#also it's like 'yeah i don't feel close enough to anyone at work to really... want to get them anything'

[chesirecatsmile]

brainrot inspired by the one video of daniel in the static bike

!

the morning light streams in through the windows, drilling into the throbbing pain in max’s temples as it pulls him away from sleep. he’s way too hot and face down on the pillows and oh god, he might throw up if he attempts to get up.

he opens one eye and only sees a side table, his own phone plugged in and a clock showing 10:30. if he tries hard enough he can hear the faint sound of music and someone else’s steady breathing.

his eyebrows furrow as he tries to turn around without puking his brains out. once he’s flat on his back he opens an eye slowly and then the other. it takes less than a second to notice someone, a man, on a static bike in front of the bed.

“the fuck?” he says, his throat fucked up and sticky. “where am i?” he coughs and closes his eyes again, head falling back into the pillows.

the man doesn't answer, max hears the static bike turn on, digging into his temples. he squeezes his eyes shut and begs for it to stop, groaning when it only speeds up.

“morning,” he hears.

his eyes snap open in a gasp. he looks forward and actually looks at the man, shirtless in a static bike and holding two tennis balls. his silhouette is artistic against the sunlight as max barely makes out a smile from his face.

max coughs before he speaks, “hello?” he angles his head up a bit to get a look at the guy's face.

much of last night is a bit of a blur, but the longer he’s conscious, the more he remembers. he didn't intend to take anyone home, just needed a party, loud music, a chance to feel free in a city that he doesn't belong to.

he briefly remembers running into a guy with an absolutely gorgeous face in the hallway to the bathroom, which immediately turned to making out with him, first in the hallway, then on the dance floor, then in the cab, and finally– the details are pretty fuzzy, but he doesn't remember anything being unpleasant, and he isn’t sore or in pain in any ways that matter, anyway.

he looks at the guy, he’s all smooth lines and colourful ink, big smiles and curly hair. he takes his headphones out and puts them in their case, licking his lips as he looks at max, and he wants to gloat and how good of a job he did.

fucking score, he thinks in congratulations. usually the people he brings home from the club look great through tequila daze in the saturated neon lights, but aren’t too good in the morning sun. if anything though, this guy might be even cuter in the daylight. amazing.

“you feel okay?” he says, playing with the tennis balls in his hand, making something stir in max’s belly.

“yeah,” max groans. he rubs his temples with his eyes closed. “i think i forgot your name.”

the guy laughs, gets off the bike and stretches, his whole body twisting in a delicious way max is way too hungover to even think about. “that hurts my feelings, man.” he says, pads over to his kitchen, which is only a few feet from the bed. “it’s daniel.”

oh, max remembers now. remembers being wrapped around him and moaning his name. “yeah, sorry.”

daniel smiles at him again. “coffee?” he’s set to work and getting the pot ready as max sits up, nearly losing the blanket as it slips from him.

daniel’s all toned, gorgeous tan skin, a face that’s like max’s wettest dreams. even a bit ragged from the hangover, he’s still floored and he feels himself blush. his only saving grace is that daniel is also turning eight shades of red as he looks at him.

“i– i don't really…” he scrunches his mouth and rubs his hands on his face as he struggles to think, “i don’t like coffee, do you have anything else?”

daniel doesn’t miss a beat. “i have tea, if you'd prefer. green or black. does your head hurt?” he presses down on the french press and sets on re-filling the kettle.

“black is fine if– if i can have ice with it?” max bites his bottom lip and watches daniel’s back as he rummages through a cupboard to find two mugs and a teabag for max.

max looks around to find his clothes, his eyes betraying him again and staring at daniel shirtless instead.

“i hope i’m not too much of a disappointment in the light of day.” daniel says, turning around to face max, his eyes fixated on max’s chest as he struggles to cover himself.

max knows damn well daniel doesn’t mean that. that man is like a dream come true, all smiles and big eyes, sex hair and shorts riding down his hips. his words land just as he intends though. max locks eyes with him and rakes them over his body again. he really wants to stand up and put daniel against the countertop but he holds himself back.

“you’re great, i just….” he makes a sound in the back of his throat, hand flying to his face. he peeks between his fingers at daniel. “it’s the first time i– with a guy…” daniel stands a bit straighter as his eyebrows shoot up in surprise.

“oh wow,” daniel says, smiling, “you seemed to know what you were doing.”

max laughs, his face hot and he knows it’s spreading down his chest. it seems to pull daniel into it as well. his laugh is even better than what max had expected, so contagious and genuine. max wonders if it was the laugh that drew him in to begin with.

“really?” their eyes met for a moment, the silence spreading out between them with an almost magnetic energy. just then the kettle shakes in its pot, yanking max out of the dreamy instant.

daniel turns it off and pour the steaming water over the tea bag for max. his eyes follow as max stands up, revealing his entire naked body as he hurries to put his underwear on over his hips. max can’t stand the heat of daniel’s eyes so he looks away as he puts his jans on and when he looks back daniel is bent over the freezer looking for some ice cubes.

he wonders how he got that lucky as he watches daniel place two ice cubes in his tea and then stir it one last time. “hope this is okay.” he says, motioning max to a barstool. “come here.”

he pads to the kitchen, he’s nearly the same height as daniel, though he’s broader. daniel passes him the overfull mug, and they fill the space of the little kitchen comfortably. their fingertips brush as the cup is transferred and somehow, it feels more intimate than the sex they had last night. daniel’s smile is so bright, his cheeks dipping into cute dimples. max hates to say it, but he’s very charmed.

“it’s totally fine if you regret this. hell, it’s the first time i get on with a straight guy,” daniel says, max can’t tell if he’s serious or not. they stare at each other for a long second and max can feel himself blushing under daniel’s eyes again.

“oh, i–” he says, drinking from his cup. “i’m not straight… i just have never…” he gestures between the two of them and daniel snickers. “i only regret not remembering everything.” he takes a deep breath, “i remember the kissing, and– and the car…”

the car. memory floods into max’s mind, still hazy and watered down, but he now remembers being all over daniel in the backseat, more hands than seemed possible for just two people. he remembers pulling daniel free of his jeans and sinking his mouth over him...yeah, it had been a good car ride. the problem is all the shots they had before, and after. and in between.

“and then… i don't know.” max bites his bottom lip and avoids daniel’s eyes. he can hear daniel’s smile before he sees it.

“it was great. you have nothing to be ashamed of.” he says and max’s eyes dart up again when they focus on daniel’s chest for too long.

“thank god,” he takes a sip from his drink. watching daniel’s face as he looks like he’s thinking hard.

“listen, you don't have to stay. we both know how these things go. you’re welcome to, but if you want to escape, i accept any excuse. we had a great time. you owe me nothing.” he lets out at once and sits down his coffee mug and leans back against the counter.

max’s eyes take a second to focus back from daniel’s body. daniel’s kicking him out. and he knows it’s a one night stand and he shouldn't feel weird about it, barely knowing him. but it’s there.

“daniel,” his voice is tentative, his head low and shoulders down, “do you want me to go?” daniel’s eyes flicker up, and for the first time max notices that they are almost golden in the sunlight.

“no.” daniel says softly, and max doesn't think twice as he sets his own mug down and slides closer to daniel with newfound confidence. making his breath hitch.

“then, maybe I can stay? and maybe, if you feel like it..." his fingertips brush against daniel’s arm and almost without blinking, daniel places his hand on his neck, sliding it back and up through his hair. “we could fill in some of those gaps?”

as daniel’s chest presses against his, noses brushing against one another, max smiles, a fluttering in his chest making it all the way to his toes. daniel’s even gorgeous from up close.

“sounds like a plan,” daniel kisses him then, softly, as if he’s trying to savour his mouth, and his hand cups max’s cheek sweetly. it’s far better than any fiery, lustful kiss max remembers they shared during the night. it says more than max can even comprehend.

when max pulls back, he takes in daniel’s face for a moment, a smile pulling beautifully at his lips. max feels his blush climb again and he tries to looks away, but daniel is holding his head in place.

“looks like you’re mine for the day.” daniel says, leaning forward to smile against max’s mouth.

my ao3!

#maxiel #max verstappen #daniel ricciardo #mine #so many thoughts #meow

[xzhdjsj]

By Your Side

Isaac x Reader

Isaac comforts you

Reader is on their period and is frustrated with work.

Anyone ever had cramps so damn bad it made you throw up? Cuz that was me last week and istg i was gonna die

Also this was supposed to be entirely fluff but idk what happened and now we have this😭 It all works out in the end though!

✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧

It's been a day since then, and as you’d expected you feel no better. It'd take a miracle for that to happen anyways. Periods are horrible, it makes your mood sour and your body ache. Not to mention it's annoying and a hindrance to your work. That doesn't mean that Isaac lacks understanding and thinks it a hindrance too, quite the opposite actually. Isaac insists you don't lift a finger if you're not feeling well, and if you do, he's always close to keep an eye on you.

And there it is again, that discomfort in your lower abdomen and back, a tell-tale sign that your period was on its merry way to ruin your week. With a hand across your stomach, you quickly tapped your phone, checking the date. Who knew a month of cramp-free frolicking would be over that quickly. You mentally curse yourself for not keeping track again and head off to the bathroom.

Though, that doesn't always translate well in your mind.

You sat opposite him in his office, hovering over a document you've read at least 10 times but still can't seem to grasp. Each time you feel like you understood, you realise your mind had wondered off in the middle of it or you got distracted by the throbbing pain in your lower abdomen.

Isaac's gaze would find you every minute or so. He'd flip a page, then look up. Or he'd type a sentence and glace at you before continuing. It was his little system of ensuring you weren't struggling.

This time his eyes find you in a frantic state. You let out a deep sigh, flipping the page over to start reading from the top all over again. The frustration was evident, knitted in your eyebrows and the frown on your face. Your eyes were unfocused, and you kept shifting your body every few minutes.

"Are you okay?" Isaac broke the silence.

"What?" You look up at him confused by his sudden question, and a little annoyed your focus was once again broken.

"I asked if you were okay."

You rubbed the side of your neck and sigh.

"Oh, yeah. I'm fine." You dismiss him, returning to the words on the page in front of you. Adamant to get it right this time.

"Are you really? You look a tired Pickle." His voice knocks your focus again.

"I'm fine Isaac." You tell him again. this time sternly.

"Are you sur-"

Your fingers massage the bridge of your nose, and your patience runs thin.

"God Isaac, I said I'm fine! I'm perfectly capable of working right now! It's literally just a period, I'm not bed ridden or something!" The words pour from your lips before you could think them through and instantly, you regret it.

"Right, I'm sorry dear. I was just worried." He's a little surprised, had you looked at him while speaking you'd see the way his eyes reflected it.

To be honest, you’re a little surprised at yourself too, but all you could think of right now was how the FUCK do you respond to that? You open your mouth to say something, anything really, but when you finally looked over at him, he's already shifted his focus to the screen in front of him. There isn't a single thing you could think of to say to him anyways.

You bend your head again, looking at the page you deemed so important earlier. Now it was just insignificant, and part of the reason for your outburst.

'How foolish' you thought to yourself, getting upset at him for showing concern over a matter he had little experience with. And despite his inexperience, he was only trying to help. It wasn't like you got any work done in the 30? 45 minutes? an hour? you were sat here. That only meant that he was right, you were clearly having a difficult time and he was observant enough to had noticed it.

The regret crashes into your chest like a tsunami. You wondered how he was feeling right now. You were considerably rude, surely that would hurt him. What if that gave him the impression that he was annoying? Because he most certainly was not! What have you done?

The thoughts swirled around your head like a brewing storm, threatening to explode at any moment. It didn't help that various parts of your body were still in pain and the only sound in the room was papers being shuffled and the clicking sounds of his keyboard. The pain gnawed at your flesh and the silence burgeoned your thoughts. There’s a lump in your throat and you’re not quite sure if you need to throw up from the pain or cry your eyes out. It was only when a single teardrop dripped onto the page below you that you realised you didn't want to be in the room anymore. You swiftly lifted your body from the chair and Isaac looked over at you right away. You couldn't return the notion; the bubbling pot of shame and regret wouldn’t let you.

"I uh,” your voice cracked and you're still unsure of what to say. "Excuse me."

You quickly push past the desk, rushing out the door. You were able to hold yourself together in front of him, but once outside, your emotions came tumbling over. The tears flowed freely down your cheeks, and you ran up the stairs to your room.

You threw yourself onto the sheets, your face buried into a pillow as your body folded into itself like an armadillo. It hurts so much. Your body, your mind, it all hurts. You sobbed into the pillow, squeezing it tightly against your chest for what felt like an eternity.

Eventually, there was a gentle knock on the door, then a soft call of your name as the door slowly swung open. You didn't hesitate, discarding the pillow quickly to sit up and voice your scrabbled thoughts.

"Isaac I'm so sorry! I- I didn't mean to yell at you- I know you were just concerned and I should’ve listened to you when you said I could rest for today-"

He takes big steps towards the bed, immediately taking you in his arms.

"Shhhhh, calm down my love. It's okay."

You're gripping onto his shirt for dear life, sobbing into his chest but he doesn't care, he pulls you even closer engulfing you fully into his body. His arms were secure and protective around you as he whispered sweet nothings into your hair. His voice is so gentle and soothing, and when combined with his hand caressing up and down your back, your choked sobs were simmered down to deep breathing in no time.

"Are you feeling better?" He asks and you nod.

"I'm sorry I was so rude to you." You were barely able to murmur.

"Are you still worried about that? I won't lie, I was taken by surprise but only because this has never happened to me before. I know you aren't feeling your best today, so I understand why it happened." He explained, leaning down to place a tender kiss on your forehead. "Now, are you in any pain?"

You sigh, "Yeah, I think my cramps are extra bad this time."

"Do you want me to get you something to eat? Maybe I could make you some tea and I'll get you some painkillers."

"No!" You suddenly move and the pain stabs you sharply in your side. "Ah shit!"

"Careful, Pickle" Isaac helps you, guiding your body down onto the bed. "I'll go get you those pills, hold on for me okay?"

"Isaac, can't you just stay? Please?"

"I'll be back before you know it, just stay here for a couple minutes. You’re very strong, I’m sure you can handle just that right?"

He disappears out the door, but as promised, returns after a few minutes.

"This is all I could find." He presented a single pill to you with a glass of water. "I'll need to make sure we get some more and find other alternatives to help you. I've read that heating pads are very common, so I ordered you one."

You take the pill from his hand, washing it down with some water.

"When did you do all that?"

"Just now, before I came up here."

"So, I yelled at you and you were researching and ordering a heating pad for me? Now, I feel even more awful!" You body falls back down onto the bed.

"Don't. It happens to the best of us, I'm well aware frustration isn't easy to handle." He casually spoke while getting into bed next to you. He reached for the blanket while you nuzzled closer to him, pulling it over your bodies.

“Am I disturbing your work?” You ask.

“No, it can wait.” He was quick to dismiss the idea of work. “I was thinking, what should I make you for dinner?”

He rubs circles in your back, from top to bottom. The warmth from his hands and the effects on the painkillers relaxed your body and made your eyelids heavy.

“You’re gonna cook for me?” You yawn.

“What? Is my cooking not good?” He teased playfully.

You giggle at his response. “Hmm of course not, I love your food. But I don’t know, hmmm how about mashed potatoes?”

“Just mashed potatoes?”

“Yeah, that’s all I want.”

“Sounds easy enough.” He kisses the top of your head. “You should get some rest now.”

“You’ll stay with me, right?” You yawn again.

“Of course my love, and when you open your eyes again, I promise I’ll still be here.”

His gentle hand against your back, and comforting scent made your body heavy and lulled you to sleep in no time. You dreamt of him, and when you woke up again, he was still there with you, eyes closed and mellow breathing as he slept.

#zsakuva #sakuverse #asmr #isaac #isaac rhoades #zsakuva isaac #isaac x reader

[starrypawz]

obligatory time of the year where i am a very not fun person bc i don't join in with the secret santa at work

#like i like giving people things but like idk secret santa style is not my jam #also it's like 'yeah i don't feel close enough to anyone at work to really... want to get them anything' #like i might like idk get a box of quality street or something for the work breakroom but yeah #also it's like 'i am not much money'

[incognit0slut]

Lose Control

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3

Spencer finds himself locked in a room with his rival. Based on:

warning: 18+ explicit content including oral (both), hair-pulling, chocking, and unprotected, semi-public, hate sex

words: 6.8k (I'm a smut-with-a-plot kind of person)

a/n: this is not enemies to lovers. This is, quite frankly, enemies to (fuckable) enemies. Also, we hit 1.2k followers!! Tysm!! I legit made this blog 2 months ago that’s crazyyy😳

MASTERLIST

“…mind games until you lose control…”

CHANGE WAS INEVITABLE WHEN IT CAME TO HIS WORK. Spencer encountered many great people walking through the door of the bureau throughout the years he worked as a profiler. Most of them he genuinely liked, and most of them he considered more than mere colleagues. But from all the people he had to work with, there was one person he really couldn't stand.

"Move out of the way, Reid, you're blocking the way."

He turned to see the last person he wanted to indulge in standing close to him, a hand on her hip and a frown on her face. "There is literally enough space for you to pass through."

"And jeopardize myself by touching you?" She wrinkled her nose. "I think I'll pass."

His gaze, usually warm and welcoming, hardened into a steely resolve. It pierced through her like an icy dagger, radiating an unmistakable contempt. He then backed away, walking further into the room that held rows of shelving units lining up the space. "What are you even doing here?"

"Well, ever since we found the victim's body surrounded by those cryptic signs, it reminded me of the cult massacre which happened in—"

"St. Joseph, 1947," he finished.

"Yeah, although this isn't mass murder, I thought the nature of the death was very similar to that old case." He could practically hear the smugness in her voice as she continued, "I also knew you'd be here and wanted to beat you to it."

His gaze settled on her standing by the door. "I don't think that's going according to plan considering I was here before you arrived."

"Please, you just got here. I bet I can find the files before you do."

His brows furrowed. How could he not feel some kind of disdain when she was acting the way she was? One might say he was acting too immature for his age, for a man who was close to pushing forty he did consider himself too old for petty fights. But it was hard to keep his composure when she was often the one taunting him, ridiculing him with that haughty mouth of hers.

It was better to ignore her presence completely, so he did just that, focusing his attention on the files in front of him as she stepped into the room.

She frowned, feeling her throat clenching before coughing out loud as dust particles greeted her entrance. She was busy trying to swat the specks of dust away from her face when something solid suddenly nudged her feet. Her eyes swept towards the floor.

"Why is this massive book laying here?" She picked up the thick paperback and read its title. "The Anatomy of Motive?"

Spencer's head snapped in an alert. "Wait! Don't—"

But it was too late. The old wooden door hanging loosely on its rusted hinges creaked without any support to keep it ajar, and with a resounding thud, it closed, the sound echoing through the stagnant air. "I put that there for a reason," he grumbled. "And now we're stuck here."

She leaned forward and wrapped her hand around the handle, trying to yank the door open. The panic on her face was evident when it didn't budge. "Shit."

"You can only open it from the other side."

She turned towards him. "Do you have your phone with you?"

"No."

She groaned because her own device was also securely tucked in her bag. Not wanting to be locked in a room with the last person she wanted to be with, she started pounding on the door frantically. "Help! Penelope! Luke!" Bang. Bang. "Anyone!"

"Nobody's going to hear you."

She tuned him out.

"Emily! JJ!" She pressed herself against the door, drawing her mouth close towards the tiny gap between the wooden panel and the wall. "Help! We're locked in!" She suddenly caught his movement from the corner of her eyes and turned to him, noticing the way he was already studying a file.

"What are you doing?"

He slipped back the document into the cabinet and went through the other folders. "Might as well work until they realize we're gone."

She straightened herself and glanced at the watch around her wrist. "But it's late. What if everyone's gone home and we're stuck here for the night?" A thought struck her and she looked up in horror. "Or for days?"

"Then you have yourself to blame."

She glared at him. "You're not helping."

Spencer looked up to see her jaw clenching, accentuating the sharp angles of her face. Her normally composed features, so delicately balanced, now seemed to unravel in a heat of fury. It was the only expression she held every time she had to deal with him.

He glanced away and focused back on his task. "Don't worry, we have a team of competent profilers. If they can find dangerous criminals throughout the country, they can also find their two missing agents."

She considered his words and acknowledged the truth behind them, so she reluctantly moved to the other side of the room, going through the shelves opposite of him. The space went completely still as they both went through the stack of folders shelved between the old cabinets. It wasn't until curiosity got the better of him that he finally looked up, his eyes falling onto her form.

Her back was facing him, giving him a view of her tousled hair falling down over her shoulders. His eyes involuntarily trailed the contours of her body, betraying a mixture of intrigue and curiosity. His gaze lingered upon the gentle curve of her shoulder, the graceful line of her spine, and the sway of her hips as she moved onto the next shelf, her steps echoing through the silence and it was then he realized she was wearing heels.

Again.

This wasn't the first time she decided to wear shoes that looked very uncomfortable to wear. Who even wore heels in this line of work? Being an FBI agent meant you had to be quick on your feet because anything could happen unexpectedly. He once voiced out his opinion on this matter, which she only answered with, "My choice of clothing won't reduce the capability of my brain, Reid. You and I are still doctors even if I wear a bathing suit to work."

"It's not about your choice of clothing, it's about being practical."

"That's why I keep a pair of sneakers in my drawers,” she had haughtily replied, then narrowed her eyes at him. "And don't comment on my shoes when I've held myself from judging on your ugly cardigans."

His cardigans were not ugly.

He shook the memory away as eyes roamed over her again, noticing her very exposed legs. She was also wearing a skirt today, something she often did and something he never dared to have an opinion on, knowing she would probably bite his head off if he did.

"Stop staring at me."

Spencer cleared his throat at being caught. "I wasn't."

"I could practically feel your eyes on me." She looked over her shoulder. "I have great spidey senses."

There was a sudden pause. "Spidey senses?"

"Yeah, like Spiderman." When he didn't respond, she turned around and faced him. "Please tell me you know who Spiderman is?"

When he returned her gaze with a frown, she couldn't help but laugh, turning her back towards him again. "You know this is why people like me better than you. We both may be smart, but you got to admit, my knowledge doesn't simply stop on academics."

He should've been offended by her words, he should've countered back a vile reply, but her voice became white noise to him as he watched her body leaning down, picking up a document that slipped from her grasp. His eyes caught the way the tight skirt clung to her form like a second skin. The fabric, stretched taut against her curves, highlighted the alluring lines of her figure. The skirt's snug fit caressed her thighs, tracing their slender form and hinting at the softness beneath.

This wasn't the first time he noticed her beauty in this type of way, beneath all that glare she often carried whenever he was around her, he knew she was an attractive woman. It was her personality that often stopped him from marveling this insight. But being in this closed, tight space, Spencer was forced to study her, and with the way his body was reacting, he knew his lingering stare was more than simple admiration.

He could feel his blood pulsing down south, tightening underneath the confinement of his pants.

As she straightened herself, she felt a sudden shift in the atmosphere. She turned her head and noticed his eyes training on her body.

"You're still staring." She then caught a glimpse of something unguarded in his gaze, something that was definitely far from hatred. Her mind whirled with questions, trying to decipher the meaning behind it. "Stop looking at me like that."

A hint of a smile played on his lips. "Like what?"

"Like you either want to strangle me or—"

"Or?" He prompted.

Like you want to eat me alive.

It was the only way she could describe it. She was aware of how his eyes usually pierced her, how every movement she made or word she uttered could trigger this immense disdain radiating from him. But now the weight of his gaze bore down upon her, casting a palpable heat that danced across her skin. Something had changed, and she felt it in the intensity of his eyes, so different from the usual hostility she had come to expect.

They held a predatory gleam as if he could pounce on her at any moment.

“If I hadn't known you better," she carefully spoke, watching as he took a step towards her, and she took one back, bumping into the wall. "I'd say you're trying to flirt with me with those eyes."

"Me? Flirt with you?" He cocked an eyebrow. "Don't flatter yourself."

She scoffed, squaring her shoulders as he closed the distance between them. "You're right. What was I thinking? You can't even flirt to live."

