Because I do belong to you.”

Your declaration fueled the fire within. There was no hesitation on your part. No doubt. And after being apart for a short time, you wanted him to hear you say you were his girl.

“Yeah, you do. You’re mine,” he said with a raspy touch of confidence that would’ve soaked your panties had you been wearing any. “And I’m all yours, but I still need to debrief.”

You huffed, but the conviction in his tone was admirable. “Fine. I’ll just wait here,” you said when he frowned. Both of you knew the classified information wasn’t meant for your ears, yet no one spoke up for you to leave. Were they afraid of pissing your boyfriend off? “You know, I really do love that grumpy look of yours. It gets me so wet.”

Bucky’s cheek twitched when one of the men coughed. “You're being a fucking tease.”

“Is it teasing if I let you have me?” You asked, tapping your chin. “Teasing you would be letting you go to bed with blue balls.”

Wordlessly, he lifted a hand and clutched the dog tags. He yanked on them hard enough to move you closer, his eyes not leaving yours when you gasped and shivered from the heat-filled look. You considered it a win that you didn’t collapse. Because he was going to destroy you and you’d love every second of it.

“Be very careful what comes out of your mouth next, baby,” he warned.

You smiled, more than ready to give him one more push. “I’m more interested in what’s supposed to go inside my mouth.”

His nostrils flared when you opened your mouth and showed him your tongue and throat. He put a hand on the back of your neck and tilted your head back, lightly nipping at your skin below your jaw. “I should put you on your knees and fuck your throat in front of everyone. Or put you over my knee and spank you ‘til you squirm. Show ‘em that you really are mine.”

You giggled, a soft and tempting sound. “Why fuck my throat when my pussy is nice and wet for you?”

“Gentlemen. I think the Bravo Conference Room is available. Let’s finish this up there,” Steve announced, his chair scraping against the floor and pulling you out of your spell. “Told you that you should’ve just gone home, jerk.”

“Fuck off, punk,” Bucky said, keeping a firm hand on you so you couldn’t look at any of the men filing out. The smirk he gave you was nothing short of predatory once the door clicked shut, leaving the two of you alone. “Since you need my cock so badly that you can’t wait until I get home, bend over that table and let me give it to you.”

Your giggle quickly died in your throat when you realized he was serious. “You’ve never fucked me in one of the debriefing rooms. Someone could walk in,” you reminded him.

Yeah, you showed up wearing what you did. Yeah, you teased him. But it was all in good fun. He wouldn’t actually fuck you on the table.

Right?

Your cheeks grew hot at the next words out of his mouth. “You think I give a shit about if someone walks in?”

He let go of your neck and grabbed your wrist, carefully dragging you to the table. You loved every part of him, but something about his unashamed want of you made your heart soar. Maybe it was because of how much he healed and allowed himself to have a piece of happiness. That some part of him from his past, the man he used to be, surfaced and blended in with who he was now.

Heaven sent and survived the depths of Hell.

“Now, I should spank your ass raw for this little stunt you pulled. Letting them see you in this dress,” he said without any real threat behind his words. “But I won’t do that until we’re home.”

“Yes, Sergeant Barnes,” you smiled, expecting him to bend you over. But he brought a hand to your cheek instead. “Bucky?”

His gaze moved to your lips as he murmured, “Not fucking you until I kiss you.”

His mouth met yours not in a frenzy, but with a smile. The kind that told you how happy he was to be back with you. It wasn’t long before he shifted, the hand on your cheek slipping to your chin so he could deepen it. The soft slip of his tongue ignited your entire body, feeling his heart beat faster as you brought a hand to his chest. A reminder that he was alive, home, and loved you.

You loved him, too.

Your eyes stayed shut for a few seconds after he pulled away. “Missed you, Bucky,” you whispered.

“Missed you, too,” he said, his voice rougher than before. “Now bend over.”

The air rushed from your lungs at the switch from want to tenderness to need, your chest pressed against the table as he pushed your dress. Part of you wondered if he would’ve made good on his threat and fuck you in front of the other agents. He liked to toe the line of wanting to show others you were his and not wanting them to see intimate parts of you.

Which made you wonder what he’d do if someone walked in. He said he didn’t give a shit, but would he stop and try to cover your body with his own? Or would he keep fucking you?

You wouldn't mind either way.

“Spread ‘em,” he ordered, which you immediately obeyed. The low whistle made you shut your eyes before he dragged a finger along your exposed slit. “Didn’t even bother covering your pretty pussy with underwear. Probably best since you would’ve ruined them with how wet you are.”

“You’ve ruined all of my panties, Bucky,” you said, the distinct sound of his belt buckle and pants zipper making you moan. “And I’m ready for you to fuck me.”

“Yeah? Your pussy ready to stretch around my cock?” He asked, making you shriek when he unexpectedly brought his flesh hand down hard on your ass. He only used the metal when you were in real trouble. “You better not have fucked yourself with a toy before you got here.”

“I didn’t! I haven’t even touched myself,” you promised before he stretched over your back. “I just need you in me.”

“That’s what I like to hear. And though you interrupted my debriefing and I may need to stab a teammate or two, you’re still my good girl. And good girls deserve rewards,” he growled in your ear, nipping it for good measure as you moaned. The head of his cock teased your entrance, your core clenching in anticipation. “I’ll fuck you and you’ll come all over me, just like you want and just like I need. And you’ll take it ‘til I’m done with you.”

You reveled in being his good girl, even when you were bad. How no one else could take his cock the way you could. How he made you soak your sheets day and night with your essence because being fucked by Bucky Barnes made you gush like a geyser. It was obscene.

“I’m your good girl and I’ll take everything you give me,” you said sweetly, knowing he’d fuck you whether you said it or not. “So let my pussy welcome your cock home, please?”

The soft kiss to your neck was almost like an apology before he pushed into you, both of you moaning. He’d check later to make sure you weren’t sore since he didn’t stretch you at all, but the slight ache when he bottomed out always bordered more on pleasure than pain. The overwhelming sensations of him inside you made your eyes roll back and he hadn’t even started thrusting.

“So fucking warm. And wet,” he grunted in your ear when he finally moved, his pants rubbing against your bare thighs. “Jesus fuck, you’re soaking me.”

Bucky robbed you of your breath when he leaned up and gripped your hips, hammering into you. You tried to grip the table, but all you could do was let him pull you back and forth. He was relentless like this, powerful, dominant. Making you take it, just like he said you would. Funny how minutes ago you were the one confidently teasing him and now you were a whining, needy mess. All because his cock shut your brain off.

You didn’t need to think like this anyway. You could be his doll, just for him to play with and love. In your pretty red dress or nothing at all.

“Harder, Sergeant,” you begged, your moans spurring him on.

“Not hard enough for you? Needy little thing,” he groaned, the sound of him burying himself inside you over and over echoing in your ears. “Missed this cunt. Missed you.”

Your pussy gripped him tight, the heady bliss making your vision blur. “Missed you. M… Missed your cock,” you slurred.

He chuckled, not slowing his pace as he leaned back down to tickle your cheek with his scruff. “So fucking cute when you get drunk on my cock.”

You wondered some days where he learned to talk dirty before you remembered that you had a large hand in that. He loved telling you how greedy your pussy made him. How he loved watching his spend slide out of you so he could fuck it back in. How he’s shocked some days that he can fit inside you, so he must’ve turned you into a perfect cocksleeve.

His cock made your mind down, but your pussy made him run his mouth.

“Gonna make you sit on it when we get home. Fuck, gonna make you ruin the sheets when I fuck you into the mattress,” he rambled, making you moan louder. You didn’t care who heard. Let them hear what he did to you. What he turned you into: his needy slut. “Tell me you want it.”

“I want it,” you moaned, his thrusts pushing your breasts harder against the table, your nipples hard and aching for him to touch them. He would later. You could wait. But you couldn’t wait to fall over the precipice. “‘M gonna come.”

“Do it. Won’t stop you,” he encouraged. He no doubt felt how close you were with how you clenched around him, your back starting to arch. “C’mon, baby. Come all over me.”

Your eyes fluttered as your body tensed, your walls pulsing around him your orgasm surged like a tidal wave. The ripples tore through you, ebbing and flowing as you moaned his name. If you could drown in pleasure, you’d want his name to be the last word that spilled from your lips.

“That’s my girl,” he praised as your limbs went lax.

You throbbed around him until he pulled out, making you whimper since he didn't come. You wanted him to finish inside you. He had you on your back with your legs spread wide before you could beg for it, keeping your dress up as he speared you once again. He thrust fast, needing his release just as badly as you needed yours.

“Need to see your face when you milk my cock,” he grunted, licking his thumb and bringing it to your clit. You whined, jerking underneath him as he rubbed the swollen nub. “Oh, stay still. You can give me one more.”

You almost denied him before you felt the coil tighten within you again. You never thought you could have back-to-back orgasms until you started sleeping with him. But it shouldn’t have surprised you. He played you like his favorite instrument and you were his good girl.

You could give him one more.

“Come with me,” you panted, staring into his darkened eyes as his face twisted in ecstasy only you could provide him. “Please.”

He couldn’t resist that last bit of begging.

The waves crashed again, adding to your first high, as his mouth opened in a groan, filling you in hot spurts. Watching him tip over the edge was a sight to behold, his cheeks tinged as his hips stilled and both of you tried to catch your breath. He laid across you after a moment, the weight of him making you sigh.

“Welcome back,” you smiled as your breathing evened out.

He stayed inside you as he brushed his lips against yours. You were going to make a mess all over the table when he pulled out, but it was worth any grief either of you got. “Good to be back,” he whispered, his hand on your cheek again in a tender display as his eyes scanned your face. “So beautiful.”

“Me fucked out or the dress?” You smiled.

“Both,” he smiled back, your face warm.

“Thank you,” you breathed, your heart still racing fast. You suddenly wished you were in bed so he could properly hold you. But he’d have you home soon enough for that. “Hope I didn't get you into any trouble,” you added. That was the last thing you wanted to do.

“Steve gets it,” he assured you, briefly closing his eyes when you brushed your fingers through his hair. “I’m sorry we got back late. He’s right. I should've just gone right home.”

Your heart clenched a little at that. Missions were important and not easy on either of you, but it was his job. “It’s okay. I’m just glad you made it home safely,” you said, arching your back. The table wasn't exactly comfortable, but you were too fucked out to care.

You also didn't want to be apart from him since he was back.

He wrapped an arm underneath you to ease some of your strain. “Still teased me by showing up like this. I might fuck your throat and put you over my knee tonight,” he groaned, squeezing a breast through your dress before he straightened out the dog tags. “But then I’m going to hold you after and not let go.”

You smiled, looking forward to it. “Yes, Sergeant.”

And you'd be sure to thank Steve later for clearing out the room so you could welcome your man home.

Nothing to see here, lovelies. Go about your business! Hehe. 😇 Love and thanks for reading! ❤️

Masterlist ⚓ Bucky Barnes Masterlist ⚓ Ko-Fi

[syrupfog]

Law being the most anemic fucking vampire. 

Like he doesn’t pick up on hunger cues, especially when studying in med school and during his fellowship time. Will go days without feeding because he doesn’t notice he needs to until one day he stands up and just falls the fuck over

Like he becomes well known in his apartment complex because of the number of times he’s passed out on the stairs. 

He doesn’t change his ways though until he comes to on the landing with his neighbour looming over him.

“Zoro says you’re a vampire” the neighbour says. 

Law doesn’t know his neighbours he has no clue who Zoro is. “I’m a vampire,” he says, groaning as he sits up. 

Neighbour nods, walks over and fucking HEADBUTTS the wall. Some cement crumbles.

Law gapes at him. 

The neighbour walks back, looking mostly fine (definitely has a concussion) with a trickle of a bloody nose. 

“Here you go!” He says brightly. 

Law gives him a horrified face. He scrambles back when he thinks the neighbour is going to headbutt him too.

But the man just walks up to him and swipes the blood off his face and onto Law’s face, like you’re supposed to do to get kittens to eat. 

He’s grinning. Very wide. 

“Please don’t ever do that again,” Law says. He wipes the blood off his face.

The man frowns “I worked hard for that!” He says. 

“I’m not rewarding bad behaviour,” Law says petulantly. 

“You passed out on the stairs!” 

“That’s beside the point.” 

Law has blood bags at home. He doesn’t need a weird stranger’s blood. He probably has mad cow.

The man crosses his arms. “Well I think that’s rude,” he says. 

Law sighs. He’s still lightheaded. “How about next time you want to donate blood, you ask me first? I can take some WITHOUT giving you a concussion.” 

The man brightens. “Okay!!” He says, excited now.

“Im Luffy! It’s nice to meet you, vampire!” 

“Trafalgar,” saw Law. 

“Traffy,” says Luffy. 

Law narrows his eyes. He senses arguing is futile.

Law never actually means to take Luffy up on his offer. He HAS blood, he just forgets to take it. Every time Luffy offers, he tells him he’s got blood at home, maybe next time. 

That all changes when a summer storm rolls in and they lose power.

They’re out of power for almost four days, a sickly still and wet heat settling in the city. And when Law wakes up after passing out in his kitchenette, he realises he’s actually in need. 

He doesn’t even know where in the complex Luffy lives, but it turns out not to be an issue.

He’s just made it down the stairs when the fire door in front of him opens and— 

“TRAFFY!”

 “Luffy,” Law groans despite himself. 

“Do you need—“ 

“Yes.” Law grabs his wrist. “Come with me.” 

Luffy obediently follows him back up the stairs to his apartment.

Law drags him in and sets him at the table. “You’re going to want to refill on protein and sugar after this,” he says. 

“Okay!” Luffy says, expression bright. 

Law sighs. He wipes down Luffy’s forearm with an alcohol pad before grabbing his wrist and sinking his teeth in.

Usually humans taste gross. Blood at the best of times is a neutral flavour, but skin and arm hair and sweat are disgusting. 

But Luffy?

 Luffy… tastes like honeyed ham. 

Law pulls back, a wet noise as he pulls his fangs out. “Why do you taste like that?” He asks, alarmed.

“Like what?” Luffy asks. 

“Like… glazed ham?” 

Luffy laughs. “Silly,” he says. “Because I was eating glazed ham, of course!” 

Law bit close to Luffy’s elbow. He also sanitised the area. How on EARTH did the taste permeate his skin so well?

With trepidation, Law goes back to feeding. It’s with horror he realises he… likes the glazed ham taste with the blood. It’s like drinking flavoured coffee; useless accoutrement but pleasing nonetheless. 

When he’s drunk enough he’s confident he won’t be falling down stairs,

Law cleans Luffy’s arm and attaches two small round plasters to the holes. 

“Fun!” Luffy says, looking at them. “Fang sized!” 

“Thanks,” Law says. “You can go now.” 

Luffy blinks at him. “Let’s hang out,” he says. 

Law blinks back at him. “I have to—“ he gestures at his apartment.

Considering they are IN his apartment, he’s just sort of gesturing at everything. 

“That’s cool,” Luffy says. “I’ll just stay here.” 

Law… nods. “Okay,” he says. The power’s still out, it’s not like he was going to actually do anything anyway.

What Law doesn’t know is that once Luffy’s gotten into Law’s apartment once, he’s gonna always assume he’s welcome. 

Even when Law tries to kick him out. S

ometimes (often) Luffy is just. Here now. 

And unfortunately, like the glazed ham taste, Law realises he sort of likes it.

[secondtechnicianrimmer]

Space Corp. Directive #1215225

For some ungodly reason, you fancy the second technician, but you'd be damned if you ever admitted it.

Pairing: Arnold Rimmer x (F) Reader

Warnings: Suggestive content

Chapter Fourteen: Starbuggin’

//

It had been a nice day.

This wasn’t particularly notable or odd; you’d settled very happily into life aboard Red Dwarf, and now Starbug. It’s just that the general day-to-day usually tended to involve running from an insane creature, something exploding, and quite a lot of arguing. Boredom was often just as dangerous. But, so far, today had been lovely.

You had been lying on your bunk for most of the afternoon, a book raised above your head, your arms outstretched in front of you. There wasn’t much to do in the tiny ship; thankfully you’d thought to stock up on activities before you lost Red Dwarf.

When the position grew too tiring, you lowered your arms until your elbows rested on the mattress, the book now too close to be comfortable, but you didn’t mind.

Across the room, at a low table in the centre of the sleeping quarters, Rimmer was sat with his hands inside a perspex box. He’d had it for years apparently. Kryten had found the specifications in the holosuite a few months after he came back to the ship. Rimmer had never really found a lot of use for it. Now, all you had was time, and Rimmer was finally setting some aside to enjoy himself.

Inside the Holo-Box, heavy black gloves covered his hands, allowing Rimmer to gingerly cradle an old-fashioned Airfix model.

As he carefully dabbed a paintbrush against the side of something called a Spitfire, you smiled fondly to yourself.

Yes, it had been a lovely day.

“I’m gonna say it.”

Rimmer didn’t even bother looking up.

“Don’t.”

“I’m gonna.”

“I’m concentrating.”

With a sigh, you turned back to your book.

“I just think you should know-”

“Darling…”

“You’re much artsier than you give yourself credit for!”

Rimmer finally turned his head towards you, very obviously trying hard not to roll his eyes. He’d always been a bit softer with you, and lately he’d been trying harder to be less of a dick, but he still had trouble sometimes.

“This isn’t art,” he said firmly. “This is… Engineering.”

Your fond smile only grew.

“You’re painting model aeroplanes, Arn.”

“Exactly! Aeroplanes. That’s technical stuff!”

He was so determined to ignore any sense of his own creativity, you almost didn’t want to argue with him. Almost.

Plus he looked handsome today, and who were you to argue with Rimmer when he looked so good? His short-sleeved red shirt was enticingly soft, and those braces pulled tight over his broad shoulders constantly played on your mind. Sometimes, you came close to asking him to put his puffy uniform jacket on, because the sight of his lithe forearms and strong chest was almost too much to bear.

“Okay,” You shrugged. “Suit yourself.”

You turned over on the bed so that you lay on your stomach, keeping your book open with your fingertips pressed against the twin swells of its pages.

“But maybe if you explored your creative side rather than berating yourself for not passing exams about things your brain doesn’t compute as well…”

Half-smiling and doing a bad job of hiding it, Rimmer shot you a weary look.

“That’s enough therapy out of you, Lefty. Let me concentrate.”

Grinning, you turned back to your book.

“Yes, dear.”

Out of the corner of your eye, you saw Rimmer’s back straighten, just a little.

There had been a marked shift in his confidence, in the general way he held himself, since your matching confessions that night. You hadn’t noticed it immediately, Rimmer had always been a little gentler about himself when it was you he was talking to, he’d learnt his lesson, so it took you a while to realise the change.

You couldn’t touch him, but there were a thousand other ways to show your affection. So far, you’d discovered that warm words, sweet names, and soft compliments worked the best. They made Rimmer’s shoulders sink, his jaw relax, as if just having someone be kind to him for once in his life was enough to loosen the vice around his chest. And he smiled more now. That was perhaps your favourite thing of all.

You turned your head and watched him work. His brow was furrowed in concentration, his curls falling across his forehead. There, at the corner of his mouth, his tongue was sticking out ever-so-slightly.

You let out a sigh, long and deep, and sank further into the bed. Folding your arms over your book, you rested your head there and silently watched Rimmer work, just enjoying the sight of him relaxed, comfortable, happy.

What you wouldn’t give to run your hands over those strong shoulders, to slip your fingers into the curls at the nape of his neck and tug slightly, just to see what he’d do. You couldn’t help imagining Rimmer’s eyes rolling back into his head, his taut back arching as you slipped into his lap and rocked your hips against his. He really was torture sometimes.

“What’s your book about?”

Your mind still swimming with thoughts of all the lovely sounds Rimmer might make as you grazed your teeth against his neck, it took you a moment to realise what he’d asked

You hummed, trying to cast your mind back. You couldn’t even recall the title of the novel you stole from a chef’s quarters all the way down on C Deck.

“Oh, I don’t know,” you admitted. “I haven’t been concentrating, really.”

“Hm? What were you thinking about?”

“You.”

You beamed at Rimmer when he turned to look at you, surprised.

“Me?”

You hummed, smiling.

“Y’know. What it’ll be like when I finally get to kiss you. Touch you.”

A pink tinge made its way across Rimmer’s cheeks and down his neck, almost blending into his bright red shirt. He visibly gulped, obviously thinking along the same lines as you. Then he looked back down at his model aeroplane, at the lengths he had to go to for something so simple.

“You really believe that’ll happen?” he asked softly.

“Don’t you?”

“I… I’m not sure. I used to. I hope it does.”

Rimmer went quiet then, his gaze still fixed on his model.

You carefully closed your book and slipped off the bed, curling up in the chair beside his instead.

“It will,” you said firmly. “I know it will. And until then, I have a very active imagination.”

To your delight, that made Rimmer glance up. He raised his eyebrows, a smirk tugging gently at the corner of his mouth.

“Is that so?”

You hummed and watched Rimmer’s gaze grow unfocused.

“You just wait. And, I mean, there’s always Better Than Life? I could touch you there, couldn’t I? We could have all sorts of fun.”

You watched, beaming, as his cheeks, then his ears, slowly began to turn bright red. Oh, he was fun. It was almost too easy, but it was fun.

Rimmer was sweet but he would always have a stick up his arse, it’s just how he was raised. Getting a physical reaction out of him, especially when he didn’t even have a proper physical presence, was always a brilliant game.

You leaned over the table a little more, sliding your elbow across its surface and resting there in his eye-line, so that he couldn’t help but look at you.

“Oh, Arnie, you’re blushing.”

“I am not.”

“You are!”

Shaking his head, Rimmer tried very hard to pretend to concentrate on his model.

“I don’t think I can blush.”

“Oh, honey,” You grinned. “You definitely can.”

He shot you another weary look but he was still smiling.

“It’s a lovely idea,” he spoke with an unexpected gentleness. “But I think I’d rather wait.”

“Hm?”

“When I kiss you, I want it to be real. I want to be able to feel you properly.”

The air in the room shifted. Suddenly, you couldn’t remember what you’d been teasing him about.

All around you, outside the emerald, pockmarked hull of your adopted home, galaxies and stars whirled around each other, intertwining and exploding and dying and creating, over and over again. And here, in your stark grey quarters, in the middle of it all, Rimmer wanted to kiss you so badly, he was willing to wait for the impossible.

You watched as his smile grew. Rimmer’s eyes were fixed somewhere near your mouth, any vain attempts to hold your gaze long-forgotten.

Laughing softly, you pressed the backs of your fingers to your cheek.

“You’re going to make me blush.”

“Well, now, there’s a turn up for the books.”

Rimmer looked pleased with himself. Again, you considered how far he’d come. It wasn’t enough just to show him some positive reinforcement. Even when the boys were kind to him, Rimmer either didn’t think he deserved it or refused to believe they were being genuine. It had taken a lot of time, effort, and soft words to cultivate that lovely smile.

“I don’t mind waiting, you know.”

You nodded your head to the side, gesturing for him to remove his right arm from the Holo-Box.

“I love you, Arn. I don’t need anything physical. Even though I am constantly insanely horny.”

As you slipped your hand inside the leather glove, Rimmer gaped at you.

“I really do that to you?”

“Is that so hard to believe?”

“Yes, actually!”

Your fingers now safely nestled inside the thick, sturdy glove, you twisted your wrist and tapped your index finger against the back of Rimmer’s hand.

“Well, you do. I’m always thinking about you.”

He flinched. You couldn’t blame him, it had been so long since he’d been able to touch, Rimmer was probably starting to forget what it felt like.

The Psymoon where you'd first kissed felt a million years ago now. Every second since had been filled with a dull ache, a wistfulness for something you weren’t able to really appreciate at the time.

You could half remember how he tasted, that his lips were soft and that his hands had felt heavy and awkward and painfully endearing as they hung from your hips. It was wonderful, but so quick and full of fear. You’d give anything to have another go.

Slowly, carefully, so as not to overwhelm him, you slipped your hand around Rimmer’s and awkwardly fitted your fingers together, fidgeting left and right until finally, your gloved hands interlaced.

“You should know by now, honey. I’ve got all sorts of ideas,” you said, grinning.

As if transfixed, Rimmer stared at your entwined hands. A muscle, slim and overworked, twitched in his jaw as he swallowed hard.

What it must be like to have no senses to guide you. He couldn’t taste his favourite foods, couldn’t read his favourite books, couldn’t leave Starbug without a hollow tug in his chest.

Ever since you lost Red Dwarf, the fear of shut down had been hanging over your heads. Whenever the old ship met a new threat to its survival, you could feel cold dread seeping through your veins, long after you knew you were safe. And you couldn’t comfort each other.

Worst of all, with everything he’d spat about his family over the years, you didn’t think Rimmer had ever known a gentle touch. And now he finally had someone who wanted to take care of him, to love him, and he couldn’t feel it.

Well, you’d never been one to back down from an argument, and arguing with the universe was about all you had, three million years from home.

Rimmer’s fingers tightened between yours, then folded, his fingertips resting against the back of your hand.

“Better Than Life is looking more and more appealing,” he mused.

You squeezed his hand.

“I think you’re right.”

“Another turn up for the books. Are you sure you’re feeling alright?”

“We should wait,” you went on, laughing softly. “Just think how good it’s going to feel when I finally get to touch you.”

“Oh believe me, I do. Often.” Rimmer raised his eyebrows. “Several times a day.”

That made your heart trip over itself in its hurry.

It wasn’t like you to be shy around Rimmer. He was ridiculous, it was impossible to be intimidated by him or to ever feel like you didn’t have the upper hand. You could tease him all you liked, annoy him, laugh with him, but it was all a distraction from just how much you really, properly fancied the pants off him. And as embarrassing as it was, sometimes he did manage to fluster you.

