#but it fizzles out after a few hours

[philsmeatylegss]

*Types into search bar*

“How to still be an active fan of a creator when previously being an obsessive fan for most of your teens because they were one of the few good things keeping you from killing yourself in middle school so now trying to become a more casual fan feels like a betrayal and I cannot get into new fandoms because the high I got in middle school from the extreme emotion switch cannot be replicated both because I’m literally twenty and I’m far from suicidal so now and I love these creators with my whole heart and still engage with all of their new content but I want to move on while also still being a fan but I just can’t?”

[eiightysixbaby]

hi there! i'm OBSESSED with your eddie works and I had a lil request for u!

(if this is out of your comfort zone, I totally get btw, i'm just actually hormonal rn)

thinking about reader and eddie while she's ovulating and absolutely, positively feral... maybe they've only been together for a little while and they've fucked before, but he's never really seen that side of her... idk i'm just thinking a lot of thoughts rn

thanks! 💞

hi angel! thank you so much!!! 🥹🫶🏻 i hope i did your request justice 🩵

18+ only plssss. fem!reader, unprotected piv

The clock ticks obnoxiously where it hangs on the wall, marking each passing second that won’t pass fast enough.

It’s not unusual for a shift at the library to go slowly, but today time feels like it’s trudging through thick molasses; barely crawling by. Or maybe it’s just going backwards at this point, who knows.

You chew at the cap of your pen, reading the same sentence of the novel in front of you over and over yet not fully comprehending it. Trying to ignore the desperate ache between your thighs, the heat that pools in the pit of your stomach. It had been a relentless desire for the last couple of hours, a hunger that couldn’t be sated just yet.

But the promise of seeing your boyfriend after work had you chewing-through-your-leash desperate for your shift to end. You know Eddie had a nice dinner planned for the two of you tonight, but all you can think about is how badly you need his hands on you. It makes you feel bad, but you can’t rid yourself of thoughts of his lips on your neck, his fingers splitting you open, your hips grinding against him. This always happens when you’re ovulating, only this time… you’re not hiding it.

The last couple of times, you’d made do with your vibrator at home; embarrassed to let Eddie see this side of you. Your relationship was still quite new, and you weren’t sure if ripping his clothes off any chance you got would scare him away or not. This time, though? You can’t hold back any longer.

The end of your shift arrives at long last, and you practically fling yourself from your receptionist chair. You gather your belongings with haste, throwing everything into your shoulder bag before hightailing it out the door. Your keys jangle as you fumble with them, searching for the correct one to unlock your car. Eddie will be expecting you, although maybe not expecting you in the state that you’re in.

It doesn’t take long to get to the trailer park, your thighs pressing together in an attempt to provide even the smallest amount of friction as you drive along familiar roads. Your car is barely in park before you’re killing the engine, ascending the few steps to his trailer door and swinging it open without a knock to alert anyone inside. Wayne isn’t home anyway, so really what do you need to knock for?

Eddie’s frame appears in his bedroom doorway down the small hallway, his face brightening at the sight of you. You feel like you’re sweating just looking at him, your clothes suddenly too tight as the space between your thighs vibrates with need.

“Hey, baby. I didn’t expect you so soon, did you fly over here?” Eddie asks, a lighthearted joke, but he’s not far from the truth.

You don’t even answer him, slipping off your shoes before you’re trodding down the hallway, throwing your arms around his neck when you reach him.

“Baby, what’s—” he starts to speak, only for you to cut him off with a hot kiss to his lips. His voice dies against your mouth, fizzling into a soft whimper as you tug his bottom lip between your teeth.

“Missed you so bad,” you murmur. Your nervousness over how he’d react is tossed out the window, unwilling to wait any longer. “And I’ve been wanting you all fucking day,” you ramble, kissing him between words. “I need you,” you plead, letting a hand fumble with his belt buckle.

He makes a sound that’s halfway between a gasp and a laugh, kissing you before speaking. “Do you not want to go to dinner?” he asks, tilting his head slightly to the side.

“I do,” you admit with a pout. “But I need you right now.” Your hands are on a mission, palming him urgently through denim as if he might disappear any second, never to be touchable again.

The corner of his mouth twitches up in a soft smirk, his thumbs rubbing over your hipbones where his hands hold them.

“I’ve never seen you this needy, sweetheart,” he teases you, brushing his lips across the shell of your ear before he bites at the lobe. “But I like it.”

You whine at this, the slightest touch, and he breathes a quiet laugh.

“Please, Eddie, don’t tease,” you beg as he noses your chin up, kissing at your neck.

He doesn’t listen, taking his time trailing kisses down your soft skin and letting his hands wander but never close enough to where you need him. You can feel yourself dripping, making a mess of your panties. His big hands squeeze your ass, taking greedy handfuls. You let out a moan, louder than you’d intended, earning the nip of his teeth against your skin. Taunting.

You’re riled up, frustrated beyond belief, huffing where you stand before you decide you’ve had enough.

You press your hands to his chest, pushing him off of you. He’s surprised by the action, giving you the opportunity to grab the collar of his shirt, pulling him over to his bed and letting him fall onto the mattress. He sits on the edge of it, looking up at you equal parts dumbfounded and turned on. Your hands hurriedly undo the hefty buckle on his belt, unzipping his jeans as you start to straddle his lap. His cock is throbbing, leaking as it lays in waiting in your hand once you retrieve it from its confines.

“Told you not to tease,” you say. His big brown eyes roam over your face, his pretty lips parted just slightly in a state of awe. “I need you to fuck me. Now.”

“Yes ma’am,” he obeys, but it’s less him doing the work and more you taking control.

You ruck your skirt up, pushing the fabric of your panties to the side and lining yourself up with his cock, sliding slowly down onto the length of him. Your name escapes his lips as his leaves yours, already starting to rock your hips against his.

He holds you firmly in place on his lap, guiding your movements to the best of his ability. The stretch he provides you with is delicious, exactly what you’d been craving, the entirety of him filling you up perfectly.

“You’re so fucking soaked, baby,” he remarks, bringing one hand up to briefly run through his messy curls, his cheeks already flushed pink. “Feel bad you had to wait so long for me while you’ve been this worked up.”

He’s teasing you, kind of. Pitying you in a way that only makes you ache further. You bounce faster on him, steadying yourself with your hands on his shoulders. He’s cursing under his breath as you’re fucking yourself on his length, riding him with a fervor and determination he hasn’t seen from you yet. He finds it hotter than he’d have ever expected, seeing you in such a state, and it’s taking everything he has not to finish early.

Lucky for him you aren’t far behind, desperate to cum after waiting all day. He lets one of his thumbs lazily circle your clit, sensing your desire to let go in the way your brows furrow in concentration.

Strings of moans tumble from your mouth, curse after curse of his name as you quicken your pace. Your head tips back, pure ecstasy coursing through you as you take what you want from him unashamedly. The rough pad of his finger on your clit makes you feel like you’re on fire, ablaze beneath his touch. His hips buck to meet your bounces, the tip of his cock pressing over and over against your sweet spot.

“Eddie—” you gasp, just as you fall apart on top of him. Your walls grip him like a vice, making him bite down on his lip.

He works you through your high, pulling out when he can’t possibly hold off his orgasm any longer. He pumps his cock in his fist a few times before he spills against your skin, cum dripping down your pussy.

Both panting, sweaty messes, you meet each other’s eyes and laugh.

“Feel better now, sweets?” he asks, lips pressing against yours in a heated kiss.

You break away momentarily, cradling his face in your hands. “You have no idea.”

He smiles. “Well, for what it’s worth, you have permission to use me whenever you need me.”

“Thank god,” you sigh, smiling against his cheek. “Cause I don’t think I’m done for the night.”

[reiderwriter]

I’ve watching the episode where Reid kisses the actress. Could you write a fic where the reader is in the BAU and is best friends with Reid but has a secret crush on Reid which is obvious to everyone on the team but Reid and she is so jealous of the actress and the teams teases her about it?

A/N: Hello! Thanks for the request, I hope you enjoy it~♡

Warnings: none, hints of bi-reader, but like...come on.

Masterlist

Your “too obvious, plain as day, nearly embarrassing” schoolgirl crush on Spencer Reid was taking too long to fizzle out naturally. 

When you'd met the man, and your heart fluttered, you knew you'd have to go through the motions: you'd hope, grow fonder of the man, dream about him, then cringe, get ick, and ultimately you'd achieve the ultimate crush death. 

You were stuck somewhere between hope and dream, still, and had taken a wrong turn somewhere leading to nearly Hozier-levels of desperate longing. 

5 months assisting the BAU as a press liaison, working as JJ's assistant on more public facing cases had landed you here. 

And what better case for you to spread your wings on than one in Los Angeles itself, starring the famous Lila Archer. 

When Gideon and Reid had called the case in, you'd been eager not to seem too eager. You'd never been out of Quantico on a case before, usually shacking up in an office to shout down phone lines as reporters on the press room floor telling them they were scum of the earth for sensationalizing murder. JJ had obviously taught you to have a more nuanced conversation that that, but your inner thoughts were still allowed. 

But LA was a different kettle of fish, and Hotch appreciated that. It didn't quite help that you visibly perked up when you heard Reid himself had a hand in calling it into the team. A high-school classmate and a jet ride later, you were excited and ready to greet Spencer Reid. And Lila Archer. 

She was so pretty it was intimidating to even breathe the same air as her, a magnetism that drew everyone in the room closer to her just as Spencer drew you towards him. 

You tried not to see the obvious attraction the two had to each other, but the bile rose in your throat every time you thought about the case. The sour twinge of jealousy became a constant on the case, as your efforts to save Lila from her stalker also pushed her closer and closer to Spencer. 

And that wasn't even accounting for the fact that you'd suddenly become tongue-tied around them.

Spencer had asked you multiple times how you were enjoying your first time out in the field, and the most you could muster was a nod and a stammered “it's been good, I guess.”

With Lila, it was worse. You couldn't even tell her your name, and had overheard her politely asking Reid for it a few times every time you'd dropped coffee off in their vicinity. 

Your school girl crush was hitting the first heartbreak road bump at full speed, and dear god, you were not ready for the car crash. 

You tried to psych yourself out of it, to clear your mind and remain professional, but one tabloid cover after wrapping the case ended that for you completely. 

“Whooo, Spencer, my man! I knew you were a pretty boy, I didn't know you had game like that!” 

The tabloid had been dropped on his desk by Derek loudly and had quickly drawn a crowd when they'd seen the resulting red flush from the man of the hour. 

He'd snatched up the gossip rag pretty quickly, but not before you'd gotten a glimpse of the cover. You recognised Lila’s pool, then Lila herself, then the man she was passionately making out with as you felt your heart crack in two. 

You'd stuck like a fly on the wall and quietly joined in the teasing as you swallowed all of your ugly emotions at once. 

“And in the pool, too, Spencer, that's crazy. Look at Y/N. She can't believe it herself!” You forced a small giggle past your lips and hoped the others couldn't tell how fake it was. You stuck out a few more minutes of conversation before nearly running back to JJ's, thankfully empty office. 

The tears were silent. 

You berated yourself for even letting them fall. An unrequited love wasn't the end of the world - especially considering you had to work with Reid, see him every day. 

It took you months to get over it. Not that you ever fully managed it.

You simply told yourself that you'd never felt that way in the first place, gaslighting yourself into believing there was no feelings and thus no heartbreak. 

After a month of haunting the office with your general gloom, you got into the flow of it and truly convinced yourself you were over it. 

And you were until everyone started talking about it all over again. 

“Spencer, I heard your lady friend is going to be in a real blockbuster soon. Congrats!” Morgan clapped the man on the shoulder as he walked past, discarding his coat at his desk as he arrived for work. 

You gripped your coffee mug slightly tighter as you wished the conversation would blow over. 

“Reid has a lady friend? Oh, please do not spare the details,” Emily jumped in, eager to integrate herself into the team now that she was in it. 

“You know that actress, Lila Archer? We babysat her on a case a couple of months back, and she took quite the liking to our little genius-” 

“Morgan, stop-” Reid groaned, flushing yet again at the mention of the whole scenario. 

“Okay, I'll back off,” the older man said quickly. “If you can tell me honestly, you don't still have that tabloid cover in the second draw of your desk.”

You tried to stand and walk away from the conversation without drawing any attention to yourself, but the tension in your body left you stiff and less than graceful. You tripped on the corner of your desk on your way out but didn't pause to even listen to the others' call after you in your haste to clear the venom burning in your throat. 

You were fine and happy to ignore your emotions, but you realized then that kind of tactics would only work if everybody else managed to avoid them, too. 

You calmed your pace to a wall and took a series of deep breaths, trying to rationalize your departure to yourself. 

“I'm busy. There's some files I need to pull anyway, so I'm just going to file storage. That's why I left my desk. That's all, I'm fine.” 

Your small pep talk didn't rewrite history, though, and you still felt a cloud of envy following you around.

He kept her picture. In his drawer. 

Truth be told, you weren't expecting it to hurt this bad. 

You heard footsteps come up behind you, so you quickly ducked into the empty elevator, not quite ready to face anyone yet. A hand caught it just as you were about to be left alone, though, and Spencer joined you in the elevator. 

You weren't exactly shocked to see him. He'd been just as uncomfortable with the topic of conversation as you had, if not more so. You just wished you hadn't been in the same place now. 

“Sorry, I need some files.” 

Great, you were going to the same place as well. You just nodded slightly and gave him a tight-lipped smile as you travelled down to the place you'd both chosen as an escape. 

“Back there, you left…” Spencer started, fidgeting awkwardly next to you in the elevator.

“You left pretty abruptly.”

“I remembered I needed some files.’

“Right, right…”

The silence that stretched between you was thick and suffocating, and you begged the elevator to move faster. 

“I don't, by the way.” He spoke up again, awkwardly clearing his throat before continuing. “I don't still have that tabloid. There is a picture in that drawer, but it's not…that one.” 

“A different picture of Lila, then?’ You tried to keep your tone light, but even while trying your hardest, you couldn't keep the bitterness out of your tone.

The elevator reached its destination, but you both held back for a few seconds, and neither of you was quite sure what to say anymore. 

“She kissed me, you know.” Spencer said, facing you now, pinning you in place with his attention. 

“Yes, Spencer. Well aware, I saw the photo, too.” 

“No.. no, I mean, she kissed me.” 

“Loud…loud and clear,” you said, raking a hand through your hair as you tried to drown out all of the noise. 

“Y/N, I don't think you're hearing me.” 

“Oh, and I should be paying attention to you recounting the time an actress decided you were worthy of your time and tried to mount you in a swimming pool? I need to hear about how her tongue felt being pushed down your throat?” 

The words jumped out of you, and you had no way to stop them once they started. Instead, you simply shoulder checked your way out of the still elevator and marched your way to the file room. 

“Y/N, I'm sorry, please just hear me out,” you heard Spencer calling out to you, but you didn't stop or turn around. 

“Y/N, I'm trying to explain, please just-” You heard him groan in frustration as you kept up your pace and felt slightly satisfied that he was having such a hard time. A solid hand on your wrist pulling you back wiped any smile you had on your face clean off, especially as you were pulled into a somewhat solid chest and a hand tipped your head up to meet his own. 

To say you hadn't imagined the moment that Spencer Reid kissed you for the first time would be a lie. You thought it would be sweet and small, an awkward peck if nothing else that led to giggles and more innocent chaste kisses and possibly an illusive hug. 

Instead, you were pushed back against the nearest wall, pinned up by your wrists, and robbed of all of your breath as Spencer kissed you until you were seconds from passing out. 

Even after you both came up from air, he released your wrists so he could angle your head back up to him, allowing him to deepen the kiss the second time around. 

Stunned was not the word. 

And though you were completely taken unaware by the kiss, that didn't mean you weren't eagerly reciprocating. 

You kept your wits about you as his tongue parted your lips, leaning into him as you savored the moment. 

It didn't stop the confusion after you finally broke apart, though. 

“What…the…fuck, Spencer?” You said between gasps, chest heaving. He let your wrists go awkwardly, hands trailing down to your waist as you rested yours on his shoulders.

“You weren't…listening. Needed a different strategy.” 

“Well, I'm all ears now.” 

He nodded and then took another moment to catch his breath before relinquishing you from his hold and putting a bit of space between you. 

“I didn't kiss Lila Archer. I didn't particularly want..to?” He cleared his throat and continued. 

“She kinda just grabbed me? And did it? There was a pool too, so I was trying not to choke on water and chlorine and hair everywhere. Like, she just grabbed me-” 

“Like you just did?” 

“Like I just… did, yeah, like that.” 

You weren't sure what to do or say anymore. So you just nodded and stood there, and so did he. 

“That's not to say that I didn't enjoy this kiss. It wasn't just to illustrate the point. It kind of was, in the sense that it helped you understand what happened before, and that I hope it will help you realize the point of this conversation-” 

“Which is?” 

“I like you.” He said, finally pausing his rambling to look you in the eyes. 

“I like you, and I didn't want you to misunderstand.” 

“Oh. Oh right.” 

You both stood there looking at each other and looking away in a loop, neither talking or breaking the silence until you both tried to. 

“What about y-” 

“Kiss me again.” 

Reid blinked at you a few more times, trying to work through your words. 

“Kiss me again” you repeated, stepping away from the wall and closer to Reid as he still just stared at you. 

“We're still working, what if someone walks past?” 

“Didn't stop you the first time.”

“But-”

You cut him off quickly, grabbing his tie and pulling him down to your level, locking lips with him again. 

When you again came up for breath, possibly much longer after the time a second kiss should last, both of you just laughed again. 

“I was jealous.” You said, looking up at him, ready to bare yourself to him now that he'd given a confession of his own. “Of Lila. Of you for being adored like that by someone so cool. But mostly of Lila.”

“Because?” 

“Because I like you, too,” you said, rolling your eyes at him. 

“Nice. Cool, that's great. I like that you like me, too. I like you, hey, I like us,” you cut off his rambling quickly with another small kiss and pulled away.

“So the picture?" You asked, backing away down the hall as he stood and watched you.

"Hmm?"

"The one in your desk."

"Oh," he said, scratching the back of his neck as the tips of his ears turned bright pink.

"Penelope gave me this picture from the Christmas party. It's, uh, me and you."

You smiled brightly before turning to leave, the bile of jealousy that had been consuming you turned magically to butterflies in the space of two kisses.

[placeinthemiddleofnowhere]

Keep Moving Forward

Pairing: König x Reader

Summary: You're determined to find out why everyone thinks König is so scary, afterall he's just some guy that's taller than most people right? He's probably harmless! Well, he's a little scary, but you still like him anyway.

(No use of y/n or mention of gender/race)

AN: Just want to say a massive thank you for everyones lovely comments on the last part, I can't believe how many notes that has now 😱 I've got a taglist so if you want to be added or removed (I just stuck down everyone that commented or reblogged the last one with tags/comments) lemme know! Also I've got my own version of what König looks like and I've been including details so hopefully you like my thoughts on him 🥰

Part 2 of A Rocky Start - Full Masterlist Here

-☠️-

A forbidden crush, a whole unit of men watching out for any missteps and a job that required you to be on your A game - it all sounded a bit like a bonkers netflix plot, but no this was your life now. You were desperately trying to hide your little (massive) König crush, while trying to get through your days and it was going horribly. The universe was working against you. 

König kept appearing for one. Now that he knew you weren’t talking to him just to fuck with him, you’d been meeting more and more and talking for longer each time. In fact, you’d come to learn a lot about the man in the short amount of time you’d spent together and unfortunately for you, nothing about any of it turned you off.  In fact, you were only falling harder for him. 

Every touch, every grazed hand when you were reaching for mugs and brushed sides when you sat together on the couch - they were driving you crazy. Not to mention catching little details about him here and there, painting a mental picture that rivalled the mona lisa. 

You’d caught a glimpse of a scar that snaked up from his lip and a few that marred his hands and arms, you’d noted bruises that carried back from missions and most of all you couldn’t help but think of the little birthmark on his left hip that he’d exposed when he’d been reaching for tea. You thought about running your fingers along them often, kissing them all better. 

You’d learned that it was pretty much pointless to make movie references to König because he barely took time to watch them. He was much more of a doer, he didn’t like to sit still for long and most film runtimes were over an hour and a half, which was no good for him. And so you’d slowly gotten a peek into his more active hobbies. Hiking, rock climbing and skiing, only to name a few. The man was an athlete that rivalled most of the soldiers you knew.  

“And this was the view from top!” he’d proudly said after he showed you another picture from one of his hikes.

“Woah, no wonder your legs are like tree trunks,” you’d murmured, raking your eyes over his thick thighs.

“What was that?”

“Oh! Just- you must get a good workout climbing all those hills.”

Just one of the many times you’d let your appreciation for him slip. You could barely help it most of the time, he had your words fizzling out like some kind of mentos and coke explosion. The highly trained soldier in you died the minute you were in a room with him. 

It was when he grabbed you that you finally went stupid for him. König was - as Captain Price had described him - a mammoth in many regards. You’d already taken note of his verging on monstrous height, but you’d come to learn a lot more about his strength. He could lift you like you were little more than a lap dog.

How had you come to find this out? Well -

“Watch out!”

Your head had been completely in the clouds, busy catching up with messages from your family, when suddenly you were in the air. You gasped as you felt a pair of hulking arms pick you like an apple from a low hanging branch and squeaked when you looked down and came to notice the pile of vomit that lurked below your flailing feet. Gross. 

Then you’d come to the slow realisation of exactly whose arms were wrapped around you. Suddenly the rising feeling of nausea was replaced by hordes of stirred up butterflies.

“Are you ok?” 

You blinked, still shocked that König was holding you like you were nothing.

“Uh- ah- yeah! Yup! All good, big guy!”

You’d hurried out your reply, sputtering out your words like a leaky tap. You felt like an idiot. Then the feeling intensified when he put you down and turned you to face him. In fact, you felt like someone had placed a heat pad to your face after running a marathon.

If he could lift you that easy when you were limp, imagine how easy he could lift you up against the wall and-

“Are you sure you’re ok? You look…not so good?.”

You gulped and offered him what you hoped was a reassuring smile and then - to make matters worse - a double thumbs up (who did that???). You silently cursed in your mind, but covered up your embarrassment by staring back at the sick pile for a second and then facing König again.

“Ew…thanks for saving me from that! I would’ve been throwing up as well if I’d had to clean that outta my shoes.”

“Any time, friend!”

Friend.

It stung a little, but then you had to remind yourself you were both supposed to be acting professionally, this was a base afterall, and quickly righted yourself. Friend would do fine in a setting where Price would have your head for even looking at König a little flirtily. Especially when the resident gossips had continued to grass you in for any interactions they caught. 

-☠️-

“That was some amount of whitey those new recruits left all over the hallways yesterday,” Soap had remarked after finishing a set of pull ups. 

You hummed in agreement, remembering back to being lifted and growing quiet as you thought about Königs bulging arms. It had been a recurring thought for the whole twenty two hours since it had happened. Not that you were counting or anything, especially not being obsessive by any means. It was just that the electricity that had been sparked by that touch had been racing around your body and now you were stuck replaying the scene over and over in your head like an accursed rerun. 

“English, Soap,” Ghost grunted, from a nearby bench. 

“There was a lot of puke all over the place yesterday,” Soap sighed, rolling his eyes at the Lieutenant. 

“Oh yeah, I heard about that. Did you hear sneaky almost stepped in it?”

“Ooft, that’d be a shite shift cleaning that off.”

“I know. Luckily little sneak got airlifted to safety,” Ghost said slyly, giving you a pointed look. “Got snatched away by a certain giant before they stepped right in it.”

You froze in your spot, just about to curl a weight upwards before letting it crash out of your hands and onto the floor. That fucking, no good old dear prick! How had he heard about that? You hadn’t thought anyone else had been around when it had happened. 

“Careful, sneak. The German’s not here to stop that from stubbing your toe,” Ghost chuckled.

“He’s Austrian actually…And how did you know about that?”

“Oooh! Austrian,” Soap snickered.

“Well I do apologise. You should know by now that I hear about everything when it comes to our unit, sweetheart.”

You hated that. Whenever Ghost patronisingly called you sweetheart it made your blood boil and clouded your thoughts like a thick red mist. Though, there was nothing you could do about it. He wasn’t someone you could wage revenge on without being thoroughly outgunned in all respects. Plus, it would only make you look more guilty. 

“Well, you didn’t even know what nationality König was so you don’t know everything,” you muttered.

“Well, now that you’ve filled me in, I can go tell Price you were getting lifted up by the big Austrian cunt that he told you to stay away from,” he countered smugly. 

“What! I can’t help who snatches me out of the air from nowhere,” you hissed. “Have you seen the size of him? I can’t exactly stop him.”

He tisked. 

“Well then, soldier. Sounds like you need more training. C’mere, we’ll practise getting out of holds!”

You yelped as Ghost had come crashing toward you and dove out of the way just in time to miss his outstretched arms. Even if he was smaller than your new companion, Ghost was still built like a tank - and he would pin you down like a mouse under the wheel of a 4x4 if he caught you. 

