#[[ DON'T STIR UP ANYTHING IF YOU KNOW WHAT'S GOOD FOR YOU ]]
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Trouble Like A Mugshot (1.5k)
Pairing: Lucy Maclean/Cooper Howard
Summary: After a long day of travelling the wastelands, Lucy is feeling horny and asks Cooper if he wants to have sex with her. A question which is much more complicated than she could have possibly known.
(A/N: I might turn this into a short series of moments showcasing the pairs developing relationship from this to hard nsfw if that's something folks would like to see.)
Fic Masterlist
Link to AO3
Lucy Maclean was no stranger to the difficult to ignore feelings which were pressing at her body. Fingers slightly trembling, breath coming in shorter bursts than she would admit to, eyes unable to pull themselves fully away from the lounging ghoul who reclined in his nearby bunk with a relaxed stance; cowboy hat tipped across his face as he feigned sleep.
Lucy Maclean knew herself enough to understand that her restlessness wasn't the radition sickness which had recently started to touch at her peripherals again. Nor was it the fact that it had been weeks since she'd had any time to herself that wasn't shadowed by either her ghoulish companion or some other entity.
Lucy Maclean was horny and she was never one to deny herself a simple, sneaky little indulgence when the mood took her.
"Hey, Cooper." She called, fingers rolling across her bare forearms as she sat with her back to the wall, legs crossed in a neat pile. "You awake and listening to me?"
"Hard not to with those foghorn vocals." A grumpy response, muffled by the hat rang back at her. "What are you yapping your flap about?
"Do you want to have sex?"
In their time together, Lucy had never witnessed Cooper doing anything that her vault lessons had taught her were sexual acts. He didn't touch himself around her, didn't disappear for some self-relief as the boys did, didn't make any kind of pass at her like some of the others had done before her husband had been selected. As far as she knew, maybe the ghoul didn't even feel the same things she did, and that realisation made her roll back on her question almost as quickly as she had asked it.
"I mean, if you can have sex that is. I don't know if your," Lucy paused, unsure how to describe her partners physical state without causing offence, "condition, makes it possible. I don't even know if you have the right parts for it but there's other ways of experiencing pleasure. We could use our mou-"
Cutting herself off as her babbling reach a new octave, Lucy watched as Cooper's body - his frame stock still since she had asked her initial question - finally stirred into action. A reddened hand slowly rose from its position by his hip until it reached the cowboy hat, plucking the leather from his face as he turned to look at his bunkmate and travelling companion with an indescribable expression; various emotions fluttering through his typically stoic face.
"I know your experiences with ghouls are limited, princess." Cooper spoke patiently, voice low as he fired the hated nickname at her, her vocal dislike of the new monkier making it a very quick favourite of his. "But the whole package is still intact so let's get that established before you go telling people falsehoods about my good person."
"Okay. Noted." Lucy held her hands up apologetically and her knees touched as she lounged against the concrete wall which was supporting her. "But you didn't answer me. Do you want to? Have sex, I mean? Last time i did was with my assigned husband and it was good enough, great even, but then he tried to kill me and it was this whole thing."
Mentally filing that information away for future use and subtle further investigation, Cooper lay back fully against his own cot and tilted his head closer in her direction, thankful for the dimness of their shared room as it shielded most of his features.
"As much as I'd love to bury my bone in a new patch of land, I don't think that's necessarily the best choice in terms of this little partnership we've stitched together."
Indicating his sewn finger, he wagged it at her dismissively as a discomforting sensation flooded his stomach, mild arousal at the thought of some tail mixing with something dangerous that set his teeth on edge.
"Why not? It's only sex."
Suddenly feeling older than he had any right to, Cooper fell silent as he mused on her question for a moment.
Lucy Maclean.
Eyes as big as a doe, that girl was built soft but he was lucky enough to see people for what they truly were and the steel which lurked beneath the painful optimism and naivety that shone free of her would make her a dangerous player if she ever truly entered the game. He felt the burden of his own cruelty at times, cornering her into making decisions that would cause her little vaultie friends to vomit if they knew the violence she enacted, but with every difficult choice came a fresh coating to that steel which would see her survive and thrive in the wastelands.
It's only sex.
In his life, Cooper Howard had enjoyed less sexual partners than many would believe. A sticky fumbling in the upper level of an old barn had been his first, the other party a sweet girl from a nearby ranch who was two years older and knew what she wanted from him. Pretty soon after that came Barb and as soon as he laid eyes on her he never saw anything past her.
War was terrible for the other men and many lost themselves in drink and the women who haunted the barracks and backlines looking for poor souls to feed on. But not him. Never him.
Not when he had to come home to Barb.
Even when married and at the height of his fame, when aspiring young things would throw themselves at him, their perfumes overpowered by the stink of wine and cigarettes, he had rebuffed them politely. He was loyal and he enjoyed the fruits of that loyalty as he held his wife in his arms and basked in the sweet sounds that she would make as they fucked. Hell, she had even given him a daughter and he loved her every day for it.
War never changes.
But he did.
And fuck him if his new appearance and designation as a Ghoul didn't screw him out of any chance of some stress relief as he wandered the wastelands. Might as well have been a fucking leper for all the tail which was now afforded to him and his leathery visage.
Not for Lucy Maclean though.
She, it seemed, didn't care about any of that.
"Did I say something wrong? The leaders explained all acts of intercourse to us so I know what I'm doing and I consent fully."
Lucy's voice, heated with an almost defensive lilt, broke into his musings and Cooper blinked at her as the hole that made up his nose flared while he inhaled deeply.
"I don't doubt that, darling. I've seen how you handle a pistol." Reverting to his typical sarcasm as he looked, truly looked, at her, Cooper sighed at the earnestness which oozed from her features. "But I'm gonna have to decline. Politely."
"Is it because of me? Did i do somethig wrong? I mean, my husband didn't seem to mind but then he was planning on killing me anyway so y'know?" Making a wild gesture with her fingers as she spoke, the casualness of her speech wasn't enough to mask the genuine insecurity which threaded through the questions.
"You're fine. Attractive little thing, even. I think any man would jump at the chance to have you wrapped around them like an old holster."
He wasn't lying- and he wasn't blind. She was a good looking young woman, her innocence flickering like the dull embers of a welcoming fire in the darkness of the wastelands. She was enthusiastic, eager, and damn pretty with those big eyes and curved figure which hid beneath the bulky clothes which she used for protection. More than once he'd caught himself glancing at her as she bent to snatch up things from the floor and the few times he did allow himself to fall into something like sleep featured breathy moans and the feeling of long, brunette strands brushing through his ungloved hands. Mouthy too so he knew she would be a vocal one - probably yowling like a hellcat.
It would be so easy to have her.
A simple yes and she would no doubt leap into action, shedding those clothes as quickly as did her weapons when trying to find peaceful solutions to violent problems. He would treat her right, everh inch the gentleman cowboy and no doubt much better than that shady husband she'd unwittingly fucked. He'd show her things with his fingers and mouth that would have her screaming loud enough to wake up all the devils in hell. Against the cot, against the wall and against whatever furniture she wanted, he could show her how a real man treats a woman as they both burned off some stress.
Feeling a very definite stirring in his groin, Cooper was quick to banish the dangerous thoughts.
"But a bad man like me shouldn't be allowed near a pretty little thing yourself. You're ready for a lot, Lucy Maclean, but you ain't ready for that."
Something almost like understanding passed through her gaze and Lucy nodded, instead exhaling deeply as she tapped the back of her head against the wall behind her.
"In that case, would you mind leaving for an hour so that I can masturbate, please?"
Cursing himself for the little shred of morality which plucked at his heart and refused to allow him to ruin this unknowing tease of a woman, Cooper dutifully rose to his feet and marched to the nearby door.
"You get half an hour." He grunted, barely tilting his head towards her as he stormed out into the nighttime air - determined to get far enough away that there was no chance that he would hear her and break his determined stance.
Besides, he might not be fucking her but as his cock pressed against his slacks, he wasn't masochistic enough to deny himself a similar pleasure and the distance would also give him some much needed alone time.
Goddamn Lucy Maclean.
#fallout#fallout amazon#lucy maclean#cooper howard#lucy x cooper#ghoucy#lucy x ghoul#cooper x lucy#ghoul x lucy#fallout smut#walton goggins#ella purnell
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Raphael and/or Haarlep reacting to seeing Tav in the wavemother robes?
enby, afab Tav with top surgery
seduction
read on AO3
Wavemother Help Me Now
Well. Tav pulled at the hem of the scaly robe. They lost that bet fair and square. And while the high slit and deep neckline promised forbidden views, they didn't yield any by themselves. With a little tweaking though, Tav could show anything they wanted to.
It would have to do. Hopefully. It wasn't that the price for the lost bet was bad or anything. It made sense and Raphael did take up a lot of their thoughts. So getting hi out of their system by getting him into their pussy was a sound plan.
But how did you even seduce a devil? With cunning ploys? Outright demands? They'd find out. Because, unfortunately, the price wasn't "trying their best and leaving it at that" but honest to goodness seduction.
Gotta bang that devil. Tav scrutinised their looks a last time. At least they knew where he was. And that he had a pool. Between the Wavemother robe and the water, they'd come up with something. Hopefully.
# # #
"What is it with that – getup." Raphael's eyes raked over Tav. The adventurer wore a – revealing robe to put it mildly. And yet, there was no sliver of skin of the enticing kind to be seen. What a tease.
"Oh this?" Tav shrugged and the motion raised the slit of the robe dangerously high. "I lost a bet."
"And now you have to wear – this?"
They shrugged again with similar effect and mumbled under their breath blushing. "Astarion said it'd be less breezy around the – well, around everywhere if I started wearing undies. But that day may never come. Anyway," Tav gathered themself. "It's not all bad. Look."
They stepped over the rose petals into the pool and lifted the robe so it wouldn't get wet. Raphael swallowed hard.
"It heals me when I stand in water. Helpful, yes?" They turned slowly as if that would show the healing properties.
"Yes, very impressive." Raphael said, proud of the flat tone in his voice. "Was there anything else? A contract you reconsidered maybe?"
Tav stilled and dropped the robe. It made a small sound as it dipped right into the water and floated around their legs. The slit turned especially adventurous, if unsuccessful at revealing their private parts.
"I knew I forgot something," Tav sighed. "It's not so easy, you know. Lae'zel will kill me if I don't free her Prince. And Karlach and Wyll will kill me if I deal with a devil. It's kinda a fix."
"And how do you intend to fix that?" Raphael took a goblet with heavy red wine and a step towards the pool. With his hands occupied it felt safe enough.
"I don't know." Tav dropped their hands to their sides, where their fingers played with the high slit of their robe, hiding and revealing skin in an almost hypnotic pattern.
"Protection can be arranged as part of the contract."
"Really?" Tav brightened and raised their hands to their chest. Unfortunately, they tangled in the robe on their way up, revealing almost everything as the fabric bunched momentarily over Tav's crotch. "It's still two against one."
Raphael thrust the wine into their hands. "If you need time to consider, help yourself. I have other matters to attend to."
"Oh." The word dropped from Tav's mouth small and soft. "Of course." They climbed out of the pool and walked to his desk, dripping water all over his floor. Tav put the goblet down with a sigh. "You know, bending me over the desk and fucking me silly would be a strong argument in your favour."
Raphael froze. Had he heard correctly? He went through the conversation again, but yes, it seemed that Tav had not only admitted to not wearing underwear but also asked to be taken from behind over his desk. The image parched Raphael's mouth. He could feel his cock stir and press against the inside of his trousers.
And they had not moved. Stood with their back to him and eyes cast down into the wine. Raphael let his gaze wander over the curve of their back and ass. A clear invitation. One he had not expected.
He stepped behind Tav and his breath on their neck made them shudder. "I don't think that is an argument I want to make."
Each of his words dropped onto Tav's skin and they sighed sweetly under them. He slipped a hand under the robe and over the shivering skin over Tav's stomach. They pressed back against him immediately.
"You will find that my own arguments are a little more convincing." Raphael moved his fingers down, teasing the joint between thigh and body. Tav mewled, their fingers gripping the desk turning white with pressure.
"I am," they drew a sharp breath as his hand descended, "open to suggestions."
"Matters of this importance should not be rushed." The reversal of roles suited Raphael perfectly. He cupped their sex with his hand and slipped his index finger down between Tav's fold. They were invitingly warm and wet for him.
Who knew. Maybe he would just bend them over the desk. A quick solution to the pressing problem building between his own legs. "The question is what I will get out of this."
Whatever Tav's answer was going to be, it was lost when he pushed away the robes and cupped their ass with his free hand. It wasn't the most dignified of intercourses, but if Tav had wanted that they wouldn't have presented a standing invitation. He squeezed.
Tav pressed into his hand, and moments later over his naked cock. Raphael took them in with a low growl, marking Tav's throat with hungry teeth. It was obvious what he'd get out of this and if he had his way, and he planned to, this would not the last time, Tav offered themself on a silver platter. He'd devour that little mouse until they forgot why this was a bad idea.
#bg3#bg3 raphael#raphael x tav#writing prompt#anon answered#sleazy second-hand car dealer#mel writes fanfic
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Tw use of the term "slut" in a sexual contest [idk if that even is a tw but i wanted to specify it].
So, there is a certain person i've been interacting with, here on this blog. I think you know who you are. You know i'm talking about you, dear 😏
And there is also this recurring fantasy going on and on in my mind.
The two of us are hanging out together with some other friends, hand in hand, and you are wearing a delicious short skirt. One of those flowery skirts, extremely sexy, and easy to lift up, by the way. I love it, i love it and i love the way it looks on your body. The urge to take that off of you, right in front of our friends and everybody else around us, it's making it hard to focus on the conversation taking place.
And, to make matters even worse, i know you are a little bit of an attention slut...well, you are an attention slut, big time. You want my attention to focus on you, only you, and you can't help acting all bratty.
