#god i cannot wait to see where this goes | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

bangtanflirt · 8 months

Text

(Un)natural Instincts (Part 2)

angst, fluff, smut

Pairings: OT7 x Fem Reader, Human CEO Reader, Human Assistant Yoongi, Wolf Hybrids Joon, Jin, Hobi, Jimin, Tae, and Kook.

Basic premise: You and your assistant end up rescuing six wolf hybrids. No part of the process is easy.

Part 1 > Part 2 > Part 3

General Warnings: Hybrid abuse and lab experimentation, hybrids as second-class citizens/owned property, future smut (Minors DNI, 18+ content)

Specific Warnings: torture collars, needles, mention of past dubcon (hybrids under influence of the synthetic hormones cannot properly consent), more inaccurate business talk,

____

It’s 7am the next day when your actual assistant shows up at your door, with your precious Americano in hand.

“I heard about the coffee mishap yesterday, so I thought I’d bring you this a little earlier than usual.”

“You are my savior.”

Yoongi laughs as you invite him in. Your assistant is one of the few people you found you could let your guard down around. He’s probably the closest thing you have to a friend.

“Is everything alright with you? You never call off work, and you didn’t reply to the message I sent.”

“Sorry, there was a lot going on. Everything’s fine now, just had a little scare with my mom’s blood pressure. She’s good though!”

“Oh thank god. Are you sure you don’t need more days off to take care of her?”

“My brother is keeping an eye on her, but I very much appreciate the sentiment.”

“Of course. Don’t hesitate to step out when you need. Or if you need help with her medical bills, I’m always here.”

“Woah woah, calm down there before I start spreading a rumor that you’re actually a nice person Y/N.”

You roll your eyes and laugh, “Don’t you dare.”

But the joking atmosphere only lasts for two seconds before your mood turns solemn.

“I’m actually so far from a nice person you wouldn’t believe it.”

And so it goes, you explaining the entire fiasco of last night. You know you deserve the judgy look he tries to hide when you get to how easily you caved in. But there’s also sympathy in his eyes, because he’s one of the few people in the world who would even try to understand where you’re coming from.

“That’s not all…they also…um…gave me one.”

He looks puzzled.

“They gave you a collar? But you don’t even have a hybrid.”

You take a deep breath before uttering the next sentence.

“They gave me a hybrid.”

“WHAT?!”

“Shhh! Keep your voice low, he’s sleeping in one of the guest rooms right now!”

He switches to a whisper yell instantaneously.

“You took a hybrid home with you? Are you insane?!”

“Maybe I am. I don’t know, I wasn’t exactly acting with a plan. I just couldn’t send him back to get tortured. You should see him Yoongi, he looks like he’s been through hell and back.”

The man’s eyes softened.

“I don’t know how you’re going to get yourself out of this mess, but I guess I’m getting dragged into it with you, aren’t I?”

“You can always quit, you know. I’d give you a cushy desk job somewhere in the company.”

“Eh I’ll wait. I’m still not fed up with you yet, even if I think you’re actually insane for this. So is the hybrid going to just lounge around here while you’re at work? Shouldn’t there be some supervision?”

You nod.

“Yeah, I notified the housekeepers already, told them I’d pay extra if they take care of him for me. His name’s Jungkook by the way. 60% human and 40% gray wolf.”

“40% is a lot.”

He’s right. The very few pet wolf hybrids in the market right now are 25% wolf, as that’s the max percentage before they get too dangerous to handle.

“Yeah, but I’m more of a threat to him than he is to me at this point.”

___

The workday is long, and you’re mentally not even there. Every five minutes, you’re thinking about Jungkook and how he’s doing. Thankfully, the housekeepers keep sending you updates to assure you he’s doing fine.

You scroll through with relief, reading what he’s up to throughout the day. Apparently, he was terrified of the shower, but had no problem drawing himself a bath. Another text let you know he loves the omelet the chef prepared for lunch. And the rest of the texts are just notifying you that he’s resting in his room at various points in the day. So far so good, thankfully.

With your mind at some ease, you can actually focus on work.

You get your hands on everything Pet Paradise can give on the Obedience Collar before officially signing a contract. There’s information that’s classified, mainly the patent for the synthetic hormones, but the books and research procedures are documented in the files in front of you. And unfortunately, they look spotless. The money is all there in a clear trail, no gaps or unusual patterns, and the research procedure follows all protocol needed. You want to just hide under your desk and avoid this entire situation.

You’re scheduled to tour the research facility tomorrow, and the last thing you want to do is see five more hybrids as scared as Jungkook—especially knowing you can’t scoop these ones up and take them home. But you’re holding out hope. There’s still a chance that something’s wrong at the facilities, something not shown on paper. At this point you’d settle for the smallest thing and find a way to blow it up so the whole operation has to be shut down. You’ve got some of the best lawyers in the country, so you might as well use them. You just need something to be wrong.

It's around 6:45pm when you arrive home, and one of the housekeepers greets you with a warm smile, immediately jumping into how well-behaved Jungkook is. It makes you wince to hear him described like that, especially knowing the amount of needles piercing his skin just to achieve the “well-behaved” status.

The staff all leave as you arrive, knowing you like them to be done by the time you're back. The chef has already left hours earlier, as he usually prepares dinner in advance and keeps it in the fridge.

Jungkook’s door is slightly ajar, and you peek in to see the boy melted into the bed. It’s weird; he looks a lot more tired than yesterday, eyes barely keeping themselves open. It’s probably the hormones, you conclude somberly.

“Jungkook, it’s time for dinner. Come on out.”

The boy takes the last bit of energy he has to trudge to the dinner table, and you put a heated up bowl of kimchi-jjigae down. You sit across and join, noticing that the stew is extra flavorful today.

“Mhmm, Chef Gyu really outdid himself with this one. And I bet the omelet was just as delicious. I was told you loved it, is that true?”

You look over expecting an answer, but what you see instead is Jungkook almost falling asleep right into the bowl before catching himself at the last minute.

Maybe the side effect of the hormones make him too sleepy to do anything?

Your thoughts are interrupted by your ringtone. It’s Chef Gyu.

“Hello Chef, I was just singing your praises for this food.”

There’s a nervous chuckle at the other end of the line.

“Thank you Y/N, glad you and your new friend liked it.”

“Is something wrong? You usually don't call this late.”

“Um, yes, actually. The reason I called is because of your hybrid.”

“What do you mean? I was told he stayed in his room for most of the day. Did he cause you any trouble?”

You look over, but Jungkook is too exhausted to register that you’re talking about him.

“No, none at all. He was extremely polite. The problem was the housekeeping staff…they didn’t do any of the work today.”

You feel a pit in your stomach, putting the pieces together.

“Did they…did they make Jungkook clean the house?”

“Yes Miss. They were watching TV for practically the whole time. I should’ve told you earlier, but I told myself it wasn’t my place. I’m deeply sorry.”

“Thank you for telling me now. I appreciate it a lot. I have to go.”

You hang up abruptly, seething the minute the phone is cut.

There’s a million different ways your mind is conjuring up of how to ruin the housekeeping agency, make them cry bankruptcy as you blacklist them from working anywhere ever again. The rage inside you is glowing red, and the only thing getting you to calm down at all is your objective of getting Jungkook back into bed before he actually does fall asleep into his dinner. You support his weight gently, grateful that he’s awake enough to zombie-walk wherever you lead him. It’s only when he’s tucked under the blankets do you let the anger stir up again.

They made him clean the entire house by himself. A house that usually takes eight people to clean, they made him do all alone so they could kick back and relax with your flatscreen TV. It astonishes you how cruel people can be, how they can look into his scared doe eyes and take advantage of him.

The world is not on Jungkook’s side right now, it seems.

___

Yesterday’s incident is fresh in your mind the next morning. Thankfully, Yoongi found a new housekeeping service at the last minute. You’re still worried that the same thing might happen again, but you can’t afford to miss work today; so, you do the best that you can and ask Chef Gyu to keep an eye on the situation while he’s cooking.

Today’s the day you need to tour the lab facilities for the Obedience Collar—a task you’d trade in to do quite literally anything else. Yoongi looks at you with concern, seeing the strain this visit is putting on you.

“Hey, it’s going to be okay. Isn’t the plan to go in and find something to shut the whole thing down?”

“But if I can’t shut it down? What if there’s nothing wrong there either, and I have to look into the faces of five other abused hybrids and know I’m ruining their lives? What if I just call the whole thing off? Yes Mr.Kang is going to be insufferable and yes it’s going to cause a blow to my reputation, but it can’t be worth it to go through with this. It’s just not right.”

The room is silent for a second before Yoongi speaks up.

“It’s a little more complicated than that.”

“What do you mean?”

“I was trying to find a good time to tell you since yesterday, but you’ve been so stressed that I didn’t know how…”

“Spit it out Yoongi.”

“Kang got on the board of directors at Jewel Accounting.”

Your blood runs cold. Jewel Accounting is one of your key partners.

“W-what do you mean? Isn’t that a conflict of interest? How can he be on the board that has to audit his own company?”

“He’s overseeing consulting, not audits. Pet Paradise wouldn’t be his client, but I’m afraid pulling out of this deal on a whim is going to make business a lot harder for us. The only way out is finding a good legal argument against investing.”

You want to shove your head into a bucket of cement.

___

The lab is cold and sterile, with glaring fluorescent lights, medical lab equipment spread everywhere, and white-tiles lining floor to ceiling. The researchers guiding you, however, seem to be in a chipper mood, smiling as if they don’t torture hybrids on a daily basis here. First, your team is taken around to look at the facility in general. Jungkook’s adverse reaction to showers makes sense when you see the one tiny sad looking shower stall they use—a lab assistant boasts about the stall being “efficient” by fitting at least three of them in at once.

Yoongi lightly touches your shoulder at different points throughout the tour, as if to ground you. There’s no beds, just a chamber with cots on the floor, and the food packets of sludgy brown gruel are easily the least appetizing thing you’ve ever seen.

“And now we have the part you are all, no doubt, most excited for: the research subjects!”

You hold your breath, dreading what comes next.

One by one, each wolf hybrid is brought out and lined up in front of you, all with the same fear engraved in them as Jungkook. They might be the hybrids, but you’re the one with urge to claw someone’s eyes out at the moment.

“We’ve trained different ones for different purposes, just to test how well the collar can make them behave in different situations. Jungkook was given away before any specific training, but the rest are skilled in different domains. First up we have Jin, Jimin, and Taehyung.”

Three of the hybrids step forward. One is a broad-shouldered blonde, with two smaller-framed brunettes next to him.

“These three have been trained for housework and taking care of children. Now, we know the image of a wolf-hybrid putting a baby to sleep sounds ridiculous, but this technology really is that advanced.”

Someone in the back makes some joke about a wolf singing rock-a-bye baby and everyone laughs. You and Yoongi fake a laugh to keep up appearances.

“The next one is Hoseok”

He’s lean with slicked-back black hair, and you notice he’s the only one dressed up, with a low v-neck shirt that leaves plenty of his chest exposed. More than he’s comfortable with, it seems, because you notice his hands itching to cover himself up. He doesn’t though, just fidgets with the sides of the shirt instead.

“He’s a romantic companion. Trained to give pleasure to any gender and for any intimate situation. He can fulfill every fantasy your minds can conjure up!”

There’s some snickers erupting again, but neither you or your assistant can attempt to fake laugh this time. Especially not when he makes eye contact, giving you a trained flirty smile that doesn’t reach his eyes one bit.

“And the last one is Namjoon, the pack alpha.”

Namjoon steps up, the tallest of them all. He stands the straightest as well. His hair is black and his eyes are more dragon-like than wolf, looking straight ahead with a stoic expression. The only indication of his scared nature is his trembling fingers and pleading eyes, but that aside, he looks as still as a statue.

“He’s a guard hybrid, perfect to keep intruders away. He’s been trained in a mix of defensive martial arts. Plus, he’s an alpha so you’d have to be insane to try to fight him off. Fun fact, hormone packs for alphas are different—they have a higher dosage. It took some experimentation, but we finally got the levels right.

And with that, you’ve seen the whole pack! Normally, training a wolf hybrid to do any of these would take at least two years, and that’s only for the ones 25% max wolf DNA. God knows training a 40% wolf would be nearly impossible. But with the help of the Obedience Collar, not only can we train higher percentages of wolves, but we can train them in as little as three months! As Mr.Kang probably told you a thousand times already, this will really revolutionize the hybrid market!”

___

You toss your laptop bag onto the sofa right as you come in through the door, kicking your heels off and slouching into your favorite recliner. You can’t be bothered to put things up in a tidy manner at the moment, especially with how shitty you feel.

There wasn’t a single flaw you could find at the lab today. All the equipment had passed inspection checks and were state-of-the art, the researchers had proper credentials and specialized licenses in hybrid research, and every procedure conducted was documented thoroughly—you made it a point to skip over the entire section for Hoseok, wanting to stay far away from the details of what he was made to do.

You let out a frustrated groan. Forgetting you’re no longer alone in your house, hearing footsteps shuffle spooks you for a second, before you see the wolf hybrid timidly come into the living room. Thankfully, he looks well-rested today. Chef Gyu did text you a while back that the new cleaners were doing well, and Jungkook was actually resting in his room for real this time. He does a quick bow before walking over and propping your heels up correctly. His next mission seems to be to put your carelessly tossed laptop bag in its proper place.

“You don’t need to do that for me Jungkook. I can do it myself.”

“Sorry Miss.”

You hate how meek he sounds, and that he’s the one apologizing in this situation. You should be getting on your knees spilling apologies right now, for going to that lab to see his pack be flaunted off like toys. But instead, he’s looking at you as if he’s the guilty one.

“You didn’t do anything to apologize for. Thank you for tidying up, I appreciate it.” You give me a reassuring smile, but he seems more confused than anything else. He doesn’t know if that means to do it more in the future or not do it all…he wishes you could just give simple commands instead of these tests.

You sit down for dinner, but don’t know how much of an appetite you have after today.

“Do you like the fried rice?”

“Yes Miss” he says between big spoonful, and the way he talks with his cheeks full makes you melt a little.

“Call me Y/N, please.”

“Yes Miss Y/N.”

“Just Y/N is fine”

He raises a brow,

“Pets should address their owners politely, Miss Y/N.”

That sentence makes your skin crawl. The way he so casually refers to himself as a pet, and to you as an owner.

“It’s okay Jungkook, I like being called Y/N.”

“…if you say so, Y/N.”

The name alone feels so wrong on his tongue, making him worry that someone in a lab coat is about to come drag him away for extra obedience training.

“Thank you. So, what have you been doing all day?”

“I tried to help out with the housework, but the people today told me that wasn’t my job…which was really confusing because the people yesterday told me that it was my job.”

“It’s not your job.”

“What is my job Mis—I mean, Y/N? I know I don't have specialized training, but I'm a quick learner! If you could give me a list on how to be good here, I’ll do my best and follow it.”

You want to tell him he doesn’t have to worry about things like that anymore, but you’re concerned that a conversation like that will malfunction his brain. How could it not, when the hormones flowing through his body plus the brainwashing tell him that’s all he should be thinking about.

“There is one thing you could do for me”

His wolf ears perk up, eager for a command.

“It’s really hard to keep up with the latest shows with my job, but I feel left out when everyone in the office has seen something I haven’t. If I give you a list, you think you could watch them for me and give me the summaries?”

“Yes absolutely! I’ll take detailed notes and tell you everything!”

There’s genuine excitement in his eyes. Jungkook’s never had the opportunity to watch TV before, and he can’t believe his luck. He doesn’t show his joy too much though, fearing that you’ll think he’s using the assignment as an excuse to slack off. He wants to be good, wants to show you he’s well-trained.

“Perfect. You’ll be helping me out a lot.”

You have to bite your lip to keep a straight face, endeared by how hard he’s trying to hide his excitement. But the moment is short-lived, as Jungkook’s face turns sour in an instant.

“What are you thinking about?”

“My pack. They’d probably love watching TV too.”

You don’t say anything to that.

Dinner ends with an uncomfortable silence looming in the air, that is until Jungkook spills juice on himself.

“I’m so sorry!”

“It’s not a big deal, don’t worry about it.”

“B-but you just got me these clothes. I was being careless. I’m so sorry.”

“It’s really fine, it’s not hard to get it dry-cleaned. I’ll put the dishes up, so go in and change into something else.”

He gives you one last string of “I’m so sorry”s before heading off to his room.

Once you’ve loaded the dishwasher, you make your way upstairs to the boy’s room, seeing if he needs anything before bed. His bedroom door is open, as is the bathroom door. You follow the sounds of scrubbing before being met with his back to you, hunched over the sink, trying to get the stain out of the white t-shirt. He’s topless and you know it’s wrong to ogle at his incredibly fit physique right now, but something catches your attention right before you’re about to avert your eyes.

Blue splotches pepper his waist, almost bruise-like but not quite.

“Um, Jungkook”

The boy turns,

“What are those blue marks?”

He twists his body in front of the mirror, looking at the marks with the same amount of confusion as you.

“I have no clue.”

Was it an allergic reaction? Have your “eat up” commands been making him eat food he’s allergic to?

“Do you have any allergies?”

“I’m not sure…no one’s ever told me…but I feel fine.”

“Nothing hurts? No nausea, hives, itchy nose?”

He shakes his head.

“I’ll come home early tomorrow and schedule a visit with a hybrid doctor in the evening.”

The color in his face visibly drains.

“I’m a-alright. Really.”

No doctor please. Last thing I need is another person in a white coat messing with my body again.

Your tone softens, “Relax, the most it’ll be is an allergy test. No one’s going to hurt you.”

Jungkook’s back to shaking as much as he did on his first day.

____

A/N: Thank you for reading! Let me know if you're liking it so far!

Taglist: @welcometomyworld13 @kalala22

*If Tumblr doesn't let me tag you for some reason, I'll send you a DM instead!

