#and my shirt has a mouse on it | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

pucksandpower · 3 months

Text

Never Have I Ever

Charles Leclerc x Sainz!Reader

Summary: a game of Never Have I Ever leads to revelations your brother wishes he could forget (and half the grid running for their lives)

“Alright Y/N, it’s your turn!” Lando says, turning to you with an impish grin. “Give us a good one!”

You bite your lip, looking around the circle of F1 drivers sitting cross-legged on the floor of Charles’ palatial hotel suite. It’s a rare night off for everyone during the season, and Charles had suggested a casual get-together for some bonding time. That, of course, led to drinking games, and now here you all are, a few rounds into Never Have I Ever.

“Hmm...” you say slowly, tapping your chin as you think. Your brother, sitting to your left, playfully shoves your shoulder.

“Come on, hermanita! Don’t go easy on us,” he says with a laugh. You roll your eyes but can’t help smiling.

“Okay, okay! Never have I ever … raced in Formula 1,” you declare. A chorus of groans goes up around the circle as everyone except you drinks.

“That was just mean, Y/N!” Lance protests, though his eyes are twinkling with amusement. You grin and give a nonchalant shrug.

“All’s fair in Never Have I Ever!”

The game continues, the questions getting more and more outrageous and personal. Though you’re the only non-driver here, you feel completely comfortable around these guys. You’ve known most of them for years now through your brother, and they welcomed you into the F1 family immediately. It’s fun to sit back and observe their antics and camaraderie.

“Alright, I’ve got one,” Daniel says, leaning forward with an devilish smirk. “Never have I ever … slept with someone on the grid.”

You feel your eyes widen slightly at the implication, but force yourself not to react. Still, you can’t help but notice Fernando slyly taking a sip of his drink out of the corner of your eye. The rest of the drivers turn to look at him in surprise.

“What?” Fernando says with an innocent look. “Have you seen Mark Webber?”

The others burst into laughter at this excuse, the tension effectively diffused. As all eyes stay focused on Fernando, you slowly lift your own glass to your lips and take a subtle sip.

Just as you’re lowering it though, you feel Carlos stiffen next to you. Uh oh. You chance a glance at your brother and immediately regret it at the sight of the shock and anger flashing in his eyes. Before you can say anything, Carlos is on his feet.

“Alright, which one of you was stupid enough to touch my sister?” He demands heatedly.

Instantly, almost comically, Charles, Max, Lando, Pierre, Alex, Oscar, and Logan scramble to their feet and take off running in different directions.

Carlos’ eyes nearly bug out of his head before he takes off after them, yelling Spanish profanities. You sit there stunned for a second before dissolving into laughter. Only Fernando and Daniel remain seated beside you, chuckling and shaking their heads.

“Carlos! Hermano, calm down!” You call after your brother fruitlessly. Still giggling, you turn to Fernando. “I should probably go deal with him before he actually hurts someone, huh?”

“Probably wise,” Fernando says with an amused smile. “Good luck, chica.”

You give him a grateful smile before jumping to your feet and hurrying after Carlos. You find him in the next room, gripping a cowering Lando by the front of his shirt.

“Please don’t kill me!” Lando squeaks out. “It was one time!”

“Carlos, stop!” You cry, rushing over and grabbing your brother’s arm. “Let him go!”

Carlos drops Lando immediately, who scurries away like a frightened mouse. Your brother whirls on you, face still red with anger.

“Y/N, what the hell? You never told me you’ve been with these pendejos!”

You hold up your hands in a calming gesture. “I know, I’m sorry! It just sort of … happened. With everything going on in the paddock, it’s hard to avoid getting close to people. A girl has needs!”

Carlos drags a hand down his face, looking positively murderous. You place a gentle hand on his arm.

“Carlos, listen to me. I’m a grown woman, I can make my own choices. I know you want to protect me, but I’m okay, I promise.”

Your brother’s expression softens slightly as he looks down at you. He pulls you into a tight hug.

“Lo siento, hermanita. I just worry about you, that’s all. The grid is like a family, but still ...”

You hug him back reassuringly. “I know. But you don’t need to go all Spanish Inquisition on them, okay? I can handle myself.”

Carlos sighs but finally relents with a small smile. “Okay, okay. I’ll try to restrain myself from beating them all senseless.”

You laugh. “Much appreciated. Now come on, let’s get back out there and pretend this never happened, yeah?”

Carlos winces slightly but agrees, allowing you to lead him back out to the others. Most have returned to the circle now, shooting your brother wary glances. You give them a reassuring smile as you sit back down, Carlos settling tensely beside you.

“Right!” You say brightly. “Whose turn was it?”

There’s a beat of uncertain silence before Logan clears his throat.

“Uh, I believe it was mine,” he says. “Never have I ever … had a podium finish.”

There’s a communal exhale of relief as the game gets back underway. You catch Carlos’ eye and give him a pointed look, reminding him of his promise. He sighs but gives you a subtle nod and an apologetic smile.

The questions continue on, ranging from silly to risqué, though nothing quite as explosive as before. You’re relieved to see your brother laughing and back to his normal self.

As the night winds down, you’re struck by a feeling of gratitude and affection for this group. Despite the drama and tensions of the season, at the end of the day, you’re all a family.

These guys welcomed you with open arms, and you know Carlos is just looking out for you. You lean against your brother with a contented sigh, smiling around at the drivers joking and chatting happily. No matter what happens on and off the track, you know you’ll always have each other.

***

“Alright everyone, glasses up! We’re doing this again!”

You grin around at the drivers gathered once more, this time to celebrate the one year anniversary of your first Never Have I Ever night together.

“Who’s starting us off this time?” Lando asks, bouncing excitedly in his seat.

“Ooh me, me!” Alex volunteers, raising his hand eagerly. Everyone chuckles.

“Alright Albon, give us a good one,” Lewis encourages.

Alex strokes his chin thoughtfully. “Hmm, never have I ever … raced in F1 before 2019.”

A majority of the group drinks at that one. “Trying to knock out us old farts, eh?” Fernando jokes, elbowing Alex.

The questions continue on, each one prompting laughs and cheers among the group. You’re filled with the same warm contentment as last year, smiling around at your dear friends.

About halfway through, you clear your throat. “I’ve got one! Never have I ever … been an uncle.”

Most of the drivers take a drink between smiles and coos about nieces and nephews. You notice Carlos doesn’t drink and turn to him with a playful grin.

“Uh, hermano, I think you forgot to drink for that one,” you say pointedly.

Carlos looks at you in confusion. “What? None of my sisters have kids.”

You simply keep staring at him meaningfully until realization dawns on his face. His eyes go wide, flicking down to your still-full glass of untouched alcohol.

“Y/N … are you ...” he breathes in disbelief.

You nod again. “I’m pregnant.”

For a moment Carlos just stares at you in shock. Then his face starts turning red, hands clenching into fists at his sides.

“You’re pregnant?” He repeats through gritted teeth. The other drivers fall silent, exchanging uneasy glances.

“Who did this to you? Who’s the cabrón who touched my sister again?” Carlos demands, voice rising.

You shrink back slightly, smile fading. Maybe you should have told him privately.

“I … Carlos, please, just calm down,” you say weakly.

But your brother is beyond calming down now. He whips his head around the circle, glaring daggers at each driver.

“Who was it? Who permanently defiled my innocent baby sister?”

You open your mouth uncertainly, not quite sure how to answer. Before you can though, Charles abruptly jumps to his feet.

“WellwouldyalookatthetimeIgottagonowbye!” He blurts out hurriedly before turning and sprinting from the room.

“LECLERC!” Carlos bellows, tearing off after him. You can’t help the laughter that bubbles out of you at the sight. Some things never change.

The other drivers are cracking up too. “Think we should go make sure Carlos doesn’t actually kill him?” Lando asks with a grin.

You wave a hand dismissively. “Nah, let them work it out. Charles will tire him out eventually.”

Still chuckling, you lean back against the couch next to Fernando, who has an arm draped casually around your shoulders.

“Those two, I swear. Will Carlos ever stop seeing me as his baby sister?” You muse with a smile.

Fernando grins and shakes his head. “Doubtful, chica. But that’s how brothers are. He’s just watching out for you.”

From the other room, you hear a crash followed by yelling in multiple languages. You and Fernando share an amused look.

“At least he didn’t try to fight the whole grid again,” you point out. Fernando barks out a laugh at the memory.