You smile at me in that way, twirling your hair just like the slut you are, and then look away. You keep accidentally touching my waist, my thight, my hair, and making up stupid excuses for it. <<There was a fly on your shoulder>> or <<I thought you spilled some coffee on your trousers>>. But the worst thing is, you act like you're not doing it on purpose, like you're not doing anything wrong.
What is it? You can't stand it, when i give my attention to all of this people, instead of focusing it all on my little slut?
Well, it's not like i didn't tell you before what i think about this kind of behaviour: i don't like it, when you act like that in public. Maybe it's time for me to show you what this bratty behaviour gets you.
I would propose to sit down at a table, and of course make you sit right in between my legs, so that everybody can see who you belong to. <<My little slut is a bit jealous, mmh?>> I whisper in your ear, and enjoy as my words make you stir against my lap. Enjoy as i watch your pretty cheeks blush.
When the waitress arrive to take the order, i ask for a glass of pomegranate juice. And it would be a real shame if i were too- mmh, idk, spill it on that pretty dress of yours. Oopsie, you know i'm a bit clumsy sometimes, baby. I'm so sorry. Of course it's not like i meant to stain your skirt, to make it all adeherent to your legs and sheer.
Our friends give me some tissues to dry your legs up, of course. But, alas, i can't do it properly if you don't spread your legs a bit. They're under the table: no one except me can see what's behind that slutty skirt of yours. I start slowly rubbing your inner thights with those tissues, up and down. Try to keep a straight face now, slut. Or would you like all of our friends to know exactly what's going on under the table?
Isn't that what you were suggesting, my dear?
Oh, you were trying to suggest i'd take you home, first? Well, too bad, slut. Act like a brat in public, get punished in public.
I push my hand even further, pressing the soaked tissues on your even more soaked underwear, and you let out a loud gasp. It's loud enough for everyone else at the table to hear it, loud enough for you to be forced to make up an excuse for it.
Good luck with that, slut.
And what kind of punishment would it be, if i gave you what you wanted? Oh no, you gotta learn your lesson: as soon as it feels like you're starting to enjoy it, i stop moving my fingers and move them away from your clothed cunt.
Yeah, i want you to get more and more frustrated while i use you as i please.
<<Try to keep a straight face, slut. Take your punishment, and wait until we get home>>.
#hehe 🤭#requests are open#spicy fantasy#lesbian smut#wlw nsft#wlw ns/fw#you know who you are dear#lesbian#dykeposting#sappho would be proud of me#happy lesbian visibility week
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33 for the ask game? need some salt…
33. How do they greet someone they dislike/hate?
I have a reputation to keep,,,must keep quiet, okay?
#hws singapore#hetalia#hws ask blog#hetalia ask blog#[[ DON'T STIR UP ANYTHING IF YOU KNOW WHAT'S GOOD FOR YOU ]]#[[he's absolutely complaining on some telegram group chat somewhere though]]#[[YALL KNOW WHAT IT MEANS TO SHOW FACE]]
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I've had a hard time articulating to people just how fundamental spinning used to be in people's lives, and how eerie it is that it's vanished so entirely. It occurred to me today that it's a bit like if in the future all food was made by machine, and people forgot what farming and cooking were. Not just that they forgot how to do it; they had never heard of it.
When they use phrases like "spinning yarns" for telling stories or "heckling a performer" without understanding where they come from, I imagine a scene in the future where someone uses the phrase "stir the pot" to mean "cause a disagreement" and I say, did you know a pot used to be a container for heating food, and stirring was a way of combining different components of food together? "Wow, you're full of weird facts! How do you even know that?"
When I say I spin and people say "What, like you do exercise bikes? Is that a kind of dancing? What's drafting? What's a hackle?" it's like if I started talking about my cooking hobby and my friend asked "What's salt? Also, what's cooking?" Well, you see, there are a lot of stages to food preparation, starting with planting crops, and cooking is one of the later stages. Salt is a chemical used in cooking which mostly alters the flavor of the food but can also be used for other things, like drawing out moisture...
"Wow, that sounds so complicated. You must have done a lot of research. You're so good at cooking!" I'm really not. In the past, children started learning about cooking as early as age five ("Isn't that child labor?"), and many people cooked every day their whole lives ("Man, people worked so hard back then."). And that's just an average person, not to mention people called "chefs" who did it professionally. I go to the historic preservation center to use their stove once or twice a week, and I started learning a couple years ago. So what I know is less sophisticated than what some children could do back in the day.
"Can you make me a snickers bar?" No, that would be pretty hard. I just make sandwiches mostly. Sometimes I do scrambled eggs. "Oh, I would've thought a snickers bar would be way more basic than eggs. They seem so simple!"
Haven't you ever wondered where food comes from? I ask them. When you were a kid, did you ever pick apart the different colored bits in your food and wonder what it was made of? "No, I never really thought about it." Did you know rice balls are called that because they're made from part of a plant called rice? "Oh haha, that's so weird. I thought 'rice' was just an adjective for anything that was soft and white."
People always ask me why I took up spinning. Isn't it weird that there are things we take so much for granted that we don't even notice when they're gone? Isn't it strange that something which has been part of humanity all across the planet since the Neanderthals is being forgotten in our generation? Isn't it funny that when knowledge dies, it leaves behind a ghost, just like a person? Don't you want to commune with it?
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wet&messy, afab!reader, no prns, just my brain worms dancing as usual, simon is obsessed with ur pleasure bc i SAID so, idk what this is its not normal grinding but.....just a lil treat from the depths of my brain <3
soft devoted simon who is addicted to your pleasure. everything he does is to get u off. he literally thinks about making u cum while he eats sleeps and dreams. its his hobby tbh
he loves loves loves slow, deep, sloppy sex. he loves having you spread and pinned beneath him — he's so much bigger than u so he can manhandle u and move you however he pleases bc he knows exactly what u need before u even know urself.
in particular, his favorite thing to do is have u pinned open your knees against his ribs and his body draped over yours. either holding himself up by his elbow above your head or his arms on either side of your head. he's got his knees slid underneath your thighs, making sure his hips are flush against yours.
you can't even break eye contact, he wont let you. all you can do is whine and squeal as he makes you take it nice and deep. his body covers yours; his scenes overwhelms you his body heat makes you sweat from just how warm the man is.
then he starts with the grinding — the slow, deep grinding of his hips that makes his cock stir inside you. there's gooey, sticky wet noises from between your thighs when he does it. he makes sure he slides over your clit in this position too.
you can't do anything but twitch and drool as he does it. and he'll do it until you cum all over him he doesn't care how long it takes.
sometimes he milks multiple orgasms out of you this way. it practically melts your brain with how he touches every single sweet little spot inside of you without ever thrusting — just that godforsaken grinding.
you don't know what to do with yourself. he's so deep. you're so wet. it's messy and loud. you scramble to hold whatever part of him you can; scratch his back, tug his hair, slap the bed beneath you. doesn't matter because you won't be getting out from under him or getting a chance to breathe until you cum.
and god, he's so deep. he's so fucking deep!
you're creaming all over him, the base of his cock covered in a thick, milky ring that just about drives him over the edge with you when you squeeze around him like a perfect little vice.
he's whispering praise and sweet little compliments about how lovely you look cumming and how good you make him feel.
it's almost crazy how selfless he is with making you feel good. he doesn't even care if you're too fucked out and tired to do anymore. doesn't even care to get off himself. all he thinks about all day is grinding into you until you gush a sweet little mess all over him without him even breaking a sweat.
ur so sweet and pliant for him and he loves it. loves u!!! adores u!!!
will go to sleep happily with a hard cock as long as u are satisfied.
but if u tell him what you want is for him to fill u up nice and full...well....he'll do anything to please his baby!!! <3
#simon ghost riley smut#simon riley smut#simon ghost riley x reader#simon riley x reader#ghost smut#ghost x reader#cod x reader#cod smut#simon ghost riley
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I NEEEEEED MORE STRIPPER!READER X SPENCER
fem, 1.2k
You and Spencer aren't dating, but he thinks you might be in the before.
"You're home!" you say, clambering at the door to slip out of your shoes. You throw yourself at him as soon as you're close enough, the salted caramel and sandalwood of your new perfume washing over him. "You're here! I missed you."
Spencer tries not to blush. He wishes you weren't so close —his hair is lank from two days unwashed, his five o'clock shadow obvious and embarrassing. If you notice anything unappealing about him you don't give the slightest inclination, your arms crossing over his back as you drive your face into his neck.
"I can't believe how much I missed you, Dr. Reid," you say warmly.
"I missed you too." Morgan would laugh at him for being this earnest, maybe comment on his lack of charisma, but Spencer doesn't know how else to show that he's interested beyond sincerity.
You step back but work your hands up his neck and into his hair, raking it away from his cheeks. "That's better. I can see you better now."
Spencer thought he remembered only horrible things from being a teenager, but he remembers this feeling, sweaty-palmed, heart-racing want. You tilt his head gently one way and then the other like you're following the motion of a wave, fingertips scratching in his hair, the sensation stirring the very pit of his stomach. No trace of tiredness remains on your face, only spritely joy to see him.
"That feels nice," he confesses. He's not weird about it, more friendly.
Your aswering grin tells him he nailed the casualness he was aiming for.
"You've been working hard," you say, tucking his hair behind his ears and dusting down his shoulders, "I can tell. You look tired."
"You don't. Short shift?"
"Is it weird that bad weather genuinely keeps people home? I guess they prefer their wives when it's cold."
"No, really? Who could ever pick the woman they married over you and those silver shorts?" he teases, peeling out of his sweater.
The shirt underneath is rumpled, but he doesn't care about that. Anything to be seen between you has been seen. Spencer has, unquestionably, seen you half naked. You've seen him in his boxers, so you're just about square. "Idiots, all of them."
You're staying with him again while a security company fits your apartment with the appropriate trappings. Or, that was the initial reason. Spencer went with you to assess after it was done, discovering black mould in the corner of your bedroom and spreading its evil way across the bathroom ceiling.
What is that? he asked, knowing what it was, hoping you'd at least pretend to be concerned.
That's fifty bucks off a month, Spence. Don't look so horrified.
"I missed you," you say for the third time in as many minutes. "And I hoped you'd be home, so I brought Chinese food for two."
You and Spencer change into pyjamas, and it's cliche but whatever, you look beautiful undone —he's not stupid enough to lie to himself about how he feels when you're wearing your little outfits, but he prefers this side of you a thousand times over because you like it better. You wear your prized baseball tee, white with blue sleeves, and a pair of sweatpants pushed up high on one leg while you ice your sore knee. He sits cross legged opposite, jabbing his chopsticks into one of your crispy spring rolls just to watch you gasp.
"Can I ask you something too personal?"
You rub down the length of your naked calf, sighing as some of the tension releases. You're more bruise than girl lately, splodges of tender skin patterning the inside. "What don't you know about me, at this point?" you ask.
Like it's a good thing. Like you're glad for it.
"Are you making enough money?" he asks.
You steal back your spring roll, answering him through rice paper and greens, "Kind of. Not tonight, but enough for dinner. I'll be okay."
"Did you think about it?"
You shovel through your waxy box of rice, shrugging. "I thought about it, but… it's not realistic. What office would take me? What drug store?"
"I could loan you the money while you apprentice, and get some experience, you could go back to school–" He says it all in a rush and you still knock him down.
"It's real sweet of you, Spence, it is, but I couldn't let you do that. That makes me your charity case, and not your friend."
"What else do you do for the people you care about?" he asks. Let them stay at a job they don't like, even if they're good at it, one that puts them statistically at higher risk for femicide or assault?
"I wouldn't need a loan, Spencer, I'd need more than you have," you say gently. "I'd have to start my life from scratch. How would I pay rent? You couldn't afford to keep us both."
"You could stay with me again."
You shake your head. "You're the best friend I've ever had, which is why I'm saying no."
He doesn't get what you mean, but you finish your dinner and help him clean up. He more than trusts you to stay here alone while he's on a case, you've honestly left it in better condition than you found it, and he insists you sleep in his bed again while you're here.
"Don't be silly," you say, throwing a sheet out over the couch. "This is your place. You need to sleep in your own bed."
The disaster is that it smells like you. Spencer says goodnight to you reluctantly and leaves you on the couch with every throw blanket he owns, climbing into his own bed and pulling the comforter up to his nose. He imagines you here at night, your body wash still clinging to your skin from a late night shower, your hand tucked under his pillow. There are so many things he'd like to give you, if you'd just let him.
He spends a quiet thirty minutes like that, missing the warmth of your skin and your casual touching, wishing he could offer you the fresh start you desire, even if it meant he wasn't involved.
The couch springs creak as you toss and turn, the sound finding it's way down the short hall from the living room slash kitchen to his bedroom. Hesitant, Spencer shifts in bed, hitting that one coil in his mattress just right, the twang resounding.
You appear in his doorway with your borrowed pillows crushed to your chest not long after that. You don't need to ask, Spencer doesn't need to answer. He can't give you everything that you want, but he can give you a quiet, comfortable night next to someone who loves you.
Ever well-tempered, you slip into the sheets beside him and curl up toward him, your fingertips brushing his side. You don't look at him in the dark, but you mumble sleepily, fingers twitching, "Night, Spence."
You're out like a light.
#spencer reid#spencer reid x reader#spencer reid x you#spencer reid x y/n#spencer reid x fem!reader#spencer reid imagine#spencer reid fluff#spencer reid fanfic#spencer reid oneshot#spencer reid scenario#spencer reid drabble#spencer reid fic#spencer reid fanfiction#criminal minds fanfiction#criminal minds#criminal minds fic#criminal minds x reader
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headcanons for the cod men if they found out you were a virgin... i promise this is not self indulgent 🫣
𝐜𝐨𝐝 𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭
𝐌𝐃𝐍𝐈; 𝟏𝟖+ 𝐂𝐎𝐍𝐓𝐄𝐍𝐓; 𝐄𝐗𝐏𝐋𝐈𝐂𝐈𝐓 𝐂𝐎𝐍𝐓𝐄𝐍𝐓
includes: ghost, price, soap, alejandro, konig, and gaz.
afab!reader. female pet names used. reader refers to self as a woman.