It was rare that you’d admit it, though. Somehow, Rimmer managed to maintain a massive ego despite also carrying more self-hatred than anyone you’d ever met. He was complicated, but loving him wasn’t, and neither was finding him so stupidly fit, it did seem like some kind of cosmic karma that you couldn’t shove him onto his back and ride him till the bunk’s slats snapped.

But then something Lister had once suggested popped into your head. It had seemed stupid at the time, back when you were sure there was more chance of Kryten fancying you than Rimmer. But now…

“Well, you know,” You squeezed his hand again, finding the gloves awkward and uncomfortable, but you were grateful all the same. “We can’t touch each other but… We can touch ourselves. That could be fun.”

Rimmer looked like he might pass out, then suddenly he was beaming like a kid at Christmas.

“You mean… You’d want to..?”

“Yes, Arnie.” You leaned closer until your nose was almost pressed against his, your lips forced to stay just millimetres from touching. “I want you.”

You meant to say ‘to’. I want to. But ‘you’ was more accurate anyway, and it made Rimmer’s eyes slide shut with a sigh.

You watched his chest rise and fall heavily beneath his scarlet shirt, watched the fingers of his free hand tighten over the curve of his knee.

When he finally opened his eyes again, they were clouded with a kind of frustration you’d both come to accept. This was life now. Loving but never touching.

“So,” You smiled as you tilted your head the other way, your gaze fixed on Rimmer’s mouth. “Are you going to come back to bed with me, love? Or are you going to keep playing with your aeroplane all on your own?”

Rimmer stood up so fast, you were sure he would’ve knocked the table over if he’d been able to.

At exactly the same moment, a shrieking alarm pierced through the thick atmosphere, tearing it in two.

Rimmer groaned.

“Smegging hell.”

The lights flickered, then died altogether with a sickening whoosh.

You whipped around, your heart in your mouth. For a moment, you were back on the Atalanta, terrified and alone. But Rimmer’s voice sparked like a Catherine wheel in the dark. You followed the sound of your name, half blind with fear, until he’d brought you back to reality.

The lights blinked back to life, unsteady and anaemic, but enough to see by as you charged through to Starbug’s tiny cockpit, where the others were already seated.

“What’s going on?” you asked breathlessly.

“Swirly thing alert!

Cat was at the main joystick, while Lister jabbed at the communications and navigation controls.

“Where?” he asked, frantically searching for something, anything, out there in the dark.

Cat shook his head.

“It’s not on the radar yet but I can smell it.”

Kryten took his place at the rear, overseeing the shipboard systems and long-range sensors. You stayed in the doorway, watching over Rimmer’s shoulder as his short-range sensor readers remained blank.

“Nothing here,” he reported back.

“Nothing on long-range,” Kryten agreed. “Sir, is it possible you could have made a mis-smelling?

Immediately and predictably, they fell about arguing. As Cat took umbrage at Kryten’s suggestion, Rimmer and Lister began to bicker over whether stepping up to Blue Alert was worth the effort of flicking the switch.

Still stuck in the gangway without a seat, you clutched the doorframe, your arms out at your sides like a bird in flight, and prayed that whatever was out there would just bugger off so you could go back to seducing your boyfriend. One day of peace, was that really too much to ask for?

“Wait!” Kryten suddenly cried. “I've got something. I'm punching it up.”

Leaning over Rimmer to see his monitor better, you held your breath.

Set against the stars and the endless cold night, a bright orange streak ricocheted across the screen. If there hadn’t been so many alarms flaring, you might’ve thought it was a comet.

“Too small for a vessel,” Lister said. “Maybe some kind of missile?”

“A missile?” You frowned. “Who would fire a missile at us? We’re in the middle of nowhere.”

Kryten shook his head.

“It's impossible to tell at this range. Whatever it is, they clearly have a technology way in advance of our own!”

“So do the Albanian State Washing Machine Company.”

Working as a team, Lister and Cat steered Starbug out of harm’s way. The little ship groaned as it suddenly jerked onto a different path but did as it was told.

You gripped the back of Rimmer’s chair, your gaze fixed on the monitor.

“Arn…”

He looked up at you, his jaw set. You could see he was frightened but he forced a grim smile.

You hadn’t told the others yet. It wasn’t a concious thought, you just didn't act any differently around each other and the boys hadn’t noticed. You weren’t sure if that said more about how long you’d so obviously been infatuated with each other, or about their observational skills.

He wanted to comfort you but there wasn’t time. You wanted to kiss Rimmer’s cheek and tell him he was doing well, but you couldn’t. Instead, you shared a thin smile and prayed this wouldn’t be it.

“You should buckle in, darling.” He nodded back into Starbug’s hold, where there were plenty of safer places to stand. “This might get-”

As if to prove his point, the ship rolled to the left, throwing you against the doorframe.

Instinctively, uselessly, Rimmer’s hand shot out to grab yours.

“It's still with us!” Lister cried. “It's some kind of heat-seeker. We can't outrun it!”

The ship rocked again, then heaved a sickly groan as it veered onto yet another course.

Rimmer looked pale.

“What on Io was that?”

“Some kind of suction beam. We're being dragged down!”

//

Next Chapter

Master List

[misnarat]

Middle of night 🌑

(1-2)

Zelda’s side

Something I made years ago never got chance to post it.

[targaryenluvs]

— ALL GROWN UP

pairings: coriolanus snow x fem!reader

summary: you were always tigris's annoying rich friend to coriolanus, but once he returns from 12 you seem to be irresistible, not only to him.

warnings: normal coryo in all honesty, jealousy, flirting, p in v, oral (m), choking, kinda subby coryo - for a bit, time gap he spent a year in 12 (i got lazy this is short and basically just porn with slight plot)

a/n: hehehehe first fic of 2024 kiddos besides the klaus one!

your laughter was the last thing coriolanus wanted to hear, ever. it was still annoying when he was here, and it was still once he returned.

"there's no way!" tigris giggled a loud as you joined in.

"tigris?" he called out to her, waiting. "coryo!" tigris yelled as she ran to him, his arms open for her. "it's so good to see you, you’ve been so busy." you laughed, "your hair, it's worse in person." would you shut up? who were you to interrupt a family-

your night dress was black, short, barely below your crotch. lace details, messy hair, you were nothing short a of a dream, and it was messing with his head. he was so use to hating you, your stupid gorgeous face and here he was, dumbstruck. “y/n?” you nodded with a sweet smile, “how are you coriolanus?”

he sighed, “exhausted, between the university and dr gaul, it seems i’m stretched thin these days.” you nodded along, “it seems you’re well on your way to success.” he inhaled, not use to your kind words, “thank you.”

apparently you were staying with the snow’s for a week or so, much to coriolanus’s elation. surprisingly, in the time he’d been away you’d become, tolerable. it sure as hell had nothing to do with the sway in your walk, your sweet eyes looking up at him and your new found confidence, no he just felt nice.

he was itching to get a taste.

he’d seen you out and about, talking with almost all the people around. a kind smile aimed at quite literally everyone. almost every guy in the restaurant seemed to know you, and he couldn’t help but feel annoyed.

didn’t they know you came for lunch with him?

shouldn’t they know better?

you weren’t his, yet.

it was late at night, you needed something to drink.

grandma’ams tea isn’t exactly the most refreshing. you were in the midst of scouring the kitchen for a teabag of actual flavour when you’d heard him behind you.

“looking for this?” he held the jar in his hands, “actually, yes.” you walked over to grab it and he only held it higher, “coryo, please.” he grinned, “coryo huh?” you placed your hands on your hips, annoyed, “yes, now if you don’t mind.” the jar clattered on the counter and you quickly swiped it away. “would you like some?”

in the reflection of the glass cabinet, you saw him shake his head, “i’m in the mood for something else.” you giggled at his vagueness, “oh? and what might that be mr snow?” his smirk was all you needed to know what he was hinting at. “you’re playing a dangerous game here coryo,” he feigned confusion, “am i now?” you smiled, “yes you are.” he was behind you now, breath heavy and hot on your shoulder, “i might be, question is, are you willing to play?”

his lips were on your neck, light as ever, open mouthed kisses all the way up to your cheek. “cory” he gathered your hair, swinging it over your shoulder, “cory? that’s new.” you smiled, “i know. i’m going to take a shower, wanna join? to conserve water of course.” as if they need to, they had more than enough money now.

“to conserve, of course.”

the hot water rose steam, surrounding you as coryo watched from outside. the fog covered up all the parts he wanted to see, and his night pants seemed smaller. soap running all over you, soft hands trailing down. “i think you’ll get a much better view from in here.”

he ripped his clothes off, practically stumbling around in the soft glow of the guest room lamp. he’d been waiting for so long. ten minutes. his hands massaged your scalp, washing it off remaining shampoo and conditioner. ridding your body of any soap, your shoulders, your stomach, your thighs.

and soon enough he pressed you against the wall, imprints of hands staining the glass. you were both unbearably needy, messy kisses and desperate touches. you revelled in his grasp, you felt as if your skin was on fire. “y/n, please.” he whined. you giggled at his begging, “please what coryo?” you stroked his dick as he groaned out, “suck me off. now.” you laughed at his words, “pretty bossy for someone who was whining like a little bitch two seconds ago.” he was about to protest but your warm mouth on him seemed to shut up all forms of protest.

“oh god.” he leaned his head back on the wall as you dug your nails into the back of his thighs. the water pouring down on the two of you made coryo glisten, his abs looking especially sweet. droplets of water fell down from his hair onto you.

as if you weren’t enough the view of you on your knees, your tuts on display was more than enough for him to explode down your throat. “fuck, when did you learn to do this slut? you been practicing f’me?” his attempt at regaining control had you suppressing your laughter.

but his hand in your hair tugging you to your feet, crazy eyes and a very attractive smirk? “only for you cory.” you wrapped your arms around his neck and gently kissed him, “all for me.”

“please, cory. i need you.” you leaned your head against his as he directed his cock to entrance, teasing you. “you want it?” you nodded your head vehemently, “god just please, fuck me.” he kissed your cheek before pushing in, “anything you say baby.” you moaned out at the feeling of him in you, filling you to the brim. you felt unbearably hot, between the running water and coryo rutting into you it felt like heaven.

you can feel the wetness dripping down your thigh, mixing in with the water, “messy girl, aren’t you?” your hands dug into his shoulders almost painfully, “jump up.” wrapping your legs around of his waist, his hands cupped your ass. his pace is unbelievably brutal, “such a bitch to me, making me look weak.”

you shook your head, “didn’t mean to, didn’t mean to i swear.” you mewl, hot tears streaming down your cheeks, as coryo lets out throaty groans.

“stop crying.”

“i can’t, you feel so good!”

“stop crying or i’m not gonna let you cum.” his hand tightened around your throat, cutting off your airway. the dizziness paired with his thrusts inside of you was absolutely delicious. he let up only to mark you before returning to it.

“not yet," his grip around your throat tightened as coryo continued thrusted into you, obviously chasing his own high. "you'll cum when i do.” please cum. you thought, please please please.

his hips slowed down as he groaned, “fuck, all for me yeah? all grown up, aren’t you baby?” your nails marked up his back as he grunted, the hot water seemed to make the fresh marks hurt all the more. coriolanus loved the stinging, almost as much as he loved your cunt.

“cum, cum for me.” you weren’t sure if your release came before or after, but all you felt was unwavering pleasure and relief. you rested your head in the crook of his neck, you were so exhausted. “you did good, so good y/n.” coryo praised you as he pressed kisses to your forehead.

“let’s get you cleaned up yeah?”

[deadsetobsessions]

Alley Drunk! Danny AU- Pt. 4

[Pt.1] [Pt.2] [Pt.3]

Danny blinked down at the cart, where a red hoodie and pants with red stripes along the side laid over the lip of the cart. Considering they’re in this universe’s brand of Marget- seriously, who names a store Target? If anything in Amity Park was named that, Skulker would have wrecked it in five seconds flat- it’s hilariously on brand. Though, to be fair, this was Gotham’s version too, which meant a lot of security guards (who definitely doubled as goons for the Rogues, Danny was sure) and the vibes were spooky.

“I’m guessing red’s your favorite color.”

Instead of the humorous way he meant the sentence, Jason looked up anxiously and Danny immediately hated himself a little bit more.

“Sh- I can put it back..?” Jason hunched in on himself.

Danny tracked the movement with clearer eyes than he’s had in a long while and ancients, does it remind him of how Dani was in front of Vlad all those years ago. And Danny has spent his entire half life being not like Vlad, so he’s not going to start now.

“Nah, you should definitely add some more stuff. This is no where near enough clothes.”

It really wasn’t. Danny had taken Jason to the store to pick out clothes- “Ther’s a second hand store down the stree’, ya know,” Jason had mumbled when they went through the doors- but the kid had only tentatively put in a small red hoodie and some pants in the cart. Now he had to put this in a way that’ll wipe the stubbornly hesitant look on Jason’s face off.

“Think about it this way, then. You’re repping me now, and while I might be the alley drunk, I’m not the poorly dressed alley drunk, yeah?”

“Oh. Tha’ makes sense.” Jason nodded to himself determinedly, and the kid strode over to the t-shirt section. For all of his confidence, he still glanced back to see if it was okay with Danny.

Well, Dani was the same way before she found her confidence (when she knew Danny wouldn’t abandon her or hurt her) so Danny just gave him a thumbs up before reaching into the rack and sweeping an armful of clothing straight into the cart. Then, he strode over to the jackets and grabbed the ones in Jason’s size and slightly bigger. Oh, he has to grab shoes. He’ll leave that for later, but Danny was going to get those ratty trainers off of Jason’s feet and into the nearest trash can if it was the last thing he does.

The halfa hummed, pausing at the first decidedly not miserable sound he’s made in a while. Dammit, if that wasn’t a sign of Danny’s attachment to Jason, he doesn’t know what would be. To be fair… Danny already committed murder for the kid, which was pretty much something he thought he’d never do, so in for a penny out for a pound or whatever.

He put a significant amount of the budget aside for the section labeled “JASON” so Danny shopped without a worry. Charlie’s ill-gotten assets were a good monetary compensation for his crime of existing near Jason or existing, period.

He picked up toiletries, toothbrushes and the like, when Jason came back sans t-shirt. Instead of a shirt- Danny had actually hoped that Jason would try to get multiple shirts- Jason was clutching a book.

Before he could even voice anything, Danny plucked the book out of his grip and put it into the cart with a disarming smile.

“Oh, good idea. We should get you books too. Wanna go pick out some more?”

“Uh- y’re just gonna get a book, just like that?”

“More than one book, I should hope. You are going to school, right?”

“…Yeah!” Danny couldn’t fathom ever being excited at the thought of school, but as Jason bounced away to peruse the admittedly poor selection of books, Danny couldn’t help but think that maybe he should give this education thing another try. Who knows? Maybe it’ll be less stressful now that he’s not Phantom.

Danny walked to the aisle next to the books and promptly proceeded to shove every single piece of stationary he thought was nice- pens, gel pens, cooling pens and pencils, a thick stack of notebooks, flash cards, etcetera- into the rapidly getting full cart.

Jason came back with three more books- nice, the classics- and froze at the sight of the cart.

“Oh, hey. Getting all of those?”

“Wha’- wha’s wit’ the stuff?”

“School supplies! Quality education starts with quality supplies, you know!” Danny said, a sliver of the grin that used to come so easily to him making an appearance on his face. "Don't worry, I budgeted. See?"

Danny handed Jason a piece of paper, confident that the kid would know if it was good or not.

"Where'd... ya get all of this?"

"Hmm... here and there."

Jason looked up at him, squinting suspiciously. "I hear' Charlie's gone poofed up."

Danny shrugged and put a calculator in the cart. "Oh, I'm sure he's busy."

Yeah, Danny thought vindictively. Busy being dead.

"Ya sound like a walking con," Jason said as he visibly decided to give up fighting against Danny's spending. "We nee' food."

"Gotcha. Well, if you need anything else, just bring it into the cart."

"I want veggies. Frozen, 's cheaper."

Danny nodded, resisting the urge to ruffle Jason's hair.

----

"Hey, you's the Alley Drunk, right? 'Bout that boy you've been toting ar-"

Danny punched the guy in the face, dropping him like a stone. He looked up slowly and swayed.

"Any of you ask about my kid brother again, and I won't bother with being drunk when I hit you."

Rapid nods. Danny shuffled away, satisfied.

----

Two weeks later, after a school day, Danny finds Jason heading to the bathroom with a box of...

"Hair-dye?"

Jason, who was marginally more relaxed and assured that Danny wasn't going to kick him out, nodded.

"Dye's fadin' n' I dun wanna get nabbed on the streets for having red hair."

Danny blinked. "You have red hair?"

"Sure do. See? Roots are showin' again." Jason pointed at his scalp where Danny could see the hair was getting lighter.

"Right. Well- I'll leave you to it. Let me know if you need help, kiddo." Danny said, desperately hoping he hid how off kilter he was feeling well.

"I don't need help, ah've been doing this for ages." The kid went into the bathroom and closed the door harshly. When the lock clicked and the faucet began running, Danny let himself slide down the wall into a crouch, hands cradling his head.

Red hair. Blue eyes. Tan skin. The facial features. The intelligence and empathy.

Danny chuckled hysterically under his breath.

Was Jason this universe's version of Jazz?

"Fuck."

[number1jeonginstan]

A/N: Based on this ask right here! Please send feedback because I love to hear it! Also, this was such a cute write, but you know I gotta add my own twist (hehehe)

WC: 1.8k (kinda quick)

Pairing: Bf!Chan x Virgin afab!Reader

Wairing: Fluff and Smut! Loss of virginity, the reader is kinda scared of dicks (that's what was asked in the ask!), pet names (baby and sweetheart), unprotected sex (it's me and Chan, come on), cumming inside, f! fingering, idk what else

“It’s just weird to think about” you sighed, trying to explain your logic behind not wanting to have sex. Scratch that, you want to have sex with Chan, he’s been teasing you for weeks and your fingers haven’t been helping. 

Even at the beginning of your relationship, you explained to Chris that you had never had sex, and he understood, telling you it was perfectly fine, but you didn’t tell him the reason why until a few minutes ago.

“I don’t think it’s that weird, it’s a reproductive organ that all men were born with” he chuckled, watching your face of disgust. 

“Exactly, men were born with. I’m not a man, so I can live my whole life without seeing one” you emphasized as he came closer to you, nibbling on your ear. “You really can live your whole life without me inside of you baby?”

You whimpered at the thought, knowing that the last time you even looked at a cock, you were disgusted and genuinely petrified at the thought of touching it. “Maybe we can try?” you shrugged, looking up at him.

He almost groaned at the sight of your doe eyes pleading at him to give your cunt some sort of stimulation. You finally came clean about the reason you were so scared to have sex with him, even after watching you rub your thighs together in attempts to give yourself even a sliver of stimulation whenever he kissed you, he never wanted to pressure you. 

“Are you sure baby? We will take this nice and slow, we can turn off the lights too, would you like that?” You simply shook your head at that, thankful you had someone who truly cared about you.

He got up from his bed, turning off his lights, and the dimness of his LED lights, the only thing covering his room being a purple hue, allowing you to see the outline of his face. 

“Is that good baby?”

“Yes,” you replied, your voice surrounding him. He slowly shifted you, placing your covered cunt against his thigh, flexing it slightly as he dragged you against it. “Feels good baby?” he asked, kissing your neck as you moaned. 

“Feels so good” you whimpered as you continued to rut against his thigh, feeling yourself getting wetter. “Good girl” he chuckled as he flipped the two of you over, your back hitting the bed underneath you, head hitting the pillows. 

“Chan?” you whispered, confused by what his next step was going to be. “Baby, you don’t think you would be able to take my cock without any prep?” 

He slowly pulled down your sleeping shorts and underwear, basking at the sight of your cunt. 

“What a sweet-looking pussy” he moaned at the outline, the light not being bright enough to make it out fully. 

When you did feel confident in seeing him fuck you, he would ravish your cunt, eating it like his last meal. For now, though, he was going to get you ready for his cock, slowly dragging his fingers against your slit.

“Fuck Channie” you moaned, feeling his cold fingers running against your hot cunt, your mind slowly floating a bit away as you felt him put his first finger into your sopping hole, causing you to moan as your cunt clenched around it.

“Fuck baby, you need to stop clenching around one measly finger. How am I going to get you to take my cock if you can’t even take a finger?” 

“Can take it Channie, please need more” 

“Aww, baby look at you acting like such a good girl for me. If you want another finger, I can add another one just for you. You just gotta relax for me baby, can you do that?” 

You just nodded, trying to release a little bit, allowing him to slowly add another one inside of you. “There we go, look at you being such a good girl” he said, kissing the top of your forehead as he began to slowly scissor the fingers inside of you. 

“Fuck” you moaned at the sensation of his fingers inside of you. He was awe at the sight of you, you were taking his fingers so well, moaning at the feeling of him hitting your g-spot with his fingers. 

He knew you needed another source of stimulation, you needed to cum, and he wanted to make you. He slowly dragged his thumb against your clit, causing you to arch your back slightly, your head still pressed against the pillows. 

“Good girl, there we go” he kissed your lips before slowly pulling his fingers out of you, licking them. You watched in awe as he pulled them out, “taste so sweet for me baby” he groaned at your taste. 

“Now baby, are you sure that you want my cock? I’m fine with us stopping here, but I’m going to need a cold shower”

“I’m sure” you said more affirmatively, “I want you to fuck me” 

He groaned at that, slowly getting off the bed to get a condom. “Stop where are you going?” you asked a bit confused. “I’m just getting a condom baby, calm down” 

“Please don’t” you whined, you wanted to feel him fully your first time, not wanting anything in the way. “Baby, are you sure? I know you are on birth control, but I want to make sure you are comfortable, we can use a condom”

“No Channie, wanna feel you fully, wanna feel all of you” you whined, grabbing his hand and pulling him back to your bed. 

“Fuck” he whisperedd to himself as he pulled his shorts down his legs, throwing them god knows where, the same with his shirt. He couldn’t believe he was going to fuck your pretty little pussy, not to mention raw. 

“Wanna help” you whimpered, supporting yourself on your elbows as you took his cock in your hands, a bit perplexed on how warm it was, but you ran your hand up and down it. You noticed how Chan threw his head back, a moan leaving his lips along with your name. 

“Fuck sweetheart, if you keep going like that, I’m going to cum” 

“What if that’s what I want you to do?” you giggled, watching his pupils dilate under the purple hue. “Baby, you should be glad it’s your first time, or else I would have fucked you for acting like a brat” 

You hummed at his tone as he took his cock back in his hands. “You sure baby?” he asked one more time, waiting for you to say yes. As soon as you did, he ran the tip of his cock along your wet slit, causing the two of you to groan simultaneously. 

“I’m gonna put it in now” 

“Please do Channie” 

He slowly started off with just the tip of his cock inside of you, your walls hugging him in so tight that he slowly began to push more inside of you. 

It didn’t feel uncomfortable, just a bit foreign. You had never had anything as big as Chan inside of you before, so it was a new experience, but something you could see yourself getting used to and loving. 

 Chan could see you in your own head so he slowed down. “Is it too much baby, I can slow down”

“No, please don’t, feels so good” you whimpered as he slowly continued his almost snail like pace, pushing his cock inside of you. Chan knew he was big and didn’t want to hurt you to chase his own high. He wanted to make sure it was perfect for you, even if he had to go at such a slow pace. 

It took a couple minutes for him to fully situate himself into your cunt, the tip so far deep that he could see your face contort in pleasure. 

He let himself stay there, too scared to move, that was until you whined underneath him, begging to feel him move his big cock. “Fuck baby, you don’t know what you do to me” he whined as he slowly took his cock out of you before thrusting it inside of you.

He felt so good inside of you, but you needed more, needed him to go faster.  “Please Chris, need more please go faster” 

How could he disagree when you looked up at him with your watery doe eyes.

He began to thrust into you faster, causing you to whimper, his cock feeling hot inside of you, hitting your cervix with every thrust.  “Fuck baby, this pussy is so tight, can’t wait to fuck it all the time” 

“Yes Channie, want you to fuck me whenever you want. Feels so good, so fucking good” 

“Yeah baby, you loving my cock inside of you, want me to cum inside too?” 

“Yes please please please” you pleaded, wrapping your legs around his torso, causing him to quicken his pace as he placed one hand over your clit, rubbing it in tandem to his thrusts. 

“Yeah baby, fuck, can feel you clenching around my cock. I know you are close, why don’t you come for me baby, please cum for me” he whined, kissing your neck, leaving marks all over it. He needed to feel you cum on his cock, needed to make you feel good.

“Fuck Channie, I’m gonna cum, gonna cum” your walls clenched around him as a white ring was visible around the base of his cock, causing you to moan at the sight. 

“Fuck gonna cum, are you gonna let me cum in this perfect little cunt of yours?”

“Yes, please cum in me” you whimpered, your entire body feeling overstimulated at his cock continuing to plow inside of you, him chasing his own high. 

With a few more thrusts, he came inside, his head tossed back, allowing you to see his adam’s apple bobbing at the feeling of your cunt sucking in his cum. 

He slowly pulled out, watching his cum and your own mix, slowly falling out of you. 

“Wait here baby, let me clean you up” he quickly pecked your lips before running to the bathroom to get a warm wash cloth, running it down your legs before handing you a glass of water from his side table.

“Let’s go to the bathroom, I already started a bathe for you” he kissed your lips after seeing your tired nod, picking you up bridal style before placing you into his bath tub, him entering right behind you, allowing you to rest your back on his chest. 