"You don't even know how I flirt."

"Reid, I've seen you flirt," she said between fits of laughter. "Remember you tried getting that cop's number? You were stuttering and suddenly giving her facts about oil paintings. Paintings."

"She had an interest in fine art," he stated. "And if you must know, after giving those informative facts, I told that no amount of art could ever compare to her beauty as a compliment.”

She snorted, shaking her head in disbelief. "And that actually worked? She gave you her number?"

"No." Then a smirk curled on his lips. "But she did come home with me."

She frowned. That was new information. She never really thought about what went on in his love life, but hearing him implying his active sex life had her feeling strange. "She did?"

He took another step forward. "If I hadn't known you better," he carefully spoke, mimicking her words before. "I'd say you're jealous."

She tilted her head up and scowled at him. "Even if you were the last person on this planet I wouldn't consider breathing in the same air with you."

She waited for his response, but he didn't even seem to be bothered by her words. And as they stood there, holding each other's gaze, she became acutely aware of everything; their close proximity, the warmth radiating from his body, and the rise and fall of his chest. His unfamiliar scent lingered in the air, a distinct combination of earthy musk and a hint of something indefinable. She had never allowed herself to notice it before, but now it was impossible to ignore.

Her eyes then traced the lines on his face, sharp jaw, high cheekbones, and finally settled on his eyes. At first, she thought her eyes was deceiving her, but she knew exactly what held behind his gaze. It was the same expression she saw in all her past lovers. It wouldn’t have surprised her to see the same intensity on other men, but to see it on him? The guy who had always hated her guts the moment she corrected his statistic rants the first time they met?

Spencer fucking Reid?

It was too much for her to handle. She was used to his piercing gaze, his evident disdain. Not this. It became almost overwhelming that she decided to step away.

Just as she turned to retreat from the intensity of his gaze, her body froze as she felt warm fingers gripping her wrist. The contact sent a jolt through her body and her eyes snapped back at him. "What the hell are you doing?"

Ah, there it was, that hatred she was looking for blazing in his eyes again. "You see, I don't like you."

"Good." She held her chin up. "The feeling's mutual."

"You think you're better than everybody else, you think you're better than me."

She was about to retort another response when he suddenly yanked her, a gasp leaving her mouth. "But somehow I can’t help myself from wanting to taste you.”

Then it happened so fast. One moment she was trying to register what was happening, the next thing she knew his lips were on hers, moving frantically in desperate hunger. She couldn't believe he was actually kissing her. It also burned her up inside to find he was good at it. She wanted him to be all teeth and awkward so she could sneer at him and push him away, but he was holding her face in his hands like they hadn't spent months sniping at each other.

A turmoil of thoughts swarmed her mind—What are you doing? Why are you kissing him back? What the hell is wrong with you?—while she gripped onto his arm as a pleased sigh slipped through her mouth before she could catch it.

He slowly pulled away from her, eyes glittering in mischief. "Would you look at that?" he muttered, gripping her jaw and tilting her face like he was appraising her. "All bark and no bite."

She shoved his hands away from her face, ignoring how nice it had felt, wide and warm and firm. "Don't test me."

"Yeah?" His hand settled on her hip, pulling her against him deliberately slow, giving her every opportunity to knock his hand away, to sidestep him, to tell him to stop, but she didn't. He took it as a sign to run his hand behind her. "I think you're bluffing."

Her heart quickened when she felt him gently squeezing her ass. "A-About what?"

"All this bravado of yours," he taunted, his hands now trailing down to her sides. "I bet there's something sweet underneath all this bitterness."

"You don't know me," she hissed breathlessly. It was difficult to keep snapping back at him when his other hand ran up her leg, pushing her skirt up as he went, his grip encompassing the entire width of her thigh.

"Maybe not. But I'm always up for a challenge." His calloused hand brushed at the lacy edge of her underwear and she sucked in a shaky breath. "Let's see how long you can keep up with this attitude."

She opened her mouth to say something snippy, but he ducked down and kissed the words out of her mouth with a low groan. Her brain suddenly froze when his finger curled under the outline of her underwear and tugged it to the side, trailing his slender finger through her bare slit.

A smirk curled at the corner of his lips as pulled away, trailing his mouth along her jawline. His finger brushed along her slickness and it took a lot of self-control for her not to moan. "How are you already so wet?"

Although a small gasp emitted from her as she felt him sliding a finger, and when his thumb pressed against her clit, she closed her eyes, tossing her head to the side at the feeling of him filling her up.

"You're awfully quiet," he murmured against her neck, sucking a bruise against her soft skin as he began to pump his finger. "Who would've thought I had to touch you to keep your mouth shut."

She bit her bottom lip, fighting against the pleasure that surged through her, desperately trying to suppress the enjoyment coursing through her veins. "I hate you."

"No, you don't." His tone was vexingly calm, and all it did was rile her up more. She wished he'd match her frustration because his composure was annoying. Then to make matters worse, he let out an amused laugh. He fucking laughed. "Look at you trying to hold yourself back."

"I'm not—fuck." She gasped as she felt his finger curling inside her.

"Keep telling yourself that." He added another finger and she slumped against the wall, pressing back hard to keep herself upright as he pumped his wrist. "It's okay to admit you're enjoying this."

"I-I'm not," she huffed indignantly.

"Has anyone ever told you you're a bad liar?"

Her breath mingled with the sound of her arousal echoing in the narrowed space as he drove his fingers into her faster. "Shut up, Reid." She then grabbed onto his arm as the pleasure intensified, nails digging into his skin. "You think you're so smart, so full of yourself—"

"You really like picking up a fight, don't you? That's why you always have an attitude with me." His lips brushed her ear. "It gets you worked up. It gets you wet."

She quickly shook her head. "I just don't like you."

"Hmm." He leaned back and watched the way she tensed beneath his touch, her muscles coiling with delicate restraint. It was as if she fought against the pleasure that threatened to consume her, seeking to maintain control even as her body betrayed her desires. "I wonder if you'll like it as much if I put my head between your thighs."

The thought of having his face buried right where her arousal burned drove her over the edge. Her body betrayed her and she knew he could feel it too. "Oh wow, you're clenching around my fingers," he hummed in satisfaction. "Is that what you want? You want me to eat you out?"

"No," she mumbled but he found her hips bucking against his palm.

"Your body is saying otherwise." He withdrew his fingers but kept rubbing tight circles against her clit. Her blood was hammering under her skin and her legs shook as she tried to roll her hips up against his hand again. "Say you want me between your thighs."

She gritted her teeth, her muscles tightening in a valiant effort to hold back the mounting pleasure that begged to be unleashed. "I'm not saying that."

"Are you sure?" His other hand traveled along the back of her head before fisting her hair in his hand, exposing the column of her throat to him. "Don't you want to come all over my face?"

"Reid..." she mumbled hopelessly, her head spinning as his hot breath brushed against her skin. The thought of admitting that infuriated her because him actually getting her off was something she'd never live down. This was Spencer Reid, the man who had always infuriated her with his know-it-all statistics as if she hadn't already known half of the things he said.

But damn it, she really wanted him between her thighs.

"Say it," he repeated, moving his hand away entirely, and she grabbed his wrist desperately, pulling his fingers back to where she wanted them. "Say I want your mouth on me, Spencer, and I'll happily oblige."

"Reid—"

"Spencer," he corrected. "Say it."

Her body quivered, a taut wire stretched to its limit, yearning to snap under the weight of the pleasure that coursed through her. And then his finger suddenly stopped its movement and she knew he wasn't going to touch her again until she gave in. If that's how he wanted it, fine. She was going to consider this as one of their silly mind games, their usual banter whenever they tried to outwit one another. She could figure out a way to get back at him later. She could swallow her pride for now.

"I want your mouth on me," she reluctantly caved in.

"Did you forget my name?"

Unbelievable.

"I fucking hate you," she sneered. Then she pushed him away from the crook of her neck and leveled her gaze on him. "Just put your fucking mouth on me, Spencer."

He clicked his tongue disapprovingly. "You have a very foul mouth."

But true to his words, he eventually dropped to his knees, his hands trailing on either of her sides before he slipped her underwear down her legs. His fingers trailed along her skin as he did it, prickling the depth of her anticipation even when her mind was still trying to comprehend what she was letting herself in.

Because she had never thought of getting eaten out at work, let alone with someone she hated. Sure, hate was a very strong word, but it was what she was used to feeling whenever it came to him. It was easy to engross her hatred every time he treated her differently from the others.

Hate she could do, it came naturally to her. But to desire him, actually wanting him to bury his face between her thighs, was starting to mess her up, and not in a bad way. Not in a way that had her feeling repulsed, but in a way that made her want to grab onto his hair and pull his face right at the center of her heat.

Spencer looked up at her and smiled, as if he knew what she was thinking, and pushed up her skirt around her hips. His eyes bored into her as he hiked one of her legs onto his shoulder. His gaze traveled down her body, taking in her flushed cheeks—out of anger or embarrassment, he didn't know—and continued to sweep over the curve of her breasts before they stopped right in front of him.

"Look at you." He leaned closer, his breath brushed her damp skin. "Aren't you a pretty thing?"

There was something compelling about having Spencer sinking on his knees before her, but having his mouth wrapped around her clit pulled away her senses and her legs started to buckle that she had to grab onto the nearest cabinet for support. She stifled a moan, not expecting the enthusiastic way he devoured her from below with frantic motions of his wandering tongue.

This was so wrong. However, heat continued washing over, traveling up towards her face and burning at the tips of her ears. The more his mouth sucked onto her, lapping his tongue through her slickness, the more her body coursed with pleasure that she couldn't stop herself from sinking her fingers into his hair, holding him in place as she ground her hips over his face.

"For someone who claims to hate me," he whispered, his voice vibrating against her skin, his tongue pushing into her walls. "You sure are enjoying this."

A moan was thick in her throat until she swallowed it down, not wanting to give him the satisfaction of how true his words were. "You're annoying. So fucking annoying," she hissed.

Spencer hummed. "And you taste so good."

She gasped in surprise when she felt him lick a long stripe along her slit, the rough pad of his tongue catching her clit as she jolted. His fingers dipped into her thighs as he held her steady, lewd sounds leaving his lips as he continued to suck her wetness. His movements were suddenly fast, so feral and animalistic as he shamelessly lapped her skin, swallowing every liquid dripping off her body.

The built-up pleasure inside her continued to grow as she rolled her hips into his mouth, trying to focus on the sensation of him pressing his tongue against the same spot each time. Her chest was heaving as she tried to focus on the pleasure that was slowly taking over her rational thoughts, the coil inside her desperately close to breaking.

"Oh, god," Her voice shook, head tipped back and eyes staring at the ceiling as she felt herself dance on the precipice of release for a few agonizing moments before she finally started to shatter. Then a strangled cry left her lips as she began to buck her hips as he continued to suck her clit through her climax, the pleasure clouding her mind. It wasn't until he finally stood up, looking down at her with a grin that she finally took in what just happened.

"Do you still hate me?"

Yes, yes she did, especially with that smug smile of his taunting her. Yet she found herself hooking her fingers around the belt strap of his pants, pulling him closer as the weight of her resistance began to crumble under the force of his unwavering gaze. "So fucking much." The triumphant smile on his face grew as she started to unbuckle his belt, the sound echoing in the room. "Do you have a condom?"

"Do you really think I'm the type of person to be carrying a condom in my pocket?"

"I think you're the type of person who never gets laid." He threw her an uninterested stare which she decided to ignore. Then she let her hands fall to the side. "I'm not having sex without a condom."

Spencer weighed in her words. If he was smart, he would've stopped himself, pulled away, and accept her admission. But he didn't want to be smart, after depending on his intelligence throughout his life, he didn't want to be rational. It was definitely out of his character, but there was something about her that stirred a dormant part of him, awakening desires and emotions he hadn't known existed within his soul.

He had always prided himself on his restraint and self-discipline, but after finally having a taste of her, he found himself unraveling. He wanted more. So he leaned closer, and pressed a desperate kiss at the hollow of her throat, marveling at the way her body trembled from his touch. "Why not?"

She was going to regret it. She really was. But damn it, how could she restrain herself when he was sucking into her skin like a man starved. She splayed her hands on his chest and pushed him away before giving him the deadliest glare she could muster.

"I swear to god if you finish inside me I will kill you."

Then a smirk pulled at the corner of his lips. "Was planning to come in your mouth anyway."

She was about to retort a haughty response when he suddenly grabbed her by the elbow and turned her around, pushing her against the wall. She was taken aback by the newfound dominance he exuded in his touch. It was a side of him she had never witnessed before, and it sent a thrill of surprise and intrigue coursing through her veins, something she would never admit out loud.

He dragged his tongue across his lips at the sight before him as his hands reached for his belt, unclasping the strap before unbuttoning his pants, the sound of his zipper being pulled down echoing in the narrowed space. He then slightly pulled down his briefs, slipping out his cock before his knee wedged in between her thighs, parting her legs to open.

He slightly shifted, his jaw twitching as he gathered saliva in his mouth, craning his neck down to spit on her pulsing core before the head of his cock gently nudged her clit. Embarrassingly, she clenched around nothing. Her vision went white and she felt herself tremble as he positioned himself at her entrance, pushing in inch by inch.

"Fuck," he sighed, hips twitching as he finally slid into her fully, feeling her walls clenching hard around him. "I can get used to this."

She could get used to this too. She had never felt so full before, never felt herself being stretched like this so deliciously, but she certainly didn't need to feed his ego by moaning about it. "Well don't, this is the only time I'm letting this happen."

He pulled back his hips, leaving only the tip as he watched her slickness coated around him. "We'll see about that."

And then all hell broke loose.

He slammed into her with so much force that she let out a muffled scream as her eyes shot wide open. He relentlessly bucked his hips, his cock filling her over and over without self-control, the tip of him hitting her deepest parts relentlessly. She could barely even think as his hips fell into a rhythm, sending her higher and higher with each thrust.

Her legs tensed up even more at the pressure, his hands gripping her hips so hard his fingers dig into her flesh that she knew she would leave bruises. Behind her, he was grunting and growling through gritted teeth as he repeatedly buried himself into her without remorse. It didn't take long before his vicious thrusts had her eyes rolling back behind closed lids, her mind going entirely blank to everything but this very moment.

One of his hands released her hip before she felt him grabbing a fistful of her hair, just at the base of her skull, and sharply pulling. A high-pitched, breathy noise tore out of her at the feel of it. "Poor baby," he cooed. "Look at you so desperate for my cock."

She couldn't help but be stunned by his words. Who would've thought Spencer Reid was good at dirty talk? Definitely not her. It was as though he had unveiled a secret facet of his personality that had remained hidden until now, and she found herself captivated by this revelation.

Not that she was going to admit this, of course, so instead, she solely focused on the way he addressed her. "I am not your baby."

"You want me to call you something else?" He asked between bated breaths, hips thrusting into her. "How about Angel? Darling? Sweetheart?"

She let out a frustrated groan at his teasing but it was probably impossible to discern it from the rest of the noises she was trying to hold. "Are you always this chatty during sex?"

"No," he hummed as he picked up his pace, sending a helpless spasm through her.

"R-Really?" She mused breathlessly. "I must be special then."

He then tugged on her hair even rougher, causing her to curse loudly in response, her hips beginning to eagerly press backward into him as his hips jutted into her relentlessly like a man possessed. "Don't get too cocky."

"Just admit it," she whispered, pleasure racing down her body in waves. "You like me."

With another sharp tug on her hair, he abruptly plunged his cock so deep inside of her that she couldn't stop herself from arching her back. He held himself there as he used the grip on her hair to haul her backward to him, a surprised yelp falling out of her. "I don't like you."

Her back fell onto his chest and she felt his body vibrating behind her. "Then why is your heart beating so fast?"

"Well, sex is physically exerting so..."

How was it possible to be this aroused and annoyed at the same time? Wasn't sex supposed to be enjoyable? Well, she was clearly enjoying this, but it was hard to fully sink into the pleasure when he was driving her insane. Unless...

It dawned on her, that was her move. That was how she could play his game. Maybe she should be enjoying this to the fullest, maybe she should stroke his ego, get into his head, and have him feel as desperate as she was. A fierce determination ignited within her, fueling a newfound resolve to turn the tables on him. This was how she was going to get him back.

"Harder," she asked, pushing her hips into him.

His pace suddenly slowed down, uncertain whether he was hearing her right. "Yeah?"

She nodded. "Please?" she added before he could prompt her.

A satisfied sound escaped his lips—it was a sound she had never heard coming from him, loud and crude emitting between a growl and something coming close to a whimper, which had her smiling triumphantly. "L-Look at you begging now."

This was easier than she expected. She rolled her head back against his shoulder and let out a moan she had kept so hard on controlling. "I want you to fuck me harder, Spencer."

His sharp intake of breath at that moment was worth it. "I know what you're doing."

"What am I doing, baby?" she asked sweetly, dripping in forced affection that sounded nothing like her at all.

He instantly released the hold on her hair, his hand snaking around to grip her throat as his other hand slid around the front of her. "You're messing with me."

She let out a strained sound as she felt his other hand traveling down where they were connected. "I-I thought you wanted me to admit how good you make me feel? Is that not enough? You want me to cry out how amazing your cock feels inside me?"

Then she couldn't help her next words.

"Should I call you daddy?"

Oh, that got him. He hissed as the hand on her throat tightened. "You're a menace."

"A menace you enjoy fucking?"

His lips curled into a snarl. "I'm going to wipe that smug look off your face."

Only then he began to thrust back into her roughly. A series of breathy, needy gasps fell out of her as she held tight onto his forearm that was holding her by her throat. His other hand on her clit circled around roughly, touching her just right that she entirely lost it, her hips quaked against him as he groaned out in response, her walls clenching his cock.

Then his hand left her clit a few moments later, instead landing hard on her ass with a sharp smack that sounded throughout the room. His fingers dug into the flesh there as his hips began clumsily ramming into her, his cock twitching inside of her. The stimulation was too much for her that she clamped a hand over her mouth, trying to keep quiet as he stretched her harshly, the delicious burn only adding to the pleasure.

"You're still holding back?" He taunted, bringing back his hand before another loud smack rang in her ears, her ass burning from the pain. "Let that voice out, no one's going to hear you."

It was amazing how long she could hold in her pleasure because now her walls were starting to crumble when a particularly deep and brutal thrust had his cock hitting her just right. And then, it happened—the dam of restraint finally burst. A low moan escaped her lips, a primal cry of pleasure that echoed through the room like a song of surrender

"That's it," he grunted. "You sound so pretty."

As the sensations intensified, her breaths came in shallow gasps, her heart pounding in her chest. Once she let herself go, she couldn't stop herself from moaning out his name, to which he responded with his own moan, especially when she clenched around him even tighter.

"You gonna come for me now?" She helplessly nodded, not trusting herself to form any coherent words, squirming her hips against him for more. "Go on then," he demanded, his lips brushing the shell of her ear. "Come for me."

She finally snapped as she gave in to the sensation that had been gradually crawling its way up her spine. Pleasure was soon coating every inch of her and as her eyes closed. She didn't bother to muffle her cries this time as she fell apart around his cock, her body convulsing as he continued to thrust inside her, forcing the pleasure to keep growing stronger and stronger until small black spots started to appear in her vision.

When her climax had washed over, she was left dizzy and breathless, still leaning against him. His loud panting breaths quickly filled her ears, his chest heaving beneath her head and she could tell by the way his hips were fluctuating in their pace, the feel of his throbbing cock inside of her, that he was very close to his release.

Panic suddenly crept into her daze state and she craned her neck to look back. "Don't you dare finish inside me, I swear to god—"

Very abruptly he slipped his cock out from inside of her, his arms releasing their hold on her just as fast before turning her to face him.

"Get on your knees."

The ground scraped her skin as she quickly sank onto her knees, and just because he looked so damn good tethering in his pleasure as she stared up at him, she gripped his cock in her hands and took him fully in her mouth.

"Fuck," the gravel in his voice was prominent, her lips gliding effortlessly down his shaft until her nose hits his stomach. His hand finds its way into her hair as she kneeled there before him, fisting a bunch of it at the scalp, desperately needing something to tie him down to reality.

She slid back off his cock to take just his head inside her mouth, swirling her tongue around it before flattening it against his tip, licking a fat stripe while looking up at him through her lashes. Spencer sucked in a sharp breath, tightening the grip on her hair.

Maintaining his gaze, she took him completely down her throat again, essentially swallowing him, holding herself there until she gagged around him. She could taste him on her tongue as she continued to repeat the motion, tears welling at her lids and saliva building at her lips, seeping down her chin.

He groaned at the sight.

"I-I'm gonna come—"

And he did. She felt lightheaded as the first shot of liquid filled her mouth, and then he jutted his hips a few more times before another surge of his release spilled down her throat. She swallowed him whole, swallowed every drop of him into her mouth as he continued to look down in wonder. She never thought of ever being in this position, but now she decided there was nothing else more satisfying than to watch her rival come undone from her touch.

Although she couldn't dwell in her contentment for long because as she released him from her mouth, the sound of the door rattling waked her senses. Panic flashed in her eyes as they met his gaze, and they instinctively stepped apart before sprinting into action, Spencer tucking himself back in his pants, while she quickly got to her feet and pulled down her skirt, scurrying to the other side of the room.

It wasn't until she spotted her underwear laying by his feet that she realized she was still naked underneath. Spencer followed her line of sight and just as the door creaked, he bent down and quickly grabbed the fabric, shoving it in his pocket at the same time their friend entered the room.

"There you are," Luke sighed in relief, casting them both a look. "We've been searching everywhere for you guys. Are you both alright? I thought I heard screaming."

In that fleeting moment, they both exchanged a glance laden with unspoken messages, each silently urging the other to maintain composure.

"Yes. I-uh." She cleared her throat, struggling to suppress the heat rising to her cheeks, willing herself not to betray the blush that threatened to expose what went on before this. "I was screaming for help."

Luke watched them with keen eyes, skepticism etched upon his face. A subtle tension crackled in the air, barely noticeable to most but not escaping the scrutiny of his gaze. He watched as Spencer hid his face behind a file he was holding, and she was studying her nails as if they were the most interesting thing in the world.

He narrowed his eyes but didn't say anything, before stepping back towards the door again. "Well, come on, there's a new lead on the case. Everyone's waiting."

When he finally left them alone again, she let out a breath she wasn't aware of holding and quickly held out her hand. Spencer raised his eyebrows at her. "What?"

"My underwear?"

He stared at her empty hand, then at her face, and shrugged nonchalantly, leaving her dumbfounded as he started to leave the room before the door closed on them again.

"Reid," she hissed, following behind him. "Give it back."

He looked over his shoulder and gave her a smile, or something close to it because even after what happened a few minutes ago his smile was far from looking genuine. "Come by my place after work and I might give it to you."

Her steps faltered.

"Might?"

But his back was already facing her as he strode down the hallway. She stood there, feeling extremely exposed wearing nothing but her own skin underneath her skirt, and the only way to get back her missing piece of clothing was to force herself in his presence again.

She closed her eyes and sighed, not sure what she felt right now was either anger or exhaustion. Probably both—no, wait, definitely both.

Because what the fuck did she get herself into?

.

Quick question, if I make a taglist for my one-shots does anyone want to be added?

#spencer reid x you #spencer reid x female reader #spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid smut #spencer reid x fem!reader #spencer reid x self insert #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid #spencerreid #spencer reid x oc #spencer reid x fem!reader smut #spencer reid x fanfiction #spencer reid fic #criminal minds #criminal minds fanfic #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid fanfiction #Spotify

[rafeandonlyrafe]

chat part two

words: 700

warnings: 18+ only, cockwarming, p in v, very fluffy compared to part one i just wanted an excuse to write cockwarming sorry!, established relationship, streamer!rafe, gamer!rafe

part one / part two

“no, don't go.” you whine, gripping onto rafes hand, trying to pull him back down on the bed.

“im supposed to stream soon, baby.” rafe says, leaning back down to press a kiss against your lips.

you usually don't mind when he has to go stream, but you're feeling incredibly clingy today as you tug at his hand again when he doesn't lay back down, doesn't continue the cuddle session.

