#The side profile probably could have been better

[thirstyokapi]

[supernaturalistthings]

Roadhouse

Dean Winchester x Female!Reader

Warnings: +18 contains smut

Summary: You have had feelings for Dean Winchester for a while and never thought you guys would be more than friends but on a case Dean's jealousy gets the best of him and the truth comes out.

You set your takeout box on the desk and sigh, putting a hand to your head to rub between your eyebrows looking for some kind of stress relief. Detective Bass eyes you and sets his takeout box on the table separating the two of you and leans in, setting one of his hands on the table. His gaze is intense and it puzzles you further.

“We will figure this out” he finally says

He was partially correct, he just had the wrong “We”. You and Dean would figure this out, you had been on this case for two days now and still hadn't pinpointed what exactly was attacking the women in this town. You were utterly exhausted, this cheap pencil skirt keeps riding up, the fluorescent lighting is giving you a headache, and the autopsy results are starting to blur.

“Hey you want to turn in” he says, reaching around the table to rest his hand on your thigh. Don't get it twisted, Detectives Bass’s sharp features, dark hair, and lean build could make any woman's head turn however you have had a certain hunter on your mind and had for a while now. As if on cue you hear a familiar voice say

“Hope i'm not interrupting” Bass’s hand flinches back as Dean stands in the doorway with his hands in his pockets. 

He tensely walks forwards and takes a seat on your side of the table. Straightening his suit out as he does. He sends a look laced with daggers into your profile and you tense. You know he's as annoyed about this case as you were and try to let it go.

“You're not, we were just finishing up actually” You reply. You stand up and start to gather the files on the table when you look over. Dean's eyes aren't on you but on the detective across the table, His jaw is locked and his hand is clenched in a fist so hard that his knuckles are turning white. You turn your attention back to the papers and then look up and make direct eye contact with the detective. He was looking directly at you with his hand running over his bottom lip and chin, if you didn't know better you'd say that was lust in his eyes.

“Well it's been a pleasure working with you tonight Agent Seager…” he says referring to you, “... it's just been wonderful” He reaches a hand out intended for you to take, and you do. You shake his hand and he looks so deeply into your eyes, he might be able to see through you.

The silence is interrupted by Dean clearing his throat and standing and reaching his hand out to shake the detective's “Pleasures all mine” their hand meets and the tension is palpable. Dean is intense right now and it makes Bass shift on his feet. Your confusion was probably written on your face. Dean drops his hand but not his gaze and you put your hand on his upper arm to break the match. Dean looks at you annoyed, rolls his eyes and starts making his way towards the door with you following behind. You try to match his pace as you two hastily head toward the exit.

The big exit doors open and as soon as they do Dean turns back and without saying anything grabs your hand and starts literally walking you to the car. You're struggling to keep his pace and your mind is racing at his touch, but also his demeanor and why it is the way it is. You both come upon the car. You open the door and get in and slam it behind you, fueled by Dean's attitude. He does the same and you finally cut the tension as the engine roars to life and he pulls out of the parking lot.

“What is your issue?” You say snarkily

He says nothing and stares at the road ahead, tightening his grip on the steering wheel.

“Whatever” you say after realizing from the length of his silence that he had no intention of answering your question. You sit and contemplate what you could've done to annoy him so much and anticipate seeing the motel come into vision. But it doesn't. A run down roadhouse does. Probably even the gnarliest bikers wouldn't even touch this place yet, here we are. You snap your head in his direction the second he parks and say

“What in the actual hell are we doing here?” He rolls his eyes and looks over in your direction in one swift motion. He looks down your entire body and back up again to meet your eyes. This isn't unusual. You have caught him doing it before but never so blatantly and certainly not while harboring such annoyance for you, or what you thought was annoyance. You had always wondered if it meant anything to Dean the way you hoped it had.

It was hard to care that he was annoyed with you when he looks as stunning as he does. His tie is now loose, his jaw is sharp, his hair is slightly tousled from running hand through it occasionally on the drive to the roadhouse. It was possible you were also giving him a subconscious once over and he must have noticed. He smirks and his eyes flicker from your lips to your eyes.

“I'll forget you let Detective Bass have the pleasure of undressing you with his eyes if you join me for a drink” he says still smirking and with a bluntness that stirs something inside of you but you're quick to retort 

“I didn-”

“Yes or no..” he says interrupting and without breaking eye contact, still smirking.

Your mind is racing with all the possibilities right now, swimming with all the endless ways this night could unfold. All you can say is

“Yes” with that he grins a jackpot smile and opens his door to get out you're too stunned to move when your door opening breaks you from your thoughts. You turn and see Dean's hand stretched out for you to take. You follow your eyes up and meet his green ones and they're a shade that you've never noticed before with an apparent sparkle. You take his hand and allow him to lift you out of the seat of the impala. He shuts the door behind and you and you take one last glance at each other before you both head hand in hand into the rundown roadhouse.

He opens the door for you and and you're confronted with a loudly playing “Night Moves’ by Bob Seager, rainbow strobe lights and the smell of cheap beer and cigarettes. You look over at Dean with a look that says really? and he says 

“Oh cmon, give it a chance” and with that he takes his hand that was previously holding yours and grabs your waist and pulls you to him. You're tucked firmly into his side and he walks the both of you over to the bar and orders a beer, a shot of whiskey for himself and a tequila cran for you. Your favorite, he noticed.

The first round comes and goes and so does a second and half of the third before you need a bathroom. You wait for Dean to finish a genuinely engaging story, all of them have been you love just talking and getting to know him without the thought of the world's doom on your shoulders. Right now it feels like only you two matter and every word that spills from his beautiful lips fuels this. You say you'll be right back and he smiles as you silently slightly struggle to lift yourself off the seat, It felt like you had been on for way too long.

You make your way to the bathroom and open it up and find it's not as gross as you were expecting. Shocked and pleased, you head to the sink and look at yourself in the mirror. Your hair is slightly disheveled from running your hands through it while talking with Dean, your dress shirt had opened an extra button and your skirt was becoming a little too short. You looked kinda hot in a messy sort of way but you decided to straighten yourself out and splash some water on your face to hopefully offset the alcohol coursing through your system at the moment.

You rest your hands on either side of the sink and try to compose yourself with use of your reflection when the door you thought you locked behind you opens and shuts. You quickly turn around to face the intruder and are met with Dean. He's staring at you in a way that takes your breath away and urge to curse him out for barging in. He looks at you the way you've always wanted him to look at you. He’s breathless himself when he slowly reaches his hand behind him to turn the lock on the door.

His eyes don't leave yours. He takes a few steps forward until you can feel each other's breath fanning over each other's cheeks. You can't think of anything else other than the hue of his green eyes, the few freckles he has, and how kissable his lips look.

“You drive me crazy… and you have for a while now” he says as he lifts his hand to brush some hair from the sides of your face.

“What-” you say, feeling like you're gasping for air.

“I can't see you with anyone else… ever'' there's a brief silence and then he tilts his head and whispers against your neck  “i adore you… you have no idea what you do to me..” his hands slowly and tenderly grasp your waist and you’re having trouble deciphering if this is actually happening or if that third tequila cran has you hallucinating on the sidewalk somewhere. All you know is his hands feel really real on your waist and his breath on your neck travels all the way down to where you want him most, that also feels very real.

“Say anything..please… I'll take anything right now…” He pulls back without taking his hands away from your waist, thankfully, the feeling is electrifying. His face has a tinge of worry of doubt and you can't stand it.

“I feel the same…” You say taking the sides of his face into your hands. You watch as the doubt is erased from his face and that jackpot Dean Winchester grin creeps its way onto his face once again.

“...I have for a while now” you say with your own grin. Proud of stealing his line and finally admitting your feelings to the man you adore. He leans in, sealing your lips and in this moment it feels fate. His hands move from your waist to the sides of your face as if he can't possibly get enough of you. The kiss is passionate, tender, everything you both ever wanted. Your hands ignite wildfires across each other's bodies as you explore and feel what you had both wanted more than anything for a long time now.

He places his hands on the sink behind you, caging you in and breaks the kiss to look down and steady himself. He feels ravenous right now and it's taking everything in him to not rip your clothes off and take you right here. You're not making it any easier as that is exactly what you want right now, it's exactly what you need. He looks up with his mesmerizing green eyes and says

“You have no idea how bad I want you right now...”

“Nothings stopping you...” you say in a whisper hovered against his lips while you regather the sides of his face into your hands. He kisses you again but this time with no sign of an end or hesitation. You pull his tie with both hands until it's undone and throw it to the floor. The kiss is feverish and intense. You love the feeling of him and he feels the same.

You start to undo the many buttons on his dress shirt and he starts to do the same to you almost as if in a race. You fling it off his shoulders and pull it down his strong arms. You help him slide yours down your shoulders and sneak a quick glance as it falls to the floor. You're both panting, desperate for air but even more desperate for each other. He carefully moves his hand over your breasts through your bra and just like that you're a moaning mess. 

“I want to see you… all of you” he says as he puts his hands back to your waist and turns you so you're facing the mirror. He unclasps your bra while standing behind you and slides the straps off your shoulders and as you watch as it falls off your frame onto the floor. He's kissing your neck and has his hand on the other side. His free hand is trailing its way from your nipple, to your stomach, to the ends of your now very ridden up pencil skirt.

He pulls it up all the way to your stomach and starts rubbing you through your panties. Soft circles to match the soft wet kisses all over your neck, the other hand moves down your chest and cups your breast and massages. His touch is euphoric and all you want is him. You can feel that all he wants is you from his hardness pressed onto your backside.

“You'll never want another man after what I'm going to do to you… I can promise you that sweetheart…” he whispers against your neck, while continuing to place soft hypnotic kisses, and rub circles over your clothed clit. You can see yourself unraveling through what glimpses you can catch in the mirror. You're rested against his toned chest with your head thrown back and eyes screwed shut moaning and gasping out Dean's name. He has just found his new favorite song.

When he pulls away, you snap your head to look in the mirror just to catch his devious eyes before he turns you once again to face him. He leans down and simultaneously reconnects your lips and lifts you so you're resting on the edge of the sink. His hands are on your thighs and he's standing between them. You guys are kissing all over each other. It's heavenly. You're both grinding against each other and you start to undo his pants and tug them down. He helps and pulls them the rest of the way down.

He's already hard and he's big. Bigger than you'd ever had. You take him into your hands and start pumping him eliciting a string of moans and grunts that only fuels you more. He’s wanted this for so long and it was about to happen. He takes himself from you and looks at you with a question, are you sure? You nod wanting nothing more. He smiles and kisses you again. He hooks a single finger around your panties and moves them to the side. He slides himself along your slick folds, relishing the feeling.

He slightly pushes the tip in and moves in and out slowly giving you time to adjust. He's panting and gasping at the tightness. You're grasping at his shoulders and loving the sensation. He pushes in further and you're singing his name in praise. He starts to move and then moves feverishly. You both have wanted this for so long you can't get enough. Youre hand are running everywhere over eachothers bodies and hes holding you in his strong arms as he fucks you. You can feel yourself unraveling and judging by the slight sloppiness of his thrusts, he's almost there as well. You tighten around him and cum which seems to set him over the edge and the next thing you feel is him spilling out of you. 

You're both a mess and simultaneously rest your heads on each other's shoulders trying to catch your breath.

“That was-”

“Amazing” he cuts you off and picks himself off your shoulder still breathless and gives you a quick kiss. Neither of you move, unsure if you ever wanted to leave this bathroom, this moment. You just stay in eachothers eyes for a bit.

“We should get going” you say with a smile crossing your arms around his neck

“So eager for round two?” he replies with that signature smirk grabbing your waist and pulling you off the sink to stand. He holds you there.

“If that's what it takes to get us out of this place faster than absolutely” you say with a laugh and it earns one from him as well. You both redress yourselves, helping each other along the way. You’re both smiling and giddy and it's just comfortable.

You both go to walk hand and hand out of the roadhouse bathroom and as soon as the door opens you're both greeted with an embarrassingly long line of skeevy bar patrons, all shooting daggered stares you and Dean's way. 

“Worth it” he says while looking at you, dare you say lovingly.

[kesujo]

Unabashed Seduction

Tags: mommykink (...the rest of the tags are relatively vanilla, I think)

Warning: 17k words

The night was not turning out how I expected it to go.

I was dressed to kill, freshly washed, put on enough cologne to be noticeable but not too much as to be overbearing, spent probably close to half an hour styling my hair, even properly shaved my pubic hair and sprayed some ball toner for good measure too. I even scouted the bar before coming here; some friends had recommended this place as a great new spot to pick up chicks, but there hasn’t been one I’ve talked to that hasn’t been too wasted to feel good about taking back to my place.

“Sorry babe, I’d love to stay and chat some more but I gotta wake up early tomorrow.”

“Aaw, why?”

The girl I was currently talking to was hot, for sure, but I could pretty much smell the alcohol from her breath. “You make sure you get home safely, alrighty, princess?”

“Why don’t you take me home then?”

Her voice was filled with seductive intent, but I was long past the point of interest. “Sorry, sweetie. How about an Uber instead?”

“I’ll make it worth your while,” she continued with her low, sultry tone, but when I didn’t budge, she switched to a whinier tone, “Come on, I’m dying to get fucked.”

I could feel her tits pressing up against my arm, but tempting as they were, there was no way she had the capacity to consent in her current state. “Give me a sec, ok?”

It took a few more minutes to send her on her way back home, leaving me back inside the bar, eyeing the rest of the crowd. There was no shortage of girls, but none of them caught my eye.

Tonight’s not my night, I guess.

Deciding that I better head home before some other drunk-out-of-her-mind chick decides she wants to go home with me and isn’t as good about giving up as the previous one, I downed the rest of my drink. Before I set out to leave, another last-minute scan of the crowd stopped me dead in my tracks when my eyes landed on her.

At first, all my eyes told me about her was that she was a fine piece of ass; the way that spaghetti-strap white dress hugged and accentuated her curves was sublime, the fabric stretching perfectly over her tight, plump ass sitting prettily atop the bar stool that somehow didn’t even seem to crease under her weight. But when she turned to the side to talk to the person next to her, the more than ample amount of cleavage spilling out of the top told me she had curves upstairs too; sure, she wasn’t as big I usually liked them, but the confidence with which she bared them more than made up for that. The side profile or her face told me that it wasn’t just her body that was fire: her lips were full and red, her eyebrows well-manicured and clean, her skin a perfect milky white with thighs that looked as soft as marshmallows, everything even down to her plunging neckline was perfection.

But where have I seen her before?

Before I could fully find the answer to that question, she turned back around, facing away from me to talk to someone on her other side.

Was she famous? She definitely had the looks for it. Or maybe she just had one of those faces that everyone seemed to recognize.

Stumped, I ended up pulling out my phone to take a picture of her to save the query for later. There was no way I would be able to come up with an answer given how buzzed I was at the moment. In that moment, while I was steadying my phone on her, something that I probably shouldn’t have caught on camera happened.

While her left hand was covering the top of her drink, her fingers were slim enough to give way to tiny cracks that allowed for something to be slipped between. She might’ve been secure in thinking that they were small enough to adequately protect her drink, but evidently was mistaken: while she was turned away talking to the gal to her right, the bartender took a quick look around, pulled something out from his pocket, and slipped a small, white tablet into her drink.

What the fuck?!

The tablet dissolved in an instant, the fizzles from the tablet vanishing just as quickly as it was plopped into her beverage.

Seeing that sobered me up pretty quickly. Fortunately, I had the wherewithal to switch to video when I noticed the bartender taking one too many glances at her drink, and recorded the entire ordeal.

Was I seeing things correctly? Were they trying to use a date rape drug on her?

Watching the video over again, now that I was considerably less drunk, the identity of the woman came to me.

Oh shit, that’s Tiffany Young, isn’t it? That K-Pop girl who came to America to release a few English songs or something. They’re trying to pull this shit on a celebrity?

The more I replayed the few-seconds clip, the more certain I became. The amount of secrecy that the bartender employed, how abnormally quick his actions were for an innocent person, even the way the guy on Tiffany’s left seemed to share a knowing glance at the bartender before slipping in the mini-tablet.

However, when I looked up from my phone, to my horror, Tiffany had already placed the glass to her lips and downed the rest of the glass.

Laughter and cheers erupted from the group after she did so, Tiffany smiling along with them.

Maybe I saw seeing things incorrectly. Maybe I was just being paranoid.

The quick glance and smirk the bartender and the guy shared was all it took for me to stand up.

Now that I thought about it, all the guys who recommended me this place weren’t really ones to go to clubs much themselves. I had decided to overlook the rumors of this place’s reputation, of drunk girls often getting taken advantage of, in favor of listening to the recommendations of my friends, but having witnessed it with my own eyes, I now had no doubt those rumors were true. Which meant, if even the bartender was in on it, then calling for security was a gamble that I couldn’t afford to risk.

“Excuse me.”

I could barely hear myself over the overbearing music, and given how far I was from them, it was no wonder none of them reacted to me. From her actions to the way she was slightly slurring her words, I could tell she was already pretty drunk.

If she’s that drunk, then it probably won’t take long for those drugs to kick in.

My walk turned into a brisk pace, pushing and maneuvering through the crowd as I watched another shot disappearing down her gullet.

“Excuse me!”

This time, both my distance and volume were enough to get the attention of all four parties.

The guy sitting next to Tiffany was the one who responded first. “What’s up, dude?”

“What’s up is that you’re trying to fucking slip date rape drugs into this woman’s drinks, bitch.”

He stood up and, in an instant, was right in front of me, bumping his puffed-out chest against mine. Although he stood an inch or two above me, I stood my ground, unphased. “What did you say to me?”

“Exthuse me, wha…?”

“You heard me. Are you really so pathetic that you need to rely on drugs to get laid?”

He raised his arm with a balled fist, but I kept my eyes on him, unflinching. “You just jealous I get to talk to the hottest chick in the club? You trying to play white knight in a pathetic attempt to get into her pants?

“Ex—Excuse me!” The two of us stopped, our attention turning towards the slightly red-faced celebrity. “What did you thay--say? A … date wape—… dddate ww—rrrappe ddrrug?”

I nodded. “I have—”

“Come on Tiffany, are you really going to believe this desperate loser over me?”

“—as I was saying, I have video—”

“You’ve been talking to me all night—” Her eyes flickered back and forth between me and him, and I could tell that he was making good ground in convincing her otherwise. I needed to do something before I let these guys get away with it. “—and you’re suddenly going to trust this random guy who shows up? You’ve been fine so far, haven’t you?”

“Well … yeah, I hhavenn’t—” I shoved the screen with the playing video in front of her without another word. “—what’re—…” she quieted down as her eyes focused on the smartphone in my hands.

Very quickly, I could start to see the panic in the guy’s eyes. “What are you doing, showing her—” the guy swiped at my phone, causing it to fly out of my hands and over the bar counter.

“You saw enough though, right?”

The look she gave the guy was all the answer I need.

“What did—” from how much less she was slurring her words, I became hopeful it was a sign of sobering up after reaching the important part of the video, “—are you in on this with the bb—bartender?”

“What? The bar—no! What are you talking about?”

I couldn’t help but laugh at his stammering. “If you weren’t, then you wouldn’t have smacked my phone out of my hand, wouldn’t you?”

“That’s a load of bullshit, I just knocked the phone out of your hand because—” a pause, a nervous twitch of his eyes and a quick sideways glance at the bartender, who I could tell was very deliberately staying away from this side of the bar considering how closely he was hovering around it not minutes before, before continuing, “—for all I know, you could’ve been showing her some doctored video, or some inappropriate stuff.”

“Right, and you expect Tiffany to believe that?”

The two of us turned to her, who at this point was trying to get the attention of the bartender. “Exthuse--Excuse me, bartender!” Her sharp, loud voice cut through the blaring music like a hot knife through butter, but even then, he barely moved. “Excuse me!” The volume of her voice rose, but still the bartender didn’t budge. She leaned over, the woman on her right having evidently slipped away without my noticing. “Excuse me!”

This time, Tiffany’s voice drew even the attention of the other patrons of the club, who started to glance over. Probably realizing he couldn’t play dumb anymore, he walked over. “Yes, how may I help you, miss?”

“There thoud—” she furrowed her brows, slowing down her speaking rate while enunciating her words more carefully, “—shoould be a phhonne oon the grround sommewhherre near yyou, can you ppick it up?”

“A phone?” He angled his head down and did a quick sweep of the enclosed bartending area, just as quickly looking back up with a shrug. “I don’t see a phone.”

“There must be—” her eyes narrowed, and in the corner of my eye, I could see her pressing her legs together, as if tensing, “—there must be, I saw it get knocked over. Can you look again?” He did the sweep with his eyes again, probably about 0.1 seconds slower this time, but Tiffany didn’t let it slide. “No,” she said, the clear frustration on her face worsening the slurring of her speech, “I mean down look—I mean, get down and look.”

“I’m sorry—was it your phone?”

Tiffany shook her head. I quickly glanced at the other guy, whose face was growing redder by the second. I grinned; checkmate, you fucking rapist.

“No, it was this—” again, a slight stutter in her words, and another quick glance at her allowed me to notice the slightly quicker rate at which her chest was heaving, and the fact that it was heaving in the first place, “—this gentleman’s.”

“In that case, no can do.”

“What?”

“I noticed the commotion he was causing earlier, and while it’s not my place to take sides in bar-side squabbles—” yeah right, you were the one who slipped in the drug “—what I can do is think to myself, out loud, that him losing his phone is probably not the worst thing that can happen to a man like him.”

“Are you saying you—are you saying that because you were drink—” Tiffany furrowed her brows in annoyance, her speech speeding up in clear parallel with her frustration but simultaneously causing her to trip over her words more, “—you were the one who slipped that white—white thing into my drink?”

Hearing that sentence, as broken as it was, was probably one of the most satisfying things I’ve ever heard in my entire life. And that was coming from someone who has heard compliments from a porn actress that he fucks better than some of her coworkers.

“…Excuse me, what?”

“I saw the video,” she replied, still treading carefully over her words but still speaking with all the authority of a celebrity, “You slipped something between my fingers, into my drink, while I was looking away. I didn’t get to see the entire video because the phone was knocked onto the ground somewhere near you.” At this point, I could tell even the bartender was starting to have nervous sweats.

“I mean, if you let her watch the whole video, maybe she can have some good context as to what kind of a thing you slipped into her drink, right?”

“I’m—no, I’m sorry miss, it must’ve been a mistake. We’re a professional and well-known establishment—”

“Yeah, you’re certainly well-known alright,” I cut him off, poorly holding off a laugh, “well known for taking advantage of drunk women.”

“Bro, stop daydreaming. This is reality, you have to accept the fact that not every fucking woman in the world wants to sleep with you.”

“Yeah—”

“This white knight bullshit you’re doing is ridiculous, come on Tiffany, let’s—”

The man’s attempt to reach out to grab her wrist failed, Tiffany taking a hasty step back to dodge him, nearly stumbling into a backwards fall. Before I could reach out to catch her, her arm had shot out to the now unoccupied barstool behind her, setting herself back upright.

“No. I’m—” she quickly changed her standing stance, pushing her legs together again; this time, I couldn’t help but notice her face a little redder than before, but even more noticeable were the beads of sweat starting to form on her forehead. Was that the drug starting to kick in? “—I’m—I can’t—” she took another hasty step back, stumbling again. This time, I was ready, my hand shooting out to grab her arm before she could fall onto the ground.

“Let’s get you out of here, first, Tiffany. I’ll call an Uber for you.”

“What do you think—”

“I have that video saved on my cloud. Do anything, follow us, and I’ll send that video straight to the police. Got it?”

The threat caused the pair to freeze in their tracks.

“Tiffany, can you walk?”

She nodded, but a few steps told the completely opposite story. Fortunately, I was prepared to catch her. “Sorry…”

“Not a problem. Let’s go.” I threw her arm around my waist and secured hers with my own arm, pushing through the crowd towards the exit.

We barely made it a few steps before Tiffany pulled at my shirt. “Wait—…”

“Damian.”

“—Damian.”

This time, when I looked at her, I could tell her condition had worsened even more; she was panting pretty heavily now, her forehead almost glistening with sweat, her face beet-red and her legs pressed firmly together. So that’s why it was so hard to walk; why was she so adamant about doing that? Was the drug creating some type of pain there?

“What’s wrong? Do I need to call 911?”

She shook her head. “Let’s sit down for a second.”

I acquiesced against my better judgement, finding a vacated table as far away from the crowd as I could find. As soon as we reached it, Tiffany all but collapsed onto the leather-padded booth seats, pulling me into the seat right next to her. “How are you feeling? Do I need to call anyone?”

“With what phone?”

Shit, that’s right. My phone.

“Eh, it’s not the first time I’ve lost my phone. I can just get another one.”

For some reason, that seemed to pique her interest. “What? ‘First time’?”

I thought back to that incident, where I found out the morning after one of the wilder nights of sex I’ve ever had that she was crazier out of bed than in it. “Never mind that, what’s wrong?”

She turned towards me, a look that was all-too-familiar look on her face. “Me.” She uncrossed her legs, probably the first time she willingly parted her legs ever since the drugs seemed to kick in, slinging an arm across my torso while her leg did the same across my lap. In barely a second, the dark-haired woman was straddling my lap, her arms looped around my neck, and an intense gaze bearing down on me. “There’s something wrong with me.”

“What?”

My attempts at trying to establish eye contact with her failed, her eyes instead electing to stare directly at my lips. I could slowly feel her pressing herself more firmly against my slowly-growing erection. “I feel like … I need you. Now.”

Oh, fuck.

That desperate lust in her eyes, the way she was starting to grind against my hardening member, the fullness of her lips and the redness of her face and the neckline of her spaghetti-strap top slowly being pushed down and revealing more of her cleavage, it was all getting too overwhelming.

She’s drunk. I need to stop this.

“Tiffany—”

“Just a little bit.”

I took a deep breath, reigning in my raging hormones, everything in my body that was yelling at me to go! “No.”

“Please?”

Calm down.

“You’re drunk—”

“Just a little bit, I promise.”

I was so distracted by trying to gather the strength to push the out-of-control celebrity off my lap that I was almost too late in catching her trying to undo the fly in my pants.

“Stop—Tiffany—”

The burgeoning relief in her face was instantly replaced with a frustration as my hands wrapped firmly around hers, bringing them back to her sides. God, I feel like I could accidentally snap these wrists at any moment. “I need you so bad, please…” she whined, grinding harder against my crotch after another failed attempt at advancing her hand towards it. It might’ve just been my imagination, but I could’ve sworn I could feel her arousal leaking out of her and onto my pants in liquid form. “…it hurts so much…”

Jesus, what the fuck kind of drug did they feed her that got her like this?

“Tiffany, you need to go back to your house—”

“No!” Her legs wrapped more tightly around my waist as I tried to slide her off me, simultaneously pressing those bountiful tits against my chest and planting her face against my collarbone. “I don’t—I can’t, not without—”

I took in another deep breath. Control yourself, Damian. Not only is this woman drunk, but she’s influenced by an evidently pretty strong aphrodisiac. She is doubly in no state to properly consent.

“Let’s find you some sleeping pills, then—”

She shook her head against my neck. “No no no, I don’t need more drugs, I need—I need your cock.”

I could just about feel the skin on my palm breaking with how tightly I was clenching my free hand. “Listen, Tiffany, as much as I would love to, you—”

“Then fuck me.”

“Listen to me.” The words unintentionally came out as a growl, and when I realized that, my face morphed into one of horrified realization. “Sorry, I—” And, just as quickly, my face morphed into that of confusion. Why did she look even more turned on?

