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reiderwriter · 26 days

Text

Flirting with the FBI

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Reader

Word count: 7.1k

Request: Hiiii!! This is my first time requesting anything on this app, but Spencer reid has me in a chokehold. So, I was thinking that the reader is the unsub, and she's like this very good hacker who keeps teasing the fbi cause she's bored or something so she keeps sending hints about who she is or where she is but they keep getting nothing on her. And all of this just keeps getting on Spencer's nerves. And so when Spencer finds her, she keeps teasing him and acting like a brat so he "disciplines" her and takes her roughly and maybe a bit of spanking???

Warnings: a lot tbh - mentions of case details, mentions of domestic violence and police brutality, reader is a possible target of a serial killer, bad tech skills from the writer who really couldn't be bothered to do anymore research than the actual CM writing team, rough Dom Spencer, brat reader, sexual innuendo, semi-public sexual play, spanking, dirty talk (good girl, brat etc.) fingering, raw sex/creampie, aftercare, slight dacryphilia (crying kink) and bimbofication.

A/N: My last fic was a heartwarming family fic, and now I'm back to being depraved. Apologies to anyone here for cute fluff 😭

Masterlist

You always thought hacking the FBI mainframe would be hard, but it's one of the easiest things you've done all week.

If they were going to sit around doing nothing while a serial killer ran around in their own backyard, then obviously, they needed a helping hand. Or a helping poem or two.

Getting into their security camera feed was just an added bonus.

You grabbed your bowl of popcorn and settled into your desk chair, clicking open the window to find which room exactly they would gather in to freak out together.

You made sure to get their attention, blacking out all the computers in the office as they ran to a backroom where a very distraught looking blonde woman was sat. She was evidently the go-to tech support of about six agents who quickly ran to her room to figure out what the issue was. It was show time.

“There once was a serial killer,

Who ate boys and girl both for his dinner,

He cut, diced and slashed,

Left the feds quite abashed,

So I leave this message to be clearer”

The poem scrolled onto their screen on a loop, flashing in and out quickly before you let the computer systems relax again.

You thought they'd panic, scramble for a pen or paper or something, but none of the agents moved until the flashing was over.

You watched curiously as an older man took charge of the scene, likely directing the woman at the desk to figure out who you were, where you lived, and what your social security number was. She got to work quickly, and he moved on to the other agents.

None of them had written the poem down. None had even taken a picture, but one man started talking, and for a while, all eyes and attention in the room were focused solely on him. His hands moved as his mouth did, as if he were casting a spell over the room as he spoke. Even more intriguing was the fact that he rarely seemed to make eye contact with any of them as he spoke. He wasn't conversing or giving directions. He was simply talking.

And you really wanted to listen in.

The younger man began to walk and you watched him quickly pace over to a whiteboard, switching from one feed to another as he made his way there, and pick up a pen before notating the poem perfectly.

Whoever this man was, he was making you feel more and more excited about the game of cat and mouse you had begun with the FBI. You weren't entirely sure if he was to be the cat or the mouse, though.

A few days later, they'd seemingly lost the motivation to work, so you again did their job for them.

With another accompanying limerick to help them along, of course.

“There once was a bullpen full of agents,

Who thought they were very surveillant,

But a simply code crack,

And there system did hack,

A young girl who lived quite adjacent.”

This time, you let the words linger on the screen longer, as you slipped your information into their files, leaving more bread crumbs they could follow to the real villain.

The Agent - Doctor, you had since learned - took up his pen once again and scribbled your first poem next to your most recent.

Doctor Spencer Reid. An IQ of 187, three PhDs and however many Bachelor's Degrees, a member of the Behavioural Analysis Unit, and, as you could somehow tell from the grainy security footage, incredibly attractive man.

He was calm, again talking with his hands as he notated, again drawing the rooms attention like he was the sun and everything needed to orbit him to sustain life. You wondered what it would be like to fluster him.

Typing something out quickly, you broke back into the FBI system. It was risky doing it again so soon again, knowing that their tech analyst was already actively hunting you down, cyber-wise. But you couldn't resist.

“The tall, dark and handsome employee,

How I do wish that he could enjoy me,

I would gladly submit,

we match wit for wit,

But he's trying his best to arrest me.”

The BAU team stood silent on the camera before the two women on the team burst into rambunctious laughter. The camera feed was archaic, black and white, and grainy to boot, but even you couldn't miss the red stain against Doctor Spencer Reid's cheeks. A bonus was the other gentlemen subtly posturing, trying to figure out exactly which of them was “tall, dark, and handsome.”

The payoff for that poem was so great that over the course of the next few days, you kept serenading him with love poems among your quick hints about the actual crime being committed.

You'd first suspected the man of being dangerous when you'd seen the state of his wife. 19 domestic disturbance calls in two months, 0 arrests, and 1 very cushy job as a police detective. You'd done some simple computer programming for your local precinct, inputting data from cases into an algorithm that helped track everything easier, so you'd been intimate with cases that he'd handled.

A pattern had emerged, a series of murders of “undesirables,” people the city didn't care about when alive and certainly didn't have the resources to allocate to after their deaths. Prostitutes, the homeless, and runaway foster kids. All missing or dead, all cases handled by the same officer. The officer that lived next door to you and was one beer away from beating his wife into submission 5 days a week.

After your third 911 call, you'd been notified of your contract termination with the precinct. After the tenth, you noticed parole cars driving by every hour.

By call number 19, you were sure it was a miracle he hadn't tried to have you arrested.

So you turned back to the FBI to see what they could do about a man who treated his wife, and basically everyone else, like scum of the earth.

“Please don't get sidetracked by my hacking,

I'm a good girl, your team I am backing,

the killer, you see,

Is right now hunting me,

You're the ones who can do better tracking.”

You watched the tension snap back into place in the office as, for the first time, Spencer Reid was silent at your message. They all got back to work quickly, going over the files you'd dropped in their servers.

That night, Spencer Reid stayed in the office late, reading through piles and piles of files and looking for the connection he needed. You watched in pity, feeling almost guilty that you'd placed this burden on him instead of just approaching them honestly. But you'd called the police before, and it hadn't worked, so getting attention anyway you could was the only way to go.

You watched for so long that you began noticing his small habits. Each time you sensed frustration, he would run a hand through his hair and tug it slightly. When he found something, he leaned in closer to the page, as if his proximity to the words would make them clearer. Finally, he stood and began clearing his files. But you weren't quite ready to sign off yet, the shouting already beginning in the apartment next to yours, so you quickly typed out the first thing that came to mind to get him to stay.

“There once was a doctor called Reid,

Who I simply and truly just need,

I would lie on my back,

And then let him attack,

Any inch of my body with his seed.”

He fumbled the files in his haste to remove your words from his screen, from every screen now in the building, face awash with embarrassment as he looked around for some sign that no one witnessed your words.

Luck was not to be had as the tech analyst - Penelope Garcia - came shooting out of her office to join him in the near empty bullpen, and the older team leader - Aaron Hotchner - also looked out over the bannister from his office as they bore witness to your seduction.

You were driving Spencer Reid crazy.

He'd spent the last two weeks tracking down a serial killer who may or may not exist based on the word of a set of limericks delivered to the BAU through illegal means that had begun unabashedly flirting with him.

This latest limerick was his last straw.

“The cameras are how I can see you,

I do find myself enjoying the view,

His hair is so fine,

I wish he was mine,

The agent with more PhDs than two.”

“Another score, pretty boy, it was about time someone noticed your good looks instead of your brain for once.” Morgan patted him on the shoulder, barely containing his glee and laughter.

“She's watching us through security feed, and that's all you have to say?” he grumbled, writing out this limerick again, the words to the others burned into his brain. “She's playing with me.”

“It sure sounds like she'd enjoy doing just that,” Emily laughed from her desk, “but I think she might be right, Spencer. Every case file she's given us has suspicious activity on it. They're all unsolved, but the victims aren't linked.”

“He's crossing race and gender boundaries, but he's hitting undesirables.”

They had a case because of you. It didn't mean he wouldn't enjoy handcuffing you and putting you in a cell once this was all finished.

“WE'VE GOT ANOTHER ONE,” Penelope shouted from her office, to no avail. If it was at one computer, it was on all of them.

“The agents grew closer by day,

As the killer wanted to escape,

He paced across the floor,

As I watched by his door,

Getting closer than the agents could say.”

He paused then for a second, thinking through each of the limericks in turn and the panic began.

“Closer than… Emily, the officer that took in all of the cases, what was his name?”

“Officer Falstaff, why?”

“I think he might be our killer. And I think he knows she's on to him, or if he doesn't, he will soon.” He stood suddenly, grabbing a file and sprinting to Penelope’s office, Emily and Morgan trailing close behind.

“Spencer, wait-”

“No time. If we want them both alive, we have to move now.”

Throwing the door to Penelope’s room open, he didn't even bother with niceties.

“Can you get her a message?” He demanded, panting from the short run.

“A wha-? Spencer, what are you talking about?”

“Can you send the hacker a message? Or leave her one so she can find it when she comes?”

Penelope swivelled around in her chair once again, doing who-knows-what to answer his question.

“There's no telling what she actually sees in our servers, Spencer, we didn't see any breach in classified files, the only thing she's done is read your personal file and drop us hints.”

His hands closed into fists as he nodded along. “So no?”

“No, Spencer, I'm sorry. Why? Are you starting to grow fond of our little helper.”

“She's not our little helper. She's a criminal. And she'll be dead soon if I don't confirm with her that we have the right guy - excuse me.”

The anger was washing over him now, as he left the room to get some air, getting only as far as the corridor before slamming an open palm into the wall and resting his forehead against it for a moment, just thinking.

The stress of the case was almost too much for him as he turned around and rested his back against the wall, sliding down it until he was sat on the floor. He may have despised you at that moment, but he didn't want you to get yourself killed.

Something nagged him, still, some stress or anger that hadn't yet surfaced, or some case fact he was missing. A glint at the corner of his eye had him looking up to the camera currently trained directly on him.

Computers are useless, he thought to himself, when you can send a letter.

The next time you sat down at your desk, you weren't exactly shocked to see an up close and personal shot of Aaron Hotchner - they'd turned your security stream into a one way facetime and you were sat directly opposite the big boss himself in an interrogation room.

“Checkmate, I guess,” you said, waiting for the man to move.

A signal from behind the camera let him know you were online and watching. He picked up a pen and paper and scribbled down something before holding the note out to you once more.

The name and location of the bastard next door. They'd done it, and now you simply had to drop your evidence, shut down your computer, and wait for the sirens to sound.

You felt slightly sad typing out your last message, knowing that you had no more reason to stay in touch with the team now. Still, you were only human and couldn't resist the chance to say something more.

“Aaron Hotchner and his clever team,

Working with you has been like a dream,

When Reid comes it is wet,

And my mind is all set,

Oh, I do wish that he'd make me cream.”

The camera turned seconds after your message was sent, and there he was, reading intently, frow creased in annoyance as he tried to remain calm. He, too, picked up a pen and paper.

“I have questions,” the paper said when he turned it around. Holding it up for a few seconds before returning his pen to paper. You typed out a message before he could finish dictating his, though.

“When you find me there's lots for me to say,

I can't help simply feeling this way,

Your profile I read,

Can't believe you're a Fed,

I yearn for you all night and day.”

Somehow, the lines between his brow deepened as he quickly scribbled out another message. This one wasn't a question, though. It was simply two words.

He'd written your name on that paper. He'd found you.

You weren't sure if the tingle that ran up your spine was fear or anticipation. One one hand, you'd likely committed multiple felonies in the pursuit of justice, and the SWAT team about to pick up the killer was going to knock for you, too. On the other hand, it was pretty much a given that you would be seeing Spencer Reid in person in the next few hours.

“The Doctor had finally cracked it,

The only identity that could fit,

The pretty young thing,

Who'd been flirting with him,

And was thinking of sitting on his…”

You sent a second message along with the first.

“I couldn't make this one rhyme, Doc. Come and get me.”

The sound of the FBI outside your neighbour's door had you stepping away from the computer finally. It was time to get ready to see him. You stepped out of your robe and into the shower as you waited to be collected and hauled into a police vehicle.

xxx

So far, you were a bit disappointed by the look of the BAU offices. It was smaller than it appeared on the CCTV, and you hadn't exactly given the tour. Unless the whole tour was the wall from the elevators, through the bullpen and straight to interrogation room one. You were also slightly embarrassed that you had yet to be greeted by any of your favourite characters yet. The lead swat officer had led you in some desk agents dropping by to have you fill out some simple documents - waiving your rights and all that. You'd seen not even a single member of the BAU since dropping in two hours ago, but you felt his eyes on you.

You faced the mirror, trying your best to stare straight through it and into the man beyond.

Spencer Reid was there. He had to be. He was too curious to be anywhere else. You smiled at him through the mirror and waited.

You were right, of course. Spencer stood on the opposite side of the one-way window and watched you look for him in every inch of the glass. He watched you squirm when you couldn't find anything, watched you pick at your nails as he made you wait.

He watched you cross and uncross your legs, the short skirt you'd slipped into just before you left providing just enough mystery to catch his eye and his breath.

He was annoyed, frustrated, a little bit impressed, anxious, and - to his peril - turned on.

“Spencer,” Hotch said, breaking the man's concentration. “We can't keep her that much longer. Go in and say something, or I'll cut her loose.”

Reluctantly, he pulled his eyes away and stepped out of the waiting room before letting himself into yours.

“Miss Y/N, my name is Doctor Spencer Reid, I'm a profiler working with the Behavioural An-”

“You're joking, right?” You asked, eyes lighting up, spine straightening as you looked up at the man. “I know who you are, Doc.”

“Please call me Doctor Reid,” he asked, setting down a file on the table and looking over the desk at you.

“Oh, I don't even get your first name.” You lifted your leg and ran it along the side of his until he moved his chair back, just out of reach. You pouted as he began reading through documents, asking you to confirm exactly which technical breaches you were responsible for.

“And the breach at 1:27pm on Thursday 5th-”

“Yes, that was me, too. They were all me, Doc, is that all? Are we finished now?”

“I don't know, are we finished? Can I leave?”

“No,” you shouted, just as he stood up to gather his things. “No, don't go. I want to talk to you.”

He sat back down, finally looking at you instead of words on a page.

“Do you enjoy attention, Miss Y/N?” He asked, voice cold but gaze burning like fire into your skin.

“As much as anyone does.”

“Do you enjoy my attention?” The words hung between you for a few minutes as you watched him carefully, searching for the right answer.

“What do you think, Doc?”

“Doctor Spencer Reid,” he repeated reflexively.

“I know your name,” you smiled, and he finally looked away, breaking contact to regroup for a second.

“We have reason to believe you used your backdoor into our system to access my personal file, is that correct?” It may have been asked as a question, but Spencer Reid already knew the answer.

“Yes, I did.”

“Why?”

You laughed at the simple question, sure that your behaviour until this point was evidence enough to answer it.

“Why? Because you're attractive and your smart and-”

“Why haven't you used the content of the files as leverage? I've been digging at you for the last half hour, and you have plenty of ammunition to throw back at me, yet you haven't. Why?”

For the first time in a while, you were speechless.

“Oh. Wow. Should I have said something? Would you have felt more comfortable if I were a horrible person using your background to make you feel vulnerable?”

“Why, Y/N?”

You sighed and looked back up at him.

“I'm interested in you. That's it. Honestly, there is nothing in your file more interesting than how you look running your hands through your hair.”

His jaw clenched and unclenched before he let out a sigh.

“So you're a compulsive liar.” He said it so finitely it was like a kick in the teeth.

“Or maybe you're just insecure. I can help with that.”

He shot you another warning look as a grin spread over your lips. Yes, it was very fun to mess with Spencer Reid.

“FBI Agents aren't allowed to sleep with suspects.”

“You want to sleep with me?”

His eyes went wide as he realized his mistake, mouth opening and closing as he tossed another annoyed look in your direction.

The door to the interrogation room opened, and Reid quickly bolted out of his seat as Aaron Hotchner entered. The two men shared a nod before the younger man left the room entirely.

“Such a shame, I thought we were really getting somewhere.”

To your surprise, Hotchner’s lips curled up in a laugh as he sat down, straightening his suit.

“Miss Y/N, we've reviewed the information you've given us and taken into account your motives, and the FBI has decided not to prosecute you for your actions.”

You sat for a minute, Hotch doing the same, the both of you caught waiting for each other to say something or continue.

“But?” You prodded, knowing there was more left to say.

“But, we'd ask for your cooperation on cases in the future that require technological man-power. In a consultancy role, of course. You wouldn't be given a badge or a gun or any clearance, and you'd need to be with an agent at all times.”

You tapped your fingers against the desk, trying to figure out if this deal was beneficial or not.

“I'll do it if I can pick the Agent.”

Now, the man was fully smiling at you or giving you what you assumed passed for a smile in his books.

“We had recommended Doctor Reid for the role. Of course, if you're more comfortable with another agent, you can-”

“Doctor Reid is perfect, thank you.”

The man nodded and stood, and you stood with him as he led you quietly out of the room.

A flustered Spencer Reid exited the adjoining room, hurrying to catch Hotch before he really signed his life away to you.

“Hotch, what is this?” He demanded, stopping the man in his tracks. They both paused, turning around and moved a few feet awaywfrom.you whispering out their argument.

You couldn't catch most of it, but you did happen to catch the phrases “man-eater,” “I'm not good with people,” and “Spencer, this will be good for you.” Victory in the end went to Hotch, who promptly turned on his heel and kept walking down the hall.

“I work here now,” you said, grinning up at Spencer.

“No, you don't.”

“According to your boss, I do. And you're my babysitter.”

“You're a criminal. You hacked into the FBI database to leave ominous clues to multiple murders.”

“If you call those ominous clues, I'm curious how people usually flirt with you.”

“They don't. Why…why are we having this conversation?”

He stormed off ahead of you, and you quickened your pace to catch up to him, following him down a familiar hallway to what was obviously tech central at the BAU.

“Spencer, seriously? You're walking around looking like that, and no one hits on you?”

He stopped abruptly, and you ran into his back before he turned around to scowl at you again.

“Can we keep this serious, please?”

“I'm very serious about flirting with you, and I'm stumped why more people aren't.”

“Okay, let's go somewhere and talk,” his hand landed on your waist, readying his grip to forcibly move you if need be.

