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Dog with No Teeth // Chapter Three

Simon "Ghost" Riley x Female Reader

Chapter Specific Warnings (MDNI): post-apocalypse au, swearing, dubcon showering, dubcon nudity, power imbalance, sexual tension, brief description of canon-typical violence

Word Count: 4.4k

You and Ghost shower together. He answers your questions. The reality of your situations comes to light.

Chapter Two // Chapter Four

ao3 // main masterlist // dog with no teeth masterlist

Carapace nest. Gator teeth. Swamp water.

Survival. Survival. Survival.

“You should shower. Enjoy the hot water.” Ghost grasps the bottom of your chin, tilting your face upward. You’re unable to look away. “Promise I won’t look.”

Empty words. Nothing more than a tree hollowed-out by rot.

You slap Ghost’s hand away, uncaring if the action will draw his anger. The brute doesn’t flinch. Doesn’t blink.

“Don’t touch me,” you growl, forcing yourself to hold eye contact with him.

With a soft snort of amusement, Ghost’s head tilts slightly, gaze assessing. You won’t be the first to blink—the first to look away. Glancing down is a show of submission, and you refuse to bow out and make yourself appear weak. It hurts though. A deep pain like a drill to your skull.

Rolling his shoulders, Ghost retreats a step.

It’s a small thing, and you should feel victorious. Yet it’s more like permission, as if he’s allowing this behavior by the grace of his sincerity. The urge to break eye contact flares hotter—bites deeper—and Ghost’s refusal to drop his gaze only makes it that much harder.

Backward step after backward step. A languid sway until he reaches the chair. He slowly eases down into it, sighing loudly, stretching his legs until he’s spread out and comfortable. Relaxed and unhurried, Ghost begins to remove his gloves, absently tossing them onto the floor, revealing tattooed knuckles. Flexing his fingers, Ghost forms a fist, and then relaxes the tendons, repeating the process a few times.

Leaning forward, Ghost starts to unlace his boots. There is no hurry to it. The fact that he’s completely comfortable grates at your patience. He slips off one boot and moves to the other. He reaches for his weapons next, removing his pistol and knives.

“Enjoying the show, love?” he asks dryly.

You roll your eyes and remain mute.

This power dynamic is frustrating, and you’re sick of him pushing your buttons, forcing you into corners. Only moments ago, Ghost was telling you to strip down and shower, to give him something to watch.

No. You’re not playing this game.

If he’s so goddamn adamant about you dipping under the hot water, then so fucking be it. If he wants you to shower—you’ll fucking shower. He wants to see you naked and dripping wet? Fucking fine.

You’ll put on a goddamn show.

Bending forward, you reach for your boots, unlacing then kicking them to the side. Ghost notices, his gaze drifting upward yet he remains silent, his movements staying steady and unhurried. It’s when you wrench your jacket off and start lifting your shirt that Ghost begins to slow. The dirty, blood-drenched shirt crackles as you pull it up and over your head. You drop it onto the floor without giving it a second glance.

Ghost has his hands on his belt, but it’s almost like he’s not moving at all. His gaze lingers on you, and though you pretend not to notice, his chest heaves slightly. Reaching behind your back, you pop the clips on your bra. The flimsy material slides away. Behind the skull mask, Ghost’s eyes grow wide.

You don’t allow yourself space to linger on what you’re doing or if this is a radically poor decision. As the bra hits the ground, you’re already undoing the front of your pants, shoving them down along with your underwear, revealing everything.

You unfurl slowly. Full frontal and bold.

Ghost is motionless. All you can see are his eyes as they dart around, taking in your nakedness. You retain that eye contact, daring him to say anything, to give himself a good look since he wanted it so badly.

Those brown eyes of his roam up, connecting with your gaze. He stills. Coughs. Clears his throat. Glances away.

Fucking men.

You extend your arms out slightly like you’re presenting yourself for his inspection. “Are you?” you counter before placing your hands on your hips.

Ghost keeps his gaze averted, unspeaking.

With victory singing beneath your skin, you turn right, striding toward the shower. The promise of hot water is tantalizing. Not that you don’t have hot water where you’re from, but it’s not automatic. It’s not available with a simple turn of a handle. That’s a luxury from before, and it shouldn’t exist. Yet it apparently exists here.

The promise of a hot shower nearly overtakes whatever adrenaline-fueled nonsense that drove you to strip down in front of Ghost. Now, you’re naked and vulnerable and trapped in a room with him. There is no place for you to flee to. No chance for escape. No privacy.

With your back to the room, you place your hand on the knob below the showerhead. It gives easily under your palm. There’s a rattle—a clanking coming from behind the wall—then water shoots out.

You gasp, stepping back.

It’s ice fucking cold.

The bastard lied. He lied.

Your nipples harden, and your skin pebbles. Instinct kicks in, and you cross your arms over your chest, covering your breasts in a protective gesture.

But just as you’re about to turn away from the icy spray—to curse the skull-faced fucker out—the chill dulls into a lukewarm ache.

You pause. Wait.

The water is warming. It’s actually warming.

“Oh my God,” you sigh as the water heats further. “Oh God.”

Cupping your hands under the spray, the water pools in your palms. You bring it up to your face, eyelids closing as you splash it over your skin. A little giggle escapes you, your smile so wide it hurts your cheeks. Standing directly under the water, you allow it to run all over you, warming you everywhere until you’re almost bouncing on your toes.

Opening your eyes, your gaze scans the wall, and the small nook nestled there. You lean in, and read the labels. There’s shampoo, a bar of soap, and—you blink, shaking your head as if your eyes deceive you. Reaching out, you snag the second bottle and turn it.

It’s conditioner. Fucking conditioner.

Absurd. Ridiculous. How do they even have this?

Back home, shampoo and soap are handmade. Flowers are dried and added to give scent, but that’s only ever for part of the year. They’re usually unscented. Conditioner is unheard of, and if someone needs to give their tresses a lift, they might use a few drops of oil warmed in the palm and applied to wet hair.

Placing the bottle back, you reach for the soap.

A large, muscled arm covered in tattoos appears to the left of you. It extends forward, palm resting firm and flat against the wall. You stare at it, surprised, but it’s fleeting. A solid body bumps into you from behind, forcing you forward. The hot water no longer rains down on you but on the man directly behind you. The very naked, very large man.

His other arm appears to your right, that hand also pressing flat against the wall. You’re caged in. Trapped.

Ghost groans with contentment as the water rushes over him. “Told you there was hot water,” he sighs. He shifts, and you feel all of him, including a hardening appendage that pokes you in the hip.

Seriously? This asshole couldn’t wait?

Glancing over your shoulder, you give Ghost a scowl, only for your stomach to flip upon seeing him. Beneath the skull mask, you weren’t sure what you’d find. Not like you thought about it in any decent capacity. Curious, sure, but also cautious.

What you weren’t expecting was someone attractive. Handsome. Not in the traditional sense, but in the ruggedness of his features. Strong but also scarred.

Goddamn it. Fucking shit.

You should feel nothing for him. He’s taken you hostage, intending to take you somewhere for…processing. Whatever the fuck that means.

“What the fuck are you doing?” you ask with as much venom as you can muster.

“Showering,” he replies with a sigh. Ghost runs his hand over his face and then his head, slicking back his blondish-brown hair. The eye black is smudged now, running away in little rivers down his face.

“That’s obvious,” you retort. “But you couldn’t wait until I was done?”

Ghost shrugs. “Hot water is limited.”

“Oh.” You snort. “How fucking convenient.”

With a slow roll of his neck, Ghost lifts his head and stares directly at you. “I’ve been out in the bloody wilderness for over a month. Same unit. Same blokes. Breathing the same air. Spending all goddamn day together. Forgive me for wanting to enjoy a simple comfort.”

“Right,” you say slowly. “Is that why your dick keeps stabbing me in the side?”

Ghost chuckles and runs his hand over his mouth. “Just told you I’ve seen the same ugly mugs for over a month.”

“And?” you counter. “That’s an excuse?”

He leans in, lowering his voice. “It’s a natural fucking reaction when I haven’t seen a naked woman in over a month.” You try to move away from him, and only end up bumping into the shower wall. “What would you like me to do about it?”

“Great question.” You shrug. “You could stick it elsewhere.” Ghost’s eyebrows rise with a hint of a devilish smirk. “I mean—”

“I can think of a few places,” murmurs Ghost.

“Fucking—shut up. Just don’t let it…poke me.”

“Fucking hell,” he chuckles. “Hand me the soap.”

“No.”

Ghost reaches for it. You slap his hand away.

“Oh, love,” he chides. “If you want my friend to stop poking you, being adorably stubborn isn’t going to help things.”

“You’re a disgusting pig.”

“Then hand me the soap. I clearly need it.”

You do not give Ghost the soap. “If you’re going to force this,” you say, gesturing vaguely. “Then at least answer some questions.”

Ghost nods like that’s a reasonable request. “And what do I get for answering your questions?” he asks, straightening slightly.

“Soap,” you deadpan.

“No,” he laughs. “I want a scrub down.”

“You want—” You pause, startled, and then quickly cover. “You want what?”

“Suds me up. Scrub me down. I’ll answer your questions.”

You shake your head. “No. Absolutely not. Ask for anything else.”

It’s the wrong thing to say.

Ghost grins, and you know you’ve messed up. “All right, love. Fine.” He pushes off from the wall, the water falling between your bodies. “Now that the mask is off, you want to try that kiss again?”

You scoff. “I’d rather not touch you at all.”

“Kiss,” says Ghost. “Or a scrub down. You pick.”

“Neither.”

“Those are the two options.”

“And I hate them both.”

“Then I don’t answer your questions.”

You lick your lips, looking away from Ghost’s piercing gaze. Stalling. You’re stalling. You don’t want to choose either option, but he’s offering to answer all your questions. Regardless of what’s transpired, Ghost hasn’t lied to you or been dishonest. Flirty and forward? Yes. Pushing your boundaries just to rile you up? Absolutely.

The kiss would be quick. One and done.

“Fine,” you reply after a few moments of deliberation. “I choose kiss.”

Ghost smirks. “You want to kiss me?”

“Didn’t say want,” you correct.

The smirk lingers, and you suddenly doubt your choice.

“Too late,” he says with a brief shake of his head.

“Too—too late?” you exclaim. “What do you mean too late?”

Ghost shrugs. “I want both now.”

“Oh,” you laugh, blowing raspberries. “Go fuck yourself.”

“My hands no fun,” he muses. “But I’ve made it work the last month or so.”

“Fuck this,” you mutter, turning around.

Ghost’s hand if on the front of your throat in an instant, forcing you back around to face him. “What’s you decision?”

Your heart thunders in your chest. Ghost’s hold is firm but not breath-stealing. This is a show of dominance—a clear signal that he’s the one in charge.

“Is there one?” you ask, even though you fear you already know the answer.

Ghost remains quiet, but his hand on your throat loosens, lingering for a few seconds before dropping away.

The last thing you want to do is give this man any room. And if you agree, what else might he ask for? There’s still the whole night ahead of you, and a singular bed that you’ll be forced to share with him. What can you do in a situation like this?

“I’ll scrub you down,” you murmur. “But I won’t kiss you.”

Ghost nods. He reaches past you, retrieving the bar of soap. He offers it. “Ask me your questions.”

You take it from him, and Ghost straightens to his full height, looking down at you with a neutral expression.

Between your palms, you rub the bar of soap until it lathers. Reaching out with one hand, you pause just before you make contact with his chest.

“Ask me a question,” murmurs Ghost.

He speaks so gently to you that a hint of flustered nervousness arises. You lick your lips, exhaling deeply to absolve the tension. There’s so much you want to ask. Question after question pops into your head, but you’re unsure of which to grab on to.

Clearing your throat, you close the distance, your soapy hand splaying wide over his right pectoral.

The beginning. Perhaps you should start there.

“Why were you after those men?” you ask, moving your hand in a circle.

“They’re terrorists,” he replies blandly.

You rinse your hand. Start lathering again. “That’s all I get?”

Ghost cocks an eyebrow. “You want specifics?”

“Yes.”

Ghost’s gaze briefly flickers away from you. There’s a moment of hesitation, like he’s unsure of what to say next.

“Those men were part of a larger group. A group that likes to paint themselves as revolutionaries. Resistance fighters.”

You move up to his shoulder, scrubbing there before descending down his tattooed arm. “It’s common to paint an opposing group as the enemy.”

“This is different.”

“How so?”

“They want to live differently, and that’s perfectly fucking peachy. But they go out of their way to try and free others through violence.”

You shrug, scrubbing at his forearm. “Doesn’t sound much different from how you treated me.”

Ghost grasps your wrist, stilling your hand. You glance up at him, finding that his demeanor has completely changed. There’s a look of sheer desperation and anger on his face, but it doesn’t feel geared at you.

“If those men had taken you hostage, they’d have taken their turns. And if you were somehow alive after that, they’d take you to wherever they call home, and keep going until you died or became pregnant.” You go to yank your arm away but Ghost holds firm. “They’re evil, disgusting monsters.”

A little wave of fear rises, swirling to seize your stomach, turning it into a tumultuous storm. “And what you’re doing to me now is kinder?”

Ghost doesn’t blink. Doesn’t flinch under that question. “We were hunting this group down because they kidnapped a few of our littles. Do you know how they returned them to us?”

“Don’t,” you whisper.

“They strapped bombs under their clothes before reuniting them with their mothers.”

“Stop.”

“You asked for specifics,” he replies. “I’m sure you can figure out what happened next.”

The corners of your eyes sting, tears threatening to spill over. All you can think about are Ben’s two little girls and the children you read to during story time. Imagining any of them disappearing like that, only to be reunited in such a gruesome way brings misery to the forefront.

Ghost’s grip on you eases. You withdraw your hand, vigorously rubbing the soap until the bubbles overflow and drip toward the floor.

“They deserved worse than an executioner’s bullet,” murmurs Ghost, his voice firm yet full of grief.

Placing the soap back on the ledge, you gently lift his hand, scrubbing the suds between and over his fingers. His words linger, hanging in the air until you have to ask.

“Were any of them yours?” you ask, voice a near whisper.

Ghost gives a quick shake of his head.

“I’m sorry,” you reply, turning his hand over to reveal his palm. “That’s terrible.” You make slow circles with your thumb. “What will happen to the three you brought back?”

“They’re probably wishing we killed them,” he replies. You nod, swallowing, reaching for the soap again. “Anything else you want to ask me?”

“The emblem on your uniform.”

“What of it?”

You start on his other arm. “What does it mean?”

“The flag of England?” he asks, perplexed.

“No,” you smile, shaking your head. “The other one. With the olive branches. It’s familiar but I can’t place it.”

“It’s the emblem of the United Nations.”

You glance up, hands stilling against Ghost’s muscled arm. “The United Nations,” you exhale, a disbelieving laugh falling on the end of it. “But they don’t exist anymore.” You sound desperate. A bit insane. “Nothing exists anymore.”

Ghost’s gaze narrows. “What do you remember?”

“I remember when we withdrew from NATO. How eastern Europe started to collapse first.” You take a moment, lathering up the soap again. “I remember how country after country declared war. The rationing. The constant threat of a nuclear attack.” You shake your head, scrubbing at Ghost’s skin to distract yourself. “Endless fucking war. And for what?”

“I fought in that war,” says Ghost.

“Good for you,” you mutter, scrubbing harder.

“You’re upset.”

“How observant.”

You keep going, and Ghost takes your wrist again. This time, he’s gentle, stepping closer to you, the water rinsing away some of the residual soap from his skin.

“Ask me something else,” he softly urges.

“How does the United Nations still exist?” you continue. “What’s happened since the collapse?”

Ghost’s expression is grim, and you want to scream.

Did Zac know? Did they know and not say anything? You believed the world to be nothing more than desolation, poisoned from nuclear fallout and disease. Is it all a lie? Or is the destruction not as widespread and extensive as you were led to believe?

“I think you should ask me something else,” Ghost urges again.

The water is starting to cool, and you haven’t even washed your hair.

“I think I’m done,” you mutter, returning the soap to the nook in the wall. You reach for the shampoo, but Ghost grabs it first.

“Allow me,” he says, squirting some into his hands.

You reluctantly turn around, giving him your back. You stay still, and then his fingers slide over your scalp, gently scrubbing. It’s refreshing—relaxing. You sigh, shoulders lowering as the tension leaves your body. Ghost massages the shampoo in, lathering it up.

The two of you fall into silence.

Ghost rinses the shampoo from your hair, and then does his own as you run conditioner through your strands. It’s a quiet back and forth, the two of you moving in and out the water to rinse and repeat.

He reaches for the knob, but you block his forward momentum.

“The water is growing cold,” he says.

“I know,” you murmur. “But you still have black around your eyes.” You gesture at your own face, indicating where there are still smudges on his.

Ghost starts to rub at his face. You step up to him, reaching out to grasp his hands and pull them away from his face.

“Allow me,” you insist, adding a bit of soap to your hand.

With one finger, you swirl it around the suds in your palm. Bringing it up to Ghost’s face, you lightly rub at the faded smudges.

“Have any more questions for me?” asks Ghost. You nibble on your bottom lip. Nod. “Go on then. Ask away.”

Using the tip of your nail, you lightly scratch at a few flecks of black. “What’s the mandate?” Ghost grimaces, and you inwardly flinch. “Is it something bad?” you ask tentatively.

“No. Just—” Ghost sighs. “When someone is found outside the designated safe zones, it’s mandated that we bring them back for processing.”

“That’s what your captain said. That you’re to take me for processing. But I don’t know what that means.”