“Yeah, punish me daddy, I’ve been—”

“No, stop.” I mustered every last ounce of strength I had to capture both of her arms, settling them at her sides. “Tiffany, I don’t mean to be rude, but please don’t interrupt me.” I didn’t know if my frustration was leaking through or if she was going through with the roleplay she manufactured out of nowhere, but frankly, I didn’t care: I was just thankful she had finally decided to settle down. “You’re drunk. You were fed some drug that’s making you like this. That is two reasons you can’t consent when normally one would suffice. Do you understand?” She didn’t respond, unperturbed, as if the words went in one ear and out the other. I did tell her not to interrupt, but that didn’t mean she couldn’t even shake or nod her head. “Listen, you need to go home and get some sleep. Before something happens to you that can’t be undone.” Again, she didn’t respond, maintaining strong eye contact with a smile on her face. “Do you understand?” No response. Was she really intending to maliciously comply with my request for her to not interrupt me? “Answer me.”

“Hm? What?”

I sighed. The words really went in one ear and out the other, huh? Maybe I shouldn’t expect too much out of someone as obscenely drunk as her. “I said—”

“You talk too much.”

“Don’t inter—”

This time, it wasn’t Tiffany’s words that interrupted me, but her actions: namely, when she leaned forward and, with an amount of accuracy unbefitting a drunk person, promptly silenced me with her lips.

I couldn’t help but enjoy the soft, velvety texture of her plump lips for a second, which were every bit as amazing to kiss as they looked, before pulling away.

“Tiff—”

She manually silenced me again, with such accuracy I was beginning to wonder if she was actually drunk or not. But all I needed to do to answer that question was to taste the alcohol on her lips.

It took a second longer to shake her off again, but she was persistent. “Wait—”

With my hands busy holding her wrists in place, I could do nothing but try to dodge her assault. But, when I realized this scene, of a woman seemingly attempting to sexually assault a man, would only draw more attention, I stopped resisting as much. Tiffany, taking full advantage of the fact, leaned further into the kiss, wasting no time in involving her tongue.

And fuck me if it wasn’t the hottest make out session I’ve ever had, with probably the hottest chick I’ve ever kissed, but the ever-present aftertaste of alcohol ruined any attempt of mine at trying to get into the mood.

When my grip of her wrists vanished, her arms instantly came up, looping around my neck to pull me deeper into the kiss. But despite all the strength she was finally allowed to use, she was still no match for me. “Tiffany, bed.”

Those words were the only ones I could get out before I lost control of her again, but thankfully, she seemed to hear them over the blaring music of the club. “Oh, you’re finally ready?”

I smirked, which apparently was all the answer Tiffany need to climb off me.

And to think I almost retired early to avoid the clingy girls who couldn’t say no, only to end up with one anyway.

“There’s a hotel just down the block.”

Thankfully, this time, Tiffany didn’t protest, obediently following a few steps behind me as we exited the club and into the brisk early-autumn night. Obedient as she was, I could still tell how horny she was by how tightly she clung onto and how she had returned to the strange tight-legged walk, an action that I finally understood the meaning of: she was trying to contain her wetness, something that I confirmed had leaked onto my pants. Thankfully, they were dark enough so as to not be noticeable.

Although the walk was brief, I was thankful we weren’t stopped or even around many other people; the only delay was at the hotel counter, where I briefly considered what type of room I should get before quickly deciding to get the most expensive suite of the hotel. This was Tiffany Young after all, and with what almost happened to her, she probably needed it.

“Thank you for your patronage!”

The lady behind the counter bowed politely, but I could feel her gaze lingering on me as I dragged Tiffany onto the elevator, keycard in hand. I couldn’t blame her; with how heavy Tiffany’s panting has gotten, with how flushed her face had become, with how much she was pressing herself against me, it probably looked like I was the one who fed her that date-rape, aphrodisiac, whatever-it-was drug to her. At least Tiffany noticed too and was thankfully sound-minded enough to quell those suspicions, but even so, I could tell she figured something was off.

The doors to the elevator barely closed before Tiffany was all over me again, lips going straight to my nape while her arms and legs attempted to snake around my body.

“Damn it—” No, I’m pretending like I’m continuing this in the room “—at least wait until we get into the room.”

“Wait?”

“Someone might see.”

Tiffany paused for a second, shooting me a dangerously seductive smile. “Let them watch.”

Oh, fuck. I stopped to take a deep breath, again trying to reign in my raging hormones, stifling the image of Tiffany riding my cock in this elevator while the door opened to reveal a horrified yet turned on audience. This woman is drunk and affected by that bartender’s drugs. I can’t—

Out of the corner of my eyes, a glimpse of her cleavage caught my attention. Before I knew it, my eyes had fallen onto them, completely captivated.

It was only when the elevator dinged that I snapped out of it.

I can’t let myself lose control. Fuck, why is she doing this to me? Why do I feel like I can’t control myself when I’m around her?

“Tiff—” I had to almost lift Tiffany up and carry her out of the elevator with how little regard she gave to the fact that we had stopped ascending, “—Tiffany, we’re here.”

Getting to the suite and unlocking it with the keycard was already a decently hard task when a woman was wrapped around me, but even harder when that woman was Tiffany. Every time she pressed her tits against my arm, every time she planted another kiss on my jaw, every time her hands slid across my abs, I wanted to stop what I was doing, pin her against the door I was struggling with, rip that pretty little dress off her lecherous body and ravish her right then and there—but that wasn’t what I was here for.

As soon as the door closed behind me, I squatted down and picked Tiffany up in one fluid motion, a squeal erupting from the surprised celebrity. “Ooh, what’re you gonna do to me?”

“Wouldn’t you like to know.”

Thankfully, the walk to the bed was short, so Tiffany didn’t have much more time to respond before I dumped her onto the soft mattress. The light of the half-moon streamed through the huge glass pane in the bedroom, illuminating Tiffany’s figure strewn haphazardly across the white blankets of the bed. In contrast to the beautiful sight was her beet-red face, the sizable mounds on her chest heaving hard enough to be noticeable, her hands already having disappeared under the bottom half of her dress that was barely clinging onto her well-shaped curves. It took me what felt like a full minute to bring my suddenly spiking hormones down to a controllable level.

“Dam-Damian?”

“Sorry, I need to use the bathroom first. I’ll be right back.”

I was going to regret this. Or maybe I wasn’t.

This once-in-a-lifetime opportunity to fuck such an irresistibly sexy and unforgivingly erotic woman, a globally-known singer, known by many, loved by many, and lusted over by many … when was it ever going to present itself to me?

No. I have to be content, knowing that, at least, I didn’t let Tiffany do anything she might regret.

… But fuck, if only she wasn’t drunk, if only she gave me any reason to believe she could consent, then—

“Wait! –you’re lying!”

—then I would— “What?”

“You didn’t even look like you were in a rush.” Her words were spoken slowly, still somewhat slurred, but I could still very clearly distinguish every syllable that was coming out of her mouth. “Are you trying to ditch me?”

Being able to figure that out means that she’s at least sober enough to use her brain enough to properly consent, right?

It didn’t take a second for me to be disgusted with myself for thinking that. With how obviously drunk she was a second ago, there was no way she was sober enough to properly consent—that aside, listening to her speak was already evidence enough for her lingering drunkenness. “No, I’m not ditching you. I’ll be right there, ok, Tiffany?”

“Don’t lie to me!”

It was so hard to continue resisting the urge to give in. It felt like everything was working against me: how horny Tiffany had made me, the feeling of regret for walking away from such a golden opportunity, picturing what Tiffany looked like naked and imagining what it would be like to fuck her, that escalating voice trying to convince me that it was ok, even Tiffany herself was trying to stop me.

Just keep walking, Damian.

“Don’t look down on me just because I’m a little drunk! Is that what you’re worried about?”

I scoffed, turning around. “Please, I fuck drunk girls all the time.”

Apparently, doing that was the wrong move. “See, you’re lying! It’s so obvious!”

Fuck, why did I have to be such a bad liar?

But the fact that she could tell that I was lying was yet another indication that she’s sober enough to consent, isn’t it?

“No, I—” I let out a frustrated sigh. “—I’m sorry Tiffany, have a good night—”

Before I could sprint off, her brows furrowed and she keeled over in pain.

I barely had time to consider if it was an act before I was already at her side, hand gently patting her back. “What’s wrong?”

“It hurts…”

“What? What does?” At least it doesn’t seem like she was acting, with how she hasn’t attacked me yet. “Do you need me to get you some medicine?”

She shook her head. “No.”

“Then what…?”

“It hurts,” she repeated, and when my eyes followed where her arms were leading to, the realization hit the moment she said the clarifying words, “My pussy. It hurts so bad.”

Was that an actual thing? Did there exist such a drug that made a woman so horny, her pussy would start hurting?

“What are you—” I couldn’t even bring myself to accuse her of lying though. With how much she was sweating and how badly she was groaning—either she was one hell of an actress, or the drugs were really hurting her that badly.

See? Not only is she probably mentally sound enough to consent, but she actually needs you. It would be a disservice, both to myself and to her, to just walk away.

For the first time in my life, I conceded to my lust.

“I’ll help you.”

She turned her head towards me, looking at me weakly. “R-Really?”

I reached down and flung the shirt off my body. I could feel Tiffany’s gaze lasering in on my well-defined abs as I climbed onto the bed, one hand landing on her arm while the other on her stomach. “You better not regret asking for this.”

My hands went between her legs, but before they even reached their destination, I could feel the heat emanating from her privates. Holy shit, that drug is really something else…

“No—ah, fuck…” her protest was cut short when my hand found its target, the tips of my fingers instantly getting soaked upon pressing against her burning sex.

“Look at this, you’re so wet.”

“Damian—ah, ah, fuck!”

Her hands fell to her sides, her legs spreading further apart, her dress hitching up to her hips, bucking desperately into my fingers as they played with her soaking wet folds. Her eyes fluttered shut, her back arching slightly off the soft mattress, lips parted and head thrown back.

“It must’ve been hard, hiding all of this—” I withdrew my hand, showing Tiffany, whose eyes opened back up as soon as my hands left her, her slick clinging onto my digits, “—huh?”

“Please, Damian. It hurts…”

“It hurts?”

She nodded, her next sentence cut short with another shrill moan as I pushed three digits deep into her sex.

“Fuck, oh my—oh, oh, fuck—”

Her eyes slammed shut again as I pumped the three fingers inside her, curling them against her fleshy, sticky walls. “Does it still hurt?”

The only response Tiffany could give was the string of moans tumbling out of her mouth, squirming and legs tensing at the feeling of my fingers rubbing the fleshy interior of her vagina. The thumb, having nothing else to do, brushed over her labia, activating more of the nerves on the sensitive part of her nethers.

Tiffany communicated her pleasure well, but I could tell she wanted more. Her sighs and moans seemed to be coming out of her mouth in place of words she wanted to say, her hands were lightly placed at her stomach as if unsure if she should pull me further in or push me out, her eyes looked on at me with lust but also with the same desperation that initially drew me in.

“Dam—Damian, I can’t, I need—” she threw her head back again, letting out something between a squeal and a moan as my fingers curled inside her love canal.

Ah, so that’s her G-spot, huh?

“Oh fuck, right there—” she let loose another loud moan as I again curled my fingers into that spot inside her. That one action caused the idol to completely forget about the request she was about to make, her legs subconsciously spreading further as I continued to rub the sensitive spot inside her.

“What did you need?”

“More—fuck Damian, right there, yes!”

“You like that? When I put pressure right there?”

Tiffany’s only response was to scream out in pure ecstasy. I couldn’t help but grin at that, drinking in the delectable sight of Tiffany squirming on the bed, dress hanging onto her body for dear life, long eyelashes shut, full, red lips parted, every bit of her curvaceous body twisting and turning at my every move. Maybe this night wasn’t going as badly as I initially thought it was.

“Yes! More, please, more!”

To add onto the beautiful sight before me was the equally beautiful sound of her begging, her persistent moans, joined only by the occasional squeaking and shaking of the bed. I wondered if we were disturbing any of our neighbors who almost definitely were already asleep, but quickly realized I didn’t care in the slightest.

“I wonder how many times I must’ve saved the world in my previous life to get the chance to do this to such a beauty like you.”

It felt like barely any time had passed, but I could already feel the pussy of the Korean-American celebrity start tightening around my fingers, hear the increasingly erratic panting and moaning from her lips, the wild ferocity with which her legs thrashed and her toes curled: all the telltale signs of an impending orgasm. And while I would’ve loved to claim it was my immaculate skills with my fingers, nothing else but the interference of the drug could reasonably explain her state of near-climax so soon after I started.

“Oh fuck, I didn’t know fingers could feel so good inside me…”

Her voice was breathless, her forehead glistening with sweat, but this time, instead of a visage of pained frustration that she wore while in the club, her face was now etched with that of pure ecstasy.

“I’m close, a little more, please…”

The words came out almost as a breathless whisper, a final plead for release, the strain in her voice, and the lust pouring out from every square inch of Tiffany’s delectable body; seeing a woman squirm and twist as she succumbed to her orgasm was one of the reasons I became so practiced at using my fingers, but with Tiffany, that feeling turned up to eleven. I didn’t want to just see her cum, I wanted to see her completely lose herself. I wanted to see her become a mess, I wanted her to forget her own name as she squirted all over me, the bed, everything.

That was exactly why, in the final moments before her climax, I shoved my face between her legs, exposing her clit with my thumb, surrounded the sensitive nub with my lips, and gave it a firm suck.

The suite erupted with Tiffany’s ecstatic screams, a translucent jet of her ejaculate hitting me square in the jaw. I recovered quickly, lifting my head out from between her legs while letting her ride my fingers as the singer unleashed a beautiful melody of ecstasy and pleasure. I sat there and watched the beautifully erotic sight before me, of her voluptuous body violently shaking and her head pushed as far back into the pillow as it could go and her legs tensing and vibrating as jet after jet of her cum sprayed past my fingers and onto my arms and stomach.

After she pushed past that peak, her screams and moans turned into sighs and whimpers, the last bits of her cum dribbling out of her womanhood like a leaky faucet.

“Look at you, the famous Tiffany Young, well-renowned global superstar, reduced to a sexy mess. What millions of people wouldn’t give to see you squirting so hard, I wonder.” Her eyes landed on the shirt I was wearing, now shining from being drenched with her fluids. “Looks like you owe me two now: one, for that orgasm, and two, for this shirt.”

It took Tiffany a few seconds to recover, a slight shudder running up her body as I extracted my fingers from her soaking wet heat, but when she did, her demeanor changed on a dime. “I’m so sorry,” she answered with a noticeable pout on her lips, shifting into a sitting position and then into a crawl, facing me. “Let me pay you back for that, baby.”

What is going on?

Very clearly, Tiffany’s desperation vanished—or at least, simmered down—but her confident, very intentionally seductive gaze, her low crawl that gave me an eyeful of her ample cleavage and hints at her light-brown areola, her every movement and action oozed of a sex appeal that my erection roared back to life in response to.

“Poor baby, working so hard for mommy’s sake.” Ok, that was something I was … surprisingly fine with?

Fuck, why does this woman fuck with my head so much?

“Does my baby want a reward?”

“I’m—” it had to be my unfamiliarity with this territory, or maybe a better word was discomfort, that gave me a moment of hesitation. “—um, yes, please.”

“Yes please, what?”

I knew where this was going, but resisting seemed meaningless. Rather, resisting it seemed more painful than trying to change her mind. “Yes please, mommy.”

The word felt incredibly foreign on my tongue and was probably noticeable by how awkwardly it tumbled out of my mouth. Thankfully, it didn’t seem to faze Tiffany; whether it was she didn’t mind or because of how clearly lustful she still was, I wasn’t sure of.

“Good boy.”

I watched her from my seated position, legs splayed out towards her while leaning back on my arms that were planted on the slightly tussled blanket of the suite’s bed, as she prowled towards me like a hungry cheetah stalking its prey. Usually, I liked to be the cheetah, but with Tiffany, everything felt different. It just felt so natural to play the prey. Hell, I wanted her to hunt me down.

Wait.

I caught myself with that thought.

What the fuck? Why did I just think that?

It felt so incomprehensible to me, the supernatural phenomenon that was Tiffany’s sex appeal. The lustful gaze in her eyes, the seductive way she carried her sinfully sultry figure, the confidence in her husky voice, the sheer desire and aphrodisia in her every movement, her full, red lips, her large and striking eyes, her ample bust peeking through the ruffled top of her dress, the soft curves of her hips and the wider curve of her romp—was it one of these things, or a combination of all of them? Submitting went against everything I thought I knew about myself, but perhaps the more frightening thing was that I welcomed it.

She stopped while hovering a few inches above me, her eyes directed straight down at my crotch. So, it felt pretty fair to stare slightly down and forward, right into the more-than-eyeful of tits that her tousled top bared to me. I could very easily tell that she was probably a B-cup, but they were somehow infinitely more enchanting than the C-cups and D-cups I was used to.

Maybe I was wrong. Maybe B-cups were great too. Or, maybe it was just Tiffany—maybe it was simply the fact that they were hers that drew my eyes towards them.

“Damian, baby, help me with this?”

I snapped out of the trance I was in, my eyes falling further down and falling on Tiffany, struggling with my belt.

“Sure thing.”

Her brows furrowed, her lips pulling into a pointed frown. “You mean, ‘yes, mommy’.”

“Um—” The reminder of my unfamiliarity with this type of roleplay hit me again, but the thought that this would only be a concern for tonight put my mind a little bit more at ease. “—yes, mommy.”

Shortly after my belt flew off, so too did my pants and boxers, leaving my hardened cock pointed straight at the ceiling of the luxurious hotel room. “Aww, poor baby, were you holding this in the entire time?”

I couldn’t get over the motherly sympathetic tone she was employing nor the slight pout on her lips, nor the strangest thing: how much it turned me on.

What the fuck? Am I secretly a sub?

“Um—” I stuttered, my mind slowly trying to piece together the ‘appropriate’ things to say in our current roleplay, “—y-yes, it hurts so much mommy.” Just saying those words, completely undirected, was so cringe-inducing that I nearly physically reacted to them, but seeing the reward in Tiffany’s face lighting up in reaction to them blew that embarrassment away.

“Does my baby want mommy to give the booboo a kiss?”

I nodded. “Please, mommy, it hurts so much.”

The words weren’t entirely false either; my penis was already pretty stiff from seeing Tiffany cum like that, but experiencing the reality-defying whirlwind of Tiffany’s lustful demeanor stiffened my dick even more, to the point of pain.

“Of course, sweetie.” She hardly waited for my nod in response before lowering her head to my crotch, holding her hair with her left hand while the other rested on my thigh to stabilize herself. My breath hitched as she stopped centimeters from my erect cock, the hot air puffing out from her lips hitting my hardened shaft. “Oh my, my baby has grown really big, hasn’t he?”

I grimaced, my legs tensing as her velvety lips brushed the sensitive tip of my dick. Instantly, a sliver of precum trickled out in response; and, just as quickly, Tiffany’s lips parted, her tongue darting out to collect the fluid. “We can’t be wasting any of that, can we?”

The smile she shot at me following, her lips pulled into an upward curve and her eyes disappearing into crescent moons curved the opposite direction, made me completely forget who I was or what I was doing for a second.

“You have such a beautiful smile.”

It took a few seconds to realize the words had come out of my mouth, but when I did, the realization came too late.

Shit, I forgot again.

I opened my mouth to correct myself, but Tiffany beat me to it. “You’re such a sweetie, Damian. Let mommy give you a reward.” Her left hand left the back of her head, her silky jet-black hair subsequently tumbling down the sides of her head, the fingers of her right hand gingerly wrapping themselves around the circumference of my cock. I let out a hiss as her slim digits enclosed it in a tight embrace, her soft palms caressing its length. And while the feeling of her fingers tightening around my dick was pleasurable in and of itself, the visual made it all the sexier: her strikingly flawless face centimeters away from the object of her adoration, her piercing eyes magnetized to it, her beautiful fingers pressed firmly against the now fully erect penis, her lips slowly parting and the gorgeous sheen of hair framing her face as she began to pump it.

“Fu—” This time, I was able to catch myself before I let loose the swear that was building up inside my throat. “—mommy, that feels so good.”

“I’m glad. Do you mind helping me hold my hair, baby?” I happily obliged, reaching around her to collect the amazingly soft curtain of black surrounding her face and pulling it into a ponytail behind her. “Thank you, baby.”

“You’re welcome, mommy.”

I barely noticed how fluidly the words came out of my mouth until after Tiffany resumed her handjob. But I didn’t have anything to worry about, it was just Tiffany that was making me like this. The pleasure and satisfaction I felt being the more dominant and controlling one with all the other women I’ve fucked was very real. I wasn’t a closet-sub, it was just Tiffany that was fucking with my head.

Right?

“My baby boy really has grown so big, mommy is very proud of you~”

“Thank you, mommy.”

My fists were clenched and my voice came out strained. The handjob she was giving me, in combination with the lascivious visual of her beautiful face placed so close to my dick and the amount of her tits that became visible from the low-cut of her dress hanging down from her position hovering over me, caused something that should’ve been just foreplay to bring me closer to the edge than I would’ve ever expected a simple handjob to be capable of.

“Did you enjoy mommy’s milk from before?”

“Milk?” My eyes again landed on her tits, her already-erect nipples all but visible with the angle she was at. “Oh!” She meant her cum, not from her boobs. It was a shame, too, because almost since I first laid my eyes on her and that more-than-ample cleavage, I was wondering what those puppies would feel like in my hands. And my mouth. “Yes, I did, mommy.”

The knowing grin Tiffany shot in return told me that she was privy to how much I was lusting after her milk jugs, replying, “Do you want more of mommy’s milkies?”

I nodded fervently. “Yes, please.” My haste stemming from impatience resulted in my blowing over my established role, something that didn’t by well with Tiffany. Her eyes furrowing was the catalyst for remembering, leading me to add, “—mommy.”

Her lips curled back up into a content smile. “Then, you’ll have to pay mommy back by giving her your milk too, ok?”

I nodded with equal fervor. “I’ll try my best, mommy.”

She shot me another heart-stopping eye smile. “Good boy.” Her hands left his penis and down to the hem of her dress, tugging at the spaghetti-strap top to no avail. Her smile turned into a frown, becoming more pronounced with each unsuccessful tug of her dress.

Damn it, she’s too drunk after all?

The sobering thought faded to the background when Tiffany decided to change tactics, her hands traveling up her body, her fingers looping around the top of her dress and pulling it down. Her boobs popped out, the bounce from the release of tension after being freed. I felt my eyes glazing over, gaze stopping at the plump, marshmallow-y mounds of flesh sitting on her chest, adorned with light-chocolate colored areola and darker, swollen nipples sitting atop the peaks.

Actually, you know what, B-cups are just as amazing as C-cups or D-cups. I’ve definitely been too picky in the past.

“Damian, help?”

There was something about the cute sight of her pouty visage contrasting with the erotic sight of her bare breasts sitting a few inches below those pouting lips that stirred something within me. The usage of cuteness in bed was something that always turned me off—women who employed it on me in the past have led me to stop everything on more than one occasion—but with Tiffany, it only turned me on more. At this point, I had grown tired of asking myself why this was happening. It was much easier to just accept it and let myself feel my arousal deepen one level still.

What I was shocked by was how long it had taken me to realize Tiffany needed help with her dress, and how I hadn’t offered to help already. “How rude of me—” Shit, that’s not how I’m supposed to be speaking. “—I mean, of course, mommy.”

I had been so distracted by her tits that I had completely disregarded her struggling, disregarded basic bedside manners, in favor of staring at her boobs. But honestly, I felt like I couldn’t even be blamed; even if they were on the smaller side, they were somehow just as sexy, if not more so. The fullness of its shape, the tautness of the skin, the plush appearance of its texture, the purity of its snowy-white color, the contrasting almond-colored areola and the even more contrastingly darker-brown teats standing up and away proudly from her body, how squeezable and bitable the enlarged buttons looked—remembering the roleplay Tiffany had casted us in was the only thing preventing me from jumping on her and ravishing them.

When the dress came off her body, I couldn’t help but find myself enamored with her legs next; they were on the slim side but had clear hints of muscles in her upper thighs, sloping upwards gracefully for what seemed like miles before curving out at her hips. The skin was just as unblemished, taut, and a perfect shade of pearly-white as the rest of her body, with slight hints of bruising on her knees that made my imagination go wild as their origins. Her legs were just as pleasant to touch as they were to look at; as my hands ran over her shins, up to her knees, and up to her thighs, I relished in the addictingly soft texture of her skin. “Your—mommy’s legs are so pretty.”

“Thank you, baby, but if you want mommy’s help, then you’ll have to be patient for a little bit longer.” I nodded, pushing myself back into a sitting position on the bed as Tiffany shifted into a kneeling position, tucking her legs under her thighs. “Come here,” she said, gently patting her lap. I obeyed immediately, turning around and resting my head on her soft thighs, face-up, with the rest of my body splayed out away from her, my legs dangling off the edge of the bed.

Part of me still felt weird obeying the commands of this mysteriously powerful woman, like some kind of needy puppy, but the bigger part of me didn’t care about dignity, shame, what I thought I knew of my own identity, any of it. Was it truly some kind of magnetic power she had, that drew in an dominated the will of any man she wanted, or was I just too lost in my own lust? Or, was there even a difference?

My obedience was rewarded when Tiffany, after seeing that I was sufficiently settled in her lap, leaned down and over me, presenting the object of my desire just moments ago inches away from my face. I craned my head up but was stopped by the woman whose lap my head was laying upon. “Before milkies, promise mommy that Damian will say when his milk is about to come out. Ok?”

“Yes, mommy,” I replied, nodding eagerly to her proposition.

“Good boy. Here you—ah!” Something between a moan and a squeal interrupted her as I took the erect nub into my mouth and rolled my tongue over it. My hands came around, all but sinking into the plush texture of her tits.

Fuck, they’re so soft…

I became so preoccupied with her boobs that I barely noticed Tiffany’s hands snaking down my torso, only aware of the fact when it stopped at the stubbles of my freshly shaven privates. Without warning, the dainty digits of her hand wrapped around my dick, the resulting surge of pleasure causing me to accidentally squeeze her boobs with an unintended amount of extra force.

“Do you like mommy’s boobs?”

I nodded, each pump of her hand sending a surge of pleasure throughout my body, my toes curling in response and my brain slowly but surely filtering out everything else but the feeling of her tits on my lips and hands and the feeling of her hand on my cock. It didn’t take long for her to pick up where she left off with, inching ever closer to the edge of the peak of the climax her hands were pushing me towards. Where her boobs lacked in surface area, she made up for in the quality of the skin and the softness of the mounds of fat. They gave way so easily to my hands and to my lips, but to also hear the slight moans and sighs that would escape from Tiffany’s lips as my tongue drew circles around her areola and rolled across her nipples and my teeth nibbled at the sensitive skin and the swollen teat.

The main source of my impending orgasm, as delectable her tits were, was her hand; they were tireless, barely stopping to rest, her hand pumping the shaft about twice the width of her hand while the other gently patted my head, as if comforting a nursing baby. Occasionally, she would stop to rest by readjusting her grip at the base and cupping my balls before resuming.

“These feel so heavy. Did you save it all up just for mommy?” I nodded again, hoping she didn’t need audial confirmation. Thankfully, she didn’t, resuming shortly after with a, “That makes mommy really happy. Don’t worry, baby, mommy will make sure to take in all of Damian’s hard work and patience.”

It wasn’t much longer after that when I notified Tiffany of my impending orgasm. To my dismay, Tiffany lifted her upper torso up, scooting to edge of the bed that my legs were dangling off of.

“Make sure to give it all to mommy, ok?” I nodded, fighting back the urge to push her head that was already closing in on my dick the rest of the way. “We don’t want to waste any of it, do we?”

“No, mommy.”

“Good boy.”

The moment my cock pierced her lips and sunk into her hot, tight mouth, I just about lost it right then and there. “Agh—” an incoherent mumble-moan escaped my lips, my fingers and toes curling even more than they were already. Inch by inch, the soft membrane of her lips advanced downwards along my shaft. Inch by inch, more of my penis entered the moist cavern of her mouth, and inch by inch, her tongue lined the surface area of my dick with her saliva. “Fuck—” Shit, forgot, no swearing— “—mommy, it feels so good…”

She tiled her head up, eyes shooting a quick smile at me. She barely got halfway down before she came back up for air, her right hand taking over in slathering the rest of the length with her saliva. “Naughty boy, no swearing. I’m afraid mommy will have to punish you later.”

