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shion-yu · 2 months

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A Safe Place (part 1) [Day 28]

Cliff shows up at Elliot's doorstep in the middle of the night soaked to the bone. A Cliff/Elliot sickfic heavy on the angst, also ft. Theo. For @monthofsick Day 28: Chaotic body temperature. I know, not me joining in on a writing challenge right at the end but it fit so well. 3,065 words, original work, TWs for homophobia, emeto (neither strong warnings, but the sick will get much sicker in p2).

It had been a long summer. Cliff had spent it working at Theo's law firm again, except this time he wasn't an unpaid intern but a legal secretary. It was a temporary job that they had offered him when his summer break had aligned perfectly with one of the secretary's maternity leaves and Cliff had jumped at the chance to work in such a great environment again. He was happy to see many familiar faces from last year, and to his surprise they were happy to see him too. Although he was mainly working with one of the other partners this time - not Theo - he saw the lawyer nearly every day and was relieved to learn both Theo and his partner, Al, were in good health. Al had gotten a double lung transplant that last Fall, Theo told Cliff. He and his new lungs were doing great.

"What about you?" Theo asked Cliff eagerly. "How did your first year at NYU go?"

Cliff smiled, automatically thinking of Elliot. "It was great," he said. "My classes were interesting but not too hard."

"You look happier," Theo said, surprising Cliff with how true the observation was. "Did something cause that?"

"Yeah," Cliff said thoughtfully. "Someone did."

Being apart from Elliot that summer was difficult. He missed hugging and kissing Elliot every single day. He wanted to talk to him on the phone for hours and hours just to hear his voice and fall asleep with his fingers in Elliot’s curls. But when he was living at home, Cliff knew he had to be the perfect, straight laced child he'd been raised as. In other words, he couldn't be himself. He wore business attire to work every day, but the soft sweaters and cute hair clips he'd amassed over the past year stayed packed away in his college stuff for next semester. He didn't think his parents would appreciate those particular fashion choices he'd been making.

It's not like his parents made it hard to hide things. They hardly ever asked questions, and if they did it was about grades or tuition. Cliff knew he was incredibly lucky that his parents paid his entire tuition, room and board as if it were a given. Elliot's parents weren't able to help much financially, meaning his boyfriend had to take out loans and work part time while in school. This summer he was working nonstop in his dad's auto mechanic shop, saving up money. Often when Cliff video called Elliot these days he was covered in sweat, streaks of black motor oil on his face. It seemed wrong to complain about his parents when it was thanks to them that he was only working this summer because he wanted to, not because he had to. And yet, silently, Cliff thought maybe he'd be happier if he was in Elliot's shoes - without much money but with a place he could really call home. It was a selfish, privileged thought and Cliff refused to voice it, but it creeped in each time he heard Elliot's mom call in the background, "Boys, wash up, it's time for dinner!"

Working was a blessing to Cliff, because if he'd been at home he would've been in that big, lonely house all by himself most of the summer. Being at the law firm was not only a distraction, but comfortable. Despite wearing a suit, Cliff actually felt less tense there than at his parents' house. He stayed long hours, longer than he needed to, because he preferred the sound of printers and fax machines over his parents screaming at each other downstairs. When he was in high school it seemed easier to ignore. Maybe it was because he'd had a break for so many months that returning to it seemed worse than before. Or maybe it was because Elliot never screamed at him like that, and Cliff had started to realize that this wasn't how things had to be.

Around the beginning of August, Cliff caught a cold that didn't seem to go away. At first it was just the sniffles, and then it was a cough that grew progressively deeper with each week that passed. The other employees started asking him if he was alright, and embarrassingly Theo caught him staring blankly at the water fountain one day for far too long. Cliff was so out of it that he didn't even notice Theo calling his name until the older man waved his hand in Cliff's face.

"Oh," Cliff said, rubbing his eyes to try and make his blurry vision clear up. "Sorry, I was just... Daydreaming."

"You look pale," Theo said, and before Cliff could step back Theo had placed a hand on Cliff's forehead while ignoring Cliff's protest that he was fine. "Hmm, you feel a little feverish. Why don't you go home, kid?"

"I'm really fine," Cliff said, wildly embarrassed. "It's just a cold."

Theo looked him up and down, clearly assessing how pushy he should be. "At least go take a nap on the couch in my office, you look exhausted."

Usually, Cliff would say no immediately. He wouldn't even consider showing weakness at the place he was supposed to be making a vitally good impression at for his career. But he felt weak and a little dizzy and found himself saying in a small voice, "...If you're sure."

Theo was sure. He brought Cliff to his office and shut the blinds so there wasn't much light coming through the many glass windows. He even tossed a blanket to the eighteen-year-old. "I sleep here all the time," he reassured Cliff. "You can't work if you're too tired to think. Don't worry about it."

Cliff felt guilty for taking over Theo's office, but Theo headed out for a two hour meeting and Cliff was left alone on the couch. He had half a mind to leave and get back to work at his desk now that there was no one stopping him, but just sitting there made him realize how fatigued his whole body felt. A little nap wouldn't hurt, he reasoned. A really short one. He lay down and fell asleep so quickly that he didn't even remember closing his eyes.

He woke up to Theo gently rubbing his shoulder. Cliff was confused, then his eyes widened in embarrassment and he sat up. Shit, had it been two hours already? Wait, that clock didn't say 5pm did it? - surely he hadn't slept for four hours?!

"Woah, it's okay Cliff," Theo said quickly, "You seemed really tired so I let you sleep. You should go home now, everybody's leaving for the day."

"I'm so sorry," Cliff gushed, face bright red. "I didn't mean to sleep so long. You don't have to pay me for today - please don't, actually."

"Settle down, it's really fine," Theo said in a calm voice that made Cliff remember to take a deep breath like Elliot had taught him to calm down. "We all have off days. You don't feel so warm now, so that's good. Stay home tomorrow though."

"That's totally not necessary," Cliff said, his confident tone supplemented by a very unconvincing round of dry coughs. He waved off the tissues Elliot tried to hand him. "Really, I'm fine. I've just been having some asthma since I got sick last winter, but my boy-" Cliff stopped himself, realizing he was about to out himself. "My, um, my roommate got me an inhaler so I just have to use it that's all."

"Your boyfriend," Elliot supplied gently. "It's okay to say it, Cliff. You know I have Al."

Cliff wanted to deny the comment outright. He wanted to laugh and say Elliot really was just a friend. But Theo had such an earnest expression, and he was the only successful adult man Cliff knew of who was gay. "I know, but, it's really not, not for me," Cliff found himself saying, voice wavering. "I-I have to go. Sorry I slept in your office so long," he said as he hurried out, ignoring Theo's all too kind voice calling after him. Cliff knew in a certain world that it was okay, but it wasn't his world. Not the world where he still relied on his parents.

Despite saying he'd be back the next day, Cliff did stay home that Friday. His fever was worse and he had chills that left him huddled under the covers. His mom didn't notice he didn't leave the house and he didn't tell her. She didn't need to know, just like she didn't need to know about Elliot. She had never supported Cliff in anything at all, so why... Why did Cliff feel such a strong urge to tell her?

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

On the last day of Cliff's work at the law firm, Theo told Cliff if he ever needed a reference, he'd get a glowing one from him. And if he ever needed to talk about anything, anything at all, Cliff could call him too. Cliff knew what he was getting at, and he didn't want to face it. But Theo was such a calm person that it was disarming, and Cliff asked without meaning to, "Is it worth it?"

Theo nodded. He knew what Cliff meant without specification. "Yes, it's worth it," Theo said. "Even if there's nay-sayers and you lose people, you gain much more. It's always worth it to be exactly who you are, Cliff."

Cliff went back to his parents house with those words echoing in his brain. Theo, a successful and respected lawyer, said it was worth it. He had a career and a person who loved him by his side. Was that something Cliff could have, too? Maybe it wouldn't be so bad to be honest, just once?

"Mom," Cliff said over dinner, pushing his phone over to her with a picture of him and Elliot together on the screen. "I want to tell you something. This is my-"

"Don't do this to me Cliff," his mother interrupted before he could finish. "You've already caused enough trouble. He's not - just because you have a thing with another guy doesn't mean anything."

"It's not a thing mom. I love him," Cliff found himself saying angrily. And oh, why did he say that? The first time he finally said he loved Elliot and it was directed at his mom in spite. It wasn't supposed to be like this.

"Cliff, you don't love him. You're too old to be playing this game. Now I'll forget we had this conversation. And don't tell your father."

Cliff saw red. He'd never been so angry in his life. He snatched his phone back and grabbed his wallet on the shelf by the door and went outside. She didn't follow him.

It was pouring rain. Cliff shivered, wishing he'd had the forethought to grab a coat too, but he wasn't going to ruin his dramatic exit by going back inside. Of course his mother hadn't approved. Cliff hadn't expected her to. But he'd expected her to get angry - not to dismiss him all together like he was just a kid with a big imagination. Cliff knew then that she would never really think of him as his own person, and he couldn't do anything to change that. It broke his heart.

Cliff walked for a very long time. He didn't quite know where he was going, only that he wanted to get as far away from that house as possible. He found himself at a park by the water where he beat up a couple of tree trunks that definitely won based on his bleeding knuckles afterwards. The rain didn't let up, and Cliff found himself getting progressively colder. His cough from earlier that month had never gone away and his breath began to catch on what felt like a dry patch in his throat. Cliff realized then that he'd left his inhaler at the house, too. The coughing grew more desperate until he pitched forward and vomited onto the grass he was standing on. He groaned and leaned against the nearest tree he could find, the contents of his stomach mixing with rushing rain water and swept away quickly. He continued to gag for several minutes until the coughing abated ever so slightly. He felt weak and pathetic. And also very, very alone.

He needed to get somewhere dry. Somewhere warm and safe. Cliff only had one place like that in mind. He boarded train after train, shivering in the corner like a wet dog as he made his way all the way to Long Island. He knew Elliot's address because he'd been sending Elliot mail all summer, little love notes and presents that made Cliff think of him. He never included a return address though, because he hadn't wanted his parents to see. Thankfully his phone had enough battery to direct him to Elliot's doorstep despite the wet four hour commute, and he found himself at the front door of a modest suburban home at 3:30 in the morning.

The journey had felt like a daze. Cliff had never done something so erratic, so unplanned. He raised his hand to knock before remembering what time it was, and Elliot had parents and sister who probably wouldn't appreciate him knocking. He called Elliot instead, his phone barely hanging on at 5%. He thought to himself that it seemed unlikely that Elliot would answer at this time of night. But after several rings, by which time Cliff had resigned himself to waiting for dawn under a tree, a very sleepy voice picked up.

"Cliff?"

"Elliot? Sorry to bother you," Cliff said, as if this entire situation weren't incredibly bizarre. "But I'm at your door."

There was a long pause, presumably while Elliot tried to figure out exactly what Cliff meant by 'at your door'. "Like right now? Now?"

"Yeah," Cliff said. "Do you think I could sleep over?"

"I'm coming down," Elliot said, and there was the rustling of sheets and then the thump of footsteps as Elliot ran downstairs. The front door opened and Elliot hung up. Cliff looked at him and thought he was the most beautiful person in the entire world. "Holy crap, you're really here," Elliot breathed. "God Cliff, what happened? No, come in first, you're soaked..."

Elliot pulled Cliff inside and helped Cliff take off his soaked trainers. There were traces of vomit on the front of his shirt and his fingers were still bloody. Elliot brought him to the bathroom, motioning for Cliff to stay quiet with one finger to his lips. He grabbed a towel from under the sink and wrapped it around the shorter boy, who was shivering violently from the marked change in temperature. In the bright light of the kitchen, suddenly his journey seemed a lot less valiant and a lot more stupid. "Sit," Elliot said, sitting Cliff on the toilet. "You're freezing... Can you take your temperature?”

Elliot handed Cliff a thermometer, which Cliff obediently used. After a few seconds it beeped and read ‘96.9.’ Elliot frowned. “Hot shower, okay?" Despite being woken up in the middle of the night, Elliot seemed fully alert. Cliff nodded and peeled off his wet and dirty clothes. He coughed roughly as he did so, a slight wheeze audible on the end of the exhale. Elliot patted his back with a concerned expression. "Do you have your inhaler?" Cliff shook his head no. Elliot grimaced and ran the hot water for Cliff. "You warm up. I'm gonna find you some clothes and I think there's an old inhaler somewhere in the medicine cabinet..."

Elliot moved to leave, but Cliff grabbed his arm before he could go. "Don't wake your family up," Cliff said hoarsely. "I'm okay."

Elliot looked at Cliff in concern and sighed. "Cliff, you just showed up soaking wet in the middle of the night. You live all the way in Newark. I'm gonna be a little concerned. But right now you need to warm up. We can talk later."

"Okay," Cliff said. He took the hottest shower of his life then, and it felt glorious. After a few minutes he started to feel dizzy though and sat on the floor of the tub. Elliot came back and peeked around the curtain, frowning when he saw Cliff sitting there.

"Are you awake?" Elliot asked worriedly.

"Hmm," Cliff hummed in confirmation. "Just feels nice, and I got sleepy."

"Finish up in there," Elliot said. "I've got sweats and a hot water bottle and bed waiting for you."

Cliff obediently finished showering and sat on the edge of the tub as Elliot dried him off thoroughly with two big, fluffy towels. Cliff closed his eyes and remembered how many times he'd imagined being together again over the summer. "I missed you so much," Cliff said, resting his face on Elliot's abdomen.

Elliot stilled and crouched in front of Cliff. "I missed you too," he said softly. "Now arms up." Elliot helped Cliff get into the warmest sweats that he owned and then led Cliff upstairs to his bedroom. The house was quiet, and Cliff hoped that meant he hadn't disturbed anyone else's sleep. He glanced around curiously at Elliot's childhood bedroom, which was decorated in a way that seemed so very Elliot. He smiled at the teddy bear sitting on the dresser that Cliff had bought Elliot at the baseball game they'd been to. It brought back good memories, nothing like the ones that had been swirling around in Cliff's head for the past several rainy hours.

"Bed," Elliot whispered, tucking Cliff under the duvet and several extra blankets. Cliff was still shivering, but less so now. His temperature had blown from low numbers to high and he gazed at Elliot with glassy, feverish eyes. Elliot handed Cliff a very expired albuterol inhaler, which Cliff took a few puffs of. Despite the date stamped on the canister, it still eased the tightness in Cliff's chest a little. Elliot then climbed in next to him and wrapped his arms around Cliff. The feeling and smell of being enveloped by Elliot after all this time brought Cliff to tears and he hid his face.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered. “I know I should have called.”

"It’s okay,” Elliot said. “Sleep, Cliff. We can talk tomorrow.” Knowing he was finally in the only place he truly felt safe, Cliff slept.

[Cont. part 2]

#shionwrites #novemetober rescheduled #whump #sickfic #sicknario #tw: emeto #tw: homophobia #prompt: chaotic body temperature #novemetober 2023 #oc: cliff #oc: theo #oc: elliot #fever whump #hurt/comfort #angst #hypothermia #pneumonia

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orcelito · 2 years

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Is it normal for cold to bring pain? Not in the freezing biting way, since that's obvious, but like. In the "I can't have my forearm on the cold bar or else The Aches will set in and my arm will be hurting for like all of tomorrow" kind of way?

#speculation nation #hand is okay. upper arm is okay. but not forearm.#sometimes it flares up without prompting but most of the time it's bc it got a lil too cold a lil too long #bullshit like this is what makes me really wonder about that chronic pain thing #the uhhhh fibromyalgia. that's the bitch.#that thing that's hereditary and i know my mom has it #that causes sensitivity to temperature and much pain and bad sleep and all this bullshit #like im not just making this shit up lol #i feel like having to move my arm so my forearm doesnt rest on the cold metal bar of my bedframe #to avoid the arm getting cold and developing The Aches #i dont think this is a normal thing that people have to deal with. probably.#oh god also the chronic fatigue. that's a big one lmao.#what if all my body's bullshit was summed up with Shit Pain Disease & packaged with a nice bow #except my lower back pain. that's just bc i lifted pallets thst my back didnt like and decided to make it my problem for months #sucky thing is this all takes sooo much effort to get dealt with #and i have so little time :(

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wyvernest · 6 months

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soft s3x and grey sweats

pairing: miguel o'hara x f!gf!reader

warnings: smut, tooth rotting fluff, miguel wears grey sweatpants, soft and loving sex, domesticity, unprotected piv

summary: miguel ft. grey sweatpants

A gentle drizzle splatters on the windows of your bedroom, tapping its soft, irregular crystal drops onto the glass only to wake you from your blissful nap.

You had fallen asleep with your head on his chest, invaded by the warmth of his body next to yours, the fascinating feeling of being home with him. You couldn't ever dare to ask for more than that.

With a spine-bending stretch, you step out of the cosiness of the king-sized bed following the realisation of his absence. Leaping down the stairs, you seek the comfort of him being near you like a throat-gripping vice.

You hear the water running, occasionally overlapped by clattering, dishes clanking and drawers being pushed shut.

You step out into the hall of your open-concept kitchen, linen stockings preventing even the subtlest noises of your movements from reaching him through the ambiance.

Your weight on the wooden floor is merely a gust of wind as you sit yourself into the corner of the sofa in order to watch him from up close.

You hug your legs to your chest in an attempt to adapt to the temperature change of the room, your flimsy top and panties doing little in covering your middle.

He hasn't turned to you since you hopped off the stairway. Arrogance tugs at the furthest corner of your mind after having sneaked behind his hyper vigilance, completely unnoticed. You seize the opportunity to study him in the absence of his piercing gaze fixed upon you.

Your eyes linger over the expanse of his broad back, the navy blue, short-sleeved shirt creasing in thin, cascading lines over his shoulder blades as he shifts his weight to his right, bicep bulging when he stretches his hand up into a cupboard.

You're more than delighted to note the easiness with which he attains things normally out of your reach.

Not only once did you call for his help to get you something from any place higher above you, having him stand behind you when doing so, and without fail him making sure to push his groin up against your ass in the process, prompting you to bend just slightly forward onto the board or sink in front of you before the simplest request for aid turned into you, taking him against any surface around the house.

It became quite the signal after a while. Whenever he heard you, 'Miguel! Come here for a second, baby’, his cock would fatten in advance at the sound of the command.

"Should've stayed upstairs, muñeca. I was making something for you." he snaps you out of your reverie, the sleepy raspiness in his voice deliciously running late over the last syllables of his remorseful disfavour.

While still not facing you, it turns out he was well-aware of your presence.

"Don't worry about it. I'll just watch." you excuse yourself, draping your midriff over the armrest, hands supporting your head on the soft cushions as you thaw at the sight of him cooking for you.

He returns to the kitchen island, his index finger mindlessly following the instructions he was mentally revising, before his eyes find you on the couch, scanning every patch of skin you have on display, as if sizing you up for his dessert.

He allows his vision to wash over your silky smooth thighs, your waistline that moulds into the hill of the pillows, the exact same way it moulds so erotically against him when he pistons his hips into yours.

With your pleading gaze inviting, thighs squeezed together in frustration, he is unsure of what to finish next, the pancakes, or you.

Your attention drops to the chubbed, prominent curve of his stiffening cock in his sweatpants, the shade of it nearly obscenely large, evident on the grey fabric. His hand slips down his crotch, lazily palming his dick through the material. You feel the heat pooling between your thighs, yearning growing unbearable.

"I have to let it rest. I'm all yours now." he suggests smugly, and part of you suspects that he had been needing to take you since you decided to flutter your eyes shut on the bed, arms coiled around his waist.

You shamelessly keep your eyes on target as he sets the dough bowl aside, approaching you with a heaviness in his pace that you know oh so well.

His dick twitches ever so slightly in his pants, hardening until its outline becomes lewdly evident, straining upwards into his pants in all its length and girth that ruptures you unforgivingly whenever he stuffs himself inside you.

Before he can even reach the sofa, your eager hands clutch his waist, feeling the rigid muscles underneath his shirt as you start planting gentle kisses down his abdomen, having him shudder at the contact even through the cotton fibre.

Your soft breasts meet his bulge in the process, offering nothing more than a few mere brushes that only rile him up more than he had hoped.

He drops his weight next to you on the cushions as the only way to avoid the urge to pull his cock out and shove it down your throat through your pretty, plush lips. He opts to rest his head back on the pillows, legs spread wide in front of him, taking up nearly all the space next to you.

Not a single moment is wasted before you take his cheeks in your hands, fingertips grazing his rough, barely visible stubble, pressing rushed, obsessive kisses all over his face.

You slide one leg over his, seeking the pressure of his broad, firm thigh to your clothed cunt.

His own hands are quick to grab your waist, pulling you flush against him, your chest flattened on his. His lips find yours through your loving pecks, deepening the kiss he caught you with, swiftly interrupted by a soft gasp of yours the second your ass meets his boner.

You teasingly lower yourself onto him gently, revelling in the feeling of the tip pressing harshly into the thin fabric of your panties.

Letting your hand travel down his firm chest, down his abdomen and over the sizable bulge in his sweatpants, you cup him through the material, applying just enough pressure to coax a groan out of his throat.

His wide thighs involuntarily flex on your sides and he twitches in your hand, a reminder of his force, his size in comparison to you, his ability to have you any time he wanted despite the position, despite your teasing.

His head leans back on the couch exposing his throat, eyes dazed out and fixed on the view of your breasts peeking from under your crop, visibly satisfied with the angle he found. Your boobs, round and soft, ever so inviting for him to knead in his large hands, he thinks.

Warm palms leave your hips to slide up your waist, disappearing under the cotton shirt, idly groping your chest.

You reel at the feeling of his rough, calloused hands on your smooth skin, touching and fondling in all the right places.

His knuckles protrude every now and then through the thin textile as he keeps massaging your breasts, feeling your pulse quicken with each deep breath you take.

Before you can even decide on your next move, you feel the blistering warmth of a splayed out hand on your back, propping you gently as he tilts you to the side, a familiar bow of such a dirty dance that has your thoughts melting out of your brain, your whole existential purpose being resumed to him alone in a matter of seconds.

He lays you down over the length of the couch with such care, such strength that has you submitting mindlessly, wrapping your frail arms around his neck. Legs up in the air, he has you just like he always does. Your blood boils through you, the ignition of nerves only he could ever cause.

He descends upon you, veiling your entire body in his, hands eagerly running over your body, playing you like an instrument that only sings for him, that only he can hold.

You sigh, taking in the scent of him, letting it invade your lungs like inhalants. The visceral musky cologne, with shades of a pine forest that had your thoughts run wild and senses sharpened.

Half lidded eyes accentuate his savagely, crimson irises and dilated pupils, the sheer sight of you under him never ceasing to rile him up bad enough to make him beg for your touch.

You squirm weakly; quickly enough he takes the hint and hooks his thumb around your panties, dragging them down your soft skin, impatience evident in his movements.

You feel the weight of his hard cock on your thigh, head going dizzy at the thought of its girth stretching you open, the thought of the pained groans that crawl out of his throat when he comes, his dick pulsating inside you.

He stills above you, eyes darting over your face, as if searching for something he had just remembered he was missing, a gaze condimented with adoration, curiosity, and a hesitancy you may only interpret as astonishment.

"No puedo creer que seas mía" (”Can't believe you're mine.”) he mutters, barely above a halted whisper, following the realisation of your rather perplexed demeanour when confronted with such antics. ”Makes me think that maybe", he pauses, "pushing through all the shit in my life made me worthy of you.”, he confesses, vulnerable and wounded.

You've caught smudges of this view of his before, only not this categorical. In a way, you find it quite the most heartwarming yet peculiar thing there is to know about him. He seeks the comfort of believing that all the suffering he endured meant something, a sacrificial lamb for him to ultimately earn the limitless love of your embrace, your affections and unwavering devotion.

It wasn’t pride that clawed at his memories of having conquered and survived when so many others didn’t in the same circumstances he faced. It was relief, the relief of a man that swam the ocean to find paradise.

And there you were, silk-smooth, gentle hands cupping his face with such infatuation he did not think possible, looking up at him like there wasn’t anything more beautiful in existence you would rather see.

His heart had inevitably melted into yours; now soldered together against all odds fate could bestow.