“It’s reintegration.”

A deep dread forms in your stomach, turning it to lead.

“To what?”

“Society.”

You drop your hand from Ghost’s face. “But I have a home. People that love me. That are waiting for me. I don’t need to reintegrate into anything.”

Even as you say it, you know there is no negotiating. There is pity on Ghost’s face, and you hate it because he knows he’s ripping you from your life, upending everything for some arbitrary rule.

“I won’t go,” and this time your voice is firm. Steadfast.

Ghost turns the knob, shutting off the water. The air rushes in, cooling your skin where the water touches.

“I can’t take you back.”

“You can,” you insist. “You absolutely can.”

“I can’t,” emphasizes Ghost. “In the morning, we’re going home. To the nearest safe zone.”

“No,” you gasp. “I won’t go. I refuse.”

Ghost takes a step forward. Instinct has you stepping back, but it only pushes you up against the wall. “You said you’d behave. That you wouldn’t cause problems.”

“Refusing to take me home isn’t winning you any favors.”

“You’re already on base,” growls Ghost. “There is no going back.”

You smack his chest. “You bastard. You selfish fucking bastard.”

“Don’t,” he warns.

You smack him again. Harder. “Do you get some kind of bonus for bringing me back? An award?” When Ghost doesn’t reply, you form a fist, beating it against his chest. “Or is it something worse?”

Ghost takes a step back but you move forward, raising both fists. You’re ready to swing. Ready to fight.

“Don’t,” he repeats, but you’re seething.

Anger is like a lustful tide, swallowing you down into its depths. “Tell me, Lieutenant Riley. What do you get for bringing me back?” You shove at him, but he hardly moves. “Is it me?” you laugh. “Am I your war prize?”

“Final warning,” he growls, but you ignore him.

“Will they make me your whore?”

The question is a taunt. Airless. Empty. It’s a push. A verbal shove. And it sends Ghost over the edge.

Ghost surges forward, a wall of brute strength and muscle. You stumble backward, only to be shoved up against the wall. His arms rest on either side of your head, his own head bent down, making the space feel small.

“Listen to me,” he says, trying to keep his tone calm and even.

A small voice inside your head tells you to comply, to hear him out. But there is another voice—this one louder and more insistent. It tells you to cause trouble, to put up a fuss.

“Fuck off,” you reply sharply.

Water drips off the tip of Ghost’s nose. It falls onto your breast, rolling toward your nipple. His gaze follows it, and you promptly strike him across the face. The crack is loud. It echoes against the tile wall.

Ghost mouth drops open, skin reddening where you hit him.

Shit. Oh, shit.

With a growl, Ghost pushes off from the wall, lifting you into his arms without effort. You scramble for purchase, surprised by the sudden movement. He takes three steps and then tosses you onto the bed. You bounce as you hit, one arm shooting out to steady yourself, fingers pressing against the wall as you wobble.

You’re fuming now. Raging.

“Going to have your way with me now?” you mock. “Is that part of the mandate?”

Ghost ignores you. Turning away, he heads back to the shower. He grabs two towels off the rack.

“Let me make it easy for you,” you continue, not backing down. You lean back onto your elbows, chest pushed out, legs extended and bent at the knee in front of you. As Ghost steps around the dividing wall, you spread your thighs, revealing your pussy to him. “You can slide right in. I won’t make a fuss.”

Ghost stills, staring down at your naked body. Your chest heaves, nipples hard and erect. It roams over you, and then he’s staring you down, clearly unamused by this outburst.

“You think I’d take advantage like that?” he asks.

“You joined me in the shower,” you counter. “Doesn’t give me much faith.”

Instead of replying, Ghost throws a towel at you. “Cover yourself,” he mutters, turning away, using the other towel to start drying off.

You hold the towel against your chest. Drawing your legs up, you close them, using the towel to cover the little it can. Ghost is still naked, and he appears in no rush to cover himself. You watch him, observing every movement, expecting him to circle back.

But he doesn’t touch you. Doesn’t even look in your direction. Even when he discards the towel, standing bare in the middle of the room, Ghost continues to ignore your existence.

He strides over, and your cheeks flame as his cock bounces with every step. You look away, staring at the wall as he takes a knee beside the bed. Grunting, Ghost tugs on something beneath the bed. You turn your head just enough to watch.

Ghost tugs again, and out comes a trunk.

He pops the tabs, opening the lid. The first thing he removes is a pair of clean boxer briefs. Ghost stands up, and you have to pretend you’re staring at the ceiling and not what’s swinging between his legs as he puts them on.

He goes down on his knees again, shifting through whatever is inside. As you start to lean forward, curiosity getting the better of you, you’re met with fabric to the face.

“Put this on,” mutters Ghost as he shuts the trunk.

You hold out a shirt, something far too large to fit you properly. Slowly, you tug it over your head, wiggling it down until it comes to mid-thigh. Ghost snags the towel off the bed, taking yours and his back to the dividing wall. He hands them over the side.

“Be honest with me, Lieutenant Riley.” Ghost doesn’t acknowledge you. “Please.”

This time, he turns, and you have no idea what he might be thinking. His features are passive. Neutral. You want to dig around, crack him open, figure out the inner workings of his mind. You’re angry, but you’re lost.

A sparrow in a dark forest.

“This mandate. Bringing me back to a…safe zone. When I come out of processing, am I yours? Do I belong to you?” He stares, and a sinking feeling emerges. You need answers. You desperately need them. “Please,” you say, voice cracking.

He takes a step toward you.

Another.

He comes to a stop at the edge of the bed, staring down at you. Fingertips brush against your bare arm. A shiver runs through you.

“No,” he answers. “You don’t belong to me.”

It’s out there. Hanging.

But is it the truth?

“Scoot over,” he murmurs. “Sleep is calling my name.”

[mariasont]

Casualties Of Control - A.H

caught in a moment of panic, you freeze, but hotch guides your next moves, revealing just how comforting surrendering control can be

pairings: aaron hotchner x sweetheart!reader warnings: age gap, power imbalance, sexual tension, anxiety/self-doubt galore, gun violence, near-death experience, hurt/comfort, depictions of trauma responses, authority kink, themes of submission and control, brief mention of parental emotional neglect wc: 3k request: here

You were starting to think someone should stage an intervention, maybe Garcia or JJ, because this is getting borderline pathetic. More specifically, you, are getting borderline pathetic.

The second Hotch speaks, reality melts into background noise, and you’re zeroed in on the column of his throat, the subtle movement of muscle beneath perfectly pressed shirt collars.

You’re standing in the middle of a crime scene, dirt kicking up around your sensible shoes, yet all you can think about is the shift of tension in his jaw. Tighten, loosen, swallow — rinse and repeat. It’s mortifying, really, this fixation.

You wonder why it happens or if he even realizes he’s doing it. Maybe it’s an unconscious reflex, his overwhelming need for control compressed into a single, visible place. Authority, responsibility, and his entire leadership style condensed into that twitch. It’d be poetic if it wasn’t so distracting.

And really, truly, genuinely, you need to pull yourself together because Morgan is giving you a side-eye that suggests he’s not only noticed your gawking, but worse, has developed several theories about it.

Hotch’s instructions spill out rapid fire, and you’re halfway to zoning out, catching snippets — Morgan, perimeter. Reid, coordinate with local PD. 

You force yourself to tune in just in time to realize you’ve missed most of what he’s saying, something vaguely alarming about the missing witness slipping past your ears. When Hotch says your name, you flinch, probably visibly, and snap upright, trying (likely failing spectacularly) to look alert.

“You’re with me.”

And then he’s turning, moving, and naturally, instinctively, you fall into step beside him.

It’s fine, you reason, it’s not that you mind. You really don’t. Still, there’s a small part of you, buried beneath layers of admiration and self-doubt, that’s starting to twitch with impatience. You’ve been here for five cases now and you assumed by this point you’d graduate from perpetual trainee shadow to, well, anything else.

You remember Reid telling you he earned independence fairly quickly, and Morgan practically started the job fully formed. But you’re still following dutifully in Hotch’s shadow, like a duckling too nervous to swim on its own. Is it him? Is it you? Is there some glaring flaw he sees, something that screams liability, too-green-to-function-alone? You bite the inside of your cheek, silencing your insecurities before they start screaming louder.

You’re practically speed-walking at this point, struggling to match Hotch’s long strides as the sun cooks your brain into a scrambled mush.

Your fingertips shield your eyes, squinting hard against the glare, cursing your impulsiveness — rushing out this morning after the team like a lovesick intern, leaving behind basic necessities like water. Rookie mistake. You’ll be dehydrated and delirious by noon, hallucinating your own incompetence in vivid detail.

Hotch doesn't even spare you a sidelong glance your way when he thrusts a water bottle toward you, eyes still scanning the horizon, speaking into his radio.

You stare dumbly at it for a second, and he must sense your confusion, because he tacks on, “You always forget to grab one. Drink.”

It sounds more gentle chiding than reprimand, but your face warms all the same.

The moment the bottle touches your lips, your body moves on autopilot, obeying Hotch’s casual command like it’s ingrained in your DNA. You’re pretty sure that’s concerning, how effortlessly you bend to his wishes, but introspection on that front can wait, especially since you’re burning alive under more than just the summer heat.

Without conscious thought, you offer the bottle back to him. 

Hotch pauses mid-sentence, the radio chatter fading momentarily as he eyes the bottle in mild confusion. 

But he takes it, pressing his mouth exactly where yours had been just seconds ago.

The simple action triggers a cascade of horribly inappropriate thoughts — mostly involving other, much less professional ways you’d rather be sharing space with his lips. Your imagination provides a cinematic experience of saliva exchange methods that have absolutely nothing to do with staying hydrated.

Wonderful. 

Your brain officially needs adult supervision.

Hotch, unfortunately observant, asks immediately, “You okay?”

“Fine!” Your voice pitches too high. Words tumble recklessly from your lips, an avalanche of rational-sounding nonsense designed solely to bury the fact that you’ve gone and made this weird. “Actually, if the unsub abducted the witness from the parking lot instead of her home, doesn’t that significantly change the risk factor? Public place, daylight — it would require confidence. That implies either past experiences or familiarity with the location —,”

You’re practically tripping over your own tongue, but your reasoning sounds airtight, thankfully. Because while your mouth may be spewing perfectly acceptable analysis, your brain is still utterly fixated on Hotch’s lips and their newly established indirect intimacy. 

Please let him not notice that.

Hotch considers your point, oblivious to your internal meltdown — or mercifully pretending to be. “That’s a good point.”

You’re in said parking lot before you realize it, baking on the blacktop, the car ride here an absolute blank.

It’s so hot your shoes practically fuse with the pavement, sticking with every step. Hastily shoving sunglasses onto your nose provides some mercy, but it does little to shield you from the full-body assault of sunlight, droplets of sweat quickly making trails down your collarbones. 

Reid would undoubtedly be rattling off something about albedo, thermal something-or-other, or some complicated explanation he pulled from a random academic paper. You simply classify it as outrageously, freakishly hot.

Hotch stands near the SUV, jacket discarded in favor of rolled-up sleeves. 

You discreetly pop open two buttons at your collar, self-consciousness momentarily forgotten in your bid for self-preservation, fingers grazing sweaty skin. 

Hotch’s mild, pointed throat-clear pulls your attention sharply, and your hands fall innocently back to your sides. 

He returns his gaze to the lot, brow furrowed in thought as he begins, “So, our unsub takes a woman from a busy parking lot in broad daylight, and nobody notices. What’s your read on that?”

You swallow painfully.

“Either he’s invisible, or everyone else is oblivious. Maybe both. More realistically, he’s non-threatening — at least initially. Approachable, trustworthy enough to not raise any red flags.”

His eyes flicker to the security cameras. “The unsub knew enough to pick a blind spot and a busy hour. Probably wasn’t his first time.”

“Right,” you agree. “Plus, no personal items were left behind, her keys, phone, everything gone with her. She went willingly at first.”

“Or he was convincing enough to make it appear that way,” Hotch adds.

Sweat trickles annoyingly down your spine, pooling uncomfortably between your shoulder blades. You glance sideways at Hotch, baffled by how unfazed he seems, looking like he’s casually waiting in a nice, breezy room rather than cooking alive in this inferno masquerading as a parking lot.

“I want you to check the eastern side, see if local PD missed anything.”

There’s a flash of doubt, a brief impulse to argue that maybe your efforts would be better spent elsewhere. A tiny voice in the back of your mind suggests hesitantly that maybe you’d earn his respect if, just once, you challenged his orders instead of quietly complying. But that impulse quickly wilts under the addictive rush you feel in gaining his approval.

It’s uncomfortable to admit, even privately, that you like the certainty of following his lead. You trust his judgment implicitly, which is a dangerous revelation you haven’t been able to shake. But even as the realization unsettles you, you’re already heading toward the eastern side, willingly and undeniably eager to please.

You’ve built your whole identity around color-coded calendars, neatly ordered lists, and near-pathological insistence on control. Yet, somehow, here you are, feeling embarrassingly grateful, borderline euphoric, simply because Aaron Hotchner told you exactly where to stand. You’ve either hit rock bottom or stumbled onto a whole new level of pathetic, jury’s still out. Deep down, you suspect you should be significantly more concerned about your state of mind than you actually are.

After a fruitless couple of hours spent cooking yourself alive on the asphalt, Hotch finally takes mercy on you, shepherding you back into the blessed relief of the artificially cooled paradise of the station.

You have a complicated relationship with local police stations. Sure, they’re usually air-conditioned, blessedly cool havens compared to the heat simmering outside. But then again, they’re always saturated with that same smell of charred coffee and day-old donuts. This station, particularly, is no exception. 

You push aside your petty complaints, focusing instead on Hotch’s directive to pair up with Prentiss and sift through alibis the local PD has halfheartedly checked.

You had gotten straight to work, ostensibly because it was necessary but mostly to distract yourself from the soul-crushing awareness Emily’s presence always inspired. She’d always been calm, collected, entirely too put-together, a combination that paradoxically eased your mind while also amplifying every self-conscious insecurity you owned.

You vividly recall your first few interactions with her, particularly the time she’d gently pointed out you’d been reading the map upside-down for five solid minutes.

The memory makes you cringe even now, but Emily had laughed with you, not at you, instantly easing your embarrassment. From the start, she’d balanced teasing and patience, correcting your mistakes without ever making you feel incompetent. It only deepened your appreciation, and, if you were being honest, your mild hero-worship of her.

Your nostalgic reverie about Emily implodes instantly, ruthlessly obliterated by the sudden deafening crack of gunfire. 

The room seems to tumble sideways, your equilibrium evaporation, replaced by sickening vertigo. 

The bullet glimmers so close to your temple that it nudges your hair, a grotesque mockery of intimacy. 

Your mind barely has time to piece together what’s happened before the shouting starts, voices exploding around you. In a dizzy blur, uniforms flood the space, tackling the unsub to the ground.

You stare forward, dazed, your senses dialed down to a murmur as if you’ve sunken underwater without realizing it. Emily materializes in front of you, blurred at first, then rapidly sharpening into focus, her lips moving quickly, shaping syllables you can’t fully grasp. Her face reflects fierce urgency, her stance instinctively protective, something that vaguely registers, but your thoughts stay stubbornly cloudly, lost somewhere between numb disbelief and fragmented comprehension.

Reality rushes back in as Emily’s voice finally floods your ears, her gaze anxiously probing yours for confirmation that you’re alright.

“I’m fine,” you reassure quickly, the words steady enough that they almost convince even you. “What do you need me to do?”

How could you freeze like that?

Breathe in. Count to three. Exhale slowly. You push the panic bubbling up into a box neatly stored behind well-worn barriers of composure. Control slides gracefully back into position, a transparent illusion spun from willpower alone. 

Your mother had been your first and relentless instructor, composure valued above tenderness, flawlessness demanded before comfort was ever considered. Beneath perfectly pinned-up hair and practiced smiles, she’d etched these lessons deeply. You’ve always been made from shards, a careful mosaic of concealed fractures, sewn together by unsaid apologies and quiet disappointments.

You learned early on that the safest place was behind a perfected facade.

She places a hand on your arm. “Maybe you should sit down for a minute.”

“Really, Em, I’m okay,” you assure her quickly. It fits perfectly, even if it feels painfully dishonest now. “Just tell me what you need next.”

You feel your reassurance wobbling like a well-used record, repetitive and empty, but you don’t trust yourself to say anything else. If you speak too openly, you risk Emily seeing the brittleness beneath your words, the terrifying image branded behind your eyes — your body lying cold, lifeless on the station floor, if you had just been one inch to the left. Your father would’ve gotten that call, your desk would’ve been quietly emptied, and your entire life would’ve ended mid-sentence. 

Hotch moves purposefully into your line of sight.

Your attention snags on the empty space where Emily had just stood. You hadn’t noticed her leaving, but that’s typical — Hotch tends to clear the space around you, intentional or not, whenever he addresses you directly. You wonder briefly if it’s because he senses your tendency to falter under scrutiny, or perhaps because he expects you to embarrass yourself again.

How long has he been standing there, waiting patiently for your response?

“Sorry,” you say quickly, refocusing on his face. “Could you repeat that?”

His voice is steady as he repeats, more gently this time, “I asked if you’re hurt.”

“No.”

You glance down quickly immediately afterward. You’re not even sure that’s true — had you actually checked, or had the adrenaline blocked out any injuries? You scan yourself quickly, a little unsure, a lot overwhelmed. Nothing seems wrong, at least nothing visible, but then your attention flits anxiously around the room, eyes instinctively looking for the unsub.