“I’m sorry, mommy…”

In my peripheral vision, I could see her left hand reaching downwards, buried under her legs. However, visual confirmation wasn’t even necessary to know she was fingering herself; the wet sounds of her fingers pressing and pushing against her sex were evidence enough. And while I liked to think that it was the prospect of giving my dick a blowjob that brought her to such a state, the more realistic explanation was that the drug was still affecting her; after all, her face had taken upon a red hue again. However, the difference was that this time, she didn’t have a desperation on her face; this time, it was a deepened state of arousal.

Tiffany dribbled some more saliva onto my cock, proceeding to rub the slightly viscous fluid along the shaft while her red, succulent lips planted kisses along my length. After a while, satisfied with the amount of lubricant on my dick, her right hand reaching down to cup my balls while her tongue pressed against the long-side of my cock, starting from the base and sliding upwards and ending with a smooch at the tip. There was something immensely arousing about seeing her beautiful face in such close proximity to my dick that seemed to almost make her already small face even smaller and seeing the shimmering length of my cock occasionally accidentally tapping her slim jawline that created an impatience inside me. But it was her next words that transformed that impatience to something else. “It feels so big in my mouth, I wonder how I’ll fit this in my pussy…”

The words seemed to be her inner thoughts accidentally spoken out loud, or maybe a mumble that was spoken a notch too loud. Still, no matter how many times I had been told something similar, no matter how many other women had complimented my dick, hearing the words from Tiffany’s lips felt different. I could feel my chest swelling with pride and my lips stretching out into a satisfied smile—sure, it wasn’t the biggest one out there, but in that moment, it certainly felt that way.

Tiffany repeated the action a few more times before transitioning the smooch at the tip to deepthroating.

“Agh—” I stopped myself before I let out another swear, the suddenness of the action nearly causing me to peak right then and there. In one fell swoop, nearly three-quarters of my dick disappeared into her mouth, leaving me desperately clutching onto the thread that kept me from my orgasm. “Mommy—” words became difficult to form, my mind quickly being filled with nothing but the pleasure from the tight ring of her throat pressing against the circumference of my dick in coordination with the masterful work of her tongue dancing around it.

I wanted to revel in the sensation more. I wanted to continue feeling the immeasurably intense pleasure from feeling her lips now tightly pressed against the base of my shaft, from the tightness of her throat, from the wetness and warmth of her masterful tongue, but every passing second unraveled that thread line by line. When she started moving, her head bobbing up and down and her tongue gliding along the length of my shaft, gagging sounds filling the suite and tears cascading down her tightly closed eyes joined only by the increasingly louder moist sounds of her fingers against her slick, the thread I was so desperately clutching suddenly caught fire.

“—mommy—” The words were stuck in my throat, my mind too preoccupied with the Herculean task of holding back my orgasm to be able to form words properly. “—coming!”

The release of the buildup of tension inside my nethers, the release of the burden on my mind in trying to hold back—while both were cathartic, nothing felt better than the explosive release deep in her mouth, the powerful jet of my seed hitting the back of her throat like a water hose. Her cheeks bulged even more, a sound between a gag and a cough erupting from her throat, rapidly blinking away the tears in her eyes as stream after stream poured into her mouth, but not once did she let up. Her lips remained tightly sealed around my cock, her throat flexing impressively as it took on the assault.

When it ended, Tiffany pulled away, her left hand emerged from down south so that the backs of both hands could be used to wipe away the tears that had been collecting in her eyes. “I-I’m sorry, mommy…”

Her eyes blinked open. “What’s wrong?”

“I made mommy cry…”

I had to admit, Tiffany’s acting ability was top-notch. I was pretty good at acting myself, but the motherly concern that overtook her face in the face of my downtrodden, sorrowful expression made me almost believe it was sincere. “No! Aw baby,” she cooed, joining me on the bed and directing my head onto her bosom, “Those weren’t sad tears, those were happy tears! You really are spoiling your mommy so much, giving mommy so much of your tasty milk.”

“R-Really?”

She met my gaze with a happy nod. “Yes! But are you sure you gave mommy everything?”

I nodded. “I really tried my best, mommy.”

She separated herself from me, getting back on her knees at the edge of the bed. “Let’s see if Damian is telling the truth or not~” She slotted herself between my legs once again, and, with one boob in each hand, settled them on either side of my cock.

Even though I could feel the post-orgasm fatigue start to hit, seeing her surround my dick with her ample bust gave me a bit of concern. They weren’t large enough to smother the entirety of my size, but that didn’t stop the last two strands of cum to spill out onto her tits after squeezing them firmly against my cock with her hands, starting at the base and working her way out in a milking fashion.

“Oh, would you look at that.”

“I-I’m sorry, mommy!” The panic in my own voice caught me by surprise. Why was I so immersed in the roleplay? “I-I didn’t mean to! I’ll do better next time!”

Instead of reprimanding me, Tiffany looked up at me with a soft smile, scooping up the viscous bodily fluid and directing it into her mouth. Her luscious, red lips closed around her slim digits, disappearing into that dark cavern only to slide straight back out with a nearly audible pop! “It’s ok baby, as long as you keep your promise next time,” she said, her fingers running over the top of her bust again, making sure to direct every last droplet of my seed into her mouth.

I nodded eagerly. “I will!”

Tiffany smiled, licking her lips with an equal amount of eagerness and content. “Even though it wasn’t everything, it was a lot: feeling Damian’s thick, creamy load filling up my mouth and going down my throat was very nice. Thank you for the treat, baby.”

“It was only because mommy’s soft, pretty lips felt really good.”

“Oh, really?” I nodded. “Do you really like mommy’s soft, pretty lips?” I nodded again, letting her direct me back onto the bed, shifting so that I was properly aligned with it, my head all but sinking into the pillow of the luxurious suite. “Do you want more of mommy’s soft, pretty lips?”

“Can I?”

A giggle escaped from Tiffany, probably from the eagerness in my voice and the starstruck attitude I injected into it. Although, while I could definitively say I was acting, it was also true that my real feelings weren’t far from the character I was portraying. “Of course,” she replied, swinging her legs to the other side of my waist so that they were straddling it, hovering a few inches above me with hands flanking both sides of my head on the pillow. “Come here, baby.”

I didn’t know how it was possible, but her lips felt even better than how they looked or imagined. Impossibly soft, just the right amount of sweet, warm, slightly moist—even other things, like the heat from her face, the creamy texture of her palms caressing the sides of my head, her eyelashes brushing against my closed eyelids, the subtle curves of her voluptuous body pressing against mine, my mind had only the capacity to think and process Tiffany. The stillness of the room only interrupted by the sounds of our lips sensually pressing against and massaging each other, the subtle perfume she was wearing that had mixed slightly with a lingering scent of alcohol, the softness of not only her lips but her entire body firmly wrapped up and tangled in mine, the deep pants for air when she briefly disconnected our lips and the hot puffs of breath that tickled my face, the somehow simultaneously sweet yet seductive smile she shot at me before reconnecting our lips … if someone had asked me my own name in that moment, I probably wouldn’t have been able to answer.

It was after Tiffany’s second breath for air that she prodded my lips with her tongue, a request I readily complied with. While the kiss had already been getting hot and heavy, the action caused an instantaneous spike in its heatedness.

“Mmm…”

The beautiful noise emanating from Tiffany’s throat echoed in the hotel suite, tilting her head and leaning in, her velvety lips massaging mine, her tongue running against mine and brushing against my lips. We kissed—or rather, attempted to devour the other’s lips—with a wild abandon and desperate passion that might make one think our lives depended on it. In that moment, however, that was all that mattered: her curvaceous body shifting and squirming against mine, her lips pressing and moving in concert with mine, her tongue dancing expertly in perfect synchronization with mine. Everything else in the world fell away, even the bed beneath us.

When Tiffany next came up for breath, I could also see the wildness apparent in her actions in her eyes as well. However, it quickly was replaced with a laughter. “Oops, I accidentally gave you some of my lipstick.”

“I don’t mind.”

In the moment, I had become so preoccupied with Tiffany’s lips that I wasn’t aware how hard I had become until Tiffany herself pointed it out. “You’re hard again.”

“So I am.”

“Does baby want another kiss down there?”

She was the one who was asking, but I could tell she was all but ready to do the deed. After all, she had already shifted herself such that my dick was pointed straight at the entrance of her burning core. And, while normally, I might’ve teased the woman who was sharing the bed with me and made her beg, this was Tiffany. Even if the make-out session seemed to also make her forget about the roleplay we were doing for a few seconds, obeying her every command could only be described as second nature. I wanted—I needed—to appease her, to please her, even at the cost of my dignity and pride. “Can mommy do that?”

“Of course!”

“Even though mommy’s lips are up here?”

Tiffany smiled in response. The following question was one that I have been waiting for ever since I decided to play along; but, as eager as I was, I could tell Tiffany was doubly eager for it. “Do you want mommy to show you?”

“Yes!”

No matter how obvious it was that Tiffany was holding herself back, as I could surmise from the loud gasp that escaped her lips when, while her hand directed my penis to her slit, its head poked at it briefly and threatened to enter, she stayed true to her promise and removed it just as quickly. Biting back the grimace and the swear that threatened to fly out of my mouth quickly became the name of the game as her flopping wet vaginal lips pressed against my stiff cock, effectively ‘kissing’ it.

“Agh—”

“Hm? What’s wrong, honey?”

“Mommy…” Edging was a tactic I was very familiar with as I often employed it with the women I fucked, and the results were often amazing. Of course, when I was doing the teasing, I felt the impatience too, but the effort of holding myself back felt worth it in the end. After all, I wasn’t only after the great sex that followed: watching the woman squirm and beg beneath me was just as much of a desired result as the sex itself.

I wondered if these were the thoughts that were going through Tiffany’s head as she continued kissing my dick with her lips down south. “Does it feel good, sweetie?”

I nodded. “Mo-mommy’s lips feel really good…”

I always figured that the person on the receiving side of the edging had it worse, but I didn’t realize the impatience was this much worse. It felt like it was taking every ounce of strength and willpower to not grab her pillowy ass and shove all six-and-a-half inches inside her all at once. However, I could see the impatience on Tiffany’s face too: the same deep shade of red from back when she was trying to force herself onto me in the club overtook her face, her gasps and sighs gradually growing in volume as more and more of my cock became covered with her bodily fluids.

“Oh sweetheart, you feel so big and thick…”

The softness of her thighs that trapped my member, the rolling of her hips that caused her folds, sticky with her own precum, to slide along the length of my shaft, it was all doing wonders for the pleasure and lust that was quickly building with every passing moment. Even the hot puffs of air hitting my face and the pillowy sensation of her boobs pressed against my chest was aiding the process of deepening my arousal; but however much it made me want to slam her against the bed and fuck her into next Tuesday, I resisted. I could see her getting affected too, and it wasn’t before long when her patience, built up from when she first straddled my lap at the bar, finally broke.

“Fuck, mommy needs you so bad Damian…”

“What’s wrong, mommy?”

“Does my Damian want a baby brother or sister?”

Fuck.

Just the implication of the words made my dick twitch. Another rush of anticipation washed over my body, screaming at my muscles to move on the impulse.

Is she implying what I think she’s implying?

“Really?” I could only hope that the spike in my lust and impatience wasn’t present in my voice. “Yeah!”

“Then make sure to cum lots and lots inside mommy, ok?”

She barely gave me any time to respond before grabbing my cock and directing it straight into her pussy.

If it wasn’t abundantly clear how riled up Tiffany was before, the evidence was now screaming in my face—quite literally, in the form of Tiffany’s loud reaction to succumbing to an orgasm from the simple act of inserting barely half of my length inside her.

“Damian’s cock is stretching mommy’s tiny little pussy out so much! Ah, it feels so good, it feels so good!”

The orgasm seemed to only become more intense as it dragged on, the clenching of her vaginal walls against my shaft making it harder to advance. It seemed to suffice for her intents and purposes, riding out her climax with the upper four inches of my cock buried firmly inside her heat, letting loose a string of mewls and loud moans as she did so.

And, watching the spectacle, I couldn’t help but be entirely enraptured. Out of all the women I’ve seen ride out their orgasms on my cock, Tiffany had to be the most arousing, most beautiful woman of them all: even as she screamed, her lips appeared just as full and luscious; even as her face gave in to her lust, it still maintained its mystical beauty; even as her tits jiggled slight in response to her manic bouncing, they looked no less voluminous and perky; even as her legs tensed, the slight muscle definition to her thighs added to their appeal; even as her juices were splattering out of her pussy, the visual of her flopping folds deepened my arousal even more.

“Mom-mommy? Are you ok?” I wasn’t sure how I managed to stay in my ‘role’. Or, maybe, I did know but didn’t want to admit it.

“Sorry, honey,” she replied, her answer coming out as a gasp, her orgasm having finally subsided, “Mommy is fine. What do you think about mommy’s pussy?”

“It—It feels really good, mommy!”

She simply smiled in response, taking a deep breath before pushing the rest of my length inside her. Another slew of moans and sighs exploded from her lips, shuddering in tandem with me as my cock fully hilted her. When she was finally able to calm herself down, she opened her eyes, leaning forward and planting her hands on my chest. “Now’s time for that punishment.”

“Whaat?”

“Be a good boy and accept their punishment, ok? Mommy will give you a reward after.”

“Oh … ok, mommy,” I replied with a reluctantly obedient voice, a pouty voice I probably hadn’t used since I was twelve.

With that, Tiffany shifted her position such that her clit brushed against my groin. The contact alone caused her to gasp, which quickly turned into a moan as she pressed her sensitive nub onto the stubbles of my recently-shaven pubic hair.

“What a good boy, keeping yourself so clean…”

As if the suffocating tightness of her pussy wasn’t enough, as if its blistering heat and the wetness from having been brought to orgasm twice already wasn’t enough, as if the grinding motion she began doing wasn’t enough, the visual of her stimulating her clit by rubbing it against my crotch more than made up for the lack of any stimulation on me. The slight jiggling of her tits as she rocked back and forth, the way her Cupid’s bow lips parted as gasps and moans slipped out of her mouth, the swaying of her silky, jet-black hair in tandem with her movement, the pure and utter ecstasy that deepened with every passing moment etched onto her face … it was all too mesmerizing to notice the passage of time until her hands brushed up against mine, which were lazily laying on her legs.

“Do you mind helping mommy a little?”

The question snapped me back to reality. “Um, of—of course, mommy!”

She slowed down slightly, directing my hands to her bosom. “Damian said he really likes mommy’s boobs, right?” I nodded. “Then, here you go,” she said, placing each hand on one of her boobs, “you can play with them however you want.”

The urge to do so was an urge I was holding back the entire time, having only gotten worse after seeing them swaying so much mere inches from my face, but finally being granted permission to do so unlocked a fervor Tiffany was definitely not expecting.

“Thank you, mommy!”

I pressed my index finger and thumb into her areola, the rest of my fingers resting on the pillowy surface of her tits while they rubbed gentle circles around the sensitive skin. The squirming and moaning from Tiffany increased drastically, shifting one hand to the center of my chest while the other dove down south into the tight connection of her labia against the perimeter of my cock. It was the wet sounds of flesh rubbing against flesh that let me know that she was rubbing the widely spread-open pussy lips that were engulfing the base of my cock, something that turned me on even further.

“Damian…”

Somehow having withstood the temptation of pinching those delectable nipples that sat at the peak of her tits, the tauntingly squeezable nubs swaying to and fro inches from my face, instead electing to build up the suspense by continuing to rub and massage the sensitive skin around it.

“Oh, sweetie, your fingers feel so good…”

“Am I doing well?”

She nodded fervently. “Yes, you’re making mommy very happy, but…”

Tiffany interrupted herself with another moan, a sound that had been gradually turning more and more impatient. “Hm?” I replied innocently, as if I didn’t know the exact cause of her suffering.

“…but you’re also being a very naughty boy right now.”

I completely stopped. “What? What am I doing wrong, mommy?”

Tiffany opened her eyes, managing to shoot me a gentle smile. “Do you see mommy’s big, swollen nipples?”

I redirected my eyes to them, nodding. “Is—Is mommy going to punish me again for being naughty?”

“No, but only if you starting paying more attention to those too.”

“Oh. Ok!” Shortly following those words, both sets of index fingers and thumbs surrounded the engorged, light-brown buttons and squeezed them.

“Oh!” The electrified moan that jetted out her lips mirrored the shock that surged through her system in response, her arms and legs suddenly tensing and her eyes fluttering shut. “More!”

Just watching her succumb to pleasure was reward enough, but the feeling of the velvety, swollen nipple giving way to my fingers and just how enjoyable it was to squeeze them added onto that pleasure tenfold. That seemed the catalyst for everything intensifying: the vigor with which she grinded her clit against the stubbles of pubic hair on my groin, the volume and frequency of her moans, even the wet sounds of her fingers playing with her labia and rubbing the base of my cock that her labia was encircled around. Although the lack of stimulation for me might’ve ordinarily softened my penis, the sheer spectacle of the lascivious lady relishing in the ecstasy that was so clearly written on her face and in her body that I found myself getting more aroused with each passing moment.

Making sure to switch between kneading motions, rolling the erect nub in my fingers, and pinching them, it didn’t feel much longer until Tiffany finally announced her climax. “Oh, oh god, sweetheart, mommy’s cumming!”

This time, her orgasm came out in more gradual waves, like a boiling kettle with water leaking out the top. Tiffany’s mouth didn’t stop the entire time, letting out a noise between a moan, a scream, and a pant, riding out her climax vigorously, her entire body shaking as more and more of her sticky fluids washed over my cock, bits and slivers leaking out after coming down from that peak.

“Oh … oh fuck…”

The minute or so I spent watching her reveling in lust and ecstasy only made me harder, but was thankfully experienced enough to not let it control me, letting her take a few breathers with her head hanging over my chest and her hands planted on my abdomen.

In the minute or so it took for the Korean-American celebrity to recover, I simply watched her regain her bearings, shuddering every so often as a bit more of her juices trickled out of our hot connection. From watching her cum for the second time that night, I was certainly rearing to go again, and it definitely didn’t help that the fleshy, tight walls of Tiffany’s vagina was still squeezing my cock like it was trying to milk it. However much I managed to keep my lust in check, I could feel it slipping by the second.

“Wow … you have a really nice body…”

It was an out-of-character statement, or so the tone of her voice suggested, but I wasn’t about to let it slip away without my reward first. “Mommy, was I a good boy?”

Tiffany seamlessly slipped back into the role, smiling and nodding. “Yes, you were. Mommy promised you a reward if you were a good boy, didn’t she?” I nodded, eyes shining with anticipation. “Do you like mommy’s pussy?”

I nodded again. “It’s so tight, but it feels good.”

Tiffany giggled at that. “Anyone would feel this tight with how big my baby boy is.”

“Oh.”

“Would Damian like to feel better?” I let the excitement I bleed onto my lips. “Would Damian like to cum inside mommy’s pussy?”

This time, my excitement translated into a twitch of my dick. Oh fuck. Was she really letting me do that?

After what has basically amounted to soaking inside Tiffany for the better part of five, maybe ten, minutes, I was raring to have a go at fucking this pussy that has been strangling my cock this entire time. But the prospect of being able to cum inside? That was beyond any fantasy I usually allowed myself to have about my prospective woman for the night. “Yes!”

Tiffany smiled again. “Damian has been such a good boy, I think he deserves his reward.” She wasted no time in pleasantries, lifting her ass off my groin. A sharp breath blew past my teeth, the feeling of her moist vaginal walls gliding along my shaft sending a rolling wave of pleasure throughout my body. And, as quickly as she lifted herself off my dick, she slammed back down, the crisp sound of her plump ass slapping against my damp groin blending in with the groans and moans from both Tiffany and me.

“Ah—” she repeated the action, leaning forward a little more to give herself a better angle to ride me, “—you feel so big inside mommy, honey…”

It didn’t take me long to find her rhythm and match her riding motion with upward thrusts; my hands found themselves planted at her hips, my eyes wandering from watching the wanton expression on her face to watching the slight jiggle of her beautiful tits to watching the up-and-down motion of her labia along my dick, unsure which sight was a more sexually appealing spectacle.

“Shit … you feel so good…”

“Damian, language…” Tiffany’s weak protest fell on deaf ears, all our efforts now focused on the other’s reproductive organ.

Having become lost in my pleasure and watching Tiffany revel in hers, or maybe it was Tiffany fucking with my mind, I hadn’t even realized we had passed the limit of Tiffany’s physical capabilities until I began to notice the increased depth and frequency of her chest’s heaving.

But I wasn’t ready to slow down. Not by a long shot. Not when things were finally starting to heat up.

“Jellybean, I—what are you doing?” Tiffany’s arms buckled as my hands, now placed on her shoulders, pulled her body towards me. “Damian, you’re—” I didn’t listen, Tiffany cutting herself off with a squeal as I flipped our positions on the bed in an instant. From the sparkle in her eye, I could tell the display of physical dominance turned her on. “Damian, you’re being very naughty—”

Even her protest was weak, which only turned weaker as I began pounding her into the bed.

“But isn’t this easier, mommy?”

“Damian, listen to mommy…” the last vestiges of her attempt to maintain her role as the dominant rapidly dwindled to nothing, her own voice even betraying her as a slew of moans erupted from her throat. “Oh, oh god…” Seeing Tiffany start breaking down, especially with how staunchly her stance was in preserving the roleplay, caused a swell of pride and power to balloon inside my chest. The strict ‘mother’, now reduced to a moaning, mewling mess, at the whims of my cock violating every inch of her wanton pussy … in my many years of living and countless women I’ve bedded, few, if any, sights compared in sexiness and how great it felt to know that I was the cause of it.

“See? Isn’t this better?”

Tiffany shook her head slightly, her legs wrapping around my waist. “B-But I was supposed to b-be rewarding you.”

“You are.”

The suffocating tightness was only counteracted by the sheer wetness of her pussy, well-lubricated from her previous three orgasms. Added to that was an overwhelming heat that only added to the heat of our synchronized motion created a symphony of moans, damp skin slapping against each other, the squeaking of the luxurious hotel suite’s bed, and the panting that came between the moans.

“Damian, oh—oh, fuck!”

Tiffany’s moan turned into a high-pitched squeal as my fingers pushed aside her folds to lightly pinch the hardened nub north of our connection.

“You like that?”

“Yes, I—fuck!”

I pinched it again, with a bit more pressure, causing Tiffany’s back to arch well off the bed.

“Hmm, you’re so sexy, Tiff.”

I leaned forward, leaving my fingers at her clit while my lips found hers. While our previous kisses could be described as messy, it didn’t hold a candle to this kiss; it was as wild and sloppy as it was wet and loud, the constant smacking of our lips quickly joining the cacophony of sounds that were echoing throughout the suite.

“Mmm…”

A deep, guttural moan reverberated out from Tiffany’s throat, her lips unrelenting in their counter-assault on mine. The wet, velvety texture of her lips glided against mine, made more difficult by how the force of my thrusts were causing her body to shake, but they never separated for more than a second.

“So desperate…”

I could feel one hand tightly gripping the back of my head and the other, my neck, the tensing of her legs and the continual strings of muffled moans vibrating from her throat reaffirming the two words I managed to gasp out. However, as accusatory as the words were, the same could be said about me: but with how sweet her lips were, and how soft they felt against mine, and how expertly they caressed and rubbed against and massaged my lips, how could I not become so desperate? I was already kissing her, but I still needed more.

“So good…”

My tongue brushed against the entrance to her lips and instantly, was allowed access. Tilting my head for a better angle, I deepened the kiss, feeling the powerful pink muscle in her mouth coming out to meet my own. My nose was nearly poking her cheek, the hot puffs of air on mine telling me hers was in a similar position, the subtle aroma of her subtle perfume wafting into my nose.

Fuck, I’m going to go crazy.

I was thankful I was experienced enough to let my body go on auto-pilot, because I was beginning to feel dizzy with the overload of stimulation from all sources: from her silky legs wrapped around my wait, from her ample boobs pressed against my chest, from her scent being injected through my nostrils, from her vaginal walls gliding along my cock, from her luscious lips pressed firmly against mine, from her tongue dancing expertly around my tongue, from the squirming of her body as my finger continued to tease her clitoris—

I need a short break.

I pulled away, my hips slowing down considerably as I did so. “Sorry Tiff, I need—”

All my concerns for taking a break instantly vanished upon looking at her face: eyelids half-lidded, tongue now lolling out of her parted lips, chest heaving, the lower half of her body spasming at the orgasm that was currently wracking her body.

“I’m—fuck, I can’t—”

Damn, I knew I was good, but I’m not that good. That drug really is something else, huh?

It wasn’t intentional, but taking advantage of Tiffany in the state she was in felt wrong. Maybe Tiffany herself didn’t feel that way—maybe she was in as much ecstasy as she looked to be in—but having brought her to such a state not by my own efforts, but with the help of a drug, made it not as satisfying. I doubted she would’ve have gotten like this if she was with the man who fed her the drug, but knowing it wasn’t all me made me wonder how much of it was me.

“Ah, ah, fuck…”

The Korean-American celebrity gasped, her words breathy and her half-conscious state only marginally improving.

“Are you ok?”

Even after waiting a minute for her to calm down was evidently insufficient, as she continued to shake, albeit less violently. “Sorry, fuck…”

“Language, mommy.”

Tiffany grinned, the continual orgasms that had wracked her body and brought her to the half-conscious state she was in coming to a halt. “Sorry, baby.”

“Looks like you need a break too, with how many times you just came in a row.”

Tiffany’s eyes narrowed, biting the corner of her lower lip in reaction to the flash of lust that passed my eyes. “Not like you minded, you just continued fucking me like I was your personal fleshlight.”

“You’re saying that like you weren’t moaning up a storm, begging for more.”

“Oh, I never said I didn’t mind.”

Those words, the seductive voice she spoke with, and the sexy smirk that followed, nearly blew away all of the restraint I was employing.

Fuck, she’s dangerous.

“What made you stop?”

“Other than seeing your barely-conscious state?”

“Don’t kid yourself, I know it wasn’t me that caused you to stop. Otherwise, you would’ve stopped a long time ago.”

I almost laughed at that. “You almost sound proud of cumming so much.”

Tiffany shrugged. “Nothing to be ashamed of.”

“I was getting overwhelmed.”

Caught off guard, Tiffany’s eyebrows furrowed together. “Hm?”

“The answer to your question,” I responded, “I stopped because I was getting a little overwhelmed. Although it looked like you were a little more overwhelmed than me. Why didn’t you stop me?”

“No reason to. It felt amazing.” I found myself grinning and opened my mouth to reply, but was cut short by Tiffany, “But I couldn’t help but notice: you didn’t cum yet, did you?”

“Did you really want me to fill up your sore, tiny little pussy badly?”

“Don’t you?” I felt my dick twitch in response to that again. Fuck, why is so so— “I already told you, didn’t I? Cum lots and lots inside mommy~” Tiffany’s response, the cuter, higher-pitched tone she used while doing the roleplay, and the suggestive smirk on her face, acted as the final straw that broke my restraint.

My hands went under her thighs and lifted her legs up, a surprised squeal coming out of Tiffany’s lips as I pushed them upwards into a ‘V’ shape. “You asked for this, so don’t blame me for not stopping until I empty my load inside you, mommy.”

“Yeah, fuck!”

The words came out half as a moan and half as a scream, her back arching as I drilled into her from a downward angle. My knees planted firmly into the mattress and my hands tightly gripping her legs as her body shook with the force of my thrusts, I watched as her face quickly gave way to lust. It didn’t take long for her hands to creep onto her chest to start massaging her own breasts, rubbing and kneading the supple skin like playdoh; her lips her parted, eyes closed, head thrown back, every part of her being proudly displaying the ecstasy she was feeling from the strong, rapid thrusts of my cock in and out of her womanhood.

