#sorry i'm twisting this slightly

[earthtooz]

what do you think of reo with the jealousy + kiss cam prompt except you’re not dating (yet) so everyone is either shocked or happy because god it took you some time to realize your feelings for each other.

not proofread, very quick drabble

okay but let me present to you... reo confessing to you WITH the kiss cam.

he's got the money, the influence, and the will to bend things his way with just a flick of his hand. so with almost no effort, he sets it up.

you're the physotherapist's assistant, having been fortunate enough to land the opportunity of shadowing the manager of one of the top soccer teams in all of japan. an opportunity that came with a lot of advantages; decent pay for someone of your age, a great learning experience, and frequent interactions with a lot of (hot) athletes.

just as any job, however, there are also downsides... such as... developing feelings for one of the said athletes. a certain purple-haired who was way out of your league.

for professional sake, you kept reo at arm's length. to your dismay, he kept trying to lure you in.

whether it be spending unnecessary amounts of time with you, staying back after practice to help you sort through some files, buying you coffee with the excuse that he was 'given another one', or carrying all the equipment- not that soccer even had much equipment, so that you didn't have to.

as sweet as reo is, and as much as you want to delude yourself into thinking that it was because he was interested in you too, there are a lot of issues that could arise when it comes to pursuing a relationship with mikage reo.

therefore, for professional sake, you will continue to keep reo at arm's length. to your dismay, your plan turns south one fateful night.

it's the night of the finals and the matches just finished with a victory to your team, 5-2. the stadium and the team are hyped beyond belief, absolutely buzzing with energy and adrenaline as everyone celebrates, pumping their fists excitedly or collapsing to the ground in total exhaustion.

after presenting the awards, thanking the opposing team, and clearing the stadium out, all excitement eventually dies down as the boys let the victory sink in.

handing out their water bottles one by one as they go, you leave them with a congratulatory pat on the back. bachira bear hugs you with unforgiving tightness, but other than that, all the players thank you with a small smile or fist bump before retreating to the change rooms.

then, it's reo's turn, who is last out of all the team.

your heart thumps in your chest, trying your best to remain cool and composed in front of him.

"congratulations," you grin, holding out his water bottle for him to take. he does, but lingers, finding no hurry in rushing back to the change rooms.

"thanks," he huffs. "couldn't have been possible without you."

you laugh at that. "don't give me credit for something i could never do. it was all you guys, impressive as always."

he beams even bigger at that. "are you joining the team celebration later tonight?"

"what? oh, no, i'm heading home."

"why, are you busy?"

"not particularly, but i didn't want to intrude."

"that's ridiculous. you could never intrude, you've helped all of us so much."

"i'm flattered you think so," you break eye contact, wandering over to where the duffel bags of first aid and other medicine is. reo follows, even though it's just a few steps away. "but i really don't want to overstep, it's the team's win."

he frowns. "then can i ask of you another favour?"

"sure. what is it?"

the purple-haired points up and you instinctively follow the line of direction.

the kisscam. it's centred on you and reo. you feel your heart skip a beat and your breath hitch, clogging up your lungs. you almost drop the first aid kit too.

no way...

looking back at the athlete, he's giving you that boyish smile of his, laced with hope and sudden shyness.

"hey," is all he says. you blink at him.

"wh-what?"

"aren't you supposed to kiss me now?"

"i'm so confused, why is this happening, the game's ended-"

"-can you kiss me or not?"

your heart is hammering, reverberating violently up your spine and into your ears.

"what?"

"can i kiss you?"

"w-wh- do you want to?" you splutter.

"yeah. i do. please?"

throwing all common sense and ethics out of the window, you give in to his pleas rather easily. "oh. okay."

everything that happens next happens in the blink of an eye. you feel his hand on your waist, then your chest pressing against his, and his warm breath fan across your lips before pulling you in for the most gentle, yet adoring, kiss you have ever received in your whole life. there's no bone in your body that tries to resist him, so, you allow yourself to sink right into him, letting go of your inhibitions (and the first aid kit).

reo doesn't let the noise distract him, instead, he throws away his bottle too and wraps both arms around your waist, deepening the kiss. his lips are slightly chapped from all that running around, but you could hardly care less.

after a few moments, you pull away, leaving the both of you with glistening lips and smiles wide enough to hurt your cheeks.

ridiculous. this all seems so ridiculous.

but it's real. you feel reo's breath fanning across your lips with every exhale, you see the strands of hair that stick to his forehead, and you hear the cheers and whoops of his teammates from the side. they look proud, some yelling 'finally!', causing reo to laugh triumphantly, throwing his head back whilst holding you tightly.

you hide your face in reo's neck, seeking protection from your embarrassment in his warmth. he holds you there.

"i've been waiting so long to do that," he says, rubbing circles on your back.

"yeah?"

"yeah."

"sorry to have kept you waiting, then."

"it's not a problem, i would gladly wait for you, but..." reo trails off, a mischievous smile appearing along his lips. "i'll accept your apology if you come to the party? with me."

"with you?"

"as my date."

[saltygilmores]

Pussy Pursuing Publisher Presents Penis Picasso Portrait to Puzzled Proud Parental Person at Philadelphia Publishing Place

Philadelphia Publisher Playfully Punches Patella of Philandering Previous Partner, Probes Parking Position

[wonder-worker]

J.L. Laynesmith taking the 'Buckingham Did It™' route for the murder of the Princes in the Tower AND the rumors of Edward IV's bastardy ... I have to laugh

[anastacialyart]

05.03.23 || hold me like you mean it.

[fluxweeed]

List 5 things that make you happy, then put this in the ask box of the last 10 people that reblogged from you! <3

[first person i thought of to send this to XD]

hahaha. a bit of context for the bit in square brackets: a few weeks ago i did a grumpy tweet (the only kind of tweet i do tbh) complaining about people saying "everyone has been tagged in this already!" on tumblr tag games bc i don’t think it’s a good way of expressing the sentiment of "i can't think of anyone else to tag". i feel like it comes across as exclusionary! and elitist! if someone reads that and HASN’T been tagged, they're going to feel bad!

but obv it came across as "wah wah nobody tags me in things and i'm a big sad baby" lmao. so thank you for going out of ur way to make sure this big sad baby feels included in the tag games, gentle folk who immediately tagged me in things after my little tweet rant! you have the kindest hearts this world has ever seen.

anyway:

✨ five things that make me happy ✨

drinking a cup of tea at the perfect temperature

finishing a WIP

sitting outside in the sun

harry james potter

bed

thanks for the message, M 🥰❤️

[spkyscry-a]

@royalreef​ replied:  👁👁👁 INCH RESTING......................

My brain comes up with wild shit and idek how react... 

[ghostgirl101]

I just wanna say that I am SO excited for the part 2 to your Paul Destiny fic. I have so many questions and Im excited to see if they get answered. Like if Paul is pledging his love to the reader then is the romance plot with Chani still relevant? Is the reader still the princess here? Very interesting

Imagine if Paul Atreides claimed you as his destiny: PART Ⅱ of Ⅱ

|| Word Count: 1.7K || Fluff ||

A/N: Honestly, I didn't think this would blow up so much- 1k+ likes??! Thank you all, it's sick 🙃 in answer to your questions, I didn't really specify if the reader (you) are part of a Great House or the Emperor's daughter, or maybe someone else, that's kind of up to your imagination. And yeah, sorry Chani fans, I kind of kicked her to the curb lmao; This is all about you, and so enjoy the second and final part of this destiny trope before I work on some relationship headcanons for Paul and Feyd-Rautha... Requests are open for Dune 2, so don't be shy 📩

You can't escape fate.

It's as real as the Spice that threads through the grains of sand blanketing Arrakis in heavy, warm golden waves. It twists and turns in the air, in the tides of change, something beyond understanding roping together reality and its lives to bond, whether in love or hate.

At least, with the newly ascended young Emperor, you know which side you're on. Since the day of his declaration and claiming of you as his Empress, you've never once left his sight, unknowingly or not. The boy is almost ridiculously close and observant, as if testing the depths of the events unfolding around him, testing to see whether you'll try to run from them, from him. But you can't run from fate, either.

"You aren't resting."

Paul's soft, low voice slices through the silence of the dusk, the only words you hear before you feel his warm, firm arms slipping under your arms and around your middle, pulling you into his front in a smooth, protective motion. His chocolate brown locks tickle your neck and cheek as he gazes up at you from your shoulder; wandering, curious eyes study yours knowingly, his natural hues tainted blue with the Spice.

"What troubles you?"

You hesitate in your response, unsure of the right thing to say. There's no point in lying, not to him, to a boy who could easily use the power of his Voice to make you tell him everything and anything with just a few words. He's done it to the Bene Gesserit, to those who speak out of turn and challenge him cluelessly, but never to you. And something tells you that he never will.

"I'm sorry," is how you answer instead, in a small whisper, trying to read his expression before his reaction.

But all Paul does is give you one of his soft, amused smirks, a brow raising slightly, unconvinced.

"Don't apologise to anyone for anything," he murmurs, his fingers drifting to lock with yours, his hand hot and strong in yours. "We are to be wed, you and I, soon. So what troubles you?"

"It's not you," you tell him as earnestly as you can, his eyes capturing yours and holding them as you blink up at him. "I'm just... nervous."

"Nervous?" Paul repeats gently, his hands squeezing yours for a moment, his face an inch away from yours. "What have you to be nervous about?" He grins slightly, not attempting to hide his teasing amusement. "A wedding?"

You can't help but smile at his tone, savouring the unguarded moments of the new, young Emperor, his boyish traits lingering beneath the newfound power and promises passed down to him.

You were nervous, because you weren't so familiar with destiny and its quirks, and yet, Paul Atreides seemed to be its master. Nervous, because although there was a strange pull between you and him, a deeper part of you somehow knowing him, at an instinctive ease with him, you had never met him before these past few days, and now, you were going to be joined together for time indefinite by marriage. Nervous, because he didn't just want you to rule with him, but alongside him, as a partner, a second part of him. His second half who's with him in soul, not just spirit, physically, not just mentally. And he's relishing in it.

"I've never had one before," you shake your head with a light smile, "I don't know what to expect. Or what's expected of me."

Paul hums to himself at your reply, pausing for a while as he thinks over his words.

"It isn't just a wedding," he tells you quietly, "it's so much more. This... this a beginning. A new dawn."

"Beginning?" You echo in bemusement, looking up at him in wonder. "Of what?"

"Of a new era," Paul says thoughtfully, his hands moving from yours to run over and down your sides, tracing over your figure absentmindedly, a gesture that makes you hold your breath for a beat as you watch him, "the first of many. You are more than a mere future. You're the future. My future. And the future of my people."

The sincerity and conviction in his voice makes you stare back at him in slight awe, taken by his certainty of what he's seen in the deepest stretches of his mind, the flickering images of you, adorned in all your natural beauty and grace that he could find nothing short of perfect. You were a fantasy and a hope materialised. Someone he'd wished and dreamed for so much, that you came true, just as you should have.

"Anything that happens to you," Paul continues, looking you straight in the eye as he speaks, "happens to me. You have always been mine, and I was yours before then. Absolutely and completely."

And his words make a home in your head, everything he says so poetic and beautifully surreal, but so honest and unwaveringly confident. He didn't need to practise what he said before he whispered the sweet words in your ear, in a voice only you could catch, in the long, warm nights on Arrakis. There was no need for practice. He had been made for this, and he wouldn't have it any other way.

You let yourself relax slightly in his grips, giving him an earnest smile. "That sounds nice."

Paul smiles back at you, a bright, sweet smile that makes him seem so soft and normal, almost forgetting for a moment of his utter strength and glory over the planets, his dangerous darkness that he occasionally allowed to rule over his actions at the tensest of times, until those who stood up against him retreated in bewilderment and fascination and fear.

"It does," he agrees, his gaze dropping to look out at the dunes beyond you, "you can't imagine..."

You couldn't. But every part of you wanted to. And those parts won.

"Won't you tell me?"

Paul's attention shifts back to you after you speak, before you can stop yourself.

"Would it be kind to tell you?" He asks aloud, speaking half to himself as his eyes go to search yours again, studying every inch of you, almost unsettlingly intently.

"Do you dream?" Paul questions you softly, and you dither before shaking your head.

"Not like you do," you answer steadily.

"Like I do. Seeing your face amidst the streaks of sunbeams and every kind of ethereal power that could create wonders, planets, worlds. Waking up, and you're not here, though it felt so real," he goes on, his voice laced with longing, as if it pained him to remember the feeling. "Realer than I've ever felt anything before. Every sense in me was awakened, because with destiny, I saw hope. And I did not know that hope could be so.... beautifully... angelic."

Paul draws closer and closer with each word, pulled by invisible strings to rest his forehead against yours, closing his eyes for a long moment to breathe, breathe you in. The sight of it is almost dizzyingly hypnotic, staring at the little scattered freckles over his fair, lightly tanned skin, cheeks flushed golden. He moves his face to rub his cheek against yours, seeking out affection in an irresistible rare, vulnerable move. Your hand reaches up to brush your fingers against it, and he takes it in his immediately, pressing his lips against your fingertips as he speaks.

"I need you," Paul insists, his voice firm and pressing again as he stares at you with a spark of desperation. "I need only you. More than you can comprehend. By my side, always, where you belong."

"I'm right here," you reply a little giddily, looking away from his eyes slightly bashfully from the intensity and unbridled longing of his gaze. "I suppose I'm just not used to this."

"To what?" Paul questions, his fingers tilting your chin up softly to force your eyes back up to his, his face a little closer than before. "To being an Empress?"

Before you can respond, he's pushed himself closer over you, his warm, damp lips sliding and pressing against yours and parting to encourage you to deepen his affections. It sends hot shockwaves rushing straight through your blood, as Paul crouches over you, all patience and purpose forgotten in the moment where it's just the two of you in the calm, lingering desert night.

You fit together perfectly, too perfectly for his words to be untrue, and his head tilts keenly where your fingers skim his neck, his lips parting from yours as they tangle in his hair with a short gasp. He loses none of his confidence and persistence, his azure blue eyes a shade darker as he watches you with an open trace of adoration.

"A queen?"

"Paul," you start shakily, as he smirks at you fondly, his head ducking to trace his tongue briefly up the skin of your neck, with a faint chuckle.

"To being desired?"

You glare at him weakly, hanging onto his hands tight to find some sense of grounding. "You're just playing with me."

"I intend to do so much more than that," Paul grins at you, kissing your cheek before burying his face against your shoulder. "And so should you. Test the depths of our connection. Push it to its limits. Push me. Please."

You find yourself speechless again at his way with words, simple and truthful, but full of passion and unthought romance, a sensation he's been craving since the first shadows of your being in his hazy dreams and visions.

"Give into your destiny, sweet girl," he croons to you in a whisper, his lips brushing against yours and pressing down against your skin needily, hungrily. It takes almost inhumane strength not to crumble and shiver under his touch and desire radiating off him and his dark glare, the wanting over years of dreams and prophecies building up to its peak. "Give into me."

"I think I will," you whisper back in awe and giddiness, your arms having to hold tightly around his neck to stay upright. "I think I want to."