“I thought that's what we were doing.” Instead of allowing him to move you, you leaned into his touch, stepping closer and raising a hand to his chest, as his head dipped to maintain eye contact.

“No, this isn't talking, this is some weird foreplay I've never heard of, and I'd like you to leave my office if you're going to continue,” the woman sat at the desk exclaimed, horror and amusement fighting a battle for her facial expressions. “I like to keep my office a no trauma zone, so please take a walk to the nearest bed or storage closet or car and you can shove your tongues down each other's throats in peace and out of my sight, please and thank you.”

Spencer tried to step away, but a hand on his tie kept him close and kept his eyes on you. You poked your head out around him and smiled at the other woman.

“Sorry to disturb you. I'm Y/N. Based on the tech, I assume we will be working with each other soon.”

“Oh my gosh, you were, like, my number one most hated person last week. Penelope Garcia, tech analyst.”

“I'm sorry about that. If it makes it any better, it was really hard to get past some of your firewalls. And I couldn't even touch the classified files.”

“Apology accepted, on the condition that you lead young Reid out of my office right now before he explodes.”

You grinned and grabbed the man's hand, sending Penelope a quick goodbye as you pulled him out of the room.

He stumbled behind you for a few moments before catching up and pulling you in a different direction, keeping your hands intertwined as he bee-lined for the elevators and pushed the button to go down.

It arrived, and he pulled you in, not releasing your grip until the doors were fully closed and you were alone.

“Getting me all alone, Doc? What do you have in mind?”

“I'm driving you home.”

“My apartment is a crime scene, and I have no family in the city.”

“What about friends?”

“I've been stalked by a homicidal police officer for the last month and barricaded myself into an apartment. Do you think I have friends?”

His gaze was somewhat softer as he looked at you again. You saw the math happening in his head as he tried to figure out what to do with you. You also saw his brain short circuiting when you wrapped yourself around his arm.

“We're friends now, Doc. Isn't that right?”

“What?”

“We're friends,” you repeated again, tone becoming a little defensive in a pout.

“We are not friends, Y/N. We've known each other for less than 6 hours, and we haven't engaged in any friendly conversation.”

“We've known each other for two weeks, and I've been more than friendly enough for the both of us.”

The elevator stopped, and the doors opened. Gesturing for you to go first, Spencer hurried you out of the elevator and into the parking garage.

“Trust me, Spencer, deep down, part of you really wants to be friends with me,” you said poking his chest with a finger. You couldn't resist flattening your hand against his surprisingly hard chest and letting the hand drop slightly.

“And an ever deeper down part of you doesn't want to be friends at all,” you smiled at him.

He caught your wrist before it could reach his belt buckle, your unconscious finish line, spinning you around and dragging you to his car.

The biting cold of metal cutting into your wrists was the first indication that maybe Spencer Reid wasn't as easy to mess with as you'd hoped. He closed the handcuffs around your wrists and handed you into the car as you gaped at him.

“Spencer!”

“Doctor Spencer Reid.”

“I’m not a criminal, Spencer, let me go.”

“I'll let you go when you prove to me you can behave.”

You pouted as he strapped you into the car and closed the door, walking around to the passenger side before letting himself in.

“What's next? Are you going to gag me?” You scoffed as he turned over the engine and began backing out of the parking lot.

“No. I think you'd enjoy that too much.”

The drive to Spencer's apartment was long and quiet as you sat pouting in the passenger seat. Every few seconds, you twisted and moved your arms, fidgeting left and right so he could see how much the restraints bothered you. Luckily, he'd handcuffed your hands in front of your body, so you still sat somewhat comfortably, but you didn't want him to know that.

He pulled up to the building and turned off the engine, pulling out his keys.

“Let's go,” he said, not even sparing you a look as he climbed out.

“Spencer, I'm handcuffed. How do I even get out?”

“You'll figure it out. You're a smart girl, right?”

He closed his door and began walking, and you quickly fumbled your way out.

“Spencer… Spencer, your neighbours are going to ask questions about you bringing a handcuffed girl into your apartment!” You whispered at him as you paced behind him, somehow running to catch up with his mere walk.

“I don't have neighbours like you, Y/N. They won't notice a thing.”

“Right, okay. And when you murder a dozen people over a six month period, they won't hack the federal government.” You rolled your eyes as he unlocked the door, taking your arm and finally handing you into the apartment.

It was dark and cold, and you shivered, feeling his body pushed in right behind yours, closing the door before he felt around for the light switch.

When the lights turned on, you blinked, adjusting to the light again as he walked you further into the apartment, hands on your hips as you slowly stumbled forward.

“Can you take the handcuffs off now?” You asked, looking over your shoulder at him.

“And let you touch my things? No.”

You shook off his hands and walked further into the room.

“You know I can still mess with your stuff with my hands tied up like this,” you said, walking to the nearest bookshelf.

“Whoops, look at that,” you said, pulling a book off the shelf and letting it fall to the floor between you with a thud.

“Y/N!” He exclaimed, voice pitched up in exasperation.

“Oh, this stack of books on the ground looks well organized. Oopsie!” You acted out tripping over the books, sending them flying in different directions.

“One more time, Y/N, mess with my stuff one more time-”

You didn't hear the words as you pulled yet another book off his shelf and let it tumble to the ground.

He was on you in seconds, lifting your wrists and pinning them to the top shelf, pressing his body against yours as he stretched you out.

You gasped at both the sudden contact and the tight grip he now had on your hands.

“Tell me, do you actually want to be in control, or do you just think you should want to be in control?”

“What's the difference?”

“The difference is how much you enjoy it. I think you're only being a brat to get a rise out of me. You're doing this because there's no one else in your life that will give you exactly what you crave."

"And what would that be?"

"Attention," he whispered into your ear, sending a shiver down your spine.

“Great, thanks for the therapy. Are you going to show me how much I can enjoy relinquishing control now?”

“Brat,” he spat at you.

“Fed,” you spat back.

“You have a problem with law enforcement?” He asked, his breath hitting your ear as you tried not to shiver again at his touch.

“My neighbour was a serial killer whose day job was police brutality," you said, as if the answer was obvious, but Spencer still stared, waiting for true confirmation.

“Yes I have a problem with law enforcement. What, are you going to spank me?”

His eyes lit up, and you suddenly wondered if you'd made a mistake.

“You'd like that, wouldn't you?”

“N-No.” You stuttered, but he'd already begun moving you over to his couch.

“It was a joke. Spencer, it was a joke, don't-”

You underestimated his strength as he flipped you around and guided you down over his lap. Keeping your hips raised, he used one hand to hold you down while the other pushed up your tight skirt.

“S-Spencer, I really don't think-”

“Then don't think,” he said, bringing his hand down hard on your ass as you cried out in shock and pain.

“Stop thinking. You think too much, let me do it for you.”

With each hit, your shock grew fuzzy, melting into pleasure as you felt wetness pooling between your thighs.

The doctor you thought would be an easy target was not sadistically returning every teasing word back to you with his hands, letting bruises blossom all over your ass as he delivered painfully arousing strikes.

His hand stopped and he rubbed your ass as you twitched at the gentleness, panties sticking to the folds of your cunt as you absent mindedly pushed up into his touch.

“See, now you're listening,” he said, fingers trailing down to touch you over the sopping undergarments.

With two quick fingers, the crotch of your panties peeled away from your skin and he was plunged deep inside you, fingers pressing in as his thumb found its way to your clit.

“Fuck, Spencer-”

“Doctor Reid. You can use my full title now or you don't get to cum.”

“D-Doctor Reid, please!” His thumb rubbed slowly over your clit bit his fingers didn't move as you shuddered and contracted around them.

“Please what?” He asked, voice light as if he wasn't two knuckles deep in you already.

“Please make me cum, Doctor Reid!”

“Good manners,” he said as he finally began pumping his digits in and out of you, spreading your legs wider as you clawed your hands into his couch cushions to ground yourself in the moment. His spare hands left your wrists, and you felt them again, delivering small, almost cute hits to your ass as you twitched around his fingers, shying away from the painful contact.

“That's it, Y/N, let yourself relax,” he whispered, shifting his weight underneath you as you became aware of the tent in his pants.

Your brain was jello as you tried to bounce back on his fingers, chasing your oncoming orgasm.

“Look at you, trying to cum on my hands. You're just an attention-seeking slut, right?”

His fingers continued ppimg as your tongue hung loosely in your mouth.

“Answer me, or I'll leave you here high and dry, Y/N. Tell me you're an attention seeking slut that's been fingering yourself to the thought of this for weeks.”

“I-I'm an a-atten…tion seeking s-slut,” you stifled a moan and bit back tears as he pressed another finger inside of you. “Spencer I can't I need to cum,” you cried, tears spilling down your cheeks pathetically.

“Say it.”

“I'm an attention seeking s-slut that's been th-thinking about this-”

“Fingering yourself,” he corrected.

“Fingering myself to the thought of this for w-weeks,” you cried, sniffing now as your thighs shook in anticipation.

“What a nasty little slut,” he said as you finally came, your cum running down his fingers as he kept his hands moving.

Your tears were falling freely now as you bit back little sobs and chokes of emotions, the pleasure from the orgasm almost too much to handle.

Underneath you, Spencer shifted, freeing himself from his position and laying you fully down on the sofa as your legs still shook.

“There once was a doctor called Reid,” he said, unzipping his pants as he took up his place behind you.

They were your words, and your body signalled warnings everywhere as his hands pulled your hips up once more, pulling your knees up too to bend under you, laying you face down ass up.

“Who I simply and truly just need.”

He pulled the panties down to the crook of your knees before leaning down over you so he could deliver the next few lines as whispers into your ear.

“I would lie on my back, And then let him attack, Any inch of my body with his seed.”

A weak moan escaped your lips as he sank his cock inside of you, lips still pressed against your ears.

“I don't want you on your back, though. I much prefer you like this.”

His cock slid out of you and returned with a speed and strength that had your eyes rolling back in your head.

He was thick, maybe a little longer than average, and he filled you perfectly using your cum as lubricant.

“Such a good listener, now, Y/N. I like you like this,” he said with a moan, thrusting hard and deep inside of you.

You didn't talk. You could only drool and moan into his couch as he emptied your brain one thrust at a time.

You didn't think about how he wasn't wearing a condom. You didn't think about how he'd spat your words back at you, ready to fill you with his seed. You just sat in a pool of your own pleasure and let Spencer Reid use your body as you'd been begging him to for weeks.

He raised your hips and gave one last thrust, stilling there for a second as he filled your empty body and mind with his cum and his entire being.

If you weren't obsessed with Doctor Spencer Reid before this, you certainly were now.

He pulled out of you quickly, wiping his cock on your skirt before hurrying off to the bathroom to clean up.

Your brain was still absent when he returned, cleaning you off and finally removing the handcuffs. He removed your clothes, replacing them with his spares as he threw the soiled ones into the wash.

When you regained your wits or what was left of them, you were laid out in his bed, wrapped in a blanket and stuffed into a sweater and sweats, fully covered from head to toe. Spencer was picking up his keys and trying his shoelaces.

“Where are you going?’ You asked sleepily, stumbling to the doorway. Your legs were still shaky, and your movement was already limited. You knew that tomorrow, the use of your limbs would be nonexistent.

“Back to the office. Now that you're not around, maybe I'll be able to get some actual work done.”

“Spencer,” you said, forcing him to turn around to look back at you.

Before he could say anything else, you pressed your lips to his, hot and needy, wrapping your arms around his neck as he kissed back, slipping his tongue into your mouth and pressed you into the wall next to the door.

When you both pulled away for breath, you detangled your limbs, smoothing out his shirt and readjusting his tie.

He looked down at you, waiting for you to say something else as you met his gaze, grinning at him.

“I look forward to working with you, Doctor Reid.”

#spencer reid #criminal minds #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid smut #mgg #criminal minds fanfiction #criminal minds fandom #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid criminal minds #dr spencer reid #spencer reid x reader smut #spencer reid x you #spencer reid x y/n

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aphroditesmoon · 5 months

Text

wish you'd ask me

clarisse la rue x fem!demigod!reader

summary: you're not good at reading subtle hints, clarisse realises that maybe she should've been more upfront with her feelings for you.

warnings: fluff, oblivious!reader, clarisse is down bad, reader is very neurodivergent coded, kissing, flirting, title n fic inspired by 'Wish You'd Ask Me' by Matt Maltese.

A/N: thank you for 1.9k followers!! I love you all dearly, my ask box and dms r always open, im glad that my writing is being enjoyed by so many people<3

wc: 4.5k

You have been in camp half blood for more than 4 years. You have made yourself at home for the last several years.

It was easy to view yourself as lesser or inadequate in comparison to other mortals during your days in the real world before you were sent to camp. The world has never failed to remind you of how different you were. Always too much or not good enough, always special and never normal

And it wasn't like you were dying for some sort of diagnosis to justify why you are the way you are, but upon discovering that you were actually a demigod, it felt like all the questions you've been harboring to yourself was finally answering themselves.

Everything clicked. Everything made sense, though at the same time, it felt impossible. You were a very confused little girl when you first arrived at camp. A girl who just wanted someone to tell them that it'll all be alright in the end.

And you still remembered the first person to hold you by your shoulders and made you look into their eyes as they told you that it was all going to be okay.

The girl with beautiful long curls and dark piercing eyes. The girl that everyone else, apparently, was afraid of.

But you could never be afraid of Clarisse La Rue.

Not with the way she smiles when every time she sees you, the way she never fails to make you feel included even in activities you're not capable of participating in. Not with the way your whole body electrifies every time your skin touches, when your hands brush against each other.

It didn't matter what anyone think, because no one could change the perception you've built of her. Clarisse La Rue is good. Or at least she is to you.

When you first heard of the rumours surrounding her, you did think better than to force a friendship on her. You strayed away from her and stuck to your cabin siblings and your books, but you noticed daily how she'd still go out of her way to talk to you at least once a day.

It didn't need to be a long conversation, just a passing acknowledgement. An easygoing 'hey, how've you been doing.' Sometimes she'd even go as far as cracking a joke with you.

With how serious her face is whenever she make the jokes, you'd have to think twice as hard and thrice as faster than another person to try and guess if she was being genuine or not so you could fit in a necessary laugh when you needed to.

Even as her anger became more apparent because of the new kid's accidental climb to fame and embarrassing the Ares' cabin, she still found time to make a conversation with you.

It had been long since you tried to ignore or avoid her. You learned that her attention towards you is harmless, and that she seemed much more comfortable telling you certain things compared to others. If she has been viewing you as some sort of safe box, then you don't really mind it. You liked listening to her talk and keeping her heart's intent as your secret.

You too, talking to her. To some people, you are reserved,

and to others, talkative. Either way, people find it easy to discard you at any moment they decide you are irritating.

But Clarisse listens. And she asks questions, she's patient- much patient that anyone could anticipate or guess.

It may be hard for others to believe, but Clarisse is more complex than she seems. She had the capacity to be gentle, and she had the capacity to respect boundaries. The more time you spent with her, the more that side becomes easy for you to access.

Today, however, marks a new record for your friendship with her. A few weeks ago, she had informed you of her newfound interest in the history of folklore monsters. What a coincidence that you were currently self-studying on that specific topic.

She insisted that you hook her in on whatever it is you're learning. She had even gotten you a doughnut to eat together outside the library as you told her of your insights of dragons and their theorized blindness and incapability to differentiate a variety of prey.

The conversation went well, she seemed immensely in awe of your knowledge and had no problem telling you how she felt.

You even gave her some book recommendations, though you knew she wasn't much of a reader.

You felt a shift in your relationship that night and had spent the next three days studying more and more about the topic. And today, you had asked her to spend the evening with you.

You shouldn't feel so nervous asking her to hang out. That is what friends do, after all.

She found you in the library, sitting on the floor in between two large bookshelves. She had been right on time and enthusiastically so. The two of you sat together, hidden by the shelves as some semblance of privacy.

Clarisse looked confused when you had explained that you indeed wanted to spend the rest of the day in the library, but she accompanied you anyways.

You could never get sick of the smell of the books. Old and new, they all have some nostalgic past tied in between the pages, begging to be discovered.

You had your back on the walls with tinted windows above your head as she's seated opposite of you in a criss-crossed position.

Today, the library isn't as packed as usual. There were still people walking in and out and checking out the books on the counter, but not too many that it became obnoxiously loud and annoying.

After finishing another book of Monsters and how to spot them, you're feeling knowledgeable enough to explain the lore of the Giants to Clarisse, she had asked you about this the other day, giants have been long extinct to the point that some might even say they may have never even existed. And so you were interested in sharing with her all of the information you have learned about the majestic species of a beast.

You started with the general information. The basic understanding of what a Giant is the mythhs of Giants and the validity of those sources. Clarisse listened closely in the beginning, never interrupting you unless she had an actual question.

She seemed in awe of the stories you tell her of. You don't blame her, for you yourself have been most interested in the topic of Giants.

You were an hour an a half in when noticed her attention faltering. She leaned against the cases of books, her eyes twitched slightly when you began to explain the different types of giants, and the difference of how they operate.

Her hands are folded together on her lap, and you can feel her listening in on everything you're telling her as she adds in some commentary here and there, but you also felt that she wasn't entirely in on the conversation.

The dim lights of the library made the atmosphere feel warm and secluded, even with its vast space and many other campers hanging around in the other tables and shelves. You made sure to keep your voice low as you spoke in fear of the librarian kicking you out.

You had a good reputation with the library workers, they liked how organized and polite you were.

"A lot of people think their greatest strength is their size, which is valid, they are huge, but their real weapon is their mouth." You told Clarisse, ignoring the litter of books by your left that you had brought over for reference.

"They kiss you to death?" She asks suspiciously. You laughed shortly and shook your head. "No, I mean their breath."

She responds with an 'ohh.'

"They're giants, so their mouth is large too, and you can easily tell what they had for breakfast even from their tall height. Their breaths are also known to be so rancid it could kill you, because they don't exactly eat what we eat."

She raises a brow as she stretches her hands upwards. "Isn't that ogres?"

"It's both." You confirmed.

You were about to continue your explanation but halted by instinct as you notice how her mouth keeps pursing together as if unsatisfied, and she has that look on her face that mimicked a confused expression. You're don't think there's anything to be confused of.

