freakbabyy

[freakbabyy]

made your mark on me {sebastian sallow x f!reader}

hihi this is the buff seb post-Azkaban fic i promised anon and also possibly @ask-deek lmao

summary: sebastian was taken to prison ten years ago. now he's back, and he's ripped, goddamn

yes all of my titles are going to be taylor swift lyrics i did it as a joke but i don't think it's a joke anymore (also speak now tv, what!!!)

you can tell i got bored after writing the smut bc i did not try to end this properly lmao also i never edit my fics so apologies for the mess, reader is mc but you can ignore it 💀

tws: smut, rough sex (kinda?) p in v sex, handjobs, size kink size kink size kink, muscle kink, creampie, teeny tiny bit of spanking, i think i kinda accidently did a dumbification moment in there too but who knows (i think thick seb is my new kink thanks anon)

The last time you had seen Sebastian Sallow, it was through a haze of tears as he'd been ripped away from you, quite literally.

The chains on his wrists had pressed into the back of your head as he'd pulled you close, pressing desperate kisses to your mouth. Making promises to you that you would see him again, that he'd return to you.

It was heartbreaking, in many ways. After all your efforts to save him from Azkaban, begging Anne and Ominis to let him to continue to live with the guilt, so that you could continue to live with him.

All that work, to be undone by Solomon Sallow's former partner, who just couldn't leave well enough alone.

Sebastian got a life sentence. Your testimony, speaking about how Solomon Sallow had arrived at the catacomb and immediately started casting dangerous spells against two fifteen year olds, got him the possibility of parole.

You and Ominis doubted he would ever be given it, but it was something.

-

After Sebastian was taken from you, you wrote him a letter every day and sent it to the Department of Corrections at the Ministry. They were all returned to you, with the same scripted response. 

'We thank you for your correspondence, but regret to inform you that those serving life tariffs in Azkaban do not get postal privileges. Please find attached the letter you requested to be delivered to Mr. Sebastian Sallow.'

Well, you weren't going to tolerate that.

After everything you'd done for the school, the Ministry, the entire fucking Wizarding World, they were not going to refuse you a few measly letters.

After raising a significant fuss, which included one incident of you outside Headmaster Black's office, absolutely hammered on Firewhiskey, screaming about how you deserved to be able to write to him (and also as Poppy told you later, lots of rambling about human rights and the ethics of withholding contact from prisoners), the Ministry relented. Slightly.

You could write Sebastian a letter once a week. He would receive it and be able to keep it, guaranteed. But that was it. He was not, and would not, be permitted to write back.

And so, you set about writing.

You tried to make your first few letters as wholesome and happy as possible. Talking about the good things going on, and reassuring that while you all missed him, you were all okay.

That only lasted about two months.

You came to hate the idea that he would receive these half-truth letters, meant to inform him of what was happening in your life, and think that you were all doing fine and dandy without him.

You do feel bad about how drastic the tonal shift of the next letter must have been for him.

You poured your heart out onto the page, hemorraghing your feelings in the form of scratchy inky words. You told him how you missed him, how Ominis rarely smiled anymore, how the Undercroft had been empty since he left, how Anne had retreated and none of you could get hold of her. It might have been a hard read, but it was the truth, and that was what Sebastian had always wanted above all.

You kept writing all through your last years of Hogwarts, through the start of moving into your first home, starting your new job, getting a cat.

The Ministry refused to give any information on a prisoner's status unless they were family. That was all well and good once Anne eventually returned.

When she died, it meant you had no way of checking on Sebastian anymore.

You kept writing all the same. You tried not to think about the fact that he could have died in that awful place, and you would never know. You tried not to think about the fact that you may be writing to a corpse.

-

When you're twenty six, Ominis stops by for a cup of tea. This isn't unusual. The two of you have a standing weekly tea break, where you discuss your lives and Ominis gives you all the shameless gossip from his colleagues in the Department of Magical Texts.

What is unusual, is that Natty crashes your afternoon tea.

Natty, as expected from your brave Gryffindor friend, went on to live a life of risk and adventure post-Hogwarts, becoming an Auror.

You're both surprised to see her, but pleased as well, though the news she brings makes your head spin.

Sebastian is set for a parole hearing.

The news overwhelms you, and you half listen while Natty talks. Not only was Sebastian still alive, but there was a chance.

Ominis wonders why, and Natty explains what she heard. Based on Sebastian's young age at the time, the fact that Solomon came out swinging, and the good behaviour Sebastian had shown during his incarceration, they were willing to consider early release.

When you get home that night, you make a final edit to this week's letter. You add your address at the bottom, and let him know you always keep a key under the light to the left of the door.

-

You hear nothing for weeks. That's not new though.

-

You return home from work, absolutely exhausted.

Flicking the hallway light on as you enter your home, you're surprised to see that the door to your kitchen is wide open. That's not usual. Your cat is relentless in trying to eat anything she can, and so the kitchen door is always, always closed.

Taking your wand from your pocket, you approach slowly, heart pounding in your chest. As you enter the kitchen, said heart stops.

There's a man sat at your dining table, and your traitorous cat is asleep in his lap.

"Whatever you've fed her to have her like you so, I will be sending you to the market to replace."

You tease.

The man looks up, and for the first time in over a decade, you are staring into Sebastian Sallow's eyes.

-

The concern you had for his health has disappeared. Somehow, time in Azkaban looks good on him. It was actually sort of impressive.

He had always been taller than you, but when he shifts your displeased cat and stands before you, you realise he now towers over you.

And you have no clue what they're feeding them in Azkaban, but he has put on muscle. A lot of muscle. You think that if a muggle saw him, they would probably think he played rugby.

He also, most importantly, has still not spoken.

Sebastian stands as if he is a statue, some carved marble piece representing the Adonis he looks like now. His eyes are locked on yours.

He finally speaks.

"I promised I'd come back to you."

He paused a second, doubt in his eyes.

"Is this okay?"

He opens his mouth to continue speaking, and you're in his arms before he can, and you're sobbing.

"I thought you were dead for so long, and I've missed you so much."

You're on your tiptoes so you can grip his face and press kisses to his face, and he has a hand in your hair, one on your back, and he's laughing giddily, and you don't think you've felt this happy since before he was taken from you.

He wraps his arms under your backside and lifts you so he can hold you against him properly, and all you can think is that it is very attractive to feel his well-built body against yours.

You wrap your arms around his neck and your legs around his waist, using him as leverage to lean back and look in his eyes.

Sebastian smiles at you, and you are entranced by the way his freckles move with the action.

"Is it too forward to ask you if I can take you to bed?"

It is not.

-

Sebastian has you pressed against the bed five minutes later, and he is kissing you like he does not need oxygen, he merely needs you.

You unbutton his shirt slowly, running your hands over his broad shoulders as you push his shirt off of his torso. He pulls away from you, gasping for air as he pulls your blouse over your head.

You kiss against his jaw as he nips at your neck, leaving marks as he trails a path down to your shoulder.

You don't mind. Everyone's always been able to see you were his anyway. It's just further proof of the fact.

He takes your nipple into his mouth, rolling his tongue around it, as you arch, and whine, and desperately pull at his belt.

Sebastian's hands find your hips, pulling your skirt and underwear down as he trails his fingers down your thighs.

You finally undo his damned belt and get him as equally naked as you. The sight stops you in your tracks.

Sebastian is tall, and built, and proportionate. His cock is lengthy and thick, and intimidating.

You've been bedded before, but they have never been as... impressive as Sebastian clearly is.

He puts a finger beneath your chin, lifting your head to look in your eyes.

"What's wrong?"

You flush.

"I don't think...  I will be able to take that."  You speak quietly.

Sebastian rolls his lips together, clearly amused and pleased at what he is taking as a compliment, and you slap his arm playfully.

"This is not funny!"

He kisses you, trying to soothe your concerns.

"We don't have to do this if you don't want to, but if you do, I can make sure you're properly prepared for me. Trust me."

You trust him.

You nod.

Sebastian's big hand leaves your chin, running down your body to move between your thighs. He slids a thick finger against your slit, gathering the wetness there.

"Shall we give you my fingers, before we try you on my cock?"

You nod dazedly.

His thumb finds your clit, and his fingertip enters you. You move your hips in a desperate attempt to force his finger in further, and he slaps the outside of your thigh. Not hard enough to hurt properly, but enough to sting for a second after.

"Behave. You will take what I give you. And if you want me to give you more, you know what you need to do."

You do know.

"Please, Sebastian, please, I need you, I need your fingers, please."

He groans at your words, speeding up the movement of his thumb against your clit as the rest of his finger slides in.

A moment later, he pushes in another, and you whine at the stretch. Another moment, another finger. You have never felt anything like this. He makes a scissoring motion with his fingers as he presses down with his thumb, and you are gone, crying his name as you go.

When you come back to your senses, his fingers are still inside you, but his other hand is running over your hair comfortingly.

"We can stop. But if you don't want to stop, do you think you're ready to take me?"

You nod, and he smiles at you. It's funny, considering he's a convicted murderer, but you've never felt so safe. You're aware that's probably a thought you should keep to yourself though.

He stands from the bed, and you groan at the loss of his body. He laughs at your neediness, before gripping your thighs and pulling you to the edge of the bed so your legs hang off.

Grabbing your ankles, he pushes your legs up over his shoulders as he leans forward, bending you almost in half. His cock rubs against your slit and you moan.

"Are you ready for me?"

You nod again, you don't think you've been more ready for anything.

He pumps himself, using your wetness still on his hand and his own pre-cum to make sure he's properly lubricated, before he pushes inside you deliciously slowly.

You gasp at the stretch of his length, and though you trust him, part of you still thinks you may not be able to take him fully. He bottoms out inside you a second later, hips presses against yours, to prove you wrong.

Now that the initial obstacle of you taking him is dealt with, he is ruthless. His hands find the dip of your waist, and he uses his hold on you to pull you back and forth on his cock relentlessly.

You'd probably feel a touch used if you weren't loving the way it felt as well.

One of your hands buries itself in his hair, and you grip hard to pull his face to yours, biting at his lip while your other hand leaves scratches down his back.

You watch the muscles in his arms move as he moves you, the veins in his forearms becoming prominent from the tightness of his grip. You'll definitely have bruises tomorrow in the shape of his hands. You can't wait to see them.

One of his hands leave your waist to return to your clit, and the other pulls you fully flush against the base of his cock, before sliding around under your back to lift your hips slightly. He begins thrusting into you wildly, and you can tell he's close, but with the new angle, all you can think about is the spot inside he's slamming into again and again, and before you know it, your cunt is gripping him like a vice as you climax, practically screaming.

The feeling makes him groan, and he somehow speeds up even more, before you feel him release inside you as he lets out a 'fuuuuuuck'.

You stay connected for a moment, before he pulls out of you and falls back onto your bed, tugging you with him to rest on his toned, freckled chest, pressing languid kisses to your mouth.

You definitely have things to talk about. They can wait 'til the morning.

[freakbabyy]

(Poppy sneezes)

Ominis: Bless you

(MC sneezes)

Ominis: Are you sick? Here, let’s wrap you up in a blanket and feed you some warm soup! You poor thing!

(Sebastian sneezes)

Ominis: For Merlin’s sake, must you.

[freakbabyy]

Ominis & MC by Pasta As Avatar

[freakbabyy]

The Hogwarts Legacy gang sitting down for Christmas dinner

MC : In my family we call them Christmas crackers.

Garreth : Bon bons!

Sebastian : Festive exploding anxietysticks.

Ominis : Neglectful and traumatic childhood, nothing to contribute.

MC :

MC : Sorry I asked.

[freakbabyy]

You Were The First

Ominis Gaunt x f!Reader

Word Count: 3.9k

Summary: Ominis Gaunt has never known affection. He has never known how it felt to love---to be loved. She came and changed all of it.

Or, Ominis gets love because by god does he deserve it.

Warnings: Mentions/Implications of child abuse

God, I loved writing this. Thank you so much for the request, anon!

When Ominis Gaunt fell in love, he fell slowly. 

It was all the little things she did—the little things that made up who she was. Her kindness. Her patience. Her touch. 

Before meeting her, touch meant nothing but pain. It was kicking and screaming as his mother dragged him along by his arm, harsh shoves from uncaring hands toppling to the ground, a cruel hand curled over his own, taking any control he might have and forcing a curse out of him. 

He’d been avoiding it ever since. Even Sebastian and Anne knew his aversion, careful not to grab him or brush against him. 

But somehow, she made his walls come tumbling down. 

-

Perhaps he started to fall that first time she saved him a seat at breakfast. 

It was one of the first breakfasts of their sixth year—the Great Hall was bustling, students running back and forth to catch up with friends and share adventures from over the summer. That was exactly what Sebastian was doing; he could hear his friend’s loud laugh as he spoke to someone at the Hufflepuff table. He’d expected her to be doing the same, her popularity as the Hero of Hogwarts was unmatched. Surely everyone would want to know what she’d been up to. 

He’d just settled on the idea of grabbing an apple off the table and leaning against the wall well out of harm’s way when a voice called out to him. Her voice. 

“Ominis! Ominis, right here, I’ve saved a seat for you!” 

His mouth fell open—just slightly. “You… you saved a seat…?” 

“Yes, now get over here before Sebastian barrels past and steals it, I wouldn’t put it past him,” she said, smile obvious in her voice. 

And so he obliged. 

He settled down on the bench, all thoughts of retreating to some far corner vanishing as she began to rattle on about her summer. In turn, he answered all her questions about his own time, best he could with the way his head was spinning. Of everyone in the school, she had saved a spot for him. She allowed him to take all her time, steal away every morsel of her attention. There was a lightness that came with that thought. A warm feeling he couldn’t quite name—not yet. 

But now that he’d felt it, he knew he’d starve for it. 

-

The next step into his descent was the first time she placed her hand on his arm. 

Herbology was always a bit chaotic—not nearly as much as Potions, no thanks to a certain Gryffindor—but chaotic nonetheless. Professor Garlick had laid out all the necessary tools and supplies on each table, and after her brief explanation on how to prune and shape the plants in front of them, she set them loose. 

Sebastian stood to Ominis’s right, grabbing some small cutters and starting on his plant quickly. 

“Sebastian, you’re making a mess of it already. She said to start from the top and go down, didn’t you hear a word she just said?” a voice said from his left. 

Ominis chuckled. “Since when has Sebastian ever been one to listen to anything?” He reached forward, grabbing his own cutters. He heard his friend grumble under his breath. “Don’t pout, you know I’m right.”

