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sundrop-writes · 2 months

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Careful - Chapter One

(Dad)Spencer Reid x (Mom)Fem!Reader

Chapter One: Over Yet

We can go farther, beyond the end.

Summary:

You and Spencer broke up more than four years ago. Since then, he has tried his best to forget about you. He has pushed all of his feelings down - locked them away into a little box that he never touches.

That is, until he sees your name on a list of potential victims being stalked and killed by a man who kills single mothers. (And he quickly realizes that your son could be his.)

Dad!Spencer Reid x Mom!Fem!Reader. Exes to Lovers. Angst.

Word Count: 5,900

Criminal Minds Masterlist | AO3 Link | Series Masterlist

Please keep in mind - I am not doing a taglist for this series, so please do not ask to be tagged in future parts. I do not do taglists. If you want to be notified when future parts of this fic are posted, you can follow this blog and turn on notifications here - I don't make personal posts on this blog, it is just pure posts of my fanfiction. Or you can subcribe on AO3 to get email notifications when this series is posted. You can also view the posting schedule on the series materlist and check @tenpintsof-sundrop for any information about possible changes to that schedule.

Detailed warnings and author's notes below the cut.

Warnings: general warnings for a Criminal Minds episode - mentions of murder/killing, somewhat graphic descriptions of killing, somewhat graphic descriptions of dead bodies, the underlying misogyny that comes with a man killing women, mentions of children being orphaned due to their mothers being killed (though there is no mentions of other living family members taking care of those children - you can imaging that they still have nice families to take care of them if you want, I didn’t fill in that detail), mentions of children being in proximity of a serial killer; exes to lovers - the reader and Spencer broke up and the reason why will be revealed later; mentions of pregnancy/mentions of the reader having a child; mentions of sex that resulted in a child/pregnancy (there is no detailed sex scenes/detailed smut in this chapter, but there will be in other chapters); mentions of JJ x Will; the reader’s looks are described as vaguely as possible; passing mention of incest (in the context of a historical figure); all statements that Spencer makes toward the end of this chapter were heavily researched and are factual; I think that’s about it?

A/N: The reader and Spencer originally dated around Season 1/Season 2 - I state at some point during the fic that they dated for 3 years before breaking up, so they started dating when he was very early Season 1 baby Spence (or even before Season 1) and they broke up around Season 2. So technically this fic takes place around Season 6 - but because I didn't want to distract from the plot, I didn't mention any of the stuff going on with Emily or any of those major canon plot points, and I am using pictures of later versions of Spencer just because that's who I was picturing in my head while writing this. But that's how the math works out. Anyway, I hope you enjoy the fic!! This chapter is more of an introduction before we really get into the meat of things, but I still hope that you guys like it.

...

The team had been in Portland for three days.

No leads, a confusing, inconsistent profile - huge pieces missing that would likely give them the real answers.

A patient killer with an extended timeline who likely wouldn’t kill again for months - leaving them chasing their tails, looking for answers.

“Okay, so, let’s take a step back.” Hotch sighed. “What do we know so far?”

He leaned against a nearby table, looking at everyone with the hope of reassessing the case from a different angle. The hope of talking it out to get some answers.

Another woman’s body had been found just before they arrived, and that would mean that the UnSub would be out hunting again soon. This was both good and bad.

Good, because the UnSub clearly had to spend a lot of time stalking his victims - he knew a lot of details of their lives, and he had spent a lot of time developing an intimate fantasy of being a part of their family in his mind. So he wouldn’t be killing again the next day. No woman was in immediate danger. It gave the team more time to find viable suspects.

Bad because they had no physical evidence, no good leads. And thus far, the profile was leading them nowhere. It felt incomplete.

They could find no real connections between the victims - their gyms, their banks, their childcare, their grocery stores. Somehow, the victims didn’t seem to have any crossover in their lives. There was no real way to say how the UnSub had met them. And someone like this - he would have interacted with them at least once in order to become obsessed and stalk them to this degree.

“Five women dead within the last three years.” Prentiss announced, starting to round up the facts that the team knew for certain. “All of them mothers, all with children under the age of five. All within the same ten square mile radius of Oregon, around Portland’s suburban neighborhoods.”

She slumped back into her chair with a tired huff, and then continued.

“The UnSub breaks into their homes through a backdoor or a back window, and somehow goes undetected in such an upscale neighborhood.” She sighed. “He kills the mothers, but he leaves their children alive. And then he calls 9-1-1 to report the death as a case of child neglect.”

“So he was likely neglected by his own mother in his childhood.” Morgan easily theorized.

“All of the victims upper-middle class, single mothers to one child with good jobs. All of them are of the same physical type.” Rossi added on. “They’re the same race, they have the hair color, they’re the same body type - all in their late twenties to early thirties. So the UnSub definitely has a type. He’s most definitely recreating a fantasy of some kind - perhaps taking out revenge on his own mother, but protecting himself. Which is why he never hurts the children.”

“Yeah, but the children are different.” Morgan replied. “Sometimes boys, sometimes girls. Some of them are biracial - he doesn’t look for a specific type in the father. He doesn’t necessarily need to see himself in the children.”

Then, as another thought occurred to him, Morgan continued on:

“Plus, the children’s ages vary from barely a year old all the way up to five - if he was looking to seek revenge on his mother, looking to protect a younger version of himself, then he would have locked in on a critical event that he needs to protect himself from. The age of the children would be more consistent, at least, because he would be looking to protect himself as he hits the age that he was most traumatized by a specific event.”

“That’s good.” Hotch nodded. “Then we know that it’s more about the mothers. He hates women at his core. Protecting the children is just a byproduct of his obsession over these women.”

“But we still have no clue how these women could be connected or how they met the UnSub.” Morgan replied, jaw stiff with frustration.

“Focus on what we do know.” Hotch reminded him.

“All of the women were killed via stabbing. They all had over a dozen stab wounds to their stomachs and genital areas.” Rossi replied. “So, he is an aggressive sexual sadist.”

“But if he hates women so much, why spend so much time in the house?” Morgan argued gently. “Every single one of these scenes has evidence that the UnSub spent hours - possibly up to a day in the house before he killed them. He cooked dinner, set the table, and made the women eat it before he killed them. Including a second place setting for a child. Some of the kids even said that ‘the scary man’ tucked them into bed and read them a story.”

He held up one of the crime scene photos that depicted the scene of the family’s place settings - a haunting scene of plates not cleaned up from dinner, with a flower vase sitting in the middle of the table with a few white flowers wilting inside of it.

“He’s right - why bother to show them the kindness of a last meal if he shows so much aggression toward them during the killing?” Prentiss added on.

“It’s a routine.” Hotch said, the thought suddenly occurring to him. “It’s likely that he chooses single mothers because he gets to play the role of the father. With the real father figure absent from the picture, it makes it easier for him to impose himself into that role. At least for a temporary amount of time.”

“It is strange.” Reid added on, clearly swimming in thought. “It’s almost like he’s courting them? Sending them gifts, showing what a good father he could be. Each of the women were sent white carnations sometime in the days before they were killed, and after the killing, he lays the flowers around their head in a halo-like fashion. It is said that carnations represent motherhood, and the white shade could depict an angelic innocence that he’s projecting onto these women.”

“So he views these women as angelic figures, yet he kills them so brutally?” Prentiss scoffed. “It just doesn’t add up.”

“Maybe he views the killing itself as a type of purification.” Reid theorized. “It’s not uncommon for killers to emotionally fetishize dead bodies and consider them more ‘pure’ than their living counterparts.”

Prentiss visibly cringed at this.

“Wait.” JJ said, looking at one of the crime scene photos with a sharp line pulling her brows together.

Everyone looked to her, waiting for her to finish this thought.

“I don’t think that the mothers were the only ones sent gifts.”

She held up the photo, showing a picture of a colorful child’s play mat in the living room. Everyone stared at the photo in confusion, and JJ sighed and began to explain.

“Look at this toy truck in the middle.” She said, pointing at something that almost blended into the background of the photo. The true focus was a large handprint - one that belonged to the killer, but he had worn gloves. “It’s wooden, it’s hand-carved, it’s old fashioned. All the other toys are plastic, brightly coloured. Remember what the UnSub said in the second 9-1-1 call?”

“‘She pretends to have her son’s best interests at heart, but she was going to let him get cancer from sucking on those cheap plastic toys.’” Reid said, repeating it word-for-word, using his impeccable memory.

“Exactly.” JJ confirmed with a nod. “Clearly the UnSub believes that he would be a good father because he can gift his child something hand-made instead of something mass produced.”

“Alright, get the crime scene techs back over there to pick up the truck, maybe he wasn’t wearing gloves when he made it and there is some slim chance he left a print on it.” Hotch said, and JJ left to call the crime scene unit.

This left the team sitting in silence for a few more moments until Reid spoke up again.

“What about preschools?” He said, suddenly coming out of a wave of thought to announce this to the room.

“What?” Prentiss prompted, wondering what on earth he was talking about.

“Preschools.” Spencer confirmed, looking across the table at her.

“We checked already, none of the victims’ children went to the same preschool.” Morgan reminded him. “Two of the kids didn’t even go to preschool.”

“Yeah, but preschools typically have large waitlists.” Spencer argued.

Naturally, all eyes in the room fell on him, waiting for him to explain.

“In the first 9-1-1 call, the UnSub said that the victim ‘shipped her son off to be cared for by strangers half the time’.” He explained, once again perfectly reciting this from memory. “What if the UnSub resents preschools and the schooling system for taking these children away from their mothers, so he’s choosing his victims off of a preschool waitlist? What if that’s where his obsession stems from because that’s where his rage stems from?”

Reid jumped up, pointing to the map he had been using to make a geographical profile.

“All of the victims live within the same school district.” He added on. “So they would be applying to the same group of preschools.”

“I’ll call Garcia.” Morgan announced.

A few minutes later, Morgan connected Garcia’s call to the comm on the center of the conference table they were working from.

“Hey, pumpkin pies.” She greeted them sweetly, as usual. “So it turns out, the preschool that Tommy Laird, and Emily Ashton, the third and the fourth victim had in common, does have a waitlist. But none of the other victims’ names were on it.”

“Come on, babygirl. I know you’re holding out on me.” Morgan said, giving a small smirk.

“Oh, my Adonis, if I don’t have your trembling anticipation, I have nothing.” Garcia giggled. “The school’s waitlist, and their applications, are handled by a firm called Gordon & Stanheight. And it turns out, they handle the applications and waitlisting for five other preschools in the area.”

“Which gives the UnSub a perfect way to pick his victims.” Morgan sighed. “The first interaction that gets him hooked might not even be in person-”

“Unless he’s picking them out of the line-up on paper and then waiting to meet them in person?” Prentiss replied. “With this type of guy, the smallest smile, a nod in his direction - that could be consent in his mind to play father to a household that’s missing one.”

“You said they handle forms for five different schools? That just widened the victim pool.” Rossi groaned.

“And the suspect pool.” Garcia added on. “The firm has thirty male employees. And I did a bit more digging - the preschool applications have ten ‘optional’ questions on the bottom that are definitely not marked as such. Questions directed at the parent filling out the form, rather than vital information about the child. Things such as: ‘what’s your favorite food?’, ‘when is your birthday?’, ‘what’s your favorite color?’, ‘do you plan on having more children?’ - typical survey schlock,”

“That would explain why the UnSub served Lisa Laird a birthday cake.” Reid sighed. “He knew it was her birthday two days before he killed her.”

“I have a feeling I’m not gonna like where this is going.” Emily sighed.

“Oh, sugar. You probably won’t.” Penelope easily agreed. “The ‘optional’ part of the forms is sold off to other companies as survey data. And those forms are seen and handled by over a thousand male employees of Gordon & Stanheight’s larger ‘data processing’ sector.”

“Well the UnSub has to be local to Portland. So narrow down the suspect list based on his last known address and go from there.” Hotch said. “Also, it would be someone who has a criminal record. Someone committing this level of violence wouldn’t be a first time offender.”

“Gotcha.” Penelope said. “Penny G, out.”

…

The team ended up raiding Gordon & Stanheight’s Portland based office.

After some pointless conversation, some threats of lawsuits, and some even larger threats of being detained for impeding an FBI investigation, the team was able to get their hands on the preschool applications. Over two-dozen boxes worth, that they would have to sort through.

So this left JJ, Reid, Hotch, Rossi, Morgan, and Prentiss knee deep in paper, looking for anyone who fit the UnSub’s victimology - praying that they would be able to pick out the next victim and get to her before the UnSub did.

“We’re never gonna get through these fast enough, are we?” Prentiss sighed, continuing to sift through the papers.

“We just have to go as fast as we can, and hope the UnSub sticks to his schedule.” Morgan replied. “He has to spend time stalking them, learning their routine. Even if he has chosen his victim by now, he won’t break into the house until he’s fully confident that he won’t be disrupted.”

“And the stalking helps build up the fantasy.” Reid added on. “He romanticizes them from afar, sends them gifts. It adds to his delusions of grandeur and forbidden love. The idea that he’s swooping in to become the perfect father figure for these ‘broken’ families.”

“So we’re hanging all our hopes on the idea that this psychopath needs time to ‘fall in love’ with his next victim before he kills her?” Prentiss groaned.

“Sadly, yes.” Rossi confirmed.

“It helps that most of these applications are from two-parent households.” JJ pointed out. “We can throw out anything with a second applicant on the form, because he’s only targeting single mothers.”

The rest of the conversation easily became quiet in Spencer’s ears when he saw it.

It should have been just another page among the sea of paper in his hands, but when he saw those words on the page - that name - it was like a punch to the gut. It pushed all the air out of him in seconds, it made him dizzy, made him struggle to breathe. Like a reel flashing through his mind, it brought back a flood of memories he thought he had locked away forever.

It was you.

What the hell were you doing applying for preschools?

Spencer rushed to tear this paper away from the others in order to read it more carefully.

Surely enough, the application was filled out in your handwriting. Something that had barely changed over the years. And it was all right there, laid out in front of his eyes, clear as day -

You had a son.

A son named Sebastian, who was three years old. Spencer checked the date on the form, eagerly looking for a birth date for your son. His birthday had just recently passed, actually, so he was four years old now.

And his birth date was… fuck.

He had been born eight and a half months, almost nine months exactly after the two of you had broken up. Your son had been born eight and a half months after the day you had left and Spencer had never seen you again.

One thousand, seven hundred and two days.

Four years, eight months, and two days.

It wasn’t difficult math.

Your son was the perfect age to be Spencer’s child. Was this Spencer’s child?

His hands began to shake at the very thought of it.

Is that why you had disappeared from his life with such haste? Because you knew that you were pregnant and you didn’t want Spencer to be a part of your child’s life?

Had you been keeping this from him intentionally?

He hadn’t thought about you in four long years, he had tried so hard not to. He had spent so long forcing himself not to miss you, and now he was struck with the realization that he might have a child out there with the woman he considered to be his regrettable lost love. A child he didn’t know - a child who he had missed four whole years with.

What the fuck was going on?

There were no pictures included with the application, and suddenly, Spencer found himself dying to see the boy. He wanted to know if there was any physical resemblance to himself, or if he was jumping to conclusions.

Maybe you had cheated on him. Maybe that was why you had left town and never contacted him again. Maybe the kid wasn’t his at all, maybe-

“Reid.” JJ called out gently, getting his attention.

Spencer suddenly realized that he was hyperventilating, staring down at the application with your name on it in his hand, wrinkling the paper as he squeezed it more frantically.

“Did you find something?”

…

All in all, the team found four different women who fit the victim pattern in the files - you being one of them.

So the team split up, ready to knock on each of the womens’ doors, preparing to warn them that if they received any gifts or saw any suspicious men lingering around them in the next few days, they should call. They had to hope that the UnSub wouldn’t move on from this victim pool if he saw the FBI around. But he was overly confident, he had contacted police before.

It could definitely work.

When Hotch found out that Spencer had known you, he said that Spencer should be the one to knock on your door. That you might find it comforting to hear that you and your child could possibly be in danger if it were coming from ‘an old friend’. Spencer stuttered over himself and didn’t have the words to explain that you weren’t just a good friend to him, but a romantic flame. He didn’t want to embarrass himself in front of the team by telling everyone that the break-up had been messy, and sudden, and Spencer still wasn’t even completely sure what had caused it. He didn’t want to rip open his old wounds in front of everyone.

So he simply shut his mouth and got in the car with JJ, and they made their way toward your house.

…

“So…” JJ’s voice broke through the undulating silence of the car ride - filled by nothing but the sound of the car’s motor running and gears grinding inside Spencer’s mind as he tried to figure all of this out. “I do have to ask the obvious question,”

“What is that?” Spencer probed, slightly glad to be relieved of his own thoughts.

He wasn’t so glad when JJ pried those thoughts out of his mind and spilled them to the open air.

“Is the kid yours?” She wondered aloud. “I mean - when did you and Y/N break up?”

JJ had known you as Spencer’s girlfriend.

Come to think of it, she was probably the only person on the current field team who had some kind of a relationship with you back when you and Spencer dated.

Initially, it had been by accident. JJ had driven him home one night after a particularly long and sleepless case, and you had been coming to his apartment to drop off some books he had asked for (shortly after he had given you a key). When JJ saw you, her natural curiosity got the better of her - even more so when you stuck out your hand and introduced yourself as ‘Spencer’s girlfriend’ without hesitation.

The two of you got to talking, and JJ invited you to ‘girls night’. You met Elle and Penelope shortly after. You had become pretty good friends with the three of them before the break-up.

But Spencer had always felt secretive…. well, protective of you. He didn’t want Morgan teasing him about you, or him wanting to have ‘guy talk’ about things that occurred in the bedroom. Not when it might mean talking about intimate moments with you. Spencer had only introduced you to Gideon over coffee about three weeks before the break-up, and that felt like a lifetime ago.

Back then, having you, Elle, and Gideon leave his life all in a matter of a few months felt like hell on earth. It felt like being grabbed by his ankles and shaken for all he was worth. He really wasn’t sure that he was ready to see you again.

It had been four years.

JJ was someone he could lean on right now.

“Four years ago.” He told her, completely honest.

“And how old is the kid?” JJ asked.

“Four - four years old.” Spencer stuttered out, realizing that now as he was speaking about this very real possibility, he might be breathing more life into it.

“Oh my god.” JJ sighed. “Well… could it-? I mean…? Did the two of you?”

It took Spencer a moment to clue into what JJ was talking about. He gave her a sideways glance and she took her eyes off the road for a moment, raising her brows and giving him a pointed look.

“Please tell me you know what does and what doesn’t make a baby,” JJ groaned.

“Oh!” Spencer huffed, a small wave of embarrassment flooding him. “Yes! God, yes. I know.”

There was a moment of awkward silence, and then Spencer felt the need to clarify his answer.

“We - I mean. We…” He trailed off for a moment, clearing his throat. “We didn’t always use… protection. We were together for three years, at the time, it was on the table.”

“Kids were on the table for you back then?” JJ asked, clearly shocked by this. “I could not imagine little twenty-four year old Spence with a baby.”

