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ellemj · 4 months

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Candy Cane: 12 Days of Smut #4

Bucky Barnes x Reader One-Shot

Warnings: profanity, stuck in an elevator, mentions of death, teasing, oral sex (male receiving), face fucking, MINORS DNI, 18+!!!

Feel free to comment and let me know if this requires any other warnings.

Word Count: 3.4k

A/N: I usually hate everything I write but this sure felt like some good shit while I was writing it. Hopefully it feels the same for whoever may read it. Thank you sooo much to @mashedpotatooooos for this beyond perfect prompt, as soon as she submitted it to me I was SCREAMING. So creative, so inspirational, thank you for feeding me with this brilliant idea.

A fucking candy cane. A fucking peppermint treat from the 1840s. That’s what’s going to be the Winter Soldier’s undoing? No. Really, it’s you. It’s the way you’re sucking on the damn thing. The way you’re wrapping your lips around it so sensually, savoring the taste with an innocent little gleam in your eye. That’s what’s going to kill him. He’s had enough.

The sound of a chair scraping along the hard floor breaks you out of your trance. Pulling your half-finished candy cane out of your mouth, you lift your gaze and look across the room to see Bucky silently disappearing down the hallway. God, he’s moody today.

“I bet that’s why they called him the Winter Soldier.” Sam scoffs. You raise an eyebrow at him as you resume your work on the candy cane. “Because his mood is always so damn icy.”

“That’s cute.” You say, refusing to dignify his bad joke with a laugh, although you have to admit, it was kind of funny. He’s right though, Bucky’s been a little extra moody this week. You’re not really surprised that he’d be someone who hates Christmas, it’s very on brand for him. It’s only three days away now and he hasn’t said a thing about it. The rest of you have been watching Christmas movies, having hot cocoa way too often, and at the very least pretending to be festive most days. But Bucky’s been staying in his room excessively more and frowning enough to end up on Santa’s naughty list. Something’s up with him. You’d have already asked what was wrong with him if you weren’t so annoyed at his inability to spit it out unprompted. The man is over a hundred years old but still has the communication skills of a teenager.

Only a few hours later, Bucky’s just finished up taking his frustrations out in the gym when you’re coming back from a run to the grocery store. You needed a few ingredients for the Christmas cookies you plan on baking tomorrow and there’s no better time to hit the grocery store than at night. Of course, just as you’re coming inside the tower, you see the elevator doors sliding shut. You rush forward, throwing your hand out to hold the elevator. Bucky lets out an audible sigh when he sees you step into the small space. He thinks about darting back out before the doors close both of you in, but he knows he’d have to explain himself if he did something that childish. So, he remains.

Bucky keeps his gaze trained on the screen above the doors, watching as it slowly counts each floor that you’re carried past. You, on the other hand, keep your eyes trained on him. He’s clearly just come from the gym, as evidenced by his dark athletic shorts and sweaty t-shirt. He doesn’t wear short sleeves often, so you take the rare moment to steal a look at his black and gold arm. That’s when he finally decides to give you a sideways glance. You’re just about to break the unusual silence by saying whatever pops into your mind first when the sound of grinding metal fills the air. You don’t even have a moment to brace yourself before the elevator practically skids to a screeching halt and throws you and your bag of Christmas ingredients sideways into one of the walls. You closed your eyes on impact, and when you blink them open again, you’re thrust into darkness. The power must’ve gone out. After just a couple of seconds, the very dim emergency lights kick on and you straighten yourself up, stepping away from the wall and trying to fully comprehend the situation that you’re in. Bucky’s analyzing you as you stand there, staring straight ahead in thought. You don’t look to be injured or very frightened that you’re trapped in such a small space, so he feels it’s safe to say that you’re not claustrophobic.

“The button to call the fire department isn’t even lighting up.” You say quietly, more to yourself than to the super soldier who stands a foot to your right. That means you’ll have to try your phones, and if those don’t work then you’ll be trapped in here until someone realizes that you and Bucky have been missing for too long.

“I’ll call Sam.” Bucky fishes his phone out of the waistband of his shorts and quickly types in his passcode, easily finding Sam’s contact since it’s one of the very few that he has saved. He’s just about to hit the button to put the call through when he notices the top of his phone displays a “no signal” alert. Shit. “No service.”

“Of course, no fire department and no phone service.” There’s a hint of nervousness creeping into your voice but you try your best to tamp it down. “W-what floor were we on before it stopped?” You know Bucky was watching the floor counter.

“Fourteen.” Suddenly, you can picture the elevator plummeting all the way down to the ground floor, killing you both on impact. However, the more rational side of your brain reminds you that elevators have emergency braking systems specifically designed to keep something like that from happening. You inhale a shaky breath and try to come up with at least a semblance of a plan in your mind, something to keep you from thinking too much about how you’re trapped so high above the ground in a little metal box. Bucky watches you closely as you move to sit on the floor, letting your back rest against the back wall and drawing your knees up to your chest. You begin rummaging through your little grocery bag and when your hand wraps around what you were searching for, you pull it out and begin opening the small package. Even in the dim light, Bucky can tell exactly what it is. Fucking candy canes.

“Do you want one?” You hold one out to Bucky but he gives you an almost displeased look as he shakes his head, staring down at the candy cane in your hand with disdain. So, not only does Bucky Barnes hate Christmas, but he even hates the most basic Christmas candy. You almost laugh to yourself at how ridiculous he is. He’s turning out to be an actual scrooge.

“Fine, more for me.” You unwrap the candy cane and lift it to your mouth, beginning to suck on the straight end of it. You’re not paying Bucky any attention now, so you don’t notice the way his jaw clenches and he averts his gaze as soon as the candy hits your tongue. He remains standing but leans back against the elevator wall, hoping the cold metal against his sweaty t-shirt might have the same effect as a cold shower.

It doesn’t.

Two minutes later, you’re still quietly working on your candy cane while Bucky has gone absolutely rigid. He has the back of his head pressed against the wall now and he stares up at the ceiling actually wishing that the emergency brakes would fail and the elevator would go crashing down to put him out of his misery. Why does it take you so long to eat those damn things? And how the hell do you not realize what you’re doing? Are you that naïve?

“Are you okay, Bucky?” Your voice is the last thing he wants to hear. He doesn’t even make a move to look down at you, because the fact that you’re already on the floor at the level of his dick and the fact that he knows what you look like when you’re sucking on something you really like will only make this situation that much worse. His cock is already fully erect in his thin athletic shorts, painfully so. The only reason you haven’t noticed yet is because you’ve been distracting yourself with your little snack and because Bucky’s shorts are so dark.

“Fine.” He croaks the single syllable out in just the right way to let you know that he is in fact, not fine.

“Okay, what is it?” You demand to know. Did Tony skimp on having emergency brakes installed and Bucky knows your death is imminent? Is the big scary man secretly afraid of heights or small spaces? “What the hell is wrong with you?”

“I said I’m fine.” Bucky repeats the words through clenched teeth. Who would’ve known that such a private man would be such a bad liar? You push yourself up off the floor now and stand to your feet, turning to face him head-on. You’re just about to threaten to stab him with your little candy cane remnant when your eyes land on what it is that’s got him so worked up. The bulge in the front of his shorts is on full display, pulling the seams of the fabric so tight that you imagine Bucky’s incredibly uncomfortable right now. But…why would he be so turned on in such a shitty situation? Is it the fear? The adrenaline?

“Bucky—”

“Stop fucking talking.” He cuts you off sharply, finally snapping his eyes open and meeting your gaze. Even in the dim lighting, you can see the frustration painted over his features.

“No, tell me what’s up with you.”

“We’re stuck in an elevator.” He says plainly, closing his eyes once more. He really does suck at communicating. Obviously, you can see that he’s aroused. He knows that you can see it, but he’s still standing here in front of you pretending like he isn’t. As you stare at the stubborn ass that you’ve just barely come to know over the past year, all you can think about is getting on your knees and sucking the bad attitude right out of him. Maybe that’s what he needs. He clearly needs something. However, the fact that he won’t simply speak his mind and instead chooses to act like a moody fifteen-year-old most of the time still irks you. You want him to open his damn mouth and speak.

“Look at me.” Your voice is so calm and even that Bucky immediately wonders what you’re up to, but he doesn’t open his eyes. You take two steps so you’re standing right in front of him, and then you repeat yourself. “Bucky, look at me.”

“What part of stop fucking talking doesn’t make sense to you?” He snaps, opening his eyes. When his gaze meets your face, he’s met with the sight of you, dragging your tongue along the side of that damn candy cane and he nearly cums right there. He’s thankful that you can’t have possibly seen the way his cock practically jumped in his shorts when his eyes landed on your tongue.

“It’s the part where you think you can mope around here constantly and treat people like shit that doesn’t make sense to me.” You suckle on the end of your candy cane for a short second before pulling it back out of your mouth and adding one bold part to your little tiff. “It’s also the fact that you’re standing here with a hard dick while simultaneously acting like you can’t stand me. That really doesn’t make sense to me.”

Bucky lets out a sound of annoyance at the way you’re matching his attitude. He’s especially annoyed that you actually mentioned his dick, but he’s a lot more focused on fighting the urge to reach out and snap your precious candy cane into a thousand tiny pieces. You see the way his eyes keep flitting to your mouth as you enjoy your candy. Honestly, once you see the look in his eyes and pair that with the huge tent in his shorts, you don’t know how you didn’t put it together before. Maybe it’s because you fear you could die in this elevator, or maybe it’s because you’ve always sort of wanted to know what it’d be like to have such a strong effect on a man like Bucky, but an idea pops into your head that you just can’t seem to shake. You want to make him tell you what he wants. You want to force him to communicate with you, and then you want to reward him with everything he needs. Besides just being an irresistibly hot idea, it’s also a sure way to keep you from thinking about the elevator plunging into the basement at any given moment. You both need this.

That’s what leads you to sink down to your knees at Bucky’s feet. He thinks he’s hallucinating at first, but when he hears your light little laugh as you pop the candy cane back into your mouth, he knows it’s real. Your pretty eyes stare right back up at him as you slowly pull the candy cane out of your mouth, keeping your lips pressed tightly around it.

“Fuck…” Bucky mutters, screwing his eyes shut tightly as he feels a fresh wave of heat rush through his body. You haven’t even touched him yet he feels like he could have an orgasm on the spot. “Don’t do that.”

“Why not? You don’t like this?” You tease. You push the candy cane past your lips once more but he’s refusing to look down at you, so you take matters into your own hands. You hold the candy cane with your left hand while your right hand lands lighly on Bucky’s thigh, dangerously close to where he needs your touch the most. He inhales sharply and snaps his head forward to look down at you again. “Tell me what you need and I’ll give it to you.”

“I need you to stop with the candy canes.” He says harshly, giving you an icy stare. You laugh, but you can’t deny that he actually communicated something. So, you remove your hand from his thigh and fix the wrapper around your candy cane as good as you can before leaning over to drop it back in your grocery bag.

“Was that so hard?” You ask, returning to your position on your knees at his feet. He lets out an exasperated sigh, wondering why the hell you’re not getting back up.

“Are you going to stay down there until the elevator starts up again?” He narrows his eyes at you. You shrug your shoulders.

“Until the elevator starts up again or until you tell me what you really need, whichever comes first I guess.”

“I told you already.”

“Right, but that wasn’t all you needed.” You point out. He watches as your eyes leave his face and coast down his neck and torso, until your gaze lands on the taut fabric of his shorts. You’re perfectly eye level with his hard-on and it’s not making this situation any easier on him. He feels his cock twitch again from the way you’re looking at him. He weighs his options in his head. How bad would it be for him to cross this line? To tell you how badly he needs you to suck his cock the way you’ve been sucking those candy canes the last couple of days? It couldn’t possibly be that bad if you’re already on your knees offering it. If anything, he can at least feel better knowing you crossed a line first. Besides, what if you two never make it out of here? He knows you will, people get stuck in elevators all the time and you rarely hear about it killing people. But, what if? He can’t deny himself this potentially one, final pleasure.

So, Bucky learns to communicate.

“Fix the problem you created.” Bucky’s stare is cold and calloused, but the way his chest rises and falls at a quickened pace and the way his pupils dilate as he looks down at you makes you feel powerful. You test the waters, sliding your palms from his knees up his thighs and then curling your fingertips beneath the waistband of both his shorts and boxers. He remains focused on you, not giving you indication that he wants you to stop. So, you tug his shorts and boxers down until his cock springs free, nearly slapping against his lower stomach as your drop his shorts to his feet. Your eyes are glued to his impressive length, taking in the way precum is beginning to drip down his shaft and the way his balls look so full and heavy between his legs. He’s growing impatient, wondering if you plan to sit there and stare at it or do what you really want to do to it. He’s just about to showcase his impatience with you when you reach up and wrap your right hand firmly around his cock, holding it with just the right amount of grip as you give it one long stroke from the base to the tip. You tighten your fist around the head and let his precum lubricate your palm before stroking back down to the base and spreading the wetness around his shaft. The way his head falls back against the wall makes you feel high. You like having this kind of power over him. You wonder how much more power you might have if you used your mouth, but why wonder? Leaning forward, you continue stroking his cock with your right hand while you plant your left hand on his thigh and press your lips to the tip.

“Shit.” The curse falls from his lips so freely that you can’t stop yourself. The next thing you know, his cock is sliding past your lips and the tip is brushing against the back of your throat as you nearly fully deepthroat his entire length. You only have an inch left to go but you aren’t sure you can fit it all. Bucky looks down and sees your hesitation. He knows he should’ve restrained himself. He knows he should’ve let you take this at your own pace, but he needed it. He needed to feel your throat tighten around his cock. He needed to see how fucking pretty you’d look with every inch of him in your mouth. So, Bucky gently placed his right hand on the back of your head and applied a little pressure. Just enough pressure to make you swallow the rest of his cock. As soon as he felt your nose brushing against his skin, he pulled you back by your hair. His eyes roam over your face now, checking in to see if you’re okay. Your eyes are wide but your pupils are blown with lust. Not only are you okay, but you’re on cloud fucking nine. With the tip of his cock still in your mouth, you nod up at him, letting him know it’s okay to do it again.

Bucky guides his cock into your mouth again, pulling your head closer and closer to him until he feels your throat tighten as you gag around his length. When he tries to pull you away this time, you grip both of his thighs and stare up at him so hungrily that he groans at the sight. You don’t want him to go easy on you, you want him to take what he needs. It’s only a second later that Bucky puts both of his hands on your head and holds you firmly in place as he begins thrusting his cock into your mouth. He’s slow and careful at first, trying not to give you more than you can handle. But the first time you moan around his shaft, slow and careful goes out the window. He fucks your throat, letting his balls rap against your chin with every deep thrust. The obscene sounds and the way you fight to maintain eye contact with him sends him straight to the edge of his release so much sooner than he expected.

“I’m gonna cum.” He rasps, praying that you won’t want him to pull out. Although, he could easily picture himself cumming all over your pretty face. Your only response is to grip onto his thighs even tighter while you look up at him so submissively. That’s all it takes. Bucky gives your mouth one more thrust and then holds your head in place, with your lips wrapped tightly around the base of his cock. You feel every drop of cum as it trickles onto your tongue and down your throat. After a few more seconds, Bucky releases your head and watches as you sit back on your knees, swallowing everything that he gave you. When you lick your lips he swears he could go for round two already.

“That was so much better than a candy cane, Bucky.”

TAG LIST: @gyokujyn @mrsjoequinn @thealloveru2 @nixxaswrld @ordelixx @sweettae02 @frombkjar @hellfirebabe @edelweissbarnes @claireelizabeth85 @fandomsfeminismandme @sunnyhummingbee @jenniferpendragon @siciliano13 @crist1216 @wlkdead

#bucky barnes #bucky barnes fic #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes fanfiction #mcu #bucky barnes smut #bucky barnes x you #marvel #the winter soldier #winter soldier #12 days of smut

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incognit0slut · 4 months

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Better for you

Spencer spends the change of year with a new resolution as he starts looking at his rival differently.

