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youvebeenlivingfictional · 3 days

Text

the pro

Pairing: Art Donaldson x Reader

Rating: Explicit - 18+ only. minors, please get off my lawn.

Notes: My brain chose violence this morning. Not beta-read because when is it ever.

Length: 4.8K

Warnings: Slow burn; unhappily married reader; divorced Art Donaldson; infidelity; oral sex (female receiving); vaginal sex; unsafe sex

Summary: Every lesson becomes an exercise in self-control. You force yourself to try, really try, and not make silly mistakes for the sake of Art coming closer, grasping your arm or elbow, pressing close and redirecting your swing. You don’t know what you crave more these days: his praise or his touch.

He's the biggest men's tennis star since Andy Roddick.

That’s what your husband says, as if it’ll entice you. As if you know anything about tennis, about the pro that your husband says will be coming to the house to teach you to play.

It’ll be good for you. You need a hobby.

You don’t gripe or argue. You don’t tell him that five months into your marriage shouldn’t have you looking for a new hobby. You should still be in the honeymoon stage, spending all of your time with him, hanging off of his arm, off of his every word. But he works so much and he’s away so often—

I don’t want you to get bored.

It’s a sweet gesture. The maid handles the housework; you have a chef that handles most of the grocery shopping and cooking, unless you insist on making something yourself; you have a housekeeper that arranges for anything you need—dry cleaning, maintenance. And it’s no wonder that with all of his money, his power, he can just order a retired pro tennis player up to your house, like you’d order a pizza. There’s a tennis court in the back of the mansion, a few feet from the pool. You’ll get some new outfits, the best sneakers, the nicest rackets. You’ll finally have something to do to fill your days.

Art Donaldson.

You know his name before the lean, fair-skinned patrician man turns up at your front door. He trails you through the house, politely declines your offer of a beverage.

“You ever played tennis before?” He asks.

You haven’t. Before your husband arranged this for you, you hadn’t so much as given the sport more than a passing thought. You don’t have the heart or confidence to tell that to a man that’s made tennis his whole life, so you just give him a small, guilty smile and say no, you haven’t. He nods, waves you off, insists that it’s fine.

“We’ll start with the basics.”

Two months of lessons on the basics make your arms tired, and your hands sore. But where your swings are clumsy and your grip is weak at first, you can see improvement in the way that you move. Your steps are less clumsy when you go after a ball; you’re more aware of the service line and the base line; your forehand stroke from contact to your left shoulder is smoother; your rotation and follow-through on your backhand is coming along, but has a long way to go.

Art’s instruction is calm and steady. He explains technique as much as he demonstrates it. When you get something wrong, he doesn’t scold, just lightly corrects. When you do something well, his encouragement is constant and free-flowing. Every accurate move and motion is met with, “Nice,” or, “Perfect,” or, “That’s it.”

On the days when you don’t have a lesson with Art, you practice. You order a tennis ball machine to work on your forehand and backhand. You attempt (and fail) to learn how to slice on your own. You try anyway—you can only imagine the way his eyes might light up if you manage to surprise him.

You’ve tried to ignore the rising interest that you have in Art, but you can’t help the little…Crush that’s developed. He’s just so attentive, and kind. When you find yourself smiling these days, it’s often because of something that he said, or did. You can’t remember the last time your husband made you feel giddy this way. It was probably when you started dating—before you’d made the decision to marry for comfort, rather than love. Your husband is practical, rarely physically affectionate, more heavily involved in his job and social circles than with you.

But you’ll have to find a way to thank him. He’s given you a hobby, and a man that grins at you like you just painted the goddamn Mona Lisa when you serve your first ace.

“So, tell me about the Mark Rebellato Academy.”

Art smiles, dipping his head as he reaches for his coffee. It’s taken a few months, but you finally convince him to have something to drink with you after practice. Your chef is blessedly out shopping for ingredients for dinner, so you have the kitchen all to yourself. Art has watched you putter around, seeming surprised that you know where everything is. You can’t blame him; the kitchen is chef-grade, and you don’t cook much these days.

“Did your husband tell you that’s where I went?”

“No.”

“Then how do you know?”

You’re too embarrassed to admit that you’ve done some googling, and watched a couple of clips of him interviewing before and after his matches.

“I’ve just heard,” You fib. “Tell me about it?”

He leans back in his seat, eyes skating across your face as he seems to consider something.

“What do you wanna know?”

“Did you enjoy it? I mean—” It feels like a dumb question once it’s out, and you hurry to redirect, “With what you know now, if you had the choice, would you have learned how to play tennis somewhere else?”

He considers for a moment, trailing his finger over the side of his cup. Your gaze flits to his fingers, and your own flex around your mug handle. You’ve spent far too much time looking at and thinking about Art’s fingers—their length and quickness; the slight roughness of his calloused hands; the lingering tan line from where his wedding band used to sit.

“Yeah,” He admits, drawing your full attention back to his face. “I would. It was foundational, you know. I’ve been thinking of sending Lily there.”

“Lily?”

A bittersweet smile twists his lips. “My daughter.”

“Oh!” It catches you off-guard.

“Tashi, uh—” He clears his throat, “Lily’s mother, my ex-wife. She and I are thinking about schools.”

“I’m sure they’d be glad to have her. Does she play tennis?”

“Little bit. She didn’t start until last year, but she's a natural.” He clears his throat again, presses, “Are you and your husband planning on having kids?”

“Oh god no.” You blurt it out, and realize as he raises his brows that you’ve spoken too quickly. You lean back in your seat, stirring your coffee quickly to distract yourself from your growing embarrassment. “He actually has kids already. Two girls, seven and ten. They’re at boarding school and they stay with their mother when they're on vacation. I haven’t gotten to spend much time with them.”

“...He seems to be pretty busy.”

“He is.”

“So it’s just you in this big house?” He tips his head to the side, brows knitting with curiosity. “What do you do all day?”

“Play tennis.”

He grins, chuckling, and your stomach flips at the sound.

“It shows, you know,” He says.

“What do you mean?”

“I can tell you’re practicing without me. And,” He leans across the table, running his fingers lightly over the exposed skin of your bicep, “You’re getting stronger.”

You wonder if he can see or feel the goosebumps that break out across your skin at the gentle sweep, his gaze heavy on yours.

“I have a good teacher,” You murmur. Art’s lips twitch with a soft smile, his hand gently cupping your arm.

“Just good?” He plies.

“The best. A real pro.”

His smile widens, and the flash of his tongue sweeping across his lower lip makes your face go hot. You know that you’re caught when Art’s touch becomes firmer, pulling your arm toward him just a little.

The sound of approaching footsteps startles you, and you hurriedly tug your arm away. The sight of your husband makes your heart leap into your throat.

“There you are,” He smiles. “Art, how’s she doin’?”

“She’s killing it.”

You don’t dare look at him, but you can feel the weight of his attention lingering on you still. You just give your husband a smile, tipping your cheek up obligingly as he leans down to kiss it.

“Actually, Art,” Your husband straightens up, hands resting on your shoulders. “I’m glad I caught you. There’s a charity event for a local club this month. It’s for uh…What is it?” He squeezes your shoulders for answers, and you have to keep from rolling your eyes.

“It’s a charity tennis match to raise funds to fix up the local courts. They need resurfacing and they’re raising funding to keep the fees down.”

“We could use a sponsorship from the foundation,” Your husband adds.

“Honey,” You glance back, wary of insulting Art. But—

“I’ll do it,” Art agrees. “Send me the details.”

“Excellent,” Your husband grins. “Maybe we could coax you into a match or two.”

You don’t chastise him this time—not when you see something light up in Art.

“Maybe.”

You haven’t seen Art play before. You’ve specifically avoided it. You’ve known that when you saw it, you would be too intimidated to do a damn thing on the court with him. But now, you can’t stop watching him. You don’t even care that you probably look so out of place—where everyone else is watching the ball, you’re just watching him.

His movements are so neat, so precise. It’s like watching a dance. He’s running the poor guy on the other side of the net up and down the court. And the sounds that he’s making—god. Every little grunt and groan is weaving increasingly filthy thoughts in your mind. You already know that you’ll seek out the memory of those sounds, as you reach between your legs later. His shirt clings to his chest, showcasing the muscles that you’ve always suspected he has. Strands of hair plaster to his forehead as sweat drips over his cheekbones, down the bridge of his nose, over his jaw.

When he scores a match point and he looks toward the cheering crowd—when his eyes land on you instantly, without having to search—it’s like you’ve been hit by a bolt of lightning. You can’t think, or move. You barely have the focus to applaud, but you manage to raise your hands and clap.

Every lesson becomes an exercise in self-control. You force yourself to try, really try, and not make silly mistakes for the sake of Art coming closer, grasping your arm or elbow, pressing close and redirecting your swing. You don’t know what you crave more these days: his praise or his touch.

Coffee becomes a post-lesson ritual. He starts to stick closer and closer to you as he follows you into the house until he begins to rest his hand on your lower back, guiding you to your door. He keeps nearby when you’re making it, brushes droplets of sweat off of your forehead or neck. Every touch is electrifying; you have to make a concentrated effort to keep your hands steady, your face neutral as your heart pounds and your stomach floods with butterflies.

He pushes you harder on the court, and you force yourself to meet the level that he sets for you, even when you don’t feel confident in it. But you want to make him proud.

It spurs you to lunge a little too far.

The sharp stabbing pain in your left ankle makes you shriek, and you tumble to the ground, dropping the racket with a clatter. You hear the pounding of his feet, glance up just in time to see him clear the net before he’s on the ground at your side.

“What hurts?”

“My ankle,” You grit out, hissing softly as he helps you straighten your leg out. He smooths his hands over your calf, leaning over you and gently guiding your foot in a few different directions. You whimper as he starts to guide your foot to the left.

“Okay, okay,” He soothes, “Let’s get you inside.”

For as much as you damn the throbbing in your ankle, you thank it a little, too. You lean heavily against Art, making the slow, arduous journey back to the house with his arm wrapped tightly around your middle.

When your husband comes home, he finds you with on the couch with Art coming back in from the kitchen, an ice pack in your hand.

You’d hope for concern, but your husband frowns, glances at the swelling knob of your ankle, and simply asks: “What did you do?”

“She lost her balance.” Art sits down on the other end of the couch, soothing you as the chill of the ice pack makes you shift with discomfort.

“Are you going to be able to walk tomorrow?” Your husband presses. “We have dinner at the Fineman’s.”

“I'm still going, don't worry about that."

“...Tomorrow might be a bit soon,” Art warns.

“I’ll be okay. It’s just a sprain, right?” You tip your brows up, hoping, praying that he’ll agree for your sake. His fingers flex around the ice pack, jaw ticking as he clenches it. He doesn’t say a word as your husband sighs heavily, grumbles, “I hope so. Still, we should put a pause on the lessons until she’s fighting fit again.”

Art finally tears his eyes from yours, a tight smile on his lips.

“Of course.”

“How’s the ankle?”

It takes you a moment to scrounge up an answer. You can’t believe that he called. You knew that Art had gotten your number when you started taking lessons with him, but he’s never used it beyond texting to confirm a lesson time now and again.

You look down at the still-swollen flesh as it strains against the thin strap of your slingbacks.

“Fine,” You lie, “It’s um—” You glance over your shoulder, listening for your husband. “It’s not that bad.”

“Good enough to walk on?”

Hardly.

“Yes.” You think you’ve gotten away with it, but when you hear Art sigh and chastise, “You should rest,” You know that you haven’t.

“I have,” You insist, “All day.”

“Are you sure you’re alright?”

“Yes.”

“You can tell him no, you know.”

Your mouth works wordlessly, body going hot with indignation. You can’t think of a thing to say. You can’t tell him that he’s wrong, that your husband’s connections are the lifeblood of his business. You can’t tell him that if your husband’s business falls apart, you won't be able to afford those tennis lessons, and then how the hell are you supposed to see Art again?

You just yank your phone away from your ear and hang up.

I invited Art.

It shouldn’t be a surprise, but your husband’s statement makes you feel like you’ve swallowed your tongue. You haven’t seen or spoken to Art in nearly two weeks. Your doctor recommended putting off any physical activity, which your husband surely relayed to him. He was the one whose name was on Art’s checks, after all.

Your husband has always thrown a massive party to kick off the summer. Every year, 150 of your husband’s closest family, friends, and business associates flooded into the house. It shouldn’t be such a surprise that your husband invited Art after the performance he had given at the fundraiser—$25,000 from the foundation, and ticket sales went through the roof when it had been announced that the Art Donaldson would be making an appearance. Your husband owed Art a lot, and probably saw this as an opportunity for him to network, to take on more clients. He had been evangelizing Art’s training to any of your friends that would listen—how good you are on the court, how engaged and energetic you seem to be these days.

It’s one thing to know that you’ll have to put on a happy face for the crowd, but to know that Art will be among them makes your insides twist with nerves. You can’t stop thinking about the way that he had spoken to you when you were hurt; his calm, steadying demeanor as he’d gotten you inside; the careful coaxing and gentle touch that he’d used as he’d taken your shoe off and examined your ankle more closely.

You think about it now, as you strap on another pair of heels. Your ankle really is doing well, though you have a little lingering pain in shoes like these. You’ll likely be on your feet for the length of the party; it’s going to be a long night. You look over yourself in the mirror, self consciously tipping your ankle from side to side for anything that he may spot or catch out. But there’s nothing, you reassure yourself. You slide your hands over the skirt, plastering on a smile as your husband pokes his head into your dressing room.

“Almost ready in here?” He asks.

“All set!”

He doesn’t come over to you. On the crowded patio, you can feel him watching you—you’ve gotten so used to seeking out the sensation that you can’t ignore it now. The first true look at him is agony. He watches you from just a few feet away, a glass of champagne in hand as he speaks with your husband and the Finemans. He openly looks you over, eyes drifting over your body to the flash of ankle revealed by the slit in your dress. He tips his head to the side just a little, squinting before his eyes flit back up to your face, lips twitching with a small smile.

You want to hate how good it feels; you want to be angry with him for his smug knowing, his insistence of You can tell him no, you know. But it feels so goddamn good to have his attention again that you can’t bring yourself to be annoyed. You know that you’re staring—that you both are—and you force yourself to turn away and excuse yourself from the conversation you’re in. You go inside, murmuring your thanks for the waitstaff that pass you along the way.

The house isn’t nearly as busy as the patio, and you're able to slip into your darkened study unnoticed. You leave the lights off, certain that if you turn them on, people will be drawn in to bug you, like moths to a flame. The party’s lights and music filter in through the partially-closed blinds.

You lean against the desk, circling your ankle and wincing a little. You’ll hide for a few minutes, let it rest—

Your breath catches in your throat as the door opens. You expect your husband, ready to scold and usher you back to the guests.

You only have a second to get a look at Art before he shuts the door behind himself, plunging the room back into darkness. Your fingers tighten around the edge of the desk as you use it to ground yourself.

“...Do you need something?” You ask, voice wobbling with nerves.

“Wanted to come say hi.”

“Well. Hi.”

You hear him chuckle, his footsteps muted by the carpet.

“Thanks for the invite.”

“It wasn’t my idea.” It’s not polite to admit, but you want it to sting him, just a little. Maybe it does; in the dim of the room, you can’t see Art’s expression as he comes to a stop just a couple of feet from you.

“Do you want me to go?” He asks. You know what you should say, but you can’t bring yourself to say it.

“No,” You whisper. You feel the heat of him as he comes closer, his hands resting on the desk and caging you in. You bite your lip as gently brushes his nose against yours.

“He isn’t taking care of you.”

“My ankle is fine.”

“I’m not talking about your ankle.” He lifts a hand, smoothing it over your hip as your breath mingles. Art’s fingers drift from your hip to stroke over the apex of your dress’s slit. His fingers slip further down, and you nod as he palms your thigh. Before you can say or do a thing, Art sinks to his knees. He curls his hand around your left calf, lifting it. You shiver as his lips press a gentle kiss to your ankle. His hand and lips travel up, easing the fabric of your dress higher with each second. The first brush of his knuckles against your panty-covered clit makes you jolt. Your hands dig into the wood of the desk as his fingers hook between the fabric and your skin. You lift your hips without a word, allowing him to draw them down.

Art presses a kiss to your mound before he lowers his head, giving your lips a sweet, sucking kiss. You gasp softly as his tongue swipes across your clit. You look down despite the fact that you can’t see him well. You can just make out his blissful expression, his eyes closed as his laps broadly across your aching cunt. You lower your hand to his neat hair, winding your fingers through it, unable to help grasping it. His heady moan vibrates against you and you nearly cry out at the sensation. You manage to just catch it, the sound dying in your throat as Art buries his tongue inside you. He sweeps his thumb over your clit in rush, harried circles, panting against your heated flesh. You rock your hips down against his lips, tightening your grip on his hair as you guide him. He lets you do as you please, whining against your skin as your movements become less controlled.

“Art,” You warn, “I—Oh, oh god—”

He hums in encouragement, sucking your clit back between his lips and lashing it with his tongue. Your jaw drops open, your hand shoving Art even more tightly against your skin as you cum suddenly. A stunned, breathy moan slips from your lips as Art leans back, smearing his lips against the inside of your thigh.

You use your grasp on Art’s hair to draw him back up off of his knees, giving him a crushing kiss as he catches his balance. You swipe your tongue across his lips, whining against his lips as you taste yourself on him. He presses close, his hard cock straining against the fabric of his pants. You reach down, palming and squeezing his length as you trade slick, messy kisses. He steers you back onto the desk as you fumble to undo his belt, button, and zip.

“Condom?” He asks.

“Pill,” You reassure, shoving his pants down. You lap broadly across your palm, grasping Art’s length and guiding him closer. He brushes the tip of his cock against your still-throbbing clit, smiling as you whine. You’re going to ache tomorrow, but you’ve never been so happy to be sore.

“Art.”

“Sssh.”

“Please—” It’s hardly out of your mouth before he shoves his hips forward, seating himself fully with a single thrust. You bite down on your lip to quiet your moan, curling your arms around your shoulders. He rocks into you with firm, quick strokes, his mouth covering yours. You can hear things on the desk rattling with each thrust, kisses growing less controlled as he hoists your thigh up around his hip.

“Oh, god,” You breathe, “We have to be quick—He’ll come looking—”

“Not until you cum for me again,” He urges. “I need to feel it, sweetheart.”

“Art—”

“When’s the last time he did this? Hmm?” He presses, “When’s the last time he made you cum? When’s the last time he tasted you?”

“Never,” You admit with a shiver. It seems to renew Art’s passion, his thrusts and hold growing more intense. You squeeze your eyes shut, hands hooking tightly in the fabric of his jacket. He yanks the front of your dress down, bowing over you and drawing one of your nipples between his lips. You whimper as he toys with the bud, tugging it gently with his teeth before swiping across it. You arch into the slick heat, using your leg to tug him even closer as you chased the swelling curl of your orgasm.

“Just like that,” You urge, “Ffffuck—yes, yesyesyesyes—”

Your eyes squeeze shut as your hips buck down against his, pussy pulsing as he spills into you. Your heart pounds in your chest as the two of you slow and still. Art rests his forehead heavily against your neck, peppering gentle kisses across the exposed skin. You have to move—now. You don’t know if anyone heard you, but if someone did, you’re screwed. If no one did, your husband will probably be looking for you anyway, ready with a scold for neglecting your hostess duties.

“...I have to go,” You warn softly. It takes Art a moment to move, but he does, gently drawing himself back from his still-throbbing cunt. You hear the clanking of his belt buckle as he tucks himself away, and you reach down, righting your dress where it’s been pulled away. You take up your panties from where they’d been discarded on the floor, tugging them on before you straighten your skirt and hurry out of the room.

“Can I see you?”

It’s only been an hour since the last guest has left, and you are so, so fucking tired. You glance toward the bathroom door. You know that you locked it, and you’re certain that your husband can’t hear you over the shower running, but you can’t help but be paranoid.

“You just saw me,” You remind him.

“Tomorrow,” Art clarifies.

“Where?”

“I’ll send an address.”

You bite your lip, toying with your earring. Your pussy is still aching from the stretch of him, your ass sore from getting fucked on the desk.

“...You regret it?” He asks.

“No,” You don't give your answer a second thought.

“I’ll send an address. Whether or not you see me is up to you. Just…think about it. Okay?”

“Okay.”

You lower your phone, hanging it up and watching his contact information blink away. It’s only a moment before a text with an address lights up your phone. You don’t have to think about it. You already know what you’re going to do.

You know that you’re staring, but you can’t bring yourself to stop. Art has spent so much time in your home, so you feel entitled to look around a little bit. You eye the row of trophies on his mantle, photos of him playing when he was young. You come to a stop at a picture of him with a young girl, a racket in her hand and a medal around her neck.

“Is this Lily?” You ask.

“Yeah,” He nods. “First competition.”

“Already getting gold,” You smile. “The Mark Rebellato Academy isn’t ready for her.”

Art chuckles, nodding as he steps around you.

“You, uh…You want something to eat, or drink, or…?” He trails off, tucking his hands into his pockets as he takes a couple of steps back toward his kitchen. You turn to face him, taking him in more fully.

“Art?”

“Yeah?”

“Why am I here?”

He doesn’t answer for a few moments. You can see him weighing his options before he comes closer.

“I…I’ve been thinking about last night.”

Fear shoots through you, but you force yourself to stand tall. “Okay.”

“I could lie and tell you that it should be a one-time thing, but I can’t remember the last time I got through a day without thinking about you. And I think you’ve been thinking about me, too.” Art stops as the tip of his shoes brush against yours, and you let your eyes slip closed as he rests his forehead against yours.

“Tell me I’m wrong,” He pleads. “Tell me to fuck off right now and I will never say another non-tennis related thing to you again.”

