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kneelingshadowsalome · 11 months

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Just Friends (König x F!Reader)

How to Tell Her You Love Her 3/4 (Word count 4.5 k)

Summary: König is a horny, creepy killing machine obsessed with a shy, kind reader who has a raging knife kink.

Tags/warnings: 🔞 Eventual smut, eventual violence, angst, dark romance, canon divergence. Crack treated seriously. Yandere undertones, implied stalking, panty stealing, major character death, size kink, voyeurism, possessive sex, twisted, fluffy feelings. Loner boy/gentle girl dynamic. Protective!Obsessive!Top!König. Reader works as a cleaner at the base. She is described to have hair and prefers to wear dresses off work. Not safe or sane but mostly consensual.

A/N: Finally I can share the rest of this crazy story with you guys! Chapter 4/4 will be posted right after this one. Also if you haven't yet seen @shizukaay0 's amazing fanart for this fic, go take a look, it's steamy!

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

She wakes up next morning only to find König gone.

The restless night nearly makes her sleep in, and when she notices that the man has left while she was still sleeping, something twists like a blade inside her stomach. She throws the covers off, scours the room with her stare, and notices a note and a small sunflower on the bedside table.

He has left his knife – or one of them – here too. Another gift.

The steel is dark, nearly black; the handle olive green, with sturdy finger grooves and a heavy guard to protect the fingers. The saw-toothed portion on the back of the blade gives the knife a look that most people would probably deem ugly. The blade is wide and ends in a vicious, fat tip that looks sharp enough to puncture flesh without having to apply much pressure.

She doesn't know what a Glock knife looks like, but this is exactly how she sees König: petrifying, big, and brutal. In her eyes, beautiful… Stunning.

The knife juts from the table and holds a note in place although there is no risk of wind to take it off.

Flower for my Engel

I'll see you tonight

The clumsy, hurried message immediately makes her smile. The disturbing thoughts from last evening are only an odd memory – his offerings make her insides glow with warm milk and honey, she feels silly, like summer – and the promise to come to her every night doesn't feel like a threat anymore, it feels… magical, a secret romantic meeting, something wild, something she has always avoided from fear of trying new things.

The floral dress on the floor doesn't appear as evidence of her ruining anymore. It's fairytale-like: that he leaves flowers and knives wherever he goes. The destroyed bra makes her almost giggle. When has a man ever done something like that to her in the heat of passion?

The night feels like another odd dream: König had barely fit to sleep in her bed, and she had barely fit to curl around him. He had slept like a baby, motionless and peaceful, while she woke up every few hours to admire him: to watch the slow pulse between his collarbones barely revealed by the hood and listen to the faint snore that stopped for the smallest moment when she brushed her fingertips over his stomach.

Her muscles ache from lying half on top of him all night. Changing position was out of the question because he held an arm of steel around her all night. Luckily, it prevented her from falling from the bed. But now her muscles were coated with pains of not getting enough sleep while being held in place by a giant for almost 9 hours. Not to talk of the fresh aches born from their activities before getting those precious few winks of sleep…

She goes to work that day with such an everlasting beam that people notice her. She's not entirely sure what has happened, but she is suddenly wildly alive, and blooming.

No one knows about her secret man, her secret, sturdy weapon. No one knows she is the one he comes to every night: the shy, invisible cleaner who has seduced the man whom everyone fears.

And they can keep their boring normalcy and dull decency. She has found something infinitely better.

He's her most precious secret from now on.

He comes to visit her in the break room in the middle of the day, and she's slightly surprised. She thought they would see each other only at night from now on.

She greets him with a smile, and he answers her delight with an amused twinkle in his eyes. He looks far more normal now that the tension is gone. It's suddenly easy to be in his company because they share a secret nobody else knows about.

"Hi… What are you doing here?"

Her shy smiles and the soft whisper should tell him that she doesn't object at all to this sort of intrusion. She might be a little obsessed now too.

"I had to see you," he says as if she's his priority from now on, and her heart feels lighter and lighter. He's equally as lovestruck as she, then.

"You look so beautiful."

She's walking in a dream again: this man calls her beautiful even when she's hidden in her cleaner uniform, stripped from her dresses and flowers and makeup. The only thing she has is her smile, really, but he's not any less adoring. She's being worshiped during her sleepy coffee break, in broad daylight, when she's dressed in dull, grimy working clothes… Who would've thought?

“Thank you,” she gives him another smile, and he moves to her; so close that she has to crane her neck to look up at him.

The kiss that follows is stolen but thoroughly consensual. She disappears inside his hood and smiles on his lips, which are far gentler now. It's a chaste little kiss that happens in darkness and in secret, like everything else between them.

"Will you come to me tonight…?" She asks as if the note wasn't promise enough that he would. He's far too decent, not even groping her this time, and it drives her crazy.

"Nothing could keep me from you," he answers straight into her mouth. His musk and the soap he uses – something breezy and pungent, tea tree, perhaps – surround her much like the hood.

"You can be on top this time. I want to see how you take it–"

"Shh…" She smiles, almost laughs at his libertine whispers. He's smiling, too.

"Don't worry. I'll do the heavy lifting if you're tired."

He retreats, the hood is taken away and her sight is filled with light and decency, but then his hands go around her waist and lift her from the ground. It's like she's flying, floating through the air before he sets her gently on the coffee table.

"Except that you're not heavy at all," he says, voice dark and thick from arousal. He moves to her neck, the hood-coated face roams up and down her throat as he moves to whisper more suggestions in her ear.

"Or you can take it in your mouth… Have you ever had a man in your mouth?"

Something tells her that if she were to say yes, it would deeply upset him. The hair on the back of her neck starts to tingle, and when she doesn't answer him, he continues.

"I could eat you at the same time. Would you like that?"

His voice is darker still, and it makes her bite her lip and grab his arm for support. Even the idea of a 69 with him is dizzying. She can barely breathe from the joy and wanting.

How is she supposed to continue her day when he pops up out of nowhere and talks such sweet filth in her ear?

"König…"

"And after that… We'll fuck until your legs shake."

"Stop," she laughs a hushed giggle in the fabric of his hood. "This is inappropriate…"

"Oh ja. I'm hard again."

Mmh.

"All your fault, Engel."

"You are incurable," she laughs.

"That's what they say."

Perhaps it's a joke, but the word they makes her briefly wonder if he has had this kind of affairs with other women, too. Perhaps she's not so special after all. The image of him fucking other women with abandon breeds a stale, bitter putrefaction in her stomach.

Has he called them angels too…?

Her hands are about his neck, but she has no memory of throwing them there. She wishes she could just dangle from him the rest of the day until he carries her to bed and does all the things he just promised he would do. Let her do all those things to him while he gets to watch – watch how well she can take him, ride him, suck him.

She makes a silent promise to herself and to him that she will be the special girl, no matter the cost.

"Do you want coffee? I just made some," she asks in hopes that he would stay for a little while longer even if he isn't supposed to be here in the social spaces of the maintenance personnel.

"Sure. I would love that."

The man wants his coffee dark, and it only makes her smile as she pours him that minimalistic, unsweetened beverage. She likes his knives dark, his hood dark, his shirts dark… Perhaps she should start wearing black dresses.

"You left your knife in my room."

"For you," he tilts his head a little, wanting to know if she likes his gift. Has he given knives to other women, too, after he's fucked them…?

"Thank you. It's incredible."

"Good combat knife," he nods. "Doesn't reflect light."

If someone was here with them right now, they would probably roll their eyes at how deranged this conversation is. What rotten lunatics they both were.

She’s completely flushed, and smiling like an idiot from receiving a fat, vile knife as a present after having been fucked into oblivion twice last night.

"Well, it reminds me of you."

He looks at her, searching for deceit or ridicule, but there is none.

"That's how you see me..?"

"Mm-hm," she hums with sudden lightness. "Incredible."

His eyes betray the same look he had when he came inside her last night: brief, fragile, naked hope. Her next smile is sadder because obviously, this guy didn't receive compliments often. She's watering a dry desert plant with a single, simple word, and his eyes light up like he's just received years and years worth of good care.

He steps forward and looks like he is finally about to sit at the table. The obsessed look has melted into pure adoration: it's even more knee-buckling than the possessive stare that has followed her for weeks.

One of the maintenance officers arrives to get a cup of coffee in a hurry; a man whose name she doesn't even care to remember, whose world seems to consist mainly of stress. He’s a typical, middle-aged, burned-out man who doesn't appear to remember how to cherish the little things – such as a good cup of coffee – but rushes by everyone and everything and blames them for his stress. She always feels pity for both people and inanimate objects that get to suffer from this man’s exhaustion.

But she doesn't even see him now: all she sees is the fierce operator who is not supposed to be here. The giant who looks at her equally as mesmerized, like everyone else has ceased to exist in this world.

The air is teeming with naked lust and barely contained, sweet hunger, but the poor officer is blind to all of that. A sudden warmth gushes on her chest as the man bumps into her while rushing by with his overfilled coffee mug. She might as well be invisible again, and the hot liquid burns, but it has no power to make her angry or sad.

“Oh–excuse me,” she chirps with a dreamy smile on her face when it’s all his fault that she has coffee all over her shirt.

Before the man gets to the door, König grabs him by the collar and hurls him against the wall. She doesn’t even catch the knife before it plunges inside a round stomach like the worker is merely a balloon to be punctured.

The blade comes away all red, then disappears into the flesh again, and again and again… She loses count after six; the knife sails inside the same hole like he’s fucking the man with the blade. The slick sounds remind her of their intense love-making last night, they taint the passion in the most twisted way.

More hot coffee ends up splashing on her thighs before the sound of a mug smashing into tiny little pieces on the floor tells her that all innocence is lost.

Her gaze is glued to the black and red mush that used to be a polo shirt and a stomach: the man stays upright only because he is not allowed to collapse to the ground. But after a few seconds that seem to last hours, he is shoved to the floor in a sad heap.

She’s still staring at the now dead man when König takes a small step toward her. It occurs to her that both her palms are over her mouth only after she raises her eyes to his, and sees that he had expected some other reaction than this.

Her hands won’t descend; they try to keep all her horror inside, try to reassure her that this is only a dream, she hasn’t woken up yet, and the relief will be immense once she does.

But that never happens.

It’s real, and she would give anything to go only a few minutes back in time where the man was still alive and König was not everything she always feared he was.

He is looking at her with bewildered confusion, then the corner of his eye twitches, just once. He forces the blade back into its sheath without wiping the blood off: a telltale sign that he is more than thrown off balance.

Her horror and disgust escort him out the door in a tornado-like state, and she is left alone with two spilled coffees and a bleeding corpse, wondering who will clean the mess because she cannot for her life do it.

. . . . . .

The shock leaves her body cold and weak as she sits on a bench in the hallway, too distracted to carry on with her day, too afraid to go into her lonely room. It feels safer to remain in a public space, even if people who pass her by look at her with pity and confusion.

She cried her eyes and heart out after the shaking receded. She understands now why shock is such a dangerous state to be in. She always thought it a lie that people could die from shock, but not anymore.

Other people cleaned the mess, after the investigation. How she was able to stay so calm and collected during the questioning is a miracle on its own. What came after was an empty, bleak abyss.

She’s still staring at the floor after the buzzing around her quiets down. Minutes or hours pass by, the work day is over, steps fade away, doors close, people leave.

“Now now… What's the matter here lass?”

It’s the Scottish dude, unbearably benign, and looking like he’s actually caring about why she looks so devastated.

So, the other operators haven’t yet heard.

She doubts if König will receive much more than a scolding for what he did, high-ranked and fiercely dedicated to his work as he is. The man’s simply too valuable to be thrown away. They will just blow enough money to cover this shit right up.

This is not a regular army, and these are not regular people.

Soap sits down next to her, and she doesn’t even mind. At least he’s normal. At least something in this world is still intact, and smiling kindly.

"König did–König did something terrible."

She snobs and snivels, nose clogged and numb, eyes still burning from the tears. Soap looks at her with unadulterated concern, then pity. His brows knit together and he swallows before sighing profoundly.

"Right. What did he do now?"

When she only continues to stare at the floor, Soap raises a hand and starts to rub her back. Rather forcefully, to make it clear that he's not making a pass at her.

“Did he do something to you?”

She shakes her head slowly, because technically, it’s the truth. He didn’t knife her down.

Soap doesn’t ask any further questions. He must know without telling that König has done something bad, something fucking foul even if she hasn't been at the receiving end of it.

"Wanna hear my advice? Just stay away from that guy. Don't talk to him, don't pay attention to him."

The hand on her back stops as he thinks of more advice to give her while her heart grows cold and lonely.

"Just pretend that he doesn't exist."

It’s another punch in the gut to hear that she, the invisible girl, should simply return to her invisibleness and condemn König to nonexistence, too. To cast him out and send him even further into exile. To pretend that he had never been inside her, never brought her gifts.

The hand disappears, but then she feels padded gloves on her chin. She's too tired to flinch, and the hand gently coaxes her to turn her head and look back at the Scottish sunshine.

"Now… Give me a little smile, lass. It can't be that bad."

He’s not flirting with her.

She’s far too plain for Soap.