#bts hybrid au #bts hybrid x reader #poly ot7 #ot7 x reader #hurt/comfort #bts smut #bts angst #bts fluff #unnatural instincts

1K notes · View notes

eideticmemory · 6 months

Text

ALONE TOGETHER | SPENCER REID

A chance meeting on a dating app spirals into an odd type of…friendship? Relationship? Who knows, but it means a lot to you.

Word Count: 8.6k

Warning/Includes: Excessive smut, fluff, 7 year age gap.

You are so sick of crying. You are nauseated from lying in bed, staring at a ceiling fan that does nothing but spin. You’re angry. You’re restless. You’re impulsive. And it is this impulse that takes you on Bumble, but more specifically, makes you set you preferred range between the ages of exactly twenty-eight and forty. You think, I just need someone to pay attention to me. You think, I need someone to make this go away because I just can’t.

Old men are gross, but they like you. They just can’t get enough of you. You’re flooded with hundreds of admirers, but you rarely match with any of them. You swipe. You swipe again. Again and again and it is with the teeniest, tiniest little bit of hope that you wish for someone to take your breath away. You wish for a man with a pretty face and kind eyes and a name that sounds nice when you say it with a moan.

And there he is.

Spencer. Age 30. 5 miles away.

You actually gasp.

You swipe right and it is a match!

You gasp!

It’s up to you to make the first move. There’s prompts you could send, questions you could ask, and just down the street, Spencer, who has just landed back home recieves a message only saying -

Hey :)

He immediately covers the notification on his phone as he exits the jet. When he swiped on your profile, truthfully, he didn’t expect a match. Let alone a message. So in less than three seconds, he becomes anxious and flustered and cannot stop shaking his hands because he can’t feel his fingertips.

He waits until he’s alone to message you back. He has no idea what to say, no idea if you’re even still interested, but down the street, you are lying on your belly and kicking your feet and you get a reply -

Hi, [y/n] :) How are you?

It’s not a lot but Spencer feels like he’s going to pass out.

You squeal, cover your mouth and type: Good! How are you?

And Spencer doesn’t even know how to answer the question. It’s not a hard question, it’s not a trick question, but he can’t figure out what to say so he stays objective.

I’m okay. I’m leaving work now.

You furrow your eyebrows, A little late, isn’t it?

He chuckles under his breath, Kind of early for me, actually.

Here, is where you decided to get bold. You make the decision before you even figure out what to say. How to say it.

I’m sure you’re worn out from a long day. Was hoping I could see you tonight. If not, maybe another time?

And aside from the millions of things that rush through his head, that are always rushing through his head, the first thing he thinks is: Oh, god, I wish Morgan were here. Although Spencer’s a little mad at him at the moment, he knows Morgan would tell him what to say. But no one’s here. It’s just him, pacing the empty halls of the bureau, a satchel with tums in it, and a pretty girl trapped inside his phone that wants to see him in person.

He types and he goes back, he types and he goes back, and then he asks, Do you like coffee?

You smile as you type, I love coffee.

So he has you meet him at this coffee shop in town. You stand outside, cradled in a cozy jacket, your hands stuffed in your pockets. Spencer sees you before you see him. And anyone with common sense would’ve walked up to you right away. Except, Spencer doesn’t really have common sense. He’s worried that you’ll figure that out. Still, he walks over to you and you’re only alerted by the sound of his timid footsteps. You turn to him with a grand smile and he immediately forgets how to breathe.

“Hi,” you greet him, holding your hand out. “Spencer?”

He looks down at your hand and then back at you and then back at the floor and your brain goes: ???

“Are you…not Spencer?”

“No, no, I am. Me…Spencer, yes. I just…I don’t like to shake hands.”

“Oh,” you retract, hold your hands behind your back.

“I mean not that there’s anything wrong about your particular hands. They’re just dirty- Not! Not-you’re not dirty, I know, you smell really good. I…” he stops, takes a breath, “The number of pathogens passed during a handshake is staggering, it’s actually, uh, safer to kiss.”

You tilt your head at him for two reasons. One, because you cannot believe he just used the word pathogens in casual conversation. And two, because you take his fun fact as a challenge that is readily accepted. You step towards him, slowly, because with the way his eyes go wide, it looks like he might run away. He grips onto the strap on his satchel so hard that his knuckles turn paper white. He goes cross eyed trying to look at your face as you lean in. And with a tiny smirk on your face, you press your lips to his.

It’s kinda, awkward. Spencer stays frozen in place and you mush your face into his and he doesn’t start to lean into you until the last second.

His face has gone bright red and you smile and say, “Nice to meet you.”

“Nice t-to meet you,” he stutters.

You look around, “What is this place?”

“Oh, um, it’s, uh, it’s a coffee shop. It’s also a library. It’s, uh, it’s open late and I come here a lot when I can’t sleep.”

“It’s cute,” you smile.

He holds the door open for you and buys you a latte and you two sit at a table by the window. You sit in silence for a minute, neither of you really sure what to say and then when you do go to speak, you do it at the same time. It cuts the tension and you both laugh.

“You go first,” you tell him.

“I, uh, I was just going to ask if you’re from here?”

“Oh, oh no, I just moved here for med school. I’m in my first year at Georgetown.”

“Oh! Nice. That’s cool.”

“Yeah, it’s alright so far. We’ll see how I’m doing in the spring.”

“I’m sure you’ll do great.”

You smile, “What do you do? What has you getting off work so late?”

“I’m, um, I’m a profiler…for the FBI. I, uh…”

“Analyze criminal behavior,” you nod. “Yeah, yeah, I’ve heard of that. I love forensic sciences.”

He can’t help but smile at you, “Yeah. It’s tiring but I like it,” he shrugs.

The conversation goes dead again and you sip on your latte, “Should we…should we just keep asking each other questions?”

“I guess so.”

“Okay, I asked the last question so it’s your turn.”

“Um…” he ponders. “What’s your favorite color?”

You snicker and he instantly puts his face in his hands out of embarrassment. You giggle, “My favorite color? Seriously?”

“I couldn’t think of anything else,” he shakes his head, smiling, “I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay. Blue. You?”

“Purple.”

“Ooh, that’s a fun one.”

“I like it. Okay, your turn.”

“Okay, um, what’s your biggest fear?”

He raises his eyebrows at you.

“What? We got the favorite colors out of the way.”

He nods, agreeing, “Having nothing to show for my life.”

You nod, “Same. Your turn.”

“Why do you want to be a doctor?”

“Oh. You got me with that one. Um…because I’m not squeamish and I’m good under pressure and I want…to make a difference. Y’know, actually do something with all this ambition. Aaaand, I’m good with anatomy. I’m good with people. I like medicine.”

“Did you say all of that in your interview?”

“That’s two questions…” you grin.

He chuckles, “You can ask me two.”

“No…I told them what they wanted to hear. And admissions doesn’t wanna hear that you’re doing this for yourself. They wanna hear that you’re selfless, Mother Theresa, Princess Diana selfless.”

“And you’re not selfless?”

“That’s three!”

“Okay, okay, your turn,” he laughs.

“How’d you get into the FBI?”

“Um, about 8 years, 11 months and 3 days ago, I attended a lecture on criminology hosted by some members of the BAU. I…became fixated. I wanted to join. I wanted to make a difference-“

“Oh now you’re just copying me.”

He chuckles, “I applied and, uh, yeah.”

“That’s so cool,” you tell him. “So you’ve been working there since you were…22?”

“Yes.”

“How did you become a profiler at 22? It takes forever, I thought?”

“That’s three!” he laughs.

“Oh, c’mon! You can’t leave me on a cliffhanger here.”

“I, um, I graduated college when I was 16. Had my Phd at 20. I’m…not the fittest guy so I skipped a lot of physical assessments.”

“16?” you gasp.

“That’s four!”

“20?” you shout. Emphasis on the ???

“That’s five!”

“Oh, no, nuh-uh, forget that, you’re filling me in on this.”

And so, he does. He tells you everything. About the eidetic memory and the IQ of 187 and you just sit there in awe. You fire questions at him and the last one is, “What’s…” you type in your calculator. “34 times 106?”

“That is a different genre of question.”

“But what’s the answer?”

He sighs and shakes his head, “3,604.”

You look at the calculator and he’s right and you gasp, “You’re a fucking genius.”

“That’s what I’ve been told.”

“Are your parents geniuses?” you ask.

“My dad is a…” he pauses. “I guess the colloquial term is deadbeat?”

You burst into laughter but quickly cover your mouth. That’s not funny. But Spencer is smiling.

“And…my mom is…smart. Yeah, she’s a genius.”

“Is she…dead?”

“What?”

“You just got, like, super sad there.”

“She’s not dead. She, uh, she has schizophrenia.”

“Oh. I’m an asshole.”

“A little bit,” he chuckles. “But, I’m-I’m not sad…she’s been that way my whole life.”

You can see on his face that it’s a sore subject, so you say, “Okay. Your turn. Ask me a question.”

And he wants to ask something that will get you talking. Something he can poke around like you have at his brain.

“Who is…” he starts. “Your very best friend?”

He asks this as you’re taking a sip of your latte and you very suddenly slam your cup down on the table.

“Whoa,” he says.

“Sorry.”

“No, no, I’m…I-I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to…”

“I haven’t spoken to her since I moved. Any of them. I…we…we had a disagreement.”

Spencer studies your face, “How many friends are we talking about here?”

“Three,” you spit out. “Three. I’ve had the same three friends since I was twelve and I’m not talking to any of them.” Your hands shake around your mug and you clear your throat, avoid eye contact.

Spencer feels so bad for dulling your light that he doesn’t even know what to say. He knows it’s an illogical guilt, but a strong and pulsating guilt nonetheless.

He watches you take an anxious sip of your drink and he sighs, “Today’s my birthday.”

You almost spit out your latte, your hand flying to your mouth, all of your own thoughts and worries dissipating as you look him in the eye, “You’re…you’re kidding?”

“No.”

“You’re joking. You’re just saying that to distract me. A psychology trick.”

“As of…” he checks his watch. “Twenty-three hours and ten minutes ago, I’m thirty,” he can hardly say it. “Thirty years old.”

You sit for a moment. You realize your mouth is wide open so you close it. You realize your eyes are wide so you shrink them. You stutter, “You’re…not kidding?”

“No. I’m thirty, and I…worked a case for days straight and…and it was awful and we were too late and…I’m scared I’ll sound self-centered…”

“And…” you encourage him.

“And…it wasn’t enough. The case. The chaos. It wasn’t enough. I hoped…I hoped it would help. That I would…that I would get so lost in the rush that…that I’d forget I’m having an emotional crisis. I don’t know how to be thirty. I don’t know how to be an adult. I’m a child progidy…I’m a child prodigy and now I’m thirty so, what does that make me? What am I now?”

The question hangs in the air because you cannot answer it. You just reach across the table, put your hand over his, and trace his knuckles.

He releases a long sigh, “I’m having an emotional crisis and I’m thirty and my-my team…my friends…my family, the closest thing I have to a family…they, um, they forgot. And it was…it was a really bad case, it was a really tough case and it was enough for them to forget. But not me. It wasn’t enough for me.”

He lets you take his hand in yours, your pathogen ridden hand, and he can hardly look you in the eye.

“Hey…” you whisper.

His eyes flicker up to you and he looks so sad.

You give him a small grin, “Let’s get out of here.”

He lets you drag him outside into the cold air and the two of you stand under the soft light.

“Do you drink?” you ask him.

“Um. No. No, I used to do drugs so I’m scared if I drink, I’ll forget to…not do drugs.”

“Oh!” you raise your eyebrows. “Okay, fair enough. So, no weed then?”

“I…” he laughs. “You do know I’m a federal agent?”

“Ah! So scary!”

He cackles, “No marijuana.”

“Marijuana,” you roll your eyes, “Okay…okay…” you look around and the city is asleep. It’s cold. Another block over, there are clubs and people fighting the weather for a chance to party. Spencer does not want to party. “Okay, my place?”

He looks at you, “What are we going to do there?”

“Have a birthday party!”

“I don’t want a party…”

You pout, look around, “Do you want a donut?”

He nods.

You grab a couple donuts from a late night bakery down the road and you drive him back to your place. He grips onto the door as you whip your car into another lane, his breath trembling.

“Dude, chill out,” you tell him. “I’m a good driver.”

“Good…in the way that tsunamis are good waves.”

You look over at him and your eyes lock and he smirks at you. It has you so flustered that you’re quiet for the rest of the drive.

You let him inside your apartment and close the door as you two step into the entryway.

“Okay, wait here,” you tell him, quickly taking the donuts and taking off into the kitchen.

“What? Why?”

“Just wait!”

He can hear you banging around, drawers opening and slamming shut. Things falling to the floor. You muttering, “Shit!” under your breath. You rush by him and into the living, so quickly that his brain can hardly process it.

“Okay!” you call. “Come in!”

He slowly steps inside, a bit anxious at first, but then he sees you and his shoulders relax.

You finish lighting the last candle and look up at him, throw your hands in the air, “Happy birthday!”

His face breaks out in this great, big smile and he can’t help but laugh. It’s not much. One single glazed donut with chocolate, sprinkles and candles on top.

“Three candles?” he questions, stepping over to the coffee table.

You stand beside him as he sits on the couch, “Well, yeah, three because three and then none because zero. Three zero. Thirty!”

He furrows his brows, “Actually-“

“Hush,” you cut him off, putting your hands on his shoulders, “You gotta blow out your candles.”

So he goes to blow them out and you shout, “Wait!” and his heart stops for a second. “I have to sing the song?”

“Oh, no, really, I don’t need the-“

“Haaaaappy birthday to you, happy birthday to you…”

He covers his face to blush and laughs into his hands.

“Happy birthday, dear Spencer, happy birthday to you! Mwah,” you kiss his cheek. “Now make a wish!”

“Okay, I wish-“

“Whoa, stop! What are you doing? You can’t say it out loud, it won’t come true.”

“Well, actually-“

“The candles are melting.”

“Yep, right,” he nods. He takes a deep breath, closes his eyes, makes a wish and blows out all three candles.

You cheer and clap your hands. You go to remove the candles from his donut and stop, “Oh. Should I? Can I?”

“You’ve already touched it. I think, uh, that ship has sailed.”

You take out the candles and sit down beside him, “Should I have picked it up with my mouth?”

He giggles and picks up his donut, holds it out to you, “Cheers,” he smiles.

You pick yours up from the table and touch it to his, grinning, “Cheers.”

As you eat your donuts together, you can’t help but watch him. “I hope this made your birthday a little better.”

He shoves the last of his donut in his mouth and the corner of his lips is covered in chocolate, “It did,” he says with a full mouth.

You chuckle and lean in, wiping the chocolate from his lip with your finger and sticking it in your mouth.

He watches you, chewing slowly until he swallows and clears his throat, “Is this…is this weird to do with someone you just met on bumble? Genuine question because I have no frame of reference.”

Your mouth turns up in a small smile. And you nod. Slowly, quietly, “Yeah. Yeah, it’s a little weird. But I’m having fun.”

“Me, too.”

You look around, awkwardly rolling your next words around your head until you can say them out loud, “Do you…wanna do something that’s…not weird with someone you met on bumble?

His raises his eyebrows at you, “What’s that?”

You take a sip of water, eyeing him in your peripheral and set down your bottle. You lean your body into his and this time, Spencer is ready. You catch his mouth on yours and he kisses you back, even though his heart is racing under your palm. Your hand travels down his chest, over his tummy, and to the hem of his pants.

His breath catches in his throat as you kiss his neck, “What…what are you doing?”

You pull away and undo his pants, taking his cock in your hand. He whimpers and his body goes limp and you furrow your eyebrows at him, “It’s your birthday?” you explain. And then you kiss him again.

His neck. Down to his chest. Down to his tummy. And Spencer watches you drop down to your knees in front of him and he goes, “Oh, my god,” and he only says it once but his brain keeps going: oh, my god, oh, my god, oh, my god, oh, my god, oh, my god.

“Is…is this okay?” you ask.

But he can’t talk! He can hardly breathe! You’ve got his dick in your hand and he’s looking at you with these wide eyes and you look perfect and he’s just worried that he’ll bust all over you before you get a chance to do anything. So, he nods. He nods and nods and nods and leans his head back.

You smile and with a few pumps of your hand, his whole body tenses up. He grips onto the couch and struggles to breathe. Then your mouth is on him and he goes limp. Dead weight, not a feeling in his arms or legs or chest, just the warmth of your mouth around his cock, taking it all the way to the back of your throat. His nails scratch at the fabric of the couch and as undignified as it feels, Spencer gets noisey.

You bob your head, up and down, in slow and sticky motions, swirling your tongue over his tip and a loud moan burst from the back of his throat.

“Oh…oh, my god,” he pants.

You move your mouth on him and run your hand up his tummy, feel it heaving up and down in your palm. He nearly breaks a nail on the couch so he grabs onto your hand, squeezes it really tight and groans. The sounds he’s making are so whiny and breathless and sexy that you have to squeeze your thighs together before you go leaking down your legs.

His other hand takes hold of your face, caressing your cheekbone with his thumb. You lean into his palm a bit but you keep your pace, letting him hit the back of your throat, feeling him twitch between your lips. You look up at him and all you can see is the veins on his neck, his jaw clenched tight. His fingers slip through your hair, over your scalp and you hum, but just quietly.

The soft touch encourages you to speed up just a bit. His whole body trembles as you take the base of his cock in your hand and jerk him in unison with your mouth. It overstimulates him immediately and he yells out, gives your hand another tight, tight squeeze.

“Oh-oh, my god, [y/n],” he moans, and you squeeze your thighs tighter.

He doesn’t ever want this to end. And so he fights the fire burning in his belly with everything he’s got, but he knows it’s useless. You’re too good. You’re so good.

He lifts his head and looks down at you, his face red all over and his eyes locked on yours. He holds your hand against his chest, caresses your face softly and lets out these soft, desperate whimpers. His body tenses up, leans towards you a bit and his jaw hangs wide open with very little sound coming out. He gives you this look, maybe a little warning, and then he’s gripping onto your hair and hunched over your body, filling up your mouth and whining into the air.

