#this? this is what breaks that? this is what takes that away for me? this was nothing compared to so much more
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Oscar Jack Piastri-Leclerc
Charles Leclerc x wife!Reader
Summary: congrats … it’s a boy!
You wake up to the sound of the apartment door closing, followed by Charles’ familiar footsteps down the hallway. Sunlight streams in through the curtains as he enters the bedroom, still dressed in his sweaty workout clothes.
“Mon amour, you’ll never believe what just happened,” he says, unable to contain his excitement.
You rub the sleep from your eyes. “What is it, babe?”
“I adopted Oscar Piastri.”
You blink a few times, unsure if you heard that correctly. “You … adopted Oscar Piastri? The McLaren driver?”
“Yes!” Charles exclaims, flopping down on the bed beside you. “It all started when he tweeted about wanting to find Monégasque roots so the Monaco Grand Prix could be his home race.”
“Okay ...” You try to wrap your head around this bizarre situation.
“So I replied saying I could just adopt him if needed. And you know how Oscar is, always ready with a witty comeback.” Charles grins. “He said to call him Oscar Jack Piastri-Leclerc and that he wants to meet Leo on Thursday at McLaren.”
“Charles ...” You can’t help but laugh at the sheer absurdity. “You can’t just adopt a fully-grown man! Especially another F1 driver!”
“Why not?” He throws his arm around you, pulling you close. “We’re gonna be one big happy family. The two of us, Leo, Oscar, Ollie, and whoever else we decide to adopt along the way.”
You playfully shove him away. “You’re ridiculous, you know that?”
“Maybe a little.” Charles winks. “But you love me for it.”
Rolling your eyes, you get out of bed and head for the kitchen, Charles trailing behind. “So does this mean Oscar is coming for family dinner this Thursday?”
“Of course! We have to celebrate properly.” Charles scoops Leo up from his bed, cradling the puppy in his arms. “What do you say, Leo? You ready to have another big brother?”
Leo licks Charles’ face, tail wagging excitedly. You lean against the counter, watching your husband and puppy with a fond smile.
“I suppose I’ll have to set an extra place at the table,” you muse. “Your mother is going to flip when she finds out about this.”
“Maman keeps asking when we’ll give her grandchildren, she’ll be thrilled!” Charles insists. “Who wouldn’t want Oscar as a grandson?”
You snort at that. “Grandson? You’ve really thought this through, haven’t you?”
“I’m serious!” He sets Leo down and wraps his arms around your waist, pulling you flush against him. “We can make it official. Have a baby shower and everything once this weekend is over with.”
“You’re unbelievable.” You shake your head in amused exasperation, resting your hands on his chest.
Charles leans in close, his warm breath fanning across your face. “Admit it, my particular brand of crazy kinda does it for you.”
You bite your lip to stifle a grin. “Keep talking and maybe I’ll consider it.”
His eyes spark with mischief and he dips his head to capture your lips in a searing kiss. You melt against him, tangling your fingers in his hair and kissing him back with equal fervor. A loud bark from Leo breaks you apart, both slightly flushed.
“Not in front of the puppy,” Charles teases, booping Leo on the nose.
You swat his arm. “Stop being a brat and go take a shower, you’re all gross and sweaty from the gym.”
“Mmm, why don’t you join me?” He waggles his eyebrows in an over-exaggerated leer.
You laugh, shoving him away playfully. “Not a chance, mister. I have to go out and buy another place setting for our new family member.”
“Can I at least have a good luck kiss? It’s Monaco race week, after all. I’ll need all the luck I can get.” Charles bats his eyes at you in an exaggerated pout.
Shaking your head fondly, you rise up on your tiptoes to press a chaste kiss to his lips. “There. Now go get ready.”
Still grinning like a loon, Charles saunters off to the bathroom. You crouch down and scoop up Leo, pressing a kiss to the top of his fuzzy head.
“Your dad is something else, you know that?” You murmur affectionately.
A few hours later, you return home laden with groceries to find Charles lounging on the couch scrolling through his phone. He looks up as you enter, eyes bright.
“Good timing, I was just about to call you.”
“Oh yeah?” You set the bags on the counter and start unpacking. “What’s up?”
“I was thinking ...” Charles gets up and comes over, wrapping his arms around you from behind. “We should do something special for Oscar’s first official family dinner. Maybe a nice home cooked meal out on the balcony?”
You lean back against his chest with a contented hum. “That does sound lovely.”
“I’ll cook!” Charles volunteers immediately. “My famous carbonara?”
“You just want to show Oscar you can manage to make something without burning the apartment down, don’t you?” You laugh, twisting in his embrace to face him.
Charles ducks his head sheepishly. “Maybe a little.”
“Well, I’m not complaining.” You peck him on the cheek. “Go ahead and make your carbonara for our new adopted son.”
“Yes!” He pumps his fist in the air victoriously.
You shake your head at his antics, warmth blooming in your chest. “I love you, you big goof.”
The smile Charles gives you is utterly radiant. “I love you too.”
He pulls you in for a deep, lingering kiss, holding you close. You get so lost in the moment that you don’t notice Leo trotting up and pawing at your legs until he lets out a pointed bark. Laughing, you reluctantly break the kiss.
“Sorry, baby.” Charles scoops up the puppy, scratching behind his ears. “We didn’t mean to leave you out.”
You take Leo from his arms, pressing a smiling kiss to his soft fur. “Don’t worry, you’ll always be our favorite.”
“That’s right,” Charles agrees, booping Leo’s nose. “No matter how many race car drivers we adopt, you’ll always be number one.”
The three of you spend the rest of the afternoon lounging contentedly together, Charles and Leo snuggled up on either side of you. It almost makes you forget the madness that kick started this whole situation in the first place.
Almost.
A few days later, after the drivers have finally been freed from their Thursday media obligations, your doorbell rings. You share a look with Charles as Leo starts barking.
“I’ll get it,” he says, already knowing who it is.
Sure enough, a few moments later Charles returns to the living room with Oscar in tow, looking rather sheepish. You rise to greet your new son.
“Oscar, hi! Come on in.” You pull him in for a hug, which he returns tentatively.
“Sorry about all … this.” Oscar gestures vaguely as you part. “I was just joking on Twitter but then Charles actually went and-”
“Adopted you, yeah.” You laugh. “Don’t worry about it, we’re happy to have you as part of the family.”
“Still getting used to that idea, to be honest.” Oscar scratches the back of his neck.
You wave a dismissive hand. “Well, get ready for lots of family gatherings and parental nagging from this point on.”
“Oh boy.” Despite his words, Oscar’s mouth quirks up in an amused grin.
“Starting with tonight’s big family dinner out on the balcony,” Charles interjects, slinging an arm around Oscar’s shoulders. “You like pasta?”
“Do I ever.” Oscar brightens. “Is Leo gonna be there too?”
“Of course! Can’t leave out my favorite son.” Charles scoops up the puppy, plopping him in Oscar’s arms. “Here, get acquainted with your new little brother.”
“Hiya little guy,” Oscar says softly, instantly melting as Leo licks his face. You watch the tender interaction with a warm smile.
“He’s taken a real shine to you already,” you comment. “I think Leo approves of his new big brother.”
Oscar ducks his head shyly but you can see the corners of his mouth tugging up into a grin. “Guess that makes me an official part of the family then.”
“Damn right it does!” Charles crows, throwing an arm around each of your shoulders and pulling you both in for an enthusiastic group hug.
You laugh, squished between them. “Easy there, dad. You’re gonna smother the poor kid before he’s even settled in.”
“What, you’re not excited to finally have your dream son?” Charles teases, ruffling Oscar’s hair affectionately. “Our little family is complete now.”
Rolling your eyes fondly, you extricate yourself from the embrace. “Why don’t you boys go set up for dinner while I start cooking? The balcony still needs to be prepped.”
“You got it, mon cœur.” Charles drops a kiss on your cheek before herding Oscar out towards the balcony, Leo cradled in his arms. “Come on, son. Let’s get this place looking perfect for your first official Leclerc family dinner.”
You shake your head as their voices fade down the hall, chuckling under your breath. Only your husband would take a silly Twitter joke this far. But as you start gathering ingredients for your grandmother’s legendary bolognese recipe, you can’t help but feel a swell of contentment.
Having Oscar around is certainly going to take some getting used to. But there’s no denying the warm affection and familial love you already feel towards the bashful but kindhearted young man. He fits right in with the playful, chaotic energy that defines your little household.
By the time the sun begins to dip below the horizon, bathing the apartment in a warm golden glow, the balcony is set up beautifully. You carry out the steaming pots of food to find Charles and Oscar setting out plates and glasses, Leo scampering around their feet. Your heart feels full just looking at them.
“This all looks wonderful, you two,” you say, setting the food down on the table. “Now we just need the guest of honor to arrive.”
“Maman’s never been late to dinner a day in her life,” Charles assures you. “She’ll be here any minute.”
Sure enough, there’s a rapid knocking at the door only moments later. You share an amused look with Oscar before going to answer it, Charles and Leo trailing behind.
“Maman!” Charles exclaims as you pull open the door to reveal his mother waiting on the other side. “Perfect timing.”
“Of course, we can’t start dinner without-” She breaks off abruptly as her eyes land on Oscar hovering behind you. “Charles, darling, who is this?”
“Maman, I’d like you to meet Oscar.” Charles beams as he gestures between them. “Your new grandson.”
A heavy silence falls over the room as Charles’ mother processes this bombshell. Her gaze flicks between the three of you, searching your faces for any sign that this is all an elaborate prank.
Finally, she seems to deflate with a sigh. “Oh Charles … what have you done now?”
And just like that, the floodgates open as both of you rush to explain the situation, talking over each other eagerly. Watching the animated scene unfold, Oscar catches your eye with a helpless look.
You just shrug, a soft smile playing at your lips. Chaotic as it is, this is your family now and wouldn’t have it any other way.
***
The following week, the doorbell rings just as you’re putting the final touches on dinner. Charles bounds over to answer it, Leo hot on his heels.
“Oscar! Ollie! Good, you’re both here.” Charles’ voice carries easily through the apartment.
You poke your head out of the kitchen, oven mitts still on. “Is that our other son I hear?”
“The one and only!” Ollie Bearman strolls in behind Oscar, looking completely at ease.
Oscar raises an eyebrow at the younger driver. “Why is nobody surprised you’re here?”
Ollie shrugs nonchalantly. “Teen pregnancy?”
You let out an undignified snort of laughter as Oscar gapes at him. “Don’t look at me, Charles carried you for nine months himself.”
“What?” Ollie whips his head around to stare at Charles in abject horror.
Charles just grins, slinging an arm around each of their shoulders. “You heard the woman. My body is a wonderland.”
“Oh my god.” Oscar buries his face in his hands as you dissolve into peals of laughter. “Why are you like this?”
“Because it’s fun to watch you squirm,” Charles replies cheerfully.
You wipe tears from your eyes as you head back into the kitchen. “Dinner’s just about ready, come grab a plate! Oh, and pray you don’t get food poisoning.”
Soon you’re all settled around the balcony table, tucking into plates piled high with food. Ollie kicks things off by turning to you with a smile.
“This is amazing, thanks for cooking!”
“Don’t thank me, it was all Charles this time,” you say, gesturing to your husband sitting across from you.
Ollie’s eyebrows shoot up in surprise. “You cooked all this? Damn, maybe having you as a dad won’t be so bad after all.”
Charles throws his hands up in mock offense. “Hey! I’ll have you know I’m an excellent father.”
“If you say so.” Ollie smirks, shoveling another forkful of pasta into his mouth.
Oscar just shakes his head in amazement. “I still can’t believe you actually went through with adopting us.”
“Why wouldn’t I?” Charles leans back in his chair, casual as can be. “You’re both great kids. Perfect sons.”
“Even if we didn’t ask for it?” Ollie points out around a mouthful of food.
You tsk disapprovingly. “Mind your manners, young man.”
Ollie’s eyes go comically wide and he quickly swallows his bite. “Sorry, mum.”
That sets you and Oscar off into another round of laughter. Even Leo gets in on the action, letting out a little bark from where he’s curled up nearby. Charles watches the scene with fondness.
“See, you’re already fitting right in,” he says warmly once the laughter subsides. “My two idiot sons.”
Ollie opens his mouth to retort but you cut him off, leaning across the table to affectionately pat his hand.
“Don’t listen to your father, Ollie. We’re happy to have you both here.” You shoot Oscar a wink. “Even if you did get adopted under … unusual circumstances.”
“You can say that again,” Oscar mutters, but he’s smiling.
Over the course of the evening, you take great delight in watching Charles easily slip into the role of devoted dad. He makes terrible jokes and embarrassing comments at every turn, clearly intent on annoying his new children as much as humanly possible. Yet it’s impossible to miss the deep well of affection beneath his teasing words and actions.
For their part, Oscar and Ollie play along enthusiastically. They roll their eyes and groan as if put-upon, but you can see the sparkle of happiness and contentment in their eyes as the night wears on. An easy camaraderie develops between the trio, fueled by plenty of back-and-forth needling and good-natured ribbing.
You sit back and watch it all with a permanent smile etched on your face. Your strange little family just keeps growing, and you wouldn’t trade it for the world.
At one point, you excuse yourself to use the restroom. When you return, the three of them have their heads bent together conspiratorially, hastily falling silent when you reappear.
“What’s this?” You raise an eyebrow as you retake your seat. “Am I being left out of the loop here?”
Oscar shares a look with Charles before turning to you with a sly grin. “We were just thinking ...”
“This family isn’t quite complete yet,” Ollie picks up easily.
You glance between them, utterly perplexed. “What are you two on about?”
Rather than answer, Charles pulls out his phone and starts typing furiously. A few moments later, your own phone buzzes with a Twitter notification — a new tweet from your husband.
Your jaw drops as you read the words over and over. “Charles! You can’t be serious!”
“Why not?” He shoots you an impish grin, clearly reveling in your stunned reaction. “Kimi’s a good kid, he’d make an excellent addition to the family.”
“I … you ...” You sputter, completely at a loss for words.
Oscar and Ollie watch the exchange with matching looks of unrestrained glee. Ollie raises his glass in a mock toast.
“To Mum and Dad, the most extra parents on the grid!”
You shake your head in bewildered amusement as they all crack up. This family just gets more ridiculous by the day.
A short while later, Kimi responds to Charles’ tweet.
The notification sets off another round of laughter and delighted hollering from the three drivers. You hide your face in your hands, torn between mortification and hysterical giggles.
“I can’t take you three anywhere,” you mutter, though you’re smiling so hard your cheeks hurt.
A warm arm wraps around your shoulders as Charles leans over to press a smiling kiss to your temple. “But you love us anyway.”
You catch his gaze, momentarily speechless by the contentment shining in his eyes. For all the silliness and absurdity, it’s clear just how much this strange little family truly means to him.
Swallowing past the sudden lump in your throat, you reach up to cup his cheek tenderly. “More than you’ll ever know.”
He beams at you, pure adoration written across his features. Then the moment is broken as an Italian-accented voice rings out from the hallway.
“Hey, did someone call for a new son?”
Oscar, Ollie, and Charles practically tumble over each other in their haste to greet the newcomer. You hang back, taking a moment to catch your breath as you watch the now quartet bound back onto the balcony, a fresh wave of chaos and noise in their wake.
One thing’s for certain — life is never going to be boring with this group around. You shake your head with a soft chuckle, heading back to join your one-of-a-kind family.