"Are you okay?" You asked her worriedly. Clarisse sits up straighter at the question and waved a hand off to assure you she's fine. "Of course, no yeah- I'm fine."

"You seem bored, you're not really interested in what I'm saying are you?” She opens her mouth to counter your words but hesitates to say anything.

"I- well, I like giants-" She attempts, "-no you don't. "

"No. I don't." She admits with a sigh. "But I thought you said you were interested in these kind of stuff?" You questioned her. "Well, yeah, like the general idea of it. I mean, I don't hate it, and I like hearing you talk about it." She answers with a shrug.

"Then why do you look disappointed? If you didn't want to come, you could've just told me. I wouldn't get mad." You told her honestly. It was conflicting for you to see her so confused on what to say, being so picky with the words she chooses.

You figured she's probably reluctant to hurt your feelings. That is a notion you're used to. You'd rather she tell you the truth to your face than to be catered around like a time ticking bomb that everyone's so afraid might explode at any time.

"When you asked me out yesterday, you told me this would be an 'evening to remember." She tells you with such confidence like it was an explanation to her weird behaviour today.

"You don't think this is an evening to remember?" You sincerely inquire.

"No, I do! I just- well, when you said that I didn't think you'd mean we'd be doing this." Your frown deepens as you try to figure out what she means, eyeing her body language closely. “What do you mean? I told you I wanted to hang out.”

A part of you is offended. She was the one who had said she liked hearing you speak, why would she be disappointed that this was your idea of spending time together?

"I don't know, I thought we'd just be doing...something else?"

It didn't matter what she had really meant with that. You felt completely embarrassed once she finished her sentence. Why was it that everyone else had no problem having long conversations with their friends, but when it came to you, it's all too awkward, unnecessary, and odd?

You liked Clarisse, you considered her your friend. Sometimes you wonder if it could ever be more, but you never entertain those thoughts because you don't want to ruin what the two of you already have.

But moments like these resemble a huge slap in the face by the universe.

You couldn't even be good friends with her, how ridiculous of you to think that there could ever be something more.

"Okay, um, maybe we should just go back to our cabin." You decided whilst standing up and picking up the stack of books you're currently borrowing from the library, ready to leave the place without waiting for her.

"Hey, wait." She called out as you walked past her. You spared her a glance, trying your best not to show how upset you are. “We're friends." She says it so much like a question that you weren't sure if she's even sure of the fact herself until she continued speaking. "I like hanging out with you."

Another thing that you weren't sure if she really meant. "Sure." You replied thinking it's the most suitable response.

Before she could say anything else, you turned around and started picking up your pace until you disappeared out of her sight.

—

You have been consistently ignoring Clarisse. Which proved to be harder than expected.

When you pass by her camp or the training ground, you make a mental note to always look down or to your front as to never accidentally cross eyes with her.

And everytime you hear her call out your name, you keep walking like you didn't even hear her, knowing that she wouldn't be bold enough to call for you again. After all, she still had a reputation to uphold.

If ignoring her wasn't hard enough, having to deal with how you felt for her is worse.

You've been avoiding confrontation with yourself for weeks even before you decided to go no contact with her.

And so far, you thought you've been handling it pretty well. Except for days where you don't see her where she's expected to be. You tell yourself that you don't care as you make your way to training in the day and reading in the evening, and yet you still go back on your own words when you asked a passerby Ares kid on where his cabin leader was.

"She's dunking some kid's head into a toilet bowl." Of course she was.

You thanked the dude and went back on your way to your cabin. It's close to dusk, the sky is turning orange and the sun is dipping itself below the earth. You take your time returning to your cabin as you enjoy the way the sun slowly removes itself from anyone's viewing.

You wondered to yourself if things like these are what makes you weird or off-putting to some people.

Was enjoying nature and having niche interests only cute when it's done by girls pretty enough to be cool or if it's only in romance movies or books.

You don't find yourself weird, in fact you think all of your hobbies are pretty common and usual, and yet the way Clarisse had spoken to you at the library last week had made you feel unnatural.

You had wanted to do normal people things with her, but maybe your perception of normal is different to her.

Either way, you are pretty hurt with how she reacted. You loved her still, of course. It's kind of hard to unlike the girl you've been obsessed with since you were 15.

Once you finally reach your cabin, you quickly put down all of your books and your tiny sling back by the side before making it to the shower to refresh yourself before dinner.

You thought it hilarious of how hard you're trying not to care about Clarisse, and yet as you're cleaning yourself up, changing your clothes and attempting to read at least 15 pages of your World's Most Dangerous Beasts book, you could only think of her.

What would it take for her to think that you're cool, what kind of things did she want to do instead of listening to you yap around for 2 hours on what is an equivalent of a boring dinosaur facts, not that you really think dinosaurs are boring.

During dinner, you kept to siblings and had to make yourself finish your plate as your anxiety wrecking thoughts have a way of deriving you of an appetite. You also had to convince yourself to not search for her at the other tables which took more strength than one would expect.

But you succeeded, and you were now sure that the only obstacle left for the day was to try and fall asleep without the thoughts of her keeping you up.

Clarisse is a force, a fierce daughter of Ares, and a cabin leader who had much better things to do then hole up at quiet small places with you.

And just because she was nice enough to mantain a good relationship with you for 4 years, does not mean that you're worth her time. Or at least that's what you tell yourself.

That night, you managed to fall asleep after an hour of recalling Harpy facts in repetition. Counting sheeps had never worked on you, so you had to find something much more active to tire out your brain.

You dreamed of Clarisse with her hair down, holding your hand and pulling you closer so she could slip a flower on your ear.

And just as she's looking down at you, moving closer to do what it seemed like to kiss you, you awoke with a jolt, swearing under your breath as if you'd just gotten jumpscared by a ghost.

Someone's palms moved to shut your lips as you're met with a girl, hovering over you in the dark. Clarisse's dark eyes were recognizable, but it sent a shot of adrenaline through your body still.

"Shh." She whispered to your face, hand still keeping your mouth shut. "I'm going to remove my hands now." She whispered again. You nod in understanding and waited for her to pry her hand away from your face.

"What are you doing here?!" You exclaimed as quiet as possible as she helped you sit up.

"I'm sneaking you out." She answers with a wink. "It's 2 in the morning." You waved your hand around at the darkness and sleeping children. "3 in the morning, and yeah, I know. That's why it's called sneaking around." She corrects you with a grin so devilish that if you hadn't known her for a long time, you'd assume she's about to turn you into a new toilet bowl or dumpster boxing victim.

You sighed loudly and glared at her despite your fast beating heart. Her hand remained on top of yours until the minute becomes more awkward and she removes it as if she just remembered that she's been holding your hand.

Without explanation, she climbed out of your bed and tiptoes to the open cabin door. You're still sitting up and looking at her with conflicted feelings.

Only after she turns back to you, cocking her head towards the entrance, do you give into her request and softly leave the comfort of your bed and trail after her.

"Where are we going?" You asked after her as she kept walking. Instead of responding, she asks you another question back, "Can you swim?"

"We're going swimming?" You watch her shrug in return from behind her and became even more distressed.

"So, is this your idea of having fun and hanging out then?" She laughs drily and slowed down so you could catch up. You walked fast enough until you're beside her and waited for her to talk. "You sound surprised, I would've thought that after 4 years of friendship, you'd know by now that I love doing things that includes active movements."

You did know that, it's a bit hard to not notice how much working out, training and running fuels her even more.

"And why are we doing it in the middle of the night?" The walk towards the lake by the back of the forest was short, considering that your cabin is the closest to the location.

You almost tripped and fell over a stick, but Clarisse was quick to scoop you back up by the back of your shirt. "Thanks." You mumbled to her. "And you haven't answered my question."

Clarisse pulled her shirt over her head and tossed it on the ground without caring of your presence. You, having more moral obligations than her, twisted your face to your left when she began to pull her trousers off. "Too many people in broad daylight." She tells you.

That is a valid reason, this lake is mostly known as a hook up spot, and true to it's cause, many dating campers have been caught together here during dawn or late evenings.

You braved yourself to turn towards her again slowly and realised that she had already hopped into the water. She had a sports bra on and a boxer.

And though you yourself had a tank top and shorts on, you contemplate the idea of suicide as a better choice than having to strip in front of her.

"Are you gonna get in, or are you just gonna gawk at me from there?" You were grateful for the dark being able to hide your flushed face from her, but deep down, you knew that she probably saw it anyways because of the shining bright moonlight.

"I can't swim." You told her.

"That's fine, the water's not very deep." You ransacked your brain for reasons to decline her offer, but at the same time, a small part of you yearned to take this risk that you've been so afraid of for gods knows whatever reason.

Clarisse is there, in the water and under the moonlight. You are only a few steps away from her. And like she said, the water isn't deep, only waist length. She stares back at you with a raised brow like she's challenging you to join her.

"Turn around first." You tell her. She smirked slightly before slowly spinning to the opposite direction. "You know I've seen you naked before right?"

"What?" You choked out, aghast. "Who do you think changed your clothes for you when you first got to camp." Oh, that.

Your shoulder relaxes as you realize she's talking about the first time you met. "That's was a long time ago." You noted. She hummed im agreement. "Yeah, we've both grown since."

You told her she could turn around once you're inside the water. Forgetting about the heighy difference between you two, the water was high enough to reach your chest, trying your best not to trip underwater the way you always do on dry ground, your hand instinctively reached outnfor her shoulder.

Clarisse held your forearm tightly and drew your closer to her until you're inches away from eachother.

You breathed in sharply and felt the need to fill in the awkward silence. "So, you...like swimming, huh?"

"Yes, evidently so." She answered. "Right right, can't sit still and all that." She actually chuckled at your sarcasm, making you proud of yourself.

"You know, even before I came to camp Half Blood, I use to be a pretty active person, running track, volleyball, sometimes swimming." Your eyes widened in curiosity. "Really?" She nodded.

"The counselor told my mom that I just had so many untapped energy, which I guess is a code for anger issues." Her grip on your forearm moves higher until her palm is over your shoulder. "She told her that it'd be best for me to find a...healthy way, to channel that energy, and for my strong competitiveness. So I joined what I could, and that's how I spent most of my free time there. Besides, I never was that good academically. So, I ought to at least be good at something, right?"

"You are good." You blurted out. Your embarrassment faded away when you saw her smile. "You think so?"

"Yeah." You assured her. Her other hand had snaked around your waist without you noticing. Only when you moved slightly do you notice her holding you softly.

"The moon is really nice tonight, isn't it?" You said, trying to diffuse the tension. You pointed your finger up to the sky at the singular white orb.

She glanced up and let out a 'huh.'

"I like it when it's bright and whole like this, the moon in all of its glory. You don't even notice the starts around it when it's glowing like that." You could stare at the moom forever, even longer than the way you've been staring at the sun.

You believed in it the way children do with their birthday candle. To you, the moon has always been a symbol of hope or comfort for your future. Your fascination for it existed from when you were a child, the way it'd follow you from behind as you gazed upon it from the back of the car seat whilst your parent drove down the road.

The way it moved above you as you walked home from school, like one of the gods themselves watching over you.

"Nothing compares to the moon." You announced aloud, watching as the clouds around it began to gather over it. "Yeah, It's beautiful." You hear Clarisse speak.

As your head snapped back to her, you found that she had already been facing you.

"I like the moon...but not as much as I like you." She whispered loud enough for your ears only. Her face leans closer to yours, your noses brushing together. "Not as much as I like to hear your voice, when you tell me about your little harpy facts-"

"Oh, I haven't told you about the harpies yet." You cut her off. "I just finished that chapter this morning actually and-"

"-and, you can tell me about it after I'm done talking." You blushed and became silent, letting her speak.

Clarisse exhaled breathily, fanning your face with the subtle warm air. "I like doing things that friends do with you, but I don't want to be your friend anymore."

"Oh."

"I want to be more than friends." She elaborated.

"Oh." Oh.

You feel a sudden tightness in your chest, from anxiety or from butterflies is undecided. "You want to be best friends?" You joked, laughing nervously.

Clarisse snorted at your joke, but she was still grinning widely. "Best friends, If that's what you want to call it."

There was a moment of understanding shared between a second of shared gazes before her lips attached themselves to yours. An urgency, approval, meaning that can't be described by words.

Whatever gentleness there was inside of her before had vanished. Clarisse kissed you like a starved woman. Her lips craved yours like it'd be the last time she'll ever know how you taste like.

Your hands clasped on her shoulder and neck for support as she embraced you tighter to her body. You let her tongue slip into your mouth, meeting your own.

And as they danced together, inhaling all there is in your lips, every secret and every confession that have died on the tip ofnyour tongues, you are sure that no heaven nor hell could tear you open to see you back together like this.

You push her back abruptly, letting fresh air fill your empty lungs. "What's wrong?" Clarisse inquired worriedly.

"Last week." You sighed out, chest still heaving as your thoughts clicked together. "You thought I had asked you on a date, that's why you were disappointed."

She winced at the reminder, and for the first time in your life, you had been lucky enough to witness a flustered Clarisse.

"I'm right." Her silence confirmed. "Oh Clarisse, why didn't you just ask me?"

Huffing loudly, she rolls her eyes in irritation. "I thought I was obvious enough. "

Thinking back on it all, it did seem pretty obvious, but gods were you oblivious. The way you intepreted it all so wrongly.

"I've liked you for so long too." You admitted to her. Her scowl was gone at that, replaced by a teasing smile. "And what are you gonna do about it?" Her mouth returned to yours, letting go of all your fears and holding on to Clarisse like she's your anchor, you close the gap between your lips, welcoming the kind of pleasure that you've never tasted before.

#clarisse la rue #clarisse la rue x reader #pjo series #pjo x reader #pjo #percy jackon and the olympians #percy jackson and the olympians #percy jackson #dior goodjohn #wlw

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squoxle · 2 months

Note

HIIEUSI WAS WHHEE HI SIS I WAS WONDERING U COULD DO ARCADE FF WITH HEESEUNG ?

Omg girl I haven’t had time to write a damn thing yet and my drafts are piling up. But moots take TOP priority and I try to respond to asks as fast as possible. Anywaysss here you go and I hope u enjoy 🩷

Ride Me ~ L.HS

pairing: Heeseung!bf x Reader!gf| wc: 1k | summary: Things take a steamy turn after your boyfriend shows you his new at-home arcade setup. | cw: 🔞MDNI!! unprotected sex, cumshots, fingering, clit stimulation, pet names [daddy, good girl, baby] <- 100% Heeseung coded [porn with a plot] Enjoy :)

“Well babe, what do you think?” Heeseung asked as he uncovered your eyes revealing the mass gaming setup. “I figured I’d use this more than the theater room,” he ruffled his hands through his hair, anxiously waiting for you to respond.

“It looks great, but I’m gonna miss our little movie nights under the blankets,” you smiled as you walked up to one of the machines.

You clicked a few of the large buttons, anticipating a pixelated image to flash across the screen. “Umm, how do you turn this thing on?” You asked as nothing seemed to work.

Heeseung placed his hand on the edge beside you, trapping you beneath him as he reached down to flick a power switch. You felt his weight slightly press you against the machine as he did this.

“I must’ve forgotten to turn this one on,” he met your eyes through his shaggy hair. Something about that state felt off, but maybe it was just you so you brushed off the feeling and proceeded to look at the other games he had.

A zombie survival simulator that came with 4 guns.

A claw machine filled with plushes.

A retro fighting game.

And a two player motorcycle game.

Eager to try this one out, you climbed onto the bike.

“Of all the stuff you just saw, im surprised this is the one you wanted to play,” Heeseung tilted his head.

“Yeah, well, I like racing games. Stuff like MarioKart, y’know,” Heeseung watched as you struggled to reach the coin slot from your seat. The opening sat just out of your reach.

Your tits pressed up against the leather as your cheek meshed with cold material.

"Let me help you," Heeseung whispered in your ear as he reached over to insert the coin. You felt him pushing himself up against you from behind which sent butterflies through your stomach.

You went to the loading screen and customized your bike, "If you wanna play, there's another bike," you said as you noticed your boyfriend was still straddled on the bike behind you. His hands gripped the back of the seat as he sat there with his legs spread open.

You had a bad habit of staring at the print in his pants, didn't matter if he was hard or soft. You craved to feel him inside of you.

"I know, but I wanna see how you ride," he smirked as he grabbed your hips, quickly jerking your hips backward.

Feeling the heat rush to your face you continued to start up the game. You chose a Tokyo map because of the neon cityscape terrain at night time. Though you tried your best to stay focused you couldn't shake the feeling of Heeseung sitting behind you like this.

"San, ni, ichi...sutato," the automated female voice called out as tri-colored traffic lights flashed across the screen. The aggressive rumble from the bike startled you as it took off.

You felt as Heeseung squeezed your hips again before leaning against you. You nearly crashed as his touch caught you off guard.

"Be careful baby," he said before placing a kiss on your neck.

"I-I'm trying. But you keep distracting me," you stuttered.

"Am I really that distracting," he asked as he slipped his hands around your thighs, squeezing and pulling at the flesh.

"Ngh," you groaned. "Yes, you are."

"Oh, but you like it when I touch you like this. Don't you?" Heeseung grinded his hips against you.

"Mmm," you moaned as you felt his budge pressing into you. "H-heeseung," you said letting out a soft breath.

"Keep driving baby. If you come in first place, I'll give you a little treat," he hummed as he reached his fingers in between your folds. Your growing wetness slowly seeped through the fabric of your panties.

"Ngh!" you huffed as he massaged your clit through your shorts.

He continued to tease you as you struggled to finish the race, barely coming in first after finding a shortcut.

As the gold star shot across the screen, Heeseung hummed a raspy "Good girl," in your ear before helping you out of your shorts.

At this point, you were only wearing your hot pink thong--something you knew Heeseung loved to use. "Show me that pretty little pussy of yours," he bit his lip as you pulled the small fabric to the side, exposing your wet folds.

He smiled as he palmed himself before pulling his veiny cock out only to glide it between your slimy lips and tease your sensitive bead with his tip.

You whimpered as you began pushing yourself against his hard dick, eagerly trying to force it inside.

He halted your movements by gripping the inside of your thighs, spreading your legs more, before telling you to "ride Daddy's dick like the good girl I know you are."