”I love you, Miguel. With or without your scars.”, you pull him into a reassuring, promise-sealing kiss, which he softly reciprocates, regaining his confidence and unyielding want.

His lips ghost over your jugular, relishing in the way your exhales halt in your throat, pausing in expectancy as his hot breath excites goosebumps over the satin skin of your exposed neck.

”I love you more.” he teases, lips latching onto your pulse point, lightly sucking hungry kisses down to the valley where your throat meets your shoulder.

Despite knowing how adamant you were about your own love being immeasurable, let alone any lesser than his, he took great joy in dramatically rivalling you on the matter, beclouding your fondness only to start a competition of who manages to sway the other with their words of pure worship and fidelity.

Whether there was another underlying reason for his racing I love you more’s, you do not know. Maybe a reminiscence of his mistrustful, defensive nature, reflecting its last slither of bewilderment into a seemingly innocent insistence that he, indeed, loved you more than you loved him.

How could he not? You had no knowledge of the things he had to do for his job, what it truly meant to risk everything for someone, to risk your life for another.

And he prefers it this way, to have you shielded away from the horror of finding yourself in that situation, from the heartbreak of even imagining the circumstances in which you may decide to give your life for him in all your passion, let alone pondering upon the choice and place the verdict upon your declaration of love, weighing it down in all gravity and seriousness of the pledge. In the depths of his mind, he dreads it, hearing you say, ‘I love you, I would give my life for you’, although he would do so for you without thinking twice.

He dreads knowing that his presence in your life could scar you so that you may have to die for him, that his soul alone could be stained in your blood, even only in hypothesis.

Therefore, he feels far more content thinking that you don’t quite love him as much, thinking that you, as perfect as you are, would not suffer should anything happen to him. That your attachment to him will only ever bring you nothing but joy.

And oh how he brought you joy. Pure bliss and paradisiacal rapture. Even more so when he held you so dearly against him, painting you in doting kisses, marks of which linger on your skin long after he’s departed.

His warm, broad hand sails down over the plushy mound of your breast, indulging in a layover just to squeeze lightly. To drift below; its tender, round shape fitting in the junction between his thumb and index finger; his palm seemingly continuing its travel down your waist before returning unexpectedly, massaging your soft tit after a run down and up your waist, making the butterflies in your belly grow agitatedly.

The meagre shudders of your body underneath his unpredictable and exciting touch, the silent whines that die in your throat as he kisses down the crook of your neck have his cock twitching in his pants, beads of precum gathering on the flushed tip, staining the material. You feel the unmistakable length of it poke your thigh, hard and thick.

"Eres tan buena conmigo" (”You’re so good to me.”) he breathes deeply, voice hoarse with restraint, lacing his words with a poised thread that wraps around your neck, earning him a fractured moan. “Tell me what you want and I’ll give it to you.”

Grabbing onto his massive shoulders for support, delighted with the way his muscles ripple under your soft hands as he continues his attack on your most sensitive spots he knows so well, you press your leg tentatively into his hard-on, an unspoken, considerate request for him to cease the teasing and chase his own pleasure.

“I want you”, you whisper breathily, finding your voice on the last word, accentuating the singularity of your need, the force with which you crave him, only him. “I love you, Miguel, I wanna make you happy.” you declare desperately, planting another suffocating kiss on his slightly agape lips, having him gasp softly into your mouth, a killer whale surfacing above the waterline for a superficial breath before diving back into the depths of the ocean.

He kisses you with such ardour, savouring the addictive taste of your delicate lips, slipping his tongue into your mouth like you hadn’t seen each other for months, like one of those desperate days in which he has his way with you right after he returns from a bone-chilling mission throughout the multiverse.

After ending the kiss with an unnecessarily harsh smooch, he draws back, making you giggle through unrelenting panting. He scans your face, absorbing the image of you, in your most defenceless self, so full of what can only be adoration for him.

He takes in your half-lidded, love-struck eyes, the look he thinks not even the bestest of painters of the world could capture on canvas. The look he thinks would be perverted in blasphemy should it be, even in attempt, recreated on any portrait, any sculpture, any photograph.

He follows the line of your jaw that cascades sharply into the crook of your neck, the only safe place for him to lay his head at night, the place he reveres to place the sweetest of kisses upon, having you either laugh or melt in his arms.

His vision then lands on your sore lips, exhaling the very air he breathes, uttering the same words that echoed in his head out in the field; ‘I love you, truly, entirely and through my whole being. With my body, heart and soul, oh, I love you.’

He dips his head down your waist in reverence, leaving gentle pecks down the line of your stomach. In any other instance, you would giddily chuckle at his ministrations, a chuckle that would soon turn into a hearty burst of laughter, as he knew just the spots to touch and tickle and make you reel in retaliation when play-fighting on a particularly lazy Sunday evening.

However, now, there was no impulse to laugh. You watch him closely as he reaches the crease of your pelvic bone, looking up to meet your gaze.

You feel your face heat up at the sight of him, a strong hand wrapped around your thigh, the other holding your middle.

Satisfied with the moans he successfully drove out of you, breaths getting heavy at the thought of how wet you have to be by now, he sits up on his knees to hurriedly haul his shirt over his head.

His dick grows harder at the familiar picture of you, laid back on the sofa, eyes glazed with drunken want and the remembrance of his feverish touch on you.

Letting your hands roam his chest and firm abdomen while he disposes of the shirt, you curl your fingers into the waistband of his sweatpants and boxers, carefully dragging them down his bulky thighs, eyes widening as his cock springs upwards from the grey fabric, hitting his stomach before ever-so-slightly bending to the right under its generous weight.

You let yourself fall back into the cosy corner of the couch, parting your legs with lascivious speed while watching him stroke his now glistening cock, eyes trained on yours.

A vigorous, bulging forearm anchors next to your head, the other guiding himself inside you. His mountainous shoulders block any view of the room aside from him, and you obey the impulse to run your hands over his biceps, his pecs, his jaw.

You draw in a sharp breath at the contact of his fat tip on your wet folds, rubbing into the dampness at the entrance before breaching you.

You whimper softly, trying to adjust. No matter how many times you have sex, it always takes you time to adapt to his size, to fit him inside you to the hilt.

His forehead rests against yours as he pushes further in, a gentle hand coming to collect a few unruly strands of hair from your face. It stops to cup your fiery, rosy cheek, his thumb grazing your dainty skin protectively, soothingly, before his arm docks symmetrically to the other, beside your head to balance his weight on top of you.

Your tear-welled eyes flutter shut, the dip between your brows deepening and rising into an unspoken plea for a one-second pause. He stops, knowing of your struggles despite your fervent insistences that he may always bottom out regardless of your aches.

He cannot bring himself to cause you discomfort in any way, even under the greenlight of your sincere consent.

“I know, love, I’m sorry.”, he pacifies you, and you’re overwhelmed by his attentive care, starting to rain messy, fatigued kisses over each patch of skin on his face within reach. He returns the gesture in earnest, covering your features in slow smooches.

It calms you, allowing him to push all the way inside your tight cunt, grunting into your temple as you tense around his shaft the moment his tip presses against your cervix.

A loud sigh that swiftly leaves your agape mouth tells him to proceed. His hips start gyrating languidly, his dick exits you only halfway, coated in your juices, before driving back in with a quiet squelch. You throw your head back on the pillows, legs coiled securely around his waist as he makes love to you, laying you onto a cloud of pleasure.

"Ugh, oh-," he groans, his voice deep and rugged, mirroring his own mind-numbing bliss, “you feel so good”. With his head now leaned into your chest, his heavy breaths are hot on your skin, timed with the drive of his hips into yours.

He starts going faster, yet the force of his thrusts still soft. The second he finds the puffy nub of nerves that snaps firecrackers in your lower belly, you grab at the mattress, gasping and moaning weakly. Muted whines are put out in your throat as you close your mouth to swallow a kiss your body had craved to give him.

His shoulders flex under his weight as he picks up more speed, nearing his high and finding the rhythm you know only leads to those desperate grunts that have you coming only from their sound alone.

He pushes into his thrusts, rubbing the coarse hair above the base of his cock on your clit. Your back contorts and arches in response, gifting him an even more delicious angle for the precise rolls of his hips.

You choke on a pained scream that dissolves into your limbs as you come hard, your orgasm washing over you in drumming tidal waves, crashing onto you with every drive of his fat cock into your soft, drenched cunt.

"Oh-- ugh, yeah- so good," he groans into your rose, kiss-marked neck, seemingly taken aback by the force of his own euphoria, as if he had been expecting a gentle current of ecstasy as result of his intendedly soft and gentle session of lovemaking, instead being met a fierce jolt of elation. He stills, holding a breath from erupting out of his throat into a shaky moan.

The bridge of his nose is pressed perfectly into your neck, a sculpture-worthy puzzle of two souls sewn together. His hot palm seeks the feeling of your smooth skin, landing shy of your waist, holding you against him with the firmness of a man who heeds every longing you had ever voiced, who heeds the closeness you had always coveted as you rode the rapids of your orgasm.

The pressure hammers into you in aftershocks, hauling you back down in fading flutters, pulsing into your lower belly as he tenses, pushing his hips flush against your ass with one final blow, releasing into the warmth of your cunt.

You clench faintly at the feeling of his fat cock spasming and twitching inside you, catching on to the last gust of your high.

He groans in oversensitivity, pulling out before carefully placing his broad hand in between your thighs, tenderly cupping your dripping pussy to prevent his come from staining the peppered grey couch. You flinch at the contact, not having fully recovered from the stimulation.

He leans into you, pressing a soft kiss to your temple. You turn to him instinctively, unable to find your voice or enough strength in your arms to do anything but gaze up at him with the face he knew so well; the euphoria-painted face you grace him with when his love overflows your body, teeming into your watery eyes.

Sitting up, he unpacks a thin, white blanket from the opposite edge of the sofa, cocooning you into the clean, fresh fabric. You hum in comfort, struggling to chase the warmth of his arms as he tucks the edges of the material underneath the contour of your body.

”Just stay here for a bit.”, he whispers into your cheek, sending shivers down your spine. “ I‘m almost done with your surprise.”

“You want me to help?” you resort to a last-chance inquiry in hopes of finding an excuse to sit beside him for longer, even in the kitchen.

He knows you’re well-intended, but decides to better value the total credit of his courteous offering.

You will most certainly keep the stakes up and stubbornly get dinner ready for him on the very next occasion you find, so he might as well echo your stubbornness and finish his task alone, meeting great satisfaction in spoiling you with the opportunity your body has given him.

“No te preocupes, (Don't worry.) I’ll manage.”

You dramatically reach for him with your extended arms as he heads towards the kitchen. He throws you a sympathetic smile before resuming his cooking, fully aware that a considerable part of him would have wanted nothing more than to rush back into your arms and spend the rest of the evening smothering you into his warm embrace, play fighting you into submitting to his self-indulgent caresses and kisses.

divider by @cafekitsune

spanish translations by @bookished 🤍(tysm!!)

50% requested by @badbitchhour (ik u wanted a wedding night but my brain short-circuited when i tried to write it, it's still coming tho!!! meanwhile made the very soft and emotional lovemaking part til i get around it and start feeling it)

a/n: don't pick on me for the extremely creative! title i wanted to make shit clear from the start. (clickbaiting)

also smut authors try not to use the same words and phrases for every sex scene without using things like 'wand' and 'shaft' (challenge impossible)

6K notes · View notes

sinfulspencer · 7 months

Text

Flashed

Prompt: It’s too hot to wear clothes at home, so Reader walks around in her underwear. Spencer loses his train of thoughts at the sight.

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Fem!Reader

Rating: mature (18+)

Warnings: light dom/sub dynamic (Dom!Spencer, Sub!Reader if you squint), dirty talking, hair pulling, light impact play, breeding kink, unprotected sex

Words: 5.0k

A.N.: Horny Spencer. That’s it. Also, this is the first official Spencer Reid fic I have written since last year. It felt so good to write for him again. Written this with a prompt from the Summer Sunshine challenge by @imagining-in-the-margins. Thank you to @reidselle and @drgenius-reid for beta-reading this fic!

MASTERLIST. REQUEST GUIDELINES. TAGLIST FORM.

When Spencer asked you to move in with him at the end of the year, he was ready to face every challenge that life would throw at him. The first fights over laundry, the first fight over whoever almost set the house on fire, the first fights over the person that was supposed to remake the bed before going to work, the first fights over whoever left the TV on before going to bed…

He was prepared for everything.

Spencer learned to cook (he wasn’t good at it, but he knew how to turn on the stove and boil some water, at least). He learned how to do laundry. He learned how to clean the floors without you falling on your own ass because he forgot to tell you that the ground was wet.

But Spencer wasn’t ready for the summer.

You moved in with him during the fall season, when it was still cold outside, and it was time to drink hot chocolate in front of the fireplace. You moved in with him when you were still wearing a winter jacket, leather boots and a scarf around your neck. You moved in when the wind was so cold that you could barely keep the window slightly opened in the bathroom after taking a shower to let the steam go out.

Spencer wasn’t fucking ready for summer.

The hot weather was already taking a toll on his poor body and he hated it. Spencer despised the high temperatures because they made him sweat like a pig and he hated, more than anything, the feel of sweat under his armpits or behind his knees.

Normally, before you moved in, Spencer would spend the whole time at home completely naked or wearing only underwear. It wasn’t an everyday occurrence, but it happened quite a lot.

What was the problem, then?

Spencer used to walk around in his apartment in his underwear when he was alone, but you’re doing it while he’s in the house. He knew you paced around the house that way because you felt comfortable, but still. He was a stupid man, with hormones that rushed through his body like crazy.

You walked around your shared apartment with nothing on but a pair of panties that Spencer always wanted to rip off you and a stupid bra that made your breasts look even more delicious.

And the sight had started to take a toll on Spencer for the worst. He was constantly horny, making it difficult for him to focus on simple tasks such as cleaning the whole apartment or doing laundry.

He woke up one day and you already were parading yourself in your underwear, which made his morning wood even more difficult to take care of. He came home that same night and you were still in your underwear, which led him to forget he was supposed to grab some dinner with Luke because he ended up taking you against the bedroom door.

Spencer didn’t want you to wear clothes if you were too hot, but he also needed to learn how to keep his hands to himself whenever he saw an inch of your naked skin. He felt like a teenager, always eager to touch and ravish what belonged to him.

When Spencer tried to explain the situation to Luke, his colleague laughed right in his face. At first, Spencer was offended.

‘Why are you complaining about seeing your girlfriend’s tits? You should be happy she feels comfortable around you.’

And Spencer was happy; he truly was. He was proud to know he made you feel good about yourself and allowed you to walk around the house almost naked, but he also felt like an idiot for getting a boner whenever he thought about coming home and knowing he’d find you dressed like that.

Or better, undressed.

That night, Spencer couldn’t wait to get home and tell you that he had a birthday party to attend next week. It was Penelope’s birthday and, as every year for the past ten, she had an entire day planned for her and her friends from work. There would be a huge pool party in a small agritourism she rented for the day, followed by a barbecue and a whole garden to explore.

Spencer was excited to bring you there.

You had been dating for over a year now and you couldn’t meet his co-workers and friends because you always had meetings to attend, or shifts that were incompatible with the nights the team hung out all together.

“Y/N?” Spencer called out when he entered his apartment.

The lights in the kitchen were on and he could hear you humming to a song blasting from the speakers.

He dropped his bag on the floor and followed the sound of your voice, only to find you in nothing but your underwear. Again. You had your back turned and were swaying your hips to the rhythm of the music, making Spencer smile at the sight. Though the music was loud and almost hurt his ears, he was willing to tolerate the loud volume if it meant he could observe you in your element for hours on end.

He was so enamoured with you even though you weren’t doing anything in particular. He fell harder for you everyday just watching you exist, breathe and live on your own.

But of course, the romantic thoughts in his head abruptly stopped when you felt his presence in the room and you screamed.

“Fuck! What the fuck, Spencer?!”

He didn’t want to laugh at your terrified expression, but a chuckle fell from his lips.

“Did I scare you?”

You roll your eyes, dropping your apron on the counter. “No. I screamed because I was learning how to fry scream. Fuck yes, you scared me.”

Spencer walked to the other side of the kitchen counter and wrapped his arms around your shoulders, pulling you into a tight hug. You smelled like apples and he could see them in the corner of his eyes, all peeled up.

“How was work? Did you get your stuff done?” you asked

Spencer nodded his head, kissing your temple without losing his grip on you. “Yes. I’m exhausted, though. I couldn’t wait to get home so I could relax and enjoy some time with you.”

You leaned forward, caressing his soft curls. “I bet you’re tired. You’ve been awake since five in the morning.”

As Spencer left the kitchen to get changed, he heard the music turning back on and he smiled. Your footsteps echoed in the room, and he smiled because he knew you were dancing to your favourite songs again. But still, there was a big problem that needed to be solved at that instant.

You were still in your underwear and of course, he had noticed that. How couldn’t he?

Spencer saw you for less than three minutes and yet, the bulge in his trousers made it difficult for him to think straight. He didn’t know how it was possible for you to turn him on that much, but you did and it was starting to make things harder for him.

If Spencer brought you to Penelope's birthday party, you were definitely going to wear a bikini. And a bikini is basically the same thing as your underwear… which meant one thing.

“Oh no.”

“Are you talking to me?”

Spencer turned around, attempting to cover the issue between his thighs with the jacket he brought to work that morning.

“Uh, no love. No, I was just thinking about… something.”

“Care to share?” you asked with an innocent smile.

Spencer knew that smile was actually innocent; you had no ill intentions, but his brain was starting to play games with him. He was so turned on that Spencer thought every little microexpression on your face and every move you made were just actions to tease him and work him up.

They were not. Or maybe they were.

“Sorry, uh… Yeah. Penelope invited me to her birthday party this Saturday.”

Your face enlightened at his words. “Oh! That’s so nice!”

“She asked me to bring you, too.”

“I don’t like the tone you just used. If you don’t want to bring me, that’s…”

Spencer widened his eyes, realising that his words might’ve sounded rude. “No! I’m excited to let you meet all of my friends and co-workers, truly.”

“Then, what is it? I know there’s something that bothers you.”

You sat on the bed with your legs crossed, waiting for Spencer to continue but, he didn’t dare to move. If he placed his jacket on the bed, you would’ve noticed the painful tent in his trousers. If he didn’t move, you would’ve asked him why he wasn’t taking off his clothes and putting on more comfortable ones.

Too many thoughts were running wild through Spencer’s brain and it was difficult for him to gather them all, cast aside the naughty ones and focus on the more normal ones.

It was tough not to stare at the curves of your breasts and how he could see the shadow of your nipples hidden behind the fabric of your bra. He has spent so many hours just licking and sucking your skin around your breasts, that he can still taste you on his tongue if he focuses hard enough.

“Penelope has rented a whole place for all of us.”

You hummed, tilting your head. “Sounds really nice. Is there a swimming pool involved? Is that why you’re worried?”

Spencer bit his bottom lip, forcing himself not to stare at the way your hair fell over your shoulders and covered the laces of your bra. A few days ago, he used his teeth to remove that same bra. It was a struggle not to think about that night, and he pathetically failed.

“I’m sure the place she rented is clean and…”

As you started to speak and comfort Spencer over his fear of germs, his mind wandered elsewhere. You moved to the centre of the bed to be closer to him and laid on it, with your arms behind your head and your body all stretched out.

Your bra barely covered your full breasts and your thighs were much more visible, with all the little bruises still peppering your skin. The same bruises he caused two days before. The same bruises you begged him to create on.

Spencer’s brain was starting to get even foggier.

“Are you even listening to me, love?”

You snapped your fingers in front of his face and Spencer dropped the jacket on the floor, quickly bending over to pick it up. Of course, he was listening to you, but he was just… thinking about something else while you were talking.

“Hm.”

“I’ll take that as a no.”

Spencer turned away from you and looked down, frowning. His bulge was still there and getting more painful, but how in the world was he going to face you and ask you if you could help him out? He knew you would, in a heartbeat, but he felt miserable.

How could he ask you to stop walking around his place in nothing but your underwear when he wanted to worship your body every hour of every day? How could he deny himself the sight of your stunning body?

His eyes went straight to your breasts and of course, you noticed it.

“Spencer!”

“Hm? What’s up?”

“My God.” - you started to say, sitting up on the bed - “You’re distracted! You can’t even finish a sentence or listen to me.”

Spencer hummed again, forcing his eyes to stay on your face. Unfortunately, they slipped down to your breasts once again - but that time, Spencer didn’t deny it. How could he? He had been so obvious since he arrived home, but you thought to yourself that maybe you were imagining things.

Or you were too horny, but you weren’t. He was.

“I’m sorry, it’s just…”

“You’ve been staring at my breasts since you saw me in the kitchen.” you stated

Spencer sighed, turning his back on you again. “I’m sorry. They’re distracting.”

“Look at me, love.”

He lingered for a few seconds, covering his face with both hands. He didn’t want to turn around because he knew you would’ve teased him for hours on end, but it truly wasn’t his fault. It was his brain that tricked him into staring at your boobs and remembering all the things he did to you the night before and all the other days.

It wasn’t his fault he had an eidetic memory and he could replay all your moments of intimacy together each time he wanted. How you looked when he kissed your neck, how you moaned when his tongue swirled around your nipples…

“You can look at them whenever you want, you know.” - you tapped his shoulder, kneeling behind him on the bed - “I’m your girlfriend, aren’t I?”

“That’s not the point, Y/N.” - Spencer replied, forcing himself to turn around - “You’re so distracting, I can barely think when you’re there… dressed up like that.”

You raised your brows. “Do you want me to change?”

“No!” - he exclaimed, before clearing his throat - “I mean… maybe. I don’t know, but I can’t keep getting hard because you’re half-naked.”

“What’s wrong with being attracted to me, love?” you asked with your arms crossed.

“There’s nothing wrong with that, you know, but it’s hard to be around you when all I think about is how I want to just…” - he took a deep breath before shaking his head - “I need to behave, I’m sorry.”

There was a moment of silence where you pondered over his words. He seemed so miserable and all because he was so attracted to you that he could barely think, that he could barely remember that he had other things to do other than you.

That felt incredibly hot.

Leaning forward, you placed a hand on his hip. “I want to hear what you’re thinking about right now.”

Spencer shook his head, covering your hand with his. “It’s too early.”

“It’s never too early to make love to your partner, Spencer.”

You were right, he knew that, but he also knew that if he kissed you and took you right there, he would’ve spent the whole night just trying to do it over and over until you were too tired to move or to keep your eyes open.

Spencer sighed and looked down at you. “You drive me crazy.”

“And what’s the harm in that, love?” you asked innocently

He moved his hands under your neck and forced you to look at him, gripping your chin with his fingertips. You went quiet, trying to decipher the expression on his face, though the tight grip was already a good hint of what he was thinking about.

“No harm.”

“Exactly, so… What’s stopping you?”

Spencer knew nothing was stopping him from pressing your body onto the mattress and pounding into you. He had every right to do so because he knew you wanted it as much as he did, but still. There was an issue to fix and he refused to let his hormones get in the way, once again.

But maybe just this time, Spencer thought.

You leaned your head against his palm, and closed your eyes when his fingers brushed over your cheek. He could look at you for hours, admiring how you basked in the sweetness of his touch that you found so comforting.

“Nothing’s stopping me.”

You sighed, running your hands over his chest. “Good.”

Spencer unbuckled his belt and the metal clanking of it falling onto the floor brought an eager smile to your lips. Of course you smiled, because you were about to get exactly what you wanted since he came home.

Little minx, Spencer thought.

“You don’t need to hold back from what you truly desire, Spencer.”

He drank up your words like they were the sweetest honey and he sighed. You were right; he didn’t need to stop himself from putting his hands over you if you wanted to be touched as well, but still.

“If you want to rip my underwear off me, you can do it.” - you muttered, slowly opening the buttons of his shirt - “If you want to fuck me like this, while I’m almost naked and you’re still dressed, you can do it.”

Spencer watched as your skilled fingers pushed his shirt off his shoulder and sighed, because there was nothing else he could do or say at that moment. You had him wrapped around your tiny finger and you knew it, which was why he loved you so much. You could’ve snapped your fingers and he would’ve dropped to his knees for you.

“I just.. I just need to have you. At all times.”