"That's good," he praises you with a soft smile, as his voice lowers. "And besides," Paul mutters in your ear, nuzzling against your cheek breathlessly, with that subtle, teasing look in his eyes, "I plan on taking you as mine well before the wedding."

══════════════⊹⊱≼ fin ≽⊰⊹══════════════

Taglist (lmk if you want to be added to this for my future Dune fanfics): @minaxcarter @milaeth @ennycutie @weird0o0 @aoi-targaryen @jindongdongie

[gubsbuubs]

Headache Relief

(18+)

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Female!Reader

Word Count: ~ 4.5K

Warnings: Sex duh, creampie.

Summary: When Spencer seeks relief for his intense headaches, he finds more than just painkillers in Y/n's room.

A/N: Hi everyone, I've been away... I know... I know. This bar exam prep is kicking my ass. I've got some other works on the way but I had to finish this one and share it with you guys.

English is not my first language. I hope you all enjoy it, and any and all comments are appreciated 🍒

Y/n laid on the bed, her tired eyes scanning the pages of the worn book, the weight of today's concluded case still heavy on her mind. The darkened motel room was softly illuminated by the gentle glow of the muted television, casting faint shadows that danced across the walls. Her peace was abruptly shattered by a knock at her door, soft yet insistent, pulling her away from the comfort of the pages.

Glancing at the bedside clock, the red digits of 1:52 glowed back at her, stirring a sense of urgency.

Could something have happened? Her worry mounted with each passing second. With a quick exhale, she rose from the bed, her heart pounding with apprehension. Her slender fingers fumbled with the lock as she approached the door, anticipation gnawing at her. When it swung open, she was met with a sight that caused her stomach to twist with concern.

There he stood, his appearance disheveled, his exhaustion evident in the lines etched upon his face. The fingers of his left hand pressed firmly against the bridge of his nose, while his right hand leaned heavily against the wall for support. Dressed in a mismatched ensemble of a band shirt and pajama pants, he looked like he had been through a rough night.

"Spence?!" she exclaimed, her voice tinged with worry, the concern evident in her tone.

His bloodshot eyes met hers, "Y/n, I'm sorry... I know it's late," he murmured, his voice hoarse and barely above a whisper.

"Are you okay?" Her hand instinctively reached out to touch his shoulder, feeling the tension in his muscles beneath her fingertips.

"I….I need your help…" His breathing was ragged, and his words came out in a rush, "It´s happening again," he admitted, vulnerability seeping through.

"Come in" Y/n said softly, tugging lightly on his shoulder.

He sat on the end of her bed, the weight of exhaustion evident in every line of his posture. She closed the door behind her, the soft click echoing in the dimly lit room. Turning to face him, she found him hunched over, his hands pressed firmly against the sides of his temples as he massaged his own head, his face contorting in pain.

"I... I know you always carry a pouch of medicine everywhere you go," he began, "I thought... maybe you could help me."

Y/n's heart softened at the vulnerability in his voice, realizing he must be in significant pain to ask for medicine, so without a word, she crossed the room. Rummaging through her bag, her fingers closed around a small pill bottle, and then she grabbed a water bottle from the mini-fridge.

With a sense of urgency, she handed them to Spencer before sitting by his side.

"Here, Spence," she said softly. "Take this. It should help."

Spencer accepted the pill and water with gratitude, his hands trembling slightly as he struggled to open the cap. Taking a deep breath, he swallowed the pill with a gulp of water, placing the bottle on the floor afterward

A moment of silence passed, and Spencer attempted to stand, but his head swam with dizziness. Y/n reacted swiftly, rising faster than anticipated to catch him just as his legs gave way beneath him.

With a gentle yet firm grip, she guided him back down onto the bed, her heart racing as he sat back down.

"Whoa, whoa, Spence, are you okay?" Her voice was filled with worry as she steadied him, her hands offering support and holding him upright. "I think you might need to lie down for a bit," she suggested, concern evident in her eyes.

He opened his mouth to talk, even looked up to lock his eyes with hers, but feeling unsteady he leaned forward, and breath in deeply as his head came to rest against her stomach.

"I'm sorry," he rushed, his voice muffled against her, "The dizziness... it's from the pain" his words tinged with frustration. "It'll pass as soon as the medication kicks in."

As he attempted to lift his head, another wave of dizziness washed over him, causing him to sway once again. Y/n instinctively pulled him closer, stepping between his legs and encouraging him to hug her waist for support. "Hey, it's okay, Spence," she reassured "Just hold on to me until you feel better. I'm here for you."

"I'm sorry," his voice was soft and as low as whisper.

“Shhhhhh” Her right hand met the back of his head, applying gentle pressure to certain points.

"I just… I don't want to impose on your space, I just..." His sentence was interrupted by a relieved sigh, the tension slowly melting away under her comforting touch.

"Spencer, that's what friends are for," Y/n murmured softly, as she continued to massage his head, the tension gradually ebbing away.

As her words reached his ears, Spencer couldn't help but feel grateful for having such a caring friend by his side.

"Friend… right...." he taught to himself.

Amidst the urgency for the relief of mediation and the dizziness that followed, he'd become oblivious to the situation he found himself in. His hands intertwined around her, gripping tighthy on her waist, his head nestled against her stomach, while her gentle touch sought to alleviate his suffering.

In that moment, the intimacy of their position became glaringly apparent. Yes they were just friends, yet here they were, intertwined in a way that transcended mere friendship.

Another sigh of relief left Spencer's lips as he felt her touch soothe his pain and provide a sense of comfort that he hadn't felt in a long time.

"Is this helping?" She asked gently.

"Yeah, it is. Thank you, Y/n," Spencer replied gratefully, lightly nodding his head against her stomach.

She looked down at him, nestled against her, he looked calm, relieved, like he belongs close to her.

She paused the movement of her fingers for a moment, considering how she could further alleviate his discomfort. "Maybe I could massage your head. That could help, right?"

Spencer nodded once again, lightly lifting his chin to grace her with a faint smile that tugged at the corners of his lips. "Actually, head massages can be quite effective for relieving headaches," he said, slipping into his familiar role of sharing facts and statistics. "They help to increase blood flow and reduce muscle tension, which can provide significant relief from pain."

"Well then, let me try something," Slowly, she stepped away, feeling his hands brush against her sides and hips as she moved back. With measured steps, Y/n climbed into the bed behind him, settling against the headboard. Spencer turned his head back slightly to look at her, a hint of confusion evident in his expression.

He watched her as she motioned with her hand, encouraged him, "Come here, lay back." She patted the sheets between her legs, inviting him to find comfort in her embrace.

As Spencer looked at her, the world around him seemed to fade into the background. His gaze traveled up her legs, lingering on the bare skin of her thighs barely covered by her shorts and the oversized shirt that draped over her frame. Despite the pain that throbbed in his head, he couldn't help but appreciate the sight before him. There was a softness in her features, a gentleness in the way she sat against the headboard, her legs spread slightly, inviting him closer.

A wince of pain brought him back to reality, and with a nod, he complied, scooting back onto the bed and laying back into her embrace.

His head found its place between her legs, his head lightly leaning onto her lower stomach, the warmth of the bare skin of her thighs brushing against his cheeks and neck.

Despite the pain, his mind started to wander as he laid there.

As her fingers worked their way through his hair, easing the tension in his temples, Spencer's thoughts began to drift. He couldn't help but be acutely aware of the softness of her skin against his face, and the delicate scent of florals that surrounded her.

As they lingered in the quiet intimacy of the moment, Y/n's gentle massage continued to soothe Spencer's temples. Though the pain started to subsided, the thoughts of her only seemed to intensify, swirling through his mind like a tempestuous storm. Lost in his reverie, Spencer's awareness heightened as he glanced down and noticed … his pants were a little tighter now.

A wave of embarrassment washed over him as he realized the effect she was having on him. Quickly he sat up, his cheeks burning and his breathing picking up speed.

"Is everything okay, Spencer?" she asked, her voice filled with genuine worry. "Did I hurt you?"

Spencer hesitated, his mind racing as he struggled to find the right words. He didn't want to admit that he got hard and now had to leave the room, but the concern in her eyes urged him to speak.

"No, no, you didn't do anything wrong," Spencer stammered, his voice tinged with embarrassment. "You were a real help, but I should leave. I don't want to... You should rest now." As he attempted to get up and leave the bed, Y/n's hand shot out, grabbing his arm firmly. She tried to meet his eyes but his gaze kept shifting away, so Y/n's eyes inadvertently wandered downward, drawn by a curious instinct. And there it was, beneath the fabric of his pijama pants, a subtle but unmistakable tenting. Heat flooded her cheeks as realization dawned on her, and her hand instinctively flew left of his arm to cover her surprised mouth.

"I... I..." Spencer began, his words catching in his throat as he struggled to find the right thing to say. Despite his attempts to speak, the words remained elusive, trapped on the tip of his tongue like a fleeting thought.

"I need to go," he finally muttered getting up. But before he could make a move to leave, Y/n's hand now met his, halting him in his tracks.

"Spencer, wait," she implored, her tone gentle yet firm, her eyes searching for understanding.

"Y/n, I... I'm so sorry," the words tumbled from his lips in a rush of guilt and regret. "You've been such a great friend, and I couldn't help but..." he sighed heavily.

"Oh, you probably think I´m such a pervert..." His voice trailed off, unable to continue, as shame washed over him. He felt like he had crossed a line, making her uncomfortable in a way he had never intended.

"You don't need to apologize," she said, "And you're not a perv, you haven't made me uncomfortable."

"What?" he asked in disbelief, looking up at her with confusion in his eyes.

Y/n smiled softly, "I understand Spencer."

"You understand?" His eyebrows were furrowed, and his heart was racing.

"Humm humm," she nodded her head, looking up in to his eyes.

"What do you mean?" He asked, feeling a mix of emotions swirling inside him.

He watched closely, as she gently took his hand, guiding it down until his fingertips met the warmth of her covered core. His breath caught in his throat as a rush of heat surged through him, his heart pounding with a mixture of shock and desire.

"I understand," she whispered softly, her voice filled with desire.

Spencer's mind reeled with the intensity of the moment, his senses overwhelmed by the heady scent of her arousal and the softness of her touch. He felt a surge of longing flood through him, a primal urge driving him to lean in closer, to explore the depths of her desire.

"Are you sure?" Spencer's voice almost faltered as he felt the wetness seeping through the fabric. His heart pounded in his chest. As he gazed into her eyes, he saw nothing but longing and desire reflected back at him.

She nodded, her lips parted in anticipation of what was to come. With a gentle touch, his hand met her cheek, guiding her closer until their lips met in a passionate kiss.

The intensity of their kiss grew, fueling their desire as Spencer's hand ventured boldly, tracing circles over her covered clit. A small moan escaped her as his tongue brushed her bottom lip asling for enterence.

"Fuck," she gasped, her breath hitching as she felt the bed dip beneath her. Her heart raced with anticipation as Spencer knelt before her, his gaze filled with hunger and desire.

With trembling hands, Spencer reached for the hem of her clothing. Before he peeled away the fabric, he looked up at her, his gaze searching for reassurance.

"Do you want me too keep going, Y/n?" he whispered, his voice tinged with urgency. He needed to be certain that she was ready to take this step with him, to surrender to the passion that burned between them.

Y/n met his gaze with unwavering determination. "Yes... yes... I need you, Spence," she whined.

With a shaky breath, Spencer slowly dragged the fabric of her shorts down her legs, his hands trembling with anticipation as he revealed her nakedness to him. Y/n watched him with bated breath, a flush of heat spreading across her skin as her clothing fell away, leaving her exposed and vulnerable before him. She reached for the hem of her shirt, her fingers fumbling slightly with the fabric before she managed to pull it over her head, tossing it aside with a sense of urgency. Now fully exposed, she stood before him, her body illuminated by the soft glow of the room.

Spencer's gaze trailed over her naked form. He watched intently as the slight chill in the air caused her nipples to harden, standing erect against the smooth curve of her breasts.

Y/n felt utterly exposed, her body laid bare before him.

With a steady hand, Spencer reached out, his touch gentle yet firm as he took her right nipple between his index and middle finger. A gasp escaped her lips as she felt the sensation ripple through her. She arched her back instinctively.

"Fuck... please," Y/n whimpered, her voice laced with desperation as she parted her legs further, inviting him closer. With a sense of urgency, she reached for his hand, guiding it to where she wanted it most.

Feeling her warmth and wetness against his fingers, Spencer's desire surged as he explored her delicate folds. Now there was no fabric between the soft skin of his fingers and the warm, slick slit of her pussy. He moaned at the sigth and teased her with slow, deliberate strokes.

Spencer's breath hitched as he added another finger, the sensation of her tightness and warmth driving him wild with desire. With each movement of his fingers, he couldn't help but marvel at how perfectly she fit around him.

"God, you feel incredible," he murmured, his voice thick with desire. "I can't even imagine how good you'll feel wrapped around my cock."

The thought of being buried deep inside her, of feeling her tightness enveloping him completely, sent a shiver of anticipation down his spine.

As Y/n writhed beneath him, lost in a haze of pleasure, her moans filled the room. "Please," she gasped, her voice thick with need. "Fuck me, Spencer. I need you."

Spencer withdrew his fingers from within her, eliciting a soft whimper of protest from Y/n. But before she could voice her longing, he brought his fingers to her parted lips.

"Open," he commanded.

Without hesitation, Y/n obeyed, parting her lips to accept his fingers in to her mouth. With a hunger that mirrored his own, she sucked eagerly, tasting herself on his skin. The raw intensity of the moment sent a thrill coursing through her, igniting a fire of desire that burned hotter with each passing second.

As she eagerly licked and sucked his fingers clean, Spencer's hands moved to the waistband of his pajama pants, his movements urgent and determined. With a quick motion, he undid the strings, discarded his pajama pants and shirt, revealing his throbbing erection that sprang free. Y/n's gaze locked onto his member, her eyes widening with desire as she took in his arousal.

As Spencer lightly stroked himself, his eyes never leaving hers, he whispered, "Imagine how good it will feel inside of you,"

Oh, what a sigth! Her eyebrows furrowed in a plea, and her bottom lip caught between her teeth.

"God, you're so beautiful," he murmured. "I need to be inside you." He positioned himself, aligning his throbbing length with her entrance. With a sense of urgency, she reached behind him, grabbing a handful of his ass, urging him forward as he lowered himself onto her.

With a shared moan, he entered her completely. The sensation of him filling her to the hilt overwhelming their senses.

Spencer began by fucking her slowly, his movements deliberate and passionate, savoring every moment of their intimate connection. As he thrusted into her with a gentle rhythm, he captured her lips in a passionate kiss, seeking to subside her moans of pleasure.

Her hands tangled in the curls at the back of his head, in response Spencer tilted his head back slightly, letting out a throaty moan. "Fuck, Y/n," he groaned. "You're so fucking tight."

"Oh, Spence," she gasped, her breath hitching with pleasure as his movements intensified. "You feel so good, filling me up like this."

