#bonus points if u get them all

[mintypsii]

author x barista cafe au (sanji is competing against himself)

[kierancaz]

Thinking about a Yuu who loved Greek mythology in their world or maybe jus mythology in general and then when they get to twisted wonderland they’re looking at the ruler of the underworld like “…. That’s just Hades?” And then they learn that Greece just isn’t a thing they’re just like “WHAT DO YOU MEAN ???? HOW CAN U HAVE THE GREEK GODS BUT NOT A GREECE ??? AND WHAT IS UR ZEUS ???? HIS NAME WAS HERACLES NOT HERCULES, HERCULES WAS ROMAN.”

They get to the island of woe and Epel and Rook are just like “isn’t it great that our friends are safe !!” And Yuu is just standing there eye twitching “… this entire island is made out of classic Greek architecture.”

[judicent]

Yeah, I did fill 4 sketchbooks in 4 months so far this year. Huh? Am I gonna post even an ounce of it? Well, you see, I am allergic to my phone, so you will have to come CATCH ME

[mantisgodsdomain]

Winning a prize personally by being someone's "well, this trope isn't usually my style, but i know this author is Really Good at writing so i'll check it out anyways" author

[choccymilk]

i love how everyone is literally *so* careful and empathetic when talking about art like its soo taboo to say art is bad or u didnt like it, or even something like music or movies but then u hear book reviewers and they are like this is literally unbearable and horrendous and boring and the author did this and this and this wrong and its like lmao. I dont disagree like AT ALL btw.. its just funny bc ud think that the same ppl would be like cautious bc an actual real person wrote it and like they prolly poured their soul out to write it and loved it so much and ur just saying its garbage which is totally fair but.. idk why we think thats ok with books but not other mediums like no one is EVER that harsh with other mediums I feel, and books take arguably the most time and energy to create tbh

[nereidprinc3ss]

do you believe me now? | 4

in which spencer reid and inexperienced fem!reader are interrupted at the most inopportune of times. he calls you on the first night of his case. dirty talk turns into a hard conversation. we get a glimpse into spencer's past, and we finally learn why he's so hesitant to sleep with you.

series masterlist

18+ (smut) warnings/tags: dirty talk, phone sex/mutual masturbation, softdom!spence, obligatory he talks u through it, lots of graphic discussions of sex, established relationship, angst (sorrryyy!) a/n: so remember how i said you'd need the bonus chapter to fully appreciate/understand this part? i was wrong!! it will come in handy probably in the next part tho:) also idk how these parts keep getting so long im sorry! anyway, i love you all so bad. thank you for bearing w/ my craziness. PLEASE let me know your thoughts on this part!! i adore hearing from you!! kisses

(also special thank you to @fliesforeyes who convinced me phone sex w/ spence could be done!! i will link his phone sex blurb here :)) thank u binx!!

“Three million six hundred eighty four thousand three hundred thirty two times fourteen million seven hundred sixty one thousand nine hundred seventy one.”

You’ve lost count of how many stupid math questions you’ve asked your human calculator boyfriend, just to see if he can actually do them. Spencer is silent for a second, and you think you’ve finally stumped him. 

“That one is complicated.”

You sit bolt upright in his bed, looking down at him and pointing an accusatory finger. His brows raise at the manic look in your eye. 

“You don’t know.”

“I do know. I meant it would be hard to explain if you aren’t a math person.”

“Bullshit!” You scoff, “you don’t know!”

“It would display on a calculator as five-point-three-eight-eight-E-thirteen. It’s a really big number.”

“Oh, really big, huh?” you mumble, searching for your phone blindly in the sheets and scrambling to open the calculator app. “Um… what numbers did I say?”

Spencer repeats them back to you and you press the equals sign. 

You look at it. 

And then you set your phone down. 

“I was right, huh?” he smiles up at you, probably reveling in your pouty wrongness. 

Too proud to admit it, you collapse on top of him, burying your face in his shoulder. 

“I don’t like this game anymore. What the fuck even is an e? Why are we doing algebra?”

Spencer laughs, brushing your hair aside. 

“The e stands for exponent. It’s to the power of ten.”

“Ever heard of a rhetorical question?”

“Yes, I have.”

It’s hard not to snort even at his dumbest jokes. 

“You’re annoying. Let’s do something else.”

You roll over onto your back again, letting your head flop over to look at Spencer, whose hair is exactly the right amount of messy after a long day, falling in impossibly soft waves over the perfect lines and contours of his face. Despite lounging, he’s still in his suit from work—he’d left Quantico and immediately picked you up. There were no solid plans for the evening, so after both of you pretended that you wanted to go out for a while, you ended up back at his apartment. 

He looks good. Almost too good. 

“Something like what?” he smiles lazily, reaching over and tracing his fingers over your cheek. 

“Something… naked?”

His grin widens and he shakes his head. 

“Me naked or you naked?”

Pretending to think about it, you roll your bottom lip between your teeth. 

“Mm… why not both?”

“Hm. Why do I feel like I know where this is going?”

The mattress sinks underneath your elbow as you prop yourself up, dropping your head over Spencer’s to kiss him. 

“Because you’re so smart, and you think it’s a great idea.”

He entertains your kiss for a moment. Just a moment.

“You sound sure of yourself.”

“Because I am!” You finally give in to your impulses, tangling your fingers in his hair and looking at him meaningfully. “It doesn’t make any sense for us to have not had sex. I don’t care about any of your weird, cryptic moral reasoning.”

He grabs your wrist carefully. 

“It is not moral,” he scoffs. “We haven’t even talked about it yet.”

“Really? Because I feel like we’ve talked about it a lot.” 

He begins to reply, but you realize you don’t want to get into a debate over whether you’ve technically talked about it yet. “I don’t even care! If that’s all that’s standing in your way, then let’s talk about it. Right now.”

Spencer sighs, his eyes darting between yours as he reaches up to cradle your cheek. 

“Fine. But I have things to say you’re not going to like.”

“So business as usual?”

He rolls his eyes. You allow yourself a tiny self-satisfied smirk, forever relishing in his poorly-hidden soft spot for your constant teasing. Spencer ignores this. Which is probably for the best. 

“I know you probably won’t see it this way, but—sex is different than everything else we’ve done so far. It can be really fun, obviously it feels good, it facilitates deeper feelings of connection—that’s all true. Which is why, in my opinion, it’s incredibly important that you be selective with who you sleep with. Because it’s so easy to do something you regret, and sex is vulnerable. It should always be with someone you trust and—and… care about.”

A pink flush stains his cheeks like watercolor as he stumbles over the last few words. It makes your heart flutter against the confines of your chest.

Maybe best not to think about the absence versus presence of certain four-letter words and what they may or may not mean. You’ll move on to more pressing matters and pretend like it doesn’t ache just a little in your whole body. 

You cover his hand with your own. 

“Are you going to break up with me anytime soon?”

Spencer’s eyes widen, filling with genuine horror and confusion. 

“What? No!”

“Are you going to cheat on me?”

“Absolutely not, I—”

“Then I’m not going to regret it. Issue resolved. Moving on.”

“Honey, I just want you to be 100% sure that I’m what you want.”

“Oh my god,” you groan, flopping onto your back once more. “I have begged you to sleep with me on multiple occasions. We have been dating for months and I liked you even longer before that. I think about it literally every time I see you. I don’t know how to be any surer.”

It’s quiet for a moment as you study the imaginary pattern on the ceiling. The rebuttal you’d been anticipating doesn’t come—instead, the mattress shifts next to you. Spencer enters your field of vision, now leaning over you with a little smile on his face that gives you butterflies. 

“Every time?”

“…yes, every time,” you agree, voice considerably thinner than it had been a moment ago. Spencer glances at your lips as he speaks. 

“Interesting. And what is it that you think about exactly?”

You groan again, attempting to roll facedown, but he pins your shoulder to the bed. The way he’s sweetly kissing down your cheek and jaw is infuriating because you know it’s a false pretense. 

“Ugh, I don’t know! Don’t make me answer that!”

“You said if talking about it was all that was standing in my way, we would talk about it. Now I want to talk about it. Come on,” he says, voice low and cloying against your throat as he attempts to tease the answer out of you. “Tell me what you think about when you think about us having sex.”

You let out a shaky breath at the feeling of his lips skimming your neck, hating how easily he can reduce you to this. 

“I… I always wonder what it will feel like. Sometimes I wonder if it will hurt.”

Spencer sighs, interrogation by way of seduction momentarily forgotten. You silently curse yourself for saying something so un-sexy. 

“It might, sweetheart. That’s one of the reasons we’ve held back. I… really don’t want to hurt you. I don’t even know if I can.”

You grab his face in both hands, forcing him to look at you with more confidence than you feel. 

“Sometimes I worry about it, too. But I like you a lot more than it scares me. I still want to.”

He kisses your palm. 

“You’ll be okay. It doesn’t hurt for everyone, and even if it does, you’re resilient.”

“Exactly. So you have to get over yourself.”

Spencer laughs like he wasn’t expecting to, eyes sparkling as he regards you.  

“Yeah. Yeah, maybe I do.”

He’s smiling again as he leans down and kisses you—a slow, lingering thing which tastes like spearmint as you part your lips for him. 

“Please?” you whisper against him after a long moment. He hums, keeps kissing you. 

“What is it that you think you want? You don’t even know what you’re asking for.”

“Tell me,” you beg, chasing his lips. “Tell me what you’re going to do with me. We can talk about it. This is talking about it.”

Spencer exhales deeply, wedging a thigh between yours. Immediately you clamp around it, trying not to grind against him too overtly. 

“You want to know what I’d do to you?”

“Yes—” you paw at his jacket. Surprisingly, he doesn’t stop you from pushing it off. Your heart pounds. 

“Well… we both know how anxious you get,” he muses, pressing his lips so delicately to your fluttering pulse-point in emphasis, and then back to your mouth. His thigh pushes harder against you to supplant the absence of his lips as he speaks, though he kisses you sporadically and between sentences. “You’re hard to get out of your head when you’re nervous, you know that? I watch it happen. One minute you’re with me, and then you start overthinking, and getting self-conscious. The only thing that seems to relax you is letting me touch you—so first I would touch you like I’ve touched you before. I’d make sure you know how pretty you are and how good you deserve to feel.” You whimper inadvertently at his words, arching into him and grinding against his leg as he pauses to kiss the sensitive soft spot below your jaw. “You’re going to need to be really ready to let me in. Do you know what I mean by that?”

As he asks, he pushes his thigh against you harder. Your body responds immediately, arching into him and seeking more friction. When you squeak, he takes it as a no. 

“I mean I need you relaxed and wet. You’ll excuse my crude language.”