They tackled him, right? So where did they take him afterward — was he cuffed, detained, secured? More importantly, did they figure out why he barged in and opened fire? 

Hotch’s gaze sweeps quickly over you before his hands are gently tipping your head, his fingertips lightly exploring the place where the bullet almost found its mark. Warm fingers carefully part your hair, brushing just above your ear, and suddenly, you’re painfully aware of how tender he’s being, despite everything.

“Just to be safe, the EMTs will check you out,” he says, confident you’re unharmed but cautious nonetheless.

You nod, but you know exactly what he’s thinking, exactly what he must have seen. You were careless, oblivious — frozen solid at the worst possible moment. You’d slipped, and it almost cost everything. Your incompetence nearly ended your life, it could’ve endangered Emily, Hotch, the team. 

How could he trust you after this? Shame blooms hotly, choking your breath, because you know better.

This job doesn’t allow second chances, and you nearly used yours up.

“I’ll just — let me find Emily, then we can —,”

“You’re not doing anything right now.” Hotch’s interruption is firm, an immovable wall you know you can’t scale. “You’re staying exactly here until I say otherwise.”

You feel the sting of his words, immediately interpreting them as proof he no longer trusts you. 

“I’m not restricting you because of anything you did or didn’t do,” he says firmly, understanding clear in his eyes. “You’ve just experienced severe trauma. The EMTs will check you out first, then I’ll bring you up to speed. You’re not being sidelined. I’m going to handle the scene, and once everything is secure, we will regroup and go from there. Do you understand?”

You nod, but your trust feels tissue-thin, easily shredded by self-doubt. Hotch studies you carefully, eyes narrowing just enough to communicate clearly that he knows exactly how hollow your assurance really is.

Still, he nods back gently, pulling out a chair. You sit.

Hotch effortlessly stepped into the space your panic had left open. You watched as he moved calmly through the room, issuing commands. He spoke briefly with the EMTs first, outlining precisely what they needed to check, sparing you the uncomfortable necessity of trying to articulate your confusion.

Moments later, another water bottle appeared in your grapes, placed decisively by Hotch, who barely broke stride in his quiet management of everything around you.

He anticipated your questions and worries before you could voice them, confirming that the unsub was secure and that no one else was injured. 

Each directive he gave on your behalf made you aware of just how badly you needed this — someone stronger, steadier, more certain than yourself, carefully taking control away.

Discovering that surrendering control could feel like finally breathing after holding your breath for far too long was unsettling yet profoundly comforting.

The EMT now moves cautiously around you, examining the side of your head, brushing your hair aside to search for injuries you know aren’t there. Still, you remain perfectly still.

You find Hotch standing nearby, arms loosely crossed, fixed on the EMT’s every movement. He occasionally interrupts with instructions, and the micromanagement that should feel excessive but instead makes you feel grateful.

“I’m sorry,” you finally blurt out. “I completely blanked today. I didn’t respond when I should’ve, and it put everyone in danger. I should’ve been more alert, and…” 

You swallow thickly, shame edging painfully into your words, gaze fixed stubbornly downward.

“You didn’t blank,” Hotch interrupts. “You experienced something called perceptual narrowing. It’s common under severe stress, especially when you’re caught completely off-guard. Your brain was trying to process too much at once, it’s an instinctive reaction, not a failure.” 

You nod hesitantly, biting your lip as you struggle to voice your lingering frustration. “I know that makes sense, but it’s more than just freezing. It’s afterward when I realized how little I actually contributed.”

“You weren’t supposed to contribute right then,” Hotch reminds you. “You were under strict instructions to stay exactly here and let me handle the rest. Trust me, I can manage just fine.” His eyes glimmer briefly with amusement. “Unless you’re saying you don’t trust me to take control?”

You quickly shake your head, cheeks burning hotter now that the EMT has moved away, leaving no buffer between you and Hotch.

“No — no, that’s not what I meant,” you stammer. “Of course I trust you. Probably more than —” You catch yourself abruptly, clearing your throat awkwardly. “I mean, I trust your judgment completely.”

Hotch regards you for a moment, a faint, knowing smile ghosting briefly across his lips before he masks it again.

“I know what you meant,” he says evenly, though the warmth in his voice suggests he heard far more than your careful correction. “I appreciate your trust.” He pauses briefly. “I’ll try not to abuse it.”

Abuse it. That is such a potent phrase. Could he? Would he? The rational answer is no, but another voice counters with maybe. The potential hangs there, tantalizing and terrifying in equal measure. You’ve handed him someone precious, breakable, and yet the risk of abuse feels softer, sweeter, when it’s him.

“You wouldn’t,” you whisper after a moment. “But I think even if you did, I might forgive you.”

💌 masterlist taglist has been disbanned! if you want to get updates about my writings follow and turn notifications on for my account strictly for reblogging my works! @mariasreblogs

[marvelobsessed134]

Amber Waves

Parings: Dominatrix/Mistress!Wanda Maximoff x Fem!Reader

Warnings: smut, BDSM, dom/sub dynamics, Wanda is called Mistress, reader is called pet, vibrator, punishment, orgasm, bondage, spanking, written in my notes app as usual.

Synopsis: Your best friend thinks you should let off some steam…at a dominatrix session.

Why Kate Bishop thought it was a good idea to get you a session with a Mistress? You surely don’t know but here you were, in front of a regular suburban house that you knew was anything but regular inside. Kate had insisted it was fun and arousing. But then again, Kate is way more sexually liberated than you are.

You took a deep breath as you stood at the door. You could turn around make a run for it, but that’d be a waste of your best friend’s money. So, you nervously knocked on the door, waiting. You heard heels clacking on the inside as they made their way up to the front door before it opened to reveal an older red headed woman. She was beautiful. Like, goddess level beautiful.

You were starstruck for a moment before clearing your throat, “Um, Mistress Wanda?” The older woman smiled and enjoyed your slight nervousness, “Yes, dear that is me. Why don’t you come inside?” She steps aside and lets you enter the house.

It looked pretty normal so far, but as she lead you deeper into it, the BDSM toys and furniture were more and more prevalent. Mistress Wanda sat you down at a small glass table as she sat across from you.

“Okay, so I’m assuming this is your first session?”

“Yes. My friend did this for me.”

“Oh, a very good friend. What’s your name?”

“Y/n.”

“Y/n,” she repeated, clicking her tongue, “what a pretty name. Okay, so, what are you looking to experience today?”

“Umm…I don’t know to be honest. I don’t know much about this whole…thing,” you waved your arms up motioning around the room.

“That’s perfectly fine, dear. Let’s start with a simple question. Are you more dominant or submissive?” You honestly didn’t know what that meant and she knew it. So, she decided to test it herself. Purposely dropping her pen on the floor saying, “Would you be a dear and get that for me?” You did as she said without thinking. And when you handed it back to her she purred, “Good girl.” Which made your cheeks red and panties damp which caused you to rub your thighs together. Mistress Wanda smirked, “I think I know the answer. Sit back down.”

Of course, you obeyed her. She slid a piece of paper across the table towards you, “Is there anything on here that you don’t want to participate in?”

The list had many different kinks listed, collaring, knife play, medical play, mdlg, pet play, degradation, impact play…so many things.

“Um, no extreme punishments…like spanking is fine but not too hard and…no knife play please for god’s sake…” you continued to list off the activities you were not interested in. Wanda nodded, carefully taking your every word into consideration.

“That’s perfectly fine with me, dear. Any nicknames you prefer to be called?”

“Um, not that I know of I guess I’m fine with anything.” Her green eyes darkened, “You’re making this very fun for me, pet. Now, let’s discuss a safe word. You use this word whenever you want the scene to stop, okay?”

You nodded.

The two of you agreed “Scarlet” would be the safe word. The redhead stood up and held her hand out to you, “Come on, pet.” You took her hand and followed her to a room that was essentially a large walk-in closet with tons of lingerie, collars, leashes, gags, heels even. “You can pick out what you want to wear during our scene okay? I’ll give you 5 minutes.” She closed the door.

5 minutes?! How were you supposed to find out what to wear in 5 minutes? You quickly scoured the room and decided to go basic with a black lace set and a black pleather collar with some black pumps. You changed into the attire and stared at yourself in the mirror. You hardly recognized yourself, the seductive fabric clinging to your body.

You were so entranced by your own reflection you didn’t notice Mistress Wanda until she creeped up behind you, moving your hair away from your neck, “Those are yours to keep, pet. Do you like them?”

“Yes, I do Wan-“ she slapped your thigh lightly, a correction, “How do you address me?”

You gulped, “S-sorry, Mistress.”

“Good girl. Come along, Mistress has some toys for you to play with.” You followed her to the playroom which was originally a second living room but she obviously converted it into her own BDSM dungeon. You noticed a plethora of objects. A Saint Andrew’s cross, a spanking bench, a rack full of whips and paddles, a sex swing, a drawer full of blindfolds, and a large luxurious bed.

“What would you like to play with first?” She husked into your ear.

“I- uh- I don’t know…”

“Aww, my pet is a little nervous for her first time. That’s okay, Mistress will decide for you. Hmm…” she surveyed the room before saying, “let’s play a game, shall we? Go lay down on the bed.” Her voice was soft but commanding, leaving no room for arguments. Not that you necessarily wanted to argue with her. Though you were curious what would happen if you’d argued with her. However, you obediently climbed onto the bed and rested your back against the silk, red, sheets. Mistress Wanda opened a couple drawers before walking towards you. She looked absolutely stunning in the tight black dress, her long red hair flowing down her back, a few pieces resting in front of her shoulders.

“Arms.” She said, and you lifted your arms, letting her handcuff you to the bed. “Spread your legs, pet.” Obeying her orders came so naturally, it almost scared you.

The older woman held up a Hitatchi wand. Your eyes widened slightly, and your pussy dropped in arousal. “I want to see how long you can hold your orgasm. And if you’re a good girl, I’ll let you cum. But do not cum before I tell you to. Understand?”

“Yes mistress.”

“Good girl.” She sat beside you on her knees and turned the toy on. She let it hover over your clothed clit before letting it make contact. You jolted at the sudden sensation, whimpering.

“Aww, sweet little pet. Is this too much for you?” You nodded and she upped the speed. It was both pleasurable and overwhelming, you screwed your eyes shut.

“Ah,ah, look at me.” Mistress Wanda lightly slapped your cheek causing you to immediately open your eyes. The torture went on for far too long, and you felt your orgasm approaching.

“Don’t cum yet.” The older woman’s voice was stern. But you couldn’t help it, the sights, sounds, feelings, all became too much as you came inside of your panties. You’d hope she didn’t notice, but she definitely did. Turning off the vibrator, she tossed it aside looking at you with a stern expression.

“Did you cum without permission, pet?” Your stupid ass shook your head.

“Really? If I inspect you, you won’t be soaked in cum?”

You sighed and decided to give up, “S-sorry Mistress…I lied…” god, this was so embarrassing and so arousing at the same time.

“Mm, what was that?” She asked unable to hide her amusement at your stuttering.

“I- I lied.” You responded, swallowing nothing since your mouth has gone dry.

“Tsk, tsk, naughty girl. Come on,” she unbound you from the bed before gripping your arm, pulling you towards the spanking bench. She forcefully bent you over, tying your arms to the piece of furniture.

“Ten spanks and you will count all of them. Mess up and I will start all over again. Understand?”

“Yes Mistress.”

“Good girl.” She grabbed a wooden paddle and pulled your panties down to your ankles before smacking it against your flesh. “O-one…” you counted out loud.

Another.

“Two…”

And another…

“Three…”

After seven more spanks, your ass felt like it was on fire. The redhead smoothed her hand over your tender flesh before unbuckling your arms from the bench. “Such a good girl taking your punishment so well. Come on, you must be hungry.”

That wouldn’t be the last time you had a session with Mistress Wanda.

[cameronsbabydoll]

what kinks do you think sexist rafe would have? for one i think he would be heavy on the daddy kink

daddy kink

rafe would be all over this. the classic "daddy" vibe, but with a dominant edge. he likes being the one who’s in charge—making decisions for you, telling you what to do, and having you look to him for approval. you’d feel small when he calls you his "little girl" or "his baby."

“you’re gonna listen to me, right, princess? just like you always do. be a good girl and do what daddy says.”

and in public, he's always hovering over you, hands possessively on your waist or low on your back, like he’s marking you as his—making sure no one else forgets you’re his responsibility.

housewife kink

rafe has this specific idea of what a housewife should be, and you’re expected to meet every single one of his standards. he’d want you in cute, domestic outfits—aprons, sundresses, stuff that screams stay-at-home wife. and when you’re doing chores?

"that’s right. put your hands to work, baby. a woman’s place is at home, making sure i’ve got everything i need."

he’d be the type to expect a full home-cooked meal waiting for him when he gets back, with a drink in hand and dressed in a sundress. if he didn’t get that? he'd let you know.

"don’t make me repeat myself, sweetheart. you want to be treated like a princess, then act like one. my princess knows how to keep a clean house."

ddlg (daddy dom/little girl)

this one would be his favorite, hands down. he’d love the idea of being your protector but also seeing you as someone who needs to be “taken care of” in every sense. he’d be into the soft, nurturing side of it too, though he’d use it to keep control over you. like, when you’re acting “sweet” or “innocent,” he’d take advantage of that, pushing your limits while still keeping you in check.

“who’s my good little girl? you’re so cute when you play dumb, princess. you really think you can run the show?”

he’d spoil you with treats, but it’s always a trade-off for how he expects you to act. there’d be rules for everything—from when you’re allowed to speak, to what you wear, to how you behave. and if you don’t listen?

“what happens when you don’t follow daddy’s rules, sweetheart? you know better.”

he'd get so much satisfaction from keeping you in that little “submissive” headspace where you want to please him, but also feel like you’re under his total control.

humiliation kink

rafe would also love using humiliation as a way to keep you “in check.” not in a brutal way necessarily, but he gets off on making you feel small, showing his power over you.

“that’s what you get for being a dumb little girl. you really think you can have a voice? you can’t even dress yourself right.”

he’d also love calling you names that reinforce his views about women—terms like “baby,” “princess,” “doll,” “sweetheart”—but used in a way that makes you feel dependent on him. he’s constantly reminding you how much better he is at everything.

praise kink

though rafe’s got his more dominant side, he also gets off on telling you how good you are when you follow his rules. he’d get so much satisfaction from seeing you act the way he expects, so he’d reward you with praise—but only when he feels like you deserve it.

“that’s right, baby. you’re such a good girl for me. just keep doing what i tell you, and you’ll get what you want.”

[hexhomos]

little random but i really appreciate your dissections and analysis of Mel mainly bc the fandom either adore her and won't admit she is a flawed character and get over defensive when you call her out, or straight up hate her and make her out to be completely evil.

Mel is written as morally grey for a reason and when ppl try to act like she was morally correct in everything she did, it goes against the whole plot. yes, she regrets most of her actions by the end of the series and is left to deal with her family's leagacy and the weight of her actions, but that doesn't undo anything she did. and her eventually starting to care about Jayce doesn't just cancel out that she manipulated him (you'd think this would be obvious)

what bothers me the most i think is meljay shippers who say Jayce mistreated her and that Mel only ever helped and care about him and aided him in rising to power politically, and how she was so understanding of Jayce's and Viktor's friendship. yes, encouraging methods of political corruption in order to gain more power is so caring and kind of her! ❤️

Mel might've told Jayce to go spend time with Viktor after finding out he was ill, but the one time in the show she interacted with Viktor was... prejudiced to say the least. she never directly spoke to or answered Viktor, and the expression on her face any time she looked over at Viktor was so clearly full of dislike. it shocks me ppl still believe Mel and Viktor could get along and respect one another, especially romantically. no way.

anyways, sorry for the rant. just tired of how many bad takes there are in this fandom and very fond of your account lol

you are right and you SHOULD say it re: that oft repeated argument about her "only wanting what's best for him" bothers me so much. Its just... weirdly patronizing and spousing pro-piltover nationalism every time i see it being brought up. "She's doing what anyone would do/what is best for the city!" IDK MAN I AM NOT ROCKING WITH THAT. Im not an ubercapitalist. I don't think any of that was the good option actually lol. Probably I hate piltover too much to humor these arguments but from day 1 we are shown this is a city of immense class inequality in which the elite few holds all the power and all the profit gains at the cost of everyone else's submission and humanity. (Not for nothing: these are also the classic old guard Noxian tenets of supremacy. That's how they do colonization.)

The interactions Mel has with Jayce for majority of the series, before she watches that bomb come in and has her rapid onset change of heart, are her talking about how investors want his work and how she can use his discovery to advance this city (which is already built on exploitation!) or instigating his rise to power as a new ringleader for the council's rigged mercantile operations, and this is just not good or heroic in any way to me. This isn't love either, it's industrial convenience. The fact that she's conflicted by the end doesn't cancel these actions out! Jayce realizes that he's been used in ways he strongly disagrees with and any the affection in that dynamic vanishes instantly. The time he spends in isolation replaying his mistakes in that cave has an emphasis on mel/heimerdinger's voice on the council too, all of his regrets with blindly following someone else's vision or disappointing an idol he held in high regards.

And Jayce DOES care about the state of the cities, or he did before the writers forgot: He's the one who pleads for Zaun's independence at the end of season 1! He's the one who spent all his life trying to work towards improving the lives of common people, giving them the miracles they've been denied!