“How badly do you want this?”

“So badly, mommy needs it, mommy needs your cum—ah!” the last bit of her sentence was cut short by a louder moan when the force of my thrusts caused my groin to press up against her clit. I took advantage of the contact, a grin appearing on my face from the mewling mess Tiffany became upon rubbing the sensitive nub.

The telltale signs of her pussy tightening around my cock and the increasing frequency of her moans told me all I needed to know about her next impending orgasm. “You gonna cum again?”

“Yes, fuck, I’m sorry, I can’t help it, my clit, you’re rubbing it so much, and your cock, oh god—oh, god!”

The sexy sight before me only made me want to work harder, of her body violently conceding to the nth orgasm of the night.

“What a naughty mommy, cumming so many times when she was supposed to be giving a reward to her baby boy.”

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” she panted, barely able to formulate complete sentences from the heavy panting that was disabling her articulatory functions.

I didn’t give her any time to recover from her orgasm, continuing at the same speed and ferocity as before. The squeaking of the poor bed returned, the suite soon filled yet again with the combined sounds of our moans, my balls slapping her wet labia, and that noise, amplified more this time by the additional strength the position allowed me to use.

“God, fuck, it’s too much—!”

It wasn’t so much of me letting her ride out her orgasm as much as it was me chasing after my own. The buildup after all this time, the anticipation from the first time I laid my eyes on her and reigniting when she came onto me strongly in the club, was all coming to a head in every thrust that smashed the tip of my cock against her cervix.

I had a pretty good imagination, but actually fucking her was a million times better than any fantasy I had. Her perfect, beautiful visage ruined by the tongue nearly lolling out of her mouth, her stunning eyes rolled to the back of her head, her flawless, pale skin dotted with beads of sweat, her silky, jet-black hair strewn all over the blanket, all in a lecherous display before me. That wasn’t even to mention her beautiful voice screaming out in ecstasy, her soaking wet yet simultaneously suffocatingly tight pussy massaging the length of my cock as it glided along its walls, every thrust causing a spurt of her juices to land on my growingly damp groin, even the silky-smooth feeling of her tensing thighs in my left hand that defeated the vision I had looking at her.

“You love my cock so much, don’t you?”

With how much of my penis I was withdrawing from her entrance, it was only a matter of time before it slipped out; when it did, I held her thighs with my elbow while directing the drenched rod back inside her, another moan erupting from Tiffany’s lips.

“Yes~” the force used to fully sheath myself back inside her caused the fat on her ass to reverberate, her body jerking upwards in reaction to my vigor, “I love it so much, fuck!”

I took advantage of my hand’s position to reach between her folds and pinched her clit, causing another string of high-pitched moans to echo throughout the bedroom. “Does mommy really want another baby?”

She nodded frantically, yet another impending orgasm causing her to twist and squirm around. “Yes! Please!”

I desperately held my climax back, wanting to indulge in this moment for as long as I could withstand it, but everything was working against me: the sight of Tiffany reveling in her pleasure, the feeling of her body intertwined within mine, the beautiful melodies of moans and screams that continually flew out her lips, even the smell of sex that was gradually taking over my nostrils. “You’re a really slutty mommy, wanting to feel her baby’s cum fill up every crevice of her naughty little pussy, aren’t you?”

“Ye—Yes—Yes!” Tiffany, barely able to formulate words at this point, could only scream out the one word in agreement, the climax that took over her body shortly after turning her into a moaning, screaming mess.

I barely had time to let out a warning yell before my own climax took over, giving her clit one last firm pinch before feeling the tension inside my nethers untangle all at once.

“Fuck, it’s so hot!”

“Here’s your baby you wanted to much, mommy.” My right hand quickly went back to her thighs, holding onto them with both hands for leverage, using her orgasming pussy to ride out my own orgasm, each thrust pushing in the torrent of the sticky substance deep inside the singer’s womb.

“More, please, more!”

The combined climaxes and the resulting creampie brewing inside her evidently extended her stay at her peak, her ability to stay still rendered completely inert by her pleasure sending tidal wave after tidal wave of ecstasy throughout her entire body.

“Ugh, shit,” I grunted, feeling the last few strands of my seed being milked out by the convulsing, fleshy walls of her baby canal.

The following minute was filled with nothing but the sounds of our deep pants, me taking a minute to rest before letting her legs fall back onto the bed.

“Damian…”

“Hm?”

I looked up to see Tiffany beckoning for me. I obediently leaned forward, letting her hands wrap around my head and pull me down into another kiss. A pleased moan vibrated inside my throat, the feeling of her lips rubbing and massaging mine and her ample bosom smooshed against my chest barely able to fight against the refractory period softening my penis still inside her. She let me go after a few seconds, a lazy smirk on her lips. “Thanks, that was amazing. But, you’re still hard?”

I definitely had the stamina to go another round or two, but just a glance at the drooping eyes of Tiffany told me all I needed about what kind of a person she was: in her heart of hearts, a people pleaser.

I shook my head, only to be met with an indignant, “Yes you are, I can still feel how hard you are inside me.”

“Tiff, I think it’s best that we stop.”

“Huh?”

For all the ways the existence of Tiffany fucked with my mind, I was glad this part of me remained unchanged. “Look, you’re struggling to stay awake.”

“No, I—”

“It’s ok, we can continue next morning if you’re up for it.”

She adamantly shook her head, her lips forming into a pout. “I’m fine, you can keep fucking me if I fall asleep.”

Being too exhausted to resist, I had little issue removing her legs that had wrapped around my waist and pulled out of her. A shudder ran up her spine that escaped out her mouth as I did so, a stream of fluids leaking out of her red and battered hole. “Let’s clean you up first, don’t want any UTIs or anything.”

Tiffany continued to pout but obliged, letting me carry her to the bathroom to wash her privates. “Do you have any Plan B pills with you?”

She nodded. “In my purse.”

After feeding the pills to her, I finished drying her up before plopping her back in bed, under the covers. However, before I could leave, I was stopped by her hand, shooting out from under the blanket and grabbing my wrist.

“Don’t go.”

I turned back around in shock, as it seemed like Tiffany’s eyes had already closed when I pulled the blanket over her.

“I’m only going to the bathroom.”

Ordinarily, I would’ve had no problem staying the night with her, but not when it came to celebrities. In those cases, I usually opted to slip out the same night, not wanting to cause a scene or any problematic news articles. Doing so has only backfired once, and even then, the model came to understand my intentions after explaining them to her.

“You already tried that on me, remember?”

Damn it. Why didn’t I turn around when I said that?

“It’s better if I leave now, isn’t it?”

She frowned pointedly at that. “Why?”

My brows furrowed, pursing my lips in confusion. “Well, because you’re a celebrity, and you don’t want to be caught leaving a hotel with a man?”

“We can just leave at different times.” There was no denying that, but still, I didn’t want to take any risks when I didn’t have to. “Plus, you promised me, didn’t you?”

“Hm?”

“That we’d continue tomorrow morning.”

I sighed, the twitching of my mostly-flaccid cock catching the attention of Tiffany, who giggled at the sight. “Are you going to insist that I stay?”

She nodded. “Please?”

As much of an admitted playboy I was, the pleading eyes of a beautiful woman was something I had little resistance to; and when that beautiful woman was Tiffany, the queen of being able to bend me to her will, that resistance all but crumbled.

“I really can’t win against you, can I?”

The smile on my face transferred to Tiffany, who opened the blanket covers, scooting over and patting the space she made for me. “Come to mommy~”

I obliged, slipping under the covers with her and letting her wrap her arms around mine, pulling them against her naked breasts, and resting her head against my bare shoulder. While I had no problems with her snuggling up to me like that, I couldn’t help but become a little concerned. “Is that comfortable?”

With her eyes still closed, she replied, “If I don’t do this, you’ll run away after I fall asleep, won’t you?”

I found myself smiling. It was an option I was holding onto in the back of my mind, but Tiffany seemed to be too thorough to let me do that. “Busted.”

She smiled back. “Good night.”

“Good night.”

By the time I repeated the words to her, she had already fallen asleep, and not too long after, so did I.

[oracle-of-dream]

Frame by Frame

Minors DNI

Summary: Your brother Jay invited his friend Sunghoon over to spend the night at the house. The three of you had mostly grown up together, so you knew him pretty well. Something's off with him... he keeps looking at you.

Warnings: Male Reader, Muscle Kink, Rough Sex, Brother's Best friend, Breeding, Spit play, Pet names (Baby), Soft Dom Sunghoon, Sunghoon has a big dick, Aftercare, Jaywon (briefly)

Wordcount: 3.5k

You woke up from a midday nap to the smell of food being cooked downstairs. The Sun was still shining into your window, but you could tell it was the afternoon by its dark orange color.

Climbing out of bed, you remembered your parents said they'd be out of town for the week. Probably because it was spring break for you, and they didn't want to be around when both their kids would be home again. They were way too happy to send you and your brother off to college...

You put on some sort of t-shirt before leaving your room to investigate the kitchen. There were two voices; one was Jay, your brother. The other was Sunghoon, his best friend since you were five years old. Sunghoon and Jay went everywhere together. To the movies, the gym, cafes, and even the same college too. It really felt like they were dating each other with how much Sunghoon was around, even if your parents treated him like another kid.

Stepping into the kitchen, you saw Sunghoon in a sleeveless red shirt with gray sweatpants. Jay was wearing something similar in green and black. They probably just came back from the gym. Jay had shouted something about it before you'd fallen asleep.

"It smells good. What's on the menu today, chef?" You smiled at your brother the way you did when you needed something from him.

"If you do the dishes after dinner, then it's a tomato bruschetta with salmon," Jay replied without looking up at you.

"What!? Why do I have to do the dishes?"

"You want to eat the food I'm working hard to make, then you have to contribute."

You rolled your eyes. "You hate the way I wash the dishes, you always say it's not done right and end up doing them anyway–and what about Sunghoon? He's eating too, so he has to do the dishes!"

Sunghoon was about to protest but Jay beat him to it. "Fine. Both of you start washing these dishes. If it's not clean by the time I'm done, then the dog is eating really well tonight."

Sunghoon didn't bother arguing. "I wash, you dry?" He asked while handing you a clean rag.

Your stomach was too empty to think of a good argument about why Sunghoon was the person who should do everything. "Fine," You snatched the rag from him and lifted yourself onto the counter to sit. For the next ten minutes, you dried the dishes as he handed them to you. Your mind wandered, thinking about how hungry you were. You looked over at Sunghoon washing the dishes, his huge biceps flexing as he worked over every dish. He'd been going to the gym as much as Jay, but he always had a better shape than him. His arms were incredible, his shoulders also pretty broad, and his side profile wasn't half bad either... He definitely wasn't the kid you'd grown up with anymore.

You were snapped out of your thoughts by Sunghoon's eyes looking over at you, catching you staring at him.

"Y/n, you alright?"

"Y–Yeah, just still a little drowsy..."

Jay finished making the food and started planting the table. "Did you really sleep all day, y/n?"

"How'd you guess?"

"Those are the same pajamas you've been wearing for the past two days..." He dryly replied.

"Well–What did you do today, Jay?"

"I cleaned the house, got groceries, picked up Sunghoon, and then we went to the gym. Then we came back here and I cooked for the entire house."

"Three people, but okay... that's supposed to be a break and you're working like a house husband!"

Jay picked up the plate sitting at your place at the table. "So, that's a no to the food?"

"Okay–Let's not get out of hand. You started it."

"That's what I thought," Jay set your plate down and returned to his seat. He waited for you and Sunghoon to finish the dishes and join him. Dinner was pancakes, eggs, bacon, sausages, with a bowl of fruit. Jay knew you loved breakfast for dinner, and it was all prepared and set to perfection.

You all eat together, not talking very much as you focus on the food. Sunghoon was wolfing the food down like usual, making a mess.

"Hey, you're going to get food on the floor!" You pushed him slightly, "I'm not cleaning the floor if you make a mess."

He replied with a mouth full of food, "Relax, Mom!" Sunghoon has egg on his face and crumbs on his shirt.

You pinched the egg off his face and tossed it to the dog to eat. But when you looked back at Sunghoon, he was staring at you.

"What? Were you gonna eat that?" You asked.

He shook his head, "No, it's nothing."

The air hung heavy between you. Sunghoon has been acting like that sometimes around you, creating some sort of tension between you. But you couldn't think of what you could've done to make him bothered by you. He was fine earlier...

Jay cut through the silence. "Well. Sunghoon, are you still staying the night?"

Sunghoon nodded. More invested in the food now, even though his plate was almost empty.

Jay turned to you, "Y/n, you doing anything tonight? We can all hang out if you want."

You shrugged. "I don't think I've got anything for me. So I'll be around."

The three of you continued dinner without much extra conversation. You went back to your room, Jay started washing the dishes from dinner, and Sunghoon stayed in the kitchen to talk to Jay.

You watched some TikToks in your room until you got a text from Sunghoon.

SH: Hey...

You sat up in bed so you could give it more attention. Why would he put the ... in there?

YN: What's up?

SH: I hope I didn't make you upset earlier. About the dishes. You were kinda giving me daggers, so I just wanted to make sure we're cool.

YN: Of course! I didn't mean to look upset, I was just thinking.

SH: What, about?

YN: Random stuff, I can't even really remember it now...

You knew you couldn't just say, "Oh I was thinking about how good you've been looking these days. Great gains, bro!" You needed to play it cool.

SH: Oh, okay. Can I get your thoughts on something?

Your heart raced, just for a moment.

YN: What is it?

SH: What do you think about this, hot or not? Jay says not.

You stared at the picture of Sunghoon in the gym's locker room. You tried not to laugh at his expression.

YN: I think you could work on your expression. Try smiling or something. Most guys just focus on showing their body rather than their face at the gym anyway.

There was a pause in the messages. Sunghoon didn't reply for a full five minutes...

SH: What about these?

YN: Sunghoon, why do you need me to tell you if you look good? You've always been the most handsome out of you, me, and Jay.

SH: Well, Jay won't even look at them. But it's good to know you think I'm good-looking.

You blushed and scoffed at your phone... You couldn't tell if he knew what he was doing to you. Your body was going crazy.

YN: Well, whatever. I think the photos are all fine.

SH: Last one.

You braced yourself for another sleeveless selfie, but what you got was way better.

You almost dropped your phone when you saw him shirtless. He was absolutely doing it on purpose. Making sure not to actually show you anything, just some collarbone.

SH: Thoughts?

YN: Yep, still looks good.

SH: Well, you can send me photos too. Let me rate you.

You caught a look of yourself in the reflection of your phone. You looked more than a little rough.

YN: Um, I don't really have photos...

SH: Then should we fix that? I can take some photos for you.

YN: Why do I need pictures?

SH: ...I dunno. It just felt fair, since I forced you to look at me. I should look at you too.

You thought about sending Sunghoon photos of yourself. What kind of photos would he even want?

YN: What kinda photos are we talking about?

SH: Anything, I'm just here to help. Just like you did for me.

You spent almost twenty minutes trying to find a photo that seemed decent enough to send. Changing your outfit, messing with your hair, cleaning your room a little bit. You settled on a candid photo of you reading a book in some loose-fitting clothes. Your shirt was almost falling off your shoulders, and your shorts barely peeked out to show you were wearing any. You sent it to Sunghoon and waited anxiously for his response.

SH: Looks good.

You frowned at his response. You really look all the time just to get that kind of response from him... You tossed your phone away from you and went to the living room to find Jay and Sunghoon. Both were sitting on the couch, using their phones. But as soon as you walked in, Sunghoon tucked his phone.

"I'm gonna hit the bathroom really quick." He said as he brushed past you.

Jay didn't acknowledge it, but you sure did. Sunghoon was acting weird again.

"Jay, have you noticed anything about Sunghoon lately?"

He shook his head. "Nope. Same old Sunghoon."

You scoffed at your brother. "Since when have you been so uncaring?"

"And since when did you care so much?" Jay raised an eyebrow as he looked up from his phone.

"Never!" You turned and stormed off from Jay. Clearly, he wasn't going to be helpful, so you needed to get to the bottom of things yourself. As soon as you got into the hallway of the bathroom, you could see the light was on, but the door was barely open. The bathroom door got messed up when Jay closed the door too hard, making it difficult to keep the door shut. A small push could open it. But Sunghoon didn't know that. You moved forward to pull it closed, but then heard Sunghoon breathing heavily.

You leaned closer to the door to listen.

"...Jeez. You're so beautiful. Y/n, holy fuck." Sunghoon softly moaned.

You moved to peek through the crack. Sunghoon was jerking himself to something on his phone, moaning your name. You didn't realize you were holding your breath watching him. His hand stroked quickly, his hair bounced lightly, and his mouth hung open with his eyes squeezed shut. His thick arms pulsed, and his veins popped. His legs shook and shifted in pleasure. You inched closer to get a better look at Sunghoon's phone, but accidentally touched the door which creaked slightly and scared Sunghoon.

"Y–Y/N! I–" Sunghoon scrambled to cover himself but he dropped his phone while doing it. His phone landed face up, showing what he was masturbating to; the photo of yourself you'd sent earlier...

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to walk here..." You said as you turned around and shut the door.

There was shuffling, and then the door opened. Sunghoon's face was wracked with guilt. "Y/n, I'm sorry. I..." His voice trailed off, not knowing what to say.

You turned to him. "Be honest."

He gulped before opening his mouth to answer. "I–I'm really into you, y/n. I've been like this for a while... And, I get it if you're not interested in me."

You stepped forward and kissed his cheek, leaving him dumbfounded. "Come to my room tonight. Wait till Jay's asleep." You walked off toward your room without waiting for his response. You couldn't look him in the face after what you'd seen. All you could think about was his dick and the expression he was making, replaying again and again in your mind. You stayed in your room for the rest of the night, and when Jay knocked on your door to check on you, you told Jay that you didn't want to hang out anymore.

Around midnight, the house had fallen asleep except for you. Your heart nearly jumped out of your chest when you heard a soft knock at the door.

"Y/n? It's me." Sunghoon whispered through the door.

You opened the door and let Sung Hoon in. You sat down on your bed, and he sat down on the far end of it, awkwardly looking at you in the low light of the moon that dripped in from your window.

"I've already seen it, so you can't be awkward with me now." You stated, trying to start the conversation.

"I know... I just didn't want you to find out like that. It's embarrassing." He scratched his head. "You just looked so good in that picture. The moment I saw it, it was hard. And then I saw you in person. I needed to deal with it."

You shifted a little closer to him. "Well, you were sending those pictures first. I was just following your lead."

"I wasn't trying to be sexy in the pictures..."

"Well, you're bad at not being sexy. And, why would you send that shirtless one if you weren't making a pass at me."

Sunghoon's ears went pink. "Well–Maybe I was fishing a little. But I didn't think you'd send anything back to me."

"So it's my fault?"

He turned to you. "No! I didn't mean it like that. I meant–" Sunghoon couldn't finish his sentence as he watched you unbutton your shirt.

"What? Aren't you going to get undressed?"

Sunghoon looked away from you. "Wait, what's actually happening right now?"

You shyly started putting your shirt back on. "I thought you came so we could... have sex. Or something. That was dumb, I'm sorry–"

Sunghoon knelt down in front of you and stopped your hands. "No, it's not dumb. I liked it. I was just thrown for a second. We can do that if you want. But I want to take it off you if you'll let me."

You let your hands rest, Sunghoon slowly stripped off your shirt, touching you gently, caressing your skin, and breathing in your scent deeply as he did. Once your shirt was off, he tossed his aside roughly, revealing his muscular torso to you. You automatically looked away, but he sweetly pulled your chin to face him.

"You can touch me, y/n." He spoke with softness in his voice and looked up at you with warm eyes.

You placed a hand on his shoulder. It was stiff and strong. You traced his muscles down his arm until your hands met his and locked into his fingers.

"We'll go however far you want, y/n. Whatever you want, I'm all yours." He kissed your hand.

"Can you call me baby?"

He chuckled. "Baby."

Your heart fluttered at his deep voice calling out to you.

"Baby, can I touch you?"

You nod.

Sunghoon uses his other hand to wrap around your waist and lift you off the bed, moving you so he'd sit on the bed and you on his lap. "Is this okay?" He slightly leaned in for a kiss, pausing for your consent.

You nod again. Leaning in to meet him.

Sunghoon's hands traced your chest before landing on your hips. Your hands traveled up his waist and stopped at his neck as the two of you made out. Every time you moaned Sunghoon would pull you closer to him, squeezing you slightly. You could feel him slowly grinding into you, his hips lurching upward for just a moment of sensation. You arch your back, laying your ass down to meet him, earning a groan from him.

"Keep doing that, baby." He moaned into the kiss.

You pulled away from the kiss. "We can keep moving forward."

Sunghoon lets you climb off of him. The both of you face away from one another as you toss aside your pants and underwear, leaving you both naked.

You felt a little too exposed. "Actually, can I have my shirt back?

Sunghoon handed it to you, and you took it without looking back at him. You slipped it on but left it unbuttoned and open. Slowly, you turned around to let him see you.

"You look amazing with it on. Good call." He complimented.

You blushed at his compliment and lay on the bed. "Are you coming?"

Sunghoon crawled onto the bed, positioning himself over you. "Are you prepared, or do you need me to do it?"

You covered your face. "Don't ask embarrassing questions. Just check if it's enough for you."

Sunghoon smiled. "Will you lick my fingers?"

You moved your hands just enough to show your mouth and let it open. He delicately placed his fingers on your tongue and let you work them over, tossing and turning them. You got them so wet that they were dripping as he took them out.

"Jesus, that's hot." Sunghoon put them in his mouth.

"Hoon–" He then slipped two fingers into you, making you cover your mouth so you didn't slip out any loud noises.

Sunghoon pushed and pulled softly, searching around and bending his fingers. When he found your spot, he felt you suddenly squeeze his fingers. "There it is. Now, I know where to aim."

You were starting to drool with all the foreplay. Or maybe it was an overexcited thing. Either way, Sunghoon noticed and licked your cheek, drinking your spit.

"We're going to start now. Anything you need to do?" He asked one more time for your consent.

"I've been waiting for you to get to it..." You muttered.

"Oh, baby, are you getting impatient?" He teased me.

You didn't answer and Sunghoon lined himself with your hole before slowly sliding his length inside you. You held the sheets of the bed, trying to control your noises as he filled you. He was so big, and every vein and twitch felt like an explosion inside of you. You struggled to stay still while you got used to him.

"You can do it, baby."

You moaned. "Seven inches is more than I've had before..."

"Did you count my inches with your hole? How lewd." Sunghoon chuckled. "And, we're not done yet."

Your mouth twitched a smile. "Just put it all in then."

Sunghoon put his hands on either side of your hips and pulled up into him, putting the last two inches into you.

"Nine!?" You almost screamed.

"Maybe it's 9.5, but who's counting? Now, stay quiet, or Jay will wake up." He leaned down to you, sliding his hand under your head. "Bite me if you need to."

You thought you didn't need to until you felt his hips move, and then your mouth instantly fixed itself to Sunghoon's collar. He groaned as he started moving slowly but picked up the pace when you moaned. Your thighs were raised, and your legs were around his waist, shaking as Sunghoon pulled you into him to meet his thrusts. You could feel Sunghoon's muscles moving and tensing as he controlled your body. He leaned back to see his work on you and caught you staring at his chest. His pecs were so big and bounced with every thrust.

"Oh? Does Baby like my chest? Wanna touch it?"

You nodded breathlessly.

Sunghoon leaned back down for you to touch them comfortably.

You squeeze them, pinching on his nipples. You were mesmerized by them.

"Since you like them so much, I'll keep them nice and big for you, okay?" Sunghood cool to you.

"O–Okay." You moaned as you held his pecs in your hands, kneading them roughly. The sensations were so intense you didn't even notice you'd already finished once, cum painting your stomach.

Sunghoon's thrusts got sloppier, losing their rhythm as his moans got shakier.

"I'm almost there, baby, hold on a little longer." He growled, hitting a few more times before his cum spilled into you. Which makes you cum again, painting yourself with more ropes of white. Sunghoon rode out his high, thrusting a few more times before pulling out. Cum spilling out of you, onto the bed.

Your body shook and convulsed every few seconds from the rush. You were a sticky mess, and Sunghoon took care of everything. He went into the bathroom and got you hot towels to clean you. And then he carried you to your bathroom so you could do your business. While you took care of yourself on the toilet, Sunghoon changed the sheets and waited for you to come out of the bathroom with new pajamas ready.

Sunghoon tucked you under the covers. "Goodnight, baby, I'll see you in the morning." He got under the covers with you to cuddle you.

You grabbed his arm. "You're not leaving? What about Jay?"

Sunghoon laughed. "He knows. I talked to him. He should be at Jungwon's house right now doing the same as us."

"Why would you tell him–Jungwon!? They're a thing!?"

"Since forever. And Jay's known for ages that I've liked you. After I talked to him about what happened, he chewed me out for being a pervert and jerking off in the house, but he gave me his blessing. So we don't need to worry about him~"

The two of you cuddled together for the night. You drifted to sleep to the sound of Sunghoon's heartbeat, plotting about your next morning...

[bpmiranda]

It Could Be II |l. howlett|

A/N: so much angst, fluffy, protective!logan, boxer!logan, sweet!reader, mentions of cheating, mutual pining, suggestive content

It Could Be

That one night, not too long ago…

It was late and Logan was the last person left in the gym, which wasn’t unusual. There weren’t too many places where he could be nowadays as he was always trying to keep a low profile. While he was beating hard on a standing bag in the ring, grunting softly with the contact he made, the gym door opened. Logan recognized her scent before he turned to see her coming in with an annoyed expression on her face instead of her usually happy demeanor, and he immediately knew what was bothering her. “Hey, baby,” Logan greeted her with a grin, forgetting about the swaying bag until it bounced back and softly shoved him. A light giggle left her lips as she shook her head at him and he leaned onto the ropes to look down at her. “Come to see me?” He asked shamelessly and she felt her cheeks warm up.

“It’s always a pleasure to see you, Logan,” She said, holding onto the ropes and looking up at him, her eyes sad even though she was doing her best to put on a smile for him. “I’m actually looking for Adam. We were supposed to meet for dinner, but he didn’t show.” Her teeth chewed softly on her bottom lip as his expression changed, and she knew he knew something. “Have you seen him today?” She asked.

Logan gave her a sympathetic look as he shook his head. “No, sweetheart, I haven’t.” He said and she nodded slowly, looking away from him and at her hands in front of her as they wrung anxiously around the thick ropes. “Can I take you out to dinner?” He asked and she looked at him skeptically. “As friends.” He added, lifting up his gloved hands defensively and she laughed. Her laugh sounded like a song, it stuck in his head the rest of the night. “Come on, I hate the thought of you eating by yourself and I’m starving.”

“Okay, I’ll go to dinner with you. As friends.” She grinned, not yet forgetting about her boyfriend and the fact that he was probably with someone else. Why shouldn’t she do the same?

They walked arm in arm to a restaurant on the corner of the street. They ordered drinks and shared their plates, Logan made her laugh because he simply had to hear the melodic tune again, and she stopped feeling sad. Her sides were aching faintly from laughing, her cheeks tight from the way he constantly made her smile and feel shy. “I like you better like this.” Logan commented as he took a swig of his beer, watching her sip her cocktail with a smile.

“Like how?” She asked, resting her chin on her palm as she looked at him, the buzzing in her head telling of how tipsy she was now.

Logan moistened his lips as he dipped the mouth of his bottle towards her. “Happy.” He shrugged lightly. “You just don’t seem very happy when you’re with Adam lately.” Her smile fell only a little bit and she cleared her throat. “I don’t mean to talk shit about him. He’s a good buddy of mine. I just hate to see you so upset over his dumbass.”

There was that laugh again. Logan could feel his cock throb at the sound, the sight of her smile, how she seemed so relaxed with him. “He is a little aggravating,” She said, finishing her drink and raking her fingers through her hair as she sighed. “We’ve just been together for so long. I always thought it would be me and him in the end.” She murmured, looking down at her lap and feeling her eyes well with hot tears. “I can’t help it. I love him.”