Or at least, that’s how she feels: unattractive, to men like him. To twinkling brown eyes, a perfect jawline, good jokes and outgoingness… She's had a few admirers but König is the only man who has looked at her like she’s nothing short of a goddess.

Soap, however, is the only one who came to clumsily cheer her up from the slump that witnessing a violent stabfest has sent her in. Everyone else just rushed by with feigned hurry. Every kindness she receives, she usually returns tenfold… But kindness is also a burden. Under the surface, she mainly wants to get rid of Soap; wants just to be left alone. Finally go back to her room and cry herself to sleep.

So she gives him a smile, shy enough to make him believe it’s genuine.

"There we go," he smiles back like an innocent sun, and behind him, in the darkening hallway, she catches the approaching giant: a black hood and under that, a bone-searing blue gaze.

"Wait–wait, wait!"

She darts from the bench, between Soap and him, like her lithe little body is enough to shield John MacTavish from a murderous titan.

If a man who spills coffee on her deserves to be stabbed more than a dozen times, what will happen to a man who has dared to touch her and make her smile?

"Don't,” her hand meets the steel of König's chest, and the blood drunk Goliath actually stops.

“Don’t, König, please."

The ice-cold gaze drops to her, and there’s such a range of emotion behind those blues that she has a hard time catching even half of the storm raging inside her maniac.

Soap rises from the bench behind her: the rustle of clothes and the squeak of gear tell her as much.

"Caught the girl crying,” he says with poorly disguised trepidation in his voice. “Now I don't know what you have done but maybe you should apologize."

Soap’s bravery is admirable. The flash of rage that is sent behind her could scald flesh from bones.

She presses herself against König, hugs his middle, tries to guide his attention elsewhere.

Just let the him go, please, no more…

Soap could perhaps defend himself for a while, but she doubts if the Austrian war machine would stop even when he’s shot full of holes.

Gargantuan arms go around her like a cage: she’s his, and forever will be. The true cost of being cast out from heaven is heavier than she had ever imagined; the tears that arise are born from a deeper trauma than that of witnessing a homicide in her quiet little break room.

. . . . .

König waits as she goes to have a shower. He follows her like a dark cloud as she goes to throw her work clothes, stained with coffee and the memory of blood, to the washing machine. He waits with statuelike composure as she finally sits on her bed, hair still dripping wet and leaving damp stains on her cute little white dress.

Wearing white seems like an abomination right now.

"I told you I don't want you to hurt people," she says quietly while watching how the water gathers at the tip of the strings of hair and tip-tip-tips on her dress and hands.

The man says nothing to defend himself. All the rage and fury is gone, his shoulders are tense, high up in the sky, almost in his ears. He’s shielding himself, and it makes her confused – clearly, he feels empathy, so why is he like… like this?

"I don't think you understand,” she swallows, heart beating more calmly now. He’s not going to plunge a knife in her, that much is certain. But still…

"I'm afraid of you."

She raises her stare: a powerful accusation, a woman's weapon. His head pulls back – he's surprised at this newfound nerve.

"I'm afraid of you, König," she emphasizes, much louder now. The declaration rings so true that it leaves her breathless and free, even powerful.

He, on the other hand, is a paralyzed beast. A golem stripped of the magical word that makes him a soulless robot. His eyes betray fear of loss for the first time, real, actual fear. He steps toward her, and when she doesn’t stop him, walks slowly to where she’s sitting.

He falls to one knee, slowly, so slowly – like she's a bird about to fly off. It pulls at her heart, it rattles the cage of her ribs. The frigid padding of his gloves touch her cheek, and she surrenders an inch or two. Maybe more than that.

She doesn’t know who lifts the mask, he or she, but her lips meet his desperate ones under all that black.

"I'm afraid of you…"

She whispers it on his lips, in his mouth, although she’s not afraid anymore. She’s pissed, and somewhat in love, and addled, shaken, ruffled to her core.

The kiss turns into a hungry one when he notices she’s not meaning what she says. Before long, she's on her knees too, and he's devouring her until she finds herself in his arms, being gently set on the floor. A trembling hand disappears under the hem of her dress, and the fabric comes up with it as he travels up her thigh.

But the only thing that’s wet right now is her hair, everything else is parched dry, locked up, sealed like the tomb of Tutankhamun, and there are curses in store for the one who will try to enter with force. Hell, even with a trembling, delicate hand.

And it’s not because she can’t get aroused – she could, in mere minutes with him – but because she’s not wet at the very instant he’s in her presence, that makes her grab the hand currently trying to get some solace from her.

"No."

He stops but doesn’t move that hand away. He’s panting in her mouth: needy, and in a whirlpool of despair. The only thing that can make him feel better is her wetness, which she cannot provide him.

The hand probes; it forces its way up just an inch.

"No."

She's relentless, and he finally draws his hand away, only to place it hesitantly and with an immense amount of grief, on her waist. She feels tiny under that giant palm.

"I'm not your plaything," she whispers, even finds the courage to shoot a tiny glare his way.

The hand does not apply pressure. If anything, it grows lighter and lighter with the fear of scaring her away.

"I made a mistake, Engel," he breathes. "You're not a toy."

Her eyes must betray both her hurt and longing because the man ups the stakes immediately.

"I'll give you anything you want," he tries: so desperately, so seriously that it sounds quite ridiculous.

"Can you just go," she whispers while a tear or two push out from the corner of her eyes. They’re hot as hell because they’re born of odd love.

"Engel–"

"Just leave."

The fingers on her waist curl, they grab her dainty little dress like it’s his only gateway to heaven. He releases the fabric soon enough, then grabs it again and lets out an agonizing sound.

Just go, go, please just leave me be…

She wants him to understand that there are consequences to his actions, and at the same time, she wants him to just hold her, to fix everything and fix her. It doesn't take the bitter taste of betrayal off her tongue to realize that she always knew what he was. She knew.

He rises to his feet, paces around a few times, more and more confused, distressed like a tortured animal. She sniffs and curls into a fetal position, hoping that he would just leave, and at the same time, hoping that he would brush off her demands and just hug her.

"I can't," he finally wails as if he can hear even her thoughts. "You're crying…”

It breaks her heart into million pieces – how can the same man stress and fuss about her tears when just hours ago, he had murdered some innocent man in cold blood?

He comes to the heap of her again, falls to his knees, then caresses her arm so softly that at first she thinks she’s just imagining the touch.

"Little angel," he tries.

Her following sob is like that of a child's. Why does he have to be so perfect and at the same time, such a–

"I know that I'm a monster."

Her eyes want to fly wide open, but she keeps them shut. He's self-aware, so much so that it hurts. He pets her more neurotically now; it's almost as if he's comforting himself and not her.

"Don't send me away," he begs, then curls behind her in an awkward spooning, holds and rocks her gently as she cries some more. After the catharsis that lasts for good long minutes, he gathers her like a doll in his arms and carries her to the bed so she doesn't have to lie on the cold, hard floor.

"I'll make it better," he says again and again as he caresses her and strokes her hair, "I promise I'll make it better…"

“Just go,” she cuts him off with a whisper.

He leaves eventually, after some more pacing and a few sighs, and she understands that he actually cared for her all this time: otherwise, he would've just taken what he wanted.

She slips into a dream, a soft oblivion where everything is well and summer is at its peak. They hold hands and stroll through the freshly cut grass, birds are singing, and he has no mask.

Taglist:

@ghostinvenus @konigsleftkidney @stillinracooncity @valenspuppy @koionthewalls

#könig x reader #könig x female reader #könig x you #könig fanfiction #könig #mw2 smut #mw2 fanfic #könig smut #konig x reader #call of duty #mw2 x reader #yandere könig #könig imagine #just friends

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thatdeadaquarius · 9 months

Note

Okay so-- i was reading some sagau posts and came across this one where the reader was an army vet and my brain just Did Its Thing--

So now I'm here to inflict this on to you--

Would guns be considered as catalysts. And would they only do Phys Damage.

Me reading this ask:

😶 😐 🤨 🧐 🧐 😰 🥲 😭😭😭 💀

STOP YOU'VE INFLICTED ME WITH PSYCHOLOGICAL DMG FROM THIS ASK 😭

(Also srry took so long to respond, when i didnt realize how short this was/was just sitting over here 😓)

^ For the sake of gun imagery being a lot/maybe staff might hate me for it,

we'll put this gay shit instead (i almost mispelled to "gay shot" lmao)

☆

Sun: Army Veteran Reader, Gender neutral Reader (you/they/them)

Orbit: SHORT Headcanons

Stars: everybody bc i think itd be funny

Comets & Meteors: Content Warnings: gun stuff, mild violence, mild cursing & Trigger Warnings: Gun fun everywhere

THIS ASK HAS ME GIGGLING TO MYSELF LIKE A MANIAC

You're out here having a whole gun they let you take for off-base

And u ofc have a license so u can conceal carry

(idk how non-american gun laws work, but tbh ours are so fucked idk how they work here either, just that an army guy i knew once could have his gun when he got back home)

And ofc ur just paranoid enough (more like it just makes u feel safe)

That when u get yoinked into a portal to a silly little brightly colored gacha game fantasy world, the gun comes with 💀

Id like to add in my silly little "ur in a video game, so video game rules" AU version of genshin so:

The only other gun (ish) wielder (Mika) has unlimited bolts

Sooo I'd think your gun would be the same jfc lol

NO BC YOUD SCARE THE ACTUAL SHIT OUT OF EVERYONE IN UR VICINITY IN A BATTLE

BC GUNSHOTS ARE A DIFFERENT TYPE OF LOUD

When u first stumble into abyss monsters/hostile creatures of the realm, u nearly scare off a Lawlachurl bc every shot's like thunder to these bitches😭

So not only the monsters but the vision holders think u fucking summoned lightning

OMG THE BULLETS ARE SO FAST THEYD PROBABLY NOT SEE IT

ESP BC DISTRACTED BY GUNSHOT LOUDNESS

SO U AIM THIS LITTLE BLACK CROSSBOW (???) AND THINGS JUST DIE (OR GET RIDDLED WITH HOLES) WITH NO CLEAR ARROW STICKING OUT

STOPP- you're becoming a witchy god or smth to all of Teyvat bc it just looks like hella high level magic atp to them LMAOOO

Rumors of you get out of hand and say u just point or snap ur fingers and things get wounded/just die on the spot 💀

Oh another difference between Teyvatians seeing ur gun vs. crossbow (what they know)

Is that guns are wayyyy more destructive

Like an arrow would get shot but it'd bounce off of things like rock or wood or metal, maybe dent a little depending on how close

But a bullet goes thru that shit so easy, and leaves a whole little explosion behind, once again depending on range

(I once saw a Mythbusters episode? of them proving bullets would definitely go thru car doors, like movies lied to u, this is why drive-bys acc work like for gangs)

Lmao, the image of you in like full armor with a Teyvat made automatic gun after showing it to blacksmiths

Makes u just more convincing as a god, esp bc military training

(Ppl like Gorou and Kokomi begging for military tactics/training ur world has done)

...

....Ok.

I'll address it.

But only so u dont think im stupid later.

Yes, the Fatui have guns.

No, this not the same as having a glock LMAO

End of story.

(Also, urs runs on bullets, whereas the Fatui rely on magic/delusions to power theirs, plus they dont seem as fast or destructive as urs, more "explosions aimed at you" than real bullets)

Which,,, u leave the managing of ppl copying ur gun to ppl like the Qixing or smth, but make sure to give them advice on good gun laws if teyvat accidentally revolutionizes bc of ur advanced gun that anybody can wield (non-vision users)

Thats the best ive got abt that

Oh, also enjoy being praised as a War god now.

☆

... dammit i had smth i was gonna tell u guys-

Uh what tf was it, it was important

Next post is the Eldritch God Oneshot! Look out for it :) !!

☆

Safe Travels Kid,

💀♒️

♡the beloveds♡

@karmawonders / @0rah-s / @randomnatics / @glxssynarvi / @nexylaza / @genshin-impacts-me / @wholesomey-artist / @thedevioussmirk / @the-dumber-scaramouche / @chocogi / @fallen-starr / @areaderofbooks

If you wanna join a taglist, DM me what for! "Pspspsss, please tag me for [All SAGAU posts, Only SAGAU Language AUs, diff fandom, etc.]!"

(If you ever wanna drop, just DM me! "No more taglists/[specifically this AU/fandom] please!")

#lookie i made my first border image guys!! 🥺#a little rough but eh #i used a stock image and then added that little moon #also this gun shit takes me out i could write just a whole crack oneshot abt ending up in teyvat with a gun lmao #genshin sagau #genshin impact #sagau #genshin isekai #genshin imagines #my asks #gender neutral reader #genshin impact sagau #self aware genshin #✨️forgot all my tags again✨️#uh #genshin harem #i mean what #genshin x reader

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badkitty3000 · 3 months

Text

Weak

Even Five Hargreeves is no stranger to temptation. He tries so hard to stay away. He wants to do the right thing for once in his life. If not for himself, then for her. But every man has his breaking point.

Five Hargreeves x Reader Smut

This one shot is an accompaniment to my other work "Addicted". This can be read on its own, but is a different side of the story, as told from Five's point of view.

