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yndrgrl · 2 months

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for some reason, your enemy, yandere! katsuki bakugo, is oddly possessive over you

lowkey yandere! reader. smut. fem!reader. regular au. enemies (with benefits) to lovers. virgin! reader mentioned. jealous! bakugo. lowkey! angst the highkey! fluff.

warnings: nsfw, mentions of virginity being taken by katsuki, public sex stuff, tit fucking, degrading, free use, oral (fem receiving), rough fucking, choking, masochism??

a/n: should i start doing more drabbles & headcannons or do you guys like the long fics?

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katsuki loves seeing you angry.

it's such a strict contrast, really. you're usually calm, put together, level-headed with a hint of dark humor & sarcasm. you seemed like you had unweavering patience when it came to the daily annoyances from stubbing your toe to helping a student that couldn't seem to grasp a subject, no matter how many times you tried explaining it.

the only person who could get under your skin was a certain, arrogant classmate who always had something to say. he would never say anything absurdly rude, but it would always get on your nerves. "the back of your shirt isn't tucked in, dumbass." "your lip gloss color is too bright on you, fuckin' idiot." "there's an easier way to do that, stupid."

maybe it was the tone he gave you-- condescending. maybe it was the way he was so predictable, always following up with a coy smirk. you didn't know why he was the only one to irk you, but you do know one thing, you hate him.

& he hates you.

yet for some reason, you two know more about each other than anyone else. you know how much katsuki hates sweet things, so you'll dump half a bottle of that cheap teriyaki sauce that tastes like artificial sweetener into his spicy ramen when he's cooking. he knows how you have your backpack organized, so he'll purposefully put things into the wrong place just to annoy you.

you two were obvious rivals in almost all aspects of life, & yet the two of you are attached by the hip. he was always in your dorm room while you did your homework, blowing on your ear or messing with stuff he knows he's not supposed to. you would find yourself in the gym with him late at night, sitting on the floor as you watched him to an exercise you didn't wanna do.

your friends would always ask about him, which was another way he would get on your nerves. even when he's not there, his name would get thrown around. "so, (y/n), when are you & bakugo gonna make it official," snickered jiro.

"yeah! we wanna know," momo chimed in. you've had this conversation with anyone who knew you & bakugo, & your answer was always the same.

"NEVER!"

the funny thing about "never" is that it means you, at no time in the future or in the past or on any occasion, would ever, ever even glance at bakugo with any sort of care or attraction. "never" means the only look you'd throw his way is a glare.

yet, there you were, under him, contradicting "never." this arrangement -secret rendezvous & lustful activities- happened a few weeks ago, you remember it so vividly. it was a late night, & you & bakugo were dead tired after training (aka fighting non-stop) with each other for hours followed by studying at his dorm. the two of you weren't done until late, so you told him that you were going to stay in his dorm whether he liked it or not.

another snarky argument ensued, which mellowed into vulnerable confessions. you told him you've never had a partner because you've never had any intimate experience before, so how would you even cope? that night, you lost your virginity to your enemy, & it was so addictive.

after that, your guys' dynamic didn't change outwardly. if people paid attentions a bit more, they would've seen the two of you holding pinkies during lunch. he would sit a tad bit closer in class. it's a good thing you've been wearing your hair down because your neck was covered in hickies.

today, katsuki was even more annoying than he has been the last year. something was coursing through his veins. he was so much more daring, so much more of a bully today.

it started when you woke up in his bed, naked after a night of taboo touches. even last night, he was different, something on his mind. groggily, katsuki shot you a lazy smirk. his fingertips ghosted over your exposed skin while you laid on his bare chest. goosebumps followed in his fingers' wake. you laid there for a moment longer then said, "we should probably get ready for school."

"hm.."

"what?"

"i just need something taken care of, (y/n)," said katsuki, voice deep. you felt him against your thigh that was draped across his hips.

"k-katsuki, we-we can't," you blushed. your protests went unanswered as he started to mark your neck. his love bites trailed around your neck, down to your collarbone.

"shhh, just relax," katsuki whispered as he groped your tits. as quickly as he removed his hand, it was replaced by his mouth, suckling on your nipple; his fingers pinched the other. his free hand dove between your legs.

"katsuki!" you gasped, pussy still sore from last night. you couldn't help but grind your clit against his palm while his fingers were knuckle-deep and pressing against your g-spot. "go-gonna cum," you moaned out, & it was like a switch flipped inside of katsuki.

he pulled his fingers out of your dripping cunt. climbing atop of you, katsuki sneered"didn't i tell you quiet?" he shoved his fingers coated in your juices down your throat, making you gargle in surprise.

his heavy cock laid between your hickey-covered tits. "press your tits together," he commanded. you must've given him a confused look because he instructed sternly, "use your hand & fuckin' press your tits around my cock, nerd." oh god, how he made you so mad. you couldn't even tell him off.

that morning, he finished all over your face & tits. he smacked your cheek a couple of times with his semi-hard cock before getting off of your body to get a towel for you.

the two of you sat in aizawa's class, next to each other, like you didn't have to wash katsuki's cum out of your hair just before school started. what was embarrassing was that your friends (bless their sweet, sweet souls) complimented you, which wasn't out of the norm. however, they were gushing about how your skin was absolutely glowing.

katsuki, knowingly, shot you look of pride. he is truly the worst.

the next period came & went, & then you were stuck in another class with katsuki. your teacher decided that they were sick & tired of the regular routine, so they led the class to the library. they essentially said, "run wild, don't leave the library, & leave me to my own devices."

it's not like you were complaining; you've been wanted to pick up a new book to read so you browsed the aisles. were you also avoiding katsuki? a bit. today, especially, he was just too much. his unfortunately well-placed cockiness & his eagerness to get his hands all over you was a deadly combination.

as your eyes darted from the selection of books, the one you wanted just so happened to be on the top shelf. it wasn't unreachable to you, but it was an inconvenience. you creased your shoes as you went on the tips of your toes, trying to get a grasp of the book when a larger, familiar hand gripped yours. standing behind was katsuki, towering over you. out of instinct, you retracted your hand away, & he grabbed the book

you were about to say thank you when he placed it on top of the shelf. you could barely even see it, so there way no way you were going to be able to reach it. "i want to read that," you deadpanned, trying to turn around but katsuki's hands were on your shoulders. "h-hey, you're not doing what..." your voice trailed off.

his hands glided down your shoulders, caressing the curve of your figure, then stopped at the hem of your skirt. "are you crazy?!" you whisper-shouted at the blonde, to which he just scoffed.

he unbuckled his belt, unzipped his pants, & all you heard was rustling of fabric. he flipped your skirt up, covering his erect cock with it. sandwiched between your thick ass, he started to grind against you. "then stop me," katsuki whispered into your ear. he brushed your hair away from your neck & blew on your sensitive bruises forming on your skin. "just don't be too loud~ you don't wanna get in trouble, do you?" he snickered, pushing your panties to the side. katsuki shoved his girthy cock inside of your hole, stretching your already-aching walls.

you slapped your hands over your mouth to muffle your gasp. you could hear students, your classmates, talk all around the library. sure, you were tucked away on the second floor in a quiet corner, but you were still in public.

he started rutting his hips against you, shallow & uneven. he was testing the waters to see how far you'd let him go. with the fear of getting caught & utter adrenaline pumping through you, you tried to push away katsuki. his response was to pin your hands against the book shelf & pound your dripping pussy. soft smacks were only heard by you two, no one else close enough to hear the huffs & the mewls.

they say keep your friends close, & your enemies closer, & maybe you've taken that to heart. now, katsuki, your sworn enemy, knows your body inside & out. he knows how much you love being manhandled, which is why he made you arch your back as held your arms above your head while he thrusted in & out of you.

your pussy twitches, as it does every time when you're about to lose yourself in the pleasure, & katsuki knows this too. you were chasing your high, your eyes lulled to the back of your head when, suddenly, he pulled out. "k-katsuki!" you groaned in annoyance & shock. he was a selfish person with the stamina of a sex god. you'd usually cum several times all over his cock before he'd ejaculate inside you.

he flashed you his signature smirk as he wiped his dick with your navy blue skirt. he zipped his pants back up & redid his belt. with a shrug, he sauntered away, & you were left with a knot in your stomach, ratty hair, & frustration bubbling inside of you.

you were not going to entertain whatever sick fantasy he was trying to fulfill. you avoided him the best you could, however the two of you shared pretty much every class together. purposefully, you'd be the last one to class so you wouldn't have to sit beside katsuki. it always landed you in the front of the class, & you could feel his gaze burning holes in the back of your head, but it didn't matter. distance is what he deserved.

you were so mad at him that you didn't even want to look his way, you didn't want to be in his general vicinity.

the moment you saw him notice you, you would walk away from him. your plan was working to your favor until the evening. katsuki & you had very similar day-to-day routines. because you were always stealing portions of katsuki's food in the evening, your stomach began to grumble like clockwork. however, the moment you go downstairs, you would have to confront katsuki.

between the hunger you felt & your distain for the blonde, your hunger felt insatiable-- unfortunately for you. it was hard to ignore because you, while trying to avoid katsuki, skipped your regular meals. all you have in your room is an empty mini fridge, a water dispenser, & a couple of snacks that won't do anything but upset your stomach.

"ughhh," you let out a groan, getting out of the comfort of your bed. you slipped on a pair of pj pants over your spandex shorts & house slippers, prepared to tell katsuki off while stuffing your face with the food he's cooked.

knock. knock.

you jumped, almost letting out a shocked gasp. "oi! open up, stupid!" it was katsuki on the other side of your dorm door. you held your breath... maybe he hasn't heard you yet? "i know you're in there!"

"goddamn it, katsuki! go away," you shouted back as you walked towards your door. you looked through your peephole, only to see an agitated katsuki holding onto something.

"would you stop being a fuckin' child & open the door?"

"no, you're the childish one! get out of here, & go suck midoriya's dick!" just as katsuki can effortlessly get under your skin, you can do the same with him.

he punched your door, which sent vibrations around the door & frame. "you're such a fuckin' kid, (y/n)! i know this is 'cuz i didn't let you cum all over my co-"

abrasive, you threw open your door & dragged the loud-mouth into your room. your hand threw itself over his mouth as you seethed, "would you shut your damn mouth, people can hear you." under your hand, he smirked & kissed the palm of your hand. you tried to pull away with an embarrassed blush, but he gripped your wrist to keep you in place.

he kept leaving butterfly kissed on your palm, maintaining eye contact with you. each gentle kiss shot tinges of pleasure through your nerves. "wh-what are you doing?"

"you're so sensitive, y'know," he responded, kissing up your arm while pulling your closer to him. since when was katsuki this affectionate? your eyes glossed over slightly as he trailed kissed up your arm. sighs of content escaped your plush lips when he started to kiss your collarbone. something brushed against your leg, & that's when you noticed him holding something.

"wh-what is that?" you asked, dragging your nails down his arm that was gripping it. goosebumps appeared all over his arm, & he tensed up.

he cleared his throat. he pulled away from you, &, if you didn't know any better, it seemed as though he were nervous. "it's the reason i'm here in the first place," he grumbled, avoiding eye contact. it was a box wrapped in an all-might cloth.

"oh, you mean you're not just here to torment me & use me," you shot back. you were still so, so angry with him.

he looked at you, eyes wide. "what the hell are you goin' on about, woman?"

you were about to tell him off, all your pent-up frustration about to spill out of your throat when you were cut off by a distinct grumble-- your stomach. katsuki scoffed, but it was clear what you said played over & over in his mind. "it doesn't matter right now, just eat." he shoved the cloth into your hand & sat on your bed; you followed in suit.

unwrapping it by pulling the knot, it came undone to reveal two dark wood bento boxes, two pairs of chopsticks, & two spoons. he took the utensils off the top to place them on the fabric & opened the top bento to give to you. decorated beautifully (& almost intimately) was a homemade bento with onigiri shaped in the traditional triangle along with your favorite protein with pieces of bell peppers, carrots, & other veggies cut into the shapes of hearts & stars. your rice ball had a cute cat face made out of seaweed. you bursted out in laughter, "wh-what is all this!?"

"shut up, asshole!" face flushed, katsuki yelled. "i fuckin' care about you or whatever." your laughter died down, taking in the words he was saying. "when you didn't eat lunch or come train with me or go get a pastry at that one god-awful cafe, i knew i pushed you too far."

"you think?" you retorted as your tapped the tips of your chopsticks against the bento. he took his & took off the lid to reveal his: scraps. it was enough to make him full, but it wasn't as pretty as yours. it was all just thrown in there without a care. the middle of his carrots & bell peppers had heart-shaped holes cut out of them. while your sauce was in a small container to avoid your food getting soggy, his was tossed in there, coating everything. his onigiri was just a ball with the classic seaweed strip.

"learn to shut up for once, will ya?! god, i made you food, so could you just sit there & look pretty & just listen?"

"fine, say what you wanna say," you huffed, taking a bite out of your food.

"listen, (y/n)," he started, "i know i'm harsh & not the best, & i get why you hate me, but i'm not trying to use you. yeah, i like that you & i do the nastiest shit together, but i also like just... walking around with you. you might think that it's just 'cuz i wanna get in your pants, but i couldn't care less about that shit. i don't know, i'm just, i'm sorry, alright?" this rant was so uncharacteristically not him but him at the same time. he was vulgar, yet vulnerable. he apologized.

"katsuki..."

"& i was just messin' with you 'cuz damn raccoon eyes told me that dunceface was gonna ask you out. i know that we're just doing stuff so you'll feel more confident in, i don't know, fucking, but i don't want you with anyone else. i messed up, i know. i just... d'know, i just want you to yearn for me as much as i need you."

"katsuki," you called out. "c-can i admit something to you?"

"what is it?"

"i really like you." a suddenly quiet ensued. katsuki, the guy who always had a snappy comeback, was speechless, & it made your throat tighten.

"(y/n), seriously, don't mess with me-"

"i'm not!" you yelled, but you weren't upset. "the reason i was so mad at you was because i felt used... i don't like feeling like that, especially since i really, really like you. all the stuff we do together let's me be delusional & pretend we're dating. & it's hard to stop because you're just so... doting in your own way. but then today, you didn't wanna make me, you know, so i just thought-"

"we'll that's what you get for thinking," katsuki teased, placing his & your finished bento on your desk. he sat close beside you; if you were to turn your head, your lips would've been centimeters away from his. it's not like you guys haven't kissed before, but this time was different. it felt like the first time all over again.

"(y/n), look at me," he whispered into your ear. you shifted in your spot, but you did as you were told. facing him, you backed your head up, only for it to be stopped by your headboard. "i'm so sorry, angel. let me make it up to you."

"katsuki, i-it's okay-" you were cut off.

he hushed you, eyes half-lidded & clouded with lust. "you'd think by now you'd learn your lesson about shuttin' up, huh?" he said as his hands slid under your shirt, up your torso. you raised your arms, allowing him to take off your shirt. under his breath, he whispered, "fuck."

katsuki climbed in between your legs, looming over your figure. he kissed the valley between your breasts while his arm snaked around your body. with one hand, he unclasped your bra. you threw it onto your dorm floor, & he wasted no time to latch onto your tit. he swirled your perky nipple around his tongue. you squirmed under him, your pants, shorts, & panties joined your bra

to take a moment to breathe, katsuki pulled back, & you, as eager & as horny as ever, ripped off his shirt. "woah, someone's impatient."

"you piss me off, let me have this," you snarled back, a possessive tone in your voice. katsuki made a note to himself: edge you as much as humanly possible. you pulled him close to you. sure, you crushed your face against his chest when you did so, but you didn't care. you started to nip at his exposed skin. hickeys crawled up his chest, decorating his collarbone & creeping onto his neck.

"sh-shit, angel," he breathed out. against your thigh, you felt his clothed dick twitch with every bite. he pushed you away from his bruised skin with a gentleness, his tongue trailing down his body. & just like that, he was the dominate one again.

katsuki, spreading your legs wide for him, placed your legs on his shoulders. your thighs could crush his skull if you so pleased. "you're dripping, (y/n)~" he snickered, followed by a long, slow lick against your slit. you gasped out in shock, back arching out of instinct.

"m-more," you whined. he chuckled that sinister chuckle he always does when he's about to say the most annoying shit ever.

"ask nicely."

"katsuki," you said in a stern voice. you didn't want him at that moment, no, no, no. you needed him. you needed him to make you cum; you needed his stupidly talented tongue on your pussy. you needed to be destroyed by his dumb, heavy cock. "i'm not playing around."

"i'm not either, (y/n). just swallow your damn pride & ask like a good girl, hm?" he replied as he spread your pussy lips apart with his thumbs, blowing cool air on your clit. you two bantered the way you usually do, as though he weren't in between your legs, mouth ghosting against your weeping hole.

you knew he wasn't going to let up, so you swallowed thickly. "k-katsuki?"

"yes?"

"pl-please eat me out," you begged. you looked at him with faux tears welling in your bright, doe eyes.

"how could i say no when you look at me like that, sweet girl," exasperated katsuki, acting like he was doing you a favor when, in reality, he was a selfish man. he loved eating you out, he loved watching you wraith in pleasure, hand clasped over your mouth as cute, little moans escaped your quivering lips. if anything, it got him rock hard & throbbing.

it started out with kisses against your clit, like it always does. soon, the kisses turned into licks & sucks. your hands found themselves entangled in his unruly, platinum hair, & your hips bucked forward. you rubbed your clit against him. one hand started to tease your entrance while he flicked your clit with his tongue. your juices with his drool made it easy to slide his middle & ring finger inside of you.

as if you were holding in a breath, you exhaled in relief. his fingers pumped in & out of you while his tongue circled your bud. the all-to-familiar knot began to form in your stomach. "g-gunna cum!" you whisper-shouted, back still arched & head thrown back. for a second, your vision turned white as you creamed all over katsuki's face. he lapped your juices up like it was an elixir given to him by the gods. overstimulated, you thought he would pull away after cleaning you, but he relented.

that's what you get for thinking.

"hey, wh-what are you doing?" you gasped out as you propped yourself up with your elbows. this time, instead of attacking your clit, his tongue jetted in & out of your hole. he didn't say anything, only looking up at you with his ruby red eyes. you found yourself bucking your hips onto his face once more, finding pleasure in the friction. every time you would look away, he would slow down or stop completely. you came, then came, then came again.

after the fourth time, he finally stopped. you took a deep breath, your frustrations wiped away. "f-fine, you win. y-you made it u-up to me," you stuttered out as you tried to steady your heart rate. your eyes were closed, & your chest heaved with every breath you took.

"why do you look so comfortable? we're not done yet, angel," katsuki growled, & that's when you felt it; his tip running up & down your folds. your eyes snapped open, & your jaw dropped. he eased inside of your pussy, which sucked him in eagerly. you felt full, stretched, yet he was only half way in. he snapped his hips forward, covering your mouth because, every time he does that, you'll let out a droned-out moan.

the fact that he's made you lose your unwavering, cool composure made him feral. you're dripping wet all because of him. you were sucking him in so good. his eyes were trained on your gorgeous face, your eyes were half-lidded, tearing up. whimpers muffled by his large hand made his cock twitch inside you. the way your body looked as you took him in full was the reason he can't let anyone else have you. honestly & truly, you made him crazy.

he showed this in this thrusts. they were harsh, tip slamming against your cervix. as he pumped in & out of your pussy, he uncovered your mouth, his hand travelled down to your neck. with a firm grip, he cut off your airway. your tongue hung out of your mouth as you panted like a bitch in heat. fast & hard, your body jerked forward with each one of his rough thrusts.

choked out mewls escaped your lips, & your eyes rolled to the back of your head. you were about to pass out when he released your throat. you gasped. with every exhale, you couldn't stop yourself from moaning out his name. "k-katsuki~ k-kat-m~"

"such a good fuck," growled katsuki. he draped your legs over his shoulders. the blonde, smirking viciously, loomed over you, leaning forward. your knees were against your bare chest, you feet passed your head. you were folded in half, powerless. all you could do is squirm, cry out his name, & let him pound the shit out of your pretty pussy.

he held himself over you with one hand. his other cupped your face. he squished your cheeks together so your lips would pucker. "you're such a fuckin' pretty asshole," he chuckled. "you know how many guys wanna piece of you? none of 'em get t' have you though, that's all my privilege," katsuki gloated, his voice sounded muffled yet so clear. you tried responding but all that came out were lewd moans

he let go of your face as his thrusts started to become erratic. his grunts were animalistic, the sound of skin slapping skin echoed off the thin walls. possessively, he growled sweet nothings into your ear, & you had to bite back your screams of pleasure. at this point, you felt so good that you couldn't even begin to care about who might find out. hell, even if someone told aizawa that the two of you were breaking rules, you would tell him to scold you the next day.

"c-cum," you rasped, your legs sore from being folded. you squirmed under him to find some comfort for your legs. you tried pushing him away, yet you still chased your high. was the pain turning you on? there's no way.

"tch, cum, you fuckin' brat," commanded katsuki, & it was clear he wouldn't let you change positions until you creamed all over his thick cock.

"c-cumming!" your legs shook as your walls spasmed around katsuki. you heard him curse under his breath, his dick twitched inside you.

"gon-gonna fill you up, 'k?" he told you, all you could do is weakly nod. for a moment, he didn't care about your pleasure. he had one mission, & that was to use you so he could cum. he was treating you like a toy. your legs fell near his hips, but you couldn't find the strength to wrap your legs around him. gripping your hips, he moved you up & down his dick like you were a fleshlight.

"you're such a naughty girl, (y/n)~ everyone's gon' know that y'er all mine," he told your through gritted teeth. he didn't wait for a response, groaning loudly. "take it, fuckin' take it, baby," he said as he slammed his cock inside of you before his thrusts became needy, shallow. hot ropes of his cum painted the walls of your pussy. with the entirety of his cock inside you, his cum seeped out of you, dripping onto your duvet.

you felt your heartbeat in your core, & you struggled to catch your breath. he captured your lips in a passionate kiss, it was so unlike him. since when has anyone described katsuki bakugo as gentle? yet here he was, tending to you, cleaning you up & giving you soft kisses on your plush lips. "you okay, babe?" he questioned, just a hint of snarky pride behind his tone.

"y-yeah," you stuttered out, stretching your your legs. they quivered with every movement, & your face was flushed with embarrassment. he scooped you up with one arm while the other swiped the duvet off your bed. he tossed it in your dirty laundry hamper. your arms were around his neck as you cuddled into his bare chest when you told him, "you were just rough is all."

he laid the two of you down, covering you with your fluffy, (what you dubbed) "emergency" blanket. he started to scratch your head, & your eyes felt droopy. "i'm sorry, sweet girl. was i too rough?"

"no," you sighed with a smile. "i can handle it."

"yeah, i'm sure you can."

"i can! i just proved it to you!" you retorted, your eyes closing.

"whatever."

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dilemmaontwolegs · 9 months

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Dead Man Walking || LN4 {2}

Pairing: Lando Norris x fem!reader Summary: Christmas with the Norris’ is a long standing tradition but will that still be the case after this years? Warnings: 18+ only, angst and fluff WC: 3.5k F1 Masterlist || one || two

Flo’s old bedroom in her parent’s house hadn’t changed since she moved out. There were still glow-in-the-dark stars on the ceiling that you had helped her to stick up when you were fifteen. Lando had made fun of them and called them lame as walked past the doorway, but he had still come and held your chair stable when you were precariously close to tipping over.

“What are you staring at?” Flo asked as she walked in to find you lying on her bed, eyes on the roof.

“Nothing, have you picked a dress yet?” She huffed at your question and opened her closet with a shake of her head. “You do realise the party has already started.”

There was no way to miss it with the christmas music drifting up the staircase and echoing along the hall. Every year was the same, it didn’t matter that all their children had left home - Adam and Cisca still held the annual event and attendance was non-negotiable, even for you.

The bedroom door opposite Flo’s opened and Lando froze from tugging at the black tie as he caught sight of you. A slow smile grew on his face and he started to take a step forward until Flo appeared with a dress in hand. She held the floor length gown up to her body and swayed the metallic-finish material side to side. “What do you think?”

“Didn’t disco balls go out of fashion in the 80’s?” Lando teased, drawing her attention to the doorway.

“Didn’t ask your opinion, noob,” she shot back as she grabbed the door and shut it in his face. “I can’t believe he’s staying all week too. Doesn’t he have anything better to do?”

“You should be thinking about your dress right now,” you reminded her as you got up and searched the rack for another option. “Here, this is perfect.”

You could hardly explain to her that you were the real reason Lando was staying local all week. For six months you had stolen nights together, not only avoiding the paparazzi and fans always trying to snap photos of him, but more importantly, Flo. The guilt was a constant fist squeezing your stomach but every time you thought about telling her the truth, the fear of her response kept your lips sealed. Then months had passed by and you thought it would be even worse to admit how long the secret had been kept.

“Babe! This is why you are my best friend,” Flo exclaimed as she dropped what she held to take the emerald green chiffon dress from your hands. “What would I do without you?”

Your smile was forced as you wondered the very same thing. Your mothers had joined the same playgroup before you could walk but you had crawled to Flo and face planted, accidentally headbutting her and making you both cry, but you had been inseparable ever since. Whenever you made a promise to each other it was sealed with the mantra from cradle to grave - ensuring the promise would be as strong and long lasting as your friendship.

You caught the empty hanger she tossed back and hooked it back onto the rack. “End up looking like a disco ball, apparently.”

“Not even,” she said with a roll of her eyes as she shimmied into the dress. “I refuse to take fashion advice from a man who has a hoodie for every occasion.”

You laughed at the completely true statement and pointed at the door. “Not tonight though.”

“That’s not by choice. Mum said he had to smarten up or he would be on dish duty after dinner.” She scoffed as she turned around for you to tie the lace back together. “I told her, wearing a suit won’t make him any smarter.“

You shook your head with a laugh. “If I could get away with wearing a hoodie tonight, I absolutely would too. It feels weird dressing up one day a year. I spent the whole morning here in sweatpants.”

“It’s tradition, and you look gorgeous.”

“I should for the effort I put in,” you giggled, offering your elbow as you opened the bedroom door. “Shall we?”

She looped her arm in yours with a nod as the music downstairs grew with each step. “Let’s do this.”

If you had to listen to another Christmas song you were going to scream, so you escaped the warmth of the Norris’ home and took a breath of wintery air on the balcony where it was less audible. Though there was a chill in the air the eggnog and brandy kept you from feeling the full brunt of the night and you could hardly believe there was snow forecast to fall.

The only light that reached you was what slipped through the joins of the curtains but it was enough to see the paddocks beyond the grassy lawn. This late in the year the horses that usually grazed the paddocks would be holding up in the stables, away from the morning frosts that occurred daily, but you could still hear their neighs in the distance.

“Still not a fan of Bublé?”

You smiled to the sky as a pair of cold hands settled on your waist and warm lips found the delicate spot behind your ear.

“If he hasn’t grown on me by now, I don’t think he ever will.” You turned to face Lando and linked your arms around his neck. “Merry Christmas, my love.”

“Merry Christmas, baby.” His body started to sway, taking you with him as he hummed the stupid song in your ear, laughing when you narrowed your eyes at him. “What? All I want for Christmas is you.”

Your gaze softened and you smiled again as you tucked your head into his chest and buried your hands in his jacket to try steal some warmth. “Are you cold, love?” he asked, looking back at the warm house where all the log fires were lit.

“No, I’m not ready to go back yet,” you admitted as you cradled his cheek in your hand and guided his attention back to you. “Just a few more minutes together.”

He nodded before giving you a soft kiss and pulling away to shrug his wool suit jacket off and drape it over your shoulders. “Can’t have my girl getting sick for Christmas.”

One Year Earlier “I don’t buy it,” Flo muttered over her flute of champagne as she sat to your left at the dining table, waiting for dinner to be served.

“Buy what?” you asked as your attention was pulled away from Max on your right, and the pictures of the new simulator he had just finished setting up in his room.

“Them.” You followed her nod across the room to find Lando on the couch in front of the roaring log fire, his girlfriend sat on his lap as if there weren’t two other cushions available beside him. “There’s no chemistry.”

“Eh,” you shrugged as you grabbed your glass that Max had refilled for you, “since when do you need chemistry if you’re a model or whatever?”

“You almost sound jealous,” he teased quietly, wary of Flo on the other side.

“Am not,” you bit back a little too harshly, only making him chuckle more and take a sip of his beer before he said anything else.

“Dinner will be a little late, I’m afraid,” Cisca announced with a sigh, muttering about the gravy catastrophe. “Adam, honey, turn the music up for a bit.”

“If you aren’t hung up on him, then come have a dance with me,” Max dared as Oliver and his pregnant wife joined Flo’s aunt and uncle dancing in front of the hearth, beneath the twinkling fairy lights. He wiggled his fingers as he waited for you and with a sigh you placed your hand in his and rose from your place setting.

Flo grinned as you passed by, poking you in the ribs with a laugh and giving you the thumbs up - but Max was only a friend. He could only be a friend because the person you actually pined for was his best friend.

“I know,” he whispered in your ear as one hand rested on your waist and your feet followed his lead.

“Know what?” you asked innocently, but he had caught your eyes drifting to the couch as you circled your way around the room.

“I won’t say anything, I just thought you might want to talk to someone. God knows you can’t talk to Flo about it, she would smother him while he slept,” Max joked. “And I kind of like having my best friend.” His eyes looked at the couple before he sighed. “Most of the time at least.”

You weren’t the only one vying for his attention anymore since he got a girlfriend. “You’ve been drinking too much, Fewtrell. You’re seeing things with your beer goggles on, I have no interest in Lando.”

“Is that why he hasn’t stopped staring at you?” Your head snapped around but Lando’s attention was firmly on Luisa and the very deep kiss they were openly sharing. “Totally not interested in him, huh,” he chuckled as he tightened his hold on you when you tried to pull away. “I’m sorry, it sucks, wanting what you can’t have.”