Logan wanted so badly to tell her to forget about him. To be with him instead because he’d never make her cry, not unless it was from laughing too hard, fucking her too well. But she was hurting and this clearly wasn’t the right time. “Lovable bastard.” He chuckled and she laughed, making him grin. “C’mon, let’s get you home.”

They hailed a cab outside of the restaurant and Logan was intending to let her take it, but she insisted they ride together. “I don’t want to be alone right now.” She whispered as she stood between him and the open backseat of the car. Logan looked down at her, his green eyes soft and yearning, and she lightly touched his waist. “Yeah?”

Logan nodded, unconsciously leaning down and stopping himself before he kissed her. “Yeah.”

Her apartment smelled just like her. Logan felt dizzy, maybe from the drinks he had, but definitely from the sweet scent of her. They stumbled slowly into her living room and Logan caught her before she tripped over the leg of her coffee table, she laughed softly, covering her mouth with her hand while the other held onto his arm. The smell of him invigorated her senses as he held her close, smiling down at her and making her cheeks grow warm. “I wish it was always this easy.” She whispered, standing up in his arms on her toes and smoothing her hands over his chest where her eyes fell on the silver plaque around his neck.

“It should be, baby,” Logan murmured, watching her as if she were a fawn, careful not to make any sudden movements out of fear that he might scare her away. Her delicate fingers picked up his tag and she ran her thumb slowly over his name plate before her eyes looked back up into his green ones, so soft and filled with love as he stared down at her. “It could be.” His lips then closed around hers and she whimpered, kissing him back as he pressed her into him with the hand on her back, the other came down to her hip where his thumb drew small circles.

Her hand wrapped around his chain and she gently tugged him down as she had to plant her feet, not wanting to break the kiss due to their height difference. Logan leaned down into her, took a step forward, and turned her around so he could sit on her couch and bring her onto his lap. His hands moved up her jean clad thighs, squeezing her hips softly as they made out quietly, as if someone would hear them and catch them in the act. “Logan,” She breathed out, her mind cloudy from the drinks and the kiss, this kiss that shouldn’t be happening. Regardless, she was thinking only about how soft his lips were and how nice it felt to be in his protective hold, to be given attention. His strong arms enclosed her possessively, his warm and built chest rising and falling underneath her palms with his heavy breathing. Logan couldn’t help but feel on her body, feel every plush curve and line that defined her shape. The feeling of her thighs on his lap drove him wild with want and he slowly ran his hands up her waist, his thumbs gently rubbed over her breasts and she shuddered from his soft touch. “We shouldn’t.”

“Then let’s not.” He mumbled, kissing her jaw now as he continued and she didn’t stop him. “Let’s not do it if it’s wrong or if you’re too drunk,” His lips moved against her neck and she moaned softly, clutching tightly onto his shoulders as his fingers slipped underneath the hem of her blouse. “But if you want to, and if you’ll let me take responsibility for this, we should.” He whispered, pulling away and looking at her with pleading eyes, his hands underneath her blouse and feeling on the soft skin of her lower back and her belly.

To her surprise - and his - she nodded, breathless as she said, “I’m not too drunk.”

Logan was about to remove her blouse when there was a sudden knocking on her apartment door and they heard Adam’s voice coming from the hallway. “Y/N, let me in, sweet pea!” He called and she sighed, resting her forehead against Logan’s and closing her eyes as he pulled her blouse back down.

They sat there for a moment, contemplating their choices, until Logan decided he didn’t want to put her in an awkward position. “Probably for the best.” He whispered and she pulled back to look at him curiously. “I don’t perform as well when I’ve been drinking.” He teased and she giggled softly, wiping her lip color off his bottom lip with her thumb and nodding appreciatively because she couldn’t possibly make a choice like this right now.

“Thanks for being with me tonight.” She said as she got off his lap and fixed her hair while he stood directly in front of her and leaned down to her ear.

“Thank you for going out with me.” He said, inhaling her scent once more and kissing her cheek.

Logan stood behind her as she opened the door and Adam grinned when he saw them. “Hey man, thanks for keeping her company.” He said as he clapped Logan on the shoulder while walking past the two of them into her apartment. Logan scoffed dryly, shaking his head as he stepped out into the hall and then he turned back to her.

“You going to be okay?” He asked and she nodded with her head leaning against the door as she held onto the knob.

“We’ll probably just fight,” She mumbled, shrugging lightly. “You’ve seen him box.” She joked and he chuckled, nodding while scratching the back of his head as he started walking away.

“Goodnight, baby.” He winked at her, making her smile shyly.

“Goodnight, Lo.”

🥊🥊🥊🥊🥊🥊🥊🥊🥊🥊🥊🥊🥊🥊🥊🥊🥊🥊

Kind readers, I literally dreamed the second chapter last night and simply had to post it today. I apologize for the angst🫣

It Could Be III

🏷️: @dontfeedthebigbadwolf @peterparkernotfound @httpsells @evasmlp @ayatotiddies @thatlittlered @seasonofthenerd @littlemisscantloveyouback @scorpiosaintt @simpingfor-wakasa @spencerswh0r3 @thatweirdtheaternerd12

[avis-writeshq]

03 — labyrinth

summary: “uh oh, i’m falling in love”/“thought the plane was going down, how’d you turn it right around?” pairing: spencer reid x bau!fem!reader genre: best friends to lovers, hurt/comfort, fluff, angst, slow burn, mutual pining warnings: drug usage & addiction, talks about relapsing, therapy, tobias hankel, talks about weight (not reader’s), panic attack/night terrors wc: 3.8k a/n: as always, special mention to @astrophileous for beta-reading SPARKS FLY MASTERLIST // MAIN MASTERLIST

“Are you okay?” The words tumble out of your mouth before you can stop them, and you gently lay a hand on Spencer’s forearm. You offer a soft squeeze of reassurance, your gaze meeting his. 

He nods dismissively, averting his eyes but not shrugging your hand away. His tone is cold as he responds, “I’m fine.” 

You know better than to believe him. Ever since his kidnapping a few short weeks ago, he’s been acting strangely. His eyes are sunken, bloodshot most of the time, with dark bags beneath them. He’s lost weight, not that he wasn’t already skinny to begin with, but he’s thinner than usual. He gets distracted more easily, he doesn’t spout out about random facts or statistics, and he’s now almost always irritated about something. 

He’s been spending more and more time at your apartment, not that you don’t blame him. The two of you would spend your mornings at the dining table, eating half-stale cereal and sipping coffee from the premium machine you splurged on a couple years ago. The closeness is nice, and at times it feels a little too domestic to be platonic, but you’ve learned to control yourself around him. 

You open your mouth to say something else (you’re mainly hoping to call him out on his behaviour), but he moves his other hand on top of yours, lightly pressing your fingers. Your mouth goes dry and your cheeks flush at the contact, effectively making you go quiet. He glances at you, his face softening and for a moment you could have sworn you saw the ‘old Reid’ resurface.

“I’m sorry,” he whispers into your ear, his voice wavering with each syllable. “I’m fine. I promise.”

Even before you were a profiler, you prided in being able to read people well. Spencer is no exception to this; he’s always been easy to read, and his tells are only obvious to the trained eye. In other words, in your long five years of knowing him, you could smell his lies from a mile away. You don’t comment on it, just allowing yourself to bask in the comfort of his touch and the warmth he exudes. 

The two of you head off to work minutes later, climbing into your car with you in the driver’s seat. He holds your hand the entire time. 

*** 

Spencer thinks he’s going to throw up. The moment he gets onto the plane, he thinks he’s going to hurl. He locks himself into the bathroom, fumbling with the little vials of clear liquid in his satchel. He doesn’t know how long he can keep this a secret for– he’s always been a bad liar– especially from a team of profilers. He gathers that they probably already know.

His vision blurs and his head grows foggy as soon as he feels the liquid enter his bloodstream. He squeezes his eyes tightly, relishing in the artificial feel of serenity when there’s a knock on the door.

“Uh… Spencer?”

Fuck, he wants to scream as he scrambles to put everything back in his bag. Not you. Anybody but you.

“In– in a minute,” he responds hurriedly, flushed and woozy from his high. He feels nauseous again and he wonders if he should actually just throw up to make the story more believable.

“Um, okay? I was a little worried; you’ve been in there for a while. Did you need anything?” You ask again through the door as quietly as possible, glancing at where the team were sitting. “Water? Tea?”

He swings the door open, and his voice is a lot harsher than he expected it to be. “I’m fine.”

He almost misses the way you step back uncertainly, and the way your fingers twitch at your side. Almost. He knows you don’t believe him. He knows that you know him better than anyone and at times it scares him. He feels like Pandora’s Box and it’s only a matter of time before you release the demons within him. His heart lurches as he watches the way your face falls into confusion and hurt– hurt that he is responsible for. 

“I’m fine,” he repeats, softer now. “Just– just tired.”

He watches as you pause and give him a once over. His breath hitches in his throat as he feels your eyes over every inch of him, and for a second he feels incredibly exposed. 

“You know you can talk to me, right?” You say slowly, cautiously, and you reach a hand out to gently graze against his forearm. “I’m here for you.”

The contact is enough to get him to calm down, and his shoulders visibly relax and his eyes close for a moment. He nods, looking at you with a softness he didn’t even know he could muster.

“I know,” he responds, touching his fingers to yours. “Thanks.”

“Anytime,” you respond with a smile, but it doesn’t reach your eyes. You pause for a moment before nodding towards the seats of the plane. 

Spencer follows you there, sitting beside you and as he relishes in your warmth and, in your company, he doesn’t feel quite as lost. The nausea begins to dissipate and he suddenly feels a lot lighter– and it’s not because of the drugs. This is different, a better different. A different he could get used to. The pressure from the plane doesn’t seem to affect him as much anymore, and his ears are no longer ringing. 

He leans into your touch, his head pressed against your shoulder and his eyes begin to close. He feels your fingers gingerly hold his own, squeezing lightly in an effort to help him relax. It works. It always works. He feels the way your thumb grazes against the back of his hand and he feels both full of air and breathless at the same time. 

“You okay?” You ask into his hair, continuing to rub your thumb back and forth against his hand. 

He nods, not being able to bring himself to speak. He’s tired, so unbelievably tired, and he thinks that if he speaks he’ll begin to cry. He doesn’t realise that his grip on your hand has tightened.

“I’m not going to leave you.” He hears you whisper, squeezing his hand back.

He only brings himself to nod again, trying desperately to ignore the way his heart flutters in his chest. Uh oh. He’s falling in love.

***

Spencer knocks on your door at half past two in the morning, eyes bloodshot and feeling as if he was suffocating. He doesn’t want to be alone. At least, he doesn’t right now. He would usually enjoy the feeling of solace, considering that it was unlikely he would be able to experience those moments, but lately it feels as though he is lost inside of his own mind. He misses the moments where his head would swirl with unnecessary statistics, or random animal facts that he knows you adore. Now, the only thing stuck in his mind is the rush of the high– and the plummeting feeling of the low.

He holds a breath as he watches your feet come to a stop at the door before the doorknob jiggles and opens. His eyes hesitantly meet yours and he swallows thickly. 

“Can I come in?” He asks, the words barely a whisper. 

“Yeah,” comes your response, and you open the door a little wider. “Yeah, Spence, of course.”

He watches as you boil water and prepare two cups of tea– one chamomile and the other peppermint. He sits on the couch, fiddling with his fingers and his eyes darting around nervously. 

“Spencer.”

Your voice echoes through the room, and suddenly he feels very grounded. He forces his eyes to meet yours and he feels himself stop breathing. Have you always been this beautiful?

“You haven’t been yourself lately,” you say, setting down the cup of peppermint tea in front of him. “Talk to me.”

He laughs humourlessly, sipping at the scalding tea and he grimaces at the burning sensation. “You sound like a therapist.”

“I studied as one,” you counter, dipping your teabag up and down in the cup. “The others… they can’t say anything. But I’m leaving the BAU soon, so I’m technically allowed to ask you this without any federal obligations.” 

“I don’t know–” he begins to deny, but stops short at the way you give him a warning look.

“You’re high right now, aren’t you? And you were on the plane.” Your tone isn’t accusatory, but he expects it from the words that leave your lips. Your gaze softens as you continue. “It’s because of him, isn’t it?”

He flinches and he knows there’s no way out of it. “I tried.”

“I know.”

“I just– I can’t and I want to and I wish that I was… that I was stronger.”

“You are strong.”

He shakes his head. “I should be able to get over this. Get over everything he did to me.”

“Spencer, you were kidnapped and drugged and then you came back to the BAU like nothing even happened.” You pause and lick your bottom lip. “No one is expecting you to get over it, especially not this quickly.”

He doesn’t respond, a strange sense of deja vu filling him at your words and he sits rigid on the couch with his hands in his lap. His eyes don’t leave your face, his gaze shifting from your eyes to the curvature of your nose and then to your lips. For a split second, he wonders how they would feel against his, or how they’d feel against his neck. His head goes heavy at the thought and he pushes them away.

You don’t seem to notice where his eyes have settled, or you’re very good at acting as if he isn’t staring at your face because you continue to speak. “Well,” you say slowly, putting the cup of tea onto the table, “it’s a good thing I’m leaving the BAU then, isn’t it?”

“I don’t know if I can do this job without you,” he confesses, shifting his eyes downcast as he stares into his tea. 

You laugh a little, and he thinks it’s the most beautiful sound he’s ever heard. “You act as if I’m dying or something.”

“I’m serious,” he presses, swallowing the lump in his throat. “I want to be happy for you. And I am! But at the same time I feel– I feel so selfish for wanting you to stay.”

He feels you sit beside him and he instinctively leans into your touch, burying his face into the space between your neck and shoulder.

“It’s not your fault, Spence,” you whisper, rubbing comforting circles on his back. “And I’m always going to be there for you. Promise me you’ll remember that?”

He nods deftly into your neck, breathing in the smell of your perfume. 

“Spencer.”

“Promise,” he mumbles, an arm wrapped around your waist. “I know. I promise.”

You hum in acknowledgement. “Good.”

There’s a lull in the conversation, but for once it’s no longer the uncomfortable silence you were tormented with back home. You could feel everything from his hot breath on your neck to the way his fingers squeeze your sides as if you’d disappear if he held you any looser. 

“We still need to talk about this whole issue at some point though. You know that, right?” You murmur into his hair.

“I know.”

“We don’t have to talk about it now.”

“Yeah.”

“Do you want to stay over?”

“… please.”

***

It has been two weeks since you finished up at the BAU and started work at a clinic, working as a children’s therapist. It’s been a good change of pace for you; a lot slower and much more routinely. The hours are a million times better, and you find that you’re able to get home before seven on most days. The amount of free time that’s been handed to you is something to get used to, now that it’s no longer filled with completing paperwork or getting onto a plane. 

Despite all the positives, it feels strange not seeing your former team everyday. It feels strange not being able to see Penelope’s brightly coloured outfits, or Derek’s dumb jokes. You missed Emily’s sarcasm and JJ’s stories about Henry, and you missed seeing Hotch’s rare smiles whenever he sees someone in his team succeeding. A lot of the time you find yourself craving Rossi’s famous pastas accompanied with special wine. But most of all, you miss seeing Spencer in his element every single day. 

He’s been doing better, or so he says. He’s been going to self-help groups and you’ve been sending him summaries of help books written by former addicts. It seems to have helped because he’s been acting more and more like Spencer Reid than a weird limbo version of him. He still spends a lot of time at your place, sleeping on your couch despite your constant protests. He ends up taking turns with you after you bribed him with multiple chocolate donuts. 

Although he insists that he’s been doing better, his constant night terrors say otherwise and more often than not you find him sweating and sobbing in his sleep. Today is no different.

“Spencer,” You whisper, shaking his shoulder firmly. “Spence!”

He jolts awake, sitting up so quickly he almost knocks his forehead with yours. He groans, his fingers flying to his eyes as he rubs them. Fresh tears slip past his closed eyes, spilling down his cheeks and you pull him into your arms. 

“You’re okay, I got you,” you murmur, rubbing soothing circles against his shoulder blade as he sobs. 

He keeps repeating the words “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I don’t want it” as he sobs against your shoulder, clutching your shirt in the palms of his hands. 

“Breathe in,” you guide gently, running your free hand through his hair, “breathe deep… breathe out…”

He takes in a shaky breath before exhaling through sobs but he continues to follow your guide. He wraps around you tightly, taking deep breaths in before releasing them. After a few minutes of steady breathing, he finally speaks.

“I relapsed yesterday.” 

He expects you to push him off and start screaming. He expects you to start yelling at him for not being able to control himself and for wasting all his progress. He reckons he deserves it. But you don’t do any of those things. 

“That’s okay,” you respond, squeezing his hand. “Have you talked to Meredith about it?”

Meredith Gray is a therapist you introduced Spencer to. She’s a good friend of yours and specialises in addictions as well as post traumatic stress disorder, and she even wrote her final thesis about it. Even though you work in different fields, the jobs cross over a lot when there’s speculation that a parent could be sick. After explaining the situation to her, Meredith was more than willing to take Spencer as a client.

Spencer shakes his head, the guilt creeping into his chest and lacing his words. “No… I have an appointment with her tomorrow though.”

“Okay, good,” you nod, continuing to rub soothing circles on his back. “Relapsing is normal. It’s just another step to healing.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Don’t apologise.”

“But–”

“It’s normal,” you repeat firmly. “You acknowledged it, and you told me. That’s good, Spence, better than most people.”

He’s quiet, his nose brushing against the soft skin of your neck before he speaks again. “Did you know I’m scared of elevators?”

You can’t help but laugh at the change of conversation and you squeeze his hand. “No, I didn’t.”

“Morgan and I got caught in one the other day. On a case,” he muses. “On average, elevators are inspected once or twice a year, but some could go up to three years without inspection. There are approximately ten thousand elevator related injuries per year, and twenty seven deaths.” 

“Now I’m never going into an elevator again,” you respond with jest, poking his cheek. “It’s late. Take the bed, Walter.”

He huffs. “It’s your turn.”

“You need it more than me.”

“I’m not fragile.”

“I never said that you are.”

“(Y/N).”

You give him a pointed look. “Spencer.”

He stares at you for a moment, holding your gaze before he swallows and looks away. You watch the way his Adam Apple bobs in his throat and you suddenly feel faint. 

“Take the bed, Walter,” you repeat, brushing a strand of hair away from his face. “Please?”

He says your name again, and he reaches up to rest his fingers against the collar of your pyjamas. Your breath hitches and you can’t help the way your cheeks grow warm and your head starts to spin. His touch is gentle, his fingers brushing against the skin of your shoulder. You resist the urge to shudder as you relish his skin against yours.

“Stay with me,” he murmurs, pleading, and his eyes glance from your collar to your eyes. 

“You hate sharing beds,” you remind him.

His thumb grazes against your jaw and his face is so close to yours you could count his eyelashes. If you didn’t know any better, you would have thought that he was going to kiss you. But you do know better, so you avert your gaze and push the thoughts out of your mind. An indescribable look flickers on his face but it is gone as quickly as it had appeared. 

“It’s okay if it’s you,” he says earnestly, and you find yourself agreeing because how could you say ‘no’ to that?

You climb into bed, one leg outside of the covers because everything felt so warm, especially with his arm wrapped around your middle and his breath against your shoulder. The thin line between platonic and romantic love has blurred indefinitely now, and at times like these you feel as if it has disappeared entirely. Guilt creeps into your veins as you feel him bring you closer to him, his nose buried into your shoulder. Is this considered coercing? He’s in the middle of healing, working towards sobriety, and here you are taking advantage of his vulnerability. Well, technically you’re not ‘taking advantage’ of him if he seeks you out first but it still feels inherently wrong. Morally wrong, maybe. 

It takes you another thirty minutes to fall asleep, your head rushing with thoughts and questions as you do. He’s gone when you wake up in the morning.

***

“Someone is looking happy,” Derek comments with a teasing grin, slinking an arm around Spencer’s neck. 

It has been about a week since the ‘sleep in the same bed’ incident and he was promptly whisked away to a case in Nevada. He felt guilty about the whole ordeal, considering he wasn’t in his right state of mind at the time. It still made him feel like a sleazy college student who had a one night stand with some random person and then bolted (even though there was no contact of that sort that night). Despite his initial guilt, his head is spinning with the sheer peace and comfort that he experienced when he was sleeping in the same bed as someone. And that someone was you! He could barely even believe it. It all felt so right and perfect… and the way you would shuffle closer at times… it was enough to get his heart racing (he thinks that it’s terribly cliche and horribly cringe-worthy, but therapy has told him that he needs to ‘embrace’ his gross sappy feelings).

“What? No– I mean yes but–”  Spencer coughs in response to Derek’s teasing, clutching the strap of his shoulder bag. 

Derek cackles at his fumbling, grinning ear to ear. “Alright, so… is it a girl?”

“What?!” He shrieks, his voice raising by two octaves as he does. “I have no idea what you’re talking about!”

“Oh so there is a girl,” Emily joins in with a smirk.

“There is– there is no girl,” he responds briskly, his cheeks burning in embarrassment.

Derek hums in thought, a mischievous look in his eye. “Did you catch up with Lila again?”

“No!” Spencer bristles at the thought. Ever since he almost destroyed his friendship with you over her, he hasn’t even bothered to give her a call. “I haven’t seen her since her since– since her case.”

“What about that girl you picked up at a bar?” Emily offers with a sly laugh. “What’s her name again?”

“Austin,” Spencer recalls instantly, his cheeks flaring up again as soon as she says her name. “B-but I haven’t spoken to her either!”

JJ rounds the corner, all too happy to join in the fun (much to Spencer’s chagrin). “I bet it’s (Y/N),” she says with a knowing smirk. 

Spencer considers his brain to be a well oiled machine of facts and logic. It’s one of the only things he could rely on– and the only thing people seem to respect him for. As of late, his ‘well oiled machine’ hasn’t been functioning as well as he would have liked, but that doesn’t mean it’s not functioning at almost full capacity. But JJ’s comment, no matter how well functioning his brain was, rendered him speechless. 

“Looks like you hit the nail on the head, JJ,” Derek cackles, clapping Spencer’s shoulder. 

He lets out a small grunt at the contact, almost stumbling over his feet before he catches himself. “There is nothing going on between (Y/N) and I. We’re just friends.” The words taste bitter on his tongue and he resists the urge to cringe.

“Sure,” Emily says with a short laugh. “Totally believe you. How long did it take for you to realise you’re in love with her?”

JJ snickers along. “Yeah, before or after you had that make out session with Lila?”

Spencer groans at their relentless teasing, covering his face with his hands as they walk along to the bullpen. They’re definitely a lot calmer once they enter their official place of work, but it still doesn’t stop the way they poke fun at him through sly smiles and tasteful words. 

“There’s nothing going on between us,” Spencer reiterates with a frown. “She knows just how difficult this job is; she doesn’t deserve to have to deal with it again.”

“Isn’t she the one who’s supposed to decide that?” Emily asks gently, no more teasing in her tone. She’s always been good at giving advice.

He pauses at that, a frown etched upon his features. His mind rushes with memories; the constant leaving, the torture, the trauma, the drugs… his fingers run through his hair. 

“It’s not a good time right now,” he explains softly.

“When will it ever?”

He doesn’t meet her gaze.“I don’t know.”

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full work

[theplaid-wearingmoose]

The Suit Stays On~Miguel O'Hara x Reader smut~

Inspired by this post

Being in a relationship with Spiderman was the best thing that ever happened to you. Only thing was you had to keep it to yourself. But you wanted to talk with someone about it. One thing led to another and here you were scrolling on tumblr reading smut fic after smut fic of your man. You had to admit, it was pretty sexy. The writers didn't know his name or yours, of course. But reading about Spiderman picking up "Y/N" with his super strong arms and taking her against the closest wall or webbing her up and having his way with her, leaving the suit on during sex, all had you wet and craving something you never thought to ask Miguel for in the bedroom: Spiderman roleplay.

You'd been so obsessed with the fanfictions, you'd turned on notifications for your favorite authors and for the "Spiderman x reader" tag. You were watching Miguel on the tv as the news covered him taking on the bad guy of the week. Some anomaly refusing to go back to their own dimension. Miguel handled it quickly as usual and less than an hour later he was in your apartment, showering while you were in the kitchen. As he got out, he could hear your phone buzzing on the bed. It was going off repeatedly. Normally he would just ignore it, probably emails from work or something, but this was constant. Every few minutes your phone would go off. Rolling his eyes, he sighed heavily and strolled over to the bed. He grabbed your phone and unlocked it to mute your notifications, when he noticed the "t" icon at the top of your phone. Multiple t's began to appear as the tag updated with more fics. Curiosity got the better of him and he pulled down the header to see what was so important. His eyes widened as he saw the first notification, "Spiderman NSFW headcannons". "What the hell is a headcannon?" He murmured to himself, unable to stop himself from pressing it.

Your phone opened your tumblr app to the Spiderman tag and Miguel was bombarded with pictures of himself (well, Spiderman) drawn in some interesting ways, as well as hundreds of stories about him. Fanfictions about Spiderman saving a girl then having sex with her, Spiderman with a Villain!Reader, Spiderman getting kinky with the webbing. It went on and on. Miguel was shocked by how many people fantasized about Spiderman. He actually thought he was rather unpopular. Is this what you were into? Why hadn't you come to him with your fantasy? He'd be more than happy to indulge you in some roleplay. And what was better than having the actual Spiderman there for your fantasy? He swiped over to your profile and found your "Likes" sections. He quickly read through the top few stories, ideas buzzing through his head.

"Miguel! Your food is ready!" You called, your voice snapping him out of his focus on your phone. He was hungry but the idea of you being aroused by his alter ego created a different kind of hunger in him. He wanted to take you in all kinds of ways. He needed to see you beg for him in his spidersuit. He needed to do this right.

With a couple taps on his watch Miguel's suit digitally reappeared on his body. He extended his talons and jumped up, hooking himself to the ceiling, and headed towards the kitchen. Your apartment was nice enough to have a higher ceiling so he could sneak above you without you noticing. He was used to creeping up on bad guys like this but it felt different doing it to you. Like you were unsuspecting prey just for him, the strong predator, to pounce on and devour. You were just below him now, completely unaware of your surroundings because of your earbuds. He watched you for a moment as your served up plates for the two of you, humming softly and swinging your hips to the music playing in your ears. He held back a moan as he watched your ass sway side to side in those shorts. He could feel the predator instinct in him kick into a higher gear and his fangs began to extend on their own, his mouth watering at the thought of webbing you up and taking you right here on the ceiling.

He shook his head, clearing his mind. He'd have plenty of time for that. He didn't want to rush this. He descended slowly on a web behind you, his head level with the back of yours as he hung upside down. You pulled out one of your earbuds to call for him again. "Migue-AAH!" You screamed as your turned and came face to face with the red and blue mask, eyes staring intently at you through it. "Jesus! What the hell are you doing?!" You shouted, clutching your chest. Miguel laughed. "Is that how you talk to the guy that just rescued you, hermosa?" You looked at him, confused. "Huh?" "What happened to 'thank you'? I even saved your cellphone...lots of interesting notifications you have on there, hermosa." Miguel replied, waving your cellphone in front of you. The eyes on his masked shifted into a knowing look and your own widened as you realized what he meant. Your face heated up in embarrassment but Miguel being on board for the roleplay, initiating it even, had you so wet and you weren't about to pass this up.

"Th-thank you, Spiderman, for saving me. How can I ever repay you?" He beckoned you forward with his finger. "How about a kiss?" He suggested. Biting your lip, you slowly ran your hands up to the base of his mask and peeled it slowly down his face, stopping just on the bridge of his nose. You gently pressed your lips to his and hummed dreamily against him. Miguel let out a low groan as you sucked on his bottom lip. Your thumb brushed his cheek as you held his face and Miguel could feel his resolve to take his time wavering. You pulled away from him much sooner than he would've liked but it was all part of the character you were playing. The shy, naive girl flustered from being saved by her superhero crush.