“Stay away from me!” you’d squealed, running away from the gym. 

“Oh now you’re suddenly averse to getting grabbed!”

-☠️-

Essentially, you were discovering a new level of hell every day. Your entire unit had cottoned on to your little thing with König and now there was no escape from the jokes they made. Well that is until Price came along and no one was quite enough of an asshole to mention your activities to him. You all knew the consequences of getting his back up and it wasn’t worth the stress for anyone. 

Though, not everyone was aware of that - König himself for one. Unluckily for you, you’d found yourself in the kitchen with Price and Soap and just as the kettle was put to the boil, who should walk in but the Austrian giant himself. 

“Evening,” he murmured, barely loud enough to be heard over the kettle. 

Soap looked up from his phone as he noticed König and widened his eyes before searching you out and giving you a sly smile. Oh lord. You knew he was going to love watching you squirm. 

Suddenly your heart was thudding like a samba drum and your mind was racing to find your self restraint. Don’t let Price see you turn into a nervous fucking wreck! You repeated that over and over like a mantra, turning it over in the sands of your mind as if you might find some calm that way. 

“Evenin’” you smiled, feeling your voice lilt.

Oh god. 

You smiled at König as he approached the counter and promptly scampered away to the table, hoping that by keeping some distance you wouldn’t be so transparent. Fat chance considering the stupid smirk that was all over Soap’s face as he pretended to batter his eye lashes behind Price’s back. Asshole!

You knew you looked guilty as hell, even if you were walking away from König. However, any chance of not being caught ogling by Price was worth taking. So you figured you’d stare at your phone instead and prayed to all the gods you knew of that König was busy and he’d have to leave again after getting himself something to drink. 

Why didn’t he ever go out for food? There was a perfectly nice pub just over the road and he could easily go there instead of looking over you all the time - putting you in grievous danger of toilet duty. You’d have to tell him about it sometime, and hope that he’d ask to go with you. 

“Anyone else want a brew?” Price offered, in the midst of pouring his own cup. 

You looked up from your phone screen, darting your eyes over to the captain. Answer him! Speak normally!

“Oh! Yes, me please.”

Maybe that was a little more polite and nicey-nice than usual, but at least you were coherent. That was something, a small victory.

“Coffee for me, Price,” Soap grinned. 

You breathed out a small sigh now that Price was distracted by Soap and let your eyes wander over to König, resting your chin in your hand. He was so big, he towered over the two other men by a few heads at least. He could pin you down like a lion and there’d be nothing you could do about it, nothing you’d want to do about it. 

“That’s the wrong one.”

You jumped as König’s accented voice interrupted the thankful silence and widened your eyes as you watched him turn to Price. What was he doing? You sucked in a breath and watched as the two men became locked into an exchange and silently hoped a rogue sniper might take you out. 

“Sorry, what was that?” Price asked, frowning deeply as he stared at the masked man.

“That’s the wrong tea,” König supplied helpfully. “Sneaky likes this one.”

As if correcting Price on his choice of tea wasn’t enough, König went to the lengths of picking a bag of your herbal stuff out. He dropped it into the mug and stuck the other bag back in the back, tilting his head as Price stared at him with a raised eyebrow. 

“Well then…thanks for the advice,” he finally said, turning to stare you down. “It’s never nice when you expect one thing and get the other.”

You were in deep shit. 

He was giving you the ‘I’ve killed before and I’ll do it again’ look. You gulped and slumped in your chair, feeling like a tiny child that was about to get reprimanded. Price was going to learn all about your involvement with König soon, the game was up. 

“Oh yeah, no problem!” König said, sounding like he was smiling under his mask. 

That idiot! 

Though, in fairness to him he knew nothing about the toilet duty thing. He didn’t even have any idea that you weren’t supposed to be interacting with him, especially when you’d gone so out of your way to do it over the past month. It wasn’t his fault, but at the same time you could strangle his beautiful massive neck for what he’d done. 

“Sneak, would you mind coming with me for a moment? I think we should have a little chat,” Price smiled. “I’ll bring your tea.”

He was probably omitting that he was going to dump it over your stupid head, you thought worriedly. This wasn’t good at all. 

You gulped and nodded at him, slinking out of your chair like a dog about to take a beating. Though, you continued to follow behind him just as dutifully - Ignoring Soap as he gave you a little wave off and a snarky smile. You knew as soon as you’d left that he was messaging the group chat right then, and the whole 141 would know that you were getting pulled up for speaking to König. 

He lead you down the hall and into an empty meeting room, setting the two mugs down on the table, they hit the wood like death knells, and pointed to the chair in front of him. It all felt very formal, like this was going to be one of the worst telling offs of your life. 

“Don’t look so scared, kid.”

You bit your tongue and chanced a look in his eyes, seeing the glint that lingered within them. He didn’t look furious, but he didn’t look like he was going to offer you a cuddle and kind words either. It made you sweat a little less, but you weren’t dumb enough to completely untense your body yet. 

“Y-you’re not annoyed that I’ve been speaking to König?” You asked, chancing your luck.

“Oh, I’m annoyed, but I’m not going to kill you for it,” he laughed humorlessly, leaning back in his chair. “You look like you’re going to shit yourself.”

“I think I might,” you said, biting your lip and fastening your shaky hands around your warm tea cup. 

“See, that’s why I’m concerned about this…relationship you’re building with König. I worry about you.”

You frowned, thoroughly surprised by his reaction. He was being a damn sight more sympathetic than you were expecting. This wasn’t a bollocking, this was an intervention. 

“You don’t have to worry. We’re just friends - strictly platonic! We talk and have tea together, nothing more than that,” you explain breathily, hoping it’ll appease the captain.

He strokes a hand through his beard and eyes you warily. He’s clearly unconvinced. His jaw is set into a worried line. 

“Hmm.”

He doesn’t give much away. 

“Really, I’m not trying to take things f-further.”

You stutter like a liar. Really, that is what you’re doing if you’re honest with yourself. You might not be asking König out on dates and braiding flowers into his gear, but you have been shamelessly flirting with him and getting into close proximity with him at the slightest chance. Plus, Price practically knows you better than your own parents, he’d be able to tell when you were acting differently, like you were in terminal stages of puppy love. 

“Look, he’s not part of our unit, so really it’s none of my business, I can’t actually do anything about it - as much as I’d like to,” he says, glowering for a moment. “I just think that he’s dangerous and I don’t like the thought of you getting close to him. For all I know, he’s nice enough to you, but when he’s on the field that man’s an animal. There’s something wrong with him.” 

You gasp a little as he says it, shocked that he’d say something like that to you. What did he mean there was something wrong with König? Sure, you thought, he was quiet and intimidating but he was so polite and cheerful when you’d gotten to know him more. It’s not like most people were their best selves on a battlefield - it was in your training to leave all that behind. It was hypocritical to judge Königs actions given your experience with the 141 out on missions. 

“What do you mean there’s something wrong with him?” You finally asked, curious to know just what Price meant. 

“He takes too much pleasure in the work he does. He’s sick when he’s out there- like letting a rabid dog out of its cage. I worry about you getting involved with him and being at the mercy of a man like that. You wouldn’t have any chance against him, Sneak. I’ve seen him crush bones like they’re twigs, he’d snap you like a toothpick.”

You can feel your pulse in your ears, can hear it working away like a jackhammer. You don’t know how to respond. The fact that Price is this worried for you really does concern you, but on the other hand König has never given you any reason to be scared of him beyond that first encounter you’d had with him. Then again, you reasoned that that surely wasn’t the real him - that was guarded walled up version of him. Right? 

“I see,” you sighed, not able to come out with more. 

“I know you won’t want to take my word for it, and you’re going to keep doing whatever it is you're actually doing. I just want to know that you’ve been warned and you’re going to be careful.”

You took a breath and looked away, roving your eyes over the assortment of chairs on the other side of the room. Sure, you could take his warning on. Though, it didn’t feel like it was going to stick, not when you thought back to his arms wrapped around you and making you feel like a precious gem. 

“I’ll keep what you’ve said in mind,” you acquiesced. 

“Good soldier,” Price smiled, leaning over and patting your shoulder.

You swallowed thickly and stood up, feeling your breathing return back to normal. Well that was it then. You weren’t going to be killed on sight and you didn’t have to worry about staring down the bowl of a toilet for the rest of your miserable life. 

You both stepped out the doorway and into the light of the hall. You felt dizzy on your feet, but relieved that you were getting away without any punishment. Well, other than the fact that König might be someone to worry about rattling around in the back of your mind, that is. Then again, you had a sneaking suspicion that you’d forget all about it as soon as you were in his company again…

“Remember what I said, Sneaky! Otherwise I’ll let you think about it some more while you’re on your knees scrubbing toilets,” Price said over his shoulder, taking an indulgent sip of his coffee afterwards. 

You stopped in your tracks and shared a look with Soap, who’d poked his head out of the kitchen to check on you. Well, maybe you weren’t going to completely forget Price’s warning. His lingering threat would keep you on your toes. 

-☠️-

“It seems a little late for you to be out walking,” you noted.

You watched as König whirled around, and went wide eyed when he looked like he might hit you. His fist was drawn back and just when it looked like he was about to swing it - he stopped and let it fall flatly to his side. As soon as he’d scanned his eyes over your shrinking form he went limp immediately. 

“Scheiße! Where the hell did you come from?” he cursed.

You took a moment to recover but eventually found your heartbeat returning to its regular rhythm and swallowed, relaxing your shoulders soon after. That was close. You assumed he’d have known you were sitting there on the wall, he always seemed to have a hyper awareness of you as if he was some kind of bat. Though his echolocation must have failed for once, you’d been too obscured by the untrimmed tree branches that had surrounded you, most likely.  

“I-I come out and sit here sometimes, its nice to look at the stars.”

König regarded the wall you were sitting on, just a low down thing made of worn stone and his head followed where it stretched down the road. It cut off the pavement from the small scatty park inside. Then when he looked back at you with his twinkling azure eyes, those eyes that had you forgetting all about the near miss that just happened, you finally got to take him in properly. You watched him as he settled next to you on your makeshift seat. 

Two things struck you all at once. Firstly, König was wearing a neck warmer instead of his usual sniper hood, probably so he wouldn’t scare any civilians more than a hulking giant like himself normally would, it was drawn way up to the bridge of his nose, but nevertheless you knew it was him under there. And next - the mess of shaggy dirty-blonde hair on top of his head. You had to fight the urge not to ask if you could run your hands through it. It was like putting a moth in front of a thousand watt bulb. You ached to feel the fuzz of his faded sides and get to rearrange the chaotic locks above that sprawled in every direction.

“You’re staring.”

You bit your lip as he said it, and looked away guiltily. Oh fuck. It’s not like it could be helped though, this was the most you’d gotten to see of him. He was always so covered up and burdened by gear you could barely make out the man from the material - and now you were getting to see what was basically a visual buffet of König. It wasn’t fair. You could look at every inch of him that he’d let you see all day. 

“Sorry,” you finally breathed out. “I just- uh was surprised is all.”

“Why?” he smirked, eyes crinkling as he stared right back. 

“Didn’t think you’d be blonde,” you say, thinking blessedly quickly. 

“What is it they say? Blondes have more fun?” he chuckled, coming to sit on the wall next to you. 

You snorted and looked away from him again. Even though you’d been talking for a while now, his silly humour could still surprise you, especially when you recalled the way everyone acted around him, as if he’d bite them if they got too close. It was like getting to see a tiger roll onto his stomach when no one else was around. 

“How come you don’t wear that around the base?” you asked, tilting your head at him.

“Why would I? I can wear my hood there without getting questioned about it.”

“But isn’t it less stuffy with the neck warmer?” You ask, crinkling your nose at the thought of being trapped under that heavy material all day. 

“Yes, but it’s as though I can physically feel people's eyes cutting into me when I wear this - or nothing. The staring is too much.” 

You pause for a second and laugh at yourself, feeling a little more embarrassed.

“...Like I was just doing to you there.”

König laughs a little with you, but after a second he shakes his head and breaths out into the frigid night air. The skies had been dark for a little while by that point and the light of the moon was bright and shiny, reflecting in König’s eyes like a gleaming pearl. It was probably the first time you ever recalled admiring the moon that much. 

“I didn't feel like I was being dissected by you, no.”

You felt a little tingle run rogue down your arm. So he didn’t mind you looking at him? You smiled a little wider to yourself and tried to conceal it with a scratch of your cheek. 

“Really? Why’s that?” You asked, feeling a little brave. 

“You stare at me all the time, I’m used to it.”

Instantly it felt as if the air had caught fire and was charring you into oblivion. He’d caught you? Why hadn’t he said anything before? You opened your mouth ready to come up with some kind of silly excuse, too flustered to think of something good. Though he interrupts you before you can get a sound out. 

“I didn't mean to embarrass you, I find it endearing,” he soothed.

“What? Why?” you ask dumbly.

“The way you look - with your wide doe eyes…” he says trailing off. 

Now he cant look at you. His head turns away. You can't speak either, so you're both left frozen in place.

“The way you’re looking at me now,” he finally says.

“Maybe I just can’t stop staring at your messy hair,” you chuckle, trying to awkwardly change the subject. “Someone should fix that for you.”

“Does someone want to?” he asks, his brows setting as he tilts his chin. 

Oh no. You bite your lip feeling like your body’s going to astrally project onto another planet. Was this really happening? Did he actually just give you permission to touch him, no, run your hands through his hair? 

Part of you wants to laugh him off and prevent any embarrassment when he turns around and says he was kidding, says you’re a weirdo for wanting to touch him like that. Your mind starts going down avenues of all the awful things he could say about the little freak that looks at him too much, but then the sane part of your mind kicks and acts as a buffer stop, halting the run away anxiety train. König would never do that to you. 

You were far too used to dealing with Ghost and Soap, and all of their stupid teasing. But even then, not even they would do something so cruel. 

“I do,” you murmur. 

König nods and leans forward and closes his eyes, giving you what little advantage he can with the amount of height he has on you. At first, you’re incredulous that you’re in a real life scenario and not locked into a fantasy seven layers deep, but you quickly give up that idea and decide to tentatively reach out. You’re too excited not to take the opportunity. 

Your hand shakes a little at first as you make contact with his soft hair, and immediately you think of the devil dog your neighbour used to have when you were a kid. It was a huge old thing that barked like a foghorn, but once it got to know you, it would roll over and present its downy fur and you could spend hours at a time running your hands through it. Now, though, it’s not the scary shepherd you’re taming, it’s König. 

He sits perfectly still while you sort through all the strands, smoothing them back and fixing them into place. You swear you can hear soft groans coming from him, but they’re so quiet you could be mistaken. That, and you’re too mesmerised by the task at hand, forming his hood mussed hair into a style. 

When you’re done and his hair is mostly settled - apart from a small cow lick you can’t seem to fix - you can’t help but run your fingers over the fuzz on the side of his head. Immediately he shivers like a harsh breeze has rolled in, surprising you, but when he snaps his eyes open they don’t look annoyed like you worry he is, instead he looks ready to pin you down and take you right there against the wall.

“That felt very nice,” he said softly, blown out pupils shifting away from you as he straightened.

You’re not sure what to say, you just smile and bite your lip, keeping your eyes fixed on him. You know rightly that your pupils are just as wide as his, you can practically feel the explosion that’s going on. You want him. 

“König I… I uh-“ 

Footsteps sounding from nearby, crunching up the leaf littered pavement, interrupt all your thoughts and both of you turn your heads as someone walks up to you both. You hold in a breath, feeling like you’d scream otherwise and watch as a face comes into view from out of the shadows. 

Mercifully it’s not Ghost or Soap that marches up to you, it’s Gaz.He’d been the only one not to completely batter the dead ‘Sneaky and König up a tree’ horse. He stops when he sees you both and his eyes widen as he spots König, probably just as shocked as you were when he realised he can see his face. Though, he quickly averts his eyes and looks at you instead, awkwardly shifting his hands in his hoodie pocket. 

“Captain said to tell you we’ve got an early start tomorrow,” he says looking at you pointedly , “we’ve got a briefing at four. Said you best get all the sleep you can.” 

“Oh…do you know anything about it?” You ask, still feeling a bit breathless from before.

“From what I gather, the 141 and KorTac are heading out together, but I don’t know much beyond that,” he shrugs. 

You give a sideways glance to König and watch as he regards you the same way. That meant you’d be working together for the first time. You take a breath and look back at Gaz, finally nodding your head.

“Thanks for coming to let me know, I’ll head in in a minute,” you assure him. 

Gaz nods back curtly and turns on his heel, retreating to the base again and leaving you alone in the only silence. You finally look back at König, only once you’re sure there’s no one lurking around and looking to catch you with him, and smile softly. 

“Looks like we’ll be working together then,” you laugh awkwardly.

“Seems like it,” he replies, lowering his head. “Perhaps we should listen to the captain’s advice and head in.”

You feel a stab of disappointment tear through your heart immediately. You’d wanted to resume things from where you’d left off. You wanted to pull back the cloth from his face and kiss him under the stars as if they were watching and you were the only ones there. There were fireworks and sparklers going off in your mind, but now they were being snuffed out as you watched König stand up from your not so secret spot. 

“Come on, you need your rest,” he insists, holding out his hand. 

You raise your eyebrows, but put your hand in his and rise as he guides you up. Even with you standing, he towers above you. It’s especially noticeable as you stand so close to him, almost pressed to his big wide chest. There’s a snapping creature in your mind that distantly wishes to jump onto him and kiss him, but you beat the thought back and look away from König instead.

“Hey,” he says softly, tilting your head back with his rough gloved fingers. “I want to pick things back up too, but…not before a mission. We can do this again after all that. Yeah?” 

You gulp, feeling your spine light on fire with tingles. Did he just acknowledge that things were about to go further there? So he definitely felt the same as you…

“Makes sense,” you murmur, feeling your desperation roll off you in waves. 

He is speaking sense, but you don’t want him to be. 

“You can fix my hair for me again when we get back,” he teases, rubbing his finger against your jaw again. “I’m sure it will be very messy.”

“Am I your stylist now?” You smirk, feeling your mood lift. 

“Amongst other things,” he says, eyes showing the smile that was surely on his lips. 

You raise your eyebrows and just as you’re about to ask what things, he silences you with what he does next. He leans down and brings his lips to your cheek, and through his mask, kisses you. 

You freeze in place, your heart thudding like it’ll explode and close your eyes. You can’t believe what just happened. You laugh a little to yourself - letting loose a giggle and open your eyes, watching as he smiles back at you and gestures his hand back to base. 

“To be continued,” you whisper to yourself.

-☠-

Next Part Here

[matchingbatbites]

somehow we're here

Explicit | 6.5k | Modern AU | Full Tags + Read on Ao3

Steve only downloaded the app because he was drunk. 

At least, that’s what he’ll tell himself in the morning, once he’s back in the light of day and not half-gone on a few fruity cocktails and multiple shots of tequila - at least three, though it’s realistically more like five or six. Nevermind that he’s been home for almost an hour at this point, is only still awake because of the vague nausea still rolling in his stomach. 

It had been incredibly easy to set up an account, even in his drunken state - something he thinks might be a feature and not a bug - and he’s been scrolling on it for about ten minutes when he realizes-

He’s still bored.

Because that had been the real reason, hadn’t it?

Steve is bored. Bored of first dates that seem to go nowhere, of relationships that seem to fizzle out after a few weeks, and for whatever reason, Tequila Steve seems convinced that a gay dating app would be a fun thing to sign up for. It’s not like he has anything to lose, he’s just bored and kind of horny and definitely not lonely and desperate.

So Steve flips through profiles, taking in photos of the same waifish boys and beefy gym bros. He’s just about ready to give up and try to sleep through the nausea, when he stumbles across a profile that makes him stop cold. 

The photo looks like it’s from a concert or something; the guy is on a stage, clearly mid-show, with a wicked looking guitar in his hands. Steve’s eyes get caught on those hands, the veins and the painted nails and the chunky, silver rings. 

His hair is a riot of dark curls haloed by the stage lights, and Steve regrets that he isn’t able to see the man’s face. He focuses instead on his clothes, the black t-shirt and ripped jeans, his exposed forearms littered with black ink. 

The photo is so honest. It’s pure, simple emotion and Steve is instantly drawn in, eager to know more about this person.

The next photo is closer, clearly cropped down from a larger picture, and Steve gets his first good look at the man’s beautiful face. Deep, chocolate eyes that house a delighted sparkle, a blinding smile that sets loose a swarm of butterflies in Steve’s stomach. Not to mention the piercings; two just below his lower lip and another through his eyebrow - Steve briefly wonders if he has more, maybe his tongue or his nipples - fuck, that would be so hot.

In the last photo the man is seated on a couch, holding an acoustic guitar this time, and he seems focused on whatever he’s playing, clearly unaware of the camera-person at all. Those brown curls are pulled into an updo, revealing ears littered with even more silver jewelry, and there’s a cute little crinkle between his brows that Steve wants to smooth out with his thumb.

Steve scrolls down to actually read the guy’s profile, and sees that his name is Eddie. He’s 27 and local to the area, he likes metal music and D&D, and he definitely seems to check a lot of Steve’s boxes. Nerdy? Yeah. Hot? Fuck yeah. Confident? If the concert photo is anything to go by, this man has confidence coming out his ass. So yeah, check there too. 

He adds the guy without hesitation, and will once again blame Tequila Steve for what’s next once he’s sober. He sends Eddie a message.

‘Hi, i’m straight, i literally just got this app cause im kinda bord and kinda drunk. But you’re actually my type. Can I be honest?’

Steve doesn’t really expect an immediate response, considering that it’s two in the morning and all, so he decides to flip over to a different app, already knowing that he isn’t really going to care about anyone else he might come across. He’s surprised when only a couple of minutes later, he gets back a simple ‘Sure lmao’, and scrambles to flip back over to the messenger.

‘I didint think i’d message anyone on here but your cute and hnestly i geuss i kinda like that you won’t get pregnant.’

He decides to wait this time, to see if he’ll get another quick response, and he holds his breath when the typing indicator pops up, only to disappear again. It does this a couple of times, like Eddie is writing and pausing, or erasing and starting over, and Steve just waits, so curious to know what the other man is going to say.

‘Are you free tomorrow? I need to know if you’re as adorably endearing when you’re sober.’

Steve gasps in delight. Eddie wants to meet him! He kicks his feet a little in excitement and messages back ‘I can be as endering as you want me to be baby.’ It takes him a second to realize he hadn’t actually answered Eddie’s question, and he sends a follow up ‘Yes i am free tomorow.’

‘Meet me at Hank’s on 6th? 7pm?’

He confirms the time and place, and even as giddy as he is, Steve’s barely able to exchange a few more messages before he’s out like a light.

Steve wakes up the next morning with a headache. It’s nowhere near the level of one of his migraines, but it’s enough to be annoying as he gets up and starts his day. He’s thankful it’s Saturday, that all he really has to worry about are some errands and brunch with Robin.

A quick shower and a cup of coffee has him feeling more alive, but meeting up with Robin makes him feel better than anything else could. She looks about as bad as he does, which is interesting considering that she didn’t even come with him to the club last night. 

They chatter on for a while, with Steve letting her rant again about the situation she finds herself in (she refuses to drop Vickie even though the girl bounces between her on-again-off-again boyfriend and Robin like a fucking ping pong ball, and she also refuses to admit her growing feelings for Chrissy, her roommate turned friend with benefits. It’s a whole mess.)

She asks about his own dating life, and he honestly has nothing new to report. He’d gone out last night intending to at least find someone to take home, but once he actually got into the scene, the effort just didn’t seem worth it for a temporary fix. 

Instead he drank, and he danced with strangers until the room started to spin, and then he made his way home. He’d had fun, even though he'd ended his night alone. Robin hums and pours another drink from the pitcher between them - White Peach Sangria this week, and it’s good, though Steve prefers the Bloody Mary they had last time. 

“We're kind of pathetic, huh?”

“I mean, you are,” Steve replies, and shrugs when she gives an affronted Hey! “I might be single, but you're the one who's letting a great girl slip through your fingers because you can’t say no to your fickle ex.”

“She’s not fickle-”

“Where was she last night?” Steve asks, staring Robin down until she says “With me.”

“Mhm. And where is she now?”

Robin frowns hard and grumbles “With Jack.” 

Steve gives her a look, and she sinks down a little in her seat. 

“You know, sometimes I forget that you were friends with the mean girls in high school, and then you hit me with that fucking Carol Perkins face and it all comes flooding back,” she says, and Steve rolls his eyes. 

“Stop being a drama queen, and stop waiting for Vickie to change her mind about Jack. It’s not fair for her to come running to you every time they have a fight if she has no intention of actually leaving him for you. You deserve better, Rob.”

Robin groans and drains the last of her glass. “When did you get so wise and shit?”

“Fuck you,” Steve says, no heat behind it as he kicks her under the table. “I know how relationships work and shit. You’re the one who doesn’t listen to me.”

She kicks him back with a “Yeah, yeah. Come on, let’s finish this pitcher so I can go home and wallow.”