(THIS CAN BE READ AS A STANDALONE BUT IS TECHNICALLY A THIRD PART FOR LOSE CONTROL AND THE LAST LAUGH)

words: 4.6k Category: fluff (surprisingly this is not my usual NSFW work) warnings: kissing, suggestive content a/n: I’m killing two birds with one stone here. One, I caved in and did another part for this rival couple. And two, I wrote this as a participation in @imagining-in-the-margins office party writing challenge🥳 Here are the prompts: 1. The team hardly believes it when Character A agrees to dance with B. 2. “I just never saw you as a... party type of person."

WAS A PARTY SUPPOSED TO BE THIS BORING? A subtle sigh escaped her lips as she glanced around the backyard. When Rossi invited the team to gather around at his house in celebration of the new year, everybody was on board.

"Who would say no to a David Rossi party?" JJ had said, which led her to bring her family along the occasion. Even Simmons brought his wife and five little kids. And now Rossi’s place never looked so alive with this many people, it seemed that everyone was present at this joyful soirée.

Everyone but one person, that is.

She turned her attention back to the drink in her hand, leaning against the open bar Rossi had set up, her mind drifting towards a certain man. It wasn't like she was keeping tabs on him. Really, she wasn't. It just happened that his absence became surprisingly noticeable when he decided to take some time off work to visit his mom, even days before Christmas break.

How long had it been since the last time she saw him? Two weeks? Three? It seemed like a considerable amount of time had passed since she saw was forced to work with him, which happened during the case in a remote town. And despite successfully apprehending the Unsub days later, her resistance to temptation, unfortunately, wasn't as successful.

It was hard not to think of what happened during the travel when it kept playing in her mind like a broken record. It was as if the memories were engraved in her brain—his slick, sweaty body pressing against hers; his soft lips caressing her skin; his large hands roaming her curves, traveling to places that had her hot and wet—

What the hell was wrong with her?

She took a sip of her drink—or more like chugging it down—trying to test if the burning sensation could wash away her filthy mind.

"Whoa," a sudden voice broke through her haze and she looked up to find Luke standing close to her. "Easy there."

His easygoing grin met her gaze as he gestured toward her almost empty glass. She shrugged, aiming the glass toward him in a mock toast. "Just trying to enjoy the party."

"Yeah?" He chuckled, leaning against the bar.

She shot him a sideways glance. "What's it to you, Alvez?"

His grin widened. "Well, when someone's drinking like they're on a mission, it catches my attention. Everything okay?"

She hesitated for a moment before responding, her tone calm. "I'm just getting into the party spirit, you know?"

Luke raised an eyebrow, his playful demeanor unwavering. "Is that so? Or are you trying to drown out some thoughts?"

She scoffed. "Thoughts? What thoughts?"

"The kind that makes you chug down your drink."

"You're imagining things. I'm simply enjoying this..." Her eyes scanned the party, trying to find a word describing the ongoing festive. "...ambiance."

"Alone by the table full of alcohol?"

"Well, someone's got to keep an eye on these drinks from disappearing too quickly."

"Hmm," He responded. "It kind of seems like you're waiting for someone to join the party."

Her cheeks warmed slightly, and she scoffed again. "I know who you're referring to, and no, I am not waiting for anyone."

He leaned in, the mischief in his eyes unwavering. "So, you're telling me that if Reid walked in right now, you wouldn't do a happy dance?"

"Please, there would be no happy dance," she said, rolling her eyes. "Just a casual acknowledgment, maybe."

"Casual acknowledgment? You're going with that?" His grin widened, his teasing persistence unyielding. "There's nothing casual about you two."

"If you mean hating each other's gut, then sure, there is nothing casual about Reid and me."

"He doesn't hate you, you know." She gave him a deadpanned look, her skepticism evident in her arched brow. Luke laughed. "Fine, he disliked the idea of having another prodigy on the team. When he got out of prison, he felt like you were his replacement."

She frowned. "I kind of was. Emily wanted someone to fill in for his absence while he was away."

Luke raised an eyebrow, his expression turning thoughtful. "True, but I think you're starting to grow on him." She shook her head, trying to brush off the comment. "I'm serious, I think you made an impression."

Her skepticism lingered as she fully turned towards him, pointing a finger at him. "So you’re telling me every time he tried to pick a fight he was actually impressed by my intelligence?"

"Well, Reid's got this... unique way of expressing himself, but trust me, he respects you."

She raised an eyebrow. "Now you're just pushing it."

"There's got to be something more than what you're letting on. He's not exactly subtle, you know."

She leaned back slightly, trying to maintain composure. "You're reading too much into it. Reid and I have..." a complicated dynamic between coworkers who hate each other but had sex twice—well, three, including that one time in the shower. "...a professional relationship," she decided to say.

His grin widened. "Professional? I've seen the way you two spar during cases."

She huffed. "It's just our way of solving problems. It doesn't mean anything more."

Luke's expression turned thoughtful. "I've worked with him for a while, and he usually doesn't go back and forth with people in smart talk. There must be something about you that intrigues him."

"Or irritates him," she added dryly. "You're giving him too much credit."

"Maybe," he admitted with a laugh. "But I don’t know, he might surprise you one of these days."

She shot him a skeptical glance. "I highly doubt that."

"Yeah?" He suddenly looked past her, a sly grin forming. "Then maybe should find out for yourself."

Confused, she turned around to see what had caught his attention…. And time seemed to slow as her eyes widened in surprise when she spotted Spencer entering the party, a casual smile on his face as he greeted everyone. For a moment, their eyes locked, and despite her attempts to remain nonchalant, a subtle flutter danced in her chest.

She quickly looked away, her attempt to maintain composure falling apart.

"See what I mean?" Luke's voice broke through her thoughts.

She rolled her eyes, trying to deflect. "It's just a party, people look at each other. There's nothing special."

He raised an eyebrow and responded with a hint of sarcasm. “Sure."

"I'm serious. Stop reading into it."

"Alright, I won't."

That only annoyed her even more. She took a deep breath, attempting to regain control of the situation. "You're insufferable."

"What? I believe you," he replied. "I mean, nothing could've happened between two people who were locked together and then forced to share a room, right?"

She shot him a glare, but before she could say anything, she felt a presence coming up behind her. A sudden chill ran down her spine as she caught a whiff of scent she was accustomed to by now, something woody and fresh with a subtle hint of sweetness.

"Reid," Luke greeted as he gave her a side glance before moving towards Spencer, casually dropping an arm around his shoulders. "It's good to see you. How's your mom?"

Spencer's eyes met hers briefly before responding to Luke, "She's doing well, thanks."

“Good to hear.” Luke nodded his head towards her. "Y/n here was just telling me how much she missed you during the holidays."

Suppressing a groan, she shot him a warning look. Spencer, however, responded with a small smile. "You did?"

Her cheeks warmed slightly, caught off guard by his direct question. She feigned nonchalance, offering a casual shrug. "Please, I was just mourning the lack of someone to challenge my wisdom."

Luke chuckled and gave her one last pointed look before excusing himself with a pretense of Rossi calling him somewhere from the crowd. Her eyes narrowed on his back as he walked away, shaking her head in disbelief. "That man coming close to being second place on my hate list."

"I take it I'm still on your number one spot then."

She turned towards him at the sound of his voice, and now that they were alone, she finally took her time to observe him.

Her eyes scanned his clothes, taking in the details. From the carefully styled hair that hinted at the time he took to prepare, to the open dress shirt that he seemed unbothered to button all the way, exposing his long neck and the slight expanse of his chest. He looked good. He looked clean, polished, and undeniably handsome.

She blinked and cleared her throat, attempting to regain composure. "Well, you certainly took your time getting ready."

He met her gaze with a hint of amusement in his eyes, seemingly aware of her scrutinizing observation. "I believe in making a good impression," he replied, a subtle smile on his lips.

She arched an eyebrow, resisting the urge to acknowledge the effect his appearance had on her. "Trying to win over the crowd with something beyond your brain?"

"Partly," he admitted, "And partly because someone once told me that a well-dressed genius is a force to be reckoned with."

"Must have been Garcia."

He grinned. "You know her well."

She took another sip of her drink, a blend of sweet and bitter notes dancing on her tongue. Keeping her eyes on him over the rim of her glass, she observed the play of shadows on his face, accentuating the angles of his features. The ambient light from the party cast a subtle glow, and she couldn't help but notice how it highlighted the soft strands of hair that fell gracefully across his forehead.

"I'm actually surprised to see you here," she slowly remarked, her voice laced with curiosity.

"Surprised? Should I be offended?"

"I just never saw you as a... party type of person."

"I'm not," he agreed. "The only exception of social gathering I can endure is with everyone present here."

"Including me?"

“Especially you."

Her demeanor faltered for a split second, caught off guard by the unexpected turn in his tone. It wasn't the usual witty remark she anticipated. A flicker of surprise crossed her features before she could conceal it, her throat clearing as she attempted to regain control over her beating heart.

"Especially… me?" she echoed, attempting to mask the surprise in her voice.

Spencer's gaze held a warmth that felt unfamiliar, and he nodded. "It seems social events are more bearable when you're around."

She tilted her head and studied him. "You're just saying that because you have someone to pick a fight with."

"A fight?" He wondered. "Is that what we've been doing?"

"It's what we've always been doing."

"Not for the past few weeks, we haven't."

She knew what he was referring to. Not wanting to give him the satisfaction of indulging in a conversation about their sexual escapades, she instead responded with, "Well, you haven't, I'm still trying to play my part here."

He chuckled softly, the sound resonating in the quiet space between them. "And what part would that be?"

"The one where I constantly question the liability of your knowledge, of course."

Spencer's smile widened, the lines of his face softening. "Maybe," he began, his voice low, "We can explore different roles that don't involve any fighting."

She raised an eyebrow. "Are you suggesting a truce, Dr. Reid?"

"More like a change of tactics, Dr. L/n," he replied, gently taking the glass from her hand and placing it by the bar.

Her frown deepened, uncertainty in her eyes. "What are you doing?"

He nodded toward the center of the backyard where most of their team members filled the space of the party. "Dance with me."

She gazed towards the dance floor, then back at him, and her brows furrowed. That did not sound like the Spencer she knew, heck, she wasn't sure she had ever seen him dance before. Her eyes narrowed further when he gave her a grin.

"Come on, it's just a dance. It won't kill you," he urged, extending a hand towards her.

She eyed his outstretched hand with mock skepticism. "Are you implying that dancing with you is some kind of survival?"

Spencer grinned. "Considering the number of times you've survived my intellect, this should be a walk in the park."

She rolled her eyes. "Intellect, yes. Dancing? I'll take my chances."

"Are you afraid you'll step on my toes?" he teased.

"More like I'm afraid you'll step on mine," she shot back.

Spencer chuckled. "Just one dance, and if you don't enjoy it, you can revert to questioning the liability of my knowledge."

Her eyes drifted between his outstretched hand and his gaze, a silent contemplation unfolding within her. She knew that if she agreed to this, there was no turning back. Was it a wise decision? Probably not. But a small, rebellious part of her was curious to see how the night would unfold.

Spencer watched her with a patient expression, his hand still extended. The music continued to play, a steady beat that seemed to echo the pulse of the night, and after a moment's hesitation, she sighed in mock exasperation.

"Fine," she said, finally placing her hand in his, "But I reserve the right to make sarcastic remarks about your dance moves later."

"Deal," he agreed, leading her onto the dance floor with a grin.

She could feel everyone's scrutiny on them as he pulled her onto the dance floor, her breath hitching when he grabbed her other hand and placed her arms around his neck before snaking his arms around her waist.

"Everyone's watching us, aren't they?" she asked as they started to move to the soft beat of the music.

Spencer's gaze held a mischievous glint as he twirled her around, navigating the dance floor with surprising grace. "Let them watch," he replied, his voice low, sending a shiver down her spine. "It's just a dance, after all."

"You don't strike me as the 'just a dance' kind of person." She arched an eyebrow, unable to shake off the sense that there was more to this move than met the eye. "You don't even strike me as someone who even knows how to dance."

He shrugged. "Dancing is easy. All you have to do is move in circles and hold on to your partner."

He proved his point by pulling her further into his arms, and she couldn't help but notice the contrast in their heights. His broad chest pressed against her, the softness of his abdomen against her stomach, while his arms securely wrapped around her body.

Her breath caught for a moment, her gaze instinctively locking with his. The initial awkwardness transformed into a surprising ease, and she reciprocated the movements with a newfound confidence. The subtle sways and turns took on a rhythm of their own, syncing perfectly with the music that enveloped them.

"See?" he whispered, the warmth of his breath sending a shiver down her spine. "Easy."

They continued to move to the rhythm, and she couldn't help but notice the intensity in his gaze. The world around them seemed to blur, and for a moment, she actually enjoyed being held close to him.

But before she could fully relax in his arms, JJ appeared on the dance floor, hand in hand with her husband Will. The look of disbelief in their friend's eyes was unmistakable as the couple approached them while being tangled in their own dance.

"Are my eyes deceiving me," JJ teased, a playful smile dancing on her lips. "Or are you two getting along quite well?"

She rolled her eyes, attempting to maintain a casual facade. "It's just a dance. Don't read too much into it."

JJ's grin widened as she exchanged a knowing look with Will. "I didn't think I'd see the day when you and Reid would willingly share the dance floor."

She shot a glance at Spencer, and there was a momentary flicker of something in his eyes—was it surprise? amusement? She couldn't quite place it. Collecting herself, she responded with a mock grimace, "He forced me into it."

Spencer's expression turned playful. "I have a way of convincing people to do things they didn't know they wanted to do."

"You mean manipulate."

He chuckled. "Persuade, Y/n. It's all about perspective."

From the corner of her eyes, she saw JJ and Will exchanging another pointed look. "Either way, you both look like you're having a good time."

"And you both look good together," Will added.

"Thank you."

"We're not together."

They both looked at each other while JJ raised an eyebrow, her grin widening. "Yet here you are. Spence, you might have just discovered a hidden talent—getting Y/n to dance."

She let out a sigh. "Don't encourage him."

Spencer leaned in, his tone low. "You're just mad because you're enjoying this."

She narrowed her eyes. "Let's not get carried away."

"Come on, just admit it," The corners of his lips lifted in a playful smirk. "You're having more fun than you expected."

"Fun?" She scoffed, attempting to deflect the growing warmth in her cheeks. "I wouldn't call this fun. It's just an unfortunate consequence of being at a party."

"Yet you can't deny that you're not entirely opposed to the idea."

She shot him a glare. "You're dangerously close to overestimating your influence."

"Or maybe you're underestimating your willingness to enjoy the moment."

She shook her head, turning towards JJ. "Can you believe him—"

She stopped when she realized they had been left alone for a while, noticing JJ and Will were already at the other side of the dance floor. However as her eyes scanned around them, the scrutiny of the others didn't go unnoticed by her. She fixed her gaze back on Spencer.

"We must be such a sight to see," she remarked. "I bet they're starting some rumors about us."

He raised his eyebrows. "You think they haven't already?"

She sighed, acknowledging his words. "Fair point."

"What do you think they're saying about us?"

She considered for a moment. "That we secretly don't hate each other," she responded after contemplating her answer. "I think they might be disappointed when they realize the truth."

His arms instinctively tightened around her waist. "And what's the truth?"

She studied him, her heart suddenly beating fast. Weeks ago, she would have answered the question with certainty, stating that they were nothing more than coworkers who were both very stubborn. But as she felt his eyes watching her intently, she wasn't so sure anymore.

"The truth?" she echoed, her voice a little softer than she intended. "I don't know, Reid. What is our truth?"

He held her gaze, and for a moment, she was hypnotized by the look in his eyes. "Well, the part where we secretly don't hate each other is true, for me at least."

Her breath caught as she absorbed his words.

“…you don't hate me?"

"Hate is a very strong word." Spencer leaned in, his breath warm against her ear. "Hate is often fueled by fear or misunderstanding. It's a complex emotion rooted in our perceptions and experiences. So, in a way, hate is a reflection of the mind rather than a true evaluation of a person."

She couldn't help but let out a disbelieving laugh. "Did you just use psychology to explain why you don't hate me?"

"Considering our line of work, it seemed appropriate."

She shook her head in amusement. "Only you would analyze hate in the middle of a dance."

Spencer continued, "Well, understanding emotions is crucial in our field. And I believe there's more to us than mere hostility."

She pursed her lips together, her mind suddenly going through the times they often bickered. "I still find it hard to believe you didn't hate me the first time we met."