As always, I am open to requests. Thank you!

My Master List Of Number Five Fanfiction

Weak:

I never meant to take it this far. I never meant to be cruel. That’s not who I am, or at least I didn’t think I was. I also thought I was strong and had will power. But I guess I was wrong about that, too. Because as much as I try to stay away, I don’t.

I know who I am and what I’m made of. The terrible things I’ve done. That’s not a secret and I’ve never lied to myself about that. My morals can’t even be called a gray area anymore; they’re more like an indistinct blur. But in this one tiny part of my soul, I was trying to be better. For her, at least.

I have failed miserably.

She knows what I am. When things got too comfortable and too familiar, I told her as a way to push her away and to scare her. It didn’t work, though. In fact, it had the opposite effect. She fucking loved it…and I didn’t know how to say no to that.

How could I say no when she was tearing at my clothes, practically panting with desire, and shoving her hand down my pants? All over a bloody stain on a shirt collar and the feel of my Glock against her skin. I’m sure there’s a way to resist that, but fuck if I know what it is. I’m not smart enough or strong enough to figure that one out.

I don’t particularly like all of the killing. But I’m pretty fucking good at it and someone has to do it, I suppose. I certainly never considered it sexy in any way. Then, after that first time, when she begged me to tell her all of the gruesome details, and I watched her skin start to flush and her pupils dilate…well, fuck, that put a new spin on everything.

I still don’t like it, that part hasn’t changed. I get no pleasure from pulling that trigger and watching their skull break open like a fucking pinata, spraying the contents of their brains all over the floor like the world’s worst party game. Now, however, there is a sick little spark that will ignite in me after it’s done. Because I know how it will turn her on.

And, fuck, I am weak.

That’s what this all boils down to. Weakness. For most people that meet me or know me in any way, weak is probably the last word they would use to describe me. Cold; bitter; sarcastic; asshole. Those adjectives are much more likely to be used. But weak? Doubtful.

I know the truth, though. Deep down, that is what I am. Because when you continue to break someone’s heart time and time again, just because you can’t control your own basic urges…that’s weakness. Pure and simple.

She has told me how much I’ve hurt her, and how much I am ruining her life. She has screamed and cried and told me all of the things I know I deserve to hear. She has called me an asshole more times than I can remember, and I have never disputed it. So, I stay away, like I know I should. Until she inevitably calls again. And I slip right back into it without another thought. Like the absolute fucking bastard that I am.

Weak.

Because even though I know it’s wrong and I’m slowly poisoning her with my selfishness, each time I think maybe it will be different. Maybe this time will be the time when I stay. When I will finally be the person I should be and really want to be.

All the way up until the early morning, I will convince myself that this is it. I’ve finally seen the light and I can be the man she deserves; it will be so easy. Because when it’s just the two of us, in our own little cocoon, hidden away from the outside world, the idea is magical. I would give anything to stay there, tucked away, fucking like animals until we’re both too exhausted to talk anymore. I want to stay there and listen to her voice, and her laugh, and feel her hands on my touch-starved body. And I think, yes, this is it. This is what I want.

Then morning comes and the spell is broken.

Once that first peek of dawn starts to light up the sky, all of my anxieties come rushing back, and I remember why I can’t stay. Morning brings back the real world, and with it all of its problems.

I will freeze up, practically paralyzed with fear, as she sleeps next to me, an arm draped over my chest. I will remember what kind of person I really am, and how that just doesn’t translate to boyfriend material. And it’s not just the little fact that I am a hired assassin, although that does put a slight snag in any future meetings with parents and the like.

It’s the mixing bowl of fucked up thoughts and feelings and history that lives inside my brain. Guilt. Regret. Sadness. Rage. Take your pick, none of them are great. And I can mask them for a night or two, while I’m pretending to be someone I’m not. But they will come back again, and that’s just not something anyone needs. Especially someone you care about.

So, I do the worst, shittiest thing in the world, and leave while she’s asleep. No kiss goodbye. No note. Not even a quick morning fuck. I grab my shit and leave in a flash of blue light, like the weak coward I am. Can’t even bother to use the god damn door.

I will stay away after that. At least for a while. I will ignore the incoming texts and voice mails that sometimes will follow, and sometimes don’t. I’ll pretend I don’t care about the lectures and pleas and rightly-deserved insults. But I do care. And that’s why I won’t answer.

A month might go past, maybe more. Just enough time for me to start thinking she really is done with me. Then the call will come through, late at night, and I won’t ignore it. Because, as we’ve determined…I am weak.

She is the only one, although I’ve never told her that and I bet she thinks she’s not. I’m not interested in anyone else. I don’t need anyone else. And when she stops calling for good, which one day I know will happen, that will be it. It’s either her or nobody. And it’s barely even her.

Our paths almost never cross outside of our little midnight meetings. After that first night when all of this started, I’ve never seen her anywhere else besides her apartment. I assume it’s because the types of bars and clubs I frequent are not anywhere a normal, sane person would want to spend their free evenings. But tonight, as fate would have it, I do see her. After I grab my drink off the cracked and peeling bar top and turn to look at the room behind me, I see her. And she’s not alone.

With my glass half way to my mouth, our eyes meet, and for a second neither of us move. It’s not a big place, so we aren’t that far away from one another. But it’s loud and crowded, and the guy is leaning in close to her ear, talking loudly to be heard over the constant bass thumping through the shitty speakers on the walls. Who the fuck is this guy?

It’s not fair, I know that. Believe me, I know that. And I try to give myself a stern talking-to inside my head. She is not yours. Not even remotely. You are an asshole and she deserves better. Leave her the fuck alone.

I take a drink. And then I see his hand disappear under the table, and I can see everything from where I’m standing. He’s squeezing her thigh, leaving his hand there to rest on her leg, rubbing his thumb across the bare skin that isn’t covered by her short skirt. A skirt I know I’ve had my face under before.

Fuck. I hate this guy.

In the thirty seconds that it takes for all of this to happen, she is watching me. Reading me. A faint smile plays on her lips and I know I’m caught. My thoughts must be written all over my face like a fucking billboard, and it’s too late to pretend I haven’t seen or that I don’t care. She’s got me.

If I were stronger, or a better person, I would leave. Pay my tab, collect my coat, and get the fuck out of there without another glance in her direction. Leave her be. Let her live her fucking life. But I am not. And I’m pissed.

My first instinct is to reach behind me, grab the Glock that’s hidden in the waistband of my pants and covered up by my suit jacket, and take care of this asshole right then and there. That would probably be the nicer thing to do, honestly. Then she’d finally see what a fucking psycho I am and that would end things once and for all. But I’m also not that stupid. Or that nice.

Instead, I stay and watch. I let her see me watching, too. I lean with my back against the bar, casually sipping my drink, and my eyes never leave her. I want her to know, even if it makes me more of a giant dick than I already am. I want her to know I am not pleased.

I have no idea who this guy is, and I don’t care. Maybe it’s their first date; maybe it’s their tenth. It doesn’t matter, I want him dead. And now that she knows that, because it’s pretty fucking obvious by the way I’m coiled like a cobra ready to strike right now, it’s quickly become a game. If she had feelings for him before, that seems to have been forgotten now. Because everything she is doing is for me.

Her eyes leave mine and she returns to what I can only imagine is a very dull conversation with the Neanderthal sitting next to her. She smiles and laughs, and moves her leg closer to his so that they are touching. She reaches up and fixes his hair, tucking a stray piece of it over his ear. She rests her chin on her hand and stares at him like he’s the most interesting person she’s ever encountered. And he’s eating this shit up; kicking his game up a notch with even more inane talk and rubbing her thigh up and down with his whole hand. He thinks she’s into him. Fucking dumbass.

That’s the only thing keeping me slightly calm at the moment. Knowing it’s all a play. She is a really good actress, I’ll give her that, but I’ve paid more attention to her than she realizes. I know her tells. I know the difference between her fake laugh and her real one. I can tell when she’s actively engaged in the conversation or she is just waiting for you to shut up. I know how she touches her face when she’s nervous and I know what she looks like when she wants to fuck you.

And, buddy…I got bad news for you.

The corner of my mouth lifts in an arrogant smirk as I take another drink. I shouldn’t be proud of this; I should be appalled. How dare I think I have any right to any of her little traits and quirks? I haven’t earned that. That kind of thing is reserved for boyfriends and husbands and people that can stand to stick around for more than a few hours.

When she runs her tongue over her lips in an obvious gesture meant only for me, I actually laugh out loud. Fuck, she knows what she’s doing. And it’s one hundred percent working.

As I order my second drink, feeling the calming buzz of the booze fill my brain, I start to care less and less. I don’t care if this is not fair. I don’t care that I’m being a complete and utter shit head. I don’t care if I’m weak. I’ll deal with all of that later.

I take out my phone and type out a quick text.

Enjoying yourself?

I watch as she glances to her phone on the table as it lights up. She picks it up, angling it away from Caveman Cliff, and reads it. It’s subtle, but I saw it. A brief twitch of her mouth and a quick flit of her eyes in my direction. I see her type out a quick reply and then she is back to him, completely enrapt in his droning.

Immensely, thank you

Not able to resist, I counter with:

Even I can tell from way over here that your panties are as dry as the desert

She holds in a smile as she responds back.

Too bad you’re not going to find out

Honey, if that pussy of yours is even slightly wet, it’s only because you’re thinking of me bending you over that table you’re sitting at right now

I see her legs shift and she crosses one over the other, squeezing them together as a faint blush covers her cheeks.

And why would I be thinking that?

Because that dipshit you’re with isn’t going to give you what I know you want

I watch as she swallows and then glances at the idiot to her left that is oblivious to all of this, the poor bastard. Her response is short.

Fuck you

She puts her phone away to end this exchange, but I see the small smile she is trying to hide and the way she touches her hand to her face. I can see her chest expand as she sucks in a deep breath, biting at the inside of her cheek.

I give a short snort of satisfaction and put my phone back in my inside jacket pocket. I got what I wanted. I throw back the rest of my drink, leave a few dollars for a tip, and head for the door without another look in her direction. But I know she saw me leave.

As I wait there in the dark, I think about how awful I’m being; what a shit bag move this is. I’m using her, that’s what it boils down to. Using her for her warmth and her openness, and to temporarily calm my mind. Also, for her body and her touch. She sees something in me that isn’t there; or at least something I can’t see. But I can’t or won’t give her what she needs, and I’m also not letting her move on.

Fuck, I’m an asshole.

I hear their voices coming down the hall, the rattle of keys in her hand. As they near the door, I can hear her made up excuses. She’s tired; she had too much to drink; she has a headache. Maybe next time. She’ll call him tomorrow. Then she slips inside her darkened apartment and the door closes behind her.

I’m on her before she has a chance to turn the light on, pressing her against the door as she drops her keys on the floor. Since I’ve been waiting, the anticipation has already made me fully hard and I push my groin into her while I circle my hand lightly around her neck.

“What’s the matter, sweetheart? No love connection tonight?” I growl next to her ear.

She never even screams or fights back. She knew I would be there. But her hands grab my forearm and I hear her suck in a loud breath.

“I never knew you were the jealous type,” she smarts back.

“Only when I see someone try to take what’s mine,” I hiss hotly against her neck, drawing my lips and then my tongue across her skin.

“I’m not your fucking property,” she snarls, but I can hear the break in her voice and she swallows hard against my hand.

I laugh cynically. “Well, then I can go and you can let him fuck you instead. Is that what you want?”

There’s a long pause and it’s just our loud breathing in the dark of the room. Then I feel her head move slowly from side to side.

“No,” she whispers.

As I crash my mouth onto hers, my hands in her hair and on her face, and down to her tits, she is reaching for the front of my pants. I had already removed my jacket and belt when I got there, as well as the pistol that I always carry with me. Our little act back at the bar was already enough foreplay and our bodies are screaming for each other.

Our hands can’t work fast enough as she is shoving my pants down my legs and tearing my shirt open while I rip her top off and yank her skirt up. My fingers are already pushing her panties to the side and entering her, sliding right in with no resistance.

I smile proudly against her neck. “I knew you were wet for me.”

As she moans and throws her head back, she is reaching down to stroke my cock, her warm hand tight and firm as she drags it slowly over my shaft.

My hips are already jerking into her and I want to be inside of her so badly I can’t think straight.

“Get these panties off so I can fuck you,” I snarl.

I pull my fingers out, pushing her underwear down roughly and she quickly steps out of them. With one pull of her hips into me, her arms clutching tightly to my shoulders, I lift her up and start fucking her against the door.

I tip my head back and groan loudly as she whines and pulls her legs tighter around my waist.

“Can he make you feel this good?” I ask between clenched teeth as I ram into her harder and the door rattles in its frame.

“No!” she cries out.

“Do you think about him when you’re alone and fingering yourself?”

Her moans are punctuated by the slamming of my body against hers and her fingers press deeper into my skin.

“No,” she breathes out. “No.”

“You think about me, don’t you?” I say with a sneer. When she doesn’t answer fast enough, I ask again, louder. “Don’t you?”

“Yes,” she whimpers pitifully, her nails digging sharply into my shoulder blades.