"You like that, baby?" Spencer's voice was low and sultry. "You like feeling my cock deep inside you, making you mine?"

"Yes," she moaned. "I want you to take me. I want you to fuck me harder."

Spencer's thrusts grew faster and the bed creaked beneath them, the wooden frame protesting the force of their passion. His right hand gripped her thigh forcefully, his fingers digging into her skin as he sought to anchor himself to her. Meanwhile, the fingers of his left hand found their way to her clit once again, expertly stroking the sensitive nub with each rhythmic movement.

With each thrust, his hips rocked against hers, driving deeper into her. The sensation of him filling her so completely sent waves of pleasure coursing through her body, igniting a fire that burned hotter with each passing moment.

Y/n's hands roamed over his back, her fingers tracing the contours of his muscles as she clung to him for dear life. Her nails dug into his skin with every powerful thrust, leaving crescent-shaped imprints.

"Are you gonna cum for me, pretty girl?" Spencer's voice was low against her ear as he pounded into her, his breath coming in ragged gasps.

"Oh fuck, yes…" she moaned. "God, yes, I want to cum so badly."

"I'm close, too," he admitted, his voice strained with pleasure.

As Y/n's moans intensified, Spencer continued to pound into her with relentless fervor, his movements synchronized with the rhythm of her impending climax. With each thrust, he felt her walls clenching around him, the tightness driving him to the edge of control.

"Please," he pleaded, his voice strained with desperation, "let me cum inside. I need to feel you come undone around me."

With a fervent nod, Y/n surrendered to the overwhelming sensations coursing through her body, her walls clenching around his cock as she reached her orgasm.

The feeling of her tightness milking him was all it took to push Spencer over the edge. With one final thrust, he buried himself deep inside her, his hips grinding against his own release washing over him in powerful waves as they came together.

They stayed there, tangled together, basking in the aftermath of their shared passion. The room was filled with a hazy, contented silence as they caught their breath.

Eventually, Spencer stirred, untangling himself from Y/n's embrace with a reluctant sigh. "I'll grab us a towel," he murmured, slipping out of bed and padding to the bathroom.

Returning moments later, he set to work cleaning them both up, his movements gentle and unhurried. There was a quiet intimacy to the way he wiped away the remnants of their lovemaking, as if each touch carried a silent promise of care and affection.

Once they were both cleaned up, Spencer rejoined Y/n in bed, pulling her close once again as they settled into the warmth of each other's arms.

"Hey, how's your head feeling now?" She asked softly with genuine care.

Spencer looked into her eyes, a grateful smile spreading across his face. "Much better. Thank you for caring about me and for taking care of me."

"I'm glad you came knocking on my door," she replied warmly.

Spencer chuckled, a mischievous glint in his eyes. "Well, you know what else helps to increase blood flow and reduce muscle tension?" He quipped with a playful smirk.

"Now we know what to do next time you have a headache." With a smile, Y/n leaned in and placed a gentle kiss on his lips.

[wolfmoonmusic]

Misunderstandings

Summary: Sirius is yours and you are his. But do you both know that?

Request: Sirius and reader have a kind of an off and on flirtation/situationship thing going and he sees her going on a "date" with Frank Longbottom (personally I had headcanon that Frank was the fifth boy in the dorm along with the Marauders) in reality she's went on a pretend date to help Frank get ready for the real date he's taking her best friend Alice on and so Sirius gets jealous and wants to make things official before he loses her to someone else a little bit of angst with happy ending you know

Requested by: @jessiegerl

Pairing: Sirius Black x reader

Warnings: Readers parents hate her and well we all know how Sirius's Parents are.

w/c: 2.8k+

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~<3

Sirius Black was not used to affection.

It was foreign to him. He never received praise, compliments, or anything positive. Ever.

So when the acquaintances he’d made on the hogwart’s express clapped him on the back after getting into Gryffindor, he didn’t know how to react other than to flinch.

And when you, introduced as James’s honorary sister, sat down that night, you’d complimented his hair.

You’d said “I like your long hair. It suits you.”

His parents hated that hairstyle. 

He’d kept it purely as an act of rebellion. However, now, now he seemed to like it just a bit more. He hadn’t said thank you. Because he hadn’t known he was supposed to. So he’d just nodded, and you’d grinned.

That grin changed everything. You changed everything.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“What if we make polyjuice potion, and I disguise myself as Narcissa, lead Lucius on for a bit and then prank him?” you asked, playing with the quill in your hands. 

Remus groaned, “We’re still on this?” he asked, throwing his head back in disbelief.

“N/n, Remmy is right, we pranked Lucius only the day before yesterday,” Sirius nodded. You raised an eyebrow at him knowing he was never one to back down from a prank on any Slytherin.

And you were right. He wanted to do it. But if that meant Lucius got a chance to be near you even in a slightly romantic way, he would hurl.

And possibly punch him.

“Oh c’monnn Siri,” you whined, putting on your best pleading face and puppy eyes.

Damn those puppy eyes.

Sirius just shook his head, ignoring the way his heart was racing at your look. He watched as you pouted, leaning back on to the couch, head resting on James’s shoulder. “James, help me out here,” you said, folding your arms as you waited expectantly.

But James was too busy staring at a certain redhead and you, still staring at Sirius, nudged James in the chest.

“Huh? What?”

Sirius burst out laughing at the way your face twisted in pure irritation, the other two boys joining in as you hit James repeatedly with a pillow.

“Ow ow! I’m sorry, I'm sorry!” James laughed as you continued your assault fighting the grin that was creeping up on your face.

“Fuck you Potter!” you laughed, as James tried to correct his hair, you stopping him and messing it up further.

Sirius watched the exchange between you both, a sick feeling crawling up his chest. He knew that you both were no more than honorary siblings and it would always be that way, but deep down he wished you were sitting next to him, doing all that silly stuff with him.

He immediately brushed it off, not one to allow feelings to linger for long, replacing his hardened stare with a smirk instead, watching you and James continue to fight like kids, admiring the bright smile on your face.

He wished that that smile would never go away.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Black, if you could be any animal in the world which was not a dog, which by the way I still don’t understand why that’s your favorite animal, which would you choose?” you asked, mindlessly hooking your hand with his as you both walked to class in 4th year.

He ignored the burst of feelings that erupted in him, trying to focus on your question and not on the way your hand felt against his, clinging on as you pranced lightly. “Uhh, I don’t know” he muttered, his brain fogging up as he refrained himself from staring at your linked hands. You hummed, breaking away from him as James and Remus came into view outside the class.

He paused for a few seconds trying to calm down his erratic heart before shaking his head and entering the class. 

You waved him down, patting the seat next you, and the second he sat down, you grabbed his arm, sticking your tongue out at a slytherin girl eyeing you both with pure jealousy written all over her face.

Sirius laughed, “What’s that all about?”

“She likes you,” you pouted, “and asked me, ME to set you both up!” you pointed to yourself in disbelief.

“She looks cute,” Sirius said, winking at the girl. 

You gasped at the way the girl blushed in response. “She’s a slytherin!” you exclaimed, swatting his shoulder. 

Sirius shrugged, “Good point, guess I’ll have to find someone else then.”

“No way! You’re mine” you said seriously, jabbing a finger at his chest. 

His heart erupted, eyes widening. But he played it off quickly, leaning over to whisper in your ear. “You wish sweetheart.” 

Your face turned pink, eyes widening. Luckily the professor walked in, not allowing Sirius to dwell on your reaction.

Merlin, he was done for.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

You were always a naturally happy person. The boys had never seen you cry, even though they’d all had their breakdown moments. You’d been their rock through everything. 

However, when 5th year started, you’d changed. You opted out of pranks, studying almost all the time and the usual spark in your eyes had faded. James seemed to know what had happened but he refused to let the others know, telling them it was up to you to reveal it to them. 

He was worried about you, Sirius could tell, and that made the long-haired boy worry even more. 

He’d tried to get you to talk to him, but you’d refused.

Until one day you’d shown up to Charms, puffy-eyed and asked Sirius to meet you in the Astronomy tower after his classes were done for the day. 

He’d waited anxiously, and as soon as his classes finished, he ran to find you.

You were standing right where you’d said you’d be, gazing up at the sky. You turned when you saw him, a small smile forming on your lips. But the boy noticed the way it seemed to require so much effort from you, which was never the case before.

You turned away again, wordlessly staring at the sky. He wanted to demand an explanation, no longer able to watch you like this.

“Y/N-”

“I’ve never stopped to think,” you started softly, still staring above. Sirius stepped closer to you, waiting patiently for you to continue.

You took a deep breath before turning to face him. 

“I’ve never let myself stop doing things or take a break because then all the thoughts flood the gates and I feel like I’m going to drown. But-” your eyes glazed over as you took a shuddering breath, looking down at your feet.

Sirius grabbed your shaking hands with one of his own, using the other to lift your chin up so that you could look at him. 

“I’m listening,” he whispered.

You bit down on your lip before starting again, “But this summer was bad Siri- they- they said the worst things and-” you couldn’t finish as a sob wracked through your body. 

Sirius pulled you to him, wrapping an arm around your shoulders and another lightly around your head as if trying to shield you.

He knew about the situation with your parents. They were almost never at home, and whenever they were, they made it very clear that they hadn’t wanted children in the first place. That’s why you spent most of your time at the Potter’s. 

It’s also why you understood his situation so well.

You pulled away, wiping your tears away as you looked at Sirius. “Euphemia says she won’t let me go back this time even if they ask,” you laughed slightly remembering the possessiveness that had come over the older Potter. 

Sirius smiled, “Good.”

“Thanks Siri,” you nodded, and Sirius beamed at the real smile that made its way to your face. 

“Anytime princess. But don’t get too comfortable, other girls will get jealous.”

You gasped, playfully punching him on his shoulder, “I better be your one and only Black!” you laughed, and he joined in, hiding the way that sentence struck his heart.

Little did you know.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

When Sirius found himself knocking on the door of the Potter’s house, he didn’t expect for you to open it.

Shit. He’d forgotten you stayed there now.

But he couldn’t back away. He didn’t have the energy, nor did he think you would let him, at the way you gasped in horror as you looked at him.

He mustered all his strength into a cheeky “Hi” before James appeared behind you, giving the same reaction you had seconds before. You stood there in shock, hands over your mouth and eyes watering at the sight of the boy in front of you.

Sirius gave up on trying to fake it, giving in as you and James pulled him inside the house. 

“James, get your mom,” you ordered. The boy hesitated as you guided Sirius to the sofa, before you turned and glared at him and he ran off. 

Your eyes scanned the boy, a sort of resolve taking you over as you kneeled down in front of him. Sirius was fighting to keep consciousness and he didn’t know how much longer he could hold it for.

“Sirius,” you called gently, placing a hand on his knee, slowly and carefully. “What happened?” you asked. 

Sirius didn’t want to relive what his mother had done to him, trying desperately to push it all away, trying to drown himself in your presence. But he knew you’d need an explanation if you were to help him get rid of the immense pain he was feeling right now.

“Cruciatus,” he whispered, noticing the horror and anger that made its way to your face, but also noticing the way the gentleness of your touch hadn’t changed.

“Can’t go back. Ever.” he muttered, and you were quick to adjust yourself so that he could look you in the eyes. “You won’t ever be going back. Even if Euphemia can’t keep us all here, you and I will find another place. But Black,” you placed a careful hand on his cheek and he leaned into it, “You are never. Ever. Going back there.” The seriousness in your voice gave Sirius enough strength to whisper a “Thank you” before partially fading out of consciousness again, comforted by the fact that you were here, and for once in his life feeling that things would be okay.

He could vaguely make out Euphemia and Fleamont’s reaction to seeing him nearly passed out on the couch, and your hurried explanation of whatever you’d understood from what he’d said. Euphemia walked up to him moments later with a some medicine in hand, something about opening his mouth, gulping, and about helping him sleep and doctors and the next day at sunrise. He couldn’t process it, just doing what he was told. 

James and you then carefully lifted him, carrying him to a room and gently placing him on a bed. 

He could hear you and James both talking in hushed whispers, but he was unable to make out what you were saying, as he fell into a disturbed sleep.

He woke up in the middle of night once, sweating and terrified, haunted by what he’d seen in his nightmare. But before he could properly react and realize where he was, you got up from beside him. 

He couldn’t breathe, and tears were streaming down his face. He could see you move to sit in front of him and your lips moving but he couldn’t make out what you were saying. 

You then gently placed your hands on his face and surprisingly it helped. 

It grounded him, reminded him that he was with you and not with his monstrous parents.

Your voice started to fade back in and he could hear you telling him to breathe, and so he did, thankful that you were there to help him.

Of all the Marauders, he felt the safest with you. 

“I’m okay,” he whispered once his breathing was back in his control. You nodded, sighing softly.

“Thank you,” he muttered, looking up at your tired eyes, “and I’m sorry I woke you up.”

“It’s fine,” you shrugged, “I hadn't slept. I was too worried.” You said, moving to sit against the headboard of the bed.

“Sorry for that then,” Sirius said lying back down. 

You stared at him for a few minutes before running a hand through his hair, massaging his scalp softly.

“It’s not your fault Sirius, don’t apologize.”

Sirius didn’t respond, trying to focus on you, and on where he was, rather than the memories that were flooding his brain.

You laid down next to him, and Sirius realized that he was infact in your room, and as he turned to apologize once again, you placed a finger on his lips.

“If you apologize for intruding or something like that again, I will make you sleep on the couch.” you threatened your voice laced with humor.

Sirius smiled at you slightly, and you pulled him close to you, allowing him to tuck his face under your chin as you wrapped your hands and legs around him. He was glad you did so, it made him feel safe, and as if you’d heard his thoughts, you whispered into his ear “You’re safe with me Black. You’re mine, and I’ll keep you safe”

He wished he really was yours.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Sirius couldn’t find you anywhere. And what worried him more was that he couldn’t find Frank anywhere either. 

Why did that matter?

Well as you and Sirius had gotten closer and flirtier, you and Frank had gotten closer too. After the fiasco that took place over the summer, you’d spent more time with the boys in their dorm room and naturally that meant you were hanging out with their roommate Frank Longbottom as well. 

And now Sirius was worried that you’d thought his flirting was just him being Sirius and that he had no actual feelings for you.

If you really did think that and if you’d decided to hang out with Frank instead, Sirius had no idea what he would do. 

He’d searched every nook and corner of Hogwarts and now the only other place he could think of was Hogsmeade. 

Oh Merlin he hoped it wasn’t Hogsmeade.

Sirius snuck out of the school during study hours, making his way to Hogsmeade, anxiety filling him.

As he made his way through hogsmeade, his heart dropped when he saw your familiar figure next to Frank’s. 

Your head was thrown back in laughter, and Frank was grinning. “You did great! I’m sure next time will be just as smooth,” you said, patting him on the shoulder.

Next time?

Fear creeped up on Sirius.

He couldn’t lose you to Frank. 

He couldn’t lose you to anyone.

He ran up to you and Frank, seeing both of your faces twist in confusion.

“Sirius?”

“You can’t date him!” Sirius exclaimed, pointing to Frank. 