"Dislike would be a better way to put it. But I was at my lowest point at that time. It wasn't just you, I was angry at everyone. At the circumstances. At myself." He slightly leaned back and sighed. "And I admit, it was wrong of me to take it out on you."

Then after a moment of silence, he whispered, "I'm sorry."

She felt the warmth of his embrace, the steady rhythm of his heartbeat against hers. The apology hung in the air and she found herself at a loss for words. For a fleeting moment, the walls she had built seemed to crumble, leaving her standing on the precipice of something unfamiliar.

She took a deep breath, her voice barely above a whisper, "And how do you see me now?"

Spencer's gaze held a thoughtful intensity as he considered her question. "I think you're someone who challenges me. There's a depth to you beyond the harsh glare and cold shoulder." He eased, pressing a hand on her lower back. "And, if I may say, someone who looks surprisingly stunning on the dance floor."

A blush crept over her cheeks, and she narrowed her eyes, wondering if he had another motive behind the compliment. "You're using flattery now? Are you trying to get in my pants again?"

He laughed. "Is it working?"

She rolled her eyes, suppressing a smile. "Nice try, Reid. Flattery might get you far, but not that far."

His grin widened, and he guided her through the dance floor with ease. "Well, I'll have to come up with better tactics then."

His touch, gentle and deliberate, sent a shiver down her spine as his thumb traced an almost hypnotic pattern on the small of her back through the fabric of her dress. The soft caress felt both intimate and tender, catching her off guard. "I mean it though," he said, his voice a soft murmur that resonated with honesty. "You do look beautiful tonight."

There was something in his gaze that was unfamiliar, even hearing him easily compliment her was foreign in her ears. Her confusion must have been evident on her face because he smiled at her. "What?"

She shook her head, dismissing her thoughts. "Nothing. It's just... unexpected, coming from you."

He chuckled, the sound vibrating against her as they moved in sync with the music. "It's part of my New Year's resolution."

"What? To be nicer?" She guessed. "Be a better person?"

"To be a better person for you," he corrected.

Her heartbeat picked up, and she found herself drawing closer to him, the music weaving a subtle spell around them. The warmth radiating from him, the soft glow of the string lights, and the gentle melody created an intimate atmosphere that blurred the lines between the hostility she often wore.

The distance between them diminished, and she felt the subtle shift in the air. Without registering what she was doing, her fingers came up behind his neck, softly playing with the strands of his hair. They were so soft, just like the look reflected in his eyes. Then her gaze went down to his lips; they too looked incredibly soft.

"Stop looking at me like that."

Her eyes snapped to his. "Like what?"

"Like you want to close the distance between us," he whispered, his voice a low murmur that sent a shiver down her spine. "Because I'm trying to restrain myself from doing just that."

His fingers found the small of her back, pressing gently, while hers continued their silent dance in his hair. Every touch, every movement, fueled the escalating heat between them. His proximity was intoxicating, and the magnetic pull between them was undeniable. The distance diminished further until she could feel his breath, warm and inviting, grazing against her lips.

But before she could indulge herself, Garcia's voice echoed somewhere in the crowd. "It's the final countdown, people!"

Suddenly becoming aware of their surroundings, she released her arms from around his neck and shifted her gaze elsewhere. Her eyes landed on the projector screen, previously used by the kids for a movie marathon and now it displayed the vibrant scenes of people joyously ringing in the New Year celebration.

As the digital numbers on the screen ticked down, the energy in the backyard intensified. The countdown became a collective heartbeat, a shared anticipation that echoed through the crowd.

"Ten! Nine! Eight!"

In those final moments, she stole a glance at Spencer, their eyes locking silently.

"Seven! Six! Five!"

But his stare became so intense that she quickly looked away.

"Four! Three! Two! One! Happy New Year!"

The cheers erupted, and the backyard was bathed in the glow of fireworks, the sky above adorned with bursts of color. She watched the dazzling display in awe, the explosions of light reflecting in her eyes.

Amidst the celebratory chaos, she noticed her friends wrapped in the arms of their loved ones, celebrating happily. JJ and Will shared a sweet kiss, Simmons was embraced by his family, Penelope and Luke exchanged laughter, and even Rossi, with a subtle smile, clinked glasses with Emily and Tara.

And as the colorful explosions painted the night sky, she felt a lingering gaze on her. Turning, she found Spencer watching her intently. His eyes were searching hers as if he were asking for permission to close the short distance separating them.

She knew what he meant. It was beyond asking permission to kiss her. It was a gentle plea to understand the unspoken boundaries that lingered between them. Engaging in intimacy behind closed doors was one thing, but to take that step in front of their peers meant exposing a vulnerability she had carefully guarded. Did she want to cross that line?

A part of her wavered, finding herself drawn to him—his warm brown eyes, his smile, everything about him seemed to call out to a part of her that she had kept guarded. The barriers she had meticulously built started to feel like fragile walls as everything around them started to fade, leaving only the soft glow of string lights and the distant echoes of laughter.

Oh, fuck it.

Feeling the pull of an undeniable force, she took a step closer with a small, bashful smile playing on her lips. It was all the answer he needed. Closing the distance between them, he framed her face with his large hands, his warm touch sending a shiver down her spine. Surrounded by the cheers of the crowd and the vibrant display of fireworks overhead, he finally leaned down, gently brushing his lips against hers.

Warmth spread through her body as he held her, his touch gentle yet possessive. He tipped her jaw, allowing his mouth to move along with hers. His tongue easily slipped into her as he continued to taste the subtle hint of liquor she had been drinking. Spencer was never one to drink, but he didn't mind tasting it on her. If anything, he couldn't get enough.

Her arms instinctively traveled underneath his suit jacket, seeking more of his warmth as she wrapped them around his waist. The fabric of his suit was smooth under her fingertips, and the heat of his body radiated through the layers of clothing.

The kiss deepened as he continued to explore her mouth, growing more intense with each passing second, and it wasn't until they heard someone through their haze calling out, "There are kids here!" that he finally pulled away.

He laughed, a soft, genuine sound and she couldn't help but join in. He then rested his forehead against hers, their breaths mingling in the small space that separated them. The lingering taste of their kiss hung in the air, and for a moment, they simply stood there. The reality of the situation slowly sank in, and they exchanged a glance filled with a mix of surprise and amusement.

"I guess we got carried away," he mumbled.

"You think?" She chuckled, her fingers playing with the lapels of his suit jacket. "We should keep it PG-13 for now."

His fingers gently traced the curve of her cheek. "Does that mean we can go R-rated later?"

She let out a laugh, throwing her head back in mirth. "You're relentless."

He smiled, savoring the moment of ease between them, and he found himself captivated by the genuine joy she radiated. His gaze traveled around the backyard and noticed everyone watching them with amused grins. He leaned down and pulled her flush against him. "Everyone's watching us."

She groaned and hid her face in the crook of his neck. "I can already imagine their teasing."

There was a moment of silence before he responded, "I think it's worth it."

"What is?" she mumbled into his neck.

He pulled away and looked down at her. In a tender gesture, he brushed a strand of hair away from her face, his touch lingering for a moment longer than necessary. "I can handle the constant teasing if it means I get to hold you like this."

The corners of her lips curled into a soft smile. "You're willing to endure their teasing just to hold me?"

His gaze met hers, unwavering. "More than willing."

Her gaze softened as she looked at him. She couldn't believe how this night had turned out, yet, here they were—wrapped up in a dance of their own. It was a position she would've never imagined herself in. And despite her best efforts to resist, the walls she had meticulously built were crumbling.

"Can I kiss you again?" He whispered. "I promise I'll make it family-friendly."

The corners of her lips curled as she laughed. The unexpected turn of events had brought them to a place she never anticipated, but surprisingly, it felt oddly right.

"I suppose one more won't hurt."

His smile widened, and with a hint of mischief in his eyes, he leaned in, capturing her lips in a tender kiss. "Happy New Year," he whispered against her lips.

She found herself smiling, realizing that perhaps, unexpected as it was, this change of year wasn't so bad. She closed her eyes, savoring the moment, and wondered where her life would take her this year. The path ahead seemed unclear, but one thing was certain—Spencer Reid had managed to find his way into her heart.

a/n: if you’ve followed the story since lose control, this is the ending for this short series. As much as I wanted to write smut again for the last part, the fluff was calling out to me :3

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primofate · 3 months

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Scara who has been taken cared of by Nahida, meets girl who he falls in love with. You know the whole "I don't need anyone" turning into "Yeah maybe I deserve this" but slowly.

"It'll be fun!" is what Nahida always told Hat Guy, whenever Holi came around.

It's that festival where people threw coloured powder at each other, if you were unfortunate enough, you might get coloured water thrown on you instead.

Scaramouche hated it.

Every year, he disappeared on the colourful day.

"Oh, there you are, I thought I might find you here," Scaramouche holds back a sigh at your voice coming from behind him. Somehow you had the knack of knowing where he was hiding.

The Aranara hovering around him scattered.

In some ways Scaramouche had found a sort of peace in Sumeru.

Something that he once didn't have.

In the few years that he had stayed here, under Nahida's care, his thoughts about "eternity"--thoughts that things should remain the same, should remain constant, that people should remain as they are--had shifted and turned into an understanding that change...is most definitely inevitable. Especially when knowledge was so abundant everywhere.

"What is it now?" He drawled, head lazily lolling sideways to look at you, all smiles and looking as if you had found a secret hiding amongst the trees and vines.

"Just thought you might need some company," but you don't approach him, and only peer at his face with the same smile.

He doesn't make any move to wave you away or wave you over and just huffs, prying his eyes away from your form. "I had some until you scared the little critters away,"

You guessed he was pertaining to the Aranara. "My apologies then," you humored him and finally sat next to him, the bark of the tree a little rough on your back. "You really hate Holi, huh?"

"I hate the colours,"

"So you don't particularly hate the tradition?"

"I don't have any reason to hate the tradition," Scaramouche is suddenly conscious of your shoulder bumping into his. His eyes briefly darts towards where they meet, and almost immediately darts away to look at the tree leaves swaying in the breeze.

Wordlessly, you lean over to reach the patch of grass in front of the two of you. There are some stray leaves and sticks right around the place that you gather in the middle. Your fingers snap, and quite quickly the flames of pyro lick the small pile alive.

Scaramouche raises an eyebrow in bafflement at what you were doing, but realizes what the purpose was when you sprinkle some sort of magical powder onto the tiny bonfire.

There's a quick burst of strong flame, then it simmers down. The orange turns into a medley of blue, red, pink, green, and many other colours that take turns appearing in the fire. For a second he was mesmerized at the sudden vibrancy of it, but he scoffs and closes his eyes, leaning backwards on the tree when the novelty of it wore off.

"Holi celebrates the triumph of good over evil," you explain, even though you were certain he knew of this already. Your eyes reflect the different coloured flames, dancing around beautifully.

He's silent.

Good and evil.

What really are they? Was he more evil than good? Or was it the other way around? Did it matter?

Scaramouche never pretended to be a saint. Never pretended that he was without sin. He never claimed that he was a good person. Never, and he never thought that he would be a "good" person. None of that was him. None of the word "good" was an inch of him.

"You're most likely celebrating it with the wrong person then," he peeks an eye open to watch you, but also fully opens his eyes to finally watch the flames with you. It's nothing remarkable really. Just a fire that wasn't orange.

"Because you're evil more than good?" You ask and voice his own thoughts aloud, but you follow with a laugh. "Get over yourself, Scaramouche. It's not just about you," The flames start to dwindle in size, the pile of leaves and sticks were scant to begin with. "It's about celebrating the good things in life,"

The good things in life?

He started to think.

Life itself was already so complicated to him.

Adding "good things" was almost something he didn't want to bother with.

What exactly were the "good things" in life?

He was surprised--even shocked--to come to the conclusion that he was able to think about a few things.

Being of use to someone. Being in a place where peace of mind was available. Having quiet nights as opposed to restless nightmares. Having someone go out of their way to look for him and--

The flames disappeared. He blinked back to reality and turned his head to look at you, who was clapping in small delight at the end of the little fire show you made.

"...I suppose I could celebrate that," he mumbled, almost too hard for you to hear.

"Of course you can!" You piped up, now standing and dusting your clothes in preparation to leave. You weren't actually going to bother him for the whole day, just this small celebration was enough for you. "Surely there must be at least one good thing to happen to you here in Sumeru," you shrug and point at the way you came. "I'll be off then. Careful on your way back, red is really hard to wash off,"

He watches as you casually turn to start heading back. "I'll come," he moves up, purposely not meeting your eyes, picking imaginary fluff off of his shoulder. He then crosses his arms over his chest, melding his expression into a grin. "I need a shield anyway,"

You roll your eyes, and walk ahead of him.

He watches your back, for a moment.

Watches, as he starts to accept that you are one of those good things, despite how annoying and persistent you are in trying to get him to celebrate those dumb traditions.

Excuse any mistakes, written in quite a hurry.

#scaramouche #scaramouche x reader #genshin impact #genshin scaramouche #wanderer

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improbable-outset · 4 months

Text

📂 '𝐓𝐢𝐬 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐒𝐞𝐚𝐬𝐨𝐧

Miguel O’Hara x Fem!Reader

𝐀𝐎3 | 𝐌𝐲 𝐖𝐫𝐢𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐏𝐫𝐨𝐦𝐩𝐭𝐬 | 𝐒𝐩𝐢𝐝𝐞𝐫𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐬𝐞 𝐌𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭

𝐖𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐂𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 2.8k

𝐓𝐖 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐂𝐖: Fingering, Bratty!Reader, Miguel humbling you, innuendos, finger licking, orgasm denial. This can be read as fwb or established relationship 🤭 I kept it vague here but I prefer the former

𝐀/𝐍: Okay, a seasonal special fic even though I don’t celebrate Christmas myself lol. This is more smut heavy than festive. I had fun with this one though icl

𝐒𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: It’s the holiday season and for some reason, you thought it would be a good idea to rile Miguel up more than you usually do. That was until you were taken back to his lab and he gained the upper hand over you.

He couldn’t remember how he even allowed something like this to happen in his sanctuary. Something so unnecessary, so tedious. A waste of time really.

Initially, it was Peter who came up to him and asked about throwing a party in the Spider Society cafeteria.

Immediately declined.

His flamboyant demeanor and exasperated tone only added to Miguel’s accumulating annoyance. But the following day, you approached him to ask the same question but this time around, he was very hesitant to say no.

But he didn’t accept it so easily either. Not without enough persuasion and coaxing from you. He didn’t need to think too deeply to know that you both definitely discussed this beforehand and planned on how you were going to approach him.

How insufferable. Reluctantly he gave in.

Now here he was, leaning against the far corner of the cafeteria with the place far too festive for his liking.

He gripped in vexation onto the plastic cup that was half-filled with booze in his hand, crinkling the plastic. He took a prolonged sip, hoping he could drown himself with enough alcohol to blur out the scene that was folding in front of him right now.

The room filled with the sounds of laughter and banter from the Spider People that surrounded him.

Even with some of them greeting him, he still felt disconnected from it all, like a fish out of water. Everyone’s ease at each other’s company made his own solitude more apparent.

He could be back in HQ in the familiar confinement of his office. Even if he didn’t like looking at the monitors and watching the multiverse all day, at least he was comfortable.

The only reason he was here right now was because he could use this as an excuse to admire you. Why did he have to give in to you like this? Why were you his biggest weakness? Your persuasive nature, while it can be irksome at times, held a strange allure and he hated that it had him on a chokehold.

After roaming his eyes around the crown, he finally caught sight of you. As expected, you were engaged in a hearty conversation with a group of Spider People, including Peter and Jess.

You always drew people in like a magnetic force and though Miguel hated being too social, he still found you captivating. As you graced through the room, you left a trail of laughter and sweetness behind you.

Your gaze eventually fell on him, where he stood in the corner of the room before you glided your way to him through the maze of the crowd, carrying the warm air with you.

“I know this isn’t your type of scene but you don’t need to be sulking in the corner like that.” You quipped as you leaned against the wall beside him. You had your spider suit on, just like everyone else, in addition to a few red and green tinsel around your wrist and your hair that shimmered under the cafeteria lighting.

“I’m not sulking.” He resorted back, giving you a sideways glance to maintain his eye contact, instead of turning to fully face you. The last thing he wanted was to be caught staring at you.