The notification comes in after brunch, once he and Robin have parted ways and Steve’s just parked at the grocery store (he doesn’t take Robin with him to the store anymore, for both of their sakes). 

‘Hey, just want to make sure we’re still good for tonight?’

Tonight? What’s tonight?

It takes him a moment to remember his actions from the night before, to remember the app. Steve’s stomach flips at the vague memory of a conversation and he opens the messenger. He scrolls up, reading his message history with this Eddie person, and oh god. 

Is it possible to get secondhand embarrassment from your own actions? Your very drunk and somewhat horny actions? The guy seemed to take it pretty well, at least, and Steve taps over to his profile out of curiosity.

And yeah, okay, Tequila Steve had a point. He’s never thought about dating a guy before, but this man is hot, just absolutely sexy in a way Sober Steve isn’t prepared for. He had been planning on telling this Eddie guy that he was drunk when he agreed to meet, that he wasn’t interested, but now that would be a lie. Because he’s definitely interested.

He sends a ‘Yup! Still good :)’ and then quickly follows it with ‘I was so drunk last night that I kind of forgot about our conversation, so I’m glad you messaged me!’

Eddie’s reply takes a second, that starting and stopping going on just long enough to make Steve nervous before a message comes through. 

‘Oh damn! I’m glad I did too. Though you did tell me last night that you’re straight, so I won’t hold it against you if you don’t want to meet anymore. I know alcohol can make us do things we normally wouldn’t.’

Oh, he’s sweet. Steve actually does decide to think about it, and flips back over to Eddie’s profile as he does. He goes through the photos again, imagines what it would be like to be close, be intimate with Eddie the way he has with women. It doesn’t scare him the way he thinks it should, because he doesn’t actually think it would be that different. Sex is just sex, right? It’s the person that makes it fun, makes it special. And Eddie definitely seems like a special one.

What reaffirms Steve’s decision is the last photo, where Eddie is holding the acoustic. His eyes catch again on those ringed fingers, on the rough, clearly hand cut neckline of Eddie’s shirt. He thinks about what it would be like to lick the jut of Eddie’s exposed collar bone, and the shiver that runs down his spine has him immediately flipping back to the conversation.

‘I definitely still want to meet. As embarrassing as I was last night, I was telling the truth.’

‘Oh good! Nice to know that sober Steve also thinks I’m cute and is glad I can’t get pregnant.’

Steve groans and drops his head onto the steering wheel a few times. He's never gonna live that one down, is he?

Another message comes through before he can be too mortified, though he almost regrets looking when he sees ‘Unless sober Steve is more upset by that than glad’ which is followed rapidly by ‘It’s okay baby, we can always pretend if you want ;)’

This man is gonna fucking kill Steve.

Hank's on 6th is a little dive bar that Steve has actually been to a few times, when he and Robin had wanted to go drinking but hadn’t wanted to deal with the noise and bustle of the club. It’s cozy compared to other bars in the area, and Steve is happy for the familiarity of the location as he steps inside. He pauses inside the door and glances around, looking for- oh.

Sitting at a nearby table is Eddie, in the flesh. He’s even more stunning in person, with his hair pulled up into a bun, showing off the jewelry in his ears and the long line of his neck. He’s wearing a dark t-shirt and jeans, and Steve can see a leather jacket slung over the back of his chair.

Eddie spots Steve about the same time and waves, inviting him over. He does his own once-over as Steve approaches, and Steve knows what he looks like. He spent long enough in front of the mirror agonizing over his appearance, making sure everything was perfect. His red sweater is comfortable even though it’s a smidge too small, and he can see Eddie’s eyes catch on the way it stretches across his shoulders, on his forearms where he’s rolled the sleeves up. 

“Not gonna lie,” Eddie says as Steve sits down. “I’m kind of surprised you showed up.”

“I said I would. Tequila Steve might not be the smartest, but sometimes he has good ideas.”

Eddie laughs and Steve is overwhelmed with the desire to dig his thumb into the dimple that appears in the man’s cheek. “Well I hope I get the chance to thank him someday.”

Eddie’s photos don’t do him justice, don’t properly convey the energy he has. They get on better than Steve would have imagined, and while the conversation lulls every now and then, it never truly stops. His piercings catch the light, pulling Steve's attention down to his mouth, to the way it moves while Eddie speaks. It’s distracting, and the teasing smile Eddie wears for the conversation tells Steve that he knows.

Steve learns that Eddie works at an assisted living facility, something he never would have guessed based on the man’s appearance. It’s not a job Eddie ever expected to have, but he loves it, loves helping people who need it and gossiping with the old biddies that have taken a shine to him. In exchange Steve talks about his job as a physical therapist, how he recently started his experiential hours so he can specialize in pediatrics. 

(“I feel kind of dumb now,” Eddie says. “Knowing that you’re a whole ass doctor and I just have a CNA.”

“Eddie, I majored in kinesiology. You’re probably better in a medical setting than I ever will be.”)

They talk about their hobbies and interests, pleased to learn there’s a little bit of crossover with everything. They may not know the ins and outs, but Steve has absorbed some knowledge on D&D thanks to the kids he used to babysit, and Eddie likes to watch sports with his uncle to keep him company on his off days.

They sit and talk for a long while, completely unaware of the time passing until Steve looks at his watch and realizes it’s been nearly four hours since they sat down. 

“Holy shit, it’s almost eleven,” he says, and Eddie blinks in surprise. “Oh wow, I had no idea.” 

It’s like they’ve been snapped back into reality, and Steve notices the half dozen beer bottles littering their table along with the bill that’s been there for who knows how long. Steve pays the check - nearly shoves his card into the server’s hand so he can beat Eddie to it - and they both leave cash for the tip before heading out of the bar.

It’s outside Hank’s that the hesitation sets in. This is one of the best dates Steve has been on in a long, long time, and he really isn’t ready for it to be over. He thinks Eddie feels the same, if the way he reaches over to thread their fingers together means anything.

“Do you want to come back to my place?” Steve asks, practically on impulse, and Eddie smiles.

“I would love to, Stevie.” He takes a breath like he wants to say something else, but pauses, and Steve squeezes his hand gently.

“What are you thinking?”

“I’m trying to figure out how to tell you that I want to have sex with you without sounding like a slut who puts out on the first date.”

Well, that’s fair. Steve doesn’t usually have sex on the first date either. He likes the connection that comes with knowing someone emotionally before learning them physically, but there’s just something about Eddie. Steve feels like he knows the man inside and out after just four hours together, and he knows it’s fast but he wonders what it would feel like to wake up next to him in the morning. 

Steve just grins at the blunt honesty and tugs Eddie closer. “If you’re a slut then so am I, because I’m definitely down for that.” 

The drive back to Steve’s place doesn’t take long, and before he knows it he’s locking the door behind them as Eddie sheds his leather jacket. He drapes it over the back of the couch as he looks around, taking in Steve’s apartment. It’s not much, but it’s comfortable, cozy, very different from the sterile house Steve grew up in.

Eddie smiles as he sees the trinkets dotted about, a mix of gifts from the kids Steve used to babysit and his own little knick knacks, but pauses when he sees a photo collage of Steve and Robin on the nearby wall. Steve doesn’t like the way his smile dips down into a frown, and he walks over to wrap his arm around Eddie’s waist.

“That’s Robin,” he says as he pulls Eddie into his side, needing to quell any doubts or misconceptions he might be having. “She’s my best friend in the entire world, and a lesbian, so you can stop pouting now.”

Eddie gives him a bit of a side-eye and says “Not pouting. Just want to make sure you’re not doing this behind the back of an unsuspecting girlfriend or something.”

Steve smiles at the consideration and shakes his head as he turns Eddie to face him. “No girl, Eds, I promise. Just you and me.”

Something about that seems to be the final straw for Eddie because he surges forward, hands landing on Steve's neck as he leans up to press their mouths together.

The first kiss with Eddie is easy. It’s not earth-shattering or life changing, not like Steve thought it would be kissing a man for the first time. It feels like a normal kiss, and honestly that’s more of a comfort to Steve than anything. The fact that it’s Eddie on the other side of the kiss is what makes him shudder, makes him press closer. 

Eddie’s hands push up into his hair, messing up the styling as Steve dips his head to kiss along his jaw. He hums into smooth skin and slides his own hands down to Eddie’s ass, squeezing it briefly before using his grip to drag Eddie’s hips against his own.

He can feel the line of Eddie’s dick through the layers of denim and yeah, that’s different, but not bad at all. Steve warms up to it pretty quickly actually, especially once Eddie starts moaning into his ear, a low “Fuck, baby,” that only encourages Steve to continue. Their mouths meet in another kiss as Steve grinds their hips together, each thrust working to drive Steve absolutely insane.

Eddie’s hands eventually make their way south to ruck up Steve’s sweater, and he breaks the kiss just enough to mutter “Off, get this off,” against Steve's mouth.

Steve laughs but steps back, pulls off his top and drops it carelessly to the floor. Eddie groans and reaches out, not even hesitating before he pushes his hands into Steve’s chest hair. “God, I’ve been wanting to do that since I saw your photo last night,” he mutters, and it takes Steve a moment to remember the picture he’d drunkenly added to his profile. 

It was just a typical shirtless thirst shot he’d taken before a run one day (though he had put a shirt on before he actually left, thank you), because he’d felt good about the way he looked - and clearly Eddie had appreciated the picture as well. Steve shudders as Eddie scrapes his nails down his chest, and he half-expects Eddie to start purring in delight. 

“Is it as good as you imagined?” he asks, biting back a chuckle, and Eddie nods. 

“Better than. So fuckin’ hot. Don't ever shave it, I beg you.”

Steve does laugh at that. He lets Eddie get his fill for a moment before swooping in to kiss him again. He slips his fingers into Eddie’s belt loops and mutters a “Bed?” against his mouth. Eddie hums in agreement and Steve tugs him along, guiding him to the bedroom and only stopping once to grind their hips together.  

He steps back enough to pull off Eddie’s shirt and groans because his nipples are pierced, and fuck if that isn’t doing something for Steve. Thumbing over one makes Eddie shiver and gasp, and he knows that he needs to get his mouth on them as soon as possible. He feels like a predator as he pushes Eddie back, not stopping until the man is sprawled across his bed, a beautiful feast meant just for him.

Steve crawls on top of Eddie and presses his lips to the spider decorating his shoulder before moving down to lick over his nipple. Eddie shudders and pushes his hands into Steve's hair, holding him in place as Steve seals his mouth around the pink bud. The piercing is warm, and the stark contrast between metal and flesh has Steve groaning into Eddie's skin.

He sucks on it, earning a stuttering moan from the man under him and hands tightening in his hair. “Fu-uck, Stevie.” Steve thumbs over the other nipple and pinches it just to hear him gasp again, before continuing his journey southwards, pressing kisses into the tattoos he comes across along the way. He pauses for a moment to suck a bruise into Eddie’s hip, just above his waistband, and the man is practically squirming.

“God, when I agreed to come over, I didn’t think you were gonna be this much of a tease.”

Steve rolls his eyes and bites into the bruise he just created, pulling a low groan from Eddie. “It’s called foreplay, you ass.”

“I’d rather you foreplay my ass,” Eddie mutters, and Steve laughs into smooth skin. He does concede, though, and pulls back so he can slide off Eddie’s jeans and underwear, discarding them to the floor. Eddie’s dick is pretty, a smidge thinner than his own but just as long, and weeping heavily from the pink tip. Steve wants to touch it, taste it, wants to feel the weight of it on his tongue as Eddie fucks his mouth.

“Feel free to touch it, not just look at it,” Eddie says, and Steve smirks. 

“Normally I would, but someone wanted me to skip the foreplay.”

Eddie groans dramatically in response and Steve ignores him as he reaches over into the nightstand to grab the lube and a condom. He drops the items next to Eddie, and the man gives an “Oh shit!” as he grabs the tube. “You actually have lube?” 

“Uh, I'm a grown man, Eddie. Not some 15-year-old that still uses lotion to jack off.”

Eddie rolls his eyes and smacks the bottle against Steve's chest. “Twenty-four hours ago you told me you were straight, excuse me for making some assumptions.”

“Stereotypical assumptions,” Steve tacks on and Eddie rolls his eyes again harder. “Also you might be surprised to learn this, but some women also enjoy anal, so I'm not actually a complete newbie when it comes to this.”

“And here I was thinking I'd have to hold your hand through the whole thing.”

Steve huffs a laugh and slicks up his fingers. “Oh, do you not want to hold hands while I fuck you into the mattress?”

Eddie gasps and brings a hand to his forehead, like a mockery of some swooning maiden as he says “Why Stevie, I think that's the most romantic thing you've said so- ohhh my god.” He groans as Steve pushes the finger deeper, and kicks his shoulder gently when Steve just grins.

“Shut the fuck up,” Eddie spits, but Steve can tell there's no real heat behind it. He just hums, says “I dunno what you're talking about,” as he slides a second in alongside the first. He hooks his free hand under Eddie’s knee and pushes it closer to his chest, exposing him a bit more. 

Steve leans down to press a kiss to Eddie’s neglected dick and curls his fingers at the same time, trying to hit Eddie’s prostate. He knows he’s successful when hands jerk down, sinking into his hair once more as Eddie keens.

“Shit, Stevie-!” 

“Wanna suck you off next time. Wanna pin your hips to the bed and see how much I can take, wanna tease you until you come on my face, in my mouth.”

Eddie shudders and nods, bucks his hips as best he can with Steve’s fingers in him. “Oh fuck, yes. Gonna let me paint your face, baby? Gonna let me be the first cock to fuck that pretty mouth?”

Steve groans a “Fuck yeah, Eds,” and pushes in a third finger, eager to finish his prep but not wanting to rush. He spreads his fingers wide as he leans in again, sinking his teeth into the junction where thigh meets groin, and Eddie's entire body jerks at the bit of pain.

He tugs at Steve's hair, trying to pull him up as he says “Fuck! That's gotta be good enough, need you in me fucking last week, sweetheart.”

Steve shudders and nods with a “Yeah, baby,” as he pulls his fingers free. He stands up and strips off his remaining clothes, not worrying about where they land before he climbs back between Eddie's legs. He can feel Eddie watching as he rolls on the condom, and he's about to make a remark about it when the man says “You know what kind of sucks?”

Steve just hums in response as he scoots closer, until his thighs are pressed against Eddie's ass and all he has to do is push forward just a little more-

“That we’ll have to get tested before we can put my ability to not get pregnant to good use.”

A groan rips through Steve and he drops his head back at the mental image that creates. “Fuck, you can’t just say that.”

Eddie grins, all Cheshire and taunting as he says “Oh, I can’t? I can’t tell you how excited I am for you to come in me, to fill up my ass until I’m fucking leaking- mmh!”

Steve dives down to shut him up with a kiss before he can say anything else, and he can feel Eddie laughing into it. Arms wrap around Steve’s shoulders, holding him close as they take a moment to just make out, all slick and languid like they're not both on the verge of desperation. Steve wraps a hand around his dick and blindly rubs the head against Eddie’s hole before he finally pushes forward.

Even after prep, Eddie is tight, and Steve groans as he slowly sinks in, not stopping until his hips are flush with Eddie’s ass. He rubs his hands over Eddie’s sides as he just waits there, giving the man a chance to adjust. It only takes a moment before Eddie gives a soft “Okay, I'm good,” and Steve holds good on his word. He leans forward, lacing his fingers with Eddie's and pressing them into the bed as he starts a slow pace.

Eddie goes all starry-eyed as he glances at their joined hands, and mutters “Didn't think you were serious about that.”

“I don't joke about hand holding, Eds. It's very important.” That pulls a soft laugh from Eddie and Steve leans closer until he can kiss that smile, can taste the laugh at its source.

It's hands down the best sex Steve has ever had. Eddie is so responsive, all noisy and twitchy and eager. He quickly figures out what Steve likes and doesn't even attempt to keep his mouth shut, just offers a stream of encouragement that’s only broken when Steve finds and abuses that sweet spot inside him.

“Right there, Eddie? Is that it, baby?”

“Uh-huh, fuck, so good!”

Eddie's a fucking vision, with his brown curls slowly escaping the confines of the bun and his eyes glazed over in pleasure. Steve releases Eddie's hands and slides his own down to clutch at the man's slim waist, his fingers digging into the tattoos decorating his skin. He fantasizes about leaving bruises, about leaving his own mark alongside the black ink and fucks into him harder at just the idea. 

“Shit, Stevie! Gonna come, gonna-”

Eddie gets a hand around his dick and barely gets in a few strokes before he’s coming, a loud “Fuckfuckfuck!” escaping him as he spills over his hand and onto his stomach. It’s so fucking hot, and Steve’s hands tighten around Eddie's waist at the sight. His thrusts are a bit wild as he chases his own orgasm, and all it takes is Eddie's reedy “In me, Steve, give it to me-” before it hits him like a fucking truck. 

He doesn't remember the last time he came this hard, his hips grinding against Eddie's ass as he fills the condom before eventually collapsing down onto the other man. They just lay there for a moment, waiting for their highs to settle and their breathing to return to normal, and Steve smiles when Eddie starts to giggle.

“What's that about?” he asks, using the opportunity to press a few kisses along the line of Eddie's shoulder and neck. The man just grins and shakes his head.

“I haven't bottomed in like- three years. Forgot how good it feels.”

That surprises Steve a bit, actually. “Three years? And you just break that streak for some random person you met on the internet?”

“Mhm. You sent me those messages and I was like ‘Wow, I can't believe I'm gonna let this guy fuck me’.”

Steve laughs and nips at Eddie's shoulder. After a few minutes he carefully pulls out and reluctantly leaves Eddie on the bed as he goes to the bathroom to trash the condom and grab a wet hand towel. He cleans Eddie up before tossing the cloth to the floor and laying down beside him. He's instantly wrapped up in Eddie's arms and he sighs happily as they huddle close together.

“Stay the night? I'll make you breakfast in the morning,” Steve offers, and Eddie hums into his temple. 

“With coffee?”

“With coffee.”

Another hum before Eddie nuzzles into his hair, and Steve can feel Eddie press a kiss to the crown of his head. “Then I'd love to stay the night, Stevie.”

Steve wakes up slowly the next morning. The sun shining through the window bathes the room in golden light, making Eddie look ethereal where he lays curled into Steve’s side. He takes a moment to just watch the man, to admire the relaxed lines of Eddie’s face as he slumbers on, unaware.

He doesn’t know the last time he felt a connection with someone this- profound. 

Actually, no - the last time this happened was probably with Robin, the girl who became something closer to him than a sister, the one person who probably knows him better than he knows himself. Being with Eddie feels so similar to those early days with Robin - after they’d gotten locked in the bathroom during a mall fire, not the actual early days when Robin seemingly hated him.

So Steve knows deep in his soul that there’s something about Eddie. Something so special ingrained into his very existence, and Steve’s sure that, if he just gives it a chance, Eddie could change his life.

After a few more minutes of basking in the morning silence, he tries to slip out of bed without waking Eddie, but he knows he’s failed when the arms just tighten around him. Eddie groans out a “Noooo,” and Steve grins. He presses a kiss to Eddie’s hair and says “Gotta let me go if you want me to make your coffee.”

A muffled “Man of my dreams,” as Eddie releases him has Steve chuckling as he climbs out of bed. He throws on a pair of sweatpants and heads downstairs, and puts on some coffee before he does anything else. By the time Eddie joins him, dressed only in his boxers from the night before, the coffee is ready and Steve is stacking pancakes onto a couple of plates. 

Eddie seems more awake as he wraps his arms around Steve, pressing a quick kiss to his shoulder along with a soft “Morning, sweetheart.”

“Morning, baby. Coffee’s on the counter, sugar’s in the jar and milk is in the fridge if you want it.”

Another kiss meets his skin, this one just below his ear, before Eddie is pulling away. Steve finishes plating the pancakes while Eddie makes his coffee, and they converge at the kitchen island. They eat mostly in silence, but it's not uncomfortable. It's easy, actually, to let the quiet settle around them like a warm blanket. But that doesn't mean Steve's thoughts aren't racing.

“So, uh.” Steve pauses, feels almost bashful as he looks up at Eddie. “It's been a really, really long time since I've felt a connection like this, and I may be a little dumb, but I'm not an idiot.” Eddie frowns at Steve's little self deprecating dig, but doesn't say anything as he continues. “I really want to see where this goes, if you're up for it.”

A slow grin breaks out on Eddie's face and he leans in, getting into Steve's personal space. “Why Stevie. Are you asking me to be your boyfriend? After only one date?”

Steve huffs a laugh and slides a hand up to the base of Eddie's neck, feeling and tangling his fingers with the soft hair there. “I’d ask you right now to move in if it wouldn't make me look fucking insane.”

Eddie's expression instantly goes slack with shock, and fuck, Steve's done it again, hasn't he? Said too much, too soon, and lost something good before it even had a chance to go anywhere. He starts to pull away, wanting to give Eddie some space, but he's stopped by two hands settling on his waist, practically clutching the bare skin.

“My lease is up for renewal in three months,” Eddie says, and Steve blinks in surprise. “So maybe at that point we can see where we are? Because you're right. I don't think I've ever just clicked with someone like this before. It feels like- like fucking destiny or something. And I also really, really want to see where this goes.”

Steve gives in to the urge to pull Eddie forward into a kiss. It’s intense and passionate and a bit sticky, the maple syrup making their lips tacky and causing Eddie to giggle into Steve's mouth.

They’re interrupted by the sound of Steve’s phone ringing with a video call, and he knows who it is before he even looks at the device. He answers with a “Morning, Robin,” and is met with a manic “You’ll never guess what happened this morning!”

“I would hope something with Chrissy, but I’m guessing it’s something with Vickie-”

“Vickie called! Jack fucking proposed to her last night!”

Oh shit. “And she said..?”

“They’re on good terms right now, so of course she said yes!”

Steve takes a sip of coffee and hums. “Sounds like it’s time for you to put on some big girl panties and ask Chrissy out on a real date.”

“Steven, you know I hate that word.”

“I will record it and set it as your ringtone if you don’t make some kind of move, Robin. Before Chrissy gets tired of waiting for you to make a decision and makes one herself.”

She groans pathetically and Steve watches her scrub a hand over her face. “I hate it when you make sense. Can we stop talking about me, please? Distract me with something else.”

“Oh, well, uh,” Steve glances up at Eddie who has been watching the interaction with an amused smile. His heart swells with affection and he blurts out “I have a boyfriend.”

Eddie beams at him as Robin blinks, most likely processing before she says “You just told me yesterday that your dating life was practically nonexistent, and now you have a boyfriend? How did that happen?? And moreover, how long have you liked men??”

She sounds incredulous - rightfully so, honestly - and Steve shrugs. “At least twenty-four hours, but it could realistically be closer to something like thirty-six. I downloaded a dating app the night before last and met Eddie on it. We went on a date last night, he stayed over, and I asked him to be my boyfriend this morning.”

“You asked me to move in this morning,” Eddie says, and Robin must catch it because she closes her eyes and takes a deep breath. 

“You’re gonna put every U-haul lesbian in this city to shame,” she mutters before looking at Steve again. “Are you not like- freaking out? I mean, in the near decade I’ve known you, you’ve only dated girls, and now you’re dating a guy? Just like that?”

Steve shrugs and reaches out to take one of Eddie’s hands. “I guess so. You know I’ve always been a roll with the punches kinda guy. And Eddie is- Special. He’s special.”

Eddie is looking at him with those big, brown eyes, wide and a bit awestruck, and Steve can’t resist reeling him close for a quick kiss.

“I am so happy for you,” Robin says, pulling Steve’s attention back to his phone, “but also incredibly upset because now I know I have to follow your advice about Chrissy. Which is just absolutely terrifying.”

“You should have been listening from the beginning. Seriously though, go get your girl, Rob. You deserve to be happy.”

They say their goodbyes after another moment and Steve focuses back on Eddie. “Did you have anything to do today?” he asks as he collects their empty plates and takes them to the sink. Eddie follows, draining the last of his coffee before he replies “Not today. Why, did you have something to do?”

Steve grins and takes Eddie’s mug, setting it on the counter before he scoops the man into his arms. “Other than you?”

Eddie barks a laugh at the line and shakes his head fondly. “Jesus Christ, how did I get my hands on such a dork?”

“Just lucky, I guess,” Steve replies, and tugs Eddie into another sticky kiss. 

Much love to @bramble-berries for brainstorming this with me! (Even if she didn't know it at the time lol.) Also thank you to @sidekick-hero for cheerleading me through the last bit of writing on this! You're an absolute dear! <3

[ki-yomii]

personal taste | jjk

➥ pairing | jeon jungkook x f!reader ➥ word count | 1.3k ➥ warning(s) | 🔞 smut; established relationship, teasing, bent in half, premature ejaculation, implied cum play, implied oral (f receiving), inexperienced!jk ➥ summary | jungkook gets a little too excited and cums early, but he's more than happy to make it up to you. ➥ notes | ✌️idk man, its 2 am. i hope you enjoy lol

💚 masterlist | inbox | AO3 💚

It was safe to say Jungkook wasn’t the most experienced of lovers when you first get together. Idol life consumed his adolescence, and by the time he’s a young adult, too many eyes are on his every waking move.