“Give him time. The night is still young,” he says with a playful wink.

You laugh again, cuddling into Fernando’s side. Even with your brother’s antics, you truly feel so lucky to have this group in your life. Friends turned family.

As you hear Carlos’ angry shouts getting closer, followed by Charles’ panicked apologizing, you think to yourself that there’s nowhere else you’d rather be.

2K notes · View notes

papercorgiworld · 4 months

Text

Boyfriend material

Reader is starting the new year in search of a little fun and a boyfriend. Pansy helps here pick the right outfit and guy.

For Blaise, Theo and Mattheo this will be a two part ‘porn with plot’ thing. This is part one and holds the plot. No Enzo part two, because apparently I can only write so much smut before my brain goes brrrr. Sorry.

I added a part 2 for Enzo!

Warning: reader has a little dirty make out daydream. Slytherin dudes have some naughty thoughts as well.

I had fun writing this. I really hope you like reading it. Kisses.

“New year, new me. I’m no longer a boring girl. I’m going to find myself a nice, good looking guy and get crazy with him.” You started as you sat down next to Hermoine. She laughed in response. “You don’t need a guy to have fun or to be cool.” But before you could say anything Pansy plopped down next to you. “Yes, you do, so who’s the lucky guy?” Hermoine rolled her eyes.

You looked around the great hall and settled on a handsome sixth year. “Him.” You tilted your face his way, subtly pointing. “Ew! No! Boring!” Pansy spat. “What’s wrong with that guy?” Hermoine asked, narrowing her eyes at Pansy. “You wanna be popular, you wanna have fun, you gotta date someone on top of the food chain.” Pansy said as a matter of fact and Hermoine mocked the last words of her sentence.

You ignored the tension completely and simply asked. “Who’s on top of the food chain?” Pansy looked around to search for a good example. “Aha!” She said pleased, when she saw who just walked in and grinned at the girls next to her. “Oh no.” Hermoine sighed as she saw a particular group of Slytherins enter the great hall. You simply pursed your lips at the idea. But you brought yourself back to reality. “How’s a gray mouse like me gonna date the top of the food chain?” Pansy simply wiggled her eyebrows and Hermoine was definitely worried now.

***

The next day you made your way to sit next to Hermoine in class. With your skirt short enough to make you question its purpose and your shirt tight and revealing, you now had all the guys paying attention. “What’s this?” Hermoine questioned, obviously referring to your outfit. “This. This is my battle-outfit. I’m conquering the top of the food chain.” You replied with confidence. Hermoine scoffed and raised an eyebrow. “Then why is the top of the food chain looking at you like you're their next meal.”

You quickly glanced around the classroom, getting a little nervous, you softly bit your lip. You want to defend your case to Hermoine, but accidentally drop your quill. As you reach for it, Enzo beats you to it. Handing it to you with a sweet smile, but also giving you a cheeky wink.

Theodore, who sits next to Enzo, shakes his head and huffs. “Don’t fall for it. Pansy’s clearly up to something.” Enzo smiles brightly at his friend. “Oh mate, I’ve already fallen. Badly, madly. And it’s okay, you can leave your fallen brother behind. He’s going to a better place, somewhere between her squishy thighs.” Mattheo who sits behind Theodore speaks up. “Oi, T. slap him for me, will ya?” And before Enzo even realizes what Mattheo said, Theo has already given him a light smack on the back of his head. Blaise bites his lip and comes to Enzo’s aid. “In his defense, look at those legs.” Slurring the last word and leaning closer to Mattheo, his eyes never leaving your body. Mattheo pushes his chair a little and leans back for a better view of what his friend is talking about. Mattheo is definitely seeing something he likes, his eyes scan your body. His tongue gently rolls over his lips and he swallows hard thinking about all the noises you would make if he could have his way with you. “Mister Zabini, mister Riddle, care to explain why you don’t have your books out yet.” Professor McGonnagol asks, looking down upon the boys. “Sorry professor.” Blaise immediately reaches for his book, while Mattheo only looks down at his desk like a pouty 5 year old that just got caught.

After class Theodore lets out a frustrated grown as you walk past them in the hallway. You did nothing aside from sitting there and being pretty, yet you had him fantasizing about things that made him loosen his tie halfway during class. “I should’ve skipped class. I wrote down less than when I’m not in class.” Enzo looked confused at Theo’s statement, questioning his logic. Mattheo was about to say something, but Blaise interrupted him. “That simp! Look at him.” Blaise pointed at Draco shamelessly leaning against a wall trying to casually make conversation with you as Pansy tries not to laugh at Draco’s desperation. “No backbone, those Malfoy’s.” Mattheo scoffs. “Yeaah.” Blaise affirms absentmindedly, staring at you as you smile at Draco. Such a beautiful smile, but I bet that mouth can do more than just smile. Blaise was smirking as his thoughts got less innocent with each passing second. “We should save the poor girl.” Enzo states, pulling Blaise out his trance. “Yeah.” Blaise and Enzo quickly make their way over to you. Making Pansy grin at Mattheo and Theodore. Raising her eyebrows as a way of non-verbally taunting them: are you two really gonna just stand there with your pathetic male pride. “Tell me you have smokes. I need one.” Mattheo sighs in frustration after he finally managed to pull his eyes away from you. Theo nods. “Girls and their games. They’ll be the death of me.” Theo can’t help but take one last look at you.

***

“Pans, I really don’t think this is a good idea. Hermoine’s right I’m attracting the wrong kind of guys.” Pansy eyes roll up in annoyance. That bloody Granger-girl can squeeze the fun out of everything. “You can set them straight. Believe me, if you bat your eyes they will start behaving.” You make a face disagreeing with her. “I’m looking for fun, yeah, but I’m also looking for boyfriend material, they’re not that.” Pansy huffs. “You know nothing.” You frown in confusion. “Just play my game. You’ll get what you want.” Pansy starts walking again, but then turns on her heels looking at you still confused. “You are gonna have to pick one, preferably by tonight. I would hate to see the Slytherin boy band break up, because I really don’t think they can share.” You bite your lip softly and your mind wonders.

If Pansy was really speaking the truth and you could just have your pick. Which one? Him. If he would push you against this cold hallway wall right now you would immediately spread your legs so he could lift you up. Your neck and your jaw would be peppered with his soft kisses. You would wrap your legs around him and he would buck his hips into yours. Your mouth would fall open slightly because of all the sensations building up between your legs. He would mercilessly attack your mouth and his hands would explore every inch of your body. Squeezing your butt, making you instinctively rub your core against his growing bulge. He would cup your breasts, his thumb caressing your nipple through the fabric. “Everything alright?” Luna snaps you out of your wonderful train of thoughts. You look at her sheepishly. “Yeah. I better get going. Class, and stuff.” You push your thighs together, before fully letting go of your daydream. “I have those moments too you know, when I forget about reality.” Luna comforts you as you both walk to class. “Uhu” Is all you manage to say, not really knowing what to think.

If Blaise is you’re guy: part 2

***

“Your party outfit is a shirt?” Hermoine asks, not hiding her judgment. “It’s an oversized shirt, which makes it a dress. It’s fashion, Granger, get over it.” Pansy snaps. “You’re corrupting my friend.” Hermoine hisses at Pansy. “Oh, darling. I’m not corrupting. But some guy might.” Pansy winks, Hermoine’s mouth falls open and you stand there sheepishly looking at your feet. “I’m wearing shorts under this dress. So it’s really not that bad.” You finally manage to say. “Alright, let’s party.” Pansy says and she’s the first to walk through the doors of the room of requirement.

For Mattheo: part 2

For Theodore: part 2

For Lorenzo: part 2

#theodore nott #blaise zabini #mattheo riddle #enzo berkshire #theodore nott imagine #blaise zabini imagine #mattheo riddle imagine #theodore nott x reader #blaise zabini x reader #mattheo riddle x reader #slytherin boys #slytherin #papercorgiworldwritings

1K notes · View notes

yuujispinkhair · 8 months

Text

Gamer boyfie Kuna headcanons

These headcanons are inspired by @windlullaby-arts super sexy fanart of gamer boyfie Kuna. You said you would like someone to write about him, so I did it ;) I hope you enjoy it! Thank you so much for blessing us with that sexy art!!