Immediately after he said those words, he shoved his dick deep inside of you, causing you to let out a sharp groan. "Fuck," he winced. "You're still so fucking tight," he said slowly pumping his cock into you. "Ngh," he moaned before leaning forward to kiss your neck as your ragged breathing filled his ear. "You sound so fucking sexy when you're taking my dick like this," he pecked your cheek as you finally adjusted to his length.

You started to grind into your boyfriend, stuffing his cock deeper into you as he held you from your waist. "That's it, baby, just like that," his words encouraged you to pick up the speed as he pulled your lips into his, gripping your throat.

He turned you over and fucked you from the back as your tits pressed up against the leather. You clenched around him as he let out a groan. "Fuck, I'm gonna cum," he gritted through his teeth before 3 long, hard thrusts. You felt his warm seed spill into you and drip out as you came with him. Fortunately, your panties caught the majority of the spill.

Exhausted, you laid across the bike as Heeseung kissed your shoulders.

❀ Thank you all so much for reading! Make sure to check out other works on my masterlist!

❀ 𝚃𝚊𝚐𝚕𝚒𝚜𝚝: @chlorinecake @mimikittysblog @nikisdubblchococake @wonbinisbabygurl @hynjinnn1 @mrswolfhard3 @laylasbunbunny @sussyjake @furious-eagle @cherrriesss @abbyizzy @weyukinluv @addictedtohobi @thatonenoona @wavykook @givemeyourtmihyun @jaeljn @hoonmywk @valennshit @19-yunalyn @hoonbby @frostedblankets @hoonsyo @no-mannerism @perfectxserendipity @chubbibish @ihrtlix @bunniesforsoobin @thereadersparadise @thatbooknerdfr @aiden2001 @belongstoheeseung @jakeybabe @donut-crazs @rizzhee @nikimeows @woonieees @uarmyxtae @rebecca-johnson-28 @they2luv1naia @isa-2007 @silcry @riverscafe @pearlwhitesoul @nikohiroshi @thatbooknerdfr @wonniewonwon @sughoonieeee @babyy-bambii @adrika04 @sehunsharpasseyebrows @wtfyangjungwon @fr-3-akn-4-stymf @rikiloversworld @shawyle @sunoosrightbuttcheek @uarmyxtae @lovesickxmina @urfavberry @urauntiefaye @breadlover01 @taehyunsfavmoa

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scentedpeachlandcreator · 23 days

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Bitch i shifted😭!

So i know i'm late to talk about this but i shifted to a random reality 2 days ago (on monday) and it was really unexpected cause i was affirming these days that "i'm a master shifter and i Always wake up in a random reality when i fall asleep", and for Real it was a parallel reality to this one but with some changes.

The crazy thing is that it felt so Real and i was feeling everything (my hair, my Body, the floor..ect).

So here's the thing, i went studying (it was a tutoring lesson by the way) and it was so normal and everything was you know okay, but the next Time the teacher didn't Come but instead it was that kid who was studying with me at the tutoring lesson (he's a russian by the way), so he started talking russian and i was so fucking confused and i told the other kids "hey are yall understanding what he saying?" And they said "no", so that russian Guy started telling us (in english) that he will tutor us (that weird my Guy 🙄) so we all sat down and i was faced with this blondie Guy so we were having a really fun conversation and he began telling me things about that russian Guy like "you know that Guy isn't an ordinary person but he's a really strong soldier in russia and he's just 18 years old, he's here for a reason and i think he's searching for a girl to marry" i was like speechless cause that Guy was soo fucking HOT! He had icy blue eyes and black hair and a really good body, okay so then my conversation with the blondie ended, then that russian Guy started keeping eyes on me (that was weird 🤨), he approached me and showed me something that was like i think a product i don't know how to describe it but there was a code to it so i was like "oh! I need to write this code to keep it with me" ( i was interested cause i study electricity engineer in high school) and that mf started Panicking! He threaten me not to write it or else he will do something and i told him "well you Can check all my stuff and notebook" he started checking and he found nothing, then he move behind me and leaned in and told me "if i ever see you write that code i will [something i don't remember]" and girl i felt the pain and the force from his hand on my shoulder and i was Like (damn that Guy sure is strong 😳), okay so then i got up and i went Somewhere else and i started writing the code on my arm but then i heard him walking UP to me so i quickly erased the code from my arm and i acted like nothing happened.

But i don't remember how i came back here but here's the interesting thing.

When i woke up here i quickly wrote the code on a piece of paper then after two days and today exactly i decided to search for that code on the internet and bitch look what I FOUND!:

"product details - Industry Mall - siemens russia" bitch what! 😱.

So i clicked on it and it showed me this:

YALL I'M SHOCKED! do yall think the russian Guy panicked because of this? Because he didn't want me to know?.

If you know anything about this or you have any theory or opinions just let me know 🙏🏻😭.

Quick note: the blondie and the russian Guy i don't really know them nor they exist in my current reality and i don't really know their name.

Xoxo,Eli.

#law of assumption #loa #loa tumblr #loa blog #law of manifestation #how to manifest #desired reality #shifting realities #shifting #shifting community #reality shifting #reality shift #loa success #!!! success story

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lyralit · 2 years

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ᴛɪᴘꜱ ꜰᴏʀ ᴡʀɪᴛᴇʀꜱ [ꜰʀᴏᴍ ᴀ ᴡʀɪᴛᴇʀ]

don't let your skill in writing deter you. publishers look for the storyline, not always excellent writing. many of the greatest books came from mediocre writers—and also excellent and terrible ones.

keep writing even when it sucks. you don't know how to write this battle scene yet? skip ahead. write [battle scene here] and continue. in the end, you'll still have a book—and you can fill in the blanks later.

find your motivation. whether it's constantly updating That One Friend or posting your progress, motivation is key.

write everything down. everything. you had the perfect plot appear to you in a dream? scribble down everything you can remember as so as you can. I like to keep cue cards on my nightstand just in case.

play with words. titles, sentences, whatever. a lot of it will probably change either way, so this is the perfect opportunity to try out a new turn of phrase—or move along on one you're not quite sure clicks yet.

explain why, don't tell me. if something is the most beautiful thing a character's ever laid eyes on, describe it—don't just say "it's beautiful".

ask for critique. you will always be partial to your writing. getting others to read it will almost always provide feedback to help you write even better.

stick to the book—until they snap. write a character who is disciplined, courteous, and kind. make every interaction to reinforce the reader's view as such. but when they're left alone, when their closest friend betrays them, when the world falls to their feet...make them finally break.

magic. has. limits. there is no "infinite well" for everyone to draw from, nor "infinite spells" that have been discovered. magic has a price. magic has a limit. it takes a toll on the user—otherwise why can't they simply snap their fingers and make everything go their way?

read, read, read. reading is the source of inspiration.

first drafts suck. and that's putting it gently. ignoring all the typos, unfinished sentences, and blatant breaking of each and every grammar rules, there's still a lot of terrible. the point of drafts is to progress and make it better: it's the sketch beneath an oil painting. it's okay to say it's not great—but that won't mean the ideas and inspiration are not there. first drafts suck, and that's how you get better.

write every day. get into the habit—one sentence more, or one hundred pages, both will train you to improve.

more is the key to improvement. more writing, more reading, more feedback, and you can only get better. writing is a skill, not a talent, and it's something that grows with you.

follow the rules but also scrap them completely. as barbossa wisely says in PotC, "the code is more what you'd call 'guidelines' than actual rules". none of this is by the book, as ironic as that may be.

write for yourself. I cannot stress this enough. if what you do is not something you enjoy, it will only get harder. push yourself, but know your limits. know when you need to take a break, and when you need to try again. write for yourself, and you will put out your best work.

#writing tips #lyralit #writerblr #creative writing #writblr #writing #writers block #writers #writing advice #writing characters #writing motivation #thoughts

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love-belle · 8 months

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i want sweet revenge and i want him again !!!

*ੈ✩‧₊˚ in which their post break-up era is them ignoring their feelings and making the worst decisions.

for when they will always be your summer love. ˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚

social media au // pierre gasly x fem!reader

sequel - you were my summer love ⋆·˚ ༘ *

warnings - language

author's note - posting this at 3am bc i have midterms from monday and it's very unlikely i'll post again this month 💔💔💔💔 i love u all so much thank u for reading <3

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liked by gracieabrams, charles_leclerc, conangray and 789,725 others

yourusername "get him back!" is finally out!!!! i wrote this song in my car after breaking down over the consequences of my own actions and getting yelled at by my twitter girlies <3 summer was fun i had fun we all had fun but the aftermath is not pretty so fuck them boys u all stay happy and thriving hydrated!!!! get ur sweet revenge and get him back!!!!! but fr pls tell his mom her son sucks ❤️

8,628 comments

username there's too much going on idk what to decipher first

username the caption omg 💀💀💀

username her captions never fail to blow me away like girl 90% of these things do not belong here 😭😭😭😭😭

username not her telling us to get our man back but also tell his mom that her son sucks

-> username top tier advice idc

username THE SONG'S A FUCKING BOP OMG

username those lyrics are so her and him coded like 💔💔💔💔💔

charles_leclerc don't call me weird

-> yourusername this is so unprovoked get out

-> username nah what the fuck is charles doing here 😭😭😭😭

-> username CHARLES????

username "bc everyone knew the guy was missing a screw" BABE LET HIM GO!!!!!!!!

username THE TEXT OH MY GOD

username i miss her and that dude ngl

-> username no bc they were so cute together 💔💔💔

-> username why do men ruin everything 😐😐😐😐😐

username "i can fix him" GIRL YOU ARE WORSE THAN HIM

-> yourusername UNCALLED FOR

username i fucking love her and her fans so much like the way we're all js best friends with her and she's sooooo in touch with her fans ❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️

-> yourusername not true u all js bully me

-> username bc u make stupid decisions

-> yourusername ://

username y/n having beef with 80% of her fans will never not be funny to me like wdym ur FANS bully u

-> yourusername i have proof and im not afraid to use it

-> username "proof" and it's literally just her being a dumbass and us having NORMAL reactions to it

-> yourusername FURTHER PROOF UR HONOUR

username so MUCH for summer LOVE and saying US cause u weren't mine to LOSEEEE

username this is sooo 2000s romcom coded idc

landonorris WEIRD??? ME???

-> yourusername GET OUT OF MY COMMENTS SECTION THIS ISN'T ABT Y'ALL

-> username what the fuck is doing on

-> username im so out of loop wtfff

username "i want sweet revenge and i want him again" unhinged behaviour fr

username every time we think she's healing she comes back and writes a song that's basically a BIG cry for help like girl pls we're getting tired 💔

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liked by pierregasly, formulaone44, lec1ercc and 79,728 others

paddock.club rumours have been swirling around pierre gasly and his anonymous girlfriend, who's affectionately called 'augustine' by his fans, and their alleged break-up for weeks now. the said rumours were confirmed as gasly was seen out in monaco and he certainly wasn't alone — or with just one consistent company. "this may confuse some people but they were very different from each other," sources close to the couple claimed. "after summer break ended, it felt like so did whatever they had going on." this comes as a shock as despite knowing almost nothing about augustine, fans adored her and they're devasted about the end of their summer love. click on the link in our bio for everything that we know about their relationship.

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pierregasly you're trippin'

9,638 comments

username NAH THE AUDACITY OF M*N SOMETIMES

username BROTHER IM STILL RECOVERING FROM THE AUGUSTINE REVEAL SLOW DOWN

username HELLO???????? HE'S SEEING SOMEONE???????

-> username "he said i was the only girl but that js wasn't the truth"

username the fact that he used HER lyrics for his caption like..........im SICK rn

username when 😭 i 😭 told 😭 him 😭 how 😭 he 😭 hurt 😭 me 😭 he 😭 told 😭 me 😭 i 😭 was 😭 trippin 😭

username im actually in shock rn like my jaw is on the FLOOR

landonorris caption 😬

username no bc im here thinking like she called his friends weird 😭😭😭😭😭😭😭 that's why charles and lando were so offended in the comments 😭😭😭😭😭😭😭

username boy she's over there listening to summer love by one direction WHAT R U DOING

username that's not y/n in the last slide and im throwing up rn i need them BACK

username need this all to be a nightmare bc i cannot fucking do this anymore 💔💔💔💔

username it's on SIGHT when i see u on streets

username im so 💔💔💔💔💔

username y'all i feel bad for bullying y/n bc if i were her i too wouldn't move on from this man

-> username fr like we gave her sm shit for being in love with him and im like "girlypop same omg"

-> username real like i see what she saw

charles_leclerc nice choice for caption 👍 very strong words 👍

username here for charles and lando calling him out for the caption like yasss kings ❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️ do ur work ❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️

username y/n needs to be more cunty rn bc this is so wtf

username L caption 🤣🤣🤣🤣🫵🫵🫵🫵

username im gonna miss their summer love era so much like we were FED ❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️

username "and when he said something wrong he'd just fly me to france" WOW OKAYYYY

username something about his last post before this being all about augustine and their summer and now this one is basically shading her like 💔💔💔💔💔

username everyday we stray further away from good

username ripping my hair out why cant bitches be happy ffs

#f1 x reader #f1 x female reader #f1 imagines #social media au #fake instagram imagines #pierre gasly blurb #pierre gasly au #pierre gasly imagines #pierre gasly imagine #pierre gasly x reader #pierre gasly x y/n #pierre gasly x you #pierre gasly instagram au #pierre gasly angst #pierre gasly x ex!reader

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sepherinaspoppies · 2 months

Text

Riding the Dragon- Modern! Aemond Targaryen x Reader

summary: after a great dinner with Aemond, he decides to give you a ride on his motorcycle, a Dragon T6.

warnings: 18+, MDNI, public smut, pussy on bike, cum play?, reader getting off on Aemond's bike, some tiddy succin, mentions of p in v sex, I think that it?

wc: 3,064

click here to be added to my general taglist!

dividers by @firefly-graphics

masterlist

click here for a tiktok that gives off aemond in this story lo

notes: this is my first time writing in reader's pov? the whole 'you' kind of perspective. I apologize if it sucks ass, I wanted to try something different. And can y'all believe I wrote majority of this when I was ovulating? HAHA

“I had a really nice time tonight.” The man in front of you says with a content and flirtatious smile on his pretty chiseled face.

Heat coats through your cheeks to the tip of your ears. Definitely not the effect of the two glasses of wine you’d drunk not too long ago. Wine hardly ever did a number on you to slightly fuddle your conscience.

You give him a sheepish grin, scraping the tips of your heels against the pavement, shying away from the intensity that his eye holds. “Same here. I hope we can do this again sometime.”

His face contorts in a way that clearly indicates that the feeling is in fact very, mutual. “Mind if I take down your number?” He asks, pulling out the latest new Iphone from his pocket. You only engaged in conversation through the dating app both of you met in and you thought it seemed only fair to give him your number after weeks of meeting him.

He taps a few things on his screen before you’re met with a white screen with only your first name and birthday typed. It is then when you wonder how he came about on knowing your birthday, if you had ever mentioned it in your electrifying conversations either on the app or this date. Most likely the second option.

You knew his name, well if you’d call it that, supplying you only his first initial. By his angelic looks, he was definitely of Valyrian descent. And you hate how much of a sucker you were for those blonde bitches. You knew he was in the last year of university, double majoring in political science and business here in the capital. You also knew he had a geriatric maine coon cat, Vhagar, who’d stuck with him since he was a child.

But that was pretty much it.

You nod, typing out the most critical information both of you needed in order to secure the second date. “Here you go,” you hand back his phone with such caution that causes his lips to quiver in a smirk.

He leans forward, too forward in a way you feel his breath steadily fanning your face and the warmth that radiates through his chest. You don’t pull away as his head lowers, keeping your gaze steady with his, admiring the amethyst hue of his lone eye that twinkles against the low street lights.

A snakes his hand around your hips, which normally you’d slap away if it was any other man. But he was different. A rare gentleman who bought you a single winter rose even when you were five minutes late, let you devour the fries off his plate, and hashed your steak without asking.

You wanted him to kiss you and perhaps even more.

You wouldn’t say no. If anything you’d whimper out a simple “please” if it came to that.

However, just as you expect his lips, it doesn’t come. He pulls away with a lupine smirk on his face, waiting for a response to a question you did not hear.

You cough away the slight embarrassment, “What?”

“I asked what your password was,”

Before you process how he did it, you see him wave the gray screen of your phone around your face, waiting for the six digit code.

Oh.

“I got your number but you did not get mine and you’re gonna need it when I take you out to dinner again.” The blonde in front of you points out.

True.

It almost feels too goofy revealing the code that multiple of your friends tease you for. Nevertheless, you stutter out the numbers: one, two, three, four, five, and six.

You hear him dryly laugh, shaking his head side to side as he types out the three sets of numbers. “Mmm, you need a better password, darling. One might think you want your personal information stolen,” He teases. You shift your thighs to a close at the term of endearment, already feeling the slightest tingles in a place where you desired him the most.

You make a sound of agreement making a mental note to change it later tonight. After he hands back your phone, he combs back the loose silvery hair out of his face into a neat bun that well flatters his face. “Take mine for example; it’s five, twenty-two, one-thirty. Easy to remember.”

“Is that your cat’s birthday?” You questioned.

“No. It’s the day we matched on Tinder.”

You are lost for words. Not even you knew the exact date you matched with him, only knowing it was around a few weeks ago. Judging by your reaction, he knew what you were thinking.

After a few more rounds of flirtatious conversations, you both decided to call it a night, waving each other goodnight as you watched as he sped up in a black, shiny Dragon T6, a vintage motorcycle that was the second most precious thing he owned. (The first being Vhagar). You’d be lying if that wasn’t one of the list of reasons why you swiped right. A tall Valyrian man, with long locks, that rode a motorcycle definitely modeled the countless dark romance books you’d spent hours reading.

To your frustration, the price of Uber had doubled the amount you’d paid for hours ago. Not even Uber Share happened to be near your price range. For ten gold dragons, you could buy a week’s worth of groceries!

So you sighed, turning off your phone. Your usual bus was still in service and way cheaper than the ridiculous prices of Uber. And while it was too late to be out by yourself, it was a risk you were willing to take.

As you rummage through your wallet for some copper coins, you hear a deep, rumbling sound of an engine revving up close to where you stand.