“Doesn’t mean I’m not offended by it,” Sebastian said. 

“You’re offended by everything, Seb,” she said. 

“What is this? Attack Sebastian Sallow Day?” 

“No, but I’d be an avid celebrator if there was such a thing.” 

As Sebastian continued mumbling complaints, he felt it—her hand, just barely resting on his arm. “Sorry,” she said softly, leaning forward and across the table. “I’m just grabbing the fertilizer.” And then her touch was gone. 

It was nothing. Just a simple indication that she was there, making sure a blind man didn’t accidentally stab her with a sharp object. And yet it felt… different, somehow. His skin was tingling as he tried to resume his work with the plant. It was only later he realized that, unlike so many times others had made a similar motion, he hadn’t flinched or pulled away. 

In spite of himself, he sort of wished she would do it again. 

-

He came to a realization the first time she explained a Quidditch match to him. 

The realization was thus—she was even more kind than anyone he’d ever met. It was her very first match, and she had been elated to attend after Professor Black had announced the continuation of the sport at the beginning of the year. Normally, Ominis wouldn’t care too much about it. He rarely went to matches in previous years, only being dragged along by Sebastian when Slytherin was up in the running to take the cup. Crowds weren’t his thing. And trying to understand anything that was going on based solely off the oohing and ahhing of a crowd gave him a headache. But this year, Sebastian was making his debut as Slytherin’s Keeper, and that paired with her excitement to see the match was enough to draw him out to the stands. 

They sat next to each other, nestled into the crowd of Slytherins eagerly anticipating the game. He could only imagine how high up they were—there had been plenty of stairs to indicate it was nothing insignificant. The breeze that high up was cooler, and Ominis was grateful for it, allowing himself to focus on it instead of the people pressing in all around him. 

But when the match started, his focus shifted entirely to the soft voice next to him. 

In the past, he had always found the commentary on the match entirely unhelpful, and even more uninteresting. He could never get a picture of what was going on—the announcer would always press opinions on players and use the names of the different plays, which was ridiculous because Ominis had no clue what any of the plays meant. 

She, on the other hand, explained it all wonderfully. 

She wasn’t perfect—not even close, stumbling over words and gasping at times when an action surprised her. But for the first time, Ominis could follow. He found himself cheering, breath catching as he heard the whoosh of a broom overhead. The tone and expression in her voice was so lively, so dedicated, he wanted to take part in it. 

“Weasley’s flying fast toward the goals,” she commented. “Blimey, he should be Seeker with that speed. Imelda’s flown into his path, he’s going to crash—No, he dodged her, straight over her head—he’s throwing the Quaffle, come on Seb—YES!” 

He let out a cry of celebration as his friend beside him whooped and hollered, cheering loudly for Sebastian. It wasn’t long until they won the match, and the crowd of Slytherins roared like a raging sea. He followed her out of the stands and into the common room, where a party was already commencing. Sebastian managed to break away from his adoring fans. The Hero of Hogwarts leapt up and nearly pushed him over in a wild embrace. Sebastian laughed. 

“You were wonderful out there!” she said, pulling away. 

Ominis could hear the grin in his friend’s voice. “I couldn’t let your first match be a disappointment, now could I?” His feet shifted, turning to Ominis. “And really, Ominis, thank you for coming. I know Quidditch isn’t your favorite.”

“If I’m honest, I rather enjoyed myself,” he said. He nodded his head toward her beside him. “This one has a knack for explaining the game. She told me enough that I can sincerely say, well played.” 

“Then seems like you’ll have to go to all of the matches together,” Sebastian said. 

Ominis frowned. “Well, I wouldn’t want to impose on—”

“No, I like that idea,” she said. His heart beat a bit faster. “I want you to be able to enjoy it just as much as the rest of us, Ominis.” 

He couldn’t stop smiling the rest of the night. When Sebastian asked about it, he blamed it on having too much Butterbeer.

-

When he let her lead him by his arm that very first time, he knew he trusted her. 

He’d known for a while—but now, through his actions, he had admitted it to her. To himself. 

Winter had set in. The two of them left the Three Broomsticks, bundled up and ready for the cold. He reached for his wand, pausing when he heard her speak up beside him. 

“Your hand is going to freeze holding it out like that all the way to the castle. I can lead you, if you’d like.” 

He pondered it for a moment—only a moment—and then he gave in. 

“If you think it’ll keep me from getting frostbite.” 

He sucked in a breath as her arm looped around his. How had she done it so gently? After a second, when he’d begun to breathe properly, he nodded. “Off we go, then.” 

It was strange, how he had surrendered so easily. When he had first gotten his wand, the world finally felt livable. He no longer had to shuffle around, arms outstretched, waiting for his brothers to jump out at him. He could fend for himself. Prove his independence. There was no longer a need to rely on anyone. 

Why did he rely so effortlessly on her? 

The truth came to him with a sudden thought as she took him through the streets, navigating expertly through the throng of students returning to the castle. He trusted her. She had always looked out for him. Cared when he felt no one else did. She made efforts to be around him, to involve him, even when he tried to push away. Ominis Gaunt did not trust easily. But she had proved herself worthy of that sentiment in every turn. 

The slight tug of her arm in his jolted him back to that moment. “We’re at the stairs,” she said quietly. “There’s six of them.” 

He’d trust her with his life. 

They seemed to walk closer and closer together as the castle drew nearer. It was the cold, he told himself. Just the instinctual craving for warmth drawing their sides together. Simple as that. 

But they still walked arm in arm through the halls of Hogwarts, leaving the excuse of the chill and snow far behind them. 

-

The first time she held his hand, he finally felt alive. 

Their sixth years had come to a close and the Hogwarts Express was waiting to take them home. They’d spend the last few months in what he considered bliss. They stopped looking for excuses to take each other's arms at some point—just letting it happen. Strolls on the castle ground. Between classes. Anywhere and everywhere they went together. Sebastian teased them a bit at the action, but Ominis claimed it was just easier than using his wand. He didn’t have to concentrate on a spell while walking about. It was true—but really, it hadn’t been inconvenient the five years before that, had it?

But now his dear friend gave a low sigh beside him. “This crowd is awful,” she said, glowering at the students around them. “I don’t know how we’re going to make it on the train in time.” 

“I’m sure we’ll be—” 

He stopped mid sentence, feeling her fingers interlock with his. 

“I think I see a path, come on now.” 

She nearly tipped him over as she pulled him along. He managed to remember how to walk just in time to catch himself, allowing her to lead him through the hustle and bustle around them. How did this feel so entirely different than being led by her arm? How could he only focus on how soft the skin of her knuckles felt under his thumb? How could he feel like he was dreaming, but never felt more aware in the same moment?

They stopped in front of the train, doors open before them. She didn’t let go. Neither did he. But the train let out a whistle, and the sound brought him back in an instant. Their hands dropped, and the loss of the intimate feeling of her fingers between his knocked the air out him like the perfect Depulso. 

“We made it,” she said softly. 

“Barely.” 

She laughed. He might as well have been a fish for how much he was struggling to breathe. “I’ll see you soon,” she said, voice softening. 

“I wish I could say the same,” he said, smirking. He felt her hit his arm, stifling a laugh.

“You’re awful.”

“You’re the one who laughed.” 

“Goodbye, Ominis,” she said, still chuckling. After a moment, she spoke again, a little quieter. “I’ll write you.”

His stomach flipped. “I’ll hold you to it.”

Then she was gone, taking part of him with her.

-

He knew he was in love the moment he got her first letter. 

What was it some fool had once said? Absence makes the heart grow fonder? What a load of dung. 

Absence made the heart ache so much it nearly killed him. And it had only been a day. 

He knew it was from her the moment the lingering scent of her perfume hit him. He smiled. She kept her word—he had never doubted she would. He was just relieved she had done so so soon. 

Quickly, he pulled out his wand and transfigured the words on the parchment, running his fingers over them. He paused where she had written his name. Every letter filled him with warmth as he poured over the short letter. 

Dear Ominis,

I realize we only saw each other yesterday, but I wanted to assure you it wasn’t an empty promise when I said I would write you. 

I really don’t have too much to share—my mother was more than pleased to see me, of course. Wailed when I came home as if I’d come back from the dead. She’s still not used to me being away for so long. I’ve just begun unpacking, and honestly, it just makes me wish I was back at Hogwarts with you and Sebastian. 

How are you? I do hope you’re alright. I worry about you going home, you know. I can’t help it. I’ll be inviting both you and Sebastian to my home as soon as I’m settled in—please do survive until then. 

Yours,

He closed his eyes as he felt her name beneath his fingertips. She was worried about him. She’d be inviting him. The warmth and elation he felt was so unlike the cold halls that surrounded him. He could survive—he’d do it for her. 

How she could make him feel happiness—hope—in a house so tainted with pain was beyond him. He never would he have thought he could have a moment of something good there, a memory worth keeping after he abandoned the place. 

Finally, he had a name for that warmth, the one that overtook him every time she crossed his thoughts. Love. Deep, profound, and lasting. It was more than he could have imagined, overwhelming and pure. How could he have lived to this point without it? 

He read the letter once more before pulling out his quill and beginning to write. 

-

The first time he thought she might feel the same coincided with the first time she laid her head on his shoulder. 

She had kept yet another of her promises. It was only a couple of weeks before he was off to her house, finally free from the suffocating marble halls of the manor. His escape lasted only for ten days, but it gave him what he needed to keep going. 

Though being with her was definitely what fueled him the most. 

Laughing with her and Sebastian made the stress of being around his parents melt off of him much faster than he would have imagined. Their ten days had been full of exploring the woods around her house, of playing Gobstones, of laying in fields and telling old stories. 

Ten days of her hand brushing his as they sat together. Ten days of catching his breath when she spoke. Ten days of falling harder than he ever thought possible.

Because now that he knew what it was he was feeling, it was there in everything she did. He was drowning in it, and he’d stay under with a smile on his face. 

Sebastian bid them farewell on that final evening. Ominis would be gone back home in the morning—he tried desperately to push that thought away, focusing instead on spending every moment with her he could. They’d wandered to the overgrown park not far from her home, coming to rest on a bench hidden away in the trees. Crickets sang around them, and Ominis basked in the cool summer night by her side. 

“Are you going to be ok when you go back?” Her voice was hardly more than a whisper. 

He gave a small smile, one he hoped was reassuring. “I’ve lived this long. Two more months will be nothing.”

She sighed. “It won’t be a full two months. I’ll make sure of it. If you can’t come here again, we’ll go to Sebastian’s.”

“You worry about me too much.” 

“I think I worry just enough,” she stated simply. 

Her words made his chest time. How could he ever begin to explain what they meant to him? She cared for him. It was enough to shatter him if he let it. He couldn’t say what he wanted to—not yet. He’d find a way, someday. But he told her what he could by reaching for her hand, locking their fingers together. And when she leaned into his side, head coming to rest on his shoulder, maybe, maybe, that was her way of saying she understood. 

His stiff body slowly relaxed against hers, and he thought about nothing but the slow draws of her breath, the way her hair tickled against his jaw, the love he felt for the angel of the girl sitting pressed against him. 

-

The first time she held him he fell apart. 

Their little trio had stayed up late in celebration of their last school year, playing Exploding Snap well into the night. The Undercroft echoed their joyous sounds as the hours passed by, until Sebastian pulled himself away, saying he wanted to pay a visit to the Restricted Section for old time’s sake. It wasn’t long until she and Ominis were saying their goodnights to each other. 

It had been a perfect last first day, exactly what he’d needed after spending so much time at the manor. He’d left for what he was determined to be the last time. There was no better way to celebrate. 

He could think of no better way of ending it than saying goodnight to the girl he loved. 

“Goodnight,” he said softly, a small smile on his lips. 

“God, I missed you,” she breathed. “Goodnight, Ominis.” 

But before he could open the door, her arms wrapped around his chest. 

The result was immediate. His heart raced, and his throat grew tight. He couldn’t breath—how could he, with her holding him so tightly? Her head was against his chest, and for a split second he was afraid she might pull away when she heard the pound of it. It was that moment of fear that brought his arms around her, holding her to him like he had nothing left. 

It felt like dying when she pulled away from him. She sucked in a breath. “Ominis, are you alright?”

“What… what do you—”

“You’re crying.”

She was right. He felt the tears, now, traitorously running down his face. He quickly brought up the sleeve of his robe to wipe them away. 

“Is it something I did? I’m so sorry, I didn’t—”

“No,” he said quickly. “No, you’ve done nothing wrong.” He took a shuddering breath. “I just… You’re the first person who’s ever…” 

Ever what? There were a million ways he could finish that sentence, and all would be true. The first who had ever held me. The first who has ever cared so deeply. The first to touch him with nothing but kindness. She was the first person to break down his walls, to give him life, to let him love and be loved. 

Somehow, she seemed to understand his silence. She took him into her arms once more, and he let himself come crashing down. Sobs worked their way through—both sadness and joy mingled together in an utter mess of emotion. How could he have gone his whole life without this? Without feeling safe, without outstretched arms to run to? But he had found it. A person he could call his home, who would hold him when he fell apart. He was grateful. So grateful. 

They never went back up to their dorms that night.

-

He was determined today would be the first time he kissed her. 

Since that night in the Undercroft, every touch between them felt natural. Part of their beings. He came to her effortlessly, letting his arms pull her to him. His hand felt foreign when it wasn’t in hers. But yet, he had yet to confess the depths of his feelings for her. 

He knew exactly why—she was patient. They’d started this whole thing nearly two years ago now. She’d always gone at his pace, waiting for him to be ready for each new step. They didn’t need to say the words. It was obvious to both of them. But Merlin, he wanted to. 

She needed to know just how much she meant to him. The joy she brought into his life without even trying. It had been a long time coming, but now, he was ready.

He’d taken her out to Hogsmeade. It was the perfect spring day—cool breeze carrying the scent of Butterbeer clear out of the Three Broomsticks. The sun was just beginning to set, and they were on course to return to the castle when he stopped her. 

“Could I take you somewhere?” he said softly. 

“Of course,” she said, a little perplexed. He smiled, taking out his wand to guide the both of them, other hand still in hers. He led them down a path, then turned sharply into the woods. The trail he followed was light barely there, mostly grown over by foliage. But he heard the sound of the creek and knew he was close. 

The trees gave way into a small opening, the melody of water trickling just beyond it. He smiled. 

“It’s lovely,” she said. 

“Good. I hoped it would be.” His wand returned to his pocket, and he took both her hands, facing her. 

