#that was NOT a good idea - barely squeezed them in
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Made with Love
Charles Leclerc x amateur baker!Reader
Summary: in which Charles would rather risk the entire paddock getting food poisoning (again) than break your heart by telling you that your baking is horrible
You hum to yourself as you pull a tray of freshly baked cupcakes out of the oven. The sweet, chocolaty aroma fills Charles’ kitchen, making your mouth water.
This batch is sure to be perfect! You’ve been practicing your baking skills for months now, determined to get it just right.
Charles wanders into the kitchen, drawn by the scent. “Mmm, something smells good in here!”
He peers over your shoulder at the tray of cupcakes. They’re a bit misshapen, with cracked tops that deflated the second they were taken out of the oven. The frosting is glopped on unevenly.
To you, they look absolutely mouthwatering. To Charles, they look … well, he loves you too much to say.
“Try one!” You urge, holding out a cupcake. Charles flashes you a hesitant smile before taking it. He peels back the liner and takes a bite. His eyes widen and he forces himself to chew and swallow.
“Well? How is it?” You ask eagerly.
Charles clears his throat. “It’s, uh, it’s great. Your best batch yet,” he lies. In truth, it’s dry and dense, with a strange bitter aftertaste. But the delight on your face makes the fib worth it.
You throw your arms around him in a hug. “Yay! I can’t wait to share them with the team this weekend.”
Charles’ stomach drops. The thought of the entire paddock pretending to enjoy your baking makes him cringe internally. But he plasters on a smile. “What a nice idea! I’m sure they’ll love them.”
The two of you arrive at the circuit and you can barely contain your excitement as you carry a large container of cupcakes into the paddock. Charles trails behind you, backpack slung over one shoulder, his other arm wrapped around your waist. He presses a quick kiss to your temple before you flit off to distribute your baked goods.
You first approach Max Verstappen, holding out a cupcake with rainbow sprinkles. “Here Max, have one!”
Max eyes the treat dubiously but accepts it with a polite smile. “Thanks Y/N, that’s really nice of you.”
You beam and turn to Charles, missing the look of apprehension on Max’s face. Charles catches Max’s eye and draws a finger across his throat in warning. Max’s eyes widen but he nods in understanding. Charles won’t let anything ruin your mood today.
You make your way through the paddock, handing cupcakes to mechanics, engineers, PR reps, reporters, team principals, and drivers. Charles hovers behind you, keeping a watchful eye on each recipient.
Daniel Ricciardo visibly gags on his first bite when you turn away. Charles glares and shakes his head sharply. Daniel rearranges his face into a smile and gives a thumbs up.
Lando Norris takes an overly large bite and Charles has to pound on his back as he chokes it down.
Esteban Ocon discreetly spits his cupcake into a napkin when you’re not looking. Charles lunges forward and grabs his arm, squeezing tightly until Esteban wheezes out “Delicious!”
You remain blissfully unaware of the chaos that falls over the paddock in your wake, oblivious to Charles’ desperate interventions. All you see are your friends and acquaintances enjoying your baking.
When you finally offer a cupcake to Charles, he takes it and eats the whole thing without hesitation. Because even if it tastes like sugary sawdust, the delight on your face makes it the best treat in the world.
“Wasn’t that fun?” You gush to Charles afterwards. “I can’t wait to try out a new recipe soon!”
Charles just kisses your frosting-smudged nose and says, “I can’t wait either, mon amour.” As long as you’re happy, he’ll choke down all the questionable cupcakes you offer. Because your smile is the only thing that matters.
***
The paddock is bustling with activity as you and Charles arrive for the next race weekend, yet another batch of fresh baked goods in hand. You’re eager to share your latest creations — classic chocolate chunk cookies. You spent hours carefully following the recipe, determined to get them just right.
As you make your rounds distributing cookies, the reactions are the usual mix of forced smiles and discreet spitting. Charles trails behind you, glaring at anyone who doesn’t immediately rave about how delicious they are. The drivers and mechanics quickly catch on, showering you with praise and shooting Charles grateful looks when he turns you away.
You finally offer a cookie to Graham, a mechanic from the Mercedes team. He takes it hesitantly, eyeing Charles standing behind you. But Graham is new to the paddock and unaware of the baked goods situation.
He takes a bite and immediately grimaces. “Ugh, these taste terrible!” He blurts out.
You gasp, stumbling back as if struck. Tears well up in your eyes. Charles is at your side in an instant, pulling you into a comforting hug. Over your shoulder, he shoots Graham a look of absolute rage.
Graham realizes his mistake too late, shame washing over his face. “I-I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean ...” he stammers. But you’re already pulling away from Charles and rushing off, sobbing.
Charles turns on Graham, eyes blazing. “How could you? All she ever wants to do is make others happy!” Graham cowers before him, other mechanics backing away nervously.
“I’m sorry, I wasn’t thinking,” Graham says miserably.
“Sorry isn’t good enough,” Charles snarls. “You stay away from her, you hear me?” Graham nods shakily. Satisfied the message is received, Charles races after you.
He finds you behind the garage, face buried in your hands. “Oh mon ange,” Charles murmurs, wrapping you in his arms. “Don’t listen to him, your cookies are perfect.”
You cling to Charles, sniffling. “I just wanted to do something nice for everyone. But I’m so horrible at baking!”
Charles tilts your chin up. “You listen to me. You have the biggest, kindest heart. It doesn’t matter if the cookies are a little, er, overdone. What matters is you put love into making them. Don’t let someone like Graham get you down.”
You smile tremulously. “Have I told you lately that you’re the best boyfriend ever?”
Charles grins. “Hmm, I don’t mind hearing it again.” Laughing through your tears, you tell him again, punctuating it with a kiss.
After ensuring you’re okay, Charles seeks out Graham. “I trust you’ll be more considerate going forward?” Graham nods meekly. “Good. But just so we’re clear, if you upset her again, you’ll be out of this paddock for good.”
The next day, the news breaks that Graham has been dismissed from the Mercedes team for “attitude issues.” You feel a bit guilty, hoping your cookies didn’t cause him to lose his job. But Charles seems strangely satisfied, so you don’t dwell on it.
From then on, Charles redoubles his efforts to protect your feelings whenever you provide baked goods. The paddock falls in line, fawning over your overly salty pretzels and dry banana bread.
The brightness of your smile makes it all worth it to Charles. Because keeping that joy and kindness shining in you is what matters most to him.
***
You step out of Charles’ Ferrari, the engine purring as he puts it in park. Taking his hand, you smile excitedly — today is another fan meetup organized by the team, and you can’t wait to connect with Charles’ supporters again.
“Are you ready, mon cœur?” Charles asks, squeezing your hand gently. His green eyes crinkle at the corners as he looks at you adoringly.
“Absolutely!” You chirp, patting the large picnic basket hanging off your arm. “I made lots of treats to share today!”
Charles grins and leans in to kiss your forehead. “I’m sure they will love everything you made, as always.”
You beam, bolstered by his encouragement as you both make your way to the event. The meetup is being held in a local park, with tents and tables set up amongst the lush green grass and towering trees. You spot a long line of fans waiting eagerly for Charles’ arrival. Most are dressed in the familiar rosso corsa of Ferrari, holding posters and memorabilia for him to sign.
“Charles! Charles!” They chant excitedly when they see him. You hang back happily, letting him have his moment with his dedicated supporters. Charles takes selfies, signs autographs, and chats animatedly in Italian, French, and English. The fans are thrilled to interact with their racing idol.
After some time, Charles waves you over. “I would like you all to meet someone very special to me,” he announces, wrapping an arm around you. The fans erupt into cheers and applause. “This is Y/N, my love.”
You blush at the attention but manage to give a little wave. “Hi everyone! I’m so happy to be here today.”
Charles addresses the crowd again. “As some of you know, Y/N loves to bake and has brought some special treats to share with you all today.”
This is met with more enthusiastic cheers. Though none of them particularly enjoy your baked goods, the fans appreciate the effort and know Charles likes to reward them for humoring you.
You open up your large picnic basket, beaming with pride. “I made my favorite oatmeal raisin cookies, some lemon squares, and my famous rocky road fudge!”
The fans try not to visibly cringe, lining up politely with plates held out. You happily distribute your overly dry, burnt cookies and gooey, cloying fudge. The lemon squares are mushy and saccharine. But the fans accept it all with smiles and encouragement.
“Mmm, delicious!” One teenage girl forces out through a mouthful of your fudge.
An older man gives you a thumbs up as he chokes down a cookie, eyes watering. “So good!”
You beam, pleased that they enjoy your baking so much. As you chat with each person, you don’t notice Charles discreetly handing out autographed photos, caps, and other prized memorabilia to reward the fans for their efforts.
After you’ve handed out all your baked goods, Charles suggests a stroll through the park gardens. As you walk hand-in-hand admiring the flowers, he says softly, “You have such a big heart, Y/N. The way you care so much about connecting with the fans means the world to me.”
You squeeze his hand gratefully. “It’s the least I can do — they support you in everything, so I want to support them too.”
Charles stops and turns to you, his expression tender. “You are amazing, truly. I’m the luckiest man in the world.” He leans in and kisses you sweetly. Your heart flutters just like the first time your lips met.
When you return from your walk, the event is winding down. You say goodbye to the fans, who thank you profusely for the treats and making their day so special. You tell them you can’t wait to bake for them again soon!
After the last fan leaves, it’s just you and Charles. The late afternoon sun casts golden light on the empty picnic tables.
“Did you have fun, mon amour?” Charles asks, caressing your cheek.
“The best time!” You say enthusiastically. “I just love baking for your wonderful fans and seeing how it makes them smile.”
Charles’ eyes are full of love. He kisses the top of your head. “As long as it makes you happy, that’s all that matters to me.”
You snuggle into his chest happily. “Have I told you lately how much I love you?”
“I don’t think so,” Charles teases. “Why don’t you remind me again?”
You grin up at him. “I’ll tell you over dinner … I have a new donut recipe I want to try out.”
Charles fights down a grimace as he reminds himself that your love is more than worth suffering through another dreadful dessert. “I can’t wait!”
***
“Mate, you have to stop her before she poisons someone,” Max whispers urgently to Charles as you step out of the room.
Charles furrows his brow. “What are you talking about?”
“Your girlfriend. Her baking. It’s … it’s just terrible. I’m sorry, but it has to be said.”
Charles lets out a dismissive chuckle. “Oh come on, it’s not that bad.”
“Not that bad?” Max raises his eyebrows incredulously. “I chipped a tooth on her brownie last week!”
Charles rubs the back of his neck awkwardly as he avoids making eye contact.
“Look, I get that you don’t want to upset her,” Max continues, his voice lowering conspiratorially. “But we can’t keep lying and pretending it’s good! One of these days, someone is going to end up in the hospital.”
Charles sighs deeply, running a hand through his tousled hair. “What do you want me to do? If I tell her the truth, she’ll be devastated.”
You return to the room then, a bright smile on your face as you carry a plate of freshly baked apple tarts. “Who wants one?”
Max cringes almost imperceptibly while Charles shoots him a warning look. “They look great, ma belle!” He says with forced enthusiasm, taking one and bringing it to his lips.
The apple filling is gelatinous and tastes faintly of soap. Charles forces himself to swallow it with a strained smile. Max quickly declines when you offer him one.
Later that evening, Charles finds Max alone outside his apartment building. “I need your help,” he admits defeatedly.
Max looks at him expectantly.
“With Y/N’s baking … how do I get her to stop without completely crushing her?”
His friend contemplates this for a moment. “Well … you could try convincing her to take up a new hobby instead?”
Charles shakes his head. “I’ve suggested that before, but she’s dead set on baking. It’s her biggest passion.”
“Okay, then you’ll have to take a different approach.” Max strokes his chin thoughtfully. “What if … you told her a bunch of us were going vegan or something, so she couldn’t bake for us anymore?”
Charles raises an eyebrow at the suggestion, but then slowly nods. “You know, that could actually work …”
The next day, you eagerly bring a fresh batch of blueberry muffins to the paddock to share with everyone. Charles takes a deep breath before pulling you aside gently.
“Hey, can I talk to you about something?” He starts, trying to keep his expression neutral.
You blink up at him curiously. “Of course. What’s up?”
“Well …” He clears his throat. “I was talking to the guys and … Lewis has actually convinced a bunch of them to go vegan. Lando, Max …”
He lists off a dozen more names, watching as realization dawns on your face. Your shoulders slump slightly.
“Oh … I see.” You glance down at the muffins in your hands. “I guess that means I can’t really bake for them anymore.”
Charles feels a pang of guilt at the disappointment in your eyes. But then, your expression brightens again.
“I’ll just have to start baking vegan treats instead!” You declare happily. “This is so exciting, I’ve been wanting to experiment with more plant-based ingredients!”
Charles’s shoulders tense as the plan epically backfires. Of course you’d take this as an opportunity to bake even more.
Over the next few weeks, you gleefully embrace the vegan baking lifestyle. Charles has to smother his laughter when Max nearly chokes biting into one of your “chewy” vegan brownies. Lando spits out a mouthful of your gritty vegan chocolate cake when you’re not looking.
You, however, remain blissfully unaware of how dreadful your creations are. No matter how many hints Charles tries to drop, the problem only seems to be getting worse.
One evening, you set a plate of fresh-from-the-oven vegan peanut butter cookies on the coffee table, plopping down on the couch next to Charles with a proud grin.
“Try one!” You insist, picking a cookie up and holding it in front of his lips.
Charles hesitates for just a second too long. Your face falls and he scrambles to take a bite, barely suppressing a wince as he chews on what feels like a solid lump of chalk mixed with peanut shavings. He forces himself to swallow it down with an enthusiastic grin.
“Wow, these are incredible!” He lies through his teeth. “You’ve really outdone yourself this time.”
You perk up immediately, the dejected look vanishing. “You really think so? I tried a new recipe I found online.”
“Definitely a winner,” Charles affirms, trying his best to sound convincing. “We should bring some to the paddock for everyone to try.”
Your eyes light up at the suggestion and guilt twists in Charles’s gut. The last thing he wants is for the other drivers to have to suffer through these … confections. But he could never be the one to shatter your baking dreams.
The next day at the track, you eagerly pass around the plate of peanut butter hockey pucks to the drivers and crew. Charles discreetly pulls Max aside with a pained look.
“Please, I’m begging you …” he murmurs under his breath. “Just smile and nod, no matter how bad they are.”
Max grimaces as he takes an experimental bite of one of the cookies, his expression doing little to mask his revulsion. But he meets Charles’s pleading gaze and forces out a strangled, “Mmm … great!”
One by one, the others follow suit — fake smiles and strained praises as they choke down your baked atrocities. You remain obliviously pleased, unaware of their suffering.
Over the next few weeks, the vegan baking experiments only seem to get worse and worse. The paddock has become a silent circle of culinary martyrs — all sworn to an unspoken code to preserve your feelings at all costs.
You proudly present a tray of charcoal-colored muffins that leave the entire garage coughing from the plume of burnt flour. “Tried a new recipe for dark chocolate avocado muffins!” You explain brightly.
“Can’t wait to dig in,” Lando is close to crying, his eyes already watering.
Charles has to bite back a laugh as Max takes a heroic bite, barely managing to keep it together. He pats the Dutchman on the back firmly as the poor guy fights back a gag reflex.
“Two more words about her baking and you’ll be racing with three wheels next season,” he warns Carlos in a low mutter after witnessing the Spaniard nearly vomit up a slice of your “moist” vegan zucchini bread.
The sheer willpower it takes for the entire crew to maintain the facade is almost impressive. Technique and strategy meetings have now become immense displays of unspoken fortitude — everyone driven by the simple goal of not letting you catch on that your baked goods are, in fact, completely inedible.
Charles has started bringing backup protein bars and shakes to every race just to make sure nobody accidentally lapses into baked good-induced delirium.
He really has no idea how much longer this can possibly be sustained. But he also has no idea how to safely extract the situation without demolishing your passion and self-confidence in the process.
For now, his main objective is to ensure your bright smile and cheerfulness remain unchanged — no matter how many mouths he has to personally silence to make that happen.
At the end of the day, having you by his side, radiating that infectious joy and following your heart’s desire, is worth enduring all the subpar vegan muffins in the world.
He’ll take a bite of your latest abomination with an adoring grin, because that’s what partners who truly love each other do — they support each other through the good, the bad, and the burnt-to-a-crisp.
***
It’s the start of a new season, and Charles has been racking his brain for a solution to the ongoing baking saga. As much as he loves indulging your passion, the charade is becoming increasingly difficult to maintain. The entire paddock is at their wits’ end trying to choke down your vegan torture devices week after week.
That’s when he has an idea — one he hopes will be a win-win for everyone involved.
“Surprise!” He says with an excited grin, presenting you with the envelopes. “I got us signed up for this baking course. I thought it could be fun for us to take some classes together!”
You’re beaming as you throw your arms around his neck. “That’s such a thoughtful idea! I would love nothing more.”
Of course, Charles being Charles is hardly fully forthright about his motivations. “To be honest, I’m the one who really needs the help,” he fibs sheepishly. “We all know I’m a disaster in the kitchen. But with your talents guiding me, maybe there’s hope!”
Over the next few weeks, you and Charles diligently show up for your baking classes. The instructor walks you through fundamentals like properly measuring ingredients, controlling oven temperatures, and mastering technical skills. Slowly but surely, your creations start emerging looking (and smelling) better and better.
One evening, you return home with a fresh tray of beautifully baked chocolate chip cookies — the first delicacy you’ve felt confident enough to bake since the lessons. You present them to Charles with bated breath.
He takes one tentative bite, his eyes widening in surprise. These are actually ... edible! More than edible — they are legitimately delicious! The dough-to-chip ratio is perfect, the texture is chewy but not dry or crumbly. He quickly stuffs two more into his mouth with an appreciative moan.
“Ma belle … these are incredible!” He gasps out between bites.
You clap your hands over your mouth, eyes shining with glee. “Oh my gosh, you really think so? I was so nervous!”
“Are you kidding? I could eat this entire tray all by myself!”
The two of you dissolve into celebratory laughter and hugs, the sweet taste of success quite literally on your tongues.
“I think it’s time for the real taste test,” you declare one day, rolling up your sleeves as you start prepping an array of fresh baked goods. “We’re taking these bad boys to the paddock!”
The next race weekend, you stride in carrying bakery boxes of your fresh chocolate chip cookies as well as some decadent fudge brownies.
“Fresh out of the oven!” You announce proudly, setting them down with a bright grin. “Who’s hungry?”
For a long beat, nobody moves. The drivers exchange wary glances, their self-preservation instincts kicking in as they recall the many baking debacles of the past. Lando bravely reaches for a brownie first, his face scrunched up preemptively-
Only to blink in surprise as the rich, fudgy flavor hits his taste buds. His eyes widen comically as he takes another bite. “Bloody hell ... this is actually good!”
The words seem to shatter the suspended tension. Soon the entire paddock is swarming the trays, devouring the fresh baked goods with delight. Charles watches on in disbelief, his own taste buds experiencing flavors he didn’t even know were possible from your former creations.
He sees Max take a bite of one of the cookies, freezing in place as his eyes slip closed with an expression of pure bliss. When they open again, Charles is alarmed to see they’re glistening with unshed tears.