“How was it baby?” he asked, kissing your shoulder before hugging you. 

“Amazing Channie” you giggled before slowly closing your eyes, surrounding yourself with him. 

[mystsee]

MESMERIZED ✦ KEEGAN P. RUSS

✦ about: keegan is mesmerized with you since he first met you ♡

✦ content: NSFW +18, virgin!reader, afab reader, blood, guns & death mentions, panic attacks, misogyny

✦ a.n: the boots i kinda imagined are the moonboots!

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

in the sun-kissed landscapes of italy, you, with your captivating charm and surprising intelligence, was dealing with a meeting with very higher ups in the politic world, things were going so far so good.

that was until your boss, a figure whom you trusted very much, revealed to you the news. a deployment to russia as a military translator.

nervous feelings ran down your spine, not from the revelation of a new challenge, but from the anticipation of russia’s frigid embrace. most of the time, you were assigned to help translate in missions involving trafficking, drugs, dark stuff like that. and having to translate for the “bad guys” involved them being not so nice to you. mostly because they don’t like a woman all up on their dark buisness.

nevertheless, you knew you were going to be protected, and the military people have never treated you wrong.

you prepared your clothes, having to use a bigger backpack due to all the puffy jackets, scarfs, you know, all cold related things. which you do not protest! the colder the weather, the better you can dress.

right now you had a puffy black jacket, warm leggings with a thick skirt attached! it was 100x more comfortable because now your ass didn’t have to feel all the cold seats anymore. and of course your puffy boots, thick beige fur covering the boots. one thing about you is your feet were always cold, making you use like 3 layers of socks!

you arrived late night, making the cold even worse but you managed to cover the lower half of your face with your scarf, seriously the cold was so bad in here. as you disembarked from the helicopter, the biting russian cold embraced you, making you shiver involuntarily.

you were greeted warmly by your captain “nice to see you again over here” he smiled warmly “i’m glad too, really missed the artic” he laughed at that, how could he be out here with only a small jacekt?!

he noticed your shivering frame, you thought you were hiding it well, making him start leading you through the snow-covered landscape over to base.

upon entering, all eyes turned towards you – a mix of amazement and curiosity danced in the gaze of your new colleagues, you knew your boots were quite attention catching, probably why everyone kept staring at you.

to say you were pretty was little, it was obvious everyone in the room found you beautiful, but you didn’t pay it any mind, again thinking maybe your boots were standing out a bit too much, not the way your thighs looked so good with the skirt on top, but! they would need to get used to see your babies, they were your go-to in cold weather.

however, one pair of eyes stood out, belonging to keegan. he almost looked mesmerized with you. he watched you stride with an unyielding confidence, almost model like, the skirt making your hips move so so pretty, that it was making it hard for him to stop staring at you.

somehow your eyes found his, thanking the heavens you had your scarf covering your cheeks because you were blushing so hard rn, his gaze lingered, an admiring intensity in his eyes that you almost tripped.

only his eyes, a window to the unspoken thoughts within, were visible, making you curious. as his fellow soldier spoke, keegan’s attention remained freezed on you, his focus unyielding, and the words of his comrade fading into the background of his silent admiration.

the spell was broken as soon as the captain opened the door to his office, inviting you in to debrief the mission with you. you were going with keegan’s team to help them gather intel, they were trying to find a very big drug dealer, and you translating, would help them find him faster.

tomorrow morning would be your first mission with them, yet you still didn’t know who keegan was, making it intriguing whom you’d be working with.

captain showed you your room, it was a basic military room, a twin sized bed in the middle, small vanity to your left, a desk in the other size to the room, and a small window, last but not least, your own bathroom.

you pleaded your boss to give you your own bathroom, there was enough experiences a girl can have in a shared bathroom used by men.

you started investigating about who you were translating for tomorrow, loosing the track of time. by the time you finished it was 3 am, making you worry a little, you were leaving tomorrow at 6 am.

you were almost going to bed when your stomach rumbled, making you internally groan, you knew that if you didn’t sleep, insomnia would make its way to you.

rolling your eyes you went to the kitchen, you thought everyone was asleep rn, so you paid no mind yo your outfit, a small cropped sweatshirt, leggings and fluffy slippers.

you were about to eat your slice of bread with jam when a sudden voice made you drop it to the washer “can’t sleep?” “jesus fuck!” you swore you felt your heart stop for a second, you never saw anyone in here!

you turned around to see the same guy from before, keegan, who just stared at you, seated in a chair with a book in his hands, it almost looked like he was trying to contain his laugh.

“what’s wrong with you!” you said with a smile laughing, he probably saw your bread jump to the washer “me? nothing, was just asking” he said it so proud of himself “how do you even read with all the lights off?” by now you had turned to him, still by the counter “i wasn’t reading, i was drinking tea” “oh” you never saw the cup of tea beside the book silly you.

“just know you ruined my dinner” you said pouting “and you asked my what’s wrong with me” he said scoffing “oh come on, don’t tell me you don’t eat late at night” “no i do princess, just not a bread with jam at 3 in the morning” his nickname made you stop your breath for a second, deciding to pay no mind to it “but you do you princess” he was by your side now, putting his cup of tea in the washer, until you saw him freeze next to you, there was small light coming from outside, oh yea, you had no bra on.

he could see see your breasts, your nipples to be precise, under your sweatshirt, practically begging to be touched, your sweatshirt was so small it had ridden up just a tiny bit when you were making your dinner, making keegan see a small part of your under breast.

“princess” keegan suddenly moved closer to you, making you see his eyes better, revealing a captivating shade of blue, a mesmerizing hue that held a subtle warmth within its cool depths, caught your attention.

his gaze, unwavering in its intensity, sent a gentle warmth through you, leaving a blush on your cheeks again, a silent acknowledgment of the unspoken connection forged in that shared moment.

“you still don’t know my name” which was true making you ask for it, when he said it, he saw the realization in your eyes “oh! i’m working with you in the next mission” you said a bit breathlessly “glad to have you with us” you could see the deep appreciation for you in his eyes.

keegan had heard about you, he knew of your well-regarded reputation as a translator, held a silent acknowledgment of the confidentiality that shrouded your professional endeavors.

in the subtle lines of his expression, you could see respect for the enigma that surrounded you, a recognition that spoke volumes without uttering a single word. “thank you” you said, he just nodded to you, he was so close to you now you could feel his chest, and his chest could feel your nipples. you just held your breath keeping eye contact with him “well, princess, you must get your sleep, i won’t keep you up” you were in a trance when he moved, snapping you out of it “goodnight keegan” you said in a small voice. keegan smiled behind his mask.

ever since then, a connection quietly unfolded between you and keegan. it initially started as him being a distant observer, he always kept his eyes on you everywhere you went, even more when you were speaking russian towards the males, you held such confidence with you he was deeply allured with you.

his presence evolved into a silent shield, a comforting assurance amidst the unfamiliarity of a foreign land. he may couldn’t understand russian, but he sure as hell could see the body language and the tones they were speaking to you.

everytime he could sense any sort of verbal assault at you, his steely gaze fixed upon the adversaries with an intensity that spoke volumes, as well as his hidden raised gun;), sensing the weight of his silent threat, they found themselves silenced. even though you had no idea he was threatening them behind you.

you always knew keegan had your back, and silently thanked him for it. as the time passed, you felt keegan more protective of you, and you more attentive of him, you two were almost all the time together.

there were moments, a shared smile in the midst of icy winds, or a wordless understanding in the chaos of a mission, that spoke louder than words. in these instances, his protective instinct manifested – a steady hand guiding you through the challenges, a silent assurance that you were not alone. metaphorically as well as physically.

his interactions evolved into a touch that carried a warmth beyond mere protection. his gestures, once purely professional, became tinged with an affectionate familiarity.

a guiding hand on the small of your back during a mission briefing or a reassuring touch on your shoulder in moments of uncertainty, each contact seemed to convey a connection that lingered beyond the realm of your relationship.

these touches carried a feeling of something more, a silent language of shared emotions between you and him. in the hushed moments when his hand lingered a second longer than necessary or the gentle squeeze that accompanied a reassuring smile.

in the dim glow of the base's common area, keegan’s touches continued to weave a tapestry of unspoken connection. a shared moment over a map had his fingers brushing against yours, the contact lingering for a heartbeat longer than required, it was practically normal for you to be blushing around him now.

during a particularly challenging mission, his arm found its way around your shoulders, a protective embrace in the face of caos. in that moment you just wanted to be beside him all the time, you felt safe around him.

there was also a time in which keegan was behind you, listening to what you would be doing, until he felt rather not okay with what you were supposed to do. he suddenly put his hand discreetly on your waist, and the other arm in front of your chest, his hand subtly telling “no”

“she’s with us, meaning we protect her, what you’re saying is risky for her, she won’t do it” you felt warmth on your chest. you have never experienced this, the other teams you had been were never this attentive with you. it was a weird emotion for you, you were used to always seek for yourself.

in the quiet of the nights, a shared gaze held more than words could express. keegan’s hand, a reassuring presence, sought yours across the table, fingers intertwining with yours, squeezing your fingers every now and then. he did that more times than you could count.

the line between friendship and something deeper became increasingly blurred, leaving both of you suspended in the uncharted territory of unspoken emotions.

the endearing term "princess" slipped from his lips almost all the time, a word you loved hearing from him even though you never tell him. it became a private language, whether in the midst of a mission or during quiet evenings, the endearment echoed, making you warm inside all the time.

keegan’s feelings had transcended the boundaries of friendship, evolving into a profound connection that bordered into almost being in love with you.

his gaze, once intense, now carried a softness that showed a deep admiration, a mesmerizing allure that held him captivated in your presence.

his eyes just seemed to follow you everywhere, absorbing every detail of you, every facet of your being, as if etching your essence into his soul.

the desire to be with you became a palpable force, an unspoken longing that lingered in the spaces between conversations. the way his fingers sought yours, the way he leaned in, just a fraction closer than necessary – each action seemed to fluster you more and more.

you too couldn’t deny it, you felt drawn to him, but even with the warmth of his company and shared moments, there was a bit of confusion.

your feelings were kind of mixed up, wanting to connect with him but also feeling unsure about it. it’s like a struggle between what your heart wants and what your head is thinking.

you just don’t know how to respond to him :(

figuring out your own feelings became a bit like wandering through a maze, with no clear destination.

being close to keegan made you feel good, but accepting his love brought its own set of uncertainties. you tried taking things one step at a time, trying to make sense of your own heart and the budding feelings between you two.

until you just couldn’t anymore

you were in a very heated meeting with keegan, as always, behind you, talking to a very dangerous person, in a very dangerous place, at any moment now something could happen, making you feel on edge all the time there. you felt keegan’s hand hold your shoulder softly, reminding you he is here with you.

in the middle of the conversation, you saw in less than a second the man’s eyes change, from angry, to weirdly happy, like he was going to be free from all this interrogation. you were confused, until you heard it.

bullets and bullets and more bullets echoed in the building, as well as some passing through the windows in the small office you were. in a second keegan had moved you, shielding you from any possible damage

you heard him speak to the captain, the captain said they were under attack, making difficult to get out of there. you were alone inside with keegan and the man, he was tied to the table though, so you weren’t worried he would escape.

keegan held you behind his back, opening the door and checking if it was safe to go out. he made a clear sign and went to the right side. you were shaking of fear, you could hear explosions all over the place, the shaking of the floor, bullets everywhere, it was crazy.

suddenly a man spawned out of nowhere pulling keegan and tried stabbing him.

the military gave you a gun before you left, you had basic military training, knew how to use a gun, yet never needed to. but seeing keegan almost being stabbed made you react on instinct, you pulled your gun in less than a second and shoot the bastard. keegan’s was free from the man’s arm and shot another bullet between his head.

you just stood there, the adrenaline was making it hard to process what just happened, but you could feel your body trembling with fear, you may have possibly just killed a man. you’ve never done that in your life.

keegan saw the fear in your eyes “princess, hey, i need you to focus on me” keegan’s grabbed your face, you stared at him, worry clear in your eyes “you saved me and you’re a fucking badass for that” keegan’s appreciation words dragged you out of the dark thoughts you were falling to.

you both heard footsteps approaching you, making keegan grab your hand, tight, and walked to the other direction, you moved faster than him, adrenaline was making you rushed now, until you were about to move to the other corner of the hallway and saw armed men looking for, you supposed, keegan and you.

you pushed keegan back, startling him for a second, until he could hear the voices. you had a door next to you, keegan opened it and dragged you both inside. it was small, very small, yet enough for hiding. keegan turned you so his back was to the door, always protecting you first.

you on the other hand, was shaking shitless again, you could understand what they were saying, they were here for you, obviously not happy at all that you knew about what they were doing.

keegan once again tried dragging you out of your starting panic attack, he said your name twice trying to get your attention. you looked at him, you were very much fucking scared.

“hey, you’re with me, i won’t let anything happen to you okay?” you felt one of keegan’s hand hold your head softly, the other went to your back. you then realized he was hugging you, you were so close to each other he didn’t even need to moved you closer. you moved your hands to hold his back too, resting your head on his shoulder.

in the middle of the chaotic circumstances, keegan emerged as your anchor, his presence became the grounding point that helped you survive this.

it was then when it hit you, the realization, the profound connection that resonated beyond words. attempting to utter his name, you found your voice stifled by anxiety, your very core trembling with fear.

keegan, ever perceptive, tightened his hold around you, a silent reassurance.

as the threat passed by your door, keeping your mouth shut became a necessity, not just for the mission at hand but also to guard the burgeoning emotions inside you.

after a few minutes, you could hear them muffled, meaning they were far. keegan opened the door, still holding you, and looked out, he saw that it was clear “let’s go princess”

the next few minutes was you and keegan trying to get out of here, it was almost like a maze, the explosions seemed to calm down as well as the bullets. but there was still people looking for you.

you were about to turn to your left when a hand grabbed you from your neck, choking you, you tried to scream, but the man was fast, he suddenly pushed you to the wall, punching you in the face, almost breaking your nose, but you moved just in time your face, hitting you in the cheek.

you suddenly remembered you had a gun, you pulled it out, raising it fast to the middle of his head and shot him quick.

it was ugly, scary, and it glued you to your spot, all his blood soaked you, yet his hold on you loosened, making the man fall to your shoulder, surely staining your coat.

you were so fucking scared you thanked the lord keegan grabbed the man and lunched him to the wall behind.

you were again almost in shock, but keegan was in front of you fast “come on baby, we need to leave this hell” keegan kept dragging you, your body fully trusting him, because you were going into shock now.

you saw light, and finally you were out, a few dead people scattered on the ground, not helping you at all.

it until you saw the familiar humvee you felt slight ease. everyone saw your state, blood soaking all your face, dripping all over your coat. quite a sight. keegan just shakes his head to his teammates, silently telling them that you needed space now.

the soldiers admired you, even cared for you after all this time, it was clear seeing you like this worried them, but they trusted keegan, and they know you trust keegan too.

keegan helped you up the humvee, sitting next to you, you felt him whispering beside you “you okay?” you just nodded taking a small ragged breath, wiping your nose. you felt disgusting, you could feel the man’s blood dripping down your nose, the need to shower was strong right now.

keegan just softly held your hand, squeezing it to help you ground yourself, but you just couldn’t, you were so bloody anxious right now you couldn’t stop moving your leg up and down.

keegan felt it, slightly worried about you, he knew you’ve never been in combat before, let alone kill someone. you felt his hand slowly let go of yours, and put it on top of your thigh, making you halt your movements.

he kept it there slightly above your knee, massaging a little, not daring to move his hand up higher.

the ride to base was just the captain talking to someone on the radio, other than that, it was silent.

as soon as you arrived to base, you hurried out of the humvee, and fast towards the barracks, feeling the weight of the mission on your shoulders. you desperately needed the shower.

keegan stayed by the humvee, not following you right away. he stood there, giving you room. he could understand the impact of what just happened, and knew letting you calm down first was a good idea.

the letting you calm down time meant maybe you would come out of your room later, but now, it was 11:45 pm, and keegan was more than worried about you now. he had no idea you were still in the shower, living the past event over and over in your head.

you just couldn’t erase the image from your brain, just seeing the man’s eyes go lifeless in front of you, it was such a crazy thing to look at, and you weren’t dealing with it very okay.

you felt dirty, even though you cleaned your body more than twice. you had lost the track of time, you were so inside your brain you forgot to eat something. your stomach begging for food now, making you feel nauseous.

you just put on a brown long sleeve sweatshirt with some random leggings. you knew it was last midnight now, making it easier for you, you didn’t want to see anyone right now.

keegan, on the verge of heading to your room, noticed you entering the kitchen. your eyes were red, and your nose was puffy – the signs of tears evident. the concern on his face deepened as he observed the aftermath of emotions that had washed over you. he paused, recognizing the fragility in your demeanor, reconsidering whether to approach and offer comfort in this vulnerable moment.

spotting keegan in the kitchen, you froze in place. your hair, still damp, added a chill to the atmosphere, and a subtle shiver ran through you. keegan stood there, his worry evident in his eyes. the unspoken concern made you feel a twinge of guilt for disappearing, realizing the impact it had on him.

feeling the wave of emotions crash over you once again, tears welled up, and sobs escaped despite your efforts. a whispered "i'm sorry" escaped your lips, muffled by your trembling hand pressed against your mouth. the vulnerability laid bare.

in an instant, keegan was by your side. dressed in a simple black sweatshirt and cargo pants, he became your anchor once again.

his chest against your trembling form, you held him tight, as if seeking solace in the warmth of his presence. his hands gently cradled your head and waist, offering a silent reassurance, “nothin’ to be sorry about princess” you could feel his deep voice rumble in his chest “it’s okay”

his hand now gently petting your hair as you clung to him. between sobs, you began to express the guilt weighing on your chest. "i feel so bad for leaving like that" you admitted, the words punctuated by shaky breaths.

the shock of your actions you did a while ago lingered, casting a shadow on your thoughts. the vulnerability in sharing your feelings with keegan felt both liberating and daunting. it was a bad habit of yours, disappear whenever you felt any emotion that wasn’t happiness. it was normal to you:( even if it’s been more than 12 hours since you last emerged from your room.

keegan’s voice, calm and reassuring, cut through the heaviness of the moment. "it's okay," he whispered, his hand still tenderly stroking your hair. "you're here now, and that's what matters."

a flicker of strength ignited within you, and you stood a little taller, you pressed a tender kiss on keegan’s cheek, your hand lingering on his face for a heartbeat. his eyes held an unspoken love, you could see it clearly now.

keegan’s question for the kiss hung in the air, a gentle curiosity evident in his gaze. you felt his mask close and his breaths deepen, you took a moment, meeting his intense eyes. "it’s a thank you," you said softly, "for always protecting me."

his response was a tightening of the embrace, bringing you even closer. his face, now near yours, held an intensity matched by the deep breaths he took. in a rough voice deep with emotion, he confessed, "you driving me fucking crazy." the admission hung in the air, your cheeks flushing furiously.

a playful challenge danced in your eyes as you maintained intense eye contact. "what if you show me how much I drive you crazy?" you suggested, your doe eyes locked onto his.

a groan escaped him as he dropped his head to your shoulder. laughter bubbled from you, but your breath hitched as keegan shifted, causing your sweatshirt to ride up slightly. the short length and absence of a bra made you almost flash him your right breast.

keegan could feel it, in fact, he could feel your nipples pressed on him since he hugged you, making his pants feel tighter.

you felt keegan’s hand move up, near your breast, starting to massage there, making you blush furiously “may i remind you were are still in public keegan” you didn’t want anyone walk in on keegan almost touching your breasts, in the middle of the kitchen.

startling you in a swift motion, he lifted you off the ground, his strong hold on your bum leaving you feeling both surprised and strangely like jelly inside, and before you could voice your concerns, he began walking towards your room.

you were silently screaming at him about the possibility of getting caught, but keegan just tightened his hold on you more like squeezing your booty, effectively silencing you.

the situation didn't seem to faze him as he navigated the corridors, your protests muted in the intensity of the moment. the world outside seemed to fade away as keegan carried you and opened your door, leaving behind a trail of laughter and a flutter of unspoken excitement.

you thought he was going to drop you now, but no! he just went to your bed, and dropped you, making you bounce and laugh at what he just did “such a romantic” keegan just held the back of your legs and dragged you near his cock.

that motion made your shirt roll up, now showing him your bare breasts. you widened your eyes a little, but keegan looked like he was more enamored by you now “what a fucking sight i have” he couldn't help but revel in the intimate view of you beneath him. your eyes, filled with affection, locked onto his, radiating a warmth that mirrored the depth of your connection.

the air thickened with tension, and keegan couldn't ignore the tightening in his pants, a physical response to the emotional intimacy and the allure of the moment. “look how you make me feel princess” you could feel it, near your cunt, his big cock, making a big tent in his pants.

you just couldn’t anymore, you rolled your hips up a little, the sensation almost made you cum on the spot, but keegan just made a noise of disapproval “nuh uh, let me have my time with my princess yeah?” you blushed even more when keegan took a hold of your hips, and slowly moved his hands up, dying to touch your breasts.

when his hands finally felt them, he was on cloud 9. they were so soft and moldeable in his hands he could feel precum leaking from his cock. keegan lowered himself close your breasts, rolled his mask up, and licked your nipple making you moan.

he started sucking on your nipple like a man starved, while the other hand groped your other breast, pinching your nipple and rolling it between his fingers. you were panting, his hands were god sent, as well as his mouth.

that’s when you felt the sudden urge to kiss him. and you couldn’t wait anymore. feeling the magnetic pull, you took charge, gently dragging his face upward to meet yours. in a bold move, your lips crashed against his, a collision of desire and longing.

a sound of contentment escaped keegan, emotions flowing between you like an electric current. the world outside the moment ceased to exist as the intensity of the kiss spoke volumes, an unspoken exchange of emotions and desires woven into the fabric of that stolen, passionate embrace.

keegan deepened the kiss even more, angling your head better, he was heaven sent. in the heat of the kiss, your hands, seemingly of their own accord, found their way to his mask. it became an unconscious exploration, a touch laden with curiosity. unexpectedly, keegan broke the kiss, startling you, and swiftly snatched away his mask.

in the soft glow of the small light, his face was revealed, and you found yourself enraptured by the sight of him.

"you’re so beautiful" the words slipped from your lips almost involuntarily. a deep resonance of satisfaction echoed in keegan’s chest, and without a moment's hesitation, he dragged you up. seated on his knees, you found yourself straddling him, his hands on your waist and bum, fondling with it making you whine, as your lips met again in a deep, intoxicating kiss, yet you felt needy.

involuntarily you moved your hips, grinding right on his cock, making him groan deeply “fuck baby, you’re going to make me cum” knowing he was as aroused as you made you feel even more needy, making you grind your hips even more.

keegan’s hand took a hold of your hips, making you stop your movements. you whined again, even surprising you, you’ve never met this side of you, so needy of someone.

keegan's touch on your face was soft, almost reverent. he spoke with a gentle intensity, "i want to worship you. let me." the request hung in the air, and you, captivated by the depth of his gaze, agreed with a simple nod.

with deliberate tenderness, keegan laid you back onto the bed, his hands moving to the fabric of your clothes. He began with your sweatshirt, each movement deliberate and unhurried, as if unraveling the layers of vulnerability and desire between you two. as he raised your sweatshirt up, his hands once again touched your breasts, making you moan lowly.

keegan just smirked, having removed your sweatshirt, he then proceeded to shed his own shirt. the unveiling of his toned body drew an involuntary blush to your cheeks. his eyes caught yours, and a playful smile graced his lips.

"like what you see?" he teased, the husky timbre of his voice adding a layer of seduction to the moment. the air hung heavy with anticipation as you met his gaze, your response a silent affirmation that echoed in the space between you two.

keegan, still holding your gaze with an intensity that spoke volumes, continued his deliberate exploration. his hands, deft and unhurried, moved to your leggings.

with tenderness, he peeled them away, revealing more of your vulnerability. the room seemed to pulse with shared desire as each layer of clothing fell away, creating an intimate tapestry of connection between you and Keegan.

you were only with your panties on now, and keegan with his grey boxers, not hiding anything, making you slightly anxious, he looked very big, and you’ve never done this before.

a sudden realization gripped you, and you couldn't help but say, "wait" keegan, on the verge of sliding your panties off, halted immediately, his expression shifting to one of concern.

nervously, you confessed, "i’ve never done this before." the vulnerability in your admission hung in the air, an unspoken plea for understanding and patience. the room, once charged with desire, now held a new layer of intimacy.

keegan, surprised by your revelation, felt a renewed sense of responsibility. he looked into your eyes, the desire tempered with understanding, and reassured you, "i’ll go slow. we’ll take it at your pace."

his words carried a gentle promise, a commitment to make you feel at ease in this intimate moment. keegan then slowly slide your panties off, your cunt now bare and displayed in front of him. keegan just stared at it for a second, absolutely beautiful he thought; all shiny with your slick, begging for some attention. and who was he to deny it.

one thing about keegan, he loved foreplay, and you, you liked it too, but he’s made you cum twice! fingers and tongue involved, you weren’t complaining, but you really wanted his cock now.

from where you were, you could see his boxer stained with precum, making you whine, you were past needy now “i need you keegan, please” keegan heard the whiny tone from you, making his cock even more hard.

“such a needy princess aren’t you” keegan swiftly removed his boxers down, his cock sprang free on his stomach. your mouth was watering just seeing it. it was big, veiny and thick.

you didn’t think it, you were on all 4s now, keegan was looking behind dropping his boxer when he felt your mouth on his cock, making him hiss loud as well as whined “fuck princess, what are you doing?” you could hear his voice strained, like he was containing himself.

you didn’t answer, it was your first time doing this, yet you felt confident when you swallowed almost his whole cock down your throat, making keegan’s hands grab your head, pushing you deeper, making his eyes roll back.