It was her turn for her breath to catch. It was only fair after all the times he’d done so because of her. Did he look as lovesick as he felt? 

“You are everything to me, do you know that?” he said softly. His hand reached up, following the curve of her neck up to her jaw, where it came to rest. “Everything.”

“Ominis…” 

The way she breathed his name sent shivers through him. And her breath on his lips—Merlin, how had he waited so long?

“I love you.” 

He didn’t give her a chance to respond—he’d let her say it soon enough. But he needed to prove himself to her, show her just what he meant when he said everything. His lips came crashing down against hers, and at that moment he decided every second not spent kissing her was a second wasted. Like everything about her, she was gentle. She was warm. She was soft. Like everything about her, he couldn’t get enough. He thought he’d give her a chaste kiss, but he was only a man, and a starving one at that. 

He only pulled away when his lungs felt like they would burst, and his chest heaved under her resting hand. 

“I love you,” she said, voice hoarse. “God, I love you.” 

He decided that night would be the second time he kissed her, too. 

After that he lost count.

[freakbabyy]

ominis would be like such a cat if he was trying to court you. poor boy has no experience with what a loving romantic relationship looks like. he'd just leave you little gifts on your bed that are way too expensive and brush against your hand ahla mr. darcy until you got the hint

[freakbabyy]

𓆩☆𓆪 | 𝙾𝚄𝚃𝙻𝙰𝚆 ⸺ ⚞𝚁𝙴𝙸𝙽𝙴𝚁 𝙱𝚁𝙰𝚄𝙽 ⚟

⸻ synopsis ⫸〖 it's not every day a criminal breaks into your home, huh?〗

⸻ warnings ⫸ sm*t. 18+ wild west!au. part i of the gold rush anthology! bar-maid!reader. robber!reiner. black-coded reader. female reader. afab anatomy. p*rn with plot. full nelson position. fingering. a bit of dacryphilia. reiner threatens reader with a gun. the two of them get comfortable with each other really quick. reader calls her mother a bitch in this. reader was raised by her late grandmother cause her mother abandoned her. Erwin is in this, who was also raised by reader's grandmother. sheriff!erwin. erwin sees reader as a niece/daughter. annie and bertholdt are also in this, but they don't matter.

⸻ writers note ⫸ this has been sitting in my drafts for the past two months because I wanted to finish the next part of the anthology. I just finished the Erwin one, so I'll upload it when I'm halfway done with the Eren one or fully complete it.

⸻ word count ⫸ 5.7k

masterlist. | next part in the anthology |

Heavy boots sunk into the mud, and loud voices called out to the dark forests. The sounds of horses neighing, catching up against his hunched-over form. He ran as fast as he could, dodging the trees and branches, boots snapping the sticks and stones within the wet ground. Hand clutching the bleeding wound, he glanced around, looking for something, anything to get him out of this situation. His partners were long gone, taken into arrest by the law. They told him to run, to get out while they distracted them. 

He tried his best to blink away the tears, the sudden burn possibly due to them being mixed with the sweat dripping down his face. He’ll get the rest of them out, he resolved, he first has to survive this. Glancing up and around, a large shadow was right up ahead. Squinting, the blur came into focus, before revealing a small home. It was well kept, but all the lights were out, which was all Reiner needed. He jumped the fence, flinching at the sudden stab of pain in his abdomen. He limped towards the back door, pulling out his old trust lock pick before jimmying with the lock. He hissed out a yes as the door creaked open, before hobbling right inside. Gasping, he leaned against the door, hearing the sounds of the law running by. 

“What the…”

A voice called out, before suddenly, a dark glow illuminated the room, revealing a decently sized kitchen. A gasp rang out, as Reiner looked to the light, seeing someone standing there. 

Fuck…

He pushed himself up to his feet, immediately running over to you, who immediately screamed before running away, possibly to your bedroom. Despite his injury, he had just enough adrenaline to catch you, pulling your arm back. He muffled your screams with his hand, wrapping you in one big hold as he dragged you away from the hall, before taking you right back to the kitchen. He could hear your muffled whimpers against him, the feeling of your body shaking against him. 

He pressed his lips against your ears, “just stay quiet for me darling, and all will be right.” 

Reiner pressed himself against the counter, waiting for the sounds to go away. As he did so, he could hear your own sounds beginning to quest, however, the feeling of wet salty tears began to soak his hand. Just as they were beginning to go away, a sudden loud knock came out the door, jilting the both of you. 

“Y/n, it’s Erwin, are you awake?!”

Reiner cursed under his breath, heart pounding away at his chest. He stepped away from the counter before looking at the door, seeing a tall figure standing right at the door. He then looked back down at you, before telling you not to scream. Slowly he let go of your mouth, removing his hand from you before grabbing the top of your dress, wiping away the slowly drying tears on your face. 

“You gon answer that there door, and pretend like I’m not here. Say whatever you gotta say, alright…?”

You nodded your head quickly, and he nodded his own, before taking you by the hand and draggin you over to the door. He stood at the side, one hand still pressing against the wound while the other, pulling out his revolver, holding it up. You glanced over at him, seeing him nod his head. Taking a deep breath, you reach over, unlocking the door with the key still stuck on the knob before opening it up just a little bit, enough to see the sheriff of your town. Erwin Smith, a man both you and many people in this town respected. He was very close to your family, especially your grandmother, having helped her many times while she was still alive. So seeing him and talking to him was an easy occurrence for you.

“Hello there Erwin,” you let off a smile, hoping it wasn't wavering too much.

He let off his own warm smile, “hey there cherie, hope everything’s okay?”

You nodded your head, “everything’s fine, was just about to head to sleep when you knocked.”

For kickers, you looked behind him, seeing a bunch of horses and men standing on the front of your lawn, “what’s going on here?”

He looked back to see the people before looking back at you, “well we were trying to catch someone, and he ran right through here. I was hoping you saw something?”

You pondered a bit, before shaking your head, “haven’t seen a thing sheriff, sorry. Everything was dark for me.”

He hummed, before reaching down, pulling out a sheet of paper, “if you're so sure, take this. His name Reiner Braun, a dangerous felon known for robbin’ and shootin’ people.”

You slowly took the folded sheet, before peeling it open, those familiar eyes brown malice staring right back at you. 

You looked up at Sheriff Smith’s warmer ones, smiling, telling him you’ll keep on the lookout for him. He nodded, before turning around, and heading back to his own horse. As you waited to watch him go, you could hear a sudden thump right beside you. Closing your door, you glanced over to the right only to find the very man now slumped on the floor. The hand that was holding his side was now soaked with blood, the sounds of his slow, heavy breaths echoing in the living room. You glanced over at the door, at the muffled sounds of the sheriff telling his men to move out and continue looking before looking back at Reiner.

Letting out a defeated sigh, you walked away heading towards your kitchen before going to your sink and picking up an old tattered rag. Dampening the rag, before grabbing a bucket, and filling it up with hot water. Before walking back to the dangerous criminal, you bent down, grabbing the small bucket your grandmother deemed an aid kit, along with the bucket of hot water. Walking back to your living room, where Reiner Baun, which was apparently his name, was now writhing and bleeding out on your grandmother’s hardwood floors. Bending down, sitting at your knees, you grabbed the dirtied dress shirt he was wearing before slowly unbuttoning it. His large body dripping with sweat, you removed the shirt as much as you could, revealing the irritated wound. 

You took the rag, leaning down before removing his bloodied hand from the lasting wound. Slowly, you pressed it against it, applying as much pressure as you could. He fought against you, but his strength greatly dropped, allowing you to continue to press against it. He let out deep heavy groans, all dripping with pain. Soon, the tattered rag was soaked with blood, removing it before dipping it in the hot water, washing off most of the blood before pressing right back on. Soon, the wound stopped bleeding, just enough for you to get the gauze and the large sheets of cotton to wrap it. 

Once you did so, staring down at your shotty work of a doctor, Reiner’s own eyes slowly opened, looking over at you. 

“Should have let me bleed out on your floor,” he let out a low raspy groan, still in pain.

You scoffed at that, “and let you ruin my grandmother’s floors? She’ll rise up from her grave to scold me with a hot comb.”

He let out some formance of a chuckle, smiling a bit. Taking a deep breath, you stood up before heading down your hallway Stopping at the small closet, you owned it before taking the few spare pillows and blankets out. Walking back, you found the area where you left him empty before seeing him rest right on your couch. Pursing your lips together, you walked over to him, before handing him the blankets. 

“Here, sleep as much as you can, then I want you out of my house, all right now?”

He blinked at you, smirking before taking the sheets and pillows from your hands. 

“Thank you mighty kindly, cherie,” he cooed, placing the blankets on the couch beside him. 

You hummed, before glancing back at your kitchen. He’ll probably need something to eat so he can heal faster… is what you thought to yourself before walking towards the kitchen. He said nothing, only turning his body as much as he could, watching you walk away. His eyes lingered on your backside, before looking away, focusing on his accommodations for the night. 

Pulling out some bread, some meat, and other things from your ice box, you made him a couple of sandwiches. You took it to him as well, seeing him all laid out and spread out on your couch. Tongue poking out your cheek, you handed him the plate. 

“Just for you to heal faster, body can’t work without something to fuel it,” you said, turning around once he took it. 

He said nothing, although his smirk said all his words for him. You took the lamp that illuminates the kitchen, before walking away. Just before you walked inside your bedroom, his voice called out to you, 

“Good night, cherie!”

You turned your head and glared at him for a few seconds before walking back into your room. He let out a chuckle, before taking the sandwich, taking a large bite from it. 

Slowly opening your eyes, the feeling of sunlight beaming through the trees and through your window jolting you awake. Lifting yourself up, stretching with a smile on your face as you look around your room, ready to clean yourself up and head into town for work.

Three… two… one…

A frown immediately overtook your face, oh wait…

Pushing yourself off your bed, and grabbing your robe off of the bed frame, you flung your door open. Slowly stepping into the room, carefully listening for anything that didn't sound like your creaky footsteps. As you reached the living room, no sign of the man from last night on your couch. Glancing around, not seeing him in your kitchen or hearing him in your parlor room either. Nothing was missing either, luckily. Least he had that courtesy, you thought to yourself. 

That’s when your eyes caught onto something sitting on your kitchen counter. Walking towards it, eyes widening as your eyes locked into two stacks of cash sitting one by one, a piece of paper sitting under it. 

Picking up the paper, you gazed over it, 

For all your troubles cherie, now and in the immediate future, 

⸺ r.b

You couldn’t fight off the excited smile, as you picked up one of the stacks, sniffing it before squealing. 

“Oooh, my mother would tell me to return it… too bad that bitch wasn’t the one who raised me!” 

You placed the money in a hidden area in your room, before getting ready for work, which was at a bar in town, the only one within the area you lived in. The town was large, a farmer’s town with miles and miles of land tended by a multitude of farmers all around. It would probably be called a city to others, but you weren’t like them city folk. Wearing a creme dress, shoulderless with loose, wave-like sleeves. You paired with skin-colored pantyhose while placing your work shoes in a bag. You put on your walking shoes and grabbed your keys and other things you need before heading off, locking up the entire house, especially your back door. You walked through the pathways in the forest, glancing at all the heavy footsteps and horseshoe grooves within the damp ground. 

You soon made it to town after fifteen minutes of walking, waving at the locals around town before making it to your destination. Despite it being early in the morning, the bar was bussing with all different walks of life. Smiling at the bands of men calling out your name, waving at them before arriving at the bar. You shuffled into the bar, waving at your friend, who was serving three people at once. She owned the bar, inheriting it from her deadbeat of a father. The two of you had been friends for a long time, ever since your mother had sent you here when she moved to the “sophisticated” parts of town. 

“Hurry up and get up here! There’s orders to be taken, you know!” She said, giving one man his tall glass of beer. 

You headed to the back room, placing your bag down, before switching into your taller heels, with cotton-padded into them for a bit more comfort. You’ll be on your feet all day. Looking in the mirror, swiping your lips with gloss before placing your long plaits into two pigtails, tying them with matching creme bows before walking out. As you walked out, you grabbed an apron, tying it around your waist as you took your station around the bar. 

Your friend sighed in relief as you helped her out, taking the few plates in her hands before asking which table they went to. 

“The Garrison boys over there in the back, and there should be a few more coming out.”

Nodding your head, you took them down, plastering a smile on your face as you approached their table.

The morning continued like that and continued well into the afternoon as well. Your job was a rush, but the pay was very good and included a mountain of tips as well. As night approached, things slowed down just about as all the men soon had to return to their wives or head down to the secret club behind the old platoon which their wives didn’t know about. The door chimed open, glancing up and only for Sheriff Smith along with a few of his men standing right there. 

Glancing over, you see your friend tidying herself up, pulling her long locs out of her deflated ponytail, and letting them fall. Smirking at her, with her not even looking at and flipping the bird before carefully walking over to the area they had overtaken. As she spoke, having a shimmering smile while she looked down at Erwin who sent her his own award-winning smile right back. You looked back down at your work, which was wiping down the counter and preparing for you to head back home. Your shift was over soon since your coworkers didn’t like you walking back while the moon was too high at night. 

They had once asked you to consider actually moving into town, but you wouldn't have it. This was the home you were raised in, the home your grandmother had raised your own mother in. 

“Cherie, wait a moment,” Erwin’s familiar voice called out to you, just as you put the rag away, preparing to head to the back room to get your things. 

You turned around, seeing the tall man tower over you. You don’t know why, but your heart began to slightly pound. 

“Can I help you, sheriff? This ain’t about last night, isn’t it?”

He grimaced a bit, “m’fraid it is, lemme walk with you to the back?”

You glanced over at your friend, who looked between the two of you, shrugging her shoulders and nodding her head before focusing back on the others in the bar. The two of you walked together down the small hallway before reaching the small room where all the workers had placed their own things. He opened the door for you, thanking him as you walked inside the room. As you found your things, Sheriff Smith began to speak. 

“As you know, last night, we were chasing a very dangerous criminal, who had reached the forest where you live.”

You nodded your head, “yes, and you knocked on my door and you asked me if I had seen anything, and I told you that I had not.”

He nodded his head, “yes, yes you did. We continued to look through the forest, but he was gone. Like he disappeared within the wind, cherie…”

You nodded your head, “yes… is there something else you wanna say, Erwin?”

“This morning my men conducted another search, to make sure we didn't miss anything, and we found heavy footsteps… leading away from your home.”

Your heart dropped to your knees, lucky your back was still turned away from the sheriff so you turned to pack your things, flinging off your shoes as you pretended nothing was wrong. 