The Dutchman wordlessly holds up the cookie, gazing at Charles reverently as a lone tear trails down his cheek. Then, to everyone’s astonishment, he brings the baked good to his lips and takes another sensual bite, savoring it like it’s the first good thing he’s ever tasted.
From then on, it’s like a switch has been flipped. The paddock that once dreaded your baking now seemingly can’t get enough of it. Every race weekend, they await your fresh creations with unrestrained enthusiasm, like kids on a sugar bender.
Charles has lost count of how many times he’s caught drivers and crew sneaking off to wherever you’re prepping the latest batch, nostrils flaring as they try to scout out that heavenly aroma.
It’s gotten to the point where Max’s performance coach has had to implement strict rules about his treat consumption to prevent indulgences from derailing his season.
“Easy there, Max!” Rupert calls in a booming tone, swooping in to physically restrain the Dutchman as he makes a mad dash toward where you’re unpacking that week’s fresh delivery. “You know you have a limit on those.”
Max strains against his performance coach’s grip, eyes zeroing in on the platter of goodies being unloaded with unrestrained longing. “I don’t care, she brought triple chocolate cookie dough brownies this time! Let me go!”
Rupert grunts in exertion, struggling to keep his driver in check. “This is for your own good! Think of your diet!”
“That’s irrelevant!” Max practically snarls, pupils blown wide like an addict suffering from withdrawals. “Do you have any idea how long I waited to have real baked goods again?”
It’s a battle of wills and metabolism that quickly becomes a weekly sight. Charles can’t help but chuckle fondly as he watches Max and Rupert’s familiar tug-of-war happen like clockwork every Sunday.
As much as he’d love to intervene, he knows better than to come between Max and your heavenly baked creations. He’s just thrilled that this baking journey took such a delicious turn — both for your invigorated culinary passion and for the safety of everyone’s tastebuds.
Honestly, he’ll take the sight of a feverish Max drooling over freshly baked goods any day over having to choke down burnt muffins and brittle biscuits. This is the sweet upgrade everyone had been dreaming about.
The true recipe for happiness was sticking by each other’s side through all those halfbaked stumbles.
#f1 imagine#f1#f1 fic#f1 fanfic#f1 fanfiction#f1 x reader#f1 x you#charles leclerc#cl16#charles leclerc imagine#charles leclerc x reader#charles leclerc x you#charles leclerc fic#charles leclerc fluff#charles leclerc fanfic#charles leclerc blurb#f1 fluff#f1 blurb#f1 one shot#f1 x y/n#f1 drabble#f1 fandom#f1blr#f1 x female reader#charles leclerc x female reader#charles leclerc x y/n#scuderia ferrari#charles leclerc one shot#charles leclerc drabble
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Huii! The anon from earlier. Pregnant reader going to sleep all naked. It's on my mind. With Toji! Obviously. If I were Pregnant and had to go to sleep with clothes, I'd go crazy. Just a little idea on my mind.
18+ only content - mdni
tags: pregnant! fem reader + explicit smut
As your belly grew bigger and rounder changing its shape, a few habits of yours changed as well. Such as what you wore.
When night fell all your clothes were shed leaving you bare and naked to roam about the house, it felt freeing, and at first, you were a little self-conscious but after Toji showed you how much he loves your changing body you did it with a stride of confidence in your step.
Toji wouldn't pass up a moment to see his wife naked and pregnant walking around so anytime one of his co-workers asked if he wanted to stay late to hang out he told them no, he had better things to do and that's to come home and watch you in your natural state.
Sometimes he'd get back when you were already asleep with a book in your hand full of baby names, a few of them highlighted.
Tonight was one of those nights it seemed.
As soon as his clothes were in the laundry hamper Toji joined you under the covers, his arms coming to snake around your waist above your belly which he cradled with his large palms feeling his son kick.
Your skin felt so smooth and you must've taken a shower before getting in bed and you smelt like peaches, sweet and juicy.
He nuzzled into your neck as you melted in his arms, his hands came up to squeeze your breasts softly hearing you whine his name breathily as your ass ground against his growing erection until it throbbed against you hot and thick, pulsing with need.
"You're so pretty," Toji whispered in your ear before nipping the lobe gently with a chuckle feeling your soft flesh under his fingers as he lifted your leg up a bit to cup your pussy before playing with it.
Stroking his fingers over your lips gathering your wetness to rub at your clit slowly growing drunk on your sounds. "I like it when you go to bed naked." He told you with a smirk as you rolled to your back.
You propped yourself up on your elbows as you watched your husband move to kneel between your legs. "I think that's how I got pregnant, sleeping naked." You teased with a soft moan when he kissed your cunt slowly before tracing the contours of you with his tongue.
With your fingers buried in his hair, you tugged him closer trying to drown him in your pussy. "Right there! Oh! Toji!" Your voice was strained with lust as you lost yourself in the sensation of him suckling on your sensitive clit as two thick fingers slid inside you slowly.
He curled them as his tongue swirled over your bud over and over pushing you higher and higher until you were crying his name as your orgasm washed over you which in turn pressed your thighs tighter together with Toji's head between them earning a few grunts.
Even though you wanted him to stop there was a part of you that didn't want him to, it felt entirely too good for him to stop and Toji knew you well, but still, he pulled away to provide himself some relief.
With glassy eyes, you watched as he moved to kneel between your legs again to free his aching cock that bobbed from the sheer weight of it as he gave himself a few pumps as you put your arms up.
"I know baby, I'm right here." Toji cooed as he got into position letting you hook your legs around his waist the best you could feeling his head prod at your fluttering hole before he pushed in slowly letting you stretch around him as you clung to him with a soft whine.
Being pregnant you were left more senstive and bit more needy.
Which is something your husband ate up like a starved dog, he enjoyed it when you looked at him with soft doey eyes all but begging him to fuck you because you caught a whiff of his colnge or you saw his happy trail when his shirt lifted up. He is an attractive man.
Which is something you ate up.
Toji stared at you intently as one hand moved to cradle the back of your head to slot his mouth against yours eating your moan when he slid inside you slowly until he bottomed out with a grunt.
He was careful with his thrusts as his lips peppered your face in sweet kisses that left you breathless, tears pricked your eyes from being treated so gently like you were made of glass in a way.
You made sure to cling tighter to him when he buried his face into the crook of your neck hunching over more to be mindful of your belly as he felt the hazy pleasure wrap it's hand around his spine feeling your silken pussy hug him so tightly and wet it felt like he was in heaven.
#💌incoming#tw: pregnancy#I DID NOT KNOW HOW TO END THIS KDJFBRST#toji smut#jjk x reader#jjk smut#toji x reader#jujutsu kaisen smut#jjk x reader smut#toji x you#fushiguro toji x reader#toji fushiguro#jjk toji#toji x you smut#toji x reader smut#toji x yn smut#toji fushiguro x reader smut
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You'll be okay
Alexia Putellas x reader
Part 4 to that awkward smile
You struggle with your concussion recovery but Alexia's there to help you.
A short little one to finish up this series!
I Part 1 I Part 2 I Part 3 I
Masterlist
The morning after your concussion, you were woken up by the intense pounding in your head, just as bad as it was when you first went down on the pitch. The pain meds given to you by the physios had apparently worn off and now it was catching up with you. You instinctively had buried your face in your pillow as if it could make it all better, letting out a whiny sob that you had fought so hard to hold in. Your girlfriend was a light sleeper and was always even worse after a game day, that combined with your injury, had her barely sleeping at all that night, instantly awake as soon as you made a sound.
You didn’t notice her wake up until you felt her hand gently running up and down your back as you cried into your pillow. Of course the crying only increased your pain but at this point you couldn’t stop. “Amor, I’ve got you, okay? You’ll be alright.” Her voice was rough from sleep, normally something that would leave you instantly distracted from whatever was going on in your mind, but not able to overcome the pain you were currently feeling, causing you to cry even harder.
Alexia must have realized that your sudden increase in pain was due to your medication wearing off, as she quickly tried to get up to get you another dose, only being stopped by your tight grip on her t-shirt. “Don’t go, I need you.” It broke her heart to hear the way you cried for her, showing a side of you that she hadn’t seen for many years.
“I’m just going to get you some more pain meds, I’ll be right back, I promise. I really think it’ll help, okay?” You didn’t really respond, just lightening the hold you had on her shirt so that she could get up while you continued to sob hard in complete agony.
It felt like ages even though it couldn’t have been more than a few minutes until your girlfriend returned to your side, water bottle in one hand, medication bottle in the other. At this point you had only spiraled further, gasping for breath as you continued to make yourself feel worse and worse. Alexia knew you were struggling but had no idea how bad it was until she saw you now, somehow even more worked up than when she left you just a few minutes before. “Hey, hey, it’s me. You’re okay, you’re gonna be just fine.” She pulled you over so your head was laying on her lap, allowing her to run her fingers through your hair and try to calm you down. “See if you can take a deep breath for me, I’ve got you now.”
“I- I can’t-” You continued to gasp for breath, only freaking yourself out more and causing you to start shaking your head quickly, as if you could almost will it all to go away.
“Hey, don’t do that you’ll hurt yourself, amor. It’s okay, it’s okay, just look at me.” You finally opened your eyes, the first attempt you had made at calming down. “There you go, you’re doing so good. See if you can breathe with me.” The blonde held eye contact with you, taking exaggerated deep breaths in hopes that you would follow her. Her one hand remained on the side of your face, gently stroking it with her thumb, while her other hand laced her fingers with yours, letting you squeeze it as hard as you wanted to help cope with the pain.
After a few minutes, your breathing had slowed significantly, returning to quiet cries. The second you had slightly calmed, Alexia helped you sit up so you could take your meds, trying to get them in your system as soon as possible. She had never seen you so broken before, and it had left her unsure of just how to help you, especially as she watched you continue to cry, completely helpless. “How can I help you, amor?” Her voice was much softer than you had heard from her before, filled with uncertainty once again.
“Can you just hold me please and tell me it’ll be okay?” Your girlfriend immediately opened her arms to allow you to collapse into her chest as you still continued to cry, breaking her heart even further over your reaction.
“You’ll be okay, mi amor. Your head will start feeling better any minute now when your meds kick in. The doctors said, this is the worst of it, remember? It’ll only get better from here, and I’m not going anywhere, I’ve got you.” She rocked you slightly, just saying anything she could think of to make you feel better.
“It hurts, Ale.” You whimpered into her shoulder yet again as she held you tightly.
“I know, amor, I know. But it’ll get better, you’ll be okay. Let’s see if you can fall back asleep for a while, I think it’ll help.” You gave her a slight nod, but started to climb off her lap and back to your side of the bed, causing Alexia to scrunch up her eyebrows in confusion. “What are you-”
“Ale, I woke you up. I know you’d rather get up and make some breakfast instead of laying in bed all day, you don’t have to stay here with me.” She just shook her head at you, while she pulled you back into her arms.
“It’s okay baby, I couldn’t sleep anyways. You know I barely sleep after games, so do you really think I could sleep knowing you were concussed next to me?” You remained silent, unsure of if you believed her or if she was just being nice to take care of you, but of course she saw straight through your silence. “Sleep. I’ll keep you safe, I’ll be right here. If I fall asleep you can wake me up whenever you want, even if you don’t have a reason to.”
You finally allowed yourself to get comfortable once again in her arms, knowing there was no way she’d take no for an answer. As you fell back to sleep, you could’ve sworn you heard her mutter a “te amo” just before you drifted off.
Last one of this series! Would love to hear any feedback or requests for what you'd like to see next!
Masterlist
#barcelona femeni#woso imagines#barca femeni#fcb femini#woso one shot#woso#woso x reader#woso imagine#espwnt x reader#alexia putellas x reader#alexia putellas#alexia putellas imagine#alexia x reader#wosoreading24/7#wosoreadingalexia#espwnt#woso fanfics
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sumn about dionysus’s daughter and percy being obsessed w each other irks be in so kind of way, can i req something about it???
I would come back from death for you .｡*♡
— percy jackson x daughter of dionysus!reader
warnings: none, i think
a/n: ok, here comes my confession. I don't know if this is something that counts as "obsession" as such because there are different types of it. I wanted it to be a more tender or cute obsession. I don't know, maybe I'll explore more but with a darker side.
The emotion was devouring him from the inside out. He knew he would be leaving in a few days, and even though he'd rather fight Hades himself than give his life on a silver platter, Percy couldn't help struggle with the thought of not being in your arms again.
— I'll go with you — you said, even though you knew it wouldn't happen. — I don't mind dying with you if it's the only way to keep us together.
Really, he wouldn't mind too, but he knew he had to keep you safe. Dionysus would never forgive him if anything happened to you, and to be honest, neither would he. You'd stay; that was the right thing.
The best deal he could get for now was to be together as much as possible until the day came.
You didn't say it, but it had become an obsession for each other. barely at night could separate to go to your respective cabins, and of course, not counting those times when you or he would sneak away to spend more time together. Some campers watched, they knew what was going on but still turned a blind eye because who were they to judge? Besides, it suited them to maintain the discretion or Dionysus would truly be in a bad mood, as having Percy Jackson as a son-in-law was enough for him.
That night, you had already turned off the lights, only the moonlight accompanied you, and you let out a deep grunt that turned into a gasp when you heard a knock on your door, you squinted your eyes and then heard two more knocks, three in total.
Obviously it was Percy, and you quickly got up before anyone could see him in front of your cabin. As soon as you opened, he slipped in between the door and closed it by pressing his heel. When you smelled the worn sunscreen on the curve of his neck, you let out a sigh; it was as if during the time you hadn't been together, you had been slowly holding your breath, suffocating without him.
— I missed you — he murmured, squeezing your body a little tighter. He placed a kiss on your shoulder and leaned back to look at you.
— It's only been an hour since dinner, Pers — you said, and he smiled at the nickname taking your hand to walk with you towards your bed. in the end, you were the only one to sit on the edge of it because percy stayed watching your bedside things, fiddling with and looking at your makeup.
— I'm leaving tomorrow — he said, still with his back to you as he struggled to read the label of a lipgloss, the one that suited you so well and that he never feared smudging when he kissed you.
Your heart raced. —Tomorrow? But...
— Things have changed, Chiron told me — Sadness and anger evident in his voice. Percy wanted to set the world on fire with Leo's help just because he hadn't had a couple more days with you. Instead, he took your perfume in his hands and brought it to his nose to smell it. Trying to imprint it in his memory, at least, until he returned and could smell it from your own body where it mixed with thousands of other scents resulting in your characteristic one. The one that drove him crazy.
That idea made him laugh, in fact you were the daughter of the man who could made men crazy with a snap of his fingers, so Percy believed you had done something similar to him, the only difference was that he was happy with it. He would jump blindfolded out of the grand canyon for you if you asked him to.
After a minute, he understood that your silence wasn't exactly a good thing, and he ran his fingers over the other beauty items on your wooden dresser, before turning towards you putting his weight on the dresser.
— Everything will be fine — he was convinced, but the tears threatening to fall from your eyes brought him to his knees before you, so quickly that you held back a sob seeing him on the floor raising his hands to caress your cheeks as if you were something religious that he was worshiping. Her turquoise eyes shone in the moonlight with empathy and they let you know that you had never felt that kind of religious love for which you would die until you had him.
Ugh, you were so in love with each other that it was ruthless to separate you even for just a little while.
You bent down to kiss him, and he stretched his neck to reach your lips desperately, without wanting to lose any piece of you.
—It will take much more than death to keep me from coming back to you— he whispered inches away from your lips, and you smiled because you knew he was serious about that.
With time on your shoulders, you settled on the bed, and he cuddled with you until you fell asleep while he stroked your hair and kissed you on the cheek; you had never felt so safe in someone's arms.
And it was in the morning, just after their last kiss, that your body began to ache for him and his absence. You returned to your cabin, cranky and teary-eyed, looking at the mess he had left on your dresser last night and smiled, recognizing your boyfriend's quirks, but little did you know that all Percy was doing was looking for things he could carry with him during his quest. Things that were yours and reminded him of what he had to fight for.
—Nice hair claw, Percy— Piper joked with a pink spark in her eyes, and he smiled proudly.
Leo dramatically put his hand on his chest and sighed loudly. — Better no one get in HIS – our – way because someone's waiting for him.
“Yeah, better not” he thought.
#maría's shared dreams☆｡ﾟ✧#percy jackson x you#percy jackson#percy jackson x reader#percy pjo#percy jackson and the heroes of olympus#pjo hoo toa#heroes of olympus#hoo x reader#pjo x reader#percy jackson x y/n#percy jackson blurb#percy jackson fic#percy jackson fluff
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The Exhibit
[tasm!Peter Parker x fem!Reader]
Warnings: use of pet names such as Daddy/Princess/Babygirl, BDSM in the form of dom/sub, bondage/spanking/blindfolds/nipple clamps/a bit of masochism, anal play, exhibitionism/voyeurism
WC: 8K
A/N: This was an anon request for window smut off of this prompt list but tumblr said a big no no to (what I'm assuming) was one of the gifs I used for the graphic and hid the post so I had to delete it. I'm reposting it again minus the very bad so naughty terrible gif I used. Porn bots can run free and terrorize the tags with their tits and wide open pussy on display but how dare a smut writer use a tastefully erotic, black and white, gif of a blurry couple making sweet, sweet love against a far away window. So naughty. Such a bad girl.
The elevator chimed with a pleasant musical melody as the doors slid open to their floor. There were only four rooms in this hallway. Behind each door held a luxury suit overlooking the busy streets of Florence.
Peter had gone all out for their honeymoon.
They’d spent the last week in Sardinia, making love on the beaches, drinking wine, making love on sailboats, drinking more wine, making love in their hotel room in the early morning with the windows open to enjoy the breeze…more wine…more sex…
They were struggling to keep their hands off of each other. Even now, as Peter guided her towards their room, his hand was slipped under her vibrantly red sundress and fingering the elastic waist of her cotton underwear.
They left the beaches of Sardinia to come to Florence specifically to see the art but she wondered if they would ever actually make it out of their room with the way Peter’s hands teased her. She was surprised that he wasn’t sick of her yet. Seven straight days of love making and he was still as rowdy as ever.
He let her admire the suite, watching her as he leaned against the wall, more interested in eying her legs in that dress than the luxury accommodations he had provided for them.
“Peter,” she whispered, eyes wide as she took it all in. “This is gorgeous.”
Their beachside Sardina resort had a more airy and cool feel whereas this room screamed of sophistication and class. She knew Peter had been working like crazy leading up to their wedding but she had no idea this was why.
“Like it?” He asked with an arrogant smirk toying at his lips. “A room fit for a queen.”
She dropped her bag beside the bed and kicked off her shoes, flopping backwards onto the bed to stare up at the arched ceiling with thick, exposed wooden beams. Even the ceiling was stunning.
She felt the bed sink as Peter crawled on top of her.
His white, loose button up had the first few buttons undone so his athletic chest peeked through. She loved the sight of his chest hair being exposed. He looked so relaxed, laid back, and blissful with life. Filled with wine, good food, and love. The perfect blend of medicine for him to simply shine.
He placed a soft kiss against her lips, humming appreciatively, “You look sleepy, babe. Why don’t you take a nap while I unpack our things. I’ll be quiet as a mouse.”
A nap sounded wonderful after traveling between hotels. She rolled onto her side. It was warm enough that she didn’t need to snuggle under the covers. Peter ran his hands up her bare leg and slipped under her sundress to take one last squeeze of her ass before she slept.
