#this is so fucking filthy for no reason im sorry

[007reid]

request for reader having dated spencer (early seasons) and then she finds out what happened w lila </3

hi hi hi!! sorry this took a while hun :( you were vague with your req so i just wrote whatever i wanted to write and because of that i meant for this to be a drabble but it didn't work out that way... enjoy!

secrets. spencer reid

part 1 | part 2

pairing: spencer reid x jealous fem!reader, 1.8k

summary: spencer will never be able to escape the effortless wrath of derek morgan, not even when it's the weekends and breaking bad is playing and you're pulling on his hair.

warnings: no smut you filthy animals, though i did intend there to be smut im just in a fluffy mood rn :// tiny angst if you squint, spencer's blushin a LOT, morgan's evil, bickering and just cutesy couple stuff. me when.

spencer’s secret was the last thing that you were, and you know this.

you and spencer have been dating for three months now, not including the two months talking stage because spencer is deadly afraid of commitment, and between all that time, you’d say you’ve gotten to know spencer pretty well. you know him well enough to trust that he knows what’s best, anyway. it’s been three months, and spencer hasn’t uttered a word about you to his team, his family, and you understand why.

really. you do.

“they’ll never let me live in down,” spencer had whined, one person imminent on his mind. derek fucking morgan. spencer dreads just thinking about it, the teasing, the inappropriate jokes, the winks and the whistles. it’s dehumanizing. “when someone ask me or mention something about it, i will tell them. until then…”

the unspoken reason was there. spencer’s a talker, definitely a talker, but he doesn’t spend much time talking about himself. he never reveals a bit of himself unless he’s directly asked it, and he feels uncomfortable sharing otherwise. the team’s too used to spencer being physically and emotionally repellent to the female race to really ask about stuff like you anymore, and spender’s not too eager to share neither. not out of the blue. it’s unlike him. this you understand. 100%. locked safely in the noggin.

you never think much about it anyway. it doesn’t bother you. what bothers you, though, is secrets.

you know spencer has loads of those, tucked behind that carefree and open-hearted smile and attitude of his. you examine him carefully, searching his face for ticks—okay, maybe you were just looking really creepily because he’s pretty and you try to commit every feature into memory but you are, searching for ticks that is.

you know he hides things. somethings not worth bringing up again because it’ll only bring up bad memories. some other things, however, definitely worth mentioning again. you just have to find the right target questions. sometimes it feels like you’re dating a stranger, with how little you know about spencer’s life. sometimes it feels like you’re dating the love of your life. it’s all very relative.

you and spencer are cuddled up on the couch, breaking bad playing on the tv. it’s one of the shows spencer doesn’t like pointing out the scientific inaccuracies of because he’s too fond of the main character to really say that he’s wrong, and sometimes you miss his voice chiming in between all the movie’s dialogues, but you think the reason why he’s quiet today is because he’s not in the mood to talk. the last case’s gotten him pretty shaken up, and he’s still healing, head in your neck every night and when he pulls away your skin is damp with tears.

“you okay spence?” you say, moving your hand to tangle your fingers in his hair. he hums softly, and then you both suddenly hear the vibration from under your asses. spencer shifts around, digging his phone out from where it’s lodged in a random cushion of the sofa.

he groans inwardly, showing you the screen, not having to explain. in big letters, the caller says: bau--derek morgan.

“he usually never calls me on weekends,” spencer frowns, watching the phone vibrate. “you think i should answer?”

“he’s a friend,” you say, tucking a stray strand of hair under his ear. “answer him.”

“okay,” spencer says hesitantly, then swipes the green button on his screen. he clears his throat as the call connects. “you’re on speaker,” he warns, looking at you anxiously and then back to his phone again. morgan’s a wildcard, and spencer would have to hide his face everyday for the next three weeks in front of you if morgan happens to drop something embarrassing about him just out of pocket. spencer isn’t ready.

“not like there’s anyone with you to hear,” morgan scoffs, and didn’t let spencer answer before continuing. “the team’s planning on a bar night tomorrow—“

“the team?” spencer questions, suspicious. morgan sighs loudly.

“garcia and i,” he corrects reluctantly, “are planning for a team bonding night tomorrow. what do you say?”

“no.” spencer says immediately, looking at you and hope you get his unspoken answer. spencer never goes out on weekends, not unless it’s with you. with his highly demanding schedule at the bau, it’s rare that he has any time off at all, and it’s hard to maintain a healthy relationship that way. any time he gets to spend time with you he’d take.

“come on,” morgan says, enthusiastically. “when was the last time you properly went out, huh?”

“last month, when you and garcia planned another of these team bonding bar nights,” spencer says monotonously. he rolls his eyes. “morgan—“

“don’t be rolling your eyes at me now, genius,” morgan warns. you stifle a laugh, and spencer sends you a wounded look. you forget that they’re basically family, like siblings to knows each other to a tee. “listen, have some fun in your life. who knows, maybe we can find you another lila at the bar.” morgan’s tone is suggestive. and now, that got your full, undivided attention.

and spencer, predictably, looks like a deer caught in the headlights, looking at you in horror was you narrow your eyes at his screen. you prod at his leg, prompting him to answer so morgan can elaborate.

lila?

“i don’t think—“ spencer starts, but got immediately cut off.

“don’t lie and say you didn’t like it, lover boy,” morgan whistles and spencer cringes. “now that we’re talking about lila, actually—“ spencer’s mind is screaming, shut up shut up shut up! as morgan proceeds to feed you more information, completely oblivious to his sins. “do you guys still keep in touch? she looked pretty into you. never knew you had it in you til then, man--”

by now spencer’s beet red head to ears to toe and you can feel the heat radiating off of him, but also off of yourself. you’d say you’re a jealous woman. not too jealous but definitely not not jealous.

“morgan,” spencer starts again, voice a little wobbly and embarrassed and morgan laughs.

“seriously though, do you guys still talk? them eyes never lie,” and morgan sounds so casual, so nonchalant while destroying spencer’s life.

it’s not that spencer doesn’t want you to know about lila. he couldn’t careless if lila waltz into his life right now because he knows they would be nothing more than friends—you’re all he’s ever wanted and he would trade you for nothing. it’s just embarrassing, is all, him being exposed like this, and he feels smaller, feels like he’s actually 5’3 with the glare you’re sending him.

“anyway, that don’t matter,” morgan remains completely ignorant and in his own world and still on speaker. oh morgan. “i want to see you at our bar tomorrow. it’s a yes, right? good. i’ll tell garcia you said yes.”

“morgan!” spencer says quickly. “i have a gir—“

morgan hangs up.

spencer dreads looking at you, so he takes his time getting out the app and then clears all of the background apps on his phone. he doesn’t like seeing you mad and he can basically sense it, the fumes blowing out your ears.

“who’s lila?” you say casually and he looks up. he doesn’t mistake your tone for friendliness, your eyes are narrow and suspicious.

“someone on a case a while ago,” spencer responds honestly. because that’s all there was to lila. it’s not like he’s never had his first kiss before her, so she doesn’t even count as his first kiss (she’s his second) and other than that minute-long moment they shared there was nothing else remarkable. she just happens to the only girl the team knows about who’s spencer been involved with and they are encouraging to help him find another ‘lila.’

it’s all very complicated. and humiliating. he should’ve definitely told you the entire backstory beforehand, because it’s not scandalous or weird or anything. it’s innocent and harmless. but now the problem seems to be blown out of proportion.

“just someone?” you press. spencer hesitates. he hates lying, especially when he’s lying to you. his hesitation gives you all the answer you needed.

“we kissed once,” he says, and gawks at you for approval, for forgiveness. “but that was it. i swear.”

something awful bubbles in your stomach. you know spencer’s not lying, and it’s not worth getting upset with him about because it’s all in the past—it’s not like you go talking about your precious conquests to spencer anyway. but you can’t help the envy and jealousy boiling so hotly it makes you dizzy.

spencer feels obliged to fill you in, to patch up the little bump and to get back the sweet atmosphere that was before morgan called. he knew morgan would somehow manage to ruin his life in some kind of way. he knew it before he even accepted his call.

“she was an actress in this case we were working on and she just, i think, really liked me or something and she was in a pool when i came to see her just to ask some questions and she just pulled me—“

his rant got interrupted by you seizing him to a rough kiss, hands coming up to rest behind the nape of his neck and nails unconsciously digging into his skin. spencer remains mostly unresponsive and soft, surprised and don't know how to respond. you keep prying, teeth digging into the soft of his bottom lip and spencer starts nipping at you back, gentle like he always is.

it frustrates you, how hard it is to be frustrated at spencer. you pull away from him and spencer tilts his head curiously, lip shiny and eyes looking at you like he's never seen you before and he just looks so sweet, so innocent and eager, like a precious pup. you roll your eyes, swatting at his chest, annoyance and jealousy and anger evaporating from you like a cloud.

spencer licks his lips and you collapse back into him again, returning to the position you were before morgan so unmindfully interrupted your weekend. breaking bad continues to play on the tv. long limbs wraps around you and spencer presses a kiss in your hair.

"i'm not going tomorrow," he declares.

"you should," you say nonchalantly. you cuddle up closer to him, turning around until the both of your are facing each other, wiggling your way on top. you begin to trace stars on the exposed skin of his shoulder. "and maybe you should bring someone with you. just to act as a guard for future lila's. maybe you can introduce that person too," you flick your hair behind your back and shrugs at spencer's amused smile. "it's just a thought."

"okay," he says quietly, eyes so soft. "okay. who do you suggest i bring?"

"that's for you to figure out, doctor reid," you say flippantly, turning back to the tv. "now shush."

#yeah you could really tell that the smut was bubbling to happen in this one #oh well #spencer reid #spencer reid drabble #spencer reid oneshot #spencer reid x fem!reader #spencer reid x y/n #criminal minds #spencer reid fluff #dr spencer reid #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid angst #spencer reid smut #criminal minds fanfiction #criminal minds fanfic #criminal minds fandom #spencer reid x reader #matthew gray gubler #mgg #spencer reid x you #reid x reader #my works

[lovelettersfromluna]

Supercut

Summary: ��In my head, I play a supercut of us.”

an: halfway through writing this I decided that this isn't technically the finale hehe, more of cam girl!Ellie come, this is just the end of them being stupid. mwah mwah love you all more than you know.

Warnings: SMUT!! 18+, MDNI, angst, cam girl!ellie, Ellie is a real idiot in this one tbh, arguing, hurt/eventual comfort, toxic!Ellie, tribbing, making out, pet names, this one is a little short im sorry, lmk if I missed anything!!!

Read part 1 here, and part 2 here!

You know that gross feeling you get whenever you look back at old pictures or videos? You know, the one that you feel at the pit of your stomach, and it makes you really happy but also really sad? What's that called again?

Oh, right. Its melancholy

It's that feeling where you have a specific memory, and you know that no matter what, that time is gone. You can't replicate it, and the only place that it will live is in the confides of your own mind

And it sucks, because you don't even know when those moments are going to be made. There's no warning in your brain that the day you have planned is going to be so impactful to your life, that you will constantly chase that feeling, trying to replicate what it was that made that time so blissful so that you can feel that same warmth again.

You don't even get the chance to savor it while it lasts.

It almost makes you feel like you never wanted those times to happen to begin with, because you would have been fine without them. Sacrifice one of the times of your life so that you wouldn't have to spend countless nights laying in bed, only hoping that you will experience something that can even come close to how it all felt in the past.

Most of the time, it's easy to simply look back at those memories, feel that disgusting mixture of happiness and sadness, and then move on.

But for some god awful reason, you can't seem to do that this time.

This time, it lingers. It sits there, knocking at your chest, demanding to be acknowledged, to have all of your undivided attention, giving you no choice but to think about how fucked up this all is, how all of this was a complete and utter mistake, and how you have no way in taking it back.

It makes you wish time travel was real, yearning for some mad scientist to come out and say 'look everyone! you can reverse the mistakes you've made in the past!'.

But that doesn't happen, and you have no choice but to live with the icky feeling that settles at the pit of your stomach, and refuses to go away.

You weren't entirely sure what would happen after that night with Ellie, the night that she laid her weight on top of you, fucking you into her mattress over and over again, whispering the sweetest words into the nape of your neck, holding you the entire night through once you were finished, silence overcoming the space as you both fell into a blissful sleep.

It was hard to really tell where you both stood, but you weren't an idiot.

You knew, that you and Ellie had made love that night.

It was truly like nothing you had ever experienced. It was like you were constantly in that delicious state before sleep, where the world is soft, and everything is so comfortable right before you reach the point of unconsciousness, and everything feels so utterly perfect.

That's what it felt like, and you knew that from the moment Ellie had pulled you against her chest, and pressed a soft kiss to your head before you both fell asleep.

It happened, but God....you really wished it hadn't.

Because now? Things were so much fucking worse.

The feeling Ellie gave you scared you, and it made the ugliest thoughts fill your head when you woke up. You felt wrong, the skin on your body feeling filthy for doing something so intimate with her, with your roommate. You felt like you were taking something that wasn't yours, something that was never meant for you in that way.

So you ran.

Not far, of course. You were lucky enough to wake up before Ellie, gently peeling yourself from her body, your stomach sinking whenever she mumbled something gently in her sleep, her hands mindlessly reaching for your body before she fell back into her deep slumber.

You stood over her for a moment, watching as her eyes flickered in her sleep, lips parted as she snored gently. The feeling you had when you watched her sleep scared you, because you felt...like you wanted to stay with her, protect her, hold her in your arms and ignore the reality of how much this was fucking with your head, ignore the fact that she had simply wanted help with her work.

It wasn't supposed to be like this.

You inhaled deeply before you left her room, closing her door gently before you quickly went to your bedroom, tugged on a t shirt and jeans before you grabbed your jacket and left the apartment.

You stayed out in the city all day, that day. You were like a ghost, trying to sort out the feelings that were settling in your chest, opting to simply ignore them instead. You made sure to leave your phone at home, knowing any texts from Ellie wouldn't do you any good with how you were feeling.

You didn't return home until later that afternoon, the sun setting, slowly casting the familiar darkness of night onto the city that you had come to know. You wished you could stay out longer, avoid the situation more, but it was only gettin colder, and you knew you had to go back to your apartment sooner or later.

When you got there, you were greeted by silence. You don't even hear Ellie's usual music playing from inside her room. You frowned softly, looking around a bit for any signs of the girl there. You looked down, finding that her leather jacket and helmet weren't where they usually were.

Ellie had left too.

You should've been happy at that, giving you even more time away from the girl than planned, yet you can't ignore the ugly tinge of sadness and annoyance that lingers at the back of your throat at the thought of here simply...leaving.

When you got to your room, you quickly grabbed your phone, wishfully thinking that there would be a string of messages from your roommate, asking you where you've gone, and if everything is okay between you both.

But when you unlock your phone, there's nothing there.

Not a single call, or a single text.

And you suddenly realized, that great minds think alike.

So, that's how things go with you and Ellie after that. There isn't a grand scene of love, where you both confess that you had both felt that way from the moment you set eyes on each other, there isn't a happily ever after where you become her girl, and she becomes yours. There isn't any of that, you two simply go from being friends, to barely being roommates.

You guys never speak about it. There's never a conversation that happens to even clear the air, pretending as though that night in her bedroom never happened.

There's a sense of hostility that follows after all of it happens, because Ellie won't even fucking look at you now, let alone stand in the same room as you. If you're in the living room, she's in her bedroom, and if you're in the kitchen, she leaves the apartment to go eat somewhere else.

It leaves a bitter taste in your mouth, because you can practically feel the hatred she has for you radiating off of her body whenever she's around, and it's a shock to you that you two are still even living together. The Ellie that would once sit in the living room with you, practically tugging your body to sit on her lap, has succumb to someone who barely even exists to you anymore.

And it doesn't even end there.

Ellie never really had girls in and out of the apartment before, even before you and her started filming and having sex. She was pretty strict about letting others into her space, only ever bringing around girls she was dating long term, or her designated filming partner. You never had a problem with it, letting Ellie know time and time again that the place was half hers, and she could bring whoever she wanted.

But that seemingly changed after you and her happened.

Because suddenly, there's a different girl at your apartment every night, and Ellie is fucking them ten different ways into the next month.

And it always happens to be on the nights before you have to wake up early to go in and open the record store.

She becomes relentless.

You first noticed it happening when she breezed past you on a Friday night, clearly dressed up for a night out. You couldn't really ignore the way your core tightened at how fucking good she looked, the feeling quickly overshadowed by the way she yet again left the house as if you weren't sitting right there.

After getting yourself to bed for some much needed shut eye, you were rudely awakened by the sound of your front door slamming open, followed by the sound of tumbling and soft giggles..

Which then slowly turned into the sounds of Ellie fucking a girl in her bedroom that was directly across from yours.

And it kept going, night after night, the sound of Ellie pleasuring another woman was all that you were left with. Not even your headphones on full volume could drown out the banging of Ellies headboard against the wall.

You have never been a jealous person, especially when it came to Ellie and her sex life. However, after what happened between the both of you, and the very clear fact that Ellie was indeed doing it out of spite..

You really couldn't ignore the fire you felt at the pit of your stomach whenever you heard some random girl moaning out Ellie's name to the top of her fucking lungs.

It was then that you came to terms with the fact that enough was enough.

And you had to move out.

It wasn't long until you wouldn't leave your room.

You seriously couldn't stomach the way it felt, being ignored by Ellie, her constant avoidance a reminder of how much of a bad idea it was to agree to filming with her in the first place. If that wasn't enough, constantly seeing her leave the apartment to go meet up with another girl started to hurt even more.

And you really didn't want to face the truth behind that.

There was something unsettling that came with the feeling it gave you, because how could you go from not even batting an eyelash at Ellie walking out of her bedroom with Julia, to feeling tears prickle at the edge of your eyes every time you heard her fucking someone else across from your room.

Because it's cruel, and you know you were wrong to leave her the way you did, but she left too. You knew that what you did was wrong, but surely you didn't deserve all of this? And why would she even want to hurt you like this in the first place? Surely you were the only one that felt this ridiculous conflicting feeling that only brought you stress.

And yet, you only found new ways to torture yourself.

It happens one night after work, you're tired and all you want to do is peel off your clothes and hop into bed.

Opting to grab your laptop, wanting to watch some mindless video on the internet to lull you to sleep, you are suddenly faced with something that had been waiting to haunt you.

A link to one of your videos with Ellie was still on your browser.

She had sent it to you a while ago, wanting to show you how well it was doing, and all the positive feedback that it was receiving, you meant to watch it at the time, but never got around to it. Now, it was sitting there, collecting dust until you decided to open it.

And you knew you shouldn't have, because that chapter of your life has closed, and you intended to keep it fully closed.

But curiosity did kill the cat, didn't it?

You didn't think twice before opening it, the link quickly flashing across your screen and taking you to Ellie's page. The thumbnail is of the two of you, the last video you guys had filmed. Its you, straddling Ellie on her bed, her strong hands gripping your hips, probably forcing you to grind down on her lap.

You feel your core tighten at the sight of it.

You don't look at it much longer, or read the comments either, because you know they will all be asking where you've gone, and whether or not you were coming back.

Instead of closing your laptop and going to sleep like you should have, you kept scrolling through Ellies page. You come to find the usual, seeing that she had been live the past few nights, as well as posted a few videos for her viewers to catch up on, none of it out of the ordinary.

Something does catch your eye however.

Its a video that was posted a few nights ago, and you can barely make it out, but you can see a thumbnail of Ellies tattooed hand pushed between a girls thighs, doing what you can only assume to be fingering her.

And that girl is definitely not you.

She had found herself a new partner.

It’s no shock that she did. She’d been actively fucking other girls, someone in and out of your apartment almost every night, something that she had made sure to make very clear to you…

But there was just something about actually seeing it that hurt like hell

You slammed your laptop shut, a bit too hard, but you were suddenly filled with something foreign to you, something that you hardly felt for anyone.

Quickly grabbing you blankets and tugging them over your body, you squeezed your eyes shut to try and erase the image of Ellie with another girl from your brain, the image slowly tainting the deepest corners of your mind so that you won't ever be able to do just that.

You couldn't do this anymore.

Ellie was just as bad at talking about her feelings as you were.

Because the morning after you and her had sex, she wanted nothing more than to wake up with you, kiss you, hold you, move on from this agonizingly slow phase that you two were in, where she was allowed to do the things that she always wanted to do, just conditionally.

She wanted to wake up, and move forward whatever the fuck you and her were stuck in.

But you didn’t. You simply woke up before her, and left, leaving Ellie to feel like a fucking idiot.

Because maybe she read into the entire thing wrong, maybe you didn’t feel anything for her, maybe you really did only see her as your roommate and nothing more than that….

Maybe that look in your eye that she was sure she saw when she was fucking you, was all in her head.

So when you ran, she did too.

And soon, Ellie’s sadness turned into anger, and all she wanted to do, was hurt you the same way that you hurt her.

She wanted you to hear her with other girls, she wanted you to see her with other women on her streams, she wanted you to see what it was that you’d lost, what you’d stupidly lost when you decided to run away from her the morning after it all.

But maybe she’d taken it too far.

Because Ellie’s anger turned into something that she didn’t want, because no matter how much noise she made, how good she tried to look whenever she was getting ready to go out with some random girl, no matter what she did to make you jealous, you never batted an eyelash her way, you never once reacted to anything that she did that was directed at you for the sole purpose of getting your attention.

And not only did it further prove to Ellie that you didn’t give a fuck about her, but it also made her so much more frustrated with you.

Did you seriously not have a fucking soul? Could you not even acknowledge her? Hurt for her? Feel hurt by her? Why wasn’t it working? Why weren’t you…..why couldn’t you just…..

Why couldn’t you just fucking want her.

Ellie was truly at her last straw, because being with other women was something she already didn’t like doing, but it was slowly eating away at her, picking away at her insides and making her feel hollow inside, a shell of who she used to be when she was with you.

And when she didn’t think things could get any worse, she found you doing something she only saw in her nightmares.

She hadn’t really noticed it at first, but slowly, your belongings began to disappear from the apartment. Particularly in the living room.

Your stack of blankets would get smaller and smaller as the week went by, the dorky little figures you had littered around different shelves and the tv stand started to disappear too, little parts of you started leaving, one by one, and Ellie was too far up her own ass to even notice.

Maybe if she had, she could’ve convinced you to stay.

In all honesty? Ellie probably wouldn’t even have realized you were leaving until it was too late, the girl far too consumed in her little revenge streak to notice the slow but sure disappearance of you, the way the remnants of you slowly began to leave one by one.

It just so happened that on a day that you were packing up some of your boxes, you had left your door cracked open, thinking that Ellie wasn’t home.

She was passing by your room when she heard a soft huff, the sound quickly catching her attention as she slowly walked towards your door, catching sight of the various opened boxes scattered around your room that was already looking sparse due to packing it all the way.

That. That was the straw the broke the camels fucking back.

Because suddenly, Ellie is pushing your door open, the force from her hand making it slam against your wall, the loud sound making you flinch to look over in her direction with wide eyes.

“Ellie?” You question softly.

The sound of her name rolling off your tongue makes a shiver run down her spine, because god….had she missed the way you said it.

Her eyes are angry, eyebrows furrows together as her eyes scan your room, looking at the boxes, your half empty closet, your empty book shelf.

“What the fuck is going on here?” She spits out, her tone making you wince slightly. It’s the first time you’ve heard her speak to you in almost an entire month and it’s so fucking hostile, so pointed.

This really wasn’t how you wanted this to go.

You let out a soft sigh, bringing your palm up to ran along your face as you look down at the boxes as well, heart sinking at the thought of going.

“Look…Ellie…I was planning on telling you…I just-“ she’s quick to cut you off, walking further into your bedroom as her eyes scan the walls, watching as they began to grow emptier and emptier the further in she looked. She scoffs, her green eyes finally landing on yours, her smoldering grip enough to take your breath away.

“Bull-fucking-shit. You weren’t going to tell me anything, and you know that” she argues, nostrils flared as she stares at you with eyes filled with that same glare of hate that you saw every time she’d glaze over you within recent weeks.

And she was right. You had no intention of telling her anything. She would learn that you were gone once you were gone, because that’s what you did.

You always ran.

You let out a sigh of defeat before you step away from her, fully intending on continuing packing. You didn’t want this to stop you, or put anymore obstacles in your way of leaving. This was what you had to do, and you knew that.

“I can’t stay here anymore, Ellie…things are fucked up between us and I just…I won’t deal with it anymore” you mumble out, your voice tired, weak. A clear indication of how you felt towards the entire situation. It was draining you, and you knew that for your own well being, you had to get out.

The sight of you packing as if she wasn’t in your room, trying to figure out why you were leaving, makes her even more upset. It blinds her from your words, from the weakness in your voice, in your appearance. She ignores it because the anger she feels is much easier to indulge in.

"So that's it? You're just gonna leave? Without saying anything to me?" she barks out, her tone making you feel worse than you already do.

And then it all stops, because why the hell are you feeling bad when this isn't even your fault.

You slowly turn to Ellie, your eyebrows furrowed as you stare at her in disbelief, cocking your head to the side slowly before you start to speak.

"Are you listening to yourself right now, Ellie? Do you ever stop to think for one second that not everything is about you?" The tone of your voice is so calm, words so slow and articulated, it barely even sounds like you're mad.

And it scares you, and it scares her.

You don't stop there, you couldn't even if you wanted to.

"This wasn't my idea, none of it was. I agreed to help you because you asked it of me, and I clearly have no fucking sense of boundaries. I get that what I did was wrong, and I shouldn't have left you that morning, but no one is fucking perfect" You defend, your own breath become more shallow the more you speak, your anger and frustration finally rising to the surface.

"This isn't good for me. You aren't good for me, you've been fucking different girls every goddamn night just to hurt me, and you're a fucking liar if you deny it." you spit out, making Ellie wince slightly, yet her eyebrows never unravel from how furrowed they are, and the frown on her lips is still there.

When you said it out loud though, she realized just how bad it was.