“why don't you come with me?” he offers. “you can sit on my lap while i play?”

that has you perking up, nodding rapidly. “can you carry me to your stream room though?”

your legs work perfectly fine, but that doesn't stop you from wanting rafe to carry you around everywhere, loving the way your bodies can stay pressed together.

rafe smiles softly, reaching down to scoop you into his arms. “you're lucky you're so damn cute.”

“love you.” you coo, pressing your lips to his neck as he carries you out of the bedroom and down the hallway. you don't hide the fact that your kisses quickly turn to sucks as you leave a hickey for everyone to see, yet again claiming your territory, not that rafe let's anyone even get close enough to try anything.

rafe sits down in his gamer chair and you quickly adjust to straddle him, your chests pressed together as he begins clicking buttons, setting up his stream.

“remember that time i sucked you off on live?” you ask with a small giggle.

“yeah, i remember how much shit i got from twitch.” rafe chuckles, dropping one hand to squeeze your ass. “totally worth it.”

“maybe… maybe i could sit on it?” you don't form the actual words, just alluding to what you're really asking for.

rafe hums, thinking it over briefly. he almost got his twitch partnership revoked, it even went as far as to threaten a ban despite nothing actually being seen. 

“you gotta actually sit still though.” he says. having your tight cunt wrapped around him will be well worth the possibility of a ban. plenty other streaming services would jump at the chance to have him exclusively anyways.

“promise.” you kiss rafes jaw as you slide your shorts and underwear off. rafe adjusts the camera, zooming it in more and changing the angle so there's no possible chance for your ass to be on screen as you pull his cock out of his pants.

“gonna start the stream now. get me hard then get on my cock.” rafe says, waiting for you to nod before clicking the button to start the live.

your body hides his privates as well, the camera just seeing rafe from the chest up as well as the back of your head.

“babygirl is feeling clingy today so she's joining me.” rafe says as the viewers start to roll in. “isn't she just the cutest?”

you smile, turning your head slightly to grin at the camera before focusing back on what you really want.

you wrap your hand around rafes cock, stroking him subtly until he's hard enough for you to raise your hips, hovering against his tip before slowly sinking down.

you let out a soft moan, remembering to press your mouth against his shirt to muffle the noise.

it's hard to stay still, but your eyes drift close and eventually as rafe streams, the gnawing need to get fucked or move decreases, and you find yourself enjoying the stillness.

“love you so much bun.” rafe whispers, kissing the side of your head as you're slumped against him.

“couple more games and ill be done, yeah?”

“um…” you glance at the time, blinking away the bit of sleep. rafe is always down to end a stream whenever you want, but you also don't want to force him to stop early. “im actually okay. you can keep going.”

“really?” he laughs as a new game begins. “not desperate to start bouncing?”

you shake your head no. “i actually kinda like just this.” you admit softly, laying your head back down.

rafe keeps streaming, his cock inside of you, warm and secured, your bodies secretly connected while you sleep on his shoulder, chat going crazy about how cute you are sleeping against him, wishing they were in your position.

rafe smirks seeing the comments. if only they knew.

taglist: @drewstarkeyslut @forstarkey @f4ll-for-you @dilvcv @drudyslut @jjmaybankswifes-blog @rafescokenostril @jjsmarijuana @seeingstarks @angelofcigs @cece45450 @babygorewhore @vanessa-rafesgirl @michelleisheres-blog @outerbankspov @drewstarkeyswifehoe @cutielando @sourkittie @rafeyslove @rafeinterlude @bellbottombaby @deeaardiary @rubixgsworld @wearemadeofstardust0 @leighbronk @starkeysheart @pradabambie @tobesolovelysstuff @akirkland @rafestar @brioffthegrid @juniebugg @magicalyoura @cokepewpsii @mysticallystilinski @luvdella @aerangi @vogueprincess @auryyz @raysmayhem-72 @thestarlithideout @marvelfanfics1recs @rafesgiirl @ditzyzombiesblog @chiaraanatra @tobiaslut @drewsephrry @1aarii1 @edszn @theoraekenslover

#rafe smut #rafe cameron smut #obx smut #outer banks smut #rafe fic #rafe fanfic #rafe fanfiction #rafe cameron fic #rafe cameron fanfic #rafe cameron fanfiction #rafe x you #rafe x y/n #rafe x oc #rafe x reader #rafe cameron x you #rafe cameron x y/n #rafe cameron x oc #rafe cameron x reader #rafe drabble #rafe blurb #rafe imagine #rafe one shot #rafe cameron drabble #rafe cameron blurb #rafe cameron one shot #rafe cameron imagine

[krypticcafe]

Okay so we’ve got the boys reacting to being called babygirl, but how would their partner react to being babygirlified??

When they call you babygirl (COD:MWII)

rating: mature

character(s): GN!Reader, Kyle "Gaz" Garrick, John Price, John "Soap" McTavish, Simon "Ghost" Riley, König, Gary "Roach" Sanderson, Hound

warning(s): language, suggestiveness, angst, a smidge of a graphic injury, general military violence, no beta read haha

a/n: reminder to all my gn and masc readers that I'm using babygirl in a gender-neutral context and so is the reader!! Also, I can't guarantee that it'll all be lighthearted as the last part but I can guarantee y'all eatin good tonight :)))

Previous

Gaz

Funnily enough, he purrs it out when you come to bed after a long day of work, pulled into his side the moment you laid down.

"How's my babygirl doing? Good, yeah?"

You're stunned, surprised at the fact that he even used it at all.

He's amused by your reaction and presses a soft kiss to your head, making a mental note to use it more often like this.

Like him, you try not to fall too into the feeling, but he already knows the effect on you.

Luckily for you, he doesn't abuse it, but almost torments you with it, using it in private or a soft tone that only you can hear.

But you like it. It's intimate, a little special in how he uses it to get you smiling or flustered. Much like a lot of other aspects of your relationship, it's something you can trust him with and be respectful about.

Most of the time, you'll find him using it on a sleepy morning, arms around your waist with his chest against your back and his face nestled on your shoulder blade, mumbling a "mornin'" or a "how'd you sleep last night?"

For him, it's best when he can get real close to you and just pour his affections out with that simple little nickname.

He watches you stumble out of bed while he pours a cup of coffee for the two of you and smiles innocently when he offers it.

"Sleep well last night, baby-"

"You are so damn lucky I love you." You warn, taking the cup and rolling your eyes when he laughs.

Don't worry, he knows he's one lucky bastard.

Price

"Atta soldier, how's my babygirl holding up?"

He's watching proudly from afar while you finish pummeling through a group of enemies like it's nothing.

"Doin' alright Captain, we're clear to push on." You respond with confidence.

But you don't tell him that his comment through the comms alone nearly threw you off your rhythm.

He uses it again when you're all at the pub celebrating another landmark success, subtly bragging while half-drunk about how you carried the team today.

A part of you is mortified not just because Price tends to open up a little too much when he's drunk, but also because you hated the fact that you liked hearing him call you that in the first place, how you didn't need a drink for your mouth to get dry and your face warm. Not to mention it was in public—practically a declaration that you belonged to him.

Not that you minded.

His grip grows firm on your side while he speaks with admiration, your face grows warm since one, he was calling you that in front of so many others, and two, he didn't just hand out praise to anyone so when he meant it, he really meant it.

Later when you're both headed to your shared quarters, he asks, "So were you havin' a fever earlier or..?"

Of course he noticed.

You explain to him it just caught you off guard, that's all. Especially when he says it in such a way.

In the back of your head, you hoped he'd be too drunk to remember this in the morning but knowing him...

"I see... well then, we'll just have to put that to the test tonight, won't we?"

You have no objections.

Soap

"There's my babygirl, been lookin' for that smile since we been back."

After a particularly rough mission, Soap had been glued to your side for the past hour or so, talking it out with you.

When a particularly dumb joke of his finally cracked you, that's when he said it.

You groan, still laughing while leaning your head into his shoulder, muttering about how "irresistibly insufferable" he could be sometimes.

"So you admit I'm irresistible?"

That gets him a lighthearted punch on his chest and some more hearty laughter out of the two of you.

You now find him using it here and there to get a smile out of you. He's got an eye for when you're a little more tense or stressed than usual.

He doesn't use it in excess either, he's sweet and soft about it, not as casual with the pet names as some would think.

Oh, but don't take it for granted because he can and will tease you. You like to blame him for your ability to keep your guard up for so long and for his ability to somehow find new ways to break it again and again.

And while you think it's a horribly corny pet name, you know he has nothing but good intentions, and you can't ignore the way it makes your heart flutter.

He loves it too, he's a sucker for giving and receiving cheesy nicknames, stuff that really gets a reaction out of you but doesn't cross the line.

"If you don't like it, then why dinnae you give me a different thing to call you?" Cue the McTavish SmirkTM, and you wonder what he has planned this time. And like how you got yourself into this relationship- you decide to humor him.

"You already call me 'love' and 'sugar', I don't think you need any more to torment me with, McTavish."

"I don't know... I'm thinkin' 'my fiancé' sounds pretty damn good."

"But I'm not your-"

Oh.

Oh.

Ghost

You're thrown into the air and onto the ground after a blast hits, one so loud that you're left hearing nothing for several seconds.

Out of the chaos, you hear Ghost call your name, and you try to stand only to fall back into a pair of arms.

"It's me- it's me." He lowers you down onto his lap and looks over you, "Fucking hell... what did they do to you?"

You realize what he's talking about when you try to hold yourself while gasping for breath, but find a cold metal rod jutting out of your abdomen.

"Okay, I'm gonna get you up, we're gonna get to the others-" He halts when you scream out in pain and lowers you back down.

"Nonono- please Simon, it hurts, it fucking hurts so much I can't-"

His heart breaks at the sound of you choking on words, holding you closer, and trying to reassure you (and himself because he's never had his heart pounding so hard and his mask feel so damn suffocating and god dammit he can't afford to lose someone again-)

"I know, I know, I got you babygirl, I got you. It's alright now, but I'm not leaving you like this. You're gonna be alright, it's gonna be okay."

You can only nod your head, tightening your hold around his neck when he carries you. It feels pathetic every time you let out a yelp or sob of pain, but Simon's patient, he's constantly giving you reassurance and letting you know that there's just a bit more left to go. At some point, you let exhaustion take over your body.

Thankfully, you wake up laying in an infirmary bed, with a sleepless Simon at your side. "How are you feeling?" He asks.

"Could be better," You cringe at how hoarse your voice is and thank Simon when he gives you a cup of water, "You seem worse than me to be honest."

"Yeah? 'n whose fault is that? Oh right, the one who took a pipe to the stomach."

Rolling your eyes, you try to remember the last things you saw before blacking out and smirk to yourself when it comes back to you.

"So, since when were you a "babygirl" type of guy? Is it a common thing in Manchester, or are you just that soft for me, Lieutenant?"

"Maybe I should've just left you there." He groans, and you scoff, laughing as you shove at him. Even if he's shit with words, you know deep down he would never have the guts to do so.

Only a fool would.

König

Let's be honest, he'd only really say it after you've said it to him.

You don't push him, knowing he just has trouble trying to get a natural feel for it and it's not a huge deal. Plus, you already adore all the other names he's given you, most of which are more familiar and natural for him to say with them being in his native language.

Unfortunately, one night at the bar, you find someone else directing the particular nickname at you.

"Hey babygirl, what's a cutie like you doing all alone here?"

But fortunately, you were in fact, not alone.

Konig rises from the barstool behind you and his height alone should have the person pissing their pants.

"You should mind whose 'babygirl' you're talking to, arschloch."

You know what? Close enough.

You turn back to check on König and wow, that. Is. A. Sight.

König's chest rises and falls with his aggravated breathing and you find yourself lost in how intense his glare is while he watches the person scamper away. His words are on a loop in your head with how the rasp and snarl in his voice have your stomach twisting and your heart running laps.

You'd never admit it to him, but you have to repress all of your urges whenever he gets like this on the battlefield. Christ.

"You alright?" You breathlessly sigh, wrapping a hand around his.

His tension instantly melts at your touch and you smile at that.

"I should be asking you that..." He murmurs, almost ashamed as if he had any reason to be.

"Oh I'm more than fine now."

An idea comes to you.

"I'd be even better if you can tell me what you just said to them, perhaps in private? I don't think I can hear with how noisy it is in here" You snicker, tugging him closer.

You just absolutely know he's burning under that hood when his eyes go wide.

"I'm just kidding, liebe," you chuckled, taking another sip of your drink, "But honestly? That was kinda hot. Whaddya say we get outta here and cuddle tonight?"

His response is a quick and eager nod, making you laugh and whisk him away to your quarters.

Roach

Ah if only you weren't such a curious soul.

You overheard some of your teammates call each other "babygirl", which made you wonder if there was a sign for it.

You blurted out this question to your boyfriend, not thinking much of it because, hey, you always asked him about signs you weren't sure of or hadn't quite learned yet, or in this case, pure curiosity.

He stares at you dumbfounded before signing the words.

"Oh, so it's literally just 'baby' and 'girl'?"

He nods, "Yeah. What, do you want me to start calling you that or something?"

He lets out stifled laughs when he sees the look of realization on you before you throw your burning face in your hands.

"I'm a damn idiot."

"I know you are."

You nearly strangle him for that comment.

You make him forget about the conversation, but he keeps the thought in the back of his head for future reference because oh you are so gonna regret this >:)

After a mission, he comes up to you and asks, "How'd it go? My babygirl didn't get too roughed up this time, did you?"

"No, I'm good, wasn't a huge bust-" You stop organizing your gear right then and there, mentally replay what he signed, and slowly turn your head, narrowing your eyes at him. "-you little shit! I told you forget about that!"

"But you like it, don't you? You're trying so hard not to smile right now!" He gushes.

"Sanderson, I'm gonna kill you!" You run after him, chasing him around before tackling him down to the ground.

"I could get used to this." He muses, "Maybe you should call me babygirl, kinda suits me too. Oh! We should get matching patches, don't you think?"

"..."

"Wait where are you going—"

Hound

This time, you had been separated from your team for days after a mission had gone horribly wrong, with no way to communicate otherwise you'd all be jeopardized before you could be rescued.

You didn't even know if there was a rescue.

Just your luck, an enemy had you cornered with the audacity to use your own gun against you. And it was your last one, too. You brace for impact only to see them get knocked out while a voice called out your name.

It was Hound. They immediately run up to you, checking you all over, hands hovering around you worriedly, "Did he hurt you? Christ, they told me that you'd be in danger if I went but shit, how am I supposed to wait when—"

They stopped the moment you began to tremble, instantly pulling you into a tight embrace, and tucking your head in their shoulder.

"Hey hey, c'mere, it's okay. I'm here now, you're gonna be alright, it's okay." He softly repeats, and you weep in relief. "Oh babygirl... they can't hurt you anymore, I promise."

It was warm and safe.

You were warm and safe.

Hound spends the evening tending to you (you told them they didn't have to, it wasn't like you had major injuries), doing your paperwork for you, getting you food, and cleaning you up.

But all you want is to get your mind away from the events of the past few days, a distraction to feel good, feel safe, and feel loved, and he happily complies with your every need for the night.

"Figured you'd need some help after last night... sorry about that." They sheepishly mumble.

You wake up the next morning in your shared quarters, sore but in a pleasant way. The door opens and it's none other than your partner with a plate from the mess hall.

You pull them down for a quick kiss and thank them, telling them not to worry about it as you take the plate.

"You need anything else babygirl, or-"

You choke on a piece of scrambled egg, and they're already rubbing your back, holding back laughter.

"Whoops, should've waited until you were done, I didn't think you'd get so- I mean I thought after last night—" He's practically giggling now and while you'd normally relish in such a rare sight, you whine at him.

"But seriously, if you need anything, I'm there in a heartbeat."

You nod and thank whatever higher being out there for such a patient partner.

a/n pt2: hope the ghost and hound bbygirls enjoyed the "creative liberties" I took because I know I did teehee- anyways lmk how y'all feeling after that :)))

#x reader #cod x reader #call of duty x reader #call of duty #cod #codmwii #codmw2 #call of duty modern warfare 2 #gaz x reader #kyle gaz garrick x reader #captain price x reader #john price x reader #soap x reader #john soap mctavish x reader #ghost x reader #simon ghost riley x reader #könig x reader #roach x reader #gary roach sanderson x reader #task force 141 x reader #hound x reader #cod oc #call of duty oc

[strangersteddierthings]

Shovel Talk(s) Part One

Part One 🦇Part Two🦇Part Three🦇Part Four

Steve and Eddie aren't even together when Steve gets the Shovel Talk from Eddie's uncle, but it is what tips Steve into talking to Eddie about his feelings, so he's not upset by it.

They aren't dating, not because he doesn't want Eddie, because he absolutely does. It's just that he wants to be sure Eddie wants him back. There are times when he's sure, when Eddie gets into his space a bit too close, or more often, than he does with anyone else. Eddie calls him a thousand and one nicknames, ranging from sweet to irritating but just when Steve thinks that's a perk left just for him, Eddie hands someone else a new nickname (just the one, a voice in Steve's head that sounds suspiciously like Robin says).

Not that any of that is the point. Wayne wouldn't bother to give Steve a shovel talk at all unless he knew how Eddie felt. Wayne is a man of action, and he's never done anything unless it mattered. Meant something. Steve and Wayne have sat in plenty of (what Steve considers to be) awkward silences because Wayne doesn't talk to fill the void of silence.

The point is, Steve drops Eddie off at the house the government so graciously bought for the Munsons, walks Eddie to the door and giving Eddie a hug goodbye. He stays on the porch until Eddie shuts the door and then nearly jumps out of his skin when he hears Wayne call out his name.

"Harrington," Wayne says from the shadows of the wrap around porch.

So, Steve jumps and it's only then he notices that Wayne is sitting at the table and chairs set up on the porch. "Mr. Munson, sir, hi. Hello."

Wayne lets out a chuckle, but it doesn't really sound amused. "I have come to accept that you are nothing like your father, boy, but I do want to make it clear to you, that Eddie means more to me than anything else on this Earth."

"I know, sir."

"I know you do. And while I will forever be grateful that you helped return him to me alive, know that I will not hesitate to make you disappear if you hurt my boy in a way he can't bounce back from."

Steve's not afraid of Wayne, not really, but that doesn't stop him from feeling the need to flee. He doesn't, though, because he'd gotten enough shovel talks from concerned parents in high school, and he knows they can sense weakness. "I can't promise I'd never hurt him, sir, but I can promise it'll never be intentional."

He can't actually see Wayne's face in the darkness but he feels sized up all the same.

"I believe that, Steve," Wayne says, and it's the first time Steve's ever heard his name leave the man's mouth, "now go home."

-

Wayne's shovel talk was expected. Robin's is not.

"You took Eddie on a date date?" She whispers it as though they aren't alone in Steve's living room. They're laying on the floor in a line, heads next to each other so if they turn slightly to the side they can make eye contact. Steve's not sure why they always end up on the floor for Serious Talk Time.

"Yeah," Steve says, looking away from Robin's face to stare up to the ceiling, "I mean, sorta? We can't like... be open that it was a date, but we went to dinner and a movie and it was nice. Shared a popcorn and played footsie under the diner table."

"Whoa," Robin says. "I never thought you'd- didn't think you'd be brave enough to ask him."

"Me either."

"Steve," Robin sounds serious, so Steve turns to look at her. She studies his face for a moment before she's the one to look away, speaks to the ceiling, "be careful with Eddie, yeah?"

"What? Careful how?"

"I just think you could really fuck him up," Robin says. "You're his first boyfriend, right? That's going to set a precedent for relationships that might happen if you two don't work out. And I hate to say this, because I know you've changed, but like, I saw how a lot of those girls you dated in high school ended up when you broke up with them."

Steve's a little hurt, because Robin's his best friend. She should be giving this talk to Eddie, not him. But, also, he understands. He knows that Robin knew about Eddie's sexuality before he did, knows they bonded over being queer while Steve was still figuring himself out.

Steve also knows that Eddie's never been in a relationship before, Eddie'd told him at much when Steve asked him out. Steve doesn't like that Robin implied that he and Eddie will eventually break up, but no matter how much that thought makes Steve's heart ache, he won't know if it'll happen unless it does.

He just doesn't understand why she seems to think he'll be the one breaking Eddie's heart. It could go the other way.

"Did you OD over there?" Robin asks, trying to lighten the mood.

"No," Steve answers, "I'll be careful."

-

They've been on four more dates before Nancy knocks on his door. She doesn't accept his invitation to come inside. Just starts speaking on his doorstep.

"As Eddie's Capital P Soulmate," is how she starts that sentence, and it makes something hurt deep inside Steve as he tries not to think about Robin, "I am obligated to remind you that I do own several guns now. And I don't miss."

"Jesus Christ," Steve says, because even Wayne was more subtle, "I got it."

"Good. I do know you'd never hurt him on purpose," Nancy says but Steve doesn't feel reassured.

He thinks that, if she really didn't think he's going to end up hurting Eddie she wouldn't have said anything at all. "Right."

"Well, good talk Steve," and then she's walking down the driveway and climbing into her car.

He closes the door and goes to the kitchen to get himself a beer, mostly so he has something to do besides stew in his emotions. He wonders if Eddie has been given the shovel talk, too? Maybe Robin did the same thing Nancy just did. Showed up unprompted, threatened Eddie with some sort of bodily harm, and then just left.

Steve grabs the phone and dials Eddie's number.

"Hello?" Eddie's voice greets him, albeit questioningly.

"Eddie, it's Steve."

"Oh, hello sweetheart," Eddie says, "are you calling for business or pleasure?"

Steve laughs, "business."

"Boo!"

"Listen, uh, I had a question. I just wanted to know if anyone's said anything to you. About us. Or, y'know, specifically about us and our relationship?"

"Uh, not really? A few congratulations, I guess. Why? Did someone say something?" Eddie's voice is level, almost too level, so Steve knows he's trying to keep cool.

"Oh, no! No! I mean, aside from the scary shovel talk from- Wayne, everyone's been surprisingly cool about it. Very supportive," Steve says and even though it's true, everyone they've told has been cool about it, it feels a little bit like a lie.

Eddie laughs, "I can't believe my uncle gave you a shovel talk! You know, I keep expecting to get one from Robin but so far nothing. She must think you're safe in my capable hands."

Steve is safe in Eddie's hand, he thinks, but that doesn't stop the sting that goes through him. "Of course, she does. You've been a perfect boyfriend."

There's a pause before Eddie's voice comes through the phone, soft and quiet, "I'm glad you said so. I want to be. For you."

"You're not allowed to say those kinds of things when you aren't within kissing distance, babe," Steve says, because if he doesn't add humor to this conversation, he's going to tell Eddie he loves him instead, and even Steve knows that saying that a month into dating is too soon, especially over the phone where he can't see Eddie's reaction.

Eddie laughs and makes kissing sounds at him before the conversation shifts to chatting about the day and making plans for the weekend.

-

Steve is trying really hard to not be the person he was in high school but every time he gets to the point where he's being a better person, someone brings up how he used to be. Shoves it back into his face that no matter what Steve does he can't outrun his past.

One such time is shortly after Steve and Eddie accidentally come out as a couple to all of Hellfire. Steve was just dropping off the boys and had stepped inside to chat a bit. Once game time had arrived it had and Steve made to leave, they'd (he and Eddie) had been on autopilot. Eddie'd whined 'where's my goodbye kiss?' and Steve had stepped over, kissed him goodbye, and was out the door before it had actually computed.

Steve had burst back through the door, rushing back to Eddie, because no way in Hell was he going to leave his boyfriend to deal with whatever the consequences would be alone.

It had been absolute chaos at the table with people shouting over each other.

"Of all the people you could be with, you picked Steve!? You could do better!" Mike had whined, and Steve had thought for sure he was the only one who had heard Mike until he saw Will punch his arm and hiss his own 'don't be a dick' at Mike.

It took almost half an hour to calm everyone down. It was a relief to know that Eddie had come out to his bandmates/the older Hellfire members already. The kids took it in stride, in the end, and Eddie had shoo'd Steve away.