You put your hands on his waist and keep him in your mouth until he rides it out, falls back onto the couch.

You tower over him, wipe your mouth with the back of your hand and put your hands on his shoulders, “Good?”

“Yes. Wow,” he pants. “Thank you.”

“You’re so welcome,” you smile.

He huffs and he puffs, yet he can’t seem to catch his breath. “You know…” he breathes out. “That entire time…I actually forgot I was thirty.”

You burst into laughter and put your forehead to his, your giggles mirroring one another’s.

Spencer fixes his pants and huffs, “Will you…will you lay with me for a second?”

Your heart melts a little. You climb onto the couch, taking a seat beside him and swinging your legs over his lap.

And you sit like that. For hours. Talking until it’s no longer Spencer’s birthday and he’s just…thirty. You try your best to convince him to stay the night. He declines. And he declines and he declines.

Then he falls asleep in your arms.

In the morning, he wakes up alone and for a one whole minute, he forgets where he is. Then he remembers you and he goes looking for you and finds you in the kitchen.

“Oh,” you smile, “Hi, you. Breakfast?” you hold out the box of cereal that you’re eating out of.

He glances at the box and then back at you and he stares.

“What?” you ask.

“I…” he trails off. “I thought…I thought I dreamt you. For a moment, I thought it all was a dream.”

You tilt your head at him, “I’m very real.”

He chuckles, scratches the back of his head, “And…and the…the…”

“Blowjob?” you laugh. “Yeah, that was real, too.”

“The donuts?”

“Yes,” you laugh. “All of it.”

He continues to stare at you, this soft smile on his face and you hold out the cereal again. Shake it around.

“I’m okay,” he chuckles, stepping over to you. “I should…I should probably get going.”

“Oh, but why?” you whine.

“Because I…need a shower,” he laughs. “And to brush my teeth and lay in bed until I get called in again.”

“Yeah, I should probably start preparing for my lectures this week, too.”

You stare into his pretty, pretty eyes and you set the cereal down, hold his face, “You’re not gonna ghost me are you?”

He furrows his eyebrows, “Ghost you? What does that mean?”

“Oh, I forgot you’re old,” you laugh.

“Stooop,” he whines. “Stooop.”

“Ghost me. You’re not gonna go radio silent? You’re not…not gonna act like this never happened? Like I don’t exist?”

And Spencer instantly thinks: I don’t think I’m ever going to leave you alone. But instead of vocalizing it, he strokes your waist and he says, “No. Of course not.”

And he really meant that.

The next time he got called out on a case, he let you know that he’d be gone for a while but he’d be back. And he’d really, really like to see you when he’s home. He tries his best not to text while working, but when he’s laying in a hotel bed, unable to stop thinking about you and what you’re doing, he opts for a phone call.

“Hey, Sherlock,” you greet him. “Crack the case yet?”

He chuckles, “No. Almost. I wouldn’t be surprised if we were home in a few days.”

“And then you’ll come see me?”

“Yes,” he nods. “I’ll come see you.”

“Good.”

“What about you? How’s your journey to being a selfless doctor going?”

“Terrible. I missed like half of my lecture this morning because I blew a tire on the way.”

“Oh, no, are you okay?”

“Yeah, I’m fine, just hit a pot hole and swerve a little bit but it’s not my first time.”

“Oh?” he nods. “That’s…not good,” he laughs.

“I survived. I’m tough.”

“Yeah, you are, aren’t you?” you can hear the little grin in his voice.

You bite down on your lip, “Okay, tell me what’s going on there. Serial killer? Kidnapping?”

“Confidential.”

“Booooo!”

“Okay, okay,” he laughs. “Um, a couple days ago a body washed up on the beach and…”

You talked until you both were nearly asleep. In the morning, Spencer rolls out of bed and the lack of sleep hits him like a truck, but he thinks about you and your sleepy, soft voice and he smiles. He smiles out the door and down the hall and Morgan strides up beside him.

“Morning, kid,” he says.

“Morning!” Spencer replies and Derek eyes him because it was just sooo cheerful.

Derek bites his tongue for a moment, but is incapable of doing it for any longer so he asks, “Who were you on the phone with last night?”

Spencer trips over his feet at the question and stutters, “O-oh, me? Me? I wasn’t talking to anyone.”

“Mmhmmm,” Derek hums.

“No. N-nope, just the voices in my head.”

“You’re a terrible liar.”

Spencer comes back home on a Thursday and immediately hops on foot, on a train, to get to your apartment. You open the door for him and pull him inside, taking him in a big hug.

“Hi, you,” you whisper in his ear.

“Hi,” he snuggles into you.

“I made dinner. Pasta. It’s the only thing I know how to make, but there’s plenty. You hungry?”

“Yes,” he nods, pulls out of the hug. “Thank you.”

He goes to walk into the kitchen, but you grab his hand, “Hey, wait,” and you throw yourself into his arms and take him in a long kiss. He grips onto your shirt and goes weak in the knees, smushing his face into yours.

You step back, “Okay, now we can eat.”

He mumbles something incoherent and walks into the wall and you laugh, putting your hands on his shoulders to guide him into the kitchen.

The entire time that you two are hanging out on the couch, his arm around your shoulders, you can feel him looking at you. The one time that you catch his eyes, you lean in for a kiss and he is much more forward when it comes to kissing you back. He pushes his body into yours and a soft moan empties from your lips. It gives him enough courage to drop to his knees in front of you.

“Whoa,” you exclaim. “What are you doing?”

“I…well, I…I wanted to do this for you and I’m ready, I researched it.”

“You…researched how to eat me out?”

“I just want to return the favor.”

“But it’s not my birthday?”

“Is that a…requirement, or?”

“No,” you laugh, cover your face, “Okay. Okay, show me what you learned.”

And so Spencer disappears under the hem of your shirt, pushing it up your thighs and grabbing onto the thin straps of your underwear. He pulls them off your legs and you chuckle as they fly off. His face flushes bright red and he gives you a soft smile, taking a deep breath before he leans in and kisses your thighs. You hum under your breath, spread your legs for him out of instinct.

He’s very timid at first. Peppering gentle kisses on your hips, teasing his tongue on your clit. Then your back arches, his face falls into you and all the notes and research just fall right out of his mind. He wraps his arms around your hips and moves his tongue in this rhythmic up and down motion that he can tell you love so he keeps at it. And at it and at it, stepping off with a sharp suck that makes you yelp.

You rest your head on the couch, licking your lips because they’re so dry from your gasping, your constant moaning. You grip onto his hair and moan his name, only twice because you’re losing your breath. His fingertips press into your skin, spread your pussy open so he can bury his face in you.

Your body starts to twitch and tremble, your toes curling into themselves so tightly that it cuts off circulation. Your voice is high and whiny, growing louder by the second. Spencer feels your thighs tighten around his face and he knows now is not the time to let up. He swirls his tongue over your clit and you tighten your grip on his hair, straining your throat from moaning so loudly. You try to say his name, one last time, but then your back is arching off the couch and your orgasm washes over your entire body. From the tip of your head to the tip of your toes.

Spencer wipes his mouth off with your inner thigh and stands up looking so, very proud.

“Fuck,” you laugh. “What did you read?”

He cackles and gives you a wet kiss on the cheek and then the lips. Immediately after, you push him down and suck him off and as he holds you afterwards, he breathes off, “Remind me to return the favor again.”

“Oh,” you giggle. “Believe me, I will.”

The next few days, you two are inseperable. He spends two consecutive nights at your place, bitching and complaining and listening to each rant for hours at a time. He helps your study for your next exam. It’s not until he gets called out again that real life creeps in. It’s the first time goodbye is really hard.

You joke over the next month that he should just move in. This constant pattern of fly out, fly in, visit and repeat is a lot of run around.

“You’d get sick of me,” he replies.

And you hold him real tight and shake your head, “Never.”

When he’s on his next trip and calls in the middle of your lecture, you only step out and answer because a feeling in your gut tells you something is very wrong. Spencer never calls in the middle of the day. He’d never want to inconvenience you. But, today, it has to be you.

“Hello?” you answer.

“[y/n]? Hey…” he huffs.

He sounds distraught, like his chest is tight as he speaks and you take a seat on the floor, “What is it? What’s wrong?”

“I’m…I think I’m having a panic attack. I think…I think I’m dying.”

“What? What happened? Honey…”

“Just tell me something to calm me down, anything. Anything. Please.”

“Um, um, um, uh,” you sutter. “I think we should have sex.” As you say it, someone walks by giving you a dirty look and you shake it off, wait for Spencer’s response.

His breath has slowed, but just a little, “Oh…that works.”

“Yeah,” you clear your throat. “You know, I’ve just been thinking about it. A lot, aaand yeah, when you get back, I-I think we should do that.”

“Okay.”

“Okay,” you whisper. “Do you wanna tell me what happened?”

“When I see you,” he says. “I know you’re busy and I should get back.”

“You sure?”

“Yes. Thank you.”

“Glad I could help,” you laugh. “Call me back tonight, okay?”

“I will. I miss you.”

You smile to yourself, “I miss you, too.”

When you hang up, you’re happy and giddy, grinning to yourself like a fool. Then you look up to find the same person from before, whispering with their friend as they watch you.

You roll your eyes and shout, “What the fuck are you looking at?” and you walk back into the lecture hall.

The day Spencer tells you they’re flying back, you start preparing. Shaving, showering, spraying on some nice perfume. You walk around your apartment in a silky, short nightgown, lighting candles in the hall and all over your bedroom. When you’re content with the atmosphere, the only thing left to do is wait.

And wait.

You check your phone several times and when there is still nothing hours later, you think it’s time to blow out the candles, lay in bed and cry. For a moment, you feel so stupid and confused and angry that you almost throw a lamp at the wall. Then there’s a knock on the door.

Spencer stands there, immediately saying, “Don’t be mad.”

“Too late, I’m mad,” you snip, turning away from him.

He lets himself in and grabs your hand, stutters when he finally notices your nightgown, the candles, “Oh. Wow. You did all this?”

“Spencer!” you whine, crossing your arms.

“I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. I…I bought you a donut,” he holds the bag up to you. “Your favorite. I’m so sorry, please don’t be mad. Not tonight. Any other night but tonight, please?”

Maybe if he wasn’t so good at the kicked puppy eyes, you could’ve held out a little longer. But you’re happy he’s here and your horny and this is happening no matter what time it is. You snatch the bag from his hand and just as quickly as you drop it, you pull his body into your, gripping his waist, your mouth open on his.

He trips over your feet as you pull him down the hall and into your bedroom, the two of you tangled up so tight that you collapse on the bed in one big sweep. He falls on top of you, between your legs, kissing you hungrily.

“Wait,” he huffs, breaking the kiss. “Wait.”

You stare up at him, his face only visible due to the candles, “What is it? Did you…already?”

“What? What? No,” he laughs. “I just…uh…um…I’m not an expert at this. I…I don’t…I’m not experienced in this area and I will do everything I can to make it good for you. I just don’t want to disappoint you.”

“Aw,” you whisper, caressing his face. “Take your clothes off.”

“Huh?”

“Spencer. I’ve been thinking about having sex with you since I first saw your picture on bumble. Now it’s happening and you were late so we gotta catch up.”

You pull him back in for a kiss and reach between your bodies, undoing his pants so you can grab his cock. He gasps and moans into your mouth.

“Don’t overthink it,” you mumble, staring in his eyes, “Just do whatever you want to me.”

He moves his hips forward, stroking himself with your palm and whimpering against your cheek. He starts to kiss your neck, gripping onto your waist, bunching up your nightgown in his hands. You push his shirt up his waist and he quickly pulls it over his head, catching you in a kiss as soon as he can.

“Can I take this off?” he pants, pinching the hem of your clothes. And you sit up, allowing him to pull it right over your head.

His eyes rake down your body, lingering on your breasts, “Can I…?”

“Oh, god, yes, please,” you nod and lay back on the bed, holding your hands above your head.

Spencer chuckles and leans down, taking your nipple into his mouth ever so gently, swirling his tongue around the hard bud. You purr, grab a fistful of his hair, and lick your lips. He presses his body weight onto you, holding your other breast in his hand and sucking on your skin.

“F-fuck,” you moan. “Spencer…”

And he moves to the other side of your chest, now more confident, now unstoppable, flicking his tongue on you so fast that it makes your body twitch. He kisses down your tummy, looks up at you as he slides your panties off, kisses on your thighs. He knows how to do this. He’s good at this, per your review and when he puts his mouth on you, the most broken, whiny little noise falls from your lips.

He hums between your thighs, holding your hips tight and flush against his face. With your moans rattling around his skull, he loses all inhibition. He works his tongue on you slow, methodical, in all the right places. You give his hair a soft tug and he grunts, his hand trailing up your waist. You brace your hands on his biceps, squeezing them between your fingers, sighing out his name.

You hook your legs over his shoulders, tightening your thighs around his face, moving your hips up and down to feel his tongue gliding. Wet and sticky like he’s drowning inside of you.

“Oh, god,” you moan. “Yes, Spencer, yes, yes.”

He moans under his breath, quickening his tongue, clamping his hands down on your thighs. You pull at his hair as your back arches off the bed and your legs tremble around his head. He gives your clit a sharp suck and you cry out, gripping onto his hair at the scalp. And when your voice gets so high and whiny that it could break glass, he knows you’re close and he spreads your pussy open, works his tongue on your clit and doesn’t stop.

Your body tenses up and you hold him tight, tight, tight, crying out his name, your breath catching in your throat. And when you come, you collapse with a long and drawn out groan, shoving your fingers in your mouth to catch your breath.

You instantly reach over to the nightstand and grab the condom that’s been waiting all night to be used. Spencer brings his face back to yours and you kiss him instantly, grinning when you feel him pushing his pants down his legs. He lets you roll the condom onto his hard, leaky cock and asks, “Do-do you wanna be on top?”

“No,” you shake your head, wrap your arms tight around his waist. “Stay on top of me,” you say against his lips, “I like it.”

“Okay,” he nods into a kiss with you and settles between your legs. You help him align, you kiss his neck and hold him close as he pushes his cock into you. The both of you gasp, your noses smushed together. “God…” Spencer moans. “You okay?”

You nod, “Mhm. Are you?”

“Mm…” he hums. “Trying not to explode.”

You two chuckle, catching each other in yet another hungry kiss as Spencer starts to move in and out of you slowly. His breathing in low and jagged, hot against your face. He’s so gentle with you, pushing into you with little pressure and caressing your face.

“H-harder…” you pant. “You’re not gonna break me, I promise.”

So he plunges into you a bit harder, a bit deeper and you gasp, “Harder.”

He obeys and angles himself above you, watching your face as he pushes into you with the right amount of force. You moan, your eyes rolling back and your head along with it, “Oh, fuck, yes. Like that.”

“Yeah?” he repeats the movement, his moan blending in with yours.

“Yes,” you nod. “Yes. Yes. Just,” you reach down and start rubbing your clit. “Fuck, keep going.”

And he does. He focuses on keeping his rhythm, slow, but intense, the bed squeaking everytime he moves his hips into yours. You gasp against his lips, wrap your arm around his waist, your hooded eyes focused on his. He runs his hand over your hair, whimpering to you, melting into you, and taking short breaks to keep himself from finishing too soon.

Your fingers get cramped and soaked from the incessant rubbing on your clit but it’s like you can’t stop. Spencer leans in to kiss your neck, his hand absentmindedly running up your ribs and gripping your breast. You hold onto his hair and groan into his ear, his low and breathy moans vibrating against your skin.

“F-fuck!” you cry out as he slams into you. “I’m gonna come, don’t stop. Fuck, please don’t stop.”

But he does, only for a moment because the dirty combination of your voice and your hand tugging his hair and your pussy tightening around him, he’s dangerously close to bringing this entire thing to a premature end. So, he pauses. He takes a breath and he pounds into you. Even slower, over and over and over, watching your face closely, watching you fall apart.

“Oh,” you whine, your fingers quickening on your clit. “God, Spencer,” you moan and then body trembles, tensing up underneath him as you come so hard that you lose your voice. He grunts, falling into a sloppy kiss with you and following right behind you, his body suddenly going weak as he comes, his entire weight placed upon you.

Spencer collapses beside you and instantly pulls you into his chest, squeezing you in his arms and peppering your forehead with kisses. “How was that?” he asks, looking down at you. “Was that good for you?”

You touch your fingertip to his chin and smile, nodding, “Oh, yes.”

“Good,” he hugs you. “Good, good, good. For me, too.”

You smile into a long kiss with him and giggle against his lips. Lying there, your breathing falls in sync and you trace the center of his tummy, sink into the bliss.

“They, uh…” Spencer starts. “They remembered my birthday today. That’s why I was late, they threw me a party.”

You glance up at him, but only for a moment and then you put your head back on his chest. “Oh.”

“It was nice,” he shrugs. “It was fun, but the whole time, I just…thought about you. I thought about how angry I was that they’d forgotten at all and how…how you just made everything so much better,” and he tilts your head up to say this next part directly to you, “You always make everything so much better.”

And as you stare into his eyes, the corners of your mouth turned up ever so sightly, your eyes start to water and your lip starts to quiver.

“Oh,” he softens. “Oh, no. Nooo. Are you crying?”

“No,” you shake your head. Then you put your face in your hands and nod, suddenly sobbing.

“Oh, no, no, [y/n], no, I’m sorry. Did I say something?”

You shake your head.

“What is it? What-what just happened?”

“I-I-I-“ you stutter. Lifting your head from your hands, you cry, “I-I just wish I could tell my friends about you.”

He frowns and takes you into a tight hug, rubbing your back and kissing the top of your head, “I’m so sorry,” he whispers to you. “Oh, [y/n], I’m so sorry.”

And because he’s never really seen you cry before, his only thought is to ask, “Do you-do you want me to go down on you again?”

You look up at him, your lip poked out in a dramatic pout and you nod.

“Okay,” he says, climbing on top of you and wiping the tears from your face. “I can do that for you.”