"I did it to get your fucking attention...not to hurt you" She barely whispers, staring down at you. You can't help but laugh softly, scoffing at her words before you give her a gentle sigh.

"Oh it got my attention, Ellie. It got it so much, that I can't bare for you to have it anymore..." you mumble out softly before you turn away from her, unable to stare into her eyes for any longer.

"I don't know what happened between us that morning...but I want nothing more than to just..forget about it all" You let out meekly, feeling yourself reduce to that small ball of insecurities once again.

And Ellie finally softens when she sees it, because you never let your guard down this much.

She inhales deeply, taking a step towards you, trying to get closer to you. You don't step back, or flinch, you simply ignore her, carrying on to pack your things as if she wasn't there, standing above you.

"You hurt me too...you know" she mumbled out, her voice finally dropping that hostile tone that she had when she first walked in. You're quick to turn towards her, spinning around to set your eyes that were quickly growing redder by the second.

"And Im sorry!" you shout, your voice going the loudest it had yet, it makes Ellie flinch.

You sigh out tiredly before you bring your hand up to tuck a strand of hair behind your ear. "If I could go back and do it differently..I would..but too much has happened, Ellie...I don't..." you trail off, struggling to find the proper words before you sigh softly, finally speaking again.

"I don't see you the same way, anymore" you mumble out.

This makes Ellies heart seize up, because what do you mean by that? What are you trying to tell her?

You move to sit on your knees, you bare legs coming in contact with the cold, wooden floor as you begin packing more things in a different box. There's no more fighting, there isn't anymore arguing, or anger, it's just silent, the occasional sound of your clothes hitting each other when they hit you settle them in the box. You don't even bother to turn around and yell at Ellie, or even tell her to get out.

And maybe thats what's hurting her the most. You never yelled, you didn't cry or beg, you didn't do anything when she knew you heard her, saw her with those other girls. All of them were nothing to her, sorry attempts at trying to grab hold of your attention again, get you to show just a little bit of fucking anger, so that she knew you still felt something for her, so that she knew she still had you.

But it was clear to her with the way that you disregarded her after it all, as if she didn't even matter, that she didn't have you anymore.

Did she ever? Did she ever have a chance with you? Was she all in her head? Were you simply just a good friend? A decent roommate who promised to help her out when she needed help? Was all of it just....

Pretend?

She feels like she's running out of options, because she assumed that if anything, you two would fight and end up in a heated, passionate love making session where you two would admit what you had felt all along.

But Ellie was slowly coming to the conclusion that she was being fucking delusional.

Her decisions didn't let up thought, because soon, she's on her knees next to you, grabbing your wrists gently in her hands and pulling you to face her. She feels her heart break when you refuse, trying to pull away from her grasp, mumbling soft complaints of how you needed to finish packing.

When she finally tugs you a bit harder, forcing you to look at her, she feels the weight of her mistakes finally settle on her chest, because you're crying. Your eyes are puffy and your cheeks are stained, and it's all her fucking fault.

She bites back a whimper, tugging her bottom lip into her mouth as she feel her own throat burn with tears.

"Hey...look at me...come on...where's my pretty girl...come on.." She tries over and over again, voice breaking, making you whimper as you try tugging your arms from her grasp.

"Don't you see how fucked up this is, Ellie? We were just screaming at each other and now...now you're calling me your girl" you plead with her, the words bubbling past your lips as the mere sight of here forces more tears from your eyes, making it harder and harder to talk.

Ellie can't talk her way out of this one, not with you. She knows there isn't much she can do, or say, and she feels like she's all out of options, because you're right. All of this is so fucked up, and it makes her insides burn because she's hurt, and you're hurt, and it feels like there's nothing she can do to fix it.

She does the only thing she feels will work. She kisses you.

It's filled with everything. Passion, longing, happiness, sadness, anger, everything that had been pent up between the both of you is poured into the kiss, and it's enough to make you feel dizzy.

But you don't pull away, you melt into her, just like you always do. She feels it too, feels the way you let you defenses down, taking it as a chance to tug your wrists up and around her neck, her own arms resting on your hips as she pulls you closer, her lips working against yours.

"Im....fuck...im so sorry, baby....never meant to hurt you" She mumbles against you, her words coming out as a breathy sigh against your lips, making you moan softly against her. She pushes her tongue into your mouth, giving your waist a soft squeeze.

"M'sorry too..Ellie....shouldn't have left..." You whine against her, and she's quickly shaking her head, gently tugging you up to stand with her before she's pulling you too your bed.

"Just...lemme take care of you..alright" She hums against your lips before she gently pushes you back to lay on your bed, her own body crawling over yours, resting her weight on your body as she goes back to kissing you.

It's so slow, and sensual, and it feels like the entire world is quiet, like you're fading into her, and she's fading into you, and you both are becoming one. It feels so fucking right, and the hole that had been growing in your chest is finally filling up, the essence that is Ellie slowly acting as the medicine that you needed all along.

Ellie rolls over, gripping your hips and tugging you to straddle her waist as she lays back against your bed. Her green eyes eat you up, strong hands already running along your hips and thighs, giving you a squeeze before her hand creeps up your t shirt, pushing it up a bit before it slips under, grasping your boob and massaging it in her hands.

"Fuck...look at you...missed you so much, pretty girl....you can't even imagine.." She sighs softly under her breath, eager hands roaming your body hungrily, as if they've deprived of you for so long, missing the way your skin spilled out from under her hands, always so responsive for her.

You tug your bottom lip between your teeth as you watch her practically worshiping your body with her hands, a soft whine leaving your lips as you rest your hands on her hips, pushing up her t shirt a bit as your thumbs rub small circle into her pale hips.

Her hands rest on your hips, forcing you to grind down onto her lap, making you whine softly, the feeling her her sweats bunching up right at your core, your cotton pajama shorts leaving much too room to be exposed by her touch.

She sits up, grabbing the hem of your shirt before she tugs it off your body, groaning softly as her lips immediately latch onto your nipple, biting and sucking. You moan softly, arching your back a bit and forcing more of you to her mouth, hands wrapped around her neck, toying with the hair at the nape of her neck.

Ellie pushes you back, resting you to lay down before she tugs your pajama shorts and panties off in one go. You promptly spread your legs for her, letting her settle between them, the small gesture making her groan, her strong hands gripping your thighs, grinding against your bare pussy.

"Fuck...such a good girl for me..." she sighs softly against your lips.

You whine, reaching down and tugging at her own pants, fumbling with the waistband of her shorts that hung oh so fucking low.

"Off..wanna feel you.." You moan softly against her, resulting in a soft chuckle from her. She presses one last kiss to your lips before she nods.

"Whatever you want baby...fuck" she mumbles softly under her breath when she pulls back to start tugging her own clothes off, catching a glimpse of your soaking wet pussy and naked body in the dim light of your room.

She looks so fucking desperate, nearly tripping over her sweats as she tugs them off, tossing them somewhere else in your room. It's like she can't get the clothes off quick enough, immediately settling between your legs again once she's naked, groaning softly a the feeling of your pussy against her body.

Her eagerness makes you giggle, and Ellie feels like she's on cloud fucking nine when she hears it, so soft and gentle. She pouts softly, staring down at you while she's already moving to position her pussy over yours, tossing your leg over her shoulder.

"What are you laughing at...hm?" She questions softly, her hips slowly moving against yours as she lets out a soft moan, eyes never leaving yours.

You can barely get the words out, eyes rolling to the back of your head as you feel her slick pussy against yours, clits bumping together in a way that has you nearly salivating.

She chuckles above you, a soft groan following the noise as her lips graze along your calf.

"Thats what I thought...fuck....your pussy is too fuckin good, princess' She moans out softly, her hips moving slowly against yours.

You moan loudly, your hand coming to grip her thigh as you move your hips in tow with hers.

"F-fuck, Ellie....you...that feels so good" you babble out, your other hand gripping the sheets beneath you as she fucks her pussy down onto yours.

Ellie smirks softly as she watches you, watches the way you fall apart beneath her.

"Thats my fuckin girl....you're the only fucking one I need...fuck...." She groans, turning her head a bit to kiss your calf again before her teeth sink into you, biting and sucking your skin, making you moan loudly.

You feel her speed up, hips growing desperate as she chases both hers and your orgasm, making your head spin as your nails dig into her thigh, sure to leave marks in the morning.

"Im....god...Im close Ellie.....fuuuckkkk....dont stop" you gasp out, low, lust filled eyes staring up at her as she continues bullying your pussy with hers, both of your arousal squelching together, making the most explicit noise you've ever fucking heard.

"Come on baby...want you to cum for me...can you do that? Fuck...I feel it too....that's it, pretty girl.." Ellie is babbling too, her lust clouded braun barely uttering words that are comprehensible.

You see her eyes squeeze shut, her moans getting louder and more high pithed, sounding so fucking pretty above you.

You feel like you'll explode, your back arching as the familiar feeling settles in your core, your pussy getting wetter and wetter as you feel your orgasm grow closer.

"A-ah! Ellie!" You scream out as you come undone beneath her.

And she isn't far behind, leaning down and crashing her lips against yours, forcing you to swallow her moans as she cums hard against your pussy, the both of you breathing hard as her hips sputter, pussy sliding around sloppily against yours as she becomes so fucked out, that she loses her rhythm completely.

And just like before, she lays there, on top of you, trying to catch her breath, face tucked against your neck, hands keeping you close, as if you'll disappear in thin air at any given moment.

There's so much going through your head, trying to figure out what it is that happens from here, where you and here go, what steps to take after, all of which come up with blank answers whenever you try to figure out what to do.

You assume she will fall asleep on you as she did before, knock out immediately and leave you to lay there with your plaguing thoughts.

She doesn't, though. You hear a soft hum from her lips, her hands squeeze your waist gently, before she speaks against your neck.

"I love you...so much.." she sighs out, her voice breaking a bit as if shed break down at any given moment.

You aren't sure what you'll do from this point on, but you do know one thing.

You won't run away from Ellie, ever again.

#ellie williams #ellie williams smut #ellie williams x y/n #ellie williams x female reader #ellie williams x you #ellie tlou #ellie x y/n #ellie the last of us #ellie x you

[wttcsms]

as it was ; suguru geto.

pairing suguru geto x f!reader  word count 4.2k  synopsis suguru comes back, only to find that you've been waiting and wanting this whole entire time. content contains modern no curses!au, gojo's sister!reader, brother's best friend, creampie, pet names (good girl, baby), most of the fic is geto's introspection, possessive sex, mutual pining/longing author’s notes im not even horny for geto like that, but i wanted to write angsty smut abt spreading ur legs for a guy that left u & who else is better for this than geto <3

First words are always a bit tricky to get right, especially whenever he has to take into account that he essentially ghosted you a couple of years ago, after taking your virginity no less, and now he’s back in the godforsaken city he swore he was never coming back to, and he’s just at a loss about what to say and more importantly, how to say it. 

He supposes an apology, for starters, would be a good first move. And maybe it would be, could be, should be, if only he wasn’t him and you weren’t you, and the two of you were not something so confusing and intricate that it’s hard to put into words and harder still to describe with emotions. The two of you are something raw and painful, both of you taking turns playing both sadist and masochist. 

Even to himself, the extent of your relationship sounds twisted, but there was always an underlying purity to it, something that justified its existence. To this day, Suguru Geto is certain that you’re the only person who ever loved him for him, with a love so pure and just that he tries to hide it from everyone else before they can get their filthy hands on it and taint it, twist it into something it’s not. 

Sorry I left won’t cut it, and Geto doesn’t even bother trying to come up with any other variations of apology because it’s not necessarily your forgiveness that he’s come back for. The opportunity to say “I’m sorry” and have it actually mean something has long since passed. All that’s left to say is the truth for why he left, which for some odd reason, seems even harder to do than his original disappearing act.

I missed you — that’s a slight improvement. It’s the truth, if not an understatement of it. He doesn’t regret leaving Tokyo, he just regrets leaving you. Which he could say, if you would actually open the door to face him. 

He figures it’s what he deserves. He deserves worse, if he’s going to be entirely honest. He deserves a slap to the face, or a kick to his balls, or for you to tell him that you hate him, that you never want to see him ever again. 

He knocks on your apartment door, harder this time, as if it’s something urgent. And maybe it is. He’s felt more like himself than he ever has after moving, but the solitude of the countryside got boring soon after, leaving him only with the ghosts from his past to keep him company. He thinks if he doesn’t see you, in the flesh, he might actually go insane. 

He knocks again, only to be met with more silence and a door that’s starting to become more of a familiar sight than he would like. Fuck, what is he even doing? Showing up here was a bad idea to begin with, and it’s only seemingly getting worse by every agonizing second that ticks by. Even if you do open the door, there’s always the chance that you won’t let him get a single word in — that’d be the smart choice, anyway. 

And you’re a bright girl, don’t get him wrong. Something about the Gojo bloodline makes your family incapable of producing anything less than prodigal sons and daughters. If you’re not proof of this fact, there’s your older brother.

Yet another reason why showing up here is such a shitty plan. Satoru will catch wind of his visit, and when he does, he’ll show no restraint in showing Suguru what all of his private boxing lessons are good for. A broken nose and missing tooth would be a fair exchange to see you for at least a second, though. A tradeoff that he doesn’t need to debate on. 

You have to leave your apartment eventually. Suguru dances with the idea of just making camp outside your door and waiting for your stubbornness to fizzle out. It’ll be embarrassing, and your neighbors will surely have something to say about it, but it would be well worth it.

He hears the ding! of the elevator opening and human reflex causes his head to turn at the sound of the noise. 

Oh.

The world becomes contradictory at this very moment. The air suddenly stills, but the atmosphere itself seems to come alive at the same time. Stagnant air, bursting with electricity and something awe-inspiring. Everything seems to slow down, but suddenly he’s acutely aware of just how alarmingly fast his heart is beating. It’s been a while since he’s last seen you, not even bothering to check up on your social media because he knows one DM from you would have him crossing the ocean to be back by your side. 

The reason why you weren’t answering your door was simply because you weren’t even home. Relief floods his body, makes him less tense, only for him to stiffen up once more whenever his eyes trail over to the warm body awfully close to you. 

Or maybe it’s the other way around, since you’re the one clinging onto him.

You and Kento Nanami both look like you two have seen a ghost, and all things considered, you wouldn’t be wrong. 

“What are you doing here?” You’re the first to speak, with Nanami’s arm wrapped protectively around your waist, and it’s this closeness that’s the only thing Suguru finds himself able to focus on. It’s been years. He shouldn’t feel this way. You’re free to do whatever you want with whoever you want. It’s your life. He’s the one that chose to walk out of it, anyway. 

“I just wanted to talk,” he answers. Which isn’t a lie. He wanted to talk. He wanted to fight and make up and fuck your brains out and beg for forgiveness and cook you breakfast in the morning and warm your bed, amongst other things, too. But, he figures the condensed version of his list will do, especially considering that three’s a crowd, and most of his itinerary was for your ears only. “Did I come at a bad time?” 

You bite your bottom lip, slowly removing yourself from Nanami’s grip. Nanami looks at you first, concern evident in his warm eyes, eyes that you wish were just a bit darker and colder, so that they would be the ones you’re so accustomed to drowning in. 

You like Nanami well enough. He’s kind and looks out for you, and sometimes you even consider making a move on him first since he’s too much of a gentleman to cross any boundaries. Then again, you don’t think Nanami sees you as anything more than a little sister, and the last time you fucked one of your brother’s best friends… 

It’s why you just give Nanami a smile, one that tells him that you’ve got this under control. His facial expression doesn’t give any indication of what he’s thinking, but the glare he sends Suguru’s way says enough. 

Suguru can appreciate the fierce protectiveness Nanami has towards you, but it doesn’t mean he likes it. Especially when it’s Suguru that’s considered to be the threat.

You move to unlock your door once Nanami makes his reluctant exit, and when you enter your apartment, you conveniently don’t shut the door. Suguru trails behind you.

You turn on the lights, your living room and kitchen blending together in an open-floor plan, bathed in the stark, white lights hanging from your high ceilings. Your apartment, at least what Suguru can see of it, is tastefully decorated. Courtesy of your mother, he’s sure. He would ask about her, ask how she’s doing, but he figures now’s just not the right timing. 

It doesn’t seem to be the right timing for anything he wants to say. He wants to mention that he’s thought about you, thought about reaching out — sometimes to explain himself, and other times just to discuss the mundane aspects of life — but he thinks that would be even worse than apologizing. It would be cruel of him to dangle this information in your face, haunt you with the knowledge that all this time, he’s truly been avoiding you. Knowing you, you would have questioned him on why he didn’t bother reaching out, and he would have been stuck admitting that it’s simply because he was too scared that you wouldn’t answer. 

“Want a drink?” You ask him, back facing him as you peer into your fridge. He catches a glimpse of shiny glass bottles, water bottled in Europe and with the optimal pH balance, he’s certain of it. His throat feels a bit dry, but he tells you no. 

“I drank enough water on the drive up here,” he tells you, which again, isn’t a lie. Suguru feels a bit pleased with himself, even if it is a bit narcissistic of himself for expecting a pat on the back for doing something so simple. He supposes it’s just because he’s gotten so used to never being honest with himself — or others, for that matter — so his current streak for telling the truth seems like something to celebrate. 

“I didn't drink enough.” You say, and he can’t tell if it’s alcohol you’re talking about or water. You’re a lightweight; yet another trait that seems to be passed down the Gojo family. That explains Nanami escorting you home, then. 

“Aren’t you going to ask how I found you?” Suguru helps himself to taking a seat on the white couch in your living room. Because there’s no walls separating the two different spaces, he can still look at you from this position as you rest your elbows on your kitchen’s island, as if needing the support. 

“If you wanted me to know, you’d let me know.” It’s the way you say it that reveals that this comment isn’t made just in reply to his current question, but for everything else Suguru was going to follow it with. Don’t you want to know where I went? Don’t you want to know why I left? 

It’s amazing what humans are capable of. Nearly six years since the two of you have lost contact — since Suguru broke all contact — and yet, you can still read him just as well as he can read you. You see him for what he is, not whatever mask he wants to disguise himself with, and it’s scary, he thinks. Scary to be seen by someone. And nice. It’s nice to have someone know you’re a monster and still not run away.

He’s not quite sure what that says about you.

“It’s a bit of a funny story.” He says, trying to steer this conversation to a more lighthearted tone even though the two of you are nowhere close to feeling light and the jury’s still out on whether or not Suguru Geto has a heart. “You don’t need the reminder, but don’t ever tell Mei Mei a secret you want to keep.” 

The mention of your shared friend — if Mei Mei can even be considered one — makes the corners of your pretty mouth tilt upward. Mei Mei was born with a silver spoon, but the running joke is that it wasn’t in her mouth because she bartered with the doctor and blackmailed him into giving her a gold one. If you have the funds, Mei Mei has the information you’re looking for. 

She’s the only number Suguru saved in his phone contacts, and it’s only because he knew that if he needed anyone else’s number, Mei Mei would readily give it after her Venmo request goes through. 

“Of course she would tell you my address.” You say, but you don’t sound upset at all. Just amused, like this whole situation is something endearing, and you don’t harbor any ill feelings towards either of them, even though both Suguru and Mei Mei technically violated your trust. Suguru more so than Mei Mei, but, well, semantics. 

“Aren’t you mad?” The “at me” is unspoken.

“Mei Mei is a free spirit.” It’s a joke, and Suguru makes a sound from his throat that resembles a laugh. Mei Mei may do whatever she wants, but nothing about her comes free.

He knows you know what he was actually asking. He’s been trying to gauge your reaction to everything he says, trying to see if you hate his guts or not. 

“I missed you.” You tell him suddenly, and while he’s imagined those words coming out of your mouth, it still shakes him up a bit. It’s hard constantly posturing as if he’s cool and collected, nothing ever bothering him, his body and expression never betraying him. But it’s his heart that gives him away, and it’s heart that you hold, and no matter what face he puts on, he knows that you’ll know what the words he won’t say are.

“Don’t apologize.” You continue, closing the distance between you two and opting to take a seat next to him. There’s about six inches of space separating you two. The distance shapeshifts in his mind, sometimes becoming mere millimeters and sometimes feeling more like there’s an ocean between you both. 

The sorry was on the tip of his tongue and it traveled all the way there from his heart. It would be a waste of a journey for him to not say it, but he’s certain the apology would do more harm than good, even if it is genuine. 

Suguru stands out against the stark white of your apartment. Your mom likes the aesthetic of it, and since it’s your parents’ money, you merely shrugged and let her do whatever she wanted. In his black pants and black sweatshirt, he looks almost out of place in your home. 

The thought that he doesn’t belong makes your heart hurt more than the burn of the alcohol from tonight going down your throat. 

You don’t waste time wondering where Suguru went because for all intents and purposes, you never even knew where he came from to begin with. You knew him since you were children; your favorite out of all your brother’s friends because it was always Suguru who let you tag along and trail behind them. No one really knows much about Suguru’s life, his past, present, and future all a big blur to anyone but himself. From the way he slowly turns to face you, dark eyes meeting yours, you start to think of the possibility that maybe not even Suguru is an open book with himself. 

Suguru looks like a shadow, standing out from the brightness of everything that is surrounding him in your living room. You want to ask him the questions that plague your mind ever since he’s been gone, but you don’t, because you’re scared he is a shadow. One wrong move, and he just disappears from your grasp once again. 

There are the hard-hitting questions, of course. The ones that search for why he left and why he told no one and why he didn’t bother taking you. Then there are the gentler ones that would still require him to rip himself open and bare himself to you, things like how’s your new place and meet anyone interesting? You feel his gaze travel from your eyes to the slope of your nose and the apples of your cheek, downward to your lips. The intensity of his stare makes you nervously lick your lips, a tiny, quick action, but his eyes greedily take in the sight of the tip of your pink tongue casually making an appearance, only to retreat behind your pretty pink, glossed lips. 

“Are you mad that I came back?” Suguru finds himself taking the role of interviewer, since it’s evident to the two of you that you know better than to bother asking him any questions. He feels like you’re treating him a bit like a stray cat, all cautious and scared of provoking him or forcing him to run away. He wants to tell you that this is not the case and that he actually plans on staying this time around, but he hasn’t entirely convinced himself yet, so he’s not going to break your heart with any more empty promises. 

“No. Like I said, I missed you.” He wants to be able to blame your honesty on account of you being drunk, but he knows that you’ve just always been honest to a fault. 

“You shouldn’t.” He tells you this, and you scoff. Probably because Suguru is the last person who should be giving any sort of life advice. 

“Guess what I’m thinking.” You say, and Suguru feels something come alive from within, like he’s been frozen for the past six years, and the more he gets to bask in the warmth of your presence, the more he starts to defrost. There’s not a single hint of anger or malice in your tone, just the familiar, lighthearted, girlish tone of yours. 

“That you think I’m a creep and want me to get the hell out.” 

You frown, rolling your eyes, tucking your feet beneath you to get more comfortable on the couch.

“I’m thinking about that last time you told me I shouldn’t be doing something.” There’s a gleam in your bright eyes that clearly spells out desire, and Suguru is very, very close to defrosting. In fact, there’s a heat that’s beginning to settle deep in him, and maybe he should know better than to indulge in it, but it’s been years, and you are sitting here in front of him, pretty and fresh, and his hindbrain takes the driver’s seat. 

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” But he does know, and he knows that you know that he knows, just as you seemingly know everything about him. Maybe not about his childhood — or lack, thereof — or what he’s been up to, but you know the important stuff. The things that make him tick and all the words he fails to say. Three words. Three words that he doesn’t think he’ll ever muster enough courage to say to you, but from the look in your eyes, you already know. 

“I’ll jog your memory.” 

And suddenly, your lips are pressed against his. You’re kissing him, and like the lovesick fool he is, he’s kissing you back. It’s pure muscle memory, maybe even animal instinct. He thought that leaving Tokyo was the right thing to do, and for the most part, it was, but with your lips perfectly melding with his own, he thinks that leaving was stupid. 

Making out is such a juvenile ordeal, but he relishes in it because Suguru feels like he’s spent most of his youth trying to outrun it, and now he’s trying to take advantage of what his boyhood should have consisted of. The kisses are now bordering on sloppy and hazy, and somehow, you end up straddling his lap. He’s hard, and he should be embarrassed at popping a boner just from wet kisses, but it’s you. You have an effect on him that no one else does. His Achilles. The one weakness only he can feel. 

Suguru knows that he is not a good person because a good person doesn’t go behind their best friend’s back and fucks their little sister. He had told, thirty minutes before introducing you to the feeling of his cock stretching you out, that the two of you shouldn’t be doing that. Suguru knows that he is not a good person because he cannot be any happier at the fact that history has a funny way of repeating itself. Six years later, and the two of you are back in a similar position.

You’re starting to rut against him, your dress riding up your thighs and exposing more of your skin to him. Suguru helps himself to handfuls of your soft flesh, squeezing in a manner that can’t be defined as gentle, but he loves how you take him as he is without any sort of complaint. All you do is let out a low moan, your pantyclad pussy grinding against his equally clothed bulge. 

Your movements are a bit desperate, frenzied. You’re getting lost in pleasure already, and he hasn’t even done much to elicit such a reaction. The idea that only he can get you this riled up with doing so little makes him impossibly harder, and he looks down, realizing that you’re so soaked, your panties are practically translucent. 

The two of you have the option of taking things slow, but neither of you want to do that. When you spend some time starving, you don’t savor the meal, you scarf it down. 

That’s what the two of you are — hungry, greedy — as you both hastily strip as much clothing as you can bear to spend time getting out of. Your minidress is tossed carelessly on the living room floor, and Suguru can only bother with unzipping his pants and pushing down his briefs just enough to free his cock. 

The intrusion of the tip of his cock entering your wet, needy cunt is less of an intrusion and instead akin to something rightfully returning to where it belongs. Your hands are tangled in his hair, and he relishes this feeling. This wholeness, this concept of being complete.

The inviting warmth of your pussy makes him want to cum right on the spot, but he can��t waste it. He’s spent years pining after you, missing you, and he wants you to feel like the time apart had been worth it. 