Jeff had excused himself, too, and Steve thought he was just going to use the bathroom but instead he followed Steve outside.

Ah. Steve knows what's coming.

"Harrington," Jeff says, "can't say I'm excited that you're the secret boyfriend Eddie's constantly sighing wistfully about. I'm sure Wayne's already threatened you," And Robin, and Nancy, and Mike doesn't think he's good enough, "but if you hurt Eddie-"

"I get it! There will be dire consequences if I hurt Eddie," Steve snaps, not down for hearing it anymore. He stomps to his car and peels away from the curb without bothering to look back.

-

If he's being honest, Steve didn't even know he had a breaking point with shovel talks until he gets his fifth one from Dustin.

It's not even a shovel talk. It's just a single sentence, said almost a month after Dustin learned about their relationship. He's dropping Dustin off after their DnD game. Normally Claudia picks him up, but she's busy tonight and asked Steve to do it.

"Alright, Henderson, safely delivered."

"Thanks, Steve," Dustin says, unbuckles his seatbelt, and opens the door, before turning back to Steve. He just looks at him for a moment.

"What?"

"I'm happy for you and Eddie. Just, don't hurt him, ok?"

He nods his head but can't say anything. Dustin grabs his backpack, shoots him a smile, and climbs out. Steve does wait until Dustin closes the front door behind him before putting the car back in gear.

He manages to get home, somehow, because Steve doesn't fully remember the drive. It's not that his mind was so focused on something else that made him fail to take in his surroundings, but rather that his mind wasn't even a part of his body anymore.

One moment he was pulling away from the Henderson residence, and the next, he was home, just standing in his kitchen in the dark. And now that his thoughts are back, or easier to process, he finds himself wondering why everyone thinks that he's going to be the one to hurt Eddie.

How many people has he hurt that this is his reputation? Is it inevitable that he will hurt Eddie? Is it truly just a matter of time until he breaks Eddies heart? Why is everyone so convinced that he will?

Briefly the thought occurs to him that maybe he should call up Eddie and break up with him right now, before Eddie has a chance to get in deep enough that Steve could break his heart, but just the thought of it breaks Steve's heart, so he's not going to do that. Doesn't want to do that. That would just be punishing Eddie for something he didn't do.

None of this is Eddie's fault, and Steve's an asshole for even thinking of breaking up with him because of it. Which feeds him back into the loop of thinking that maybe everyone is right about him. He is an asshole and will someday hurt Eddie, perhaps even on purpose.

He loves Eddie. He's in love with Eddie. But does loving him mean proving his friends wrong? Or does it mean leaving him before they're proven right?

He wants to ask everyone why they think he'll hurt Eddie.

He wants to ask everyone why they don't care if he's the one that gets hurt.

#steddie #my fic #we like making steve a sad emotional mess right guys? #steve-centric #we gotta make the boy Sad so that his boyfriend can fix him #is that healthy? not IRL but this is fanfic and if i want Love to solve all the problems then im allowed to do that #only itll be in part two #that might get written one day #is steve putting words into his friends' mouths #yeah duh the boy needs therapy but its the 80s so hes not getting any

[kalims]

Can I please request any Twst character seeing their crush kiss their tsum?

⊹ kissing their tsum tsum

premise. maybe leaving their tsum somewhere to come back to wasn't such a good idea anymore when it's clearly taking the attention of the person they like.

parts. floyd (i somehow forgot him help)

content. gender neutral reader

characters. riddle, leona, jack, epel, sebek

cw. written by someone who hasn't played through the event and does not know shit lol

note. are they just plushies??? or do they have a consciousness of their own??? I am so confused but wow I wrote somehow

I just slapped whoever had cards on the event onto here 😭 caters part is my favorite ugh

riddle rosehearts

left his tsum in it's custom made velvet chair to grab another jar of sugar since riddle didn't know it ran out.

and yes, he had one made for it. smaller version of his own and stuff, it literally has better privileges than any other resident of the dorm.

^ he totally drinks tea with it and believes that even if it isn't actually alive it's him and if this tsum didn't drink tea at the exact time for a specific rule he still feels like he broke one.

he even pours a cup for it hekasbkqkas.

I mean the liquid doesn't get drank by anyone obviously but riddle still does it.

so as he's walking back, opening the chair to take a peek to see if it's enough cubes once he closes it, and looks up he almost just trips on air and drops the glass jar.

he fumbles with the object for a second, blinking rapidly at the sight of you snuggling into his tsum then giving it little kisses every now and then, did he hear you calling it cute—?

"wha...what in the world are you doing?!"

"it's so adorable.." you mumble, hearing the boy but it just goes in one ear and out the other.

good lord he doesn't know whether he'd like to melt into a puddle, combust from his red face, or be that tsum.

should he be jealous? no. but is he? yeah. even if he's denying it severely.

next session the tsum was left with no tea and was promptly caged in his room in hopes that you would not do all that to his tsum, and to his real self instead.

leona kingscholar

I honestly don't think he would really care for it??

I mean wow. it looks like him. cool. whatever. what's he supposed to do with it? it's just a plush no need to work up so much for it.

not that doing effort for it benefits him in anyone but he just keeps it on his bed since he didn't really wanna go anywhere else and his bed just happened to be near so...

*yoink*

no one tells him this, especially not ruggie but he actually sleeps with it. an arm over it sometimes and usually coddling it in his arms.

trust me ruggie has proof.

100 madol for 5 seconds fr

well as usual it's in his bed just there in it's habitat just like the real leona kingscholar.

even someone like him takes the time to actually go to the bathroom so while he's gone, and when he's on his way back he immediately knows you're there.

that's a scent he can recognize anywhere (well duh. bro spent so long tryna engrave it) and if he can smell you so close to his destination then obviously you're in his room.

also he left the door slightly closed and it's more open than before so that's that.

just like anyone else he completely stops before he could open his mouth and is actually flabbergasted and flustered?

why are you kissing his tsum?? "that's kinda creepy ain't it?" he drawls but his tucked ears says I wanna be it so bad.

"guess i'm creepy then."

you say simply and go back to coddling the damn thing. leona scowls at the relevation. there's no way a small, lame version of him is gonna win you like that!

move over so you can enjoy the real thing >:(

jack howl

mr. everyday is leg, arm, everything day guy.

I believe he's more of an outdoors dude, a very sweet outdoors dude.

the kind of sweet outdoors dude that would buy a miniature plushie version of weights for his tsum so it can get the eveyday is leg, arm, everything day too.

cute thing is jack is actually so proud of himself 😭 evident from the cute lil' wag of tail he does.

he's so pure!!

and him and his tsum totally 'work out' together.

well it's mainly him but he likes to think that his tsum is too. if he's doing an exercise that doesn't require a lot of moving his tsum is just there somewhere with it's weights facing him.

if he's running he has it on his shoulders awww..

sometimes he can get a little distracted though. from his intense focus he didn't even hear you approaching, let alone sitting down and basically hogging his tsum all to yourself!

at some point you just made the tsum copy whatever the real jack does. jack is doing push-ups? damnn.. tsum is doing is so easily.

you get the point.

it's only then when jack notices when he hears you and mistakes your comment for him.

"ahh, you did great cutie.. so strong, so cute." he hears you mumble and turns pink before turning back to look at you and the happy movement of his wolf traits pause.

oh that wasn't for him.

jack stares in envy. HE SWEARS THAT TSUM JUST SMIRKED AT HIM.. LITERALLY TRAITOR.

man just feels betrayed.

cater diamond

absolutely adores him tsum to bits!!

ever since he got it he practically drags it everywhere and his magicam page is full of it.

I reckon cater named it. maybe dia(mond) or something, if not then the classic cater 2.0 which is funny cause now he got 3 clones!!

^ the other two and now lil' cater 🎤

which makes me wonder. it'd totally be cute if he had like, two other tsums that are copies of the result of his unique magic. now it's actually cater 2.0 for real!

cater 2.0 is definitely more popular than some students so you could go up to one and say: you know who this is *picture of random student*

they'll be like: ehh... can't say I do, or seen them before

you holding up a picture of cater 2.0: what about this?

them: oh thats cater 2.0 obviously!

random student crying in the backround.

IMAGINEEE (laughs in pain)

ahem. he likes to have his tsums (tsums cause he actually got 3 to match himself) around everywhere so he can incorporate them into his selfies.

also he needs to feed everyone more cater 2.0's content. there's cater D, cater I, and cater A who all spell out dia :DD big brain

in the music room of his club where's he's peacefully testing out a riff behind him his tsums lay..

so obviously he didn't hear you shuffle into the room, let out the quietest gasp ever and just take the three into your arms and look like you're in heaven.

you stay like that for a while, smiling and hugging the tsums cause wow were they just adorable! and there's three of them!

you all spare the three a sweet kiss before realizing that the music has stopped and cater is pouting at you.

"aw that isn't fair!" he whined, and smiles cheekily. "these guys and I want some of that too!" he points to his two splits that has recently conjured.

now you got three miniature caters that got the kiss, and three real caters that want one yayy!

sebek zigvolt

said he was not going to care for.. something like that and if there was anything like.. that, the only thing he'd care of was one of malleus'.

then said that 'he wanted to educate the plush' even though it was a plush. he's already contradicting himself here, where's the hate??

legit just rambled to the plush for an hour straight preaching about the greatness and glory of his young master.

where silver actually woke up from! silver!! crazy, right?

it must have been a lot of even silver rose from it.

said he was not going to spend anything on it unlike the other people who had spent a hefty amount of madol for the comfort of their tsum and for them alone.

but he figured.. just getting a small painting of the young master so the tsum would look at it everyday isn't too much of a stretch.

that's what he said before and now he's on his way to get another smaller version merch of malleus.

god forbid if malleus ever came inside the room cause he's just gonna see a lot of stuff.. but don't worry cause sebek atleast has a separate corner for all that.

'I will not care for it' my ass.

of course he had completely forgotten that he had invited you over and was outside fetching his blade he forgot to bring inside.

as per dorm rules! don't want it flying away anywhere if a.. *coughs* storm suddenly appears.

lilia had already invited you in and insisted it was fine for you to enter sebek's room beforehand even with your doubts he just pushed you in and you weren't in a place to argue when he didn't even budge when you tried to stop.

once you just walked around out of curiosity it was only in due time where you would see the plush.

an idea pops in your head.

sebek did not expect to see you inside his room.

let alone on his bed, with his tsum in your arms and you dutifully committing yourself into showering it with love and affection.

he's just flabbergasted, shocked to silence, every synonym near to those. but there's an increasing amount of steam pouring out of his ears as his face twitches more by the minute.

"WHAT ARE YO—"

you kiss it so casually that sebek shuts up and almost faints out of embarrassment and fluster.

WHAT IS GOING ON?? he's so confused. WHO LET YOU IN??

bat chuckling somewhere

epel felmier

would very much like to dress up his tsum.

he knows because vil already saw the tsum looking like a monstrosity covered in dirt and leaves, only spared a disappointed look but stayed silent.

not in the way you'd think cause he feels like he can do whatever he'd like to this tsum and vil wouldn't really care like the man would to real epel.

a hallelujah for him honestly.

he doesn't really put much love to his tsum but it's pretty cute that's all. rook finds it way more appealing than him though which he isn't sure how to interpret.

epel doesn't leave it just anywhere when it's outside of pomefiore. cause students there are polite and definitely would not wreck a plushie that looks exactly like him.

if he did the tsum would probably disappear on campus and be found in a dumpster.

*chills* cause he somehow feels for the tsum.

when he's angry he just vents to it and vents whenever. including the times he's just having a crisis about you.

if that tsum was alive godddd epel would be so exposed.

he left the tsum somewhere outside, in the middle of the garden.

he was practicing his make-up there, as per vil's instructions and went out to go fetch a product he had forgotten to grab along with the others.

he figured he might as well take a cup of water as a drink to go.

epel is just gulping down the water when it's just coincidence that he lowers the cup, sees you, there's water still in his mouth, then you give his tsum a little cute kiss so he just spits it all out.

OH MY GOD WHAT WAS THAT. he thought completely out of it. he stares intensely at the tsum.

he's definitely regretting venting to the tsum about you cause epel somehow thinks it's somehow alive and is now rizzing you up, with the knowledge HE gave IT!

he's so mad help 😭

*epel trying to aggressively rizz you up too*

"you don't need that." *snatches and throws the tsum away*

IN JEALOUSY.

meanwhile you watch it fly with sad eyes. :(

mad epel.

note. jesus christ I wrote all of this RIGHT AFTER I posted that /srs �� AND I DID ALL THIS IN LIKE AN HOUR HELP ME WHERE DID THAT COME FROM

commision me!

#twst #twst x reader #twisted wonderland #twisted wonderland x reader #twst fluff #twst imagines #twst scenarios #riddle rosehearts x reader #leona kingscholar x reader #cater diamond x reader #sebek zigvolt x reader #epel felmier x reader #riddle rosehearts #leona kingscholar #cater diamond #jack howl x reader #jack howl #twstnexus #ㅤ◜◡◝ . . signed !

[eightstarr]

baby — abby anderson.

summary: you're on patrol with abby and you make her squirt for the first time. you don't mean to make a habit out of distracting her, but in your defense, it's hard to focus on anything else when she looks so pretty all serious and focused on keeping you safe! and you are only so strong!

notes: i don't ever really write smut and it for sure shows but anyway here it is! what no one asked for! yet again! also excuse the surprising amount of feelings that are in this considering it's technically supposed to be porn? it wouldn't be me if someone didn't say i love you at least once tho

୨・┈﹕✦﹕﹕✦﹕┈・୧

"Do you have a danger kink or something?" Abby asks, trying to sound cool, but her breathing's a little too staggered for that. You've got her backed up against a counter in a random kitchen of a lonesome, old house.

You smooth your tongue over her pulse and feel her shudder, your hands sneaking under her loose shirt to cup her waist, fingers squeezing adoringly. "Can't I have some fun with my girl?"

"Yeah, but—" Abby cuts herself off with a moan that's almost embarrassing considering how little you're touching her. "You did this last time, too. It's like you want to get caught."

"Caught by who?" You scoff, lifting your head to look at her, nodding once as a silent way to say up. She abides without thinking, her palms against the counter as she pushes herself up to sit on top of it. You're needy enough that you don't bother teasing, no 'good girl', no 'what would your soldiers think if they saw you be so obedient?'. You slot yourself between her thighs and continue your assault on her neck, fingers brushing over chest. "There's no one here, baby."

Baby is perhaps your biggest tell. You call her baby when she's been away for too long, when you've had a long day and show up at her door unannounced, in the morning when you've woken up from a dream that left you aching that you refuse to share the details of no matter how much she asks. 'Baby' means you're desperate. And 'baby' makes Abby pull you closer, because nothing makes her need you more than you being desperate for her.

She lifts herself up enough to let you pull her cargo pants and boxers off in one motion, and her heart skips a beat as you sink to your knees, guiding her legs over your shoulders. She used to fret about that, fret about a lot of things— but the admittedly ridiculous thought of accidentally squeezing you to death was up there. You'd made the stupid joke, as anyone would, at least I'd die happy. But when that didn't quite work besides earning a roll of her eyes and a slight smirk to her lips, you'd simply gotten back to work on making her cum on your mouth until she had no choice but to close her legs around you. And when she did, the movement mindless and needy, you groaned and left loving fingerprints on her thighs enough to reassure her that you liked it. Loved it. You loved a lot of things that Abby used to be insecure about.

The point is, she shouldn't be shocked to see you get down on your knees. It's not an entirely unfamiliar sight anymore, you've made sure of that. But even on the first time you fucked, with all the eagerness and want and sense of overdue of your affections, Abby doesn't think she saw you quite this ravenous.

It's like you're drunk on it, like you didn't have her in a way not too different from this just a mere two days ago. You eat her like you're fucking starving. Not pulling away to breathe, your nose brushing against her clit just right, moaning every time she bucks her hips or pulls your hair.

When Abby cums, she feels it in her chest. It sinks on top of her, a lovely heaviness, and then drops off of her all together and leaves her weightless. When you don't stop, she breathes out a chuckle that turns into a broken moan and buries her fingers back in your hair, half expecting you to pull away still. But time passes, drags on and speeds away much too fast all at once, and you don't.

She's saying your name, she thinks, or a sound as close to it as her mind will allow her to formulate. Abby knows she's loud by the way her noises are echoing through the empty room, mocking her. Before she can feel embarrassed by it, as if you can read her mind as easily as anything else, you drag your mouth down and fuck into her with your tongue in a way that she didn't know could feel so good before she met you. As quickly as it came, the shame is gone. Her lips part and her sounds grow louder still, spilling out of her carelessly. You want to reward her, you think somewhere in the back of your mind, want her to know how much you love it. It's a privilege to make Abby Anderson a mess, and it always makes you lightheaded with need.

You wrap your mouth around her clit and suck, and Abby lets go of your head for once to grab onto the counter and make a lame attempt to keep herself still, her knuckles white.

The pressure building in her low abdomen is familiar, but then your hand comes to lay flat against the exact spot and something about the weight of it makes the feeling twist into something different.

Abby gasps quick breaths, her eyebrows furrowed in vague confusion and enough pleasure to drown it out and soothe the meaningless pain of bumping her head back against the wall.

"I'm gonna cum," she warns, barely legible. And it's fine, she thinks, it's just like every other time. But then she feels it start to unravel, finally, and it's the same but also not at all. "Fuck, wait, I think— fuck!" she's panting, shaking and forcing her gaze to refocus just to watch the way your eyes fall closed, the way your eyebrows furrow. You moan against her and the sound is loud even while suffocated, even though you've somehow managed to push your face closer to her, press your tongue deeper. Abby feels it gush out of her and it's nothing like anything she's felt before, so good and so much and she doesn't want it to ever end, even as she blabbers, "Oh my God. Oh my fucking God, I'm sorry. I'm sorry."

You don't seem to hear her, hungrier than she's ever seen you— you look fucking possessed. You pull back and the sight of you is dizzying, embarrassing, and it's the only thing Abby wants to look at for the rest of her life. Your lips are glistening, yes, but so is your chin, your cheeks, her cum dripping down your neck. Your eyes are dark, more pupils than anything else, and they swallow her whole. You haven't pulled back too far, your breath still hot against her, but it's enough that you can replace your mouth with your fingers and rub on her clit. What's left in her comes out in soft spurtz, dripping onto the floor, and you couldn't tear your eyes away if you tried.

But Abby doesn't know that, doesn't know what you're thinking at all. You're surprised, but is it in a bad way? It must be. Are you disgusted? You're so covered in her that it feels like you'll never be able to wash it off, and Abby can't read your mind like you do hers, so she doesn't know that the thought thrills you, that your heart is fucking pounding in your chest, that your underwear is utterly and completely fucking ruined. You lick your lips and swipe your chin with the back of your hand, absentminded. Abby's thinking, begging, say something.

"Holy fuck," is all you can manage, a quiet mutter, breathless. Your fingers haven't stopped rubbing, but a whine and an especially forceful quiver of her legs makes you blink and you stop like you've just come out of a trance, your hand moving instantly to soothe up and down her thigh.

"I'm sorry," Abby repeats, and then you look at her face like you've just remembered it's there.

Look up at her like she's fucking crazy, like she's grown a second head, mumbling, "What?"

"I didn't— I tried to warn you," she says, even though she doesn't know that she could've. It felt so foreign, she wouldn't have known how to explain it, really.

You lower her trembling thighs from your shoulders carefully, not before pressing a kiss against each one, and then you stand up. Abby wonders if this is where you'll tell her you didn't like that, where you'll help her put her clothes back on and then you'll promise each other to never speak of it again. Instead, your eyes grow impossibly gentle, impossibly loving, and you tuck yourself closer between her legs. The hem of your jeans brushes against her core and she gasps, but doesn't move away. "Baby," you call softly, pecking her lips. "Has this never happened to you before?"

Abby feels a little like she's suffocating, the breeze coming in through the window you'd opened when you first came in not enough to soothe her anymore. But you brush your knuckles over the faint scar on her cheekbone and her shoulders grow limp, her body relaxing except for where she's shaking— fuck, she is still fucking shaking. She remembers your question and shakes her head.

You don't show her how embarrassingly proud that makes you, that you made that happen before anyone else did, because it's not the time. You tuck the feeling in your pocket for later and hum, barely resisting the urge to kiss her, to get back on your knees until they're bruised and make her cum in whatever form she'll give you all over again. "Did it feel good?" You ask, not mocking, but curious.

If she wasn't so embarrassed, Abby would've laughed. It is very possible, and the thought does nothing to ease her shame, that nothing has ever felt so good. But admitting that feels like too much, so instead she whispers, "Yeah."

You smile, happy, genuinely relieved. "Then what are you saying sorry for?" You ask, kissing her again before you can help it. "That's my fucking job. I want you to feel good."

The words alleviate like water to a small fire, and Abby feels silly for having forgotten that it's you who she's with. She's had the thought before, but it suddenly becomes more present than ever, practically breathing down her neck— that she wants to keep you forever. Keep is maybe a bad word for it. She wants to be around you forever, for as long as you'll let her, wants to move into your shitty apartment and make you breakfast and sleep every night in your cropped shirts that fit slightly too tight and make her look ridiculous. She ought to say she loves you more often, she thinks. You say it nearly every time you see her now, like the words have been bubbling inside you for too long and now they can't be kept away. It's a fairly fresh relationship, but the feelings are ancient for both of you, and it shows.

"I love you," Abby sighs, and presses her lips against yours before you can say it back. It's sloppy, she's barely starting to come down from her high, but you don't complain. You kiss her with vigor, like you're trying to spell it out with your tongue, I love you. When you pull apart, her eyes fall from your eyes to your chest and she winces, eyes squeezing shut as her forehead falls on your shoulder.

"What?" You ask, a hand coming to cradle the back of her head immediately, without thought.

"Your shirt," she mumbles against you. You glance down and let out a soft oh. The white fabric of your tank top is soaked, mostly near the neckline, sticking to your skin. You hadn't noticed. Abby lifts her head to look at you, freckled face flushed red, so pretty that you forget about the mess she made of you all over again. "You have to change. We can't go back with you looking like that," she says— or begs, more like.

"I didn't bring anything else with me," you tell her, humming appreciatively as you look back down at your chest, grinning. "Besides, this is my favorite shirt now."

Abby groans, the kind of whiney, timid sound that you could've never imagined her making before you become her girlfriend. The kind of sound that makes you weak in the fucking knees, needy and cotton-mouthed. "It's not funny," she hides her face in her hands and huffs, "'S embarrassing."

You're chuckling, but biting into your lip to stifle it when she lowers her head further down, chin against her chest. With careful touch, you wrap your fingers around her wrists and guide her hands away from her face, leaning in to kiss her cheek. Her skin is hot beneath your lips, and you hum at the feeling of it. She's usually so cold, your Abby, freezing fingers sneaking under your shirt at night and making you shudder. It's a pleasure to make her warm, an honor to see her shy. You love her so much it tugs at you, a constant reminder.

"You're a dream, Abby. Fucking perfect," you say, as clearly as you can while dragging your lips down her neck. She's the hottest thing you've ever laid eyes on, so beautiful that sometimes you can't sleep, too excited that she's there next to you to ever close your eyes. And you need her to know, but you're not really one with words, so all that comes out is, "Nearly made me cum in my fucking pants, you know that?"

Abby moans. Her breath gets caught in her throat as you suck marks into her neck and she finds that she couldn't care less right now, about the evidence that'll be left on her skin or your stupid wet shirt. She guides your face up with a hand on the back of your neck, and kisses her flavor off your lips until she can't anymore, until her lungs burn and her lips tingle. Your voice echoes in her head. Nearly made me cum in my fucking pants. Nearly, she thinks. That doesn't sound very fair.