“There are worse things,” you muttered under your breath but he heard and curled an eyebrow in question. “Wanting what you can’t have right in front of you.”

He had no response but a sad smile as the song changed and Michael Bublé’s Cold December Night crooned over the speakers.

“The twinkling of the lights, The sound of carols fill the household, Old saint Nick has taken flight, With a heart on board so please be careful, Each year I ask for many different things, But now I know what my heart wants you to bring.”

“I fucking hate Bublé,” you sniffed as you pulled away from Max’s arms. “I’m just going to get some fresh air.”

“It’s bloody snowing out there,” he objected as he followed you to the backdoor. “You’re going to be sick for Christmas.”

The dinner bell rang out and you sighed as it shattered the bubble you had found yourself in and knew you would have to release Lando from your arms.

“Come to my room tonight,” you whispered against his lips before they shared one last kiss. ‘Your room’ was actually one of the guest rooms down the hall but you had spent so much time in it over the years that it was only ever referred to as yours now. It was so much yours that Cisca had even asked you for your opinion in the wallpaper when she renovated the house.

“Don’t have to tell me twice, baby,” he said with a smirk as he opened the backdoor for you. You reluctantly removed his jacket and missed the scent more than the warmth as you passed it back. Lando pulled it back on and dipped his head to steal one final kiss before stepping inside with a warning over his shoulder, “No dancing with Max this year.”

“It’s your turn to be jealous this year,” you said as you blew a kiss to him along the narrow corridor.

He paused and cast his arm out, planting his palm on the wall and blocking you from rejoining the party. “What makes you think I wasn’t jealous last year?”

“Maybe it was the tongue down Luisa’s throat, or the hand up her skirt?”

You tried to duck under his arm but he caught you around the waist and used his body to cage you against the wall. “I had to do something to distract myself,” he admitted lowly in your ear, hiding his face from your disbelieving eyes. “You were all I could think about, you and that sexy little dress.” You tilted your head back as you felt his lips on your neck as he continued his confession. “If I didn’t do something I would have gone crazy watching him hold you when I couldn’t.”

His kiss set your body on fire and you combed your fingers through his hair tugging the strands so you could capture his lips.

“What the fuck!”

Both of your heads snapped towards the outburst and your stomach dropped as you saw Flo standing at the end of the hall. Her arms were limp at her side, the blank look of shock bleeding into betrayal as her head started to shake before she turned away.

Your body reacted before your brain could, pushing Lando away as you chased after her despite his call to let her go. You couldn’t let that happen, she had always been a worrier and the longer she stewed on something the worse it got in her mind. You had to talk to her.

You raced up the stairs, apologising to Adam as you passed him in the hurry, the confusion of catching his daughter’s rush to escape clear on his face. Her door was shut and you tested the handle to find it was locked and your head thumped against the wood with defeat.

“Please, Flo, let me in,” you begged her. A quick no resounding from inside. Turning around, you took a seat on the floor and rested your back to the door. “I’m going to stay right here until you open the door.”

“You’re going to be there a very long time.”

You sat there in silence for a few minutes wondering where to begin, how to explain what happened, why, how long. Finally you decided on a simple apology. “I’m sorry, Flo. We didn’t intend to fall in love, didn’t intend on anything happening. I fought the feelings for years, because I knew what it meant to you.”

“Still didn’t stop you though, did it?” She spat, her voice closer than you expected. “I had one rule. One!”

Your make up was certainly ruined as tears spilled forth, eyeliner and mascara stealing down your cheeks. “I know.”

“They say they don’t have favourites but mum and dad have always put him first. They missed my events to go to his races,” she sobbed, a sense of déjà vu filling you as she retold the history you had consoled her through years ago. She had always felt second place to Lando. “I thought you would always be my best friend.”

Your gut wrenched as you realised what she was feeling. She thought you were choosing him over her - like there had to be an ultimatum. “I still am,” you promised, shaking the door handle again. “Please, unlock the door.” She made no move to turn the key.

“Do you remember when you got Summer and I thought you were going to forget all about me?” you asked, remembering the day the pony arrived at the house and Flo had been so excited she had run off to the stables without you. “You told me I was always going to be your best friend, from cradle to grave. She was your horse, and you could love us both, right?”

The door tugged open and you fell back, sprawled on the floor as she stood with her arms crossed. “Are you calling my brother a horse?”

“Depends, would it make you feel better?”

She rolled her eyes and offered a hand to pull you to your feet. “I don’t know yet, I’m too pissed off at you.”

“Fair enough.”

“Hey, you guys okay?” Lando asked as he jogged to the top of the stairs, his tie and jacket missing.

You screwed your eyes shut at the timing and pinched the bridge off your nose as you asked, “Can we just have a few minutes?”

He turned twice first to head back down the stairs before he changed his mind and went to his room. “You said I had changed,” he muttered to Flo as he stood in his doorway and held the door knob. “You said I looked happier than ever.”

“I’m going to vomit if you tell me she’s the reason.”

“Sorry.”

“For what? Stealing my best friend?”

You stepped into her line of vision and waved a hand behind your back hoping Lando would get the hint. “He hasn’t stolen me, Flo. Cradle to grave.” You held up your pinky and held your breath as she stared at the age old promise you had made. “I should have told you how I felt about him, but you can be really scary and I was a coward. It was still a shitty thing to do.”

“Really shitty.”

“I know.”

“I can’t believe it was you,” she said with a shake of her head. “I knew there had to be a girl. This is annoying, more than anything, because he’s not such a muppet anymore, but knowing it’s from you - I don’t know if that’s better or worse.”

“Surely being happy is what matters most, not the who or why.”

She fell silent and her eyes fell to the door that he had quietly shut. “What happens if he breaks your heart?”

You hoped it never came to that but you couldn’t see the future so you shrugged. “Then I will cry on my best friend’s shoulder like I always have.”

Her shoulders bounced once with a laugh before she caught herself and tried to appear nonchalant. “I suppose I would offer to key their car.”

“And I would say it isn’t worth it.” You reached for her hand and she let you hold it as you gave it a squeeze. “But…if he doesn’t then I might not just be your best friend, might be your sister in law too someday.”

“Too soon,” she said with a scrunch of her nose as she pulled her hand away and went to Lando’s door. “Hurt her and I’ll key your new car, noob.”

The door swung open and Lando leaned against the jamb. “You don’t have to worry, sis.”

“I love her more than you.”

Lando snorted, a sound so similar to Flo’s, and he shook his head. “It’s not a competition, you muppet.”

She appeared almost pleased, though also surprised as she nodded and stepped away, “good answer.”

“But,” Lando smirked and you sighed inwardly, “if it was I would win.”

Flo oddly didn’t respond as she started to make her way back to dinner, pausing only as she reached the stairs before looking back. “By the way, I’m dating Max.”

“What? No fucking way, I gonna kill him,” Lando growled as he took a step towards her before her head fell back with laughter.

“Of course I'm not, Lando, but now you know how it feels.”

Her laugh echoed down the hall as she descended the staircase and left the two of you alone. Facing Lando, you stared at him wondering if anything had changed but the moment of uncertainty was gone when he pulled you into his arms and kissed you without fear of being caught.

“I’m taking you to dinner tomorrow, it’s all I’ve wanted to do for so long,” he laughed as he pressed his forehead to yours and recovered from the almost blessing you had received from Flo. “We don’t have to hide anymore.”

“Tomorrow's Christmas,” you said with a smile.

“Shit, okay then, the next day. Hey!” He grinned as he pointed downstairs, his head bobbing along to the song that was playing again on the playlist. “Christmas came early for me,” he said as he dragged you to his bedroom and closed the door, silencing Bublé as he sang, ‘All I want for Christmas is you’.

“We are going to miss dinner,” you warned as he sat on his bed and pulled you onto his lap.

“There’s always plenty of leftovers, plus, what I want isn’t on the menu downstairs,” he teased as his hands brushed beneath your dress.

“Bob, what are you up to-oh!” Max covered his eyes as he busted into the room. “Bro, everyone is waiting for you two. Time and place, people.”

You stood up and pulled the dress back into place, sending Lando a look that said ‘I told you so’ before tapping Max on the shoulder as you passed him. “You can look now.”

“I think the damage is already done, the image is seared on my retina,” he said with a dramatic shake. “So you two finally…”

“Got caught,” Lando said with a chuckle, slipping his hand in yours as the three of you headed to the dining room. “No more hiding.”

Max grinned and clapped Lando on the shoulder. “About time!”

“Wait, you knew?”

“Uh…I have been in the middle of this situation for like five years. Of course I knew. I think I knew before the two of you knew.”

You frowned at the news and came to a stop halfway to the landing. “So last year?”

“Was my trying to get you two to see what was clearly right in front of you the whole bloody time. You’re welcome for that, you know. And I expect to be thanked as the best friend and wingman one can ask for in our next stream. Now can we please go and eat, I’m starving!”

Lando looked at you with a different look of hunger in his eyes as he kissed your hand. “Me too.”

Taglist {1}: @moonvr @copper-boom @yunnie-f1 @ophcelia @lightsoutletsgo @alwaysclassyeagle @neiich @omgsuperstarg @starwarssavy23 @fdl305 @faeb1tch42069 @sweetestrose569 @pleasantducktimetravel @dr3lover @writerscurse @christianpulisic10 @alexisquinnlee-bc @purplephantomwolf @belennasif @ryiamarie @mickslover @tyna-19 @destourtereaux @sunf1ower16 @octaviareina @laneyspaulding19 @booknerd2004-blog @mimimarvelingmarvel @chonkybonky @jpg3 @bangtanxberm @ohthemisssery @eviethetheatrefreak @kimi240302 @andydrysdalerogers @formula1mount @storyteller-le @dakotali @daddyslittlevillain @elijahslover

#lando norris imagine #lando norris fanfic #lando norris x reader #lando norris x you #f1 imagines #f1 fanfic #f1 rpf #formula one imagine #formula one fanfiction

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angelbarelywrites · 2 months

Text

♡ slashers scenarios | you’re almost a victim..

♡ fandoms; Halloween, Texas Chainsaw Massacre (2006), Black Christmas, Dead by Daylight, slashers (general)

♡ characters; Micheal Myers, Thomas Hewitt, Billy Lenz

♡ reader; gender neutral

♡ cw; very suggestive content

♡ note; i wasn’t sure how to word the title/concept of this one?? but essentially you’re almost a victim, but you’re a little to okay with it/something they do and it throws them off?? idk just read ‘em

also only 3 little meow meows in this one, i wrote most of this on break at work uwu

•┈••✦ ❤ ✦••┈•

Micheal Myers

> he’s been stalking you for months

> in his mind you’re the perfect victim

> clueless to his presence, adorable and vulnerable

> he’s drawing it out as long as he can

> but he’s practically twitching the night you come out onto your porch in your tight pajama shorts, relaxing with some tea

> he’s got you pinned to the wall before you can even scream

> he wants to savor this, so he keeps his knife tucked away and has a massive hand around your throat

> he doesn’t miss your breath catching

> and he takes a moment to watch your chest heaving, your cheeks all flushed

> but he’s not that easily impressed. could be the lighting. maybe you’re quick to panic.

> “…you’ve been watching me.”

> you knew?

> you knew, and you still played his game

> interesting. very interesting.

Thomas Hewitt

> Tommy boy is already giving you special treatment

> something is different about you

> he’s not sure what, you’re pretty, but he kills plenty of pretty people

> maybe something about the way you look up at him through your lashes?

> and you’re terrified now, but you weren’t scared of the initial sight of him..

> he doesn’t put you on a meat hook, instead rigging you somewhat kindly, your hands chained above your head but your bound feet on the ground

> whatever he decides on, he knows that you’re special. you deserve to be honored.

> he takes extra care in examining you, feeling you shiver as he grazes your exposed stomach - a side affect of your position, but a welcome sight

> he roughly grabs your face and pushes it left and right, pausing to rub your cheek with his thumb

> you would be a pretty face to wear

> he shoves two fingers into your mouth as he’s mentally measuring

> and he practically startles at the noise you make

> he’s never heard a sound like come from a victim- especially not his victims

> when he pushes a bit and you whimper around his fingers it confirms his suspicions. you’d given a choked moan at the initial intrusion

> he stares down at you, breathing heavily through his mask

> oh you were very special

Billy Lenz

> you were renting a spare room in the sorority house

> while you were good friends with the girls, you valued your alone time

> you quickly became Billy’s favorite to watch, mostly because you were always home

> when he calls he always tries to time it so you pick up

> but usually the girls downstairs still answer- you’re never expecting calls so why bother?

> this evening however, he’s lucky- there’s an on campus event and you’re home completely alone

> you answer on the second ring and he’s delighted, immediately babbling profanities and filthy threats

> “gonna fuck that pretty piggy c—“

> to his surprise you giggle at him

> not a nervous sound, but genuine giggling

> before he can snap, or really even process you laughing at him, you stop him

> “yknow if you want phone sex, you can just ask nicely mister”

> he hangs up in a panic

> that was certainly the last thing he expected

> but now he’s beyond fixated on you

> he barely sleeps just to peep through your wall

> and it’s just about time he paid you a real visit

#thomas hewitt #slashers #dead by daylight #thomas hewitt x reader #slashers x y/n #slashers x you #slashers headcanons #tcm 2006 #tcm #black christmas #billy lenz x reader #billy lenz #micheal myers x reader #micheal myers #halloween #g/n reader #gender neutral reader #slashers x reader

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occamstfs · 3 months

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Wouldn't It Be Funny?

Back again with a longer military tf, Hope you enjoy! - Occam

Curtis and Joseph were bored out of their minds. After growing disenchanted with university life the two were well into a gap year and have been finding progressively less stimulating ways to waste away their time. Without assignments piling up and biweekly mandatory lectures they were firmly adrift as the days of the week blur together. Curtis continues scrolling on his phone while Joseph, phone ever-so-recently dead, tries to think of anything to do while it charges back up.

“Wait! I think my brother left a stash of beer last time he visited!” Curtis looks up and squints at his friend, “the best thing you think we could be doing right now is day drinking alcohol your brother left here months ago?” Joseph makes a motion inviting Curtis to produce a better idea which goes unanswered as he rolls his eyes and gets up to accompany Joseph on this ignoble quest.

Joseph leads Curtis to the hall closet where he had apparently thrown everything his brother, Nick, had left after staying over for a couple weeks. There is some deodorant and other toiletries scattered about although the floor, first and foremost however, what catches Curtis’ eye is an army uniform laying in a heap, in the corner of the closet. There is just something about it. Any time he starts to move his attention away from it another question pops into his mind requiring a deeper inspection of the jacket. He wonders how durable the uniform actually is? It looks as if it's never been worn though he knows that Nick has certainly done some training in it. He simply must have a closer look.

Before he could act on that, the jacket he so craved was chucked at him as Joseph found his bottled quarry underneath. “Score! It’s almost full too, we can have two each and rock, paper, scissors over the last one.” Joseph heads to the kitchen well on his way to some palatable lukewarm beers as he continues to chat busily at Curtis. His roommate doesn’t hear him however as the only thing on his mind is the scratchy jacket in his arms.

He almost blushes looking down and feeling it in his arms, quite a bit heavier than he thought it would be. Surely he should toss it back with the rest of Nick’s things but it’s such a nice jacket. Quite a shame it's gone so long just sitting in their unworn. Maybe he’d just toss it on as a prank. Yeah Joseph would love that, seeing his friend in this massive jacket. His body acts quicker than his mind though, swiftly putting it on, pulling the hem down to straighten it out and pulling the sleeves up so you can just see his hands out the end.

Curtis hears his friend opening bottles in the kitchen and grins as he pictures the look on Joseph’s face as he sees him wearing this. He zips it up and struggles to get wrinkles out of the pockets before the grand reveal. No reason to not try and look legit. For it to really be funny it needs to look good. As soon as the thought that this would be funny enters his mind however he has a sharp headache and groans. No longer able to recall the incongruity of the situation as he steps out to see his friend.

Rounding the corner Curtis quickly starts what is meant to be a comedically poor salute but instead executes one with the precision of a machine. This only heightens the comedy of it all from where Joseph is standing however, halfway through a bottle of beer he chokes and spits up the beer all over the counter. He takes a moment to recover from this waste of beer before looking up once more and laughing so hard he can’t stand up straight.

Curtis in turn clenches his fist hard enough to pop a joint as he feels aggressively defensive. Why is his friend laughing at him. His back tenses with more effort than he has sustained in months, and more strength then he has wielded in a lifetime, as he cannot let this slight go unreciprocated. “What’s so funny, Kid.” Joseph looks up to see Curtis with an expression of rage more genuine than any emotion he had seen of his friend in months. It is immediately met with a flinch and a recoil as Joseph can’t bring himself to his friends’ burning gaze, “Jesus Curtis is everything alright? I thought you were doing a joke?”

A Joke? Curtis’ neck spasms breaking him out of his statuesque posture and upon rubbing a neck more muscular than he thought possible, he remembers, of course he was doing a joke! Why else would he be wearing Nick's Jacket! Smiling as he remembers how good it landed, he heads over to his friend, “Sweet you already opened a bottle for me! What’s the move now, did you want to game?”

Joseph, shell-shocked by this return to spirits, assumes that the whole thing was now some shit joke, hands his friend a beer and heads to set up his PS5, “sure whatever dude, can you get the lights?” Which Curtis quickly does, not noticing his arms definitively stretching much further out of the jacket than they should. Waiting for his friend to finish the setup Curtis paces behind the couch, each step louder than the last as he grows less careful of his footing and he continues to ever so slightly grow into this jacket.

“Can you chill dude?”

“Oh! Sorry did-”

“And why are you still wearing my brother’s jacket!”

“Your brothers-” Curtis pauses to look at the name stitched onto his chest and is also shocked that he’s wearing Nick’s jacket though decidedly not for the same reason that Joseph assumed. “Woah sorry kid? I guess I was cold? Do you want me to throw it back in the closet?”

“Just take it off dude! And stop calling me kid,” puffing as he sits back on the couch and starts to play some game Curtis feels like he should recognize before taking off the jacket and heading to put it in the closet. He scratches at his chin as he tries to work out what feels so off right now. Hanging up Nick’s jacket, sure not to leave any creases, he remembers that he’ll probably need to shave soon so he doesn’t get a mark at the next inspection, his rougher hands feeling around his sharper jaw to check the damage.

Returning to the living room he trips over what he assumes is his own feet but is embarrassed to find; Ah! It’s his jacket! Thank god he let his discipline slack here and not back at base. He picks it up as Joseph turns around hearing the stumble and begins to hurry him back before instead asking, “did you do something with your hair?” To which Curtis tilts his head like a dog before Joseph shouts once more, “Dude! Are you wearing my brother’s socks!?”

“No of course not they would never fit.” He says looking down to see the same army green socks he always wears, not Nick’s. “Well my feet do seem larger than I thought they were.” continuing as he bends down to inspect his feet, Joseph scrambles over to do similarly, though neither notices as they slowly inch even larger across the carpet. Instead Joseph is immediately thrown for a loop hearing a loud groan from his friend as he stands back up. Now almost a head taller than he was before bending down.

“Fuck dude you’re so tall!” Joseph reaches up to put his hands on his friend’s shoulders. Curtis was always taller, a fact Joseph was already none too pleased with, but this was ridiculous. He almost has to strain and as he does finally get his arms up he immediately finds thick traps under his friend’s strained shirt, “Asshole! Have you been working out without me!?”

“Of course not. When would I? Or who would I even-”

“I mean, with recruiters right?” Joseph offers forth without the thought even consciously entering his mind. It made no sense to him but it was true. Suddenly it's as if some form of static fills the minds of both the men, a warm static buzzes through Curtis’ mind and body as he starts to unconsciously put the newly reclaimed uniform back on himself. Joseph experiences something far harsher in his own mind, the static is unbearably cold and punishing. He claws at his head, no longer able to hold two ideas of who Curtis is in his mind. And it is clear which reality is prevailing as Curtis slides his thicker arms into the jacket, flexing to make sure his uniform is fitting just right.

As he begins to zip up the jacket his pecs begin to make themselves well more than apparent. His decidedly larger nipples poking out as the apparently nylon shirt hugs his defined chest and he struggles to get the zipper closed without being uncomfortably tight on his pecs before deciding to just leave it unzipped for now. “Why would I be working with recruiters, lil’ dude?” He looks confused at his friend, or his friend’s little brother? Before smirking and seizing the chance, “If anything you’re the one who should be working with them, gotta be bigger than that to join up with us!” He puts a hand on Joseph’s head messing with his hair, jolting Joseph back to this new reality.

“Curtis! Do you not think something weird is happening here!”

“Oh? Did your brother not tell you I go by Curt?”

“My brother? Fuck dude! It’s his jacket! You’re wearing his jacket again!”

“Ah no lil’ dude this one here is mine, check it!”

Joseph looks at the clear name tag on his chest clear as day with Curt’s last name on it, not noticing as he seamlessly uses Curt’s apparent preferred name. Instead he stares at a symbol over the center of Curt’s chest clearly also different than the one on his brother’s uniform. Curt smirks as he points to it himself, “Impressed kid? I’m already a Private First Class, not too hard to outpace Nick though. I mean love the guy but come on! Show some hustle! We enlisted together for a reason dude!”

Suddenly Joseph feels that this statement was a bridge too far. He feels a pit in his chest as he feels he has just lost something greater than he can understand going to slap the exemplar of a man in front of him, “Snap out of it!” Before even nearing a strike however his wrist is snatched out of the air and held fast above his head. Curt stares daggers into Joseph at this sign of aggression, this challenge. His eyes darken as his stubble grows out even more. Joseph feels Curt’s grip grow even darker watching as the hair on his arms darkens spreading out from the sleeves. He brings in Nick’s little bro closer to his face as his warm, heaving breaths distract Joseph from the pain in his upheld wrist before he lets go and guffaws, “You’ve gotta be quicker than that kid if you want to enlist with us! Where is your brother anyway? ‘S why I came over right?”

Joseph is perplexed as Curt lets him go, also unsure as to why this mammoth of a man is in his living room. They are quickly assuaged as Curt gets a text from Nick. “Oh you need a ride did ya kid? No problem! He just wants you to bring over the jacket he left over here and we’ll head on out.” Curt struggles to shove his feet in his combat shoes before finding himself distracted as the shoes push out to fit his ever larger feet.

Joseph’s mind remains a battlefield but it is clear which side is soon to rout as he heads to the closet where he just wanted to grab some beer. Inside he finds not only his brother's jacket, expertly hung, but a second one that looks almost supernaturally comfortable. He pauses before reaching out, feeling an existential aversion to the jacket hanging in his closet. before there’s a brisk breeze through the house and he shivers. Joseph quickly grabs his brothers and slides into the latter jacket, a tad too big but the world around him feels much warmer now that he has it on.

After suiting up Joseph quickly rushes back to his brother’s friend, quite wanting to make a good impression on the private first class. As he rushes his footsteps quickly grow in volume as his tennis shoes thicken into pristine combat shoes and grow far wider as his feet race to keep up, filling their increased space. Barely avoiding tripping over his now massive feet, he sees that Curt is of course not a private at all but his Corporal, as he freezes and salutes. His biceps straining his sleeves as his stained white shirt begins to slowly make room for the soldier’s expanding muscle. “At ease Joe, Let’s go ahead and head on out.”

Curt leads Joe out to his lifted truck and has him get in before loading a few more things into the bed of his truck. There is a load of clearly dirty towels in the back seat as Curt clearly has an issue bringing in laundry after his workouts. Although he doesn’t make it a habit of driving recruits so it’s not usually an issue. Sitting in the musky cabin does immediately cause issues for Joe however, as he puts the seatbelt on he feels his body start to expand in every direction it can. His pecs push against both his shirt and the seatbelt. He pulls his tight shirt down, straining it to the brim as he feels a sudden itch in his crotch. His hand already down there and finding it impossible to bring his attention anywhere else he sees his bulge push out, almost doubling in size as he scratches his increasingly overgrown pubes. He struggles to cover the impossible to miss bulge forcing his brother’s jacket over his crotch, the added pressure and warmth overwhelms him as Curt notices from outside

Curt watches as his new recruit’s shoulders broaden and his jaw widens. He slightly shifts in his seat, almost gyrating, running the hand not shoved in his pants through his hair, leaving behind a respectable high and tight demanded of any respectable recruit.

Curt slowly opens the door giving the recruit the briefest of chances to at least perform decency. Immediately wrenching the hand from his pants to salute, shouting “Sir!” towards his Corporal, eyes growing deathly serious as he touches a visibly sweat covered hand to his brow. Curt’s eyes glint as he notices the action flung Nick’s jacket off and exposed Joe’s still expanding bulge and unzipped pants. The two feel a hunger starting to grow in their chests as Curt hops into the driver's seat. Adjusting his rear view as he juts up once more in height, his jacket making it apparent to all he is now a sergeant, Curt begins to drive off towards the base.

Curt puts his hand on Joe’s inner thigh, overstimulating the private who roughly clenches his jaw trying to keep it together. He feels pre start to soak through Joe’s fatigues as he starts to rub his thigh. Grunting as he too feels a powerful stirring in his crotch, his cock forcing itself further down his leg. “Wouldn’t want to stop at my place first, would ya’ Joe?” Joe stares at the sergeant ahead of him with a lust deeper than the can understand, and a hunger to grow even larger. Curt chuckles, “gotta release some of this energy before we break the new to Nick anyway.” He turns his car and begins to race towards his apartment on the base.

As the heat in the car begins to fog up the windows the two men could not remember anything besides who they were since joining the army. After an anything but quick fuck, they would get back to work on the base. Curt distracts himself as he commands his troops and Joe gets ready for his promotion ceremony, ready to rub it in his brother’s face that he was already going to be higher ranked. The two follow orders flawlessly as they always have, performing their duties with rigor. The only thing more present on their minds than dedication to their fellow soldiers being the excitement for the next time they are to fuck.

#masculinization #mental change #male tf #army tf #male transformation #muscle tf #reality change

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prettyboykatsuki · 2 years

Text

you say the word, im on the way | e. yeager

♤ tags ;; fem!reader, cheating (on reader but not by eren), exes to lover, past toxic relationships, arguing and insults, very emotionally charged sex, co-dependency (in a way), childhood friends to lovers, streamer!eren (BARELY mentioned), make-up sex, oral (f!recieving),, unprotected sex, so much dirty talk, praise kink, petnames angel, baby, pretty girl, eren kinda.. talks to ur pussy djhsdj, 18+

♤ wc ;; 10.2k (utter agony)

♤ a/n ;; i really like. this isn't the best. but that's fine i had a lot of fun alr. very self indulgent. title from teenage fever by drake.

♤ synposis ;; after your boyfriend cheats on you, your ex, eren, shows up for you against all odds. you give into him against your best interest.

You wait for him on the side of the road.

The rain is coming down in heavy sheets. You’re soaked to the bone having left in a hurry with only a single suitcase of your things. Your phones nearly dead, less than 20 percent with an ever-depleting battery. The closest place to charge your phone is too long to walk in this weather. And it’s so late the buses have stopped running.

Even if you could leave, it’s dark and dangerous. Your heart is in your throat, and the only streetlight is so far it hardly makes you feel any safer. You don’t know a single person in your ex-boyfriend's hometown other than his parents, but you aren’t sure you can face them right now if you wanted to.

It’s not like you wanted to call Eren. Or for him to see you as sorry as you are. Dehydrated, exhausted, emotionally battered - you don’t even like seeing Eren when you’re at your best. You’re sure as soon as you get into his car, he’ll start arguing with you. You’ve spent the last 15 minutes mentally readying yourself for his harsh comments whatever they may be.

You don’t have the luxury of being picky. He’s safer than venturing by yourself or taking an Uber. And he owes you one, anyway. Nows a good of a time as any to take him up on that.

Relief fills your whole body when you see a car pull up onto the side of the road. It’s an all-black sports car. Typically Eren, it sticks out sorely from all the other cars that have passed by. Wiping your eyes, you clear your vision to see Eren inside. He’s wearing a black cap and mask.

Your feet sink in the mud as you walk up to the car, but he beats you to the punch. Approaching you in the dead of night with a sort of anger you can feel before you even look at his face. He has a jacket with him made of that thin plastic material.

Before you open your mouth, he’s pulling the poncho over your head. He puts your arms through before he drags you by the wrist to his car. Hurriedly, you grab your suitcase and track it through the mud while you follow. Your voice is too hoarse to protest him, but you shout over the rain.

“Fuck Eren,” You half yell, wriggling your wrist free from his grip “Let me go,”

When he does, you stumble forward. You don’t get a look at his face as he walks over to the driver's side. In your exhaustion, you don’t think twice about it or assume he was doing it on purpose. You resign yourself. Hearing the back trunk of his car open, you try and read his face through the tinted windows. But even with the lights on, you can’t.

Sighing, you truck it towards the back. Your feet sink into the soft earth under you, huffing as you pick it up and shove it into the trunk. After you close it, you hurry back to the passenger seat, finally opening the door to see Eren.

He doesn’t even look at you when you do, eyes focused on the road. You stare at the interior of his car, grimacing at the thought of having to pay him back for getting it covered in mud. Left without a choice, you get in.

The plastic on his seat tells you he might’ve thought ahead. You aren’t sure if you should be comforted by that or not.

The door closes with a soft thud as you get to sit. The sound of the rain is muted almost instantly and leaves you with nothing but the radio, virtually silent, and Eren with a hand over the wheel. You put your seatbelt on and then settle more into your seat. Turning your body to face the window. The tension in the air is so thick you can feel yourself choke around it, breathing through your nose.

Eren’s car smells like spearmint. You’re expecting to be berated at some point, for inconveniencing him or otherwise. After all, you called him through a sob and asked him for something you’re sure he’d rather not be doing.

Instead though, he puts the car in drive, steps on the gas, and does a turn until he’s back on the road home.