Pairing: Sukuna x Reader (female) Genre: fluff + smut Word Count: 1.2k Warnings: 18+, smut, cockwarming, dirty talk, creampie, oral, cum-eating, possessive Sukuna, implied possibility of getting overheard during sex. All characters are of age. This story is 18+. Minors don't interact.

++ Gamer boyfie Sukuna, who looks so cool and so sexy, sitting there dressed all in black with his cute cat-ear headset, eyes focused on the game he is playing. But when you walk into the room, he always has time to wink at you and make a kissy face.

++ Gamer boyfie Sukuna, who is so proud when his teammates hear you through his mic and ask if that is his girl.

++ Gamer boyfie Sukuna, who loves to show you off when he asks you to join him and his boys for a game. But who gets possessive when they talk too much to you and try to hit on you in the chat. "Back off, I know she is perfect, but she is mine. You wouldn't stand a chance against me anyways."

++ Gamer boyfie Sukuna, who smirks so smugly when you walk over to him and press a kiss onto his cheek afterward, whispering in his ear that he is your only, while he starts the next round with his online friends, who complain that they already miss you.

++ Gamer boyfie Sukuna, who grins when you crawl under his desk and unbuckle his belt and open the zipper of his skinny black jeans. Who bites his lip when his thick cock slaps against your face before you take his gorgeous dark-pink tip in your mouth and suckle so sweetly on it.

++ Gamer boyfie Sukuna, who tries his best to play a good game, even while you blow him under his desk. But in the end, he can't hold back and just fucks your mouth. One large hand lands in your hair, tugging on it, and his hips buck while he moans, "Fuck yeah, princess, that was worth losing that round."

++ Gamer boyfie Sukuna, who, under normal circumstances, plays to win and, in most cases, does win because he is good at everything he does. But on the rare occasions when he loses a game (without you being the cause), he will throw a fit. Flaming everyone, getting banned, throwing his mouse against the wall, and then complaining when it doesn't work anymore.

++ Gamer boyfie Sukuna, who isn't scary in those situations, though, but rather ridiculous because he becomes so dramatic. And you know he would never shout at you or hurt you. To you, he is always the sweetest devil, purring like a kitten when you coo at him and scratch his undercut, and run your fingers through his slightly sweaty pink hair. "Aww baby, did you lose a game?"

++ Gamer boyfie Sukuna, who sighs and pulls you onto his lap, pressing a kiss to your shoulder and telling you something about how those other guys clearly used cheats! Because it cannot be that a gaming God like Sukuna loses!

++ Gamer boyfie Sukuna, who needs lots of kisses to get over the defeat. Strong, tattoed arms wrap tightly around you, keeping you on his lap while he licks into your mouth with his pierced tongue until your head spins.

++ Gamer boyfie Sukuna, who whispers hoarsely in your ear, telling you to stay on his lap while he starts a new game. It feels so good to snuggle against him, feeling his firm muscles under his shirt and his toned arms encircling you.

++ Gamer boyfie Sukuna, who gets hard when he has you so cutely on his lap in your little skirt, feeling your warm pussy press against him through your thin panties and his jeans.

++ Gamer boyfie Sukuna, who slips a hand into your panties while waiting for the game to load, playing with your pussy until he has you whimpering and squirming on his lap.

++ Gamer boyfie Sukuna, who smirks and pulls your panties to the side, murmuring to you softly, "Keep me sweet company, princess. Wanna feel your pretty pussy on my cock, keeping me nice and warm while I own all those losers."

++ Gamer boyfie Sukuna, who tells you your pussy is his good luck charm. "See, I can play even better when you sit on my cock, my sweet thing."

++ Gamer boyfie Sukuna, who makes you whine because it feels so good to cockwarm him while he plays round after round, your pussy stuffed with his thick cock, feeling so full and so loved when you snuggle against him and just feel him.

++ Gamer boyfie Sukuna, who looks at you with a passionate fire in his eyes when he is finished playing, and his large hands land on your thighs, kneading them while he rolls his hips upwards to push his thick cock deeper into your wet heat.

++ Gamer boyfie Sukuna, who tells you in that sexy low voice to ride him right here on his gaming chair. "Let's celebrate my success with a victory fuck. Thank you for being my lucky charm, baby."

++ Gamer boyfie Sukuna, who looks so sexy when he lets his head fall back against the headrest of his gaming chair, his cat-ear headset askew, eyes closed in pleasure, and lips opening in soft groans, while you ride him.

++ Gamer boyfie Sukuna, who smiles when you get up from his lap afterward, with wobbly legs and his warm cum running down your thighs. He doesn't let you get far but stops you with his strong hands, making you sit on his desk, pushing your thighs apart so he can lick your pussy clean, driving you crazy with his tongue piercing against your clit.

++ Gamer boyfie Sukuna, who also loves to play games with you, basking in the quality time you spend together. He is always very biased towards you and lets you get away with everything, letting you win and get the loot. No matter how ambitious he is, when it comes to you, he is fine with losing.

++ Gamer boyfie Sukuna, who thinks it's incredibly cute when you take his place and sit on his gaming chair wearing his cat-ear headset, playing the games you enjoy.

++ Gamer boyfie Sukuna, who spends hours playing on your account to unlock a special achievement for you so you get the mount you want so bad. Who grins broadly at you when he calls out to you, "Hey, princess, come here and look what I got for you!"

++ Gamer boyfie Sukuna, who laughs softly when you squeal and throw your arms around him. "Oh my God, Kuna!! Thank you so much, baby! But this must have taken hours!" And Sukuna just smirks that irrrestible, sexy smirk and tells you in that velvety voice, "You know I would do anything for you, princess."

++ Gamer boyfie Sukuna, who always makes sure to log off after a while and spend some time with his girl because, after all, you are his favorite toy, and playing with your pretty pussy gives him more satisfaction than any game could.

++ Gamer boyfie Sukuna, who hopefully turned his mic off before he fucks you hard on his bed, or everyone will hear your cute moans, letting them know how good he fucks you and that you only belong to him.

++ Gamer boyfie Sukuna, who doesn't just take a break from gaming to fuck you but also to take you on cute dates, or cook with you, or just lie on the couch with you, his big body curled around you, hugging you from behind, cuddling and kissing you while you watch your favorite shows together.

++ Gamer boyfie Sukuna, whose top priority will always be you. His princess, his love, his player 2.

HE GIVES ME BUTTERFLIES 😭😭😭 Thank you so much for reading! Seeing that gorgeous fanart drove me crazy!! I went into obsession mode and couldn't stop writing, and suddenly it was dark outside lol. Now I want to sit on his lap the whole time while he plays aaaaahhhhh!!!

I hope you like gamer boyfie Kuna!! Comments and reblogs would be very sweet 💗

#sukuna x reader #sukuna fluff #sukuna smut #sukuna #jjk x reader #jjk smut #jjk fluff #sukuna x you

2K notes · View notes

augustinewrites · 1 month

Text

as a captain in the luofu’s sky-faring commission, you’re no stranger to late nights. there’s always lots to do. there are expense reports to sign off on, mission summaries to type up, patrols to assign. the workload is never ending.

“here are the reports you requested, captain,” a young, bright eyed cadet says as she places a stack of papers onto an empty corner of the desk. “and your coffee.”

“thank you.” you take the cup, flashing her a grateful smile before taking a quick sip. the warm, bitter sip of espresso is exactly what you need to get through the tail end of your night. “i've sent you all the maneuvers we’ll be practicing next week, as well as patrol assignments for the month. if you have any questions–”

a few gasps cut you off, the attention of your fellow pilots drawn to the entrance.

“it’s general jing yuan!” they whisper giddily.

your brows furrow slightly. “jing yuan?”

“yes, love?”

you startle slightly when a pair of arms wrap around your waist, a shock of white hair entering your peripheral as the most powerful man on the xianzhou luofu nuzzles the crook of your neck.

“dismissed. i’ll see you all tomorrow morning,” you say quickly to the starry-eyed pilots in front of you. they scramble quickly, leaving you alone with your husband, who gives them a lazy salute.

“i missed you,” he murmurs, his breath smelling strongly of osmanthus wine.