I can’t believe what I’m saying and what I’m doing. But she’s loving it and so I continue.

“I’m going to fuck you until you forget all about him, and then I’m going to fuck you some more. And if I ever see you with him again, I will kill him.”

“You wanted to kill him, didn’t you?” she asks, and that knowing smile starts to form as she closes her eyes and bites her lip. “When you saw him with me?”

“Fuck yes I did,” I groan loudly into her neck.

She’s almost there, I can tell. So am I, but I’m going to make her finish first. I pick up the pace, thrusting into her as hard as I can, her back and head slamming against the door, my fingers digging deeper into the flesh of her thighs and ass. I’m practically ripping into the side of her neck, latching on with my mouth and teeth, desperate to mark her as my own.

I listen as she repeats my name over and over in gasps and moans and I can’t hold back anymore.

“That’s it, sweetheart. You are all mine.”

She is falling apart in my arms, violently shaking against me as I penetrate her one last time, letting out a loud, guttural moan. I’m as deep inside of her as I can be, and I fill her up with so much cum, I know it will start sliding out; dripping down her legs and onto the floor. Somewhere deep inside, in the primordial part of my brain, I take satisfaction in knowing that it’s my seed, and only mine, that is coating her insides.

Once the last spasm has left my body, I let her down and she falls back against the door, breathing hard. Her bra is still on, but the straps have fallen down, and her skirt is bunched up around her waist. I look at the painful looking purple bruise I left on her neck, which is large enough and obvious enough that she won’t be able to cover it. Her eye makeup is smeared and her lips are swollen and red. She looks completely ravished. And then she starts to cry.

It’s because of me, I know it is. Because of the things I said and the things I did, and the way I needed her so desperately. She had been trying to break away from me and I reeled her back in. And I did it knowingly and deliberately, just to feed my ego and maybe not feel so alone. I could have found anyone for that. But, like the prick I am, I only wanted her.

“I’m sorry,” I say quietly, my lungs still working hard to get air in and out.

She just nods silently, wiping her face with her hand, and pulls down her skirt. She picks her shirt and underwear off the floor and heads to the bathroom without a word. I’m left standing there with a softening dick and my pants around my ankles.

Fuck.

I could leave now, while she’s in there, and maybe I should. That feels wrong, though. But then again, so does staying. I feel like shit and I’m so full of shame that I want to punch my fist through the wall. Instead, I zip my pants back up and walk over to her couch to wait. I turn on the table lamp and even though it’s dim, it feels blaringly bright and I have to squint my eyes.

When she comes out, she has changed into some soft shorts and a t-shirt. Her face is cleaned up and I assume her thighs and the area between them are too. She is no longer crying, but I can still see the tell-tale signs of red-rimmed eyes and flushed cheeks. I’m surprised when she comes and sits down next to me, laying her head on my shoulder.

“I’m sorry,” I say again, because I can’t think of anything better to say.

“I know. Me too,” she says and she leans her body against mine.

She has nothing to be sorry for and I’m not sure what to do, so I put my arm around her and hug her to me. I kiss her forehead and she closes her eyes. I don’t know why she’s letting me do this, but it feels good and I like it. Just like every other time, I tell myself that maybe this time will be different. I can do this; I can be that person. I don’t want to be that other jealous, callous, hurtful person. I don’t want to be the asshole.

“Just don’t go yet, ok?” she says quietly with her cheek resting against my chest.

I smooth her hair and run my hand down her back. I don’t want to go. She feels good and warm and soft against my tension-filled body. She feels right. I want to tell her all of that, too. I want to say I’m sorry a million times over and beg for her forgiveness. I want to wake up with her next to me every day.

“You’re so beautiful, you know that?” I murmur into her hair as I brush my chin across the top of her head.

“Don’t do that,” she pleads, her voice soft. “Please.”

I decide I’m going to tell her how I really feel. Before the night is over, I’ll come clean. And then I’ll stay. If she’ll still have me.

“You are, though. I mean it.”

She doesn’t respond, but sighs and nestles in, holding me around my waist. Fuck, I have craved this. More than the dirty talk and the biting and the ferocious fucking. I want this. I want her. And I’m going to tell her.

The rest of the night goes by in a blur. It’s there, on the tip of my tongue the whole time. All I have to do is say it. But I don’t.

We fuck again, rough and hard, on the couch and on the floor. I leave more marks on her chest, branding her as my own. I tell her she’s mine, and I make her scream my name again, but I don’t say what I really mean.

We fuck in her bed, while we’re both tired and slightly drunk. I pump lazily into her while she lies underneath me and moans softly. I kiss her lips and tell her how gorgeous she is, and it’s not a lie because she is. I worship her body, running my tongue over every part of it, tasting her skin and her delicious arousal. I can taste my own cum as I lick into her soft folds and inside her pussy that’s been stretched and abused by my cock several times over.

There are so many opportunities and I don’t take any of them. I let her fold her body into mine as I hold her in the dark and I can say it right now. It would be easy and it would be the truth.

I want to be with you.

I want to be yours.

I want you to be mine and mine alone.

I want to stay.

But I am weak, and so I don’t.

She sleeps against me and I listen to her rhythmic breathing while I lie there wide awake. I think about all of the things I should have said. Everything I should have done and should not have done. I hate myself for all of it.

When the sun creeps in, and the faintest light is leaking through the curtains and cutting through the safety of the darkness, it all comes crashing back. I remember why I can’t stay and why those words just wouldn’t come out. The reality of the real world is glaringly obvious in the light of day and I remember all of it.

The real world is filled with everyday things like jobs and homes and bills to pay. Coworkers and families that want to meet you. Graduation and birthday parties. Movie and dinner dates, holidays and vacations. Marriage. Children. Normalcy.

There’s just no way any of that would work. I can’t fit into that life, even though I want to. I think of all of the things holding me back and they keep piling up until they are crushing me and I feel like I can’t breathe.

I am an assassin. A killer. A murderer. I have seen the end of the world and survived the most horrific things. I have PTSD and crippling anxiety. There are nightmares and paranoia and episodes of manic rage. I am old and I am tired. There is nothing left of me and nothing left to give. I am not meant for normalcy.

As I slowly remove her arm from across my chest, she stirs but she doesn’t wake. I take a moment to look at her. Her mind isn’t betraying her with vivid dreams of the world collapsing around her in a fiery blaze or sprays of bullets piercing her body. She is at peace and I am envious of that.

I am not good for her, I know that. I need to go and stay gone. She deserves stability and happiness and a million other things I cannot give her. So, I will be the asshole that leaves in the morning before she wakes, just like I always do. She will hate me and curse me and cry for me. And I will stay away this time. I have to.

I chance it by leaning in and brushing my lips across her forehead. Her face wrinkles up and then relaxes again, but she doesn’t wake. I slip out of the bed and out of the room, following the trail of discarded clothes and put them back on one by one. Then I am gone in the same flash of light that allowed me to enter there in the first place. A convenient exit that I have misused way too many times.

Outside, the sun is bright and the world is waking up. I can feel my resolve growing stronger as the new day builds. That was it, I am done. It was awful and I shouldn’t have done it, but it’s over now and I will not be repeating it. I am a pillar of inner strength. That was the last time and she is finally free of me. I am doing the right thing.

My strength is impressive, both inside and out. But it is not impenetrable, especially when darkness falls and the world around me grows quiet. When I am alone with nothing but my thoughts, and I just need to feel something good again.

Everyone has a weakness.

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jupiter-va · 11 months

Note

Omg I also never thought of Abby with a gun play thing but now it has me thinking thoughts as well…I need to hear yours!!

Okay I've had a nap and I'm a bit more energized so here we go. These are SFW and NSFW btw (This got long I'm sorry, also, I'm better at dirty talking than I am at writing about sex lol)

✧˖° ‧Abby and her Guns ✧˖°

CW: talks of guns/consensual gunplay, mean!abby, degradation (kinda)

||MDNI

❥I completely agree with the ask I got earlier saying that Abby has sort of a fixation on them. Not in a weird way, she just kinda likes knowing how they work, how each part connects to the other, etc.

❥I'm not much of a gun girly, but I am southern and a lot of people I know have guns so based on my limited knowledge, I think her gun of choice is like a hybrid of a Glock and another pistol, can't recall the name (canonically, it's just called the "Military Pistol" in the game, correct me if I'm wrong but that's what it looks like). But I'm thinking she like's compact pistols for everyday use in general cus they're smaller than a full sized handgun, but they pack a punch and are easy to conceal which is useful for obvious reasons

❥I imagine she keeps them in the best condition she possibly can, of course she does, she needs them almost daily

❥It's one day when she's taking guns apart and cleaning them that you notice just how good she looks doing it. She looks good doing everything, but with this, the look of concentration on her face, combined with how swiftly she takes them apart and puts them back together without fumbling or breaking a sweat. The confidence and precision in her movements is enough to make you squirm and she notices

❥She's quick to break her concentration for the sole purpose of teasing you, asking you to come closer as she rattles off her knowledge about each separate gun to you.

❥She innocently "shows" you the best places to aim for when shooting someone. Slowly dragging an (unloaded) pistol from the waistband of your pants to your midsection, and applying a slight pressure to your stomach with the barrel of the gun

❥She'd notice you squirming/whining and honestly, I think she'd be a little mean about it

"You're sick, you know that baby? Making those pretty sounds for me, all because I've got a gun to your tummy?"

"You do realize how fucked up it is that you're into this, right?"

❥You're more than aware of how fucked up it is, but as she drags the gun from your midsection to your chest up to your neck, until she finally stops, resting the pistol up under your chin, you honestly can't bring yourself to care

❥Someone brought up the idea of Abby fucking you while holding a gun up to your stomach and honestly, whoever it was ate with that, I agree wholeheartedly, however, for the past 20 minutes I've been thinking about her having you get on all fours while having the gun to your back. You can't see it, but you can feel it and you hear the click each time she pulls the trigger and it just ups the sensation you feel by 100

❥Of course, the gun isn't loaded, but that doesn't stop Abby from taking you from behind and dragging the pistol down your back, stopping every so often to pull the trigger. It can't hurt you, but each click of the gun sends chills down your spine in the best way

❥Despite how fucked out and overstimulated you get, it's almost like Abby can't help but to fuck you harder, making sure she drags this out for as long as she can. She loves watching as each click of the gun jolts you back into reality and listening as your now incoherent murmurs grow louder and more desperate with each thrust.

Yeah, this is gonna have to be an audio lol, I have more things I wanna say but I'm much better at articulating them when I'm speaking as if I'm actually in the scenario rather than writing it down.

#abby anderson #abby anderson audio #abby anderson headcanons #✧jupiter's thoughts✧#abby tlou2 #abby anderson x reader #abby anderson hcs

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a-twistedheartslonging · 1 month

Note

Hiii, Harpy anon again.

I have more thoughts. Instead of making Idia a dog boy, I say we make him an insect. Mostly because there are some insects out there that just make sense for him. (Also because he kinda look like bug to me tbh)

For example, spiders. (Yes I know they aren't insects but they look insects and that's all that matters) Spiders specifically have a lot of significance in Greek mythology, so it would make sense for Idia (who is based off a Greek god) to have some kind of connection there. But also spiders tend to be solitary creatures, they don't live in groups and only come together during mating. And a lot of the time, during mating the males are killed by their female mates. Which..I feel like is why Idia would avoid Yuu like the plague. Because all he can think about near them is "Mate.Mate.Mate.Mate.MATE-" and he's scared if he tries anything he'll get killed immediately.

Now I don't know if we've talked about Ortho yet but I feel like he's a little robot bee. I know it doesn't really go with spider Idia but Robot bee Ortho would be so gosh darn cute. There was a study done on bee's that came to the conclusion that when bee's bump into eachother they make a little "Whoop" noise. IMAGINE BUMPING INTO BEE ORTHO AND HE JUST GOES "Whoop!"

AGSJSGAHSVSS

Ahem, sorry got carried away there for a sec. Bee's are also very protected of their hive and other bees in said hive, so I can't help but imagine if Yuu gets picked on Ortho immediately just pulls out the laser beams. Bee's can also smell fear. Giving bee Ortho this trait is like giving a toddler a glock and telling them to go do a crime. It is both horrifying and hilarious at the same time.

Robot Bee Boy.

BeeBot that makes cute noises when bumping into things.

So very cute. I don't have much to add to that except look at this cute bee butt.

Now...spooder Idia...

Did anyone else see Kar'niss from Baldr's Gate 3 and thought he was hella fine?

What kind of spider would he be? If he's one of the fluffy kinds I love the idea of his floof matching his hair. Would he have multiple eyes? Fangs on top of having those already pointy teethies?

Did you know an interesting thing that bee's and some spiders have in common his helping with pollinating plants?

Hmm drider's are usually big and people in general already don't like regular spiders very much. Poor Idia is just going to keep getting more reasons to not leave his room. 😔Oh Jeez Jamil would prob freak out seeing him.

Man, Idia and Azul have it bad. For females of both of their kind if they don't kill you after sex cuz doing the diddly works up an appetite, they might kill males that they simply rejected...or just because they got too close.