It works. It leads to more sex. The two of you don’t go to bed until the sun has nearly risen and don’t get up until well in the afternoon. Spencer thinks you’re using his dick as a distraction and you fear there’s no respectful way to say: I just can’t get enough. He gives you a few days and nights worth of it and still, it’s not enough.

He’s actively trying to get inside of you when he gets called into work. He’s on top of you, between your legs, pushing his tongue into your mouth when his phone goes off. He pulls away to check it and you whine, “Nooo, noooo, don’t goooo.”

“I have to. People are dying,” and as he speaks, you kiss his neck, touch your tongue to his jaw and he moans, “Oh, god,” before he can stop himself. “[y/n]….”

“Just-stay. Stay. They can save one day without you, can’t they?”

“Actually, I don’t think they can.”

“Ugh. You and your big, useful brain. I’m sick of it.”

“I’ll be back,” he gives you a kiss.

“Nooo, stay,” you hold him tight so he can’t move and he busts out laughing.

“I have to go, I’m sorry.”

So he showers and gets dressed and you sit on the bed pouting the entire time. He comes out of the bathroom and frowns, matching your pissy and childish expression.

“I will be back,” he tells you as he takes a seat on the bed. “I always come back.”

“I know, I know, I’m just being dramatic. Let me be dramatic.”

“Okay,” he chuckles and gives you a kiss. Nuzzling his nose against yours, he whispers, “You should call your friends.”

You instantly recoil and he puts his hands on your shoulders, “Okay, okay, I know. I know. But I think it’s time. You need them. They need you. You’re an easy girl to miss.”

You roll your eyes and he sighs, kisses your forehead and squeezes you in a hug. “Call them,” he says and then he leaves.

You sit there for a moment, ponder on his words. Ponder on the entirety of the past few days, past few months. You pick up your phone. You stare at it in your palm. You dial your friend’s number and though you don’t expect an answer, she picks up with a, “Hello?”

You take a deep breath, “Hey…”

When Spencer arrives at work, he finds himself heading up the elevator with Morgan who is so completely and totally normal that Spencer thinks he can smell the sex on him. He watches Derek from the corner of his eyes, fidgeting with the strap of his satchel and shuffling on his feet.

Suddenly, Derek smashes the emergency button on the elevator and brings it to a halt. Spencer falls back and grabs onto the wall.

“Why-why-why did you do that?” Spencer stutters, his pulse starting to rise. “Why did you do that? You remember what happened the last time you messed around with the elevator? Turn it back on.”

“Not until,” Derek says, turning to him. “You tell me whatever it is that you’re dying to tell me.”

“I’m…I’m not dying to tell you anything. I’m just scared of dying.”

“Pretty boy. I step in the elevator, you start sweating. I act like I don’t notice, you’re giving me the side eye up four floors. What’s up?”

Spencer closes his eyes and shakes his head. Then he stands up straight. Then he falls back again.

“Kid?”

“I’m…” Spencer starts. But he can’t finish. “I’m…” He thinks he doesn’t know what to say. Key word: thinks. But there’s only one sentence swirling around his brain and he has to say it, but he doesn’t want to say it and so he bites his tongue. He shakes his head and then looks up at Derek, “I’m having sex!”

And he says it with such a whiny voice that Derek can’t help but laugh. Visibily.

“I knew it,” Derek says. “You’re shaking in your converse to tell me that?”

“What? What do you mean you knew it?” The response sobers Spencer up a bit, his anxiety weakens just enough so he can figure out why Derek is laughing.

“Don’t think I haven’t noticed you walkin’ on in here everyday with a lil’ extra pep in ya step,” Derek chuckles. “You’re not that sneaky, kid. I knew there had to be someone.”

Spencer sighs, lets his shoulders relax. “It’s-it’s not that big of a deal. It’s just…sex…lots of sex. Lots of really, really good sex. I think. I think it’s good. It…feels good, seems good. I don’t have much to compare it to but, um…yeah…”

“My man,” Derek laughs and Spencer breaks a smile. “Who’s the lucky lady?”

Spencer smiles wider, “[y/n]. She’s gorgeous and smells good and makes me laugh and I…don’t feel weird around her she makes me feel so unbelievably not weird and y-yeah, she’s a little bit younger but I hardly ever notice.”

Derek puts the elevator back in motion, “How young are we talkin’ here?”

“Um, she’s twenty-two.”

Derek replies with nothing more than a whistle and Spencer rolls his eyes, “Stop.”

“I didn’t say anything.”

“You said plenty.”

The elevator dings and they step off, Derek swinging his arm over Spencer’s shoulder, “Don’t worry, pretty boy, we’ll get you back to your lady soon.”

And Spencer laughs it off but in his head, he’s thinking: yes, please.

It’s the first week out of town that Derek is suspicious every time Spencer checks his phone. When the case starts to get heavier and harder, Spencer missing a few of his nightly phone calls, you worry. You can’t help it. He texts you when he lands and it’s stupid how wide you smile.

Library? he texts.

Y: Literally on my way.

You approach each other at the front doors, and from far away, you can see the bags under his eyes and the hunch in his shoulders.

“Hey, you,” you cradle his face in your palm. “Tough week?”

He leans into your touch, nodding and closing his eyes to take a moment and reset. When he opens them to find your face, illuminated by the light, he wraps his arms around your waist and pulls you in for a kiss. You giggle against his lips and your leg lifts behind you, almost uncontrollably.

You smile at each other and Spencer asks, “Do you like coffee?”

You cackle, “I love coffee.”

He holds the door open for you, asking, “Hey, what do you think about meeting some friends of mine?”

You smile, turn to him, “I was just about to ask you the same thing.”

#mine #spencer reid #spencer reid imagine #spencer reidxreader #spencer reid smut #spencer reid fluff #Spotify

996 notes · View notes

goldsbitch · 13 hours

Note

can I request a Lando x reader where the reader’s weakness is when people stroke her hair? Her mind goes completely blank and she falls silent immediately when people stroke her hair and Lando uses it at his advantage.

Fluffy pls and ty🫶🏻

omg, i love this prompt so much - thank you and hope you like it!!

This is one is dripping with sweetness a little too much, don't say I did not warn you. No other warning.

Lando was born a tease, oscillating between clueless and shy, to unapologetic and bordeline dickish. It all depended on the setting, his relationship to the person and how much sleep he got the night before. Sometimes your boyfriend was the sweetest little thing, giggling shyly about everything instead of coming up with an actual response, and the other times he was a walking menace actively seeking every opportunity how to get you into a flustered state.

You and Lando were full on deep in the beginning of your relationship, the sweetest part of the honeymoon phase. To put it bluntly - fucking almost non stop. And the desire was never-ending. Blinding sunshine kissed good morning to every day you two got to wake up next to each other. Problems seem to be non existent. Bliss.

It was the way his hair curled when he got a little bit sweaty, his toned body what you were desperate to explore from every angle and the need to know every little secret trick that worked on him. It became some sort of a game, who would get better at knowing the other. Which one of you found all the buttons to push.

Lando rose up that morning and chose violence. Metaphorical one, of course. Snuggling up to you in order to wake you up as well for some morning work out, as he like to call it. Whispering sweet nothings to your ear and touching you all over your body. But you were just incredibly sore from the past few days, physically unable to keep up.

"Why don't you love me anymore," he pleaded jokingly as you murmured another weak appeal for your sleep.

"Lando, you know I love you more than anything," you replied, still half asleep. But it was hard to distinguish as reality resembled a sweet dream everyday lately.

"I remember when you used to want me, physically," he kept going.

"We literally had sex few hours ago, stop whining," you kissed him between your words. He looked at you with his incredible eyes, little devil dancing in each one of them.

"Exactly, too long ago. Wish I could go back in time when you were not sore and get inside you all over again."

You simply laughed, absolutely smitten with this lovey dovey side of him. His words made you melt like butter sitting under direct sun. You brushed your noses together and then he kissed you.

The best part of romantic relationships is the one that you cannot absolutely share with other people, the almost embarrassing pleas, desire and gross goofiness, simping at each other all the time.

"Fine, if you play by these rules, I'll come back with my own revenge," he said finally as you inevitably had to start getting ready to go to the paddock with him.

Today was the big day. You'd been spotted in public countless of times, the "girlfriend" title officially sitting on your head for weeks now. But this was the first time you were to join him in the paddock as a wag. You were trying to hide your nervousness, but he saw right through you. Before you exited the apartment, he made you stop and took your face in his hands. "I'm happy I get to do this with you. I love parading you around, for everyone to see that we're a team." You smiled, his words hitting like first snowflakes of the year. "Poor Oscar, I can't wait to finally trauma dump the shared misery you bring to our lives," you jokes and locked lips with him once again. "God, it's terrifying how much I like you," you said automatically, without having to think about it.

It actually wasn't as bad as you'd expected. It was definitely weird and strange, but not necessarily bad. Having Lando by your side as you passed the gates definitely helped. The photographers were lined up as people at a shooting range would and it did feel like that at first. But as quickly as you were initially overwhelmed, fatigue took over you and you blocked their ever-presence out. Trying to chat up those Lando introduce you to and memorizing the names. You knew how much some of these people meant to Lando, so you were trying to be at your best behavior. The thought that his friends would hate you in the same way as some of his fans haunted you.

In the middle of all the rush, you parted for a moment. To be honest, little peace of quiet and chill was something you appreciated. But remember, Lando woke up and chose violence this morning. And his plan was quite simple, yet bulletproof.

"Y/N! There you are, my love," you heard from coming from behind you. "I have someone to introduce to you! I'm very much sure you'll appreciate meeting him." As you turned, you saw Daniel Ricciardo walking your way with your Lando. You were a little perplexed as to why Lando was so cheerful about that. You clearly remembered him getting very upset when you admitted to him that at some point in the past, when formula 1 was a world far away from you, that you had a minor crush on Daniel. Which obviously went out of the window once you met Lando. That did not mean that Lando was 100% ok with it.

"Y/N, as I'm sure you know, this is Daniel, hell of a driver and good friend of mine," Lando continued and you knew him well enough to know he had ulterior motives. Not sure what to do, you smiles shyly and shook Daniel's hand.

"Hi, Daniel," you said, eyes flinching between him and Lando. You were full on preparing for anything. Lando's smirk almost had a life of his own at that point.

"Nice to finally meet you, Y/N. I've heard quite a lot things about you!" Daniel opened, life of the party as per usual.

You chuckled. "All good things, I hope!" And with that, Lando stepped behind you and put his arm around you.

"Only the best," he said, leaned closed and inconspicuously started to stroke you hair gently. Oh, he did not just go this low.

It was slow, yet like tidal wave. You stopped breathing for a moment. Your body relaxing, as if you'd just taken the world's best sedatives. The way his hands made you feel was etherial. It was the same sensation the luckier ones experienced when listening to ASMR and the less fortunate ones sometimes called an orgasm. Shivers slowly traveling around your whole body, every part becoming sensitive out of nowhere. You weren't able to look at Daniel, let alone continue speaking. Lando was more than aware of what touching your hair did to you. He'd discovered this trick quite early on. And it was his favorite one.

"So, where are you from?" Daniel attempted at small talk. But how could you possibly give a fuck at that moment. Not that your body would even allowed you to respond. The only thing you were able to take in from the outside world were the soft slow movements Lando's fingers were doing, blocking everything out instanteniously.

Daniel stared at you, waiting. From his perspective, this was a very awkward meeting.

Lando answered for you, with a smirk you did not see, but could feel from the tone of his voice. "You have to excuse her, she is bit shy in front of new people."

You could not give less of a fuck at that moment of what these two were saying. Your lips were starting to shiver from getting so sensitive. You took a short breath and someone who would be standing close and knew you well would know, that what escaped your mouth was not a nervous laugh, but something very close to a moan.

Lando and Daniel were saying words, but none of that was important, while Lando's fingers were working his magic. He would only leave your hair alone once he saw Daniel leaving.

You wanted to be mad at him. But you were still sort of high from all the sensation bomb Lando dropped on you. You slowly turned around to face him, coming down from your own personal nirvana.

You took a deep breath while he watched you without a blink and biting hims smile away.

"You promised," you let out air that got stuck in your lungs somewhere along the way. "You promised you would not do this in public." Your brain was slowly wiring up to normal again.

"I told you I'd punish you for the morning," he said as if it was the most amusing thing ever. "Also, if Daniel is my competition, I'm going to use all the advantage I have."

Lando had a way of looking at you that made you unravel instantaneously and there was no way of stopping it. There was just something about his smile that did it for you. As anyone who is properly in love, you could not imagine somebody being able tor resist that. In your love soaked mind, he was irresistible. To a normal mind, he was probably just a regular guy, but that idea was unfathomable to you.

"I'm pretty sure that after what I just pulled, you will not have to worry about Daniel liking me," you chuckled, having to accept that Lando won this one.

"I would never let my guard down...But yeah, I think this one is pretty safe," he chuckled once more. You kissed his overly proud face and promised to yourself to get back at him later, in the privacy of his bedroom.

316 notes · View notes

heedmywarnings · 1 year

Text

Again?

In where I am tired as shit so I wrote this dumbfuck continuation of a sagau fic as I wait for my fake airpods to finish charging.

Chapter 2 -《》 - Chapter 4

Navigation

♤-~-♤

Running, you were running. Of the many atrocities you faced, this one was more atrocious than Jake Gyllenhaal. Of all times, WHY NOW? why were you suddenly transported to Teyvat!? Well now you've concluded that... this was in fact not a dream and a case of isekai.

"HALT IN THE NAME OF BARBATOS!"

"FUCK BARBATOS"

Okay, that might've aggravated the knights but in this scenario, who the fuck cares? You're being hunted with nobody on your side, times like these--survival justifies the mean.

With an arrow throught your ankle and forearm you hastily ran for Liyue where you are met with the Conqueror of Demons. He holds his spear with a deathly grip and his head high, "You cannot run forever with an arrow through your ankle," He says, readying his weapon, "You must have ankle kink if you're noticing my ankle, heh," "Foolish,"

Maybe it wasn't the best idea to provoke Xiao, but then again, it was kinda funny. You sloppily dodged all his attacks, maybe "dodged" is too much of a strong word since you just go tgrazed by his weapon, but not fully stabbed. Why isn't he actually trying to strike you where you're vulnerable?

Eius Mortem, my death was not caused by the burning claymore. It was the truth, an exchange of knowledge. What does he have to do with this?

No matter, you ran away not caring for the pulsing pain on your ankle. You whipped your head back around to see Xiao, motionless, not even following you. Liyue is too dangerous for you, so your best option is to seek shelter at the Chasm, but then again, the treasure hoarders will find you and would probably sell you... Sumeru it is then.

The evergreen beauty of the forest surrounds you, a moment of peace, a moment to breathe was gifted to you.

"Eh?"

!!!

"Who goes there!? Oh, it's just God-nara,"

...God-nara..? You exhaled knowing it was just an Aranara but the nickname it have you was totally uncalled for! God-nara? "God-nara is hurt, come with Aragaru," 'it' suddenly pulled your hand and started leading you somewhere, "H-hey wait a second! Where are we going?"

"Varanara"

"I have somewhere to go.. can you just help me with my wounds?"

"Hmm"

The Aranara who called itself Aragaru thought for a moment before agreeing with, "Woah, how'd you know hot to bandage this?" You ask in fascination, "Golden nara taught me, Golden nara says Aragaru should be more careful when picking flowers.." it responded, you assumed by what it meant by "Golden nara" was the Traveler, well thank the Archo- I mean thank the Traveler for teaching this Aranara how to bandage a wound.

"Thank you, Aragaru, I'll look forward to our next meeting." You said as you bid him goodbye, Aragaru was waving his tiny little hand. Despite being a fresh wound, the bruise didn't hurt as much, I mean yeah you have to watch where you're going as to not reopen the wound or gey caught, but atleast you can breathe in this wonderful fores-

"GET DOWN, NOW"

Why the fuck now?

You stumbled on your knees, not daring to see who the source of voice was, "It is them," He says, when he spoke you knew it was him, it was Tighnari. You toom a gamble and looked up and lo and behold, the one and only mushroom-eating mammal.

"...Spare them of their life, we won't discuss of their presence in the Avidya Forest,"

What?

"But Mister Tighnari-" "We will NOT discuss of their presence,"

And with that, confusion only littered your mind... First Xiao, now Tighnari? Well for starters, Tighnari was never involved in the hunt in the first place, so maybe he just disliked the idea of it... Still doesn't explain Xiao's reason...

"Okay well uh fuck, I think my wounds are infected," You cursed out loud, "Well, that will make my job easier, no?"

Skirk wears the color green

#genshin impact #sagau #self aware genshin #sagau cult au #imposter sagau #sagau impostor au #sagau x reader

2K notes · View notes

penny-anna · 1 month

Text

“Honestly, I only have one major source of disappointment.” “Yeah?” Luz licked her wrist clean. “Yeah,” said Gus wistfully. “I thought standing on a giant spinning ball would be a lot cooler. But it just feels – regular, you know? I can’t really feel the difference?” Luz paused in the act of sucking melted popsicle off her forearm. “Huh?” “Yeah!” Gus juggled his popsicle and did his best to put his clenched fists together by way of demonstration. “You know how the Human Realm is round like a ball?” “Well – yeah, of course I know –” Luz’s brain caught up with the implications of that troubling statement. “Wait, do you – do you think the Demon Realm is flat?” “It is flat.” Gus licked his popsicle. The thing with Gus was that he was a smart kid – real smart – much smarter than her, if she was gonna be honest – but he was still twelve and he could be real dumb sometimes. “Oh my God,” she said, giddy confusion rising in her chest. “Oh my God, Gus – uh, I hate to be the one to break it to you, but –” “Nope,” Gus interrupted. “No, no, I see where this is going and I’m gonna nip this in the bud right now.” He dropped his sticky popsicle stick to the porch and gesturing firmly said, “The Human Realm is a round spinning ball that goes around a big sun. The Demon Realm is a flat disc with a little sun that goes around it.” Luz stared at him, popsicle dripping steadily onto her leg. “This is like, elementary school science,” said Gus. “We got pictures proving it.” Luz went on staring at him. She squinted. He looked very serious. She didn’t think he was messing with her. He was a very smart kid. “That,” she said slowly. “Cannot be right.”

i feel like there might be material in the show contradicting this but you can pull this hc out of my cold dead hands <3 new fic coming soon anyway

#the owl house

232 notes · View notes

queen-of-scissors · 1 year

Note

What happens if creator has a lot of squishmellows and misses them?