“What?” you and Frank both said at once, before realization crossed your features and a small smile formed on your lips. 

But Sirius was too anxious and worried to register it, only glaring at Frank.

“Frank, what about you go back, and I’ll figure out what Sirius wants,” Frank nodded at your suggestion and walked off, patting Sirius on the back once.

“Why can’t I date Frank?” you asked, looking at Sirius who was still glaring at the boy who’d just walked away.

He spun around to look at you, surprise all over his face. Anyone could see you struggling to hide your smile and maintain a serious expression on your face, but Sirius was blinded.

“Because- ‘Cause-” Sirius faltered, what he was about to do, dawning on him. He hadn’t wanted to confess to you like this.

“Because?” you asked, raising an eyebrow and crossing your arms in front of your chest.

“Because I like you,” he rushed out, scared he would think twice and miss this chance. And the slight tinge of pink in your cheeks gave him confidence. 

“Actually no, I don’t like you, I love you. I’m head over heels for you and I cannot imagine not being with you, at all. I want - no need you to be mine”

You grinned, “Black finally confesses! And you really think I would have gone out with Frank when I have feelings for you? He wanted me to help him get ready for the actual date he’s taking Alice on, since she’s my close friend.” 

Sirius heard nothing except - “You have feelings for me?”

You laughed, linking your hand with his, “I thought it was obvious!”

He turned you around, looking at you, “You really like me?”

You shook your head, laughing lightly, before leaning up to place your lips against his.

His hand moved to your waist, pulling you in, as your hands wrapped around his neck, fingers entangling in his hair.

You both pulled away a few moments later, gasping for air. 

“I’ve been yours since the first day I saw you,” you whispered, eyes locked on his.

“I love you,” he whispered.

“I love you too. But I think I love your hair more.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Taglists: @pinchofhoney @targaryenmoony

[dcxdpdabbles]

DCXDP FIC IDEA: The Dauntless Matchmaker

Danny Fenton is short on cash. He has been short on cash almost all his adult life, but usually, he can pull through untill the last minute before breaking and asking his family for help.

It's a pain in a half trying to find a job that is flexible enough to accommodate his "Health" issues.

He needs time off to keep his agreement. See back when he was sixteen, he realized that the ghosts that had been bothering him were all trying to challenge him for his power.

At first he looked like easy prey- being new and all- but the more fights he won the more his reputation rose and that made the ghosts attack less frequently.

They just became harder since the big guns wanted a crack at him. Danny proposed that the fights be in neutral grounds- the ghost zone- since fights in Amity Park were ruining his haunt.

Haunt Rights were highly protected and respected in the Infinite Releams.

His adversaries agreed under the condition that Danny responded to the battles within two hours; otherwise, they would haunt him in the human world.

Ghost fighting in the Infinite Releams to keep the ghosts busy, and nowadays, only the strongest bothered him like a bi-weekly challenge from dead beings that don't understand scheduling.

It worked out.....until he couldn't explain why he was missing so often in the human world. With the help of some friendly ghosts, he was able to fake a diagnosis of some muscle disorder and has been living with the excuse that he would go MIA because of it. He missed a lot.

Often enough to have almost every job he's gotten to fire him.

This brings him to his current problem. Yes, Danny can argue that he has a disability but to do so would mean having someone look into it and realize it's not real.

So when Charlie from the Tea MadHouse tells him not to bother returning tomorrow after a four-day-long battle, he can only sigh and turn in his tea maker apron.

He might have to call his parents to ask for help on this month's rent. That's a bitter pill to swallow.

If only there was a job that he could do that had no problem with him taking multiple days off without notice.

"Pardon me. I need a moment of your time." a voice calls out. Danny twists around, turning his neck slightly downwards to meet the green-eyed stare of a young boy.

"I have a proposition for you. My elder brother requires a fake lover to fool our family butler into thinking that he has moved on from the heartbreak of his last disastrous relationship. Not that anyone could blame Dowd for ending things with Drake. In any case, seeing as I have witnessed your unemployment, I figured you would do well for the job."

Danny blinks "I'm sorry?"

The kid pulls out a wad of cash. Danny can practically hear the ca-ching sound surrounding the boy as he raises a brow.

He gapes as the youth slaps the cash into his hand without so much as a blink.

"Do we have an accord?" The boy asks while Danny slowly turns the money in his hand.

"Whatever you say, temporary in-law," He says after flipping through the bills only to realize it's a hundred-dollars. A quick count of how many he's been handed causes his eyes to almost pop out of thier socket.

It's more then enough for this month's rent-hell he has some left over for at least four months!

"Excellent, we are expected at dinner. If Drake acts surprised to see you merely tap the table six times, then four. He shall fall into line and build off our lie."

Danny scrambles after the kid, nodding to himself. "Six, then four. Got it. Ugh, does the dinner have a dress code?"

It sounds like it would since a young boy just gave out hundreds like it was nothing. Danny would feel bad showing up in an old pair of jeans and a faded t-shirt.

Maybe he has a formal shirt somewhere.

The boy's green eyes flickered to him, then his watch on his wrist. "An impressive observation. Pennyworth will not be impressed by a poorly dressed paramour. We have time to purchase a suit. Come along."

Danny has no idea how someone so small can walk so fast. He feels his breathing is coming in quick bursts, but the boy doesn't seem winded at all. He winces when the boy enters a well-known suit place that is very pricey. "Is this coming out of my pay?"

"No. This shall be covered by the company card," The strange child says, holding up a black card with a quick flick of his wrist. At the sight of it, two store attendants appear at their side, offering assistance. Danny has never seen such power.

"W-wait we have a company card?" He shutters, overwhelmed by the attendant pushing him into a changing room and a light blue suit in his arms.

"Yes. However, you have a limit on what can be spent with it. I shall review the details later regarding your medical, dental, and vision benefits."

"I GET DENTAL?!"

"Of course. America's ridiculous health programs will mistreat no employee of mine simply due to lack of funds. " The boy scoffed, sounding offended by the very idea.

Danny doesn't care how long he needs to pretend to be this boy's boyfriend, and he'll sign a contract right now.

_______________________________________

Damian waited for Fenton to finish trying on all the suits the personal sellers had pushed onto him. He personally thinks the light blue was the best but it doesn't hurt to try other options.

They need Fenton to look his best to woo Drake and get him to stop acting so pathetic.

Yes, Dowd had broken up with him for reasons Damian is unaware of, nor does he care enough to find them, but Drake has had plenty of people break up with him before and remain on good terms with him.

Just look at Brown.

Drake had also always bounced right back after the breakup, usually because he would get tied up in either work at Wayne Industries or Red Robin.

Yet, for some reason, unlike all the others, Dowd leaving has not only been messy it also threw Drake into a downwards spiral.

He has refused even to get dress- walking around in a bathrobe and fluffy slippers- eating ice cream and sobbing over photos of Dowd for hours on end. He taken a leave from Wayne Industries and mostly stayed on monitor duty as Red Robin.

At other times, he plays sad songs and watches romance movies with a dead look in his eyes. Usually there were crumbs of some unknown spicy chips all over his face too.

Really it was unseemly.

It's been four months of this, and Drake does not seem to be getting it together. Damian had researched online, and all of the articles indicate that he should have felt better by the third-month mark.

He would have left the fool well alone only Pennyworth is beginning to worry. And Damian refuses to let Pennyworth worry over something fixable.

His research showed that a "rebound" was highly recommended (if done correctly), in the healing process of a breakup. Drake refused to find one, so Damian assigned himself the task of finding one for him instead.

He considered Drake's past lovers' looks, interests, and personalities. Then creating a list of what was considered a good candidate he wandered around Gotham in search of someone who would be a perfect rebound.

His efforts led him to Tea MadHouse- a tea shop with a surprisingly good coffee menu- where Daniel Fenton worked. Over three weeks, Damian had watched him, categorizing the pros and cons that Drake would find within Fenton, and concluded that he would be perfect.

The fact Fenton has lost his job now only worked in his favor. He'll convince Drake that Fenton is a decoy for Pennyworth - since Drake was getting fed up with all the hovering- and he would never notice that the real target of this fake relationship would be Drake himself all along.

Fenton will woo him, sweep him off his feet, make him forget Dowd and ride off into the sunset with Drake none the wiser. It was full-proof.

Damian will make Drake rebound on Fenton, even if he has to throw the idiot at the other teen. He is getting awful tired of the concerned glances whenever Drake slumps his way into a room.

No other reason. He certainly didn't care about Drake that much nor did does he lay awake at night wondering how Drake is doing now that he does not have someone to hold him.

Drake doesn't sleep well alone.

"How do I look?" Fenton stepped out of the booth wearing the light blue suit. It made his eyes pop and framed his body well.

Yes, muscular. The body of a boxer. Drake will lose his mind over those biceps.

"Ravishing." He tells the nineteen-year-old. Damian barely bites back a smirk as Fenton flushed, painting a pretty picture. Drake enjoys talking his lovers up, and Fenton will do well to receive plenty of compliments. "Let us be off."

Drake won't know what hit him.

[love-bitesx]

I loveeeedd the last story Tysm ❤️❤️❤️ Keep up the amazing work 🌈

I have another request

Hobie x fem spider reader

Reader has a weird stalker ex-bf, and the reader tries to keep it a secret from Hobie but he finds out and deals with the ex.

: ̗̀➛ STALKER. hobie brown x fem!reader

any criminal minds fans out there … i hope u see the parallels of my baby spencer also i'm so sorry, i didn't see until after i wrote this entire thing that you said 'fem spider reader' so it's a fem normal reader, so sorry! i hope it's still okay, tho!! thank u sm for ur support angel !! summary: hobie & y/n have been doing long distance for months, but she never told him exactly why. words: 2.8k (the words just kept coming, sorry its so long lmao) warnings: fem!reader, pronouns not really used but "my girl", "lady", etc. are, read at your own risk! weird stalker bf, creepy fella, hobie n y/n are long distance, very very soft hobie

“when can i call you next, darlin’?” hobie’s voice was laced with longing, bass distorted by static at the other end of the phone.

“if you’re quick, we can call tomorrow after 5,” you smiled, and if you were in an 80’s romcom, you’d be twisting the phone cord between your fingers.

“5pm it is, don’t be late,” you can hear his smirk, and a bolt of guilt strikes your chest.

“look, i need to ask something, and i think i already know the answer,” hobie speaks, and you bite your lip in anticipation, “the band and i are playing at a new venue tomorrow, it’s the biggest we’ve played, we’re all dead excited, and…”

a sigh.

“well, it won’t feel the same without you there, pretty.”

if the first bolt wasn’t enough, then the second one lived up to it, striking you into the dead center of your heart. it had been well over 6 months since you met hobie. well, “met”. you’d accidentally called the wrong number one day, meaning to contact a friend of a friend, but typing the last number wrong. picking up at the other end was a deep, almost mesmerising voice, telling you; “no bother, darlin’. it happens, just make sure not to lose this number, wanna hear more from ya.”

“hobie, you know i can’t,” your voice is brimming with remorse and you look to the ground.

“i know, shit with your parents, i get it," he tried hard to hide the disappointment, but his heart twanged with neglect and it creeped through into his words.

parents. strict, all-demanding 'parents'. that's what you told hobie when you first started dating, that the reason you aren't able to see him was because your mother was overbearing and extremely protective – it was a lie. a lie that was eating you up from the inside out. the truth was slightly more grim, however.

years ago, you got involved with a guy at work. a couple brief conversations turned into dates, and dates turned into anniversaries, anniversaries turned into toxic, violent arguments and after a long time of dating, you broke up with him. to say he took it badly, was a criminal understatement. threatening phone calls, showing up at your work, sending you gifts and menacing letters – his signature move was scaring off, and even once harming, any man or potential love interest that you interacted with. it was exhausting, and terrifying.

and hobie was different. he was sweet and kind, but rough around the edges, and his voice dripped in passion no matter the topic of conversation. his promises were never empty, and most importantly – he loved you. and you loved him. the last thing you wanted, was your ex to pop up and scare him off, so you kept it from him. limiting your relationship to phone calls at arranged times incase your ex was keeping tabs.

“i’m sorry, hobie,” is all you could muster, not even scratching the tip of the catastrophic iceberg that wedged the back of your throat.

“it’s okay, darlin’, don’t worry that pretty little head over it,” and just like every phone call, you melted into his words, “i love you, yeah? i’ll call you tomorrow at 5.”

“i’ll be waiting,” you smiled, cheeks flushed at his gentle affirmations, “i love you.”

with a ruckus of movement, and what sounded like a kiss, the call ended, and you stared at the screen silently for a moment. not much longer could you avoid it, and the malten bubble of dread spilled into your gut.

sending him a quick text:

‘good luck tomorrow, handsome. what’s the venue called again? you’ll do amazing x’

you turned off your phone, discarding it on the bed as you climbed into the hole of guilt you’d dug yourself.

“oi, you ready, blud?” hobie’s band mate yelled above the bustle and cheers from the crowd before them. large, bejewelled hands poised onto his guitar strings, he smirked.

“always.”

with a nod to the roadie, the lights went up, illuminating the stage and instruments, hobie's glowing with a harsh red tint. immediately, his sepia eyes digested the crowd. seeing the flushed, excitable faces staring back at him sent a shot of confidence to his bones, and they moved, strumming the guitar with such vigor that the stage floor shook beneath his feet. cheers erupted, and yet felt oddly empty. it was missing something, and he knew what it was immediately.

he'd truly give his all to have you there, front stage in his eyeline, screaming his songs like gospel. not that he'd ever seen you properly, only seeing teasing selfies you'd sent him over the months you'd been together. he didn't care, inherently, he'd fallen head over heels for your personality; a pretty face was only just a bonus.

however, he did yearn for your touch. to feel his hands in your hair, to kiss your cheek, your nose, your neck. he longed to have you with him, even just doing stupid little tasks, having you by his side through the domestic side of life.

his gall spurred him on, his passion surging through his fingertips, spilling out into the sound waves. the audience were lapping it up, screams and chants only barely audible under the booming power of their set. song, after song, after song his talented blood seeped out onto the strings, and his feet were almost numb from the vibration of the bass.

the final song arrived, and his chest was burning, vision blurry, heart pounding against his chest – and he loved it. it was their biggest crowd, their most excitable achievement so far, and his blood pumped with adrenaline as he finished off the set, falling to his knees as he strum his guitar with one final chord. lights falling, his chest was heaving and his eyes scanned the audience one final time – you weren’t there. he had to accept that.

“that was fuckin’ sick, blud!” his bassist yelled as they exited the stage, palm slapping hobie’s shoulder blade and elicited a wide, ecstatic grin.

“you smashed it, mate,” hobie shouted back over the booming stereo that took their place.

“nah, man, you stole the show,” his bassist shook his head, patting him again in appreciation, “good that your lady’s here to see it, too, she must be proud.”

“i wish, mate,” he sighed.

“did you not see her?” his ears perked up, and at his confused expression, his bandmate continued, “over at the back, by the bar, i didn’t know what she looked like, but she was asking after you. ‘er story adds up.”