GHOST *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧
♡ ok ok ok, he would have never thought he’d want to be specifically with a virgin. like it never really crossed his mind before now, but he just assumed he’d always like being with someone more experienced. he likes a quick hook up. doesn’t have the time to be all gentle and soft and caring for someone who's never done it before, ya know? not that he's an asshole or anything, but he never thought he'd be the right person to take someone's virginity.
♡ but when you tell him you’re a virgin, something stirs inside him. he doesn’t mind. not one bit. if anything, he actually gets a little giddy, wanting to be the one who shows you how it’s done.
♡ and he ends up being rather sweet about it. he goes slow. he takes his time. he spends a good amount of time prepping you. “jus’ lay back, sweetheart. gotta make sure you’re good n’ ready to take me.”
♡ when it finally comes down to it, he’s easy to edge into you. you grip his shoulders tightly, squeezing your eyes shut. “gotta talk to me, love. gotta know i’m not hurtin’ you.”
you nod and look up at him. “i’m okay. keep going. please.”
he kisses your lips and continues in. after a few painstaking moments, “alright. i’m halfway. jus’ a lil more.”
“only halfway?! jesus fucking—“
ghost laughs, his hand caressing your face and tucking a stray strand of hair behind your ear. when he’s finally fully seated, he groans, fisting the sheets beside your head to keep himself from rutting into full force.
♡ “ah. you okay, pet?”
“y-yes. are you all the way in?”
“mhm”
“okay. just… give me a moment.”
“take your time, love. we got all night.”
you let yourself adjust for several moments. “can you move, now?”
he kisses you, slowly dragging himself halfway out and then pushing back into you, making you both gasp into each other’s mouths.
"you're so fuckin' tight," he groans as he tries to take his time. he doesn't want to hurt you.
♡ and he knows the rumor that women don't usually orgasm their first time, so he wanted to make sure you came at least twice before he shoved his cock in you. he wants you to associate this with a positive experience.
♡ and he tries his hardest to make you feel good too. he begins to rub your clit as he thrusts and you moan loudly. he grins. "you like that, princess?"
you nod your head vigorously. and sure enough, he's able to make you come around his cock and he swears that was some of the best sex of his life. it wasn't the fact that you were a virgin, it was the trust and the intimacy of it that made this so good for him. he never thought he'd care for things like that until now.
PRICE *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧
♡ price doesn't really mind either way, but he was definitely surprised when you told him -- he couldn't believe someone as beautiful as you had never slept with anyone. but he's honored that you'd trust him enough to experience that with him.
♡ he kisses you and lays you down on his bed, tucking a stray hair behind your ear. "jus' let me take care of you, love," he coos.
you bite your lip and nod. he starts by going down on you, making you come on his tongue like he has before. then he's back above you, wanting your first time to be in missionary, making you as relaxed as possible.
♡ he even made it all sweet and lit some candles (":
♡ he constantly is getting consent and checking in on you. "you feelin' okay?" "jus' tell me to stop if you don't like it." "want me to keep goin'?" "tell me what you want, sweetheart." "this feels good, yeah?"
♡ when he's fully inside you, he strokes your hair and kisses you multiple times. "see, wasn't so bad," he teases gently.
♡ with price, it's really not awkward at all. he doesn't let it be. he's so sweet and considerate the whole time. when he's thrusting inside you, he checks to make sure he's not going too hard.
♡ and he knows the sex will only get better, so he tells you not to worry if you don't finish alongside him. and you don't finish with him, but he makes sure to get you off after.
♡ he holds himself inside you after he comes, grunting and panting above you. then he looks down at you. "i wanna feel you come on my cock, love." you look a bit confused and he starts rubbing your clit, keeping himself planted inside you. with the pressure of the situation over, you're much more relaxed and apt to orgasm. so it doesn't take you long to spasm around him, and he fucking loves it. "god, you feel amazing, princess." and he looks at you with such admiration as you catch your breath and come down from your high.
♡ "it will only get better from here," he teases.
♡ after he pulls out and gets up, he scoops you up too, making you squeal. he carries the two of you to the bathroom to shower and clean up. he washes your hair. helps you put your clothes on (making sure it's his stuff you're wearing) and pulls you into bed with him, his arm wrapped around you.
SOAP *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧
♡ johnny has no issue with it at all. he really thinks nothing of it. he didn't care if you were a virgin or not, so when you tell him, all it does is lets him know he needs to be a bit slower with you. and you truly appreciate him not making a big deal about it.
♡ it'd probably happen one time when you two are making out on the couch. things get a little heated and his hands are all over you. he gropes your breast through your shirt and you moan in his mouth. he pushes you back on the couch and teases your shirt up. "j-johnny," you say between kisses.
"yes, lass?"
"you remember i'm a virgin, right?"
"mhm," he kisses you again. "did you want me t'stop?"
"n-no," you whine as he rubs a hand over your clothed clit. "i just don't want to disappoint you."
he looks at you in annoyance. "what? why would ya disappoint me?" he sees the shy look in your eyes like you're a bit ashamed. "lass, you could never disappoint me. i just want you. but if you don't wanna do anything, that's okay too." he kisses your nose and caresses the side of your face.
♡ with that out of the way, you tell him you do want to. he promises to go slow. and he does. he asks how you want it. you can ride him if that would make you more comfortable, being able to control the pace and all.
♡ you straddle him on the couch, soap's hands running all across your torso. squeezing and cupping your breast. gliding over your ribcage. going down to your ass and pulling you forward.
♡ you're slow when you lower yourself on him and johnny's head falls to the back of the couch, trying to contain himself. "you feel so good," he whines out.
♡ lots and lots of little praises. he wants to make sure you're comfortable and enjoying yourself. "that's it, love." "fuckin' hell, you’re takin’ me so well." "does it feel good?"
♡ and he'll rub your clit with his thumb, smiling as you collapse into him, your arms around his neck as you continue to bounce on top of him.
♡ you're definitely pleased when you orgasm around him, sending soap over the edge as well.
♡ then he kisses you, runs his hand through your hair, and pulls you into his lap where he'll tell you how good you were, how much he loved that. and he'll make sure you had a nice time too. wanting to make sure you feel good about yourself.
ALEJANDRO *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧
♡ gets a little bit of sick satisfaction knowing he’s going to have been the only one to have had you. “gettin’ you all for myself, then, mi amor?”
♡ even though he’s thoroughly enjoyed sex for years and has developed a taste for what he likes and dislikes, he’s charmed to be with someone who is so new at this. it’s a new experience for him in that sense.
♡ he definitely wants you comfortable before he tries anything, BUT, he goes absolutely fucking feral when he gets you to blush and act all shy and awkward. gets off embarrassing you. “you want me to fuck that tight little cunt of yours?” he says. your eyes widen and your cheeks get hot/flush. “a-alejandro” you whimper, a bit startled at his dirty mouth. “hmm? did you think my teasing stopped at the bedroom?” he winks.
♡ “tell me how you want it, mi amor. do you want my cock?” you nod sheepishly. “uh-uh,” he scolds. “gotta use your words.” you turn your face away from him in embarrassment. “yes.” “yes what?” “yes, i want your cock.” your entire body is on fire and alejandro grins madly. he never would have thought innocence would turn him on so much.
♡ but he’s really quite sweet in the moment. even though he does tease you quite a bit, he’s always reading your body and making sure he’s not hurting you and that you’re enjoying yourself. “just tell me if you want me to stop,” he says down at you. “okay?” he asks. you nod, “okay.” “esa es mi buena chica.” that’s my good girl.
♡ even though his is being careful, he can't help but get turned on when your nails are digging into his back and your face is scrunched up. "it's so much," you whimper out. that honestly sends him over the edge. he gets a little sense of pride knowing how intense everything was for you -- and for him.
♡ he makes sure you're not hurt once everything is done and he cleans you up and holds you close to him.
KÖNIG *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧
♡ you were a bit nervous to tell him, so you kinda waited until the last minute.
♡ könig had you pinned beneath him, leaving a trail of kisses along your neck, making you giggle. after he’s torn your clothes off and is back to attacking your lips, you break away to mumble at him. “i’ve… never done this before,” you said shyly. he looks at you, his eyes flickering between yours. “is this okay? do you want me to stop?” you shake your head. “no, no. i just wanted you to know.” he smiles and kisses you again.
♡ he’s okay with being your first, but it definitely makes him a bit nervous. he knows he’s going to have to be the one to take control of the situation, figuring you might be a bit shy/awkward and not know how to lead. but he’s okay with that.
♡ he also doesn’t want to hurt you. my guy is 6’7” so i mean… he’s got a big dick, i’m sure of it—he told me himself. he makes you orgasm like 4 times beforehand, absolutely tiring you out, but also making you relaxed and more ready for him.
♡ he’s planted between your legs and you're still panting from your last orgasm, and he lines himself up. “m’gonna go slow,” he tells you. you nod and he slowly enters you. your hands grip his shoulders tightly, already feeling the pressure of him stretching you out. (and even if you weren’t a virgin, it would still be like this tbh. size kink initiated)
♡ it takes a few minutes for him to bottom out. he does little half thrusts with only part of him inside you, trying to ease his way in. “i don’t think you can fit,” you whine out. “you can take it, liebling. jus’ a little—ungh—furtherrrrr—fuck,” he groans as he fills you completely. you’re whimpering under him, but mostly in pleasure.
♡ he catches his breath before asking you if he can move. you nod. he kisses your lips, mumbling against you, “i’ll be gentle.” he begins to rock into you.
♡ and he is. he’s slow and soft with you, mumbling praises. he tries his hardest to get you to give him another orgasm, rubbing your clit. you whine and squirm under him. you trust him so much that you’re actually relaxed enough to orgasm your first time with him.
♡ he’s stopped moving inside you so he can focus solely on rubbing your clit. finally, you clamp down on him and come. you’re so breathtakingly beautiful under him, squeezing him so fucking tight, that könig orgasms right then and there, without even having to move. both of you are a little shocked and you end up giggling.
♡ he lays on top of you, resting his head on your chest, his hands wrapped around you, while you stroke his hair. he leaves a little trail of kisses on your skin and you both lay there for a bit, content and entangled together.
GAZ *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧
♡ gaz is a bit baffled about what to do. like he gives off hot shit energy, but when you tell him he’d be your first, he gets flustered. he feels pressured to make sure it’s good since he will be your first impression of sex.
♡ you end up having to tell him to calm down. “kyle, oh my god, it’s fine! it doesn’t have to be perfect. i just want it to be with you.” and that definitely relaxes him a bit. he just doesn’t wanna ruin this for you. it’s actually quite sweet.
♡ he’s on the bed, on top of you, kissing you and slowly stripping both of your clothing. when you’re both in underwear he makes an offer. “did you wanna be on top, love?” you give him an unsure look. “idk, i'm not really sure what i’m doing,” you say shyly, playing with the chain around his neck as it dangles above you. gaz rolls over and takes you with him. “you don’t havta if you don’t wanna, but this way you get to control everything. because shit… idk how well i’m gonna be able to control myself once i’m in you.” your face goes red hot.
♡ you take him up on his offer and stay straddling him. you let him help you line yourself up with him and you sink down ever so slowly, gritting your teeth as you do. gaz has his hands on your hips, panting as you take him teasingly slow. “that’s it, baby,” he encourages.
♡ your hands rest on his chest, sitting slightly forward as you take your time sinking down all the way. once you’re fully seated, gaz let’s out a guttural grunt, his eyes squeezed shut, his voice strained, “fuck—yeah, good t-thing you’re leadin’ this because with how fuckin’ good ya feel, i'd be tempted to fuckin' plow right into you.” his words leave you slightly embarrassed. gaz opens his eyes and looks at you lovingly. “ugh, you’re a fuckin’ dream,” he groans.
♡ not only does his words make you more excited, but it makes you more confident. you begin to move up and down, putting your weight on your hands. gaz hands grip your hips tightly in his fingers, clawing at you as you ride him.
♡ after several minutes of this, he rolls you under him making you squeal. “i can’t hold back any longer,” he says as he slides out of you and thrusts back in. he definitely does it more powerfully than you were, but it doesn’t hurt. it feels good letting him do the work. he buries his head in your neck, “jus’ let me know if i’m going to fast.”
♡ it isn’t much longer until you’re squeezing around him, making him groan and grunt wildly. just hearing him like that, knowing it’s you causing it, has you spilling over the edge. the way you tighten around him sends him over the edge as well.
♡ you’re both panting as he lays beside you, pulling you into him. “jesus,” he murmurs.
“i always thought it was supposed to kinda suck for women the first time,” you said. gaz looks down at you, running his fingers in your hair, and laughs. you both begin giggling, both ecstatic and feeling amazing. you’ve never felt closer to him in that moment.
♡ gaz couldn’t believe how good it felt to have you coming with him and he's so excited, he's rolling you under him, asking if you're ready for round two.
#ghost#simon riley#ghost smut#ghost x reader#simon riley x reader#cod#cod headcanons#simon riley smut#ghost headcanon#ghost cod#ghost fanfic#simon riley fanfic#kyle garrick smut#ghost mw2#ghost call of duty#fluff#angst#ghost angst#cod mw2#smut#alejandro vargas#johnny mactavish#soap#soap cod#captain price#john price#alejandro varggas headcanon#captain price headcanons#soap headcanons#kyle gaz garrick
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PARK JONGSEONG! --- as your next door neighbor
🥽—warnings 18+ hard thought, oral (f. receiving), overstimulation, teasing, masturbation, listening in on masturbation, jay's kinda nasty, pussy whipped!jay, horny simp!jay
📼—author's note this is my first work with even minor plot in it on here. hope you guys enjoy this bc ive been feenin for jay all week long. so sorry that this is in lapslock! it was originally a drabble but it got long and i was too lazy to change it.