Another thing that both male octopuses and spiders have been shown to do to lower the risk is present their possible mate with food. Azul's an amazing cook with his own restaurant and Idia has a surplus of every kind of snack/junk food you can think of so at least they have that going.

Still, I would like to think that even if that happens with their kind in that world it's not nearly as bad or quite as common. Funny though to think of Idia screeching when he sees you and tossing a few bags of gummies and chips at you.

Also....to avoid getting eaten after sex some male spiders will actually tie the female up in his web and set her free after. Do with that info what you will.

Some spiders also do a mating dance, but you have a snowball's chance in hell of seeing him do that.

Still, it's just more things that get these types of nonhuman boys thinking that you the little would be the best choice when it comes to finding a mate. AMAB? Cool. AFAB? Well, human ones don't cannibalize so it's all good....well once the guys learned that they don't.

Plus, once he gets to actually know you and see how you're the least threatening thing in the school things will be easier.

Once he's comfortable around you get to see something amazing...

That he's a snarky little shit with so much sass. He's a weird combination of having issues with self-loathing while also having an ego.

One time you tried to bite him for mouthing off and he was legit scared for a sec but once he saw those little teeth of yours couldn't even make a scratch on the exoskeleton on his arm, he gets super freaking smug, and now he's even more of a shit when teasing you.

One of the cool things is that you can legit ride him places cuz he big spooder. It's too bad it rarely if ever happens with being a shut in.

He'll still let you sit on him like that when you guys are in his room.

A cool thing he can do is climb on walls and ceilings, does it often when trying to sneak to the vending machines on campus without being seen. He has unfortunately been seen once or twice though and it scared the hell out of the poor student to see a giant freaking spider on the ceiling and almost made Idia drop his snacks.

His webs are pretty and glowy, he kind of has them around his room set up like fairy light.

Weird fact, spiders can taste with their feet.

Cute fact, some spiders will keep a frog as a pet. Frog helps keep the spider's eggs from getting eaten and the spider protects the frog from other things.

I'm kind of picturing Idia as the spider and you as the frog. You are his emotional support human that he keeps close when he has to leave his lair.

He unintentionally gives you scary dog privileges.

Imagine working your shift at Twisted McDonald and a little human comes up to you with this big-ass sharp-toothed spider dude behind them, you are scared out of your mind but then the human says "Excuse me, he asked for no pickles."

#spiders #spider #bug #bugs #drider #bee #twst #nonhuman au #twisted wonderland #twst x reader #suggestive #asks #ask #idia shroud #twisted wonderland idia #twst idia #ortho shroud

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enkas-illusion · 5 months

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3, 2, 1… Blow The Candle

Fandom / Pairing: Jujutsu Kaisen / Geto Suguru x f!reader

Rating: NSFW/Explicit - MINORS DO NOT INTERACT

Genre/Theme: Established relationship; non-sorcery au

Content warning: fluff, eventual smut, oral (m.receiving), explicit sexual content, language, angst, sexually frustrated Geto.

Summary: What is the best birthday gift for Suguru, you ask? Riling him up till he reaches his breaking point before surprising him on his birthday with a gift he’ll never forget (aka, you give him the best head he’s ever received).

Author's Note: Hello, I was down bad for Suguru, wanting to give him the glock-glock 9000 and boom, this one-shot was born. I was too lazy to write the entire smut scene but let me know if you’d like a Part 2, I could use the extra motivation T.T

Thank you for reading!

~ Eren’s Birdie

Song Dedication: Religion by Lana Del Rey

Geto Suguru wasn't the kind to celebrate his birthdays with much enthusiasm — it's not that he hated them… he just couldn't care less about them. For him, it was just a reminder of another year passing. And although he never said it out loud for fear of sounding too cheesy, he cared more about the time he got to spend with his people.

So this year, you wanted to please your boyfriend in a way that he preferred, giving him a good time that would be hard to forget. You’d both taken leaves from work for tomorrow to get some alone time all day together before going out for dinner with friends.

With just a few hours till midnight, you were making mental notes of everything you had planned for tomorrow, ticking each item off your checklist. Last year, you’d gotten him an electric guitar, based on Satoru’s recommendation – which Suguru loved, of course, but he had joked that you could simply bake him a cake and he’d be the happiest man on earth.

Which was ironic coming from someone who’d constantly bombard you with flowers and presents for relationship milestones and celebrations that were days or even months away. Suguru was all for spoiling his girl but when it came to receiving, his love language was, more often than not, physical touch.

And that’s what you decide you’d do. Your plan was to make tonight extra special. So, while you had materialistic gifts lined up, you had other things in mind to please the birthday boy.

You’d asked a friend to bake a batch of hash brownies, paying extra for good quality stuff, since you knew that’s how Suguru liked it – he was the type to easily distinguish good quality weed from the subpar one.

You’d also ordered a custom made jersey of his favourite rugby team with his birth date ‘03’ on the back. Since Suguru can sniff out a surprise in an instant, you’d taken extra steps to get it delivered at Satoru’s address instead of yours.

On your way back from work in the evening, you’d received a call from your boyfriend, asking if you could bring take-out since he was too occupied with work to take on dinner duties tonight. You’d agreed, secretly cheering as it would be the perfect opportunity to make a few stops to pick up the brownies from your friend’s and the jersey from Satoru’s place.

When you arrive home to find him seated at the dining table, eyes fixed on the table, you almost fear that he’d gotten back earlier than expected.

“Baby, weren’t you working till late?” you question as you place the food parcel on the table before walking towards him to place a kiss on his temple. He brings his hand up to give you a side hug, not peeling his eyes off the screen.

“I am, I brought the work laptop home since I figured it’d take too long… would rather work here till late than at the office.”

“Will you be working late into the night?” you ask, feeling a bit disappointed.

“Oh no, I’d be done before midnight hopefully… I know your obsession with wanting to be the first to wish me.” he chuckles. You quickly make an excuse of freshening up to hide your handbag into the cupboard, before returning to the living room again for dinner.

When you’re done with dinner, he quickly gets back to typing away hastily on his laptop. You quietly make your way to the bedroom, locking it behind you. You take the jersey, the box of brownies and other gifts out of your fully stuffed handbag… thanking the heavens for the nth time that your boyfriend was too focused on work to notice anything odd.

After wrapping his gifts and stacking them away in the cupboard, you take your time to shower and shave for the special occasion. You put on a white, skimpy, lace lingerie that leaves barely anything to the imagination before wearing his rugby jersey on top. You twirl in front of the mirror, noting that the jersey nearly covers your ass but would ride up easily if you bent down.

Your heart beats faster as you place a pair of leather handcuffs in a red paper box with black ribbon, placing it next to the box of brownies on the bed. You knew things were going to get wild so you recall your safe word ‘monkey’ just in case, but don’t fixate on it much since you trusted your boyfriend to know just how much he can push you before it gets too much.

You had mentally prepared yourself for a sexually frustrated Suguru since you hadn’t allowed him to touch you for about 15 days now, which was the longest he’d gone without your touch ever since you started living together almost more than a year ago.

Usually you’d run to him to fuck you on your period since it always helped you with your cramps, but for the first week, it became an excuse to act cranky and bratty, which he took without complaining. You were aware that you probably shouldn’t press his buttons so much since his payback would be 10 times worse but you couldn’t help yourself since it was just so damn easy to rile him up. It revealed his animalistic side in bed, leaving no room for the gentle lover that he sometimes was, and you were a sucker for that.

You loved being ravaged by him because the aftercare was even better. Besides, it wasn’t easy for you either, to act so dumb and innocent in front of him while actively trying to seduce him throughout this whole week. You wanted nothing more than to jump his bones when he wasn’t even trying to seduce you. Your boyfriend was simply existing and it was enough to get you wet.

At the beginning of your relationship, he’d quickly realised you were on par with him when it came to being horny to the point of borderline sex addict. For a short time, he had your number saved as ‘my succubus <3’ briefly to tease how much you craved his touch all the damn time. It didn’t last for long however, since you made him change it back to your name when Satoru accidentally read it when you’d called Suguru’s phone and started calling you that out loud at insanely inappropriate times in public.

So imagine your boyfriend’s surprise and confusion when you, of all people, were asking for space because you ‘simply don’t feel like it.’ He respected your wishes, being a respectful gentleman, not wanting to overwhelm you.

Though you knew his patience was wearing thin and almost broke 3 days ago. You’d gotten out of the shower and dropped your towel to the ground as you paced around the room naked, taking longer than usual to decide what dress to put on, moving your hips seductively to The Weeknd’s more explicit and dirtier songs playing softly on your phone. He’d muttered a ‘for fuck’s sake’ before making his way to the bathroom for a quick shower, trying to calm himself down. He only stepped out of the bathroom when he was certain you’d left the house, a few moments after gently knocking on the bathroom door to inform him that you were leaving for work.

When Satoru had asked you why Suguru had been more irritated for the last two weeks, you told him about denying him sex to rile him up. Satoru chuckled, calling you devil incarnate… maybe so, but this devil was sure going to have the time of her life soon so it was a win-win for you.

As you spray on some perfume you know he loves, you hear his voice call out your name. You check the time and gasp – it’s 11:49PM. You place the red box on the bed for later, checking yourself out and fixing your hair one last time before opening the bedroom door.

“Baby, did you fall asleep?” Suguru speaks while sliding it into the bag and placing it on the coffee table. His back is turned to you so you think he doesn’t notice you tip-toeing into the living room.

“And here I was thinking you almost forgot it’s my birthd-” he abandons the joke, his words getting caught in his throat when his eyes land on you as he turns around.

“Hi,” you giggle sheepishly, suddenly conscious about the way his eyes roam over your body. But you snap out of it just as quickly.

Pull yourself together – you have a plan to execute, a mission to accomplish!

“Sugu, do you like your present? The jersey?” you ask, feigning innocence as you twirl in place. He’s checking you out shamelessly with a devilish look on his face, “Love it.”

“Hmm. Maybe you should put it on to see if it fits.” you reply as you seductively remove the top and toss it at him. He catches it, a cocky smile plastered on his face as he observes your antics in amusement – so this is what the forced abstinence was about.

“You’re right, we really should make sure it fits.” he peels off his own shirt before putting the jersey on in one swift motion.

“Perfect.” you smile at him as you walk to where he’s standing near the sofa, your hands landing on his chest as you caress the fabric gently to smoothen the crinkles.

You could melt under how intense his gaze feels. You bite your lip as you blush, hands moving up to rest on his shoulders. He gives your ass a firm squeeze before lightly spanking it, causing you to yelp in surprise as his arms snake around your waist, trapping you.

“Baby, you are in so much trouble tonight.” he brings his lips closer to your ear, biting your earlobe.

“I’m counting on it.” you giggle at the tingling sensation of his lips on your neck. You pull yourself out of his arms and he lets you, following behind when you guide him by his wrist to settle him on the sofa.

“Let me make it up to you, birthday boy,” you say, bending down in front of him, intertwining your fingers with his to pin them to his sides.

You kiss him softly and ever so slowly before letting it deepen. Even with you trying your best to not let him touch you just yet, you know it's a useless effort given that your strength is nothing compared to his. Suguru tightens his grip, fingers still tightly intertwined with yours as he moves your hands to your lower back to lock them there.

You try to wiggle your hands out of his hold and feel him letting go. You try to take back control but his rough grip on your hips indicates otherwise as he pulls your body onto his till you're straddling him.

You let out a groan as you put your hands on his chest and pull away to catch your breath, feeling his hard poke against your ass. Your hand reaches to your side to pull his wrist to your face as you check his watch, the screen lighting up just on time as 11:59PM turns to 12:00AM.

“Happy…” you give him a small peck on his forehead, “Birthday…” another one on the tip of his nose, “Babyyy.” last one landing on his lips.

He's smiling into the kiss as his grip relaxes a bit. You take the opportunity to slowly move down till you’re kneeling between his legs. You hastily unbutton his pants and he lifts his hips up to let you take them off completely.

Your hand strokes his dick as you lick the tip gently. You slide down his foreskin to reveal his wet tip, your mouth watering at the sight – Suguru might just have the prettiest dick you’ve ever seen.

“Missed this lil’ guy so much.” You tease and he lets out a snort, if there’s one thing that Suguru will never take an offence at is you joking about his dick, it simply doesn’t faze him – and why would it? He knows he’s big.

Your tongue rolls over his tip, causing him to sink down into the sofa, spreading his legs out further. You lick up the base before taking a few inches in your mouth as you hear your boyfriend let out a low groan.

He rests his head back as his eyes close, enjoying the way your tongue feels on his cock after so long. The peace doesn't last however, when his phone rings in the pocket of his pants.

Mouth still connected to him, you reach a hand down to where his pants are bundled up and pull out his phone to silence it, tossing it onto the sofa next to him. You look up at his face as your mouth moves up and down his length.

His phone rings again in a few seconds.

“For fucks sake…” he mutters as he looks at who's calling. You release his dick from your mouth, letting your hand take over.

“Who is it?” You ask, kissing at the base.

“Satoru.” he sighs, running his hands through his hair in frustration, “He's gonna keep calling till I answer.”