“and i, you,” you assure him, twisting in his hold to face him and patting his cheek lightly. you see now that he’s dressed down in only the soft material of his shirt and trousers, forgoing heavy leathers and armour fashioned for a general.

when was the last time you'd seen him so relaxed in public? unburdened by the needs and conflicts within the luofu?

jing yuan preens at your attention, grasping your hand to press a kiss to your palm. he gazes at you, cheeks rosy and eyelids already beginning to droop. “shall we take our leave then?”

gods, he’s starting to lean, resting his body weight against yours so you’re struggling to hold him up. “you certainly should, love. i’ll meet you at home once i’ve finished my work.”

“i suppose i shall wait for you then,” he concedes with a great sigh, suddenly pulling away. it appears your suggestion has fallen on deaf ears, because jing yuan drags an empty chair over to your desk, plopping down into it.

given his drunken state, it’d be unwise to leave him to return home unsupervised. you wouldn’t be there to stop him from purchasing an unreasonable amount of baked goods (again) on the way home.

“fear not, lover,” he grins, crossing a leg over his knee as he makes himself comfortable. “i shall endeavour to be as silent as a mouse while you work.”

you highly doubt his ability to do so, but know that arguing with him is pointless. once the general makes a decision, his mind is impossible to change.

so he sits as quietly as he can manage, fingers drumming rapidly against his knee as he hums. it takes you a minute to identify the tune, but when you do your pen stops.

“is that our first dance song?”

“indeed.”

his chair scrapes the floor loudly as he drags it next to yours, leaning his head against your shoulder.

“jing yuan,” you sigh, rubbing your temple. “i can’t work when you’re like this.”

he takes your hand, slipping his fingers between yours. “do you find my affection…distracting?”

“incredibly.”

you very nearly cave when he brushes your hair aside, nosing at the side of your neck before pressing his lips to your pulse. “then it appears i’m doing my job as your husband.”

you stare hard at the expense reports, trying your best to focus with your lion of a man clinging to your side.

you feel a little guilty when you pull away from him, a whine escaping his pouting lips. you stand, straightening your uniform and stepping back to avoid his grasp

“stay here,” you instruct. “i’m just going to run to the archives room.”

jing yuan, as expected, does no such thing.

giggles and odd looks are cast in your direction at the sight of an arbiter general trailing after you.

“helm master!” he suddenly calls out, voice echoing through the building. your gaze darts to where his is fixed, spotting yukong walking towards you both. “i command you to relieve my wife from her duties for the night.”

she glances between the two of you, amused. “well, who am i to ignore an order from general jing yuan?”

“it’s really not necessary–”

yukong places a hand on your shoulder. “go.enjoy your night. besides, i doubt anyone will be able to get any work done with him moping about until you finish.”

she heads back to her post before you can protest, leaving you alone with the very satisfied general.

“come along, dear,” he says, scooping you up with ease and heaving you over his shoulder. he lands a firm smack to your rear when you squeal, arguing to be put down. “let’s head home and see if we can recreate the rest of our wedding night, hm?”

a/n: little drabble for @mydiluc for letting me ramble on about our fave men at random hours of the day ☺️ thank you my starshine sugarplum cupcake angel i appreciate you!!

#jing yuan x reader #hsr x reader #honkai star rail x reader #jing yuan x you #hsr x you

899 notes · View notes

adelheidvonschicksal · 24 days

Note

Don't you agree we need more A/B/O for love and deep space?

Omegaverse Scenarios with the Boys

Content warning: Omegaverse, jealousy, marking, scenting, fluff, mild sexual content, no pronouns, MORE ABO! MORE ABO!

Original Post

“You’re back.”

You whip your head around to see Xavier standing at the balcony door, looking serene as ever in the mid-morning light. The soft look the sunlight gives him brings a smile to your face. However, it quickly strains and breaks, collapsing into a frown as Xavier steps out onto the deck. There’s nothing scary about his demeanor; he seems calm as usual but there’s a subtle tension in the air that fogs heavy from him.

Wordlessly, Xavier scans you up and down, focusing on…something. You’re not sure what he’s searching for, but you suspect he’s found it when his forehead creases and his voice drops.

“Did you visit Philos while you were out?"

"How'd you guess?"

"You smell like Jeremiah,” Xavier concludes coldly, which causes you to hold on tighter to the little packet of plant food clutched between your hands. “What were the two of you doing?” he follows up; this time he fixes his face and flashes you that sweet smile.

You’re smart enough to not be fooled by the innocent expression he puts on whenever he tries to pry information out of you. However, you have nothing to hide and answer honestly.

“My friend has been sick, so I wanted to send her some flowers.”

“Is that all?”

"I also got plant food for the strawberries," you add, flashing the green packet of nutrients.

"That's not what I meant."

Your suspicion tipped off, you raise your eyebrows. “What do you mean?”

Xavier closes in on you, each step making your heart pound as he boxes you in between himself and one of the large ceramic pots homing the strawberry plant. Raising your hands to your chest, your knuckles brush against the tassels of his hoodie as you try to make some space between the two of you. It's clear you have no room to run, and a part of you isn't sure you want to escape.

Xavier reaches out to you; his hand sweeps under the collar of your black turtleneck, sending jolts through your body when his fingertips hit the sore bruise in the soft junction of your neck. The way he immediately finds that tender target reminds you of the way he hunts down wanderers with precision, persistence, and unfortunately, pinpoint accuracy. Despite the severe shivers being coerced in your soul, it doesn’t frighten you as he traces around your scent gland.

“You’re practically shaking,” he mumbles, gripping the neck of your shirt and giving a gentle tug, exposing your bond mark. “Are you cold?”

“No," you answer immediately, watching his snooping hand from your periphery, "and don’t change the subject.”

“I’m not,” he says with a shake of his head as he continues to fumble with your clothing. “I was just wondering why you were so covered up.”

“There’s no reason,” you breathe out, distracted by the fierce concentration reflecting from dark pools of blue so different from the soft glimpses and angelic gazes he normally shares with you. They strike you so deeply, peering through you so sharply that memories from how the mark was made begin to flash through your mind, fumbling any other excuses you might have said.

“None at all?” he comments, making your face warm. “If the mark hurts, it’s nothing a hot bath won’t fix.”

“It doesn’t hurt.”

“Then, why are you covering it up?” he asks; this game of cat and mouse quickly unravels when he brings up, “Did you not want Jeremiah to see it?”

“That’s not it,” you deny with a sigh, pushing his hand away.

You never understand how Xavier can be so jealous. Jeremiah is a friend to both of you; he has been for centuries from your understanding. Even if there was some point in those decades that Jeremiah possibly had feelings for you stronger than friendship, you didn’t hold those same feelings for him. You only desired to be bonded with one person, the one standing in front of you. Even when he was being a needlessly jealous dummy.

“It has nothing to do with him.”

“Do you not like the way it looks?” He questions instead, his demeanor softening only slightly with regret. With a slight blush, Xavier pouts and rubs the back of his neck. “I admit I was a little out of it when I did it.”

“There’s nothing wrong with it! It’s pretty,” you finally yell, which causes him to clamp his mouth shut enough for you to explain better. “This is the first time anyone made a bond mark on me, and it’s a little embarrassing cause then everyone knows, we’re um…” you start to lose your concentration when he looms over you. You take a sudden step back, stopping only when the pot behind you threatens to fall over when you bump it. “Doing things…together.”

Chest aching, you hope your explanation is satisfactory. You never want to make him insecure but the idea of people knowing intimate details of your love life makes you sheepish.

“So, you don’t want him to know.”

“Xavier, did you not listen to what I said?”

“I did but isn’t what you said still a roundabout way of saying you’re hiding it?” He teases with a small laugh. There’s a pleased curve in the smile on his face and a shimmering light like stardust in his eyes; unbeknownst to you, that’s from knowing he’s the first and only one to ever mark you. How proud he would be if everyone was aware of that fact. “You don’t have to be embarrassed by something so natural. Everyone, especially him, should know you’re mine and I’m yours.”

You open your mouth to protest but you’re interrupted by him grabbing your wrist in one hand to prevent you from squirming away as he hooks a finger into your turtleneck. Pulling your collar, he presses an open-mouth kiss to your bond mark then higher up to nip the soft flesh under your earlobe, higher until he's breathing into your ear.

"I'll fix it," he murmurs and kisses your neck again and again until all you can make sense of is the heat blooming along your throat with each touch of his lips.

His kisses lack his normal gentleness; they’re filled instead with a desire that makes your knees shake and buckle. You’d fallen if he hadn’t held you closer, squeezed you to him like letting go would be the end of him, as if he finds joy in feeling the aftershocks of your fluttering heart against your ribcage.