When he fucks you, he curls close, chest pressing against yours as he catches your lips in a kiss. You sink back against his pillows, your head cradled by his broad palm as he rolls his hips achingly slowly. You don’t bother to hide your whines and moans, and you revel in his. Every grunt and whimper and groan that Art lets out lights you up.

And when you cum, you don't have to quiet yourself. His name tumbles out of your mouth, cushioned between expletives as your nails dig into his shoulders.

"What time is he home tonight?"

You don't want to think about it. You want to stay in this cozy little bubble, trailing your fingers over his muscled chest as he massages your nape and kisses your forehead.

But you know that you'll have to let the world back in sometime.

"I don't know," You admit. "Late."

"...Could stay."

"He'll be suspicious if I'm not home when he gets there."

Art sighs softly, running his hand down to rub between your shoulder blades.

"This isn't going to be easy, is it."

"What?"

"Letting you go every day."

"Every day?" You tease, pushing yourself up to get a better look at him. "Don't get greedy, Mr. Donaldson."

He smiles, raising his hand and cupping your cheek. "Is it greedy to know what I want?"

You shake your head a little, lowering your lips to brush against his.

"Not when I want it, too."

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@millllenniawrites ; @chattychell ; @thembosapphicclown ; @brandyllyn ; @wildmoonflower ;

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#Art Donaldson x Reader #Art Donaldson x You #Art Donaldson/Reader #Art Donaldson/You #Art Donaldson fic #Art Donaldson imagine #the pro

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dante-mightdie · 3 days

Note

MORE ANGST.

Like, okay, more angst for reader, but I need some angst for 141. Like PLEASE.

So, the reader, frustrated (mentally and physically), decides to take things onto their own hands. If they treat them as if they don't exist, so will they. It starts simple. They don't greet them good morning and goodbye anymore, when the team would only offer a grunt or nod of acknowledgment. Reader doesn't ask them to hang out, or to join into their plans. They start living for themselves, not quite leaving them, more like treating the four men like roommates. Whenever one would initiate intimacy, reader would slip away, offering some lame excuse. At the same time, just an hour later, they'd see a glimpse of reader, all dressed up and pretty, not bothering to let them know where they'd be going as they run out the front door, only to be heared from a couple of hours later. Stumbling through the front door with a second pair of footsteps following suit, and a hearty male laugh. The apartment was as much reader's as it was the boys' so it should be normal they brought someone home ... but was this what the task force 141 though?

changed it ever so slightly but I love this yes

c/w: poly!141, mentions of emotional neglect, alcohol, intoxication

you got the idea after scrolling through social media, rotting away in bed had become a common routine for you. an advertisement had popped up for a bar that opened up a few months ago, you remember asking johnny and kyle to go with you but they were too busy at the time

it looked like a nice enough place. not like the dive bars in camden that simon takes you to, or those annoying ass scotch bars in canary wharf that john insists on ‘introducing’ you to. as if you’ve never had a glass of scotch before. the memory makes you scoff to yourself

surprisingly, it doesn’t take much to convince yourself to just… go. if they won’t go with you, there’s no reason why you can’t convince yourself. they were too busy ignoring you to notice you’d be gone anyway. so, you drag yourself out of bed and rifle through the wardrobe for something to wear

looking good really does make you feel good, you say to yourself when you catch a glimpse of yourself in the mirror once you were ready. you’d decided on a fitted black dress with a pair of black strapped heels. they wouldn’t notice but you added a bit of detail to the outfit

if they did notice that every piece of jewellery was a piece they had bought for you, it would fucking burn. the diamond skull-shaped studs that simon got you, the vintage locket that john had found for you when he was deployed, and the anklet that kyle had grabbed from some fancy jewellery store on oxford street paired with the stunning ring that johnny found at a local market in scotland

you took a deep breath and held your head high before grabbing your purse. when you entered the front room, all conversation stopped as usual. but only because they were too busy eyeing you up and down, “where’re you goin’ dressed like that?”

you roll your eyes when john speaks up, not even stopping to respond. a curt ‘out’ leaving your lips as you walk out the front door and slam it loudly. the boys all looked at each other, shifting in their seats uncomfortably at the interaction

john narrowed his eyes as he glared at the front door. he didn’t like not knowing where you were. even if you didn’t know it, john always knew about your whereabouts

the bar was nice, nice enough for you to drink your feelings away in. in your head, you imagined flirting with anyone just to make the boys jealous. but every time someone approached you, it just filled you with more sadness. perhaps a part of you just wanted the boys to grab you, persuade you to stay with sweet words and gentle kisses like they used to do when you looked this good

it was a few hours past midnight when you finally returned, simon awakened by the sounds of giggling outside and your keys jangling in the door. he didn’t plan on getting out of bed until he heard a male voice speaking along side yours

he stalked down the stairs, following the sounds of your heels stumbling until he found you in the front room. you were drunk out of your fucking mind with some random bloke holding you up. simon’s fists clenched at his side and he decided to make his presence known

“better take your hand off her before you fuckin’ lose it, mate.” he spits, taking a step closer to yank you from the man’s grip. you squeak and stumble from the harsh tug, landing right against simon’s bulky frame as he holds on to your arm to keep you steady

the man takes a step back, holding his hands up in surrender. “woah, i’m not here to cause any trouble. was just making sure she got home safe. my colleague over served her and she said her roommates were too busy to pick her up.”

simon clenches his jaw, keeping his gaze on the man and just waiting for him to step out of line. he doesn’t even notice that the others have climbed out of bed too, coming downstairs to hear what the commotion is about

he turns his head only to shove you into price’s arms, squaring his shoulders as he stares the bartender down. “well, our girl is home and safe now so you best be on your way.”

“relax, mate. she’s really not my type. that one there is more my type.” the bartender chuckles, nodding his head towards soap before turning around and walking out the door but not before giving you a goodbye

price steadies your body against him, already getting an idea of the kind of drunken state that you’re in. he lifts your basically limp body into his arms before carrying you up to bed but he doesn’t take you to the spare room. he takes you to what you have recently come to know as their room

“had a bit too much, princess?” he chuckles, placing you down on the bed. you look at him confused before letting your head fall to the pillow

“‘m still your princess?” you mumble into the fabric. price frowns slightly, turning his head to look at the boys before making work on taking your heels off

“course. you always have been.” he mumbles. you respond with a small hum before completely passing out against the sheets…

#mw2 #cod mw2 #simon ghost riley #simon riley #simon riley x reader #captain john price #john price #john price x reader #ghost x reader #kyle gaz garrick x reader #kyle garrick x reader #kyle gaz garrick #kyle garrick #john soap mctavish x reader #soap mactavish #soap mactavish x reader #soap x reader

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smutoperator · 2 days

Note

can you write ex gf minju? minju and you broke up cuz of college and you meet again years later but she has a family now but she cheats on her new husband with you.

Blast From The Past

Kim Minju x Male Reader

Tags: big dick worship, boss chair blowjob, cheating, college sweetheart, creampie, cum licking, (lots of) facefucking, future, home office, housewife, long time no see, mating press, milfju, multiple orgasms, passionate sex, pregnancy

Word count: 3918

April 29th, 2041

Twenty years ago, Minju endured her most heartbroken day of her life. Her group had just disbanded, and you decided to break up with her to focus on your college graduation. As the years passed, Minju transitioned from her days as an idol and actress and is now a 40-year-old housewife working from home in the real estate market.

Minju has got into a business marriage. Her husband is sterile but wanted kids, so she found other guys to inseminate her twice. At this point, this is basically ten times Korea's fertility rate, so her 4-member family really stands out from her co-workers, who are all single.

Today, Minju was lonely. Her husband was on a work trip abroad. She then suddenly remembered her former college sweetheart.

"Could you come to my house?" Minju texted you. You two had met a few times since breaking up, but she never allowed such intimacy, especially as a married woman. Something must have changed then, but you accepted her invitation anyway.

You arrived at Minju's house just as she was starting to work. Minju welcomed you with open arms, feeling even lonelier as she had just dropped her kids off at school. "Sit here; I'm not feeling that well today," she said, pointing to her work desk. "What happened?" you asked. "My husband is away, and I feel so done with my marriage that I think I need a divorce," she continued. "And do you want to talk about this with me?" you asked. "Maybe," she replied.

Minju turned off the computer and went to the kitchen to pick up something to eat. But she couldn't help but look at you sitting at her workplace. Some burning feelings from the past were starting to creep back into her mind. You looked so handsome to her. So much so that she made an impulsive move.

"I need a break," Minju knelt under her desk and started carressing the area around your pants. You thought this was a little weird, but flashes of your college days came up immediately. You didn't say anything. It's her house; she can do what she wants. You'll just follow this beautiful noona, just like you did when she was just turning 20.

Minju knew you always had some love left for her. She could notice your erection bulging and wanted to see it after so many years, licking it while still clothed and then unveiling it. She was amazed; you truly hadn't changed down there in 20 years. That cock was throbbing and was bigger than the whole radius of her face. Still with her workplace outfit on, Minju dove onto your tip, licking it like a baby who discovers a long-missing toy. She really wanted to make up for the lost time, admiring that length and enjoying every second of it. It was so beautiful. Better, it was so big.

Minju licked your shaft from top to bottom and put it in her mouth, hitting her tongue with your tip. You really liked how submissive she was to your cock. Her angelic face always hides the fact that she can get slutty in a snap, and the way she worshipped your member was incredible. You tuck her hair out to get a better view of her beautiful face as she sloppily works on that shaft, twisting and sucking it full of lust and spitting on it like she's sucking a lollipop. She keeps going for five straight minutes. No noises except her naughty tongue, giving that cock the work it deserves.

"Come here after lunch, but instead of my mouth, you'll be inside my pussy," Minju says. "Ok, but why after lunch and not now?" you ask. "I need to solve some problems first." Before she moves further, she needs to free herself from this boring housewife life. "I'm calling it quits," she tells her coworkers at their online meeting. Her divorce papers will be ready for her husband when he arrives. A new Minju is about to be unleashed. Well, an old Minju.

A few hours later, you return to Minju's house. This time, she greets you wearing the lingerie she had under her office attire in the morning. "Take your clothes off, and let's go straight to bed," she says. Passionate kisses follow; this is already much better than the boring sex her husband has been giving her for over a decade. Minju pushes you into her bed and resumes the blowjob she had started that morning.

"You're still so big after all these years," Minju praises your length and makes sure to work the whole extension of it, even pouring lube for an easier slide into her soft little hands. "I fucking love this huge cock," she tells you.

"What made you decide to get back in touch with me?" you ask just as she takes a little break from filling her mouth full of cock. "Eunbi and Yeji were really noticing how unhappy I was, but it's all gone with you back in my life," she says, moving towards swallowing your balls, and you let out a groan.

Minju was really happy that she listened to her friends counseling. Your cock was double the size of her husband and very responsive to her stimulation, growing bigger as she kept working her magic on it. "I don't know how it's even going to fit inside me; my pussy hasn't taken a cock this big in, I guess, 20 years," she says. She might be concerned about showing her age, but to you, she is just as beautiful as she was two decades ago.

"I want you to fuck my face; I gotta test if I can take it," Minju tells you with a smile. You are over the moon, seizing the opportunity to use her beautiful, sexy, and warm mouth as a training ground before you get in her pussy. You give her no relief whatsoever, treating Minju like the slut she is and plowing her mouth upwards as you love to see her beautiful face full of cock.

Minju coughs and gags all over your cock. The truth is, all those years made her lose some of her deepthroating skills. Despite trying the hardest to engulf your hard boner, she can only take it halfway in. But she keeps trying, letting you push her head further down it. Your enormous girth barely fits in her mouth, turning her face into a mess as you make it red.

Your cock is full of Minju's saliva. Doubts arise in her mind about whether she can still take it. All those years with a vanilla husband might never bring back the young foxy queen Minju of the past. She can barely take half of it without gagging.

"That's so fucking hot," she says. "Do it again," Minju says, showing she won't give up and that a little extra training can bring her old self back. She closes her eyes and loosens herself up as more and more of your length goes down her throat, until she finally manages to deepthroat that anaconda for the first time in a long while.

"You still got it," you say, praising her. In the end, Minju is still the most beautiful woman on the planet to you, and she's even prettier when she's getting her face filled with your cock. You caress her pretty face as she sticks her tongue out to lick your cock. Slutty Minju has always been the best Minju, and you love how she slowly unleashes it and brings back memories of better days.

Minju throats your sword two-thirds of the way in now; get more accustomed to it. You know there is nothing this beautiful girl can't do and that she'll be taking it to the fullest soon. "Perfect, you're taking it so well," you tell her, diving your cock deeper into her throat, which makes her gag.

"Maybe I'm ready to have it in my pussy," Minju says. "I want it so bad inside me; feel every inch stretching out my little pussy," she continues. You want it too; you love when she talks in a slutty way like this.

Minju takes off the top of her lingerie, showing off her perky tits. She lies on her bed and spreads her legs as you kiss her little pink pussy that you haven't worshipped in a long time, before slowly eating her folds as she releases some cute moans. "You like licking that fucking pussy, baby?" she asks as she spreads her entrance for you to hit it deeper with your tongue.

"Keep going, baby; oh my god, lick my clit, I love it," Minju says as you take it in your mouth. "That tongue feels so good," she continues as you spit inside her and dive your head fully into her pussy. "Keep it there," she demands, getting her right leg up in the air. "You really like to worship my pussy, don't you?" she says.

Minju grinds her breedable hips into your face as she enjoys your tongue; you get her really warm. "I want you to fuck me so bad; I want that big dick right inside my pussy," she begs with her beautiful smile. Soon, your face gets replaced by a long pole teasing her entrace.

You can feel that after all those years, Minju is still tight. "Nice and slow," she says as you rub your shaft into her entrance before teasing her into inserting just the tip. "Oh, Fuck, I love how you tease me," she says, as you shortly move straight into action and fuck her passionately in missionary.

Minju enjoys how your long length stretches her pussy. "Stretch it good," she says as you get deeper. Your cock slides with ease as you kiss her; her needy hole truly needed it. You go faster. "Don't stop," Minju says, "You're gonna make me cum already," she says, making you pick up the pace and choke her as she closes her eyes and you groan loudly.

"Fuck, I'm cumming, ah, shit." Minju has a fairly easy orgasm after a short few minutes. She really missed a long cock stretching her out; her pussy gets tighter and pinches your cock, but you remain strong, committed to stretching her cunt at all costs, as she softly curses and moans while kissing you in between.

You lick Minju's neck as you give her a hard missionary pounding that sends her to the heavens. The way you wrap your body around hers makes her feel so loved, and the way your cock works hard in her pussy is so enjoyable to her.

Your balls slap into Minju's clit as her right leg gets fully lifted and you press her back against the bed. Her orgasms continue as your cock gives her what she's been missing for nearly two decades. Minju just lets you dominate her and work as you please with her little breedable body.

"You're so fucking deep in me," Minju moans and laughs as you move to a mating press, her legs now all up in the air. Her pussy feels so good and warm the more you plow her. She's never felt that much pleasure since you left her. Minju starts regretting all those years you two were far apart, as your passionate pounding keeps giving her orgasm after orgasm.

Minju kisses you, thanking you for all the pleasure you are giving her as she goes back to worshipping your huge cock and tasting all her juices from it. She then rewards you with her wet pussy right in your face as she gets on top of you for a 69. You wrap your hands around her little waist, and you two compete to see who pleases the other the most. But Minju clearly has the edge. You can't match the way she massages your balls and gets you on the edge of unloading in her warm, cock-filled throat.

Truth be told, all Minju wants now is to be a sleeve for your massive cock. She gets on all fours as you spank her pale cheeks, her enticing pussy ready for more. "Ohhh shit," she moans as you insert just the tip, feeling very needy for that long dick. You grab the garters on her waist that are tied to her sexy black stockings as she swings her breedable hips to take more of that shaft inside her. Minju bounces on all fours as you spank her cute butt, tease her with slow pumps inside, and rub your tip on her beautiful wet entrance.

Slowly, you get your cock deep inside Minju; her pussy is wet but tightens fairly easily, giving you a huge challenge to stretch it out. "I love that cock stretching my tiny little pussy," she says. "Shit, you're so fucking tight after all those years," you tell her, barely able to get halfway inside as her pink hole clenches hard on every inch of that cock.

You have to take your cock out multiple times not to cum, her pussy gaping at each time. You then pump Minju faster, making her asshole wink at each thurst. "Fuck spank me like a slut," she begs as you increase the pace. Minju starts to regret not staying with you; she could have done that for years already, being the perfect toy for a massive cock that would stretch her out every single day.

Minju's little tits jiggle as she closes her eyes and explodes in louder and louder moans. "Don't stop," she demands, grabbing your hand as you wrap it around her waist. She's so slim and pretty—the perfect princess turned into the ultimate slutty fuck toy. "Take that cock," you tell her as you spank her further. "GOD, FUCK!" she yells. The line that introduced her to the world was about making it red, but now she's the one for whom you're turning the body red.

More spanks succeed in Minju's pale booty. And the more she takes them, the more she enjoys them. She's so overwhelmed she can't even stay on her knees anymore, cumming again as she gets pinned to the bed and turns your submissive doggy fuck into an even more submissive prone-boning of her pussy. You're now just her big bull manhandling her pink fleshlight, her torso and tummy hitting the bedsheets harder at each thrust you give her, her cheeks clapping as you put all your weight pressured against her hot body. 20 or 40 years old, Minju is still the same, perfect from head to toe.

"OH MY GOD, YOU'RE SO FUCKING DEEP." Minju screams as your cock fulyl bulges under her belly and shapes her pussy from her entrance to her cervix, molding it like it's your own work of art. You could cum right now, and that would be enough on its own. But you want more; you want Minju to feel every inch of your cock every day for the rest of her life. She'll be yours, one inch at a time.

"AHHHHHHHHH!" Minju turns into a screaming mess as you pound her harder and harder. Her ass is fully up against your hips as you destroy Minju like a fuckdoll. She may have had doubts at first, but even at this age, she can still take it. "Oh my god, I'm cumming again." These words make you craze as you pin her even harder against the bedsheets and choke her, making her pussy clench and unleashing a powerful orgasm that almost makes you finish right after.

You slow down and kiss Minju, getting completely on top of her, making her hot body into your property. Slow and deep, all the way in, you make Minju moan softly while stimulating her neck with kisses, her face now redder than a tomato. She could die right there, drowned by pleasure, and it would be a happy ending for her.

You set Minju free, and she immediately bends over to crown your cock, taking it deep in her mouth as she enjoys tasting herself, smiling and moaning. She then lays down, giving you a perfect view of her red cheeks as your member slides up and down her mouth. You caress her soft cheeks as her blowjob drives you to the edge—two lovebirds who feel like they couldn't have got a better comeback than this.

Minju keeps kissing your dick. "Fuck, I can't believe this thing fits all inside of me," she says. "It felt so good inside of my pussy," she continues, with more kisses. You can't resist her warm mouth wrapped all over your massive monster, pushing up as you go back to fuck her face nonstop, treating her mouth the same way you just did to her pussy. "Fuck my face and bulge under my tiny little throat," Minju demands as soon as she gags, and you do it just as she asks.

After some rough throat pounding, you go back to your romantic ways, sliding back inside Minju in a passionate spooning position and kissing her as your cock hotly slides slowly in and out of her pussy. You caress her nipples as she demands that you go deeper. "Stretch my pussy all the way in," she says, fingering her clit to the pace of your thrusts while you hold the little string around her waist.

"Fuck, you're stretching me out so good," she says. "You're getting so fucking deep AHHHHH," she continues as your balls start smashing against her entrance. 10 throbbing inches, and Minju is taking all of them, just like at your college dorms when your friends went out. The more things change, the more they stay the same.

"God, it's gonna make me cum again, yessss," Minju moans as she closes her eyes and releases yet another flow of juices into your massive monster, the orgasms her sterile husband could never give to her. Meanwhile, today she's basically lost count of how many times she creamed herself on that cock. "I'm gonna cum all over that fucking cock, AHHHHH," Minju screams as you choke her, making her unleash it even quicker as you push your cock deep inside her with all your might.

Minju is still out of breath as you move slower to allow her to enjoy her orgams. "Keep stretching that pussy up," she says as she grabs her little tits. "I love feeling every single inch of you," she continues. "Make me your little fucking bitch; make me submit to all your desires," Minju keeps going, more satisfied than ever at each time you penetrate deep inside her pussy. "Harder, harder," she says as you clap your balls on her clit nonstop and make her scream even further as you groan and have yet another close call.

"Keep fucking me until I die, or until you cum," Minju says shortly after she gives you the most torrid round of kisses. "Let me sit on that fucking cock," she says, starting her ride slowly to adjust to that massive length impaling her. You wrap your hands around her waist and push her body down with your massive prick. Minju starts to move faster, getting better acclimated to that huge cock. "Stretch me out," she says as you push up her pussy and take control before resuming the ride.

"Spank my ass like a slut," she says as her bounces get harder to resist; each spanking makes her ultra-tight pussy clench. You can't resist and start manhandling her once again while slapping her hard, loving the way she moans.

Minju pulls out for a bit and gets on her feet on the side of the bed. You follow as you two kiss each other, feeling like this could be your last time together. She massages your cock, and you kiss her neck. "I missed you so much, my lover, especially your big cock stretching me out so well," she tells you. "But I'm still missing one last thing," she says. "Nobody has ever fucked me like you," she continues.

Minju then jumps on your cock, committing to make you drain her balls inside her. She's not going to stop until you do. Her ride gets crazier. You have flashbacks of her 20-year-old energetic self, which she brings back just for this moment. "Wanna cum inside me so fucking bad?" she asks. "I want you to fucking fill me up," she continues. "I'm ready to feel every fucking drop inside of my pussy; please shoot your load inside me," she keeps begging.