“who taught you this?” he was a panting mess now, you kept bobbing your head up and down, using your angelic hands to grab his balls, swollen with his cum, massaging them, making keegan go all over the edge.

he didn’t warn you, just grabbed your head dragging it all the way down, thrusting his big cock down your throat, moaning loud. you decided to look at him then, giving your best puppy eyes you could, making keegan mesmerized with you, you could see all his reactions from here, his stomach clenching, his mouth panting, and his eyes full of love.

“i’m gonna cum love” you felt keegan trying to move his cock out of your mouth, but you just grabbed his hips, pushed them to you, and moving your tongue around his veiny cock.

keegan cummed on the spot, thick white ropes of cum going all the way down your throat, you as the princess you are, swallowed it whole, keeping your hand on his balls, feeling them clench everytime he cummed.

you were sure keegan was about to pass out now, that was the hardest orgasm he’s ever felt.

his desire was evident in the intensity of his gaze, deciding to take charge. his hands gently grasped your head, lifting you slightly making you put your hands on his big muscular chest. a deep, intense kiss ensued, each meeting of your lips sending a shiver through your body.

keegan murmured a sweet praise, "you’re such a beautiful good girl aren’t you?" he was still in his post orgasmic state, making you laugh a little, but this man had a very strong stamina.

you could feel his cock hard again in between your stomach making you put your hand on top of his slit. he bucked his hips a little “come on now” he said with a strained voice “let me make you feel good” desire evident in his voice.

keegan laid you down on the bed, moving your thighs open, letting your cunt once open to him. keegan not waisting a second now, aligned his cock with your cunt, dragging it up and down your folds “stop teasing keegan” you said pouting.

it took you by surprise when you felt his tip in your entrance, making you stop your breath for a second, keegan was smirking now, how easy it was to shut your needy ass up.

“i’ll go slow yeah? you tell me if it too much princess” keegan started sliding his thick cock insided your virgin cunt, it felt weird, a slight burn everytime he slide deeper.

keegan on the other hand was in awe, he saw your cunt swallowing his cock inside, inch by inch, your puffy clit at view too. in a second keegan had his hand on your clit, slowly circling it, making you moan, allowing his cock to slide further.

once he bottomed, he stayed there, he was still on his knees, allowing him a beautiful view. you had your knees next to your breasts, his cock swallowed by your cunt, your face flushed.

he couldn’t wait anymore, keegan dropped his forearms next to your head, and started grinding his cock inside your cunt. you felt so full, and him grinding was almost hitting your womb, making you moan loudly. “keegan you’re so deep” you said frowning from pleasure, your nails were on his big muscular biceps, hanging on for dear life.

“does it feel good?” “very fucking good” you said moaning the last word, keegan had his head hidden on your neck, his pace now a bit faster, balls hitting your ass everytime he thrusted, the skin to skin slapping sound resonating all over your room, creating such an erotic scene.

keegan then raised his head and kissed you deeply, his hand holding your head softly, you could feel him even deeper now. he had you on a mating press, his chest squeezing your breasts making your nipples stand out even more “you feel so fucking good princess” “this cunt belongs to me yeah” “you’re all fucking mine”

keegan kept saying this small praises everytime he thrusted, but what made your orgasm come quick was when he said you were his. yes you were. you were his since you met him. he was there for you ever since then, always by his side, always his.

“y-yes i am” keegan’s intense gaze was on you now “i’m yours keegan, all yours” he hit a particular spot inside you that you saw stars, moaning loud “say that again princess” “i’m yours” keegan was about to cum just from hearing you say that.

“and you’re all mine” you kissed him hard when you said that. keegan never thought you were the possessive type, yet when he heard you say that, you could say he fell in love even deeper “you’re all fucking mine keegan” you started meeting his thrusts with your hips, your clit rubbing with his stomach making your orgasm come fast.

keegan could feel it, you were clenching stronger now, almost making him stop his movements “you cumming princess?” that goddamn nickname was going to be the death of you “i want to cum with you”

your needy voice made keegan tighten his hold on you, and thrust deeper, and slower. keegan grabbed your face and kissed you, his other hand rubbing your clit. making you cum hard.

keegan cummed in an instant too, feeling your cunt clenching around his cock too, your orgasm so hard you closed your eyes. he cummed inside you, sliding even further, letting all his cum coat your walls with him. only him.

he stayed there for a while, letting you come down from the high. you were breathing hard, his cock now softening inside you, yet you didn’t want him to come out yet.

you used your feet to hit him on the hips, making him slide a bit more “stay here for a while” keegan caught the message, you wanted to cuddle. with him still inside you.

you were a sucker for cuddles, and touch starved. so when keegan laid down, still inside you, and dragged you almost on top of him, you felt shivers down your spine.

as keegan’s arms enveloped you in a tender embrace, a warmth spread through you, reaching the neglected corners of your soul. the gentle cradle of his arms was a stark contrast to the void you hadn’t realized existed, a reminder of the absence of such intimate touch in your life.

his arms forming a protective cocoon around you, fingers tracing soothing patterns on your back. the rise and fall of his chest against your back mirrored the rhythm of shared breaths, creating a serene melody.

it wasn't just the physical closeness; it was the profound sense of being seen and held, a silent promise that in his arms, you were cherished and safe.

a few minutes had passed when you felt keegan sitting up, you as well on his lap, making you pout “don’t make that face” he said condescending “i need to clean you up yeah?”

keegan carried you all the way down your bathroom, again, still inside you, and seated you on the counter. he took a really long look to your breasts. such beautiful breasts just sitting there, making him want to hold them again.

“enjoying the view” you said in a proud tone, keegan just moved his eyes to your face and laid a small kiss to your cheek. you started feeling how keegan slid his now soft cock out your cunt, once it was all out, he just stayed there, looking at both your cunt and his cock “look at the mess you made love”

his cock was full of his cum, and yours, you felt all his cum slide out of your cunt, now on the counter, the sight making keegan’s cock start hardening again, and you saw that as well.

you just stared at him, beautiful doe eyes, and grabbed his cock. “can’t get tired of this cock huh?” you just smiled, stood up, and dragged him to the shower. that was the best shower sex you’ve ever had.

after the shower, keegan was behind you like a lost puppy, just wanting to be near you, touching your waist, squishing it, as well as your bum, all while you were doing your small skin care.

and on bed? keegan was even more cuddly than you! he said, scratch that, obliged you to be the little spoon. now you had his beautiful face right next to you, his hand drawing small circles in your waist, going near your breasts to tease you, your legs tangled beneath the sheets. you could get used to this.

“so, for how long have i driven you crazy?” keegan heard the cheekiness in your voice, you probably knew keegan was head over heels for you, acting all dumb to torture him, making keegan groan behind you “i’m going to keep it with for a while”

you laughed, putting your hands on top of the one that was on your waist, dragging it near your lips, planting a soft kiss there. when you kissed his hand, an unexpected tenderness surged within him, like a flood of warmth.

in response, he hid his face against your neck, as if to shield himself from the cascade of emotions, laying a few kisses here and there. you really could get used to this.

♡

AHHHHHH the end ;’[ i love fluff, was deciding if splitting this into chapters but i got carried away and made it a one shot jiji

hope u liked it!

[nereidprinc3ss]

come on home

in which the only person who can comfort you after your breakup with spencer reid, is spencer reid

inspired by the song "summer's end" by the artist currently known as phoebe bridgers

wc 2857

warnings: gn!reader (correct me if im wrong), minor mommy issues, angst, happy ending

a/n: thank you to the person who requested this:) u r an angel and I listened to this song the whole time i wrote (if you haven't heard, listen!!) i sincerely hope you enjoy, i like this one a lot<3

She hung up on you. 

Forty-seven minutes of being insulted and berated after you’d called her looking for comfort, and you put up with every single cruel word—just for your mother to hang up on you. And it’s exactly the kind of thing she’d do, so you shouldn’t be surprised. An ache, you’d expect—but it shouldn’t sting like this. You thought you knew better. 

Now you’re in a ball on your couch, clutching your phone to your chest and crying. There’s no point hiding it. Your roommate is out with her girlfriend for the evening—which is too bad because even though you feel like being alone, you’re sure that’s the wrong call. Your other friends are out having fun tonight, too. They’d even invited you, but you turned them down. Look where that had gotten you. Obviously, your mother is not the person you’re about to run to for comfort, either. 

You try to pretend, while you’re thinking of all these people who have ever cared for you, that Spencer Reid isn’t on your mind at all. You try to pretend like you don’t care that the person who loved you until you believed you actually deserved it is a contact going stale deep in the bowels of your text cache. With bleary eyes you scroll down, looking for your conversation where it gathers dust—the end of your relationship was a mutual decision, and you’re friendly, but you haven’t texted in a few weeks. Probably because every time the conversation starts to feel a little too easy, or the phone call lasts a little too long, that aching void in your chest gets worse and worse. Like pain in a phantom limb, you become acutely aware of what you do not have and how much it hurts.  

So blame it on the tears, or the mind-muddling melodrama of your relationship with your mother, blame it on anything but the truth—when your thumb drops on that call button like the plunger on a syringe, you don’t regret it.  

What you’re not expecting is for him to answer after the first ring. 

“Hi,” you say with a snuffle before Spencer can get a word in. There’s a brief interlude, in which you pick at your nails, comfortable to just sit in silence if that’s what he wants. As long as he’s there. 

“Hi.” Hearing his voice instantly melts a bit of the weight you hadn’t realized you were carrying. Another pause, for which you remain silent, because you can feel him formulating a question—and you’d like to hear him speak again. “...am I allowed to ask if you’re okay?” 

Your lips purse and twist to the side, pained and comforted by how easily he can tell that you’re distraught. One word across a tinny connection, and he knows. 

“No. Yes. I mean... I guess that’s why I called you. But you don’t have to ask me about it.” You sniff again and take a deep breath. “How was your day? What state are you in?” 

“I’m in the district,” he answers after a moment, easing into a casualness that he likely doesn’t feel for your sake. Wind crunches through the speaker. He probably just got out of work. “My day was... it was good. I got to talk about my job to a bunch of elementary schoolers, which is always a confidence boost.” 

You chuckle, still laying on your side on the couch and watching storm clouds gathering outside. 

“Nice, nice. What else?” 

“Let’s see... I forgot lunch, so I had three oranges, and they were actually pretty good. I reread Game of Thrones—I don’t know why I did that. I’m never going to like that book.” 

“Masochist,” you smile. He laughs, and you hear the sound of a car door opening. 

“Oh! I talked to my mom. Believe it or not, she says hi.” 

A completely inadvertent snort constitutes your response. It’s not what you meant to do, and out of context it’s sort of mean, but you actually think it’s incredibly endearing that he still talks to his mother about you. He scrambles to explain himself. 

“I swear, we barely talked about you this time. Mostly we talked about her new boyfriend Leonard.” 

“No, no, that’s not... I’m sorry, I’m not laughing at you or your mom. That’s really sweet, actually. Tell her I say hi too.” 

When he next speaks, you can hear the smile in his voice. 

“I will.” Another long pause. You imagine him sitting in the parking lot at Quantico, keys vertical in the ignition of his old car and feeling the silence just as much as you are. He surprises you by not ending the conversation—instead he asks a question. It is concern, poorly disguised with nervous humor. Or maybe you just know him too well. “Do I get to find out what’s on your mind, or are you leaving me in suspense here?”  

You bite the inside of your cheek. 

“Um... well, actually, I just got off the phone with my mom, too. It didn’t go so well,” you laugh halfheartedly, “I know it was dumb to try and have an actual conversation with her, but... you know me. Always following blind optimism to the depths of hell.” 

“Why’d you call your mom?” he asks, so gently it brings a fresh round of tears to your eyes. Still, you attempt to put a cheerful affect on your strained voice. 

“Mm, you know. Just needed someone to talk to.” 

Spencer’s knowing sigh does little to make you feel better. 

“You know you can always talk to me, right? I know it’s... it’s different now, but... I care about you a lot. And, you know, I receive very few phone calls, so the line is pretty much always open.” 

Your laugh quickly devolves into a cry. 

“I appreciate that, but I can’t talk to you about everything.” 

“Why not?” he pleads immediately, voice thin and desperate like it’s his most burning question. A million lies dance over the tip of your tongue. A million things that feel safer to say than the truth. But in the end, it comes out anyway—choked, and so quiet, but aloud nonetheless. 

“Because I’m trying really hard to stop missing you so much.” 

Another long beat of silence. The back of your throat feels dry and hollow—a cage for your hummingbird heart. 

“If it hurts too much to talk to me, you don’t need to do that to yourself. But I also don’t want you to hurt yourself thinking you’re alone. You are... so important to me. I will always try to take care of you the best I can—whether that means staying away or being at your front door. If you ever need me, or even... vaguely want me, I will be there.” 

Each word caves your resolve. Each syllable is a slap in the face to progress you’d been pretending to make. You can be strong—you've proven that over the past ten weeks. You can be stone-faced and slash at your heart until the scar tissue is thick and jagged, and eventually it won’t hurt anymore. But maybe, by letting someone tend to the wounds, they’ll heal a little nicer. A little kinder. Even if you can’t undo the damage, maybe one day you’ll be soft again. 

“What if I vaguely want you right now?” you sniffle. 

Finally, you hear the silver jingle of keys turning. The sputter and rumble of an old engine coming to life. 

“Then I’m on my way.” 

Twenty four minutes later, there’s a soft knock at your door.  

After the call had ended, you’d wondered if you made it all up. Surely your ex-boyfriend wasn’t actually about to show up at your apartment. Someone you’ve grieved for can’t just come back—there are countless horror novels and movies based upon that very tenet. Does it matter if they ever actually died? How long is ten weeks, really? It feels like a lifetime. 

You shuffle across the room, wiping under your eyes with your already damp sleeves, and undoing all the locks Spencer had conditioned you to start using. When the door cracks open, and you see Spencer standing there, windswept and concerned, for the first time in months, it hits you like a tidal wave. You are, beyond a shadow of a doubt, still just as in love with him as you ever were. The relief that floods your veins as he looks down at you with so much care in his eyes is like sinking into warm water. It’s a dead giveaway, and maybe it makes this whole thing a terrible idea, but you can’t seem to care very much. You open the door wider, and he enters, and he stands in your kitchen with his hands in his coat pocket as you shut the door and he’s perfect. It dawns on you that for the first time since the breakup, you feel safe. Like you don’t have to be a stone pillar anymore. This, of course, translates into even more tears, which you try to hide as you face away, re-locking the door.  

“Sweetheart...” he sighs, because you can’t hide anything from him. Hearing the resonance of his voice so close to you once more is overwhelming. In an instant you’re rushing into his arms, and he accepts you without hesitation. You bury your teary face in the vetiver safety of his button-up and slip your arms under his coat, as if you could absorb his warmth and forever hide from the world that way. He pulls you even closer. It’s terrible and cruel how much he is exactly what you needed. “What’s wrong? What did she say?” 

You shake your head and gasp a small sob. 

Truthfully, you’re not really crying about the petty insults from your mother anymore. You’re back to square one, the reason you’d called your mother to begin with—you miss the man whose arms are currently wound around your shoulders. 

His hand smooths over the back of your hair. 

“Okay. That’s okay. We don’t have to talk about it.” 

You stay like that—content even as you cry because being with him feels so much safer than being alone. It feels right—or perhaps it’s just familiar. You don’t know which is worse.  

Spencer is rubbing soothing lines up and down your back as you cling to him, soaking him up in all his ephemeral, comforting glory. He surprises you by chuckling—it vibrates through his chest, buzzing against your ear. 

“Nice Magritte print. I bet the person who bought that has fantastic taste.” 

“Are you gonna ask for it back?” you mumble into the fabric of his suit jacket. He is, of course, referring to the painting you’d more or less stolen from his apartment seven months ago. You really don’t want him to take it home. It’s the most overt Spencer memorabilia you’d allowed yourself to keep in plain sight. 

“No, baby. You can keep it.” The words are low, and kind, and they settle you some, but you can’t seem to get him close enough. “What can I do?” he whispers after a moment, helpless as you take a shuddering breath. “Can I make you tea? Have you eaten?” 

“Will you just... stay for a little bit? I’ll—I promise I’ll stop crying.” 

There is an unexpected lull where you thought you’d receive pretty immediate agreement, but before you can pull back and ask what’s wrong, he murmurs, “yeah. I can stay for a while. But you have to kick me out before it gets too late.” 

You wonder if you’re imagining the double-entendre that seems to underline his words in bold red ink. Spencer is too smart to have not noticed a thing like that. You don’t mention it—it all boils down to the same unspoken idea. 

Don’t let me stay, because I might not leave. 

“I will,” you sniff, finally stepping back and wiping your own tears. It hurts to lose his touch, but at least you know he’s not going anywhere for the next few hours. This, as opposed to everything else lately, can be a beginning instead of an end.  

At least, until he goes home. 

Three and a half hours later, after tea, an impromptu dinner comprised mostly of cheese and crackers, and several vinyl changes on your record player (which served only as background noise for your long, ambling conversations), things are seeming to wind down to a natural stopping point. Which you hate. The whole time you’d had a dull ache in your chest because talking to him was easier than breathing and you knew it wouldn’t last. There had been one or two false bottoms already—the first when you’d yawned around nine, and the second when you’d gotten up to do your skincare and brush your teeth half an hour later. Even then he’d just leaned against the doorframe, watching your reflection above the sink as you talked for fifteen more minutes. Now you stand across from each other in the kitchen, plates restacked and everything in order. Of course he’d insisted on helping you clean up. 

“I should go,” he says, with a soft sort of finality in his voice.  

“Is your carriage turning into a pumpkin?” you tease gently, to hide how much you don’t want him to leave. He smiles—a small, weary thing—but genuinely and endlessly charmed by you. 

“That among other things.” 

“Would you—would you walk me to my room first?” 

The hesitance is clear in his eyes and the way his lips part as if to say, ‘I don’t think that’s a good idea’, but you're sure he’s really going to leave in a moment and you’re also sure he won’t deny you this one small thing before he does. 

“Okay.” 

It’s a short, silent walk through the living room and down the hall to your bedroom door, but you can feel him trailing behind you the whole way. You stop in front of your open door, turning face to face with him.  

“Thanks,” you murmur.  

His lips pull into a melancholy smile. 

“Anytime.” 

There’s nothing left to do but wrap your arms around each other once more, tuck yourself into the you-sized space between his head and shoulder and hold on for as long as he’ll let you. The hug lingers for longer than is wise. Spencer adjusts his arms looped around your waist, pulling you closer, and you nuzzle against his neck, grateful that at least he seems as reluctant to let this end as you are.  

But eventually, it relaxes. Your hold on each other loosens. His face is just inches from yours, and you get to study every plane and valley and line like you’d thought you never would again. It seems he’s doing the same—losing himself in the luxury of seeing you up close. 

“Will you kiss me goodnight?” you whisper, unable to muster any self-consciousness though you know it’s a fool’s errand. Spencer strokes your waist. 

“I can’t do that, honey.” 

“Why not?” 

His voice is just as quiet as yours. It falters slightly as he speaks, so gently, so patiently. 

“Because we’re not together anymore.” 

“Why not?” 

Your feeble, desperate supplication sounds pitiable even to you. You’re not proud, but you can’t find it in yourself to be ashamed, either. All you want is an answer. But it’s like a child asking why the sky is blue, or the earth is round. There is a definitive explanation, but mostly, the adult will shrug, and say, that’s just how it is. 

Spencer’s eyes squeeze shut. His head tilts down. 

“We can’t do this again, sweetheart. You know why we’re not together.” 

In theory—yes. You’d had so many conversations when you’d broken up. It had been a long, painful process, spanning multiple all-nighters at his kitchen table, nursing coffee and trying to convince each other and yourselves that it was the right choice. But it just feels like a horrible, horrible mistake. You feel desperate to explain this to him before he slips away again—the words come out flustered, inelegant as you cling to him.

“But I don’t think I’m getting better without you. I tried, I tried so hard to be good on my own, but everything is worse and harder and—and we weren’t sure about it then, and I don’t think it was the right choice, because I still really need you. Like, all the time. I’m—it’s not getting better without you. Nothing got better.” 

He swallows, eyes darting between yours for an infinite second. You’re breathless and your heart is pounding after your confession—you can feel your eyes stinging with the few tears that managed to escape as you spoke. 

“Everything is worse,” he agrees shakily. “Everything. I’m—I’m getting disciplinary infractions from Hotch like I’m a child because I can’t focus on anything. Game of Thrones is the most complex literature I can comprehend right now. I had to use a calculator the other day.” 

You want to laugh, but nothing is funny until he’s yours again. 

“Then come back. Please come back, Spencer.” 

Finally, he leans closer, until your heads are pressed together, and his nose bumps yours, feather light. You're dizzy. You exhale. He inhales. 

“I don’t think I knew how to leave in the first place.” 

When he kisses you, it feels like home. 

[papercorgiworld]

Boyfriend material

Reader is starting the new year in search of a little fun and a boyfriend. Pansy helps here pick the right outfit and guy.

For Blaise, Theo and Mattheo this will be a two part ‘porn with plot’ thing. This is part one and holds the plot. No Enzo part two, because apparently I can only write so much smut before my brain goes brrrr. Sorry.

I added a part 2 for Enzo!

Warning: reader has a little dirty make out daydream. Slytherin dudes have some naughty thoughts as well.

I had fun writing this. I really hope you like reading it. Kisses.

“New year, new me. I’m no longer a boring girl. I’m going to find myself a nice, good looking guy and get crazy with him.” You started as you sat down next to Hermoine. She laughed in response. “You don’t need a guy to have fun or to be cool.” But before you could say anything Pansy plopped down next to you. “Yes, you do, so who’s the lucky guy?” Hermoine rolled her eyes.

You looked around the great hall and settled on a handsome sixth year. “Him.” You tilted your face his way, subtly pointing. “Ew! No! Boring!” Pansy spat. “What’s wrong with that guy?” Hermoine asked, narrowing her eyes at Pansy. “You wanna be popular, you wanna have fun, you gotta date someone on top of the food chain.” Pansy said as a matter of fact and Hermoine mocked the last words of her sentence.

You ignored the tension completely and simply asked. “Who’s on top of the food chain?” Pansy looked around to search for a good example. “Aha!” She said pleased, when she saw who just walked in and grinned at the girls next to her. “Oh no.” Hermoine sighed as she saw a particular group of Slytherins enter the great hall. You simply pursed your lips at the idea. But you brought yourself back to reality. “How’s a gray mouse like me gonna date the top of the food chain?” Pansy simply wiggled her eyebrows and Hermoine was definitely worried now.

***

The next day you made your way to sit next to Hermoine in class. With your skirt short enough to make you question its purpose and your shirt tight and revealing, you now had all the guys paying attention. “What’s this?” Hermoine questioned, obviously referring to your outfit. “This. This is my battle-outfit. I’m conquering the top of the food chain.” You replied with confidence. Hermoine scoffed and raised an eyebrow. “Then why is the top of the food chain looking at you like you're their next meal.”

You quickly glanced around the classroom, getting a little nervous, you softly bit your lip. You want to defend your case to Hermoine, but accidentally drop your quill. As you reach for it, Enzo beats you to it. Handing it to you with a sweet smile, but also giving you a cheeky wink.

Theodore, who sits next to Enzo, shakes his head and huffs. “Don’t fall for it. Pansy’s clearly up to something.” Enzo smiles brightly at his friend. “Oh mate, I’ve already fallen. Badly, madly. And it’s okay, you can leave your fallen brother behind. He’s going to a better place, somewhere between her squishy thighs.” Mattheo who sits behind Theodore speaks up. “Oi, T. slap him for me, will ya?” And before Enzo even realizes what Mattheo said, Theo has already given him a light smack on the back of his head. Blaise bites his lip and comes to Enzo’s aid. “In his defense, look at those legs.” Slurring the last word and leaning closer to Mattheo, his eyes never leaving your body. Mattheo pushes his chair a little and leans back for a better view of what his friend is talking about. Mattheo is definitely seeing something he likes, his eyes scan your body. His tongue gently rolls over his lips and he swallows hard thinking about all the noises you would make if he could have his way with you. “Mister Zabini, mister Riddle, care to explain why you don’t have your books out yet.” Professor McGonnagol asks, looking down upon the boys. “Sorry professor.” Blaise immediately reaches for his book, while Mattheo only looks down at his desk like a pouty 5 year old that just got caught.

After class Theodore lets out a frustrated grown as you walk past them in the hallway. You did nothing aside from sitting there and being pretty, yet you had him fantasizing about things that made him loosen his tie halfway during class. “I should’ve skipped class. I wrote down less than when I’m not in class.” Enzo looked confused at Theo’s statement, questioning his logic. Mattheo was about to say something, but Blaise interrupted him. “That simp! Look at him.” Blaise pointed at Draco shamelessly leaning against a wall trying to casually make conversation with you as Pansy tries not to laugh at Draco’s desperation. “No backbone, those Malfoy’s.” Mattheo scoffs. “Yeaah.” Blaise affirms absentmindedly, staring at you as you smile at Draco. Such a beautiful smile, but I bet that mouth can do more than just smile. Blaise was smirking as his thoughts got less innocent with each passing second. “We should save the poor girl.” Enzo states, pulling Blaise out his trance. “Yeah.” Blaise and Enzo quickly make their way over to you. Making Pansy grin at Mattheo and Theodore. Raising her eyebrows as a way of non-verbally taunting them: are you two really gonna just stand there with your pathetic male pride. “Tell me you have smokes. I need one.” Mattheo sighs in frustration after he finally managed to pull his eyes away from you. Theo nods. “Girls and their games. They’ll be the death of me.” Theo can’t help but take one last look at you.