“Well… it’s something I’ve always wanted.” He mumbled quietly in reply.

It was true. At the time, Spencer easily imagined himself getting married to you, having multiple kids with you. These days, seeing JJ with Henry and Will brought him the occasional underlying pang of jealousy - but since breaking up with you, there hadn’t been anyone else in Spencer’s life that he could have imagined having kids with. He thought that he was going to be alone and childless for the rest of his life. That the dream was long dead for him.

“Hey - then, maybe this is a blessing in disguise?” JJ posed. “If we hadn’t been looking through those forms because of this UnSub, you never would have found Y/N again. You wouldn’t even know this baby exists.”

There was another thing that JJ was dying to ask - something she held back because she felt like it was a touch too personal. (Even if ‘too personal’ was basically how the BAU team lived - knee deep in each other’s business, all the time).

She wanted to know why you had a baby, a baby that Spencer had very likely fathered, and you hadn’t contacted him about it. Spencer seemed entirely clueless about the child’s existence before now, and JJ knew that because of what his own father had been like, he wouldn’t just blow off a kid that was his if he knew that one was out there in the world.

So why hadn’t you told Spencer about the baby?

“What if the kid isn’t yours?” JJ wondered aloud.

Maybe that would unburden him. She knew that either way, Spencer would fight to protect you from the UnSub. But if the kid wasn’t his - he would walk away again, and he wouldn’t have to be hung up on the heartbreak of dealing with his ex just to parent a child together.

“Honestly… I think I’ll be more heartbroken if I find out that he’s not even mine.” Spencer told her, his voice quiet and already lulling with that disappointment.

That was not something JJ had considered. She frowned as she saw the sadness paint across Spencer’s face.

“One thing at a time, alright?”

…

When they pulled into your driveway, Spencer’s mind immediately began churning.

It was a nice house. It was a beautiful, quiet neighborhood. The front yard was clean and trimmed and there was a silver SUV in the driveway with a ‘baby on board’ sticker in the rear window. There was a rocking chair on the porch, but he didn’t see many children’s toys out front on the lawn. He guessed that was a good thing. Letting children play in the front where they could run into the street and potentially get hit by a car was too dangerous. He was glad to already see signs that you were a good mother.

Spencer felt like he was opening up a book halfway, desperately wanting to be filled in on the previous chapters while having missed so much. Still wanting to read ahead and see more.

He had already missed so much of your son’s life. He had missed you. That was something forming the biggest knot in his gut. He had truly missed you. The times he had allowed himself to think of you over these past few years - he had missed you so dearly.

And now the two of you likely had a child together.

Craning his neck to get a better look, desperately trying to take in more information, Spencer’s eyes were wide and hungry as JJ put the car in park by the curb in front of your house. As Spencer reached for the passenger side door handle, JJ’s phone rang.

“I have to take this.” She sighed. “You go ahead.”

She gave Spencer a distinct look that said ‘I know you need a minute alone with Y/N’, and he nodded, stepping out of the vehicle while she greeted whoever was on the other line. He smoothed down his tie - for once in his whole life, he was actually worried about how he looked. Only because he knew that he was going to see you. Perhaps he had only ever felt like this before going on his first date with you.

He had such a strange lashing of emotions going through him as he approached the door. Fear, anxiety, anticipation. Longing.

He truly had tried so hard to lock away his feelings for you when you had left. He had tried to move on. He had considered, briefly, in passing, dating other women. There had been times when someone else caught his eye, and he considered asking her out on a date. Morgan had offered to ‘set him up’. Penelope had offered too, telling him that he deserved to ‘get back out there’.

Whenever she asked about you, his heart freshly cracked open.

At one point, she had advised him to write a long, Shakespearian letter, pouring out his heart to you in an effort to get you back - one which she would mail. (Because of course, she could get your new address in a heartbeat.) But he didn’t want to experience the heartbreak all over again if you ignored him. He didn’t want to sit, waiting by the mailbox every single day like a lost dog, waiting for you to write him back in return.

You had disappeared from his life for a reason. Just like everyone else had. For a long time, Spencer convinced himself that he was simply meant to end up alone.

Perhaps if he had known about your son - a child that could very well be his - then he might have felt differently about getting Penelope to contact you.

But now he was standing at your front door, his fist shaking as he raised his hand to knock.

He let out a sharp breath and steadied himself, giving three swift, firm knocks against the door and then trying to wait patiently. His heart thumped inside of his throat, and it felt like forever.

“Sorry!” Your voice called out from behind the door, muffled. “Sorry, I almost didn’t hear you. I was-”

You cut off your own words as you opened the door - the moment you caught Spencer’s eye and recognized it was him, pure shock fell across your features, and you froze on the spot.

You were just as stunning as ever. You had barely aged at all - your hair was different than the last time he had seen you, of course. And you were dressed casually - wearing a simple hooded sweatshirt with a drawstring and a pair of jeans with some fuzzy slipper boots on. But pale blue looked so good on you.

So much like the pale blue dress you had worn on your first date with him.

You were breath-taking.

“Y/N.” He greeted you, his throat dry already.

You didn’t say anything, simply continuing to stare him down with wide-eyed shock.

Seeing you again, Spencer couldn’t help but to think back to that first date.

The first night that he knew he was in love with you.

…

He had taken you to see the Virginia Symphony Orchestra.

It was Spencer’s idea of a good time - and it ended up being one of the most beautiful, most romantic, most unique first dates that you had ever been on.

It was difficult not to fall for him with the beautiful music in the air and his glossy eyes, so sickeningly thick with affection, staring you down all night.

Afterwards, the two of you stopped to get ice cream at a small shop that was a short walk down from the orchestra. And now you were both enjoying your ice cream as you walked along in the cool night air - enjoying the peace and quiet and the gentle breeze in the darkness.

It was a perfect night.

Spencer could think of no better way to spend it than with you. The yellow bulbs of the street lights practically cast a glow onto your skin, the mulberry lipstick now worn off your lips as you brought the pink spoon to your mouth and licked up your sweet treat.

His stomach was churning with nerves. Joyous nerves.

And as per usual, when he was nervous - he rambled.

“You know, Bach actually married his cousin.” He said, spouting off the first thing that came to mind.

You told him that Bach was one of your favorite composers - it’s why he had thought to bring you to the orchestra on a date in the first place.

“I did not know that.” You giggled. “So what? Was it like a ‘third cousin twice removed’ type situation?”

Spencer found himself grinning at the fact that you actually engaged him in the conversation, rather than staring at him with an odd look for bringing up such a strange topic.

“Not quite.” He replied. “They had the same surname before marriage.”

“Oh, ew.” You chuckled again, giving a shudder at the thought of this.

Spencer knew it was an odd topic to discuss on a date, and if he rambled on too much, it might freak you out - but he couldn’t stop himself. His mouth ran away with him, and he continued.

“He married Maria Barbara Bach, and they had seven children together.” He told you. “His sons, Wilhelm Friedemann and Carl Philipp Emanuel became composers and musicians much like their father, which was actually carrying on a legacy started by Bach’s father himself - who was a seventh generation musician. He was the one who taught Bach the organ from a very young age.”

“Why don’t people play the organ anymore?” You wondered aloud. “Except in churches, I guess. The organ rocks.”

Spencer’s brain began rocketing off at the fact that you had asked him a question. A question he could answer.

“The organ has actually long been associated with divinity.” He replied. “The instrument rose in popularity alongside Catholicism throughout the eighteenth century, and in a sense, that was part of what made Bach a sort of ‘rockstar’ of his time. The religious references in his work, and his mastery of the organ - all of it made him incredibly popular at the time because it caused him to be favored by the church and by royal figures associated with the church.”

Spencer gleamed a large smile, heavily enjoying that he could share these facts with you. He thought for certain that any moment, you would change the subject or imply that he should stop talking. But instead, you engaged the conversation more.

“Religious references?” You questioned, wondering what he meant by this.

“Yes!” Spencer grinned, suddenly very excited by the explanation behind this. “Even in his secular music, Bach would often incorporate the acronym ‘INJ’, a Latin abbreviation that means ‘In Nomine Jesu’, or ‘in the name of Jesus’. It was something he put on all of his manuscripts.”

You grinned back. You found it fascinating that being around Spencer for such short periods of time caused you to learn so many things. It easily made you want to be around him more.

“Interesting.” You replied.

“And his talent on the organ was seen as something that made him ‘divine’ at the time. Divine enough to be worthy of performing for royalty.” Spencer added on. “In 1708, Bach got a position as the court organist in Weimer for Duke Wilhelm. And later when he requested early release from this position, desiring to go work for Prince Leopold of Koethen, the Duke actually had him arrested and put in jail for several weeks in 1716.”

Spencer laughed at this mental image - the composer being put in jail.

“Ooh, harsh.” You sighed. “But I guess Dukes have too much power.”

Spencer let out another bright laugh at this.

“And see, the interesting thing is, Bach later became the conductor of the court orchestra, in which Prince Leopold played.”

“So he got his wish,” You replied with a smile.

“And see-”

Spencer set off on another rant again, and you couldn’t help yourself. You put your spoon into the cup of ice cream and then you used your now free hand to reach out and grab Spencer by his tie - you pulled him toward you before he could get anymore words out, and he let out a shocked, choked-off sound when you pressed your mouth into his.

He sighed gently against your lips, and unconsciously dropped his own melting chocolate cone on the ground by his feet as his limp hands drifted toward your waist. He was dizzy, and now every single fact he had ever known about any composer had vanished from his head. In that moment, standing under a random street lamp on a random sidewalk somewhere - all he knew was the soft, pillowy feeling of your lips and the cool night breeze against his skin.

It was perfect. You were perfect.

You found his intelligence and the enthusiasm with which he spoke to be so utterly irresistible. You had been on so many dates with men before where they had acted like talking about their interests was a chore. Where they had made it seem like the whole thing was simply a routine, waiting for the end of the night so they could get into your pants. And for them, that’s what it probably was.

But Spencer was nothing like that.

He spoke about everything with such intense passion - and you couldn’t resist the urge to try and suck that very passion off his lips.

When you were forced to pull back slightly, your lungs crying out for oxygen, Spencer let out a gentle moan and began puffing out sweet little pants across your chin as he tried to catch his breath. You kept a hold of his tie, wanting to keep him close, and he stayed there, gently pressing his forehead against yours.

“That was… wow.” He sighed.

“I didn’t think I would ever find you at a loss for words, Doctor Reid.” You replied with a giggle.

“Well, I - you - wow.”

It was all he could muster, causing you both to break down into laughter.

Back then - everything had been perfect.

He had no clue where it all went so wrong.

...

Continue reading: Chapter Two - Liar

#sundrop writes #spencer reid #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid x you #dad!spencer reid #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid smut #spencer reid fanfiction #criminal minds #criminal minds fanfiction #criminal minds x you #criminal minds x reader #criminal minds fic

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theemporium · 5 months

Text

[2.4k] when pictures from a past relationship come to light, the whole world decide to weigh in what they think. but it's your boyfriend who is right by your side, knowing who you are and who he loves. it's you and him against a world of scrutiny, hate and jealousy.

based of this request!

You were honestly surprised you hadn’t chucked up the contents of your stomach in the toilet yet, though you suspected you were close to doing so soon.

It was meant to be a normal day. It had started off as a normal day. By some grace of a superior being above, you had the Monday off and you had spent most of the morning just lazing around the flat. You tidied, you sorted out a food shop, you did the laundry you had been holding off on for the weekend. You sorted the place out a little in preparation for Lando coming home.

You hadn’t been able to fly out and join him due to some projects you were working on for university. You decided it would be easier to stay home to finish them off, and Lando respected it even if he pouted incessantly before he left in hopes you would change your mind.

He had messaged you that his flight would be landing later that afternoon, so when lunchtime came and you were fighting back a yawn, you saw no harm in a nap. You had been curled up on the couch in one of his hoodies and a thick blanket over your body, slowly blinking as you tried to focus on the documentary playing on the tv but it was a losing battle.

You didn’t even know what time it was when you woke up. All you knew was that you could hear your phone buzzing and pinging and it was hard to enjoy the warm comfort of sleep when you could have sworn the whole building could hear your phone. You blindly reached for it, your vision still bleary when you peaked them open and saw more notifications than you ever had in your life.

Your heart stopped when you saw the notifications spread across all your social media platforms.

But it dropped to your stomach when you saw the reason behind your trending name.

It was a series of misconceptions, twisted lies and bitter words that were overwhelming your phone screen. Every tweet was worse than the last, every insult stung a little more, every stranger thinking they had a place to say or assume anything about you absolutely fucking sucked.

And you get it. You were dating someone in the spotlight, it was stupid to assume you could stay in the shadows. You could handle being photographed in the paddock. You could handle fans wanting to follow you on social media. You could handle people tagging you in cute edits and wholesome posts. You could even handle the offhand hate you knew most people only posted due to jealousy.

But this? This was something else.

SLUT. WHORE. CHEATER. CLOUT CHASER. DISGUSTING.

The words were blurred and intertwined between photos that you recognised, photos that were indeed yours. They were photos from mere months before you met Lando, making them recent in the eyes of the public. They were photos that shouldn’t be posted for someone who’s happily in a relationship.

Your vision welled with tears, your breathing became erratic and every part of you knew you should’ve just thrown your phone across the room, but you couldn’t bring yourself to do it. You couldn’t bring yourself to stop reading all the comments. You couldn’t bring yourself to stop putting yourself through that pain.

You felt like your whole life was being thrown in your face.

Suddenly, all your female friendships and interactions were being analysed and scrutinised. They were pulling up pictures with friends from over the years, pointing out the ‘obvious’ signs that they should have noticed before. They were pulling up comments you had left on friends’ posts, claiming that you were blindly unfaithful to Lando for everyone to see.

Suddenly, your integrity to your relationship with Lando was being questioned. They didn’t see you as a fit match for the Brit. You didn’t fit the mould of a perfect WAG. You were an anomaly, you couldn’t be trusted, you weren’t good enough for him.

Suddenly, every piece of your life was being torn up, criticised under a microscope and judged for the whole world to voice their opinions on.

Suddenly, you weren’t a human anymore. You were just an object for them to throw their insults, judgements and abuse at. They didn’t care for an explanation or a response or a story, they had made their minds and they seemed inclined to push that narrative to anybody who would listen. And that narrative only seemed to be solidified by the fact you had missed the most recent race weekend.

Everything blurred into a mess.

You didn’t know at what point you slid off the couch and curled up on the floor, or when the sun started to set outside. You didn’t know when your thumb started to cramp from scrolling, or when the strain behind your eyes started to become more stabbing and irritating. You didn’t know what time it was, or even acknowledge the sound of the door lock turning.

“Babe?”

It was like a distant sound, like your head was underwater.

“Baby?”

And a part of you wanted to say something, to open your mouth but you couldn’t even bring yourself to utter a word.

“Hello?!”

And then, like the fogginess had been lifted away, he was kneeling in front of you. He was in front of you, his expression hinting confusion and his brows furrowing in concern and his touch was so soft and gentle as he reached out towards you.

“I–” A choked noise left your lips, like the words got stuck in your throat and muddled together. But it was enough for Lando to wrap his arms around you, pulling you into his chest. And as much as your mind reeled at the idea, your body sunk into his embrace.

“Hey, hey, shhhh,” he cooed in a gentle voice as his arms tightened around her even more. “It’s okay. Take your time. There’s no rush.”

And it felt twisted, in a weird sick way. Here he was, comforting you and holding you and reassuring you. Here he was doing to you what you should be doing to him as you reassure him everything wasn’t what it seemed, that they don’t have the facts—that nobody believed the truth, that you would never cheat on him in a million years.

“It—” You took in a gasping breath, your lungs burning for some fresh air. “It—It’s not….it’s not true. I-I promise. Lando—”

He pulled back, the crease between his brows deepening slightly as he looked even more discombobulated than he did moments ago. “What? Baby, what are you on about?”

You froze, your body tensed in his arms as a wave of discomfort washed over you when you realised he had no idea. He hadn’t seen the pictures. He hadn’t seen the comments. He had no idea, and somehow, that made it even worse.

Scenes flashed before your eyes of him looking through them, of him seeing them for the first time. An image played in your head of his gentle comfort quickly turning into bitter anger. You imagined him pulling away, scoffing, tearing up. You imagined him believing them instead of hearing you out.

You imagined him saying the same bullshit the rest of the world was saying.

And deep down, you knew he never would. That’s not who he was, that’s not your Lando. But for a split second where fear clouded your judgement and your stomach twisted in discomfort, you imagined that maybe your boy was capable of the same hatred that tainted the world.

“Baby?” You heard his voice gently calling out, dragging you back into the moment as coldness seeped into your body. The concern was back again, overwhelming and engulfing and something quite like guilt bubbled inside you about the whole thing for reasons you were unsure of.

“I was in a relationship before I met you!”

The words were blurted out, a few beats of silence passing between you before Lando even seemed to react to the outburst. He nodded, his hands still holding onto you like he was keeping you together.

“Yeah,” he murmured, nodding his head. “I know, babe. I was in a relationship before I met you too.”

“No, I—” You shook your head, letting out a shaky breath. “A few months before we met, I…was seeing someone.”

“Okay…baby, I’m not gonna lie to you, I don’t know where this is going or what this has to do with why you’re upset,” Lando admitted, something in his chest aching at the sight of your puffy, red eyes.

“Because,” you took a moment to pause, to bask in the few moments before you felt like your life was truly about to hit the fan. “Because she was a girl. I…I was with a girl before I met you. Well, she isn’t the only one I have dated, but she was the most recent one and some pictures got leaked and the world seems to think I just used you and—”

“Deep breaths, babe, deep breaths,” he said in a soft but commanding voice, watching the way your chest heaved with the staggered breaths. “Just like that f’me.”

“Lando,” you whispered, your whole body practically shaking from the overwhelming emotions inside you whilst he remained completely calm.

“I’m sorry,” he murmured, and this time it was your turn to be confused.

“What?” You blinked a few times. “Why are you apologising?”

“Because being with me puts you in a spotlight you didn’t ask for. It makes people think they have some right to snoop around in your life and voice their opinions on it,” he confessed as his hands stroked down your arms before taking both your hands in his. “I’m sorry I have put you in that position. And I’m sorry they don’t value your privacy, I can understand how upsetting that is when you never asked for this kind of attention.”

“I—”

Yet, you cut yourself off for a short moment. His words weren’t completely false. It was a big change in your life from going as a nobody to a somebody for such a large group of people. It was weird having aspects of your life picked apart. It was weird that people felt they were so entitled to parts of your life. But out of everything you said, the fact he was holding onto that alone made you almost feel like you were going insane.

“And you’re…I just…” You shook your head, looking down at your joined hands where Lando’s thumbs were tracing random circles on your palms. “And me being with a woman is okay?”

Lando frowned a little. “Why wouldn’t it be?”

And it was such a simple question.

Because he was right. Why should it be such a problem? Why shouldn’t it be okay? Why should you having previously been with a woman be such a scandal or detail to latch onto?