Viktor is a fucking nobody. He is extremely worthless in the eyes of the piltovan upper crust, only kept around on the merits working with Jayce have afforded him; and they still don't care. They're probably hoping he dies quicker. We *SEE* him being singled out and alienated during that weapons discussion where Mel is pleading for Jayce to think about "protecting his people" (only piltovans, never, ever zaunites- protecting piltovans against the zaunite menace.) and Viktor is set off at that whole exchange because it doesn't matter how loud he screams, these people can just tune him off and pretend he doesn't exist anyway. It's what they're used to doing. It drives me insane!!!!! His indignation is extremely under-explored and very inline with his act1 speech of feeling like an undesirable presence in piltover and having to push through with the grit of his teeth. It's open faced classism and I still see people pretending it didn't happen. Fandom makes all of these characters FAR less interesting by defanging them. The heart is in the friction and in the ugliness of them fucking up because they have very, very different conceptions of "utopia" - and some of those utopias require the death of the other characters present.

A lot of the Arcane character arcs have to do with realizing the above, and weighing if the sacrifice is worth the risk. Sometimes it turns out their utopias were shit.

[renranram]

Is there any chance you could make a jschlatt x streamer reader 1shot where she admits she has a small thing for jschlatt on her stream because her viewers asked if she had a crush on any streamers she watches and jschlatt happens to be watching her stream because hes a fan of her🤭 i think its such a nice fic concept :))

Crush

sfw

fem!reader x schlatt

basically the submission hehe

" chat, i am not smashing tommyinit, he's a child! " you roll your eyes as drag the photo of tommy at the 'pass' side

you've been playing smash or pass with your twitch chat for a few minutes now, ' but he's 20 now ' ' he's a grown man ' ' he's a grown man with a husband and a girlfriend ' your chat spams

" well... during my time, he was a child, " you reply, dramatically rolling your eyes as you lean back your seat, talking about your dsmp phase

" but in all seriousness, id still pass him, he's literally like my little brother chat, dont be weird " you chuckle as you scroll to the next option, wilbur fucking soot, you pause, staring dead into the camera

before dragging the thing's photo out of the frame, you let the silence sink in as you glance at your twitch chat

poggerina; o7

y/n4lyfersmwa; mb guys he got out of his leash

bhielatkiffy; WHY IS THE BRIGHTON BITER THERE 😦😦😦😦

you read as you chuckle, " ... anyways.. " you added, scrolling down as a tts donation caught your attention,

y/nsfavkitten donated $15, ' hello y/nn, just wondering if you had any small crush on an old dsmp member? ' the tts reads out

as you shift on your seat, " a small crush? " you repeat, before chuckling, " well.. if you donate another 100 ill tell you " you play it off as a joke

and continue on with the game, you put charlie in smash, ted in smash, jack in pass ( banter ), niki in smash, until the donator actually donated a $100, taking you in surprise

" oh my fucking god, y/nsfavkitten, i was just joking " you chuckle, " should i give you a refund? " you offer, not thinking it'd be serious

y/nsfavkitten: nononono but can you answer my last question? :3

you pause sighing out, before nodding, " for you y/nsfavkitten, fine, i did have a small crush, like a veryyy small crush on someone there " you confess as you can see your chat speeds up

akh1rah_1r: WHO

y/nluvsme: WHO???

jojosiwayouscareme: HELP WHO??

numberoneschlaggot: no way dont tell me you liked dream

" ewww " you squirm, chuckling as you shake your head, " ... i used to have a thing for schlatt " you confess

mitskimybeloved: AHH I CALLED IT

immacomebacklikeaboomerang: ship

renranram : Y/N X SCHLATT CANON FR

you groan out, as you chuckle, " guys dont make it weird " you mumble, a faint blush on your cheek as you shifted on your seat

meanwhile schlatt on the other hand wanted to do backflips, like genuinely, he was like a monkey getting excited over a piece banana

and he thought, why not shoot his shot,

@.jschlatt • 1 minute

same i ship it too, @.y/n'swebbie

↳ 11 ⇆ 9 ♡ 201

as you saw the tweet, your face turned redder like a tomato, chuckling like a teenage girl seeing abs for the first time

" chat, this is all your fault "

[smutoperator]

Karina shower smut please

Spicy Illusions

Yu Jimin (Karina) x Male Reader

Tags: ahegao, bratty son, choking, creampie, dildo, real or not?, shower sex, stupid cheese cat, throwback, titfucking

Word count: 3496.

Karina had you in a chokehold. You could go all day watching her fancams and drooling at every move she made. Your favorite ones were those of the Spicy era, where Karina had her blonde hair. Her iconic Salty & Sweet fancam was at the top of your list.

"Run, run, run, kitty, kitty, run, run," you repeated her words from the song, mesmerized at the bounce of Karina's boobs. So much so that your mom had to intervene, seeing her soon looking like an addict. "All you can do these days is watch those fucking fancams all day; you should get a job." However, you were so into Karina that you had started seeing her figure in your mother's body. "It turns me on so much when you watch me dance," Karina said in your imagination. "I want to watch myself with you," she kept saying, as you could only look at her massive bazookas on her chest.

You were on the verge of kissing her before your mom started yelling, "What the hell are you doing?" as you were instead trying to kiss her. "Sorry, mom, I'm not feeling well," you replied. "I think I need to take a shower," you continued. "Then make sure to clean it too," your mom replied.

You headed to the shower with a bucket on your hands, leaving it right in the box as you started cleaning it. However, it wasn't long before you heard some water noises coming out of it. Suddenly, you found a naked, pink-haired woman inside taking a shower. You scanned her body from bottom to top, mesmerized by her amazing figure, but obviously, her saggy, massive melons, fully covered in foam, were what caught your attention the most, especially as she grabbed them to wash her milkers. Karina smiled at you and moved her body, as you could only watch in disbelief at what you were seeing. It had to be an illusion. The way she touched herself already turned you hard in an instant; your eyes were fully fixated on those big boobs, and the way she washed her pussy and pressed her tits against the box, printing its marks on it, was so sexy.

You closed your eyes, and suddenly she was gone. You got back to doing your cleaning affairs, using the bathroom's sink to put some water in your eyes, but just as you looked in the mirror and saw the shower on it, Karina was back inside it, on her knees as she now had a bright pink phallic object in her mouth, sucking it as she played with her tits. You walked towards the box, staring at the foggy glass as Rina got up. She now turned around, continuing her little sexy show as she inserted the pink dildo in her pussy and pushed it up and down her hole. You touched the glass right where her butt was placed as you kept watching her, seeing as she made naughty moves with her tongue like a stupid cheese cat and kept pressing her body against the glass.

Karina got back to facing you as she closed her eyes and put her tongue out, licking the glass close to your face on the other side. She then got once again back on her knees, and that was too much for you to endure. You rapidly took all your clothes off as Karina gave you a sign to come in, opening the door and joining her inside that ample shower box. Her eyes brightened as she stayed in that submissive position, grabbing your cock from the start and licking her chops at the size of it, sticking her warm mouth at your veiny pole. You just pin yourself to the wall and watch her do the work. Everything about Karina feels amazing to you—the way she grabs your cock, the way her naughty eyes look while doing it, and the way she grabs one of her boobs with her left hand, trying to prevent gravity from letting it drop to the ground.

Karina kept licking your shaft, just putting it halfway in her mouth to tease you. She moves to your balls and cleans them with her mouth before giving your shaft a full top-to-bottom lick, then throating it as she firmly grabs it. The water keeps running, but this is no longer your problem; just let your bitchy mom pay for it anyway. "That's good," you tell Rina, who starts moving her mouth faster while you just enjoy the show, as she now sucks your cock without using any hands before wrapping them around your balls.

You tell Karina to get up as you want to take a closer look at her huge bazookas, grabbing her boobs to massage them from behind, pressing them together, and rubbing her nipples. You then run down her amazing body all the way to her pussy, but without touching it yet, adding an extra layer of soap to her beautiful tummy before going back to her grand prize. Her tits are soft and sturggle with gravity, your hands keeping them up as you also kiss her neck and collarbones. "Hmm, baby, I see you love my big, beautiful tiddies," Rina says with a smile on her face. She knows how much they grab men's attention and how much they like to grab them.

You grope her boobs harder, massaging them as the water running from the shower hits the sides of both your bodies. Your hands are fully covered in soap as they move around every inch of Karina's body, but her melons get the majority of your attention. You now pin Rina against the wall as she grabs your cock with her left hand while her right hand rests on her boobs. You look at them like a baby about to get fed by his mother, diving your head to suck her milk to the fullest, making Rina elicit a sexy moan.

But she had better things to do with her time, as Karina got back on her knees and poured liquid soap all the way over her bazookas. "I want you to clean it," she says, placing your cock between her big honkers. You get the assignment, thrusting your cock between her heavenly melons with all your might as she smiles at you. "That's very hot," she compliments as she presses her boobs harder and tightens them around your cock. You take advantage of it to the fullest, also rubbing your tip on her hard nipples.

Karina gets up as soon as you give her ass a little tap. She bends over as she sticks the pink dildo back in her mouth while you penetrate her, getting spit-roasted from the start. The deeper you stick your cock inside her, the deeper she throats her dildo. "I love that big dick stretching my pussy," she says on the rare occasion she takes her mouth off the dildo, gagging on it as she grabs her boobs while you slowly fuck her cunt. "That pussy is so tight," you say as Karina's moans are muffled by the dildo. You finally push harder, making her saggy melons bounce as gravity tries to rip them off Rina's body, her nipples pointing right at the wet box floor.

Your sudden increase takes Rina by surprise, making her spit on the dildo. "Oh, that feels so fucking good," she exclaims. You make her feel even better as you hit her cervix, leading her to scream for the first time. You take Karina right at her weakest and pin her against the glass, her boobs now fully smashed against it as you mercilessly pound her. The sound of your balls clapping against her body is mixed with the wet water running down them, making a splash every time you pump your cock deep into her pussy. "That's such a big dick," she exclaims.

You move to the center of the shower to take a little break, but Rina is relentless, riding you in a standing position as she pushes your body up against yours. Meanwhile, you firmly grab her tits and use the liquid soap in her leg area, covering her thighs full of it as you massage them. "Look how I make your cock nice and clean," Karina says as she keeps bouncing, her saggy tits moving in perfect sync while you give her ass a few spankings. "Oh, that's so hoy," she says, wrapping her left arm around her tits to prevent them from falling out and then getting your help as you're now the one groping them. "You're so damn good inside me," she says.

Karina now bends over, facing the opposite side of the box, letting the water clean the soap from her ass, moaning as the flow of water penetrates her pussy and asshole. But she's about to moan much harder as your wet cock goes back in, hitting the puddle inside her vaginal walls. You tease Rina by rubbing your tip against her wet clit (in both senses) before steadily stretching her pussy out as water hits your shaft and your shaft hits her walls to the fullest. "Ohhh, this shower is making me even wetter," Karina says as you groan with your cock stretching her tight holes.

Rina turns things a little spicier, adding the liquid soap all over her ass. "Grab it and wash it," she demands. You do it as she pleases, washing her ass with your hands while your cock washes her pink pussy. "Perfect, just like how I wanted it; give it to me; push it harder," Karina says as you keep going, even letting her move her hips against you before pushing harder. "I love the way you stick it deep in my pussy," she continues.

You poke Rina's melons, telling her you want to switch positions. It's time to test her dancer's flexibility. But not before Rina's sucks your cock dry of her juices. "It looks like it's dirty again," she laughs, sucking it off while hard-grabbing it with her right hand. Karina keeps going, getting sloppier as she goes, until she says these words: "Looks like it's clean again." She places her right leg on your left shoulder, naughtily telling you that you can put it back in. The angle of her body leads to an easy thrust and a perfect deep penetration from the start, as your throbbing cock bulges under Karina's slim body.

"Holy shit!" Karina screams as she looks at you, your cock filling her pussy and draining all the water inside it, cleaning her walls to the fullest as you strike hard and deep against them. You wrap your hands in her waist to make sure she doesn't slip out, but Rina has great body control and loves to take a deep pounding in one leg, getting sent over the moon at each pump. "I love that; it's really deep," she claims. "Push it harder in my pussy," she continues, as her tits got back to bouncing beautifully, turning you on and leading to faster thursts as you want to watch them quake every time you impale her. "Damn, you got such a perfect cock," she screams as your dick is now deeply buried in Karina's vagina, to the point where it takes a long time to pull out fully.

You then push Karina close to the showerhead as she holds herself with her hands and her back gets showered while you keep fucking her in one leg as she gets overwhelmed with your hard and deep thursts while the showering in the back turns her on even more as the water hits her erogenous spots. She gives you a passionate kiss as you wrap your body closer to hers. Karina now holds her lifted leg against the glass as she tries to keep her balance in spite of your fast pumping in her pussy, wrapping your arms around you as her butt presses the glass. You look at her right in the eye, kissing her as she squeals every time you hit her cervix.

You finally put Karina's right leg back on the ground, making love with her in an eye-to-eye position where you kiss her tenderly while grabbing her sexy ass as you continue to stretch her pussy, pushing so hard that your dick pops out, landing right between her thighs. You seize the opportunity as you keep doing the same thing but now pushing it between Karina's long, sexy legs as she closes them to grip it tighter.

After you're done with Rina's honey thighs, you turn her around, pushing her face close to the wall and pointing the showehead straight to her tits, cleaning them as they freely bounce while you manhandle her pussy. "Fuck me like that; destroy my pussy," she asks, and you oblige, clapping her cheeks hard each time you go in and out of her hole. "Right there, right there!" she exclaims when you spank her ass multiple times, her stupid tongue coming out of her mouth. "Oh fuck, fuck, shit, shit," she curses like music to your ears as you hug her by the tummy, pressing your thumb on her belly button while pounding her faster at each attack, making Karina roll her eyes and open her mouth like she's doing a real-life ahegao that gets even better when you grope her tits, leading her to stick her tongue out in a way that makes her look like a dumb fuckdoll, with some sticky saliva also coming out of her mouth as you lick her long neck from top to bottom.

As soon as you feel like Karina's bazookas are clean enough, you're ready to switch positions. "Get on that fucking floor," you command her as you pin Karina's back against it and give her a pounding in mating press, pressing her legs hard against her milkers. The water hitting against your back makes you push deeper while flooding starts to build under Rina's back, her body "floating" on top of it and then drowing as the thrusts of your cock push it against the rising water, her dumb expressions leading you to slap her face. "You're really a stupid cheese cat," you tell her.

After some rough poundings, you switch to something more romantic, putting Karina in a spooning position on the floor. The water accumulating under you two is enough to cover half of her right boob as you give her a slow and watery fuck, groping both her tits from behind, giving her romantic kisses, and making sure to stimulate every single one of her soft spots, but especially her boobs and neck. But your primal instincts of dominance aren't gone for long as you switch to a fast jackhammering of her pussy that makes waves under her body while choking her, something Karina loves as her nipples get even more erect. "Give me, give me, more, more more," she begs as she struggles to let those words out while you firmly grab her neck and press her left boob before letting them freely bounce, leading to more dumb expressions coming from Karina's face as this whole pounding makes her cum.

"That's good, baby. Now I want you to hop on that dick," you tell Karina as you release her from your grasp. She sits on your pole immediately, riding it to perfection with a fast bounce, while you reach to continue groping her milky melons. She's such a pro rider that even her bouncy bazookas don't pose a problem to her. You just let Rina take over and gleefully watch as she pleases you, sitting on your cock like no one ever could. "Fuck, you're so deep in me," she says as she keeps moving, her overexaggerated eye rolls and tongue sticking out of her mouth back in full swing as she uses your chest as a support while her tits move like a pair of pinballs.

Karina grinds on your cock as she switches to a reverse cowgirl ride. "I want to worship that cock more," she says as she turns around. She tilts her body just enough to give you a side view of her tits bouncing. "Every time I go down on that cock, it gets hotter," she says as she closes her eyes and lets your length stretch her out. "You've got such a perfect big fucking cock," she says. Her tilted ride makes your cock hit spots it couldn't before, getting you on the edge. Karina senses it and slows down so she can enjoy her extremely wet body stretched to the fullest for longer. "I want to feel that cock all the way in," she tells you as she gets back to a fast-paced ride. "I'm so fucking wet, a wet cat," she tells you as her juices start mixing with the water inside her vagina. You try to slow her down by placing your hands under her thighs, but that has no effect at all; Karina just smashes it and keeps bouncing on your cock; the extra obstacle actually makes her push harder. It turns out that cheese cat wasn't so stupid at all.

Rina flips around and washes your cock with some running water from the shower. "My juices left it quite dirty," she says as she rubs the head on her clit, before switching back to a slow cowgirl ride while you grab her ass. "You're so good to me," you tell her as you spank her butt. "Work that dick," you demand of her. "Oh yes, I'm working on it," she answers. "Keep going, keep going, work for that cum," you reply as she switches to shallow but fast bounces, leading you to quickly regret those words. "I think I'm gonna cum," you tell her the next time you open your stupid mouth.

"Then cum inside me."

These words make you go feral as you push Karina back up, pinning her against the glass and grabbing her by the waist while also licking her neck. The glass now is as foggy as ever, except for the spots where the print of her big tits and the breaths of her moaning mouth melt the steam. "You like that, stupid cheese cunt?" you ask her. "Yes. Give it to me, baby; you got such a good cock. Right there, baby, right there," she replies as she sticks her tongue out once more, now also placing her hands on the glass as you take full control of her baby-making body. "Clean that fucking glass," you tell Karina as the glass trembles while you maul her cunt, fingering it with your right hand while using your left hand to spank her tits, her whole body rubbing against the glass but especially her boobs, which now act as a sponge. "Look how well they are cleaning it," Karina flaunts as her big boobs keep pressing the glass.