You stepped back after pulling his mask back over his face, shyly rubbing your arm and avoiding his gaze. He flipped down from his web, towering over you as he stood to his full height. "I don't think you're done repaying me yet, princesa." He murmured. "W-what else do you want?" You asked, anticipation buzzing through you. He tilted his head to one side as if examining you. "I have a few ideas".

~~~~~~

You had no idea that when you started this, you'd be laying strapped in a giant web on the corner of your living room ceiling, your clothes torn and dangling below you, while Miguel crawled menacingly towards your dripping pussy. "You look so beautiful like this, hermosa. I think I should keep you like this for a while. That way I can keep you safe. You wouldn't want to run into anymore danger, would you?" Your response was cut off with a moan as Miguel licked a long stripe up your pussy. You cried out and tugged against your restraints as his tongue flicked up and down your clit. His strong hands held your legs open and his lips wrapped around your clit making your head spin from the pleasure. Pulling away with a sucking pop, he smirked at you, his sharp fangs visible in his grin. "Answer me, muñeca." He demanded, his deep voice rumbling in your ear, making you clench around nothing.

"N-no Spiderman...I-I don't want to get into trouble again." Miguel hummed in approval and began to rub your clit in slow circles. "You need me to protect you, don't you, baby? You're just too sweet to be wandering the streets alone. It's not safe." Biting your lip to stifle your moans, you nodded quickly. Miguel's fingers worked skillfully over you, dipping inside you a few times before returning to your clit and then back again. "Tell me you need me to keep you safe, baby. I wanna hear you." Miguel growled. "Y-yes! Oh f-fuck yes! Please Spiderman..I-I need you. N-need you to keep me -ah! s-safe. Oh fuck please Spiderman...need you so bad!" You whined, Miguel's fingers speeding up inside you.

"You're so pretty when you beg, hermosa. You'll let me fuck you like this, won't you? Dirty girl..letting your hero take you any way I want. So fucking naughty.."

Miguel climbed on top of you, your legs wrapping around his waist. He retracted just enough of his suit to free his large, hard cock. Stroking it a couple times, he looked down at you, his mask returning to cover the rest of his face. "Estás lista, cariño?" You nodded again, too aroused to answer respond. Miguel gripped your hips in his large hands and pushed into you slowly. The room was filled with loud moaning from the two of you. Miguel leaned down next to your ear. "I'm not going to be gentle, princesa." He warned. You whimpered and bucked your hips up into his. "Please fuck me, Spiderman. I want you inside me!" You whined.

Miguel began to set a brutal pace. The sound of his hips snapping against yours filled the room, along with your cries of pleasure. Your hands clenched at the web restraining you, your fingers aching from how tight you were squeezing. His head fell down onto your shoulder, his panting and groaning filled your ears. "Oh fuuuuck yes! You feel so fucking good!" You moaned, clenching around Miguel tightly. "You're gonna make me -fuck...cum if you keep talking like that, baby." He groaned. "Please cum inside me, Spiderman. Fill me up...I wanna feel it dripping out of me!" You begged. Miguel choked out a moan and gripped your hips tightly. The web shook as Miguel slammed into you over and over again.

"Want me to fill you up, bebita? Want me to put a baby in you?"

"Oh my god please, Spiderman. Give it to me! I want it so bad!" You screamed, your orgasm hitting you suddenly, soaking Miguel's cock. His orgasm followed not too far behind. You were certain bruises were forming on your hips from how hard he was squeezing you as he came. His hot seed spilled inside you, coating your insides. Miguel rocked his hips against you as he came down from his orgasm. The two of you were breathing heavily and Miguel collapsed beside you, digitally removing his mask from his face. He leaned over and pressed kisses all over your face, making you giggle.

"Was that okay, mi vida?" He asked, his previous cockiness lost when he dropped character and replaced with a bit of nervousness that he didn't live up to the online fantasies.

You hummed happily and once he released your hands, moved over to rest your head on his chest. "Definitely more than okay. That was amazing." You sighed. Miguel smiled to himself and kissed the top of your head. "I didn't mean to go through your tumblr. Your phone kept going off and I guess curiosity got to me. Why didn't you tell me you had a thing for me in my Spidersuit?" "I didn't want you to think it was weird I guess. Or that I only loved you cause you're a superhero. I loved Miguel before I loved Spiderman. The suit just adds to the sexiness." You replied. Miguel laughed loudly and pulled you closer. "Gracias, hermosa. I'll make sure the news cameras get my good angles next time they're covering me fighting someone." You rolled your eyes playfully and kissed him.

"And don't worry I've got way more ideas for us to try, Spiderman."

[smuthospital]

⭐️Yandere Kylar x Reader⭐️

Premise: You're a streamer, and your biggest fan really really likes you

Warning: Non-con, kidnapping, gn reader

Minors DNI

Bright lights flash in your eyes, your fingers rapidly bashing buttons on your keyboard, your other hand furiously clicking your mouse. You whine as your character suddenly falls to the ground, dead.

"Ok, guys! Ok, I get it! I know I'm not that good at this game! No need to tease me!" You laugh. Inside, you're a bit peeved. These stinky bastards aren't here for your gameplay so they better shut up. Shut up and enjoy their eye candy. You're currently streaming an online first-person shooter. You made your little hobby into a little side hustle not too long ago. Guys love watching hot people play games and it's proven to be profitable. "I'm cute? Well thank you, Mr. Husband!" This guy is a regular. Gotta give him those shout-outs he practically pays for.

As much as it hurts to deal with these weirdos, It helps with expenses. You've even seen Robins username pop in and out quickly, probably hoping you didn't see. At first, you were uncomfortable with acting all sweet for your audience, but you warmed up to the idea when it started staving off your bastard Landlord at the orphanage you live in, Bailey. You play games dressed sexy, say sweet dumb things and the money comes pouring in.

These poor, lonely guys send you money in hopes you'll give them a crumb of attention, and you do. Sometimes, you say their names. You don't exactly care that you're taking their money at all. It's a gift! It's not like you forced them to give you money, nor did you even ask. They just want a chance to get in your pants and you're not gonna stop them from dreaming. You can't count the number of times people in the chat have asked if you have an onlyfans.

You'd never, of course, date one of these pigs. You imagine your viewers are stinky, slimy, greasy and would cum in their pants at just seeing you in person. Their whole body is probably sticky to the touch and shower maybe once a month they probably have piss filled mountain dew bottles on the floor next to their pc and shit stains on their seat. You're pretty sure a few guys in the comments are jerking off as you stream this very second.

A few times, you've received ominous messages in the comments from different users, almost threatening you for some ridiculous problem they have with you. How you play, what you're wearing, or just your face, so you make sure to always hide your location and are very vague about your personal life. You're used to them being weird, saying things about what they'd do to you if they were alone with yo- Just have to learn to ignore it. You calm yourself down.

"Well, that's enough for today, I'm getting sleepy! It was nice playing with you today. I'll see you tomorrow, goodnight, love you!" You blow a kiss at the camera. You see people commenting their 'i love you too's and whining about how you could stay a bit longer' in the chat before you disconnect. You made $540 from that two-hour stream. You received most of it from the same person. Mr.Husband. Not one minute after closing the stream, you get a message. You thought you disabled direct messages? You notice that it's to your personal account that's open on another tab from an unnamed account. No bio, no profile picture.

New user: Hey

New user: Do you want to meet up sometime? For coffee?

You: Who's this?

New user: I'm Kylar. You can get to know me when we get coffee.

You: Uh no? How the fuck do you know me?

New user: I love your streams, pretty. Drop the fucking attitude before you piss me off. I knew you'd be more of a bitch off-camera. You just look too good to be good hearted. You have to be taught obedience. You're lucky I care about you so much.

You: Keep your tiny prick away from me. I never want to see you in my presence. Disgusting. Ugly pig. Do me a favor and never ever leave your dirty cave. Go fuck yourself

New user: Wanna watch?

*New user has now been blocked*

You stand up and walk away from your computer. how the fuck did he find your actual account? You don't even have your real name anywhere. You start to undress, not noticing your computer's camera has flicked on again.

In a dark room, a man fists his massive cock slowly, eyes trailing up and down his obsession through the screen. His mind is filled with all the things he wants to do to a little cock tease like you. Ruin you, break you, crush you under his weight, teach you a lesson for whoring yourself out. A cute treat like you should have better manners "Pig...tiny prick. Ah, (y/n) I can't let you just say those things to your husband." he watches as you slide your underwear down, eyes zeroing in on the crevice between your thighs as you bend over. He shudders as hot baby batter coats his chest and thighs, continuing to roll down his cock in fat globs.

Two days later, you're walking back home from a late shift at the cafe. You plan to stream when you get home.

Something is watching you.

Cold sweat dribbles down the back of your neck. You shiver, the cold night air doing nothing to calm you. You can feel eyes drilling holes into your back. You picked up your pace, your eyes darting all around. Who is it? What do they want? You think you can hear footsteps not far away. They're getting closer. You break into a sprint and make it to Danube street before you're tackled to the ground. All air is pushed from your lungs, depleting you of oxygen. You do your best to fight against your unseen attacker, but they're far too strong. You try to scream, but only a wheeze comes out. The man roughly picks you up like a sack of potatoes under his arm and carries you into a mansion nearby.

He walked down a flight of stairs and threw you to the ground. You tried to scramble away, but he grabs your ankle and drags you back to him. You get a look at his face in the dim light. He's handsome, but his expression strikes fear in your heart. Fury is the only word you can think of to describe it. You scream and flail your limbs wildly, trying to get him the fuck off of you. You hear a crack and before you realize what happened, your cheek is burning. "Shut." Smack "The." Smack "Fuck." Smack "Up." He's seething by the end. Your head was knocked back into the ground by the last hit. A dribble of blood runs down your nose, your cheeks completely red and moderately swollen. You're no longer trying to fight him, head far too foggy to do anything but lay there in pain.

"I'm sorry, baby." He huffs, calming down a bit. "Don't fight me and that won't have to happen again." He wiped at the blood on your face with his thumb, cradling your cheek. A blush creeps over his face along with a deranged smile as he stares down at you with his unblinking eyes. "You're just so perfect. Everything." You feel a bulge forming atop you where he's straddled. He pants heavily as he looks you up and down. Hot tears slip down your swollen cheeks at the realization that you can't get yourself out of this one.

You lie completely still as he palms his crotch in front of you. "I...I'm kylar...you said I have a small prick, (Y/n)... That wasn't very nice. You should say things like that to your husband." You stare at him in awe...it's..the guy from the chat. did he find you? He's crazy. He's insane. He's gonna kill you. Your chest heaves up and down uncontrollably. You feel blood rushing to your ears, feeling the most fear you've ever felt in your entire life. He takes notice of your panic attack and tries to calm you. "H-hey! Shhh, it's ok, just breathe!" You don't hear a word he's saying and thrash wildly again. Your legs kick underneath him, but his body doesn't budge an inch.

You freeze when you feel his lips smash onto yours. He grabs your wrists in one hand above your head, effectively immobilizing you. It feels like he's trying to eat you, no longer caring about your little tantrum. "Just stay still." He mutters as his large hands roam up and down your body like he's waited his life for this moment. You feel his ever growing bulge rub against your stomach. He grabs your hands before you could try to fight him again.

"...You know...I've been giving you my good money, (Y/n). All because I knew how hard it was to live on your own. But now you're here with me. You'll be my personal house whore." You feel his breath hit your cheek. "Please...let me go. I didn't do anything to you!" You're full on sobbing at this point and to your horror, you feel his cock twitch against you.

"Oh fuck! Keep crying for me like that, baby." He's clawing your pants. Your eyes dart around the room for anything that can help you, but your blood runs cold when you just see hundreds of photos of you plastered all over his walls, some even on his ceiling. You hear a loud tear. This animal ripped your pants and underwear in the process of ridding them from your body.

You're a shaking mess as he cups your sex in his hand. "K-Kylar, please!" You cry, trying to appeal to his humanity. He groans, a little wet spot of pre cum appears on his crotch. "Say my name again." He demanded. His fingers rim around your hole, threatening to dive in. You quiver at the feeling. He unzipped his pants and you feel something impossibly large, heavy and hot slam onto your stomach with a thud.

He releases you momentarily and moves himself lower on your body, his head between your legs. His arms circle around your thighs in a vice grip. He takes a strong whiff and lets out a moan. You feel his tongue slide up and down your sex as his fingers plat around with your hole before dipping half a finger in. You're too dry, it hurts! You whine and struggle, uncomfortable. His finger dips all the way in, uncaring for your pleasure. You scream as he continues to thrust his finger inside you as his mouth engulfs your sex. He removes his finger and lifts himself off you. You sigh in relief.

That relief dies as you feel his meaty cock push at your hole. He begins to push in, but your hole resists. It's too big. He lets out a sound of annoyance before spitting on his hand and rubbing the liquid up and down his cock. It does little to help aid in his entrance. "This may hurt a bit…a lot actually." He wicked grin stretches across his face before he rears his hips back and forces his cock through. You let out a blood curdling scream he rips through your insides. He's only halfway in, your walls desperately trying to push him back out. He holds onto your waist and pulls you into him, bottoming out. You feel like you're bleeding, but you're too afraid to look down.

You can hardly breathe. His cock feels like it's in your stomach. Your body twitches, hot tears slipping past the corners of your eyes as you wheeze out please for mercy. He only looks down at you in awe at your beauty. "Oh, you're so cute like this! I knew you could take it! I know it hurts now, but just give it time." His thumb rubs at your tears. There's nothing you can do to get out of this. You feel completely helpless.He pulls himself out, and slowly goes back in, groaning. "Fuck, you're so tight" he grunts. You close your eyes and hear a flash. Your eyes snap open to see he's holding a camera. A blinding light fills your vision along with a 'click'. This sick fuck.

You let out an involuntary moan when he shoves himself into you at just the right angle. He presses himself deep inside you, holding himself there, his cock hugging your sweet spot. "Ah (Y/n)! (Y/n)! (Y/n)!" He chants your name like a mantra at each thrust, but you can barely hear him. All you can do is feel him. Hurt hurts so bad but feels equally as good.

You can't help but let little sounds of pain and pleasure spill from your lips as his hips ram into yours. You look up to see his eyes are completely rolled back. His lips press wet kisses to your cheek. You feel a knot start to build in your lower stomach without your consent and you feel yourself lift onto cloud nine. "Oh (Y/n), cum for me! Cum for your husband!" He moans. You feel shame and pleasure wash over you as you do just that. You clench around him, his breath hitches in his throat at the feeling. He slams into you harder and harder. The over stimulation is killing you now. It's too much!

You think he might break something inside you, you think his dick might knock your brain out of your skull with how hard he's pounding. You feel like your organs will never be the same. "Gonna get you pregnant, gonna breed you again and again. Gonna have my babies. We'll be great parents!" His muttering awakens what's left of the fight in you. "Ah! N-no, stop! I-I can't!" His hand slams over your mouth, his bottomless green eyes staring directly into yours. He lifts your legs up and puts them over his shoulders in a tight mating press.

He hits your special spot and your eyes roll back. He can reach far deeper like this. He slams into you with one final thrust, pressing into you with his full weight. You can't breathe. The over stimulation finally comes for you and you cum all over his cock again. You feel his cock twitch before unloading what seems to be an endless supply of semen into you. You can almost hear the wet sound of him cumming inside you. Your lower stomach rises by the sheer volume of cum produced. You wonder if he used to be a bull at Remy's farm or something. That thought quickly vanishes along with your whole mind as your brain is unable to produce anymore thoughts.

With a satisfied sigh, he pulls his slipping wet cock out of you, a rush of lightly pink cum following after, quickly stopping when he plugs you up with a small plug. His cock isn't even fully soft. You pray he doesn't decide he wants a round two. "That wasn't so bad, now was it? You were crying for nothing." He pants. He kisses your temple before picking you up by your waist, once again like a sack of potatoes in one arm. He walks over to a mattress on the floor and drops you on it, your body softly bouncing on top before settling in a heap. He had a mattress the whole time and still fucked you on the cold, dirty cement floor!? You hear a click and see he's chained your right angle to the wall. He smiles at you and pevks you on the lips the way a husband would before leaving to work. His mood did a 180. He's so very cheerful, his handsome face cheerfully grinning down at you like you're a cute little kitten.

"You did really well today, (Y/n), my love. I'll be back tomorrow. You won't get dinner tonight because you fought me so much, but you'll learn to behave. I want to treat you better, so please be good for me. Goodnight." With that, your new 'husband' stands up to his full height and walks upstairs, leaving you in the cold pitch darkness of the basement.

[gredandforgeweatherby]

A Shared Joint

Theo Nott x reader

Warnings: mentions of alcohol, weed consumption, swearing, making out, brooding?reader (it’ll make sense), Google translated Italian

A/N: Italian!Theo always‼️(accent🤩) ((this man is so hot)), not specified what house you are in.

The Slytherin common room was packed to the brim, mostly with slytherin and ravenclaws, though you could spot some Hufflepuffs and the occasion Gryffindor. The lights were low, music blaring through the speakers as students danced, drank, and talked all around you. Every corner of the room seemed to have a couple making out and groping each other, and smoke from cigarettes and joints hung low in the air.

You didn’t want to be at this party. You would’ve much preferred drinking with your friends in one of your dorms as you normally would. Instead your best friend wanted to come to slytherin’s party that night, and you didn’t want her to go alone. So that’s how you found yourself where you were now; sat on the large couch in the center or the room, one arm propped on the arm of the couch, your head resting upon it with an uninterested look etched on your face.

You watched as your friend danced with some kid in your year, both clearly intoxicated. You had taken a couple of shots and had currently been nursing a drink for the last hour and were entirely too sober for this. The room was hot, the amount of people only exasperating that, the pounding in your head had begun to match the pounding of the music, and you were tired. You wanted to leave, but you knew your friend didn’t. She was having the time of her life dancing with… Berkshire? You weren’t sure. All you know was that she had a smile on her face, so you were more than willing to wait out this boring party for her.

It was only a few minutes later, though it felt like another hour had passed, when you felt the couch dip next to you. Your curiosity getting the better of you, you turn your head to the side to be met with Theodore Nott’s profile. He was staring ahead, his eyes low and his mouth straight as usual. He held a drink in one of his hands, and as he leaned his head on the back of the couch, you spotted a joint resting behind his ear. He was dressed as he always was: smart pants paired with a (probably) expensive button up, the first few buttons undone.

You turned your attention back in front of you, your gaze searching for your friend. She was still dancing with the same kid, though now with considerably more groping and tension. At least one of us is enjoying ourselves, you thought. Surveying the room, it seemed the only two people not on their feet were you and Nott, which made you feel a bit out of place. You weren’t able to linger on that feeling for long though.

“At least I know I’m not the only one who’d rather be anywhere else.” Theo broke the silence between you two. His accent made it a bit harder to understand him under the loud music, but you surpassingly managed.

You turned your head to your right, making eye contact as his head was already tilted toward you. You had to admit, Theodore Nott was attractive. More than that, he was hot. His eyes bore into yours, his stare making you feel as if he seeing straight into your soul.

Breaking eye contact, you huffed out a chuckle.

“I’m only here because my friend wanted to come.”

“Ah,” a half smile-half smirk crossed his face, “being a good friend and not leaving her to come on her own I assume?”

You nodded in response.

He turned his head back straight, breathing out a barely audible sigh.

“Only here ‘cause it’s your common room I assume? Can’t really escape these idiots can you?” You turned back to him to once again be met with the side of his face. He didn’t respond right away, which made you think he was ignoring you, before he sighed.

“My friends like to throw these parties. I find it fucking annoying to have to clean up after everyone the next morning. Too much work sai?”

You nodded. “Thats understandable. Merlin knows I wouldn’t want to do that shit.”

Theo chuckled. “That’s exactly what I’m saying bella.”

You raised your eyebrows in response and turned back towards the crowd. Out of your peripheral vision you could see Theo reach behind his ear for the joint. He rolled it in between his fingers for a few seconds before standing. He walked a bit, before stopping a step or two past the arm of the couch and turns his body towards you.

“Would you like to join?”

──────────────────────

Theo guided you out of the common room up a set of stairs out of the dungeons. The two of you were currently at one of the open windows of the castle, you sitting on the ledge and Theo leaning against it. He pulled a lighter from his pocket before handing you the joint.

“Ladies first of course.” He stated, that half smile-half smirk from earlier making another appearance. You huffed out a laugh and took the joint from his fingers, setting it between your lips, as he lit it for you.

You and Theo passed the joint between the two of you in a comfortable silence. For not having too much interaction with him all these years, it wasn’t awkward like one would have thought. This silence that lingered allowed you to observe Theo when he wasn’t paying attention. You had already admitted to yourself he was hot, everyone knew that, but you have never really seen that for yourself. Now, with a nice high, you were finally seeing for yourself that Theodore Nott was hot. Really hot. He took another hit off the joint before looking back to you, luckily giving you enough time to make it seem like you hadn’t been staring.

Theo offered you the joint and you took it, directing your glance upward as you rest your head against the wall, zoning out a bit. While you weren’t paying attention, he took it as a chance to do the same you have been doing seconds prior, unbeknownst to you. He had always thought you were attractive, he had seen you throughout all your years here. Seeing you tonight by yourself looking like you’d rather die than be at that party gave him the perfect opportunity to actually talk to you. He didn’t necessarily fancy you, you were someone who caught his eye several times, but he could definitely see that changing.

You finally zoned back in and could feel Theo’s eyes on you.

“You’re staring.”

He only breathed a small chuckle. “Am I?”

You locked eyes with him. “Yes.”

Theo kept your eye contact, not seeming embarrassed he was caught staring. Pushing off his arms that were on the ledge of the window, he turned his body to face you.

“What a shame,” his gaze flitted downward before meeting your eyes again. “una bella ragazza mi ha sorpreso a fissarlo.”

Though you weren’t quite sure what he said, you had to admit it was hot when he spoke in Italian. With his gaze still meeting yours, he moved again, this time shifting between your legs. Unconsciously, you opened them a bit wider for him. His hand ghosted over your thigh, a feather light touch almost sending shivers down your spine.

“You shouldn’t stare. It is rude after all.” You replied lamely after realizing you hadn’t responded yet. One side of his mouth tilts up in a half smile.

“Scusa.” He muttered, rolling his lips in to wet them. “Didn’t mean to be rude.” He moved his hand up a bit further, making sure you were still okay with the contact.

“If staring at you is rude would kissing you be rude too?” He asked, his eyes boring into your own.

Instead of responding verbally, you moved to put one of your hands on his face, and leaning in to kiss him.

He responded immediately, kissing you back with fervor. The hand on your thigh moved up even further while his other went to your jaw. You moved your other hand through his hair, lightly tugging on the roots. Theo released a light moan in response, his mouth opening enough for your tongue to slip inside. You scooted closer to him, most of your body hanging off the ledge of the window. Theo moved his hand up under your dress as his hand on your jaw pulled you closer. The two of you were breathing heavy, the kiss igniting a hunger for the other neither of you realized you had. The two of you continued to kiss until a distant bang caught your attention. Jumping away from him, you realized the bang came from the dungeons, and that someone had come out of the common room. Theo tired to chase your lips, using the hand on your jaw to try and pull you back to him when you heard someone quietly call your name.

“Shit,” you sighed. The only person at the party that would’ve been looking for you was your best friend, you could tell it was her the closer she got to you and Theo.

Theo lowered his hand from your jaw, letting it fall to your waist before moving away so you could get down.

“I guess you have to go.” He asked, though they way he said it made it seem like a statement.

“If she’s looking for me it probably means she’s ready to go, so.”

You finally got off the window ledge, Theo’s hands on your waist as you did. Before going back down to the dungeon, you turned to him. One hand on the back of his neck, you drew him into a quick kiss.

“We should continue tho sometime.” You mumbled against his lips.

“Anytime you want.” He nodded.

You gave him a small smile before slipping your hand off your next and bidding him goodbye.

“Ciao bella.” He called to you before you were out of earshot.

You turned back around, winking at him before disappearing down the stairs.

─────────────────────

I’m thinking of making a smutty part 2, so let me know if you would like that. Enjoy xx!

[imaginedanvrs]

almost doesn't mean never

masterlist

summary: wanda maximoff x reader. '3 times we almost kissed, 1 time we did' trope

warnings: alcohol consumption, lots of angst

word count: 3.6k

You didn’t comment when Wanda repeatedly took fries out of your bag instead of her own, too enthralled in the story she was telling to notice what she was doing. At one point, she even took a sip from your milkshake and you weren’t sure if that was accidentally or on purpose because she had a habit of continuously trying your food whenever you had any. You would always offer to get her her own portion but she would frantically decline only to take several more sips or bites. You never minded. 

  “-and the moment we got back Vis already had dinner made for me,” she told you fondly, missing how your smile dropped as promptly as the anchor in your stomach. 

  “I suppose that was the least he could do,” you said lightly, struggling to hide your disdain for the robot. You would think that after a year of hearing your best friend tell you all about how amazing her boyfriend was that you would get the hang of pretending to like him, or better yet, stop being in love with her. It was never that easy. 

  “It’s not that simple for him,” Wanda defended with a soft chuckle that even the angels in heaven would have a hard time rivalling. “He has no taste buds,” she said simply. “Your cooking is far superior,” she told you, peering out at the car park and giving you the chance to admire her side profile. 

  The casual compliment gave you a surge of pride no matter how many times you had heard it before. It felt good to know you had something to offer the Sokovian that Vision couldn’t match, more so when it was something so important to her. You often replayed the memory of the night she was missing Pietro and dropped by your apartment unannounced to find you practising her favourite dish from her home country. It had been hard tracking down all of the ingredients you needed and it was your fourth time doing so when Wanda got to taste it, insisting you had perfected it. You hadn’t believed her until she started crying. 

  “I could have made something for you tonight,” you pointed out before taking a bite of your burger before Wanda decided to start on that too. 

  “I just needed grease,” she admitted, peering around the deserted McDonald’s car park. You were parked in the far corner and probably looked super dodgy to any strangers that spotted your car lurking in the blind spot, but Wanda liked to people-watch from the comfort of your car that she spent so much time in. She said that your car was comfier than hers. 

  “You need a holiday,” you corrected. 

  “We should take a roadtrip,” she said at once. You immediately loved the idea. 

  “Where do you want to go?” You asked, willing to take her to wherever came to mind. 

  “Anywhere,” she admitted, resting her head back to gaze at you with excitement. “I miss spending time with you,” she told you, not having a single clue how much of your days were taken up by you missing her. You didn’t see each other as much as you used to and even when you did get to hang out it wasn’t for as long as you wished. That was partly how you had developed the ritual of going to fast food car parks for your meals, it was convenient in case Wanda was suddenly pulled away. Her job required her to have one foot in her work life at all times. 

  “Me too,” you said. It was far safer to underplay your feelings.

  The Sokovian shifted to the edge of her seat and took her hand comfortably in yours as she often did. You watched as she twirled her fingers around yours, feeling the warmth of the astonishing magic that lay beneath the surface. Her strength was incredible, everyone knew that, but it was the gentleness she coated it with that you had always been in awe of. 

  “Will this roadtrip be just us?” You asked even though you both knew it wasn’t going to happen. 

  “Of course,” she muttered, letting her fingertips dance across your palm. “Just us and the road,” she laid on with a smile. That smile made you feel things no platonic best friend should. That smile made you love her. With the way it reached her eyes when it was directed at you, it was too tempting not to pretend like her heart didn’t carry that same devotion to you, that her eyes hadn’t glanced down to your lips as she became just as lost in that fantasy as you. The electricity that charged the small space only existed in your world, because for her, it was saved for him. 