He doesn’t say a word or even looks at you. Maybe reminding him of the fact he owed you meant he was going to treat this interaction as entirely transactional, which is infinitely better for you. You let out a breath of relief, shivering. He turns on the heat without you asking.

You decide against speaking and give him a glance of acknowledgment. He doesn’t return the gesture.

You hear your phone buzz in the pocket of your pants, and fish it out. As you expected, it’s just your ex-boyfriend. A slew of missed messages and calls. Your eyes hurt getting adjusted to the bright lights as you send him a quick stop texting me tonight before clicking it off. You want to throw your phone in the river, and yourself. To float down somewhere far from here, and pretend nothing ever happened.

With the white noise of rain no longer drowning out your invasive and sad thoughts, you find yourself choking back more tears. The wound is still fresh, tender, and bleeding.

You’ve always had bad taste in guys.

But you thought this time would be different. He was different. Patient, and attentive and so thoughtful. It was always stable. You met his family, for fuck sake. His mom, dad, and sister - are all good people. A nice house with a garage, health insurance, and a college graduate. From a different place than you and your friends.

It was never all that exciting, but you thought it was better that way. To keep it simple. You put in the effort to make it work. Got comfortable with complacency, and waved off all of your friends when they insisted you should date someone better. Someone who suited you more.

Maybe someone like Eren. The thought makes your stomach sour.

But your ex, he wasn’t a bad guy. It wasn’t so easy. He was safe, and after your other experience with romantic relationships- safety wasn’t something you could dismiss with the idea of deserving more. More was abstract and intangible. Slippery.

You were content, so you stayed. Stability, you told yourself, I just want stability.

He was the last person you could imagine cheating on you. Unsurprisingly with a girl from his hometown who he’d told you about before and swore he got over. Feeling stupid, you let out an exasperated laugh. It’s your fault for trying so hard. For taking his inch and trying to turn it into a mile.

For believing it’d be enough to try. Maybe you know better than anyone, there are just some people you never get closure with. That distant look in his eyes concerned you. But a guy like him didn’t seem like he’d cheat.

You’ve never been so wrong.

Your stomach rumbles as you close your eyes and go over the fight. Subsequently, you forget Eren is even in the car with you. His presence fades into the background, face pained as you think of your exes apologies. He seemed sorry.

But you’re not someone who can forgive or forget easily - so you broke up. It just complicates everything. Already broken up, but you have to get your things. Find a place to stay for the month because it’s too expensive to go home early. Delete him off your socials, and maybe get in touch with your therapist again. The laundry list of post-break-up things to do is the most frustrating and most taxing.

The emotional healing and distrust go in some compartment until you can actually unpack them. After the initial devastations scabs over, you’re sure the sore feeling of sadness will come back with a vengeance.

That’s later though, and this is now.

Moping is a pipe-dream, seeing as you’re in a place where you have no one and nothing. The only person you know lives here is Eren, but you’re not really expecting any help from him after tonight. Maybe 3 days max, if he’s feeling generous enough.

At the very least, he must feel pretty sorry for you. No snippy remark or sarcastic gripe since you’ve gotten in. You can’t figure out what he’s thinking, just as before. It’s almost impossible to get a read on his face, and that thought leaves your mouth bitter.

As bitter as a favor. As bitter as a memory, you swipe your tongue on your teeth to rid yourself of the taste but it lingers.

You avert your eyes to your hands, peeling the skin off the edge of your fingernails. After a minute or two, you drive in front of a stoplight. The red reflects onto your sneakers and into Eren’s car.

“So,” He starts, voice filled with that familiar sharpness “How’s the boyfriend?”

Ah. There it is. He almost disarmed you with his silence. It’s a weird way to start scolding you, but you’ve never really understood why Eren does what he does. You sigh, clearing your throat. It’s thick with tears you’ve been shedding all evening.

“Ex-boyfriend.”

The light goes green, and he takes a right. He lives farther than you thought.

“How’d you fuck it up this time?”

Normally, his insistence on blaming you would frustrate you. It’s classically Eren. The projection was always the name of the game when you two were dating, especially at the sour end of your relationship.

Your desire and ability to fight are diminished though, turning into ember and ash. Giving him a shrug, you laugh a bit.

“Don’t know,” You say with a little more honesty than you were intending to “I just uh. I don’t know.”

He sighs this time, and his voice goes a touch soft. Sympathy feels worse than his anger. How pathetic you must look settles in.

“...What happened?”

It’s hard to get yourself to say it. Even though you know it. Getting the words out feels like climbing a mountain. You lean back into the headrest and turn away from him. Watching the passing cars intently, you smile.

“He cheated on me. From uh, a girl with his hometown,” You say, forthright. Hoping his pity might make him go easy on you “His first love. I came home and found them in our bed,”

You can feel him go stiff beside you.

You realize that anything he said to you right now probably wouldn’t hurt. The numb pain outweighs everything else that you think it’d slide off your back.

“And?”

“Uh... I don’t know. She left. And we got into a fight. Broke up with him and said I’d figured something out. Just didn’t really want to be in the same room with him,” You sigh, rubbing underneath your eyes “Packed my shit and sort of wandered around trying to figure out what to do. Called you when I saw how late it got,”

“Should’ve called me earlier,” He says simply. You chuckle.

“Like when?”

He huffs.

“Earlier. Would’ve picked you from his place and fought him or something.”

You smile somberly.

“I thought about it, buut I thought that'd upset him, so I didn’t,”

This he scoffs at, anger in his voice.

“That’s so like you,”

You wish you could disagree.

“Yeah,” You say back, unsure of what else to do “Yeah, guess it is.”

“What’re you gonna do now?”

You take a deep breath in.

“I won’t be in your hair long. I’ll try and score an Airbnb and wait it out. Leaving early is expensive as fuck.”

“You could stay with me if it’s just a couple of weeks,” He offers easily “Airbnbs are more expensive than a ticket, right?”

“Would your girlfriend be okay with that? Does she know you’re picking me up?”

He stares out into the road, jaw clenched.

“We broke up a while ago.”

“What happened there?”

“None of your business.”

You scoff.

“Of course, it isn’t,” You reply, a little angrier than you can control “Your personal life never is. My mistake. I’m a little rusty on how this works.”

His voice is so cold it’s chilling.

“Don’t,” He grits, hands hard on the steering wheel “Don’t fucking start,”

“I’m not trying to start anything. But it’s hypocritical for you to ask me about the shit that just happened and not even tell me why you and your girlfriend broke up.”

“I’m doing you a favor,” He justifies in a half-hearted way you’ve grown accustomed to “I deserve to know,”

You laugh, voice strangled.

“You deserve a fucking foot up your ass,” You spit, suddenly shaking “A simple ‘It’s complicated or ‘I don’t want to talk about it right now’ would’ve sufficed.”

“You’re still good at picking fights,” He goads, mouth twisted in a sneer “Did you nag him too? Maybe that’s why he went crawling back to his first love”

It’s too far. He’s too far, and he knows it. It’s all over his face, even masked in anger. You shoot him a deadly look, arms crossed over your chest. Suddenly, tears well up in your eyes and you can’t even look at him. It was a mistake, of course it was. You shouldn’t have bothered. Expecting anything from Eren was your own fault. Even basic decency.

Whatever camaraderie you used to have dissolved a long time ago. You bite your tongue

“You’re the fucking worst,” You sniffle, closing your eyes “Just drop me off at a hotel. I don’t want to be around you. It’s my fault for assuming you’d be civil.”

His hands are gripping the steering wheel tight.

“Tell me how you really feel,” His voice is dripping with sarcasm. “I think I’m being plenty civil right now,”

“Fuck. Do you get off on provoking me? On hurting my fucking feelings?” Your voice comes to a scratchy yell, unable to contain the anger in it “I just got fucking cheated on. In the middle of a city where I don’t know a single person other than you. You’re the last person I want to fucking see, Eren. The last,”

“So why’d you call me crying?”

“I didn’t have a choice! If I had a choice, I would’ve called anyone else. Would’ve called Jean or Connie or Armin—anyone. Anyone who isn’t fucking you.”

He clicks his teeth.

“Liar,” He says with the sort of confidence that floors you “You would’ve still called me even if everyone we know was in the city,”

It stings that he’s right. Your strength crumbles.

“So what if that’s true? What does it matter that I thought of you? That’s always been my issue, right? How’d you put it again?” You laugh out loud, a little out of it “I should stop expecting anything from you, right? It’s my fault. I should just stop having expectations for anyone. It must be me.”

He looks a little strained. Almost sorry. You scoff.

“Yeah,” You mumble, exhausted “You’re right. I shouldn’t expect anything from anyone. No matter how much I heal, or how hard I try to do the right thing”

“Y/N—”

“I worked on myself. Went to therapy. Took time off from dating altogether. Did everything right and still,” Your mouth fills with iron “Still. Still. I can’t find one person to treat me decently. Congrats, Yeager. It’s just like you hoped.”

The silence that follows says more than you ever could. You rub your temple. He’s probably right that you pushed it.

“Sorry for snapping on you,” You reply, voice tense “But, I still want to be dropped off at a hotel.”

“Why?”

You laugh.

“What do you think? Think we’re gonna be able to play house for two weeks? It hasn’t even been an hour and we’re fighting,”

He’s thinking. You can see it on his face, the tight strain of his jaw, and his brows. You haven’t seen him in person for more than a couple of years. But the familiarity always lingers. It doesn’t feel unusual, even the fighting.

He hasn’t changed. That much is obvious.

You shouldn’t have called, you think. It might’ve been better to get hypothermia and walk to the nearest motel.

“It’s not your fault he cheated on you,” He says. You think it’s his way of apologizing, a piss poor attempt at comforting you “Guys are just scumbags. Hung up on their first love or whatever. It’s not uncommon,”

You don’t know if you want to laugh or cry. Frankly, you don’t have the energy for either.

“Does that include you?” You attempt to joke. To your surprise, he laughs. His voice is hoarse, and a touch resentful. Not at you, though. That feels important.

“Yeah.” He replies, not looking over at you “Me especially,”

It’s the first time he’s said as much about himself in your presence. Before it was that you didn’t understand him or that you didn’t get it. It’s too early to retract your previous statement. Hope sparks anyways. For what, you don’t want to know.

You nod sagely.

“You especially,” You affirm without any trouble “At least you know.”

This time, he smiles at you. It’s barely there. This whole conversation and the good nature of it is like walking on eggshells. You both know that.

Eren breaks the silence first as he pulls into another lane.

“Stay with me for tonight,” He offers “Just tonight,”

You don’t know why he insists. A loud yawn slips through your lips and your inclination to protest dwindles before being snubbed out completely. Shivering, you nod. Your head feels heavy.

“If you say so,”

You think you feel a pair of eyes on you before sleep washes over you like a tide. They might be Erens, but in your delirium, you can’t be sure. It doesn’t take much for you to succumb to sleep.

After your car ride ended, Eren woke you up gently to help you inside. This time, he took your luggage without your asking and helped you into his home.

He lives in one of those luxury apartments with a doorman. It’s fancier than you could ever imagine yourself living in. There’s a chandelier in the lobby, with a gym and a pool. Trekking mud into such a nice place makes you feel guilty. Eren seems unbothered.

You take the elevator up to the 7th floor, and then a right into the hallway. Eren fishes the keys out of his pocket, unlocking the door and stepping aside to let you in.

This is a bachelor pad. It’s the first thing that crosses your mind when you enter.

The decoration is minimalist and expensive. Boyish in its extravagance, littered with pricey things only Eren Yeager would buy. The couches are black, the carpet is white and the windows are big panes that overlook the entire city.

A flatscreen takes up most of the room. There’s a kitchen but it looks unused. It’s lived in, in the way that there are running shoes and clothes. Mess that happens when you spend your time somewhere, but it’s void of things a girlfriend would have in the house. You would know.

On one of the walls is a painting of a woman's naked body, tastefully done. From what you remember of Eren’s ex-girlfriend, she’d have his head over something like that.

Eren clears his throat behind you. When you turn to look at him, he looks a little sheepish.

“Broke up a while ago huh,”

He looks surprised at your deduction. You poke your head at the painting.

“She would’ve beat your ass for even thinking about putting that up,”

His expression is affirmative. After you’re done taking it in, all of your sensory issues hit you all at once. You pull the sleeves of your soaked hoodie over your hands but you’re freezing. His eyes widen.

“Ah, shit. Let me get you a towel. I’ll turn the heat up too,”

“Thanks, ‘ren.”

The nickname slips out of habit, but you don’t get a chance to retract it as Eren shuffles off to grab you a towel.

It doesn’t take him very long, a few in hand. You watch him idly as he turns on the heat before hurrying back over to you, shoving towels your way. You make him hold them for a minute, taking off your poncho and hanging it to him.

You dry yourself off to the best of your ability as Eren goes to put away the raincoat.

“Mind if I shower?”

He shakes his head.

“Would be concerned if you didn’t. I can get us food or something while you’re in there,”

“That’s… thoughtful of you. I’d appreciate it. I can Venmo—”

He puts a hand up, sitting on the back of his couch while you dry yourself off.

“Save your money if you’re worried about it.”

“I don’t want to owe you anything.”

Your frank way of speaking to him irritates him, same as always.

“You won’t owe me,” He assures first “I know we hate each other's guts now, but I’m not gonna let you go hungry.”

Warm. It makes you feel warm. You avert your eyes as you dry yourself off.

“Your mom would have your head,” You murmur. He laughs.

“My mom might forgive me. Zeke and my old man would hang me like a flag,”

“How’s Zeke been?”

His expression goes dry. They’re fighting. Eren rolls his eyes.

“Fine. On my ass, as usual. Business is good. I’ve got a niece now. Zeke’s wrapped around her finger,”

You’ve seen it floating on social media. You feel a little melancholy. It must show on your face.

“You should still visit home sometimes. Don’t be a stranger,”

You smile sadly.

“Easier said than done,”

“...Even if you don’t see me. I’m not the only one who misses you. Jean hasn’t stopped bitching about you going to see just Armin.”

You don’t know if he catches it. He misses you. You’re too afraid to confront it but unable to ignore it. You think over his words.

“It’s not like I don’t want to,” You start, voice slow “But after everything… after everything.”

There’s a minute where neither of you talks. Yet it’s not silent. The room is tense with everything you want to say or everything you did. Every regret, every memory starts to buzz all at once inside of your ribs like a spark of electricity through your hollow.

“If tonight didn’t happen, I wouldn’t have ever seen you again,”

He shakes his head with the same confidence as before.

“I would’ve found you.”

He says it like it doesn’t need any explanation. As casual as relaying the weather to you. He gives you a look, scratching his jaw.

“Go shower. How’s Thai? Same as before?”

It takes you a second to find your voice.

“Y-Yeah. Same as before. Where’s your shower?”

He directs his eyes towards the bathroom. You grab your small luggage on your way, offering him a quiet thanks. The sound of your heartbeat thrums in your ears, faster than the pounding rain.

Time passes like sand between your fingers.

After a shower, a change of clothes, and a full stomach - you and Eren are left totally in each other's company. Your expectation of it being awkward or even marginally uncomfortable becomes unthinkable after a while. Despite how late it is, you aren’t tired or all that sad.

Truthfully, you don’t know how to handle how familiar Eren feels. Like a durable winter coat with a heavy and comforting weight on your shoulders. It’s not burdensome to talk to him. He matches your pace and picks up easily on your quips. Natural lulls in conversation don’t feel uncomfortable and every misdirect or anecdote opens the door for more conversation.

Maybe you should’ve expected that. You and Eren grew up together. Along with Mikasa and Armin, and everyone from your hometown. It shouldn’t surprise you that Eren is comfortable.

When you look at him, you see home. If your gaze lingers. even a second too long or if you think for a minute more than necessary, you’re caught in the web of memories you’ve spent your whole life making.

You wonder about your ex-boyfriend. The irony of it isn’t lost on you. Maybe it hurts because you understand perfectly. No matter how much you love after, there’s nothing like first love. If he saw that in her eyes, it’s all that much harder to feel angry.

The only thing keeping you grounded is remembering that you’ve tried before and it failed miserably. It sinks you when you float too close to your heartwarming nostalgia.

The acrid truth is that this is all temporary and circumstantial.

Every now and again you remind yourself you’ve just been very vulnerable. And Eren’s grounding presence is helping you.

Again and again, you remind yourself that.

“High school was so ass,” Eren leans back into the couch, stretching his legs out “Mrs. Carnegie was such a bitch,”

You give him an unimpressed look. He looks like you remember when he’s like this. Having changed into his own clothes, hair tied up messily. He’s adjacent to you on the couch, far enough to stretch his limbs comfortably.

“She was nice to me. She was a bitch to you because you kept interrupting class,”

He rolls his eyes.

“And who was I doing that for?”

Your heart skips a beat. .

“Man, whatever.”

He laughs at you.

“Weak come-back,” He hums, laying his head on the back of his couch. He tilts his head in your direction “I was a good boyfriend in high school at least,” He adds, a little softer.

“You were. You were kinda like a puppy,”

He groans.

“Don’t say it like that, that’s humiliating.”

“What are you talking about? Puppies are cute.”

“Yeah, but hearing that now is embarrassing. I’m a man now,”

You raise a brow.

“Men can't be cute like puppies?”

“No,”

“But Armin is right there,”

“Doesn’t count. He literally looks like a fairy prince. Statistical anomaly,”

That makes you laugh hard enough your stomach hurts.

“Why’re you laughing? Am I wrong?”

“You just said it so seriously. He is an anomaly but I think Connie is cute in a puppy way too,”

“Connie’s bald ass? Seriously?”

“Yes, seriously. I like it, his hair looks good buzzed.”

“You’d find something nice to say about a pile of trash,”

“I like your long hair, Yeager.”

He gives you an unimpressed laugh as you break out into laughter.

“Low fucking blow,”

“Cry,”

This time he laughs instead, throwing a pillow at you. You catch it easily, holding it to your chest.

“I do like the hair though. It’s all you ever talked about,”

He gives you a little smile.

“You remembered. I thought it’d make me look cooler. Alternative or whatever. Don’t know if it’s working,”

“Your fans seem to love it,”

He looks sheepish at the mention of his work. You laugh.

“It gets a mixed response. A lot of people miss the short hair. I mostly keep it long because it’s easier to style,”

“Both are nice. I like your short hair more when I think about it,”

“Yeah?”

“I guess it’s cause it was short when we’re growing up. And uh,”

“When we were dating?”

You give him a tight-lipped smile.

“Yeah. When we were dating, it was always short,”

He closes his eyes, suddenly deep in thought.

“You wanna know why I kept it short?”

You think you’d be better off not knowing.

“...Why?”

“When you’d play with my hair,” Subconsciously, he pushes his hair back a little “I could feel it better when my hair was shorter. Thought if I’d grew it, you wouldn’t touch it cause it’d get greasy quicker.”

All at once, you pull back. Whatevers on your face isn’t enough to make Eren waver when he looks at you. It’s easy to get lost in his eyes. Ocean blue, and full of something dark. Tempting like an abyss or a siren song. You swallow a lump in your throat.

“It’s something I’d do,”

The way Eren stares at you is so intense. You’re dancing around it now. What you both want to talk about it. A conversation that’s gone untouched for more than 4 years. Sober and aching. Different but the same.

Eren breaks the tension first. That’s twice.

“I’d cut my hair short if you asked me,”

You’re quiet.

“I’d do whatever you want,”

“Eren,”

“What?”

What do you say? Don’t? Please? What could you say that means more than his name in your mouth?

“You know what,” You say weakly “You know,”

A conversation you’ve had a hundred times before. It burns like bile rising in your esophagus. Crushed windpipes under the burden of love. Your hands grip the ends of the pillow tighter. He sits up straighter. You don’t want to talk about it.

“Do I?”

“Eren,” A warning.

“There’s not any point in talking around it, “ He shoves his hands in the pockets of his hoodie “Around this. Around us.”

“There is no us,” You correct sharply, shaking your head “Not anymore,”

His face doesn’t have anything you can read. You know yours must read of resentment. Eren is his usual blank.

“There could be,”

You shatter at the sentiment. The hopeful, easy way he says it. Like he doesn’t remember anything, and that you two are strangers. You know better that you aren’t. That no amount of healing can take it all back. Maybe you could forgive Eren, and somewhere far down the line - you could even be friends.

But us is impossible. You tried us. It blew up in your face.

“Fuck you for even saying that,” Your voice comes out garbled “Fuck you for even thinking it,”

“How is it fuck me? For wanting to fix our relationship, seriously?”

You hate him. With everything you have in you, with a burning fiery sort of anger. A resentment that’s spent years strangling you. Every time you’ve bitten your tongue, all the time you tried to fix it.

It’s all so messy and so unspeakbly touchy.

“The sooner you get it out of your head there’s a relationship to fix, the better off we’ll be,”

“Bullshit. Bullshit there’s nothing. I make you feel nothing?”

It’s not what you said. He knows that, but he means what he’s saying. And he knows your answer already because he’s like that. He already knows everything about you. Where to make you hurt, and how to make it sting. Eren is a scar, not a bruise. He stays, for as long as you’re alive. No matter how faint, or how healed - he stays a part of you.

He knows that as much as you do. That’s why it took you so long to leave. Of course you’d end up talking about it like this, but that’s not what you wanted. Or maybe it is. You don’t really know what you want from Eren. What you were hoping for when you stayed up late to talk to him and reminisce. You think just camaraderie.

“I hate you so fucking much,” You croak, wiping away angry tears “More than anyone in my life, I hate your fucking guts,”

“You don’t mean that,”

“I do,” Your reply comes in an angry hush “I can’t forget how we ended Eren. The months after I left were some of the worst of my life. Do you know how long it took me? To get better?”

His jaw clenches.

“I didn’t think you would leave,”

His confession stuns you into silence. His arrogance never fails to astound, Like this, it feels incredibly frustrating. Your stomach sours.

“...You thought I would stay? After everything?”

“You said you would,” He raises his voice this time. He sounds hurt. Angry. Sad. All things you didn’t know he could still feel “You—you fucking promised. It was supposed to be forever and you left first.”

“You can’t be serious,”

“You promised,”

“Yeah,” This time you sit up. Everything hits you at the same time “When I was 17 and in love. Before you treated me like shit,”

He winces. So he does know.

“You remember now, don’t you? You changed. You left for college, you stopped picking up my calls. You were such a fucking flirt that half of your campus thought you were single till I moved in. You remember that Eren?”

His silence makes you madder.

“You remember. right? How I’d desperately try and fix our relationship while you ran around doing whatever? You always looked so fucking indifferent. All we ever did was fight. Nothing I did worked,”

“Y/N—”

“I didn’t know anything other than you. If it was anyone else… But it was you,”

“I’m—”

“You used to tell me when we were kids that if any boy hurt my feelings, you’d kill him. You remember that?”

He closes his eyes.

“Don’t make it sound like I just up and left for nothing. We both know that’s bullshit,” You choke back a sob as you think about it. The gaping hole in your chest that Eren always left splits open again.

“I’ve always loved you. Always. From the minute I could walk and talk. I didn’t leave because I didn’t love you, Eren,” Even now, you don’t want him thinking that “I left because you didn’t love me. I left because I realized that”

The silence that follows your rant exhausts you so much you slump back into the couch. You learned your lessons the hard way. That love was meaningless to safety. That stability was a luxury few can afford. Nothing is guaranteed.

This second time around, you know that love can’t be one-sided. Maybe that’s what all of this has been trying to teach you.

You cry silently, taking in deep breaths. You have no idea what he’ll say, and you don’t know if you care.

“I’m sorry,”

“....What?”

“I’m sorry,” His voice breaks a little this time. You don’t remember the last time you saw him cry “I didn’t mean for things to end like that,”

“Sorry doesn’t fix it,”

You know it’s a mean thing to say. It’s not kind or forgiving. His sincerity doesn’t even feel real to you at the moment he says, but sorry doesn’t make you feel better. Sorry doesn't fix it.

“I know,”

“Then why say it?”

“I still love you,”

Drowning. You’re drowning in murky waters, hardly getting air.

“You don’t love me,”

“Don’t say that,” His voice sounds weak and desperate. You haven’t heard it like that in so long. Vulnerable “Even if you hate my fucking guts. I still love you, always did. Always.”

“Then why did you do that to me?”

“I was terrified,”

It’s been a long time since you’ve seen Eren. Spoken to him, or even called him on the phone. Years. Checking on him through his social media and streams was all you ever got. Sometimes Armin would fill you in, or Mikasa.

But Eren, in your eyes, had remained how you left him. He got arrogant you think. He got his fix and grew up to be tall and handsome. Had aspirations and grew out of his shyness.

And instead of growing together, you grew apart. You started to accept the fact that the Eren you loved was no longer someone you could reach. The young, doe-eyed lovesick boyfriend. Eren was just a college boy now. Not your only exception, not the love of your life.

Accepting that was the hardest thing you’ve had to do in your life.

So why does he sound like someone you used to love? And why now, of all times?

“When you talk like that, it makes me think you’re different.”

“I am,” He stops for a minute, hands folded “I’m trying to be.”

“...Why were you scared?”

“It’s uhm, I don’t know how to say it,”

“Take your time,”

“Doing long distance made me realize how much I needed you,” His voice is hardly over a whisper. “It was ego. But I hated that. I had it in my head that you were off with other guys, and I—I don’t fucking know—I was stupid. I wanted to feel like you still wanted me,”

“So what? You made me chase you?”

“Yeah. Something like that. When you moved in, it just… I don’t know. I saw how everyone looked at you. I didn’t think it would make me so angry to see you like that,”

“Sounds like…”

“Self-sabotage,” Eren interjects “That’s what my therapist said, at least.”

“You’re in therapy?”

“Only a few months, but yeah. It helps.”

“I don’t understand you at all,” You shake your head “ Not at all,”

“You bring out the best and worst in me.” He replies with a humorless laugh on his lips “Still. Around anyone else, it doesn’t matter. What they do or don’t do,”

“And me?”

“You,” He rubs a hand over his face, voice shaking. He tries to be lighthearted but the sentiment is sincere “I make myself sick thinking about you,”

It feels hot under your clothes.

“We shouldn’t be… I shouldn't—”

“I know. You drive me so fucking crazy and I get so angry. I know, but how the fuck could it ever be anyone but you?”

Your breath hitches.

“What’re you saying?”

“That I want you. I want you so fucking bad. I don’t want to ever be away from you ever again. I can’t help but want that,”

You can feel him coming into your space. How he scoots closer to you, just enough that he’s moving across the couch. He’s so much bigger than you remember. Stronger. It's all moving so fast. When he puts his hand on your knee, you tense but don’t move. The dizzying smell of his cologne catches on your tongue and tickles your throat.

His eyes dart down to your lips. His hands running up your outer thighs. You’re defenseless. Weak, you pull back a little. He doesn’t move.

“I can’t just forgive you overnight—”

“I know,” He leans in a little more. Close enough that his breath touches your skin “I’ll keep trying. I want to try again. I’ll earn it this time. I’ll chase you, and you can ignore me all you want,”

He’s being cheeky as much as he’s being serious. Classically Eren. You’re so screwed.

You feel your throat close up as he inches forward.

“You’re so bad for me.” You whisper, the words too heavy.

“Two sides of the same coin,” He says back, then he smiles “We’re made for each other. You think that too. I know you do,”

“I wanted stability,”

“I’ll try to give you it. If that’s what you want.”

“And if you’re just a rebound?”

“As long as I’m yours,”

“You’re such a scumbag.”

“I know,”

Everything falls from under you the minute you kiss him.

A little noise of surprise leaves his lips that instantly morphs into desire. It’s an uncouth display of emotions, so animal that you can hardly call it love. It’s something in between love and hatred, the opposite of indifference. All the intensity of life, of every terrible emotion you’ve ever had. You kiss Eren Yeager first because you miss him, despite yourself. Everything after that is just another blurry detail.

He moans into your mouth. Where your hand has landed on his chest, he grabs your wrist and then drags you into his lap without ever breaking apart. You end up over him, with his lap under yours.

When he has you where he wants you, he hugs you close to his body. You can feel the hardlines of muscle through his shirt, his arms secure around your back. Your tits are pressed against his chest, bra forgotten. The slightest brushes are what make you feel the most.

Eren’s shaky breaths and the overwhelming way his lips move against yours. Indecision in how to treat you. Soft kisses that are followed by rough ones. The intensity of your own desire consumes your ability to act cordial, as you squeeze against Eren tight.

You can feel the rapid beat of Eren’s heart in his chest, grinding your hips into his.

In between kisses, he makes sure to nip at your jaw. You can feel his teeth pierce your pulse point, his tongue lapping over the leftover wound that leaves you shaking.

He litters bites like that on every inch of your skin, your neck left with an ache. There’s something ironic in Eren licking your wounds over, but the words escape you before you can utter them.

Even in just being claimed, the feeling is intense. It makes you visceral. Not to be worked up from touch or words, but something else entirely. Something cosmic in it’s very existence.

Eren finally pulls away from you, just barely to glance at your swollen lips. He meets your eyes as his teeth sink into the lower one to make you whine. He talks to you while your eyes are locked.

“Fuck,” His voice is thick with lust. Heat splits you right in half “Fuck, fuck, baby. Been so long,”

“Y-Your hands,”

“Can’t take em off you,” They’re smooth as they feel you up. Shamelessly squeezing the fat of your hips in between in his fingers, grabbing your ass hard. A guilt creeps up for comparing him to your ex-boyfriend.

But all you can think about is how Eren is the opposite of stability. Images pop up of when you used to have sex, so many years before. He was meeker before, less assured. You thought his confidence would make you sick, but it doesn’t.

Rather, the look on his face while he gropes you makes you wet. Chewing his lower lip, feeling your body like he’s dying to see it under his clothes. Impatiently and unabashedly wanting you in a way that is distinctly Eren.

There’s truth in the sentiment that no one could ever fuck you like Eren could. It’s one you’ve kept to yourself for so long that you almost forgot it. Eren knew your body and shaped it to his hands years ago. You like being touched because of how he touched you, a memory you carried like a torch.

