Dreamer

꩜ Embrace your weirdness

[starxs-s]

Hi It's Maria! ᶻ 𝗓 𐰁

🌀 she/her. 8teen. intp. virgo sun. pisces moon. slut rising.

me about my works masterlist to be published taglist anon post my ko-fi

I don't consent to copying my work or translating it, don't upload it to an other platforms, don't turn it into AI bots.

© starxs-s. est, 2026

Divider credit: @uzmacchiato

[starxs-s]

Let’s get this driving license ig…

[carmysdoll]

this is one of my upcoming au’s I’d like to post soon , I’d love for some requests on what you would like to see for it , and some ideas and things you would want for the reader , I plan on making her a profile like this here (an example) and I’d love to incorporate what you guys would want , my inbox is open to suggestions and to yap about it mwah !!

here is the pinterest as well !!

᧔᧓ also if you would like to be added to my permanent asoiaf taglist or just the taglist for this , please comment (be specific to what taglist) !!

[starxs-s]

I’ve been waiting for days like this!! Tag me for sure, I’m so excited already!! I’d love to see them with their dragons, Aerion finally having one or actually not having one and being jealous of his siblings 😛

[captainfern]

Thoughts on dads best friend dex and summer break college student reader? Perhaps a pool and some sunbathing involved? 👀

Ask Me Nicely

Benjamin 'Bullseye' Poindexter x fem!reader

✿ your dad’s best friend is staying with you for the summer. he’s older, ridiculously attractive, and he’s definitely into you. ✿ 18+ ✿ wc: 7.8k ✿ cw: fem!reader, college/uni student!reader (unspecified major), canon divergence, dd!dex/fbi!dex but with ddba!dex personality lol, no y/n, reader is physically undefined, sexual tension, allusion to dex stalking watching reader, undefined age gap, SMUT, oral (f!receiving), unprotected piv, creampie bby, dirty talk, praise!!, pet names (baby, sweetheart, etc), power imbalance if you squint, strong language, definitely ooc but idgaf he’s hot, british english author tries her best with american english (again)

The heat in the air is honey-thick and melts against your dewy skin, seeping deep into the marrow of your limbs as you lay stretched out and boneless on your cushioned sunlounge. It’s early July, and you’ve been spending the last couple of weeks spread out like a cat beside the large pool of your family home. You’ve also spent the last couple of weeks trying not to act a total fool around Dex, your dad’s best friend.

Sunglasses perched comfortably on the bridge of your nose, your eyes draw lines of interest across the glittering surface of the pool. It ripples and sparkles beneath the midday sun in a mosaic of blues and whites, but you’re not looking at the colours. You’re looking at where Dex leans against the tiled edge, muscular arms folded against the ground as he speaks with your father, who sits on the edge with his legs in the water.

From this angle, the muscles of Dex’s back are well-defined. Drops of water roll over the mounds of his shoulders, down between the dips of his shoulder blades, down further following the line of his spine. You know you’re staring, but you hope the sunglasses and the book in your hand are enough of a deterrent, especially when your father suddenly looks up and Dex moves to follow.

Your eyes find the page—page eighty-four, which you had been on for the last forty minutes—just as your dad calls your name. Feigning disinterest, you allow your sunglasses to slip down your nose as you peer at him over the rims.

“You mind grabbing a couple’a Heinekens?” Your dad asks, nodding towards the cooler a few yards from where you’re lying.

You shoot him an incredulous look.

“Please,” Dex adds, and your eyes find his. He offers you a charming smile, the one he had been offering you for the last couple of weeks. Embarrassingly enough, heat begins to eat away at the pit of your stomach, but you will yourself to ignore it as you put your book aside and pick yourself off the sunlounge with a groan. You hear Dex chuckle, “Thank you.”

You pull open the cooler and grab two beers from the icy depths, snatching the opener from the table nearby as you round the pool. You open your dad’s first, catching the cap and handing him the bottle. He accepts it with a small smile, before you uncap the other bottle. You miss the cap and it hits the ground with a light clatter as you lean down and offer it to Dex. You’re completely aware of the way your tits are practically spilling out of the top of your swimsuit as you lower the beer to him.

You hold back a smile as you notice the nearly imperceptible flicker of his eyes—down, then back up—and the gentle bob of his Adam’s apple. He takes the beer, fingers brushing yours, and maybe it’s the heat smothering your brain, but you swear they linger for longer than necessary.

“Anything else?” You ask, almost sarcastically, as you bend to pick the bottle cap from off of the cement tiles.

But Dex beats you to it. He grabs the cap between his middle and index finger, and precedes to thread it around his knuckles. You watch him curiously, as he flips it from forefinger to pinky, and back again. The entire time you watch the cap, Dex is watching you—his eyes quickly roaming down your legs as you stand up.

“No thank you,” your dad says, and you offer both men a small smile as you return to your side of the pool.

You settle back into your sunlounge, intent on actually reading your book. As you read, you listen to the distant calls of robins from amongst the tangled branches of a nearby oak, and the quiet conversation between your dad and his best friend. Dex was a bit younger than him, and truthfully, you didn’t know much about him. All you knew is that your dad, as gruff and stern and very FBI-suited as he was, seemed to really enjoy Dex’s company. Which is why the handsome FBI agent had spent the last few weeks of summer in the guest room.

After a while, the sliding door of your house opens and your mother pokes her head out. 

She addresses your father by name. “Someone’s on the phone asking for you.”

Your dad sighs loudly. “I’m on break.”

“They said it’s important.”

Your dad sighs again, but gets up. Wet footprints follow him as he disappears inside the house, the sliding door closing with a snap behind him. You continue your relaxation, finally onto a new chapter of your book, when the movement of water draws your eyes from the page.

Dex wades across the pool, water rippling over the muscles in his arms, before he folds them against the edge as he settles himself right across from you. Hiding a smile, you lift your sunglasses onto your head. He looks at you, watching, observing, a crooked sort of smile on his face.

“What’re you reading?” He asks, and that heat in the pit of your stomach flushes deeper through your diaphragm, warming your chest. He looks at you as if he’s known you a lot longer than three weeks, and you have to stop yourself squirming in your seat.

You lift your book, showing him the cover.

He hums. “Looks boring.”

You scoff. “It’s not boring.”

“You sure?” Dex cocks his head, nodding to where you rest it in your lap—against your bare thighs, which Dex is quite obviously looking at. “You haven’t made much progress since you picked it up… what, three weeks ago?”

“Mind your business,” you say, snapping the book shut. “I’m a slow reader.”

“Sure you are.” Dex looks around, and you realise he’s still fidgeting with the bottle cap. The empty beer bottle remains on the other side of the pool, but he’s still rolling the cap between his fingers. He looks back at you then, noticing the way you’re watching the cap move. He stops. “You want me to teach you?”

“Huh?” You look up.

Wordlessly, Dex pushes himself out of the pool. You have to stop yourself gaping as he slips the cap between his teeth to get two flat hands against the pool edge and hoist himself up, water falling down the length of his bare chest and abdomen. He grunts, and the sound goes straight between your legs, and you hiccup around a whimper as you trap it in your throat. Dex approaches, taking the cap from between his teeth.

You yelp when he plants himself right beside you on the sunlounge, and you toss your book away as he flicks water across you.

“Hey!” You exclaim, but Dex just chuckles. 

He sits slightly behind you, and as your annoyance clears, you’re suddenly aware of just how close he is. You can feel the water-coolness of his skin radiating in the heat around you.

“It’s easier with a coin, but you’ll be able to do it,” Dex begins, showing you his hand. You run your eyes along the bumps of his knuckles and the veins that press against the sun-kissed skin. He threads the bottle cap from his thumb, over his forefinger, then the middle, ring and pinky, then back again. “You start here, pushing with your thumb to start with, then move your other fingers in a scissor motion… see?”

He does it again, but faster.

You gape. “How do you do it that fast?”

“Practise,” he says, offering you the cap. 

You take it hesitantly, as though it’ll cut through your skin, and he smiles at you. You feel around the ridges, rolling it against the pad of your thumb and forefinger (totally not thinking about the fact it’s been between his teeth). Then, your breath catches in your chest as Dex reaches over and takes gentle hold of your wrist, steadying your hand.

“Don’t want you moving your wrist too much,” he whispers, and it’s so soft that you swear he’s saying it directly into your ear. With his other hand, he rolls the cap across your knuckles with a push of his finger. “You need to catch the edge of the cap with one finger, and flip it up with the other.”

Still holding your wrist, he takes the cap and positions it between your thumb and forefinger. Slowly, you do what he had said, using your thumb to push the cap over your knuckle and lifting your middle finger just enough to catch the edge of it. It flips over, but you lose it before you can lift your ring finger.

“Good girl, that was great,” Dex praises, retrieving the cap from your lap. His fingers are cold and wet against the warm flesh where your thighs press together. He pushes the cap back between your thumb and forefinger. “Try again.”

You do. Much the same happens, and the cap falls between your thighs again. Dex’s hand tightens on your wrist as he retrieves the cap, fingers tracing a deliberate line over the curve of your thigh.

“I don’t think I can do it,” you say, eyes dropping to where two fingers slide through dewyness of your skin, courtesy of your sunscreen, to where the cap sits in the valley of your thighs. He grabs it slowly as you continue, “S’too hard.”

“One more try,” Dex utters, and you’re sure he’s closer now. He hands you the cap. “There we go, one more try.”

You huff lightly, but do as you’re told. You push the bottle cap over your forefinger, catching it with the middle, flipping it, then catching it with your ring finger. It topples over the side of your pinky, but you’re beaming anyway, letting out a little noise of excitement as Dex finally removes his hand from your wrist.

“I did it!” You say with a broad, victorious smile across your face. It doesn’t matter you couldn’t bring it back around your hand, nor does it matter that the movements were slow and wobbly—you did it, and that’s all that matters.

Dex smiles, eyes flitting across your face. “You sure did, sweetheart. Good job.”

—✿—

The next day is much the same.

This time, you lay flat on your stomach, a plush towel beneath you as you rest under the sun. You’re only a few inches from the edge of the pool, eyes closed and listening to the gentle lap of the water against the side. You’re wearing a different swimsuit today, with the curve of your arse on full display, as well as the supple fat of the back of your thighs and the dip in your lower spine.