It’s him. Braking his bike on the side of the road where you are. His expensive Lysene suit coat no longer hugged his body, wearing only a white dress shirt that was half unbuttoned, giving you an impeccable view of his perfectly rounded cleavage and the multiple hidden tattoos you didn’t know he had.

“Hop in,” He says, pointing his head to the side. It was not a request but a demand.

You tilt your head, unsure whether to say yes or no. “Is it safe?” You ask. His chest moves, seemingly laughing as he opens the visor of his helmet. “Of course it is. I’m a cautious driver, never had an accident and I don’t think I ever will. I made sure to drink water after a glass of wine, so I’m not under the influence.”

He narrows his eye, observing the hesitation written throughout your face. He offers the spare helmet from his bag and hopes that it will coax the uneasiness.

“If you’re so dubious about it then by all means the bike is yours to drive.”

It’s your turn to laugh because the thought of you riding something of high value and rarity seemed absurd and silly. You were someone who did not have experience in driving in general whilst also being terrified of the narrow and steep roads of King’s Landing.

But there was no humor in A’s eye.

“You’re not serious are you?”

He powers off the bike before he scoots back from his seat. “I am.” He eagerly pats the spot he has saved for you.

“You do realize that this is a Dragon T6, right? They practically don’t make these anymore!” You gesture your hands around the expensive looking machine that was probably worth more than your left kidney.

He clicks his tongue, crossing his arms on his chest. “What’s your point?”

You scoff playfully, “My point is that manufacturers don’t make these anymore and if I crash it–”

“–You should have a little more faith in yourself. Maybe this will come naturally to you but you’ll never know if you don’t try.”

You can’t help but exhale in slight failure. This was a conversation you knew you couldn’t win with him. “Look, I’m not going to pressure you into something you don’t feel comfortable doing but I happen to be a great teacher. And if you do crash I’ll buy another, they aren’t that expensive anyways.” The Valyrian man shrugs as if thousands, or hundred thousands of gold dragons were nothing.

You mutter a “fine” under your breath which makes him all giddy with excitement and slides the helmet down your head. He double checks if it's secured before he lifts you to sit properly on his bike.

“Or I have one or two things in mind of how you could repay me.”

Every single piece of information he hurled your way was taken deep into your head. And you did your best to pay attention to it all under the sharp needles of nerves going through your spine. At some point he had given you little rubs up and down your back to soothe your nerves. The effect was anything but that, instead all you could think about was how his hands would feel against the bareness of your body.

Fuck.

You tried to push those lewd thoughts away as he demonstrated the anatomy of the Dragon T6. The ignition was a little red switch right below the speedometer, whilst the clutch was on the left hand side and the accelerator in your right. The gear shift was something you had to get used to as it was not on your eye level but rather a small little lever near your foot.

Once he feels you’ve gotten the grasp of how everything works it was time for the ultimate test. “Alright now we start. Are you ready?” He asked with an eager smile tugging his lips.

No.

You nod your head, adjusting the mirrors to match your height. You feel the tips of his fingers lift and turn your chin towards him, “Use your words, darling.” There it was that name again that made you clutch your thighs together. You audibly gulp, “Y-yes I’m ready.”

“Good,” His hands squeeze at your hip bones to bring you closer to him. Your eyes widen almost comically to what you assume is his cock pressing insistently onto your ass. It was hard, and through the thin material of your dress you could feel it throbbing full of want and need. Gods, how will you ever focus now?

A brief image flashed through your mind of how much and what was packing underneath his undergarments. The length and thickness and how it would feel wrapped around your palm as you’d stroke him from base to tip, or the taste of him as you’d take him inside your mouth, or having his full length stuffed deep inside you as he fucked you dumb.

Something tells you that he knows what you are thinking but neither of you speak about it.

Finally, he takes your hands onto the handles of the clutch and the accelerator and you, being a step ahead, check if the gear is on neutral before you release the clutch and to your satisfaction it is. The blonde behind you smiles at you proudly like a teacher would to their student.

“Now, you’re gonna slowly release the clutch and twist the accelerator slightly…there you go, good girl. You’re doing such a good job.” He coos at your ear.

The beat of your heart raced almost out of your chest. You weren’t sure if it was the excitement of a small accomplishment or the low timbre of his voice praising you but you welcomed it.

With confidence you didn’t know you had, you decided to drive the rest of the way to your apartment without complications and took up every tip the man behind you advised. The cool air kissing your skin and the adrenaline wildly pumping through your veins, awoke something in you and slowly you began to comprehend why A loved riding.

You had felt like a small bird taking its first flight through the skies.

When you both reached the parking lot to your apartment, you returned his helmet and a small part lingering inside you did not want to let it go. You enjoyed it and the freedom it brought you.

“That was so fun! I can’t believe it was that easy. Think I need to save me up for one of these,” You quipped patting the bike.

He throws his head back to let out an amused laugh, “Or I can just give you this one,” A tone of nonchalant laced through his voice.

You look at him baffled, “I was–”

“–But first we need to get you your license before I–”

“–Absolutely not, I was jesting.” You snipped, making him roll his eyes with a slight pout drawing out his lips.

“You’re stubborn and difficult, has anyone told you that?” You chortle thinking of the numerous times you’ve been called that.

“Plenty of times but I reckon this won’t be the last.”

He hums tucking a loose piece of hair behind your ear, “I guess I have to fuck it out of you.”

You blink.

The hue of your cheeks increased tenfold, your feet and body became paralyzed to what he had just confessed.

Had he just said that to shut you up? If so it worked.

You didn’t know how to respond to something as bold as that and to your inclination you lowered your head but the blonde behind you couldn’t have that. You felt the tips of his fingers roughly grip your jaw to meet his gaze. The amethyst hue of his eye turned into a darker shade of violet as he eyed between your eyes then your lips.

Every part of you screamed for him to kiss you or to do something to appease the longing.

You instinctively parted your lips when his head began to dip towards your lips. The tip of his nose brushed delicately against your own then it slowly trailed to sniff at your neck, the sweet smell of spiced peaches.

“Nyke jaelagon ao,” He whispered in his mother language.

“Pār emagon issa,” You said before you mentally said ‘fuck it’ and knocked the wind out of him with a kiss.

He lets out a mix between a growl and a groan as he feels your wandering hands tugging the roots of his hair. Something you yearned to do ever since you saw how long and silky his hair was.

And Gods did it meet your expectations.

His lips moved against yours most ardently and with equal fervor. It was hungry and needy the way your teeth clashed with his, tongues dancing for dominance until you hissed when he bit your lower lip.

You melted into his warm embrace, deciding to tease him by rubbing your palm on his clothed length, detecting a damp patch. You shot your eyes open, separating away your lips.

“Did you just cum?” You panted heavily.

A smirked, “I came when you first got on the bike and I was about to cum right now.”

You quirked a brow, “That’s what did it for you?” Redness coated his cheeks and before you knew it his lips were on you again and his hands lifted the hem of your dress, exposing the black lacy panties you wore just for him.

“Incase you get lucky,” Your best friend Sara teased just the day before when you and her took a shopping trip to a Lysene lingerie store.

Through some imaginary telepathic communication, you thanked Sara.

He groaned feeling the wetness that gathered through your folds. You weren’t just wet, you were dripping like honey on a hot summer’s day. A mischievous idea popped into his mind, something so lewd that made the head of his cock twitch with excitement.

You squealed as he swiftly turned you around and twisted the ignition switch on. Was he going to make you drive in this state?

“Move your panties to the side.” He commanded behind you.

You pushed away the curiosity and did what he bid you to do. “Good girl. Now lean forward a bit.” You shifted yourself forward until you could feel the warm metal of his seat pressing tenaciously at your bare cunt.

A gasp turned into drawn out moans as the blonde behind you revved the accelerator at a speed that made stars appear in your eyes. It felt good, so obscenely good that all thoughts about being in a public setting flew right over your head.

You began to grind yourself with the vibrations, creating as much friction to your bud as you could.

“That’s it, darling,” He encouraged behind you, increasing power to the accelerator just enough for your arousal to coat his bike. “Fuck yourself on my Dragon.”

You clenched around nothing, whining as you felt the pure waves of ecstasy slithering down your spine. It was unlike anything you ever felt, not even the vibrator you owned made you topple over the edge.

In ten seconds or less, you loudly moaned, not caring who heard or saw you, as your legs shaked and the coil around your stomach loosened, cumming absolutely hard.

Your limbs felt entirely spent as if you ran three laps around Rhaenys’ hill.

“Mmm, do not get too comfortable, now, darling.” He boasted smugly as his fingers scoop your honey to his lips, humming at the delicious taste. “I haven’t even fucked you senseless yet and after witnessing this I want nothing more but to ruin your ability to walk straight for week.”

A low whine escaped your lips at the thought of him roughly taking you. “Is that what you want?” He questioned, lowering the straps of your dress to expose your breasts to his gaze.

You sighed contently, feeling his tongue enclosing around your perk nipple. “Yes please,” You tenderly loop your fingers through his hair.

“I promise I will never make you beg,” He murmurs against your breast, “But you sound so pretty when you do.”

He had kept true to his word as he not only bent you over his bike as he fucked you raw, but took you three more rounds on your couch, bed and shower until you absolutely passed out in his arms. And for the rest of the week you couldn’t walk straight without limping. Thanks to Aemond Targaryen.

general taglist: @dreaming-for-an-escape @marvelescvpe @omgisrdj @ramsip @silentf @thenightmistress @dixie-elocin @namelesslosers @gigi-panecillo @laureeedn @watercolorskyy @seabasscevans @kittendoll05 @fullmoonworshipper @bunbunbl0gs @summerposie @dusicapopilic @tulips2715 @kckt88 @chaoticwinnercupcake @folksriddle @ficsandsin @nyx-daughterofchaos98 @qweencrimson @slytherized @qyburnsghost @tofujiji @saturnssrings @janeety @thought--bubble @theunburt @mandiiblanche @iamkookiesforyou @jeben196 @just-a-harmless-patato @moneypriestess @ladymoon666 @angelinap09

empty is who I couldn't tag sowwy besties.

#aemond targaryen one shot #aemond targaryen x you #hotd fanfic #aemond targaryen x reader #aemond targaryen #aemond #one shot #kinda smutty #aemond one eye #prince aemond #house of the dragon

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molotovmetro · 1 year

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The 141 + König with a s/o who goes non-verbal

Tiny disclaimer: im autistic and have moments of being non verbal during breakdowns etc, so this is based mostly off of my own experience, but if anyone feels like ive said inaccurate or offensive things, please let me know as that would never be my intention. The way I've written this suggests this is a negative feeling (, since thats how i experience it) but I understand that might not be the same for everyone. For some people this might just be a daily or

Requested by @apocalypticseagull

Warnings: mentions of stress and the slightest hint at possible injury, besides that nothing I can think of

M!reader

Ghost

Ghost relates to you. While he wouldn't claim his experience is the same, he gets moments of overstimulation where he wants everyone to leave him alone, and will just stop reacting to people.

When he feels like this, he prefers to sit in his room, either completely in the dark or with only a small lamp on, and have as little noise around him as possible.

If you're in a stress situation, not knowing what else to do to help you, that's what he'll resort to.

He'll take you into either his room or yours, whichever you would prefer, and holds you while letting you get away from all the triggers for a bit. Unless you're dealing with life or death situations, whatever work you have left for the day can wait. Your wellbeing always comes first.

Soap

Soap is a lot more observant than people give him credit for. He's the king of avoiding stressful situations for you whenever he can.

But alas, he can't avoid it every time. Whether you start saying less and less as the minutes go on, or just stop talking suddenly, he notices immediately.

Not that he'd be quick to admit it, but he's got a written list of everything you like, even if it's just something you mentioned in passing. He absutely will use this list to do whatever he can to make you smile and relieve some of your stress.

He'll make sure to find a way to still communicate that both of you are comfortable with. He'll happily lend you his journal to write in, or he'll ask Roach for some lessons in sign language. He'd break his back bending over backwards to make you comfortable if he had to.

Gaz

No matter how often it happens, Gaz still feels a jolt of panic whenever you don't respond over coms when you're on a mission. He almost sags in relief as soon as he hears you hum, or even just hears the crackly static of you pushing your radio's button.

He knows you're a talented soldier and you're more than capable of handling yourself, he still prefers to be near you at all times. What if something happens and you can't tell him? You could be in trouble without him even knowing. He'll, just knowing you're stressed is making him want to reach for you.

He likes his job, likes helping people and ridding the world of danger, but his favourite part of every mission is when you're sitting in the exfil helo after a good mission, and you give him that wide smile he's been waiting hours, if not days to see.

Price

You and Price have been working together for so long, you both know the drill. When he starts to notice you going quiet, he makes sure he only asks yes or no questions. On your side; one click of your radio button for no, two for yes. Throw in some improvised morse code when necessary, and you've got a solid communications system.

Having this system is also a huge bonus during stealth missions, when he can't talk freely without risking being spotted.

He loves hearing your voice, but he doesn't treat you any differently when you can't talk. He'll support you in whatever way you need, without making it feel like he's babying you.

The two of you are a well oiled machine. No matter how stressful the situation, usually you can tell what the other one is thinking just by looking at them. You know you both have each other's back, verbal communication or not.

König

König doesn't mean to make a big deal out of it, and he won't if you don't, but he does worry.

After a situation like that happens once, he commits everything that helps you to his memory, and uses the knowledge to help you the next time it happens.

Even down to the tiniest detail, he'll remember. If you don't like a certain texture or can only stand a certain flavour of drink during moments like this, he's making sure you have everything you need and are as comfortable as possible. Whatever is stressing you will be dealt with by him while you're resting and calming down.

If you want to be alone, he understands and respects that, and gives you the space you need. But if you don't, there's nowhere he'd rather be than by your side.

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leighsartworks216 · 8 months

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Hello!! I love your writing a lot and Im sorry if you've written something similar before but I just think a quieter Tav who would gently tug on Astarion's sleeve or shirt everytime they need help with a lock or a trap would be super cute. It would be super light and gentle tugs or taps to his shoulder, nothing forceful or hurtful. In exchange for his help they would let him have first pick of whatever is inside. Tav thinks he agreed to help because he gets a cut of the rewards, and that is true, but mostly because he's more fond of Tav than they know and he likes the way they smile and look at him when he helps - worth far more than the treasure inside any chest or room.

Thank you for sharing your writing! ❤️❤️❤️

This one feels super short to me but I still think it's pretty cute

Warnings: none

Word Count: 572

Masterlist

AO3

Tag List Form

Astarion couldn’t quite recall when it started. He remembers that you were cagey around him - around everyone, for that matter. Always so quiet, never speaking unless you absolutely had to. He’d tag along with you while you explored, and when you needed his lockpicking expertise, you’d call for him. Even if it was barely a whisper, his sensitive ears picked up on it and he came sauntering to your aid.

It evolved, rather quickly, he thinks. You stopped calling for him in favor of tapping against metal or knocking on wood, calling his attention to your location. It was especially effective over long distances, if you’d ended up wandering off.

And then it evolved further. This time it was mostly on his part. He decided once to stay nearby, search the rooms with you, looking for anything you may have looked over. But when you needed his help, you didn’t knock, you tapped on his shoulder. Admittedly, it startled him at first. Your footsteps were so quiet he didn’t hear you coming up behind him. Somehow, despite the efficiency of knocking, this was how you continued to get his attention.

You tugged on his sleeve, tapped on his arm - always gentle. That, too, formed its own little code. You tugged when there was a trap ahead, telling him without words to be careful. You would tap when you found a locked door or chest, or even just to get his opinion on something.

It was… endearing. The rest of the group would wander on ahead, exploring for themselves, and he stayed by your side the whole time. He wrote it off, of course, claiming he didn’t want you to strain your voice for his sake, but it became much more than that. And even though you always compensated him for his trouble (First dibs on treasure had earned him a few lucky finds, things that the others sure would have liked for themselves.), he found a greater treasure in your smile. In the way your eyes lit up at a particularly interesting discovery.

You tapped on his arm excitedly before you ran to a door. It was old and rusty, but not rusted enough to break through the lock keeping it in place. You tugged on the door handle and turned to him with such glee. He could hear your heart racing with anticipation.

“And what do you hope to find in there, darling?” he teased as he pulled out his lockpicks and got to work. He could see you shrug from the corner of your eyes. “Well, if all that’s in here is a skeleton, I’m afraid I’ll have to pass on claiming my reward.”

You nudged his shoulder playfully. He had a hard time keeping a smile off his face. With a few clicks and a very stubborn turn, the door unlocked. He stepped back before you could barrel him over.

The room was dark, with small reflections of light off metal catching your attention. It was probably gold or weapons or something worth the effort. But he couldn’t tear his eyes from you. Your child-like enthusiasm as you rushed inside to grab anything good, bright-eyed and smiling. If he could see his face, he’d see just how fond he looked at them - the gentle smile that came unbidden to his lips; the softness of his eyes, full of adoration and affection.

Yes, he thought, this was the best reward.

---

Tag List:

@satelliteapotheosis @hypopxia @flsalazar @beverlybeav @angelofthorr @emiemiemiii @marina-and-the-memes @lynnlovesloki @aurasyn @furblrwurblr

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olderthannetfic · 1 month

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As someone who accidentally achieved BNF status in two separate fandoms, I'll let you in on the secret cheat code (but beware being a bnf comes with a price and you won't know what it is until it's much too late)

It's commenting. And I don't just mean on the juggernaut fics or ships. Both times I came into a fandom in the first two years of their run. There were already a decent number of fics, lots of kudos (or favorites on ffn) but rare comments. Even the most popular fics, the ones ending up on rec lists, would have maybe 2-3 comments total.

I came from a fandom with a culture of commenting and I brought it with me. If I read a fic, it got a comment. Before anyone starts whinging nonsense about diluting the value of a comment, there is almost always something positive that you can find to comment on. I think back to my earliest writings and the way the elders and bnfs of my fandom encouraged my writing when I know from looking back on it, it wasn't great. But they found the seedlings of my strengths and they nurtured them through commenting. Encouraged the things that worked well in my stories, and yet somehow, rarely if ever offered concrite.

Everything I read gets a comment.

At the very least, the idea was creative enough for me to click into the story. Often there was a line or even a word choice that stuck with me and I would comment on. (and if six different people comment on how they liked "this bit" but no one comments on "that part" the authors are going to start realizing what worked and what didn't without anyone getting their feelings hurt)

After a few weeks, I was known for my comments. I had people replying to my comments about how excited they were: "yes! it's you! I got one!". And when I published my first work in the fandom, it seemed like everyone who had ever received a comment from me showed up to leave one for me.