You pull at his tie, breathing heavier now and so turned on it’s almost painful. 

“What are you gonna do after that?”

“What else is there to do but fuck you after that?” he breathes. “You want me to tell you how I’d fuck you?”

Something about it makes you whine salaciously. You’ve heard him curse—you’ve even heard him talk about fucking you. But it feels more real now; when it’s low in your ear and you’re covertly undressing him and he’s pushing your shirt over your stomach promisingly. 

“Yes, please.” 

He hums against your jaw, nipping and brushing his lips over the skin as he considers. Leaves you waiting. 

“I would have to take my time with you. You’ll be overwhelmed. I know you think you won’t, but you will. I’m going to have to be so, so careful with you, angel. It’s going to drive me insane. But it will feel good for you.”

“Why careful? I don’t want that.”

He chuckles. A chill runs down your spine. 

“Yeah, you do. You’re going to want me to be careful when I’m—” he pauses, pressing his thumb to your bare lower tummy and dragging up to a spot below your belly button. He presses down lightly again. “Right here. Approximately.”

The surface of the sun has nothing on the temperature of your skin in this moment, as you writhe underneath him in both arousal and embarrassment. Mostly, burning need. You feel almost sick with it. 

“Please don’t make me wait anymore. Just do it, please, Spencer. I need it to be you, I don’t want it to be anyone else. I promise I’m ready.”

It’s silent for a moment. Your heart quickens. You sense his walls wearing away, his instinct to keep you intact for god knows what reason crumbling. He’s finally going to give you what you’ve been begging for. 

Spencer opens his mouth, eyes glimmering—

And then his phone rings. 

You both freeze—he melts dejectedly before you do, more accustomed to an ill-timed phone call and realizing the finality it can present. 

He’s breathing heavily against your neck, as if maybe whoever it is will just hang up. But the phone keeps ringing. 

“I’m sorry.”

Your stomach sinks as he sits up, grabbing his phone from the side table and rubbing circles on your inner thigh as he answers.

“This is Reid,” he says, lackluster. 

If you wanted, you could hear what Penelope is saying—but you don’t bother listening. It’s going to be a case. Spencer is about to leave. The details are his problem. 

“Okay. I’ll be there in an hour.”

He hangs up, tossing the phone onto the mattress and not speaking for a moment, just continuing to rub your leg apologetically. Watching you almost mournfully—taking in your disheveled hair, your likely blown-out pupils, the shirt pushed almost over your chest. 

“I have to go right now,” he finally manages with a heavy sigh, gently pulling your shirt back into place. 

You sit up, shedding all the hopes that had been building for the evening, and try to sound chipper—though all you feel is bitter disappointment that goes deeper than you understand. 

“I know. Go ahead, I can get a cab home.”

He frowns, running his hand over the back of your hair. 

“I don’t love the idea of you standing on the sidewalk waiting for a car in this part of town so late. Do you just want to stay here for the night and go home tomorrow?”

You force a smile. Great. So you’ll be spending the night in his bed after all—just without him. 

“Sure. Thanks.”

“Yeah.”

Neither of you are feeling particularly grateful. 

Soon you’re walking him to his own door. Both of you come to a stop in front. 

“I’m sorry,” he sighs again. 

“Spencer, it’s fine. It’s your job. You don’t need to apologize. You were very clear about this part when we started dating.”

“I know, but… it’s easier in theory than in practice.”

You smile. If Spencer is a reflection of you, it doesn’t quite reach your eyes. His hair is still messy from your fingers running through it and he’s missing his tie. You hope all his coworkers see and feel bad about taking him away from you. 

But it’s not their fault. You just want someone to blame. 

Instead you mould yourself to his body, wrapping around him like you belong there. He returns your embrace, pressing his lips into the crook of your shoulder and rubbing your back in that way he always does with you. 

In that moment, your affection for him becomes so profound it’s like a chemical reaction—everywhere he touches burns and you love him so fucking much it aches in every inch of your body the way your muscles do when you have a bad fever. Love is the most terrible of afflictions, you realize. It is a fever dream. It’s every fiber of your being screaming to tell him how you feel, to beg him on your knees not to go because you love him like a child loves a parent or a bee loves honeysuckle or the ocean loves the horizon. Pared down to your most basic components, the barest version of yourself, you require him. Your soul needs his soul. 

“Spencer?”

“Hm?” 

It’s nothing more than an absentminded hum against your skin. 

“I…”

Should you be looking him in the eye when you say this? Should you say it right before he has to leave? Just because you say it doesn’t change the fact that he’s about to be gone for several long days. Maybe this is a terrible time to admit something that suddenly feels so true and so consequential. 

He senses your internal conflict, pulling back despite your resistance and holding your face between his hands. 

“You what?” He murmurs, soft eyes bouncing back and forth between your own. Fuck—you feel so observed, now. Like he can read your mind. 

“I forget.”

FUUUUUUCK. 

Spencer blinks. Processes. You watch the disbelief crystallizing over his eyes like ice freezing over a lake. 

He knows. 

He knows you didn’t forget, and he probably knows what you were going to say, and he’s going to tell himself he was wrong to spare your dignity. 

Everything hurts when he kisses you. You wonder what regret tastes like. 

“Well, let me know if you remember.”

It’s too gentle and at the same time he can’t hide the edge with all the tenderness in the world. You nod as if in a trance, already looking forward to dissociating as you lie in bed and stare at the dark ceiling.

Two small goodbyes are exchanged, slightly stifled now, as if shared between drunk strangers who have sobered up and are mutually embarrassed about how candidly they’d interacted before. 

You close the door behind him, doing up all the locks, and meticulously flick every light switch in the apartment off before climbing into his bed—though you don’t really feel like you deserve to be there anymore.

But perhaps this is all an overreaction. It’s not like you owe it to him to say I love you, or anything—it was bad timing, anyway. And why can’t he say it? In fact, why hasn’t he said it? 

Maybe you have it all wrong. 

Maybe he doesn’t feel that way about you. 

You fall asleep before you allow these questions to make you sick. 

24 hours go by. 

24 hours go by and you really had meant to leave his apartment—it was just that you woke up late, and your phone was dead so you couldn’t call a car, so you charged it while you made breakfast, and then you ate, and then you decided to take a shower and wash your clothes, and then it was two in the afternoon and you hadn’t left yet and you decided to walk to the store and replenish the groceries you’d used up. 

Maybe you got a bit distracted looking at flowers and other beautiful things at the market and by the time you got home it was 5:00, so you decided to wait until seven to skip rush hour. And then eight, just to be sure. 

Before you know it, it’s midnight, and you’re dozing off in his bed again (teeth cleaned with the brush you’d bought at the store—maybe this whole situation hadn’t been entirely unwitting on your part.)

Throughout the day, you tried to let all your anxiety about the previous night melt away. If it’s something that needs to be addressed, Spencer will address it. Everything will work out in the end. That thought is how you’re able to doze off. 

You’re almost asleep when your phone lights up and begins buzzing on the side table. You wince as your eyes open, not adjusting well to the harsh bright display and unable to discern who’s even calling you at this hour. Stupidly, probably because you’re half asleep, you answer without checking. 

“Hello?”

Your voice is groggy, quiet with sleep. 

“Shit, did I wake you?”

“Spence?” you whisper, stomach flipping at the sound of his voice on the other line. You feel caught, still sleeping in his bed. 

“… yeah,” he chuckles. “Did you not check who was calling before you picked up?”

“I was asleep,” you pout. “Kinda.”

“Okay. Go back to sleep, honey. We’ll talk tomorrow.”

You sit bolt upright, phone balanced between tense fingers and speaking directly into the microphone. 

“No! No, I’m awake. What’s up? Why did you call?”

A longer stretch of silence—you’re too sleepy to comprehend what it might mean, though never too sleepy to worry about it. With a pang of pain, you recall your strange goodbye, the words you hadn’t said. 

“I just needed to hear your voice,” he sighs. You frown, staring at nothing in particular in the pitch black room. 

“Oh. Is everything okay?”

“As much as it can be.”

“Right.”

More quiet. You chew on the inside of your cheek, stricken with a sudden feeling of awkwardness that you haven’t had with Spencer in a while. 

“I’m sorry… I don’t really know what to say.”

“That’s okay,” he says, and you can hear the smile in his voice which makes you feel a bit better, “why don’t you tell me about your day? Or you can absolutely go back to sleep, if you’re too tired.”

“Don’t ask me about my day,” you whisper, flopping down on the bed once more. Shame seeps into your voice. He laughs. 

“What? Why?”

“Because if I tell you you’re going to think I’m super weird and you’re going to break up with me.”

Laughter tapers off into gentler tones. 

“I already think you’re super weird. It’s actually one of your most attractive qualities.”

Blood rushes to your cheeks. 

“But it’s like… borderline crazy.”

Immediately, he replies, “for better or worse, I also frequently find myself attracted to crazy.”

“Thank you for calling me crazy and super weird,” you grumble. 

“I also called you attractive twice. Tell me.”

When his tone takes on that easy, assertive quality, and it’s sort of raspy and low because it’s late and he’s been talking all day, and you can hear the lazy smile on his face—you imagine him laying on his hotel bed, arm slung over his eyes in the dark as he grins into the microphone—you have a very difficult time saying no. 

“Fine. Guess where I am right now.”

“Um, I would hope you’re in bed?”

You smile to yourself, basking in the victory of successfully throwing him off his game even slightly. 

“Guess whose bed.”

Silence. 

“What an interesting question.” That cocky smile, the low drawling is back, and you chew on your lip, ignoring the shiver that runs down your spine. “If it’s not mine or yours, we’re going to have issues.”

“But if it is yours? You’re not going to call the police on me?”

“Why would I call the police? To tell them there’s a pretty girl in my bed and I don’t want her there?”

“To tell them your psychopathic girlfriend broke into your apartment and might be holding hostages there.”

Spencer laughs; a brittle, drawn out thing, flat and quiet as the desert.

“If you were a psychopath, calling the cops would be a waste of time. I would handle you myself.” The idea of being handled has your thighs clenching. “But—yeah, don’t invite anyone else in.” More humor finds its way into his voice, momentarily relieving some tension that had sneakily begun to build. “Having people in my space makes me anxious.”

“But not me?” Your whisper is half flirtatious, half insecure. Spencer’s reply is soft, as if he’s picking up on this from hundreds of miles away.

“No, not you. You are always the exception.”

“Good,” you say, cheeks aching as you half-bury your warm face into his pillow. “Because I made myself really comfortable. You have a nice shower, by the way.”

Spencer groans. 

“You’re killing me.”

“What? What did I do!”

“Don’t talk to me about my bed and my shower. I might start to think you’re intentionally being a brat.”