“Heavy footsteps, leading away from my home… is there something you wanna say, sheriff?”

Heavy boots walked closer and closer to you, as you turned around and faced him, face calmer. 

“I just wanna know the truth, cherie, you know you and I go way back. Your own grandmother helped raise me after my father died. You're like a niece to me, and I hate to see you in some trouble.”

You took a deep breath trying to calm your beating heart, however before you could say anything, the door suddenly slammed open, revealing an out-of-breath officer. 

“Sheriff, the other two thieves escaped their cell!”

The tall man cursed, hissing under his breath before running out of the room, not even glancing back at you. Once he was gone, hearing the muffled sounds of the rest of his men following suit after him, you let out a breath of relief. You soon walked out of the room, grabbing a box of food from one of the chefs for dinner. You waved goodbye to your boss, before walking out of the bar, the cooler air of the night hitting you. It was still hot, so there was no need for a jacket as you walked away, heading towards the forest into your home. The walk to your home was quicker than the walk to the bar, soon arriving at your home. As you began to pull out your keys, you could hear muffled sounds inside the home.

No…

Inserting the key, you flung your door open, seeing three figures lounge around on your grandmother’s couch. 

Locking eyes with familiar hazels, seeing him smirk before lifting up his glass, holding a beer, “hey there, cherie.”

You could almost scream. Instead, you stepped inside your home, closing the door before dropping the bag right onto the floor. You glanced around the room, seeing your table and floors all messed up and dirt tracked all over your floors, and you could almost guarantee that your icebox was nearly empty. You stepped over the trash, ignoring the two unfamiliar pairs of eyes watching as you approached the larger blonde man. 

You stared down at him, with him looking you in the eyes. Unbreaking your stare, you pressed your hands roughly against the side of his waist, right where the wound you wrapped was. He cursed, screaming as you did so. 

“Yeah, that’'s what you get, now y’all better clean this fucking house or else!”

The two others with him snickered at Reiner, seeing him being kicked around by you. Hearing their laughter, you turned towards them, eyes sharp in glares. 

“Don’t think I ain’t forget yall yet, yall get up too and clean this fucking house! Or else, I’m getting Erwin down here!”

Immediately the two of them shot up, one of them towering over you all like a giant. You pushed them all around, making sure they picked up all the trash and scraps they had put on your floor. You rested on your couch, entertaining yourself while you ate your food, still hot luckily. They were kind enough to chop up some wood for your fireplace, enjoying the warmth as they picked up the last of their mess. Once they were finished, the two unknowns had plopped down onto the couch, while Reiner made himself comfortable right beside you. He leaned down, mouth wide open, trying to get a bite of your food, but you pushed him away, grimacing as he laughed out loud. 

“Think you can fuck up my house, and eat my food, you have another thing coming,” you mumbled, eating the bit on the spoon. 

“Aww come on cherie,” he mumbled, landing his head on your shoulder, “i'm still hungry!”

You rolled your eyes, “go and find something else to eat, maybe in prison, where you all belong.”

He smirked, “and yet, you still hadn’t turned us in, cherie. Plus, I paid you kindly for your services, thinking that “immediate future” was a joke huh?”

You rolled your eyes again, scoping up the last bite, before hovering the spoon in front of his face. He glanced in between the spoon and your face, before eating it, humming as he did.

“Thank you kindly, cherie.”

Ignoring the warm feeling his raspy voice gave you, as well as the looks the two others gave each other before glancing back at the two of you. 

“How long you are staying here, Reiner, along with your two little friends, because Sheriff Smith is sniffing around me,” you gasped slightly before extending your hand, smacking him in the head again.

“Hey!”

“Be careful where you stepping when you leave next time, cause they was sniffing around and saw your fucking footsteps!”

He suddenly smirked, “‘next time?’ huh?”

You narrowed your eyes at him, before raising your hand at him again. He immediately held his hands up and surrendered, scooting a bit away from you. Annie and Bertholdt snickered, looking at the two of you. Getting up, walk towards your kitchen to put away your bowl. Reiner followed after you, a teasing smile on his face. Cleaning off the bowl, drying it, and putting it away, feeling him stand dangerously close behind you. Drying your bowl before pushing past him, heading towards your living room. 

“So I’m assuming you're staying the night once again?”

Reiner nodded his head, leaning against the wall, “hope you're alright with that, cherie.”

You narrowed your eyes at that, “didn’t I tell you to stop calling me that?”

He shrugged his shoulders, tucking his hands into his pockets. You glanced over at the three of them, before rolling your eyes.

“I’m gonna take a bath, y’all better figure out how y’all gonna sleep.”

You sat amid your room, ignoring the sounds of the felons taking shelter within your home. Sitting at the vanity table your grandmother had the in-town carpenters built for you when you turned fifteen. You looked over at the set of picture frames, mostly filled with photos of you and her, one with Erwin as well. Picking up one of the picture frames, the last birthday you were able to celebrate with her before she passed. 

“Is that your grandmother?”

Screaming, jerking up, knees hitting the table, as you turned, seeing blonde hair in your peripheral.

“God, don’t do that!”

He stood straight up, watching you as you turned around in your seat, still holding the frame. 

“And to answer your question, yes, yes it is.”

He held out his hand, and tentatively, after glancing between his face and his hand, placed the frame in his hands. He looked down at it, smiling a bit at your wide smile, arms wrapped in the smaller frame of your grandmother. 

“The two of you look alike,” he says, handing you the frame.

Your mouth curls up into a slight smile, and you place the frame back on your vanity, “everyone used to say that about us, and that used to include my mother as well.”

His eyebrows quivered at that, “your mother? Is she still alive?”

You scoffed, rolling your eyes, “yep, sipping on fancy margaritas and livin it up in the big city with her rich old-ass husband.”

“Forgot she had her own mother and a daughter too, didn’t even come for the funeral, even after me and Erwin sent letters.”

He hummed, “Sheriff Smith?”

You nodded your head, “after his own daddy died, my grandmother watched after him. My mom and he were sweethearts once, but she decided this lil ole town was too small for her but taking care of her daughter was too big for her.”

“What about your father?”

You shrugged your shoulders, “never met the man, grandma always told me she’d wring him by his neck if she ever saw him again. Says he’s the reason my mother took off to the city and never looked back, but I think she was putting blame on anyone but her.”

Facing the mirror, the lamp illuminated the side of your face. You could see Reiner still standing behind you, his face cut off from the mirror. Crossing your legs, feeling a slow, churning throb in between your legs. 

“I like to think she would have helped you when you first arrived at my door, despite threatening me with a gun. She always had a knack for getting in trouble, and helping people who didn’t deserve to be helped.”

You could feel his hands beginning to rest on your shoulders, his actions not stopping your spiel. 

“Which is why, had my mother come through that door when she was still alive, she would have taken her back in on the spot.”

He hummed, leaning down towards you, seeing a few of your tears rolling down your cheeks. His face lingers over your shoulder, looking over at you. You glanced over, looking at him straight in his eyes.

“Sorry, didn’t mean to rant about my life, you’re still a stranger technically.”

You began to move away, but his hands tensed, keeping you right in your seat. His left hand moved from your shoulder, sliding across your chest, reaching up to your neck. Letting out a shaky breath, shivering as he moved your head back towards him. 

“Don’t gotta apologize, cherie,” he mumbled, thumb stroking your cheek.

Your body turned as well, your leg swinging over the bench as you faced him fully. Your body, responding to some unknown force, leaned forward towards him as he leaned closer to yours. 

“Reiner,” you gasped, right before he rushed forward, lips capturing yours.

The kiss was deep, and heavy, as his hand stayed tight at your neck, his other, sliding down your body. He grabbed at you, pulling you right into his lap. Your moan was muffled by the kiss, your hips slowly grinding into him. His hand soon left your won, settling right on the other side of the bottom before effectively picking you up. Unremitting as he approached your bed, placing you right on it. For a moment, he let go of the kiss, reaching down and unbuttoning his shirt, before pulling it off his body. As he threw his shirt onto your hard-wooden floors, your own hands reached up to his buckle belt, feeling his erection press up against his jeans. Reiner smirked down at you as you unbuckled, sudden haste pushing you. Getting the tough fabric off, Reiner did the rest, leaving him in nothing but his boxers. 

He soon leaned back down, climbing in between your legs before capturing your lips into his once again. Your hands slid up to his face, the feeling of his scruff against your hands and face. His hands slowly slid up your thighs, going right under your nightdress, gripping at your waist, pressing further into you. You could feel him pressing into you, the feeling intensified by the pressure he placed on your waist, easily keeping you grounded against him. His hands soon left your own, one pressing against the back for your thigh, pressing it as far as it goes. The other moved down your dripping wet pussy, two large fingers easily spreading your lips with ease. Gasping for breath, immediately choked on a moan as he pressed one finger, entering slowly within you. He moved from your mouth to your neck, as he moved his fingers in and out of you slowly. His lips were still wet, allowing him to leave soaked kisses against your skin. 

“Reiner,” you gasped, fingers weaving into his hair, messing up the blond strands. 

Back arching as his pace quickened, the lower half of your body trembling under him as you pulled harder against him. He whimpered against your skin, the feeling of you pulling his hair eliciting a deep feral feeling within him. Everywhere was heated, the air, your skin, your thin nightdress bunched up at your waist. Drool dripped from your tongue as you took everything he gave you, everything and more. 

“Lord,” you sighed, body aching all over, “I really shouldn’t be doing this, lord.”

Reiner chuckled, “I can go ahead and stop, if you need me to?”

You twisted your hand in his hair, “you bet not.”

He said nothing, chuckling one more time, but his kisses continued, trailing down to your chest, dipping into the valley between your chest. At the same time, he pressed another finger into you, your arousal coating his fingers. Your slip dress had long fallen off your shoulders, allowing him to reach them with ease. His journey continued down lower and lower, his hand still lingering on your thigh sliding down. The two of you hadn’t noticed the lantern dimming in the background, as the room was soon engulfed with darkness, nothing but the high moon shining over the two of you. Shuddering, twisting against your blankets as he plunged his fingers deep inside you, resting his head against your stomach. 

“Damn, didn’t think you’d be good at this, fuck…” you sighed, as your hips surged up into the air. 

“...that a challenge, cherie?”

Despite the immense arousal and pleasure flowing through your veins, you smirked down at him, “take it as you want, cherie.”

His eyes darkened, his unrefined look getting more and more feral. Reiner suddenly pulled his fingers out of you, taking a quick sniff before placing them in his mouth, tasting your arousal. Suddenly, he rose up, towering over you, before grabbing both of your legs. Squealing as he pulled you up from the bed, easily carrying you into the air. His hands grasping at your ass as he held you up, holding you up in the air. Your hands couldn't help but wrap around his shoulders, looking down into his eyes. 

“Reiner, what are you doing—” you started before being cut off by a loud gasp escaping your lips. 

You hadn't noticed him shifting his boxers, before feeling him sink into you deeply. Your sounds hadn’t deterred him though, his tight grasp on you as he moved you up and down his cock. The sounds of your moans echoing through the mid-sized room, the feeling of your tight wetness, only urged him more, deep, raspy moans spilling from his own mouth. His fat cock stretched out in ways others hadn't yet before, muddling your mind as he moved in and out of you. His brute strength allowed him to pull you nearly off him with ease, before plunging right back into you. His hips slamming into you, the possibility of leaving deep dark gnarly purple bruises all over your inner thighs. 

“Sosososo good, sos deep, oh my god!” Your mouth slurred on their words, head thrown back in euphoria. 

“What was that you were saying before?” he suddenly questioned, pulling almost completely out of you, leaving only the tip. 

Gasping, whining at the sudden prolonged loss of him. Your whines and squirms did nothing for him, only smirking up at you as he awaited your answer. His hands fondled you, squeezing your bottom rigidly.

“Tell me how good you feel, and maybe I’ll continue.”

Convulsing, aching for him to continue, your resolve fully crumbling. Reaching out towards him, your shaking arms attempt to pull him towards you. 

Your mouth spelling with pleas, “please please don’t stop, god I take back what I said. Keep fucking me just like that.”

He took in your words, his smirk getting wider and wider as you twisted, tears threatening to fall down your face. With no other words, he slammed back into you and continued pummeling you as if nothing happened. You clung onto him, and your head was thrown back as he did so. Reiners's efforts and actions electrified you, feeling your body jerk, a familiar pounding feeling building up within you. 

You let out a gasp, before letting out, “Oh god!” hissing as you came, clear liquid spilling out of you. 

Your cunt clenched around him, causing him to groan deeply, grounding his face into your shoulders as his thrust became erratic. His unsteady movements caused you to choke, his heavy breath rumbling right into your ear. 

“So good, fuckfuck,” he growled, slamming into you a few more times before letting off one final groan. 

Letting out a shaky moan, feeling him suddenly pull out of you, feeling his release land right on your stomach and thighs. Breathing heavily, legs shaking as he slowly lowered you onto the bed. Reaching over, grabbing his shirt that had landed right on your bedpost, using it to wipe away the mess. 

“Can’t have you getting pregnant now?” Is all he said, wiping away his mouth. 

You rolled your eyes, smacking him on the head as he threw his shirt back onto the floor. Just as you began to cover yourself up in your sheets, you felt movement beside you. Looking back, seeing Reiner getting into the bed with you. 

“Aht! What the hell you doing?! If you don’t get out?!”

“Aww, come on cherie, don’t make me sleep out here on that little couch. Nearly broke my back the last time I slept there. Plus,” he added, gesturing down to his wound, “I’m still wounded.”

You narrow your eyes, “didn’t seem like you were injured just a few minutes ago.” He still didn't budge, causing you to roll your eyes at that, “fine, but you better make some damn breakfast before you fucking leave.” 

He smirked, agreeing to your demands before continuing to pull the blankets up and around the both of you.You turned back over, snuggling into the bed, feeling Reiner’s weight shifting beside you. His eyes burned into the back of your head for a few seconds, before suddenly feeling an arm sling over your body. You rolled your eyes but suppressed the smile appearing on your face before snuggling yourself into his warm embrace

taglist: @kanekisfavoritegf @daisynik7 @where-the-blackbirds-sing @nathalunalune @secretanimesimp @kentucky-fried-me @levin4nami @liv-vy @mortqlprojections @invisible-mori @desiray562 @liliorsstuff-blog @sophiiluvvs @magictrump @ventdavi154 @ircngirl @lostinbeidou @missmadness123 @introvered-violinist @dior-fawn @saway4ma @reallongwire

[freakbabyy]

[freakbabyy]

Erwin, coming into Levi’s office: “Levi we have important measure to discuss—“

Levi, coughing, his face on fire as he struggles to remain calm: “Erm- yes what is it?”