“Xavier, what are you-you-ah."

You desperately hold in the moan that builds up in your chest as he continues to bite into your skin and the sound of his kisses fills your ear smooch by smooch. Xavier chuckles against your flesh.

“Relax. I’m not going to do anything bad to you. I’m simply making a few minor adjustments to your first mark." He hums, tongue sliding along your neck to mark its target. “I think this is a good spot,” he whispers before sinking his teeth into your pulse.

It burns in a searingly blinding way, and your eyes roll up when he sucks onto your bite-broken skin. He doesn't stop until he manages to ring out a strangled moan from your throat. He cements his work with another swipe of his tongue then pulls away to admire it.

He paints that innocent smile back on his face as he locks his eyes with yours. His voice is light and airy like a weight is off his shoulders when the fresh mark peeks from your turtleneck. "This time I gave you a mark you can’t hide."

It’s another day at the arcade and another day Zayne watches you spend an exorbitant amount of money winning a plushie you could’ve easily ordered cheaper online. The Tinkle Toy you win this time is cuter than the normal fare at least. It’s a bright candy streamer rainbow, with smiling pink cotton candy clouds.

“I did it!” you cheer and hold out your prize to him in search of his approval. He congratulates you on your well-earned victory. With a smiling face, you push the toy closer to him rather than hug it to your chest in your normal possessive manner.

“What is it?”

You wave the toy back and forth. “You know.”

“I’m afraid I don’t.”

In truth, Zayne knows exactly what you want, and it makes his neck hot under the collar. He presses his pointer finger to the bridge of his glasses and pushes them further up his nose as an excuse to avoid your slowly narrowing gaze. Your previously cheerful smile flattens into a stern line and your tone becomes more demanding.

“Zayne,” you repeat ominously, like a parent scolding their child for not finishing their chores. Somehow, it always works to earn his attention, and he briefly glances over the toy again; it looks much less cute this time, the carefully stitched smiles now a mocking grin.

Zayne examines his surroundings: the kids running around the overly decorated and gaudy arcade, the bored and drowsy-eyed employees behind the gift counter, the many older siblings and parents trying to win tickets for the little ones, and, well, you, glaring him down. That look tells him you’re not going to be willing to let this go despite how crowded the arcade has become in your short time here.

“You want me to scent your toy for you?” he questions, adding for emphasis, “Right here?”

“Rainbow Candy can’t join the other plushies in the nest without being christened by the leader.” Poking out your lip, you give him the biggest puppy eyes you can muster. It doesn’t move him enough to give in, not until your eyes start to gloss like stained glass and you softly plead, “Please, Dr. Zayne.”

Ice quickly breaks and chips in the mildest bit of sunlight, dissolving into warm puddles, and it’s just like that when Zayne finally breaks and melts at the smallest insistence from you. Grabbing the toy, Zayne quickly shoves it against his throat, ignoring how plush the toy feels against the underside of his chin. He trails it up and down the column of his neck, swiping it one final time under his chin. It’s a simple motion, done quickly and precisely to efficiently cover the toy in his scent in the least amount of time possible, yet it still feels so inappropriate to do here under your watchful, yearning gaze threatening to make his body stiff.

As he feels his limit about to be broken, he hands the rainbow back to your waiting arms.

“Is this satisfactory?”

You squeeze onto the toy as if someone could snatch it away. You press your face against it, smelling deeply, and when you look up at him from under your brow it’s with the sweetest smile he thinks he’s ever witnessed.

“Your best work yet, Dr. Zayne. Good job!” you giggle, and he has half a mind to pinch your cheek and wipe that childish grin off your face. “Now, I’ll have something to remember you by while you’re at work today.”

“Is that why you demand I scent all your toys?” he asks, and you nod slowly.

“You’re always so busy that I hardly get to see you outside of the hospital, so when I get lonely I just cuddle with these guys,” you confess. You press your nose deeper into one of the garishly pink cotton candy clouds; this time when your eyes waver like watery skies, it isn’t to sway him. “When the teddies smell like you, it’s like I’m holding a piece of you too.”

Those words connect everything that has ever happened between the two of you together, stringing the moments like a red line of fate. Despite the words I love you never leaving your lips, it excites the same effect that can make a sane man an idiot, an effect not even Zayne is immune to when you so innocently and freely express your feelings to him.

It’s a skill he struggles with; though for you and your happiness, he’s willing to give in and let loose the restrained mask he wears on his face as he listens to the one person he’s longed for all this time admit that they get lonely without him beside them.

“I think scenting you before my shift would be more comforting,” he offers; the adoration glowing in your irises makes him weak enough to stroke your forehead with the back of his hand. There’s a little whimper muffled into your plushie while your forehead feels hot to touch before your face falls into shock and your eyes dart around the room, like his before. As sweet and innocent as you can be, you can also be very easy to read. “You’re thinking inappropriately.”

“I wasn’t—”

“Not here.”

“I wasn’t going to ask.”

Zayne gently pokes your forehead to clear your head of the improper thoughts running through it causing you to whine and rub the spot, which only reminds him how you’re much, much cuter than any plushie.

You hold in a giggle as Rafayel shoves his face against the crook of your neck. Since you came over to his studio, he hasn’t been able to tear himself away from you, which left you sitting on the couch, covered in little splotches of dried paint, trying to discern why he feels the need to drag his hands down your arm and audibly sniff your hair.

His breath is heavy and ragged as he sucks in a breath, or rather your scent, and continues to trace up your skin until his finger can finally sink into the collar of your button-up. “Did you do something different today? New lotion? Bath Soap?”

“I did what I normally do every day.”

Rafayel groans against your skin again. You haven’t seen him hot and bothered, face soaked and flushing red with fever, since his last ebb day, which already happened earlier this year.

“Are you sure?” His lips on your skin feel so familiar that your body is immediately on edge and reacting to every stuttered exhale he makes whenever your leg so much as brushes against him. He sinks closer to you, removing any space in between your bodies. “You smell delectable.”

“Rafayel?”

“I just want a taste.”

“Rafayel, are you rutting?”

“No, I’m not,” he groans, laps your shoulder without any care for the fabric covering it, then pricks his canines against vulnerable, pulsing skin. You can tell he’s about to lose it when he pops the first button on your shirt, not even paying attention to the way his nails draw across your upper chest. “I’m just…admiring you…there’s nothing wrong with that.”

There’s a whimper melting from his mouth when you press your hand to his chest and push away. Your confidence is quickly rising thanks to the pitiful expression on his face, highlighted by parted, puffy lips and wide violet-pink eyes fogged with hazy lustful clouds.

“I charge by the hour for appearances.”

Rafayel huffs lightly in response. Something about him is different today; something that your experience tells you is due to the rut he fails to explain away. He misses the usual flare he has, the coy seduction that he uses to draw you in. He trades it for brute force, spurred by the mind-numbing need to have this fire in him quenched inside of you as he grips your wrist and forces you closer to him.

“Just send any charges directly to the studio,” he pants out in desperation between sporadic breaths. His voice hitches, forming a short gasp when you grip his chin and focus his sights back on you. He follows so readily at any touch you offer him no matter how rough. Your mind was becoming fuzzy with how much power you have when he’s like this.

“I only take payments in kisses, but I’ll be sure to let Thomas know.”

There’s a moment where his eyes narrow, perhaps in frustration, before they drop and lock on your mouth; specifically, he's memorized by the motion of your tongue glancing across your lips. Rafayel is only consumed with thoughts of how gravely he wants to be the one wetting them despite doing so hundreds of times before. His body wildly craves yours like the months before he was graced with a taste of you, or maybe this yearning is because he knows exactly how it feels to be touched by you as you are now. Rafayel isn't sure which it is anymore, the lines fade and blur, becoming harder to trace by the second. It hurts being this vulnerable, his body uncontrolled by himself, but if you’re his mate then there isn’t anything to fear, at least not this time.

“On second thought, I really should settle my own debts.”

“Are you sure you can afford it?”

“I’ll gladly pay you with interest, darling,” he barely manages to force out in his last single coherent thought. “Now, let me taste you already.”

Rafayel leans closer, aiming for your lips, but is stopped by your nail dragging up the center of his neck, unhindered by the thick gulp he takes to stop his heart from jumping into his throat. You creep your finger up his chin, stopping at the point to force his head up and eyes to lock with yours. The smile on your face is torturous, the look in your eyes out to kill as your lips purse and part to form one simple word,

“Beg.”