#f1 imagine#f1#f1 fic#f1 fanfic#f1 fanfiction#f1 x reader#f1 x you#charles leclerc#oscar piastri#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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“I’m not a whore!” She protests to her group of friends. The crowd looks at her, dumbfounded by her adverse reaction.
One of them breaks the silence. “Look, I’m not trying to offend you, but you’ve literally had sex with everybody here.” The girl pouts. Another man chimes in: “I haven’t had sex with her.”
“She told us last week that she sucked your dick in a nightclub bathroom.” He replies. “Well, yeah, fair enough.” The man admits. “Oral sex definitely counts.” One of the women jumps into the conversation. “Obviously, or it wouldn’t count for us girlies.” Another woman adds on with a shrug: “I just fucked her with my strap.” The group laughs. “Oooh, can I borrow that next time?”
The girl blushes. “That doesn’t make me a whore…” She mumbles, feeling called out. The woman carries on. “There’s nothing wrong with it, but if you take your panties off the second someone asks you for a threesome, you might be a slut.” The first man snaps his fingers. “That reminds me, remember when we asked to gangbang you? I’ve never seen anyone strip so quickly.”
“Damn, you guys got to gangbang her? Where was I?” The friend she sucked off in a toilet stall feigns insult. “You were out of town. Next time for sure.” The other man assures him. Shifting awkwardly in her seat, the girl is painfully aware of how wet she is from the conversation. “I just like free-use…” She whimpers pathetically.
“Oh, honey, we know.” The woman sitting next to her explains sarcastically. “When you ‘accidentally’ upload a video of you having sex to the group chat and ‘don’t know how to delete it’, people figure those things out.” The crowd bursts into laughter again. The girl wonders if she could get away with rubbing her pussy right now.
“I forgot about that! God, there’s so many stories. How about that Halloween when she dressed up like a ‘rope bunny’? All those fancy shibari ties, the bunny ears, nothing else?” The man mimics ears behind the girl’s head. “Don’t forget the time we all went camping and she ‘forgot’ to pack clothes.” As the group recounts their favorite stories about the girl, she rubs her thighs together, desperate to not prove their point.
“Any other good stories?” The man addresses the group. “Oh, not really a story, but…” Says one of the women. “…While she’s pretending she’s not a whore, what’s the deal with you pretending to be straight? You’ve fucked more women than I have.” The girl bursts out another protest. “I like guys! I just don’t want to not have sex with women, too!” Rolling her eyes, the woman explains to her with a condescending tone. “That’s called bisexual, honey…”
“My favourite story is the time I asked her to be my dog for a week…” The girl hops up from her seat. If she hears any more, she won’t be able to keep herself from touching her pussy. “Nooo! Don’t say it!” She begs him to not tell everyone. “…she really committed to it. Collared all the time, on her hands and knees, walkies, eating from a bowl, training her to do tricks. She never broke character. I’ve never seen someone as happy as when I put her in a kennel.” The girl’s legs tremble as she leans against the table for support.
“That’s a great idea. Usually, I just do blindfold and handcuffs, then edge the fuck out of her.” A woman regales the group with her story. “One time, I was sitting on her face after edging her for hours. While she was licking my pussy, I told her that I was never going to let her cum again. No joke, she came right then and there. I swear I wasn’t touching her pussy, tits, nothing, just grinding myself on her face. She came just from eating me out.” The woman points at the girl. “Because you’re bisexual. Or pan or something, I don’t care.”
“Call me vanilla, but I mostly just use her for porn. I swear I have a terabyte of videos of her by now. I still send her a clip every morning just to tease her. Haven’t had to repeat a clip even once, that’s how much I have. Hey, what clip did I send you this morning?” He asks the girl. “Umm, I think I’m, like, giving some guy head…?” She mumbles. “Right, the gloryhole. Those ones kinda end up the same.”
“While we’re on the topic: Sometimes she’s covered in bruises…? Who’s doing that?” A man and a woman raise their hands at the same time, then laugh. “Oh, you too?” The woman smiles. “It’s not my fault, you know how bratty she gets. The belt is the only thing that keeps her in line.” The man ponders her response. “A belt, eh? I usually just use my hands. The personal touch, you know?”
“Personally, I like to put a remote vibrator in her and have her go around doing stuff while I play with it. I bet she gets wet every time she goes into a grocery store now.” One woman calmly explains. The man across the table gets excited. “I do something similar, I cum on her face before we go out. We should collaborate.”
“I guess I’m not too kinky, I just have anal sex with her.” The man jokingly addresses the nightclub friend. “Don’t worry man, I haven’t had sex with her pussy, either.” The girl volunteers some more information. “You don’t just have anal with me, you always start right when I come over and… make me leave right after…” She clamps her mouth shut. “Oh, yeah. I guess that is a kink. Objectification or something.”
“I love being really really mean to her.” Another friend puts her face close to the girl. “And she loves it too. Isn’t that right, you dumb slut? Pathetic little girl. Listen to all these people who use you as a fucktoy, just admit that you’re a whore. Everybody knows that’s all you’re good for. Worthless slut, filthy little cum dump.” The woman hisses into her ear. The girl blushes bright pink. “…n- no…” She nods her head as she denies it.
“What about you? Just the nightclub thing?” A woman asks the only person at the table who hasn’t used her pussy. He hangs his head in his hands dramatically. “I think… I need a job with less travel…” Everyone laughs at his theatrics. The man stands and moves next to the whimpering girl. Her eyes widen as he takes out his cock and starts to stroke it. “I guess I should make up for lost time.”
The girl instinctively throws her body on the table and hikes up her dress. Her panties are a soggy mess; a huge wet patch from her pussy starting to reach up to her ass. Pulling them down halfway, the needy girl pushes herself towards his hard cock. He touches his head against her hole, then points himself upwards, grinding the length of his shaft against her body. “Nuh-uh.” He teases “Admit it, first.”
The girls head is spinning. Insanely horny, she tries to get his cock inside her. She whimpers as his dick is pulled away. “Say it. Come on.” She looks around at her friends. “ookie… fine… I’m a whore…” The crowd cheers as the man slides his cock into her pussy. The girl pushes back, burying him inside her on the first thrust. She cums immediately, while her friends laugh at her.
Her drool drips onto the table, her cum drips onto her panties. “I’m a whore. I’m a whore. I’m a whore.” Someone pulls her dress off. Another person points their phone at her. Another shoves their fingers in her mouth. Another grabs onto her breast. One leaves to go find her dog collar. The man fucking her pushes his thumb into her ass for a firm grip. The girl starts to cum again. Her voice is almost inaudible in the commotion.
“I’m a whore. I’m a whore. I’m a whore.”
#kxsalt short#kxsalt freeuse#kxsalt group#kxsalt degrade#bd/sm kink#bd/sm community#bd/sm blog#cnc k!nk#bd/sm brat#cnc free use#submisive and breedable#needy pussy#free use slvt#corruption kink#bd/sm puppy#degredation kink#attention wh0r3#needy wh0re#degrading k1nk#cnc brat#free use toy#dumb slvt#abuse k1nk#degrade and humiliate me#praise and degredation#objectify me#cumslvt#cnc sub#degradation k1nk#puppy sub
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Can I request something with popular bf Gojo and shy gf reader where reader is getting belittled and bullied by a group of girls and has been for a while, but doesn’t tell Gojo cause he doesn’t want her to worry, and sort of taking what they say to heart a little. Gojo notice this and eventually reader breaks down and tells him what’s going on
as soon as it starts, gojo notices something shifting in you immediately.
it’s not a visible nor a clearly sensible shift in your behaviour or appearance, yet somehow gojo is able to tell something is wrong and he is kind of proud of himself for that. yet the feeling of pride dims compared to the worry growing inside of him.
because you never tell him when something bothers you and he’s sure whatever is happening, he’s just not there to see it. you’re too embarrassed to say it to him since you don’t want him to worry, which sucks completely. it gets so bad, that satoru has to physically stop you from running away whenever he starts asking about what’s the matter, but you get overwhelmed easily and he lets go.
yet, this time he catches you right when you want to slip away; red eyes and shaking shoulders as you try to contain your sobs and run away from him so he doesn’t see, but he is quick to catch up to you in the empty hallway, caging you between his arms.
“let go, ‘toru—”
he gently tugs your hands away from your face, frowning at the dried tracks of tears on your cheeks , “no, tell me what’s wrong.”
“please, can’t we talk later?”
“no! stop running away from me!”
the way his voice cracks makes you shudder as you look up at him warily, finally realising that he’s hurt too. you stop resisting and hide yourself in his chest, sobbing violently while satoru holds you close silently. he moves around so he can slide down the wall and have you sit in his lap, arms only tightening around you.
“they…” you gaze at him through your wet eyelashes, voice a little shaky as your eyes bore into the worry splashing deeply in his, “they say mean things to me.”
“what kind of mean things?”
“all kinds of,” you mumble, eventually relaxing into his hold and letting him stroke your hair. “about my looks, my face, my stuff — just everything, y’know?”
he hums, hoping you’d continue.
“i know i should just ignore that, but then they start saying stuff about you and our relationship, and i can’t help but let it get to me? i know you love me, yet i… maybe they are right? maybe i am not good enough and you deserve more. prettier. funnier. smarter.”
you voice gets more and more quiet as you ramble about what’s been happening. and as you fiddle with your fingers, head hung low with staggered breathing, you’re unable to see how every single word you say nearly breaks satoru’s heart into a million of pieces.
“oh sweetheart.”
you look up at him, wiping the last of your tears. it seems like you’ve already come to terms with whatever the hell they were spewing at you and it makes satoru very angry. it has been going on for far too long, so long that it changed your brain chemistry and how you feel about yourself, and he hates it so so much.
“you are more than enough for me.”
you stare at him all wide eyed for a second before your face scrunches and you start crying once again, hot tears staining his hand as he wipes every single one of them. gojo cups your face gently and brings it closer to his so he can speak directly into your ear.
and he doesn’t spare any of his thoughts for you, letting you know that you’re everything he wants and he wouldn’t ask for anyone else; that you’re his favourite person in the whole world and he loves you very very much; that it hurts him that you’re hurting and are scared to tell because he’d do anything it takes to make you feel better. placing gentle kisses on your cheek since it’s so closer and he absolutely can’t resist you.
satoru doesn’t expect you to change your mind about everything in one day, but he’s ready to tell you those same words and more every single day if that’s what you need.
#— miya writes!#jujustsu kaisen x reader#jujutsu kaisen#jjk x reader#jjk satoru#gojou satoru x you#gojo satoru x you#gojo satoru fluff#gojo satoru x reader#gojou x reader#gojo x reader#gojo satoru#gojou satoru x reader#satoru x reader#satoru x you
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the one with the role play — gojo satoru
— your husband breaking character during role play after you mention the one thing you shouldn’t have
suggestive, MDNI, established relationship (you’re married), written with f! reader in mind but think i kept it pretty gn, alcohol (nobody gets drunk, just a super quick mention of it as a choice of drink at the bar), strangers at the bar role play (or a failed attempt tbh), based on this talk post of mine, wc: 1.3k
“hey, love”, satoru broke the silence while the two of you were folding the laundry one afternoon. (yes, the strongest sorcerer always helps his wife with chores)
“say, love”, you quickly responded, without looking at him.
“you know, i was thinking — we’ve never tried role play”
“that’s what folding clothes made you think of?”, glancing at him you chuckled, “interesting”, raising an eyebrow teasingly.
“we’ve done pretty much everything but that. you’re not curious?”
now was not the time to tell him that you had done this before, with your ex, and that it was fun. no need to remind him that you had other partners before him and make him lose sleep for days to come, like that one time when he found your diary from high school in the attic and read about all the crushes and boyfriends you had. it took weeks and a lot of coddling on your part (you even had to start a satoru only diary and write his name into little hearts) for him to get over it. so you figured you’d keep this little detail to yourself and take it to the grave. or it would be your husband taken to the grave due to lethal jealousy steaming from the fact that another man had laid his hands on you in the past.
“s-sure”, you stuttered, thinking back to that excruciating memory, then cleared your throat before continuing — “yea, we can do that, why not”
“good then”, he tossed the shirt in his hands aside and stepped closer to you. circling his arms around your waist from behind — one hand eventually resting over your chest while the other stopping at your navel and gently rubbing it — he possessively pressed you against his chest and hummed contently.
“someone’s very excited about this, huh?”, you placed your hand over his and tilted your head back to peek at him.
“oh? can you tell?”, he grinned, playfully pushing his hips against you.
“that giant thing in your pants poking me from behind is giving you away, i’m afraid”
“it’s your fault though”, his head craned down so his lips could reach your forehead and trail soft kisses down to the tip of your nose.
standing on your tip toes you raised your hands to cup his cheeks and pecked him on the lips. “of course, it’s my fault that you’re getting all hot and bothered in the middle of the day like some pervert”
“i always get hot and bothered thinking about you”, he pecked you back, then slowly turned you around (concerned that you might hurt your neck if you kept that position up).
“any ideas?”, you asked.
“8pm, the bar around the corner”
“we’re to enact the classic strangers meeting at the bar, huh? okay. anything else?”
“nope, let’s improvise”
[8:13pm, at the bar]
sitting alone on the stool at the bar counter, you kept playing with your now half empty martini glass, drawing circles with it on the surface. you felt a bit weird sitting here pretending to be single and ready to mingle. but oh well.
he was late. you took another sip of your drink and grabbed your phone to check the time again.
“next one’s on me”, a painfully familiar voice approached you from behind. “if you would allow me, that is”
he was late on purpose, you figured. waiting for you to almost finish your drink so he could easily start a conversation by using such a lame but still quite effective line.
“i don’t normally accept drinks from strangers”, you gazed at him, “but an exception every now and then wouldn’t hurt, i assume”
a puckish smile curved on his lips. “may i?”, taking his sunglasses off, he asked for your permission to sit next to you.
“sure”
you were quite impressed at how seriously he was actually taking this, not breaking character even for a second so far. he had made up a brand new persona of himself, introducing himself as “sato kouya” — the ceo of a leading pharmaceutical company, temporarily living in tokyo for the purpose of a big business project.
“enough about me though”, eyes focused on you, he leaned his elbow on the bar counter and placed his chin on his palm. “tell me about yourself — what’s a beauty like you doing alone?”
you giggled (he was just so cute right now). “you’re lucky that i am alone — if we had met a week earlier, i would’ve still been married”
his expression froze at your words. the smile from a few seconds ago was now bleeding into a confused, almost creepy, look on his face — his lips still stretched into a grin while his eyes told a different story.
“hmmm… how so?”, he spoke in a monotone, his grin slowly fading away.
it would be a lie to say his weird reaction didn’t concern you at all but you decided to brush it off, and continued. “you see, i just got officially divorced. my ex husband and i tried out best to keep the marriage going for as long as we could but we were simply not meant to be”, you sighed. “this was the best for both of us”
“no way”, satoru whined. “no fucking way”
“umm… excuse me?”, you tilted your head in confusion.
“i don’t like this”, his face giving you a dejected grimace — brows knitted, lips pursed into a pout and eyes filled with a mix of panic and sorrow taking over the blue in them and turning it into a darker shade. “divorced? not meant to be? don’t even joke about this”, he almost cried out. the thought alone rubbed him the wrong way, tugged at his heartstrings so intensely that it forced him out of character right then and there, putting an end to your little role play escapade (rip sato kouya, you will be missed).
“satoru”, you caressed his hand, “baby. love of my life. this is just an act, please get it together”
“oh”, he gasped in utter shock after his focus fell on your hand and he noticed you were not wearing your ring. “you even took your ring off? why would you do that?”
great, this was getting worse now.