She awoke to light kisses tickling her stomach. Peter was laid over her legs, her dress rolled up under her breasts so he could let his lips roam over her belly.
She stretched, a sleepy smile growing on her face, as she peered down at him.
“What time is it?” She mumbled through the lingering sleep.
“Time to wake up and play,” he said. He blew a raspberry on her belly with his mouth, making her laugh. “It’s about 4 in the afternoon. You slept all morning. I missed you too much to let you keep sleeping. Wake up and play with me. I’m bored.”
He had his shirt completely unbuttoned and was stripped down to his boxers to get more comfortable while he lounged around waiting for her.
Judging by the state of his hair, he looked like he might have gotten in an hour or so of sleep, too.
“Alright, alright,” she giggled. “I’m up. Let me go freshen up and then we can go explore the city.”
Peter pulled her up to her feet and gave her a quick spank as she walked off into the bathroom. That man always needed to have a hand on her ass in some way.
By the time she came back out, she was surprised to see that he had yet to get dressed and had actually lost an item of clothing.
His shirt was now thrown onto the bed, cast aside without a care.
“Underwear is a bold choice to go walking around Italy in but I admire your confidence,” she said with a teasing smile.
Peter didn’t smile back. He had a look in eyes. A look that she knew very well.
It wasn’t the “making love” look.
It wasn’t the “quickie” look.
It was dark, ravenous, and screaming of dominance.
He had yet to give her that look on their honeymoon. So far, he'd been more playful and loving. This evening, he had other plans.
They were not leaving this hotel room any time soon.
A shiver of excitement shook off whatever sleep might have still been clinging to her mind.
She blinked and he was pouncing on top of her.
Her back hit the wall but his hand slipped protectively behind her head before it slammed, instead, falling into the cushion of his palm.
Her breath exhaled from her lips at the force but, before she could catch it, he was attacking her lips with hungry, demanding kisses. His tongue pushed possessively into her mouth at the same time he slid a hand over her breast to fondle her over her dress.
Taking what was his.
“‘Can’t stand the sight of you in this dress.”
He moaned into her open mouth.
“Makes me want to rip it straight off your body.”
He grabbed at her breasts, aggressive and horny, rutting his hips against her.
“Do you know how hard it was not to fuck you while you slept?”
Her hair was being violently pulled, head crashing against the wall, her mouth falling open into a cry.
“Laying there, all innocent, legs spread open and begging for me to touch them.”
He clawed down her bare legs. Nails dragged against her skin. Feeling like she was getting attacked by a raging bear with the force of power behind each of his movements.
“Teasing me even in your sleep. A foxy, little minx, aren’t you?”
She shuddered, lowering her voice to a whisper, ready to play along, “I picked this dress just for you. I knew what it would do to you.”
He grabbed her wrists, slamming them above her head against the wall, and holding them in place. He let out a groan, grinding his stiff cock into her thigh.
“Daddy knew his babygirl was a little tease.”
A trickle of wetness soaked into her panties at the use of her favorite pet name for himself.
What had started out as a joke early in their relationship, quickly became a genuine kink to turn them on.
With that name on his lips, she could guess what kind of torture was held in store for her. It was going to be a dizzying whirlwind of fast, hard pleasure.
Peter’s voice lowered to a near growl.
“Pretty, little thing like you shouldn’t be traipsing around in a dress like that. You don’t know who might snatch you up.”
With both her wrists bound tightly in his one hand, he lifted her off the ground, dragging her up the wall, blatantly showing off his inhuman strength so she knew exactly what he could do to her if he wanted.
To him, she weighed nothing. This was a man who had stopped moving trucks with his bare hands and thrown cars around like a kid with a ball.
He let go and she dropped the few inches back to her feet with a surprised yelp.
“You’re lucky you have me to protect you. Daddy won’t let anything bad happen to his little princess, will he?”
She was shoved straight back against the wall, getting off on the feeling of being handled so roughly.
He nipped at her ear lobe, sucking it into mouth the sounds of her tumbling whimpers.
“Do you like to show off when you wear dresses like this? Do you like having men look at you? Do you like that they imaging fucking you when you walk by?”
“I only want you to fuck me. Only you,” she whined, trying to free her hands from the hold he had on her.
“Of course I’m the only who will ever fuck you, princess.”
He tugged her hand back down to flash her newly placed wedding ring in front of her face.
“That right there means that my cock is the only one that will ever split you open again. But that doesn’t mean others can’t look. People have eyes. They can see what I’ve got hanging off my arm.”
He brushed her hair away from her neck so he could lean down to graze his lips along her pulse points, murmuring against her heated skin as he continued to taunt her with his words.
“How do you expect anyone to keep their thoughts pure when you’re walking around in this?” He pulled at the bottom of her sundress. “You’re putting on a show for them, babygirl.”
“I didn’t mean to,” she cried. “It's hot out! I wanted to stay cool.”
Strong arms twisted her around so she was facing the wall, cheek shoved against the rough wallpaper. The force knocked the air from her lungs.
He bent both her arms behind her back and a strong, sticky substance shot out to bind them in place. She knew the feel of those webs well and a smile danced on her lips.
She loved being bound.
The pressure of being restrained was like a tiny slice of heaven.
“Daddy doesn’t like it when you show off, princess.”
He flipped up the back of her dress to palm at her rounded cheek, giving it a harsh slap to the sounds of her delicious yelp.
“Do you look at other men, too, when they’re looking at you? Do you imagine yourself with them?”
She gasped in horror at the thought, “Of course not! I would never!”
No other man could ever compare to her husband. Not even in the game they were playing. There was always only Peter.
He hummed like he disapproved of her answer, “Well…just to be certain...I think we need to make sure you can’t let those eyes wander.”
Something smooth slipped over her eyes, leaving her in the darkness, while he tied the blindfold tightly behind her head.
Leather.
She smelled leather.
She couldn’t remember them ever owning a leather blindfold before. It must have been something Peter picked up when they arrived here but she couldn’t recall a time when he left her sight.
She liked how heavy it felt against her eyelids. There was no way she could peek through this one.
“There,” he whispered. “Perfect. Blind to my advances. Lost in the dark. Never knowing when or where I will touch.”
He gripped her hips and spun her back around to face him.
A wave of dizziness over took her and she swayed on unsteady, bare feet.
“Careful, babe,” he whispered with a tenderness to his voice, breaking his haughty charade, and reaching out a hand to steady her. “I got you.”
Peter teased a finger under her chin, leaning down, to kiss her again. Soft and gentle, filled with the love and joy only a newly married man on his honeymoon could give.
A coil of tension spread throughout her stomach as she melted into him.
Her mouth opened to willingly accept his tongue past her worshiped lips to kiss him with all the passion she could muster with her hands bound behind her.
Peter’s own hands couldn’t stay still for long before they began to wander.
He squeezed her breasts through her dress, molding them to his palm, and rutting his hips into her.
She moaned, long and drawn out, leaning her head back against the wall so he could attach his lips to her neck. He sucked on her pulse points like a vampire draining blood and she wished he had fangs so she could feel the sting of pain as he sank into her flesh.
And then he was gone.
She stumbled forward, nearly losing her footing without him to push against.
Her head whipped around in the dark to try and find him through sound.
It was useless.
He was as silent as a spider.
“Look at the sight of you,” he chuckled, his voice dark and deep, dripping with desire. From the sound of his voice, he was across the room near the window.
“You have no idea what you look like right now, do you? Don’t fret, I’ll describe it for you.
He was moving. Pacing back and forth down the length of the room against the far wall.
“The strap of your dress is halfway down your arm. The nipple of your left tit keeps poking over the fabric, desperate to be sucked upon. Your hair is already a damn mess and I’ve barely touched it. Your mouth keeps parting like it’s just waiting for a cock to fill it up. A horny little thing, aren’t you?”
“Mmm,” she moaned, only getting more turned by his descriptions. “Peter. Come back. Touch me.”
“That’s not my name, princess,” he shot back.
His voice sounded different now, like he was up on the ceiling.
“Daddy,” she begged, craning her blind head upwards toward the sound. “Touch me, Daddy.”
He gave a quiet laugh, “Come get me then.”
He was back on the floor. In a different corner by the bed. Jumping around the room. Silent. With only his voice to guide her.
She took an unsteady step forward, blindfolded with her hands bound behind her. She didn’t know this hotel room very well. He knew that.
Which was why he kept moving. Teasing her. Making her work for his love.
She kept inching ahead, little by little.
“Tick tock, princess. Daddy doesn’t have all day.”
Behind her.
She gasped, whirling around, stumbling back the way she came only to find nothing but air.
With another step, her body bounced against the wall he had pinned her to and she staggered backwards.
She tried to spin back to the way she started but was getting all turned around.
He laughed at her pitiful efforts.
In front of her again.
Near the windows.
Or maybe the beds?
Was he at the door?
She was spinning in circles. Getting disoriented.
This wasn’t a fair game and she was getting frustrated. Her foot stomped angrily against the rug with a grumpy whine to accompany it.
“Is my poor princess getting dizzy?”
She had half the thought to plop herself onto the floor and stay there until he came to her.
But she didn’t want to lose the game.
She was too stubborn to give up.
“Watch out,” he warned. Still by the window. At least…she thought that was the direction she was facing. “If you move any more, you’ll run straight into the side of a table. Wouldn’t want my baby girl to get hurt.”
The table. She remembered where that was in the room.
He was by the windows. He was close.
Excitement tumbled around in her stomach as she tasted her nearing victory.
She shuffled to the left, feeling the table at her hip, and kept going towards the last place she heard his voice.
Blind and bound until she heard his soft breaths directly in front of her, thankful that he hadn’t moved again.
“Good girl, you made it,” he whispered. A soft kiss was placed on her lips as a prize. “As a special reward, Daddy’s going to take your dress off, okay, baby? He’ll be really gentle even though he wants to rip it to shreds.”
She felt him snake an arm around her waist to rip through the webs binding her wrists. She immediately went to reach for him but he slapped her hands away.
“Hands at your side or else I’ll spank you,” he ordered. “I’m taking my time. I’m in Florence. I’m here to admire the art. Don’t rush me.”
The zipper at her side slowly inched down until it rested at her hip.
His big, warm hands slipped under her straps, fingers scraping along her shoulder, as he pushed them down her arms. His head fell down to kiss her shoulder, dragging his lips across her heated skin.
Her breasts held the dress up but the moment he gave a light tug to the bottom, it yielded quickly and pooled around her ankles on the floor.
His shuddered breath told her that he was enjoying the view. Bare chested, nipples taut, and in nothing but her underwear and blindfold.
The underwear didn’t last long.
Peter slid them down straight after the dress until she was completely nude.
“More beautiful than The Birth of Venus. We should put you in a frame and have tourists come to gaze upon that instead. Maybe I should dangle you from the wall…all tied up with nowhere to go…I’ll start my own museum right here since you love to be such a tease. I’ll put you on display and have everyone see the kind of beauty I married.”
She was surprised to feel a wave of appreciative tears dampening her lashes. There was genuine love and admiration behind his words.
Married. They were married. Finally.
Her husband.
She loved that she got to call him that now.
Cool air breezed against her throbbing clitoris, halting the tears, to remind her how horny he had made her before she was chasing him around the room. She was too hot and eager to think about where that breeze was coming from. Drunk on her love for him. She bucked her hips to try and find some kind of friction for her to grind on.
She squeezed her thighs together, rubbing them back and forth.
“What’s the matter, baby?” Peter teased. “Need a hand?”
“Please,” she gasped.
“Hmm,” he pretended to think about it.
She wished she could see him.
She hated that he was so close but she couldn’t see exactly where.
“I don’t know. With the way you were strutting around in that dress, showing off to the boys, I don’t know if you deserve my touch. Maybe you deserve to be punished instead? What do you think?”
He didn’t wait for any answer.
Thwip!
Her left wrist was encased in a sticky, impenetrable substance and she jumped in surprise.
She was yanked forward until she felt the cool breeze against her bare chest.
The wind was softly blowing.
She could feel it rustling through her hair and dragging up the goosebumps along her flesh.
For the first time, she questioned exactly where in the room she was.
Why did it feel like outside when they were inside?
“Pete?” Her voice wavered. “What are you-”
Her arm was dragged out to her side and lifted high above her head as she gave a yelp of fright.
“Not my name, princess,” he chastised from up on the ceiling above her.
Thwip!
The same treatment was done to her right arm until she was bound, outstretched, and helpless.
Her fingers wrapped around the thick web, holding onto it for purchase, as her toes just barely scraped along the floor.
Peter chuckled to himself in amusement at her struggles, the sound coming from the ground behind her.
Always so damn silent.
“You look like a sexier version of Jesus on the crucifix. I want to drive nails through those dainty little hands of yours and listen as you cry out for mercy.”
If her eyes weren’t confined under heavy leather, she would have rolled them in response to his dirty talk.
“That sounds very appealing. Thank you,” her voice was dry and full of sarcasm, refusing to take him seriously.
Slap!
Her entire body jerked forward from the force of his blow against her ass.
Strong. Stinging.
Done with direct intention to cause pain.
Punishing her for the sarcasm.
She shrieked, mostly from the shock than the hurt, but immediately felt a trickle of wetness run down her thigh.
“Won’t you be a good girl and remind me of my favorite rule?”
His hand spread out over the stinging, hot skin of her cheek, giving her swift, hard pats to make sure the pain didn’t disappear too quickly as he spoke.
She shivered under his touch, “Don’t talk back to Daddy. Ever.”
“Good girl,” he cooed. “Next time use that pretty, little brain of yours and think before you speak.”
Her hair was tangled in his large hand as he shook her head back and forth to further his point.
“Otherwise, I’ll be forced to ball gag you.”
Fingers slipped between her thighs.
She parted her legs the best she could for him to get better access to her core.
A squelching of wet, soaked squishing sounds followed as two long fingers sunk inside of her.
A low, deep moan of approval rumbled out his throat at the sounds.
“You are absolutely drenched, my little whore. Something tells me you liked the pain. Maybe you were using that brain after all. Did you like it when Daddy spanks his naughty girl?”
Her tumbling whines followed as nimble, expert fingers stroked at her pussy, drowning out any worded response she might give.
Coaxing her to life.
Waking up all her senses.
She tried her best to hold her legs open for him despite feeling unsteady in her web binds. She wanted him to give her as much pleasure as he could and that meant letting him have easy access.
“Does my baby like the pain?” He asked again, running the hand not buried inside of her against her still stinging ass cheek. “Come on, I asked you a question, use your words, pretty girl.”
“Mmm, yes, Daddy. I like it. I like it!”
Smack!
She yelped, throwing her head back as waves of arousal washed over her. The pain from the spank mixed with the pleasure of his touch was enough for another gush of fluids to soak into his hand.
“Look at how hard your nipples have gotten,” he gave a dreamy sigh. “Oh wait, you can’t. My sweet, blind baby. All lost in the dark with nothing to look at.”
Her breathing was becoming ragged in her ears. Her body swayed against the webs.
Knowing hands wrapped around her stomach, leaving the warmth of her cunt, much to her displeasure.
They trailed upwards, through the valley of her breasts, until they gripped around her neck.
Her mouth opened in a silent gasp.
“Guess where I went today?” His voice was nothing more than a low, darkening whisper.
She couldn’t respond. His hand had tightened around her, softly squeezing, using a mere feather touch of his strength but still able to restrict her air flow.
“While my princess was napping, Daddy slipped out to buy you some presents. Found myself a little sex shop. You would have loved it,” he mused. “They had vending machines full of toys. Picked myself up a few fun gadgets to play with.”
He released his hand from around her neck, never wanting to hold her there for too long, and admired the way she gasped for breath.
Fingers tweaked at her nipples. He hadn’t been lying before, they really were rock hard. She could feel how tight they were from his rough menstruations.
She could hear him rummaging around behind her when something cold dragged across her breasts.
“Deep breath, princess.”
Following his warning, the cold, grooved metal clamped down over her left nipple.
She let out a genuine cry, her back arching from the pain.
It gripped her tighter than his teeth ever had, dragging her nipple out from her body, and squeezing down painfully hard.
The groves made it feel like little razors digging into her sensitive flesh.
Peter huffed out a laugh in a sadistic amusement at her reaction, “You know, when the woman running the store saw these come out of the vending machine, she looked over with a nod and said something like ‘molto doloroso’. Now, I don’t speak much Italian but I’m going to assume it translates to ‘Those hurt like a bitch and your pain whore of a wife will love them.’ Am I right?”
She choked out a sob, squirming uncomfortably against the webs, “Ow. It hurts…too much…hate ‘em.”
“Oh, don’t worry, there’s another one right here! It’ll help balance out the pain so both those beautiful tits get a turn.”
Another agonizing clamp bit down against her other nipple. The sharp, grooved metal felt like it might rip her nipple straight off her breast.
The nipple clamps they had at home were capped with a smooth rubber. These were bare and ready to grip on to her tender skin with the strength of a fucking bear trap.
She let out a full scream the moment it bit down, thrashing her body in an attempt to get away from the clamps. Crocodile tears rolled down her cheek from under the blindfold.
“Shh, shh, shh!”
A heavy hand cut off her cries by wrapping around her mouth. His breath was against her ear, hushing her, soothing her, running his lips over her forehead with quick kisses.
“Not so loud, baby,” he whispered. “You’ll draw a crowd with those cries.”
“What?” She gasped through heavy, pained breaths. “Crowds?”
Peter’s hands reached up to slide the blindfold up off her eyes and tossed it onto the floor.
He took a step to the side, watching her blink in confusion, as her tear blurred sight came back into focus.
She had forgotten about the breeze.
He had distracted her.
Kept her mind occupied so she wouldn’t ask questions.
She was tied up, stark naked, and splayed out directly in front of the arched floor to ceiling window overlooking the streets of Florence.
The top half of the glass was pushed open, letting in the cool evening summer breeze, and making sure nothing muffled the sounds of her screams.
And she had been screaming.
“Peter!” She cried in horror, paranoid that anyone could look up and see her. They weren’t that high up in the hotel. Any curious person who decided to glance upwards would certainly catch her out in all her glory.
Wack!
The sound of her sore ass being slapped filled her ears.
Nothing could hurt more than her breasts at the moment and she welcomed the familiar pain his hands brought.
She also couldn’t deny that growing, aching pressure happening between her legs. Her masochistic tendencies had yet to fail her.
“Not my name,” he scolded.
She whined, bouncing her leg against the floor in protest, and trying to tug at her bindings.
“Let me down!”
She knew full well that those webs would never give but it didn’t stop her from giving it a shot.
He leaned against the wall beside the open window, arms crossed, a prideful smirk sitting on his smug face, watching her struggle.
“I told you I was going to put you on display.”
She never thought he meant it literally.
Tears burned in her eyes at the wave of shame at being so exposed.
At least the shock helped to dull the pain in her breasts.
She scanned the tight streets below and was thankful to see that no one was stopped and staring.
Yet.
Her watchful eyes followed Peter as he pushed off from the wall and moved behind her.
Breath caught in her throat as his fingers found a home back inside of her drenched pussy.
“Still as wet as ever, I see,” he noted. “You can cry and beg and plead all you want but Daddy knows the truth. He sees behind your tears.”
Slick fingers circled around her aching clit.
Toying with it.
Teasing her.
“You like being held up on a pedestal.”
A long, skinny middle finger sunk inside of her.