And maybe it was the years of feeling like you needed to hide who you truly were. Or maybe it was the shifts in behaviour whenever you did open up about your sexuality to someone. Or maybe it was all the times it was held over your head that made you feel like you had to keep it a secret, that you had to hide the truth, that you had to make sure the least amount of people in the world knew that you were attracted to men and women because of the countless people who made you feel utterly shit in every being secure in that fact alone.

Maybe it was the realisation that there were people out there—people like your Lando—who would accept you without any questions asked because whilst your sexuality is a part of you, it’s not your whole identity.

“I don’t know,” you breathed out, a shake in your voice as the overwhelming urge to cry once again washed over you. “People just said—”

In seconds, Lando pulled his hands away from your grip and raised them to hold your face, the touch gentle but comforting as his thumb swiped away the few stray tears that ran down your cheeks. He gave you a soft smile, and something about it seemed to ease some of the tightness in your chest.

“People are gonna say a lot of things, that is an unfortunate reality I have come to learn over the years. But, the only people’s opinions who should matter to you are those of the people you love and the ones who know you,” he spoke, everything about his presence so soothing in contrast to how you were before he arrived. “I know you, baby. And I know what kind of person you are and how amazing you are. And I know that people can say what they fucking want about you, but I know the truth.”

You let out a small, breathless laugh.

“I’m sorry they made you feel like something was wrong with you,” he continued, a small frown on his face as he uttered the words. “Baby, it’s a part of who you are. And I love every part of you. And if you like men and women, then so be it. I am just grateful that I am one of the people you have decided to love,” he confessed to you, something like a cheesy grin on his face when he said it. “I am one of the luckiest fucking guys about because of it.”

“I love you,” you murmured, your eyes falling shut as he rested his forehead against yours,

“I love you too, baby,” he murmured back, his nose brushing against your affectionately until he saw your lips twitch upwards. And just when the silence had passed for a few moments, he spoke up again. “Plus, I haven’t seen the photos but I am pretty confident in saying that I am probably way hotter than your ex—”

You snorted, the noise loud and unbashful but it made your boyfriend grin at you as you tried to stop yourself from grinning.

“You’re impossible,” you grumbled, laughing as you shook your head.

“Yeah, but I’m right,” he replied with a cheeky smile, so boyish and so Lando.

“You’re much hotter,” you reassured him, even if you rolled your eyes a bit.

“Knew it,” Lando grinned as he leaned down to kiss you, finally happy to give in to the one thing he had been craving to do since he left over a week ago, with social media and the world a distant thought in both of your heads for the time being.

Lando knew you and loved you, and that was all that mattered.

#lando norris #formula one #f1 #lando norris x reader #lando norris x you #lando norris x y/n #lando norris fic #lando norris one shot #formula one x reader #formula one x you #formula one x y/n #formula one fic #formula one one shot #f1 x reader #f1 x you #f1 x y/n #f1 fic #f1 one shot

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spdrwdw · 6 months

Text

Art by marmar0u on instagram

Pairing: GhostFace!Miguel x f!reader

warnings: 18+, Smut, Roleplay, oral (m/f receiving) , unprotected intercourse, hair-pulling, choking, no use of y/n, slight hair pulling

Summary: It's Halloween and you in for a trick and treat of your life.

A/N: Thank you to the anon who requested GhostFace! Miguel! Sorry if this on kinda sucks. I'm not good with writing scary, suspenseful stuff lol. I did use some of the dialogue from the first movie and tweaked it a bit. If you want to be tagged in my future fics, just let me know! Or, you can also turn on notifications for my page and get notified whenever I post. I hope everyone enjoys and have a safe and fun Halloween!

Word Count: 2.8k ( I promise I'll make my fics longer one day)

☆*:.｡. o .｡.:*☆ ☆*:.｡. o .｡.:*☆ ☆*:.｡. o .｡.:*☆ ☆*:.｡. o .｡.

It was Halloween night, and you were home alone. The tv was on, playing some random scary movie. You had music also playing in the background.

Trick-or-treaters would be constantly ringing the doorbell. At first, you thought about simply leaving the bowl of candy by the doorstep, but you loved seeing all the costumes the kids and teenagers were wearing.

You were wearing a costume, yourself. A simple angel. Nothing too flashy since you were simply handing out candy. Just a halo and wings in a white t-shirt and white shorts. You wore your more “suggestive” costume at last weekend’s Halloween party a friend threw.

While making your way to the kitchen to make yourself some popcorn, you heard your cell phone ring. It was a number you’ve never seen before, but it had your area code, so you decided to pick it up.

“Hello?”

“Hello?” A voice on the other end responded.

“Yes?” You replied back.

“Who is this?”

“Who are you trying to reach?” You asked, slightly confused.

“What number is this?”

“What number are you trying to reach?” Honestly. Dude dialed the number, right?

“I don’t know.” Ugh.

“Well, I think you have the wrong number. It happens. Take it easy,” and with that, you ended the call and began to head back to the microwave to check on the popcorn before your phone rang again.

Reaching back over for it, you checked the caller ID. It was the same number. Should you pick it up? At first, you thought about letting it ring but, eh, whatever. You answered it.

“Hello?”

“I’m sorry. I guess I dialed the wrong number,” the same guy on the other end responded.

“So why did you dial it again?” You asked.

“To apologize,” he replied.

“Well, you’re forgiven. Bye, now.”

“Wait! wait. Don’t hang up. I want to talk to you for a sec.”

“Why?” Okay, this was getting a little weird. You really should just hang up.

“Just want to know a little more about you. How about telling me your name?” He asked. “I’ll tell you my name if you tell me yours.”

“Yeah, I don’t think so,” you rolled your eyes, shaking your head.

“Well, do you have a boyfriend?” He changed the subject.

“Why? Do you want to ask me out on a date?”

“Maybe? Do you have a boyfriend?”

“No,” as if you were going to give this guy a truthful response. Plus, you did have a boyfriend, so you wouldn’t have accepted either way.

“You never told me your name.” There he goes again, asking for your name.

You were now walking around your house, organizing some things as you entertained this weirdo.

“Why do you want to know my name?” No really. Why?

“Because I want to know who I’m looking at.”

What?

You suddenly stopped, feeling your heart drop.

“What did you say?” Your voice now grew quiet.

“I want to know who I’m talking to.”

“That’s not what you said,” you pointed out as you began making your way around the house, turning more lights on, as well as the lights from your back porch. You really should hang up and call the police if this guy was stalking you from somewhere.

“Then what did you think I said?” He asked. You could feel your heart pounding in your chest.

“What do you want?” You knew if you hung up now, he would just call back. So, you made another round around the house to make sure everything was closed and locked.

“I just want to know your name.”

“You don’t need to know my name. Now what do you want from me?” You questioned.

“I just wanted to talk. Maybe go out together on a date.”

Now you were peaking through the curtains, making sure no one was actually outside. Which was futile since there were still a lot of people out trick-or-treating. Maybe he was just messing around. But, you wanted to be sure.

“Can you see me?” He suddenly asked.

How did he know you were looking for him? “Listen, I am two seconds away from calling the police.” Your voice was now shaky, as well as your body.

“They’d never make it in time. It’s Halloween. Probably think you’re prank calling them or something.”

“What do you want?” You asked, your voice cracking and tears welling over your eyes.

The line was quiet for a second, then you heard him chuckle.

“To see what your insides feel like.”

The line disconnected, and there was a sudden flicker of the lights. He was here. He had to be.

You were checking every single closet and door, your heart beating fast, panicking. Where was he? He had to be somewhere in your house.

Your cell phone rang again. You didn’t bother to check the number. You knew it was him.

“What do you want?” You asked, your voice shaking as you struggled to hold the phone in your hand.

No response.

“This isn’t funny! I’m going to call the police!” You threatened as you pressed your back against the wall, trying to keep your eyes everywhere.

You heard the man chuckling again at the other end, causing goosebumps to raise the thin hairs on your arms.

“Aww! Don’t be like that, baby. I’m just having some fun.” You could practically hear him smirking.

“Well, I’m not!” You spat before the lights began to flicker again.

“Stop it!”

“Alright, alright. You’re being such a party-pooper. Here, I’ll tell you what. I’ll stop messing with you, if you let me fuck you.”

“Excuse me?!” You gasped, eyes widened.

“Come on. It’ll be fun. I’ll even keep my mask on,” he cooed.

“No way!”

“Why not? It’s Halloween. I’m a trick-or-treater. I already did my tricks, now I’m ready for my treat.”

“I-I have a boyfriend!” You then blurted out.

“You just told me you didn’t.”

“I know that.”

“So that ‘no’’ was a yes? I don’t like that you lied to me like that. Hmm..well, he doesn’t have to know, baby. It’ll be our little secret.”

“No,” you replied.

“Alright. Fine. We can do this the hard way,” he responded just before the lights went completely dark. The line cut off on the other end, and you were left with silence.

You covered your mouth and tried to calm down. You had to find something to defend yourself with. Maybe a baseball bat or something. Or you could go back to the kitchen and grab a pan or knife.

Without removing yourself from the wall, you began to make your way to the kitchen.

In the dark, you quickly made your way to the drawers and found a knife before proceeding to turn on the flashlight on your phone just as you heard something coming from upstairs.

“Shit shit shit!” You breathed, gripping onto the knife with one hand and your phone with the other before you slowly began to make your way up the stairs , looking all around you.

You jumped when you heard a door slam behind you, and you slowly turned around to see a dark figure at the end of the hall.

“Who are you?!” You called out, taking a couple steps back, still gripping the knife tightly. Your legs began to tremble a bit.

The figure then turned around. A white ghost-like mask covered their face. You could hear a low chuckle coming from them as they began to take a step closer, holding their own, bloody knife in his hand.

“Get away from me! I’m serious!” You threatened, but he continued to make his way closer to you, so, you dashed into your bedroom, not noticing something on the floor that caused you to trip and fall onto your bed, the knife slipped out of your hand, along with your phone, both landing on the floor with a thump.

Once you managed to push your body up, you glanced over your shoulder and saw the figure standing right behind you, causing you to scream. You tried to scramble back, but he grabbed one of your legs, lifting the knife towards you to strike.

You quickly reached for a pillow and started hitting him with it. It worked for a second, and he stumbled back. But, it gave you enough time to get out of bed.

However, your efforts were not sufficient,and he grabbed you, tossing you back onto the bed with a thump before he crawled over you, pinning your hands behind your head and straddling your waist.

A low chuckle could be heard coming from him before he leaned over and whispered against your ear, “You’re so cute when you’re scared.”

Your heart pounded against your chest, struggling to break free as tears pricked over your eyes.

“Please, let me go..” you whimpered.

“Not until I get my treat, sweetheart,” he reminded her as he sat up and began to pull down his pants underneath the black cloak.

“Aye, mierda, this thing..”he huffed under his breath as he hiked the cloak up above his waist.

Wait a second. That voice..it sounded familiar. Too familiar. And there was only one person you knew who would curse like that.

“M-Miguel?”

“Yeah?” He paused, looking down at you through his mask, his persona now forgotten.

“Are you fucking kidding me?! It was you doing this the whole time?!” You shrieked as you started smacking him, hitting him with all your might.

“You asshole!”

Miguel simply laughed as he grabbed hold of your hands.

“Come on, nena! I was just messing with you!” He continued to laugh. “You should’ve seen the look on your face. It was adorable.”

“G-get off of me!” You were pissed at the stunt your boyfriend pulled.

“But I want my treat,” you just knew that he was pouting under his mask.

“I’m not giving you anything you big jerk! Now get off and turn my lights back on!” You demanded, shoving him off of you.

“Fine,” he muttered before fixing himself and got off the bed and headed out of your room.

You laid in your bed for a moment, trying to relax. You never thought Miguel would do such a thing. He really had you scared shitless.

Shaking your head and gathering your thoughts, you got up from bed, grabbing the knife you dropped on the floor and began to make your way downstairs just as the lights came back on.

Miguel was already in the kitchen, mask removed and munching on the popcorn you had made.

You placed the knife back where it belonged before turning to face Miguel, crossing your arms over your chest.

Miguel looked over at you after popping some more popcorn into his mouth, giving you a cheeky grin.

“Heeey..” he reached over to you, pulling you over by the arm. “Don’t be mad. Please. Forgive me?”

He gave you big puppy dog eyes. And for someone as big as him, it was actually adorable. But you were still mad at him. He actually had you fearing for your life.

“No,” you respond curtly, glaring up at him. Why did he think you would just forgive him so easily?

“How did you even get in here?” You asked as he pulled you into a tight hug.

“You showed me where you keep your spare key, remember?”

“Oh, yeah..”

“Soo..”he smirked then. “Can I get my treat now?”

“You’re insufferable. Fine! Fine,” you finally agreed with a nod. “But, I swear if you do something like that again, I’m breaking up with you."

Miguel gave you a toothy grin before pulling his mask back down before pulling out his knife from under his cloak. With closer inspection, you realize it was just a fake prop knife with red paint over it.

“Wait, how did you change your voice?” You suddenly asked.

Miguel pulled out a little box-like device and held it to his face before speaking to it, his voice sounding completely different.

“Oh.”

“Now, let’s have some fun, shall we?” Miguel stated before he started chasing you around the kitchen, with you now playing along.

After you had given the last of the candy out to trick-or-treaters and finished up the popcorn, you and Miguel were upstairs in your room, with you on your knees, sucking him off.

He was still clad in his costume, having his cloak bunched up around his waist.

“Oh, fuck, that’s it. Just like that,” he groaned, tilting his head back as you bobbed your head and pumped him in your hand. You couldn’t help but to slip your hand into your panties and finger yourself, letting out moans around his cock.

He began to thrust into your mouth, holding your head still with his hand. You continued to finger yourself.

“Such a naughty little angel you are, nena. Taking my cock in so well,” he praised before letting out another groan, feeling himself close to his orgasm. However, he pulled himself out of your mouth, stunting his release. He wanted to be inside you for that. He pulled up on onto your feet before he knelt down before you, removing his mask before shooting you a playful wink and removed your white shorts and panties before half of his face disappeared between your legs.

You let out a moan when you felt it. His tongue, running along your folds, picking up your wetness with greed. He lifted you up by the thighs, placing a hand on your back before lifting you up on the floor and blindly made his way to the closet wall, pinning you there.

“Oh, Miguel!” You whined, tilting your head back against the wall, squeezing his head between your thighs as he slurped and nipped at your aching pussy.

Muffled moans could be heard coming from his mouth, sending vibrations through your body. You started bucking your hips against her mouth, needing more of his tongue.

You let out another whine, needing more. You needed more of him. You needed him inside you.

“Migueeeel!” You pouted as you continued to grind your hips against him. All he needed was his mouth to send you over the edge, and he knew how to use it well. He had you seeing stars and reaching for the moon with how his tongue danced along your bundle of nerves and slipped into your soaking pussy.

However, he pulled away before you were able to reach your peak.

“No!” You cried out, causing him to chuckle. He gently removed you from his shoulders and carried you to your bed, dropping you.

“Don’t fret, nena. We got all night. It’s still Halloween. And I am going to enjoy my treat for as long as I can. I did tell you and wanted to feel your insides, after all,” he said as he slipped his mask back down and took off everything else, leaving himself naked.

He proceeded to remove most of your clothes, leaving just your halo and wings on before flipping you over so you were on your stomach.

“On your hands and knees, angelita,” he ordered, giving you ass a playful smack, causing you to let out a yelp. You did as he said and positioned yourself before him, ass in the air and face down onto the mattress.

You could hear him stroking himself in his hand, and the sound made your mouth water.

“I know you want me in that tight little pussy, nena. Don’t worry, I got you,” Miguel smirked before plunging himself into your warm, wet cunt, causing you to arch your back and cry out his name.

Miguel didn’t wait to set at a brutal pace, pivoting himself against you, balls slapping against your clit. You let out a lewd moan, your eyes rolling back just as Miguel grabbed a fistful of your hair and leaned over, his phone in hand. He took a quick photo of the two of you.

“You better not show that to anyone,” you whimpered.

“Of course not. This is all for me. No one gets to see you like this, angelita,” Miguel cooed, and you felt him resting his masked face against your hair, as if trying to give you a kiss.

“Now, you gonna cum for me?”

You could feel him hitting that sweet spot that made you see stars, and you cried out a ‘yes’ in response, nodding your head.

“Yes! Yes yes! I will! Please..just like that!”

“That’s my girl,” he praised, giving your ass a hard smack that had you cumming instantly.

You gripped onto the bed sheets as Miguel continued to thrust into you past your orgasm. He loved filling you up and mixing your juices with his. And that’s just what he did. A couple more thrusts and he came inside you.

“Oh, fuck..that felt good,” Miguel sighed as he slowly pulled out of you, marveling at how your cunt dripped with his seed.

Taking off his mask completely, he pulled you into his arms and kissed you passionately.

“I’m still mad at you,” you reminded him, poking him hard on the chest.

He simply laughed and pecked your lips a couple of times. “Sorry, nena. I’ll make it up to you, I promise,” he cooed, nuzzling his face against your neck.

“Happy Halloween.”

☆*:.｡. o .｡.:*☆ ☆*:.｡. o .｡.:*☆ ☆*:.｡. o .｡.:*☆ ☆*:.｡. o .｡.

@xaaaaaaax, @randomwriteralan, @migueloharastruelove, @camzzn

#miguel o'hara #atsv miguel #miguel x reader #miguel o’hara x reader #miguel ohara #miguel ohara fanfiction #miguel o'hara smut #miguel o’hara smut #miguel ohara x reader #miguel o'hara x y/n #miguel o'hara x reader #miguel spiderverse #miguel smut #spiderman 2099

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dcxdpdabbles · 10 months

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DC x DP fic idea: Love Among Fans

Damian Wayne would be the first to admit he had difficulty connecting to others his age. The only thing he knew well was the unforgiving bloodlust of battle and while that helped him fight as Robin it didn't mean it made a well liked Robin.

Civilians flinched away from him, and Police officers stood weary around him. He cares not for the crooks' opinion of him, but he knew it is low.

Worse, other teenage heroes didn't like him around. The Teen Titans had rejected his membership after the three months trial run. Young Justice made excuses after the first two. Even the Outlaws said he was too much to be around, and Todd ran that one.

Of course, his brothers did their best to let him down gently but they could not force the rest of their teams to accept him.

That's why Jon meant so much to him. His best friend had been displeased initially with Damian's behavior, but he had been willing to still get to know him.

Jon had the patience of a Saint. He discovered what worked for Damian and how to help him breach the gaps between them. Damian knew little of what he had missed as a kid, but Jon never made him feel less for it. He carefully explained, opening his world to wondrous new things and Damian tried them all because Jon asked him to.

There was very little he wouldn't do for Jon.

"Have you ever read fanfiction?'" Jon asked one afternoon in the Kryptonian's room.

"No." He grunts, knowing the other wouldn't take offense to the short reply.

Jon smiles, pushing the tablet he had been scrolling on. "You should! This is my current favorite. It's about the show Space Ninjas, you like."