Dex likes this swimsuit. The colour is nice on your skin, he thinks. It’s nice on your body. He’d come to that conclusion when he looked out the window of the guest room and saw you laying like this, alone in the backyard. He’d stared for eight minutes before deciding to come down and join you. Your father had been called into work, and Dex was thrilled when his friend had informed him that No, Dex, stay here and enjoy the pool and the quiet. I’ll be back in the afternoon.

Outside, you stir from your sun-baked nap at the gentle padding of footsteps approaching. You already know who it is by the width of the shadow being cast.

“If you jump in and splash me, I’ll kill you,” you grumble, head buried against your forearms.

Dex chuckles. You feel his shadow shift around you, realising he was grabbing the bottle of sunscreen from the ground beside you. You listen blindly as he squirts some out onto his hands, then what you can only assume is him rubbing the coconut-scented cream across his arms and chest. After a moment, you feel him nudge your calf.

“D’you mind giving me a hand?” He asks, almost sheepishly as he turns, showing off the muscled mass of his back.

You look up, then get to your feet with a shallow huff. You take the bottle from him, gather a substantial amount on your palms, before pressing your hands to his back. You have to bite your lip to stop yourself from making a noise, the muscles beneath the skin contracting as your hands move in circles. A vibration shakes through the pads of your fingers, and you realise he’s letting out a contended groan as you work the sunscreen into the tight sinew of his shoulder blades.

“You need a massage, Jesus Christ…” You comment as, without thinking, you press your thumbs into the mound below his shoulders.

He hisses, then chuckles. “You offering?”

You retract your hands, going back to spreading the sunscreen down his spine. “You wish.”

A rumbling chuckle leaves him as your hands shift lower, smoothing the cream along his lower back. Your fingers brush the dimples right above his waistband. Your heart hammers violently in your chest when you take a step back and he turns, flexing his fingers while he takes in your appearance.

“Thanks,” he says around a smile, then steps forward. A couple of his fingers find the thin strap of your swimsuit and he pulls it away from your skin, only to let it go and grin as it hits your shoulder with a snap. “I like this, by the way.”

You want to curl up in a ball, or maybe cover your face with your hands. Instead, you take a breath and meet his gaze, ignoring the weight of your heart against your sternum and the thick heat spreading in your belly.

“My boyfriend bought it for me,” you lie, watching Dex’s eyes flit down your chest then back up.

Something squeezes tight in your chest at the way Dex smiles, the corner of his mouth dragging up into something more vulpine than human. His pupils expand a little beneath the blaring gold sun, and you find yourself taking a small step back—but he matches you. He steps forward, hand finding the strap of your swimsuit again, curling around the elastane and holding it firmly in the crook of his knuckle.

“You don’t have a boyfriend,” Dex states casually, but his tone is dark.

You scoff. “I do.”

“No point in lying, sweetheart,” he says, pulling the strap back and letting it go again. You gasp as it bites into your skin, stinging. “FBI, remember? I know everything about you.”

You swallow thickly. Dex takes a step forward.

“I know you’re top of your class,” he begins, eyes securely on your face. The eye contact is intense, and you find yourself blinking away. “I know your dorm faces east, and I know you and your friends vacationed in the Bahamas this time last year. I know you keep polaroids of your high school prom in a box on your desk—” He steps closer. “—and I know you have a pretty pink vibrator in the drawer of your bedside—”

The weight in your stomach becomes unbearable, so you grab his forearms and push him into the pool. But one strong hand encloses around your wrist as he topples to the side, and you shout out as he pulls you in with him.

The water is bitingly cold on your sun-soaked skin, and when you break the surface, Dex is already there. You scowl at him, sending a large wave of chlorinated water directly into his face. He takes it with a laugh.

“You’re a fucking freak,” you spit.

He laughs again. “Tell me something I don’t already know, sweetheart.”

You turn with a grunt, wading towards the edge of the pool. You get your palms onto the flat edge, ready to hoist yourself out, when the water shifts around you. You suck in a quiet gasp when Dex is suddenly behind you: the mass of his chest pressing to the sunscreen-slick skin of your back, his hands finding the edge of the pool and caging you against the wall.

“Where’re you going?” He asks, voice low.

You spare a glance down to where his forearms box you against the wall. Your eyes trace the veins that run beneath the skin. Your mouth goes dry.

Dex hums at your silence. “S’a matter, baby?”

“Don’t,” you whisper sternly, screwing your eyes shut. Goosebumps ripple along the exposed skin of your arms, water sliding over the curve of your forearms and dripping, each droplet catching like gemstones in the sunlight.

Dex laughs, and suddenly, his chin finds the curve of your shoulder as he hunches over you. His chest presses flush to your back, and you crack your eyes open just as his palms drag across the tiled edge. Strong fingers find yours, running gently over your pinkies, then across the bumps of your knuckles, until his hands are completely engulfing yours. The mass of his arms push up against yours too, and you realise how warm he is, how hot his blood pumps beneath his veins.

Your thighs clench beneath the water.

“Don’t… what?” Dex looks at where your hands press together over your shoulder. He turns his head slightly after a moment, his mouth skimming the thrumming pulse beneath your ear. “You think I don’t see you watching me, huh?”

“Dex,” you hiss.

He groans. It’s a low sound that carries from the back of his throat, and something dips in your belly as you feel it vibrate against the side of your neck.

“Watching me like I can’t fucking see you,” Dex whispers, face dropping until his lips press a chaste kiss to the junction where your neck and shoulder meet. He inclines his hips then, his pelvis flat against the fat of your arse, and you suck in a sharp breath feeling the imprint of him against the cleft. He continues, closer to you than before. “Watching me while I’m with your dad—really, baby? S’not something a good girl like you should be doing…”

His lips find your shoulder again, and this time, you can’t help it: your head falls to the side, baring the shining skin of your neck. You feel Dex grin against you as his mouth drags upwards, a couple of open-mouth kisses trailing the line of your jugular.

A little whine falls from your mouth when his teeth skim your skin and the hands over yours begin to trace up your forearms. You find yourself squeezing your thighs together again, and this time, Dex feels the movement as his pelvis pushes against the curve of your backside.

“Oh, my poor girl,” Dex murmurs, grinding himself against you. You gasp, eyes falling closed as you’re pressed up against the pool wall. His hands shift down your arms, down your ribs, skimming just below the line of your breasts, then trail south over your tummy. He pauses at your navel though, palming the soft flesh. “I’ve been ignoring you, haven’t I? Haven’t been giving you any attention…”

A shallow gasp leaves you. “Dex.”

“Tell me you want me, and I’ll give it to you—right here, sweetheart,” Dex whispers, and he’s more urgent now, as if only just realising his own built-up desire. He’s breathing hard behind you, and the little grunts that fall from his lips with each exhale have you heating up in his hold, the water like ice on your skin.

You open your eyes at his words. “Dex, please—”

The sliding door at the rear of the house shoves open, and it scares you how fast Dex pushes himself away. It’s like he knew it was coming. The heat of his body disappears, the water barely even rippling as he ducks back and puts enough space between you that you wonder if he was really that close to even begin with. Slowly, with his eyes on his phone, your dad walks out, and you take a breath before hoisting yourself out of the pool. You can almost feel Dex’s eyes on your backside as you clamber to your feet, and your dad looks up from his phone as you approach.

“Hi, honey,” he greets you, grabbing a towel from the chair nearby without being asked. He holds it out to you and you take it—you take Dex’s towel—before wrapping it around you and allowing your dad to plant a gentle kiss to the top of your head. His eyes flick up to Dex, then back to you, completely unaware. “Had enough of the pool for the day?”

“Yeah,” you say, casting a look over your shoulder. Dex leans back against the opposite side of the pool, a relaxed smile stretched across his handsome face. You want to roll your eyes.

—✿—

The only light on in your bedroom later that night is a cute little lamp on your bedside table. It casts the room in a honey-like gold, your bare legs flickering beneath shadows as you lounge across your bed, aimlessly scrolling on your phone. You couldn’t sleep, the warmth of summer having crept its way into your room and clung to your very limbs. You’d tossed restlessly, but had given up, throwing your sheets off and snatching your phone from the bedside table in defeat.

There’s a soft knock at your door.

You don’t think you hear it at first. It could have been anything. A creak of a distant floorboard, a tree branch scraping against the slanted roof, a car exhaust firing off somewhere down the street.

Another knock.

You sigh, annoyed, tossing your phone aside and pulling yourself out of bed. The silk of your pyjama shorts is pleasantly cold against the warm skin of your thighs, and you pad towards the door with sweat damp along the dip of your spine.

You open it and freeze, your joints fusing beneath the weight of your shock as you look up into the shadowed eyes of Dex, who peers down at you like he knew you’d open the door for him. Like he knew you’d do anything for him.

“Dex,” you manage to breathe out, looking up and down the hall. It’s pitch black and still, and that somehow scares you even more.

“Hi,” he says simply, one of his hands enclosing around the edge of your doorframe. He’s not wearing a shirt, and it takes every ounce of your self control not to follow the rippling of his bicep and forearm as he holds the doorframe. He cocks his head slightly, eyes falling down your body as if he hasn’t seen you in much less.

“What do you want?” You hiss, trying to sound annoyed, but it comes out whinier than intended. Heat fills your belly when he responds with a small smirk. You attempt a frown. “It’s late. I was asleep.”

“No, you weren’t,” Dex whispers. He reaches his other hand across the space that separates you, his fingers finding the soft, thin material of your shirt. He runs the seam of the collar beneath the pad of his thumb. “You gonna let me in?”

“My parents are asleep down the hall,” you whisper, tongue heavy in your mouth. 

There are butterflies in your stomach now, rabid and fast-moving and fluttering all the way up into your diaphragm. You clear your throat, eyes darting down the hall once more as he continues to fidget with the low-sitting neckline of your shirt.

“S’not what I asked,” he says, and it’s firm in a way that makes you want to draw back.

But you don’t.

You meet his eyes. “You’re my dad’s best friend.”

He doesn’t respond.

“You’re older than me.”

He still doesn’t respond, but the fingers on your shirt’s neckline shift up. The tips of his fingers drag up the front of your throat, and you can’t help but swallow nervously as he wraps his fingers, his palm pressing softly to the front. He doesn’t squeeze, but he holds you, his fingers right at the curve of your jaw so he can angle your head up and lock your attention onto him. You don’t know it, but he can feel your hammering pulse beneath his thumb.