“It's okay, go ahead,” you assure him, your hands still.

He nods as he answers the call. But right as he's about to greet his best friend on the other end, you take him in your mouth, letting his tip hit the back of your throat slightly as you steady your hands on his thighs.

Suguru cusses out a loud ‘fuck’ as his hands move to your hair, gripping at your strands to steady your movements.

“Hello?” You can hear Satoru's confused tone.

“Sorry… I hit my… elbow.” Suguru speaks into the phone, almost mumbling the excuse, eyes closing as he tries to collect his thoughts.

“Happy birthdayyyyyy best frienddd!” You hear the blondie's sing-song squeal.

“Thank you Satoru.” Suguru says rather plainly, trying to sound as serious as he can. You’re determined to break him though, so you suck him the way only you know makes him lose his mind each time.

He moans as his hand wraps around your hair to take it in a makeshift ponytail. He yanks it… you know it's his way of asking you to behave.

“I was honestly gonna knock on your door with a cake at midnight… but my favourite bakery was closed since the owner's away… thankfully, she'll be here tomorrow so I'll see you in the morning with only the best cake ever! Soooo what were you up to?” you hear Satoru's rambling on the other end, loving that him being so talkative is wearing Suguru’s patience out.

Your hands move to massage his balls and the base of his cock while your head bops in a steady rhythm, earning a soft groan as he moves his phone away from his face, putting it on mute.

“Careful baby, this is your only warning.” he groans before unmuting. You release his dick with a pop.

Satoru is still going on when you hear him ask if he's the first to wish Suguru. Just as your boyfriend opens his mouth to speak, you lick at his sensitive tip, almost causing him to moan. He clears his throat to cover it up as he struggles to speak, “yeah… you are.”

“No way! So I beat your girl to it?!” Satoru rejoices.

“Yeah you did… She’s aslee- I’d hate to… wake her up… Bye.” Surugu cuts the call, not waiting for a reply. He tosses his phone to the side, eyes staring you down as you keep on blowing him.

“Baby, if you enjoy having your face stuffed so much…” his grip on your hair tightens while his other hand caresses your cheek briefly, deceitfully gentle, “... let me show you how it’s done.”

Before you can register his words, you feel his dick hit the back of your throat, tears instantly welling in your eyes. You choke, letting out a few muffled moans and whimpers as he face fucks you, taking back his control.

The intensity feels too much but not enough for you to bail just yet. For times like these, where you cannot speak, you had a safe gesture, tapping his ass thrice on repeat… he’d protested initially by suggesting you do something else but you’d justified it by saying this was the only action that would seem out of place. He has accepted by now that, when it comes to arguments, he can never really win against you. He gave in eventually, still confident you wouldn’t ever need to use it cause, “I’m sure you’ll take anything I give you like a good girl.” One would say he was being too cocky but his words were like holy scripture, you obeyed every single word.

Within minutes, he’s warning you that he’s about to cum, since he knows you’ve never really been a fan of swallowing. He’s about to pull out to cum on your tits but you swat his hand away, surprising him by sucking him even more fervently. Such a simple action is enough to make him lose his mind. He shoots his load into the back of your throat, warm liquid filling your mouth as you struggle to swallow it all.

When he pulls his cock out, a string of saliva connects it with your lips. You bring the back of your hand up to wipe your lips while he leans down to wipe your tears off your cheeks.

As he observes the black residue of mascara on his fingers, you grip his thighs for support as you stand up. He looks back at you, “God… I love you.”

“I love you too Suguru.” you smile at him as he digs his fingers into the flesh of your thighs, pulling you closer to kiss your abdomen. You giggle and run your fingers through his hair. He brings his arms up to secure them around your lower back before tackling you to the sofa in one quick motion, moving to position himself on top of you.

“SUGURU! I almost had a heart a-” he shuts up your complaint with a kiss and you let your words melt as you kiss him back, moaning at the way his hands rake whatever area of your skin they can find.

Your hands automatically move to his hair as he leaves hungry half kisses over your neck, making his way down to one of your breasts. He licks and bites the hard bud from over your bra, causing you to whimper at the touch. He repeats the action on your other nipple as wet patches form on the fabric.

Your breath hitches when you feel two fingers rub at your clothed pussy, already wet with your arousal.

“Wait… Sugu– please, wait.” you breathe out as he rubs your folds with more pressure.

“Baby, I don’t think I’ll be able to sleep without fucking you tonight.” he groans as his eyes find yours, his face contorted.

“Suguru, I’m not letting you sleep a wink tonight…” you reassure him, cupping his face in your hands to give him a quick peck, “... but please take me to the bedroom first, I might have another present or two for you.”

#erensbirdie #jjk x reader #jjk x you #jujutsukaisen x reader #geto x reader #jjk #jujutsu kaisen #geto smut #geto suguru #jjk geto

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multifandomimagin3s · 1 year

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Pornstar Dancing [Soap MacTavish x Reader]

Summary: Taskforce 141 are assigned an undercover mission - (R/N) has to use 'equipment' which the military didn't give her. Her friend, Johnny, likes what he sees...

A/N: I was sitting listening to 'Pornstar Dancing' - My Darkest Days, and an idea came into my head. Ngl, this is basically p*rn without a plot but hwg~ *Also peep the Supernatural reference hehe*

mature themes, smut, minors dni. reader is AFAB

This was without a doubt one of the craziest things you've ever had to do for a mission - and that was saying something. 'Crazy' comes with the job, being part of 141 was never going to be a walk in the park and you never expected any less.

When Laswell had given you your file for the mission, you let out a laugh, thinking that she was joking. Spoiler alert - she wasn't. Your role was to go undercover to spy on the target - a Kingpin, no less - at a club, distracting him and his cronies to buy the rest of the team enough time to disable the security, get into position, and capture him. Now you may be thinking, "that doesn't sound too bad." "Oh, what type of club?" you may ask. A Strip club. Yep, tonight, you had agreed to be a stripper. On stage. In front of hundreds of people. In front of a Kingpin. And, in front of your team-mates. And it was safe to say that you were absolutely shitting yourself at the prospect of it.

So here you were - clad in a royal blue bra, panties and garter belt littered with sparkly diamantes. To match, Laswell had given you a set of clear Pleasers, with blue glitter throughout the heels and platforms of the shoes. It had to be said, the outfit did look good on you, which gave you a bit more confidence. But felt naked - in the literal sense, and given the fact you couldn't carry weapons on you that weren't pocket-sized. Can't hide a glock in your bra.

As you fluffed up your hair, one of the managers came over to say that you were up next. You gave her a tight-lipped smile and a nod, as she ushered you over to the side of the stage, just hidden behind the curtains. As if she were psychic, she brought over a tray with a shot glass and a bottle of tequila perched on it," Here you go - calms the nerves."

You thanked her, throwing the shot back, cringing slightly at the cool, burning sensation. The DJ picked up his mic, voice thick with exaggerated enthusiasm as he gave your queue, "Alright everyone, please welcome to the stage 'Bella Donna.'!"

"Belladonna? Like, the pornstar?" Soap questioned, curious as to why, out of all the names that you could have picked out, you went for that one.

Ghost rolled his eyes," The poison - Deadly Nightshade is also called Belladonna." His tone was clipped. He was used to Johnny's antics by now, they'd been working together long enough. But it didn't mean that it didn't get on his nerves any less.

"Hm, clever," Soap nodded - your codename whilst on the battlefield was in fact 'Nightshade' - you were given that mantle before your transfer to the 141 taskforce, given your skills on the battlefield; deadly. The song began, booming through the speakers. Johnny's gaze shot over to the stage, his jaw dropped as you sashayed down the runway towards the pole," Steamin' bloody Jesus..."

Johnny's eyes raked over your form as you swung gracefully around the pole in time with the music - the song was actually one of his favourites. Speaking of favourites, the underwear set you had on was in his favourite colour; the longer he looked the more he could feel his cock twitch in his trousers, and if he didn't look away soon he'd end up with a problem. But he couldn't look away.

He struggled to suppress a groan as you hung upside down on the pole, clutching it between your thighs. When and where you learned how to pole dance, he had no idea - but holy shit, you were good. He had to bite down on the knuckles of his clenched fist, trying to wish his growing hard-on back down.

"Focus, Sergeant," Price spoke concisely through his ear piece - with a subtle hint of amusement behind his words. Everyone in the task force knew that Johnny had a thing for you - he was hardly subtle about it either but had yet to make a move. He was your friend - he thought you wouldn't see him any other way, and didn't want to ruin your friendship if you didn't return his feelings.

Johnny cleared his throat, trying to make his words not sound s as strained as he felt, " Sorry, Sir."

Ghost chuckled slightly, so quiet that the music completely drowned it out. Oh, he was absolutely going to take the piss out of him later.

The Kingpin stood from his seat as the song was coming to an end, coming to stand at the end of the stage. Playing along with the facade, you pressed your back against the cool metal of the pole, spreading your legs slightly as you dropped down into a sort-of squat. You inwardly cringed at his appearance - a sweaty, greasy-looking creep.

He placed a large stack of money at your feet, giving you a salacious wink," Give me a private dance, Sweetheart."

I'd rather dance on your head, you prick. "Of course," You gave him a smile, picking up the wad of cash before standing to full height, towering over him. As the target turned to his cronies, you looked to the back of the room, seeing Ghost give you a nod - good to go. Your eyes met Soap's as he fixed you with an expression that you hadn't seen before.

"Lead the way, hot stuff," The voice of the slimy kingpin cut through your daze, as he held out his hand to help you down the steps at the side of the stage. Oh, what a gentleman, you thought sarcastically, taking his hand. His cronies stayed behind, dispersing into the crowd to go and do as they pleased while their boss was 'occupied.' Perfect.

The situation escalated rapidly after that. As soon as you got the Kingpin into one of the private rooms, Ghost was already there, hiding in the dark corner. He pounced, quickly punched the target out before he could let out any sound of alarm, tying his arms behind his back and a cloth gag over his mouth," Good work, Sergeant."

You nodded, letting out a breath that you didn't know you were holding.

"Bravo 0-7 to Bravo 6 - target has been neutralised, over."

"This is Bravo 6 - good work, bring him out."

With apparent ease, Ghost lifted the unconscious male up, checking the coast was clear outside the room before dragging him to the fire escape. Pushing the door open revealed Gaz and Price, ready and waiting, as the target was hauled into the truck. The cool night air hit your exposed skin, your arms folding over your chest.

"Here you go, Darlin'," You jumped slightly, turning to see Johnny behind you, holding a bundle of your clothes out to you," As nice as you look, it's baltic oot there, you'll be freezin'."

You smiled slightly," Thank you, Soap -"

"Call me Johnny," He smiled slightly - his eyes wandered down to your chest briefly before quickly flicking back up to meet your eyes. There was a beat of silence, as that unreadable expression fell over his face once again, before he cleared his throat," Get yourself changed - I'll wait out here for you."

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

The mission was a complete success which meant the team was allowed to head back to base. Thank god, you thought. A hot shower, takeout and a decent night's sleep were definitely in order and they were going to the first order of business as soon as you got back. Or, well, that was the plan.

It was as if Johnny had read your mind, as he showed up at your door not even half an hour after having gotten through the front door, a plastic bag containing Chinese food in his hand. He smiled," Got the goods."

Shower forgotten, you let him into your room. You had actually just been unpacking your duffel bag when he knocked, random items scattered across your bed; Johnny clicked his tongue," Question?"

"Shoot."

"How the fuck did you walk in these?!" Johnny asked incredulously, turning to face you, your heels suspended on the end of his finger.

You laughed at his reaction, he always had a bit of a flare for the dramatics. "A bit of liquid courage helped - and no, they weren't comfortable."

"Ohh, drinking on the job? Bad girl." He winked with a smile, his pearl white teeth practically sparkling. Bad girl. His words caused a pool of heat to build in your lower stomach, a slight blush dusting your cheeks. There was no denying that he was an attractive guy, and he had a great personality - and maybe you did have a bit of a crush on him. A big crush. But you were friends, surely he wouldn't feel the same way?

"Okay - it was one shot of tequila," You rolled your eyes, trying to will the blood to dissipate from your rosy cheeks," The Manager must have noticed that I was nervous, she gave me it before I went on-stage."

Johnny's brows knitted together, as he placed the heels back onto the bed, coming to stand no more than two feet away from you," Nervous? You were amazing on that stage, didn't know you could move like that - that wasn't the tequila that did that, that was all you, Darlin'."

Darlin'. You looked to the floor, feeling your cheeks heat up at his praise. Johnny tilted your chin up with two fingers under your jaw," Hey, I mean it - you looked really good, hell you probably made a fortune into the bargain, putting the pros to shame."

His light-hearted tone always managed to make you laugh; you met his soft gaze as he smiled, letting out a chuckle. His pale blue eyes stared into yours, falling to your lips and back up again. The tension was rising, he shuffled closer. You bit your bottom lip, his thumb pressing on it gently to release it from your teeth. He swallowed - now who's the nervous one?

"I - I'm just going to come out and say this," Johnny looked into your eyes, gaze unwavering even with his hesitance," I like you...as more than just a friend - I've fancied you for ages, but I was too scared to tell you in case you didn't feel the same."