You wavered your hands in response, almost dismissing his comment. “Right, right. Observing, brooding — same difference.”

“What are you trying to get out of this?”

“Nothing— you think I’m that cruel that I’d try to prod something out of you.” You said, moving from your position so you were standing in front of him, leaving him no choice but to look down on you. “You can let loose a little, you know. You might enjoy it.” Even with the aroma of various food from the buffet lingering in the air, Miguel still caught a whiff of your scent that overshadowed it all, which triggered a sudden rush of heat to reach his cock under his digital suit— but not enough to give him a hard on, thankfully.

“I find enjoyment in…other things. Not festive gatherings.” He countered, attempting to maintain his composure despite your subtle teasing. The way you were leaning in wasn’t helping his case.

“Shame. I’d assume you’d loosen up especially since it is the holidays,”

He only recoiled in response. “You’re relentless.”

You were more than that. The past few days before this event, you’ve been progressively trying to push his buttons; it only gotten worse each day.

It started off when a new recruit joined the Spider Society and you volunteered to be his mentor and give him private sessions. He knew you only did it to flicker the flame of jealousy within him.

Fortunately he managed to keep his shit together and was nonchalant about the situation, knowing it would disappoint you to see no reaction out of him.

But then you would resort to being more physical with your teasing.

You would squeeze past him and ‘accidentally’ brush your ass against his crotch. At first he thought it was a coincidence until you tried to do it again.

“Mhmm, guilty at charge. Tell you what, I'll let you stay here and sulk in the corner for a little while and then we can go back to the lab later and I’ll take the ugly Christmas sweater off of you.”

Shocking hell, please do.

You were killing him but he wasn’t going to let you get to his head that easy.

“Thanks for the privilege…” he mumbled lowly into his cup he had been nursing, before taking another swing.

You flashed a smile in response before mingling back into the crowd. Miguel could only chew on his lower lip to suppress the amusing smirk that tugged on his lips.

The next few hours felt stretched out. But finally, he was back in the privacy of his lab with you. The door closed behind with a quiet click before Miguel instructed Lyla to lock it.

It was easy to tell that the decor in the lab was a reflection of Miguel’s personality: equipment was stringently organised with no additional decorations, showcasing his no-nonsense approach to his work. The room ambiance was a testament to his preference for efficiency and purpose, with low lighting for his sensitive eyes.

Miguel lifted you up from the waist, his muscles flexing briefly, before placing you on one of the empty countertops.

“You know, if I had to take a wild guess, I’d say you were purposely sulking just so I could save you back there,” you commented, a daring tone in your voice. A coy grin played on your lips as you watched him intently. Miguel overlooked your tease and leaned in until he was eye level with you.

“You realise I can see right through you. I noticed your behaviour over the past few days and how bratty you’ve been acting.” He was staring intently at you to catch any falter in your expression. Even if you did have the upper hand over him the last few days, this was all still amusing to him, watching the way you acted.

“Oh, should I dial it down for you?”

“Well, I’d be lying if I said I didn’t enjoy it”

He drew himself closer until his lips were close enough to brush against yours. His hands glided along your sides before grasping your waist to pull you close.

He wasn’t going to kiss you, not yet. If he was going to get you back for teasing him, he was going to drag this out for as long as he could, just to throw you off and see how long you’d last.

The ghost of your exhales from your parted lips fanned against his before you pulled your face away completely and slipped from his grasp and got yourself down from the desk, leaving him perplexed.

“Do you want some empanadas?” You asked, holding up a paper box stacked with napkins before flashing him a sugary smile.

Miguel had to blink a few times before he lost his composure. It took him a few heartbeats for him to fully process what just happened.

You seemed to have completely snapped him out of the sensual mood you were sharing.

“What?” His voice gave away his confusion.

“I got them from the cafeteria. I know you love them, so I got enough for both of us.”

He couldn’t tell if your sudden change of behaviour was to mess with him or if you genuinely just wanted to share some food with him. But knowing you, he had a strong sense that it was the former.

“You went from nearly eating my lips to offering empanadas in a span of two seconds.”

“I’m hungry.” You pouted before opening the box to reveal the steaming empanadas inside and held it out to him. “They’re still warm, you know.” You prodded, gesturing to him to take one.

There had to be a catch from this but nevertheless he took one of the pastries from the box. The savoury scent was too good to resist.

You helped yourself to one before you settled yourself back on the desk. He watched you to see if you had anything else planned or if you were going to dial up your seemingly bratty behaviour before he took a bite out of the pastry. You kept your gaze at him and watched him eat.

“Something you want to say?” He asked. You finished off the empanada in your hand before you spoke.

“I think chicken empanadas are better.” You stated.

Miguel couldn’t tell where you were going with this but for now, he played along.

“The beef ones are definitely better,” he replied, finishing his own empanada in his hand before wiping his mouth with a napkin.

“But the chicken one is more tender,”

“That doesn’t make it better. It’s about the flavour not texture,” he further added to his argument.

For a moment, he dismissed everything that had just happened a few minutes ago and now fully concentrated on debating on which empanadas are more delicious. This was a hill he was prepared to die on and he waited to see what you’d say next.

He didn’t expect you to lean in closer from your seat but he didn’t break eye contact with you just yet. You took another empanada from the box and held it near his mouth.

He cocked an inquisitive brow at you in response. The aroma was filling his senses again and he was getting tempted as you moved your hand closer.

“Bite,” you simply commanded. He gave in and bit down on the empanada you provided for him. He chewed carefully before looking back at you again. “It does taste better when you’re being fed by your girl though,” you teased.

“Now you’re just gloating. But I do have to agree it does taste better this way,” he said before taking another bite. The steam from the filling of the pastry wavered around his nostrils.

There was the last bit of the empanada still in your hand, small enough for him to finish off in one bite. As he took the bite, his lips lightly grazed against your fingertips. The touch was subtle but enough for you to freeze up in your seat.

It wasn’t intentional but after seeing your reaction, he couldn’t help his lips from curling up to a satisfied smirk.

He noticed there were a few flaky crumbs of the pastry on your fingers still. Before you could regain your wits and say something, he reached out and started licking the crumbs from your fingers.

He kept his eyes on you to see your reaction, watching your face fall even more.

“What are— what are you doing?” You stuttered out.

“What does it look like? I’m just cleaning up the mess on your fingers.” He continued lapping up your fingers, dragging his tongue slowly over each digit.

You couldn’t do anything but watch in astonishment. At times, Miguel had the upper hand over the two of you and would do something that would leave you speechless, just like now.

You stifled out a low moan and clamped your legs together. Miguel picked up on your body language and his breathing became shallow.

“Someone’s enjoying this more than they should…” He placed a hand on your thigh while lapping up the last flake from your thumb.

You seemed to be drawn back to the present now as your gaze was glued to his hand on your thigh. His hands glided to your inner thigh and stopped at the crease where your thigh meets your torso.

He leaned in to reach the back opening of your suit with his lips feeling the pulse on your neck increasing alarmingly fast.

His ears filled with the subtle swooshing sound of your suit now as it stretched and adjusted to its removal. After a few tugs and pulls, he finally got the suit off you.

He pulled off your panties immediately after to reveal your slick cunt.

“Shocking hell,” he let out a low chuckle at the raw sight of you.

“Be quiet-” you grunted

“Or what?” He slipped a finger through your slick and into your folds, causing you to jolt in surprise.

Your walls fluttered before squeezing around him as he dragged his fingers in and out of you. You grasped onto his biceps and rested your forehead on his shoulders, a low wimped slipping from your lips.

“Mig-” you whimpered.

He continued pumping his fingers in your heated core, feeling how desperate you were for him. The way you rolled your hips in sync with his fingers got his own body responsive.

He felt the familiar heat that rushed to his pelvic area, making his cock twitch desperately under his suit.

The room filled with the squelching sounds from his fingers that was overshadowed by your low moans and it served as a fuel to his perverse delight.

He learned every crevice and every micro expression you made as you frantically tried to reach your high. And he knew how your body responded to all his touches.

He recognised that you were reaching your peak the way your walls tightened even more and how your body shuddered, preparing you for the overwhelming relief. However, just at the very last second, Miguel withdrew his fingers, immediately halting the sensation you were experiencing.

You pulled yourself away when you could feel his fingers anymore, your face dropped in shock.

“Miguel, why?” You croaked out, your voice hoarse from the bliss.

Miguel’s finger was glistening from your wetness. He used his other hand to hold your chin as he spoke.

“You really think I’m going to let you finish after the way you’ve been behaving over the last few days?” He said, almost growling now.

“You can’t be serious…”

“I’m dead serious, muñeca.”

You huffed out in frustration and Miguel felt a surge of satisfaction growing in his chest. He finally had the upper hand after being tormented by you for so long.

But he wasn’t going to do anything that would purposely hurt your emotions. This was just to give you a taste of your own medicine. You gazed back up at him.

“Okay, okay, I’m sorry for my behaviour. Now could you please let me finish…” you begged.

“Promise me.”

“I promise, please…” your voice was becoming more frantic now and it only made his cock twitch even further, making it harder for him to deny you even more.

He knew that if he was going to let you release now, your orgasm would be more mind shattering and intense from built up tension from the delayed climax.

He slipped two fingers in this time, feeling the warmth of your walls immediately contracting in response. Your muscles were like velvet and steel at the same time— soft and pliant yet having a vice-like grip on his fingers.

Your eyes followed his hand movement but Miguel lifted your chin with his other hand again so you would look back up at him.

“No me quintes los ojos de encima muñeca.” He instructed. You obeyed.

He watched as your face warped and your brows furrowed as you were lost in the heat of your pleasure while he let his fingers do the talking.

It didn’t take long for your walls to squeeze tighter around him along with your moans becoming more frantic, a familiar trance of your impending release.

Your body convulsed as you unraveled and his fingers were bathed from the sweet nectar of your arousal.

Miguel pulled his fingers out of your heated core, both digits now slippery and sticky from your natural lubricant.

“Be good to me and I’ll let you cum on my cock next time,” he kissed your forehead.

You, on the other hand, we’re still breathless from your bliss. You gulped before you opened your lips to speak. “Thanks for the privilege…”

Icl, I kinda ate with the dialogues here 🤭🤭 God bless c.ai otherwise I would’ve never written that empanada scene

#miguel o’hara smut #miguel o'hara x reader #miguel o’hara x reader #miguel ohara x reader #miguel o'hara #atsv miguel #miguel spiderman #spiderman atsv #spiderman 2099 x reader #spiderman 2099 x you #spiderman 2099 #miguel smut #miguel o'hara x you #miguel o'hara smut #♦︎— spicy #★— ayrus writes

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moon-rivr · 6 months

Text

flashing lights

(short little drabble based on this gif 🥸)

pairing: actor miguel o’hara x co-star reader

contents: brief mentions of sex

word count: 800+

You and Miguel had been cast as co-stars for a 'marriage in crisis' show and the two of you were currently promoting it at a film festival. The evening was spent of signing autographs and delving into what you characters were based on, but eventually the two of you found your way back to each other at the center of the stage after talking with some reporters, posing for some of the cameras.

While Miguel normally found this to be the extraneous part of being a movie star, he didn't mind it so much when he was with you. He'd been known to be cold on set and he'd ran off so many assistants that he had to make his own, but he instantly had a connection with you. You'd treated him so kindly, like he wasn't a movie star, but rather, an actual person. The chemistry through the screen with you was palpable, even having the director asking the two of you to tone it down a little bit.

Every single kiss scene or sex scene between the two of you didn't feel awkward, it felt like it was second nature to him. The way your back arched when he was kissing down your neck, leaving small bite marks in his wake. Though he knew that it was wrong to form some attachment to you, he couldn't help but want to leave his mark on you. After a while, being on stage with you didn't feel like it was his job but rather something that he wanted to do. Something that he needed to do to satiate the burning desire he felt inside.

He wrapped his hand around the small of your back and you brought your hands up to his cheeks, the two of you facing each other as the cameras clicked away. The two of you separated after a couple seconds and you brought your arm up to his shoulder, almost embracing him in a side hug. He took the opportunity to look straight into your eyes as he lowered his head, leaving small kisses on your arm. He instantly regretted the decision as the smell of your perfume and body wash combined into the sweetest scent, intoxicating every thought that had been roaming around in his head.

As predicted, the reporters went wild and started cheering at the two of you, but he couldn't help but keep his eyes on you as he did so. His red eyes burned into you with such intensity that you were almost convinced for a minute that this wasn't all a show, that this wasn't acting. He'd turned his body sideways so he was facing you completely, making the scene all the more intimate. "¡Beso! ¡Beso!" one of the reporters from Univision started chanting, wanting to get a glimpse of the chemistry between the two of you in person. (kiss)

"Can I kiss you?" He whispered in your ear and you nodded, solely convinced that it was just because the two of you were acting. He brought his lips towards yours, the clicking of the cameras matching the thundering of his heartbeat against his chest. While this was just acting for you, he saw this as an opportunity to have you close to him and to taste what he's been missing since filming ended.

He knew he'd get a phone call from his brother tomorrow after seeing this on Primer Impacto, probably a dramatized version of events, but he couldn't find it in him to care at the moment. He was just basking in the way that your lips melted against his, the way your body leaned into his touch even though the two of you had solely agreed to only be friends. The two of you pulled away at the same time and the reporters cheered at getting their new headline for tomorrow, the flashing of cameras never stopping.

Miguel felt his heart beating rapidly in his chest as he continued to take photos with you, every position having the two of you close and intimate. He couldn't help but fall even more in love with the way that you felt in his arms, like the missing puzzle piece from his life and the way that you answered every question the reporter had with such precision.

You didn't leave anything up in the air with your answers but you also didn't reveal too much to the reporters, making them want more and more. It felt ironic the more that he thought about it, that he and the reporters just wanted you to give them more and more of your presence. The two of you eventually separated and walked off the stage to your respective dates for the night.

But if this was all acting like the two of you said it was, then why couldn't he get you out of his mind? Why couldn't he stop thinking about what it would be like to actually have sex with you, of kissing you, and holding you without any cameras nearby? And why, why did he feel so empty as he walked back to the date his manager picked out for the night? Why did he wish so badly that he would be leaving home with you instead of his date?

#moon-rivr #miguel o'hara #miguel o’hara fanfiction #miguel o’hara imagine #miguel o’hara x reader #miguel o’hara x you #miguel o’hara x y/n #miguel o’hara smut #spiderman 2099 #atsv miguel #miguel x y/n #miguel spiderverse #across the spiderverse #miguel x you #miguel spiderman #miguel o’hara drabble

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sh1-n0bu · 1 year

Note

Sub!scara getting jealous of the interaction's between reader and dottore, so he flirts with one of the guest. Only to end up punished and overstimulated at the end of the night.

please and thank you. Take care and have a nice day, night, or afternoon. See you next ask♡

♡︎ 𝙖 𝙡𝙞𝙩𝙩𝙡𝙚 𝙗𝙞𝙩 𝙟𝙚𝙡𝙡𝙮 ♡︎

characters: sub!scaramouche x gn!dom!reader

warnings: overstimulation, degrading, dacryphillia, breeding, orgasm denial

notes: i had to rely on my maladaptive daydreaming for this one. takes place after scaramouche’s defeat era but reader and scara came across dottore during a sumeru festival.

i’m so sorry i took soo long😭😭 see you at the next ask and please come again by the cafe!

ever since the defeat of scaramouche from his false godhood and the therapy sessions with nahida and the aranaras, he’s mentality has been getting better and better. not all of his trauma is healed yet but hey he’s working on it!

and it seems like the people of sumeru has held another grand festival in the name of the lesser lord kusanali. of course a festival is nothing if it doesn’t invite everyone who wants to join of course. however not everyone is an exactly a welcome guests. that includes dottore, the 2nd of the fatui harbingers.

don’t get me wrong, just because a guest isn’t a welcome one doesn’t mean they would be shoo-d out. but your sweet boyfriend didn’t like it. not at all. seeing dottore casually talking to you with a carefree, lopsided smile while he has to stand back and try not to march over where you two are and make out with you was hard. so hard to the point he accidentally put out the lanterns around him with his newfound anemo power.

and there dottore was. chatting with you as if you two were old friends, reunited after years of not seeing each other. throwing a snide remark about how your loving darling was a failure, how he can be a better boyfriend for you and how he was even better than him in all ways while you tried your hardest not to break his jaw.

the last straw for your darling was the doctor leaning against you like you two were lovers and whispering in your ears. that’s it. he’s had enough.

pulling a random citizen close by their waist, scaramouche started to flirt with them. compliment after compliment, flirty remark after one another, it even seemed like the fool was falling for his trick.

looking sideways for your lover’s help only to see him throwing flirtatious remarks with some fool, something in you snapped. first was dottore and now this? that’s it, you’ve had it. pushing the blue haired man away from yourself and striding over to where your lover is with a fuzzy mind, everyone around you backed away.