“I missed you.” This time it’s him who makes the admittance. You tighten up at this confession, and it evokes a low groan from him, almost as if you had forced the sound to come from all the way down his throat.

“I know.” You gasp out, not able to speak clearly with how deep Suguru is hitting. Your living room is filled with the wet clicks and slaps of skin against skin, your juices coating his cock every time he pulls out. 

The vein on the underside of his cock rubs against your walls, and the slight curve of it enables him to hit that gummy spot inside of you that has you seeing stars. You’ve never given much thought to cocks, but you know that Suguru’s is the prettiest of them all. 

“Tell me you’re mine.” He grunts out, lips brushing against the soft skin of your neck before biting down; gentle enough not to draw blood, sharp enough to still leave a mark. You rock against him, hips moving in tandem with his thrusts, the steady hum of pleasure continuously building up in your lower belly. You are dizzy with pleasure; blanketed in it, being spoon fed it. 

He doesn’t need you to say it to know it’s true, but you moan it out anyway, both to appease him and because there’s a sort of pride in knowing that you belong to him. 

“I’m yours. I belong to you.” The words are separated, punctuated, by the little gasps for air you give out because with every word, he thrusts up even harder, hitting that special spot that will have you cumming all over him, making a mess. 

“Yeah?” It comes out sounding like a shaky breath, and he’s close, you know it, you can feel it. 

Calloused pads belonging to fingers much larger than yours are being pressed against your clit. You’re soaked, and the dryness of his hands combining with your overall slickness gives way to delicious friction that has you cumming with his name as a broken moan filtering through your swollen lips. 

“That’s it, baby. Good girl. Good fucking girl.” He mutters, relishing in the way your walls tighten, spasm, clenching and unclenching sporadically as your body loses its energy and you press yourself up against his chest.

He follows after just a few more sloppy thrusts, the last one forcing himself as deep inside of you as possible. His cum is hot and thick, and it’s filling you to the brim. If he pulls out now, it’ll flood out of you, and the thought is both sad and hot at the same time. You want his cum inside of you, to serve as a reminder that this is real, that he’s real. 

But seeing the physicality of him staking his claim, white seed dripping out of you, turns you on. Him, too, with the look of fascination and boyish wonder he has in his eyes as he stares at how the two of you are connected.

Before he can bother with confirming a round two, a sharp knock on the door has the two of you comically jumping a bit in surprise, both of you glancing at the door and then at each other.

“[Name], I know you’re in there!” You freeze. 

Satoru. 

Suguru wants to try to calm you down, whisper to you that everything’s going to be fine, but the anger laced in his best friend’s — former best friend’s — voice is enough to make him freeze up, too. Not just his icy tone, but what he says.

“I know you’re back, too, Suguru.”

#suguru geto x reader #suguru geto x you #geto suguru x reader #suguru geto smut #geto suguru smut #one shot #jjk x reader #jjk smut #angst #drabble #imagine

[undercoverpena]

in my room

javier peña x f!reader | masterlist

summary: Because it’s an exchange, a two-way thing. He doesn’t tell you he likes your hair and you don’t tell him you fuck him so you don’t think.

wordcount: 6.2k (im so sorry, this was meant to be short)

warnings: explicit. smut + angst. colleagues who fuck for stress relief. grumpy-ish javi. file room shenanigans. unprotected p in v. oral!f receiving, mention of m!receiving. javi’s hand being a necklace. cum eating (by Javi), mild rough sex? mentions of grief (due to canon-compliant death), season two compliant/spoilers for season two. javi has a filthy mouth. joetics (jo and her poetic nature, credit to @/goodwithcheese for the name), no use of y/n but javi calls you princesa/baby.

an: dedicated to javi-edit-anon, hope you're doing okay.

It begins swarmed in grief.

A chest full of conflicting emotions, fingers itching for another smoke. It is all put into motion by the same person who became the catalyst—the match to the flame, the cause of the inferno.

He doesn’t usually wander around the building. But, today was a lot of firsts. Jaw clenched. Fingers digging into his palm at the memory, the realisation—the fucking play-by-play—of how he’d been played, fucked over, used.

Now, he’s left riddled with the knowledge that he’d lost a friend a few hours ago because of something he did. The understanding of it rusting in his stomach, right next door to the place disgrace is building a home where his gut had been.

He’s not thinking, not seeking—a desperation to run and hide, yet has nowhere to go.

And then he comes across you.

Finds you in the hallway like you were sent to save him. To pull him out of the water, pump the liquid from his lungs and smother the flames from burning his skin.

The two of you having stopped, paused in your travels.

Just two isolated shadows in the middle of the corridor—an invisible line being drawn, a noticeable white mark—backlit by sorrow and emptiness.

You don’t tear your eyes from him. Stubborn, even on your loss. Purposefully, intentionally, holding his gaze across the empty corridor.

Usually, you're so put together he feels contempt at how you seem unfazed at being surrounded by the shit they all have to do daily. But now, you look every bit as undone as him—shirt untucked, sadness stitched into your usually tight, rigid frame.

The only thing similar is the way you look at him, just like you did when the hours ticked on during those late nights you were forced to work together.

Files opened, documents scoured. Two eyes fairing better than one in their search. The toe of your shoe tapping against his desk, your fingers circling the rim of your mug full of coffee (never liquor, only coffee), pen clicking and clicking—

It had been Carrillo who had paired the two of you. Handing him a task, a surname—one Javi hadn’t heard—and the option of an extra pair of hands: you’ll see she’s good, and we don’t want her poached.

Then, he’d laid eyes on you.

You who’d he’d seen around, but never the chance to talk to. Had no reason to. You forever moved in any direction but the one he was heading in whenever he came into sight. That had been well over a month ago, weeks now.

In that time, he learnt your snark, your laugh—the way you take your coffee and your petulance for sugar after 8 pm—all proper in how you handle yourself, like royalty.

It’s then he learned that you hated being called princesa. Lips curling when it dripped from his lips, back straightening—all close to fracturing, snapping. So naturally, he called it you more.

It became—like the rest of it—a habit. He dropped the name as easily as he began pushing some of his shit to the side for you, so you had a space, a small corner of his desk you could commandeer when you joined him.

It didn’t mean anything. A thing be recited, thought to himself as he buried himself inside Gabriela—who looked nothing like you.

Then, a week ago, you were already there before he got back. The soles of his shoes had come to a standstill at the top of the steps, staring at the back of you—taking you in.

There was no need to see your face, Javi knew that you knew he was there. Not saying a thing when he seated himself down, the same way he didn’t with each tap of your shoes’ toe against the metal frame and you bit the end of your pen. He’d decided weeks ago, when you wore a shirt you felt the need to undo two buttons off, that if you weren’t paired with him to torture him, he wasn’t sure what else you were sitting next to him to test him for. But he’d find out, work it out.

Then you cracked it—found it, the anomaly, the name, a connection. A semblance of something in a sea of shit. A straw to grasp, to pull—your lips, likely stained from coffee and ink, twisting into a grin, one he couldn’t help but admire.

“¿Cómo?”

Pulling a face, he had only shrugged, feeling you watch him, answering with a, “You’re good.”

“You just realised? You just notice I got tits, too?”

Leaning back in his chair, he shifts his jaw to the side. Watching you stack papers before holding his stare, letting you see him flick his eyes from yours to your lips. Suddenly all unsure how to even begin telling you that he’d noticed you—had done so since they were all forced into this fucking building.

But you’d caught him, snapped him in plain sight with those beautiful eyes of yours. “Resorting to kissing colleagues now. Fucking whores not doing it for you, Peña?”

He had smirked, wider, but it had been tough. Leaning forward, he traced his bottom lip with his thumb. “You heard about that.”

Nodding, you’d smiled—cockily, full of something other than kindness. “Half the women will be lining up if they think you have free time.”

“But not you?”

Then, you’d stood, head tilted, files in the neatest pile compared to the rest of his desk, as you rolled your lips. “No. Not me. Goodnight, Peña.”

That exchange had been before things had gone to shit.

Before his cock had undone it all, left several people dead and the person who’d paired you together, gone. Taken—leaving a widow and children without a father.

Snorting, he focuses on clearing his throat as he replays it all. How much of a fever dream it all feels, his other hand pinching his thigh as he stares at you studying him, not scurrying off like he half expects.

And the fact you don’t makes his fingers itch at his side.

A part of him, suddenly stronger than all other parts, battles to move closer to you—like he needs to see what your mouth feels like on his. Like he’s been without his fill. It’s why even as much as he wants you to close the gap, he doesn’t move. Wants you to have an out—an escape.

A chance to choose whether you want to wake up with regret. Because even he knows sleeping with him ends in two ways, and shame is usually one of them.

“You should go inside your room.”

But of course you don’t. Instead, it’s the soles of your shoes on the floor that get louder, closer.

“Do you want me to, Peña?”

It’s building, rising. His eyes trailing up and down you, mouth chewing his tongue as he gets another taste of liquor, as he finally lets his gaze land back on yours.

“You want me to walk away from you?”

No. It’s final. Gruff. More spat out than said—laced with failure and remorse—but you hear him. Loud and fucking clear.

So much so, your lips twist up, smirking more devilish than he knows what to do with. “Good.”

It’s quick—you’re quick. Yanking him close as he forces you flush against him. His mouth crashes, steals and takes as his lips sear themselves to yours. And he learns, quickly, you’re not soft, but biting.

You are all jagged sweetness that throws a curve ball in how he knows how to handle this. You. Your lips taste of sadness, tears and liquor, all cheap—so very unlike what he imagines for you—and you make a knot tighten in his core as your palm flattens over his hardening cock in his jeans.

“You tested?” he asks, hand cupping your jaw, tilting your eyes up, pulse racing against his wrist—skin warm, scorching.

“Are you!?” you spit, and he almost snorts until your fingers knot in the base of his hair, pulling, likely hoping it hurts.

And it does.

Makes him groan—but he’s quick to smother it in the back of his throat. Flatten it, hide and conceal. Getting his answer for an exchange of your own.

“We should go inside my room,” you say in response to him, pulling down on him, Javi finding he bends with far too much ease as his ear finds itself close to your lips, “I’m not quiet when I’m enjoying myself.”

Twisting you, he flattens your back to his chest, rough, hearing you breathlessly laugh. “You know what you’re doing, baby, huh?”

And you’re silent, brain whirring as he begins walking you, till your chest is almost against your door.

Open it, he whispers, watching your hand dig for the key, his mouth latching to your neck, swirling a circle on your skin, tasting lingering perfume and sweat as he grips your waist.

“Last chance.”

He hears you laugh, low, buried somewhere in your throat just as the door unlocks, all loud, cutting through the silence other than both of your racing breaths. It’s why, he supposes, his words echo in his stare as you turn your head. Rolling your lips. It's all so reminiscent of the stare you gave him at the foot of his desk—but this time, you collide your mouth with his.

Not leaving—not doing anything except turning in the space between your door and him. Those nails, the ones that tapped now scrape across his hair, burying, carding, as you lightly pull on strands—forcing a groan to bury itself in your throat, find a new home, live there.

It's quick, practically animalistic the way he sheds your layers—baring you, finding (unsurprising) that even in misery you still match. His fingers run over it on your hip, rolling his lips, the tip of his tongue swiping across as he admires, as he steals a second to commit you to his mind.

Because he’s not sure if he’ll ever get to again.

“Last chance,” you echo.

Repeating his words, using them against him. Flicking the fabric against your skin, he snorts and he flips you. Sharply telling you to get on your bed, all-fours—bend over, hermosa.

“This how you pictured it at your desk?”

He barely registers your words until he’s behind you, bare, hand sliding between your thighs as he smirks at the noise you make. How you take him, all the way up to his knuckles—his free hand stroking himself to the in and out his other hand sets, desperation mixing with a need to forget—for a moment peace from thinking, existing, being.

And you’re drenched. Practically desperate. Hips moving with his movements and strokes, the air tinged with the littlest whimpers before replacing his fingers with the head of his cock, dragging it, skating it spitefully over your slick folds.

That’s when it meets his ears, those distinct words—ones he doesn’t know will haunt him just yet—I want to feel you inside me, Peña.

It unlocks something—floods him. Taking in a breath before he glides in, burying himself in you, right to the hilt, going deep.

He revels in your tightness. The way you gasp at the feel of him—fingers digging, scrunching them into your sheets, before he wrenches you up off your hands, needing your back flush with his—a move he realises, painstakingly, he’s done before.

Softening his palm anchored on your hip, lips pressing to your jaw—the other hand busy feeling, enjoying, basking in how you swallow against his palm on your neck.

“You like that, princesa?”

You moan as his hips snap, taking him so well, so perfectly—a thing he tells you, a rush of good girl, good princesa taking me like this. And he expects a bite, a flurry of insults—an exchange that would mean this would shift from stress relief to hate fucking.

But it never arrives. Instead, it’s a barrage of chants, all yes, please, yes, painting the shitty room—giving the crumbling paint something to be disgusted at, other than its own despair. The metal legs of the bed squeal against the floor, the headboard hammering, and cluttering, leaving a mess of years of repainting along the cheap flooring.

“Take me so well. Y’know that?”

Fingers just above your collarbone, pressing, feeling your head resting on his shoulder, eyes seeking his, determined to locate them and take something from him for it. He lets you. Briefly, just enough.

“Harder, Peña,” you hiss, shoving it out through clenched teeth, blinking, breaking the eye line.

“Javi,” he hisses deep into your ear, hand sliding down between your thighs—above where the two of you are joined.

Thumb expertly swirling, tracing the letters of his name against your throbbing clit—the sound of his cock fucking into you growing louder, sloppier. Arm thrown around your waist, feeling the way your skin is sheened in sweat, practically a mess from head to fucking toe, all because of him. Crown slid, shattered in a thousand parts across the floor, because of him.

A realisation that almost nears him to the edge, to bursting, to emptying inside your perfect fucking pussy and stuffing you full of him.

Teeth gritted together, jaw tight as he peers at the place your bodies join—watching, in admiration, as you take him, suck him in, barely let him able to leave your tight pussy as your heart hammers against his forearm.

“When I’m doing this to you,” he grunts, teeth pinching at your ear, your hand gripping his wrist—thumb still swirling, the A and V being a favourite from the way you clench around him tighter, and tighter, “You call me Javi.”

It undoes you. It ripples and then bursts through you—clenching all around him, tightening, squeezing him until his vision blurs and your name curls somewhere on his tongue, all set to be spat, spoken, even fucking whispered. Somehow able to swallow it when it unfurls through him, when it shoots up his spine and surges through every nerve and muscle.

The two of you collapsing against the shitty mattress, the squealing bed, as you turn in his grasp—lips finding his, burying words against him, only soft murmurs finding his ears.

He’s hard to avoid.

More so, when a part of you wishes to be a puzzle—a thing he cannot crack. Something that would take time to understand and figure out. Because then you’d be interesting, layered, something that could matter.

All of which, you suspect he knows when he kisses you after having his face buried before your thighs, tongue saturated in you, now licking into your mouth.

There’s something truthful in it, in the way his palm cups your entire jaw and chin, holding you, keeping you rooted for a few moments before you taste yourself on his tongue and can take note of what he’s done to you. For you.

Except, you don’t meet his eyes. Somehow fearful the space between your thighs has spilled all your secrets to him. Because he’s a connoisseur, likely gifted in being able to decipher the text on your inner walls. Hooked nose dragging along your slick core before coming up for air and seeing how ordinary you were, how boring, how average. He’s likely traced the pads of his fingers over the etchings of all the things that haunt your mind, the things that thrum and go bump in the fucking night.

But he comes back. Again, and again.

And you can't understand why.

You don’t ask either. Instead, you bury any of that against his tongue, and when it’s desperate to come out, a wish to ask him, you instead choose with fluttering lashes and parted lips if you can suck his cock. If he can fuck your throat, if he can stuff you full in one end before the other—

Words can’t escape if your tongue is occupied.

A thing harder to do in the day-to-day. As things around the place return to normal—other priorities sweep over and make people forget their sadness.

It’s why you’re not avoiding him, but you haven’t sought him out.

Too afraid of what you’ll confess when you’re not on your knees. A simple softening of his brown eyes almost forces words to rip up your throat and colour the air.

It won’t do any good. No words will. Not after waking again entangled in an empty sheet. All evidence of his presence gone except the littering of bruises on your hips and thighs and the mess between your legs.

It’s easier, less complicated to keep it like this—a thing you tell yourself as you brush your teeth and wash the leftover tang of him from your mouth.

Stress release, an undoing, an antidote to sadness and a bandage that allows you a moment to heal. You don’t judge him, because he doesn’t judge you either—not the first time, the second or the tenth. Because like recognises like—eyes deciphering how you’re not that different from him.

On the surface, you may pretend to be. Layer secrets and annoyances on top of the other, until it slips into something perfect—a mask, one that any of them can’t peer through and see that you see them all. Because working here is more than hard, it’s more than difficult and often rough.

It’s mornings with your forehead resting on your door wondering if you have it in you and moments alone in dark corners silently wiping away tears.

Most people don’t see your brain, your skills all too quickly forgotten, discarded on the same bit of paper the rest of your history lived when you approached for the role.

You reckon he sees you.

Not because you hoped for it—or because of some teenage fantasy. But, because of the way he looked that night at his desk. Not surprised, but confused as to why you were mainly pushing paper, why you weren’t based where he was, doing what he does. All questions you’ve asked yourself late at night, when your mind doesn’t stop ticking, stop whirring.

You suspect he ticks too. Another thing in common.

While he may have begun his dalliances to gain words, secrets, and stories, you have come to recognise it’s more than that. You know he knows all the names of them—likely lingers in their room. Offering them more than a good time and some money, but something he seeks from them too—companionship, a moment where he’s not DEA and rather something akin to a lover.

From the way he holds himself, Javi doesn’t think he shares that information. But it rolls from him in constant waves when he lights another smoke and drowns his throat in whatever is in his mug. He likes to think he’s effortless and austere, all too weighed down, while being complex, brilliant and wonderful.

It’s why you had wanted to fuck him. Why you had fucked him.

Because, objectively, he is beautiful. All soft in places and firm in others; he has scorching eyes and can offer searing touches. But, under all of that is what made heat blossom up your spine and commanded your thighs to press together for relief.

The way he thinks. The way he shifts his jaw from side to side and traces his finger down the length of his nose. It’s the way he holds himself when he doesn’t have to hold himself at all that makes you want him.

As it makes you feel less alone.

Less like an oddity in how you need to carve your nails into something. Your palm, other people’s flesh; wood, your sheets. All of it just so you become grounded, so there was pain, so there were feelings, so you didn’t float off or drown in a sea of mistakes, regrets and guilt.

It was a combination of both that floating and drowning as to why it happened that first time.

It had been a simultaneous tangling of limbs, a battle, a war both of you attempted to claim—a fight with your mouths, thighs, hands, tongues and bodies. Only stopped when you were both slick with sweat, the tops of your thighs coated with him and your breaths laboured. Your ear to his chest, hearing it—the way he beats, the way he lives. How blood rushes through him, all alive, real, not a fabrication.

Now, though, it’s different.

The grief is lessoned, yet you still find yourself pretending it's as rife as that first night.

A compromise, an opportunity to pretend that’s the reason the two of you do this. When in truth, the reason you don’t judge him, is because you too use sex to feel something. Needed it to claim something, prove something to yourself—that you’re desirable, attractive and fucking wanted. That you’re more than a sharp tongue and a brilliant mind, more than compliments through your way that never land—

That you’re worthy of being fucked to the point you cannot walk straight.

And, he does that so well, twists you, bends you—makes your ears ring with how attractive you are, how good you are, how perfect. A sin that rages a storm in his dreams and a thought he can’t silence.

So you avoid him. Fearful that you no longer wish to feel worthy of being fucked, but be worthy of being fucked by him.

And then he finds you instead.

Palm shoving open the file room door, all loud, like an announcement, before he lets it click into place. Allowing the air to tighten, to squeeze—all so thickening—before he’s charging, so much so the breath is knocked from your lungs with far too much ease when he flattens your back to the wall. The dust blowing from the shelves next to you from the sudden movement, the room quaking, shaking and fucking trembling as his brown eyes flick from one eye to the next.

As though he’s seeking something out.

Some truth, perhaps? A reason, a rhyme.

He splays his fingers across your hip, a hiss trying to escape from your pursed lips as your body threatens to betray you—wishing to curl into him, feel him flush, all warm and easy to escape to. Then, the other finds a home on the wall beside your head, no place to move to, to go—not that you fucking want to.

“I don’t fuck in file rooms, Peña.”

He doesn’t miss a beat. All well-versed, practically a library of quick retorts. “Where do you fuck then? Just your room?”

Surrounded by him, in all the ways that could torture. Nose smothered in the scent that is unabashedly him; eyes unable to look anywhere but him. Slowly, bothersomely, he begins to easily unpick the carefully placed resolve, practically cracking through like it was made of paper and not woven each night as you attempt to stop thinking about him.

Sometimes, it’s easier to think about him.

To snake your hand inside your underwear and ride your fingers with how much you loathe how good he feels. His name is both a curse and a fucking blessing on the tip of your tongue when you come—heat licking up your spine, washing you in something you suspect should be a shame.

But it never is.

Because it’s an exchange, a two-way thing. He doesn’t tell you he likes your hair and you don’t tell him you fuck him so you don’t think.

Instead, you leave that, fold it up, and make it as small as it can be, before you undress for him. Then you fixate on his eyes, on the darkness, the way his pupils swallow the colour you know all the flecks off. You stare, because you hope to see yourself in them—an outline, a shadow, evidence of living, remaining, not chipped away until you’re just stiff work attire and coffee. Something, anything—

Especially when you’re bare. When he stares at you like you’ve been carved for him, by him. When he makes you feel weightless and also like you are never allowed to be anywhere but right here.

It’s an illusion though. A trick of your mind—a delusion where want, need and hope all blend into a concoction that is sold in pink bottles and smells like fruit.

Lifting your chin, you want to chill your eyes and harden your expression. Neither happens.

You’re thrown from your axis, deep brown managing to shroud you, make your mind empty, clear.

“We don’t have to fuck,” he continues, letting it slide from his tongue—slither out, practically hissing. “There’s plenty of ways I can make you moan.”

“I’m sure there is. You’ve paid for the practice, after all.”

His chuckle does nothing to stem the fire—the one out of control somewhere in the pit of your stomach. Clothes suddenly uncomfortable on your skin, your earlier standpoint waning, thinning to the point of transparency.

“Yeah, but I bet you’ve been getting off to thoughts of me—us. How fucking good we are,” he retorts.

Your face blanks, and you hope it’s unreadable.

Because you already have witnessed how skilful he is. Had the unfortunate pleasure of seeing him hold his desk phone since, how he grips his gun, marvelling at the memory of how his fingers feel inside of you, both long and thick. How they engulf yours, practically able to grasp both your wrists in his one hand if he wishes.

But, from the glint in his eye, he’s seen you. Already solved you—cracked you.

“You only had to ask, princesa. Would never leave you wanting.”

You snarl. And it’s that which forces your lips to crash against his, steal more lines from his tongue and tease his mind. Ridding him for once, shaking him empty as your hands clutch the sides of his cheeks. Thankful, more than you care to fucking admit, that his tongue slides past your lips, moves past the back of your teeth—accompanied, and wrapped with it, a groan that vibrates down to your oesophagus.

Bodies pressed together, his mouth slanting over yours as though he’s been wishing to do this for as long as you have. Dizzying, heart-stopping—that’s what kissing him feels like. That’s what indulging feels like.

“I don’t like you.”

Smirking, he runs it over your swollen lips, traces his confidence over your mouth. “Your pussy does though.”

His hand moves, snakes between the two of you—fingers proficient, unwavering from their mission—undoing your trousers, zip sliding down, cutting between the silence as your mouths part, lips ghosting, breaths twisting together in the small gap.

The space is filled with a moan when his hand slides inside your underwear, fingers brushing the delicate nerves that make his name illuminate in your head like it’s been spelt out in light—in candles.

“See? Soaked. Drenched, aren’t you, princesa?”

Your head spins, legs weaken. Body betraying you as it rocks against his movements, curling, craving—desperate and hungry. Because you knew it would be good, that he’d be good. There’s no smoke without fire, and there’d be no discussion over shitty baked cake and decent coffee about his skills if he weren’t best-in-class.

“So fuckin’ needy for me, aren’t you?”

It’s there, ebbing on your tongue, yes, yes yes.

And fuck, you didn’t have him down to be like this. To have you at his mercy, practically dumbfounded, his name and a yes the only things you know, think or say. It falls, rolling from your tongue before his lips busy yours. Kissing you as if he’s starved, as if he wishes to coat his tongue in the way you moan against him—his hand getting slicker, coated in your faux hatred and practised indifference that holds no weight now.

Because you want him. Would gladly let him spin you around and, press your face against a case file box and kick your legs apart. You’d beg for it, want him to hold your hands behind your back as he spears his cock in and out of you, not giving a single fuck that someone could come in—

“Stop thinkin’ about what I could do to you, and more what I am doing to you.”

His eyes on you, blown, full of lust and shimmering with a desire that embeds into your skin until it reaches a whole new temperature. Your tongue is heavy and thick, as your throat struggles to swallow.

If anything, it proves he can listen—just to what he wants. And apparently, that is you. Making it flicker, it suddenly impending, slamming itself onto the track with a focus on its station.

“Think y'like being naughty and letting me do this here.”

Your nerves ablaze, legs quaking as your trousers slide a little further past your knee, pooling at your ankles—his breath dancing across your neck and little hairs.

In vengeance, you nip at his lips, charming kisses that leave him chasing—breaths tangling, teeth biting your bottom lip as you tilt your head. But, he’s resilient, unwavering, hand all but burning inside your underwear, fingers rough, middle and trigger finger calloused and pressed against your swollen nerves as you dig your toes into your shoes so you don’t unravel.

So he doesn’t get to have this so easily.

He knows.

You know he does. Likely knows your brain is firing, tension building, muscles all but quaking in faux-determination. Just barely present to hear what he whispers, but you know it pushes you over.