***

“Pans, I really don’t think this is a good idea. Hermoine’s right I’m attracting the wrong kind of guys.” Pansy eyes roll up in annoyance. That bloody Granger-girl can squeeze the fun out of everything. “You can set them straight. Believe me, if you bat your eyes they will start behaving.” You make a face disagreeing with her. “I’m looking for fun, yeah, but I’m also looking for boyfriend material, they’re not that.” Pansy huffs. “You know nothing.” You frown in confusion. “Just play my game. You’ll get what you want.” Pansy starts walking again, but then turns on her heels looking at you still confused. “You are gonna have to pick one, preferably by tonight. I would hate to see the Slytherin boy band break up, because I really don’t think they can share.” You bite your lip softly and your mind wonders.

If Pansy was really speaking the truth and you could just have your pick. Which one? Him. If he would push you against this cold hallway wall right now you would immediately spread your legs so he could lift you up. Your neck and your jaw would be peppered with his soft kisses. You would wrap your legs around him and he would buck his hips into yours. Your mouth would fall open slightly because of all the sensations building up between your legs. He would mercilessly attack your mouth and his hands would explore every inch of your body. Squeezing your butt, making you instinctively rub your core against his growing bulge. He would cup your breasts, his thumb caressing your nipple through the fabric. “Everything alright?” Luna snaps you out of your wonderful train of thoughts. You look at her sheepishly. “Yeah. I better get going. Class, and stuff.” You push your thighs together, before fully letting go of your daydream. “I have those moments too you know, when I forget about reality.” Luna comforts you as you both walk to class. “Uhu” Is all you manage to say, not really knowing what to think.

If Blaise is you’re guy: part 2

***

“Your party outfit is a shirt?” Hermoine asks, not hiding her judgment. “It’s an oversized shirt, which makes it a dress. It’s fashion, Granger, get over it.” Pansy snaps. “You’re corrupting my friend.” Hermoine hisses at Pansy. “Oh, darling. I’m not corrupting. But some guy might.” Pansy winks, Hermoine’s mouth falls open and you stand there sheepishly looking at your feet. “I’m wearing shorts under this dress. So it’s really not that bad.” You finally manage to say. “Alright, let’s party.” Pansy says and she’s the first to walk through the doors of the room of requirement.

For Mattheo: part 2

For Theodore: part 2

For Lorenzo: part 2

[irisintheafterglow]

hi!!! could i request pro hero!bakugo & pro hero!reader where bkgs doing an interview and they ask about relationships and his answer is “I thought you people already knew that im married”

i have no idea how to word things but i hope that was readable🙏🙏

keeping it in the family

wc: 1.6k

cw/tags: swearing, mentions of drinking and alcohol, established relationship, dialogue-driven

note: RAHHH I LOVE HUSBAND BAKUGO. anyways !!! i hope you like this, i did get a little carried away when writing it so hopefully it makes sense. thank you for your ask!!!

likes, reblogs, and replies are always appreciated <3

“And we’re on in five, four, three, two…give ‘em hell.” The roar of excited applause jumbles together with the late-night show’s opening theme and the screams of excited fans can still be heard even as Kirishima flashes a blinding smile to the camera. 

“Good evening, everyone, and welcome to Heroes on Heroes! We’re so glad you’re joining us tonight, seeing as this is the finale of season one!” The audience cheers with fiery passion and it makes the three heroes onstage chuckle nervously. This was going to be a long night, especially if the superfans were crying after every word they spoke. “I’m Red Riot,” he pauses while the cheering erupts once again, “and I’m joined by my fellow pros, Chargebolt and Dynamight.” You wince from your place at sidestage from the sheer wave of noise that slams into your eardrums when the latter is introduced. 

“Thanks for having us tonight, man,” Denki grins. He eagerly drums the armrests of his chair, to the left of Kirishima. “I’ve been looking forward to doing one of these since I saw Deku’s a few weeks back.” 

“It’s a great concept, really. I love being able to just chat with you guys and shoot the shit about hero stuff. It’s so manly.” Kirishima turns expectantly to the other hero sitting to his right, whose hot-headed nature was blatantly obvious by how he was slumped in his chair, squinting slightly at the burning spotlights and clicking cameras. You admire Kirishima’s confidence in forcing Katsuki to say something. “What about you, Bakugo? How’re you feeling tonight?” 

“I’m alright,” he shrugs indifferently. Your breath catches in your throat and you can hear the Dynamight agency’s publicist put his head in his hands. “It’s been a while, so it’s good to see you guys,” he adds with unexpected fondness and you exhale in relief. His eyes meet yours for half a second and he shoots you a wink that makes your knees wobbly. “I saw that save at the bridge collapse last week, Shitty Hair. Pretty decent work.” Kirishima blinks once, twice, and then glances at Denki. Katuski’s blank look narrows into a scowl. “The hell are you looking like that for? I got shit in my teeth or something?”

“No, no. Sorry, man,” Kirishima laughs. “I just wasn’t expecting a compliment from you so early in the show.”

“Yeah, we thought we’d have to booze you up a little more to get you to be nicer,” Denki jokes and he recoils a bit when he’s struck with a molten hot glare from the hero across from him. 

“Whatever you’re about to say, bro, don’t say it,” Kirishima warns and the crackles in Katsuki’s palms gradually dissipate. “But, I’m wondering too. What’s with the good mood?” 

“I guess I feel like playing nice tonight,” he answers cryptically, his gaze flicking over to you again with amusement. You can almost sense the fainting girls falling over each other in the front row. Kirishima’s attention subtly darts over to you and a knowing smirk grows over his face. It was the first time you and Katsuki were at the same press event, since you both thought it was too dangerous to sneak around until now. “But, talk about that bridge save. I don’t think a lot of people know that the guy was wanted by several agencies.”

“Ooh, yeah,” Denki agrees with a quick sip of his drink. He swallows and sets the glass down with a light thud. “He’d been giving us hell for weeks. It's not really the best matchup for a sand villain to be going up against an electric hero.”

“It was the sand villain and his wife, wasn’t it? That chick with the melting Quirk?”

“Yep, they were a nasty couple to deal with,” Kirishima confirms. “I had to keep track of this guy’s damn sand spikes and his wife turning the floor to goop at the same time.”

“Goop is a weird-ass way to put it,” Katsuki points out with obvious distaste. 

“Yeah, but he was a pretty goopy guy.” Chuckles ripple through the audience and you can’t help breaking a smile too at Kirishima’s joke. 

“I think for me, at least,” Denki adds, “the biggest pain was the fact that they were married, and they had, like, marriage telepathy or something.”

“Bro, I thought that was just me! Here I was, thinking that I’d incapacitated one and split them from the other, when bam! Both of them appear in front of me like a damn genie.” 

“You ever have to deal with villain couples, Bakubro?”

“Nah, not recently. We’ve been doing a lot of big raids on all the crime families downtown.” He flexes his right bicep and pulls back the sleeve of his shirt to show a gnarly purple spot growing on his skin. “Got this little beauty three days ago from a neo-Hassaikai asshole.” You're not fazed by the ugly shade of the wound because you were the one who stitched up the...less visible results of the raid.

“Jeez, man,” Denki says in disbelieving awe at his friend’s injury. “If you ever need backup, we’d love to do a team up with you.” 

“I think I’d rather die–”

“My agency would also love to team-up with you,” Kirishima interjects before Katsuki can finish his thought. The heart rate monitor of his publicist begins to rapidly beep behind you. “We can have a threeway team-up! That’d be pretty cool, don’t you guys think?” 

“What if we all just merged into one big super agency? Like a big family?”

“That sounds like the stupidest shit–” Again, Kirishima cuts off Katsuki’s brash protests and saves them from being taken off the air.

"That would be so awesome."

“Would that mean we’d have to get pro-hero partners, too? Keep hero work in the family?”

“I think Salonpas would have heart palpitations if we said we were trying to keep hero work within the family,” Katsuki points out and his friends nod in agreement. “On another fuckin’ note, that Half-and-Half idiot keeps hogging the number two spot and it pisses me off.” Though you didn’t often encounter Todoroki while you were on patrol, you knew that he was adamant about keeping work life and family life separate. It made him even more of a dedicated hero and a recent bust of a notorious crime ring bumped him into the number two spot over Dynamight for that month. You didn’t hear the end of it from Katsuki. 

“He and Deku just work really efficiently, Bakubro.”

“I can efficiently slam both their skulls into a–”

“You know what would solve that problem?” Denki butts in unceremoniously, covering up his harsh words for a third time. Katsuki grunts in response and the lightning-decorated hero gives him enthusiastic finger-guns. “Combining and making a family agency.”

“What are the chances that Sero would want to join too?”

“Probably pretty high,” Kirishima guesses. “He’s at my place every other week, anyway, so he’s basically my brother.”

“Alright, maybe this could actually work, then. I just need to find a smoking hot hero wife.”

“That’ll probably be the hardest part, buddy–”

“What about Bakugo?” You stiffen and the three guys turn their attention to a voice calling out from the audience. Speaking during the interviews was strictly prohibited until the question and answer section, but getting Katsuki’s attention was a surefire way to derail the entire episode.

“The fuck do you mean, what about Bakugo? Who the fuck said that?”

"Dude, just ignore them."

“Can’t be a family agency if Bakugo never gets into relationships,” the same nasally, irritating voice argues and your face feels like it’s been set on fire. Kirishima’s attention jumps to you for a moment and then back to his friend, whose palms are starting to spark like fireworks. “Do you just get no bitches, or something?” The audience gasps and security finally arrives to escort the disturbance out of the building. The director is ready to stop the cameras and jump to a commercial break, but Katsuki speaks before he can order the sound crew to cut the mics. To everyone’s surprise, his voice is nothing but amusement, like the insinuation didn’t bother him in the slightest. 

“You think I don’t get into relationships?”

“Bakugo…”

“It’s alright, Pikachu. I really don’t give a shit about whatever that guy said,” Katsuki reassures his friend with a sly glint in his eye. His friends watch him warily, like a grenade on the verge of exploding. Once again, burning red eyes meet yours with a single question that you answer with a resolute nod. “I’m not gonna blow up, so stop looking like that. Really, I don’t care.”

“Why not?” A tense beat of silence passes, then–

“I thought you people knew that I’m married.” A shit-eating grin spreads across your husband’s face as gasps of shock burst from the audience. Kirishima and Denki both shake their heads in exasperation. They knew already, of course, but they didn’t expect him to reveal his relationship status as a result of a heckler. “Yep, going on a year and a half, now. Around five years together total coming this winter.” More collective cries of jealousy, surprise, and betrayal shake the building’s foundation. "If you don't believe me, ask these guys."

"Yeah, we were at the wedding, too. It's hard to keep it a secret when all of your friends are also high-profile heroes."

“Can you guys believe that he fell in love during the winter?” Denki’s thumb juts out toward his friend, who frowns at the mere mention of cold weather.

“I fucking hate the winter,” he grumbles. 

“We know, man,” Kirishima says sympathetically, unsuccessfully hiding a chuckle. “You’ve been saying that since high school.”

“Yeah, and shit hasn’t changed,” Katsuki bites back with lighthearted indignance. “Look, they saved my ass when it was cold; how was I not supposed to fall in love with them?” To your delight, his complexion has turned a slightly darker shade of pink. “Yeah, I love them. What about it, asshats?”

“Is this a bad time to bring up the family agency again?”

“Let’s go to commercial before I blow this fucking chair to pieces.”

if you enjoy my writing and would like to support me, you can buy me a coffee on my ko-fi! you can also check out my full masterlist here :)

[crystalflygeo]

Virgin-killer Sweater ft Zhongli + fem!reader

cw/tags: Riding, fingering, handjob, tit play, dirty talk, praise kink, teasing, inappropriate use (or is it?) of the virgin killer sweater//jk

notes: Hi hello I hope this breaks my dry spell happy 2024 I didn't expect to write this at all but @ainescribe (<3) tested my horny braincell by giving me this prompt and wHEW it got good

You blinked in surprise at the item that dropped out of the small plastic bag onto the bed as you were organizing the closet. Thick light blue wool greeting your eyes as you picked it and stared at it confused until it clicked. It was some stupid thing a friend had prank gifted you some years ago, you were surprised to find it bundled up in a corner after all these years a so-called ‘virgin-killer sweater’. It used to be all the rage, but you swore you could never wear something so… revealing, at all.

Yet you kept it.

You bite your lip and sneak a glance at the mirror.

You’re older now, your body a bit more… ahem… shapely. And enjoyed indulging in some sexy clothing once in a while, if only for the confidence boost and the look on your dear husband’s face.

Hm, what would he think of this? Your cheeks warm up a little, it’s so silly.

With a slow hum you stand up and shrug off your current lounge shirt, unclasping your bra and kicking off your shorts before sliding the wooly article over your head, shivering at how it feels over your bare skin. The material is thick and warm, soft yet admittedly a little ticklish.

“There is no way this is meant to be worn with nothing under…” You mumble blushing a little as you struggle to adjust it. The openings at the sides are impossibly deep and no matter how much you tug and pull at the bottom it either dips way too low on your lower back or reaches too high on your thighs.

Maybe it’s a little… short on you?

You stare at the mirror from different angles and twirl around, it’s fuzzy at the neck and front the front it looks kind of cute but everything is else is… well…

You huff a little embarrassed. Well, you suppose it could be nice if matched with another top, using it like a vest or something… maybe with a backless top or lace just so some of the skin still showed thro- 

The sound of the apartment opening caught you attention and immediately made you heart speed up.

“Darling, I’m home.”

Oh, no!

No no no no no no-

“J-Just a moment!” You scramble for your clothes while trying to take off the atrocious garment when you slip over some other clothes and items scattered around in your cleaning spree.

The loud thump and your following yelp coming from the room was surely enough to gather even the neighbor’s attention.

You hear quick footsteps and then Zhongli appears at the bedroom’s door, eyes wide in worry before stopping dead in his tracks.

Squealing you struggle between sitting up and trying to cover your crotch and your butt with the offending piece of clothing.

“T-This is not-! Wait! D-Don’t look!”

A flush spreads over your face as you try to curl up into a ball in embarrassment. Zhongli’s golden eyes study you for a few tense moments before he quickly reacts, coming to help you up.

“Are you hurt?”

“N-No, I’m fine…”

He regards your outfit with fascination and you shrink under the intense gaze. Zhongli is observant, he doesn’t merely stare, he evaluates… appraises things with those mesmerizing golden eyes.

“What is that?”

“A sweater… sort of.” You mumble, still uncomfortably pulling at the hem and the bottom and feeling it dip lower than intended at your butt, again. 

“It’s very unique.”

“it’s stupid.” You puff out mortified, picking up your shorts from the corner of the bed.

“Wait-” Zhongli’s hand stops yours and you feel goosebumps rise along your naked shoulders. “Let me see you, please…”

You gulp and feel your heart thump in your ears, buzzing with some sort of giddy nervous excitement.

You’re being ridiculous, it’s not like he hasn't seen you in less… or nothing at all.  

You push the thought away standing back a few steps, the deep cuts down the sides granting him a glorious peek of sideboob. You nervously fidget with the hems.

“I-I think it’s a little sma-”

“Let me see the back...”

Oh. That deep tender sound. It was not a demand but a plea, a hint of sensual hunger under the calm stillness of his voice, soft and humming like he does when he holds you close.

You turn and brush your hair out of the way, straightening up as you had in front of the mirror, showing off the low low cut at the back, the hem of your panties peeking through.

“it’s…” You start.

“Tantalizing…” He hums.

You can see his Adam’s apple bob and his eyes darken just so, and your lips part with a soft sound.

“You look gorgeous, my dear.”

Your skin breaks into goosebumps again. “I-It’s embarrassing.” You insist, yet any other complaint dies in your lips with a squeak as Zhongli’s palms runs over your exposed shoulder blades, large and warm, and you feel his breath on your ear, a soft sigh.

You whine when he drags his knuckles along your spine, savoring the dip and arch of your back, caressing the tender skin, tracing the edges of the fabric along the swell of your butt and dipping lower to fondle it.

“Zhongli…” You whimper breathlessly.

“Shh… I got you.” Zhongli soothes you with a low croon, nuzzling into the slope between your covered neck and onto your shoulder. The skin there is hot and he nibbles at it gently. “I could just eat you up.”  

“You could…” You mumble, the anticipation boils between your legs.

“I think I might.” He replies low, words heated at the shell of your ear before he nips there too, his hands sliding back up the smooth skin of your naked back, fingers teasing at the edges of your breasts before slipping under the knitted garment and cupping them. You gasp.

Your nipples are already hard, little peaks against the wool, so sensitive as they rub the soft material while Zhongli massages and plays with your chest. “Hnnng… ah!” slender fingers take one of the little buds between them, pinching and tweaking just enough that your back arches and your mouth opens in a silent moan.

“So, so beautiful…” He kisses the top of your spine, teasing there with his teeth.   

“S-Stop teasi-oh Oh!” A chill runs down your body as he unexpectedly licks a stripe along your back and then you hear him chuckle against your skin, it makes your heart jump.

His hands never stop caressing your breasts, and he cups both before giving them a squeeze. Zhongli tilts forward pressing against you and you can feel a certain hardness against your ass. “Does it feel good?”

“Yes… feels good- hah.” You pant, eyes fluttering closed. “Mmm… Li… more please.”

Oh, how he loves seeing you like this, face flushed and eyes half lidded in bliss. He rubs his thumb against your pebbled nipple and then pinches it again making you gasp and squirm. Your hips buck and rub back unconsciously, seeking fiction.

“Come here.” He kisses your cheek and sits at the edge of the bed, gently stringing you along. “Take off your panties, let me help you darling.” His hands roam your thighs and pull the hem of the sweater just a little, hunching it at your hips. You’re too horny to care at this point and brace your hands on Zhongli’s broad shoulders as he slips your underwear down your knees, you gingerly step out of them and sink into his lap with practiced ease.

Your lips meet in a kiss as you circle his neck with your arms, immediately licking into his mouth and moaning as he adjusts your position, cupping your ass and accompanying the soft sway of your hips as you grind against his bulge. Zhongli groans on your mouth.

The slight coldness in your naked back makes for such a contrast against the hot wetness between your legs, the sweater’s fabric rubbing on your chest as you move, further stimulating as he continues to devour you, just as he said.

His hands move to your thighs, tracing patterns that have your legs quaking and tensing before his fingers dips lower below the cotton and brush your heated pussy. You break the kiss with a mewl.

“Ah… f-fuck… wait-”

He traces those sinful fingers along your folds, poking and prodding, smearing your wetness and finding your entrance. You kiss him fiercely again, combing your fingers on his hair pulling him closer and tilting your head.

It’s needy, it’s desperate, it’s…       

He sinks the tips of his fingers inside you and you muffle another sound, shifting and grinding on his lap again. He works you open slowly, sinful fingers following the pace of your kiss becoming more and more daring. Oh, his pants have to go. Now.

Fumbling hands work his belt open and struggle for a few moments with his pants, enough so two of his fingers sink down to the knuckle. You whine and he chuckles, both gasping as your lips separate again.

“Let me- fuck, please-” You paw at Zhongli’s crotch incessantly, worked up. Finally, that perfect thick cock springs free, leaking slightly at the tip and gods your mouth waters.

“So impatient.” He grunts as you trace a finger along his length, thumb rubbing at the tip collecting the bead of precum there and wiping it on your tongue before you can even think, the musky tart taste makes you burn with want.

You notice how his length is trapped between your bodies, pressed against your navel and rubbing on the dumb sweater… and a wicked idea comes to mind. You smirk.

You wrap your hand around Zhongli’s cock, pumping slowly and firmly, and once you feel him resume the movement of his fingers inside you, you start canting your hips again, purposefully making it so the thick wool of your attire strokes against his sensitive shaft, adding another layer of stimulation.

“You- hah…” His words dissolve into a moan as you bite your lip and try to keep up the pace, it’s clumsy but the sounds you pull from him and the way his fingers stretch and pump you is so delicious, feels so good…

In no time your breath quickens. You pump your hand faster. More and more. Hot, so hot, so good. Your eyes fluttering shut, concentrating on the feelings. Your mind slow and hazy, just chasing that delicious pleasure. Only you two exist at this moment.

“Li, I’m… I-I’m…”

His thumb brushes against your clit and you come undone with a sharp cry, a quick and hard orgasm wracking your body and you keen and cry out, vision going blank.

His cock throbs in your palm, hot and hard and you gulp, moving a little sluggish to rise on trembling knees “More please, want you, need you…” You whisper and pull the sweater up to your waist. He helps you get it out of the way and then sink down on him, inch by inch filling you way more than his fingers did.

He hums and tips his head forward to rest his forehead against yours, basking in the closeness for a moment. “Are you ready?” Your eyes meet and you nod.

He leans down to kiss as his hands slide to your hips for support. You love the way Zhongli kisses you when he’s inside you. He tastes like sweet decadent tea, like hunger, passionate, unyielding, insatiable hunger.

He lets out a low growl as you lift and drop your hips against him, that thick cock molding your insides and rubbing all the right spots. You feel his fingers tightening their grip around you as you pick up the pace, grabbing his shoulders for support as you ride him. Your kiss dissolving to fleeting pecks as you pant and moan against each other’s lips.

His hips move under you, matching your rhythm as he rolls them in time with your hips. Heavy lidded eyes take in your figure writhing on his lap before he leans forward with a wicked thought of getting even at you and he takes one of your nipples into his mouth, wetting the fabric as he mouths and sucks at the little peak. You let out a high-pitched whine and claw at his back.

“So close, so close, please please please…” You babble as that sweet climax builds closer and closer.

Your thighs quiver and Zhongli takes over, planting his feet on the ground and beginning to thrust in earnestly. You sob and arch your back, clinging to his shoulders as he slams into you chasing his pleasure.

“So beautiful… your little sounds… your skin…” He hisses, his breath coming in hard gasps. “Come for me. Come, come, come, come-”

You arch your back and keen as your orgasm washes over you, shuddering on his hold as it drags this time. You feel a pulse and then a flood of sticky warmth inside you as he cums, groaning low and resting his head against the valley between your breasts. Your body melts against his as you both rest there, catching your breaths.

You nuzzle at his hair as you come down from your high, pressing a fond kiss to the top of his head. In turn, his arms surround you and hug you closer, sighing into your chest with contentment.

“Hm… want to accompany me for a shower, my love?” He asks as you pull back a little to stare at him, his hands cup your face.

You test your legs as you try to stand up but your knees wobble and there’s a tingling feeling still simmering on your skin. “You’ll have to carry me.” You decide, plopping back on his lap.

He chuckles, deep and precious as he kisses your nose. “Anything for you.”

“Hmm, you know Li… I think I’ll keep it.” You smile mischievously as your hand brushes the wool at your neck.

[neowinestainedress]

SECRET — lee jeno

𝐓𝐈𝐓𝐋𝐄: secret

𝐏𝐀𝐈𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆: lee jeno x fem!reader

𝐆𝐄𝐍𝐑𝐄: smut, fluff (at the end), established relationship, kink discovery, relationship development

𝐒𝐔𝐌𝐌𝐀𝐑𝐘: jeno has a secret he can’t tell anybody, not even you.

𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆: sub!jeno, dom!reader (it’s their first time reversing roles so they’re both exploring how it feels like), implied masturb*tion, n!pple play, kinda hand-free org*sm/coming untouched, an*l fingering, riding, overstimulation, praise kink, minor degradation, size kink (but reversed??? reader is not bigger than jeno but somehow jeno feels small and likes to feel like that), ch*king, names used for jeno (baby boy, good boy, pup/puppy, pretty boy), names used for reader (ma’am, miss, mommy), big d!ck jeno, there’s nothing wrong with being a sub but jeno has issues because he has to always be strong so it doesn’t feel right for him, count the times I say ‘please’ in this (not my fault jeno is the bestest boy ever), aftercare (and kink discussion)

𝐖𝐂: 10.202k

𝐀/𝐍: a gift for my love @yellowgirllsblog, I converted her to subjenoism so I’m on a mission to let more of you see the light of the day and appreciate sub!jeno more. ps: you will never catch me call twitter ‘x.’ enjoy and if you do, please reblog and leave feedback! love u!

Jeno has a secret.

Once you’ll find out what it is, it won’t seem a big deal, but to him, it is.

It’s so big, so stressful, and so shameful, he can’t even talk to you — his sweet, loving girlfriend — about it.

It’s stupid, really. Deep down Jeno is well aware of how dumb it all sounds, but every time he faces it, it looks like a big mountain he can’t climb — and that will probably crumble on top of him, smashing him on the ground.

Stupid or not, big or small, it haunts him every day. Yes, every day. At first, Jeno thought it was just a temporary thing, something that piqued at his curiosity for fun, but soon enough, he fell down the rabbit hole. Looking back at it now, he probably was buried deep in the rabbit hole since forever but he —and the perception others had of him— did a good job at polishing the place real nice and don’t make him realize where he was.

Jeno accepted he is far gone a while ago, but he still can’t wrap his head around it. How is that possible? How could he, out of all the people, like something like this, be like this.

And that’s why he keeps it to himself, praying that if he doesn’t act on it, if he pushes it out of his mind, it will just leave. He’s strong, and fit, and he pounds into you every night, giving it to you like you want it. He can’t be anything else other than this, nothing but a confident, strong man that can’t be vulnerable.