I didn't set out to become a BNF. That was an unfortunate side effect and one I said I wouldn't repeat a few years later in my new fandom. (I did)

Turns out the fastest way to make friends is to hype their work. Reblog their work on tumblr and give a little non-spoilery shout out. Reply to reblogs and start conversations in the posts or in the tags.

A fandom lives and dies not only by the creative works made by the fans, but also by the response to that work.

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nerdpoe · 10 months

Note

DPxDC prompt idea

Had to get it out but don’t quite know how to write it

Jason Todd is a halfa. He doesn’t know it yet but a certain part of the government is tracking him down. They have plans to capture and experiment on him alongside with another halfa from Amity Park. They eventually capture him via using ghost hunting equipment and he’s whisked away with barely a trace left for the Bats. Jason learns the kid’s name is Phantom and they bond while in captivity.

They can get rescued. Or not. If they do I think it should be by Dick or even Jazz in all their glory. This was meant to be a hurt/comfort and angsty kind of fic or oneshot. With maybe a lil bit of fluff thrown in.

What do you think? :D

Hmmmm...could start with Jason noticing he's being stalked by dudes in white suits, and every time he beats them they come back in greater numbers.

That would make the whole "minimal trace" thing even creepier, because multiple CCTV witnessed Jason vanish into a warehouse, then being followed by an insane amount of people in white suits.

But that's it. No evidence of a fight, no nothing. They walked into the warehouse and then they were gone.

GIW with Jason not knowing he's a halfa? He'd just be pissed they keep calling him an "it" and doing stupid experiments. He gets classified as more dangerous than Phantom cuz he never goes in his ghost form, and yet he still keeps managing to find ways to maim GIW operatives.

But that's just cuz he doesn't realize he has one yet.

Him and Danny bonding because holy shit, this is a kid.

Danny forcing himself to stay in Phantom form for as long as possible, because that form can take more punishment than his human one.

And when Jason's had enough and Danny's coded double-speak finally starts to click, he manages to go into his ghost form.

But it isn't a visage of himself as Robin.

No, Jason's been exposed to the pits. He died in fire and smoke and was reborn in poison.

His ghost form is positively eldritch.

Too many teeth, too many eyes, arms with too many joints, a form that keeps glitching out of existence-he's positively terrifying.

Add that to the fact that in his ghost form, he's always going to be a little Pit Mad?

He's murdering people left and right, and then eating their ghosts as they form.

Danny's ghost type is a Banshee, Ellie's is Poltergeist, (she never got caught tbh she's been hiding in Mount Justice) and Jason?

His technical classification is Reaper. (because i get you, Jason, and i deeply understand the need to be edgy)

By the time Danny manages to calm him down enough to go human, he and the kid are the only ones with pulses in that compound.

When the Bats arrive to break him out, the GIW compound is a smoking wreck littered with corpses, and Jason is wholly unimpressed with Bruce's rescue timing.

#dcxdp #dpxdc #dc x dp #dp x dc #story prompt

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chaosandmarigolds · 1 month

Text

Tic-Tac-Toe

based on this!! amazing ask!!

.. -. / - …. . / -. .- -- . / --- ..-. / --. --- -..

To look at and to listen to is one things, something that would click immediately within your mind if you had seen it- however, to feel it is something you weren't fully aware you could do. Small taps on your thigh when you would be sitting next to him in the mess hall, laughing to one of Johnny's absurd jokes. Feeling the dashes on the palm of your hand as you walked through the corridors on slow nights.

- --- / -... . / -- .. -. .

Sure you had always known that the Simon Riley had a hard time saying things, he was a flirt to the random girls at the bar but to the people he truly cared about; it was like stumbling through a sentence was the easiest thing for him. So you had resigned to accept his nonverbal acts of affection. Allowing yourself to be content with soft kisses in lieu of words.

- --- / .... .- ...- . / .- -. -.. / - --- / .... --- .-.. -..

It wasn't that he was unaffectionate, quite the opposite, it was that he couldn't show it how he so deeply wanted to. The words would get caught in his throat and they would come out a half kidding banter, like a dig into the psyche. All the same, what he felt for you was something so deep and profound that not even he could dare put it into words. So he would maybe whisper them against your skin when he knew you were too asleep to even know he was awake, he would let his touch linger.

..-. --- .-. / -... . - - . .-. / .- -. -.. / ..-. --- .-. / .-- --- .-. ... .

You didn't think much of the taps, you summed it up to a nervous tic, or maybe something he found comforting. After all, since before you had been dating you always knew he liked to be moving some part of his body, if it be rubbing that frayed edge of his jacket or lightly tapping the palm of your hand.

- --- / .-.. --- ...- .

It didn't click, how he would climb into bed after a long day and how his hand would almost mindlessly move on its own, tapping the skin of your hip as he tried to squeeze into you as if you would vanish if he didn't. You didn't realize the important of the faint kisses on the nape of your neck and how they were oh so perfectly timed to be some sort of code.

Until it was a code.

.- -. -.. / - --- / -.-. .... . .-. .. ... ....

" Hol on, Hol on, /m gettin somthin."

You look to Johnny from where you were currently desperately trying to fix the radio, the thick smog limiting your sight and the burn of the gas in your lungs making it hard to breathe. With a heaved breath you push yourself up to stand and then sink back to your knees where Johnny had been trying to see if the truck's radio worked- a mission gone south left you and he, separated from Simon, leaving him in the building.

It was silent until the beeping came over the radio and it...felt so familiar yet you couldn't place your hand on it, it was like a deja-vu feeling within your gut- "It's morse code- God, I forgot that was still a thing."

Johnny looks up at you and then gives you a weak laugh, "Yea, hol' on," as he spoke he took out a pen and paper and began to scribble down the dashes and lines.

"Think it's him?"

"He's tha' only un' tha' knows it."

..- -. - .. .-.. / -.. . .- - .... / .--. .- .-. - ... / ..- ...

"Johnny?" It had taken the man a few seconds to write down the repeating message, then a few more to translate it.

"Johnny is it him? Is he okay?"

There was no silence, the hiss of the storm raging outside and the faint roar of gunfire from the battle you had just been ordered to flee. Yet everything was so slow, he wasn't speaking, he looked almost sorrowful.

.. / .-.. --- ...- . / -.-- --- ..- --..--/ ... --- / -- ..- -.-. .... / -.. --- ...- .

"He loves you. He said he loves you so much."

.. .----. -- / ... --- -.- -.- -.--

"He's sorry."

(annnnway thats all! any feedback, comments or ideas you got trust me I wanna hear them! <333)

#simon ghost riley #simon riley fanfic #cod x you #simon riley x reader #simon riley imagine #simon riley x you #simon ghost riley x reader #cod fluff #coco's chaos <3 #simon ghost x reader #simon riley #simon x reader #ghost mw2 #ghost cod #simon ghost fluff #ghost fanfiction #cod imagine #cod ghost

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cosmos-coma · 3 months

Text

My Sun, My Star- Part 3

A/N: I feel like I’ve been writing and editing this forever but I think I’m finally done! I had a lot of requests for the Winter Soldier meeting his baby and so here we are! Besides a small epilogue this will probably be the last direct chapter of My Sun, My Star. Hope you’ve enjoyed!

Pairing: Bucky X Reader / Winter soldier!Bucky x Reader

Words: 4996

Warnings: Blood, fear of kidnapping/death, threats of violence, swearing, pregnancy/labor/birth, GN reader (no pronouns), but pregnant reader, blood, canon-level violence, rare use of Y/n (let me know if I missed things)

Part 1 | Part 2 | Epilogue | Bucky Masterlist

Buy me a Ko-fi?

________

“And you promise this is safe?” Bucky asked tentatively, his brow drawn together as he frowned in concern. His arms would have been crossed tight across his chest had one hand not been occupied holding yours.

“It’s the safest thing anyone could do,” Maria assured him from across the table, “it should only take about 40 minutes. We just need someone to make sure everything is set up properly in the safe house. There's some light cleaning and we need to make sure that the locks are good, the thermostat works, and the signal jammers are functional” she explained at length.

Today they were receiving a low-tier HYDRA agent that had recently defected. Fearing for his and his partner's life they sought refuge with what remained of SHEILD, promising to spill whatever secrets he needed to keep them safe. However, in the off chance it was all a ruse, they set up signal jammers so there’d be no chance of the agent alerting HYDRA or anyone else that may compromise the location.

“If it helps we can even keep the house under surveillance just in case. There’s plenty of cameras on the surrounding houses we can use to keep an eye out,” Maria continued, looking across the table to you this time.

You rubbed your enlarged belly, nearly bursting at the seams as you were due just a few days from now. Bucky had been the perfect companion while you were stuck at home, getting you anything you could possibly need, making sure you didn’t tip over, and keeping you entertained while you were mostly couch and bed-bound.

But now you were bored out of your mind, beyond tired of sitting on the couch at home all day and night, so why wouldn’t you take an easy job and the bit of money that goes with it? You can waddle around for a while to check some things out. You might be a little slow, but it couldn’t be more than an hour at most. What’s the harm in that?

“I’d love to, when do I start?”

Bucky did not have a good feeling about this.

____

It started as any other day; fairly quiet and mundane, and although it would be boring to anyone else, you were just happy to see something other than the inside of your apartment. You pulled the car to a stop in the driveway, looking up at the nice yet bland little house that sat before you. It was a good-looking neighborhood just an hour outside of the city, with decently spaced houses and gardens dotting the lawns here and there. And if you were anybody else it’d be your perfect suburban dream.

After a brief moment of struggling to squish your belly past the steering wheel you finally managed to hobble out, “Ha ha! See? Pregnancy isn’t so hard… I make this look easy,” you boasted to yourself with a grand smile as you stepped out of the car. You took a moment to dig your knuckles into your lower back as you exited, trying to chase away the pain you felt. It had started aching something awful on your way out here, cresting and falling in small waves, but it was nothing you couldn’t work around. You’d lay down eventually and you're sure it would right itself in no time.

You waved to the cameras pleasantly as you walked to the front door, clicking the key into the lock and punching in the ever-changing security code Maria gave you. Unlocking with a lighthearted mechanical chirp you stepped inside and looked around.

It was pretty bare bones; just the basic necessities- food, water, a couple of games, and a shelf of books to pass the time with. Curtains were drawn tight over the windows, keeping the place veiled in shadowy darkness and prying eyes out as you took your first few steps in. Closing the door behind you with a soft click you pulled out your phone to text Maria.

‘Testing testing 123,’ you sent, pausing a moment before giving a satisfactory nod as it refused to go through. The jammers seemed to be working just fine.

Bucky had been thoroughly against it when he heard there’d be signal jammers; he did not want you anywhere you couldn’t contact him with your due date so soon. But Maria assured him (as much as she could) that you’d still be able to call if needed- and vice versa- but that you’d have to use the tapped landline hanging inside the kitchen.

You hummed softly as you went about your work, ignoring the discomfort that ran down your back and stomach as you moved. You were just about halfway through your list when you felt your belly begin to quake, “Ohhh, hey. Okay, I know you probably wanna sit down, but we’ve barely started,” You winced as you rubbed your stretched-out skin, only to be met with a sharp kick.

“Ow! Okay! okay, maybe 5 minutes on the couch first…,” You held both your back and your stomach as you waddled toward the couch slowly, surely looking like quite the sight had anyone been around to see it.

Clink clink clink

You paused as you heard the front door jiggle.

No one was supposed to be here for hours yet.

It jiggled again, and this time you heard the voices of several people standing outside.

“There’s a car outside, he’s got to be here” you barely made out as the first voice mumbled, “if not him, then his partner- And I won’t be going back empty-handed,” another chimed in.

“We’ll find a way to keep him silent. Whether with his blood or theirs.”

Your stomach dropped.

They must’ve been HYDRA agents. Were they here for the defector? How on earth did they find this place?

But there was no time to think as the landline rang loudly from the kitchen. Wincing, you prayed to anyone who would listen that they wouldn’t hear it- but no such luck.

The door rattled again, violently this time, and was followed by mumbled threats to an agent you had never met.

Panic coursed through your body as you waddled quickly through the house, head turning this way and that as you searched desperately for a place to hide.

‘Can’t fit under the bed, the bathroom is too obvious, the kitchen is too open, I can’t go outside, and I can’t fight my way out…’ Your brain ran through endless possibilities, unhappy with each one as you clutched your stomach.

Pew pew

You recognized the sound of muffled gunshots immediately, they were quieted by a silencer- a terrifying thought- but you recognized them all the same as they shot through the security pad outside the door.

“Fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck,” you cursed as you bolted toward your last choice, darting into the closest bedroom and tucking yourself behind the closet’s sliding doors, pulling them closed with a swift slam just as the front door busted in.

‘Deep breaths… Deep breaths…,’ You tried to slow your frantic breathing as footsteps entered the otherwise silent house. You desperately wished there were clothes, anything, in this closet you could hide beneath but it was as bare as the rest of the house. Sitting down, you curled into the furthest corner of the closet you could, forcing your heavy breaths into silence as you raked your brain for any solution you could.

‘Ah! My phone!! I can text for help!’ You scrambled to pull your phone from your pocket and quickly typed out a message to Bucky. Hopefully, he’d alert the others and be the first to come to your rescue.

“No, no, no, no…” you groaned quietly, “Why isn’t it sending?” You shook your phone angrily as it continued to refuse you and sighed in defeat when you finally remembered the jammers set up throughout the house. Your only hope now was the landline in the kitchen….

“Spread out,” the HYDRA leader commanded as he made his way into the house, picking up your bag that you so carelessly left out, “Find whoever’s here, and do whatever you need to bring them in. As long as they’re breathing, I don’t care how they come back,” He ordered, several pairs of feet breaking away immediately to search through the house.

You pulled your knees as close to your chest as you could, tears prickling your eyes as you tried to think of a way out. You weren’t even sure when the tears started to run, your mind growing numb as you thought of bad ending after bad ending. Doors slammed on the floor above you, making you flinch as you knew that at any moment it could be yours. You were trapped

But you had to be calm- Bucky would want you to remain calm. You could think of a way out, you knew you could, you just needed to take a deep breath. What would Bucky tell you to do?

You had just managed to get yourself somewhat calm again when a sudden wetness took over your lower half. Panic set in again as you scrambled to see over your ballooned belly, fearfully wishing this wasn’t what you thought it was. But as an even worse pain tore through you, like knives jabbing into your pelvis, you knew you weren’t mistaken.

Your water just broke.

——-

Technicians clacked away at their keyboards with lightning speed as Maria Hill entered the room. They had called her not too long ago, alerting her of an urgent matter- but even she couldn’t have guessed what this was about.

“There’s been a security breach…” the head technician announced as she flicked across their various screens to show her. “They weren’t subtle about it, I’m not sure if they wanted us to know or if they just didn’t care, but-“

“What did they take?” Maria interrupted, trying to get to the point.

“That’s the thing… they bypassed all our important files, the only file they actually opened was the one containing the safe house addresses…” she looked up at Hill with an expression that could only be described as nauseous, “We tried calling Y/n, but there was no answer…,” she bit her lip as she finished, even she obviously expected the worst.

Maria’s jaw clenched. She knew Barnes was going to kill her as soon as he found out, but she couldn’t just keep it from him either- “Pull up the security footage of house #6… now. Right now….” Her pen clicked nervously in her hand as she waited for it to come up, her stomach dropping as she saw a dark SUV in the driveway, the front door left partially open, and the security panel completely down.

“Rewind it…” she ordered, clicking her pen faster and- “Shit. This is…. Not ideal…” Maria said, obviously trying to keep her voice level and professional.

She stood behind her technicians, watching the back-tracked security film play the video of trained agents pulling up to the safe house and shooting in the door.

“Alert the team… I need to make a call.”

She slowed the clicking of her pen as the phone rang, barely getting out one full ring before it was immediately answered.

“Where do I need to be?” His voice was low, anger barely being held back on its tight leash. He already expected the worst and unfortunately, this time he was right.

“Sargeant Barnes, we have a situation... I’m sending you the address now.”

————

Horns blared as Bucky swerved onto the shoulder, speeding past traffic as he made his way to the safe house. His knuckles were a ghastly white as he gripped the steering wheel like a vice, the creaking of steel beneath his hands the only thing keeping him connected to the present.

He should have never let Maria talk you into it, or at the very least he should have been there to help you.

“Sergeant Barnes, we have a situation… I’m sending you the address now” Maria said.

“What kind of situation…?” His voice had been deathly low, barely restraining the anger it held. He made a beeline for the car as soon as he saw Maria’s name flash on the screen. He’d had his phone in hand all morning just for this exact scenario.

He could hear her frown through the phone and his skin burned with worrisome anger as she spoke, “HYDRA’s broken into the safe house… we’ve tried to contact Y/n but there was no answer. They’re still there, no one has left, and as far as we know there’s been no shots fired besides at the front door.”

He nodded curtly as he hung up, putting the car into gear and peeling out of the lot with a roaring screech of his tires. He couldn’t count the number of laws he broke as he tore through the city’s endless streets racing against an invisible clock.

Out of nowhere his arm jerked to the side, pulling him from his thoughts as he narrowly missed a stopped car before him. Stunned breaths caught in his chest as he realized what a close call it was, literally inches from disaster.

His body had acted without thinking, moving almost like it had a mind of its own… it was only when the back of his mind began to itch and squirm did he know why.

“Shit...” he sighed. The Winter Soldier must’ve sensed what was going on, digging himself toward the forefront of Bucky’s mind to take over. Bucky was still in control for now, but he wasn’t sure how much longer it would last.

“I guess I owe you a thanks,” he begrudgingly mumbled to himself, focusing once more on the road ahead. He was just 25 minutes out and he prayed he’d get there in time.

Continuing down the road he shifted uncomfortably; the Winter Soldier’s presence didn’t fade, but it didn’t press any further either. It was almost like he was… waiting for permission?

Bucky shook his head. 23 minutes out.

He knew you trusted the assassin, and after watching the videos of your last interaction he… trusted him too- to a point. But even with this iota of trust, his instincts still had him hesitating to relinquish control. What if it didn’t have a happy ending this time? What if he went too far? What if he couldn’t come back…? The fear had been ingrained in him so long ago that he wasn’t sure he could ever fully give it up.