It was Eren who wanted you first, who fucked you first, who made you cum first when you were both so awkward and clumsy.

“Look at you,” He groans. His hands inch under your shirt, skin on skin. Pinching your nipples gently, till they’re hard against your shirt “Look how sexy you are,”

He knows what you like, what you like being told.

“My pretty fucking girl,”

Fuck. Of course, he remembers that.

“Oh, you—”

“So pretty,” He parrots. Even with electricity buzzing in his movements, he’s patient. Undresses you gently. When your skins bare, your shirt tossed to the other side of the room, he kisses the underneath of your tits. Each one, he kneads them. Appreciates them, worships them. All of that undivided attention that he always used to give you when you were dating.

When you were in love.

“You still like when I tease ‘em too,”

His tongue runs over your hardened nipple, sucking it into his mouth, His free hand occupies the other, taking time to give them both equal attention. Your body starts to ignite, little sparks of electricity flitting up your spine.

Letting your fingers card through his hair, you glance down. He looks up at you with his mouth full, eyes lidded. His lashes are long against his olive skin, sun freckles over the bridge of his nose. Your hands reach to touch the moles along his cheeks, all in places you remember.

You don’t resist the urge for intimacy. Not things you did with your ex, but with Eren. You press a kiss to his hairline and his hands get a little tighter. Your want expands, fills like a balloon.

Feeling his cock nudge against your shorts is surprising. A blush crawls over his face, grinding his hips up into you. It’s muscle memory to do it back - rocking yourself until he’s nestled between you. Dry-humping like this makes you feel like a teenager again, doing this in Eren’s dingy basement when you weren’t ready to lose your virginity.

Except Eren knows what he’s doing. He shifts his weight, sitting up enough to push up against your clit. His mouth deatches, a string of saliva in his place. The cool air against the swell of your tits make, adds to the sensation.

He grabs your ass again, this time just to push you up. To set a pace as you grind against each other.

“Wanna know something?”

You choke back a whimper.

“Mm,”

“I used to jack thinking about you,” His voice is slick when he speaks, a low whisper “Remember? You used to be too sensitive so you’d rub against the edge of your bed. Thought about it all the time after you told me,”

Your jaw drops open.

“You—”

“You’re a big girl now, aren’t you? Not too sensitive for this, but—,” He does it with more purpose, a long slow drag so you can feel his shaft against your clothed cunt “you still like it slow,”

“Eren, holy—”

“Everything you like,” He hums, this time matching how he moves you with his own body “Still remember every detail,”

“Y-Yeah?”

“Yeah baby,” He dips his head to kiss against the column of your throat again, this time sucking deep dark hickies. You can feel his lips when you moan “Everything. Kept me company,”

You’re almost too afraid to ask what he means.

“Eren,” You half beg, fingers twitching with want “Don’t tease me,”

“What do you need?”

“Uhm,” Embarrassed. For some reason, Eren asking you is making you embarrassed. You’ve never been before “This is so humiliating,”

“You were always shy about asking for it,”

“So why’re you making me, asshole?”

“I like watching you squirm,”

“Shut up, you’re awful,”

“Put something in my mouth, then?”

Your eyes go wide, and he smiles. His breath brushes against the shell of your ear.

“You wanna sit on my face, right? Shut me up,”

It was a stupid arguement you had. At the latter half of your relationship, sometimes the only way you two resolved things was sex. Eren referencing it makes you mad as much as it makes you wet.

When you were both a little inebriated, he used to beg you for it.The memories of that make you nod. Your voice is coarse with lust.

“Wanna sit on your face,”

“Take your shorts off,”

Taking off your clothes is haphazardly done. You and Eren part ways. He takes off his shirt and hoodie to reveal a body cut from pure marble. He was always athletic, but clearly his gym rat posting on his IG story were genuine and not for show. He sends you a little smirk when he catches you staring, flexing his muscles a little.

“Do I look good?”

You nod, awestruck as you wriggle out of your shorts leaving you in just your socks. Eren does the rest slowly, stood up and taking off his sweatpants His thighs are muscular, strong with a little dark hair. It’s on his stomach too, just barely there.

The fabric of his boxers strain against his cock. It’s big, bulges against the black material that you can see the skin. It’s intimidating to look at.

Your eyes follow him to the couch. You watch him get comfortable, moving pillows around to make sure there’s enough space. He flashes you a smile when he’s laid down, untying his hair as a last touch.

“Come here, angel,” He signals, waving you over “Come sit,”

The air brushes past you as you approach him. He reaches a hand out to lace with your hands.

“Face that way. So you can hold onto my hair, yeah?”

“Yeah,”

It takes you a minute. It’s easier to climb over his chest, inching towards his face. When you’re spread right over his neck, he gives you a cheeky grin. His hands reach over your thigh, pulling you apart. His eyes are zeroed in on your clit, finger brushing back the hair on you. The affectionate way he does both makes you want to hide away.

Eren is holding you in place so you can’t move.

“Look at that,” He whispers, breath fanning your cunt “Look at how wet you got for me,”

Instead of putting his tongue where you need it, he cranes his neck to one side and presses kisses into your inner thigh. Licking at the skin, he holds your eyes.

“Tell me something,”He goes an inch highe and leaves a hickey before repeating it a little bit aove “Did he ever get you this wet? You can be honest,”

Your clit throbs between your legs. Eren grins, as you squirm. You look down at him, shaking your head.

“Not like you. I mean, he wasn’t bad but he wasn’t—”

“But he wasn’t me, was he?” He goes on, his lips pressing right against your achy clit, arousal on his lips that he licks with ease “Could never be me, could he?”

“Eren,” You whine. His smile gets bigger, tongue licking one long stripe against your folds.

“Say it baby. That I’m the best you’ve ever had?”

Your reply is a meek yeah. It’s hard to do anything with confidence or self-assurance when your entire body is begging to be pleasured. Eren gives you a few more kisses on your clit, like he’s making out with it. It’s sweet and lazy, making your hips buck for more.

“I’m the same,” He coos, sticking his tongue out as he forces your weight down so you’re not longer hovering but sitting on his face “There’s nothing like you,”

He doesn’t hesitate to dive in right after that. Burying himself deep, your hands immediately fix at the base of his hair. He’s not shy about it, his tongue laid flat, creating just enough suction around to feel. It’s perfectly pracited, familiar.

Eren eats you out from memory. That much is obvious to you as soon as you feel him, the wet heat of his mouth and his tongue. It’s a measured build of pleasure, soothing a long-time ache that slowly escalates to something more.

A mewl escapes your throat. He moans against your pussy, nose bumping against you. Tugging at the roots of his hair, you wiggle your hips to get him to give you more.

You feel the coil in your tummy when Eren goes a little deeper, sucks a little harder, moves a little faster. Encouraging you to use him to the best of your ability as he pushes your hips, nails dug in the skin to keep you steady Looking down makes you see him completely blissed out, like he’s in a comfortable dream.

You don’t really remember the last time someone went down on you like this without asking. Like he’s enjoying it all on his own, like he wants you. There’s vigor to how he takes you into his mouth, tastes you greedily, with appreciative grunts and groans.

The word perfect falls flat to how Eren licks your pussy. Perfect is too prim, too neat. Whatever Eren makes you feel between your legs, is far from perfect. Eren is something more. More intangible, hard to touch. He eats your pussy perfectly, but messily. Desperately, lovingly. Every inch of you is wanted, tongue nestled against your folds and on your hard clit like he wants to stay. He looks at you intoxicated and it shows in how much joy he takes in tasting you. Hitched to your very existence, like a planet revolving around the sun.

He does it like it’s a privilege, a divine gift. Sucks like it’s sweet, ripe fruit in scorching summers. Water in an oasis, deserving of only the highest praise. Not worth wasting even for pride. Shameless.

You can feel yourself tipping closer and closer to the familiar edge. Each second pushes you to it, closer and closer and closer before you feel the feeling again. Deep in your body, undoing you completely.

“Eren, oh—”

You cum hard. It’s the first one, the most intense. Eren is unyielding as you hit your high and start to fall back down, catching on each layer of the ozone. You moan his name over and over, Eren, Eren, Eren. It’s all you can think to say. The only person you’d trust to catch you from this high, you fall foward. Hand gripping on the couch, you try to wiggle away but he won’t let you until he’s had his fix.

When he pulls away, he takes in a deep breath.

You lean back, catching sight of his face. It’s dripping down his chin. He reaches his hands to wipe it with his fingers, then sticks his hands up to you.

“Open your mouth up,” He says, pushing his fingers against your tongue “Or come down here and clean me up, maybe?”

You widen your eyes. Curiosity getting the better of you, you wiggle down until you’re face level with him. He gives you a glance, encouraging you. Unsure, you push your tongue out against his neck, tracing down to his adams apple. He groans, voice vibrating.

“Fuck yeah,” His hands comes around the back fo your neck “Just like that baby. That’s perfect,”

Your memory reminds you. You repeat your actions, tongue dragging over his nec and chin, presses kisses and bites all along his jaw and neck. Eren moans above you appreciatively. The sound is pleasing. Hearing it over and over eggs you on to “clean” him up well until you reach his lips.

The way he kisses you is sweet and gentle. He kisses your lips before peppering them on your face.

“Fuck, look at what you’re doing to me.”

“Making you sappy?”

“Already was. I’m so hard for you right now, it’s fucking stupid,”

You let out a whine.

“Mm,”

“Condoms upstairs,”

“Don’t need ‘em. ‘s fine. Just give it to me how it is,”

He shivers against your body.

“I wanna cum just thinking about it,”

“Don’t think about it and come fuck me,”

He laughs, handing coming down on your ass.

“Get up,”

You stand up and Eren follows suit. He gives you a quick peck before whispering in your ear.

“Bend over the edge of the couch for me,”

Shivering, you nod your head and walk beind the couch. You shoot Eren a look over your shoulder, seeing him ease his cock out of his boxers to give it a quick stroke. It’s just high enough that you struggle to get over it all the way. His eyes are piercing, watching you as you bend over like he asks. You push your ass towards him.

“Like this?”

“That’s perfect, angel. Stay like that,”

You can hear him coming towards you. The weight of his body, bare chest against your spine is almost startling. He’s not crushing you, but you’re still completely pinned under underneath him. You wriggle your hips back, struggling to move.

His hand creeps lower and lower, finger slipping through your folds. He feels you up like that for a while, whistling.

“You’re so wet,” He coos. His voice is smooth in your ear. You moan. He rests his chin just over your shoulder as you turn your head to kiss him. Slowly, he slips his middle finger inside. You’re surprised how little resistance there is really. The pad of his finger reaches far, rubs against your g-spot without second guessing it.

Your squealing makes him do it again. It’s a careful move. Your body responds to him eagerly as he slips another one, steady. Until he’s knuckle deep, stretching out unhurriedly. When it’s no longer a tight fit, he pulls away from you.

Over you, he repositions. You can hear him spit in his hand behind you, the way his palms move against his cock. It’s all completely quiet besides that, lewd little noises that clue you into what he’s doing. Not seeing him makes the anticipation greater, leaves you vulnerable to whatever he wants to do.

“Missed this pretty pussy so much,” He hisses, the head of his cock pushing past your folds until he’s snug against your hole. The muscle clenches “So fucking warm,”

“Eren,”

He pushes forward, a calculated push of hips. You both moan when he enters you. Just the tip, just the familiar curve of his cock. Your inside ache, deep inside. A place only Eren could reach, you think. He groans nto your ear. Your feet are barely touching the floor in this position, Hardly reaching the ground, toes holding you up. The back of the couch digs into your stomach. It’s puts a pressure on your lower belly, that Eren must feel.

All your muscles are tense. Tight. The tip of his cock rubs against your walls. He’s so hard. Intrusive. You clench around him again. Jaw agape, you moan as he pushes even further.

“See that?” He whispers, against the shell of your ear. His hands grab yours, putting them behind your back till your defenseless “She remember me,”

The moan you let out is entirely involuntary once it hits you he means your pussy. Your walls spasm around him. He chuckles at that.

“That’s right. She loves me even if you don’t, doesn’t she?” Pulling his hips back until your empty, he fills you again. Harder this time. You choke on air “We made love tonight, didn’t we?”

“Eren, shit”

“I like when you say my name baby,” He says, another thrust “Like when your pretty pussy welcomes me home. It’s mine, isn’t it? Always has been. Bet he wasn’t making you feel like this, was he?”

All at once, you feel Eren for what he’s worth. You feel his cock, the curve and the shape the weight as it drags inside of you. You feel the weight of his body, all the stretch in your thighs as he casts over you like a shadow. The gravelly way that he speaks reverberating in your bones. He’s fucking you like he’s all the way in the bottom of your stomach.

Like a puzzle piece, Eren completes you on a level no one else in the world could. The way he talks to you reflects his, confidence not unearned. He’s cocky and awful, but his dick is doing this to you. Making your mouth fall open until your drooling underneath him. He answers every craving you ever had, that bone-deep sense of dissatisfaction that you’ve spent an entire year burying.

Eren fucks you like he’s in love with you, and only you. His cock kisses your cervix, and it feels like the same kind done at weddings. A vow to you, a promise. It feels so fucking good when Eren fucks you. Nothing in the world could ever quite comparing to that satisfaction. Deep in your body, primal and hungry.

“You were made for me,” He pants in your ear “Made just for me. No matter how far you go, I’ll find you. Remind you that. You get it now?”

You whimper out loud. Yes comes out naturally. Eren kisses your shoulder blade before sinking his teeth into it.

“Knew you would,

Eren fucks you the only way he’s ever known to. Deep and paced. You can’t say how he does it with anyone else, but with you it’s always been the same. Like he’s carving you out with his cock, the way you’ve always needed. You know you’re starting to be close again with each thrust. It’s a memory that your body welcomes.

Eren knows what you need to cum, but he waits. Like always, he keeps at it until your walls are tremor. Until you’re just getting there, and you need the extra push to get you to your end. He keeps you at the end as he fucks you, whispers filthy things in your ear until you reach the point of desperation that you’re begging.

“Please, Eren,” At your limit, pleaing “Please make me cum,”

“There’s the magic word,”

He snakes a hand around, reaching your clit and giving it a gentle rub. Everything happens at once. It’s perfect motion. Equilibrium. You can feel your knees start to give in as he gives it to you, the tension gently easing out. A carbonated soda, cracked open slowly to make way for the big finish. The release. Eren speaks to you again.

“Cum for me angel. Give it to me,”

Like a seismic wave, you cum hard on Eren’s cock just like he asked. He’s not far behind you, thrusting through the waves of pleasures. Your brain melts out of your ears completely, babbling to him to give you his cum too.

And he does in record time, shallowly rutting into you until you’re full of him, shooting deep. You feel your insides painted white, content at the feeling.

When he pulls out of you, you feel it drip onto his hardwood floors. You’re unsure of what comes next, but he pulls you right into your arms. Into his chest, even with wobbly legs.

“I’m not gonna let you go again,” He assures, more to himself than to you “You’re mine. Forever and always,”

Against your better judgement, you give in. Just for now. Just for the time being.

#eren x reader #eren smut #aot x reader #aot smut #writing tag #toxic cw #cheating cw

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sinner-as-saint · 11 months

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you're no good for me.

Bucky x Reader AU

Run-through: After leaving a well-paying job you hated, you took the money you had saved and decided to roam around Europe: Paris, Monaco, Italy, Greece, trying to find a new purpose in life. That’s when you meet this drop dead gorgeous older man named Bucky. He’s respectful, funny, kind, flirty, and has a nice yacht. Honestly, he’s all you need at the moment. And together, the two of you embark on a journey that has potential to last a lifetime.

Themes: age gap (reader is in her twenties), fluff, sugar daddy!bucky (basically), smut, praise kink, nicknames: princess, baby girl, daddy kink, soft!dom!bucky, HEA.

a/n: inspired by this ask. Thank you @aquariusbarnes

“I guess I never realised solo travelling could get so… lonely, you know?”

You said quietly to your best friend on the phone while you browsed through second-hand books in a small, cosy little bookstore you found while staying in Italy for the week.

“Don’t get me wrong,” You chuckled, “I desperately needed this and I needed to get out of the city but, this is not doing what it should. All I do is eat, sleep, shop, and I have no one to talk to. I guess I can’t even make new friends anymore.”

Your friend sighed, “Of course you can! You should meet new people. Go to a bar, wear something nice, and talk to some guy. Seriously, get some!”

You laughed quietly. “I’m tired of the bar or club thing. That’s what we usually do in the city.” You groaned. “I need something new, and exciting, and-,”

A deep voice spoke from somewhere behind you. “Excuse me, miss.”

You turned around and had to blink a few times to register the sight in front of you. A god of a man. Tall. Well dressed in loose pants, white tank top and a delicious light blue shirt left open to show off his muscular chest. He had longish hair, tied neatly in a low bun. Pretty face, ocean blue eyes. Sharp jaw. And a slight smirk on his pink lips.

He looked older, maybe in his early forties? He radiated elegant masculinity. Very much old money. He looked like he belonged in some fashion show, or the cover of a magazine.

“Uh, I’ll call you in a bit.” You quickly ended the call and gave the man your full attention. “Hello.” You said softly, sounding a little confused as to why would a man like that even stop and talk to anyone.

The man gave you a stunning smile. “I noticed you dropped this.” He held out his hand and there was your tiny purse, in the palm of his large, veiny hands.

“Oh.” You sounded a little embarrassed as you quickly took it from him. “Thank you.” You said, looking up and meeting his dangerously enticing stare.

“Wow,” He said, with a little nervous chuckle. “You’re beautiful.” You froze at that and then he quickly added, “I’m sorry if that was too forward. It’s just… you really are beautiful.” He sounded so sincere, and you hadn’t had a proper conversation with anyone in weeks so you didn’t know how to act.

“Oh, um,” You let out a nervous chuckle too as you looked down at your shoes, embarrassed. “Thank you.” Then you added as a nervous ramble, “I think you’re really beautiful too.”

He smiled, then let out a little laugh which made your skin tingle in the best ways. He raised a perfect eyebrow and asked in his silky smooth, deep voice, “Then how about us beautiful people go get a drink and get to know each other a little better?”

You actually felt your face get really hot as you laughed, “So this is the part where I’ll wake up tomorrow and find out you took my kidney?”

He chuckled. “No, no kidneys will be taken, I promise.” Then he gave you a pretty smile, “Just one drink. You’re too beautiful for me not to steal an hour or two from your day. Else, I’m gonna regret it my whole life.”

“I see you get your way in and out of everything by being a smooth flirt, huh?”

You gave in. And said yes to having a drink with him.

—

One drink turned into a late lunch, then afternoon tea, then an early dinner. The conversation flowed so easily it surprised you. He told you mostly everything about him. You noted that his name was Bucky, he was in his forties, no immediate family as they had all unfortunately passed, he was a bachelor, a businessman, currently taking some months off work to travel and sail across Europe on his yacht.

While on a quick bathroom break, you googled him just to confirm and sure enough, he wasn’t lying. Also, the guy was much more wealthy than he let on. But you liked that. You hated men who bragged constantly.

When it was your turn to give him your back story, you were just as transparent as he was. You mentioned where you were from, how you moved to the city after uni once you found a decent job. You mentioned how although the job paid really well, you quickly realised that being a PA isn’t as glamorous as in the movies or books, but in fact so stressful and anxiety-ridden. So you quickly began hating your job and life. Hence the resignation letter and the sudden tickets to Europe.

“So, you’re here all alone? That’s brave I think.” He said, after you were done narrating your story.

You scoffed before taking a sip of coffee, “No, it's quite the opposite.” You argued, defeatedly. “I couldn’t handle it and I just got up and left. I quite literally packed my stuff and ran away from the city. And now I’m just roaming around, trying to see if I can find a new purpose, I suppose. That’s the opposite of brave. If I were brave I’d face it properly. Like an adult.” Your shoulders drooped down a little.

“Hey,” He said softly. Then reached for your hand and held it in between both of his warm palms.

This was the first time in the past hours where he touched you. He’d been so respectful so far, not once getting too close. But right now, as he held your hand lovingly and as his thumb gently caressed your knuckles, you realised you loved having your hand held by him.

“That’s not true at all.” He said. “You were strong enough to walk away from a situation you no longer wanted to be in, do you realise how brave that is?”

His voice was so understanding and soft, you immediately melted.

He continued, “I mean, you’re braver than me when I was twenty something.” He chuckled at the memory, “My father had just passed, and I was suddenly responsible for the family businesses. And…” He sighed, “How I wish I could’ve packed a suitcase and travel at that age, but I couldn’t. I was so lost at that time too.”

You watched him as he spoke. The intelligence and experience in his eyes. The crinkles by his pretty eyes as he smiled at something he remembered from the past. The sad smile when he mentioned his now dead family. He seemed older and wiser than his age.

“What I’m trying to say here is that you’re so young. This is your time to be selfish with your years. You don’t like a job? Leave it, find another. You don’t want to be in the city? Leave that too, travel the world. Of course, you must have some sort of makeshift plan of where you might want to be in the next five or ten years, but for the most part, live for right now.” He gave you an enchanting smile. “So tell me, where do you want to be right now?”

The sky began to turn darker. The golden lights from the restaurant made his eyes look magical. Deep blue, and shining like jewels. The chain around his neck caught the light and suddenly you wanted nothing more than to yank on it with your teeth…

Woah. Where did that come from?

“Just… away. For everything.” You answered, truthfully. Wasn’t that what you were looking for? An escape? Something new and exciting. And right now with your hand in Bucky’s warm ones, this felt new and exciting. And you selfishly wanted it. You wanted this.

“Come with me. Just for tonight. We won’t sail too far from the docks, I promise.” He said, holding your hand firmly in his. “I’ll bring you back tomorrow morning. Kidney and all still in place.” He teased.

You laughed. And said yes because fuck it.

—

Bucky walked with you till your hotel, and waited downstairs in the lobby while you got your things for the night. Once you met him back downstairs, he offered to carry your backpack while the two of you walked towards the docks.

Once you reached his yacht, you had to refrain from dropping your jaw. “Oh, she’s pretty.” You whispered as he held your hand and helped you onto it.

He smiled and said, “She’s my favourite.” Because of course he owned other luxury yachts.

The more steps you took inside the boat, the more mesmerised you got. He had a full staff even. Bucky gave you a quick tour, showed you the bar, the hot tubs, the main deck, and all. Then led you to a spacious bedroom.

“Get settled,” He said, “I’m just gonna get us out a bit further into the water.” He traced a gentle finger down your cheek and you found yourself nodding immediately. Then he paused, and said, “If you don’t wanna be down here alone, come find me at the helm. Okay, babygirl?”

You froze for just a fraction of a moment, then quickly smiled and nodded again. Bucky left with a wink and once the door closed behind him, you let out a loud sigh. Fuck, he was so dreamy.

Once he left and you explored the room a little bit, you realised you didn’t in fact want to be here all alone. So as the boat moved smoothly, you took a quick shower, got changed into your swimsuit, with a flowy beach cover up and went to find Bucky.

Finding the helm was easy. On your way there, you saw two staff members and they both smiled at you. For a moment you wondered if they were thinking of you as just another young girl on a rich man’s boat. Oh well, whatever.

You found Bucky standing in the middle of the area, facing multiple screens and the helm itself and so many buttons and switches it made your brain hurt.

“Hello captain.” You said, stepping closer to him. The sun was setting now, and it was all orange and pink, quickly becoming dark blue.

Bucky gave you a bright smile, “Hello you.” He grabbed your hand and placed it on the helm, “Here,” He came up and stood right behind you, both of you steering the boat, “There you go, keep it straight. Just like that, see?”

You laughed, while your heart raced both at the excitement of manoeuvring such a giant boat, but also because of how close Bucky was. Your back was right against his chest, but he was still keeping a good inch or two between your bodies.

“Alright,” He said after a while, “We’ll stop here for tonight. Come, the stars look great from the deck.”

He held your hand and led you out onto the spotlessly clean, spacious main deck. There was a circular fireplace in the middle, surrounded by sofas and a large hot tub in the corner. And the view… oh the view was to die for. The moment Bucky let go of your hand, you rushed to look over the handrail. The water reflected the colours of the sunset, and the sky. The stars began twinkling, the more you looked the more of them you found. The light summer breeze was just cool enough.

“It’s so beautiful out here.” You whispered, looking over at the shore, where more and more lights were turning on. You could see the place at which you’d just had dinner. You could also see the bookstore if you squinted. Just then, you felt a warmth press up against you.

You smiled as Bucky wrapped his arms around you from behind, placing his chin on your shoulder and holding you close. “Just like you, baby girl.” He whispered into your ear.

You froze again, a familiar warmth washing over you at the nickname. A tingling sensation between your things which made you want to clench them together. Bucky must've felt the way you tensed up because he pulled away immediately.

“I didn’t mean to make you-,”

You cut him off quickly as you turned to face him, “Oh no, no. I don’t mind that.” You laughed, now a little shy. “It’s just that,” You couldn’t look at his pretty face as you admitted, “you make me a little nervous.”

He laughed at that, and wrapped his arms around you once again. “Do I?” He teased.

You hid your face by shoving it into the crook of his neck, which made him laugh even more. You couldn’t help but breathe in his scent. Fuck, it had been messing with you the whole day almost. He smelt like sin. Like pure, dangerous sin. But then he had that sweet, bright smile. And the contrast was making you dizzy.

“Don’t hide from me, baby.” He held the back of your neck gently as he pulled your face back so he could look at you.

You almost kissed him right there and then. He looked so good in this golden sunset. But you didn’t want to seem too desperate so you-

“Can I kiss you?” He asked, cutting off whatever you’d been thinking about. “I’ve been wanting to do that all day.” He admitted, with a handsome smirk. “So, can I? Please?” He gave you the softest puppy dog look ever. And you melted.

You nodded once and the next thing you knew, he pushed you against the handrail and kissed you deeply. Lips soft against your own, his tongue stroking yours in a way that made you want to ride him until the sun came up the next morning. His hand remained at your waist, the other holding your head gently as he kissed you even deeper.

“Fuck,” He groaned against your lips. “Does all of you tastes just as sweet as your mouth, babygirl?” He chuckled when you whined and squirmed. “I can’t wait to find out.” He whispered before kissing you again.

Your brain was all foggy with desire. Your body warm and tingly under his touch. His mouth left yours and he kissed down your chin, and all over your neck and collarbones before kissing your lips again. “Bucky,” You gasped into the kiss when you felt his hand moving downward, towards your inner thighs.

“Too much, baby?” He asked, pulling away to look down into your eager eyes. “Are we moving too fast?”

You smiled up at him, “No. This is okay.” You grabbed his wrist and moved his hand even closer to where you desperately needed him. The thin swimsuit was all that separated his hand from the wetness accumulating at your core.

He held your stare as he moved the fabric to the side and carefully touched your throbbing clit. You squirmed, grinding against his fingers slowly. He chuckled, “Oh?” He smeared your wetness around a little more, “All that for me? Hmm?” He leaned in and kissed the corner of your mouth while his fingers moved up and down your wet slit. “Have you been this wet the whole time we were together?”

You couldn’t help but whisper a quiet, “Yes…”

He smirked, kissing your skin. “Why didn’t you tell me earlier? So unfair of you to keep this from me, babygirl.” He carefully slid a finger inside you, moving it in and out of you so slowly you couldn’t help but moan. “I would’ve taken care of you much sooner had I known you were dripping wet for me this whole time.”

You whined again at the sound of his shameless words. “Please…” You begged.

Bucky pulled away to look right into your eyes as he slid another finger inside you, moving both of them in and out of you while his thumb toyed with your clit. “Please what, baby?”

You squirmed, holding onto him for dear life while moving your hips in time with his fingers. “Please,” You begged again.

He smirked, “Use your words, princess.” He cooed. “Come on, tell daddy what you want and he’ll give it to you, baby.”

You bit your lip to keep yourself from moaning too loud, afraid the staff might hear what a dirty young woman you were being. “I want to come, please.” You whispered, face burning at the lust in your voice.

Bucky smiled in triumph. “There, wasn’t that easy?” He kissed your lips again, “Of course you can come, babygirl. You’ve been so good all day,” He said, “So kind and polite,” He chuckled, “Pretending like you didn’t want to climb into my lap anytime you looked into my eyes.”

You gasped, both in pleasure as his fingers touched a sensitive spot, but also because he had just read you like a book.

Bucky smirked. “What? You think I didn’t see it?” He leaned closer, lips brushing against your open mouth as he spoke, “I saw the way you looked at me. Longing and desire in your eyes. You just want to be taken care of. Just want a man to hold you and tell you it’s all gonna be okay and that you’re safe? Hmm?”

His fingers brought you right to that edge. You were a whimpering mess by then, his words making you even more dizzy.

“Look at me, baby.” When you did look up at him, he smiled softly down at you, “It’s okay babygirl, you’re with daddy now. You’re safe, and I’m gonna take care of you. Okay? Now, can you be my good girl and come for me? Hmm? Can you do that for daddy, baby?”

You came with a loud whimper, coming undone all over his fingers. Bucky watched you in awe, lips parted as he breathed deeper along with you.

“That’s a good girl,” He whispered, leaning in for a kiss. “You are so beautiful, babygirl.”

You kissed him back with even more passion than before, and your hands began exploring his body. His chest, down to his toned stomach, and further down… but then he stopped you by grabbing your wrists.

“Later, baby. I don’t want to rush.” He said. “I’m gonna take my time with you.” He promised. “Now come on, get in the tub. Don’t want you to get too chilly.” He pointed towards the tub and you began walking towards it. When you turned around you found him walking in the other direction, towards the mini bar.

You turned back around and headed over to the tub finally. You took the beach cover off and stepped in, nearly squealing with how perfectly hot the water was. Once you took your seat and submerged yourself till your shoulders, you noticed Bucky walked over with champagne flutes and a champagne bottle.