A quick affair is rarely worth the effort, and the ones that are leave much to be desired. Relegated to liquor-soaked make-out sessions, and quick, dirty fucks that leave him filled with more sweat and regret than satisfaction.

You’d only been dating a few months when he divulged why he got so jumpy any time your hand grazed his thigh, why he broke off your kisses before they got too heated.

He was adorably shy when he expressed how anxious he was about his performance in the bedroom; how the reality might not live up to your expectations.

But he shouldn’t have worried, having more than made up for any shortcomings with his eager to please attitude and boundless enthusiasm.

The number of times you’ve had sex since getting together can be counted on one hand, but he’s leaps and bounds ahead of where he was when you first started being intimate.

It certainly helps that Jungkook is a dedicated student; throwing himself, as he does with everything in life, full throttle into any and all efforts to learn the secrets of your body.

A quick learner, it isn’t long before he can make you cum with a skillful twist of his fingers, a harsh rut of the hips that settles him so deep inside your pussy, your thighs tremble.

Not only is he able to wring orgasm after orgasm out of you, his stamina is insane. Almost to the point where you’re having trouble keeping up with him, having to take little breaks between rounds to gulp down water and catch your breath. 

So… when it happens, it’s altogether unexpected.

But so fucking filthy hot you’re pretty sure you astral project to a higher plane of existence. 

You’d been teasing him all day: the brush of your hand across his ass, the skim of your knuckles over the crotch of his pants, pressing close against the wide berth of his back and whispering soft, nasty little nothings into his ear.

Delighting in the blush that crept up the sides of his neck. The cherry red burn of his ears as he gulped, readjusting himself before shooting you a glare.

Jungkook lasts longer than you give him credit for, though that’s most likely due to his competitive streak. He breaks all the same; however, shoving you into his bedroom as soon as the door to his apartment closes behind you.

So needy and desperate he can’t wait any longer, even if the rest of the boys are due to arrive in an hour.

You only just got undressed, the bed creaking under the combination of your weights when he cages you beneath him. His chest flexes with every hurried breath, his ribs expanding with labored puffs of air. His cock bullies its way inside your pussy, hips slotting into place against yours.

“J-Jungkook,” you whine, your toes digging into his sides as your thighs fall open across his. “So deep, I - haaah -”

The fat head of his cock nudges against your cervix with every little rut, sparks of pain fissioning out and deepening the warmth fizzling behind your belly button.

Thick and long, he stuffs your pussy to the brim every time without fail, stretching you wide until tears cling to your lashes and your nails dig into his shoulders.

It hurts no matter how long he spends prepping you, but you like it better this way. The pain only enhances the pleasure; deepens, and darkens.

And knowing he has to force his cock those last few inches because your pussy can’t take it without assistance always riles you up.

Makes you needy and desperate to take everything he can give like a good girl.

“Mm, I know, baby,” Jungkook’s breath hitches as his teeth tug on his lip ring, his eyes - half lidded and greedy - shadowed by the sweaty curtain of his bangs, “Feels so ffuh - fucking good inside you.”

“Hhn!” Your fingers inch up the corded muscles of his forearms, caressing over the whorls of ink as they shackle themselves to his elbows as he bends you in half. “Right there, right there. Jus like - ohmygod! - like that.”

Jungkook grunts, rocking into the cradle of your hips harder, the shaft of his cock dragging almost completely out only to slide to the hilt in one thrust. His pelvis grinds against the swollen bud of your clit as he holds himself there, your slick smearing into his skin.

He curses under his breath when your walls flutter, trying to milk him for all he’s worth. “Shit! Don’t - don’t do that, baby. I can’t - hnggg - I can’t -”

And then his cock throbs hard once, twice.

A litany of soft, breathy exhalations of pure pleasure accompanies the slick echo of your bodies crashing together. Then his head bends low, the dark briar of his hair clinging to his temples. His jaw drops slack, and a devastated moan punches out of his throat.

Muscles ripple into a full body shiver, Jungkook’s sharp hips stuttering against the backs of your thighs. Sticky warmth floods your cunt, and his hazy, lust-blown eyes stare into yours as he pumps you full of cum.

You groan, blinking up at him, “Did you just-?”

Jungkook’s arms buckle.

Flopping down onto you, a sweaty, panting mess, he tucks his hot face into the crook of your neck. Moist breath puffs across your skin, a ticklish awareness skittering down your spine. Goosebumps rise along your arms.

His heartbeat hammers against your ribs.

“Yeah, I - I…” Jungkook huffs, his nose dragging over the length of your collarbone, tongue flicking over your skin when he licks his lips. “I did. ‘m sorry, baby.”

Breathing in through your nose, you card a hand through his sweaty hair. Swallow down the pleading whines sitting on the tip of your tongue. You don’t want to embarrass him any more than he probably is.

He hasn’t cum this quick since the early days, and you’d rather not ruin the evening by making him spiral.

So even when your pussy flutters, trapped on the edge of an orgasm as his cum leaks out of you, you bite down on your impulses. Resign yourself to being horny for the foreseeable future until you can sneak away and take care of yourself with a vibrator.

“It’s alright, Kook. It happens.”

Your eyes close, and you breathe through your nose, trying to calm the gallop of your heartbeat.

Relaxing seems almost impossible with Jungkook’s constant shifting, but you try your best to get your body on the same page as your mind.

Only for all efforts to go to waste when Jungkook shimmies down between your thighs. The tips of his hair tickle your skin, your lower belly jumping at the sensation.

Furrowing your brow, you peek down at your boyfriend. “Kook, what’re you--?”

Broad palms caress your hips, Jungkook using his thumbs to trace over the jut of bone. His chest glitters under the light, the muscles shifting under his skin almost mesmerizing as he settles on his belly. Forearms hook over the tops of your thighs, and his dark eyes flash with hunger.

His mouth pulls up into an impish smirk. “Can I?” he asks, dropping his gaze to the apex of your thighs. “Please?”

He giggles when he sees how flustered you get. Syrupy sweet, boyish; altogether too endearing for the current circumstances.

“...Are you serious?”

You can’t deny the fresh wave of desire the thought brings - Jungkook with his thick fingers, his tender mouth and soft tongue stroking over swollen, abused flesh - but flap a hand between your bodies in a vague gesture all the same.

“Isn’t that kind of - you just, y’know?”

You aren’t the only one affected by the idea, Jungkook’s cock jerking feebly where it rests against his thigh. A pink tongue flicks out to run along the length of his red-bitten bottom lip, toying with his lip ring as his teeth sink into the soft flesh.

He regards you with predatory anticipation.

“Yeah,” he says softly. “I’ve always wondered what we taste like. Please let me.”

Well… who are you to refuse?

[cherrychilli]

18+ Steve Harrington x F! reader, friends to lovers, skinny dipping, PIV sex, unprotected sex, semi public sex, pool sex WC:1.9K

A/N: Feeling very rusty so I'm attempting to dust the cobwebs off my brain and get back into the swing of things with a little bit of Steve filth.

This will they won't they thing was starting to get old.

The casual flirting between you and your neighbor had ramped up in the last month, but you knew him well enough to realize when he's pulling back on the reins, even if subtly.

Up until now you'd enjoyed the way Steve's gaze wandered over you and the playful banter that tended to edge towards suggestive. You'd even glimpsed the only semblance of 'King Steve' that'd remained ever since he turned his whole image inside out a few years ago — that slight, but thankfully tolerable air of playboy confidence you couldn't find in yourself to dislike despite how you made sure to roll your eyes whenever it appeared.

But things were starting to fizzle out now, you could feel it. This thing that had started to brew between you and Steve seemed to be following the trajectory of a bottle rocket — the chemistry you shared soared for a while but now the chances of things becoming serious appeared to be heading for a nosedive.

Your discerning eyes were too sharp, noticing the flickers of hesitation and trepidation that peeked through when he spoke with you now, less flirting as of late, more awkward floundering and not the adorable kind.

You don't know it yet but the reason was because all those fears he'd thought he'd long outrun had started to shadow him again, afraid of things panning out like they always had in his love life.

The Harrington charm drew the girls in like bumblebees to pollen, everything turning sticky sweet for a while but it always ended the same way — with Steve getting stung.

He's gotten in his head about it — every bad date, every lousy hook up, every ounce of self doubt he'd tried hard to swallow down regurgitating back up in his mind like bile. He'd even begun to second guess if you really wanted him the way he wanted you, scared of messing things up if he were to make a real move because he doesn't want to lose you. Not after all the years of liking you so much.

Oblivious to his internal turmoil, you only know that the waiting's been hell on you, feeling more than a little fed up of all the flirting that hadn't led to anything more than a spike in sexual tension and a bunch of almost kisses a couple of times you'd been alone with Steve.

Almost wasn't good enough.

You wanted to show him that you were serious about him — no more bullshit. You were determined to go after what you wanted, taking it upon yourself to make the first move, knowing it'll have to be something big if you were going to really convince him.

And you have the perfect thing in mind.

~

Given he was supposed to be the only one home at this hour, the sound of swashing water echoing from the pool deck comes off more alarming than anything else.

Ears trained in that direction, Steve quietly steps closer towards the noise, cautiously placing one foot in front of the other like he's walking a tightrope.

Was it robbers?

No, robbers only break in to take your shit, not take a dip, he shook his head, feeling stupid he'd even considered it at all.

Speed running a list of possibilities in his mind, a slight shiver ran through him as he quietly hoped it wasn't another skunk that had wandered too close to the edge again, nearly gagging at the memory of how the scared, drenched animal had rewarded him for saving its life a few months back.

Peering out of the entry way, he reckoned he would have guessed a hundred other things before he ever would have guessed what he saw outside. Dropping his keys and jaw, he finds you wading in his pool. Unbothered and very much unclothed.

"Um...you're in my pool", he states as he steps out, dumbfounded.

"And you're..."

He doesn't say it. He wont, afraid that if he did, whatever's happening might suddenly stop. Hell, it felt far too good to be true, half expecting to bolt upright in bed at any second to find it'd been a dream all along, a tent in his plaid pajama bottoms waiting to greet him.

"I am" you confirm, knowing exactly what he'd meant to say, smiling devilishly.

With the pool lights on, your lack of swimwear is obvious against the blue tiles although the rippling water surface obscures your body enough to prevent him from getting a clear look at you no matter how much he squints in an attempt to focus.

"You sure know how to keep a girl waiting, Harrington", you chide, moonlight making your wet skin glitter like topaz.

"Huh?", Steve shakes his head, the jolt crackling up the length of his spine feeling far too real to be part of a dream. This is happening. This is really fucking happening, thunders and echoes inside his head, the realization making his palms turn clammy — the first time since his teens that a girl's elicited that kind of bodily reaction out of him.

"Got tired of waiting for you to nut up and make a move", you wade closer to the edge of the pool with all the allure of a siren approaching shore, the tops of your breasts showing above the surface.

"I want you, Steve", you beckon to him sweetly. Sincerely. "Come join me. It's lonely in here", you finish with a little pout.

He's never undressed quicker in his entire life — all of those nerves and doubts ironed out of him with that one simple confirmation.

You watch as his belt is unbuckled in a flurry, shirt following as it's tossed off to the side. It occurs to you then to offer him a modicum of privacy because it feels like the right thing to do, placing your hands over your eyes until he submerges himself into the water with you. But not before you submit to another urge, sneaking one quick peek between your fingers, your cheeks growing hot when you glimpse his half hard length dangling between his legs.

Covering your eyes again, you wait for him to join you, growing giddy when you feel him enter the water and wade closer to you.

You're met with that hopelessly moony smile of his when he gently pries your hands away from your face. "You always leave your clothes behind when you trespass or is this a new thing for you?", he asks, pearly teeth peeking out as his smile widens into a grin.

You laugh back, a little surprised that you'd gone through with it yourself. "Gonna beef up security around here if I keep it up?", you joked lightly, earning a chuckle from your neighbor.

"Fuck no. I'll even take down the fence so you don't have to hop it next time", he grinned harder, deviously handsome in the moonlight.

Your toes brush his as you wade a little closer, a shiver running through you despite the warmth of the water you're chest deep in. "It was between this or surprising you in your car", you told him, sharing the plan you'd concocted the night before. "You know— trench coat, hide in the backseat. Pretty classy stuff but then I thought about it a little more and realized it sounded kinda sketchy", you made a face, scrunching up your nose. "Didn't want you to think you were getting carjacked or something", you huffed another laugh.

Steve pales a little, laughing along nervously, the corner of his mouth twitching.

"Hadn't even thought of that", he lied, glad he didn't rush out here swinging his bat like he would have had he not convinced himself otherwise about the robbers.

As the amusement tapers you focus your stare on the rise and fall of Steve's chest and the hair matted against it, pressing a hand there to feel his taught, wet skin.

There's a lull in your banter as his hands find your waist and your own starts to trail down, gliding over the plane of his soft stomach, fingers dipping underwater to skim the coarse trail of hair below his bellybutton.

Your touches are delicate for a start, fingers curling around Steve's erection as you feel him twitch in your palm, your thumb gently sweeping over the bump of a vein before trailing up to find his tip.

You meet his gaze when you glide the pad of your thumb over the head of his cock, smooth and from what you can tell, sensitive from the way his breath stutters and his length flexes in your hand.

The waiting comes to an end then.

Steve leans in as quickly as you do, lips meeting yours, the scent of chlorine strong on your bodies, his chest pressing against your breasts. It's a dizzying minute of his tongue hungrily brushing against yours before he pulls you up by the underside of your thighs, encouraging you to wrap your legs around his waist.

Your body reacts quickly, crossing your ankles behind his back. His shaft nudges your clit from this angle and it makes you whine into his mouth, all needy from being deprived this kind of intimacy because of how he'd held back all those weeks.

He pulls away from the kiss to look as you, cupping your cheek with his hand.

"I know baby, I know. Made you wait for it too long didn't I? Don't worry I'm going to give it to you now, okay?", he coos, one part reassuring one part cocky.

Your core aches with anticipation when he says it, desire heavy and burning in your belly.

"Steve wait", you cut him off before his lips can come down on yours again.

"Yeah?"

"Could you— could you do it rough? that's how I want it", you tell him, digging your nails into his biceps. You're in no mood for anything soft or slow. Not right now. Not after waiting this long.

"Whatever you want— I'll give you anything you want", he promises, leaning in to kiss you again.

It doesn't take long for the swashing to recommence, building up to a loud, choppy splashing. Your back will carry evidence of how he has you pressed against the side of the pool tomorrow, arms wrapped around his neck as his tip meets your entrance and he works it inside, his length rutting into your soft core, punching out a chorus of moans and whimpers wrapped around his name.

Before he's completely lost to the warm, wet tightness of your walls wrapping around him, Steve only prays that none of his other neighbors care enough to peek over because if they did, things were bound to get awkward at the next block party.

"Promise me you w-won't go cold on me again", you beg when he locates that spot inside you, the head of his cock dragging over it just right.

"I promise", he answers, unclenching his jaw to nip at your bottom lip. "Promise me you'll go out with me after this? be my girlfriend?"

It nearly sends you reeling, being asked the question you'd been waiting to hear for weeks now as he's literally inside you, making your orgasm approach faster.

Smiling hard, you're still letting out little uh's and ah's because he doesn't let up his pace, driving his cock into you, all hard and fast just like how you wanted.

You couldn't wait to keep making up for all that time you spent doing anything that wasn't this, gasping out your answer.

"I promise"

[charmercharm3r]

Now go to sleep

BC

Masterlist

warnings: smut, explicit sexual content, bf!chan, piv, fingering, idk witty banter cus he's such a cute meanie like that, idk he's been so teasing on bubble lately I couldn't help myself so ..here..

☆ﾟ

"I'm tired, I'm not going to argue about this."

"I'm tired too, but I can be tired and still care about our relationship!"

Chan had gotten home a half hour ago and was barely stripping his outside clothes, head caught in his shirt when the words left your mouth. He could be menacing when he wanted to be.

Take now, for example. He'd finally wrangled himself out of the material and hadn't even slipped it off his arms when he turned his body to stop and stare at you like you'd just said you committed armed robbery. Brows slightly furrowed, lips pouting at you, Chan had the "fuck around and find out" look down to a T.

"Don't go there." Tone of voice, too. Menacing.

"Don't make me."

But there was the attitude right back. He deserved it for ignoring you the past week, you'd been so understanding until now. You'd reminded him every week for a month until this past Saturday the day he specifically took off so that you could have one date night. Just one. It was the only thing you've asked for since your birthday. And he still forgot.

Forgot or prioritized something else- probably work related- you didn't know or care.

"You promised," your voice shook slightly.

"So did you. You promised you'd understand."

"I've been understanding. You've been ignoring. Me."

The annoyed brow ruffle softened as did the rest of his face when the tears started to well up in your eyes. You didn't wanna cry in front of him, it was the last thing you wanted to add onto his already heavy weighted shoulders, but you couldn't help it. "It's not just your life.

"We sleep in the same bed. We share the same bathroom. You use my shampoo and I steal your hoodies. Sometimes you take my socks from the drawer and it makes you a minute late 'cus you have to make the trip back to the bedroom. Sometimes I accidentally grab your towel after a shower because it's steamy in the bathroom and I can't see, then you shower after me and get confused and use my towel instead. It's probably my fault, but it's not just your life."

Chan dropped his shirt to the floor, annoyance being replaced with guilt. He had been ignoring you, but not purposefully. He knew about date night and let his boss, his colleagues, everyone get in his head that the only way to prove himself and his capabilities was to work himself to death. Death by heartbreak because the sadness that radiated off of you was so painful he was sure that that was exactly what was happening to him.

He took the few steps to stand in front of you and reach out to cup your cheeks, thumb catching the slowly rolling tear. "Your towel is softer, anyways."

You hated how easily he could make things better, laughing and sniffling as you leaned your head into his palms. "I wash our towels together, that doesn't even make sense."

Kisses were smothering your face in the next moment, warmth making the tears fizzle from behind your waterline to be replaced by the need to grab him, hold onto him and never let go. You melted in his arms so quickly, there was no evidence that you'd been crying in the first place.

And when he kissed your lips, you forgot why you were sad in the first place. For a second, at least. The lingering hurt was still there, not as potent, but definitely still there.

"I like using your towel because it's yours," he murmured into your mouth, hands wandering down to press your body against his shirtless one. "Your shampoo smells better than mine. Still smell it throughout the day and think of you." Guided back onto the bed, he covered you entirely to shield you away.

Kisses on both cheeks. "Your socks are cute." Kisses down your neck. "I know they're yours because of the colorful designs." Kisses to your palms and finger tips. Down your body and stealing your top away to plant more across the expanse of your belly until your body started to overheat. "I take them on purpose."

"Then you grumble at me when you're late on purpose, too?" You were teasing back, if the smile you wore was anything to go by.

"Yeah, to get you to kiss me before I leave. You forget if I don't."

"Why don't you just ask me, then?"

"It tastes a little sweeter when you think you came up with the idea on your own." Chan smirked back up at you before venturing further to rid you of your bottoms so that you were left bare before him.

You would never admit it to him, but you forgave him as soon as his shirt came off. You just like when he works for your forgiveness, it reminds you that he does still truly care.

"You're still wearing pants," you breathed heavily when he spread your legs so he could slot between them, the rough denim brushing your aching core.

"Mhm," he mumbled back.

"Take them off."

Chan stopped his kissing rampage and pulled back with that fucking look that made you want to slap him silly. "Why should I?"

It was your turn to be annoyed. "Because I'm trying to fuck my boyfriend."

"Vulgar," he teased, placing a cheeky peck to the tip of your nose. "How badly do you want it?"

Tender touches roamed your thighs and love handles, getting you into a position on your back you knew rather well with him as your partner in it. "Not want, need."

Chan chuckled against your skin, burning like hot coal in the path he took further south, past your cunt and down your legs to pepper kisses around your calves and ankles as he sat up, taking your limbs with him. He maneuvered you to hang your legs over his shoulders so he looked down at you. "Is that really all it took, baby?"

"You haven't done anything yet. I'm still upset."

He bit his lip and raked his eyes up and down your body. "I see how it is."

Cryptic as always, he never gave away more than necessary.

But his body language is impossible to misread. Through his jeans, you could see the tent in his pants that you knew was probably painfully rubbing against the harsh material. He wanted it as badly as you did, but didn't want to be the first one to cave.

Before he could move again, you locked your ankles around his neck and tugged him down, "you were being so nice to me, what happened?"

"Make a little more noise for me, baby."

His hands had snuck their way to your core, fingers running through your folds before you had processed his words. You were doing exactly as he asked, not by choice. He provoked the noises out of you with precise, practiced moves against your clit, practically stringing them out of you like another one of his musical instruments.

"Please," you whined, threading your fingers in his hair hoping he'd cave.

Chan laughed again, "I don't think so. Not loud enough."

Prodding against your hole made another whimper crack through your restraint. You weighed your options and both would lead to an orgasm, you were sure. But you didn't know which route you wanted take more- letting him talk you down into submission or teasing him back until he fucked you into it.

Then his fingers broke the surface, plunging into you slow but deeply. The stretch was already proving to be more than you could handle, head falling back into the mattress and letting chants of his name fill the room. Chan loved it, drooling over how easily he got you under his reign.

"Baby, please. Wan' it," you grabbed his hand to halt his ministrations. Chan laughed at your sudden flip in attitude.

"Fine," he feigned compliance, knowing he would give you anything you asked for if you kept looking at him like he held your world in his hands.

He did, but he doesn't need to know that just yet.

Chan unzipped his pants and shoved them down his hips along with his boxers, just enough to let his cock spring free. Clearly, he was barely containing himself seeing as leaking precum made his tip glisten.

"Here," he presented himself like a present, not moving. Chan simply waited for you to take what you wanted. When you did, he smiled, proudly this time.

You used the leverage on his shoulders to scoot down the bed and reached between your bodies to let him slip past your entrance. Oh, he fit like a perfectly tailored glove, every time.

He let you use him, only providing some stabilization as you fucked yourself back and forth, up and down, any which way you could to reach the high you so desperately needed from him. Until you couldn't anymore. All you had to do was stop, let out a huff, and look up at him with those fucking eyes, and Chan folded.

Literally folded, hunching over you and cooing, "okay, okay. I'll do all the work. Only because you look so cute when you try to fuck me."

He didn't need to go very fast, just the right angle to press your sweet spot like a button. The wet, pornographic sounds of your bodies pulling apart and colliding, with his name falling from your lips and his noises of pure pleasure, it wasn't very long until the both of you were arching into one another and letting the euphoric waves crash onto shore.

Chan slumped onto you, bodies tired and feeling entirely too cuddly to clean up any more. Doing the bare minimum and kicking off his pants while not even bothering to pull out, he laid his head into the crook of your neck and smothered you entirely.

"Date night. This weekend." You grumbled into his hair, getting comfortable.

"Whatever you want. Now go to sleep," Chan nuzzled his nose into your skin, letting your warmth take over his senses.

Draping your arms over his shoulders and holding him close with a kiss on the top of his head, you mumbled back, "don't tell me what to do."

☆ﾟ

tags: @sensitiveandhungry @babebatter @changbinluvr @epiphanynaffit @fawnpeaks @linovely @dumplinbokkieracha @finnydraws @naturules @djeniryuu @hamburgers101 @skzhomiehopper @yesv01 @hyunjinsamdl @dazzlingligth @alexis-reads-fics @0002linoskitten @chillichillicrabcrab23 @zerefdragn33l @straycrescent @binnies-donuts @soldierstangirl-blog @bakedlilgoonie @levanterlily @shelbyyy44 @yeetmehome @in2heartz @astroodledream @the-sweetest-rose @lilbugs-things @viviennenstan @staurdvst @alex--awesome--22 @imzenning @jeyelleohe @iadorethemskz @skyvastbunny @mamabymychem @katsukis1wife @woozarts @noellllslut @straykids5star

[hana-no-seiiki]

Would you do a second part of Damián x Cat!villain!reader? Or maybe something with a different plot, but I need it too much 😵‍💫

I don’t usually entertain part 2 asks but cause it’s you my adorkable Lucas, I shall. I’m adding the other boys and some wild cards for good measure.

tw/cw: yandere, dick’s part gives me major second hand embarrassment but maybe that’s a me issue, (implied) jason has seggs with your unconscious body (but it’s consensual). damian is aged up but still younger than reader hence the condescending way of speech the latter has for him.

ROOFTOP TALKS W/ THE BOYS

☁️ . . . w/ Dickie Boi

When you were dating it was a lot of you flirting and him asking you to be a bit more professional. And then you promptly reminding him that your profession is being a thief.

And that you were taking that profession seriously by stealing his heart.

Kisses in the rain were pretty much your guys’s thing. As much as your cat heart hated being wet.