  The chiming of her ringtone snapped you both out of your separate thoughts and disconnected your hands just as swiftly. You didn’t have to glance over at her phone to know who it was and you shouldn’t have felt a sting when she opted to answer instead of calling him back later. 

  “Hey, Vis,” she said, voice so tender and yet still striking a blow. 

  You hated that toaster so much.

*

The slight murmur of Wanda reciting the lines of the character’s held your attention far greater than the original could ever hope to. She knew every episode of the sitcom by heart and you were pretty sure you were coming close to being able to say the same. She had been quiet that night, caught up in her own head about the events of her latest mission, so hearing her voice at all was a relief. 

  She had her head resting comfortably on your shoulder so you felt a soft vibration with every mutter of words. You smiled, not daring to move which was easy when she stunned you with her next words. 

  “I want to quit my job.”

  “Oh?” You said casually to her statement you fully supported. You knew she had an incredible role in saving countless lives multiple times a week, but you also weren’t blind to the fact that your best friend didn’t enjoy her job. Unimaginable danger aside, no matter what she did, the public criticised her endlessly and did nothing to ease the gnawing feelings she had that she was a threat to her team and the people she helped. She had come so far in controlling her abilities, but she was only human. 

  “I won’t,” she said. “I just wish I could.”

  “Why don’t you?” You enquired after a pause. Wanda sighed, lifting herself off of your shoulder and bringing her knees up to her chest. 

  “This place keeps me in check,” she admitted. You hated how she talked about herself. 

  “You’re not an animal or a criminal, Wanda. And this team has no possession over you. They can’t keep you here, no one can.” Except someone did. Vision was the only reason Wanda really remained on the team. He had convinced her to. But really, as long as he was an Avenger, Wanda would be too. Yet another reason for your disdain for him. 

  “Yeah,” she sighed, clearly not believing you.

  “Wanda,” you prompted. She looked at you. “It’s your life. You can do whatever you want with it.” She still didn’t seem convinced. “If you want to run away, I can cause a distraction,” you told her, finally earning a smile from the brunette. 

  “I can count on you for anything,” Wanda said simply because it was the one thing she had never doubted. She had doubted her safety as a child. She had doubted Ultron’s intentions. She had doubted her team’s trust in her. She had doubted Vision’s loyalty. But she never doubted you. 

  “Always,” you assured without a beat. “I’ve got your back.” You wished that could have been enough for the brunette to decide that it was you she would run away with, but it was clear that if Wanda ever did opt to flee, she would take him with her and leave you behind. 

  “That might put you in danger one day,” she said sadly, letting her anxieties cloud her judgement. 

  “I don’t care.” You really didn’t. How could you? 

  She smiled at you softly and pulled your forwards slightly to kiss your forehead. She didn’t linger but her lips left a deeper imprint than she would ever know. You had always wondered what her lips would feel like against your skin and it was even better than you had dared dream. 

  When she pulled away and left a minute gap between you, there was a split second where you thought she was about to bring her lips to your own. But that moment passed when Vision casually faded through Wanda’s bedroom wall. She had told him countless times not to do that and you had to use all of your willpower not to scream at him to get out. 

  “My apologies, I didn’t know you had company,” he said but made no effort to turn around. “Good evening, y/n.”

  “Vision,” you replied without looking his way. 

  “You’ve got to knock, Vis,” Wanda chuckled as you subtly placed a couple more inches between you. 

  “Should I come back?” He enquired.

  No. Just keep floating off and never turn back.

  “Yeah,” Wanda smiled warmly at him past you.

  “That’s okay, I should probably head off anyway,” you excused. You had nothing planned and no work the following day so there was no legitimate reason for you to go. But if you stayed you would have just felt like they were both waiting for you to leave. 

  “Really?” You missed her surprise and touch of hurt at your sudden shift, watching on as you stood up from the bed to grab your jacket. 

  “I’ve got some errands to run tomorrow.” Lie. “And it’s getting late.” Not really. 

  “Okay, but I’ll still see you tomorrow, right?” The hopeful edge in her voice was going to stick with you for a while and you knew you were going to be replaying and over analysing it constantly that night. You had a way of hurting yourself with your optimism more than Wanda hurt you with reality. 

  “I wouldn’t miss it for the world,” you grinned back at her with sudden ease. You were only getting coffee, but there really was very little that would stop you going. 

 “See you then,” you called as left, purposefully ignoring her mechanical boyfriend. 

*

As far as maid of honours went, you probably weren’t the best. 

  You didn’t carry the enthusiasm that any of the guests at the wedding did and it proved difficult to maintain your fake smile the entire day. You really were happy for her, your best friend was finally getting married to the love of her life, cementing your role as something far less significant. You just didn’t get it, he wasn’t even human. 

  The ceremony was nothing short of gorgeous. It was a small reception, Wanda had been adamant that she wanted to keep it intimate despite Tony trying to throw more and more money at the event and add more guests. But it was Wanda’s day, it was her choice. 

  You had never seen the Sokovian look so happy in her life, or so beautiful. You supposed the two went hand in hand, her joy had always been so warming and infectious that it was impossible not to see the perfection in it. Everything was finally coming together for her, while your world fell apart. 

  You didn’t acknowledge Natasha when she sat down next to you. As much as it pained you to watch, you couldn’t tear your eyes away from the tender slow dance the bride and groom swayed along to. She looked like a Disney Princess, her dress wrapped around her with an elegance you were in awe of. 

  “I wasn’t sure you were going to come,” Natasha told you. You still didn’t look away. 

  “I couldn’t miss my best friend’s wedding,” you muttered, barely audible over the gentle music around you.   

  “Still, it can't be easy when you’re in love with her,” the Russian stated. You noticeably stiffened but didn’t bother to deny the fact. Your heart raced at the confirmation that your feelings weren’t a total secret, but you still knew Natasha well enough to be sure she wouldn’t tell anyone else. “No one else knows,” she assured. “Including Wanda.”

  “Maybe this will be what finally makes me move on,” you wished aloud. Natasha didn’t respond, following your gaze to where the dance had come to an end. Most of the guests were beginning to disperse and you planned to do the same soon, you had already stayed longer than you had thought you could be able to. 

  “Carol’s into you.” You were aware of that, just as you were aware the usually confident Captain was working up the courage to ask you out. It would be good for you if you said yes. Carol was great…

  “One lesbian crushing on another that’s in love with her best friend, you guys are hopeless,” Natasha quipped and you gave her your first genuine smile of the evening. 

  “I know, I know,” you admitted, holding your hands up and chuckling with the redhead. “I should go, see you around, Romanoff.” Natasha waved you off and watched you go with an edge of pity that she knew you would hate. As you reached the door, the redhead noticed Wanda frown in your direction and started after you, swaying in her slightly intoxicated state. 

  “Y/n,” she called once you were outside and finally alone. You spun around, feeling a pang of guilt that you had been caught leaving her wedding without saying goodbye. 

  “Hey, sorry. You looked busy and I…” you hadn’t thought of an excuse and you didn’t have the energy to lie to her anyway. “You’re married,” you stated with a shaky exhale that Wanda wouldn’t have missed if she hadn’t had a bottle of champagne to herself. 

  “I am!” She beamed and suddenly threw her arms around you. You hugged her back with a hesitation you had never given her before, uncomfortable and pained by the feeling of her wedding dress beneath her fingertips. You had swallowed your tears all day, but actually feeling how real it all was threatened to be too much. You just wanted to run home and cry into your pillow. 

  “I just,” she sighed heavily with bubbling excitement. “I’m so fucking happy right now,” she giggled and finally pulled away. “I love him so much and…” she seemed at a loss for words. You were too. 

  “I’m really happy for you, Wands,” you told her, ignoring how your throat felt like it was swelling to the size of a balloon. She grinned and hugged you again, holding you flush against her. 

  “Thanks, y/n. I can't wait for it to be your wedding day.” Her words were as rough as a sucker punch to the gut. Would you even ever have one? Surely. Right? 

  She barely pulled away to kiss your cheek, letting the alcohol do as it pleased and numb the feeling of your hands twitching around her waist at the act. “I hope he treats you well,” you whispered. Wanda smiled and rubbed your cheek affectionately with her thumb, as though she was about to use it to pull you closer once more. You would never know if she would or not, because you stepped away. 

  “Goodnight, Wanda,” you smiled, catching one last glance at the ring around her finger that glimmered under the fairy lights strung above you. They were your final reminder that your best friend was getting her happy ever after, because everything had fallen into place. 

  The moment your back was turned, tears streamed freely down your broken features.

*

You reread the offer letter for perhaps the seventh time that hour, determined to find some fault with it that you had missed before. Regrettably, you found nothing. It was the perfect promotion. Better pay, better hours, better benefits. There was an apartment available just a short walk from the office and from what you had seen from the online viewing, you couldn’t get a better deal on such an ideal place to live. There wasn’t a single flaw that was reason enough for you to turn it down, except for the fact it was on the other side of the country. 

  It wasn't that big a deal. People moved away all the time, it was a natural part of advancing with your life. It just meant that you would have to leave your friends behind, that you would have to leave her behind. Again, that wasn’t really a bad thing. Maybe distance was the only thing that was finally going to put an end to your insistent feelings for Wanda, who had been happily married for nearly a year. It could finally cease your reluctant ‘what ifs’.

  “I knew you would be here,” she called a second before you heard the car door slam shut. You pocketed your phone and glanced behind you. 

  Wanda strolled up the cliff side towards you as the wind gently caressed her hair, though it didn’t seem to ease the concern written over her features. “You didn’t answer my texts,” she said as she joined you on the hood of your car and overlooked the vast ocean stretched out beyond the drop just metres ahead of you. 

  You knew what she was implying, you always answered her texts so she immediately suspected something was wrong. “Girl troubles?” She asked. You scoffed, Carol (sweet as she was) was the least of your concerns. You had only seen each other a handful of times and it felt more like you were hooking up than establishing something with a deeper potential. 

  “Not exactly,” you told her. 

  “Then what’s up?” She asked, nudging your shoulder lightly. 

  “I got a job offer,” you shrugged. Wanda’s eyes widened and she began to grin. Her excitement was infectious.

  “That’s what you’re moping about?”

  “It’s in California,” you said at once. Wanda’s smile wavered, but she refused to let it visibly disappear when it didn’t change the fact that you had a significant opportunity ahead of you. 

  “Wow,” was all she could say. “Have you talked to Carol about it?” She asked even though you both knew it didn’t make the least bit of difference to the Captain what part of the country you were in. You could be on the other side of the world and she would still visit you as frequently as she did. It was clear that the Sokovian couldn’t think of anything else to ask, but it still irked you that it was Carol’s opinion she enquired about. 

  “No, we don’t talk about that stuff,” you dismissed. 

  “Really? It’s a big deal.” You could see her frowning in your peripheral and it was no secret that Wanda had been trying to get you and the blonde to be something you couldn’t. 

  “It won’t make a difference to how we hook up,” you huffed, growing agitated at your best friend’s blindness to where your interests truly lied. 

  “I thought you two were getting closer,” she said slowly, noting your shift. 

 “Carol and I aren’t going to become anything more, Wanda,” you told her firmly, but she insisted on pushing you further.

  “Why?” It was as if she wanted to see you snap and finally admit-

  “Because she’s not you!” You exclaimed, feeling a sudden rush come over you as you let all of the lies you had been held back by all those years to finally dissipate. Wanda stared at you, stunned. 

 “How long?” The question was almost carried away by the breeze.

  “Years,” you admitted, no point down playing the truth. It wouldn’t make it any easier. 

  “Y/n-” she started but you recognised her voice and you knew what was coming. 

  “Don’t. Please don’t,” you begged, tears brewing in your eyes as you realised this could be your long awaited breaking point in your friendship. It was inevitable. It had been since the first day you met the brunette. 

  You took in each other’s drastically different emotions, confirming the alternate cross roads you were about to take. But if that was to be the case, you wanted to have at least one small victory to take away. You cupped Wanda’s cheek as she had done to you so many times before, never understanding the burn you had felt at her touch at the time. She understood it then though, because the softness of your hand protected her from the winds that were picking up and made it all the more tempting to follow your lead as you closed the gap between you. 

  Sometimes in romance novels, they say that the first kiss was better than either of the characters had dreamt of, but that wasn’t the case with your kiss with Wanda. Sure, her lips fit perfectly against your own and yes, the faint taste of strawberry could have made you light headed with a giddy glee. But your kiss was filled with remorse and regret. There was a striking pain to the way your lips moved together and an overwhelming sense of anguish that neither of you would be able to rid yourselves of for quite some time. 

  Worst of all, that kiss was your unspoken goodbye.

  “I’m sorry, I just wanted the chance to feel as lucky as he does,” you told her as you pulled away entirely. Wanda didn’t respond, you didn’t expect her to. She had already given you more than you ever thought possible. So you got off of the hood of your car and Wanda willed herself to do the same, standing back solemnly as you got in the vehicle she would never join you in again. She couldn’t bring herself to watch you drive, nor could you glance back at your best friend in your mirror.

My fault for falling in love with a straight girl.

[redflagshipwriter]

Nest Swap ch 1

Little Tim wakes up in big Tim's apartment.

The idea came from this chain started by @ew-selfish-art and the contribution by @faeriekit

(repost of something that's currently just in a reblog chain)

His first observation was that this wasn't his house.

Tim was new to detecting, but he thought that was a pretty dang salient observation.

He didn't actually remember going to sleep. It didn't feel like he woke up here, either. He just suddenly noticed he was sitting somewhere he'd never been in his whole 9 years of life.

Very weird! Pretty neat, though.

Tim prowled around in his socked feet in total silence, investigating by the little light that came in through mostly shut curtains. He wasn't in his own clothes, which was kind of scary. He had to keep hiking up his sweatpants to keep them on, and he rolled down his socks three times to tighten them up. At least the floors didn't creak at all, even when he stepped on the dark wood panels in between dark red rugs. It made him feel more secure to move around quietly.

He was in an apartment that seemed relatively expensive but new, no antiques or family heirlooms. It was an open plan, with floating stairs and a white sofa. It was also sterile, as if no one really lived in it. It was clean in the same un-lived in way his house was. Someone professionally cleaned this apartment. 

Tim was really, really careful not to make any mess. 

Theory one: he had been kidnapped. It seemed pretty sound. He went to bed at home, and he woke up sitting on a strange sofa. Danger alarms were going off.

He looked around for a house phone to call for help. There was none. Troubling. 

On the other hand, Tim opened the apartment door to the hallway and stuck his head out. He could see sunlight coming in through the huge lobby windows.

…Okay. He was going to consider that a viable escape route. He glanced at the side of the door where there was a pair of shoes. They were big but he could probably use them in a pinch.

So. He could just walk out at any time. He frowned. That wasn't very good kidnapping practice. He would plan a much better restraint system. Like, a rope would be a good place to start, or maybe breaking the little bones in his feet? 

“This is so disappointing,” Tim muttered to himself. “I'm not even being ransomed?” 

Just… Some effort would be nice.

Hmm. He didn't want to believe anyone that incompetent had managed to transport him into Gotham proper from Bristol while he slept. So. Tim formally recategorized his kidnapping theory to a  suspected no. 

It was undeniable that he'd been moved in his sleep, which was pretty classic. But the counter evidence? The new location looked pretty easy to escape, if he was willing to get his socks dirty outside. 

Conclusion: This probably wasn't a conventional kidnapping. What else was there?

Theory two: he hit his head or fell asleep while he was out birdwatching, and some good person took them into their house to keep him safe.

That neatly explained why he was in the actual city. Tim ran his fingers through his hair looking for a bump. He wasn't sure if he found one or not. Maybe his head was just kind of oddly shaped. Troubling. Maybe he should go to the doctor about that. 

It would have been helpful information either way if there had been another human being around to talk to. 

There were signs that someone lived here. Tim poked around in the closet and in the fridge, building a mental profile for the resident.

One person lived here, and they were clearly kind of a loser because they had no photos of friends or family up. The jacket hanging by the door told Tim they were either an average sized woman or a small man. They couldn't cook at all, which was excellent because that meant there was a really great variety of ready to eat food. Tim snacked on string cheese and a can of soda while he flipped through the books on the shelves.  He pulled a couple off to check for secret compartments. Nope. Just books.

“Boring,” Tim said to himself. 

They were all books about things like business and management. It was the type of self-aggrandizing garbage that his parents made fun of: memoirs that you knew damn well that person hadn't written, manifestos on the virtues of hard work from someone born into the financial elite, and how-to's directed at an audience who had no personal shame.

Momentarily, he entertained the fantasy that he had been kidnapped by someone who was going to mold him into the ideal Drake Industries CEO, someone who wouldn't jet off across the world to follow a passion. The suspects were the entire board of directors. 

Kidnapped theory redux: the Board of Directors did it. Evidence?

Tim sat down and made a chart for his thoughts, quantifying how much each person had been inconvenienced by his parents’ absence in the last fiscal year. He concluded that Mr. Morrison might hate his parents enough to do it, but the projected timeline was beyond his scope. Tim didn't think he had it in him to plan that far out.

So, the apartment owner was just a boring person. Tim made a note. Theory two was looking pretty good. The person who lived here kind of sucked at life but they were probably really nice.

Something started beeping. That was interesting. He followed it to the bedroom that he hadn't been brave enough to poke around yet. There was a weird tablet on the bedside table. He picked it up and it unlocked automatically. Wow, the security was so bad. He felt embarrassed on behalf of the absent apartment owner.

The screen showed an email from someone called Tamara Fox. 

“Tim, can you get me the numbers from the acquisition in Peru?”

He blinked at it. Was the person who lived here also named Tim? Surely she wasn't actually asking him. He looked around uncertainly. 

There was still no one else. The blinking display on the alarm clock told him that it was half past noon, and no one else was in the apartment. 

…. poor Tamara probably really needed that information, if she was asking for it in the middle of the workday. Tim sat down on the bed and started putting together context clothes to figure out what Miss Fox was talking about. Her email signature had her title at Wayne industries listed, so that was a pretty big clue. He had access to a team calendar that showed meetings and ongoing projects, which he used to narrow it down. 

When he figured it out, he sent her back an email and sat back in satisfaction. A moment later, he realized that the email account had an attached auto signature. It claimed to be Tim Drake-Wayne, CEO of Wayne Enterprises. 

What.

He stopped breathing and momentarily considered that he had traveled to the future and this was really his apartment, but the name was impossible. There was no way he was going to marry either one of the Waynes. Bruce and Dick were kind of old. Tim wrinkled his nose at the thought. Gross. 

So, no. He wasn't Tim Drake-Wayne. “...It must be an inside joke,” Tim decided. “It seems really unprofessional.”

Tim was a little disappointed that he wasn't the boss of everyone, but at least he wasn't in a troubling marriage with a huge age difference. He had another cheese stick about it and the feeling went away.  Ah, good. Maybe that was how Mom dealt with Drake Industries: she distracted herself until she didn't feel bad about putting it on the back burner. It was a good tactic. He'd need more cheese sticks. He made a mental note to figure out how to replace these ones.

He found a loose blanket on a side chair and tied it around his shoulders, because the apartment was pretty chilly.

The email dinged again. Tim dragged his blanket cape back into the bedroom and stared at the tablet, lost in thought.

He didn't mean to be annoying. He really didn't. He knew people hated it when you got in their stuff. But the thing was: this guy got a lot of emails. And he wasn't here to answer them, which was pretty rude of him, honestly. It seemed like his job needed him a lot. 

Maybe when he got back, he would be mad at Tim for looking at his stuff. 

On the other hand, maybe he would appreciate it. Tim told himself that it would be fine, and he manned that email account until the end of business hours at 5:00 p.m. Then he gave a luxurious stretch and went to find something interesting in the freezer that he could microwave. 

His feelings about the email account had changed, after the hours spent together. It was their mutual email account now. Tim was willing to fight about it. He was emotionally attached to that email. People asked him all sorts of questions there, and he got to answer. It was pretty fun.

The apartment looked a little friendlier in the early evening light. He crossed it again and pushed a chair up against the deep freezer so that he could root around inside.

“Omigod, lasagne!” Tim ripped the package open in his excitement. Today was the best. He liked this place. Maybe he'd get to stay there when the owner came back to look at their shared email account.

While the lasagne heated, he went back to checking for fake books on the shelf. They were all disappointments. He did finally notice that there were pets here. 

“I should feed you,” Tim told the fish, because he was really fixing this guy's life. The fish didn't pay him any attention. The microwave beeped completion, so he went back and got his lasagne. He held it in one hand and ate while he searched for fish food. When he found it, he stuck his fork in the lasagne to free up a hand and shook flakes into the water. 

A secret compartment in the floor opened up.

Tim froze. He took a step back. He looked around the apartment, as if someone was going to materialize.

“…I might as well go see,” he told himself. “They're already gonna be mad that I answered our email.”

Down he went. 

[sailorholly]

Stressed

Summary: Spencer’s been in a bad mood lately, you help him feel better.

Pairing: Season 5 Spencer Reid x F. Reader

Warnings: Smut. Minors DNI. 18+ ONLY.

W/C: 1.4k

See my Masterlist here

“Who drank the last of the coffee and didn’t make another pot?” Spencer propped up on his cane, asked the crowded police station. One of the officers set his mug down beside the case files spread on the table before him.

“I did. I’m sorry, kid. I didn’t know it was a big deal.” Spencer scoffed. “You didn’t think that anyone else would want coffee, when we have barely had three hours of sleep?” The officer looked stunned, obviously caught off guard by the grumpy FBI agent.

“Kid, like I said, I’m sorry.” Spencer limped over to an empty chair, taking a seat. “Don’t call me kid. It’s Dr. Reid to you.” Hotch shot him a warning glance. “Reid.” Spencer dropped his gaze. The officer put his hands up in defeat, muttering under his breath as he walked away.

You wait until the room clears before going over to Spencer. You walk slowly as if you were approaching a wounded animal. “I started a fresh pot just for you. I’ll bring you a cup when it’s finished.” You smile at him, but he doesn’t return it. “Thanks.”

You can tell he’s still upset. He has been moody for a few weeks. Even though you all had agreed not to profile each other, the team had been taking guesses about what was wrong. You still didn’t have an answer. Hotch tried to speak with him privately, but he wouldn’t open up.

At the end of the day, everyone was glad to be back at the hotel. It wasn’t like the comfort of your homes, but at least it was a place to lay your head down. You all had been running on fumes.

You took a shower, thinking of every detail of the abduction. Something didn’t make sense to you, and you couldn’t get your mind off it. You dried your hair, deciding to knock on Spencer’s door to talk through it.

If anyone could help you figure it out, it was him. He answers the door, looking grouchier than before. “I’m trying to sleep. What do you want?” He snaps. You take in his attire. He’s wearing a cardigan over his button up and dress pants, the same outfit he had on earlier.

You frown, pushing your way into his room. “Since when did you start sleeping in your work clothes?” He closes the door, gripping his cane as he walks toward you sitting on his bed. He sits beside you, keeping his distance.

“You’ve been a real asshole lately, Spencer. It’s so unlike you. Is there anything you want to talk about?” He looks away, avoiding your face. “You can tell me anything. I won’t judge you. I’d love to help you, especially if it gets you out of this bad mood.”

You watch as he considers your words. “Promise you won’t tell anyone?” He asks quietly. You place a hand on your heart. “Cross my heart and hope to die.” The faintest of smiles appears, the first one you’ve seen in a while.

“Now spill.” He sighs. “I am unbelievably stressed. My mom is on a new medication, and she’s giving her doctors a hard time. I got a new neighbor and he plays loud music late at night. I’ve asked him to stop, and he does for a while. Until I go on a case, when I get back, he’s started again. And I’ve been getting these headaches that won’t go away.”

He rubs his left eye, shoulders sinking in relief after he confessed. “Well, all those are valid reasons to be stressed. You really need to get laid.” You giggle, elbowing his side. “I’ve tried.” You stop laughing. You weren’t expecting a sincere answer. You were only joking.

“Wait, you’ve tried to have sex, but can’t find a partner?” You ask, a little surprised. “Yeah, I think it’s my awkwardness paired with the cane. It freaks them out. They probably think I’m an unsub.” He pushes his hair behind his ear.

“I like the cane.” You admit. “Really?” He raises an eyebrow. “Yeah! I think it’s sexy. Don’t take this the wrong way, but couldn’t you just take care of yourself?” You wince. You were having the most awkward conversation of your life with your favorite coworker.

“I tried that. But I couldn’t finish. My mind would race with a million thoughts. It kills the mood.” You lower yourself to the floor, getting on your knees in front of him. “Wha.. what are you doing?” Spencer asks nervously, his voice raising.

“Helping.” You state matter of factly. You unbutton his pants, pulling the zipper down. You’re careful when you tug his pants and underwear down his legs, going slowly so you don’t hurt him. He takes a deep breath when you wrap both hands around his hard cock.

You lower your head toward his lap, taking him between your lips. You suck slowly, waiting for his reaction. He lets out a shaky breath when you take him to the back of your throat. You suck harder now, saliva dripping down your chin.

Spencer watches you intently. He can’t believe this is happening. All the nights he had laid in bed, imagining this exact scenario as he pleasured himself. His biggest fantasy was playing out before him. He grips the white comforter on the bed with one hand, the other holds your head in place as you bob up and down on him.

This was too much. He was going to come, and he hadn’t seen you naked yet. “Come up here, I want to touch you.” He sounds almost like he’s begging. You release him, standing to remove your clothing. “Take everything off.” You command as your panties hit the floor.

He wastes no time, throwing his cardigan and shirt beside your discarded clothes. He didn’t even unbutton his shirt. You didn’t know how he managed to get it off. “Lay back against the pillows.” He scoots until his back hits the cushiony wall. You climb on top of him, legs positioned around his hips.

You start grinding against him. The head of his cock rubbing against your clit. He tilts his head back, greasy curls splayed out on the pillows. You pepper kisses against the sensitive skin of his neck, while large hands cup your breasts.

He tugs at your nipples, rolling them between calloused fingers. You feel your arousal dripping down your thighs. You couldn’t remember a time when you were more turned on. “I want you to sit on my face.” You notice the faint blush rising on his cheeks as he said the words. “You sure?” He nods his head, confirming. “I want to taste you.”

You place your thighs on either side of his head. He kisses your inner thigh, working his way up to where you need him the most. His curious tongue meets your center, collecting your arousal and bringing it to your clit. He moans, the sound vibrating against you. You clamp your legs tighter around his ears, letting him devour you.

His tongue swirls around you expertly. He could be writing in Morse Code for all you know. You reach for the headboard when his lips wrap around your most sensitive spot. The suction and heat of his mouth tip you over the edge. You reluctantly remove yourself from him, still feeling needy.

“I need you inside of me.” You kiss above his belly button and his cock twitches. “I can’t get on top because of my leg.” He points to the offending appendage like you had forgotten about it. You beam at him, as you you straddle him once more. “I got this.” You line yourself up with his hard length, sinking down on him.

He gasps when he fills you all the way. You move yourself on top of him, placing your hands on his shoulders for support. You rock your hips back and forth, letting your head tip back when he brushes your g-spot. You call his name, tilting your hips so he hits it again.

“You like that?” Spencer asks, gripping your hips, working your body with his. You feel the pressure building inside you. It’s unbelievable. You’re lucky if you get off once during sex, and your second orgasm is quickly approaching. Spencer feels you clenching around him.

“Already?” He is in complete awe of you. You were even better than he imagined. “Oh God, Spencer! I’m so close.” His hands hold you harder. He sits up, pressing his chest flush against yours. Your peaked nipples rub against his chest, adding fuel to the flames.

He removes a hand from your waist, bringing it down between you. The pad of his thumb drags across your clit, making you writhe with pleasure. He looks down at where you’re joined, admiring the view. “You’re taking me so well, Angel.” He swirls fast circles against you, and your orgasm rolls over you in waves.