Her head rolled back. Eyes closed.
“You like people hearing you cum.”
His thumb on her clit.
Brushing. Stroking.
Building her pleasure.
“You like having others watch as your Daddy pleasures his princess.”
In and out.
Slowly penetrating her with his finger.
Tending dutifully to that tiny bundle of nerves.
“You like the pain.”
He flicked at her nipple clamps.
Sending shots of pain throughout her breasts.
Electrifying her.
Soothing it over with those wonderful ministrations at her pussy.
“You love me and you’ll let me do anything I want to your gorgeous body…isn’t that right?”
She whimpered.
Eyes closed tight.
Feeling that build of orgasmic pleasure rising.
“I love you,” she breathed back, tears in her eyes. “I love you. I love you. I love you.”
He practically purred in her ear.
Or maybe it was a growl.
Whatever it was, the noise caused her cunt to gush in reply.
He chucked, “That’s it baby, you’re so close. I can feel you tightening around my fingers. What do you say we give the people a show?”
He was gone.
Leaving her empty.
Dripping.
Pathetically whining and begging for a finish.
“Don’t worry, princess,” he called from the other end of the room. “Daddy bought some more toys. He’s going to treat his baby tonight.”
She listened to the zipping of a bag as he rustled through to find what he was looking for.
Her chest rose and fell in anticipation. Each breath brought back the dulling sting from her nipples. She tried to keep still, terrified more movement would draw attention upwards toward the window.
She gave a quiet shudder at the thought and tried to imagine what she would look like from down below.
The image brought a glint of a wicked smile to her lips.
Something small and chilly brushed against her back door and she yelped in surprise.
Slap!
“Hold still!” He scolded.
The sound of a bottle squirting caused her to try to careen her head around to see what he was doing behind her.
She managed to catch a glimpse of the butt plug he held in his hand.
It looked a bit bigger than the small one they used at home but had the same metal teardrop shape. A red jewel flattened out the end.
“Figured this was the next size up from your old friend. You leveled up from girlfriend to wife. Time to level up in other areas, too.”
Lube smeared over her tight hole as the cold, rounded point pushed against it.
Not even a warm up with his fingers first.
Peter really was in a dominant, pent up mood.
Her eyes slipped closed and her head fell back against her arched spine. She let out a deep breath, relaxing her body as much as she could, so it could slide in easier.
“Ah, ow,” she gasped, hissing in pain. “Oh, fuck.”
Slow and steady he sunk it into her.
He held it there, stopped in place, over the thickest part of the teardrop. Forcing her body to stretch to the foreign object.
She tried to control her whines from being too loud. Her thighs trembled under her. Her face contorted into pain and her jaw clenched.
More lube trickled down between her crack to help the little device along as Peter took note of her tensing body.
“There you go, baby,” he encouraged. “Nice and easy. Breathe through it.”
He teased it through her ass, pushing it in a little ways and pulling it back out, making her continue to take on the thickest part of the plug just to keep up to torture a bit longer.
“Please, Daddy,” she whimpered. “Just put it in. Please.”
“Aww, does my sweet baby need her ass filled? You’re Daddy’s little fuck toy. Daddy’s going to have any hole he wants. You have no say in where he ends up.”
He refused to move it past the diameter, holding it steady.
“Did you happen to catch the color of that tacky, little jewel they stuck on the end?”
He pulled it back out.
Teasing just the tip.
Exciting the bundle of sensory nerves around her anus and making her wriggle around.
“Spider-Man red. Just for you.”
Finally, he eased the entire thing inside of her.
“Ahhh!” She wailed. “Fuck!”
Filling her up.
Swallowing the plug.
Feeling it heavy inside of her.
“So you’ll always remember who owns this ass.”
Smack!
His hand came down hard against her bruising cheek.
Ecstasy coursed through her veins at the sting.
She was so full. Stretched and heavy. Uncomfortably aroused.
An arm snaked up her own outstretched one to brush his fingers over her wedding ring, lacing his fingers with hers.
His bare chest pressed against her back, grinding his hips over her ass.
His face fell against her neck, inhaling her scent, nuzzling his nose against her.
“My beautiful wife,” he breathed. “All tied up. Horny for her husband. Put out on display for all of Florence to see.”
Fingers wrapped around her waist to dip through her pubic hair, finding her heated crevice, needy for his touch.
Palming. Flicking. Penetrating.
“Nipples clamped. Ass filled. My name, cursed forever on your lips. All you need now is a cock to fill that empty cunt.”
He fished it from the confines of his boxers.
Dragging it along her soaked valley.
Feeling it pulsate against her waiting lips.
“No!” She gasped, staring down at the people below.
She knew once he started to fuck her she couldn’t keep quiet. Her voice would soar out the open window and onto the people below.
They would look.
They would see her.
“What if-” Her breath quickened. “What if someone looks up? They’ll hear me. They’ll look. I know they will.”
She didn’t need to see his face to know Peter had a cheshire cat grin growing. The sound of his voice was enough to hear his rising libido.
“Then they’ll see a little princess fucking herself on her Daddy’s cock.”
The bulbous head of his thick rod pressed between her folds.
Sinking in.
Stretching her out.
He hesitated there. Stilling behind her.
“Go on, baby. Fuck yourself. Let everyone see what a whore you can be.”
She almost didn’t want to move. Didn’t want to give in. She could play games, too.
Her breath held in her lungs. Closing her eyes. Biting down on her bottom lip.
Peter waited.
The crown of his manhood nestled patiently in her pussy, being squeezed by her heated walls, kissed by her slick.
Letting her throw her silent tantrum.
She hung there, counting the seconds, fighting the urge to move, trying to breathe through her body’s desires.
Her legs were trembling. Her toes ached from holding her weight.
It would be so easy to just…ease back…impale herself on his sword…give up.
She could hear his labored breaths behind her. Smelled his cologne. Felt him twitching inside of her.
“Close the windows,” she struggled to whimper out through her held breaths. “Let’s go to the bed. Take me there. Fuck me there. I’ll let you do anything you want. Just…not…not in front of the window.”
Peter tutted his tongue, “Since when has Daddy ever let you make the demands, hmm?”
He reached his hands up to her shoulders and gave a gentle push, getting tired of her defiance, “When I tell you to fuck yourself, you fuck yourself. I’m not going to do it for you.”
Even the smallest of shoves from her shoulders was enough for her tiptoed feet to give out. She stumbled back, feeling his cock sink deeper.
She let out a strangled cry.
“No! On the bed. Bring to me to the bed!”
Her eyes were squeezed shut, refusing to see the window in front of them, torn between finding it extremely arousing and positively mortifying.
“I’m sorry, princess. The bed is for good girls. The bed is for well behaved women who don’t wear little dresses and shake their ass as they walk for all the men to stare at. The bed is for lovers.” His hand gripped around her hair and shoved her face towards the window. “The window is for whores who get off on pain and love the attention their Daddy gives them.”
His voice lowered into a commanding, deep tone, “Open your fucking eyes and look at your audience.”
She blinked through the flow of overly emotional tears clinging to her lashes and forced her eyes open.
People lined the tight, winding streets, walking lazily to their destination. Not one glanced up at them. Not one seemed to notice her out on display, front and center, above their heads. Peter was protected behind her body. She would be the one they see.
Framed by the window.
Art.
That’s what he called her earlier.
She was art and Peter, the artist.
Helpless to whatever ways he wanted to exhibit her
Little by little she sunk back onto his cock. Taking him into her. Eyes rolling back. Submitting to his demands until he bottomed out.
His chorus of pleased moans let her know he had won.
She let her body get used to him inside of her. Her pussy knew his cock well by now but she liked to reacquaint them carefully every time they would meet.
Peter was always a bit of a stretch.
With the girthier plug shoved in her ass, her arms bound and outstretched, and her nipples screaming in pain, she felt the need to move a little slower with her pussy today.
Gradual, small movements, easing herself up off his cock and then impaling herself back down.
Slow and steady.
She shifted on her toes, rocking her hips back and forth, taking him with longer and longer strides as her shameful whimpers grew into desperate cries.
“There you go,” he murmured, brushing her hair back off her shoulder to nip at her skin with his teeth. “Ride Daddy’s cock, babygirl. Show everyone how good you can take it.”
Her own slick coated his shaft, making it slip through her without resistance.
He stayed fairly still behind her apart from making sure his hips were pressed forward enough for her to have easy access to his body.
She was getting into a rhythm. Starting to get lost in the feelings.
But, the harder she fucked herself, the more her breasts would sway.
The more they moved, the more pain the clamps created as they bit down like they might cut clean through her flesh.
It was getting to the point where it might be too much pain for her to enjoy and ruining her momentum on his cock.
She hissed, biting down on her lip, trying to endure it the best she could manage.
Peter shifted behind her, bringing his lips to her ear, and whispering for reassurance, “Color?”
She swallowed, trying to decide exactly what she was feeling, “G-green?”
He stilled her by gripping onto her hips, keeping himself buried inside her warmth, but moving his head around in an attempt to better see her face.
“You sure? You don’t sound sure.”
She nodded, breathing heavily, “Almost yellow. Not quite though. But almost.”
“Which part?” He trailed loving kisses of safety along her neck, wrapping his arms around her waist to hug her sweetly from behind.
“The clamps.” When she saw his hands immediately move to take them off her, she hurried to add. “Not yet! I…still like them…but soon, okay?”
“Soon,” he agreed, giving her one more adoration infused kiss to her cheek, before slipping back into character. “Daddy never told his little princess to stop, did he?”
To shove her back into the role, he slapped her ass with three hard, lashing blows of his open palm.
Each slap caused her breasts to bounce, sending shooting shocks of pure, agonizing pain through her body and a rush of warmth to her cunt.
Pain and pleasure. Her favorite combination.
“Looks like the sweet little angel is getting quite the bruise back here. If you keep misbehaving, you won’t be able to sit down for our breakfast tomorrow. Then everyone will know what a bad, little whore you’ve been.”
She whined in response, bucking her hips backwards to find his cock again, needing more pleasure to balance out the scales.
“Eager little thing, aren’t you?”
He soothed his hands over her shoulders, pushing her down, sinking her onto his length.
“My pain hungry baby.”
It wasn’t difficult to fall back into her previous rhythm. Her cunt was soaked and starving for its lover to come back home.
“Fuck yourself on Daddy’s cock. Let those people down there know how much you love me. Be louder, princess. I want them to hear.”
She whimpered out a tiny cry.
Her motions grew frantic the more he continued to talk dirty in her ear.
That tiny cry grew into loud, unadulterated, guttural moans.
The sounds of a whore taking her favorite cock.
She struggled against the webs binding her. Her shoulders were starting to ache. Her arms were losing feeling.
Her body was stretched tight. Nipples crying. Ass sore. The weight of the plug was even more noticeable with his cock pushing in and out of her.
It felt like it was bouncing inside of her each time he pushed under it.
Her toes hurt from being hung up on such an unsteady height.
“Peter- Daddy,” she gasped. “Daddy, please…”
She didn’t know what she was asking for.
Some kind of relief.
Something steadier. Something more concrete.
“Shh, baby, it’s okay, Daddy’s got you.”
He reached around to her chest with both hands, simultaneously unclamping her nipples from their prison.
Fire erupted in its place as the blood rushed back.
A new kind of pain bloomed.
Searing and hot.
Her breasts were in flames.
She cried out. Loud and sharp.
At the same moment, Peter ripped her down from the webs, still embedded on his cock as he wrapped her up in tight arms and pushed her flat against the window.
Her hips pressed against the cool glass but her torso nearly bent out the opening.
Her anguished nipples happily sought out the cool breeze. Soothing over the sting. Settling her inflamed body. Not caring who looked up.
Peter gripped onto her hips so he could better ram into her. Her job was over. She had done what he wanted.
Now it was his turn to take over.
Her body surrendered to him.
“Ugnnn,” she whined. “Fuck!!”
Her hands clenched into fists against the glass. Her back arched.
Eyes wide.
Taking his thrusts with near drooling moans.
His rigid shaft drove into her, surging deep up inside, stretching her walls and drawing out the most luscious rumbles of pleasure.
His balls slapped up against her. The sound echoing around their vaulted ceiling.
Filling her. Stuffing her full.
Both holes used and defiled.
She couldn’t stop the noises she was making. Throaty moans, shrieking cries, babbling coos.
He was getting it all out of her.
Someone was watching. Looking at them. Spying them from down below.
A young couple.
“Daddy!” She sobbed. “They’re-”
“Shh,” he hushed her. “I know, baby. I see ‘em, too. They like what they see. They’re talkin’ about us. Enjoyin’ it.”
A broken cry fell from her lips and she stared down through her tears at the couple.
Her eye sight wasn’t the greatest. She couldn’t make out their faces very clearly but neither of them looked horrified.
They looked…giggly…
The woman was running her hand along her partner's arm. His hand disappeared behind her back and traveled down to her ass.
Harder and harder Peter slammed.
She was being ravaged by his strength. Losing the ability to make any noise.
Nothing but silent, open mouthed gasps and a raining of tears were all that came out.
“Too-” He grunted, crashing into her again. “Hard?”
Through a shuddering, gasping breath, she managed to choke out, “Don’t you fucking stop.”
As long as Peter was fucking her like this, he could do it any way he wanted. He could drag her out onto the streets and fuck her at that nosy couples feet if he pleased.
It was his art show. He held the control.
He didn’t stop. Didn’t slow. Didn’t pause.
His finger marks would be bruised into the soft flesh of her hips for the upcoming days with how tightly he gripped them.
She held eye contact with the watching woman down below. Stared straight at her. Sizing her up, silently challenging her to get as good a fuck from her partner as she was from Peter.
She wanted to make her jealous. Or horny.
Either was fine as long as the woman was thinking of her.
“Yes, Daddy!” She cried, loud enough for her voice to carry down below. “Feels so good! Making your little girl feel so good!”
She knew damn well Peter’s face was cast in the shadows behind her. The idea of this couple truely thinking she was being fucked by her own father made her laugh under her breath.
“Somethin’ funny, princess?” His voice was getting strained and she knew that meant he was getting closer to his release.
“Just enjoying my fans,” she gasped back. “They love what you’re doing.”
Her eyes were wild as she breathed in the fresh air.
She felt free.
She was married and in love. They were on their honeymoon in Italy.
She was getting absolutely pounded by her husband in full view of a watching, interested couple.
She should be embarrassed, ashamed.
But all she felt was bliss.
That plunging, relentless cock, massaging her channel, thick veins grazing over that tender g-spot whenever she angled her body correctly, the weight of the plug in her ass, her aching nipples…
Everything was pushing her straight towards her final hurdle.
Without much warning, it suddenly became all too much. No build up.
Just explosions.
A wave of ferocious, intense pleasure roared over her, sweeping her up, taking her by surprise.
She came hard and fast.
Sheiking. Crying out.
Thrashing against the window, leaning half way out of it, trying to gasp for air.
Peter grabbed at her hair to yank her back inside like he was terrified of losing her over the edge.
“Fuck, princess,” he grunted. “Where ya goin’?”
Her ears defended under the rush of blood swelling to her head but she was certain she was screaming in ecstasy from the way Peter’s hand clamped over her mouth to muffle her sounds.
She contracted tightly around his cock, squeezing him, using him to further her explosion of pleasure, still feeling the stinging pain of her breasts to only shove her deeper into subspace.
On and on her orgasm went. Unstoppable. As Peter kept driving into her and furiously rubbing his fingers over her clit.
He kept her heightened. Overloaded. Knowing that it would destroy her.
She had the brief sensation of feeling him cumming inside of her. Feeling the spurt of warmth. Feeling full.
But her agonizing long orgasm only served to weaken her rational thinking. She no longer existed. She was no longer on solid ground.
Floating. Drifting through space.
Lost amongst the stars.
Finally, her body gave up.
Finally, the orgasm came to a simmering hault.
She was done.
She hung limply against the window pane. Eyes rolling in her head. Twitching and whimpering.
Peter scooped her into his protective arms, cradling her against his chest, peering his face to see their onlookers.
“Shows over!” He called down to them. “Fuck off!”
Without his raging, pent up, sexual energy to seize control of his brain, he no longer liked the idea of anyone getting to view his naked wife besides him. His protective nature spiked to replace his dwindling arousal and he turned his back to the window to shield her with his body.
He carried her away from their stares back into the safety of privacy where she belonged.
She made no protests or struggles as their game finished. Her head hung limp against his shoulder.
“My sweet girl,” he murmured in her ear. She was being placed on their bed. “Daddy’s going to clean you up. Wait here.”
Time wasn’t real.
She blinked and he reappeared holding a warm, wet cloth to her legs.
Over her thighs.
Spreading her open.
Cupping it against her used and battered sex.
Gently cleaning away their mess.
“There,” he whispered. “All better.”
Peter crawled into bed in front of her, wrapping an arm over her waist and kissing at the tip of her nose.
Gradually, she returned to her body, her mind drifting slowly back into her skull.
“Mmmm,” she groaned. “Everything hurts. Think you broke me.”
He chuckled to himself, soothing a hand over an abused nipple, “Sweet girl. I’ll try to find you some ice in a minute. But, right now, I’m not leaving your side until you fully wake up. Rest, baby. You’re safe. I’ve got you.”
When she adjusted herself on the bed, sliding a leg through his, she took note of the fact that the plug was still snuggly lodged inside of her.
Their night was only just beginning.
He had left it there on purpose.
She kind of liked it.
Maybe she would wear it out to dinner…
#andrew garfield#tasm#the amazing spiderman#peter parker#tasm x reader#tasm fic#peter parker x reader#peter parker fic#tasm peter#tasm peter x reader#tasm peter x reader fic#tasm peter parker#tasm peter parker x reader#tasm peter parker x reader fic#spiderman#spiderman fic#the exhibit#blooming violets fic#blooming violets
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wifey I'm having such a bad day 😭😭 I need me some Marcus 😭😭💗 This would be a good moment to release your beautiful draft or I'm getting on my knees ready to beg for something cute of him😭😭
(if you need ideas you know I got a new haircut so how would he react to the reader changing their hair?? or maybe cheering them up after a bad day?? xx😭😭)
note 💌: wifey your wish is my command so sorry for not managing to get to this faster but lately i have been trying to keep up with everything so here this comes
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one and only | marcus lopez arguello
pairing: marcus lopez x reader | genre: established relationship | warning: no warnings <3 | word count: 0.5k
[ BACK TO MASTERLIST ]
One thing that Marcus hated the most was not being able to spend more time with you lately. He has been planning lately how to kill Master Lin and in such a fashion he forgot to pay attention to you. Which he was reminded shortly, when he found you crying in your bed.
Wrapped in a blanket, with you head laying on the pillow, letting our little sobs, that's how Marcus saw you as he entered the door. To say that he was speechless couldn't express even half of what he was feeling. You. The love of his life. Were crying. Never in a million years he couldn't have been more hurt by seeing you like this. As the emotions ran through his heart, he ran to you.
Leaning by the side of the bed, holding your hand, slowly waking up from the somewhat trance you were in. He caressed your cheek softly, before speaking. "Hey..." Marcus said almost in a whisper, not knowing what to say exactly as the concept of love has never been taught right by his parents. "What happened baby?" He continued in the same tone.
Moments after hearing his voice, you lean into his touch, taking a moment to observe his features. He looked like he hadn't slept properly for days. His tired eyes searching for yours. Calmly you take a deep breath, nuzzling your head into his chest, taking in his scent. It was familiar. Comforting.