When he became Nightwing and after Jason’s death, you guys didn’t break up immediately. Just fizzled out. Long talks about everything and anything became short greetings and small talk until you two officially ended it.

Nowadays Dick tries his hardest to get your attention, he shows off a lot. Ups the romanticness of it all. Brings you all around the city for dates before you two chill on your favorite spot.

Dick felt great. He just spent an entire night out on a date with his first love, some might argue that you’re his only true one too. You two haven’t been able to hang out due to the chaos of life and Jason. But finally he was able to have you for himself for once. No Tim to watch you two through the cameras (he made sure all of those were unavailable), no Damian to stalk you two within the shadows (it took a while, but he managed to convince the big ol’ bat to keep the youngest occupied), and no vigilante business he had to deal with.

There was just one last thing. A kiss. (He wanted sex, to feel you around him again. But considering you two just got back into the swing of things he was willing to wait)

He closed his eyes, and leaned forward.

Only to be met with air.

And then the ground.

“Uhm. Did you just — I mean I know I look cute tonight and all — but did you just try to kiss me, Grayson?” You had only managed to narrowly dodge the action. A little amused by the way he’s currently making out with the floor, but mostly confused and somewhat terrified.

Dick groaned, of all the things to put him on the ground this week. “I thought - I thought we were…”

You looked at him, blinked a few times, and managed to utter out, “Dude.”

☁️ . . . w/ Hubby Toddy

Imma be honest with you. You two bone 80-90% of the times you guys meet.

The only reason that it’s not 100% is because of the danger you two are in for that 10-20%

The vigilante/villain lifestyle and environment isn’t ideal for boning 24/7 y’know.

The reason why you guys fuck so often is cause Cat Villain! Reader being the menace they are only has to remind Jason that he died a virgin for you two to get down to business.

The Batboys are obsessed with proving themselves/ a point in general after all. So you often play them like a fiddle with just a few words.

Aside from that, a lot of your rooftop talks are you being snarky towards each other. Jason asking you to stop risking your life with heists and you vice versa with his vendetta.

Which usually leads to anger fucking but I digress.

You two often snack on the greasiest, unhealthy food while together.

Sometimes you spend hours talking about what he missed while he was gone. Of course he already knows everything. He kept tabs on you and whatnot. But hearing you speak gives him a sense of calm like no other.

Cuddling ftw. Jason adores enveloping you.

He likes doing stuff that proves that you exist?? Like that you’re next to him. That both of you are alive in that moment.

“‘M sleepy.” Your eyelids were beyond heavy at that point. Jason wanted you to be up for every single round, and it seemed like his stamina was endless.

Usually you’d pass out and he’d just continue getting off using you but that night he gave you a challenge. Something about wanting to see the way your pretty eyes as he ruined your insides.

“Too much action for you tonight, kit?”

“Mhm.”

“Go to sleep. I’ll watch over you.” He shifted your body in a more secure position, wrapping his large arms around your form.

“Promise me you won’t disappear?”

“I’m here always.” He let out a deep breath.

As soon as he made sure you were out cold he continued,

“Not even death will keep me away from you, baby.”

☁️ . . . w/ Timsies Whimsies

Most of your hang outs are spent indoors

Otherwise it’d be you hovering over his shoulders as he works on his projects.

Most of your rooftop times with Tim are spent in silence, playing video games, or board games.

Sometimes you two would spend hours playing and voicing cheesy dating sims.

But sometimes you use the time to get him to sleep.

You two are very much opposites when it comes to sleep times. Like if we go full on cat mode here, you prolly sleep off like 70% of your life.

I really shouldn’t be writing this while I’m sleepy as hell shouldn’t I?

Tim had never slept so well in his entire life.

All he remembered before being lulled into dreamland was you singing, patting him on the head, and some laughter before everything went dark.

But now he wishes he never slept at all.

“Is this . . . an edit of us a kids—“

Tim slammed his laptop shut so hard he’s pretty sure he’d broken it.

You looked at him incredulously. How long had you been snooping through his stuff? How did you even manage to unlock it? He made sure it was inaccessible even to Bruce.

“I . . . I read this one fanfic . . . that we met as kids and grew up together.” He confessed.

Yes, Tim gets brainrots over [Cat Villain Name] x Reader / Red Robin fanfics. Could you blame him?

“Honestly that’s pretty cute and wholesome. The other things you have there on the other hand . . . “

“I’ll pay for all of your boba expenses for a year if you forget about this.”

“A decade and I’ll never look through your shit again.”

“Deal.”

☁️ . . . w/ Damie Baby

Up until recently your rooftop meetings have been an even more snarky version of Jason’s with less hatefucking more … hating.

While Dick is more extravagant with how he shows off. Damian is more on the ‘I don’t know what you’re talking about I’m just this awesome’ side of the spectrum.

It took him a while to finally figure out that you being a menace is more of a facade if anything

And boy did it make him get a romantic boner when he found out

Like it went from you teasing him to hell and back to him turning the tables

“Wow, ain’t it past your bedtime, Damie?”

“Not my fault I can’t get a wink of sleep without you beside me.”

“. . .Ah.”

Aside from that you like roping him into playing games and basically all the things he missed out on being trained to be as an assassin.

He in turn does more traditional courting methods on you. Like buying you flowers, having slow dances.

Sometimes you do each other’s henna.

(He definitely is smug about it when other members of the batfam ask)

He often scolds you about reading so much late into the night…and insists he reads everything for you while you sit prettily on his lap

His favorite activity is running his hands through your hair as you lay your head on his lap while he dictates a book out loud. Usually it’s non fiction so that A) you’d sleep faster, and B) he gets his readings for uni in.

☁️ . . . w/ Bruce ig

“Hey, loser.” You purred, appearing from the underneath Batman’s cape.

Without a beat, he replied, “[Cat Villain Name].” and nothing else. He does not move. Doesn’t even make an attempt to seem affected by your antics.

“Awe, I missed you too!” You hugged him tightly and gave a pat for measure.

You were about to let when you felt a weight atop your head.

He was… giving you a headpat? Albeit awkwardly.“Who are you and what did you do to—“

“Treat them well.”

And he disappears.

Hey, wasn’t that your move?

In anycase,

It’s about time that Bruce learnt,

if you can’t beat em, join em.

[matrixbearer2024]

Reunited Again Aren't We?

Vox x CollegeStudent!Reader

A/N: Lololol I felt bad I left you guys on a cliffhanger in "Troubles Unforeseen" so here's Vox's POV to the whole thing. Bro already has minor panic episodes when you go inactive so let's see how he deals with the fact you're just entirely gone. Oh and this chapter will feature a bit of the iconic radio demon because trolling Vox will never be unfunny to me HAHAHAHA.

A/N: This interlude's gonna be a wild ride, it's also gonna have some lore dumps because of Lucifer lolol. Hence it is fucking LONG- Btw please send me ideas for Vox and Reader now that they've reunited in death. Fluffy, angsty, smutty, doesn't really matter hahaha, I'm still going for the slowburn btw so please keep that in mind XD ANYWAYS- I hope you guys enjoy this interlude and as always, happy reading!

There was something wrong.

Like, really really wrong.

At least to a certain technology overlord.

Vox just couldn't get rid of the sick feeling he had in his gut.

It had been just a few hours after you said you'd leave for the party.

Knowing that, he tried to just distract himself with his work and hoping the feeling would go away.

Only to find himself counting minutes as nothing seemed to change.

Against his better judgement, he found himself shooting you a quick message.

He was just checking in on you, no harm no foul right?

"Hey doll, how's the party?"

He stared at the phone for a bit, wishing you'd reply and quickly put his paranoia and nerves to rest.

Instead, Vox was quickly reminded that he had a broadcast in a few minutes by his secretary.

Fuck.

He just really couldn't shake that ominous feeling.

Despite that, he put on a charming smile and just went about his business.

Unfortunately, he'd lost track of time after getting swarmed up by work.

So it was only hours later that Vox was able to check back in on you.

And to his dismay, there was still nothing from your end.

You didn't even see his message.

He tries to convince himself that he's just being paranoid.

That there really wasn't anything wrong.

But as he was staring at the screens connected to your gadgets hoping for even just the slightest activity-

The one that showed your phone suddenly fizzled out into static and abhorrently loud white noise.

He recoiled from the loud noise before the panic finally settled in.

Vox had known you for almost two years-

And this hadn't happened once.

The screen where your phone's interface had once been just went back to being one of his typical monitors.

Displaying statistics, graphs, surveillance and whatnot.

The overlord quickly checked if he could still interact with your laptop and tablet and breathed a sigh of relief when he could.

Especially when he could still control that little desktop version he made in his likeness for you.

So, maybe things didn't entirely go to shit.

But still-

What fucking happened?!

He kinda goes off the walls blowing up your notifications or trying to get your attention through the devices he was still tied to.

Which only makes his anxiety worse when there's still no response from you at all.

At this point, it's been a few hours since you've completed dropped off the radar and Vox was just not having a great time.

Were you still at the party or something???

That was of course until a news article appeared as a notification on your laptop.

Vox knew he shouldn't have cared about it much, it was probably just another one of those internet clickbait things anyway.

Especially with the headline.

"Students Injured by Drunk Driver, One Dead"

Who wouldn't think that was an exaggerated story?

But something in the back of his mind demanded that he check it.

It was probably the paranoia filling up with just all the worst possible scenarios.

The overlord just shook his head, he'll check it just to prove to himself you weren't part of it.

Just anything that could tell him that you were okay.

But the second he opened the article to read through it-

Vox immediately felt his stomach drop.

He could immediately identify the bloodied individuals in the headline picture.

It was your group of friends that had gotten caught in that accident.

And it was you who'd gotten killed.

Seeing you bloodied and battered in the outfit you so proudly showed him mere hours ago made him feel downright horrid.

It was like he couldn't even breathe.

No-

No way!

It couldn't be, it was just someone that looked like you!

It had to be!

Was what the overlord tried to tell himself.

But when he scrolled down the page and saw your name written in the article as the one unfortunate death-

Vox knew for certain that he didn't see wrong.

The sick feeling he'd been getting was his instincts giving him a warning.

A warning he didn't heed.

And it costed you.

He sat there in his chair for a minute trying to process it all, especially when the overwhelming guilt finally hit.

Vox wasn't ever one to feel that way, especially in his ruthless line of work.

Not to mention how he generally is a cutthroat businessman who would do anything to get what he wanted.

But when it came to you, he felt immense regret for not having better painted his worry.

That he didn't tell you something felt really off.

It was a new kind of weight at the moment, especially when he was still shell shocked from the blitzkrieg of information.

And even if you still chose to go to the party-

He still could have warned you.

And that was a fact he couldn't let go.

Holding his screen in his hands, Vox just sat there trying to calm himself down.

He definitely couldn't just go back to work like this.

This was bad.

He couldn't remember the last time he felt this kind of overwhelming anxiety.

Was that it?

Would he ever see you again?

Or had he lost you for good?

The overlord was about to kind of just let his emotions run it's course until another realization hit him.

It only popped up in his mind when he saw some random surveillance footage of the city on another one of his monitors.

If you were dead-

There was a chance you could be down here.

He highly doubted it given your nature-

But there was still a chance.

He hadn't lost you yet.

So that was how Vox found himself rapidly traveling through wires and cameras all over pentagram city just holding onto a thread of hope that you would be around somewhere.

Velvette had given him an odd look when he just bolted of the Vee tower like his own ass was on fire but he couldn't bring himself to care.

The priority was you.

As he had unfortunately realized over time.

Zapping himself around through some cables, and cameras wasn't hard.

Tiring as he continued to do it but moving around like a shock of electricity was nothing new to the overlord of technology.

The problem now being that Vox had absolutely no idea where to even begin looking.

Pentagram city was huge, there was his tech and products in nearly every corner.

Aside from Alastor's stupid hotel-

And maybe cannibal town-

So it wasn't that difficult for him to get places.

But where would he even start?

It was unlike him to do something in such a sporadic manner.

Appearing here, appearing there-

Just to check, just to see.

He'd completely lost his cool in his panic and tried to picture what you'd look like as a sinner.

If there's one thing Vox had grown to recognize and love about you, it was your bright eyes.

That gaze that always looked at him with either cheer or mischief.

He was certain that wouldn't have changed even if you were launched into heaven or hell.

Problem was that didn't narrow his options at all.

How was he supposed to know how your other physical features would translate once you were down here?

Hell, he had a TV for a head!

The overlord zapped himself out of a nearby CCTV camera with a huff.

He couldn't keep traveling like that unless he wanted to exhaust himself before he'd even searched half of the pride ring.

So he straightened out his bow and brushed off his suit before just walking down the sidewalk and subtly searching that way.

He wasn't phased when some sinners took pictures of him, nor did he have the capacity to even care.

As long as they didn't get in his way, he left them be.

So imagine his surprise at the sense of familiarity he got passing by someone staring at the display TV screens on one of his many stores.

He swears he's never seen the person before, but there was something about their vibe that just hit like a sense of Deja vu.

Looking over at the sinner that seemed to even be amused at one of his broadcast reruns-

He got a good look of your face.

Your gaze really didn't change.

"Huh, so this is what he does down here. Goofy ass TV-"

And that was your voice.

He wouldn't mistake that anywhere.

"(Y/N)?"

You screamed in shock before you turned your equally surprised gaze to him.

When you met his eyes, Vox knew for sure it was you.

"Vox!!!"

You dropped the bag you were holding and immediately tackled him in a hug.

The overlord opened his arms instinctively to catch you, but he was caught off guard by your sudden movement that he ended up falling backwards and landing on his ass with you in his hold.

He couldn't really say anything when you were just rambling on and on into his chest about who knows what.

Vox couldn't even keep track of what you said.

He was just too relieved to still have you around.

It took a brief moment for him to tighten his hug on you, fearing that if he let go you would disappear.

The both of you stayed like that for a good while, until a certain princess Morningstar and her girlfriend found the two of you.

"(Y/N)???"

"(Y/N) get away from him!"

Vox could only compare how fast you whipped your head around to the times he'd caught you doing something silly.

Subconsciously his hold tightened on you as Vaggie approached, how in Lucifer's name did they even know you were here?

"No! I'd been looking for Vox ever since I ended up down here! I know he's not going to hurt me!"

He was more surprised at how quick you were to defend him, especially since-

Wait-

You'd been looking for him ever since you ended up in hell?

He couldn't catch the rest of the conversation you had with Vaggie and Charlie as he was too busy buffering.

By the time he'd finally been able to pay attention again, you were helping him stand back up with a bashful smile.

And that was when his worry finally reared it's ugly head.

"Wh- How the fuck are you even down here?! I told you to be careful and you'd gotten yourself killed?!"

"As if that's my fucking fault! How was I supposed to know I was gonna die that night?!"

The both of you go back and forth for a little while and you slowly calmed Vox down from his emotional rollercoaster.

He only noticed he was shaking slightly when you grabbed his hand and smiled at him.

A smile Vox was scared he'd never even see again.

He felt a little funny with your hand in his, not to mention just how small your palms were against his own.

"I'm okay now, see? You're such a worry wart."

"I could've lost you, why wouldn't I be?"

You just flick his screen with your free hand in response, but Vox didn't miss the slight red that dusted your cheeks accompanying your pout.

It was only then that he was able to get a good look at you.

He wanted to both laugh and scream at the fact you seemed to have taken traits of a doe, ears and all.

It was like Alastor just had to give him a middle finger no matter what he did.

He also noticed your outfit was the same as the one you had died in, which was probably a hint that you hadn't been down here for long.

Plus, you were just...

Short.

Well, you only stood up to his chest so you just seemed small in comparison to him.

A soft cough brought his attention away from you.

Ah.

Right.

"Hey there Mr. Vox! I see you're well acquainted with (Y/N)!"

Vox was about to just shrug off Charlie's greeting and leave with you when he noticed your stern gaze.

Oh fine, he'll play nice.

"You can just call me Vox, princess. No need for the formalities. It's a pleasure meeting you!"

He returned, extending his free hand to shake with his signature grin propped up on his screen.

Charlie just smiled and shook his hand, introducing herself and Vaggie.

Well, he already knew who they were but he played along.

"Oh just call me Charlie and this is Vaggie, we were actually just shopping with (Y/N) before you appeared?"

Huh?

Vox raised an eyebrow at you but you just nonchalantly pointed to the dropped groceries nearby the two of you just sitting on the sidewalk.

So that was what you were holding before you tackled him.

Before he could respond to Charlie however, you beat him to it.

"Saaaaaay why don't you go back to the hotel with us?"

"Excuse me?"

"I mean I'd reckon it's not like you have anything else to do if you're out here."

Vox didn't really know how he was supposed to react first.

One, he was done with the day's work so you had him kind of cornered.

It wasn't like he could say no to you anyway-

And two, the hotel-

If Charlie and Vaggie were here with you then he could assume what hotel you were talking about.

And he was absolutely livid because he knew fucking Alastor was there.

Alastor.

And you were staying there?!

Though it seems like you heard his thoughts and poked his screen to snap him out of it.

"Oh and don't worry about Alastor, I've been a pain in his side ever since I came to the hotel. He's just really easy to piss off, kind of like you actually- and it's entertaining to watch."

Vox just gave you an annoyed glare from the comparison to which you shrugged.

Though when he weighed his options, maybe it was for the best that you stayed at the hotel despite his rival being there.

It was probably the safest space in hell at the moment-

Especially with how they were able to drive away the exorcists.

That and...

He wasn't so sure about having you in the same space as Valentino.

The pimp already blew up at him when you were just on his phone-

How much more if you guys were in the same room?

He broke from that train of thought though when you just suddenly started messing with his bow tie.

Tugging and poking, Vox couldn't help but find your behaviors as puzzling as it was cute.

He gaze softened slightly at you before he chuckled.

"Just what do you think you're doing doll?"

"Messing with your tie, what else?"

"Hmm, I can see that. Mind telling me why?"

"Cuz I can? Besides- do you wear this outfit all the time?"

"Only when I'm working, aren't you curious."

"Eh, it's all I've seen you wear so I figured I'd ask. Besides, this is the first time we've physically met."

Vox missed the weird glance Charlie and Vaggie gave the both of you.

Not that he would've noticed anyway when you were busy taking up all his attention.

Eventually, you were able to talk the tech overlord into walking you back to the hotel.

He felt a little weird when you finally let go of his hand to pick up the groceries you'd dropped but he wasn't sure why.

Well, more like you were dragging him along.

Charlie and Vaggie were talking excitedly in the front as he just strolled alongside you.

He wasn't really paying attention to them.

"I don't actually know much about what happened in the accident, just that it was a car crash. Speaking of- how did you know I died?"

"A news article popped up on your computer, I almost thought it was clickbait at first."

"Huh, well at least I ended up on the news!"

You both fell seamlessly into conversation all the way on your walk.

And despite you just behaving the same Vox was familiar with, seeing your reactions in person was a completely different experience.

Your energy was almost contagious even.

Vox just intended to drop you off at the hotel and return to his tower-

But you being you, decided to drag him inside despite his protests.

Charlie and Vaggie went ahead inside with the groceries while you once again grabbed Vox's hand to take him inside.

The overlord could already feel all eyes on him the second he stepped through the doors.

Talk about awkward.

"Greetings old pal! What brings you around here?"

Vox visibly cringed when he heard Alastor, forcing his trademark smile onto his face before looking at the deer.

Everyone already seemed to be taking cover for the inevitable fight that was going to happen between the two overlords when-

"Cut the shit Alastor, I don't need you antagonizing Vox when I want to chill out with him."

Vox didn't even have room to reply when your voice immediately cut through the tension like a knife through butter.

Even he looked at you with slightly widened eyes, did you just not fear Alastor at all?

In hindsight, Vox realized you didn't seem to fear him at all when you guys met so was this really unexpected?

The radio demon only narrowed his eyes at you in annoyance, static starting to surround him and you simply crossed your arms.

"If this is meant to be scary, I suggest trying something else. Cuz, you're honestly kinda just being creepy."

Alastor tilted his head before suddenly laughing off your words, your own deer ears pinning back in irritation.

"Why I was just trying to say hello my dear! No need to get so hostile!"

"Don't call me that. It's either my name or nothing ya weirdo."

That piqued Vox's interest, you never had any issues with his petnames-

And yet it seems like you had every bone to pick with his rival.

Was that because of him???

He bit back a laugh and just continued to spectate your exchange.

"If you do insist (Y/N), but I will say you have a terrible taste in companions."

You just flipped Alastor the bird and Vox raised an eyebrow at you.

He didn't even have to say a word to the deer before he disappeared back into the shadows.

"So what was that about who antagonizing who?"

"So much as say another word about this exchange I'm going to punch your screen in Vox."

"That's if you can reach it dollface."

And just like that, you both fell back into your usual banter.

The others would've thought you and Vox were arguing if it weren't for the seemingly genuine grins on both your faces.

There wasn't an air of hostility around you and Vox like when you confronted Alastor.

It was friendly, which was... weird to say the least.

All the more for the current residents of the hotel.

You were a new arrival, so the fact you were so buddy-buddy with one media overlord while having every bone to pick with the other was a little confusing.

Not to mention that Vox was kind of just... there.

Like he wasn't trying to strike up a deal, or even do anything to the hotel.

Was he there just for you???

That fact made them more concerned about your backstory than anything.

When a lull in the conversation between you and Vox finally hit, Angel spoke up.

"Say uh, toots. How'd you end up down here?"

You didn't seem to mind the nickname this time, instead simply shrugging nonchalantly.

Vox was sure now you just said you had problems with it because it was Alastor.

"That's actually a good question. I've got no idea."

"Seriously? Then how do you explain the fact you're friends with like- hell's biggest media overlord?!"

"Oh that? I met Vox when I was alive. No biggie though."

Vox just snickered from everyone's dumbfounded expressions.

Of course he could leave it to you to completely misunderstand just how important the title of "overlord" is.

"I think I might be able to help figure out why you're down here (Y/N)."

It almost entirely caught Vox off guard when Lucifer of all people suddenly made his presence known.

Not to mention the guy was just really short.

Like- wow.

You'd think with all the paintings and tales he'd be a bit more intimidating too but nope.

Vox just looked over at you next to him while you just gratefully gave Lucifer a hug and accepted his offer.

Seems like he wasn't wrong when he mentioned that you could easily make friends anywhere in the past.

The overlord nodded his head slightly to acknowledge the king of hell but was more focused on what he was going to do to help.

It wasn't like they could just watch your entire life on rewind-

Or could they?

Vox just watches as Lucifer uses his magic to form this... golden orb thing in front of everyone.

So color him shocked when it suddenly starts playing some of your memories.

From when you met him because of the ouija board incident-

Up until the point you died.

Was he the reason for your damnation???

Was that why the orb showed that??

"So that's how you guys know each other- don't see anything that could've caused you to be down here though. Let's go farther back."

What-

Now the overlord was completely stumped.

Just what.

Okay, maybe he jumped to conclusions too soon.

Apparently, from skimming through your memories- it seems like the main reason why you were down here with the rest of them-

Was because you stole a candy bar when you were like- five.

"And you were worried about not meeting me."

"I mean, how was I supposed to know I was damned since I was FIVE?! What the hell is this bullshit?!"

Vox could only laugh at you throwing a hissy fit, everyone else around you still being a little confused and dumbfounded that you were in hell for such a small and kind of idiotic reason.

"It's not funny Vox! I can't believe I'm stuck down here because of a fucking candy bar!"

"I thought you didn't mind being down here?"

"Oh trust me I don't, I'm good with wherever you are. But I could've at least gone down for a cooler reason! Fucking hell!"

He couldn't help but smile fondly as you continued to rant.

It wasn't the first time he'd seen you like this, but he always found it cute anyway.

Screens between you both or not.

[haunting-venus]

enter, sandman

↳ neteyam x fem!omatikaya!reader

content warnings | smut ( minors dni ), somnophilia, oral ( f ), praise and some dirty talk, desperate neteyam, masturbation ( m ), characters are aged up !

word count: 1886

notes | pretty light on the actual prompt but here is my first submission for romancing pandora ! day one — somnophilia, turned out pretty fluffy but who doesn’t love some pussywhipped neteyam, enjoy friends

na'vi dictionary | syil — meer deer ; olo’eyktan — male clan leader ; yawnetu — loved one / lover / beloved person ; tewng — loincloth

You and Neteyam had been circling each other your entire lives, opposing forces drawn to one another despite all your innate differences. You admired each other from afar for years, skirting looks and kind greetings eventually evolving into shared dinners and stolen touches beneath the eclipse.

It was new and terrifying, having the eyes of the future Olo’eyktan so filled with adoration and lust and hope whenever they laid on you.

When Neteyam finally approached you officially to ask for you to be his—in body, in soul, in life—you were sure the earth beneath you shook with the force of your love. You were euphoric, giddy with the prospect that the man you desired so fully from the time you were children wanted you as well.

Some questioned his choice, though it was always clear to you how well you fit in each other’s lives. You weren’t a skilled hunter or forager, but you had a kind heart and strong mind, making you perfect for teaching the younglings of the clan. Neteyam was a born warrior, a boy made of steel bones and gunpowder. Where he had to be strong and immovable, you could be adaptable and kind, giving each other a perfect balance in life.