Not only did you shoot it, but the load that you had been saving for 20 years spurted out of your cock like a geyser, filling Minju's tight pussy to the brim, so much so that lots of it spilled into your navel. Your cock was throbbing so hard for her that it kept pulsating for 10 long seconds after you shot your cum inside her. Minju, not wanting to miss any drops, licks your cum-covered tummy with her mouth, swallowing what leaked out of her cunt. If this was your last time together, it was surely worth it.

"My God, you fuck me so good; you're incredible." Minju praised you and gave you more kisses, feeling loved in a way she hadn't felt for a long time. "Marry me, let's do this for the rest of our lives," she said, giving a final kiss on your cock.

But you two couldn't even enjoy it for much, as Minju's husband, arriving earlier, announced himself in the house. You, still naked, had to hide yourself in Minju's closet as you listened to both of them talking.

"Why are you almost naked in lingerie, Minju?" Her husband asked. "Nothing," she said, "just wanted to try some things I haven't done in a while.". "I saw you want to file for divorce; what are you hiding from me, Minju?" he continues. "Well, our marriage stalled out; honestly, keep the kids to yourself. You wanted them so much, but I had to find other guys because you're sterile," Minju continues, increasing her tone.

The arguing continues as you remain trapped in the closet. Her husband leaves and goes, taking "his" kids back from school. Minju cries as you try to consolate her and keep her calm. You had made her feel loved for the first time in years. "I hope this isn't the last time we see each other," she says, carrying you out of her house before her husband returns.

A few months passed by. Minju and her husband get into a divorce settlement. But she never called you after that night. You wondered if she had gotten back to her risk-averse ways and just wanted to play it safe. Until you receive a call.

"Hello," Minju says. Your eyes get bright instantly upon hearing her voice. "I have some news," she continued. "I'm pregnant," she tells you. "I want to move away from my home; would you follow me?" she asks. "Sure, anywhere you go, I'll follow you down," you tell her.

Last call: flight from Seoul to Prague. The aiport sound system announces. Minju gives one last hug to her longtime best friends, Eunbi and Yeji. "I'll stay in touch," she tells them. You two are ready to depart and start a new life. Meanwhile, the baby bump on Minju's belly is more noticeable than ever.

What was supposed to be the end was just a new start.

---------------------------------------------------------------

Shorter fic this time, busier week here. But on the 3rd year of my ult group's disbandment anniversary, I decided to drop this fic, which ends in the same way I feel about them today: Iz*one's end was just a new start, and its legacy has been enhanced by what happened after, as many of the most successful groups of the generation came from them.

PS: hopefully we see more of Minju this year. 🦊

#minju smut #izone smut #female idol smut #girl group smut #kpop smut #male reader smut

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neil-gaiman · 3 days

Note

hey mr gaiman do you think my catholic parents would let me watch Good Omens?

I expect so. Show them reviews like this one if they balk:

Or this one:

https://www.catholicworldreport.com/2019/07/01/good-omens-and-divine-absence/

(As I remember, most of the Catholic reviews were fairly enthusiastic.)

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lecl3rcw · 2 days

Text

KEEPING UP WITH THE LECLERCS | leclerc brothers x reader

_______________________

part 1

“Y/N, it’s the middle of the fucking night in Monaco? You better have a good ass reason too wake me up” Arthur groaned at his twin as he groggily.

“You won’t believe it.” She says

“What?”

“THE BENGALS INVITED ME TO THEIR GAME” she says, a sudden burst of excitement ran through her

“Who are the bengals again?” He sighs

“….”

“Oh wait, it’s that one dude you like, what was his name again Joe Burrow?”

“YEAH AND GET THIS, I can bring up to 5 people, so you’re coming and so are Charles, Alex, Lorenzo and Maman” she says excitedly.

“Who says I’m going?” He says, earning himself a scowl.

“You don’t want to come?” She says, “well I mean not really”

“Ofcourse you don’t! I always show up for your events and you never show up for mine” she says, maliciousness lacing her tone.

“Y/N please, this isn’t your event, you’re not walking the runway or attending a premiere” he says, his tone now matching hers.

“Well even if I was, not like you’d show up anyways” she mutters.

“What are you yapping about? You’re being so dramatic, I mean not everything revolves around you okay? Some of us have actual problems” he says giving the final blow.

The girl takes a deep breath to collect her self. All her life she had spent living in the shadows of her siblings. She just wanted someone to show up for her, she remembers her first runway show, she had 4 seats reserved for her family yet when she walked out, all 4 of those chairs were empty, why? Because Charles had a last minute deals with a brand. They called and apologized and Ofcourse she put a brave face on, but only the walls of her room heard the way she cried herself to sleep that night.

“You know what? I’m going to let that slide, I don’t know what’s going on with you but I hope you make peace with yourself, and you don’t have to come, I’ll just ask Charles and Enzo. But anyways goodnight” she says

“Y/N-” Arthur tries to interrupt but she hangs up before he can say anything.

Had she overreacted? She felt a sudden rush of guilt overcome her. She couldn’t help but overthink. Her train of thoughts were interrupted by a FaceTime call from her brother's girlfriend.

"Hey babygirl" Alexandra says, "Hey bae, what's up?" she says propping her phone up on the table.

“Just checking in with you and your man situation” Alex says, her and Charles were in the Maldives, “oh it’s good, I got invited to the bengals game so” she replies, “WAIT THATS SO GOOD” Alex says excitedly, Y/N smiles.

“Do you and Charles want to come with me?” She asks hopeful, “well Charles will be preparing for his race but I can definitely come!! When is it?” She asks, “next week!”

“Oh yeah I can definitely make it!” She says,

“Ok we can fly together!! But I I’ll see you next week love ya!” She says hanging up.

The week came even before she could blink.

“So Y/N you excited?” Alexandra says, and Y/N nods.

When they arrive at the stadium, Y/N is immediately greeted by the bengals team.

“Thankyou so much for being our guest, I’m the head coach Zac Taylor” a man says reaching his hand to which she smiles and accepts.

“This is my friend Alexandra!” She says as Alex also shakes his hand, from the corner of her eye, Y/N could feel a certain pair of blue eyes stare at her, and her cheek flushed more.

She waves to the rest of the team, however the man with blue eyes seems to approach her first. “Hey, my name is Joe, I’m the quarterback” he says extending his hand, “I’m going to be honest, I have no idea what that it” Y/N chuckles shaking his hand which caused him to smile.

“Well if you umm give me your number maybe some time could teach you about football” he says very smoothly, which causes her to get flustered.

“Oh yeah, d-definitely! Here” she says giving him her number as he smiles, “you have such a beautiful smile” Joe says bringing up her hand to his lips before letting it go, “I’ll talk to you later” he says waving before going to get ready for his game. She just stands there in shock wondering what happened.

Alexandra squeals, “I saw that!! Y/N he so likes you” she says hugging the girl.

Y/N laughs and shakes her head, but the whole time she couldn’t take her eyes of him.

joeyb_9 started following you

y/n.leclerc

y/n.leclerc modeling for Dior has always been a dream of mine, so thankful to take this huge step into my career with the most amazing photographers, stylists, and makeup artists🫶🏻

liked by alexandrasaintmleux, joeyb_9, charles_leclerc, and 13,000,000 others

alexandrasaintmleux mami😍

^ y/n.leclerc kiss me rn😍

charles_leclerc alex has been staring at the phone for the past 15 minutes….

^ y/n.leclerc sounds like a you problem bud😪

fan1 NOT JOE BURROW LIKING?!!?!

^ fan2 IK HE NEVER LIKES

joeburrowswife idk I don’t see the hype

^ y/n2fine yet she’s pulling your “man”

rachelzegler welcome to the squad Y/N❤️

^ y/n.leclerc Thankyou rach💕🥹

bellahadid weird way to propose but yes😍

^ y/n.leclerc SHE SAID YES YALL💍👩🏻‍❤️‍💋‍👩🏻

#f1 fanfic #f1 x reader #f1 imagine #charles leclerc x reader #charles leclerc x sister!reader #arthur leclerc #joe burrow x reader #nfl imagine #arthur leclerc x reader

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nereidprinc3ss · 2 days

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do you believe me now? | 4

in which spencer reid and inexperienced fem!reader are interrupted at the most inopportune of times. he calls you on the first night of his case. dirty talk turns into a hard conversation. we get a glimpse into spencer's past, and we finally learn why he's so hesitant to sleep with you.

part one | part two | bonus chapter | part three

18+ (smut) warnings/tags: dirty talk, phone sex/mutual masturbation, softdom!spence, obligatory he talks u through it, lots of graphic discussions of sex, established relationship, angst (sorrryyy!) a/n: so remember how i said you'd need the bonus chapter to fully appreciate/understand this part? i was wrong!! it will come in handy probably in the next part tho:) also idk how these parts keep getting so long im sorry! anyway, i love you all so bad. thank you for bearing w/ my craziness. PLEASE let me know your thoughts on this part!! i adore hearing from you!! kisses

(also special thank you to @fliesforeyes who convinced me phone sex w/ spence could be done!! i will link his phone sex blurb here :)) thank u binx!!

“Three million six hundred eighty four thousand three hundred thirty two times fourteen million seven hundred sixty one thousand nine hundred seventy one.”

You’ve lost count of how many stupid math questions you’ve asked your human calculator boyfriend, just to see if he can actually do them. Spencer is silent for a second, and you think you’ve finally stumped him.

“That one is complicated.”

You sit bolt upright in his bed, looking down at him and pointing an accusatory finger. His brows raise at the manic look in your eye.

“You don’t know.”

“I do know. I meant it would be hard to explain if you aren’t a math person.”

“Bullshit!” You scoff, “you don’t know!”

“It would display on a calculator as five-point-three-eight-eight-E-thirteen. It’s a really big number.”

“Oh, really big, huh?” you mumble, searching for your phone blindly in the sheets and scrambling to open the calculator app. “Um… what numbers did I say?”

Spencer repeats them back to you and you press the equals sign.

You look at it.

And then you set your phone down.

“I was right, huh?” he smiles up at you, probably reveling in your pouty wrongness.

Too proud to admit it, you collapse on top of him, burying your face in his shoulder.

“I don’t like this game anymore. What the fuck even is an e? Why are we doing algebra?”

Spencer laughs, brushing your hair aside.

“The e stands for exponent. It’s to the power of ten.”

“Ever heard of a rhetorical question?”

“Yes, I have.”

It’s hard not to snort even at his dumbest jokes.

“You’re annoying. Let’s do something else.”

You roll over onto your back again, letting your head flop over to look at Spencer, whose hair is exactly the right amount of messy after a long day, falling in impossibly soft waves over the perfect lines and contours of his face. Despite lounging, he’s still in his suit from work—he’d left Quantico and immediately picked you up. There were no solid plans for the evening, so after both of you pretended that you wanted to go out for a while, you ended up back at his apartment.

He looks good. Almost too good.

“Something like what?” he smiles lazily, reaching over and tracing his fingers over your cheek.

“Something… naked?”

His grin widens and he shakes his head.

“Me naked or you naked?”

Pretending to think about it, you roll your bottom lip between your teeth.

“Mm… why not both?”

“Hm. Why do I feel like I know where this is going?”

The mattress sinks underneath your elbow as you prop yourself up, dropping your head over Spencer’s to kiss him.

“Because you’re so smart, and you think it’s a great idea.”

He entertains your kiss for a moment. Just a moment.

“You sound sure of yourself.”

“Because I am!” You finally give in to your impulses, tangling your fingers in his hair and looking at him meaningfully. “It doesn’t make any sense for us to have not had sex. I don’t care about any of your weird, cryptic moral reasoning.”

He grabs your wrist carefully.

“It is not moral,” he scoffs. “We haven’t even talked about it yet.”

“Really? Because I feel like we’ve talked about it a lot.”

He begins to reply, but you realize you don’t want to get into a debate over whether you’ve technically talked about it yet. “I don’t even care! If that’s all that’s standing in your way, then let’s talk about it. Right now.”

Spencer sighs, his eyes darting between yours as he reaches up to cradle your cheek.

“Fine. But I have things to say you’re not going to like.”

“So business as usual?”

He rolls his eyes. You allow yourself a tiny self-satisfied smirk, forever relishing in his poorly-hidden soft spot for your constant teasing. Spencer ignores this. Which is probably for the best.

“I know you probably won’t see it this way, but—sex is different than everything else we’ve done so far. It can be really fun, obviously it feels good, it facilitates deeper feelings of connection—that’s all true. Which is why, in my opinion, it’s incredibly important that you be selective with who you sleep with. Because it’s so easy to do something you regret, and sex is vulnerable. It should always be with someone you trust and—and… care about.”

A pink flush stains his cheeks like watercolor as he stumbles over the last few words. It makes your heart flutter against the confines of your chest.

Maybe best not to think about the absence versus presence of certain four-letter words and what they may or may not mean. You’ll move on to more pressing matters and pretend like it doesn’t ache just a little in your whole body.

You cover his hand with your own.

“Are you going to break up with me anytime soon?”

Spencer’s eyes widen, filling with genuine horror and confusion.

“What? No!”

“Are you going to cheat on me?”

“Absolutely not, I—”

“Then I’m not going to regret it. Issue resolved. Moving on.”

“Honey, I just want you to be 100% sure that I’m what you want.”

“Oh my god,” you groan, flopping onto your back once more. “I have begged you to sleep with me on multiple occasions. We have been dating for months and I liked you even longer before that. I think about it literally every time I see you. I don’t know how to be any surer.”

It’s quiet for a moment as you study the imaginary pattern on the ceiling. The rebuttal you’d been anticipating doesn’t come—instead, the mattress shifts next to you. Spencer enters your field of vision, now leaning over you with a little smile on his face that gives you butterflies.

“Every time?”

“…yes, every time,” you agree, voice considerably thinner than it had been a moment ago. Spencer glances at your lips as he speaks.

“Interesting. And what is it that you think about exactly?”

You groan again, attempting to roll facedown, but he pins your shoulder to the bed. The way he’s sweetly kissing down your cheek and jaw is infuriating because you know it’s a false pretense.

“Ugh, I don’t know! Don’t make me answer that!”

“You said if talking about it was all that was standing in my way, we would talk about it. Now I want to talk about it. Come on,” he says, voice low and cloying against your throat as he attempts to tease the answer out of you. “Tell me what you think about when you think about us having sex.”

You let out a shaky breath at the feeling of his lips skimming your neck, hating how easily he can reduce you to this.

“I… I always wonder what it will feel like. Sometimes I wonder if it will hurt.”

Spencer sighs, interrogation by way of seduction momentarily forgotten. You silently curse yourself for saying something so un-sexy.

“It might, sweetheart. That’s one of the reasons we’ve held back. I… really don’t want to hurt you. I don’t even know if I can.”

You grab his face in both hands, forcing him to look at you with more confidence than you feel.

“Sometimes I worry about it, too. But I like you a lot more than it scares me. I still want to.”

He kisses your palm.

“You’ll be okay. It doesn’t hurt for everyone, and even if it does, you’re resilient.”

“Exactly. So you have to get over yourself.”

Spencer laughs like he wasn’t expecting to, eyes sparkling as he regards you.

“Yeah. Yeah, maybe I do.”

He’s smiling again as he leans down and kisses you—a slow, lingering thing which tastes like spearmint as you part your lips for him.

“Please?” you whisper against him after a long moment. He hums, keeps kissing you.

“What is it that you think you want? You don’t even know what you’re asking for.”

“Tell me,” you beg, chasing his lips. “Tell me what you’re going to do with me. We can talk about it. This is talking about it.”

Spencer exhales deeply, wedging a thigh between yours. Immediately you clamp around it, trying not to grind against him too overtly.

“You want to know what I’d do to you?”

“Yes—” you paw at his jacket. Surprisingly, he doesn’t stop you from pushing it off. Your heart pounds.

“Well… we both know how anxious you get,” he muses, pressing his lips so delicately to your fluttering pulse-point in emphasis, and then back to your mouth. His thigh pushes harder against you to supplant the absence of his lips as he speaks, though he kisses you sporadically and between sentences. “You’re hard to get out of your head when you’re nervous, you know that? I watch it happen. One minute you’re with me, and then you start overthinking, and getting self-conscious. The only thing that seems to relax you is letting me touch you—so first I would touch you like I’ve touched you before. I’d make sure you know how pretty you are and how good you deserve to feel.” You whimper inadvertently at his words, arching into him and grinding against his leg as he pauses to kiss the sensitive soft spot below your jaw. “You’re going to need to be really ready to let me in. Do you know what I mean by that?”

As he asks, he pushes his thigh against you harder. Your body responds immediately, arching into him and seeking more friction. When you squeak, he takes it as a no.

“I mean I need you relaxed and wet. You’ll excuse my crude language.”

You pull at his tie, breathing heavier now and so turned on it’s almost painful.

“What are you gonna do after that?”

“What else is there to do but fuck you after that?” he breathes. “You want me to tell you how I’d fuck you?”

Something about it makes you whine salaciously. You’ve heard him curse—you’ve even heard him talk about fucking you. But it feels more real now; when it’s low in your ear and you’re covertly undressing him and he’s pushing your shirt over your stomach promisingly.

“Yes, please.”

He hums against your jaw, nipping and brushing his lips over the skin as he considers. Leaves you waiting.

“I would have to take my time with you. You’ll be overwhelmed. I know you think you won’t, but you will. I’m going to have to be so, so careful with you, angel. It’s going to drive me insane. But it will feel good for you.”

“Why careful? I don’t want that.”

He chuckles. A chill runs down your spine.

“Yeah, you do. You’re going to want me to be careful when I’m—” he pauses, pressing his thumb to your bare lower tummy and dragging up to a spot below your belly button. He presses down lightly again. “Right here. Approximately.”

The surface of the sun has nothing on the temperature of your skin in this moment, as you writhe underneath him in both arousal and embarrassment. Mostly, burning need. You feel almost sick with it.

“Please don’t make me wait anymore. Just do it, please, Spencer. I need it to be you, I don’t want it to be anyone else. I promise I’m ready.”

It’s silent for a moment. Your heart quickens. You sense his walls wearing away, his instinct to keep you intact for god knows what reason crumbling. He’s finally going to give you what you’ve been begging for.

Spencer opens his mouth, eyes glimmering—

And then his phone rings.

You both freeze—he melts dejectedly before you do, more accustomed to an ill-timed phone call and realizing the finality it can present.

He’s breathing heavily against your neck, as if maybe whoever it is will just hang up. But the phone keeps ringing.

“I’m sorry.”

Your stomach sinks as he sits up, grabbing his phone from the side table and rubbing circles on your inner thigh as he answers.

“This is Reid,” he says, lackluster.

If you wanted, you could hear what Penelope is saying—but you don’t bother listening. It’s going to be a case. Spencer is about to leave. The details are his problem.

“Okay. I’ll be there in an hour.”

He hangs up, tossing the phone onto the mattress and not speaking for a moment, just continuing to rub your leg apologetically. Watching you almost mournfully—taking in your disheveled hair, your likely blown-out pupils, the shirt pushed almost over your chest.

“I have to go right now,” he finally manages with a heavy sigh, gently pulling your shirt back into place.

You sit up, shedding all the hopes that had been building for the evening, and try to sound chipper—though all you feel is bitter disappointment that goes deeper than you understand.

“I know. Go ahead, I can get a cab home.”

He frowns, running his hand over the back of your hair.

“I don’t love the idea of you standing on the sidewalk waiting for a car in this part of town so late. Do you just want to stay here for the night and go home tomorrow?”

You force a smile. Great. So you’ll be spending the night in his bed after all—just without him.

“Sure. Thanks.”

“Yeah.”

Neither of you are feeling particularly grateful.

Soon you’re walking him to his own door. Both of you come to a stop in front.

“I’m sorry,” he sighs again.

“Spencer, it’s fine. It’s your job. You don’t need to apologize. You were very clear about this part when we started dating.”

“I know, but… it’s easier in theory than in practice.”

You smile. If Spencer is a reflection of you, it doesn’t quite reach your eyes. His hair is still messy from your fingers running through it and he’s missing his tie. You hope all his coworkers see and feel bad about taking him away from you.

But it’s not their fault. You just want someone to blame.

Instead you mould yourself to his body, wrapping around him like you belong there. He returns your embrace, pressing his lips into the crook of your shoulder and rubbing your back in that way he always does with you.

In that moment, your affection for him becomes so profound it’s like a chemical reaction—everywhere he touches burns and you love him so fucking much it aches in every inch of your body the way your muscles do when you have a bad fever. Love is the most terrible of afflictions, you realize. It is a fever dream. It’s every fiber of your being screaming to tell him how you feel, to beg him on your knees not to go because you love him like a child loves a parent or a bee loves honeysuckle or the ocean loves the horizon. Pared down to your most basic components, the barest version of yourself, you require him. Your soul needs his soul.

“Spencer?”

“Hm?”

It’s nothing more than an absentminded hum against your skin.

“I…”

Should you be looking him in the eye when you say this? Should you say it right before he has to leave? Just because you say it doesn’t change the fact that he’s about to be gone for several long days. Maybe this is a terrible time to admit something that suddenly feels so true and so consequential.

He senses your internal conflict, pulling back despite your resistance and holding your face between his hands.

“You what?” He murmurs, soft eyes bouncing back and forth between your own. Fuck—you feel so observed, now. Like he can read your mind.

“I forget.”

FUUUUUUCK.

Spencer blinks. Processes. You watch the disbelief crystallizing over his eyes like ice freezing over a lake.

He knows.

He knows you didn’t forget, and he probably knows what you were going to say, and he’s going to tell himself he was wrong to spare your dignity.