“I am,” Dex whispers, his other hand moving off of the doorframe now. 

It finds your hip, fingers slipping beneath the hem of your shirt and finding the soft skin just above the waistband of your shorts. He takes a careful step forward, and like a puppet at the end of a few very short strings, you let him move you one step back.

“This… we can’t do this,” you mutter, eyes tracing the lines of his face, now alight with gold as he takes another step into the ichored glow of your bedroom. You take another step back, and suddenly, he’s inside, and he can close the door gently with his foot. You swallow thickly. “Dex.”

His hand leaves your hip for just a second to twist the lock on your door. You hear it sink into place, a dull thunk, before his hand is on you again. This time, his thumb dips beneath the waistband and presses to the skin above your hipbone.

“Two things can happen,” Dex begins slowly, taking another step and pushing you back towards your bed. He only stops, his hand still on your throat, when the backs of your knees hit the edge of your bed. “One, you tell me to leave. And I’ll leave, baby, I promise. If you want me gone, I’ll go. Or two—” the hand on your throat gives you a tiny squeeze, “—you let me fuck you. You let me make you feel good.”

You have no doubt in your mind that your eyes have glazed over.

Tentatively, you reach your hands up and smooth them across the firm muscle of his abdomen, then up and over the curve of his pectorals. He groans at your touch, your hands burning hot against his bare torso. He dips then, and you let him slot his mouth to yours like it’s the easiest decision either of you have ever made.

He holds your throat firmly as he kisses you, his tongue quick to bully between the split of your lips. He licks inward, tastes the mint of your toothpaste in the grooves of your teeth and the way it lingers sweet in your saliva. It makes him groan quietly, a thick rumble in his chest, as he presses himself into you. You whimper in response, your fingers taking hold of his strong shoulders as your tongues meet. His lips are soft and warm and everything you imagined when you pressed your little pink vibrator to your clit this past week.

Dex is big as he crowds you. The hand on your throat is wide, and the hand beneath the waistband of your shorts is heavy. His hips jerk, pyjama bottoms thick with his half-hard cock as he rocks himself against your pelvis. Heat pools low in your belly at the breathless sound that leaves him, and you dig your nails into the skin of his shoulders as he deepens the kiss, your teeth knocking together.

A minute later, he’s helping you settle onto the edge of your bed. Mouths attached, swapping mint and spit. You spread your legs with a whimper as his hand slips from your throat, only to reattach at the nape of your neck. As he does that, he begins kissing down your jaw—warm, kiss-bruised lips dragging down the curve, sucking on warm skin, following the path of your fluttering pulse. His other hand hooks your waistband between two fingers and tugs. You lift your hips with a wistful sigh, helping him in pulling the silky material over the curve of your arse. Blindly, Dex flings your shorts away, before pulling back to find you bare against the bunched sheets of your bed.

A slow, cat-like smile spreads across his face. A shadow passes over his features as he dips, the light of your lamp catching a flash of teeth as he sinks to his knees, still grinning.

“No panties, huh?” His eyes flicker up to you for a second, before dragging back down to where you spread your legs for him. You grip the edge of your mattress, mewling his name quietly as his hands settle on the fat of your thighs, kneading as he presses a slow line of kisses from your knee, inwards.

When he gets close enough, Dex places one last kiss to your inner thigh before blowing a puff of air against your slick core. You’re burning hot and wet, and the flush of air makes you keen. You force your moan back down your throat, the silence of the night too loud in your ears as your heart knocks wildly against your sternum.

“Pretty baby,” he whispers, angling his head to press a gentle kiss to the bead of your clit. You suck in a breath, something pulling tight in the base of your tummy. He grumbles like he’s talking to himself, something about the fucking state of you, as he plants another kiss to the heat of your folds. “God, you’re pretty.”

He inhales then, nose pressing tight to your clit before his tongue splits you apart. A moan of his name lodges in your throat as your hips shift forward, pushing deeper, as you hold yourself up with one arm. Your other hand finds his hair, grabbing a fistful of the soft locks as he groans into your pussy, tongue flat and warm and heavy against you.

The sounds of his tongue moving across your core are obscene and embarrassingly wet. It makes your entire body burn up, heat thrumming through your veins as you tremble. Your dad’s best friend is buried between your thighs, his mouth on your pussy, and he’s really, really fucking good.

“Dex,” you whisper, rocking yourself against him. 

The slope of his nose catches against your clit as you grind yourself on him, his tongue spreading you apart before finding your hole. You can feel how wet you are, and if your body wasn’t strung up along the lines of pleasure, you may have cowered beneath your shame. His tongue curls inside you now, and you bite down hard on your lip as a whine rattles against your teeth.

One of his hands shifts from your thigh. It drags up your hip, then over your mound. Calloused and heavy, it rests across your mound, fingers spanning over the soft flesh above your womb too, as his thumb finds your clit. Dex presses hard, and you nearly choke on air as you draw in a startled gasp. You try to close your thighs, but the width of his shoulders keep them apart.

“Dex,” you moan, and the second it leaves your mouth you know it’s too loud.

Dex tuts as he pulls away, nuzzling the soft skin of your inner thigh and sucking the skin between his teeth before he speaks. “Not too loud, baby.”

He says this as his thumb presses deep circles against your puffy clit. And he says it before his mouth is back on you, tongue curling deep inside the tight heat of your cunt. Your head rolls on your shoulders, pressure sitting in the bottom of your tummy as he circles your clit with his thumb. His other fingers push down on your lower belly, right over your womb.

When his tongue shifts out of your cunt, his lips move across your folds as if he were kissing your mouth. Languid, claiming, rhythmic in the way they move. His tongue swipes through you, drawing lines as your heartbeat rises in your blood to meet his movements. A build-up of static follows the pressure in your tummy as he kisses from your clit, back to your hole, a deep grumble leaving his chest as he pushes his tongue back inside you, then out again. He draws shapes—letters, actually, and it’s a particular three over and over again, but you don’t know that—against the swollen pearl of your clit as he brings you towards your release.

You grip his hair tightly, whimpering, “Oh, Dex, Dex, oh my god.”

He hums, eyes watching you closely as your body pulls tight. Pressure builds and builds until you slam your teeth down into your bottom lip to stop yourself from crying out. Your release hits you hard and fast, and your pussy flutters tightly around the thick of Dex’s tongue. You swallow moan after moan, desperate to keep quiet in the golden-hued silence of your bedroom as he licks you through it. His head moves, coaxing you through it, and he only stops when you finally collapse back onto your bed with an almost pained sigh.

Dex kisses your clit once more, twice more, then kisses up your mound, over the curve of your belly. He dips his tongue into your navel, then kisses up over your stomach, then across your sternum as he gets to his feet. His hands caress your sides, surprisingly gentle after he’d practically ripped your orgasm from you and left you boneless tangled in your sheets.

He pulls back with one last kiss to your sternum, where your shirt bunches up beneath your breasts. He takes your wrist then and pulls you back into a sitting position, and he does so with no effort whatsoever despite your quiet groaning protests.

“Tongue,” he says, wet face pressing to your cheek as he nuzzles you.

You do what you’re told: sticking your tongue out, blinking up at him lazily as his head dips. You expect him to spit, but he doesn’t. He simply slides his own tongue against yours, back and forth a few times, before sliding his mouth to yours. It’s wet and messy and you can taste yourself as you come together. He moans into your mouth, and the sound has your heartbeat reigniting in your core. While he kisses you, his hands find the messed-up fabric of your shirt. He grabs it and pulls, shifting his head back just enough to pull it up and over your head and arms. He kisses you as he throws it aside, your breasts spilling out into the warm air of the room.

“Such a good listener,” Dex whispers when he pulls away, planting a kiss to the corner of your mouth. He cups your face in two large hands, cradling you softly. You sit on the edge of your bed, looking up at him with tears in your waterline and drool and slick spread across your lips. He hums, pressing a kiss to your sweat-damp forehead. “Such a good girl.”

You whine, hands shooting forward and finding the drawstring of his pyjama bottoms. You unthread them and hastily push them down, leaving him in just his briefs. He hisses, hand on the nape of your neck once more as you lean forward.

“Easy, easy, baby…” Dex mutters as he kicks his pants away. You whine, eyelids drooping as you press an open-mouthed kiss to the front of his briefs, kissing the thick imprint of his hard cock. You mouth at the tent as he squeezes the back of your neck, and he lets you do this for a few long moments before he pulls you away. “S’enough of that.”

You pout. “Dex.”

“On the bed.”

You listen without another word, but you make sure Dex sees your pouting. He just shakes his head as he watches you clamber backwards onto your bed, head coming to rest against a mound of your pillows. Dex groans when you spread your legs, your hands trailing from your breasts, over your stomach, then down between your thighs. He hooks his thumbs in the waistband of his briefs and tugs them down, just as your fingers find your clit, and you whimper his name as his cock falls free.

He kicks his underwear away as you circle your puffy clit, writhing against the stack of pillows. You’re quiet, but you add an obvious lilt to your voice, “Oh, Dex, fuck—”

“Yeah, yeah, keep it up,” Dex grunts as he crawls onto the bed and settles between your spread legs. He watches you, not touching, as he snatches a pillow from the head of your bed and stuffs it beneath your hips, propping you up. You suddenly feel too exposed, too raw, and your finger drops from your clit as Dex mutters, “Oh, s’a matter, baby? Why’d you stop?”

You frown, heart in your throat. “Dex.”

“Don’t look at me like that. I’ll give you what you want,” Dex says, low and dark. 

It makes that knot in your belly tighten. He shuffles forward a little more then, gripping the base of his cock. It’s heavy in his hand, hanging forward under the weight, the head flushed a bruising red, slit wet with pre-cum as he clutches the base tight between his fingers. You can’t help but stare, eyes tracing the line of hair from his navel to the thatch at the base of his cock. You fist the sheets as his free hand spreads your thighs even further apart. With a subtle dip in his brow, he takes his cock and slaps the wet tip against your clit.

You keen. “Fuck.”