Being bonded to Neteyam was a lot of pressure, no doubt. Some expected you to be perfect, while others criticized you for being weak, a never-ending pull at your heart. It was all easy to brush off when Neteyam’s strong hands caressed your shoulders.

It helped too that your chemistry grew indescribably as your relationship progressed. The two of you were crazy about each other, hardly capable of containing the heat and excitement you felt in your newly blossoming relationship.

His hand would often find your thigh throughout shared meals, inevitably ending with the two of you sneaking past the trees and with his head between your legs. You would visit him on his breaks from teaching, stealing kisses and teasing touches away from the eyes of the younger warriors. You were often teased by your friends about how you could not keep your hands from your betrothed for more than a minute.

It was part of what made the time apart so unbearably aching.

You knew he had to leave. The syil, a normally elusive creature, would be gathering for mating season in valleys a few days' ride away. The hunting party had been planned for weeks now, with Neteyam at its head. It was a great stride in showing the clan his leadership skills, the longest hunt beyond the village he would lead on his own. The reap of the hunt would be great, sustaining the clan through many days and providing countless pelts for the cold season ahead. 

It did little to stave the emptiness in your heart or between your legs.

It grew lonely at night, especially in the cold drizzles of the rainy season when the hearth fires fizzled. You tucked yourself beneath woven mats, huddling against the soft fibers for warmth as your body craved the solid weight of Neteyam behind you. After what felt like hours of restless turning and shivering, a lonely sleep crept over your mind.

A heated groan rouses you from your slumber.

Your fingers tighten along the edge of the woven mats, flung to the side to expose you to the night’s chill, cooling against your heated skin. Your hair sticks against the curve of your neck, wet with sweat. There was an insistent nudge between your legs and a weight at the bone of your hip, pressing you firmly into your sleeping mats.

Light of the eclipse shadows across your home, dimly illuminating Neteyam’s face where it lay nestled between your thighs. There was a flush high on his cheeks, pupils dilated to show only a thin ring of gold as he gazed upon you. A small moan rumbles across the sensitive flesh of your folds as he notices you blink awake.

“‘Teyam-what the, oh-” Sleep still reached at the edge of your consciousness, muddling your thoughts as an easy pleasure trickled through you. Your hips move before your mind catches up, rutting towards Neteyam’s wide tongue as you moan. You could hardly think clearly with Neteyam’s tongue on you when you were fully awake, now your brain felt completely like mush.

“I’m sorry, yawnetu, I could not wait. You looked so sweet-'' His voice was weak and breathy, and you vaguely noticed one hand snuck beneath his tewng to palm at his cock.

Fuck, he feels so good and so right between you, but when did he get here? When did this start? Great Mother, why did you like it? You could see him in your mind’s eye, tired and worn from the long hunting trek, overcome with such want for you that waking you barely crossed his mind. In your head, he was needy and wanting, thinking of nothing but how he couldn’t stand to be apart from the wet heat between your legs for another second. The thought made you indescribably hot, legs trembling at the voracious way he gripped your hips as he dipped his tongue down into your entrance.

Your tewng hangs half-off your left thigh, rumbled and glistening with either saliva or your juices. Neteyam’s lips are soft and wet, trailing lightly between your slick folds. You try to gather your thoughts between the jolts of pleasure, bringing one hand down to stroke across your lover’s head. “Y-you’re back early.”

“The rains were too heavy, left early.” His fingers massage the plush of your thighs, trailing back up to trace the line of glowing freckles across your stomach. You squirm at the feather-light touches, inching your hips back to his panting lips. “Haah-such a nice present waiting for me at home, yawnetu, all spread out and waiting. Did you miss me?”

“I-I did, I—shit ‘Teyam—missed your mouth, your cock, please.”

“I know, baby, I know, let me give it to you.” His mouth fell back on you, slow licks on the sensitive skin around your labia, skirting around your hole and dipping into the junction of your thigh before darting against your clit. He breathed heavily from his nose, inhaling your scent as your legs tightening around the sides of his head increased the throb in his cock.

Your moans increase as his wide shoulders bully your thighs further apart, tongue giving wide and strong strokes against your clit before sucking it between his shining lips. You can feel the heat growing and tightening at the base of your stomach, fluttering against the dip of his thumb into your cunt. 

The slick sounds of your arousal weave in between the wet sounds of his moans, hot and yearning as they vibrate through your clit and into your bones. You can vaguely hear the sound of him working his own cock, imagining the way the tip peeks between his thick fingers to leak onto himself as he devours you. He always looked so pretty when he worked himself over, eyes blown and pleading.

The movements of his tongue quicken with the pace of your whining moans, finally moving to rub firm circles over your clit that have you keening into his hot touch. Your fingers card through his braids, using the grip to keep his mouth firm against your mound. As if he had any plans of moving.

“That’s-fuck-feels good, baby, but-want your cock,” You mewl, fingers tightening around the back of his head. Your voice hitches with every labored breath, pussy clenching on emptiness with every beat of your racing heart and it’s been so long, your body craves for him.

“Just wait, yawnetu, soon. I-I need to taste you.” He mumbles the promise into your folds, gasping and panting into you with each tug at his cock. His face is near rutting into you, nose bumping at the top of your pussy and inhaling deep breaths of your sweat and slick. “Thought of it the w-whole time, just like this. Let me.” 

The deep breathiness of his voice has arousal shooting through you. You know neither of you will probably be awake long enough to see through on that promise, but it doesn’t really matter. It’s enough to have him here, now, delighting himself so fully with eating at you that it has him desperate and breathless. His moans rumble through you, whispering praises and encouragements into the wetness of your core as he drives you closer and closer to the edge.

“Fuck, Neteyam.” You have one hand on the back of his head, the other gripped tightly into the woven mats as pleasure begins to crest over you. “I-I’m gonna-”

“Yeah? Come on, yawnetu.” You swear you see a devilish grin at the corner of his lips before your eyes clench shut in pleasure. 

Your orgasm rolls through you with a gasping breath, legs tightening around Neteyam’s shoulders as pleasure runs wet and hot from deep in your stomach to every edge of your body. Neteyam groans against you when you tighten under him, tongue swirling softly against your clit until you’re twitching against him, voice heavy with pants of his name and begging him to just get over here already.

Neteyam’s hand is still gripping at the meat of your hip when you open your eyes, now merely inches from your face as he holds himself above you. His hand moves fast and tight on his hard cock, eyes hooded in pleasure.

“Fuck, you’re so pretty-haah-got me so close, baby.”

His deep blue skin is shining under the eclipse with perspiration and your slick, the little freckles over his cheeks and shoulders glimmering lightly. You let your eyes sleepily rove over his wide shoulders and muscled chest, taking in every inch of how fucking good he looks above you.

Your eyes are glassy with pleasure as you gaze up at him with wet lashes, each brush of him against you sending you twitching in sensitivity. “I want it on me, please Neteyam.”

His eyes are unfocused as he comes apart above you, ears twitching and mouth falling open in wet pants. He burrows his head into the crook of your neck as he gets close, licking feverishly at the junction of your neck, the wet head of his cock bumping against your belly.

You reach behind his head again, bringing his forehead to rest against yours, eyes drawn on his face as he groans with each stroke. Your fingers brush along his largest braid close to the skull before rubbing your thumb firmly against the base. His eyes roll slightly as he gasps into your mouth, hips spasming unevenly as his orgasm wracks through him. His hand tightens on your hip, tip of his cock rubbing against you as he empties himself onto you.

The heat in you is slow and lazy, something that will creep into your dreams to be dealt with in the morning. Your bones feel heavy with Neteyam’s heat cuddling up next to you, mind already fuzzy with edges of sleep.

Neteyam’s face is lax in pleasure, nuzzling into the side of your body and pulling you taut to him. You can already hear his breathing evening out with the beginnings of sleep as he mumbles into your hair. “Missed you, yawnetu.”

“Welcome home, ‘Teyam.”

tags | @tallulah477 ; @eywaite @neteyamsoare

[thegnomelord]

another thought about ghost courting - he bumbles his way through and it somehow actually works, you start finding his attempts cute until eventually you’re lying in bed thinking about him and you have a moment of realisation of “god dammit i like him”

Okay, okay okay, now i'm invested in this lol SFW but slightly suggestive.

You should be asleep. You've been trying to fall asleep for god knows how long, the blinking green numbers of your alarm clock mocking you with every change— minute after minute, hour after hour, tick tick ticking by until you're ready to tear the sheets with your claws.

Something buzzes at the back of your skull like a swarm of wasps, yet you're unable to understand what it is as you glare uselessly at the ceiling as if it'll reveal all the answers. Then your eyes flicker to the nightstand, the small bone charm sitting on it. It's a piece of bleached white bone carved into rough shape by unskilled hands, the edges sharp, and you're not quite able to tell what it's supposed to be but Simon made it for you.

He made it for you.

And you could the flush beneath his mask when he'd handed it to you, trying to remain stoic despite the nervousness gnawing on his nerves. God he'd looked so adorable, staring at you with confusion and surprise when you'd purred at the sight of his gift, his eyes analyzing every little movement you made as the whisps of shadow coming off his arms fizzled like pop rocks.

God you'd just wanted to devour him there and then, to coax that mask off him so you could see his face; you didn't doubt a second he'd turn red like a lobster, eyes blown wide and the most needy sound escaping his bitten lips as he writhed underneath you as you two—

Shit.

You liked him.

That ancient element in your bones woke up with a start when your brain registered you had a potential mate, all exhaustion leaving your body as you got up and out of your room, head held in the air and mouth open to track his scent like a bloodhound, able to taste him on your tongue as you found your way to the roof.

He turned when he heard the door open, mask lifted up to his nose so he could smoke in peace. His eyes widened when he saw your glowing eyes peering back at him, like small lights that lured prey into anglerfish jaws.

"Somethin' the matter?" He asked, brows furrowed as you sniffed the air.

Your nose wrinkled as nicotine muddled the sharpness of his scent, and before you knew it you were stomping right up to him, your clawed hands wrapping around his waist as you burrowed your face into his neck.

"What the fock are you doing?" Simon growled, a shiver racing down his spine when you nuzzled his skin, the light scrape of your fangs causing a lick of adrenaline to spark in his system. But he didn't push you away, you were one of the few people he ever let touch him longer than a second.

"Simon," You voice warbled, the silence behind your letters filled with inhuman sounds. You breathed in deep, purring at his scent, of gunpowder and blackwood and something distinctly Simon filled your nose. "Mate." You purred louder, feeling it vibrate against his chest.

Ghost nearly choked at your words, the cigarette dropping to the floor as his mind stuttered like an old computer. "Wha- . . .what?"

"Mate." You repeated, and Christ did that word sound good on your tongue, your tongue coming out to lick a stripe up his neck, grinning when he wrapped his own arms around you like you were a raft in the storm. "My mate."

Simon could feel his heart beat faster, thumping in his ears like a nervous rabbit as you nuzzled further into his neck, spreading your scent on him. "Yeah?" He asked carefully, "Yours am I?"

You grumbled and lifted your head to nuzzle your cheek against his — the best you could do as a kiss when you had a mouth full of sharp teeth. "Yes," You grunted, holding the back of his neck, feeling him progressively go slack against you. "And I'm more than happy to prove it."

The hungry look in your eyes made him shiver with anticipation.

[bahrtofane]

here we go again - pt.1

pt. 2 , pt.3

jude x fem!reader , trent x fem!reader

empty promise after another leaves you walking in the cold. alone. on valentines day. youre never speaking to another player again.

word count : 1K+

watch it : mild fluff, heavy on the angst, situationships, toxic relationships, Jude is kinda an ass in this one sorry, not very happy ending

happy valentines day LOL

—--

you and Jude have a complex history, complex relationship. 

you aren't officially together but at the same time you are exclusive. it's odd, but it's what works at the moment, (even if you wish he would just grow the balls to make you his already.)

you get he's a busy guy, top player both club and international. you aren't going to force him to choose you or make him get with you while his career is soon about to peak. 

your wishes for more soon fade into the background as he presses gentle kisses into your skin. he called you a few hours prior, wondering if you wanted to keep him company while he binges movies and orders you a pizza. you said yes, maybe a little foolishly. but it's hard to stay away from him. 

he's addicting. maybe it's a rush of being with someone whose whole existence is so grand. maybe it's the fact of knowing you have what millions of others crave for. you don't know, you try not to read into the intricacies. bad habit. 

so here you are, face pressed up against his chest while you lay side by side on this stupidly large couch, action movie playing, your pizza done, belly full and body warm. 

"what are you thinking about love?" he mumbles. 

"you." you shrug.

"me ?" he chuckles. 

you hum, wiggling deeper into the pile of blankets. 

"i've been thinking about you. and us." he confesses, almost shy. the movie playing in front of you has long fizzled out of your attention. 

hey might as well rip the band aid off. 

"me too," you hum, "why aren't we official again?"

you feel him sigh dramatically, "because my career."

you squint. there goes the same lousy explanation. "you could put more i don't know, thought into us."

he shifts under the blankets , "valentine's day is coming up. dont worry love i have it all planned out." he assures you. 

"oh yeah ?" you tease

"just you wait, the best valentine's day ever." he kisses the top of your head soundly.

—--

worst fucking valenties day of your life. you don't remember being more livid a day in your life. you cant remember the last time so much pure rage burned through you, hot enough to hurt. you didn't think it was humanly possible to clench your fist so tight youve dug into your palm hard enough to draw blood. 

your head hurts, your legs hurt, you think your arm is starting to bruise from where you were shoved into a table on "accident" but what would Jude know. he was so busy taking pictures with models and laughing at corny jokes while you kept yourself company. texting and calling didnt work and he didn't even try to give you any attention the whole night, you can't keep doing this with him. 

"you can't just run off-" Jude shouts from somewhere behind you. 

"or what Jude. or fucking what." you seeth, not bothering to face him, storming out into the night. 

It's your fault for trusting him all those nights ago. your fault for falling for the same shit over and over. 

he sprints to catch up to you, "i don't know why you're being like this."

you stop dead in your tracks, "oh i don't know, let's think. you didn't tell me your escorts would be there. and to top it all fucking off they have to nerve to be on my ass the whole night, not letting me get anywhere near you even through we walked in together?"

he doesn't respond and you half the mind not to punch the shit out of him, walking further away from the club you just came from, heels clanking against the sidewalk so hard it hurts, pulling on your dress so you dont trip and fall. maybe you should let it go so you can fall flat on your face. that would be a better ending to the night than seeing his face. silly stupid you thinking this would work. 

"happy fucking valentines day huh Jude. you take me to a damn club, you ignore me the whole night, and you spend all your time surrounded by other women who might as well just suck you off right then and there." you yell, hell if anyone hears. you want them too, you want him to be as humiliated as you feel. 

Bellinghams date thrown away the moment you step inside, ignored and tossed for some common whores. oh you can't wait to see where your face ends up online after tonight. you can see the headlines now. 

he grabs your arm, making you face him, "love listen-"

"no, you dont get to fucking do that anymore. you cant keep sweet talking your way out of things when you fuck up. why can't you just pretend to care" your voice shakes, you can feel tears brimming in your eyes.

"i'm not trying to talk my way out of it, i'm trying to explain." he tries.

you yank your arm out of his grip, "i'm not listening anymore, im done. all i asked was one day for us, just valentines day to make things work. and you showed me you dont care enough for that." 

"please, let me fix this." he pleads.

"its too late."

"i wanted things to work so fucking bad, and you humiliated me Jude. i imagined a nice dinner, hell i would have settled for take out and a few kisses. that's how bad i want things to work, that's how bad i wanted you." you tremble. 

"please my darling. let's talk about this. come back inside and i'll show everyone that you are mine," he holds a hand out to you, waiting. silently pleading with each breath he takes. 

the street lights dance across his skin as for a moment you almost believe him. for a moment you think about stepping back inside with him. you can't do that to yourself, not again. 

"no, iim done. don't follow me, don't call me dont text nothing. i want nothing more to do with you." your firm, final. swallowing the lump that builds in your throat, youd be damned if he sees you cry after this fucking shit show.

he stops in his tracks at this, not bothering to try and stop you. 

it hurts more than it should to leave him behind you, but you honest to god can not keep up with his lifestyle. 

all those articles and rumors were right you suppose, he's an arrogant stuck up bastard with too much money to know what to do with, too cocky for his own good and destroys anything good that comes his way. you hope he's happy without you. 

[reiderwriter]

Unhappy Holidays

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Fem!Reader

Summary: You're unlucky enough to run into Spencer Reid at holiday celebrations four years in a row. In the New Year, you're resolving to rid him from your mind forever, but you never were one to stick to resolutions 👻🦃🎄🎆

Warnings: SMUT 18+ minors dni, enemies to lovers, low-key work rivals, semi-public sex, car sex, hate sex, fingering, thigh riding, creampie, unprotected sex (no condoms but contraceptive mentioned), slight spoilers for s4 of Criminal Minds (but not really).

Prompt Request: #50"You're so fucking obsessed with me.” #82"Really? Because your pussy is saying something different, sweetheart.” #93"Use my thigh. You've been staring at it all night anyway.”

A/N: This is my first submission for @imagining-in-the-margins November/December Office Party writing challenge! I'm sorry I've been so busy recently, but the holiday season really does take a lot of effort to get through at work lmao. Hopefully, I'll be able to post more over my vacation! For now, enjoy some very unserious smut~♡ (as if I write any other kind).

Here's a link to my masterlist, where you can find all my work!~☆

Working with the FBI was no walk in the park, which, from your desk at the opposite corner of the bullpen, Spencer Reid sure made it look like.

Working on adjacent teams for the last three years had become gradually infuriating. You were forever in the man's orbit, stuck dealing with the other women on your team sat giggling about him and his many stupid haircuts, and wondering just how far you'd fallen to have to stare at his stupid face 5 days a week.

If you were unlucky. His team did happen to be out on cases a lot more, whereas yours handled correspondence and consulting cases, a cushy and safe job.

It annoyed you to no end that you had multiple field-based qualifications, extensive fire arms training and were top of your class at the academy only to be relegated yo desk duty whilst boy wonder with his doctorates was allowed to trip over his own feet catching actual killers.

Other people wondered where your dislike of the man sprang from, and you could only let out a disgruntled squeak and tell them your horror stories.

A few months into your job, your been fresh faced and bushy tailed or however that saying goes, and overly eager to take any assignment that came your way. Even if the assignment was baby-sitting an injured Doctor Spencer Reid. He'd been shot whilst out on a case whilst trying to talk down an unsub, and you'd jumped at the chance to get to know him.

He was an office legend, of course, though those days it was more for his characteristic lack of social graces rather than the beauty he'd grown into. You'd been so eager to get to pick his brains, find out how he'd managed to score the position on the BAU at such an early age.

Reality had hit you square in the face when he'd spent a week ignoring you, making you run around like a headless chicken searching for hard copies of documents the FBI had digitised a millennia ago, and hadn't so much as spared you a glance.

The straw that broke the camel's back came as you were running back to him triumphant with a document he'd requested eight hours before and had let yourself into Penelope Garcia’s office quietly, only to hear him bad mouthing you.

“She makes me uncomfortable. I've had her out searching for useless files all day because I don't know what to do with her.”

“She's trying to help, Spencer, it's her job right now, cut her some slack.”

“Her job is currently getting in the way of mine. I even tried writing my own doctor's note so I could get rid of her, but Hotch wouldn't allow it.”

You'd dropped the file loudly on the table, watched the two spin around with horrified looks and turned silently and left the room.

He hadn't once tried to find you after that, and you let your apprenticeship under Doctor Reid quietly fizzle out as you got back to your regular work.

Your resentment still burned though.

Each time you'd been caught in the same elevator with him, you'd ignored him to an almost insane degree, enjoying the way he squirmed and tried to make small talk.

You'd been in contact with JJ and his Unit Chief Aaron Hotchner as well, through cases you'd recommended, but always maintained your cold shoulder.

The one place you could not ignore him, however, was a Penelope Garcia party.

After you'd slammed the file down on her desk, Penelope had guiltily sent you a gift basket filled with sweet treats and books, and had hounded you for a week to make sure your feelings weren't too damaged by her friend's stupidity.

You actually liked her, and found at least one silver lining to the storm that was Spencer Reid ripping through your life.

In the three years since the “incident,” you'd found yourself at three parties where Penelope in all of her heartwarming ways had tried her best to force a reconciliation between the two of you, to disastrous results.

The first was a Halloween party, and you'd been incredibly proud of your Princess Laia costume when you'd arrived. Only until you'd gone to the kitchen to top up your drink to hear Spencer Reid boring some guest or the other about how Star Trek was more advanced, and had a richer plot line.

Penelope had stepped into the kitchen just as he'd caught a glimpse of your (rather skimpy) outfit - yes, you'd chosen swimsuit Laia, yes, you were going to own it - and had immediately jumped into introductions, as if you weren't already intimately acquainted.

“Spencer! This is Y/N! She loves Halloween, too, she makes all of her costumes. You guys should talk.” She'd led the other guest away and left you there with Spencer as you'd awkwardly looked upon his own costume.

“Are you the Tenth Doctor?” You asked begrudgingly, noting his pin-striped suit and the shorter hairstyle he'd chosen.

“Are you a fan? I prefer the original show run more than the current stuff, but David Tennant has really been doing a wonderful-”

“I'm sorry, let me stop you there. I don't watch Doctor Who. I guess I prefer something with a… How should I say, richer plot?”

He'd snapped his mouth shut and didn't have chance to open it again before you turned dramatically and walked away from him.

The second party you'd been cornered into was just over a year later.

Having been stuck in the office over Halloween, Penelope was determined to get in one last celebration before Christmas steam-rolled every other holiday, and thus you'd been invited to her single-people-only-friendsgiving-potluck, and you'd found yourself having to navigate knocking on her door with a casserole dish in your hands.

Luckily a large hand had appeared from behind you and knocked on the door for you. Unfortunately, the sudden shock from the silent appearance of a man right behind you startled you so much that the dish fell straight from your hands anyway.

Penelope opened her door upon hearing the crash and you whirled on your would-be attacker.

It was Spencer again, eyes round in shock, hand still curled into a fist.

You took a calming breath as you gathered yourself, trying not to bite his head off. You wanted to scream and shout and rip his head out but you didn't, instead letting the fury drip into your voice as you finally opened your eyes again.

“That dish took me four fucking hours to make.” You huffed in anger once more as Penelope guided you into the apartment and poured you a glass of wine before you moved back to the entry hall to clean it up again.

Needless to say he didn't care to converse with you after that.

A few small parties in between had been blissfully Spencer-less and you'd lulled yourself into a false sense of security. That's when you accepted the Christmas party invitation.

As one of the unlucky few members of the FBI who had to stay out over christmas in case of some emergency or the other, you'd been grounded in Virginia, unable to travel home for the holidays. So Penelope Garcia's singles-only-Christmas-fun-time-Party was your last ditch effort to spend the holidays actually resting and eating good food.

Learning from last time, Penelope reassured you that there was no potluck, that she had prepared all the food herself, and all you'd need were a bottle of wine and a willingness to party.

You'd taken those recommendations as law and had immediately let yourself into a glass of mulled wine as you arrived, and - noticing that the party was Reid-free - had allowed it to raise your Christmas spirits slightly more than you usually would.

By hour two of the event, you were full of yuletide joy and swaying freely along to the tune of Silent Night.

Spencer’s late entrance really would have gone unnoticed by you had you not bumped face first into his chest as you spun yourself around in your dance, his hands quickly falling to your hips to steady you.

The few moments it took you to gather yourself were about as long as you needed to realised that he'd caught you in his arms underneath the mistletoe. And with your mind fogged by mulled-whatever-it-was-Penelope-mixed-into-that-punch, the part of your brain that objected to the very existence of Spencer Reid went silent, and the incredibly tiny and somewhat damaged part of your brain that instead saw him as attractive started shouting loud instructions.

Before your common sense could return, you pushed yourself up on your tiptoes to kiss the very warm, very close man holding you upright.

“Mistletoe,” you muttered as you clawed his arms off of you and took yourself straight to Penelope's bathroom to throw up.

So yes, your acquaintance with Spencer Reid had never been good, and you were perfectly fine with resenting him from afar, privately.

With three years of bad experiences under your belt, you weren't excited at completing your yearly tradition of horrendous interaction. Which is perhaps why you immediately and loudly protested Penelope’s New Years Eve party invitation.

“Y/N, it's a party. What's the worst that can happen?” She pleaded as she followed you down the corridors of the office building.

“I could see Spencer Reid. I could be forced to converse with Spencer Reid. I could get absolutely wasted and kiss Spencer Reid. There, three options, please accept my resignation from partying.”

“Y/N we both know you don't drink anymore, so at least one of those is unlikely to happen. And Spencer might not even come, he has tickets for an indie theatre from 6pm onwards, they're playing some Russian movie from the 60s that's like 4 hours long or something. So u retire yourself and tell me you'll come?” She had to take three or four steps for each of your own, not that you were so different in height but because you were practically marching in order to avoid the topic.