But he may not have a choice anymore. If what Hill said was right then there were at least 6 agents waiting for him and he was completely unarmed. There was only one person he knew that could bring both of you out in one piece…

“Fuck,” Bucky swore. He knew what he had to do. Speeding passed the last car in his way, he pulled out into the empty straight-away before him. Bright blue eyes stared back at him through the rear-view mirror as he sighed, “Don’t make me regret this…”

Pain rippled through his skull, ringing as if his head was stuck inside a church bell. Haze crept into his sight as the edges of his vision blurred and he let himself fully slide into the backseat of his consciousness. His shoulders shifted slowly, rolling as he gripped the steering wheel even tighter. The soft material caved under his metal fingers with a wretched creak, leaving ripples in the leather-covered metal.

As the cloud of pain finally passed, burning away like early morning fog, he pulled the rear-view mirror down. A familiar dark aura surrounded his gaze as he watched himself, trained and sharp as he nodded to his reflection.

He wasn’t Bucky anymore.

“Вы не будете [you won’t].”

————

“No no no no…. Not right now, please. Anything, but this-“ you paused your mumbling as footsteps passed right in front of the room, “-Okay maybe not anything, but still….”

You held your breath, tensing as another contraction passed through you and you willed yourself not to make a sound, but it was getting harder and harder each time. It dawned on you that you must have been having contractions this whole time. That pain in your back when you started driving down, the quaking of your belly, it was all a part of your labor- you just didn’t realize until your water finally broke.

Tears flowed freely from your eyes, not at the pain but at the horror of your situation; There was no way to get out without being seen, you were far too slow for that in your current state and you were bound to be bagged and shoved in a van as soon as they caught you. However, you couldn’t wait and hope to give birth in this closet either; the moment she comes out she’s going to be a screaming mess and then you’ll both be in a vulnerable state.

‘Where is Bucky…?’ You thought as tears clouded your vision, your fingers redialing him from memory alone even if you knew it would never go through, ‘please, please… I have to do something…’

You dug the heels of your palms into your eyes as you furiously rubbed the tears away, again trying to remain calm. ‘Okay, think… think… maybe I can slip out through the window…? If I’m quiet enough maybe I can take my time with it?’ You thought as you peeked through the slats in the closet doors.

You hoped that the windows wouldn’t be locked as you looked down at your phone again, trying to time out your contractions, ‘Okay…. After the next one hits we’ll just make a break for the window.. that should be more than enough time to get myself out, right? Thank god I hid on the first floor.’

You waited until your next contraction hit, biting down on your lip to keep yourself quiet. You breathed furiously through your nose to try to keep your composure and began to taste iron as blood spilled into your mouth. But you didn’t care- you couldn’t afford to.

“Shit, shit, okay…” you breathed as it finally passed, slowly shifting onto your hands and knees, reaching for the knob when-

Click

You heard the door to the room click open and footsteps come inside. Quickly covering the gasp that threatened to escape, you eased back down slowly. Fear froze your entire body, you didn’t even realize when you started holding your breath, but you weren’t about to let it go now.

You wasted your time and now you were stuck here; dear god were you gonna die in a closet? This is not how you imagined yourself going.

Through the slats in the closet doors, you watched the agent check the room, under the bed, under the desk- he had just started to leave when he stopped in front of the closet doors, his feet turning to face you.

Your heart squeezed painfully as every part of you waited with bated breath. You heard his hand fall on the knob. This was it. The moment he opened it he was bound to see you. You had nowhere left to hide.

You only hoped it would be quick.

You closed your eyes as you heard the closet door begin to open. You were sure you had been seen until-

“Hm?” The agent said as he turned toward the commotion happening in the other room. His hand left the knob and you watched as his shadow quietly slink away toward the sound of growing struggle and gunfire.

Was now your chance..?

BANG

‘NOPE!’ You screamed in your head as gunfire went off right outside the room's door, accompanied by the heavy thud of a body and cloth on tile as it was dragged away. Boots squelched against the hall's sleek floors, coming closer until they transitioned to the sound-absorbing carpet of the room.

Braving a peek through the thin slats you saw blood-covered boots, different ones than the agent just before, but the same terror filled you as you noticed them facing you.

Your breath burned as you held it still in your lungs, your whole body tense with anxiety. Did someone hear you? Did they know you were here? You had kept yourself so hidden, how did they know?

“Ты не сможешь спрятаться от меня, дорогая... Я узнаю свое солнце где угодно [you can’t hide from me, darling… I’d know My Sun anywhere].”

You knew that voice... You knew that voice..!

Cautiously, holding your stomach close you peeked past the sliver of an opening, “My Star…?”

He was covered in smatterings of blood from his head to his boots, yet thankfully none of it seemed to be his own. Despite his slightly battered and blood-covered appearance, his darkened eyes swam with reverence and relief as his strange little smile shined brighter than his namesake. You couldn’t be sure exactly when the assassin’s persona had come out, but you were beyond glad he was here.

“My star!” You beamed and scrambled to your feet to launch yourself at the Assassin, only making it halfway off the floor before crumbling back into a tight ball. You yelled, tears flowing once more as you finally put voice to the pain of your contractions, they were coming on much quicker now.

Obvious worry flashed across his face as he rushed in to catch you, gently easing you onto the floor. Hands roamed over you in a cursory search as he spoke, trying to find the source of your pain, “My Sun? What’s wrong? Are you hurt?”

You whimpered as the pain lingered, wisps of it swirling across your stomach and hips before finally settling away, “Ah…. No, I’m fine- mostly fin…” you shuddered as you clung tight to his arms, trying to stand.

“I’ve got you…” The Soldier soothed with a murmur, his voice surprisingly sweet in your ear as he whispered soft words, “You’re okay now….” Careful eyes scanned over your body again as you were scooped off the ground by two strong arms, his shoulders relaxing slightly as he saw you were indeed unharmed.

You couldn’t find it in yourself to care for the way blood stained your clothes and smeared across your skin as you were held fast against his chest. He held you like you were everything delicate about the world, and to him you were. Turning his face into your neck he breathed in every part of you- the fear, the sweetness, the grime, the love; he wanted to breathe in every moment that he had missed.

“My Sun, how long has it been..? You’ve grown so much…,” Adoration pooled in his once frigid eyes as they washed over you. As steady as he could manage he settled you on the small heap of pillows making their home on the bed. His large warm hand was like a godsend as he pressed it against your aching belly, his touch seeming to quell everything- even for just a moment.

“4 months…” you replied, all your focus was on breathing through your nose while your hands absentmindedly went to remove your pants, finding difficulty when your nearly 9-month belly got in the way.

“4 months… so this-” His voice paused as he stepped in to help remove your pants. His eyes cast down to your belly, seemingly searching for a moment before looking back up at you, and for once you saw the Winter Soldier’s darkened gaze filled with never-ending light. “I finally get to meet her..?” his voice was uncharacteristically soft as he spoke, his words filled with disbelief, “I get to meet our girl…?” he whispered as if he was scared that speaking too loud would surely jinx it.

Your lips cracked into a small smile as you watched him, your heart fluttering all the more as he spoke in hushed tones. You nodded as you took his hand against your quaking belly, “It’s time… But I can’t do this on my own,” you looked up at him with big eyes, ones that spoke of urgency and need, “I don’t know if anyone else is coming, and I don't know if we have time to wait for them either,” you said, looking at him in hopes that he’d begin to understand. “I need you to help me when she comes, okay? I… I think I need you to deliver her.”

Light-filled blue eyes faltered as he looked from you to your stomach and back again. His hands were used to taking life from this world, not bringing it in. Not to mention that, unlike Bucky, He did not have the time nor the resources to read parenting books; he was completely unprepared for a mission like this and for once he actually found himself scared.

“Ah… My Sun, I-” he started. What if he messed it up? What if he hurt her? … What if he really was only good at one thing- killing? He wouldn’t be able to live with himself if this went wrong- and he knew his gentler half wouldn’t either.

“I’ll try to walk you through it, okay? Please?” you begged as you squeezed his hand. You were terrified, plain and simple, but between the two of you- you were the only one with hours of anxiety-filled Google searches under your belt and for now, that would just have to do.

His eyes shot back up to yours, searching your gaze for a moment before nodding, “Okay, My Sun… anything you ask…” he promised. And he did, anything and everything you asked of him he was quick to get, whether it was more pillows, washing the blood from his face, or giving you his hand so you could break it as you squeezed.

Your contractions began getting closer and closer until they were only mere minutes apart. Pain ripped through every fiber of your muscles, every shard of your bone, and every cell of your organs as your baby girl squirmed to be free.

“I can’t… I can’t hold her in anymore…” you said wearily, your hair probably this way and that, but all you knew was how tired you were already. Your eyelids hung half-lidded as you looked up at him, pressing his cool metal hand further into your flushed cheek. You were a mess, you were damp all over and red in the face and grouchy beyond belief but you were still a shining sun in the vibrant sky of his blue eyes.

He nodded and quickly moved between your legs, not letting the sight phase him as he readied himself exactly as you instructed. He was going to be calm for you, despite the way the assassin inside him yelled that he was unprepared. He had done plenty of missions with only a sliver of knowledge to go on- he wouldn’t let it stop him now.

“You’ve done great, My sun. The long part is over and now you have just a little bit more,” he said, giving you words of encouragement- just as you instructed. “You're going to do amazing, and I know that she is going to be as perfect as you in every way,” Despite your request for encouragement there was nothing but complete honesty in his tone. He believed every word he said to you and for the first time in this entire pregnancy, you truly thought you could do this too.

It took only 4 pushes and the cost of feeling in the Soldier’s fingers before the most blessed cries filled the air. Your baby’s sweet chubby face wailed the world’s sorrows as the Soldier held her delicately in his once-bloodied hands. Despite her red face and angry cries, she was the most beautiful thing he had ever seen. He would have taken down a hundred agents- a thousand if it meant he got to see her face for the first time again.

“Моя прекрасная девочка... Несмотря на то, что ты плачешь и кричишь с первых вдохов, ты - самое замечательное существо, которое я когда-либо видел. [My beautiful girl… even though you cry and scream with your very first breaths you are the most wonderful thing I’ve ever seen],” he whispered to her writhing little form, quickly cutting and tying the cord before wrapping her snuggly in your jacket. Her cries quieted and her kicking feet slowed to a stop as the soothing rumble of his voice reached her ears- almost as if she recognized it.

After a few more frustrated grunts, her formerly closed eyes slid open. Radiant blue’s gazed back at him, like a still ocean they seemed to reflect his own perfectly. “У нее мои глаза... Дорогая, у нее мои глаза [She has my eyes… Darling, she has my eyes],” he looked up at you with a joy so innocent you could never have imagined the things he had done in his lifetime. There was another piece of him in the world now, a piece beyond the bloodshed and dark shadows he knew- something clean and new, and perfect.

Your heart swelled beyond measure as you watched the Winter Soldier hold his tiny daughter, his gaze filled with adoration as if he had never known anything less. He was a sight to behold as he leaned in, his forehead resting gently against her little one as she gazed up at him in wonder.

Despite the tiredness you felt deep in your bones you fought hard to stay awake, utterly transfixed by the scene before you. In all your life you couldn’t have imagined today going the way it did, but you couldn’t have asked for a better end to it.

As you watched the once fearsome Winter Soldier laugh as she gripped his finger with all her might, you could think of nothing to do except pull your phone out and snap a photo- you were going to cherish this photo forever as a memory that would always last.

__________

Bucky Taglist:

@writingmysanity@simpxinnie@mirtaqueen@blackhawkfanatic@mcira@aagn360@nialiuwanderlust@waywardhunter95 @goldylions

thanks to everyone who wanted to be tagged this chapter! If you want to be added to the general Bucky taglist please DM me!

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uyuartik · 4 months

Text

bad idea, right? (obi wan kenobi x f!reader)

tags: slightly sith coded obi wan, no use of y/n, my unhinged take on regency era, (blaming bridgerton and pride and prejudice), probably historical inaccuracies, SMUT, mentions of oral sex (fem and male receiving), mentions of fingering, piv sex, dom!obi?, i really don't know what to write here it is just filth and it is gonna get filthier

a/n: HII! so i became haunted by historical!obi au's and spent six months writing a short series... this is the first chapter out of three, so i hope you stay tuned for the upcoming one (it is FILTHIER than this and about 19k words)

likes and reblogs are very much appreciated, and i can't wait to hear your opinions! i am also crossposting on ao3, feel free to interact there as well.

enjoy!!!

word count: 5.4K

chapter one: see you tonight?

“…Fuck, just like that-“

That voice. Yes, that’s how you ended up here, you think, as you roll your hips, feeling the exquisite contours of Obi Wan’s cock stretching your walls and pulling pleasure out of every cell in your body, and possibly from your soul too.

Ehem. Lord Kenobi.

And truth be told, that’s not exactly how things led here. Of course, his rich voice and the manner in which he used it were notable factors. The way he camouflaged his remarks under sweet quips never failed to make you giggle into the next day, and regardless of the topic (ashamedly, it was mostly about the other people in the room, and their rather obscene behaviors), the comments he made always reflected the intelligence behind it. He played the serious bit perfectly too, even though his reverent sentences carried some poetry, never pompous, yet deep enough to convey its origin and the realness of his sincerity… That’s why you started spending hours with him at balls in the first place. Ten minutes alone with him, undoing all the prejudice you had against the man. All the rumors about him were proven wrong, or at least, half true. And you liked that remaining part of the truth.

Only after that, came the subject of his charms. Not quite surprising, considering that there was no lack of handsome faces around, but a lack of brains in them. Or a true heart. You hated the hypocrisy of it all, and it was a blessing to find someone who shared that sentiment. Not to mention the benefit of him deflecting any unwanted company.

Likewise, he must've thought the same about you, thus your current position. It was obvious that both of you two had similar standards, even in these lewd matters. People didn’t call him a heartbreaker because he pursued a lot of women, but when he did and it came to an inevitable end, they were the shell of whom they used to be, like a person could be mummified by the absence of the joy he charmed people with it. And you, you weren’t the type to have somebody just because you could. No, you looked for a special connection, a click, and when you got lucky and found one among the countless candidates, you treasured it. Now, even the word click sounded wanting, there were sparks present between the two of you, a considerable, good dynamic you two had built, and that made everything just better.

You were almost sad thinking this was a one-time event, already knowing this is a moment you'll remember your entire life. (You weren't gonna push your luck on getting caught.) If there were such deals, two of you keeping it to each other forever in this aspect of life, you’d have signed that contract in a blink.

“Thought you said you were tired.” He breathes out, clearly an effort, yet the smug grin on his face leaves no room for doubt or pity.

“I’ve been sitting all day.” That’s how travel works in carriages, after all. “I think stretching my legs, is what I need.” You emphasize by raising yourself higher and slowly sink back down a few times, a motion that pulls moans from both of your mouths.

Travel. It took you half a day to reach your aunt’s estate, and you were fairly certain you wouldn’t attend the ball that is currently taking place. Then, you realized there was no way your gracious hostesses would see you tonight, you were forced to enter the saloon. It would be a quick in and out, maybe greeting a few more people, no dance, with the very valid excuse of I’ve been on the road all day and I am quite exhausted ready on your lips at any interaction. This was why you didn’t even bother to put much effort into your looks, opting for a change of dress, and nothing more. No jewelry, no retouches to your hair. After all, it would just add to your part if you seemed slightly off.

Somehow, it turned out to be a regrettable decision, when numerous eyes turned to you as you took a step into the room, and even longer after that. Maybe not every head turned or the music came to an abrupt stop, the sprouting silence broken by collective whispers, but it happened, subtle yet enough to make itself known. You were given the same treatment for years at this point, but there was no getting used to it. Color that had been settling in your cheeks seemed to be permanent, at least for the night, not leaving your side as you took your place among your relatives. The expensive fan you were gifted by- God knows who, you were in no mood to remember it now, did nothing to relieve your suffering.

And, countless other greetings don't help either. You fastened the movement of your hand, curling your lips into a forced smile. You could truly get tired from all these repeated words and gestures.

"I'm afraid I forgot to bring my dance card." You said again, to the third man who came with the same offer, Duke Caldo, all true except the part "forgot". You left it, willingly, just in front of your vanity mirror. The mirror which you desperately wanted to see yourself in right now, away from the ball.

"A great pity." The exclamation didn't come from him, though.

Your fan dropped from your hand and closed itself when it hit your wrist, dangling from the loop around your forearm as you heard that voice, no introduction ever needed. Perhaps, not even his voice was required, for there was always that unexplainable change in the quality of air in the rooms he occupied, like he was casting a spell on those around him, trickling magic dust with every step, a rare perfume. You wouldn’t use such metaphors if it wasn’t for the simple fact that your body always figured out his presence before your mind, catching a sense of that hypnotic essence. You often realized all the hairs on your arm standing up, or a tingling sensation in the back of your neck, breathing getting a bit harder, only to quickly locate him in your eyesight.

"Lord Kenobi." It is said in a contemptful respect, a greeting and a goodbye. “Goodnight, my Lady.”

You didn’t even bother to mutter a proper response, and frankly, the Duke didn’t wait for one either. So, all your focus can be reserved on the man in front of you.

You raised your arm as if intending to extend it so he could complete his small tradition of placing a kiss on the back of your hand, like he has done every time your paths crossed, even multiple times a day (that’s exactly how you noticed it was more than a simple salutation), (honestly, you liked it, his daring movement revealing a lot about his nature), only to flick it to reopen your fan. The gentlest gust of it licking your skin was more than enough now, making it all too pleasing to watch him save himself with a deep bow of his head, the annoyance quickly turning into a satisfied grin, like he didn’t expect anything less from you.

“That looks even more beautiful in your hand.” He pointed at it, but his eyes wandered all over your body. You did the same, though there was little notice, his usual beige suit far too familiar. Your focus was always on the fact that he looked so good in it, taking in the broadness of his shoulders, or his defined arms exquisitely pronounced over the fabric.

Right. So it was his gift. Why did you ever entertain other possibilities?

You weren’t going to disappoint him by mentioning it is only here because your panicked maid accidentally packed the first item she saw, for you never took anonymous gifts. You didn’t need the attention they brought.