“You asked me about my day! I’m just telling you what I did!”

But you’re also intentional teasing him for sure.  After a pause, he sighs in defeat. 

“You’re right. I did do that. Tell me what else happened.”

“Well,” you begin, all too eager, “I had to put my clothes in the dryer after I got out, so I borrowed some of yours. But then they were way comfier than mine, so after I went to the store I put them back on, and—”

“Okay.”

“Okay what?” you frown. 

“Tell me what this is.”

“I—I don’t know what you mean.”

Lying to a profiler is usually pointless. 

“I’m not stupid, sweetheart. Tell me why you keep talking about my shower and my bed and my clothes.”

Caught red-handed. Your skin heats up. 

“I don’t know. I miss you.”

He hums in a way that blurs the line between sympathetic and patronizing. Even through the phone you can feel the bass of it in your bones.  It changes the frequency you’re vibrating at. It’s hypnotic. 

“But that’s not really why you’re being intentionally provocative, is it?”

“No,” you admit quietly. “I’m still upset you had to go last night.”

“So you’re frustrated and you’re taking it out on me?”

Your brow furrows. Well, when he puts it like that…

“I’m not taking anything out on you.”

“I think you are. And I don’t appreciate that, because I’m on your side, honey. Do you think I prefer being in a hotel bed by myself or being in my bed with you?”

Somehow, he makes you feel like a scolded child. But he makes it appealing in ways you don’t understand. 

“Your bed with me,” you murmur, skin prickling with the coldness of his absence even as you curl under the blanket. 

“Right. So why don’t you tell me what I can do for you right now, instead of punishing me for things that are beyond my control?”

“I wasn’t punishing you,” you mutter. 

“No? You weren’t intentionally talking about using my shower and sleeping in my bed and putting on my clothes so that I’d have to think about what I can’t have right now?”

“I—”

“Believe me when I tell you I have been thinking about what I can’t have, all day. Your efforts are entirely redundant and you can’t say anything about yourself that is even close to as dirty as the frankly disrespectful thoughts I’ve been having about you for seventeen hours.”

The lack of air is making you so dizzy your vision goes gray at the edges. 

“What… what thoughts?”

“None that you need to concern yourself with.”

“You can’t just say something like that and then not tell me!” you insist. He’s obviously giving you a taste of your own medicine and it’s fair but it doesn’t mean you have to like it. 

“I can do whatever I want,” Spencer corrects cooly in a way that pisses you off beyond belief because he’s right. It triggers some adolescent immaturity within you—a desire to get back at him, so to speak. He wants intentionally provocative? He can have it. 

“Fine. Then so can I. And there’s nothing you can do to stop me.”

“I wouldn’t dream of it even if I could.”

“Spencer,” you warn. “If you don’t tell me what you were thinking I’m gonna—” you look around the room for ammo. “I’m gonna look through your nightstand!”

“Go ahead. I’ll warn you, it’s not very interesting.”

“Sounds like what someone who has something hide would say,” you mumble, crawling across the mattress through tangled sheets and using your phone flashlight to open the drawer. 

Spencer is patient and silent as you take in its contents—a small blue leather-bound notebook (full of what looks like Russian), a fountain pen, a glasses case, various kinds of vitamins, and—

“Spencer Reid,” you say, dragging out his name and pretending nothing is fluttering in your stomach, “what are these?”

“I don’t know. I can’t see what you’re referring to.”

“Take a wild guess.”

“Oh, I have one. But I’d like to hear you say it.”

You realize you may have gotten yourself in deeper than you meant to by going through his stuff. Well—they don’t say karma is a bitch for nothing. 

“What are you doing with a box of condoms?” 

He chuckles and you feel it in your whole body, warm as you stretch across his mattress and eye the box like it might jump out at you. 

“Those are years old. I’ve used three since I bought them.”

“Don’t tell me that,” you whine. “I don’t wanna think about all the other women you’ve seduced.”

“You wanted them to be for you, huh?” 

You flush. Honestly you hadn’t even thought about that. 

“I… I don’t know. I kind of just assumed…”

It’s silent for a second and you frown, realizing you hadn’t even considered protection when you’d imagined sleeping with him before. 

“You assumed what, honey?” he asks, voice soft. 

“It’s dumb. I can’t tell you.”

“You can tell me anything. I’m not going to think it’s dumb, I promise.”

You chew on your lip, letting your eyes unfocus on the box as you muster the courage to be honest. 

“Whenever I imagined it… we didn’t… use anything.”

The words make you cringe even as you’re saying them. So does the quiet that follows. 

“When you imagine us sleeping together, we don’t use a condom?”

“Ah!” The phone drops to the mattress as you cover your ears and roll onto your side, curling into yourself once more. “You didn’t have to say it! You make me sound so weird!”

“It’s not weird,” he laughs, because he can probably imagine exactly what you just did, “I just wanted to make sure I was understanding you. That said… we would definitely use protection.”

“Do we have to?”

The quiet words take even you by surprise—and they seem to stun Spencer as well. Several false starts are punctuated by a sigh as he gathers his thoughts. 

“We really should, baby. That’s the kind of thing we need to take seriously.”

“But you’re… you’re good, right?”

Thankfully he picks up on your meaning. 

“I am. I wouldn’t touch you if I weren’t.”

“And I’m good. So...”

“Hm. And has anyone ever explained to you where babies come from?”

You groan in frustration. 

“Spencer, I’m being serious! There are ways to negate that.”

“Honey,” he murmurs, “I understand that. But it would be irresponsible of me to say yes. We can talk about it in the future, but—”

“I’m telling you it’s already dealt with. The chances of an accidental pregnancy are slim to none.”

The new information hangs in the air for a moment until Spencer speaks—to your surprise, his voice is low and humorous. 

“That is… good to know. But even so—I’m setting a dangerous precedent if I always let you get exactly what you want.”

“Is it such a bad thing that I just wanna—I wanna know what it feels like? You don’t want that?”

“That’s not what I said. I want to know exactly what you feel like. I’m just hesitant to give in so quickly because it makes me look weak.”

You laugh breathlessly, caught between being turned on by the first part of his sentence and amused by the sarcastic second half. Your thighs clench and your hand absentmindedly wanders between them. 

“You know what I was thinking about?” you ask. Spencer hums curiously. “I was thinking about when you let me, um… when you let me touch you how you touch me.” He hums again, but you can hear the amused curve of a smile in it now.

“When you had your mouth all full of me and you looked so pretty?”

“When I—yeah,” you agree, too caught up to deny his compliment as your fingers brush your most sensitive spot through clothing. “And  how you got me all messy after. And I was wondering what it would feel like… inside me.”

He sucks in a breath. Your legs brush against each other and you twist slightly as you pretend like you’re not touching yourself just a little bit. 

“You want me to come inside you?”

“Yeah,” you whisper, brain short-circuiting at the way those words sound in his voice. 

—

On the other side of the line, Spencer isn’t doing a fantastic job of thinking clearly either. His dick is half-hard already and it’s only getting worse with each little noise you make that you don’t seem to realize you’re making. 

“Really? That would be very messy, baby. I’m surprised that’s what you want.”

“But I really want it,” you breathe. He’s not even looking as he slips his hand under the waistband of his pajamas and palms himself, his other hand rubbing tiredly over his face as his phone rests on his chest. This was not how he intended for this call to go, believe it or not—but he’s here now. 

“Yeah? Is that why you’re touching yourself right now?”

You go silent—which is more or less exactly the reaction Spencer had been expecting. Patiently he waits for you to deny it, in three, two—

“’M not.”

Now, he could explain how he knows that’s a lie. How your breathing pattern changed, and your voice got softer and airier, and how you started speaking with smaller words in fragmented sentences. But he doesn’t feel like explaining any of that. 

“I know that’s not true,” he murmurs. “You know what? It wasn’t fair to get you all worked up last night and then leave. I don’t want you frustrated, honey. I want you to do whatever you need to do.”

You make a little gasping noise, and Spencer can imagine the way your back would arch when you did it. His own hips buck slightly as his dick twitches under his fingers. 

“Where are you touching?”

“Um—over my clothes.”

Cute. 

“Go under them for me. Tell me how it feels when you’re touching yourself like that.”

It takes a moment, in which all he hears is the rustling of fabric, until you’re whispering, “feels… it feels good. I wish you were here.”

He inhales, freeing his cock and squeezing the base. 

“I know. Just listen to my voice, pretty. I’m right here.”

Spencer allows himself a few slow tugs as he imagines what’s happening in his bed. You make a squeaking noise, like a held-back moan, and his eyes screw shut. 

“I need them inside,” you whine, and he knows you’re referring to his fingers—the ones currently stroking his own leaking cock. 

“You can use your own, just give yourself a minute first. Remember what I said about needing to be ready?”

“I am ready—” judging by the surprised chirp you interrupt yourself with, you’ve proven yourself right. What surprises Spencer is the weak sound of disappointment you make next. “Spence, it doesn’t feel the same.”

“We’re different sizes, honey. Your hands aren’t as big as mine. But you can still make it feel good.” 

He almost says, 90% of the nerves in the vaginal canal are located in the lower third—in other words, within approximately 2.36 inches from the opening, which you can most certainly reach—but he refrains. He’s not sure if that’s good dirty talk. 

“You have a really sensitive spot about three inches up, right in front. It’s going to feel a little different than the rest of you when you touch it. I want you to try and find it for me, okay?”

“Okay,” you breathe, ever-eager to please even from a great distance. There’s a quiet moment. “I can’t—I don’t think I can r—oh,”

The moan is so pretty Spencer can’t help speeding up the motion of his hand, hissing slightly as his fingers brush against the angry tip with every pump. 

“Did you find it?”

“Yeah,” you whine, a weak, high-pitched thing. “Oh my god.”

“Be gentle,” he warns with some effort as his own hips jump slightly. “You’re really sensitive there. If you’re not careful you’ll make yourself sore.”

“I don’t care—holy shit—” the way your voice rises and tightens to a squeak at the end has Spencer moaning as he fucks his fist. A black hole forms and warps time, turning every minute into a second and every second into an infinity until he has no idea how much time is going by. He drags his thumb over the tip, smearing precum over his cock and whining as his jaw drops at the feeling. “Oh my god, Spencer,” in that same strained, high voice. “’M gonna—ah!”

He gets the general sentiment. 

“What, baby? You’re gonna make yourself come all over your fingers? Is that what you wanted to tell me?”

“Mhm!”

“Yeah, I bet you are. It feels good, huh?”

“Yes,” you cry. 

“See? You don’t need my fingers to feel good. Mine barely fit, you know that? I have to hold your fucking hips down whenever I put my fingers in you because you can’t stop squirming. I don’t know how you think you’re going to take my cock.”