Thick fingers make quick work of your zipper, trailing over your lower tummy and sneaking under your underwear. She's a little fast, but you've never minded. Sometimes she'll notice and force herself to slow down, to savor, but most of the time her mind doesn't let her catch up to it. Like now. She can't worry about looking clumsy or overly-enthusiastic, because she just needs to feel you. Because she wants to check that you weren't lying, that she could've made you cum without ever touching you— and it's there, the overwhelming fucking truth of it soaking her hand. You gasp at the contact, and Abby's thighs squeeze you in place, as if you'd ever leave. "Jesus Christ," she pants. She finds herself saying it a lot lately. Jesus Christ. Oh my fucking God. Calling upon figures she doesn't believe in, delusional enough to think for a second that they'll bring some kind of comfort, release her of her sins.

You're so wet that it doesn't take more than a minute for her confidence to slowly grow back, so wet that it doesn't take more than two to make you cum. It's the fastest she's ever seen you fall apart, and it wouldn't be Abby if her immediate thought (right after that was so fucking hot) wasn't bet I can make it quicker. Her ego fizzles in her chest, warm and euphoric. Abby thinks she doesn't remember the last time she felt as proud about something as she does every time she makes you feel good. Isaac's occasional pat on her shoulder and mutter of 'good job' is laughable in comparison, as is the high of working herself till she's covered head to toe in sweat at the gym, as is everything else.

It might be the honeymoon phase the movies talk about. You slowly catch your breath and raise your head from her shoulder to look at her with the same adoration as you did when she kissed you for the first time, and Abby has a hard time believing that the feeling will ever go away. Movies get a lot of things wrong, anyway.

She's walking slower than usual on your way back home, her steps sluggish, and you're sweet enough to only make fun of her for it a little bit. One comment here and there, earning a scoff when you lean closer and offer to carry her bride style, a badly stifled laugh when you hum thoughtfully and wonder out loud about what Owen must be doing right now.

Her fingers are interlaced with yours and normally she would've let go by now, a little sheepish to show that much vulnerability in front of the people who are supposed to respect her, but the thought doesn't even cross her mind. You crack another stupid joke and she giggles like she did when she was a kid, silly and sweet, tugging your hand to her lips to kiss the back of it.

Manny looks you up and down as soon as you cross the gates, dark eyebrows raised. "The fuck happened to you?" He asks. You look at him with a confused frown and wait for him to clarify, "You're wet."

Abby's stiff as a board where she stands next to you, her quick blinking the only evidence that she hasn't actually been frozen in place by some kind of magic spell.

You're much more casual. "It's fucking hot. I poured some water on myself to cool off."

Manny hums. He's seen you do it before, maybe that's why he doesn't question it. He does note, though, the suspicious way in which Abby walks silently and swiftly past him with her eyes pointedly on the floor. Her hand is tight around yours still, and you follow because— well, of course you do.

#abby anderson x reader #abby anderson fic #abby x reader #abby tlou #abby anderson #tlou fic #abby anderson x female!reader #abby smut

[the-modern-typewriter]

Your work inspires me so much! Could I request a villain x hero where they’re both mutually in love but the villain, is very much a villain and murders people and the hero feels betrayed, and hates the fact they still love the villain (bonus for the villain doing it out of jealousy 🥺💕) don’t feel pressured to write this ofc! Thank you for taking the time to read and have a good day / evening and thank you for the content you produce ❤️

The hero scrubbed harder at their hands when they heard the bathroom door open behind them. Their shoulders tensed. Their jaw locked.

They didn't look up at the mirror.

"You're upset," the villain said, finally.

The hero snarled, wordlessly. Their skin was beginning to look flayed. Red from the hot water. Clean. Not clean enough.

"You know who I am," the villain pressed. "You know what I'm capable of. I've never hid it, never pretended to be something other than what I am."

"You killed them."

"I've killed before."

"Oh, well. That makes it all so much better then, doesn't it?"

The villain stepped closer. They gently took hold of the hero's wrist with one hand and firmly closed the tap with the other.

The hero whirled, wrenching back and shoving.

Part of them expected the villain to instantly lunge; slam them right back against a wall, leaving the two of them struggling. It was worse that the villain immediately put their hands up in placating, 'okay, I won't touch you', surrender.

It was too damn reasonable.

The villain's expression, through the blurry fury of the hero's tears, was too damn concerned.

The hero swiped at their cheeks, teeth practically bared. "Fuck you."

"Oh, I wish that was the mood, right now."

"You killed them because you were jealous."

The villain's head tilted.

"Don't deny it," the hero snapped.

"I wasn't denying thing. Outside of a court of law, I rarely do."

"This isn't a joke!"

"I wasn't joking, love."

"Don't call me that!"

The villain folded their arms across the chest, and for a moment the hero thought they might walk out and come back later 'after the hero had calmed down'. They leaned back against the bathroom door instead, shutting it.

The hero gulped. They took a step closer, fists raised - wanting to - needing to - they ended up hurling their shaking hands back to their sides.

"You know," their voice cracked. "I defend you to people. Did you know that? I tell them that you're not so bad. Ruthless, yeah, but you're not a monster. You have a code. You love me."

"I do love you, which is why I would never ask you to defend me."

"Like that's the point here!"

"Then what is the point?" the villain asked. Calm. Implacable.

"You're better than this. You're supposed to be better. You don't just - just kill people. Not because of me."

"Ah." The villain's gaze flicked down the hero's arms. "You feel you have blood on your hands."

"No. That's not it."

"Isn't it?"

"It's about you being morally reprehensible."

"Yeah, but we knew I was morally reprehensible, didn't we? Just as we both know I pretend otherwise sometimes when I can make it easy for you."

The hero made a strangled sound. Even if they did know that. Especially because they knew that.

The villain shrugged. "If it makes you feel better, it's not your fault. Yes, I was jealous that you were spending a lot of time fighting them. But on the other hand, they were also a morally reprehensible person, so really if I'm going to kill anyone it should be the people like me. I thought you'd be pleased."

"Pleased?!"

"Well, that I'm channelling my violent tendencies in a societally friendly way. You wanted to stop them too. Does the end not justify the means?"

The hero stared at them, aghast. They genuinely weren't sure if the villain was joking or not. They did not look like they were joking.

"I hate you," the hero said. "So much."

"Yes."

"That's all you have to say? Yes?"

"I'm not an easy creature to love," the villain said, softly. "Of course you hate me sometimes. Otherwise loving me would be unbearable."

"It is unbearable."

Some of the calm slipped from the villain's face; a flinch of pain.

it didn't make the hero feel better. It just made their hands feel more bloodied, more like the villain's hands. Hurting things.

"You know," the villain said. "You're not easy either. I limit my nature a lot for you. I compromise for you all the time."

"It's not a compromise when my demand is asking you not to kill people!"

"I've never asked you to stop risking your life to save people."

"That's not the same thing!"

"Hurts the same amount.," the villain said quietly.

The hero didn't know what to say to that. The two of them stared at each other from across the bathroom, the hero still shaking violently. "I don't want to do this right now," they managed to say, and it was only a little wobbly. "I can't deal with you right now."

"I wanted to check you're alright."

"Yeah? I'm not."

The villain bit their lip. "I really didn't think you'd react this badly. I wouldn't have done it if I thought it would upset you this much."

The hero closed their eyes, because it was true and it was terrible. Another treacherous tear spilled over their cheek. They dashed it away.

"What do you need?" the villain asked. "You should have water or you'll get a headache."

"I want you to leave."

"Are you going to put your hands under the tap again if I leave?"

The hero glared at them.

The villain's defences were back up again, so they merely raised an eyebrow. "I'll be outside, then."

"I thought you were better," the hero said. "You were supposed to be better."

The villain paused, one hand on the door, considering that perhaps.

"No," they said, after a moment, like the hero was the one who had committed some great and grave betrayal. "You just started pretending."

They shut the door behind them.

#hero x villain #heroes and villains #villains #heroes #writing #enemies and lovers #story #short story #ficlet #creative writing #writeblr

[tosomeonessomeone]

Intertwined.

words・3.2k /pairings・Bang Chan x reader / genres・fluff, humor, little angst/ warnings・ none

You’ve been working with Stray Kids for a long time as an artist and visual creator for the group, you and Bang Chan are really close due to being both 97’s liners.

The dance studio pulsated with tension as Chan grappled with intricate moves, each step echoing his mounting frustration. Minho's concerned gaze caught Chan's eye, "Hey, Chan, something's off. You seem distracted."

Chan let out a heavy sigh, "Yeah, it's been one of those days. Everything feels like it's falling apart."

As they retreated to the break area, the atmosphere grew more strained with the members bickering over trivial matters. Felix raised his voice, "Can we just focus, guys? This isn't helping anyone."

Chan, feeling the weight of the day pressing down on him, rubbed his temples. "I need a break," he muttered, escaping the heated exchange.

Silently, Chan sought refuge in your studio, a sanctuary amidst the chaos. As he entered, you looked up from your work, sensing the distress in his eyes. "Rough day?" you asked.

Chan slumped onto a chair, "You have no idea. Dance practice was a disaster, and the members are at each other's throats. I just needed some peace."

You nodded sympathetically, "Take your time. I'm here if you need to talk."

The frustration lingered as Chan paced around the studio. "This song is just not coming together! We're running out of time, and it's driving me crazy," he vented, frustration evident in every word.

Approaching cautiously, you offered, "Chan, take a deep breath. We'll figure it out, like we always do."

He shot you a sharp look, "It's not that simple! Do you even understand the pressure we're under?"

"I do, Chan. But snapping won't help. Let's talk it through," you urged, attempting to diffuse the tension.

He scoffed, "Talking won't magically make the song perfect! We need results, not empty words."

Remaining calm, you said, "I'm not trying to provide empty words. I'm here to support you, but yelling won't change anything."

Frustration boiling over, Chan exclaimed, "Support? I need more than support! I need solutions, and it feels like you're not getting it!"

Taking a deep breath, you carefully responded, "I'm on your side, Chan. We're a team, and we'll find a way together. But lashing out won't solve anything. Let's step back and rethink our approach."

He sighed, a mix of anger and exhaustion in his eyes, "I know, I just… I'm sorry. This is so much pressure, and I didn't mean to snap."

You nodded, "It's okay. We all have our moments. Let's take a break, clear our heads, and come back to it with a fresh perspective. We've got this, Chan."

As the tension gradually subsided, you both understood the challenges you faced but also the strength of your partnership to overcome them.

You extended your hand towards Chan, offering a silent gesture of reconciliation. He hesitated for a moment, then slowly lifted his hand to hold yours. The touch, though tentative, spoke volumes about the unspoken bond between you.

You guided him towards the couch, and as you both sat down, a heavy silence hung in the air. "Chan, I know it's tough," you began softly, "but we can navigate through this. We always do."

He sighed, his shoulders slumping, "I just get overwhelmed sometimes, you know? It feels like the weight of everything is on my shoulders."

You nodded, squeezing his hand gently, "You don't have to carry it all alone. We're a team, remember?"

A small smile tugged at the corners of his lips, "Yeah, a team. I forget that sometimes."

"It happens," you reassured, "but we're in this together." The room was filled with a comforting silence as you both absorbed the shared understanding.

Chan finally broke the quietude, "Thank you for being patient with me. I don't say it enough, but I appreciate you."

"I know," you replied with a soft smile, "and I appreciate you too, Chan. Let's tackle this challenge together, one step at a time."

As the weight of the argument lifted, you both leaned back on the couch, finding solace in the shared space. The connection between you spoke of a partnership resilient enough to weather storms, and the quiet moments that followed were a testament to the strength you found in each other.

Feeling the need for a break, you suggested, "How about we take the rest of the night off, Chan? We could use a breather."

He nodded in agreement, "Yeah, a break sounds good. My head's been spinning with the music."

You both settled on the couch, legs stretched out on a large puff in front of you. "What do you feel like eating?" you asked.

Chan thought for a moment, "Let's go with something comforting. How about ramen and dumplings?"

"Perfect choice," you grinned, reaching for your phone to place an order.

While waiting for the food, Chan scrolled through the movie options. "How about this one?" he suggested, showing you the screen.

You nodded in approval, "Sounds good to me. Anything to take our minds off things for a while."

As the food arrived, you both dug into the delicious spread of ramen and dumplings. The tension from earlier slowly dissipated, replaced by the warmth of shared comfort food. The movie played, casting a soft glow in the room.

Chan stole a glance at you, "Thanks for this. I needed a break more than I realized."

"You're welcome," you replied, "Sometimes stepping back is the best way to find a new perspective."

*your pov*

As the movie played on the screen, my thoughts swirled like a whirlwind. The atmosphere was relaxed, the air tinged with the comforting scent of the food we just enjoyed. Yet, there was a subtle undercurrent of unspoken emotions.

Feeling the weight of the day's events, I contemplated our journey together. Chan's dedication and passion were evident in every note he crafted, yet the toll of creative struggles was undeniable. The realization dawned that sometimes, in the silence between shared glances, words weren't necessary.

In a moment of unspoken connection, I decided to lean my head on Chan's shoulder. It was a subtle move, a gesture seeking solace and understanding. The soft fabric of his shirt provided a tangible reassurance, a quiet acknowledgment of the bond we shared.

As my head rested against him, I could almost feel the tension dissipate. The movie continued to play, but my attention was drawn to the rhythm of his heartbeat. There was an unexpected intimacy in this simple act, as if the proximity ignited a flutter within both of us.

I stole a glance at Chan, and our eyes met briefly. In that moment, it felt like our hearts were engaged in a silent conversation, exchanging sentiments that words struggled to convey. I sensed a subtle shift, a recognition of vulnerability and strength entwined.

For Chan, my head on his shoulder seemed to unleash a cascade of emotions. The rise and fall of his chest quickened, a heartbeat echoing the unspoken understanding that enveloped us. It was a moment frozen in time, where the complexities of the day faded into the background, leaving room for an uncharted connection that pulsed between us.

*Chan pov*

As her head gently found its place on my shoulder, a mix of emotions stirred within me. The weight of the day's frustrations lingered, but her silent gesture offered an unexpected balm. I could feel the subtle warmth radiating from her, a connection transcending words.

My mind raced, contemplating the intricacies of our partnership. Her support was unwavering, a pillar that held me steady amidst the creative storms. In that moment, as the soft fabric of my shirt cradled her head, I couldn't help but acknowledge the depth of our bond.

Her presence felt like a lifeline, a silent reassurance that we were navigating the challenges together. The movie played on, but my focus shifted to the rhythm of our shared heartbeat. The vulnerability of the day seemed to dissolve in the quiet intimacy of this simple act.

As I stole a glance at her, our eyes met briefly, and a surge of warmth pulsed through me. It wasn't just the weight of the day that quickened my heartbeat; it was the realization that our connection ran deeper than the melodies we created. It was a shared journey, marked by unspoken understanding.

Her head on my shoulder seemed to unlock a reservoir of emotions. The uncharted territory of vulnerability and strength interwoven echoed in the accelerated beats of my heart. In this unassuming moment, I found solace and a silent promise that, no matter the challenges, we faced them united, and that, perhaps, there was more to our connection than even I had realized.

*end of povs*

As the movie wove its story on the screen, a quiet tranquility settled between you. The weight of the day gave way to a shared moment of solace, and the air held a delicate sense of connection.

In a subtle shift, Chan's fingers brushed against yours, and without a word, he reached out to intertwine your hands together. It was a gesture both gentle and firm, a silent agreement that spoke volumes. The warmth of his touch sent a reassuring current through you, a reminder that, despite the challenges, you were navigating this journey hand in hand.

The intertwining of your fingers became a dance of unspoken understanding—a language that surpassed the need for words, a silent promise echoing the depth of your connection. In that shared grasp, the complexities of the day seemed to fade, leaving behind a sense of unity resonating between your intertwined hands.

As your fingers found their natural fit, you stole a glance at Chan. His expression mirrored a subtle mix of reassurance and vulnerability—a moment frozen in time, a bridge between the challenges you faced and the uncharted territories that lay ahead.

The movie continued to play, but the real narrative unfolded in the intertwining of your fingers—a quiet acknowledgment that, no matter the twists and turns, your hands would navigate the journey together.

As your intertwined fingers created a connection, a comfortable silence enveloped you. The movie played in the background, providing a soothing soundtrack to your unspoken conversation.

The soft glow of the studio lights created an intimate atmosphere as you gazed into Chan’s deep brown eyes, a gentle smile on your face. "You know, one of the things I love most is seeing you feel loved by your members. Despite the hardships, the way you guys support each other is truly heartwarming."

Chan's eyes reflected gratitude, "Yeah, they mean everything to me. Their support has been my anchor."

You nodded, "And now, it's made me realize something important."

Curiosity flickered in Chan's gaze, "What is it?"

"I want you to feel loved and cherished by me too," you confessed, "just like you do with your members. You deserve that, Chan, and I want to be the one to give it to you."

A warmth spread across Chan's face, a mix of surprise and appreciation. "You'd do that for me?"

"Absolutely," you assured, "you've shown me your vulnerabilities, and I want you to know that I'm here for you, just as you've been for your members. You deserve all the love and support, and I'm ready to be a part of that for you."

As the weight of your words settled in the air, Chan's expression shifted from surprise to a profound sense of gratitude. It was a moment of mutual understanding, a bridge between the support he received from his members and the love he was now willing to accept from you.

You couldn't help but glance at Chan, a soft smile playing on your lips. "You know," you began, "seeing you well, in your element, it just… makes my heart flutter."

He turned to you, a hint of surprise in his eyes, "Really? I thought I was a bit of a mess today."

You chuckled, "Everyone has those days. But the way you handle it, your dedication, it's inspiring. And being here for you, supporting you, it just feels right."

Chan's gaze held a warmth that mirrored your sentiments, "You have this way of making everything feel a bit lighter. I appreciate that more than you know."

You grinned, "Well, if you ever need someone to share the weight, I'm here. Always."

His expression softened, "That means a lot. It's reassuring to know you're by my side through all of this."

You nodded, "Absolutely. We're a team, right?"

He squeezed your hand gently, "Right. A team." The acknowledgment lingered in the air, and in that moment, the unspoken promise of always being there for each other became a quiet foundation beneath the surface of your connection.

As the movie's glow painted the room, Chan took a deep breath, his eyes reflecting a mix of vulnerability and determination. "I need to be honest with you," he began, his words measured yet sincere.

You turned your attention fully to him, a sense of curiosity and anticipation in the air. "What's on your mind, Chan?"

He ran his free hand through his hair, a subtle nervous gesture. "Over the past few months of working together, I've come to realize that just being part of a team with you might not be enough for me."

A quiet intensity settled between you, and you searched his eyes for understanding. "What do you mean?"

Chan met your gaze, "I've been feeling… more. More than just collaboration. It's like, every shared moment, every challenge we overcome, it's been building up. And I can't ignore it anymore."

Your heart skipped a beat as the weight of his words sank in. "Chan, what are you trying to say?"

He took a moment before confessing, "I think I've developed feelings for you, more than just professional admiration. I care about you deeply, and I can't help but imagine a future where it's not just about the music, but about us, together."

A blend of surprise and warmth enveloped you. "Chan, I never saw this coming."

He nodded, "I know it's unexpected, but I needed to be honest with you. I've been grappling with these feelings, and it felt like the right time to share them."

The room hung in a delicate silence, the weight of Chan's revelation echoing in the air. It was a turning point, an acknowledgment that the dynamics between you had shifted beyond the realm of collaboration, and the uncharted territory you now faced held the potential for something deeper.

Chan chuckled, breaking the emotional tension, "You know what made me realize it even more? It's those moments when you're just… you. Like when you decide it's a good idea to get me all dirty with paint, or when you declare a spa day because you can't deal with your artwork anymore."

You couldn't help but laugh at the memories. "Guilty as charged. I might be a bit unconventional with stress relief."

He grinned, "And that's what I love. Those silly moments, the laughter – it's when I feel closest to you. Like that time we had face masks and painted each other's nails."

You chuckled, "I didn't think you'd enjoy that."

Chan shrugged, "Honestly, it was one of the best days. It made me realize how much I appreciate not just the artist in you, but the person. The one who's not afraid to be a bit goofy, to let loose."

The sincerity in his voice melted away any lingering uncertainty. "Chan, I appreciate your honesty. These feelings, they're not one-sided," you admitted, "Those moments we share, they mean a lot to me too."

As the weight of his confession and your shared laughter lingered in the air, it became clear that your connection had transcended the professional realm. The acknowledgment of deeper feelings was met with a warmth that extended beyond the art studio, painting a canvas of possibilities for the journey ahead.

Chan's laughter filled the room, a contagious sound that lightened the atmosphere. "And you know what really got to me?" he continued, "When you started recreating all those memes from the group. Like that time you screamed 'Ice cream!' just like Minho."

You grinned, "Well, Minho's enthusiasm is contagious. I couldn't resist."

Chan chuckled, "You nailed it. I couldn't stop laughing. And then there was the moment you sang 'Listen to my heart beat' just like Chanbin. I think that's when I realized, I love seeing you be a part of our craziness."

You blushed, "I never expected my attempts at humor to have such an impact."

"It's not just the humor," Chan explained, "It's the fact that you're willing to dive into our world, to be a part of it. It's endearing, and I can't help but be drawn to it."

As your laughter echoed through the room, it became another layer of your connection—one that transcended the challenges of music and embraced the joyous, silly moments that brought you closer. The acknowledgment of these shared experiences added a touch of lightheartedness to the depth of emotions already present in the room.

As the glow of the TV casting a soft ambiance. Your eyes met Chan's gaze, there was an unspoken understanding, a connection that transcended words. A subtle shift occurred as your fingers brushed against each other's arms. The touch was gentle, tentative, yet filled with a mutual yearning for the uncharted.

Chan leaned in slowly, his eyes shifting from yours to your lips. The anticipation hung in the air, a sweet tension building. You found yourself doing the same, drawn to the magnetic pull of this unexplored territory.

In that moment of suspended time, your lips met in a sweet, lingering kiss. It was a delicate fusion of emotions—affection, longing, and the acknowledgment of something new and beautiful. Chan's hand cradled your cheek, his thumb brushing against it softly, deepening the connection between you.

The kiss unfolded in a slow dance, a merging of two souls discovering a shared melody. The studio, once filled with the echoes of music, now held the harmonious rhythm of your intertwined emotions.

Time seemed to melt away, forgotten in the tender exchange between you and Chan. The once-muted movie now a distant hum, overshadowed by the quiet symphony of shared emotions. As you shifted, Chan's hands found your hips beneath the oversized t-shirt, a subtle reassurance that echoed the newfound connection.

With a gentle motion, Chan helped you transition, and you found yourself straddling his lap. The warmth of his touch lingered through the fabric, creating a cocoon of intimacy. The shared gaze spoke volumes, revealing a depth of understanding that transcended spoken words.

Your arm circled around his neck, fingers gently tangling in his soft, curly hair. The texture was a testament to the authenticity of the moment, the tangible connection grounding you both in the reality of this shared space.

As your bodies intertwined, the studio became a canvas for a different kind of art—one painted with shared glances, lingering touches, and the quiet melody of your breaths. The oversized t-shirt draped loosely, a symbol of the vulnerability and ease that enveloped you.

Chan's hands on your hips and the soft strands of his hair entwined with your fingers created an unspoken language—a dance of intimacy that deepened with each passing moment. The movie, now a mere backdrop, faded into the periphery as your shared connection took center stage.

hey guys, this is my first time posting my writing here! hope you enjoy it.

#bang chan fluff #bang chan x reader #stray kids x reader #stray kids fluff #skz x reader #skz fluff #stray kids imagines #skz imagines #bang chan imagines #chan x reader #chan fluff #chan imagines #bang chan x you #bang chan scenarios #stray kids scenarios #skz scenarios #stray kids soft hours #*writing #*drabble #*d: chan #k-labels #alettertotheone #Spotify

[luna0713hunter]

"you'll have to teach me " with zoro please and with

neck kisses / kitchen counter kisses

Kisses to keep your lover quiet but zoro kisses the reader

Lazy make-up

Thank btw I love your work

Author's note : its currently 3:30 am that im writing this request and gosh so many cute kisses with Zoro! And thank you for your nice compliments!!i hope you enjoy it 💕

"you'll have to teach me"

"neck kisses"

"kitchen counter kisses"

"kisses to keep your lover quiet"

"lazy makeout"

Based on this prompt

Zoro Roronoa x reader

Warnings : none,lots of fluff and kisses,cute couple

*.✧∘˚˳°*.✧∘˚˳°*.✧∘˚˳°*.✧∘˚˳°*.✧∘˚˳°*.✧∘˚˳°*.✧∘˚˳°*.✧∘

Getting some privacy in a ship is nearly impossible.