Karina wipes her hands on the glass as you push her closer to you, letting her see the round prints of her tits on it. She already feels out of breath, but you make sure to make it harder for her as you choke her while shutting her mouth with sucking kisses. "Oh my God," Karina says as you free her just a little before resuming pounding her, using her tits to clean the full glass while you kiss and choke her. "Stupid tit cow," you tell her as you place your hands between her tits, who are now almost breaking the glass. You shut her mouth, making it as hard as possible on Rina. Her walls close as you do so, and her face turns red as you pound her, now letting her tits off the glass for the hardest bounce as you treat Karina like a breeding cow and say that you're ready to put a baby inside at any second.

You set her neck and mouth free, but the only thing Karina can do is pray to God. She's a devout Catholic, after all, isn't she? But the only thing she'll get today is the gift of a baby as you paint her tightening walls with your seed as soon as you free her from your grasp, kissing her as you grab her cream-filled pussy and soon-to-be-swollen tits while she makes her stupdiest ahegao yet. You did it; you managed to cum inside your favorite idol. You were enjoying this unique moment until a loud bang knocked you down.

"STUPID LITTLE SHIT. YOU'VE BEEN IN THIS SHOWER FOR 30 MINUTES. GET THE FUCK OUT", it was your mom yelling at you. As she opened the box, a flood of water came out of it, akin to the flood of sperm you had just put inside Karina.

Or had you? As you and your mom looked at the shower box, it had a sticky white substance glued to it. I wonder what that was.

[fillinforlater]

Eleven to One: Smart Submission

Male Reader x Kim Minju, Kim Chaewon

Length: 3196 words

Tags: Daddy kink, sensual blowjob, stand and carry, sex against the wall, making out, Breeding kink, Breeding talk, rough sex, hate sex, degradation, cursing riding, cowgirl, doggy, spanking, anal, anal doggy, sex toys, obedient!Minju, obedient?Chaewon

TW: the usual for this series, rough sex, degradation, cursing at idols, extreme Daddy kink

Inspiration: Chaewon's Smart fancams, Minju's Sequence fancams

(A/N: Fuck, it's been a while. I lost a bunch of progress and had to pivot, hope you like this though. More fics coming up, hopefully deep into April. Can't promise anything for May though. It's gonna be a stressful time.)

“I’ll be there as soon as I can. I need you, Daddy.” Send by Yujin

You put down your phone with a smile of satisfaction and excitement. It’s a rather odd mix of emotions; there should not be satisfaction when the excitement still makes you yearn for something, but at the same time, it's this yearning that makes you feel at ease. 

Yujin is on your phone, countless pictures of her incredible stage outfit which you will have to tear off her body again, not caring about the costs or the annoyed company staff. Yujin is also on the hotel room TV in the form of fancams. You put on a playlist to kill some time before the evening can begin and seeing her look so confident, thrilled and sexy has you bothered and ready.

“Oh, so that’s why I heard Kitsch on repeat.” You turn your head towards the bathroom door of this, for your standards, humble yet cozy hotel room. Minju has just walked out, a cloud of steam still behind her, a rather loose towel around her body as she dries her hair. “Our daeng-daeng is really pretty.”

“That’s true, very true,” you say with a sigh and look back at the TV where Yujin’s charisma jumps at you in the form of a wink. Suddenly, Minju’s hands are at your shoulders, rubbing, going down to your chest and rubbing a bit more.

“Minmin knows what Daddy is thinking.” She did not need to sound that sultry and tempting. A moment where her cuteness and klutziness is gone and Minju becomes a vixen, comparable to Yujin, maybe Eunbi. She learned from watching them, her admiration has let her to now drop the adorable person you so love about her—luckily, she also drops her towel, so you cannot complain about her boldness.

“So what am I thinking about, Minju?” Play hard to get, because that’s exactly what you’re going to teach her: no matter how hot or irresistible she may seem, you can be absolutely out of reach. It is after all always up to you.

“Daddy always thinks about sex.” Minju walks over, kneels on the couch and bends down towards your crotch, never breaking eye contact. A strain of wet hair tucked behind her ear, she whispers. “Daddy is always hard, especially because of Yujinnie~”

“Go check for yourself,” you challenge her and unzip your jeans (been a while since you wore something this leisurely). Minju eagerly gets them down until she expects your hard shaft to spring out and hit her cheek, but to her surprise, you are not hard. 

“Wow, Daddy is this big even now~”

“You want to suck it?” More of an observation than a question as Minju’s lips already approach your tip.

“Can Minmin suck it, kiss it, put it in her mouth?”

“Go ahead, I’ll give you a reward if you get me hard.” She is too cute again. A nod and she is eager to give your cock all the kisses. Of course she starts off with the head, makes sure to run her tongue past her lips and along your slit, then she moves down the underside while resting it on her face. Minju’s dedication to worshiping her favorite cock is unmatched, her hums and moans spread in between all the licks and kisses sound like impure devotion. 

You put a hand in her messy hazelnut strands and gently comb through them. In the background yet another fancam concludes with Yujin oozing all her stage presence and sex appeal into the camera. You turn down the volume to hear Minju’s blowjob better, but the visual distraction stays. Now it’s a Minju fancam, Sequence, legendary. The former idol tilts her head when she notices it while simultaneously taking your inches down her throat. Amazing bliss, you twitch.

“You looked very hot back then, so fucking tight,” you groan. “Unbelievable that you’re even sexier now.”

“It’s all because of Daddy and Yujin—you never stop and I have to keep up. It’s endless training, every day. Maybe this is eternal youth.” She bops her head up and down and you don’t know if she really said those words. Too much wisdom for someone who is back at your balls with her lips while she gags around the stiffening snake. Give her hips a good squeeze to check if it’s still the same Minju—yup, no doubt. 

“Your hips were so wide back then, but I think they have grown more since you moved in.” You give her a congratulatory smack and Minju giggles around your length. She looks divine with one hand on your base and every part of your face magnetically drawn to where she wants to get your baby batter out. Though you never relinquished control, she still has you in a semi-hard state and your mind in the depths of impurity. “Get up.”

“O-okay, Daddy.” Minju does as told and you marvel at her nude body for a second.

“That was brilliant, don’t get me wrong,” you tell her and reach for her curvy, milky, freshly cleaned thighs. “But I want something else wrapped around me.”

As if she can read your mind, Minju jumps up and her arms and legs embrace your upper body. All you need to do is carry her on her petite ass cheeks which fill out your hands nicely. The miniscule weight of hers is easily lifted so you two are face to face. Before your lips connect, you quickly get hold of your dick and press it against her moist folds. Moist is an understatement: Minju is drenched in excitement and takes you easily.

“Oh God,” Minju moans and her eyes disappear for a moment in the back of her head where you know is nothing but the endless feeling of joy your cock brings her. A few thrusts and she will be mindless, the dumb, breedable klutz she so often seems to be. Her legs choke your hips against hers and soon after, you two engage in a kiss that sets you on fire.

Upwards is the way, the hardest way, the best way. Minju is split open time and time again, her whole body enthusiastically shaking on every impact or at the mere prospect of another. Whenever you’re not tongue fucking her mouth, the fucking of her cunt leaves her breathless, whiny, and groaning like a madman. She is mad, crazy for you and with the intoxicating smell of her shampoo, her sweat, her sex, you’re going crazy as well.

“Fuck, Minju, you’re pussy is so warm,” you mumble and stumble forward. You press Minju against the wall next to the TV where you both listen to her verse from Panorama with the sound of loud skin slapping against skin being an obnoxious, yet welcome interruption. Minju’s hands have left your nape and start to crawl up the wall as if she tries to get higher. She wants to crash down harder on your cock, wants you to go rougher, her end is nye. The constant hits against her cervix bring one thought to the forefront—and it is not the potential people on the other side of the wall who are surely enraged.

“One day,” you whisper, leaning into Minju’s ear, covered by ruined hair that she has to wash again tonight. “I’m going to cum inside your pussy without protection.” Minju gasps, almost at her peak. You slam her back hard against the wall, fingers tearing at the skin of her ass. “I will breed you, over and over again, and we will have many beautiful children. Minju, you will be bred, pregnant all the time, so I want you to love this.”

A chaotic thrust up, against every inhibition she might have, past the final strings that hold together her sanity, her reasoning. Minju orgasms with a booming scream and her cunt does everything in its power to suck the fertile batter out of you. The seed you promised, she needs it at this very moment. Only a quick pullout can save you, Minju’s power and will to be bred leaving you stunned. 

She takes deep breaths in your arms as you carry her back to the couch, her eyes sparkle though you cannot make out if it is because of happiness or disappointment. “Why did Daddy pull out? We need to train, Minmin needs to be filled many, many times.”

“Sorry, but not tonight.” You free her forehead of her hair, some of which looks like it exploded all over her face. “I promised someone else my biggest load of today. We have to wait for her though—”

Suddenly, as if you spoke a spell to summon someone, a knock can be heard. 

“Come on in!” you shout, but all you hear is a disgusted shriek. Well, it’s certainly not Yujin nor any of your other usual guests. It’s someone that is on the fringes though, not ready to admit that she is addicted to you. The thrill brings her back, the pleasure will make her stay, but for now it’s this excuse that makes her wait for you to open the door.

“Ugh, you—wait, the fuck, put on some clothes!”

“Why don’t you get rid of yours, Chaewon,” you quickly respond and just as swiftly pull her into the hotel room. Chaewon is wrapped in a basic yet effective outfit to hide her identity. A large black overcoat, sunglasses, a mask, basic sweatpants. With a groan she reveals the excitement that is below them: a stage outfit from her recent comeback stages, along with a surprising lack of pants and most exciting of all: golden blonde hair. 

“Don’t stare at me you perv,” Chaewon barks and folds her arms in front of her chest. You notice her gaze dropping down to your cock again and you wish she would just drop to her knees and clean Minju’s nectar off of you (she would in a heartbeat if you told her about why it’s glistening like that), but you instead walk back over to Minju and lean down to kiss her. “What do you thi—Mi-Minju, you’re here?!”

“Oh, Chaewon-unnie, I’m always with Daddy, don’t you know?”

“B-but you could also stay somewhere else, like, like with your parents or with m-me…”

“Yeah, Minju,” you add cynically, only focused on the loyal girl below you clinging to your lips and your back. You make your way down her cheek, her jaw to her neck. “You could stay in the LE SSERAFIM dorm with Chaewon, so why are you still here?”

“Minmin wants to stay with Daddy! Minmin needs to be ready for when the time is right.”

Chaewon raises an eyebrow as sweat pours down her face. Her thighs are awfully close to one another, rubbing, her core is in heat as she watches Minju melt under your tongue. The ‘fearless’ group leader does not need to ask, because Minju spills the beans when you push her further down into the couch.

“Daddy, I need to be around Daddy when he wants to breed me, make me a pregnant woman, I don’t want to miss it.”

“That’s fucking enough!”

The stinging pain of your hair getting pulled makes you hiss almost triumphantly. Chaewon has been set off again and she drags you away from Minju’s delicious body and positions her own on top of you. A short, half-hearted wrestle later and she sits on your crotch, the panties below her colorful outfit already caressing your tip. One of her hands is still in your hair, the other pushes your chest against the back of the couch. She is livid.

“Oh, so you want to fight for her again.”

“Shut up.”

“You know that you failed miserably the last time, right? There is no reason to believe that you’ve gotten any better at making me—”

“Shut up!”

“You tiny thing, you’re talking big game for so—”

“Shut the fuck up!” Chaewon pulls her panties to the side, you reach for her hips and get a good hold onto them. “I’ll make you shut up, you perverted bastard!”

Chaewon sinks down on your cock and not only do you notice the wetness all over her pussy walls, you also find that she is needy for this cock. A ripple of satisfaction roams her body and in a moment of carelessness, Chaewon tilts her head back. You know that she is just enjoying the feeling and could take advantage of that. Instead, you have another taunt lined up for her.

“Oh no, I can already feel my mouth being sealed. I can barely speak.”

“Soon enough,” Chaewon groans and starts to gyrate her hips. Unlike the first time she challenged you over Minju, Chaewon feels significantly better. Wetness, tightness, texture—you can’t yet pinpoint why or how, but it has definitely improved. However, with Chaewon so cock-drunk and unable to slam herself down, this is a laughable effort. A pathetic little hop here, a loose hand on your neck, undeniable desire to be fucked in her eyes—Chaewon’s body is already admitting it.

“Hm, I love it… wh-when your quiet,” she moans, tries to search the submission in your gaze. A futile effort and you expose her with both hands on her back. “What are you doing?”

“Chaewon, you’re embarrassing. To think this would get me close—” Without warning, you tear her outfit apart. A tilt of your head and Minju helps out and gets Chaewon out of the mess of tatters you leave. Chaewon looks confused, also helpless and when you spank her ass, she knows she has to move to the stage of acceptance fast. “Let me show you how to break someone.”

“Wait, I—” 

She falls apart in your lap. Really, it’s only a few harsh thrusts, and Chaewon hits your chest. She is a ragdoll that can whine and moan but otherwise is only a sextoy you have to move on your own. Both feet firmly on the ground, you push all your energy in those lower muscles to repeat this motion of rough fucking endlessly. Chaewon should feel that your power never runs out, that you can fuck her as hard and as much as you want. 

“You dumb cumdump!” Smack her ass again, then grab her long strands of gold-colored hair. “Your body knows it, your mind might too—now I need your silly mouth to admit it.”

Chaewon moans and her moan reaches a new pitch when you pull apart her asscheeks to pick her up and drop her down on your shaft. She is coating your crotch with her horny juice, drools over your chest, sweats on the hotel room couch. Chaewon is a dirty girl, so you will sully her more; more accurately, you will show her dirtiness to her beloved Minju. 

“Kneel on the couch, slut! Show me your ass.” Little resistance only. You quickly get behind her, adjust her towards Minju and rub your cock against her asshole. “Look at her. Can you even focus your blurry eyes on her?”

“I-I can…”

“Really?” Push your tip against her hole and feel her flinch in your arms. If she’d really want to, she could flee or at least fight back. Needless to say, she does not. “At least resist me, because your ass doesn’t. Just a bit of force—”

“Oh God!”

“—and I’m inside.” 

You grab Chaewon’s tits and treat these soft hills very not-softly. Your thumb and index pinch her nipples, the groping is hard, though nothing compared to the ass fucking she receives. Her anal cavity, which should be incredibly tight, gapes for you easily. 

Apart from groans, screams and the occasional expletive, Chaewon does not speak anymore. She must know that the next thing she says will betray her fundamentals, oh, those silly fundamentals: never giving up, always fighting for Minju, beating you after becoming better. Now, she is another one of your sluts, who bends over for you, spreads her ass for you and produces silly sounds from all her openings.

“The decision is so easy.

“You don’t make it look easy.

“You’re not smart, Chaewon.

“Stop resisting me.

“Say it.”

Suddenly, Chaewon is trapped between you and Minju. She could rest her head on the younger girl’s bosom, but she does not dare to. The thought of failure and losing this battle so decisively leaves her shattered. This state does not last for long however, as she sees how happy Minju’s eyes glisten in the warm light of the hotel room. It’s fine to lose, it’s good to lose.

“I-I’m yours, Daddy.”

“Do you fucking mean it, whore?”

“Yes, Daddy. I’m your s-slutty whore.”

“Fantastic. Minju, bring me the bag of those from the bedroom. We need to celebrate that Chaewon is finally honest with herself.”

You move back to your original position with Chaewon on your lap, cock still balls deep in her asshole. She sniffles a bit, hisses when you nibble at her neck and play with all three of her sensitive nubs quickly. A new toy must be checked properly and this is definitely something that you can work with later. Minju returns with the bag and you reach into it. 

“Your ass is already pretty wide, so this should fit.” You pull out a large, shiny butt plug with a diamond that will decorate her sore butt cheeks perfectly. “Make sure to keep yourself spread when I pull out.”

“Yes, Daddy.”

You slowly drag your cock out. Instead of immediately filling her hole, you instead inspect how it gapes wide, then clenches around nothing. Chaewon shivers on your lap. You order Minju to check it out as well, which almost makes Chaewon cry from embarrassment. 

“No need to feel ashamed,” you laugh. “I think Minju likes it as much as I do.”

“It looks very hot, Unnie, I think Daddy can fuck it many times.”

“D-don’t say it like that,” Chaewon faintly whispers. You push the butt plug inside her and feel her breathe a sigh of relief when she doesn’t have to show herself off anymore. The three of you get up from the couch.

“Minju, make sure to securely tie your friends arms, while I get this ready.” This is a see through dildo, almost as big as your cock and still very much dry. To get it well-lubricated for Chaewon’s pussy, you shove it into her mouth and make sure she has to deepthroat it. Chaewon might have dodged you if it weren’t for Minju, who has tied ropes around her wrists and lower arms. Only when tears leave her eyes, you pull the dildo out and place it on the small living room table in front of the couch. 

“Sit down on it, but don’t move. No fucking yourself. This will be your first real punishment.” Before Chaewon can protest (or maybe she opened her mouth to accept it and praise you) you force a ball gag into her mouth and watch her shout inaudible things as her pussy is split open again. 

“Now, you can watch Minju and I make out until the next person—”

A knock on the hotel room door, again. 

“Speak of the devil.”

[heartfullofleeches]

Boys in cheer hit harder!

Masochist Bully Yan + Male Cheerleader Darling

[Physical Violence, Masochism, suggestive themes so 18+, as implied by the title - reader wears a skirt/presents feminine]

-

“Wanna repeat that again? Huh? Bitch-” 

Locking your arms around his neck, your knee soars into the bridge of your assailant's nose - thick, runny blood gushing like a broken faucet as he staggers backwards, nauseated from the pain. 