Gently guides you over the edge as your hips still, throat hoarse as it whispers moans, falling, descending from you as you quickly lose control. He makes you feel alive, full of electricity—blood pumping in your ears as he tastes the way you moan his name. Waves hammering against you, suddenly needing to crash, and they do, they do—

“Fuck, I love making you come.”

His chest rising and falling, pebbled sweat on his brow as he retracts his hand, offers a finger to you—finding you wrap your mouth around it, basking in how he says you’re his good girl.

You suppose that’s why he ends up at your base door past midnight—a silent exchange, a non-verbal promise.

Him and you. You and him.

A brown bag in hand; corruption and a need to not sleep present in his eyes. Drinking you in, lingering his eyes up and down your frame—a sheet clutched against your chest.

You suspect he knows that under this thin fabric, its lace, all ready to be snapped, thrown into some corner, the places they sat covering replaced by the wet expanse of his mouth.

It’s why you let him in, mouth conjoining to his, hearing the door slam behind him as you ruck the leather from his shoulders, down his arms, floor.

“He estado pensando en ti toda la noche.”

A part of you knew he’d come—sensing it. Dressing for the occasion, sliding the lace into place.

Because you know him as much as he understands you.

It’s why you smile, if only to yourself, when he spreads your thighs, coats his cock in your want, and sinks deep into you, rectifying all that is wrong, groaning into your neck as you feel thankful for being full again.

He shouldn’t think you’re a vision, but he does.

Javi learned it quickly, but ignored it at a speed faster than that. Not wanting to be in awe, not wanting to allow himself the chance to think of himself worthy of it.

Except, he’s forever salivating for more of you—desperate for another chance to taste, to hear how your whimpers sound, feel the way your fingers card through his hair, gripping, twisting, pulling.

If someone asked him, he’d confess it on his knees that it’s all he’s thought about. The way your nails feel, how your skin feels. The noises—fuck, the noises you make—and the way your eyes glisten, shimmer, bloom and explode with fucking desire.

“Javier…”

I know, he soothes. The sheet ripped from between the of you, discarded, removed from play as your fingers work his buttons open—more and more skin appearing until he can feel the warmth of your body, your tits against him, nipples peaked as the back of your legs meets the bed.

He’s surprised at the ease you fold for him. Dragging him down, and then you’re under him. Obedient, waiting, needy. He knows it. You know it.

Just like it’s probably obvious that you make him want. That he’s ticking, watching you, unable to tear his eyes away, more so since the other night. Your face close, eyes on the file, cogs turning, brain firing on all cylinders—and when you’d slid your eyes over, he hadn’t been able to not drop his sight to your lips.

The same way he suspects you hadn’t been able to fight doing the same yourself.

It’s why he fucks you with an increased pace, skin slapping, moans more deranged than usual. The drenched fabric between your legs pushed to the side as he drags moan from your lips, wringing them out, stuffing them into some cabinet in his mind that he only opens when he can’t have this, you, writhing, squirming as he fills you to the brim, stuffs you.

“Gotta taste you.” His tongue slides a line down your breastbone, eyes on you, fixated, waiting. “Can I?”

He’s fucking grateful that you nod. Moving, sinking to his knees on the hard floor of your base room—cock hard, dripping, all but throbbing and practically fucking angry. Fingers teasing the fabric, his mouth latching, lace and the taste of him and your desire singeing on his tongue.

And you’re heavenly—a rolling thought which appears as he licks, hearing you react, capturing it all, pocketing it.

Waiting, and waiting, until he feels it—you carding your nails through his hair, tracing lines you likely already suspect others have walked themselves. He wonders if you’re thinking it must be nothing new, nothing out of the ordinary for him, except it was, is.

Because it’s you, they were your fingers—your nails. The ones that type up his reports these days because he can’t type for shit, now typing a story into his scalp, leaving a tale for him to decipher when he tried to sleep later.

He doesn’t look up, too fearful of the sight that he’ll find and never be able to rid of. He keeps his head buried between your thighs, focused, panties still hooked on one thigh, hanging there, pointless and occasionally catching on his palm as he grasps and squeezes your leg. All focused, moving his tongue, working it on you, in you, as though attempting to sort out a kink in the chain—attempting to unravel you in the same way he has done others.

Except, Javi learns, you’re not like them. You’re not something linear, you’re not easy to understand, and there’s no transaction at the end. You’re more than a concept, more than a thing he can undo and figure out just with his tongue, but fuck, he’s sure you would let him try—or at least, he hoped you would.

Right now, he’s enamoured with a task that he finds more rewarding than asking: making you come.

Tongue sinking in, tasting you, coating all of his mouth that he can with you as your hips buck into his face. Nails all perfectly manicured and in a lighter shade than when it was wrapped around his cock last week, drag through his hair. The air punctured with his name—all Javi and Javier’s, not Peña’s and Putas.

He wonders as he spells it on your bundle of nerves, whether you feel it too. This thing—this pulsating, breathing, existing thing that is there all on its own.

A click of his jaw when you laugh at someone else; a flex of his fingers when he finds you in the heart of danger.

Javi reflects—thinks.

But then it goes, fades from mind like dust when you tug on him to move closer, so close your thighs are trembling—likely dangling on the edge of release.

“Need your cock, Javi.”

He doesn’t think about feelings, emotions or the flame he carries for you again—not until you’ve left, leaving him alone, sated, the memory and scent of you being all he has.

The base of his palm presses against his forehead, kneading, cigarette billowing in his other hand because it’s all a fucking mess. From the fact that the fantasy has turned into a reality; the dream has coloured itself until it has become true.

He knew this was real, not concocted by some blackened part of his imagination looking for an escape because you say his name more sweetly than you do in his reverie.

It’s a secret—not known, a thing kept unseen. His walls and sheets know, but not a living soul. And he suddenly wants to change that. Says so much as he moans that you’re mine.

Eyes widening as they stare down at him, hands poised on his chest, hips steadying as you remain seated—filled with him, tits slowly not bouncing.

So he repeats it, “You’re mine.”

No question, no ask.

Watching you swallow, painted in yellow-light which makes the sweat shimmer like glitter.

Rolling your hips, you hold his gaze, consider it, likely question your own goddamn sanity. But then you say it:

“Yours, Peña. I’m yours.”

And he knows he liked it. More than he’ll ever admit. Coming so hard and so quick inside of you once your mouth has twisted into an O and your nails have branded lines into his chest. Hearing it, over and over as he spills into you, relishes in it.

It’s only after, when Javi runs his knuckles along the underside of his jaw, thoughts populating, appearing and popping like balloons, he realises he doesn’t just like it.

It’s more than that.

And that’s why, more than he likely should, he wished he’d asked you to stay. To remain beside him. Let him hold you and make your morning a little better.

Javi could ask. Could half-dress and hammer his fist on your door.

But he doesn’t.

There’s always next time, though.

an: grins wickedly, thought i'd try something new.

#javier peña x reader #javier pena x reader #javi peña x reader #javier peña x reader smut #javi peña x you #javier peña x you #narcos x reader #javier pena x you #javier peña smut #javi pena x reader #narcos javier x reader #narcos javier #pedro pascal x reader #narcos fanfiction #pedrostories #javier peña fanfiction #pedro pascal characters fanfiction #pedro pascal characters #pedro pascal fanfic

[satoruhour]

hello!! ive been lurking on your acc for a little bit and i absolutely adore your writing like omg!! but earlier i got to thinkin about toji (as we all do) and i was thinking about how vulgar i imagine him to be in a sexual context and it makes me like soo shy and im not shy 🙄 im just obsessed with the idea of him saying really filthy shit to us and then practicing what he preaches yk

PRACTISE WHAT YOU PREACH

a/n: i keep falling asleep on the couch writing. and thank u for the inspiration for the name LOL

wc: 2.4k

warnings: reader has the same bite to her as toji does but gets shy when said man says filthy things, dom!toji, implication of sex in parts of the drabble, (public) dirty talk, pet names, he calls you ‘whore’ and ‘slut‘, toji calls you ‘mama’ once, oral (m receiving), deepthroating, spitting (on hand and in mouth), p -> v penetration, clit stimulation, unprotected sex, riidng, praise, degradation, daddy kink at the end, creampie / breeding kink, brief oral / cunnilingus @ the end, n*sfw under the cut

fushiguro toji is a vulgar man inside and out. It’s obvious when he tells the teenage boys to go fuck themselves when he catches them looking at you and you have to slap his bicep, or perhaps grabbing a piece of your ass while waiting in line to pay for groceries and all you can do is send him a nasty glare and a strong nudge of your elbow.

he doesn’t mind his baby fighting back, especially with how easily he can overturn the tables and have you squirming and breathing heavily whenever he gets you under him in the bedroom.

it comes to light first when you’re talking with a co-worker at a company party, talking casually with them before toji comes over with both your drinks. he’s tamer, then, sucking up to your insufferable colleagues even if they didn’t know what they were saying. this dude was clearly eyeing you, too, despite knowing toji was your plus one, and at that point the poor man has had enough.

“how ’bout you invite him back to our hotel and let him watch as i fuck you? maybe then he would stop fucking starin’.” toji passes you your drink as he whispers it, albeit the last part filled with mild bitterness, not entirely as secretive as he would like to be because the colleague’s eyes are widening immediately. he swallows his saliva at the large stature of your boyfriend’s and you just know he did it on purpose. but when you don’t reply and bark back at him with annoyance, toji’s lips curl in a smile, a light bulb going off in his head at his discovery and he’s been incessant since.

“yeah? how ’bout you clean a bathroom for once, fucker,” you roll your eyes, throwing a rag into the bathroom sink, disgruntled at how your boyfriend couldn’t even clean his own sink. it was beyond him to clean the place where water flowed everyday but when he told you that all you could muster was a look of disgust.

you were in no mood for him when you saw him creep in behind you in the mirror, eyes trained on the male who just mutters apologies into your neck, kissing the skin there like a tease and resist the urge to shiver, keeping up your angered expression.

until his words hit. “’m sorry baby, shoulda known better than to say stupid shit like that. how ’bout i make it up to you?”

“like what, toji? you gonna get on your hands and knees and scrub the floors yourself? cause i’d like th—”

“i’ll do it,” but not for the reason you think, “i’ll do it if i get to eat my pretty girl’s pussy out. and then let me pound her while she watches how good i make her feel.”

needless to say, your panties were thrown in the washing machine immediately as he made your moans echo in that squeezy bathroom, and the sink ended up being squeaky clean for the next few weeks.

it’s the best way to get you to shut up and sometimes the way your lips move as you’re rambling about something or how your figure looks as you’re reaching for the tv remote and spouting profanities is just so hypnotising. he’s obsessed with you.

toji stares blankly at you while you’re explaining the way to work the air fryer for the third time that day, and it’s not his fault you’re currently in a camisole. it’s accentuating your tits and the home shorts you’re in isn’t helping either, because he can easily swipe it to the side to fuck into you.

you snap your fingers in front of his face, “wha—? listen to me when i’m talking to you, babe.”

toji just rolls his eyes, something he knows you hate, and he watches your outburst with a lovestruck smile. he catches your snapping hand with ease, switching to holding it. “hey! what did i say about rolling eyes?”

he leans forward, placing his other hand dangerously close to your ass, but the forehead peck distracts you. “i heard you the first time, darling.”

“you—!” toji just laughs at your surprise. sure, he was old as fuck but he wasn’t entirely clueless about the air fryer, but he let you explain and drone on about the settings, knowing you’d be focused on the device. that way, his eyes could travel unforgivingly and just like that, the playful moment is overcome by his vulgar disposition again, the act of his body craving yours before his words made you freeze on the spot.

“but enough about air fryers, hm?” the sight of toji’s hand almost covering yours was enough to send you reeling, but it’s increased when he drags your hand down the hardness of his front. you can feel the ridges of his abs, down, down, down until his bulge. he guides you to squeeze his dick, a guttural groan making its way to the front of his throat. “how ’bout you show me how much your eyes can roll back as my cock disappears into you, huh?”

your breath hitches at the proposition and toji’s smile spreads into a grin at your reaction because it’s like this every. single. time. unconsciously your hands start to undo the knot of his sweatpants, pulling it under his hardened shaft, the other sighing when your hand finally wraps around it. it aches so much that he finds himself thrusting into your hand briefly before you start stroking.

toji gathers a blob of spit on his tongue and maintains eye contact, spitting directly onto his cock for some lubrication and you take a deep breath, slick noises sounding out throughout the house. he makes sure to do it again later. “getting it ready for your pretty little cunt, aren’t you? filthy girl— f-fuck…”

the words make you rub your thighs together, stepping closer to him while you continue stroking, up, down and up, down, determined to give him a taste of his own medicine. pushing him until you’re out of the kitchen, he lets you shove him onto the couch, a loud groan leaving his lips when you descend to your knees and your mouth closes around his cock.

“s’big,” you whimper, swirling your tongue around his angry tip and going back to deepthroating him, desperate to feel his dick down your throat.

“oh— s-shit, baby,” toji pulls back the hair from your head, seeing your eyes barely being able to focus as it hits the back of your throat, “that’s it… suck it like the dirty whore you are.”

the degradation is reason enough for you to bob your head quickly, moaning around his length as your mouth drips drool mixed with the pre-cum from his tip. toji chokes out your name, hips bucking into your warm mouth while your hands find purchase on his thick thighs, taking him down your throat until your nose meets his pelvis. soon he‘s cumming down your throat with grunts, feeling the hot semen rush into your cavern.

“stay there, good fuckin’ girl,” the other groans out when your eyes shift to him, swallowing bits of his cum with a small stream of tears filling your lash line that threaten to fall. he notices your hand sneaking into your panties and he smirks, bringing you off his cock to catch your breath. you sputter and gasp, hand still lightly wrapped around him. he’s still hard after cumming, but he’s also more sensitive.

“can i ride you now?” you ask like it’s any other question, shimmying out of your underwear before wasting no time to straddle him. his tip pokes your pussy and you grab him, dragging him up and down your folds to collect your slick. before long, you’re grinding on the bottom of his shaft, your labia spread along his dick and toji is charmed by how you move on him with needy moans and two hands on his torso.

“sure ya can, doll, but…” you can tell toji’s impatient, as with you, so with a roll of your eyes (toji mumbles under his breath that you’re a hypocrite), you sink down slowly on him, the arousal of your cunt wet enough to take him without prep. inch by inch you take him deep, head thrown back as toji enjoys the view — the curve of your body, how your nipples poke through your camisole — and he smiles as his baby calls out his name from being so full.

“o-oh my god… toji—” the last bits of his name fades out when he moves his hips experimentally, the pain soon fading into pleasure and the feel of his cock in you causes you to lean forward.

“yes?” he grins, body now propped up with his elbows, meeting you halfway, “is my princess tired already?”

“n-no, i can do it,” you mewl when your hips start to bounce, the stretch of his dick feeling so good. he’s reaching places in you that you can’t even fathom, “i can take you…”

toji groans softly at your declaration, body twisted in such pleasure as you soon find a rhythm on him, relishing in the way toji watches you with lust in his eyes. he helps you with a hand on your hips, but the other pushes your top past your tits, mouth latching onto your nipple and taking one into his mouth and the gesture halts your movement for a bit. a chill runs through your body as he swirls his tongue around your bud, a breathless moan leaving you as toji looks up at you through hooded eyes.

it’s got you clenching, and toji hums into your chest, moving to your other nipple before releasing it with a pop! “tired?”

you make a small sound of agreement, the sensations of his thick cock in you paired with his lips on your tits and the burn of your thighs too much for you. he happily indulges you, bringing your body close to him before he plants his feet on the sofa and fucks up into you, a choked moan leaving you. that one thrust was just to tease you, limping into his embrace as he hears the slap of his balls onto your ass.

“you’re taking me alright,” toji laughs, cut off by a moan when he continues his ministrations, entranced by how you’re so wet you manage to leak down his length. with how your pussy is drooling, he rams into you easily, obscene noises of your sopping cunt against his pelvis as your sounds of pleasure comes out in little breaths.

“so wet,” toji comments softly, cock twitching from how your boobs felt against him and how your pussy feels so damn tight. it hugs him so snugly he has to will himself not to cum, but you’re making it difficult by how you call out his name in whines. “don’t tell me she was wet earlier already?”

you can hardly focus on his questions as he bullies his cock into you, body rocking from his relentless hips and the friction of your clit against his skin, but you mutter out a yes, a high-pitched one that’s got toji chuckling.

“my baby loves it when i talk dirty, huh?” you whine into his neck, arms tightening around his neck, “she loves it when i tell her how much i want to slam my cock into her pussy, yeah?” toji is ruthless, continuing to thrust while his words have very much the same effect. “or maybe she wants me to say how i want to cum deep in her cunt, filling her to the brim. shit… does she want me to fuck a baby into her?”

you clamp down around his cock with a loud moan and he stutters, “gotta stop clenching around me, darlin’, f-fuck.”

“y-yeah… wan’ that…” you pull away from your hiding place to babble out, eyes close to closing and drool dripping down the sides of your mouth. “wan’ all your cum, daddy.”

toji sucks in a breath at the name drop and in a second, he’s switching the positions. he admires the sweat on your skin and your heaving chest, and for the first time he’s able to see just how soaking wet you are, along with the stretch of your pussy on him.

“wan’ you to make me a mommy…” you mewl softly, and that’s all it takes for the other to start moving again because if it’s anything he loves more than seeing you crumble at his words, it’s how you tell him what you want.

you can feel toji twitch in you at that, but you have close to no strength, letting him thrust into you with vigour that’s running out too — he’s too besotted with your moans and face that’s morphed into pleasure, along with your whiny pleas.

“c’mon, open your mouth, mama,” toji pulls on your bottom lip with his thumb, “stick out ya tongue.”

you obey, hand squeezing his bicep as he gathers saliva in his mouth again, thrusts stopping briefly. he can feel your hips move, but you’re still focused on how toji purses his lips and how the spit leaves his lips — the long line of spit that descends slowly onto your tongue and the tension that surrounds it tells him you love it.

“attagirl,” he grins, wiping the corners of your cavern as the pace starts up again, and it’s so sudden you already feel like cumming.

“g’nna cum, daddy,” you mutter out, legs closing around him when you feel the familiar coil of your abdomen and toji just holds you closer, intoxicated with the moment that he wants it to last. “gonna—”

your eyes are blown wide when toji secretly reaches down to press a thumb into your clit, drawing lazy circles. that’s enough for your orgasm to come crashing down on you, pussy clenching hard on the other.

“daddy— oh my god!” toji still continues to rail into you, whimpers of his name spurring him on until you’re moaning out again as his cock spurts his cum deep in your cunt, filling you with his load until it spills out.

toji immediately drops down and starts to lap at your clit, a first class seat to his cum leaking from your pussy, laughing when you hardly care about it staining the sofa, too cockdrunk to care about reprimanding him.

“so pliant,” toji uses a finger to push his cum into you, “maybe i should get you like this more often, heh.”

#jujutsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu kaisen headcanons #jujutsu kaisen smut #jujutsu kaisen x you #jujutsu kaisen toji #fushiguro toji smut #fushiguro toji x reader #toji smut #toji x reader #jjk headcanons #jjk x reader #toji x you #toji fushiguro smut #jjk toji #toji fushiguro #fushiguro toji x you #jjk scenarios #jjk smut #jjk drabbles

[shhuuga]

ik I just sent an ask but babe my mind is filthy.

christopher NOT BANG CHAN. I REPEAT: CHRISTOPHER NOT BANG CHAN (yes there is a difference) who loves when reader sucks on his balls. it’s his favorite part of getting head, watching his girlfriend with his balls draggin across her face, sucking on them while stroking his fat dick to the GODS. idk if this is doing tm… but imagine putting his balls in your pussy??? AM I DTM??? lemme know cause idek why that shit turns me on so damn bad. he’s just too sexy bruh

(woooo GIRL!!! have me sitting in my bed GIGGLING. BITING MY NAILS. BIIITCH YOUR SO DIRTAAAY!!! /POS)

don't stop (pop that cat)

warnings: cussin (do i even need to warn atp), head (male receiving), ft. 4am kiman bc it's my brand atp, cum play(?), cum eating, sweetheart reader cuz she just wants to make chris happy, blond chan in this bc WE NEED HIM BACK!!!

"oh that's- that's it, baby.. just keep sucking my fucking balls like that, princess." chris throws his head back as he groans— fuck, you get better every fucking time.

wherever it is, in the back of his car, in your bedroom or in the bathroom of some club.. you always remember his favorite part of head. it's really the only reason he asks you, so he can feel his heavy balls in your mouth, watching you switch between one and the other, or struggling to fit them both in.

"oh, baby..that's so fuckin'- shiiiiiit." chris' legs start shaking as your fingers curl tighter around his dick, the slick sounds of your spit and his pre sliding up and down his cock making your pussy clench.

"baby, wait.. lay back. let me- shit.. look at how wet you are." it never phases you because you know the reason, the only reason is him. but chris, he could cum just looking at your beautiful thighs all spread for him, with your slick dripping all over your lower body.

with a lil (pop!), chris slips his balls into you, the thickness of them making you whimper out. obviously, it's not enough for you to cum, but apparently it's just enough for chis to. well, that is after you tightened up around him because of his groans.

"'m sorry, im so sorry baby.. oh fuuck- your pussy 's just too- too perfect.. so fuckin warm.." the blond reaches down to circle his fingers on your clit as he pulls his balls out and slips his still hard dick into you.

(note to self, look into c+b torture videos)

#skz x reader #changbin x reader #bangchan x reader #hyunjin x reader #lee know x reader #skz x y/n #skz x black reader #skz fanfic #stray kids bangchan #bang chan x reader #chris bang #christopher bang #bang chan imagine #bangchan smut #bang chan fanfic #bang chan hard hours #bang chan imagines #💌 m41lb0x 4 u #🍬.shhuuga #🍬.txt

[billskeis]

hear me out hear me out

playfully teasing bill by putting your cold hands under his shirt AHHHHHH

ᡣ𐭩 under the shirt action w bill

okay so imagine you as part of tokio hotel’s management staff or a close friend of one of the members.

either way, whatever you had to do involved you to be outside for majority of the day and at this point you had to go back inside to the studio because the pockets of your sweater were NOT cutting it.

as you shut the door behind you, the only thing or person that welcomed you was the six-foot rockstar that you had a crush on. it was none other than the bill kaulitz, who has his back completely turned to face you.

completely, and utterly vulnerable ;).

now was your chance to attack! sneaking up behind him with quiet steps, you snaked your arms around bill’s slim waist, engulfing him completely in your grasp as the taller figure yelped.

“ah! y-y/n!?”

“hi bill :D!

“back so soon??”

“mmhm! couldn’t stand the cold anymore so i had to come back inside..”

bill just hummed in response, going back to whatever he was doing. you assumed he was just scrolling over social media on his phone about the latest gossip and trends, after have peaking over his shoulder.

you wanted and craved his attention, for a while now you and bill have kinds built up this tension that surprisingly and thankfully nobody has caught onto yet.

so, you slipped your hands under bill’s shirt, as you stroked the skin of his long torso.

“o-oh! y/n, s’cold..” he moaned.

“f-fuck..”

“still cold?” you ask followed by a giggle.

you have one hand working up and down the length of his cock and the opposite pinching the bud that hid under his t-shirt.

you stood behind bill, despite being shorter than him, you could still easily access all his assets.

occasionally, you would pretend to fuck bill, humping your hips into his butt resulting in him getting all shy and bashful, face a beet red.

“ngh.. n-no.. shit, y/n.. someone could come in—any s-second now,”

you swirl your hand over the tip of bill’s cock and it leads to him jerking his head back, leaning it on your shoulder “ooh..!” peaking over his, you get a better glimpse of the sight, his cock is pretty and pink, glistening from all the pre-cum you masturbated over his length.

“watcha gettin all shy for?? been moaning like a bitch in heat for a couple of minutes,”

“h-hahh.. y/nnn stawwp.. ‘m gonna cum..”

it’s time to work, pinching his nipple even harder with a slight twist, jerking his cock off at a more quick pace, a loud wet squelching noise accompanied by it.

bill grabs your hand that jerks him off to still your movements but you’re too strong for him. how? don’t fucking ask why it’s for plot reasons.

at this point, he feels to good from the stimulation that he lets you do him as you please, letting it all out with a wanton moan.

“ja.. oh fuck y/n.. keep going..”

“awwww how precious, just a second ago you wanted me to stop, such a good boy..” you coo at bill.

“mmmnn, i feel achy, feel s’warm.. feel s’good..”

“hey bill! we’re back—oh y/n! you’re here early!”

“hi tom!”

“bill?? you okay??”

“y-yeah.. m’fine..”

tom contorted his face in confusion. his brother was fine just an hour ago and wasn’t really doing anything before him gustav and georg left so why was he acting all weird now?

georg and gustav seemed to not have cared as they immediately head to a different room, you were washing something off your hands while bill stood there awkwardly beside you.

hopefully tom doesn’t notice bill’s flushed cheeks and that the fly of his jeans were open.

a/n : im sorry i made this so filthy i cant write fluff for the life of me :c

#tokio hotel #tokio hotel x y/n #tokio hotel x you #tokio hotel x reader #tokio hotel smut #bill kaulitz #bill kaulitz x y/n #bill kaulitz x you #bill kaulitz x reader #bill kaulitz smut #2000s #fyp #billskeis

[harryistheonlyoneforme]

Can we get like filthy filthy filthy FILTHY Harry thigh riding smut with like reader choking on his fingers with drool all on her chin and face and Harry humiliating her and than taking a picture of her wrecked so he can look at it when he’s away at the studio….im a slut and am obsessed with your writings 🙏

warnings: daddy kink, dumbification, degradation and praise mix, thigh riding, spitting ig, finger sucking, start of unprotected sex

~

“If you’re so fucking desperate then get off on my thigh,” Harry demands, fed up with his girlfriend and yanking her up from his lap just to place his thigh between hers. She whines at him with teary, glossy eyes, her bare ass still stinging from the punishment she’s just received. “Since you couldn’t wait and decided to try and sneak and touch yourself, use my thigh to get off,” he tells her, and she’s torn between embarrassment and arousal as she places her hands on his shoulders for leverage and begins to slowly rock her hips down against the thick muscle.