The arrogant smirk on your face says you know he will; Rafayel knows he will; anything for a small taste to quench this thirst built in him since eternity for you, but he also knows he’ll have you in his trap instead very soon.

#xavier x reader #zayne x reader #rafayel x reader #love and deepspace x reader #xavier smut #rafayel smut #zayne fluff #love and deepspace smut #love and deepspace fluff #omegaverse #tw:omegaverse #adelssmut #notsfw

693 notes · View notes

luveline · 3 months

Note

Hi !!! Can I request something romantic between shy reader and spence? maybe he’s like trying to teacher her something and they’re alone? IDK WRITE WHATEVER U WANNA RIGHT ILL EAT IT UP REGARDLESS <3

Your stomach hurts and you need to pee, but you’re stuck. You’ve been trying to submit your virtual paperwork for the last two hours. Why have they made it this difficult? You’re beginning to wonder if you’re being hazed.

Spencer told you it was easy. Well, he’d put a cup of tea on your desk (for which you hadn’t asked but gratefully accepted), seen you were starting your paperwork, and said, “I’ll see you for lunch in half an hour?” with a knowing smile.

You’d smiled back. You want to be in the know with him, even if you’d needed a ten minute recovery period after he left to learn to breathe through your nose again.

But it became clear after half an hour you wouldn’t be taking lunch, let alone joining him. Nervous sweat dampens your hands and the back of your shirt, and your face burns with heat —why is the office scorching? You’re in hell.

You click another button, sure you’ve found the right process, but a yellow triangle appears with an exclamation mark inside. Function suppressed, it says.

“Oh, good,” Spencer says, approaching from behind, a coffee. “I thought you stood me up. You’re struggling with the system?”

“I wouldn’t say struggling.”

“You don’t need any help, then?”

“Please,” you say softly, worried someone else will hear you. You don’t want anyone in the team nor the unit to realise how inept you are. It’s bad enough that Spencer’s cottoned on. “I can’t get it to work.”

“I was kidding,” he says, smiling tentatively at you. “Let me get my chair.”

Spencer tortures you sitting beside you, knee to knee and arm over your arm as he guides your mouse to the right page, then the correct paperclip. His watch falls down his wrist and brushes your skin with each direction, spurring chills all over. “You’re pretty much done,” he says.

“I don’t know why I was so confused,” you say bashfully.

“Because it’s a confusing system.” He smells like warm vanilla. You wish you could ask him about it, but you’ve a job to talk this close to him.

“Thank you for helping.”

He clicks through the last part of your file to check for any missing paperclips before he sends it off. “You’re welcome.” Then, because he secretly hates you, he takes your arm into his hand with achingly careful fingers. “Are you cold?” He rubs at your goosebumps. He has really nice hands, with strong veins. He moves purposefully.

Another rush of goosebumps down your arm. “Are you okay?” he asks, his eyebrows tugged together worriedly.

“I’m just,” —mortified— “embarrassed about the paperwork. I didn’t know there would be this many online responsibilities involved, I would’ve looked them up.”

Spencer’s eyebrows rise as your sentence ends. You’d mangled ‘looked them up’, said it breathless as his hand curled around your fingers.

“Don’t worry about all of that. You can always ask me for help. Right? I sit right there.” He points to his desk. “Did you forget?”

Something about his tone suggests that he already knows you didn’t forget, but he takes your thank you gracefully, and continues pretending you’re cold rather than physically affected by his touch. He’s nice like that.

“Here, in case you’re still cold,” he says, too casual, draping his suit jacket over your shoulders.

Not that nice.

#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

1K notes · View notes

callmemickey · 8 months

Text

Pepsi Cola

synopsis: Simon is on his break, but that doesn’t mean you stop working. After a full two weeks of mandatory overtime to complete a project, you were exhausted, absolutely beat. Simon’s been home for a few weeks and was starting to feel guilty. Watching you come home so tired you pass out on the couch? It was frustrating seeing you so drained. Well… it’s Friday night, and you’re sooo exhausted, love - why don’t you lie down and let Simon help you relax?

content: afab, porn w a plot, smut (GET YA PUSSY ATE!!!, fingering, overstim), not fluff?per se but he loves u.

word count: ~3.6k I think idk

notes: Title named after Cola by Lana Del Rey hayyyy iykyk

xxxxxxxxxxxx

Your keys felt so heavy in your hand as you attempted to fish them out of your deep, cluttered purse. They were tangled on something, and with an infuriated grunt, you yanked terribly hard, jerking them violently out of the thralls of your corded headphones. You really needed to switch to wireless. You fumbled them momentarily in your hand, trying to find your house key as the small porch light was your only guide, the sky dark like navy ink. “Fuck,” you mumbled, finally finding the key and opening the front door.

Soft, warm lights lit up the entryway, beckoning you to enter the fortress of comfort, an escape from the throes of responsibilities and existing. A groan left your lips as you closed the heavy door and locked it. The house smelled delicious like a home cooked meal, reminding you that Simon saved you dinner for when you came home. Your stomach growled, eager. “I’m home.” Your voice was loud and filled with fatigue as you called out to your fiancé, always making sure to signal that it was you and not someone breaking in.

You’ll never forget when you tried to surprise him one time. When you got into the living room, presumably as quiet as the dead, he had grabbed you and flipped you onto the couch. “You’re lucky I knew that was you. Wanna know what’d I do if you were a thieving little mouse?” You said yes, and later told him you’ll need to break in more often as he was putting his shirt back on, his back covered with red hot stripes from your fresh manicure.

You walked down the hallway, kicking off your high heels, shuffling towards the living room, your pantyhose helping you glide across the hardwood floors as lifting your feet felt nigh impossible. Simon, ever attentive, met you in the hallway before you could even get into the living room. “Ah, love, you must be exhausted.” His tone was soft, calming, and understanding. The energy that poured from you was prickly and sharp at best, cannibalistic at worst, because while he wanted to generously touch your arm, he was worried for his.

Your purse dropped unceremoniously from your shoulder and onto the floor as you trudged over to the couch. “This week has been terrible,” you grumbled as you plopped chest first onto the cushions, “so much overtime to get a project done for the shareholders. As if it’s my fault that budgets were cut.” Your voice was muffled in the fabric.

The couch sunk by your feet as you felt Simon’s hand gingerly begin to rub your toes, arches, and heels. His thumbs gently but firmly pressing into the swollen, tired flesh of your foot elicited a moan of relief from you. “C’mon, Y/N, why don’t you go wash up? I have your dinner in the oven - I’ll get it started. Let’s go.” His voice was still delicate, supportive.

Simon ushered you up and you sighed, giving a small nod in agreement.

You went into the bathroom and stripped off your clothes. You knew what you were getting into when you were promoted to senior marketing manager, but recently you wished you had better foresight. You turned on the shower, hoping that the hotter the water, the more likely it will boil and burn off any trace of this week happening. As you washed your hair and body, you thanked whatever god allowed for Hell Week to be over. When you felt you were thoroughly cleansed from files, papers, and way too many sticky notes, you ended your shower, wanting to forget the sound of telephones ringing and keyboards clacking.

With a towel wrapped around your body and hair, you stepped out of the bathroom and sighed, the hot, fragrant steam spilling over into the cool bedroom, licking the air. You took the towel off of your head, gently squeezing water out of your hair as you walked to the dresser. You opened your underwear drawer with your hand, humming at your options.

“Feelin’ better?” Simon’s voice purred from the doorway. You looked over and saw him leaning against the doorway, arms crossed - and they briefly rippled with a flex, as if he were holding back. You did a double take, glancing from his feet up at his face. His eyes were half-lidded and a small half smirk sat on his lips. You knew that look. He was ravenous.

“Yeah. Why’re you lookin’ at me like that?” You asked before attempting to divert your attention back to the drawer.

“Like what?” He uncrossed his arms, strolling over to you, towering high above. You looked up at Simon’s face.

“Like that!” You couldn’t help but giggle as he buried his face against your neck, sniffing your smooth skin, inhaling the floral scent of your body wash so deep, letting it etch in his memory like carving stone.