Everything hurts when he kisses you. You wonder what regret tastes like.

“Well, let me know if you remember.”

It’s too gentle and at the same time he can’t hide the edge with all the tenderness in the world. You nod as if in a trance, already looking forward to dissociating as you lie in bed and stare at the dark ceiling.

Two small goodbyes are exchanged, slightly stifled now, as if shared between drunk strangers who have sobered up and are mutually embarrassed about how candidly they’d interacted before.

You close the door behind him, doing up all the locks, and meticulously flick every light switch in the apartment off before climbing into his bed—though you don’t really feel like you deserve to be there anymore.

But perhaps this is all an overreaction. It’s not like you owe it to him to say I love you, or anything—it was bad timing, anyway. And why can’t he say it? In fact, why hasn’t he said it?

Maybe you have it all wrong.

Maybe he doesn’t feel that way about you.

You fall asleep before you allow these questions to make you sick.

24 hours go by.

24 hours go by and you really had meant to leave his apartment—it was just that you woke up late, and your phone was dead so you couldn’t call a car, so you charged it while you made breakfast, and then you ate, and then you decided to take a shower and wash your clothes, and then it was two in the afternoon and you hadn’t left yet and you decided to walk to the store and replenish the groceries you’d used up.

Maybe you got a bit distracted looking at flowers and other beautiful things at the market and by the time you got home it was 5:00, so you decided to wait until seven to skip rush hour. And then eight, just to be sure.

Before you know it, it’s midnight, and you’re dozing off in his bed again (teeth cleaned with the brush you’d bought at the store—maybe this whole situation hadn’t been entirely unwitting on your part.)

Throughout the day, you tried to let all your anxiety about the previous night melt away. If it’s something that needs to be addressed, Spencer will address it. Everything will work out in the end. That thought is how you’re able to doze off.

You’re almost asleep when your phone lights up and begins buzzing on the side table. You wince as your eyes open, not adjusting well to the harsh bright display and unable to discern who’s even calling you at this hour. Stupidly, probably because you’re half asleep, you answer without checking.

“Hello?”

Your voice is groggy, quiet with sleep.

“Shit, did I wake you?”

“Spence?” you whisper, stomach flipping at the sound of his voice on the other line. You feel caught, still sleeping in his bed.

“… yeah,” he chuckles. “Did you not check who was calling before you picked up?”

“I was asleep,” you pout. “Kinda.”

“Okay. Go back to sleep, honey. We’ll talk tomorrow.”

You sit bolt upright, phone balanced between tense fingers and speaking directly into the microphone.

“No! No, I’m awake. What’s up? Why did you call?”

A longer stretch of silence—you’re too sleepy to comprehend what it might mean, though never too sleepy to worry about it. With a pang of pain, you recall your strange goodbye, the words you hadn’t said.

“I just needed to hear your voice,” he sighs. You frown, staring at nothing in particular in the pitch black room.

“Oh. Is everything okay?”

“As much as it can be.”

“Right.”

More quiet. You chew on the inside of your cheek, stricken with a sudden feeling of awkwardness that you haven’t had with Spencer in a while.

“I’m sorry… I don’t really know what to say.”

“That’s okay,” he says, and you can hear the smile in his voice which makes you feel a bit better, “why don’t you tell me about your day? Or you can absolutely go back to sleep, if you’re too tired.”

“Don’t ask me about my day,” you whisper, flopping down on the bed once more. Shame seeps into your voice. He laughs.

“What? Why?”

“Because if I tell you you’re going to think I’m super weird and you’re going to break up with me.”

Laughter tapers off into gentler tones.

“I already think you’re super weird. It’s actually one of your most attractive qualities.”

Blood rushes to your cheeks.

“But it’s like… borderline crazy.”

Immediately, he replies, “for better or worse, I also frequently find myself attracted to crazy.”

“Thank you for calling me crazy and super weird,” you grumble.

“I also called you attractive twice. Tell me.”

When his tone takes on that easy, assertive quality, and it’s sort of raspy and low because it’s late and he’s been talking all day, and you can hear the lazy smile on his face—you imagine him laying on his hotel bed, arm slung over his eyes in the dark as he grins into the microphone—you have a very difficult time saying no.

“Fine. Guess where I am right now.”

“Um, I would hope you’re in bed?”

You smile to yourself, basking in the victory of successfully throwing him off his game even slightly.

“Guess whose bed.”

Silence.

“What an interesting question.” That cocky smile, the low drawling is back, and you chew on your lip, ignoring the shiver that runs down your spine. “If it’s not mine or yours, we’re going to have issues.”

“But if it is yours? You’re not going to call the police on me?”

“Why would I call the police? To tell them there’s a pretty girl in my bed and I don’t want her there?”

“To tell them your psychopathic girlfriend broke into your apartment and might be holding hostages there.”

Spencer laughs; a brittle, drawn out thing, flat and quiet as the desert.

“If you were a psychopath, calling the cops would be a waste of time. I would handle you myself.” The idea of being handled has your thighs clenching. “But—yeah, don’t invite anyone else in.” More humor finds its way into his voice, momentarily relieving some tension that had sneakily begun to build. “Having people in my space makes me anxious.”

“But not me?” Your whisper is half flirtatious, half insecure. Spencer’s reply is soft, as if he’s picking up on this from hundreds of miles away.

“No, not you. You are always the exception.”

“Good,” you say, cheeks aching as you half-bury your warm face into his pillow. “Because I made myself really comfortable. You have a nice shower, by the way.”

Spencer groans.

“You’re killing me.”

“What? What did I do!”

“Don’t talk to me about my bed and my shower. I might start to think you’re intentionally being a brat.”

“You asked me about my day! I’m just telling you what I did!”

But you’re also intentional teasing him for sure. After a pause, he sighs in defeat.

“You’re right. I did do that. Tell me what else happened.”

“Well,” you begin, all too eager, “I had to put my clothes in the dryer after I got out, so I borrowed some of yours. But then they were way comfier than mine, so after I went to the store I put them back on, and—”

“Okay.”

“Okay what?” you frown.

“Tell me what this is.”

“I—I don’t know what you mean.”

Lying to a profiler is usually pointless.

“I’m not stupid, sweetheart. Tell me why you keep talking about my shower and my bed and my clothes.”

Caught red-handed. Your skin heats up.

“I don’t know. I miss you.”

He hums in a way that blurs the line between sympathetic and patronizing. Even through the phone you can feel the bass of it in your bones. It changes the frequency you’re vibrating at. It’s hypnotic.

“But that’s not really why you’re being intentionally provocative, is it?”

“No,” you admit quietly. “I’m still upset you had to go last night.”

“So you’re frustrated and you’re taking it out on me?”

Your brow furrows. Well, when he puts it like that…

“I’m not taking anything out on you.”

“I think you are. And I don’t appreciate that, because I’m on your side, honey. Do you think I prefer being in a hotel bed by myself or being in my bed with you?”

Somehow, he makes you feel like a scolded child. But he makes it appealing in ways you don’t understand.

“Your bed with me,” you murmur, skin prickling with the coldness of his absence even as you curl under the blanket.

“Right. So why don’t you tell me what I can do for you right now, instead of punishing me for things that are beyond my control?”

“I wasn’t punishing you,” you mutter.

“No? You weren’t intentionally talking about using my shower and sleeping in my bed and putting on my clothes so that I’d have to think about what I can’t have right now?”

“I—”

“Believe me when I tell you I have been thinking about what I can’t have, all day. Your efforts are entirely redundant and you can’t say anything about yourself that is even close to as dirty as the frankly disrespectful thoughts I’ve been having about you for seventeen hours.”

The lack of air is making you so dizzy your vision goes gray at the edges.

“What… what thoughts?”

“None that you need to concern yourself with.”

“You can’t just say something like that and then not tell me!” you insist. He’s obviously giving you a taste of your own medicine and it’s fair but it doesn’t mean you have to like it.

“I can do whatever I want,” Spencer corrects cooly in a way that pisses you off beyond belief because he’s right. It triggers some adolescent immaturity within you—a desire to get back at him, so to speak. He wants intentionally provocative? He can have it.

“Fine. Then so can I. And there’s nothing you can do to stop me.”

“I wouldn’t dream of it even if I could.”

“Spencer,” you warn. “If you don’t tell me what you were thinking I’m gonna—” you look around the room for ammo. “I’m gonna look through your nightstand!”

“Go ahead. I’ll warn you, it’s not very interesting.”

“Sounds like what someone who has something hide would say,” you mumble, crawling across the mattress through tangled sheets and using your phone flashlight to open the drawer.

Spencer is patient and silent as you take in its contents—a small blue leather-bound notebook (full of what looks like Russian), a fountain pen, a glasses case, various kinds of vitamins, and—

“Spencer Reid,” you say, dragging out his name and pretending nothing is fluttering in your stomach, “what are these?”

“I don’t know. I can’t see what you’re referring to.”

“Take a wild guess.”

“Oh, I have one. But I’d like to hear you say it.”

You realize you may have gotten yourself in deeper than you meant to by going through his stuff. Well—they don’t say karma is a bitch for nothing.

“What are you doing with a box of condoms?”

He chuckles and you feel it in your whole body, warm as you stretch across his mattress and eye the box like it might jump out at you.

“Those are years old. I’ve used three since I bought them.”

“Don’t tell me that,” you whine. “I don’t wanna think about all the other women you’ve seduced.”

“You wanted them to be for you, huh?”

You flush. Honestly you hadn’t even thought about that.

“I… I don’t know. I kind of just assumed…”

It’s silent for a second and you frown, realizing you hadn’t even considered protection when you’d imagined sleeping with him before.

“You assumed what, honey?” he asks, voice soft.

“It’s dumb. I can’t tell you.”

“You can tell me anything. I’m not going to think it’s dumb, I promise.”

You chew on your lip, letting your eyes unfocus on the box as you muster the courage to be honest.

“Whenever I imagined it… we didn’t… use anything.”

The words make you cringe even as you’re saying them. So does the quiet that follows.

“When you imagine us sleeping together, we don’t use a condom?”

“Ah!” The phone drops to the mattress as you cover your ears and roll onto your side, curling into yourself once more. “You didn’t have to say it! You make me sound so weird!”

“It’s not weird,” he laughs, because he can probably imagine exactly what you just did, “I just wanted to make sure I was understanding you. That said… we would definitely use protection.”

“Do we have to?”

The quiet words take even you by surprise—and they seem to stun Spencer as well. Several false starts are punctuated by a sigh as he gathers his thoughts.

“We really should, baby. That’s the kind of thing we need to take seriously.”

“But you’re… you’re good, right?”

Thankfully he picks up on your meaning.

“I am. I wouldn’t touch you if I weren’t.”

“And I’m good. So...”

“Hm. And has anyone ever explained to you where babies come from?”

You groan in frustration.

“Spencer, I’m being serious! There are ways to negate that.”

“Honey,” he murmurs, “I understand that. But it would be irresponsible of me to say yes. We can talk about it in the future, but—”

“I’m telling you it’s already dealt with. The chances of an accidental pregnancy are slim to none.”

The new information hangs in the air for a moment until Spencer speaks—to your surprise, his voice is low and humorous.

“That is… good to know. But even so—I’m setting a dangerous precedent if I always let you get exactly what you want.”

“Is it such a bad thing that I just wanna—I wanna know what it feels like? You don’t want that?”

“That’s not what I said. I want to know exactly what you feel like. I’m just hesitant to give in so quickly because it makes me look weak.”

You laugh breathlessly, caught between being turned on by the first part of his sentence and amused by the sarcastic second half. Your thighs clench and your hand absentmindedly wanders between them.

“You know what I was thinking about?” you ask. Spencer hums curiously. “I was thinking about when you let me, um… when you let me touch you how you touch me.” He hums again, but you can hear the amused curve of a smile in it now.

“When you had your mouth all full of me and you looked so pretty?”

“When I—yeah,” you agree, too caught up to deny his compliment as your fingers brush your most sensitive spot through clothing. “And how you got me all messy after. And I was wondering what it would feel like… inside me.”

He sucks in a breath. Your legs brush against each other and you twist slightly as you pretend like you’re not touching yourself just a little bit.

“You want me to come inside you?”

“Yeah,” you whisper, brain short-circuiting at the way those words sound in his voice.

—

On the other side of the line, Spencer isn’t doing a fantastic job of thinking clearly either. His dick is half-hard already and it’s only getting worse with each little noise you make that you don’t seem to realize you’re making.

“Really? That would be very messy, baby. I’m surprised that’s what you want.”

“But I really want it,” you breathe. He’s not even looking as he slips his hand under the waistband of his pajamas and palms himself, his other hand rubbing tiredly over his face as his phone rests on his chest. This was not how he intended for this call to go, believe it or not—but he’s here now.

“Yeah? Is that why you’re touching yourself right now?”

You go silent—which is more or less exactly the reaction Spencer had been expecting. Patiently he waits for you to deny it, in three, two—

“’M not.”

Now, he could explain how he knows that’s a lie. How your breathing pattern changed, and your voice got softer and airier, and how you started speaking with smaller words in fragmented sentences. But he doesn’t feel like explaining any of that.

“I know that’s not true,” he murmurs. “You know what? It wasn’t fair to get you all worked up last night and then leave. I don’t want you frustrated, honey. I want you to do whatever you need to do.”

You make a little gasping noise, and Spencer can imagine the way your back would arch when you did it. His own hips buck slightly as his dick twitches under his fingers.

“Where are you touching?”

“Um—over my clothes.”

Cute.

“Go under them for me. Tell me how it feels when you’re touching yourself like that.”

It takes a moment, in which all he hears is the rustling of fabric, until you’re whispering, “feels… it feels good. I wish you were here.”

He inhales, freeing his cock and squeezing the base.

“I know. Just listen to my voice, pretty. I’m right here.”

Spencer allows himself a few slow tugs as he imagines what’s happening in his bed. You make a squeaking noise, like a held-back moan, and his eyes screw shut.

“I need them inside,” you whine, and he knows you’re referring to his fingers—the ones currently stroking his own leaking cock.

“You can use your own, just give yourself a minute first. Remember what I said about needing to be ready?”

“I am ready—” judging by the surprised chirp you interrupt yourself with, you’ve proven yourself right. What surprises Spencer is the weak sound of disappointment you make next. “Spence, it doesn’t feel the same.”

“We’re different sizes, honey. Your hands aren’t as big as mine. But you can still make it feel good.”

He almost says, 90% of the nerves in the vaginal canal are located in the lower third—in other words, within approximately 2.36 inches from the opening, which you can most certainly reach—but he refrains. He’s not sure if that’s good dirty talk.

“You have a really sensitive spot about three inches up, right in front. It’s going to feel a little different than the rest of you when you touch it. I want you to try and find it for me, okay?”

“Okay,” you breathe, ever-eager to please even from a great distance. There’s a quiet moment. “I can’t—I don’t think I can r—oh,”

The moan is so pretty Spencer can’t help speeding up the motion of his hand, hissing slightly as his fingers brush against the angry tip with every pump.

“Did you find it?”

“Yeah,” you whine, a weak, high-pitched thing. “Oh my god.”

“Be gentle,” he warns with some effort as his own hips jump slightly. “You’re really sensitive there. If you’re not careful you’ll make yourself sore.”

“I don’t care—holy shit—” the way your voice rises and tightens to a squeak at the end has Spencer moaning as he fucks his fist. A black hole forms and warps time, turning every minute into a second and every second into an infinity until he has no idea how much time is going by. He drags his thumb over the tip, smearing precum over his cock and whining as his jaw drops at the feeling. “Oh my god, Spencer,” in that same strained, high voice. “’M gonna—ah!”

He gets the general sentiment.

“What, baby? You’re gonna make yourself come all over your fingers? Is that what you wanted to tell me?”

“Mhm!”

“Yeah, I bet you are. It feels good, huh?”

“Yes,” you cry.

“See? You don’t need my fingers to feel good. Mine barely fit, you know that? I have to hold your fucking hips down whenever I put my fingers in you because you can’t stop squirming. I don’t know how you think you’re going to take my cock.”

“Spencer!”

He knows.

“Come, baby. Let me hear you.”

The delicate sounds you make as you bring yourself to orgasm tip him over the edge of his own—grunting as he comes all over his fist.

“Jesus,” he strains under his breath, the word dragging out into two long syllables as his hips buck involuntarily and cum drips down his knuckles. He’s lightheaded and he’s created a mess and it all happened so quickly. “Fuck,” he breathes, a rasping chuckle as he reaches for the towel he’d dropped on the bed after his shower earlier. “You conscious over there?”

“I’m conscious,” you slur, breathing heavily. “I’ve never had an orgasm by myself before.”

“Are you proud of yourself?” Spencer smiles, wiping his hand off and making sure he’s otherwise clean. “You should be. I am.”

He’s barely kidding.

“I’ll be proud when I can do it without your help,” you tease.

“But I’ll always want to help you with that.” His already warm face flushes further as he goes over what he’d said. “Sorry I was so vulgar.”

You laugh. He blushes even more.

“Are you? I think you secretly love being vulgar.”

“I don’t know why! I have no idea where it comes from. I would never speak that way in any other context. I should probably work on that. Sometimes I look back on the things I say and I’m genuinely appalled.”

“Well, don’t stop on my account. Personally I enjoy it.”

“Yeah, I think I’m corrupting you. You probably shouldn’t enjoy it.”

The truth of it weighs heavy on his mind, but he’s pretty sure his voice alone doesn’t betray that and you can’t sense it through the phone.

“Oh, my god. Do not do that falling on your sword shit. I like being corrupted by you. If you stop I’ll be very upset.”

“Well god forbid you get upset,” he teases gently. Idly he wonders if the reason he’s suddenly feeling so depressed is because his cortisol levels were already high from the case, and then he jarred his system with an orgasm, spiking his dopamine and ultimately causing it to plummet without the oxytocin release that post-coital physical contact would usually provide.

Or if it was something else. It could also be something else.

For the millionth time, he wishes he was with you. Part of him also wants to go to sleep. But mostly he wishes he was with you.

—

A comfortable silence settles over the conversation. In the ditch between words, you’re mapping constellations in the texture of Spencer’s ceiling. If you squeeze your eyes almost shut, you can imagine it really is the night sky. You can imagine he’s really here.

You think about what he said—his apparently mindless vulgarity. Did it mean anything? Or was he just rambling to get you off?

“Spencer?” you murmur.

“Yeah?”

“Can I ask you a question?”

He sounds earnest, perhaps a little tired, as he replies, “always,” through the little metal rectangle on your chest. He likes me and my questions are important to him, you repeat to yourself silently as you work up the strength.

“If Penelope hadn’t called, last night… were you going to have sex with me?”

Your lip tastes like his toothpaste as you chew it. Spencer sucks in a breath of air like he’s about to speak—and lets it fizzle out like foam on a carbonated drink.

“I don’t know,” he finally admits, lamely. “That wasn’t my plan, but you can be extremely convincing when you want to be.”

“But why can’t it be your plan?” It’s an almost whine, pouty and childish—but the next words are quiet and pained. “Is it something I’m doing wrong?”

“No, no! It’s not you. You’re perfect. It’s—it’s complicated. It’s a me thing.”

Such trite words—such a ubiquitous, simple excuse sounds almost comical from his mouth when you know he’s capable of all the eloquence in the world. It’s not you, it’s me. It’s ridiculous.

“Okay. Let me simplify this for you,” you begin with an uncharacteristic assertiveness that surprises even you. “I want to have sex with you. Either we are going to have sex or we’re not. So your future branches in two diverging paths. In one, we have sex, and then we keep having sex. In the other we never have sex ever. If you want to ever have the privilege of fucking me, then we just have to do it. Otherwise it simply will never happen. And I’m not eternally patient, Reid.”

Go me, you think, slightly breathless from your monologue.

“Watch your mouth,” he says dryly. Something about the chastisement makes your stomach flip and your whole body tingle. “When you talk to me you call me Spencer. I will also accept Doctor Reid.” You wrestle down a smile, refusing to let him change the subject. A delayed sigh from him sobers up the conversation. “You know what I want. I’ve been very clear with you about that. But…”

“But…?”

Another sigh. A deeper, shuddering sigh, like his breath is searching for balance. Like Spencer is in a precarious position for which he was unprepared.

“But—but to be completely honest… I worry that you’ll regret choosing me. And I know virginity is a social construct and I’m not implying that your worth will somehow be diminished if we have sex but regardless of my views on virginity as a construct, having sex for the first time can be weird and scary and it’s incredibly intimate and I don’t want you to regret your first time like I regret mine because you chose the wrong person.”

The words come at you so rapid-fire it takes you a moment to process them. And aside from all the ways you want to reassure him that you will not regret choosing him—that you could never, ever regret anything about him—one thing stands out.

“You regret your first time?”

Something between a scoff and a sigh travels through the line. You can tell he’s not annoyed at you for asking so much as he’s flustered himself with all his own words as he occasionally does.

“Yeah. Yes. Sometimes I do. The person—she didn’t… like me as much as I liked her. And I was really, really in love with her, and she knew that and she knew she wasn’t in love with me—or maybe she was, I don’t know—but my point is, when one person likes the other more than the other person like them, things get complicated. And however you feel about me—that’s fine. It’s fine. I don’t want you to feel bad if we don’t feel exactly the same way about each other. I understand that this is newer for you, it’s different, I—I just don’t want us to do something we can’t undo because I don’t want to relive that. And I’m not saying it will never happen but I just don’t want you to make this choice when… when right now, I think we’re in different places emotionally. Regardless of that, I want you to choose the right person. I don’t want you to choose me and then find out that we feel differently after we sleep together and leave you feeling like you signed up for something you didn’t understand. I’m sorry. Maybe telling you this is selfish. But I’ve been thinking about it and trying to ignore it and I think I just have to be completely honest.”