“‘m sorry, I didn’t mean to,” she tries to reason with him, but he’s not having it. He’s barely listening to her as he reaches up to pull at the bars that run through her nipples; the things that make her extra sensitive at times like this. The slight sting balanced with pleasure that his touch brings gives her the encouragement she needs and she’s beginning to really get into it.

“You mean to tell me you didn’t mean to touch yourself? Are you really that desperate that you couldn’t wait for me to take care of you?” he questions her, a playful lilt to his tone as he knows it’ll rile her up.

She just sobs at his accusations, her stomach clenching already to signal her orgasm. She tries to slow down and hold it off but he just places a hand on her hips and keeps her moving, letting her go once she’s moving at her own accord.

“Fuckin’ pathetic,” he spits, shaking his head at her as he feels her hips stutter and her legs get weaker, her hands gripping onto his shoulders even tighter. Her moans are soft and whiny as she chases her orgasm, but of course Harry isn’t going to make it that easy. “Open,” he commands, and in her daze she almost doesn’t realize he’s spoken to her, not until he’s gripping her chin tightly and making her face him. She opens her mouth instantly as her brain comprehends his words, but it’s not good enough.

“Cmon, angel. You can go a little wider f’me,” he coos, tapping his thumb against her bottom lip. She immediately complied and opens even wider, Harry taking the opportunity to place his index and middle finger into her mouth until his rings meet her lips. “That’s it, such a good girl.”

She mewls at the praise and immediately begins to act on instinct, running her tongue all over his fingers and soaking them before bobbing her head and choking herself on them as she would his cock. For a moment he just sits there and watches her, observing how she’s fucking ruining herself on just his fingers. Spit has begun to make its way down her face and neck but she either doesn’t care or doesn’t notice, still bobbing her head on his fingers and making the most obscene sounds. “Fuck, y’just showing out tonight, hm?” he grunts, feeling his cock stir in his boxers. “Such a dumb little baby, look at you treating my fingers like it’s my cock. ‘s all you’re good for, huh?” he degrades, not missing the way her whimpers become more frequent, a telltale sign that she’d be cumming any moment.

She knows better than to cum without permission but she doesn’t want to lose what she’s just worked so hard for, so she begins to speak around his fingers without stopping her hips. The words come out warbled around his fingers but he can definitely still understand them. He won’t let her know that though.

“What was that? Are you really that cockdrunk you can’t even get words out?” he spits, still as condescending as ever, flexing his thigh beneath her to make speaking even harder for her. “Guess you really are a dumb little baby. Need Daddy to do everything,” he scoffs, but he knows she’s trying hard so he takes his fingers from her mouth and moves both hands to her hips, helping her move along his thigh once again.

“Daddy, please,” she forces out as best she can, her voice even whinier because she knows she won’t be able to hold off much longer.

A hum leaves his mouth. “Please, what, baby? Use all y’words or I’ll make y’stop right now,” it’s his last warning before he loses all patience, she can tell by how firm he’s gotten.

“P-please, can I cum? So close, can’t hold it,” she sobs, her head falling forward onto his shoulder before she’s nuzzling her face there, her hips still bucking furiously against him. She really does look pathetic on top of him, her hips moving at their own accord, her pussy soaking him.

“Since y’need it so bad, go on then. You can do it,” the moment he gives her permission she’s cumming with a shout, her hips moving erratically against his thigh as tremors begin to wrack her body. “That’s it, making such a mess for Daddy, hmm?” he coos, moving to rub a hand up and down her back while she rides it out. She just collapses against him when she’s finally finished, but he isn’t.

While she’s still shaking he lifts her from his thigh and lies her down on the coffee table in front of him, quickly swiping his phone from the cushion next to him. Her mewls can be heard as he opens his camera and presses record, the flash light illuminating her ruined pussy. He runs a ringed finger through her dripping folds with his free hand before dipping it inside, earning him a jerk and a whine from YN. Pulling it back out, he makes sure the camera picks up how drenched his finger is from her, arousal coating that one and even the ones around it.

He can’t record any longer, tossing the phone to the side without even ending the video before he’s freeing his cock and using his arousal to stroke himself for a moment. YN has now sat up on her elbows and is watching him in anticipation, her belly beginning to burn with arousal once again.

Moving closer to her, Harry spits down onto where she’s already ruined for him and rubs it in to make her even messier before lining his cock up and sinking into her warmth with one smooth thrust.

~

#harryistheonlyoneforme #harry styles fic #harry styles fic rec #harry styles smut #smut #harry styles #harry styles filth #harry related writings #dbf harry styles #dbf harry

[claymorexpunisher]

I'll Shut You Up (18 + Fic) (Ch. 1/?)

Pairing(s): Rhea Ripley/Fem. Reader

Disclaimer: This is NSFW. If that's not your thing, keep scrolling. I try to tag my work appropriately and if you still choose to click and read, do so at your own discretion. Also, this particular fic is pretty much dubious consent. ALWAYS make sure to discuss everything prior to engaging in ANY kinks… Thank you for the love always and I hope you enjoy!

Summary: It’s pretty well known that Rhea and Fem. Reader can’t stand one another. Reader thinks Rhea’s way cockier than she should be and Rhea thinks as highly about Reader as much as she thinks about the dirt at the bottom of her boot. Well… so they say, at least. A packed hotel mishap forces them to bunk together, and Rhea presses her luck by running her mouth.

Fic Tag(s): 18+, enemies to hatefucking, forced proximity, overbooked hotel, WM weekend, Bottom Sub!Rhea, Dom Top!Reader, bratty!Rhea, a little bit of oral (Rhea receiving) anal play/penetration, size difference, strap-on, nipple play, hair-pulling, spit for lube (I KNOWWW IM SORRY), begging, spanking, biting, slapping, choking.)

Chapter Word Count: 584

“Is it my card or are there no more rooms left?” I asked the lady at the front desk who already seemed just as stressed and exhausted as I was.

“I’m so sorry, ma’am.” She apologized as she nodded. “But it seems that there was a bit of a mishap when your reservation was made. Due to the wrestling events taking place over the weekend, we’re completely booked. And because of that it seems that your room was accidentally double booked through an error in our system. I’m so sorry, ma'am.” She said.

A deep frown creased her brow before she smiled, and she offered me a discount voucher for my room and for anything that I wanted from room service.

I kindly rejected the offer but asked, “Am I at least rooming with another wrestler?”

When she confirmed that I was, I breathed a little bit in relief as we wrapped things up and I received my room key- I was on the 3rd floor.

I wasn’t besties with the entire locker room, but least I wouldn’t be stuck with a complete stranger.

Although, there were definitely some people in the locker room that I would always avoid like the plague if I could help it.

Rhea Ripley was number one on that list…

We never could stand each other for reasons unbeknownst to the rest of the locker room.

Where I was avoidant, Rhea was insufferable, always making it a point to take jabs at me whenever she could, be it online or face-to-face.

Made me feel like I was an insignificant little bug that she could squash in .2 seconds.

She acted like she was hot shit, and she knew it.

Which physically, that may be true.

But she quickly learned that I didn’t take well to attempts at intimidation.

But lately, she’d switched gears and began flirting with me, heavily, and then we’d be back to insulting each other.

She claimed it was just for shits and giggles and because she enjoyed how “flustered” it would get me, which… ew.

It only got me “flustered” because they were cheap insults- mostly about my small height and the sexual inexperience she assumed I had.

I told myself that she was as tolerable as a canker sore- even though I could admit that on a certain level, our back and forth excited me.

…. And actually, sometimes, in the deep, dark recesses of my filthy mind, I didn’t know if I wanted to slap her or… or if I wanted to slap her and then teach her a very valuable lesson.

Bend her over.

Dominate her.

Make her ass glow red with my handprints etched onto them like the tattoos on her body and her blue eyes as glassy as a porcelain doll’s…

And that just made me despise her even more.

How dare she awaken any kind of desire in me when she was such a raging brat?

Then again, I could that admit brats could be really fucking fun.

But she… she got under my skin in ways I wasn’t prepared for.

“Just please don’t let it be Rhea fucking Rip-…” I mumbled to myself as I slid the keycard into the door as soon as I found my room.

My words trailed off and I let out a “Absolutely fucking not.” as soon as I walked further into the room, and I laid my eyes on the smirking-and almost naked- figure lounging in the king-sized bed in front of me...

Next Chapter

@theworldofotps @alyyaanna @southerngirl41 @harmshake @mzv11 @letsgivethisonemoreshot @theundertakeriscoming @slutfortheeclaymore @auraravenora77 @niknakattack @moonwolfdemonprincess21 @babiidee28 @thesamoanqueen @omegasshyghuleh6661ghosts @xndalynch @84reedsy @romanstheory @kianaleani @elefrog25-blog @motherknuckers @phantasmacabre @lxndonorris @girlnred @yo-yo89 @smile1318 @sassginaswanmills @exhaustedclown @aritannahrocks1300 @superlove167 @ayeeitsali @queencherryberry @truefant4sy @codyswhitebelt @blackmeetsworld @salirophiliac @kayfabebabe @rhea-the-eradicator @souleatermia @bittersweetastoria @domripley @wrestlingprincess80 @myluvrrhea @wandering-fox

#rhea ripley #rhea ripley x reader #rhea ripley x fem reader #wwe fic #wwe smut #wwe fan fiction #rhea ripley smut #rhea ripley fan fiction #\

[futureplayboibunnie]

Strong Enough

Miguel O’Hara x fem!reader

18+ MDNI (y’all pls this is filthy)

- GIGGLING. KICKING MY FEET. i came back from spiderverse with JUST THIS MAN ON MY MIND. oscar isaac ur service is appreciated cause gah dayum.

- i had to write some super angsty smut abt him. i just had to, he’s so lana del rey vinylllll. i’m sorry if my spanish is crap (i had to use google translate bc my stupid ass took german instead of spanish in school- pls tell me if there were any mistakes. kiss kiss x)

warnings: dom!miguel, pnv, lotsa dirty talk (think i got carried away), angsty miguel, FANGS, sort of a soft end. AGGHH IM SO CRAZY ABOUT HIM WHAT THE FUCK.

enjoy bbygirls x

Miguel was furious as usual, his blood was beating like a drum with it, his mind buzzing akin to white noise. New anomalies, new foes but mostly a pesky kid who didn't know how to stay put and shut the fuck up- Miles Morales. He was seething- his eyes glowing a crimson hue violently assaulting against the hazel of his eyes. He looked like shit. Hell, he felt like shit. He was slipping, letting things get in the way, and he blamed you for it. Miguel doesn't slip. Miguel doesn't let things get in the way. Only until you came into his life and veered him off his intended course.

It was his hegemonic masculinity piping up like a hot breath down his neck. Miguel brought together the spider society- he was the solution to every problem, every anomaly, the answer to every spider. But he doesn't answer to himself. No, he didn't. You were the one that was overseeing Miguel's little society, hiding and checking in from time to time if the multiverse wasn't fucked up and every dimension was in a semi-stable state. Miguel was in control of the other spiders, he had to run his orders by you first even if you weren't at HQ half of the time. Being in a subservient position was exorbitantly and intensely frustrating and it made him highly hostile to anyone who talked to him.

You on the other hand had the jurisdiction to give him the authority- you gave him the damn idea, you were from his damn universe, but you couldn't deal with the politics and moral dilemmas that came with leading it. Also, you enjoyed toying with him. Fuck you found so much satisfaction in crawling through him, blowing at that over-inflated ego, those broad shoulders filled to the brim with hubris and pride. Hm, he was good at what he did though- actively scaring off anyone who dared speak against him. Except for Morales. You appreciated his pluck, it reminded you of yourself. Miguel was formidable but you understood why he needed to apprehend Morales- for some reason every time you were near the kid you started glitching out, it fucking hurt and messed with your brainwaves. You understood why he had to capture Miles but you didn't agree with how he was handling it. Miguel was sitting at his desk trying to figure out why this was happening and why this was happening to you but he came up empty. He didn't know what to think about it let alone do. It made him feel uneasy and he hated it. Cómo pedo solucionar esto? (How do I fix this?) kept looping throughout his head and it made him feel helpless and weak. Two words he would never associate with himself.

‘’Miguel.’’ Your voice echoed off the walls and shot straight to his ears, it was smoky and breathy.

"Y/N. Qué estás haciendo aquí? What do you want?’’ His usual low timbre makes your brows furrow involuntarily. ‘’Get out of the shadows.’’ He ordered and for once you listened to him, hopping on his platform behind him.

‘’Morales.’’ You stated deadpan knowing the reaction he was going to get, Miguel's eyes drastically narrowed and changed from a soft ambient scarlet to a scorching blood red. He turned his face a little to the side to glare at you.

"That kid touches anything in another dimension, I'll kill him myself.’’ He replied huskily. You weren't sure if you could trust his words. Yes, he was capable of it but you know deep down he wouldn't want to.

His moral compass strayed once, he won't let that happen again. Never.

"You wanna kill kids now? Is that how low we're going?'’

'We? There's we now?’’

You cocked your head at his question, your face remaining hard.

He stared at you in silent fury, of course he wouldn't want to resort to that but he had to do what he had to do. Miguel was surprised you didn't want to take him yourself considering he makes you glitch out. He hates you, God he hates you. But what happened to you...scared him. You'd been a part of this for so long, if anyone was going to hurt you it would be him- not anyone else. If anyone else did- Miguel dismissed the thought as quickly as it came.

Sometimes when he looked at you, he couldn't help but admire your callousness, your brutality yet your undying generosity to people who didn't deserve such a royalty. On the other hand, you were fucking gorgeous. He hated it. It was distracting. It was cruel. Though he couldn't help a little blip or mishap with his thought process- he was still a man after all. Miguel wondered what was under that suit. Wondered what you would like with nothing on at all. Wondered if you would still talk back with that snotty little attitude if you were choking on his dick instead. Though he wouldn't trust you not to bite his dick off in the process. Would you like his fangs? Would you like his claws? He shouldn’t be thinking such a thing.

‘’I should ask you the same question since he affects your stability también.’’ He replied calmly, slightly shocking you. ‘’No matter, I'll stop it. Alone.’’ He growled as he stepped off the platform, tired of entertaining this conversation with you. ‘’You've done enough damage as it is, now I have to fix it.’’

‘’I caused this damage? You realize how fucking stupid you sound. You control the spiders, I let you make orders.’’ You strike a harsh tone as you jolted in front of him to stop his path. Shit, he towered above you, all broad shoulders and disheveled hair. Although he undermined you like this, you wouldn't mind it in other situations...but at work, he was quite literally a piece of work and it made your blood boil. You both knew, you both could feel the palpable hatred swinging and beating again. ‘’And alone? I don't trust you not to kill him, Miguel.’’ You scowled, your eyes wide and piercing through him, halting him in his tracks. The gaze shared between you both was impenetrable, scorching, a battle against wills.

‘’I can't let you.’’ He shot back with a frown and grating red eyes.

‘’While I watch helplessly from the sidelines? I don’t think so. ’’ You challenged him white cold.

‘’I'm asking you, don't let me make you.’’ He gritted through clenched teeth, his fangs lightly protruding.

He was trying to scare you, it wasn't working.

‘’What is this to you? Playtime? To prove you're the strongest, to create fear wherever you go?’’ You pleaded with him orotund, inviting a yelling match to prove you weren't going down easy on this occasion.

You let Miguel do whatever he damn pleased like this was his own hunting grounds- but you won't let him lose his sanity.

‘’What? No.’’He replied shocked and confused at your presumed reasons why he was doing this. He just had to. He couldn't tell you the deep-rooted reason.

He didn't want to admit it.

Fuck, he couldn't admit it.

What kind of man would that make him?

What kind of leader? What kind of example would he be?

‘’Then what is it-?’’ He was trying to walk away from you but you snaggled onto his suit and brought him back to face you. ‘’Tell me.’’ You ordered stiffly.

‘’I have to do this alone.’’ His voice faltered a little and he was afraid that you might have heard it, that he gave you a glaring view of how quickly he was slipping through the cracks- how weak you've made him, how weak he was becoming.

‘’Why? Why do you need to, Miguel?!’’ You were almost yelling at him and no one other than you would get the privilege of living if they did that.

‘’Stop it.’’ He grunted like a wild animal.

"Then what-? What is it?’’ Your eyes searched for his as he was avoiding looking at your face, terrified that it would be written all over it. His heart was pounding.

‘’I'm not-‘’

‘’Not what?’’ You implored, pushing him further and further to the edge.

‘’I'm not strong enough.’’

‘'Strong enough? Oh yeah, and going after a kid will make you stronger.’’ You chided, eyes stiff cold, and judgemental.

‘’Yes, fuck. I-. No!’’ Miguel raked an exasperated hand through his hair, his palm was twitching and his talons were ready to come out. If only he could make you understand without telling you- but you were insatiable, a tick under his skin. Ready for another fucking fight.

Your eyebrows wilted as you said the words, so unbelievably paralyzed by his gall, his hubris, his never-ending need to prove he's the strongest, that he could do all of this. You knew he fucking could. ‘’That's what this is, some sort of bench press exercise for you? Some sort of work-out?!’’ Miguel grabbed you by the arms and his talons pinched at your skin through his suit, like he was trying to shake some sense into you.

‘’I can't lose you again!’’ He yelled at you, his face merely inches away from yours.

Your mouth popped open at his frazzled admission of honesty, his glowing red eyes faded as he stared at you, hoping for an answer he was sure you wouldn't give him. Miguel's harsh expression was lost with the wind when he hung his head to avoid that fucking look in your eyes. The one that made all the weight of the world he carried on his shoulders all the more fucking heavier, his hands raked down your arms as if he was soothing himself, and his breath became heavier as he closed his eyes to process the words he uttered. You glitching out every time Miles was near you is not an option he was willing to entertain: it was his job to worry about anomalies and canon events but on this occasion- he didn't. And he was admitting that to you.

It's not the fact that he's dangerous or an anomaly. It's because of you.

What kind of selfish would that make him?

Last time that happened he lost everything.

He would never make the same mistake again.

But look at him now.

Making the same mistake.

‘’I can't lose you. No otra vez....I'm not str-I'm not strong enough.’’ His head hung low as if the weight of the universe was saving him from completely falling apart.

You sighed in a mix of relief and pity. This is what it was all about? Pobre cosa (poor thing). Your eyes were wide with a magnetic pulse and your body was radiating a mesmeric need. He felt it. Your hands flew to his chest and slowly meandered to his broad shoulders, he was panting in exhaustion and regret but your fingers went to his chin and jutted it upwards so your longing stare could meet his. It was a scorching look between two tired and exhausted people. Miguel was working himself so hard and you just wanted to make him forget about it, just once.

‘’Miguel…’’

‘’Ahora me he dado cuenta de que no puedo hacer nada de esto sin ti.’’ (I've now come to realize that I can't do any of this without you). Miguel's eyes flitted to your lips, his voice low and husky...needy. ‘’But I'm a selfish man... y te necesito.’’ (and I need you). Your face looked blank, it's obvious you didn't understand a word he was saying. ‘’Whatever, you wouldn't understand what I'm saying anyway.’’ Miguel dismissed you as he let go of your embrace and attempted to head out.

Before he could move away too far, you exposed your wrist and webbed him, dragging him back to you. His eyes glinted with a surprise yet they were dark with need and arrogance. Miguel was in front of you and your pussy started throbbing. His senses went into overdrive and he couldn't hold back his will to not touch you anymore.

‘'He entendido cada palabra que me has dicho.’’ (I've understood every word you've ever said to me.)

He gripped your face and kissed you hard, it was furious and mean, and he tasted dangerous- just as you expected, just as you had been silently begging him to. Lord, you were sure you'd regret this but right now your body was alive. Miguel's massive hands pulled at your hair to open your mouth wider

'’Miguel...féllame, por favor.’’ (fuck me, please) you uttered breathlessly, his mouth traveling from your bottom lip, chin, and then neck. His lips then went to breathe raggedly in your ear.

‘’You've understood everything I've ever said under my breath about you?’’ He murmured, imploring you to make him understand. He thought he had the privilege of saying things secretly as no one understood his Spanish but him, so he could say things he didn't want to keep inside without anyone else knowing. But you pulled the rug out from under him, you've been fooling him. He hated it. The number of times he's mumbled how much he wanted you under his breath- fuck.

‘’Mhm.’’ You moaned as his hands flew to your hips and slammed you down on his desk with no finesse, planting himself between your soft thighs. ‘’I thought you would've caught me earlier than this chico.’’ You teased- the thought made him angry. His talons seeped out of his skin and ripped at your suit, exposing the bare skin of your waist.

‘’Y me he dado cuenta de lo mojada que te pones cuando estás cerca de mí.’’ (And I've noticed how wet you get when you're near me) The filthy words rolled off of his tongue like velvet. ‘’Don't think you have the upper hand here sweetheart.’’

‘’Even when I want you to fuck me, you still have to fucking argue with me.’’ You growled as your hands burrowed into his long raven hair

‘’Oh, but you like it this way.’’ He smirked in your ear, the cadence of his voice reducing your knees to that of fucking jelly.

"How do you know what I like? You never asked.’’ You flirted back, treading on dangerous waters with the man that is known for having paper-thin patience.

‘’Shut the fuck up.’’ Miguel clawed at your waist and then spun you around so the tops of your thighs were. digging into the translucent glass of his desk. All of a sudden, he placed his large palm just below your neck and shoved you flat onto the desk just with brute force. You were sure you were about to start salivating.

‘’Oh, mierda.’’ He breathed raggedly, his wandering hands ripping at your suit. ‘’Beautiful, dangerous, deadly. Pretending as if you're better than me... like you're not capable of killing.’’ He ripped at your suit some more, exposing more of your skin. Your breath trembled in anticipation as he bent down to whisper hotly in your ear, your ass already feeling his strong- oh. Shit. ‘’You drive my fucking crazy, you know that?’’ He ripped your suit until it was nothing but scraps. You were naked and desperate under him.

‘’Me vuelves loco.’’ (You make me insane).

‘’Stop fucking talking and just take me, Miguel.’’ You whined desperately as your cheek pressed coldly against the glass, your hair splaying all over your shoulders like a waterfall.

‘’Abre la boca.’’ (Open your mouth) He growled like an animal but you were too concerned with your wobbly legs and fraying patience, you replied with a stunned silence, almost jittering like a fool. A frown contorted on Miguel's perfect face, scrunching up his chiseled, picturesque features. His right hand gripped your hair pulling you up to him, his left hand brushed against your lips until he fully force-plunged two fingers in your mouth- saliva coating his fingers as you gagged and choked. Oh, he couldn't wait to get you on your knees- the thought provoked some visceral reaction within him.

‘’'That's it, good girl.’’ He grumbled the affirmation and it sent sparks shooting throughout your body.

Miguel rarely ever praised or complimented so this....fuck. ...this was different, you felt so damn special to him. The ever-so-broody Miguel O'Hara calling you a 'good girl' made an unstoppable moan rip through your throat. ‘’Oh, so you like to be loud? Seems like you can't shut up when you're getting fucked too.’’ He insulted adding insult to injury which just made you sweat.

‘’Is the venom from your fangs rushing straight to your head, Miguel? Or did you not hear what I said?’’ You spat with a distinct sharpness that he'd come to expect from you, he was glad to see he hadn't scared the personality out of you which he had the tendency to do to every single person he met. However, one thing he absolutely couldn't tolerate was backtalking- which you had a tendency to get away with most times but he thought this was the perfect situation to reinstate his rules. Miguel tugged on your hair again like his own personal leash.

‘’Puede que quiera joderte ahora mismo, pero no pienses ni por un segundo que no te haré sufrir en el proceso.’’ (I may want to fuck the shit out of you right now but don't think for a second that I won't make you suffer in the process) His voice was aggressive and heady and you were stiff with arousal, your pussy was aching for him.

‘’Por favor Miguel.’’ You begged softly and it made his gaze narrow and his fangs spike out of his gums.

At times like this, he was glad he had a suit that would come on and off as he pleased- right now he was sweating with need and he was thankful he was able to quickly rid of his suit. Miguel didn't think he would be this hard, but then again you did always have a knack for surprising him when he least expected it. His large palm smacked at your ass and he was happy to see a large indent of the outline he made. Like he had a claim on you.

‘’Miguel!’’ You whined like a bitch in heat.

He didn't listen to your plead, he didn't even tease you into it first, his rigid dick just slipped into your soaking wet heat and he'd never felt this pleasure...ever. You were seriously about to cry. He wanted you to. Your pussy molded around his dick, and you were afraid he wasn't even going to fit- but Miguel always finds a way. He felt so...fucking good. The dull ache inside of your stomach was twisting into a fit of knots and butterflies, he quite literally pulsated inside of you

"Tan apretado cariño.’’ (So tight sweetheart) Miguel's chest rumbled alongside his dirty words. Fucking hell, it was like you were vacuum sealed to his dick. He started rutting into you with abandon, without mercy.

You felt so good. He was so.. good...at this, as much as you hated to admit it. He kept pawing at your body, his talons creating the animalistic tension that much heavier between you.

‘’Mi vida...’’ He purred in your ear, going harder and faster with every pained moan that ripped through your throat like it was an incentive for him to keep going.

‘’So perfect for me. Squeezing me so well...Mierda.’’

‘’You want me?’’ You teased innocently as you twisted your head to look at him through doe eyes. His eyes were roaring red as his grip on your hips seeped into your skin harder.

‘’You know I do.’’ Miguel gritted through clenched teeth, baring his fangs. The sight just made you wetter. ‘’Let me show you how much.’’ He bent down and it felt like he was going to snap you in half, you were so close to reaching your peak. To add insult to injury, he bit down on the skin of your bare shoulder blade and blood dripped from his fangs when he pulled away- your moan in response was that of perfection. Fuck it hurt but it felt amazing.