You were gobsmacked, which must have been evident on your face as he quickly continued without missing a beat. "I think you're beautiful and well, tonight... I couldn't take my eyes off of you, I wanted to be the only one to see you like that... and I know that makes me sound like a selfish prick but -"

You cut him off, connecting your lips in a soft kiss. He went rigid for a second, as if processing that this was actually happening, arms wrapping around your waist as he reciprocated the kiss. He pulled away slightly, nose touching yours; his eyes were closed, a smile slowly making its way onto his face. The corners of his eyes crinkled slightly with joy, as he pulled you into a deeper kiss. And another. And another.

Johnny unzipped your hoodie, you shrugged the material off your shoulders to the floor, arms wrapping around his neck. He groaned lowly as he noticed that you were still wearing the lingerie from before," You look so fucking sexy - in my favourite colour too, you're going to drive me crazy." His favourite colour is blue? Noted.

His large hands slid up your ribcage, firmly cupping your breasts through the cups of your bra. He hummed lowly, leaning down to press hot open-mouthed kisses across the expanse of your chest. You let out a soft gasp, as his kisses trailed up the side of your neck to your jaw, sucking lightly," The whole time you were on-stage, all I could think about was how much I wanted to fuck you."

You moaned lightly, as his hand wandered down to slip underneath the waistband of your sweatpants, rubbing over the front of your panties. Your knees buckled slightly, leaning further into him for support. He smirked, pressing his fingers directly onto your clit, your breath hitching at the contact. You cupped his bulge through his trousers causing him to grunt," Two can play at that game, Sergeant."

You dropped to your knees, unbuckling his belt, tugging his jeans and boxers down his legs; he stepped out of them, kicking them off to the side. He let out a hiss as your hand wrapped around his semi-hard length, stroking slowly from base to tip. You bit your lip to hide your smile, licking a bold stripe along the underside of his cock.

"You're really good at this." Johnny gathered your hair into a ponytail with one hand, the other cupping your cheek. You sucked the tip into your mouth, tongue circling the sensitive head, before taking his entire length down your throat. He groaned, eyes fluttering shut briefly. You repeated the action, before pulling away, pumping his length, laving your tongue over his balls," Fuck."

He gently tugged you off him, pulling you up into a sloppy kiss that was all tongues and teeth. He dipped down, briskly pulling you up into his arms, hands firmly grasping onto your ass. He walked you both backwards, turning to place on the edge of your bed; you quickly pushed all the items littered across your bedspread to the floor, you'd deal with the mess later. Johnny draped himself over you, pulling your sweatpants down your legs and over your feet, tossing them to the floor - revealing the matching panties and garter belt. He groaned lowly. "Fuckin' hell."

Johnny leaned down, pressing kisses down the column of your throat, between your breasts, down your navel to the band of your panties. You moved to peel them off, but his hand gently grabbed your wrist," Keep them on - want to fuck you in them." He grinned, ripping his shirt over his head, throwing it away to the corner of the room. Johnny dipped down, hands rubbing over the insides of your thighs; he had spent so many nights dreaming of being in this exact position, fucking into his clenched fist, imagining it was your pussy. He pulled the cloth of your thong to the side, humming as he blew cold air across your wet folds.

"Stop teasing me, Johnny," You whined, nails scratching across his scalp. The sound of his name - not his call-sign - coming from your lips in such a sinful way made his cock twitch. He placed his hot mouth over your clit, closing his eyes as his tongue swirled in small circles around the bundle of nerves.

You let out a moan, throwing your head back against the sheets. You bit your bottom lip as his hands secured over the front of your thighs, pulling you closer to his face. He pulled away slightly, fingers rubbing over your folds before he sank his index finger into your pussy. His middle finger joined soon after as he kitten licked your clit, fingers curling to hit your g-spot.

"Johnny," You cried out, writhing in pleasure, making his free arm fold around your hips as he held you in place. He groaned, turning his head to suck a hickey into the soft skin of your inner thigh." Feels so good - want you to fuck me so hard," You cooed as this thumb rubbed circles over your sensitive clit.

He pulled away, hands spreading your thighs," Such a pretty pussy." crawling over you body to kiss you hard, teasing your folds with his hard cock.

You let out a gasp as he slowly sank himself inside you, inch by inch. "Wanted to do this for so long." He kissed you deeply, groaning as you took his bottom lip between your teeth and pulled lightly. Your mouth fell open, crying out as he began with slow, deep thrusts.

Your brows knitted together as his length pressed into your g-spot. "Right there, yeah?" He asked in a slightly teasing tone, hand coming to wrap around the front of your throat, grasping gently. He thrusted into the same spot again, humming when you let out a squeal at the stimulation. He gave a heavier thrust, swallowing your moans with a kiss.

" Harder - fuck me harder," You stared into his eyes, challenging him. He quirked a brow, pulling your legs up to rest over his shoulders, palms pressing your knees down towards your chest. The change of angle allowed him to reach deeper than before, as he rammed into you, groaning as your walls squeezed tightly around him. Your hand covered your mouth in an attempt to suppress your moans, mindful that you two weren't the only ones on base.

Johnny peeled your hand away, linking your fingers together with a grin," Let them hear, Gorgeous - fuck - let them hear how good I'm making you feel." Your eyes rolled back as you felt yourself nearing your climax, reaching between your legs with your free hand to rub your clit in time with his thrusts.

"Fuckin' hell," Johnny slowed his thrusts as he felt your walls clenched around him as you came, arms wrapping around the back of his neck. He groaned into the crook of your neck; you thought he was about to cum but he didn't. He gave you a languid kiss, before slowly pulling out of you," Want you to ride me."

His hands came to rest on your hips, pulling you up with him as he laid on his back. You blushed slightly as you swung a leg over his waist, reaching down to guide his tip through your folds, sinking down on him slowly. Johnny grinned up at you as you swivelled your hips, his cock digging into your g-spot. "Shit," You cried, placing your palms on his chest as you began to thrust down onto him. He bit his lip with a smirk, hands smoothing down to grasp your ass as he watched your tits bounce. You leaned down, pressing your lips to his in a heated kiss; he thrusted up into you, smiling as you moaned into his mouth.

"Cum for me, gorgeous," Johnny's length twitched inside of you as you tried to meet his thrusts," Come on, make me cum." He cooed, groaning as he felt your walls tighten around him, your hips stalling against his. His arms wound around you tightly as he came, hugging you to his chest.

You lifted your hips off him, rolling to lay beside him as you both panted, trying to catch your breath. You turned your head, meeting his adoring gaze with a smile, turning to cuddle into his side. He pressed a kiss to your forehead, arm wrapping around your form, holding you to him.

"So...I take it you fancy me too then, Darlin'?"

#soap mactavish #soap mactavish x reader #call of duty #cod #multifandomimagin3s

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aquidragon · 1 year

Note

heya! could I request a comfort blurb for re4 remake Leon after he has a raccoon city related nightmare?

of course!! sorry that this took a while, I had to get back into the swing of things lol

---

re4 Leon S Kennedy x reader

[drabble]

Normally you wouldn’t care for the concerns of your fellow squad members, agent Leon S. Kennedy especially. Not that you had anything against him, of course, but you found that meddling in the emotions of others led to disaster when they inevitably got mauled by some abomination Umbrella creation. So in the end, it was better to keep it impersonal. You assumed most of your fellow agents had similar insights, especially after the deaths of multiple of your former friends and comrades.

You sat alone, your glock-17 dismantled, as you gently cleaned it. Your nose wrinkled in disgust as you scrubbed off built up gunpowder and dried blood off the muzzle. All you had to focus on was the gentle hum of the airplane’s engine, and Ashley’s soft snoring. You were somewhat impressed that she was able to sleep after the actual nightmare that she had experienced, but you figured that she hadn’t slept in the days that she was trapped with Ganados.

Leon, her rescuer, was also asleep. He chose to sit in the seat across from yours, you weren’t “friends”, but you accepted that he was a good ally to have within Strategic Command. His ash blonde hair fell across his closed eyes, his head was slightly tipped forward as his broad chest rose and fell as he slept. You also noted that his facial features were slightly angular, and the dim lighting of the cabin emphasized the shadows of his face.

You put your gun back together with subtle clicks, it came mindlessly to you.You had been sent to pick up Leon and Ashley after their original extractment was shot down. There was no action you had to deal with, which meant an easy paycheck. As you slid in the empty magazine back, you heard the slightest whimper from the man across from you.

You froze, eyes flickering up to the blonde a foot away. His fingers twitched around the armrests, his eyebrows furrowed as his face pinched with distress. A few, almost decipherable words escaped his lips with a frantic whisper, as he began to trash in his seat. Had Leon been bitten? Was he still infected with Las Plagas? Your brain spun with confusion as you frantically considered your options.

Finally, his cobalt eyes shot open, and instantly met yours. He was breathless, his grip taught against the wooden armrests, as he began to reconnect with his sense of reality. Your heart fluttered with an uneasy feeling as the image of his fearful gaze locked deep within your very core. It scared you, almost, to see a seasoned agent with prey-like eyes.

“Sorry,” he cleared his throat, “I had a nightmare.” He averted his gaze.

You stumbled over your words, as you swallowed deeply. “No it’s fine, I get them too.”

Leon laughed humorlessly, clasping his hands together and looking down at his dirty knuckles. “I guess it comes with the job.” He cocked his head to the side slightly, to look out the small oval window. The ocean stretched for miles below, a dark, murky blue for as far as the eye could see.

“Do you want to talk about it?” You offered, anxiously rubbing your thumbs together.

The blonde agent made a noncommittal grunt, resting his forehead on the plexiglass with a dull thump. “You can probably read about it in my file.” He mumbled, exhaustion evident in his voice.

You snorted, a small smile poked at your cheeks. You were fully aware that your co-worker had the same perspective on “friendships with coworkers” that you had. If anything, he was more familiar with the concept than you were. He had joined STRATCOM a couple years before you had joined. In fact, he had been there long enough to become the president’s “golden boy”.

Leon S Kennedy was good at his job.

In this line of work, you knew that being good at your job meant witnessing the gruesome deaths of your fellow agents. A violent, disturbing ordeal that forced the best agents to suppress the parts of them that made them weaker. Typically, that meant vulnerability.

You sighed, finally stilling your rubbing hands as the walls around you began to crumble. “I used to get nightmares after my first mission. I couldn’t sleep for like, two weeks.” You almost chuckled at the memory. “It was pretty ass, I lived off of caffeine and adrenaline.”

The man scoffed, amused. “I remember that, that was just before the mission to Chicago, right?”

You nodded, as vivid memories of your first few days on the field flashed through your mind. The scent of rotting flesh, the screams of survivors, gunshots, more screams, infants wailing, and the chilling sound of cracking bone. Noises that you had grown familiar with, but not comfortable. Never comfortable.

“You’ve heard of Raccoon City?” Leon asked suddenly, his gaze locked somewhere in the distance.

“Yeah, we got a crash course on it during rookie training.” You answered.

“I was there in 1998. I was only twenty-one, my first day as an RPD officer.” He turned away at the window to glance at you, but his eyes still held a distant fog. “It was gruesome, I was just a kid. I had witnessed more carnage and suffering than anyone should ever see in their lives.” His lips twitched into a humorless smirk. “Honestly, I didn’t even want to become a STRATCOM agent, it wasn’t exactly in my five year plan.” Leon paused, “didn’t get much of a choice, though.”

You frowned, a slight jab of empathy poked at your heartstrings. You had heard the whispers around the office, about agent Kennedy and his connections with Raccoon City. You hadn’t paid much attention to gossip around the building, mostly since you figured it wasn’t your business. Hesitantly, you reached out to rest a hand on his firm shoulder, gently brushing your thumb against his black shirt.

There was no need for words, you understood how he felt. Albeit, you didn’t get dragged into the agency to fight against Umbrella. You had signed up for it yourself, fully aware of the job you were getting yourself into. Leon, however, didn’t have that choice. For that reason, your heart ached for him.

He looked up at you with wide, surprised eyes, before relaxing his shoulders underneath your warm palm. “Thank you.” The agent smiled at you, a genuine, affectionate smile that you had never dreamed of gracing Leon’s pink lips.

You felt your cheeks flush, you returned his expression. “Anytime, Leon.”

---

#leon s kennedy #leon kennedy x reader #leon s kennedy x reader #resident evil 4 #resident evil #leon kennedy #re4make #re4 leon

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milkywaydrabbles · 8 months

Note

anything nsfw (or sfw idm) with mikey and a taller reader? or any other tr boys? no sub!reader please

A/N: I hope this is what you were looking for! I did both SFW and NSFW it was v fun. However if you'd like a m!reader or gn!/reader please let me know! I'll also do it for any other requested TR boy ty mwuah

Mikey x Tall!Reader

Lord the way Mikey would have had her head if they didn’t grow up together. She was always a cocky little shit on being taller than him--and seeing eye to eye with Draken. She’d been friends with him, Shinichiro and Emma your whole life. She used to be so small and shy and cute--what happened?