“Spencer!” 

He knows. 

“Come, baby. Let me hear you.”

The delicate sounds you make as you bring yourself to orgasm tip him over the edge of his own—grunting as he comes all over his fist. 

“Jesus,” he strains under his breath, the word dragging out into two long syllables as his hips buck involuntarily and cum drips down his knuckles. He’s lightheaded and he’s created a mess and it all happened so quickly. “Fuck,” he breathes, a rasping chuckle as he reaches for the towel he’d dropped on the bed after his shower earlier. “You conscious over there?”

“I’m conscious,” you slur, breathing heavily. “I’ve never had an orgasm by myself before.”

“Are you proud of yourself?” Spencer smiles, wiping his hand off and making sure he’s otherwise clean. “You should be. I am.”

He’s barely kidding. 

“I’ll be proud when I can do it without your help,” you tease. 

“But I’ll always want to help you with that.” His already warm face flushes further as he goes over what he’d said. “Sorry I was so vulgar.”

You laugh. He blushes even more. 

“Are you? I think you secretly love being vulgar.”

“I don’t know why! I have no idea where it comes from. I would never speak that way in any other context. I should probably work on that. Sometimes I look back on the things I say and I’m genuinely appalled.”

“Well, don’t stop on my account. Personally I enjoy it.”

“Yeah, I think I’m corrupting you. You probably shouldn’t enjoy it.”

The truth of it weighs heavy on his mind, but he’s pretty sure his voice alone doesn’t betray that and you can’t sense it through the phone. 

“Oh, my god. Do not do that falling on your sword shit. I like being corrupted by you. If you stop I’ll be very upset.”

“Well god forbid you get upset,” he teases gently. Idly he wonders if the reason he’s suddenly feeling so depressed is because his cortisol levels were already high from the case, and then he jarred his system with an orgasm, spiking his dopamine and ultimately causing it to plummet without the oxytocin release that post-coital physical contact would usually provide. 

Or if it was something else. It could also be something else. 

For the millionth time, he wishes he was with you. Part of him also wants to go to sleep. But mostly he wishes he was with you. 

—

A comfortable silence settles over the conversation. In the ditch between words, you’re mapping constellations in the texture of Spencer’s ceiling. If you squeeze your eyes almost shut, you can imagine it really is the night sky. You can imagine he’s really here. 

You think about what he said—his apparently mindless vulgarity. Did it mean anything? Or was he just rambling to get you off?

“Spencer?” you murmur. 

“Yeah?”

“Can I ask you a question?”

He sounds earnest, perhaps a little tired, as he replies, “always,” through the little metal rectangle on your chest. He likes me and my questions are important to him, you repeat to yourself silently as you work up the strength. 

“If Penelope hadn’t called, last night… were you going to have sex with me?” 

Your lip tastes like his toothpaste as you chew it. Spencer sucks in a breath of air like he’s about to speak—and lets it fizzle out like foam on a carbonated drink. 

“I don’t know,” he finally admits, lamely. “That wasn’t my plan, but you can be extremely convincing when you want to be.”

“But why can’t it be your plan?” It’s an almost whine, pouty and childish—but the next words are quiet and pained. “Is it something I’m doing wrong?”

“No, no! It’s not you. You’re perfect. It’s—it’s complicated. It’s a me thing.”

Such trite words—such a ubiquitous, simple excuse sounds almost comical from his mouth when you know he’s capable of all the eloquence in the world. It’s not you, it’s me. It’s ridiculous. 

“Okay. Let me simplify this for you,” you begin with an uncharacteristic assertiveness that surprises even you. “I want to have sex with you. Either we are going to have sex or we’re not. So your future branches in two diverging paths. In one, we have sex, and then we keep having sex. In the other we never have sex ever. If you want to ever have the privilege of fucking me, then we just have to do it. Otherwise it simply will never happen. And I’m not eternally patient, Reid.”

Go me, you think, slightly breathless from your monologue. 

“Watch your mouth,” he says dryly. Something about the chastisement makes your stomach flip and your whole body tingle. “When you talk to me you call me Spencer. I will also accept Doctor Reid.” You wrestle down a smile, refusing to let him change the subject. A delayed sigh from him sobers up the conversation. “You know what I want. I’ve been very clear with you about that. But…”

“But…?”

Another sigh. A deeper, shuddering sigh, like his breath is searching for balance. Like Spencer is in a precarious position for which he was unprepared. 

“But—but to be completely honest… I worry that you’ll regret choosing me. And I know virginity is a social construct and I’m not implying that your worth will somehow be diminished if we have sex but regardless of my views on virginity as a construct, having sex for the first time can be weird and scary and it’s incredibly intimate and I don’t want you to regret your first time like I regret mine because you chose the wrong person.”

The words come at you so rapid-fire it takes you a moment to process them. And aside from all the ways you want to reassure him that you will not regret choosing him—that you could never, ever regret anything about him—one thing stands out. 

“You regret your first time?” 

Something between a scoff and a sigh travels through the line. You can tell he’s not annoyed at you for asking so much as he’s flustered himself with all his own words as he occasionally does. 

“Yeah. Yes. Sometimes I do. The person—she didn’t… like me as much as I liked her. And I was really, really in love with her, and she knew that and she knew she wasn’t in love with me—or maybe she was, I don’t know—but my point is, when one person likes the other more than the other person like them, things get complicated. And however you feel about me—that’s fine. It’s fine. I don’t want you to feel bad if we don’t feel exactly the same way about each other. I understand that this is newer for you, it’s different, I—I just don’t want us to do something we can’t undo because I don’t want to relive that. And I’m not saying it will never happen but I just don’t want you to make this choice when… when right now, I think we’re in different places emotionally. Regardless of that, I want you to choose the right person. I don’t want you to choose me and then find out that we feel differently after we sleep together and leave you feeling like you signed up for something you didn’t understand. I’m sorry. Maybe telling you this is selfish. But I’ve been thinking about it and trying to ignore it and I think I just have to be completely honest.”

Your ears ring like Spencer just fired a blank right into the microphone. Like you just got backhanded across the face and now you have the world’s worst case of whiplash. 

Every finger is numb and your blood is so cold it feels blue as it slithers thick through your veins. 

What you want to do is scream. What you want to do is go back to last night and stop yourself from almost telling him I love you, slap yourself and keep your cards a little closer to your chest. Because now he knows, and he doesn’t feel the same. 

You want to scream bloody murder. 

But when you try, when you unhinge your jaw and part your chapped lips and expect a bellow to come hurdling up the corridor of your throat with so much force it rattles your bones, all that falls out is a small, “oh.”

Maybe that’s worse. 

Spencer doesn’t reply. You hate yourself for feeling obliged to fill the silence. 

“I didn’t realize you…”

I didn’t realize that you don’t love me back. 

I didn’t realize I like you more than you like me. 

I didn’t realize you’d tell me to masturbate in your fucking bed and then drop this not even five minutes later. 

If Spencer Reid was able to talk to you over the phone with the same amount of affection and familiarity as always, like everything was still okay, knowing you love him and he doesn’t love you the whole time, he is not who you thought he was. 

“I’m sorry,” he lamely says again, like it could ever help. 

More silence. Now you can’t bring yourself to speak, so Spencer does. 

“I realize how awkward this is. I really didn’t mean to put you in this position. Especially not over the phone when I—god, I’m stupid. I’m sorry. But can we—can we talk about this in person when I get back? Please?”

Is that what grownups do? Is the proper etiquette for him to take you out to dinner and explain why he’s not in love with you? Is he going to break up with you?

What does one even wear to a breakup date?

“Okay,” you whisper. Your eyes sting, your everything stings, like you’ve been wrapped in a shroud of briar. Sheets that were soft a moment ago feel like sandpaper on open wounds. You feel like an open wound. 

Spencer sighs. It’s a sound of relief that confuses and hurts you even more. 

“Okay. I—okay. Thank you. Um—I’ll let you go back to sleep, now.”

“Okay,” you repeat—as if any of this were okay. But you can’t keep being that stupid girl who feels it all so much harder, who loves easily and begs to be loved in return, too naive to assume that someone who treats her so kindly might not reciprocate her feelings. It has to be okay, because if it’s not, you’re silly and dramatic and you’re just proving him right. 

“Goodnight,” Spencer whispers, and you can’t help but feeling that it’s the last time you’ll ever hear those words from his mouth while you’re in his bed. And he’s not even fucking here.

So you pull the blanket a little higher. You let your tears stain his pillow because they’ll be invisible by the morning. It will be like they were never here. Like you were never here. 

“Goodnight.”

-

part five

[keyotosprompts]

all the time, all of mine ᝰ.ᐟ

affection prompts – tad bit suggestive

⇴ person a misses person b (even though they're right next to each other) so a takes b's leg and pulls it over theirs

⇴ person b is putting their necklace on person a, and stares at them for a hot minute after it's put on. then person b starts leaning into person a and pressing kisses onto their neck.

⇴ "c'mon, you can stay in for five minutes. please?"

⇴ person a is sitting on person b while they are making out when person a feels something below them. cue person b looking up with a sheepish smile while hiding in the crook of person a's neck.

⇴ person b is running their fingers across person a's hair. across their bare back. along their arms. along the back of their thighs. gentle, light touches along their body while person b is is kissing your shoulder.

⇴ "do you like that?" "i like anything you do."

⇴ "c'mere..." and their arms are WIDE OPEN.

⇴ grabbing them by their waist to kiss them. bonus points if the kiss is heated and there's heavy breathing involved.

⇴ thigh in between the legs.

⇴ person b can't get keep their hands off of person a, so they have to be around a all the time. always brushing their teeth together, cooking something together, lying in bed together.

⇴ person a wants to be even closer to person b, so they take their hands under person b's shirt and grabs their chest.

⇴ or... alternatively, person a wants to tease person b with their cold hands, so they go under b's shirt and press their freezing hands on their chest.

⇴ person a and person b are walking together in a busy street and person b holds onto person a's arm just because.

⇴ person b sees person a looking drop dead gorgeous and their first instinct is to go up and (gently) grab person a's face to kiss them. like... person b desperately wants to make out rn.

⇴ "i only want to see you right now. i really miss you." and person a is like "you just saw me yesterday"

⇴ person b is lifting person a's chin up and they brush their thumb across a's cheekbone before person b kisses them.

⇴ holding hands while on a rollercoaster. person a is screaming for their life while person b is gazing at them and trying not to laugh.

⇴ person a and person b are hanging out together, and when they both find something funny, person b wraps their arm around person a's neck and looks down at person a to see their smile.

⇴ staring into each other's eyes while it's completely silence. they don't need words, eye contact is all they need.