“You can.” - you replied with no hesitation, only firmness in your voice - “I am here for your pleasure. Always.”

Spencer released a long sigh. “I know. I’m so lucky.”

Pushing his trousers down his legs to reveal his soft skin, you looked up at him with your lips turned into a wicked grin. You could see the emotions rapidly changing behind those eyes: lust, frustration, love, annoyance and desire. That was exactly what you wanted: you craved to drive Spencer crazy and you needed him to lose his mind over you.

It made you feel powerful.

“You’re so pretty when you’re desperate for me.” you said

Spencer leaned into your touch when you reached out for his face. “So are you, princess.”

But the tender moment was gone as fast it came, because there was no time to be nice to one another. Spencer wanted to wreck you and you wanted him to do as he pleased; you wanted the pleasure to consume him, and so it did.

Spencer kissed you for the first time since he came home and, of course, he had no time to be nice. His tongue pushed into your mouth without warning, but you let it as you laid down on the bed with the man on top of you. The kiss expressed all the frustration that had built within him ever since he came home and found you in the kitchen, wiggling your ass to the music and singing at the top of your lungs.

His teeth dug into the soft flesh of your bottom lip and you whined, almost tasting blood on your tongue.

“Let me be rough tonight.”

You grabbed him by the chin, staring right into those honey-coloured eyes. “Perhaps I was not clear with my words a moment ago, Spencer. I want you to do whatever you want to me.”

Spencer groaned at your words and pushed any rational thought out of his mind, allowing the frustration and profound desire felt for you to drive him. His pupils were blown wide with unbridled lust making you shiver, bringing the heat between your thighs where you so desperately wanted to be touched.

Spencer kissed your mouth before moving down to your throat, attacking it with bites and gentle licks that made you whimper.

“I’m going to ravish you tonight, my princess.” - Spencer whispered to your ear, running his hands all over your breasts - “And you’re going to take my cock like the good girl I know you are for me, yeah?”

“Yes. Yes, love.”

He moved his hands to your face, kissing the tip of your nose. “Hands and knees.”

You scrambled to turn around, struggling to move as his arms didn’t give you as much space as you needed. Spencer, ever so helpful, pulled your hips up when you managed to roll on your tummy.

“Good girl, that’s it.”

You could feel his cock against your ass when he leaned forward to bite your shoulder and you moaned, closing your eyes. His nails dug into the soft flesh of your back, dragging your panties down your thighs before throwing them on the floor.

Spencer’s mouth wandered down your neck, leaving a trace of kisses that started from your right shoulder and went down to your ass. He nibbled at the soft skin right below it before biting down, hard enough to draw blood. You yelped at the feeling, but didn’t complain as your hands scratched the blanket.

Spencer pulled away for a second and traced the small wound with the tip of his index, earning a hiss from you. It hurt, but you wanted it to hurt - you promised you’d bleed for him, and bleed you did.

“Good girl. So pretty for me.” - Spencer whispered, but you were more focused on the sound of a bottle of lube being opened - “I’m sorry, I’m so impatient to have you. I wish we could take this slow, but I can’t.”

“It’s okay, I know you’re desperate.” - you mumbled, moaning softly when his fingers breached your entrance - “It’s fucking cold.”

He chuckled at your reaction, smearing the lube all over your already wet slit. “Oops”

When you were ready, Spencer found no resistance as he slowly pushed the tip of his cock inside of you. He watched the way your walls welcomed him in and revelled in the sweetness of your whimpers and whines when you felt him. Spencer waited, watching you as you struggled to stay still for him.

“Please, just… Get inside, for fuck’s sake.”

“Oh? Wanna take it all at once, my princess?” - Spencer asked, running his left hand through your hair - “Are you desperate for my cock? Then, fucking have it.”

In one hard thrust, Spencer bottomed out inside of you and you fell on the bed with your face in the pillow. You trembled when you finally felt every inch of his cock inside of you and you thought you were ready to fall off the edge in less than a minute.

You were desperate for him every single time you had the chance to make love to him.

“Take it, princess. You wanted it and now you have it.”

Spencer watched you as you arched your back, tightening your grip on the bed sheets. A chorus of curses and moans flows from your lips as you try to get back on your knees, but his thrusts are too quick and harsh to let you get in position. So, again, you fell down with your face in the pillow.

The pleasure quickly expanded through your body as Spencer never slowed down the pace of his thrusts, basking in the gentle sounds of your moans. His right hand travelled down to reach your ass, and before you felt it, you heard it - there was a brief moment of silence, followed by a loud smack and then a deep heat diffusing over your skin.

It had been so long since he spanked you, but with that position, you couldn’t blame him.

The sensation heightened the pleasure within you.

“Oh, fuck!”

Spencer moved both his hands on each side of your head and leaned forward, keeping his thrusts quick and regular. You could feel his body tense each time you tried to push back into him, to fuck yourself onto his cock.

You were already close, desperate to ride that delicious end.

“Please, more.” - you cried out again - “Please, I’m close.”

“Don’t you dare.” - he bit your earlobe - “Don’t you fucking dare come on my cock now.”

You whined at his order, not sure how you would be able to hold it and be a good girl for him. It wasn’t easy to hold an orgasm, especially if Spencer never stopped fucking into you with all the energy he had in his body. You were so close, you were right there but Spencer stopped his movements - and suddenly, you felt a warm tear slip down your cheek.

A single tear of frustration.

Spencer forced you on your back, pushing you onto the mattress before sliding his cock back inside of you.

“I want to see your pretty face when you come, princess.” - Spencer whispered, lifting your right leg and wrapping it around his own waist - “I want you to look at me as you come undone on my cock.”

His pace is as rough as before and you felt more tears spill from your eyes. Your hands quickly went behind his neck as you rolled your hips, a pathetic attempt at fucking yourself back onto his cock to feel more and more.

You couldn’t form a coherent sentence. The only word that fell from your lips was a strained ‘yes’ that echoed in the room, encouraging Spencer to go harder and faster, to tear you down piece by piece.

And he looked fucking stunning as he did so.

His lean body, his muscles were tense, a single strand of hair falling over his forehead and his tongue poking out in concentration… You wanted to get those details tattooed on your brain, on your body, every-fucking-where.

“Such a good girl for me, huh? My pretty princess.” - Spencer whispered, looking down at you - “Always welcoming me with nothing on, knowing how crazy that makes me.”

Your lips opened slightly, more whimpers flowing from them.

“Do you know how difficult it is to get out of here and not remember all the times I’ve fucked you against the door?” he said, his voice rough.

You shook your head, not sure if you understood what he said.

“Fuck, you make me so horny. I fucking love your body.” - he mumbled, pressing his forehead to yours - “I always think about it and then I see dressed like that… It’s like you’re always begging me to bend you over and fuck your pretty cunt.”

You’ve always loved his dirty mouth, but that day it felt deliciously perfect. His thrusts were rough and faltering, which meant he was close to his orgasm too - you almost forgot you were close, totally enamoured by him and the way he spoke about you.

“My slutty princess.”

You nodded with a smile, drunk on your lust for him. “All yours to use and destroy.”

You felt the pleasure built up again right behind your belly button and you knew you were close again. Spencer must’ve noticed it because he kept his pace quick, never changing the angle because he felt you clench hard around him each time he bottomed out. Your thighs were shaking around his waist and he could feel your heartbeat quickening under his fingertips.

“My good girl.” - he mumbled, closing his eyes for a moment - “I can feel you’re close. Do you want to come on my cock, princess?”

He didn’t need a verbal answer, because soon your cries of pleasure were enough. You widened your eyes and threw your head back onto the pillow, crying out his name over and over as your nails dug into his shoulders. He could feel his skin breaking under your nails but he didn’t care.

Spencer was too enamoured with you to realise how painful your grip was.

“That’s it, gorgeous. You did so well.” he rewarded you with a kiss on the lips

You barely felt it, drunk on the pleasure that he fed you. Your whole body was shuddering as Spencer helped you ride out your orgasm, but the more he thrusted, the more pain you felt stabbing you. You didn’t complain, though.

You wanted it, you needed it and so did he.

“Does this pretty princess want my cum deep inside of her, hm?” Spencer asked

You weren’t sure he heard you, but you managed to choke out: “Yes. Please, please, fucking do it. Please.”

A few thrusts later, Spencer granted you your wish. His warmth flooded you from the inside as he watched the way his body become one with yours, shivering with pleasure. His right hand pressed down hard below your belly button and you winced, feeling his seed run deep if that was even possible.

It felt so incredibly good you could almost come again.

“Ah, that felt fucking perfect.”

You closed your arms around his neck and caged him against your body, so that he wouldn’t be able to run away. Not that he wanted to, of course, but.

Spencer didn’t move for at least five good minutes, struggling to catch his own breath while you stared at the bedroom ceiling with a grin on your face. You were deeply satisfied with yourself and you were sure Spencer was content, as well - though the conversation between you wasn’t over.

You knew that not putting on clothes would’ve distracted him and maybe that was exactly why you never put them on when he was around in your shared apartment. It was fun to see him struggling between staring at your breasts or at your thighs, or forgetting that he had to hang out with his colleagues because he was too busy burying his face in your cunt or fucking you against a window.

It felt good to be desired, and it felt even better knowing that it was the only thing Spencer was able to think about when he was away from you.

“You have to stop walking around our place naked.”

You put a hand on his chest, gently pushing him upward. Spencer was still lying between your legs, but he was staring at you.

“Naked? I am always wearing my underwear.” you stated

Spencer bumped the tip of his nose against yours. “Which is dangerously distracting, Y/N.”

“Oh, you’re using my name in a conversation.”

“I’m being serious, princess. I can’t get a boner whenever I’m near you.” - he explained, pressing a kiss on your jaw - “Believe me, I appreciate the sight but… My brain needs some rest. And so does my penis.”

“Okay, alright. I’ll do my best to keep my clothes on.” - I decided to give in - “After six weeks of pure hell, I think you deserve a break.”

Spencer kissed your cheek, before biting it softly. “I appreciate it, my princess.”

“But that doesn’t mean I won’t do it occasionally just to drive you crazy.” you warned him

“Oh, I’m fine with that.” - he said, rolling off your body - “But give me a heads up before doing it, okay? I wouldn’t want to come home with Luke and find you in your underwear.”

“Well… it could be fun. Maybe he’d like to join…”

Spencer covered your mouth with his’ before you could finish your sentence, but the kiss was interrupted by your loud laugh echoing through the walls.

“Alright, Luke will never see me like this.” - you gave him a peck on the lips, pushing him off you before he could spread your legs again - “This sight is for your eyes only.”

TAGLIST @blvebanisters @koukatsuki @moesdraft

BROKEN TAGS @alelaeljfj @donttrustlove

#spencer reid #spencer reid smut #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid smut fanfic #spencer reid imagines #spencer reid smut imagines #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x you #spencer reid x fem!reader #spencer reid x female reader #criminal minds fics #criminal minds fanfics #doctor spencer reid smut

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luvrxbunny · 6 months

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little spider

Pairing: Miguel O’Hara x F!Reader

Prompt: Innocence

Warnings: 18+ MDNI, reader knows nothing about sex or feelings of arousal, clothed clit-rubbing? cum in pants, small feelings of embarrassment (lmk if I forgot anything)

WC: 3.3k

A/N: sorry im late but im kinda proud of this one so i hope it was worth the wait! <3

Miguel didn’t think he’d end up in this position, nowhere in his wildest, most perverted fantasies did he think that this would actually be the outcome of him recruiting you but… here we are.

You were assigned by the higher-ups to learn from him, they thought you had potential, and honestly? Miguel hated you when he met you, he felt like they were punishing him for something, that assigning him this raw recruit was just a flaunt of power. You didn't even have a suit he had to make you one, a trial suit first, to make sure all your vitals were good, to track your movements and decide what suit material would be best- or if you would have a digital one like him.

During the weeks of his monitoring of your vitals, he began to grow a bit fond of you. You were an adorable recruit and eager to please, you were thoughtful and always gave your all, something he really appreciates. One other thing he noticed about you… your dopamine levels were elevated around him, along with your estradiol and testosterone. He ignores it when he’s writing his reports, he tells himself that he doesn’t report it because the higher-ups don't need to know, not because he knows they’d make you transfer… He should’ve requested it the first time he noticed it but the thought of you, his sweet, innocent spider, all turned on just from being around him? It ignited something in him.

He updated your suit, saying that the data he was receiving wasn't enough, he made you wear the suit as he replaced the chip and tried to hide the smile in his voice when your spine straightened under his touch. The new chip could give him real-time tracking of all your vitals, but he set his watch to alert him anytime certain hormones spiked… estradiol and testosterone. So he conducted a little experiment over the following weeks, he’d lean into you more when you speak, holding your eye contact, he even broke out the smirk he used to use on girls when he was younger, and it worked on you.

His watch vibrated every time he was near you, if he walked up to you, it started being an alert to when you were near, it’d go off before you’ve even approached him, he’d walk into a room and it’d go off before he even saw you. It started to have an effect on him, he started to feel a spark in his stomach every time it went off, every time he’d meet your eyes and you’d have that expression he’d grown to know so well. That weak, almost pleading- yet confused look in your eyes and the sheer panic before tearing them away from his. He started having to grip whatever was in his hands as tightly as he could to control himself when you’re breathing would stutter after he complimented you on your work.

He started getting hard reviewing your logs after spending the day with you, watching your heart rate stay elevated, spiking along with your hormones, he can see your breathing pattern, and how irregular it is compared to when you’re not with him. How high your body temperature was… the main areas of heat. On his more weak days, he’s gotten himself off to the diagram of you, with the burning red spot between your legs as the focus of his fantasies.

Now you’re here, avoiding his gaze as his watch vibrates like crazy. “Miguel?” He looks at you again, trying to keep his gaze neutral, hopefully, to make this a bit easier on you… and him. “Yes?”

His voice is smooth as cocoa butter and you can feel his gaze burning into you. He started this heat inside you, one you’d never encountered before. It starts when you see him in the morning and doesn’t stop until you struggle to sleep- or at least it used to. But recently it’s been non-stop, a constant distraction that you can’t pinpoint, it feels like it’s in your hips, stomach, chest, and thighs all at once. It feels like it’s in his breath when it fans over your face, it's in his eyes when they lock with yours, and somehow on his fingertips when they brush over any part of you. You’ve spent hours a night trying to figure out what you can do about it, you’ve thought about even asking Lyla but decided the risk of her telling Miguel was far too great.

This past week it’s just been building on it’s self, almost unbearable with Miguel’s new immersive training. He takes you away to some deserted, closed-off place and trains you with no distractions, giving you nothing to focus on other than him and forcing him to give all his attention to you. Miguel’s attention, his gaze is what causes the most… pain. That’s what it’s become, a dull, numb, thrumming at the base of your stomach, like an itch you can’t scratch that just becomes a nuisance. You couldn’t handle it anymore and if you asked Lyla she’d just tell Miguel- so why not just ask him directly?

So here you are, avoiding his gaze because you’ve spent the entire day with him, building enough fire inside you- you don’t need to add any more. “I think…” You take a breath and turn to him a bit before forcing the words out. “There’s something wrong with me.” He puts his clipboard down, his concern, and his thick, veiny hand that comes into view piles onto the heat over-taking your bloodstream. He takes his glasses off and sits back in his chair, reaching his leg out to pull a chair beside you closer to him. You dare a glance at him and try not to collapse at his gaze, at the way his hair moves over his face for a moment as he motions for you to sit in the provided chair.

You sigh and sit down, your legs pressed tightly together, your palms resting on your thighs and your eyes focused on the back of your hands. You stay silent, your mind racing, your body warming further at the feeling of his eyes on you. “What’s wrong, little spider?” You suppress a shiver at the nickname as goosebumps rise over your skin, it’s been a problem since he picked it. “I’m hot.” The words shoot out of your mouth before you can second-guess them again. Miguel chuckles a bit, sending embarrassment through your body, sits back in his chair, and crosses his arms, prompting you to go on.

“I can’t fix it. There’s… someone.” Miguel pretends he doesn’t notice the way your eyes flicker to him. “For some reason, something about them just- “ You pause for a moment, truly baffled by the way you feel, trying to find some way to explain it. “They just do something to me and it won’t stop.” Your words start to sound frantic, a bit panicked. Miguel leans forward, resting his elbows on his knees to examine your expression. “It’s like there's a low- like a low vibration- or a frequency? Like the ones that are so low you can barely hear but you can sorta feel them? It’s like that but- but deep inside me.”

Your eyes close and eyebrows furrow as you describe the feeling to him. He tries to keep his breathing even as he hardens uncontrollably under the suit. You don’t even realize what you’re confessing to him. “Like it’s in my bones, Miguel.” You add emphasis, your hands digging into the material of your suit before raising your head to meet his eyes, hoping he understands the state you’re in. He’s almost dizzy at the way his blood rushes to his cock. He holds your gaze and tries to convey a baffled, thoughtful expression as he tries to calm himself.

“That’s- That’s odd. Yeah, um.” He takes a few deep breaths before sitting back again, unable to stay in your space any longer. “Do- Can you tell me who’s causing it? Perhaps it’s a side effect of their powers?” Your spine straightens and you shake your head at him gently. You twist your fingers in the fabric of your suit and your feet play with each other on the lab floor. “H-have you heard of any powers like that?” You ask him, a hopeful look in your eyes.

Clever girl.

“No, I haven't.” He sits back, spreads his legs, and runs his hands down his thighs and back with a sigh. He holds back a smirk when his watch vibrates and he hears you take a sharp breath. “I- I don’t know what to do anymore. It- I can barely sleep.” You sound distraught, broken, and tired. He’d be the messed up one if he didn't help you… Right?

“I mean… I can try running some tests?” He offers, he keeps his tone light, trying to keep his dark desires off your radar. You perk up at his offer, already up and out of your seat, standing in front of him with a smile. He keeps his eyes on you, trying to ignore the way your scent is assaulting his nose, giving away how badly you need him. “You think we could?”

He nods and stands up, walking over to his lab table and clearing a few things. His head is already running wild with fantasies, ideas of what he could do to you, what he could teach you, how good he could make you feel. “Yeah, of course. C’mere, pequeña araña” You were already walking to him but your pace stutters and his watch vibrates when the nickname slips out. He truly didn’t mean to, he had gotten a bit too deep in his fantasies, and when your voice broke through he didn’t get fully pulled out. He’s never called you that in Spanish, not to your face at least, it’s fallen from his lips a few times before though, when he’s alone with his hand wrapped around his cock. But your reaction dissuades any fear that had shot through him before and he can’t help the smirk that makes its way on his face.

You’re standing silently beside him, wringing your hands together and he doesn’t think you even notice the way your thighs keep clenching together. “Get on the table.” His tone is teasing, a grin on his face as you jump and scramble onto the tabletop. You lay on your back and look over at Miguel, feeling that heat rage through you at the look on his face. It’s dark and- wanting. It’s confusing.

He takes a deep breath and your fingers try to dig into the metal table top as he walks to you. “Okay. I’m going to examine your body a bit, press into some muscles, some pressure points to see if maybe it’s a physical trigger. Is that okay with you?” Your chest is already rising and falling more rapidly at the thought, the promise of Miguel’s hands on you. You nod at him stiffly, trying to stay normal and calm as he holds your eye contact, nodding along with you. A small smile graces his face before he walks around and presses his palm into your hairline, pushing your head down to rest on the table as he stands north of you.

His hands press into your shoulders and your eyes shut tight. He can feel all your muscles tense and his watch vibrates, he sneaks a peak at his and sees the huge spike in almost all your vitals. His cock twitches in his suit at your obvious need but he brushes it aside, if he rushes into this he might scare you off and he doesn’t know what he’ll do if that happens. He may lose his mind. He moves his hands to your biceps, massaging them tightly as little whines slip into your breaths, only audible to his ears.

He walks back to the side of the tables and your eyes stay shut. He massages the softness of your sides and his breathing kicks up a bit once he gets to your hips. He takes his time with them, admiring the way you fit into his hands and how you subconsciously tilt them toward him. His thighs jump as his cock begins to leak, dripping precum down them. He takes a deep, shaky breath and forces himself to move on. He forced himself to move on, he was trying to take it slow, hopefully, you’d realize where you need him and ask for it. But your thighs spread open when he massages the outside and his hands dive for the inner before he can think it through.

You gasp, you sit up with your eyes wide and your hands gripping his wrists. You don’t do anything though, he expects you to pull his hands away but it feels more like you’re holding him there, stopping- or attempting to stop him from pulling away. So of course he doesn't. He stares into your eyes as you search his, trying to figure out if he realizes the way that made you feel, if your cover was blown, if he wants to stop but he looks expectant, like he’s waiting for something. So you loosen your grip. “That’s- I think that’s- ” You’re nodding at him lightly, hoping he understands what you’re trying to say because for some reason your brain has stopped working.

“Yeah?” Your heart stutters at his tone and the tilt of his head as he says it. Your thighs tense around his hand for a moment before you try to calm down, un-tense them but they can’t help the way they tremble with anticipation. You’re nodding at him more frantically and his eyelids flutter. “Okay.” He takes one hand out from between your thighs and rests it on your lower back as his other hand keeps massaging, slowly moving up your inner thigh and the sensations grow more intense the higher he gets.

Your eyes shut and your hands grip his wrists again, not pulling away, just holding him. Your eyes shut and your hips tilt into his hand, getting him so close to your pussy that he can feel the heat radiating off of her. You feel some sort of shame twinge in your belly, dampening the more intense feelings that Miguel was causing. What if this was wrong? What if you aren’t supposed to feel like this with him, without him knowing… Maybe you should stop.

Miguel moves further up and all those thoughts scatter from your head immediately. His watch vibrates again and a noise shoots out of your mouth- one you’ve never heard before as your body folds over and your head rests on his shoulder. You shut your eyes tight and take a slow, deep breath. “Sorry. Sorry, I-” He cuts you off. “It’s okay. That’s why I’m here, right?” He’s nodding at you, comforting and reassuring as his hand leaves your back to cradle your head. “You’re okay. I wanna help you, cariño.” Another noise leaves you at the nickname and his hand grips into your hair for a moment before sliding down to your neck and pulls your head away from his shoulder. He pushes your head against his for a moment, letting out a soft groan before letting go and pushing his fingers against your plush lips.

“How’s that, honey?” His hand settles back on your lower back as you whine and your hands move up his arm, gripping his biceps now and pulling yourself closer to him. “Miguel.” His eyes roll back at how you sound, desperate, breathless, and gone. Your hips are grinding into his fingers and they aren’t even on your clit yet. They’re pressing against your hole through your lips and your suit, he’s keeping his fingertips flat against you so he doesn’t slip inside.

He’s trying to ignore the mess he’s making in his pants, watching your tense face change into a relieved one, your eyebrows pulling inward as your lips part beautifully, releasing a shaky moan as he reangles his fingers to your clit. His hands are shaking as he tries to calm himself down, one of your hands slides up his arm, leaving goosebumps in its wake before gripping onto his shoulder and pulling him down, closer to your face. His eyes are fixed on your expression, taking everything in, every twitch and quiver, the way your tongue darts out to lick your lips before a whimper punches out of you.

You’re ruining him and you’re none the wiser. Your hand slides up to his neck and you push your forehead against his, like he did earlier. His eyes roll back before he forces them to you again, moving his fingers over you clit faster when your thighs begin to shake around his wrist. “I think-” Your voice comes out as a whimper and he groans into you. Your fingers grip into his hair and his cock cries against him. “Something… Miguel.”

The way you say his name fucks with him. It’s prettier than he ever could’ve imagined, he has to lean forward and press his throbbing cock against the edge of the table for relief. You’ve got him feeling like he could die, like he could implode if he doesn’t have you, if after this you realize what you need but get it somewhere else? It’ll be over for him. Your hand readjusts its grip in his hair, becoming more frantic as your spine straightens and your thighs close on his hands. “Miguel? I-” You cut yourself off with a moan and your head falls to his shoulder again, blocking your face from his view.