“so, what do you say if we meet up more oft-hey! let go of me you-?!” when scara was suddenly pulled away and collided with a broad chest, he knew he fucked up big time. looking up at you with a wide eyes and a shuddered breath, the dark look in your eyes made him shiver. was it anticipation? fear? excitement? he didn’t know. but frankly he didn’t care since he finally have your attention on him now! and only him alone.

“forgive us but a sudden work has popped up for me and my lover” sending a sweet smile towards the stranger, you quickly walked back home with your lover struggling to catch up with you.

as soon as the door to your small shared home is closed, scaramouche found himself trapped against the wall in a hungry kiss. he didn’t mind it, this was his plan after all. moaning into the kiss and grinding his ass on your legs, your short lover was starting to grow restless. why weren’t you touching him already?!

it seemed like his wish will be granted for soon he soon found himself thrown into the bed harshly. anticipating your next moves with lust drumming in his veins, scaramouche looked up at you with a cloudy purple eyes.

—

“aanngh-gyah! c-cumming! cummingcummingcum-!” scaramouche helplessly whined and sobbed as you kept fucking him stupid. but just as he was about to reach his peak you pulled out again, leaving his hole feeling empty and hips twitching.

“NO! nonononono! p-put it back! [name]~ put it ba-ackk! please!” more tears fell down his face for the pleasure you denied him of. sticking out his stretched, gaping hole and wiggling his ass for you, he hoped it would be enough to lure you back in. you’ve been denying his orgasm for hours and it fucking hurt.

“sniff… please? p-please? hic i-i won’t do it again…” seems like your precious boy has completely gave up. sniffling and praying to any archons, scaramouche wailed and trashed around when your thick length entered his hole again. a mess of desperate “please” and “i’ll be good”-s tumbled out of his mouth. well, you were mean to him for long enough, you supposed.

“cum for me love” letting out a loud wail and blabbering “thank you”-s, scaramouche came all over the sheets, hands scrambling to hold anything. some even squirted on his tummy. laying flat on his stomach as his legs had finally gave out, your sweet boy tried to catch his breath. but you aren’t done with him yet.

“haah haah [n-naME]?! S-SHTOP! WHA-WHAT AANGGGH♡︎♡︎!!”

“shh, it’s okay baby boy. you did some stupid shit today so you have to learn how to pay for it. or else you’ll never learn” kissing his shoulder, you ignored his incoherent sobs for you to stop and continued to thrust into his sloppy hole.

“i’ll just make you dumber and dumber scara. until the only thing you can scream is my name”. that night was filled with scaramouche wailing and sobbing your name, begging for forgiveness.

#nobu.writes #sub!genshin impact #sub!genshin #sub genshin impact #sub genshin #sub scaramouche #sub!scaramouche #genshin x reader smut #genshin smut #scaramouche smut #x dom reader #dom!reader

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cambion-companion · 1 year

Note

“Just let me finish this and I swear ill go down on you until you cum at least three times.” (144) lets get down to bussines

Part 2 of "Spray of Blood"

Word count: 2724

reader gets lost trying to run back to King's Landing and Aemond, still splattered in blood, has to find her and bring her back to safety.

haha this is a joint effort it seems! Also I have wanted to write reader sitting on Aemond's face so thank you for #86

28. i’m just getting comfy

74. “Do you want me to stay?”

86. “don’t be shy now, sit on my face.”

98. “if we weren’t in public right now i’d have my head between your legs”

Aemond x wife!reader | smutty ending | 18+ only | fluff and a sprinkle of angst | Aemond isn't super happy lmao

You were lost.

Cursing, you stopped in the middle of the empty street, turning on the spot, surveying your unfamiliar surroundings.

"Fuck me sideways." You muttered, taking a moment to rub your aching temples.

You had indulged in too much spiced wine at the festival, muddling your already questionable orienteering skills.

"If the lady insists." A hissing voice accompanied a slender man emerging from the shadows of a stone building.

He held no weapon, seeming to think you easy prey as he strode forward, already unbuckling his trousers.

You still held the stone you had picked up when Aemond had confronted the men in the market, and so you collected your frayed nerves, taking careful aim as Aemond had taught you.

You threw the shard of brick, it struck true with a dull thud to the man's head. He went down like a sack of flour, hitting the damp cobblestones with a dull thud.

Shaking, you hurried on your way, in the direction you hoped the Red Keep was in. At least you were still walking uphill, that seemed to be a good sign.

After a few minutes of meandering, warm yellow light fell upon your face, a tavern in front of you that appeared cozy and welcoming. As you entered, you noticed a few other patrons, but the dining area and counter was mostly empty. A squat looking man was stacking dishware behind the bar counter as you took a seat.

He gave you a cursory glance with a raised eyebrow, you shifted to hide the fine fabric of your dress beneath the cloak you still wore. You pulled back your hood, wanting to be recognizable if Aemond passed the window searching for you.

"What can I get you?" The bartender asked in a gruff baritone, seeming not to care what brought you to his establishment so long as you had gold.

"Do you have hot tea? Or something non-alcoholic?" You asked. "I just came from the fire festival and had a bit too much to drink there."

"Ah I see!" The man smiled, his ruddy cheeks reflecting the candlelight. "Yes, I can get you some green tea brewed up. Does wonders for a hangover."

"Thank you."

Minutes passed, turning to hours as you sat at the uncomfortable wooden table. You drank several mugs of steaming earthy tea, enjoying the way it warmed your body from the inside out.

"Are ye waiting for someone?" The bartender looked at you quizzically, clearly wondering why you were remaining for so long. All the other patrons had left for their homes by now.

"Yes, my husband."

"You're lost?"

You shifted uneasily in your seat, casting him a wary glance.

He raised his hands, a towel draped over his shoulder. "I mean you no harm miss, but if you'd like directions, I can give them." He glanced outside at the dark streets. "Though perhaps it best if you wait here, it's not safe for anyone to be wandering about right now."

"Where am I?"

He chuckled looked at you with a fatherly smile. "Outskirts of Flea Bottom."

You groaned.

"Not where you intended to be I expect. Not wearing a dress like that."

You shifted your cloak to cover yourself better.

"You have nothing to fear from me." The keeper reiterated. "I'll not cast you out till your husband comes to fetch you."

"Thank you." You lay your head upon your hands, staring glassy eyed out the window, praying to all the gods Aemond would find you.

You had fallen into a doze, jolted awake by the sound of the inn door slamming open and the exclamation of the barkeep still behind his counter.

Aemond, glorious with his shining hair and piercing violet eye, strode into the tavern, his gaze locked onto you.

"My-my prince! What an unexpected..." The tavern keeper trailed off as he watched Aemond walking purposefully toward you.

You rose from your seat, throwing your arms around Aemond's neck as he pulled you against him, his hands at your back, stroking soothingly as he kissed your ear.

You tried your best not to sob. "Aemond, I got lost."

"You're the wife of Aemond Targaryen?"

The two of you broke apart to turn to the front of the room, where the keeper was bowing low.

"He helped keep me safe." You interlocked your fingers with Aemond's.

Your husband stepped up to the rough wood counter, depositing a bag of clinking coins onto its surface. "You have my gratitude."

The man continued to bow, averting his gaze. Aemond made a soft "hmm" in the back of his throat, guiding you out of the warm room into the cool night air.

You didn't get far before he pulled you to a stop, his taut face illuminated silver in the moonlight. "I've been searching for you for hours, Y/N."

"I-"

He held up a hand to stop you from speaking. "You were not in our rooms. So, I returned to the square as quickly as I could, asking anyone still outside if they had seen you."

You looked down at your feet guiltily as Aemond continued.

"Imagine my surprise when I find a man collapsed upon the ground, a stone beside him and a lump on his forehead."

"He...had ill intentions." You whispered, still studying your shoes.

"Hmm. A shame I left him alive then." Aemond's fingers hooked under your chin, pulling your face to look up at him. "However, that is how I found you sitting in that tavern."

You slowly moved forward, tentatively wrapping your arms around Aemond's waist. You could tell how worn and anxious he was, specks of blood still upon his tunic from the men he'd dispatched earlier that evening.

"Aemond, I'm sorry for getting lost. I...was panicking and a little drunk." You smiled weakly as his face softened, his lilac eye roving your features as you rubbed small circles to the small of his back.

"I had intended this to be a relaxing evening of fun." Aemond said, giving a short laugh of derision. He cupped your face in his hands. You noticed they shook slightly. "I was beside myself with worry, Y/N." He brushed his soft lips to yours gently. "This is not a place for a woman to wander alone."

"You have me safe now, Aemond."

"And safe is where I will keep you."

He kissed you firmly, slanting his mouth over yours, his fingers tangling in your hair as you made a soft noise against him. In the tension of his body against your own you felt how worked up he was from the events of the night, the intensity with which he kissed you promised bruised lips in the morning.

“If we weren’t in public right now I'd have my head between your legs."

"Aemond." You whispered, shocked, as you checked over your shoulder for anyone listening. The streets were luckily empty, though several windows were wide open.

"Come." The prince grasped your hand firmly in his and began leading you in the correct direction of the Red Keep.

You breathed a sigh of relief at the welcome sight of your chambers, lit with the orange glow of a blazing fire in the hearth that you immediately crossed to stand before, warming your hands.

Your large, clawed bathtub sat full of steaming water in the middle of the room.

Aemond came up behind you, wrapping his arms around your middle, his chin resting on your shoulder.

"I had the servants draw a bath for your return, we are fortunate it seems to still be hot."

You felt him beginning to loosen the ties of your dress. "Do you want me to stay?" He asked, nuzzling into your neck. "I'd understand if you need to be alone. It has been a...difficult evening."

"Please stay, Aemond. I need you with me, especially right now."

He kissed your neck and resumed undoing your dress. You smiled to yourself at his evident eagerness to see you laid bare before him.

The fabric of your dress and undergarments pooled around your feet, you leaned into Aemond's warm touch as he fondled the curves of your ass and hips with one hand, his other reaching around to stroke at your breasts.

You turned to him, allowing his gaze to roam your firelit body. "You are still covered in blood, my lord husband." Your wandering fingers began undoing the clasps of his own clothing, shedding each garment with tender care until he was as naked as you, his thick member already standing at attention.

You smiled coyly at him, allowing him to support your balance as you stepped into the hot water of the bath. You sank down into the silken water, scooting forward enough for Aemond to take his place behind you.

You pressed your back against him, your hands running along his legs as they caged your body, his arms wrapping around your torso.

"I'm just getting comfy." You murmured, leaning back so that your head rested against Aemond's chest, looking up at his adoring gaze.

He had removed his eyepatch, the sapphire gemstone glittering dazzlingly by the reflection of firelight against the water that now lapped against the edges of the wooden tub.

The two of you rested like this together, rubbing each other down with soap and wash cloths. You took your time cleansing Aemond's skin, feeling the knots in his tense muscles and kneading them loose, his eye fluttered shut at your loving attentions.

Only when the water had cooled and the two of you began to shiver, did you exit the bath, helping each other towel down until you were relatively dry. Aemond grabbed your waist, pulling you in for another scorching kiss, one of many he'd bestowed upon you that night.

"Lay on the bed for me."

You obeyed, perhaps misinterpreting his meaning as you wrapped yourself in your nightrobe before getting comfortable in bed. You watched Aemond from your cocoon of blankets as he busied himself trying to get the stains out of his tunic and undershirt.

"Aemond..." You called quietly, trying to entice him over with the lilt of your voice.

"The blood has set into the fabric long enough, Y/N. Give me a moment to try and lift it."

"Aemond." You wiggled beneath the covers, seeking to draw his gaze.

“Just let me finish this and I swear I'll go down on you until you cum at least three times.”

"If you don't come over here now, I'm going to start touching myself."

You knew just what to threaten.

With a growl, Aemond threw down his ruined shirt upon the sofa, striding to the bed and throwing the blankets off your body. "Take that off." His dilated eye took in your tantalizing curves wrapped up in your fluffy nightrobe.

"I'm cold."

"Do not tease me anymore this eve." Aemond crawled over your prone form, dragging his teeth along your bottom lip. "You heard me. Take. It. Off."

You undid the tie around your waist, shifting the fabric off, exposing yourself once more to your husband's eager touch. His fingers rolled your pebbling nipples, tugging at your flesh, eliciting a gasp of pleasure from your lips as you arched into him.

"Already so wet for me." Aemond murmured against your lips, his hand cupping your sex, feeling between your slick folds.

You gasped at the feeling of him exploring you. In a fluid motion, you rolled your entwined bodies over, shifting to sit on his torso, looking down at Aemond's face, his curved lips parted in surprise.

"I want to be on top." You could barely speak, so entranced you were at the sight of him laid beneath you, his silver hair spread out atop the pillows. "Let me do this, please."

You rocked your hips, feeling his hard arousal beneath you as you stroked your vulva along Aemond's shaft. His eyelid fluttered at the sensation, his hands rising to grip your hips as you lost yourself in the feeling of him.

"Don’t be shy now, sit on my face.”

Your mouth parted, Aemond tugged you a little forward by his grip on your hips. "Are-are you sure I won't suffocate you?"

Aemond laughed. "If you do, I couldn't think of a better way to go."

Heat pooled in your belly as you scooted forward, bracing your hands against the bedframe as you hovered on your knees over Aemond's face. "You're sure?"

"Y/N."

Aemond rose just enough to tease your entrance with his nose, nuzzling against your swollen clit. You gasped, lowered yourself rather gracelessly onto his angular face.

You quivered, feeling Aemond's tongue working against you as you rocked gently against him. His chin, his nose all pressed against your most sensitive parts. The wet sound of him lapping up your essence filled the darkened room.

"Oh Aemond." You gripped the bedframe tighter, making sure to not actually suffocate your husband with your cunt no matter how he tried to pull you more against his searching mouth, his fingers pressing deep against the flesh of your thighs.

He grunted, the vibration of his voice causing you to clench around the tip of his tongue as he fucked it into you. His nose continued pressing and rubbing against your clit, Aemond moving his whole face with your movements as you began to grind down on him, losing your self control.

His name spilled from your panting mouth, your climax rushing over you like waves upon the sea cliffs. Aemond drank you down eagerly, his tongue lapping you up as though you tasted of the finest wine. You rode out your orgasm on his face, your legs shaking as you lifted yourself off him, collapsing to the mattress as your husband rolled over you once more. His hair was a mess, his lips and chin soaked from your juices. You bit your bottom lip at the lewd sight, his eye tracking the movement.

Aemond kissed you, more gently than you had anticipated, his tongue searching your mouth, allowing you to taste your own release as he lined his cock to your entrance. You gripped the back of his head, gasping against him as he sunk slowly into you. Aemond's breath filled your lungs as his cock stretched you out deliciously, filling you until he was fully seated within your still quivering walls.

Aemond broke your kiss, pulling away enough to watch your face as he began rutting into you. His gentleness gave way to a rougher, more desperate pace, his cock brushing your cervix with every punishing stroke. You clung to him, your legs rising instinctively to allow him deeper access.

"Y/N." Aemond breathed your name like a prayer, his chest still flush against your own as he nibbled the shell of your ear. "I can feel you tightening around me." You cried out as he increased his pace still more, fucking you deep into the mattress. "I need you to come. Show me you're mine." His cock twitched inside you. "Mine alone to claim."

"I am yours, Aemond." You felt your second orgasm of the night begin to rush through your body, your spasming quim already beginning to milk his member. "Forever yours."

Your name, so sweet on Aemond's tongue, filled the night air, mingling with your wordless moans of ecstasy as your husband spilled his hot seed within your clenching cunt. He pushed himself as deep into you as he could, remaining rooted there until you had both come down from the high of your climax.