"shit," he mutters, feet solid on the ground. his heart pounds, skeptical of your presence, but chest bursting with hope that it just might be you, "look, bro, i need to–"

"go! go, man, go see her," his bandmate pushes him in the direction of the bar, and he almost stumbles over his own feet to push the stage door open, met with the chaos of the crowded bar.

dark eyes scanning the aimless faces, he searched for anyone who could look like you; his stature brought him above everyone else, only by a little, but gave him an advantage to seek you out.

"sorry, i need to get past," he repeated, over and over to unassuming bodies, setting through the chaos to find his peace. pushing out at the back, a wave of light met him, shining through empty pint glasses and illuminating the bar.

there you were.

standing quietly, head nodding along to the blasting instrumentals, drink in hand; you were heart-stopping. and he was pretty sure his did. even if he’d never seen you face-to-face, he’d memorised the soft plump of your lips, alluring light in your eyes, even the way your hair fell against your skin from the photos he'd seen. there was no doubt it was you, and my god, you were beautiful. he couldn’t even stop his legs if he tried, as they carried him over to you.

"y/n?" his voice barely travelled through the sound waves, but it hit your ear like a familiar embrace.

turning to him, eyes wide and bright in the twinkling of the bar lights. you drunk him in, warm eyes swallowing every part of him. you'd seen pictures, again, but it could never compare to him. dark brown skin, soft to its complexion, hugged his bones in every perfect way; folding at the creases of his handsome face. he was tall, very tall, and the detail of the curves and indents of his muscles, altered by the shadows of the dim bar light, made your head fuzzy. god, he was beautiful – nothing that a digital screen could ever portray with justice.

"hobie," your voice was crisper than he was used to, and he would bottle it if he could, "hey, handsome, you got a–"

"come 'ere," he interrupted, essentially scooping you into his tense embrace, melting into your scent, the feel of you in his arms. his heart was pounding against his chest. you wrapped yourself around him, running your hands along his leather jacket, ghosting the skin below it.

"you interrupted my introduction," you pouted against his shoulder, "had a whole little joke planned and everything, you know."

"go on, hit me, love," he pulled back a tiny bit, his arms still glued around your waist, looking down through his lashes. you faltered under his intense gaze, giddy smile bursting onto your face and you buried your head in his chest.

"nuh uh, not anymore," you shook your head against him, "you ruined it."

his hand came up to touch your face whilst you spoke, following the edge of your hairline and tucking your hair around your shoulder. he was in awe, having you here, having you with him. tightening his embrace, he didn't want to let you go – ever.

"mhmm," his voice vibrated his chest, and you pulled away, "i'm sure it was hilarious, love."

"it really was," you chuckled, giddy in his presence.

the air grew thicker, your laughter dying out and left with just his strong gaze, his dark brown eyes following yours. you could barely comprehend him being here, in front of you, around you, and he was so much more than you had imagined. feeling his calloused hand caress your cheek, you leaned into his touch, inviting him into your world. cupping your face, hobie bought himself to you, leaning down until his pierced lips were ghosting your own. months he'd dreamed of this, imagined how it would feel to kiss his girl, to taste your lips and feel your love. he could feel your breath, and you were about to give in, until you pulled away.

"wait, i–" you swallowed thickly, pulling your touch from him.

"what's up, darlin'?" his eyes scanned your face for any sign of reason, "did i do somethin'?"

"no! no, you," you sighed, "you're perfect, it's not you."

he'd be lying through his teeth if he denied the pit of anxiety building deep in his stomach, bubbling up his throat.

"what is it?"

"i–" you stuttered again, and fought to get your words out of your brain and into the thick air of the bar, "i haven't been telling you the truth."

silence. just for a second. hobie's brain working over time.

"look, if you've got another fella, or somethin', just get it over with–"

"no! no, hobie, i'm yours, i promise," your words settled him for a second.

"my parents don't care about us, they aren't strict, in fact, they were happy when i told them about you," you begun, opening the dam.

"they know about me?" his voice was smaller than you were used to, and if your brain had a spare synapse to process it, you'd probably have melted.

"yes, and i'm sorry i haven't told you," you avoided his eyes, "it's my ex."

"oh, fuckin' 'ell," he sighed, dropping his arms to his side, and he's about to speak, until you interrupt.

"we broke up years ago, but he's never left me alone," you ring your wrists with your hands nervously, and hobie notices – you looked terrified, "i've tried everything; i've tried the police, i've moved countless times, i've changed jobs, made new friends, met new people – he won't leave me be."

tears welled up now, and his heart reached for you, but his arms stayed stuck by his side.

"every guy that i meet, he's, i don't know, calling them telling them i'm someone i'm not, or following them home and slashing tires, or roughing them up outside pubs," paranoia enveloped you, and your eyes darting around the crowd, "i was so scared, because you're the best i've ever had, and probably will ever have, and i don't want him to scare you off."

"y/n–"

"and i understand if this has done exactly what i'm scared of, because i get that keeping it from you was awful, but i was only trying to protect you and–"

his lips cut you off, warm against your own, capturing your words and pushing them back down your throat. hands on your cheeks, body flush against your own, you melted into him completely. it felt like heaven, like months of tension and longing unravelling like ribbon into the wind. it was safe, gentle, like a promise – a promise that it didn't scare him, and that he was yours.

"is he here?" his voice was low, lips hovering yours.

"i-i don't know," you were flustered, your brain trying to make sense of it all, but his hand on the small of your back stopped any cognitive thoughts, "i haven't seen him."

watching him, hobie's dark eyes floated around the crowd, before falling back onto you. smirk on his lips, he placed a quick peck onto your cheek.

"hmm, i hope he enjoyed the show," he chuckled lowly, and you couldn't help but mimic it, relief flooding off your shoulders, "how about we go somewhere a bit safer?"

"like where?" you questioned, intrigued by the coaxing tone of his voice.

"well, i only live around the corner," he shrugged, before offering his hand. blushing, you slipped your hand into his, the soft skin of his fingers pulling you towards him, until he threw his arm around your shoulder.

"nothing could scare me off, you know," he whispered, placing a kiss to your hair, "i'm 'ard as nails."

"oh yeah?" you giggled.

"mhmm."

clothed eyes glued to the suspicious figure, hobie stood on a rooftop, footsteps silent as he follows the man below. tailing him through the cobbled back lanes of london, hobie's back tingled with apprehension – he'd been following him for at least a mile, waiting for a perfect opportunity.

and he'd finally found it.

pausing his heavy stroll, the man dug into his pockets and pulled out a slightly crushed pack of cigarettes, fumbling further for a lighter. a small orange glow lit up the air around him as he puffed away, smoke fluttering to meet hobie's nose.

silently, hobie swung to a platform below, pulling his guitar tighter against his back and dropped to the hard ground. the sound of his leather boots colliding with the cobble made the man turn in his direction, eyes wide at the sight.

"spiderman?" the man breathed between puffs, voice hoarse, "can i help you?"

"you know what, i think you can," hobie strutted, hands stuffed into his leather jacket, lanky stance towering him, "are you y/n's ex fella?"

"who's asking?" he questioned stupidly, and hobie let out a laugh.

"bruv, who's– are you stupid or somethin'?" hobie punched him lightly in the shoulder, "do you not see the whole get up?"

"the fuck have you got to do with y/n?" he spat, defensive stance taking over his body.

"none of your business," hobie knew that would sting, "but you're gonna leave her alone, fella."

"you don't know what you're talking about."

"i'm not askin', mate," hobie stepped closer, "and i'm not givin' you a choice."

before he could even utter a response, hobie had swung his spike-studded arm in his direction, knuckles colliding against the pathetic man's jaw, knocking him to the ground below.

"tha's my girl you're messin' with now."

[evie-sturns]

𝘔𝘰𝘰𝘥 - 𝘊𝘩𝘳𝘪𝘴 𝘚𝘵𝘶𝘳𝘯𝘪𝘰𝘭𝘰

summary: you're in the mood, chris isn't, just because hes not in the mood doesnt mean you can't get off by yourself, right?

warnings: smut, fem!masturbation, use of vibrator, teasing.

------------————-≪•◦ ❈◦•≫-----------------———

the heat between my thighs is growing as i lay next to chris. hes scrolling aimlessly on his phone, the way his hand is gripping it, his hair resting on his forehead as the dim light from his phone illuminates his blue eyes in the pitch black room.

god.

i squirm slightly in bed, as i let out a soft whimper.

"you okay?" chris asks, his voice raspy and deep.

"chris..?" i mumble, sitting up in bed.

"mhm?" he says, sitting up aswell.

i pull back the covers slightly, just so chris's clothed lap is uncovered, i place my palm on his bulge, rubbing softly through his sweatpants. "stop please." he whispers, grabbing my wrist lightly and placing it back on my lap.

i look down at my hand, resting on my lap. my cheeks flush from embarrassment, chris flicks on the small lamp on the bedside table. "i'm sorry baby, not in the mood today, i'm really tired." chris says rubbing my back in circles

“please chris.. i need you.” i whine.

“y/n, i have a busy day tommorow, i need to go to sleep. i’m sorry, but i’m not doing this today.”

i nod, "it's fine." i say, climbing over chris's legs out of bed.

chris's eyes follow me as i walk over to our closet, rummaging through it before pulling out a small pink vibrator. i hold it in my hand, attempting to hide it.

without another word i pull my shirt off over my head, throwing it in the closet, my shorts and panties follow.

"sweetheart, i told you, not today." he mumbles as i climb back into bed.

"i know, just cause you're not in the mood, doesn't mean i'm not." i say, turning on the vibrator, the hum of it fills the room as his head snaps to my direction. "oh fuck." he groans, barely audible.

i turn the vibrator up to a higher setting, before pressing it against my clit. a shaky moan exits my mouth as i grip the mattress in-between me and chris.

he's staring shamelessly, repositioning himself.

my moans intensify as i twist on the bed. "good girl." he says, reaching a hand over and running it through my hair. "oh my god." i whimper as he grabs my hand which is gripping the matress. he holds my hand.

"such pretty noises, turn it up for me." he says referring to the toy. i keep it on the same setting, already overstimulated. "don't make me repeat myself." he says, his voice hoarse.

i nod with a little moan, clicking the button on the vibrator, turning it up to the highest setting. chris praises me as i squeeze his hand until my knuckles grow white.

he takes his hand out of my silky hair, before reaching between my legs and grabbing the vibrator from me, pressing it harsher against my clit.

'i cant!-" i grip his wrist which is holding the vibrator as i squeeze my eyes shut. my orgasm hits me as my legs shake frantically. i pant, trying to catch my breath but chris holds the vibrator still against my clit.

"too much!!" i say on the verge of tears. "too much!" i repeat, pulling his arm away from me.

he turns it off before sitting up on the bed, his back resting against the headboard. he pulls me up onto his lap, cradling me as he grips my thighs, trying to stop the shaking. "you alright?" he says quietly, trying not to provoke me. "i think so.."

after a few minutes of him kissing my forehead and praising me, i feel a hard bulge pressing against my hip.

"chris.." i mumble.

"wait what?" he says, acting clueless.

"i thought ya weren't turned on?" i say innocently.

------------————-≪•◦ ❈◦•≫-----------------———

this was such a good req fr

i fucking love chase atlantic i cant

[bi-writes]

bestfriend!roommate!simon helps you get dressed for a night out because i love when men kneel

cw: nsfw content (18+), suggestive language and content, mature language and content, kisses through the mask, size kink, praise kink, a little oral (fem!receiving), a little suggestive touching (fem!receiving), simon likes thicc thighs, simon "my girl doesnt lift a finger because i worship her" riley

more bestfriend!roommate!simon

you haven't gone out in a long time. you were stuck working overnight shifts at the diner for extra money, busy every time you got a friendly text or a sweet call asking if you'd like to join your friends.

you hadn't told simon yet. you hadn't told him you were leaving tonight, but more worriedly, you hadn't told him you were struggling paying the bills. you scraped by the edges of your teeth last month to give him your half, and you remember looking at the cash in your wallet afterwards and wanting to vomit.

it was embarrassing. the landlord just kept urging you both for more, and while simon was always able to negotiate the raise every few months (one look at simon, and he always lowered his number), you were finding it difficult to keep up.

simon was successful. he was a decorated lieutenant, and he had many powerful friends. he never indulged in showing off his wealth; he wasn't raised with money, neither were you, and it was more than he knew what to do with. you remembered walking past him one night as he paid off a credit card on his laptop. you gagged when you saw the number in his account, the commas in the number.

why the fuck was in this piece of shit place with you when he could buy a house on a pebbled beach somewhere?

the dress was not cooperating. it had many straps that came in at the back, and they were twisted and crooked, looped around the corset back and making you a little frustrated. you sighed deeply before making your way across the hall, knocking gently on the bedroom across from you.

"simon?" there was no answer. "simon, i...could you help me for a second?"

the door opened a few moments later. a surgical mask was fit over his nose and mouth, a beanie over his head to cover the rest of him. you turned around in front of him, looking over your shoulder.

"i need help. it's all a mess, i can feel it."

his dark eyes flickered down to the back of your dress. the skin of your back was bare. you weren't wearing a bra underneath. you help up the front of the dress with both of your hands, cupping your breasts to keep it situated as simon finally reached over and began to unravel the laces of the corset.

"you goin' out?"

you nodded, rocking to the side a bit as he tugged the edges of the laces loose and began to tighten up the back of the corset. you held onto your stomach as the fabric of it began to shape the curve of your waist.

"yeah, just with some of the girls. they've been dying to go out, but i've just been working so much..."

"hmmm," he grunted in agreement. "'v hardly seen your face around here."

you sighed as he straightened out the straps, tying off the end of the corset with a tight bow at the bottom. you turned around to face him, and simon had to bite back the curse threatening to leave at the sight of you. the skin along your chest looked so soft, plump to the touch. he wanted to lean down and lick over the curve of your breasts right there, feel it bounce back with a hard kiss, watch your nipples harden if he blew on the sensitive contours of your neck.

"sorry...work has been...really busy."

"dunno 'bout that, luv. i know you're pickin' up shifts. i can hear you on the phone, asking to come in."

there was something more in that comment, something more he wanted to say lingering in the air. you frowned a little, meeting his eyes.

"im just trying to make extra money, simon, thats all."

he leaned in a little closer.

"if you need help--"

"no," you said immediately, shaking your head. "i know what you're going to say. i don't need your...i'm fine."

simon lowered his head slightly. for a moment, just one fleeting moment, you suddenly understand perhaps why men cowered on the battlefield. there was something dull and lifeless swirling there in his eyes. he was so much larger than you, big enough that he could probably wrap his whole hand around your neck and squeeze, and the life would leave you easy--and somehow you knew, those eyes wouldn't change, even knowing they would have taken the light from your own.

you knew, suddenly, that you were face to face with somebody else. a beast with a quiet name, a killer that rarely made a sound, the last whisper that one might ever hear.

you had angered simon, and his protector had come.

"you're lyin'."

"simon--"

"you're lyin' to me, sweetheart. where are your fuckin' manners?"