Your ears ring like Spencer just fired a blank right into the microphone. Like you just got backhanded across the face and now you have the world’s worst case of whiplash.

Every finger is numb and your blood is so cold it feels blue as it slithers thick through your veins.

What you want to do is scream. What you want to do is go back to last night and stop yourself from almost telling him I love you, slap yourself and keep your cards a little closer to your chest. Because now he knows, and he doesn’t feel the same.

You want to scream bloody murder.

But when you try, when you unhinge your jaw and part your chapped lips and expect a bellow to come hurdling up the corridor of your throat with so much force it rattles your bones, all that falls out is a small, “oh.”

Maybe that’s worse.

Spencer doesn’t reply. You hate yourself for feeling obliged to fill the silence.

“I didn’t realize you…”

I didn’t realize that you don’t love me back.

I didn’t realize I like you more than you like me.

I didn’t realize you’d tell me to masturbate in your fucking bed and then drop this not even five minutes later.

If Spencer Reid was able to talk to you over the phone with the same amount of affection and familiarity as always, like everything was still okay, knowing you love him and he doesn’t love you the whole time, he is not who you thought he was.

“I’m sorry,” he lamely says again, like it could ever help.

More silence. Now you can’t bring yourself to speak, so Spencer does.

“I realize how awkward this is. I really didn’t mean to put you in this position. Especially not over the phone when I—god, I’m stupid. I’m sorry. But can we—can we talk about this in person when I get back? Please?”

Is that what grownups do? Is the proper etiquette for him to take you out to dinner and explain why he’s not in love with you? Is he going to break up with you?

What does one even wear to a breakup date?

“Okay,” you whisper. Your eyes sting, your everything stings, like you’ve been wrapped in a shroud of briar. Sheets that were soft a moment ago feel like sandpaper on open wounds. You feel like an open wound.

Spencer sighs. It’s a sound of relief that confuses and hurts you even more.

“Okay. I—okay. Thank you. Um—I’ll let you go back to sleep, now.”

“Okay,” you repeat—as if any of this were okay. But you can’t keep being that stupid girl who feels it all so much harder, who loves easily and begs to be loved in return, too naive to assume that someone who treats her so kindly might not reciprocate her feelings. It has to be okay, because if it’s not, you’re silly and dramatic and you’re just proving him right.

“Goodnight,” Spencer whispers, and you can’t help but feeling that it’s the last time you’ll ever hear those words from his mouth while you’re in his bed. And he’s not even fucking here.

So you pull the blanket a little higher. You let your tears stain his pillow because they’ll be invisible by the morning. It will be like they were never here. Like you were never here.

“Goodnight.”

#spencer reid #spencer reid fic #spencer reid smut #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid x fem!reader #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x self insert #spencer reid angst #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid x you #criminal minds #criminal minds smut #criminal minds x reader #criminal minds imagine #criminal minds fic

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wileys-russo · 2 days

Note

alessia russo, “how’d you get pizza sauce there??”, cozy night in!!

pizza party II a.russo

"-no, amore no!" your girlfriend protested as she saw what you'd grabbed out from the cupboard. "baby yes, yes!" you cheered happily, the can of pineapple chunks placed down onto the counter.

"thats an insult. you've insulted me, you've insulted the pizza dough, you've insulted the entire country of italy, you've-" alessia started to rant as you rolled your eyes unfazed by her behaviour.

"you're half italian russo, relax." you grinned, rummaging around in the drawer for a can opener. "russo!" your girlfriend gasped in disbelief at the use of her last name.

"you don't call me that. you may call me baby, babe, love of my life, my everything, my love, darling, sweets, angel-" alessia started to list, ticking them off on her fingers as you sighed and shook your head.

"are you done now?" you cut her off with a raised eyebrow, finally finding the can opener and standing up straight again. "no actually i'm not, there's still the italian names." your girlfriend warned as you sighed.

"amore mio, tesoro, vita mia, angelo mio-" the blonde again listed them on her fingers, only stopping when you gave yet another deep sigh. "you get the point. never russo!" the taller girl wagged a finger in warning and bumped you out of the way with her hip, taking the can opener where you were struggling.

"thank you love." you kissed her cheek expecting her to do it for you. "alessia!" you protested as the can opener was dropped back in the drawer, the pineapple then put on a shelf out of your reach as your eyebrows furrowed into an annoyed frown.

"ah! also off limits, try again." the girl made a buzzer noise with her mouth, grabbing out a knife. "why can't i have pineapple on my pizza?" you questioned crossing your arms as she ignored you and you rolled your eyes.

"why can't i have pineapple on mine baby?" you corrected as she looked up with a grin. "much better. and i told you, its an insult!" she bonked you gently on the head with a wrapped stick of pepperoni.

"pizza is supposed to represent diversity, freedom of choice! you can't police what i put on it." you warned as the taller girl shrugged. "alright, go get your pineapple then babe." she smiled slyly knowing full well it was out of your reach.

"you're insufferable." you grumbled with a huff. "you'll thank me when this pizza is the best thing you've ever tasted baby, trust the process and the italian." alessia grinned, shooing you away as you tried to help.

"half italian." you reminded, ducking as she tossed a mushroom slice at you with a frown. "i thought the point of date night was that we cook together!" you laughed, taking a seat at the counter and watching your girlfriend prep everything.

"don't you remember what happened the last time we cooked together?" alessia reminded as your face flushed warm and you buried it in your hands. "it was an accident!" you whined, looking up with a scowl as a cherry tomato hit you in the head.

"stop wasting food!" you tossed it back as she caught it and threw it in the bin. "safe hands." she smirked, blowing on them as if they were alight making you roll your eyes.

"this recipe doesn't even call for pepper! so i would be perfectly fine to help you my love." you smiled hopefully, the last time you'd tried you'd accidentally broken the pepper grinder and caused the entire casing of whole peppercorns to fall into the pasta your girlfriend had spent an hour making.

"you're very cute baby girl but not very convincing." the blonde smiled in amusement, still chopping things as you sighed, the two of you falling into conversation.

"right, come and assemble them." she waved you over once she'd rolled out the dough for the bases and chopped everything up. "are you going to critique my every choice?" you deadpanned as the striker grinned.

"only if its wrong." "well then you can make it for me, save the headache." "headache!" "yes, add that to your list of nicknames babe."

with a wink you left her to it, jogging upstairs to grab some extra blankets and a hoodie given the temperature had dropped significantly tonight and if the dark grey clouds hanging were saying anything rain would be due soon.

"pizza's are in, i'm just gonna clean up tesoro!" you smiled at the nickname, the girl very rarely ever speaking any italian, which you knew was because despite her boasting she hardly knew any.

gathering what you wanted you tossed them down the stairs not fancying tripping yourself over trying to carry them, a few soft thumps sounding as they hit the ground and you made your way after them.

you chuckled hearing alessia on the phone in the kitchen, knowing from the laughter every few seconds that she was talking to ella, only confirmed by the girl in question being put on speaker and singing out hello.

"its date night tooney leave us alone! go bother your boyfriend." the blonde chuckled ignoring her best friends whines that she missed her and joe was out of town with arlo on a boys weekend.

"yep love you love you love you-" alessia repeated as ella rambled on, eventually clicking end call making you laugh as the mancunian was cut off mid sentence right as the timer went.

"prepare to be amazed!" your girlfriend puffed her chest out proudly as you joined her in the kitchen, leaning against the counter and hummed, gesturing for her to continue.

slipping on oven mitts she bent down and carefully grabbed out both trays. "less maybe one at a time baby." you warned as she scoffed, one pizza try in each hand and presenting them proudly as you clapped your approval.

everything was seeming fine as she turned to place them down, the air fragrant with the smell of the freshly cooked dough making your stomach rumble, not having eaten for hours now since you'd been running around doing errands all day.

though it all went wrong as your girlfriend tried to flick the oven closed with her foot, missing the door entirely as she kicked at air and lost her footing, your eyes widening as she went tumbling down to the ground, and the pizzas went with her.

"ah fuck!" the footballer swore as one of the hot trays brushed her arm, kicking them both away as she lay down now flat on her back and covered in marinara sauce and various toppings.

"oh my god less! are you alright?" you covered your mouth with your hands, peeking over the counter to take a look at her, an utterly defeated look on the older girls face as she let out a deep and defeated sigh.

"don't." she warned seriously looking up and seeing the corners of your mouth turn upward. but it was far too late as you also fell to the floor, clutching at your stomach and near dying of laughter as your body convulsed with amusement.

a few more beats of time passed before eventually your girlfriends own laughter joined you, the blondes eyes closed as her body shook and you managed to turn onto your stomach, crawling around the counter to where she was.

"oh lessi." you shook your head in disbelief at the sight in front of you, sat up on your knees and staring down with a pitiful smile as her laughter turned to slight giggles and her face was nearly as red as the pizza sauce covering her top.

"i was doing so well!" she groaned with another bark of laughter, covering her face with her arms. "you were doing so well baby, so well." you agreed with a giggle of your own, tugging her arms away as she pouted up at you.

"my cute little pizza." you teased poking at her as she whined and her foot kicked out at you before she sat up with another deep seeded sigh. "i'll get another batch of dough ready." the blonde groaned trying to stand as you shook your head.

"less, my love i adore you and you know i love your cooking. but i am starving and the prep and cooking for those two already took you nearly two hours. if i wait that long i am going to waste away!" you warned making her crack a smile.

"you go have a shower and i'll order us some pizza's to be delivered." you compromised as she made no move to fight you, both of you getting to your feet. "oh no no no! i am not showering again." you stepped back as she tried to draw you into a hug.

"but i need comfort and support right now!" the taller girl protested adorably as you held your ground and shook your head.

"after you shower, my italian stallion." you grinned as she slumped over with a defeated huff. "can we at least get garlic knots?" the striker mumbled as you nodded.

"yeah baby, i'll get you some garlic knots."

when she returned now freshly showered and changed your girlfriend found you curled up in the mountain of blankets and pillows you'd meticulously crafted for the ultimate comfort in the middle of the living room floor.

"hello you big dope." you laughed as she belly flopped on top of you, burying her face in your neck with a grumble back, hugging you tightly as a hand snuck up the back of her top to gently scratch up and down her back.

"less." you held back a smile as she pulled her head out and gave you a look. "how'd you get pizza sauce there?" you laughed, finger swiping behind her ear to collect a dollop of marinara tucked away there.

"i don't know!" the blonde whined flopping back down onto you with a moan of annoyance. "you know i think this takes the cake as being worse than the peppercorns, once we picked them out the pasta was still edible. more so than the floor pizza!" you teased softly.

"alessia!" you squealed as she bit your neck sharply, trying to shrug her away to no avail as her taller form was stretched out comfortably on top of you.

"sorry she's not here right now, try again later."

#woso community #woso #woso x reader #alessia russo x reader #alessia russo #alessia russo imagine #woso fanfics #woso imagine #woso blurbs

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prettyboykatsuki · 1 day

Text

✮ tags ; gn! reader, established relationship, fluff, alcohol.

"Shouto,"

"Hm?"

"You're drunk,"

Your boyfriend leans his head on your shoulder and makes a noise in the back of his throat. "A bit."

More than a bit, you think. In actuality, you don't think you've ever seen him this drunk before. He's okay with alcohol, usually - but tends to stay away from drinking too much. You think the last time you saw him get actually drunk at all, you were both twenty and he was barely tipsy then.

He doesn't like getting drunk, he's told you before. A few times. The lack of control and hazy memories make him just slightly anxious, so he's careful around liquor.

You've been dating for years now, and unless he's living some double-life (a different one than being a hero) - you've never seen him get this wasted. Ever. To everyone else in your surroundings, it probably doesn't look that way.

But you've spent enough time to know him, and he's not like this usually. Nowhere near as absent minded he is now, at least. He hasn't been able to sit still since he downed that last bottle of shochu. He went to go play with Bakugou's cat, Momo and you couldn't find him afterwards. You lost sight of him for about half-an-hour until you finally found him in the living room while everyone else was outside, feeding Momo some treat that squeezes from a tube.

(You still don't know where or how he found where Bakugou kept the treats, but you decide it's better you don't ask. Plausible deniability, or something.)

You're both grown-ups, and you're not one to worry about his liquor intake. Still, though - you're worried. Even if it seems like he's not different to everyone else, you can tell. And it's bothering you.

"Shouto," You call out to him, your hands reaching to pet the back of his neck. He's a head taller than you, and a little heavy. Palms smooth against the prickly ends of his hair - tapered and neat. He presses his cheek to your shoulder. "Shouto, love."

"Oh," He says, suddenly remember where he is. He stands up but doesn't back away far enough to give you space. You're in a far off empty corner. Most people are in the backyard but Shouto wanted some air - so you're crowded against a wooden fence and wall with your boyfriend locking you in out by the entrance. He smells nice, you think - clean with a soft touch of aftershave. You look up at him. "Hi,"

"You're drunk," You repeat, watching him blink rapidly - bleary eyes and the faintest line of a smile whenever he glances at you. He's bent over, staring at you hard. "Is something wrong?"

His expression is the same as always. Unchangingly neutral with a strong and uncharacteristic rosiness to it. Your boyfriend is handsome, alarmingly so. You're aware of it constantly, but this new face knocks the air out of your lungs.

He's... pouting you think. But not fully. His lips aren't drawn together, it's subtle like most expressions on him.

But it's...there. You're not imagining it - the soft furrow of his brow, the press of his lips. His expression grows warmer and it only makes you more confused. He shakes it off, all of a sudden, a micro-expression that fades just as quickly as it appears.

"I'm okay."

"Are you?""

He blinks slowly at that. Concern aside, you can't help but think he's cute like this. His ears are pink enough to stick out against his skin, cold air making them flush even darker.

"I'm okay," He says, then looks at you. He sobers up if only for that moment. "Had something on my mind."

"Something you can't tell me?"

"It's supposed to be a secret," He mumbles. He's really drunk. You realize this late. "So I don't know if I can."

"Mm," You reply. You feel like doting on him suddenly, so you do, petting the back of his neck before hugging him a little. "That's okay."

He follows up with a light groan. You've never heard him complain like that, so you laugh. "But I want to tell you."

"I promise I'll keep your secret at least."

He smiles at you more fully that time.

He pauses for a minute, thinking it over. You don't do or say anything in return. A beat passes of you two standing and swaying with silence where Shout to grabs your hands from in front of you. You think he's being affectionate again, wanting to hold them.

He draws your hands to his pocket though. The angle is awkward, makes you bend your wrist on the inside of coat pocket until you feel something hard and square touch your fingers. It's velvet from the material. A box of some kind.

...A box?

Shouto guides your hand again, this time out. When you pull it out, his palm is over yours. It's a jewellery box. You blink a few times, confused. Shouto hasn't let go of your hand.

"I keep missing the timing," He says, hiccuping. The lack of sobriety more clear than ever from the slight slur in his words. "It's been in my pockets for a while."

Your eyes go wide open. You can feel your own confusion and excitement twist and tangle inside of you, frantic to get a better read on the situation. He smiles down at you, disarmingly and then closes his eyes. His forehead is warm as it touches yours.

"...I thought you didn't want to married. Not really, at least." You whisper.

"Me too," He says, a wetness to his laugh that tugs at your heart . "It was on a whim. I wanted to talk to you about it. But." He frowns a little "It's tough."

You chuckle, a sudden wetness to your voice too. "I bet it was,"

He smiles at you, big and stupid. "I love you," He closes is eyes and presses his forehead to yours more. "Thank you for everything."

"Shouto," You repeat, unsure of what else to say. "What brought this up?"

"Mm," He shrugs, getting sleepier by the minute. "I thought giving you my last name would make you suffer." He admits, soft and unsure. "But taking yours. That felt...okay. Felt nice."

"You're silly."

"Yes," He says, not denying it. "And I love you."

"And you love me." You repeat, a grin splitting your face. Big tears at the corner of your eyes, making your vision sting and your cheeks ache. You look up at him again. "Enough to marry me?"

He seems almost sheepish that time. "If you'll have me."

"Are you sober enough to even remember this?"

His embarrassment makes him blush and laugh again. "My heart is beating so loud I'm a little afraid of it. So yes. I'm sure I'll remember." He admits.

"Let's get married, then." You repeat to him, so achingly happy you think you could die. You wonder when to tell your friends. Bakugou will be pissed you did at his place. "If you'll have me."

He smiles. "I'd like too."

You lean up to press a kiss to his mouth, and Shouto holds you there to kiss you longer than you expect. When you're done kissing, he's smiling.

"Anymore secrets?"

He thinks on it, then hums.

"We should get a cat."

#aristotle.txt #writing tag #todoroki x reader #todoroki fluff #bnha x reader #bnha fluff #this is so corny my god #i want to kiss him #this is gender neutral and very tame #too lazy to add tags

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wandaspup · 3 days

Text

Sinners

Summary: In a small town, you try living up to your mother’s expectations while encountering Wanda Maximoff, a mysterious woman and a childhood friend of your mothers. It leaves you questioning her intentions and your beliefs.

Parings: Wanda x Fem R

Taglist (click and comment to be added for future chapters)

Warnings: Fictional mother is an asshole

Author notes: Things to consider before reading: You are 19 years old while Wanda is 36. I'm not familiar with the bible so please do not take this seriously. It's only fiction.

Warnings will be added as I update more chapters! ♥️ Happy reading

The handles are warm as you push the double doors open of the church, their hinges creaking softly in response to the intrusion. As the door swung apart, it revealed the dimly lit interior bathed in sunlight whistling through the skylight. Thousands of dust particles scattered around the beams, casting a glow. On either side of the church, the stained-glass windows painted with vivid patterns, painted their shadows on the polished floor.

As you lingered behind your parents, hands clasped together at your front. The four walls of the church momentarily silenced the bustling streets before more people entered, quiet murmurs spreading across the churchgoers. People passed by to take their seats, some offered greetings to your parents, while others remarked on how you have grown into a fine young lady. Your family was well known for the small church gatherings they hosted, always extending their hospitality to the community. However, you could not shake the feeling your parents’ ego was involved, driven by their desires to keep their status. Your mother seemed intent on being the best, regardless of the situation, while your father followed her lead.

Lost in your head, you hadn’t noticed the priest approaching your parents until he stood before them, a gentle smile on his lips. “Good morning, everyone,” he greeted, his voice warm and inviting. “I trust you all found yourselves well?”

“Certainly, Father Steve. It’s always a pleasure,” your mother affirmed with a nod, her hand briefly resting on the priest’s arm. Beside her, your father offered a gentle squeeze of

Father Steve’s hand.

His eyes landed on you, a wide grin reaching his face as he moved between your parents. Your feet shuffled beneath you, a slight bow to your head as he addressed you directly.

“My child, you are growing quite fast,” he remarked warmly. “I’m sure your mother and father must be so proud of you.”

You nodded, a faint uncertainty lingering in your response. “I hope so,” you murmured softly. Your gaze flicked over to them, your mother’s stern facade causing a tightness in your stomach. Before the tension could linger further, the priest politely excused himself to begin the ceremony. You followed your parents towards the front row, Father Steve took his place at the altar.

Your mother, focused on the moment, spared no mind at you, her hushed reminder to keep your posture straight and your head forward as you took your seat beside her.

The urge to roll your eyes was strong, but you fought against it, instead clenching your fists tightly against your thighs and felt your jaw tense and your teeth grind together in frustration. A flicker of movement draws your attention. A woman sitting on the right far end at the fourth row lingering on the edge of your sight, compelling you to get a glance.

Father Steve gently echoes through the church, drawing your focus back to the front with swift precision. “As we gather here today, let us remember the grace and mercy of our Lord, who is our eternal Savior. With his love God watches over us, guiding and protecting us. We strive to lead by good deeds by following his teachings and commandments, we can trust him for his protection.”

“But let’s not forget we are human, mistakes are bound to happen. God will not judge for our mistakes and in his eyes there is always the opportunity for redemption. Through prayers we can seek forgiveness for our sins."

The final sigh of amen hangs in the air, marking the end of the prayer. You can sense your mother stares before she gets up along with the rest from the row. Your thoughts briefly drift to the encounter with the mysterious woman before refocusing. You got up and followed behind your parents, still you couldn’t keep your eyes forward as you searched for the woman.

Approaching the altar, the chalice tipped gently down as you savored the taste of bitterness on your tongue. You move for the next person, your head down fixed at the worn out tiles.

A sudden collision made you come back to reality. “I am so sorry.”

“No harm done, honey,” she chuckled softly, so husky yet smooth. “I’m Wanda.” She happily says and extends her hands for a greeting.

You gave your name and took her offer, your hands met in a firm grasp. Wanda was undeniable beauty, her cheekbones formed natural crowns on her face. The strange sensation from earlier startled within, however you pushed them aside and ignored it.

“Well I should be getting back to my parents.”

“Of course don’t let me keep you.”

Everything about her kept you wondering who she was. Her face was so recognizable, you pushed yourself to remember where you had last seen her.

With everyone getting their share, you navigated past the rows where your parents were engrossed in conversation near the doors. Your mother’s words echoed at the tip of your ears, reminding you how impolite It is to interrupt. So you lingered on the side, fidgeting with your hands as your gaze remained fixed on Wanda. You didn’t know how long you stood there before your mother called out your name, finally getting your attention on the third call.

“You’ve been out of it all day, pull yourself together now.”

“Yes, mother, I’m sorry,” you gritted out, feeling anger settle in you.

You squinted as you emerged out of the doors, stuffing your hands in your pockets as you jogged down the three steps. Families and friends crowded outside while you watched, your parents, well your mother couldn’t help but throw her sentimental joy at people's faces. With a sigh, you kicked a small pebble across the ground.