Dex’s hand drags over his shaft, and he hisses when he can press the tip of his thumb to the underside of the head. He holds himself there, breathing coming in shallow pants, as he drags himself through your folds, eyes transfixed on where slick webs between your folds as he splits them apart. His other hand continues to knead the fat of your thigh, flesh dimpling in his hold.

“You’re gonna ask me nicely,” he says quietly, eyes still on your pussy. He circles the head around your hole, where you flutter and drool for him, before he’s dragging it back up to nudge the base of your clit. His eyes flicker upwards when a tiny moan slips out between your lips. “Please, baby. Ask me nicely.”

You sigh, body shaking as he ruts the warm head of his cock through your folds. Tension tugs at the base of your womb, sweat wet along the line of your spine.

“Please, Dex,” you whisper. You almost don’t recognise your own voice.

“Please what?” Dex is panting like a dog, sweat beading high on his forehead as he notches the tip of his cock at your entrance—just enough to feel you clench around nothing, rim slick and warm against him. He bites off a groan as his balls twitch. “Oh, fuck, please, sweetheart, come on.”

You moan softly. “Please fuck me. Please put your—”

The first three words were enough of a trigger for him. Your dad’s best friend groans too loud above you as your cunt swallows the head of his cock. You’re tight and slick and everything he had imagined when he’d fucked his fist in the shower, and he can’t go back. He can’t stop now.

With another groan, quieter than the first, Dex pushes in. He pants the entire time, grunting out something that sounds like your name as he feeds the thick of his cock into you, pussy clenching tight around him. You sigh out, little whines and whimpers falling across his blushing ears, making something tick over in his brain.

“That’s it, that’s it, oh my god,” Dex mumbles as he enters you. 

He’s thick like the rest of him—cock spreading you apart as your thighs quiver. You arch your back, hips propped up by the pillow, as he slides in slowly. Your cunt opens up for him, and you feel each little ridge, each vein as he pushes deeper and deeper. It knocks the breath from you as he stretches you apart in the golden lamplight of your room. Your hands shoot up to find his shoulders as he leans over you now, hips meeting yours when he finally bottoms out. A thick groan falls out of his mouth, his jaw working as his balls settle against the curve of your backside. You’re so full, and you both release a shaky breath in unison as the air around you settles.

“Dex,” you whisper, drawing spirals against the skin of his shoulders. “You’re so big.”

“I know, I know, m’sorry,” he whispers, eyes shut. He speaks after a few seconds of desperate panting, his eyes opening to scan your face. “But you’re taking me so well, aren’t you?”

“Yeah,” you reply, and you lift your head slightly.

He gets the message. Dipping, his mouth finds yours, and it’s his turn to moan into it as your tongues slide against one another. You feel his cock give a subtle jerk inside you, and you pull away to whine, head rolling against your pillows.

“Here we go,” Dex says, more to himself than to you, as he pitches his hips back and pulls his cock from you until just the tip rests inside.

He moves forward, shoving back in, and if it was even possible, his pupils blow wider. He chokes on a moan of your name as he settles into a rhythm, the wet clutch of your pussy sucking him in with embarrassingly loud patterns of plap, plap, plap—

“Dex,” you gasp, the head of his cock reaching so deep already, the angle of your hips pulling him towards the base of your cervix.

Dex groans, “My pretty baby, my sweet baby.”

You moan in response, heat pooling like molasses in the pit of your tummy. Your entire body is thrumming with pleasure as his cock splits you apart, nudging your g-spot every single time. Pin-point accuracy, it almost makes you scream. But you bite it down, settling for a pathetic little whimper of “Dex, baby, holy shit,” as he sets one hand on your waist, the other holding him up, as he fucks you into the mattress.

Your bed creaks just loud enough to make you worry, mattress groaning as he ruts into you. Your headboard, thankfully, is far enough from the wall that it misses the paint with each thrust of Dex over you. But either way, your noises are becoming harder and harder to trap in your throat, and you find yourself biting your lip so hard you split the skin as Dex’s cock leads you towards your next orgasm.

“This is what you wanted, isn’t it?” Dex asks, hair messy and sticking to his forehead. His hips shift over and over, body hulking over yours. His cock reaches up towards the plug of your womb, a tight knot of pleasure building there as pressure builds in the base of your spine. Dex’s lip curls, almost in a snarl, as he rolls his hips, pitching his cock so deep it physically punches a moan from your chest. He grunts, “Come on, baby, fuck.”

Your body is on fire. Your room is too hot. You have never felt like this before.

“Yes, Dex,” you whimper, trying to keep your eyes open as the heat slowly becomes unbearable. Your heart is hammering against your ribs, the tension in your belly and spine eating away at you, forcing your limbs to tighten up. “Uh—ah, Dex, please, baby, please.”

“Tightest little pussy,” Dex whispers, then a little louder, “Pretty baby letting me fuck her raw, huh? Want my cum that bad?”

Your legs tighten around him, your fingers on his shoulder pressing bright red crescents as you hold him, teetering too close to the edge of release. It’s giving you vertigo. You’re dizzy with it as pleasure seeps into the marrow of your bones, the tension in your belly growing and growing, pushing right up against your womb as he fucks you into your mattress.

“Dex,” you gasp out, his cock twitching inside you as it slides right up beside your cervix. “Dex, m’gonna—oh my god, m’gonna—”

“I know, I know, sweet girl, I can feel you,” Dex moans, and this one echoes in your room. But you’re both too far gone to care now. Dex’s thrusts pick up, deep and rolling, as the hair at the base of his cock rubs against your swollen clit. He groans as you clench around him, fluttering like you don’t want to let him go. “Let me have it, baby. C’mon, you can do it, let me feel it.”

The tension inside you reaches breaking point, and it snaps so violently you see stars above you. Gold flashes, glints of ivory, as you moan and topple into your orgasm. You bite most of it back, but it’s loud enough for him—loud enough to make him smile like he owns it as you come around his cock. Your pussy squeezes tight, milking around the thick of him as your entire body shakes, thighs trembling where they lazily bracket his hips. Your back arches off the bed, arms shaking as you grip onto him, claws embedded in his skin as you whimper his name over and over again.

You’ll draw blood, and the thought has Dex’s balls drawing up tight as his cock gives another jerk inside you, the walls of your cunt wet and warm and so fucking tight.

“M’coming,” he whispers just as you fizzle down from your own high. He’s grunting and groaning, and your name is a prayer on his lips. “Take it all, pretty baby. M’gonna—”

He collapses onto you as he comes, hips jerking as he buries his face into your neck and moans, trapping the sound against your soft, dewy skin. His cock twitches deep against the plug of your womb as he comes in hot spurts, and you feel it fill you—hot and sticky and claiming in your belly. You whine as it happens, and he mimics the sound right back, grinding his hips as he empties himself with a few last pathetic twitches. The heat in his body washes out of his system as he takes a deep breath, committing your smell to memory, his cock softening slowly inside of you.

But he has no plans of pulling out just yet.

“You okay, sweetheart?” He whispers tenderly, pressing a kiss to your cheek.

You hum, trapped beneath him. “Mhm.”

He kisses your cheek again. “You did such a good job.”

You hum again.

Dex kisses you again. “And m’so proud of you.”

That makes you clench around him, and he chuckles, hand finding your throat again so he can angle your head to the side and slot his mouth to yours. The kiss is lazy and uncoordinated, but you can’t help but whine into it. You smile to yourself when you take his bottom lip and nip it lightly.

“Sorry,” you whisper, not sorry at all.

Dex pulls away with something flashing in his eyes. “Give me five minutes and I’ll give that mouth something to do.”

Your heart jumps in your chest and you kiss again.

———

hey siri how to be a coin

tags 🌿

@breakspearz @targlocket @onlyvalentine @pinkdoeweirdo @goldenhoneyedwine @padmespetal @beentainted

[starxs-s]

AAAAAAAA it was so good omggg. I LIVE for your smuts.

[httpsvalarr]

valarr is the type of guy that has a picture of you in his wallet. he'll proudly show it off to anyone that asks about you. doesn't matter if it's at an event you couldn't make it to or some old acquaintance he runs into at the store asking if he has a girlfriend, he'll gladly tell them ‘yes, i have a girlfriend!’ and pull out the picture in his wallet to show you off. it's the cutest thing ever.

[starxs-s]

my darling peter prior so underappreciated. would you ever write for him? i'd love to dress up as a cop on halloween and cuff him with fuzzy cuffs and have my way with him. fawkk he is so submissive in true detective. thank you for your writings! ilyyy

──── Peter Prior┆Fuzzy Handcuffs author’s note: Not exactly ‘Priors Family’ but I think it’ll do too <3 This work contains: pure smut, riding, dress up, p in v, sub!Peter, handcuffs, bondage, unprotected sex Peter Prior x girlfriend!reader mdni

Peter was tired. But it was nothing new — he was constantly tired nowadays. Constantly tired, overworked, cold and annoyed. Annoyed by Liz and by his work and by the fact that the only thing he wanted to do he wasn't able to. He wanted to spend an entire day with you — uninterrupted. So that you can lay in bed tangled together, warm and without care in the world.

While pulling into the driveway he had only one thing in his mind — to pull off his uniform and slip straight under the covers of your bed. He took his time in his car. Sitting in it in silence for a second, trying to calm his frustration so he wouldn’t get into the house angry before finally scrambling out of the car and pulling out his house keys.

The house is dark when he walks into it, the only sound present is the buzzing of the fridge and quite scraping of nails against the couch — probably your cat lounging on it before he would decide to have a late night snack. He kicked off his shoes quietly, placing them clumsily by the doors as he tried to not make a noise and disturb the silence.

His jacket goes off and Peter momentarily flinches as the soft something walks head first into his leg and rubs itself into his trousers — a quiet meowing is enough to calm his racing heart.

Fucking police officer getting scared by his own cat, fucking wonderful Peter, great job.

He thought to himself while brushing his hair back gently — his eyes felt dry from hours of sitting by the laptop and scrolling through the reports, printing out documents and trying not to roll them at the comments coming from his dad’s desk. What was more than hard for him, not saying nothing about people who worked with Hank long before Peter came to the station with a badge of his own.

He wondered how your day was, now probably was too late to talk about it anyway as you were probably long asleep in your shared bed, wrapped up in blankets and pillows to fight off the cold that was sipping through the cracks of the windows.