⇴ person b lifts up person a while they're hugging.

⇴ person a is so cute that person b has to fight off the urge to start pressing kisses all over their face (person b loses btw)

⇴ "hey, i think i can fit over here in this corner." "what are you, a plant?" "maybe. you shine on me every day, after all."

⇴ "you drool in your sleep," whilst wiping said drool off the other person's face (can u tell i've been hyperfixated on pjo)

[kiss-inthekitchen]

bonus! i said i wasn't posting anything new til this weekend but i just got up to s5 e2 and spencer reid with that lollipop has made me insane, here's a drabble i just wrote in like 30 mins. barely edited, hot off the presses, hope u like

sucker

~500 words

Who the hell let this man have a lollipop in the workplace?

You could kill Garcia. 

You’re trying to act normal– trying so hard– but he looks so good. His hair is longer than it's ever been, so beautifully curly at the ends and you just know it’s soft. You need to test the theory but you can’t and it kills you on even a regular day. 

But today is a thousand times worse. There’s something about Spencer since he got shot, he just seems to give less of a shit. It definitely shouldn’t be as attractive as it is. 

It doesn’t help that you’d come in to tell him that you all had to be on the jet in thirty, and then he and Garcia had started asking questions, so Spencer’s been looking up at you from his chair for the past few minutes and something about it is getting to you. 

So yeah, you’re trying not to get so immediately caught for staring at Spencer as he wraps his lips around the lollipop again, but you’re also not about to miss a single second of it. You’re not about to do yourself that disservice. 

You clear your throat as the news broadcast about your unsub ends. “Right. So we’re going to Louisville.” 

Spencer moves to get up, finally. Popping the candy in his mouth, he waves one– large, long-fingered– hand at Garcia and reaches for his crutches. 

What is wrong with you?? You need to get it together before you’re stuck on the jet with pretty boy and all of the most astute people-readers in the Western hemisphere. 

God, you hate your life. If the universe was kind and loving it wouldn’t have had you meet Spencer in the behavioral analysis unit. If the universe was kind and loving, Spencer would be yours already. 

This was some kind of cosmic joke. 

“You good?” he asks. He took the lollipop out of his mouth to speak to you, his eyebrows raised in the most annoyingly attractive way. 

“Yeah?” you scoff, as if he’s the one being weird. 

“Okay. Cause you told me we have to leave and now somehow you can’t keep up with the guy on crutches,” he muses from the doorway, while you haven’t moved an inch. 

This man. If he wasn’t injured you would hurt him. You might just do it anyway. 

You shoot him a sarcastic smile. “I was being polite.” 

“How chivalrous of you,” he says, putting the candy back in his mouth and crutching his way down the hall without a second glance. 

You look at Garcia, and it’s a mistake. You can read her like a book. “Don’t,” you warn, pointing at her, and she presses her lips together but is clearly smiling behind them. “And I am so mad at you for that,” you add, gesturing after him. 

“Wh– he just took one, it’s not like I–” 

“Save it!” you call, already halfway out the room. You hear her laugh behind you, and shake your head. You love that girl, but she was not doing you any favors. 

Fuck it. 

You breeze past Spencer in the hallway. “Keep up, pretty boy.” 

You hear his indignant, playful scoff behind you, and you can’t help the smirk that creeps onto your face.

[boorines]

Could I please request HHU with keeping their s/o close in a festival/crowd? how they hold them like are touchy and possessive or are YOU the one keeping them from getting lost

this is so cute ☹️ hope u like it anon!!

—

SEUNGCHEOL

seungcheol doesn’t really hold onto you at all, he’d let you do your own thing at a music festival or event.

he does, however, keep glancing at you to make sure you’re doing okay, if he sees the cup of lemonade you’re holding in your hand running low he’ll wordlessly slip away to get you a refill.

he’d let you enjoy yourself freely. however, if he spots someone attempting to get too comfortable with you, he’d silently slide beside you. either resting a hand on your waist or acting as a barrier between you and the stranger. his heart swells when you smile up at him gratefully.

WONWOO

he’d hold your hand in a crowd tightly. more for his sake than yours. your tendency to wander after things that catch your attention has been a source of worry for wonwoo one too many times.

he’d let your hand go only when you’re planted right next to him and chewing on the stick of cotton candy in your hand, the other on your phone busy documenting your 3rd snack of the day. wonwoo would offer his arm to you as you both start walking again, making sure your arms are linked tight while you work your way through the cotton candy.

and when the crowd finally thins, he’d slip his arm around your shoulders and you’d slide your hand into the back pocket of his jeans. and this is how you’d go about the rest of your day.

MINGYU

this one is protective like it’s a full time job. at a party while you mingle with other guests he’d have his eyes trained on the people around you, scanning the room for any unwanted attention.

mingyu would hold both of your drinks in his hands, not trusting other people to go near what you’d been sipping on throughout the night. if you needed the bathroom, best believe he’d be standing right outside.

but he wouldn’t be overbearing, choosing to keep an eye on you and your surroundings while you freely chat to others and dance to the music. sure, he’s a touchy boyfriend, but any skinship could wait until you two were home. for now he’d just be on guard as he watches you enjoy your night.

VERNON

hand holder #2. he’d have your hand in his all night, especially considering you were the only reason he’d come to the market in the first place. as you make your way through the crowd, vernon is behind you the entire time, fingers interlocked.

he wouldn’t interfere beyond gently tugging you away from objects you may bump into or picking fluff out of your hair. he’d be content just letting you do your thing and tagging along.

keeps your hand in his even when the crowd thins. not for worry of you wandering about, but just for the comfort of knowing that you’re beside him. bonus boyfriend points because he’d smile sweetly into the camera when you ask him to, despite being in the middle of a busy market.

[vivwritesfics]

Hi it’s j aka @piastrification and i see u are taking smut requests so: jealous!max??? Maybe bc daniel’s getting too familiar wt u but max isn’t ur bf? More of a situationship

Bonus point if daniel was flirting with u to rile max up and is smug with the results

hello ily (also may have written more of a fwb sorrrrrryyyyyyy i blame the beer)

warnings: smut, spanking, fingering p in v, drunk writing lol

Max and Daniel were good friends. The best of friends actually. They knew almost everything about each other. So, when Max started sleeping with the Alpine driver, Daniel was the first to know.

He'd thought that they were cute together, even before they had found out about them.

But then he spent months watching them dance around each other. It was cute and disgusting and he loved and hated it all at the same time.

Daniel took things into his own hand. "You should kiss me," he said to her and she raised her eyebrows at him.

"Danny, what the fuck?" She asked with something of a laugh as she looked at him. But she turned to wave at the crowd as the drivers parade happened.

Daniel looked at Max and then quickly back at her. "Or we could go on a date."

She gave him a disapproving look as she moved closer to him. "Daniel," she whispered, her head against his shoulder. "I know you know what's going on with Max and I."

"Can't blame a guy for trying," he said as she stood up straight once again.

But Max had seen the entire thing. He glared at them as Lando tried to talk to him. Oh, she was in for it later.

And she really was. Because, not only was Max angry, but he had also won the race (they tended to fuck once he had won the race).

Normally, when Max fucked her after a win, it was sweet and happy and, somehow, cute. But this time things were aggressive. Max pressed his lips to hers as he backed her into his hotel room, his touches searing.

It was intoxicating.

"Fuck," he hissed and pressed his lips to her neck. Max left dark marks on her skin as he pushed her down into the bed, his hands pulling her shirt up.

she was more than happy to take it off, not quite used to this max. But she loved this Max.

The Max that had her over his lap, spanking her ass as he growled something she couldn't decipher. The Max that pushed his fingers through her folds, his thumb pressing against her clit.

He had her on her knees as he pushed into her, gripping her hips in a way that was bound to bruise. But it was gonna bruise so good.

Max fucked her, snapping his hips against hers. He fucked her in such an aggressive way, his pace bruising but so fucking good. "Don't fucking flirt with him," he growled as his pace sped up.

she clenched around him, crying out at Max's bruising pace. It was so easy to cum around his cock when he was fucking her like this, in a way she wasn't used to but she fucking loved it. Loved how rough he was being. But he'd never hurt her.

She came around him and Max slowed down. "Dont." He thrust into her. "Fucking." He thrust into her. "Flirt." He thrust into her. "With." He thrust into her. "Him." He came inside of her, breathing ragged as he leaned forward, against her back.

"Fuck, Max," she whispered as she pulled away from him, laying her body flat on the bed. "That was incredible."

Max let out a huff as he laid beside her. "You're not gonna flirt with Daniel again, are you?" He asked, staring at her.

She couldn't stop herself from laughing. "I wasn't flirting with him, dummy," she laughed and crawled closer to him.

[nvuy]

Boothill is a “your pleasure is my pleasure” kind of guy do u agree 🎤

mdni. im snatching the mic. i got carried away ty anon for giving me an excuse to ramble about this loser.

he takes pleasing you very seriously. this is serious business. it’s like his day job.

he’s half-convinced he was given a second life just to cross paths with you, so once he’s got you, he’s not letting you go. not for a while, at least. he’s stuck to your hip like glue. wherever you go, he’s most likely right next to you.

he’s always making sure you’re catered to first.

it’s the same in bed.

he’s extremely touch starved, so while he’s got his hand between your legs, he’s also busied himself nuzzling his cheek to yours to feel you helplessly panting against his skin. or, his ear is resting against your heart. whatever works for him in the moment.

he’s absolutely smitten with how warm you get. he’s always, always, pressing himself against you one way or another. just touch all over his face, please and thank you.

he’s all for kisses too. sometimes, when he’s having a bit too much fun, he’ll get all mushy and gross. not that he already isn’t, but it somehow gets worse.

he’ll bite too. not enough to make you bleed, but enough to leave an angry mark for the next few days.

actually, he just nips you all the time. it’s a weird thing he does. don’t point fingers in his face. he’ll try eating them. he’s very strange in that way. sometimes you can be gesturing at nothing while you talk, and if your fingers get too close to his face, he’s trying to nip at them like a teething puppy. you got used to it.

great tongue too. bonus points because it’s actually real. he works his magic with it, but only after you beg enough. you gotta work to get your hands on the merchandise. his mechanics are expensive, so play nice.

if we’re getting into unserious business, the robocock is great fun. it’s got smooth ridges and it’s cold. probably customisable, too. it’s definitely possible, but whether he’s gonna wander up to some poor mechanic and ask them to add some special features… well.

either way, your pleasure is always his priority. his hobbies consist of biting every single exposed expanse of your skin and exploring new ways to make you squirm.