But you finally stopped and let out a sigh as you turned back to Penelope who stopped just before she ran into you.

“You're sure he won't be there?”

“I'm sure he RSVP’d no.”

“Fine. But I'm not drinking and I will still be expecting the Penelope Garcia virgin punch experience.”

“Bring the party poppers and you have a deal.”

“Done.”

–X–

Over the week since you'd accepted the invitation, you'd made peace with it. For the most part, you did love a Penelope Garcia production. There was something wonderful about your friend and her ability to brighten anyone's mood, an ability that was only heightened at holidays. She was like a glittered goddess gaining power when worshippers used her altar, except the altar was her house and the worship was a range of hallmark-induced holidays.

You arrived at the party at 10pm, and though that was the start time you'd been given, you weren't surprised to see a full house of Penelope’s team mates already in attendance. Derek Morgan, Jennifer Jareau and Emily Prentiss sat spread across the sofa in the living room area, and you noticed a few techie friends also grabbing drinks and chatting.

“Y/N, I'm so glad you're here! You remember everyone on the team, right?” She pulled you into a hug and then sat you down in the middle of the group, waiting for you to mingle and become comfortable before she ran off to more hostess duties.

“Of course, nice to see you guys.” You grabbed your promised punch and sat back comfortably, striking up a conversation with Emily about how bleak the dating scene had been recently.

“It seems like all the men around me are jackasses,” Emily muttered and you giggled along.

“I'm wounded,” Morgan shot back, a hand pressed to his chest in faux pain.

“Good. You're like a lion out there in the clubs stalking gazelles, it's like watching a nature documentary when you're out there.”

You almost snorted your entire drink up your nose as Emily finished, needing to compose yourself for a second.

“I guess the men on our team aren't great with romance,” JJ laughed and took a swing. “Hotch and Rossi have four divorces between them, and Derek here is a lost cause.”

“Our only hope is young Spencer. May he grow into a respectful young gentleman and break out curse,” Emily toasted.

“Oh that ship has sailed,” your laugh this time was bitter, your mood immediately growing sour with even the smallest mention of Spencer Reid.

“Ah, Penelope mentioned you had a problem with our boy wonder. Care to share?”

You opened your mouth to give your standard non-answer and move the conversation along, but you were interrupted.

“Yes, Y/N, care to share? I am slightly curious about that as well.” You turned around and there he was, and your stomach turned in disgust.

Just one time, just one party. You'd been having fun, and here he was to ruin it.

“What are you doing here?” you gaped up at him, unsurprised to see him still decked out in sweater vest and slacks even in his down time.

“I was invited.”

“You declined, Penelope said you had movie tickets.”

“Ticket, singular. And it was cancelled so here I am. What's your problem with me, Y/N?” His jaw clenched and he grabbed the back of your chair and leaned down. It was supposed to be intimidating, but you rolled your eyes. When he looked that attractive, veins in his arms popping out of the sleeves he'd pulled up, you couldn't see him as intimidating. His arms were distracting yes, but God that was nothing compared to his thighs. His pants were tight, and you thanked whatever Clueless tailor had sewn them, because you now allowed yourself a momentary lapse to enjoy the appearance of his lower body.

You tried to shake the thought of his attractiveness from your mind, reminding yourself where you were and in what company.

“I don't think I need to answer that. I think I'll enjoy holding it over your head instead,” you said, standing up and beginning to gather your things.

“Wait, Y/N, where are you going? New Year isn't for another 30 minutes.” Penelope scrambled over and grabbed your hand, pleading with you to stay.

“I'm sorry Pen, but there's just this very annoying bug buzzing around me, and I think I need to get away from it.” You said your goodbyes and excused yourself from the party, happy to have walked away relatively undamaged.

Fate had other plans, and as you stepped out of the apartment building ready to walk yourself home, a hand caught yours from behind as a voice chased you.

“Y/N, wait. I'll go. You go back inside.”

“And return with my tail tucked between my legs after making a grand exit? I'll pass, thanks boy genius.” You shook yourself from his grasp and made to walk away again, but he quickly matched your pace and stepped into your path, cutting you off.

“I can't let you walk home. It's like 40° out here, and your coat is more style than substance.”

“Get into a car with a stranger? I'm sure you of all people know how stupid that sounds.” You stuck a finger out and poked his chest, but he grabbed your hand and held it in place as he spat out his next words.

“I'm not a stranger, I'm the man you're obsessed with, Y/N. Big difference.” You laughed, mostly in shock at his indignance, but he stared at your face as serious as could be.

“Me? Obsessed with you? I'm not the one who followed a woman they're barely acquainted with out of a party filled with all of my friends. Sounds like you're projecting, Spencer.”

“Am I?” He questioned, stepping closer and grabbing your hip as he continued his questioning. “I wasn't the one who was sat there talking about me with all of my colleagues.”

“Well, I wasn't the one who turned up to a party I'd declined an invitation to.”

He was imperceptibly close now, hand gripping your hip so tight you wondered if it'd leave you with a mark.

“I certainly was not the one who initiated a kiss last year, Y/N. You need to face the facts, you're so fucking obsessed with me.” If his hands had you feeling dizzy, his words were completely knocking the sense out of you. Suddenly you returned to the person you'd been under that Mistletoe, and everything from his closeness to the rough edge to his voice begged you to do it once again.

“Go fuck yourself,” was about all the words you could manage as he finally let his lips fall down and crush into your own.

You should've pushed him away, but instead your traitorous body wanted to prove his point, opening up for him faster than you'd opened up to anyone else before.

His tongue flicked against your lips and you gladly let him explore your mouth, opening up to tangle your tongue with his.

He tasted sweet, like the punch Penelope had handed you earlier, only now you wondered if someone had accidentally laced it with how free you were being with your affections.

He resurfaced for air, but you didn't care if there was nothing in your lungs at all if it meant that his lips would engage your own in battle once again.

“Look how much you want me,” he smirked. “Look how needy you are after a single kiss, chasing my lips like that.”

“You and your big fucking mouth. I wish you'd shut up once in a while.”

“I'll make it my new year’s resolution.” His lips joined your own again, and you clashed hard, exploring as much as you could muster as he pulled you in the direction of his car.

“I'm not driving… home… with you,” you growled between kisses, trying not to put your teeth to his neck and bite down hard. You're not sure if that impulse was a murderous one or a kinky one.

“I'm not putting you in the front seat, Y/N, I'm putting you in the back. You should be familiar with the idea.”

Heat sparked between your legs, and you allowed yourself to be manhandled into the beat-up trash heap of a car.

He'd not taken his hands off you as he got you in, pushing himself in first and then pulling you by the hand that you'd unconsciously gripped hard. You immediately straddled his hips, skirt naturally riding up in the process. He noticed and looked curiously down at you, growling as you pressed your lips against his neck and grabbed you instead by the hair gathered in a ponytail at the back of your head.

“See, you're obsessed with me. Just admit it.” Without breaking eye contact, he dug his fingers into the material of your tights and pulled in opposite directions, leaving your underwear exposed to his wandering eyes.

“I'm not obsessed with you,” your voice needed conviction to land, but it came out as a lusty whisper, especially as he slipped his fingers inside your underwear and finally touched your aching cunt.

“Really? Because your pussy is saying something else, Princess.” He found your clit faster than you'd ever expected, rubbing slow circles into your skin as you began rocking your hips back and forth.

It was becoming hard to disagree with him, with each flick of wrist growing the heat between your legs. You attacked his neck again, hands practically ripping at his top buttons so you could muffle the sounds of your arousal against his neck, collarbone, chest, any stretch of that pale skin available to you.

He forced your hips to a stop with one hand as he slipped a single digit inside of your hole, gathering your arousal as he set a steady pace, thumb keeping your bundle of nerves occupied.

“Listen, Y/N, can you hear that?”

“I can't h-hear anything.” You had to grind your teeth together to get the words out with minimal interruptions of moans bursting from the pit of your stomach.

He leaned in close to your ear, nuzzling your neck and placing chaste kisses up towards your ear, finally pulling away just enough to whisper a single word in your ear.

“Liar.”

His hand stilled and pulled off you quickly and your eyes broke open, hands unconsciously fitting into his shirt as if you were worried he was going to leave you there like this, on the edge of pleasure but still so far away.

“Use my thigh. You've been staring at it all night anyway.”

“Jackass. You've only been here for like 20 minutes.”

“You can climb right out of this car if you want to, Y/N.” He tried to keep his tone light, but the death grip he had on your thighs, the very obvious tent pitched in his pants and the way his eyes couldn't go five seconds without undressing you told you you had more power in this interaction than he wanted to give you.

There was no way either of you were letting the other go unused tonight.

You relaxed your grip on his shirt and shifted your weight to one of his thighs. Lithe he may be, but lowering yourself down there was an unexpected strength there. He watched on curiously as you rocked experimentally against him. Back and forth you rocked, trying desperately to keep up his momentum or tempt him to help you out again.

It was time to let your voice back out, and you did, moaning without a care as you hummed his leg like a bitch in heat.

“You're enjoying this lot, huh, Y/N,” he muttered, and you watched as his hand worked his pants zip open, removing one of the barriers in the way between the two of you, as he began palming himself.

“What's that saying? Anything you can do, I can do better?” He growled at that response but didn't stop you. Instead he bought a hand down on your ass as you moved, so hard you jolted at the sudden pain. Your eyes shot open as your hips stilled, but you felt warmth grow between your legs.

“Yes, you definitely enjoyed that. Should I do that again, or do you think we should hurry this up and go back up for the countdown?”

You hesitated only a second before you pushed his hand off his lap, shifting your hips further towards his knees before letting your hand reach for where his had just been.

You didn't let yourself think about how big he was as you pulled his cock free, didn't let yourself wonder how he measured up against anyone you'd been with before. You didn't let yourself waste time thinking about how various office rumours were true, and definitely not a second was wasted feeling jealous about how those rumours were spread in the first place.

Instead you simply slammed your lips back against his, mouth opening to let your tongue engage his as you lifted your hips with his help and lowered yourself down on him.

You didn't have to rid yourself of sinful thoughts after that as he purged every single brain cell from your head, filling you so contently that there was simply no space for anything but him.

You locked up on top of him, clawing at his shoulders as you whimpered at the stretched, falling so he was balls deep inside you. You wanted to move, to use him for your pleasure, but your walls tightened every time you even thought about it as he stroked your hair through it all.

It had been some time since you'd last had a sexual partner, and you needed the few minutes to overcome the first uncomfortable bliss of it all.

“That good?” he whispered, but the harsh tone of earlier was gone, replaced only by unsure humour to break the silence.

“Been a while.” He nodded, kissing you again to distraction as he shifted your positions.

Cradling your neck and securing your legs comfortably around him, he lowered you against the backseat, pulling out slightly as you adjusted to the new angle.

“Better?” You nodded quickly, because it was. There was no more pressure on your legs, and despite the cramped space in the car, you had enough space to lie almost flat.

“Yes… thank you.” Just as his cutting tone had escaped him, you also heard your own tone softening, the sigh of contentment slipping past your lips almost sweet. Almost.

“Are you going to fuck me now, or what?”

He let out a shocked laugh, but lent down to shut you up with a kiss nonetheless. Bracing himself against the car door, his hips softly rocked into you, pace increasing until you were back to the edge of cumming, nails pressed hard into his skin until you were sure he was going to complain.

He didn't though, but kept up his thrusts, until your vision suddenly darkened and stars exploded in them, rolled back in your head as they were.

“Shit, shit, shit, shit, where should I…?” He panicked, but you wrapped your legs around him, grabbing him by the tie and pulling him down to swallow his moan as he shot his load inside of you.

“Birth control.” You whispered when you finally let him go, gasping for air. “Contraceptive pill. No need to get the car dirty.”

He collapsed on top of you then, forehead resting against your own as you both caught your breaths.

The moment was silent, and you found the synchronicity of your breaths almost calming. Eventually you had to break apart, and he helped you up to a sitting position, but didn't break eye contact as fell back into his lap.

His hands stroked your back, dipping to your ass at times, but he didn't talk. Neither of you did.

The eye contact between the two of you was possibly the most pleasant conversation you'd ever had.

“I'm sorry.” He blurted, just as fireworks erupted into the night sky. Your heart shook, and you weren't sure of it was the shock of the sound, or the way the rainbow of lights illuminated his sincere expression.

“You don't have to apologise for cumming in me, Spencer.”

“Not that. Before. The casserole and the mistletoe, and the Halloween costume.”

“Wow. Um, okay. Apology accepted, I guess, though I'm not entirely sure why you're apologising now.”

He took a deep breath just as another set of fireworks went up.

“I pulled you under the mistletoe. It was Penelope’s idea, she knew how stupid I was being around you and sent me over. I saw it and took the chance.”

“Fuck. Why?”

“Because I was pretty useless at being chivalrous the year before.”

You climbed off his lap in a scramble and sat on the seat beside him, mind racing, trying to figure out where the hell he was going with this.

He turned to you, trying to keep your attention as he stumbled over the words.

“You couldn't knock on the door, so I wanted to help you, but I didn't think I'd scare you so much you'd drop it.”

“You didn't scare me it was a momentary lapse in my observational skills.”

“You shrieked,” a smile threatened to pull his lips up, they twitched as you flushed red.

“And Halloween?” You looked at him again now, trying to figure out what the hell was going on between the two of you.

“You refused to look at me for a year after we stopped working together,” he shrugged quickly running a hand through his hair and expelling a breath. “I don’t really know how to talk to women.”

“You just know how to piss them off?”

“Morgan says it comes naturally.”

“Yeah, well, Morgan is very wise.”

A brief silence stretched between you, or as silent as a night full of cracks, pops, whizzes and bangs could be.

“I don't get it. You tried your best to get rid of me when I was there to help you. I wanted to impress you, and you kept sending me on meaningless errands, and now you're saying what? You wanted my attention?” There was a quiet anger to your voice, but you were surprised to find it diminished and tired.

“I wanted you gone because you were distracting me, Y/N, not because I hated you.”

“Well, what's the difference, Doctor Reid? Please indulge me.” You huffed a little but kept your eyes on him, trying not to seem too desperate for his answer.

“I have an IQ of 187. Emily says when I'm around a pretty girl it's more like 52,” he fidgeted with his pants, forcing the words out.

“You're a pretty girl. We had a case to work and all I could think about was how to get you to like me. Hotch chewed me out like three separate times for being absent minded.”

He was looking anywhere but you, trying his best not to appear like a fool but you were locked onto him.

“Oh my god you're an idiot.”

“When you're around, yes.”

“And that means I'm equally stupid.”

“No, you just jump to conclusions and hold grudges. There wasn't anything really that stupid about your actions, though it could be suggested that not thoroughly thinking through the wording of the conversation you overheard-”

You cut him off with a kiss, pulling him down again mlby his tie.

“Oh my god, shut up,” you whispered as you broke apart.

“Does that mean we can do this again? Because I'd like to do this again?”

“Stop talking, start kissing jackass.”

He finally didn't argue with that, pulling you back into him as you sat under the stars in his car welcoming the new year.

[sleepinthrumyalarms]

— smoke some, drink some, pop one

pairing: vada cavell x fem!reader

warnings: smut, drug use, lesbian sex, cunnilingus, overstimulation, slight roughness, unnecessary euphoria references

summary: you smoke dope. vada admits she has never eaten a girl out before. a practical demonstration ensues

word count: 2.7k

a/n: this was written under the influence of a travis scott song. expect anything. enjoy

You stare at the clock hanging above the blackboard anxiously, kicking your leg under the desk. The last few minutes of the last period always seem to stretch miles into infinity, and your patience is barely as flexible. The voice of the teacher has long since become background noise, the talk of equations and trigonometry and the finals week and how unprepared you were for it the last thing on your mind.

You pick your phone up for the millionth time to look at the messages still hanging and marked as unseen on your screen, eyes focusing on Vada’s name followed by an emoji of a puppy and a black heart.

‘got us enough to roll one’

‘just one tho’

‘don’t wanna end up like last time’

You chuckle quietly – the sweet memories of you and Vada skinny dipping in a pond at night and then showing up half-naked at Nick’s door are definitely the ones you treasure most, even though you can barely piece them together.

You look out the window, lost in thought. Your teacher asks you a question – and then you're saved by the sound of the bell ringing across the building.

As soon as you hear it you’re up and all but bolting out the door, muttering a quick ‘bye’ to the teacher to maintain your good girl image that, to be honest, has been hanging by a thread ever since the day you started dating Vada.

Not that you really care about their opinion. You just don’t want the principal to call your mother again.

You speed walk through the corridor, try to remember which floor was Vada’s class on, before you’re stopped by a pair of hands wrapping around your waist.

“Hey there pretty girl.”

You squeal in surprise, turning around in your girlfriend’s arms. She’s grinning at you annoyingly, the little shit, but the small dimple on her right cheek makes it impossible to be mad at her.

“Fuck, Vada,” you huff, pinching her shoulder half-heartedly, “I’ve got a weak heart, remember?

She shrugs, leans in to kiss your pout away.

“Sorry. I got out early. Wanted to wait for you since apparently someone's not interested in answering any of my texts anymore.”

You kiss her back, smiling apologetically, “I was too excited to see you, I guess.”

The brunette hums, lacing her fingers with yours, “Where to then?”

You think about inviting her over to your place – it’s closer to school, and your mom is working till late evening, but the rationality clicks quicker. Your mom also happens to work as the district attorney of the town – you’re pretty damn sure she knows what pot smells like, and would be able to smell it hours after you and Vada have fucked beyond the common sense of ventilating the house.

So you do the next best thing, one that won’t get either of you in trouble – you hotbox in your girlfriend’s car. You realize it might soon become the best thing, because it hits so much better.

Vada gets greedy with the joint a few times – you have to remind her it’s puff puff pass, not puff puff kiss your girlfriend so she lets her guard down then puff again.

In a few minutes you’re in her lap and making out with her like it’s your last day on Earth, the two of you giggling into each other’s mouths when you accidentally press the horn with your butt a few times, the honking sound mixing with your laughter.

You can barely make Vada’s face out by the time the last of the joint fizzles out and starts to burn your fingertips, the smoke filling the car up to the brim, but her eyes stand out amidst the choking whiteness, her pupils almost heart-shaped as she watches you with a dopey grin.

When you open the door the smoke drifts up the sky in big clouds, and breathing clear oxygen almost feels weird.

You’re still giggling slightly as Vada fumbles with her pockets to find her keys, your soft lips pressing to the side of her neck in sweet pecks making the process of finding them unnecessarily hard.

She shushes you when you finally step inside, listening for any sounds, before closing the door behind you. As soon as you realize you’re alone in the house, you press your lips against Vada’s impatiently.

“Don’t forget– your shoes,” Vada manages between the kisses, shivering as you slide your hands under her oversized shirt, “I’m serious, you horndog. Mom hates it when the floors are dirty.”

You groan into her lips, pulling away to untie your Jordans, shaking on your unstable legs slightly, and make your way up the stairs into her room. Vada opens the window to let the fresh spring air sweep through the room, hoping it’ll be enough to help the smell of weed wear off your clothes and hair.

“Wanna watch a show?” She asks, gesturing to her laptop as you sit on her bed, crossing your legs.

“Mhm. You’re thinking Euphoria, aren’t you?” You snort, watching as your girlfriend slides next to you, “Because I think we’re pretty much in one.”

“So, like,” Vada trails off, her hands coming to rest on your hips in what she thinks is a subtle movement, “Would that make me Rue, then?”

She plays with a string on your pants, feeling almost embarassed about the corny things she's saying.

“And you – Jules?”

You hum, tilting your head with a coy grin, try and mull her innuendo over in your baked out mind. The comparison does seem familiar – especially with Vada’s puppy love towards you.

“Well, I liked their duo in the first season but... weren’t they, like... extremely toxic later on?”

Vada finally pulls in you to sit on her lap, your thighs bracketing hers, and it’s such close proximity you can count all the pretty freckles scattered across her face. You’d probably get lost at fifty, way too high for mathematics of any kind, even if it’s this romantic.

“You’re right. Fuck Euphoria,” she whispers, her gaze sliding to your lips, and you don’t waste any more time to press your lips to hers.

Kissing Vada has always been something to look forward to – warm and pleasant, makes your stomach flip when she’d bite your bottom lip and lick at your teeth. Kissing Vada whilst being slightly high is an out of this world feeling. Her nose presses into your cheek, and your palms slide to the back of her neck, fingers twirling her silky brown tresses idly.

You pull away for air, and it gets stuck in your throat as the brunette presses a kiss behind your ear, trailing the butterfly smooches down to your pulse point. Her hands are kept busy under your shirt, fingertips tracing up your stomach to your ribs.

“How many times have you ever been eaten out?”

A sudden but... not at all unwelcome question. You lean back on your hands, humming when her plush lips rest against your collarbone, and purse your lips in thought.

“Mm... once or twice. I don’t really keep any notches on my belt, y’know?”

Her hands tighten around your hips, and you chuckle.

“Drinking vinegar, are you now? Don’t worry. You have an opportunity to top them all.”

Vada averts her gaze suddenly. You frown, lean in to cup her face gently.

“What’s wrong?”

The brunette rubs her thumbs over your clothed thighs, then looks back up at you, a small frown on her face.

“I’ve never done this before.”

“You’ve never... fucked anyone?” You're sure that's a lie – she's fucked you before.

“I’ve never given a girl head.”

You hum, reaching to hold her slightly shaky hands, slowly inching them closer to the waistband of your sweatpants, “I can teach you,” you suggest, biting your lip, “Show you what I like. That cool?”

Vada looks almost mesmerized. She nods, her gaze fixed on your pants, and you giggle as she tugs them down your legs, prompting you to slide off her lap to let her do so, the cool outside breeze hitting your warm skin and rising goosebumps in its wake.

“I listened to a podcast the other day,” she begins, “About cunnilingus. The host said the best advice she’s ever gotten was to google wielding techniques.”

You raise your eyebrows in confusion, “Huh?”

Vada reaches for her phone on the bedside table, quickly unlocking it and typing something in the search bar. She selects a random picture and shows you the screen.

There are indeed blueprints of what looks like wielding seams, going from bottom to the top. The arrows are forming different patterns – there are zig-zags, crescents, a circular seam and a ‘figure 8’ seam...

For all the ridiculousness, they do seem... practical.

You smile and grab the phone, turning it off and tossing it somewhere back on the bed.

Of course she would do that – research stuff. It’s so fucking endearing it prompts you to wrap your hands around her neck and press a kiss to her cheek.

“Why not stick to the usual alphabet thing, hm?” You offer, “I can tell which letter I’d love the most.”

You lean in to whisper into her ear huskily, “It’s ‘V’.”

Vada shudders, making you smile. Then her hands grasp at your hips, tugging you closer, and your breath hitches at her sudden assertiveness.

The brunette bends her knees so that she’s level with your center and parts your legs slowly. You curse under your breath – you’re pretty much drenched right through your panties, and if Vada was just slightly more sober, she’d probably tease you about it, too. You’re glad she isn’t.

She leans in closer instead, tongue lolling out and pressing against your clothed cunt, licking a stripe up the smeared wetness there. Her fingers slip under the waistband of your underwear, and you tilt your hips up a bit to help her take it off, the movement causing your heat to press further into her mouth, making you whine.

Your panties are off, and so is Vada’s tongue.

She stares long enough for you to feel a bit conscious about yourself, and you move to close your legs on instinct, but her hands keep them apart. She hooks your ankles over her shoulders, shoots you a warning look. Her dark gaze makes you clench around nothing. The shyness and uncertainty is gone like it wasn’t even there.

You’re not sure if it’s weed, or if you’re being tricked, but this version of Vada is... new. Extremely hot, too.

She lowers herself so that she’s inches away from your pussy, her warm breath fanning your swollen clit – you're so strung up that you’re starting to feel a second heartbeat in between your legs. Vada looks up at you again, making sure you’re watching her as she flattens her tongue along your slit, collecting all the warm slick that leaked out from the moment she had you on her lap. She lets out a satisfied groan, and you sigh, hips buckling to meet her.

Despite all your confidence, you feel yourself crumble at the first touch of your girlfriend’s mouth on you – you’ve always preferred this over any kind of penetration, and Vada’s eagerness to please you doesn’t help.

She withdraws for a moment, and you find yourself missing her immediately.

“Is this okay?” She asks, palms caressing your thighs to soothe you.

“Don’t make me beg.” You breathe with a chuckle.

She laps at your folds, groaning at the saccharine warmth of your arousal coating her tongue – then leans back again, and you’re almost whining before she reaches her thumb to rub at your swollen clit, her breathing heavy as she watches you gush around nothing.

“Baby.” You whine pathetically, your knees coming together to try and push her face into you.

Vada doesn’t seem to be bothered in the slightest, her digit circling your sensitive spot, never taking her eyes away, “Hm?”

“Please,” you murmur, voice stifled by the hot arousal burning in your veins, “Want your mouth, baby. Want to cum on your tongue, please.”