Hands shove and prod at his back, the defeating cheers of the ever growing crowd clawing at his ear drums as he's flung squarely in the direction of your follow up attack. Stars staining his vision, sound is all there is to guide him as your fist crashes into his side - the studded ring gifted to you by one of the girls on your team sure to leave a curious bruise. He wheezes, splatters of crimson dying the whites of your favorite blouse red. A deep, hateful color- One that paints your vision as you screech in rage. 

“Making fun of the way I dress isn't enough for you.. Do you know how hard it is to get stains out of the shirt?!” 

“Wait, I'm sorry, about everything- Please-” 

His head bounces off the concrete - your entire body weight launched at him at lighting speed as you scramble to climb on top of him. Meaty thwacks proceed one after another as you unleash your fury on, refusing to let up as screams of vindication muddy into murmurs of hesitant concern.

Everyone knew he deserved it. Even the ones who arrived late to the show. Hell- he was the one who swung first, but there is a fine line between self defense and manslaughter. 

A single soul in the crowd didn't give a damn if the beating was justified or not. All he cared for was the bastard's vile words towards you - and his audacity to take his rightful place at the mercy of your wrists. 

The two of you had been walking home together when it happened. You, enthusiastically retelling the exciting tales of your day. Him, working up the courage to hold your hand. Truth be told, Erin had been neglecting time with his boys in favor of you. Some understood, others didn't. 

Why would anyone choose a freak like you over them? 

He didn't want to cause a scene. Erin was dead set on cooling the situation publicly, dragging his so-called “friend” behind the school to teach him a lesson - but you acted first. Everything happened so quickly. If he hadn't been so overwhelmed by the gust in your - something unheard of in a gentle soul like you, he would have protected you better. 

From the current outlook of things, he should be the one in your protection. 

That should be me. 

Erin's mouth hangs agape as your shapely ass springs off the chest of his former ally - a tiny, defeated whimper creaking from his throat as the crack of a heavy handed slap reverberates through the air. So close he can almost taste it. Almost feel it. Your manicured nails piercing his skin. Those powerful legs straddling him as you pummel him into submission. Your glossy lips smeared with his blood and tears. 

“Ngh..” 

He hisses through his teeth - the buckling of his hips weaving traction to the growing tent in his pants as the sensitive flesh grazes the fabric of his boxers. Nowhere near as soft as the panties you so proudly flaunt by your lonesome in the locker rooms, but enough to leave him a breath away from crying out for his turn. 

“You got my stuff, Rinny?” 

If there was anything to make him come undone, the airy giggle in your voice hit the nail on the head. Erin rubs at his neck, your backpack shielding the painful stiffness in his jeans. He glances around - the crowd now disburse with two of his other former acquaintances dragging their unconscious friend away. 

“Ah… y-yeah… Why don't I.. just hold onto it until we get to your place?”

“Awwwe, you're so sweet, Rinny!” 

Gluing yourself to his hip, you snuggle into Erin's arms - fingers interlocking with his. Erin clicks his tongue, wiping at your bloodied cheek with feigned annoyance. 

“You're such a mess.” 

But you're his mess, and that's all that matters. 

[nadvs]

cam girl (part seven)

pairing rafe cameron x female reader

rating explicit 18+

summary you work two jobs. by day, you’re a maid for the cameron household, where rafe degrades you any chance he can get. by night, you’re a cam girl, hiding your face so nobody can recognize you. when you discover your new subscriber, the filthy-mouthed man obsessively paying you to do everything he can think of, is rafe, you’re not sure what to do next.

» masterlist

*+:★:+*━━━*+:★:+*━━━*+:★:+*

Rafe’s hands are immediately all over you.

The front door shuts behind him and his teeth are nipping at the crook of your neck, his fingers digging into your waist, making you melt beneath him.

He pushes you backwards, your butt hitting the hard edge of your kitchen table. You breathe in the smell of his sharp cologne, having it committed to memory by now.

He couldn’t get through a minute of you on camera before rushing over to your apartment. The feeling of the power you have over him is like a drug.

He’s hard against you and you feel like even though the bra and panties you’re wearing for him are the skimpiest things you own, there’s too much fabric on your body. You want to be entirely naked for him.

The legs of the table rock and you hear one of your textbooks fall and slam onto the tile floor as you both clamber towards your bedroom.

You’re on your back in your bed when you watch Rafe feverishly pull off his shirt and jeans, acting like he can’t move fast enough, stripping down to his briefs.

You drink him in, how big and commanding he is, how taut the muscles that line his body are. This man could have any girl. But he’s in your bedroom.

Rafe’s rough when he kneels down and puts his hands below your knees, pushing your thighs against your chest. You’re curled into the tight position, short of breath.

“Don’t pull that shit with me again,” he mutters the first words between you since he arrived, his mouth inches away from yours. “Don’t…” Rafe shakes his head like he can’t find the words. “It wasn’t funny.”

You look up at him with wide eyes, quickly grasping that he’s referring to your spat last night. You nod, your mind replaying the way he stormed out.

Don’t tease him when he shows any sort of concern for you. Got it.

You know better than to think that it actually messed with him to think something happened to you. He was pissed because you didn’t obey him. You’re his property. He doesn’t actually care.

“Okay,” you whisper.

“Fuck,” he chuckles, looking down at you. “You already made a mess.”

You follow his gaze, seeing the moisture on your pink underwear.

You’re grateful the moment of confrontation was so short, brushed away so quickly. You don’t want to fight with him. You just want to fuck.

“All I had to do was think about you,” you tell him.

“You get that wet for me only, huh, baby?” he taunts. “I don’t think you should wear panties anymore if this is what I do to you.”

“Whatever you want,” you say, completely submissive to him.

“That’s fucking right, whatever I want,” he states. “Is this pussy gonna squirt for me tonight?”

“Yes.” You promise yourself you’ll do whatever the hell it takes to do it for him. His eyes are on you as his thumb rubs over your clit.

“Every time you get close to cumming, tell me,” he orders you. He shifts to put his hand on your face to force you to look at him, squeezing your cheeks like he did last night. “I want you to be so desperate to cum that once I let you, it fucking spills out of you, understand?”

You can only nod, at a loss for words. Every time you think he can’t get any hotter, he proves you wrong.

“Understand?” Rafe repeats sternly.

“Yes.”

“Where’s that toy I bought you?”

You wordlessly point to the nightstand’s drawer. He moves off the bed, digging into his jeans to pull out his phone first. He remotely turns on the vibrator, tossing his phone on your bed.

When he presses the toy against your clit over your panties, you shudder.

“Fuck,” you groan, your voice weak. He hovers over you, watching you writhe.

“I put it on the highest setting, princess,” he drawls. “Feels good, huh? You like when I buy you shit like this? You like whoring yourself out for me?”

“I fucking love it,” you say. “I’m your slut.”

“Say that again,” Rafe demands.

“I’m your slut.”

“Yeah, you fucking are.” The sound of his deep voice mixed with the buzzing toy is perfection.

The vibrations make your hips involuntarily buck and you groan. Your body tenses.

“I’m close,” you whisper. He moves the toy off of you.

“Already?” Rafe’s tone is mocking. He snaps your bra strap against your collarbone. “Take this shit off.”

You obey and he slips his fingers beneath the thin band of your panties and drags them off, leaving you entirely naked.

He pushes the backs of your thighs down hard again, putting you into the same curled position he started with. Your knees are almost next to your ears and the way he’s contorting you is blissfully painful.

He taps his dick over your pussy before he shoves into you with a long exhale, filling you entirely, sliding in so damn easily.

“Whatever happened to liking it slow?” you provoke him, thinking back to your first cam session.

“I’m…” Rafe’s smile is lazy. “I’m fucking addicted to you now. I’m not taking anything slow anymore.”

His words make you feel high. His gaze is focused on where his body is meeting yours, and you take in the sight of him sitting up on his knees and thrusting into you, his stomach muscles flexing.

Rafe’s lips are parted and turned up into a smile while he watches your pussy take him in.

“Goddamn,” he says. He pulls out of you and reaches for his phone. You realize he wants to record you as he points the camera at your pussy, then buries his cock into you again.

You watch as he uses his thumb to push up past your clit, stretching you so his camera captures every part of you.

Rafe pulls out, then pushes in again, watching his screen with his bottom lip trapped under his teeth. He’s so fucking dazed right now, savoring the way you take all of him, entertained by how he can use you.

He withdraws, leaving your cunt empty again. With his phone lowered to film you closer, he curls two fingers into you, making you moan as he twists his wrist to feel you at a different angle, knuckles nudging against your walls.

Rafe is playing with you like the toy that you are and you can’t help but feel satisfied that he’s so fucking enamored by you. You think back to when he called you his dream girl and you know he wasn’t just saying that. He looks like he’s under a spell.

After he pulls his fingers out, he stretches your lips apart with his forefinger and middle finger, displaying you like you’re a work of art.

Blue eyes trail up to meet yours and Rafe looks nothing short of captivated. It almost makes you shy that he’s gazing at you like this. You realize how odd it is to feel that way after everything you’ve done together.

“What?” you laugh. He only tosses his phone back onto your bed before pushing down on your hamstrings, positioning himself to enter you again.

“Fuck,” you shudder at his force. “That’s so fucking good.”

“I can use this pussy whenever I want, huh?” he groans, his tip hitting your cervix.

“Mhm, baby,” you promise, your breath growing faster.

Rafe leans over you, putting even more weight on your legs, forcing them tighter against your chest. It makes it even harder to breathe, but you love when he’s rough.

His balls hit your ass with every solid pummel, your mattress springs digging into your back from the way he has you folded over yourself.

The familiar sensation builds up in you and you groan, wishing you didn’t have to stop him.

“Cl-close,” you whisper, putting a hand on his chest. Rafe pulls out quickly, rubbing his slick cock.

He aggressively pulls your legs down and shifts to hover over you, his knees framing your face.

To your sick delight, he reaches for his phone again. You look up at the camera pointed at you through low lids, your lips parting when he puts the tip of his dick against your chin.

“What’d you call yourself, baby?” Rafe asks behind the phone, recording you. You truly feel like his personal pornstar now, the sinfulness of what he’s doing turning you on even more.

“Your slut,” you groan. “I’m your whore.”

“Fuck,” he chuckles, pushing his dick into your mouth. You keep your eyes trained on the camera as you take him in.

His hand rests on your cheek, the ring on his forefinger cold against your skin. His thumb strokes over your temple as he pushes his dick into your mouth, only going halfway.

“You live for this cock, hmm?” he asks.

“Mhm,” you say, muffled.

“I fucking own you.” He taps his fingers against your cheek, giving you three gentle slaps, making you shut your eyes and smile with your mouth full.

“Stick out your tongue,” he orders you. When you do, he chuckles darkly, rubbing the curve of his cock up and down on it.

Rafe tosses his phone to the side again, putting his hands on the bed to bend over you and guide his entire length inside your mouth.

“Stay still,” he orders you. You feel him push slowly until he hits the back of your throat. He pulls out agonizingly slow, then pushes himself in and out over and over.

“Never get tired of fucking this mouth,” he groans over the sounds of you gagging on him.

You moan, feeling your feet plant onto the bed as you buck your hips up, wishing he would just fuck you again.

When Rafe shifts back down, he grabs you by the roots of your hair.

“You’re gonna ride my face,” he tells you. You nod desperately, letting him pull you into a seated position.

Rafe flips onto his back and you straddle his face, groaning at the feeling of his hot breath against your pussy.

You’re holding yourself up on your knees, hovering over him, and he digs his fingers into your asscheeks.

You look down, writhing over him, rubbing yourself on his open mouth. Your movements turn into harder grinds, and you put your fingers through his soft hair, keeping his head steady.

His eyes roll back and the arousing image makes you smile. Maybe he likes being used a little bit, too.

You feel his hand curl around your butt, his finger pressing against your asshole. The stimulation makes you tremble.

Rafe captures your clit, sucking hard. You feel the same tightening again.

“Almost…” you breathily warn and he pulls you off of him.

With his big hands on your waist, he pushes you onto your back again. His hands find your tits and he roughly squeezes as he sits over you.

It’s all so transfixing, the way he’s rapidly changing through positions, so sure of what he wants to do to you next.

“I know you wanna cum so bad, princess,” he coaxes. “You’re doing such a good job.”

“Thank you, baby,” you whimper, arching your back as he fondles your tits. He bends low, putting his mouth on your chest.

You’re overwhelmed as he bites and sucks and pinches and plays, and you tightly shut your eyes, feeling the throb between your legs.

Rafe gives you enough time to come down from the near orgasm, then shifts to sit up against your bed frame.

He beckons you to him with his hands, his cock swollen and leaking.

“Bounce on it,” he tells you.

You mount him, sinking down onto his hard length. Rafe grabs the toy, pushing the vibrator against your clit. You tremble and start to bob up and down, pussy wrapped around his firm cock, the feeling absolutely fucking electrifying.

Your hands are on his firm shoulders, your eyes locked on his, your clit stimulated and your cunt full.

You keep bouncing and riding and writhing and moaning. You’re sweating and you notice Rafe is too, both of you breathless from fucking so hard.

“I’m…” You can’t even tell him you’re close because the rising orgasm silences you, taking you prisoner.

Your veins are hot, every nerve tightening, and the greatest orgasm you’ve ever had begins to tear through you. It’s hard to keep your eyes open, but you force yourself to look down, feeling yourself clench and convulse.

You can’t believe your body’s doing it, but your cum squirts out of you, splashing in different directions on his stomach.

“Oh, fuuuuck,” Rafe groans, tossing the toy to the side and rubbing your clit feverishly to make you spatter in every direction. “Oh, my fucking God. That’s my good fucking girl.”

Your pussy is almost numb from pleasure, as if your body can’t handle feeling this damn good. Rafe takes over the pace, hands clutching your hips, penetrating your wet cunt hard until your body releases everything it has.

Your sigh is strained, your limbs loose. You lose all your strength, limp on top of him, but he continues to fuck you, his cock reaching deep inside you.

“Keep bouncing for me,” Rafe tells you. “Keep fucking bouncing.”

You obey, thighs burning, and he tilts his head back, Adam’s apple prominent, as he reaches his peak. He finishes inside you through hot, fast throbs.

You’re flushed and breathless, tilting forward. You’re quivering with your cheek against his temple, his damp skin on yours.

His hands move up and down your back in slow strokes, making your tits press over his chest.

“You did so good, baby,” Rafe says, panting.

“Yeah?” you whisper, gently convulsing. He chuckles at the way you’re trembling on top of him, his cock still stuffed inside you.

“You like when my cock stays inside, hmm?” he rasps. “You deserve it. Sit like this as long as you want.”

You tighten your arms around him, sitting on him and panting, your nose in his hair. You smell his shampoo, listen to his breaths.

Nobody has ever done this to you. Pushed you past every limit. Excited you this much. You had no idea this was who Rafe was.

He continues to hold you silently. You know you can’t like him, and you won’t, but you allow yourself to pretend you’re more than just fuck buddies in this small, sweet moment.

Then you pull yourself back into reality and know you should just appreciate it for what it is.

You find the strength to raise yourself off of Rafe, his dick slipping out of you, your mixed cum dribbling out onto him, your bed soaked.

“Fuck,” you whisper with a laugh. You’ll have to change your sheets tonight.

It reminds you that you’re working at his house tomorrow. How will you manage to see him and not want to rip his clothes off?

You spot Rafe’s phone on your pillow and pick it up, meeting his eyes when you hand it to him.

“You still want private shows now that you have those videos?” you ask playfully, your voice weak.

“Yeah,” he nods, a smirk on his lips. “I’ll always want them.”

“I’ll make you go broke.”

Rafe looks up in mock annoyance, but his laugh gives him away.

“Worth it,” he finally says. You giggle and swing your leg off of him, your pulse slowly going back to its regular pace.

Rafe gets out of bed and starts to put his clothes on as you grab a towel and get ready for a much-needed shower. You’re glad he’s not staying the night. Being cuddled to sleep by him even just one more time would confuse you all over again.

You follow him out of your room, bending down to pick up the heavy, torn up textbook the two of you had knocked over.

Rafe notices and looks at the cover.

“Jesus, what’d you do to that book?” he asks.

“Shut up, it was like this when I bought it, okay?” you say. “Used copy.”

“For school?” You realize just how little he knows about you.

“Yeah. I’m actually kind of smart,” you joke.

“I could tell,” he says. You figure he’s being sarcastic and trail him as he opens the front door, shutting it behind him and letting out a big breath.

You make it to the Cameron estate right on time the next morning. Your stomach is in a knot as you clean, wondering when Rafe will walk by and tempt you to risk your job by fucking him during work hours.

After cleaning the kitchen floors and surfaces, you open the cupboard below the sink to take out the trash. You tie the top of the bag, but when you try to pull it out, it’s too heavy.

You grunt as you try again but you’re unsuccessful. And honestly, you blame Rafe for making you so weak. Your body is still recovering from last night.

You spot one of the gardeners through the kitchen window and decide to ask for his help instead of straining yourself any further.

You can’t remember his name, but you open the nearby patio door leading out to the backyard and wave him over.

“Hey, sorry, could you help me with the garbage? It’s too heavy,” you ask the man. He’s a little taller than you, maybe a few years older, and is wearing a smile.

“Sure,” he says.

You both step into the kitchen and you point him to the cupboard. He takes off his gloves and yanks at the knot you tied. Finally, the bag wiggles free.