Erwin, glancing up and down: “Y/n’s is under the desk aren’t they?”

Y/n, muffled: “No.”

Y/n, pops head out: “I’m behind the curtains actually 🙄”

[freakbabyy]

Heisenberg/4 lords Theory

SO ! I’ve saw this theory about Donna’s eyes that are grey or a pale blue. So I wanted to check if that was correct and.. 

“Many people die with their eyes open, and when the whites of the eyes start to dry out they turn blue or gray.”-DR Melinek 

‘After death, a person’s iris features will vanish along with pupil’s dilation, as the iris is a muscle’

‘While the actual color of the iris does not change colors, a hazy film forms over the eyeball which can give it a blue or gray appearance.’

So if that is correct what about Alcina’s eyes? In her preview photo her eyes are golden but then in game, they are blue? So is the theory correct also for her? 

But I want to focus on Heisenberg here. 

Talked to my friend that studies biology, we both agreed on that eyes turn blue/grey but Heisenberg… 

Here is a picture so we can CLEARLY see his eyes. So in this picture you can see they are, like the description, grey but also has a bit of green still there.

BUT

In the Trailer his eyes are more green than a blue.

What does that tell us.

Don’t trust Capcom cause look at Alcina’s eyes on the picture promo and then in game, they aren’t the same and we see that phenomenon again with Heisenberg,

That his original eye colour is green are hazel/green colours,

and that the hazy film didn’t form yet/or is slowly. (specifically to the trailer picture)

So, now that we have settled that Karl’s eyes are slowly fading to that blue/green colour, what could it mean?

All the other lords have the blue/gray feature that are way more prominent to Karl, for example, Donna’s eyes are straight up grey 

Example right here, her eyes are blue/grey meaning she must be one of the oldest lords (also hinted with her clothing style) with Alcina. Why with Alcina? Well her portrait clearly show that she has lived through a lot of years, more than a normal human can live for.

So she must’ve been alive in the beginning of the 20th centaury. 

Then we follow by Moreau, or Moreau was the first and was a ‘failed’ experience to Mother Miranda, ether way, Salvator had a bad reaction to the Cadou whatever way or which time it was put in him. 

And finally, Heisenberg who was the last to receive the Cadou. Theories say that he was born in/after the second war which hints that he could be the youngest out of the 4 as well.

I also wanted to add the other reason why I wanted to write this.

His insecurity about his eye colour fading.

Why do you think he wears sunglasses in the middle of winter?!?!

He knows that they are changing, he knows that he dying. 

How does he knows it?

He works with dead body, from fresh ones to old bones if he is missing any. He KNOWS how it work and he is seeing the process going on with his own body, of course he is gonna HATE IT. 

As his insecurities come in play, his hate for Miranda grew even stronger, so he hides his eyes through the sunglasses.

I also want to point out.

I don’t think Karl EVER took his sunglasses off around the 4 lords but only to Ethan. I think Karl wanted to have intimacy and put his guard down to show Ethan that he is on his side, that they co-operate and help each other.

The small details tells you a lot about a character. 

—-

Anyhow, thank you for reading this and i hope you enjoyed it! 

-Chlo

[freakbabyy]

trace the outlines of your dreams

jean kirstein x f!reader

summary: Jean saves you in the midst of a bloody battle, and in the aftermath, you both figure out some important things—the impending end of the world be damned. [set during episode 85]

word count: 4.9k

content: 18+ ONLY, NSFW, best friends to lovers speed run, unrequited love? jk its requited, blood + injuries, protective jean, but UNprotected sex, rough sex, jean's big dick, fingering, praise kink, dry humping, light dom!jean vibes, creampie

In the years that have passed since you first joined the Scout Regiment, you’ve imagined a thousand different ways you might possibly die while bearing the weight of that damned winged insignia on your chest.

A thousand ways you’d go down fighting tooth and nail, bloody and battered but with the knowledge that, at the very least, you’d tried to help make a difference.

But after all this time, you still hadn’t thought you’d make your last stand here of all places: cornered in the narrow space between two looming buildings by three of your former comrades—now Jaegerists—struggling to stand on your own two feet and virtually defenseless. 

They advance on you slowly, snickering as your smashed ODM gear refuses to cooperate, not any sort of state to function after how hard you were tackled against the unforgiving brick building mid-air just moments ago. Your gear absorbed a decent amount of the blow, enough for all of the important bits to be irreparably damaged, but not before your head took a hit as well. Warm blood drips down your face, and you blink hard against the wave of dizziness that threatens to overcome your senses. 

The futile step you attempt to take backward has you gritting your teeth, ankle barking in pain, protesting that you’re asking any more of it after the impact your legs took when you landed on the dusty gravel. You consider calling out for the others, but you know they’ll never hear you over the chaos of the battle that’s unfolding, the roar of the Titans reverberating deep in the marrow of your bones. 

Maybe you’ve finally run out of your share of borrowed time. 

The Jaegerists continue to close in on you, snickering at the way you try to steel yourself even in the face of oncoming death, and your mind goes quiet for a moment as you let it settle on one last thought—you hope that if nothing else, Jean lives to see this through to the very end.

He deserves the quiet life he’s always wanted. 

“Oh, it’s you.”

A shudder runs down your spine as a voice full of disdain sends your attention careening back to the present. 

Floch.

The Jaegerists hastily sidestep as the red-haired man swiftly pushes his way between them, blood that you’re certain doesn’t belong to him smearing across his brow as he runs a hand through his hair and offers you a grin that’s downright feral. With a dismissive wave of his hand, his comrades take their leave back to the roof and into the fray of battle. 

“I was upset when I realized that you left me, you know,” he drawls, reaching out to brush his thumb over your jaw.

Your stomach roils, and Floch clicks his tongue when you turn away from his touch, firmly grasping your chin. You can feel the warm, sticky blood his fingers leave in their wake as he continues, “I had a feeling Jean might betray me. But you? How could you?”

The rough feeling of brick digs into your shoulders as he crowds you against the wall of the building, his breath hot against your face. 

Floch was always a little too interested in you, even before things really started to go to hell. At least that’s what Jean always grumbled, anyway. So when you finally, briefly, deigned to give him the time of day, if only to help your fellow comrades pull one over on the Jaegerists before making a run for it, you should have known the volatile man would be anything but forgiving when he realized you’d been batting your eyes and swaying your hips to distract him.

“Get your hands off of me, Floch,” you growl, the anger flaring up inside of you at odds with the rapid, terrified beating of your heart.

Floch blatantly ignores you, choosing instead to run a finger over your bottom lip, and the coppery tang of blood seeps into your mouth. You stifle the urge to gag, knowing how badly he wants you to flinch. 

“It’s a bit sad…how you’ve always followed Jean like a loyal little lap dog. Waiting and waiting for him to notice you, too fucking stupid to realize he’s obviously in love with Mikasa.”

His words hit you like a slap to the face.

Your knees threaten to give out beneath you under the weight of a truth you know you can’t look away from. Not now that someone’s finally said it out loud. 

You really hadn’t thought it would end like this—with a whimper.

“We could have had something, you and I,” he rasps, leaning in so close that his lips nearly brush over yours. “If only you weren’t so busy drooling over Kirstein’s dick.”

“I would have never picked you, Floch. Not now, not ever,” you whisper, eyes boring into his with one last shred of defiance as the world beneath your feet begins to ripple, your body feeling the effects of the blood loss from your head wound.

Something dark flashes in Floch’s eyes. “Kirstein probably won’t even realize you’re gone when I’m done with you. What a shame.”

You suck in a breath as he reaches a hand down to grasp a blade, willing your body to rally just enough strength to surge forward and tackle him. At the very least, you could go down with a fight. 

…but when the quiet, familiar whine of a wire and the deliberate crunch of boots along gravel is followed by the one voice that you know the cadence of by heart, you realize that you won’t have to. 

“Get your fucking hands off of her.”

A blade gleams at Floch’s neck as Jean Kirstein steps up behind him, your best friend’s eyes burning with rage. You can’t help the sob that rips from your throat when his expression softens ever so slightly when he steals a glance over at you, though his jaw ticks when he notices the smear of blood the other man left behind on your face. 

For all Jean’s hesitation about this leg of the mission, his uncertainty about his ability to take the lives of his brainwashed comrades, you know that he’ll kill Floch right here and right now. You can see it in his posture, the utter stillness of his body. The way this entire moment feels utterly frozen in time as Floch realizes it, too. 

And even if part of you wants it, wants to live out whatever’s left of what might be your final days knowing that Floch finally got what was coming to him, you know it’s not worth the risk. Not when shouts have begun to ring out from your friends, urging everyone to get to the ship. Not when you know Jean will hold the other man back with his bare hands so you can escape without him, if that’s what it comes down to. 

So it’s the subtle shake of your head that determines Jean’s next move, one that doesn’t involve his blade and Floch’s throat. Instead, with nothing but the element of surprise on your side, Floch is blindsided by the foot you drive between his legs with all your might, white-hot pain blooming from your ankle at the impact. The moment that he drops down onto one knee, groaning, is all that Jean needs to pull you to him. 

“Jean,” you choke out, his name caught somewhere between a gasp and a sob as you collapse into him and fist your hands in his shirt, clinging to him like a lifeline.

“I’ve got you,” he murmurs, protectively wrapping one arm around you as he engages his ODM gear and carries you both toward the docks. And despite all of the chaos unraveling all around you, you swear that you can feel Jean’s heart pounding in his chest just as hard as your own. 

The next few hours after you set off to sea are a blur, your body still shaking with adrenaline as various sets of hands examine your injuries. Everything feels a little fuzzy around the edges, and the most you can really register is the warm press of Jean against you all the while and the tickle of his hair along your cheek each time he growls at someone to be gentle when you groan in pain as they clean and dress your wounds. 

It’s dark out when you finally come to, the fog in your mind parting as you wake up to find your limbs tangled in a scratchy wool blanket. You sit up, the thin mattress creaking beneath you, and rub at your eyes as they adjust to the dim lighting in the room. A small lantern sits perched on a table nearby, illuminating a cup that you can only hope contains water. Exhaling a quiet sigh of relief when you tentatively place it to your lips and confirm your suspicions, you drink heavily, only pausing at the sound of footsteps scuffing outside of the doorway.

“There’s another open room next to Conny’s,” you hear Armin say.

“She’s staying with me,” Jean’s voice cuts in, brokering no room for argument. 

You put the cup down and settle back onto the bed, watching as the sliver of light from the outline of the door grows when Jean carefully steps into the room, pushing it shut again behind him. 

When he realizes you’re sitting up, he swiftly crosses the room, coming to sit beside you on the mattress.

“You’re up,” he exhales, sounding relieved.

You offer him a small smile, hyper aware of the way his knee brushes against yours, heartbeat thundering when he reaches out to tilt your chin toward him. Vaguely, you wonder if you’re dreaming. 

“Your head finally stopped bleeding,” he comments, eyeing the bandage on your head. 

Right.

Mentally kicking yourself, you meet his gaze, willing your voice to stay steady as you say, “Thanks for saving me, Jean.”

One of his hands finds its way to your leg, fingers softly curling over your knee. “You know I always will,” he murmurs, echoing the promise he’d made to you years ago when you both joined the Scout Regiment. 

In another life, maybe that version of you would be selfish enough to grasp Jean by his collar and kiss him right here and now for those words, pretending you misunderstood their meaning. Words that could mean so much more in another context, were it not for the stark line of demarcation between your feelings for him and the reality of your friendship. 

Maybe you’d climb into his lap and try to make him forget all about her.

Even just for one night.

“I feel like you shouldn’t be thinking so hard after splitting your head open,” Jean comments with a chuckle when he observes your furrowed brows, gently pressing his fingertips to your temple as his attention shakes you from your thoughts.

“Sorry, it’s just been a long day,” you lie, feigning a stretch for good measure.

Jean drops his hand back down to his side as you shift, looking sheepish. “Long week, long year. You’re telling me. I think we both need a vacation.”

You snort, finally willing yourself to ask, “How’s Mikasa?”

Jean tilts his head to the side at the question, eyes narrowing a bit. “She’s fine. Armin’s a little worse for wear, but he’ll heal up soon.”

You nod, turning your gaze to the corner of the room. “You don’t need to stay in here with me tonight if you want to go and keep her company. I’ll be okay.”

Your best friend looks nothing short of perplexed at the clear insinuation in your words. “...why would I do that?”

“Because you…” you trail off, not sure why it’s so hard to verbalize Jean’s crush to his face.

Jean’s fingers brush along your cheek, urging you to look at him. “I what?”

You huff in annoyance, not sure why he’s making you say it outloud. “You and Mikasa…”

“There’s no ‘me and Mikasa’,” he says plainly. 

Heart thundering in your chest, you glare at him before looking up at the ceiling in embarrassment and exasperation. “And there’s not ever going to be if you don’t get it together and tell her how you feel before we all die here.”

Jean clicks his tongue against his teeth, and your entire body goes still at the sudden feeling of his hot breath caressing the shell of your ear, “But she’s not the person I’ve been too much of a coward to tell how I feel.”

What?

“What?” you breathe out, whipping around to face him, the air swiftly leaving your lungs when you realize just how close he is, the tip of your nose brushing against his own.

Jean’s thumb traces your lower lip. “It’s always been you.”

At a loss for words, all you can manage to get out is, “Why now?”

“I used to hope you’d find someone that’d convince you to leave the Scouts and live a safe life behind the walls, something I couldn’t give you.”

Your heart aches at that, knowing that’s the life Jean always wanted, too. The one he left behind knowing how selfish it would be to waste the talent he could offer to the Scouts.. 

And perhaps it makes sense now—the way he’d subtly tried to find ways to hint that maybe you shouldn’t join the Regiment after all, all those years ago. The conflicted look of pain in his eyes the first time you’d proudly worn the Wings of Freedom.

“I didn’t think I could ever be enough to deserve you,” he continues. “Not even now.”

Hearing the uncertainty in Jean’s voice throws you off-kilter; it’s a far cry from the confident man you know him to be. You can’t help but offer him an incredulous look in return, baffled by the irony of it all—he’s the only person you care to spend the rest of your life with, after all. 

Even if this is all you have left—these last few days, hours, moments. 

A choked out sound leaves Jean’s mouth; apparently you said that out loud. “So you’re telling me…”

He cups the back of your head, eyes searching your face.