“because of the role play”, you spoke each word slowly, stressing on the last two very carefully.
“but i’m still wearing mine”, he protested, pointing at his ring, “see? you could’ve still acted fine with your ring on and without bringing up divorce and not meant to be’s”, he cried again, a hangdog look splattered on his face.
“i didn’t want to play the cheating wife, that’s why i took it o—“, you were cut off by another dramatic reaction.
“cheating? CHEATING? you considered this scenario?”, his voice was hitting desperate notes at this point. you couldn’t believe he had lost all reason over a play pretend.
you pinched the bridge of your nose before you spoke, “okay, that’s enough. you’re being ridiculous right now. i’m going home”
he followed after you like a kicked puppy, whining all the way home. but you had to admit — part of you really loved the fact that he went completely out of his mind over something so silly, that he didn’t know what to do with himself just thinking about you possibly leaving him even in a made-up scenario, that you held so much power over him…
extra:
[later that night, in bed]
done reading for the night and ready to sleep, you placed your book on the nightstand and looked over at your husband sitting with his arms crossed next to you in bed.
“still not over it?”, you nestled your head on his chest.
“no. hurts like hell just thinking about it”, he mumbled.
“come on, stop pouting”, you pinched his cheek, “you can’t go to sleep with a grumpy face”
“yea?”, he glanced down at you, “sit on it then — it’s the only way to wipe that pout off of it”
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The Preferable Alternative - part 13
Start - previous - next (not yet)
Alt-Don has no immunity to Mikey's puppy eyes stare : )
#tmnt#rottmnt#preferable alternative#my doodles#one day i will get to the fun stuff#but unfortunately pacing demanded these parts first#(i tried to gloss over all this but it didn't work)#i did take a break#but did not get what i needed to done before returning to this#partially b/c the part i was writing for fw is frustrating me#and partially b/c i got new glasses#and they suck#it's been three days and my eyes wont adjust to them#so anything over a foot away is having a hard time focusing on#and i cant have my screen that close when i'm typing#but drawing is in fact close enough that i don't have an issue
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listen. listen. l i s t e n. listen. listennnn when penelope asks colin to let her help with his cut, and he only gives in when she says please, and he could merely extend his hand but instead places it directly into hers?? and while she bandages him he jumps between studying her face and their touch? she lingers for a fraction of a second but he curls her fingers into his before she can pull back??? they look up at each other and his other hand instinctively reaches for her too but can only just land on nervously playing with the fabric, not quite letting go???? and they're still holding hands until she mentions his writing??!! he's so caught up in her approval it takes him a second to remember how it came about?! what causes him to break away isn't embarrassment over feelings for her. she just unintentionally reminded him that the safety of his fake persona, the armor as violet later calls it, had been stripped away when she read his journal. he distances himself because in that moment he was still convinced the 'new him' was how he needed to be in order to somehow achieve some sense of purpose or belonging, and pen was drawing him back toward his old self, the true self he was desperately trying to cover up. and even despite this he can't help himself but make sure he'll still see her again??? the symbolism of the glass breaking around the candle? him trying to grab the pieces of the casing to build it back up, and being cut by it? penelope being the one to mend the wound it causes??? HELP ME I AM SUFFOCATING HE FELT TOO VULNERABLE AND EXPOSED AND LATER THE FLAME GOES OUT WITH THAT DUMB GLASS BACK AROUND IT LIKE HIS SPIRIT WITHERING IN THE RUSTED ARMOR HOW COULD ANYONE WATCH THIS SEASON AND DO ANYTHING BUT REVEL IN IT ALL
#i could be wrong i could be totally wrong but idc that's how i read it#this started out as a post just appreciating how colin didn't pull away from her touch#and in general just going feral for period handholding#did the fools who haven't enjoyed this season watch a different show?#am i alone in an alternate reality where it is just mindblowingly romantic??#polin#bridgerton#bridgerton spoilers#spoilers#colin bridgerton#penelope featherington#polin meta#bridgerton meta#meta
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sunny
words: 500
warnings: soft!rafe, established relationship, childhood stuffed animal, mentions of sex but no smut
“wait!” you gasp, suddenly pulling away from the kiss.
“what, what is it?” the worry is evident on rafes face as his eyes widen, not sure what he did wrong. maybe it was all moving too fast for you.
“i-um.” your hands splay against the door behind you, the same door rafe pushed you against and captured your lips. “i need to move some stuff in my room before you come in.”
rafe rolls his eyes. “i don't care if it's messy.”
“it's just some um… personal stuff.” you giggle awkwardly.
“come on baby, you're my girlfriend now.” rafe knows it's probably nothing, but there's something inside of him that's desperate to know what you're attempting to hide, to learn all your secrets.
“fine, but if you make fun of me rafe cameron-” you hold a finger up to his face. “i won't break up with you but ill be very pissed.
“no laughing, got it.” rafe nods.
you sigh and open the door behind you, letting rafe step past you into the room. his eyes sweep over the floor, expecting to see something embarrassing, but there's only a bit of clothes tossed around.
he shifts focus to your desk next, but it just has perfectly organized makeup. he looks at your bed last, a smile stretching across his face.
“i said no laughing!”
“im not laughing baby, this is so cute.” he coos out, stepping closer as he picks up the teddy bear, clearly old and well loved.
“be careful!” you squeal without even meaning to, rushing to stand next to rafe as he holds your childhood teddy.
“what's his name?” rafe asks.
“sunny.” you reply, pointing at the small embroidered patch in the shape of a sun, now faded to a pale yellow.
“this is what you didn't want me to see? baby, this is so cute. do you still sleep with sunny every night?”
“maybe…” you mumble. you don't take him on trips anymore like you did as a child, but he'll always have a place in your bed until he literally disintegrates.
“adorable.” rafe carefully sets the teddy bear down before turning to you, placing his hands on your cheeks. “you're the cutest.”
you roll your eyes. “i said no making fun of me.”
rafe shakes his head. “baby, it really is adorable.”
you furrow your brows, looking intensely at rafe, waiting for him to burst out laughing, but it never comes.
“you're seriously not making fun of me.” you hum out.
“in case you weren't aware by me asking you out, im kinda obsessed with everything you do.” rafe chuckles softly. “it's adorable, you're adorable.”
rafe glances at sunny, sat smiling on your bed, his brown fur carefully brushed through to keep it from matting. “but we should turn him the other direction when we have sex. it feels wrong.”
“oh, i got it!” you pick sunny up and move to your closet, opening it to reveal a small chair fit for a baby as you place him on it and shut the door.
“perfect.” rafe smiles. “now should we get back to what we were doing?”
you nod rapidly. “yes, absolutely.”
sfw taglist: @juniebugg @bejeweledreverie @ladyinbl00d
#rafe fluff#rafe cameron fluff#rafe fic#rafe fanfic#rafe fanfiction#rafe cameron fic#rafe cameron fanfic#rafe cameron fanfiction#rafe x you#rafe x y/n#rafe x oc#rafe x reader#rafe cameron x y/n#rafe cameron x oc#rafe cameron x reader#rafe cameron x you#rafe imagine#rafe blurb#rafe drabble#rafe one shot#rafe cameron imagine#rafe cameron blurb#rafe cameron drabble#rafe cameron one shot#soft!rafe#soft!rafe cameron#soft!rafe x reader
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for your own good
diluc ragnvindr x afab!reader | 2.8k+ words
warnings: 18+ MINORS DNI, reader is wearing a dress but no pronouns are mentioned, not necessarily brat!reader but you get a lil lippy hehe, dom!diluc, spanking as a form of punishment, oral, cum eating, praise kink, y'all are sickly in love as always, please let me know if i missed anything!
the sound of boot steps fill the near silent space of the parlor, heavy steps following much lighter ones through the large mahogany doors, up the stairs and across the second floor into the master bedroom. the maids and staff only emerge from the quiet corners they had slipped into after such a tense entrance when they hear the click of the bedroom door and resume their tasks, avoiding that corner of the manor.
diluc flips the lock behind him, scarlet eyes following your every step as you storm towards the connecting master bathroom in an attempt to put more distance between you but your feet stop quickly at the challenging call of your name that tells you this conversation is not over, even if you run away from it.
it's the first thing that’s been said since you stormed off towards home and you had hoped that the walk back to the manor would cool you both off but you were still burning with frustration and in your wake the flying embers of your emotions caught on your beloved and fueled his own frustration, his worry.
because that’s really all that had started this, worry for your safety. you would argue that you had it completely under control and aren’t hurt in the slightest aside from maybe your feelings but right now you couldn’t articulate anything aside from the exasperated thoughts that you couldn’t stop from spilling past your lips when you whip around to face diluc who now stands near the edge of bed.
his brows as drawn close, the soft pinkness of his lips in a thin line and there’s an undeniable lick of flame behind the dark pupils of his eyes that seems to deepen into a crimson fire at your words.
“don’t you think it’s a bit hypocritical of you to chastise me for putting myself in danger when you do it yourself on a nightly basis?!” you let out a strained laugh, like you can’t actually believe you’re having this conversation. you aren’t even hurt for barbatos sake. “this is ridiculous,” you mutter under your breath but before he can add anything himself, you decide you are finished with this conversation, whether he likes it or not, and end it with a snappy, “perhaps it's you that should be getting a good lecture right now diluc.”
you’re acutely aware of the shift in atmosphere throughout the entire room, how quickly it goes from overly warm in the evening sun spilling through open curtains and the natural heat of diluc to a eerie neutral calmness that's almost painful to breath in but beneath it you can feel the lingering sparks waiting to burst again. though their unusual muted crackling in the silence between you makes you wonder what exactly they would set ablaze.
“this isn’t about me,” his voice is deep, firm and hot.
you hear the ember at your feet pop and send your own gust of air over them, letting them catch fire.
“please, it very clearly is. you’re the one -”
diluc says your name again, in a way you’ve never heard before, serious and penetrating and at the impact of it to your core, you think perhaps it’s you that’s on fire. “that’s enough.”
you want to protest, say whatever's on your tongue and mind but there isn’t a single word that leaves your mouth when your lips part. your tongue feels heavy, your lungs barely able to breathe in air and when your lip begins to tremble, you take it between your teeth.
“come here.”
like a statue, you stand motionless near the bathroom door. your heart races, your cunt clenching around nothing as you watch diluc peel off his gloves without breaking your locked gazes. he pulls at each finger tip, starting with his pinky, until the leather is loose enough to slip off easily and then does the same on the other hand. one glove placed neatly on top of the other, he sets them on the edge of the bed.
when you don’t move, don’t say anything or protest, he closes the distance between you, every heavy boot step making your heart skip a beat and when he’s standing in front of you, his broad shoulders and black coat with golden tassels blocking out the setting sun, all you can do is stare up at his beautiful features and fall into the inferno behind his eyes.
gently, as if you were made of thin glass that had yet to cool, he takes your face into his hands, his palms cradling your chin, calloused thumbs brushing along your cheeks. the mix of tender and intense, his heat and scent overtaking your every sense, makes you beyond dizzy.
“i know i am a stubborn man but my love,” he voice is strained and his expression morphs into something almost painful. he holds you a bit tighter and you stand on your toes to reach him. “i cannot express enough how important your safety, your wellbeing, is.” he takes in a deep breath. “you are everything and without you.. ” he doesn’t let himself say the words. he can’t. he won’t. instead he kisses you deeply, his lips soft and so full of love you feel your knees threatening to give way within an instant.
and you swear they really might when diluc pulls away all too quickly and his hands leave your face. you want to cry at the loss of his touch but only a split moment passes before he has your hand in his and is guiding you towards the bed without needing to tug to have you follow.
you can hear your deep breathing in the palpable silence, the groan of the bed frame against the hardwood floors when diluc sits at the edge of your side of the bed, the delicate sway of your dress as you press your thighs together in the moment he stares up at you with an unreadable expression on his face before the quiet is broken by his captivating voice.
“please understand how serious this is to me.”
dilucs hands are gentle as they pull you over to him and all you can do is follow their silent command that helps you rest over his thick thighs, your stomach pressed against the muscles there. your hands desperately cling to the sheets near your head that can’t seem to form one coherent thought other than you’re certain that you’ve made diluc mad and are about to be punished for it. how fucking badly you need the him. how shamefully turned on you are.
he uses the same softness as he lifts up your dress, letting the tips of his fingers graze along the supple skin of your thighs the higher he lifts it until your bum is exposed to the hot air of the room.
you can hear the way he sucks in breath seeing you aren’t wearing any panties under your dress, though this wasn’t exactly what you had in mind when you decided to go without them this morning. it wouldn’t be enough to stop him.
“this is for your own good darling.” his thick voice, a mix of burning desire and commanding seriousness, makes your heart stop completely but you hardly have time to register it before a large hand comes down and smacks your ass with more strength than you were expecting, the sting sending shots of electricity through your entire body and sets your heart to a wicked drumming beat.
you whimper at the mix of pain and pleasure, the emptiness of your pussy and are unable to stop the way your body trembles and arches. your face burns when you come down for the jolt it sent through you and though you can feel his eyes on you, you can’t meet his gaze.
the cool air on your skin when he removes his hands makes your body break out into goosebumps.
“i need you.” another smack fills the air, makes your body jump and you try to swallow the filthy and pathetic noises threatening to escape past your lips. his palm soothes over your skin that tingles with the aftershock, warm and comforting. a mix of soft and marred skin caressing something precious, with the utmost care. “need you safe and sound in my arms. i can’t lose you.”
his voice trembles with emotion. you want to sooth him, kiss him, hold him close but you can’t move, can’t speak, can hardly breathe. the heat of his palms leaves your skin and can hear him bringing it down against your ass again.
“‘luc!” you cry out, chasing after his touch. your mind is so fuzzy, your body burning and melting in the heat coursing through your body that’s being fueled by the hand once again caressing you so lovingly over the pleasurable ache.
“do you understand love?” it’s not condescending or meant with any rudeness. there’s only love and worry for you, his very heart and soul, his light in darkness that he thought he was shackled to, that he could never be without again. please understand the gravity you hold on him. that he could not bear to lose you, no matter how small the risk. “i need you to tell me that you understand, that you will put your safety first. please.”
you don’t know why you hesitate even when he’s pleading with you. maybe because you want more. more of his touch, more of his words and the fire that's slowly consuming you both. would your lungs even work?
smack!!
“ah!”
he says your name, his tone is dripping with grave urgency.
“i - i understand ‘luc,” you say breathlessly, trying to swallow the traces of need and let him know you mean it honestly. “i’m sorry..”
the weight of his chest against your back, the rub of his hand over the still stinging hand print you can feel on your ass, is comforting, soothing and the feeling of his lips near your ear has you falling limp against his thighs and the bed.
diluc sighs, letting go of the tension that had built in his chest from the moment he saw you in danger and that turned into something else entirely when he was overtaken with the need to show you how important this is, how important you are, when you so easily brushed off your own safety. “all that matters is that you’re okay.”
“i am,” you assure him, bringing your hand up to his face and relishing in him leaning into your touch, the heat of his breath behind your ear. “i’ll always come back to you. always.”