‘’It's okay, mi vida, come for me. I won't tell.’’ Miguel cooed, showing a tender side to him as he kissed down your shoulder blade to your back. You obeyed his command and came onto him- violently, so fucking hard. A guttural groan rumbled from his chest and your honeyed pants brought him back to life- a cause and effect. He fucked you through your orgasm and allowed himself the privilege of finishing inside you.

Miguel pulled out of you, leaking against the back of your thigh in the process. The scene was filthy, completely obscene and you never thought this would actually happen. ‘’Stay still princesa.’’ He commanded and you actually listened to him. The pressure of Miguel's body left you exposed as your ears pricked up to hear a rustle of draws and a clattering of things behind you. You turned your head around and his hologram suit was back on, it hugged him so fucking tightly your knees were starting to shake again.

You felt his presence again as you felt a cloth clean up the leaks down your thighs. ‘’Muchas gracias, Miguel.’’ Smartass. You flirted and he just smirked back at you, helping you stand up straight and face him when he got you cleaned up. You gazed up at him, quite chipper if you were being completely honest. Maybe a good hard fucking from his was all you needed to straighten you out. His eyes were still greedy as they raked up and down your naked body.

‘’As much as I prefer you like this...here.’’ A hologram covered you and your suit was back on, fine lines and all- well, that's easier than what you have to go through every day to get it sitting nicely.

You gazed at the scraps of your suit that were on the floor. Jesus Christ, he fucked like an animal.

"Nice to know chivalry isn't dead.' You tiptoed so you could get closer to his face and kissed his cheek. ‘’Thanks for the fuck, Miguel. Also by the way, I'm still not letting you kill that kid.’’ You patted his shoulder sarcastically- toying with him even further. You just walked away from him and his platform, you left him in a stunned silence and a blank expression, he scoffed breathlessly as he turned around to see you saunter away so damn confidently.

‘’Princesa no tan rapida.’’ (Not so fast princess) He replied back with a broken half smile. He suddenly exposed his wrist and a web flew to your waist and he instantaneously pulled you back in front of him. The breathless expression on your face was something that needed to be showcased in galleries.

‘’Can't lose me again? Object permanence is a thing you know torombolo.’’ You joked and his brows furrowed slightly in response, his arms wrapped tightly around you.

‘’Don't joke about that mi vida.’’ Miguel's face had a sheen of concern and it made your stomach twist into butterflies. ‘’You could die.’’ His voice came across as more stern than intended but you didn't back away like anyone else would do- you accepted him for who he was.

‘’Oh, Miguel...Please, we'll figure it out. But that kid you're after is probably scared and alone- just like you were, just like I was and I don't want that to swallow him.’’

‘’But every time-‘’ You pressed your pointer finger to stop his lips from moving.

"Shush. I've always trusted you, Miguel, now I don't even think there's a point in me being your higher-up. If we work together, you don't have to be afraid.’’ You caressed his face tenderly and he got lost in the softness of your words and your ever so guileless eyes.

‘’Okay?’’ Miguel turned his head to kiss at your palm as an affirmation.

‘’Okay.’’

#miguel ohara #miguel o’hara #spiderman 2099 #spiderman #miguel ohara smut #across the spiderverse #across the spider verse spoilers #miguel spiderverse #miguel o’hara smut #atsv miguel #miguel o’hara angst #spiderverse x reader #spiderman into the spiderverse

[greenishghostey]

The Gang's All Here

Pairing: Eddie Munson x fem!reader

Summary: Your friends had told you on several occasions that still having stuffed animals on your bed at twenty years old would be a boner killer for your boyfriend. Luckily, your boyfriend made up elves and orcs on the regular. Some stuffed animals weren't gonna scare him off so easily.

Word Count: 4,979 (2,200 of this is the smut, im sorry)

Warnings: 18+ content MDNI, graphic smut, p in v, protected sex, face sitting/riding, enthusiastic pussy eating, fluffy smut, sort of sub!Eddie, extensive dirty talk, this guy cannot shut up ever, established relationship, enthusiastic consent (everyone's having a grand ol' time), a lot of affection, the stuffed animals don't watch, I think that's all please let me know if I missed anything!

Author's Note: Hi everyone, I wrote fluffy filthy again! This came from me seeing one of those Eddie + text post pictures saying, "she let me hit because I was polite to her squishmallows". That is why this exists. Please enjoy because this was so much fun to write! Also, I know that this definitely isn't an original idea, I think I've read fics similar to this but can't think of the exact ones right now. But, I know they're out there. DO NOT REPOST OR EDIT MY WORK

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Being 20 years old and still living with your parents in the sleepy town of Hawkins wasn’t anything to sniff at. Some people have to work a little after high school before packing up and moving anywhere else. It also helped that you had a boyfriend who was on his third try at senior year. He was a pretty cool reason to stick around your dull hometown. Eddie made it all a bit more colourful. 

You and Eddie had been dating for a few months. You had been friendly in high school, but then he started flirting with you when he came into the grocery store. Eddie was a smooth talker when he wanted to be, and it had worked on you. He had knocked over a candy bar rack at your register but also had cleaned it all up. The sweetheart that he was.

Your relationship was great. It was adorable. It was intimate. It was healthy. You guys were best friends and told each other every little thing, regardless of how insignificant it may seem. Eddie told you about his passion for writing and about his family. You told him about your future plans beyond Hawkins - him hopefully being included - and your past and present knitting projects. He wanted a burgundy hat and scarf set for his birthday. A bobble hat was preferred - he wasn’t sure if those were hard to make, so he wasn’t too picky. 

However, there was one thing that you had kept from Eddie. You had worked pretty hard to hide away this tiny part of yourself whenever he came to your house. Shoving the incriminating objects into a box at the back of your closet, even though it pained you to do so. 

It was embarrassing to be 20 years old and still have a beloved little group of stuffed animals perched on your bed. Well, that’s what your friends had told you anyway. No guy would want to fuck a girl while a fluffy lizard, Reggie, from the Indianapolis zoo, is staring at him. 

In addition to little Reg, there were three others. Woolia, a fleecy sheep that you got on your third birthday. Jules, a light blue dolphin with big shiny eyes. Finally, there was Mimi, a fluffy white unicorn that had been with you since birth. 

The soft animals had been with you through thick and thin for the majority of your life. First days of school, homework meltdowns, the day you figured out what boys were. All of the essential milestones had been witnessed by their little plastic eyes. They were as much your family as your parents were. 

But you couldn’t bring yourself to let Eddie know about them in any capacity. Hiding them away was a tedious task. If Eddie said he would pick you up from work, you’d shove them in the box before you left for your shift. If Eddie stopped by, you’d tell him you had to tidy your room before he could come in. He always laughed and insisted that he would be fine if your room were like a bomb site. He was too modest for his own good, but he still wasn’t seeing your fluffy little secrets.

-

You had just dragged yourself home from a, quite frankly, hellish evening shift. Your shift was supposed to finish at 9, but your manager had bitched at you enough to make you stay for an extra hour. Fridays from 5-8 were discount hours and the time frame when everyone came to buy their weekend booze. Older people were horrendous when their favourite beer brand was out of stock - like you had personally gone to the trouble of buying every pallet of the dishwater piss just to be annoying.

There was some Chinese takeout in the microwave for you since your parents had headed off to their respective night shifts at the hospital. You balanced two boxes - sesame chicken and chow mein - with a can of Pepsi in your arms as you dashed up the stairs to your bedroom. Fresh pyjamas were waiting for you, Eddie had lent you his copy of Fellowship of The Ring, and you were so ready to turn your brain off and-

“Honey, you’re home!” The chipper voice almost made you drop everything. A chill ran down your spine, and, honestly, you felt like you were going to start eroding away into the atmosphere from humiliation. Eddie was lounging on your bed, his waves splayed over your pillows, and soft animals moved carefully to be at his sides - two on each side, making sure no one felt left out. “What you got in the boxes? And can we share?” 

You stood at the foot of your bed, taking in the weirdly domestic image in front of you, “why are you here?” you asked, voice sounding distant. 

Eddie’s brows furrowed, and he began to sit up, “Should’ve asked first, knew I should’ve. Sorry, just thought it would be all romantic and shit, ya know.” He mumbled. Eddie looked very dejected. Had he overstepped a boundary? Did you want your alone time? God, he could be so dumb sometimes when it came to you.

Shaking your head, you moved to put down the takeout boxes and your bag, “No, no. Don’t worry,” you smiled, patting his thigh as you passed him, “just wasn’t expecting to see you all comfortable and cosy there with - with all that.” 

“I am pretty comfy. These lil guys kept me company until you got back.” Eddie beamed, practically melting into your sheets and gesturing to your stuffed animals. Did he like them? He didn’t think it was weird that you still had them. Your expression showed that your mind was running a mile a minute when you really should be starting to relax. He knew that evening shifts were the pits for you. “How come I’ve never met the gang before?” 

“The gang?” You snorted, pulling off your sports jacket and throwing it on your clothes chair, “I just thought it was a little kiddy to still have stuffed animals on my bed. Was worried you’d - I dunno.”

“Worried I’d what? You know who you’re talking to?” Eddie raised his eyebrows, fixing you with a look that made you squirm, “some fluffy little secrets aren’t gonna scare me off, promise.” 

“You sure you don’t think they’re weird?” Your voice wasn’t more than a mumble as you sat down beside him on the bed, “the girls said they’re kind of a boner killer.”

Eddie’s eyes widened, and he started to wriggle his way over to you to lay his head in your lap. When he was in this type of mood - a big softie mood - you had to wonder why you thought he’d care about some stuffed toys. Those thoughts didn’t soothe your anxiety entirely, though; you would need to hear the confirmation from him - potentially in writing, for your own sanity. His big, molasses eyes stared up at you with a determined look. God, he was going to monologue in a minute, and it was going to be correct, and you would feel all mushy.

“I want names, place of origin, and lore if you got any,” Eddie stated, counting on each of his fingers to really hammer in his point and make it clear that he was interested. It warmed your heart in a way you hadn’t felt since your first date with him. Of course, the guy warmed your very soul on a near-daily basis. But when he showed just how much he cared, it made the butterflies in your stomach go haywire. “We’re starting with the sheep. Obviously. Give me the deets.” He picked up Woolia and placed her on his chest, arranging her hooves properly.

You couldn’t fight back the grin that spread from ear to ear. Your fingers gently carded through Eddie’s hair as you introduced him to the ‘gang’ “This is Woolia.”

Eddie barked out a laugh at the name, not in malice but in a combination of pride and pleasant surprise, “I never knew you were so creative, babe.”

“Shut up. Do you want the full run down or not?” You teased, flickering his forehead lightly until he stopped laughing. “As I was saying, I’ve had Woolia since I was 3. My grandma got her for me when she went to Wyoming.”

“A Wyomingite? Christ, it’s a good thing she’s cute.” Eddie grimaced, moving the small sheep from his chest and putting her back in her original place. He was so careful with her - you usually squished her in your sleep and woke up with her under your tailbone. “Green gecko dude next.” 

Reggie was whisked from his spot and placed onto Eddie’s chest, now the introduction stage for your stuffed animals. You had been so concerned about being embarrassed if Eddie ever caught wind of them. Yet here he was, demanding all information on each of them individually.

“This is Reggie, short for Reginald Von Scales II,” you were interrupted by yet another loud chuckle from Eddie. He was having the time of his life - he might have to start asking you to help with character names for this campaign. “Yeah, I’m hilarious, I know. Anyway, I got Reggie when I was eight and went to the big zoo in Indianapolis with my parents. All the stuffed animals in the gift shop were begging to be taken home. My dad said since I was good, I could get anyone I wanted. Reggie was hidden at the back of a shelf, and I knew I had to get him when I saw him.” 

Talking about the origins of these soft creatures was nostalgic and brought a warmness to your body that was relaxing. So many great memories were linked to the toys, and now you’d have a new one with Eddie there.

“Hey, he’s kinda like me! You could’ve had your pick of guys around here, but you chose little ol’ me.” Eddie enthused. He blinked his eyelashes up at you and wiggled his eyebrows - screw Woolia; it was a good thing he was cute. “You got me from the very, very back of the man shelf. Like, you must have been digging for some weird shit to get - well, this.” He gestured to himself.

Your gaze softened. He wasn’t “weird shit”. He wasn’t just any guy. Sure, he was pushed to the back of the line when it came to discussing eligible bachelors around Hawkins, but he was all yours now. That’s all that mattered. “I’ve got specific, immaculate taste, and I’ll be damned if it wasn’t being met.” You stated matter of factly. 

“Aw, you always know how to make a dude swoon.” Eddie sighed dreamily. Christ, he was a mushy idiot. If anyone saw him like this, his reputation would be in the toilet. “Reggie is the running for the favourite. Let’s see what blue boy here can bring to the table.” Eddie made the switch between Reggie and Jules, the extra soft dolphin.

“Jules is just… Jules. Got both boy and girl vibes, if I’m honest.” You explained, shrugging at Eddie, who nodded in understanding, “Got them in a thrift store with my mom when I was five, I think? Another case of a toy sitting on a shelf and me deciding to call forever dibs.” 

A giddy smirk appeared on Eddie’s face, “you’ve got a thing for picking up strays, huh?” He was wiggling his eyebrows again, so you flicked his forehead again. 

“Stop acting like you’re some flea-infested cat. I’ll get mad.” You huffed, trying your best to sound genuinely stern with him, but it definitely didn’t work. You ran your thumb across his knuckles as he started poking Jules’ squishy head. 

Eddie took hold of your offered hand and kissed the back of it, “fine, I’ll quit bad-mouthing your man.”

“Thank you very much. Now, onto Mimi.” 

“I did save the unicorn for last,” You knew that. If there was anything to do with the high fantasy genre, Eddie would be all over it. Even the pretty magic horses. 

“She is the oldest of the bunch. Been perched by those pillows since before I can remember.” You informed, fixing a stray tuft of hair on her bright mane. “My mom has a ton of photos of me carrying her around everywhere.”

Eddie looked at the unicorn toy with a distinct fondness, a soft smile and an even softer gaze.

“What’s got you all smiley?”

“Nothin’, that’s just really sweet, is all. Mimi’s had your back forever.” You didn’t know if you wanted to kiss or smother him with a pillow. He was too fucking adorable when he was like this. 

“I guess she has, yeah.” You breathed, running your fingers through Eddie’s hair again, “What do you think of the gang then?”

“Big, big fan. I think Reg is my favourite. He’s got that underdog vibe going on, which I respect.” Eddie leaned over and tried to give the gecko plush a fist bump with his finger. 

You weren’t sure what came over you. A warmth had been stirring inside you since Eddie put his head on your lap and was polite to your stuffed animals. He listened closely and handled them like they were valuable to him too. The intimacy of this whole situation was not lost on you. If anything, you were far too aware of it. Eddie loved you and your quirks the same way you loved him and his. 

You bit your bottom lip slightly and turned to glance down at the blissful man in your lap.

“C’mere a sec,” Eddie said, leaning up on his elbows. You knew what “c’mere” meant, so you let Eddie place one of his hands on the back of your head, bringing your lips together. The kiss was so sweet. The usual saccharine kisses that the town’s resident satan worshipper was a big fan of laying on you at any opportunity. Eddie’s lips were always soft as his kiss became firmer. 

He pulled away by a hair to sit back against your pillows and guided you to straddle his thighs before diving back into your waiting, wanting mouth. You were hungrier for him now. The warmth in your stomach was being fueled as Eddie ran his hands up your thighs to rest of your ass. Feeling the fat and groaning when you shifted your hips - your ass and thighs drove the poor guy mad, and you loved it.

Your eyes opened slightly to make sure you closed your bedroom door but made contact with Mimi's big, black plastic eyes. Quickly, you pulled away from Eddie with heaving pants. It felt like torture to let him go at that moment. The stiff bulge of his cock pressing into your clothed cunt. Yeah, the gang was going to have to move - and move quickly.

“Wait, wait, Eddie,” You panted, clambering off his lap.

“What? You good? Did I get the wrong hole?” Eddie rambled, sitting up abruptly and looking more than a little frazzled. He was all rosy cheeks and glossy eyes, and he had to ruin it by thinking it’d simulated anal. So charming. 

“No, you’d know if you’d done that, trust me,” You said as you gently placed your plush friends on the carpet, far away from your bed and facing the wall. It wasn’t a comfortable position, but they would have to deal with it while you rode your boyfriend until he screamed.

“Ah. You don’t want an audience, I gotcha,” Eddie nodded, winking at you from his spot on your bed. Satisfied with the gang’s relocation, you turned back to Eddie, pulling off your work shirt and getting to work on your jeans. 

Eddie quickly got the hint and nearly ripped his baseball tee while trying to get it over his head fast enough. His belt was launched somewhere in your room as he opened his arms to welcome you back onto his lap. Your hungry mouth again devoured his in a wet kiss, full of groans and rapid breaths. Eddie made quick work on your bra, having become intimately acquainted with this particular nude one. It was an old faithful that you didn’t want him to see as much as he did, but that’s just how getting naked seemed to go for you both. 

You threw yourself onto the mattress beside Eddie and started to claw at your jeans to get them off. Eddie followed suit as you were both in a tangle of legs and denim, fidgeting desperately to get that glorious skin-to-skin contact. 

Once down to your underwear, you grabbed Eddie’s head and pulled him in so you could lick, kiss and nibble at his pulse point. He really loved it when you got grabby and roughed him up a little. The lack of control over your own strength had his cock twitching in his boxers. 

“Can we do that thing, please?” You sighed, running your fingers up and down Eddie’s chest. Fuck, you were sweating and close to humping your cunt into Eddie’s erection - chasing friction that only he could give you. 

Eddie moaned when your fingertips grazed his nipples, his darkened eyes struggling to say open, “Which one? There’s a couple. We can do anything you want, babe.” You could punch him, kick him or rip his hair out right now and he’d be so cool with it. 

Eddie was finally getting to experience heaven. The god squad of Hawkins would be so jealous of him. You wrapped your legs around his waist and rolled him onto his back with a bounce, pinning him and shooting him a toothy grin. 

“Me riding you. Everywhere. Face, cock. Sound like a plan?” You chirped, wiggling your hips how he liked it. Faking some innocence in the moment was too fun to pass up. Plus, riling Eddie up was a surefire way to make him lose his mind in the best ways. 

Eddie nodded so fast he almost gave himself whiplash, “Amazing idea. God, my lady’s so smart.” He grabbed the backs of your thighs and pulled you towards his head while he shifted his body down the bed. Eating your cunt was one of Eddie’s favourite pastimes, but it was so much better when you rode his face and used him to get yourself off. 

You had forgotten to pull your panties off before straddling your boyfriend’s head. Usually, this would have led to you fiddling and contorting yourself to get them off. 

Not today, though. Eddie just grabbed the lace trim, yanked them to the side, so they bit into your ass cheek and shoved his face into your dripping cunt. 

“Fuck yes, thank you,” Eddie groaned before licking and sucking your clit. He was like a man starved as he groped and massaged your ass, making sure you wouldn’t hold back on him. 

You let your head lull back as your mouth opened in a silent moan, your hips beginning to grind and ride his full lips and hot tongue. The wet, sloppy sounds of Eddie, essentially making out with your hole and clit brought a feral smile to your face. God, he always made you smile so big that your face hurt in the best way. 

Eddie started shaking his head between your legs, his tongue circling your hole before returning to flicking your puffy, needy clit. 

“Still can’t believe you let me do this,” Eddie sighed, saliva and your wet covering his flushed lips, “‘m I making you feel good, sweetheart?” 

Your moans were getting louder and more hoarse as Eddie started to move your hips himself, urging you to use him. You loved when he talked like that - his tongue, his lips, his voice. His mouth was everything. 

“Y-Yes, yes. You really want me to drench your pretty face, huh?” You giggled, sweet sighs of ecstasy huffing from your throat. Eddie whined while his tongue fucked you. “Pretty, pretty boy - fuck, please.”

“Shit - yeah, you taste fucking incredible. Gimme it all, babe, ah fuck.”

Eddie doubled down his efforts. Straining his neck a little to fuck up into you with more force and precision. You were leaking down his chin and making yourself all sticky. A blissful state, full of love and affection. Eddie huffed a laugh on your cunt as he saw the dreamy smirk on your lips. 

Groaning, whining, cursing. You two must have sounded like animals in heat as the springs in your mattress started to bounce and squeak. The room was that familiar warm - cosy, somewhat comfortable sweat and the smell of sex. 

Eddie forced your cunt down more onto his face. He would gladly suffocate right then and there. He needed your cum before you rode him because he knew he wouldn’t last long. Eddie liked the mess; it was filthy and made him feel so alive. But the lady has to finish first, and then you keep going until she nearly rips your damn head off. Eddie got that tip from a magazine one time. 

“Christ, you’re so so good - fuck, Eddie, your mouth!” You growled. You tended to make much deeper sounds when you were close. Eddie felt like he was going to blow his load in his boxers. “Just a little m-more.”

“Uh huh, uh huh,” Eddie chanted wetly, “Please - soak my pretty face.” 

That did it. 

Your hands knotted further into Eddie’s sweaty hair and gripped it like a lifeline as you wailed your release. He always liked when you pulled his hair. It made his eyes roll back in such a beautiful way. That was no different now. Big brown eyes were glazed over as they rolled into Eddie’s skull; you could feel a smug smile on his face. You gave him all of you, just like he wanted. You were the fucking best. 

You moved down Eddie’s torso in panting silence to straddle him again. You couldn’t wait for him to get his boxers off entirely, so you pulled them down enough for his swollen cock to slap against his stomach. It had become a talent of yours to make quick yet effective work of getting a condom on. Eddie fucking you raw was going to be on the table at some point, just not tonight. Too risky.

Fuck, he felt like he was going to scream or melt or just-

There was a distinct, sloppy slap. Followed by two even louder cries of pleasure. You knew that Eddie would slip inside you without any resistance. You needed him too much. 

“Oh, sweetheart, you’re spoiling me today.” Eddie giggled, staring up at you through heavy lids. “Do I get all this because I was friendly with the gang?” He settled back into your pillows and basked in the warm embrace of your cunt. 

You mewled at the feeling of being so full - it may have sounded shallow, but you loved his cock so goddamn much. “You were just so damn polite to ‘em. It’s hot seeing you be all sweet and caring.” 

“They’re important to you, ‘course I’m gonna be polite.” Eddie laughed. “They’ve taken care of you for ages, and now it’s my job to help out, right?” He smoothed his thumbs across your hips. 

“Eddie…” you sighed, caressing his face. His dreamy, beautiful, smug face. He was just so good to you and to the world. It always hurt that you were one of the few who truly understood that he had a heart of gold, in addition to being a weirdo. But he was your weirdo. “Love ya, Munson.” 

After your tooth-rotting words reached his ears, you started to grind down onto his stiff length. Eddie couldn’t do much, but he groaned in agreement with you. He never knew how good being ridden could feel without any bouncing. Sure, he adored when you bounced on his cock, chasing your high and fueling his, but there was a sensuality to the circle of your hips. The sight of you making his cock massage your g-spot was one he wanted to be tattooed behind his eyelids.

“How you doing down there, sweetheart?” You smiled, alternating between bouncing and swivelling. He had to give him some form of reward, “please soak my face,” that was such a good line. Damn, he was good.

Eddie let out a shaky groan and stared at where his cock disappeared into your cunt. When you called him sweetheart, he didn’t know what to do with himself. The flush that covered his upper body was rosy and fiery. “Fabulous as always.” He chuckled and shot you a bright grin. “I really don’t tell you enough how much I love your pussy. And she loves me.” 

“You’re so weird,” You snorted, running your hands through the sparse hair on his chest. “She’s gonna care really good care you.”

Eddie started to wonder if god finally decided to smile down on him as you started to ride him properly. The wet squelch of fucking filled his ears alongside your beautiful laughs and moans. He could see the slick from your cunt on his throbbing cock as you moved. Watching you in your element, so happy, on top of him, was hypnotic. Eddie would never cease to be mesmerised by you and your body. He began to thrust his hips up to meet your carefully curated rhythm.

Your head fell back, and your jaw swung open when you met at the perfect angle, at the perfect time. “Oh. My god - yeah, yes, Ed-” you called out. You were so happy that both of your parents had taken night shifts.

Eddie’s thrust began more forceful, faster, as he moved to push his feet into your mattress for leverage. He was a sweaty, whining mess under you, but he was still going to try and do a little bit of the work. “Uh huh, use me. Fuck, fucking shit - cum on me again.” He was rambling like a horny maniac, smiling like one too. He was having the time of his life. A pretty lady who loved him and had cute stuffed animals was riding him until he wanted to scream. What more could a dude ask for?

“Don’t stop - don’t stop talking. Fuck.” Yeah, you were losing your mind. Sex with Eddie always came with a satisfaction guarantee, but it was his dirty mouth that sealed the deal for you most of the time. “Does my pussy feel good?”

The harsh slapping of his balls hitting your ass richoted off the walls. Eddie wasn’t going to be lasting much longer by any means. “So - so good. She’s leaking all over me, such a good girl.” 

Now he was just trying to be annoying. It was working very well.

“Am I a good girl too?” You groaned, lightly gripping Eddie’s jaw so he could look you in the eye. The pace of your fucking had reached its peak. How you were still speaking in sentences was a mystery. Eddie was hitting your g-spot at the best angle and slipping deeper inside you every time you slammed your hips down. 

“Yeah, f-fuck. But, you’re a woman too.” Eddie slurred, loving the feeling of you keeping his eyes fixed on you. His left hand moved between you to rub your swollen clit in fast circles. Again, sensuality is what really did it for him. He would call you a good girl until he was blue in the face. But it was the fact that you were a full woman that warmed his blood - and his heart. All soft body, whispy hair everywhere, and markings on your skin showing how you’d grown into the person he got to love. “Mine,” he whined the word like prayer.

“‘M your woman, huh?” This was going to be over soon, but you needed a few more words out of him. “Then you’re my man, all mine.” You leaned down to whisper straight into his ear, followed by a long lick up the column of his throat - tasting the salty sweat dripping off of him.