Your day couldn't have been worse, from working with Maria at a project and later being threated by Chico for daring to even talk to Maria in the first place, not only to not seeing your boyfriend as he lately he has been spending a lot of time planning with Saya. But you couldn't just bluntly say it right into his face, because you knew damn well that i would hurt him.
"Maria..." You say wiping your tears, barely giving him any information about the situation that you were in. The moment he heard you blurt out Maria's name, getting up and clenching his firsts, knowing what he had to do. He growls. "I'll fucking kill her."
"No..." You said, taking his hand and squeezing it. You wanted him to stay there with you, to keep you safe. "Stay..." You whispered to him, moving his hand to make him lay on the bed next to you. Knowing that fighting Maria will get him into trouble and that you needed him, he decided to lay down next to you. Wrapping his arm around you and making you the little spoon.
There were no words needed when it came to the two of you. Marcus loved making you feel loved even if he couldn't spend more time with you. He lets out a loud sight and leaves a trail of kisses on your back. Even if he was angry at Maria, hearing your heartbeat always managed to calm him down.
© LUCIFERTOXICS ⎯ do not repost, translate, plagiarise or claim any of my works as your own.
#marcus lopez arguello#marcus lopez imagine#marcus lopez smut#marcus lopez x reader#marcus lopez x y/n#marcus lopez x you#marcus x reader#writing#deadly class#benjamin wadsworth#mattheo riddle#mattheo riddle x reader#mattheo riddle x you#mattheo x you#mattheo x y/n#mattheo x reader#mattheoxreader#slytherin boys#slytherin
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It's finally here, my gift for @alwaysdrowninginfeels for the @knbexchange event 🤍
I decided to go with ImaKasa and Coffee Shop AU (well, it's not really a coffee shop, more like a café/bar)! This was my first time drawing Imayoshi as well as my first time actually thinking about this ship. I got really into it sooo I decided to make a little comic! ☕️ I also decided to try something different from my usual art style, something a little simpler and with less bold colors... Had a lot of fun working on this and I am pretty happy with how it turned out! I hope you will like it, too! 🤍
#knb#kuroko no basuke#kuroko no basket#the basketball which kuroko plays#kasamatsu yukio#imayoshi shoichi#imayoshi shouchi#imakasa#imayoshi x kasamatsu#kasamatsu x imayoshi#fanart#my art#i got so into this i made an entire au in my head#might actually post something related to theese idiots again soon#i got really into them and honestly that's a gift#so yeah... i think we both got gifts in a way!#when it's about the art style - i had so much fun picking colors and stylising everything and making the lines sharp#really tried to set a cozy coffee shop mood with using the earthly colors so muchh#ALSO I SHOULD HAVE PLANNED WHERE THE SPEECH BUBBLES SHOULD GO... i literally finished everything and then added them at the end...#that was NOT a good idea - barely squeezed them in#alsooo the mole on yukio's hand is a little special - i have a mole on the same place#wanted to add something 'me' in the gift#decided to make it a mole...#hope you don't mind it#ALSO i had a lot of fun adding some details#like the board in the background or the guitar and backpack and textbooks and all the people in the background#i loved drawing this AHHH#hope you will like it as much as i do ♡♡♡
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i just woke up so i haven't actually watched the pokemon direct thingy yet, but i heard they mentioned they aren't pushing out another console release at all for 2024 and if that's true then frankly THAT news is way more hype than any actual game announcement could ever be. go girl let us wait!! this is genuinely what i've been begging for for years now
like, oh a new Legends game? that's neat i guess. oh wait it's being given literally ANY time to cook and they aren't crunching Game Freak to hell and back in order to pump out a bunch of half-baked annual releases for the first time in ages?? NOW we're fuckin talking. LOVE to see the torturous cycle broken
#buny text#pokemon#granted they may have just delayed their plans simply because nintendo still isn't releasing a new console til pretty late in the year#and they cannot feasibly keep trying to squeeze things down into a format the switch can (barely) handle without losing goodwill#but i'd like to hope that this also proves they don't need to be pumping out 3 console titles and multiple DLCs in such short spans of time#i'd love to see what might happen if the pokemon devs were ever given the kind of long thorough dev cycles that the zelda team gets#like let gamefreak cook for as long as they need and release when they actually feel it's ready. please.#as frustrated as i am with how SV turned out the majority of my frustration was that you can still FEEL the devs' passion in there#but it's massively overshadowed by jank and lack of polish and design decisions that would only ever be made under intense time pressure#the last chunk of that game's story is cool as hell but getting there was such a depressing experience that it's very hard to recommend#these are clearly artists who still have good ideas and interesting experiences to create! give them the time they need to do it properly!
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everyone and their goddamn mother EXCEPT for fang. have picked up Vibes that he maybe has a tiny baby crush on our resident paladin.
he's literally so fucking clueless. i love it so much.
#speculation nation#d&d#GREAT NEWS previously assumed dead sorcerer is actually alive#left letters for us. & in fang's she mentions how he makes a good pair with the paladin#or. sorry. 'you guys work well together.' but also 'i think she brings you some comfort'#and fang sees this and is just like 'hmm i guess she does' [proceeds to not think about Why]#his adopted mom has been trying to like. subtly push them Together. but Subtly. bc she realizes fang literally has no clue#but she can see it. she can tell by the way he looks at the paladin. that he really does like her#said paladin may be starting to get an inkling. considering how fang does things like oH I DONT KNOW reaching out and grabbing her hand#to give it a lil squeeze. as a goodbye.#shuffling close to get a good long hug after a Very long day#always looking to her. Trusting Her. & yea he kinda does end up relaxing anytime she's around#it's. really very sweet.#it's the first time he's really felt this way about someone and he has No fucking idea how to spot it#he's barely even had friends before. so.#he'll get there maybe. someday.
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𝐋𝐈𝐓𝐓𝐋𝐄 𝐅𝐔𝐍
summary: you can't wait any longer, so you let your older brother's best friend fuck you;
content: nsfw!mdni, suguru is your older brother; doggy, missionary, creampie, praising;
“fuck- satoru” you’re gasping, your fingers are gripping the sheets as his cock harshly thrusting into you, “baby, stop whimpering” his head is bent towards you, and you can feel his gloating smile, “are you my good girl mmm?” he's cooing and you’re nodding, feeling how deep gojo is and he just smirked, “so proud of you, princess.”
you always teased satoru when he came to your house with suguru. you liked to casually walk past them in one of your short outfits, which is why gojo switched his focus of attention to you. and, of course, suguru noticed this by giving him a steely glance, which satoru just grinned at.
every time you looked at him with your angelic smile, he wasn't exactly touched, rather, he wanted to know what was hiding behind it.
his palm made its way and he squeezed your waist without slowing down. you feel his veiny fat cock pounding your soaking walls leaving wet slaps.
“how do you think suguru will react if he sees us?” he kisses your shoulder, barely biting the skin, you moan and your back is against to his wide chest, “hate you-” gojo just chuckled and sank his cock deeper, causing you to cry out a little, his tip is adjacent to your tight cunt.
satoru grabbed your chin and stifled your moans with a kiss. he feels your fat tears flowing down your cheeks. your mind is not focused on anything except the tension in your lower abdomen.
“you’re so pretty, baby” his cock gradually throbs in you, still inexorably shaking your walls. satoru's voice vibrates, feeling you shrink “someone's gonna cum?”
“i'm close, satoru, i can’t” you feel a tingling sensation in your limbs and sigh loudly, succumbing to satoru, who presses you close to him and grunts under his breath, “so good, so good” he cum, filling you up to the very edge and loosing his grip on you.
you rolled over on your back, your eyelashes glistening with tears. satoru approaches you, covering your body with his, “my sugar” he kisses your neck and before reaching your chest, gojo stumbled and looked at you “wanna feel you again” you're meowing by moving your hips. your clenching pussy touches his red sensitive tip and he bites his lips.
“if suguru knew what you really are,” he grins, stroking your thigh, “he would be amazed by you.” gojo spread your thighs and he saw a beautiful sight on your pussy stuffed with his cum. He can't get the idea out of his head that you're so cute looking like that.
“i'm not a child” your sullenness disappears momentarily when every inch of his cock is pushed into you again, “i see, i see” gojo whispers to you, putting his finger to your half-open mouth. you and he heard footsteps and soon a voice calling you.
“hey, what have you been doing in your room for so long?” suguru is talking to you and you see the door handle move.
“don't come in!-” his cock completely sinks into you, causing you to lose your temper.
“what? what’s going on?”
“i'm-i'm changing!” you can hardly pronounce and cover your mouth with your palm while satoru is stretching into you.
suguru lets go of the door handle in disbelief and leaves, “I'm waiting for you.” you stopped listening to him and completely surrendered to gojo. you already didn't care about anything when his cock hits your pampered and sensitive places perfectly, which makes you breathe shallowly.
“fuck, angel, you're driving me crazy" he grabs you by the hips, frantically and sloppily bumping into you. you sigh softly, casting an innocent glance at satoru with your eyes, savoring the traces of the outgoing ograsm
his muscles are strained to the very limit and every time he penetrated you, his cock was covered with cum, ”wait- shit, gonna fill you up again” he groaned and you dig your nails into his skin, feeling the spreading warmth.
gojo drapes your leg over his shoulder, stroking and kissing it. his voice sounds hoarse, but he still tries to be gentle in front of you.
“now distract your brother so that i can get out of here alive.”
#jjk x reader#jjk x y/n#jjk headcanons#jjk x you#jujutsu kaisen#jujutsu kaisen x you#jujutsu kaisen x reader#gojo x you#gojo satoru x you#gojo x reader#gojo satoru x reader#gojo x y/n#jjk smut#gojo smut#gojo satoru x y/n#gojou satoru x reader
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✩ ˛˚ . GOJO SATORU — sometimes your boyfriend’s want for you just seems to be insatiable.
ஜ ˖ ࣪࿐ྂ warnings! f!reader, mating press, breeding, biting, he loses control of his technique a teeny tiny bit at the end, im going absolutely insane. ♡ ˖ ࣪࿐ྂ note! hiii this is a lil mix of my gojo thoughts over the past few months, my sanity is slipping as u can tell <3
the way gojo satoru was in bed was exactly how he was in real life, absolutely merciless when he wanted to be, you realise with the dizzy haze in your mind and the pillow he’s shoved under your hips. there’s a pleasurable burn in your thighs where he’s got them folded into you, your ankles dangling by his ears as his hips press into your ass and the way he looks over you is needy, and a little wild.
but he only really got like this on on a few occasions, like after a gruelling mission, a boring mountain of paperwork or maybe you’d been teasing him. sometimes he’s just consumed by the idea of you carrying his kids— he’s so incredibly insatiable.
“you feel me right here, sweet thing, hm?” the snowy haired man above you hisses with a languid roll of his hips, deliberately pressing into the sweet spots inside of you that he always seems to be able to find so easily. but you can barely breathe, nevermind answer with how full you feel — your warm walls twitching around his heavy shaft before he’s giving you a few more thrusts.
“don’t hold out on me, it feels good, right?” gojo goads, chuckles when the next particularly deep kiss of his cock along your insides has your lips parting to moan, eyes squeezing shut as you wriggle underneath him.
“‘ts too deep, satoru! fuck—“ you manage, voice breaking under the weight of your own arousal but shit— he loves you like this. pliant and pretty and all his. you’re basically begging for him to give you his soul, to pour it into your body and your bones until you’re twitching— his stamina was limitless after all, an endless pool of energy.
“oh? but i’m sure you can take more..” gojo’s words are a low drawl as he curls over your folded figure, making your muscles scream for some sort of relief but he still manages to give you more. he begins a pace that’s so deep, so animalistic that you feel like you could black out with the way the pleasure rips through you, making your body clap against his as his balls smack loudly against your ass and suddenly he’s even deeper.
“see, i knew it.” it’s smug despite the the trembling undercurrent to his tone, breaking under the weight of his own arousal as his voice takes an octave higher. but you’re doing so well for him, your eyes are rolled back— lips parted and you’re basically begging for him to go harder when he leans into press his lips against yours, pushing his name between your lips as your hands grab at him for any sort of relief.
“almost there, right?” gojo groans against you with the next quiver of your walls; the next particularly heavy thrust makes your thighs tremble and he’s so deep it almost hurts, making something spark and burn along your inside as he fucks you into the mattress like a wild animal.
you whimper, barely— it’s a desperately pathetic little sound, wound up tight and it makes him pull away to look at you, crystalline eyes cloudy with lust before his lips are stretching into a smirk.
“oh, more?” gojo’s head cocks to the side and you know you’re done for when his pace picks up, every heavy thrust is driven by the muscles in his body and your pussy squelches loudly with every wet connection of his hips.
“oh, i’ll give you more, baby. so greedy f’ me, hm?” despite his teasing, he’s babbling— sweat beading along his skin as the snowy peaks of his hair frame his flushed features and fuck, the pretty sight above you only makes you feel even better. you’re so high off his desperation, every muscle in your body screams under his but the nerves in your body cry even louder with how good you feel— with how much your body craves him.
“‘ts so tight, you milkin’ me, sweet girl? how many you want, huh? give you as many as you need. wanna see you swollen f’ me, you want that, mhm?” gojo’s barely coherent but his words only make you squeeze around him tighter— a silent little invitation as every thrust has you crying more, more, more! satoru, want your cum—please! punched out little gasps and cries as he digs the orgasm out of you.
“oh, you’ll look so pretty f’ me—f-fuck!” his huge body is looming over yours, pressing you into the mattress and the pillows beneath you. your thighs are flush against his abdomen and chest, and your lungs feel like they quake on every exhale as your lips part to moan. he presses himself into you— face nuzzling into the crook of your neck as he grazes his teeth along the skin there, headboard screeching loudly in time with every smack of his hips.
“‘toru, please please please—‘m g’nna,” you tremble as you shake beneath gojo, thighs tensing tight against his body and he knows he’s got you exactly where he wants you as he smirks against your skin. your orgasm hits you so suddenly, so hard and good that your toes curl where they hang over his shoulders, your body stiffening beneath him and the first milking compression of your pussy makes his pace stutter, hugs him so tight he can’t help but bite so hard into the sensitive skin of your neck he draws blood.
“should see h-how pretty you look like this. tell me ‘ts all mine, y’ gonna make me a daddy, yeah? g’nna fill you up so good. oh, this pussy’s made f’ me, ain’t it?”
his body trembles as he pulls back slightly to watch your cream pool around the base of his cock, your slick smeared along his skin and your walls still throb with every unforgiving push of his hips. your orgasm feels like it stretches on forever as you gasp out broken yeah, yours, love you so much ‘toru, waves rolling through your body with the heat you feel pour and sting along your nerves. it only takes a few more clapping thrusts and your choked confessions before hes kissing you, just as he likes as his lips curl into you.
gojo cums hard, thick and heavy inside of you when he feels your tongue push against his, swallowing both of your groans into the kiss as he pushes his load into your puffy cunt. you’re both so lost in bliss, so unaware of the electricity across your boyfriends skin and the uncomfortable pressure that seems to suddenly weigh down on your intertwined bodies.
the bedroom light flickers but you don’t notice, he’s slurring curses against your lips as he almost pins your thighs to your chest completely, the air between you seems tighter— atoms trembling in the finate space. but he’s continuing to fuck into your sensitive pussy with tiny little thrusts you don’t notice the creek of your furniture as it twitches out of place— like it’s being pulled towards you both. the small flickers of purple fizzle out when you’re both spent and he’s collapsing on top of you with a low, breathy chuckle, making you whine with the cramp you feel in your body.
“‘toru! you’re heavy.” you grumble, voice worn and scratchy but it doesn’t move gojo as he cuddles deeper into you, leaving sweet little kisses along your skin with obnoxious kissy noises— a stark contrast to how filthy he was being a second ago.
you’re both breathing deep as you give up trying to escape from underneath him, opting to press your fingers through his damp hair instead before he finally moves. he pulls back, enough for his cock to push his cum out of your pussy as he does, squelching and dripping into the mattress beneath you both as you jolt slightly. “careful, ‘ts messy, ‘toru.”
gojo whistles lowly before he looks at you again, one of your legs still haphazardly thrown over his shoulder before he’s placing a sweet kiss to your ankle, then following it up with a painfully languid, experimental thrust as his crystalline eyes focus on the mess he’s made of you.
“come on, sweet girl. you’re not nearly full enough f’ me yet.”
© 2023 GAROUJO. please do not copy any of my layouts or writing and translate or repost onto any other sites.
#݁ . ࿓ : sealed#jjk x reader#jjk smut#jjk x you#jujutsu kaisen x reader#jujutsu kaisen smut#jujutsu kaisen x you#gojo x reader#gojo smut#gojo x you#gojo satoru x reader#gojo satoru smut#gojo satoru x you
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mafia!ghost learns that shy!reader is a virgin the hard way...
mafia!141 masterlist
Physical touch used to scare you. There was something about the way that someone else’s flesh against yours that made your skin crawl, like they were soaking up every thought and memory you have ever had. Stealing the very essence that made up the fiber of your mussels and the mass of your brain. Maybe that’s what made it so nice; why people enjoyed it. Being vulnerable, allowing someone to behold the soft meat that you hid underneath clothes to never be seen or kissed was liberating.
Things were different when it came to Simon. When he touched you it felt more like your bodies were intertwining together, where nerves knotted into one and blood mixed so violently that it clotted. It was sharing memories, whispering thoughts rather than stealing them. And you craved his touch. Craved the soft brushing of his fingertips against your arm or the way his hands gripped your hips, and you wanted more of it. So much so that you began to dream of it.
You’d dream of what his lips would feel like against your neck, teeth grazing against the tender skin that throbbed with your pulse while his hips grinded into yours. You wanted that pressure, that all encompassing weight to crush you, to grind away at you until you were open and bare for him. And you wanted more. More and more until it was too much, and even then it still wasn’t enough, always close, always teetering, always…
And then you woke up.
It always ended up like that. You would always wake up right before the ending, and you would find yourself laying in bed as a pent up and sweating mess. Usually you would roll over and pick up where your dream left off, taking care of yourself the only way you knew how with your fingers on your clit, but that time you couldn’t. Because you weren’t in your bed, you were in Simon’s.
What had been a night to binge a good TV show turned into a series of just one more episode until both of you were too tired to move. Rather than take you home, he carried you into bed where you spent the entire night with his arms wrapped around your waist and your back pulled into his chest. He wasn’t there when you woke up, but you could hear the distant sound of water hitting tile somewhere down the hallway outside of his room, which meant he wasn’t far.
Surely you could have risked it. Could have dipped your hand into the shorts Simon let you sleep in and made quick work of yourself before he came back, but the idea of him walking in on you like that was repellant enough. Caught with your hands between your thighs like a whore was a risk you weren’t willing to take. So you laid there, scrunched up on your side while your thighs pressed tightly together in an attempt to soothe the throbbing in your cunt. If anything, it only provoked the feeling further, and to make matters worse, you were smothered in the scent of nicotine and Simon’s cologne.
It didn’t take him long to emerge from the shower, and when he entered the room he was half naked and strutting around like he had never heard the word modesty in his entire life. A plain towel hung low on his hips, and the only reason it was even remotely secure was due to the fact he held the knot just below his navel. His hair was still wet and sat in heavy clumps that he attempted to brush out with his fingers as he approached your side of the bed with a smile.