“as will i, my love,” he promises and the words echo in your ears when you feel his hand move, long and scarred fingers gliding between your legs, barely needing one touch to be soaked in your essence.
diluc groans at how wet you are, how easily your body bows to allow him to part your folds down the length of your slit and press against your swollen clit, skilled fingers rubbing in circles with the perfect pressure that has you moaning into the sheets.
you can feel how hard he is, how hard he’s been with his impressive length under your tummy and when he sinks two fingers into you so easily, thanks to how dripping and needy you are, his hips instinctively lift and buck to feel more of you. any part of you he could, just to feel more of you.
but diluc doesn’t focus or care about his own pleasure. not that it was unusual for him, your pleasure is always his own but right now, he only wishes to make you feel good after causing you pain, even if he thought it necessary and your body told him of how much you enjoyed it.
in his seemingly infinite strength, he moves you effortlessly into a comfortable position over the edge of bed, your legs dangling over the edge but your toes don’t meet the ground with how high up the bed is. diluc is sure to gather your dress and secure it around your hips so it doesn’t get ruined. you hear the thump on the hardwood as he takes a knee behind you and at the large hands that spread your folds for him to devour you, with both his hungry eyes and mouth, you bury your face in the pillow he’d moved for you to rest your head on.
pressing a thumb against your clit, you feel his nearly panting breath on the still warm skin he had spanked, the faint touch of his lips making you murmur his name is a sweet plea. the kiss he places there is considerate, soft, but the lower his lips travel, the more impure they become.
at the first taste of you, you can feel more than hear diluc groaning in addicting pleasure, as if you were the sweetest, most divine thing he had ever touched or tasted. it was so much more to him, more than he could put into words, especially so when he is between your legs, savoring every heaven sent drop of you and the way his hot mouth made you wither and writhe.
the tip of his tongue replaces his fingers at your clit, rolling over the sensitive bud before taking it before his mouth and suckling with fervor. powerful hands sink into the flesh of your hips and pull you back into him, the tip of his nose nudging against your entrance, wild ringlets of vermillion hair tickling your thighs, a mix of saliva and slick coating the lower part of his face.
“oh diluc!” you cry out loudly at a partially hard suck. even into the pillow it seems loud in the room but you can’t hold it back with the white hot pleasure coursing through you at how he devours you like a man starved and who may never eat again.
with his cock twitching in his tight pants, sticky pre wetting his underwear, diluc pulls away from your clit and licks a thick stripe up to your entrance, beginning to fuck you on his tongue by pushing and pulling your hips while pulling away and meeting you half way just to delve that much deeper into you until you worry he hasn’t had a breath in so long.
when he does move away, the loss of his tongue leaves you unbelievably empty but when two thick fingers fill you only seconds later, curling into that perfect spot inside your velvety walls, you barely have a chance to protest or catch your breath. all you can do is repeat his name and arch your back so he can reach at a better angle.
you feel the press of wet lips against your bum, right over where he had spanked you, the unevenness of his breath matching the thrusting of his fingers into your little hole. “did so good for me love. so good. fuck.. i love you darling - i love you more than i know how to put into words.”
he can feel you clenching around his fingers at the praise and confession of his feelings, so very close and it only makes his movements more precise, overwhelming and burning hot. he needs to feel you coming undone just as badly as you feel yourself breaking and the reminder of his hand meeting your skin when it still tingles under his kisses drives you over the edge with deep arch of your back and the sweet call of his name from your lips.
never wanting a bit of you to go unloved, not taken in by him, his mouth comes back to your cunt, drinking down every drop of you that leaks from the movement of his fingers and down to your clit and after ensuring you’ve rode out every second of your orgasm, he pulls them out of slowly, licking his fingers clean before standing and handling your dress, pulling it down from where it now pooled closer to your chest and middle back, first covering your bum and glistening cunt.
diluc takes such care to lift and cradle your limp body in his arms, fixing your dress in the front as he kisses the top of your head and takes a deep breath in hopes you’ll try to match it and catch your own that still has yet to settle. you do and as you let out a steaming breath, you sink into his embrace.
settling his back on the headboard, he keeps you pressed as close to him as possible, like he needs to hold you close, feel you breathing and warm and clinging to him. there's an unmistakable hardness pressing against your spent body but your beloved doesn’t pay any mind or attempt to do something about it. perfectly content holding you like this and placing kisses to the top of your head.
with the steady beat of his heart in your ears, you feel your own beating in sync the more you come down from your high and murmur into his chest. “i love you too ‘luc, so much.”
genshin impact masterlist | main masterlist
#diluc ragnvindr x reader#diluc x reader#diluc ragnvindr#genshin impact#genshin impact x reader#diluc ragnvindr smut#genshin impact smut#diluc smut#genshin smut#🌙moonlight.stories
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promise to take it ノ blade . dan heng . jing yuan
ৎ୭ ₊ ˙ ⊹ . 1.6k ノ fem reader — steamy . slightly rough scenarios . separately ノ blade — prone bone . doing it raw . cumming inside ノ dan heng in his dragon form, but not entirely . missionary . implied mating season lol ノ jing yuan — size kink . riding him but he’s still in control and a menace
blade ノ
while the bedroom itself remains an oasis of solace and a delicate space where you can be yourself, never judged by his ruby eyes despite his low huffs and puffs at any of your antics, it is now also a jail for your sobs. cries disappearing in the supple cotton of the pillow as blade pounds into you, rough hands gripping your wrists like a rope. oh no, he will not allow you to push his hips away.
not after you begged for this just moments ago with that adorable whine of yours.
the dripping slickness saving you from the punishment that is him rutting into you with abandon. his cock stretches your pussy wide, filling you to the brim with every thrust, and you arch your back against him, letting him impale you over and over again on his heavy girth.
he growls, his fingers digging into your soft sides, leaving reddened imprints, as he pulls you towards him. he slams into you roughly, his balls slapping against your overly sensitive clit as he fucks you without mercy.
you squirm in his grasp, trying to break free, but no, his grip on you is firm. he doesn’t want you to move. you’re here just to take care of his needs.
the man above you breathes out, his long black hair falling over his arms and tickling your shoulders. using your body as he pleases, relentlessly pushing until only his base can’t settle into your cunt. you whimper, your legs shaking as you feel his tip brush against your deepest spot, and he chuckles. he likes how you clench around him, unsure if you want him to leave you or to welcome him deeper — this is how he knows you’re getting close.
and so blade leans forward, his breath burning your neck, and bites on your irritated skin. you cry out, your soppy walls throbbing to lure him into your heat, and he grunts as he hears your juices plapping down his thighs. the way you cream all over his cock �� awfully erotic — your wetness coating his length, and he picks up his pace, pounding into you with renewed vigour. he wants to cum inside you. to fill you up.
a high-pitched squeal escapes your lips, your silhouette shivering with uncontrollable intensity. the overwhelming sensation becomes too much to bear, and you find yourself unable to endure it any longer; still played with like a pretty doll, pressed to the mattress with all of his weight. blade groans, his girth pulsing, and he snugs himself deep into you, cumming in thick, hot spurts, your pussy milking him until the very last drop.
you mewl at his treatment, your wrists aching from his bruising grip, and he smirks, his red eyes gleaming. the way you look right now, his favourite image of contained desires. his dear darling.
he will make it up to you later with sweet kisses and gentle caresses, but for now, he enjoys the sight of his cum oozing out of your well-fucked cunt, dripping onto the bedsheets.
dan heng ノ
this position isn’t something new, however, and even though the fact is pleasant to think about, you do wonder what caused him to get so bold. maybe at the sight of you admiring his partially changed form, eyes drinking in the beautiful shimmer of his scales, he understood that you find him so attractive — as always, but now also intrigued by other parts of him that might be different.
his hand traces the lines of your ribs as you inhale at the feeling of him entering deeper — the unfamiliar shape of his cock nesting comfortably against your soft insides — and then he puts some weight on top of you, pressing you further into the pillows, his lips barely touching your own, unsure if he already wants to kiss you.
“tell me if it hurts you.”
“it’s alright, really. you can… you know, continue…”
“now i’m more concerned that you seem to like it more than when we’re doing it… gentler.” surprised at his own talkativeness, there’s a red splash of colour on his cheeks as he bites his lips at the end of the sentence and buries his face in the crook of your neck. you giggle at his comment, but it turns into a needy moan as he moves his hips to rest snugly between your legs.
with your tongue, you slide across his upper lip, capturing it softly and biting on its tenderness, tasting a faint trace of his salty sweat and humming as he shivers, your fingers tangled in his hair, brushing through the ebony black locks, before whispering, “i know you’re holding back. no need to, i trust you.”
“mmh,” dan heng mutters with a shaky breath as his shaft hardens and thickens at your reactions. your reassuring words have such an impact on him; they're teasing him with this pleading tone of yours, allowing him to mate with you during the times when he gets so incredibly hot in your presence, unable to keep his hands off of you.
his thrusts start slow and measured; however, with each minute passing, he finds himself succumbing more and more to the instinct calling upon him; it is so much different now that you’re within his reach — how you react, how you look at him — everything makes him lose his cool. soon his lips find your nipple again, teeth grazing sensitive skin until you hiss, yet push yourself towards him, arching your back. the sting of his bite stimulates you to the point where your inner walls spasm, clamping down on him tightly as you almost cry out.
even the shallowest strokes produce audible squelching noises whenever he loses his rhythm. he’s just as intoxicated by the new sensation. the little details that change in his build now make you two melt in each other’s arms; his cock glides with fervour and carelessness against the spots that usually required precision.
the pleasure is overwhelming, even a bit scary how accurate at bringing the sweetest of your sobs out. his instincts still force him to grip at your shoulders — you let him do this — to slam harder inside of your pussy. and you can barely take it, but he quickly looks at the side on the clock, and it’s been barely minutes since he started…
jing yuan ノ
he embraces you tightly, wide arms with ease groping your entire body as you shudder, and let him bring you closer, your back pressed to his soft yet firm chest — allowing his cock to reach deeper, spearing your entrance until your essence seeps out in abundance between your bodies.
usually, you would expect jing yuan to prefer being face to face with you, but also knowing what a menace he can be, there must’ve been something more on his mind. which catches you by surprise when you notice his fingers circle your clit from the front, sort of caging you between one pleasure and another as you helplessly try to wriggle out of his iron grip.
at that, what you hear is a chuckle — deep like the ocean, sweet like honey, dripping with both love and lust, and making you all fuzzy from within. the waves of immense enjoyment lap at your limbs from all sides, and you gasp out when his palm rubs you so skillfully, with care and adoration.
“no matter which part of you i touch… it’s a pleasure to watch you shake in my arms.“ he purrs with a small smile, nibbling at your earlobe and inhaling the sweet scent of your hair. you wish to nod but can't, in fear that it’ll only spur him further on to bounce you on his cock and enjoy how you struggle with each thrust. “does my beloved bird feel good?”
before you can answer — which you would love to, gathering the strength and courage to wail and sob into his lips as your head falls back on his shoulder — his palm moves up from your bundle of nerves to your tummy, pressing on the soft flesh there. intently. he knows exactly what to do to get a specific reaction out of you, to make himself moan as you clench abruptly on his girth despite your walls sobbing at the stretch. you feel so full in that moment, choking on your breath at the additional pressure, too occupied with his cock filling your body so wholly.
as he starts to fuck you relentlessly — you cry out, the pitch of your voice higher and higher as you slowly become incapable of maintaining any volume at all — the tiniest sounds, broken huffs of air leaving your mouth; your eyes are glassy with tears, and all you want to do is bury yourself in the pillows and blankets, somehow escape from this prison of bliss. but he holds you close, one hand fondling your breast and the other playing around your lower abdomen, always there where you don’t want him at the moment, just to tease and make you more and more desperate.
a little flick of his thumb against your pearl, a press on your belly, maybe even fingers parting your folds as he drags his fat tip in and out at the perfect angle. it’s enough to throw you over the edge again.
as if your body belonged to him — and he, being the ever caring lover, already knows everything about you, that you enjoy it too much when he manhandles you like this.
#—writing.#hsr x reader#hsr x you#honkai star rail smut#honkai star rail x reader#honkai star rail x you#hsr smut#fem reader#blade x reader#blade smut#dan heng x reader#dan heng smut#jing yuan x reader#jing yuan smut#jing yuan x you
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If possible, when you are feeling better and up to it, writing some aquatic monster smut (mermaid-like or octopus-like)??
Ps love your writing I look forward to seeing more 💙
Thank you for your kind words! It means a lot. I chose sea-monster as an octopus-like creature, hope that's okay. I was thinking some kind of half-octopus, half-human. Something like Ursula from The Little Mermaid but like… male and hot? I hope you like this, and I’m very sorry for how long it took me to get to it. 🥰
A good girl at the seaside
Sea-monster x fem!reader || tentacles, praise kink, forced orgasm, overstimulation
You were floating on the beach, still not believing your luck. A weird lady at the inn recommended you the most precious little beach and there was nobody around, it was completely deserted. You spent some time at the shore, basking under the sun with your bikini on, before you said fuck it, and chose to take off your bikini completely. The sun felt marvelous against your naked skin, and not having any tan lines was also a pro. You didn't want to get caught, but deep down you felt a spark of heat at the thought of someone observing your naked form. Someplace inside of you, there was an exhibitionist wanting to come out.
Floating in the water felt like a warm caress against your overheated skin, the sea salt making your body tickle, and your nakedness making you feel naughty. After a while, you felt your fingers pruning. You got back to the sand, laying down flat on your towel, the sun tickling your back and warming your skin. It was wonderful.
"What do we have here? A pretty human gift?" A raspy voice said from behind you. You screamed and tried to turn around.
"What the-?" You didn't finish that thought. A slimy something pressed at your lower back, pushing your body down and stopping you from turning to see who it was. Was that a tentacle? It felt like it. What the fuck. "Let me go!" You tried to scratch the tentacle, push it away from you, but more joined the first one, ascending the back of your thighs, sending shivers up your spine. Some grabbed your arms and pinned them down. Another pair grabbed your ankles and pushed your legs apart. You were completely exposed and trapped under some talkative tentacle monster.
"What a pretty pussy... We are going to have fun, aren't we?" The creature behind you said, a tentacle following a path to your center. You shivered involuntarily.
"What? No!" You tried to break free and turn around, but it was fruitless. The tentacles holding you down were way too heavy, had too much force for you to move.
"Hmm?" He made a sound of utter confusion. "You don't want to? But the lady said she sent me a present. And you are in my beach…"
"What are you talking about?! I don't even know who you are! What you are!" You screamed over your shoulder, still pinned to the ground, your breathing irregular with exertion of trying to get free. You tried really hard to bury the shiver of anticipation under your skin, the wetness pooling at your pussy… The slimy feeling of his tentacles against your heated skin felt wonderful, but you knew you didn’t want it. Right?
"Oh, my bad." His voice sounded completely dejected, like you offended him with your rejection. He sounded sad, and you hated that it made your heart ache for him. He was trying to tentacle-fuck you without even asking first, you shouldn’t be feeling sorry for him… But yet, you felt it. The tentacles holding you down disappeared, and you turned around completely.
He was some kind of sea creature, his upper half looked humanoid, his features flat, but handsome in a weird way. His skin looked wet and shiny, super smooth, like a fish. But his lower body wasn't human, it was a mess of tentacles that looked octopus-like, suckers included. You felt more heat rising inside your body, pooling in your lower abdomen and making your body flush. You wanted to blame the scalding sun, but you knew that it wasn’t the reason. You felt things for tentacles. You were a sucker for them (pun intended). Your heat had nothing to do with the sun, and everything to so with the otherworldly creature in front of you.
He was turning away from you, approaching the water and taking those enticing tentacles with him. Fuck no. "Wait!" You screamed at him before he touched the water.
He turned around, his sad eyes confused again. "You said you didn't want me."