🎀—w/c 2,000~
⠀⠀ ⠀myslut masterlist
JAY had moved into the apartment next to yours almost a half a year ago. although he's really only seen you is passing, he thinks you're a good neighbor for the most part—you don't bother him, only greeting him with simply waves when you see him in the hall, and you're not a party person either. in fact he thinks you could be the perfect neighbor, the only problem being your little habit. actually, the things he hears at night from your room might be a major problem, but not in a bad way.
occasionally, every now and then he comes home from work in the later hours of the night, to hear you moaning. it could be past midnight but you're still going. you're so fucking loud about it too, sounds of muffled whimpers slipping through the walls. at this point you probably haven't missed a single night, it's like you've got to want him to know. his only secret show.
and his imagination runs wild. whether you're fucking yourself on a dildo or fingering yourself, he has no idea. sometimes, when he can hear you, he wonders if he could get you to shut up with his fingers in your mouth. wonders if you get off to the idea of him and probably everyone else on your fucking floor being able to hear you. wonders if your own fingers really are any good and if you'd want his to help out that pretty cunt. because jay just knows that you're an absolute whore, can hear it in every squeal.
he's so obsessed with you and he can't help it. even now he's started to jerk off to your sounds too, small moans fueling all of the nasty thoughts that run through your head. fist wrapped around his fat, veiny cock as he strokes himself in tandem with your moans. it's not even enough, he needs to fuck something. and something, is you.
so, he sets a plan into action. seducing you. he knocks on your door the around ten the night after, thinking to at least just meet you under the guise that he's made too much dinner and has leftovers to share.
and there you are, swinging open the door. his already hard cock stirs harder when he sees you, standing behind the door. you're flustered and disheveled, clad in just shorts and a tee. your shorts are hiked up on your ass and he can see your swollen nipples peaking through your shirt. he must've 'interrupted' you, because you look like you slipped them on in a hurry after hearing him knock. fucking jackpot.
"can i help you– oh, hi?" you say, obviously not expecting him, nor noticing the way jay is running his eyes over your figure. you lean one arm against the door frame, making eye contact right as he glances up from your tits to talk to you. "you're my neighbor, jay, right?"
of course you remember him, duh. there's no way you fuck yourself that loudly every single night if you don't want someone to know. at this point the only thing that's confusing to him is why his name's never left your mouth.
"yeah, i'm next door alright." he nods. he shuffles so that the tray of leftovers hides his boner. he's got what he wanted already, now thinking if he should just leave the tray with you and be on his way, maybe come back and ask for it tomorrow. but before he can even say anything, you beckon him invite him in with a wave of your hand.
"actually...it'd be great if you could bring it in and have some with me," you say, "unless you already ate? sorry, it smells so good but i don't think i could finish it myself."
heaven has got to be listening in on this conversation because jay's never been this lucky. even when he won a hundred bucks betting on jake—who's an absolute wildcard in monopoly, jay knows better than to put money on him again—he swears he was not this lucky.
not even fifteen minutes later and he's sitting at your dinner table. he seats himself while you're grabbing two plates and put everything together. you have no idea how hard he is right now, how badly he wants to go home and jerk off to the memory of you. but he's holding in it, pressing his palm against his erection with the hope that it'll be enough to soothe him for now. it obviously isn't.
he somehow makes it through dinner, eventually making small talk with you. you get along rather well with him, shooting bratty quips to match his quick comments. you don't even mind when his knee bumps into yours, moving until it's touching your thigh.
he trades numbers with you and soon seeing each other is routine. he brings over a plate of food for you to try at least once every week, usually over a movie or a board game. you even introduce him to a couple of friends, who he glares horribly at whenever he think they're to close to you. although you never seem to notice, he knows that one guy wants you just as bad as he does, can see it in the way he looks at you.
which makes sense, as you are also currently single, jay soon finds out. he had already thought so, but a small part of him was also worried that there could be a someone. someone who you let hold onto your bare hips and fuck your pussy when jay could be doing that. when jay should be doing that.
and when he gets back to his apartment after one particularly touchy movie night, you really let him know that. he doesn't think you've ever sounded this loud, this needy. he's on the other side of the wall, groaning as he teases his angry, red tip to the sounds you're making. right now, he could be taking care of you, fucking you hard into your mattress. he dreams about it every fucking night. he pulls out his phone, opening your contact and typing with one hand as he squeezes his cock.
damn ur loud lol
he tosses his phone to the side, watches as it lands across his mattress, screen facing up. he's seriously about to cum, core tightening just as his head falls back. the sounds of your moans have quieted, but he hasn't noticed yet, strokes speeding up.
yh i know
come ovr
jay's hand falters as he registers the texts, neck straining to reread because there's no fucking way you just sent that. he double checks. triple checks.
fuck.
he's crawled off his bed in less than three seconds, pulling his sweats up and throwing on a shirt before heading out to hall. when he gets there, he doesn't even have to open the door. you're already flinging it open, coming face to face with him in the door frame.
jay's flustered, pupils big and cheeks painted a soft red. he looks at you, looks down at your hands, wrapped around the door knob, and back at you. he swears every time he sees you, you're in less clothing. panties and a tee. are you trying to kill him? "fuck, that wasn't to the wrong person or shi–"
you shut him up by pulling him by the strings of his sweats, dragging him into your apartment. closing the door, you spin both of you around so that you're pressed up against the door. "no mistake." you hum, looking into his eyes.
"fucking hell, really?" he asks, eyes wide and glossy as he stares back. he's so close, could press his mouth to the corner of your lips if he wanted to be romantic. could stick his tongue in his mouth and mix his spit with yours if he wanted to be nasty.
“so i was right. you were listening to me fuck myself." you coo, giving him pouty lips as you press your leg against his cock, hard underneath his sweats.
there's a choked up noise that spills out of his throat at your words. he can't admit to that, fuck. even if it's already obvious. he watches your tongue run over you bottom lip, coating it with slick spit. "think you're any better than my toys?"
jay's on you in a second, dropping down to his knees. he presses his face against your panties, rubbing his nose in between your inner thighs. you're already soaking yourself and he can taste it, dragging his tongue along the the crotch of the fabric. "so much fucking better."
his eyes roll back so far when you slide a hand into his hair, tugging him closer to you. he's impossibly hard, dick leaking precum inside of his sweats when he hears the way you murmur a little "jay, please."
and jay wants nothing more than to please you and taste the pussy that's haunted him for weeks. he pulls your panties down, lifting your legs up one by one to take them off. chucking them to a random, pressing his lips right above your cunt before he looks up at you.
this is the man who's wanted you for a damn long time now. who spent nearly every night edging himself to the noises you let slip into his apartment through the walls. who jerked himself off in your bathroom when you got to close on movie nights. who fucking dreamt about you riding his cock till he can't cum anymore.
he fucks his tongue into your cunt, loving the way your thighs suffocate him. his mouth vibrates every time he moans into your cunt.
all the nights he spent in his bed, poor cock between his hand were nothing compared to this. the way you squeal when his nose bumps into your clit, making you rut your hips into face.
"fuck, right there," you cry out, feeling jay's hand snake up your leg to grab your ass cheek. he palms your ass, pushes you further onto his mouth. he's so fucking good at it, eats you out like you're the last meal he's had in days.
there's a dark look in his glossy eyes when he looks up at you, speech muffled as he speaks into your core. "this pussy's fucking perfect." he mutters, diving right back into you.
you let him work, lapping up your arousal, his eyes never looking away from your face even once. "look at me baby." he says, tone stern. one glance down and you can't fucking help the your fist tightens in his hair at the sight of him; dragging his tongue along your inner thigh. delighted in the way you squirm, he sucks a hickey against a patch of skin that's gone wet from the messy way he's been eating you out. "mmm...just like that."
you pout at the loss when his mouth separates from your cunt, begging him to start up again. "jay please, i'm so fucking close."
"just knew you were damn needy." he murmur. it earns a whimper from you, and that's enough to get jay to attach himself back to your cunt. you don't even notice when his free hand drops to fist his his swollen cock, pumping his length the same way he does every other night.
when you cum, it's overwhelming, messy, and wet. you're fucking crying, and even then jay's not pulling off, letting you choke him with your thighs tight around his head. his own cock aches, pent up from earlier. it only takes one more sound from you before he cums, hard, hand all over his hand.
he comes off your cunt with slowly, like he could have buried his face between your legs for hours if he really wanted to. his face is mess sticky mess of cum, and you can feel the soft blow of his breath against your inner thigh.
hiccuping, you watch the way he cleans himself decently enough with the back of his hand, licking your juices off of his skin. "so much better than just hearing you baby."
#enhypen smut#enha smut#jay smut#jongseong smut#jay x reader#jongseong x reader#enha x reader#enhypen x reader#park jongseong smut#park jongseong x reader#🥽—✩ enhypen
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Miguel O’Hara hitting it from the back?
Miguel loves nothing more the seeing you desperately clenching the ruined sheets, drool and tears staining the pillow while your legs share from the brute force of him sinking his cock into your pussy. Your hand works your clit up until he takes your wrists and pins them against your back, "Ah-ah. Bad girl, trying to be sneaky and orgasm without my permission." His claws dig into your skin, your wrists and your thigh as you whine and moan and thrust your hips backwards, feeling his cock hitting you deep. "So tiny but so needy. You know what you want don't you? I can give it to you." His fangs drag slowly against the lobe of your ear, his muscular body heating you up. "Want to come. Need it. Miguel please." His cock stirs inside you, his growling growing louder as you admit it. "Such a good girl for me." Miguel's hands pull you back by your wrists, making you unable to do anything but take his thrusts, his hard cock, your body snapping with pleasure, puffy pussy walls milking him dry. "I want all of that to end up here." One of his hands presses against your lower stomach, the meaning not lost on you as he pulls out, your fingers fucking the cum back in for his hungry eyes to see.
#miguel o'hara#miguel o’hara x you#miguel o’hara x reader#miguel o’hara x y/n#miguel o’hara smut#miguel o’hara spiderverse#spiderverse fanfic#spiderverse smut#spiderverse x reader#spiderverse x you#across the spiderverse#sony spiderverse#spiderman 2099 spiderverse#miguel spiderverse
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Sleepwalkin'
written for @steddiemicrofic april prompt ‘fool’ wc: 454 | rated: T | cw: implied sexual content | read on ao3
🛌🛌🛌
Eddie stirs at the sound of shuffling footsteps and gets jolted awake as Steve drops face-first onto the bed.
"Mhmph. Where've you been?"
"Sleepwalkin'."
"Do anything fun?"
"I got into bed with Wayne." He mumbles into the pillow.
"Wait. What?!" Eddie sits up with a crazed grin, suddenly wide awake, "Steve, sweetheart, that's fucking hilarious."
"Yeah, Wayne thought so too," He rolls onto his side to face Eddie," I, on the other hand, am slightly mortified."
"Baby, I'm sorry but that is actually so funny. What did he say when he woke you up?"
"That's the thing! He didn't! So I obviously woke him up when I, y'know crawled into his bed and cuddled up to him-"
"You cuddled him?! Stevie, be careful, that's the most action he's gotten in years, he's gonna fall in love with you!"
"Fuck off," He reaches across to slap Eddie's shoulder, "Anyway, he just left me to sleep! I woke up to him snoring with his arm around me, and I was so fucking confused."
"How long were you there? I woke up earlier and you were gone but I just thought you were in the bathroom or something. Didn’t realise you’d deserted me."
"Probably like half the fucking night. I went back to sleep after I’d woken up because his bed’s comfier than yours. I only came back in because he went to work and I got cold."
"Is a bed warmer all I am to you, Stevie?" Eddie pouted, "I thought you loved me for my wit and charm and dashingly good looks, not because I keep you toasty."
"I love you for many reasons, including how warm you run, but if you don't like it," Steve shrugged, "I guess I'll have to go to Wayne next time I'm cold. I'm sure he'll warm me up."
"Please don't leave me for my Uncle."
"Well, you better give me a good reason to stay then."
"Nobody can go down on you as well as I can."
"Oh really? Might have to let you prove that you’re the best then."
Eddie just smirks as he slides down the bed.
—
Wayne’s just gotten home from work when Eddie clears his throat and nudges Steve in the ribs.
"Stevie. Don’t you have something to say to Wayne?"
"Huh? Oh, right," Steve looks at Wayne as sincerely as he can possibly manage right now, "I’m so sorry, Wayne, but we were fools to think it’d work out between us. I’ll never forget our wonderful night together though."
"Well shucks, son, you’re breakin’ my dang heart here but I guess I just gotta move on," Wayne gives Steve a wink, "You know where to find me if you change ya mind."
#i worked very hard to squeeze in the joke prompt words in this lmao#steve harrington#eddie munson#wayne munson#uncle wayne#uncle wayne my beloved#steddie#steve x eddie#stranger things#steddiemicrofic#steddiemicroficapril#bigboywrites#mine
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Leftovers [1/3]
Simon Riley x fem!Reader | a non-canon addition to my mafia!141 series |
part 2 | part 3
warnings: unhealthy thrupple relationship, hurt/some comfort, slight dub-con, possessive Simon, smut, (f!recieving oral, fingering, p in v) 6.5k wc
Mr. and Mrs. Price don't know how to take care of you properly. Simon is hellbent on saving you, no matter the means.
The first and only rule that came with living with the Prices was that no matter how much you thought otherwise, they didn’t really love you.
It didn’t matter how sweetly Mrs. Price kissed your forehead, her lips would never grace yours, and despite how deliciously Mr. Price would pump his fingers into your cunt he would never bless you with the opportunity to take his cock. Above all else, they first belonged to one another before ever belonging to you. All you were good for was being their sweet little pet, nothing but a catalyst for their pleasure; their favorite aphrodisiac.