Damian appreciated the show's art and animation, so he took the tablet and clicked on the first chapter. Jon pulled out his phone, and got comfortable on his bed as Damian read.

And read and read and read.

Three days later, he lay on his bed staring at the ceiling, unsure how to deal with real life until the author posted another chapter. He been texting Jon about the story and hosting over amazing character interpretation, theories on what the upcoming twist would be and just about how amazing this piece of art is.

Jon sent back multiple reaction gifs and links to the author's blog, where fans had posted art of the fic. Damian scrolled through them, amazed by how well every piece was, and his eyes caught the drawing Tabet Drake given him a year ago that he had ignored for his paints.

After a moment of thinking, he picked it up, hooked up his computer, and tried to draw the one scene that made the whole fic his newest obsession.

It took three days before he was satisfied with the results. He showed Jon who gushed over it for hours. He convinced him to open a blog to post it and when Damian couldn't bring himself to, Jon tagged the writer in it.

The writer sent him a heartfelt message equally moved by his drawings as Damian was by his writing.

It was the start of his second friendship.

Over time Damian drew more and more. His fanart blog grew in followers as his skills sharpened with practice. He made more pieces of other fanfiction he read, but he always fell back to making unique fan art for GlaxeyAstronaut.

He and GlaxeyAstronaut chatted for years. He didn't know his real name- he could find it easily enough with the Batcomputer but felt it would ruin things if he did- but he knew about him. His online friend was the same age as, Damian, who identified as male, had an older sister and two scientist parents, lived Minnesota and dreamed of being a astronaut.

Damian likewise told him things about himself, mindful never of revealing anything that could pinpoint him a Wayne. And that's how their relationship was for two years.

The writer and his artist.

At one point, Jon had pointed out that Damian messaged GlaxeyAstronaut daily and talked about him just as much. He pointed out how Damian's heart beat raised whenever he saw that silly icon on his notification. He pointed out how flustered he became when he read GlaxeyAstronaut's messages.

But Damian ignored him beacuse surely he was only excited to have two whole friends now.

When they turned fourteen, things changed. GlaxeyAstronaut stopped replying to his message for a week, nearly causing Damian to go find him as Robin until his friend returned to the chat room with a short "I had an accident in my parent's lab. Electric accident. It was bad. It is bad. I may not be able to get on here as much"

His friend became somewhat distant after that, replying three or four days after. Damian figured it was because he was recovering from his accident. Still he tried to be there for him and one day, almost a year after GlaxeyAstronaut's accident he received the message.

"I can't be an Astronaut. My heart will always be too slow to apply"

Damian stared at the words feeling ice cold. Being an Astronaut had always been his friend's dream since he was five, and he could point at the glowing dots to his parents on a camping trip. The fact a medical condition acquired from a lab accident ruined it just left Damain feeling cheated.

He had no idea what GlaxeyAstronaut must feel but he guess far worst.

He had sent a message asking GlaxeyAstronaut if he wanted to call him and talk about it without much thought . They had never done a voice call before, never wanting to breach that uncharted area of online and real life friendship.

But GlaxeyAstronaut agreed, and hesitantly, Damian sent him a link to a chat room with a call option.

The call connected, and the two spoke about the writer's condition how the electricity had run amok in his body, slowing his heart and killing him for a few seconds until his friends were able to bring him back using CPR.

When that became too heavy, they switched to their favorite shows, then brainstormed ideas for collaboration and everything else under the sun.

Damian felt like no time had passed when Father came to warn him to get ready to head out soon, and GlaxeyAstronaut told him he should get started on his homework anyway.

"My name is Danny, by the way," the voice from his speaker said softly. "You don't have to tell me your name. I just....thank you for listening. My best friends and sister hear me but they don't listen to what I saw about.....the accident. It means a lot to me."

"You are most welcome" He pauses for a few seconds before he tacks on "My name is Damian. It is a honor to meet you Danny"

He heard the other boy laugh before the call disconnected any Damian was left staring at his ceiling like he did three years ago.

Back then, Damian's life had changed upon discovering fanfiction and fandoms. Today his life changed upon the startling discovery that Jon had been trying to tell him since he was twelve.

He had a crush on Danny.

How would ge deal with this?

#dcxdpdabbles #dc x dp crossover #Love Among Fans #part 1 #dead serious #Damian and Danny were one friends for two years before Phantom #Jon and Damian friendship

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jeonsbabygirlsworld · 2 months

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SUMMARY: Life was easy until you meet the eye candy of your life and the adventure with him is a hell of ride, but there is certain someone who seems to get hurt in this.

PAIRINGS: Gynecologist Jungkook X reader ft. bartender yoongi

WORD COUNT: 1.2K

A/N: lol I see no one wants to get tagged in this when I posted the snippet but anyway the tag list is open, and please guys don't let this flop; [ I worked really hard to get motivated enough and write, and this a series and this the first part.✨smut will be there eventually ✨

Note : this is inspired by a web series and I’m GONNA EDIT IT , I’m not gonna make it a whole ass 3 season containing 10-12 episodes per season and I felt like I could do something with this series. Thankyou

Your surroundings suddenly felt hot, the interns did a great job explaining the project to the clients sitting in front of you. The air conditioner did a shit job of keeping the surroundings but it's just you because you see your other intern rubbing her palms under the table.

The meeting was about to end and just when you were about to get up from the chair to leave the hall, the intern called out your name just so you could brief out the entire thing and thank the clients, grabbing on the metal stick you stand in the place where your intern was speaking.

"I hereby extensively elaborate on the profile success of our company, we all can see the numbers of shares growing quickly, see for yourselves" You point to the whiteboard where the graph was made, your company making progress in these past years.

"We can be a great profit for the leading country, sir, I hope you can see the numbers growing live" You then point to the laptop which has a live count of people buying the shares from the company, in the middle while everyone was focused you undo some of the buttons of your red satin shirt and mutter about the poor air conditioner "why am I so damn hot?"

Just when you were about to continue you see Mr. Jeon sitting on one of the chairs that too naked, just in his Calvin Klein boxers, what the fuck? "Yes Ms. Kim, why are you so damn hot?" Jungkook says he rises from his seat climbs over the desk and walks towards you.

you can see the client in shock and eye him, while he climbs down from the table your doctor "Mr. Jeon" is in front of you, his eight packs abs and muscular biceps all out to see, just when you are registering about his details, he picks up the glass of water on the table and drops it all over the neck and you hiss at the cold feeling.

Jungkook scurries the files away from the table and picks you up so you can sit on the table, your shirt is then unbuttoned by him, and he lays soft kisses and slowly bends you down completely until your back is pressed on the table.

Beep beep beep

A loud beep of your alarm drags you out of the dream and you gasp and sit up "fuck did I just have a wet dream about my doctor?" you mutter and grab your phone to off the alarm, you check the number of notifications you had overnight and stumble upon the "doctor's appointment" reminder.

Gasping for the second time now you scurry away from the bed to get a nice warm shower and head to the mister ever so sexy man your doctor "Jeon Jungkook".

"It's itchy lately, hasn't got better since last week" You talk to the man who is between your legs while you keep trying to not moan while checking your vagina. "You may get dressed now and it looks completely fine, and I can't see any infection" Jungkook says and stands straight and moves to his chair right behind the desk giving you some space so you can change.

closing the blinds and getting dressed you place the hospital gown tidily in the basket and move to his table, you grab on the sanitizer which is on his table pump a few drops on yours and apply it while your doctor writes down the prescription.

You notice the hot features of a sleeve tattoo of his you saw on his Instagram when you stalked him on the first day of meeting him, the depth of his gaze looked enchanting, and the afternoon sunlight complimented his skin tone well while you were busy studying his features a small cough brings you out of the daydream.

"Here miss y/n" The doctor hands you the prescription and you widen your eyes seeing at the statement which had written "bath three times a day" You eye him and check yourself by smelling when he isn't looking, and you smell perfectly fine because you sprayed almost the bottle of the perfume and bathed with the new soap bar you bought recently. Giving him a crooked smile you leave the room embarrassed.

Crumbling the paper you place it in your purse and straight away call your best friends to meet up for a brunch and she gladly accepts.

"No, but like seriously y/n" Chae and Yuna both seem shocked and confused and you appear to be more embarrassed "Yeah, he wrote that in the prescription" You show her the paper Jungkook gave you, and she says he wrote it so that you could maintain a proper hygiene and you buy it and proceed to eat your brunch in the cafe.

"Chae Yuna, you can go ahead I'm staying back so I can spend some time with Yoongi, I haven't been catching up on him." Tell her you give her a hug and a kiss on the cheeks, and you part ways.

You head to the bar where yoongi works as a bartender and you make sure to buy his favorite chocolate on your way, you reach there in less than five minutes and there you see Yoongi arranging the glasses in line just to make them fancier.

"Hey, how are you?" Yoongi is slightly confused to see you in the middle of the day and that too a weekday, you chuckle at him, and you tell him you are fine, and you had to meet a friend and not tell him the details about the meeting with the doctor.

"You up for a drink y/n?" The sweet boy asks you and you gladly accept it, looking here and there you realize he is working alone and his intern who never fails to hit on Chae is missing.

"Is Taehyung not here?" you ask him, and he says he had ditched today just because he had an early date and will be here for the night shift nodding you accept his famous highball, "you want any help? I'm free for the day" you offer him, and he casually refuses, and you become a bit sad, but you play it cool.

Yoongi looks at your features and chuckles and tells you he is just kidding and won't mind your help and he's rather happy you want to help him, before coming back to the other side of the table you hand him the chocolate you bought.

Helping him and chatting for a while you hug him and say goodbye, you notice a bit of blush creeping on his cheeks but you wave it up because it can be the alcohol you both drank, and you get back to your home and get a bit of rest so you can wake up fresh and get back on your work from home.

Taglist: @jungk97kwife, @kimmingyuswifee ,@kingofbodyrolls

A/n : this short but hehe more is yet to come 💖

#jungkook fic #jungkook imagines #jungkook fanfics #jungkook x reader #jungkook smut #bts smut #bts x reader #bts fanfic #bts jungkook #jungkook series #jungkook x oc #jjk smut #jjk series #yoongi #min yoongi #bts #jeon jungkook #jungkook #bts fanfic bts smut

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ewanmitchellcrumbs · 4 months

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Counting the Minutes

Pairing: Michael Gavey (Saltburn) x f!reader Warnings: Dirty talk, masturbation, phone sex. Word count: ~1k

Summary: Separated for the Christmas break, her and Michael have to get creative.

Author's note: A little addition to The Golden Ratio, though can also be read as a standalone piece. Day twelve of the Smuffmas prompts - "promise and phone sex". No tag list. Follow @fics-by-ewanmitchellcrumbs and turn on post notifications.

She nestles beneath the duvet, clicking through the contacts on her Nokia until she reaches Michael’s name. A faint smile tugs at her lips as her finger hovers over the call button, she can’t wait to speak to him.

They have been inseparable since the night that Oliver ditched him. They brought out the best in each other. Michael lit a fire underneath her that made her want to study harder, to strive for perfection in all things. In turn, she softened him up and taught him not to see the world through such a harsh lens.

Their relationship had become serious enough that they had both chosen to spend their reading week together, instead of going home like the vast majority of people at their college had.

Now the term was over, and Christmas had beckoned them both home; Michael back to his mum, and her back to her dad. It’s odd not to see him every day, and though they’d stayed in touch on MSN Messenger, nothing compares to sitting with their legs entwined as they discuss their notes for their upcoming tutorials.

It’s only been a week and she misses the way he rests his chin against his hand when he’s deep in thought, how the intensity of his unblinking, blue eyed stare causes her skin to grow hot, and the smell of Imperial Leather soap and old books that she inhales when she rests her face in the crook of his neck.

Holding the phone to her ear, it rings once, twice, three times before he answers.

“Hello, you.”

His voice gives her butterflies. It’s the sound she’d attribute to how it feels to run your fingertips against plush velvet.

“Hi,” she says back with a coy smile. God, she wishes she could see him.

“How long can you talk for?” He asks.

“I put credit on my phone yesterday, ten pounds, so should be good for a while.”

“One hundred and sixty six point seven hours.”

She huffs a laugh. Of course his mind wanders to the maths of it.

“You think we could talk for that long?”

“Hmm,” he muses, “I’m sure we could find a way to pass the time.”

“Like we did during reading week?” She asks softly, her fingers drawing lazy circles against the cotton of her bedsheets.

“Can’t really do that over the phone.”

“Have you ever had phone sex before?”

She hears him suck in a harsh breath before he replies. “What do you think?”

It causes her to giggle. Of course he hasn’t.

“Would you like to try it?” She holds the phone tighter to her ear, a lazy grin upon her lips.

“What does it entail?”

“Well,” she begins, switching her mobile from one ear to the other, and snuggling further down into the bed. “We describe what we’d like to do to each other while we touch ourselves.”

“One thousand, two hundred and fifty.”

“What?”

“On average, I can make you orgasm in about eight minutes. If we run through all of your phone credit then that’s how many times I could make you come.”

“Michael!” She gasps, feeling her insides flutter at the thought. “I don’t think that would be physically possible. I’ll settle for just the one today.”

He huffs a soft laugh, the sound breathy through the receiver. “Yes, I suppose that’s a bit impractical. Alright then, you start.”

“I wish you here right now,” she purrs seductively. “I want to push my hand up your t-shirt and run my fingers against that little trail of hair that leads all the way down your stomach, before I wrap them around your cock.”

His breathing grows heavier and she can hear the faint rustle of clothing in the background. She bites her lip, her own hand snaking beneath the duvet and into the waistband of her knickers.

“I miss the way you feel,” he tells her, voice shaky, “how tightly you grip me when I first push inside of you. I don’t think I’ll ever get used to that sensation. You’re so wet, so warm…”

She can hear the slick sound of his hand pumping over his cock, the sound sends arousal pooling between her legs and she circles her pearl in earnest, the added wetness aiding her ministrations. She hadn’t expected him to focus on the sensation of physical touch quite so much, but Michael is pragmatic after all, and his innovative approach excites her.

“Mmmm,” she moans quietly, “I want you to do that thing where you grab my hips to pull me back against you as you fuck me, it feels so good.”

A broken whimper escapes him, and there’s a brief moment of just his ragged breathing before he speaks again.

“The way your thighs tighten against my waist drives me mad. I swear I can still feel you there when I close my eyes, see the way your tits bounce– fuck!”

She whines, circling her bud faster, the coil in her gut tightening. “Wanna slide my hands down to your arse, push you in as deep as you’ll go, watch how your eyes screw shut as you come inside me.”

He grunts. “Wish I could come inside of you so badly. I need to feel you clenching around me, hear the pretty sounds you make as I fill you up.”

Her hips jerk involuntarily against her hand, and she knows she’s close. It’s been a week since he’s touched her and his filthy words have sent her unravelling much faster than she anticipated.

“I’m close,” she pants.

“M–me too,” he huffs back. “I’m gonna fuck you so hard the moment we get back to college.”

“Oh god–” Her response is cut off by her pleasured cry, as she falls apart, her walls spasming around emptiness as her thighs tremble.

A grunt and heavy breathing on the other end of the line lets her know that Michael has reached his end too. There’s nothing but the sound of their shared gasps for air, as they both recover.

“Do you promise?” She finally asks. “To fuck me hard when we get back to college?”

“Tell you what, let’s go back a day early and we can spend an entire day doing just that.”

She giggles excitedly, rolling onto her side. “I’ll be counting the minutes until then.”

#michael gavey x you #ewan mitchell #michael gavey smut #michael gavey x y/n #michael gavey #michael gavey saltburn #michael gavey imagine #saltburn michael gavey #michael gavey x reader #michael gavey fan fiction #michael gavey fanfiction #michael gavey fanfic #michael gavey fan fic #saltburn #saltburn fanfiction #saltburn fan fiction #saltburn fan fic #saltburn fanfic

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90ekz · 4 months

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“WE AINT GOOD-GOOD, BUT WE STILL GOOD”

debrief: when your ex-boyfriend ony comes down with a cold, you clock into your nurse shift, as well as resolving some old feelings.

tags: black!fem!reader, sickfic but like.. not, use of the n word, make-ups and break-ups, you make ony nervoussss 🥹, implied eremin (i love them), pure fluff, healthy communication cs ik some of y’all be bashin niggas heads in

an: bringing in the new year with some fluff !! i love you guys, and may 2024 bring everything you desire in abundance <3

ex-boyfriend!ony who was so heartbroken when y’all split, but knew it was for the best. he didn’t wanna drag you down with all his mess, (even if you insisted over and over that you were okay) and you were busy trying to get your masters. even through this, close contact was kept, and y’all leaned on each other for support.

that’s why it was such a shock when connie and jean had let it slip that he’d been sick for 3 days. you sat on the notion, wondering why he didn’t come to you or even say anything, and waited for a call, but when none came after a few hours, you were dialing his number harshly into your phone and letting it ring with a scowl on your face.

“onyankopon.” you spit over the phone, hearing him sputter at the use of his full name. dull music played in the background, and you could swear you hear other voices, hushed.

“h-hey mama, what’s goin on?” ony refused to let his composure slip, all his boys were over and he had told them that he had stopped fuckin’ with you. they all opted to come over to chill (smoke) even while he was down with a real bad cold. he caved and took a few hits before deciding that his lungs weren’t strong enough right now, and passing the spliff to connie wordlessly.

“you got something you wanna tell me?” you sat patiently, giving him the opportunity to tell the truth before jumping to conclusions. maybe there was a reason for it, everything happens for a reason, right?

“uh…nah i been chillin—hold up.” your eyebrow jumped at his labored breathing mixed with the sound of him hushing someone in the background before pressing the phone back to his ear. “anyways. im good, nothing to tell you, im cool. you cool?” your suspicion grew at his constant throat clearing and groans.

“you a damn lie.” before he could even respond, you were hanging up the phone and two beep sounds rung in his head. he tried to call back twice before getting a notification that you’d left home and were on the pathway to his house. the drive was only about 10 minutes, and knowing you, you’d be here in 5.

“aw shit—all y’all gotta go.” ony stumbled to his feet, ushering connie, eren, armin, and jean out of their seated positions and towards the front door. “man i was just getting high, the fuck goin’ on?” eren mumbles lightly, placing his jacket around armin’s shoulders and finishing packing his bag.

“someone’s coming over, c’mon.”

“who bruh?”

“y/n nigga, i think she knows im sick. y’all gotta go, now.” the whole group erupts in protests of ‘i thought y’all were done’ and ‘don’t kick us out for that, man!’ but ony didn’t care. he hadn’t seen you in person for a while, and he still needed to cover his tracks. the whole group rolls their eyes, save for connie and jean, who looked like they’d seen a ghost.

“connie, jean, why y’all look like that? what did y’all do?”

“it was him!” jean points to connie, completely throwing him under the bus. connie almost protests until he sees the sour look on ony’s face, and they’re scattering out the door with ‘im sorry’s’ flaking from their lips, leaving armin and eren to snicker under their breath.