It felt like from one day to the next she grew in her own skin, having an awkward growth spurt as a teen and looking like a newborn giraffe learning how to walk for the first time. Always nervous to talk to boys and girls--the boys would look at her like some kind of freak, and the girls would simply make fun of her for her height. ‘How will you ever get a boyfriend if you’re so tall?’

Mikey was always there for her afterwards, make sure she knew that he still liked her a lot even if she was taller than him.

And then the years passed, and Mikey changed, and she changed too. Except now, Mikey was the leader of Bonten, one of the most dangerous gangs in the country and she was, well, a new executive climbing the ranks. No longer the shy, scared little girl, she was just as ruthless as the rest of them.

And all the while, by Mikey’s side no matter what. She was cocky, but respectful in front of the rest of them. Honestly the rest of the execs just thought you were a childhood friend and nothing more--much like Sanzu.

But what they didn’t know was that she’d joke and prod at Mikey behind closed doors. He was a ruthless leader, but with her he’d turn back into a kid, scowling at the way she’d hold things over his head (literally!).

“I can fire you.” He’d start. “I can fucking kill you. You know that right?” throwing daggers her way when he scowls, arms crossed. She’d simply snort and say “You could. But then you’d be bored when you’re alone wouldn’t you?” She’s right.

Imagine the shock of the rest of the execs when Mikey ‘accidentally’ drops the ball during an interrogation mission. Rats were found smuggling drugs out from underneath them to make a quick buck and Mikey was personally there, front and center to get info. Of course, he wasn’t the one doing the torture, he’s too good for that. She stood behind him with a stone cold face, that could bring most of the men in the room to their knees. But the assholes who were caught kept egging her on like she couldn’t hold her own. Like a woman shouldn’t be in the ranks at all.

“You’ll do well to not insult my girl like that.” It didn’t go unnoticed, Sanzu and Rindou glancing at each other for a moment but thinking nothing of it--you were an executive, he could just be talking like you were his in the same way the rest of the execs were under his command.

They kept sneering, until they realized she was the one doing the torture and not the usual suspect of Sanzu. It was gruesome and honestly one of the worst cases of torture they’d seen, but all the information was extracted. Which means she turned into their executioner, pulling a glock out from its holster underneath your shirt and putting a bullet between their eyes. The silence was deafening, only Mikey laughing to himself and raising her hand to his lips with a quiet ‘that’s my girl’ and a kiss to the back of her hand.

The next meeting the execs had (that Mikey wasn’t a part of) turned into a madhouse.

NSFW:

Mikey was always one to want to stay in control, but he had his work cut out with her. She was so good at keeping him underneath her, practically whimpering at the way she would tease his cock with her fingers, with her mouth, with her pussy.

“You’re such a good boy, Mikey.” She’d coo, fingers slowly wrapping around his erection and pumping at a snail’s pace; teasing. “Coming home to me after such a busy day.” She leaned down and gave the head of his dick a kiss, holding his hips down so he can’t buck them up into her face. “Are you going to let me take care of you, baby boy?” He nodded, breath shaky as he exhaled, “Y-yes, please.”

She used her height to her advantage, push up bras and plunging necklines her best friend to tease him even in the office. She just had to lean only a little bit, pretending to lean down and read whatever it was he had in his hands before Mikey was panting like a dog begging her to let him fuck.

She’d sit down on his desk, short skirt and pumps that made her legs look even longer, spreading her legs ever so slightly so he could see the pretty lacy panties she’d been wearing. Mikey would get on his knees ready to eat that pretty pussy, only for her heel pressed against his chest to stop him (and he was still so far away, fucking long legs). You know that one scene of Wolf of Wall Street? Very much that.

Whenever they fuck she’s very much on top, bouncing on his lap for her pleasure only. And if he cums before she’s ready to stop? Well Mikey better get used to overstimulation quickly, she’s not done yet.

#mikey x reader #mikey sano #manjiro sano #sano majiro x reader #sano manjiro #sano mikey x reader #tokyo revengers x reader #sano mikey #manjiro sano x reader #bonten #bonten x reader #milk writes #Tokyo revengers #tokyorev

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taki-yaki · 2 months

Note

prompt: Tav with a gun lol. Let’s say Tav got abducted from a sci-fi world, like from another sci-fi video game, which solves the ammo issue. Or she’s an artificer class from somewhere out there in wildspace, so she makes her own ammo and steampunk weapons. Whatever you choose.

Either way, Astarion is very interested in her weapons.

Making me think of all those glock mods for BG3 but I agree that Astarion would be 100% interested in an artificer artillerist Tav. Also with artificers usually focusing on intelligence, he would be interested in that compared to Gale.

Artificer Tav (or Glock Tav)

Astarion had never met an artificer such as you before. Sure he may have heard of some gnome who were artificers, but they usually specialised in either alchemy or armoury.

He never took much interest in them anyway, besides all they would talk about is how their creations were made for non-destructive uses.

However, upon seeing your destructive artillery focus, it quickly gains his interest.

Someone who is intelligent and approves of using destructive force, rather than giving dull lectures about the meticulous details of the weave the magic as a whole, sounds like a LOT of fun to him.

Of course, the first thing he’d ask of you is to have a go at your eldritch cannon, but soon has to be confiscated from him, due to his recklessness with it.

Instead, he’d try to give suggestions on how to improve your weaponry, “Maybe if you add a lick of poison to your bullets for an extra sting” “What do you mean it’ll cost too much?”.

Whilst tinkering with making small gadgets in your free time, he would observe you from afar, watching your hands skillfully craft each one. You would quickly pick up on this, by offering him to watch you work up close instead.

The tinkering side of your nature would lead to some problems in camp though, with collecting any pieces of scrap metal found on your adventures, old rusted cutlery? They can be repurposed into so many things. This would lead to an intervention at camp with the amount of ‘junk’ you have collected in such as short time.

Eventually, you would start creating small utilities to use in camp, such as a portable shower kit to compact carrying containers.

When you go to fight Cazador, the situation quickly turns into bringing a knife to a gunfight, however in this case you’re adequately equipped and prepared to fight him.

Obviously, you would defeat him, Buffy the Vampire Slayer style, “No weapon forged can stop me”, “That was then” pulling out your modified eldritch cannon and taking aim at Cazador, “This is now”, promptly launching him off the ritual platform.

After the tadpole is gone, you promise to make him a device that will allow him to walk in the sun once again. Stating that he’s better off trying science if all means of magic and gods have failed him so far. Naturally, it takes quite a few attempts to create a working solution, but once you do, he is forever grateful for your help and will go about boasting about how smart his partner is compared to the magic shows that wizards present.

#astarion x tav #astarion x reader #astarion headcanons #baldur's gate 3 #bg3 #made this one a little short and silly #when I got this prompt the buffy the vampire slayer scene was the first thing that came to my mind tbh

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wrenreid · 10 months

Text

Off Limits

contains: sexual intercourse

Part Twenty-Six

Being left in bed naked and alone was not exactly how I pictured my first time to end, but I know it wasn’t personal. He left because he had to. Because my father might take his glock out and act irrationally if he sees his favorite agent with his only daughter. I’m not saying he’d actually shoot Spencer, but he might scare the piss out of him.

My father gets home just as I slip back into bed dressed in pjs. He doesn’t say goodnight because it’s late, and I’m sure he assumes I’m asleep.

I would be asleep. Should be. But I can’t even think to rest my eyes. I’m not one to think that first kisses and first times are that big of deal. It’s not like having sex is a life altering event. And I most definitely do not feel like a whole new person.

Books and movies make it seem like a huge deal. But it’s really not. However, I do think this will change our relationship a bit. Hopefully bring us closer. Honestly, I’m really not sure what will change between us.

I do know one thing. I’m officially his girlfriend. He’s officially my boyfriend. We’re official. Which feels good. After years of crushing on him and months of sneaking around and having fun with him, we’re finally together.

I know I said fuck it if she’s off limits, but goddamn do I feel guilty. I hate feeling guilty. I’m sick of it actually. No one should feel guilty about dating anyone. But I can’t help it. It’s wired into my subconscious.

Jade is finally my girlfriend. We had a great night together. I should be happy. Well, I am happy but I’m also feeling guilty and a little dumb.

Of course I didn’t have sex with her just to spite her father, but he did have something to do with it. They all did. They pushed me a little too far and I finally caved in to what I’ve been resisting. But I wanted it, I’ve wanted it for a while, so it’s not like their teasing was my only reason for sleeping with her.

Just as I’m about to text her the next morning, I get a call from Hotch saying we need to go to Quantico for another case. I was hoping to see Jade today since we didn’t get to talk after we had sex. But I guess that’s out the window. I grab my pre-packed go bag after getting dressed then head to work.

(skipping time because goddamn i am bored with this story… sorry)

The sneaking around that once stressed the hell out of me has kind of become fun. I mean there’s a type of thrill that comes with dating your boss’s “off limits” daughter.

Jade and I have had a fun few weeks. We’ve connected more, spent as much time together as we can, and have honestly had a lot of sex.

We’re both still getting used to our new relationship, but we’re in it together.

I spend the night with Spencer as often as I can without my dad getting suspicious. He thinks I’m either with a friend, at a party, or whatever other minuscule lie I tell him.

The lying and sneaking around is fun. I’m finally getting the experience I never had in high school. I would obviously love if I could date Spencer and not have to lie about it, but the secrecy of it all is thrilling.

It makes the sex just hotter.

After having sex on the couch, then moving it to his bedroom for more space, Spencer and I lay on the mattress together. Our hands intertwine, fiddling with our fingers.

“Want to know something a little ironic?” I ask him as his thumb rubs across the back of my hand.

Spencer shifts a bit to face me. “What’s that?”

“In 7th grade health class, us girls were all given purity rings, misogynistic, I know. I think I still have mine.”

“Give it to me.” As he says this, something in his face changes.

“What?” I question, a slight chuckle releasing from my lips.

“It’s technically mine now. It only seems accurate and fair for me to have it.”

I laugh a little once again, my cheeks burning pinker than they ever have. He’s dead serious. Something about the look in his dark eyes makes me want to go for round two right now.

I think he has the same idea. Spencer leans in, his lips kissing mine. I kiss him back immediately, my tongue sliding in his mouth. As we kiss, his hand slides down my body and he slips a finger between my folds to touch my already sensitive clit.

“You’re still wet,” he says. “Good girl.”

I moan into his mouth, moving my hips back and forth as I ride his fingers. His lips find their place on his neck and tits, sucking on the places he’s already left his mark on. It stings a little, but the pain feels good.

“God, Spencer,” I whine as he sinks his teeth into my flesh, not enough to damage my skin but enough to hurt a bit.

I beg him to touch me harder and faster, and he obliges, fingering me as I moan into his ears.

After a minute, I’m so needy that I take matters into my own hands. I sit up then place myself onto his lap, guiding his dick inside me with my hand. I roll my hips back and forth, watching his face as I ride him.

“Holy fuck,” he whines. “You’re so hot, baby.”

The way his length hits inside me as I bounce on him has me louder than I’ve ever been. He lifts one of his hands up to quiet me so his neighbors don’t hear. I personally, don’t care if they hear us. I want them to know how good he feels and wish they could feel this way.

He releases his hand after a while, holding my hips and occasionally slapping my ass while I ride him. He bucks his hips upward to meet mine, making his dick hit inside me harder.

“Fuck,” I moan, dragging out the word.

He’s moaning louder than usual too. My hands that were scratching down his chest land on his throat, choking him.

“Is this okay?” I ask.

He’s done it to me before but I haven’t done it to him while we’ve fucked.

“Very,” he nods.

As I finish, I bite into his shoulder, quieting my moan of his name. He finishes not long after me.

The next morning, Jade comes into the bullpen, she’s walking toward me. everyone’s looking. My face is red already, and she hasn’t done anything. I have no idea what she’s doing.

“My dad told me to give this to you,” she says, handing me an envelope. She smiles sweetly then turns toward the elevators.

She was bringing her father lunch and was in his office for a bit, eating with him as he worked.

I let out a soft, relieved breath. I open the letter. There’s a paper, and written on it in neat handwriting is “I think this belongs to you.” Taped to the paper is a small, silver ring with the word “promise” on it. I’m definitely blushing hard and trying to suppress a smile.

“You getting fired, reid?” Morgan teases.

“Totally,” I joke casually, my mind far away from Morgan’s question.

I slip the ring in my pocket before folding up the note and safely putting it away in my desk.

I think that little word engraved on the inside of the ring has a new meaning now.

tags: @pauline5525mgg @theintimatewriter @lilibet261 @greysviolets @jazzymariexoxoc @one-sweet-gubler @thatsonezesty13 @necromaniackat @awhoreforspencerreid @sebs-oxygen @scarredelirium @bts-sugaplum @awesomeness1679 @preciousbabypeter @yazzyu @cynbx @r3idsp3ncer @1010lizz @tiredbut-here @skulzombiw @lena-1895 @eevee0722 @shakespear-picaso-lovechild @daydreamingqueen1 @regulus-black-223048 @virginmusicloverr36 @jazzerbelle14 @kylakins88 @f-me-reid @lovejules888 @marimorena06 @daph-421 @idkusername8787

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