There were worse things in the world to be, and being a pet wasn’t all that bad. The Prices kept a roof over your head and gave you meals at least three times a day, if not more. Every now and then while Mr. Price was away at work, you and Mrs. Price would fall asleep on the couch together. Hours later you would wake up with your head on her chest, but you wouldn’t dare to stir her awake because the sound of her heart beating was more captivating than anything that droned on the television.
But she would always wake up when Mr. Price came home, and she’d drag you off to the bedroom where they’d strip you bare like some spectacle. Mrs. Price’s lips would devour every inch of your skin, kissing your neck, chest, and breasts; kissing everything except for you. Meanwhile, Mr. Price would fuck his fingers into you and growl every time his wife giggled at your moans. His cock would harden in his pants, a sight that you would never be able to see, and just as you came undone on his fingers his lips would always find their way to her instead of you.
They would laugh and giggle as you squirmed underneath them and coo about how adorable you were. How soft and pliant you were for them, such a good and well behaved pet. They would kiss your body a few more times before tucking you in for the night and leaving you alone to do their own lovemaking elsewhere. That’s how it always ended. Always the lover, never the loved, but that was okay. At least you weren’t alone.
Things started changing when Mr. Riley showed up.
He showed up at the house one day by invitation from Mr. Price and nearly scared you half to death. Like a ghost, he seemingly appeared in the living room one evening and took up all the space on the loveseat. Perhaps that’s what had intimidated you at first, just the sheer size of him. He stood taller than Mr. Price did, and the bulging muscles of his body was proof he could rip you in half if he so pleased. Then there were the faded scars on his face, the ruggedness of his features and the piercing expression in his dark brown eyes. He looked at you like you were a meal ready to be eaten. Or, maybe you just wished that he would.
Mr. Riley was a quiet man, you learned. He hardly spoke throughout dinner and when he did he was rather short and blunt with his responses. Though he was a man of few words, everything he said seemed to have some sort of meaning. There was something about his voice that made the hair on the back of your neck stand on end and you nearly choked on your food at the sensation. It wasn’t at all unpleasant, and if anything the deep timbre of his voice was rather soothing, and you liked the teasing nature of his banter with Mr. Price. Perhaps you enjoyed it too much.
There must have been something about the way you looked at Mr. Riley that caught attention. Truly, you meant no harm by it. Art littered his arms in the form of dark tattoos that you couldn't pull your eyes from because you had never seen ink cover the skin of someone so beautifully before. Never seen anyone quite capture the well formed muscle and veins like had been done on Mr. Riley’s arms. And really, the scars on his face and his crooked nose intrigued you. There were stories waiting to be uncovered, literature that hid behind the depths of his eyes. You just wanted to read it. That was all it was, you swore it.
After plates had been cleaned and the table was cleared away, you learned you were not as subtle as you thought you were with your minor infatuation with your guest. Not even your intense stare at the TV screen as you pretended to pay attention to the movie Mrs. Price had picked out was able to throw suspicion off of you. Just as you had gotten settled on the sectional next to Mr. Price, you felt a hand rest on your shoulder, quickly followed by a hot breath on your ear.
“Pet,” Mr. Price whispered, “my friend looks lonely over there. Why don’t you keep him company?”
His proposition made you tense against his side and he chuckled at your failed attempt at keeping cool. Keep Mr. Riley company? Once more your eyes found their way to him and you felt your throat tighten at the thought. Were you supposed to sit by him? Entertain him? No, that felt wrong. You belonged to the Prices, not their friend. Then again, you were instructed to keep the man company, and good pets do as they’re told.
Without so much as a word you rose from your spot on the sectional and quickly made your way to the loveseat Mr. Riley had settled himself on. It was difficult not to fall into the gravity of him when you sat next to him as his weight shifted the cushions, giving you no choice but to all but lean into him. You heard his quiet hum in surprise, as if he hadn’t expected you to just so blatantly sit next to him. You caught him look at you for a short moment, but you kept your eyes glued to the TV as if he was never there to begin with, and eventually he looked away.
Embarrassment. It was the only word you could think of to describe how you felt sitting next to that man. Conversing with others wasn’t exactly your forte, it’s why you agreed to throw your old life away when Mrs. Price invited you into a relationship with her and her husband. They would take care of you, and you wouldn’t have to be perceived and go out and about in the world. They knew full well of that; perhaps that was their way of having some fun with you.
Things were fine until halfway through the movie when Mr. Riley put his arm around you. There was nothing you could do but fall against his side as his firm hand settled against your waist. He held you close to him as if he had no intention of letting you go, and yet acted as if he had never done so in the first place as his attention stayed fully trained on whatever boring movie droned in the background. Blood gushed in your ears and panic settled into your chest. Surely that had broken some sort of rule, and yet when you glanced over to the Price’s with wide eyes, you realized that they couldn’t even care less.
So you took a deep breath in some attempt to calm yourself, and once the blood settled in your veins, you realized that you could hear Mr. Riley’s heart. Each beat was strong and steady as if it had never wavered throughout its entire existence, and its reverberations were so strong you could feel it pulse throughout your own body. You took another deep breath, this time more content, and realized you rather liked the smell of him too. Some sort of dark, soft aroma mixed with the faint scent of cigarettes. It was comforting, perhaps the most calm you had felt in a long while.
“Cute, isn’t she?”
It wasn’t until Mrs. Price spoke that you realized you had fallen asleep like that, tucked into the side of a man you hardly knew. Cold hands pulled you away from the warmth that was Mr. Riley, and half awake you were brought to your room without the chance to glance at him from over your shoulder. Despite it all, Mrs. Price cooed at you while she laid you down in your bed and tugged the blankets over your body with a simple kiss to your forehead.
“Goodnight, pet,” she cooed before closing the door behind her.
That night you fell asleep alone in your cold bed while dreaming about the warmth Mr. Riley had given you. It was something you could only ever pray for when craving something from the Prices, and yet he had given it to you so willingly, as if you didn’t deserve anything less. Maybe it was unfair of you to compare the people who had given you so much to a man who you hardly knew. Friendly. That’s all he was. But it didn’t end there. Every time Mr. Price invited him over, he always directed you to Mr. Riley’s side eventually, talking about how lonely he looked, or that you should be a good host to him.
Soon enough it got to the point where you didn’t even need prompting; you already knew your place was next to Mr. Riley. Curled against his side, hanging off his arm, even sitting on his lap, in one instance. Each touch that he gave you seared across your skin, but it was always respectful, nearly too respectful. Fingertips always gliding along your waist but never dipping low enough to caress your hips or grope your ass, nor high enough to brush against the underside of your breasts. His touch always left you craving more, and yet that was something he didn’t seem to intend on giving you.
He did, however, give you a new name. Sweetheart, he called you. It was something he whispered to you at first from the safety of the confines of his arms, as if he worried Mr. Price would overhear him and reprimand him for it. Then he became a bit more brave. He called you sweetheart when he asked you to pass him the salt at dinner, and then again when you eventually fell asleep on the couch and he offered to carry you to your room. Some strange part of you wished he stayed with you that night, but you knew that thought alone made you a bad pet, wanting anyone other than the people you belonged to.
But the thing was, the more warmth Mr. Riley showed you, the colder the Price's home felt, because even after all that time, it wasn’t really your home.
“Hey, sweetheart.”
Loud music and even louder people caged you into that VIP room, suffocating you to the point you nearly passed out. It didn’t help that Mrs. Price had dressed you up like her personal doll, slathering makeup on your face and throwing you in a skimpy dress, you hardly recognized yourself in the mirror. And still, despite it, Mr. Riley had found you and settled on the spot next to you in the conversation pit.
“Mr. Riley,” you greeted as you uncomfortably pulled at the skirt of your dress.
“Mrs. Price dress you up in that?” he asked.
You half expected him to wrap his arm around you like he did every other time the two of you were close to one another, but he didn’t. Perhaps there were too many prying eyes nearby and he didn’t want to spark any rumors. Either way, his presence alone was comforting enough. You always hated going to Mr. Price’s club, and that night was no exception. Too loud, too many eyes, you were always out of place.
“Was it that obvious?” you asked with a half-hearted chuckle.
“Just doesn’t seem like you,” he responded gruffly.
Of course not. Extravagant things weren’t meant for a pet. “Yeah. Probably not.”
Even from a distance you could still make out the faint scent of him. That warm musk mixed with tobacco had started to smell like home. And it was wrong, you were sure of it by that point. At what point did Mr. Riley become more comforting than the man and woman you lived with? But at that moment, with so many people crowding you, you didn’t care. Closing your eyes, you blocked out everything else around you except for him. There was no music, no mingling guests, no rancid scent of alcohol; it was just you and him.
Until the sudden sound of clapping brought you back to reality, anyway. Your eyes shot open and you were met with the same view as before, just more still. A quick glance around revealed everyone staring at Mr. and Mrs. Price, who stood at the front of the room, all cooing and cheering and clapping for them. They held one another as a few people rushed up to talk to them, where you heard squealing and several pats on the back. Confused, you turned to Simon with your head tilted to the side like a curious dog.
“What happened?” you asked.
With a simple nod of his head, Mr. Riley gestured up to the couple at the front of the room. “They just announced Mrs. Price’s pregnancy,” he said.
Those words left his mouth so simply. So nonchalantly. As if you should have known.
You should have known. But you didn’t. Because no matter how much you tried to convince yourself otherwise, they didn’t really love you.
You’d forgotten the first and only rule.
You didn’t know how you ended up on the terrace, you just stopped running when the cold night air hit your skin. Despite the way your tears muddled your vision, everything became painfully clear. This was their plan all along. To get pregnant, to start their life and continue it without you. It’s why they never kissed you, only ever played with you, refused to fuck each other in your presence; you were always meant to be disposable. Why continue to take care of a pet with a child on the way?
And it hurt because you knew you’d never have that. Never obtain that unconditional love, a kiss on the lips, a cock in your cunt, a child in your arms, because you had been the Price’s plaything. Their pet who never dared to bare her teeth. You’d never be the sweet little wife, only some poor, skittish animal that only knew how to play. But you craved it so bad you swore you’d die. You wanted to be someone’s wife, someone’s lover, to be loved, to have kids and a home that wasn’t cold as ice.
That life just wasn’t for you.
“You alright, sweetheart?”
Somehow, Mr. Riley always seemed to find you. It was as if some invisible string had been tied between the two of you, and no matter how knotted it got he would always make his way back to you. Unsure if you should welcome his presence or not, you kept your hands firmly on the terrace railing and your red eyes focused out on the city in front of you. Your tears blurred the sparkling lights so much that you could nearly confuse them with stars if you squinted hard enough, yet that realization did nothing to quell the anxiety and terror that ate away at your stomach.
“I’m alright,” you pitifully assured, although you weren’t too convincing.
Mr. Riley’s hand touched the exposed skin of your back where his thumb started to rub small circles into your flesh. You nearly crumbled at the contact as you were drowned in the overwhelming urge to throw yourself at him, to beg to be loved even if only for a short while. Instead, your grip on the railing only tightened as you focused all your energy into not letting another tear fall.
“John told me to watch you for the night. Take you back to my place,” he said softly.
His words weren’t surprising. Sending you off to spend the night with him was just the next step to getting rid of you. Why would they want you in the home when they’d have someone new to prepare for? You were certain your room would be turned into a nursery before long. After a moment, you turned to face him and you did your best to muster your strongest of smiles as you ignored the stinging behind your eyes. He looked at you with such pity that you nearly broke into tears once more.
“Lead the way.”
It had been so long since you had visited someone that you forgot what it was like to walk into a room and not have every inch of it memorized. Mr. Riley’s apartment was something you didn’t recognize, yet it wasn’t completely unfamiliar. In a vague sort of way, it smelled like him, and that was enough to calm your nerves and silence the pain that festered in your stomach. It was rather plain as far as decorations went, but it was cozy and warmer than anyplace else you had been for quite some time, and that was more than enough for you.
First order of business was getting you a glass of water, something Mr. Riley took care of right away. Such a small gesture, and yet it had your heart swelling in an odd and unfamiliar way. Still, you were thankful for something to soothe your sore throat, and the two of you sat in silence on the couch as he ensured that you drank every last drop.
“Do you wanna change into somethin’ more comfortable?” he questioned when you handed him your empty glass.
“I don’t… have a change of clothes,” you said meekly.
“You can wear some of mine,” he insisted.
Something within you wanted to decline. Wearing his clothes certainly broke some sort of rule, and you doubted that the Prices would be happy with you for it. But then there was a pang of sorrow that echoed throughout your chest, a painful reminder that you no longer belonged to them, and probably hadn’t for quite some time.
Like a lost dog, you followed behind Mr. Riley until you reached his bedroom. His bed was bigger than you had anticipated it to be, significantly bigger than yours, and it was well made. A dark duvet covered the expanse of the mattress, and when you sat on the edge of it you sunk into it as if it welcomed you home. Maybe if you laid back on it you could fall asleep and never have to face the painful truth of the reality you found yourself trapped in.
It didn’t take him long to fish out a simple shirt and a pair of drawstring shorts for you to change into, but when Mr. Riley turned to face you, it was as if he had turned to stone. Maybe it was the tear-smudged makeup stains on your face, or the fact that he hadn’t seen you look so content until you sat there on his bed, but he looked at you with such intense pity your chest ached. Eventually he got his body to listen to him and he carefully approached you and set the clothes on the mattress next to you.
“I’m sorry,” he said unprompted.
“For what?” you asked, eyebrows drawing together.
“That they abandoned you.”
Hearing it outloud was more excruciating than the initial realization. Abandoned. Tossed aside. Just a spare. Your chest ached so fiercely it felt as if your body split in two, and there was nothing you could do to stop the tears and sobs from flowing forth. It was pitiful and pathetic, and you hated how terribly small you felt. There were so many tears inside of you that you could wipe the earth clean with them, yet as you cried you didn’t feel any less dirty or used.