But not just that. He was also not wearing anything other than tight black boxers which left very little to the imagination. You had to turn your head just so you’d look away from the gorgeousness that was this man in front of you.

But of course, he caught the look. “Don’t look away, babygirl.” He said as he stepped in and sat down next to you, his thigh rubbing against yours, “You can look. I don’t mind.” He smirked, and winked at you before popping open the champagne.

He handed you a flute filled with bubbles and poured one for himself, set the bottle aside and clinked your flutes together. You each took a sip and you couldn’t help but close your eyes and moan at the taste. Expensive champagne always tasted heavenly.

When you opened your eyes again you found Bucky looking at you intently.

You smirked and asked, “What?”

He wrapped an arm around you and pulled you onto his lap. You put up no resistance as you settled onto his thighs, an arm around his neck. “Nothing. Just thinking about how you’ll moan with other things in your mouth.”

You chuckled. “Funny, I was thinking the same thing.” You replied, starting to get a little more playful around him.

He raised an eyebrow, “Oh?” Then leaned in and kissed your neck, making you giggle and pull away. “You’re ticklish I see.”

“Please don’t.” You yelped, and laughed as he tickled you even more. Champagne splashed everywhere, but Bucky didn’t seem to mind. “Stop!” You cried out in between uncontrollable giggles. Right as you were about to fall off his lap, he finally stopped. Kissing your face multiple times to make up for the tickle attack. Once you calmed down you said, “You’re mean. I think I wanna get off your boat now.” You teased.

Bucky tightened his arms around you. “No,” He groaned playfully, “I’m sorry, I’ll make up for it. Right now, I promise.”

One moment you were on his lap, and the next he was lifting you up and sitting you down on the edge of the tub. The handrail was right behind you to support your back, and you giggled as Bucky knelt in the warm water, right in between your thighs.

“What if someone sees?” You asked, looking around to see if you’d find some of the staff members around the deck.

Bucky placed both of his hands on your things and got closer to you. “They won’t.” He assured you. “Now come on, spread those legs for daddy.” He demanded, and you obeyed.

You leaned back into the handrail and parted your legs. Bucky smirked, grabbing the backs of your knees to pull you closer, lowering himself and leaning in until his mouth was right above your core.

“Don’t even try to hide your moans from me. You hear me?” He questioned, holding your stare.

You nodded.

“Say ‘yes daddy’.”

You squirmed, pushing your hips closer to his mouth involuntarily. “Yes, daddy…” Your words ended on a gasp as he placed his mouth down and licked along your slit through the fabric of your swimsuit.

He placed a soft kiss right over your throbbing clit before he finally slid the thin fabric to the side and looked up at you, held your stare as his wet tongue licked down your folds. He moaned loudly as he tasted you. “Knew you’d taste like heaven.” He murmured, going in for more. Eager and impatient to make you come all over his tongue.

Your hands immediately grabbed the back of his neck, fingers sliding into his hair and gently messing up his neatly tied bun. You giggled at the sight, “I’m sorry I’m messing up your hair.” You whispered, followed by gasps of pleasure as he ate you out relentlessly.

Bucky pulled away for a moment, looking up at you. “I must be doing terrible if you can still speak coherent sentences, babygirl.” He smirked. “I’m sorry, let me do a better job. Hmm?”

You opened your mouth to tell him that he was just perfect but you ended up whining loudly instead as he parted your wet lips and pushed his tongue deeper into you. You threw your head back, resting it on the handrail as you moaned shamelessly, occasionally giggling as his fingers all over your thighs made you slightly ticklish.

His warm tongue stroked you so perfectly, and Bucky growled as you lost control, moving your hips instinctively against his mouth as you chased that feeling of pure bliss.

You whined loudly, goosebumps all over your body. You felt tingles shooting through you as his tongue teased you incessantly. Your fingers tugged harder on his hair, messing it up even more.

“That’s better, isn’t it?” He murmured, before moving his mouth upward to suck on your throbbing clit. “You look so pretty like this, baby. All open for me to taste, whining and whimpering…” He playfully bit your inner thigh, “What is it?” He asked as another loud moan escaped your mouth. “Too much? You want to come? You want more? What is it, huh? Tell daddy what you want.”

You just looked down at him, whimpering as you tugged harder on his hair, trying to get his mouth back on you. Your reaction made Bucky chuckle.

“No,” He cooed, “Use your words, baby.”

Damn him.

“Oh please,” You whined, “I want you. I want your mouth… please daddy,” You cried out, trying to clench or rub your thighs together for some kind of friction but his muscular body being between them stopped you from doing that.

Seeing your desperation only deepened his smirk, and increased the mischief in his eyes. “Such a good girl,” He murmured, biting down on your inner thigh before gently pushing his tongue inside of you again. You whimpered under his agonisingly soft touch.

Bucky looked up at you as he teased you with his tongue, the intensity of his gaze making you tremble. The sky was getting darker, the stars shining more and more now. And yet, you couldn’t look away from his ocean blue eyes.

“You’re all mine, babygirl…” he whispered, thrusting his tongue deeper into you. You moaned and whimpered, your body getting warmer and warmer with each touch of his tongue. “Say it.” He demanded, licking up and down your slit, making you grind on his tongue. “Tell me you’ll be mine. Tell me you’re daddy’s good girl.”

You cried out, “I’m daddy’s good girl…” You felt your walls tighten around nothing, and you knew you were close.

Bucky could tell as well. “Then come for daddy, babygirl.” He whispered against your skin before biting down on your inner thigh as you whined under him.

You could only moan and whimper as he kept licking deeper into you. You felt him quicken his pace and you felt the pressure building up in between your hips until you couldn’t handle it anymore and you came undone all over his lips, moaning and whimpering. Humming in satisfaction, Bucky kissed his way up your body again, until he reached your mouth. Carefully, he pulled back into the tub and on his lap as he kissed you deeply.

The warm water felt heavenly, but nowhere near how good his tongue had felt just seconds ago. You sighed in pleasure through the kiss, and you felt him smiling against your lips before he pulled away to look at you.

“Where have you been all my life?” He asked, looking no less than a god in that tub. The soft lights made his eyes look ethereal. The darkening sky as a background made him look even more godly.

You smiled at him, wrapping your arms around his neck as you straddled him. “Stuck in a city I don’t like. Doing a job I hated. Surrounded by people I no longer could relate to.” You joked, hiding the painful truth in your words.

Of course, he caught the sadness in your eyes. “Well, you’re here with me right now. Forget about the city, the job, and the people.” He leaned in and pressed his forehead to yours, he said, “It’s just you and me right now, princess. Just us, and no one else.”

You smiled, closing your eyes. Warmth from the bubbling water, warmth from his body, the cool breeze, the scent of summer and excitement in the air, it all surrounded you and it couldn’t have been more perfect.

“More champagne, baby?” He asked, pulling away.

“No,” You said, giving him a look he knew all too well. “How about we go inside now?”

Bucky smirked, already moving to grab towels. “Whatever the princess wants.”

—

You and Bucky made a quick stop in the kitchen found in the lower levels of his yacht, to grab some snacks. You held on to your chocolate fondue and strawberries while he held the other goods. And once you made it to the lovely bedroom, the two of you ended up lounging on the bed, just eating and talking about random stuff.

“Wait,” You said, swallowing down a mouthful of rich chocolate and strawberry. “You haven’t been in a relationship in over ten years? A whole decade?” You questioned, right after he finished telling you about how he hadn’t.

Bucky gave you a funny look. “I’m a busy man, babygirl. I didn’t have much time.”

You frowned, confused. “Well surely you’ve liked someone. Or are you too busy to have a crush and all that?”

He chuckled, and you along with him. “No, I haven’t. I guess it’s been just work and more work.”

You sighed and shrugged, reaching for another juicy strawberry, “I can’t even judge you, I haven’t been dating for years either. My last relationship…” You trailed off, “It doesn’t matter, I-,”

Bucky cut you off by grabbing your arm and pulling you on top of him, making you straddle him again. “No, it matters. Tell me what happened.” His tone was serious, caring, and attentive.

You sighed again, “Well, it ended badly. We were both too young I suppose, and then he cheated and we were on and off for a while before I ended it a few years ago.”

Bucky cupped your face, “You deserve so much better than that, baby. You hear me?”

You nodded, smiling down at him. “Look at me now,” You teased, then finally took a bite out of the strawberry, unintentionally moaning. “Oh fuck…” You whined, “This might be the best thing I’ve ever had in my mouth.” You said.

Bucky smirked, grabbing your hips and pulling you closer, “You know, I could give you something even better to put in your mouth, princess.”

You swallowed your fruit and smirked down at him. “Oh?” You played along. “What’s that?”

He caressed your cheek lovingly, “Want daddy to show you?” You nodded enthusiastically. And he said, “Okay, get on your knees, baby.”

You shifted from his lap to kneel in between his legs and in the meantime, Bucky was undoing the towel from around his waist. The sight of his erection had you almost begging just so you could have a taste.

“Do you want to take daddy in your mouth and make him feel good, princess? Hmm?” He gently grabbed your chin so you couldn’t look away from him. “Do you want to make daddy come? Make him feel so good that he fills your mouth with his come, baby?”

You nodded quickly, “Yes. I do.” You couldn’t calm your racing heart as you watched Bucky lean back into the pillows, making himself comfortable while you knelt in between his muscular thighs, his cock pointing up… looking too good not to wrap your mouth around it.

“Go on then, baby.” Bucky’s hand slid into your hair as you leaned down and took him into your mouth.

You moaned, with Bucky’s cock in your mouth, at how good he felt. Warm, thick, veiny.

“Your mouth feels so good, princess,” Bucky cooed, tugging on your hair gently. You looked up at him and took him even further into your mouth. “There we go,” He gasped, “Careful baby, I don’t wanna hurt you.”

You whined, that caring tone of his driving you insane. Bucky held your head gently and slowly pushed himself deeper into your mouth. “That’s it, you’re doing so good, babygirl. You look so pretty with my cock in your mouth.” He said as you took him in until he hit the back of your throat. “Now be a good girl, and make daddy come.”

You did as he asked, moaning around his cock and using your hand to play with what you couldn’t fit in your mouth.

“Oh princess, you’re so good to daddy.”

Bucky’s groans and moans were delightful. His head thrown back, eyes closed, lips parted slightly as he breathed deeply, occasionally grunting or moaning while you worked to make him come.

“Just like that, babygirl, come on make me come in that pretty mouth.”

You could feel the wetness starting to leak from you again. Fuck, this was so hot. The sounds he made, the sounds your mouth made, the desire and warmth washing over you… it was all too much.

You teased his tip with your tongue, alternating between sucking on it and taking him deep in and out of your mouth until Bucky came with a growl, his grip tightening on your hair for just a moment before he went limp. Chuckling as he emptied into your mouth, and watched you swallow all of him.

“Fuck, baby…” He groaned, “Come here and give me a kiss.” He said once you pulled him out of your mouth and you didn’t hesitate to climb onto his lap again, pressing your mouth against his.

You moaned into the kiss, slowly grinding down on his thigh trying to alleviate the sweet pain in between your legs.

“You’ll be the death of me.” He murmured against your lips, then went in for a kiss again before groaning, “Oh babygirl, daddy’s gotta have you now.” Then he flipped the two of you around, hovering above you as he smiled down at you.

“Is this okay, babygirl?” He asked, caressing your face lovingly. “You still want daddy to make you feel good?”

You trailed your hands up and down his muscular back, and nodded. “Yes,” You smiled up at him, then the chain dangling from his neck caught your eye. Without thinking, you grabbed it in between your teeth and yanked on it playfully.

Bucky laughed looking down at you. “Is that what you want? The chain?” With one hand he got it off of him and put it over your head, you pulled it down until it rested on your neck. “There,” Bucky said, leaning down to kiss your neck, “First gift from daddy to his princess.”

You chuckled, “Why thank you,” You pulled him down for a kiss. He deepened the kiss, his hand drifting down in between your bodies, getting rid of the towel that had been hiding your body from him.

“You are so beautiful,” He whispered against your mouth as his hand touched you everywhere. “Wait, are you on birth control?” He asked.

You chuckled, “Yes, don’t worry.”

“Oh fuck, baby I can’t wait.” He groaned, pulling away to look down at you, “Can I fuck you now? Please? Can daddy make you feel good?”

Your head spun with how badly you wanted him. Especially given how he shamelessly slid his tip up and down your slit. You nodded immediately, “Yes.” You said, “Yes, please.”

He leaned in for a kiss again. He kissed your skin from your mouth to your neck as he carefully slid into you, so gently. “Tell me if I hurt you, baby.” He breathed into your ear. “Is this okay?” He asked, looking down at you. His pretty blue eyes so caring and gentle.

You nodded, “I’m okay.” You whispered, feeling warm all over.

When he pushed even deeper, your walls welcomed him perfectly and he moaned under his breath as he filled you up entirely, inch by inch. You gasped and moaned as he moved so slowly you almost lost your mind.

Bucky swore. Your warmth wrapped around him, gripping him so perfectly he couldn’t help but just stay still for a moment and just enjoy the feeling of being inside you. “Babygirl, you feel so perfect for daddy. Look at me,” Once you did, he smiled down at you and said, “That’s it, keep your eyes on me while I fuck you, okay? I need to know I’m not hurting you.” He said.

That only made you wish he’d fuck you like an animal. You groaned, “You’re not hurting me,” You said, “Please, daddy. Please fuck me harder.”

He chuckled, “There she is,” He whispered into your ear, “You’re daddy’s dirty little girl, aren’t you?” Bucky laced your fingers together and pinned both your entwined hands above your head as he sped up into you. Fucking you nice and hard, “Does that feel good, baby? Hmm? Does my pretty princess feel good?”

You nodded, moaning shamelessly, “Yes… more, more please.” You cried out, throwing your head back as he started rocking in and out of you.

He leaned in and kissed your lips again, “I said eyes on me, baby.” He groaned, panting against your lips as he fucked you deeper. “Look at me.”

The air around you got warm again as you met his heated stare, his movements were slightly rougher, but passionate and loving. His hips rolled against your body perfectly, and his body weight pressing down gently on you was comforting and intimate. His grip around your hand tightened each time you’d moan his name under your breath.

“Oh babygirl, you’re all mine.” He whispered against your lips, and leaned in to kiss you deeply while he deliberately stroked his cock against your walls as slowly as he could just to make you whine and whimper even more under him.

When he pulled away to look down at you, his stare was intense, but loving. His lips were full and swollen as he looked down at you like you were the most precious thing he’d ever seen. You felt his cock hit all the right spots each time he moved against you, and his lips parted and he groaned the moment your walls started clenching around him.

He moaned at how tight you felt around his throbbing cock, and leaned down to whisper in your ear. “Come for me, babygirl…” He whispered, voice strained and gravelly which sent chills down your body. “Come for daddy,” He growled.

His voice was enough to take you right to the edge. You felt the pressure and the familiar, sweet pain in between your legs, making you gasp for air and your walls clench violently around him. You moaned loudly again, wantonly.

His hands reached down and grabbed your sides gently, keeping you in place as he sped up into you, his cock slipping in and out of you with ease. Your bodies moved perfectly against each other. He held you as close to him as he could, pushing his face into you and nuzzling your neck as he fucked you relentlessly.

“Oh baby, you take this cock so well,” He growled into your ear, making your brain all foggy. “Look at you, so fucking beautiful while you take all of me in there, huh?”

With a few more strokes of his cock, you came undone with a cry of pleasure, gushing out all around him, grinding against him eagerly while he moaned against your lips as he came right after you, filling you up.

“Fuck,” He gasped, getting off of you quickly and holding you close to him as you caught your breath, “Are you okay, babygirl?” He asked, kissing your head.

You ended up giggling as you came down from that high. A place so far away that no one ever took you before. “I’m okay,” You said, “I do want some cuddles though.”

Bucky chuckled, “Whatever my princess wants,” Then pulled you into him, spooning you from behind. “Get some sleep, baby. I’ll wake you up tomorrow.”

–

The next morning, neither of you could get your hands off each other. So that meant spending half of the day in bed. And by mid-day when you said that maybe he should take you back to the shore, Bucky refused.

“Just spend another night with me. Please, babygirl.” He begged with those puppy dog eyes. “I’ll take you back to your hotel room tomorrow morning, I promise.”

–

He did take you back. But not to drop you, because he had convinced you to check out, take your things and move them to his boat.

“We’re travelling to the same countries,” He said, “Let's just take the boat and go together.”

You ended up spending two whole weeks with him after that conversation. Going into the third week, you forgot all about real life. All that existed were these perfect days with Bucky; sailing around Europe, watching sunsets and sunrises and stargazing, having amazing sex, and repeat.

–

Reality hit you like a freight train one night when you finally remembered to charge your phone and realised that you had forgotten to update your friends and family about your location and whose company you were in. You scrolled through the endless missed calls, emails, and unanswered texts, and quickly responded to some of them.

You didn’t get much sleep that night, not only because Bucky kept you up until the early hours of the morning, but because you were scared of having to get back to the real world.

Bucky found you out on the main deck that morning. You leaned against the handrail, looking at the sun that would rise in a few minutes, wearing nothing but one of his shirts. He stayed a few steps back, just admiring you.

But you knew he was there. You could always tell he was watching. So you looked over your shoulder and gave him a smile, “Good morning, handsome.”

He rushed over and wrapped his arms around you. “I can’t get over how good you look in my clothes.” And when you didn’t respond with something sassy as usual, Bucky knew something was wrong. “What is it, baby? Are you okay?”

You turned to face him instead of the sunrise, and just said it. “I should go back home. I’ve been away for longer than I should’ve been.” You watched how he frowned at you, his eyes still a little sleepy. His hair was tied into a messy, low bun.

You knew you’d never be able to forget this man. Even if you go back home and get sucked back into a cycle you wanted no part of. You couldn’t help but touch his face gently, caressing his cheek.

“But,” He said, a little confused still, “We’re having fun, aren’t we, baby?” He leaned closer, holding you tighter. “You can stay. You should stay, you hate that city.”

You nodded, “I know. But I can’t stay here forever, Buck.” It hurt to even say it.

“Why not?” He argued. “I’ll take care of you. Haven’t I been taking care of you?” He questioned, leaning in to kiss your cheek. “Please babygirl, don’t leave me.”

You gasped softly as he kissed and nibbled on your skin, his mouth moving all over your neck. “I.. I need to go home at some point.” You said.

Bucky pulled away to look at you. The sky began to get lighter. His eyes still shone like jewels. “And where’s that?” He asked. “Where’s home, baby? Hmm? In that city you don’t like? Surrounded by people you can’t relate to? Stuck in some job you hate?” He returned the words you’d said to him the night you first met.

And for some reason, that made you tear up. The thought of the life before him. “I… I don’t know.” You said, lips quivering as a tear fell down your cheek.

He quickly wiped your tears away, “Baby…” He whispered, “That’s not a home, princess. Home is supposed to feel warm, free, and happy. Are you happy or free in that city?”

You shook your head. “No,” You sniffled. “But I can’t just keep running.”

“Just be with me. Here.” He said. “This isn’t running, this is us having fun.”

“Well, you’ll have to go back to real life at some point too. What then?” You asked.

He gave you a smile, “I’ll take you with me when I do, princess.”

You scoffed, “Bucky, I’m serious.” You said.

“So am I.” He insisted. “Stay with me, babygirl. I’ll take care of you. You know I will.”

You sighed, and wiped away your own tears. “And then what? Make you my sugar daddy?” You joked.

“Like that’s such a horrible thing.” He argued.

You rolled your eyes at him, tried to get out of his arms but he wouldn’t let you. You faced him again, “I can’t do that.”

“This is gonna work.” He insisted again. “Just stay with me.”

“We’ve known each other for mere weeks.” You said, thinking back on how these mere week have been some of the best days of your entire life.

Bucky gave you a wise smile, and said calmly, “I’ve been in relationships that have lasted months, and even years, and yet no one has ever made me feel the way you did these past few weeks.”

You shed another tear, “I’m a mess, Buck. I don’t even have a job.” You chuckled humorlessly, then sniffled.

“I’ll get you a job.” He offered.

“No.”

“No?”

“No.”

“Okay then, whatever you want, princess.” He said, holding you close. “But I can't let you go. I won’t.”

“You’re awfully stubborn.” You whispered, hiding your face into the crook of his warm neck.

“Stay with me.”

“Bucky…”

“Baby.”

“What am I gonna tell my parents?” You questioned. “Oh I found a really kind, charming and handsome older guy who took me on a nice ride on his nice boat and I think I’m gonna move in and start living with him?”

Bucky chuckled. “I took you on more than just a ride on my boat.”

You shoved him playfully. Then relaxed into his arms again. “I’m scared, Buck.” You admitted.

“I’m not.” He said firmly. “Baby, we’ll figure it out. Tell me you don’t want this. Look me in the eyes and tell me you wanna leave what we have right now and go back to the city.” He pulled away to look at you. “Tell me that truthfully, and I’ll let you go. Can you do that?”

You sighed, tears filling your eyes again. “No,” You whispered. “I don’t wanna go.” You said, “But I’m scared.”

“Shh,” He hugged you close again. “I’ve got you, babygirl.”

You wrapped your arms tightly around him, breathed in his scent and wanted to cry some more because this man was so dreamy. “What if you stop liking me?”

“Hey.” He chided playfully.

“I’m just saying. What if?”

Bucky pulled away to look down at you again, “Why would you ask me that? Is it really that hard to believe that I love you? Haven’t I shown it to you these past weeks?” He questioned.

Your eyes widened. “Oh. You love me?” You didn’t mean for it to sound like you were teasing him, but it did.

Bucky rolled his eyes. Whispering under his breath, “You’re such a brat.” As he tried to pull away, you tightened your arms around him to stop him.

“No, no, don't go anywhere.” You chuckled at the expression on his face. “Tell me more about how much you love me.”

He gave you a kind smile, leaned down to kiss your forehead and whispered, “How about I show you?”

So you let him show you. And you stayed.

And the life you had together couldn’t have been more perfect.

#bucky barnes #bucky barnes au #sebastian stan #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes smut

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slttygeto · 9 months

Text

CURSING MY NAME, WISHING I STAYED.

જ⁀➴ synopsis: you never got the chance to say goodbye to each other in 2007, you never thought you needed to. ten years later, you are still unable to find the right words as you stand in front of his lifeless body. if suguru geto was truly dead, who was the man standing in front you almost a year later?

જ⁀➴ content warning: angst, hurt/no comfort, manga spoilers, slapping and choking.

જ⁀➴ word count: 1,4k

જ⁀➴ note: this was requested about a year ago and I only got the chance to work on it today. enjoy :)!

You never associate Suguru with spring, despite it being such a lovely season, you remember it being the one season where he decided he needed to pull away. It was subtle, but you could feel it. He ate less, spoke less, he didn’t want to hang out as usual. You didn’t go on missions anymore, but you tried to be present. Even when summer came around and all hell broke loose.

You associate Suguru with autumn. Satoru doesn’t say a single word when you say it loud, when you tell him that that the orange leaves falling down and painting the road remind you of your past lover, how your love for him felt that way when he left—fragile, easily crushed. But Satoru would beg to differ. He could see it in your eyes, how they refuse to meet his when Yaga brings up the man’s name. It hurts to lose a best friend, but it hurts even more when you have a best friend and a lover in the same person.

Ten years later on Christmas Eve, Satoru has to put his best friend to rest. He doesn’t need to call you or tell you where he is, you just know. You show up as Suguru is taking his last breath and you stand there, unmoving. Your love for Suguru didn’t feel like autumn anymore. The tears running down your face were warm, and your chin was quivering as you let out a pathetic sob.

“I’m sorry.” What was Suguru apologizing for? For killing people or for betraying the people he loved the most? You couldn’t bring yourself to say anything, didn’t even bother to wipe the tears blurring your vision. You just stared at him, how a smile was dancing on his lips as he saw the two people he loved the most standing in front of him.

“Perhaps in another life,” Suguru’s voice is quiet, and you seem to take notice of how pale he looks. “I am who you’ve always wanted me to be.”

You wanted him to be many things, but it seemed unfair for him. If Suguru was truly unhappy while in Jujutsu high, then maybe you were never meant to be together. If he couldn’t wear a heartfelt smile in this world, then perhaps destiny played its cards wrong. If you were never able to keep Suguru around, then Suguru was never yours to keep in the first place.

You watch as the life slowly fades out of his body, and Satoru turns away from the corpse of his best as you kneel down in front of it and hold his lifeless body in your arms, the heart wrenching sobs that you let out force the strongest sorcerer to stand behind you and place a hand on your shoulder.

“It’s time to go.”

“You’re late, (name).” You never associated Suguru with autumn after his death. In fact, no season could do your past lover justice. Yet the person standing in front of you reminded you of winter—cold, mean and lifeless.

Why was Suguru standing in front of you?

You and Satoru are unmoving as the familiar body of your best friend and lover approaches the two of you. You don’t speak, your lips are frozen as you stare in shock at the same person whom you’ve been mourning his death for the past twelve months.

Geto Suguru passed away on December 24th. You’ve been mourning his absence for almost a year—so who was this person standing in front of you?

“I don’t remember you being this quiet, my love.” The pet name sent shivers down your spine, and you watched as the hand of your past lover reached towards your face to hold it. You craved this, to be held by him again after so long, to feel the warmth of the one person who promised you a lifetime of happiness—only to break that promise so soon. You pull away harshly when the tip of his fingers touches your cheek, and Geto Suguru seems to find your hesitance extremely funny.

“Who are you?” You step back towards Gojo, and you don’t need to look his way to know that he was just as taken aback as you were. Wide blue eyes staring in shock at his best friend—his one and only. It was sad that Geto Suguru (while he was still alive) was your enemy for longer than he was a loved one or a best friend.

“Geto Suguru of course.” Liar.

“My six eyes…” Satoru starts, and your heart breaks at how panicked he sounds. “My six eyes are telling me that you are Geto Suguru.”

But he wasn’t Suguru. This wasn’t the man you fell for, nor the man you fought last year. You refused to believe that he somehow came back to life. Not when you kneeled in front of his corpse and held him in your arms.

“But my soul knows otherwise! So hurry up and tell us, who the hell are you?!”

It’s a gut wrenching feeling as you watch the man in front of you open up Geto’s head and toy with it as he wished. He lets out an ugly laugh, one that doesn’t match Suguru’s beauty.

“It’s a cursed technique that allows me to hop between bodies by switching brains. Of course, it lets me use the innate techniques within the body, I coveted his cursed manipulation and these exact circumstances.” His eyes then land on you and a sinister smile is dancing on his lips.

“You,” he starts, taking one step forward towards you. “As pathetic as you seem in this man’s memories, begged Gojo Satoru and Shoko Ieiri to not get rid of Geto Suguru’s body, am I right?”

As pathetic as you seem in this man’s memories.

You didn’t know what to react to first. His words felt like a thousand burning knives, each one stabbing you from a different side. You fight back the urge to jump on him, you know you’re at disadvantage because Satoru was bound to this prison realm.

“I did.” Your response is short and quick, and the man in front of you chuckles at how dry you sound.

“He loves you a lot, you know?” Kenjaku pauses for a second, and the time he takes before continuing makes you feel as though he was mocking you. “Always wished he could trade places with the strongest sorcerer. You two were close, it always nagged him.”

This wasn’t true. This could never be true because Satoru and Suguru were closer than ever. You don’t remember a single instance where you felt as though Suguru was jealous of his best friend. This man was trying to shatter you in hopes of trapping you the same way he trapped Gojo Satoru.

“How are you gonna let yourself get used like this, huh?” Satoru sounds enraged. “Tell me, Suguru!”

You are just as shocked as Kenjaku when his neck twists, a sign of resistance when hearing Satoru’s loud yell. It was almost as if he heard him and wanted to wake up, to free himself of the man who was using his body to toy with the feelings of his loved ones. He then laughs, and again it sounds evil as he shakes his head in disbelief.

“Ha! No way! This is a first for me,” his eyes then fall on your frozen figure and by the look on his face, he was up to no good.

His hand makes its way towards you and wraps around your neck, you get that his intention was to choke you. But when his hand refuses to squeeze around your neck, the look on his face turns into an annoyed one. Kenjaku couldn’t hurt you, Suguru didn’t let him.

Unfortunately, he still had more control than the original soul occupying the body and his hand manages to grab your neck and push you up against the wall, knocking the wind out of your chest.

“You’re getting in the way.” No matter how hard Gojo tried to shift the attention back on him, Kenjaku seemed to want to get rid of you and as fast as possible. You find yourself thrown next to Satoru, tied up in similar bounds.

“Goodnight, my love.” His hand caresses your cheek, and you’re forced to feel his cold touch against your skin. You hear a smack and your cheek stings, teary eyes forced to stare into his cold ones when he roughly grabs your jaw.

“Let us meet in the new world.”

2023 ; all works belong to @ slttygeto. do not repost my works on any other platofrm.

#moon's works #jujutsu geto #geto suguru #geto x reader #geto x you #getou suguru x reader #jujutsu kaisen #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jjk geto #jjk x reader #jjk angst #jjk season 2 #jjk spoilers

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starry-bi-sky · 3 months

Text

I'm in A Mood™ (stressed) so im going back to my roots of melting two character together into one person. So bruce wayne!danny fenton. Danny Fenton who, for eight years, grew up in a beautiful gothic manor with his mom and dad under the name "Bruce Wayne". Playing piano with his mother, running around the manor with his father.

Then when he's eight it's ripped away from him. There's blood on his hands and pearls pooling at his feet, and both his parents are dead in front of him.

And he gets shipped off to distant relatives "the Fentons" shortly after, Alfred close on his heels because someone needs to take care of him, someone that knows him. Bruce goes to the Fentons for the safety of anonymity. Gotham's press wants to sink its teeth into him.

Danny misses his city even if it took everything from him. There are shadows in his eyes and he's pale as a sheet even beside his distant cousins, and they change his name to "Danny Fenton' because nobody should know that their newest child was illustrious orphan Bruce Wayne.