"I- I know." You tried to think of a fast answer. "I- I was wrong." Wrong? What the fuck was wrong with you, that was the real question there. He tried to grope you with his tentacles, he did grope you, and you? You were asking him to come back and do it with intent this time? Dang, you were a pervy human.
"I need to hear it." He told you, his eyes fixated on your face. You felt a spark of comfort knowing he would stop if you asked him to, he already did. And now, with your consent, you wanted him to do all kinds of crazy depraved things to your body. You wanted to experience what a good tentacle-fuck could feel like and not the fake experience you got from your tentacle dildo at home.
You knew you should be more concerned, maybe even more confused about the existence of sea monsters with tentacles and abs of steel… But at that moment you could only feel the heat of his gaze over your body, the still present slimy substance on your skin and the wetness dripping from your pussy. You were horny, as horny as you’d ever felt. And he was there, ready to fuck you if you asked.
"I want you." You whispered, embarrassed.
"Good girl." You moaned at his words, your inner sub melting with his praise. He approached you again, his body undulating and his tentacles rapidly reaching for you. But he didn’t touch you, not yet.
"Aren't you scared, pretty girl?" You shook your head. "You should." He sentenced, making you shiver at the danger in his voice. Dang, that was fucking hot. "You want all of me?" You nodded, lost in a breeze of lust. And then his tentacles touched you, all over. He held you down again, this time on your back. The heat inside of you felt like a raging flame.
He didn’t waste a second. His suckers met your clit and you felt an out of body experience. "You like that, pretty girl? You should see how beautiful you look right now. How pretty my tentacles look against your skin." His words were making you squirm, not used to receive so many compliments. But you couldn’t escape his assault on you, his tentacles holding you down, his suckers taking pleasure out of you without asking.
You came faster than ever, and he hadn’t even had to enter you. He only needed one tentacle and a clever sucker to make you into a mess, and you couldn’t be more grateful. He probed at your entrance, making you moan again as he pushed inside. Two of his tentacles reached your boobs and the suckers latched into your nipples, the sensation so overwhelming that you came again, screaming so loud he shoved a tentacle in your mouth.
“Be quiet, pretty girl. I don’t want others to come see my gift.” He told you as he pushed his tentacles further down your holes. The tentacle in your mouth touched the back of your throat, making you gag as he moaned over you. The on on your pussy touched your G-spot insistently, the sensation to rough and raw that you couldn’t stop the gushing juices you let out, coming again. “You cum so prettily, your pussy looks so pink and puffy around my tentacle… I bet you can do more. Can you do more, pretty girl?” You nodded fervently, wanting so bad to be good for him. To be a good girl.
He fucked your mouth and pussy in tandem, his tentacles touching you all over. After what you thought was the ten orgasms, he lowered his pace. You were panting, your body shivering, and tears running down your face as the assault on your sensitive areas. Your body felt like an exposed nerve.
"This is okay?" A tentacle probed your asshole, pushing inside slowly, breaching your unexplored hole carefully. You wanted to nod, but you weren’t sure you’d be able to move without orgasming again. He kept looking at your face analyzing your reactions, repeating whatever made your body shiver, your pussy quiver, your moans escape around his tentacles.
And suddenly all your holes were full, his figure looming over you as he moved his tentacles all over. Inside and out, he was touching every inch of your body.
"Take me further. Come on." His embrace tightened as he pushed harder and faster into your holes, your moans muffled by the tentacle down your throat. "Good girl." You felt completely controlled, cared and fucked out. All three at the same time. You asked for this, and you were mesmerized by the feel of his skin against yours. “One more.” You shook your head, you couldn’t get more, it hurt so good when he pushed inside, but you didn’t think you could do more. You cried around the tentacle in your mouth and he shushed you, wiping your tears with another tentacle. Gods, he was all over you. “Come on, pretty girl, one more and I’ll stop.” He kept fucking you through your turmoil, the pleasure and pain mixing in the most excruciating sensation you’d ever felt.
“Come on, come for me one more time.” And you came. You felt some fluid leaking out of his tentacles, covering you in a mass of slime, down your throat, up your cervix… You were stuffed full of slimy liquid as he screamed over you.
After all that you just had one clear thought: real-life tentacles were a lot better than silicone dildos.
#sea monster#monster#monster fucker#monster x human#monster imagine#teratophillia#monster boyfriend#monster x reader#terato#sea monster x human#sea monster x reader#fem!reader#monster kink#monster smut#terat0philliac#request
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"Please- please-" you raggedly breathe, knees scraping against the hard floor as Satoru dragged you by your wrist, a soft whimper escaping your lips. You had no idea why he had gotten so angry. You have been nothing but good. You're forced to stand up next, hard grip on your hair sure to give you migraines. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry I don't understand-"
This is the first time Satoru has been so silent, it terrifies you, the very marrow of your bones. He is big, tall, looming and so unwavering when he wants to be. Your hurt and panic breaks into a sniffle, lips parted to utter what he'd call a pathetic excuse of an apology. "What did I say, when I said I would be okay with you going out?" He raised a brow, and your pupils wavered in the bone-chilling coldness of his tone. Harsh blue eyes and pursed lips ready to attack his little prey. "Yo- You- you-" Fuck, you're stuttering. Just like you always do when you're scared and panicked. "Yo- You- you-… what. Did. I. Say?" Satoru hums, after mocking your tone.
You sniffled, "s-said to me to not go out apart from the estate premises."
"Do I need to make sure you listen to me in a different way?" For Satoru, it's simple. You have tried to run so many times that his patience has worn out, the constant fear of you going away is making him the monster he is now. The outside world is filled with curses, and bad things. You, are a non-sorcerer and you should know better. Besides, after today's incident. He is ready to do anything.
"Why the hell were you outside then?" He yelled, Satoru… doesn't really yell. The problem is, a special grade spirit was sighted near the store you decided to go see for yourself. While that's something rare, it's increasing his anxiousness a tenfold. What if you had been there, you had been a bag of fucking bones! "I just- wan' wan' wan'ed you know- I just-"
"Speak to me properly or I will break you in ways you can't take. Wouldn't let you walk for days." That causes you to cry out, why is he overreacting so much! Christ! He already has you here, rotting, against your will. You sobbed, heart racing and breaths shallowing.
Satoru was… tolerable… you wouldn't call yourself the unluckiest person in the world until today. He had abducted you, but he was never… this.
"Can’t talk to her or she will have a FUCKING panic attack." His jaw grits, holding you by the neck and pinning you against the wall. Your hands instinctively hold his wrist, but they're meek, sweaty with fear, and powerless. "If I see you step out again, I will kill everyone you hold near since you love watching me helplessly try to make you compliant, without hurting you, no?" Without hurting you… yeah right.
You nodded, "W- Won't step out." It's getting harder for you to speak with every second, eyes losing focus and fight or flight kicking in. Satoru's harsh expressions are blurring out, you were passing out.
And you do, fall limp against him. His feet impatiently tapping the floor once he sees you collapse. Another reminder of how you could die in an instant and leave him like Suguru did. A soft sigh escapes him once the throbbing headache kicks in. The high adrenaline calming down and kicking in with brutal headache. He lets you fall on the floor, ignoring the slight bruise in your head at the impact. You should know better. At least this is keeping you from not fucking dying.
He walks away to get the medication for his head, looking at himself in the mirror. He doesn't… look like himself. He leans in, watching the colour of his eyes greying. Something's wrong. That's when it kicks in.
Yandere Satoru was influenced by the same special grade curse he had killed. Why else were his thoughts so messy? You had escaped so many times but he always thought you'd just… understand one day.
A cold blood rushes through his spine once his cloudy thoughts clear up, and the idea of you passed out on the cold flooring floods him. Satoru has never been more quick to pick you up, cradling you close. Some part of him is happy, you wouldn't run away anymore. Another part of him is unsure if it's him truly thinking it, or if it's the curse's energy tampering with his own. A small part of him wants to die for putting you through this. Satoru Gojo needed to figure this out.
And then… he needed to build his relationship with you from scratch once he finds out what you did go out to buy. There were ingredients of his favourite Kikufuku. You were trying to make him… Kikufuku.
The small part of him that wanted to die isn't so small anymore. Months, if not weeks, it will take months to get you to love him like this again…
#ANGSTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTT#jjk#jujutsu kaisen#yandere jjk#yandere gojo#yandere gojo x reader#yandere jjk angst#jjk angst#gojo angst#gojo x reader#jjk x reader#jujutsu kaisen x reader#jujutsu kaisen angst
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Pretty Please || Laia Codina x reader
Summary: Amid the Conti Cup celebrations, you come up with an idea to wipe the smirk off Laia’s stupid pretty face.
Warnings: 🔞 | face sitting, fingering, light bondage (but the soft and silly kind), top!reader
Word count: 5k
The look on Laia’s face when you push her onto the bed is one that will be etched into your memory for a long time.
Later, if you end up regretting this, you’ll blame the champagne. The thing about Laia is that she’s just so passionate. From the moment she came onto the pitch after half time, right through extra time and the celebrations that lasted into the night, she committed wholly to it all. And maybe you’ve actually fancied her all along, or maybe it’s the bubbles poured down your throat from the open bottles that have gone straight to your head, but you don’t think you can really be blamed for seeing Laia give herself to everything so wholeheartedly and wanting to drag her away so she can give herself completely to you.
Her expression is dazed, her hands helpless at her side as you straddle her hips, like she doesn’t quite believe this is happening.
“That’s it,” you assure her. “Just lie there and look pretty for me.”
She is pretty, blown pupils in eyes that stare up at you like you’re an as yet undiscovered wonder of the world. The confidence that attracted you to her is still there, but there’s a slight hesitancy too, like she’s navigating uncharted waters.
“I don’t … I’m not…”
Her accented voice is a little husky, probably from all the singing since Arsenal lifted the trophy but you allow yourself to believe that just a little bit of it is because of you and this position you’ve put her in.
“What? You’re not used to somebody else calling the shots?” You can’t help but tease her.
Laia gives a little shrug.
“Well, no.”
You lean forwards to cover her body with yours, ghosting your lips over hers as you murmur, “If you don’t want to do this…”
Laia answers by fisting a hand into the material of your jersey and pulling you closer so that your lips have no choice but to crash against hers.
She kisses exactly the way you knew she would - with her entire body. You’re supposed to be taking control but it’s really hard to focus on that when Laia’s teeth nip at your lips, when her tongue swipes into your mouth, when her whole aura is enveloping you. Her hands quickly drop to your hips, then fall even lower until her palms are cupping your ass, her fingers squeezing roughly as she tries to pull you even closer.
“Stop it.” You break the kiss and swat at her hands until she complies and lets them fall back to her sides on the bed, then you add, “Don’t make me tie you up.”
It’s just a joke until it isn’t, Laia’s eyes darkening and her thighs clenching together beneath you. The movement is so minute that you could miss it, if Laia wasn’t the entire purpose of your existence right now.
“Oh?” Your mouth curls up into a smile at the realisation, one eyebrow arched as Laia’s cheeks flush. “You’d like that, would you?” You don’t give Laia time to answer before you’re pulling at the hem of the Arsenal shirt she still wears and telling her, “Take this off.”
You clamber off the bed and cross over to your open suitcase, cursing the fact that you’re in a random hotel in Wolverhampton and not the comfort of your own flat, where you’ve got all kinds of fun things you could use on Laia.
Rummaging around for anything that might be useful, your fingers eventually close around a clean pair of spare football socks rolled-up at the bottom of your bag and in the absence of any actual ties, you decide they’ll have to do. When you turn your attention back to the bed, Laia has taken off her shirt but still wears a sports bra and, for some inexplicable reason, the Conti Cup winner’s medal that hasn’t left her neck since she was presented it after the game earlier. She lounges back against the pillows, the smirk back on her lips. That damn kissable smirk.
“Take those off too,” you instruct her.
Laia maintains eye contact with you the entire time as she lifts the medal from around her neck and leans across to drop it on the nightstand, and yeah, you really need to put her in her place.
You crawl back onto the bed, helping her remove the bra without much care, too fuelled on a high of adrenaline, post-match pizza and champagne. The kiss you give her when the bra is gone is bruising, flattening her into the mattress as you remind her who is in charge, discarding the socks and your idea for them for a second while you focus on more important things - namely getting your hands on Laia’s tits. She gasps into your mouth as your palms brush across her nipples and you take advantage, slipping your tongue past her lips as you devour her mouth, hot and filthy.
“Fuck,” Laia exhales, as your mouth drops to her jaw, tilting her head to the side to give you better access as you descend the column of her neck and litter kisses across her clavicle.
“That’s the idea,” you murmur against hot skin as one of her hands finds the back of your head and weaves through your hair as she tries to guide you lower. You’ll allow it for now, knowing that she won’t have the use of her hands for much longer, and wrap your lips around a dusky nipple.
“Fuck,” Laia repeats, somehow more reverent than before.
“Is that the only word you know?” you ask, lifting your head to grin down at her as you replace your mouth with your hand, pinching her nipple between your thumb and forefinger.
“English is my fourth language,” Laia protests.
You can’t help but lean down and kiss the pout right off her swollen lips.
“Then let me help you,” you say between kisses. “Let me teach you two words that go really well with that one. How about ‘me’ and ‘please’?”
You watch as the cogs work in Laia’s mind. In her defence, it’s probably a lot harder to translate and put the words together while you’re playing with her tits. Still, the look of realisation on her face when she puts it all together is one that brings you a great deal of joy.
“You’re an asshole,” she mutters.
“You’ll be saying it before the end of the night,” you promise her. “Now, do you trust me?”
You let your hands still, serious for a moment as you wait for her unwavering consent.
She nods, face stoic as she answers, “Of course.”
Reaching for the socks you discarded earlier, you unwrap them from their little bundle and gesture at Laia.
“Gimme your hands.”
Laia stares back defiantly for a few seconds, the hard set of her jaw challenging you, before her face slides into the familiar confident smirk as she offers up her hands.
“Is this how you always celebrate winning trophies?” she asks.
Silently, you wrap the length of one of the socks around Laia’s wrists, binding them together with a tight knot. The material is stretchy and she could probably still break free, but it’s the thought behind it that’s what really matters. The power you hold over her as she gives herself to you and lets you render her semi-helpless beneath you.
Even with her wrists bound, she still seems too comfortable, like this is her plan all along and not yours. And you can’t have that.
You answer her with a question of your own.
“What, by putting annoying little shits like you in their place?”
Pleased with the reaction she’s drawing from you, Laia grins up at you.
“I love hearing you talk dirty like that,” she teases you in a low voice.
Satisfied with your work, you lift Laia’s bound hands above her head and respond, “I’ve still got another sock. Don’t make me gag you with it.”
Laia actually laughs, a ripple of joy that bursts from her throat and yeah she’s a bit of a dickhead, but she’s also so fucking pretty when she’s half-naked and grinning up at you.
You silence her in a different way, with your mouth, and there are no complaints now as you kiss her as deeply as before. She kisses you back just as fervently, clinging onto whatever semblance of control she thinks she can take from you, even with her hands useless above her head. She kisses as assuredly as she tackles, the raw passion that emanates from her body just as prevalent now as it was on the pitch this afternoon and if there was a medal for dedication to a cause, it would surely be hanging around Laia’s neck.
She’s still far too dressed for your liking, even with her chest bare, and you don’t even break the kiss as your hands dip down her sides and your thumbs tuck into the elastic waistband of her sweatpants.
Laia lifts her hips from the bed and you don’t need more invitation than that, finally breaking the kiss so that you can pull the rest of her clothes down her legs, tossing them over your shoulder onto the floor.