"i'm not one of your fucking soliders, simon. you can't give me orders," you snapped. you moved past him, hitting his shoulder with your own and going back into your room. you picked up your heels, taking a seat on your bed as you furiously slipped them on. your shadow followed, coming into your room and standing before you.

"how many times? how many times have i asked if everything is straight?"

you ignored him, continuing to slip your shoes on. of course, the ones you had picked out for tonight had straps that needed to be tied up your ankle.

"so i'm going to ask you again, luv, and you're gonna answer me well. do you need my bloody help?"

you let go of the ribbons of your shoes, letting them fall. you put your hands into your lap, your eyes on your crudely painted nails and skin of your knees and the way the shadow at your front began to come closer.

you swallowed hard when he knelt down at your feet. you watched with soft eyes as he picked up your foot gently by the ankle, resting it on his thigh. his gloved hands picked up the silk ribbons, beginning to cross them over your ankle. he straightened out the creases and made sure not to tie them twisted, being careful to make the ribbons look presentable.

when he finished tying the bow on one foot, he brought your ankle up, pressing the mouth of his mask to the silk of it and letting it fall. he picked up your other foot just as tenderly and with the precision of a sniper, he tied your ribbons and pressed a kiss to the silk.

with both your feet on the ground, and simon on his knees seemingly not going anywhere, you reached forward and slipped a hand under the hood, caressing one side of his face.

your palm was warm, fitting into the curve of his cheek. the fabric of his mask was soft as always, black cotton that shielded his pretty face from your eyes always. you never cared to look under it, never felt the need to make him take it off. even now, with his face in your hands, you felt no urge to see what was underneath. as far as you were concerned, the mask was his face--even if you had once seen that face and how stupidly handsome he was.

simon was an enigma. he had a poker face that many envied; the mask hid so much of his emotions, so much of what he might feel, and often he was even able to control the scrunch of his brows or the twitch of his eyes so you could read nothing. but he needed his eyes; he needed them to see, to engage, and if he could cover them, he would, but he needed them, so they were dark and wide, the one piece of him that he allowed.

so you tilted his head back with your hand on his face, letting the soft light of the room break him his hiding place. he wasn't wearing any eye-black today, and you smoothed a thumb just under his eye, watching his lashes flutter for a second. fuck, he was so pretty.

"you worry too much, simon," you whispered. "i'm fine. i promise."

you leaned forward, sighing deeply.

"i promise, simon," you said under your breath. "if something was wrong, i would tell you."

you tried looking into his eyes to convince him, but you knew as soon as you did, that you crucified the lie. something was wrong. you were scraping along, getting dragged by life, but you had learned a long time ago how to bury things into a box and swallow it all down.

you knew, also, that he didn't believe you. simon was too intelligent a man to think you were being honest there, but he didn't say anything. he just followed the warmth of your hand, and if he was a cat, he'd be purring.

you moved to stand, but simon reached for you, his gloved hands on your knees as he held you there. you opened your mouth to speak, but then he leaned forward, his head against your chest as he held you close. it forced your knees to spread to make room for him, and you sucked in a breath as both of his palms slipped up your thighs and caressed the soft skin there.

"simon--"

"don't want to bloody talk--"

"but--simon--"

it happened fast. one moment, you were sitting upright, cradling his head to your chest and feeling his hands along thighs, and the next, you were on your back, splayed across your bed, your dress riding up your hips and the stilettos of your heels digging into the meat of simon's back.

simon was not all muscle; sometimes, when he relaxed, you could feel the softness of him under your palm, a warmth that was solid, like a bear--something protective and built to last, like the foundations of a good home. and then sometimes he was like this--tense all over, muscles constricted, abdomen as taut as a rock, arms bulging as they worked and lifted and manhandled you like the lieutenant he was.

his head was buried between your thighs. you panted, breath heavy as you felt his heavy breath suddenly, his mask pushed up just enough so that he could lick a warm stripe up the inside of your thigh.

"you won't talk," simon murmured against the skin there. he wrapped his arms around your thighs, yanking you forward until he could kiss where your pelvis met your thigh. you shuddered at the feeling of his lips grazing the lace of your panties. "you won't fuckin' talk, but you will sing for me, luv."

"simon, i need to go..."

your voice was protesting, but your hands found the back of his head, smoothing over the locks of his hair. you whimpered when you felt the wetness of his tongue along the fabric of your panties. his entire mouth enveloped your mound, jaw hinging wide as he tasted you through the lace. you bucked up into his mouth, your hips chasing the wet feeling. he growled out angrily, keeping your hips pinned down as he sucked messily, his teeth nipping at the delicate lingerie.

you sucked in a shaky breath as he used a gloved finger to push it to the side, your cunt on display. he cursed when he spread your folds, watching the drip of you as it drenched your panties more, your sweet hole puckering around nothing.

"fuckin' hell--" he sucked on his teeth. "you're fuckin' drippin', luv."

"s-simon, i-i...i can explain, i..."

"don't have to explain anythin'."

you whined as he finally put his mouth on you. his tongue started low, teasing your cunt with a slow circle before curling, trying to flood his mouth with the taste of you. you tasted good, tasted familiar somehow, and his chest swelled at the thought that you were this wet because you were thinking about him.

he could listen to you for hours. the moans that passed through your glossy lips, the languid roll of your hips as you chased his tongue, the sweat that gathered at the base of your spine and along your forehead and the sound of his name sputtering in choked breaths out of your gorgeous mouth.

a vision. simon didnt believe paradise existed, but he believed there was something close to it. it used to be the side of a bullet hitting exactly where he aimed, the feel of foreign soil hitting his enemy's eyes before he took them down, getting his squad out of the gutter when they were pinned down on all sides. he was good at his job. he was good on the field, he was good with chaos, but this was new.

this feeling had always been somewhere under the surface whenever he was with you. he didn't recognize it at first because he had never felt anything quite like it. the feeling one gets when they get home after a long day. the light in someone's eyes when they see a face they recognize when they're in a place they don't belong. the light of a flame in room so dark, you can't see your hands held up in front of your face.

he wondered sometimes if he had ever felt this way with his family. if looking into his nephew's eyes, he had ever felt something like this--and he did, somewhat, but this was more. this wasn't the gentle nip of a soft animal, this kind of love had fangs, and it had sunk itself so deep into him, he knew it was latched onto him. sucking on his blood, draining the shit from his veins, and putting something else there, something addicting.

and he didn't care. he gripped your hips with his gloved hands, sucking on your clit and licking up the slick of you and trying so hard to please the woman that plagued every fucking thought in his head.

"simon--"

your voice was a sob, practically. whining his name, tears coming down your face as he ate you out furiously. he was gentle at first, and then he was nearly aggressive, slurping at your folds and fucking into your cunt and barely coming up for air. when he did come up, his tone was low and drunk-sounding, slurring out soft phrases of "like a fuckin' sweet" and "so fuckin' pretty."

your back arched off the bed. your makeup was ruined by now, surely. your corset askew, your stilettos digging dark holes into his back, your throat hoarse from the crying--simon had you like no one else. simon had you wrapped so tightly around his gloved finger, you might as well have been a brand there--an extension of that glove, one of the crude white bones painted along the back of his hand. he had carved a hole so deep inside of you, shaped perfectly to the beastly size of him; you would never be rid of him. your whole life after this, you just knew--nobody would ever eat your cunt the way lieutenant simon riley ate it, that was a fucking fact.

he moaned when you came. a deep, guttural moan that came from deep in his chest. his eyes rolled to the back of his head when you gushed right onto his tongue. he drank it like he was running desert dry, a kind of eagerness that was making your vision go a little fuzzy, sparkling dots hazing over you. your head was a mess of emotions, all clouded over by pleasure and your body limp in his arms. your body was jelly, so worn as if you had been fucked brainless, but, oh--simon hadn't even gotten that far with you, and his mouth had you spineless.

you sat up, hair tousled, legs shaking, breaths warm and heavy and easy. everything was easy with simon. living, breathing, loving, touching--everything was easy.

he stood up finally, rising from his knees and rolling out his shoulders, and even though you could see him subtly adjusting his pants, he didn't make a move on you. he didn't reach for you, didn't try and touch you again, didn't reach for the bow he had tied on your corset to try and undo it. no, simon had just given you a mind-numbing orgasm and if not for the strain on his zipper, you'd think he had just filed his fucking taxes.

"simon...s-simon--"

"have fun tonight," he murmured, brushing a stray hair out of your face. he tucked it behind your ear, the glove making you shiver. "you call me when y'ready to come home."

your lashes fluttered as you looked up at him, a soft smile on your face.

"m-maybe i dont...maybe i don't wanna go out, m-maybe i wanna stay here...with you...w-watch movies like we usually do."

he shook his head, his thumb swiping just under your chin.

"no. go have fun. i'll be waitin' here for you, luv."

his fingers traced along your neck, something in his eyes that said he wanted more. but a ghost doesn't beg, right?

but maybe simon does.

"okay. i'll call you."

"right then."

and when the click of your bedroom door shut, you looked down at your shoes, so prettily tied with a bow on the end. you reached down, gripping the end of the bow and pulling, watching the silk unravel and come undone.

and then he heard the call of his name again.

[yuutx]

ೀ ׅ ۫ . 𝐒𝐎𝐁𝐁𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐅𝐎𝐑 𝐑𝐄𝐋𝐄𝐀𝐒𝐄 ! (𝒞𝐻𝒪𝒮𝒪 𝒦𝒜𝑀𝒪)

choso kamo x f!reader . 18+ content. ⟆ nsfw. mommy kink. slapping. dacryphilia. handjob. begging. ⟆ msub+ fdom ⟆ not proofread ! ‎ ໒ྀི꒰ ◞ ‌ ◟ ꒱ྀིა

subby choso is adorablee.. need to see him under me goshh.. definetely gonna have 2 write more of him ! he's just 2 cute ! ♡ + ↻ are rlly appreciated ! !

Choso's hips slowly jerked into your palm, a desperate moan escaping his lips as his head fell back against the couch. His hands gripped onto the material of the cushions, the veins in his neck visible as he tried to control his movements. He was panting, chest rising and falling, his cheeks flushed a beautiful rosy pink that reached the tips of his ears as his dark eyes stared at you from beneath his wet lashes.

Tears trickled down his cheeks as he whined your name, the sound sending a shudder through your body as you moved your hand up and down his length, twisting it slightly on the upstroke. The tip of his cock was dripping with precum, his balls tight and aching for release. He had been edged to the point where he was sobbing, begging for you to let him cum, but you weren't quite done having fun yet. You wanted to see how much more he could take before he completely broke.

"Please, please let me cum.." Choso gasped out, his eyes rolling back in his head when you pressed your thumb against the sensitive spot under the head of his cock. " P-pleasepleasepleaseplease.. need to cum..mommy, i need to cum s' bad.. please, I can't take anymore.." His voice was absolutely wrecked, broken and filled with so much desperation that it made your heart ache. He looked so gorgeous, his body trembling as his thighs trembled from the effort to keep his hips still. His hair was sticking to his forehead, beads of sweat running down the sides of his face, his lips swollen from the way he had bitten them.

"Oh, no.." You whispered softly, leaning closer and pressing a kiss to the side of his mouth, " You haven't earned that privilege yet, baby boy." You teased, giving his length another firm stroke, feeling it pulse beneath your fingertips. Choso groaned, his head falling back again, his body tensing up, his breathing ragged as his knuckles began to turn white from how tightly he was gripping the couch.

"Mommy, mommy, I can't-" he stuttered, his cock twitching, a fresh stream of precum leaking out of the slit. You watched in awe as his hips bucked up, his mouth dropping open in a silent scream. His back arched, his body convulsing as he came hard, ropes of hot sticky cum spurting out of his cock, covering his stomach, his chest, and your hand. Choso fell back against the couch, his breathing ragged, his eyelids fluttering closed.

"Naughty boy.. making a mess everywhere..and without my permission, too." You cooed, a mischievous smile curling your lips. You wiped the cum off your hand, smearing it over his stomach and chest, watching him tremble. His cock was still rock hard, pulsing with each beat of his heart, the head flushed a deep purple. Choso whined pitifully, his eyes fluttering open, a continuous stream of tears flowing from his eyes. "S-sorry.. I'm sorry..i couldn't stop myself..m' so sorry, mommy.." he sobbed, his whole body shaking. "J-jus' wanted to c-cum..i was so close..I'm sorry.."

"Poor thing~" You replied with mock sympathy, trailing a finger through the mess on his stomach, circling his belly button, "You really can't control yourself, can you?" Choso whimpered, nodding his head weakly. You grinned wickedly, leaning forward, pressing a chaste kiss to his forehead.

"I guess I'll just have to punish you then, hm? You can't disobey me and expect me to let it slide, now can you?" You asked, moving back and grabbing a fistful of his hair, yanking his head up, forcing him to look at you. Choso shook his head, his lower lip quivering, tears spilling from his eyes.

"I can't, I'm sorry, I'm so, so, so, sorry.. please, I'll be good.. promise.." Choso babbled, his voice breaking, his shoulders slumping. You let go of his hair, bringing your hand up to his cheek, slapping him hard across the face, watching his head snap to the side. You slapped him again, his jaw clenching, a quiet whimper leaving his throat. "P-please don't.. I-I can't.. I can't take any more.. it's too much..pleasee.." Choso mumbled, sniffling, his eyes squeezed shut. "I-it's hurts..my cock hurts.. I can't- I can't, please." His voice cracked, his whole body shaking uncontrollably. "I'm sorry.. I'm sorry.." He repeated, over and over, his head drooping down, his hair hanging over his face.

"I think you can. I think you can take so much more." You replied, reaching down and gripping his balls tightly, squeezing them until he cried out. You gave his balls a quick tug, a smirk forming on your lips when he jerked forward, gasping. "You're gonna take whatever I give you, baby. Now, be a good boy and hold still. I'm not done playing yet."

[rafescurtainbangz]

Professor Cameron - Rafe Cameron One Shot +18

Minor DNI

Based off a prompt by @geniousbh :

Rafe x female reader (No use of Y/N)

Warnings: smut & language

Fingering, oral (female receiving), unprotected p in v, pet names, squirting, overstimulation, breeding kink, praise kink, ownership kink, creampie, cum play, older Rafe

Lightly edited

3.1K

Taglist ♡ @imyourdaninow

Enjoy! 💕✨

"I'm so close to a C," you grumble, eyes rolling as you hold yet another Econ test between your fingers; D+ scrolled in blood-red ink. "Another fuckin' D."

"A D+, actually," your friend teases, tapping the top.

"Well, would you look at that?" You sass, readjusting yourself from your slumped state, eyes drifting ahead, matching Professor Cameron's. He represses a smile, running his palm against his lips.

"Do they do extra credit in college?" You whine, leaning into your friend, resting your head on her shoulder as you continue to sulk.

"Professor C? No fuckin' way; the guy's a hard ass."

"I don't think that's true," You look his way again, just missing his eyes. "He looks sweet," you whisper.

"He's hot as fuck," she adds, making your cheeks flush pink. "Is he married? I don't see a ring." She studies him a little further, trying to get a better look.

"Why does it matter?" You ask, narrowing your gaze on him.