Peter meant to fix them a week ago but among all that mess he had to go through at work he kinda… well… forgot.

He flickered the lights on before freezing before even fully stepping into the bathroom — not because of his cat bumping into his leg again, not because of the squeaks of the house settling that sometimes made him uneasy after watching something scary and stupid.

There was blood, a whole pool of the crimson liquid splashed on the cold tiles, smudged over the bath and cabinets — long smeared as if someone was struggling or putting up a fight while actively bleeding out. Peter saw scenes like that, on the training back in the police school or even sometimes when he got called after another tourist got attacked by a polar bear.

Yet never would he expect a sight like that to appear in his own house.

Peter’s own blood went cold, any color draining from his face before his eyes widened and breath hitched. He suddenly felt like he couldn’t breathe, couldn’t move as various scenarios ran through and through into his head like a never ending train.

Only tough grabbing against his waist made him come back from spiraling — hands over the fabric of his black turtleneck, cold and so so familiar. 

“Officer Prior hands in the air! You are detained on suspicion of murder” you said from behind him and Peter’s eyebrow lifted before both of them scrunched in a frown. 

“Babe– what?” he inhaled trying to turn around and finally face you.

“Hands in the air where I can see them” you said only before he felt you letting go of him and setting back “Turn around slowly.”

Despite the ridiculousness of the situation Peter only rolled his eyes gently. And then he turned — slowly – so slowly as if it was a real situation and you were a real cop and it was not just one big joke you decided to play on him in the middle of the night. 

And then he stopped and his eyes widened before his lips parted slightly in shock. 

There you are — in the navy blue uniform, fake badge pinned right next to your way too unbuttoned neckline, short sleeve showing almost your whole arms, fabric of the short, yes shorts skin tight and the black belt holding a pair of the pretty, pink handcuffs wrapped around your waist where he’s been so keen on stealing touches. His cheeks warmed up at the sight but the stupid booking hat on your head making it a little bit unserious on top of that. 

“I— I don’t reckon today being my birthday.” he chuckled quietly with his hands still in the air. 

“Cuz it’s not, baby” you said and smiled — and the way you did it with adding ‘baby’ at the end just made something inside him warm up “Happy Halloween, Peter” you added quietly.

And that was the moment Peter stopped dead in his tracks and his smile slowly disappeared from his face as the feeling of dread suddenly dropped on him. 

Halloween?

Halloween.              

Ain’t no way it was today right? He’d remember if it was today — actually back home earlier and watch some spooky movie with you, occasionally getting up if someone would knock on your doors for candy. 

“...You forgot didn’t you?” you asked, raising your eyebrow gently — your tone not disappointed thankfully but not pleased either. 

“No baby, fuck I swear—” he tried to find an excuse or somehow get himself out of that situation. “Yeah… okay I did… I’m sorry” he said and dropped his gaze to the floor, making himself unintentionally look like a scolded hamster. 

You sighed quietly, not wanting him to feel bad but still feeling bitter at the situation you were in. You got that he was trying to prove himself and earn that special place or whatever it was he was going for but sometimes… you just wanted your boyfriend to actually be with you. And he couldn’t exactly blame you for that. 

“Oh now you got the right to remain silent” you said and shook your head as a playful smirk somehow made it back on your face. “Anything you say might be used against you.” you added and looked up at him and his gentle frown. 

“No, baby, I’m serious—” 

“Caught red handed at the crime scene?” you clicked your tongue and shook your head. “With a service gun still attached to your… belt? Not looking good for you, Officer Prior.” you tried to sound as professional yet playful as you could manage — yet you were far from being a cop and it seemed like your fumbling managed to bring back the small, shy smile on his face. 

He knew you were trying to make him feel better after the fuck up, despite it all.

“It’s been like that when I got here, officer!” he said and lifted his hands slightly higher.

“...that is like the worst excuse I’ve ever heard in the whole history of television.” you said and shook your head with disbelieving eyes. 

‘You are breaking the character—” Peter gasped before clicking his tongue and rolling his eyes playfully.

The mood definitely shifted — the surprised-sorry part shifted and you could hear in his voice how his mind shifted and finally got into ‘finally being home’ mode. The carefree, playful and slightly bratty version of your boyfriend was back — the only complaint of yours were the dark circles under his eyes… but you knew that after tonight they won’t get much better anyway. 

“Okay, okay–” your sign was filled with an attitude that made people crack even a wilder smile. “You are under arrest, officer Prior.” you repeated before a smirk bloomed on your face. “I will now question you, on your whereabouts” you said dramatically before leaning in to finally press a kiss to his lips. 

They were still slightly cold from when he was outside although it didn’t take long for them to warm up after connecting with yours. He finally let his hands fall down — one hand moving to slide his fingers into the belt loop of your shorts and pull you closer before another cupped your cheek gently. You shivered from the coolness of his fingers against your skin — your own hands on his chest, already undoing his tie and letting it fall on the tiles, if it falls into the fake blood pool… well you will just have to do an unplanned laundry. 

“Not the ‘questioning’ I’m familiar with.” he murmured after you finally parted away. “But I’m not complaining though.” he added before you shook your head gently. 

You bit your lip gently, trying to stop a smile that was creeping onto your face again before your hands gripped the collar of his uniform and pulled him back into the kiss, at the same time, blindly guiding him out of the bathroom and into your bedroom. 

The doors were kicked open as Peter deepened the kiss — his tongue licking over your lower lip and asking for an entrance. Because Peter loved to kiss you — to steal pecks, to press quick kisses when he was leaving for work and he was already running late, to make out on the couch with some random show playing in the background, when you got to do something together in the kitchen and the small kisses on the neck or shoulders ended up being more than should be performed on the kitchen counter. 

Peter’s breath hitched the moment his back hit the bed — his head on the pillows, his body finally melting into the mattress after a long day. And then tensing again at the sight and the feeling of you on top of him. This cop costume looked hotter on your than it should’ve — now messy from his hands wandering all over on your way here, your hat now lost somewhere on the floor and your cheeks rosy in the light of the Christmas lights you lit up before scaring him in the bathroom. 

“Fuck–” he breathed letting his head fall back down on the pillow as you reached to the buttons of your shirt, undoing it one by one, slowly as with an almost devilish smirk on your face that suddenly made him uncomfortable in his pants. 

Peter watched silently — first came off your shirt, showing off the black, lacy bra you had to get in secret and then hide it somewhere deep in the closet where he wouldn’t even look. Then his chest raised at the sight of you unclasping the handcuffs from your bet and tossing them nearby. 

Fuzzy, pink handcuffs — stupid looking compared to what he used daily yet still somehow making him so flustered and hot all over at the thought of what you had planned. 

“Jesus Christ, baby.” he swallowed and had to fight himself to keep his hands away the moment you pulled off the shorts too and tossed them at the floor by your bed, the fabric landing with a soft thud — one that sounded strangely similar to Peter’s speeding heart. 

“See something you like?” you chuckled quietly before moving to finally sit comfortably on his hips. 

Heat raised to your cheeks as you felt his hardness pressing gently against your core — demanding attention even if fully clothed and barely seeable in the dim light. Yet you felt it and it only made your cunt throb and shiver run down your spine. 

“You have no idea.” Peter sounded breathless. Why was he breathless? He saw you like that hundreds of times — on top of him, blushing, sometimes in a pretty lingerie he didn’t know you bought. 

Yet it felt different now, better somehow despite the very familiar surroundings. It was the same room, same bed and even sheets still smelled like the laundry detergent and a little bit like your body wash. 

Was it the surprise? The fact that you’ve done something so ridiculous yet so hot as buying a sexy cop costume and dressing up for him? He couldn’t tell, yet he wasn’t complaining about anything but the ache in his boxers. 

You moved, grabbing the handcuffs again before somehow putting them between the metal posts of your headboard. “Your hand, officer.” you said, hovering over him with a smirk and Peter looked at you with pupils so dilated as if you hung the stars on the sky. 

You heard him swallow the moment the handcuffs closed around both of his wrists – tight enough for him to not slide, able to slide out from the grasp but loose enough to not actually do any harm. You were careful because it’s not like you’ve ever done this kind of thing before, but it’s not like you’re gonna google ‘how to put my boyfriend in handcuffs’ either. So careful with them it was.

Peter’s hips bunched up as if in a pleading and you could only gasp quietly as he rubbed himself against you through the fabric of his pants. 

“Baby please—” he mumbled, looking up at you with pink cheeks and pleading gaze. “Please, I’m dying here.” he added and inhaled — his chest lifting and falling rapidly under the fabric of his shirt. 

You moved again – your fingers rushing to the buttons of his shirt as you lips pressed kisses down his collarbone and his chest with each button that came undone. You felt his muscles go rigid under your lips and he only closed his eyes and pressed his lips in a tight line as if to not let out any sound. 

Peter could feel your smirk against skin each time you pressed a kiss and went lower. The cocky smile that drove him crazy with love and desire and now made him want you more than anything. 

You felt yourself get wetter against the fabric of your panties when your fingers finally pulled at his belt – letting his shirt on, just open so you could see how deeply he was breathing. The metal clink of the clasp seemed to echo in the room before Peter lifted his hips to help you pull it out of the loops and you only grew more desperate while trying to tug his uniform pants off. 

“I actually hate those uniforms of yours.” you grumbled quietly and shook your head after the fabric finally joined the previous ones on the floor. 

“...last week you said it makes me look hot.” you said and bucked his hips again when your hand tugged at his boxers. 

“It does… but taking it off is a pain in my ass.” you said and huffed quietly but a small smile bloomed on your face anyway at the thought that he actually remembered it. “Not worth it at all.” you added. 

Peter opened his mouth to argue, yet only a surprised whine left his mouth after our hand wrapped around him. You felt him twitching in your hand — his cock already leaking precum from his pink tip, desperate for attention and needy for your touch. Your hand worked slowly, stroking him up and down and helping yourself with the white liquid to make it smoother. His hips twitched again as your skin made contact with his sensitive tip — teasing it as if to taunt him when his hands itched to touch you. 

“Fucking— baby, please?” he inhaled shaking. “Please just— just ride me please.” he looked up at you as the lights illuminated in his blue eyes. 

“...You’re so annoyingly pretty like that y’know?” you huffed quietly before crawling up the bed to press your lips back to his. 