“No, no.” He brings his hand to the back of your neck again. “Let me see, amor.” He pulls you away from his shoulder and you moan at the nickname. Once again, it didn’t mean to slip out but you’ve got his head so cloudy he can’t help it. You’re moaning his name on repeat, like a warning and he’s pulsing at the thought, the promise of getting to see you cum, for him. His eyes can’t look away from you, he can’t see anything but your face, the way your brows furrow as you tense, and your nails dig into his arms, leaving reminders for later. He watches how you bite your lip before your jaw drops into an ‘O’ shape and his name falls from your lips one more time as a debauched cry.

He keeps his eyes open, watching you cum for him, how your lips form around his name again and again. He wants to collapse, fall to his knees with how much you’re turning him on but he needs to watch you. He forces himself to keep his eyes on you, ignoring the way they want to roll back at how he’s flooding his pants. His hips twitch against the edge of the table as he cums for you, with you. His mind zeros into the way he can feel your clit pulsing underneath his finger tips, how breathless you sound, trying to keep up with the noises he’s forcing from you. His stomach tenses painfully as his cock unloads more cum onto himself. You sound like an angel, crying out for him. He can’t help the way he dives for you, pulling you in to kiss him and swallowing every moan you’ll give him.

You whine into his mouth as his fingers slow down over your clit, your other hand meets the first in his hair and you keep his lips on yours. He keeps kissing you until you calm down and your breathing evens out. His hand comes from between your thighs and rubs your legs until you pull back from his lips. You have a bashful, embarrassed look on your face and it brings the largest smile that you’ve ever seen to his face. “Was that okay, pequeña araña?” You whine and pull him in for a hug, nodding into his shoulder as he chuckles and wraps his arms around you as you begin to giggle against him.

Thank you so much for reading! If you enjoyed, here's the rest of my Kinktober Works and be sure to check out my Main Masterlist!!

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kyumisyumi · 4 months

Text

Tentacles and Tendrils

Shaking off the rust and giving monster smut(writing in general) a shot again.

Prompt: monster partner is in rut/heat and the partner has to deal with it

Rating: 18+

Monster type: M!Merfolk x F!Reader

Word count: 6k

~Taking requests~

You stare out at the unending, blue horizon. The cool ocean breeze preparing you for the temperatures of its water as you linger along the edge. You wore the company certified diving gear: a wetsuit, mask, BCD, the works. A spear weighed down one hand while a cylindrical container weighed on your shoulder. Hope and pessimism fought to be at the forefront of your mind as you scan the empty waters with heavy disappointment. This area was always relatively vacant, but not too far off you can spot a duo entering the water with matching gear. Their actions take you out of your haze, and with another gauge check you finally approach the water. Getting a feel for the sea's surge, you make your way in. And with practiced hands you slipped on your fins before turning to greet the seas with outstretched arms.

Beneath the blue your body instantly goes into autopilot. Swimming was as natural as walking and these seas might as well have been a second home; a wayward beauty that will switch it's mood at a moments notice but home nonetheless. You took it all in, familiar as it may be, the ocean never stopped being a sight to behold. A world beneath our own full of wonderful blues, outstretched greens and terrifying blacks. The current had a bit of force behind it but nothing near the cruelty you knew any large body of water could deal. Your darting eyes couldn't help but search around, scanning everywhere for even just a hint of... There! You moved with haste. As much as you could as a land dwelling animal in aquatic terrain. You didn't get far before the shape you eagerly chased revealed itself to be just a particularly thick and unruly swatch of seaweed. You sigh internally before resolving to begin your original task.

Nearing a gorgeous station of coral, you couldn't help but linger and watch the busyness. Schools of varicolored, itty bitty fish swimming through the equally colorful pseudo-flora. Despite your love for marine life, you never quite learnt the names of all the little guys much less how to differentiate between them, say for a handful that stick out. Your interest was usually for the larger lifeforms mother nature had to offer; you smiled as you watched a wary grey eel eye you with suspicion. Soon your eyes fell upon your reason for being here. It's bright red colors were slightly muted by the depths, with white tiger stripes outlined by black to break up the pattern. Its form was lined with spines and frills that flowed and fluttered with each graceful swish of it's body; an absolutely gorgeous creature. You readied your spear. The black strap trigger pressed into your skin as you carefully aimed, hoping not to hit anything but the target. It helped that the lionfish lingered in one spot before you speared it. You moved to put it in the container before opting to offer it to the eel you saw earlier. As gorgeous - and delicious - as they were, these guys were invasive here and the effects of their persistence was a constant strain to the native wildlife. They seemed highly concentrated around this sandy patch of substrate, driftwood and dead coral. It didn't take long after the first few kills for one of your friends to make their way over. Gently, you caressed the top of the nurse shark eyeing your spare eagerly, this one you named Lisa... or maybe it was Madeline. It was no surprise your face blindness extended to animals as well, even the cute ones that made your dives feel a little less lonely. The creature began gliding and swirling around you. You liked to believe the fondness was mutual but it was equally likely they were just in it for a meal. You speared another lionfish and offered it to the grey and white cutie.

The spot you were in. The shark. The scenario. It brought back the memory of the first time you saw him.

Back then you were collecting lionfish, same as now with a duo of nurse sharks tailing your every movement. At the time you were overly cautious, so you'd sit in one place, removing the venomous spines of the fish before handing them over. You could see him out of the corner of your eye, he'd been there for quite a while, watching you. From his position partially behind the rocks, you'd think he was hiding -or rather, on the defensive- but you just can't imagine something that big and powerful hiding from tiny 'ol you. Yes you had a spear but you doubt it would do you much good if he decided to attack. Merfolk. Given your job at the Aquatic Wildlife Center you were relatively familiar with them. Your company was more than welcoming when programs were made for them- as well as the other species- who showed interest in coexisting during the realm migration. The Merfolk you were familiar with, however, had to undergo numerous lessons on etiquette and culture to live among humans. The one near you now... The word 'feral' came to mind. You didn't quite like using such an animalistic term towards something that looked a little too human, someone that you knew had equivalent intelligence. His skin was primarily muted greens with a burst of parchment white down his chest and undersides of his arms. Unlike the fish tails merfolk were known for, this one's body ended in a myriad of tentacles, not unlike an octopus. Height wasn't exactly something you could measure but in terms of body mass he was more than twice your own. He seemed to tense any time you held direct eye contact so you settled on keeping him in your peripheral and keeping your movements slow and measured. You're not sure what he wanted but if he was content to just watch you, you didn't mind.

The next time you went out for a dive he'd made another appearance, this time resting on the rocks instead of behind them. Looking at the way his tentacles gently swayed against the current, you realise the way they'd writhed restlessly the day before may have been a sign of anxiety. It tickled you that somehow, in his mind, you were a threat to be worried about. You'd never even been in a proper fight. His relaxed demeanor gave you a bit of courage and you contemplated offering him one of the lionfish but ultimately chose not to. Doing so would feel as though you were treating him like an animal at the petting zoo. Then again, he was watching you like an animal at a regular zoo, keeping his distance as if he thought you'd lash out at any opportunity. You focused on the task at hand. Either the sharks had developed more patience or they were full from yesterday, this time they seemed more interested in dawdling around and getting pets than playing Russian roulette with your spear. You'd gotten into a rhythm of pull, aim, release as you moved slowly across the sandy substrate with him never too far behind.

On the third day he was almost as close as the sharks were. There was still a respectful distance but you'd only have to reach out your hand to touch him. Despite your determination to hold strong as he approached there was a hint of fear in your eyes when he first got closer. He wasn't threatening but the size difference was all to blatant up close, his chest so broad and arms so thick you didn't doubt they could snap you in half like an oatmeal cookie. In response he seemed to try to make himself look smaller, drifting at a lower level so that his head wasn't much higher than yours. This gave you a good look at his features, he had round pupils unlike the rectangular slits you associated with octopi, his sclera was a light grey and his irises a saffron yellow on downturned eyes. He didn't seem to have any patchwork of iridescent scales like your work colleagues. His eyes aside, everything about his face was sharp, from the hooked nose to the prominent chin and brow bone. As curious as you were, you tried not to look any lower than the slits along his neck; gills, in case your gaze made him uncomfortable. You briefly wondered if he'd try to say something once he got closer but he didn't, he just looked back with a gesture you interpreted as 'continue'. So you did.

There actually weren't anymore lionfish nearby so you decided to take a moment to clip the spines of the one on your spear, hoping to feed it to Joel the eel... or maybe this was Geoffrey. He took this lull in your movement as an opportunity to interact. You stared wide eyed as his hands reached out. It looked as though he was going to reach for your spear but thought better of it and reached out for your free hand instead. He took your smaller hand into his much larger ones. He inspected each finger, pulling them apart and tracing the curve in between, where his held a thin membrane. He ran a thumb over your blunt nails, where his held thick black claw. His movements were slow - cautious - and you get the feeling that it was more for your benefit than his. Wary as you were, you were equally enthused to learn more of the man... fish... octopus being before you. He inspected the sleeve of your wetsuit, running his fingers over the material. When it seemed like he was going to pinch the fabric between two claws you tugged your hand away, shaking your head in hopes the gesture was universal. Thankfully he understood. He then circled you to take in the rest of your form, a possible sign he understood touching anywhere else on your body might be unwelcomed.

Unsurprisingly, he took particular interest in your legs, watching the way they swayed to keep you afloat. He didn't touch you yet you somehow felt pressure over every inch his eyes laid upon. Was this how your coworker felt during those awkward introductory meetings where there would always be one person asking to touch their fins. The memory made you giggle and the merman suddenly shifted his focus from your legs to your face. Your breath caught as his eyes focused on yours, it was mesmerizing how they looked as fluid as the ocean; the colors swaying as the black center zeroed in on you. For a moment you wondered what did you look like through those eyes. He raised a hand to rest his knuckles against your cheek. His gaze then lowered to your lips. Your body -so ready to flee when he first approached- now froze. No matter how much you tried to reinforce that his actions were of innocent curiosity you couldn't stop thinking they weren't. Or maybe you just hoped they weren't. Oh dear. Before you could figure out where your head was at, he pressed a thumb against your lips. There was a subtle shift in his features as he stared at you intently. A question? Was he asking to kiss you? Your heart sprinted. He wanted to kiss you... and you- you were actually considering it. You must be insane; yes you thought he was gorgeous in a unnatural -captivating- way but you weren't going to kiss a creature you haven't known for more than a few hours. You hadn't even exchanged words with him. Words... Oh! That was it! You would've face palmed if your hands weren't occupied. He wished to speak, and prior knowledge reminded you that merfolk could adapt a language through lip contact. Well, that cleared your brain a bit. If that's the case surely you could spare your lips for a moment. It wouldn't have to be long, just the slightest peck was enough. A fraction of a second. He was patiently awaiting your answer, somewhat pulling back as if to tell you 'no' was a more than acceptable answer. With a tad more hesitation you finally nodded. You pulled out your mouth pieces, angling it downwards to prevent excess air loss. Trying to show some initiative you moved closer but you just couldn't bring yourself to close the kiss. Graciously he did and your lips met. Your rushing blood brought heat straight to your cheeks. It was such a minute amount of contact but your body responded as if he was already tongue deep inside. You felt... something. Like faint streams of electricity that moved from the corners of your lips to the center before vanishing. You figured it was the magic at work, now would be the time to move away but your body and brain can't seem to get on the same page. Or maybe they were on the same page and the voice telling you to move away was something foreign, something unwanted. You opened your eyes to see his, half lidded but looking at you with an intensity that couldn't be misconstrued. Neither of you wanted to break the contact. You're not sure where the confidence came from but just as you moved to press closer to him, your lungs reminded you where you were. They called for oxygen. It took more effort than you would like to admit to pull away from him and return your regulator to your mouth. You looked back at him to see his fingers pressed against his mouth, eyes swirling with mixed emotions. Maybe it was your eyes playing tricks on you but you swear he licked his lips. His adam's apple bobbed in his throat and he moved his lips as if testing the motions.

"Can you understand me?"

You nodded in the affirmative. And by Gods, the smile on his face could outshine the sun on a clear summer morning.

This opened up the pathway to your budding friendship. Underwater, you couldn't have full conversations but with the barrage of questions he had there was hardly a need to speak. It especially amused you that he had to confirm that you were indeed human. Do humans walk everywhere? Do we forms pods? Do we dream? Do humans fly was a weird one to answer under the limitations. It was an eye opener to the fact that you were as alien to him as he you.

At some point you remembered that you were on a timer and though there wasn't really a quota, resurfacing with only four lionfish would definitely not look good for you. You went back to spearing, trying to be quick while he asked about this and that. It only got better when you finally resurfaced. You perched on the old abandoned dock, it was barely more than a couple planks of wood hanging on for dear life. You were especially glad that this area remained as vacant as when you left so you didn't have to worry about worried/wondering gazes at the two of you.

Unfortunately diving was only something you could do 2 maybe 3 times a week, it was essentially a freebie session offered to break up the office work you dread. Still, even after you clocked out, you'd take a stroll to that same dock where he'd be waiting beneath the surface. You learnt that, though most merfolk would declare otherwise, his species wasn't rare. Just distant and reclusive. The only reason he was close enough to the shore to spot me was because he seeked a precious stone to complete a trade. Based on his description you believed it was Larimar or Blue calcite, which you may have in your personal collection. When you asked why he decided to approach you, his answer was a sideways glance and a shrug before quickly changing the subject. There were moments, you noticed, when he'd rest his arms along the wooden planks and caress your overhanging legs. The movements were slow and feather light, almost absent minded. It made your mind fuzzy, you wished to just close your eyes and focus on nothing but the feel of his skin against yours. Occasionally, he would gently rake a claw over your soft skin and you'd try your best not to trip over your words. In return, you'd run your fingers over the mix of tentacles and tendrils that sprouted from his head- similar to hair. The prehensile limbs would wrap around your fingers. The gestures were unmistakably intimate but neither of you spoke against it. Amongst the many questions and conversations would be these moments of content silence, these you treasured most. His hands on you, your hands on his, as you both enjoyed the world around you and each other.

Now those memories fill you with a hollow feeling in your chest. It's been almost a week with no sign of him. What had you expected, really? He has a life down below that he has to attend to after all. Even you have missed a day or two. What if he's hurt? The question gnawed at you many times these past few days; you despised the small part of you that preferred that outcome over having been left behind. But then the idea that somewhere down there he was facing unknown perils that you'd have no means to help him with would solidify in your mind. No, you'd rather the hurt of having been abandoned. Summoning your mental fortitude, you aimed to focus on the task at hand before you accidentally harm one of the sharks by being distracted. There was a new face this time... at least you thought they were new. They nuzzled your body as if sensing your distress and to your delight; it helped

Seconds dragged into minutes then hours before it was time for you to get out. You wished you could say you were strong enough to just go but instead you swam around for a bit; hoping. Praying. But there was nothing around except you, the water and your pitiful heartache.

Above land you safely shed the equipment. The smart thing to do would be to go home as soon as possible. To finish your day, change your clothes and curl up in blankets while playing some video games. However, you've always been a creature of habit so instead you sat at the old dock. Alone. The sun was so warm but the winds were relentless, they licked at your skin as if trying to shoo you away. Maybe this was Poseidon's way of telling you to get over it. It's not like there was anything between the two of you. You'd only known him for a handful of weeks after all, that's barely enough time to form a friendship much less... As if shutting down the thought, your brain replayed a memory of him pressing his face against the palm of your hand with pure bliss etched into his features. As if your touch alone could push away all his problems. Then there was the time you touched your forehead to his during a momentary spur of boldness. The look he gave you spoke so loud in the silence. You would've kissed him then if not for your shyness winning out. That was one of the last moments you'd shared before his disappearance. A treasure in your heart that now caused you pain. Packing up your things, you got up to leave, however something clutched your ankle. Something, rather, someone you recognized all too well.

You gasped violently as you were dragged down. Thank goodness you did because it was all the air you'd get to take with you in your rapid decent below. He shifted so instead of being pulled by his tentacles, you were fastened to his side by a firm arm. He stared straight forward as he swam, allowing you only to see the tendrils whipping around the back of his head. You could hardly process how fast you were going down the bottomless blue. The water shifted from a bright, comfortimg azure to ultramarine as you went deeper and deeper. Your panic rose the further he swam, which did your lungs no good. Was he trying to drown you!? You couldn't call out, couldn't scream so you tugged and pulled at his thick, unyielding arm, trying desperately to get him to stop. He turned to you then, there was a look of pained and haunted thoughts scribed into his face. The lovely grey of his sclera had darkened into a soulless black making the yellows of his eyes that more vibrant, almost glowing in the waters inky depth. The word 'feral' again came to mind as he blinked his second eyelids. He looked at you and looked at you and looked even more. As though his eyes processed one thing but his brain was stuck on something else. It took a moment but he finally said your name. Not said, growled it. His usually velvety deep voice was now strained through gravel. He pulled you closer to him and buried his face in your hair, your heart would be fluttering were it not currently banging in your chest wondering where the hell was the oxygen it ordered. You tried, you really did, to struggle against his hold. Hoping he'd wake up from whatever spell he was under and bring you back to solid ground. Hell, you'd make an attempt to swim for it, knowing how futile it would be. But once his long tongue was on your throat you became putty in his arms. You feel three distinct fingers rake against the other side of your neck as he nipped at you. You can't tell if your breath hitched or your lungs made another vain attempt to reach for air. You raised a trembling hand, trying to alert him to your situation but he seemed solely focused on tasting your skin.

"Breathe." He spoke in-between licks, his tongue venturing down to your clavicle, and you wondered if he'd actually gone mad. His hooded eyes met yours and he repeated the word.

It didn't matter anymore, the choice was no longer yours. You had held onto that final breath for dear life but it was time for that life to come to an end. A stream of bubbles left your horrified lips as you now fought not to breath in; that was a far shorter battle. You inhaled, preparing for the sting of water invading your airways in it's rush to your desperate lungs. For your body to heave and cough as the waters reminded you you were not it's friend but a guest who had overstayed their welcome. Would your body float up to be picked at by birds or sink to be fodder for the sea floor scavengers? You waited and waited. But... It never came. You, somehow, were breathing air. Opening your eyes in confusion, you looked around to see if you were suddenly back on land, if all this was some dream or hallucination spurred on by your guilt and heartbreak but no. You were still surrounded by the open seas and all it's inhabitants. Your breaths felt slightly strained but you weren't going to complain about life saving miracles. Especially when a giant tentacled man was tracing his finger down your spine. Now that your life was no longer at risk(mostly) you calmly rest your palm against his head, trying again to get answers out of him. He stilled, dissolving into your touch as he had many times before. You saw a bit of clarity in his eyes before he closed them.

"I'm sorry." He said after a moment, his voice was lustful and strained, like a warning sign dipped in want and desire. "It started; my heat. I tried to stay as far away as I could but when all sense had escaped my mind the only thing left were thoughts of you." He pulled you closer, his eyes remained closed as if one look at you would break the little control he had. "I thought I had overcome it when I began searching for... Methods for you to survive beneath the waters. But the moment I had my answers it overtook me. It possessed me. It still does. I want you...desperately but only if you'll have me."

You listened to his words, in confusion then understanding. Then you actually understood! Oh! Suddenly your body had forgotten all it's woes, focusing on your core instead. He wanted you. You bit your lip in thought, noticing that the water couldn't pass some unseen threshold of your mouth. You wanted him, you couldn't even pretend to deny that but... Was there a 'but'? You searched your tainted mind for excuses but your brain and your body were again in unison, the only outlier was you. You slid your hand up his face and caressed a cranial tendril, he opened his eyes and you felt his body vibrate. Purring.

You didn't have the courage to look him in the eye when you spoke. "I will." You consented.

He was on you instantly. His lips crashed into yours with reckless need. There was no slow build up, no questioning nor tentative tongue touches. His tongue snaked pass your lips and devoured you in kind. His large hands ran down either sides of your body, meeting when they both grabbed at your ass. There they lingered, kneading your flesh through the stretchy materiel, before one devious hand ventured even lower. You felt him slide a finger along the fabric covering your sex. Back and forth, his finger glided creating a nice little friction that almost touched your eager clit. Your hips moved on their own, seeking the contact. You craved more of his touch and suddenly the thin, synthetic rubber was a dense barrier. As if hearing your thoughts, there was the slightest pinch against the crook of your behind before a sudden coldness seeped in. You could feel him carefully swipe his claw to just above your clit, creating a opening in the fabric. The new sensation of cold wetness against you warm sex made you gasp but it was soon replaced by the warmth of his... hand? No, the texture was far different. Before you had a chance to investigate, the feeling of suction against your clit gave you all the answers you needed. Something between a gasp and a moan left your lips, the sound must've pleased him greatly because he tore himself away from your mouth to look into your eyes. The limb covered your whole sex, with the tip lightly teasing your entrance but it was that one suction cup upon your clit that was really putting in the work. It took a rhythm that was brain meltingly pleasant against the sensitive bud, thoroughly teased by his phantom touches prior. A sudden surge of pleasure began to build causing you to reflexively try to squeeze your thighs together. However, the action was impeded by two tentacles quickly wrapping around your legs to keep them parted. They squeezed as if to reaffirm their hold on you. He took your chin in his hand and watched you intensely as you came undone from the stimulation. His grip was light but unyielding when you tried to turn away. Closing your eyes would lead to him stopping completely until they fluttered open again to meet his. He would take in every dip in your throat, every curve in your lips, every crease beneath your eyes and flush upon your cheeks. He wouldn't miss a moment of your first orgasm at his hands. His gaze was dizzying, as if whatever possessed him was now reaching out for you. Having him inspect you with such cold fondness only made the experience that more salacious. The rising tide of pleasure finally crashed and you were left a buzzing, panting mess. With a look of gratification he released your chin, wrapping his arms around you once more to knit your body to his.

"You're so beautiful." He cooed before trailing off into words of his own language.

You didn't get a moment to say anything back before you felt something probe against your opening. One of his tentacles slid inside you fully, welcomed and aided by the slick lube of your still pulsing walls. You shuddered in his arms, thankful for the support. It was a comfortable fit and suddenly you're reminded that it's been ages since anyone has had you like this. It made the experience slightly more alien atop the fact that you were being intimate with a lust driven sea-beast. Rather than the expected thrusting, the appendage grazed along your insides. It twisted and pushed as if getting a feel for you, learning you before pulling back out. The sudden emptiness made you whimper, you looked at him, ready to beg if need be but it didn't come to that. You felt your entrance being prodded again. It was the familiar tip of a tentacle, ready to enter you once more. However, the more it pushed, the wider it got; so very much wider. And Gods, it held a bumpy texture that was absent before. Just as your mind went hazy you realised it was two of them, wrapped around each other. It finally gave you the thrusting motion you desired, it's ribbed texture grazing parts of you that remained untouched for too long. Your movements were limited but you attempted to grind against each wonderful thrust, moaning your delight with feather light whispers. This was all too good, soft and pliable enough that it writhed inside you but firm enough to press against your hungry womb.

Despite all senses seemingly being focused on your trembling hole you felt something press against your stomach, forcing it's way into the tiny space between your body and his. You peek downward to see the spearheaded tip of what you assumed was his cock. Suddenly, his preparation of your cunt made sense, you'd expected him to be big but geez. It was identical in color to his body, darkening at the tip in a similar fashion to his fingers. It throbbed and twitched as he began to grind against you. Even with two tentacles stretching your insides, your greedy eyes craved the feel of it. Craved the connection to him. You reached down and grasped it at the base, shock almost pulling you out of your haze when it wrapped around your hand. It tightened as if begging for more of your touch. You acquiesced and began running you hands up and down his massive length, taking great pleasure in the way his body vibrated with resonating groans. His thrusts inside you growing wilder, taking you further and further and you were determined to take him with you. His voice held a softer, pleading tone as it goaded you on, praising you between strained hisses. His cock swelled and hardened, his words devolving into senseless mumbles. The limbs inside you became more erratic as his pleasure grew. His grip on your body tightening to the point of leaving small tears in your suit and nicks in your skin. He released a long animalistic huff as he coated your arm in slimy white fluid, your body responded by coating his tentacles with your own. You rest your head against his chest, moving in time with his heavy breaths, counting them as you both recovered. You're not sure when he began moving you but suddenly you were face to face. He kissed you. Slowly. Gently. Tasting and savoring you.

"Do you think you could take me, my treasure, or do I need to stretch that greedy hole of yours even more?" He asked between kisses.