They call him Bruce behind closed doors. Danny prefers it that way, he clings onto the name -- the one his parents gave him -- like a lifeline. He makes friends with Sam and Tucker. Tucker takes one look at the willowy, morbid little boy standing in the corner like a shade, ghosts in his eyes, and drags him out into the sunlight, and takes him over to Sam.

When Danny is twelve, he's still not over it -- and he's a little obsessed with the Fentons' research, with the morbid. He has books upon books on death, murder, detective work. Anything he can get his hands on. And stars. He loves stars.

Alfred owns the apartment next to them and comes over regularly. Danny clings to him.

When Danny is twelve, he's still quiet, meek, a shy little thing prone to being bullied. Freaky little Fenton with the night in his eyes and too-cold skin even before he put one foot in the grave. in a sleepover in his room with Sam and Tucker, he tells them the truth. They're his friends, he trusts them.

"My name is Bruce." he murmurs, voice quiet as the breeze, always quiet. he's staring at his star-covered sheets.

"Like Bruce Wayne?" Tucker asks, a joking tone in his voice.

Danny smiles a little, lamb-like with insecurity. "I am Bruce Wayne." And he takes them down to the lab, disrupting Maddie and Jack, to prove it. Sam tells them of her own wealth then shortly after. They start calling Danny "Bruce" in private too -- its trust. Thats what it is. It's trust.

Sam goes to media functions and comes back with aching feet and complaints on her tongue -- and Danny soaks it up all like a sponge, splayed across a beanbag chair with Tucker in her room. He's not envious of her, he used to go to events with his parents and they kept him safe from the ugly of Gotham's Elite. For the most part. He's had comments made at him, he doesn't miss them.

Alfred returns to the manor semi-regularly, Danny goes with him. he wanders the hallways and helps Alfred clean, the last thing either of them want is for their home to fall into disrepair. He brings Jazz with him next time, then Tucker, then Sam. They all help him clean, and he shows them his room. The one across from his parents', it feels strange.

When Danny dies when he's fourteen, the first adult he tells is Alfred. He and Jazz go over to his house more often than they stay in the Fentonworks building. At least at Alfred's, the food doesn't come to life. Alfred sits at the kitchen table and weeps when Danny tells him, Jazz is upstairs, and its just the two of them.

Danny's ghost form wears pearls around his wrist and the gloves look stained with some kind of black substance. He looks like a child who died in a lab accident, but he also looks like a child who has shadows dripping off his shoulders, curling at his feet, hanging from his eyes.

because amorphous blob batman has my heart always and danny/bruce will not escape it even in death even if that IS the only reason im giving him Mild BatBlob Vibes...so far

when they go to the manor, alfred helps danny make a pile of stones between Martha and Thomas' graves, nobody but the two of them (and sam and tucker) will know what it means. (not even bruce's children later down the line, not for a long, long time)

danny dives into ghost fighting on shaky feet and not half as witty as he once was in one world. he's skittish, skittering between blasts from shadow to shadow and clumsily making his way through each battle. but helping people lights a fire in him. he still has shadows dripping off his feet but there's a purpose in his eyes.

and god help him, he's going to help people.

#dpxdc #dp x dc #danny fenton is not the ghost king #dp x dc crossover #dpxdc crossover #dpdc #dpxdc prompt #this is just me torturing danny for a little bit because im stressed and i cried for an hour while i was driving so im taking it out on B #thanks for being my little stress ball danny #aha my old middle school habit of frankensteining two characters together is resurfacing again :) yall should've seen my wattpad drafts #in middle school. i had 50 of them and most of them were me combining two characters together to make one person and putting them in one au #my most memorable being skydoesminecraft and harry potter. THAT was a fun worldbuilding experience #do i think that growing up with the fentons would fix bruce/danny completely?? hurm. no. dont kid yallselves jazz is not a licensed #therapist not even at like. nine when she meets danny. she's not helping him through his trauma in the slightest. she's nagging.#she's his sister or sister-like figure before she's his therapist. would he be #*entirely* like canon bruce tho?? no. dannybruce is a mix of the both of them. but this is still the first post of the au and is more so #just me doing the equivalent of popping a stress ball so nothing is smoothed over. mostly im just trying to keep bruce's trauma prominent i #danny's character because he IS Bruce. i dont want him to just be 'danny with bruce's backstory but without any of the ugly bits'.#danny and bruce is used interchangeably because they're the same person but sorry if his personality feels imbalanced i came up with this o #the spot. was going to type more but the stress has left me. for now. watch ur back danny 👀

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ghcstao3 · 4 months

Note

Civilian Soap x Ghost

Ghost is in the Scottish Highlands for something, everyone else only knowing him as a visitor. He bumps into Soap a few times and is invited to stay for a round of drinks whenever he wants a break.

Something goes wrong and there is no safe house, so Ghost has to ask Soap if he can stay.

Ghost promptly gets a family meal to welcome him. He ends up being well clothed, shelted and fed as he slots perfectly into their dynamic. Rather close to Soap as the night goes on.

By the end of the stay Ghost is freely cuddling Soap on the couch like a happy cat and might as well be purring.

Ghost doesn’t exactly remember when or how he met John MacTavish, but in this moment, he’s never been more grateful.

Stranded in Middle-of-Nowhere, Scotland, with his only option for a safe house being barely less than 200km away when a low-stakes operation had somehow gone to shit, Ghost is sitting in a decrepit phone booth, praying for John to pick up his phone.

There’s finally a click on the other end of the line, as painfully early in the morning as it is, followed by a sleepy, “H’llo?”

“Johnny,” Ghost murmurs. His initial checks had told him he hadn’t been followed, but just in case. “It’s Simon.”

John seems to brighten up at this. “Simon! To what do I owe the pleasure?”

“I—“ Ghost grimaces beneath his mask. “I need a place to stay. But I can’t… tell you why.”

“‘S no biggie,” John says, then yawns. “Can you tell me where you are? I assume you need a ride.”

Ghost rattles off what he thinks is the location after squinting at some yellowing and torn flyers pasted on the sides of the booth, and for a long moment is met with silence.

He begins to worry the line’s gone dead when John exclaims, “Oh! That’s closer to my parents’ than my flat. I was actually goin’ up for a visit soon but I’m sure we can rearrange some things. I can be there in… say two hours?”

“Sure, yeah,” Ghost agrees before be can give it any more forethought. Because, yes it’s a place to stay—but with John’s parents?

He can almost hear John’s smile through the line. “Perfect. See you soon, Si.”

John hangs up, and Ghost puts the phone back on the hook with a sigh. Now, he waits.

And definitely doesn’t worry about meeting John’s parents more than he should. He’s friends with John—why should it matter? It’s not weird.

It’s not.

Ghost slumps against the side of the phone booth and lets his eyelids fall shut.

* * *

It had taken maybe two and half hours for John to arrive, but the drive to his parents’ is only forty or so minutes. John happily chats Ghost’s ear off the entire way, catching him up from the last time they’d talked, skillfully avoiding any mention of the situation Ghost is in.

John does his best to reassure Ghost over and over that he had talked to his parents, they’re fine with him staying however long he needs to until something more official comes along, and it helps a little.

Ghost still feels guilty for intruding.

But true to his word, John’s parents greet him with friendly smiles and welcoming words, ushering Ghost into their home with the familiarity of old friends—or perhaps even family.

The guilt does wear down little by little, as pleasant conversation is made, and, just as John had, no questions are asked about Ghost’s circumstances. Ghost wonders if that’s John’s doing, or if John had fed them some story just to avoid it. Either way, Ghost appreciates it.

He’d rather not think of his next steps for just a little while, as Price is surely piecing some of it together for him.

Ghost is made dinner later in the evening, and all three MacTavishes present insist there’s no issue in Ghost occupying John’s room for the night (he’d already promised to leave the next day, even if that means he winds up in a hotel instead).

He takes the couch anyway. He ignores the look John’s parents share when Ghost says, “It’s Johnny’s room, and I’m only here for one night,” ignores the blush that spans from John’s ears down his neck when they mouth ‘Johnny?’ in his direction.

And now, Ghost stands in the emptied out living room, just taking a moment to breathe. Because while he’s eternally grateful for the hospitality, he’s just a little worn out.

“You’re allowed to sit, you know.”

Attention pulled away from his thoughts, Ghost glances to John, who’s smiling crookedly as he holds an armful of pillows and a thick blanket. He dumps them on the sofa, plops himself down, and pats the seat beside him.

Ghost sits, and as he sinks into the cushions, realizes just how exhausted he is.

“You don’t have to tell me,” John is saying, “I mean, I know you can’t—but is this… was it a work thing that brought you here?”

Ghost hums an affirmative. His body is taking over before his mind can think twice, leaning over enough to rest his head on John’s shoulder. Tired, is all he can think. John laughs.

“There, there,” he teases. “Big scary military man’s a little sleepy, is he?”

Ghost swats at John with a mumbled shut up.

Civilian or not—there’s always been something different about him. With him.

John snorts. “Well, c’mere, then. Don’t be shy.”

Ghost complies easily, tucking further into John’s side like it’s second nature. Like it’s been months since he’s last seen the man.

Friends, is how Ghost has thus far labelled them. How Price would laugh his ass off hearing that.

At some point John begins to card his fingers through Ghost’s hair—he’s never worn the mask around him, never felt the need to—and between that moment and the next, Ghost is fast asleep, curled up with John like something a little more than just friends.

Fleetingly, Ghost thinks, just moments before his brain shuts off—I should visit him more.

#ask #simon ghost riley #john soap mactavish #soapghost #ghostsoap #ghost x soap #ghoap #writing

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sundrop-writes · 4 months

Text

Lessons For A Genius - Lesson One

Sub!Spencer Reid x Dom!Fem!Reader

Lesson One: Slick Silicone

(aka the one with the pocket pussy)

Summary:

What could a certified genius possibly have to learn from someone like you? Turns out - a hell of a lot.

And the real ‘teaching’ started when your graphic explanations of slang toward Spencer for the sheer shock value of it turned into something a lot more… hands on.

Sub!Spencer Reid x (BAU)Dom!Fem!Reader. Co-Workers to Friends with Benefits. Smut. Set during early Season 2.

Word Count: 17,200

Criminal Minds Masterlist | AO3 Link

THIS IS A RE-POST. This is a fic from my old blog (a blog that was shadowbanned, forcing me to move). This fic is not stolen, it is completely mine, and I am just re-posting it to help people find my new blog, and to make my masterlist complete when I post new fics for this fandom.

Detailed warnings and author’s notes below the cut.

Warnings: A lot of general stuff pertaining to an average Criminal Minds episode - mentions of death, mentions of murder/killing, mentions of possible trauma from being in the BAU, somewhat graphic descriptions of a dismembered corpse; this is not a casefic but there is a small section where Reid, Morgan, and the reader are at a crime scene and details of a case are mentioned (not a case in the canon, one that I made up); the reader sticks her hand inside of a corpse to get something out of it for the purpose of discovering evidence; making inappropriate jokes about dead bodies - the reader character uses dark humour to cope with the trauma of the BAU job; Spencer doesn’t understand sexual slang and the reader has to explain it to him (warning for slightly awkward moments because of this?); the reader calls Spencer ‘honey’ (could be considered condescending); use of Y/N and L/N (meaning Your Last Name); Reid struggling with his sexuality/Reid has some internal biphobia; mentions of anal sex/anal stimulation but it does not take place during the fic; passing mentions of Reid being bullied in school; mentions of past Spencer x Lila Archer (in this fic, she blew him while he was working that case but they didn’t keep contact when he left LA); mentions of the reader going to a sex shop; mentions of the reader dressing feminine/wearing lingerie; mention of Spencer being taller than the reader - but I think he would be taller than most people.

This is primarily a smut fic; there is sub/dom dynamics - Reid is submissive and much more inexperienced (he is 'learning’ about sex from the reader character, but he is not completely a virgin, he has had one singular sexual experience before); the reader is dominant and much more experienced sexually; the reader has a vagina and uses she/her pronouns; mentions of Reid being 'innocent’ (it’s more so that sex is an under-researched area of his life and he is too shy to explore it by himself); undertones of corruption kink; use of a sex toy - the reader gifts Spencer a fleshlight/pocket pussy and they use it together; hand kink - the reader admires Spencer’s hands; undertones of corruption kink - the reader is enjoying 'corrupting’ Spencer and showing him these things for the first time; BDSM/kink negotiations, possibly under-negotiated kink; the reader teaches Spencer BDSM terms.

Everything in this fic is fully consensual and safe for the characters; Spencer calls the reader 'Miss’; mentions of Spencer cumming inside the reader (does not actually happen during the fic); passing mentions of Spencer being insecure (about his sexual skills and his looks); Spencer is very obedient; the reader calls Spencer: 'good boy’, 'baby’, 'pretty boy’, 'dumb baby’; most of this fic is Spencer being fucked with a fleshlight while it’s controlled by the reader; heavy praise kink (from the reader toward Spencer); light bondage - Spencer’s hands are bound behind his back; edging - orgasm delay/orgasm denial (from the reader toward Spencer); the reader makes Spencer ask permission to cum; some size kink - big dick Spencer is too big to fully fit inside of a fleshlight; Spencer does a lot of begging in this; slight crying kink - the reader thinks Spencer looks pretty when he cries from being overwhelmed/edged a lot; degradation kink, dumbification kink, reader is condescending towards Spencer; some overstimulation toward the end; slight cum kink - Spencer cums all over himself and the reader enjoys it. I believe that’s it. There is descriptions of aftercare!

A/N: fair warning - a lot of this fic is build up/sexual tension (my speciality). and there is a long section before the smut where the reader is teaching Spencer BDSM terms and teaching him how to pick a safeword, but I think it’s interesting and I enjoyed writing it. and it’s worth the pay-off imo.

...

Being an FBI Profiler meant there were some rather… strange parts to your day.

Things that were once in a lifetime tragedies for other people that had become intensely casual routines for you. Things like - looking at gruesome crime scene photos, seeing a dead body in person, facing down a killer.

You liked to thank your nihilism and dark sense of humor for keeping you sane, working a job that would have driven others insane in such a short amount of time. You also liked to distance yourself from the darkness of it, and preferred to think of the people you helped, rather than the people you couldn’t.

Especially during moments like this, when you were exiting the car at yet another crime scene. It was a dump sight for the body of another young woman, adding to the trail of victims this newest killer was challenging the BAU with.

“Just like all the others… the limbs and jaw are missing. Eyes gouged out. This guy has one hell of a compulsion.” Morgan commented, looking down at the body… or rather, the torso, with intense disdain.

“I would say it’s less of a compulsion, and more of a fractured sense of reality.” Reid commented. “It’s likely that the UnSub sees these corpses as pieces of art. It’s why he was frustrated when the first four weren’t found soon enough, that they weren’t discovered when they were… ‘fresh’, so to speak. That’s why he started leaving the clues for law enforcement. He wants his ‘art’ to be seen in a timely manner.”

“Couldn’t the guy just take up painting or something?” You replied, looking at the body, still slightly shocked by how brutal the whole thing was.

“Looks like we got another one.” Morgan pointed out, crouching down beside the body, motioning toward a large gash between the victim’s ribs. “Another clue, that is.”

For the last three victims, the UnSub had cut a hole into their torso and left some kind of object inside. Something small that hinted at where the next victim would be found.

Morgan looked over his shoulder at you, as though waiting for you to make a move. When you turned to Reid, he was looking over the rim of his coffee cup at you with very expectant eyes, the thick lenses of his glasses making his stare all the more imposing.

You quickly realized that both of the men wanted you to stick your hand inside the corpse and pull out whatever was inside.

“What?” You chuckled. “You want me to do it? Is it just cause you think I’m the gross one?”

Your reputation for having a strong stomach preceded you.

You were shy or squeamish about anything, socially or functionally, and the team often took advantage of this. They would throw you into an interrogation with a suspect who made crude comments and you would end up grossing the man out with even more graphic words. They would have you sifting through a suspect’s trash looking for receipts or pieces of evidence and sometimes you would laugh at the things you found, rather than gagging at the smell.

It was rare that anyone on the team saw you flinch.

“The body’s been sittin’ out here in the sun for three hours.” Morgan said, glancing from the corpse up to the bright sky overhead. “I’m not doin’ it.”

You chanced another look at Reid. The small smirk he wore told you that he wouldn’t have to give some lame excuse about how he was squeamish and had just eaten in order for you to truly give in.

“Ugh, fine.” You said.

You naturally met Reid’s hand when he came out of his pocket with a blue latex glove for you to wear. You put it on, switching places with Morgan so you could kneel down beside the body. You put your ungloved hand on the ground to support yourself, and then inserted your fingers into the cavity - the hole between the ribs that the UnSub had made.

Luckily, you didn’t have to reach too far inside before you felt something. Though, because of the slight decomposition of the body and the bloat from the sun beating down, you did have some trouble getting a good grip on the item to pull it out.

Naturally, your discomfort with the situation caused your dark sense of humor to act up. You needed the comfort and you barely thought about the odd joke before it left your lips.

“God, it’s like a fucking fleshlight in here,” You groaned, disgusted laced through your voice as you finally hooked your fingers around the object and managed to pull it out of the wound.

Morgan chuckled at the joke and held out an evidence bag for you (which he had gotten from one of the uniformed officers on the scene). Before any of you could truly analyze the item that you had just pulled out of the body cavity, a voice trampled over your thoughts as you dropped the item into the plastic bag.

“Don’t you mean flashlight?” Reid piped up, so eager to correct you, as always. “Also, how is that comparable?”

You looked up at Reid with awe.

For a moment, you wondered if he was fucking with you.

But the look of genuine confusion plastered across his features - something so rare for the certified genius. That look made you realize that he genuinely didn’t know what a fleshlight was. He had no idea what you were talking about.

Your insides tingled with glee at this realization.

Morgan sighed when he saw the look that you and Reid exchanged. You, wearing filthy, smug dawning and Reid painted entirely with cluelessness. He hated where the exchange was going, knowing how shameless you always were in conversation. He quickly tried to distract from the interaction.

“So, this looks like a horseshoe-” Morgan said, motionting to the object in the evidence bag.

“No, I meant fleshlight.” You said, quickly trampling over Morgan’s words. “F-L-E-S-H-L-I-G-H-T. Fleshlight. Do you not know what that means?”

This caused Morgan to sigh sharply and shake his head.

You took off the glove with a snap and tossed it away, happy to be rid of the smell.

You stood back to your full height, entirely intrigued by Reid’s continued confusion.

“It could represent luck. Maybe a casino?” Morgan tried in vain to distract the two of you from the conversation once again.

Maybe he was trying to preserve Reid’s naive innocence, something you were determined to dismantle piece by piece because it gave you intense joy to see the shock cross his features whenever you explained outrageous concepts to him. The time you had explained to him what a ‘blumpkin’ was, you hadn’t stopped laughing for hours when he could hardly believe you.

“The nearest casino is 45.6 miles away, it’s far outside the UnSub’s geographical comfort zone.” Reid said, quickly dismissing Morgan’s thread of conversation before he turned back to you. “And no, I have no idea what you’re talking about. Is it a coroner’s term?”

You let out a harsh snort at this. You had gotten a degree in mortuary science before you became a Profiler (likely something to thank for your strong stomach). But it was your other area of ‘study’ that made you an expert in this.

“No, honey, it’s not.” You quickly answered.

There was a slight flash through his features when you called him ‘honey’. You weren’t sure if it was shock or displeasure, but either way he quickly straightened his face and went back to intrigue. He stared at you with his full attention, ready for you to explain it to him. He was ready to learn and catalog the information in that big brain of his.

It was something you found entirely endearing.

“L/N, please, don’t-” Morgan begged you not to explain it any further, once again wanting to keep Reid in the dark.

Mostly, he wanted to save himself from the embarrassment of witnessing the interaction between the two of you.

“What?” You chuckled sharply, turning to Morgan. “There are some things the genius still needs to learn, apparently.”

Reid rolled his eyes at this. He didn’t want to admit that it was true.

“The other night I had to explain to him what the distinct difference between a Butt Dial and a Booty Call is,” You continued, giving an example to prove your point. “Because he walked into the bullpen and loudly announced to JJ and Elle that he was sorry that he booty called me at 3am and woke me up.”

Morgan choked on his laughter when you explained this.

“Dude, seriously?” He posed, raising a brow at Reid.

“I fell asleep with my phone in my back pocket when I was reading Voltaire.” Reid explained, a heavy blush falling over his cheeks. “I thought - I thought -”

“Okay, playboy, I’m gonna go call Hotch about this,” Morgan announced, motioning toward the evidence bag. “And I’m gonna pretend not to hear anything that’s happening over here.”

Morgan walked off to the car, and Reid turned to you with a defeated look cast over his features.

“I do appreciate when you explain these kinds of things to me.” He told you softly. “It… it saves me from future embarrassment.”

As much as you enjoyed the shock factor of watching Spencer’s innocence melt away when you explained such crude things so abruptly - that was also part of your motivation. You knew that as much as he was a genius - had stunning intellect on paper, could recite statistics by heart - he didn’t have the kind of social skills or social knowledge that you did.

“Do you really wanna know what I was talking about before?” You posed, giving him one last chance to preserve that innocence.

He nodded, ever thirsty to chase an unanswered question.

You held back a giggle.

“A fleshlight is also called a pocket pussy.” You told him, launching into a quick, efficient explanation for his confusion so that he could have his question answered.

“What?” He gaped, having the most beautifully dumb look on his face as the words left his lips.

“It’s a sex toy.” You told him.

His face scrunched even further into bewilderment, and you knew that now he was simply jumping through mental hoops, wondering what kind of sex toy a ‘pocket pussy’ could be. So you decided to make your explanation a bit more detailed.

“It’s a…” You thought for a moment about how to explain it to someone who had never seen one before. “A kind of tube? Usually in the shape of a large flashlight, and on the inside there’s a silicone vagina, or sometimes a silicone anus, and it’s meant to simulate intercourse the same way that a dildo can simulate intercourse by going into a vagina. Or an anus, of course. You do know what a dildo is, right?”

Reid quickly nodded his head - that bright flush even fresher on his cheeks as a deep thoughtfulness came over his features.

“Yeah. Y-yeah. I got it.” He quickly stuttered out, assuring you that he now fully understood.

“Cool.” You said, walking by him and thumping him on the shoulder for reassurance that the conversation was over.

“Wait, is that the hand that you - inside? You haven’t washed your hands yet!”

“I wore a glove, Reid!”

…

Turns out the horseshoe had a unique stamping on it from a closed down metalworks business. Four thousand square feet of abandoned building, perfect for the UnSub to make his ‘art’ inside. He had intended for the clue to lead the team to a barn where he had staged the next corpse, but you broke into the building and caught him in the act of drugging another woman before she was killed.

The state of the building was horrifying - the limbs of the other victims strewn about, a lot of them put on display like trophies.

Overall, you would call it a good day. There was a life saved.

On the way back home, Spencer could barely make eye contact with you while on the jet. His eyes constantly flickered away from you with purpose whenever you looked near him. The two of you played Gin Rummy and you had to remind Reid to take his turn several times. There was even one point where he won a hand and you had to tell him so - he claimed that he had ‘forgotten the rules’. As if.

You couldn’t figure out why he was acting so strangely. You wanted to chalk it up to the harshness of the case, the graphic nature of things - but you both had seen much worse. The ‘fleshlight’ conversation was so minimal on your radar, such a shameless moment for you. It was something you considered so entirely regular as an interaction on the rollercoaster of all things bizarre that was Spencer Reid. You were barely even thinking about it.

You had no clue that it was racing through his mind at top speed as he remembered your words from earlier that day.

…

Spencer couldn’t stop thinking about it.

He wasn’t sure why it had never occurred to him before. Sure, there were plenty of things he didn’t know, like you said. Plenty of things he was curious about, but far too shy to look up. Plenty of things he didn’t want to get caught looking up out of fear of embarrassment.

He knew some things about sex toys. He knew far more about the history of sex toys than he did about modern sex toys. He could tell you that Cleopatra had owned one of the first rudimentary vibrators, made from the shell of a hollowed out gourd filled with bees. But if he walked into a sex shop today, he probably wouldn’t know what half the stuff was or what it was used for.

When he thought about what you had told him, it only made sense.

Of course there would be some kind of solution, some kind of ‘opposite’ to a silicone penis used to simulate sex inside a vagina.

(“Or an anus, of course.”)

Those words flying out of your mouth so casually had sent Reid’s imagination flying into an array of interesting directions. Of course he knew that plenty of men liked to partake in anal stimulation for pleasure. There were no particular statistics about this that came to mind, because it was never something he had directly read a study about.

It was something Reid had always been curious about, because he did know that prostate stimulation was often considered to be the height of pleasure for men.

(Spencer’s attraction to men was a can of worms that he would leave untouched and attend to another day. The innate warmth that he felt when he looked at Morgan was something he always felt the need to suppress. Even though it was quite literally impossible for him, he was still trying to forget the involuntary reaction he had when he looked at a gay porn magazine that his classmates had left in his locker as a joke when he was thirteen.)

For the most part, his mind was hyper-fixating on your explanation of that object he had never even heard of before. The antithesis of a dildo, the supposed inversion of the male genitalia in a more portable form.

A pocket pussy.

You talked about it so casually, explained it so perfectly. You spoke about it in such a way that it left Reid’s mind whirring, wondering what such an object could specifically look like. Of course, he knew what a vagina looked like. In theory.

Yes, he was a virgin.

He actually wondered if he fit that definition exactly. He knew that most people considered virginity to be a milestone passed once they had participated in full blown intercourse for the first time. But he wondered if what he had done would ‘count’ as losing his virginity. It was something he would have asked you, would have wanted your social colloquial opinion on - if he wasn’t so embarrassed about being a virgin in the first place. (Or maybe being a virgin, he still wasn’t too sure.)

He had been touched by a woman before, but only once.

After he and Lila Archer had climbed out of the pool, before the team had arrived, she had kissed him on the mouth again and continued to thank him for his ‘bravery’ and ongoing protection in a very interesting way. And before he could truly process it or stop her (due to the intense unprofessionalism) - his pants were down and her mouth was on him. Because of his inexperience, it had lasted a whopping three minutes. (According to Spencer’s impeccable memory and the fact that he had been glancing between the top of her head and a clock on the wall, worried they would get caught, he knew for a fact that it had been three minutes and fourteen seconds to be exact.)

Which, at the time, was lucky. Because as she licked off her lips and looked up at him through her lashes, Morgan called out his name through the house, finally looking for them. He had rushed to straighten his clothes and look normal - but because Morgan caught them both looking incredibly guilty, he had hounded Reid for days about the ‘details’. Reid gave him none.

But that had been his only experience with a woman sexually. His only experience with anybody, for that matter. So any of his knowledge about vaginas was based entirely on pictures; scientific diagrams, and renaissance art. He was never gutsy enough to buy porn for himself.

He tried to imagine what a silicone vagina would look like - how one would fit molded into a plastic tube. He tried to imagine how it would feel to stick his penis into one.

Of course, he had plenty of experience with masturbation.

His instincts had taken over at the right age for that. Even though his brain was always advanced well beyond his years, puberty kicked in just the same. He had been a hormonal teenager just like everyone else. (Of course, he was the only one going to CalTech getting a PhD in chemistry, but he was right on track in terms of his physical development.)

And naturally, his imagination often ran away with him whenever he had the time alone to masturbate now that he was an adult.

One of the things he thought about most often when he masturbated was you.

The fact that you were so self-assured, so confident, the fact that nothing could shake you. It always made Spencer imagine you pinning him down, taking control of him, kissing him hard. He had orgasmed in his hand a great many nights, imagining you on top of him - imagining what you might feel like around him, on top of him, riding him.

He found it intensely difficult to pay attention to Gin Rummy when all of these thoughts were running through his mind.

…

You barely remembered the fleshlight conversation at all. Barely remembered it, that is, until you were on your way to work the next morning.

There was a small fender bender between two cars on your normal route and the traffic build-up around it caused you to deviate. Because of that, you just happened to drive by your favorite sex shop. The sign caught your eye, and you figured: you were already late. There was a great coffee place across the street. You could grab yourself a latte if you parked.

You were surprised that a sex shop would be open so early in the morning, but you were glad that you made the stop. Usually, you would have taken your time to browse. You liked to see what was new, especially in terms of costumes and lingerie.

You didn’t have a long term partner to impress, but sometimes you did like to strut around the house in lingerie (in your fleeting free time away from the BAU) just to make yourself feel good. That, and it was always fun to see the look on a date’s face when you gave the sensual promise of ‘slipping into something more comfortable’ and then came back in a latex nurse’s outfit and six inch red heels.

Unfortunately, today you were low on time and very set on what you wanted.

You went straight to the wall of toys and zoned in on the selection of fleshlights. You picked out the most ‘basic’ one you could find. You didn’t want to assume Spencer’s preferences, but you picked one that resembled a pussy rather than an ass.

It was on the expensive side, but you knew the look on Spencer’s face when you gave it to him would more than pay it off in your mind. That and imagining him using it, knowing that it would be far too tempting of a gift. He would never be brave enough to buy something like this for himself and once it was in his hands when he was alone, he would be far too curious not to use it - yeah, it was definitely worth it.

You walked past a rack of lube on your way to the cash register and realized that it would be rude to give this kind of gift without a bottle of lube in accompaniment. So you bought a bottle of your favorite water based lubricant. An unscented one, knowing that Spencer was a no-frills kind of guy, even though you usually bought a strawberry scented one for yourself.

You got the items put in a discreet, labelless black bag and then got yourself a latte. And you couldn’t help but to grab an almond croissant for Spencer because when you spotted it in the pantry case, you did think of him.

Of course, when you walked into the office (the black bag safely in the backseat of your car) Hotch just happened to be walking by with a handful of files on the way to his office.

“You’re late.” He commented, not looking up from the paper he was reading.