“I saved the day,” he jokes. “Where does this go?”

“Out there,” you say, leading him through the kitchen and right outside the door to the bin. “Thanks.”

“Better wash my hands,” he replies. You both walk back into the kitchen and you replace the garbage bag while he turns on the faucet.

You wait for him to move out of the way so you can close the cupboard, wash your hands, and tend to your next task.

“They treating you nice in here?” he asks quietly, looking over at you.

You try not to smile as blood rushes to your cheeks. If only the other staff around here knew what you were up to with Rafe.

“Yup,” you simply answer.

“Can’t lie, I’m glad I’m outside all day,” he says. “Nobody bothers me.”

You politely laugh, silently wishing he’d hurry up and let you go on with your day.

“I bet,” is all you can say.

He turns off the faucet and smiles at you.

“Back to it, huh?” he says, patting your shoulder. “Let me know if I can help with anything else.”

Your eyebrows draw together, feeling awkward that someone who’s not Rafe is touching you, even though it’s a friendly, innocent gesture.

He steps away and you hear the door to the backyard close behind you as you start to wash your hands.

When you shift to find a tea towel, you see Rafe standing on the other side of the big room.

You’re excited to see him, until you take in how he’s looking at you.

Even from here, you can see the anger in his gaze. You stare at him wordlessly, wondering what he’s thinking.

“What the fuck was that?” he snaps.

You quickly pace towards him so he doesn’t speak so loudly. You can’t risk anyone hearing. You could lose this job if anyone found out about you two.

Rafe crosses his arms, biceps jutting out his t-shirt, eyes lowering when you reach him.

“What?” you say, tone hushed.

“What. The fuck. Was that,” he repeats sternly. Is he seriously angry about your exchange with the gardener?

“Rafe, someone could hear you,” you say quietly.

He steps back, head titling, a look of disgust on his face.

“You think I give a shit?”

You brush past him to head somewhere private, knowing he’ll follow you.

“Don’t walk away from me,” he orders, his deep voice thundering through you.

You rush, heart pounding from anticipation, and hear him stalking behind you. When you reach the dark and empty laundry room, you turn to face Rafe and he’s suddenly pushing you back against a closet door.

He’s towering over you, fingers wrapped around your wrist, his jaw clenched.

“Why’d he touch you?” he mutters. “Why the fuck did you let him touch you? Why were you laughing with him? Are you fucking him, too?”

He’s pissed. Jealous as hell. And it sends a ripple of arousal through you. He’s seething over someone simply tapping your shoulder.

“I don’t even know his name,” you say with amusement, your heart skipping a beat. He’s unhinged. You’re with him every night. When would you even have time to hook up with someone else?

You feel yourself get wetter as Rafe pushes up against you.

“Do you need to be reminded of who you belong to?” he threatens.

And even though you definitely don’t need to be, you nod, desperate for him to have his way with you.

{ read part eight here }

[soonyoungs]

Can you do a smut with wonwoo taking pictures before and during sex?

ఇ wonwoo and vagina having!reader

ఇ warnings: smut! not proof read and as usual: written while sleepy!

ఇ wc: 1350 ♡︎

ఇ notes: these all seemed similar so i lumped them together. the end result is a bit different from the prompts, i’m so sorry!! i was struggling with this one a bit and im not sure why 🥺 i’m also sorry this took forever and thank you for being so patient, i hope you like it ✩

[9:48 pm] - wonwoo

“pay attention,” he’s chastising you, albeit playfully “trust me, this is the best part”! you don’t know how he’s managed to stay this calm, when you can’t even hardly catch your breath, let alone stop shaking long enough to steady the camera in your hands. you also don’t know if he means for you to pay attention to him or the movie he insisted on putting on.

“shut up,” you huff, adjusting yourself on the couch, careful to not squeeze his head between your legs “it’s not as if you’re going to quiz me when it’s over,” you pause waiting for confirmation, after several seconds of silence you gasp “are you”? a deep laugh rumbles from him as he rests his head against the inner part of your thigh. “wonwoo!” you complain, knowing how he enjoys teasing you.

“‘m serious,” he starts, looking at you and continuing before you can cut him off “about paying attention. it’s hotter that way.” he moves forward grabbing your wrists angling them downward, making sure they’re able to capture everything that’s about to happen. 

you honestly should have known this was going to happen, it always does when wonwoo goes down on you. he’s messy and desperate and so incredibly, and not so surprisingly, submissive. he’s a whining mess “you taste so fucking good”. the phone in your hands captures shaky footage of wonwoo barely peeking at you from where he’s got his face situated between your legs. he’s gentle with prying your knees farther apart, giving you small kisses on your thighs to appease you, he knows he’s not in control. with a nod of your head he’s quick to get back to work. 

wrapping his lips around your small, hard bud he’s gentle with suckling on it as he teases your entrance. “wonwoo, darling” you warn, “weren’t you ever taught not to play with your meal?” although he doesn’t look at you, you feel his nose scrunch up in distaste at your vulgar joke. 

a small chuckle leaves your throat before it shifts into a groan as wonwoo gives your clit a hash suck, easing his middle finger inside of you. once you seem to have gotten used to the intrusion of the first finger, he adds a second. wonwoo is slow to pick up the pace of his fingers as he lazily drags them out, pushes them back in and curls them before repeating the process. your hips begin to wiggle, indicating your growing impatience. no words are needed: a small glare from you is enough for him to catch the hint.

wonwoo’s fingers, that were ceaselessly moving at a relaxed pace, are now being drilled in to you as he begins lapping harder at your clit. alternating between harsh sucks and sweet kitten licks. free hand on your tummy, gently keeping you still so he can work. you’re letting out loud moans of his name as you begin to feel your climax approaching. a final powerful suck and curl of his fingers and wonwoo has thrown you into the flames - your high taking over. 

wonwoo laps at you softly as he slowly removes his fingers from you as you come down. you’re whining as he believes he is helping to bring you back to reality, until he hears you rasp out “another one”. he lifts his head up from your center, examining your face to see that you mean it. “another one, wonwoo,” you say, warning in your tone “i want more”.  obliging you, wonwoo sits up, crossing his legs and grips your hips, lifting you to bring your legs over his shoulders. 

you startle at the unexpected movement and drop the phone in your hands in the process. you’re quick to recover it and adjust just in time to capture the perfect angle of him bringing your center to his face as he begins to devour you. hands gripping your hips tightly, so you don’t fall as you grind yourself into him. your whines and moans echo throughout your living room, making wonwoo’s ears perk up. raising his head briefly he asks “am i doing a good job”? you bite your lip to keep from letting out a whine.

“yes baby,” you breath out “you’re doing so well. i’m so, so close again. just a bit more,” you steady the phone in one hand and reach your other up to his lips, glistening with your wetness. your thumb makes contact with the corner of his mouth, you gather up your essence dragging it along his bottom lip and gently push it past the entrance of his mouth and press it against his tongue. wonwoo groans as he closes his lips around your thumb and begins suckling on it. once you’ve had enough of watching him suck on your finger, you pull it from his mouth and continue to drag it on his bottom lip down to his chin, gathering more slick. lifting your thumb from his face you bring it to your clit and apply pressure, rubbing in small circles. “wonwoo, make me cum” you order, removing your hand and bring your thumb to your mouth, putting on a show of tasting yourself.

wonwoo throws his head back with a groan. after he recollects himself he makes sure both of your hands are back on the phone before he dives back in. he’s messy with it, licking the expanse of your entire center, bringing his tongue to your opening, teasing the entrance before sticking the tip in and pursing his lips to suck your wetness out of you, as if you’re his favorite juice box.

you’re wiggling around just enough to worry him, so he readjusts his grip on you. straightening out his back he lifts your hips up off of the couch as he pulls back to spread your pussy open for him with his fingers before getting back to it. the phone has fallen out of your hands on to the cushion above your head and you have no plans to pick it back up. you’re crying out, reaching forward and clawing at wonwoo’s hands. at this moment there’s only one thing you’re certain of and it’s that Miss Carpenter had it wrong. this isn’t a painting wonwoo is creating - it’s a masterpiece; certainly not art but worship.

wonwoo is moving his head at a rapid pace as his lips wrap around you and tug, pushing you over the edge. he grips your hips as your body twitches and spasms harshly, bringing you closer to his mouth as he works you to completion, only as soon as your climax ends another begins. “wonwoo,” you repeat his name in warning “coming, i’m coming. feels so good, you’re making me come so hard” tears run down your face as you start to feel an unfamiliar pressure in your belly. before you can warn wonwoo you let out a scream of ecstasy as you release a small gush of climax onto him. wonwoo is working as hard as he can to lap up everything you give him, licking you as clean as he can before he feels your body go limp.

gently releasing you and laying you down properly on the couch, wonwoo rubs your hips where he’s gripped them too tightly. with a small, content, sigh and soft smile on your face you search for the phone you dropped, managing to find it within seconds. you bring the camera up, capturing the aftermath of your climax on wonwoo’s face. 

looking every bit of a wet fantasy you focus the camera on him: his eyes are glazed over in lust, a gloss of your wetness covers his mouth and part of his chin and his fringe is tousled to hell, covering his eyes. wonwoo’s tongue peeks out from the corner of his mouth as he licks up some of your essence before letting out a deep chuckle, running his hands through his bangs, all hints of submission nonexistent. “now baby,” he drawls “can you tell me the name of the main character in the movie that was on?”

[drewswife]

summary: Spencer grew his hair long, so now you want to braid his hair

warnings: fluff, spencer being a cry baby,

"Look at that mop," you declared, pointing a finger at Spencers head. "It's like a furry, brown yeti decided to take up residence." Spencer, mid-sentence about the statistical probability of a serial killer preferring Tuesdays, blinked at you, his long hair swaying slightly.

"My hair?" "Yes, your hair," you confirmed, leaning closer. "It's… magnificent. Magnificent in a 'needs to be wrangled into submission' way." He frowned, adjusting his glasses.

"I fail to see the issue. It's simply… long." "Long and unruly," you countered. "And I've got a solution." "A solution?" he echoed, his eyes narrowing suspiciously. "To what, exactly?" he said, eyes narrowed slightly. "To this," you said, gesturing wildly at his hair.

 "I'm going to braid it." Spencer's eyes widened, and he instinctively backed away, nearly tripping over his overflowing messenger bag. "Braid it? Why would you…?"he asked, his voice tinged with both confusion and concern. You flashed a wide grin "Because it'll be hilarious," you said, grinning.

"And because I've always wanted to try. It's like a… a hair experiment!" He looked around the bullpen, as if searching for a sympathetic face, but everyone else was engrossed in their work, pretending not to notice the impending hair-related chaos.

 "But… I don't want my hair braided," he protested, his voice rising slightly. "It's… it's sensitive." "Sensitive?" you echoed, raising an eyebrow. "Like a delicate flower?" "Well, yes," he mumbled, his cheeks flushing. "The follicles are… easily agitated." "Oh, they'll be fine," you assured him, grabbing a hair tie from your wrist.

 "Besides, it'll be a bonding experience. Think of the sociological implications!" He stared at you, his mouth agape. "Sociological implications?" "Sure," you said, pulling him towards the nearest chair.

"We'll be exploring the dynamics of forced hairstyling in a work environment. It's practically a case study!" He reluctantly sat down, his posture rigid, his eyes darting around the bullpen as if expecting a rescue mission.

 "Just… be gentle," he pleaded. "And quick. Please." "As a feather," you promised, already sectioning off his hair. "Now, hold still." You began to braid, your fingers working with surprising dexterity.

Spencer, meanwhile, was a picture of nervous tension. He flinched at every tug, whimpered at every pull, and occasionally let out a small, high-pitched squeak. "Are you alright?" you asked, suppressing a giggle. "You sound like a startled squirrel." "It's… it's just a bit… sensitive," he mumbled, his eyes squeezed shut.

 "And it tickles." "Tickles?" you repeated, trying to keep a straight face. "Oh, you poor thing. Maybe we should stop and get you a tiny violin." He glared at you, his eyes flashing behind his glasses.

"Very funny," he mumbled. "I thought so," you said, continuing to braid. "Now, try to relax. Think of… math or obscure historical facts." He tried, but his attempts at mental distraction were constantly interrupted by his involuntary yelps and whimpers.

 "Ow! That's… that's a bit tight!" "Sorry, sorry," you said, loosening the braid slightly. "Better?" "Yes," he mumbled, his voice trembling slightly. "But… are you almost done?" "Almost," you said, tying off the end of the braid.

"And… voila!" He opened his eyes, reaching up to tentatively touch the braid. "It's… surprisingly neat," he admitted, his voice laced with surprise. "Of course it is," you said, admiring your handiwork.

"I'm a master braider. It's one of my many hidden talents." He rolled his eyes, but a small smile played on his lips. "And what about the sociological implications?" he asked, his voice laced with sarcasm.

"Oh, those are still being processed," you said, tapping your chin thoughtfully. "But we can safely conclude that forced hairstyling leads to mild discomfort and a healthy dose of sarcasm." He chuckled, shaking his head.

"You're incorrigible." "And you," you said, grinning, "are rocking that braid. It's like a… a scholarly Rapunzel." He groaned, burying his face in his hands. "Please, just… stop talking." "Never," you said, grabbing his arm.

 "Now, let's go show off your new look. I'm sure Hotch will be thrilled." He groaned again but allowed you to drag him out of the bullpen, the long, neatly braided tail of his hair bouncing behind him. You couldn't help but laugh.

tags: @sleepysongbirdsings @spencerreid66 @khxna

taglist

[insidekatmind]

His toy~ The masked officer (black guard)

Wearning: +18,smut,manipulation,dark, age-gap

Request: yes!

The air was filled with the pungent smell of cigarette smoke, a smell that was now familiar to you. His breathing was slow, calm, as if all the chaos around you didn’t matter. You were there, straddling him, with his cock buried in your pussy as you warmed it up. You were trapped in his dominion, in his perverse game.

At first you were a player like the others. A number among many, another desperate one ready to risk everything to survive. You had followed the same rules, suffered the same fears. But then he had noticed you. You didn’t know what had caught his attention: the way you faced the games? The fire in your eyes? Or just a whim? Whatever the reason, the masked officer had torn you away from that common destiny and made you his.

He had removed you from the competition, removed you from the hungry looks of your companions and the sadistic games of death. But he hadn’t set you free. No, your captivity had become more intimate, darker. He had made you his, a toy to keep close, to admire and control.

“You know, you could have died today,” he murmured, blowing a puff of smoke against your face. His tone was amused. “Maybe you should thank me,” he said, touching your ass while his cock was still buried inside you.

Your throat went dry, but you didn’t dare rebel. Every time you’d tried, he’d reminded you who had the power. His hands slid lazily down your back, not with gentleness, but with cruel possession. He was a man used to being in control, to bending anyone to his will.

He’d given you different clothes, better food, even a more comfortable bed, but everything came at a price. His company, his fun. To him, you were no longer a player, no longer a number. You were a pastime, an obsession.

"Tell me, are you afraid of me?" he asked, tilting his head as he peered at you.

You didn't answer right away. Were you afraid? Yes. But worse than fear, there was something worse: habit. You had grown accustomed to his touch, the way his gaze followed you, his cumbersome presence. You had grown accustomed to being his.

He smiled, as if he had read your thoughts. "Good girl." the guard whispers contentedly.

You leaned against his, sighing, feeling how you were warming up his cock.

He chuckled, enjoying your submission, your compliance.

“I can feel how you melt for me.” His words send a shiver down your spine.

He pulled you closer, his hands moving up your thighs, feeling your skin against his fingertips.

“Such a good girl,” he murmured, his voice low and seductive. “You belong to me now.”

The masked officer keeping his hands firmly on your hips, guiding your movements as you rocked on his lap.

He hummed in approval, his smile widening as you denied any attempt to escape. he liked that you were obedient, that you knew your place.

“Good girl,” he repeated, his hands roaming over your body, caressing your curves, squeezing your hips.

He leaned forward, his mouth hovering over your neck, his breath hot against your skin.

“you’re all mine now, you understand?” he whispered, his lips brushing against your earlobe.

Despite the fear, a strange excitement bubbled within you, as his dominant presence awakened sensations you'd never felt before. You nodded, submitting completely to him, to the possessive man claiming you.

“Yes, sir,” you replied, your voice barely above a whisper. The words came out automatically, a response to his authority, to the way he commanded you effortlessly.

He hummed contentedly, his touch becoming more possessive, his grip on your body more commanding.

He chuckled at your obedience, clearly pleased with your submission. He loved how easy it was for him to control you, how he could make you do whatever he wanted just by commanding you.

He moved his lips down your neck, leaving a trail of kisses and bites along the way.

“that’s it,” he murmured, his voice a low rumble against your skin. “you’re mine, completely mine. no one else will ever touch you again.”his hands moved lower, grabbing your ass, pulling you closer to him, making you take his cock deeper.

You were unable to deny the pleasure his touch sent through you, the thrill mingling with the fear. With each word, each possessive gesture, the mask that covered his face seemed to become a part of him, a symbol of the power he held over you.

"I'm yours," you repeated, the words a surrender, a promise.

"Only yours." You knew it was true. No one else would have the same claim to you, the same influence.

He smirked against your skin, loving the sound of those words.

“that’s right,” he whispered, his hands gripping your ass tighter, almost possessively. He lifted his head, looking at you with a mixture of desire and dominance.

“you’re mine, and no one else can have you,” he said, his eyes roaming over your body, taking in every inch of you.