He molded his body against yours, hands gripping deeply at your waist, fingers pressed into the plush towel. Your hands reached to wrap around his neck. His warm lips began to leave deep, hot trails against your skin, causing you to sigh in satisfaction. Simon kept your bodies tight together, lips trailing up to your ear. He nibbled at your earlobe, sucking gently at the flesh before biting at the shell, creating a surge of pleasure to pool in your core. You whimpered, hips bucking against his jeans. Your chest heaved in shallow sighs while he continued teasing you, breathing hot puffs against your ear, letting goose bumps sweep across your skin.

“Let me take care of you.” His voice was a hot whisper, and what he gave to you was not a suggestion, but a demand.

“Mmm, you don’t have to baby,” you purred softly, a tame deferment, placidly defying him.

You tested the waters and he called your bluff. He squeezed at your waist, a little firmer than you thought he would. His voice was a low growl, “Take off your towel and lie on the bed.”

Your body began to hum on the same frequency as his, his jeans becoming incredibly firm against your stomach. Simon pulled away, his half-lidded eyes darkening as they swirled with an insatiable drive. Your breath hitched in your chest, your stomach flipping as your cunt twitched in need.

You paused for too long. A hand left your waist and came down hard on your ass and gripped the fat flesh. You yelped more so at the sudden action than the sting. “And what do you say?” He asked, and your arousal caused you to feel your cheeks flush hot.

Your chest heaved. “Yes, sir.” Your voice was quiet, and he smiled.

“Thas my good girl, so god damn beautiful and smart. Go on then, let me see those gorgeous tits.” He moved his hands away from your ass and waist.

Your stomach flipped again, but you obliged, loosening the towel and letting it fall to the floor. Simon took a deep inhale, exhaling sharply as he eyed your body, and right now he looked like he desperately needed to sink his cock into you, but that wasn’t really part of his plan tonight.

He inhaled one more time, blinking himself back to reality as he gave your ass pleasant tap with just enough force to get it to jiggle. “Fuckin’ hell, Y/N, get your arse on that bed now.” He was at the point of fully commanding you around, but you were okay with that, and you would do anything he ever asked of you. Anything for your wonderful fiancé.

“Yes, sir.” You said coyly, causing his lips to twitch back into a smirk. You felt yourself melt a little while you walked over to the bed, plopping down on the edge.

Simon walked over to you, so unbelievably tall while you were sitting down. Heat pooled down to your stomach when you glanced down at his jeans. You looked back up at him, licking your bottom lip absentmindedly. He smiled, sighing. “Not tonight, love.” He scolded lovingly.

“Later?” You asked.

He paused, thinking for a moment before nodding. “Later,” he agreed, letting you win - which caused you to smile mischievously.

Simon leaned down to you, grabbing you by your waist and tossing you up higher onto the bed. You yelped with a smile, giggling as you fell down on your back, bouncing softly on the down blanket. Simon’s lips came down against yours, giving you little to no time to adjust. His hands, gentle on the naked flesh of your waist, whispered ghostly touches up your sides before eventually cupping your breasts. Your moans were lost in his mouth as his fingers squeezed and rubbed at your nipples, your hands finding themselves lost in his hair. You squeezed his hips with your thighs, your cunt swollen, begging and weeping for his abuse.

He moved his lips down to your neck, kissing, sucking, and gently biting you. Simon moved a hand from your breast and used it as leverage next to your head while the other hand slid down your front, tickling your sensitive skin, roaming over your stomach and mound. His fingers dipped down between your folds, pressing into your wet heat. You let out a pathetic whimper at the contact alone, raising it into a moan as his fingers rubbed slow circles against your clit.

“Ah, yeah? You like that, Y/N?” He purred against your neck before pulling away to see your reaction. You bit your lower lip and nodded feverishly at him, eyebrows furrowed. Simon smiled, your wet hair sticking to your face, providing a cool relief to the heat that swarmed your body like a furnace.

“Ye-yeah, yes- yes, sir,” you managed to gasp out. His smile turned into a smirk as he felt your cunt twitching. As if answering your unspoken prayers, his two digits dipped and pushed into your needy hole. A gasp was ripped from you, jaw dropping slightly at the sudden filling of your cunt.

“God, already so wet - my girl has the best fucking pussy.” He gave a small thrust, causing you to moan gently and buck your hips. “Oh, the things I’d do just to have my cock buried in you,” he growled before gently pumping his fingers.

Your tits bounced as his digits softly fucked into you, fingers curling up and rocking your hips, pressing into that spot that had your eyes rolling back. Your grip left his hair and soon grasped desperately onto his back, causing him to groan while your nails dug at him. “Ha, ah, harder,” you gasped as your hips bucked against his hand.

Simon smiled. “Yeah? You wanna cum on my fingers, don’tcha baby?” He asked, your cunt twitching embarrassingly at his words.

“Yes- yes, sir, please!” You whined.

“Hold on, love,” he sighed before rocking his fingers into you at an ungodly pace.

Your voice raised pitch before becoming lost in your throat, your head thrown back and eyes gone. All that filled the room was the sounds of your juices squelching against his fast moving digits. The silence was soon cut, moans finally finding their way out of you. Your fingernails dragged frantically at his back, as if you were fighting to stay grounded. Your cunt constricted harshly around his fingers, trapping him.

Your orgasm ripped through you, your hips bucked against his fingers and your thighs squeezed at his hips. Like a cool tidal wave poured over you, a chill ran down your back as your body surged with pleasure, leaving you crying out Simon’s name. He chuckled softly with a gentle voice, “Ahhh, thas my good girl, huh?” His voice was like a warm blanket of clouds, helping you down from your dizzying high. He pulled his fingers out and gave a small slap to your pussy, causing you to whine and your hips to stutter as he teased the tender flesh.

“Jesus, Simon,” you whimpered, your head still swimming in the aftershocks of pleasure.

He chuckled at your reaction while planting kisses down your neck and collarbone, stopping at your breasts to lope a nipple into his mouth. You let out a throaty groan as his teeth pulled at the sensitive, hardened bud. Your nails that raked at his back moved back up to his hair, the pads of your fingers pressing firmly into his scalp as his locks slid and tightened betweens your digits. The sensation had him sighing against your mounds.

He released your breast from his mouth, his teeth squeezing at your nipple before fully letting go, causing you to let out a small yelp. Simon began to kiss down your chest and the expanse of your stomach. He placed deep kisses at your hips before heading towards the simmering heat of your cunt - sticky, wet, and begging. He looped his arm under your thigh, hand holding your hip to keep you in place.

Simon’s lips pressed against your swollen clit, causing you to gasp harshly. His tongue, flat and hot, slid up your folds, extracting a long moan from you, and in response he moaned. “I’ve been waiting all night for this,” he hummed against your cunt, the vibrations of his voice driving straight to your core.

You groaned, your hips grinding against him in response which caused him to chuckle against you. “O-oh God, Simon!” You cried at the overwhelming stimulation, your legs shaking at his persistence as he buried his mouth into your cunt.

Simon lapped at you hungrily like a man dehydrated, drinking at your sloppy pussy as if he’d never be able to go back down on you again. It was gluttony and pure greed. He had commented before about how he hopes his manner of passing is drowning while you straddle his face. You laughed and said maybe one day! He didn’t think your joking demeanor was appropriate, and how he meant every word with serious intent. Whenever he’s being deployed on a mission, he always assures you he won’t die, because you’re the only one that could take him out. Of course, you didn’t truly understand the depth of his conviction.

Simon’s teeth gently nibbled and helped to create a suction around your clit, his dampened fingers once again finding your hole and pushing in. You let out a loud moan, your hips driving against his face, his nose pressing onto your mound as he did everything he could to keep you two attached, connected. He moved his head to match with your movements, keeping his mouth glued flat to your pussy, and any attempt to pull yourself away from him would prove futile.

Your fiancé has a wonderfully keen gift of being a giver. He was always so incredibly selfless with you, which could get almost aggravating as he was certain on making sure that your needs were met first. This attitude carried over to the bedroom. He could give you fifty orgasms and beg to give you fifty more while never even taking his shirt off.

What he loves, besides bringing you pleasure you’ve never experienced before, is seeing you lost in passion. Watching your face twist as he stretches you with an additional finger, your eyes rolling back as he hits that sweet spot, your hips grinding as you chase after your orgasm, your back arching and legs shaking as the euphoria and bliss crash over and through you. Simon got off by simply being the source of your arousal, and he savored unraveling you thread by thread before you’re bare before him.