“Traffic was hell.” You fired back.

“Yeah, and I’m sure that latte just magically transported into your hand.” He said, his tone blank and unreadable as usual. “I want all your reports about the case on my desk by tonight.”

Usually, there was a grace period of two or three days to get the reports about a case done. But clearly, Hotch didn’t like your tardiness. You considered it worth it.

“Yes sir.” You mumbled under your breath.

He didn’t say anything else after that, simply retreated off to his office.

You figured he couldn’t be that mad. He knew the job could be an emotional strain, and it was okay to deviate from such a hard routine every now and then. Especially because now you were going to be spending the next five hours writing out all the gory details of how you had pulled a horseshoe out of a woman’s dead torso in order to catch a killer.

You walked over to your desk, which was right in front of Reid’s, and placed down the paper bag with the croissant on top of one of his files. This easily distracted him from whatever he had been writing - most likely one of his reports about the case.

“Almond croissant,” You said, placing down your coffee cup and placing your purse underneath your desk. “Your favorite, right?”

“It is.” He grinned at you. “Thank you.”

It was that sweet little smile, those big kind eyes staring up at you through the lenses of his glasses like you hung the stars in the sky - it was that bit of sweetness that got you through writing your reports. So yeah, it probably wasn’t just dark humor and nihilism that helped you keep your sanity. It had a lot to do with the pretty boy you got to sit across from every single day.

You worked on your reports. And yeah, you took too many coffee breaks, including a long lunch break with Elle, Penelope, and JJ where they insisted on discussing your ‘crush’ on Spencer.

You denied it.

Elle profiled your lie (which you insisted was not a lie) and JJ laughed about it. Penelope started humming wedding music under her breath and you threatened to spit in her salad.

By the time you actually got the reports done, it was late. Everyone else had gone home - except for Spencer, who was still sitting at his desk across from you with his lamp on and an air of quiet concentration. When you got finished with the last report, you slammed the file closed and let out a sigh, leaning back in your chair and running your hands harshly over your face.

“Finally done?” Spencer’s delicate voice inquired, peeking up over the median between the desks to look at you.

“Yes, finally.” You grinned back at him. “You done too?”

You couldn’t help but to ask. Spencer was always incredibly quick with his reports, simply by the nature of the speed at which he could read and compose writing. You wondered what exactly he had been doing at his desk for the past few hours. Perhaps he had been looking through old case files, possibly unsolved ones, thinking up new leads while there was no pressure looming over his brilliant mind.

“I finished up at three o’clock.” He said.

You glanced at your watch - it was getting close to nine. That made you entirely curious about what he had been doing, sitting at his desk for that many hours. What had he felt the need to stay so late for?

“So what has been keeping you busy this late into the night, Doctor?” You asked.

“I was reading.” He told you honestly, motioning toward a thick novel that he had in his hands.

“How many books do you have over there?” You chuckled.

Again, you knew that because of the intense speed he was capable of reading at, it would take a lot of books to keep him busy.

“Just one.” He answered, easily catching your eye and maintaining eye contact.

Both of you knew what this meant.

For a while, he had been rereading through old case files. But, not wanting to haunt himself with those gory details, he had chosen instead to simply sit at his desk and reread the same book over and over again because he had wanted to keep you company.

What you didn’t know was that his mind had still been heavily plagued by thoughts of your sex toy discussion from the other day, so he wasn’t exactly reading at lightning speed as per usual. Instead - letting his imagination wander, thinking about where he would get a silicone vagina if he wanted to buy one and if a toy would feel as good as yours. What yours would feel like around his penis if he ever got the minuscule chance to actually experience it.

“The Hollow Men by T. S. Eliot - but um, I was waiting for you, actually.” Spencer announced, making his intentions entirely clear, just in case you hadn’t already figured it out. “I was hoping maybe we could get dinner together? We haven’t - we haven’t hung out in a while.”

He seemed nervous asking you this, even though you were always enthusiastic in welcoming his invitations to spend time together outside of work.

Last month, he had brought you to a conservatory housing and actively breeding endangered species of butterflies in order to save the populations from extinction. It was a building full of plant life, an indoor jungle filled with the beautiful insects that took your breath away. Listening to him ramble on about the different species and their latin names, the patterns on their wings and their purpose of camouflage - it had been one of the most pleasant, most romantic non-dates of your life.

You didn’t understand why others on the team acted like his presence, especially his ramblings, could be a bother.

“Sounds good.” You told him with a smile.

He smiled back at you fondly.

“I have to drop these on Hotch’s desk and then we can go.” You explained as you stood up and began gathering your files. “But uh, I don’t really feel like going out? I’m way more in the mood for take-out and a comfy couch.”

“There’s a good Chinese place a few minutes away from my apartment.” He told you. “If you consider my couch comfortable?”

You resisted the urge to tell him that you loved his apartment because the smell of books penetrated every inch of it; the scent of yellowing, worn paper living there like the comfort of a library. But you held that back - choosing instead to say something else.

“The comfiest,” You grinned at him as you walked by with the armful of files.

…

You weren’t entirely sure when you were going to give the ‘gifts’ to Spencer.

A large part of you thought that it would be best to have an out, in case he got embarrassed, or hated it. Most likely, you would wait until after dinner and hand him the bag on your way out without telling him what it was. Which was why you shoved the black plastic bag holding the lube and the sex toy into your oversized purse while Spencer was distracted with carrying the takeout bag toward his apartment.

One thing that had not surprised you about Spencer when you found it out: he didn’t have basic cable. Part of you was surprised that someone who was so pro-book and anti-technology even had a TV at all. But apparently he had some favorites that he couldn’t stand to miss out on, like Doctor Who and Star Wars. So he had a DVD player hooked up to a very small TV that was banished off to a corner of his living room. A device that was dwarfed by bookcases, which did make a lot of sense.

He said that he spent so much time reading and away at work, traveling for cases that it just didn’t make sense to pay for cable. He said that he could get his mental enrichment from reading, and his nerdy pleasure from rewatching his old favorites, and apparently he got the news from listening to the radio. The radio. Sometimes you wondered if he was Benjamin Button - an old man who had somehow gotten into the body of a twenty five year old. It truly mystified you.

Either way, it meant that you spent dinner with season three of Friends on as background noise. Friends being a box set of DVDs that you had gifted him because you considered it to be classic television that he needed to see. The first time he had asked Morgan to his face if a girl had ‘friendzoned’ him with full confidence in what the term meant, you knew that Spencer had been watching it in his free time.

You easily fell into the comfort of your surroundings, enjoying the comforting canned laughter of the show, paired with the delightfully greasy food and Spencer’s ongoing commentary - both about the show, and about other, completely unrelated things. You were so relaxed that you had almost completely forgotten about the gift you had waiting in your bag for him.

It was such a strange coincidence that he had been the one to bring it up.

He offered to take your plate into the kitchen, leaving behind a waft of soy sauce as he went. You were wonderfully full and reached to the small side table where you were nursing a half empty (now warm) diet coke. You took a few sips from it, and heard Spencer’s footsteps shuffling back into the room. He hovered behind you as you watched Monica rush out of her bedroom with her phone pressed to her chest, concerned about calling Richard.

You were so focused on the show that you almost didn’t hear Spencer’s shy, tentative voice when he spoke.

“I’m sorry about the other day.” He said quietly.

“Hmm?” You looked over your shoulder at him, wondering what he meant.

He was rather nervously fidgeting with his hands, standing in the white glow of the TV in the dimly lit room - the only other source of light being a small lamp on the side table and dimness of the light above the stove shining in from the kitchen at his back.

You grabbed up the remote and paused the show, silencing the characters and their temporary problems in order to address the stress that Spencer was very clearly feeling - his whole body tight, hunched over, his face quite tight with worry.

“I’m sorry about the other day.” He repeated himself, slightly louder this time - perhaps not more confident, but simply not drowned out by any further noise.

You didn’t want to butt in, and gave him the room to explain himself slowly.

“I - I didn’t mean to put you in such an… uncomfortable position. If I don’t understand the things you say, I should just pull you aside and ask you privately what you meant.” He sighed. “I - I know that I need to learn to keep my mouth shut sometimes. It’s something I’m working on.”

You became flooded with peril at this. Had he really thought that he had inconvenienced you? Put you in an ‘uncomfortable’ position?

“Come sit down.” You told him, beginning to feel annoyed with craning your neck back to get a proper look at him.

Like a dog being beckoned, he couldn’t help but to follow your order.

He sunk down against the other arm of the three seater couch, leaving quite a bit of space between the two of you. He had his arms folded - closed off, clearly nervous. His eyes were focused on the leg of his pants, distinctly refusing to look at you. Perhaps he was afraid he would find disgust or disappointment among your features. You turned off the TV completely then and angled your body to face him before you continued speaking.

“First of all, you don’t need to learn to keep your mouth shut.” You told him easily. “I’m not sure who, or what gave you that impression, but it’s not true. Whenever you open your mouth, something brilliant comes out, and we’re all better for it.”

Reid’s lips flexed into a smile at the intense direct praise, and this made you happy.

“Second, you didn’t make me uncomfortable the other day.” You told him honestly. “I meant what I said - despite you being a genius, there are still some things you need to learn. And I’m more than happy to teach you.”

These words sent a shiver down Spencer’s spine.

There were so many things that he would beg for you to teach him if given the chance. But he didn’t want to embarrass himself. And most importantly, he didn’t want to come off as creepy or desperate toward someone as perfect as you.

When he dared to glance up at you, you were boldly staring him down. You wore a small smirk across your face. Heat began to stir in Spencer’s gut, and he couldn’t help but to wonder if you were thinking the exact same things that he was.

You couldn’t be. You couldn’t possibly want someone like him. You couldn’t possibly want a nervous, inexperienced ‘virgin’ like him.

Oh, but you did.

You were thinking all of the same things that he was. You were imagining giving him the most intricate ‘hands on’ lessons for everything he had ever been curious about. Giving him the most close-up, detailed tour of the female anatomy he ever could have asked for.

“Spencer,” You called out his name gently.

This forced his attention up from fiddling with a loose thread on the edge of the couch cushion - clearly something out of nervousness - and got him to look at your face. You wondered how someone who was six feet tall could look so delicately small, purposefully slumped over in his seat like that. You wondered what his pretty features would look like warped by an orgasm.

“What are you thinking about right now?” You asked him. You had to know if he was truly on the same filthy wavelength as you.

He knew he had to make up a lie. Because he wouldn’t be brave enough to speak the words out loud. He was too shy to actually tell you that he was wondering what it would be like to bury his face between your breasts, that he wanted to drown there.

“You… you did get me curious.” Spencer admitted quietly. “About the… the - uh-”

He trailed off, clearly too nervous to say the word for himself now that he knew the filthy implications behind it.

“About the fleshlight?” You finished the sentence for him, wanting to encourage him.

You wanted to make him feel brave about the topic. You were too curious about where this interaction was heading - you couldn’t bear to have him get shy on you now.

“Yeah.” He nodded, nervously clearing his throat.

He went back to fidgeting with the edge of the couch cushion, once again purposefully looking anywhere but at your face. You stared him down with purpose, all too intrigued by whatever might come out of his mouth next. Especially with the tense, thoughtful expression dipped along his eyebrows - the same one he got when he was reading or staring at maps.

“I was thinking - I was curious - curious about - about where someone might get one of those.” He finally announced.

He put intense stress on the word ‘where’ - his voice low, almost a lulling whisper in the already quiet apartment. He was speaking as though he was asking you about something incredibly illicit. Like a college kid asking where he could buy weed or a lonely man in his thirties inquiring about a prostitute. Though sex toys were perfectly legal, you guessed that for someone like Spencer, this was just as trepidacious.

You felt a sense of eager giddiness stir within you. You resisted the urge to bounce on the spot like an excitable, hyper kid on their birthday waiting to open their present. Even though he wasn’t looking at your face, you forced yourself to hold back a grin.

You didn’t want to ruin the surprise, after all. It was just too perfect.

“Well… lucky for you, Doctor Reid,” You told him, easily capturing his attention with the use of his proper title and the fact that you shifted slightly in your seat, reaching down by your feet to grab your bag. “I happen to have a spare one right here.”

Spencer watched you cautiously, his neck still sloped with anxious shyness. He almost had to believe that this was a prank, and you would pull a tape recorder out of your bag and laugh because you had captured his perversion for everyone to know about.

But of course - you weren’t that cruel. You were honest, and you were definitely not half as shy as he was. In fact, he would go so far as to say that you didn’t have a bashful bone in your body.

So of course, it made sense that it was not a big deal for you to walk into one of those stores and simply purchase that kind of toy.

Spencer watched eagerly as you pulled out a cardboard box. He heard the rustle of plastic inside your bag and guessed that it was a shopping bag. But he couldn’t be too focused on that once your arm extended out to him, showing him what the rectangular box was.

Spencer had never seen a sex toy in person before, but he quickly realized that they were packaged similarly to any other product. A clean, white background with a picture of the product on it, several claims and promises (‘new and improved design!’) (‘easy to clean!’) (‘soft and durable!’) - and a picture of someone smiling on the front, unconsciously promising a good user experience. In this case, it was a stereotypically beautiful woman in lingerie holding the… item, as though it were comparable… to her… to her parts.

“Open it.” You encouraged him, wagging the box in his direction. “Unless you don’t want it. I could return it.”

It was then that Spencer realized he had been sitting with his hands numbly in his lap for several silent moments, staring at the box in your extended hand.

“Oh!” He said quietly. “No! I mean - yes. I - um.” Rather than trying to articulate it, he reached out and grabbed the item, finding it surprisingly heavy. It easily compared to the weight of a good book in his hands. “Thank you.”

You would be lying if you said that watching him inspect the sex toy as though it were an object from an alien planet wasn’t the hottest thing you had seen in your entire life. Doctor Reid approached this the same way that he approached everything else in life: with intense scrutiny. Clearly his analytical mind was working hard as he carefully peeled back the cardboard flap of the box and slid out his prize.

You had to wonder if that mind of his ever shut off.

You wondered if you could make him dumb and cum drunk, make his head completely empty. You wondered what he would look like mindlessly chasing an orgasm, begging for release with absolutely no statistics or scientific papers running around inside that big brain of his. You wanted to see him completely worn down, just his base instincts at play. You wanted to see him with just the need to fuck and cum and have his release pounding between his ears as he whined desperately for more.

There was a sharp pain between your legs, intense arousal at the thought of it.

That arousal only increased when Spencer dropped the box in his lap and then - like man walking on the moon for the first time - he held the toy delicately in one hand and popped the cap off with the other. Clearly, it was a big discovery for him. Watching his eyes widen with shock did bring you an intense joy. It also immediately made you wonder if seeing the silicone pussy was his first time seeing a pussy so up close and personal at all. That thought only made your own cunt throb with need.

What he did next nearly sent you into orbit.

He gently placed the cap down on his lap, and without looking at you, his thoughtful eyes still entirely focused on the fake pussy - he reached toward it and oh-so-gently stroked his fingers across it. From your perspective, with the angle he was holding it at, you had a perfect view of his gorgeous hand delicately exploring the toy. Your cunt fluttered, clenching around nothing, and you knew that at this point you were definitely sitting in soaked underwear. If you didn’t know Spencer any better, you would have guessed that he was doing this on purpose, to tease you.

But that’s what made it so perfect - he was just naive, just exploring these things for the first time.

When he dipped two of his fingertips into the opening of the toy, you had to consciously hold back a moan. It was almost too hot watching his strong, thick fingers get swallowed up by the soft entrance of the toy. Of course, imagining how those fingers would feel dipping into your pussy with such tender grace.

“Wow.” Spencer said quietly, almost a gasp under his breath as he pulled his fingers back, in pure awe at this new discovery. “I didn’t expect it to be so soft.”

“It’ll feel even better when it’s wet.”

The words came so naturally from your lips, you couldn’t have stopped them if you tried.

Spencer looked up at you with a distinct pinkness spreading over his cheeks, clearly imagining that tight, soft wetness wrapped around his cock.

You dared to take a glance downward and surely enough - beside where the empty box was sitting in his lap, a bulge was forming in his slacks, pressing harshly against the zipper. You deeply resisted the urge to reach over and grope that bulge, not wanting to scare him by coming on too strong. Instead, you put that grabby hand back into your purse to get the other thing you had to give to him.

“Another lesson for the genius,” You announced, extending out the bottle of lube for him to see it. This time he was quicker to grab it, bringing it up to his face to inspect it with thoughtful eyes. “Water based lubricant is best. It’s water soluble, so it’s easy to clean up. And unlike other kinds, it won’t wear down the silicone of the toy over time or wear through the latex of condoms.”

You bringing up condoms caused a jolt in Spencer’s chest. Were you just giving him some friendly advice about safe sex or - or did you actually intend to have intercourse with him? Would there be a need for condoms between the two of you in the future?

The words gave him a temporary bold streak (that and the sexual adrenaline pumping through his system) and he decided to voice his thoughts before he became too shy.

“Can I ask you something?” He asked quietly, his voice taking on that sweet, mousy quality that it usually did whenever he got nervous.

“Of course.” You nodded.

You thought that he might have more questions about the lube or the toy. But what he said next - combined with the fact that he looked at you shyly through his lashes like a doll, like he knew exactly what he was doing - absolutely knocked the wind out of you.

“You… You said that you like teaching me things. So - do you think-?”

He paused for a moment, clearing his throat.

“Could - could you give me a demonstration?” He asked, his voice still shy and sweet.

Your lips gaped in shock - at first you thought you had misheard him. And when the words fully penetrated your ears, you thought that you had somehow misunderstood him. He couldn’t possibly mean-? He wanted you to use the toy on him?

You were shocked that Spencer Reid was openly asking for something like that.

Seeing the shock and slight confusion across your features, Spencer’s mouth raced past his better judgment. His lips plowed over that thing in the back of his brain nagging at him to shut up - and he kept on going.

“It only seems logical that, when tackling something new, especially something this… skill-based, I would need to be shown what to do.” He explained, his mouth running off in that way it always did when he sounded far too much like he knew what he was talking about. “It seems advisable to be shown by someone with more experience. Experience that I don’t have. I need you to show me. Please.”

The last word came out as a breathy plea from him. You could have easily gotten stuck on the fact that he had basically just admitted to you that he was a virgin. But instead, him simply saying that word: ‘please’, begging to you like your attention was the most precious thing in the world; it kickstarted something in your brain and switched on the dominant persona that you had always wanted to use with him.

The air shifted in the room then, and you both knew it. It was like a fire crackling around you. Spencer didn’t know what to do with it, but luckily, you did. He waited with anxious breath for your guidance, your instruction.

“You need me to show you?” You repeated his words, using the buttery sweet voice that you usually did when you had someone so willing and pliant for you.

Instinctively, you reached over to him and gently cupped his cheek. He easily leaned into the touch, shuddering with delight and letting out a small sigh as you made contact with his skin for the first time. It was the first time you had really touched him, aside from casual hugs of comfort after stressful situations that the job naturally gave the two of you. But this was entirely different.

He hummed in affirmation to answer your question, his eyes growing large with lust, pupils blown out as he melted into you.

“What do you want me to show you, pretty boy?” You asked, running your thumb along his bottom lip, admiring how absolutely pink his mouth was.

You hoped that you could prompt a genuine answer out of him - get him to say the words. You had never heard Spencer talk about anything crude before, and you wondered if he was even capable of talking dirty. You hoped that if he wouldn’t say the words on his own, you could coach him into doing it. You could only imagine the satisfaction of getting that smart mouth to utter such filthy things.

“I want…” Spencer swallowed harshly, clearly having a difficult time with his mouth drying out now that you had a hand on him, even though the touch was fairly ‘innocent’. “I want you to show me… everything.”

The intense emphasis that he put on the word sent sparks flying inside of you.

It sounded like he wanted a lot more than just a ‘demonstration’ of the toy. It sounded like he wanted a lot more than just a one night stand to get off.

Intense want flared up of you.

The temptation to own him, to make him yours… the temptation to take all of his first and have him tied to you like a lost puppy because of it - it was an intense one. But you wouldn’t hurt him, no. You would do it right. You would own him in that way because he wanted it just as badly as you did.

“Spencer,”

You said his name suddenly, harconing for his attention with it. You stroked your thumb along his cheek before you pulled the touch away completely. His head bobbed forward slightly to chase your hand, but he let you go without protest.

“If we’re going to do this, there has to be rules.” You told him firmly. “If I’m going to be your teacher, you have to listen to me. Teachers need rules, right?”

Spencer nodded vigorously at this.

“Of course. Yeah - yeah. You’re right.” He eagerly agreed. Then of course, he asked the obvious question. “What are the rules?”

You beamed a smile at him, loving his enthusiasm.

You knew that he would be a good boy. He was so eager to follow rules, to learn. Your body began tingling with delight at the thought of him looking up at you with hazy eyes, asking for his next command.

You had to forcibly clear your head. Right now you had to be level headed in order to teach him the rules.

“Okay the first rule - the most important one,” You prefaced, causing Spencer to straighten up slightly, showing his attentiveness, an eager student ready to learn. “Is that you need to pick a safeword. A word you can say during the scene so that I can know if you’re uncomfortable or if you need to stop.”

“‘The scene’?” Spencer asked, repeating back the phrase to you. “Also - why can’t the safeword just be ‘stop’, or ‘no’? Wouldn’t you just stop things if I said ‘no’?”

You decided to tackle his questions one at a time.

“Calling it a ‘scene’ - it’s lingo.” You said. “You know that everything comes with its own set of linguistics.” You told him, playing into his pre-existing knowledge. He nodded at this.

You then continued your explanation.

“A ‘scene’ means… any type of sexual play. Some people call it ‘playtime’. It’s lingo that exists because for a lot of people, sex is much more than just intercourse. It can start with speech and behavior and any interactions that they have with their partner when they’re alone. Like foreplay. So a safeword needs to be included in those moments too, in case someone needs to call timeout.”

Spencer nodded at this. It made him wish that he had developed a safeword with Lila Archer. Not because he hadn’t enjoyed the oral sex - but because to this day, he still shuddered at the possibility of being embarrassed by someone walking in on them, or the consequences if someone found out about the improprieties of it all.

“As far as the safeword being ‘no’, or ‘stop’…” You took the time to find the right words to explain it.

Spencer waited patiently, feeling curious about this.

“I will always look out for your safety, and if you seem uncomfortable, I’ll ask you if you’re okay.” You assured him, giving him a gentle pat on the knee. Spencer smiled at this, and you enjoyed that you had comforted him with these words.

“But sometimes ‘no’ doesn’t work.” You went on to explain. “Like… if I asked you something like ‘do you want me to stop?’ and you say ‘no’, that is a positive affirmation to continue what I’m doing, but it uses a negative word. Same thing with the word ‘stop’. If you told me ‘don’t stop’ - but your voice was too quiet on the first word or I didn’t properly hear you, then I may stop when you wouldn’t want me to.”

For the first time, Spencer felt as though he was the one being schooled.

You telling him ‘I may stop when you don’t want me to’ had him drawing an image up in his head of you vigorously riding him, taunting him while you were so well composed and he was reduced to a stuttering mess because of your wetness clenching around him. With you mistaking his words for a signal of distress, and taking away your beautiful body before he got to orgasm. It would be tragic.

He easily understood what you meant.

“The point of a safeword,” You continued on. “Is that it stands out. It’s a word you would never otherwise say during playtime. A word that would never come up during sex - except for you signaling your discomfort. So when I hear that word, I know that we need to shift gears into aftercare.”

“What’s aftercare?” Spencer asked, eager to learn another new term as it was introduced to him.

Again, you were puzzled about how to explain it, how to put it into words for someone who had no clue what the word meant.

These were things you had known about for years, words that were a natural part of your vocabulary now. Things you had been doing before you even knew the terms for it. It was strange having to explain it to someone so fresh.

“It - um…” You thought for a moment. “Aftercare is what happens after a scene. It’s the period of time when you mentally and physically wind down, in order to take care of your body and mind. Because of the physical exertion and the endorphins, sex can be exhausting and mentally tedious, as much as it is fun. So - aftercare helps transition the body and mind back into non-sexual activities. Different people need different kinds of aftercare, but usually it’s things like: drinking water, eating a snack, cuddling, words of affirmation.”

“That sounds nice.” Spencer said quietly. “Would you do that for me even - even though I’m not your boyfriend?”

You held back what you instinctively wanted to say - that you wanted him to be your boyfriend. That you wanted to own him like a cute little pet and didn’t want any other woman (or man) to touch him.

Instead, you went with the diplomatic answer.

“Of course I would.” You told him. “Aftercare is part of being a good - a good teacher.”

You quickly cut yourself off from using the word ‘dominant’ and replaced it with ‘teacher’ instead. You didn’t want to scare him with the idea that you would be intimidating, mean, cold - traditional ideas behind the term ‘dominant’.

“I want to be good to you, Spence.” You quickly added on.

His cock throbbed inside of his pants at this.

“So, you have to pick your safeword.” You told him. “Something that stands out, something that will easily come to your mind.”

Spencer took a moment, and you saw him take a sideways glance at the coffee table. The chess set that was there caught his eye, and that didn’t surprise you.

“Bishop?” Spencer posed, looking at you with eyes that said he was absolutely searching for your approval. “Is that good?”

“Yes, baby, that’s perfect.” You told him.

If you did your job well enough as a dominant, then he wouldn’t need to use the word.

You would be able to tell just by his body language and him voicing his enjoyment how far you should take things. And when he was comfortable enough, you would discuss other sexual acts, and what else you should try. Though, for tonight, you had a feeling you should take control without telling him too much of what you wanted to do. You didn’t need him getting shy on you just because of some dirty talk.

“You said that was only the first rule,” Spencer mentioned, remembering what you had said. “What are the other rules?”

“Well, the second rule is: you listen to me. You listen to everything I say. You do everything I say. You don’t question me.” You told him firmly. “Because I’m the teacher, I’m in charge.”

Spencer wanted to question you then. He wanted to point out that this sounded like multiple rules, but the way you said ‘I’m in charge’ caused something inside of him to quake, and he easily fell under your authority.

He nodded.

“The next rule is: you speak when spoken to, Spencer.” You told him, your tongue sharp on the words.

You were heavily enjoying ordering him around now.

These were two roles that the two of you fell so naturally into: he was soft and submissive under your dominant energy, and he only wanted more as your ego thrived off his eager submission. It was the start of a beautiful relationship forming.

“Yes.” He nodded. “Yes, ma’am.” The title came flying out of his mouth before he could stop it, and then he instantly wanted to backpedal. “I’m sorry.”

“No, I like that.” You told him with a grin. “Though, if you want to give me a title, call me Miss.”

You held back from telling him the true title you desired. Again, not wanting to scare him away. Perhaps it was something you could ween him towards on another day.

“Yes, Miss.” He corrected, nodding. “Uh - Miss? Is - is there anything else?”

“Only two more things.” You told him. Of course, you didn’t want to overload him, but you wanted him to know your most important rules up front. He looked at you expectantly, waiting for you to explain. “You can’t touch me without asking first. And of course, you can’t touch me unless I give you permission.”

This news cast the saddest puppy look across his features. Clearly, he was deeply disappointed by the thought that he wouldn’t be able to grope and grab at your body freely. He was upset by the thought that you would deny him access to touching you. You could definitely use that if he ever misbehaved.

“And the last thing is: you can’t cum without my permission.” You told him, almost as if it were an afterthought. With any of your other partners, it would have been. Because it would have been a basic ground rule.

“Come where?” Spencer asked, his brows knit together in the most adorably confused manner you had seen yet.

Of course, he was confused. He had never before heard someone use the term ‘cum’ to refer to an orgasm. He was used to hearing that word - ‘come’ - paired with something else like ‘come here’. So he wondered what the hell you possibly meant by it.

You found yourself grinning like the cat who ate the canary as you realized that you would also have to explain this piece of slang to him.

“No, Spence, not C-O-M-E, like the verb. It’s C-U-M. It’s slang used interchangeably with the word ‘orgasm’.” You explained to him. “Sometimes it can be a verb. Like the act of cumming, it means orgasming. Or sometimes it’s a noun. Sometimes people use the word ‘cum’ instead of saying semen. ‘Cum’ is the fluid. As in: ‘I want your cum inside of me’.”

You intentionally teased him with this example, saying it as casually as a straight forward grammar lesson, looking him in the eyes the entire time. His eyes lit up at your words - obviously, he had no clue that such a simple sentence could turn him on so much. But the words immediately painted a picture in his mind of that white, sticky fluid dripping down your inner thighs, put there by him. It was so perfect that it almost made him dizzy.

When Spencer didn’t say anything, you continued with your ‘lesson’.

“When I said that you can’t cum without my permission, I meant that you can’t have an orgasm unless I say so.” You told him with finality.

He looked struck with worry at this. Partially at the idea that he wouldn’t get to have an orgasm if you didn’t give him permission, and partially at the thought that if he accidentally orgasmed without your permission, you would be angry with him and cut off all further sexual contact.

“What’s wrong, Spence?” You had to ask.

“How - how does that work?” He asked, all too curious at how he could stop himself from orgasming or how he could get your permission first.

“Well, you know what it feels like when you’re about to have an orgasm, right?” You asked, really hoping that he at least masturbated regularly. You didn’t think you could have the burden of giving him his first ever orgasm. He nodded and this and you felt a small breath of relief leave you. “So, when you feel like that, you simply ask me if you’re allowed to cum. Ask me if you can cum.”

“Will you let me?” Spencer asked nervously, sheepishly. You distinctly noticed how he avoided the word. He didn’t say the sentence as you had. You yearned to hear him say ‘will you let me cum?’ - but you knew you had to give him time to shake off his shyness.

“If you’ve been a good boy, then yes.” You told him. “Good boys follow the rules. But I don’t think you’ll have any problems, Spence.”

You saw him relax at this - any tension leaving his muscles.

You conveniently left out the part where you might edge him, might not let him cum just for your own amusement.