Heres a challenge for you: The characters cannot and i mean cannot make another set of squishmellows the reason for this is because the squishmellows the reader has are gifts from there family.

Challenge accepted.

masterlist

----------------------------------------------------

İm huggable too!!

---------------------------------------------------

You let out a dreamy sigh, and they were at your side as soon as they heard you.

"Your highness? Are you alright?"

With a forced smile, you looked at them from where you sat, "No need to worry, I'm fine!"

"Realy..? But you don't look fine."

"İ just-"

"Do you feel unwell?!" Green-haired man in the crowd, Baizhu, split the group to get near you. "Please tell me the symptoms."

"No, i-"

"Are you bored?" The boy with blue braided hair, Venti, teleported beside you with a gust of wind "shall I sing for you?"

"Guys-"

"Perhaps you are experiencing the feeling of being burnt out" the god of mora gently spoke, "May I suggest some calming tea? Brewing them shouldn't take long, only 4 hours should be enough"

"Will you hear me out?"

The room goes silent, they were embarrassed to realize they acted before giving you a chance to explain. How childish it was of them.

Don't be mad at them pls they are just trying to help ;; they can't stand the thought of you feeling down!

You sighed once again.

"...i just missed my squishmellows"

"Pardon?"

"I missed my extra fluffy, stuffed animals"

Zhongli looked at you sweetly "is that all? Well then, you need but ask"

"Noooo they won't be the same as my babies ;;"

Everyone turned their head to face you, faster than how Ei turned back to her creation. You had a child?!?! When?! How?! Do you have a court in another world?!

"Ok, before you take everything I say literally again, let me tell all of you this;.

No, they are not my actual children. İ call the pillows this because I love them so much"

Ohhh, oh ok they did NOT understand

"Now that won't do~" Yae Miko cooed "Leaving Their Highness deprived of the warmth and fluffiness they need is absolutely unacceptable! Hmmmmm"

She looked at you, seemingly lost in thought, but you could see the mischievous look in her eyes. Which also made you realize the light purple glow coming from her back.

"Perhaps," she stepped forward, making her tail more visible for all to see, "you might find my fur more huggable than your pillows~ would you like to try?"

"THE AUDACİTY-" one of your acolytes screamed, though they seemed redder than you are.

"Excuse me??" Tighnari let out an offended gasp "You think you can replace the holy object that they hold near?"

"Well, could you? Please spare yourself the embarrassment and don't act like you would not like to be at the pillows place as well~"

"Ok- listen here- what kind of a fake hybrid doesn't like being petted?" He admitted, blushing.

Gorou shifted uncomfortably, he also wanted to at least tell you that he would love nothing more than being your personal cuddler, his pride doesn't let him be teased about it. Yae picked up on that, however,

"Hmm? What is it general? Do you have something to say?"

You see him tense up so you decided to take the situation over

"Thank you Miko, knowing that you got my back makes me feel better haha!"

She smiles "anytime your Grace, my offer still stands if you choose to take it whenever you May need it ~"

"Hey creator~"

Your head instinctively turns to one of your titles being sung.

Venti, who is now in his Archon form, decided to fluff his wings in your direction.

"My feathers need a bit of brushing, it is such a pain doing it by myself, would you help this frustrated Acolyte with your divine touch?~"

You hear a deep growl from behind you.

"Foolish Bard. Stop this nonsense this İNSTANT"

"....Said the dragon Archon in his dragon form waiting for pets." He mumbled

I don't know about you, but if I Heard that Zhongli is in his dragon form? İ would turn my head so fast that even xiao would be jealous of my speed-

But for the sake of keeping it all reader-friendly, and keeping in mind that not everyone is a simp, let's just say the reader decides to stop the chaos.

To stop the chaos, you have 3 choices

1- pick one of them

2-pick all of them

3- shut everyone up and wait for albedo to open a portal to get you your squishmellows back.

Warning: option 3 May cause them to get damaged in some way. But don't worry creator! Your acolytes are here for comfort :D

2K notes · View notes

sentoooo · 3 months

Text

[anon: Hi can you write an Alphabet head cannon for Johnny cage and male reader?] i assume you mean an nsfw alphabet? i cannot find any other alphabet, so i apologize if i got it wrong T_T.

startin off strong with THE johnny cage. john john. yeah. that guy.

cw: nsfw, mxm, bodyworship, little bit of praise, edging, johnny fuckin' cage, baby. proofread MINORS DNI

ɴꜱꜰᴡ ᴀʟᴘʜᴀʙᴇᴛ || ᴊᴏʜɴɴʏ ᴄᴀɢᴇ

A = Aftercare (what they’re like after sex)

Johnny's actually like a golden retriever. As much as he likes to show off,- and that doesn't mean he won't in bed either- he has a very tender side. Afterwards, he refuses to let you leave his arms. Need your clothes? Nope, he'll get them. As long as you hold his hand. Need a bath? He's carrying you to it. Maybe a little snack? Some water? Dragging you along for the adventure. And after all that, he'll tuck you both in, hold you reaaallll close, and whisper sweet nothings until either you or him are asleep.

B = Body part (their favorite body part of theirs and also their partner’s)

Johnny's favorite body part? God, what isn't to love about him? It's so hard to choose! Just kidding. It's his biceps and his pecs. He's proud of 'em. Makes him feel all big and strong, means you can't run away like Sonya did. Though, he still loves every part of his body equally. Let's not forget about his little friend down there.

On you, it has to be your thighs. Or maybe your hands? God, he can't choose. Everything about you is perfection to him. No, no, it's definitely your stomach! Wait... no. It's your face. Nah, that doesn't do you justice. It's everything. Genuinely. He can't choose. Don't ask him to.

C = Cum (anything to do with cum, basically)

He's more than fine cumming anywhere. Inside? Gladly. On your thigh? Fuck yes. Stomach? Sign him up. It's like an autograph to him, as long as he gets to "sign" you, he's happy as hell.

D = Dirty secret (pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)

He's dominant, yes. He likes being the star of the show. But he will let you top him here and there. His dirty secret? Just how much he yearns to moan your name. Yell it, let him know who he belongs to. But he won't admit it. His pride can't take that hit. Not yet.

E = Experience (how experienced are they? do they know what they’re doing?)

God, what doesn't he know? He's an actor, baby. He's THE Cage. He's had more than his fair share of experience. He knows your body almost more than you do, exactly where to touch to illicit a reaction from you, just the right spots to hit, and those sweet sweet words that turn you on instantly.

F = Favorite position (this goes without saying)

He love love loves cowgirl- or shall we call it cowboy? Not reverse, though. He needs to see your face. Has to. Non-negotiable. He likes to get his hands all over you, and he loves to see your pleasure. How else is he supposed to know that he's making you feel so damn good? Not that he isn't, god he knows, but just a reassurance.

G = Goofy (are they more serious in the moment? are they humorous? etc.)

You're asking if Johnny Fuckin' Cage is serious? No. Hell no. He's crackin' jokes, but mainly he's praising himself. Not that he isn't praising you, either. But You hear a lot of "How's li'l Johnny treatin' ya?", in a way, it's kind of sexy. In a very CAGE-y way, at least.

H = Hair (how well groomed are they? does the carpet match the drapes? etc.)

He's got some body hair. Mainly, a happy trail, complimented by his V-Line. A little arm hair, but he keeps his chest clean. Pubic hair wise, he's got a little. Keeps himself trimmed, but still keeps some down there. Compliments his dick, that's what it does.

I = Intimacy (how are they during the moment? the romantic aspect)

God, he's so sweet it'll make your teeth hurt. Amongst his little ego-boosting, he swings praises your way. All honeyed, yet truthful nonetheless. His touch has always been full of longing, more so than lust. Everything he says is true. You know that. Regardless, he's gonna drill that into you. And drill into you.

J = Jack off (masturbation headcanon)

He jacks off quite frequently. Though, he will always, always prefer you. Being in you, your hand, your mouth. But with his sex drive, he jacks off at least once a week, and if you aren't around, 7 days a week, baby. Always thinkin' of you.

K = Kink (one or more of their kinks)

Body worship. Through and through. He fuckin' loves it when you're all over him, gliding your hands from his collarbone to his waist, tracing his V-line, his abs, his tattoos, all with such love and yearning. Taking almost 30 minutes to explore each others bodies before anything goes in anywhere is always a pre-requisite.

He also LOVES edging. You, specifically. He's an asshole that way. Listening to you beg, whimper, cry to release. To cum allll over you and him. Fuck, does that get him going. He's almost let you just cum each and every time. One of these days, he's gonna break.

L = Location (favorite places to do the do)

Anywhere, baby. Anywhere, anytime. He is always down. Shower sex? Yes. Quickie in a restroom somewhere? As long as it's as clean as a Bucca Di Beppo bathroom, yes. Speaking of, god, if he could fuck you in a Bucca Di Beppo, he so would. Now THAT'S fine dinin'.

M = Motivation (what turns them on, gets them going)

You, always you. But specifically when you're fighting anyone. Not him, of course, shit, he's terrified of you. But all determined like that, nose bloody, knuckles bloodied, bruised. God, you are just SEETHING with sexual energy. And damn, he's going to fuck you after you win. However you like, baby.

N = No (something they wouldn’t do, turn offs)

Anything that'll hurt you. Hard no for him. He refuses to do anything of the sort. He can't hurt that pretty little body of yours, can he? No, no he can't. That is a cardinal sin, baby. He can't even fight you.

O = Oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.)

Oh, he loves giving. And he doesn't mind receiving. But fuck, he loves watching you squirm, gripping the sheets, and running your hands through his hair as he goes down on you. And he loves how you reward him after, it's like dessert.

P = Pace (are they fast and rough? slow and sensual? etc.)

He can go however fast you like, baby. You feelin' like enjoying the night, all romantic and sensual? Absolutely, anything for you. He will make the first round last for an hour. Feelin' especially frisky and want to scream his name all night (and all day, if your stamina so permits it)? Fuck. Yes. Say no more.

Q = Quickie (their opinions on quickies, how often, etc.)

He'll do 'em. He aint afraid. Especially if you two only have time for that. He'll make sure your both satisfied and have both came. At least twice. But he does prefer having the full experience. He likes having you anytime, though.

R = Risk (are they game to experiment? do they take risks? etc.)

Always, and forever, babe. He'll try everything at least once. He's fucked you in the most scandalous places before, too. One time, he was fairly sure Liu Kang was watching. That's why he fucked ya then and there.

S = Stamina (how many rounds can they go for? how long do they last?)

Hours, day and night. Ride him like a horse. He'll wear that cowboy hat for ya, too. At least, that's what he said. The longest you've two have lasted was from 12am-4am. With breaks. But he sure didn't seem winded. Not in the slightest.

T = Toys (do they own toys? do they use them? on a partner or themselves?)

So. Fucking. Many. For you, for him, for both of you. He loves watching you pleasure yourself with his toys. And vice versa. He loves torturing you with em, too. Watching you nearly tap out and lean up against him cause you couldn't hold yourself up while he was fuckin' ya senseless and using a remote-control cockring. He also LOVES his sybian. Both of you grinding up, little bit of frotting, knowing you feel just as good as he does. Fuck, it makes him hard at the thought.

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease)

Oh, he's a fucking dickhead. As mentioned, he LOVES to edge you. How weak you are against him, yet knowing you want more, knowing you love it. He could do it all night baby. Make sure you got good impulse control. He won't hold back.

V = Volume (how loud they are, what sounds they make, etc.)

He's LOUD, baby, real loud. He wants you to know how good you make him feel. And he wants to praise you. How good you are, taking his dick. Like a champ. He'll moan, and grunt, and growl. All in your ear, too. He knows you like it. A little bit of breath play, for a good boy.

W = Wild card (a random headcanon for the character)

The amount of sex tapes in his phone is INSANE. But he won't post em, not if you don't want it. He knows his adoring fans would love it, and he'd LOVE to show off his boy to all of em. He gets off watchin' 'em, too. Are you surprised?

X = X-ray (let’s see what’s going on under those clothes)

He's a biiiig boy. Took you a bit to get used to him. He's a shower, though. He's about 6.7" in length, and 1.9" wide. Leans slightly to the left. Circumsized.

Y = Yearning (how high is their sex drive?)

He's gotta fuck ya at least once a day. His sex drive is through the roof, I mean. He's Johnny Cage. If he doesn't get his dick wet once a day, who is he?

Z = Zzz (how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)

Yeah, he's tired as shit afterwards, but until you have been cleaned up, drank, and ate if you needed to, then he's out. He refuses to fall asleep beforehand. And normally, he has to make sure you fell asleep first.

#⁺◟sentooo #mk1 x reader #mk x reader #mortal kombat x reader #mortal kombat 1 x reader #mk1 x male reader #mk x male reader #mortal kombat 1 x male reader #mortal kombat x male reader #johnny cage x reader #johnny cage x male reader

182 notes · View notes

heartstopperthoughts · 7 months

Text

Any talented fanfiction writers in the Heartstopper fandom who want to write my Charlie Proposes First headcanon?

So, it takes place around the time that Charlie graduates uni (Nick graduated a year prior) and they’re moving into their first place together.

Tao has joined Charlie to help him do some moving-house shopping, and they pass by a jewelry store and Tao wants to stop to get Elle something for her birthday. Charlie sees a ring that it just so perfectly Nick. (At this point marriage is still kind of a far-off concept in Charlie’s mind. Like they’ve talked about getting married at some point but in a very abstract off-in-the-future kind of way.) He casually points out the ring to Tao who is like, “Haha, you guys have basically been married for years now, are you finally ready to tie the knot?” and Charlie kind of laughs it off, but then they go home, and Charlie cannot stop thinking about the ring. He doesn’t tell anyone, but he goes back to buy it and decides he’ll just save it for when he and Nick are both finally ready. But then just having the ring makes marriage feel more real, like he realizes he’s actually going to get married to Nick Nelson one day and he starts to kind of obsess over it and how he might propose. He wants it to be a grand gesture but he also wants to make it special and personal but not too cheesy and also not too public but not too boring either. In true Charlie Spring fashion, he gets himself all worked up over it, and to calm himself down, he starts to carry the ring around with him, just so he’s ready if the opportunity ever presents itself.

Anyways, flash forward a handful of months and Nick and Charlie are home for the holidays staying with Nick’s mom, and they’ve offered to do the Christmas dinner shopping. They’re walking through the store, just chatting, and Charlie can feel the ring in his pocket. He just stops and looks at Nick and all of the sudden realizes “I am so in love with this man, and I want to be married to him, like, yesterday.” And without even really thinking about it, Charlie blurts out “We should get married” and Nick thinks he means like someday eventually, so he just says “Yeah?” and turns around all smiley like nothing’s happening, and then he sees how nervous Charlie looks and he realizes Charlie is serious. Meanwhile alarms are going off in Charlie’s brain because he’s starting to realize like, “Oh shit, I think I’m proposing right now?!!!!” And he scrambles in his pocket for the ring and is like “Yeah!” and fumbles out this unplanned but incredibly heartfelt proposal. Nick is completely stunned and isn’t really saying anything, and Charlie’s brain starts to spiral like “Oh shit I’ve fucked it up! What am I doing proposing to him here?! Charlie Spring, you complete idiot! Of course you would pick the least romantic place in the entire world to ask the love of your life to marry you. As if he would say yes to you in a Tesco! You couldn’t have thought this through more?!” And then Nick starts to tear up and fishes around in his own pocket and pulls out… you guessed it, a ring! And they both start sobbing, and say yes to each other.

Turns out Nick had bought a ring back in the summer too and had wanted to propose but didn’t want to add stress to Charlie’s already full plate with graduation and starting a new job and moving into a new place, so he had decided to wait. He’d been trying to work up the nerve to take Charlie to the beach where they had their first date and propose there, but just wasn’t sure when it would be the right time, and he didn’t want to rush Charlie into anything if he wasn’t ready to be married just yet. And Charlie’s like, “Oh my God, I am so sorry I ruined your proposal! And I asked in a Tesco of all places. I’m an idiot!” And Nick hushes him and is like “You’re not. It was perfect. You’re perfect.”

And then they go to the beach anyways to celebrate their engagement.

#I know alice said she doesn’t know who proposes first #and most people seem to assume it would be Nick #but I’m here to say they are WRONG #It would 1000% be Charlie #in the most chaotic way possible #heartstopper #heartstopper netflix #heartstopper tv #heartstopper headcanons #nick and charlie #nick x charlie #narlie #nick nelson #charlie spring #osemanverse #alice oseman #kit connor #joe locke

354 notes · View notes

ataraxiaspainting · 3 months

Text

Yan Phantom Troupe + Hisoka + Illumi / Darling Asking “What Am I To You?”.

Warnings: Yandere themes, stalking, kidnapping, implied violence, not SFW implications for Hisoka because he’s a creep (and a mention of M*lluki in Illumi’s section I’m sorry for your loss) and also for Nobunaga because he’s bleh, Nobunaga threatens to take out your teeth for biting him it's up to you whether or not to believe him, and manipulation.