“...I should have done this…”

His other hand finds yours, fingers lacing together.

“...a long time ago.”

A shudder crawls down your spine at the feeling of Jean’s lips brushing atop your own. It’s a tentative touch, one that you press back into between one breath and the next. And as you sigh against his mouth, your own fingers reaching up to tangle in his hair, Jean stops holding back.

Legs hanging over the edge of the bed, Jean swiftly pulls you into his lap, his arms wrapped tightly around you as his lips chase yours with fervor. You straddle him, basking in the warmth of his body heat pressing into your own, savoring the rough press of the calluses on his fingers—built up from years of using the ODM gear—as he explores the expanse of bare skin on your back where your shirt has bunched up.

You can hardly be bothered to break for air as Jean’s lips slot against yours, toes curling against the mattress when he licks his way inside of your mouth. He groans as the kiss grows messier, your body arching into his at the feeling of his tongue tangling with your own. 

Once upon a time, you’d exclaimed that nothing could compare to the feeling of finally mastering the ODM gear, the exhilarating rush of clearing rooftops and treelines with such seamless precision. The swelling elation in your chest to finally understand what it feels like to fly.

It’s a feeling that you’ve chased for years, the feeling that’s carried you through each and every battle to this day.

Kissing Jean feels like that—like flying.

But there’s no anchor here. No wires. No blades at your hips nor enemies at your back.

With Jean’s lips on yours, you float untethered, the weight on your shoulders and heaviness of your heart long forgotten passengers left far below as you soar. 

And you let go, freefalling. Knowing beyond a shadow of a doubt that he’ll catch you. 

He’ll always catch you.

Jean’s lips part from yours to blaze a hot trail along the curve of your jaw, pressing kisses along your neck. Dragging his teeth along the sensitive skin where your earlobe meets the hinge of your jaw, his voice is rough as he murmurs, “I love you.”

There’s a hitch in his breath when you say it back without hesitation—it’s a truth you’ve always known yourself to feel, even if you could never tell him as much. He pulls you impossibly closer, fingers digging into your hips, mouth seeking yours out once more.

And as you feel his growing hardness beneath you, you can’t help but pointedly rock into the cradle of his lap, a breathy moan leaving you at the pressure of his cock rubbing against you. The sensation and Jean’s own answering moan draw up memories of all the nights you spent imagining this, face buried against your pillow to muffle the sounds as you fingered yourself to thoughts of your best friend right there in your bed in the barracks. 

If your lives still held any semblance of normalcy, maybe you’d prolong this endeavor, taking your time to savor the taste of Jean’s mouth on your own first before anything else, exploring him in bits and pieces. 

But with what may very well be the end of the world looming far too close for comfort, there’s no time for patience. 

“Can I…do you want to…?” Jean trails off, breathing heavily as his fingers toy with the hem of your shirt, the rest of the question dancing in his eyes as he’s clearly having the same thoughts as you are. 

“Jean Kirstein, if I die without fucking you—”

He doesn’t give you the chance to finish your sentence, cutting you off with a kiss as his hands find their way to your breasts. He’s barely begun to squeeze them before you break apart from him for a moment, slipping off your top and tossing it halfway across the room before grabbing for his shirt as well. 

“You’re so fucking beautiful,” Jean breathes out once you pull his shirt over his head, pausing to take in the sight of your supple breasts before him, running a thumb across one of your peaked nipples. 

His mouth quirks upward at the way you shiver in response to his touch, eyes blazing with hunger when your lips part, silently begging for more. Jean leans in, taking one of your nipples into his mouth, and you thread your fingers into his hair, urging him to continue as he shamelessly begins to suckle at the sensitive bud. 

You’re helpless to deny your body’s need to grind down onto Jean’s bulge, your folds pressing into your slick, damp underwear with each thrust of your hips. His lips slide away from your breasts so he can sink his teeth into your shoulder, muffling the feral groan that rumbles in his chest in response to the way you’ve desperately begun to dry hump his cock. 

Fingers trail along the waistband of your pants, flicking them open with ease to gain access to the soft, white cotton panties beneath. Jean nips his way up your neck, pausing to suck at your pulse point as he asks, “Are you wet for me?”

He doesn’t wait for an answer as he slips a hand into your underwear, a strangled “oh” the only sound he’s able to offer for a moment once he realizes you’re fucking soaked. He swipes three dexterous fingers along your sensitive slit, pulling them out of your pants to marvel at the sticky mess dripping off of his digits before licking each one clean. 

The sight of that alone nearly sends you over the edge, your tight hole fluttering in anticipation. You rock your hips once more, and his eyes glint with a hint of amusement as his hand makes its way back into your underwear.

Jean wastes no time in sinking a finger into your waiting hole, slowly sliding it in and out of you as he presses hot, open-mouthed kisses to the underside of your jaw. Meanwhile, you grasp his throbbing cock through his pants, fingers teasing at the wet spot of precum that’s soaked through the material, and he bucks upward into your touch.

“Fuck, baby,” he pants, stretching you open with another finger while his free hand gropes your breasts. You move your hips quicker than the diligent thrusts of his fingers, asking for more, and his chuckle drips through you like warm honey as he obliges your request with a third digit and murmurs, “How’s this?”

The sound of him fucking you with his fingers is downright obscene, the digits squelching wetly with each movement. The pleasure mounting within you has your thighs trembling with anticipation. But as you continue to fondle the outline of his cock, all you can think about is how goddamn big it feels. 

“Jean,” you whine, incapable of stringing together words to appropriately express the sentiment that you’d really, really like him to fuck you stupid with his dick right now.

He cups your face, the tender gesture at odds with the fingers curling and stroking your spongy inner walls. Jean leans in to capture your mouth in a messy, heated kiss, leaving a string of saliva trailing from your lips to his when he pulls back slightly to murmur, “If you want more, you have to come on my fingers first.”

You’ve spent more time than you’ll ever admit fantasizing the dirty, filthy things Jean might say to you while taking you apart, thoughts that have clung to your mind and sometimes forced you to avoid your best friend out of embarrassment for days at a time. 

But nothing can compare to this—the way his rough voice scrapes alive each and every nerve ending in the deepest recesses of your body. The undeniably dominant tone each word is laced with, and the instinctual reaction it viscerally awakens inside of you. 

Jean’s thumb presses into your swollen clit at the same time he takes your bottom lip between his teeth, biting down, and the swelling wave of pleasure in your abdomen finally crests. Your entire body tenses as you moan, riding out your climax on his fingers until the overstimulation has your legs quivering for momentary reprieve.

“Good girl,” he praises, slowly pulling his sticky fingers out of your pants. 

You don’t hesitate to reach for his waiting cock, eager to feel its thick warmth cradled in your fingers, but he gently nudges your hand away, pressing a kiss to the corner of your mouth. You huff in annoyance, and he shakes his head, “You’ve got me so wound up, I won’t last like this.”

“You wanna fuck me, Jean?” you coyly ask.

Idly teasing at one of your nipples, Jean’s answering grin is nothing short of wolfish. “You’re so tight, we’ll have to see if you can take me.”

You raise an eyebrow at the hint of challenge in his tone, though if what you’ve felt through his pants is anything to go by, you can’t deny it’s likely warranted.

The bedsheets rustle and the mattress squeaks as you both make quick work of the remainder of your clothes, underwear and pants left forgotten on the floor while Jean kisses and nips his way up the planes and curves of your naked body, his hands exploring each and every dip and crevice with reverence. When his lips finally meet yours once more, his hair tickling your face as he leans over top of you, anticipation curls in your gut at the feeling of what now presses against your naked body.

Your eyes trail down Jean’s chest, fingernails gently scraping over his nipples, and he sucks in a breath as you slide closer to your destination. His thick cock is a sight to behold, hanging heavily between his legs, and there’s not a trace of shame in the way your mouth waters at the thought of him stretching your slick cunt open with it.

As if reading your thoughts, Jean pushes your thighs apart, slapping his fat length against the puffy, sensitive folds of your pussy. Your back arches up off of the mattress of its own accord, and he hums, one hand firmly grasping your hip as the other wipes the flushed head of his shaft up and down your sticky slit. 

His name spills from your kiss-swollen lips, your neck muscles straining from how hard you’re pressing your head back down into the pillow underneath you. And when your drenched cunt greedily accepts the tip of his cock as he notches it at your entrance, pumping a spit-soaked palm along the length of it, it’s all you can do not to spear yourself on him entirely. 

“So eager,” Jean muses, watching the telltale signs of your thinly veiled restraint as he makes no effort to move any further. 

“Jean, please,” you beg, fully aware that this reaction is exactly what he wanted. 

He leans down, mouth latching onto one of your breasts, and you gasp as he slides into you just a little bit further while he traces wet, messy circles around your hard nipple. You grasp a fistful of his hair, finding another reason to be thankful for the way he’s let it grow out as of late as you tug his face up to yours.

“Yes?” he asks, a sparkle of mirth dancing in his lustful gaze as he smiles down at you.

“Fuck me,” you pant out, tightening your grip on his hair.

You hardly have time to appreciate the moan that drags out of him before he kisses you hard, plunging the full length of his cock into your cunt, directly to the hilt. The stretch is like nothing you’ve ever felt before, your walls spasming in protest as all of the air punches out of your lungs. But despite the impossibly tight fit, your pussy greedily takes every inch of Jean’s cock, tears of pleasure pricking at the corners of your eyes. 

“Holy shit,” Jean moans as your pussy clamps down on him, so hot and wet he nearly blows his load right then and there. “You’re so fucking tight.”

Fresh arousal dribbles wetly from your entrance and onto the base of his shaft, each and every nerve ending in your body buzzing like a livewire. You can feel his cock throbbing inside of you, swallowed up within the warmth of your cunt, his balls hanging heavily against your ass. Jean’s careful as he begins to ease out of you, well aware of the way your walls are so desperately choking his thick length. 

It’s why he’s surprised when you grasp at the soft strands of his hair once more and breathe out impatiently, “I’m not going to break, you know.”

Jean leans in and murmurs against your lips, “What are you trying to say? You like it rough?”

You nod, running your teeth along his bottom lip, “Yeah, Jean. I do.”

Cock now resting at your fluttering entrance once more, Jean groans as he snaps his hips into yours, burying himself deep in your soaking wet pussy. 

“So perfect,” he murmurs as you writhe and keen in pleasure beneath him, your tits bouncing with each thrust as he begins to ravage your hole. “Taking me so, so good.”

“Feels so good,” you nearly sob, head spinning with the pleasure threatening to spill over inside of you. 

Jean’s kisses are all tongues and teeth, filthy and messy as his thrusts begin to grow sloppy. “Come all over my cock, baby. Please,” he groans. “Please, please.”

He’s begging for it, begging to feel your cunt clamp down and gush all over his dick.

He’s so fucking close, balls seizing up, his entire body straining from the effort to bring you to your climax first.

“Come. For. Me.”

And it’s the desperation in his voice that sends you hurtling over the edge, a bright, searing lightning strike of pleasure like you’ve never known before bursting open inside of you as you succumb to an orgasm that leaves you positively boneless. 

“Inside,” you gasp just as Jean goes to pull out.

His answering groan is the most sinful sound you’ve ever heard as he plunges back into you, his forehead falling against yours while you both revel in the feeling of your walls spasming and contracting against his cock while he fills your cunt with spurt after spurt of hot, sticky cum. 

Jean flops down onto the bed beside you after you’ve milked every last drop of his seed from his softening cock, breathing hard, both of you too spent to fumble for something to clean up the mess of cum that lingers between you. Instead, he tugs you against the warmth of his chest, pressing a gentle assault of kisses everywhere on your face but your lips. 

You pout as he pointedly avoids your mouth, tangling your fingers in his hair and pulling his mouth toward yours. Jean smiles, the expression filled with unabashed adoration and fondness so stark that you swear your heart stutters in your chest. 

“I’m gonna marry you when this is all over,” he whispers into the scant space between your mouths, each syllable brushing across your lips.

“You promise?”

You can feel Jean smile into his answering kiss.

— likes, comments, & reblogs are appreciated!

[freakbabyy]

Decoy [S. R.]

Spencer Reid x fem!reader

word count: 6.9k

summary: when you go after an unsub who catches students making out, the unit is called upon to resort to desperate measures. Or in other words, where you and Spencer become the decoy to catch a voyeur.

warnings: +16. Making out, mentions of alcohol, mentions of violence, insinuation of smut, sexual tension

Do yourself a favor and imagine Spencer in these clothes during the case

You sighed, completely frustrated, while you looked for the thousandth time at the blackboard with some information from the profile that you had made for the criminal in this case.

You believed that the unsub was a Caucasian man between 30 and 35 years old, whose motive was to spy on and photograph university students who were escaping in their cars to make out at night, then force them to have sex in front of him and finally kill them cold-blooded. You imagined that he was a person with a mediocre job, that he felt insufficient, and that his voyeuristic behavior probably came from sexual frustration, something that could be corroborated by the violence that he inflicted on the genital area of the students whom he stalked using a knife, his mark on all homicides. You also believed that perhaps the rejection or abandonment of his last partner (preceded by a bad streak from his youth) due to his impotence had been the triggering event for all his repressed impulses to come to light.

All the psychological analysis was fine, it wasn't something you hadn't seen before, but the hard part of all this? Because he only threatened and killed people, he didn't rape them, at first it was almost impossible to tell who it was. He already had 20 victims in total and you weren't even close to catching him. In the last scene he had made the mistake of leaving a fingerprint and Garcia had been able to trace his true identity: Oliver Davis, a guy who fits the description perfectly. Unfortunately, this turned out to be useless because beyond the accusations of being a pervert, the man didn’t have much information that would give a clue to his whereabouts, you had even called the job that he had registered and all you had obtained was that he had several months without working there, which coincided with the beginning of the murders. After that Rossi suggested that he probably lived in a trailer (old, due to his lack of employment) where he developed the photographs and kept his trophies. That only made more sense when you thought that it would make it easier to transport or escape in case things got messy.

But words on paper and intelligent conclusions were of absolutely no use to you. You needed a plan to catch him.

"Do you have something, Reid?" Hotch had asked. You had already interviewed some students, you had set up guard duty to look for any suspicious behavior and you had even shared the photograph of the suspect in the media, but nothing had worked; The only thing left was to carry out the geographical profile to know the area in which he was attacking and thus be able to search for possible targets.