Unfazed by her own nudity, though really, with her hands already bound together, there’s very little point in being ashamed, Laia scans down your own clothed body and says, “You’re wearing too much.”
“Yeah?” Your eyes flit to Laia’s hands, still stretched above her head with the length of sock binding her wrists together. “And what are you gonna do about that?”
Laia clicks her tongue against the roof of her mouth, fighting off another grin as she shakes her head from side to side.
“And you call me a shit.”
Apparently, tying Laia up has done nothing to instil some obedience in her.
“Shut the fuck up,” you tell her.
“Make me shut up yourself,” Laia challenges you.
It’s not a bad idea. In fact, it’s an excellent idea.
You climb off the bed, leaving Laia still naked on top of the covers, her hands above her head. She brings them down and sits up, the expression on her face one of confusion as to why you’ve moved away.
“Wait!” she calls out. “No, I’ll be good! I promise.”
You lift your own shirt over your head, then step out of your joggers, leaving you in just your underwear. Laia has fallen silent upon realising that you’re not changing your mind, her eyes wide and mouth slightly open as she stares at all the new skin on show.
It’s not the first time she’s seen your body - you share a dressing room literally every day - but it’s the first time she’s been allowed to appreciate it. It’s almost funny how stripping out of your clothes has rendered Laia incapable of doing anything except staring at you, if not for the hunger in her eyes that sets your own body alight, turning you on beyond what you thought was possible.
You slide your underwear down your legs then return to the bed, straddling Laia once again, this time without the barrier of clothes.
“This isn’t fair,” Laia complains, eyes flitting up to the hands bound above her head.
“Why not?”
“I want to touch you.”
Laia makes no attempt to wriggle her hands loose, even though the stretchy material of the sock would make that quite easy for her. It fills you with a little bit of pride to see that she doesn’t do that, that she’s secretly happy with the position you’ve put her in and the freedom of movement that you’ve taken from her.
“I thought you wanted me to shut you up?” you remind her, shuffling your knees forward as you move further up the bed towards Laia’s head.
Laia’s eyes widen in realisation, then that confident grin returns to her face.
“Yeah, that works too.”
You stop with your knees on either side of Laia’s head, pausing for a moment to consider if you should move so that Laia can bring her hands down her body to be more comfortable. But then you catch sight of her between your legs, cheeks tinged pink and black pupils swallowing almost all the brown irises around them, and any thought of Laia’s comfort flies out of your mind. Besides, with her hands caught above her head, you can still see them as you ride her face.
The thought has your cunt pulsing in anticipation.
You get comfortable, one hand reaching out to support your weight against the headboard, then lower yourself onto Laia’s waiting mouth.
As Laia licks through you for the first time, the touch of her tongue snatches the air out of your lungs. She moves slowly, starting at your hole and swirling up to your clit before it goes back again, moving without any real purpose other than to just taste you.
After a few moments, Laia leans back to say, “You are really fucking wet.”
Her words are completely unnecessary and insolent enough for you to thread the fingers of your free hand through her hair and pull her mouth back against your cunt to shut her up properly.
Laia doesn’t seem to have any complaints about that. In fact, she doubles her efforts, humming as her tongue glides through you.
She works with more purpose now, working all kinds of indescribable magic where you’re hot and wet and aching for her. Laia’s lips wrap around your clit, suckling gently, then her tongue dips lower, swirling through your folds until she can push the pointed tip inside you.
You can’t help the gasp that escapes your lips, nor the expletive that follows.
“Fuck.”
Laia can’t talk from the position between your legs but you feel the hot puff of breath from her nose as she half-sniggers. You look down, met with a teasing glint in her eyes, and you roll your own.
“Shut up and fuck me,” you instruct her.
You take the opportunity to roll your hips, grinding your cunt against her mouth with slow movements as Laia applies herself fully to eating you out. You can’t really stay annoyed with her, not when she’s making you feel so good. It crosses your mind that maybe the assuredness, the borderline cockiness that attracted you to Laia in the first place, is justified by the skills that back it up. But then Laia’s tongue flicks over your clit again and you lose the ability to think coherently at all.
“Fuck, Laia,” you groan, leaning forwards to support your bodyweight against the headboard as you pick up speed, riding not just her mouth now, but pretty much the whole lower half of her face. “That feels so good. Gonna come real quick if you keep doing that.”
You say it as a bit of a warning but Laia doesn’t take it that way. In fact, if the way she hums against you, then doubles down against your clit is anything to go by, the idea of getting you off as fast as possible seems to be her end goal.
And yeah, as the coil in your core starts to wind up as your orgasm approaches, it’s an idea you can get behind too.
Your grip in her hair tightens, holding her in place as you ride her tongue as well as your trembling thighs will allow, then you make the mistake of looking down again, catching a glimpse of the hands still bound above her head before your entire world crumbles in earth-shattering pleasure.
Laia’s tongue is the only constant as your orgasm takes control of your body, not that you give her much choice about it as you hold her face against your cunt. You ride it out with jerky movements of your hips, savouring each hum from the girl below you as she cleans up your arousal, until you’re too sensitive and roll to the side, collapsing onto the mattress.
“That was so fucking hot,” Laia’s voice rises up beside you as you try to catch your breath.
You can hear the confident smirk in her voice, but you’re too dazed out from your recent orgasm to even begin to form the words to tell her to get lost.
“Are you gonna untie me now?” Laia asks.
You turn your head to face her and open your eyes. Her hands are still obediently held above her head, the white material around her wrists a contrast against her tanned arms, and she pouts at your pleadingly.
“Not sure you’ve earned it yet,” you counter, your voice more gravelly than it was pre-orgasm.
“If you want me to get you off again…” She emphasises this last word, as if making you come once has given her the upper hand here. “… well, I might need my hands for that.”
If Laia really wanted the use of her hands, she’d wriggle them free of their stretchy confinement herself. You take the fact that she doesn’t as further proof that she likes being at your mercy.
Feeling suddenly reinvigorated by that thought, you roll fully onto your side and prop yourself up on one elbow, using the fingers of the other hand to trace barely-there paths against the soft skin of Laia’s chest.
“I thought I told you to just lie there and look pretty for me,” you murmur in a low voice.
“Isn’t that…” Laia trails off with a gasp as your fingertips skate across a hardened nipple, her back arching off the bed for more. Her eyes close as your fingers move away, then she tries again. “Isn’t that what I’ve been doing?”
“Yeah but I also said I wanted to hear you beg for it.”
“Please,” Laia is quick to obey. “Untie me.”
She lowers her hands, offering them out to you hopefully, but you have other ideas.
“I could untie you.” Your hand wanders lower, still just barely tracing against her skin and Laia’s breath hitches in her throat as you pass across a ticklish spot near her navel. “Or I could…”
Your hand dips between her legs, pleased that your fingers immediately encounter a copious wetness.
“Yeah,” Laia says, letting her bound hands fall back against the pillow above her head. “Like that.”
“And you had the audacity to say that I was wet,” you tease her as your fingers explore, already coated in Laia’s arousal.
“I just had you coming on my face,” Laia rasps. “Of course I’m wet.”
Your fingers move languidly, with no real purpose other than to get them as wet as possible with Laia’s slick, then you drag your hand up her body and push your fingers past her lips.
“Who tastes better?” You ask, watching in awe as Laia readily accepts your fingers into her mouth, diligently cleaning them of her own arousal. “Me or you?”
Laia slides her tongue between your fingers, before releasing them with a wet pop to answer, “You.”
Your fingers are still wet, now with Laia’s saliva, and you shift to kneel between her legs as you push them back between her lips.
This time, you actually fuck her mouth with your fingers. Before, you were just letting her taste herself, letting her see how wet you managed to get her, but now it’s about control. It’s about reminding her that you’re in charge.
And Laia takes it like a champ. She maintains eye contact with you the entire time, even as you force your fingers deeper into her mouth, her dark eyes challenging you to push further. So you do, and when she’s almost gagging on your fingers, you slide your other hand between her legs and sink inside her there too.
Laia takes one finger so easily that you add another after only a few thrusts, matching the rhythm of the fingers in her mouth. The resulting moan is muffled by your digits, so after one final thrust, you withdraw them messily and put all your focus onto her cunt.
You twist your fingers deeper, the meaty part of your thumb hitting her clit, and when she moans again, the sound fills the room.
“That’s it,” you encourage her. “Let me hear you.”
Laia lets out another wrecked moan as your fingers rock into her. Your thrusts are deep and slow, more interested in the noises you can pull from her than actually getting her close to coming, and you bask in the symphony of little moans and gasps that spill past her lips.
When she starts pleading with you, it feels like you’ve gone to heaven.
“More,” Laia groans. “Add another one.”
Your thrusts become rougher, but you make no move to add the third finger that she so desperately wants.
“That’s not how you ask nicely for things you want.”
Laia responds in Catalan and though you don’t understand it, from her tone you’re pretty sure she’s swearing at you. Your response to that is to curl your fingers on the next thrust, pressing against her front wall until her cursing fades into another moan.
Laia manages to stubbornly hold out for just a few more seconds before she gives in.
“Please. Another one, please.”
Your ego swells at how easy it was to get her to obey. You enjoy very few things more than putting confident girls like Laia in their place, but you never thought that it would be this easy, that all it would take would be a pair of socks around her wrists and a couple of fingers in her cunt to fuck her into submission.
“I had no idea you were so easy, Lai. Just desperate to be fucked, aren’t you?”
Laia curses again, first in Catalan, then in English. Then she begs you again and it’s delightful.
“Please,” she whines. “More. Harder.”
You tuck a third finger alongside the first two and start to work it into her hole, the stretch more apparent now. You watch Laia’s face for any signs of discomfort, eyes briefly lingering on the bound hands that writhe above her head, but she seems to be enjoying this as much as you are. More, even.
“So desperate,” you taunt her, gradually pushing deeper with each thrust until all three of your fingers are nestled inside her. “Bet you still want more, don’t you? My fingers aren’t enough for you?”
You withdraw almost entirely, then thrust back in with much less care than before. Your purpose is clearer now - to ruin Laia. She’s already halfway there, you can tell that from the pretty flush on her cheeks, the way her thighs are tensing and flexing as she bucks her hips into your hands, the slick sounds coming from the thrust of your fingers between her legs.
You know right in this moment that you’re never going to be satisfied with having Laia just the once. That being able to coax orgasm after orgasm from her, hearing these heavenly sounds leave her pretty mouth over and over again, is going to become a need, rather than a want. She takes you so well, everything you’re giving her, like you’re supposed to fit together like this.
And you have no doubt that if you were to give her more, she’d take that just as well.
“What if I had a strap, huh?” Your eyes are fixated between her legs as you ask the question, imagining the press of silicone where your fingers enter her body. The way she’d open up and take that too, strong thighs wrapped around your hips as you filled her. “You’d take that just as well, I bet. What d’ya think, Laia? Would you beg for my cock too?”
“Please,” Laia begs you, arching her back and tilting her head to the side to expose the sharp lines of her jaw. “Feels so good inside. So fucking good.”
You piston your fingers in and out, caring less about how rough you’re being and more about the noises you’re drawing from Laia. You can hear how wet she is where your fingers move, the rustle of the rumpled hotel sheets beneath her body as she writhes, but best of all are the litany of moans and gasps that spill past her lips each time you hit that spot deep inside her with the pads of your fingers.
“Need you … my clit … please,” Laia manages to choke out between groans, and you know she’s getting close.
You indulge her, using your spare hand, the one that was in each mouth earlier, to spread her open further before seeking out the slippery little nub between her legs. The way she jerks into your touch tells you that you’ve found the right place.
“Like that?”
“Need to come. Please let me come!”
You’re torn, half-tempted to draw it out longer because she’s just that fucking pretty when she’s tied up and desperate for you, but the selfish part of you really wants to see how much prettier she can be when she’s actually coming for you.
So you angle your fingers just right, trying to find the spot that was driving her wild a few moments ago, while keeping the light pressure around her clit with your thumb as constant as possible.
“Go on then,” you hum in concession. “Seeing as you asked so nicely. Come for me, Laia. Wanna see you let go for me.”
It takes a few more rough thrusts of your fingers in her cunt, a few more precise circles of your thumb on her clit, and then Laia’s back is arching off the bed as she lets out a fractured cry of pleasure as the orgasm takes over. You can only try to guide her through it, watching in awe as she finally falls apart in front of you.
This might be your favourite part of sleeping with a woman, the moment where she gives in and just lets the pleasure take control of her body. Knowing that you’ve made it happen, simultaneously the one who shattered Laia’s entire world for a brief moment, while also being the only thing still tethering her to reality. You keep your fingers constant, revelling in the way you can feel her clenching around your digits and the fresh wetness that coats your palm, only letting up when the twitch of her hips is away from your touch, telling you that it’s too much.
Laia’s eyes are closed, her chest heaving as she tries to catch her breath, and you savour the little mewl of pleasure she lets out as you slowly withdraw your fingers and wipe the stickiness that coats them on your own bare thigh.
In the sudden stillness of the hotel room, despite the fact that she’s just given you everything you thought you wanted and more, the pride of being the one to make Laia come means you can’t help but tease her one more time.
“You know,” you start, as you kiss up her body, soft kisses with no purpose other than to simply appreciate Laia, “for somebody who says she’s not used to bottoming, you’re pretty fucking good at it.”
Laia opens a lazy eye, her eyelids still heavy with post-orgasmic bliss.
“I …” She starts to speak, then trails off and shakes her head, sniggering softly to herself. “Actually, I won’t even argue. If that’s how you’re going to fuck me, I’d let you do it all again.”
You crawl up her body, sitting astride her hips and reaching for her hands. She willingly brings them down and lets you loosen the sock that binds them. When her hands are freed, you kiss the newly exposed skin, brushing your lips against the pulse on the inside of her wrists.
“Uh huh?” You tease her. “I think you just like being a pillow princess.”
“La teva princesa,” Laia says, catching your jaw with one of her hands as she looks directly at you, then explains in English, “Only for you.”
Her smirk is gone, replaced by an earnest smile and warmth in her brown eyes that you feel like you could tumble into. You don’t want to tease her anymore, you just want to savour the time you get to spend with her alone, before the inevitable chaos of the football season resumes in the morning.
As you lay down and settle against her side, half on top of her, you notice a bruise blooming on the crux of Laia’s jaw that you don’t even remember giving her, one that’s going to be tricky for her to explain away on the team bus back to London tomorrow. You realise that you don’t care.
“So, is this just a one time thing or…?”
Laia’s arms wrap around you from below, fingertips tracing mindless paths across your naked back, and you feel the rumble of her low voice against your chest more than you hear it.
You lift your head slightly to look at her and she somehow seems more vulnerable now as she waits for your answer than she did a few minutes ago when she had legs spread, arms bound, begging you to make her come.
“Let’s win more trophies and maybe you’ll find out.” You roll fully on top of Laia and start kissing down her body, your destination the crux of her thighs. “Though I’m pretty sure I still haven’t properly congratulated you on winning the Nations League…”
The resulting laugh as Laia takes full advantage of the newfound freedom of her hands to thread her fingers through your hair is melodic.
“Don’t forget about the World Cup,” she teases you.
You glance up her body, her toned stomach, her perfect breasts, that damn smirk taunting you once more on her lips.
Rolling your eyes, you only have one final thing to say before you put your mouth on her cunt.
“Don’t be so damn greedy, Laia.”
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(Based on a true story) I'm imagining being a military contracted funeral director (from this post) that is surprised when the giant Lieutenant of the man you just cremated is waiting in your office.