“you said you were done with her, why now?”

“as much as i would love to give you an in-depth synopsis on my relationship status, i really don’t have time for allat right now.”

eren rolls his eyes, his attitude shown clear on his face. he wasn’t the biggest fan of ony’s relationship with you, considering that he’s the one who has to hear all the bullshit between you two. armin intertwines his pinkies with eren, an easy soother to his irritation.

“if i have to hear about this shit later, i’ll kill you.”

with reluctance, the couple left—armin apologetically excusing eren’s rudeness—and ony was left to spray fabreeze for the weed smell, and splash cold water on his face to hopefully extinguish his up-ticking fever, just in time for your harsh knocks to come on the door.

ony opened it, albeit barely enough for you to see his flushed face. he was feeling real feverish now….

“you ain’t tell me you was coming over.”

“i don’t have to tell you. open this damn door and stop playin wit me.” ony gulps as he unlocks the chain on the door and sees you fully. all you had on was his hoodie that he was sure you said you were gonna give back, and some nike pro shorts that he couldn’t see. you held a bag of unknown contents in your hand. you eyed him up and down before stepping inside like you owned the place.

he loved when you did that shit, this man is down bad.

you twirled the string of his sweatpants between your freshly done nails, and ony swears his temperature went up 10 degrees. you had this look in your eye that was the epitome of concern and irritation having a fist fight.

“so when were you gonna tell me that you were sick?”

“i wasn’t. i didn’t want you to worry about it, but the opptastic duo just had let you know, i guess.” ony followed as you proceeded deeper in the house, but you paused as you entered the living room. your eyebrows furrowed and your nose crinkled.

“what’s that smell?”

ony gulped, just playing shrugging and playing dumb. the cloud of fabreeze hadn’t really covered the weed smell all the way, and he was sure that you were about to bust him for smoking while he was sick, and he really wasn’t tryna hear all that at the moment. he was ready to get in his bed (preferably with you in it..)

“do not play wit me, what is that japanese cherry blossom shit im smelling?” you threw your keys and bag down and paced around the living room, flipping over pillows and looking under couch cushions. ony protested, promising that he didn’t know what you were talking about, and thought to himself that you were just smelling yourself.

until you pulled an empty cart refill wrapper from beneath the cushion.

aw shit.

you looked at him like he was a dumbass—which he was—before watching him smack his teeth and snatch the wrapper from your hand begrudgingly. the words “CHERRY GLAZE” in bold lettering burned his eyes, before vaguely remembering that armin had switched out his liquid before he’d left.

ony teetered on the truth, but he knew you’d be pissed about him having his boys over when he was clearly sick, so he settled on a lil white lie.

“oh, that’s uh—that’s some of my old shit.”

“if i’m recalling correctly, aren’t you the one that said that you didn’t like smoking that ‘fruity shit’?” ony cleared his throat—in a way he only does when he lies—before just grunting in response.

“and even if you didn’t say that, you hate cherry flavored anything, so that begs the question… what bitch was smoking this shit on your couch?” you jabbed your freshly done pointer nail into his chest, feeling his breath stutter under your touch.

he was caught between a rock and a hard place, and figured he’d just tell you the truth, even if you’d get mad.

“basically, the boys came over and eren brought his lil boyfriend or whatever he is—”

“wait, eren’s gay?”

“apparently. anyways, his name is armpit… or was it arm and hammer… whatever sum like that, and he was smoking his cart and replaced the liquid on the couch and i guess the wrapper fell between the cushions. no bitches were over here, i swear.” ony holds his hands up in defense, reassuring you that he was telling the truth. you smiled, as you believed him regardless. you knew he didn’t roll like that anyway.

“bae, relax. i believe you, i was just tryna see you sweat. just sit down, i bought you some soup.” you smiled at him with all your teeth, and ony was sure that he fell in love all over again. he missed you more than words could explain, and he just wanted you to come home again.

he finally let himself relax and he slumped onto the couch, his headache hammering against the back of his eyes. you took a seat on the ottoman next to him, unpacking his favorite potato soup and crackers. you crush up the crackers in the soup and stir, just like he likes, and unscrew the cap of his blue fanta.

“i think—no, i’m already in love with you. i dont think i ever stopped.” ony mutters as you spoon feed him and he has the urge to cry. you were always so gentle and caring with him, and you’ve never stopped, regardless of what the relationship status was. that’s what he loved most about you—it didn’t matter what happened between you too, if he needed you, you were there.

he missed you so, so bad.

“stop talking with your mouth full, you’re gonna get soup on your new carpet.” you attempted to brush off his words, and the way that they were making your face heat up.

“fuck the carpet. i’ve never been so serious in my life, mama. i love you more than you know. ‘just want you to come back to me.”

you two broke up because you mutually needed space and time to yourselves. it was an agreement, yet neither of you committed to it for more than a week. before you knew it, you were back texting him good morning, as he was texting you good night. all you wanted was to be his girlfriend again, but you wanted to give him the space he needed.

you set the spoon and soup aside, watching the way ony’s deep brown eyes twinkle under the low light of the living room.

“ony, i want to give you your space, that’s the whole reason we broke up to begin with. you deserve that.”

“i had enough space. you not living here no more, not being up under me when i sleep, not kissing me when i wake up, only seeing you at parties, that’s space, and i’m real tired of it,” ony laces his fingers with yours, kissing the back of your knuckles as he used to do.

“i want you back. i want you back in my face all the time, i wanna wake up mad cause you took all the covers, but then it goes away when i see how cute you look all bundled up. i want my initials on your nails again, i want you. i need you, baby. come home to me, please—“

“okay, okay! that’s enough, you’re embarrassing me!” you hide your head in the crook of his neck, suddenly feeling bashful about the way he was relaying his apparent undying love to you. everything he does flusters you still. you don’t miss the way his hands grasp you even tighter than they used to, if that’s even possible.

“i just want you to promise me that i’m not hurting you.”

“you could never. my perfect girl would never.” ony places a kiss on the top of your head, making sure to hold you even tighter. you choose not to mention his sniffles at the current moment, and let yourself be lost in his love.

“i missed you too, ony.”

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itspyon · 5 months

Text

how to adapt into dtblr culture for twitter refugees

so you've decided to move here from twitter. welcome and congratulations. this post is basically a big warning that goes THIS ISN'T TWITTER, DON'T BEHAVE LIKE IT IS, LEAVE THAT AT THE DOOR

i'll be teaching you two things, how the site works, and how to adapt your behavior to tumblr ( and really, normal human being ) culture. believe me, it's not that hard and it will actually feel very productive

let's start with the basics and frequent questions

your username can be anything, don't stress about it

your picture can be anything. a lot of us don't even have dteam related stuff up on our profile

your display name doesn't have to be your name. nobody is going to see it when you post, only usernames are visible

check your settings. do it. get familiar with them. turning on and off asks, turning anon off, turning submissions off. click on your blog, go to blog settings, check things there, go to account, your muted things will be there, go to dashboard and customize that. use your settings !!!

yes, pinned posts are fairly important and they tend to be pretty extensive. name age what you post about ( a lot of people here are multifandom !), just don't overshare ( no locations no trigger lists i beg you ). they also usually have a breakdown of your tags at the end

tags

it's a whole thing. some are actually useful. some are just passive commentary

the tags you put on posts ( both when you made the post and when you're reblogging something ) are both global and hosted on your profile. it's why you'll see things like "nameofperson art" rather than just "art". using just "art" will put you in the promoted tag, in this case

you can use spaces on your tags

usually you will tag what type of post you're making ( art, text post, ask post ), and then the contents keep in mind this is how people often mute things, some people tag the current situation, people use and mute ship tags. but this is also how people find things, like the specific asks from one person to another, so "username ask" is commonly used, "irl person ( dream, dnf, etc )" is also seen a lot just watch how others tag things and copy them. nobody will get offended you took their tag formatting, most of us will appreciate properly tagged posts

you do tag when you reblog people. you use tags to comment on things. don't really use replies unless you're, saying thank you to someone or pointing out a spell mistake or asking to add an option to a poll, etc. we don't do replies, just rb your reply

quick reblog and like deets

post popularity is measured in "notes" which is the sum of replies, reblogs and likes. we don't really care much about numbers here and if you start getting crazy about it people will not like it. this is more of a talking and showing site

you can reblog without tags, feel free to

you can hide your likes. you can and should like as many things as you want. they don't alter any algorithm, since there's none. a like is a "i saw this post" notification to the poster

actually posting

people talk a lot. a fucking lot, and it's something you will have to get used to, because it's very different from twitter

there are no qrts. callouts are looked down upon. breathe. if you don't like something MUTE IT DON'T POST ABOUT IT, because no one is going to listen to any callouts. you will have to learn to live with the fact people like things you don't. this will, with time, make you feel very free

the bulk of posting here is asks, as you might notice soon. asks are fun and encouraged. just don't name drop if you're talking about drama please ?

don't be scared to send asks off anon, this is how people will find you and get to know you really. people are also more likely to reply to you

block bait anons. yes you can block anons. yes it will block every blog they make

culture time

i've said this. tumblr is unserious. drama here is approached very differently and with several less layers of panic. you will see death threats. you will see slurs ( said in non derogatory ways ). you will see jokes about serious topics. you will see people say "i didn't like this" and nobody will care

tumblr is a community of individualism. you will like your own things within the thing we share we like. you might not like dream's music, you might not find irl streams entertaining, as long as you're fucking normal about it ? nobody will care and you're free to express your opinions. people will even come ask you about it and just have a chat. we're here for the same content to some degree

tumblr is also a bunch of people who understand they like another bunch of people. that none of the streamers have stopped being human. so you might see people defend things that, maybe, you'd not have thought to defend before. maybe you're even uncomfortable seeing them defending it. this is something you will experience a lot, and you'll learn to properly deal with it as time passes

because again. no one does callouts here unless it is extremely bad. no one cares if you don't really like them. and they also accept people might and will not like them. and that is fine. and that doesn't make either person horrible. you're just different people. and you don't even have to interact

you want to make friends ? ask people things, compliment people's work, genuinely attempt to make conversation. this is not an impersonal website the way twitter is. people don't care about your opinions because they care about you, and you are more than what you don't like

the more positive and jokey and interactive you are the more people will talk to you. there's no "hitting the algorithm", there's no "engagement", it's just people talking to people. so don't be a neg posting bot, and be a person

you will learn to be less miserable. you learn to stop giving a shit and just do what makes you happy. they cannot get you here. there's no qrts. the few antis you'll find can be blocked and you'll never have to directly interact with one. don't be mean to the people in your own community, even if you disagree

again, you are more than what you don't like. learn to be what you like instead. and leave the dooming at the door

#pyon long post #if you have any questions feel free to ask #i will be happy to attach them with a reblog

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teamatsumu · 7 months

Text

kinktober 2023 -> day 10

video taping - suna rintarou x reader

word count: 592

kinktober masterlist

Suna had many pictures of you. And he didn’t just mean innocent ones of you eating ice cream or holding up a peace sign. He meant the racy ones that he kept under lock and key in a hidden folder on his phone that only opened by face recognition. Whether they were nudes you had sent him at some point during your many late night texting conversations, or pictures he had personally taken of you when you were getting hot and heavy, the fox-eyed pro athlete had a sturdy roster of materials he could use to jack off to during volleyball season away games, where many weeks would go by before he could feel your body against his again.

It was during a particularly rough two month stint away from home when Suna realized that even though he had a wide variety of photos of you in compromising positions, he was severely lacking in videos.

Well, that just wouldn't do.

So the next time he had you sitting on the floor between his legs, head bobbing up and down on his dick as you slowly licked and sucked over him, he reached for his phone, clicking the record button to capture the sight in front of him. He couldn’t resist. There’s no way he could pass this up. This was something he needed desperately in his wank bank.

“Rin, what are you doing?” You inquired with a quizzical look on your face, one of your hands wrapped around the base of his cock, the tip mere inches from your shiny lips. Suna felt himself twitch, hips jerking up a bit until your mouth kissed his dick again.

“Keep going baby, c’mon.” His voice was already wrecked, watching you through the phone screen as his hand reached behind your head, coaxing you down until your mouth had opened again to welcome him inside. He sighed in relief and hummed his approval, watching you get back to work.

There was something so fucking hot about watching all this through a screen, especially when he could feel what was happening right behind the camera. You looked up into the camera lens as you slurped all over his cock, eyes swimming with tears when he hit the back of your throat, one hand holding his shaft steady while the other toyed with his balls.

“That’s it, baby.” Suna groaned. “You’re a natural. The camera loves you.”

That got a moan out of you, making Suna curse and struggle to not let his head fall back and eyes slip shut. He needed to watch this, needed to see, even though this would be on video, he needed to see it as it was happening, as you really got into the whole camera thing.

There was another thing he really needed to get on film. So as he felt himself getting closer to the brink, he pulled your head off, groaning when you immediately replaced your mouth with your hand and stroked him fast and tight until he came in long spurts all over your face, your mouth open to catch just a little bit on your tongue. The sight made Suna dizzy with pleasure, and when you looked up at the camera, tongue still hanging out and face covered in white, he nearly came again.

That video carried Suna’s orgasms on its back for the next two weeks he spent away from you for game season. And Suna vowed he could get more videos of you, ideas of different positions and angles racing through his head already.

Taglist:

@bxbyyyjocelyn @thisbicc @lazuliquartz @dreamayy @kuroosluthoe @true-form-hoe @akumakitsune21 @cham0mil3-and-h0n3y @samisfunky @universal-s1ut @msbyomimi @dohwaesu @leothesquishy @n0tmykays @tsukiran @reyofsunshinelol @bleach-your-panties @galaneiaeris @leyra-giovanni @erenspersonalwh0re @peachesncats @soapsoftheworld @iwannabecamiloshovel @vintagevict0ria @smithieandy @moonlit-mizukage @snazzyturtles

A/N: For those whose tags arent working, im sorry! I tried and for some reason, your names wont show up in the mentions :( another way of being notified is to turn on my blog notifs for @teamatsumufics . I only reblog my fics there so it serves almost like being in a taglist!

#suna rintarou #suna rintarou x reader #suna rintarou smut #suna rintarou x you #suna rintarou x y/n #suna rintarou fanfiction #suna rintarou imagine #suna rintaro x reader #suna rintaro smut #suna rintaro x you #suna rintaro imagine #suna rintaro fic #suna rintaro x y/n #haikyuu fanfiction #haikyuu imagines #kinktober

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mafiadad5 · 2 months

Text

Try, try not to think about us in that way.

part 1// Genre- smut/ kinda plot?

Warnings/ au- best friends to lovers, 18+, unprotected (wrap it up), degrading, hint of mutual masturbation (bad at balancing attention tho so mostly y/n…), auralism, blindfold/ touch deprivation, y/n’s a little desperate…, may have forgotten things

Bestfriend!Chenle × fem!reader

Word Count- 3.5k+

a/n- I’m afraid part 1 is better plz go read, no proof read lolz… anyways hope u like xoxo🩷 tags- @sunnybutcloudy @marvelahsobx

Summary- You and Chenle has been friends for years now, since freshman year of Highschool, you finally graduate and go on a summer trip that you guys have been fantasizing to go on since sophomore year. You've always had a crush on him, but stopped trying after he rejected you freshman year. Not wanting to ruin the friendship, you ignore your feelings. That's until you're standing on the hotel balcony, listening to the waves crash on the shore as the sky lit up due to the sparkling stars, a cool breeze sending goosebumps to your skin, well that and also Chenle grabbing your waist, pulling you closer to him. "Your lips look so tasty when the stars reflect off of them." He looked at you. “Then what are you waiting for Chenle, kiss me then.”

Plz continue on…🎀

"Y/n, wake up." You heard your mom's voice from your door.

It's been the first time you could sleep in since you started college in August, in your comfy childhood bed at that, but of course, you couldn't enjoy it. It seems like you could never get a good rest actually, your dreams are always filled with fantasies about Chenle. It seems like ever since the beach trip you two took together, your dreams has gotten even worst—graphic, and you couldn't stand it. It's been months since you and him talked— well, since he talked to you.

After the trip he pretty much started to avoid you. Finding excuses to miss hang outs the rest of summer, responding dryly to your text, not calling, or even bother answering your calls, just acting strange— and you knew why. There was nothing you could do at this point, he wouldn't let you. Besides, you started college in a different state, so I guess it was best to cut ties or whatever it was in the first place. You just wished it never happened if this is how it would end. You made it out of your room, meeting your mom downstairs.

"You forgot your bag in your car again," She smiled. "and guess who I ran into this morning at the store?" She looked up at you from the kitchen as you sat at the table.

"Who?

"Chenle! He's doing well too, got his own place and everything." You forcefully smiled, taking a sip from your glass of water. "He asked about you too, what ever happened between you? Went on the trip and it seems like everything fell apart." "We just got into it on the trip and decided that we didn't work as friends." You didn't want it to, but your mind instantly geared to that night— the taste of him on your lips, the feeling of him in you, you could never forget it.

"Plus, if he's so worried about me he can just text my phone-" You stopped in your tracks from your phone buzzing on the table, your heart stopping for a moment as you glanced down at the phone, his name popping up on your notification center.

You swear that you could hear his voice as you read the message: "Hey. Kinda weird but I heard you were back in town. I understand if you say no, but do you think you can come over my place later for dinner, so we can... you know... talk." You thought maybe you were just seeing something, shit maybe you were even dreaming again. It's been months, why now? You sat there staring at your phone for a second, the room silent, your mind forming millions of thoughts. You sat for so long your phone went dark again, but it instantly lit up again, another message stacked above the one he sent, a mere: "please."

You looked up at your mom, a smirk painting your face disguising the butterflies and shocked pit forming at the bottom of your stomach. "Speaking of the devil. He just asked me to come over to dinner to talk." Your mom smiled in response, glazing at you as she wiped the counter. "You should, so you can reconcile. Plus, I miss my babies hanging out together.”

"I'll think about it." You said sarcastically, rolling your eyes as your mom grinned.

You knew you had no thinking to do— you sat in the mirror, making sure you looked perfect, even better than the last time he's seen you. You knew that you were gonna go no matter what, and there you were, driving down the road that led to his house.

You stood at his front door, nervous to ring the doorbell, nervous of what you would even say when he opened the door, nervous of if he would even open the door. The way you felt about seeing him, you would've thought he was never your best friend. You finally gathered the courage to just ring it and you stood there for a minute, thinking he was just ignoring it, but then the door opened.

You wanted to be the one who looked better than the last time you spoke, but it looks like he beat you to that. His dark eyes held so much expression, and his plumped pink lips that met your gaze drove you insane— it hadn't even been 30 seconds and you already want another taste.

"Y/n?" He spoke exasperated.

"Chenle." You said in response, an awkward smile appearing on your face.

"Come inside, it's cold and rainy." His eyes were wide as he grabbed your hand, pulling you inside. "I didn't think you would come, you ignored my message. How'd you even find my address?" He stood in front of you, a black t-shirt hugging those familiar abs, black loose pants hanging on his legs.