Word Count: 4.5k. (literally how lmao)

*~*~*~*

Chrollo

“Hm…” The sound goes on for much longer than what you would have liked or at the very most could handle without sneering, the crescendo in his voice rising and rising like tulips sprouting from soil. “Hm…”

His tone was barely a whisper at first, but it soon evolved like some hideous, god-forsaken species outcasted to a deserted island or planet. If you did not have your forks and knives taken away for trying to pick and cut off the cuff and chain attached to your ankle, a consequence from last week’s horribly executed escape attempt, you would threaten to stab your eardrums if he didn’t actually answer your question. But part of you thinks that he would only find it funny, and simply hum for twice as long as he has already planned to. Or would he be petty about it, and a second cuff and chain will appear on your ankle along with having your only friend, a silver spoon, taken away? With Chrollo, you do not think you will ever be able to fully tell.

“Please answer me,” You decide on responding with a musical note of your own, a drone. It seems to be the safest option, all things considered. You stare at the soup in front of you instead of at him, playing with the idea of counting the precisely cut vegetables and small rings of pasta. You would have entertained the thought of throwing the boiling bowl at him, but you now know that his speed is beyond what you could ever hope to achieve.

You would never get that far, would you?

You would have to wait until he is gone for the time being to even be able to step on the welcome rug by the door. You managed to convince him to finally buy you hairpins yesterday, and they are safely tucked away in the corner of the table next to your side of the bed, hidden underneath a pile of neatly folded silk pajamas until further notice.

“Well, what do you think you are to me?” He asks, brushing his foot against yours underneath the dining table. It takes everything in you not to move your chair away. That would only make things worse, wouldn’t it? Or would this just further make him see you as an adorable little thing because he knows you would not get that far, not with the cuff and chain on your ankle and the several locks on the door and him here right in front of you?

Again, you cannot tell. When can you ever? Could anyone ever read him, you wonder?

His porcelain dish is already empty, with but a few drops of red broth and a few herbs swirling about. He moves his chair forward and gently grabs your hand, his thumb massaging circles into your palm. You don’t know whether or not to answer his question.

This life is like a torturous game of chess, and you aren’t a player at all. It is up to Chrollo to decide whether or not you are worthy of being a pawn or queen or king, and where you go.

Is this all you will ever be?

His fingers rise to your cheek as he stands up, the touch so light it is hard to decipher the intentions of it. Comfort? Ownership? A statement?

Without thinking, you shut your eyes and lean into it. You coo. You coo like a dove, a baby bird, something so small and fragile in the face of a predator that wants nothing more than to take off its wings so it can never fly away. Perhaps the predator in question is the parent of the chick, never wanting it to leave the nest and explore the big, scary world.

Is this all you ever will be? A helpless, silly little thing stuck way up high with no way down, something cute and small that needs to be protected and cared for because they cannot take care of themselves?

You finally look up at him and he leans in then. He coos back at you, and you want to go back to closing your eyes and trying to stop hearing whatever he will say as a response to your refusal to answer. But you can’t.

So, you think of an answer, something that would make him happy but also not have you speak too long because you don’t want to speak at all. You just want this to be over with, you just want Chrollo to for once respond to your question instead of rebutting with one of his own.

You don’t have a choice, as always.

“Something to possess,” Your voice is soft and hoarse because you never use it aside from when you cry. “Something… someone to keep for your pleasure and your pleasure alone.” He coos again. It is sweet and sticky and latching onto you like thick honey or candy.

“You’re halfway there.” There is an unspoken praise in the air, one so nectarous it’s suffocating and you almost can't breathe. It is like Chrollo’s hands are on your throat, squeezing and squeezing until you pop like a balloon. There is no escape.

He turns and gets his fingers off your face, but the feeling of freedom is quickly taken away by the sound of Chrollo’s footsteps approaching you.

“I suppose I see you as both above and below me at the same time.” He says. You want to run but he’ll catch you in no time before you could even execute the idea.

He is behind you now, grabbing your arms and tugging as your chair squeals and squeaks like a lamb cornered by one who will soon sell its tender meat. You want to scream like one because you too are cornered by someone who will never let you out of here alive.

One of his hands smoothly moves up like you are a violin, lightly pinching your chin and forcing you to look up at him. You just hope there is no encore after this. You hope that in the future there are no such things and that he will just answer your questions and be done with it, but that is so foolish of you, isn’t it?

“You are human and have humanity,” He murmurs, his eyes wider and more intense than you ever had seen them before. “And I would love nothing more than to steal that away.”

Nobunaga

“You’re so silly, you know that?” You recognize the rhetorical nature of the question and choose not to answer. This causes Nobunaga to toy with the thigh-high socks he insisted you wear after returning from another day of thievery.

Every time you tried to express yourself verbally, you were met with a laugh, a gentle touch, an embrace, a peck, or... something far more dreadful than any of those gestures. You preferred to steer clear of that type of affectionate act for as long as you could, even if it meant just a few days. It would be a noteworthy achievement. Of course, Nobunaga's libido would never wane, as he shows no mercy unintentionally to you and intentionally to anyone else in his life.

The way your food is placed on pink plastic plates with little sections of where to put vegetables and where to put a small dessert for a job well done of eating all the food, which is always raw or burnt to a crisp. The pastel frilly clothes you’re forced to wear always show too much skin. The threat to remove most of your teeth if you bite him again. The way he keeps touching your thighs, pinching and groaning and-

Nobunaga never answers your question, resuming to hand-feed you some severely undercooked cookies he baked himself. Well, you scooped the dough at least, and that’s the most you’ll ever do in the kitchen while you are held captive.

Still, raw cookie dough is better than burnt in your opinion.

Just like delusional Nobunaga is much, much better than angry, heartbroken Nobunaga.

Your broken pointer and middle fingers are proof of that.

Feitan

“...”

He blinks; once, twice, thrice… and then you stop counting. It’s pointless anyhow, he is most likely not going to answer your question yet again.

As anticipated, Feitan walks away wordlessly, descending to his basement without a single step on the stairs being audible.

Just as you believe he has vanished, he creeps up from behind, clutching an object in his palms, causing you to nearly shriek. He would find amusement in that if you did. Whenever you engage in any action he deems foolish, he chuckles. It is the closest semblance of happiness you have witnessed from him, his snickering.

“...Here.”

With trembling hands, you accept the concealed object from his grasp.

“...Well?” Feitan asks, raising his eyebrow, his coat hiding what is most likely a smirk of some kind. “Like it?”

Huh? It's... a ring, from a fancy jewelry shop that you had been setting aside money for. This shop happened to be the priciest in the city you grew up in, with all of its items being highly sought after.

“I do.”

Happiness is like the rarest star in the universe to you now, and you will never let it go, now that you have it once again.

“...Glad.”

After a few moments of silence, Feitan is the one who speaks again as you stare at the jewel’s beauty.

“Do you want the finger that came with it?”

(machi, hisoka, phinks, shalnark, franklin, shizuku, pakunoda, bonolenov, uvogin, kortopi, and illumi under cut!)

Machi

Somehow, Machi’s posture becomes even more tense. But it does not stop her from still pouring the pot of instant ramen into your plate, though hers remains empty.

In silence, she puts some edamame, still cold from the fridge, on top, along with some spinach and carrots.

With her bare hand, she pulls out one of the soft-boiled eggs from the bowl of ice water, rolling it on the table until its shell cracks and she takes it off. She then, along with the egg and vegetables, puts some seaweed on top.

When you lean in closer to the utensil drawer, Machi opens it before you can.

She doesn’t ask you which chopsticks you want. She already knows your favorite one by now. The wooden ones with purple handles with white rabbits on them. Hers are plain.

She puts yours in one hand and your food in the other, walking to the kitchen table and putting both down. It’s winter now, and so she makes you drink tea nonstop and thus has a cup of it in front of your chair too.

“…Do you think I hate you?” Her voice, while still cold, has an emotion in it this time; worry. “I don’t, I really don’t. I promise you.” With that, she cracks the other boiled egg and puts it into her empty bowl. “I promise.”

You feel horrible for asking. You just wanted to know. You never know what she is thinking, that is why. But you feel horrible. Now she does too. Both of you, here, in silence, pondering whether or not the other despises you.

“I know, I just… wanted to make sure.” You don’t know if you are lying, and neither does she.

She takes good care of you. But she also ties you up when she has to leave, and one time she had to take out the syringes when you got too aggressive.

So what exactly are you to her?

Hisoka

Hisoka, still standing over your sitting form, puts his right hand on you, squeezing it just barely enough for it to sting.

“Aw, come on [First], lighten up.” If it were possible, with his words Hisoka grows twice as large as he was before he said anything. “I still have lots to teach you.” He chuckles as his long nails, sharp enough to be daggers or a ferocious beast’s teeth you think, dig further into your shoulder. The message is clear. You’ll never be rid of him, as much as you try to.

Even now, when you move to a secluded village on the other side of the country, for just the slightest chance he would leave you alone.

Your basket of berries and herbs is still next to you, a reward for all the foraging you did just before Hisoka showed up again.

“I did your leaf-in-water test already for you.” Just before you ran for the hills, you finally gave into Hisoka essentially begging you to test what kind of Nen user you are, claiming that you were now his pupil. “The water tasted sweet. I’m a Transmuter. That’s what you wanted to know. There is nothing else you can do for me, you know I am no fighter.”

Hisoka nods, and you think that this is it. Maybe he will finally leave you alone and you can go about your life without knowing anything else about Nen. But instead, Hisoka sits next to you on the grass.

He takes a berry from your basket and squeezes it between his fingers before it turns into a sticky mush.

It’s red.

“I know, but there are other things I can indeed teach you, can’t I?”

You don’t want to know what he means, you don’t want to know what he wants to do to you, but before you can stop him he is already on top of you, pushing you behind the bush you were picking rose petals from. You kick and scream at him to let go and cry, but he, as always, is so much stronger than you’ll ever be.

“This will hurt for a bit, but I promise you’ll feel very good, and you’ll want more.”

Phinks

Phinks stops pressing the buttons on the remote and stops reading the little synopsis on each of the shows he was thinking about watching with you, or each of the movies. You were not paying attention, instead looking at your fingers and playing with the dry skin by each nail.

He sets it aside, placing a hand on the back of his head and gently scratching. His gaze falls to the floor, and you follow suit.

He exudes nervousness. This comes as no surprise, as Phinks has always been one to shy away from openly displaying his romantic desires, as odd as it were to you when you were first brought here.

“Uh. Why do you ask? Isn’t… it kinda obvious? Um… you know I’m not exactly cut out for all this sappy bullshit… I… I… Um. Just… just forget it, okay? Just know that I see you as my partner… Wait, oh God, that sounds so bad…”

He keeps stuttering as he tries to explain everything. But, as funny as it would have been if you had known him outside of being your stalker and now current captor, his words only make you feel more hopeless.

Shalnark

He puts down his phone and stands up from his armchair. You’re in your pajamas, the fluffy pastel pink ones, standing in the doorway to Shalnark’s office area, where there are many computers and such on the walls and his large desk.

“Aw!” He murmurs, then gently pinches your cheeks upon approaching. He playfully rubs his nose against yours. Trying to distance yourself, instantly regretting seeking an answer of any sort from him, yet as always, his overpowering strength prevents any escape.

“C-Come on, Shal…” The nickname sometimes works when you ask for some dessert or a game of some kind, so maybe it will work in a situation like this too. “I wanna go to bed.” You nearly whine as he stretches your cheeks out further.

“But I still haven’t answered your question, sweetie!” He exclaims.

“F-Forget it.” You mutter, looking to the side. “It’s fine. Really. Get back to work.”

But he does not let go.

“Let me answer! Hmm… you’re so cute, like a kitten. You sure snuggle against me in bed like one!” Shalnark chuckles, and you can smell a mix of coffee and oranges in his breath. “So maybe… that’s the best analogy for it?” Some mint too. “Something to cuddle with? Something to keep safe.” He boops your nose. “Something too silly and adorable and airheaded to live on their own.”

You’re not sure if his words are supposed to hurt you or cheer you up.

“Yeah, I think something like that works!” After what seems like an endless amount of time, Shalnark releases his grasp on your face. “Just look at you.”

“O-Okay.” You murmur, turning away and attempting to make a beeline for the bedroom, regretting ever opening your mouth. “Sorry for asking. Good night-” Shalnark grabs your arm, making you stop moving before you even start.

“Come on, cutie! Spend some time with me. We can even play Wild World together again!”

He points to your 3DS, a rose gold color, and then to his, which is dark violet and covered in stickers referencing popular memes he saw on the internet. At least he has never made you see some particularly gruesome scene in the horror games he plays late at night out of impulse.

Franklin

As your words hang in the air, a silence so profound that you begin to question if he even registered your message, you find yourself fixating on your unfinished meal. Contemplating the merits and drawbacks of broaching the topic once more versus letting it go, you suddenly hear him put his cup of coffee down with a clatter as he almost slams it by accident.

“Where did this come from?” He asks. His tone almost seems concerned, you think, concerned for how you think of him when he is always so quiet or concerned for how you think he thinks of you, that one day he will simply not come back and find someone else more willing.

Franklin does not seem angry, not that he ever was. He is trying to appear neutral, to not scare you, like you were some sort of stray cat who he has yet to earn the trust of.

Though you don’t bite or scratch, you do hide from him.

“I… just want to know why you did all… this.”

Your eyes go everywhere, from the pots of plants he brought you recently by the barred windows to the blinking light above the stairs he promised to fix soon to Frank Herbert’s Dune laid across the couch next to your blanket.

“Franklin, since you claim to care about me… why can’t I go outside and be free?”

After a few more moments of silence, you look up at Franklin. He looks remorseful almost, from his visible frown to his eyes almost being closed to the way he does not look at you. Something akin to pity blooms in your chest.

“...Because unfortunately for both of us, I am… selfish, and you are too much for me to lose.”

Just like that, the pity dies similarly to the vase of flowers in the middle of the table.

Shizuku

You don’t know whether or not she will respond while knowing what you are and what she is. A captive. A captor. But you doubt it because every time she comes back she thinks you are here of your own volition and that you love her just as much as you know her.

Sometimes, you wish that you did, because whenever she sees you she looks at you like you were a gift that she had wanted for years.

Sometimes you wish that you did because that would make things oh so much easier for you. She sometimes forgets you are here, sometimes still goes to your actual home, and panics when she sees you are not there.

Shizuku merely chuckles, hugging you tighter. Perhaps she even forgot the slap she inflicted upon you earlier today for daring to say that you hate her, making you fly across the room.

“My love of course, silly!” Sometimes you hope that one day you will forget everything too because you envy Shizuku for never being cautious.

Pakunoda

“[First]...” Pakunoda’s eyes meet your own, one of her hands holding onto a chocolate-covered strawberry from the box she just got. Her other has a presence above one of your own, a presence so light you hardly recognize it is there.

She looks regretful and concerned.

The look fills you with so much guilt you immediately apologize and put the back of your head on her lap once again. It always works.

“You do know I care about you deeply, right, beloved?” Her long nails glide over your hair, making you close your eyes to calm yourself. You hope that look is gone because you aren’t sure how much longer you can take it before you break under its pressure fully. “I really do.”

You know she does, but it does not make the first days of your capture, which feels like an eternity ago, feel any less real, as much as Pakunoda denies the more horrifying parts of it all.

“I know, Paku.”

She smiles at the nickname.

The strawberry approaches your mouth, and you bite into it. Dark chocolate, you think this one is. Pakunoda loves her strawberries, but she loves parfaits just a little bit more. Maybe, to get her to forget your question, you can ask her to get some and feed them to her.

Soon, you fall asleep. Pakunoda opens her book back up after closing the box of sweets.

With one hand she caresses your hair, and in the other, she turns the pages of her novel. She loves evenings like this.

“I love you…” She murmurs, brushing some of your hair out of your face. “One day… you’ll love me too, fully, right?”

Half asleep, you agree without thinking. Once again, she smiles.

Bonolenov

With a sigh, he turns his head, momentarily interrupting your question. However, he quickly resumes dancing before you, delighting in your observation of his favorite pastime. Although you are unsure of the specific style of dance he is performing, you are confident that Bonolenov will soon enlighten you, taking the opportunity to boast about his expertise in this particular art form.

Listening to his animated explanations is always entertaining. His frequent rants make you feel as though he is a close friend rather than your captor if only that were true. Despite the circumstances, he treats you with kindness and respect. He believes that housing you in his home is an honor and privilege, a sentiment for which you hold some gratitude.

“A lover, because I do love you. You are simply wonderful to be around, after all.” In an alternate existence, were he not involved in criminal activities such as theft, kidnapping, stalking, and multiple murders, you might have developed an affection for him. This is due to your awareness of his deep affection for you and the kindness he exhibits towards you.

So you say such.

Bonolenov stays silent for a little while after that, along with the dancing that he often enjoys doing. Instead, he gazes through the windows, adorned with steel bars, and tenderly places small tokens that he knows bring you joy upon the table in the kitchen.

Uvogin

“Huh?”

Uvogin stops punching the claw machine, turning to you. It’s a mess, all because you said you wanted a corgi plush from it. But is it your fault, when you wanted to win it fair and square?

Maybe it’s not. Maybe it is. You know Uvogin is never one to have coins in his pockets. But, then again, he always seemed to have money when he was placing bets with Troupe members, especially with that Nobunaga person.

He seems confused, albeit he is hiding it behind a smirk. In one of his hands, covered in little shards of glass, is the stuffed animal you wanted.

“Come on, [First]!” He laughs, delusionally proud of himself. “I’m your boyfriend!” He wasn’t, but you would never voice that.

“...I-I know. But still… Do you like me?” You make an effort to convey your thoughts in the most diplomatic manner possible, being cautious not to provoke Uvogin's anger. Despite never having witnessed Uvogin's wrath, you remain steadfast in your desire to avoid it at all costs.

His smile widens.

“Of course I do!”

He presents you with the cuddly toy, having meticulously removed all the splinters of glass embedded within it.

“Do you really?” You ask, thinking of the time he threatened to break your legs if you ever attempted to run away from him again. He wasn’t even angry as he said the threat.

At another one of your questions, Uvogin says yes. But does he really? Or are you just something to hoard?

Do you really want to find out, you wonder?

Your heart tells you you don’t.

Kortopi

He turns his head, confused. It is one of the few expressions you can decipher from Kortopi because of the many strands of hair covering him. At the sight, you bow your head down.