it’s bad enough you having to deal with this lump of steel and scrap—frankly, he doesn’t even understand what’s so appealing about it—but if you enjoy bouncing on his lap, go ahead. do it all night for all he cares. as long as you have that pretty dizzy smile on your face by the end of it all. it makes him melt into a puddle of liquid metal knowing how good he makes you feel.

he’s also VERY susceptible to puppy eyes. they’re your greatest asset, and his biggest weakness.

you figured that out after you pleaded with him to put on these clothes you bought him (and, yep. these clothes have just as many cut outs as his usual attire). you can also use them if you want to do his hair. please convince him to wear it in a high ponytail more. he has such a nice face, and it also stops his neck from overheating. those poor fans need a vacation.

it takes some convincing, especially when you show him the hair tie is actually a red sparkly ribbon. you’re going to ruin his tough guy persona. but he’ll drop anything for you, so he’ll comply. on the condition that you give him smooches afterwards. it’s also an excuse for him to indulge in how your fingers feel against his scalp.

puppy eyes, crying, begging, whatever, usually get people he’s apprehended nowhere. he doesn’t care for theatrics. not at all. a criminal is a criminal at the end of the day.

but you? aww, how can he say no to your angel eyes? wanna fuck his face? you didn’t even have to ask! just watch the teeth. and feel free to pull his hair. wanna ride him until he short circuits? sure! if you can keep up. he’s all yours.

and when you’re done, his aftercare consists of coddling and pinching your cheeks. he’ll prattle on about nothing. the subject will change to gushing over how pretty you look in his bed, to the weather tomorrow, to how he misses the taste of spaghetti. he’ll even kiss all over the marks he’s left on you. probably kicks his feet too.

he’s still so energetic it’s mind-baffling. he’s so casual about it too, acting as if he didn’t beg for you to cum on his face just ten minutes ago.

but that’s robot stamina for you. or maybe it’s just a boothill thing. who knows?

after a while he’ll calm down. i still haven't decided if he can sleep, but once you’ve fallen asleep, he’ll lay next to you and draw patterns on the nape of your neck with his fingers.

[urfriendlywriter]

prompts for your characters having a crush:

(no because 9, 16, 20, 21-- I'D KILL FOR IT TO HAPPEN TO ME :') (feel free to usee and tag me when yall writeeee :) )

tries to deny it. tries to undo it.

"yo, you seem to like [name]?" "SHH, WHY WOULD YOU SAY THAT SO LOUDLY??"

they're having a crush on you and they offer to help you a lot!

"you know I'm always there for you, right? :)"

that 0.001 second of eye contact when they catch you staring at them. WHAT YOU DIDNT NOTICE WAS THEIR SMILE AFTER!!! (which means they've a crush on u too dumb bitc- CHILE ANYWAYSSS)

bumping into each other in the hallways

slightest of physical contact and it sends you reeling into another universe

them being so oblivious and continuing to do all the adorable things they do

OR they know what they're doing because they fell for you first. like leaning over you to hear you better, cupping your face to take a fallen eyelash!!! OR patting your head often :))

hugging and hearing their heart beat rise

thinking they have a contagious laugh

them trying to confess to you but you're so oblivious it hurts!!

"[name], what do you think of us?" "us?" "you and me, us, love."

avoiding them to stop your feelings from growing further

"you've been avoiding me." "someone's got a braincell."

"we're not like how we used to be, [name]." "my bad for catching feelings. don't worry I'll get rid of it-" and they get kissedddd "took you so long to confess, love :)"

craning your neck to see if they're there (bonus points if they're already looking at you)

having a good laugh together!

walking home together and your hands graze e/o's

^ and they slowly take YOUR HAND IN THEIRSSS W RIZZ FR

"he is sick so i spent the night in his.." ".... YOU ARE CRAZY WHAT DID YOU DO?? ARE YOU IN LOVE [NAME]??"

"you have pretty eyes." "oh? oh. i- thank you? °\\°"

feeling tingly around them.

using codenames when talking about them with your friends!

"hey, are you sure your crush on 'pineapple' is one sided?? they look at you with a twinkle in their eyes."

[mistydeyes]

AAAAA I HAVE AN IDEA OKAY can u pls do ghost with a veterinarian reader? Bonus points if she’s also a dog trainer that trained task force 141’s K-9 unit for them so all of the dogs love her and she gets scary dog privileges

thank you for requesting anon! loved researching the role of a veterinarian in the forces :) hope you enjoy reading!

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summary: Simon is the definition of providing "scary dog privileges" and he's happy to be dating the Army's veterinarian who has a soft spot for him and dogs.

pairing: Simon "Ghost" Riley x fem!vet/dog trainer!Reader

warnings: swearing, mention of wounds/violence

a/n: omg did you know in pharmacy school we actually learn how to prepare and counsel pet owners! in one of my classes, i learned how to compound a cough syrup for a cat and an analgesic fur cream for a dog :)

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Your pleasant dreams were rudely interrupted by the obnoxious blare of your alarm. Rubbing your tired eyes, you groggily turned over. Despite your boyfriend being on a regimented schedule, you could never relate. “God you need to teach me your ways, Simon,” you said into your pillow, almost as if he was in the room. But as you got out of bed, you faced the disappointment that he was still on deployment. As you dressed for the day and fastened your hair into a bun, you tried to go over your agenda. The morning was filled with vet clinic planning and clinical meetings. You cringed at the thought. It was honestly the worst part of your day. After lunch, you had two patients to follow up with after some shrapnel wounds gained on the field. Just two German Shepherds who were always well obedient for you. You knew they’d be getting some treats today. Finally, your day ended with a combat fitness test. You had perfected this over the years and knew the handlers and canines were up to the challenge.

The morning had gone by slowly. You sipped your coffee as you exchanged ideas with the supply department and pharmacy. They were preparing for a month-long deployment and along with human patients, the pharmacy took care of the working dogs. After three hours of revising, you finally had a full plan and med list. You could feel your phone buzz but as you saw the examination room with a returning patient file on the door, you decided to look at it later. You took your time to examine the dog's coat and checked on the progress of her stitches. “She’s healing perfectly, private,” you smiled at her handler as you gave the canine a treat. She nodded before leading the dog out of the room. Just as you were about to check your phone, you ran into your other patient for the day. Hopefully it isn't something important, you thought to yourself as you gave a similar examination. With the final few sentences, you finished your charting for the day. You sighed contently but soon groaned at the gentle sound of your watch beeping. You closed your office door before running off to your final assignment for the day.

“Alright we’re done with combat PT for the week,” you commanded as your regiment of soldiers and canines relaxed. After two hours of running through the course and showing the basics of taking down an enemy, you felt like they were satisfactory for the time. This was one of your better commands and the dogs had performed beautifully. They would be ready in a matter of weeks, right on schedule. “Be sure to give your companions a treat before you return them home,” you said and the group dispersed. You stretched your tired limbs as you saw them walk back to base. “Just another day in the Veterinary Corps,” you sighed. You loved your job but you realized after a few years that it was more of a balance between training the working animals and their handlers along with the clinical side. You were in the middle of a 15-week-long session to prepare the dogs for the field and the handlers were giving you a headache.

You shielded your eyes from the fluorescent light as you entered the base. “Long day, Captain?” one of your techs asked and you nodded. “Only eight more weeks until I get my evenings back,” you smiled as you walked over to the office space. “I got a question for you,” he continued, smiling at you. “A few of us are going off base and–“ Before he could finish, he stopped in the middle of his sentence. His gaze turned down the hallway as you heard heavy footsteps approach. “Lieutenant Riley,” he said officially and you turned to see Simon approaching. You smiled at him as you heard your tech quickly wish you a goodnight. “You’d think he saw a ghost,” you joked as he walked up to you. Despite his balaclava, his eyes crinkled with a smile. He shrugged and you avoided the urge to reach up and kiss his cheek. “You don’t answer your phone,” he observed and you remembered the text from earlier. “Sorry, long day,” you said sheepishly and he nodded as if you provided a satisfactory response.

“Didn’t realize you were back so soon,” you said and returned his smile. “Me either,” he replied, “found out this morning.” That must have been him this morning. You muttered an apology and he waved a hand passively. “Anyways, I got a surprise for you,” he said, a hint of cheer in his voice. You raised an eyebrow curiously. “You? You have a surprise for me?” you said in disbelief, “Must be a special day.” Simon shook his head at your antics, letting out a chuckle. He motioned for you to follow him and you walked in step. You made casual conversation about your current group in training and the good visits from some of your patients. “You still give them treats after?” he asked, shooting a glance at you. “Still do,” you said cheerfully “not much has changed in 3 months, Simon.” “You spoil them,” he joked back, rubbing a hand along his sore jaw. Must’ve been one hell of a mission, you thought. You continued chatting until you heard the familiar padding of footprints on the base floor.

“Is that who I think it is?” you said excitedly and soon your favorite partner came running towards you. The handler, also a close friend, tried to wrangle him but Riley slipped out of his grasp. In a flash of tan and black fur, Riley rubbed his head against your leg. “Riles! You’ve gotten so big,” you cooed as you brushed through his coat. Despite being named Riley out of his litter, you loved the almost human-like nickname. You petted him affectionately, bending down to greet your longtime friend. “Heel, Riley,” Ghost commanded and Riley sat down obediently. “Oh stop it, Lieutenant,” you responded, hitting Simon’s thigh and encouraging Riley to come back into your embrace. As you showered Riley in love and belly rubs, you heard Simon tell the handler that he would make sure you returned Riley at the end of the night. The private nodded and continued to his own quarters.

“You have enough puppy time?” Simon joked and you shot a look at him. “It’s never enough with Riles over here,” you said happily, continuing to pet him. “Riley did a great job on the field, Price was impressed,” he complimented and you couldn’t help but beam at his words. “Well Price should know I train the best of the best,” you remarked as you looked back down at the wagging dog, “and he is one of the best.” After another fifteen of you playing around and Simon getting in some pets of his own, it was time to bring Riley to the kennel. He looked tired but happy as you walked through the base. You held the unlatched leash in your hand as Riley obediently walked in between you and Simon. “Always such a good boy,” you hummed as both you and Simon brushed his fur.

When you reached the kennel, you quietly opened Riley’s cage to not wake the other animals. He turned around a few times, trying to find the most comfortable position. “If you come by tomorrow, Laswell is considering bringing Riley and Apollo on our next mission,” Simon offered, putting a hand on your shoulder as Riley laid down to rest. You waved to her before you checked all of the dogs were returned and happy. “I’d like that,” you smiled into his touch as you walked out, “Do you know how long you’ll be gone this time?” “Probably 6 weeks max if we get the job done,” he said gruffly, averting his eyes from you. Even after years of familiarity, Simon always hesitated to talk about the job. You nodded and closed the kennel for the evening. It was quiet as you walked back to your quarters.