“I triangulated the locations we have of his previous homicides and I'm guessing he hits in this specific area,” he muttered, pointing to a space on the map he had on his blackboard with his middle finger. “Considering it's an area frequented by the age group due to its proximity to the universities and that it has several parks that the students told us they use to drink or go out as a couple”

"So what?" Morgan said from his spot. "We just wait until he kills someone else and hopefully we're near the scene to hear the screams?"

“Maybe we can ask the cops to patrol the area for the unsub's car,” JJ suggested.

“He's smart, there's a trailer park right here. It wouldn't be strange to find one on the streets as well.” Reid was visibly frustrated like everyone else and he ran a hand through his hair with some despair.

Your options were running out and frankly you couldn't think of anything else.

“And if we give him a target?” Emily murmured. Noticing that none of you said anything, she went on to explain her plan, “We ask police officers to send any young people they see around to home so we force our unsub to get close to who we want”

"And what are we going to do? Hire a couple of college kids to stalk them?”

“We can use our own team”

"Not to offend you, Prentiss, but we are no longer in the prime of youth"

"We don't, but Y/L/N and Reid do" when you heard your last name you were surprised, but when you heard your friend's you practically froze. First you looked at her and then at the doctor, whose gaze reflected the same stupefaction as you "You two are young, you might look like students"

"Are you saying you want to send us straight into the hands of a sexual predator?" you couldn't be offended, after all, those risks were part of the job, but you did feel somewhat reluctant about the idea.

“Do you have a better suggestion?”

“It doesn't sound so bad” Rossi murmured “It's a smart move”

“Besides, we would be watching around and we would intervene before that madman got close to you. Once we catch him, the photographs and personal items that he probably has in his trailer will be enough evidence, in addition to the fingerprint from the last crime scene” to your surprise, Derek was also pretty convinced of the plan that Emily had just devised.

"Reid, Y/L/N, would you guys be up for it?" Hotch exclaimed with his usual serious tone, looking at you and then at your partner.

Thinking objectively, the suggestion was very good. But thinking about it personally, you felt worried about the danger you two would be running into… oh, God. It wasn't until then that you realized that the plan to catch the suspect involved the two of you making out like a couple of hormonal college kids. 

You knew that the options that remained wouldn’t be as opportune as that and taking into account the temporary nature with which Oliver operated, in addition to the fact that he was already deteriorating as a murderer, it was most likely that he was already looking for new victims, so if you did that same night the chances of success were quite high. You were between a rock and a hard place and all you could do was look at him while the gazes of the rest of the room were divided between the two of you.

“I… I'll only do it if you say yes” you exclaimed in his direction, with a cautious voice and a fearful look. You knew your friend and you didn't want to make him feel uncomfortable in any way, even though you knew that both you and he knew that your personal interests would take precedence against the possibility that another couple of victims would lose their lives if you refused. It was your job, you had to do it. 

"Are you sure you guys are going to catch him before something happens?" Spencer asked your boss. You thought that with his background the last thing he wanted was to end up kidnapped or seriously injured again, even though the truth was that he was caring just as much about himself as he was about you. He had seen the photographs and knew that women were the most affected by the murder weapon… he didn't even want to imagine something like this happening to you.

"Of course. You will have communication with us and if something goes wrong we will get you out of there immediately" Aaron answered and your friend sighed nervously and then looked for your approval. You nodded slightly and he delivered the verdict, to which everyone agreed.

He was still standing, but after that he slumped into the nearest chair as he listened to everyone brainstorming ideas for setting up the scene, distributing the crew, and what they would tell the local police to do to make the decoy effective.

At some point you lost the whole point of the conversation, to start thinking about what was implied by what you were about to do.

The feeling of attraction for your co-worker had been latent in you for a couple of years, but you had never confessed it to anyone to avoid creating tension in the team or suffering the humiliation of certain rejection. Also, you knew that a crush meant distractions from what was truly important and you had tried, in vain, to eliminate it completely. But even if it hadn't completely gone, you had known how to control it, only allowing yourself to look at him with loving eyes from time to time and avoiding being too confident with him during group drinking outings. You even limited physical contact, not because you didn't like it but because you knew your greed would demand more and more of you until it became inevitable to beg for his touch. But now all that good work holding you back was screwed because in a few hours you would have to be passionately making out with him.

Still with the internal crisis, you raised your head to look at him and realized that he too had been submerged in his own tide of thoughts, which you hoped would be more positive than yours. At some point Spencer felt you watching him and when his eyes met yours he gave you that tight-lipped smile that was strangely comforting, to which you responded with the same gesture. After that it didn't take long for everyone to leave the room to fulfill their respective tasks, but you stayed seated because you honestly didn't feel enough energy to move. Besides, you had nothing entrusted to you, you were the bait.

"Hey, are you sure you're okay with this?" Spencer asked you, once everyone else had left. He looked so tired of everything, but at the same time there was a kind tone in his voice about him that made you smile.

“It's just kissing, Spence. I think we'll be fine" you assured him, trying to swallow all your embarrassment and nerves "And you?"

"I agree. I just hope we get lucky today or we'll just have to keep trying” 

"Reid, I need you to tell the cops what area we'll be in," Hotch interrupted you from the door. "You still have time to regret it," he added, looking at the two of you.

You immediately denied and after that Spencer withdrew from there in the company of Aaron. When you were about to drop you exhaled, completely concerned about the last thing your partner had said.

We will just have to keep trying. You didn't know if the idea excited you, or terrified you.

As night fell, Spencer drove the old pickup truck the unit had managed to rent for the two of you to drive into the park, with you in the passenger seat and a six-pack of beer in the backseat.

Although you were sure that it would be cold, you had decided to wear shorts and a button-down shirt that you normally wore for work, but that you had adjusted to make it look more youthful. Spencer was wearing an outfit that Morgan had gotten for him from a department store, simple jeans with a rather baggy cotton shirt and some nice boots that you didn't know where he got from, since in Quantico you had never seen him wear anything like that.

Both of you had showered at the hotel (separately of course) and you had made sure to brush your teeth and put on a good amount of deodorant and perfume before getting in the car. You had paid special attention to your appearance, not because it was necessary, but because you wanted to look perfect for him. Even with all this, you were a nervous wreck next to him, not saying a word along the way and only soft music from the radio filling the air.

When you stopped, the two of you put your headphones on to the channel the team was supposed to be on, and Morgan answered in the affirmative.

"Remember, he doesn't have to see the communicator or your weapon," Rossi spoke, who was also in the van, along with Prentiss and Hotch. "García will be watching with the security cameras and he will warn us if the trailer is coming"

"And meanwhile what do we do?"

"Pretend to be a couple, sit on the tailgate and drink beer, laugh, I don't know"

“Did you ever run away like that in college?” you asked, directly at Reid.

“Do you remember that I was like 16 when I studied at the university, right? I wasn't even old enough to drive, much less a car" he muttered and you gave a short laugh "I guess you did"

“I was too busy being the best in the institution to even think about going out and making out with idiots,” you replied, proud of yourself for that. “I mean, it's not like you're an idiot, but they were. You're very smart," you rambled, still twiddling your fingers, "Hotch, you guys will tell us when we're going to start kissing, will you?"

“When the suspect approaches, yes”

"Okay, well... then we have to go out, huh?" you muttered to him as you reached for the beers and tried to open the door to get out. You turned, expecting to see Spencer do the same as you, but noticed that he had lingered in the car for a moment, checking himself in the mirror and dabbing at his lips with chapstick.

My God, could that man make you more nervous?

When he finally caught up with you, you went to the back of the pickup, where you opened the tailgate to sit down with a little hop. Spencer was tall enough to keep up with you just by leaning over the edge, where you watched him cross his arms. You were silent for a few moments, listening to the sound of crickets and cars in the distance.

"Do you think it's a good idea to drink?"

"Only a little. I'm having a hard time thinking while sober, I don't want to ruin the little reasoning I have left” you exclaimed as a joke. Or maybe you weren't joking so much "Just empty a couple of cans and leave them on the floor so he'll think we're really drunk." Spencer was about to do what you said when you noticed an important detail and called him over to look at you "Come here, let me fix your hair."

"What's wrong with my hair?"

"You're very well combed, it's not the image we expect" you carefully took his hand until it was close enough to pass the other through all his golden locks, messing them up enough to give him that relaxed touch that he should have. He looked so handsome, but not in the style of a fancy FBI agent but just like a young intellectual who went to parties and smoked weed “Like this. Perfect"

“Do you think we have to think of some backstory?” he asked and you looked at him with a frown. “You know, something about us. What degree are we studying, what are our names…”

"This is not a play"

"It's rude to eavesdrop on conversations, Prentiss," you said visibly annoyed, although looking at your partner that expression softened "As you wish, Spencer. Although being honest, I would say that you study… literature”

"Really?" he exclaimed with slight enthusiasm. You knew that his mother had been a teacher in the subject and you wondered if he had ever considered it.

“Morgan wasn’t wrong to choose those clothes for you. It suits you” you complimented him and Morgan whistled from the other end of the line. You felt like you were having too much fun for the situation you were in, but you needed to talk about something else to put off the reminder of what you had come to do for as long as possible. “I think you would have that hopeless philosopher/romantic vibe who flirts by whispering memorized poetry in your ear.”

“I actually know some good ones”

"Sure you do" you smiled gently, suppressing the thought of him sighing close to your neck at Bécquer "I'd probably study science or something."

"The unattainable scientist with whom the captain of the soccer team has a secret crush, but she is completely unaware"

"Where did you get that? From a 90s movie?

Spencer's laugh was one of your favorite sounds and today that was precisely not helping your situation. You felt intoxicated by how handsome he looked, like you'd discovered a side to him that no one else had, and the thought of kissing him made you tremble a little with anticipation.

“Do you want to share a beer?” he murmured, carefully opening the can and offering it to you first. You knew your partner wasn't the most enthusiastic about doing anything that involved germs, so it made you feel good that he took the lead. You took a big gulp of the drink to gather something of value and when it was his turn to drink he kept looking at you intently, you would even say that he seemed entranced.

You had made sure you were in a strategic position, with enough light for the unsub to see you and quite lonely, except for the patrol cars and the van that had been positioned at a safe distance.

“How does voyeurism develop?” you asked quietly, with genuine interest, as you shifted a bit to get closer to him.

“Voyeurism usually begins in adolescence and since during that age it is usually seen with greater tolerance, there are people who continue with these behaviors until adulthood. When voyeurism is pathological, they spend considerable time looking for opportunities to watch, often at the expense of not fulfilling important responsibilities in their lives, and people reach orgasm by masturbating during or after watching. Although if you think about it a bit, everyone is a bit of a voyeur."

"Why you said so?"

“Many men and women enjoy viewing pornography, which can be classified as voyeuristic behavior. It's not a worrying thing, but it's interesting to think about it” he explained, with those expressions on his face that he had every time he shared knowledge with you. He liked that about you, that you were always willing to listen to his data and statistics even at the most inopportune moments.

"I'm still a little scared that Oliver is trying to do something to us."

“I have my gun. If he tries to do something to you, I'll use it" you knew that killing the unsub was always the last option Reid considered, so you widened your eyes a little to show your surprise "All lives are worth, but when that life has already taken so many and it puts you at risk, I would not doubt it. You have nothing to worry about” he assured you and your heart warmed a little at feeling so protected.

"Do you know if Oliver attacks at a specific time?"

"No, he doesn’t. Just as we can be here for ten minutes, we can also be here all night."

You exhaled loudly, before taking another gulp of beer.

“Drink some, boy. I feel kind of selfish around here."

"I am nervous"

"And why do you think I'm drinking?" you exclaimed wryly, still holding out the can to him, and when he finally agreed he drank a little more than you expected “Have you ever…” you started to say, but suddenly remembered that literally the whole team was listening to you. If the answer was embarrassing, you didn't want to hear Morgan and Emily taunting you all week, so you covered your microphone for a moment and spoke again, but so quietly that only he could hear you. "I suppose you kissed someone, did you?"

"Yes," he said quickly and you sighed with relief. It comforted you a little to know that it wasn't his first kiss, because you didn't want him to have such a bad memory “Do I look so inexperienced?"

"No, that's not what I meant" you smiled "You're handsome, I know you've probably kissed a couple of girls"

"You don't need to tell lies, you know I'll kiss you anyway"

"But it's not a lie. I really think you're handsome" you confessed, gathering all the courage in you, while you smiled at him in the most serene way possible "And if we weren't literally waiting for a murderer, you know I'd be happy to do this with you"

"Smooch me?"

"Having this bad date attempt, Reid," you hissed, flushing red, as you slammed your palm into his forehead with just a little bit of force. Spencer seemed quite pleased that he made you nervous, rather than the other way around, so he grinned, “Though I think we should have brought food. I'm starving,” you pouted, swinging your dangling legs back and forth.

"That's not a picnic, Y/N"

You hated for a second that everyone was so intent on the conversation. A part of you wanted a moment alone with the brunette, even if it was in the midst of such a strange situation.

You began to talk pleasantly about things completely unrelated to the case for a couple of minutes, staying where you were, until Hotch's interruption made you jump a bit in place.

"Garcia intercepted an approaching trailer, get ready” your heart immediately sped up and you noticed him tense beside you, too, probably with the same thought flooding his head.

"Okay, come closer," you exclaimed, trying not to panic, as you spread your legs a little to allow the man to step into the space between. He wasted no time and just as you wrapped your hands around his shoulders you heard the sound of another car pulling up.

"Is that our unsub?"

"It is"

You were about to turn your head to peek when Reid grabbed your cheek and stopped you.

"He's smart. If you look at him, he'll realize it” he reminded you with a serious voice. You were so worried about everything that you were forgetting about your training “Okay, so I… Is it okay if I put my hands here?” he asked with a different tone, nervously placing both hands on your waist. You had always admired the size and anatomy of those hands, but until now you had not had the pleasure of feeling them on your body in this way.

“Tonight everything you do is fine. I promise"

"It would be a good time to start, he'll see you" Emily reminded you and you could only sigh shakily.

You two were adults, why were you so scared about kissing?

"Close your eyes" Spencer whispered to you, masking his nerves better than you "I'll kiss you, just close them," he asked you and you did.

You felt his body lean against you a little until his chest almost touched yours and then his lips shakily pressed against yours. You would always remember your first kiss, which in essence was such a brief caress that you didn't even know if it could be counted as one, the one where he wordlessly asked your permission to explore your mouth. Still with your eyes closed, you pulled him by the neck towards you and started a new kiss, a little more confident and deep this time, allowing you to savor the beer mixed with strawberries and that strange flavor that each person has.