"Even though you stopped talking to me, you never stopped sharing your location." You flashed him a sarcastic smile, his expression instantly shifting to regret as he stepped closer to you.

"I'm so so sorry Y/n, I was just afraid that things would change."

"You decided to start it, you did it, so if anything changed it's because of you. I didn't deserve that." He stepped even closer, a little too close for comfort, grabbing your hands. "I know, and I'm actually so sorry. I'm such a dick for ignoring you after we did that. Please, please forgive me." His eyes twinkled and his voice was weirdly desperate as he held your hands tighter.

"Chenle, we've been friends for years, I could never not forgive you. He didn't even wait for you to finish the sentence, pulling you into a hug by your hands, grabbing your waist. "I'm so sorry Y/n, I love you." He broke the hug, looking at you with sparkling eyes. "I love you too Chenle." You smiled.

"Well, I didn't make dinner because I didn't think you would come over, but I can order take out and we can watch a movie?" He said, walking you to the living room, grabbing his phone as you nodded in response.

1 hour later the food finally got there, another hour passed as you two sat eating, talking each others heads off like nothing ever happened. You glanced at your phone, 10:07 pm. You didn't even notice the time passing by, and was ready to break the news that you had to go, but he spoke before you could even get the words put together. "It's pretty late, and it's raining super hard now, you should just stay the night." You looked up him, a smile sitting on his face as you looked down at your phone, thinking about how your luggage is literally in your car so you had everything you needed.

You haven't stayed the night with him since the beach trip and you saw how that turned out so you were hesitant about going, but he was you best friend and you trusted him— plus, you both learned your lesson so what's the worst that could happen? "Yea ok, but I need to get my bag out the car."

"You brought a bag?" He smiled, looking at you with questioning eyes.

"Yes I brought a bag, I just got back from school yesterday." You said in a mocking voice, getting up from the table and grabbing yours keys. "Oh yeah I forgot you just got back home. I'll go get your bag."

You two sat in his bed, watching a movie, his hand resting on your knee. You already changed into more comfortable clothes. Everything had gone back to normal and that's what's eating you up inside. You can't stop thinking about that night— his scent, the way his finger twirled on your knee, it was all making it so hard to forget.

"So how did you get this house so fast?" You asked, trying to distract yourself as his fingers trailed up your skin, going higher to your thigh.

"Well, I have roommates, but they're not here." He said. His voice sounded more sensual, and his hand trailed up even higher, pushing the fabric to your shorts off your skin as he rubbed your upper thigh. You turned to look at him, his dark eyes already on you. You remembered this exact look and what it meant, and god did it drive you crazy for him to give you that look again, but you couldn't.

"Chenle, you saw what happened last time we did this. Let's just keep this strictly friends and that's all."

"I understand." He smiled in response, taking his hand off your thigh and nodding. The atmosphere was a little awkward, but died down as the movie ended. You look beside you and he was out like a light so you decided to just turn off the tv and slip on your eye mask. Typically you don't sleep with it on, but he has this obnoxious lamp in his room that makes you unable to sleep. You tucked yourself in under his cover and fell asleep soon after.

Chenle always had a habit of waking up in the middle of the night during his sleep, typically he just scrolled on his phone till he could sleep again, and it was no different this time around, even if you were laying beside him.

He couldn’t help to keep glancing down at your body though, the covers hugging your curves, your chest moving up and down as you breathed softly. Your hand rested on his torso unknowingly, but he tried to not think about it, gearing his attention back to his phone.

“chen- chenle.” you moaned out quietly.

“…Y/n?” He glanced at you, whispering quietly, but you didn’t say anything so he thought he was just hearing things— well, he wanted to think he was just hearing things. He couldn’t help but to get a little riled up though, even just hearing your voice drove him a little insane, so you know how much a moan could have an effect on him.

“chenle…please don’t stop.” You moaned out again, a little louder than the first time. He couldn’t help turning off his phone and looking at you. He couldn’t see if you were awake due to your eye mask, but he thought you were maybe trying to play a joke on him, maybe even trying to tease on purpose, but your body said differently.

Your mouth was slightly parted as you gripped the cover with one of your hands, your thighs were rubbing against themselves trying to find a hint of pleasure. He couldn’t control himself, not seeing you like this in front of him, hearing you moan his name again, all needy just for him. He needed you, and he had to face that— and obviously you weren’t thinking any differently, even if your mind told you that you were.

“Y/n.” He shook your body.

You lifted up your head, pulling the eye mask off your face to be met with Chenle’s eyes on yours, and there it was, that look. “You were sleep talking.” His eyes never left yours as he spoke, his voice was raspy and deeper than usual. You started to panic, hoping you didn’t say anything about him, you just tried to pretend nothing happened, but it was clear he heard something.

“Oh, I’m sorry.” You smiled, slipping your mask back on— honestly, you just wanted to avoid this as much as possible, but he didn’t let you. Before you could turn around fully he grabbed your face, cupping it with one of his hands making you face towards him. You tried to take off your eye mask again, but he grabbed your hand, pinning it to the bed. You couldn’t see anything, but you felt his lips softly trailing over your skin.

“What were you dreaming about?”

you

“I- I don’t remember.” You felt his breath on your neck, trailing further down to your collar bone, making you shiver.

You tried to sound calm and genuine as possible, but his lips brushed against your neck ever so slightly as he moved back up to your face and it almost made you fall apart. His hand that was once cupping your face found its way around your throat. “Stop lying.” He squeezed lightly, causing a light, breathy moan to escape your lips accidentally. “I’m not lying.” The hand that was holding down your wrist was now roaming around your body, slipping under your pajamas pants into your underwear, sliding a finger in between your folds.

“So wet, just for me.” You could feel him smile into your cheek, before he kissed it. “Chenle.” You moaned out, melting into his embrace. “But wait,” he removed his hands and lips from your body, a smirk panting his face as he watched your lip tremble with desire.

“Strictly friends and that’s all, right?” He said in a teasing tone, obviously trying to get in your head, but you did say that so there was nothing you could do, well nothing he could do.

You laid on your back, feeling so desperate that you were willing to do anything to release— plus, you two already have done things so who cares anymore. Your hand slipped lower and lower, sliding into your underwear. You toyed with your clit causing you to let out a small moan as you felt a relief from wanting to feel any kind of pleasure.

“Are you touching yourself?” His voice rung in your ears, making you even more needy. You just ignored him as you started to circle your sensitive bud with your finger.

“You’re that desperate huh? That much of a desperate slut?”

Even though it was only once, it turned you on so much when he talked to you like that, and now was no different, and you didn’t try to hide that. You slipped a finger in your aching hole that was begging for attention, letting out a loud cry as you went in and out slowly.

He couldn’t help but to be turned on by you too, slipping his pants down exposing his hard on.

“I bet you wished it was my fingers don’t you.” He sighed out, pumping his length slowly as he looked at what unfolded in front of him. “Mhm.” You moaned out, his words only making you go faster.

“God you look so pretty, all desperate for me.” You couldn’t see what he was doing, but your moans weren’t the only ones filling the room, so you assumed that he was getting off to you as well.

“Take off your pants, I want to see you finger yourself, fuck.” You took no time, removing your pants with your free hand, throwing them to the side. You could feel him move closer to you, gripping the sheets beside you as he slid your underwear down to your knees.

“Can you go faster for me?” He let out a breathless moan as you started to go faster, your arousal coating your fingers making him go even more crazy. “Want to be inside you again so bad— all I can think about.” His voice was becoming needier and needier by the second as he slowly reached his high, pumping faster as your moans seeped into your brain, filling it with dirty thoughts.

“Fuck I can’t take it.” You threw your head back, biting your bottom lip as you almost reached your high. “You look so pretty when you finish, keep going for me, wanna see you cum so bad.” He said in a tired moan. You let out a loud whimper, legs shaking as you fingered yourself faster to his words. No matter how overwhelming it felt, you just couldn’t stop, you needed more.

“Chenle.” You said, your chest heaving up and down from the intense pleasure that washed over your body.

“Yes Y/n.”

“Please, just fuck me.” He drove you insane, no matter what you did, how much you tried to fight it, you couldn’t and he couldn’t either. “I want to, I really do, but you said strictly friends— I don’t want you to regret this.” He turned to look at you.

“Chenle… we’ll never be strictly friends, fuck me.” He took no time getting on top of you. You tried to remove the mask off your eyes once again, but failed when he pinned your hands down beside your head.

He planted kisses on your cheek again, leaving your lips bare as you hungrily wanted to taste him. He slowly kissed down your jawline to your neck, teasing you as your legs brushed against his. He flipped your hands over, interlocking his fingers with yours as he kissed up your face again, going to your ear.

“Gonna make you feel so good, you want it, yeah?” He whispered softly causing you to almost turn him over and just ride him yourself.

“Yes. Please, I want it bad.” He smiled on your skin, releasing one of your hands to adjust his tip at your hole, pushing himself into you. “Fuck.” You whined out, your skin flushing with pleasure. “You take me so well.” He moaned out as he slowly thrusted in and out of you. The thrust were so much more passionate than the last time, so much more loving, it made you see stars.

“Does it feel good baby?” You felt his breath on your cheek, his fingers intertwined with yours, pushing your hands deeper into the pillows. “So good.” You moaned out as the thrust got faster and filled with more anticipation. You couldn’t even see him, and he was still making every inch of your body feel good.

“Fuck, you’re such a dirty girl— having dreams about me. Is this what you dream about huh? Me using you like this?” It was something about the way he spoke to you like this that made you yearn for more, that made you go numb. “Mhm.” You moaned out, causing him to go at a speed that you thought was impossible, hitting your g-spot at a perfect angle, his hands now wrapped around your wrist pinning them down.

“You’re such a slut for me.” He smiled into your skin, giving your cheek another messy kiss. “Only for you.” You clenched around him, almost reaching you high, making him whimper out in desperation as his thrust started to get sloppier. “I’m almost there Chenle.” You cried out, throwing your head back as your moans grew louder. “Fuck, take this off, I want to look at you when you cum.” He snatched the eye mask off your face, looking at your glossy eyes with a smirk on his face, soon turning into a gasp.

Your eyes rolled back as your legs started to shake under his. Your lip quivered from overwhelming pleasure as he hit more thrust after you reached your high. “Fuck.” He whimpered out, hitting a few more quick thrust, emptying himself inside of you, burrowing his head in your neck as he came. He stayed inside of you for a second as you two caught your breaths.

“I want you so bad Y/n. I want to be yours.” He looked at you, everything still and quiet for a moment.

You’ve wanted to hear those words since freshman year, you didn’t even know what to say and he could tell. He leaned down, kissing your lips passionately, like he wanted to do all night, smiling before laying beside you.

“We can talk about this tomorrow, ok?”

You thought it was honestly a dream, it had to be, but there you sat, in front of your crush of 5 years, finally dating, at the very beach where it all started.

It took 2 rejections, 2 hookups, and one break, but here you are, with him.

You look up at him, he's already looking at you and grabs your hand. "You look beautiful, has anybody told you that?" His face now in a smile. "Thank you." You said as you turned towards him, the deep blue ocean in front of you, suffocating on your breath as you feel his fingers leave your hand and slowly drag up your arm. "You're welcome", he says as he grabs your waist pulling you towards him. "What are you doing Chenle?" You laugh as he pulls you closer to his body. “Just kiss me.” He smiles, but this time— it’s not a dream.

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space-mango-company · 20 days

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Stranger | Chapter 5

Chapter Links: [1], [2], [3], [4], [5]

TW: Descriptions of Violence, Mentions of Cannibalism

Tags: Feyd-Rautha Harkonnen x Atreides!Reader, Arranged Marriage, Eventual Smut, POV Second Person, No use of y/n, Original Characters, Canon What Canon

Word Count: 2.3k

A/N: Not proofread!! Holy moly. Here it is, folks. The scene that inspired this whole fic. I had fun writing this so I really hope you enjoy it. Once again, I appreciate everyone who likes, comments, and/or leaves kudos so much. I really started this fic for myself but good golly, that dopamine rush whenever I get a notif might be more addicting than spice. I'm glad to be part of the bald man brigade.

Also, I can't believe I'm only now questioning why I decided to write this in the second person? I guess maybe I thought this fic would be a lot shorter and not that deep, lol. At this point 'y/n' probably has enough personality to just be a straight-up OC. It's funnier because I don't even find second-person or y/n fics any more engaging either. I always detach myself by giving 'y/n' her own name and only seeing her as a character in the fic.

ANYWAY, sorry to ramble. Stay safe and have a good one, ya weirdos.

You step out into the dark cul-de-sac of the guest hall, illuminated only by the large suspensor lamp in the middle. Feyd-Rautha looks you up and down, seemingly entranced by how the dim light casts his shadow on your modest dress. Atreides green, he recognized.

"Trying to sneak into my rooms again?" you say arms crossed, leaning on your door. "I didn't appreciate the last time, by the way."

"It's my house," he says cooly, "and I did knock this time."

You stare at him indifferently.

"Quite the display from you yesterday morning, using The Voice on me." His voice low and raspy, "I should have you drawn and quartered."

You scoff in his face. "You almost choked me to death. Are you trying to start a war?"

He takes a step closer and his face is inches from yours, you can feel his breath on your cheek, "I didn't think I'd like you this much, little hawk."

"What do you want, Feyd-Rautha?" you had no patience for him right now.

"Ah," he steps back, a dark smile on his face, "I've been waiting to hear my name from your tongue." His hand reaches for your lips. "I've grown quite tired of 'na-Baron'."

You grab his wrist before he can touch you. "If you're only here to toy with me, I would rather be left alone to prepare for bed." You release his hand and turn to open your door.

Feyd-Rautha props an arm against the doorway to block you. "We're to be married in three days," he says, "and I just can't seem to bring myself to let go of my 'harpies', as you called them." He meets your gaze. "You said you'd kill them. Did you mean that?"

You look up at him with steely eyes. He towered over you but your heart felt no fear, "Yes."

His coy smile returns. "Good. Come to my training hall tomorrow," he says, walking away.

"What?" you call after him.

"Dress to fight," he says over his shoulder. "I want to see what you can do, Atreides."

You needed no help from Zora in putting on a loose shirt and long pants. The plain beige outfit certainly wasn't as elegant as the dresses you had been wearing so far. But it was comfortable and you could fight in it, which was all that mattered. Still, you look yourself in the mirror. The soft, airy fabrics draped over your figure well but perhaps you were not in the best shape as you once were. Your muscle mass is much less than your brother's and he wasn't particularly built himself. You admit you did wane off your training sessions with Gurney and Paul leading up to your departure from Caladan. Nevertheless, you were still a skilled warrior. Another secret you've been keeping from the Harkonnens.

You were 14 when you started learning the blade. Watching Paul, 2 years your senior, practice with the Atreides Warmaster lit a fire in you. You didn't hesitate to pester your father to let you train with them and of course, there was nothing he could deny his darling daughter. You were a fierce and determined student. Gurney Halleck was a man you genuinely believed to be one of the best fighters in the Imperium, along with Duncan Idaho. Gurney would train you and Paul on even days. On odd days, your mother would teach you the Weirding Way. These lessons, much like the rest of your mother's teachings, your father wanted to know nothing about. After becoming decently adept at Prana-Bindu and gaining almost complete physical control of your body, Lady Jessica insisted that you also be skilled in the Bene Gesserit style of combat.

You were far from mastery in either but the combination of both trainings made you a formidable fighter. Despite this, you could never seem to beat your brother in a sparring match. A fact that frustrated you to no end, though you appreciated that Paul never went easy on you. You'd always blame it on him having trained for longer than you have. But in truth, you knew there had just always been something special about him.

"Are you ready, my lady?" Zora's soft voice wakes you from your thoughts.

"Hm? Right. Yes, let's go." You quickly tie your hair out of the way and grab your father's dagger from atop your dresser.

There was no fanfare when you entered the hall. On one end, the na-Baron's concubines sat chained on the steps of the shallow recessed pit in their leathers, their glares piercing through you. Your eyes linger on them as Feyd-Rautha and his Warmaster greet you.

"I was starting to think my lady bride was bluffing," Feyd-Rautha says as you approach him. The older man beside him offers you a polite bow.

"Perhaps she wasn't so keen on your brutish games," you bite back. "Your lord uncle won't be joining us?"

"No," Feyd-Rautha crosses his arms, "but he'll be hearing about your victory. Or your demise."

"Right. Well, I assume you'll be releasing them from those chains," you nod towards his pets "Not sure why they're necessary."

"Oh, trust me, little hawk. They're necessary." Feyd-Rautha motions to a servant.

"Your blade and shield, my lady," they bow, presenting you with a knife and a small device you recognize as a Holtzman shield.

"I've brought my own," you unsheath your father's dagger. You contemplate taking the shield but remembering that the na-Baron forwent it during his gladiator fight, you decide to do so as well. "They've no weapons anyway, the shield seems pointless."

Feyd-Rautha shrugs, "If you insist."

You take a deep breath, "Let's get this over with."

You lightly stretch as you walk down the steps of the shallow pit to stand opposite the na-Baron's concubines. You had come into this on the pretense of righteousness. For Iassa, you told yourself. But you've known her a mere two days. A part of you wanted to show off. You were good and you knew it. You could probably kill anyone in this room, even Feyd-Rautha. You craved the respect of the people here: the Harkonnens, the people of Geidi Prime. You figured this was one way to get it.

Feyd-Rautha walks around the pit to one of his concubines and kneels to whisper something in her ear. You assume a fighting stance when he moves to release her from the chains. When you meet her eyes, they are filled with feral bloodlust.

Suddenly, you weren't so bold. The veil of courage you have maintained since you arrived, even when Feyd-Rautha had your neck in his grip, is torn apart when you face this woman. You could tell no part of her would hesitate to rip your throat out with her bare teeth. You were almost relieved they were unarmed, but you weren't sure if that would make them any less lethal.

Fear grew in your chest and you had less than a moment to recite the Litany in your head before the concubine lunged at you.

You crouch down in time and slash at her abdomen as she approaches you. You turn to face her on the other side of the pit and she wastes no time in attacking you again. She attempts to grab your armed hand but you take hold of her wrist first and move to pin it behind her back. Quickly, your blade drags across her throat and she falls to your feet.

The kill has not yet registered in your mind but your heart is racing. You can almost hear your blood coursing through your veins. You held your arms outstretched, your eyes focused ahead, ready for the next one.

Across the pit, Feyd-Rautha licks his lips, smiling as he releases his second concubine. This time, you walk toward her while she moves to attack you. You clock her head with the pommel of your dagger and knock her a few steps back. She reaches a hand to wipe the blood beginning to drip out of her nose. After examining it, she snarls and bares her sharp teeth at you. Your mind is blank now. She dodges your first slash then manages to land a blow to your jaw. You seethe from the pain. You spit out the mixture of blood and saliva filling your mouth. The anger at the hit drives you to rush at her. Seeing an opening, you duck down to her waist and stab her twice. As she falls to her knees, the look of determination doesn't leave her eyes until the very last moment.