“Oh, oh god - yeah, ‘m yours, baby.” Eddie grabbed the back of your head and pulled you into a scolding kiss. All tongue and saliva, but neither of you cared. This is always how it went. Right when you were both on the precipice of orgasm, start making out furiously. His cock was pounding into you, trying to mould your puffy walls to the shape of him. Eddie could feel his heart hammering and his eyes rolling back - he was almost there and so were you.

“All. Yours.” Eddie punctuated each word with a hard, impossibly deep thrust. Then he was a goner. Shooting ropes of cum into the condom and moaned like a girl in the porn he watched sometimes. 

You could feel the pulsing heat of him in your stomach. His nimble fingers were still focused on your clit. He always knew how to make you melt. So, melt you did. The world exploded into white, and you screamed into Eddie’s neck as your orgasm shook your body. 

The aftershocks of bliss left you both shaky and panting like you had run a marathon. You had already collapsed on Eddie’s chest as he started rubbing your scalp with his calloused fingers - the added roughness provided a good scratch. Your heart was hammering like his, each keeping pace with the other in the afterglow of that near-religious experience. You snuggled into his touch and trailed your fingers down the bridge of his nose, feeling his beauty and memorising the dips and peaks of his face - for what may have been the hundredth time.

Eddie shifted to catch your wandering hand and covered it in small pecks up to your wrist. “So, you got any more members of the gang to introduce? I’d love an audience with a penguin if I’m being honest.”

#eddie munson #eddie munson smut #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x fem!reader #eddie munson x fem!reader smut #fic #smut #fluff #my writing #yeah this is actual filthy #or at least the best im capable of at the moment #enjoy!!!

[i-smoke-chapstick]

‘WILDFLOWER AND BARLEY,

-GOTHAM!EDWARD NYGMA X READER-

⋆ 𝐒𝐘𝐍𝐎𝐏𝐒𝐈𝐒 ; Sometimes you don’t think you deserve him….other times, you think it’s for the best that you stay.

⋆ tags/warnings. GOTHAM!riddler x female reader. SMUT AND ANGST!! reader is toxic, but eddie is too, so its ok. eddy being vanilla but also strangely dominant. guys this fic is FILTHY. also,, part 3 to gotham characters eating you out. takes place with like season 2 eddy, post kringle. Did i write a fic inspired by a Hozier song that isn’t even released yet? yes. readers taking advantage of eddy. but also, eddy is more than willing to give. kind of a character study. im so sorry if i made reader too mean ive had this idea for a week😭

fic requested by @clementine-writes-things <3

♫ “My coffee black in my bed at 3 / You’re too sweet for me. You’re too sweet for me.” Wildflower and Barley by Hozier

You’d fucked up, majorly.

God, what were you thinking?

Edward Nygma, the quirky forensics guy. The loon, as your fellow officers eloquently put it. And you didn’t necessarily disagree. He was certainly a peculiar fellow. He had always a thing for…what was her name? Kristen Kringle. That was it. You’d been working with him for years, watching him moon after her. You could…understand the appeal, you guessed. She had a sexy sixties librarian type of thing going for her. She kept to herself. Maybe you should’ve done the same. She’d dissapeared a few weeks ago.

You somehow landed yourself in the bed of Edward Nygma. You’d been hooking up…For the past two weeks in a row. No judgement, yeah?

It started as a joke. You and the other officers, chatting with beers and obnoxious comments towards the other tools in the GCPD. Jim Gordon…Harvey Bullock. The way the men couldn’t seem to keep their mouthes shut, especially Jim.

Well, you’d gotten plenty tipsy, staying after work. You pummled those beers back like it was your last night alive. And hell, living in gotham? As an officer? It very well could be.

They were all drunk and laughing out of their minds. Anything anyone said seemed overly funny. Especially when one of your fellow cops brought up the name, “Nygma” like the name was it’s own disease.

“You think Y/N could sleep with him?”

“Yeah, Y/N, go fuck the loon. I wonder what it’s like.”

“You think he says riddles when hes cumming?”

“Whats long, hard, and has ‘cum’ in the middle?”

The numerous voices of your “friends” rung out, and in the moment, drunk out if your mind, you too thought it was the funniest thing in the world.

“I could do it.” You affirmed, alcohol giving you the liquid courage you wouldn’t typically have. After the “oooooo”ing from some of your coworkers, you decided, fuck it. Edward was tall, had nice cheekbones, and was smart. You could do worse than a one night stand.

So you confidently marched into that forensics room, high on the dare the other cops had given you.

You found him, looking into one of the forensics mirrors. He was muttering to himself and you snorted. Weirdo. Oh well.

He pushed up his glasses when you two made eye contact. He was sweating, for some reason, in that lanky labcoat and rubber-gloved hands. He stood up straight and went rigid when he saw you.

“Ms. L/N-“ He was about to question, when you rammed your lips onto his. You remember it like yesterday- how hesitant he was. The way he parted for air, breathing wildly at you. He kept trying to ask questions the whole time you were eagerly undressing him. But he didn’t seem to mind your fowardness.

Well, just your luck, that one night stand was the best fuck of your life. The way his cock fitted perfectly into your body, like it was made for your cunt alone. You two fucked on the forensics cabinets, your coworkers in the next room over, and it was exhilarating. Especially when the usually reserved Ed got unusually rough, pulling your hair and smacking your ass just right.

By the time you two were done…you were fucked out of your mind. Pleasantly surprised.

Since then, you hadn’t been able to get away. You told the cops it was vanilla, and reveled in their dismay. But…you came back for seconds. And then thirds. And then fourths. And then you couldn’t remember the last time you woke up in your own bed.

And just as if you were Kristen…he started following you. Your coworkers snickered. You’d see homemade cupcakes left on your desk. You’d catch him staring at you from the other side of the precint. You writhed under his gaze. For a man with not much expirence, he was obnoxiously good at sex. And he was even more obnoxiously good at not understanding the meaning of coworkers with benefits, and not a relationship.

But…mornings like these? You can’t complain.

Taking yourself back to the present, you awoke in his bed. The sunlight of the open windows bled through your eyelids, and you felt yourself smack your lips. You blinked yourself awake, same as you always did. You shifted underneath the covers, which had been neatly adjusted over you. It was infuriatingly comfortable. You let a yawn escape your lips.

“Ah, good! You’re awake!” You heard his voice chime, far off in the kitchen. You looked up, seeing his tall frame. He stared at you adoringly, and you felt your heart pang.

He carried a tray of coffee and breakfast. You sat up. It was the usual morning routine. He made the most exquisite breakfasts for you.

“A necessity to some, a treasure to many. I’m best enjoyed among pleasant company. Some like me hot, some like me cold. Some prefer me mild, others prefer me bold. What am I?” He spoke the riddle quickly.

You blinked at him, tired. You shrugged nonchalantly.

He made his way over to you, swiftly and delicatley placing the tray in your lap.

“Coffee.” He looked a bit dissapointed at your lack of answer, but brightened back up instantly. “Almost black, not quite. 1 Sugar. No cream. Just how you like it.” He noted, and it was in this moment, you felt the weight of your actions. He’d memorized everything about you. Whatever records you liked, he’d play softly. He’d learned your favorite flavor cupcake, and how you took your coffee. Gods, he’d even bought the brand of toothpaste you had at your house, so it was familiar brushing your teeth in the morning.

You squinted, adjusting yourself to the sunlight of the room. Golden. You felt the weight of the tray, and met his gaze. God, it was intense. The way his big, puppy dog like eyes harrowed in on you. Like you were the world.

He was practically wagging his tail, watching you take a slow sip of coffee. He wanted praise, as though perfected it, finally.

He was too sweet for you. You didn’t deserve any of this. But selfishly…you couldn’t resist.

You gave him a small nod in approval, letting the liquid glide down your throat. Damn it, The coffee was perfect.

He positioned himself next to you on the bed, sitting, legs crossed. He looked at you almost creepily, eyes never leaving as you finished your breakfast and coffee. You didn’t say a word to him, but you did listen to him ramble quite a bit. Every now and then he’d ask a casual question, and you’d stay silent, or give him a one worded answer. You’d see his smile falter, but he’d continue.

When you were done, he’d grab the tray from your hands. You let him do the work for you. You liked his bed. He came back, eyes big and bright. He sat once more, looking at you expectantly. You furrowed your brows.

“…What?”

He shrugged, giving a slightly nervous, manic giggle. You cringed a bit, but faltered when you felt his fingertips glide across your thigh.

Oh. Thats what.

“…We have work in an hour.” You replied. The mantra played in your head. You don’t deserve this. You don’t deserve him. You felt guilty.

“I’ll be quick.” He affirmed, peeling the covers back. Oh, fuck it. Who were you to deny him?

He didn’t lie, he was fast. The covers exposed your skin, still undressed from the previous night. You felt the cool air on your thighs and pussy, and couldn’t help it. You caved.

In an instant, he was worshipping your legs, working his way up. He kept eye contact with you, laying gentle bites and pecks into the plush of your skin.

He kissed his way up, tonguing the bite marks he left in his wake. You shivered when his lips hovered over your pussy. He wasted no time. No, he didn’t tease you, he needed to please you as quickly as he could. It was a need for him.

His tongue came into contact with your pussy lips, and you shivered. Instinctivley, you threaded your hands through his morning messy hair, and shoved his face into you. He reciprocated instantly, wanting nothing more than to make you feel good. He licked up and down, tongue flicking gently on your cute little pearl of a clit.

He circles it and taps it with his tongue, saliva dripping and mixing with your juices. His movements are quick and calculated, and he indulges you, body and soul. He hums in pleasure when you arch your back up into him uncontrollably. It’s almost uncharacteristic- the way he switches from being so soft and gentle, to practically making out with your pussy. You feel his fingers dig into your thighs, like he’s a whole different person when he’s mouth fucking you.

Your moaning and shaking, saying his name over and over. Somehow, your getting off to this. To the idea you don’t deserve him. That he’s such a nicer, better, smarter person than you. And although he doesn’t vocalize it, you wonder if he strangely shares the sentiment.

It’s almost like he knows. Like he’s self-aware- of all your selfish thoughts. Like this, him eating you out, him on his knees for you, making you breakfast in bed- is some sort of revenge.

He knows what he’s doing. He’s making you feel awful, guilty for your mistreatment of him- by giving you more and more of him. And you find yourself cumming in his mouth at the thought.

He greedily laps at your swollen clit, overstimulating you. You let out a loud yelp, and he keeps going, only for a few more seconds.

It’s weird. He’s weird. But as you sober up from your orgasm, shaking underneath him, you brush those strange thoughts from your head.

You look into his gentle eyes again, watching him ramble off apologies. You two will most definitely be late to work. You scold yourself. Why would you think such an odd thing? No, he’s a complete sweetheart. Not a degrading bone in his body. You think.

Yet…you still feel the bruises forming on your thighs. And the burning guilt of using him.

You left his aparment in a hurry, driving yourself insane. You seem to convice yourself it was a weird orgasm thought, maybe you’re more kinky than you thought; for some pseudo pyschological self degradtion.

You go to the precint, just as you do every other day. The work is effectively still just as boring and your peers are still just as insufferable.

You’re given a few files by some mysoginistic cop you haven’t aquainted yourself with, who obviously assumed you were the new record keeper. You snort, but decide to take it. You browse over the files, snooping. They are forensic files, and your heart drops. Ah. You’ll have to give these to him.

You enter the forensic room without knocking- at least, you’re about to. But you hear him mumbling to himself, and decide to listen in for a moment. Curiosity getting the best of you.

“You’re too good to her.” You hear him argue with…himself? “You need to show her whose in charge.”

“I am!” He retaliates to his own voice.

“By making her coffee?” He snarls, and your brows furrow. He smashes a file cabinet closed loudly. You jump.

“Yes!” Ed’s voice growls out, fed up. “If you were smart enough to understand-“ He begins, and you’ve heard enough. You enter the room.

Ed looks at you bewildered, and you look at the same. He’s sweating, and his hair is in dissaray. You two make eyecontact and you grimace. What the hell?

You hardly register what he was actually saying, and more that he was having a seemingly very heated conversation with himself. You watch him fumble with his glasses.

“…Ed?” You question, and he snaps.

“What are you doing here?” His voice is quick and sharp. Thats uncharacteristic. You wince.

“Uh, files.” You nod to the papers in your hands, and he blinks, standing up straight. He clears his throat.

“Right.” He recovers, quickly. You narrow your eyes at him, and hum, giving them to him. He’s about to speak, but you rush yourself out of the room, heart pounding.

He is weird. He is a freak. You chime. Your coworkers have been right.

Any shred of pity you had for him has dwindled significantly, and you mull it over in your mind.

Maybe you do deserve eachother, You think. You’re the best he’s going to get.

#x reader #gotham #gotham x reader #batman #batman rogues #batman x reader #gotham villains x reader #batman rouges gallery #dc comics #gotham edward #gotham edward nygma #edward nygma gotham #edward nygma x reader #edward nygma #edward nygma x reader smut #the riddler gotham #the riddler smut #the riddler #the riddler x reader

[midnight-talescape]

𝒫𝓇𝑜𝓉𝑒𝒸𝓉𝒾𝑜𝓃 (𝐵𝑜𝒹𝓎𝑔𝓊𝒶𝓇𝒹 𝑀𝒾𝑔𝓊𝑒𝓁 𝒪’𝒽𝒶𝓇𝒶 𝓍 𝑅𝑒𝒶𝒹𝑒𝓇)

Kinktober Day 12: Somnophilia

I don't believe in bottom Miguel but I'm ready to pay money to hear the man whimper. I want him to beg

Warning: somnophillia, noncon? age gap, reader is at least 18 tho, it's just Miguel is old, a little gaslighting etc, etc you get the point not for kid

Genre: filthy filthy smut

Word Count: 2609

｡･ﾟ･｡+☆+｡･ﾟ･｡+☆+｡･ﾟ･｡+☆+｡･ﾟ･｡+☆+｡･ﾟ･｡+☆+｡･ﾟ･｡+☆+｡･ﾟ･｡+☆+｡･ﾟ･｡

It was his mission to protect you.

To get close to you and your family, so he can gather evidence and take them down.

He shouldn't be attached to you, you were just a target after all.

You were only supposed to be a target.

But he couldn't stop himself from being attracted to you.

You were just so…beautiful

When he took the mission he fully expected you to be a brat, and don't get him wrong, you are.

You refuse to wake up in the morning, is a lazy fuck who refuses to do anything unless he forces you, you don't eat unless he cooks, and you practically refuse to walk unless you need to.

Sometimes Miguel wonders if he came to be your bodyguard or your maid.

But you also go out of your way to make sure he takes care of himself, dragging him along on all your dumb little adventures.

He tried to push down his feelings for you.

He really did.

He reminded himself that you were the child of his enemy, the sole heir of the largest mafia in the city. That you guys can never be together and after his mission is over you will despise him.

Even if you weren’t his target and he was a regular bodyguard, he was still too old for you. Why will someone like you like a guy who’s so much older than you? Cough dilf cough

But he couldn't.

Not when you trust him so full-heartedly and look up at him with your beautiful eyes.

Not when you ask him to dance at the party, and when you guys kiss each other for a dare.

You were his secret desire, something he couldn't have.

But god help him, if he sees anyone near you, if he can't have you, no one else should either.

Which is why you're currently holding onto his arm, trying to stop him from beating the living shit out of the guy who dares get touchy with you.

“Miguel! Stop it!” you yell as you hold onto his arm trying to pull him back,

Miguel looks back at you snarling, his eyes maniacal and filled with rage,

“No! He insulted you! I'm not stopping until he regrets it!”

“I’m sure he’s regretting it right now, please stop you’re scaring me, Miguel!”

Hearing your words Miguel turned towards you, before leaning down and breathing heavily,

“I-im sorry, I lost control there. Are you okay, (Y/N)?”

“Yes, I'm okay! Are you alright?” You ask as you wipe away some of the blood on his face,

Miguel chuckled as you said that. You completely ignored the fact that he was the one who was beating up the other guy, solely focused on his safety.

He shouldn't feel delighted to see your cruelty showing, but as the target of your worries and affection, he couldn't help but feel satisfied.

“Me? Of course, I'm alright, princesa.”

“Are you sure?” you ask worriedly while circling him trying to make sure there’s no injury on him,

Miguel wrapped his arm around your waist tightly and buried his face in the crook of your neck,

“Yes, there's no need to worry about me…” Miguel holds back the desire to moan into your neck as he breathes in your scent,

I'm a bastard, I'm a sick fucking bastard…

You leaned into his arm and closed your eyes in content, you do enjoy hugs despite not giving them out often.

His arm was large and firm, kinda like a warm pillow. It makes you feel safe like he can protect you from anything in the world. As you wrapped your arm around his waist, you thought,

I swear this is the only reason I ask Father for him to be my bodyguard.

Miguel lifted you into his arm, carrying you bridal style, as though you were his entire world.

And in a way… you are.

As you wrapped your arm around his neck, sighing in contentment, Miguel looked down at you with a warm smile.

“You look cute when you’re leaning into my arm, Cariño. I should do this more often…” Miguel said jokingly but his eyes were deadly serious, he wish he could cuddle you more often,

You yawned as you made an order on your phone to take care of the man in the alley as Miguel began to take you back home,

“We should, you are very comfortable, Miguel,”

Miguel blushed at your statement, he didn't expect you to agree with him, feeling a little bolder he said,

“I'm glad you think so, maybe next time I can be your mattress?”

What am I doing?! She will hate me!!! What kind of creep says that?! What the fuck is wrong with me?!

“Can you do that? Is that a part of your job description?”

He nearly choked when you said that. He didn't expect you to be so down with this, and so excited

“Of course, anything to make you happy, proncesa,” he said as he placed a kiss on your forehead, his voice having an undertone of excitement,

You snuggled deeper into his chest, allowing your face to rest on the soft muscle,

“I'm so glad I picked you to be my bodyguard, Miguel. I knew picking people based on how pretty I find them was a good baseline!”

A faint blush appeared on Miguel's face as he held you tighter to him,

“I'm glad you find me pretty enough to be your bodyguard…”

He might have said something else and you might have answered back, but he was too distracted by what you said, while you were too distracted by his pecs.

When you guys finally reached your mansion he finally calmed down a little and began placing you on your bed.

Just as he was about to leave you stopped him,

“I thought you promised to be my mattress, Miguel? Come sleep with meeeeeee, you look warm and comfortable, please.” You said making grabby hands toward him,

Miguel sighed as he looked at you, trying his best to hide how flustered he is

“You’re a brat sometime you know?”

“Pleeeeeease, Miguel?” You ask again doing your best puppy eyes,

“Fine, I will go change first,” Miguel said, not being able to say no to your puppy eyes,

A part of him wants to sleep next to you, to hold your body in his arms, even if it’s just for a single night.

By the time he came back you were already changed and waiting for him. As soon as he got on your bed, you almost immediately snuggled onto him.

“Good night, Miguel” you mumbled as you closed your eyes sleepily,

Miguel lowered his eyes and placed a kiss on your cheek before whispering hoarsely,

“Sleep tight, princesa…”

As your breathing slowed and you fell into a deep sleep, Miguel closed his eyes as well, desperately trying to sleep and ignoring your warm body so close to his.

Your body felt so tiny in his arms.

Miguel thought about all the things he wanted to do to you. Things that no bodyguard should ever think of doing to their client.

Miguel's eyes stayed shut as he tried to sleep, but his imagination filled with possibilities of what he could do to you.

He was pretty successful until he felt your mouth on his chest, nibbling it softly in your sleep.

What are you dreaming of? You breastfeeding me, I mean what?

“Mmmh~”

Miguel let out a soft moan as he felt you bite down on his pecs, shuddering as he clenched his hand into a fist.

His brain is filled with vulgar thoughts of what he wants to do to you.

I-i should leave, go do some exercise, and blow off some steam. This isn't right, she's a target, I shouldn't feel this way.

Just as he was about to leave, you tighten your arm around his waist whining,

“D-dont leave…”

Well fuck

Miguel was frozen in place, he wanted to leave but he couldn't move an inch because of you.

"Okay, Okay, Fine I won't leave,”

He whispered as he tried to ignore the way you were clinging onto him, the way his body reacted to you and the way his mind was going feral with lust.

As you buried your face in his chest again, leaving behind little bite marks in your dream, Miguel couldn't take it anymore.

In a moment of weakness, he tilted your face up toward him and pressed his lip against yours.

You moaned softly in your sleep, the taste of your mouth on his caused Miguel to freeze as he felt his cock harden.

This is wrong, this is so wrong, you were asleep for fuck sake

But no matter how hard he tried, he couldn't stop himself from wanting you.

Even as an undercover cop that's meant to take down your family, somehow being your bodyguard and keeping you with him is more important to him now.

He pressed a soft kiss against your neck, his tongue slowly tracing the curves there as his cock throbbed painfully in his pants.

Miguel knew this was wrong, and yet he couldn't stop himself.

You writhed in your sleep, a soft whimper escaping your lips as Miguel's hand traced the curves of your back and slid down to your ass.

The thoughts running through his mind were disturbing, considering his profession as your bodyguard and yet the desire seemed to consume him.

His fingers traced over the small bruises and cuts on your body, he saw proof of how dangerous your life was. He should focus on how to protect you, to keep you safe, or at the very least gather more evidence against your family, and yet, all he could think about was how to claim you as his.

Miguel's hand slipped under your shirt and lifted it up, revealing your breast. He took a hardened nipple into his mouth, biting it gently as his other hand slipped between your legs.

You let out a moan in your sleep as you tried to close your leg, catching Miguel’s hand between your soft thigh.

As he watched your body twist and writhe under him, he realized he didn't care about the fact that you were his target and he was your bodyguard.

He held his hand near your panties and he could feel the wetness that was seeping through. He was getting you aroused in your sleep.

Miguel couldn't help but feel the thrill and wrongness of it all mixing together in his mind.

His mouth continues to lick and bite your breast, gently holding your nipple between his teeth and grinding it slowly like he was savoring it.

You whimpered in your sleep, weakly trying to push away the intruder that was causing you discomfort in your sleep.

He moved your panties to the side, exposing your wet cunt. His finger gently circled your clit before he slipped a finger inside you, your body trembled in your sleep as you let out a small gasp. Your eyes begin to flutter as you feel the discomfort in your body.

Noticing this Miguel stopped fingering you momentarily to place a kiss on your forehead, using his free to stroke your back gently as he whispered,

“It's okay, princesa. Go back to sleep, I will take care of you…”

Hearing his words you slowly fell back into a deeper sleep, before letting out a louder moan as Miguel started thrusting his finger into you faster.

As his fingers moved inside you, he felt your walls contracting and clenching around his finger. He could hear your soft groan as he hit your sensitive spot and the tear that threatened to fall from under your closed eyelids.

A few minutes later with a shuddering cry, you orgasm onto his finger, drenching the sheet under you and his hand wet.

Miguel grinned as he felt the warm fluid on his fingers, without hesitation he slipped another finger inside you, holding your body tightly as your back arched.

You let out a sob as you felt your body being stretched open in your sleep, a soft whimper escaping your lips as Miguel's warm hands moved across your bare body.

Miguel couldn't stop himself, he wanted you too much. To hold you and fuck you senseless, making you cry out his name as you beg for him to stop.

Letting go of your breast he slowly kissed his way up your neck again. As he groaned into your neck, one by one he slipped his fingers inside you, forcing your body to stay still as he stretched you open.

Taking in a sick satisfaction as he forced you to come on his hand over and over again. Your cry and whimper getting more and more desperate as your was overstimulated.

Finally pulling his finger out, he licked the juice off his finger before lowering his head to your thigh.

As you let out a mewl in your sleep, Miguel couldn't resist taking your clit into his mouth, hungrily sucking on it like his life depends on it.

"You taste so sweet, princesa," Miguel mumbled into your cunt, his nose buried deep inside you, smelling your tantalizing scent as he thrust his tongue inside you,

Every moment, he felt guilt clawing at his conscience, reminding him of his duties as your undercover bodyguard. He wasn't supposed to want you, let alone touch you.

As his tongue danced around your clit, Miguel couldn't help but feel a twinge of guilt. It was wrong to want you. As his consciousness yelled at him to stop, he slid a finger back inside you, finding your g-spot before thrusting into you with his tongue.

You cried out in your sleep, the sound getting louder and louder as Miguel continued to thrust into you. Your body clamped down on his fingers, as your body began to shake violently. Your eyes fluttering rapidly seemingly ready to wake up at any moment.

With a final suck, you squirted onto Miguel's face, as your eyes flew open your breathing heavy as you woke up confused and your face covered in tears.

“W-what is happening?” You ask dazed and very confused,

Miguel wiped off his face before holding your face in his hand and whispered,

“You’re dreaming, princesa… go back to sleep…”

“A-am i? You ask sleepily, your body feels sore and sticky,

“Of course, Princesa… your dreams are always weird when you’re tired. Just close your eyes, carino… I will take care of you…”

You tried to question what was happening more, but you were so tired.

As you fell asleep again, Miguel knew he was off the hook. You never remember anything that happened when you're half asleep.

But he needs to stop, he can only gaslight you so many times. You’re dense, not stupid.

With a groan, he pulled out his thick erection that had been painfully hard in the last few hours.

With a few quick strokes, he placed his cock between your thigh, smearing his precum onto your thigh.

With a few grunts, he begins thrusting his cock between your thigh, ignoring your sleepy cry and whining.

Eventually, he climaxed onto you, spilling white cum across your chest and legs. Miguel panted as he watched your body tainted by his seed he finally regained his clarity.

He should feel sick for what he did to you in your sleep, but he doesn't.

Only a sick sense of satisfaction.

Getting up, he went to get a towel to clean you up.

He will never let you know what he did to you…

#no i don’t have problems #reader insert #reader smut #x reader #kinktober #kinktober 2023 #miguel o’hara smut #miguel o’hara x reader #miguel smut #miguel x y/n

[v-ternus]

Movie

I like to think of the ways Dew and Aether kept up with each other while Dew was away with everyone else on tour.