But it turns out that pushing it out of his mind is not as easy as it seems. Jeno might be weaker than he realizes when he keeps going back at it, sipping on it at small doses, almost as if whatever he is holding in it’s a drug he doesn’t want to get addicted to — not knowing he already is. But for now — and forever, he thinks — this is just a fantasy, he can’t get addicted to something that is not real, to a version of him, no matter how authentic it feels, that can’t come out. But he slips further every day, hiding in your shared bedroom with his laptop or phone when you’re at work and he can have a bit of time to himself, when he stares at the box with your toys and lets time pass by because he doesn’t dare to do the next step, and lastly when he fucks his fist with your used panties and calls your name… or well, how he wishes he could call you.

And then clarity hits him again, making him groan as he rushes to the bathroom on wobbly legs, throwing your stained panties inside and starting the washing machine while he questions himself; why? He feels pathetic; masturbating over you as if he needs to fantasize about you, as if he doesn’t have you every night, and every day, and yet, it’s still not enough, it’s not how he wants you. But he feels guilty, he feels like he won’t be enough if he confessed to you, if he let you know his secret. And most of all, he’s terrified he’ll lose you. This version of him is not the one you picked, is not the one you love. And he’d damn himself forever if he lost you for something so silly.

So, he sighs, takes a deep breath, and then exhales deeply, rubbing his teary eyes before pushing his tired body up from the wall to walk back to your bedroom and fix himself.

Jeno has a secret, and he will take it to his grave.

Your boyfriend has been acting strange for a while now. At first, you figured he was stressed because of work, but now, you don’t think that’s the only reason.

Your brain goes crazy, imagining the worst-case scenario, the top one: he wants to break up with you. So, you start acting strange, too. Panicking, over-analyzing everything, and mostly, bracing yourself for the worst. Every time he starts talking to you with a serious tone, you fear that those words will come out of his lips, especially when before starting the conversation he stares at you for minutes and thinks so loudly you can almost hear his thoughts.

But the worst never comes, this goes on for weeks, and even if your boyfriend does act strange, nothing of his weirdness leads to a breakup, literally nothing can make it plausible, and even your brain gives up keeping you up at night with the fear of you losing him.

Jeno has never been so touchy. His hands are always on your body, any excuse is valid to let his fingers wander on your skin; if he needs to help you pick up something, if he needs to reach for the remote, if he has to leave for work, anything as long as he gets to feel your warm body.

And that doesn’t shock you much, Jeno has always made it clear how much he finds you attractive and how obsessed and in love he is with you and your body, but well, not like this. His fingers seem almost fearful, and so are his lips when he kisses you, and even something about his eyes doesn’t seem quite right. And then there are those unsaid words that you can see pending from his lips, and yet, they never come out. Every phrase Jeno starts is followed by a stutter and a quick shake of the head, other times his cheeks turn bright red as he zones out and you have to shake him out of whatever he is thinking, and then he goes back to act though and shrug it all off as if nothing happened.

You don’t get it, and every time you try to ask if something’s wrong, he acts surprised and tells you everything’s alright. You don’t buy it, but you feel that if something’s annoying him, he will come talk to you when he’s ready, so you leave him alone.

Jeno has a secret, and you have to find out in a way you don’t like.

You don’t like to roam around and stick your nose in things that aren’t yours, honestly, you hate doing so because you would hate if somebody did that with your things.

But you’re bored, laying on your bed, waiting for Jeno to come out of the shower, and your phone is somewhere in the living room, and you’re bored.

Picking up his phone to play some games is not an invasion of privacy, it’s the only thing you do with his phone, and Jeno is fine with it — he even lets you download those ugly, ads-filled, games that pop up in ads of other annoying games, he doesn’t get them, he hates the graphic of most of them, and he doesn’t understand how you can survive so many ads, but it’s fine, anything that makes you happy because you saved the King from drowning, cleaned a hotel room or built a pretty land.   

You would’ve minded your business if it wasn’t for one of those stupid games and ads, causing the app to crash and make you huff.

You’re pissed as you click the left bottom on the bottom of his screen to see all the apps and go back to your game, hoping it won’t die again, you’re so caught up that you almost miss the other window of Twitter and some other apps he used before.

But well, what you see is too shocking to make you go back to the business of your hotel.

You freeze, and a lump forms in your throat as you blink speechless with your mouth wide open. You feel the world could collapse under your feet but then you shake your head.

Dumb asshole, it’s fine. He might be bisexual, he’s not using you as a beard, right?

But you still stare at the video in shock, the only focus is on the naked man with a choker, moaning while the vibrator edges him, and the playful touches on his nipples make his hips rut.

And when Jeno comes out of the shower you’re still dumbfounded. Your eyes look up, and his smile drops as soon as he sees your face, it looks as if you saw a ghost, and he fears something has happened to you, but he barely manages to let out ‘are you ok?’ before you stop him.

“Are you gay?” You ask, nothing of the more rational questions you came up with before passing your lips.

He giggles nervously, eyes skimming you. “What?

You feel a lump in your throat and then reply. “What is this?” you lift the phone, video playing on mute, you can’t bear to hear the moans again. “Why are you watching porn and why are you watching porn focused on men? If you want to try something out you can tell me, but please, tell me I’m not your bearding girlfriend and this wasn’t all a lie.”

“A lie?” Jeno screams, feeling his heart pump hard in his chest. “It’s not and I’m not gay, I might be bi, but I never wanted to question much about it but... Wait, would it make you love me less?”

“No, God, no, but I don’t understand this,” you squeak, voice breaking a bit for the confusion you feel and also because his face dropped even more.

“It’s nothing,” Jeno says, abruptly taking the phone from your hand and closing the tab. His hands are shaking, he can’t believe he’s so fucking stupid, how could he not think about it? He always makes sure to close everything so that you can’t find out.

“Nothing?” You ask, eyes wide and a bit of sarcasm in your tone. “Why are you watching that kind of video...”

“I — I... It’s just something dumb the boys sent me,” he justifies, scratching his neck, but his eyes are everywhere except on yours.

You would believe him if only he wasn’t so evasive with his answers and body language, he’s a nerve wreck, he has to be hiding something. “Is it? Why would they do it?”

“I don’t know, you know they’re dumb,” he says and then pauses, biting his lips nervously before he gathers the courage to speak. “Did you watch it?”

You furrow, mumbling for a few seconds before replying as if it was obvious. “Yes.”

“All?”

“Yes, it’s not that long,” you reply without getting where he wants to go with these questions.  

Jeno nods and bites his lips, strategically avoiding your gaze.

“Jeno...” You call and he hesitantly raises his face. “Are you sure you’re not lying to me? If you like men and only them it’s fine, I would be heartbroken, but I want you to be happy, and I —”

“Stop it! It’s not that,” he snaps, face burning red when your eyes meet and you’re looking at him with curiosity. He feels doomed, you don’t even get it so how can you be into it?

“Oh.” You gasp. “Oh.” It clicks. Your mind replays the video, catching the details you missed, and you get it. He wants those things to be done to him. He doesn’t want a man; he wants you to do that to him.

Jeno stills, fearing the worst from you. “I’m not into it, that video just came up and I was curious,” he tries to save himself but it’s too late.

“No,” you stop him, “you are into it. Don’t lie to me,” your tone drops a bit, and you study his reaction, he trembles, and his face reddens even more. You’ve never seen him so embarrassed and vulnerable in all those years you’ve dated. Jeno, Lee Jeno, blushing bright red and stammering on his words right in front of your eyes. You’re dreaming, that must be it, maybe you have a fantasy you’re not aware of yet and this is your brain poking the thought into you.

But you shake your head, rub your eyes, and he’s still there.

“Jeno?” You call his name again when he gives you his back, quickly trying to find his clothes and make this less embarrassing, considering the only thing covering him is the white towel he put on before. “Look at me,” your voice comes out stern when he doesn’t listen to you and with a big step forward you have him trapped against the wall. Your fingers reach his chin, lifting his face resolutely.

But Jeno still doesn’t reply; you see his Adam’s apple move in his neck and you feel his breath get discontinued, but nothing comes from his mouth.

You have two choices; play the game he wants you to play or have a serious conversation about this. You’d rather go for the last one, you’re not so sure you’d be a master at doing what he wants you to do, but it seems like there’s no room for a decent talk right now.

You cup his chin, squeezing it enough that his lips pout, something he always does to you. His eyes widen, and his hand immediately wraps around your wrist, yet he doesn’t try to push you away.

“Tell me, Nono,” you coo, voice low and teasing, “do you want to be teased like that?”

He shakes his head, quick movements causing some still damp strands of hair to fall on his eyes, “No, no, I don’t.”

You scoff, shaking your head before leaning closer. “Why are you lying to me?”

He mumbles, struggling to talk for the embarrassment and the hold you have on his face. “I’m not,” he cries out.

“Oh, really?” You ask, letting his face go, making him lose his balance now that he can’t hold onto you. “Then you have nothing to hide, right?” He nods, biting his thumb and looking at you like a dog with his tail between his legs. “So, I guess you won’t mind if I took your phone right now, right?”

His eyes widen and his thumb falls from his lips. “Bu-but wh-why?”

You burst out laughing, holding your stomach in an exaggerated mocking move. “Bu-but wh-why?” you taunt him, imitating his high-pitched trembling voice. “Phone, now.”

Jeno’s not sure how to feel. This is what he wanted, right? And you don’t seem… mad. So why does he feel so embarrassed as he grabs the phone and hands it to you?

You smile and then open Twitter. You notice he has two accounts and when you scroll through the likes, the retweets, and more, you’re speechless. Well, now that you have him in front of you, so pliant, shaking, and red in the face, it’s not surprising anymore, but the Jeno you’re used to is not like this.

Men tied up and edged until they whimper and beg to come, rough face sitting, pegging videos, and captions about ‘good boys’ being used as sex toys by their ‘dominant mommy’, are all you see. You sigh and throw the phone on the bed carelessly.

“I’m sorry,” Jeno cries out, falling on his knees right in front of you. “I didn’t mean to disappoint you. I don’t need that, I swear I don’t, I can still be your usual boyfriend, I’ll fuck you so good, I promise I —”

You shut him up with a kiss, it’s rough and quick, enough to leave him surprised and, momentary, speechless. “Will you stop mumbling no-sense?”

“But I —”

“No, shh,” you say, thumb on his lips to keep him quiet. “Did I say anything? Did I look disappointed?” You ask, tilting your head to the side and he shakes his head. Honestly, he has no idea, he was too worried panicking to actually pay attention to your reaction. “Did I ask you to apologize? Do I look disgusted to you?”

“N-no,” he mumbles, but his eyes are still leaking tears.

“No, exactly,” you reassure. Your hand moves to the back of his neck, wrapping around the long hair at the nape before tugging and yanking his head back. “Now can we be serious and face this or do you want to keep crying at my feet?”

That shouldn’t make his dick twitch in the — now incredibly tight —towel but it does, still, he hopes you didn’t catch it, and nods swiftly.

“Good,” you smile slyly. You saw it, but that’s something you’re going to deal with later. “Stop lying and be honest with me. Do you want me to do this to you?” Your other hand moves down on his neck, creeping on his toned chest until it reaches his hard nipples, and when you brush one, he whimpers. Jeno tries to hide it, closing his eyes and pressing his lips together, but his body is reacting on its own, and it has never been more of an open book.

You never paid his body much attention, always letting him do anything to you, so this is… new, and interesting.

Your fingers play with the other one, rubbing against the sensitive tip and watching him struggle to keep it all in. “Sensitive much, aren’t you?”

He nods quickly, head falling down but you tug it back again, making him groan lowly.

“Head up,” you order, leaning down to come face to face, breath fanning against his, “and answer me. Do you like it when I play with your nipples?”

“Yeah — yeah, I like it,” he breathes out, leaning in to kiss your lips but you pull away.

“Ah, ah,” you click your tongue, shaking your head, “not yet, baby boy. You’ve been naughty, keeping important things from me. So now you’re going to earn it, alright?”

Jeno nods faster than he would want to, hips shaking on his heels in excitement like a dog wagging his tail.

You think it’s cute, he’s cute. And you still don’t quite know how to do this, how to be on the other side, but something inside of you makes you feel confident enough to think it’s worth giving a try. You like to be on the receiving end, so you have to give him what you usually like to receive. Also, you’ve encountered femdom content before, even liked it, never explored it much, but this might be fun.

“Words.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

You raise a brow at the title, but you like the way it rolls from his lips, and it makes your body react, pussy clenching around nothing and stomach twisting in anticipation.

“Good boy,” you reward him. You love being called a good girl, so you think he’s going to like that too, and he does. His smile grows bigger, cheeks tinting red again, and most importantly, his dick reacts, twitching against the towel.

You think it’s time to set it free, so your hand grabs the hem and pulls the white clothes off him. Jeno whimpers, hands quickly going to cover his hard, throbbing dick — well, trying to, it’s too big to hide anything.

You laugh at his lame attempt, slapping his hands away. “Getting shy now? I’ve seen it and felt it countless times, don’t you agree? Or, I don’t know, have you forgotten? Maybe your brain stops working when you’re… like this,” you finish with a teasing look from his head to his bent knees, rubbing against the hard floor and becoming red.

Jeno shivers, shaking his head, but for some reason, he feels even more embarrassed. He’s not used to being in this position, and all the times he imagined to be here, he didn’t think you would be like this. You’re not much shorter than him, but you are, and now you’re towering over him, your gaze is piercing through his soul, and your voice is sultry like it has never been. He wanted this so badly but even if he fantasized for months, now, he doubts he can take you.

You sigh, rolling your head. “How many times do I have to say it? Words.”

Jeno frowns momentarily, he knows you’re having a ball because usually, he wants you to talk back to him even if he’s fucking the fourth orgasm out of you. But his ‘anger’ doesn’t last. He nods, and then apologizes. “Sorry, I’m so sorry, ma’am. You can see it.”

“Of course, I can,” you say, kneeling to his eye level, “it’s mine.” Two of your fingers brush on his hard cock, tracing the thick vein that run on the side, the one that rub your sensitive walls so good when he’s pounding into you.

He nods quickly, swallowing hard to don’t moan shamelessly, and then stutters on his words. “You-yours. You can do — do whatever you want.”

You smile widely and tilt your head because it’s not a dominant smile. You might like this a lot. You might like this more than you anticipated. There’s something thrilling about having him like this, in your hands, to play with, to tease, to edge, to push to the limit. He’s yours, like always, and yet, in a way he has never been.

“Tell me what you want me to do?” You order, those videos are not enough to give you the green light. You need to hear it from him, a bit because you’re lost on your path, but also because you need to hear him describe those things out loud and beg you to do that to him.

Jeno thinks his face might burn up in a second. Sure, if he ever dared to bring this up to you in a conversation, he would’ve had to explain it to you, but he would’ve been dressed, not hard, and his brain would’ve been functioning. Now he’s none of these things. Yet, he tries.

“I — I want you,” he starts, wetting his lips. but he fails to find the words. You want explicit things, he knows it, he can see it in your eyes burning up with desire, but he wants to be honest first, at least now that he has a bit of rationality left. “I want to be your good boy. I want to — to just give up control for once and let you do everything. I want you to control me, to move me around, to make me feel light, to make me feel like I’m… nothing but not really nothing, I want to…” he gulps, forcing himself to keep eye contact because he wants to be good, but it’s not easy. Nothing happened yet, and he’s already a victim of the electricity that’s running in the air. “I want to don’t think. I want you to fuck my brain out until I forget who I am, I want you to tell me what to do, to order it to me. But I also want to feel safe… taken care of.”

It takes you a while to metabolize everything he told you, especially the last part, and you put a reminder in your brain to discuss that later. But now you kiss him, finally giving him what he craves. You wanted to make him wait a bit longer, but you feel like he needs it. It seems that all of this has been bothering him more than you think, and he needs comfort.

“And I’m going to give it to you, if you trust me,” you say when you pull away, softly caressing his cheek with your other hand.

“I do, I trust you,” he replies, hips rubbing against your hand. You give him a quick, stern look and he stops, smile dropping.

“Get on the bed and you won’t have to hump my hand like a puppy in heat,” you order and he’s quickly — stumbling and almost falling — on his feet, walking to the bed.

Once he’s laying on the bed, you follow him, crawling on top of him, your legs trapping him down. You leave kisses on his neck, and as a response his head rolls back, leaving you more room to paint his skin with bites and kisses. And while he’s distracted with that, your hands reach his nipples. His hips buck up and he whimpers.

He’s so sensitive, you can’t believe you didn’t discover this before.

Your fingers play with his sensitive buds, at first, you just rub your fingers on them, but then you get more adventurous studying his reaction. Jeno likes it when you pinch them between two fingers, it makes him hiss and moan, while his hips grind against you. He also likes it when you roll them, low curses escaping his tortured pink lips.

After a while, you decide to pay attention to his whole chest. You won’t lie, you always loved his tits, but you appreciated them from afar, when they were wrapped under the skintight white shirt he loves to wear, or when they played hide and seek under his loose tank tops. When he fucks you, your hands always wander somewhere else, busy trying to hold onto his arms and back for dear life. But now, your hands caress his skin, cupping them as you try to hide a giggle and stay in your role — you definitely need to work on your dominance — and tease his nipples every now and then.

“Fuck,” Jeno bites his tongue, dick rutting against your body, droplets of white shamelessly dripping from his head, staining his length and abs.

“You’re so sensitive it’s almost pathetic,” you try out, testing the waters. You fear you might trigger him, but instead, he moans louder at your words, throwing his head back more, and his dick throbs. “I’m barely touching you and you’re already a mess. You dreamed this so long, didn’t you?”

“Yeah, yeah,” he whimpers, his hips still grinding against you, desperately chasing for release, but you pull away. “No, please,” his voice breaks and tears swell at the corner of his eyes. Jeno is so fucking pretty like this, you have to fight back the urge to reach for the phone and snap a picture.

“Just relax, and focus on the parts I’m touching,” you say, kissing him to shut his whines down. “Let me take care of you.”

And he would, he does, he wants you to take care of him. If only this wasn’t so embarrassing, whimpering and squirming just from having his nipples played with. He wants to hold it in, he can push back an orgasm, but all his good intentions fly out of the window when your mouth wraps around the left sensitive one and your fingers pinch and twist the other one.

It’s not his fault he’s so sensitive.

“Oh God,” he cries out through gritted teeth, knuckles going white for how hard his hands are clenching around the sheets. Jeno feels dizzy, your mouth sucks harshly on his sensitive spot, quickly moving from one side to the other, never leaving him with no stimulation, your fingers are just as swift at taking the place your lips left. “Please, please, fuck,” he begs, hips stuttering messily, and legs parting as his body jerks with pleasure.

“Be a good boy and come for me,” you mumble against his skin, eyes looking up at his. And that’s the last drop for him; the realization that you saw him — and made him — this weak, even the slight humiliation he feels with it.

Jeno comes undone. Long, whiny moans and whimpers slurring out of his plump lips as his body stills before breaking into violent trembles, it’s powerful and overwhelming, and it makes him cry. Mumbles of your name follow when you don’t stop, fingers and tongue moving quickly on his nipples.

“Please, please, stop,” he cries, trying to push you away, “can’t take it anymore.”

You pull away, snickering as you watch the cum drip down his body. His chest is heaving, and his body is slumped against the headboard.

“Was it good?”

Jeno nods, his movements are slow, and his eyelids are almost close, but he still makes out your face, and smiles shyly. “More,” he begs and then adds, “please. If you want to.”

You smile, he’s so polite. “Are you sure you can take more?”

“Yes, yes, I just — I needed to calm down,” he explains, running a hand through his hair that covered his eyes messily.

“Lay on the bed,” you order before standing up.

He follows your order, feeling his body ache as he gets in position, but it all fades in the background when his gaze falls on your body, watching you move to throw your clothes on the floor.

“So,” you’re on top of him, you got rid of your skirt and top, the only clothes on your body are your — drenched — panties and the bra, “what do you want me to do with you?”

Jeno thought the embarrassing part had passed, but, lord, if he was wrong. Because he’s not prepared in the slightest to ask you what he’s about to ask. You will break up with him, this will be the last straw.

“Pup?” Your voice brings him out of his delirium, and he coughs. “You with me?”

He nods, struggling to find the words. “Please,” he whines, “don’t — don’t leave me.”

“Leave you?” You ask, a small frown forms on your forehead while your head lightly bends to the side to look at him. You almost look so innocent and harmless like this, but you’re not. You have all the power and control, and Jeno loves this and hates this at the same time. Maybe all of this is more mental than what he thought in the first place, or maybe he needs to relax, stop worrying so much, and just beg you. Beg you to fuck him, beg you to turn him into a brainless mess in the same way he had done in these past few months: pleading with his face smashed against a pillow to muffle his pathetic moans and his fist wrapped around his cock or his fingers inside of him, fooling himself that was you doing that to him.

“Please, fuck me,” he breaks, eyes panicking and looking around the room before you grab his face with a strong old on his chin.

“Say it again,” you order. Your face is relaxed now and the pout on your lips is rapidly swiped away by a sly smirk.  

“Please, please, fuck me, ma’am?” He asks, eyes softening as he looks into yours. He’s such a good boy, so obedient, so, so good. So, you’re about to give him what he wants, and what you want, grabbing the base of his hardening dick and teasing it against your pussy, moving the crotch of the panties to the side, but he surprises you.

“No,” Jeno cries, voice breaking again, “not like this. Not now.”

You stop, stilling and looking at him, eyes blinking as you try to understand what he means. “Not like this? And how do you want me to fuck you?”

“I — I,” he stutters, flashes of warmth heating his body up again, not that it ever really stopped, to be honest, it just keeps getting worse.

“You — you?” You urge, mocking him, mimicking his voice with a condescending tone.  

He frowns offended — and his dick throbs, but he won’t pay attention to that — but then goes on. “I want your — your fingers.”

“Oh,” you say, a smug grin on your face. “A handjob?” You know what he wants, you know where he wants it, but what you want, is to mess up with him.

“No, no,” he whines, shaking his head, reaching for your hand with his before you slap it away, making him groan in annoyance. “Please.”

“Please and no, are those the words that a good pup says?”

“No, miss, I’m sorry.”

“Good, then use your big boy words and tell me what you want. Details, or I won’t give it to you.”

Jeno swallows, inhaling deeply before confessing. “I want your fingers in my ass, please. I want you to fuck me with your fingers, miss.”

“Oh, now that’s clear,” you say, smiling tenderly and patting his head. He melts under your touch, and you keep a reminder to yourself to head pat him more often. “Good boy, telling me exactly what he needs.”

You get up to grab the lube from the drawer but when you open it, it’s not there. You scowl, scratching your head as you try to remember if you finished it and didn’t buy it again, but you don’t use it that often, so it can’t be.

“Where the hell —” you stop when, turning around, you see the blue bottle peeking from under the bed, you kneel to grab it and see that it’s badly closed. “You fucked yourself before?” You enquire, tilting your head, watching his face flush bright red even more, he tries to avoid your gaze, but you trot to him and force his face on you. “You were so desperate you couldn’t help but fuck yourself with your fingers?”

“I’m — I’m sorry, miss, I didn’t mean to,” he justifies, throat dry and heart beating fast. He doesn’t want to disappoint you, he would’ve waited, he wouldn’t have done that, but he needed that, he was terrible at putting this fantasy behind and he needed a release. But he’s still you’re good boy, right? You’re not mad at him for this?

You scoff, clicking your tongue, crawling on the bed. “You didn’t mean to, sure… fucking yourself behind my back, pff,” you scoff. “Tell me, were you thinking of me? My fingers deep inside of you? My hand wrapped around the base of your cock?” Jeno nods eagerly as you pour lube on your fingertips. “Were you calling my name? Whimpering like the desperate puppy that you are? Calling me ma’am and miss, maybe even mommy when you fuck yourself good enough,” all throughout the talk your fingers slip deep inside of him, making him gasp and hold onto the sheets under him.

“Fuck,” he curses, not expecting you to push two fingers inside with no warning. But the surprise turns into bliss in the beat of an eye. Your fingers are slender, and yes, they’re not as long and thick as his are, but they are yours. And you’re so good at moving them inside of him, curling them up, moving them with a firm rhythm, reaching the bottom, and then pulling out, that he has nothing to complain about. “Feels so good,” he somehow manages to let you know. You think it’s cute, his voice doesn’t sound like the usual, it’s whiny, trembling, and full of desperation. His eyes are watery, and you think the red on his cheeks won’t disappear soon.

Jeno is lost in the pleasure, thinking he has never felt better, he’s almost relaxed, lulling in the sensation that sends sparks down his spine. But you want to give him more and your other hand folds his balls, making him hiss and shaking him out of that haze.

“It’s alright, baby boy,” you reassure him, but he’s not sure. Especially when you spit on his dick, adding to the mess of his cum, and run your hand on his length. He wishes you would keep doing this, but instead, you torture him; while your fingers work him open, your hand focuses on his frenulum, massaging his most sensitive spot until he’s a crying and trembling mess again.

“No, no,” he whines when your lips start kissing his leaking tip. “Sensitive — I’m…” his voice breaks and dies in his throat when your lips wrap around it. He has you everywhere and he’s not used to this. He’s not used to feeling so much and giving so little — in his mind, to give you nothing, but to you, he’s giving you a lot. This vulnerable side of him is much more than anything else. “I — I can touch you, I can —”

You shut him up with a slap on his thigh. “You can lay there and take it,” you say firmly but without stopping your movements.

He nods quickly, lips pressed in a thin line, but the pleasure is so big that his moans and whimpers just rumble in his chest.

“Moan, Jeno,” you call him out. “I want to hear you moan for me.”