When you turn around, Feyd-Rautha has already released the last concubine. The ruthless scream she lets out disorients you. She pounces and knocks you over. She straddles you and pins your arms to the ground, your blade sliding inches away. She screams again in your face at the death of her sisters. You wedge your right knee between you and her abdomen, the only thing keeping her teeth from reaching your throat. You grunt as you struggle to free your hands. In your periphery, you see Feyd-Rautha, wielding his own blade, take a step into the pit.

"GET BACK," you roar, and he is powerless to refuse.

You turn back to your opponent still on top of you and you butt her head with your own. She loosens her grip and you kick her off to hastily crawl to your weapon. When she reorients herself and attempts to grab you again, you hook a knee under her arm and flip the both of you over. With your weight on her chest and both your knees pinning her arms down, she thrashes underneath you, claws digging into your right ankle. You take your blade in both hands and her screaming is silenced when you sink your knife deep into her heart.

When you rise, the room is quiet. Your chest heaves. The stark white ceiling lights don't help the lightheadedness that begins to wash over you in the post-adrenaline rush. Feyd-Rautha says something from behind you but his speech is garbled as you reel from the thrill of what just transpired. You were electrified. You almost... wanted more.

Then, the realization of the revolting scene you are in settles upon you and you are knocked off your high. You look at the leather-clad bodies scattered around you, the grotesque way they lay on the floor, the red blood pooling around them made brighter by the sterile grayness of the room. You did this.

A hand on your shoulder snaps you out of it. In reflex, you turn and raise your blade at the offender.

Feyd-Rautha holds his hands up, "Whoa, easy, Atreides. Trying to kill me? Don't want to start a war, do you?"

You yield your weapon. Your eyes dodge his as you look to your feet and try to steady your breathing.

"Enjoy your first taste of blood?" Feyd-Rautha says, the look in his eyes indecipherable to you. He raises a hand and swipes his thumb on your cheek. It comes away covered in crimson.

You gasp and reach for your face with your own hand. You don't even know if it's your blood or theirs, or when it got on you. Your heart pounded, unable to decide whether you were repulsed or proud.

"Look at you," he says licking the red off his finger. You could not help but stare at him through the strands of your hair that had come undone in the fighting. "You're beautiful like this," his hand reaches for your face again.

"No," you say low and quiet when you swat his hand away, "you're sick." You didn't know if you meant him or yourself. You calmly turn to leave. No one stops you when you make your way up the shallow steps of the pit. As you pass Iassa—no, Zora—by the doorway, you tell her flatly, "Prepare a bath."

You had never taken a life before. Today, you took three. You were glad you didn't know their names. You decided you'd never find out.

After Zora pours a final pitcher of hot water into the bath, you tell her, "You may go. I'll dress myself later, thank you."

She bows and makes her way out of your rooms.

In your solitude, you bring your knees to your chest. You had been quick to wipe the blood off your cheek before you even reached your quarters. Now, you cup the water into your hands and rub it into your face, the slight sting of the heat comforting you.

He was a cruel man, your betrothed. This is what you've decided. Having you kill the concubines he claimed to want to keep so much. But wasn't it you who threatened to kill them? He started it, you argue with yourself, when he had Iassa killed. You felt like a child.

When you used to hear of Feyd-Rautha's exploits, you had to mask your disgust. And yet now, you had killed so easily in that pit as he had in the arena. What was this place doing to you?

When you left Caladan, Paul had never killed anyone either. You wonder if he ever does, would he feel the same exhilaration you did when you slit that first concubine's throat. No. Your brother was fierce but, like your father, he had a good heart. You beat him by three. You hoped it would stay that way.

You think about your future here, marrying Feyd-Rautha. Producing heir after heir under the Baron's watchful eye. You were a broodmare. Despite all your fancy training and education. Despite your little demonstration earlier. It was the bitter truth.

You missed home. You missed walking along the beach at night with your father. You missed your mother's gentle hands brushing your hair. You missed the banter and teasing with your brother. You missed Gurney, and Duncan, and the cold breeze on your balcony, and getting to roam free and going anywhere you pleased. When the tears come, you sink deep into the bath so they might fade away in the water.

Chapter Links: [1], [2], [3], [4], [5]

Taglist: @torchbearerkyle @austinswhitewolf @dreamlandcreations @emeraldsgirl @strawberryfieldsforevermore @bornslippys @vexis-world @aoi-targaryen @alexandrainlove @mamawiggers1980 @sstardussty @aboutthenabaron

#feyd rautha x reader #feyd rautha x you #feyd rautha fic #feyd rautha #feyd rautha harkonnen #atreides reader #dune #dune part two #space-mango-company #fic: stranger

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scarletrosesstuff · 8 months

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Younger Woman

John Price x Younger!Fem!Reader

Summary: Soap was casually scrolling through Instagram and saw a video posted with someone he thought he recognised. .

Warnings: Age gap (Reader is 18+), swearing, fluff & tattooed Price.

No one knew anything about Price's private life. He never spoke of anything outside of work. They all questioned him, about his life, his sex life and his family life. But he never gave anything away.

He didn't see the point, you were his. He wanted his work life and private life separate. He loved you and wanted to keep you safe from anything to do with his other life.

The only two people who knew about you were Laswell and Nik. He trusted them the most, but also you were his emergency contact in case anything were to happen to him.

They both were a little sceptical with you at the start seeing how much younger you were compared to Price. They worried you were only in the relationship for money and military benefits. But that wasn't the case, they saw how you looked at each other with so much love and care they quickly forgot about their initial thoughts.

They promised Price they'd never mention you in front of anyone, not even his own squad. He felt bad for not sharing but he just wasn't ready for that part of his life to be so open.

But what Price didn't think would happen, happened.

Before you even met Price you had an influencer lifestyle, you made videos of yourself baking, and general lifestyle content. John didn't see an issue with it, he was impressed you had a successful career at such a young age.

The only thing John wouldn't allow was his face to be on camera. You promised you wouldn't but checked it was okay you could film without his face which he agreed. And it had worked until a video you posted while he was away on a mission.

He saw the notification and smiled. He opened it up to see that it was a compilation of your holiday in Italy. It was mostly of you that he filmed or you had filmed but the clip caught his attention. He didn't worry, he smiled seeing you lay on his chest in the sun. You looked so happy and relaxed as you placed a soft kiss against his chest.

He felt a boost of pride that it was only him who made you feel like that. He casually went to the comments seeing people complementing you and him being such a cute couple. But then saw a familiar name comment on the video.

It was Soap tagging Gaz and Ghost in the comments with a caption saying. 'That tattoo looks a lot like Prices.' Price froze as he watched the video again seeing the videos of him without his face but his tattoos on full show. He started to panic, he knew it wasn't your fault but he knew you should have been more careful.

John started to think of ways to hide it when he heard a knock on his office door. "Yeah!" He shouted as Soap let himself in with a smirk. "What is it you want?"

"Not much just wanted to check in."

"Really?" John said frowning. He folded his arms up against his chest. "Why is that?"

"Not much… How was your break?" Soap asked casually seeing opposite Price. He crossed his legs up against the desk.

"Fine." He grunted out.

"Go anywhere nice, you looked like you caught a tan?"

"As i matter of fact I did."

"Italy by chance?" Soap asked smirking as Price sighed pinching the bridge of his nose to calm himself.

"Yep." He gave him a one-word answer.

"It looked nice. She's quite young."

"What?"

"The lass in the video is a bit young for you."

"It's none of your business." He smirked liking the fact that he had you in his life. He felt so young around you.

"You dirty dog!" Soap laughed seeing the smirk on John's face. "How long have you been keeping this private?"

"About a year."

"I have so many questions. First of all, how did you meet her?"

"She moved in next to me, and I helped her move in."

"Nice. And also when can we meet this girl?"

"Never."

"What?! Why?!" Soap felt a little offended.

"I don't want you scaring her away."

"If anyone is to scare her away it would be Ghost, not me."

"Well, we'll never find out because you'll never meet her." Just as he said that the phone rang. Your face lit up his screen. Soap quickly took it away from him and answered the phone.

"Hello Lass." He shouted down the finally.

"Erm… Hi, is John there?" You asked confused with the voice who answered.

"I'll it on pass to lover boy." Price snatched the phone out of his hand and pointed towards his door. "Fuck off." Soap put his hands up in defence.

"Alright am going. But am being serious Price, Good on ya for getting that lass." He said before leaving. Price softly smiled when he heard your voice speak to him.

"Hi love, sorry about that."

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megantheebaddest · 3 months

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Ghostin’

summary: anon request - need a drew x reader where she’s also a famous actress and got introduced to drew by madeline but upon knowing eachother , she finds out drew is messing with odessa and she just ends up ghosting him and never speaking to him and doesn’t know why reader hasn’t talked to him!

warnings: Odessa 🤣

“How are you and Drew doing? I feel like you never update me anymore.” Madelyn said pouting out her lower lip. She was sitting on the couch wrapped under the blanket you two were sharing.

“Yeah. Not much to update you on. Apparently he’s really busy filming his movie.” You shrug and start fumbling with your fingers. “i’ve asked him a handful of times when i can come visit him while i’m off from filming but..”

Madelyn scrunched her eyebrows as if she knew something. Your eyes met hers and you started to panic.

“What? Why do you look like that?” you questioned.

“Well.. i don’t know. i just.. i’ve seen Odessa visited him a couple times. It was on her finsta. Didn’t you see it?” Madelyn had a worried expression on her face.

“Wait what? I absolutely did not see that. I’ve been asking him but don’t want to seem too clingy.. Why would he ask her to come there when i’ve been specifically asking?” You asked, immediately entering instagram to search her page. “Aha.. i’m blocked?” You said showing Maddie your phone.

“Listen Drew told me not to say anything because he told me it was a thing of the past but… They used to hook up.. Like pretty often.” Madelyn was now on instagram on her phone looking it up to show you. “Oh look she just posted this 12 minutes ago on her story.” She turned the phone to show a picture of dinner plates at a fancy restaurant and you could see Drew’s perfectly big hands with his rings on. The location was tagged too, the precise location he was filming at.

You decided to text him to see how it goes…

“Okay so he’s lying to me.. But i don’t even understand why?” You showed Madelyn the phone.

She scrunched her eyebrows this time in an angry way. “I don’t understand either? He practically begged me to introduce him to you. He always talked about being a huge fan of your work and that I was so lucky to know you. I don’t know why he’s acting like this. I’m sorry Y/n, I should have known better.”

“No Maddie please don’t apologize!! We aren’t even a thing so pretty much he has every right to be hanging out with her or whoever, ya know? I just don’t get the point of lying to me and her blocking me.”

“I know exactly why she did it… She feels threatened. Anytime he meets a new friend, ESPECIALLY if it’s a girl she goes crazy! Like she’s very territorial of him. I don’t know how he doesn’t notice it.”

“Yeah that’s strange.. I definitely do not want to deal with that.”

_________

A few days pass and you still never received a call or even a text from Drew. You were on your way heading to the set of the latest film you were working on for Netflix. You were scrolling on twitter when you were interrupted by Drew’s name popping up on your screen. You instantly declined the call sending it straight to voicemail. Now that he wasn’t occupied by Odessa he has the time for you and you weren’t about that. You were both in the phase of still getting to know each other but with all of this happening and him straight up lying to you about something, not even serious, you realize you don’t want to get past this phase. You don’t want to know/involve yourself with someone like that. He sent you a text which you happily ignored (you loved that you had your read notification on), getting out of the car and heading on set.

Finishing up for the day you had another text from Drew.

This went on for days.. You had no interest replying anytime soon.

#drew starkey #drew starkey imagine #drew starkey fic #drew starkey x female reader #drew starkey x y/n #drew starkey x you #texting drew starkey #anon request #send requests #megantheebaddest

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siriusleee · 9 months

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Like Blood on Iron | Part 4

Historical Executioner AU

Summary: The executioner has always been an enigma to you - drawing you in. His sword drawing a line in the dirt as he made his way to the village center, and leaving back to his cottage on the outskirts of town. However, your curiosity can't stop the future your family has planned for you.

Warnings: smut, female x male sex, blood, death, decapitation

Word Count: 5.6k

A/N: Three very important updates for you guys, please read:

My tag list has gotten way longer than I'd ever expected it to get. Honestly, I thought I'd have like 3 readers and that's it. It is taking me almost an hour to get everyone tagged, update the tag list, and go back to old posts and comment to people who Tumblr won't let me tag. Because of this I will no longer be doing a tag list. In an effort to make this easier on myself and get these posts out faster, please subscribe to my Ko-fi page OR enable notifications for when I post. Subscribing to Ko-fi costs nothing, and I do not expect you to send me any money. It's just the one page I have that I can send out quick updates.

However, I am currently super poor. For anyone that doesn't know, I am an English Literature teacher. This year I moved from middle school to high school, and buying all the supplies that I need for this new grade level is killing me. I am working at a part-time job to afford it, but if you can and want to, I'd love it if you donated. I just bought $40 worth of glue sticks; it's very expensive. You can donate through my Ko-fi. Thank you to @gazs-blue-hat and @devcica for donating to my wisdom teeth surgery - I just made the first payment; I love you guys.

I did not edit this. I literally finished and am hitting post; school starts tomorrow and the first 3 weeks are so exhausting, I will be going to bed at 4 p.m. each day. So I wanted to get this out to you. Adamantine Chains will have a new chapter posted tomorrow. If you see any egregious errors, please point them out and I will fix them. previous chapters + future preview: - one - two - three - preview

The sound of Lily's soft breath in your ear tries to lull you to sleep, tries to force your jaw to relax but you can't. For the first time since your outburst with Jonathan, Lily had crept into the bedroom the two of you used to share. She had curled into your side; her breathing wasn't even before the door cracked open again and Maggie snuck in to sandwich Lily between yourself and her.

Lily's hair tickles your shoulder as you keep your eye on the window - the warmth is fading faster each night, but when you tried to close it before you went to bed you couldn't bring yourself to do it. You needed the feeling of the cool air in the room.

"Are you going to watch?"

Maggie's voice is so quiet it seems to get carried away by the wind. The bed shifts as she turns to look at you over the crown of Lily's head peeking above the covers. You turn, fingers brushing Lily's hair out of your way. In the darkness, Maggie's eyes gleam at you.

"I don't know. He told me not to, but I think Father will make us."

Maggie breathes in sharply - once - just enough for you to know whatever she's about to say angers her.

"I think Father is making everyone go. Why did he tell you not to go?"

You want to tell her his name - as much as you know - is Ghost. To call him by his name, but you keep that information tucked close to your chest.

"I don't know; he didn't say."

The conversation hangs in the air between the two of you, floating with the dust that blows in from the windowsill. Maggie's eyes burn across to you before she rolls back away from you, her hair dark against the pillow, curling down her neck. Mirroring her you roll away, eyes focused on the silver starlight you can see out the window.

You awake to soft hands shaking you awake; through your sleep you see Mother pressing one finger to her lip. Her eyes say it all to you - it's time. You slip out of bed leaving the warmth of Lily behind as the cool morning washes over the bare skin that shows from your nightgown. Mother hands you a dress, a thick black one. The same one you knew Maggie wore two years ago when Father's mother died.

You pad out the room behind her, trying not to wake Lily up. You let the bedroom door shut softly behind you before you speak.

"I have to go?"

"Lily is staying behind with the Morris girls. Your father expects the rest of us to be there." Mother's voice is tight; she's already dressed in a black dress, simple and loose fitting. She refuses to make eye contact with you as she speaks. "I will be downstairs. You have to be dressed soon."

You dress quickly, ducking back into the room to grab your boots and underdress. Back in the hallway, Maggie crosses you, dark purple shadowing under her eyes - you expect the same exhaustion to be painted across your face.

The temperature feels twenty degrees colder downstairs; you wrap your arms around yourself. Father is absent from his place at the table. A single slice of toast sits in front of Maggie, the neatest nibble taken from one corner. You drop down across from her and neither of you speak.

A knock at the door jolts your heart - you shove away from the table before Maggie can. On the other side stands Mrs. Morris and her two daughters, still in their sleeping clothes and barely awake. Without her having to ask, you take one of the girls from her; Mrs. Morris follows you quietly to your bedroom where you tuck both girls in beside Lily. They fall asleep almost immediately.

On your way out of the room, you shut the window, pulling the latch down so that they can't see outside.

You wait at the dining table with Maggie; Mother and Mrs. Morris speak quietly in the kitchen. When the morning bell tolls, the two of them emerge out of the kitchen. You and Maggie follow behind them, pulling your cloaks off the hook by the front door when you pass by. You wish instead to have Ghost's cloak, the heavy and warm scent of him enveloping you instead of the cold wool you wrap around your shoulders.

The four of you fall in line with the rest of the village, letting the wave of bodies push you toward the town center. Each step you take is heavier, harder to take than the one before. Ghost's voice, warning you not to come, not to watch, rings in your ear with a high-pitched drone that grows louder with each moment. The square is almost full whenever you arrive; you let yourself get pushed away from your Mother and Maggie until you're situated near the far side of the square, right where Ghost will first walk in.

The crowd tries to situate themselves as the council shuffles onto the platform. Your father stands at the back, face pale and empty. Even from this distance, you can see the tremor in his hands as he walks. Behind him, shackled in heavy iron chains, Uncle Henry walks up the platform escorted by two men you've never seen before. His face is gaunt and slack, his lip torn and blood dripping onto his chin.

The abject horror of it hits you all at once and you realize why Ghost had warned you not to come. All at once you think about the executions you had sat in your bedroom trying to strain to see, all the times you watched Ghost come up the street eager to get a glimpse of him and all the families that had been in the same place as yours is now. You think of all the times Father left his boots outside after execution and wonder if blood had splashed on them. You feel sick, horrified. You want to search out the families who had been ripped apart by the executions and beg for their forgiveness.

A hush falls over the crowd like a velvet blanket pulled up too high. You strain past the ringing in your ears to try to hear the heavy sound of boots that you've gotten used to hearing in the midnight light. The sound is different now, leadened and sinister. Drawing your hood over your head you keep your eyes fixed on the point you know Ghost will emerge from.

He seems to dwarf everyone in the crowd when he arrives, sword glinting in the early morning sunlight. You're torn between trying to press closer to him and pulling away as the thought of what he's about to do courses through you. He walks slowly, regret heavy in each of his steps as he mounts the platform.

The head councilman speaks, but you can't hear him above the roar in your ears as you watch Ghost situate himself to the side of Uncle Henry. He turns his face towards the crowd and his eyes search through every person before they land on you. He shakes his head just a fraction of an inch, and you know he's telling you to look away - to walk away before he swings his sword.

But you're rooted to the spot - you can't move as the councilman stops speaking and Ghost raises his sword, his eyes still locked on yours.

There's a moment's pause when his sword reaches its apex - a moment where you hope he'll lower it down and walk away. But the sword falls heavy; you manage to clench your eyes shut at the right second, but you still hear the heavy sound of Uncle Henry's head hitting the wood, and your mother's scream.