The brunette digs her fingers into the soft flesh of your hips before wrapping her plump lips around your clit, gently sucking, and your thighs tighten around her head at the sudden overwhelmingly good feeling coursing through your body. You almost can’t believe how good it feels – how good Vada is, almost naturally talented at making your toes curl as she mouths at your dripping pussy, keeping a burning grip on your quivering legs. The immense amount of pleasure is so sudden you’re practically sobbing her name, your stomach tensing and hips bucking with each calculated flick of the girl’s tongue. The sheets under you are considerably darker than the rest, a pool of your cum along with the brunette’s spit dampening the area.

You’ve heard that drugs can expand your consciousness, but to such a degree that has you seeing stars as Vada eats you out like it’s her second nature...

Her tongue slips between your walls suddenly, causing you to arch your back into the air, hips rolling into her face. Her tongue continues to lap confidently, going in circles around your entrance. A shaky sigh leaves your lungs, and you have to clench your eyes shut.

“Vada, oh my god,” you breathe shakily, your voice tight and high, feeling you stomach coil, “I'm gonna cum– Fuck, fuck, Vada."

Her lips find your clit again, and that’s what sends you over the edge, your thighs clasping around her head so tight she swears her ears start to ring.

You shiver as the brunette drinks you up hungrily, your legs easing their hold on her, chest heaving with shuddering gasps.

“Oh, Vada. Fuck,” you mutter, resting your forearm over your eyes as you try to calm your speeding heart, “That was so... so good, baby. I think you lied to me. Either that, or you’re... a natural.” You chuckle breathlessly, raising a shaky hand to swipe some stray hairs from your forehead.

Your legs move to unhook themselves from the girl’s shoulders, taking pity on her most likely strained muscles, but Vada’s grip turns bruising on your legs. You’re pushed back further into the pillows suddenly, and before you can let out a single peep in alarm, she’s on you again.

Her hands reach to grasp under your knees, bending your legs up, your pussy spread open for her. She doesn’t relent — her hands hold your thighs as she all but buries her face in your heat, the movements of her tongue harsh. Fast. Merciless.

The sudden aggressiveness makes you let out a broken moan, your hands darting to tread through Vada’s hair, wanting her closer but away at the same time, the painful pleasure too much for your scrambled mush of a brain to handle.

“Oh my god, Vada!”

She leans away for a moment to trace two separate stripes from your entrance up to your clit with the tip of her tongue, and you whine, your foggy mind realizing that she has actually just done the letter thing, before she’s back on you like a hungry beast, jaw hanging open to wrap her mouth around your seizing cunt with an obscene slurping sound.

Your back arches as you cum harder than before, throwing your head back against bed and squeezing your eyes shut, your girlfriend’s name tumbling out of your mouth in an almost pornographic moan. You whine as Vada laps at your center with purpose, licking you clean, before pulling away mercifully.

There’s a cocky wolfish grin on the brunette’s face as she watches you open your eyes slowly, trying to compose yourself.

“How was that for a notch on your belt, hm?”

Shit. If you didn’t just experience the most intense orgasm in your life, you’d scoff at the smugness of her tone.

“I’m gonna be honest... I wasn’t sure I’d be into... that,” you say shakily, “But I guess I am now. Jesus Christ, Vada.”

“Just Vada is fine.” She gently caresses your hips, leans down to kiss your jaw lovingly, “Now...”

Her fingers lift the hem of your shirt up to your chest, blunt nails grazing the flesh under your breasts – she watches them rise and fall with your unsteady breaths.

“How about I salt the earth behind me so that no one ever stands a chance of owning you the way I do?”

[iwaasfairy]

┌─ “ ! „ TROPHY

tw. noncon, yandere, explicit gore, lobotomy, blood, pain, power imbalance, doctor kink, badly aged terms about mental health, domestic abuse mentions, somno implications, praise, choking wordcount. 4.7k

a/n. ♡ i realized all my iwa fics were mostly really fluffy and sweet, so here's a gross one. gotta keep up my reputation yk! tysm to the betas ily ily ily

iwaizumi hajime x fem!reader

The doctors have been standing around in a circle for what feels like hours, scraping their pens against the paper. Each check, each prodding, probing touch feels like it’s going on for the sake of going. Hours today, hours yesterday, on and on into infinity. Your skin feels cold, and you fidget by rubbing your fingers against each other for the briefest spark of warmth, before that too fizzles out into nothing. Because that’s what this is, right? A cold, barren nothingness that swallows up every inch of your body.

You can barely remember the look of the sky outside the metal barred walls that keep you, only catching glimpses that pass too quickly. Or the feeling of warm sunlight shining on your face as you rest against the windowsill, watching cars go by. The brief flash of a memory crosses over your view, a hot summer day and your hair sticking to your neck. Hands winding down your shoulders to keep you in a comfortable embrace, and a kiss to your cheek.

It’s nothing like the cold, sterile walls that you’re looking up at now, sitting on the cold metal stretcher with your wrists wrapped in leather. This is all you are now. This is what keeps you separate from the nutcases in the other wing. Little threat of re-offending.

One of the older men pushes his small, round glasses higher up his nose as he approaches, and waves a light past your eyes a few times, snapping his fingers all the while. “Any lightheadedness? Dizziness? Spots in your vision to be concerned about?” You wouldn’t know it with the callous way he regards you, but apparently they’re trying to help. That’s what they say, when they drag you out of your cage. The burning of the light makes your eyes water, but you blink that wetness away as best as you can.

“No, Doctor.”

The graying man runs his eyes along the sheet on his clipboard, and then his mouth corners pull down, as a few of the other equally graying men start mumbling among each other again, feeling far off. Everything feels far off with the stuff they’ve been putting in you lately. More drugs. More tests. It all feels like a never ending cycle — even though the sane part of you knows it isn’t. Or, wasn’t, until you bit one of the men who tried to lead your face to his crotch with the threat of beating you to death. You bit so hard that they had to amputate, is what you heard, before they shot you full of cotton.

And you’d cry, if you were any more awake. The tears don’t spill, they just sit on your vision and wobble at best. What all of the men in this room see when they look at you, is a violent young killer. They ask you about it when you’re shot up with fluids until you can barely hold your eyes open, and you have to pretend to really hear them. To be remorseful. How can you, when you can’t even remember your own face? You forget your name seconds after they call it. And most frustrating of all, is that you do remember that you can’t remember. This is forever, no matter how little threat there is of re-offending now that they’ve ‘found’ the right mix of chemicals to knock you out like a light.

They say you killed your fiancé with a kitchen knife.

You might have… the honest truth is that you don’t know. The pictures look entirely foreign, even though that face, that mouth, that tear-stricken expression is supposedly you. You don’t remember getting your head smashed against the kitchen counter until blood coated the entire bottom half of your face, and trying to get away. You don’t remember grabbing the knife and plunging it into your fiancé’s collar, or anything that came after it either. It’s like the blood running out of your nose got clogged up and now, you can’t recall anything at all.

Just these gray walls, and the cold floor of your ‘room’, and the brief walks you’re allowed to take outside under the cloudy weather that always surrounds the criminal hospital. All these men standing before you know more about you than you do yourself. More wetness wells up in your eyes, but it doesn’t spill. You don’t feel violent. But you also can barely hold your head up without the support of the metal brace, and they say you did what you did. At this point, your thoughts are too heavy and slow to disprove any of it, pooling in your mouth with your spit— and gliding down your throat each time you risk choking when you swallow.

“How about we call it for today?” A coarse voice sounds from the far off confines of the cloudiness that the drugs leave you with. But it’s a voice that sparks something yet, accompanied by the only young face that you’ve seen in a while. He’s tall and dark haired and intense, but looks too at ease when he walks along, stopping a few feet short. Everyone else looks like you’re a wild animal. But he’s warmer, like sand after a long day of baking in the sun. “You’ve done well,” he almost smiles at you, then turns to them. “That’s alright, isn’t it? My patient’s been awfully accommodating with all the tests.”

He carries this air about him that’s more familiar, where his hand lands on the top of your head and he gently brushes your crown in circles. You feel your head bobbing because of the pressure, and your eyes heavier than before. When you gain more awareness again, you’re already back in the small four walls that keep you enclosed— and the Doctor is crouched before you. Beautiful greens stare into your eyes, a few fingers holding your chin up. It’s warm. Your mouth feels dry and cottony when you speak, and hold your eyes open as best you can. “Sir.”

“Hm?” His free hand slides something into your ear, that’s cold and beeps softly, before he looks again. “Do you know where you are? Do you know who I am?” After a bit of silence, he sighs, and you smell the musk of him, mixed with some cologne that stings your lungs a little. But it’s better than nothing, and your mouth waters like you’re really just a dog. “Your bouts of amnesia have been getting worse lately, hm, sweet girl? Naturally…” His fingers go from holding your head up to along your throat, brushing hot circles there for just a few seconds, before he takes the beeping tool out again. “I’m your main physician here, remember? You asked for me specifically.”

That seems to bring him a lot of pride, because when he hangs back more onto his heels, he gives you a tooth-aching smile. “Dr. Iwaizumi Hajime.” You suppose he wants to see some kind of recognition, but you’re not sure what to say. Aside from the vaguest hint of recognition of the handsome planes of his face, everything stays that same muddled sea of glue that you can’t pull your feet out of. You do your best to smile though, muscles aching.

“Oh, yes.”

“Are you still feeling ill?” he turns to his box of tools, and you slump along the wall as soon as he lets you go. Not enough to topple over, but enough to feel more like a filled sack of sand, than a human. “Still having hot flares?” He places his large palm over your forehead, and scans your expression once over again. “If it were up to me they wouldn’t pump you full of this shit, y’know. Sadly even your personal physician doesn’t have full say over that, of course, so I have to play nice with the other doctors.” Then he cups your cheek, and though maybe you’d shy away otherwise, the kind touch of another human being has your bottom lip wobbling. “There she is. You’ve been awfully docile these last few weeks. Haven’t heard you make a peep.”

The tone shifts to one of slightly more concern, and your heavy lids flutter. “I don’t know.”

“Yeah, you wouldn’t, sweetheart.” He starts packing up his things ever so neatly when you just start getting feeling back in your fingers— and you probably shouldn’t, but with enormous effort you manage to grab onto the bottom of his white coat, surprising the doctor enough that it goes quiet. You just want… to talk to another person a little longer. Does that make you a bad patient? Your tongue is molten against the bottom of your mouth, but your fingers still tighten clumsily into the fabric.

Dr. Iwaizumi only thinks for a moment when heat creeps up to his ears, before he closes the gap. Closes the gap and … has your mouth against his, a wet tongue that isn’t your own invades your space like it isn’t anything at all, and spit that mixes with yours as your lips are opened with some effort. He kisses on you, licks into your mouth as you let your eyes fall shut and your hand clings onto him -unsure where to go- to flee. And get kissed deeply, passionately, your head knocked against the wall at your back. But he’s warm, and your goosebumps let up for the first time, even as he doesn’t allow you to pull back with both hands around your cheeks. Not until your body automatically starts making a noise, and you start to struggle.

You gasp out for air like you’ve forgotten where it goes— but the brunet barely leaves you any space at all, as a string of spit breaks between you two. And he wipes his thumb over your bottom lip, before sliding it onto your tongue with a gravelly moan. “Ahh, I missed you.” The pressure of his thumb keeping your wiggling tongue in place is suffocating. He leans in to brush his nose and lips along your jaw and cheek. “Always miss you when I have to go.” There’s a soft kiss that tingles across your face, before he pulls back. The noises of other cells echo down the hall, and though you can’t see them, the yelling gets louder. He doesn’t even blink, though. Is this yet another thing you’ve forgotten about?

Judging by the way he takes his thumb out of your mouth to slide it into his own, and then looks at you with such love-stricken adoration, you must have. Your shell-shocked quiet doesn’t stop him from giving you another barely-hidden smile, and he brushes his knuckle under your eye to get rid of some wetness there. “I’ve got to go check up on some others, or else they’ll come looking for me.” He packs up the last of his tools, wiping them clean, before tracing his eyes along your features again. “You’re such a doll. Can’t believe you have to be locked up here.” He stands, then clicks his tongue as he seems to stare through the walls with narrowing brows. “I handled you just fine before, didn’t I?”

You can’t say anything. Not only because you’re still bursting with adrenaline, but it’s not like you remember. He seems to come to this conclusion at the same time, because he then softly laughs. “Ah, you wouldn’t know. Forget I said anything.” He takes a moment to adjust himself in his pants unashamed, then tucks his shirt back properly in— clinging to his built figure too much. With another pat on your crown, he nods. “You’ll start waking up more in an hour or so. I’ll be back.”

With that he leaves you behind, and the heavy metal door gets slid back into place before you get the chance to make another peep. And tears well back up before he even locks the hatch.

+

The darkness of the room is in sharp contrast with the bright overhead light that’s beaming down on your face. You can’t help it, you’re trashing against the straps that hold you to the table, and the rag that’s in your mouth does nothing to prevent the feeling of sheer panic that takes over you. As several white shapes roam around you with low commands that you can’t make out over the sound of your own crying, you miss the numbing. It was better when you couldn’t feel a thing at all -at least then you wouldn’t be choking on your own tears as you try to take deep breaths.

Everything’s blurry.

But the slight edge in one of the voices pulls for attention, trying to focus on the sound. If you can’t see through your tears, you can listen. “Aren’t we being too hasty? Her memory and attention span have been basically stagnant since June— which means she’s not worsening.” There’s that voice that has been chasing you every waking hour of the last -week, maybe more- rough and low, but comforting nevertheless. You can tell that one of the blurry white shapes moves closer to you, and try to angle yourself to get closer. Even an inch closer would be better.

“No offense Doctor, but your judgment has been overruled. You’re speaking solely out of personal care for the girl.” Another old voice cuts in. “She’s been deteriorating every day, and we simply do not have the funding, Iwaizumi. The only reason we’re allowing you here is for educational purposes. But don’t forget you’re still on probation until the end of this year.”

A hand wraps around your own, feeling much warmer than you are. You cling to it with all the strength you have. Sadly it isn’t much. Your fingers barely obey your will to curl back around the touch, the only thing that’s keeping you tethered to the real world. “I’ll take personal responsibility for her, Sir. She’s been improving in my care—”

“Enough of this.” The older voice cuts in. “Like I said, you have been overruled. This is the quickest and cleanest cure for violent insanity in women.” You can’t help but start thrashing against the binds, and try to speak around the gag that keeps your mouth jerked open, but nothing other than a soft crying comes out. You’re not sure if it’s the panic or the drugs anymore. Multiple of the men round on the table, and you’re pressed down deeper into the leather covering. You don’t want to hurt anyone again. Promise. Promise. Your arms are held down, and your forehead’s pressed down too.

“She bit a guard’s finger clean off. We can’t possibly justify not treating such a danger.” None of this is my fault, you think— but they have yet to ask you. They have yet to listen. You suddenly have an overwhelming sense of loneliness, remembering flashes of faces you must have loved. People who must have loved you - though you can’t recall them. There’s an awful scraping noise as the metal tool table is rolled closer, and some man with a mask dips into your view.

You never meant to hurt anyone.

You’re bawling now. The adrenaline pumps through your veins as you stare up at the light, then swallow around the gag. There’s some more rummaging as the warm touch leaves your hand, and you sniffle. You squeeze your eyes closed tightly. A wet wipe is dragged over your eyes without warning, swiping your hot tears away, and finally your wiggling stops. There’s no use. The leather’s digging into your skin, and the sad moaning that you can bring out doesn’t convince any of these men that you’re sane. Maybe you’re not. Would you even know it? They clean your face with rough swipes, and then something even more restrictive is placed over your head. “Alright, she’s sanitized.” You try not to choke on your hiccups. “Surgery in session. Doctor...”

You just want to go home. You want to go home, please.

There’s a prick under your brow that takes you by surprise. It’s sharp, and though you can’t feel it sting like it would without any drugs— it’s still uncomfortable. The gear around your face keeps you from moving, keeping you stuck to the table, but your breathing instinctively gets more shallow, and rapid. Before you can say, or do, or think, a loud smack knocks your head back and heat spills all over your face. A push so hard against your skull that makes your body tense so tight your bones feel like splintering. The pressure’s unbearable— more than just painful, it’s a loud thumping, shaking your entire skull. You want them to stop.

Pain, p-p-pain rocks you upside down.

The pain ebbs in over your entire face —suffocating you from the inside, like a knife’s being wedged along the inside of your eye socket— scraping, and the blood’s everywhere. Streaming all over your face and swelling your eyes and cheeks and head. Your nose is full of it, forcing you to choke down the thick coppery heat. It grinds before it snaps, and the resonating clack of your bone giving in is loud enough to deafen everything else. It hurts. It hurts. You’re sleepy. Sick and in pain and wired too tight all at once, not able to think before another thump knocks you over the head and your head vibrates until it explodes. Or not.

Please stop.

it hur-ts. hurts.

It floods your ears with static, indescribable pressure, and worms deeper until everything’s black - out like a lightswitch.

…

He feels bad.

They’re jamming the metal rod deeper and shaking it hard enough to rock your head. Your poor, pretty face mangled and covered in a fresh, red-hot coating that will be his job to clean up later. Iwa’s breath is bated, and the coppery tang sticks to his lungs.

+

The halls echo with his rhythmic steps. Iwaizumi hates the smell of this place, treated air that circles around a thousand times before getting out. He hates the monotonous routine of it all— and he hates above all else that people are constantly on his back to leave you for some retarded nut that takes up all of his patience. But he is a Doctor. It’s expected of him, and if he gets fired before you get discharged - what was the point. He gets to your door, that familiar door with the pretty sticker of your name, and pushes in with the creaking of the metal. You’re still on the bed, barely looking up, and in some ways it hurts his heart a little.

He hadn’t really meant for it to go this way. All he ever wanted was to be near you. To have you close enough to touch and smell and hold, and for a moment after the judges’ ruling, he got his wish. With a procession that dumped you inside the barbed walls of the hospital, he’d volunteered to oversee you - and every other doctor was swamped enough not to blink twice. He’d worked so hard to get you right here— your pretty face cupped in his hands, getting to kiss you, long to come back to you each evening he’d lock up.

But then you had to bite one of the guards. He isn’t even mad about it either. The sweaty, mustached swine had been eyeing you from the second you came in, and you’d protected yourself so valiantly for such a sweet, little thing.

But it did throw a wrench into his works -  and everything kept spiraling.

“Hello doll, I missed you.” He breathes out, then pulls you upright onto the bed when you face him. “Are you hurting? Are you feeling sick?” The bruising around both eyes has gone down entirely, but there’s still a ghost of color painting your eye sockets. Still, your eyes follow his voice, but you don’t respond. He wraps his arms around your shoulders. “No? That’s good. You’re looking much better today.” You’re so warm against him, and your scent floods him as he nuzzles into your cheek with a smile. It’s not like he’s happy with this outcome. He didn’t want this to happen.

 “I’ve been thinking about you all week while you’ve been in the ICU. Missed you,” he places both hands on your face, making you smile just slightly, before kissing you on the mouth. You don’t really react, but you don’t push him away either. He kisses, and kisses, only taking brief moments between to look at you. “So much. Missed you so much. My sweet girl.” As you sit still and quiet, smiling, he can’t help but imagine taking you home already. You’ll be discharged soon enough, judging by your recovery— and when you do, all your family will have gone. Moved, or have passed away, or simply too old to be caretakers. And hey, he’s more than proven himself capable of caring.

“Do you want to kiss me more?” he asks as he leans down to you a little, capturing your attention again. “Yeah? You want to kiss more?”

“Kiss,” you parrot, and your pretty smile brightens. Fuck, he loves you. He’s not been able to stop since the day he first met you. Of course he’ll indulge you. Last time he allowed himself to let loose, things didn’t end so well. But that was before, and now he’s made very sure that no one will interrupt you both. His mouth meets yours as you sit still like a doll, nice and polite, and he opens your lips with his own, sliding his tongue into your mouth. You taste so fucking good. Maybe it’s his almost compulsive imagining leading up to this moment throughout the week, but there’s nothing better. You taste sweet and let him lead you back as he wraps your arm around him, pulling you closer.

Your arms hang limply around his waist, but no matter. It’s not like that’s stopped him before. He takes a quick scan of your fluttering lashes before you open your mouth, and he leans back in to kiss you again. Tongue sliding in to taste all of you until his entire body feels tight and his cock is so hard it’s starting to hurt against his pants. You simply oblige when he starts pushing you back onto the bed. “Back, back, back, that’s a good girl. Such a good, pretty girl for me.” His hands slide down your shoulders, over your chest as his breathing catches, and then settle at your hips to pull your butt closer to the edge. And you are pretty. It’s almost a bit unfair how good you look with your eyes half lidded and a barely there smile on your cheeks that makes him all warm inside.

“Do you know what I’m doing? What we’re gonna do?” he asks after a few seconds, and despite feeling horrible -he really does- his cock twitches when you shake your head a few times. He slides your flimsy blue gown up your thighs a bit, and moans at the sight of the smooth soft skin revealed to him. “That’s okay. I’ve got you.” Fuck, you make him feel like a timid virgin all over again, looking so damn erotic splayed out before him with no shame. He wonders if before, you’d have blushed. If you’d have whined and played coy, or if you’d have been so damn needy for his presence that you’d spread your legs for him even easier.

This is more than good enough though. He undoes his belt with slightly shaky hands, feeling the heat of your body on his skin, and then shoves a hand down his pants to take out his awfully throbbing cock. When he takes your thigh into his hand again and squeezes, you make a little moan that sounds almost like a purring cat- leaning into the warmth of his touch. His throat closes up, but he forces out a sentence as he leans in. “I’m just going to stick my hot cock inside you- you like that, don’t you? Fill you up, get nice and close?” Iwa’s mouth’s basically watering as he kisses you. He’s unable to help it. “Yeah, you like that. I know you do, pretty girl.”

He wraps a hand around the thick shaft and gives it a few slow pumps, biting back a moan. Then he sinks to his knees to hike your legs up over his shoulders and thumbs over your pussy a few times. Clear slick makes you all wet and sticky, drooling pussy waiting for his touch. He doesn’t make you wait long, because his tongue swipes out to lick up against you— sliding the wet muscle over your pussy and rubbing over the sensitive nub at the top. You let out a slight moan, and your legs twitch as he continues, licking and sucking and abusing your poor, needy cunt by rough fingers that trail around your hole before just barely slipping in to stretch you out. “Look so good, baby. You always look so good.”

“I knew,” he gets up from the floor to stand back between your legs, “that you’d still be a needy whore. Your pussy needs me even when you’re sleepy, so- fu-agh-” His cock brushes up against you as he lines up, and leans into you to grab a handful of your tits. “Can you say ‘thank you’?” You whine instead, and sort of wiggle in place, like you can’t articulate what you need. But he gets it by the way you grind yourself against the flushed, swollen head of his cock, and your mouth hangs open desperately. “Say ‘thank you for taking care of me, Doctor’,” he breathes out, while pushing into that tight, hot pussy that instantly clings to him.

You whimper, and he laces one of your hands with his by force, pulling you closer, deeper onto his cock as he slides in inch by inch. You feel so fucking good, hot enough to make his entire brain cloudy. Fuck. “I missed you so much, baby. You feel so fucking good- god.” You’re squeezing around him hard enough to make it hard to keep back the groans that spill out of him involuntarily. It’s almost like you’re doing it on purpose, but one glance at those teary, far-off eyes tells him more than you could, yourself. “Come on, say ‘thank you’. I know you can.” He winds his other hand around your soft throat and squeezes a little, until your back curls off the table and his cock bottoms out, nice and snug in the tight pouch of your tummy.

“Than’  you-” you slur back when he shakes your face a little, and though it’s a weak whimper, it’s enough to make him shudder.

“That’s a good pet- fuck. Agh-uh, my precious girl.” He pulls back and slides in again harder and deeper, speeding up the rhythm of the bed clanging against the wall. You know, he’d feel bad. He would— but your pussy’s sucking him in so deep, and your legs wrap around his thighs like you want to be even closer, like you’re still enjoying it. He leans in to kiss you again, and whispers your name like you’re cherished. You are. Each time he pulls back, more slick and wetness spills and makes the place you’re meeting into a mess, tits bouncing.

He hikes one of your legs up to your side instead, dangling over his arm to get closer, fuck you even deeper. And even you must feel the change, because you start moaning and wiggling despite yourself- as his cock fills you up again and again, bumping up against the soft heat of your walls. “You can still cum, can’t you?” His jaw clenches, and he reaches between your two sweaty bodies with messy circles over your puffy clit, unable to hold out for much longer. You’re just squeezing so fucking tight. “Cum, cum on my cock- gh-that’s it. That’s what you’re best at, aren’t you, baby~” God, you’re going to make him knock you up. Always clinging to him so fucking tight.

Your walls clench hard enough to make him see double, and before he’s even got the chance to pull out, hot ropes of cum fill you up until you’re sucking him dry.

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