“But —”

“But?” You scold, glaring at him and stilling your fingers inside him. “Are you going to talk back to me and tell me what to do?” He shakes his head quickly, mumbling apologizes. “I think so, do you want to be my good boy?”

“Yes, yes, please,” he cries, hips bucking up, at first you think he’s doing that to feel your fingers but he’s just that desperate. He truly acts like a puppy too excited to be your good boy to even think straight, his body moving on its own. If he had a tail, he would wiggle it like crazy.

“You want to be my good pup?” You ask again, your fingers pull out and then push in, dragging a low gasp from his lips.

“Yes, I want to. Want to be your good puppy, please.”

“Then do what I tell you to do,” you remind him, your hands go back to his cock, throbbing on his abs and leaking pre-cum. It’s almost… funny how big he is —body and dick— and how helpless and powerless he looks, begging for attention as if he couldn’t just take it from you, ordering you, fucking you. But he lays there, pathetically drooling on the pillow, while his dick drips on his stomach and his ass clenches around your two fingers.

His sounds are like music to your ears, and the vision in front of your eyes makes your pussy drool more, you can’t believe you’re so turned on when fifteen minutes ago you were almost throwing a tantrum for this. But Jeno looks like the prettiest thing you’ve ever seen, and you wonder if he feels this way when it’s the other way around. All you know is that you’re mesmerized, eyes stuck where your bodies connect, his hole fluttering around you, the lube squelching in and out, and his toned, strong legs spread open just for you. Then they move up, the way his dick is throbbing in your hand and spills pre-cum, his chest rising fast, his hands clenched around the sheets. And his face, his eyes are closed but you know they’re rolled back behind his eyelids, his lips are swollen and dark pink, parted open to fill the room with the most desperate whines, his hair is a mess again, scattered around the pillow and his forehead.

“Fuck, fuck,” he whines, lifting his hips from the mattress when you hit him deeper and your hand starts moving faster on him. “Feels good, feels so good, you’re so good, you’re — you’re perfect, I love you, I love you,” he cries out, head rolled back as he lets the pleasure rush through his body.

You smirk at his words, the desperation and devotion behind his voice making shivers run down your spine. “Are you going to come?” You ask, already knowing the answer, watching him nod quickly. “Yeah? Will you be a good boy and come from my fingers only?” Your hand leaves his dick, eliciting a disappointed noise from him, but his breath gets cut off when you add another finger inside of him.

“Please,” he cries, the stretch of the three fingers making his hips move even more from the mattress, only to stop when your hand, flat on his stomach, keeps him pinned down.

“Stop squirming, or I won’t make you come and keep edging you until you pass out.”

It should be a threat, but it doesn’t even sound so bad to him, but not now, maybe one day, now he wants you, and wants to come as soon as possible. So, his hips still, the nervous twitching passing down to his leg but it’s fine, it doesn’t get in the way.

“Good boy,” you praise, patting his head, and making him smile. “Be even a better boy and come for me.”

You don’t have to tell him twice before his orgasm erupts, his body shakes before stilling completely, spurts of white spilling on his stomach, even reaching the sheets as his cock throbs in release and his hole flutters around your three fingers that are still pumping in and out at a fast speed. Slurs of curses roll from his tongue, and so does your name, while his chest rises fast before his body slumps against the mattress.

“Please, please, stop,” he cries out, feeling overstimulated.

You listen, pulling your fingers out and cleaning them on his thigh before leaning forward to kiss him.

“Want you, mommy, please,” he pleads, tears rolling down his temple while his hands look for the warmth of your body. “Please, fuck me, need to feel you.”

“Calm down,” you say, giggling at his cuteness and eagerness and get rid of your panties, throwing them behind with no care, and then follows the bra.

Jeno feels less embarrassed now that you’re exposed too, and gets lost in your body for a few seconds before he bites back a moan when your warm and wet skin makes contact with him. “I — I can fuck you, I can make you feel good, too,” he promises. “Be your good boy and fu–fuck you well.”

You smile tenderly, teasing him as you grind your hips rubbing your pussy on his dick that’s resting on his stomach. “Oh, I know you can.”

“Please, please,” Jeno cries out more. His dick is incredibly sensitive, it’s painfully aching, begging to be wrapped by something after all this teasing. You barely paid it any attention this whole time. “Let me be your good boy, use me,” his voice breaks and he almost chokes on his words as his pleading eyes stare at you for mercy. “Use my — use my cock as you please. Use me like your toy,” he says, “your good toy.”

It almost breaks your heart; he needs validation so badly and you feel genuinely bad for never noticing this before. You just thought he was always so strong and confident; you didn’t think he needed reassurance so much.

“Here, pup,” you say, sinking into him.

Jeno’s head rolls back, his hands clasping around your waist, but his hold, even if it’s strong, is different from all the other times before.

“Fuck, mommy, feel so good.” The way your warm walls wrap around him send him straight to heaven, you’re wet and fit perfectly around him.

“Yeah, you too, baby. You feel so good,” you curse through gritted teeth. He might be a mess underneath you, whimpering, crying, and begging, but that doesn’t make his cock shrink. Jeno’s big, and you should be used to it by now, but somehow it still feels like it splits you open every time.

“Please, fuck me!” Jeno laments loudly, bouncing his hips against yours, but a stern look from you makes him stop and apologize, “So-sorry, fuck me, please?” This time his voice is soft and polite, a desperate edge but with no eagerness behind — yes, there is, but he tries hard not to show it.

“Oh, fuck,” he screams when you lift your body up and slam back into him. You’re a lazy rider usually, and to be more honest, you’re just never a rider, 90% of the time riding his dick is a punishment to make you work for it, but now… well, you kept your skills well stored in. “Oh God, oh God, oh God,” he whimpers, hands clenching hard around your waist until his knuckles go white.

“What? You wanted me to fuck you so badly, and now? Bit more than you can chew? Is this too much for you, pretty boy? You can’t take it?”

Jeno shakes his head. “No, no I can, ma’am, I can,” he whimpers, biting his lips harshly.

“That’s what I wanted to hear,” you hum in satisfaction. Your hands fall at the sides of his head, your smaller body somehow still hovers over him and makes him feel smaller than ever. Your intense stare pins him to the mattress even more, making him shiver. “Give me your hands,” you order, but Jeno doesn’t listen — he doesn’t even hear, too lost in you to pay attention to your voice. “God,” you huff, rolling your eyes back, “I really have to do everything on my own because you’re just that dumb.” You forcefully grab his wrists, pushing his arms over his head and keeping them locked against the bed.

“No, I’m — I’m sorry, I — I wasn’t.”

“Yeah, you weren’t,” you mock, stilling before starting to pick up the pace again, “you weren’t listening ‘cause you can only focus on how good I’m making you feel, right? Stupid, dumb puppy can only think about his pleasure.”

“No, no, please, forgive me,” he begs, tears streaking down his face, and words coming out between gags and moans.  

“Can you fuck back into me? Or are you too fucked out to do that?”

“No, no, I can. I’ll be good, I’ll be good for you, miss,” he promises, lifting his hips to meet you halfway, but his body feels so heavy and his brain is mush, unable to send signals to his muscles.

Your head rolls back and your hands wrap tighter around his wrists, you find yourself grinding against him, rubbing your clit every time you bottom all the way down. But Jeno’s thrusts are sloppy and messy, he’s not even that bad when he’s about to come. “Stupid puppy,” you taunt, slapping his ass. “Can’t even fuck me after all the pleasure I gave you.”

Jeno sobs, literally, loud cries coming from the back of his throat making him almost choke, and you’re about to stop everything in worry before you realize that’s not because you went too far — partially, maybe, he’s not really happy to be said he’s bad — but because he’s close again and he loves the way you talk down to him and slap him.

“Are you coming again?” You ask in utter surprise because you can’t believe it.

But he shakes his head, he’s fighting against himself to hold it back, and for the sake of having at least an orgasm too, you stop your movements.

“I won’t — won’t come,” he mumbles, lips quivering. “Can’t you… can’t you just use me?” he wails. “Please, I’m too tired. Just… use me like a…” The last words are a slur lower than a whisper, and his head turned to the side doesn’t help you hearing what he said.

You tilt your head to the side, cupping his chin to force him to look at you. “Repeat loud and clear if you don’t want to regret it.”

Jeno gulps, nodding vigorously, but his voice still shakes, and his cheeks burn red again as he repeats. “Use me like a dildo, please.”

“Oh… so, this is how you want to be good to me?” You ask, grinding your hips against him, the stimulation is bare for you but so much for him that you trigger whines and whimpers out of him.

“But it will feel good, even if I don’t move, you know it,” he tries to reason, pleading with his glossy eyes. “I can eat you out after, or — or now, whatever you please, miss.”

“Whatever I please, uhm?” You ask, grinning.

“Yes, ma’am, I’ll do whatever you want.”

You smile, caressing his face, smearing the wet mess around before your hand pats his head. “You’re lucky I want you exactly like this, like a toy.” You start fucking him with no warning, and a gasp rips from his vocal cords before he starts moaning again.

His eyes roll back at each of your hard thrusts, and you see his hands itch because he can’t touch you, but you don’t loosen the hold on him. You feel strong, a kind of power you didn’t even know you had in you, and you don’t want this to stop.

Jeno’s entire body trembles when your hand wraps around his neck, squeezing just enough to dim the flow of air in his lungs. It’s hot but unexpected, just like it’s unexpected that he almost comes on the spot.

“Oh, oh,” you hum in delight, the corner of your lips lifting as you stare at him. “You like it…” Jeno tries to deny but you can read his body; you felt his dick throb inside of you, his eyes flicker to you in light panic before rolling in his skull again, and his breath falter. “Don’t deny it, it wouldn’t be the most pathetic thing you get off to,” you mock, making him blush again. “It’s alright, you can be my naughty boy, I won’t judge.”

He can only hum, and now that you look better in his eyes, you see there’s something completely different behind them. He’s in a completely different headspace, and you fear he won’t last much longer.

It’s the same for you, the thrill and adrenaline can only push you so far, you’re not used to this, bouncing your hips harshly on his cock and having control, your thighs are starting to scream, and your brain doesn’t want to pay them attention but you both know you’re both at the finish line for this first time. Not to add, you’re in desperate need of an orgasm.

“Ti-tight,” Jeno gasps when your hold on his neck loosens enough to let him breathe in normally again, just the time that he can take a few breaths before it fastens again, it’s not too tight, it’s your first time, you don’t want to end with him passed out on the floor, but it’s enough to do its job.

“Yeah? Too tight for you? Can’t take it?”

He moves his head randomly, frenetic movements as he moves his lips to talk, useless. Your cunt is sucking away every coherent thought in his mind, the only thing filling his brain: you and the need to release.

“Don’t talk, don’t need it. I know you’re too sensitive, wanted me so much only to shake underneath me because I’m fucking you too well. Can’t even form a coherent thought in that stupid, little brain of yours, can you?”

He shakes his head, tears streaming down, but you kiss them — lick them — away.

“It’s alright, I don’t want you to think. I like it when your brain is empty. Your just my pretty boy, right? Pretty, good boy that let’s mommy fuck him?”

His nods are eager, and without even realizing his tongue lolls out. You pout at the view, patting his head when you let go of his neck, making him breathe. “Good pup. Just look pretty for me.”

“Pre-pretty,” he whimpers before a fucked-out smile paints his face.

“Yes, baby, you are,” you kiss his lips, petting his hair another time.

“Co-come, wanna come, please. Let me — let me come, ma’am,” he cries out when he has enough air in his lungs and sense in his brain. “Be-begging. I’m beg — mmph,” his words die in his mouth and his eyes squeeze tight when you voluntarily squeeze harder around him.

“Begging? Is this how a good boy begs?” You ask, looking at him sternly, not that it lasts long, because when his eyes open into yours, you fold.

“’M sorry, so-sorry,” he apologizes, “please, miss, let me come, let me come inside of you, let me fill you up. You’ll — you’ll feel good, I promise,” his words are all slurred out together, spit drips from his lips down to his chin and neck, and his body is burning up, if it didn’t mean to edge and denying an orgasm to yourself too, you would probably push him farther, curious to see how far he can go. But for now, it’s fine, he’s a good boy, he deserves it, and so do you.

“Please, please, please, ma’am.”

“You’ve been so good, baby. You can come.”

When you give him the green light, his body explodes, his hips even shyly chase the orgasm up against you, fucking back into you lazily. His head rolls back and as soon as your hand sets him free, his hands find your hips, holding them tight, hissing and groaning when you hold yourself up on his chest, nails digging into his skin as your body keeps bouncing up and down, riding your orgasms.

Your body collapses on his, exhausted and boneless just like his, and his arms wrap around it right away while he still sobs and whimpers in the crook of your neck.

“Shh, it’s alright, you’re alright,” you whisper in his ear while your hand caress his hair, wet again but not with water.

“Don’t — don’t pull out,” he whines when you lift your body, “nooo, don’t leave me.”

“I’m here,” you reassure him right away, carrying his body with yours so you lay on the side and can pull him in a hug. “I’m right here, baby. I’m not going anywhere.”

“Good,” he mumbles, hiding between your chest and neck. “Tha-thank you, mhh, thank you for —” his voice breaks and his sobs get a bit louder as he hides more in your hold.  

“Hey, it’s fine, take your time,” you say, still soothing him with circular movements on his back and soft rubs on his hair.

Jeno wants to talk, he has many things to say, damn, even an explanation to give to you, but he feels his body is heavy, he feels on a cloud, and you are the softness all over him, he feels safe, something he’s not used to feeling. You didn’t get mad at this, you won’t get mad if he falls asleep for a while, right? If he lulls in this sense of comfort and the aftermaths of what happened.

And almost as if you read his mind… “You can sleep if you want,” you say, kissing his forehead gently and rubbing his nape.

And he has no strength to reply as his body falls into a deep sleep.  

When he wakes up, he’s not naked anymore, a big white shirt is around his body, covering just enough so he’s not completely exposed. The mattress is stripped from the dirty sheets and there’s a glass of water on the bedside table, but you’re not next to him.

Jeno almost panics, feeling the post-nut clarity made you run away scared and disgusted, but then the door opens, and you’re there. And it’s the same you he loves deeply. He can breathe again.

“Oh, hi, babe,” you greet with a big smile. You’re holding something in your hands and you’re wearing one of his shirts. “Feeling better?”

Jeno gulps, nodding and smiling at you, words are hard to find.

“Still too fucked out to talk?” You joke, slumping on the bed next to him, handing him the package of his favorite snacks. “Figured you needed some sugar after all that whimpering and squirming.”

“Oh, please, shut up,” he says, hiding his red face behind his hands.

“Hey, you were cute,” you say, grabbing his hands to move them out of the way. “I — I liked it. Did you?”

He nods quickly, okay maybe he’s still a little into that headspace.

You smile and then pout. “I’m sorry if I made you feel like you couldn’t talk to me about it. I’m always so loud and open about everything I want to try and… it never crossed my mind you might have different needs. I don’t know if you’re hiding anything else, but you can talk to me about everything. I love you and even if I might not be into something I won’t let it be the reason for a break-up, or a fight, or worse, making fun of you,” you say, grabbing his hands. “We can always try and then see the outcome. I mean, all that dominance before was improvisation, I was nervous as fuck too, I just tried to act like you usually do, tell me I was good,” you say, scrunching your face as you wait for his opinion.

Jeno laughs, it’s a genuine laugh, and you can almost see the weight being lifted off his chest. You still feel guilty for not making it feel like you could be a safe place for him, but it’s over now.

“You were really good,” he reassures you. “And… yes, I was a bit afraid of your reaction, but it was also something that had to do with myself. I’m — I’ve always been the strong one since I was a kid and then growing up it also turned into being this big ass man with muscles, so the pressure didn’t help.”

You nod in understanding. It makes you feel a bit less guilty, but you feel like there’s something else. “Is this all?”

“I also always have to be confident, but… I get insecure. I just feel like people are so used to me never making mistakes that they don’t even see my struggles or how hard I work for things, so all my hard work goes unnoticed. But I… I want to be… praised, I want to be told I’m doing good, I want people to tell me they’re proud of me.”

You cup his cheek gently and then kiss his nose, making him giggle. “I’m so proud of you, I tell you that, don’t I?”

“Yeah, you do, you’re the only one,” he says, leg bouncing nervously as he tries to find the words. But you’re holding his hand, rubbing circles on his palm and that’s calming him down a bit, or maybe not because he feels like he’s about to cry again.

“Hey,” you caress his chin and then rub your thumb on his cheek, your touch is soft, and his brain shuts off once again. It’s like he’s taking back all the wasted time he had to act tough and don’t melt in your touch. “I’m here, alright? Take your time.”  

Jeno nods, small hums slipping out of his lips before he finds the courage to talk. “I don’t know, sometimes I just… I want to feel small. And I want to be the one getting cuddled and petted, and just taken care of. I mean, don’t get me wrong, I love doing that for you, but… I always see you being so carefree when you’re with me and sometimes I get… so, so jealous because you can… you can loosen up, turn your brain off and no one will judge you. But if I do it, if I get… vulnerable in your hands, I don’t know what people will say.”

You caress his cheek before your hand runs in his hair, not only because it’s covering his handsome face again, but also because you learned he likes it a lot, and as expected, he smiles. “Do people need to know?”

He tilts his head and furrows in confusion. “They don’t?”

“I doubt people care about our sexual life, or what we do in our home. So, this can be our secret, at least until you’ll feel comfortable enough to let loose even outside of these walls. If you’ll share this with me, it will be less heavy, right?”

Jeno nods, smiling and pushing back tears.

“Hey, crybaby today, aren’t you? Come here,” you say, pulling him into a hug. He holds you tight, still afraid you might slip from his hold, and breathes deep your scent.

When you pull away, Jeno’s looking into your eyes and you hum to signal him he can talk.

“Thank you, I don’t know what I would do without you. Seriously, you made me feel safe and not judged, it means the world to me.”

“It’s the way you make me feel always, I’m glad you could feel that way too. And I proved I can protect you even if I don’t have all your muscles,” you joke, lifting your arm and flexing your not-trained bicep, making him laugh. “But seriously, I would never judge you, and I really love this version of you, so, unleash it more often.”

Jeno smiles widely, his eyes turning up in his usual half-moons, and then he lays on the bed, tapping the space next to him. You beam and crawl next to him, pulling him closer again, his head rests on your chest while your hands caress his hair and you just relax in the silence of the house.

“I love you,” you whisper, kissing the top of his head, his hair tickling you for a second. “And I’ll love every version of you, in any universe.”

Jeno still has a secret, but luckily, he has you to share it with.

𝐓𝐀𝐆𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓: @rbf-aceu ; @shiningnono ; @jaeminsbebu | general taglist: @froggyforyoongi , @wingsss45 ; @tddyhyck ; @technologyculturedneo

© neowinestaindress; all rights reserved. do NOT repost, modify, or translate any work from this blog on any other platform and claim it as yours. you can find my works on ao3 (neowinestaindress) and wattpad (winestaintedress_; currently inactive).

[mistiell]

I'm Starvin', Darlin'

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Fem! Reader

Summary: Spencer realizes how touch starved he is when you, the newest member of the BAU, develop a habit of casually touching him throughout the day.

Word Count: 1.7k

Warnings: Fluff, mutual pining, bit of a misunderstanding towards the end, this hasn't been proofread so I might come back to correct some things later

A/N: So, I have been like, completely MIA for the passed few months, and I apologize for that. Life has been hectic and I haven't had any motivation. However, I'm back now! At least for a little while. This is my first fic for Spencer but I hope to write more for him in the future. There'l definitely be a part two to this sometime in the future, so look out for that.

Part 2

Spencer has never been one for physical affection.

Logically he knows that he needs a certain amount of it to survive, and he doesn’t particularly mind it anymore when Morgan claps him on the back or when he has to shake somebody’s hand. But when he’s pulled in for a hug, there’s this weird sort of anxiety that makes him worry about whether or not he’s holding on too tight or how long he can stay there without making it awkward. He’ll endure it if he thinks a hug would be the best way to comfort someone, but typically, he avoids them altogether.

That was, until you came along.

It was sunny out, and for the first time in a while, the blinds in the bullpen were pulled open to let the sun shine in. Spencer was sitting at his desk, flipping through his mound of paperwork when JJ had led you over to your new desk, right across from his. JJ had caught his attention to introduce you, but the moment he laid eyes on you, whatever she was saying went in one ear and out the other

You had to be the most beautiful woman he had ever seen in his entire life. 

“Spence.” JJ’s voice snapped him back into reality and he was suddenly acutely aware of how long he’d been staring.

“Hm?” You’d giggled at his dumbstruck expression and he swore he’d do anything to make you laugh like that again.

JJ stared at him expectantly for a few seconds before rolling her eyes and gesturing to you again, “I said, this is Agent L/n. She’s our newest member.”

“Oh, right, um, I’m Sp-Spencer Reid. Er– Doctor Spencer Reid.” He was halfway through mentally berating himself when you smiled oh so kindly at him, extending your hand.

“Y/n L/n. It’s nice to meet you, doctor.”

“Oh, um, you can just call me Reid.” 

“Right.” You very obviously looked him up and down in a way that made his heart race, “Reid.”

And then you sat down at your desk.

And he had to sit there and pretend he wasn’t utterly and entirely flustered by that tiny, microscopic interaction.

He came to realize about a month into your friendship that you were a touchy person by nature. You’d touch his arm when he made you laugh and sometimes you’d squeeze his shoulder before you sat down next to him at the round table. Six months into your career there and you’d gotten comfortable enough that you’d hug most of them when you showed up for drinks outside of work and playfully pinch Morgan’s arm or side when he got a little too brazen with his flirting. Sometimes you’d bump Spencer’s shoulder to tease him. It took a few times to get used to it, but eventually he started bumping you back.

Actually, he found that the more you touched him, the less he seemed to dislike it. In fact, he finds himself waiting for those casual displays of affection. Every time your skin meets his, he feels warm, revitalized. 

Which is why on one particularly late night, when he’s utterly exhausted and the two of you are the only ones in the office, he feels comfortable enough to do what he’s about to do.

He thinks about it for a long while, never one to do anything like this without properly thinking it through. He’s just so tired and this case was so draining that, as pathetic as he thinks it is, he finds himself wanting to ask for a hug.

He won’t. He’s not that confident yet. But he thinks that maybe there’s another way to get away with touching you in some capacity.

So he rolls his chair over to your desk, attempting to casually plop down next to you so his side is practically pressed against yours. To his surprise, it actually works, though his casual “plop” is more like a rather awkward “slip-and-almost-accidentally-knock-you-over”. But you don’t mind. Instead, you laugh and bump his shoulder a lot more gently than he bumped you.

“Watch it, clumsy.”

“Sorry.” He chuckles, awkwardly clearing his throat, “What are you working on?”

“The mountain of paperwork that’s been accumulating since I got here.” You huff a short, embarrassed puff of laughter as you glance down at a notepad he hadn’t noticed, “That, and doodling.”

“Doodling what?” He asks, though he wonders how much he’s actually going to be able to pay attention when he’s so focused on how warm your thigh and shoulder feel against his.

“Oh, um,” Is he crazy or are you blushing? “It’s embarrassing.”

“I won’t judge.” After a split second of deliberation, he gently shifts his weight into his shoulder to nudge you just a little.

“Promise?” You smile shyly and he can’t help but smile back.

“Promise.”

There’s a second where you hesitate before sliding the pad over for him to see. He uses his middle and index finger to drag it over a little more and what he’s met with makes his cheeks warm and his heart flutter about in his chest.

It’s him. 

You’ve drawn him at just about every angle, and in such detail that he wonders if you were trying to downplay your abilities or if this is really your definition of doodling. It’s clear you’ve done most of these by memory only because he’s had his head bent over his desk for the past few hours, and most of these are full views of his face. They’re unbelievably accurate, and he realizes you must look at him enough to have his facial features memorized.

“I-I know they’re not great, and I messed up your lips in a couple, but, uh–.”

“Wow.” He breathes in such genuine wonder that you cut yourself off. He looks up at you, a strange, viscous warmth weaving in between his ribs and settling to swirl in his stomach in such a way that it makes him feel a little sick. But, even more strangely, in a good way. He catches himself staring and quickly looks back at your artwork with a flustered smile, “I-I’m flattered. This is… I mean, you’re amazing.”

The moment the words leave his mouth, heat creeps up his neck and he rushes to correct himself, “I-I mean your work is amazing. Not that you aren’t amazing, because you are, but–.”

“Spence.” This time, it’s his turn to cut himself off. That’s the first time you’ve ever called him that.

And fuck, if he isn’t a goner.

You place your hand over his and his heart leaps into his throat, “Thank you.”

“Y-Yeah.” He’s so lost in your eyes that it comes out a whisper. With a little flush of confidence, he turns his hand palm up in yours to squeeze your fingers before hastily pulling away to avoid you noticing how clammy his hands are.

After that night, he finds himself seeking you out a lot more. Knocking his knee against yours under the table, tapping you to get your attention rather than just calling your name. 

It isn’t until you’re both out with the team that he realizes he hasn’t been as discreet as he thought he’d been. He’s had a few drinks and is a little more than tipsy, which is never a good thing with how much alcohol loosens his lips. Especially when you’re sitting right next to him, definitely more sober than he is. 

“Pretty boy, when did you get so comfortable with people touching you?” Derek asks, earning a rather confused look from the man in question. Before he gets a chance to respond, you’re asking exactly what he’d been thinking.

“What do you mean?” By the way he’s looking between the two of you, Spencer assumes Derek is referring to the way you’re pressed against his side – or rather, how he’s pressed against yours, considering he’s the one who leaned practically his whole body weight into your side the moment you sat down.