Then the bed sunk down next to you, and instead of sitting on the mattress you had been scooped up into Mr. Riley’s arms and into his lap. His arms were the only thing that held you together in that moment, and he carefully tucked you underneath his chin and squeezed all the sorrow from your body. A cautious kiss pressed into the top of your head, slow and wary as if the very act itself was forbidden. When you didn’t protest, he kissed again, and then again, as if he couldn’t get enough. It was the closest thing to being loved you ever felt, and that realization only broke you further.
“I just… I just wanted what they have,” you admitted once your sobs had dwindled to small hiccups. “I always thought that they’d let me be a part of it eventually. But I’ve been waiting so long and then… then they get pregnant without telling me and I realized I’ll never be good enough. Never enough to be kissed, or held, or loved. That’s all I wanted.”
After placing one final kiss against the top of your head, Mr. Riley carefully moved your face away from his chest to tilt your head up to force you to look at him. Irritated from crying, your eyes were a bright pink shade, and so terribly swollen you had difficulty opening them fully. Still, his thumb smoothed over your mascara-stained cheek and you felt his grip grow tighter around you.
“You deserve so much more than what they did to you,” he whispered, his whisky scented breath fanned across your face. “They were selfish, yeah? Dunno how they could be. First time I laid eyes on you I wanted you. Wanted to love you, to prove that you’re worthy of it.”
A few more fat tears rolled down your cheeks at his words just for him to quickly wipe them away. You had never received such kind and comforting words from anyone before, least of all the Prices. But his words held meaning, you knew they did. How could he look at you so softly and lie? No, it was impossible. His words were true and you could feel your want grow in the dark cavern of your stomach.
“Mr. Riley…” you said at a loss for anything to say.
“Simon,” he corrected. “Say my name and I’m all yours, sweetheart. I’ll give you that love, that life, you deserve.”
Maybe it was wrong to want him as badly as you did. Something dark and primal inside of you craved him and every inch of his tattooed skin, and yet you felt shame for feeling so. But why? You had been abandoned. A bit of comfort was the least bit you deserved.
“Simon,” you whispered.
His lips crashed into yours not even a second later, and the feeling nearly had you sobbing into his mouth. It felt so pure, so overwhelming. Finally, you could taste someone. Taste the spice of whiskey and the smoke of cigarettes rather than just the salt from your tears. By instinct your arms wrapped around his neck and you pulled yourself closer to him as if you wouldn’t be satisfied until you were nestled in the warmth of his chest inside of his ribcage.
Eventually, your bodies collided with the mattress and you found yourself caged in by Simon’s arms as he hovered over you. His tongue slipped into your mouth and you felt him groan into you like he had never had such a tasty meal. Then his lips began to wander, and he kissed along your jawline, neck, and further down to your stomach. It was the first time someone kissed your body and it felt like you were being given something rather than having something taken away.
“So gorgeous,” he whispered against your stomach. His hands dipped underneath the short skirt of your dress and pushed it up over your hips, exposing your panties. You let out a shaky breath as he kissed your clit through your underwear, and you realized you had never had someone’s mouth on you like that before. “Wanna taste you, sweetheart. Tell me I can.”
It was strange to have someone ask permission before doing something with you, and you felt your throat grow dry at the thought. Strange emotions swirled like a storm in your head where sorrow mixed with desire among other terrible conflicting emotions, and all you could muster was a simple nod. You just wanted it all to stop, for him to take away the pain no matter the cost.
“Need you to use your words,” Simon mumbled against your heat.
“Yes!” you spoke. The word erupted out of you with little regard for any of those confusing feelings muddling your mind. “Please…”
With a swift yank Simon pulled your panties past the swell of your hips and you raised your legs into the air to let him pull them fully off of you. After tossing them somewhere behind him, he lowered himself onto the mattress and kissed your cunt once more, this time fully bare, which sent a jolt throughout your body. He hardly gave himself the time to admire your body before his tongue began to greedily swipe along your clit. It felt so foreign and unfamiliar yet so intense you found your legs instinctively squeezing shut. Simon only chuckled against you as he pressed his hands on the inside of your thighs to keep himself from suffocating too soon.
There was nothing you could do to stop the way your back arched off the bed in pure bliss. Already he had given you more pleasure in a few moments than you had received in your entire relationship with the Prices, and you bit into your lip as you mumbled out sweet nothings into the heavy air above you. Once you had grown wet enough with his spit and your own arousal, Simon carefully slipped a finger into your heat and you gasped at the sensation. You had never felt so full before and your muscles pulsed around him in greedy response. Despite all the pain and heartache you experienced that night, nothing could drown out the overwhelming mantra of more that reverberated throughout your entire body.
When Simon pulled away from you, your first instinct was to sit up and pull him back to you, but you paused when you saw the way he looked at you. Dark, heavy eyes pierced through you, and you watched in awe as he sat back and slid his shirt off his body in one swift motion. He was so big. Hardened muscle covered with a thick layer of skin and healthy layer of fat, he collapsed on top of you where his lips were on yours once more. His taste was different this time. It wasn’t just whiskey and cigarettes. There was this earthy sapor mixed with it, and it took you a moment to realize that you tasted yourself on his lips.
Then something ripped. Threads of cloth tore a part, and you realized you could no longer feel the dress around your body anymore. Whatever clothing you had worn had been replaced by Simon’s chest pressing against yours, and the skin to skin contact made your head spin.
“Don’t need that anymore,” Simon mumbled against your lips. “Don’t need anythin’ of theirs anymore, yeah?”
You nodded in agreement until you remembered what he said earlier about using your words. “Yeah,” you breathed.
His lips descended down to the soft tissue of your neck while he started to grind his hips against yours. The rough fabric of his jeans were all too stimulating against your needy and swollen clit, and you whined into Simon’s neck as you writhed underneath him.
“Do you want more?” he asked as he continued to grind his hardening bulge against your sex. “I’ll give you anythin’. Just gotta ask for it.”
“You,” you blurted out without so much as a second thought. “Please Simon, I need you.”
There was no more time to waste. With one hand, Simon reached down and unzipped his pants where he released his painfully hardened cock. You felt as he teasingly ran his leaky tip along your slit, smearing precum against you until he carefully dipped down into your hole. Hardly even an inch inside of you and you realized he was significantly girthier than his fingers were, and you found your head falling back against the mattress with a moan at the stretch of him.
“So goddamn perfect,” Simon grunted as he continued to push deeper and deeper into you. “Gonna give you the whole world. Anythin’ you want. Deserve so much more than them, fuckin’ christ, sweetheart.”
More tears poured down your face by the time he bottomed out. It was all just too much, so much anguish and love melding into one confusing feeling in your mind. Yet Simon kissed away every single tear as he began to carefully thrust into you. Each time he moved in you an all consuming wave of pleasure rippled through your body, forcing moans to mix in with your cries in some sort of lamentable symphony.
“I know, I know,” Simon cooed as he placed a fat kiss against your cheek. “You’re mine now, yeah? My girl. Gonna treat you properly. I’ve got you, love.”
Through it all, he was so soft with you, so warm, and you felt that heat begin to pool in your stomach. Every thrust into you marked you, it scratched away the essence of everything the Prices had done to you, what they didn’t do to you. Every empty space that had collected dust inside of you was filled by Simon and the searing passion he pumped into you. That was all you had ever wanted. To be seen, to be touched, to be loved. You had finally found it.
When you came, you did so with a sob. Muscles seized and you wrapped your arms so tightly around Simon’s neck he had no choice but to collapse against your chest as he continued to thrust into you. Your tears soaked into his hair as you sloppily kissed the top of his head, body still craving more of him despite the endorphins that ravaged your body.
“There she is,” Simon sighed, his voice a low rumble. “Doin’ alright, sweetheart?”
“Please,” you begged. “I need it. Need you to come, please Simon.”
Your plea sent him toppling over the edge and he slammed his hips against you one final time before he held himself there with a thick and strained groan. His cock twitching inside you was an unfamiliar feeling and yet you relished the way he filled you, warm cum soothing an ache only he could tame. Your grip around his neck loosened as you felt yourself melt into the duvet. All that pleasure, that love, finally got your mind to fall quiet.
Once Simon managed to catch his breath, he gently pulled out of you before falling next to you. Strong arms maneuvered you onto your side where he pulled you against his chest where he held you firmly against him. As usual, his heart pounded strong and steady in his chest, and the longer the two of you laid there the more calm it grew. Whatever tears you needed to cry had all fallen, and there was nothing but pure bliss that settled over you as you nuzzled against his body.
“I love you,” Simon said. He said it softly, as if it was a secret. Something special that only you could know.
You couldn’t remember the last time someone whispered that phrase to you.
“I love you, too.”
That night was the first night in years that you didn’t fall asleep alone, and when you woke up you realized it wasn’t a dream. His arms stayed wrapped tightly around you throughout the night, and you woke to the scent of his musk and you couldn’t help but smile. Really smile. It was real and you were there and you were loved. You buried your face further into his chest and he reacted in kind by pulling you closer.
“Mornin’ sweetheart,” he hummed.
Humming back, you stretched your limbs with a groan that left him chuckling and he placed a quick kiss on your forehead. He sat up in bed and pulled away from you, which left you whining, until he reached down towards the foot of the bed to grab the clothes you weren’t able to change into the previous night.
“What do you want for breakfast?” he questioned as he handed you his shirt.
Such a simple question, really, and yet it felt so much more important than that. This was the conversation lovers had in the morning. Contemplating, you took the clothes from him and set them beside you as you tilted your head and shrugged. “Whatever you feel like making.”
A small smile pulled at his lips, crooked and scarred, as he glanced toward the bedroom door for a short moment before his attention returned to you. “Alright, I’ll go get started. Take your time, yeah?”
Simon Riley made you feel like a princess and you held nothing in your heart for him but adoration as you watched him slip out of the room, still half naked. Just like he had said, you took your time getting ready, and even then it still wasn’t all that long. You fixed up your appearance as best as you could without a mirror before slipping his shirt over your head. It was long enough that it fell down to your mid thighs, and because of that you didn’t bother with the shorts, or your still slightly damp underwear from the night before, either.
Sizzling bacon and freshly warmed toast greeted you by the time you meandered into the living room, and you smiled to yourself at the sight of Simon cooking in the kitchen. You drooled at the way the sinewy muscles in his back flexed as he worked, and you couldn’t fight away that odd arousal that bloomed between your legs. Deciding that it was a good idea to get some food in your system before attempting to initiate anything physically demanding, you instead sat yourself on the couch.
Your phone sat face down on the coffee table in front of you, and your stomach dropped at the sight of it. Something twisted in your gut at the thought of unlocking it and seeing no messages, at realizing just how little the Prices surely missed you. Yet, you needed to bite the bullet. How were you supposed to start your new life with Simon if you were still holding onto the ghosts of your past?
With a shaky hand, you reached for the item and quickly turned it on. You prepared yourself for its mocking screen, for the heartbreak you knew you would be able to mend later, and yet it still wasn’t enough. Nothing could have readied you for the twenty missed phone calls and the countless texts from both Mr. and Mrs. Price. Begging to know where you were at. Asking if you were safe. Pleading with you to come home. Saying that if you hadn’t responded by noon they would call the cops in fear that the worst had happened to you.
Your throat dried out and you couldn’t stop your lips from trembling. Why did they do that? Was it supposed to be some sort of sick joke? Proof that no matter how far away from them you got you could never escape the hold they had on you? No, you listened to the voicemails. Listened to the way Mrs. Price’s voice quivered when asking if you were alright, when she begged you to come home, and you nearly sobbed.
Something was wrong.
“Simon?” you asked as you snuck into the kitchen behind him.
“Yeah?” he asked as he turned around to face you.
He froze the moment he saw your face. He could read the trepidation on your face as if it were the morning paper, and he quickly placed down his cooking utensils. You hated the way he looked at you with such care and yet with some sort of knowledge, as if he already predicted what you were about to ask him.
“Did you lie to me last night? About Mr. Price asking you to take me home with you?” you asked.
“Yes.”
His response came quick and without hesitation and that almost made things worse. You wished he had paused for a moment to think about the way that word would shatter you, and yet he didn’t. Tears pooled in the corner of your eyes and you found your face falling into your hands in disbelief. He lied to you. He fucking lied.
“Sweetheart, what’s wrong?” he asked as his hands brushed against your shoulders.
“They’re going to be so mad at me,” you cried as you pressed your palms into your eyes. It had to be a cruel joke. You wished it was. They hadn’t given you up at all, and you were going to have to pay the price for betraying their trust.
“Hey… hey, look at me,” Simon ordered as he pulled your hands from your face. The way his hands engulfed your wrists was almost laughable, and you didn’t bother to fight against him. “I thought we agreed that you’re mine now. You’re mine, and I’m yours, yeah?”
“But you lied,” you retorted.
“They were neglectin’ you!” he corrected, and his voice boomed with such strength you nearly cowered. “Would you have followed me if I hadn’t said that to you last night? Or would you be stuck in that house with partners who wouldn’t even tell you that they were havin’ a damn kid? No, you’re mine now.”
One of his hands dropped down between your legs, and you gasped as your back came in contact with the counter. He palmed at your naked cunt, felt the way his cum oozed out of you at the gentle pressure of his fingers and the sudden tensing of your muscles.
“Do you really think they love you enough to take you back like this? With my cum inside of you and the taste of you still on my tongue?” he questioned. “I did what I did to save you. I was tired of seein’ them treat you like that. I’m not lettin’ that happen again.”
Words failed you and all you could do was stare up at him and cry. It was all so wrong and yet something in the back of your mind screamed that he was right. He was right because in one night he had given you everything you had all but begged of them to do for you in all the years you had been together. Even if they still wanted you, maybe they really didn’t deserve you. But you would still have to face them eventually. Admit that you were running away, that you didn’t belong to them anymore, and that thought terrified you.