“Mornin’ love,” he hummed. His weight sank into the mattress next to you, pulling you into his gravity while his fingers brushed against your cheek. “Sleep alright?”
You nodded your head and hummed in response, but somehow your voice felt pitchy and nearly whiny. You couldn’t be blamed. Not when each and every one of Simon’s tattoos were on display for you and you were engulfed in the fresh scent of his body wash and shampoo. Warmth radiated from his hand that ignited a fire that ate away at your stomach, and you found your thighs squeezing together once more as you attempted to bury yourself further into the mattress and blankets.
It was just because you had just woken up, surely. Simon had never seen you first thing in the morning like that before, and you prayed he would chalk it up to some early morning quirk of yours. Judging by the smirk that blossomed on his face, you knew he saw right through you. Like he could smell the arousal seeping from your body.
“Yeah?” he prompted, voice purposefully teasing in the most wicked way that made your thighs shift.
He chuckled at your pathetic response, and you wanted to be snarky but the words got caught in your throat the moment his hand slid from your cheek and down to your shoulder. Fingers hooking underneath the blanket, he carefully pulled it down as if he was undressing you, and to make it worse, he didn’t take his eyes off of yours.
“What’s got you all hot and bothered, sweetheart?” he asked, tone purposefully low as he dipped his head closer to yours.
His hand continued to run lower as he moved more of the blanket off of you while he explored your legs. And you tried to reply to him, tried to think of something to say but nothing would form properly in your mouth or your brain, so all you did was stutter. Unforgiving, Simon wasn’t making it easy on you at all as his hands drifted between your legs. Before you could stop them, you found your knees splitting apart, legs opening up as if you had been burnt by his touch.
Inviting himself in, Simon fully hopped up on the bed with you, hips settling between your legs while his arms rested on either side of your head. Spiky clumps of still wet hair rubbed against your cheek as his lips latched onto the side of your neck. Blood gushed through your veins and arteries so powerfully you were certain you’d burst at the seams, but no reaction in your body could distract you from the heavy and firm weight that settled on your lower stomach.
Simon’s towel had come off.
“Words, love,” he said, breath tickling your neck.
With so many emotions and thoughts swirling in your mind they all started to blend into one massive mess. You wanted, needed, something to help get rid of that aching feeling in your cunt, and yet at the same time the pressure inside of you built up so quickly you felt like you would pass out. Torture, that’s what it was. Needing something so terribly bad and not knowing how to ask for it.
“Simon,” you stuttered out, throat tight.
“Me?” he repeated, lips finally tearing away from your neck.
He pushed himself away from you until he was on his knees and sitting back on his haunches. You felt small laying underneath him like that, and your teeth sunk into your bottom lip as you stared up at him, eyes widening at the sight of him. Thick corded muscles in his bicep flexed and pulled as he pumped at himself while the sticky sound of precum accompanied the movement. Looking down between your legs you saw the way he was nestled there, thick thighs spreading yours apart while the leaking tip of his cock threatened to ruin your borrowed shorts.
It was then that you noticed the silvery sheen that decorated his glands. At first you thought it was the trick of the light, some sort of wetness that just reflected back the dim sunlight that peeked through the blinds. Then you realized they were piercings. Several of them, to be in fact, all surrounding the head of his cock like a crown. You sat there in awe for a moment as you watched his fingers lazily twist and tug at his tip, length hardening with each bit of stimulation.
“I’ve got you this worked up?” he teased, which had your attention returning to his face. His free hand rested on your thigh before slowly snaking up to your hip inch by burning inch. He gripped the waistband of your shorts and gently began to pull down, exposing the soft flesh and bone that laid underneath. “Sorry ‘bout that, love. Guess I should do something to make it up to you, huh?”
It wasn’t until the shorts had nearly slipped past your pelvic bone that you realized just exactly what you were getting yourself into. More so, what you were getting Simon into. You had never had sex before, and even more, you hadn’t told him. Should you just stay quiet about it? Would he be upset if you didn’t tell him that he was the one taking your virginity? Did he even want to be with someone so clumsy and inexperienced? Vicious thoughts began to swirl around your head, and before you knew it, your hand reached out and grabbed his wrist, instantly making him cease his movements.
“I’ve never…” you blurted out before the air seemed to leave your lungs. You swallowed hard as you saw the confusion twist onto Simon’s face and you suddenly wished you hadn’t spoken at all. “I’ve never… like… had sex before.”
Simon was silent for what felt like an eternity. He slowly raised your shorts back up over your hip as he wetted his lips with his tongue. Gears started to turn so furiously in his head you feared you had broken him. Any moment he would topple over with nothing but smoke and brain goo pouring out of his ears. Instead, he tilted his head to the side as if a curious dog.
“You’re a virgin?” he said, confirming what you had already told him.
For some reason, him putting it so bluntly was more flustering than the fact you had a naked man hovering over you. Ashamed, your legs began to instinctively close, only to be stopped due to Simon’s body still being in the way.
“Sorry,” you muttered, eyes glancing anywhere in the room but him.
“Sorry?” he repeated with a chuckle. The mattress shook as he began to shift to the side where he removed himself from between your legs before collapsing on the bed next to you. Thick, tattooed arms wrapped around you as he planted a quick and surprisingly soft kiss on your shoulder. “Nothin’ to be sorry ‘bout.”
“I killed the mood,” you retorted with a whine. You wanted to thrash around, kick your legs against the mattress, throw a fit, do something because of how frustrated you were that you, once again, fucked something up. Instead you settled for pressing the palm of your hands against your eyes with a heavy sigh. “Maybe it’s for the best. I’m too dumb and clumsy for this shit anyways.”
“Hey,” Simon said, tone sounding almost like a warning.
Without so much as straining, Simon raised a single hand and grabbed both of your wrists before carefully pulling your hands from your face. He propped himself up on his other arm so that he leaned over you halfway, obscuring your vision so that you had no choice but to look at him.
“Sorry,” you apologized yet again before he had the chance to chastise you further. “I just- I want to, I do. It’s just, I get anxious and start to overthink and just…”
It hadn’t even hit noon and for the millionth time that day your words died before they ever fully formed. His eyes were just so goddamn pretty, and you found it difficult to even think when he looked at you. Couple that with the fact he was naked and pressed against you, you were surprised you even got that much out to begin with.
“Quit puttin’ yourself down, sweetheart. I’ll go slower next time,” he assured you as his hand let go of your wrists. “It’s alright to be nervous. That’s why we talk ‘bout these things, yeah?”
His softness and understanding caught you off guard, though you weren’t sure why it did. Throughout your time together he had been nothing but soft, kind and considerate. An asshole for sure, and cocky as all hell, but maybe that’s what you liked most about him. So you nodded your head in agreement and mustered a quiet smile that had him rewarding you with a quick kiss.
He didn’t fully pull away from the kiss, though. Gentle fingers brushed against the side of your face while his lips ghosted against yours in a smirk. Just like that, he had you falling apart at the seams again.
“Next time, I’ll go so slow you’ll be begging for it.”
consider this my way of edging you guys <3
#mafai!simon#mafia!ghost#mafia!141#simon riley smut#simon riley x reader#ghost x reader#simon ghost riley x reader#ghost smut
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ꜰᴜᴄᴋᴇᴅ ᴍʏ ᴡᴀʏ ᴜᴘ ᴛᴏ ᴛʜᴇ ᴛᴏᴘ !
♡ content warning . dubious consent, mentions of drugging, sex work, breeding kink, cum play, weird usage of condoms, dom! Coryo
You didn’t know how you ended up like this.
Being an escort wasn’t an easy job. There were times when you were completely disgusted at the men who approached you (if not all of them). Coriolanus was supposed to be a normal client— someone that would fuck and go. Even with his ranking, you never suspected that he would… keep you.
You had had a few weird clients— some asked for the most vulgar, filthy things. Some of them followed you around before your boss had told them off.
But none of them have ever took you home.
You usually weren’t this stupid, this hazy minded, but Coriolanus had scooped you up with his wit and his charm and a bottle of something you hadn’t had before the economy went downhill. You had heard of him— of course you had—- the powerful, handsome, and extremely intelligent, Coriolanus Snow. And before you knew it you were being tossed onto his king sized bed and his tongue was scraping against the roof of your open mouth. You didn’t even have time to gape in drunken wonder at his enormous bedroom— all you could think about was the cock gliding in between your legs, meaty and thick and wet. He had become completely bare to you, regardless of your opposing position. You were still clothed in your pink floral dress and your basic cotton panties.
Coriolanus’ lips grazed over your jugular, his tongue nipping at your skin. You had never been this hot for anyone, especially not a client. Your panties were soaking, your clit was throbbing and you needed to cum. What was happening to you?
“Cor…” you tried to slur out, as your eyelashes fluttered.
“I know.”
His voice was incredibly gentle, and his big hands groped your tits through your dress. He lifted up the hem, made sure to expose your panties to him, and groaned. You could feel his precum smear against your thigh as he ground his aching member against you.
“Can’t even say my name, can you?” Coriolanus continues. “I have an idea. You can just call me Coryo. Short enough for your little brain to remember, yeah?”
Coryo. It was a nice name. A perfect name.
You moaned out when you felt the cool air hit the peaks of your puffy and swollen nipples. Coriolanus—Coryo— was peeling your dress off of your body. When the fabric was thrown across the room his mouth latched to one of your nipples. You mewled, hands going up to grasp his blonde curls, your chest very sensitive all of a sudden. You could feel that familiar organ probing at your folds, and— when did he put a condom on? You didn’t know, but relief would’ve coursed through you if you weren’t so aroused that you were practically drooling.
“Want it,” you whined out, scraping his scalp with desperation. “Coryo. Please.”
Huffing out a laugh, he reached down and wrapped his hand around his shaft. He gave it a few tugs, made sure the precum pearled over and made a sticky white stain on the inside of the latex. He used the tip to part your pussy lips and find your hole. He pushed in, slow at first, but your pussy was so wet from whatever he slipped in your cup that it was almost easy. Even with his overwhelming size, your cunt accepted his cock greedily, sucking him inside your tight canal. Coryo groaned, practically going cross eyed at the feeling of your warm, wet pussy.
“Never had a cunt so tight,” he grunted against you. “even with all the men you sell yourself to, you’re still squeezing me like a fucking vice, sweetness.”
Your mouth dropped open, his words making you impossibly hornier. Usually you would be offended by such a vile statement, but his big cock was throbbing and wading through your walls with such precision that it had your legs shaking.
And Coriolanus had this charisma about him— something that made his words even more powerful than most. And after that statement, he just kept talking.
“Oh, Angel. My good, special girl,” his thrusts were impossibly fast now, the plap plap plap of his balls slapping against your sore and raw fucked pussy making you cry. “You’re mine now.”
His. His, his, his. Your fingernails dug into him, his chest touching yours sending tingles all throughout your body, and he kept spewing out dirty innuendos. You never thought being fucked could feel this good. His fingers reached down and rubbed your swollen clit, and it was like magic, the way your pussy spasmed and your orgasm washed over you. Seizing up, you mewled out his name as you came on him.
Coryo was mesmerized by your cunt squeezing him so tightly. Your pretty folds, lips spread out and wet, your hole sucking him in like he was meant to be there, like he was meant to fuck his cum into your womb, it was all so much. No amount of classism could keep him from you. Not after this. District or not, he would make you his gorgeous little wife. He would give you everything, love for you, kill for you. With the thought of this possession towards you, his hips began to stutter. Your eyes were closed, but you were still humping yourself against his awaiting thrusts. His balls drew taught, and he could feel his awaiting cum begin to flood the condom wrapped around his length.
No. No, no, no. This wasn’t right.
Not to Coriolanus. Not now— your pussy needed to be fucked full of his hot cum. You needed to be bred. And he was going to keep you and make sure of it.
Coriolanus watched your fluttering eyelids, the small smile grazing your features as his thrusts slowed. Something primal coursed through him, and he slowly pulled himself out of you. Watching your gaping hole made his cock twitch again, and he used his fingers to slowly twist the condom off of his cock. Full of his cum, he spread your lips with two fingers and turned the latex upside down. His spend dropped out of it and onto your used little hole, and you whimpered out as his cum splashed against your cunt.
“Coryo? What’r you doing?”
“Just getting you nice and wet for me, little bird. Close your eyes.. let me fuck you again.”
And like clockwork, his cock was probing your entrance for a second time— his sticky cum being pushed into your fertile womb by the tip of his pink mushroomed tip, his balls making more seed for your perfect pussy, and he was claiming your spent body with everything he had. <33
#coriolanus snow#coriolanus snow x reader#Coriolanus snow x fem! reader#dark! Coriolanus snow#coriolanus snow smut#coriolanus snow fanfic#Tom blyth#coriolanus snow blurb#the hunger games#thg#the ballad of songs and snakes#the ballad of songs and snakes fanfic#the hunger games fanfiction
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I'm in a spooky vibe rn and I've been thinking about one of the enha members (hyung line) with a scream mask ( y'know from the movie sjshsj) about to m*rder reader but idk they get turned on and both got freaky 🫦
fffuuuuccccckkkk anon your brain is 😍 love this idea so much (fun fact scream is my favorite slasher movie and I even have a ghost face tattoo) I hope this is exactly what you’re looking for🤭 it’s funny because I also main ghost face in dead by daylight so when I saw this request I got SOOOO happy ~ I also made this a lot longer than I expected to but oops🤭🤭
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chill & kill: sim jaeyun
part one of chilling & killing 🔪 | spotify playlist
pairing: jake x afab!reader
word count: 6.4k
You sit up on the couch, eyes widening as you grab the TV remote and turn up the volume.
“The mysterious ghost face kill strikes again, killing two more college students in the library this morning. The bodies were discovered by…”
You quickly shot to your feet, grabbing your jacket and camera and slipping your feet into your boots tying them quickly as you slipped out your dorm door.
You never were so happy to live on campus as you ran from the dorm building and across campus to the library. Students surrounded the main entrance and you pushed your way through finally seeing the inside of the library.
“Hey!” a police officer yelled at you when you slipped under the caution tape, “You can’t be back here!”
You eyed him, pulling out your student journaling ID, “I have every right to be here.”
The officer tried to protest, but you kept your stride, making your way to the bodies ignoring the yelling officer behind you.
The closer you got, the more the smell of blood filled your senses, making your skin crawl. Your journaling partner was already on the scene, standing at the edge of the other caution tape marking off the two bodies.
You stood beside him, your heart sinking as you took in the bodies of the two females lying dead in front of you. They were just freshmen. Barely made it into college and fully started their lives.
From what you could see, they were stabbed multiple times in the chest and abdomen. One of their necks was slit, and the other looked like they were stabbed through their throat. They suffered, for sure.
“Who found them?” you asked him, taking your eyes off the dead bodies and turning to your partner. He had one arm crossed over his chest and gripped his elbow as his other arm was reached up and fingers gripping his chin.
He slowly tilted his head to look at you, streaks of his black hair fell into his eyes, “Funny enough,” he sighs, “Sunghoon and myself.”
You completely turned your whole body to him, “That’s why you’re here before me?! Jake, what happened?!”
Jake chucked, “You're more worried that I was here before you?” you narrowed your eyes at him, and he sighed again, completely wrapping his arms over his chest, looking back at the bodies. You could have sworn you saw a sparkle glint in his eyes. Jake has always been excited to be on the scene, same as you. But he enjoyed it a little bit more than you. He’ll make one damn good detective one day for sure, “Wanted to check out a book and saw the door already unlocked for the campus not even fully being opened yet. And that's when we found the bodies.”
“Where is Sunghoon now?” you asked, looking around the library, spotting him with the librarian and being questioned by a detective.
You went to walk over, to ask him questions, but Jake stopped you, putting a hand on your shoulder and pulling you towards him, his arm wrapping around over your chest, “Don’t question him, he’s really shaken up,” You wanted to protest, only for Jake to squeeze you tightly against him, your back pressing further into his chest, “Please, YN, he’s my best friend. I’ll take care of it. I promise.”
You sigh and nod. Letting Jake take the lead with this one.
But you still had a job to do. So you pulled out your camera, taking a few photos. Once you finished with the photos, you pulled your journal from your back pocket, asked Jake a few questions, and took his account down then turned back to the bodies and took your own notes.
You circled the area, taking in every inch and piece of information you could. Jotting down everything in your little notebook.
Jake kept his eyes on you, watching you do your thing. His eyes sparkled more the longer his eyes lingered on you. He eventually dropped his gaze and went back to looking at his best friend, watching as he sat at one of the tables, knees pressed to his chest and hands curled into his hair. The small smile Jake had fell at the sight of his best friend and—
“Jake!” You called for him, bringing his attention back to you, “I think I found something.”
“Oh?” He walks over to you and kneels down on the floor beside you, your camera resting on your knees as you point your finger toward one of the dead girls, “What am I looking at honey?”
You groaned and rolled your eyes, “Under her body, there’s a black glove,” you looked at Jake. His jaw clenched tightly, “The killer must have accidentally lost it, dropped it, or whatever. Maybe she fought them or something. I don’t know. But I want to figure it out.”
You took a few close-up photos of the glove and turned back around to show Jake, noticing a scratch mark sliding down the left side of his neck. You hadn’t seen it before since you were standing on his right side, but it looked deep and irritated, “What happened there?” You reached up to touch it, but he grabbed your hand quickly and set it down at your side.
“Hoon and I were wrestling earlier at our apartment and I hit the side of our entertainment center, I am fine.”
You thinned your lips into a line, boys will be boys you guess. Their apartment was a lot smaller than the dorms on campus, they must have been fucking around at a good spot to have knocked Jake into their entertainment center.
Eventually, the police shooed you and Jake off the scene. Forcing you two to head to the journaling office. You printed off the photos you took and made copies of your notes, passing them to Jake.
You glanced at the clock, it was now ten thirty am and classes would be resuming like normal, so you and Jake went your separate ways.
Jake was still new to being a journalist. You were a club of two, consisting of just you and another girl who helped write the articles for you while you took care of the rest. She wrote her own things, mostly on the sports or other small crimes that happen on campus, but with the ghost face killer making his rounds, you took up the role of this case with her helping on the side. At first, you took it all on yourself, but as the body count started piling up, you needed the help. So you let her help and put out an application for an extra set of hands, which Jake answered.
You’ve seen him around campus before he joined you. Was born and raised in this town. Being the town's sweetheart and golden puppy boy. You did some research on him before allowing him into your club, can’t have the killer join you, right?
He was the captain of his soccer team in middle and high school. Has taken his school’s team to the championships multiple times and was the heartthrob of the school. He donated to charity when he could and volunteered at the police station on the weekends in hopes of landing a good detective job there after graduation. He was the whole definition of a straight-A good boy student. Perfect for your team. He became your partner and you taught him everything you knew. When Jake joined, the body count from this ghost face killer was only three. But with the two bodies that were found today, it was now at fifteen.
In between your classes, you found yourself back at the club office, pinning the new photos to the corkboard in the back of the room, wrapping red string between the pushpins and possible suspects. After staring at the corkboard for what felt like hours, the other female club member came in and you helped her write the article. Give her your notes and advising as she writes.
Jake popped in and out of the office as well, brainstorming with you about the suspects and the time of events that happened. You both spun in circles that led to nowhere. You ask Jake again about speaking to Sunghoon, and he shoots you down, “Give him some time. I’ll get the police report soon and it’ll help, I am sure.”