“You don’t know?” Emily asks, and you shake your head, “He doesn’t like touching anyone.” A knowing smirk creeps up on her face as she locks eyes with him, “Or at least he normally doesn’t.”

“Oh.” Is all you say in response. He doesn’t like the sadness in your tone, and he especially dislikes the way you shift away from him to give him space. There’s a rather startling urge to wrap his arm around you and pull you back to him, but he shuts that down immediately, not wanting to make you uncomfortable.

“Do you remember that time he dodged a handshake by telling the guy it would be safer for them to kiss?” Penelope giggles, clearly drunk at this point.

“You weren’t even there.” Spencer counters, laughing a little to diffuse the tension. He glances at you out of the corner of his eye and notices that your smile doesn’t quite reach your eyes.

You’re a little too quiet the rest of the night. At one point, you leave for the bathroom and when you return, you slide your purse in between the two of you to keep a safe distance. 

He hates it.

He hates it even more when you stop him outside the bar with an apologetic look on your face as you’re all leaving.

“Hey, Spence?”

He swallows the butterflies in his throat that surface at the nickname, “Yeah?”

“I, uh,” You clear your throat awkwardly, “I’m sorry if I’ve ever made you uncomfortable with all the, um… touching.”

He opens his mouth to tell you he really, really doesn’t mind it, but you accidentally cut him off, “I didn’t even consider that you might not be comfortable with it, and that was really inconsiderate of me. Now that I know, you don’t have to worry about it anymore. I’ll be sure to uh, keep my hands to myself.” You titter, glancing at your shoes sheepishly.

“Oh, it’s okay–.” He’s cut off again, this time by Emily, who’s yours and Garcia’s designated driver for the evening. “L/n! You coming?” She calls with a smile.

“Yeah!” You call back, before turning back to him. He watches you almost lean in for a hug, and a pang of disappointment stabs at his chest when you stop yourself in favour of nodding at him with a smile, “I’ll see you next week, yeah?”

“Yeah.” Is all he has time to say before you’re climbing into the backseat of Emily’s car.

He is seriously dreading going into work on Monday.

[murdrdocs]

sweet as a grape

description. ART DONALDSON lost a match, leading him to sulking at the hotel bar. when you slide up next to him he starts to feel like he won.

includes. SMUT MDNI 18+, submissive art, no challengers spoilers, fem!reader, sex w a stranger, drinking (but no drunk sex), masochism, dry humping, virgin coded/inexperienced art, choking, gagging (self inflicted), brief rimming, slight overstimulation, lots of allusions to masturbation, allusions to edging, art is a fucking freak

wc. 3.6k+

a/n: this is all based on assumption since challengers has yet to be released at time of posting. artwork is nighthawks by edward hopper. title from too sweet by hozier. some plot inspiration taken from @too-deviant's ray bans

Art Donaldson knows he's good at tennis. He knows he's great, and he knows that with greatness comes attention. Reporters always looking to get an exclusive from him, coaches always looking to take credit for the gained speed in his serve, brand, and companies looking to put his face on something, and people throwing themselves at him, begging for even a glance so they would have a story to tell their friends.

He knows this. But it still comes as a shock whenever people prettier than he thinks he deserves turn their attention to him. It's still a shock when you, a being with far too much beauty and grace, slides up next to him.

He smells you before he sees you. A sweet scent wafted to his nose, hitting him against the face with a pleasant slap. Then he senses you, the aura that radiates off of your body. Warm and comforting, even with the blistering heat from out that is attempting to permeate the hotel bar. He doesn't gather the courage to look at you until you speak. And your voice, God there's something about it. Something that makes Art's muscles loosen for the first time in hours, as the smooth lilt of your tone is a nice change of pace from the grunts on the court and the grating ridicule from the reporters asking him about the match, all disappointed faces reminding him that he lost.

But sitting here, on a barstool next to you, Art begins to feel like he won.

"I'll have what he's having," you tell the bartender with absolute confidence. You're leaning on the counter just a bit in an attempt to make your voice clearer, your ass perked up in the air enough to grab Art’s attention. He doesn't mean to look, really, but as he brings his glass to his lips he can't help how his eyes cut to the side briefly.

Besides, the skirt of your dress is long enough to cover your backside.

Art shakes his head. "You don't want what I’m having." He shouldn't be having anything right now. He might have lost his match, but this isn't the end. The alcohol will only slow his recovery, he knows this, but his half-assed reasoning of needing to drown his sorrows took over his mind, settling into his frontal lobe and steering his choices.

The bartender is already sliding a replica of Art's drink your way. You raise it and Art clinks his glass with yours. Then he watches you taste it. It's strong, straight liquor placed on ice which barely does anything to make it smoother, but you take it like a champ. You only take a sip, though, your eyes squeezed shut as it goes down before you place the glass back onto the counter and wave the bartender over again.

You flick your tongue out to catch a drip of liquor that missed your mouth. It’s so pathetic how just that one movement makes Art shift in his seat.

This time, you order something sweeter. Something more your style Art figures. Art doesn't think before he orders one for himself, too, and follows up the order by telling the bartender to place these drinks and any that will follow on his tab.

It doesn't take long before he confirms that you know who he is. But you're subtle about it. Your recognition comes in your glances. The way you narrow your eyes. The way you smile and laugh at his poorly made jokes. The way you ask him how he's doing—your tone a little firmer, as if you'd been in the stands today watching the close match that ultimately led to a loss. And it's then that Art recognizes you, too. 

He'd seen you briefly, just one glance before he was turning back to focus on the match. Your eyes had been covered by a pair of sunglasses then, but at the end of the match when everyone else was cheering for the winner, Art saw you cheering for him. Stood at the entrance to the locker rooms, your stacked bracelets glinting in the sunlight as you clapped. The sound of his blood rushing to his ears had been deafening then, the red in your eyes distorted every image. At the time, he believed that not one clap was in his favor. But yours surely was.

He can't tell if your intentions are really any different than anyone else who has tried to sleep with him, but he doesn't care. Because he just wants you so bad.

And for once in his life, he lets himself have what he wants. He accepts that he's a desired person, even on his off day, and he takes you, possibly the most desirable person he'd ever laid eyes on, upstairs to his room, and lets you have your way with him. 

He lets himself show a side he’s never shown to anyone else before. A side that is only seen when he’s tugging his cock all alone, his mind helpfully conjuring up images as he sped up the flick of his wrist, only to slow his motions down to a stop on his own accord. And he would continue the delicious torture, for as long as his mind and body could conjure, especially if he lost a match. 

This is a more compliant side. Less of a persona he’s put on for the media, and more of a man who just wants to please and be pleased. 

Tonight, with you laying back on his bed and waiting for him, he considers his options. He doesn’t know if he should continue his usual routine of self-inflicted torment. Or if he should give into you completely and lose himself amongst the nectar that’s gathered between your thighs. When he sees the imprint of your arousal, he decides that he’ll go along with whatever you want from him. 

It doesn’t take much for him to live up to his promise. 

You’re lying on your side, your head resting in your hand as you smile up at him lazily. You’d both had your last drink a while ago, and with the way they were spaced out Art doesn’t think you’re drunk. He’s not drunk, but he still feels elated. He feels like a teenage boy when you beckon him over and he complies willingly, crawling towards you until he’s sitting on his haunches. 

You lay on your back, staring up at him, blinking up at him. And Art waits. He waits and waits until he realizes you’re waiting for him to make the first move. 

He bends down and presses his lips to yours. The shape of the kiss is awkward since Art’s position forces your lips to align together at a perpendicular angle. But you don’t mind it. You let the initial press linger for a second before you place one of your hands onto his side and pull him towards you. Art interprets your pull as wanting him to land atop you and he does. 

The bed is large enough that only his feet hang off when he straddles you, placing only the weight of his bottom half over you and holding his top half up with a hand pressed into the mattress. 

His other hand settles on the thin strap of your dress. The material hangs off of the angular end of your shoulder, just close enough to fall off. Art doesn’t know if he initially intended to pull it down or push it back up. But you look up at him, your eyebrows slightly raised. It’s a look he knows well. He’s seen it on many opponents who doubted him. 

You’re challenging him. 

He pulls the strap down and that’s all it takes for you to take his face in both of your hands and pull his lips to yours. You have some unexpected strength in you. Your tug throws Art off of his balance until his chest collides with yours. You’re not deterred at all, your leg hiking up over Art’s hip as you press your foot into his lower back. 

Your dress must have slipped up somewhere along the way because Art can feel the warmth of your center pressing against his pants. He does it subconsciously, not even realizing what he’s doing until you reciprocate the movement, but he’s grinding into you with long and languid swipes of his boner into your arousal. 

There comes a point where the two of you need to pull your lips away from the other. But Art stubbornly doesn’t want to. His lungs ache for a breath. His head screams at him, telling him that kissing you can’t be more important than breathing. But for a moment there, just a single moment, Art believes that it is. 

When you pull away first, Art tries not to take it personally. 

“Will you fuck me?” You ask him through your breaths. Your question takes Art by surprise. Your words are so blunt. A little crude. But they stiffen the pressure in his trousers. He likes how assertive you are. It has his head spinning and somehow he manages to hide how desperate he is in his reply. 

“Only if you ride me.” 

Not much can be hidden whenever you’re on top of him. 

You’re staring down at him, likely with a view not too dissimilar from Birdseye. Art knows that like this, he’s probably spread out before you like he’s on an examination table. From the heavens, you’re able to notice every single thing about him that you choose to. 

The way his breath hitches when you sink on him. The way he’s a little lost behind the eyes, the two big blue windows unfocused enough to suggest how much pleasure he’s getting from this. He starts to feel a little insecure, but then you bring a graceful hand down and push his damp blond hair off of his forehead, providing the ventilation needed. 

Gratefully, his eyes fall closed and his head tips back. You bring your hand down to cup his cheek and Art instinctively turns his head just enough to place a blind kiss into the center of your palm. 

“Will you look at me, Art?” 

You ask him so politely, your voice just as sweet as it was earlier in the night when he’d only been imagining something like this. He wishes you were a little firmer with him, but he still obeys, slowly peeling his eyes open. 

He’s instantly grateful that he did. Because for just a brief second, he forgot just how divine the image above him was. 

Your body is almost completely bare since the top half of your dress has been pulled down to reveal your tits. They shake with each movement. With each controlled way you sink down onto him. In the same way he’s in his element on the court, he figures that you’re in your element here. You look so natural like this, stripped by the wish to satisfy your most basic need. But you’re so good at this. He wonders if you’d had as much practice at this as he has with his craft. Not that it matters to him, especially since any previous practice you could have had would have only contributed to this time, making it as heavenly as it could possibly be. But Art thinks he wants to practice this, like this, with you more often. 

The way your cunt takes him in is hidden by the skirt of your dress. With a hand more shaky than expected, Art lifts the hem and the sight he’s blessed with makes him dizzy. He has to take a controlled breath, look away, and then come back to it. 

Your pussy is so pretty. He can’t see much from this angle, and he wishes he could see more, but he can both see and feel how wet you are. In a risky move, you’d allowed Art to forgo a condom and he sincerely hopes he won’t regret it later. The last thing he needs during the height of his career is a bastard with his eyes and a monthly check written to a one-night stand. But when he’s able to feel you intimately and see how your essence is shining his dick, he can’t regret anything. 

Everything seems like it was meant to be at this moment. Even the damned neon ball that escaped his racket by just an inch that brought him to the bar this evening anyway. 

“Here,” you mumble. Art doesn’t know exactly what you’re referencing until you knock his hand away and replace it with your own. You lift your dress over your head and throw it to the floor where it joins Art’s already discarded clothes. Now you’re both even in terms of nudity. But the fields are definitely still uneven. 

You have complete control in this setting. Art doesn’t mind it one bit. 

You reach your hands down and take Art’s grasp in yours, directing his rough palms up to your body. You place his touch on your waist, but getting the feeling that he’s allowed to touch more than that, he lifts his hands up and grazes his fingertips over your erect nipples. 

Your reaction is appreciative so Art does the movement again. He’s amid his third swipe when he remembers something. The magic button one of his old hitting partners told him about one afternoon during unwanted locker room talk. 

He sticks two fingers into his mouth, unable to help the way he stuffs them a little too far back. He only stops when he gags just once, and then he pulls the digits out, satisfied by how slick they are, and brings them between your thighs. 

It takes a moment for him to find it. He curses under his breath when he misses the first time, and grunts when he misses it the second time, but the third time is the charm. He presses at first, attempting to see if he’d found it. And when your hips jerk, he begins to draw on his memory and starts circling your clit. 

You moan, your head tipping back as you start to ride Art with more fervor. More passion is behind the way you move your hips. More determination is in the way your hands press into his torso to ground yourself. You have one hand below his navel, manicured nails scratching his happy trail while your other hand slides up higher and higher. 

And just when Art thinks you’re going to reach your target, you stop. The base of your hand presses into the top of Art’s sternum while your fingers lay across his collarbones. You’re so close. Just a little …

“Higher. Please.” 

You don’t say anything, you don’t give him a look, you just do as he says. You push your hand up higher until you find the other end of the magnet. 

When your fingers wrap around his throat, Art groans from deep in his stomach. It comes from a place he’s only ever accessed during an intense game. Never during something like this. Briefly, he wonders if this could be considered a game. But if it is, it’s one he’s losing. He’s not even bothering to fight back. You’re dominating him and he likes it. Hell, he fucking adores it. 

You’re the one in control here, so it’s only natural that Art asks for your permission to cum. 

The need steadily approaches, pushing through his body, working its way through the maze until it finds the end which leads directly up into you. 

“‘m close,” he warns. “Can I cum? Please? Will you make me cum?” 

You nod fervently. Art sighs, he relaxes into the bed with a delusional belief that he’ll get to cum any moment now. 

Your words clear things up for him. “Make me cum first, Art. Then I’ll return the favor. Deal?” 

He doesn’t pout or complain. He just agrees. “Deal.” 

He uses his free hand to grip your hip and speeds up his touch on your clit. His fingerpads slip down just a bit to gather more wetness, and then he brings his touch right back up and settles it right onto the part of your clit that protrudes the most. 

The sight of you cumming is so beautiful. Just this one hit, this one time, is surely enough to make Art addicted. While he watches you cum, taking in the way your chest pushes your tits out and your head throws back, revealing the gorgeous line of your neck, he thinks that he wouldn’t mind if you had his kid. As long as it guaranteed that you would always be in his life. 

Unfortunately, he doesn’t get to make his sex-hazed thought a reality as you pull off of him, ignoring the way your cunt is gripping him with resistance. You settle beside him, sitting with your legs tucked under you. Your hand comes to Art’s cock, and it only takes a few strokes before his hips are lifting and he’s cumming. 

You press your lips to his while he releases, stroking him determinedly while you kiss him messily, lots of saliva and tongue swapping between the both of you. When your hand around his throat tightens just a bit, Art’s hips stutter, and his cock twitches in your hand. He can feel you grin against his lips. 

“Let me clean you up?” You ask him with the prettiest smile. He’s dazed when he nods, not really knowing what he’d just agreed to. When you settle between his legs, Art almost backs out. He’s still sensitive, he knows it without you even touching him. But it’s rude to push a pretty girl away when she’s offering to use her mouth on him. 

So he sits through it. 

He fists the bed sheets and tries to swallow his groans whenever you lick the cum off of his torso. He accidentally whimpers when you wrap your lips around his tip. And he can’t hold off the deep moan that pushes out of him when you allow his cock to sink into your mouth. 

This cavern is different than the last. A little rougher, but the constant pressure and warmth from your tongue is comforting. He was already softening whenever you first took him in your mouth, but his dick is allowed a single moment of rest. He hardens inside of your mouth, and when he’s ready, you start to suck him off. 

It’s embarrassing how quickly he’s close. But he can’t really hold off when you use your hands to push his legs a little further apart, and you abandon his dick for a brief second to bring your tongue lower, pushing the muscle along his pink-clenched rim before you drift back up. Art’s gasp is pitiful. Even to his own ears, he sounds like something out of a porno, his voice wobbling as he moans, sounding like he’ll cry at any moment. 

His back arches and he decides he needs more of you. He takes a bit more control, even though it happens accidentally. He presses a hand into the back of your head and rams his cock up into your mouth, hitting the back of your throat more than once and triggering your gag reflex. 

When he cums this time, it’s in your mouth, and you suck him clean again. He moans your name all the while, the syllables becoming more broken each time he repeats it. He thinks he’s praising you, but he doesn’t know what he’s saying. For a second there, he doesn’t even know where he is. 

Then, when he comes down, he’s silent. He’s like a cat with the way he shudders. He’s absolutely spent, labored breathing reverberating throughout the otherwise silent hotel room. You slide up to his chest, laying your head in the center. Your hand has been taken off of his neck and delicately placed into his hair. 

You play with the curls for a second before speaking. 

“You okay?” 

He nods, letting himself catch his breath a little more before he speaks. 

“Yeah. More than okay. You?” He brings a hand to your back, pulling you closer to him. You’re staring up at him from his chest, and like this, you look innocent. Heavy eyes blinking up at him, your lips pulled into a smile. 

You hum affirmatively. “Shower? Or bath?” 

Art laughs a little when he says, “Bath. Definitely a bath.” He knows that his legs would be a little too shaky to withstand a shower, and as he follows you into the bathroom, his suspicions are confirmed. He’s satisfied to see you struggle a bit with stepping into the tub. 

Sex with you was fucking amazing, and somehow, the ease with the two of you hasn’t diminished. You’re both sober, any alcohol that could have remained in your systems definitely been expelled by now, but you’re just as charming. And Art is just as relaxed around you. 

He thinks that he could exist with you for a while. 

When he awakes on his own the morning after, he thinks he was too wishful the night before. Maybe he’d been reading way too much into something that was solely a one-night stand. He sits at the edge of the bed, head hung and tail tucked, but then his mood improves just a bit when he sees your panties laid forgotten on the floor. Even when he throws them with the rest of his clothes from his suitcase, he doesn’t let his mood improve too much. 

He has pissed, showered, and is standing over the sink to brush his teeth when he sees your note attached to the mirror. 

had to leave. thought you had things to do. call me sometime. or come visit. room 1046, here until tomorrow. xx

The note is placed carefully with the rest of his belongings. 

[norrussell]

Christening | Lando Norris⁴

Pairings: Lando Norris x fem!reader

Summary: Lando bought a new car, but you think there's one thing still missing for it to be a complete experience

Warnings: smut, no time for plot we're jumping straight into it, semi public unprotected sex

A/N: Well I just couldn't resist when I saw Lando in a lambo, I had to write this little scribble and I bit off the nail gel from my papaya nails while writing this just so you know. Now I'm going to sit in a timeout after this, thank you

Lando picked you up in his new car in front of your flat where you’ve been waiting on the sidewalk. The sleek dark blue car pulled up to the curb, its engine purring softly. Lando leaned over and opened the passenger door for you, a charming smile on his lips.

“Hey there, gorgeous,” he greeted, his voice low and smooth. “Hop in.”

You couldn't help, but feel a flush rise to your cheeks at his words. Lando had always had a way with words, and his confidence was infectious. You slid into the car and settled into the leather seat, taking in small, but still luxurious interior.

“You traded jolly for this?” you remarked, admiring the car. “What kind is it now?”

Lando grinned. "It's a Lamborghini Miura," he said. "Just got it yesterday."

You whistled. "Impressive," you said, running your hand over the dashboard. "But how does it drive?” you glanced at him, your voice dropping to a seductive octave.

Lando's eyes flickered with desire as he revved the engine, the car vibrating beneath you.

"Let me show you," he said, his voice husky.

Without another word, he shifted the car into gear and the powerful engine roared to life. The car lurched forward, and you couldn't help, but let out a gasp of excitement.

As Lando sped down the streets, you felt a thrill run through your body. The way he handled the car with such ease and control was intoxicating. You watched as his hands expertly navigated the steering wheel, his eyes focused intently on the road ahead. You bit your lip and pressed your thighs together, wishing he was navigating something else.

“How do you like it?” he broke the silence, pulling you out of you trance.

“It’s nice,” you huffed. “But there’s still something missing.”

“Like what?” he frowned.

“We need to christen it.”

“What? How do you christen a car?” laughing, he switched lanes.

“Drive to the cliffs and I’ll show you.” you muttered, unable to resist the temptation any longer.

Lando glanced over at you, a devilish glint in his eye. "You sure you can handle it?" he asked, his voice low and playful.

You gave him a sultry smile in response. "I can handle anything," you replied, your heart racing with desire.

Lando chuckled and pressed down on the accelerator, causing the car to surge forward. You gripped the edge of your seat tightly, feeling the wind rush through your hair as the car sped down the road.

As you approached the edge of the cliffs, Lando slowed down, the car cruising along the winding seaside road. The sun was setting, casting a golden glow over the landscape, making it look even more breathtaking. Lando pulled the car over to the side of the road, the car engine idling quietly. He turned to look at you, your eyes locking with his.

“Now what?”

“Lando,” you started. “I wanna ride.”

“You… you want to ride the car?” his eyebrows knitted together, a slight line of concern forming in the middle. “Babe, I’m not sure that’s how-”

“No, silly,” a helpless laugh escaped you. “I. Want. To. Ride.” you put your leg over him, moving in between every word until you were sitting flat on his lap. “Can I ride, Mr. Norris?” you whispered against his lips, your noses brushing together.

Lando's breath hitched in his throat as he felt you straddle him. His hands instinctively went to your hips, holding you tightly against him. You could feel his arousal growing beneath you, and it made you feel powerful, knowing that you had this effect on him.

"Fuck, you're so sexy," he groaned, his lips finding yours in a fierce kiss.

His tongue plunged into your mouth, exploring every inch as you moaned against him. The sound of the waves crashing against the rocks below and the smell of the salty sea air added to the seductive atmosphere. Lando's hands roamed over your body, trailing down to your ass as he pulled you even closer. You ground your hips against his, feeling the heat between your legs growing with every passing second, his hardness pressing against your core. You couldn't wait any longer.

“Let’s make this car ours.” you whispered into his ear.

Lando could only nod, with lips parted and breathing shakily, as your hands snaked down to unbutton his jeans and free his straining erection.

The thrill of the moment turned you on even more. The look in his eyes as he took in the sight of you straddling his lap was absolutely hypnotic. It made you feel wild, like a woman possessed. You bit your lip, your hands trailing down to the base of his cock.

He sucked in a sharp breath as you wrapped your hand around him. You could feel the veins pulsing beneath your fingers, the skin hot and smooth. His eyes widened as you squeezed him, gently at first, and then with more pressure. He let out a low moan, his fingers digging into your skin as you started to stroke him.

“Fuck, y/n,” he groaned as you slid your hand up and down, squeezing harder with every stroke.

Your hands were coated in the warmth of his arousal, his desire spilling over. You felt your own wetness pooling between your thighs, as lust washed over you. You teased the head of his cock with your thumb, feeling the tiny beads of pre-cum at the tip. He whimpered in response, urging you on with his eyes.

You gasped when suddenly Lando lifted you up, moved your panties to the side and rested his tip on your entrance, your juices trailing down on him.

“Oh, Lando, please…” you were the one urging now, gripping his shoulders for balance.

“I could, but,” he gave you a cheeky smile. “Are you licensed to ride me?”

"I think I proved you time and time again, but if you need a reminder..." you trailed off, moving your hips and sliding down on his length, gasping as you took him in, your wetness enveloping him. He was thick, thicker than you had ever felt before.

“Fuck,” Lando panted, throwing his head back against the headrest. “You’re so tight.”

“Lando,” you whispered, lowering your hips. “Just fuck me already.”

You could see the restraint in his eyes as he opened his eyes and gazed at you, his body shaking with desire. A groan escaped his lips as you thrust your hips, taking him in even further.

You moved your hips back and forth, your heartbeat quickening at the delicious feeling of him filling you up. Your body trembled, your muscles aching for more. You could feel yourself growing wetter with every second, his cock slipping in and out of you. You let out a moan of excitement as the car started to rock, his thrusts getting more urgent.

“God, y/n,” looking at you with wonder, he groaned. “The way you look right now... that's so fucking hot.”

“And what about now?” you asked, shifting slightly so that you could feel him hit a different spot inside of you.

“Yeah,” he moaned, his head falling back. “That too.”

You could feel yourself getting closer, your breathing becoming more ragged as the friction against your clit grew stronger. You could hear Lando's breathing growing louder and faster, echoing in your ears. You wrapped your arms around his neck, pulling him toward you for a kiss. The look in his eyes was almost too much to bear. You had never seen such raw, intense desire. You closed your eyes, feeling the pressure building up inside you.

Lando’s fingers dug into your skin, urging you closer. You could feel him getting harder, his cock throbbing inside you. It was almost more than he could handle. His hands gripped your hips as you rode him, thrusting his hips up to meet yours, his eyes pleading with you, begging you not to stop.

"I'm gonna… I'm gonna cum." he moaned.

"Cum for me, Lando," you whispered into his ear, your lips pressing against his skin. "Cum inside me."

Lando let out a loud grunt and thrust his hips up as deep as he could, feeling your muscles spasm around him. You threw your head back, your body trembling with desire as you felt his warmth flood into you.

He let out a lungful of air, his head resting against the headrest as you slowed your pace, his cock softening inside you.

“That was amazing,” he whispered, reaching up to caress your face. “Thank you.”

You took a few moments to catch your breath, leaning in to kiss him softly. The sunlight had vanished, and the orange sky had turned a dark shade of purple. The air outside had cooled, the wind picking up.

You looked down at him with a small smile, your heart twinging. “It was a perfect ride.”