You cant really blame anyone;its a public space that all the crewmates share,and no one has the actual time to relax and spend time in their lover's company.

But there are also mornings like this: where everything's soft in the glow of the rising sun;the ocean calm and the sky so blue with few clouds, it has you closing your eyes and wishing for that moment to last forever.

As you lean back on the kitchen counter after you've made yourself a cup of tea,you enjoy the rare moments of loneliness. You close your eyes and take a sip of the sweet honey flavor liquid and let the rays of the sunlight warm your face.

When you hear the sound of someone stepping inside the kitchen,you open your eyes;ready to greet Sanji, assuming he's going to make breakfast since he's always the first one to wake up. But what greets you is the sight of a very drowsy Zoro making his way toward you. You pour him a cup of tea as well and offer it to him;and eye him as he accepts it with a grunt. You grin and bump your shoulder to his,making him grunt again.

"not awake yet,sleepy head?"

"not my fault. Usopp snores. And Luffy talks about food in his sleep."

You snort around your own cup of tea, "what about Sanji?"

Zoro takes a moment to consider your question,a when he speaks next,he seems genuinely surprised by his answer.

"he... actually isnt so bothersome when he sleeps. Which is weird, considering how annoying he is when he's awake."

You throw your head back and laugh;the sound so refreshing in the silence of the morning. Zoro takes a sip of his tea,and leans on his forearms next to where you're currently sitting on the counter.

"why are you up so early?"

You shrug and tilt your head toward the window.

"the weather was too nice to sleep in."

"is that so?"

You close your eyes when the skies clears again and the rays of the sunshine warm your face.

"yeah."

You two bask in each others' presence;no need for any words,just enjoying the silence. The tea finishes soon,and with warm belly,you eyelids start to droop again.

"sleepy?"

When you open your eyes,you see Zoro's face inches away from yours;having you caged between his arms. You lean forward and rest your forehead against his, smiling when he lowers his head and presses his lips to your neck. You shiver,and wrap your arms around Zoro's neck.

"you know,i always dreamed of kissing my boyfriend on a kitchen counter."

An amused chuckle escapes his lips,and he tilts his head to one side while eyeing your lips; pretending to be confused.

"oh?then I'm afraid you'll have to teach me how to do it."

You giggle and pull him closer

"that,can be arranged."

When your lips meet,the morning feels even better. Zoro's lips are soft and move slowly against your own. Its everything you've ever wanted,and even more.

Because of mornings like this,you try to wake up earlier than usual every now and then;so you can have a small alone time with the man you love before everyone else wake up.

When a small sound escapes your lips as he bites your lower lip lightly,Zoro pulls back slightly and rests his forehead against yours.

"you have to keep it down,babe. Don't want other to wake up now,do we?"

And one shake of your head is enough answer for him to dive back in,and capture your lips again.

And you pray to every god you know,that mornings like this last forever.

#opla zoro roronoa x reader #opla zoro x reader #zoro roronoa x reader #zoro x reader #one piece live action x reader #one piece x reader

[hunny-bean]

Hello, I have a Matt x reader x Frank castle smut request. Frank tells Matt what he does with you after his patrol, how tight you are and how good your pussy tastes. Frank takes Matt to his apartment and the two have a lot of fun with the reader. They use the reader like a sex doll. Despite the years with Frank, the reader is too tight and Matt is too big.

In High Demand

Pairing: Frank Castle x Matt Murdock x F!Reader

Summary: Matt's been overworking himself. Frank knows someone who can help him relax.

Word Count: 8.2k

Warnings: 18+ (Minors DNI), Explicit Sexual Content, Threesome, Oral Sex (M and F Receiving), Unprotected P in V, Praise and Degradation, An Obscene Amount of Dialogue, The Reader is Very Slutty (I'm Sorry. . . No I'm Not).

A/N: Well, I'm officially out of the frying pan and into the fire. Of course, by fire, I mean threesome. I'm sorry this took so long for me to finish. I'm a bit of a slow editor. If you have any constructive criticism, I will absorb ALL of it happily. I'm trying to improve my writing skills as much as I can. Also, I'm always taking requests! XOXO.

Read on AO3

｡ﾟ•┈୨♡୧┈• ｡ﾟ

"I really appreciate you helping me out with this, Frank."

Frank looked up from where he was sitting with his back against the brick barrier. "Yeah, well, I owed you one," he replied, "and I'm not a huge fan of being in debt."

The two vigilantes were resting on a vacant rooftop, listening closely for any signs of danger. Hearing nothing, Matt figured the "Devil of Hell's Kitchen" had driven everyone with something to fear from him back inside. He declared his nightly patrol a success. As soon as he switched off attack mode, he felt the exhaustion hit him, and he slumped down on the wall next to Frank.

"So, you're saying you did all this to balance the scales?" Matt asked incredulously.

"Just about," Frank muttered, scratching a little blood stain off the knife Matt let him borrow. "And I only beat up one guy, so it's not like I actually had to work for it."

"I'd say you worked hard enough. I mean, you did make it all night without killing anyone."

"There you go again with that self-righteous bullshit," Frank groaned. "What I don't get is why you would ask someone you constantly feel the need to babysit for help."

Taking a deep breath in, Matt forced himself to stand, getting ready for the walk back to his apartment.

"You were convenient," he explained. "I knew your skills and I knew where to find you. Also, you're not nearly as lethal without all your guns."

"Well, fuck you too," Frank grumbled. He waited for Matt to take a few steps towards the ladder before chucking the knife he was holding directly at the back of his head. He watched it spiral through the air, perfectly on course, only to land gingerly in Matt's hand. It was almost like the knife changed its trajectory at the last second, but Frank knew that wasn't the case. Besides, it's not like he actually wanted to hit him. He didn't even think that was possible.

Matt turned back in his direction. Even through the mask, Frank could feel the raised eyebrow. He ignored it. Hopping up, he made his way over so the two of them could walk together.

"Okay, but why ask for help at all?" Frank pressured. "It's obvious you can handle yourself, and you've never asked before."

"You know as well as anyone how unpredictable these streets can be," Matt began. "You're right, most nights I can handle myself, but. . . I wasn't so sure about tonight. I wanted someone there, just in case."

He was about to start climbing down the ladder, but Frank's voice stopped him before he could.

"Something tells me you're not gonna be so sure about tomorrow, either."

"What?"

"Come on, Red. Look at yourself. You're practically dead on your feet," Frank pointed out. "It's three in the goddamn morning, you just fought like fourteen people, and now, what? You're going home to get your two hours of sleep before work?"

"Four."

"That's still not enough, and you know it."

"I'll be fine," Matt asserted.

"No one can do that every night and be fine."

"Why do you care?"

"Because unlike some people, I actually respect what you do around here, and I don't wanna find out what this shithole would look like without you," Frank raved. There was a long silence after that, both men startled by the declaration.

"You won't."

Matt began his descent, ready to end their conversation. Frank, it seemed, had other plans.

"If you were fine, you wouldn't be taking the ladder," he called down after him.

Matt paused, resting his head against the metal rung in front of him. He was really starting to get aggravated by Frank's incessant concerns. The most annoying part was that he was right. Matt would usually make it home from patrol in two minutes flat, his feet touching nothing but rooftops. He picked a shorter building with a ladder tonight because he feared his body was too sore to make the jumps. To say it had been a rough week would be an understatement.

'You have nothing to prove,' he repeated in his head like a mantra. It worked at first; he made it another three steps down, but then he heard Frank's stupid voice again.

"Why won't you just admit that you're burnt out?"

Matt gritted his teeth, unable to hide his frustration any longer. He gave up on avoiding conflict and began climbing back up to the roof to be on the same level as Frank.

"I am not burnt out," he growled.

There was an awkward pause as Frank looked Matt up and down, thinking. He carefully considered his slumped posture and his shoulders racked with tension. Matt couldn't see him, but he could feel Frank's eyes examining him, and it made him uncomfortable. He was about to say something, but Frank broke the silence before he could.

"When's the last time you got laid?" he asked, sounding genuinely curious.

"I'm sorry-"

"You're not a virgin, are you?"

"What? No!"

"So how long's it been?"

Matt wasn't sure how to feel about the sudden shift in the argument. he kinda felt like he was in a train headed towards a cliff that suddenly veered off course. He was safe from the fall, but who knew what lay ahead of him now?

"Why the hell would you want to know that?" he asked.

"Just answer the question."

"Uhh, a few months? I don't kn-"

He was interrupted again by Frank letting out a low, impressed whistle.

"That's even worse than I thought," Frank said.

"You've thought about this?" Matt asked, horrified.

"No, jesus christ, man, it's obvious. You're all tense 'n shit. You look like you haven't relaxed in a while, that's all."

Matt sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose through his mask. "I think we should go," he mumbled.

"I think you should get some."

"Ok, well it's not like you've got someone waiting for you at home either," Matt snapped.

Frank looked at Matt quizzically, letting out a surprised chuckle.

"What?" Matt asked, exasperated.

"Nothing," Frank responded. "It's just that you really are off your game."

"What are you talking about?"

"There is someone waiting for me at home right now."

"Bullshit."

"I thought you could, like, smell it on me or something," Frank speculated.

Now that he mentioned it, Matt did notice something different about Frank's unique smell. There was a slightly sweeter scent intertwined with his typical smoke and rosewood. He knew Frank wasn't lying, but for some reason he didn't want to believe it.

"I didn't hear anyone else inside when I came to get you," he added.

"She was out with some friends. She should be home by now."

"You realize how made up that sounds, right?"

"Cut the crap. You know it's true."

"Yeah, I know," Matt conceded. "She your girlfriend?"

"Yeah. . . At least, I think she is."

"Do you go out on dates often?" Matt supplied. He made a 'come on' gesture to encourage Frank to follow as he started down the ladder once more.

"I don't exactly know what counts as a date in your world, but I think we do." Frank inhaled sharply as he almost lost his footing on a loose bar.

"Wait, does she know who you are? The terms of your agreement-"

"I remember all the terms, thanks," Frank muttered. "I didn't tell her. She figured it out pretty quick though. Maybe I should grow a beard or somethin'."

"Do you love her?" Matt asked when they reached the bottom. The two of them started off in the same direction for their homes, taking only the deserted back alleys they were all too familiar with.

"Well I've only known her for three months," Frank answered, dusting little flakes of rust off his black jacket, "but I think I'm really starting to. She might just be the prettiest, sweetest girl I've ever known."

"That's a good sign. Okay, one last thing: Does she sleep with other people?"

Frank suddenly looked like he was remembering something funny. "Only if I ask her to," he smirked.

Matt was pretty sure his brain short-circuited, and he stopped dead in his tracks. "The correct answer would have been no," he deadpanned. "Why the hell would you ask someone to do that?"

"Well, Red, there's this thing you should know about my girl. I know she seems all cute and innocent at first, but she's actually the biggest slut I've ever met."

"Okay, TMI," Matt complained. Naturally, Frank ignored him. They began walking again, talking more about Frank's secret girlfriend.

"I'm telling you, man, she's perfect," he bragged. The night we met, I found her blowing some guy behind a bar."

Matt had to admit, that was a little amusing. "And what?" he asked, "you just went up to them and started hitting on her?"

"Not exactly," Frank laughed. "I was just walking home, and the guy she was with thought I said somethin' to him or some shit, 'cause he came over to me and started tryin' to pick a fight, right? Well, anyway, I knocked him out cold. Save the lecture, he was a dick wad and he wasn't even that drunk. But this girl, she thought it was hot, can you believe that? So, she starts hitting on me, saying I look strong and dangerous, 'cause apparently she's into that. She kept asking me to take her back to my place, and she was obviously hammered, so I did, just to keep her safe, you know? Almost immediately, she passes out on my bed, too tired to even try to fuck me anymore. Luckily, when she woke up, she remembered everything that happened, and I gave her my number in case she ever needed me to punch somebody else for her."

"And did she?" Matt prompted. He didn't actually care that much, but it was a decent story and it was definitely helping him keep his mind off his injuries.

"Yeah, two days later," Frank grinned. "She wasn't calling for a bodyguard, though. When I picked up, she told me she hadn't been able to stop thinking about me and was wondering if we could talk for a while so she could 'satisfy her curiosity'."

"She sounds very forward."

"You've got no idea. She's absolutely shameless, especially when she's drunk. You know, when she called me, she spent the whole conversation trying to pretend like she wasn't getting herself off."

"Wait, what?!"

"So, I had to sit there for an hour and listen to her try not to moan, and she's usually pretty good at staying quiet, but sometimes she gets so fuckin' wet that she just can't."

"That's disturbing," Matt lied, and was once again ignored.

"It's real easy for her to cover up the noises coming from her mouth, right? But the other ones. . . not so much. So, the whole time, I was just on my couch talking to her, and I was going absolutely insane 'cause I could hear what she was doing. After a little while, I just snapped and I told her if she wanted to hear my voice that badly, she could come over and I'd help her out."

"And?. . ."

"And she did."

"You slept with her the second time you met?"

"Yep. And the third, and the forth. . . probably the first eight times we got together. I mean, we were just goin' at it like every single night. It was amazing. She's so fuckin' tight, like tighter than most virgins. And she's damn good with her mouth. Like, the first time she sucked me off I almost saw your God. I don't think there's a single thing she can't do. Not much she won't do either."

"Really, dude. Stop."

"Whatever, man. I realized I actually liked her when she spent a full weekend at my place. We went out for lunch and played cards and watched a movie. She was just so smart and funny and I couldn't stand the thought of her leaving," Frank reminisced.

"So, is that when you asked her out?"

"No, that was when I asked her to move in with me."

Matt didn't even know where to start unpacking that. Before he could say anything, Frank stopped walking in front of a tall staircase behind a brick building.

"This is me," he announced.

"Hold on, you still haven't answered my question," Matt reminded him. "Why did you ask her to sleep with someone else?"

"Oh, yeah," Frank mused. "About a month ago, I went out for drinks with this old friend of mine, and was going on and on about how he hadn't gotten laid since his divorce. He seemed about her type, so I took him back to our place and had her take care of him for me."

"And she did it, just like that?"

"I told you she was great, didn't I?" Frank beamed.

"And neither of you cared?" That was something Matt was having trouble comprehending. He'd always been pretty possessive in his relationships, and the thought of sharing his partner was completely foreign to him.

"I am not a selfish man, Red. Anyone who dies without experiencing that pussy has never truly lived."

"Good to know."

Frank leaned casually against the wall behind him, crossing his arms over his chest.

"So, uh. . . you interested?"

It look Matt a moment to process what he was being asked, and when he did, he didn't know how to feel. On the one hand, he didn't want to take any more help from Frank, especially not for something like this. He didn't want to come between a happy couple, either, even by invite. On the other hand, it had been a while, and the girl that had been described to him sounded remarkably satisfying. He began to realize that Frank was right: He seriously needed to get laid.

Frank decided Matt had been thinking a little too long.

"Do you like eating pussy?"

Matt was startled out of his inner turmoil. "You can't just fucking ask someone that," he hissed.

"Why not? You seem like you would," Frank stated nonchalantly.

"Fine. Yes, I do."

"Good. I'm tellin' you right now, there ain't a woman in all of New York that tastes sweeter than my baby. You get between her legs, you come out knowing things you didn't think were possible, swear to God."

"I find that hard to believe," Matt scoffed.

"I mean it. I could spend hours down there. I did once, actually, 'till we both passed out. . . But I guess you'll just have to find out for yourself, won't you? Come on, man. You really need this."

"I don't know, it just doesn't sound like such a good idea."

Frank rolled his eyes. "We're all adults, we can have a little fun. If you want, you can come up to get your dick sucked and then head home. It doesn't have to be a big thing."

"You seem very adamant about this," Matt noted.

"Well, I do aim to please," Frank quipped. "I'm talking about you and her. I think my girl would have a lot of fun with you."

"What makes you say that?"

"You're pretty easy on the eyes, you know. Also, she seems to have a thing for jaded middle-aged vigilantes. So, what do you say? This is a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity, Murdock."

Matt sighed, and reached up to rub the back of his neck. For the life of him, he couldn't seem to remember any of his reasons for saying no.

"Alright," he decided.

Frank's face broke into a wolfish grin, and he began ascending the staircase towards the window at the very top of the building. Matt followed close behind him, wincing at the pain in his sides as he climbed. When the two men got to the top, Frank knocked four times at the glass.

｡ﾟ•┈୨♡୧┈• ｡ﾟ

You had just finished changing into one of Frank's old t-shirts when you heard the familiar rattling of the window pane. You dried your hands on the bathroom towel and smiled as you went to let your boyfriend back inside.

Using that word was strange to you, but still it made you giddy with excitement. You never thought you would meet someone wonderful enough to settle down with, but finally you had. Frank was the most perfect man you'd ever known. He understood you in ways no one else could, and with him, you were satisfied. That was a miracle in and of itself.

You slid open the creaky window with a hard push, and watched as Frank hopped through it with a gracefulness that contrasted sharply with his bulky exterior. He seemed completely unharmed, as per usual, but you had still been worried about him. There was always that small chance he would come home covered in his own blood and full of broken bones. You were about to tear into him for not leaving a note when you noticed the red figure slipping in behind him.

"Hey, sweetheart, you remember me telling you about Matt, don't you?" Frank asked, cradling your face in his hands and giving you a sweet hello kiss.

"Is this him?" you responded, giving the new arrival a once-over.

"Yeah, this is him. Hey, Red, why don't you introduce yourself."

Matt stepped up to you and offered his hand for you to shake.

"Hi, I'm Matt. Frank's already told me all about you," he said cheerfully, almost like he knew something you didn't.

Frank stepped up behind you, resting his hand on your lower back and leaning in to tell you something.

"If you're up for it, I'm gonna need you to do me a favor, alright?" he mumbled. You could tell Matt heard everything. You remembered what Frank had told you about him and his unique talents.

You turned towards Frank, sliding your hands under his jacket and leaning in close.

"By that, do you mean you're gonna need me to do him a favor?" you wondered. Frank tucked your hair behind your ear and twirled it idly around his fingers.

"He's pretty high strung right now. I figured he might need a little somethin' special to relax."

"I'm perfectly capable of getting laid on my own, Frank," Matt butted in. Frank ignored him.

"Have I told you how beautiful you look today?"

You laughed. "Yes, about twelve times this morning. You don't need to flatter me, I'll do it."

"You're amazing," Frank marveled, giving you another chaste kiss before turning to address Matt.

"How about you start by taking that stupid helmet off. Let my baby see what she's working with."

A small thrill ran through you when you heard Frank address you as his. You watched as Matt pulled his mask off, revealing the rest of his face. He looked a little nervous but you couldn't see why. He was absolutely gorgeous. His messy hair from the suit only added to the effects of his boyish charm. You noticed he did look rather tired, but that did nothing to dull his handsome features. You could tell you were gonna have a lot of fun with this one.

"He's even prettier than you," you joked.

Frank swatted you lightly on the ass and pushed you in Matt's direction. "Watch it," he growled playfully.

You stalked over to Matt and kissed him lightly on the cheek before pulling him over to the couch.

"Are you sure you're okay with this?" you asked gently.

Matt swallowed thickly, trying to adjust to his situation. "Yeah, I'm okay," he responded. You hoped he'd settle in soon. There was something about him that told you he could be a lot of fun when he warmed up. Then again, that was what you were there for.

"What do you want?"

"I'm not exactly sure. Really, I can just go if-"

"No!" you interrupted. "I don't want you to go, I want to make you feel better. I'm okay with whatever you want, promise."

Matt seemed to be struggling to come up with what to say. Honestly, you were feeling a little nervous too, even though there was no reason to be. Suddenly, you realized what the issue was.

"Hey, Frank?" you called out. He came over to the two of you holding a couple of beers in one hand. He passed one to Matt, who accepted it gratefully.

You waited until he was next to you before admitting your problem to him. "I think we feel a little weird because we don't have any rules. Could you maybe. . . tell us what to do?" you asked.

Frank nodded, sitting down in the ratty old armchair next to the couch.

"Why don't you ask me what you wanna do with him, and I'll give you the go-ahead. Sound good, baby?"

You looked over at Matt who seemed to have relaxed some. You definitely found the source of the problem. All you needed was permission.

"Can I kiss him?" you asked.

Frank's eyes were sparkling with his newfound control. "You can kiss him all you want, sugar."

You slid closer to Matt, turning his head towards yours. "Stop me if you get uncomfortable," you whispered, and then leaned in to press your lips to his. Matt groaned and immediately deepened the kiss, eagerly exploring your mouth with his tongue. It was obvious now how much he needed this.

He tasted good in a way you couldn't explain, and you didn't want to pull away until you'd figured out what it was. You could feel the throbbing in your core picking up with every passing moment. Your breath caught when you felt Matt reach up to run his fingers through your hair. Wanting to move things along, you climbed into his lap so you could be pressed against him, chest-to-chest.

"Pull her hair. She likes that," Frank suggested.

Matt complied, tugging gently, then harder when he felt you shiver against him. Leave it to Frank to know exactly what you want and when you want it. You pulled back from the kiss to look at your moderator, rolling your hips hesitantly to gauge his reaction. He nodded, and you watched him palm himself roughly through his pants. That was all the encouragement you needed.

Returning to the kiss, you began grinding down hard against him, hoping that he could feel your movements through his thick suit. Matt reacted in a way that showed you he certainly could, gasping and grabbing onto your hips to push up against you. You moaned when one particularly hard thrust allowed you to feel the outline of his cock through your clothes.

"Oh, what the fuck," you breathed, pulling away from the kiss in shock. There was no way in hell he was that big. You settled your weight fully on his lap, gently rocking back in forth to feel more of him. You had to make sure that you weren't just imagining things. You weren't. He was absolutely fucking huge. You weren't sure how he was supposed to fit inside you, but dammit if you weren't excited to find out.

Matt seemed amused by your reaction to your recent discovery. He could smell the sudden increase in your arousal that accompanied the feeling of you getting wetter. You felt his hands tighten on your hips, holding you still as he grinded up against you. Every thrust was deep and dirty, inciting the growing heartbeat between your legs. It felt like he was showing off, or using his knowledge of a secret you had to tease you.

"Feel something you like, baby?" Frank asked from the sidelines.

"Uh-huh," You responded inattentively. You were too focused on the feeling of Matt's bulge rubbing against you to say much more than that.

"Why don't you head on down to the bedroom, alright sweetheart? We'll meet you there in a minute," Frank urged.

Reluctantly, Matt released you and you wandered down the hall to wait for the two men to come join you.

Frank waited for you to be out of earshot before moving to the couch next to Matt. They sat for a second, sipping at their drinks before Frank spoke.

"I know you have a fuck ton of ideas about how you should treat a woman, but I'm gonna need you to forget that shit before I take you back there, okay? I'm doing this for you, but if you don't make this good for her, I will kick you out, got it? She's not interested in your kindness tonight. She wants you to treat her like an object. Like a dumb whore you're just using to get off. I know you've got a dark side in there somewhere, Red. I need you to tell me right now if you think you can use it."

Matt never expected that to be something that would intrigue him. It had always seemed so cruel and taboo. . . but if it was what you wanted. . .

"I can."

"Good." Frank stood up and began walking towards the bedroom. After a few steps, he remembered something and turned back around. "Also, what the hell, man? I'm not letting you fuck her without stretching her out first. I know I said you could hurt her, but I don't want you to make her bleed."

When they made it to the bedroom, they found you laying back against the pillows, gently teasing your clit through your panties. When they came through the doorway, you pulled your hand away, looking up at Frank shyly. He raised an eyebrow at you, scoffing at your innocent expression.

"You couldn't wait two minutes?" He sighed. "I'm not gonna embarrass you in front of our guest, baby, but next time you might not be so lucky."

"I'm sorry," you whined.