Spencer watches as you come undone. He follows closely behind you, a string of curses leaving his lips. You bury your head in the crook of his neck, breathing heavily. “I need to be in a bad mood more often.” Spencer thinks out loud, his lips curling upward into a smile.

Tagging some people I think would like this.

@cindylynn @potter-puff007 @multifandom-worlds @mochie85 @wheredafandomat @cynbx @lamentis-10 @megharat-barnes @anonymously-ominous @kats72 @vivian-555 @itzdarling @emarich7 @nomajdetective @aelinismyqueen @wildernessflora @academiareid

[moonstruckme]

so i read somewhere that sometimes a better response to someone struggling with depression is warmth, rather than positivity and i was thinking if you’d be interested in writing a bau!reader x spencer pre-relationship or established relationship whichever u prefer!! where he comforts a depressed reader having a rougher couple of days & is very gentle and understanding and warm towards her 💘

Thank you for requesting lovely <3

cw: depression

Spencer Reid x bau!reader ♡ 638 words

You’ve been completely useless through this whole case. You’d sat with the team during various briefings, gone along to view crime scenes and question witnesses, but your brain just wasn’t working hard enough to put anything together. Lately, the effort of cranking the gears is too much. 

You’re considering leaving the rest of your paperwork for another day. You want to not be here so badly. You want your bed. You want to stop being a burden to the team that’s been carrying your dead weight for the past couple of days (and giving you increasingly inquisitive looks throughout that time), and to go home and sleep the weekend away. 

It’s a testament to your fatigue that you smell the coffee before you hear Spencer approaching. Morgan would hand you your ass if he knew. 

“Thanks,” you say, making an effort to smile at Spencer as he sets the plain ceramic mug on your desk. The coffee inside is barely brown, letting you know that he’s already loaded it down with cream and sugar the way you like. 

“Seems like you might have a long night.” He leans back against your desk and braces his hands on either side of his hips, nodding towards your paperwork. 

You shrug. “I don’t know, I’m thinking of leaving it for Monday. Strauss doesn’t need my report that badly.” 

Spencer nods again. “Are you doing okay?” 

“Yeah.” You blow gently on your coffee, wishing the aroma brought you the same sense of contentment it usually does. “Why?” 

“You never let your paperwork sit overnight,” he says. “And you’re not eating as much, having trouble concentrating, looking tired all the time…” Spencer pauses, meeting your eyes. It’s an effort not to drop your gaze. He sounds like he’s been adding things up for a while. “Do you need anything?” 

You smile again. It feels better this time, more genuine. “I’m just having a tough couple of days,” you tell him. “It happens to me sometimes, it’ll pass. But thank you.” 

Spencer’s face smooths out and pinches all at once. For a profiler, he’s shockingly horrible at controlling his expressions. Or maybe he just doesn’t feel the need to around your team. You read him plain as text: relief at having an identified problem, distress at the lack of an easy solution. 

You know he means well, but you can’t stick around to bear the weight of any more disappointment.

“I think I’m going to head out,” you do your best to sound calm, reassuring, as you gather your bag from beneath your desk. “See you Monday, Spence.” 

“Wait.” You pause, but then Spencer’s falling into step beside you, grabbing his bag to follow you to the exit. “Do you want to come over?” 

You look at him, surprised. “To your place?” 

He nods. “Yeah, there’s a marathon of the Jurassic Park movies on tonight. We could watch them and order pizza, or whatever you want.” 

A little laugh startles out of you. The sensation feels odd and atavistic, like a bubble popping in your chest. “You like Jurassic Park?” 

“I like talking about how unfeasible it is,” Spencer says, pressing the button on the elevator. “Did you know velociraptors were about the size of a large bird?” 

“...I did not.” 

“Probably because you watched Jurassic Park.” He smiles, and you can’t help but copy him. “Really, I’m not attached to the idea of watching them. We can do whatever you want.” 

The inside of your lip finds its way between your teeth, but Spencer glances down and you release it. “I’m not sure I can pass up the opportunity to witness that much berating,” you say. “How many are there?” 

“Six, not including two short films or the animated series.” 

“Will you hold it against me if I fall asleep?” 

“Not at all.”

[shalotttower]

The Art of Disappearing (part 1)

Title: The Art of Disappearing Fandom: Resident Evil Village Characters: Lady Dimitrescu x Reader (female) Summary: Lady Dimitrescu enjoys wine; you enjoy living. You pray to god those don't overlap. Word count: 1800+ Notes: mentions of death, implied torture and violence, NSFWish, WINE Part 2

Hiding in plain sight is a skill honed by necessity here.

Melt seamlessly into the decor of drapes and velvet curtains until you're indistinguishable from them. Become wallpaper with eyes that stare and mouths that don't open, and arms that only pick, and pass, and scrub, and fold.

You're not the girl who was locked in the cellar last week.

You're not the girl who dropped a plate yesterday.

You're not the girl whose blood got so deep into the dining room rug that it's better off being burned.

You want to say that you won't be that girl, but you can't promise anything anymore except that dinner is at 6 o'clock every evening unless stated otherwise by Lady Dimitrescu. Your schedule revolves around hers entirely, like planets rotating around their dying sun, even if it's not your shift. There's no such thing as a day off in the castle.

But there're such things as a quiet day, or a normal day, or a bad one.

Today is a bad one.

Lady Dimitrescu's favourite lipstick is missing.

It's a very rare, expensive shade, like the red shell of a ladybug, or the last breath of a maiden. Your ears pick up the word being murmured from one maid to another — 'if anyone sees the item, return it to the Lady's vanity immediately'.

You hope that someone finds it soon. Nobody here is dumb enough to steal, so it's probably forgotten somewhere. But you don't say it of course, because Her Ladyship doesn't forget anything and you still need your tongue intact.

---

Lady Dimitrescu likes wine; you enjoy living.

You pray that the two never overlap.

So far luck has been on your side — for six months now you've been working in the castle. You've cleaned stains from carpets and floors without asking what they are (because it was clear even without questions); polished silverware until you could see yourself reflected in them and arranged flowers countless times to learn which ones Lady favors over others.

You were a mouth that didn't speak and eyes that saw nothing. A piece of furniture with legs and arms.

As long as you do your job and keep a low profile, you're safe. Humans thrive in delusion, and so do you. It keeps you sane, what an oxymoron that is.

---

At three in the afternoon, you clean the bathrooms.

Bela is the neatest among the three, and Cassandra leaves everything scattered around for maids like you to collect and place where it's supposed to be. Daniela is... unique. You're not sure how she manages to get stains and fingerprints on such random surfaces. Sometimes you wonder if she does it on purpose.

Daniela loves fun surprises.

Like sneaking up on you when you're on your knees, scrubbing the tub. She pokes your shoulder. "Hiya."

Your heart drops into your stomach.

"Lady Daniela," you greet while trying not to let your hands shake under the apron.

She's smiling sweetly today, like she didn't just scare ten years out of you. You're not fooled and know better than to trust that expression. Nothing in this castle is innocent and saccharine and nice. Especially not the daughters.

"Can I help you with anything, my lady?"

Please say "no" and leave.

Daniela rocks on her heels then leans forward, inspecting your work.

"Maybe. Maybe not."

She's bored, you realize. Great. Bored means unpredictable behavior, and unpredictable behavior means trouble for everyone else who isn't Daniela herself. You wait for whatever she wants — entertainment? food? — patiently despite the churning in your gut.

"I'm bored," she announces.

"Yes, my lady."

"Let's play a game. Hide and seek, like little ones."

Six months have yet to make the instinctive urge to flee within you die out whenever one of them wants something from you directly. You'd think that this whole time might've increased your chances of survival, but humans thrive in delusion. In reality, everything is a gamble here. An embroidery of chance and circumstances that determines if you will live another day, that's all.

"I would be honored, my lady."

The bathrooms must be finished by five, and it's almost four. You're not going to make it on time.

"Who is going to hide first?" You ask after a moment.

Daniela claps. "Well you, of course, silly!"

Of course.

---

Hiding in plain sight is a skill honed by necessity here. Melting seamlessly into the decor of drapes and velvet curtains.

But you're not a vase or a coat rack. You're just a girl who's been in the castle for a while and has gotten good at being invisible. You can't hide your heart beat. Your scent and the warmth of your skin are impossible to erase.

"Ready or not, here I come!" Daniela's sing-song voice carries from the other end of the west wing, and then fades.

She didn't count to ten. You know because you've been counting along, just to have an idea of how much time there's left until she finds you. There're no harbored hopes about the opposite happening. Hide and seek is one of Daniela's favourite games, and she dedicates herself to it thoroughly, with great interest.

It's not about winning the game — that much you realized early on when she played against other maids, plucking one out and chasing her around the castle before dissolving into flies with a cackle.

It's about the entertainment good enough to satiate her.

You're not the most agile, not the fastest. Even after six months your knowledge of the castle's layout is patchy, but you try to think logically. What places will she check last? What will Daniela expect you to choose?

Closets are off limits. So is the library, unless you want Bela on your tail as well.

Your mind wanders.

There're so many rooms in this castle that you haven't seen once during all of your shifts. You're always cleaning hallways, sometimes the daughters' parlors, and nothing more.

Down the stairs, past the servant quarters, is a place where rumors are born. Of thick barrels stacked to the ceiling like dominoes and wine in various stages of production. It smells sour-sweet down there — like fruit rotting in August.

Wine that never runs out in Dimitrescu castle as long as there're maids.

That's what others say, at least. Nobody has come back to confirm.

Would she look in the cellar? Would anyone?

It's the last place you'd search if you were looking for someone insignificant and replaceable.

You take off your shoes so that your steps don't echo in the expanse of marble and stairs.

---

There're all kinds of things down here. Broken furniture that's been tossed aside for disposal, boxes and crates of unidentified items, old paintings of people you don't recognize.

And wine.

A lot of it in barrels and bottles, some of which are labeled, some aren't. You walk past them, following the corridors of dusty brick. The air smells like mold and fermentation, damp. It reminds you of the lakeside by your grandmother's cottage in summertime and you feel strangely nostalgic.

You miss home.

The thought is dangerous and you quickly push it away, back to where it belongs — in your memories. Home doesn't exist anymore.

Time passes. Minutes go by without the sounds of buzzing swarms or doors creaking open somewhere nearby. No voices either, except for your own breathing and heartbeat that fill up every corner of silence. You find a nook between the stacked barrels and settle there with your knees pulled to your chest.

The place is colder, uncomfortably so. Cool ground sends its chill through your stockings.

You've done everything you could. Found a good hiding spot, a perfect one, and it's out of your control from here on.

The art of disappearing is simple: be nothing and wait until time decides if you're worth staying like that or not.

---

Daniela finds you after your legs start to numb from sitting.

"Found you," she grins from ear to ear.

Her flies settle as she solidifies into flesh with a giggle, girlish and mischievous. It could be cute if not the bloody smudges around her mouth and chin. She crouches down in front of you, close enough for you to see the specks of gold in her eyes.

"Congratulations, Lady Daniela."

Your fingers dig into your skirts.

Daniela tilts her head; a fly crawls on her cheek before taking off. "I win! I get my prize now."

You didn't know you were playing for a prize. But nobody tells you anything in this castle until it's too late, like that you're not supposed to open windows in winter, or that you can't touch Daniela's books because she has them organized alphabetically.

"What would you like, my lady?"

Another fly lands on your lips, a thick creature with translucent wings and little fuzzy legs. They tickle but you resist the urge to make a face lest she takes it as an insult. At your question her expression turns impish, one of those you never fail to associate with trouble.

She reaches into your apron's pocket... and pulls out a lipstick.

You stare at it — a simple elegant tube with a golden cap.

"Look what I found!" Daniela waves it in front of your face like it's a toy.

Your blood freezes over. How did it end up there? You've been working for hours today yet you don't recall ever picking it up off anywhere. Where-

"My lady, I didn't take it!" you blurt out in horror, when it dawns on you. "I swear, I wouldn't! I would never-"

Daniela blinks owlishly and then breaks into laughter, clutching her stomach. Her smile is so wide that you can see her gums stained with coagulated blood which makes your stomach turn. The flies swarm and dissipate around you both, disturbed by her unrestrained mirth.

"Silly," she interrupts your stammering. "I know! You should've seen your face!"

Oh thank god.

You're so relieved that for a second all air leaves your lungs.

"...you tricked me?" you ask quietly after a moment, a bit more composed now when the accusation of theft doesn't hang over your head.

"Mhm," Daniela nods and wipes tears from her eyes, still giggling.

You're not sure if it was funny to anyone except her.

Her smile lessens gradually and eventually vanishes from her lips altogether when the initial amusement wears off. Something coy appears in her demeanor, sheepish even, as she fiddles with the lipstick in silence.

"Can you put it back in mother's vanity?" she grabs your hand suddenly and places it into your palm.

That's when you realize that you never even once questioned where she got it from. But Daniela gives you a pout with a warning look, like she's able to tell exactly what you're thinking. All questions die instantly on your tongue; you nod.

"Yes, my lady. Of course."

"Good," she pats your knee. "Don't forget! Or I'll eat you."

Flies descend onto your skirt, buzzing around Daniela's fingers until she disappears into dozens of black insects.

You know that she meant every word.

[mt-oe]

𝘾𝙤𝙢𝙚 𝙖𝙨 𝙔𝙤𝙪 𝘼𝙧𝙚—bandmate mizu hcs

✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧

Hey dears!

I've been listening to an old playlist I made when I still had time to listen to various genres of music and nostalgia hit me in such a good way.

Hope that you will find much fun in these headcanons as much as I had fun writing them <3

Enjoy! Mwa mwa :*

warnings: not proofread, she/her for mizu, implied afab reader

note/s: manager reader; mizu has a crush on you

✦ She plays both electric guitar and bass. She'd be sporting a white Epiphone 1961 Les Paul SG Standard, a graduation gift from her step father. Since it had so much sentimental value to her, she never really got around to replacing it. But when she got her first job, she spent the first few months saving up for her bass which was a Fender American Performer Mustang Bass.

You'll never see her in the studio without it. She even keeps it by her side when everyone's taking a small snack break. It's like they're her babies.

One time Taigen tried playing with it while Mizu was in the restroom and everyone was surprised at how fast she came out of the comfort room to smack him on the head with a force so heavy the smack sound echoed around. With that incident, everyone knew not to touch her instruments.

✦ Dresses up either in the typical oversized shirt and baggy pants...or like Kurt Cobain. You cannot change my mind. End of conversation.

✦ Mizu would be the type of member who has argued or fought with every one at least once. It didn't matter how insignificant the issue was. If she didn't like what she saw or what was happening, she doesn't hesitate to speak up about it. This, of course, led to arguments and fights that you often had to mediate.

Why you? It's because she never really listens to anyone else. If anyone else broke up the fight, she'd fight with them as well.

"Mizu," you sighed out, crossing your arms and staring at her with an unamused look.

When you arrived at the studio, Ringo had immediately informed you that Mizu and Akemi were arguing yet again. The atmosphere inside was so thick, you could probably cut it with a knife. This led you to pulling Mizu out of band practice to have a talk with her.

She leaned against the wall, crossing her arms back. Her head was turned towards another direction, not really able to look at you. "It's her damn fault. Her and her old man," she simply replied, making you sigh yet again.

"I know you're annoyed at her dad for interrupting our practice again but you know you can't argue with Akemi all the time," you responded, unfolding your arms and placing a hand on her shoulder. "We need both of you in this band, y'know?"

Her body tensed up slightly when she felt your hand make contact with her shoulder, a blush forming on her cheeks ever so slightly. Fuck you're so cute. She glanced at you before pushing herself off of the wall, rubbing a hand over her face, seemingly annoyed. "Fine, fine. I'll apologize," she grumbled

You smiled at her, making her glance at you again. "Thanks, Mizu."

When both of you returned inside, she immediately apologized to Akemi like a brat who was scolded. But Mizu knew she'd argue with Akemi again the next time her dad barges in the studio. She's just trying to please you for now.

✦ If she isn't playing, she'll be sitting all by herself, researching about where to buy instruments and paraphernalia or watching recordings of another band's recent gig. Ringo would often join her when he spots her. His sudden appearance often makes her jump. At first, it would just be Ringo talking about his day, then what he ate, then the new songs he discovered from the smart shuffle feature of Spotify to which Mizu would either respond by not saying anything or just nodding.

When Ringo spots her looking for better instruments, he'll start talking about second-hand equipment and old but gold repair shops. Although it seems like Mizu isn't listening to him, you'll spot her checking the seller's profile or going to the shop itself on her free time even if she had no intention in buying anything.

✦ Has the most random playlist among everyone in the band. While everyone had a main genre they stuck to, such as Taigen with grunge, Akemi with pop, and Ringo with country, Mizu just listens to whatever. As long as it sounds good, she adds it to her playlist.

And mind you, she just dumps all the songs in ONE playlist.

You tried listening to it once and hearing AC/DC's Back in Black after listening to Twice's TT followed by bouquet by Ichiko Aoba was not something you'd expect to hear in that order.

She gets embarrassed when she finds out you listened to her playlist but doesn't make it obvious. The next time you look at her profile, you'll find a playlist named "you, it's always you" and it's just filled with love songs and songs about having a crush.

✦ Along with the previous, their opponents during battle of the bands competitions often underestimate her. The other competitors would be so confused because why is this dude listening to Tchaikovsky backstage instead of practicing his rifts?

Mizu was simply chilling backstage, earphones in, listening to her random ass playlist again when a shadow looms over her. She looks up and sees Akemi, staring at her and saying something she could not hear.

She removes an earbud, raising an eyebrow at their vocalist in a seemingly annoyed manner. "Your music is too loud. We can hear it from the dressing room," Akemi points out, crossing her arms. She leans forward and looks at Mizu's phone before letting out an amused huff. "Don't you think listening to Hamilton before the competition is a bit weird?" she asks with a smirk.

The other bands sitting around and eavesdropping on the two whispered, glancing at them. Hamilton? Really? Before a battle of the bands competition? Bud is already throwing away his shot, they thought.

The guitarist simply grunts at her, shrugging her shoulders at her. "This is none of your business. Go warm up or something," she replies before putting her earbud back in and closing her eyes as she leaned back against the chair. Akemi rolled her eyes before walking off, probably to find the rest of the band.

When they get up on stage, everybody already thinks the guitarist doesn't know shit. But man, the look on everyone's faces when she starts playing Chopsuey? Goddamn.

Goddamn.

✦ Unlike the others members, she doesn't actively try to build connections with other bands. Once the competition is over, everyone except Mizu is out their mingling with other bands. You're out there talking with your fellow managers, Ringo is talking about food with the other bands for some reason, and Taigen is out there attracting the other women which leads to Akemi dragging him by the ear. Mizu is just...there.

She finds interacting with other people unnecessary. She also has her moments when she recognizes and wants to talk to someone from another band but she's too awkward to talk to them. What she'll do is just stare at them from a distance and wait for someone to introduce them to her.

"You're burning a hole through their heads," Taigen comments, sitting down next to Mizu on the equipment crate and propping his leg up. Mizu grunts in acknowledgement of his comment but continues to stare at the other band. "They probably think you're a weirdo," he laughs.

She glares at him for a brief moment before looking at the band at a distance again. "They had a gig in the bar near our studio. Pretty impressive," she explains. Taigen nods, now staring at the band too.

The both of them watch as you approached the band of interest, cheery and bubbly. Almost immediately, you were already chatting it up out there.

A manager's skill probably.

Mid-conversation, you felt someone watching you so you turned around, eyes meeting with the two. Your smile widened, making the two of them stand up, knowing what was about to happen. They watched as you talked with the other band again. Suddenly, they looked at Taigen and Mizu's direction and approached them with you by their side.

"And these are my bandmates!" you introduced, moving over to their side. Just as Mizu was about to shake the vocalist's hands, the vocalist from the other band immediately patted her shoulder. "You're that person from one of our gigs! So how was it?"

The introvert in her was thanking you so much.

✦ She's a lady killer, but she's also very awkward when women approach her. As much as Mizu is pretty, Mizu is undeniably very handsome as well. Let's be honest, who wouldn't be attracted to a tall, well-built guitarist with an aloof aura and the sexiest deep voice you've ever heard?

The problem was, she didn't really know how to interact with them. The moment someone tries to hit on her, she's either frozen stiff or already planning her escape.

Mizu could not do anything but stare at what had landed on her feet.

It was a bra. With someone's number on it.

"Call me! Please!" someone from the audience screamed. She looked around in confusion before looking at the article of underwear by her feet with her eyes narrowed. Slowly, she bent down and picked it up, holding it by the straps.

Holy shit these were big.

What the hell was she supposed to do with this? Throw it back to the owner? Poor Mizu was lost. She continued to hold it up awkwardly, trying to figure out what should she do. If you hadn't told her to toss it you, she'd probably still be staring at it by the next song.

And you'd think people would stop doing that, but no. In fact, the amount of women hitting on her backstage increased. The little incident on stage somehow increased her charm with the ladies. Because holy shit...she plays both guitar and bass, both tall and well-built, looks so fucking good in a relaxed fit, can be both pretty and handsome at the same time, has an aloof and mysterious aura, AND she's awkward?? Sign me up. Sign me the fuck up.

✦ Unintentionally gets good venues for gigs. That's why you always bring her with you when talking to the owner of the venue. None of you really know how she does it, but she does?

"For the last time, I'm telling you. We've already booked enough performers for this month," the owner grumbled, glaring at you and your persistence.

You frowned at him, clasping your hands in front. "Please! We just need a gig to fund a new amplifier," you begged, giving the owner doe eyes. To no avail, the old man wouldn't budge...is what you thought.

Mizu saw your frown and knitted eyebrows and decided that it was a good time to approach you. She looked at you before looking at the owner with narrowed eyes, almost like a glare. "Is there a problem?" she asked, stepping forward and closer to the owner, stopping only once she was almost face-to-face with him. Her sharp blue eyes stared at his, piercing through his soul.

The owner stepped back a bit, looking up at her before shaking his head. "No no, we were only uh...talking about which time slot you wanted next week!" he said awkwardly, rubbing the back of his head.

Upon hearing this, you immediately perked up and gently pushed Mizu aside. "What? Really?!" you exclaimed, holding on to the guitarist's arm in excitement. The owner nervously glanced back at Mizu, who was still looking at him with the same intimidating stare, before nodding in clear defeat.

After you had negotiated with him, the two of you left with a smile. "That went supeeer well!" you laughed out, looking over at Mizu. "What'd you do anyway?" You grasped her arm, shaking it slightly.

She shrugged, looking anywhere but at you to conceal her blush. "Beats me. I just looked over to see what you were frowning at."

✦ She doesn't like singing even if she sounds pretty good. Everyone in the band, except you, has heard her sing and has tried to convince her to be the lead vocalist for at least one song but is always greeted with a "no" or a "shut the fuck up". She WILL do the back up voice but she feels too insecure about how deep and husky her voice is so it's rare.

You didn't know she didn't like singing though and on one faithful occasion...

You opened the door to the studio and was immediately greeted by the sight of Mizu sitting on the floor with her guitar in hand. The two of you arrived pretty early so the rest weren't there yet. Her guitar was unplugged and it seems like she was looking up songs on her phone.

"Hey..." you greeted her quietly, to which she nodded. "What's up?"

She looked up from her phone before sitting up straight and propping her phone on her thigh, getting ready to play. For a moment, she did not do anything but stare at what was on her phone before looking at you.

"Want to hear me sing?"

You looked at her with wide eyes, a smile slowly tugging on the corner of your lips. Despite her question catching you off guard, it was still a welcomed surprise. You nodded and sat down on the floor next to her, leaning against her slightly.

Her breath hitched upon feeling you so close to her before she slowly relaxed and started strumming on the unplugged guitar. At first, she started strumming a bunch of random chords to calm her nerves. Once you heard the first few chords, you immediately recognized the song.

"If I could begin to be half of what you think of me, I could do about anything..." she sang, strumming on her guitar softly. "I could even learn how to love."

The way she was singing the song so shyly yet so tenderly warmed you up.

Each strum.

Each word.

Each pluck .

It was like she was singing the song with someone special in mind. You leaned closer to her, resting your head against her shoulder, not minding how much it was moving.

She moved her shoulder a bit lower so you could fully rest your head against it, still singing. "Look at you go. I just adore you." She glanced at you for a moment before continuing. "I wish that I knew...what makes you think I'm so special."

A small smile also tugged on her lips as she looked at you. You looked so peaceful. You felt so peaceful. Like you were enjoying your time with her as she continued to sing. "When I see the way you way you look shaken by how long it took, I could do about anything.."

"I could even learn how to love like you"

[womenloverlmao]

Forgot Something?

(Yes, someone else has probably written this but I decided to write one of my own :)

TW: normal criminal minds shit.

Summary: Reader is set on the fact that Spencer forgot something when he got called into a case late but he cant figure out what that could be.

Imagine season 4 Spence? Possibly? I don't even know man. 

You and Spencer had gotten used to not always being together. You and agent… or, rather, Dr. Spencer Reid, resident genius and pretty boy of the BAU had been together for around a year and a half. It was a lot, but you grew used to it. 

After coming to terms with the fact that you wouldn’t always have your boyfriend around, you learned to value the time you spent with him. Moments like this; you were curled up together, the result of coaxing your germaphobe out of his comfort zone (and into another). Lying on your sides, his head against your chest with your leg over his waist. You would have fallen asleep there if it weren’t for that sound. 

Oh, that God-forsaken sound. 

The sound of Spencer’s phone going off. Sure, you were used to him going away for cases, but that sound honestly caused a trauma response. You removed your leg from him as he went to get his phone from the bedside table. He picked up, and said some stereotypical responses… well, the stereotype when you went to work on profiling rapists, bombers, murderers… you get the gist. 

He got up and changed, before grabbing his bag that he always had ready. You quickly followed behind him. Sure, you were only in a ragged t-shirt and panties, but you weren’t the one leaving. It was around ten at night. You wouldn’t have realized that he had muted himself if you didn’t see him unmuting. “Yes, I’ll be there in fifteen,” he said. “Okay, thank you. Got it.” 

You grabbed your arm as whoever it was on the other end hung up. “I’m sorry…” he tried to start. 

“No, don’t apologize, Spence. It’s your job. I’m not upset, I promise,” you cut him off. 

“I still feel awful.” 

“Don’t. You’re gonna go save some people, or whatever it is that you do,” you smile. 

“Well, technically-” 

“Spence, I’m gonna repeat the ‘don’t’. Go do your job, okay, baby?” 

He sighed. “Okay…” He walked to the door, almost opening it before you stop him. 

“Where do you think you’re going?” You asked. 

“I thought- I thought you just told me to do my job?” He responded. 

“I did, but not when you forgot something.” 

You could see the gears in his brain turning as he tried to remember what it was that he could have forgotten. There was nothing, he had every single thing in his bag. He could so clearly picture everything he had put in there. “Forgot something? No, I have an-” 

“Eidetic memory, I know.”

“I didn’t forget anything?” 

“Yes, you did,” you stayed on your point. 

“What did I forget?” He was genuinely confused. 

You rolled your eyes. “Where’s my kiss, Spencer?” 

He had an ‘oh shit’ moment in his head. “That’s… what I forgot?” 

You nodded. He couldn’t help but laugh a little, you had him fully convinced he forgot something for a minute. He walks over again and presses a gentle kiss to your lips. “Better?” he asks.

“Yep.” You smiled. 

He kissed your forehead. “I love you, lock the door behind me, okay? Make sure to check if all the-” “Windows are locked, I know,” you said. 

He reached the door, and he was mildly hesitant to open it. “I’ll be okay,” you assured him. 

“I know, I just…” “I can stay with my parents, too, if that’ll make you feel better.” 

“It’s not about that, I just sometimes wish that I could be here with you,” he admitted. 

You walked over to him, giving him one final kiss. “I know, but they need you out there. I can last a couple of days on my own every week.” He calmed down after the kiss. “Okay.” 

“Now, go, you’re gonna be late.” 

“I love you,” he told you again. 

“I know, I love you too,” you responded. He walked out of the apartment, leaving you alone. Yes, it was upsetting to be alone most of the time. You locked the door and made sure the windows were locked before you laid down again. 

Sure, lonely nights were sucky, but… you knew it was for a reason. And no matter what, you were grateful to have Dr. Spencer Reid as your boyfriend.