"Oh! Um...h-hello Lieutenant Riley." You huff, completely caught off guard. "How long have you been waiting here?"
He doesn't respond. Just looks up at you with tired, distraught eyes. You've seen men bigger than him sobbing in the funeral home's lobby. He's no different despite the soft ski mask he wears to hide his face.
"I take it you're here for Mr. MacTavish?" You asked him, setting down your purse and keys on your desk. He doesn't nod or anything but he doesn't have to. You offer him a soft smile and place a hand on his shoulder. "Can I offer you something to drink? Coffee? Tea?"
"Tea..." His voice is rougher than before from disuse.
You nod and gesture for him to follow you. You lead him down the hall and into a small family room. On the side of the room there's a table with a few beverage heaters and pastries. You pour him a cup of steaming water, then thumb over the organized packets of tea.
"Black? Green?"
"Black."
You rip open the packet and place it in the cup. You offer him sugar and milk but he refuses with a shake of his head. He doesn't touch the pastries either so instead you usher him to follow you once more.
You bring him into the selection room. Caskets and urns line the walls. You can feel Mr. Riley's eyes wander from squarely between your shoulders. You take the opportunity to use your key and unlock the mahogany cabinet at the back of the room.
Inside the cabinet are a handful of different sized velvet bags. You reach for the largest one in the middle of the main shelf. With careful, gentle fingers, you pull down the velvet drawstring bag to reveal a simple urn. It's round, smooth and silver in color. Before you can pick it up, you hear something with significant weight hit the carpeted floor behind you.
You whirl around to find the Lieutenant on his knees. You stop what you're doing and immediately tend to him. You grab at his shoulder and try to keep him upright. If he passes out you'll at least be able to keep him from falling directly on his face.
"Mr. Riley?"
At first it's just sniffles. He covers his entire face with one of his large, broad hands. After a few moments though, he starts to sob. His breath hitches and his voice quavers.
"Mr. Riley?" You ask again, this time softer.
He continues to cry. His body starts to shake and he almost begins to wail. You press a comforting hand between his shoulder blades. All you can really do is comfort him until he's done.
Riley pulls his hand away from his face. He tries to rub the tears off of his lower lashes but it doesn't work. His sobbing slows down but doesn't stop. He seems tired, defeated. His entire body sags with an invisible weight.
"Mr. Riley?" You whisper, patting his back.
He finally breaks from his stupor. He looks up at you with a sort of fear you've only seen a few times in men's eyes. He's being vulnerable and so he believes he's being weak. You're not supposed to see this of him. No one should. You don't agree with that sentiment and never will, so you offer him another soft smile.
Riley shifts on his knees. You think he's going to move to stand. He leans over to you, pressing the side of his face against the meat of your hip. One of his arms wraps around your thighs. He squeezes you tight, like a son would his mother. He doesn't pull away either. He just holds you.
Once again, you're caught off guard. Now this, this is something you've never experienced before. You're unsure. You don't know if you should pry out of his grip or let him continue. He's a large man. You wouldn't want to offend him. He's grieving. He lost his best friend.
You lean over again, patting at his shoulders but moving up towards his head. You cup at his jaw to get his attention.
"I never met Mr. MacTavish, but something tells me he would hate to see you like this." You swallow hard. Sometimes, to support, you realized you need to have a little bite.
"Please, get up Mr. Riley."
Something about your command seems to stir something within him. His eyes grow pointed, his brow lines deepen. He immediately lets go of you like your body heat burns. And with that, hd staggers up off his knees. He refuses to look you in the eye.
Now free, you walk over to the cabinet. You replace the velvet bag around Mr. MacTavish's urn. You glance back at Riley and sigh.
"I know this is hard. Are you sure you want to pick up Mr. MacTavish today?" You hum. "I can call Captain Price to come instead. I'm sure he'd understand."
Riley stands there on shaky ankles still sniffling. He won't meet your eyes. He seems to be thinking hard about your words. He nods once.
You close and lock up the cabinet before escorting Mr. Riley to the lobby. The midday sun casts beautiful shadows across the white walls. The receptionist must've taken her lunch break as it was just the two of you.
"Here's my card. I'm sure you don't need it but um...if you need anything. Need someone to talk to? You can call me anytime." You smiled earnestly, placing the small card in his palm.
"Don't be ashamed, Mr. Riley. It's nor-"
"Simon."
You raised a brow but realized what he meant. You nodded. "Mr. Simon."
"No. Just Simon."
You give him a sheepish smile. "Simon."
He nods back at you, his regular demeanor having seemed to return. He tucks your card away.
"I'll be back for you."
You open your mouth to question him. You can't tell if his words are a threat or simply an odd promise. He's already turned to leave. You watch him walk out of the facilities' glass double doors. He dissappears into the sunlight a moment later.
You feel nervous but you feel...fulfilled? Mr. Rile-er Simon...is a peculiar man. You didn't want for him to break down and cling to you, but the fact he did make your heart swell. You'd always heard comments that you were just that type of person, the kind that even the most closed off people could open up to. For a moment you sat there lost in that thought. You enjoyed the feeling.
Then you had to get back to work.
You picked up the receptionist's phone, pulled a card out of your pocket, and then dialed the number of the Captain scrawled on the back.
#call of duty#cod imagines#mw2#mw2 headcanons#cod mwii#simon ghost riley#john soap mactavish#captain price#simon riley x reader
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Malicious Compliance - 18+
Spencer’s job has been hogging more of his time than usual, leaving you neglected, frustrated and bratty. He makes up for it by ever-so-kindly giving you exactly what you asked for.
Spencer Reid X AFAB! Reader
DISCLAIMER
This story is NSFW. It contains strong themes and detailed descriptions of adult content. It is intended for mature audiences only, minors do not interact! You are responsible for the content you consume. Make sure to read all necessary warnings. Please remember this is a work of fiction; if you don’t like it, don’t read.
WARNING: Smut, penetration, PinV, word porn, no mention of protection/unprotected sex, use of pet names, BDSM elements (details in spoilers), basically just straight up word p0rn with almost no artistic licence and a sprinkle of fluff. Proceed at your own risk.
Word count: 7.2K
See notes at end for authors note & spoilers.
Do people ever get so pent up that everything their partner does becomes provocative? Their mind begins looking for any signs to give their body a reason for release, even if those signs are entirely made-up. And every time they’re denied that release, the desire that previously coursed through their veins becomes frustration.
It fills them until there’s no room left for it inside of them, pushing their limits, like water pressure challenging the confinement of a pipe. Eventually the pressure becomes too much for the pipe to handle. Just a little bit more pressure and that pipe inevitably bursts.
You don’t think you’ve ever been more frustrated in your life. Maybe it’s an exaggeration but sitting here, barely two feet away from your boyfriend, watching him flip through his work files might be the last amount of pressure you can handle before your pipe bursts.
Even if you somehow manage to compose yourself, you know you’ll burst not long from now. You can’t really blame yourself. It’s been almost two full weeks since you’ve had any sort of release. Scratch that, it’s been almost two full weeks since Spencer’s even properly acknowledged your presence.
You haven’t even bothered to try and hide your shameless ogling. Not once has he looked up in your direction. So you continue to stare at the way his fingers slide down every page as his mind absorbs the information, turning the page before you even blink.
They move so elegantly. You trace the veins on his hands with your eyes. They’d look so nice wrapped around your thro - Lord, you can’t do this. Taking a deep breath, you decide it’s time to alert him of your presence.
“Spence?” Not mentioning that your presence has been lingering for almost half an hour. No response. How oblivious does he have to be? “Spencer?”
“Hm?” Even when you finally get a response, it’s barely a half-hearted one. Not even a glance up.
“You wanna take a small break? You’ve been going through that same file for ages now.” You attempt to fuel a conversation anyway.
“Can’t.”
You want to be upset, you really do, but your eyes are locked in on his fingers working that damn paper. Your mind wanders to all the times they slid along your thighs, just like that. Knees squeezing against each other to try and suppress the electric jolt that just ran up in between your thighs.
“Do you want me to order you some food?” You try to distract yourself from your current predicament, by focusing on your boyfriend’s well-being instead.
“No thank you. Just order for yourself.” There was really no point in trying when Spencer entered this headspace, it was almost impossible to get him out of it.
“I’m going out tonight, remember? Going clubbing with my friends?” Was he really so focused that he wasn’t even aware of your plans? Plans that you made infront of him this morning, by the way.
“That’s great Honey.”
Yes, you suppose he really was.
This was basically another rejection in a long list of rejections from the past two weeks. You doubt that he was even aware. That desire surging through you just a second ago morphed to frustration once again. In an attempt to let it be known, you blow out an annoyed huff as you get up from your seat.
No response.
The problem wasn’t that he was busy because of his job. You knew his job, you completely understood when he had to leave home at bizarre times. The problem was that he had been bringing his job home with him. It was hard enough to have his attention when he was actually at work, now you had to fight for it in your own home?
You make your way around the couch and sneak up on him from behind, resting your arms on his shoulders. Starting from the top of his head, you begin planting small kisses down his face until you reach his ear.
“Spence, c’mon you’ve been doing this for hours.” He leans back towards you, bringing the file with him, but keeping his eyes - and fingers - on that file. Seriously?
“Honey, I really can’t right now. You should start getting ready now for your plans.” Wow so he was aware. You should be elated, those were the most words you’d gotten out of him all week.
A dazed exhale escaped him when you nibbled on his ear. His head rolled back, giving you room to keep kissing down his neck. He slightly turns his head towards you and his hand captures your jaw in a light grip. It pulls you away from him, his voice calls out your name in a stern tone.
“Stop that, I said I’m busy. Go get ready.” His eyes remain on the page the whole time.
“Are you fucking kidding me?” You think. Your eyes roll on their own volition at the same time as you start to walk away.
“I saw that.” He warns.
“So do something about it.” You scoff in annoyance.
You’re actually hopeful that maybe he will do something about it. You remained hopeful for almost an hour while you got ready. Your hair gorgeously styled, seductive makeup enhancing your best features and now as you browse through your closet for a suitable dress to wear, there’s still no Spencer in sight.
You find a dress and make your way towards the dresser to see if it completes the look. You press the hanger against your shoulders, scanning from your neck-line down to your legs and unintentionally look towards your underwear drawer.
Just a few weeks ago, you were out shopping and were innocently asking for his opinion on a new set of lingerie you liked. When you hopped out of the dressing room to show him he didn’t even stop to look at it before he hauled your ass right back behind the curtain and re-dressed you himself.
Spencer may be the sweetest man alive, there’s no doubt about that, but most people don’t know that he’s possessive as hell. An idea pops into your head when you recall that he still hasn’t properly seen the under-wear.
You dig out the brand new set and take a second to admire how well it compliments your assets. You put the dress on over the lingerie and have to admit, you look really good. Anybody with half a brain could tell what you were wearing under the dress. Spencer would never let you leave the house like this, but he’d have to look at you first if he wants to stop you.
It’d be a shame if Spencer didn’t bother to pry his eyes away from his file so he could stop you. What would he do if he realised you’d been dancing around all night in nothing but a tiny dress that barely covers the promiscuous cloth under it? Not to mention the attached stockings it’s entirely unable to hide.
He’d spank you red, that’s what he’d do.
Either way, you’re going to get laid tonight. You get closer to the mirror by leaning into the dresser and spritz a few drops of your signature perfume around your pulse points. There’s still plenty of time left before you actually have to leave, but if you stay any longer you’re going to go insane watching Spencer use his fingers on anything other than yourself. You just need to get your keys from the kitchen counter, put on your shoes and you’re ready to go.
“I’m leaving now.” You yell out to Spencer. You don’t even have to look at him to know that he’s still sitting where you left him.
And yet again, no response. “How many files does he have in that satchel?” You wonder.
You reach for the keys on the counter and just as you grab them, Spencer’s hands surprise you by grabbing your waist. You almost squeal at the sudden contact. “Where do you think you’re going, hm?” His arms cross around your waist.
“Oh so you do remember I exist?” You snark, trying to play it cool.
You can’t let him have the upper hand just because he’s finally paying attention. He snakes a hand down to your thighs and lifts your dress up slightly, his body pushing against yours. He doesn’t even bother to comment on the jab you took at him.
“You still can’t respond properly.” You try for a response again.
Before you can comprehend his movements he’s stepped back and swung you around, his hands pressing on your hips, pushing your ass against the counter. He drinks in the sight in front of him as his eyes travel down your figure and back up, meeting yours. His tongue darts out and swipes across his lips, in true Spencer fashion. He lifts you up to sit on the counter as he steps in between your legs, closing the distance between you.
“Let me rephrase,” there’s a fire behind his eyes when he speaks, tone levelled, finger creeping inside the stocking’s band. He pulls it away from your skin when he speaks,
“where do you think you’re going…”
and lets it go
“...wearing this?”
The elastic slaps your thigh and adds to the emphasises of his last word. The close proximity, his lingering scent, voice, touch - your core was beginning to light up. It was dumb to think that you could keep the upper hand. Spencer had complete power over you and he knew that.
“I asked you a question.”
You were still going to try and challenge him, despite knowing better than to keep him waiting. It’s only fair, considering how long he made you wait. And how it took you acting out to make him notice you.
“The club, silly. With my friends. You keep forgetting.” You coyly answer, wrapping your arms around him as you lean in.
He raises both his brows in amusement and maintains eye contact, keeping his voice low and gentle.
“I haven’t forgotten. I just wonder why you want everybody else there ogling you. Don’t even try to deny it. It would only take a few drinks before you start stumbling on your ass, displaying yourself for anyone who wants a peak.” His grip on your thigh tightens.
Spencer didn’t actually care about what you wore, as long as he was the only one who saw what was underneath it. Your current attire went against that.
It took everything in you to not crash your lips on him right then. You wanted to feel him so bad but you couldn’t, not just yet. You pull out your most doe-eyed pout, eye contact still in place.
“If I can’t get my own boyfriend to pay attention to me then I’m going to have to get that attention from somewhere else.” An empty threat, you both knew that. Nobody else's attention mattered to you.
“Have I really neglected you so much?” He swallowed, not even blinking as he stared back.
Maybe you’ve been reading the signals wrong. You expected anger or annoyance, but the man in front of you looks almost…apologetic? You lean your head back slightly so you can read his face better. His expression is entirely apologetic, causing you to soften your features as well.
“Spencer I didn’t mean-”
“I know you didn’t.” He cuts in before you can finish. “I’m asking if I’ve been too neglectful.”
His hands roam from your thighs to your waist from under your dress, his fingers massaging you. You can’t pick up on his mood. He leans in and kisses your cheek.
“I’ve been ignoring you. I’m sorry” He reaches for your forehead and gives you a kiss there too, before coming back down to your other cheek. “Let me make it up to you.”
You expected him to punish you for acting up, his soft demeanour was throwing you off entirely.
“Spence, it’s okay. You can finish your work. I have to leave soon anyways.” You lied, unsure of how to act.
“No you don’t. Even if you leave an hour from now, you’ll still make it on time.” He moves to your jaw, leaving a kiss there. You melt at his tender touch. “Let me make it up to you. Anything you want, just ask.” He insists.
You wanted to resist, to reassure him, to make him feel less guilty. It had just been so long and your head was getting so cloudy. His lips felt so, so good against your skin.
“Ask.” He whispers, his voice so painfully sweet.
Your hand runs through his hair, the other one dragging along his back lightly. He pushes his clothed, but clearly hard, length against you and a soft whimper finds its way out of you. He was clearly just as turned on as you were.
“Please fuck me Spencer. Make me cum. Please.”