Your legs were shaking in earnest now, Aemond reluctantly pulled away, his cum spilling out of you onto the now ruined bedsheets. Exhausted, satiated, and heedless of the mess you'd made, Aemond pulled you against him, encasing you in his arms. He placed a kiss to the top of your head as you made a pillow of his chest, his legs still tangled with your own.

Sleep took you quickly, a lock of Aemond's silken hair wrapped around your forefinger as you had a habit of doing when seeking comfort.

Aemond lay awake for a long while after you had drifted off, his mind still alive with the fear and rage that had consumed him mere hours before. Bedding you had taken the edge off, however the many gruesome possibilities of what could have happened remained unbidden and unwelcome.

He held you tighter against his lithe body, feeling the reassuring rise and fall of your chest on his, the light snores emitting from your slack mouth. Eventually exhaustion overtook Aemond, his eye falling closed, his lips still pressed to your head even in sleep.

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itaipava · 6 months

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— carlos sainz being a simp for you.

he always puts his arm over your shoulder without saying anything or takes his hand out of his pockets to hold yours when you approach him. kisses on the back of your hand when he’s a little distracted by the phone, but still wants to show you affection while you wait for your coffee orders at the cafe. casual hugs at concerts or festivals and him dropping a kiss on the top or back of the neck.

he quietly sneaks up behind you and puts his chin on your shoulder, one arm loosely wrapped around you. and sometimes he doesn’t say a word, casually watching whatever you’re doing on your device; but most times, he starts small conversation like what you’re having for dinner. and often he turns you around mid-conversation so that he can give you a proper hug and a few kisses on your forehead, temple and lips.

it’s not strange for him to know a thing or two about you like which days of the week you’re free. but he pleasantly catches you off-guard by remembering your favorite food, tv shows and characters, and what kinds of pets you want, even when you don’t even remember you told him. and there’s the little not-so-subtle pride and joy in his eyes and grin when he sees you’re touched although he tries to act cool about it by saying without thinking, “why wouldn’t i know that about you? we spend a lot of time together,”

he hugs with his whole heart, like he’s pouring his love for you through the embrace, wrapping his arms around your waist and pulling you close; the kind of hugs that are just tight enough that they make you feel safe and protected. and sometimes, you’re startled by his arms suddenly encircling around you from the side or behind and he chuckles softly against your hair, “sorry baby; just wanted you in my arms,”

he loves to see you sleep. not in a creepy way, but in a genuine and loving way. seeing you sleep peacefully in his arms is one of the few things that makes him feel at peace and forget about everything; he gently runs his finger over your face, as if he’s decorating every detail of you with his fingertips. he either brushes your hair out of your face or else just stands there, watching you calmly with his eyes shining with love and affection like never before. and before going to sleep too, he smiles sideways and leaves a kiss on your forehead before carefully hugging you as if that would protect you - and him - from the whole world.

when he sees you tired or even dozing, he doesn’t think twice about pulling you to him; your head resting on his chest or his lap. he wraps his arms around you and holds you tightly, as if to make sure you know you’ll be safe with him, that nothing bad will happen while he’s here.

he loves taking photos of you; when you travel, you don’t even need to ask him to take photos of you, he simply takes his phone out of his pocket and says “stay there” and walks away a little and starts taking several photos of you. he also likes to take candid photos because he thinks you’re so beautiful and he just can’t resist.

he is always looking out for you in the smallest ways. hair out of place? he’ll fix it and then kiss your head while saying “i got it”. walking around? his hand is on your lower back as he guides you around. he’s also really good at reading your body language and knows when to step in if you’re feeling uncomfortable or tired; will take your hand and kiss your knuckles, saying “i got you” while he takes you home.

doesn’t like being away from you for too long. when he’s away, he sends you pictures of everything he sees and things that remind him of you. “look! these flowers are so pretty, and they’re your favorite color!” or “i’m going to bring you here someday. i promise.” will randomly facetime you just to see your face and hear your voice. from i love you’s to good morning texts, he wants to stay connected with you no matter what.

#f1 x reader #f1 imagine #f1 fic #f1 fanfic #carlos sainz headcanon #carlos sainz x y/n #carlos sainz x you #carlos sainz fic #carlos sainz x reader #carlos sainz fluff #carlos sainz imagine #carlos sainz fanfic

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hel-looks · 10 months

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Aamu, 31

”My shirt is thrifted from Emmaus second hand. Shorts I cut from some age-old Adidas sweatpants and thights were handed down from my partner. Bag is bought from diy noise label What's The Point Records. I'm going through a social transition and have a mild clothing crisis due to lack of more gender affirming clothing. I wear feminine light pieces mixed with more robust stuff from my guy-era all black crusty wardrobe. I'm inspired by diy-culture, punk, techno, and simplicity.”

9 June 2023, Sideways Festival

#hel look #hel looks #street style #street fashion #helsinki street style #Helsinki Finland #sideways festival #thrifted #style #outfit #finnish

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basketonthedoorstepofthefbi · 11 days

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Shaking (Spencer Reid x Fem!Reader)

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Fem!Reader

Summary: You have an anxiety attack in a public setting, but luckily, the doctor is there to help you through it.

Word Count: 2450

Warnings: Anxiety attack, mild cursing, mostly just ANGST and then comforting FLUFF

A/N: Wanted to write Spence comforting the reader during a panic attack. Fanfiction is better than therapy, right? At least, it’s cheaper! Also not my GIF

——

“You don’t want to just order it online?” Spencer asked as you walked beside him down the sidewalk. His longer legs would typically mean that he’d be several steps ahead of you, but he always slowed his pace so you wouldn’t have to strain to keep up with him. He also walked on the outside of the path because, let’s face it, he was a gentleman.

You shook your head. “No, I want the whole experience,” you said excitedly as you walked, your face lighting up in anticipation. You were on your way towards a local bookstore, where the third book in your favorite series was being released today. The bookstore was going to be packed, but you were so excited to be one of the first ones in the door, to get your hands on a physical copy. “I don’t ever do things like this, but it’ll be something I think about every time I look at the book sitting on my shelf.”

Spencer nodded, lifting his hand, his thumb and forefinger in an O-shape as he spoke. “Ah, the age-old concept of symbolic treasures. One of the main reasons why souvenirs are such a prevalent part of going on vacation. Did you know the tradition dates back to Ancient Egypt?”

You shook your head as you continued to walk with him. Your boyfriend carried on without fault. “As far back as 2200 B.C, Egyptian Prince Harkhuf traveled to what is now known as Sudan and returned with all sorts of objects to present to his father, the pharaoh,” Spencer explained. His words spat out quickly, compulsively, as though they had to exit his encyclopedic brain. “He brought back items such as incense, ivory, even the skins of leopards to show off to his father.”

“I had no idea,” you told Spencer as you neared the bookstore, smiling sideways at him. You loved it when he spouted off facts like that, like he had to get the information out or else he’d explode. He had confessed to you more than once before that most people found it weird or off-putting or even annoying, but not you. Rather, you loved learning new things. Whatever information he had to share with you was always relevant in one way or another, and it was just one of the reasons why you loved spending time with him - he made you a more knowledgeable, well-rounded person.

Before either of you could say much else, you’d reached the back of the line of the bookstore. You checked the time on your phone. The store would open in about fifteen minutes. The line stretched down at least a full block, from what you could see. Lots of people dressed like characters from the books, shuffling their feet in excited anticipation.

There were at least a hundred people in the line, and after a minute or two, a couple dozen more had filed in behind where you stood. You pursed your lips for a moment, scanning the crowd until your eyes met Spencer’s.

“What’s wrong?” He asked, inclining his head to the side.

You shook your head. “Nothing,” you said. “Just… lot of people.”

Spencer nodded understandingly, then reached down to take your hand. Your fingers twined with his and he squeezed his palm against yours. “I’m right here,” he reminded you. You didn’t love crowds. They always made you feel anxious, perhaps even a little claustrophobic. You and Spencer had gone to a fairly crowded French film festival a few months ago and there hadn’t been an organized line to enter; rather, it had been a cluster of people, all pressed together. And you had felt like you couldn’t breathe. Spencer’d had to pull you to a seat off to the side so you could catch your breath, and you’d missed getting a seat up front like you’d been hoping for.

Right now, you were okay, though. There were people in front of you and behind you, but they weren’t flush against you like they had been waiting for the film festival to open. And Spencer was holding your hand, and you were outside, with the cool, spring morning breeze hitting your face. It was fine. You were going to be fine. You inhaled deeply and exhaled, then nodded your head, feeling the anxiety dissipate. “I’m good,” you told Spencer, looking up at him.

Spencer nodded. He squeezed your hand once again before letting go, only so he could wrap his arm around your shoulders and tug you so you leaned against his chest. He kissed the top of your hair. “It’s going to be just fine,” he promised you, and you just smiled to yourself.

About ten minutes later, the store opened. You only knew that because the line started moving, and more quickly than you thought. You squealed in delight and matched the pace of the people in front of you, Spencer by your side with an amused grin on his face. He loved books just as much as you did, if not more, but this outing was definitely just for you. He’d read the other preceding books in this series (literally just because you asked him to and it took him an hour, tops), but he wasn’t a total geek for it like you were.

You finally made it inside the bookstore, a small business, a local place. You’d been inside several times before, but you hadn’t realized just how small the building actually was until you stepped in now. It was two stories, but everyone was tightly packed, with the people and the bookshelves crowding around you as you made it fully inside the store. There was even a line to go up to the second floor, like a queue at an amusement park.

There was little to no breathing room. Everyone was talking as they waited their turn to grab a copy of the new book, and the sound seemed to bounce off the walls and the ceiling and smack you right in the ear. The air felt thick despite the front door and handful of windows being opened, allowing the cool spring breeze to ruffle the pages of the paperbacks on display.

But it wasn’t refreshing. Rather, it was another stimulant that caused the neurons in your brain to fire even faster. You felt your palms get slick. You felt your heart start to pound, and your knees wobble as you shuffled forward in the line. What were you even waiting in line for? You momentarily forgot, blinking a few times before looking up at the man beside you. Spencer was engrossed in looking around the bookstore, the corners of his mouth quirking upward as he seemed to find something amusing. But when his eyes came full circle back to you, they were immediately filled with concern. “Y/N?” He asked softly, placing a hand on your shoulder.

You couldn’t even hear him. The sound of his voice just bounced off your brain, like you were trapped inside of cellophane. All you could think was trapped. I’m trapped. No way out. Stuck. Caged. Can’t breathe. Can’t breathe.

You felt your breathing go heavy, and your eyes fill up with tears. Your cheeks were red, bright red, judging from how hot you suddenly felt. “Leave,” you managed to choke out, your voice coming out from your throat. It felt like your throat was lined with thorns, like the words you wanted to say kept getting caught.

Spencer nodded. “Leave? Yeah. Yeah, baby, we can leave,” Spencer grabbed your hand, tugging you along behind him as he murmured “excuse me, pardon me,” to the other patrons, to get through the crowd. Moving against the crowd was so much worse than standing still. All those eyes on you, seeing your red face and the anxious tears trickling down your cheeks. It was so embarrassing, freaking out like this is such a public space. Everyone thinks I’m a freak, you thought. Your anxiety became not about the crowd, but about your anxiety, about how you were being perceived. Your breathing picked up, quickened, and by the time Spencer led you out into the morning sun, you were fully hyperventilating.

The thoughts in your head were racing at the speed of light. You hated feeling nervous like this, but moreover, you hated that Spencer had to take care of you because of it. You felt like you had ruined the day because your head wasn’t on straight, because you couldn’t stand in a crowd of people and hear the cacophony of voices and tamp down your panic.

Spencer led you down the block, about twenty feet from the store, away from the crowd, and your breath was still coming out staccato, unstable as you looked down at your shaking hands. You were crying and hyperventilating and the whole world felt like it was spinning. Spencer kept his hold on your hand and stood in front of you, squeezing his palm against yours. His eyes, those light brown irises with little flecks of green, stared into yours. “Hey, Y/N,” he said, bending his knees so his face was level with yours. “Breathe with me, okay?”

You shook your head, your eyes clamping shut. You were so mad at yourself in that moment. You didn’t want to have Spencer take care of you, to have to drag you out of a bookstore because you were having a panic attack. “Baby, you’re trembling,” you heard Spencer’s voice laced with concern. “Look at me. We’ll get through this together.”

You opened your eyes slowly, and that’s when you realized your entire body was shaking. You looked into Spencer’s eyes and he released your hand so he could cup your face. His fingers anchored under your jaw, his thumbs rested on your cheeks, and his eyes were wide, full of worry, but his voice managed to stay soothing and calm. “Follow my breath, Y/N. Do what I’m doing, okay? In for four, hold for four, out for four.”

He inhaled for 4 seconds, and you tried to follow his lead, but you just couldn’t control your lungs. “It’s okay,” he assured you as your brows furrowed, presenting frustration. “C’mon, try again.” He inhaled for 4 seconds, and you managed to match him this time. “Hold for four,” you held your breath while Spencer counted. “And out for four,” you exhaled deeply. “Good, okay, let’s do it again.”

Spencer guided your breath for a few minutes, until you finally felt like you could do it on your own. And when you finally felt yourself coming down from the rush of panic that had sent you into fight-or-flight, you wiped at your wet eyes. “I’m sorry,” you croaked, and Spencer just shook his head.

“No,” he insisted, taking your hand and placing it on his heart. You could feel it beating through his long-sleeved t-shirt. “No, you don’t have to be sorry.” You rubbed your hand against his chest, finding it comforting as you hung your head. “Baby, look at me,” he requested, and you met his eyes.

“Please don’t ever apologize for having an anxiety attack, okay? For one thing, it’s not your fault. You can’t control the chemicals and waves in your brain and how your body reacts to situations,” Spencer began, his hand on top of yours that rested on his chest. You nodded, using the heel of your free hand to wipe away your tears. The crying was over, you were fairly certain, but god, did this suck. “You also should never feel ashamed for having a panic attack, Y/N. It happened, and we’re working through it. It’s a lot like boiling a pot of water, isn’t it?”

You let out a garbled sounding laugh and your brows furrowed. “How so?” You stammered out.

“Well, you set the pot of water on the stove, right?” Spencer began, and you nodded. “And then when it starts to bubble, that’s your anxiety. Some sort of external stimulant - the stove, or, in your case, the overwhelming feeling of being in a crowd - is causing the water to bubble. And when the external stimulant increases in intensity, so too does your anxiety. And sometimes, yeah, the pot boils over.” Spencer shrugged like it was no big deal. “But then you just turn the stove off, grab a dishtowel, and clean up the mess. Problem solved.”

You cracked a half-hearted smile. “So in this metaphor, you’re a dishtowel?” You asked, curling your fingers around the fabric of his shirt.

“Technically, I think it’s a simile, but yes,” Spencer grinned as he looked in your eyes.

“But the book,” you sighed, looking back at the bookstore, which was still filtering people in and out slowly. The patrons leaving the store clutched their new copies of the book in their hands, grinning and taking pictures with their phones, laughing with their friends excitedly.

“Do you want to get back in line and try again?” Spencer asked, and you bit your cheek pensively.

“I don’t think so,” you said softly, defeatedly.

“That’s okay,” Spencer said. You loved that he wasn’t coddling you, he was just feeling it out, seeing what you were up for. “Do you want to get brunch somewhere and come back? Maybe the line will have died down by then?”

You nodded, your lips curling into a small smile. “Yeah,” you agreed. You realized your hand was still over his heart, rubbing at his chest. Your movement halted and you retracted your hand, but before your arm could fall completely at your side, Spencer scooped your hand up and kissed the back of your palm. “What if we come back and they’ve sold out of the book, though?” You asked as Spencer walked with you in the direction of one of your favorite brunch places, just a short walk from the bookstore.

“There are twenty-two independent bookstores in the D.C. metropolitan area alone,” Spencer rattled off. “If this one doesn’t have it, we’ll drive around until we find one that does.”

“What article did you read that told you how many bookstores were in D.C?” You asked. You often liked to challenge him by asking him to cite his sources.

“No article. I did a search on Google Maps last night,” Spencer explained.

“What, because you knew I’d freak out when we walked into this one?” You asked him.

Spencer shook his head. “No, just wanted to have a contingency plan in case our first stop sold out before we got there.”

“Always thinking ahead, huh, Boy Wonder?”