Just then, they’ve come to join you where you stood, thankful to be leaving. But as you all started towards the car, the small shriek of your mother’s voice halted both you and your father. You looked up seeing Wanda heading towards you, her presence alone twisting your insides.

Surprised, your mother’s eyes widened as fixed on the red head. “Wanda?" she exclaimed, her voice tinged with disbelief.

Shaking off the feeling, you reassured yourself that you were just being paranoid about Wanda. There’s no way you could forget a face like hers. It’d be ridiculous not to remember meeting a woman with such elegance. Wanda appeared as a flawless Barbie doll, ravishing with politeness and beauty. Her demeanor seemed almost too perfect to be real.

Wanda chuckled, her arm draping over your mother’s shoulder with a sharp but soft expression. “Surprised to see me?” She teased.

“You never told me when you were coming.”

With a casual shrug, she stepped back, her gaze briefly landing on you and your father before focusing elsewhere. You tapped your feet, swaying one of them back and forth by your heels. Something about her still didn't settle right with you. It seemed she knew your mother well, what a consequence. You observed your father and can tell he knew her as well.

“Well, you know me. I always enjoy making an entrance. Arrived yesterday morning and managed to snag a room at that quaint little motel. Your town is absolutely lovely.”

Your father greeted Wanda with a firm handshake before turning to you. "This is our daughter," he said, his hand gently patting your shoulder, urging you forward as though you were still a small child.

Wanda waved her hand, dismissing the encounter. “Oh, we already met in the church.” She gave you a little pat on your arm, leaving her hand there for a little second longer.

She winked and you felt goosebumps scatter through your body as you stood confused why this woman who you never met before besides a brief encounter was making you feel this way.

“How about you coming over for dinner tomorrow? We’d love to have you.”

Wanda nodded and clasped her hands together, a smile broke out on her lips. “I’ll be there.”

#wanda x y/n #mommy wanda #wanda maximoff #wanda x fem!reader #dark wanda x reader #wanda maximoff x reader #wanda maximoff smut #wanda x you #wanda maximilf #wanda x reader

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alaezasmystery235 · 3 days

Text

# ⃞ ♪ 𝑪𝒉𝒂𝒏𝒏𝒆𝒍𝒆𝒅 𝑴𝒆𝒔𝒔𝒂𝒈𝒆𝒔 𝑭𝒓𝒐𝒎 𝑻𝒉𝒆𝒎

⋆·˚ ----- messages from your future spouse / partner / twinflame .

⋆·˚ ----- piles are 1 -> 2 -> 3 , pick one or two but mostly look for the one which you find attracted to or your intuition telling you to.

⋆·˚ ----- Sooo long I'm releasing a PAC so your feedbacks would be appreciated and enjoy !!!

♡゙ : 𝒍𝒆𝒕'𝒔 𝒈𝒐 𝒔𝒉𝒂𝒍𝒍 𝒘𝒆 𓈒 🕯 ？

Pile 1

♡̵̼ Your quirks are my favorite. Plz don't hide them from me .

♡̵̼ Let me take you to places which are in your bucket list . I'm capable of fulfilling it.

♡̵̼ We have greater purpose to complete. I hope you are ready for that.

♡̵̼ Your soul remembers me. This is intense connection. You know in your heart that I'm yours.

♡̵̼ Your love for me guides me home .

Pile 2

♡̵̼ I am on my way ... I can't wait for the day I can finally call you mine.

♡̵̼ Your voice alone does things to me that makes me dizzy .

♡̵̼ Union is close .. we will be together . Trust that fate we have stored in for us .

♡̵̼ I wish that for once you will see the masterpiece you are .

♡̵̼ love doesn't always hurt let me show you that

Pile 3

♡̵̼ When I look in your eyes I see forever into it .

♡̵̼ Use me as your medicine. Let me heal you . Let my love be your tool to overcome your traumas .

♡̵̼ I have biggest crush on you . Just know I'll be obsessed with you m

♡̵̼ I would give up everything have just to see your face right now.

♡̵̼ You are the glow that lights up my life

#pick a pile #pick a card #pick a pile reading #pick a card reading #tarot readings #tarot reading #future spouse #channeled message #intuitive #tarot cards #tarot deck #general messages #free tarot reading #tarot community #love #relationship

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0cta9on · 3 days

Note

Sana and Miyeon fucking their boyfriend and they fight over him to make him choose her favorite girlfriend (full story please)

A Stroke of Luck

length: +3k words

Twice Sana x (G)-Idle Miyeon x Male Reader

(Author's Note: Sorry for taking so long!! First threesome piece, so I hope it's alright)

【☆】★【☆】★【☆】★【☆】★【☆】★【☆】★【☆】★【☆】★【☆】★【☆】★【☆】★

Sometimes you wonder just how you got so lucky. Since the day you were born, you were able to glide through life, getting anything you could ever want with a simple wave of your hand or a nod of your head. Perhaps your life of luxury can be attributed to your incredibly wealthy parents spoiling you the second you drew your first breath, or maybe your past life sacrificed themselves to save the universe and the higher power up there is finally giving you your recompense. Regardless, you revel in the fact that you have everything - and everyone - right at the tip of your fingers.

Frankly, you have a vague memory of how you met them - your memory always gets hazy when alcohol is involved. You were never too keen on clubbing, viewing it as a waste of money for a night you’ll never be able to remember, but it was a small price to pay to appease some potential business partners that your parents would eventually bleed dry before tossing to the curb. While trying to keep up appearances, the crowd parted at just the right moment, allowing you to gaze upon these goddesses for the first time, two Mona Lisas that made even the most beautiful supermodel comparable to a two-year-old’s crayon drawing. This is when your memory gets a bit blurry. A quick exchange of sultry alcohol-infused words, a brief yet lingering touch on the arm, and suddenly you had them both face down in some expensive hotel room, pounding away to high heaven. After a night of blissful sex, you would wake up alone with a note on the nightstand and one new message on your phone from an unknown number. Upon reading the note, only then did you realize just how truly lucky you are.

That night was a year ago. In fact, today marks the exact anniversary of that night - your first anniversary with your girlfriends. You have a whole schedule planned for later, which includes an expensive dinner for the three of you, a private fireworks show, and a steamy ending between the sheets as the cherry on top. As bizarre and outlandish as your situation is, you genuinely do love them and want to spoil them with a good time. Unfortunately (or rather, fortunately), one of them isn’t content with waiting around until dinner rolls by.

The sight of the cute Japanese woman crawling towards you in nothing but one of your white button-up shirts is a sight you would gladly get surgically implanted into your retinas. She tries to glare at you menacingly, but her round eyes and her bread-like cheeks only serve to make her look adorable.

“Sana, what are you doing?” You ask, amused.

“I’m a tiger stalking their prey. Rawr~” she teases, stifling a giggle. Any attempts at trying to watch the game on the TV prove futile once Sana starts rubbing your thighs, her hands tantalizingly close to your crotch.

“Miyeon is gonna be pissed if she finds out we’re fucking without her, you know?” You say as you run your hands lovingly through her silky hair.

“If she finds out.” Sana punctuates her statement with a kiss on your bulge. “Just don’t let her find out,” she giggles. Before you can object, her hands are already unzipping your pants and taking out your erect cock. Sana gazes at it affectionately, licking her lips as she strokes you slowly. Compared to Miyeon, she is much more vocal about her desires, begging and pouting until you finally give in to her demands (Not that you would ever say no to that face). Whether it’s a new handbag or your cock inside of her, Sana gets what she wants one way or another.

“You naughty girl,” you tease, caressing her cheek. “You really can’t wait until Miyeon gets home?”

“Mm-mm,” she mutters, shaking her head before taking your entire length into her mouth. The overwhelming sensation of her tongue lapping up your precum causes an involuntary groan to escape your throat. An entire year of this and not once does it ever get old. Life is fucking great, isn’t it?

Sana’s doe eyes scan your reaction as she worships your member, always so attentive, ensuring that you’re enjoying the experience as much as she is. She watches the way you squirm when she sucks on your balls or the way your breath hitches in your throat whenever her teeth gently graze against your skin. To the unknowing eye, Sana can easily be seen as a materialistic brat, but you know better than anyone how much she reciprocates your affection. It’s most evident in how hard she tries to take all of you in at once, struggling to the point of tears as she forces your cock down her throat.

“Fuck, Sana,” you moan. “Save some of that energy for later tonight.”

She struggles to catch her breath after another attempt at deepthroating you. Precum and saliva coat her mouth and chin, dripping down to her chest that’s barely hidden behind your white button-up shirt.

“I just can’t help myself when I’m with you. That beast between your legs is just sooooo enticing.” Sana hops into your lap, pressing her full body weight into you. You feel her panting breath tickle your nose while you stare at the many charming features of her face. How lucky you are to have such a beautiful woman in your life.

“Why are you smiling?” she teases, the sweet sound of her laugh brushing against your ears.

“I love you, Sana,” you state firmly. Her cheeks turn a bright shade of pink right before she hides her embarrassed expression in the crook of your neck, giggling delightfully. You’re so infatuated by her cuteness that you almost forget that she’s naked and sitting on your lap. Almost.

One by one, you unbutton her shirt, slowly revealing that body you love so much. Her full, perky breasts sit above her toned stomach which flows and ebbs into her petite waist. You run your hands along her familiar curves, painting her chest with kisses. Your body aches for her and hers for yours, clawing and gripping and kissing every inch of your beings, trying to absorb one another just to get closer than humanly possible.

Sana cups your face, eyes steeled with lustful determination. “I need you to fuck me. Fuck me so hard that Miyeon gets jealous. I want to be the only woman for you, even if it’s just for a little moment.”

Without another word, you stand up, carrying her by her ass and aligning your cock with her moist folds before staring deep into her eyes as you thrust yourself into her, watching her face morph into several shapes of desire as she adjusts to your size. Sana’s arms and legs wrap around your torso, desperately clinging onto you to try and take in every inch of your cock. You’re not sure how long she’s felt like this; you always considered her and Miyeon to be a package deal, never one without the other for too long. You love them both equally and always ensure that you never showed favorites. Maybe you slipped up recently, or maybe the two of them are fighting behind the scenes. Whatever it is, if Sana wants to feel like the only woman in your life, you’ll gladly grant her wish in a heartbeat.

“Sana… baby… I love you so much,” you pant into her ear.

“MMPH, yes! I love you too, baby! F-Fuck! You’re the only one that can satisfy me!” She mashes her lips into yours, forcing your tongues into a messy yet sensual dance. Her moans vibrate in your mouth, drowning out any kind of background noise other than the clapping of your hips against hers. Her sweet pussy takes you in so well, almost as if it was tailor-made just for you. However, your cock belongs to two women. One of those women happens to be unlocking the front door right at this moment.

“Hey guys, I’m bac- Hey!”

Much to Sana’s dismay, you momentarily pause your thrusts to glance at the source of the voice. The second love of your life, Miyeon, is standing right there with a large bouquet of flowers and an irritated pout on her lips.

“Hi princess,” you say to her, hoping to ease the tension. “What do you have there?”

“They’re from work,” she huffs, tossing the flowers onto the sofa before stomping towards you. “What are you doing?!”

You let out a sheepish laugh as you set Sana down to the ground, pulling out of her sweet embrace. Now two pairs of unhappy eyes are looking up at you. “W-well, you see, you know how Sana is-”

“How could you two have sex without me?!” Miyeon exclaims.

“Yah, don’t yell at him!” Sana interjects. “It’s not his fault he prefers my pussy over yours!”

“O-okay, I never said th-” You try to come in between them, but they both push you away with surprising synchronization.

“No, he doesn’t! You probably just threw yourself at him, you slut!”

Sana gasps. “Slut?! You’re just jealous that he likes me more than you!”

The two continue to bicker and argue, and you start to worry that things could get physical. Right as Sana lifts her hand, you step in between the two of them, shielding Miyeon from a potential slap.

“OKAY, let’s all calm down for a second, alright?” You gently grasp Sana’s wrist, putting it down by her side. “What is going on between you two? You guys are best friends, why are you fighting all of a sudden?”

The two fall silent, averting their teary eyes to the floor, standing there like bickering sisters. You never expected this kind of behavior from either of them, especially on the day of your anniversary.

“Look at me,” you command, lifting up both of their chins towards you. “I love the both of you and I don’t want to see you fighting. We’re going to stand here and talk until this all gets resolved, even if it takes all night.”

Seeing the serious look in your eyes, both of their expressions soften. Sana is the first to speak up.

“I see the way you treat Miyeon. Sometimes I feel like you like her more than me, and it makes me feel… jealous.”

Compared to Sana, Miyeon is on the quieter side, rarely demanding things from you or complaining about anything. In the beginning of your relationship, you assumed that she wasn’t into the idea of polygamy and only tagged along because of Sana. It took a while to understand her, but you eventually found out that Miyeon just doesn’t like asking for things and wants you to basically read her mind. Now, you can tell exactly what she’s thinking just from her body language, and Miyeon consequently became more affectionate towards you. Sana must have noticed the differences in the way you treat her and thought you were showing favoritism.

“Okay, yes, I treat Miyeon differently than I treat you, but that doesn’t mean I love her more than you, Sana,” you reassure her. “You girls have different personalities and both of you deserve a man that can love you the way you want to be loved. I’m sorry if it seems like I treat her better, but that’s really not the case, okay? Please don’t fight because I made a mistake.”

Sana and Miyeon look at each other with an apologetic expression before falling into a warm embrace.

“I’m sorry I fucked him without you,” Sana apologizes.

“I’m sorry I called you a slut.”

Sana pulls Miyeon into a deep and loving kiss. It starts out innocently enough, but eventually, the two begin moaning into each other’s mouths while their hands explore their bodies. You can’t help but stroke your cock at the sight of your two ladies making out in front of you. Miyeon notices your erection and whispers giddily into Sana’s ear, prompting a mischievous smile to grow on the Japanese woman’s lips.

“We’re so sorry about fighting, baby,” Sana says in a sultry tone.

“Yeah, we’ve been such naughty girls.” Miyeon looks at you with her siren eyes, drawing you in with a simple glance. “Maybe you should punish us, baby.”

Sana reaches out and grabs your rod, pulling you closer. “Yeah, punish us with your big, fat cock.”

With your heart pounding with excitement, you grab their wrists, pulling them towards the bedroom as the sounds of their giggles trail behind you. You throw them towards the bed, quickly freeing yourself from any clothing as they watch with anticipation. Miyeon bites her lip as she ogles your body, while Sana touches herself just thinking about all the things you’ll do to the both of them.

“Miyeon is a bit overdressed, don’t you think so, Sana?” You ask, smirking. Sana nods in agreement, pulling Miyeon into a heavy kiss while her hand snakes its way into her top. You get to work on Miyeon’s bottom half, kneeling in front of her and tugging at her skirt to reveal the damp spot on her panties. You pull Miyeon’s legs over your shoulder so her thighs sandwich your face and begin planting kisses all over her supple skin. Sana tosses Miyeon’s top and bra to the other side of the room before sucking on Miyeon’s perky tits. Her high-pitched princess moans fill the room, accompanied by the wet kissing sounds of you and Sana pleasuring her body.

“Ah, fuck! Yes, just like that!” Miyeon exclaims. You hungrily pull off her panties before diving into her heat, licking between her folds and flicking your tongue against her clit. Sana sits behind her, holding her spasming body while nibbling her ear.

“I bet you’re sooooo exhausted after work, aren’t you, princess?” Sana whispers into Miyeon’s ear. Miyeon nods amidst her whimpering, biting her lip at her girlfriend, begging for her to take her. Sana obliges, shoving her tongue into her mouth as you shove your tongue into Miyeon’s dripping pussy. It doesn’t take long for Miyeon to reach her first orgasm, squirting her nectar all over your face which you gladly lap up, not wasting a single drop. Her body shivers with pleasure, but you have only just begun.

Sana and Miyeon watch intently as you stand up and align your cock with Miyeon’s glistening heat. With a mischievous smirk, Sana moves aside, letting Miyeon lie on her back. Miyeon’s mouth forms an “O” as you insert your tip inside of her, and Sana seizes the chance by sitting on Miyeon’s face, grinding her hips into the Korean woman’s open mouth. Your bodies form a literal love triangle as Sana pulls your face towards her, catching your lips with hers as you thrust deeply into Miyeon. You imagined this to be the last thing you did on your anniversary night instead of the first thing, but you don’t mind doing things a bit out of order. As long as these two lovely ladies are happy, you’re happy.

“Isn’t Miyeon’s pussy so tight, baby?” Sana asks with a smirk on her face. You nod, becoming increasingly aroused by Sana’s dirty talk, quickening the pace of your thrusts. Miyeon’s muffled moans become significantly louder, causing Sana to cling onto your shoulders for support as she reaches her climax. Sana pulls your head into another kiss, moaning into her mouth as her body trembles from her orgasm. She eventually collapses to the side of the bed, allowing Miyeon to finally breathe.

The light reflects off of Sana’s nectar on Miyeon’s skin, giving her the appearance of a glimmering angel. You slow down the pace of your thrusts, bringing your face close to Miyeon’s ear.

“Mirror?” You ask simply. She nods excitedly, biting her lip with anticipation.

If there’s one thing you learned about Miyeon since dating her for the past year, it’s that she absolutely adores herself. If she suddenly turned quiet, it was because she was either staring at a mirror or taking selfies. Every time she sent you nudes, it was more so to show you just how beautiful is rather than solely for your benefit (Not that you minded, of course). On the nights the three of you felt particularly frisky and decided to film yourselves, Miyeon would always rewind her parts, going on about how sexy she looks when she’s about to cum or how pretty her own moans sound. You wouldn’t say she’s narcissistic; rather, she’s just confident in her looks, and she had every reason to be. Cho Miyeon is the perfect embodiment of a princess, and you love that about her.

You bend Miyeon over the vanity, making sure she has a good view of herself before you rail her from behind. She peers over her shoulder at you and winks, wiggling her ass playfully.

“What are you waiting for? Aren’t you gonna punish m- AH!”

You grip onto Miyeon’s slim waist and begin to pound her hot cunt with ease. The entire vanity shakes as she clings onto it for dear life, barely able to support herself as her legs become as stable as jelly. Despite the stage of disarray she’s in, Miyeon maintains eye contact with herself in the mirror, evidently turning her on more with how her pussy tightens around your cock.

“Cum for me, princess,” you whisper gruffly into her ear. “You look so pretty when you cum.”

“I do?” she asks, flashing her puppy dog eyes at you through the mirror. You nod, unable to speak a coherent word as the sensation begins to feel too much. Miyeon squeals with pleasure as her juices begin to leak down her legs and onto the floor. You hold her up in case her trembling legs give out on her as she rides out her orgasm.

“Good girl,” you reassure her, planting kisses all over her back. Once she calms down, you help her to the bed and lay her down gently next to Sana.

“That was so fucking hot, princess,” Sana says, giving Miyeon a small peck on the lips. Miyeon giggles, her eyes barely able to stay open. With Sana’s energy back and your cock still hard, she descends on you like a panther, pinning you to the bed.

“Miyeon’s tongue is nice, but I needdddd your fat fucking cock inside of me,” she smirks as she straddles your lap, guiding your tip inside of her pussy. Her eyes roll back inside of her head as she takes you little by little, before completely bottoming out inside of her. After a moment of adjusting, Sana begins to ride your cock, holding onto your chest for support. You squeeze and tug at her bouncing tits, eliciting cute little squeals from her. A still-tired Miyeon decides to join in the fun, pushing Sana down onto your cock with more force and teasing her clit.

“HOLY FUCK!” Sana squeals ecstatically.

“I bet you like being a little slut, huh?” Miyeon teases her. “You like being filled up by our boyfriend’s cock, don’t you?”

“FUCK! Yes, I love it so much!”

“You wanna be filled with his cum, right baby?” Miyeon smirks at you as she whispers into Sana’s ear. With how close you are, you have no choice but to follow along with her impromptu plan.

“Oh god, yes please fill me with your cum, baby!” Sana exclaims, eyeing you desperately. Miyeon’s hand trails up your chest as she leans in towards you.

“You heard her,” she says, slyly cupping your cheek. “Better give her what she wants.”

Without hesitation, you shoot your load straight into Sana’s womb. Sana’s second orgasm follows shortly after, your fluids mixing together inside of her. Out of an entire year of fucking these two wonderful girls, this is the hardest orgasm you have ever experienced.

Eventually, Sana collapses on top of you, gasping for breath, while Miyeon quickly laps up the fluids dripping from the Japanese woman’s legs. You can’t help but laugh at Sana’s post-orgasm shivering.

“H-holy… shit,” Sana says breathlessly. “That… was fucking amazing.”

Miyeon crawls up, laying her head on Sana’s chest. “Yeah, he’s pretty great, isn’t he?” The two girls giggle at each other, exchanging playful kisses and warm looks. You wrap your arm around the both of them, grateful that they’re not fighting anymore.

“How did I get so lucky to have the two of you in my life?” You ask, gazing at these two beauties lovingly. With a quick glance at the clock, you notice that you still have a couple hours until the dinner reservation. “Why don’t you two hop in the shower and get ready? I have something special planned for tonight.”

“You’re not gonna join us?” Miyeon asks.

“I would love to, princess, but I know for a fact that we’re not gonna make it to dinner if I join you in the shower,” you joke. Sana jolts up, grabbing Miyeon’s wrist.

“I am NOT missing out on dinner,” Sana states, dragging Miyeon into the bathroom with her. Right before they close the door behind them, they turn to you one last time.

“We love you!” They say in unison.

You lay back on the bed, smiling to yourself as you look up at the ceiling. How did you ever get so lucky?