The kiss was passionate — way more messy than before, way more desperate as if neither of your bodies could withstand the tension that built up between you and seemed to snap at any moment. With one hand you carefully pulled our panties to the side — your fingers grazing accidentally over your wet cunt that only made you moan into his lips before finally positioning yourself above him and sinking down on it. 

You both whined into each other's lips as his cock finally slid into your heat all the way in. You pulled away — your forehead resting on his as you both breathed out curses and gasped quietly with closed eyes.  

You straightened up reluctantly — shaky hands on his chest as you tried to steady yourself on top of him and regain your focus. You could hear your heart beating wildly in your chest, probably mirroring Peter’s as heat raised to your cheeks. 

You started slowly. Rocking your hips against his — forward and back in a steady rhythm and the sensation made your toes curl up and your eyebrows scrunch up in a frown of pleasure. 

“I missed you so much—” he breathed bucking his hips to draw up into you to only heighten the sensation. “So much I was thinking everyday about you” you breathed and let his head fal back down against the pillow. 

He groaned quietly, feeling you clench at his words — gaze already hazy as if his eyes were behind a cloud as he looked at you. 

“Everyday? Pervert.” you let out a breathy chuckle before looking down at him. 

“Pervert? That’s—” he grunted again before shaking his head. “You’re being annoying on purpose.” he said but you felt him throb inside you with each drag. 

“And what else? You jerked off thinking about me?” you asked before you hand lifted off his chest to undo the clasp of your bra and let it slide down your arms.

“No!?” he said and inhaled deeply at the sight of your hand nipples before swallowing down. “Okay— maybe once? Twice. Okay twice, yeah.” 

You could only laugh quietly before your moves quickened enough to tilt your head back as you pushed your hips upwards to chase the pleasure. And it coiled in your lower belly, the innocent tingling between your legs as you sped up — the first sign of the wave to come, one that got you so excited already. 

You were rocking your hips, lifting yourself slightly to sink back on him as your hair sticks to your forehead and back. Another whimper left your lips as your hand pressed back against his chest to steady yourself without losing the pace. You could feel how rapidly his heart was beating, could feel every breath he took under your fingertips as his own pressed to your skin, helping you move above him. 

Peter’s hair was a mess — all messed up and tangled from where your hands were while you kissed him and from when he tilted his head against the pillow. His cheeks rosy and pupils wide as he tried his best to match the rhyme despite the desperation for release. 

You could feel his coil in your guts, every time his cock hit this one right spot – the one that almost made you see stars or tears to prickle in your eyes. “Peter–” you mumbled looking down at him with need blooming in your eyes.  

“I know, baby, I know.” he nodded and swallowed again, biting down at his bottom lip and for a moment you were sure he would draw blood. “Touch yourself for me—” he inhaled and you were sure that if not the bounded wrists he’d have his hands all over you. 

You swallowed down before your hand sneaked between your legs — fingers pressing to your throbbing clit and making you moan quietly as you focused on not losing the rhythm. The gesture – so simple and almost forgettable was the thing that made you fall apart around him. You clenched on him, tightly, desperately, circling the pearl with your fingertips just to feel the pleasure coil itself tighter in your belly. 

“Fuck, that’s so hot.” Peter mumbled before wetting his lips as his hands pulled slightly against the pink handcuffs as if needy to be freed and touched whenever they wanted. “Keep doing that for me—”

“Jesus, fuck, Peter—” you inhaled closing your eyes as they watered before gasping as your fet him finally match the quickened pace and thrust up into you. 

“I know–... I know–” he nodded and looked up at you. “I’m close too, baby, I know.” 

You could feel him twitch inside you, his cock needy for release after so much stimulation. You pulled your hand away — you felt like you needed your whole will for that — before leaning down to press his lips to his again. Needy, sloppy and on the bring of falling of the age right into the wave of pleasure. 

But instead it crashed into you — suddenly — making your groan into his lips and squeezing your fingers at the sheets as your hips twitched to prolong the feeling somehow. Peter followed right behind — spilling deep inside you in a messy spurt that made him tilt his head back with hissy gasps and eyes squeezed shut. 

You rested your head against his collarbone, breathing deeply to calm down, to come down your high as your heart thrummed loudly — his cock still twitching inside you in aftershocks as you refused to immediately get off of him. 

“You… you know where the keys to those are?” he asked and weakly tried to lift his hands. 

Your blood suddenly ran cold at the memory of throwing the packaging of the handcuffs away “Fuck—”

Thank you for reading I hope you enjoyed it! Subby Peter forever my favorite. I don't consent to copying my work or translating it, don't upload it to an other platforms. DO NOT TURN THIS INTO AN AI BOT - like it happened with my Shawn Heard fic, to the person that did that is so disrespectful of you to feel entitled enough to steal someone's work and turn into into an AI bot. Without any consent or even doing so little as to give credit. To any that might have similar idea - I do not consent to any form of copying, do NOT steal my work.

taglist: @ethel-angel @ghostlybfgf @userhotd @nanascharms @trixxxel @umadirectioner @user456754 @koolblackberry @yolosis @daisyyoonie @koolblackberry @qardasngan @elisabethturner1919 @sczlxdy @itspbjellytime @morriganstark @aerangi

© starxs-s. est, 2026

[ghostlybfgf]

i’m actually so obsessed with your work. BABEEEE this was so good help me!! such a cute little idea too, peter is so whiney and adorable i loved every second of this 🤭💗

[starxs-s]

Thank you babeee, I’m literally blushingggg

[userhotd]

actually writing a shauna x scott! reader

[ghostlybfgf]

Pleasee girl i need more Kat Taylor x reader!! (Even without bobby) . Also new to tumblr so im not sure how specific do i have to be when i request sorry.

DATING KAT TAYLOR

pairing: kat taylor x reader

warning(s): none, just fluff and kat being our diva, smuttiness, established relationship

a/n: your wish is my command bby!! this can be read as both fem and gn!reader for the most part, probably besides nsfw😘 also la devotee part 2 is coming so stay tuned :))

The thing is with kat, she knows what she wants. She knows she doesn’t want to be working a dead end job forever, she always has a stack of books in her back, and she wants you. And she shows it.

Whether it’s holding hands, pressing kisses over your face, tracing the moles and blemishes on your skin. Everything. Bumping shoulders, linking pinkies, resting her head on your shoulder.

She collects things for you constantly and gifts to them. They’re not always expensive things, in fact. most of the time they’re just little treasures. Keychains, pressed flowers, pretty rocks, stickers, bracelets, old photographs, anything that reminded her of you. And she just grins proudly, walking away with a shrug, trying to act casual about it when really, she’s been carrying it for weeks waiting cor the right moment.

“Oh, this? Not sure.. I saw it and thought of you.”

With her, closeness is a big thing, but it doesn’t have to come with anything. Like sitting shoulder to shoulder with you, without talking, but just existing together. Or randomly braiding and messing with your hair while you’re focused on something else. It’s both something that calms her and that she appreciates because it’s those quiet moments with you she treasures most.

There are times when your closet is full, and then it’s empty, and that is entirely because of Kat. She absolutely steals hoodies and jackets, a belt or a necklace here or there, just the small things. But don’t worry, she gives them back, or you know.. replaces them with her own.

She puts you before herself. Kat does that with most people, always looking out, always studying, but with you it’s different, it’s not because she has to, it’s because she wants to. She genuinely worries, and picks up on just about everything. When you’re calm, when you’re not.. and she is the best when it comes to grounding.

She distracts you by talking about the most random topics imaginable until you’re laughing, or points out something random just to make things feel okay again. Or even just short reminds with a hand soothing at your back.

“Hey.. deep breath hm.” And her hand just places at the middle of your back. Sometimes she stays for a moment, the times when it’s worse, other times she just walks past, her touch lingering just enough.

She has stolen Bobby’s camera a few times to sneak candids of you. Actually, she does it constantly, to the point where he’s about ready to lose his mind. Sometimes it’s photos, sometimes it’s videos, but her own favourite are polaroids. The genuine, random moments are the ones she likes to take the most. You sitting at the breakfast table in the morning, mouthful of toast, or the one of you sat on the step of the apartment in the late evening. She protects them in her wallet, and pockets, and hangs them in the apartment, noting the date and the title on the back in messy marker.

She pretends not to be sentimental, but keeps every note, and gift or trinket you’ve ever given her. And to continue this, she remembers everything. And holds onto it. In her eyes, your dreams are hers too, whether they’re the ones you think are dumb or a shot in the dark, or the ones you really work for she believes in them with you, and for you.

You are her person, and she defends that always. If she finds a place with a cool view, you’re the first person she wants to show, calling you over just to show you something she found interesting, like a cool bug, weird graffiti, and if you’re in need, she’s there. Without fuss, sometimes without a question, once you’re in her orbit, she’s got that safe in her hands.

Jealousy doesn’t come easily with her, at least not on the outside. She won’t deny when other people make moves it burns her a little, but it’s you she has her eye on. She trusts you, she knows you, and it more distrust of others than the other way around. Kat is switched on, and as soon as it gets too uncomfortable, or sees you falter even a little, she’s stepping in, just coolly, tugging on your arm a little.

“Want to step outside baby?” And she gives that pleading look, the one small twinkle in her eyes that you’re not quite sure if she’s going to snap, or whisper at you for you both to get out of there. But it’s soft, not accusing or rude, even if she death stares the person behind your back..

Now she isn’t one to brag, but she talks about you constantly.. to the point where others probably find it a bit annoying. But she could care less, it’s not obsessive or meant to be that way, it’s just the small things, a little name drop here and there, even just a short circuit passing by something she knows you’ll like. Because she listens.. even if she isn’t when Clark is rambling on and she’s nose deep in her book thinking of being with you when she’s off the clock again.

Just like before, things like arguments don’t come frequently with Kat, and when they do? They don’t last long. She doesn’t stew on the bad things, she likes to work it out, to communicate and hear you out as much as she gets her own point across. No one is walking away, not until you’ve hugged it out and so she can kiss you again and hold you in her arms. Because that’s it for her. The thought of losing you, let alone over an argument big or small, isn’t something she’s going to take willingly.

nsfw

Kat is giver through and through. There’s no part of you that she doesn’t love and won’t appreciate. Titties, curves, pussy, thighs you name it, you haven’t even got to ask, her first instinct is to have her hands all over you. And she takes her time. Kissing every inch of you, touching all over each other, before either of you even come to climax, because it’s the foreplay that matters. The appreciation and the affection most..