When darkness falls, no one stops you from walking out the front door. Father had not come home - you knew he was burying Uncle Henry somewhere, and Mother had to be carried to bed by you and Maggie. Upstairs you'd heard Lily sobbing; Maggie was the only one to witness you slip out the front door.

The red that dripped off of Ghost's sword as he walked back home is long gone in the dust and daytime; even so, you imagine that you can see it trailing in front of you as you walk, tripping over stones in the dirt. There's betrayal here, you know, running away to the home of the man who executed your uncle, but you don't know anywhere else to go.

Eyes peer down at you from their windows as you pass through the village, but for once you don't care if anyone runs home to tell on you. You're not sure Mother or Father would even be able to comprehend what you were doing anyway.

Like he knew you were coming, Ghost sits on the step, hands folded neatly in front of him. He doesn't look up at you, doesn't rise until you're within touching distance. An empty glass sits at his side; without speaking, he pushes himself to a standing position, glass snagged up in his large hand. You don't wait for him to beckon you as he walks inside.

You grimace at the warmth of the whiskey as it goes down your throat. You had never liked the taste of alcohol, but when Ghost sat it down in front of you you had reached for it without hesitation. The glass is heavy in your hand.

"I told you not to come," Ghost says, lowering himself down into the seat across from you. His voice is stern, but without any judgment for you attending the execution.

"I didn't have an option." You speak so quietly, you're not sure if he hears you over the wind and the crackle of the fire.

"You always have a choice."

"No, you always have a choice. You are a man; you don't understand what it's like to have someone dictate your entire life to you. I had no choice because my father said I had to go. And soon it won't be my father telling me what to do, but Jonathan. And I'll be shackled to a life of listening and obeying."

You shove the glass you'd drained towards Ghost, shaking your head at him when Ghost moves to fill it again.

"I'm sorry your father forced you to watch."

"My father," you pull your tangled hair over your shoulder, running your fingers through it to distract you from Ghost's eye burning at you over his mask, "thought that if we didn't come, it would show some level of guilt. I should be thankful that he let Lily stay home, but-"

"But what?"

"But I saw what the execution did to my mother. My mother is not a weak woman, but she didn't want to go. She can't do blood - it makes her sick for days. My father told me once it had to do with something she saw as a child, but wouldn't tell me more. She never attends the executions. But he forced her, knowing she's going to be regulated to the bed for the rest of the week. And I-"

You can't get the thought out - that you are a horrible person for how excited you used to be for the executions. Ghost waits patiently, leaning back in his chair, the wood creaking underneath him. You study the patterns of scarring on his fingers as they splay across the table. They're clean, no blood and dirt crusted beneath them.

"I am a horrible person," you finally sob out, fingers pressing into your eyes to try to press the tears that threaten to come out, "I have spent months waiting for an execution to come around; all I wanted to do was see you - I didn't think about everyone that was losing their life. Or their families, or you."

"Or me?" Ghost's voice is rough; you pull your fingers away from your eyes to look into his; they're dark and unreadable.

"I've never thought about what you must experience - doing the bidding of the council."

"I think you'll find I know more about being forced into doing things I don't want to do than you think."

The wind increases outside, the sound of leaves and sticks hitting the sides of Ghost's cabin. You wonder if it's Uncle Henry, angry with the town and determined to tear it apart.

"How did you end up here?" The question tumbles out of your mouth, and you feel ashamed as soon as you say it. Ghost's eyes flash, his nails dig into the wood of the table. You expect him to ignore you, but he pushes his hands into the collar of his tunic, and pulls out a necklace. With a flick of his wrist, he pulls it from around his neck and flings it to you. It lands a tangled mess in front of you.

"Read it." His voice is a solid command you follow, fingers tracing the edge of the cross as you pick it up; the metal chain snakes across the grain.

"Lieutenant Simon Riley - King's Guard 141st Division - you were in the King's army?"

"I was a part of the King's Guard; we were tasked with protecting the king when he traveled or during battle. There were four of us."

"What happened to the others?"

"I'm all that remains of the 141. We were-" his voice is whiskey thick, and when he swallows, you hear the heaviness of it, "ambushed. I was not able to save them. And so my punishment for not dying with my brothers was to live out my days as an executioner."

The metal is warm against your fingers, as you trace the engraved letters of his name. Simon Riley. Thoughts swirl in your head, and he seems to read them as you reach across the table to pass the necklace back.

"In this house you can call me Simon. Outside only Ghost."

The weight of the day - of Simon's background pushes against you. The small patterings of rain begin to hit the windows as you stand, taking your glass off of the table. You leave Simon as you refill the glass, bringing an extra for him. You drink yours in one go, refilling it again before you pass Simon his.

The corners of his eyes are tight as you step beside him, the glass held out to him. His hand wraps around your wrist, warm and electric. A stone settles in the pit of your stomach as a fire spreads across your skin from where he grabs you.

"You drink much more and you won't be able to make it up the path home."

"Just put me under the table then."

The corners of his eyes relax, and then turn up just slightly as he takes the glass from you with the hand not holding your wrist. He keeps you close to his side as he uses the hand with the glass to push his mask up just over his nose; the edge of a ragged scar peaking out on his cheek. He downs the drink in one go and grabs the glass you'd intended for yourself before finally letting you go.

You'd never enjoyed the way being drunk had made you feel, but as the world outside Simon's cabin swirls around you, you feel nothing but the warmth of the whiskey in your veins. The rain falls slow and heavy, warm despite the cool wind that had taken over the village. You reach one hand out to let the droplets pool into your palm, the rest of you shielded by the small awning above you.

The door opens behind you, the dim firelight spilling onto the rain soaked ground in front of you. The shape of Simon wraps its shadow around you along with the musky smell of him. You watch his shadow as he leans against the doorframe.

"We could run away together."

You had thought about it for a few weeks now. It had started out as a ridiculous fantasy - the two of you riding out on horse in the middle of the night and disappearing into the forest together. It had started out innocently enough, just the two of you escaping with each other, but now -

"Where would we even go?"

Simon's voice is soft, rolling through the rain drops as it passes by you. The timbre of it makes your mouth dry, or maybe it's the whiskey.

"Anywhere. Across the sea. Somewhere just far enough that know one would know who we are."

Simon's shadow ripples; you watch his shadow as he reaches to his chest, to where you know the cross hangs.

"You could go," he says, "but I will always be marked."

You don't know what he means, can't remember if he's told you something or not. But you let the reckless abandon that started building at you so much earlier in the day take over you. Simon's figure backed by the firelight makes your fingers itch to reach out and tangle them in the front of his tunic.

"But would you go?" You ask, voice rising and falling. "If you could, would you go with me?"

The silence stretches thin. Simon chews on the inside of his lip; the doorway groans beneath his fingers as they dig into the wood.

"You're drunk," he finally says, the words falling from him. "And you're not happy. I should take you home." His warm hand wraps around your elbow; you jerk it back and in your drunken state stumble. You try to catch yourself, but your feet slip. Simon tries to catch you, his hands wrapping around your elbow, but your feet tangle together and the two of you fall. Simon twists, getting his body halfway underneath yours.

The two of you land hard in the mud, your forehead clipping his chin. The two of you lay awkwardly, one of your hands on Simon's chest and the other buried in the mud. You try to push yourself up, hand slipping, to peer down at Simon lying beneath you. Mud is splattered across the exposed skin around his eyes. He reaches the hand that had wrapped around your back - the only part of him that has escaped the mud- to your forehead, fingers gently wiping away the warmth that had started to form there.

"You're bleeding."

"Is it deathly?

"I think you'll live."

He pulls his hand away, covered in your blood, and the rain washes it away slowly - the red tinge traveling down his wrist and disappearing into the hem of his tunic. You feel his heartbeat quicken in his chest as you shift so that you're straddling one of his legs.

"Can I ask for a favor Simon?" You swallow heavily, trying to swallow down the nervousness and embarrassment that's threatening to explode out of you.

"Anything."

A red blush starts to creep up your chest as you speak, each word measured and bitten off carefully - worried that if you speak too fast, Simon will disappear.

"I won't lie and say I haven't kissed my fair share of boys. But I've never - I've always been too worried to - to do anything more."

You feel Simon's thigh tense between your legs, and the feeling tightens the knot inside of you.

"If I'm going to be forced to give myself to someone I don't want to, I want to keep something for myself. I-"

Simon's hands tighten painfully around your waist; you hadn't even realized he'd grabbed you or that your hands had snuck down so that they framed his face, your wet hair creating a curtain between the two of you and the rest of the world.

"There are some things you can never take back - that you may regret."

"Why would I regret you?"

Your question cracks the tension between the two of you for weeks. You collide together, the kiss frenetic, your teeth clicking against each other as Simon tangles his hands in your hair and pulling you closer to him.

He pushes the two of you up, grabbing you beneath your thighs as he rolls and stands, pulling you up effortlessly. You wrap your legs around his waist as Simon stumbles back into the cabin. Your fingers tease the edge of his mask; Simon shakes his head and you pull them away, still worried that at any second he's going to tell you to go home.

Your shoulder hits the doorway of his bedroom, but you barely feel it as Simon kicks the door shut behind you, darkness enveloping the two of you. This time when you reach for his mask, Simon doesn't stop you from sliding it off of him. His hair is warm and wet; your fingers catch on the tangles there.

Simon presses your back against the doorway as he lowers yourself to your feet. You pull away from him, unable to catch your breath as your hands slide beneath his tunic. His skin is soft and scarred; you trace your fingers across a jagged one that bisects his chest. Simon's breath hitches when you trace it to his nipple, your fingers ghosting across the sensitive skin there.

Simon lets you pull his tunic off of him, his fingers tracing the lacing on the front of your dress. He hesitates there, waiting for you to say no, to push him away.

"You've seen me naked before," you whisper, trying to loosen the tension, your fingers curling around the waistband of his pants. "No reason to be nervous now."

"It's different," Simon says, pressing a kiss to the base of your neck, tongue trailing upwards to the shell of your ear, "to think about what it would be like to touch you, and actually doing it."

His admission that he's thought about you like that - the same way you had shamefully thought of him on nights alone in your bed - sends a spear of want through you. You pull him closer, straining to reach up and kiss him again, but Simon keeps himself away.

"You can go home," he whispers in your ear, teeth nipping the sensitive flesh, "I wouldn't be angry with you. I would find no fault with you at all."

And you know he's telling the truth - if you said so at any point, he'd let you leave and wouldn't hold it against you. But you can't even entertain the idea - the instinct to wrap yourself around him, to claw at him and at yourself until the two of you are open for each other, is too much.

You reach up and place your hands over his, guiding them so that they pull at the laces of your dress, the bodice falling open. You shrug out of it, letting it pool at your feet as you kick it away. Simon's hands linger chastely at your side, fingers barely skimming your skin.

"I'm not breakable Simon."

"Of course you are," Simon sighs as you trace your fingers softly up his neck and to his cheek. His breath hitches as your fingers tease the edge of the scar you'd caught a glimpse of earlier when the two of you were drinking. You trace it, trying to map the features of his face. It ends at his hairline, a second scar bisecting it.

"It's my cross to bear." Simon's voice rumbles deep; you can feel it in your chest. "It's my mark as an executioner - the righteous hand of God."

I will always be marked, he had said earlier and you realize what he'd meant.

Simon wraps his hands around the back of your knees; he pulls you up until you're forced to wrap your legs around his waist to keep from falling. He kisses you again, clumsy - you can feel him shaking beneath the soft skin of your hands. He pulls your hair so that your neck is exposed to him; Simon trails kisses down, nipping at your collarbone.

He's hot, his skin and mouth burning you up. You try to grind yourself against him, to get some sort of friction, but Simon's hands keep you just far enough away from him to drive you crazy. His knees hit the side of the bed and buckle; he drops you gently to the bed. The dark scent of him, and the whiskey that still pulls at you makes your head swim.

Simon's hands are firm on your knees as he pushes them apart and pinning you down.

"If I start to hurt you-"

"Simon, please."

He presses your thighs down harder to the bed, stopping your squirming.

"It can hurt. If I start to hurt you, I need you to say something; I need you to promise that you will."

His fingers have inched upwards and you try to buck your hips and make the connection; Simon digs his nails into the sensitive skin of your thighs and the feeling makes you gasp - more electric than anything you've experienced before.

"I," you swallow hard, Simon's nails scratching down you lightly pulling all the air from your chest, "I promise."

You're ashamed of the moan that you let out when his mouth finds your core, your back arching off of the bed. Simon's tongue is velvet on you, lapping at your wetness with a gentleness you wouldn't have expected from his size.

You'd listened to other girls in the village talk about this - about their quick trysts with the boys in the village and how it felt to be pawed at. But this - this was like nothing you'd ever imagined it could be, and nothing like the girls described it as.

Simon's hands keep your knees apart as his tongue swirls your sensitive spot; your back arching off of the bed as you grind down onto him. His fingers trace patterns in the sensitive skin of your inner thighs. When his fingers reach your wetness, you can't help but clench your knees around him, nervousness and embarrassment filling you. You had never let any of the boys you'd kissed touch you - the thought of their fingers inside of you disgusting, but the want for Simon to stretch you out is enough to make you pull away - not sure how to react.

Simon's tongue slows as he pushes your knees back down with one arm, his mouth pulling off of you with a pop. In the absence of him you buck your hips, but he doesn't move. He presses a kiss to the inside of your knee, and when he speaks, the brush of his lips on your skin makes you shiver.

"We don't-," he swallows, heavy in the darkness, "we can stop if you want."

"No." It's a pathetic whine. You can feel his smile against your thigh, teeth nipping at your skin.

"You're going to want me to stretch you out a little."

His words pull a gasp out of you; you clench around nothing at the thought of him filling you up. Simon's hand traces your wetness gently, before he pushes in one thick finger. It burns as he pumps in and out of you; you're so tight he can barely move in and out of you. You can't tell how long it takes before the burn starts to dissipate; like he can read your body, Simon slips another finger in.

Simon works you until you're comfortable; the sounds you make are filthy. You're so wet you feel yourself dripping onto Simon's wrist. He latches onto your apex, and the feeling sends you over the edge. You come with a choked sob; you try to reach down and stop his hand, but he pushes you away and continues until you can't take it anymore.

He pulls his fingers out of you, as you beg incoherently - but you're not sure what you're begging for.

Even in the darkness, Simon's a shadow when he crawls up your body, lips skimming your hip bone, your stomach, your collarbone. A muscle twitches in your thigh; you can't catch your breath in the heat that radiates off of Simon as he dips his head down to kiss you. You dig your nails into his side, and buck your hips up, but he pushes them back down gently with one hand.

Simon pulls away just enough to speak, lips brushing against your as he does.

"If you want me to stop-"

You feel crazed - the way you claw into him, trying to pull him into yourself, the way your lips crash against his, teeth clicking together in a way that would be painful any other time. Simon snakes his hand between the two of you; you jump when it brushes past your clit. You can feel yourself dripping already - wetter than you'd thought you could get.

Simon lines himself up with your entrance, and pauses, resting his hand on your chest. His fingers stretch across the expanse of skin, calluses raising gooseflesh.

"You're shaking."

And you are; it's overwhelming - the smell of him enveloping you, the expanse of his body, hard muscle under a layer of soft downy, and being broken down by him. The thick feeling of being stretched out.

"I'm alright."

It comes out whispered and broken, but you are. You've never felt like this; never thought that you would. You wrap one hand around this wrist at your chest and beg.

"Simon please. I can't - I," you can't get the words out, can't explain that you can't take the feeling of being empty; of being without him.

Simon presses into you, just barely, but it's enough to make your back arch and your nails to scratch down his arm. He hisses at the feeling, teeth nipping at your earlobe. He moves slowly; the sharp feeling of him is enough to cause you to hyperventilate. On instinct, you press your hands to his chest; you can feel his desire to move faster in the way his muscles bunches beneath your touch.

"Do I need to stop?"

"No - it's just - you're too much."

You can feel his smile, brief and small, as he presses his face into your shoulder before he bites down. Hands finding his hair, you grip tight enough that you're sure it must hurt him, but he doesn't say anything.

You can feel every inch of him stretching you out; Simon's voice is soft in your ear as he whispers to you to relax - that you're doing so well. One of his hands trace down your side, trying to soften the gooseflesh. The other pushes your hair away from your forehead, fingers pausing at your temple.

The world pauses when he bottoms out; you can feel him in your throat - he's burning you up from the inside, his skin fire against your own. Simon's mouth his hot against your skin as he trails kissed across your neck. You know there will be marks there tomorrow - something you'll have to hide - but you don't ask him to stop; you beg him to keep going.

"I need you to relax, my love." His soft voice in your ear makes your fingers curl against the blanket bunched beneath you. "You're too tight."

You try to relax beneath him, but you can't - you can't.

"I can't."

"Just breathe love."

You focus on the movement of his chest against yours, and try to synch your breathing with his. Simon lays his hand against your throat, your pulse slowing beneath the pads of his fingers. His tongue snakes out to trace the shell of your ear, and he rocks himself against you.

You're ashamed of the sounds that escape you, you press your hand to your mouth to try to muffle yourself, but Simon pries your hand away and places it on his shoulder.

"Don't try to be quiet."

His words cut into you, and you grind yourself against him trying to match the rhythm he's setting.

Sweat and slick mix between your thighs; Simon pushes your knees towards your chest and the shift in angle tugs at something inside of you; you can feel yourself unraveling faster than you did earlier. Simon's nails dig into your skin as he moves faster. Your hands press on his chest, his stomach, trying to find some space to breathe, but his grip on your waist doesn't let you move.

Simon finds a brutal pace. You dip your fingers between the two of you until you can feel him pumping in and out of you; Simon moans at the feeling, nails piercing your skin hard enough to make you gasp.

He grabs the hand you have between the two of you and guides your fingers to your apex, forcing you to swirl your fingers around yourself.

You try to commit the feeling of him to memory: the texture of his skin, the sound of him panting in your ear, the feeling of his thumb tracing the contours of your nipple. Your second orgasm starts to break around you, and in the haze, you realize that you will never have this kind of moment with someone else.

The thought puts a knot in your throat; you pull Simon down to kiss him; he must sense your desperation as he slows down, hand wrapping around the back of your neck to pull you closer.

His body shudders once and he pulls out; you feel the heat of him spill out across your stomach. The wild thought of reaching down, and taking some onto your finger to taste possesses you, but your fingers are still clutching at Simon. You can't figure out how to loosen your grip.

Simon pants between your thighs, one hand still wrapped around your neck as he shifts so that he's laying down beside you. You shuffle, kicking the blanket down beneath you until you're able to pull it up around you.

You want to say something, anything to dissipate the air that stills around the two of you. But as Simon pulls you into his chest, anything you could think of is washed away.

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#simon riley #simon ghost riley #simon riley x reader #my fics #ghost cod #simon riley smut #simon riley x you #simon ghost riley x reader #simon ghost x you #simon ghost x reader #ghost cod x reader #cod fanfic #cod x reader #ghost call of duty #call of duty fanfic #call of duty mwii

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