“Damn straight.” A smirk formed across Spencer’s lips.

You shook your head. “You’re the best dishtowel a girl could ask for.”

#spencer reid x fem!reader #criminal minds #spencer reid #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x y/n #basketonthedoorstepofthefbi #criminal minds spencer reid #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid x you #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid fanfics #spencer reid angst #spencer reid fluff

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sinimake · 5 months

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More Johnshi head canons!! (Thanks for enjoying the previous one)

Johnny's absolute favorite movie is a low-budget indie movie made by some students he once saw in a film festival as a pure serendipity. He never mentions this to anybody and usually says one of his own movies as his fav whenever he's asked

Kenshi is very good at apologies and owning up to his mistakes. Like he would list what he has done wrong, acknowledge the other's hurt feelings, and make change not to repeat his mistakes.

Johnny is an absolute perfectionist when it comes to his films. It is a nightmare to work with him on the sets bc he grinds scenes for an unnecessary amount of time until it satisfies him. But it's rectified by the fact he buys the crew lots of snacks, lunch, and drinks. Sometimes, he even comes in the morning with personalized coffees for everyone. It is so cute bc he has notes on his phone filled with people's preferences jotted down

Kenshi with a white cane ! More !!

Kenshi secretly likes doing blind jokes. He even sets people up for them to slip like "omg did u see that" and he be there like "no I'm blind"

Kenshi sleeps on his stomach sideways with his knee bent up, and Johnny sleeps on his back. They fit just right together

Kenshi uses Sento's power for all the wrong reasons in bed. There's always later awkwardness with his ancestors, but the sight of Johnny's blessed out o face makes everything so worth

Speaking of Sento, Johnny likes when Kenshi uses his telepathy on him. He can tell when his boyfriend is in his head by the pleasant tingling in the back of his mind. While Kenshi can't passively read every thought, but Sento helps him feel Johnny's emotions and sensations. Johnny loves to send him 'good vibes'

They are not mentally connected all the time, but they use telepathy during missions and in battle like a comm. Kenshi pays Johnny extra mind to be ready to help him if he needs it

Kenshi might not be fond of PDA but he's an absolute sweetheart behind the doors. Backhugs, kiss on neck and nape, arm around waist, caressing his hair and cheeks, holding hands, you name it, he likes to touch Johnny at every opportunity

On the flip side, Johnny must grope and slap Kenshi's ass playfully

Kenshi uses Johnny's home gym more than anyone and likes to hike around nature

Johnny knows Kenshi doesn't like social media so he only posts pics of Kenshi that doesn't show his face. When Johnny does live video, Kenshi sometimes talks to him in the background, and the fans absolutely love them together.

^ *bantering* K: well, why dont you say it to my face huh? J: *looks at him biting his lips* *then to camera* okay guys i gotta go *end of live stream*

When they got engaged, Johnny posted the ring on his finger on insta with a caption saying "Real Mr. Internation Love now ❤️"

#mk1 2023 #johnshi #johnny cage #johnny x kenshi #kenshi takahashi #mk1 #mortal kombat #mortal kombat 2023 #johnshi headcanon

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minervadashwood · 5 months

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The Truth

Bucky x F!Reader (plus size/curvy/heavyset) Tropes: Fantasy AU, friends to lovers, confessions CW: sex, burn injury Word count: 2.1K Summary:

Playboy Bucky Barnes keeps insisting that he loves you. But he is not a one-woman kind of man. Or so you think. Fantasy setting in which Bucky and you are part of a small group of adventurers. You're not a front line fighter but a savvy alchemist. Maker of potions, poultices, and traps. One day, some of your traps are compromised, and you get hurt. Bucky is not pleased.

Notes: Inspired by a dream I had and this gifset. There are a couple of Russian words in there, but they are translated in the story.

You were bent over your alchemy table when your bedroom door slammed open. In walked Bucky Barnes, dressed in only a towel tied at his waist.

You flushed, taking in his sculpted body, the dips and planes of his torso. Heat overwhelmed you, and it had nothing to do with the burns along your right arm.

“What the hell were you thinking?!” he demanded, stalking forward and taking your chin in his hand.

“The grenades were compromised!” You shouted back, twisting away from his grip. “ My grenades, Bucky! I sent you out there with something that could’ve killed Steve, Tony, Wanda. Maybe even you.”

Bucky stared you down, his chest rising and falling with his heavy breathing.

Suddenly, with inhuman speed, he lunged forward, grabbing your arm and yanking you against him. His skin was damp, like he’d just come from bathing. Steve must have told him what happened. That you broke formation to detonate your traps before they could hurt your team. Thankfully the only casualty was you. Your burns had been treated, wrapped in cloth, and were healing nicely.

“ Lisitsa ,” Bucky warned. “You can’t scare me like that.”

You rolled your eyes at the nickname. Vixen? Really? That might apply to all those women he bedded at taverns. Not you. Leave you to your potions, poultices, and fiery concoctions. Ved'ma would be more accurate. Witch .

You tried to twist out of his hold, but Bucky only gripped you tighter.

“You still don’t believe me, do you?” he growled.

“No, Buck, I don’t. You bed every woman who looks your way. There’s a different girl on your arm at every festival, every tavern crawl. How could I think that I’m any different? Shall I let you bed me and be done with it? So you can move on to your next conquest?”

You struggled in his arms, trying in vain to get away. Bucky easily controlled you, spinning you around, dragging you to your bed, and shoving you down on it.

You laid sideways, your butt at the edge, as you tried to scoot away from him. Bucky grabbed your legs, squeezing the generous, soft flesh of your thighs.

“There is no ‘next’ conquest, Lisitsa. Only you.” His towel fell away as Bucky made himself at home between your legs. With his strong hands and even stronger arms, he drew your legs apart, forcing your sarong open, revealing your lower half to him.

You froze in place, skin ablaze as his grip lessened and his hands trailed up your outer thighs, your hips, your sides. As he moved, he leaned over you, nestling his own hips to your pelvis, his taut stomach resting on your soft one, with his erection between you.

“If you won’t believe my words, then I will show you. Leave no doubt in your mind that I love you.”

“B-Bucky?” You whimpered, wetness gathering between your legs. He was a specimen of a warrior. Strong, agile, lethal. Of course you wanted him. He set your heart on fire, practically made your blood boil in your veins . But you couldn’t give in to him. If you did, he’d be gone before the morning, taking with him his sexy, enigmatic smiles, his heart-pattering winks, his insincere confessions of devotion.

Bucky grabbed your wrists and took them in one hand to hold them above your head. With his other hand, he swept away the rest of your clothing. Leaving you completely exposed.

“Stop it, Bucky,” you whispered, catching his eyes and holding his gaze. “You don’t love me. You can’t .”

A devastating smile graced his lips. “Why not, Lisitsa? How can I not love all of this? All of you?”

“B-b-because…” you faltered as he traced his nose along your cheek as, his deep inhalation audible; he was just so close. You, too, took a deep breath, steeling yourself to answer. “I’m nothing like them. The women you bed. I am more; I am too much. ”

Bucky growled, deep in his chest. The hand holding your wrists tightened, and again he took your chin in hand, gripping it tightly .

“My love, you are everything .”

You gasped as Bucky lowered his head and kissed you. Now, there was no denying your body’s reaction to him. You moaned and writhed, wishing your hands were free so you could bury them in his hair. Wriggling, you sought purchase on the bed, but Bucky’s hips and torso held you in place. The sheer strength of him captivated you, entranced you. You could only wrap your legs around his waist and welcome him closer to your core.

Long minutes passed as Bucky explored your mouth and you his. The man was voracious, but so were you, gasping and kissing, a paired clash of teeth, lips, and tongues: both of you desperate for more.

With a moan, Bucky eventually pulled away. “My Lisitsa,” he murmured, and rested his forehead on yours. Your eyes met again, and there he was, exposed, and soft…adoring. Was that the truth you saw in his eyes? Or another maneuver in his game? You’d seen him woo women, time and time again. Were you now just the next item on his ever-growing list?

“Don’t pull away, love,” he whispered, those soft, searching eyes pleaded.

“Do you mean it, Buck?”

“With every word, Lisitsa. ”

He held still, his breath arcing across your face, evidence of his desire growing more and more rigid as it was trapped between your bodies.

There would be no way to know for sure, not until morning. But you had him now . Why not take what you could, trapped in his arms?

You lifted your head slightly, seeking his mouth, and then Bucky devoured you. His tongue danced with yours. Gods how he tasted, how he felt . How he was the only thing in the world now, aside from you.

Every inhibition forgotten, you kissed him back, fiercely, and he finally let go of your wrists. Instantly your hands were in his damp, shaggy hair, clutching him close to you as months, years of repressed longing were brought to the surface.

As you kissed, Bucky’s hand skirted down your body until it cupped your sex. His fingers traced along your wet folds, forcing you to whimper into his mouth as he kissed you.

Bucky broke your lips apart, gasping in your face, his own cheeks and ears darkened, flushed.

“So soft and wet,” he told you, a single finger slipping between your folds and slowly stroking you. “Shall I stop now, love? Or do you believe me?”

“Please, Bucky,” you begged, angling your hips closer to his teasing hand.

He had the nerve, the absolute nerve to laugh at you, and back was that signature, indecipherable smirk. He kissed your nose, your chin, your jaw, and then his mouth was on your nipple, suckling and biting to send shockwaves of desire through you. You jolted beneath him, and then his teasing finger lingered at your entrance.

“Shh, doll, it’s all okay. You're mine now. Aren’t you?”

You nodded dumbly. “Yours, Buck.”

Bucky finally pushed his finger into you, and you sighed. The first finger was joined by a second, and Bucky hooked them both, moving languidly in and out until you were mewling, and whimpering, and begging, all in the same breath.

“That’s it, love,” he encouraged. “You look so beautiful right now, it hurts. I can’t wait. Not anymore.”

“Then don’t.” You tugged on his hair, insisting that he continue.

He removed his fingers, using them to coat his erection with your wetness. Then, he perched himself at your entrance, sliding in just a bit before he lowered himself on the bed, holding his weight on his elbows as his hands cupped your face.

“Believe me now?” he asked, thrusting into you.

You clenched around him, the sweet sensation of being filled by the man you’d denied for so long. It felt like he belonged there, inside of you, filling you, stretching you, loving you.

He moved quickly, and you matched your movements to his own, raising your hips and chasing after his thrusts.

Sweat soaked his body, and you grabbed every part of him you could reach as he made love to you. You gripped his arms and then caressed his chest. You sank your fingernails into his back as you neared your peak, as Bucky groaned and panted above you.

You were on the edge now, faster than you’d ever been before, all because of the man in your arms. “I’m going to come, Buck,” you rasped, voice strained because of all the pleasure coursing through you.

“Go ahead, love,” he told you, nibbling your ear. “I’ll be gentle next time. Take my time with you.”

Next time .

You came, the promise of his statement letting you rise and fall while surrounded by Bucky Barnes.

His thrusts grew sloppy, urgent, and Bucky groaned, capturing your lips with his own, as his movements slowed and he spilled himself inside you, coating your walls with his warm seed.

Your bodies remained joined, you gazing up at him, and Bucky, eyes wide, staring down at you. Then, Bucky gathered you up in his arms, lifting and arranging you easily on your bed so that you rested on top of him. Both your bodies were sweat-slicked and shivering from the aftershocks.

“Did you mean it?“ he asked you, holding your chin once again. “Are you mine?”

Apprehension, suppressed while Bucky had his way with you, rose again.

He must have seen it because Bucky softened his grip and ran his thumb on your cheek. “I’ll go Lisitsa, if you didn’t mean it. I’ll go and never speak of this again.”

You shook your head furiously, unable to bear the thought. “I meant it, Buck.”

“So do I, Love,” he mumbled, kissing your forehead, and held you close until you both fell asleep.

You woke some time later, your injured arm burning and crying out for another poultice and a clean cloth. As you attempted to sit up, you realized you were cocooned in a pair of arms, with a blanket draped over you.

“Mmmph,” Bucky grumbled sleepily. “What is it Lisitsa ?”

Your heart clenched. “You’re still here?”

“‘Course I am,” he answered, voice still groggy with sleep. “Why wouldn’t I be?”

“You never stay the night with them. With…the others.”

He sat up, pulling you with him, and the blankets pooled at your waists. Outside it was still dark, the stars glittering the night sky.

Bucky pulled you into his lap. “There are no others.” Threading his fingers through your hair, Bucky forced you to look at him. “There is only you. I promise.”

In the darkness, you could not see his eyes or his smile. You only had his words and the feel of his touch to guide you.

“My bandage needs changing,” you murmured, trying to slip off his lap to get your feet on the floor.

“What here,” he ordered, setting you on the mattress as he got off the bed.

“Buck, what are you--”

You heard the lighting of a match, then the soft glow of a candle filled your room. Bucky held it, and the tiny flame bounced off his body, casting shadows over his muscled form. He’d come into this room wearing only a towel, and he was barefoot and naked, making his way to your shelves of concoctions.

“Which bottle, Lisitsa ?”

“The green one, middle shelf.”

Bucky grabbed your healing poultice and a clean, rolled cloth, too, before returning to you. Unwrapping the cloth on your arm, Bucky tsk’d and sighed.

“No going where I can’t protect you. My heart can’t take it,” he said, focused on your injury. After setting the used cloth aside, Bucky scooped some of the poultice out of the jar and touched it to your arm.

You winced, not used to someone else taking care of you.

“Shush, love,” Bucky soothed. “It’ll feel better in a moment.”

Love . There it was again. He’d had what he wanted and still, he was here, tending to you, comforting you, loving you.

“There’s my good girl,” he encouraged, gently patting the poultice on your burns. He finished and put the lid back on the jar. You’d never seen him do such a thing. Not for Wanda, certainly not for Tony, not even for Steve. But he was doing it for you.

As he reached for the clean cloth bandage, you grabbed his elbow with your left hand and said, “I believe you, Buck.”

He gazed at you in the candlelight, it danced across his features the face of the man you’d loved for so long. And now you were finally ready to admit it.

“About time, Lisitsa . Now let me finish this so I can get back into bed with you.”

You let out a long-held breath as Bucky finished wrapping your injured arm. Bucky snuffed out the candle and found you in the darkness, crawling back into bed with and pulling you back into his arms.

Outside, the sky turned gray with the rising sun. It was morning.

#mdop #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x plus size reader #bucky barnes x curvy reader #plus size reader #curvy reader #bucky barnes #mcu #mcu fanfic #playboy bucky barnes

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valkyrayn · 4 months

Text

marius x reader | may all your christmases be white

tags: teasing. clothed sex. dirty talk. orgasm denial. pathetic & begging marius. marius is the christmas gift. handjob. blowjob. dick riding. overstimulation - mission to drain his balls basically. shameless porn. breeding kink (?) yes breeding kink. creampies. yes plural. unprotected sex. squirting. wet and messy. traumatising and defiling the christmas tree. i need church.

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“Babe, come look!”

Marius' voice, filled with excitement, echoes from the living room. You quickly wipe your hands on the apron, then slip it over your head.

After a brief inspection of the cookies through the oven window, you smile to yourself before turning on your heel to exit the kitchen, wondering what your fiance is so excited about.

You both had spent the evening decorating the living room with Christmas decorations, giving the living space the festive vibe that it needed. Tinsels and garlands draped along the mantelpiece, framing the modern fireplace with stockings with his name and yours embroidered on them in gold thread. The plush sofa beside it is draped in red throws and dark green pillows, its cosiness inviting you to lie in it.

And then there’s the scented candles filling the air with the comforting fragrance of spiced apples, now mingling with the scent of your cookies, wafting in from the kitchen.

Finally, your gaze settles on the six-foot Christmas tree, standing in the middle of the room. Once adorned with traditional red and green ornaments and tinsels from when you decorated it together—now carries subtle touches of purple, courtesy of your husband-to-be.

You circle it, taking in the enchanting view, and that's when you find him, reclining sideways beneath the tree.

“Merry Christmas, my love,” he smiles, innocently—all for two seconds before it turns into his signature smirk.

He's presented like a gift, much too sinful for Christmas—enveloped in stripes of red and green ribbons, complete with a bow. The silk ribbons wind around his torso, thighs, and neck, snug but impressively tight enough to secure his own wrists behind his back.

Leave it to Marius to take gift wrapping seriously.