He steps forward, and you step back.

He stops moving. So do you.

He retreats. You don’t speak for the rest of the day. You were used to it though. Kortopi hardly ever talks to you, but you don’t think he means it to be rude.

“Everything.” He mutters, standing above your bed. You sleep so peacefully, something you never were when you were awake. “You are everything.”

Illumi

Gently, he puts his teacup down with a little clatter of the saucer as he does so.

“Do you think I see you in a bad light, [First]?”

You simply look down at your teacup, smelling the lavender and chamomile to try to calm down a bit before answering Illumi.

The query has plagued your mind for an extended period. The exact duration remains elusive, as the days have merged into an indistinguishable blur. No matter your actions, pain will be inflicted upon you by someone, regardless of your conduct. Perhaps it will be Illumi's mother, administering a slightly sublethal, tasteless toxin with a syringe. Or it could be Illumi himself, subjecting you to days of confinement in a food and water-deprived closet. Regardless of your behavior, the inevitability of suffering looms.

With the intent of prolonging your exposure to the morning birdsong and granting yourself additional time in the garden, you opt to respond.

“N-No.” You lie. “You… keep me around to be molded into your perfect spouse, I know that, it is just… just…”

His smile sends chills down your spine, surpassing even the terror of Illumi's younger brother once launching into a lewd tirade about you in your presence.

“That is all there is to it; nothing more, nothing less.”

You sip the tea finally, and the burning sensation in your throat does not bother you anymore.

217 notes · View notes

alwaysonthemend · 4 months

Text

Author's Note: Requested by the lovely @mindastreamofcolours Please don't throw tomatoes at me I know this has taken FAR too long (I'm the worst I'm so sorry) But I hope the length is enough of an apology for the wait. If you see any typos... no you didn't

Also sorry if you got tagged twice. Tumblr was against me posting this apparently and I was ✨struggling✨ but I think I got it fixed now.

Warnings: Threesome (no slash) / unprotected sex / spitting / spanking / oral (m. and f. receiving) / hand jobs / masturbation / voyeurism / arguing / josh being josh / jake being a little shit / dom and sub jake / dom and sub reader / soft!dom josh / MINORS ABSOLUTELY DNI. 18+ ONLY PLEASE FOR THE LOVE OF GOD

Word Count: 7k+

⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽ ✺ ☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅

It started years ago – this little… arrangement that the three of you have. And at this point, none of you can even really remember how it had started. But, you suppose, the why and how don’t really matter anymore.

All that matters is them.

All that matters is that your life had changed from the very minute you were hired as their makeup artist. Your life changed to revolve around them and their needs.

And you love every second of it.

The rules (though none of you have ever really stated them outright) have always been simple.

One: Don’t talk about it with anyone else. No one needs to know what goes on behind closed doors and no one needs to concern themselves with something they won’t understand. This works for you three and involving others would only complicate things.

Two: No jealousy. At least, no more than a little showing out here and there. They work together (and they love each other more than anything else in the world) and this cannot ever get in the way. No questions, no pissing contests, no anger, no holding it against each other. There are nights where you leave with Josh and there are nights where you leave with Jake. There’s nothing else to it.

And finally, three: Never at the same time.

The arrangement is simple, really. You’re there to help them get their frustrations out now that they’re far too famous to be sleeping around with just any old roadie like the old days. They trust you. And you trust them. It’s easier this way for everyone. They get to blow off some steam and you get the most mind blowing sex of your life – all while getting to travel around the world doing what you love (for a handsome paycheck).

Plus, there’s satisfaction in knowing that despite there being thousands of men and women out there who would give anything to have them the way you do… it’s you who they go to. It’s you who they trust.

And anyways, you’re fairly certain that none of those screaming fans would be able to handle them like you can.

Though it had taken time, you had learned over the years what makes each of them tick – the thing that drives each of them absolutely crazy.

They’re both so similar and yet so different at the same time. Sun and moon, yin and yang… whatever you might call it – they balance each other in a way that few can understand.

Their differences are subtle, and yet they make all the difference in the world.

Josh loves to watch you. He wants to see how your face contorts in pleasure and how your tits bounce when he fucks you. He wants you on your back with your knees up to your chest so he can watch his cock slide in and out of you. He wants to watch you unravel around his cock as he whispers sweet things into your ear. Good girl, clever girl, beautiful girl. All you have to do is lay there and take it – let him pleasure you with his skilled tongue and big cock. Call him baby and Joshy in your sweetest voice and he falls apart inside your cunt, whining and moaning so prettily for you. Josh will give you orgasm after orgasm after orgasm until your body just can’t take it anymore and when you’re finally spent – laying there in a daze, he’ll grin and kiss you softly.

And then there’s Jake. Ever the dark to Josh’s light… he wants you to beg for it. He wants you cock drunk and desperate as he brings you to the edge over and over and over again until you’re left as nothing but a whiny mess beneath him. He demands respect. You call him sir or you will receive punishment. You do not cum unless he tells you to. You are obedient to him and him alone (though he always remains a slave to your pleasure despite himself). He likes you on your hands and knees where he can grip your hips and reach around to squeeze your throat as he pounds into you mercilessly. And his mouth. The vulgar things that spew from those plump lips of his leave you blushing like a schoolgirl. You’re his whore, his slut, his pretty little hole that he gets to use for the night. And when he finally, finally lets you cum…it’s the closest to Heaven on Earth that you’ll ever get.

But yet, as different as they are from each other… they’re the same in all the ways that matter. Your pleasure is at the top of their priorities. As much as you are there to help them relieve themselves on the road… they never take you for granted. At the end of the day, you call the shots and you have both of them wrapped around your finger completely. They’ll follow you into the depths of Hell if you ask them – which you’re sure is where all three of you are headed anyway. It’s an addictive little dance that you all play and you’re sure that it can only lead you all down the path of destruction. And yet… none of you can find it in yourselves to care.

⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽ ✺ ☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅

You already know that they’re pissed. You can practically smell it in the air as you wait patiently in the green room, waiting.

They had already been having one of those days – where everything seems to go wrong and they’re both intent on blaming the other for it. You’d been watching them do their dance all day. Listening to their bickering and passive aggressive little remarks at each other as the hours wore on and on. As close as they are… as inseparable as they are, there are days when they can’t seem to stand each other.

And unfortunately, the tension between the two of them had manifested itself on stage tonight. Of course, you’re 100% certain that none of the members of the audience had even noticed, but you had. And they sure had.

Josh had been late to the curtain drop. Perpetually late to everything else, he’d always had the decency to at least be on time for his own concerts until tonight. Jake’s shoulders had tensed practically up to his ears at the confused sounds of the crowd as they realized that they were one man short and though you couldn’t see him, you’re sure that the glare that Josh had probably received had been pointed and harsh.

And then of course Jake’s equipment had malfunctioned briefly, causing him to angrily gesture at his tech to get the problem fixed. It hadn’t taken longer than two minutes and few even noticed the mishap, but the shit eating grin that Josh had given Jake only added to his building rage.

And finally, the nail in the metaphorical coffin for the night… Jake had decided that it would be a wonderful idea to cut Josh off in the middle of one of his little bits, effectively silencing his joke with a piercing whine from his guitar.

You’d known immediately that it was over. They'd pushed each other far enough and you would be the one to suffer the (delicious) consequences. It’s just a matter of who gets to you first.

If Jake reaches you first, you know that you’re in for a night of complete sexual agony and he’ll push you to your limit until he deems you’ve begged him enough for it before finally giving you an orgasm that you’re sure to remember for months to come. And you’ll surely be waking up tomorrow with a bright red ass and a hitch in your step.

And if Josh gets to you, well… it’s harder to tell with him. Perhaps he’ll decide on a vibrator for the night – getting to watch you fall apart serving as the perfect distraction from his troubles. Or perhaps his tongue will instead be his weapon of choice, using it to make you cum until you physically can’t anymore.

Either option sounds wonderful and you can’t quite tell which one you want more. The wait will be well worth it no matter which boy is the one to reach you first.

–

The sound of the door opening stirs you from your thoughts. You turn to see Josh (the lucky winner for the night) eyeing you like you’re the most incredible thing he’s ever seen. At this point, you’re pretty sure that you are.

“Y/n.”

That’s all he says. It’s all he has to say. Even from here you can see his eyes are blown wide and his chest heaves as his eyes drink in your form. Standing there, cloaked in velvet, he’s the picture of sin. The gemstones on his suit glitter as he stands there and you meet his hungry gaze with an innocent smile.

“Hi, Joshy. Something wrong?” The lilt in your voice is sickly sweet, building up the tension that will inevitably make him snap.

He only hums – the sound rumbling deep in his chest.

“I think you know what's wrong, baby.” He whispers, dropping his hand down to palm his hard cock through the velvet.

Well shit you think to yourself, an excited thrum coursing through your veins as slick pools between your thighs. If he's starting something here… he's desperate enough to not be able to wait for the short ride back to the hotel. All the signs are pointing to tonight being one that you won't forget.

“Bad day?” You question, leaning back on the sofa where you're sitting and giving him your very best doe eyes.

He nods, a sigh escaping from between his teeth as his hand grazes his crotch– his throbbing length obvious to you through the tight material.

“Anything I can do to make you feel better?” This game is making you even wetter… the promise of what you know is to come. Without another word, you slide your body downwards until your knees hit the floor. You glance at him, patting the sofa with your palm. “Bet I can make you forget all about today, baby.”

“Fuck.” He practically moans, biting his lip as he stalks across the room to look down at you. “You gonna be my sweet girl? Help me relax?”

You nod, your mouth watering at the sight of his cock straining the fabric of his jumpsuit.

He grins devilishly, unzipping his suit and pulling the fabric down so that it rests around his thick thighs. With grace, he eases himself down to sit on the sofa, leaning back and spreading his legs.

He never wears underwear in these tight suits and you’re grateful as you sit and stare at his cock. Flushed red and rock hard, it curves upwards to rest against his belly.

Making a show of it, you hold your palm open and allow a string of saliva to drip from your mouth into your waiting hand. Josh groans at the sight and you waste no time as you wrap your palm around his length, slowly pumping him as you keep your eyes fixed on his.

A flush has overtaken his cheeks and a light sheen of sweat beads at his hairline. He's got his plump bottom lip caught between his teeth as he fights to keep his eyes from rolling back. He wants to watch you stroke his cock.

You drop your focus to his throbbing erection, flicking your wrist as you continue to tease him. You press your thumb into the spot just beneath his head and a whine escapes him. You keep the pace slow – too slow for his liking. Working him up until he can't stand it anymore.

“Don't tease, baby.” He whispers, his tone soft but demanding.

His hand covers yours, halting your movement as he gazes down at you. You know what he wants. You open your mouth and stick out your tongue, flattening the muscle as you look up at him through your lashes.

“Fuck, there she is. My wonderful girl.” He mutters, placing the head of his cock on your tongue. He doesn't push in yet, instead taking a moment to admire the sight before him: you, on your knees, tongue obediently extended and your eyes glittering in the dim light.

Slowly, teasingly, he slides his length into your mouth and you close your lips around him. Relaxing your jaw, you allow the blunt head of his length to hit the back of your throat. You gag slightly around it, exhaling strongly through your nose. Placing both of your palms on his thighs, you dig your fingers into the meat of them as you start to bob your head up and down. You keep your tongue pressed into the underside of him, drawing a loud moan from between his pretty lips.

You pull out all the tricks you know, making sure to gag every now and then because you know it drives him wild. Tears stream down your cheeks and saliva drips from the corners of your mouth and Josh is quickly coming apart beneath you.

Just as his cock begins to twitch, signaling his impending orgasm, you’re both broken from your moment at the sound of someone clearing their throat. You pull off him, wide eyes turning to be met with none other than his twin – a dark, dangerous look on his face.

“What a fucking sight.” He says with a grin, stepping further into the room.

Josh eyes him warily, his cock softening at Jake’s interruption.

“What do you want, Jake?” You ask him, wiping your mouth with the back of your hand.

“You’re kinda interrupting something, here.” Josh says snidely, sitting up straighter and pulling his jumpsuit back up to cover his cock.

“I didn’t say you had to stop.” Jake shrugs, taking a seat in the chair opposite the sofa. “Just patiently waiting for my turn, is all.”

You quirk a brow at him. He’s never done this before – neither of them have. You can sense the tension and anger radiating off Josh – and Jake seems entirely too comfortable as he sits there watching, a smug little smirk on his face.

“Wait somewhere else, then.” Josh demands, sitting up straighter and glaring at his brother.

Jake only meets him with a grin, sitting back in his seat and spreading his legs to get more comfortable.

“I’m good here. Won’t take long anyway.”

Despite yourself, you huff a laugh at his joke and then it's your turn for Josh to glare at you.

“Fuck off, Jake.” Josh tells him, jerking his head for the door. “Be fucking thoughtful for once in your life.”

Jake sits forwards suddenly, placing his elbows on his knees and narrowing his eyes.

“That’s rich coming from you, brother. Easy for you to say when you always get your fucking way.”

“That’s not true and you know it.” Josh snaps, eyes fiery.

Jake scoffs.

“Fucking diva.”

“Asshole.”

“Boys.” You cut in, wiping your palms on your thighs. “Enough. I’m not doing anything with either of you if you’re going to act like children. You,” you glance at Josh, “now you know that you can be controlling and nitpicky sometimes.” Josh’s eyes narrow at you and he opens his mouth to protest but you start in on Jake instead.

“And you” You glare at Jake, washing the smirk off his face. “You know that you like to stir shit up and make people mad on purpose because you think it's funny. You both have been acting unreasonable all day and you will not be using me as a piece in your little games with each other.”

Josh looks suitably chastised and Jake too has the decency to look a little guilty. You rise from your place on the floor, knees protesting slightly. Both of their brown eyes track your movements, their facial expressions exactly alike. Fucking twins you think to yourself.

“Can you please make him leave?” Josh begs, pleading with you with his eyes and a tiny pout on his lips.

“No. I’m the one who’s leaving. I’m not fucking either of you until this” you gesture between the two of them, “gets resolved. You both know what room I’m in. Get your shit together and figure it out.”

With that, you stalk confidently across the room, throwing open the door and making your way to the exit of the venue. Just as you round the corner, faintly you can hear Josh’s voice – angry and high pitched, “You couldn’t even let me have one fucking moment with her, could you? You asshole!”

Rolling your eyes, you call an Uber and wait for it to take you back to your hotel.

⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽ ✺ ☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅

You take a nice, hot shower as soon as you get back. You take your time, allowing yourself to relax and forget about your idiotic twins. Once you get out and dry off, you check your phone to see a text from Jake.

I’m sorry.

You just giggle at the message. You know he’s never being malicious. But he does enjoy stirring shit up sometimes without really thinking about the consequences. You figure you’ll leave him on ‘read’ for now so he can sit there tonight and stew for a little bit.

Just as you turn it off, the screen lights up again with a text from Josh.

im sorry baby

You figure you can answer him. He hadn’t been the one to try and involve you in their pissing match anyways. You send him a quick ‘It’s okay.’ before turning your phone off for good. Once changed into a pair of comfortable cotton panties and a tank top, you slip under the covers in the hopes of getting some good sleep.

–

A loud knock wakes you.

Sitting up, you rub your eyes and try to get your bearings. You’d been sound asleep.

Another knock against the door.

“Fuck, coming!” You call, climbing out of bed and making your way to the door, fully expecting one of the twins to be waiting on the other side.

The door swings open and you stop dead in your tracks. Both twins stand across the threshold, matching twinkles in their eyes.

“Hey, angel.” Jake says kindly, as if both of them showing up at your door in the middle of the night is perfectly normal.

“Um. Hi?”

“May we come in?” Josh asks you, grinning slightly as he takes in your state of (un) dress.

“I guess?” You step aside, allowing them both to step into the room (annoyingly in sync as they walk). You close the door and lock it behind you. “Is everything okay?”

“Wonderful, actually.” Jake says, plopping himself down in the desk chair and swiveling back around to look at you.

“You and Josh figure things out, then?”

“Yup.” Josh says, popping the ‘p.’

“Great.”

They’re both silent for a minute, making you squirm slightly under their dual gazes. They know something… or want something. You can feel it in the air. They’re up to something. Whether good or bad… you have no fucking clue.

“Is there a reason that you’re both here?” You ask, sitting on the edge of the bed as Josh comes to stand in the middle of the room.

“Yes. Though whether or not both of us stay is up to you.” Josh starts, glancing back at his twin for a moment before continuing. “See, we realized that we were both being a little overly dramatic today.”

“Which Josh started.” Jake butts in.

“Shut up, Jake.” Josh says, narrowing his eyes again and you’re worried that they’re going to start all over again. But Josh lets it slide. “And neither of us really want to give you up for the night seeing as how we’ve both had such a shit day.” He pauses and looks pointedly at Jake. “Regardless of who started it.”

“And see… we thought that maybe – just this once, neither of us should have to wait. Figured that maybe we could share you for tonight.” Jake cuts in.

“Share me?” You ask slowly, brain working a mile a minute as it tries to make sense of his words. Surely he doesn’t mean… right?

“Only if you’re comfortable, of course.” Josh says easily, hands moving about slightly as he speaks. “Or you can tell us to fuck off and we’ll leave you alone for the night.”

You swallow thickly, heart thrumming.

“Share me…” You echo, brows pinched together. “As in, you both… with me. At the same time.” You speak slowly, still trying to wrap your head around the idea.

“In essence, yes. If you’d like to.” Jake says.

You’re silent for a long moment – each of them waiting patiently for you to speak again. You’d be a big fat liar if you said that you hadn’t thought about it before. Having both of them… the ultimate sin that your mind loves to throw at you whenever you’re alone. Nights in between touring when you lay alone in bed, your own hand between your thighs to relieve the ache that the twins leave in their absence. Your thoughts – unable to choose, swirling between both of them. Their faces, the same but not, plaguing your mind’s eye and making your aching pussy soaked. Josh’s sugary words and Jake’s dirty compliments echoing through your ears all mixed up. The thought of having both of them at once – as wrong as it may be… just the thought alone usualy has you coming apart in seconds.