A week has gone by since the murder in the library. You ended up shifting the corkboard from the office and into the corner of your kitchen, using the fluorescent light of the kitchen bulbs to light the board more. You leaned against the back of your couch, it being the furthest you could step away from the board. Biting at your nails as your eyes scanned every murder case. Every newspaper article and police report on the board.
Nothing made sense. Nothing connected. Whoever this killer was, they were good. Covered their tracks without so much as a piece of hair at any scene of their crimes. Until the glove.
You ran your hands into your long hair, scratching at the back of your head. You needed that police report that Jake still has yet to give you. Needed to speak to Sunghoon. There were missing pieces and those two things were important. You looked over to the clock above the kitchen sink. It was almost one thirty in the morning. But you still got up and slid into your sneakers, pulled your jacket on, and bounced out the door.
Finding yourself in front of Jake and Sunghoon’s front door, knocking loudly. There was no answer. So you did the next best thing and called Jake’s cell phone.
There was some shuffling on the other end of the door and a groan. The door opened and you find a half-awake Jake before you, his hair a mess and spreading in every direction, wearing a plain white tee shirt and a pair of black and blue checkered boxers, “YN,” he sleepily growled and then yawned, “It’s almost two am, what is it?”
“Can I have the police report?”
Jake blinked at you, “Huh?”
You crossed your arms, “The police report. Can I have it?”
Jake let out another yawn, “It’s at the school, in the office.”
Of course, it was. And the campus is closed and if you get caught sneaking in just to get a piece of paper…You sigh, “Thanks anyway,” you softly say, and turn around to walk down the stairs but stop, “Can I talk to Sunghoon?”
Jake scoffs, leaning against the doorframe, “It’s almost two am,” he repeats, “Why are you out here so late? There’s a literal killer running around here.”
You knew that. And still took that risk to come out here. The killer had to be a student at your college. Every murder had been college kids. It had to be another student. That’s what made being out here so dangerous.
“I know,” you shrugged, “But I can’t stand by and do nothing.”
Jake frowned, “You know you’re allowed to actually be a college student right? Live a normal life too?” you shrugged again, and he just scoffed again, “YN, go home and rest. Let the detectives with actual badges handle it. We can only do so much.”
You narrow your eyes at him, “Let me speak to Sunghoon.”
Jake stands his ground, “No. Go. Home. Before you get yourself killed.”
You roll your eyes, “See you tomorrow then.”
Jake mimicked your words and watched as you walked down the steps before walking back inside and going back to sleep.
You didn’t understand why Jake was so against you speaking to Sunghoon. Maybe he was being protective? Sunghoon didn’t look the best after finding the bodies. He was probably so shaken up. But it only made you want to speak to him more. And that need only grew more when you noticed Sunghoon’s car wasn’t in its normal parking spot beside Jake’s.
Meaning he wasn’t home.
You’ve respected Jake’s wishes on not to talk to Sunghoon, but this matter was getting serious and Sunghoon just might be the big break you needed. So you quickly walked off the apartment complex, glancing back to make sure Jake was outside, and pulled your phone from your pocket as you kept walking and dialed a number.
“Hello?”
“Sunghoon, where are you right now?”
—
You found him atop the bleachers of the soccer field just like he said he would be. A soccer ball sat between his feet, grass scuff marks were at the ends of his jeans, and sleeves of his hoodie rolled up to his elbows and sweat dripped down the side of his face. It didn’t take a genius to figure out he came here to kick the ball around. Probably as a distraction.
You sat down beside him, “How are you holding up?”
Sunghoon scoffs, “Holding up as in a week ago I found two dead bodies in the middle of the library or holding up because I’ve been questioned left and right by everyone or my best friend/roommate has smothered me to stay home and take time.”
You felt bad for him, mostly for what you’re about to ask him. He wanted to obviously forget what he saw, who could blame him? It takes special people to see a dead body and not be fazed by it.
“I’m sorry for asking you to do this again…”
Sunghoon just shrugs, “If I am being honest, I’ve wanted to talk to you for a while now.”
You raised your brow, “Yeah?”
He nodded, “Jake was against it,” he took a deep breath, “Something was off that day…with him.”
“What do you mean?” You placed a hand on his knee, “You can tell me anything. Start with the beginning.”
Sunghoon looked you in your eyes, then looked off into the distance at the field, “He told me that morning he was meeting our coach, for a one-on-one coaching session. At first, I didn’t think anything about it, being he was a soccer prodigy or whatever.” You nodded, remembering how much of the soccer star Jake was back in high school, “So you could probably understand my surprise when I got a call from our coach saying he tried to get ahold of Jake and then he confirmed with me that they did in fact not have a meeting that day.”
You sat back against the bleacher seat behind you, staring off onto the field, letting the gears in your brain slowly turn, waiting for Sunghoon to continue.
“I got scared, rushing out of the apartment and searching everywhere for him. Scared and thinking I was going to find my best friend murdered somewhere, ya know?” You understood, with this killer on the loose everyone was watching their backs and afraid. Who would be next? Who is next? “But I found him, lingering around the library building, digging through his soccer duffle bag. My heart almost stopped when I saw him…alive,” he took a deep breath, “So I confronted him, and he played it off that he did have a practice, but was with his coach from high school.”
You looked back at him, to read his face. Seeing how pale his skin was becoming, “I believed him at first, thinking maybe I misheard that morning. So we started walking back, but he kept digging through the duffle bag, looking frantic. He wasn’t acting himself. Said something about needing to go to the library, about finding a book or something, and then took off. But I followed after him. I didn’t want to leave him alone, not with ghost face running around. But when I got to the library, I…couldn’t find him. I saw him go through the back door instead of the front. But once I walked in and noticed all the doors were already unlocked…then I found the bodies.”
You squeezed his knee, “It’s okay.”
He nodded, swallowing and looking down at the soccer ball, “I smelt the blood first and then noticed their bodies. And then…then there were footsteps behind me and I knew that I was next. But the library walked in through the front entrance and started screaming, her eyes darting to me, saying we did it. I turned around to see Jake standing behind me. His skin was pale and sweaty. Eyes wide as he stared back at me and then at the bodies and the librarian. He’s never been surprised to see the bodies. He’s been working with you for over half a year. So when I saw the look on his face…the surprise that was there.”
You opened your mouth to speak, but Sunghoon kept going, “The weirdest thing is his duffle bag was missing from his shoulder,” Sunghoon scoffs, “How did it just disappear.” It was a good question. A very good one. “He hasn’t been the same since then.”
You tried to lighten the mood, “Maybe you knocked something loose in his head when the two of you wrestled the other day.” Sunghoon gave you a confused look, “You know? He said you two got too close to your TV stand and he got scuffed up by the edge of it. Making a scratch on his neck,” you pointed to the right side, tracing a finger down the side of your neck to mimic where Jake has his slowly fading scar now, “It’s right here.”
Sunghoon raised a brow, “I don’t know what you’re talking about. We haven’t wrestled inside the apartment.” Your smile faded. Sunghoon’s phone started vibrating and he pulled it from his pocket, seeing Jake’s caller ID on the screen, “Guess he noticed I wasn’t home.” Sunghoon locked his phone, ignoring the call, “I haven’t been telling him when I’ve left the apartment. So I better prepare myself with a talk when I get back.” He stood up and started walking down the bleachers, “Thank you for listening to me, I don’t want to suspect my best friend, and it probably isn’t even him. He’s just weird, I guess.”
You watched as he disappeared before standing up and finally finding yourself back at your dorm and in bed. Replaying Sunghoon’s story over and over, trying to piece it all together. It still didn’t make sense. None of it did. Nevertheless, it didn’t stop you from texting Jake, asking him to meet you at your dorm as soon as he could tomorrow, and him responding he had soccer practice but would be here right after.
—
“You should really keep your front door locked, YN, there’s a killer out there.” Jake teased you as he made himself at home, dropping his duffle bag into a chair at your kitchen table, his eyes going to the corkboard, “Make any progress yet?”
You stared down at the duffle bag quickly before looking up at him, then back to the board, “No I haven’t. I left my door unlocked on purpose. Knew you’d be coming here.”
Jake smiled at you and stood beside you at the back of your couch, looking at the board, “We’ll catch him, don’t worry honey.”
You glanced at him slightly, your heart winced at the nickname he’d given you. You looked to his neck, seeing the scratch still healing but faded, being nothing more than a pink line.
Jake looked down at you, giving a smile, “Can I freshen up in your bathroom? I bet I don’t smell the greatest from practice.”
You scrunch your nose, “Yes, please. You smell.”
Jake just rolls his eyes playfully and slides his hand up and down your back quickly before leaving your side, “I’m stealing your deodorant.”
You waited until you saw him turn the corner and heard the bathroom door close and lock before slowly walking to his duffle bag.
You didn’t want to suspect Jake anymore than Sunghoon did. But his story last night didn’t add up. No part of it did. Jake’s actions didn’t add up. Jake’s story he gave you didn’t match Sunghoon’s or the librarian's. None of the pieces were adding up no matter how much you tried to force the pieces together.
You looked down the hallway, then back at the bag, and slowly unzipped it, your hand flying to your mouth quickly to stop any noise from coming out. You took a couple of deep breaths and continued looking into the bag.
The police report you asked for along with the glove from the scene of the crime was in the bag in a ziplock bag. Along with the other matching glove and the ghost face mask and the black suit. You pulled the mask out of the bag with shaky hands. Why did Jake have these items? You knew. You knew why and still tried to find another explanation. But after seeing the contents of his bag…the pieces of the puzzle fit. Everything clicked and made sense.
“Don’t you know it’s rude to go through people’s things, honey?” before you could move, a knife was pressed to your neck and his other arm was wrapped around your waist, “I expected better from you than to snoop around.”
Jake’s hot breath was hitting your ear, sending chills down your spine. Any doubts you had were now out the window. Jake is ghost face. Jake is the killer.
“Keeping secrets is very rude too,” you retorted back, dropping the mask back into his bag, “But I figured you already knew that I found out, hint why you leave your bag so easily for me to look through.”
Jake chuckles, squeezing his arm around you and pressing the knife further against your skin, “Can’t get anything past you, can I?”
“Why?” you asked, tilting your head at the movement of him brushing the side of his face to yours.
“Why did I do it?” he nuzzled his nose on the shell of your ear, “You’ll need to be specific, honey.”
You swallowed, “Everything.”
Jake chuckles again, “Because it’s fun.” It was such a simple yet spine-chilling answer, “You think I played this fucking good boy persona because I actually wanted to? No, no. I had to play that persona. To hide my secret. This is all a game to me, YN.”
“It’s why you joined our club,” you swallowed again, “To make it harder for us to figure you out.”
Jake shrugs, gently biting at the shell of your ear then rubbing his nose against it again, “I thought it would add to the fun, honestly. Yeah having an inside made it so much easier. It covered my tracks well. Until you started picking up on every. Fucking. Thing.” he hissed, tightening his grip, “You made it harder to cover up my tracks. Picking apart every smallest thing with each murder. I was lucky you didn’t suspect me, that was until you started poking your nose more into my business, you don’t think I didn’t know you tore the office apart looking for the police report before coming to my apartment? That you talked to Sunghoon even after I told you not to?”
“You have our phones and the office bugged,” this should surprise you, but it doesn’t. It made sense.
He pressed his lips to your ear, “Smart girl. Think I wouldn’t bug your phone? Or my best friends?”
“Jake, you were going to kill him, weren’t you.”
Another low chuckle, “Yes,” your body stilled, feeling cold, “It would have been a pity, really, to kill off my best friend all because he also stuck his nose where he shouldn’t have.”
You looked down at his bag, seeing the bag gloved, “You went back to the library for the glove, you fucked up.”
He growled in your ear, “Shut up! That bitch fought me instead of taking it. I didn’t even realize my glove was gone until after I murdered them both and fled the scene. That’s when Sunghoon showed up. I knew I had to go back and find where the fuck my glove went before someone else did. I didn’t know he was following me until I went to go back and check the bodies after tearing apart the other side of the library and saw him standing there. I quietly set my bag in one of the reading rooms and locked the door, slipping my knife into the back of my jeans. Preparing myself to kill my best friend.”
“All to keep your fucking secret,” you snapped at him, his hands on your body getting tighter.
“Watch it, honey,” he hissed, “You do have a knife to your throat right now.”
“She fought you right? Probably knocked off your mask too. She saw your face, and you acted quickly and sliced her throat. Not before she left her own scratch on your neck.”
Jake nodded, a wide smile on his face, “Nothing gets past you. You’d make a great detective someday, honey.”
You needed to turn him in. Needed to get out of here and turn him in before he could kill anyone else. Fifteen. He’s murdered fifteen people. Probably more before he took up the ghost face mantle.
Jake pressed his chest to your back, “You know,” he whispers, “I’ve dreamed about doing this with you, my knife to your throat,” he rocked his hips against your ass, “It’s so fucking hot.”
It was now or never. You tilted your head to the side, taking the skin of his forearm between your teeth and biting hard.
“Fuck!” he shouted, his hand flexing and dropping the knife to the floor and his grip on you loosening.
You pushed him back with your back and sent him falling to his ass. You barely made it two steps away from him before both of his hands were on your ankles, tripping you to the floor and pulling you towards him.
You kicked your legs but not getting out of his strong grip. Jake worked fast to flip you over onto your back, his hands now at your wrists and holding them up and above your hand, pinning them to the floor. He straddled you, locking his legs around yours to keep you from wiggling them.
“Stop fighting me!” he growled, using all his weight to pin you to the floor.
You stopped, chest rising and falling as you stared up at his beautiful killing face.
He held your wrists down with one hand and reached for his knife with the other, chuckling as he once again held the knife to your throat, “You look so pretty like this baby, all underneath me like this.”
Jake was so turned on by this. He’s only dreamed of having you pinned underneath him with his favorite weapon against your skin. Dreamed what you’d sound and look like. This passed his expectations. It went even further than that. His cock twitched in his pants seeing the look of anger all over your face.
“You get horny every time you kill someone?” you spat out at him, the fire in your eyes burning.
Jake cocked his head, “You’re not afraid of me?”
“Why would I be afraid of a horn dog who likes killing people?”
Jake laughs, adjusting his legs from yours, using his knees to spread your legs apart, sliding himself between them, “Baby, you’re the only one I’ve ever got horny over. The others were just killings to kill. But you? You do something to me.”
From the moment Jake first saw you on campus he wanted to be buried balls deep in your cunt. Wanted to fuck you so hard as he softly made cuts on your arms to watch you bleed as your moans of pain and pleasure filled his ear holes. Wanted to cum so deep within you and make you his.
He had more than just joined the club to hide his killings as his reason. He wanted to get closer to you, get to know you. Then kill you after he got his dick wet. But what he didn’t expect was you figuring him out so soon. His plans got pushed up. He wanted you afraid of him as he killed you. He didn’t expect you to look at him with fury, so unafraid.
Jake leaned down, being inches away from your face, the knife pressing harder against your neck, “You get me so hard,” he rocked his hips between you, his hard cock rubbing against your clothed cunt. You tried to not whimper, to keep your firm face, but the effect he was having on you down south was obvious. He wasn’t stupid, you knew that.
You’d be lying if you said you haven’t been crushing on Jake since he walked into the club for the first time. How couldn’t you? He was perfect. Still was as he sat atop you with a knife to your neck.
You relaxed your body, “If you’re going to kill me, then do it.”
Jake smiled, “Want me to?” He released your hands from his grip and slid the knife from your neck and down to your shirt, his free hand looping his fingers at the collar, using the knife to cut a line, tearing the fabric and exposing your laced bra and skin. Jake tucked his lip between his teeth. Fuck you looked so much better than what you did in his dreams. So much better than he imagined. He slid the tip of the knife down your chest, rounding it around your breast and down your sternum, “Where should I start?” He placed both hands at the sides of your head and bent down, lips brushing against yours, “Tell me, baby.”
You lifted your head, connecting your lips to his. Taking in the taste of his cherry chapstick and the softness of his lips. He rocked his hips against yours, moaning into your mouth, “Start by taking the rest of my clothes off.”
He laughs against your lips and then pulls away, setting the knife down at your side to pull his famous white tee shirt off his body, “Yeah?” you nodded, eyes darting to his bare chest and abs, “So fucking dirty,” he cooed, “Should have known you were into killers.”
You sat up on your elbows, ready to reach for the button of his jeans, but found the knife back in his hand and the tip pointing at your chest, “Lay back down, baby, no need to be so impatient.”
His free hand touched your shoulder and gently pressed you back to the floor. You kept your eyes on him as he unbuttoned his jeans, the knife still in hand as he wiggled out of his jeans and boxers, leaving him bare to you.
You watched as he took his length between his fingers, slowly pumping himself, him biting his lips. You were growing too impatient. Needing to feel him against you, in you, “Jake,”
“Shhh, honey,” he whispers, dropping his hands to your shorts, “I know.”
The cool metal of the knife brushed your skin as he pulled your shorts and panties down your thighs. Goosebumps formed on your skin and making Jake chuckle, enjoying this more than he’d thought, “You love the way my knife feels against you?” He tossed your clothing somewhere off into the void of the room, settling himself back between your legs, his tip prodding your entrance, “love the way it feels to glide against your skin?” He sent the knife sliding up your tummy, his hips pushing his cock in your pussy, slowly stretching you.
Jake bottomed out, the tip of his cock kissing your cervix. He hissed out in pure pleasure of finally being buried so deep inside you, the pleasure of how fucking good you felt wrapped around him, “fuck baby,” he smiles, sliding the knife to your waist, wanting to cut open your skin and see how pretty your blood would look pooling out, “feel so good and I’m not even moving.”
You bucked your hips up against him, wanting to feel any kind of friction. Jake drops the knife to the floor, his hands pinning your arms above your head again, “I told you to stop being so impatient.”
“Jae, please,” you begged, wrapping your legs around his waist, “I need you.”
Hearing you beg for him had him gone and all he cared about now was fucking you. To make you feel so good until you’re cumming around his dick.
Jake started out slow, burying his face in your neck, “Why aren’t you afraid, hmm? I could kill you right now.”
You leaned into him, squeezing your legs tighter on him to push him even further into you, “Because I have secrets of my own.”
Jake chuckled, bucking his hips harder and faster into yours, his lips pressing to yours. Tongue sliding down your throat and exploring your mouth. One hand leaving yours to cup your breast, his thumb and index finger pinching your nipple, “Tell me your secrets.”
“You already seem to know them all, stalker,” you hissed, throwing your head back against the floor at him pinching your nipple harder in the same movement of him pushing his dick hard against your cervix, pressing so hard to break whatever barrier that was stopping him from completely filling you whole as his hip bones knocked against yours.
“Tell me anyway,” he whispers between kisses, now sliding his mouth down to your ear, licking the shell of it, “I don’t know what you haven’t texted or physically talked about.”
“I have feelings for you,” you felt insane saying it out loud. Felt crazy that you even admitted it to him. To the person who was fucking you into pure bliss. To a murderer, “I’m obsessed with you, Jake.”
Jake bit down into your neck, both of his hands sliding underneath you to wrap at your shoulders, fucking his hips against you faster. His teeth sank into your skin tearing it slightly, a small sprinkle of blood escaping.