She is a self admitted switch. But her ideal doesn’t change, it’s giving you everything and therefore giving it to one another. She likes to be in somewhat in control, taking the lead, ordering you around through gentle whispers and tugging fingers, while also being taken care of.. Slowly laying back, letting you set the pace, where you want her..

“You look so beautiful like this..” And that could be any time, every time.. purring in your ear when she’s on top, or reaching up at you while you straddle her. “Mhm.. you do.” And her mouth is on you, your lips, your skin, your neck, everywhere she can possibly reach.

There isn’t anything too kinky with her, but she is willing to try a lot of things, especially if you are comfortable. it’s more experimentation and exploration with her, and anything that brings you both closer, learning each others bodies and likes. To Kat, that is what is sexy and a turn on more than anything else.

That and maybe stealing some of Bobby’s pot for a joke and getting up to more than you both bargained for.. high sex high sex high sex..

To continue before, the things that are a hard no for you, or that you wouldn’t do, they are the same her. Your relationship is built on trust, and respect and there is never a time when that’s going to stop being that way. But showing that you’re hers as much as she is yours? She’s done for in the best way..

[starxs-s]

I did NOT see that coming but um not complaining by any means. This was so good and the L.A DEVOTEE part 2 announcement? I’m in heaven jj 💋💋

[brainstreams]

[starxs-s]

i’ll come out of my anon and i’ll personally fight anyone who pressures you to upload ✨

Us fr, sweet anon 🫶🫶

[starxs-s]

my darling peter prior so underappreciated. would you ever write for him? i'd love to dress up as a cop on halloween and cuff him with fuzzy cuffs and have my way with him. fawkk he is so submissive in true detective. thank you for your writings! ilyyy

──── Peter Prior┆Fuzzy Handcuffs author’s note: Not exactly ‘Priors Family’ but I think it’ll do too <3 This work contains: pure smut, riding, dress up, p in v, sub!Peter, handcuffs, bondage, unprotected sex Peter Prior x girlfriend!reader mdni

Peter was tired. But it was nothing new — he was constantly tired nowadays. Constantly tired, overworked, cold and annoyed. Annoyed by Liz and by his work and by the fact that the only thing he wanted to do he wasn't able to. He wanted to spend an entire day with you — uninterrupted. So that you can lay in bed tangled together, warm and without care in the world.

While pulling into the driveway he had only one thing in his mind — to pull off his uniform and slip straight under the covers of your bed. He took his time in his car. Sitting in it in silence for a second, trying to calm his frustration so he wouldn’t get into the house angry before finally scrambling out of the car and pulling out his house keys.

The house is dark when he walks into it, the only sound present is the buzzing of the fridge and quite scraping of nails against the couch — probably your cat lounging on it before he would decide to have a late night snack. He kicked off his shoes quietly, placing them clumsily by the doors as he tried to not make a noise and disturb the silence.

His jacket goes off and Peter momentarily flinches as the soft something walks head first into his leg and rubs itself into his trousers — a quiet meowing is enough to calm his racing heart.

Fucking police officer getting scared by his own cat, fucking wonderful Peter, great job.

He thought to himself while brushing his hair back gently — his eyes felt dry from hours of sitting by the laptop and scrolling through the reports, printing out documents and trying not to roll them at the comments coming from his dad’s desk. What was more than hard for him, not saying nothing about people who worked with Hank long before Peter came to the station with a badge of his own.

He wondered how your day was, now probably was too late to talk about it anyway as you were probably long asleep in your shared bed, wrapped up in blankets and pillows to fight off the cold that was sipping through the cracks of the windows.

Peter meant to fix them a week ago but among all that mess he had to go through at work he kinda… well… forgot.

He flickered the lights on before freezing before even fully stepping into the bathroom — not because of his cat bumping into his leg again, not because of the squeaks of the house settling that sometimes made him uneasy after watching something scary and stupid.

There was blood, a whole pool of the crimson liquid splashed on the cold tiles, smudged over the bath and cabinets — long smeared as if someone was struggling or putting up a fight while actively bleeding out. Peter saw scenes like that, on the training back in the police school or even sometimes when he got called after another tourist got attacked by a polar bear.

Yet never would he expect a sight like that to appear in his own house.

Peter’s own blood went cold, any color draining from his face before his eyes widened and breath hitched. He suddenly felt like he couldn’t breathe, couldn’t move as various scenarios ran through and through into his head like a never ending train.

Only tough grabbing against his waist made him come back from spiraling — hands over the fabric of his black turtleneck, cold and so so familiar. 

“Officer Prior hands in the air! You are detained on suspicion of murder” you said from behind him and Peter’s eyebrow lifted before both of them scrunched in a frown. 

“Babe– what?” he inhaled trying to turn around and finally face you.

“Hands in the air where I can see them” you said only before he felt you letting go of him and setting back “Turn around slowly.”

Despite the ridiculousness of the situation Peter only rolled his eyes gently. And then he turned — slowly – so slowly as if it was a real situation and you were a real cop and it was not just one big joke you decided to play on him in the middle of the night. 

And then he stopped and his eyes widened before his lips parted slightly in shock. 

There you are — in the navy blue uniform, fake badge pinned right next to your way too unbuttoned neckline, short sleeve showing almost your whole arms, fabric of the short, yes shorts skin tight and the black belt holding a pair of the pretty, pink handcuffs wrapped around your waist where he’s been so keen on stealing touches. His cheeks warmed up at the sight but the stupid booking hat on your head making it a little bit unserious on top of that. 

“I— I don’t reckon today being my birthday.” he chuckled quietly with his hands still in the air. 

“Cuz it’s not, baby” you said and smiled — and the way you did it with adding ‘baby’ at the end just made something inside him warm up “Happy Halloween, Peter” you added quietly.

And that was the moment Peter stopped dead in his tracks and his smile slowly disappeared from his face as the feeling of dread suddenly dropped on him. 

Halloween?

Halloween.              

Ain’t no way it was today right? He’d remember if it was today — actually back home earlier and watch some spooky movie with you, occasionally getting up if someone would knock on your doors for candy. 

“...You forgot didn’t you?” you asked, raising your eyebrow gently — your tone not disappointed thankfully but not pleased either. 

“No baby, fuck I swear—” he tried to find an excuse or somehow get himself out of that situation. “Yeah… okay I did… I’m sorry” he said and dropped his gaze to the floor, making himself unintentionally look like a scolded hamster. 

You sighed quietly, not wanting him to feel bad but still feeling bitter at the situation you were in. You got that he was trying to prove himself and earn that special place or whatever it was he was going for but sometimes… you just wanted your boyfriend to actually be with you. And he couldn’t exactly blame you for that. 

“Oh now you got the right to remain silent” you said and shook your head as a playful smirk somehow made it back on your face. “Anything you say might be used against you.” you added and looked up at him and his gentle frown. 

“No, baby, I’m serious—” 

“Caught red handed at the crime scene?” you clicked your tongue and shook your head. “With a service gun still attached to your… belt? Not looking good for you, Officer Prior.” you tried to sound as professional yet playful as you could manage — yet you were far from being a cop and it seemed like your fumbling managed to bring back the small, shy smile on his face. 

He knew you were trying to make him feel better after the fuck up, despite it all.

“It’s been like that when I got here, officer!” he said and lifted his hands slightly higher.

“...that is like the worst excuse I’ve ever heard in the whole history of television.” you said and shook your head with disbelieving eyes. 

‘You are breaking the character—” Peter gasped before clicking his tongue and rolling his eyes playfully.

The mood definitely shifted — the surprised-sorry part shifted and you could hear in his voice how his mind shifted and finally got into ‘finally being home’ mode. The carefree, playful and slightly bratty version of your boyfriend was back — the only complaint of yours were the dark circles under his eyes… but you knew that after tonight they won’t get much better anyway. 

“Okay, okay–” your sign was filled with an attitude that made people crack even a wilder smile. “You are under arrest, officer Prior.” you repeated before a smirk bloomed on your face. “I will now question you, on your whereabouts” you said dramatically before leaning in to finally press a kiss to his lips. 

They were still slightly cold from when he was outside although it didn’t take long for them to warm up after connecting with yours. He finally let his hands fall down — one hand moving to slide his fingers into the belt loop of your shorts and pull you closer before another cupped your cheek gently. You shivered from the coolness of his fingers against your skin — your own hands on his chest, already undoing his tie and letting it fall on the tiles, if it falls into the fake blood pool… well you will just have to do an unplanned laundry. 

“Not the ‘questioning’ I’m familiar with.” he murmured after you finally parted away. “But I’m not complaining though.” he added before you shook your head gently. 

You bit your lip gently, trying to stop a smile that was creeping onto your face again before your hands gripped the collar of his uniform and pulled him back into the kiss, at the same time, blindly guiding him out of the bathroom and into your bedroom. 

The doors were kicked open as Peter deepened the kiss — his tongue licking over your lower lip and asking for an entrance. Because Peter loved to kiss you — to steal pecks, to press quick kisses when he was leaving for work and he was already running late, to make out on the couch with some random show playing in the background, when you got to do something together in the kitchen and the small kisses on the neck or shoulders ended up being more than should be performed on the kitchen counter. 

Peter’s breath hitched the moment his back hit the bed — his head on the pillows, his body finally melting into the mattress after a long day. And then tensing again at the sight and the feeling of you on top of him. This cop costume looked hotter on your than it should’ve — now messy from his hands wandering all over on your way here, your hat now lost somewhere on the floor and your cheeks rosy in the light of the Christmas lights you lit up before scaring him in the bathroom. 

“Fuck–” he breathed letting his head fall back down on the pillow as you reached to the buttons of your shirt, undoing it one by one, slowly as with an almost devilish smirk on your face that suddenly made him uncomfortable in his pants. 

Peter watched silently — first came off your shirt, showing off the black, lacy bra you had to get in secret and then hide it somewhere deep in the closet where he wouldn’t even look. Then his chest raised at the sight of you unclasping the handcuffs from your bet and tossing them nearby. 