"And I couldn't thank you enough for it. I can practically name it my savior tonight." You answered, making a show of lavishing yourself in the stream it creates.

"My only source of pride is the fact that it perfectly blends with the rest of your attire. Now, I can proudly say I know your taste."

Classic Obi Wan. Even his compliments, far from usual, borderline scandalous. He's been peppering you with them ever since the start of your friendship and you were never immune to them. You outright enjoyed them. Especially now, they didn’t help the simmering tingles forming at the depths of your belly, amplified by weeks of solitude. “Only a part of it I’m afraid, but you’ll learn the rest in no time, don’t worry.”

“Can’t wait.” He grinned and scanned the room for prying eyes. Finding none, he made himself more comfortable by your side, hoping to spend the rest of his night with you.

“I didn’t expect to see you tonight.” You admitted, somehow managing not to sound like you’re overly joyous of that not happening.

“I could say the same about you.” Was that excitement, or disappointment in his voice? Was he planning of politely ravishing other women, when you were not present to entertain him? Something told you those were not among his intentions, the smile on his face too honest, his twinkling gaze focused solely on you.

You tilted your head and curled your lips. Touché. “It is nice to attend the ball your acquaintances are throwing, even if you arrive late. But for you, sir, I'm afraid people will actually think you're looking for a wife."

He rolled his eyes. There was a hint of offense in them just at the mentioning of the subject, but the playful type, not the exasperated type he uses for others.

"Curious. The diamond of the season is also here. Isn't it strange that she still hasn't found someone, it's nearly the end of the season?" You inhaled sharply, dramatizing further. "Do you have something to do with it, Lord Kenobi?"

He scoffed, the impossibility of it reflected in his voice. "The diamond of the season?-"

"I thought you deserve nothing less." You explained, but he interjected.

"I'm only interested in one diamond." He said, initiating intense eye contact.

It was your turn to scoff, and run away from his gaze. "I was never the diamond."

"Only because you saw how better you were than the rest, and fled just before the start of the season." His eyebrows were raised, begging for a denial.

"I had planned that trip months ago." You simply stated. "And I came back halfway through summer, didn't I?"

"Just like now."

"Do I need to remind you who you have been spending time with since June?"

"And where were you coming from tonight, ending your visit of- how long was it?"

"I am fond of traveling. Balls and banquets can entertain someone so far. " You shrugged, "Lord Kenobi, are you trying to say that you missed me?"

"I could never claim otherwise."

That was true from your perspective as well. All these years of constant traveling, and this year was the first time you missed what you left behind at home, even during the buzzing, pretense-filled months. None of it seemed that intolerable, and somewhat fun, if you dare to admit. You knew this impression was his doing, and now after your while spent apart, the feeling came back tenfold, almost making you squirm over such loose confessions.

That was it. That was the turning point of the night.

“Truth be told, the night is going much better than I dreamed of, and I almost regret forgetting my dance card.” You raised your chin, and sent him a look. “Would you be so kind to help me find it?”

You could basically see the gears turning, a fire behind his eyes, fueling the desire growing in the depths of your belly. His gaze was piercing, even after he’d long decided, the truth known to both of you. Your heartbeats must’ve been visible, you imagined, and felt it skip a beat as he licked his lip. “Lead the way.”

Now that’s, how you ended up here.

However, as you look down at his face, the story gets blurry, perhaps outright loses its importance, abandoning your mind. His hair is tousled, a rebel strand in front of his eyes, and moves with every bounce. Your hands are too busy to hold onto his sweaty chest, slightly tugging on the auburn fuzz. You wanted to do that ever since he took his shirt off.

(Then again, you’re not sorry for the amount of time you couldn’t, drowning in him. The moment you felt his expert lips on yours, all your will to protest anything had died. Later, as his fingers joined the show, you quickly realized you were fine with what he gave, but he, ever the gentleman, let you prevail.)

It is a sight. And the moans that fall from his lips surpass the delicate melody the musicians are playing downstairs in every way, which can still faintly be heard. (You never thought an orchestra would accompany you during this, but here you were. It is a detail you’ll remember with a smile while looking back at it, but now, you couldn’t care any less.)

“You’re taking me so well.” He starts to thrust his hips up slightly, meeting your rhythm, but never overtaking it.

“I know.” You giggle, but the reaction he’s taken notice of is your fingertips digging in further, and your walls fluttering around his cock.

When you start to falter a bit, perhaps due to the fatigue settling on your muscles embarrassingly not long after his words, or his mere presence clouding your brain, his fingers that have been resting on your thighs slowly ascend to your hips. The fingers drenched in your juices, another element that has the coil in your belly tighter. The next few strokes, with his guiding hand, touch something deep inside you, and your jaw hangs open.

“Fuck…” is the only word you can mutter, and he chuckles at it.

“Is that so?” He mocks, but brushes your loose ringlets with a single hand, and caresses your nipple on its way down. The latter shows his true disposition, and that drives you to be more vocal, if you weren’t already.

“You feel… so… good.” You can hardly say, as your puffy clit drag against his skin all so deliciously like this.

He twitches inside you at the compliment, and you throw your head back with a whine. Despite the fact that he would kill to see your face, he doesn’t push, enjoying the state he’s putting you in with his voice. Every praise that falls from his lips earns him a melodic moan, along with the feeling of you tensing and relaxing, always responding to his call in one way or another.

You’re one step away from being a doll at his bend, though you couldn’t care any less, not when you are this close.

He likes it, very very much. Yet, not enough to silence his wishes of how to ruin you, in the best way.

In a blink, you find yourself on your back, and him on top of you. That’s not the first thing you see, though. It is his hand, lifted from wherever it fell, catching your chin to turn your head to him. Sounds of panting are all there is, no movement, no words, not even your rapid heartbeats drumming in your ears seconds ago as if the world stopped for a second.

His thumb caresses your lower lip, and you let it slip in. God, you can still taste yourself. The revelation has your objections at the change dead, your face twisting, yet he tsks thrice, capturing your attention.

“Let me see those eyes.” Obi Wan commands, and you have no choice but to oblige. “You look so good beneath me.”

Somehow, his words have you flushing and squirming as if that was the most inappropriate thing happening in this room. Funny, how he breaks your will, and you let it. Against all the talk of your friendship, until an hour ago, you’d have lashed out at an equivalent demeanor, even said in affectionate terms. (Any other way is simply impossible, anyway.) But, that hour proved itself to be much precious, and now with that glossy gaze, snatched right from the brink of climax, you focus on the doting aspect, how he cannot get enough of the image of you.

You start to writhe, the new emptiness inside you unbearable. “Touch me, Obi Wan…”

He's not proud of the way your begging has his cock leaking, though that hardly stops him. He lives for mutual pleasure, even just yours at the moment, yet you look so pretty like this, grasping the sheets.

"Like this?" He slides his thumb further into your mouth, relishing the feeling of your tongue swirling around it immediately. Or course he wasn't expecting you to suck him off if you didn't want to, nor would he ever ask for it, he can't help but imagine the feeling, his hips rolling in seek of stimulation.

You shake your head, and his finger is freed with a pop. You frown as the sole contact you have with him is lost. It is a warning sign for him, the fragility of your dream-like state, a reminder of how he has to do better, if he wants to take control. As a gentleman, he wanted to give you everything you desired, but since it was your first time together, a terra incognita, he had to be sure of your limits, so he followed your wishes gladly. The wishes which were masterfully balanced versions of both of your needs. The same problem troubled you too of course, but you were a quick learner, a connoisseur of his taste in no time. The fact that it was very similar to yours was an exciting discovery, certainly a pleasant one, and was a great help, so great that it almost felt like cheating. While he took no issue with your tricks; the urge to take you on his terms, the compulsion to show you how he wants to cherish you couldn’t be suppressed any longer. He had to let you know.

He leans in closer, his arms bend as yours find his shoulders like a habit, “Like this?” He murmurs, right before brushing his lips against yours, effectively swallowing your whine. Though it was a sound of protest, all complementary sentiments die when he nips at your lower lip, and you open your mouth, lost in the sensation of his tongue licking yours, and his sweet essence. In contrast to his other needs taken good care of, he hadn’t taken enough of the feeling of our mouths joining. God, he spent hours imagining your mouth, curling into every shape as smart words spilled from it, enhancing his fascination with you. It fires the flames of haze further, even if he’s not actually properly touching you. Your hand roams his neck, then etches itself into his silky hair. You’ve done that a few times now (and found his response most addicting), but it is hardly satisfactory compared to the amounts you dreamed of doing during these last couple of months. You saw him prim and proper mostly, not a strand out of place, making you marvel at its excellence, and the itch to mess it up growing stronger each instance, a stark contrast to your surroundings. Also, there were times the infamous piece fell in front of his eyes, and sometimes even more disheveled than that, riding a horse, enjoying sports with his friends, and once after a bath, when your family visit started a little earlier than planned. You were always admiring the way it reflected light, creating almost a halo around his head, especially in sunlight. It is the first thing your eye is drawn to whenever you’re in the same place, a beacon of sorts. You never thought you’d be this amazed by hair, yet the moans he produces when you tug on it, add to your astonishment, and you’re not sure if you can look at it again, without being reminded of this moment.

He breaks the kiss as for you to catch your breath, for he has long kept you away from it. Still, he continues to pepper you with tons of them, scattered all across your jaw and neck, in search of that sweet spot that has you cursing. It is not a serious journey, in fact, he does more than press his lips against your skin properly, tease you with his open mouth, drag his tongue along the taut muscle, nip and outright bite, once.

“No marks-“ You protest. Futile. You should’ve warned before he started to nibble, way before he sank his teeth, but it has happened after all, and you can already feel blood settling on the sites of his attack. “What I am going to tell my maid now?”

“The truth.” He retorts. “Of how you led Lord Kenobi into our bed, and did dirty, unspeakable things with him.”

That earns him a harsh pull at his scalp, and a pat on his shoulder. He meets with your glaring gaze, and cheeks redder than a minute ago. So, he’s still on your good side. Barely.

“Apologies, my dear.” He takes the hand that smacked him, and places a peck onto your palm before placing it back. You can’t break the eye contact as he does so, something about his appearance, perhaps his position, or the charming contours of his face, or the way he deals with your anger keeps you from kicking him out. Caressing your open legs, he massages them ‘til they relax afresh, squeezing at the soft flesh. You hiss when his movement nears your inner thighs, thanks to his beard, and the climax it brought you. The gesture hints, still, there’s the matter of fire burning in your belly. “Couldn’t resist, you know me. Let me make it up to you.”

He wastes one more second to carve this image inside his head, then fulfills his promise. He likes the way you tremble while you wait, a whimper leaving your mouth at him taking his cock into his hand and stroking it a few times. God, how you wish that was your hand. Damn your stubbornness, and demand for compensation. You put extreme effort into staying still, releasing a shaky breath when he places the tip at your entrance.

Remember when he said “ruin”?

He doesn’t push it in, instead letting it slide up your slick folds, and tap against your clit. You nearly jolt at the touch, yet again tasting bliss, even if it is in mere drops. He repeats the action, and you sob, digging your nails into his shoulders. Maybe you’re the one leaving marks now, but you don’t care. Eye for an eye you can say, in retrospect.

“You’re so wet.” He can’t stop looking into your glistening core. He also can hear it, the squelching sounds echoing at his every movement. He knows you can too, that it calms your nerves, though they act up for different reasons. “All this for me?”

Unfortunately, you are late to realize he doesn’t take your moans for an answer. You can’t help it, you are unable to form words. Even if you gather the strength, they die out at your throat, especially under his piercing look. Fuck, he loves how cockdumb you’ve become for him.

He takes pity on you then, dropping his cock to briefly rest on your opening, and forces his fat tip in.

Your back arches, a throaty sound filling the room. He shushes right next to your ear, in an effort to calm you down as he slips the rest in. It is as if you’re taking him the first time, like you weren’t riding him moments ago.

“Fuck-“ That’s the only reaction, the only answer he needs. You fall back into the sheets, the first time he rolls his hips, and sets a new rhythm, a slow one to kindle the flame once more. Your hair probably getting tangled from the way it’s rubbing against the sheets, and your legs are split wide open. You feel every vein and ridge moving against your walls, the slight resistance disappearing in no time. His chest brushes against yours, and combined with the warmth of his breath, so close to yours, it’s easy to let go of your worries.

This is why you ended up here.

“Faster!” While he already feels great, it’s not the exact pattern to provide that sweet release, not in the timeframe you hoped.

“I want this to last, dear.”

Your eyes roll to the back of your head. A part of it due to irritation. Being subjected to that response before, he snickers to see you’re still you, even when you’re literally fucked out of your mind. As he does so, his lips skim yours. You take it, greedily, one hand first on his neck to ensure he stays, then to his unruly tress, aspiring to compel him into the middle ground. That earns you a few groans, yes, but his will doesn’t seem to falter even a little bit.

Perseverance, is a mutual quality, as you already know.

You slowly release the grip you have on his head, emphasis on slowly. It goes unnoticed, thanks to your timely bite, the same assault he once carried out. You don’t waste the access to his tongue, sucking on it. You’re not sure if his moans are increased in number, or if it feels more because you swallow every single one of them, but the fact that his beard starts to prick your cheeks harder gives you an idea.

Your free hand falls into sheets and slithers across the length of your body. Just a little more- you’re almost about to touch your –

His fingers wrap around your wrist instantly, dragging it up, a little further away from your face. You twist your neck, a wail coming out as you reject his kiss.

Only to be met by the sight of that said fingers running up your palm, and interlock themselves among yours.

Your breath hitches, for reasons unknown to you.

“Ah- ah -ah.” He tuts, though there’s not a hint of disappointment in his voice. “What kind of a gentleman would I be if I let you do all the work?”

You can’t believe one physical contact, and his words, are enough to carry you to that previous peak. Your pussy contracts around him, beyond your control, an indication of your closeness, nothing compared to before.

“Ngh- that’s it.” He encourages, “Just relax and take it.” That’s more sincerity than you’ve ever heard from him.

It goes on and on for a while, him doing exactly what he promised to do, and fulfilling his wishes in the process. He already knows this could go on ‘til morning, and he still wouldn’t be completely satisfied, longing for your presence the second he leaves the bed. Still, he continues, pushing himself to his limit, and that’s getting quite harder when you clamp on him that hard. He feels his cock leaking, begging for that sweet end.

When his arm that’s not supporting his weight travels down, caressing your hip before pressing his thumb to your clit, finally, you reward it with a whisper of his name, a sound he won’t dare to forget. Your back arches impossibly higher, and he has to lean back, abandoning his other hold.

Your limb stays in the spot he left it.

He curses at the realization, perhaps its effect mirroring yours when he first initiated the contact. Fuck, how are you so perfect? He snaps his hips harder, and circles his thumb, feeling it throb.

“Obi Wan-I’m c-“

He loves how your words are cut with the need to scream that you gulp down, only resigned to breathing as your face contorts with pleasure. “Cum for me, love.”

Your moans blend into each other, as he cannot stay still at the feeling of your walls squeezing him so tight. He holds your trembling thigh, fondling the soft flesh, adoring the way it spills from his grip. He doesn’t stop ‘til they settle again once more, and even a little longer than that, pulling out in the last minute to cover your belly with his spend.

That act keeps you from turning to your side, and feeds the desire to hug the sheets, a soft but firm ground for your senses to return. You're not complainant of it anyways, you have a far better view in front of you, defined muscles undulating with each heavy breath, glistening due to the light coat of sweat covering them, lips puffy and slightly flushed with blood, as well as his cheeks. You always thought he was devilishly handsome, but this, this is something else. The world should consider itself lucky, or it would bend to his will just from his looks. Or unlucky, for the honor is bestowed upon a handful of people.

He believes he's blessed with the sight upon him, too. Still holding onto your thigh, he delights in spontaneous tremors that possess it. If he looks closely, he's sure he can see the faint mark he left. Your hair is sprawled around, much in contrast to the delicate up-dos you and every noblewoman fashioned, its most natural form, and the intimacy of it definitely causes a small breakdown. You belong in a painting, depicting goddesses and nymphs, a grace outside the limits of time and culture. Your droopy lids and tired pull at the corners of your mouth fill his chest with pride and more adoration, like after his every successful attempt to elicit a reaction from you. It happens often, thanks to the understanding that grows between the two of you, but every example is still treasured in in his mind.

“Well, I don’t know any better way to spend the night.”

You giggle. “I agree.”

“We should’ve done this before.”

Your lifted brows are the perfect answer. Like it’s that easy.

But he has a point, too.

In the comfortable silence, he gets up from bed, a sigh at the roar coming from downstairs, drowning the music. That’s still going, huh? You watch as he wets the nearest towel, and returns, cleaning the mess with unexpected gentleness that it almost tickles. There’s no aim to steal one more touch at his movements, no personal gain except an easy conscience, and even that is a stretch because it’s most natural to him, his understanding of tenderness.

“Well, thank you, sir.” You sit up, with a yawn, and scooch backward to your pillows as he retreats to give himself the same treatment. “And my nightgown, please.” You point to it, and amusingly follow his subtle headshake, and efforts to hand it over. He hesitates for a second at the last minute, considering rebellion, a last joke. You see it, and snatch the fabric from his grip before he can tighten it. He can feel it sliding over his skin, the light material flying. You slip it on, aware of his voyeur. with a victorious smile cut too short as exhaustion creeps into your bones. You’re no different, in any case, settling into the fluffy pillows, curiously examining each piece of clothing he puts on from afar, the unwritten rule of his habits, his hidden glances at your mirror in a feeble pursuit to tame his messy hair. You’re willing to be charged guilty for that.

He stalls, though, you can feel it after a while, around the time sleep clouds your vision. How could anyone blame him for not wanting to leave, carve your picture to his mind, and calm his yet again straining cock at it?

“You should be going. Servants are going to be wandering these corridors for orders, soon.” Your heart winces at the warning, because he's not the type to need it, or disregard you to put you at any risk. But your cognation runs thin, and he needs to know the dangers he might face.

"True. Right. You're correct." Is that a stutter? "Good night, my lady."

"Good night, Lord Kenobi.

"Glad to be of help in stretching your legs."

The cushion falls short to exactly hit him, but the sentiment is clear.

In the morning, you uncover the reasons behind his diversion.

Bastard signed every slot in your dance card.

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