"Meh. It doesn't, but it makes it easier. You said you wanted extra credit, sunshine." She wiggles her eyebrows, elbowing you playfully.

"Just tell me what you're getting at," you huff. "Class is almost over, and I need to figure this shit out."

"Jesus Christ, babe. You want extra credit. He's not married. And he already looks at you like he wants to devour you."

"Eat me?"

"If that's what you're into, or you could suck him off, I suppose," she giggles as you let out a little gasp. "Ugh... Stop clutching your pearls. If he was lookin' at me like that, he'd be blowin' my back out every day of the week."

"So, you really think he likes me?" Your teeth sink into your bottom lip as you turn in his direction. He's not looking at me...

"Just give it a second," your friend breathes.

Professor Cameron thumbs through the remaining stack of tests, handing another small pile to his teacher's assistant before snagging his school bag and coffee cup. Your stomach floods with butterflies as he matches your gaze, walking toward the lecture hall steps.

"Just fucking do it," she groans. "Even if you don't get the extra credit, at least you'll get somethin' out of it."

"Something?"

"Dick... Seriously. What the fuck, girl?" 

"Stop bein' mean," you whine. 'What if he doesn't want me?"

"Sure," she laughs.

********

You walk down the hallway, heading toward the faculty offices. Wandering slowly as you skim the name plaques, searching for his.

Professor Rafe Cameron

Rafe? You bite back a nervous smile. I've never met a "Rafe" before. You lift your fist, giving the door a soft knock.

"Come in," he calls from behind it. You twist the handle; Rafe's blue eye expands slightly, along with his smile. It quickly fades. Maybe he doesn't want me here. Maybe I need to go.

"I'm sorry. I... Well, I didn't make an appointment," you babble, twirling your hair nervously.

"No - No. It's alright," he assures, the corners of his lips curling as he says the words. "Take a seat. Please." He gestures to the leather chair across from his large desk. You walk over taking a seat, smoothing your little skirt before matching his eyes. He addresses you by Miss, surprising you when he uses your last name, falling from his lips with ease. You're taken aback, frazzled at the moment that he knows you by name, out of a lecture hall full of students.

I'm clearly not an exceptional student. There are students with perfect scores in my class. Maybe he's just thoughtful. Maybe he remembers everyone's names.

"Are you alright?" He asks as he leans back in his chair slightly, adjusting in his seat.

"Umm... Just a little nervous," you let out a flighty laugh as he gives you his full attention.

"I don't bite," he smiles, crossing his arm across his broad chest. You watch as his linen shirt stretches across his strong arms. You study him a little more, taking in his features. You've never gotten to see him this close: perfectly quaffed locks, just the right amount of stubble on his chiseled jaw. He's loosened his tie since you saw him last, Rafe's top button drawn open as well, a peek of a gold chain matching his ring-adorned fingers. He guides your attention back to his eyes, using your first name this time, making your heart race.

"So, is there anything I can help you with?" He asks you again with a softer tone, just trying to pull any sort of answer out of you.

"Sorry... Umm. I'm not doing very well in your class. I just - I'm not used to doing so poorly." His eyes soften on yours as you continue to spin your sob story. "I seem to do well on my papers, but, I do really bad on my tests."

His lips tug to the side, brows knitting tight. "Well, that's because I grade your papers," he hums as he turns his swivel chair toward his computer, pulling up the gradebook. "My T.A. is on a little bit of a power trip this semester. And it does not help that you're stunning. Think someone's a little jealous," he chuckles. You feel heat spread across your cheeks as you take in his compliment. "We'll see if we can work something out."

Professor Cameron matches your smile, lingering a little while before returning to his screen. "Alright..." He takes a deep breath, squinting slightly before taking out some black glasses. "Let's see what we're workin' with." He scans the numbers, writing down a few things on a little Post-It note. "So it looks like lesson 5, 6, and 8 tests were all D's." You nod your head in acknowledgment. "Well, you can retake these if you'd like. And, I can regrade them for you; skip the middleman."

"Really?" You bubble.

"'Course," he breathes. "There's no reason those tests should be that low given what you know. I'm very impressed with your written work."

"Yeah?" You expel a sigh of relief.

"Yeah... I would bet that you could finish the course with at least a B."

"Wow, Professor Cameron. Thank you so much. At least... So, I could maybe get an A?" You smile, sweetening your tone, just playing around, doing your best to lighten the mood.

"Maybe," he chuckles, relaxing back in his chair. "I don't see why not. And we can always talk about extra credit if you'd like."

"Extra credit? That would be really nice, Professor Cameron." Your eyes fall to his thigh; two thick fingers moving ever so slightly, tracing the sleek black material, making your mind wander as you think about what he could do with his hands, if he was rough or gentle. He looks like he'd be rough.

"Yeah, extra credit," he hums; you follow his gaze, eyes lost in your cleavage, hidden slightly by your oversized jean jacket.

"What can I do for you, Professor Cameron," the words leave your lips before you can think them through. "F-For extra credit, that is," you recover quickly your cheeks shifting from a pretty blush to a deep red hue.

He fights off a smile, rapping his ringed finger against the wood desk a few times."Whatever you're comfortable with," he breathes. Rafe raises his hand, brushing away his smile just as he did in the classroom. This time, more of a smirk.

Whatever I'm comfortable with... He wants me to? Maybe?

Grabbing your jean jacket, you pull it off your shoulders, exposing your pink top, black lace peeking out."I'll do whatever it takes to get an "A," Professor Cameron."

"You will, now?" he sighs, sinking in his seat slightly, widening his thighs, making himself a little more comfortable. "You sure about that?"

"Mhmm," you breathe as you lean in closer, giving him a better view of your breasts. He lets out a sinful laugh, loosening his tie a little more than before, his icy blue eyes darkening along with yours.

"And, you'd do anything it takes to get that "A." Huh?" He mumbles as you work the satin straps over your shoulders, letting it fall around your waist.

"Anything."

"Shit," he draws out the word, snatching his glasses off his face before rising in his seat. He's tall, far taller from this angle, towering over you as he walks around the desk, designer dress shoes shuffling along the floor.

"Are you married, Professor Cameron?"

"Nah... I'm not. I'm single. And, you can call me Rafe if you'd like," he rasps, pawing his tie the rest of the way off. "Are you single? Anyone taking care of you."

"Just me," you whisper, your innocent eyes set on his.

"Just me. Huh?" He echoes. You nod as he grips the armrests of your swivel chair, towing you closer. "These boys not cuttin' it for you, princess?" You shake your head 'no'. You can see the print of Rafe's long, thick cock; pressing against his slacks. "I'm gonna take care of you." He takes hold of your chin with a heavy hand.

"Okay, Ra-" He steals your words, claiming your lips against his. Rafe catches your moan in his mouth, answering with his own. You let out a little gasp as he lifts you to your feet, bringing you closer. The two of you work on what little clothing remains between sloppy kisses, tearing it off each other's bodies until all that's left are his black boxer briefs.

Rafe groans as his rough fingers glide down your smooth skin, tracing the small of your waist, massaging and pressing your breasts together as his eyes roll back. He lifts you effortlessly, taking you into his strong arms. You hold on tight as Rafe swipes his palm across the desk, making the items tumble to the floor. He lays you on top, lips barely losing contact, kissing you roughly.

Your hands drift down his chest, journeying lower and lower. You rake your hands back up, feeling his muscles, resting on his chest, feeling his heart pound underneath. You dig your nails into his skin, making him hiss out a breath.

You feel the chill of his rings against your hot skin as he squeezes your tits, shoving them together. "Jesus fuck, baby girl," he mutters, locking down on your nipple, swirling and flicking, leaving you a whimpering mess. "You look good... So fuckin' good," he groans, running two thick fingers between your thighs, skimming your slit. "How are you so wet?" He growls.

You take in his scent, rich and delicious, amplified by the warmth of his bare skin. You reach for him desperately, pulling him to your lips as he rocks into you, thrusting languidly, stroking your aching pussy with his clothed cock. His gold chain sways, with each roll of his hips brushing against your cleavage.

"Please," you whimper, desperate for more.

"Want me to eat your pussy, angel? Hmm? Bend you over my desk?"

"Yes, Rafe. Fuck," you whimper.

He lowers himself between your legs, looping his arms under your thighs, pulling you toward his face. Rafe spreads your legs, kissing you deeply, marking you in a way that'll surely leave a bruise, teasing you as his digits slip closer. You take a grip on his sandy-blonde hair, pulling him nearer as you buck your hips, craving more friction between the two of you. Rafe breathes warmly against your clit, making you melt into the table.

"Rafe-" You beg, your words turning into a breathy cry as he plunges his tongue deeply, drawing out slowly, licking a line to your clit that has your body quaking. He sucks your bud, releasing you with a pop. Doing it again and again, leaving your thighs trembling uncontrollably. He brushes his tongue side to side on your clit, making your vision blur.

Rafe slings your legs over his broad shoulders, working deeper than before. You grip the edge of the desk; teeth clenched, muscles firing hot as you hold back your cries of pleasure. "Cum for me..." He grunts, driving his fingers into you as you nod rapidly.

"Y-Yeah," you shudder, chasing your climax as he pounds into your dripping cunt.

"Do it." Rafe curls his fingers inside of you, tension snapping as you moan his name. "Fuck... Say it again. Say my name again," he groans, looking down at you in a drunken haze as he works you through your orgasm.

"Rafe," you breathe. He slips between your legs, cleaning the mess he made with his tongue.

This - This is a man. Sure, I've been with plenty of boys, but this is divine. I can tell that he knows what he's doing: how to kiss, how to touch a woman. I need him. All of him.

"Tastes so fuckin' good," he mumbles. "Anything?" He asks again as he tugs at the elastic of his boxers.

"Anything," you mewl.

"Need to be inside you," he mutters as he pulls his boxers off his body. "You want that. Don't you?"

"Yes."

He gives you a few experimental thrusts, watching you jolt in your sensitivity every time his rock-hard cock nudges your clit. You look at the slight space between the two of you, letting out a desperate moan, yearning to be filled. Rafe's long, thick dick curved toward his stomach, glistening with precum, smudging against his tight stomach with each rut.

"Fuck me," you plead.

You let out a gasp as he stuffs his cock in your pussy; hips flush with your ass, balls deep; pushing even further. "R-Rafe..." You whimper, tears running down your cheeks as you feel the pressure in your guts. 

"Goddamn..." He grunts. "You're so fuckin' tight. Shit - Pussy feels so good."

"You're so big," you whimper as you press your hand against your tummy.

"You okay? Takin' me so well..."

"Yeah. M'fine. Feels so fucking good."

"Been hopin' you'd walk in my office since the first day I saw you." He brushes your tears away with his thumbs as he kisses your lips, dick buried deep. "Who woulda thought you be such a slut for your professor. Huh?"

BANG. BANG.

"Hey, Rafe. Are you free?" His colleague yells from outside the door, causing the two of you to freeze. Rafe snares your hips, holding you in place. He draws a finger to his lips, demanding your silence.

"Wanted to see if you could look over something for me."

Rafe grinds his hips slowly, not wanting to stop, cupping your breast in his hand. He leans down, giving you a soft bite, eyes focused on yours.

"Rafe?" The male tries again, making Rafe roll his eyes in annoyance. You watch as the shadow shifts underneath the door, walking away.

"Fuck, that was close," he breathes, kissing his way up your stomach. "Come over tonight?"

"You want me to come over to your house?" You whisper as you smile against his lips.

"Need to fuck you in a bed. Want you to ride me. You want that "A." Yeah?" He asks, his voice deep and dark.

"Yes, Professor Cameron," you smile as you flutter your lashes, your angelic tone contrasting his wicked one entirely.

"You're a pretty little thing. Fuck. You're gorgeous," he praises as his swollen tip presses against your entrance, stretching you slightly, making your lips part in a soft "o." He groans as he nudges himself a little further, rocking into you nice and slow, teasing you with the first few inches and his fat cockhead.

"Rafe... Pl-" Your plea turns into a gasp as he pushes himself inside, bottoming you out completely. Your back arches off the desk, nipples grazing his chest.

Rafe thrusts at a rapid pace, skin striking skin. Knocking you deep in your core. "Such a good girl f'me," he grunts, punctuating each word with a rough thrust leaving you trembling.

You let out a moan that has him rushing to silence you, sealing your mouth with his broad palm, each muffled sound more fucked out than the last.

"You're killin' me," he mutters against your neck. "Gonna let you be real loud tonight. Alright? Gotta big fuckin' house. You can scream as loud as you want." His hand works between your thighs, brushing quickly against your clit; making you dig your nails into his shoulder blades."If I move my hand, are you gonna be a good little whore? Keep that mouth nice and quiet, f'me?"

"Yeah-"

"If you can't, I can stuff it full for you. Keep you real fuckin' quiet."

"N-No. Wanna cum... Fuck, I'm gonna-" His focus falls to the sound of your body gushing, squirting onto his cock and thighs as he continues to pound you into the wooden desk.

Your body clutches him, muscles pulsing. "That's it, baby. Fuckin' squeeze me." He looks down at you with half-lidded eyes, trying his best to thrust. Rafe doesn't give you orders, simply forcing you right where he wants you. Gripping your hips, turning you a moment later, lifting your ass in the air as you take a hold of the desk. You look over your shoulder, watching as he winds up to smack your ass. Stopping himself with a smirk and a raspy laugh. "I'm gonna ruin you tonight." His voice sends chills down your spine. Rafe grips your skin tightly, bunching it up in his hand as he coaxes his dick back in.

He ruts his hips deeply, fingertips driving into the fat of your ass as his hips clap against your skin. "Rafe," you blubber, trying your best to steady yourself on whatever you can grab. You can feel his tip kiss your G-spot with each stroke, working incredibly deep.

"Almost there... Want you to cum with me," he groans.

"Let me cum. I can't-"

"You will..."

"Please-"

"M'gonna cum, baby," he grunts, hand weaving into your hair. He yanks it back, pulling your orgasm out with it, blanketing your mouth as he silences your cries. You flutter wildly around his cock as he fills you to the brim with his climax. Rafe draws out slowly, letting your releases drip from your cunt; rolling down your inner thigh. He grips his cock in his fist, collecting your shared release, swirling his tip around your entrance before stuffing it deep inside again.

"Goddamn," he mumbles. Swiveling his hips slowly, jagged breaths are heard as he continues to move, completely overstimulated but loving the feeling too much to quit. "Mmm... You're gonna ride me tonight. Bounce on me; tits in fuckin' face. This wet fuckin' pussy is mine..." He moans, already desperate for more, as he palms your soft skin.

You reach for air, doing your best to catch your breath, riding a euphoric high. "Shit... Did I get an A, Professor Cameron?" You laugh breathily.

"A" fuckin' plus, princess."