“I won’t be leaving for another week,” he spoke up, voice echoing in the empty hallway. You turned to him with a smirk on your face. “Oh really?” you questioned, putting a hand on his cheek. His eyes flashed around but you laughed as it was late and the coast was most certainly clear. “I would enjoy some company, would you?” you flirted. Simon grunted but you were prepared to draw this out of him. “Hmm, what was that Lieutenant Riley?” you teased before he coughed out a sheepish “yes.” You teasingly beckoned him to follow you. He let out a dry laugh before following at your heels, just like a loyal companion.

[miupow]

big cock! hyukka with a sweet virgin reader. bonus points since he’s a little perv. like you and him are dating, he’s so sweet and attentive, will do anything for his sweet baby. he gives you innocent kisses, warm hugs, flowers and little things that make him think of you. he’ll also sniff your panties and jerk off with them, nuzzle his face into your tits when cuddling and pretend it’s just because he was sleepy, accidentally brush his face against your clothed pussy when he uses your thighs as pillows.

when you agreed to lose your virginity to him he’s elated but it goes away when you say “too big” through little sniffles. “that’s okay, it’s okay angel,” he reassures you. “just the tip, promise,” and he does just the tip, fucking into you shallowly. It’s addicting the way your tight little hole wraps around his head. he’s already telling himself he’ll be your first and last. hyukka tries, he really tries his hardest but you’re wet and he’s dribbling, it’s so slick, it would be so easy… with a smooth trust he bottoms out, your puffy pussy gets stretched around him and you cry out. “couldn’t stop it!” hyukka defends himself. “slutty pussy was sucking me in, it wasn’t me baby. see,” he pulls put to sink back in. “fuck…look at that, s’your fault baby,” he whispers against your lips. “little virgin cunt so tight it doesn’t want me to leave.” and if hyukka says it then it must be your true since your sweet boyfriend loves you so much.

@tigerhoshi25 ANNIE YOURE GONNA MAKE ME LOSE MY MIND i love when you come into my inbox you blow me away every time ilysm

i’ve been gatekeeping this one for a while because i just didn’t know how to respond. this ask legitimately left me speechless and on the floor

cw// smut, virgin!hyuka and reader, fem!reader, virginity kink, size kink, dubcon elements, kai is kind of toxic

BIG DICK PERV HYUKA YES 🙏🙏 i’m willing to die on the hill that is kai w a virginity kink, i know the idea of taking a cuties virginity would turn him on sm hehe >< esp if he was a virgin too!!

he’s such a sweet perfect boyfie in every way 💗💗 tries to hide his pervy tendencies the best he can, but he just can’t help it!! he’s buying you flowers and taking you out on the sweetest dates, gives you gentle kisses and the tightest hugs, tells you how amazing u are all the time >< but he feels guilty cos he’s also stealing ur panties when he’s left alone in your bedroom, fucking himself n his plushies to the thought of ruining ur virgin cunt <3 it’s all ur fault! you’re just so cute and sexy in ur little skirts and your big sweaters, makes him so hard at just the smallest flash of your chest or upper thighs hehe ^^ sometimes if he’s lucky he can even see ur cute panties when you bend over!! has to rush to the bathroom to cum thick hot ropes all over his fist hehe

he would never be the one to initiate sex for the first time, he’s too shy!! but when you bring it up, all nervous and blushy and making his cock throb he jumps at the opportunity!! so so quick to bend you over on his bed n rut up against ur soaked panties.. you trust him, right?? oh, but he doesn’t have a condom,,, it’ll be okay, he’ll pull out, he promises! just let him fuck you..

oouuu but your pretty tears and your pathetic squeaks of “too much, too big!” when he first pushes his cock into your virgin hole.. he can’t stop himself! shushing your cries as he keeps pushing in, stretches you open past your limit, you feel like he’ll split you open,,, oh but it feels so good when he starts up a rhythm, thrusting hard against your cervix n fucking your dripping pussy so good >///< you cant beg for him to go slower, gentler anymore, feels too good to speak!!

it’s all your fault that he ends up cumming hard in your throbbing cunt, paints your gummy walls white with his seed <3 you were clenching so tight around him, sucking his cock in so greedily! he couldn’t possibly pull out when your little virgin cunt was so tight and begging for him to stay inside <3

[a-hazbin-reader]

Hey‼️

Soooo I was wondering if u could maybe possibly write an alastor x reader where reader has a secrets admirer and alastor is super jealous but he can't show it bc they're technically only friends and acting protective would be weird.

Bonus points if the read is completely oblivious to his jealousy and eats the snacks from the gift baskets all the time, right in front of him, and wonders why his eyes is twitching so much.

Pleaseee?

👀 I don't have time for this but-

Alastor X Reader Headcanons

✅️Romantic

❌️Platonic

TW: Alastor being a red flag fr

Description: ☝️⬆️

What does Alastor care if someone wants you? He has no interest in taking you for himself. Nope. Not. At. All.

Would laugh if anybody tried to claim he felt something for you other than mild fondness

It's just been a particularly annoying few weeks because of all the gifts being sent to the hotel with your name on them, from some persistent admirer

So he does his best to convince you that they aren't good enough for you

Alastor feels his mood sour when he hands you a bouquet of flowers, your face lighting up at the sight of them as you hold them like they're precious

He misses the way your smile falters a bit when you read the tag, a small part of you hoping they were from the demon in front of you instead

"Another lackluster gift from what must surely be the most lackluster admirer on this side of the pentagram. Just look at how wilted those flowers are already!"

You shake your head and toy with the petals on the flowers, picking off the dying ones delicately

He loves me... he loves me not...

"Oh hush, it's rather darling that someone took time out of their day to give me something so thoughtful.."

You walk away to put the bouquet into a vase so you miss the twitch in Alastor's eye, the tight clenching of teeth and fierce grip on his staff

"Thoughtful? Those are yellow roses! Yellow roses stand for friendship, not romance! You can do so much better!"

Or another time, you offered him a chocolate, munching away on sweets while holding a heart-shaped box

"Are you confessing to me? You shouldn't, I'm quite the heartbreaker just so you know~"

He regrets saying the words the moment they leave his mouth, but they're the only thing keeping a blush off his face, taking a chocolate to shut himself up

You only hum and roll your eyes, putting a hand on your hip as you shake the box at him, mostly all an attempt to get his eyes on the candies instead of your blushing face

"No, my secret little lover dropped off a bunch of these and I can't possibly be expected to eat all of this myself, now can I?"

The sweet treat suddenly feels bitter in his mouth and he wants to rip up the box in your hand

"Oh, so that's why these taste so uninspired! Most likely store bought instead of homemade, such a shame."

You only snort and shake your head, popping another chocolate into your pretty mouth

"Who makes homemade chocolates anymore? Let alone take time out of their day to have them delivered to me?"

Alastor is embarrassed by the warmth and genuine emotion in his voice, his smile softening as he looks you over

"Someone who cares about you enough to recognize you're worth the effort, my dear."

He leaves quickly to avoid any further embarrassment, blushing deeply and sliding the rest of the candy boxes into the trash on his way out

"A-Alastor!!"

"I'm simply doing you a favor, my dear!"

He doesn't see your sputtering and blushing as you try to comprehend what just happened

Alastor can handle the flowers, chocolates and all other sorts of gifts but when the letters start pouring in?? He's about to lose his mind

It's been at least three letters a week, and he's sick of finding them outside the hotel. He actually rips up the ones he gets to first

He finds Charlie and Angel leaning over your shoulder and reading a letter in your hands, a soft blush on your face

Charlie was cooing over how sweet the letter was while Angel was obviously teasing you, making your blush deepen

"And just what is that in your hands, my dear?"

You jump and try to hide the letter but Angel quickly snatches it away to keep reading it, laughing as he does

"Toots here got another love letter from her secret admirer~ They think she's just the most precious babe around~"

Charlie is squealing and fanning herself with her hands as she jumps up and down, making you groan and hide your face in your hands

"Isn't it just so romantic? They're really head over heels in love with her!"

Alastor feels his eye twitch as he snatches the letter from Angel to read it over himself, ignoring the noise of protest that comes from you

Finally, he glances over at you, crumpling the letter up and ripping it into pieces in front of everyone

"Well now! That was about the worst thing I've read all day!"

It felt good to rip it up, picturing it to be your admirer instead

You stand there in shock, eyeing the bits of paper then Alastor, Angel and Charlie slowly backing out of the room only to peek their heads back in

"They... they said I was beautiful."

Well... now he feels a little bad...

He recovers quickly though and wraps a casual arm around you, guiding you away from the mess as Niffty runs in to clean it up

"That's exactly what they wrote in the last one! It's nothing new, I'm afraid! Truly, you deserve better than that!"

You pout and lean your head on him a little, trying not to look disappointed about the letter

"Yeah? And just what do I deserve?"

He grins at you and leans in, pulling you closer to him

"Let me show you, my dear~"

You simply roll your eyes as you let him lead you out of the hotel on a walk, enjoying the weight of his arm around you

There's no more secret admirer after that, which suits you both just fine

Here~

[ventismacchiato]

40.5 behind the lens — fuck me like i’m famous !

BONUS CHAPTER 🔞 NSFW

content warnings — semi public sex, hickeys, biting, blowjobs, untouched cumming, degrading, leashes, grinding, oral sex, top scara

word count: ~2.4k

notes; my attempt at gender neutral smut, when he’s fucking you it can be…ykw either 🐱 or 🍑…wtv u want! 🤞

no plot just porn so feel free to skip this chapter

That Friday would have been a normal stream like any other week. Your camera was on, the game loaded and ready to go as you talked to your chat. It was going great as usual.

Well, apart from Scaramouche eating you out from underneath your desk.

“Thank you for the donation,” you smiled, albeit strained. Your sweats had been tugged off, bare thighs against the cushion of your gaming seat as Scara’s head was buried in your sex. His tongue working around it caused obscene sounds, which forced you to raise your voice to try and drown him out. Everytime his tongue slid across your soaking sex it caused your legs to tremble ever so slightly.

You let one hand wander under your desk, your nails digging into his scalp to reward him as he moves his lips off your sex and towards your inner thigh. At this point you were biting your lips as you tried to focus on your stream, a heat pooling in your stomach as Scara quickly lifted your legs to rest on his shoulders.

You had to hide your gasp as your knees almost hit the bottom of your desk, his warm tongue working its way back onto your sex. His cheeks, which were usually so pale, were now flushed red as he looked up at you. A bit of spit had spilled out from the corner of his lips as he sucked on your sex, wet sounds almost failing to be concealed by your nervous laughs.

Impatience grew between the both of you as you could feel yourself getting closer. The ring hanging on Scara’s lips felt cold against your sex as he tilted his head, gathering more access to you.