Giving up, you collapsed against him and allowed all your anguish to spew from your eyes. Just like the previous night, his hold on you was strong and caring, and he did so without hesitation. After all, you were his girl. He saved you, and he had no intention of letting you go.
#simon riley x reader#ghost x reader#simon ghost riley x reader#simon riley smut#ghost smut#f!reader
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Trust Me (M. Sturniolo)
chris version?, masterlist
contains: angst, verbal arguing, trust issues, accusations of cheating, make up sex, smut (soft!dom matt), a bit of fluff
a/n: yikes. i don't even know what to say. bone apple teeth.
“Are we really going to argue about this?”
I pause the motions of washing my face to glare at him through my phone. “Yes, Matt. We’re really going to argue about you hanging out with an ex-fling.”
He sighs and readjusts his hold on his phone. “We’re going in circles. I told you I’m not ‘hanging out’ with her. It’s a business collab.”
“Blah, blah, blah.” I mock childishly and Matt cocks his head. I know he’s confused at my sudden surge of pettiness and honestly so am I. I mean, we’ve barely argued at all in the last six months we’ve been together. But, something about this situation is stirring up old insecurities in me and I can’t help lashing out.
“If it’s really just work, why are you just now telling me about it?” I ask as I pick up the phone and walk back to my bedroom, plopping down on the bed.
“My bad, I didn’t know I was on a leash. I didn’t have to tell you about it at all. I called you out of respect when I found out she was coming.” He answers roughly. I’m about to respond when I hear his brothers calling his name.
“I’ll come over when we’re done and we can talk about it face-to-face, okay?” Matt says, softening his tone.
I don’t even reply. I just scoff and end the call, throwing my phone off the bed. I see the screen light up with a message from him but I don’t pick it up. Instead, I head into my living room to spend the day watching the only man who’s never let me down: Stiles Stilinski.
*************************
I must have fallen asleep somewhere around season three because I wake up to Void Stiles and someone banging on my door. Walking over and staring through the peephole, I’m unsurprised to see Matt standing there looking pissed.
I open the door slightly, peeking my head through the hole. “Wrong house.” But he just rolls his eyes, seemingly unimpressed.
“So we hang up in each other’s faces now, right?” He says as he pushes the door open wider and steps inside my apartment.
Sighing, I close the door and lock it, turning to lean against it with my arms crossed. “Oh, you remembered I exist? Only,” I mime checking the time. “three hours later. How was she? Was it good?”
Matt tilts his head and stares at me for a second, his eyes hardening, before he chuckles darkly and shakes his head. “You have me so fucked up today. Accuse me of cheating one more time.”
“If you want to be single, do that. In love or not, you’re just a man. You’re not the only dick-”
Matt cuts in, his face deadly serious again. “Y/N, who the fuck do you think you’re talking to? Stop playing with me.”
His expression tells me I’m going too far, but the anger burning inside of my chest won’t let me back down.
I walk closer to him, stepping into his space “I’ve been there, done that with all the bullshit, Matt.”
“And I’m not them.” He snaps, ducking his face inches from mine. “I’m not stupid and I haven’t done anything to make you not trust me.”
Despite my best efforts, my eyes start to water and I look away. He’s right. I can’t punish him for someone else’s mistakes. I walk away and let myself fall backward onto my couch. “I’m sorry,” I whisper, my arm flung across my eyes.
Matt comes over, pulling off the back pillows so he can crawl on top of me. He moves my arm from my face and adjusts me so I’m looking at him. “I’m not going to cheat on you.”
“I know,” I admit, blinking back my tears at how stupid I feel.
Matt wipes the corners of my eyes and turns my face with his fingertips so he can kiss my jawline. “You’re the only one I want.”
“Even though I have trust issues?” I ask breathlessly as he moves his lips down my neck, the proof of his want hardening against my thigh.
He shrugs, sliding his hands under my shirt and gripping my sides. “I’ll fix them.”
I nudge him so he’ll look at me and wrap my arms around his neck to pull him to me. Tangling my hands in his hair, I press tiny chaste kisses to his lips. He lets me have my way for a few minutes but gets frustrated and takes control, kissing me harder and sweeping his tongue into my mouth.
I grind my hips up against his, needing friction, and he groans. Removing an arm from his neck, I reach down and unbuckle his belt, reaching into his boxers. Matt moans my name against my neck and begins thrusting into my hand slowly. He sits up slightly, pushes my sleeping shorts to the side, and plunges in his middle finger.
I gasp when his cold ring brushes my clit and lean my head on his shoulder.
He adds another finger, using his other hand to hold my legs open when I try to squeeze them closed. He reaches down and stops my hand movements, clearly getting too close, before leaning back down to place kisses on my face.
Matt adds pressure to my clit, laughing when I push against his shoulders. “You’re so fucking wet for me already, pretty girl.”
I moan out his name as an answer and he picks up the pace, curling his fingers to brush my g spot. He keeps up his pace even when I tell him I’m coming, his thumb rubbing circles as I ride out my orgasm. When I come down, he pulls out his fingers and wipes them carelessly on his jeans as he stands up.
“Get on your knees.” He tells me as he kicks off his pants and boxers. I slide off the couch, following his instructions, and face him, assuming he wants head. But when I reach for him, he shakes his head. “Bend over the coffee table.”
I raise my eyebrow slightly but do as he says, bracing my hands on the frame.
Matt kneels behind me and nudges my knees farther apart. He swipes my hair to one side so he can kiss my neck as he lines himself up, grunting quietly as he enters me.
He gives me a second to adjust when he bottoms out, beginning to thrust when I start to squirm. He pulls back as far as he can and slams back into me, pushing me into the table. I gasp, looking back, but he only smirks, leaning down to lightly nip at my shoulder. He continues his rough strokes, his hand digging into my hip.
Fighting for control, I meet his thrusts, pushing my hips back into him, until he braces a hand on my back and pushes me down.
I give up and I press my face into the cool glass, moaning loudly, as he hammers into me. Matt moves his other hand up to the back of my head, lacing his fingers through and tugging gently. “My girl.” He breathes out, the soft tone of his voice contrasting his rough thrusts.
“Please, Matt,” I say, squeezing my eyes shut as I feel my body tightening up.
“Come all over me, baby.” He says, pulling me up and pressing my back into his chest while he thrusts up. My body melts against his, and I unravel around him. I shudder when he continues thrusting, his hand coming up to circle my oversensitive clit.
It’s too much but when I try to wiggle away, he pulls out and stands, yanking me up with him. He leads me back to the sofa and bends me over the arm of it before sliding inside of me again.
He grips both of my hips, using them as leverage as he pounds himself into me. I can’t believe how much he’s stretching me, the tip of his dick kissing my cervix as he thrusts.
He brings his hand up and covers my mouth, shushing me, which must mean I’m being too loud. But I can’t think of anything besides the way he feels inside of me.
I can tell when he gets close because his thrusts become sloppier and he starts moaning out my name. He pushes inside of me as deep as he can and comes, dropping his head onto my back.
We both try to catch our breath for a second before he pulls out of me slowly and points me toward the bathroom. “You can go first.”
When we both have cleaned up, he comes back over to where I’m sitting on the couch and squats down. His eyes are kind and sweet as he takes my hand and brings it to his mouth, pressing a soft kiss to it. “Shower?”
He lets me get in first and I flinch at the cold ass water he’s set it to, turning up the heat. Matt hisses as he follows me in, leaning past me to turn it down. “Are you trying to boil us alive? That shit is proof that you’re a demon.”
I laugh at his dramatics as he grabs my soap and lathers up the loofah. He scrubs my arms gently before spinning me so he can get my back.
When he's done, he pulls me into his chest and I lean my head back, the feeling of his skin against mine like ecstasy.
“Do you know how much I love you?” He says, his voice grating across my ear before he places a kiss behind it.
I turn and smile at him, adoration flooding my body. “I think I’m starting to.”
#maggie b writes#sturniolo triplets#christopher sturniolo#matt sturniolo#nick sturniolo#chris sturniolo#chris sturniolo x reader#maggie b talks too much#sturniolo fluff#chris sturniolo fluff#matt sturniolo x reader#matt sturniolo smut#matt sturniolo fluff#matthew sturniolo#sturniolo#matt sturniolo angst#sturniolo fanfic#nicolas sturniolo#sturniolo x reader#sturniolo smut#matt sturniolo oneshots#matt sturniolo x you#chris sturniolo angst#chris sturniolo headcanon#chris sturniolo smut#sturniolo angst#sturniolo fandom
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One-sided Love Exist... (Yandere Fiancé x F. Reader)
Summary: You have been in love with your fiancé, but all you know is that he isn't in love with you until you do something about it.
Notes: I got this inspiration from @mayulla, their story is here. Also, I might or might not do a part 2 for this story so wait on that
Warning: fake love, forced love, obsession, I don't condone these behaviors, I just write it.
Love.
Something you have always wished for to happen to you. All of the love stories you have read. You wished to be the princess saved by her knight or to be a princess who saves the one she loves. That was all you wanted. A knight or a prince in shining armor. That's where your fiancé came in.
A duke's son. Your fiancé, Alaric de Caius. He had seemed to fit the mold, perfectly. He looked regal and handsome with his black hair and dark blue eyes. You were only 9 when you had met him, but you couldn't help but smile when you first saw him.
Overtime you had absolutely fallen in love with him. He was a man of morals, he believe in the same things as you of what was right and wrong, he was academically talented, he was athletically talented, and he treated people around him the same whether or not they held a title.
A wonderful man.
But the problems arose when you had seen he had never paid attention towards you.
He never looked you way, seemed to say anything towards you, or seem to acknowledge you at all.
"Good morning Alaric!"
He wouldn't look.
You didn't understand why he ignored you. His indifference towards you, hurt. You didn't know if it was your ego that was hurting or it was truly your heart that was hurting, but something was in pain. But you didn't give up! Both of you were bound to get married to each other, one day!
Often talking to him first, soon enough he responded.
Bringing sweets such as cookies or sweet bread from the kitchen. Watching him eat it with no signs of disgust, might have made your day.
But you must also strive hard too! To be worthy of being a Duchess, you must help him by studying, taking up hobbies such as perfecting painting, embroidery and writing poems that have deep meanings. You must also know how to manage a household, so you asked your father if you could learn how to manage the servant's wages and everything going on in the household.
Everything you did was for him.
You did not partake in gossip with your bestest of friends, you didn't spread malicious rumors about someone, and you tried not to do the most selfish thing if there was a selfless option. Your friends, love you but saw you in pain. "Why do you do these stressful things (y/n)?" they would constantly ask.
"Because I am going to be future Duchess one day, I must prepare!" You would say cheerfully.
Alina Thompson.
Her family was new money. Her father was a merchant who was able to strike gold in selling a once thought, rare ore. Opening trades with the east, she has risen to become the daughter or Baron Thompson.
Your friends didn't like her. One of them saying, "There is something off about her..." and another saying, "Why does she look at Duke Caius like that..."
You had brought it up to Alaric one day. He said there was, "Nothing to worry about, she is just an acquaintance.", and at first you didn't worry, heck you even befriended her. She was pretty. Her hair, long and blonde, her eyes a bright green color like emeralds, and her smile the brightest you have ever seen. She often wore pink and you did as well. But she always seemed to not get along with your friends after a few meetings. Or any noble women in fact. She had always stirred the pot with the other women in high society, supposedly acting different as if she had 2 different personalities in front of others. But she had always gotten along with the men. They spoke high praises of her. From her looks to personality. She even had admirers of her own. She was perfect, but most women disliked her. But you didn't think anything of it.
Until the day of the royal ball.
You saw with your very own eyes. Alaric's arm, being held by her's. She had the brightest, most shameless smile that day. All the men looked uncomfortable while the women were shocked. It was no secret that you and Alaric were engaged. And it was definitely no secret that you were in love with him.
They danced together. They wore matching outfits. Even the flowers on both of their corsages were the same. He had smiled at her as they were dancing. He gave her, her first dance of high society at her first ball, a royal one in fact. There was no way he had no idea what he meant by his actions. Your heart shattered as your friends got mad at both of them.
"Why that sly fox! How could she betray your kindness like this?!"
"(y/n)! If you need to I can kill him myself!"
"No!" you had quietly yelled out.
You friends looked at you, worried on their faces. "(b/s/f #1), (b/s/f #2), I need to...go..."
You ran away towards the royal garden, letting your tears to flow down.
Once you got home, you destroyed the books, the gifts he gave you and finally sat down on the floor and cried you heart out.
Your heart had shattered that day, nothing felt like it was going to fix it. It felt like the end of the world.
The next day came, and you holed yourself up in your room.
Your bedroom door would not open. Nothing will work. Your father was worried, your friends, pestered at you, and the servants knock and check up on you as well. But even though you knew all these people cared, you truly only wanted one person to come and see you, Alaric.
You don't know if you were a masochist or not, but you did want answers.
Soon, one of the maids came in. "Leave me alone..." you mumbled in your pillow.
"No. Duke Caius is here to visit you. So I must get you ready, young lady."
You looked up at the maid as she chuckled. "What's so funny?" you asked almost like a pouting child.
"Your eyes are puffy my lady. If you do not want the Duke to notice it, I suggest you get ready, now."
You pouted as you got up.
The next thing you knew, you had seen Alaric. His perfectly combed over hair, his eyes, calm, and the placement of his lapels, in order as followed. You had bowed your head down slightly, as he sat down at the table.
You didn't even bother looking at him. If you did, you didn't think you could bear it. It was an embarrassing night for you. All you did was look at your tea, slowly stirring the sugar cube, looking at it and spacing out in the process.
"(y/n)?"
You looked up. This was the first time he had ever called out your name. He had always referred to you as Lady (l/n), out of formality, but he has never called out your name like you do his.
"Did you hear what I said?"