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dilemmaontwolegs · 19 hours

Text

Not A Verstappen: Away We Go {2}

Pairing: Charles Leclerc x fem!driver!reader x Lando Norris Summary: It seems as if everything you ever dreamed of is just within your reach. You got the guys and the baby, the only thing left is the seat. Warnings: 18+ only, nsfw, smut, fluff WC: 3.3k F1 Masterlist NAV: Sibling Rivalry || One || Two || Three NAV: Gridlocked || One || Two || Three || Four || Five || Six || Seven || Eight || Nine NAV: A New World || One || Two || Three || Four || Five || Six || Seven || Eight || Nine || Ten NAV: Lights Out || One || Two || Three || Four || Five || Six || 6.5 || Seven || SMAU || Eight || Nine NAV: Away We Go || One || Two || Three

A giant raspberry sounded from the nursery, followed by a high pitch giggle and then two deeper laughs.

“Where do you think you are going?” Lando asked when Autumn rolled to her tummy and started to crawl away.

“Coming to papa, aren’t you, ma petite?”

Even with the door to the office closed you could hear their soft words as they played in Autumn’s room down the hall. It was hard to concentrate when you were torn between joining your family and completing the testing you were contracted for on the SIM but there were only 30 laps left of the session and the team needed the data. There may have only been three races left for the year but there were plenty of teams with vacant seats waiting to be filled. You understood negotiations took time and there were often conversations with multiple drivers being had at any one time but you were hopeful that at least one seat would be secured for you. The testing for Mercedes, Audi and Williams had been promising.

You finally shut down the SIM racer and left the office but found the nursery dark except for the moon and star mobile that softly glowed as it played a lullaby for Autumn who was fast asleep in her cot. Disappointment grated your resolution as you came to understand how Charles and Lando felt missing time with her when they went away for work, but you pushed it aside as you leant down and kissed her chubby cheek and whispered, “Sweet dreams, my love.”

Lando grinned when you found him in the kitchen making a drink and he instantly picked up on your mood. “Hi honey, how was work?”

You stuck your tongue out and stole the tea he had made as Charles joined you at the breakfast bar, the baby monitor placed in the middle. “When did she go to sleep?”

“About 10 minutes ago. We tried to keep her awake so she could sleep on the plane but she is like her daddy and loves her naps,” Charles said with a pointed look to Lando.

You rolled your tense shoulders after hours in the same position driving and moaned when Charles stood up and used his strong hands to massage them. “Fuck that feels good.”

“You know what else feels good?” Lando asked with a suggestive wink.

You tipped your head back to look up at Charles and found his eyes staring at your breasts with a hunger that could never be sated. “I have a few ideas…” he offered.

You checked your watch and calculated how long Autumn would likely nap for before letting your thoughts wander to the same place as theirs. A trail of clothes littered the hallway to the bedroom and you shoved the suitcases off the bed with little regard for the mess. Motherhood hadn’t diminished your sex drive like some people warned, but the time available was significantly less for said activities. So you made the most of the moments you could.

“Condoms,” you warned while you were still coherent enough to remember. The train of thought was quickly derailed when Lando caught you around the waist and tossed you across the blankets. In an instant he was there, nudging your thighs apart with his shoulders and burying his face between them.

Charles was more leisurely, taking his time and stroking his cock while he watched the two of you. His bottom lip swelled as he pinched it between his teeth until he needed to feel your bodies with the same urgency you felt the moment you saw either of them naked. His hands found your breasts that he had fallen more in love with and he delighted in the weight of them filling his palms. That wasn’t the only change to your body that he loved in the last seven months.

The effort put in with Kristian had paid off and you found breastfeeding absolutely burned through the calories, making it much easier than expected to return to a weight close to pre-pregnancy. He had helped you to get fit without compromising your body's ability to make milk but even toning your muscles couldn’t erase the stretch marks that littered your skin. You were no longer self-conscious of them, Charles and Lando had made sure of that months ago.

Charles’ kiss scorched your lips as he dominated your mouth, parting your lips with his tongue as you moaned against him. Your head fell back as you bared your throat for him, his teeth grazing your racing pulse as he kissed and nipped his way down your body. Your cunt tightened around Lando’s fingers as Charles’ tongue traced the silvery marks that forked like lightning across your hip. It was ticklish and torturous until Lando broke away to share the taste of you with Charles and you moaned at the sight.

“How are you feeling, mon amour?” Charles asked as you reached for them, stroking their hard lengths while their hands roamed your body.

“Impatient and greedy,” you answered with a needy whine when Lando purposefully missed your clit with his thumb.

“I think she wants us,” Lando teased while Charles reached for the box of condoms.

“It does appear that way,” he replied with a chuckle, rolling the latex sheath down his length. “But does she want us both at the same time?”

Your lips parted with a moan at the idea and their eyes darkened until you could hardly see any colour around their dilated pupils. “Please…”

Lando grabbed your hips and rolled, taking you with him until you ended up straddling his waist and he looked up happily. “Hello, beautiful. Do you come here often?”

“Not as much as I would like,” you giggled, but it turned to a moan as he lifted you over his cock and let you sink down on him.

“Putain,” Charles swore softly as he watched you rock your hips and ride Lando. Unable to resist joining in, he straddled Lando’s legs and lined himself up with your body, easing slowly inside as you froze. “Are you okay?”

You couldn’t put into words just how much more than okay you were but you managed to moan and nod.

“She’s good,” Lando confirmed with a strained laugh as he forced himself to stay still while you adjusted to having the both of them seated inside you. It took all his strength not to thrust up like he wanted to, but he didn’t want to hurt you. “Just take it slow, baby.”

Your muscles began to relax and your breathing returned to normal. The strain in your core eased and you slowly began to set the rhythm until the pleasure grew stronger and your body was ready. Moans filled the room and your nails dug into Lando’s chest as your walls fluttered as you fucked yourself against them. Charles reached around your body and cupped your breasts that grew heavy in his touch, his fingers pinching and rolling your nipples until they began to leak.

“Fuck,” Lando moaned at the mess they made of you. Your jaw hung slack and your eyes fluttered shut as your cunt tightened around him. Creamy milk ran in rivulets down your flesh and pooled on his abdomen and he grabbed your waist, tightening his grasp so he could fuck you harder. He could barely think, barely breathe when you drove him wild with the need to fill your cunt with his seed. Lando’s back arched off the bed, lifting you with his as he cried out with his release. His heart hammered in his chest beneath your palms and his cock pulsed inside you, filling the condom.

“God, that felt good, too good,” he chuckled as he swiped a thumb over your nipple and licked the drop of milk he collected. “Hmmm, so sweet.”

“They are very full,” you admitted somewhat shyly, having missed feeding Autumn before her nap.

“I can help you with that,” he offered with a smirk and your body gave you away as it clenched around their cocks.

—

Charles and Lando were still showering when you heard Autumn on the baby monitor. Rushing around the room, you gave up on drying off properly and tossed a robe around your damp body instead.

“Hello, my littlest love,” you greeted her happily. Light flooded the room as you opened the blockout blinds and found her standing inside her cot, her grabby hands reaching through for you. “I hope you had the sweetest dreams.”

Bright green eyes looked up as you reached down to pick her up and the smile she gave made your heart stutter. The twin dimples were set deep in her round cheeks and the pure joy on her face brightened your day. You still couldn’t believe how lucky you were to call her yours.

You boyfriends must have finished showering as a delicious scent wafted in from the kitchen and you quickly changed Autumn. “Shall we go see what papa is making for lunch?”

Charles was already placing a plastic bowl of fresh cut fruit beside the high chair but Autumn had no interest in that when she saw your plate of stroopwafels.

“Just like her mama,” Charles chuckled, placing a second plate down for Lando who emerged from the bedroom half dressed.

“Have you seen my shirt?”

“You’re going to have to narrow that down,” you commented after swallowing a mouthful of waffles.

“McLaren one.”

“That doesn’t exactly help, mon cher.”

He waved a hand dismissively before he spied the papaya coloured material in the living room. A corner of the sleeve peeked out from the soft play toys overflowing from the storage box and Lando dug it out with a laugh.

“See, she wants to join the papaya army,” he said as he sniffed it before pulling it on.

“Why don’t you get a clean one?”

Lando frowned and looked down to see if there were any marks. “It is clean.”

“Men, honestly,” you muttered to Autumn, only to notice she had stolen a stroopwafel while you weren’t looking. “Hey, that’s mine. You’re lucky you’re cute, missy.”

Charles joined you at the table and reached for one too but you smacked his hand out of the way. “Am I not cute too?” he asked with a pout.

You cradled his jaw and brushed a thumb over his pouting lip before giving him a kiss. “Baby, there’s many things I would call you before calling you cute. Handsome, sexy, love of my life-”

He cut you off with a kiss, his arm snaking around your body to pull you onto his lap. “Sorry, keep going, amour.”

You blinked twice as you tried to remember what you were doing but he was still distracting you with his lips on your neck. “I lost my train of thought now.”

“Cover your eyes, baby girl,” Lando gasped dramatically. “Papa is being naughty.”

“If papa wasn’t naughty she wouldn’t be here,” you pointed out with a smirk.

“Would having another be so bad?”

You practically jumped off Charles’ lap and wagged a finger at him when he shared a conspiratorial look with Lando.

“Not happening.” You closed your robe tighter to prove the point and crossed your arms over the thick material. “You two can keep it in your pants until those thoughts are looong gone.”

You left them to get dressed and returned in a pair of sweatpants and a stolen hoodie, the attempt to hide your body only making them laugh more. “You do realise I get turned on when you wear my clothes,” Lando pointed out as he tugged the cord, closing the hoodie around your face. With only your lips visible through the hole he stole a kiss and buried his hands in the back pocket on the sweatpants, squeezing your ass. “Forgive me yet, baby?”

“No,” you grumbled, but the way your body leaned into his contradicted the word.

Light burst back into your vision as Charles pulled the hood back and he tugged you out of Lando’s arms. “We have a flight to get ready for and 20 hours is a long time to have blue balls, mon cher.”

“I just wanted a cuddle,” Lando groaned. Charles gave him a look that said he clearly didn’t believe him and Lando turned away to free Autumn from the high chair. “Come on, princess, it’s just you and me against the world.”

–

The toddler earmuffs swamped Autumn’s head but they seemed to work as she slept soundly strapped to Lando’s chest in a front pack. It was way past her bedtime and it probably would have been best to return to the hotel and put her in the travel cot but you wanted to be with Lando and Charles for the race. Being back at the track where Lando crashed left all of you unsettled but he calmed down best with Autumn in his arms.

“This late night schedule is so messed up. There’s still four hours to go. What are we meant to do in the meantime?” Charles asked as he checked his phone again for the schedule of pre-race events.

“We could get married, well not legally get married, but nothing says we can’t have the ceremony,” Lando said as he pointed to the paddock chapel: Race to the Altar. “What do you say?”

“Romantic,” you chuckled, watching Charles as he dragged a hand down his face in dismay. “But it’s the thought that counts. Why not?”

“Wait, really?” Lando gaped, unsure if you were playing with him or serious.

You shrugged and looked at Charles. “We already have the baby and you guys already called me your wife.”

“She makes a good point,” he admitted, a smile growing as he looked at Lando. “So?”

Lando’s brows lifted and for a second he was lost for words. “I mean, yeah, let’s just go get married. Why not? Let’s fucking do this. You aren’t joking right?”

“You asked me,” you laughed. “Backing out already?”

“No, absolutely not. We are doing this,” he said with a nod. “But, uh, should we call anyone?”

Max was in the paddock, so was your mother and Lando’s father, but other than that most of your families hadn’t been able to make the trip.

“How about we do this on our own?” you suggested as you continued along the path towards the Chapel. “Maybe we can have a proper celebration during the break? We don’t even have rings.”

“They actually have themed rings, they are mini Pirelli’s,” Lando said as he showed his phone after a quick google search.

“Yikes, we are not getting the C5 - that just won’t last.”

“Aw, don’t like it soft, baby?”

“C1 all the way,” you said with a flirty wink, “go hard or go home.”

Charles laughed along with Lando. “How about full wets, no?”

“Now you’re talking. Maybe she can wear Wet and we can have Hard’s.”

“No, thank you. When we get home we can get proper rings made for us.”

The guys still debated getting the Pirelli themed rings in the meantime, until you threatened a quick divorce. It didn’t take much convincing for the minister to make a three way wedding but in Vegas that was probably one of the more sedate requests he had received.

“There are some suits in the changing room if you want,” he offered, jutting a thumb to the room behind him. “A dress too, ma’am.”

Lando looked down at his McLaren shirt and Charles did the same with his Ferrari. “If you are half as loyal to me as you are to your team then I am one lucky lady,” you chuckled before nodding to the minister. “We are fine as we are, thank you.”

“Okey dokey, then let’s get started. Do you have any vows prepared?” He took the silence as a no and clicked his tongue. “No matter, I have the basics. Just fill out these forms and I’ll take a copy of your ID.”

“This isn’t going to be legal though,” Charles confirmed with a frown.

“Not technically,” he said with a shrug, “but I can still fill out the paperwork and give you a copy for keepsake. Call it ‘the experience’.”

You liked the idea of having marriage certificates and you already knew where you were going to hang the framed copies in the bedroom. It was painful having to complete three forms though, one for your ‘marriage’ to Lando, one to Charles and then a third for Lando and Charles’ ‘marriage’ to each other.

“Repeat after me,” the minister said, reading the standard vows you had seen in every movie.

“I, Y/N L/N, take you both, Lando Norris and Charles Leclerc, to be my husbands, to have and to hold this day forward, for better, for worse, for richer, for poorer, in sickness and in health, to love and to cherish, till death us do part.” Your lip began to wobble as the ceremony began to feel real and it was no longer just a fun way to pass time. This is what you wanted, to have both of these men for eternity, and you couldn’t stop from adding, “And if I go first, just know that I will wait forever if I have to until we meet again because this life together will never be long enough. Now please say something funny before I really start crying.”

Lando choked a laugh and wiped his eyes. “I, Lando Norris, take you, Y/N L/N, to be my wife, and you, Charles Leclerc, to be my husband to have and to hold this day forward, for better, for worse, for richer, for poorer, in sickness and in health, to love and to cherish, till death us do part. I also promise to be your biggest fan and support you through every win and DNF life throws at us, and do your laundry.”

Your laugh cracked with a sob and you looked at Lando through watery vision before turning to Charles.

“I, Charles Leclerc, take you, Y/N L/N, to be my wife, and you, Lando Norris, to be my husband to have and to hold this day forward,” he sniffled and wiped away the tears that escaped before he could continue. “When we met we were rivals, threatened by each other's talent, but when we fell in love we were racers who respected one another. Today, I get to marry my best friends and I promise to always be there to help you achieve your dreams and help us grow together as our journey continues to eternity. And I promise to always put our family first…Ferrari a close second.”

“Forza Ferrari,” the minister murmured with a small supportive nod before he reached for the box of tissues under the dais he stood beside. He gave you a moment to dry your eyes before he smiled. “Then by the power vested in me by the State of Nevada, I now pronounce you, husband and wife, and husband.”

A stupid giddy laugh escaped and you didn’t bother waiting to hear the next part as you threw your arms around your husband’s and kissed them. It felt like you were floating away with the surrealness of the situation as you signed the documents and they were handed off to an assistant that just arrived. It had been less than half an hour since Lando had suggested it and then suddenly you were holding three laminated sheets of paper meticulously detailing a wedding as if it were legal.

“We need to get back to the hotel now,” you said as you held the documents close to your chest.

“Consummation time,” Lando winked.

“I won’t have my first time as a married woman be a quickie, thank you,” you tutted. “These are going straight in the safe before anyone sees them and it gets leaked. Max would probably kill us for not inviting him.”

“I’m glad you are included this time. Usually it’s only us getting death threats from him,” Charles teased before checking his phone. “We should have time to drop it off and get back before the media interviews begin.”

Click here for the final part.

#charles leclerc fanfic #lando norris fanfic #charles leclerc x reader #lando norris x reader #f1 fanfic #lando norris imagine #charles leclerc imagine #f1 x reader #f1 imagine #formula 1 fanfic #f1 x y/n

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i-am-hungry-24-7 · 3 days

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[Hey, how are you?] Simon Riley*F!Reader

Ten years ago, Simon lost you due to his mistake, and he meets you again after these years of regret.

Hurt and comfort, Happy Ending

“Are you married?”

He always be asked when others see the ring on his finger.

“No.” He answers while taking another sip of his wine, letting the person realize it’s a topic they don’t have the authority to dig in.

He still remembers the vow he chanted as he put the ring on your finger.

The memory is as clear as the day you left the house, and he never saw you again.

It’s his fault, you didn’t shed many tears when he yelled at you, saying that you will never be able to free him from his nightmares, who do you think you are? a fucking philanthropist?

He knew he screwed up everything the moment his taunt escape his mouth.

No, No. I didn’t mean to say that, I need you, I love you, please don’t leave me.

He watched you lower your head, trying in vain to hide your sadness, but your heart was already shattered into pieces, by him, the man who promised to protect you by any means.

I’m sorry.

The words stuck in his throat when he looked at you stepping out the threshold with your belongings.

Please stay.

The greedy wish was buried inside his heart when you stopped for a second. “Bye, Simon. Take care.” you whispered, and disappeared into the aisle.

Ten years, he’s still unable to move on.

He brainwashes himself repeatedly, she will have a better life without you.

Yet he still opens his phone every time he finishes his therapy sessions, looks at your number, and just stares at the screen for minutes.

His thumb lingers on the “call” button but never dares to press it.

Hey, are you doing alright? I’m sorry, I want you back. I went to therapy after that day. I’m not the same person caged in his past anymore.

I miss you so much.

but how selfish he is if he interrupts your life now? Such a nice person like you deserves someone to cherish you nicely, and treasure you with their whole heart.

That’s why he now stands afar from you, watching you behind the veil of autumn’s breeze.

You’re still stunning, time doesn’t deprive your beauty even a bit.

He gazes at you for a long while, and when you turn around and spot him, it’s obvious that you’re in shock and come to a halt.

The world keeps moving, but the time seems frozen between you two, as you both set eyes on each other and never dart.

You head towards him as he starts hesitating to take the first move.

“Hey.” You look at him with a shallow grin on your face.

“Hey.” He mumbles.

The silence fills the air, but no awkwardness, he’s just too indulged in your presence, which he has been dreaming of for years.

Sorry for that day. How are you doing now? Have you married? Have a partner?...

He has too many things he wants to ask, but his thoughts are like matted wool, until his eyes land on the ring on your finger.

“You’re marrie—“ He questions without a second thought, but the words get cut off instantly due to his realization.

because the ring is paired with the one on his finger right now.

It’s not until you chuckle that he’s back to reality.

“Yes, I’m married, about ten years ago? to an idiot man.”

“Why did you marry him? he’s a bloody dork.”

“Good question. or maybe that’s the reason why I married him.” Shrugging, you then meet his gaze with a smile “How about you? Are you married?”

“Yeah, ten years ago, to a woman that’s too precious for me, so I lost her.”

“If you meet her again, what do you want to tell her?”

“I’ve improved. I’ve reached for help and now I’m not the same man anymore.”

“Anything else you want to say?”

“I miss her every single day, and I hope I can have her in my arms again.”

“Well, I don’t know about her.” you step closer to him. “But I’m sure she will love to have some tea with you as her first compensation from you, what do you think?”

He blinks at the hand you reach out at him, and slowly, he takes it into his palms, that’s befitting to drive away the chill.

Your hand fits well in his, like it’s made for him to serve it with all his warmth, and he’s sure that he will never let go of it again.

“My pleasure.”

a/n: lemme give Simon a fucking punch/j

#cod imagine #ghost x reader #simon riley x you #simon riley x reader #cod x reader #simon riley imagine #cod x you #ghost x you #simon ghost riley x you #simon 'ghost' riley x reader #simon ghost riley x reader #simon ghost x reader

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vampiresbloodx · 3 days

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warnings(18+ ONLY): smut, sub!reader, Dom!Wanda, vaginal fingering, dirty talk, teasing, blow jobs (on strap), spitting, slight praise, more degradation, rough s/x, strap on use, all of it is consensual, petnames use (good girl, baby).

emo!gf!Wanda uses you however she pleases and you gladly let her.

The first time she got a taste of you, she was obsessed. No, that wasn't a joke. No one has ever seen her been like this before about anyone. You bring out a completely different side to her than not even her best friend could know about.

Wanda claimed she didn't like girls, she always told herself she wasn't a lesbian and denied any rumours surrounding that.

It wasn't that she was ashamed, she didn't give zero fucks about their opinions. Maybe a little. That's what she was known for, her no bullshit attitude, the resting bitch face, someone to not fuck with.

Then she met you.

The cute adorable nerd who's too shy for their own good.

Wanda wanted to have you all to herself, and she did.

No one was allowed to touch you, flirt with you, go as far as to ask you out.

She would kill them.

Only you'd have to stop her from even putting them in the hospital.

Even if you were left alone for a few hours, minutes, seconds, if someone tried to come at you, she would randomly pop up out of nowhere scaring the hell out of them.

But not you.

She liked that.

She really liked you.

What she liked most was making you come as many times as she wanted. How you squirm under her gaze and touch, just one look and you're begging on your knees, it drives her insane. She has to use you.

You gladly accept it. Because you know she likes you. That's all you wanted.

You've had a crush on her for as long as you can remember, and you weren't the type to crush on people easily. Sure, they'd come, but they would never last that long.

And yet with Wanda, you knew you'd do anything she asked. She was the prettiest girl you've ever met, you just wanted her attention, her everything.

Wanda knew that too.

And she used it to her advantage.

"aw, is my pretty baby already soaking wet?" She cooed, slipping her fingers inside of your tight hole, moaning when she feels your walls clench around her. "Fucking hell, I've never fucked anyone who's pussy was just dripping, begging to be touched."