“I think that’s all for now.” You told him. “Now that we have the rules set - do you wanna play with your new toy?”

Spencer’s face absolutely lit up at this.

“Yes, please.” He said, his voice somehow still shy and quiet. “Yes, please, Miss.”

Your stomach jolted with intense pleasure at his declaration.

Spencer thought that you would simply grab the toy from him and unzip his pants. He was surprised when you stood up, and began looking around the room as though you were looking for something. But in alignment with the rules, he didn’t question you. He didn’t ask what you were looking for or why. Instead, he just sat there quietly and waited for your instructions.

When you seemed satisfied with your idea, you then began moving around. You leaned down and pushed away the coffee table, pushing it as far back as it would go. This made a fair amount of space in front of the couch. And before Spencer could become truly curious about it, you turned to the side of the room - toward a space where he had a small table.

It was meant to be a sort of ‘dining’ table, suitable for one or two people in an apartment like his. It had two chairs, but one of the chairs was piled up with books and the surface of the table had some files on it that he had taken home from work. He did sit on the other chair to eat occasionally - during the rare times he actually sat down and had a meal at home.

You grabbed the empty chair - which was a wooden chair with a round back and decorative wooden bars coming off the seat, holding the back of it up. (Something Spencer had picked up at a yard sale.) And then you put the chair in the middle of the room, right in the space you had cleared from moving the coffee table. The chair was facing the couch - and it became apparent to Spencer then that this was a stage.

You were either going to sit in that chair and watch him, or he was going to be the thing on display in the middle of the room. The idea of that happening - the idea of you watching him like a show, like he was something to admire - that put a twist in his stomach. It was something almost too daunting for him to conquer. He found himself swelling with shyness again, wanting to back down from this.

He feared that he wouldn’t be able to impress you. He feared that he was gangly, thin, undesirable. He feared that his experience would steer him wrong somewhere and he would mess up terribly and turn you off.

He thought that he wouldn’t be able to impress you.

But he wanted to impress you so badly. He wanted you. He wanted your touch. He wanted to be a good boy for you, like you had said.

“Give me your belt.” You said, turning to him expectantly and holding out your hand.

“My - my belt?” He asked.

Then, he immediately scolded himself inside as he realized that was questioning you, and against the rules.

You let that one slide. He was still getting used to this, and it must have been an odd, confusing instruction to hear right off the bat.

“Yes, your belt. I need it.” You said, still holding out your hand. “Come on.”

Spencer stood up then, his hands and legs shaking slightly from nerves and the overwhelming lust. Although he was taller than you, he felt so entirely small as you stared at him, waiting patiently while his shaking hands struggled to undo the buckle and then slip the leather out of the belt loops.

When he finally handed it over to you, you took the belt in hand and inspected it for a moment before you quietly said ‘perfect’ under your breath. You then looked between Spencer and the chair - he was still wearing his work attire. A cardigan, a button up shirt and tie, his usual slacks, and his adorable dorky glasses. He had taken off his shoes at the door, revealing his oddly sweet mismatched socks.

“Spencer,”

You called his name, capturing his attention from where he was swaying on the spot, nervously fidgeting with the buttons on his cardigan to avoid looking at you. As soon as he looked up at you with those big, wet eyes, you felt confident in giving him your next instruction.

“I want you to take off all your clothes. Except for your glasses and your socks.” You told him, giving him his first proper orders.

He held his voice in his throat when he felt the need to question you about it, to ask you why.

You wanted him to keep the glasses on because they brought an entirely dorky charm to him - you wanted to see if they would fog up when he became heated with lust. The socks? You thought they were cute, but it was mostly a test to see how closely he would follow the instructions. To test how well he would listen.

He did as he was told. He stripped off his sweater, and then his tie, and then his watch, leaving his wrists nice and bare for you. His fingers began to shake slightly as he descended on the buttons of his shirt - clearly, he was feeling nervous once again, so you decided to give him some encouragement.

“You’re being such a good boy, Spence.” You told him. “So good for me.”

He let out a quiet breath at the praise - a precursor to a moan. It was something that compelled him to strip faster, and gave him a small boost of courage when reaching for the zipper of his pants. After he unzipped them - his erection clearly fighting to be freed of the fabric - your mouth began watering at the sight as he reached for the waistband of his pants and his underwear all at once and slid them down.

A snake of surprising length popped out of his pants. His dick began bobbing around carelessly, smearing shiny precum all over his skin as he unhooked himself from the legs of his pants and put them aside.

You had to marvel at it.

You had never really thought about what Spencer might look like naked before. You had never allowed your mind to venture there. But now that you were seeing his cock: nine inches long, skinny and lean like he was, pale with a bright pink tip, sprouting from a thick thatch of dark pubic hair - it just made sense. He was tall and gangly, and so was his cock. It would be an impressive sword to impale yourself upon - but that would be for another day.

Spencer caught you staring, of course.

He had the urge to cover himself with his hands, and found himself clenching his fists by his sides because he figured that you wouldn’t like him trying to hide from you.

He wondered if it looked weird. He wondered if you didn’t like it. He wondered-

“You’re beautiful, Spencer.” You said, your voice so drenched in utter sincerity that you almost broke into a gasp trying to get the words out. “So fucking beautiful.”

Again, he wanted to question you - but didn’t. He wanted to be a good boy. He would follow the rules.

“Th-thank you, Miss.” He muttered out quietly, almost unable to accept the compliment.

“Come here, sit down.” You told him, motioning toward the chair.

He nodded, his legs feeling rather numb as he moved to follow your instructions. When his ass made contact with the wooden surface of the chair, he let out a gasp at how cool it was compared to his heated skin. You quietly giggled at this, and then grabbed the belt from where you had put it down. He grew tense and curious once again when you walked behind him.

You grabbed one of his wrists and began to guide it behind him, but he was so tense that you knew it would be uncomfortable for him. You eased your touch with a flat palm up his forearm and bicep, across his shoulder until you could press the weight of your thumb into the base of his neck. He moaned lightly at this, melting into the touch.

“Relax, baby.” You urged. Spencer relaxed even further at the nickname, absolutely blooming with affection inside because of it. “I’m not gonna do anything to hurt you. I just want to make you feel good.”

To drive home this point, you leaned in and planted a simple kiss on the back of his head, and then one on the side of his neck. Spencer let out a fluttering moan at this. He wanted more of those kisses, but he couldn’t work up the nerve to ask for it.

He could find no faults with what you had said, so he did his best to do as you instructed. He relaxed, leaning back fully against the chair - which was slightly uncomfortable while he was completely naked and throbbing hard, waiting for you to touch him more. But he trusted you.

You grabbed one of his wrists, and then the other, and guided them behind his back.

It was much easier now that his muscles were softer, more pliant to you.

You knelt down and used the belt to tie them simply. You looped the belt through the wooden slats so his hands would be held to the chair, and then placed both of his wrists into the loop. You didn’t want it to be so tight that the material would cut into his wrists painfully or cut off circulation, you just wanted to restrict his movement.

Which would absolutely be the case when his arms were bound behind him, awkwardly tied to the back of the chair. You hooked the buckle into the smallest notch, giving him a bit of room to move, a bit of a gap to put your finger between the belt and his skin. However, it put his shoulders at an awkward angle so he would need your help getting out of it.

“Is that okay?” You asked. “Not too tight? Be honest.”

Spencer thought that he should feel slightly afraid or too vulnerable - being completely naked and tied to a chair like this. But with you, he felt safe.

“It’s good.” He told you honestly. “Not too tight.” He assured you, moving to show off that wiggle room, demonstrating that the material wasn’t cutting into his wrists.

“Good,” You sighed quietly, standing up once again.

You walked around him like a predator circling their prey, making graceful, careful moments as you took in the sight of him.

He was absolutely, beautifully sinful in this state.

Stripped entirely naked, except for those glasses and those adorable, mismatched socks, sitting in the chair with his hands bound behind his back. All while he stared at you with his wide, expectant eyes, waiting for whatever your next move would be. While his heavy, hard cock leaked freely against his stomach, smearing a trail of sticky precum across his skin.

You reached forward and grabbed his chin, tilting his head up slightly to look at you. Having someone as tall as Spencer look up at you for a change was entirely powerful. You held him there while you asked him a very important question.

“You gonna be good for me?” You asked him.

Instinctively for him, there was only one answer.

“Yes.” He whimpered out. “Yes, Miss. I want to be good for you.”

The pure sincerity of his declaration caused another wave of wetness from your aching pussy. For now, you would ignore your own needs. You would take care of him, make sure that this was a pleasurable experience for him.

“Good boy,” You praised him, giving him a light kiss on the forehead - to which he sighed quietly in delight.

Then, you let go of his face completely and turned to grab the item that had started this whole thing.

You were excited to finally use it on Spencer.

Spencer watched with awe and intrigue as you grabbed the toy and then the lube - you peeled off the plastic shrink wrap on the lube bottle with your teeth, and then popped the cap. And you turned so Spencer could see as you poured a generous amount of lube into the opening of the toy.

“Don’t be afraid to use too much lube,” You told him, being a proper teacher. “In my opinion, there’s no such thing as ‘too wet’. But ‘too dry’ can cause skin irritation from friction. Or tearing if you’re trying to insert something like fingers or a penetrative toy. Like a dildo. Adequate lubrication always reduces the risk of both those things,”

Spencer wanted to ask if there were other kinds of penetrative toys aside from dildos, but he figured that would be a question for another time.

“Yes, Miss.” He nodded in understanding, absorbing what you had told him.

You looked between the toy and his cock, and realized you might as well slick him up beforehand.

You took a step closer to him and put the thickness of the fleshlight between his thighs, propping it there while you quietly mumbled ‘hold this’ - which caused him to tense his thighs in order to keep it from falling. He became enraptured by the sight of the silicone pussy, lubed and wet as a real one would be. He was so distracted by the sight that he almost didn’t take in you pouring lube into your hand before you capped the bottle and put it aside.

“This is probably gonna be cold,” You warned him quietly before you used your lubed hand to take a hold of his cock.

It was. And he let out a harsh gasp - from the shock of the cold wetness, a sound that quickly turned into a strangled moan as you formed a loose grip around his cock and began spreading the wetness over him with purpose. The lube soon warmed between your palm and the throbbing skin of his cock, and he unconsciously bucked into your touch, almost knocking the fleshlight out from resting between his thighs.

“Stay still.” You ordered sharply, shoving his hips back down with your free hand.

The harshness behind your voice, and your thumb pressing into his hip bone sent him reeling. He was so pliant under your touch. Between your commanding authority and the slickness of your lubed hand moving in a slow rhythm in lazy pumps up and down his cock - he was already way too fucking close.

You knew it. You could see the way his stomach muscles quaked, the tensing of his thighs. Those little lilting gasps like music to your ears.

You wondered if he would spurt cum all over your hand before he warned you. (If he did, you would likely pump him through it just to see if he would get hard again.)

“Miss-!” He hollered, choking on the word.

You abruptly stopped then. You stiffened your grip around the base of his cock - which was now nicely lubed up, and throbbing even harder as you effectively used your fingers around his pelvis like a cockring, causing his orgasm to fade dully back into his muscles. He let out a wounded sound, a confused moan from deep in his chest, his stomach shaking even harder as if he was trying to force the orgasm out past your gatekeeping touch. It was almost cute.

“Yes, Spencer?” You asked, looking at him dumbly as though you had no clue what he had been trying to say.

“I - I was getting close.” He completed the thought breathlessly. “C-close to orgasm.”

Damn. If he was this fucked out now, you couldn’t wait to see what he would be like when you were done with him.

“Well, good boys only cum with permission, right?” You said, grinning at him fiendishly.

“Yes, Miss.” He said quickly, his voice dull with disappointment, but agreeable.

“Good boy.” You praised once again. You felt his cock twitch in your hand at the words. “Besides, you haven’t even gotten a chance to try out your new toy yet.”

You then grabbed up the toy and turned it over, using your hand on the base of his cock to feed his length into the fake pussy. More cool lube came rushing down to meet him, and his lungs shook once again and his heated skin was shocked by the feeling. It was strange, but pleasurable as his cock was enveloped by the soft, wet walls of the toy. It was so, so very tight around his cock - and oddly cool, far wetter than he had expected thanks to the amount of lube you had used.

Spencer reasoned that it might be like sticking his cock in a watermelon, if that watermelon were also made of rubber bands.

You knelt down in front of Spencer, looking in awe between the spot where his cock disappeared into the fake leaking pussy to his face. Seeing his reaction to this was utterly beautiful - the way his jaw naturally fell open, his eyes half closed as the pleasure overtook him.

“Oh!” Spencer let out a sudden, high startled sound as you shoved the toy down onto his cock fully.

Your eyes once again flickered between his dick and his face, and you came to an utterly stunning realization.

He didn’t fully fit inside of the toy.

There was about an inch of his cock that was still sticking out of it at the base, and with the resistance your hand had brought up into, you knew that he was fully seated inside of it. Well - as fully seated as he could get, apparently.

It was one of the hottest things you had ever seen, and it sent a dizzying wave of endorphins through you. The sight of his cock not fully fitting into the silicone pussy was a stunning visual that made you realize just how deep he would go inside of you. It made your throat dry for a moment, forced you to swallow hard before you could speak.

“You’re right here, baby?” You asked, tapping a finger on the top of the toy, knowing that he would feel it as a vibration through the plastic.

He let out a gasp and bucked his hips up slightly, something that made you smile. He was too hazy to answer you already, something that you forgave for now. He was just too beautiful to scold in these moments.

“Fuck, you don’t even fit into this thing all the way, do you?” You gasped quietly, still absolutely marveling at the sight.

“I don’t?” Spencer gaped, finally looking down to where the toy was swallowing his cock, seeing as your words had captured his attention. “Is - is that bad?”

He was struck with worry. He thought that perhaps his cock wasn’t right - that he shouldn’t be doing this, that you wouldn’t like him.

It was in that moment that you realized what a treasure you had come across. A beautiful, intelligent man with a huge cock who had no idea how to use it. Someone who needed to be taught from scratch. Someone who could be molded into anything you wanted him to be. (At least in the sexual sense.) That, and he seemed to be naturally submissive and derive pleasure from following your orders.

You most definitely weren’t going to let him go anytime soon.

“No, baby, that’s a good thing.” You assured him. “That’s a great thing.”

Spencer smiled at this - an expression that slacked off into a moan when you made your next move.

You gave the toy a slow half-pump before you seated it on his cock again, seemingly knocking the wind out of them. Then, you let go of the toy completely, letting him sit there with the fleshlight on his cock, bobbing in mid-air. It began to rise up slightly as the tightness of it hugged his cock, and unconsciously, he bucked up his hips, seeking more friction. But of course - the object was simply hanging there, seated on his cock, unmoving. It was an entirely fruitless venture.

With his hands tied behind his back, he needed you. It was an adorable struggle to watch for a moment, especially when his face knit with frustration and his thighs began to quiver from the effort.

“Please,” He begged. He was so pretty when he begged. “Help me.”

“You want me to help you fuck your toy?” You teased, reaching for it again.

“Please, Miss.”

When he whined like that, you couldn’t bring yourself to deny him.

You took a good grip on the plastic then, and began a quick, smooth rhythm. You were eager to see his reaction to being fucked well, being fucked without hesitation.

Spencer immediately shuddered and began letting out harsh whimpers. He bit his lip, but it didn’t keep the sounds from wailing out of his throat as you pumped the toy up and down on his cock.

His chin was tilted down onto his chest, keeping his eyes locked on the place where the toy was devouring his hard cock. This caused his glasses to slip down his nose bridge slightly, something so entirely adorable to you in the moment. With his thighs tense and his stomach quaking, with that pool of artificial wetness leaking onto his pubes and slowly creeping down over his balls - he was so beautifully fucked out, the most perfect picture you had ever seen in your life.

“Oh - oh, oh, oh god!” His mouth fell open once again and an array of sounds fell out, a beautiful little choir that you could have only dreamed of coming from him. “Oh, please!”

You had to wonder if he was the type of person to swear when he came. Spencer was never the type of person to swear during other extreme situations. You had never seen him let out a single curse, not even with a gun to his head.

You had to wonder if you could be the one to make him swear.

“Please, Miss!” He squeaked out, sounding entirely wrecked and desperate. “Please, I’m close-!”

You couldn’t resist the temptation of stilling the toy completely, abruptly cutting off his orgasm once again. Spencer let out a broken sound as his muscles jolted and the feeling ebbed through him - so close, but not quite there. It was like a terrible ache in his muscles. Like a deep, terrible thirst with nothing to drink.

“Please,” He begged, his eyes shooting to lock onto you. “Please! Please, Miss.”

“Please, what, baby?” You teased him, reaching up and gently carding your fingers through his hair, brushing some of it off his forehead. He had a light sheen of sweat going, his body clearly strained. It was delightful to witness.

“Please,” He rasped out brokenly, so entirely desperate. “I - I need it.”

You bit your lip, holding back laughter at how perfect this was.

“Need what, baby?” You continued to tease him. “Come on, use your words.”

He swallowed hard, and stared at you with glassy desperation in his eyes. Either he was shy, or had no clue what exactly it was you wanted him to say - so you decided to guide him along.

“Say: I need to cum.” You told him, hoping that he was desperate enough now that he would simply repeat the filthy words.

“I - I need to cum.” He repeated, only mild hesitation on his lips.

“Say: I need you to make me cum.” You told him, pushing it a bit father.

“I need you,” He said, pausing slightly to catch his breath. “Need you to make me cum.”

“Good boy.” You praised him, running his hand through your hair once again.

You stood up this time, and put one hand on the back of the chair behind his shoulder for leverage, leaning over him as you took the toy in hand and started moving it once again. This gave him a perfect view down your top, and his lustful gaze locked onto your swaying cleavage as you worked on jacking the fake pussy on his cock. It was a maddening suction that had him grunting lowly with every thrust, letting out whines, flexing his hips to fuck his cock up into the toy.

“Does it feel good, pretty boy?” You asked, so heavily enjoying the sight of him so messy, so wrecked.

“Yes!” He easily replied.

“What are you thinking about? Hmm?” You couldn’t help but to ask.

“I - hnng - I - I don’t know!” He gaped.

Either he was lying, and simply didn’t want to tell you what was on his mind, or you had truly fucked his head empty. If it was the second, then you would heavily enjoy that fact.

“You don’t know?” You asked, your voice absolutely teasing once again. “Well, that’s a first.” You chuckled.

Spencer panted harshly, filling the space for a moment - along with the wet squelching of the toy moving up and down on his cock as your wrist continued to work. And then you became bold enough to ask the question that you truly wanted to.

“You thinkin’ about my pussy?” You prodded. “You imagining that this toy is me? Wondering what’s gonna be like when I finally sit on your cock?”

“Yes!” He was suddenly very eager to admit to this. Clearly it helped that he didn’t have to say the words for himself. “Yes! Yes, Miss! I want you. I want your-”

He cut himself off suddenly, moaning sharply as the tip of his cock brought up in the end of the fake pussy once again. It sent a jolt of pleasure-pain through him that had his skin boiling even hotter. You wondered if he would be bold enough to say the word ‘pussy’ or if you would have to heavily prompt him.

But that thought left your head completely with his next words.

“Oh! Oh, please! I’m so close!”

Again, feeling the devil rise up inside of you, you stopped off his orgasm.

This time, by pulling the toy away completely. You lifted the fleshlight off his cock, and watched with lustful joy as his cock slipped out of the opening with a wet pop. His thighs quaked with bitter agony and his long cock bobbed in the air, dripping thick waves of precum and lube as it separated from the toy.

Everything was so wet.

It was honestly a gorgeous sight, like a mini tidal wave dripping down onto the chair as the toy continued to leak the generous amount of lube you had put into it and his cock let out pathetic little spurts of precum. His pubes were glossy and matted together, his inner thighs were absolutely slick. He was glistening and whining harshly as the ruined orgasm crashed through his body, making his mind somehow even hazier and more desperate.

“God!” He choked out. “Please!”

He blinked harshly and a few tears escaped the corners of his eyes, making him look even more gorgeous somehow.

“Please - please! I need - I need - oh god!” He began sobbing nonsensically, begging you for release as he was practically on the verge of madness.

Your cunt throbbed at seeing him so wrecked - so utterly dependent on you.

“Hey, hey, shh.” You reached your free hand out and thumbed under the edge of his glasses - the thick lenses only magnifying his glassy eyes and lustful, broken tears all the more. You soothed your touch across his burning cheek, reassuring him. “You’ve been such a good boy. I’m gonna let you cum now. Okay?”

“Please!” He sobbed.

Hearing his voice so broken and needy probably shouldn’t have turned you on so much, but you absolutely loved it.

“Hey, shh,” You continued to rub his cheek, and he leaned into the touch. “I just need one thing from you first.”

“Anything!” He easily declared.

“I need you to say: ‘may I cum, please?’” You told him.

It was a start on the scale of filthy things that you wanted to hear from his mouth, but it would definitely be oh so satisfying.

And then - as if he knew exactly what he was doing to you, he blinked his big eyes and looked up at you through tear wet lashes, giving you the most pouty, fuckable look as he leaned into your hand before he said the words.

“May I cum, please?” He asked. And then, like the wet dream that he was, he seamlessly added on. “Please, Miss. I-I’ve been a good boy.”

“Yes, you have been.” You told him. “I’ll make you cum now baby.”

You used both hands to get his cock back inside of the toy - the sound of his cock fucking back into the fake pussy was so much wetter, the whine he let out made your knees weak.

You doubled your efforts now, even going so far as to squeeze your grip on the outside of the plastic - which made the silicone grip his cock just that little bit tighter as you slammed it up and down on him. Your movements were hard and fast in the effort to make him cum for certain this time.

“Oh, oh, oh, you - oh!” Spencer began babbling nonsense, his words barely broken up by harsh breaths being sucked into his lungs and whimpers emanating from his throat at the intense pleasure. “Oh, Miss - you - you’re so - ah!”

“Where’s that big IQ now, boy genius?” You taunted him, keeping up the brutal pace. “Did I make you all stupid? Did I melt your big brain? Huh?”

Spencer all but confirmed this as truth when he gurgled out nothingness as a response.

You felt slightly bolder, and you became slightly harsher in your degrading words. You almost couldn’t help yourself. You loved tearing him apart so much, having him melt under your touch. You couldn’t help but to brag about the amazing job you had done.

“Just a dumb little baby now, aren’t you?” You cooed, your voice entirely condescending. “Just a stupid little boy for me. So cumdrunk you can’t even think now, huh? There’s no boy genius here now. Just a dumb baby who needs to cum.”

He only inflated your ego with his next words.

“Yes!” He shouted out, entirely confirming what you had said - if he had even properly heard it through the blood pumping in his ears. To him, it might have just been the raw hum of your voice in the background, like an undertone with no true words to it. “Yes! Need - need t’ cum!”

It was the most incoherent you had ever known Doctor Spencer Reid to be.

You stared on eagerly as you watched his stomach tighten up, his lungs struggling for breath.

“Y/N-!” He gasped out your name right before it hit him.

And when it hit him, when he finally tumbled over the edge into the abyss - boy, it was a big one.

It was an intense, full body orgasm. His legs shook, his body arched off the chair as though he were having a seizure, actually putting a strain on his bonded arms for the first time. He wildly bucked up into the toy as you continued to work it over his cock, his mouth dropping open wildly as a strain of high pitched, needy whimpers poured out from between his pretty pink lips.

You were feeling selfish, and you wanted to see him cum at least a bit.

So knowing that he was riding the wave, you ripped the toy off him, causing a wounded noise to come out of him as his spurting cock fell from it. But you didn’t leave him hanging. You immediately replaced the toy with your hand, and put a tight grip around him, pumping viciously over his throbbing cock, wanting to milk the rest of the orgasm out of him by hand.

The sudden, shocking overstimulation sent his body into overdrive.

His thighs shook so hard it could have been mistaken for electrocution, he gasped like a drowning man - he would have begged for mercy, but he couldn’t catch his breath.

It was the best feeling he had ever experienced. It was pure euphoria, it was heaven on earth. It was an icy hot fire running through his veins that he didn’t even know was possible.

He had never experienced an orgasm like this before. He knew the feeling of an orgasm to be more like a dull tickle in his groin. But now that he had done this - he didn’t think he could go back to anything else.

Large spurts of cum blasted from his cock, so overpowering then that painted his stomach, his chest, and much to your delight - a few thick white spurts even dirtied his glasses when you angled his cock that way and kept viciously pumping him.

His cock was so hot that it felt like it could have burned your hand, so needy and bloated with blood from how long you had edged him. Eventually, when the tip of his cock began to weep out a pathetic clear liquid, and he was on the verge of sobbing once more, you let him go from your grip, finally giving him a moment to breathe.

You knew for certain that you would never be able to look at Spencer Reid again without seeing this imagery: him, completely fucked out, his face flushed red, mouth agape as he struggled for breath. His naked body, limp cock laying against his pelvis, painted in his own cum - including dirtying up his own glasses.

You loved those glasses even more now.

You couldn’t get him to swear - but fuck, that was really something.

“Thank you.” He said meekly, still struggling for breath. “Th-thank you, Miss.”

“Good boy.” You leaned in and kissed his forehead. “Such a good boy for me.”

Now, it was time to take care of him and make sure that he had a good come down.

You put the toy on the coffee table, placing it with the opening up so it wouldn’t leak everywhere - you wouldn’t clean it later. You also took off his glasses and placed them aside. Again - you would clean them later.

You rushed to untie his hands, and eased his arms back around his body by gently rubbing his shoulders, hoping that the muscles wouldn’t be too sore or stiff from being in the same position for so long.

“Such a good boy.” You assured him. “You did so well for me honey.”

He hummed in acknowledgement. Clearly, he was absolutely exhausted from the ordeal. You hoped you could get his tall, gangly self to his bed on your own if he was so fucked out and weak. You walked back around to his front and laid your lips on his forehead again, murmuring more praises against his skin as you continued to rub his shoulders and run your fingers through his hair. You told him how good he was, how perfect he had been for you, how beautiful he was.

After a few minutes, you felt his hands on your hips as he came out of the haze. He ran a thumb along the waistband of your pants, and his first words after that haze surprised you.

“What - what about you?” He asked.

Clearly, he meant that you should have an orgasm. Your cunt was aching dully between your thighs, and you were sure that you had soaked through your underwear. But that had been a lot for him, and you didn’t want to overwhelm him during the first time.

“That’ll be a lesson for next time.” You told him quietly. He hummed quietly at this. He felt assured by you simply saying ‘next time’. “I have to clean up your toy now, so you can use it again later. Then I’ll clean you up and tuck you into bed, okay, baby?”

He nodded. “Yes, please. Thank you.”

You hesitantly broke away from him and grabbed the toy, and as you moved to leave the room, you paused at him mumbling out more words.

“Can - can I have a glass of water, please?” He asked quietly.

“Of course you can, baby.”

You went into the kitchen and ran the toy under hot water - which you left going as you got a glass and filled it with cold water and ice from the dispenser. You were lucky to find a straw in the takeout bag from earlier - you put it in the glass and, while the hot water was still running in the sink, you rushed out to give Spencer a drink.

You held the glass while he chugged gratefully from it, and after a few moments, you ensured that he could hold it with his sex tired hands by himself and then you left to finish cleaning up the toy. You set it on his empty dish rack to drip dry (which was quite a sight). And then you went to the bathroom, coming back with a warm cloth to wipe him down. He was only slightly unsteady on his legs as you guided him to bed - his muscles shaking and tired after the whole amazing ordeal.

You found it endearing that his bed was unmade, surrounded by stacks of books that were lined up on the floor, rather than on any shelf.

You pulled back the covers completely and helped him get in, and you were tucking him in nicely when he asked the sweet question.

“Will you cuddle with me?” He asked quietly, looking up at you with those adorable, expectant eyes once again. “You know, for - for the aftercare?”

You likely would have done it simply because he asked, even if you didn’t deem it ‘necessary’ for aftercare. But because he asked, it was part of good care.

“Of course.” You answered. “I don’t have any pjs, so do you mind if I sleep in my underwear?”

You had just tucked him into bed naked, and he was asking you to lay down beside him like that. But still, you wanted to ask how comfortable he would be if you were in a state of undress.

His eyes shined with interest at the idea of seeing you at least partially undressed.

“I don’t mind.” He told you.

You nodded, and stepped back slightly to begin undressing.

“So - did you have fun?” You asked. You suspected that he had entirely enjoyed himself, but you did want to hear him say it.

Spencer grinned at this. “I think what we just did has changed my definition of ‘fun’ entirely.” He told you. “In a good way. So you know.”

You preened at the idea that you had shifted Spencer’s worldview. Someone who most likely spent his free time reading research papers and playing through chess games entirely on his own and called it ‘fun’ would now be thinking about spending his free time playing with you instead.

You stripped out of your pants, socks, and work blouse, which left you in your simple cotton underwear, a thin cotton camisole and your bra underneath. You decided to take off your bra underneath your shirt and just sleep in the cami and panties for comfort. You knew your underwear was stuck to your cunt from your previous burning arousal, and Spencer’s eyes did focus hard on that, and then focused even harder on the outline of your bare breasts as you ditched your bra off to the side.

If he had the ability to get hard again after that spectacular orgasm, he probably would have been throbbing at the sight of you.

You lifted up the covers and crawled into bed with him, cuddling into his side as he tentatively wrapped an arm around your waist. Your stomach fluttered when he kissed the top of your head before you felt his body relax into the mattress.

“Thank you.” He said quietly, clearly exhausted. “I love it when you teach me things.”

...

Keep Reading Here - Lesson Two: Magic Metacarpals

Note: This is a Capsule Series, so each fic can be read as an individual oneshot. There is no overarching story, and no specific ending.

#sundrop writes #spencer reid #spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid x you #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid smut #spencer reid fanfiction #criminal minds #criminal minds fandom #criminal minds fic #criminal minds fanfiction

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