You sink to your knees beside him, tugging lightly onto one of the loose ribbons, looking at him in curious amusement. “Are we unwrapping gifts tonight? Isn’t it a bit too early?”

With a smug smile, he winks and wiggles his body to move nearer to you. “You can open this one a bit earlier, I don’t mind.”

You raise an eyebrow, a matching smirk playing on your lips.

“Hmmmm…but what if I don’t want to?” You reach forward to play with the top button of his shirt, before popping it open. “What if I want to keep it all wrapped up?” You love that shirt on him—he looks so good in it because it hugs his body perfectly, accentuating his firm chest and arm muscles.

But then again, he looks good in anything, especially with nothing on.

“But jiejie…where’s the fun in that?” Marius attempts to sit up, but your palm abruptly stops him, pushing hard against his chest until his back is flat on the floor.

“Oh…there’s lots of fun in that.”

You lick your lips when his muscle flexes underneath your touch.

Shifting to straddle his thighs, your fingers tug at the tail of his shirt, freeing them from his pants before pushing it up his body. You trace your nails gently along his exposed skin, easily leaving red lines from how sensitive it is—while you relish in the sight of his abs rippling in response to your touch.

“Jiejie…?” he chuckles nervously, eyes narrowing as he watches your fingers move towards his zipper. With deft fingers, you reach in and pull his cock out of its confines—earning you a sharp hiss from him.

With his wrists pinned behind him, he struggles to free himself and you giggle in amusement at how he has put himself in that predicament. The frown on his face shows how frustrated he is with himself and you’re determined to add just a bit more to the madness.

It doesn’t take long for his cock to stiffen in your grasp, the head pink and leaking with pre-cum, begging to be licked. You wipe it with your thumb, smearing it down his length as you tighten your fist around him and begin stroking—gently, torturously slow.

Marius groans at the sight, eyes fixated on your small hand, pumping him up and down at that deliberate pace that drives him insane.

Briefly removing your hand from him, you spit into your palm before wrapping your hand around him again—the new wet and warm sensation makes his hips buck upwards involuntarily. You can see the desperation in his eyes, clouded with lustful urges to take control.

Patience has never been his strong suit, at least not when it comes to sex. Especially not when he’s on the receiving end of the teasing.

“How long do you think you can hold yourself back?”

He hisses at the feeling of your thumb tracing the vein on the underside of his cock. “Hold…myself?”

You give him a hard tug.

Marius’ eyes snap up to meet yours then, eyebrows raised.

“You’re always telling me not to cum…only when you tell me to…” you trail off, voice low, carrying a seductive lilt. “So…” You reach into his pants to knead his balls, heavy and twitching against your fingers.

“I wonder how long you’ll last…” You shift backwards, making space to lean forward—giving his swollen tip a teasing lick. “...before you break for me.”

“Fuck.”

His hips jerk upwards when your lips close around him. The warmth of your mouth welcomes his cock as it slides all the way in with practised ease, bumping against the back of your throat.

From both the suction of your mouth and your fingers pumping him, it’s impressive how he has not immediately exploded down your throat.

But there’s something about denying his orgasm that makes the experience so sexy. The desperation is etched on his face, aching to give in to the pleasure but also restraining himself, eager to please—or fearing to lose.

You did not miss the mumbled pleas leaving his lips.

“Did I just hear you beg, baby?” You tilt your head sideways teasingly, kissing the head of his cock before wrapping your lips tight around it. “Mmmmmm…” You moan deliberately, sending delicious vibrations through his body, making his cock throb against your tongue.

“…please—please…”

“Please what, Marius?” You pump his cock faster, watching as more pre-cum leak from the tip and mingling with your spit.

Gripping the base of his cock, you wrap your mouth around him again. The sudden warmth enveloping him made him throw his head back against the floor, hips arching towards the ceiling, shoving deeper into your mouth. Your saliva trails down his length and pools at the base.

“Fuck..please…please let me cum. Babe—”

Besides the sound of wet sucking and gags as you deepthroat him, you can also hear his ragged breathing and choked pleas. The obscenity of it all makes you cum untouched before you even realise it.

Releasing him with a pop, you give him a hard tug as you simultaneously shove your other hand down your skirt—flicking furiously at your aching clit with your fingers as you come apart before him.

“Oh—I’m cumm—Marius, cum for me. Cum, now.”

He came with a roar, body jerking uncontrollably against you while your fingers continue to pump his cock, feeling it violently twitch as he unloads all over your hand.

Ribbons of hot white semen shoot from the tip, and with no target lock, it gets everywhere—decorating your fingers, lips, his abs, chest and everything in the radius, including the poor Christmas tree, with his fluids. There’s so much of it, and your hand continues to milk him, even opening your mouth to capture some of it on your tongue.

Marius looks positively debauched beneath you; covered in his own cum, skin glistening with sweat, hair unkempt—and the once pretty bow, now crooked beyond repair. His eyes are clenched shut, jaw slack, as he releases a shuddering breath.

With no intention to let him rest, as he has done the same to you more times than you can count—you tug his pants down, shove your skirt and panties to your ankles then swiftly climb up his body. Marius' eyes widen as he watches you straddle him, your hair falling messily in front of you as you reach for him.

His barely softening cock stands fully erect once again when you grab him to line him up against your wet cunt.

“Babe…wait—”

The walls of your cunt stretch deliciously around his thick cock as you sink down onto his body—dragging another involuntary moan out of him. His eyes roll to the back of his head at the feeling of your tight walls gripping his overstimulated cock. He has barely recovered from his last orgasm, the final spurts still shooting from his tip, splashing against your walls.

The air feels too hot so you quickly fumble to unbutton your blouse, tugging it open to free your tits. He groans at the sight of your exposed breasts, your nipples harden under his hungry stare, feral and bordering on unhinged.

The absence of control takes its toll on a man, particularly on one Marius von Hagen.

Wonder what the employees of Pax would think if they ever saw their precious young CEO like this. The pretty flush on his cheeks, the narrow slits of his eyes as he wills himself from blacking out from overstimulation and the occasional whining sounds leaving his lips, pleading for your mercy.

You take a mental picture, carving it into your memory for future use when he leaves for yet another week-long business trip.

Planting your palms against his chest, you roll your hips against him to take him deeper. With some effort, he props his arms against the floor to arch his hips upwards to meet yours, pumping his cock into you until you both find a rhythm.

His eyes are fixated on your joined bodies—every sheathe and pull coats his cock with more of your cream, now mixing with some of his fluids. Its messy and erotic sight is an invitation for him to succumb to another brain-numbing release but a brief snap of reality suddenly kicks in, even though he’s barely keeping it together to form coherent words.

“Baby, fuck. We didn’t use a condom—”

You slam yourself down onto him, dragging a choked groan from him and cutting him off mid-sentence. You lean forward, pressing your tits against his clothed chest and kisses the underside of his jaw.

“It’s okay.” You press a soft kiss against the corner of his mouth. “You can cum inside.”

Marius tilts his head slightly to meet your gaze, looking for confirmation, almost in disbelief, only because he knows you’re not on the pill as you normally are.

“…you sure?”

“Marius, I want to feel you inside me.” The words leave you with no hesitation. “No barriers. It’s umm–my Christmas gift to you…” You trail, rubbing your thumb across his lower lip. “Breed me like you always said you would.”

“Oh fuck…”

His chest heaves, mind reeling at your request of which he is more than happy to oblige. He wrestles with the ribbons around him, loosening them just enough so he can adjust himself to an angle that allows him to fuck you deeper.

“I can’t believe you’re asking me to breed you while I’m all tied up…this isn’t fair.”

You chuckle, trailing your nails down his firm chest, and deftly undoing the remaining buttons of his shirt. You grab onto the ribbons around his neck, holding onto them like reins as you settle back into your seating position.

“You tied yourself up, Marius.”

He lets out a frustrated grunt, and thrusts up into you, shoving his cock right against your cervix. You scream at the rough intrusion, driving you close to another orgasm.

Your tits bounce wildly as he starts fucking you faster and he savours the sight of your lewd body, naked and slick with sweat and cum—and he’s desperate to taste you. With a press of his palms against the floor, he pushes himself up into a seating position and then greedily latches onto your nipple.

“Marius…oh…” Your body jerks against him, pressing yourself further into his mouth. He swirls his tongue around your stiff peak, tugging it gently between his teeth then releasing it with a wet pop before giving the other the same attention until they’re both red and swollen.

“Marius…I’m going to—cum…” With his mouth sucking on your tits, swollen clit rubbing against him and thick cock pumping in and out of you in quick hard thrusts, it’s nearly impossible not to come undone again so soon after the last one.

“I want to feel your cunt squeeze me when you cum. Do it now, baby…now.” He takes your nipple in his mouth again in one hard suck, it sends you hurtling towards a screaming orgasm.

“Yessss…just like that baby….”

His name echoes into the ceiling, moans morphing into unrestrained, loud screams.

“I’m gonna—fucking cum too—holy shit!” A deep rumbling groan escapes his throat, as you cum together, fluids gushing out of you while he empties every single drop inside you in hot spurts.

You collapse onto him, moaning into his mouth as you continue to ride the euphoria—your body trembling uncontrollably, pussy throbbing and squeezing around him, coaxing more cum from him.

Fluids, yours and his, pool beneath you, leaking messily past your joined flesh, and onto the, fuck, carpet. You roll your hips against him, clenching your walls deliberately around his cock and he halts mid-kiss to hiss against your lips.

“Are you trying to drain me?” He asks between ragged breaths, chest heaving and pressing against your oversensitive nipples.

“Mm-hmm. Every single drop.”

“Fuck…”

You raise your hips until his cock slips out of you.

Through half-lidded eyes, he watches as you spread your folds apart with your fingers, letting the combined release drip onto his navel and slide down his skin. You start fingering yourself and making a show of dipping your fingers inside and pushing it deeper.

A breathless ‘fuck’ leave his lips and he slams his head back onto the floor, eyes rolling back.

His cock, despite twitching and weeping from overstimulation, is still stiff—to no one’s surprise. Two is a weak number by his standards. His love for extreme sports is really just a facade for his deep-seated obsession with having more. More adrenaline, more thrill, excitement, and more release—from rounds of vigorous fucking.

So despite the risk of a chafed cock, his greediness to fill you to the brim ultimately consumes him. With your combined fluids as lube, he starts fucking you again—starting with slow thrusting until his strength finds him once more.

You turn around until your back is to him, settling on your knees again to straddle his thighs.

The loosening ribbons around him allow him some space to move. He struggles out of the restraints, not completely but just enough to free his arms from under him. You feel him grab your ass cheeks, spreading them to watch his cock sink into you. The first sheathe will never fail to drag that sexy, rumbling groan out of him—music to your ears.

You pull out completely, leaving only his tip in and then slowly, in a teasing, undulating motion, sink back onto his cock in one quick swoop.

The final thread of his patience snaps.

And suddenly he’s slamming into you with a speed you aren’t prepared for.

Rough.

Frenzied.

You gasp, his hard thrusts send you lurching forward onto his knees, clutching onto his legs, nails sinking into his skin.

“You’re fucking me so good…Marius—yes…yes!”

“Jiejie…shit—your pussy is squeezing me so tight.”

The fat of your ass smacks loudly against his pelvis, cum pulling and snapping, making a mess on his thighs. He inserts a thumb into your hole, joining his thrusting cock. Your body jolts at the fullness, feeling stretched to the limit as if he’s going to rip you apart.

“I’m going to fill this hole until you can’t take any more…”

“Yes please…”

The smell of sweat-slicked bodies and sex fills the air, overpowering the smell of scented candles.

Marius raises his knees to force you to lie on your back, flat against his chest. One hand snakes up your front to squeeze your breast while the other finds your throat, fingers wrapping themselves around your neck.

Anchoring his strong legs on the floor, he finally finds an angle that allows him to penetrate his cock even deeper that you can almost feel him in your lungs.

“Oh—you’re so deep inside me.”

He hisses through gritted teeth. “You’re gonna kill me, babe. You’re so fucking horny…”

“It’s your…fault…nngghh…”

“Your pussy is gonna feel this tomorrow morning.” He whispers, dipping his mouth near you to lick the skin beneath your earlobe.

“Mmm...so is your dick.”

Your tits bounce heavily from his hard pounding, with no signs of him faltering—determined to drag more orgasms out of you, until your eyes cross.

The frenzied fucking seem to have moved you both further across the floor, closer to the Christmas tree. The soft tinkling and jingling noises that you hear are coming from the ornaments colliding and brushing against each other, stirred by the movement of the carpet beneath it.

The lewd sound of his balls slapping against your skin drags another lusty moan out of you. You feel drenched and filthy from the cum leaking messily between your bodies.

“Babe—turn around, please. Want to see—your face when I—cum inside you.”

Everything happens in quick succession. You turn around and impale yourself with him, he arches his back and slams back into your sex in hard thrusts.

The jingling sounds of ornaments and the loud wet smacking of skin mingle and reverberate throughout the room. Your jaw slack, stuck open in a silent scream—body thrashing above him as your walls clench him in a vice grip.

His hard fast fucking is too much—the restraints starting to loosen and fall around him at his harsh movement. You can feel his cock pound straight into your cervix.

With one final strength, you pin his arms against the floor on either side of him, putting your weight on his body and start slamming your ass down to meet his thrusts, fighting for dominance.

Marius curses into the ceiling. You lunge forward and slam your mouth against his in a bruising kiss—a clashing of teeth and tongue, tugging of lips until they’re swollen. Strands of saliva hang between you as you briefly part, gasping for air, breathing into each other.

“Baby...say it—again. Please…want to—hear you—say it.” He whispers, half whining in broken sentences, hot breath brushing against your chin.

“Cum inside me. Fill me up, Marius.”

“Oh—god…”

Loud moans leave your mouths in unison as he slams into you in quick punishing thrusts before coming straight into your womb, cock twitching and pulsing, cum spurting and coating your walls.

Wild overwhelming pleasure courses through you like fucking electric. And with your inhibition out the window, you lean back and circle your throbbing clit rapidly, pushing to the edge. You come squirting all over him, harder than before—messier than before.

Holy fuck.

“Oh fuck—babe! Oh shit—cum all over me…yes. Fuck!” Marius' vision blurs as he watches the fluids gush out of you. He’s drenched. His expensive shirt is soaked with your juices, sticking to his skin.

The obscene amount of fluids combined leaves a huge mess between you, skin and thighs sticking together. The lewd squelching sounds of your absolutely drenched cunt lull your brain back to life, after what seemed like a whole body shut-down.

La petite mort. The French knew what they were talking about because it does in fact, feel like little death.

The minutes feel like hours as you lay there on top of him, calmed by the rise and fall of his chest. Struggling against the ribbons, he manages to sit up, bringing you with him with arms wrapped around your limp body. He presses his forehead against yours, breath and sweat mingling.

Marius captures your lips in a soft kiss. You sigh contentedly into his mouth, eyes fluttering closed as you bask in the bliss of the aftermath. He’s always gentle at the after, peppering kisses and whispering sweet nothings against your skin, ever the lovesick fool. Your lovesick fool.

“Best Christmas gift ever.” You hum against his lips. He hums back in agreement, dipping his head to nip at your jaw.

“The poor Christmas tree though. We defiled it, babe.”

Your head jerks to look at it. A few of the ornaments, tinsel, and an angel had fallen off the branches, now strewn across the carpet amongst the heap of other messes that your rough sex left in its wake. The carpet is—ruined. At least not in a way where outsiders would know, oh but you, you would know.

Some of the leaves are still dripping with fluids and at that point, you can’t even tell whose anymore. Horrified yet amused—you bury your face against his neck and laugh.

“We’ll have to redecorate. And replace some of these, don’t we?” You say, picking up the angel with your fingers.

“I say it’s worth it. Fuckin’ around the Christmas tree…even the song tells you to do it.”

“Marius…it’s ‘rockin’ around.’

He shrugs, grinning. Potay-to po-ta-to.

You groan against his skin in both frustration and embarrassment. He laughs but it quickly dies down. Your eyes widen to find him tilting his head to the side, eyes narrowed in slits at the ceiling.

“Babe…do I smell burning?”

“THE COOKIES!”

#brainrot #brainrotdump #tears of themis smut #marius von hagen smut #lu jinghe smut

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