Words were beyond your tired brain so you just nodded. As spent as your body was, this moment would not feel complete until he was inside you. Slowly, as if moving you too much too quickly could break you, he turned you around so that your back was pressed against his chest. He snaked his hands around you -he really did seem to love having his arms on you-, one hand moving to grope your breast while the other traced a line down your stomach to caress your mound. You feel his lower half angle itself to bring his leaking member to your slick opening. Oh so slowly you feel him slide into you, spreading you wider with each inch. You couldn't help but try to squirm against him but his hands held you steady. He was only half way in when your body began to show resistance. He started pulling out slowly and thrusting into you, getting a little bit further each time.

"You're being so good for me." He whispered just above your ear, his voice held a lovely cadence. Singsong; as if haunted by a melody that compelled his body to move.

You couldn't hear it but you felt it, it rang through your body with each sway of your hips and out your lips with each whine. Down to the way he held you, like an instrument to be adored. Every moan a crescendo and every voice stopping bite at your neck a diminuendo. He was playing you and you were loving every moment of it. In and out, in and out like he was timing bars on sheet music. That was up until the flat, tapered tip hit the deepest part of you; he'd hilted. Then everything stopped. Fermata. You're only warning for what was to come were the tentacles that slithered around your legs to ground you. You hardly even felt him pull out, just the force as he thrust fully into you. The sound that left your mouth was a guttural whine of shock and pain. He kept going. Slamming. Pounding. Taking your body over and over. It hurt and yet you desired more. He fucked you like he was craving this moment his whole life. Your body eased and the pain slowly dissolved into pleasure, never quite leaving but become something more. Something better. Something wholy obscene. Your body was an inferno in the cold, dark water. Pleasure overtook you; you no longer felt like a person, just a mass of emotions and senses. You could hear his grunts and growls behind you, the sounds he made were truly animalistic. Wild. Primal. Savage. As though he couldn't fathom being anything but a creature of vulgarity. Couldn't fathom doing anything but driving himself into you. Desired nothing more in the world than to fill the emptiest parts of you. Your walls tightened around him, as if intending to learn every bulge and vein of his cock. Pulling and sucking him in with no desire to let him go, that was where all your strength went. You felt the recognizable build of another orgasm and judging by way his pliable member was now a hardened monolith, he wasn't far off. He no longer needed to lead, you danced with him as you both came together. His seed seeped out of him, filling every bit of (nonexistent)space inside of you before oozing out. He continued to thrust, making sure you milked his cock for everything he had. It's throbbing was like a heartbeat inside you.

You collapsed against him, laying your head flat against his chest, your cheek barely touching the flesh above his heart. After a moment you looked up to see him already staring down at you, the affection in his eyes fueled your already thrumming heart. A moment of tenderness as the tainted waters surrounding you both whisked your indecencies away. His sclera lightened to their usual soft grey. An eagerness popped up on his face as he seemingly wanted to ask you something then but thought better of it. A somber look taking over his features instead. Using what little strength remained in your body, you turned fully to him. He immediately took your head in both his hands and rest his forehead against yours.

"I- Did i hurt you?"

"Did-" You gave him a droll look. "Did you hurt me??" You flicked his head. Well, you tried but there was less than no force behind your fingers. "Of course you did. Lucky for you I enjoyed it."

"I'm so sorry, I'll be gentler next time." He sounded genuinely apologetic. "If you would allow for a 'next time'."

"There better be."

"And a time after that?"

"Don't push your luck, ocean boy."

You felt him smile against you. It may have been an innocent one but you couldn't help but wonder if he was already plotting.

He took you above land after that and you thanked the Gods above that your towel and pack was still waiting for you. At least you could walk(limp) to the company building without catching a charge for indecent exposure. He watched you from his usual spot on the dock. His downturned eyes hooded by his lashes had him looking like a distraught child watching their best friend board a plane to unknown lands. Did he think he scared you away? That you'd never return? Maybe as a bit of revenge you'd let him believe it.

((You also had to deal with the urge to sink into the floor at the knowing and amused looks on your merfolk coworker's face every time they saw the marks on your neck D:))

#monster boy #monster lover #monsterfucker #merfolk #monster x human #monster romance #monster smut #teratophillia #exophelia #kyumiwrites #monster writing #tentacles #tentaclesandtendrils

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akela-nakamura · 8 months

Text

DPxDC Prompt

Summoning is an imperfect art, mispronouncing a name or having an incorrect symbol can lead to unexpected, and sometimes explosive results. Summoning can open unexpected doors. No one's prepared for what--or who--steps through when a rising gang tries to summon backup.

My little ficlet for this is below the cut:

Smoke. The acrid slam of it in the nose, brought on by the screaming wind. Chanting. A chorus of voices, steady and thrumming. Pain. Everything is hazy, and it’s equal odds on it being from the smoke or the potential head injury.

Bruce stumbles to his feet, body throbbing.

This was not how he’d planned this night.

Of course, he hadn’t planned for Gotham to suddenly be overrun with a new…gang? They claimed to be a government organization, but Bruce has his doubts. He hadn’t had a chance to go through the GIW’s information, but according to Barbara, their claims were sketchy at best.

The shouting about ghosts and waving around sci-fi weapons with no trigger discipline certainly didn’t help their claims.

Government organization or not, they had no right to raid homes, to drag people out onto the street, or overall threaten his city.

His ears ring, and the chanting rises in volume, impossibly. His chest reverbes with the sound. It’s steady enough to feel like a second heart. His blurry vision locks onto the center of the summoning circle. Because this night couldn’t get any worse, of course.

First the GIW had rocketed up his list of threats with one simple move.

They’d gone after Jason.

Jason, who even now was laid out in the middle of the summoning circle, eyes bright, bright, bright green through the haze.

First they’d taken his son.

Then they’d used him as a sacrifice.

Bruce bared his teeth, locking eyes with the closest GIW agent. The man held up his weapon, a glowing baton. His form is weak.

The baton gord flying, Bruce’s armored elbow slamming the man to the ground. The agent curls up, groaning. Nightwing’s escrima sing electric in the background, followed by the whip of Tim’s bow staff. Damian’s sword glints through the haze, and purple flashes through the crowd of white, white, white.

He can’t see Cass, but he doesn’t expect too.

The ground rocks under his feet, and it takes several precious seconds to regain his balance. There seems to be an almost endless flood of agents, with more and more meeting his fists as he tries to make it through the gauntlet.

Suddenly, the air shifts, the scream of it heading for the circle instead of out.

The circle glows toxic green, and Jason’s at the center, frozen in the light.

“No!” Bruce shouts, the sound ripping from his soul.

It’s echoed by Dick, who stands just outside the circle’s boundaries. His hands are pressed against the light, his blue eyes a shock against the green.

It’s a confusion of people - GIW white and the summoner’s black. The GIW is here to end whatever it is they need Jason to summon to them. The summoners themselves seem to have broken away from the “agency” and want power from the being they’re calling. It’s a fight on multiple fronts, with the GIW fighting the summoners and Bruce and his family fighting them all.

The temperature drops.

“HOOD!” Dick screams, as Jason is swallowed by the green.

The chant is all he can hear, even as he shoves towards the circle, even as he slams against the same wall Dick’s against.

The world goes bright and he can’t keep his eyes on Jason. On his son.

When the light fades, Jason’s not alone.

A being sits six feet in the air, Jason collapsed over his lap, somehow hovering with the - what is he? He looks human, but there’s something wrong. Off. Bruce can’t quite pinpoint his age. A crown glows on his head, an ever shifting cape spills down his back, dragging close to the floor. His eyes are green as Lazarus, and just as deep. Jason is breathing, Bruce notes. The being’s hands curl in Jason’s hair, playing with it idly.

The air is *rigid, and everyone’s stopped fighting. No one can draw their eyes away from the being.

“You dare to summon me with one of my own?” The being speaks, and it’s like crackling glaciers. Someone whimpers.

“We - wanted to give you a gift,” One of the men in black says, his voice chattering.

It’s like breathing in ice.

“A gift?” The being says and the sound is fury, banked in a waiting avalanche. “What kind of gift is this? A denizen of my Realms, trapped and tortured? Used to summon his king, against his will? This is no gift.”

“B-but we didn’t know,” another speaks, and then obviously realizes he shouldn’t have.

“Ignorance will not save you,” the being says, and it - he’s? - still holding Jason like he’s something precious. “And I am not the only one you have infuriated.

“I am not the only one you have awoken.”

To a man, the GIW agents cry out in panic. Bruce turns, looking for the threat but - the agents are buried to various depths in the cracked concrete floor. The ground is decidedly solid beneath Bruce’s feet but the agents would obviously not agree. They flounder, like the concrete is quicksand. The summoners are next, but it’s ice that gets them, crawling up their bodies until they’re locked into place.

“My lord!” One cries and promptly finds himself gagged.

Bruce can’t stay silent any longer. “Hood was used against his will to summon you,” he starts. The being’s eyes meet Bruce’s. “He didn’t want this. Is he alright?”

“Your son is fine,” the voice is rough, but feminine, and obviously not from the being. It’s around him, dancing through the steel beams and pushing through concrete. “You are mine, my knight. You and yours are mine. The little king will not harm him, nor you.” A figure forms off to his right.

“Holy shit,” Dick whispers. Bruce has to agree.

She’s made of concrete, of broken brick and dust, of bone and police tape, of twisted metal and more.

“Gotham,” Bruce breathes, and he doesn’t know how he knows but he does.

“Hello, my knight,” she says, her form shifting. She turns slightly, and there’s something sharp in her movement. “Hello, little king.”

“Lady Gotham,” The being - the king? - returns. “You look well,”

Lady Gotham laughs, a ringing sound - it’s bells and gravel, fresh air on a summer day and rising wind. “How you flatter me, little king. Do you fear me?”

The being grins, mischief dancing around him, white hair floating high. “I respect you. It’s good to see you awake, Milady.”

“What is happening?” Tim asks no one in particular. Dick shrugs and Steph just leans harder on Tim. Cass holds Damian’s shoulder firmly, watching carefully.

Bruce wishes he had an answer.

“It is good to be awake,” Lady Gotham says, and she shifts closer to the circle, fingers skimming against the barrier of light. “How long do you intend to keep my reaper from me?”

Reaper. Bruce thinks, and it’s a gut punch.

It makes sense, to describe Jason. Jason can go where Bruce cannot, do what Bruce cannot.

The king laughs lightly. “The summoning harmed him, Milady. I’m just keeping him safe. I’m not here to undermine you,” the king’s eyes glow. “But remember who is king.”

Lady Gotham smiles. “I’m aware of hierarchy little king.”

“My son,” Bruce says, because there’s no point in pretending Jason is anything less. He’s talking to - the embodiment of gotham and a king of - something. “He’ll be okay?”

Lady Gotham sighs. “He will be fine, my knight. The little king cares for his own.”

“What - what are you the king of?” Tim asks, bold.

The being smiles.

“I am Phantom,” he says. “I am the Ghost King.”

Jason stirs in his lap, and the implications crash over Bruce. Maybe Reaper has more meaning than he’d thought.

#DPxDC #Akela's Antics #Prompts #Ficlets #Crossover #DP x DC

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windfighter · 1 year

Text

It doesn't work like that

Prompt: "Shouldn't you be happy?"

------

Kouji was sitting in the garden, leaned against a tree. Wolf laid next to him, head in Kouji’s lap and Kouji petted him. Kousei leaned against the doorframe, watched them. Kouji’s eyes seemed to look at something far away, and yet they didn’t seem to see anything. Kousei sighed and walked over to Kouji.

”Shouldn’t you be happy?” he asked.

Kouji blinked, turned to look at him. His movements were slow and Kousei realized Kouji must have been deep in his own thoughts. Maybe he shouldn’t have interrupted. He guestured at nothing in particular.

”You’ve found your brother, and Tomoko. You have friends. We’re not going to move any time soon”, Kousei continued. He was still waiting for Kouji to show any anger about keeping Tomoko and Kouichi a secret. ”Shouldn’t you be happy?”

Kouji buried his fingers in Wolf’s fur and frowned. He slowly shook his head.

”...Depression doesn’t work like that”, he said.

Kousei knew that. He had been there when Kouji got diagnosed, had read up about it to be able to help, but it was still… He still thought the depression was because Tomoko’s death. He scratched the back of his neck.

”I know, it just… hurts to see you like this.”

Kouji smiled. It wasn’t happy, but it also wasn’t forced.

”I’m fine”, Kouji said. ”You don’t need to worry.”

”I’m not worrying”, Kousei said. He realized it was a lie. ”Okay, maybe a little. I just want to see you happy.”

”I’m not not happy”, Kouji said. ”Sometimes I just need to go outside and touch grass.”

Kousei put a hand on Kouji’s head and ruffled his hair. He tried to smile.

”Okay then”, he said. ”You know I’m always here if you need me.”

Kouji rolled his eyes before he nodded.

”I know, dad.”

Kousei knew Kouji well enough to tell that it was a lie. It would be useless to press. He patted Kouji’s shoulder.

”Dinner’s in an hour, after that we’ll take Wolf for a walk”, he said. ”Don’t lose track of time.”

Kouji nodded and Kousei walked back into the house.

#windy writes #whumpcember #digimon frontier #kouji minamoto #kousei minamoto #depression #I saw the prompt and instantly knew what I wanted to do :3 #it took me a couple of days to write tho because I had a visitor #and I'm sick x3 #it was hard to focus on writing when my body temperature was closer to 40 than 37 :P #♫ Temperaturen är hög uti kroppen närmare 40 än 37 komma 5 ♫#I'm feeling a little better today!#well I felt like absolute horseshit when I woke up #but I've had a bit to drink and feel less dehydrated at least :3 #so improvement!#absoluely freezing tho #anyway yeah #hope you enjoyed this little story :3

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honestsycrets · 10 months

Text

Stung | [Miguel O'Hara x Reader]

❛ pairing | miguel o'hara x reader

❛ type | oneshot

❛ summary | after a discus malfunction, you're bitten by an anomaly and refuse medical attention. you're in a state that you refuse to show to miguel-- at all costs.

❛ tags | NSFW, sex pollen, mention of a wound, slight chase, miguel o'hara doesn't like to be ignored, cum eating, creampies, abnormal amount of fluid, venom bite, slapping, some insecurity, spanish is not translated, sexual memories.

❛ sy’s notes | my obligatory ABO-sex pollen fic for ATSV. i usually make a ABO/Sex Pollen piece per fandom I write in, so here's one for Miggy 🐝

“All done!”

You slipped out of HQ’s packed infirmary with a jaunty bounce in your step. Crispy, coppery blood was matted onto your forearm concealed behind a hastily tied bandage. You weren't concerned about it. It would resolve within the hour. Likely less. As would your elevated body temperature. Despite the doctor's prattle about the benefit of further testing, you found their concern to be a non-issue. These things were virtual non-issues, even if the doctor and your man thought otherwise.

The hallways at HQ were like any other day in your city. Congested with the coming and going of spiders in their daily lives. A glimpse at any group might reveal decadent flirting and haughty laughter. Some were in a rush to their own worlds, but most were completing work assigned by the Spider Society. The one you were looking for reclined against a wall with his arms interlocked one over the other. His displeased rumble prompted you to his presence above all other voices in the crowd.

“You should have let them run the tests.” His voice was teased with concern but became mild, little more than a drab sigh at your refusal. You blew off his concern with a shake of your hand, gone yellow and bubbly behind a bit of ineffectual gauze. His eye glazed over the wound. You couldn't tell what he was thinking behind his mask, but you didn't need to. You only needed to convince him you were right.

“It’s stopped bleeding, Miggy. It’s just a scratch,” You held up your arm, flicking it with emphasis. His eyebrows raised for a moment, then flattened, staring at you with a dull rictus. “It was just a brief malfunction of the discus.”

Technically it was more of an impalement, but if Miguel wasn’t going to ask, you weren’t going to invite him to delve deeper. Otherwise, you might spend the next few hours of your life fixing a wound that surely would have closed up by the time results were back. The injury site mildly itched. That was all. Never mind, the slight, honey-colored rash migrating from the puncture site to your elbow. Or the referred pain. Minor things.

“You’re being stubborn.”

“You’re the one to talk.” You snapped the discus free from your sash and chucked it toward Miguel. He caught it with an unsurprising amount of ease, claws clicking in unison against the ineffectual metal.

“¡Qué problema!” he mocked, his voice dry and absent of discernible emotion.

You closed the distance between your bodies to slide your arms around his broad neck. His other hand came to your lower back. It was warm, the way he touched you, from the bundles of affection that fluttered in your belly to the heat dappling across your chest. You missed this every day. It made fleeing the infirmary all the more worth it.

“I put the anomaly in another discus. One that actually works, no thanks to your programming.”

“That’s what happens when you take things without asking.” He flicked the discus between his thumb and index finger, waggling it for emphasis. It was true that there had been nights that went with banging, clacks, clatters, and the occasional outburst when things weren’t quite going his way. There were a few discuses on his desk. You just so happened to take the one that malfunctioned. “I was working on it. ¿Qué era?”

“Oh,” you mumbled. “Just some stingy bees. What harm could they do?”

His eyes roamed your wound. You couldn't help but look down too, both horrified and fascinated by the way the rash had moved in just a brief few minutes. The colour had begun to fade. You glanced up, flattening your mouth into a slight, forced smile.

“Fine. If you're sure.”

To be fair, you secured many anomalies with and without the help of others. They all went into their cozy, temporary forcefield homes until they could be fairly redirected to their appropriate dimensions. In the downtime, you could help or hinder Miguel's progress. Then, your watch would alert you to another disturbance and the cycle would continue.

Until that morning.

Your watch blared, and blared, and blared some more. The early morning sun began to rise and cast offensive beams of light into your room. Usually, it didn’t bother you. But this morning, everything offended you from the scratch of silky sheets on your naked body to Lyla illuminating what darkness was left, all golden and cute. You wondered if that was how Miguel felt when you forgot to pull the curtains, strung out on the bed after he finished with you.

“Woah! Oops!” she turned, covering her eyes with her spindly fingers. A growing ache throbbed between your legs. It wasn’t quite the same dull soreness from Miguel’s late-night visit last night, either. “Sorry, sorry. Miguel--”

“He can handle it,” you bit out, snappier than you intended. It wasn't like you. “Or-- Jess. No, Gwen. Gwen can do it, she loves--”

“He asked for you.”

Of course, he did. You scrunched a pillow over your head. Your Miguel couldn’t see you this. Absolutely not. You debated getting up, ignoring what you called a negligible ache that was quickly morphing into a terrible pounding. You can't believe how quickly the thought fell apart, pushing yourself to sit up in bed. The ghost of his scent floods your nose, flashing memories of the night before.

Something at work set him off. Something that commanded no intimacy, but the mechanical release of his rage that wouldn't destroy precious resources. He sat on the edge of the bed, driving your mouth onto his cock with the aid of your hair bundled around his fist. You recalled the shakiness of his thighs under your fingers, his firm legs spread wide fucking your mouth with cold abandon. He chased his own orgasm selfishly, needing the release, needing to see your body painted by whips of his cum sprayed across your exposed breasts. He pulled you off in silence, inspecting the drool and cum that spilled down your chin and throat in rivulets. "What--"

Your face tightened, glancing down at the growing tension in your belly. Everything began to annoy you, especially the scratch of the sheets against your skin, your bed empty of his presence. How could you tolerate that uniform plastered to your ass? You buried into the offensive bed. This was fine. This was normal, recalling what you'd done last night. Surely, the burn had to do with the whole being launched through not one, but two crumbling buildings the day before. The dust and rubble. Were you close to your cycle?

“Tell him I’m dead,” and without another word, you resolved the call. Within seconds she popped up again, bent at the waist because this was your life now. Never could you just… take a day off. There was always something. You muffled your screams of protest into the mattress and dug your feet in, kicking off the sheets, the blankets, the pillows, all of it.

“Is this a fit? You’ve never had a fit before,” Lyla noticed. A fit? She thought the burning of your body was a fit? Damn AI. Resolve.

Resolve. Resolve. Resolve.

It became cathartic after a good while. Or it would have been if not for your senses hyper-fixating on every minor change in your body. Despite your apprehension, you knew. What was once a dull pain radiating from your forearm morphed into something much worse. Something you couldn’t blame on the rather average experience of being pelted through the average event of windows and concrete. It was more than a tingle. It burned as it coursed through your body.

You stumbled over the bundle of bedding into the bathroom. It was there that you realized that to your horror, you weren’t just lubricated, now you were soaked. Your fluids coursed down your thighs as you dabbed the region clean with a bundle of tissues. It did little good. Touching the area exasperated the issue. Maybe you needed an orgasm, maybe ten. An hour or so later, you slammed the heel of your palm into the mirror, fracturing it into shards of terrible glass that crumbled onto the countertop. Beads of blood dabbled onto your reflection.

“If you d--” resolve.

So not a reaction to your average bee sting. Correction. A great, big, fat colony of hissing, buzzing bees. The act of recalling information was like jamming your hand into fluid water to snatch a tiny hair tie. No matter how many times you tried to recall the information, you couldn’t quite grasp it. It was there, floating around your head, but inaccessible. Your mind traveled back to Miguel. How gentle his lips could be, trailing soft kisses along your neck and shoulder when you rode him in reverse. How deep he'd go.

"Fuck off!" Your watch blared again. Its beeping filled your bathroom, echoing over and over. You reached behind the door to pluck a silky white slip from its hook and dragged it over your head. You were about to resolve the call again when the hot timbre in his warm voice saying your name gave you pause. Your Miguel, popping up in a golden haze. You found yourself gazing at his full lips, full and plump. If only he was here. He could have his lips on your--

“What are you doing?”

Lost in thought, you failed to realize that Miguel had been calling you by name again. You shook your hazy mind free of the thoughts that formed a swirling cloud over your head. You slumped down the wall and onto the floor.

Help was what you failed to say. As your mouth opened, nothing came out. The words were not wording. The vulnerability of asking for help was palpable. You soothed yourself by shifting your hands underneath your skirt. What would he think if he saw you here-- ripped asunder by your own biology? Whore. Miguel lowered his gaze, his eyes squinting at the sweat dabbling down your neckline as he looked you over. He wouldn't want you anymore.

“Are you listening? ¡Coño! What is wrong with you!?”

Resolve.

You resolved him. Your Miggy-- resolved. Oh, you swallowed dryly. He wasn’t going to be happy about that. It wasn’t a matter of if Miguel would come for you. It was a matter of when. When he had time to separate himself from trashing-- whatever was the closest object to him in the lab-- to take out his rage on you. You reached for your medicine cabinet. You had more important things to worry about. First on the list? The searing heat.

Your watch was better off tucked away in a chest in the closet.

Night came with no solutions. You crouched on your window sill, chest rising and falling. You sought to stare at anything but the mindless buzz of the tv screen inside. Even with light pollution, some stars winked in the distance. Your body was a bundle of warm heat, buzzing with irritation after a fruitless day of soothing your body. You grew accustomed to your pert nipples against your silky slip, the lubricant coursing down your leg. At first, denial. Now, acceptance. You thought tomorrow might be better.

You felt his presence before you heard, smelled, or saw him. Through the sea of scorched sensations battering your senses, there was one that stood apart. A tickle that niggled at the back of your head. It could have been anyone, but you didn’t have to guess to know who it was. “Lyla."

“You haven’t called him all day,” Lyla squeaked.

“Called all-- I answered his call!” Your dress was matted to your body, cloaked in an abhorrent amount of sweat. It was only minutes ago that you retrieved your watch confident that you could bullshit something, anything, for a few days of reprieve. You jammed your shaking finger to resolve the call.

“Not all of them. Miguel was worried.”

“Worried! Lyla, that is not worried,” you spat. That was your Miguel, scaling the side of your apartment. His talons cracking the siding of your apartment. The reverberations spiraled up your legs, sending waves of anticipation lapping at your core. After your long day, you weren't sure how you were still somehow upright. With every crack of his talon into the brick siding, you were running out of time to come up with an excuse.

In a bid to escape, you fell into your room. The hard floor knocked the breath out of your dry lips. You stumbled onto your feet and supported yourself with a bookcase of less than half-read books. “Lyla, he can’t see me like this!”

“Then tell me what’s going on,” she popped back up. “C’mon, you can tell me, it can’t be that bad.”