You whined, bucking your hips into her but she forced them down, glaring at you.

"now, you know I'm gonna have my way with you, I'll let you come once I know you've behaved well, don't move" she demanded.

Your body shuddered, somehow you listened, you always did.

There were times where you liked being a brat, getting the worst out of her was fun, however, this time you really didn't want to mess around.

"good girl" she cooed gently, her voice sending a shiver down your spine, she didn't waste anytime, nor did she back down with starting slow and easy, practically splitting you open with her fingers hard enough that'll make you cry.

Wanda smiled wickedly, watching your every move and reaction, your mouth gaped open, your eyes never leaving hers, fuck, it drove her wild.

"aw, does someone wanna come?" She teased, slowing her movements. "Hmm, it seems this pretty pussy is ready for my cock, don't you think?" She said, loving the way your eyes widened, pupils dilated at the sound of that.

She pulled her pants down, releasing her long, lengthy strap that she kept hidden to surprise you. It was one of her favourites she brought online. A cute, pink dildo that reminded her of you.

It's just too precious.

"spit on it" she muttered, watching as you did as she ordered, once she was pleased enough, Wanda's hands came up to your head, you eagerly wrapped your mouth over her fake dick, she groaned.

"good girl, sucking my cock so well" she moaned. "God, you're my personal fucktoy, aren't you?, my flesh light, you like that, don't you?."

She heard you whimper, causing her to smirk.

"do a good enough job and maybe I'll reward you with something else."

#wanda x reader #wanda x you #wanda x y/n #emo!wanda #wanda maximoff x reader #wanda maximoff x you #wanda maximoff smut #stuff i wrote

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jarofstyles · 2 days

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Coconuts

idk where this came from tbh but I loved how It came out. 95% smut but I know y'all will never complain about that so :p

Check out our Patreon for early access and 160+ exclusive writings

WC-4.6k

Warnings- smut, teasing, slight public play If you squint, slight degradation, but lighter compared to our other stuff. Cute

-------

Y/N could feel his eyes on her as she walked back towards him on the beach, his sunglasses doing little to hide the stare down he was having with her body. She’d known that this bathing suit would probably make him a little handsy, but it had been vastly underestimated how much it would distract him. There was not a single word being absorbed around him and she sort of felt like prey as she made her way to the rented cabana, tummy rumbling with both nerves and anticipation.

“What’s this, darling?” He asked as she flipped her sandals off on the raised wooden platform to avoid the spread of sand the best she could. He’d beaten her out here to set up their towels and made sure the daybed was good to go, as Y/N couldn’t handle another full day in the sun and needed the coverage the cabana would offer. He was being a doting and sweet boyfriend and she’d been planning on making him crazy.

“Hm? Oh, I got us those drinks in the coconuts.” She hummed, handing him one. It was part of the charm, their vacation essential, but he didn’t give the drink a second look before placing it on the little side table offered with the package. A tingle ran up her spine as warm hands grabbed the back of her thighs, urging her to step between his spread thighs while his brows furrowed behind the tinted lenses.

“You know that’s not what m’talking about, love.” He winced slightly at the light as Y/N pushed the glasses up into his hair so she could see his mossy eyes, resting her hand on his warm shoulder before taking a sip from her drink. It was a coconut rum cream type of thing and she knew she was going to be wasted on these, but that was the point. Wasn’t it?

But she was playing coy, tilting her head to the side as she gave him a look. “What do you mean, then?” It was exciting to play games with him. To tease him. Harry was a passionate man with a lot of redeeming qualities, but he was the most fun to tease. To watch him narrow his eyes at her and think about how she was most definitely going to pay for it later. It spiked her adrenaline, heartbeat quickening as his hands moved over her ass and to her hips. His thumbs dug into the dips back there, a deep exhale leaving his mouth and washing over her bare belly, heat pooling between her thighs as he leaned forward to press a chaste kiss right above her belly button.

“This bathing suit. I didn’t see you pack it.” He let her off the hook for playing dumb, rubbing his circles into the dips as he watched the corner of her lip temple as if trying not to smile. “I would remember a little thing like this. Barely fuckin’ there, is it?” His eyes found the tied strings at the sides of her waist. That was dangerous and the entire point. It was a deep red, the smallest thing she’d ever worn in public, and tied behind her neck and at her hips with flimsy strings. It was made to taunt him, make him needier than ever, and a bit of payback from the tiny yellow shorts he loved to wear. He knew just how much she loved his thighs and exactly what it did to her to see them exposed. Knowing what she liked to do on his bare thigh, right over the tattooed tiger.

“Oh, this old thing?” She smiled as innocently as she could. “It’s something from a few years back. I think my chest has gotten bigger since I originally bought it, but that’s not a problem… is it?”

“Actually,” Harry breathed. “It is.” He was quick to pull her into his lap, a squeak leaving her as he gave her a dark look. “Because you know exactly what this was going to do t’me and how it was going to make me feel, and you put it on anyway. You, you can hide when that perfect cunt gets wet and sticky. But me?” He glanced around before pulling her further over his lap so she could feel the growing bulge in his own bathing suit. “Can’t do much without scarring the rest of the people at this beach. You’re causing problems on purpose.” The voice he used was hushed and deep, going straight to her core. Of course it was the goal to get in trouble, but his reaction had been better than she anticipated. He shifted her slightly on his lap, subtly moving her over his length under the guise of adjusting her. “How do you think this is supposed t’get fixed? Want me to go have a wank in the restroom?”

“Nuh-uh.” She grinned. “I told you. I want all of you this trip.” Leaning to the side to place her own drink down, he hissed at the movement of her over his growing prick. “You’re not wasting a drop of you. It’ll get fixed, but m’not gonna rush off the beach before I’ve had my drink.” She shrugged, taking her hand that had been cooled by said drink to hold the side of his neck. There was a lot more satisfaction than she could admit when she saw him shiver at the temperature change. “This is my payback for those stupid yellow shorts you wore yesterday.”

Harry knew she could be vengeful. This cat and mouse game that had been him pursuing her had bled into the relationship and he loved that she liked to tease- but he loved that she was seeking a punishment out of it. “You know what I did in return for that?” He clicked his tongue. “I took you to the dressing area and fingered you until you dripped down my fingers. Had to hold your loud fucking mouth quiet, but I took care of it.” It wasn’t doing much good to think of it, especially considering his current predicament of trying not to get painfully hard, but it was one of his favorite things they’d ever done. Making Y/N melt into a desperate, horny mess had been one of his favorite pleasures in life, but knowing she was too needy to wait had stroked his ego.

The roles reversed, though? He wasn’t too sure. It would be noticeable if she was on her knees in the dressing tents, not just looking like an innocent couple leaving more tents open by changing under the same curtain. Her chest was distracting. It was glistening from the aftermath of freshly applied suncream, her breasts on full display and hanging just the way he liked. This bathing suit was his personal heaven. Or hell. He hadn’t quite decided yet.

“So how are you going to take care of me?”

Y/N knew she had been a little cruel, sure, but she could still feel the slight ache from how he’d fucked her last night. She wanted it again, but harder. He’d been a little soft beforehand and she figured he’d make use out of a little motivation.

“Aw, my poor baby.” She cooed, stroking his jaw as it clenched. “Getting hard for me. Can’t help it when you see my tits, hm? Or is it all of it?” There was a moment she pretended to think while he glared at her. “Probably all. But I’m not extremely cruel, Harry. Just giving you a taste of your own medicine. You failed to mention that you made me wait 3 hours until you took care of me.” It felt longer. “So we’re going to sit on this beach for 2. I’m going to have my drink, read my book, enjoy the warm breeze, and you’re going to sit with me. Then we can go back to the villa and you can do as you please.” She hummed, placing a wet kiss to his forehead before standing up from his lap. A towel was tossed his way, which he failed to catch because he was trying to pull her back into his lap. “Use this to hide yourself.” The smugness she felt was unmatched as she grabbed her book and found her way to the other side of the daybed, laying on her back to start the hardest reading session of her life.

—--

Harry didn’t make it easy on her. Not that she thought he would, considering she knew both of their histories of being menaces when in the mood, but she hadn’t expected to be so heavily affected by simple touches.

His fingers drew circles over her exposed hip as he spooned her, pretending to read over her shoulder. Quiet breaths puffed over the side of her neck as he nuzzled into her, sponging kisses there like clockwork. It was chaste enough that she couldn’t really scold him for it, but that didn’t mean it didn’t make her throb between her legs. It was her fault, she was torturing her own self with drawn out foreplay. Y/N rarely ever made Harry wait for it- she was far too greedy- so she struggled with holding her guns as she felt his fingers move further down to the bottom of her stomach, thumbing over the top of the little bathing suit bottoms.

It was a miracle she’d survived that far, and despite it only being an hour and 42 minutes, she thinks that it was good enough.

Pushing her into the villa, Harry’s hands rushed to tug the strings off of the suit, starting with the bottoms. “You evil little thing.” He growled against her mouth, pressing her up against the door as the red fabric fell to the ground and his hand slipped between her thighs. “What was the point of that, hm? You like being bad, pissing me off?” Fingers slid between her swollen, soaked folds and coated his skin just the way he knew it would. “Tortured yourself too. Could have just told me you wanted me to fuck you again and we could have spent the day in here.”

Y/N whined as she felt a digit sink into her, leaning further back against the door as he moved it slowly in and out of her. His fingers were thicker than her own, longer, making it much easier for him to reach places she couldn’t when she pleasured herself. His hands had always been a weakness for her, knowing how skilled he was in using them to create both art and pleasure. Coaxing the perfect orgasms from her since he’d met her. “Y-You teased me first.” She huffed, eyes fluttering as his mouth sucked over a part of her jaw that he knew would make her weaken. “What did you expect?”

“I expected you to be a big girl and tell me what you wanted, rather than parade around in this slutty little bathing suit and make me wait two hours before I could do anything about it.” He grumbled, teeth scraping over skin making her whimper. “I expected you to keep me in bed and spread your gorgeous thighs for me and tell me that you’re the neediest little thing, and you want my cock. I would have done it in a heartbeat. Instead, you chose to be a fucking brat. Because if you wanted to work me up, if you wanted me to be frustrated? It worked.” His opposite hand came down on her bare ass, the slap resonating through the villa and sting making her gasp. “What was the end goal?”

His finger was joined by another, making her eyes flutter and her brain slow down a little bit. He knew what he was doing- he always did. “Just wanted you to feel… to feel like I did. You made me wait and…” Her voice trailed off as it bled into a moan, his fingers hooking just so to hit the spot she needed.

“And?” He asked expectantly. “And what, sweetheart. Because I recall taking care of you. Even soaking, no one could tell. But everyone would be able to see my dick if I didn’t have that towel. Is that what you wanted? Wanted everyone to see me?”

“No!” She hissed. “No it’s- It’s mine. I just wanted, I wanted you to feel what I felt.” Her head fell back against the door with a thump, spreading her legs a bit more. Harry knew exactly what he was doing, he knew exactly what to do to make her weak. His quickening fingers and his hand gripping the side of her ass, he was making her see that she was definitely going to pay for it. “You’ve been driving me crazy the whole vacation and I… fuck.” Her words trailed off, the feel of the heel of his hand tapping against her clit with his thrusts making her brain fuzzy.

“You think you haven’t been driving me insane this whole time?” He asked, tone incredulous. “Think I havent been losing my fucking mind watching you walk around in these little bathing suits and sundresses? Think I haven’t had to be mindful of what m’wearing or what we’re doing because all I want to do is bend you over and hike up those dresses or pull down those bottoms and sink right back where I belong?” His voice hissed against her ear as he kissed over the side of neck, the sloppy pecks making her breathing pick up. “Because I have been fucking insane, I’ve been trying to be decent and make sure m’not hogging you in bed and let you go to the beaches and to the shops and to dinner, but I’d be perfectly happy with you in here, with our view of the ocean and you warming my cock.”

Y/N could feel herself getting close. It was hard not to with how worked up she’d gotten trying to tease him, the way he was talking to her, how his fingers always managed to coax the orgasms out of her faster than anyone else- including herself- ever had. “I would have- I would have, I want that, please.” She begged, which Harry knew all too well what that tone of voice meant. She was deliciously close, the slick of her arousal dribbling down his hand and she was just right there-

And he stopped. Y/N whined, tears welling in her eyes as she looked at him in disbelief. He was so generous with her pleasure that she hadn’t been expecting that in the slightest.

“If you hadn’t been a brat, maybe I would have let you.” He took his fingers from her, bringing them up to his mouth and made a show of licking them clean. Running them over his tongue with a soft hum and making a show of it as she scowled. “Mmm, none of that, my angel. You’ll get what you want. Just be patient.” Without another word he lifted her up, making her squeal as she was carried across the place before being deposited in the bed. Seeing as he was shirtless still, it was quick work to get himself naked, shorts kicked off to the side as he crawled up the bed and found her mouth right away.

She could taste herself on his tongue as he kissed her deeply, fingers finding the knots behind her neck to undo the swimsuit. It was quick work to pull the cups down, exposing the soft chest he had been obsessed with since day one. Pulling away with wet lips, he looked down at her exposed breasts, pebbled nipples calling to him as he grabbed under her arms to pull her up on the bed and stayed right where he was. “You know how cruel it is to have these right in front of my face, unable to do a thing?” His hushed words made her nod. She did know, she knew exactly how much he loved her chest and just how crazy it would drive him. “I know you did, pet. You know how much I fucking love your body.” His fingers plucked both nipples, squeezing lightly to make her gasp.

“I’m sorry.” She whispered, feeling the heat throbbing even hotter as she looked at her. There was something in his eyes, the full lust, the desire and hunger that made her feel like the most desired person in the world. Like no one else could compare. Harry had the ability to make her feel as if she was the only one he’d ever had eyes for, the only one he ever would. She wanted to be his forever, hold on to this feeling and let it grow. “I’m sorry, I just wanted you.” Her whine was cute, he thought, but the apology didn’t cut it.

“I don’t think you are, my love. But you will be.” The man’s tongue brushed through the valley between her breasts, tasting the salt of her skin and the ocean air as it moved to the right one. He was getting her wet as he trailed down to her nipple, moving his fingers out of the way so he could do his job.

If you asked Harry if he was an ass or breast man, he’d tell you he was both- but he had a significant soft spot for Y/N’s chest. He’d been obsessed since the first time he saw her, but more so the first time she took her shirt off and let him suck on her. She was so sensitive, the little whimper she let out proving it as her fingers threaded into her hair and she pushed him further into the soft flesh. Hips moving while she tried to grind against his thigh feeling his lips pull more of her nipple into his mouth and sucked on the raised skin.

“Fuck me.” Y/N breathed, Harry’s thigh giving her a bit of mercy as he pressed it against her cunt. It limited how high she could move her hips, but he didn’t stop her from rubbing against him. His lips pulled and sucked, swirling his tongue over the nipple as he groaned against her breast. She could feel his cock against her thigh, feel it leaking over her skin and felt the desperation rising in her stomach to get him inside. She craved it just as much as he did, and had half a mind to demand him to make good on his promise of keeping him tucked inside of her so they could go again and again and again. It was an addiction, how his body made her feel. Desperate and needy, wet and achy, she had the best man to take care of her but he loved to fucking tease. “Inside me, please. I’ll be good, you can do it hard, I just need it. M’empty.”

Harry ignored her, pulling off of her right nipple and switching to her left. This time, though, he kept his eyes open and watched her face scrunch up with pleasure. It was able to be felt smeared all over his thigh as she ground herself against it, making a mess of him before he was even inside of her, but he loved it. Making her this desperate was his favorite thing to do and it wasn’t hard. His girl was sensitive and needy and he took pleasure in making her teary and begging for him. It was his payback.

Y/N mewled as his teeth scraped over the swollen nipple, hips jerking and hands tugging sharply at his hair which only spurred him on further. Sucking harder on the bud and making her keen out loud, hips bucking into the air before he finally released her. If he did too much he could probably make her finish from that, but that was something he wanted to try another day. His dick had been throbbing for hours now, and he wanted some relief.

“Lay on your stomach.” He ordered, watching her scramble to listen. He had gotten his point across and he knew it, a self satisfied smirk coming on his face as he pulled his briefs down and gave himself a few tugs. She laid down just as he said, her cheek to the pillow as she looked back at him with a soft pout on her lips. His sweet girl, desperate for his cock but trying to make it up to him now for being a tease. “Looks like you can listen. I’m so proud of you.” He crooned, kneeling on the bed and finding himself between her spread legs. “Ass up for me, darling girl. Let me see.”

She did as asked again, shuffling her knees so she was spread and tilted up for him. Her cunt was dripping and hot, empty and aching for him to fill her. Her plan had backfired significantly but at the end of the day, all she wanted was his cock. That’s been the goal this whole time. “Please. I need it, H.” She whispered, gripping the white sheets. “Give it to me. I can take it. M’sorry for teasing you.”

“I’m sure you are.” His hand spread her ass open, spitting over her hole and letting it drip down to her swollen clit where he took the tip of his cock and spread it all over her. “You know, I had a plan t’punish you even more, but.. Turns out, I’m fucking weak for this cunt.” He sighed, pushing the head into her and watching it stretch her a little bit. “I’m just as greedy for it. So m’gonna be nice to you and give you what you want, but I’ll remember this later.” His head pulled forward as he sunk deeper in, the hot channel making his brain go a bit fuzzy.

“Fuck, you’ve got perfect pussy, baby.” His tough exterior faded as his hips met her ass, exhaling sharply. “Can’t resist it. Make me a fucking mess every time.” The warm air flowed into their villa through the open door with the sea view, making him pause. Leaning down, he wrapped a hand around her throat and pulled her up to look at it, letting her shaky arms hold herself up as he began to thrust into her welcoming cunt. “Look at where I’ve brought you, baby. Beautiful views, but… This one will always be my favorite.” Lips brushed her ear as the sloppy sound of her soaked cunt being fucked by his prick filled the room. “Seeing you take my cock is my favorite thing. Most beautiful thing in the world, love that you let me own you like this.” His lips pressed against her cheek as she moaned. The firm grip around her throat had her fuzzy, this position making him feel so goddamn deep that she could barely breathe.

“I love it, I love you. Love your cock, love how you make me feel.” She babbled. “Just… Don’t pull out. Please.” Her begging seemed to spur him on, the slap of skin against skin getting louder while he fucked into her. The man was always greedy for her but his sexual frustration was showing, not at all going easy on her. It wasn’t mean, it wasn’t punishment, but pure lust. This was need, and Y/N was happy to be on the receiving end of it.

“M’not going to, baby. Promised you that you could have every drop.” He was nearly purring, breathing a bit heavy but more than satisfied as he fucked into her over and over again. “That’s a lot of love, but m’happy to hear it. Just want to make you happy, make you feel amazing. Don’t have to tease me to have my cock next time… just have to ask me in that pretty voice and give me those gorgeous eyes and I’ll give you anything you want.”

Y/N nodded even though his words sort of went through her. His slight adjustment to his position had him hitting the spot he needed to hit and she was making a fucking mess. She knew she was, hearing the wet sound increasing as he cursed under his breath. It was hard for her not to shudder as she gushed around him, feeling his balls tap against her clit as her watery eyes were forced to look out to the ocean. No words could leave her besides his name and a string of moans. His name was the only important thing, according to her brain.

“Got your cunt all sloppy for me… god, baby… I love you.” He moaned, feeling a little wrecked as he took a glance down to see himself covered in her. Wet and glistening from her how good he was giving it to her, it was another one of his favorite views. “Love my sweet girl and her sweet pussy, m’gonna give it to you over and over… fuck, you’re going to make me cum.” It was hard to keep holding on. Her skin was hot and he could feel he ragged breathing against his palm, her pulse thundering against his fingertips as he worked his prick into her weeping hole. “Never going to stop makin’ love to you, my perfect girl.”

Her orgasm surprised them both. He felt it come on as she whimpered his name, rippling against his cock and squeezing him hard as she shuddered underneath him. Her body fell forwards on the bed and he was done for, releasing her throat to fall on top of her and give a few more sloppy thrusts. A guttural groan left his throat as he buried his face into her neck, feeling his cock pulse and balls tighten as he unloaded inside of her. Keeping himself buried as promised, he ground himself as deep as he could and let it stay deep as his hips twitched, breathing heavy and hot against her skin. “Shit- god.” He croaked, pressing a sloppy stream of kisses from her neck to her cheek. “Fucks sake. Knew I wasn’t going to last a long time but, christ.” A drunken laugh left his throat as she hummed, turning her face with a pout.

“Kissy?” She whispered, lips puckering and effectively making his heart melt. He’d never say no to a kiss from her. It was an immediate wish granted, leaning closer to kiss her but making them both moan as the shift made his cock push further into her. He didn’t break away for a few moments though, pressing sticky pecks to her lips and sighing happily once she laid her cheek back on the pillow.

“Have a really hard time saying no t’you, sweetheart.” He admitted, keeping his face in her neck as he tried to recover.

“Good.” The girl’s voice was still a little shaky. “So you’ll go get me another coconut drink before we go again?”

“Again?” He laughed against her skin, biting down gently to make her yelp. “Fucking minx, my lovely little slut. Course she wants t’go again. I shouldn't have given you the benefit of the doubt. You’re my greedy girl.” Though no one would ever hear Harry complaining about that. His recovery time may need a bit of work if they were going to spend all day here though. “I’m gonna say yes, but only because I want you to lay here and keep my cum inside you.” The man was definitely catching her onto her neediness. “As hot as it is when it drips down your thigh, we don’t want to waste any. So lay here and be pretty for me while I go get you that silly little drink. M’not gonna go as easy next time.”

“Sounds perfect.” The giggle was music to his damn ears. “But don’t forget the cute little umbrella, kay? Need it to be part of the experience.”

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