Fuzzy, pink handcuffs — stupid looking compared to what he used daily yet still somehow making him so flustered and hot all over at the thought of what you had planned. 

“Jesus Christ, baby.” he swallowed and had to fight himself to keep his hands away the moment you pulled off the shorts too and tossed them at the floor by your bed, the fabric landing with a soft thud — one that sounded strangely similar to Peter’s speeding heart. 

“See something you like?” you chuckled quietly before moving to finally sit comfortably on his hips. 

Heat raised to your cheeks as you felt his hardness pressing gently against your core — demanding attention even if fully clothed and barely seeable in the dim light. Yet you felt it and it only made your cunt throb and shiver run down your spine. 

“You have no idea.” Peter sounded breathless. Why was he breathless? He saw you like that hundreds of times — on top of him, blushing, sometimes in a pretty lingerie he didn’t know you bought. 

Yet it felt different now, better somehow despite the very familiar surroundings. It was the same room, same bed and even sheets still smelled like the laundry detergent and a little bit like your body wash. 

Was it the surprise? The fact that you’ve done something so ridiculous yet so hot as buying a sexy cop costume and dressing up for him? He couldn’t tell, yet he wasn’t complaining about anything but the ache in his boxers. 

You moved, grabbing the handcuffs again before somehow putting them between the metal posts of your headboard. “Your hand, officer.” you said, hovering over him with a smirk and Peter looked at you with pupils so dilated as if you hung the stars on the sky. 

You heard him swallow the moment the handcuffs closed around both of his wrists – tight enough for him to not slide, able to slide out from the grasp but loose enough to not actually do any harm. You were careful because it’s not like you’ve ever done this kind of thing before, but it’s not like you’re gonna google ‘how to put my boyfriend in handcuffs’ either. So careful with them it was.

Peter’s hips bunched up as if in a pleading and you could only gasp quietly as he rubbed himself against you through the fabric of his pants. 

“Baby please—” he mumbled, looking up at you with pink cheeks and pleading gaze. “Please, I’m dying here.” he added and inhaled — his chest lifting and falling rapidly under the fabric of his shirt. 

You moved again – your fingers rushing to the buttons of his shirt as you lips pressed kisses down his collarbone and his chest with each button that came undone. You felt his muscles go rigid under your lips and he only closed his eyes and pressed his lips in a tight line as if to not let out any sound. 

Peter could feel your smirk against skin each time you pressed a kiss and went lower. The cocky smile that drove him crazy with love and desire and now made him want you more than anything. 

You felt yourself get wetter against the fabric of your panties when your fingers finally pulled at his belt – letting his shirt on, just open so you could see how deeply he was breathing. The metal clink of the clasp seemed to echo in the room before Peter lifted his hips to help you pull it out of the loops and you only grew more desperate while trying to tug his uniform pants off. 

“I actually hate those uniforms of yours.” you grumbled quietly and shook your head after the fabric finally joined the previous ones on the floor. 

“...last week you said it makes me look hot.” you said and bucked his hips again when your hand tugged at his boxers. 

“It does… but taking it off is a pain in my ass.” you said and huffed quietly but a small smile bloomed on your face anyway at the thought that he actually remembered it. “Not worth it at all.” you added. 

Peter opened his mouth to argue, yet only a surprised whine left his mouth after our hand wrapped around him. You felt him twitching in your hand — his cock already leaking precum from his pink tip, desperate for attention and needy for your touch. Your hand worked slowly, stroking him up and down and helping yourself with the white liquid to make it smoother. His hips twitched again as your skin made contact with his sensitive tip — teasing it as if to taunt him when his hands itched to touch you. 

“Fucking— baby, please?” he inhaled shaking. “Please just— just ride me please.” he looked up at you as the lights illuminated in his blue eyes. 

“...You’re so annoyingly pretty like that y’know?” you huffed quietly before crawling up the bed to press your lips back to his. 

The kiss was passionate — way more messy than before, way more desperate as if neither of your bodies could withstand the tension that built up between you and seemed to snap at any moment. With one hand you carefully pulled our panties to the side — your fingers grazing accidentally over your wet cunt that only made you moan into his lips before finally positioning yourself above him and sinking down on it. 

You both whined into each other's lips as his cock finally slid into your heat all the way in. You pulled away — your forehead resting on his as you both breathed out curses and gasped quietly with closed eyes.  

You straightened up reluctantly — shaky hands on his chest as you tried to steady yourself on top of him and regain your focus. You could hear your heart beating wildly in your chest, probably mirroring Peter’s as heat raised to your cheeks. 

You started slowly. Rocking your hips against his — forward and back in a steady rhythm and the sensation made your toes curl up and your eyebrows scrunch up in a frown of pleasure. 

“I missed you so much—” he breathed bucking his hips to draw up into you to only heighten the sensation. “So much I was thinking everyday about you” you breathed and let his head fal back down against the pillow. 

He groaned quietly, feeling you clench at his words — gaze already hazy as if his eyes were behind a cloud as he looked at you. 

“Everyday? Pervert.” you let out a breathy chuckle before looking down at him. 

“Pervert? That’s—” he grunted again before shaking his head. “You’re being annoying on purpose.” he said but you felt him throb inside you with each drag. 

“And what else? You jerked off thinking about me?” you asked before you hand lifted off his chest to undo the clasp of your bra and let it slide down your arms.

“No!?” he said and inhaled deeply at the sight of your hand nipples before swallowing down. “Okay— maybe once? Twice. Okay twice, yeah.” 

You could only laugh quietly before your moves quickened enough to tilt your head back as you pushed your hips upwards to chase the pleasure. And it coiled in your lower belly, the innocent tingling between your legs as you sped up — the first sign of the wave to come, one that got you so excited already. 

You were rocking your hips, lifting yourself slightly to sink back on him as your hair sticks to your forehead and back. Another whimper left your lips as your hand pressed back against his chest to steady yourself without losing the pace. You could feel how rapidly his heart was beating, could feel every breath he took under your fingertips as his own pressed to your skin, helping you move above him. 

Peter’s hair was a mess — all messed up and tangled from where your hands were while you kissed him and from when he tilted his head against the pillow. His cheeks rosy and pupils wide as he tried his best to match the rhyme despite the desperation for release. 

You could feel his coil in your guts, every time his cock hit this one right spot – the one that almost made you see stars or tears to prickle in your eyes. “Peter–” you mumbled looking down at him with need blooming in your eyes.  

“I know, baby, I know.” he nodded and swallowed again, biting down at his bottom lip and for a moment you were sure he would draw blood. “Touch yourself for me—” he inhaled and you were sure that if not the bounded wrists he’d have his hands all over you. 

You swallowed down before your hand sneaked between your legs — fingers pressing to your throbbing clit and making you moan quietly as you focused on not losing the rhythm. The gesture – so simple and almost forgettable was the thing that made you fall apart around him. You clenched on him, tightly, desperately, circling the pearl with your fingertips just to feel the pleasure coil itself tighter in your belly. 

“Fuck, that’s so hot.” Peter mumbled before wetting his lips as his hands pulled slightly against the pink handcuffs as if needy to be freed and touched whenever they wanted. “Keep doing that for me—”

“Jesus, fuck, Peter—” you inhaled closing your eyes as they watered before gasping as your fet him finally match the quickened pace and thrust up into you. 

“I know–... I know–” he nodded and looked up at you. “I’m close too, baby, I know.” 

You could feel him twitch inside you, his cock needy for release after so much stimulation. You pulled your hand away — you felt like you needed your whole will for that — before leaning down to press his lips to his again. Needy, sloppy and on the bring of falling of the age right into the wave of pleasure. 

But instead it crashed into you — suddenly — making your groan into his lips and squeezing your fingers at the sheets as your hips twitched to prolong the feeling somehow. Peter followed right behind — spilling deep inside you in a messy spurt that made him tilt his head back with hissy gasps and eyes squeezed shut. 

You rested your head against his collarbone, breathing deeply to calm down, to come down your high as your heart thrummed loudly — his cock still twitching inside you in aftershocks as you refused to immediately get off of him. 

“You… you know where the keys to those are?” he asked and weakly tried to lift his hands. 

Your blood suddenly ran cold at the memory of throwing the packaging of the handcuffs away “Fuck—”

Thank you for reading I hope you enjoyed it! Subby Peter forever my favorite. I don't consent to copying my work or translating it, don't upload it to an other platforms. DO NOT TURN THIS INTO AN AI BOT - like it happened with my Shawn Heard fic, to the person that did that is so disrespectful of you to feel entitled enough to steal someone's work and turn into into an AI bot. Without any consent or even doing so little as to give credit. To any that might have similar idea - I do not consent to any form of copying, do NOT steal my work.

taglist: @ethel-angel @ghostlybfgf @userhotd @nanascharms @trixxxel @umadirectioner @user456754 @koolblackberry @yolosis @daisyyoonie @koolblackberry @qardasngan @elisabethturner1919 @sczlxdy @itspbjellytime @morriganstark @aerangi

© starxs-s. est, 2026

[frozengooogurt]

i need more modern au aerion where’s hes a rich spoiled university student instead of trailer trash NOT DISSING TT AERION 😥 but honestly i need me some spoiled trust fund nepobaby 🤤

[starxs-s]

Upload, ok?

[yunyuu]

Bobby Franklin texts pt.1

[starxs-s]

id love to hear your take on max with a reader who is just like him but she doesn't know it yet and thinks she's just a sweet and naïve

He thinks he's playing her but in reality he's the one being played. I think that despite everything Max can be easily manipulated - a kiss here, a touch there, battling eyelashes and praising him for being 'such a good boyfriend' plus some blow job from time to time and Max turns into a dumbass while thinking how he's a master of manipulation. He's like most of men - thinking they've done it all by themselves while not doing shit in reality.

That was you can get LITERALLY whatever you want - trips, jewelry and all that sort of things. He remains cocky and possessive but at the same time he tries to do everything to get you to praise him. In his mind he HAS to do it in order for you to behave like you need him.

[ho-mad]

Just a normal day for the newly wedded couple. Dunk's exactly where he wants to be, don't save him

[the-ravening]

We had such a hot year group. It’s just a shame so many of us ended up dead.

Henry Ashton as Max Hastings | Emma Myers as Pip Fitz-Amobi  A Good Girl’s Guide to Murder 1.04