And now here they are, offering you your deepest desire on a silver fucking platter.

“Okay.” You breathe out, voice shaky but sure.

“You’re sure?” Josh asks, stepping towards you and brushing his fingertips down your cheek. “It’s your choice.”

“You won’t hurt our feelings by saying no.” Jake adds, smiling ever so softly at you.

“And I’m saying yes.” You tell him with all the confidence that you can. Because you do want this. More than anything. You want to be fucking ruined.

And yet… you’re not sure where to start. This is new territory – one that feels as though it’s too good to be true. Perhaps it is.

“I believe I interrupted something earlier.” Jake says, once again leaning backwards in his chair. “Perhaps we can start by letting you finish what you started.”

Jake must have sensed your hesitance, deciding instead to tell you where to start. You’re infinitely grateful for him and his ability to sense when you need guidance.This is familiar for you – letting him take control. It’s natural the way his velvet voice tells you what to do. It makes this easy.

You nod, gaze sweeping to where Josh stands, his face eager as he watches you slide off the bed to come and stand before him.

“On your knees for me, sweet girl.” Josh whispers, easing his sweatpants off his hips and then hooking his fingers in the elastic of his boxers and pulls them down as well. He’s already hard and leaking, probably aching to be touched after being interrupted earlier. Slowly, you ease down onto your knees.

“Suck his cock, angel. Make him feel good.” Jake’s voice is smooth as whiskey, just barely above a whisper.

You do as he says, opening wide and letting Josh slide his cock back into your waiting mouth.

“Shit.” He hisses, tossing his head back as his tip hits your throat. His hand comes up to tangle in your hair as he begins to thrust into you softly, giving your throat a moment to adjust to the intrusion before picking up his pace.

You can feel the wetness between your thighs as you sit there letting him use your mouth – the cotton of your panties surely completely drenched through. Something about the noises Josh is making coupled with the feeling of Jake’s dark gaze on you has you feeling like you could come completely untouched before the night is over.

The sound of a zipper being undone has you pull off Josh and snap your gaze over to Jake – Josh whimpers at the loss of contact but you’re more concerned with the sight of Jake easing his own hard cock from his pants and wrapping his fist around himself. He strokes his hard length lazily, eyes never leaving you.

“Did I tell you to stop?” He asks, a sharp edge to his voice. “Keep sucking him, angel. You look so pretty like that.”

Josh’s finger hooks beneath your chin, forcing your focus back onto him and you gasp at the sight. His eyes, normally a soft brown, are blown almost black with lust. His cheeks are flushed and his breathing is heavy as he gazes down at you.

“Focus on me.” He says softly, his thumb coming down to caress your bottom lip. He tugs at it, dragging it downwards slightly before gripping your jaw a little harder.

You take the hint and open your mouth again.

“Good girl.”

This time, you do give him your full attention as his thrusts into your mouth grow more confident. You gag around him and you hear Jake let out a quiet little groan at the sound. Spurred on, you relax your jaw even more, taking Josh even deeper.

“Oh fuck.” Josh whines, head tossed back in pleasure. “Good fucking girl.”

His cock twitches on your tongue and he pulls out, a string of saliva connecting his flushed tip to your mouth.

You pout slightly, having wanted to taste his release but he only smiles at you.

“Not yet, baby. I wanna savor this.” He caresses your jaw lovingly. “On the bed.”

You hastily comply, scrambling to sit in the middle of the large bed and looking at your twins – waiting for them to tell you what to do.

“Look at that.” Jake says with no small amount of pride in his voice as he stands up and begins to strip from his clothes before striding over to the side of the bed. You take a long moment to admire him.

You eye the way his biceps and forearms flex as he moves, your mouth waters as you admire his plush thighs, and your own thighs clench at the way the strength of his body is balanced by his curves that are so rare to find in a man. He’s nothing short of breathtaking.

“Always so eager to please. Just waiting to be told what to do.” He hums, hand still lazily stroking his leaking cock. “Strip.”

“That’s a good girl.” Josh mutters, watching you with hungry eyes as you pull your tank top over your head and slide your soaked panties down your legs, kicking them to the floor.

Josh, the only one still clothed, begins to strip himself – but your focus is ripped from him as Jake comes to stand at the edge of the bed. He grips your calf in his strong, calloused hand, using it to yank your body around and onto your back. There’s no finesse to his movements as he manhandles you into the position he wants, the hunger in his eyes infinitely clear.

Once on your back, Josh climbs into the bed between your thighs. He settles his weight between them, using his palms to spread your legs wider and exposing your glistening folds. His back muscles flex as his lithe form settles, his amber eyes glittering up at you.

“She’s dripping.” Josh murmurs, tongue darting out to lick his plush bottom lip. “Stunning.”

You whine, inching your hips towards him slightly, your core aching to be touched.

“Desperate little thing.” Jake’s velvet voice rings out through the room, his hand coming down to tangle in your hair. He stands at the edge of the bed, his hard cock merely inches away from where your head hangs off the edge.

Another pulse of need rocks through you as your brain catches on to the possibilities that this position grants you. With Josh nestled between your thighs and Jake’s aching member so close to your mouth, you have no doubts about where this is going.

As if in answer to your sinful thoughts, Josh swipes a finger through your folds, just barely brushing against your swollen clit and making you jolt.

“Josh, please.” You whine, spreading your legs wider for him – begging him silently to give you more.

“She just loves to be eaten out, don’t you?” Jake murmurs, looking down at you squirm on the bed. “Go ahead, Josh. Give her what she wants.”

Josh relents, delving into your core and circling your bundle of nerves with his tongue. The feeling is sudden – aggressive even, and the stimulation makes you cry out loudly. He hooks his arms around both of your thighs as he begins his assault, using his talented tongue to completely unravel you.

Jake, never one to let the spotlight last on Josh for too long, taps the head of his cock on your lips. Without hesitation, you open your mouth and let him slide his member between your lips. With your neck hanging downwards, he reaches all the way to your throat with ease. You moan and swallow around him, making his composure crack slightly as a groan escapes him.

“Fuck. Perfect little mouth.” He praises, beginning to thrust delicately into you. “Tap on my thigh and I’ll stop.” He says through clenched teeth and all you can do is moan around his cock in response.

Josh’s slender fingers suddenly join in the mix as he plunges them into you – curling them in a way that makes your legs feel like jelly as he keeps lapping at your clit with your tongue. He moans as he does so, his hips rutting into the mattress below him as he pleasures you.

If your mouth wasn’t otherwise occupied, you’re sure that you’d be screaming from the pleasure. Between Josh’s menstrations and the sound of Jake’s breathy moans as he fucks into your mouth, your orgasm is already rapidly approaching.

Your arms thrash about widely, finally coming down to fist into the sheets as the crest of pleasure builds within you. Josh is unrelenting, using all the things that he knows makes you fall apart. Jake is faring no better than you, his face twisting and contorting in pleasure.

“Come on, Y/n. Be a good slut and cum, baby.” He encourages, voice shaky with his own pleasure. “Enjoy it. You’re not gonna get another one for a long while.”

With that, the band snaps and your orgasm rips through you – drenching Josh’s face as he works you through it. Jake pulls from your mouth, allowing you a chance to get a full gulp of air as you writhe beneath them.

Josh sits up, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand and grinning from ear to ear.

“Tastes like candy.” He says, licking his lips as he gazes at your spread out form.

All you can do is lay there stunned for a moment as you recover, chest heaving.

“She’s a sight for sore eyes.” Jake murmurs, caressing your jawline with his pointer finger. “Bet that pretty pussy is just aching to get fucked, isn’t she?”

You nod, body already aching for another orgasm.

“Does my beautiful girl want my cock?” Josh asks, gripping your ankles and pulling so that your head now rests fully on the bed.

Just as you open your mouth to reply, Jake cuts in with a dangerous lilt to his voice.

“Don’t assume, brother. Maybe she’d prefer someone else’s.”

“Doubtful.” Josh snarks, glaring daggers at his twin.

“Fuck, stop.” You breathe out, sitting up to glare at both of them. You try to keep your face stern, but the thought of both of them arguing over who gets to fuck you has more slick pooling between your thighs. “No arguing.”

“Your choice then, baby.” Josh grins, a smug smile on his face as if he already knows your answer.

But in truth, even you don’t know. In fact, you have half a mind to let them continue arguing if only to further fuel the fire between your legs. But you figure that encouraging them would only end in all out warfare. Instead, you just grin at them, a wonderful idea coming to life in your mind.

“Jake.” You start, turning to meet his dark eyes. “Get on the bed.”

He grins and complies, eyes glittering thinking that he’s going to get his way. He always does when it comes to the bedroom, but tonight you want to challenge him – remind him and Josh who’s really in charge here.

Jake crawls over to you, a dominant air about him as he moves to smother your body with his own. But instead of allowing it, you press your palm into his chest and push – shoving his back roughly into the headboard.

Air escapes his lips in a shocked huff as he stares at you – completely taken off guard. Josh, seeing his expression, laughs quietly.

“Angel, what-”

You shush him.

“Quiet.” You glance between him and Josh. “You both said that I’m in control, didn’t you?” You ask, though it’s not really a question. You all know the answer.

Jake nods and Josh whispers a quiet ‘yes.’

With a grin, you turn your eyes to face Josh, his lips parted and eyes watching your every move – just waiting for you to tell him what you want.

Without a word, you nudge Jake’s legs further apart before settling yourself on your knees between them. His chest moves up and down rapidly as he looks up at you. Though he’s letting you call the shots, you’re sure that you’ll pay for it some other time. But for now, you’re going to enjoy it.

“You know, Jake…” You murmur, sweeping your palms up his thighs and feeling the muscle twitch beneath your fingertips, “You love calling the shots. Maybe even more than Josh does.” You drop your hand to play with his cock – lightly pinching his tip between your fingertips and making his hips buck upwards off the bed. “I feel like maybe it might be time for a taste of your own medicine, yeah?”

A delicate, almost silent whimper escapes him. It’s so quiet that you might have thought you imagined it… but the way his cock twitches and his chest heaves gives him away.

“Josh?” Josh, sitting silently and watching you, perks up as you finally turn your attention back to him. “Come here, baby. Right behind me.”

Josh complies, crawling over behind where you sit between Jake’s thighs. Without a word, you slowly ease your chest downwards, spreading your own thighs and allowing your ass to stick up invitingly in the air for Josh. You wiggle your ass and a shaky exhale punches out of him, his hands coming to rest on your hips.

As he does so, you sweep your gaze up to meet Jake’s eyes – his pupils blown wide with want. Opening your mouth, you teasingly lick up his shaft, swirling the tip of your tongue around his head, before pulling your mouth away again.

“You don’t get to come until I say. Understand?”

He nods and you wrap your arms around his thighs and dig your fingers into the soft flesh.

“Words.”

“I understand, angel.”

Tossing your head back over your shoulder to look at Josh, you ease your hips back towards him again.

“Let me fuck you, pretty girl.” He begs, his hard cock pressing into your ass cheek as he waits for your permission.

“Go ahead, Joshy.” You tell him, keeping your voice nice and sweet just like he likes. “Make me feel good.”

You descend your mouth back onto Jake’s aching cock as Josh enters you with one long thrust. You moan, causing Jake to groan at the vibration.

“Fuck, just like that.” Jake moans, his hand coming up to grip your hair but you swat it away. You want to enjoy the control for a while longer.

Josh’s hips slam into yours rhythmically, his pace slow and precise. With each glide of his cock against your walls, his head nails that special place inside of you. It takes all of your focus to keep bobbing your head up and down Jake’s length, making sure to keep your tongue pressing up into him – making him writhe and moan as he fights to keep himself from rutting his hips up into your mouth.

“Baby,” Josh moans, his voice sounding wrecked as his hips increase their speed. “Fuck, I can feel you fluttering around me.”

The wet sound coming from between your thighs coupled with the sound of Josh’s skin hitting yours and the sound of your mouth moving up and down Jake’s cock makes a delightfully symphony of pure lust and sin. You know already that this night will forever be cemented in your mind for years to come. You will never be able to think of it without growing wet. Josh’s cock is stretching you so wonderfully and Jake’s pretty noises are making your clit throb.

Saliva dribbles out of the sides of your mouth, drenching Jake’s cock and just by the sound of him alone you can tell that he’s close. Josh’s pace is beginning to grow frenzied, his breaths coming out in tiny little moans as his own orgasm approaches. Hearing both of them, Jake’s hot, aching cock twitching on your tongue, Josh’s cock hitting all the right places… it’s like every one of your senses has been overtaken with them. Their sounds, the feel of them. Fuck it’s the best feeling in the whole fucking world. And as much as you don’t want this to end, you just can’t fight your orgasm anymore.

You cry out around Jake’s cock, throat constricting around him as your release rips through you. Josh is a moaning mess as his own orgasm overtakes him, his cock painting your walls as he buries himself inside of you. His hips keep going, overstimulating himself with your clenching pussy as he fucks you through your orgasm.

Finally he pulls out, murmuring praises for you as he tries to calm down.

Through the haze of pleasure clouding your mind, you register Jake’s cock twitching on your tongue. He needs to cum, his whines echoing over the roaring in your ears as he holds himself back, waiting for your permission.

You pull off him, robbing him of his finish and a feral growl escapes him at the loss. You’ve enjoyed not giving him what he wants and the power has gone to your head it seems. But you’ve pushed it too far.

Faster than what you thought possible, Jake sits up and fists your hair in his grasp. He yanks backwards, exposing your throat for him and you can’t help but moan.

“Brat.” He whispers, leaning in close to you. His eyes look over your shoulder to Josh, who’s eyeing the both of you warily. “Move.” Jake demands, but Josh doesn’t do it. “Move.” He demands again, eyes blazing.

A fresh wave of slick escapes you, dripping down your thighs and drenching the bed below at the anger in Jake’s voice. Making him wait, telling him what to do… it had been wonderful while it lasted but this is the Jake that you want.

“Josh.” You whine, unable to face him fully because of Jake’s hold on your hair. “Do as he says.”

Gingerly, Josh moves up in the bed. As soon as he’s out of the way, Jake grips your waist and flips you, pushing your back into the mattress as he hovers over you. His cock, neglected and no doubt aching, grazes your stomach and your thighs clench together in the hopes of soothing the ache there.

“I agree to share you for the night, I let you call all the shots. Fuck I even let Josh be the one to fuck you…” He says darkly, his fingers gripping your sides and digging into your skin harshly. “And this is what I get in return, huh?” He laughs, sitting up just a bit to grip his cock in his hand and pump himself a few times, his precum making it easy for him. “No more nice. You’re gonna lie here,” he says, sliding his tip through your wet folds. “And you’re gonna fucking take it.”

Josh, breaking his silence at last, leans back onto the headboard and spreads his legs.

“Be good for him, baby girl. Just lie there and look pretty doing it.”

The shock of his words has you momentarily breathless but then Jake spears you with his cock, effectively silencing your thoughts of anything other than the feeling of him stretching you. You cry out, hands fisting in the sheets at your sides as Jake starts a merciless pace. His hips are like lightning, pounding into you at a pace that you’ve never experienced before.

From the corner of your vision you can see Josh, his hand dropping between his thighs, his dick rock hard yet again despite having only just cum moments before. He moans your name at the first glide of his hand over his cock, his knees falling open wider and his jaw hanging slack with pleasure.

"You look so fucking pretty like that, baby." Josh's words come out shaky thanks to the pleasure coursing through him. "Fucking hell."

Jake, his face contorted in almost a snarl, snaps his hips into yours like a man possessed. It’s so fast and so soon after your last orgasm that your pussy feels like it's on fire – icy hot sparks mixing with the pleasure as your body trembles beneath him. You open your mouth to speak – to demand more or for him to stop you have no idea, but all that comes out is a high pitched, whiny moan.

“I don’t fucking care.” Jake grits out, licking his thumb and dropping it to circle your clit. Your body jolts, the pain of overstimulation finally melting away to fiery pleasure.

Josh’s moans grow louder, the sound of his fist over his cock matching the pace of Jake’s hips – brutally fast and unforgiving. Your name falls from between his lips, interrupted only by groans and whimpers as he brings himself to the edge yet again.

"Cum for us, baby. Make a mess." Josh encourages, his hand never slowing.

"Give it to me. Come on, angel." Jake's demand is firm but his voice wavers and cracks as he holds himself back.

The band that has been building and building in your lower belly finally snaps and your whole body goes taut, your muscles contracting and shaking uncontrollably as your release washes over you. Jake’s pace finally falters, his hips stuttering and a loud, feral groan falling from between his plump lips as he finally finishes. Josh’s voice rings out as he paints his hand and belly, his own release hitting him at the sight of you.

–

As the fog of lust and wanton, filthy desire finally begins to dissipate, the three of you are left lying there trying to get your breathing back under control. As harshly as Jake had been fucking into you just moments before, he’s delicate and soft as he slowly pulls out of you. His hands caress your sides, his rough fingertips ghosting over your skin and making goosebumps rise in their wake. Josh sits up and leans forward to brush your sweaty hair from your forehead.

You smile lazily up at them, body still buzzing with pleasure but tiredness leaching into your muscles.

“Better now?” You murmur, a lazy smile on your lips.

“Infinitely.” Josh answers you, eyes glittering.

“Thank you, angel.” Jake says, pressing a feather light kiss to your belly. “So good for us.”

“The best, even.” Josh adds, tone equally soft as Jake’s kiss. “And all ours.”

“All yours.” Is all your tired brain can come up with to answer. And it's the truth. You’re theirs. Completely.

⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽ ✺ ☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅

If you would like to be added to my taglist you can add yourself here or send me an ask <3

#dee's writing #jake kiszka x reader x josh kiszka #jake kiszka x reader #josh kiszka x reader #jake kiszka smut #josh kiszka smut #jake kiszka #josh kiszka

286 notes · View notes