This one's for @iamthecomet, those SwissDewther thoughts never left, they just turned into this. Im so sorry... I dont know where the angst came from.

Under the cut cuz it got long again.

Also, I swear Dew and Aether love Swiss to hell and back, he's just a proxy for this night (he'll get his turn some other time)

Sister was going to kill him. It was bad enough that he was replaced, fired with no real rhyme or reason, but the desk work he was being saddled with? It was maddening, and some days it feels like he'd rather be sent back to the pit.

Today was one of those days.

Sister had berated him for something, misfiling a form or messing up her damn coffee, since he apparently doubled as her secretary too. Whatever it was, it was dumb. Plain stupid. But apparently bad enough to have her turn beet red as she screamed her head off. Worst of all, he had a whole days worth of work to get through still. By the time he got back to his room, he was fed up and ready for the day to be over.

He got in the shower, intent on washing the day off of him with the hottest water the tap could spit out. He turns the handle as far as it'll go and hisses as he steps in.

Aether used to hate the burn, it made him feel like he was being boiled alive, but he figured out two weeks into the tour that if he held himself under the steady stream just right, it felt like Dew's touch. Regardless of their promises to not let the distance change anything, regardless of their late night calls and constant texts, it wasn't enough-- he was still going to fall asleep in their bed alone and Dew's scent was still going to fade from the sheets. If he had to burn himself to feel his mate, then so be it.

He stays until the water runs cold and gets himself into bed soon after. He shuts his eyes tight, getting ready to do the same things he''s done for the past two weeks-- remember the last night he had Dew next to him. He swears that if he thinks hard enough, he'll feel Dew's back pressed against his chest again.

He's just about to fall asleep when his phone vibrates on the bedside table, a text from Swiss. It's short and it makes his chest ache all over again.

We miss you

It's followed by a bright red heart. Before he can respond, those three dots pop up, so he waits for whatever else Swiss is typing out for him. Only this time, it's not a text, it's a video. He thinks that it's just a few clips of whatever city they're in for the night, shots of the venue and all the touristy stuff they did before they had to get ready. He's content to just watch it later, tomorrow when the weight of the day has lifted off of him, but something in him tells him to open it.

He's really glad he listened. The video starts and has him throbbing almost instantly.

"Say hi Dewy," Swiss' voice is gruff, heavy from strain. He's standing in front of the camera, holding Dew up with a tight grip under his knees, spreading his legs so Aether has a perfect view of how Swiss fits in his cunt so nicely.

"I said say hi." His hips snap up hard, burying himself further into Dew who yelps and picks his head up from where he had it resting on Swiss' shoulder.

"H-- hi Aeth" He whimpers as Swiss moves like everything is normal, like he doesn't have his phone set up in front of him and Dew, filming each measured thrust of his hips. With the phone so close, Aether gets to hear each wet and slick slide of Dew's cunt in perfect detail.

Aether lets a hand slip into his boxers, rubbing his palm over his cock, pressing it down against the curve of his belly. He feels himself throb with each and every filthy noise that falls from Dew's lips. His finger mindlessly presses on the volume button, cranking it up till Dew's voice fills the room just like it used to.

"Fuck Dew," He cant help but moan his mates name when he finally wraps his hand around his shaft. He holds himself tight, trying to convince himself he's wrapped up in Dew.

"Tell him how it feels love" Besides his grunts, Swiss has been silent so far. Selfishly, Aether is glad. He wants to hear Dew's pretty gasps, and if Swiss has to be the one to draw them out for now, then so be it.

"He's in deep Aeth," Aether matches his strokes with Swiss' thrusts, bottoming out when he does, squeezing the ruddy head when Swiss pulls out far enough to just leave the tip in. He lets his eyes drift from the slick dripping down Swiss dick to look at Dew's chubby little cock. With his legs spread, Aether sees it perfectly, poking out from his lips, pink and puffy. Probably from Swiss' devilish mouth.

"Wish..." Dew cant get a breath in, not with the relentless pace Swiss has set. "Wish it was you Aeth, wanna feel your cock in me, stretch my pussy around you."

Aether can only groan, hips bucking up, fucking into his tight grip. His slowly growing knot bumps against his fist with every thrust.

"Touch your cock Dew, let him see how much you missed him" A quick hand dips between his legs, gliding over his cunt to lube it up in his mess before spreading it over the fat nub. He whines, high and feminine, and if there were any witnesses, they'd say Aether sounds the same. He's a moaning mess, writhing with his shirt tucked over his tits, letting his nipples harden with the chilly air of the room.

"You'd fill me so fucking good Aeth, press in so deep that I see you through my tummy" All those late nights come back to the front of Aether's mind, the nights with Dew bent in half, leaving him no option but to take each heavy thrust, or other nights with Dew on top, arching his back so they can both see how far Aether is buried in him.

"Get me stuck on that fat knot of yours” Aether answers back, a slurred string of yeah's, nodding his head like Dew can see him. He doesn't know how loud he is and he doesn't care.

"I'd fuck my cum in, fill you with kits," He polishes the ruddy head of his cock, bringing himself dangerously close to the edge.

"He's so tight around me Aether, feels so fucking good" Swiss' knot is obvious now, almost full, and pressing against Dew's hole, threatening to pop in with each thrust.

Dew wants it, so bad, to be broken open on something so wide, made to feel like it's almost too big. He wants Aether to split him open, but it's Swiss he’s got. It’s Swiss buried deep in him. He tries not to think of that. 

"--m close Aeth, let me cum. Please let me cum," Aether loves the way he begs, always so good for him, even half a world away.

"Yeah baby, come on, make a mess for me," He watches Dew go rigid, breath stilling as his pleasure crests over. Swiss keeps his pace, letting the air fill with the sound of skin against skin until that familiar rush of liquid rings through his phone. Aether watches Swiss work him through it, watches him squirt around his dick. He watches Dew's euphoria quickly turn into overstimulation, it’s good, it’s what he’d do too. Dew’s dick twitches in time with his heartbeat. 

Between that and Dew begging Swiss to slow down, its all Aether needs before he's painting himself with pearly white stripes of cum. He works himself through it, stroking slowly before dropping the phone so he can get both hands around his knot. He milks himself until his cock has nothing left to give but a weak dribble.

He sings his praises, tells Dew he's been a good boy, that he takes him so well every time, that he loves him-- he lets the empty air be his Dewdrop for the night.

He lays there with his eyes shut and his hands around his deflating knot, holding on to the last moments of the high, until his phone buzzes again. Another text from Swiss, this time a photo.

It's Dew, curled up under the covers, tucked in tight with a hint of a smile on his face. It's followed by a text again.

We love you. 

He loves you.

#dewdrop ghoul #the band ghost #nameless ghouls #aether ghoul #ghost band #swiss ghoul #dewther #swissdew #dewdrop #swiss #aether #ghost band fanfic #ghost fic #ghost band fic #fire ghoul #dewdrop ghost #dew x aether #dew x aether x swiss #three is a party #vee writes #vee

[nut4shuri]

BLISSFUL NOISE

(18+)

#shuri x female reader

SOMEONE ASKED FOR THE DIRTIEST FIC I COULD WRITE,SO I TRIED..LET ME KNOW WHAT YALL THINK!🤍

Warnings:⚠️Smut,oral sex,Dom shuri..as always,Provocative language,this fic is dirty asf,its filthy and i know yall gone love it.⚠️

~

Shuri watched in awe as you pranced around her lab in your tiny shorts and half shirt,biting down on her bottom lip she flicked her tounge over her lips and pressed her pen up against her top lip thinking of all the dirty shit she could do to you.

As much as she hated you,she wanted you so bad. She played as if she disliked you because you where indeed killmonger's baby sister or a close friend (⚠️NOT HIS ACTUAL BLOOD SISTER! MORE LIKE A CLOSER FRIEND/PLAY SISTER,THIS IS NOT AN INCEST STORY⚠️!!) and as far as she could see it you where part of the reason her brother was gone.

But none of that could shake this feeling,she loved you,she wanted you,she craved you,she touched herself every night just thinking about you,being in you..caressing your beautiful brown skit,feeling her touch lapping at it,her face between your thick thighs sucking at your sweetness. It was all like heaven to her..

"Princess..."your gental voice sounded though her thoughts,till she noticed you stood before her.

Shuri chocked out "What?"

"I just wanted to tell you i had finished the calculations.."

Shuri stood on her feet her figure towering over you a bit as she ran her eyes down your tiny but thick figure,walking past you dismissively she began to scan over something not even saying another word.

But you paid it no mind. She was always like this to you,and as far as you could say you loved it. You liked her dominant personality,and how smooth she was,You liked the way she carried herself,you sometimes imagined what it would be like for her to push you up against the walls and have her way with you.

Inclusive Thoughts... You smiled lightly.

Your imagination ran wild as you took in her figure,wanting nothing more but for her to slam you against the table and rail you.

"Your staring."Shuri sounded out.

"S-sorry.."you said completely embarrassed.

"Don't be sorry,be careful"

"Why would i have to be careful?" You spoke with out any thought. You had quite the mouth and Shuri liked that.

Such a fucking brat..She thought.

"Because you could get yourself into some trouble,not even Bast could get you out of."she said turning your way she smirked at your flushed figure.

"W-"

"Your flushed."she said

"N-no im not.."

She began to walk your way causing you to back away into her desk accidentally knocking over something in the process.

Shuri groaned for a second and walked over to you faster pushing you on to her desk.

"Sh-shuri"

"Y/N..i need you,i need you like i need the air i fucking breath,please let me have you."she begged,her accent making it sound so much better.

"ok."

~

You whined out gripping on to shuris curls as her tounge lapped at your wetness,sucking onto your clit and squeezing your breasts.

She sat in her desk chair and she had you laid out on her table,nipping and sucking on you as if you where her first meal of the day.

Her fingers moving around in you as if she was seaching for something and you moaned out at the feeling.

She moaned into you,as if her bringing you utter pleasure only turned her on even more.

"Fuck it i gotta feel you.." she spoke before flipping you over on your knees,planting a firm smack to your ass making you whine out.

She yanked your head back by your hair,attaching her lips to your roughly.

She pulled away smacking your ass again causing you to moan loud.

"Shhh,you dont want the elders to hear you know do you?" She spoke planting a kiss against your ass.

"Fucking Beautiful."she spat out with agression.

"Im gonna take you now.."she spoke to you as you looked back at her.

How did she even have time to put that thing on..you thought

She laughed a little,rubbing the strap between your folds allowing to circle your clit,then began to push it in slowly.

"fuck.."she groaned lowly as if she could feel it to..(she can)

Gripping your hair harder she steadied her self.

"Put your hands behind your back.."she said and you crossed your hands across your back.

She used one hand to hold your hair and another to hold your wrists.

Not wasting anymore time she began to fuck you relentlessly,moaning and groaning at each thrust.

Letting go of your hair she gripped your ass in her palms and placed firm spanks to it.

Your bodys up against each other,the heat from each thurst made this feel like heaven.

You felt as if you where seeing stars as you bit down on your bottom lip.

~

"Fuck now they can see how pretty you look..how well you take me princess."

Shuri spoke out as she drilled into you her arms wrapped around your waist holding you up against the glass and your arms wrapped around her neck.

She bit and sucked at your neck,that was sure to leave a mark.

Her forehead against your she began to slow her thrust,but made them deeper.

She wanted you to feel all of her..in the best way possible.

You two where going at it for about an hour now,her having you cum over 9 times. You felt overstimulated but you loved it.

"Fuck"she said as she slipped out of you.

She placed you down face to face with her strap and grabbed your hair.

"Show me what that mouth do ma.."she said and smirked.

You looked up at her as you wrapped your lips around it sucking lightly.

Not breaking eye contact,She groaned and pushed your head farther down,wrapping a hand around your neck.

Causing you to chock lightly,your eyes watered as you settled your throat and began bobbing back and forth.

She moaned and groaned out,praising you for how well you took it.

She bit her lip,as she pushed your head away removing the strap her juices began to leak down her legs.

She walked over to her chair sitting down she opened her legs,her pussy full on display for you.

"Come"she said using her fingers to user you over.

Walking over to her getting on your knees.

"Make daddy feel good..and ill make you cum again."she said as she ran her hands over your braids.

Opening her folds you licked over her wetness wrapping your tounge around her clit.

Doing your best to please her you added a finger then another as your tounge slid back and forth over her clit making her moan out.

"Fuck Yes.."

Her back arched off her seat as your fingers sped up and your tounge worked fast..

Her eyes rolled back,and her clit pulsed in your mouth.

"Im gonna cum,fuck" she said as her hands pushed your head deeper in and her hips thrusted up.

"Yes yes yes" she moaned out as she threw her head back and stiffened up.

~

"PRINCESS I-"

Shuri groaned out holding your hips steady as you road her slow and steady,your wetness sliding back an forth over hers.

"Fuck"she moaned out her hand around your neck.

Your clit pulsed against hers as you rocked back and forth making you moan out.

"NOT NOW.."she shouted.

"BUT PRINCESS-" the AI tried again.

"NOT N-NOW"shuri moaned out as you sped up the pace.

"BUT PRINCESS THE GENERAL AND MS.WILLAMS ARE ON THEIR WAY !" The AI shouted though the walls.

You and Shuris eyes widen as you both stood rushing to place on your clothing but you couldn't because the doors began to open so you ran underneath her desk.

"Hello General,Riri-" shuri choked out.

"Hello Princess,Y/N."

Your eyes widen as you cursed under your breath and coughed akwardly.

Peaking your head from underneath the desk.. "Hi guys!"

"Where you guys getting it on?" Riri spoke and The General let out a chuckle.

"Its not funny!"Shuri yelped.

#letitia wright #shuri x reader #i love shuri #shuri udaku #princess shuri #shuri x you #i forgot to put tags

[creelteeth]

idea: maybe reader is touching herself and ofc perv! steve is gonna be a peeping tom and watch her but then he figures out she’s moaning his name and….you can take it from here!

this is one of my favorite tropes !!

perv!steve x reader except steve has no idea that reader is into him.

cw: fem reader , breeding kink, voyeurism, handjob! , bad abrupt ending (i rlly hate writing endings i will never write a good one pls forgive me)

two hours late— steve was two, hours, late, to movie night. it was the third time this week he’d gotten caught up and you were bummed. taking apart the cozy den you’d set up in the living room to go upstairs to bed. by this point it was almost midnight and you figured he just wasn’t coming. he’d called a while ago , saying he’d be there in ten but ten minutes became an hour and you were getting sleepy.

moping your way up the stairs to your room you didn’t even bother locking the front door; small part of you still hoping he might still show up even though all signs pointed to an absent steve. you found yourself laying in bed for a while, unable to fall asleep; your mind far too clouded by the likes of the very person you were missing. steve.

you weren’t upset that he was there, confident that he had a good reason , that he’d make it up to you — but the room felt empty. however, what started as silly little thoughts about missing your best friend soon turned into daunting ones that caused a stir in your hips. images of him flashed through your head. his pretty pink lips, big hairy chest, the sound of your name in his mouth. there were so many things you could fixate on but nothing made you more worked up than the way his jeans fit him.

it was so clear that he had a big cock. you tried to picture it. tried to trace it with your eyes every time he was with you, sometimes you swore you could see the outline of his big fat tip. it was almost enough to make you salivate. wondering what he’d taste like, how it would feel, if you could even fit it in your throat like you so desperately wanted to.

it was about this time that steve pulled up to your house. he knew it was late, and he felt awful but he wanted to see you. needed. to see you. when he pulled into the driveway and saw every light off he contemplated going home but remembered what you said on the phone about leaving it unlocked for him. he couldn’t let you sleep all night with the door unlocked so he decided to check. making his way up to the entrance, twisting the knob for it swing open. welcoming himself inside as per usual.

there were no signs of you still being awake when he roamed about the bottom floor — at least not until he got closer to the stairs. distant muffles came from the second floor. steve could tell it was you, pitiful sounding whimpers echoing through the hall. his heart sank. were you crying? he felt awful. never wanting to make you so upset. he kicked his sneakers off by the door, gripping tightly on the little stuffed bunny he’d brought to you as an im sorry for being so unreasonably late. the further he got up the stairs the louder the noises became.

stopping dead in his tracks on his way to you when he finally got a grip on what was really happening. are you? no. you aren’t. there’s no way you’re doing that. steve felt his cock throb, the noises he thought were coming from a place of upset seemed to be coming from somewhere far different. a good friend would turn around and leave, they’d pretend this didn’t happen to keep from embarrassing you but if we’re being honest — steve has not been a good friend lately.

he crept up to your slightly parted door, careful to avoid the side of the floor that creaked so that he didn’t disturb your filthiness. god — he must be fucking dreaming right now, right? the sounds of your pretty moans mixed with the sticky squelch of your seemingly desperate cunt sent shockwaves over him. he could hear every bit of it. every plunge of your fingers into your greedy little fuck hole made a sickly sound. if only he could come in and help you fix it. teach you how to do it properly so that you weren’t struggling to much to find the right spot.

the crack in your door was small but not too small that he couldn’t see you. fuck, you are beautiful. laying there with your legs apart desperately humping your fingers while the other toyed with your puffy little nipples.

steve settled himself in the shadows of the hallway, pressing the little stuffed rabbit against his crotch. his hips rolling lazily against the soft plush to relieve some of the ache. there was a voice in the back of his head reminding him that this was wrong. that is was disgusting to invade your privacy like this but he could not help himself. he’d gotten this far. you weren’t gonna know so it was fine.

he told himself he was just gonna watch, gonna let you finish then he’d pretend he just got there and act like he missed the whole event. that plan seeming to falter when you started to mutter sentences. he could feel himself leaking through his jeans onto the toy, the tip of his cock desperate for some sort of reprieve. steve chewed mercilessly on his bottom lip, doing his best to not make a sound when he stuffed a hand down the front of his pants. smearing the dampness around the swollen end, his thumb brushing only slightly over the slit. every part of his body craved yours. every bit of respect he had for your privacy had been lost.

your body began to tense up, mouth spewing a string of words. “fuck! oh my god fuck me. please—.. please stevie.”

your orgasm built, eyes screwing shut, thighs clamping down around your wrist. the climax crashing against you like a wave and his name fell from your lips with ease. like it was something you said all the time. unbeknownst to steve, it was.

poor steve didn’t realize that he was no longer being quiet. the groans he was stifling before now much louder. he was blind to the fact that he wasn’t watching you from a soundproof box. his name in your mouth almost making him spill cum all over the gift he wanted so badly to bestow upon you.

it took a minute for you to hear him. when you did you gasped, bringing the blanket up to cover the mess that’d dripped all over the place just seconds prior.

“w-who’s there?” your voice weary, heart thudding in your chest. no one was suppose to be home it was just suppose to be you.

the breathy grunts from outside the door came to a quick stop. familiar voice whispering a ‘shit, shit , shit’ at the notion of being caught peeping. you could hear him scuffle around, the sound of his zipper yanking up made your stomach churn.

“steve?” you called out again, unable to get up from the bed without risking him seeing your bare bottom half. “is that you?“

what on earth is he doing? … did he hear all that?

steve scrambled for a second longer, using his hand to wipe his worried look away before nudging the door open. pretty pink bunny in front of his crotch.

he offered a wary smile, free hand giving you an awkward salute. “uh.. hey, you said , said the door was unlocked i just wanted to check on you. sorry to scare you.”

he did his best to remain nonchalant despite his face being bright red. the little pink toy not doing a very good job at covering the half zipped pants, his swollen cock begging to be set free from the restraints of the denim.

you knew he’d seen you in the compromised position. something about that made you ache. there were so many nights you invited him over hoping he’d stumble in to catch you in such an unladylike position. hoping he’d do something to help take care of the mess between your legs that he caused.

“ ‘s okay… is that for me?” you questioned, eyes scanning over the bunny, and the stretched fabric behind it.

steve nodded stiffly, walking over to hand it to you. he was trying his best not to look down at the part of you that was now covered in the duvet. he knew it was bare under there. slick and swollen too. he could smell it when he walked into the room, the scent of your sex making his stomach burn.

you took the plushy from him, giving it a tight squeeze— nuzzling your face against where he was just using to relieve himself. the faint smell of his musk still lingering on the synthetic fur. you rubbing your face on the toy made him cough, choking on his spit.

“just wanted to drop this off.. i’ll let you get to bed since it’s late.” he felt bad for bolting but truthfully he couldn’t stand to be in there much longer. his cock reaching a point of painfully solid and he needed to get a handle on it.

“no!” you pouted, pulling on his wrist to make him sit next to you. your confidence wavering. “can’t you spend the night? i missed you .. a lot”

steve couldn’t say no to you, especially when you were looking up at him with those big googly eyes. he only nodded, knowing that if he spoke he might choke on his words again. sat next to you, he could hear the wetness between your thighs when you squirmed around beside him.

jeez— he was so clueless

deciding to take a leap of faith, you attempted to mess with him. hand coming up to rest on his thigh, dangerously close to the throbbing area just above it. you could hear the breath leave him, giggling at the way his whole body tensed up under such a light touch.

attempting to egg him on, you snuggled in by his side. your index and thumb grabbing at the half open zipper, tugging it only slightly. “stevie .. your fly’s down.”

he swallowed thickly, hand coming down to grab at your wrist. his brown eyes darkening just a bit. “don’t do that.”

“do what?” you questioned, wriggling out of his hold to continue yanking on the zipper , pulling it farther down. “this?”

he couldn’t reply back, settling for cutting his eyes at you. if he opened his mouth he wasn’t sure what would come out and even now, steve was trying to remind himself that he was a good boy. that he can’t cross these boundaries with his best friend. it’s not right. though you and him both knew that was now in the past.

“were you watching me.. y’know?” you questioned, eyes flickering down to your legs, thighs squeezing together. the question making his face go red. you knew he felt guilty, but the undeniable twitch of his cock gave you all the answer you needed.

now that the zipper was all the way down, you moved up to the button, fumbling with it. “it’s always you that i think about , when i’m doing that.. do you ever think about me too?”

he dropped his head back against the headboard, scooting down to give you easier access to the button that held his pants closed. glossy eyes fluttering shut, giving you a shameful nod. “all the time.”

you popped the button open, moving from beneath the blanket to sit on your knees beside his outstretched legs. his gaze still stuck on the ceiling, partly in disbelief that this was actually happening for him. you grabbed at the sides of his jeans, yanking them down his big hairy thighs, underwear with it. his cock sprang out, bright red tip smacking against his stomach pulling a hiss from him. the sheer size making your mouth drop open. you knew it was big, but not that big.

once the pants were down far enough you climbed over into his lap, one thigh on either side of his muscular ones. “look at me.” you huff, hands resting on his lower stomach waiting to him to stop being so tense.

doing as he was told his eyes met yours, slowly scanning over the rest of you. big warm hands slipping under the sheer little nightie you wore to smooth over your soft skin. “ fuck— you’re gorgeous.”

your back arched into his touch, his softness nearly making you shy away. though your eagerness seemed to take precedence, both hands moving down to grab his cock. you ducked down, spitting on the sensitive red tip, one hand making short shallow pumps at the base while the other spread the wetness around the tip. the sudden contact to his leaky tip making him whimper. the pathetic sound pushing a smile onto your lips.

leaning forward you pressed your forehead against his, your hands making uncomfortably slow strokes of his cock. the closeness of it all made you shiver.

“tell me what you think about when you’re doin’ this to yourself.” your question mixed with the movements of your hands made him moan out, hips rocking up against your touch.

“think about..” he spoke slowly, breathing unsteadily. he was doing his best not to cum right then and there— big hands holding your hips tightly. “think about that pretty pussy of yours.”

his words managed their way out, his head falling against your shoulder. he was coming undone snd you’d only just begin with him. he just couldn’t fucking believe you were doing this.

“what about it?” you asked, kissing a line from his ear to his neck. when he didn’t respond you reached a hand below his cock, giving his fuzzy balls a rough squeeze.

he buried his face in the curve of your neck, whimpering pitifully in response. “think about .. about bending you over the bed and fuck— fucking you raw.”

you hadn’t expected him to succumb to you so easily, but something about the way he was falling apart beneath you was beyond satisfying. your strokes began to pick up. lips, tongue, and teeth working against the tan skin of his neck. the combination of things pulling the most amusing sounds from him.

“raw? you wanna fuck me full of you cum?” the tone of your voice was condescending, almost mocking.

he babbled a quiet string of “yes, god, yes. please,” into your skin.

“bet you wanna fuck a baby into me don’t you? fuck me full of cum.. breed me to your liking,” you prodded him with those words, knowing it was something he loved. you found that out the day you went snooping and found his porn. every one of them revolving around a woman getting creampied

you could feel steve slowly working his way to his end. his heavy cum filled balls starting to swell up and tighten in your grasp but you kept a steady pace, wanting to keep him as docile as possible for as long as possible. soon he was taking matters into his own hands, desperately fucking upwards into your sticky wet palm. he was babbling, practically drooling into your skin, begging at this point to let him fuck you full of his cum but you weren’t quite ready to give that to him yet. rather enjoying milking this sort of response out of himself.

“um gonna—“ he breathed out, but before he could finish his sentence his cum was spurting out. it sputtered out of him and all over your hands. there was so much that spilled out of him it nearly took you by surprise. you kept your hand there, allowing him to fuck the opening for as long as he needed in order to come down from the mess of his orgasm.

after some time he’d calmed down — leaning back against your headboard, utterly fucked out from just a simple handjob. it was incredible. he watched you through lidded eyes; muttering a fuck under his breath at the sight of you licking his cum off your hands, not missing a single drop.

you finished cleaning him off you before scooting up to sit on his lower stomach, kissing his lips that had been bitten almost bloody. he held you closely, as if he couldn’t bear to have any space between you from this point on.

“you know, you should really close the door if you’re gonna masturbate.” he quipped, offering you a lopsided grin.

you gasped playfully, using two fingers to poke at his chest adding emphasis to certain words. “and you, should stop creeping around in girl’s houses late at night.”

#casey answers #perv!steve #when he’s all pathetic n needy :( #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington smut #s.h. #casey writes