That’s what he loved.

Your pleasure brimmed to the top, the lip, before finally pouring over. Your hands gripped tight at his scalp, legs tightened around his head as your back arched, head thrown back. Your cunt tightened deliciously around his pumping digits, his tongue still swirling around your clit as he rode out your orgasm. “F-Fuck, Simon!” You cried, moaning loudly, still holding onto him as the high came to slow, but he didn’t stop.

He continued to pump and lap at your clit, causing you to squeal in overstimulation, legs beginning to shake as a concoction of pleasure and pain pulsed through your core with every pass of his tongue. “I can’t- ah! Simon, please!” You sobbed, begging him to stop. A harsh groan left you, your body trying to shake him away as he kept his mouth to you. It wasn’t fair - it was too much. You were starting to burnout, your body sore and barely able to keep up. Regardless of your exhaustion, another orgasm was in the horizon, slowly reaching it’s peak before ultimately falling into a frenzied bliss.

“You gonna cum again, baby?” Simon mumbled against your sex, the vibrations causing you to groan roughly as your hands moved from his head to the sheets, grasping them with a white-knuckled grip, back arched impossibly high as you tried to wriggle away. You nodded frantically at his question, your body squirming and tossing with no ability to stop or control it as he pushed you to your limits.

You never doubt that Simon can bring you another orgasm in quick succession - he’s proven that true multiple times, almost every time, especially now. Your poor clit, though, was bullied and battered, the bundle of nerves crying out in both pain and pleasure. But it was a slave to Simon. Even during the loneliest of nights, months in bed by yourself, you could never make yourself feel how he makes you feel. It was maddening, and frankly unfair, but it made the intimate times with him all the more exhilarating and mind numbing. What makes it better is that no one but Simon has been able to bring you into such a state of ecstasy.

Simon’s free hand, still wrapped around your thigh and holding onto your hip, held you so tightly in place he pinched at your skin. You were going to bruise there, you knew, but you didn’t really care. Even though it was like edged like a razor, your release was fast approaching with no stops. You panted heavily, loudly, your body involuntarily writhing as the pleasure tipped you over the scale. His tongue dragged hot and firm against your clit, his fingers still thrusting and rubbing the spongy spot inside your cunt as the muscle enclosed and clamped around him, unforgiving.

“Oh, God!” You cried loudly, tears pricking at your eyes as you used a hand to cover your face.

Your orgasm came fast and sharp. His onslaught was staggering and unrelenting, and it brought an end that was piercing, sudden. A scream was ripped from you as the pleasure came like a heavy punch, borderline painful. It was a surge of electricity that ripped through your core, shocking your nerves and forcing your body to briefly tense… but it all dissipated almost immediately. Your mind and body crashed.

Your back collapsed onto the bed and Simon’s fingers slid out of your clenching cunt, his mouth pulling away from your swollen, angry clit. A moan of relief fell out of your mouth as Simon crawled atop you, a hand pushing the hair out of your face as he planted his lips onto yours, kissing you deeply and fully. Your juices had coated his lips in abundance, and you tasted yourself as his tongue slipped into your mouth. His tongue was slick, and he made sure that you entire mouth was coated with yourself.

He pulled back, allowing you the space to sit up, delirious, face hot and wet from sweat. Simon stifled a laughter behind a tightly pursed mouth. “What.” Your tone strained with trying to demand an answer, but it was hoarse from your yelling and crying.

He shook his head, his eyes fluttering. “Your hair, love.”

Your hands shakily went to your hair, feeling it messy and sticking up at odd angles. “Ah.” You nodded, trying to run your fingers through to flatten it out.

Simon preemptively got up to the bathroom and came out with a brush, taking a seat behind you as he silently began brushing out your hair, starting at the ends. You two took the moment quietly, slowly, and embraced just being in each other’s presence. The session was hot and heavy, and having Simon nearby, gently brushing out your vicious knots, was soothing on your frazzled nerves, like aloe on a sunburn. “You feelin’ good, babe?” He asked in a quiet tone.

You hummed. “Yeah, but that last one was really intense.” You commented, eyebrows briefly furrowed as the third orgasm continued to make your body shudder. His hands suddenly wrapped deep in your hair at the base of your scalp, and with a gentle tug, he pulled your head back to look at him, causing you to gasp quickly.

“Were you able to handle it?” His brown eyes bore into you, and you gave a restrained nod, almost forgetting that his hand was keeping your head steady.

Your voice was meek and small, “Yes, sir.”

Simon smiled, kissing your forehead. “That’s my girl,” he purred, gingerly releasing your head and putting the brush on the nightstand. He gave you a kiss on the top of your head as he stood up, commenting about checking on dinner.

You noticed his cock was rock solid in his jeans, pressing and straining against the denim so tight it must’ve hurt. God, you wanted to return the favor more than you could possibly put into words. He noticed your gaze and his hand cupped your jaw, tilting your head upwards so your eyes met his.

“Later, like we agreed.” His voice was low, firm, and painfully arousing. Literally. Your clit throbbed with both the need to be doted on and to also be left alone for a long, long time. “Get dressed. I’ll be in the kitchen.” With that, Simon left you to your own devices in the bedroom.

You got up out of bed, inhaling sharply through your nose at the feeling of your beaten cunt being squeezed between your legs. You hobbled to the dresser, resuming your original task. Underwear. Grabbing a random pair, along with pajama shorts and a shirt, you found yourself comfortable and ready for the night, making sure to slide on your robe so you didn’t get chilly.

The evening progressed. You sat on the floor in front of the coffee table, eating your dinner while Simon sat on the couch behind you, running his fingers through your hair, lazily braiding your locks as a movie played on the television. Your lovely fiancé also made sure you were planted on the softest, fluffiest pillow he could find. When you were finished, he made you sit on the couch while he cleaned up, coming back just to delicately massage your feet. It was tender, romantic, thoughtful. Simon wasn’t a very… physically affectionate partner, so these moments when he just wanted to be with you, to touch you, well, you really tried to get as much as you could.

When he was finished, his hands slid up your smooth calves towards your thighs, beckoning you to cuddle closer - to which you did. You hopped across the couch where the back of your legs were draped over his thighs, nestling your body in close to his, letting him wrap his large arm around your shoulders to keep you close. Oh, you couldn’t even put into words how peaceful being wrapped up in his arms made you feel. Warm, secure, safe. His other hand sat on your thigh, his veins and tendons prominent, titillating, twisting around his forearms, making the black ink of his tattoo dance. What was even hotter was seeing these veins and tendons flex and and tighten as his hands gripped the sheets or headboard as he fucked you to nirvana, until nothing but prayers and begging for God spilled and tumbled from your mouth in an indistinguishable slur.

“Why so nice tonight?” You asked him in a quiet voice, looking up at him while resting your head against his chest.

Without hesitation, he looked down at you. “Do I need a reason?” Your stomach fluttered, heat spreading to your face. You shook your head. “You’ve been stressed and working late this week. Least I could do,” he explained regardless and shrugged, rubbing the fresh stubble on his jaw.

Simon’s been back for a month, and you’ve been so busy you feel like you’ve barely seen him. He gets up extremely early to see you before work, make you breakfast and coffee, and prepare your lunch. All day he makes sure the house is clean and chores are done, opting to even overhaul the landscaping in the front yard - something you’ve been too busy to do. At night, he always waits for you to come home, dinner ready if you haven’t eaten. He makes sure you’re showered and taken care of before starting the whole routine again in the morning. You didn’t necessarily feel less than or that you’re lacking in the relationship, but it was infuriating not being able to take care of your fiancé while he has worked tirelessly to keep the world from blowing up.

But that wasn’t wholly true, was it? Sure, you felt that way, having openly admitted your insecurities to him, but Simon has always been genuine and adamant in letting you know that you’re doing so much more when you don’t have to. While he loves that you’re on your corporate grind, he’s made it clear that if you told him you never wanted to lift your hand again, you wouldn’t. Of course, with weeks, and honestly, months like these, you get closer and closer to considering to take him up on his offer. Then you could be that sweet, doting housewife, eager for her husband to come home from war.

“So,” you started, grabbing his attention and warm gaze, “is it later yet?”

#ouch my puthy!#cod mw2 #ghost smut #ghost x reader #ghost x you #simon ghost riley #simon riley #simon riley smut #simon riley x reader #simon riley x you

2K notes · View notes