“We…” you started to say, once you separated “you have to do it slowly, what he wants is a show” you exclaimed. Spencer felt unable to say any words and your hands caressing him so deliciously wasn't helping at all “Slow,” you repeated.

You arched your back a little to get even closer and when you finally looked up you met his caramel eyes. You needed a moment to recover and you unconsciously licked your lips, as if you needed to pick up and savor his presence in your mouth again, something that didn’t go unnoticed by his attentive look at your movements. 

It didn't take long for you to give up, as beginning the third kiss you felt that you no longer had any control over your body, your heart, or your mind. And while it was true that neither of you were experts on the subject, you guys managed pretty well as the seconds ticked by. Spencer gasped as he simultaneously felt you pull the hair from his neck and caress his lips with the tip of your tongue, while you were taken by surprise when his hands left your waist and lowered to the height of your hip, where his thumbs gripped firmly on the clip of your shorts.

There was a kiss, then another and another; they became too many to count. You didn't want to touch him anywhere and at the same time you wanted to touch him completely, in the grip of the fantasy that this was real and not just a performance. And even if you were aware that it was all fake, that would probably only have encouraged you to enjoy something to the fullest that you knew would never come back. Amid everything you didn’t know which of the two situations would be worse.

The sound of your lips colliding became so obscene that you were embarrassed, but you had no plan to stop. Your hands slid gently down the length of his neck until you reached his chest and cupped the soft cotton of his garment in your fists to make sure he didn't move away from you. The heat of the moment just went up and up, but a voice on the intercom brought you back with a jolt.

“He started the trailer. He's going to go"

Spencer closed his eyes in frustration, and you sighed. From the position he was in it wasn’t possible to get around him without being seen, so keeping all his attention was on you and him.

Maybe you weren't doing it right? You wondered what the hell this man wanted to see if you were practically eating each other, but suddenly you remembered that his motivation was even more sexual than a couple of wet kisses. Maybe he was getting bored because he needed to see that you were about to… well, do it.

"Take off my shirt," you said immediately, still too close to his swollen lips and looking right into eyes that seemed to be pitch black.

"Take... what?"

"Take off my shirt" you repeated, with a tone that made the man shudder completely. With the hands that were still holding his shirt you pulled him to you and he held his breath “And kiss me better. Like you really want me"

But Spencer didn't need to pretend that he wanted you. 

He made you completely dizzy when he began to kiss you so hungrily and you managed to keep enough composure when you felt one of his warm hands travel under your blouse, limiting yourself to letting out sighs that were drowned against his lips. But what finally caused you to let out an indiscreet and unwelcome moan was when he pulled you by the hip until you were on the edge of the tailgate and you could feel the growing bulge in his pants pressing against you. Spencer had almost managed to suppress hers, but in the end, you having your own situation down there didn't help one bit. 

His trembling fingers fussed with the buttons on your shirt until it ended up somewhere on the floor at incredible speed, leaving you half-naked before him and the collection of FBI agents standing around. You might have been embarrassed if your brain could connect two coherent thoughts, but you'd lost that from the moment Dr. Reid first dared to kiss you.

You carefully guided his hands to the beginning of the curve of your breasts and now you both sighed in unison, feeling goosebumps on every inch of your skin. You pushed yourself forward just for the satisfaction of hearing that guttural sound again and your prayers were immediately answered, for it was enough for him to feel the slightest friction and he would go crazy. It was inappropriate to need him like that, but you couldn't help it.

Holding your lower back, he leaned over you and at the same time pulled you towards him until your breasts collided with his chest. In that position, your neck was exposed and your partner’s hot lips didn't hesitate to go down there, while you sighed agitated just at the height of his ear. Spencer asked you, between each kiss, to look in the direction of the trailer to see if he was still there and as you could you answered yes, which was victory enough for both of you.

As he could, he maneuvered to lay you down carefully on the cold metal of the truck without stopping kissing your neck, and by inertia you wrapped both legs over his hip. When you were hidden by the panels of the pickup he finally looked at you.

"I hope it's enough to get his attention," he said, sounding as agitated as expected, and although the circumstances meant that you two would be taking a break you flatly refused, pulling him back to kiss him.

That kiss did take Spencer by surprise and it was perhaps the sincerest of the night. It wasn’t as passionate as the previous ones, but rather it was loaded with softness and you would even say that a hint of supplication. You were begging for him not to stop, for the night to get stuck in an infinite loop where the two of you could kiss for eternity. And suddenly you felt how he, who had been so tense the whole time, completely relaxed against you, as if he understood exactly what you wanted to say. His hands came to rest on the sides of your head to be able to kiss you more comfortably and you dared to take him by the waist with the same care that you were kissing him, feeling even above the cloth the softness of his skin. 

And then he broke up with you. You feared you had done something wrong due to the suddenness of the movement and your frightened eyes searched his gaze for a sign of the reason, without finding anything. He just looked at you with something you couldn't describe, but that made you feel butterflies fluttering all over your stomach... and he stayed like that for a few seconds: just looking at you, as if he wanted to memorize all your features.

You opened your mouth to say something, but your words were drowned in a new kiss, totally different from the previous ones. Spencer was taking time with him, trapping your lower lip between hers and sucking on it gently, pressing himself a little more against your body, sighing heavily into your mouth.

Your hand was already running up his side to make its way to his cheek just as screams filled the silence and you hugged him reflexively. The screams had come from Morgan, who had already moved across the park to take down the unsub and was now wrestling with him to get the knife out of his hand. Spencer hesitated for a moment if he should come over to help, but he preferred to hold you better against his body to protect you and wait for Emily to place the handcuffs on the man under her partner's knee.

From a distance you saw that he only brought with him, in addition to the knife, his camera, and a small backpack with some other murderous instruments that they managed to confiscate without any problem.

"All clear, we've got him," Hotch spoke over the radio. As you exhaled in relief too many emotions washed over you, combined with the adrenaline coursing through your body and the arousal still flowing into your crotch.

"Are you okay?" Reid's gentle voice called to you, as he pulled away to check with his eyes that everything was in order. His hair was messy and his lips were so swollen that it was almost painful to look at the image without launching yourself to kiss him again "My God, your shirt..." he said, completely embarrassed, as he bent down to pick up the garment. You looked him up and down and blushed when you noticed how tight his pants were, feeling your stomach turn a little. When he got up, he took the opportunity to look at your chest covered only by the black lace bra and a big gulp of saliva went down his throat.

You thanked him quietly and put your shirt back on, feeling the sneaky glances Spencer was giving you, just before Hotch walked up to you.

"How are you?"

"Very good, excellent" you stammered.

You could perfectly feel your swollen lips, the light sheen of sweat on your face, the heat flowing from all the places Reid's fingers had been, and the abundant moisture between your crossed legs.

After Hotch congratulated you on your performance, the two of you walked as best you could toward the rest of the agents, who were already placing Oliver on patrol. Another group was analyzing the trailer and they managed to pull out enough evidence about the murders that would be very useful in prosecuting the man.

"All good?" Emily asked in your direction, once things had settled down and the rest of the team had gathered in a circle by the van. You and Spencer just nodded at the question.

“I honestly think I'm going to need therapy after what I heard,” Dave murmured, so serious that you couldn't help but burst out laughing.

"Don't you even dare make fun of this"

“No, we won't. I'm just saying you guys seemed to be enjoying it there."

"That's supposed to be the plan, right?" Spencer said nervously, finally daring to look at you and looking away almost immediately as he smoothed his hair back.

Once your boss said you could retire you escaped in a patrol car as fast as you could, wanting to get home so you could take a cold shower and soothe what wasn’t satisfied by the man. You could hardly sleep that night, still haunted by the ghost of the kisses you received from your gorgeous coworker, and the next morning you hoped that double coffee would do the trick. But apparently you weren't the only one who thought so, because at the same time that you arrived Spencer Reid crossed your path.

"Hey," he said, in that high-pitched voice that came out when someone caught him off guard, "How are you?" 

"Fine, and you?"

"Fine too"

You knew that the two of you wanted to talk about what happened, but it only took one of you to have the courage to speak first. At the same time your phones rang indicating a message and you mistakenly assumed that it was JJ contacting you to announce a case. What was your surprise when you opened the file and found a collection of photos from the night before. You knew from Spencer's face that he had received the same thing.

"Garcia did you… did she send you the same evidence?"

"That's right," he said nervously. You had to admit that if Oliver had one quality it was that of a photographer: you were sensual and perfectly captured the desire that had existed between you. Well, the one you had pretended to feel… right?

Spencer held his breath as he came to a picture of you topless in which his hand was practically on your breast, immediately remembering how that had felt. He just hoped his memories didn't affect him too much or it would be embarrassing enough to walk into the boardroom with a boner.

"They're good," you said to the air and he suppressed a laugh "But I can delete them if that makes you feel uncomfortable"

“No, no, I… I think I want to keep them too. After all, the bureau will have them in the files as evidence of the case, I prefer to have access too”

"I just hope she doesn't send them to anyone else, I wouldn't want to see my bra photos going around."

“I'll tell Garcia, don't worry,” Spencer murmured, rushing to type something on his phone.

While you waited for him to type you took another look, feeling your whole body heating up again at the memories. A part of you was grateful to have such material in your custody.

"I never thought of being the protagonist of an erotic photo session and here we are," you said ironically.

“Speaking of which…” Spencer started to say, “Not the erotic sessions by any means, don't think I'm planning on inviting you to one or that, because it would be super weird and inappropriate, but I was thinking if… huh…”

“Sell them online? I thought so too, but it depends on how much profit there is. Garcia can help us find the highest bidder and not get charged for tampering with evidence."

"What? No!" he said, completely shocked, and you laughed because you got the reaction you expected with your joke "Why would we do that?"

“Just kidding, Reid. Those photos are something I prefer to keep to myself" you clarified and your smile made him feel shy "Seriously, sorry for interrupting you. What did you want to tell me?"

"What…? huh, yes, right. It's just that this morning I was thinking about what you said yesterday, about how under normal circumstances you would have liked to have a bad date with me, right? and it just kept spinning in my head, so I was asking if you wanted to go for a drink sometime. Not like a date, of course, I'm not saying it is if you don't want to. I can just be like… well, go get a drink. As friends"

Yesterday Spencer had practically eaten your mouth and now he was nervous about asking you out. So adorable.

“You're not doing this just as compensation, are you? because you know that it is not necessary…”

“I do it because I want to. And I want to believe that… that I didn't misunderstand what happened yesterday."

You no longer even cared that it was unethical to date team members, or that if things went wrong, you would probably go into the worst of depressions. What mattered to you was that Spencer was interested in you, even if he had implied it, and that he was asking you out alone with him. Just the two of you, with fun and alcohol involved, without gossipy colleagues or mortal danger.

"Then I'd love to, Reid."

“Wow, excellent then” he smiled, feeling lucky that you agreed “I know a great bar near here, the atmosphere is generally calm, I like it because they don't play loud music. What day is right for you?"

“I'm available any day you want” you responded genuinely, grinning from ear to ear just being around him. That was the effect Reid had on you.

It was stupid to try to deny that you were still attracted to him, especially since now you had a taste of what he could do with you. You wanted to kiss him again, of course, but you were also anxious to earn that completely adoring look you'd received the night before.

“Today?”

"Yeah, why wait?" you responded, more excited than you wanted.

“Hey, I didn't ask you, but I wanted to know if I didn't go overboard with you last night. I mean… did something bother you?”

It was a smart move, you could see it clearly. It was obvious that Spencer cared about you, but you also picked up on his intentions to find out if you were interested in him too. Well, that's how it was from your perspective, because that probably would have been your motivation being in his place.

Even if it wasn't the case, you weren't going to miss the opportunity to take a little advantage of the situation.

"The kisses on the neck were something he definitely didn't expect, but they weren't unpleasant at all," you assured him, feeling your cheeks heat up again. "Did it feel good to you?"

"It did"

"So everything's perfect," you murmured, shrugging off the matter. But you both knew you couldn't see each other in the office and acted as if nothing had happened.

Something had happened. Those kisses had only fueled the tension that had always existed between you but that you wanted to ignore.

"Do you want to go after work, then?"

“Sounds good to me”

Spencer gave you one last smile and then went to prepare his usual cup of sugar with a dash of coffee. All day you were thinking about him and more than once he caught you looking at him, but you didn't even care.

So, at nightfall, with a few drinks on you and more courage in your body, you finally confessed that kissing was something you had wanted to do for a long time. You almost didn't believe it at first, coming from him, but when you finally accepted it, it wasn't hard at all to rush at him and kiss him feverishly. And this time there did not impede for you to give free rein to your desires, which led you to the soft mattress in your friend's house and kept you awake until a few hours before dawn.

[freakbabyy]

♡ mwah

[freakbabyy]

I’d let that man pick me up by my pussy like a bowling ball.

[freakbabyy]

Just thinking about Levi taking his sexual frustration out on you. He is so eager to take off your clothes that it almost makes you laugh. "Woha easy there captain." Levi just bites your lower lip and pins you down on the bed. "Shut it." His kisses reach your neck and he bites on your soft skin, leaving marks behind.

You whine into the pillow, head down ass up as Levi pounds into you from behind. He holds your wrist behind your back, his cock reaching the deepest parts of you. "Fuck yeah...keep squeezing me. Good girl." Levi starts to thrust into your pussy faster, you are dripping on his sheets but he doesn't stop and won't stop until you're ruined beneath him.

[freakbabyy]

Play Pretend | Part 2

Summary: As the pair begins dating, Jason Carver finds out about their scheme of a maintaining a ‘fake relationship’ only when he’s around. In the end, something happens which ends up accidentally convincing him that they are dating. 

Warning: NSFW +18, lots of smut, swearing, fingering, making out, implied sex, dirty thoughts, quickie in a closet, unprotected sex, very detailed descriptions

Pairing: Eddie Munson x Fem!Reader

Type: Continuation of Part 1 

Word Count: 5,333 words

Part One Here

The day was illuminated with special pale beams of winter sunlight, streaming through the small peeks in the grey clouds. The large pine trees were standing starkly in the winter morning, baring down due to the heavy burden of snow.  A few long silvery icicles were dangling on the edge of the overhangs of the trailers in the park, sparkling and twinkling in the vibrant morning sunlight.

A thick layer of ice was stretched across the entire length of the mud driveway, freezing under the cold temperature of the atmosphere. The window plains were covered in layers of dry frost, showcasing a number of little designs and details on the snow. A thick blanket of snow covered the ground and it sparkled in the sunlight. It had snowed a couple inches during the night.

Keep reading

[freakbabyy]

He’ll never disappoint me