“I think I’ll have to end the stream early today,” you swallow, “I’m not feeling too good.”

You bit the inside of your cheek as a wave of responses came in, your fans wishing you well as you bid farewell. After a few minutes you shut the camera off and looked down at the sight before you.

“Can I have you now?” Scara asked, a lazy grin adorning his face as he removed your legs from his shoulders and came out from underneath the desk. He unceremoniously discarded his pants and belt as he did so, wiping your pre-cum from his lips.

Your expression was nothing short of captivated as Scaramouche slid into your lap, knees on either side of your thighs. It’s a tight fit on the leather chair, but it’s hard to care when his hands grab your waist to steady himself and god , they’re so slender and firm as he slides them underneath your shirt.

A moan easily slipped out of your lips, proving your sensitivity to his touch as Scara smirked at your reaction.

“Be quiet baby, don’t want anyone to hear this, yeah?” he murmured, tapping on your chest.

“Shut up,” you huffed, hands slipping around his waist to steady Scara.

“Watch,” he instructs, taking your hands off his waist as he makes his way to unbutton the top of his shirt.

You lean back obediently, moving to keep your hands on the arm rests but you couldn’t control your fingers from twitching as Scara slides the button-up off his shoulders, collarbone on display for you.

Your stomach churns as the sight of Scara teasing the hem of his top, his hand sneaking underneath all while maintaining eye contact with you before finally letting it fall off.

You breathe out audibly through your nose. Scara sitting atop your bare legs was almost enough for you to cum right then and there.

“Scara,” you whine, “This is unfair.”

“Watch.”

So you did.

Scaramouche was always snarky and playful when you both grew overly competitive while playing video games, but now he moved diligently, not letting you get a single touch.

He moves his head down and brings your hand to his lips. You both make brief eye contact before his lips meet your palm, trailing kisses alongside it before bringing your index and middle finger into his mouth.

Your gaze hardened as he swirled his tongue around them and pulled his lips back, a trail of saliva in his wake.

You’d had enough of just watching by then, moving your hand from his grasp to grab the back of Scara’s neck before you tug him close. Your eyes meet for a second before your lips do. His kisses weren’t gentle but they weren’t rough, it was possessive to an extent and it had you tugging on his dark locks rather harshly.

The position was awkward on the small chair with your bodies angled towards one another, but that didn’t matter since all you could focus on was the pair of lips moving against your own.

He pulls back, sucking on your bottom lip as he did so.

“How bad do you want this?” he mused, his voice a shadow of his usual condescending tone.

“Please,” you breathe, a heat pooling in your stomach as Scaramouche pulls off your shirt with expertise. It had you a bit envious to see him do it so quickly but that feeling dispersed when you felt Scara’s warm hand palm your chest as he took his cock out, now sitting ready against his stomach.

Without warning he shoves his fingers roughly into your mouth, the tips of his fingers just reaching the back of your throat.

“Spit,” he ordered, his dick still sitting straight up.

It was odd being given orders for once but you didn’t push it away as you did what you were told. Once again, a string of saliva left your lips as he pulled his fingers away. Instead of bringing it to your hole immediately, he brought it to his lips, his tongue licking around his own fingers and the remnants of your saliva while maintaining eye contact.

Within a blink, his fingers were inside you and your body surged with pain as two fingers went in and out of you. Your hands gripped the seat’s armrests as Scaramouche didn’t show you mercy and quickened his pace, his head coming down to suck the skin on your neck.

You bucked your hips up as Scara’s fingers went in and out, matching your rhythm. Your right hand found Scaramouche’s back as you steadied himself, dragging your nails across it as you did so.

Your neck was littered with his marks as he lifted his head once more, inserting a third finger with a gleam in his eyes.

Your sweats and underwear were pooled by your feet and you felt on display as your camera was only a few feet away, but you didn’t care at all as the pain seamlessly transformed to pleasure.

You reached down to use your free hand to pump his cock, body jerking this way and that as Scara had to keep himself steady which only made you go faster.

“I didn’t say you could do that,” Scaramouche teased, lifting his lips from your neck and removing your hands from his cock. He removed his fingers from your hole, much to your dismay, and dragged them along your cheek, your own juices staining your face.

“Stay still like the good whore you are,” Scara hummed, inserting his fingers once more, you could only buck your hips up in desperation for any friction. You could feel your hole tighten around Scaramouche’s fingers and a feeling rise from your lower region.

“I’m gonna cum, Scara,” you groaned, the material of the leather chair digging into your skin. Your eyes fell shut as you felt Scara slow down his pace.

“I can't have you do that so quickly,” your boyfriend murmured, removing his fingers slick with your insides and moving away.

Scara removed himself from your lap and got down on his knees once again to spread your legs open.

“Have to prepare your tight hole,” he murmured, voice muffled as his head was in between your legs. You felt his tongue slide up your thigh, leaving a trail of kisses until Scara reached your hole. His tongue swirled the edge, slowly and knowingly, as you let out a cry of pleasure. The feeling only increased when Scara traced a wet circle around the rim just before he dipped his tongue in.

Before you could release right then and there he removed his mouth from your hole and sat back up, crawling atop you and lining his cock with your hole.

“Fuck,” Scara groaned as he slid in, his cock inside you. The tip of his hard cock made contact with your entrance, unprotected.

Scara let himself simply sit inside you as you grew used to the feeling, not thrusting just to edge you even more.

“Are you gonna be good for me and be loud?” Scara asked, taking his belt from the floor of your room and snaking it around your neck. “Hm?”

“Yes,” you whimpered as Scara clasped the belt around your neck. He grabbed the loose end and used it as a leash to tug on it and bring your head closer to him.

“Good,” he praised, one hand on the belt and the other on your waist, “Nice and loud.”

You didn’t get a chance to respond before Scara was pulling out only to slam right back in again. He rocks back and forth as he does so, his nails digging into your bare waist. It was difficult to control yourself when Scara was buried so deeply inside of him.

You moaned in arpeggios as Scaramouche lifted himself out of you once again, his tip trailing the inside of your thigh only to thrust back into you again. It was rough and harsh, just like you both preferred it to be.

“I’m gonna fill you up at this rate,” Scara muttered, causing you to buck up your hips to meet Scara’s with every thrust, “You’re ruining me.”

Your head was tugged from the belt Scara held in his hands, your faces a mere inch away from each other when Scara locked your lips together. You felt the taste of metal as Scara’s tongue explored your mouth, the knowledge of the male above you having a new piercing only fueled your desire.

You could feel your orgasm nearing, your hole was tightening around Scara’s dick. You were just a hole at that moment and would let him do whatever he wanted to you at that point. The sounds of skin on skin filled the room as he kept slamming into you.

You pulled back, a string of saliva connecting your guys’ lips as Scara’s head tilted back.

“I’m gonna fill you up to the brim,” was the last thing you heard as Scaramouche rode out his orgasm. Your hole clenched as you felt warmth ooze inside of you, causing your eyes to fall shut and legs to tremble.

Scara slowly pulled his cock out of your entrance, cum spilling out as he wrapped his palm around his cock to get the excess cum off. Once Scara’s fingers were covered in white he reached up to shove his fingers into your swollen lips.

You were in a daze as you tasted Scara upon your tongue, swallowing every last bit as your lover tucked his cock back into his pants before looking down at your lower region.

“I can’t allow your filthy cum to get on your nice seat,” Scara slurred as he leaned towards you while inserting two of his fingers once again into your hole, “It cost far too much, how would I explain that to the cleaners?”

Scaramouche snickered as he pushed in the cum threatening to spill out of you with his fingers, “Would I tell them my little slut creamed all over it?”

You cried out at the overstimulation instead of responding, not like you would be able to since your mind was clouded. Scara’s words only sent trembles up your spine and down to your sex which was even wetter if possible.

“Excited…again? Already?” Scara asked, looming over you, “Didn’t know the Stardust was so easy?”

“Please,” you whined, wanting to finish yourself off, the stimulation was too much, even for you.

“You didn’t get to cum yet, think of this as your reward,” Scara said, removing his fingers and grinding against your sex.

Scara’s hips moved fast and it didn’t take much for you to release right into Scara’s lap. You were ashamed at how quickly it had taken you but your boyfriend just had that effect on you.

“A little pathetic at how quickly you came,” Scara scoffed, dragging his palms sullied with your cum across your bare chest, “Are you that much of a whore?”

You could only nod as the sticky substance dripped along his skin, your sex drained as Scara cleaned off his fingers, each one leaving a resounding pop. He dragged his fingers across your chest and swirled them around your nipples, moistening them before pulling back.

“I think you should sit in your mess until your next stream,” Scara teased, reaching down to grab his boxers and pants that were pooled on the ground and hoisting them back on.

You swallowed as Scara pulled your sweats up your legs and tied them for you. You could feel your wet sex against the fabric of your underwear. You were still full of Scaramouche’s cum and it felt warm as you squirmed around in your seat.

Unlike the sex they just had, Scaramouche was gentle with the way he undid the belt adorning your neck and rubbed at the red ring now encircling your neck from it. It had left red marks along with the love bites littering your skin. It felt sore but you wouldn’t have had it any other way.

“Sorry,” Scara apologized as he did so, trailing his fingers against your neck then proceeding to grab your top from the ground, “Looks like it’ll take a while to heal.”

“Don’t be, I quite liked it,” you assured as you pulled the shirt over yourself as Scara pulled you off your chair. Your legs felt weak as he did so but Scara caught you and left a short kiss on your lips.

“I’ll keep that in mind,” Scara drawled as he pulled you close, his lips now by your ear.

“Shower?” he murmured, and you could hear the smirk on his face.

“Fine,” you huffed, pushing him off of you,

“But now it's my turn to do what I want.”

behind the lens !

masterlist — prev | next

author’s notes — i didnt know how to end it 🤞 hope u enjoyed it sorry it’s kinda freaky and i beta read it myself so ignore any mistakes if any. also stop asking for updates! writing is my hobby! go touch some grass! also probably 1-2 chapters left depending on how i feel xx

synopsis — you, better known as STARDUST, and BALLADEER have always been in competition for the top streamer spot on twitch, which is especially impressive since the two of you have never shown your faces. you’ve never been on good terms, constantly one-upping each other in matches and getting into petty arguments on twitter, causing your fans to also dislike each other. that’s until BALLADEER does a face reveal that breaks the internet with his good looks…which makes you realize it’s the same guy you went on a date with last night. the type of date that made you crave to see him again. the only problem was he didn’t know you were STARDUST and he was way different behind the lens than he portrayed himself online to you. should you keep your identity a secret to salvage the relationship or just let him go?

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