“Fuckkkk,” he moans, tasting the brassy liquid on his tongue, “Even your blood tastes good.”
He was fucking crazy. You knew he was. But everything about him drew you to him. Made you want him more.
And him hearing how obsessed you were with him made him even crazier about you.
“Such a good girl,” he cooed, “Letting me fuck you like this, looking so pretty for me this way.” He bucked his hips faster, adjusting his legs on the floor to spread yours even wider, giving him more access to hit your weak spots and to hit them just right.
You pulled at his hair, “Jake!” you moaned out his name, the knot in your stomach threatening to snap, “I’m going…fuck…I’m going to cum.”
“Please,” he groaned, “Cum for me baby,” he sticks his tongue out, flattening it against the bite he left on your shoulder, licking up the new blood that pooled out, “fucking cum around my cock for me, honey.”
A few more thrusts and you came around him. Tingles spread throughout your body at the feeling of your release. Jake moans at feeling the mess you’ve made on his cock, him working his dick faster in your cunt to chase out the release he wants. The one he’s dreamed about having with you. His hand only did so much for him with his thoughts while back at his apartment. But now he was balls deep in your sweet pussy, having you right where he wanted you.
“Gonna cum soon,” he panted, hands squeezing your shoulders, “fuck I want to cum in this cunt so bad.”
You pulled at his hair harder, the overstimulation hitting you hard, “Jae, I can’t—“
“I know, baby,” he pressed his forehead against yours, his brows furrowing and eyes shut tightly, “Going to fill this pussy to the brim, understand? This pussy is mine.”
Jake pressed a kiss to your lips and lifted up, taking your legs and pressing them to your chest, pistoning into you faster but sloppy, “Shit,” he hissed, “Fixing to cum—fuck—I’m cumming, honey, I’m cum—“ one final thrust, and his white ropes spilled into you. He pressed his hips against you and held them there, making sure every last drop of his cum made it deep within, none to be wasted.
“Fuck,” he cursed, slowly lifting himself back up and dropping your legs back to the floor, “Sex with you was so much better than in my head. I only dreamt how good this pussy would feel. How good it’d feel to cum in you.”
Jake was definitely more obsessed with you than you were with him. And he honestly didn’t care how obvious it was.
“Fuck I am in love with you.” he chuckles, his hands rubbing up and down your thighs.
You tilted your head to the side, seeing the knife sitting there idle. Jake clocked where your eyes landed, but he wasn’t fast enough as you quickly grabbed it, being the one who now held the knife to his throat, the fire in your eyes back.
Jake might have just came, but his dick twitched and hardened again between the walls of your fuck hole. His crazy smile is so wide and his eyes so lustful. Seeing you so ready to end him right here and now made him crazier. Made him crave you even more.
He wouldn’t kill you now. No, no. How could he kill the love of his life? How could he slide that knife into your skin and cut you open? You were precious to him, more than what he thought before. Maybe the sex drew him in, but you weren’t getting away from him that easily.
“Awe, babe,” he cooed, taking your wrist in his hand and slowly removing the knife from your hand, “This is how this will go now,” he tossed the knife across the room and out of reach, pinning your arms back to the floor, slowly rocking his hips, “You will keep your fucking mouth shut, got it? Close this ghost face case and if anyone asks you don’t know anything about it. Give it up. All for me, okay baby?”
You nodded, not being able to say no to those brown eyes. It was toxic, whatever relationship you just found yourself in. You became that girl in books and movies who fell for the killer. It surprises you at how fast you were willing to drop everything for him. To keep his secret.
He kisses you gently and fucked you on the floor until you both came again and again and again.
What did you get yourself into?
— perm taglist: @alvojake @ikeuverse @woniebae @shawnyle @kangnina @jwnghyuns @in-somnias-world @zyvlxqht @aaa-sia @wonniethepoo @addictedtohobi @eneiyri @sparklovespink @skzenhalove @fakeuwus @cherry-park @vousty @ladyartemesia @psh9 @cmoundiamante @enhaverse713586 @wondipity @lhsvibez
#yeonzzzn asks#— 🔪 anon#jake bby#jake sim#sim jake#sim jaeyun#sim jake smut#sim jaeyun smut#enhypen#enhypen fanfic#enhypen fanfiction#enhypen imagines#enhypen scenarios#enhypen smut#enhypen hard thoughts#ghostface au#enhypen hard hours#yeonzzzn writing#ghostface!jake
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chicken shop date | ln
the one where your boyfriend gets invited to the chicken shop date and you’re not really happy about it.
lando norris x gender-neutral!reader
word count: ~1.1k
warnings: just reader being a tiny bit jealous and insecure & fluff at the end
note: based on this request. took me a little longer than it should had but i wanted to watch the interview before to know how to approach it, but hope you enjoy it!
"i'm just not really fond of the idea!" you huffed, sinking further into your boyfriend's couch, dramatically crossing your arms under your chest with pouty lips.
your reaction got a laugh out of lando and he let his body plop down next to you, looking over at your saddened expression with a soft smile on his lips.
"baby, come on. i'm gonna be late," he cooed, his fingers trying to reach for your chin to get you to look at him so he could give you a kiss goodbye, but you easily managed to turn your face in the opposite direction before his lips could touch yours.
this gesture got a sigh out of lando, making him drop his hand to your lap in defeat.
"it's gonna be alright," he said, his voice still sweet as he tried te reassure you, knowing that under your over dramatic reaction lied the anxiety of him getting even more popular.
just the previous evening, his team had informed him that he was scheduled for a new interview in the morning. when he finished telling you all about it after hanging up the phone, your eyebrows were furrowed and the pout you made hadn't left your face since that very moment.
the chicken shop date.
you usually watched the show, so you knew how big of an audience it had. it wasn't the fake dating part that worried you, but the huge amount of fans it would get him.
it was a little stupid, you knew, considering that he was one of the most popular faces of the sport. but you couldn't help the little insecurities that surfaced from time to time, thinking that he could find someone to replace you at any given minute.
lando's hand squeezed yours softly, making you get out of your mind and look back at him. he knew what you were thinking, so he gave you a reassuring smile before bringing your hand up to his lips and pressed a gentle kiss to your knuckles. so you gave in.
"just don't be funny. or nice," you said, trying your best to forget about your worries and trust that nothing would change. "don't be cute, either."
"i can do that," lando chuckled, and with your hand still in his, he leaned closer to you to finally peck your lips.
"good, cause i don't want to share my boyfriend with any more people," you added, making him smile as he pulled away and got up from his spot next to you.
he found your overprotectiveness rather cute sometimes, and every single time he tried to comfort you, reminding you that you were the only one he wanted.
with your little act over, you looked up at his figure in front of you as he gathered his things before leaving the house. he looked extra good; you had noticed how the color of his hoodie was bringing out the blue of his eyes a few minutes earlier and how his curls were still a little damp from his shower, one of them perfectly falling over his forehead.
he turned to look at you one last time, leaning to kiss your forehead and whisper an "i love you" before he left the apartment in a rush, your little tantrum surely making him arrive a good couple of minutes late.
୨୧
lando had asked you to join him in australia so you could spend a few days exploring the city before he had to go back to work. and naturally, you had accepted.
as any other day, you woke up in his arms, limbs tangled under the bedsheets and your cheek softly pressed against his bare chest.
you lazily turned around, trying not to wake him up, to reach for your phone to check the time. that was your intention, but as you saw your phone blowing up with notifications, you remembered.
the episode had come out only a few hours earlier.
not wanting to spoil yourself scrolling on social media, you quickly opened youtube and looked it up, feeling a little uneasy once again. you weren't sure what you could expect, lando hadn't said much about it when he returned home that day.
you couldn't help the smile that creeped up to your lips the second he appeared on your screen, his soft spoken voice warming your heart and making you snuggle closer to him, your back against his chest now.
you felt the grip around your waist getting a little tighter, his knees tucking behind yours.
"are you serious?" his voice was hoarse, his breath on your skin as he hid his face on your neck.
"you didn't think i wouldn't watch, did you?" you giggled when he pulled you closer to him, only getting a soft groan from his lips as an answer.
he didn't say anything else, just kept pressing soft kissis to your skin as you finished watching the interview, your smile growing wider at his shyness.
once you were done, you put your phone down and turned around to face him again. your eyes met his under the soft morning light, the corners of your lips moving upwards at the beautiful sight in front of you.
"it wasn't that bad now, was it?" he whispered, clearly referring to your tantrum the day of the filming.
"it was fun," you admitted, running your fingers through his curls slowly.
he hummed, letting his eyelids flutter close once again at your touch.
"i'm still not happy about sharing my boyfriend with new people," you playfully added after a few seconds, the little pout on your lips, but lando was quick to kiss it away. "and i could've asked you those questions myself," you sassed, making him roll his eyes with a chuckle at your words.
"maybe you should go on a date with me if you want to ask me those questions so bad," he said, trying to nuzzle his face on your neck again to hide his smirk.
"smooth," you giggled, wrapping one of your legs around his body and pulling him a little closer to yours. "i'd love to go on a date with you, baby."
he smiled at your murmured answer, kissing your jaw before mumbling himself, "tomorrow night then?"
with a slight nod of your head, you hummed and let your eyes shut close to enjoy a couple more minutes in bed with your boyfriend before the alarm went off.
#lando norris#lando norris fluff#lando norris smut#lando norris blurb#lando norris drabble#lando norris fanfic#lando norris imagine#lando norris x reader#lando norris x you#f1 x reader#f1 fanfic#ln4#ln4 x reader#ln4 imagine#ln4 fic
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Joel Miller x f!reader
Rating: E
A/N: Thank you to the incomparable @bageldaddy who not only looked this over for me, but who also inspired the entire idea by being such a inspiring, delicious Joel Miller whore. This one is for you ❤
--
“Stop squirmin’,” he scolds, a hard hand on your hip.
You’re trying not to, but tension builds between your bodies, the solid wall of his chest rising and falling along your spine. So close you can feel heat leeching through his clothes, his warm breath skims along the nape of your neck and a damp throb beats thick and distracting between your legs.
Slow, steady breaths are all you have, and so you take them.
In and out. In and out.
His hips shift when he zips up the sleeping bag along the side and when his lap nudges you from behind, you hold your breath and clench your eyes tight, your thighs squeezing together.
The masculine scent pressed into his clothing fills your senses, the strength in his solid form enveloping you in a protective press when he slings his arm around you in an attempt to get comfortable, and struggling to quell the need building deep between your hips, you squirm.
Waiting a beat, you do it again.
“Come on now,” he scolds, impatience slipping into his tone. “I know it’s not ideal, but it’s all we got. You need more room, or somethin’?”
That drawl of his is driving you crazy, just as arousing as the constant frown you know he has on his face right now. His sternness shouldn’t turn you on as much as it does, and yet it constantly plagues you: is he always this stern? In every situation?
“No, I’m good,” you reply, letting out a sigh.
You’re really not, but in order for you to be okay, he’d have to be outside the sleeping bag, and so you try to still yourself again, focusing on the sounds of the night.
Weeks spent traveling together, it’s now a familiar background that often lulls you to sleep: the soft chirp of crickets, the rustling of leaves, the creaking of trees as they sway gently in the breeze. Up until now, you’d gotten away with sleeping separately on the ground but tonight marks the first truly cold one of the season and when he rolled out the single sleeping bag, you bit your lip.
“It’s a double,” he said gruffly, kneeling to spread it out. “Plus, it’s all we have.”
You knew it would be a tight fit, but this is unbearable.
His hand twitches, the heavy weight of it brushing just underneath your breasts and your nipples tighten into sensitive peaks underneath your layers. His hand is so close, you can’t help but imagine how it would feel if he slid it up just enough to touch you.
Taking another slow breath, you try not to move.
“You sure we can’t light a fire?” you ask.
“Now why am I gonna tell you no?” He sounds exasperated, a tone he uses more often than not with you.
The closeness of his mouth to your ear has his deep voice sending a shiver through your torso every time he speaks and needing him to be quiet if you’re going to survive this night, you don’t answer.
He lifts his knees, the front of his thighs coming in contact with the back of yours and the brush of his lap against your ass has you biting back a moan that almost crawls out of your throat. You fit the cradle of it perfectly, and if you really focus, you swear you can feel him through your layers of clothing.
With that image filling your mind, you try to press your thighs together in hopes of relieving the ache between them, but not only does the squirming ratchet the heat higher, it earns you another scold.
“You gotta stop.”
A slight plea to his words, his hand settles on your hip again, but this time his fingers accidentally brush the hem of your shirt up in his haste to stop you from moving and you bite your lip at the warm, dry heat of his palm on your bare skin. All sensation centers on that point of contact, and you feel a fresh wave of dampness creep into the crotch of your underwear.
“Sorry,” you apologize quietly.
Restless with want, arousal blooms through your system: starting slick and sticky between your thighs, it spreads low and heavy between your hips, travels with tingling heat through the tips of your breasts, and envelopes your head in a dazed cloud of need. You close your eyes, attempting to will it away, but it only makes all your other senses heighten.
You feel his presence even more: the weight of his arm around you, the damp heat of his mouth near the delicate skin of your neck, the sound of his breathing. Moving on their own accord, your hips shift again, connecting with his and he lets out a sigh.
“You sleepin’ on a rock, or somethin’?” he asks, propping himself up on his elbow. Taking the space he’s left, you roll onto your back to face him and instant recognition registers on his face. He frowns, his stern expression causing another wave of sticky wetness to gather between your thighs.
“That why you’re so squirrelly?” The register of his voice has dropped lower, more intimate in the darkness yet no less forgiving. “If so, you’ll just have to deal with it later. You ain’t the only one who’s uncomfortable here.”
Your eyes drop down from his face to where you think his crotch must be, automatically seeking confirmation of his words as if you could actually see anything and his head tilts in silent reprimand at the action, his frown deepening.
“I told you no.”
He did. He said it weeks ago after you kissed him by the fire, again after you took his hands in yours and pressed them along your body in the saddle, again after you kissed him with urgency after a close call in the last town. Every one of those times he responded with his own need: blatant and wanting, all low groans and rough lips and hands and touches, until he pulled himself back.
“Wouldn’t be right,” he said.
“I’d be takin’ advantage of you,” he said.
Like you didn’t know your own body. Like you couldn’t make up your own mind.
He looks down at you for a long moment, the silence heavy between you in your wordless standoff and right when he’s about to lay back down, you speak.
“Please.”
You almost don’t recognize your voice with how helpless it sounds, breathless with need.
Dark eyes searching yours, they study your own for a weighted beat and the thing that’s been growing for weeks between your bodies pulls taut: a string, ready to snap.
You throb and ache, squirming next to him. So, so empty.
“If I do it, you’ll go to sleep?”
“I promise,” you hastily agree.
His jaw shifts under his sparse beard, his expression contemplative and then his eyes scan the darkness around you for a moment, making sure it’s all clear.
“Undo your pants.”
You’ve never obeyed a command faster in your life, already reaching under the covers to fumble with your belt. Your fingers trembling, his dark eyes drag down the parts of you he can see and his hand covers yours, stopping you.
“So needy.” The words are said to himself with a slight shake of his head that has you squirming again, and he pushes your hands out of the way, making room for his own. There is a weighted feel to them against your skin where his knuckles brush against your belly, his fingers working open the button of your jeans and you let out a shuddering breath, the liquid heat between your thighs flaring bright.
Jeans open for his access, he keeps his eyes on your face when he slowly slips his hand down the front of them, pushing beneath the band of your underwear. When his fingers find the damp, warm heat that greets him, a pained look crosses over his features.
“So fuckin’ wet, and I ain’t even hardly touched you yet.”
He is touching you, you want to argue, but the words are caught in your mouth when he slides his hold lower, his broad hand cupping you wholly between your legs. The thick tips of his fingers press heavily against your entrance, and you widen your legs to give him more room.
“Goddamn,” he breathes out, swallowing hard.
His middle finger dips into your slick seam, immediate wetness covering the digit before he drags it through your folds with a testing stroke and your back nearly arches off the ground, needing so much more yet not being able to breathe with what he is doing. He slips it inside you, just down to the second knuckle, and then he’s sliding his soaked finger up to your clit, finding it with ease.
Your hips jerk up to meet it, the calloused pad of his finger providing instant relief. Your head falls back, your throat straining with the effort to be quiet.
“Feels good, huh.”
There is a smugness to his tone that you think faintly should bother you, but it doesn’t. Instead, your body responds in a wholly different way, wanting nothing more to find out what else he seemingly already knows about how to make you feel good.
“Tell me, or I stop.”
The harsher tone of his words brings you back to the present, and you frantically nod, eager to obey.
“Yes. Yes, it feels good.” The roughed pad of his middle finger is swirling firm, neat circles just over your clit, the texture and intensity just right and when you answer him, he rewards you with a second finger. Arching your hips into it, your mouth drops open, a silent cry forming in your throat.
“That’s my girl,” he praises, his hooded eyes looking down at you.
His fingers speed up, quickly slipping down between your thighs to coat his fingers with arousal before bringing them back up again and your hands find his wrist beneath the sleeping bag, holding on while he swirls, swirls, swirls.
So wet you can hear it, you’re sticky and slick underneath his touch, and it’s almost clinical with how quickly he’s going to make you come. Your thighs starting to tremble, his dark eyes never leave your face and chasing his touch, you focus on the centered need he’s building deep within you.
Still so empty you could cry, your breasts tighten under your sweatshirt, and when you imagine how the cold air would feel on them paired with the contrast of his hot, wet mouth, you pull tight with your release, your hand tightening in its hold on his wrist.
“It’s –,” you beg him, “I’m so close.”
Your mouth slack as his thick, calloused fingers work, work, work, he dips his head, his mouth resting just beside your ear.
“Come on, honey. Just give it to me. I know you want to.”
The rough rasp of his voice is deep enough to pierce through the fog he’s built in your brain, your fingers curling into the front of his shirt to hold onto something as you start to tip over the edge. Right when you’re on the cusp, he slides his fingers lower and fills you swifty with three and the startled cry that breaks free from your throat doesn’t even hit the air before he covers your mouth with his.
He swallows every low moan, every hitch in your breathing, every hot puff of air you let out as he pumps his fingers to wring every last drop of release from your trembling body and even when he slides his fingers out, his mouth still doesn’t stop. Coated with your slick, his hand smears damp across your jaw as he presses you into place and takes, his tongue sliding hungrily against yours.
Your own taste is thick on your tongue when he pulls back, and breathless and spent, you’re finally blissfully pliant and loose beside him in the sleeping bag - but not for long.
Slipping his fingers into his mouth, you blink your damp eyelashes up at him as you watch him suck on them with a low, satisfied groan. The lewd action paired with the deep sound, his eyes are still on your face when he pulls them from his mouth to reach back down into the sleeping bag.
“Feel better?” he asks, and though you don’t even know how to begin to answer that question, you find yourself nodding anyway.
As if nothing happened, he grasps your jeans and gives them a perfunctory, swift tug, putting you back together. Lifting your hips in a daze, you let him.
Satisfied, he positions you on your side again, facing away from him and settling down behind you, he drags you tight to his chest with a thick arm banded around your waist.
A thick, solid heft is felt between the two of you, pressed against your ass and his usual gruff voice softens, but only just.
“Good. Now go to sleep.”
#joel miller#joel miller x you#joel miller x reader#joel miller/you#tlou fanfiction#joel miller smut
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