"No you're not." Frank came around the bed to sit next to you and directed Matt to sit down on your other side. "I think it's about time to take this off, what do you think?" Frank asked, tugging on the hem of your (his) shirt. You nodded, and he pulled it over your head, leaving you completely naked save for your soft cotton panties.

"What do you want right now, baby? His mouth or his fingers?" Frank offered, turning your head towards him. You were a little confused that those were your only options. Weren't you supposed to be making Matt feel good? Confusion aside, you still couldn't choose. They both sounded very appealing.

"Damn, Red. You must've done a good job back there. She's already having trouble thinking," he teased, flicking you gently on the forehead. "Why don't you use both?" he suggested.

Matt smiled, beginning to understand how Frank expected him to treat you. "If she's all fuzzy from a little kiss, are you sure she'd be able to handle both?"

"I guess we'll just have to find out, won't we?"

You weren't sure what it was, but when Frank talked about you like you weren't there, a combination of arousal and safety washed over you. It always seemed to put you in a different headspace.

Matt climbed on top of you, finding your lips again as he slid your underwear down past your knees for you to kick off. He pulled your legs apart and began tracing your folds gently with his fingertips. Every touch was a completely new sensation. Matt was experimenting, figuring out where you were most sensitive, which motions you preferred and how hard he had to rub your clit to make you whimper.

He circled his fingers around your entrance, dipping into you just enough to feel you pulse and tighten around him, trying to pull him deeper. Right before you started begging, he pushed two of his fingers all the way in, curling them to explore your soft walls. It didn't take long for you to gasp and melt into the pillows as he brushed against your sweet spot. You hid your face in his neck, whining as he assaulted it over and over while bringing his thumb up to massage your clit.

Frank shushed you gently from his spot on the bed, reaching over to stroke your hair as you shook from the intense stimulation. You felt yourself dripping down Matt's fingers, and you could hear the wet sounds you were making as he fucked them in and out of your tight heat.

He pulled you right up to the edge before you heard Frank tell him to stop.

"Not yet," he muttered. "She'll get worn out after the third one, so you should probably make 'em count."

You huffed as Matt pulled his fingers out, earning you a proud and dangerous smirk. He gave you another sweet kiss as an apology.

"Sorry, angel. I don't make the rules," he reminded you.

Any disappointment you felt was soon replaced by the image of Matt sliding down the bed to get between your legs and pull them over his shoulders. Almost as an afterthought, he brought his hand up to his mouth to taste the palm you had drenched. As soon as his tongue touched his skin, you saw a muscle in his jaw twitch. His eyes darkened to look almost predatory, and he tightened his grip on your thighs. He glanced in Frank's direction, silently begging for his permission to proceed.

You didn't see Frank's approval, but you knew exactly when Matt got it because he dove into your cunt like it was a fucking desert oasis. In a lot of ways, it was. He wasted no time with teasing, instead shoving his tongue inside of you as deep as he could get it. Your vision went blurry as your eyes rolled back in your head. Grasping desperately at his hair, you pulled him harder against you until you were worried you would hurt him, but he barely seemed to notice.

He drew his tongue out to give your soaked pussy a few hungry licks, drinking up everything that dripped out of you. The wet noises he created with every suck or swipe of his tongue were enough to have your face flushed with embarrassment and excitement.

Feeling ignored, Frank grabbed your jaw, pulling you into a fervent kiss. He dislodged one of your hands from Matt's hair, guiding it over to rub at his clothed erection. You squeezed him through his pants, humming happily when you felt him twitch and grind up into your palm. Deftly, you undid his button and zipper, tugging his pants down just enough to slip your fingers under the waistband of his underwear. You didn't do anything else until he said it was okay.

"You want it, baby?" he murmured against your lips. You nodded, pushing your hand farther in, but you just barely managed to brush against it before he grabbed your wrist. He broke the kiss to look you in the eye, moving his hand from your jaw to gently hold your neck.

"You gotta use your words, sweetheart. You know that," he crooned.

"Please, can I touch it?" you sighed, moaning when Matt started stroking your clit again. Frank used his grip on your wrist to pull your hand deeper in until you could firmly grab his aching cock. You began tugging it slowly as it pulsed and hardened further in your grasp. You swiped the pad of your thumb over his slit and felt him drip onto your fingers, easing the glide of your palm.

You felt yourself getting close again when Matt stuffed his fingers back inside you and sucked hard at your clit. This time, no one stopped you from falling over the edge. You sobbed as your release rushed through you, tightening your thighs around Matt's head and your hand around Frank's cock. Matt groaned against you, savoring the scent and the taste of your satisfaction. Frank hissed at the added pressure, thrusting up into your fist which was slick with his precum.

The two men reluctantly pulled away from you as you came down from your high, giving you time to catch your breath. They returned to their positions on either side of you, stroking your hair or your shoulders as you refocused on reality.

"You were right," Matt announced, breathing almost as heavily as you were.

Frank smirked, looking over you to assess Matt's disheveled state. "Yeah? 'Bout what, exactly?" he asked.

"Everything," He admitted dreamily. To anyone who didn't know the effect you had on fortunate men, he might seem drunk or high. You supposed he kinda was.

"You were talking about me?" you whispered, hiding your face in Frank's neck. He wrapped an arm around your shoulders, pulling you closer to him.

"I was just braggin' about how good you are, baby," he promised.

Matt laughed quietly at Frank's statement like it was an inside joke no one else would understand.

"He said a lot more than that," Matt disclosed to you. "He said you were the biggest slut he'd ever met. Honestly, he would not shut up about how tight you were, or how good you tasted. I thought he was exaggerating, but I think you just proved me wrong."

You smiled into Frank's shoulder, enjoying the attention. He tapped you lightly on the hip to get you to focus on him.

"I believe you were just given a compliment," he signaled.

Taking the hint, you rolled over to face Matt, angling his face towards you to give him a soft kiss as a thank you.

You looked down to where he was straining against the fabric of his suit. A small wet spot was becoming more visible at the tip of his swollen bulge. You caught yourself before you stared for too long, worried you might start salivating if you let your mind wander far enough.

"That looks uncomfortable," you pointed out. "You should probably take it off before it starts hurting you."

Matt agreed, standing up beside the bed to start stripping off his clothes. If he were dressed normally, you would offer to help, but you didn't even know where to begin with that thing.

"I'm sure she wants to return the favor," Frank advised Matt. "I'll go ahead get her stretched out while you use her mouth, alright?"

When Matt was in just his boxers, you tugged him back down to take your spot in the middle and climbed on top of him. Frank had stood up to finish taking off his own clothes, and when he was done, he kneeled behind you on the bed to get you in the right position.

You found yourself face-to-face with Matt's thinly veiled hard-on and your ass up high for Frank to take you from behind. He slid three of his fingers inside you, pumping them in and out a few times to see how relaxed you already were. As soon as you had freed Matt from his final barricade, Frank pulled his fingers out and shoved his cock inside you in one smooth thrust. You moaned loudly at the sudden intrusion, wincing at the stretch but enjoying it nonetheless. Frank gave you a moment to gather your bearings before he began to move.

"Focus on him, baby. He's the one you're supposed to be paying attention to," Frank directed. That was easier said than done when you were being relentlessly fucked from behind, but you had been wanting to get your mouth on him for a while now, and you weren't gonna pass up the opportunity.

Now that you were seeing him in person, Matt's size was almost intimidating. You were glad Frank took it upon himself to stretch you out first, because you were sure you'd be feeling it in your stomach when it was time to switch. His head looked tight and angry, and you watched as a small bead of clear fluid welled out of the tip and ran down the side. You leaned in to catch it with your tongue, whining softly at the taste.

"There you go, sweetheart," Frank praised.

You licked a long stripe up the underside, stopping when you got to the top to suckle gently at the head. You wrapped your hand around the base to stroke him firmly as you focused on taking the first few inches comfortably. It was already stretching your mouth quite a bit and your jaw was aching from trying to force yourself down on it. Before long, your spit was dripping onto your fingers and sliding down to settle at the base, creating slick sounds as you tugged at his length.

You moaned around him when Frank gave a particularly pointed thrust, nailing your spot dead-on. Provoked by your reaction, he repeated the same motion until your eyes rolled back in your head and you could no longer focus on the task at hand.

"Come on, pretty girl. You can take more than that," Frank fussed. "If you want his help, you can ask for it. Don't be shy, baby."

You were reluctant to ask because you wanted to prove yourself to Matt, but you didn't think you would be able to take more on your own. Usually, you were pretty good relaxing your throat, but there was no way you could swallow even half of him without choking. If you wanted to make him feel good, you would need him to take over and force you to blow as much of him as he wanted.

You pulled off of his cock teasingly, hollowing out your cheeks on the way up and swirling your tongue around the tip. You gave it one more little kiss before resuming your strokes, looking up at him to see which motions garnered the best reactions.

"Please," you whined, using your other hand to guide his to your hair.

"Please what, sweet girl?" Matt asked, petting you gently where you placed his hand. You swallowed your pride, giving in completely to both of them. You no longer had anything to prove. You were ready to be used however they saw fit, not caring about anything except making them feel good.

"Please, fuck my mouth."

"Aww, is it too big for you?" Matt consoled, his voice dripping with false sympathy. "Do you need my help, angel? You're already being fucked on one end, is that not enough?" he mocked, tightening his grip on your hair.

He knocked your hand away from his cock, replacing it with his own so he could rub it across your lips. You opened your mouth for him, and he slowly pulled your head down, forcing you to take him in until you choked. He held you there for a moment, groaning and thrusting up into the wet heat of your mouth before letting you take a breath. He continued like that for a while, guiding your head up and down, forcing you to go deeper each time until you couldn't take anymore.

Behind you, Frank wedged a finger in beside his cock, grunting at the added friction. You gasped at the new stretch, your release slamming into you unexpectedly. You arched your back and pushed into the feeling as he deftly attacked your sweet spot. Frank grinned at your reaction, smacking your ass once to watch you jump and hear your muffled yelp.

"I'm just tryin' to get you loosened up. I didn't mean for you to like it that much, you slut," he teased affectionately. He slipped in another finger, curling them to tug gently at your entrance until he felt that you were ready.

He took his fingers away, giving you a few more hard thrusts before he slid his cock out too, leaving you completely empty. He left a sweet kiss at the base of your spine, letting you know you had done a good job, and moved around you to talk to Matt.

"She's ready for you, if you're interested," Frank informed cockily. He watched how Matt was thoroughly fucking your mouth, hitting the back of your throat with every thrust, pulling you down to meet him half-way. You were doing much better than Frank had expected you to. It looked like your mind was somewhere far away, and you were just letting Matt use your mouth as a cocksleeve.

He started slowing down his movements, letting you up further and further, until you were back to just sucking at his head while he gently stroked your cheek with his thumb. Finally, he pulled you off of him with a soft, wet pop, edging out from under you so he could switch places with Frank. You whined at your sudden emptiness, burying your face in Frank's stomach as he took Matt's vacant spot.

"Is she always this desperate?" Matt asked, replacing Frank behind you. Frank laughed, caressing your head softly as you began mouthing and licking at his abs.

"Pretty much. Actually, she's doing better than she usually is. I think she's just upset that she didn't get you to finish."

"Really? She likes that part?"

"Oh, she loves it. Some days, she even asks me to pull out so I can come in her mouth. Ain't that right, baby?"

You nodded into his hip, sucking a dark bruise into his v-line.

"Why don't you go ahead and finish me off," Frank suggested to you. "I'm sure it'll make you feel better."

He grabbed himself around the base, enticingly pressing the wet head against the seam of your lips. Without hesitation, you took him into your mouth and swallowed him all the way down. You moaned lowly, purring at the feeling of being able to take him comfortably down your throat. He wasn't small by any means, but he was more familiar and significantly less jaw-breaking that Matt.

"Fuck, baby," Frank groaned, tugging at your hair. You were content just to stay like that for a while, holding his heavy length on your tongue and feeling him subtly grind his tip against the back of your throat. With your head still, you could feel every little twitch and taste yourself in every drop that leaked down your throat.

"You wanna move at all?" Frank asked, his muscles tight with restraint. In response, you nuzzled your nose against his skin, swallowing around him in the hopes that he'd let you stay there.

"No? You just like having your sweet little holes filled, huh? That's fine, sugar. You don't have to move an inch, but I'm gonna need more than that if you wanna make me come. Do you wanna make me come, baby?"

You hummed your assent, the vibrations sending a shiver up Frank's spine.

"Then suck," he commanded, and you obeyed. You used as much suction as you could manage, creating a satisfying friction without all the typical motions. You teased the underside of his cock with the flat of your tongue, listening to his quiet grunts as you drew him closer to the edge.

Behind you, Matt was listening to the sound of your wet cunt dripping onto the bedsheets. He kneaded your ass and thighs in his hands, ensuring that you were fully relaxed before trying to fuck you. Soon, he was nestling his cock between your soaked folds, lining himself up with your tight entrance.

He rubbed the small of your back as he began pushing himself in. He was met with an alarming amount of resistance, and he didn't even get the first inch in before you were clenching down around him and letting out a pained whimper. He pulled back, afraid he would tear something if he carried on.

"Frank, it's not gonna fit," Matt told him. Frank huffed, too busy chasing his own pleasure to think about problem-solving.

"It'll fit, just keep going," he reassured. "She likes the stretch. Hurry up and fuck her already."

"If I tried, I would break her," Matt warned. "Why don't we test out a different position?"

"Fine. Hang on for just a second."

Frank tightened his grip on your hair, whispering a quick apology before pulling you halfway off of him. He gave you no warning before he was slamming back in, forcing a surprised squeak out of your chest as he ruthlessly fucked your mouth. Barely a minute passed before Frank's thrusts grew sloppy and more desperate. His cock pulsed wildly against your tongue, and he let out a guttural groan as he came hard down your throat. You eagerly swallowed every drop that spilled out of him, waiting for him to soften a bit before releasing him from your mouth. Laving sweetly at the sides, you cleaned him up as best you could before he pushed your head away from oversensitivity.

"Alright," Frank mumbled, scooting over so you could take his spot in the middle. "On your back, baby."

You flipped over to face Matt, opening your legs so he could settle in between them.

"Pretty slut," he commended, leaning in to kiss you as he lined up with your needy hole once more. "We're gonna make it fit, alright? Don't you worry your cute little head about it."

As soon as the words left his mouth, he began pushing his hips towards yours, his thick cockhead stretching you out obscenely. You winced at the pain, trying to force yourself to relax, but it wasn't working. Matt grunted at the vice grip you had on him, but he didn't advance further until he felt you could handle more.

From beside you, Frank played with your hair and kissed your neck in all your favorite spots until he had taken your mind off the pain. When Matt felt you unclench, he gave you another inch, once again stopping to allow you time to adjust. He continued on like that for a while, feeding his cock into your pussy in small increments until he was completely buried inside you.

As soon as the pain subsided, feeling something that deep was absolutely incredible. You felt yourself get wetter when you realized you could just barely make out the outline of his length poking through your tummy. It was evident to both of you from the very start that this wasn't gonna last long.

"Holy shit, you're squeezing me so tight," Matt groaned, starting a series of very shallow thrusts to get you used to the feeling. "This is what you were made for, sweetheart. You feel so fuckin' good," he praised. Slowly, he began picking up speed, fucking you harder and deeper like he couldn't control it anymore. You felt so full, you figured it was a miracle that he was even able to get half-way in. You couldn't stop the noises that Matt punched out of you with every heightened thrust. Because of his immense size, there was never a moment when he wasn't rubbing directly against your most sensitive areas.

Matt could sense that you were getting close, and he knew he wouldn't be far behind you. He started snapping his hips into yours impossibly harder, spurred on by the prospect of your impending release.

"You gonna come on my cock, angel? It's okay, you can come," Matt encouraged. He heard you cry out and smelled the sudden spike in your arousal. He knew he had you right on the edge. "Come for me sweetheart," he breathed.

You almost screamed as you came, your body arching up off the bed, every muscle tightening and trembling as your pleasure coursed through them. Matt cursed at the feeling of your walls clenching and fluttering around him. He let out a subdued moan as he fucked into you three more times before coming deep inside you. You felt the comforting warmth dripping down your thighs when he slipped out and collapsed on the bed beside you.

When you came down from your high, the night's exertion finally caught up with you. You cuddled into Frank's chest, and he pulled you closer, murmuring to you about how good you were for them. Matt slotted his body into place behind yours, leaving kisses on the back of your neck and stroking your side gently.

"Thank you," he whispered, and before you could respond, he was already asleep. You were about to follow suit, but a thought popped into your head, keeping you awake.

"Is this gonna be a one-time-thing?" you asked Frank, opening your eyes to see his face. He didn't seem surprised by your question. Honestly, he seemed like he'd been expecting it.

"It doesn't have to be," he responded. "If he's ever up for it again, I'd be fine with it."

You nodded, closing your eyes again and starting to drift off to sleep. You passed out in less than a minute, but not before you heard Frank say something that, in the morning, you thought must have been a dream. Nevertheless, it was nice to pretend it was real.

"I love you, baby."

｡ﾟ•┈୨♡୧┈• ｡ﾟ

#frank castle fanfiction #punisher #frank castle smut #frank castle #frank castle x reader #jon bernthal #jon bernthal x reader #jon bernthal smut #matt murdock #matt murdock x reader #daredevil #matt murdock smut #charlie cox #frank castle x matt murdock x reader

[unclewaynemunson]

More often than not, it doesn't work out.

Robin first learned that lesson with Vickie, when she thought she found the love of her life but ended up breaking things off because the way in which Vickie mirrored her anxiety back to her enhanced it tenfold and it turned out to be completely exhausting to keep up with that after the first wave of butterflies had died down.

After Vickie, there was Laura. Laura, with whom it seemed to work out until she told Robin that she couldn't bear keeping up with her weird, unsettling and way too vivid nightmares about Russian spies and monsters from fantasy stories every other night.

After Laura, there was Julia. Julia, who was amazing for four whole months until she told Robin with tears in her eyes that she couldn't tolerate the cheating anymore. It didn't matter how often Robin told her that sleeping with someone didn't necessarily mean sleeping with someone, that Steve was like a brother to her – and that the whole thing was utterly ridiculous in the first place because Robin was very much a lesbian. Needless to say, it didn't work out.

Then, there was Amy. Amy, who, like a cruel twist of fate, actually cheated on Robin. It was only a one-time thing, a drunken kiss during some stupid party, but it was enough to damage Robin's trust in her irreparably. So it didn't work out.

Up until then, she had chalked it up to a string of bad luck or maybe bad taste. But after Louise (who brought up the nightmares again), Valerie (who wanted some adventure in the bedroom and had to guide Robin through a panic attack filled with inexplicable flashbacks when she tried tying her to the bedframe), and Mathilde (who made a problem of Robin's regular 3am calls with Steve when neither of them could sleep), she starts to wonder if it wouldn't be more probable that it is herself who is the problem instead of this whole list of girls.

“Don't you dare say that about yourself,” says Nancy with fire in her voice when Robin finally dares to voice that thought out loud.

They're both lying down on Nancy's brand new couch, a pair of legs dangling over each side and their heads right next to each other in the middle. Except for that couch, the living room is still empty. Boxes are piled up everywhere, still waiting to be unpacked, but they can wait a little longer.

Robin is happy to have Nancy at her side again. It's been a while: college and differing career paths kept them separated through the majority of their friendship. But now Nancy has found her way back to Indiana, only half an hour away from where Robin has been living with Steve and Eddie ever since Mathilde broke up with her a few months ago.

She hasn't really been dating anyone since, and now that Nancy is also living in Indianapolis, she wonders if she'll ever feel the need to. No girl would ever be able to compare to Nancy Wheeler, after all; Robin knew that much as soon as she saw Nancy stepping out of the U-Haul wearing pastel-pink dungarees, with all grown-out curls cascading over her back and a thick layer of eyeliner around her beautiful doe eyes.

“Well, it could be true,” Robin presses on.

“No it can't!” Nancy says it in such an indignant tone that it makes Robin snort skeptically.

“I'm serious, Rob.” It sounds stern. “I know you and I know it's not true. It's not your fault.”

“You're seriously telling me I've been dating seven girls over the past seven years, and none of it worked out, and it's all because of them? All those relationships were wildly different; I'm the one consistent factor in all of them, Nance.”

“Yeah, but that doesn't mean you're the problem.” Nancy says it like it's obvious. “Maybe the problem is that you've been picking girls who all have one single thing in common, and that is that they never wanted to make the effort to really listen to you.”

"Huh." Robin closes her eyes for a second, taking her time to let those words sink in. She never thought about it that way. “You think so?”

“Yeah. Mathilde was a bitch anyway,” Nancy says matter-of-factly. “I mean, did she ever ask you to explain why you've been feeling the need to call Steve in the middle of the night lately?”

Robin shrugs. “That's a bit difficult to explain, isn't it?” she points out.

“That's what I'm saying,” says Nancy. “It's exactly why you keep picking out those kind of girls. Because if you're with someone who will actually listen to your story, you're gonna have a problem. Right?”

And, well, shit. It's not like Robin asked for a free therapy session here, but... Nancy is right. Of course she is. She always is.

Robin turns her head to the side, exchanging her view on the white ceiling for a much better one: Nancy's face, so close to her own that she can take in every little detail. The elegant slope of her nose, the wing of her eyeliner, the freckles on her cheeks, her perfect lips... Her face in this en-profile position is mesmerizing. It's not the first time that the thought comes to Robin's mind that Nancy looks like someone who should be in old paintings.

“Do you think you'll ever try to find someone who listens to you?” Nancy asks.

Robin tries to imagine that scenario; it's difficult. Not just because she doesn't really know how that would work in the first place, but mostly because she doesn't actually want to.

“Nah,” she says, trying to make it sound casual instead of really fucking sad.

“Why not?”

Because nobody can ever compare to you anyway, she thinks. But she bites her tongue and shrugs, turning her head back to the ceiling.

“That would be way too complicated, wouldn't it?”

Nancy shuffles and sighs; Robin feels her breath tickle against her cheek.

“I guess,” she mumbles.

“How did you do it?” Robin asks.

Nancy's dating history is not as tumultuous as Robin's. After things ended between her and Jonathan, she had been solo for a while. Then, there had been Ben, and then Kurt, and then it had again been just Nancy for a long time.

“Did what?”

“Did you ever find a way to tell Kurt about all the shit?”

“Nope.” It doesn't exactly sound like she tried very hard.

“Why not?”

“Because I did the same thing you did,” Nancy says. “Chose the wrong people to do that with. So I didn't have to think about it.”

That doesn't feel completely fair to Robin; Nancy had been with her boyfriends longer than Robin had been able to keep even one of her girlfriends around.

“I liked Kurt, he was nice,” she remarks in an attempt to point out the difference without being too blunt about it.

Nancy sighs. “Yeah, he was nice, but he wasn't... Right. I knew that from the beginning. Same with Ben. Even with Jonathan, in a way. Or Steve, even though I was too young to realize it.”

“What do you mean, not right?”

“Boys.”

“Wha-” Robin turns her head sideways so fast that she's lucky she doesn't pull a muscle.

She sees how Nancy's eyes drop from the ceiling and slowly find their way to Robin's face.

“Took me a while to figure that one out,” she says quietly. “But yeah.”

Robin wishes they were lying in a different position; one that would have made it possible for her to take Nancy's hand and squeeze it gently, or to wrap an arm around her, or to pull her in for a hug.

“Thank you for telling me.”

A soft smile is tugging at Nancy's lips. She looks at Robin like she wants to say something, then looks back up to the ceiling again, and Robin copies her movement, biting her own tongue again in order to give Nancy the time and space she clearly needs right now.

Usually, Robin struggles with silences; she'll feel words pile up inside of her until her need to fill the empty space will take over and she'll inevitably start rambling. But this one actually feels comfortable. She wishes that they could keep lying side-by-side on this couch for the rest of the day.

Unfortunately, they can't, though. There's still way too much work to be done. So Nancy hauls her to her feet and soon, the couch gets company of a coffee table, a couple of cozy armchairs, a bookcase, a TV... There are boxes filled with books, kitchen appliances, picture frames, video tapes, clothes; there are closets that need to get assembled and a heavy bedframe that they can barely get to where they need it.