If her tone was playful in some half-baked attempt to neutralize your fight, the threat was imminent. Your hand connected with the top of the window, applying pressure to close the window. A hair too late. At the same time, Miguel’s clawed hand curled around the bottom of the window sash. You were too slow for the man who excelled with power, speed, and efficiency. You weren't going to win this fight. Not with your body threatening to crack at the very sight of your man's strength.

Though you saw him nearly daily, he always took your breath away. His sinewy body was always a sight, his suit accentuated his thick and fine cut. You moistened your lips, longing to run your fingers through his thick dark brown hair as you did every night. You caught his sharp gaze a second longer than you should have.

“Open up,” he whispered coolly.

He was a distraction. The wind was not on your side either, blowing wisps of his scent into your overwrought senses. His natural musk mixed with the sweat of a hard day's work. Somewhere in there, bitter blood. You could smell the caramelized scent of the flaky, buttery empanadas and hot coffee you shared the day before. It gave you pause, his intoxicating smell and the sultry trill of his voice. But you couldn’t let him see you, not like this.

“Oop, there he is. Just checking on you,” Lyla chittered. Resolve.

“Miggy, please go away,” you sobbed in frustration, shifting to shoulder the window. “Why are you so stubborn!?”

“It’s who I am.”

The window cracked all at once. With mere milliseconds to respond to the sash careening into the upper rail, you whirled past the bedroom door. Miguel broke into a run behind you with long strokes of his legs. He made contact, sending you barreling into your lazy sapphire couch from the impact. You saw stars for a fraction of a second before you lurched on your palms and elbows, scrambling off of the couch and across the floor. His hand caught your ankle and dragged you underneath his body.

“¡Ay!” you bit out. “No, no no no. Miggy!”

“¡Callate!”

His hand wrapped tightly around your throat to force complacency, pinning you back to the hardwood floor. Your palms slammed onto his chest, drawing lines down his chest. Bits of pathetic electricity fizzled on his broad, muscular chest, a consequence of your fading focus. That focus was eviscerated when Miguel threw his hips flat against your core. Your frantic fidgeting against Miguel soothed some of the terrible, buzzing pressure rattling between your legs like warm honey on a sore wound. The ache for his relief became more important than the impulse for substantial breaths.

“Don’t move. Why are you--”

“I can’t help it,” you cut him off, straining against his large palm to stare at his crotch. His gaze fell on yours, following the path to his soft cock. His eyes widened with the sudden attention. Tears threatened to spill over from your eyes, pricked with spikes of pain. "It's too much!"

You ate your shame with his body crouched between your legs and his large palm choking the air out of your throat. The influx of air not only brought your scent, but your day-long desperation to fix what you believed was wrong. He could smell it now. He could see it now. He could hear it in your voice. He knew why you failed to answer his calls. The violent jabbing of the resolve button. Throwing your watch into your cramped closet to ignore the calls. The pheromones that soaked your apartment. It was unavoidable.

“You can’t help it,” he repeated. Miguel considered you with razor-sharp eyes, nearly as sharp as the talons that rescinded into his arms.

"I'll see about that." His hand left your neck to reveal bundles of bumpy shivers that soared across your skin. He raised his finger to wipe away the wet tears that fell from your flushed cheeks. Then dropping lower, Miguel chased the thin straps of your gown with his claw and slid the offending fabric off of your breast. The nub was as hard as it had been hours ago when you twerked the nipple between your fingertips and dreamed of Miguel.

“You’re...” he cupped your breast in your palm and massaged your nipple with one sharp twist of his thumb. The gasp that left your lips wasn’t one you were proud of. Your undulating hips that ground down on his cock weren’t entirely unwarranted. You needed it. "Hot. As if you're in heat."

This couldn’t be happening. From a ball of rage to one of arousal, he released a tiny amused chuckle. You spent much of the day in different parts of the apartment with your hand, toy, ice, and water into your body to soothe this terrible ache. So Miguel wouldn't see you like this. It was this moment you sought to avoid after your long day: The moment of Miguel's disapproval. Now he laughed at you.

“Happy?” you sobbed into the forearm that kept Miguel stable. “Go away, someone else could use your stupid help.”

“Don’t you need me?” Miguel dipped his head down. Strands of his dark hair tickled your hypersensitive skin. With the lightweight fabric of his suit, pressing your cunt back against his clothed bulge felt wonderful. You bit your lower lip and watched his cock jut against its fabric. You lifted your puffy eyes to his gaze and found a wicked gleam there. He knew it wasn’t enough contact for the pressure and painful spasms to abate. Deep down, you knew that Miguel was your only hope for relief. Who else could, or would, you call in this condition? Mostly because Miguel always fixed everything.

"Miggy," you murmured. After this pitiful display, he wasn't rejecting you? Your mind flowed weightless and light. The terror of your day faded under his careful caress. In its place, comfort that he would take care of you.

“Don’t you?” His hand snaked between your folds and found it soaked wet, the low throbbing of your pussy palpable. He retracted his fingers and spread the sticky fluid between his thumb and middle finger. At some point, silence became better than an answer. Miguel brought his hand down on your cunt for a sharp slap. Bundles of nerves cried out under the abuse. It shook free a squeal from your lips, bitten raw by the pressure of the day. Your head bobbed into a mechanical nod as to save yourself from another slap.

“You know how to ask. It’s si Miguel, por favor Miguel.”

You needed the warm sensation of his cum. But making those words proved too difficult. Your canines pierced bloody holes in your lower lip. You clawed up his forearms, trying to leverage and force him closer. Miguel grabbed your shoulders and thrashed them back down onto the floor. You felt bad for the downstairs neighbors.

“Say it.”

“Miggy,” you looked into his eyes. They were blown wide, nearly fully black with a thin outline of scarlet, chasing the outline of your exposed breast. For all his talk, you realized he wasn't immune. Even with his face tight, his eyes focused on the same thing you needed. Maybe, all this time, you were baiting Miguel with half-assed answers. They were invitations. Invitations to come to fill this need you had. You would be lying if you said that wasn’t what you wanted this whole time. Finally, you had him where you wanted him.

Miguel broke eye contact first. He cupped his plush lips around your nipple, suckling the breast taut and wet. You cried out in surprise and arched into Miguel’s mouth, enticed by the fangs that grazed your nipple. As quickly as he came, he was gone.

You lurched up, palming Miguel's dick through his pants. His hips bucked into your palm. He refused to make any sound as he considered your next movements, releasing Miguel’s cock from his suit. Impatience and need coalesced into your brave movements, sliding your palm against him. He was impossibly thick and hard, dribbling at the tip. Miguel huffed a small noise as your palm ran over him. You dared to call it a moan.

Miguel sneered and shoved you back onto the floorboards. “I’ll only tell you one more time. Ask me properly.”

"You do too, don't you?" You giggled. A noise that grated his ear. With the belief you wouldn’t bolt, Miguel shifted back onto his knees. You wouldn’t. There was nowhere left to run. Not that you even wanted to, fat and hungry off Miguel's growing desperation.

"Come here." He snaked his hands underneath your knees, dragged you close, and pushed them to your chest. Your eyes fluttered shut. Moments later, the sensation of his thick dick sliding against your engorged folds forced them back open. It gave you just enough relief through the pulsing pain to look at him with your hazy eyes. From this angle, you appreciated how large Miguel had gotten. His round cock-head bobbed and crested over your mound as it rubbed against your aching clit. His face was trained, focused. He wasn't going to relent first.

The nagging pressure never abated. You sought something more, something better, the sensation of being filled. With every glide, you squeezed your walls in protest to his absence. Your hips protested the restriction of your movement, shimmying against the firm hold he had that kept you in place. You wanted more than that. You wanted true relief from his teasing. Miguel drew back to inspect the fluid over his fat shaft as held you down. You gave in, whining at him like a brat.

“Por,” you scratched his forearms. “Por favor, Miggy. You don’t know what it's like.”

“All fours-- face down.”

The cacophony of desire battered and overcame any other human emotion you could have. You complied, crawling onto your fuzzy indigo rug for what came next. Miguel’s gloved hand skimmed across your ass, middle finger skimming toward the center. He followed up his gentle touch by reeling back his hand and cracking it across your ass, searing the nerves alive. Once, twice, and then a third. Tears pricked your cheeks again, a consequence of your nerves being overwrought and now assailed.

“Miggy!”

He shushed you with fervor, another thwack beating the jiggling flesh hot and red. Your legs trembled under the weight of his slaps. “Ignore my calls again and you’ll get much worse.”

“I didn’t-- you wouldn't want me,” your lips parted in defense of what you’d done. Miguel dipped down to spread your folds, rolling his index finger along your pulsing walls. Your body drew him in, squeezing and urging him forward. Your swollen walls were impossibly tight, straining to bring him in more and more.

"You know I do."

The need for more devoured any other thought, any threats of what he’d do next time. You rolled your hips to ride his hand. In place of a slap, Miguel slid another finger slid in beside the first to stretch your walls open. He faltered at your next words and slid his fingers free.

“Not like… not like I need you.”

“Who decides that?” he pressed on your upper back to force it down. You complied. Miguel stumbled forward, finally pressing his thick head to your pulsing entrance. His round head pressed, just barely, into your wet hole. You clenched down, inviting him into your warmth. You weren’t sure he’d actually give it to you. It was so damn close.

“You do, Miggy,” you murmured, pushing back. He watched as his shaft slowly disappeared into your body, your apprehension of retaliation rendered you too slow to finish.

Miguel snatched your waist and forced you to take the rest, a soppy squelch lubricating his shaft. The sound that slipped from your lips was entirely uncouth, punctuated by his unforgiving thrusts. Your walls strained around his cock. No matter how many times you took him, the drag of his cock and slap of balls against your body always felt somehow like the first. It filled that ache-- the consistent burning need to have him here, inside of your greedy body, scratching something that you could not itch all day. It’s what you wanted.

“That’s right, I do.” Miguel rumbled, short, punctuated thrusts beating your clenching cunt into complacency. The pleasure ruptured through your cunt-- battering his dick in response. He let loose a sharp grunt followed by a string of curses. Your sweet release spilled over his dick and balls, dripping down your thighs. Your legs threatened to shook, but Miguel was unwilling to allow your trembling legs to give out.

"Ah! Miggy!" His fangs punctured your shoulder to force you to stay in position, his pelvis stuttering against yours. His growl punctuated the warm, soothing cum that soothed your walls like warm honey over a wound. Your walls milked him free of his cum, spasming in response to his orgasm. He pieced himself together against your back, pulling his fangs free and settling a soft kiss over the burning wound on your shoulder. As if he hadn't been the one to tear his fangs into the crook of your neck.

“You’re not letting go,” he hummed in annoyance. He turned his attention down to your ass, ghosting his fingers over the healing bruises over your backside. You squealed, jerking forward. He followed you forward, punching a hole in the floor by your side. “Fuck, don’t move!”

You cast your attention back toward Miguel. He huffed forcefully out of his nostrils. He motioned toward your ass as if it were obvious-- your walls were clamped over his cock, unwilling or otherwise unable to let him go, as if he had any more cum to give in that current moment. You took it all.

“I. I didn't-- I can’t--”

“Yeah, I know. That Bee venom does that. Mine should neutralize it.”

At some point, you murmured. It sure as hell wasn’t doing it now, keeping him seated into your cunt that bubbled with the mixture of his and your release. “You knew about it? I could have died!”

Miguel chuckled.

“You wouldn’t. You’re too stubborn to die,” he sighed, fiddling with his watch. The tests-- that you never had ran. Ones that he suggested. Ones that you refused quite openly. “Why would I deny myself the fun?”

His cock slipped free. Your hips dropped and fell slack against the floor. You weren’t proud of the cum that oozed out of your ass over your decimated room, nor the fact that your useless neighbors hadn’t called for help once. Not that you needed it-- but still. You palpated your stomach, slightly distended. Miguel bent down and gathered the mixture of your bodily fluids on his fingers, suckling his own fingers dry. You watched his wet tongue swirl around his fingertips. It wasn't fair.

“Fun? What fun!? Do you know how long I-- You’re a mean man, Miguel O’Hara.”

He lurched over, his breath tickling your lips. He kissed you, salty and sweet. Your nose scrunched up, pouting against his lips. He left the room for the kitchen, fetching a wet cloth to clean his body with. He zipped himself back into his suit shortly after and dropped the sodden cloth by the cum puddling under your ass.

“Never said I wasn’t.”

#miguel ohara oneshot #miguel o'hara x you #miguel o'hara oneshot #miguel x reader #miguel ohara x reader #miguel o'hara/reader #Miguel ohara/reader #atsv imagine #atsv x you #atsv x reader #atsv imagines #miguel o'hara imagine #miguel o'hara x y/n #across the spiderverse imagine #miguel o'hara x reader #miguel o’hara smut

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catscidr · 2 months

Note

Hiii I just found your acc and really like your stuff! Can I pls request lazy morning sex with Jing Yuan (and any character you think might fit this prompt) I just looked and there is not one fic like this of this man when he's like... right there. He's like so perfect for this scenario. Thank you sm and have a great day/night! <3

i just finished writing this its 3am i think i blacked out. everybody give it up for my man jing yuan i need himSO BAAAAD AAHHH i hope u like this nonnie ♡♡ cw: nsfw, mdni. semi-clothed sx, soft dom jy, clt stimulation, size kink if you squint, praise, pet names, slight overstimulation, cuddling n fucking face-to-face, riding, creampie. /not proofread ill do that in the morning. dies/ includes: fem reader, jing yuan, fu xuan mentionned wc: 3,2k

You loved and hated waking up next to Jing Yuan in the morning. On one hand, the rhythm of his beating heart lulls you to sleep, and he makes for a wonderful personal heater; but on the other... he’s a little too comfortable. So much so that every time you sleep with him, you, without fail, end up being late for work. That, or you barely make it in time. At times you would point your finger at him and accuse him of being a wholesome, sleepy version of an incubus, and he would laugh in that smooth, baritone voice of his.

Regardless.

This morning was one of those mornings, of course. Jing Yuan came back home for the first time in two weeks the night before- being the general of the Luofu means that he would occasionally have to leave for an unknown amount of time to take care of business. Every time he had to leave, you’d linger around him a little longer than usual, wrap your arms around him tighter than you normally would and let your lips linger on his cheek long enough for the sun to rise completely.

He’d come back so late last night that you were already sleeping in your shared bed, legs haphazardly thrown over the bed sheets in a poor attempt to regulate your body temperature. The button-up shirt you wore made his heart lunge in his throat in the best way, but the last thing he wanted was to wake you. So, he’d carefully remove his armored uniform, take his shirt off and slip into the bed with you with nothing but his briefs on, and pull you into his chest. You had unconsciously nuzzled closer to him, your body craving the warmth of his body you had missed oh so dearly.

Which explained the situation you were now in. The dilemma you found yourself stuck in. Jing Yuan was back; you had your face mere millimeters away from his plush chest, his arms held you tight against him, and his soft snores almost convinced you to fall back asleep. Keyword; almost.

As much as you loved him you knew that he’d be here once you came back from work, so with as much resolve as you could muster, you try wriggling your way out of his grip. With him being as big as he was, though, it didn’t surprise you when he tightened his hold on you, treating you as if you were his plushie threatening to fall off his bed and he was a child.

You let out a quiet oof from his strong grip and reevaluate your options. There weren’t many options, but at least you had choices; either you wake him up, convince him to let you go and then get to work early enough that you don’t risk getting written up again, or you let him hold you and... arrive at work late. Again. Which was the last thing you wanted, given the fact that your boss had specifically told you that she couldn’t allow you to miss another meeting.

Step one was to summon the ability to be even more stubborn than your lover. Step two is to carefully wriggle your arms up, high enough that you can move your hands and you can use them to your advantage against the beast. It took you some time, given the fact that they were stuck between his and your body, but you succeeded, nonetheless. And you only got one displeased grunt from the sleeping general in response.

As you’re about to proceed with step three, Jing Yuan cracks an eye open and buries his head into the crook of your neck while curling into you, effectively trapping you between his plush muscles and the duvet.

Could have gone better.

“Jing Yuan,” you huff, your voice sounding more like a whine than anything. The general doesn’t respond, leading you to believe he fell asleep again, but his morning voice graces your ears before you have the time to curse him out. “Mhm, I’m up,” he hums, pressing a lazy kiss to your neck in a false apology.

You wriggle in response, grunting from the sheer effort. One of the downsides that came with cuddling with Jing Yuan was the way he could keep you right there with him as long as he wanted, curse his strength.

Seeing as he wasn’t going to budge, you decide that two can play that game. You stare into his silky mop of silver hair, pondering whether you should negotiate your freedom or if you should play dirty- but where's the fun in trying to talk your way out of this predicament? You bring a hand up to gently brush his bangs away from his face. He makes a soft noise of contentment at the feeling of your fingers delicately brushing against his face and, before he can grow too comfortable, you lean in and bite his cheek.

The general makes a noise of surprise, grunting as he pulls away from you to narrow his eyes at his perpetrator. His pout morphs into a lazy smile as he holds your glare. “If you wanted to play you could have just said so, sweetheart,” he says lowly, moving his free hand from your back to letting it rest lazily on your hips, thumb rubbing gentle circles on the exposed skin.

You stick your tongue out at him stubbornly, “Not now, I have to get up.” Unfazed by your headstrong attitude, Jing Yuan shifts one of his legs to come between yours- his strong thigh sandwiched between your soft ones. A surprised gasp leaves your lips in response to the smooth way he molds his body to yours, but you refuse to allow yourself to be swayed by him.

“Aeons- ‘Yuan please,” you huff quietly, but he notices the way your voice catches in your throat. His golden eyes briefly shine with what could only be described as mischief and, with a smooth motion, Jing Yuan grabs ahold of your shoulder and swivels you around so that your back is against his chest. A surprised oof rips from your throat as you bounce lightly on the bed from the impact- he lowers his face to yours, a rich, deep chuckle echoing in your ears as your resolve begins to melt away.

Taking advantage of the new position, Jing Yuan throws a leg over yours to trap you in and, in turn, grinds his growing bulge against your ass. If he wasn’t hard at the sight of your face in the morning when he first woke up, he sure was now; while he slowly ruts against you, he allows his hands to wander down to the hem of your shirt.

You stifle a moan as the metaphorical dam in your head begins to crumble apart. Sure, you would see him when you would get back home later, but you were with him now. Laying here with your lover, safe and comfortable in his arms while his clothed erection lazily thrusts up into your heat.

As you let out needy whines that you aren’t even aware you’re voicing, Jing Yuan brings his lips closer to your ear. “Five more minutes?” he asks with a knowing smile, his own breath becoming more and more rugged the more he rubs up against you. Gods, he could feel you throbbing through his sweatpants and your panties.

You swallow thickly and whine in response, your head already fogging up with desire. Going a whole two weeks without sex wasn’t particularly hard; you had your trusty toy with you and your hands if it happened to run out of battery and you were that desperate. But you weren’t- and during these past two weeks you had felt just fine, totally not pent up or even the slightest bit sexually frustrated. Your job had kept you busy, but when you’re stuck in Jing Yuan’s arms after not feeling him for so long, after not feeling his cock twitching inside you, you felt like something snapped inside you.

Distantly, you think about how pathetic this must look for him; only a few lingering touches and his hips pressing up against yours from the back and that’s all it takes for you to drench your panties. But really, you couldn’t care less. You knew he was just as pent up as you were.

You bring one of your hands down to fumble with the hem of your panties to quickly take them off, down your legs. Hearing Jing Yuan’s hoarse breathing in your ears only made you even more eager to feel his skin right up against yours. Maybe part of the reason why you were so incredibly turned on was because of how tired you still felt, but either way, you needed him. And he needed you just as badly.

The general’s hands leave you temporarily to slide his sweatpants down to his thighs, low enough for his cock to leave its confines. Precum builds at the tip, swollen and pulsing with the need to bury itself inside you. He sighs, one of his hands coming up to stroke his length, thumb sliding over the slit every time his fist comes up. You whine at the loss of his hands on you and reach back to take his hand, bringing it between your legs to rub your clit. He laughs at your impatience, shifting his weight on his other arm to lean over you properly.

“Someone’s impatient and greedy,” he goads. “I thought you wanted to get to work, darling,” he purrs in your ear, his middle and ring finger coming together to tease your bud, riling you up further and making a mess between your legs. A strained fuck leaves your lips as you back your ass up into him, his hard cock tucked between your thighs, rubbing into your arousal. “Please just-” a whimper interrupts you as Jing Yuan increases the pace of his fingers, “-inside. I-I need to feel you,” you huff, feeling too empty. He considers teasing you some more, listening to the wet sounds of your pussy bounce off the walls of your shared bedroom, but his own patience was also waning thin.

A quiet noise of protest leaves you when the man takes his hand away from your bud. He brings his fingers up to his lips to lick your slick off of them, moaning at the taste. Your thighs clench in response, jerking the general’s cock unintentionally.

“Fuck,” he growls into your ear, hurriedly taking his length into his hand to guide it into your soaking wet cunt. Your mouth hangs open when you feel his tip slip between your lips, needy noises slipping from your mouth. Inch after inch he sinks into you, slowly letting you accommodate to his girth. He finally bottoms out, stretching your hole as you keen and whine from the satisfaction of feeling so full.

He waits a few beats to allow you to get used to him, your hoarse breathing matching his own. When he feels you clamping down on him less, he starts to thrust- pulling out slowly and thrusting back in sharply. You moan aloud, mouth agape as his cock bullies your spongy walls relentlessly.

“Jing Yua-aan,” you whimper, hands gripping onto his forearms weakly, nails forming crescent shapes into his skin. He reduces you to a sleepy, blabbering, moaning mess as the sound of skin slapping against skin echoes in the bedroom. With one hand splayed across your lower tummy, he presses down, making you arch your back into him from the sudden added pressure and pleasure.

“Y’ like that? You missed me, huh?” he taunts, though his own voice trails off into a needy moan the more he feels the drag of your walls along his cock. “I know I’ve- fuck, m-missed you,” Jing Yuan stutters, thrusts becoming increasingly sloppy as he feels a familiar coil form in his abdomen. His thigh muscles clench as he wills away his orgasm, needing to feel you all around him for a bit longer.

Unable to respond you simply nod dumbly, the words leaving your brain as it’s reduced to mush. Your lover hums, a smirk stretching his lips, “Yeah?” He brings his face closer to yours, your breaths tangling with each other before he smashes his lips against yours, the angle awkward and uncomfortable. But you don’t care- the added stimulation makes you melt as you crane your head back to kiss him properly, your lips occasionally leaving his from the force of his thrusts.

Jing Yuan moans into your mouth and breaks the kiss. He looks at you with pure lust swirling in his golden eyes, your face sinful and needy. An idea pops up in the general’s mind and he smiles down at you, pressing one last chaste kiss to the corner of your mouth.

“Ah, w-what are you-” you slur, your sentence interrupted by the general manhandling you to switch positions. He kicks the sheets off completely and places both of his large hands on your waist, gripping you firmly as he lays on his back, placing you on top him. His cock slips out of your walls with a wet shlick and you whine at the feeling of being so suddenly empty, twisting your body so that your thighs straddle his hips. Jing Yuan looks up at you with a small, cat-like smirk and your breath catches in your throat.

His silky hair splayed out on the pillows beneath him, cheeks flushed, and eyes piercing into yours made your knees buckle and you suddenly froze in your movements. Feeling your pussy throb against him, Jing Yuan chuckles heartily, one of his hands leaving your waist to stroke his hard cock, your slick dripping down on him.

“Lift your hips up and sit on my cock, darling,” he orders softly, a stark contrast to the way he looks at you- with pure, unfiltered lust and adoration. Your body moves automatically as you obey, hovering your tight pussy over his swollen tip, and lower yourself down. Your mouth opens in a silent moan, and you feel his girth stretching you out again as you begin to bounce on his hard cock.

“Yeahh just like that,” he hums, the hand that held his length moving up to rest on your stomach, thumb jutting out to rub tight circles over your sensitive clit. You squeak in surprise, your body jolting forward, and place your hands over his plush chest for balance. “Feels good, baby? Feel how deep my cock is?”