You took a moment and shook your head. "No, I'm sorry..."
"That's okay, I can say it again."
Why did your heart tug at this? You felt yourself being anxious for what he wanted to say. But first you wanted the answer to why he brought Alina to the royal ball the other night.
"I had brought out Lady Thompson to the ball a few nights ago, because of her father. He had wanted to make sure his daughter secured an escort for her first royal ball. He had insisted I had better escort her, otherwise she wouldn't come."
An excuse.
"I helped her father find the rare ore that had made him Baron. I must help him again."
Lies.
"So that's your excuse..." you mumbled out of your mouth.
He looked at you, his eyes were still. He had no emotion after what you had just said. "(y/n), it's the truth."
"Lies. We are engaged, but my debutant ball and first royal ball, you didn't escort me at all."
You remember it well. He had said he was busy, and you thought nothing of it, because he wouldn't escort or dance with anyone else anyways.
"When we had our first dance, you didn't even look at me."
It broke your heart that night when you both finally had that first dance you had been waiting for, only to be sad when he didn't smile, look or seemed to be enjoying it in any way.
"I had wanted us to get matching outfits, but you held it off saying, 'you hadn't gotten measured yet'."
He would get measured for an outfit for another woman, but not you? His own fiancé?
You felt nothing but anger now towards him. "Was it a waste of my time to devote it all towards you? I know your favorite snacks, colors, meal, drink, what to do as duchess..."
You felt like you were about to cry again, but tried to hold it in. "WAS IT ALL FOR NOTHING?!" your hands slammed the table as you felt your tears coming down your face as you looked at him.
Hoping he would say it wasn't in vain. That all of these things you did for him, would mean something.
"I had never asked you to do these things, (y/n). I am tired of your antics."
You couldn't believe you had ever loved this man.
You immediately went back inside, and into your room to cry once more.
Alaric has never needed anyone close to him.
He never understood you and your stupid antics to get closer towards him. From bringing snacks, to gifting the books he so wanted, to talking to him way to often.
He had an alright childhood. His father was sick and his mother was dead from childbirth, so he needed to become duke heir at a young age. Relying on himself to make the right or wrong decisions while his father's health deteriorated overtime.
His father wanted him to get married to his close friend, Marquis (l/n), so he arranged the engagement before his death, and after his death when he was 15, he kept it on because it was one of his father's final wishes. To see their families united.
But sometimes he couldn't stand (y/n). When he first met her, he had no opinions of her, other than the fact that she was nothing more than a clumsy girl trying to get his attention.
She was trying to live out fairytale romances through him. She had wanted him to be her knight in shining armor. And he didn't care for it.
He ignored her until she kept on pestering him.
Soon, they did their small talks.
He ignored the food she had gave him.
Until he ate it because he was hungry and it was his favorites.
He ignored her all throughout his childhood, because he never needed her as much as he did. He saw her as pathetic, but he couldn't help but fuel her pathetic attempts to get him to love her.
He did didn't need her. He didn't need her at all.
Plus, she was well liked. Both women and men liked her. But sometimes those men that liked her too much got on his nerves to the point of threatening them into silence. She didn't need him, she wanted him. And he didn't need her as well.
But he thought he felt something when he met Alina for the first time. But later, he realized it was nothing more than curiosity. But whenever he was around (y/n), there was always a feeling that he didn't know what it was, but always put it off, until it came creeping onto him whenever he was with Alina.
It was clear she was jealous of (y/n) and her life, so she had tried to mimic her. Her cheery attitude, beautiful smile, and her happy-go-lucky demeanor, even though he could tell that she was nothing more than hollow shell of an impression. She did all these things so that he could pay attention to her. But Alina was worse than (y/n).
Her personality and character are terrible.
She always seemed to get into fights with the other women. Whether petty drama or something a tad bit more serious. She had always seem to never get along with them. Unlike (y/n).
She was terrible at any financial things. Counting money properly, distributing money equally, and figuring out the budget. Unlike (y/n)
She had always seemed to look at others as if she was better than them. Often subtly bragging a new pendant, earrings, bracelet, shoes, dress, or hair accessories. Unlike (y/n)
Her tea was awful to drink. She always stepped on someone's toes for no good reason. Her embroidery was lackluster. Her paintings, a clear imitation. Unlike (y/n).
He remembered a time where (y/n)'s tea was bitter, when she stepped on someone's feet while dancing, when her paintings were dull, and when she had a hard time managing money. It was absolutely a clumsy and nerve-racking time. But slowly, it had shown improvement, unlike Alina's tea.
All of these hobbies that Alina had picked up and all of her personal quirks have cause him to realize one thing.
He would never look her way.
He picked Alina because he thought he could finally drive (y/n) away from her antics and say he is not interested in her at all.
When he went to the royal ball and was dancing with Alina, all he could ever think of was how (y/n) would react in the same situation. Her bright smile, cheerful eyes and glowing aura would all be very lovely. He couldn't help but unconsciously smile during the dance, and it seemed to have fueled Alina's determination to take her down.
But now he wonders why he had those thoughts during the dance with Alina.
She had holed up in her manor ever since that royal ball.
Alaric didn't see her. No letter, no snacks, no anything. Nothing had came. He should be elated. Happy. Excited. Joyful.
But all he felt was a big hole. A big empty hole somewhere in his body.
He had thought he had heard her all over the place. "Alaric. You need to stop overworking yourself to death! You might get sick!"
"It's none of your concerns, Lady (l/n)."
"Huh?"
He looked up from his paperwork, only to see his secretary looking at him, confused? "What did you say, Your Grace?"'
He looked down at his paperwork. "Nothing of note."
It happened again when he was reading through the manor's ledgers. "Can I help you with that Alaric? I'm very good with ledgers!"
"It is fine Lady (l/n)."
"Your Grace?"
Once again, he looked up only to see his butler, looking at him confused.
He felt like he was going insane.
He had developed a high fever one day from overworking. His butler called in the family's doctor, and the doctor said to take a break today.
But his fever kept on running, and the maids didn't know what to do. They gave him water that was too hot, his body kept on sweating, and they gave him food too salty for his condition. They were all incompetent when he was sick all of the sudden. And to top it off, his secretary still needed him to do paperwork for the estate.
During his time with his fever, he unconsciously only thought to see one person. (y/n).
He had wanted her to be by his side when he was sick. To take care of him and to see him recover. He wanted her to scold at him for overworking. He wanted to see her happy after he did recover from this fever. He had wanted to see her, no, he felt like he needed to see her.
He slowly opened his eyes as he was asleep for a bit. He thought he saw her in his groggy state. "...(y/n)..?"
Only to finally see clearly. It was Alina. And she looked pissed, but he was even more pissed. "How dare you! How dare you call out the name of that woman when I'm here?!"
He got up and yelled. "GUARDS!"
She got mad. "Oh, now you're calling the guards?! I came here to help you! And this is what I get?!"
He looked at her with contempt. "How did you know I was sick?"
She looked anxious. "The butler told me! He contacted me with a letter! Look!"
She pulled out a messily handwritten letter as people came up towards his room. His secretary and butler came to his side. "Who is this?" his secretary asked.
Alaric's head was banging, but managed to respond. "Lady Thompson. I do not know how she got here."
Alina looked scarred as the secretary called a maid to call the guards. "How did you get in here Lady Thompson?"
"I got here because the butler told me to come here because His Grace is sick!"
The butler looked confused. "I do not recall writing a letter to anyone."
Alina got mad. "Yes you did! I have the evidence!"
She held her letter as the secretary grabbed it out of her hands. "Butler, is this your handwriting?"
The butler fixed his glasses and shook his head. "I do not write this sloppily, even when writing fast."
Alina got even more mad as the guard got up the stairs. "Your Grace?"
"Take her away, and make sure she never sets foot in the estate again."
"Wha..? HEY!" The guards took Alina while she protested. All the servants went back to work as his secretary looked at him. "I will investigate where that letter came from, Your Grace."
Alaric looked at the ceiling as he started to lay down in his bed. "There is no need. But do investigate how she got in here and how she knew. We might have a stalker on our hands if I'm not careful..."
His secretary nodded. "Yes Your Grace, I hope you recover quickly, soon."
All he could do is stare up to the ceiling. Thinking. If (y/n) had done this, maybe he wouldn't had been as mad as he was back there. Maybe he would had enjoyed her trying to fumble out a response of how she knew he was sick. Maybe he would had enjoyed her antics of trying to cure him of his fever.
He couldn't help but chuckle as he slowly fell back asleep, dreaming.
When he had gotten better after 3 days, he immediately went to the (l/n) estate. He didn't know why, but he needed to go there after his fever.
He was led to the garden as he waited for her to get ready. Then he looked around. The garden was filled with flowers. Pink, white, purple, and blue flowers seemed to be her favorite. The servants brought out her favorite tea set. A pink and white ceramic one. He has only seen it every time she had hosted her friends. She only brought out the other tea sets with him.
She looked different. She looked less lively. Her skin looked pale, her eyes a bit puffy and her hands fiddling with the tea cup, nervously.
He had only brought up his purpose at being in at the royal ball with Alina, when she started talking about his shortcomings in their relationship.
How he didn't accompany her to her first ball, didn't look at her for their first dance, and how he always gave an excuse for not wearing matching outfits.
But something came out of his mouth when talking to her. "I had never asked you to do these things, (y/n). I am tired of your antics."
He felt annoyed at her behavior. She got too clingy and annoying now. Bringing up insignificant things. She got annoying in this very moment.
She soon ran away as he left the (l/n) estate.
He wanted to go home and rid his memories of her immature behavior. Hoping that her behavior won't continue again.
A/N: I should do a part 2. But you'll have to wait a while.
#yandere x reader#yandere childhood friend#yandere oc x reader#yandere male x reader#yandere male#yandere#yandere duke#yandere duke x reader#x f reader
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Reader sending a picture of her not very balanced very snacky but yummy meal captioned “girl dinner!!” while Spencer is away on a case and it just turns into Spencer calling her in front of everyone to kindly lecture on how that isn’t an actual meal and how she needs to eat something real/he’ll order something for her LMAO
You're not expecting the immediate call from Spencer after you send him a picture of your meal, but you pick it up anyways with the crunch of a pretzel stick.
"Spence?" You speak through your mouthful, long-since over the illusion of perfection around him.
"Angel," He greets you, worry lacing his sweeet voice, "Is that really your dinner?"
"Yeah," You laugh, looking down at the collection of pretzel sticks and cheesy popcorn that adorn the plate around your bowl of macaroni and cheese, "I don't feel like anything else."
"Sweetheart," He hums, "That's not a very nourishing meal. You're probably going to feel gross afterwards, it's going to make you tired and you're not going to feel very energized tomorrow."
"Spence, I know," You chuckle, adjusting the phone against your ear, "It's girl dinner. It's supposed to be unhealthy and mismatched."
"Girl dinner," He grumbles, his brows probably furrowed adorably. "What-?"
In the background you hear assorted giggles, Prentiss's the most recognizable. You assume that others are JJ and Garcia, and you hope they're enjoying themselves.
"It's a meme," You explain, "An internet joke, Spencer. I'm in the mood for junk food, so instead of forcing myself to eat healthy all the time, sometimes you just have to give in and eat like shit for a night. Girl dinner."
"If you paired it with a vegetable, you'd at least be getting some nutrients," Spencer tries, but you cut him off while you stir your macaroni.
"No vegetables. This is girl dinner. I'm okay, Spence, I'll eat something really good for breakfast tomorrow."
"Okay," He's hesitant to agree, "But- but honey, if you're having trouble preparing yourself food, I can order in for you, okay? Just tell me what you want and I'll wake up early to have it sent over."
"Spencer!" You giggle, eager to get to your less-than-balanced meal, "Okay. This is just a one-time joke, okay? I thought it would be funny to send you. You don't have to worry."
"I worry about you all the time," He confesses, and you know it's meant to be flattering instead of insulting, "I'll have fresh fruit delivered for you tomorrow, okay?"
"Okay, Spencer." You finally concede, "Okay. I love you."
"I love you too," Now you hear the relaxed smile in his voice, "Enjoy your- uh, girl dinner."
#spencer reid#spencer reid x reader#spencer reid imagine#spencer reid scenario#spencer reid oneshot#spencer reid one-shot#spencer reid one shot#spencer reid headcanons#spencer reid headcanon#spencer reid hc#spencer reid hcs#spencer reid fanfiction#spencer reid fanfic#spencer reid fic#spencer reid blurb#spencer reid drabble#spencer reid dialogue#spencer reid fluff#spencer reid x reader fanfiction
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Bruce, slumped in a chair: "Alfred it's so insane, he just doesn't stop. Yesterday he broke his ankle and he's back in those goddamn pixie boots with 'extra supports' like that fucking does anything-"
Alfred, stirring sedatives into the tea he's making Bruce: "Oh my."
Bruce: "-I just don't know what to do. He needs to take a break, holy shit that much anger can't be good for a child, and don't even get me started on the coping mechanisms Alfred, they're unhinged-"
Alfred, looking up with a tight smile: "You don't say. Sugar, Master Bruce?"
Bruce, dragging a hand down his face: "-and let me tell you, I don't know where he gets his energy because he hasn't slept in two days! Two days! I was impressed when he first got here, but now I'm just concerned-"
Alfred, handing the tea to Bruce: "Understandable, sir. Anyone in your position would be."
Bruce, nearly choking on the tea: "Alfred, Alfred, I'm so dumb--the lack of sleep must be getting to me-- just spike his orange juice with sleep meds. Child doses of Nyquil or something. Yeah, that'll do it."
Alfred, watching Bruce drain the cup: "I couldn't agree with you more."
#please enjoy the fruits of my feverish ADHD mind#I don't know what in God's many names this is#I'm so tired and I'm babysitting and I want to put the house under a sleeping curse#dick grayson#robin#battinson as disaster bat dad#batdad#alfred pennyworth#batman#batfamily
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