It feels like it will never end, but after two long days of hauling furniture around, the apartment starts to look like a home. A home for which Robin gets a spare key. It rests cold and shiny against the palm of her hand, where Nancy has dropped it, and it makes her realize how real it is that Nancy is finally living close to her again.

Nancy's couch becomes just as much of a home for Robin as her own living room. It's where the two of them share stories, tell secrets, laugh loudly, cry ugly... It's where they watch movies until deep in the night, snuggled up to each other under a soft blanket. It's where they read books side-by-side on lazy Sunday afternoons. It's where they listen to music together and where they listen to what the other has to tell about their day or about anything that's on their minds. It's where Robin finally gets the courage to tell Nancy that nobody has ever listened to her the way Nancy does. It's where Nancy scoots closer towards her to press a kiss against her cheek, right before she finds Robin's lips and they share their first kiss, warm and homely and perfect.

More often than not, it doesn't work out. But once in a lifetime, it does. And once is exactly enough.

#don't mind me rambling about stranger things #ronance #robin buckley #nancy wheeler #stranger things #fruity ficlet

[reitziluz]

thinking about the way psychics both are and are not a known factor in the world of mp100. the worldbuilding is light, allegorical, and comedic, but even meeting it where it's coming from, it paints a delightful picture of how the rest of the world relates to the supernatural shit.

like, clearly most people don't believe in psychic power, or at least they don't assume it to be real. but when confronted with it, the more common reaction seems to be along the lines of "ah shit, huh, makes sense i guess." inukawa knew mob is a psychic, and brought it up without hesitation, like oh yeah, this is a known thing, but was then surprised among the others to see how much mob can do. the talk show is difficult to interpret, because it was a trap set up for reigen specifically, but how things play out, it feels like being a legitimate psychic isn't quite as outlandish an idea as it would be in our world. actual psychics don't seem to be putting much effort into hiding (if they're even trying to hide), there's unions, the goverment can put together a psychic suicide squad, the news can show a giant broccoli flying, there's books with instructions to meet aliens that actually have some truth to them, and yet people aren't that aware. and yet again, people like mitsuura and amakusa exist.

it feels like the supernatural is... kinda boring? weird stuff just happens occasionally, and it doesn't have much bearing on people's lives. the rest of it works like how essential oils do actually have certain effects and uses (for example, insect repellent), but then there's just a mountain of bullshit and people selling you things, so you don't really bother with any of it. cases like mob feel like ball lightning, as in i remember reading about it right next to absolutely fake shit as a kid and being told it's not real, but it is real, but fucked if anyone knows what exactly it is and some of the reports and theories are suspicious as hell. just. weird shit in the world that's ultimately irrelevant and uninteresting to most people.

the delightful part is that this all reinforces the idea that psychic power is just one quality among many that people can have.

but also.

when reigen founded spirits and such. i do not know how exactly it works where i live, let alone in japan. but registering a business. don't you usually need to put down what type of business you're running? did he have to figure out a close enough option, or is there a standard one to pick for psychic business, something they're considered to fall under, or even a psychic specific one?

delighted by the thought that spirits and such is officially a spa or something instead of what the industry standard is. reigen either didn't know which one people usually pick, or chose against the standard because it was less of a hassle. or tax reasons. imagine.

#mp100 #i love the casual vibe of the worldbuilding #but tbh mostly thinking about like #oops seri you can't become a full partner in the company #the govt knows you're a psychic so we'd be hit with the psychic tax #this is the only form of tax evasion i can think of reigen actually committing dfgdsfgdf

[rosie-writings]

Breathe Me Out, Drink You In

Summary: After the wedding, you and Sam find each other alone in the dressing room and again in the bathroom of your wedding night suite.

Warnings: Sam x Reader smut, Unprotected sex, Semi public, Blowjob, Sex in bath, all the fluff during rough sex

Words: 4.5K

No Y/N Used

Title is from ‘Telomeres’ by Sleep Token

Sam had the eyes that I would wake up to every morning for the rest of my life. 

I could tell; feel it. Somethings people simply know. And I knew. As ridiculous as that sounded, I knew how it sounded, it was true. 

The first time I saw him, it took my friend yanking on my arm to get me to look away. After I answered her, I looked back at him, and his eyes, ever blue and unblinking, still held my body. 

I went home with him that night, and it wasn't a secret for anyone. He kicked out his roommates who were there at that club and their sparkling eyes and jeering smiles were the last memory I had before I got that blond alone. 

He woke up first and brushed my hair and kissed me awake. I didn't leave for two days. 

I also don't remember the last time I had sex that much in two days. It was enough to almost ask my therapist if my addictions swapped up for a weekend. 

I didn't leave until his sleepy looking roommate—the one with the dark hair and leather jackets—came home not caring what he ran into or heard because he simply wanted to sleep in his own bed. I couldn't blame him. I wondered how much he ripped into Sam, after I left, for having to hear us through their shared walls. 

For such a large house, I was caught off guard that their bedrooms shared walls. 

Now it made sense. They wanted to be as close as possible to each other without actually sharing a bed at night. 

It took fourteen months for Sam to propose to me. Then he told me he spent the past seven trying to convince Colby. 

Our lives mended easily. For as big of YouTube channels they both had and shared, I was completely shocked that I didn't know who they were. They didn't know me, but I too made a living making silly videos. 

“Out of everyone, though,” Colby eventually pulled me aside at our engagement party two months ago, “I'm not surprised he chose you. I mean; you're both made for each other. In what other world would it feel right for a couple to get engaged seven months after meeting?”

Seven months after meeting. 

That was how I knew Colby knew that I was the one for his best friend; he agreed the first time Sam asked, but he didn't want to lose him. He didn't want to lose him to the possibility of being heart broken. 

It was clear as day, now, to all of us; our entire friend group. 

I was theirs, they were mine. 

And Sam and I were one. 

“Literally-Literally—no really—I told her that—” Sam broke into laughter as the music drowned his words. I smiled and tried to keep down my own laughs as much as possible from the recognition of the story he told. His arm hung around my neck with a drink in his hand. While he was distracted in conversation, I sipped from it. Tara gave me a look. “So I told her that—I was like ‘Yeah no, no we’re getting married in May, you know,’” Sam’s voice was soft as he remembered the words I listened to him tell that one Hotel manager. God, he was so awkward in that moment I was surprised his face didn’t flare pink.

”And she gave me a look and looked her up and down and tells her that she wasn’t the one girl we’ve brought there.” At that point I burst out laughing. I remembered the hotel; it wasn’t even a hotel that gave us enough substance or evidence so we fucked around during the entire video.

I still get hate for not being serious enough in that video.

”And I look at her, apparently shocked, and before I say anything she goes ‘You see a lot of things working at hotels for as long as I have-‘ I cut her off laughing and she’s just glaring at me, I go ‘Oh you mean that one blonde and brunette? That’s literally Kris and Celina our best friends from Canada.’ And I’m not joking, right at that moment, Colby’s coming back from grabbing shit and doesn’t see her and says ‘Alright babes, ready to find ghost pussy?’” Sam takes a step back, and my best friend who tood across from me burst out laughing; the friend next to her dropped her jaw.

”To be clear,” I laughed. “It was almost three am by that point, we had two energy drinks, and from our first investigation, we knew there wasn’t jack shit there so it was like moral support for us to not start breaking down sobbing.”

”Oh my god!” Our friend cried as she sucked literal tears in. “That’s why she gave us such weird looks when we checked in!” Tears actually fell by now. My best friend and a couple other girls also stayed at the hotel a week after me, Sam and Colby stayed, and they booked the same room under the boys’ names since it was in the middle of a chain of investigations we did together. It was easier for them to book all the rooms under their names, and the girls and I booked all the flights.

”Dude, there is no way I’m going back,” I sobbed. “It was too funny.”

”I’m so embarrassed,” Sam gasped through laughter. “Like what does she think—“

”I know,” my best friend cried. 

Our voices were roughened by the alcohol and the sheer decibel we had to shout over the music and other heightened conversations. We were outside; the sun set halfway behind the ocean horizon and shot orange stripes across the once blue sky. 

It was the night before our wedding.

Instead of individual bachelor/bachelorette parties, we combined our weddings parties and went out. This was a lounge we went to once before, and we talked about it for months and months after. It was a phenomenal night. Of course we chose this place for this special moment. 

Sam didn’t leave my side all night.

I tried my hardest to not look at him because if I did, I would never look away and then it would escalate into things our best friends would be traumatized seeing.

“I love you,” he said later in the night when the strand lights that encompassed the ever large pergola outside the lounge we danced under. “God, I love you so much it scares me.” I nodded. I didn’t move other than the tiny movements we made; we stopped dancing completely regardless of the loud music and other busybodies around us.

“I know,” I hummed. My arms rested around his neck. He caved towards the drag of my thumb on his skin. “Love you too, so much.” My voice fell into a whisper. 

The next time I saw him, it was at the altar. 

I told him I wanted him to wear white too because he was just as much mine as I was his. We were married in the garden of a hotel downtown; the reception inside opulent but simple and blended with the art deco chandeliers and plush green carpets. Other than the room, there really was no color in our wedding. 

Everyone wore white. My bridesmaids’ dresses were a-line slip in champagne and the groomsmen wore off white suits with minimal black accents; the only thing that separated Sam and I. We didn't wear anything other than white. 

After, when the adrenaline settled and the taste of Sam's committal kiss still on my lips, we stood upstairs. We took photos outside before we shared a flute of champagne privately. 

“Alright, reception is in 10.” I remember Colby telling us as he ushered the rest of the wedding party out. A wave of nervousness hit my stomach when he led them all out. My best friend gave me a look and I swore my face burned. 

As the door closed, Sam moved into my vision. He looked at me without saying a word. My ears rang in the silence; I figured that his did too. Then, his hand reached up and held my face. I basked in his gaze as his eyes raced all over me.

He kissed me sweetly. I hummed as I tasted the same champagne in his cool mouth, and I took him deeper and deeper until his body flushed with mine.

”Sam,” I moaned quietly. His mouth raced down my neck and my hand tangled in his hair. I pulled him back since much was on my mind.

“I haven’t been able to-to basically worship you all day. You look unbelievable, you think I’m not going to take this time to touch you?”

“Sam—“ I gasped his name when he rushed me and pinned me against the wall with a kiss. Melted into it, my hands wrapped around his neck, and he pried his hips in between my legs. ”Oh my god,” I gasped when I realized what he wanted; what we were about to do. “We have ten minutes.”

”And you haven’t been wanting me to touch you for the past two hours?” My face heated.

That was what those explicit messages he sent me while I got ready with my bridesmaids were for.

”Hurry,” I whispered, and so he did.

One of my legs was over his elbow as he finished tugging at his pants. 

“Oh my fucking god—“ His whisper rushed out fast as his fingers navigated my underwear—the lingerie I planned for him to tear off later, not now—and shoved his fingers into the warmth he created.

”No-No,” I moaned as his fingers filled me over and over. “Just get inside me.”

He didn’t fight it. Something about our precarious situation and lack of time added fire under my skin; I liked when he listened to what I demanded of him. Of course it was only in these situations. 

“Fuck me,” I whispered with a tone that was entirely too sweet for the vulgar words. “Holy shit—” He held my neck, thumb hooked under my chin, as his other hand left an imprint in my hip. 

“Yeah?” He was so quiet that I hardly heard him, and it left my legs so weak I was grateful he held me up. “I'm going to cum in you and then we're going to party with our friends at the reception and my cum is going to stay there making a mess between your legs and you're not going to clean it up, right?”

“Fuck—Yes,” I gasped so entirely quietly and meekly that I had to close my eyes. I almost passed out. With a louder moan, he leaned against me and placed kisses on my neck.

“Touch yourself-Touch yourself for me, make yourself cum with me,” he whispered in my hair. I shoved a hand in between us and made myself see stars with him. “Yeah,” he laughed when my legs gave out. He fucked into me harder to keep me up against the wall. 

“Going to,” I cried. 

“Yeah?” He teased; his voice raised in a breathy question and he stood back up again. Our noses almost touched he was so close. “Better cum so hard around me; make me cum, make me fill you.”

He was right there. 

My eyes were closed; tears burned my eyes. I wondered if one fell because his thumb wiped under my eye. 

“Know you want it, don't you? I know you want me inside you out there. I know you love thinking about my cum dripping down your legs in front of everyone. Love feeling me inside of you all the ti—”

My orgasm grabbed me by the throat and pushed me against the wall. 

“Oh shit—” he moaned loudly as his body lurched forward into mine. God, he was right. I loved it. I also loved that my body could demand his orgasm from him at my will. 

He moaned my name as he finished our climaxes and held himself against the wall as well. 

We caught our breaths; his forehead rested on mine. 

“Come on, my love,” he gasped breathlessly. Then he kissed me slowly as he gently pulled out of me and let my leg down. I stumbled into him but did not pull away from his mouth. 

I thought about his taste as we walked hand in hand downstairs where we were announced into the reception. 

The night was a blur.

Between kisses, dances, tears, and drinks, I forgot most of the night. I knew I was happier than I ever had been, and with Sam’s hand in mine, it was enough for me. 

Until we were alone.

I remembered my arms coiled around his. I remembered leaving kisses across his face and neck. It took everything in his power to keep his hands on the wheel as my hands roamed his body.

Finally.

It was like my senses came to me the moment the door closed, and we were alone in our silent hotel suite. 

My heart raced as his hands brushed my hair over my shoulder. I looked down at the loose waves as his fingers undid my dress. Every brush of his fingers down the skin of back sent waves of chills across my skin. I swallowed tightly. When my dress was loose enough, I stepped out of it and he lightly tossed it back; draped over the chair for us to deal with later. 

Then I turned and faced him. His eyes hazed with need, and I grabbed his neck and kissed him tightly. He hummed into my mouth, and I drank in every noise he made. 

I couldn’t resist. My fingers went for the buttons of his clothes, and he sighed a breath of contentment and tipped his head back in pleasure. His hands never left my body as I unbuttoned his jacket and tossed it to my dress. Then I worked on his button up and it slipped to the floor leaving him only in his pants.

He only had an inch on me—at least—with these shoes on, and I had to admit, I liked it. But then he dove down to his knees.

“Sam,” I gasped. My hand tangled in his hair. I didn’t care that his hair was sweaty and warm, and his body even more so. We were both disgusting by now. After the long day we had of covering our bodies with our thick clothes, sweat, kisses, and arousals, of course it wasn’t perfect. Of course we weren’t clean. But what did it matter?

And that was when my heart skipped beats. 

I looked down, and Sam stared up at me darkly as his hands moved down my legs to unclamp my shoes. The image of my body standing in front of him—hardly covered in the ivory lingerie—while he kissed my skin and untied my shoes almost took both of my knees out.

When my shoes were with his a few feet away from us, he kissed up my body and paused at my thighs. He still was on his knees, and I was sure I held onto his hair so I wouldn’t fall over.

”Oh my god—“ he gasped.

To be honest, it was disgusting. I felt gross and my lingerie was nasty by now, but heat flooded my body when his fingers trailed the remnants of his cum that had slipped down my skin during the reception. 

“Sam,” I repeated his name. What other words did I know? I moaned as his tongue replaced his fingers and finally, he pulled the lace to the side. “Fuck—“ I gasped when his mouth moved up and up until it tasted my arousal. “Please.” I stumbled. “I-I can’t—“

”I know,” he sighed after he selfishly stole a few more seconds of tasting me. Then he stood up. “God, I love you.” He kissed me. “I love you, love you,” and he kissed me again. It took everything in my power to let him go.

My stomach fell from its place when he walked to the bath and ran the hot water. 

I walked over to him. My hand raced over his back. He stood up to me, kissed me. 

“Okay,” he sighed. “Get in, I’ll get us drinks.”

”I-I mean, okay, but I’m still wearing—“

”Get in,” he gently doubled down. His smile fell slowly, eyes darkened. My thumb popped from the lace around my body I held onto. 

I got in. 

My hair draped over the back of the tub to keep it from getting wet for now. As the water filled, bubbles brother up around me. I have never sat in a bath with clothes on before; maybe this was just lingerie, but it felt odd. My body heated when I imagined Sam taking off the lace soaking wet lace. I watched as the water covered my body inch by inch.

When Sam came back into the bathroom, he placed the drinks down. My eyes weren’t on anything except him. He turned to me, and before he could do anything else, I rose to my knees. He sucked in a harsh breath when my fingers grabbed him by his belt.

He gasped my name and his hand brushed into my hair. Thankfully he didn’t stop me; I was pushed sick with waiting for him. I pulled his pants and underwear away—just enough for easy access—and looked up at him. He stared down at me with glossy eyes. 

I took him in my mouth without looking away from him.

But he looked away from me; eyes closed with pleasure and head tipped back. I moaned around him and he stumbled forward.

”Oh my god, baby, let me in with you.” I hummed again, and this time his fingers yanked on the roots of my hair. I gasped for air when I came off him. He tore his clothes off the rest of the way and got in with me. 

Immediately, I moved over to him and straddled him. 

I kissed him before he could do anything else. His hands raced up my slick legs and invaded the lace around my hips. Our moans mixed as I grinded down on him; his hands leading my motions. The water was already hot and the heat that ignited under my skin didn’t help.

I was long past aching for him.

I needed him more than I needed to breathe, to see.

With a shaking breath, he moved the lace to the side and I sank down on him. His head tipped back and I kissed down his neck; the vibrations of his moans against my lips made me move my hips faster and faster.

His hand linked under my jaw and our breaths mixed between open mouthed kissed.

”You feel so good,” I whispered. He smiled. “It’s kinda counterintuitive for you to put me in the bath just to make me all dirty again,” I said. 

“Then let me clean you,” he said, and I still drank down his words, his breath. He leaned over and unzipped my bag, and from the bag inside of it, he grabbed my bottle of body wash. 

He left it on the floor for a moment. He turned back to me.

I gasped when he pushed me back and I was empty again. He sat up and forced me to sit on my knees on either side of his legs. I watched as my fingertips snaked up his arms; the water once hot turned cool under my touch, and chills ran through me at the feeling of his skin under my hands.

Then I noticed the way his eyes ravaged my body. Fingers slipped under the bottom of my lingerie and he took one glance at my eyes before he unclasped the lace behind me. His lips left warmth and kisses and bites on my skin.

My breath was taken from me when the lace slipped off me completely. It hung over the side of the tub.

”Sam,” I gasped, and he moaned as he kissed down my neck and tasted every part of me. My hands tangled in his hair as his lips traveled down and down; he left red and purple bruises over the curves of my chest. I wondered if he tasted the quickened beats of my heart.

He pulled away to grab the soap. I watched as he poured some in his fingers.  

I couldn’t help it.

His hands were so incredibly soft and slippery over my skin as they washed me. He washed every part of my body, and after, his hands slipped back over my chest. 

I sank down on him again.

”Fuck,” he gasped quietly. I thrusted myself up and down, and I didn’t care if the water moved more, if it splashed where it shouldn’t.

”Oh shit,” I moaned, and my moans increased as his mouth replaced his hands. I knew my skin was bitter with soap, but he still tasted me and sucked on my skin until I was flushed. The electricity of his tongue and mouth over my nipple shot straight down in between us, and it didn’t matter we were submerged under water anymore; I was so wet he nearly slipped out of me. 

“Yeah like that, oh my god—“ he moaned when I quickened my pace.

”Need you,” I gasped. My legs were too fatigued for me to do much more; there was no traction in the tub, and I slowly lost strength.

He lifted me up. 

“Sam—“ I cried when he forced me around. My eyes met the only light in the room; the orange glow behind the mirror. 

Then my hands grabbed on the edge, and I held myself up as his hands raced down my back, my hips.

He yanked off the soaked lingerie and tossed them aimlessly. 

There wasn’t a warning; no more hesitation. I knew that I was so far past the point of foreplay and teasing, and from the force he used on me, I knew he must have been in the same position. One of my knees hung on the ledge while another was still in the water. Sam thrusted into me and grabbed onto my waist so I didn’t slip anywhere.

”Holy shit! Please, oh my god—“ My moans fell incoherent as he finally fucked me like I needed. He too gasped a string of moans, and his nails dug into the slick skin of my sides.

“God you’re so perfect,” he groaned. “Always take me so well.”

”Sam, please.”

“Please what?”

”I’ve needed you for so long.”

”You’ve had me all day,” he laughed.

”Then fuck me. I need to feel you so hard for days.” He cursed under his breath again. He stood me up and used clean water from the faucet to make sure we were rinsed clean.

”Out,” he said. I rushed out of the tub and grabbed a towel and dried off to not get water everywhere. He haphazardly did the same, but his eyes never left my body; I saw them in the reflection of the mirror.

And then I was shoved against the counter. 

“Sam!” I cried and I watched our reflection as he thrusted into me again. He lifted my leg, and my knee rested on the edge of the freezing granite. 

“Watch me,” he demanded and my eyes met his in the reflection. “Watch us; watch me give you want you want.” 

“Oh shit,” I cried roughly. His fingers gripped the roots of my hair and he yanked to keep me upright. If my world wasn’t rocked in that moment, I would have blushed from the sounds of our bodies colliding and moans bouncing off the walls. 

“Sam,” I cried his name until tears formed in my tired eyes. “I’m so close.”

”Then cum for me, my love,” he said gently. “Want you to cum so hard for me.” I gasped and choked on my breath when he grabbed my arm and shoved my hand in between us to lure me closer and closer to my climax.

My knees nearly gave out when it washed over me. He didn’t slow down; he fucked me harder. His hands held up my hips since I clearly forgot how to, and he didn’t give me space to come down after my high.

”Sam! Fuck—please—please! Oh my god, it’s so much—“

He grabbed my throat and yanked me back. His mouth was so close to my face, I felt the warmth.

 “Is it really too much?” His voice was low and sent thick chills across my skin.

”Yes! Need-Need you to cum.”

”Yeah baby? Where do you want me? Inside—“

”In my mouth. Want you to cum down my throat.”

”Fuck,” he gasped and let go of me. “On your knees,” he demanded and I didn’t mind if they were bruised when they met the floor. I looked up at him as he grabbed my hair and thrusted deep into my mouth. The tears finally fell, and as he tried to pull back and lighten his thrusts, I yanked him in and pushed my tongue up against him tighter.

”Holy shit—“ He gasped and his lips parted. I sucked harder, and watched his face twist with pleasure with every movement of my mouth. I knew. I knew him inside and out; I knew what would bring him on my knees for me. So I didn’t go easy.

He moaned my name. I loved that tone; the tone of warning.

”Fuck!” He cried and another moan of my name became sweet music to my ears. “Coming—“

My eyes snapped shut as the first wave of burning tore down my throat. He held onto my hair for dear life as I drank him down, and before his orgasm was even finished, he forced himself out of me. I opened my mouth before I swallowed the rest of his fluid, and as more striped my tongue, the rest slipped out of my mouth and down my cheek.

”Holy shit, holy shit, you fucking—“ Finally, I opened my eyes and he knealt down in front of me. A smile matched with a blush pulled at his face as he wiped his cum from my face with his thumb. 

He kissed me regardless of the mess of my face and mouth. I pressed the remnants of his cum into his mouth and he moaned and kissed me deeper, firmer. 

He pulled away when air was necessary.

”Come on,” he sighed. “Want to lay down and hold you, love you.”

”So this wasn’t you loving me?” I shot back with a smirk. He rolled his eyes.

”Everything I do with you is out of love, even if it’s fucking you like a slut.”

”Oh, okay that’s good,” I laughed, and he helped me up.

After we cleaned ourselves up, he brought me the forgotten champagne and even if it was lukewarm now, we drank it down and kissed one more time. As he left the bathroom with my hand in his, I stole one last look at myself in the mirror.

Behind me, light drops of water reverberated in the room from my soaked lingerie that hung over the faucet in the tub. 

✧˖*°࿐

Taglist (Comment to be added):

@a-random-google-user

@graceciesiels22

#sam and colby #sam golbach #colby brock #18+ only #minors dni #sam golbach x reader #sam golbach smut #rosie writings #rosie hub