A moan leaves his kiss-bitten lips and you swear you physically felt yourself get pushed closer to your nearing orgasm, the noises leaving his lips amplifying your pleasure tenfold. “Taking me so well, look at that pretty pussy,” he coos, and you keen as his half-lidded eyes burn into yours. He feels your walls clench in response to the praise and flashes you a dangerous smirk; he places his feet flat on the bed and tightens his grip on your waist to buck his hips up, making you topple over him. Your gaze is unfocused and blurry as you look down at him, heavy breaths leaving your lips, tears threatening to roll down your rosy cheeks from the pace he set.

“And look at you,” he whispers lovingly under his breath. Jing Yuan throws his head back deeper into the pillows, keeping his eyes on you as he watches you lose yourself to the addicting feeling of his cock bullying your sopping cunt. “Y-Yuan,” you whine, your climax threatening to rip through you as you bite your lip to stifle your needy moans. He tuts, leaning up to bite your lip to pull you out of your pleasure-filled daze.

“Pay attention to me darling. Thaat’s it, let 'em out for me.” The general huffs, brows furrowing in concentration to focus on the feeling of your warm walls surrounding him, sucking him in endlessly. His thumb presses down onto your clit roughly to bring you closer to your orgasm; you whimper in turn, a chorus of oh fuck and please’s leaving your puffy lips. “I-I’m so close,” you whine, eyelids fluttering shut as you feel your control leaving your body, the tight coil of your orgasm threatening to snap.

Jing Yuan groans, hips bucking up into you, heavy balls slapping against your ass as he keeps up the pace, persistent. “Come on, give it to me, pretty girl.” He coos, voice breaking into a whine, close to climaxing himself. His thrusts become sloppier, and he bites his bottom lip to stifle a string of hearty, needy moans.

His hips still up into you as he cums, thick ropes of his seed painting your walls white. Jing Yuan’s thumb flicks your puffy clit until you climax as well, your cunt milking his sensitive cock. You whimper, feeling your clit buzz with overstimulation as he keeps rubbing it with purpose. “S-Stop, stooop,” you cry, your eyes burning with tears as the dull pain turns into pleasure, “Aeons you’re so tight.” Your lover slows down his movements, easing the tension in his muscles, until he stops circling your clit and gently places both of his hands on your waist. His hands slide up and down your sweaty skin, soothing the bruises that will inevitably form.

Your body slumps, exhausted and utterly spent, arms caging him as you rest your face in the crook of his neck. You both feel sticky and sweaty, but the warmth you shared made up for the need to jump in the shower to wash yourselves off. Jing Yuan shifts his hips so that his softening cock slips out of you; he inhales sharply, his cock still sensitive.

“I missed you,” you mumble quietly, voice muffled from the way you're pressed into him and the pillows and press a chaste kiss to his neck. “Yeah? I never would have guessed,” the general chuckles, arms coming up to hug you tightly, one hand placed behind your head to cradle you close to him. You hit him with a huff but then sigh, content.

“Mmh, but I missed you too, darling,” Jing Yuan replies softly. He holds you as your eyes droop, exhaustion taking ahold of your tired body. His own eyelids droop as he listens to your soft heartbeat, and soon enough, you’re both sleeping, legs tangled together while Jing Yuan’s strong arms keep you laid atop of him.

⸝⸝⸝⸝⸝⸝

You’re not sure what time it is when you wake up, but you hear a phone ringing loudly in your ear, jolting you away from your peaceful dreams. You don’t recognize the tune, and as you’re about to wriggle your way out of the dozing general’s arms, he swings one arm over to the nightstand next to your bed and answers it without looking at the caller ID. “Jing Yuan speaking,” he says in a hoarse voice, eyes still closed.

Even without his phone on speaker you could make out a very loud, very shrill voice from the other side of the line, yelling out two hours late, a single mission and get your ass over here. Jing Yuan doesn’t react, the same sleepy, cat-like smile on his face as he listens to the person rant. They eventually let up and hang up, saying something you couldn’t quite catch. Your lover haphazardly tosses his phone somewhere on the bed and loops his arm back around you, nuzzling into your neck.

“Who was that?” you ask, voice cracking from how much you abused your vocal cords (apparently) two hours ago. He scoffs, amused, and pulls away just enough to speak clearly.

“Lady Fu Xuan,” he says slyly. “I should get dressed before she decides to read into my divination and sees things she probably shouldn’t.”

#୧ ‧₊˚orderup!#honkai star rail x reader #honkai star rail x you #jing yuan x reader #jing yuan x y/n #jing yuan x you #jing yuan smut #hsr x reader #hsr x reader smut #honkai star rail smut #jing yuan x reader smut #hsr smut

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cyberslvts · 4 months

Text

PHONE | w. maximoff

summary: You call your wife and decided to show her just how much you miss her

warnings: 18+ MDNI phone sex, guided masterbation, fingering, only thing on my wishlist this year is nasty phone sex with wanda

word count: 3k

It had been about five days since your wife left for her business trip, and to say you missed her was an understatement.

The house held a heavy silence as you settled into bed for the night, pulling the comforters up to your waist, feeling a subtle emptiness creep up when you looked at the empty bed space next to you. Prompting restless tossing and turning until you ended up facing your nightstand, the soft glow of your digital clock highlighted a jumble of trinkets: a small bowl cradling Wanda's extensive collection of rings, and a few pairs of earrings, a forgotten mug of now-cold tea, a petite bottle of hand cream, and a book precariously hanging off the edge

Your eyes continued to run along the smooth wood until they landed on a framed photo of you and Wanda, Captured during last year's anniversary celebration, Wanda had taken you into the city your faces slightly pushed together, painted with toothy grins as you both bundled up in thick winter coats leaning into each other for warmth.

Your heart swelled as you looked at the photo. Wanda's bright grin and sparkling eyes, filled with so much love, only made the ache you felt for her at that moment worse. She truly was the best partner you could ever ask for, always so attentive and devoted to you, making you feel like the most important person in the world, and in her eyes you were.

She was so sweet to you, calling and texting you whenever she got the chance, in between meetings or as she was leaving the hotel. Always eager and enthusiastic just to hear your voice on the rare occasions your timings synced up. Given the distance, Wanda was behind by two hours, leaving your calls awkward to match up, always missing each other by a few minutes. When Wanda was just waking up you were stepping into the office, and when she was leaving work you were already asleep.

You supposed she was eating dinner right now, probably with her co-workers or indulging in takeout from the Italian place she had previously mentioned. You felt silly, missing her this much when she had only been gone for a few days.

As you continued to look at the photograph you felt something blossom inside you, shifting slightly, your foot began to run up and down the side of your leg as your thumb swiped over her face in the picture. It felt like it had been an eternity since she last touched you, which you knew wasn't true as she had made sure to give you an extra memorable morning before she left for her flight, fucking you into oblivion before giving your limp body a sweet kiss goodbye.

You returned the photograph to the nightstand and rolled over in the bed until you were pressed against Wanda's pillow, you shamelessly dug your nose into the fabric, the scent of her shampoo and perfume invaded your senses and made you feel like she was right there with you. Your body temperature increased and your clothes started to feel a little too tight around your body.

Before you could rile yourself up anymore, your phone lit up the room with a loud ring. You smiled when you saw Wanda's contact name appear on the screen,

“Hi honey” your tone comes out huskier than you expected, you hear the sound of a door shutting from the other side of the call,

“Hi sweetheart, I didn't wake you did I?” Wanda attentively asks, feeling an immediate warmth as your voice reaches across the distance.

“No, not at all” You answer, readjusting yourself so your back is propped up against your headboard “Did you just get back?”

“Yeah, we got out early today,” She tucks the phone between her neck and shoulders, and you can hear the sounds of ruffling clothes, as both her hands are occupied with unbuttoning her suit jacket.

You bite your lip, imagining Wanda coming home in her work clothes. her hair messy from the walk home, the collar of her white shirt undone, looking so sexily disheveled. You sat up straighter in your bed, not wanting to get too carried away.

As the minutes passed you fell into your usual routine, exchanging the details of your day, from the mundane to the extraordinary, the conversation flowed effortlessly. Wanda listened attentively, her genuine interest was evident in the thoughtful questions she posed and the occasional chuckle at your natural charm. In turn, you hung on every word as she recounted her workday. The familiar cadence of her voice brought comfort, making it feel as if she were right there in bed with you.

Eventually, she tossed her jacket over the back of her chair, flopping down onto the bed in exhaustion, letting out a breathy sigh that you didn't miss.

“You sound tired, are you sleeping okay?” you questioned, whilst massaging the divit of your palm against the top of your thighs, trying to dry the sweat that had formed.

“No,” she huffed out, rolling onto her back, and placing one hand over her stomach. “The bed is terrible, the sheets are so scratchy and the mattress is too hard, I'd much rather be back in our bed, with you.”

Her unfiltered honesty made you giggle and you smiled, knowing that Wanda had a tendency to not receive a good night's sleep if it wasn't spent wrapped up against your side.

“I wish you were here too, I miss you.”

"I miss you too," she replied honestly, staring up at the popcorn ceiling, picturing you doing the same. Your back is flat against the mattress, hair sprawled out along the pillows, your shirt slightly riding up your torso, exposing your skin. Her thoughts began to slip, and it was becoming harder to focus on the conversation. The sultry tone of your voice played in her mind, and she couldn't help but imagine the sensation of her fingertips tracing patterns on your skin.

“Yeah?” you purred, your voice smoothe against Wanda's ears. She didn't fail to recognize the familiar switch in your tone, and she felt a rush of excitement start to fill her.

“Yes baby, so much, I hate being away from you.” She rasped out, closing her eyes when she heard your breathing start to pick up. The atmosphere between you two shifted, becoming heavier and more intimate.

“What do you miss about me?” You pressed, wanting her to fall into the same lusted haze you were trapped in.

“Everything” She immediately responded, as if she had been waiting all week to answer this question. Wanda's fingers absentmindedly traced circles on the edge of the bedsheet as she continued, “I miss touching you, and feeling you against me, I can't stop thinking about it”

A quiet sigh escaped her lips, her imagination running wild with the vivid memories of you together.

“Tell me more” you bit your lip, pressing and rubbing your thighs together in anticipation. Your head felt fuzzy, and your arousal swelled, a throbbing pulse resonating from your core, working yourself up so much you felt as if you were going to explode, You weren't sure if it was because you haven't seen your wife in almost a week, the distance amplifying your neediness for her. Regardless, every word exchanged over the phone was igniting a spark in you that needed to be taken care of.

Wanda's voice dipped even lower, as she happily obliged to your request “I keep thinking about that morning before I left, how loud you were and how pretty you sounded”

“My strap couldn't even stay inside you, it kept slipping out because your pussy was so wet” she teased you, already knowing your cheeks were flushing a vibrant red in embarrassment. She ran a hand down her stomach, her skin felt ablaze, a heat coursing through her that made every inch of her body tingle. She slowly unbuttoned her dress shirt, the cloth splitting apart and falling down the opposite sides of her torso, until only a black bra remained covering her upper half. Her hand fell down her breasts, lightly squeezing them and letting out a moan right into your ear.

You sighed, listening to her husky voice, the vibrations from the phone tickling your jaw. You felt a familiar wetness start to pool and you sunk lower into the bed until you were flat against the sheets. Wanda hears you rustling around the bed and presses the phone harder into her ear.

“Fuck baby, I miss you so much” You let a moan escape your lips, your hands slipping under the blankets to begin stroking yourself over your underwear. “I've made myself cum twice since you left, just thinking about you”

A throaty moan escaped her lips involuntarily, immediately painting a vivid picture of you in her head. You, alone in your bed, your hand buried between your legs, moaning her name. The sound echoed in her ears, remembering nights when she made you sound just like that. Your voice, now a seductive whisper, only fueled her daydream, making her cheeks flush as she felt a wave of desire wash over her.

“God, you're really turning me on right now” You heard the metal clicks of Wanda fumbling with her belt, with an alarming speed, she shed the rest of her clothes throwing them across the room so they were out of her way. She pushes herself farther up the bed and slides under the covers, her hand immediately finding her wetness, where she starts rubbing gentle circles to her clit.

Your hand slides under your panties, running a finger through your pussy and spreading it all over your folds and clit. The whine that reverberates inside your bedroom encourages wanda to do the same. “What are you wearing right now?”

You don't even open your eyes, which were squeezed shut, already knowing exactly what you had on “Just my underwear. the red ones”

Her grip on the phone tightened and she let out a string of curses, she knew exactly what you were talking about. The pressure she has on her bud gets harder imagining you in her favorite pair of panties, how pretty and fuckable she knew you looked right now, and how she couldn't do anything about it.

You slowly push a finger into your slippery walls, and an immediate sense of disappointment washes over you. A frustrated whine escapes your lips as you miss the expertise of your wife's fingers, vivid memories playing in your mind of how Wanda's touch could make you scream and cum within minutes.

"I need you so bad, Wanda," you confess, the desperation evident in your voice. Tightening your hold on the phone, as if it were your only lifeline to her. "It doesn't feel as good when I do it.".

Wanda's heart beats faster, hearing your desperate little whines, trying to find any hint of pleasure to relieve the ache she wasn't there to take care of. Wanda promised her self as soon as she arrived home she would fuck you so good, long and hard, taking you in every position possible, just what you deserved for being her good, patient wife.

"I know, baby," she purrs, her words weaving a tapestry of lust. "Just close your eyes and imagine my touch, my fingers doing all the work." Wanda's explicit instructions and encouragement make you throb, and you start to squirm against the bed eagerly awaiting her next command.

"Go slow, baby," Wanda instructs, her voice a sultry whisper through the phone. "Add another finger and curl it, just like how I do it." You let out a low moan, attempting to replicate her movements. Though it's not quite the same, it's undeniably better than before. Sliding in another finger, you leave it there for a moment, feeling your walls squeeze and flutter around it.

Gently curling your fingers, flashes of Wanda flood your thoughts. Pushing them deeper, you can almost feel her presence, as if she's right there with you, guiding your every move. In your mind, Wanda is on top of you, deep inside your pussy, praising you as a good girl. The image is so clear you start to feel twirls of pleasure forming in your stomach.

“That's right, honey, just like that” Wanda's voice is shaky, listening to you wholeheartedly follow her commands.You were so obedient, her precious girl. “Now, arch your back”

You do exactly as she says, the tip of your head falls back against your pillow and your ass digs itself into the mattress. Your pleasure immediately deepens and you start to move your fingers faster,

Wanda mirrors her instructions, pumping two fingers in and out of herself, letting out deep groans right into the phone. As she listens to you on the other end, pleasure-laden sounds and breathy moans fill the air. She can hear your pussy making the dirtiest sounds, loudly squelching everytime you jut your fingers in. She wishes she were there to witness it in person. Frustration builds as she hears the most beautiful sounds escaping your lips, and the fact that she can't do a single thing about it heightens the tension.

"I can hear you, how wet you are," she moans out, beginning to lose herself in the pleasure. "Is that all for me?

“Yes, all for you,” you breathlessly respond, your hips bucking up to match the rhythm of your fingers, desperately chasing your high. “you're making me feel so good”

The once-pristinely ironed sheets are now a tangled, wrinkled mess as Wanda's whole body squirms and writhes against the bed. She uses her thumb to rub at her clit, her mouth falling open at the sensation. Her eyes lock shut, entirely focused on creating vivid mental images of you that bring her closer and closer to the edge.

She felt her pussy tighten around her fingers, thinking about all the times she had made you cum, your adorable face scrunching up into an expression exclusively reserved for her played vividly in her mind. The memory of your eyebrows sewing together, your thighs wrapping around her, and your desperate attempts to cling to any part of her body for comfort lingered in her thoughts. On those particularly heated nights, she would work you up to a point where deep red lines would be etched into the skin of her back. stinging and aching so deliciously the next day.

When she tells you to go faster, you feel your orgasm rapidly build and the room starts to feel hazy. Thick with heat and the sounds of your and wanda's moans. You pump your fingers faster, and you can see them glistening with your juices everytime they pull out, just to be greedily plunged back in.

"Fuck, say my name,” she commanded, her final plea as she felt her self getting so close, needing to hear you scream her name while you both came on your fingers

You meet her request immediately, "Louder," she insists, and you obediently start repeating her name over and over again, getting whiner everytime. Your head was emptied of all thoughts other than Wanda as your fingers repeatedly hit that spot inside you.

“Wanda, oh god wanda”

Your voice started getting higher and louder. Wanda could tell you were about to cum, she started fucking herself harder wanting to be right there with you when you fell apart. She felt the phone start to fall out of her grip and just before she was about to fall over the edge she switched on the speaker button and let the phone fall out of her hand and next to the side of her head.

“Is my messy girl gonna cum? just from my voice.”

You parted your lips to respond but your mouth fell open wider when your orgasm suddenly ripped through you. Your eyes rolled into the back of your head as her name spilled off your lips in sharp moans and gasps. Your hips bucked up and down trying to prolong the sensation for as long as possible

Hearing all of this, Wanda fell into her orgasm with a matching intensity. Her thighs shook around her hand and she tossed her head to the side. One hand gripped the pillow to her face, muffling the loud moan of your name. Trying her best to keep quiet since the hotel walls were known for being thin.

Your breathing slowed, feeling your orgasm begin to subside, your back fell limp against the bed listening to wanda do the same.

“Well, that was certainly different” Wandas voice returned, although much deeper and huskier as she struggled to catch her breath, You could practically hear her smile as she relaxed into her post orgasmic bliss

“In a good or bad way” you questioned, sitting up on one elbow and throwing your frazzled hair over your shoulder.

“A good way, a very good way,” she assured, letting out a satisfied sigh. Her eyes grew heavy, and you could hear the rustling of the bed as she began pulling the comforters up past her shoulders, tucking herself in. She let out murmurs, whispering about how much she loved you and that she would be home soon.

You smiled knowing how tired she gets after sex, part of you dimming with the realization that you weren't there to hold her to sleep. Yet, you reassured yourself—she would be back home with you by the end of the week, just as she promised

Opting to stay on the call tonight, you recharged your phone and placed it on top of your pillow, close enough to hear Wanda's tired breathing, a comforting sound that soothed you to sleep. Just before you fell asleep, her voice broke the silence.

“Let's Facetime instead tomorrow”

#wanda maximoff #wanda maximoff x reader #fanfic #wanda maximoff x y/n #wanda maximoff smut #wanda x reader #elizabeth olsen

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etherealyoungk · 5 months

Text

baby it's cold outside - choi seungcheol

pairing: husband!seungcheol x reader

warnings: established relationship, kissing, fluff, terms of endearment

wordcount: 795

a/n: i miss cheol :( also idk this didn't turn out how i imagined but i hope it's okay, it's still cute ig :')

with winter setting it, it had gotten cold, so so cold. the temperatures had plummeted and the air was crisp and chilly, enough to make your hands turn to ice and make you shiver. but you loved the winter, it had a way of slowing down the world, bringing a sense of coziness you craved. the early morning fog had started to set it, making it even colder.

you try to snuggle inside the thick blankets to warm up, snuggling into seungcheol's chest even more. you sigh in contentment when his arms instinctively wrap themselves around your body, holding you close and you fall back asleep into a peaceful slumber.

you're stirred awake by soft fleeting kisses being placed on your cheek, stirring you out of your slumber as your eyes softly flutter open. you gaze up to see seungcheol smiling down at you, his adorable dimple peeking out.

"it's early", you mumble, before wrapping your arms around him and shifting into the blankets even more.

"i have to get ready love", he cooes and you don't respond, closing your eyes as your head lays on his chest. "it's cold", is all you say and you hear him chuckle.

"are you going to let me go to work or no?", he asks. "no", you respond. "no?", he repeats and you can hear the amusement in his voice.

"i'm gonna be late", he adds after a few seconds. "then be late", you grumble out, not willing to move, too stubborn and too comfortable in the warmth to even think about moving and letting him go.

you groan slightly after a few seconds, giving in as you tell him the classic "five more minutes", as you close your eyes. his hand rubs soft circles on your back, which was doing more harm them good really, lulling you back to sleep. and you do fall back asleep because when you wake up, the sunshine has lit up the room and seungcheol isn't next to you anymore. you furrow your brows as you look around, sitting up ever so slightly as you notice his blazer is still hung up on the hanger, indicating he hadn't left yet.

he appears in the room a few seconds later, his hands busy with securing his tie. his eyes light up when they meet yours and he smiles. "good morning love", he says softly.

"you left me to freeze", you tell dramatically as you sit up straighter, a pout evident on your face, which only makes seungcheol laugh lovingly at you. "someone's grumpy today", he adds as he walks over to you and leans down, planting a kiss to the top of your head. "i'll see you later", he adds and you nod.

seungcheol puts on his blazer and steps out of the room. you can hear the shuffle of his feet as he puts on his shoes and you get up, opening the wadrobe and taking his coat out. "cheol wait!", you call out as you grab his coat and walk out of the room, your mismatched socks serving as protection against the cold tile floor. you show him the coat.

"baby it's cold outside, don't want my husband to freeze to death now i do", you tell as you help him put on the coat, running your hands on his shoulders as you straighten the coat, resting your hands on his shoulders.

"have a good day", you tell, meeting his eyes. you quickly glance at the clock to the left and back at him. "aren't you late?", you prompt. "and who's fault is that?", he asks, making you tilt your head, giving him a glare. "my meeting got postponed", he fills in as he softly caresses your cheek with the back of his hand.

seungcheol is about to leave, you even hear the door open and you're in the kitchen making yourself a cup of tea when you hear him call out for you and you see him waiting by the doorway, an arm leaning against the wall for support as he stands tall in front of you.

"aren't you forgetting something love?", he prompts and you furrow your brows. did you forget something?

"forget what?", you ask and he pouts his lips, making a kissy face. you shake your head at his silliness and walk forward till you're in front of him. you lean in, placing a soft kiss on his lips. you pull away but he leans forward, capturing your lips again, pulling you closer as he cups your cheek gently, kissing you sweetly.

"you're so silly", you mumble against his lips and he grins. "only for you", he says without missing a beat, the soft indentation of his dimple showing, making you smile as you kiss him again.

taglist: @daisycheols @naaaaafla @slytherinshua @weird-bookworm @idubiluv @qaramu @n4mj00nvq @joshuaahong @strawberri-uyu @itsveronicaxxx @fallingforshua29 @frankenstein852 @lvlystars @mirxzii

#i will never not mention his dimple bc i love him #guys im down so bad for people with dimples like you don't understand #k labels #caratlibrary #skye's writing #seventeen imagines #seventeen fluff #seventeen scenarios #seventeen drabbles #seventeen x reader #svt fluff #svt scenarios #svt imagines #svt x reader #seungcheol fluff #seungcheol imagines #scoups fluff #scoups imagines #scoups x reader

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talaok · 1 year

Text

A small bed

Pairing: Xavier Thorpe x Fem!reader Summary: During a cold night at Nevermore, you seek shelter in your friend's, Xavier, room, but as it turns out, sleeping on a single bed in two, is not as easy as it sounds. Warnings: SMUT (protected sex and oral sex- female receiving-) a/n: Let's play a game. Guess who's depressed and has done nothing other than "write" and watch Wednesday for the past few days? Please find the answer in the following text.

It was so cold in the room. Those stupid wooden thin walls never actually isolated the building from the cold. Funny how the headmaster seemed to have money to donate to the Mayor's campaign but none to invest in the infrastructure she herself was managing. The bedroom was way too large and the ceiling way too high for the mere thermostat to be enough to fight the cruel Jericho's cold. You could hear Edvin's low snoring coming from the opposite side of the room. You wondered how she did it, how she could fall asleep with this temperature. Maybe it had something to do with her nature, and if that was it, you wished for a moment to have been born a werewolf too. Able at least to close your eyes without the fear you'll freeze to death in your sleep keep you from doing so. you sighed. there was no way you were gonna do it. The alarm on the nightstand indicated the time. 3:46, plastered in red lightning, the only thing illuminating the room besides the sheer light coming from outside, the moon still emanating her immortal glow through the branches. The howling of the wind seemed almost sinister, as it infiltrated from the window. You gripped the blanket and wrapped it around yourself, sitting up on the bed. There had to be something you could do right? You intently thought about it, as the cold spread itself all over your body. They were no more blankets, so that was a no. there was hot tea in the kitchen, but that meant stepping outside, where the cause of your suffering had originated, not to mention you were still going to have to come back to this infernal room after, so that was another no. the gears in your brain were desperately operating, trying hard to find a solution, but it seemed the temperature had compromised also them, not just your body, which was now trembling, as the only one they could find was the first one you had thought of, but had deliberately discarded. It's not like it was a bad idea, he would have said yes, you knew. there was just something about it that didn't convince you, a feeling or, better even, a presentiment, that made you doubtful on whether it was a good idea either. But you didn't have time to think about it as you slipped through the door, glancing one last time, at that shadow-filled space.