Part 2 in my masterlist 🩷

[barefoothighlander]

never going back again - 02

summary: ghost finds himself at the wrong safe house, injured and unable to call for backup

simon ‘ghost’ riley x innocent fem!reader

warnings: mdni (18+), mentions of eating, nightmares, mention of alcohol, mutual pining

prev part masterlist next part

It was the calmest he'd ever been, lounging around the cottage with you near, he wasn't much for conversation but he enjoyed asking you questions, how long you'd lived there,

"3 years next month, I bought it a while back after moving here on a whim"

What you did all day,

"Garden and read, lots of painting, even more cooking"

It was all so foreign to him, the idea of living one day at a time, not worrying about the outside world or whether or not your life was in danger, he'd realized quickly that this was the first time he felt safe in years, even with the looming threat of enemies outside and the lack of contact to his team. It did occur to him that if he didn't reach out eventually he would be labelled MIA, but to a man who wasn't even legally alive, the prospect of never seeing his team again didn't worry him a bit, what did worry him was the burning smell from the kitchen.

"What are you doing in here?"

"I was trying a new recipe, it's harder than it looks" You rush to turn off the stove, quickly pulling the pan from the surface and using a towel to waft the smoke.

"I thought you were good at cooking"

"No I said I liked cooking, not that I was any good" You huff while reaching to open the small window above the sink, allowing the fumes to migrate through the opening.

He leans his hands against the table "It doesn't look that bad"

"You're a terrible liar, has anyone ever told you that"

"Most say I've got a great poker face" He tilts his head, you respond with an unamused haha,

He stands to his full height, moving towards you "Let me"

"Let you what"

"Cook, I'll make dinner"

"Anything's better than this" You nudge towards the pan of burnt food, straightening your clothes before allowing him the step to the stove. You turn to sit at the table, watching as he moves around the kitchen with ease, grabbing ingredients from various spots while you point him toward the proper cabinets.

"Where'd you learn to cook?"

"Had to figure out a way to feed myself once I left home"

"They don't feed you at work?"

"They do, but it's mostly inedible, more nutrient based than anything"

"Did your mum cook?"

He doesn't respond for a moment, leaving you to realize the words that come from your mouth, your smile fading quickly, "I'm sorry I forgot"

"S'alright, she um, she didn't often but some Sundays she'd make a roast, best meal I ever ate"

He turns to you, his gaze soft as you smile slightly in response,

"Well let's hope her skills weren't wasted on you"

He laughs lightly, a real laugh before shaking his head and turning his attention back to the stove. You watch as he prepares the food for a few minutes, reaching across the counter to add spices,

"So what are you making?"

"I am making" He stops his sentence, turning off the stove and twisting to face you, "French toast"

"French toast?"

"I said I could cook, not that I know a lot of recipes"

You cover your mouth as you laugh, your eyes creasing at the sides as he places a plate in front of you,

"Well, it smells great"

The two of you dig into the food, your gaze focused on the plate as you allow him the privacy to lift his mask up slightly, revealing his mouth, falling into a comfortable silence as you eat, Simon smiles to himself as you make a small hum of approval,

"You can't be serious"

"What'd I do?"

"That's like a cup of syrup"

"So?"

"You're teeth are going to rot from your head"

"What if they already have"

You scrunch your face at the thought, "At least it'd explain the mask"

"You don't have to turn away you know"

You make a small huh? in response,

"When I pull on my mask, I don't mind you seeing parts of my face"

"I just assumed"

"I know, but you don't have to turn away"

"Okay" Your voice is smaller, intrigue and confusion mixed into it as you nod. “How’s your cut”

“Healing, thanks to you, still tender”

“Can I” You turn your eyes to his, standing from the table to kneel by his side, his breath catches in his throat as you lower your body, your fingers inches from his stomach.

He nods lightly in permission, lifting his shirt for you and settling it on his lower stomach, your fingers pressing gently on the sides of his wound as you inspect it. His eyes stare at your face, holding back a smile as you bite your lip in concentration, you stand, turning behind to grab some new bandages from the cabinet behind you before returning to your position in front of him.

You brace your fingers against his skin, tugging at his bandage,

“Sorry”

“Doesn’t hurt”

You tilt your head to him and he’s watching you, his eyes locked on your face, your cheeks flush slightly under his stare, turning your attention towards his wound as you dress it, pressing the bandage into his skin. You let your fingers linger for a moment, feeling his stomach rise and fall with each breath before you slowly pull away, standing up and nodding.

“That should do”

“Thank you”

“It’s nothing”

“Thank you” He repeats in a lower, softer voice as he lets his shirt fall into place.

"Any idea when your ear thing will work again?"

"You trying to kick me out?"

"No" You widen your eyes at your quick response, "Just, want to make sure there isn't someone at home missing you"

"There isn't"

You mouth a small oh before turning your gaze toward the window, "It's late, you should rest"

"Right"

There's tension between the two of you, neither wants to leave the others company yet at the same time, neither of you will do anything about it.

"I'll see you in the morning" You smile, passing through the kitchen towards your room and closing the door, leaving Simon alone.

He wakes in a blind panic, the sky outside still dark as he blinks his eyes, turning his head towards your door, he can hear you shouting, rustling around and without thinking he enters the room. Your limbs are twisted between the sheets, jolting around as you mumble, he takes a step back as you sit up, your chest heavy.

You clutch your chest at the sight of him, lurking in the doorframe,

"You scared me"

"You were having a nightmare"

"Yeah, they happen sometimes"

It's then that you notice he's not wearing his mask, the room is dark but there's enough light for you to make out the curve of his nose,

He scratches the back of his head, "Okay" turning to leave,

"Simon"

He lazily turns his gaze back to you, responding with a small hmm.

"Will you stay, it's just"

He cuts you off, "Easier to sleep with someone beside you"

"Please"

"Of course"

You watch as he crosses the room, looming beside your bed as you pull the sheets to cover you, feeling the mattress dip under his weight as he settles in. He lays awkwardly on his back, his arms crossed over his stomach, you watch his chest rise and fall, without thinking you slide your palm against it, your fingers light on the fabric of his shirt as you move closer, pressing your chest against his side and resting your head on his shoulder. He snakes an arm around you, letting you nestle against him as his hand settles gently on your arm, his touch feather-light as he tries to keep a consistent heartbeat.

You must've fallen asleep shortly after, waking to the sun streaming into the room, your limbs tangled between his, both of you had turned in your sleep, his chest now pressed against your back as his arms held snugly against your waist. You can feel his steady breath fan across your neck, his face close enough that the tip of his nose grazes your skin, he's so warm, the sheets on the bed long forgotten in your sleep and the heat coming from him is more than enough.

You reach a hand to his arm, tracing over the lines of his tattoo and you feel him tighten his grip, his stable breaths now ragged as he wakes up. It takes him a moment to realize the position he's in, his brain doing little to comprehend the situation.

"Do you have something in your pocket?"

He pulls from you instantly, jolting upwards and turning around as you giggle,

"M'sorry" His voice is groggy, his accent thicker than usual.

"It's fine"

He keeps his gaze away from you, anxiously stretching his limbs before you realize,

"I'm gonna shower, I'll turn away so I don't"

"Thank you"

You can only see the back of his head, his blonde hair that's a mess, the outline of his head as he nods, shaking your thoughts as you move out of the room.

You stare at yourself in the bathroom mirror, hoping that he didn't get a chance to see you that morning either, your hair was everywhere, the skin under your eyes dark from your usual lack of sleep as you strip your pyjamas, turning on the faucet.

You stand in the warm water, letting it wash over you, hoping it would calm your rampant thoughts as you hear Simon moving around behind the door.

You step out of the shower, wrapping your body in a towel and smoothing your hair back before opening the door, the steam wafting from the small room into the house.

“Where’s the kettle?”

“Top left cabinet”

You stand in the doorway, your hands squeezing the water from your hair as you look at him,

“Thanks”

He turns quickly to you and his body freezes, his eyes glued to your practically naked form as you stand, the beads of water dripping from your warm skin.

“Everything okay?”

“Yeah, yep, just making tea”

“Okay, bags are in the lower cupboard”

He nods awkwardly, furrowing your brows at him before turning around, he lets out a heavy breath as you leave, leaning back against the counter as he drops his head back, staring at the ceiling.

“Shit” He mumbles to himself, adjusting his pants feeling them grow tighter as his mind runs circles around the sight of you, replaying the way your fingers traced over his skin, and scent of your hair as he rested his head against yours. He was awake most of the night, listening to you breath, smiling lightly as you mumble about nothing, you were soft, he’d never had soft before always jagged and dark.

His mind snaps back as you call from the other room,

“Are you any good at fixing things?”

“Depends, what needs fixing”

“The shutters outside, they’re falling apart”

“I could give them a look”

You appear in the entry, smiling at him, now clothed with your hair pulled back, he just watches you in awe, the fact that you could look so perfect no matter the circumstances, you could be caked in mud and still make his heart flutter.

The two of you sit for tea and chat about nothing, asking more questions that he dodges while you openly answer everything he had wondering about.

“I think you’re his new favourite”

Simon makes a small huh before you nudge your head toward his feet, the small cat nestling itself against his calf.

“Strange”

“He’s not strange”

“Not him just, I’ve never had a cat do this”

“Well get used to it”

He smiles under his mask, he could get used to this, spending his days with you, cooking and drinking tea, just enjoying each others company around the house.

“The shutters”

You set your cup down, nodding at him, “There’s some tools in the shed outside, not sure what’s left but maybe they’d help”

“I’ll get right on it then”

It was sweltering outside, the sun beaming down without a cloud in the sky as Simon tries to navigate his way around fixing the shutters. You see him through the window, his arms flexing as he unscrews some things and nails in others, you had no idea what he was doing but he looked good.

I’m hot, he must be hot you fan yourself with your hand, pulling the hair from your sweat glistened neck, eyes darting around the kitchen before an idea clicks in your head.

“Beer”

It’s the only word you can manage to think of as your eyes fall on him, somewhere in the last few minutes he’d stripped himself of his shirt, tucking the loose material into the belt of his pants as his sweat dripped down his skin.

“Cheers, love one”

Your throat dries, nodding as you extend a n arm toward him, the cold glass of the drink transferring to his grip as he tips it towards you in thanks, turning around to lift his mask slightly before taking a sip. Your eyes trailing down his muscled form, roaming over every ridge of his stomach before moving back up.

“Must be hot with the mask”

“Get used to it”

You take a few gulps of your own drink, running the glass across your skin in an attempt to cool yourself. He turns his gaze back to you, watching as you let the beverage run across your skin, leaving a trail of drips behind, he can’t tell if you’re teasing him or this is just how you act naturally.

“How’s it looking”

“Great”

“So you’re almost done”

“Huh?” His eyes pull back to yours,

“Are you almost done, it’s getting unbearable out here”

“Yeah, nearly there”

“Great, I’ll be inside”

The rest of the evening was calm, the two of you doing your best to stay cool in the small cottage as the sun set over the horizon, deciding on cooking something that didn’t involve the use of heat, settling on sandwiches for dinner.

“Mind if I shower, I’m covered in sweat”

“Yea of course” Your mind floods with the sight of his bare form, thankful that the hot air masked the flush of your cheeks, “Towels are in the washroom”

He nods, standing from the table to move toward the shower, closing the door behind him before turning it on. You blow out a long breath, bracing your hands against the table before turning your head at the sound of him wincing,

“You alright?” You call

“Yeah, just sore”

“Well hurry up, I’ll check your stitches”

You sit impatiently as he showers, nervously tidying the kitchen as you wait, your chest fluttering as you hear the shower turn off.

“Figured it’s easier if I just put my shirt on later”

He must be doing this on purpose, once again your eyes roam his form, his sweat replaced by dripping water as his freshly cleaned skin draws your attention,

“Sure, easier”

He sits on the couch, leaning back and positioning his arm against the top to allow you a better view to his stitches, to your surprise they’re doing well, no inflammation or bleeding, they look good.

“S’good, should be able to take them out soon”

“Great”

“Might leave a scar”

“Adds to the collection”

You pass your gaze over the skin of his chest, littered with scars, some small and others long, some old and some new.

“I’m fine”

“I know you are”

“It only hurts a little, when it happens”

“And someone did this to you”

“A few people”

“How many is a few?” You stare at him with rounded eyes,

“Nothing you need to worry about”

You soften your gaze, standing from the couch,

“I guess we should sleep now” His eyes follow your movements, he shifts in his spot trying to get comfortable,

“Simon, would you- nevermind”

“What do you need?”

“I felt bad waking you last night and I was thinking maybe, if we slept in the same bed I wouldn’t have any, you know”

“Yeah, I’d like that- you not having nightmares” He fumbles over his last words, trying to keep himself together at the prospect of once again having you close.

“Okay” You walk nervously toward your room, the simple action now feeling foreign as he trails behind you, “I’ll keep the lights off if you want”

He nods, closing the door behind him as you get into the bed, shuffling around a little before finding comfort in your position, you turn to your side but keep your eyes on him as he reaches to tug his mask off, your mind trying to piece together what he might look like behind the sharp lines of his shadowed face.

He sets himself beside you, moving an apprehensive arm under your pillow, making sure you were okay with it. You push back against him, your body perfectly slotting in front of his as his other arm settles around your waist, you hold it with your fingers, your thumb rubbing against the skin as you let out a small hum of satisfaction.

You’re asleep in no time, the warmth of the air combined with the comfort of Simon behind you lulling you into a dream while he stays up, his arms tucked against you, it was the most comfortable he’d been in years, maybe ever and be didn’t dare move, his body freezing everytime you moved a leg against him or squeezed his forearm lightly, they were like subconscious reminders that you wanted him there and it warmed his heart, melting against you as he tucked his nose against the nape of your neck, your hair brushing against his skin.

He wakes to an empty bed and a weight on his chest, opening his heavy eyes to the sight of Goliath,

“Good morning kitty”

He runs a hand across his back, smiling lightly as he purrs against his touch before he jumps off, startled by the sounds from the house. Simon quickly realizes that he’s not wearing a mask, it’s light out, and you’re not there, a small panic setting into his nerves as he stands.

He tugs on his mask and a shirt before leaving the room, pressing his side against the frame as he watches you move around the kitchen, steeping some tea while you clean up.

“Mornin”

You turn around with a wide smile, “Sleep well?” You ask, leaning against the counter,

“Best in years” He’s being honest, something about you was so comfortable, safe, he wanted to stay forever, if this was what life had in store for him then he’d accept it with open arms.

“Good, cause I think I found that wire you needed”

His heart sinks in an instant, “You did?”

“I think so, was tucked back in the drawer”

“Oh, I’ll see if it’s the right one then”

You smile, turning back to the kettle that had begun whistling as Simon panics, it was too soon, he wanted more time, he needed to figure out a way to stay longer, something good that would keep him here at least a few more days.

“The bathrooms got mold in it” It was the best he could come up with, he hated lying to you.

“Huh?” You turn with your brows furrowed,

“The bathroom, noticed it last night, I can’t fix it if you’d like”

“Are you sure, I didn’t see any”

“Easy to miss sometimes, it’s just near the drain, shouldn’t take more than a day to clean up”

“Yeah sure, just let me know what you need”

He nods, fighting back a smile of success behind his mask, excusing himself from your direct line of sight before internally celebrating, before stopping to think to himself,

Now I’ve gotta figure out how to retile a shower.