The masked officer started to move his hips in sync with your movements, helping you ride him even faster.As you rocked on it, his breath caught in his throat, his control slowly slipping . He wrapped a hand around your neck, a possessive gesture that showed the extent of his claim over you. With each passing second, you were becoming more and more his.

Your bodies moved together, creating a rhythm of domination and submission.

"That’s it," he whispered, his voice rough and breathless. "You’re so good for me."

The new position forced you to arch your body, your head falling back against his shoulder.

You closed your eyes, feeling the overwhelming sensations he was igniting in you. You could feel the heat radiating from him, the smell of his cigarette, his musk filling your senses. Your body was trembling uncontrollably, your mind consumed by the pleasure he was giving you. He had you completely at his mercy.

The moans you let out were pornographic, he groans and reaches for his cigarette again taking a drag as he guides your hips.

You moaned and bounce on his cock as you got drunk on the feeling of his cock inside you, his hand on your neck and the way he was smoking the cigarette.

He chuckled again, clearly enjoying the effect he had on you.

he tightened his grip on your neck, enough to make you feel his dominance even more.

The masked officer pulled you closer to him, his body pressed against yours, his chest against your back.

He took another drag from his cigarette, then blew the smoke directly into your ear.

“you’re so damn needy,” he whispered, his voice low and filled with lust. “you can’t get enough of me, can you?”

You were unable to deny his words. You had become addicted to the way he touched you, the way he controlled you. Your body ached for him, longed for his touch, his touch.

The way he spoke, with such possessive dominance, only made you want him even more. You were willing to do anything he asked, anything he desired. You were completely addicted to him, your body and mind under his command.

He could feel your desperation, your need for him. it was intoxicating, and it only fueled his own desire.

He moved his free hand down your body, his fingers tracing a path along your curves.

he nipped at your earlobe, his teeth grazing against the sensitive skin.

“you’re mine,” he repeated, his voice a possessive growl. “my little toy, my little slut.”

His words sent a shiver down your spine, but you couldn’t deny the effect they had on you. You were his, there was no denying it. He had complete control over you, and you loved every second of it.

He could feel your body tremble in response to his words, and he loved it.

He smirked, enjoying the way you responded to him. He loved the way you surrendered to him, the way you were completely at his mercy.

He began to thrust up into you, matching your movements with his own, his grip on your neck and hip tightening even more.

“that’s it,” he whispered again, his voice a mixture of dominance and pleasure. “take it, take my cock like a good girl.”

You felt as if you had no control over your own body, your mind completely consumed by the sensations he was creating. His words, his touch, his dominance is too much for you. "Yes" you say groan.

He chuckled again, clearly pleased with your response.

The masked officer loved how you responded to him, how he could reduce you to a moaning mess with just a few words and touches.

He continued to thrust up into you, his pace growing faster and more urgent.

He leaned forward, his lips brushing against your neck, his breath hot against your skin.

“you’re so damn beautiful like this,” he whispered, his voice strained with pleasure. “so desperate, so needy, all for me.”

You felt the heat radiating from him, the power he had over you, and it excited you even more. You knew you were completely addicted to him, your body and mind completely under his control. His words, his touch, his domination made you weak, and you loved it.

You felt the heat radiating from him, the power he had over you, and it excited you even more. You knew you were completely addicted to him, your body and mind completely under his control. His words, his touch, his domination made you weak, and you loved it."I'm so close" you say.

He could feel your body clenching around him, your movements becoming more erratic.

The masked officer smirked against your skin, knowing that you were close.

He pulled you even closer to him, his body pressed against yours, his chest against your back.

He nipped at your earlobe again, his voice a low growl.

“come for me,” he whispered, his command a demand. “come on my cock, my little toy.”

As you reached your peak, he felt your body tremble and convulse around him.

He held you tight against him, his own pleasure building up as he felt you climax.

He continued to thrust into you, prolonging your orgasm, relishing in the feeling of your body spasming around him.

He whispered your name like a mantra, his voice hoarse with desire.

You whimpered and leaned against his chest as you felt him cum inside you.

He let out a low groan as he reached his own climax, his body shuddering with pleasure.

He held you tightly, his arms wrapped around you, his chest heaving as he tried to catch his breath.

He buried his face in your neck, breathing in your scent, feeling your body against his.

“goddamn…” he muttered, his voice still hoarse. “that was… incredible.”

His grip loosened slightly, but he kept his arms around you, as if he couldn't bear to let you go.

He took another drag from his cigarette, the smoke swirling around you before dissipating in the air.

He chuckled again, a self-satisfied sound.

“you did so well,” he murmured, his voice still rough. “my good little toy.”

[wh0reforcoriolanussnow]

“Are you gonna be a good girl?” || Young President!Coriolanus Snow x reader

Summary: Coryo's friends have always been and probably will always be condescending towards you. When you refuse to stay home when he invites them over for dinner, you become aware of the intricate control that Coriolanus has skillfully woven around you, highlighting a sense of submission in your actions.

Warnings: reader smoking, age gap (r is 18 and Coryo is 25), manipulative, controlling, toxic!coryo, power dynamic, condescending behaviour,

Wc: 740

A/n: crap summary but i kinda got inspired by Priscilla and I lowkey imagined cailee as Priscilla in this but u don’t have to. I LOVE THIS MOVIE SM 😭 also pretend Arachne is still alive.

"I want to visit my family later today, Coryo," you mention, casually flicking the ashes from your cigarette into the nearby ashtray. Coryo looks up from his newspaper, his gaze fixed on you. “What?”

"I want to see my family later today," you repeat, "I haven’t seen them in weeks." The sentiment is laced with a tinge of longing. With a cigarette delicately held between meticulously manicured nails, your painted lips articulate the words, the smoke swirling into the air.

A hush settles in the air until Coryo’s voice breaks the silence, his tone void of emotion. “You can’t. Not today,” he asserts, his attention returning to the newspaper. Your eyes fixate on him. “And why not?” You try not to raise your voice, but a hint of urgency slips through.

"Because, sweetheart, we have guests coming over for dinner." You roll your eyes. "And I want you here, yes?" he adds, pointing to you. “Who’s coming?” Coriolanus sighs deeply, dismissing the question with, “Does it matter?”

“Yes, it does matter. Who’s coming, Coryo?” Your tone grows more agitated. He casually shrugs, “Just a few of my friends, that’s all.” The harsh stubbing out of your cigarette emphasizes your displeasure.

"Your friends?" you question, annoyance evident in your tone. Sensing your irritation, he casually discards his newspaper to the side. “Yes, does that bother you?” he spat in response, his words carrying a tinge of defiance.

You let out an exasperated laugh, “You know how I dislike your friends, Coryo. They’re horrible to me!” You grip the armchair tightly, leaning towards him. You can practically feel the irritation radiating off you.

Coriolanus dismissively rolls his eyes. “Please. They’re not horrible to you. You’re being dramatic—” The room is charged with tension as your hand forcefully slams on the table. “Yes. They are. They belittle me, Coryo!” The weight of your words hangs in the air, your chest heaving from the emotional intensity of the outburst.

It's true. Whenever you're around Coriolanus' friends, it's hard not to notice the condescending vibe they throw your way, the snarky comments about anything and everything about you.

The memory of your wedding day remains vivid in your mind, etched with indelible images of raised eyebrows and skeptical glances from all of Snow's friends as you walked down the aisle. The collective gaze left you with a lingering sense of embarrassment. You were only 17, and he was 24.

You were well aware of the swarm of thoughts buzzing through their minds every time they saw you with Coriolanus. According to them, you were too young, too naive, too quiet, and perhaps even too unintelligent to hold the title of First Lady.

The unsolicited opinions seemed to echo a common sentiment: Coriolanus should have chosen someone closer to his age, someone who shared more similarities with him.

Conversations with his friends were always filled with subtly belittling comments that Coryo either didn't notice or chose to ignore.

Arachne stood out as the harshest among them all. Her comments, in particular, were cutting and had a way of driving you out of the room, often leaving you with tears streaming down your face.

In their eyes, you were just weak. A wife who sat there and looked pretty. But you were more than that, you knew that, hell, even Coriolanus knew that, but he never spoke up.

"They just like to tease you. Don't be so sensitive," he scoffs, the nonchalance in his tone amplifying your frustration. You gnaw at your lips as Coriolanus rises with a sigh, leisurely stretching his neck before heading to the nearby table to pour himself a glass of alcohol.

"I don't want to be here," you whisper loud enough for him to hear you. "I want to see my family, Coryo," your voice trembling with the urgency of your plea. "You can't deny me of seeing my own family," you exclaimed, the words escaping your lips with an urgency that surprised even you.

His response was swift, harsh. He took hold of your chin, his fingers digging into your flesh as he forced you to look at him. "You are to stay here, do you hear me?" he commanded, his voice cutting through the air.

The forcefulness of his grip left you momentarily breathless. Your attempt to pull away was futile as his gaze bore into you, a mix of anger and expectation in his eyes. Tears welled up, blurring your vision as a wave of helplessness washed over you.

As your gaze meets his with glassy, doe-like eyes, Coriolanus can't help but be overcome with a sense of remorse. His hold gently eases, his fingers transitioning from your chin to delicately trace the pad of his thumb along your cheekbone.

"Are you gonna be a good girl and stay, hm?" His voice was softer now. You swallow hard and you find yourself nodding, silently surrendering to the intricate web of control that Coriolanus deftly wove around you.

Coriolanus tenderly brushes away a stray tear that had dared to escape, his touch as soft as a fleeting whisper. Leaning in, he draws closer to your face, placing a gentle kiss on your cheek. The warmth of the kiss lingers for a brief moment, a delicate embrace, before he gently withdraws. "Now, go get ready," he says, his back turned to you as he pours himself another glass as you wordlessly leave.

[001x456]

any 457 fic recs?

In-ho x Gi-hun fic recs

credits to the respective authors! ♡

*some of them are wholesome fluff, but some may contain topics that can be triggering, taboo and considered “dark theme” in nature; so after tapping the links, make sure you read the tags first (actually, since I'm a sucker for whump, spicy and fucked up stuff, most of them are 'dead dove do not eat', so be warned)

Overthrown

Seong Gi-hun isn't the only enemy the Front Man has. It takes him too long to realize that.  Or, Front Man's right hand man, the Officer, with the help of the Soldiers, plans to take him down. And In-ho has been too blind to see the betrayal coming.  (Ironic enough, it turns out the one who's too trusting isn't Gi-hun.)

Obedience and Oblivion (NSFW)

Dragged back into the shadows of the games, Gi-hun finds himself bound not just by chains but by the quiet, unnerving pull of the man who holds him captive. The Front Man offers him comfort wrapped in control, tenderness laced with possession. As lines blur between survival and submission, freedom and desire, Gi-hun must decide: will he rise above, or let himself fall deeper into the arms of the enemy?

and I found love where it wasn't supposed to be, right in front of me

"Young-il was a good person. He was my friend. And you killed him because all he wanted was to save his family."

"Gi-hun —" In-ho quickly stopped and shut his mouth when he realized he was letting it slip. He's Player 456 to you now, and you're not Young-il anymore, warned the voices in his head.

You're the Front Man and he's Player 456. Young-il and Gi-hun are no more. And that ache, the sudden surge of pain in In-ho's chest, In-ho could never seem to understand.

all I worship and adore (NSFW)

After the tenth year anniversary of his wife's death, In-ho decided it was time for him to feel something else that wasn't grief. He found himself in a shady brothel with a companion of an overly friendly, overly awkward sex worker named Seong Gi-hun. (It's fine, right? It's merely physical pleasure and nothing more. This does not mean you're betraying her, it does not mean you're moving on, or so In-ho told himself.)

loving you is a losing game

Gasping and gurgling and choking on his own blood, In-ho's eyes remain fixated on Gi-hun and Jun-ho.

Mister Right

“Hwang Inho,” His assailant introduced stiffly and rattled off a lengthy sequence of numbers. “Eh?” They’d given Gihun something for the pain and it was making him a little dizzy. “My name and badge number,” The man said, his jaw clenched tight as he advised, “you should lodge a formal complaint to the Seoul Metropolitan Police Agency when you are able to walk, sir.” “Oh…ok.” “Did you remember what I just said?” Gihun’s head lolled. He blinked groggily at the figure dressed in all black. “Are you my nurse? This needle in my arm hurts. Could you blow on it?” The man didn’t move. “Please?” He whined, blinking back tears.

One Way Ticket (NSFW)

Gi-hun arrives in a foreign land brimming with hope and dreams of starting a new life with the woman he’s convinced is his soulmate. But when things start to unravel, and the truth of his situation becomes painfully clear, he finds himself at the mercy of a stranger—Hwang In-ho, a man who sees opportunity in Gi-hun’s desperation.

Final Game

In which In-ho tries running away from his own self, his guilt, doubt and feelings. (Gi-hun is handcuffed to a bed, yet In-ho finds himself the one in chains, unable to run away.)

Material Girl

“I’m not a prostitute,” The man sitting in the small plastic chair opposite Junho’s work desk repeated. Junho glanced up from the arrest form he was filling out on his computer and studied him. Seong Gihun, age forty-three, resident of Ssangmun-dong. The system showed his only living relative to be his elderly mother. There were numerous citations on file for money issues mostly, but no prostitution. Oh, and today was his birthday. “Officer,” the man said, wringing his hands like an old woman and rocking in his seat, “I swear.” Junho took his fingers off the keyboard and crossed them over his desk. “Ajusshi, I have you on video without your pants in a popular love hotel.”

dead (for a little while) (NSFW)

Gi-hun loses the next game.

Strangely, they don't kill him.

like a good, good dog (NSFW)

"Come on," Thanos — Player 230 — said, "I see the way you look at him and the way he looks at you. A blind person could see you've been yearning for each other. Don't look at me like that, I'm just doing you both a favor here."

"What did you just say?" Gi-hun asked.

"You heard me. Fuck 001. Or die."

In a Truth or Dare game, Gi-hun landed himself with the most absurd dare. In-ho realized the price of his undercover mission may be higher than he thought when he was getting fucked at his own game. Figuratively and literally.

Alternative Universe where no one gets hurt.

Forgotten Vows (NSFW)

Gi-Hun wakes up with a wedding ring on his finger.

Dirty Business (NSFW)

Gi-hun sucks In-ho’s dick while he watches the chaos unfold.

Facilitated Karma

VIPs kind of get whatever they want, here- so when one of them orders to have Gi-hun for a night, In-ho has to comply.

Gi-hun doesn't get the memo.

All Your Pieces (NSFW)

After the failed rebellion, he dissociates on the Frontman's floor.

pick up your stitches (better than your riches) (NSFW)

Gi-hun just looks at him in silence for a moment, studying his frame intently. “How do you live with yourself?"

“I don’t know.”

When he leans in, it’s slow and deliberate. It’s like he’s showing his hands. Begging Gi-hun to squint and pretend they’re clean.

“You can tell me no,” he reminds him. Miraculously, Gi-hun just nods.

Or: Gi-hun and the Frontman meet after the games are through.

wrap my name across your mouth when i let my feelings down (NSFW)

“You haven’t eaten all day,” In-ho reminds him, a note of desperation in his voice. “Let me feed you, Gi-hun.”

Gi-hun’s eyes are unfocused and bloodshot, he notices. There are dark circles underneath them. In-ho chastises himself for not considering the fact that his companion might be sleep deprived.

“Uh, yeah,” Gi-hun awkwardly rubs at his neck with his right hand. “I could eat.”

in the flow of things

“That’s my fish,” Inho snaps, taking a step closer. His voice echoes through the narrow space, sharp with rage. The man chuckles softly. “I mean… define 'your' fish.” Inho blinks, momentarily stunned by the audacity. “Are you serious? You stole it. You've been stealing my fish.” “Borrowing,” the man corrects, raising his finger. “Relocating is the better word, actually. You keep buying more anyway, so I figured-” “Relocating? Are you serious right now?” Inho's voice rises, disbelief flooding his system. He stalks closer, fists clenched. “You’ve been breaking into my apartment and stealing my fish like it’s some kind of hobby?”

or Five times Inho came home to an empty fishbowl, and the one time he finally caught the culprit.

let's drift away in fits of pleasure (NSFW)

Fronting a secret killing game while also taking place in said game was difficult as expected, but the most unexpected inconvenience was that of sneaking out every night to return to In-ho's office. He resorted to excusing himself to the bathroom for long hours during lights out and hoping the others didn’t bother to ask in the haze of their exhaustion.

It was Gi-hun that pushed the boundaries, as he should have learned to expect these days.

Nightmares

Chapter 1: Gihun gets a nightmare and I Inho takes care of him Chapter 2: Inho gets a nightmare and trys to hide it from Gihun because he thinks he deserves to get them

TO YOUR SWEET NOTHING

"You’re up early,” came the dry, familiar voice of In-ho beside Gi-hun. “Early?” Gi-hun snorted, glancing at the clock on the bedside table. “It’s almost nine. You call that early?” In-ho grunted, shifting slightly but making no move to get up. “It is when you’ve spent years sleeping with one eye open,” he murmured, his voice muffled by the pillow.

Or, a soft lazy morning between Inho and Gihun

Would You Still Love Me?

In-ho turned back to his microscope, clearly done with the conversation, but his lips twitched into a smile. “Speaking of worms…” “Oh, please no,” Gi-hun groaned. Nothing sane or understandable ever followed that phrase. “Would you still love me if I were a worm?” “Why are you even asking this?” Gi-hun demanded. “Do you plan on turning into a worm?” His eyes widened in mock horror. “Oh my god, did you sign up for some kind of freaky experiment?”

Or, "Would you still love me if I was a worm?" fic featuring Gi-hun and In-ho!