The sound resonated through the whole corridor as your knuckles met the door's hardwood. Silence filled it just moments after. It's not like you were expecting a prompt reply, or one at all for that matter. Light footsteps echoed in your ears just before the doorknob turned. "Y/n?" Xavier whispered, his voice still hoarse and full of sleep. "I know, I'm sorry. can I come in?" He frowned, visibly confused "Uhh, sure" "Thanks" you immediately sneaked in. He closed the door and leaned on it, still incredibly perplexed. "Did-did something happen?" "No, nothing like that" You smiled "I just-" you bit your lip nervously as you looked up at him "I can't sleep in my room. It's too cold." "Oh" he exhaled relieved, calming you with him. "I didn't know where else to go. I'm sorry. I can go if you want" you said, realizing just now how crazy you must look. Showing up to his room at 4 in the morning trembling and without shoes on. "shit you're freezing" he noticed, immediately taking his bed's blanket and walking up to you. He was silent as he gently wrapped it around you, his hands remaining on your arms once you had gripped it. "Thanks" "don't worry." he shook his head. A sincere expression spread over his face, and you let yourself stare at it, loving the way he was doing the same. "so, can I stay here?" you asked again "Of course" he said, looking offended by the fact you even had to ask. He glanced at his bed, an eyebrow-raising itself "There's only one thing" he offered you an apologetic smile "There's only one bed. Rowan's old one doesn't have any blankets". You looked around. He was right. Only the single bed surrounded by drawing-filled walls seemed to be suitable to sleep in. Especially today. You laughed softly. It wasn't funny, well maybe just a bit, but most of all it was ironic. you had come here for shelter and the only one you had found was a very thin mattress you now had to share with someone else. You wouldn't have accepted if it wasn't for the fact that there was no other option. You definitely weren't going back to the hellhole you had just escaped from. "I think we can fit" "you sure?" "Well, we at least have to try" you said "If I go back to my room there's a 90 % chance that I'll die of hypothermia" "and we wouldn't want that" he chuckled, his thumbs stroking your arms through the cover. "no" you smiled "we definitely wouldn't". You liked looking at him, the moon illuminating only the left side of him, lightening his long amber hair to champagne ones. "all right then" he let his arms fall to his sides before indicating the way "Ladies first" "Why thank you, kind sir" you grinned as you went to the bed, laying down on it. It smelled of him. His scent was soaked in the sheets and in the pillow and you immersed yourself in it as you closed your eyes. You liked it. More than you should have, probably. "comfortable?" he asked, and you nodded sleepily as your eyes stayed shut. He laughed softly at how cute you looked, peacefully sleeping in his bed, and a weird feeling invaded his chest. He didn't pay attention to it as he walked towards you. You felt the bed creek and move as he climbed on it, laying just beside you. You hadn't really understood how small the bed was when you had looked at it before, but as you laid here, your two bodies glued together, you realized just how wrong your estimate had been. Silence filled the room again as he set the cover on you both. You were still shuddering, it seemed like the cold had made its way into you and had now little to no intention of ever leaving you. "You're still cold" he whispered, his hand finding your arm again, just to caress it kindly. His touch felt like fire on your frozen skin. You opened your eyes, finding his already on yours. You swallowed nervously at how close you were, a few inches was all that separated you. If you hadn't been best of friends this would have looked romantic, you thought. But you were, so there was nothing to think about. "mh-mh" you nodded. "can I-" he murmured as he turned to lay on his side "I can hug you" he bit his lip "if that's ok" "Y-yeah sure. I'd like that" you said shyly and he smiled "ok" He scooted closer to you and you turned to your side, just like he had, facing the wall. You admired the extremely detailed spider on the drawing in front of you as he put one of his arms around you, tightly holding onto your chest, pushing you against his, and the other under your head. His body was flat against yours, from head to toe following your body's position. You could feel every inch of his body, his hair brushing against your neck where his breath was giving you goosebumps, his chest moving up and down against your back, and his knees on the back of your legs. He was warm, and as much as you were grateful for the cold beginning to leave your body, you weren't thinking about it anymore. What you were thinking about, was his hand on your stomach, and your ass-well- your ass dangerously close to his crotch. You gulped, if you had been on the verge of falling asleep before, you doubted you were ever gonna do it now. You kept staring at the drawing as you let yourself melt into his touch, so gentle and yet so reassuring. It felt nice. More than nice actually. Your neck was starting to hurt and you readjusted yourself to get more comfortable, inadvertently moving closer to him, and well, grinding against his lap. A small groan, clearly not intended for you to be heard, left his throat. "sorry" you whispered, faintly "don't worry" his hoarse voice traveled to your ears, as he tightened his hug. Shit. There was a weight on your chest and a familiar feeling in your belly, and you preyed that you would have fallen asleep soon, zeroing out all the possible mistakes that you were afraid you couldn't stop yourself from making, and that right now were all you wanted to do. All the thoughts passing from your head were things you knew you would have regretted later, like what would have happened if you ground again against his crotch, or if you turned and leaned just a few inches over, meeting his lips with yours. They were all potential, doable possibilities, that you could have explored in a matter of seconds, but you couldn't, you shouldn't. You were just tired, that was it. Xavier was your friend, and friends don't kiss each other, even if they really really want to. "Y/n?" a soft whisper in your ear. "Hm" you hummed "are you sleeping?" You turned your neck around, now really inches from his face, from his nose, eyes, and stupidly pretty mouth. "no" you answered There was a moment of silence, as he inspected your whole face, his eyes traveling from your eyes to your mouth and then up again. You felt butterflies in your stomach. You had never understood that expression, but now, all of the sudden, it seemed to make a lot of sense. "are you feeling better?" "yes, thank you" He moved his hand from your belly and brought it up to your face "good" he murmured, as he stroked your cheek. You felt your cheeks turn a brighter shade of pink. "I-" your voice died in your throat, as you forgot what you wanted to say. "You're very pretty you know?" he kept caressing your face "I don't think I've ever told you before" he smiled "but you really are" shit. He was making it really hard not to want to explore the possibilities. "I- thank you" you murmured. He looked at you, seriously now, penetrating and studying you, like he was really seeing you for the first time. "Y/n" he murmured, his eyes blinking slowly. "Xavier" you whispered too, before he slowly leaned over, indecisively getting closer and closer to your lips. you looked at him as he reached them, pressing his mouth on yours, in a chaste kiss. you barely reciprocated, still shocked this was actually happening. He leaned away, his eyes moving between your mouth and your eyes, desperately trying to understand what you were thinking, while also desperately wanting to kiss you again, this time, like he really wanted to. You looked at him, his beautiful eyes always so confident, now looked so hesitant. It was a weird image, a new one. You smiled subtly as you leaned over and pressed your lips with his, this time better, harder and more passionately as his hand on your cheek traveled to your hair. He stroked your hair as he kissed you lovingly, his warm mouth on yours, as you both closed your eyes. It felt like floating, like flying on cotton candy clouds. You had never felt something like this. he smiled as he leaned away, and you couldn't help but do the same. "you're a good kisser" he murmured" better than I expected actually" you gasped, pretending to be mad " you expected me to be bad? " you asked, realizing just at that moment something "and what do you mean by expected?" "well" he moved a lock of your hair behind your ear "let's just say there have been times when I wondered about this" "have there?" you grinned "yes" he kissed you again quickly "there have been" " Good to know" you bit your lip "and by the way, you're a good kisser too" "Oh I know" he chuckled, retracting his hand from under your head to place it on your shoulder, his fingers trailing on it. "I'm good at a lot of things" he looked at you. A fire burned in his eyes. Your mouth opened slightly in surprise, and he kissed it uncaringly. His tongue infiltrated your lips as he forced your head together with his hand. You could taste him in your mouth, Xavier, all of him. from his toothpaste to the tip of the pencil he bit constantly. It was all there. "And do you want to show me those things you're so good at?" you said, surprising even yourself "pleeeease" he begged, desperation clear in his voice as he gripped your head one more time, kissing you hard and messily as he pushed you to lay down on the bed. He didn't waste any time as he got on top of you, peppering kisses all over your face, while his hands explored every inch of your body, leaving a trail of shivers with his touch. You whimpered as one of his hands found your breasts "We can stop if you want" "no. please no" He smiled "thank god" he lifted your shirt and sweater "I was just getting to the good part," he said, as he lifted it over your head with your help and shamelessly stared at your bare tits " fuck you're hot" he said bending down to spread kisses all over them while groping and caressing them hungrily. "so" he started kissing down your belly "fucking" he trailed down under the covers "hot" he said, kissing your fully clothed pubis. You moaned softly at the hint of a touch he just gave you. You were desperate "please" as I said, desperate "patience my dear" he whispered sarcastically, as he hooked the hem of your pants under his fingers, toying with it. You whined softly "a virtue you clearly don't possess" he chuckled under his breath as he slowly took your pants off, finally freeing you. he bent down immediately between your thighs, looking up at you smugly. You met his gaze and bit your lip. This was crazy. You were friends and had been such for so long, and apparently, all it took was a very cold night and a much too small bed to make you forget about it, and for him to end up between your legs. Fuck, he looked pretty that way. He brought you back to reality as he bent down and kissed your clit, still looking at you. You moaned softly, and then he did it again, this time for longer, and your moan became louder and kept doing so until he was sucking your clit and you were screaming his name, your hands gripping his hair and the sheets mindlessly. Lost in the pleasure he was provoking you He was looking at you mesmerized as you threw your neck back, your eyes shutting close and your mouth open, those filthy sounds coming out of it. Xavier thought he had never heard something so beautiful in his life. "you taste so good y/n" he said, his words vibrating against your cunt, as his fingers came up to your pussy, slowly moving towards the entrance. You cried out as they entered you, Xavier pumping them in and out relentlessly. A very dirty sound echoed through the room as he kept doing that, not even your voice able to cover it, as he went back to sucking and licking all he could find. "xavier" you mumbled "s-shit" you tried to speak, but the pressure forming in your belly distracted you "I-I'm coming" you finally spat out, and he smiled against your cunt "then cum y/n, come all over me" he stopped just to resume again, even harsher than before. You felt a knot in your stomach and as he scissored his fingers inside of you again, hitting your g-spot perfectly, it broke down. Making you come undone, loudly moaning his name as you came down from your high. "shit" you sighed incredulously, as he came back up to your face, pressing his lips with yours once again, letting you taste yourself in his mouth. "you weren't joking when you said you were good" you giggled, and he smirked "I'm a man of my word" his hand found your side again "now" he looked at you "let me show you my full potential" he said, making you laugh giddily, exited for what was about to come. His hands left you momentarily as he took off his shirt and just moments after, his pants. You had never seen anyone undress that quickly. He leaned over you to reach into one of his nightstand's drawers, his hand reappearing with a tinfoil package between his fingers, the same ones that were inside of you moments before. You squeezed your thighs shut, just at the thought He looked down at your legs and smiled knowingly, as he slid the condom on his cock. You weren't nervous. It was weird, usually, you were always nervous at moment like this but you felt safe, and more than a bit turned on. "you're gonna have to open your legs y/n" he raised an eyebrow, and you tilted your head to the side, biting down a smile "and what if I don't?" he bent down over you "then I'm gonna have to open them for you" he ghosted your lips. you swallowed thickly. Fucking shitty shit. Hot. That was hot. You spread your legs and he smirked smugly " so obedient" he joked and you rolled your eyes. "look at me" he commanded as he positioned himself at your entrance "I want you to look at me when I'm inside you" Your mouth slaked open but you still nodded "use your words" "ok" you answered finally, and he looked at you proudly before slowly pushing himself into you. A series of stroked and interrupted moans escaped your mouth as he bottomed out, filling you up completely. You were doing as he requested, looking at him intently as your face contorted in all sorts of expressions. "you're perfect" he sighed faintly, as he placed his hand on your stomach, stroking it gently " so fucking perfect" he looked at you, making your heart miss a beat. his lips twitched up into a very thin smirk as he started moving in and out of you slowly, his veiny cock wrapped tightly around your walls. "feel so good " he groaned as he quickened his pace. One of your hands flew to his shoulder as you gripped it to bring him down to you. You wanted to feel him, all of him. And you did, as you hooked your arm beside his neck and reached up to kiss him desperately, leaving pointless little whines in his mouth as he kept thrusting into you. "shit Xavier" you cried out as he brought one of his hands down to circle your already overstimulated clit. "I know," he said without an ounce of real sorriness "just take it " he pecked your lips again "It'll be worth it" You were out of breath as you kept bouncing on his bed, your tits moving with you. his movements were fast and you were feeling so many things at once that you weren't sure you knew exactly where you were at the moment. The same knot from before was starting to form itself again. "you're coming" he said, through his panting, anticipating you. Some of his hair were stuck to his forehead, and his mouth was open, gasping for air in between his sporadical groans of pleasure. "mh-mh" you nodded desperately, your hips moving with his to get even more friction. "come baby" he murmured, the pet name echoing through your ears, and traveling straight down to your cunt "come for me" "oh god xavier" you had the time to murmur before a wave of pleasure overwhelmed you, a series of little fireworks exploding inside you as he kept moving, chasing his own orgasm while letting you ride yours out. "fuck" he growled as his thrusts got more sloppy "you feel- so f-fucking good" he groaned, before with one final push, he came, a series of profanities leaving his mouth before he collapsed on top of you, his head resting on your shoulder. You smiled as you realized what had just happened, and when he raised his head, you could see he was doing the same. "I think the bed was too small" you grinned "What makes you say that?" he laughed

#xavier thorpe #xavier thorpe smut #xavier thorpe fancfiction #xavier thorpe x reader #xavier thorpe x y/n #xavier thorpe fic #xavier thorpe wednesday #wednesday #smut #fluff #friends to lovers #xavier smut #xavier

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ssahotchnerr · 2 days

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i rlly wanna see how aaron would react to reader accidentally starting her period and leaking on his white sheets. i just know he would be so caring and conforming !!

stains

he soooo would cw; fem!reader, period talk, blood mentions, language, fluff <33

Even on the weekends, Aaron doesn't tend to stray from routine.

Apart from setting an alarm - he presses a kiss to the first patch of your skin he can find, rolls out of bed, and then opens the blinds so the morning light can naturally assist in waking you. Trailing into the en-suite bathroom, he hears you let out a gentle squeak, stretching from your laid position in bed.

He preps his toothbrush, blinking once, twice, in attempt to rid the heavy sleep from his eyes. Brushing his teeth is number one on his morning agenda; not only because it was the hygienic thing to do, he simply could not stand having horrid breath.

Despite the brushing sounds echoing in his head, he doesn't miss your low,

"Shit."

"Honey?" His attempt to speak was muffled, as his toothbrush was in his mouth. He tilted back from the sink, just enough to allow him to peer into the room, to see you.

You were sat upright, a handful of sheets in hand, meeting his eyes guilt-stricken. "I'm sorry. It wasn't due for another three days and you know I'm typically always on schedule and always prepared-"

"Hm?" Freeing his mouth from the toothpaste, quickly flicking the water on/off to rid the residue and wiping his mouth with a washcloth, he re-entered his room.

As he came closer, your flushed cheeks were vividly noticeable, the remorse in your eyes even more intense. You clarified, "My period."

"Oh," his expression softened, before alternating to deep concern. "Are you alright?"

"Am I alright? Aaron your bed-"

"What about it?"

"It's stained - the sheets. Fuck," you scrambled up, not wanting to ruin them further, wincing in pain as you did so. You quickly padded past him to the bathroom, the plush carpet soft under your bare feet. He followed behind.

"And? Sweetheart if you think I care about that," he chuckled, sweetly shaking his head. "Do you have...?"

"In my bag."

Feminine products - Aaron redirected himself, finding your overnight duffle tossed hastily near the foot of his dresser. As he rummaged through it, he mentally cursed himself for not already having a supply waiting under his sink, and mentally added such to his future shopping list.

He grabbed the other necessities - an extra pair of underwear, t-shirt, opting to grab your favorite pair of shorts from his drawer. One he hadn't worn in quite a while as you had claimed sole ownership.

You sheepishly accepted the items from him, refraining from lifting your gaze. "Thank you."

"Hey," With a finger he lifted your chin, causing you to meet his soft, brown eyes. "It's okay."

You shook your head in shame, prompting his hand to fall.

"It's your body. It's natural. It's- this is not an inconvenience to me, it is for you. Plus, this is exactly what they invented stain remover for."

Despite yourself you laughed, wrapping your arms around your middle. "I suppose."

The ends of Aaron's lips itched upwards, successful in his goal to crack a smile. Although, his amusement sobered back to concern, "You never answered my question from before. Are you alright?"

You grimaced. "Crampy."

"Advil then?" Aaron asked and you nodded. He placed his hand on your lower abdomen soothingly, the warmth of it calming your tensed muscle. That was the thing about his touch, it never failed to relieve any aches or discomfort, physical and emotional. "And a bath? I recall you saying that helps, with easing the pain."

"Please."

He quickly obtained the pain reliever, started the bath. "Don't worry about the sheets, I'll strip and get 'em in the wash. Hand me your clothes too." He ran his hand under the stream of water, regulating the temperature as you immediately began to protest, claiming, 'it was your mess, your doing,' but Aaron kindly shut you down, "Nope. Let me handle it, I insist."

"And if the stain doesn't come out?"

"I've been meaning to dispose of them anyway. They're getting old, they've fulfilled their job well." After flashing you a sympathetic smile Aaron stood, his age vaguely showing when his knees cracked as his legs straightened. He placed a kiss on your forehead, hoping to dissolve your current, growing pout. "Just relax."

You willingly met his eyes this time. You tousled his hair, still disheveled from sleep, paying extra attention to the short hairs behind his ears. Your nails scratched at his scalp, expressing your gratitude silently.

"And if it makes you feel any better, this isn't the first time I've had to soak blood from linens."

"It doesn't," you rolled your eyes at his injury-prone occupation, but he did however manage to pull yet another smile from you. A gentle laugh came from deep within his chest at your response. "But thank you."

#aaron hotchner x reader #aaron hotchner #aaron hotchner fluff #aaron hotchner x you #aaron hotchner x fem!reader #aaron hotch x reader #aaron hotchner imagine #criminal minds #criminal minds x reader #criminal minds x you #criminal minds drabble #aaron hotchner drabble #criminal minds imagine #criminal minds fanfiction #hotch imagine #criminal minds x fem!reader

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riki-dazed · 20 days

Text

Best friends can kiss, right? -- PART 2

go to part 1 · fluff, kissing · wc: 1205

Your eyes search Riki's for any hint of jest or sincerity, a knot forms within your stomach as you try to make sense of the sudden shift in atmosphere.

Did I hear that correctly?

He must be joking. Right?

The question continues to hang in the air as you stay cuddled into his side, mere inches away from his face. The warmth in which you felt radiate off his hoodie moments prior has now doubled in temperature.

You wait patiently for Riki to crack a smile, expecting him to mention that he's joking around, as his unserious self always does. But instead, your heart nearly leaps out of your chest as you watch his seated figure begin to lean closer into you, your eyes instinctively close shut as you brace yourself for whatever is about to unfold.

It's finally happening..

Your mouth emits a barely audible gasp as Riki's pillowy lips come into contact with your forehead, his hand finding its way to the back of your head, gently keeping you in place for him. His lips linger on you for what feels like an eternity, the warmth of his breath against your skin causes a sense of calmness to flush over your stiff body. Nerves in which had settled upon you moments prior were nowhere to be found anymore.

You open your eyes to find him pulling away from your face, and you can't help but almost feel a tinge of disappointment; a sense of longing for his lips to be moving against other places, and not just your forehead.

Your cheeks flush at the racing thoughts within your mind as one of your hands finds its way up his torso, clinging onto the fabric of his hoodie that covers his chest. Your touch leaves Riki slightly surprised, prompting him to conceal his emotions behind a composed facade.

You pout, your gaze set on his, "Nishimura Riki, is that all you've got..?"

Just tell me how we can make this work

Your best friend returns a small smile, the both of you listening to the quiet melody in the background fade into a comfortable silence. Riki's heart rate picks up with every passing second as you continue to search his eyes, he wonders if you can tell just how much your puppy-eyed gaze is taking an effect upon him.

"Y/n," He reluctantly begins, his voice even more hushed now that there's nothing playing through his speakers. His tall body shifts to find a comfier position on the small sofa, his hand simultaneously pulls you back into his side, "...I don't want to rush you."

You furrow your eyebrows at the sweet boy, giving him a look that screams playful annoyance. A shy smile creeps onto your lips also, your heart warming at how considerate he always is with you.

"I've waited for this since the day we first met, Riki,"

His gaze burns into yours as he tries to process the words he's just heard you say. A part of him knew this, though, he's always loved you too much to put your friendship at risk. In this moment, and with the help of your confession, Riki realizes that some people are just worth taking these sort of risks for.

His eyes shy away, "Me too,"

Riki's calm reply leaves you feeling each and every butterfly within your body flutter its wings, without restraint. Finding a sudden boost of confidence within yourself, you take the opportunity to shift your position. Both of your hands are now situated atop Riki's chest as your knees rest on either side of his hips, the pace of his breathing quickening beneath your touch is dangerously noticeable to you.

This is so unlike him

The realization that you're straddling him feels surreal to Riki, like a scenario he could have only ever dreamed of actually happening. He's looking up at you with an expression akin to a lost puppy, his arms resting on either side of him. He's uncertain of what to do with his hands.

"Then don't make me wait any longer," Your voice is laced with anticipation and longing, your gaze falling to his mouth in which hangs slightly open.

And just like that, the look in Riki's eyes changes entirely, like your words had just flipped a switch within him; you realize that you've just added fuel to a long running fire.

Riki doesn't dare to make you wait another second longer. He lifts his back off the sofa, closing the distance between your bodies. The boundaries set between your friendship begin to blur as Riki's lips finally start to move against yours fervently, causing you to melt against him into a tender reciprocation. You'd be lying if you were to say that you've never kissed him in your past daydreams, though, you never expected it to be this good in real life.

The silent world around you fades into insignificance as you tug at Riki's hoodie, his hands finally settling on the small of your back, pulling you even closer to him; as if he's afraid to let you go.

The kiss you share with him is needy, both of you hungry to taste one another for the first time. Sounds of want and desperation wash throughout the small studio, creating an intimate symphony in which completely envelopes the both of you. Your mind is completely blank, the only thing being present within it being the thought of how good Riki's lips feel against yours currently. The biting, the sucking.. You start to wonder where he learnt to kiss like this.

Your hands trail up Riki's chest, they rest on his shoulders as you gently push his back against the plush sofa. The both of you take a moment to catch your breaths when your lips detach from one another's, your chests rising and falling in synchrony. You struggle to make sense of what has just happened.

"Is that all you've got?" The almost panting boy mockingly teases, refering to your previous question from minutes ago.

A menacing smile washes over his face as he pulls his bottom lip between his teeth, his hands settling on your hips. You scoff in reply, leaning back into him to leave one final, wet kiss against his now slightly swollen, and pink lips.

He tastes so good.

"Mm, this is nice. I like this," Riki sighs contently as his long arms wrap around you, squishing your figure against his. A chuckle escapes you as you proceed to lay your head against his chest. "We should do this more often."

"So, is this where I ask what are we..?" You tease with a smile as you gaze up into his face.

Riki's eyes shut as he chuckles away, hugging you tighter in the process. The feeling of his chest moving against your body with his laughter causes your eyes to ever so slightly tear up, out of pure love, and adoration. His happiness radiates a different kind of warmth throughout your body.

This is where I belong.

Three AM soon turns into the early hours of the morning as you continue to sleep peacefully, your limbs intertwined, the both of you embracing one another closely on the cramped studio sofa.

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