He pulls your dress over your head and throws it somewhere on the floor, leaving you only in your lingerie and returns to your neck. The grip in his hair becomes slightly tighter as you grind against him. He takes this as permission, grabbing you by your legs to pull you as close to him as possible and takes you in a deep, hungry kiss. Another whimper leaves you, travelling from your mouth into his.
He glides his tongue against yours, arms tightly hugging your waist. You’re both heated, panting heavily as you kiss, grinding against one another. Before things go any further, he pulls away.
“You wanna cum?” He glides his hands all the way up your torso, cupping your jaw in his hands.
“Mhm,” You nod, cupping his wrists “Please.”
He gives you a clumsy peck.
“I can help you do that. Let’s get you to bed. I’ll make you come. Would you like that, Princess?” His voice sounds so raspy, he’s almost whispering.
You don’t entirely trust his sweet demeanour, he’s never this nice when you’ve broken as many rules as you have. But fuuuckkk. You were so turned on right now and he looks so beautiful.
“Yes please!” You enthusiastically bounce off the counter, kissing him as you start to walk backwards. He doesn’t let the kiss fully break, walking with you, your hands feeling whatever part of each other they could.
You manage to find your way to the bedroom with some minor collisions against furniture, giggling every time. Your motions come to a halt when you reach the edge of the bed, the kiss deepens again.
Your hands start fumbling with his shirt and he works his belt, functioning as quickly as you can to get him undressed. His boxers slide off and you can’t help but break the kiss again to gawk at his shaft. Fucking hell, you’d seen it so many times and it’s still just as pretty. He kisses your forehead and chuckles.
“Like what you see, Princess?”
You smile, biting your lip in response but not taking your eyes off his length. He lifts your head back up by hooking his finger under your chin to meet his gaze and he returns to your kiss. You reach around your back to unclasp your bra and he grabs it in the middle, pushing you down on the bed gently.
The mattress catches you, but your bra is ripped away in his grasp. Spencer remains standing over you, eyeing your figure beneath him as he discards the laced bra on the floor.
“Well Handsome, you gonna join me or what?”
This earns you another chuckle as he leans down towards you, the mattress dipping from his weight. You shuffle back on the bed together, sharing another passionate kiss on the way. Both of you refuse to break away until you finally reach a place you mutually decide is comfortable.
Or at least, til Spencer decided it was comfortable enough and yanked you towards him until both your cores were completely pressed against together.
The only thing restricting complete contact was a flimsy piece of fabric and it was barely enough, judging by the needy whine that you let out when the underside of his cock brushed against your heat.
“So wet. So pretty.” Spencer groaned, kissing his way down your neck again.
His hands freely roam up your body again, stopping to cup and knead your breasts. He takes his time using his mouth, sucking on the flesh as he makes his way down from your collarbones to my sternum.
This must be your punishment. You’ll have to leave the house covered with his markings on your skin, warning anyone else who even thinks about touching you, that you belong to him.
“Fuck, Spencer.” You breathe out in desperation and grind your hips against him, earning you a gravelly moan. Your hands come off the bed and back into his hair, trapping him against you without applying pressure so that he can move about as he pleases.
When he’s satisfied with the bruises he’s stained you with, he licks a path from your sternum to your left tit, leaving his hand to continue playing with your right one. He sucks, nibbles, kisses and licks your nipple all while pinching and rolling the other one between his fingers.
“Spence, please!” You gasp, unable to control your hips.
“Mmm, my needy little whore.” He mumbles and begins a trail of kisses back down your torso, stopping just above your mound, but abandoning the region altogether as he diverts his path to your thigh instead. You whine at his delay to satiate the fire that he ignited.
“Shh, shh, shh,” he coos “patience Princess.”
You whine harder and he pinches your nipple, earning him a yelp.
He continues his motions up your thigh, kissing all the way to your knee before switching legs and trailing back down from your knee to your thigh. Every kiss sends electricity through your core, hands still in his hair, following his head wherever it moves.
“As much as I love you, if you don’t stop teasing me I’m going to fucking lose it.” You interrupt his foreplay, deciding that he had done enough priming.
He lets out a breathy chuckle, and it sends chills through your spine. Your body jerks up in reaction and he takes this opportunity to slide off your panties, leaving you bare, save for your stockings.
Cold air hits your heat and before you have the time to adjust to the feeling, he runs his tongue up your slit, flattening it entirely to cover as much surface area as possible. A loud, rippled moan emerges out of you, arch intensifying. Your hands tighten the grip on his hair automatically.
“Fuuuccckkkk.” is all you can muster in that moment, your brain short-circuiting.
Spencer focuses the tip of his tongue at the edge of your entrance, sampling the taste of your arousal before fully dipping in. His arms hold your legs apart in place and he sneaks his thumb to your clit.
You feel euphoric, you could float away. The feeling of his tongue pushing in and out of you was enough to leave you grabbing at his shoulders, digging your nails in slightly. Your hips started rocking against his face, Spencer had to physically hold them down as he shifted his mouth's attention from your entrance to your clit.
“Hold still,” he ordered in the most gentle tone, the vibrations from his voice causing goosebumps, “you’re doing so well, Sweet Girl.”
You squeaked when you felt his mouth circle around your bud, sucking gently. As he worked you with his tongue, You felt him enter a finger inside you. His name rolled off your tongue in a sigh, your hand back in his hair pulling slightly and causing him to erotically groan.
The sounds coming from between your legs were so sinful and lewd, only amplifying when he added a second finger. His pace increased with the addition, fingers curling slightly while he pumped.
Your eyes rolled to the back of your head, vocabulary reduced to filthy swears and moans. You could feel your orgasm pending below my abdomen. Spencer didn’t slow down, even when you tried to buck away from his touch.
He was persistent in following you, his head moving wherever you tried to escape to. When he felt that he couldn’t keep up, he held you down by applying the entire pressure of his forearm against your pelvis.
“Spencer, Spencer, Spencer!” Each repetition got louder, you didn’t know what you were trying to say. He only sucked harder at your cries.
“So, so, so, so, clo - mmmh” Was all you could manage to say, your head lolling back into the bed.
“So good for me.” He uttered, making your thighs squeeze around his head. Spencer knew just what to say to get you to the edge. Your senses began to cloud in ecstasy, you were on the brink of your orgasm.
His slender fingers were working you from the inside, his skilled tongue was working you from the outside, you could barely keep your breathing in order. Your walls started clenching around the intrusion, your legs dug into the mattress, one hand pulling on his curls and the other hand digging into his forearm holding you down.
You were just on the verge of cumming when Spencer pulled out his fingers and stopped his motions. The whine you let out was visceral.
“What the fuck?” It was a genuine question.
The only response he gave was a puppy eyed stare, so full of adoration as he trailed his way back up to you with more tender kisses. You propped yourself on your elbows, trying to read into his expression.
You were so confused. Were you being punished?
He must’ve picked up on your thoughts because he skipped over your chest entirely to whisper in your ear.
“I’m sorry Princess.” He pecks your cheek, dragging his lips across your face to your lips.
You return the kiss, but don’t hesitate to question his motives once you’re finally able to find your words.
“Why’d you stop?” Tone pathetically whiney.
He kisses you again, stronger this time as he rests his fingers under your chin.
“I want to fuck you.”
He turns your head slightly to the side so he can whisper in your ear again.
“I want to fuck you until cum on my cock. Is that something you want me to do Princess?”
His voice sounded like he was whispering sweet affirmations, but his words were so filthy. The contrast had you clenching around nothing. Spencer loved hearing you confirm how bad you wanted him.
“Princess?” He turns your face to him again, so he can look into your eyes. “I asked you something.”
The eye contact feels so intense, it causes your breath to hitch a little.
“Yes.”
He moves in just a little closer, lips grazing.
“Yes?” He was testing you.
You should be grateful he was only testing you instead of tying you up and edging you all night for being a brat. That was still a possibility and you really don’t have the patience to wait anymore. You knew exactly what you had to say.
“Yes, please! I want to you to fuck me until I cum on your cock.”
That was all it took for his lips to come crashing down on yours. This kiss felt different to all the others tonight.
Almost like it held a hidden meaning.
He hooked his arms around your thighs and wrapped you around his waist. Neither of you pulls away, until you both gasp into each other’s mouths as he finally enters you.
He fills you up slowly, until there’s no more of him left to give and your arms instinctively drape against his shoulders. The second your bodies adjust comfortably, he pulls out slowly until just the tip is left in you, thrusting back in after a second.
You moan at the intrusion, pulling him closer for another kiss. He continues thrusting in and out, your make-out getting more careless as you moan into each other and his pace gradually picks up.
Your bodies move in sync, chasing a mutual high. His moans only encourage you to keep meeting his thrusts. He lifts one of your legs higher along his side, the tip of his shaft lightly bumping your cervix with every thrust from this angle.
“Feels..so..good...” You moan against his mouth.
“Yea?” He questions softly.
“Mhm.”
“How does this feel?” He reaches between your bodies to play with your clit as he fucks you. Your fingers dig into his back at the sensation, brows furrowing in an attempt to hold it together.
“Reall- fuck, really good.” You choke on your words from the intense pleasure.
He keeps up his pace and you feel yourself getting close.
“Spencer, I’m clos-” You don’t get to finish your sentence, Spencer interrupting you with his lips on yours.
“Cum for me Pretty Girl.” He coaxes, pulling away.
“I wanna finish together.” You plead, hoping he was as close as he seemed from the way he was grunting.
“We will. Just let yourself go Princess. I’ve got you.” There was mischief laced with his promise, but you didn’t pick up on it.
The coil in you was almost at its breaking point. It only took a few deep thrusts and you felt it snap. The feeling forced your eyes to the back of your head and your mouth aimlessly spewed random obscenities.
Your orgasm had been brewing for almost two whole weeks and when you were finally allowed release, well, the release was really intense. Spencer was no longer moving inside you once you finally came down from your high.
“Thank yo-” your gratitude was cut off by a loud wail when you felt Spencer slam back into you. You hadn’t noticed him shift into an up-right position, his hands pinning you to the bed by your hips as he continues fucking you with a brutal pace.
“Oh I’m sorry,” his demeanour shifted to demanding, “what were you saying?”
“Spence, fuck-” You couldn’t think properly with the way he was pounding into you. “What-” Your inability to speak matched your inability to think.
He abruptly pulls out of you, flips you over and pulls you up by your hair. He then grabs your wrists with his free hand and pins both your hands behind your back, pulling your back to rest against his chest so he could whisper directly in your ear.
“You asked me to fuck you. I’m just giving you what you want.” His tone remained soft, but it was laced with a harsh, taunting aura.
You were utterly flabbergasted. You had pissed him off. Spencer played you. His previous notion of ‘wanting to make it up to you was a decoy. He planned to properly punish you the whole time, buttering you up for his own entertainment.
Letting go of your hair, he pushes you back into the mattress, ass up in the air. He keeps your arms pinned and before you can make any noise, the air cracks to the sound of him spanking you.
Hard.
You squirm, burying your face into the mattress to muffle a surprised shriek. He leans down against you, re-aligning his lips to your ear.
“I’m going to count as I spank you. And for every single one, I want you to tell me one thing you did wrong tonight. Do you understand?” The setting had shifted entirely. Spencer had fully embraced his dominant role and you knew you had to be careful if you didn’t want the punishment to be too prolonged.
“Yes Sir!”
“One.” His first smack was lighter than the one he surprised you with just a second ago.
“I rolled my eyes.”
“Two.” Hand hitting over the exact same spot as before.
“I was mouthy.”
“Three.” This time he hit the other cheek.
“I- I don’t know-” You really didn’t.
Well you did, but whenever Spencer punished you, your brain turned to mush. You couldn’t think, it turned you on so much that you became stupid.
“Wrong. You dressed like a whore just to get a reaction out of me. We’re going to start again.” The force he hit with that time was unforgiving. you wailed at the sting.
“One.”
You had to restart at least two more times, your recall ability getting weaker with each blow. By the time Spencer finished, both cheeks were stinging.
He runs his middle finger through your slit, collecting your arousal and pushes it inside you. “Of course you’re even wetter now.” He snickers, you could only moan in response.
“Nothing? You had so much to say before.” He finally lets go of your wrists, allowing them to fall to the sides and he rubs your sensitive behind.
“I’m sorry for being a brat.” You muster as you try to flip around and face him.
“You will be.” He stops you and twists you back into position.
Face down, ass up.
“Get comfortable Princess, I’m not done with you yet.”
With that, he enters you in one quick motion, building to the brutal pace he originally set in no time. You swear it’s like you feel more of him now than you could before. Your hands rush to grip the bed sheets to try and keep yourself grounded.
“Spencer- ah-” He grips a handful of your flesh to shut you up.
“The only sounds I want coming out of you right now are the ones where you scream my name. Do I make myself clear?”
“Yessir!” You cry out from the pain.
He’s practically fucking you into the mattress at this point, every thrust so harsh, so precise, hitting that sweet spot inside you over and over. Everytime his body meets your behind the sting intensifies, as if he keeps adding fuel to the fire he set on your skin, blurring the lines between pain and pleasure.
“Shit- Spen-” You can’t hold yourself back, the only thing on your mind is him, his name falling from your lips as if it was a song stuck on a broken record.
Your senses were on overload. He was consuming your entire being. You could feel every inch of him inside you and you didn’t want to stop. Your core began to tingle, feeling another orgasm approach you, reducing you to a blubbering mess. The room was filled with sounds of your moans and skin slapping against each other.
“I’m gonna cum, gonna cum, gonn-” Your words fade out.
“Go ahead, cum.” Spencer orders in between thrusts. “Cum all over my cock.”
His permission is all it takes for stars to come down from the sky and take hold in your vision. The sheets aren’t enough to keep you anchored and if it weren’t for Spencer’s grip on you, you’d have fallen flat against the bed.
It takes a few minutes for you to catch your breath, knuckles white from how hard you scrunched the sheets in your fingers. He’s still inside you when you come down again, just watching without saying a word.
“Colour?” Spencer leans in above you from behind, planting a kiss on your shoulder. A reminder of his promise that he’s got you.
“Green.” You wearily whisper. Your legs were burning, your body was utterly exhausted, but you enjoyed it when he used you in spite of the fact.
“Good. You’re going to give me one more.”
He plants another kiss and wraps a hand around your neck, the other sneaking between your breasts. Without using any force, he pulls you up in his lap, your back to his chest. A whimper chokes out of you when his length brushes against your inflamed bud.
“You look so pretty like this Princess.” He coos in short breaths. “All red and fucked out for me. Only me.”
He lowers his hand from the apex of your breast to his shaft, so that he can align himself with your entrance again. You subconsciously arch in anticipation, eager to have him fill you again despite your physical debilitation.
Once he’s lined up, his hand travels up again, stopping at the height of your hip. He pushes you down at the same time as he moves up, a loud moan erupting from both of you.
“You take me so well Princess.” Spencer praises.
Your eyes roll to the back for a second time tonight as your head falls against his collarbone. While his initial pace was slow, it didn’t take long for him to speed it back up to ruthless - you have to admire his stamina.
He lowers his mouth to just below your jaw, his fingers tightening around the sides of your neck, limiting the blood supply to your brain. At the same time, he starts sucking another hickey on your skin and your jaw hangs open to allow passage to a series of moans as a result.
“You enjoy being fucked like a whore hmm?”
The contrast between praise and degradation had you clenching, resulting in desperate grumbles from him. His grip only tightens more when you take too long to answer.
“Yessir-” You stifle, brain going fuzzy from the lack of oxygen. He loosens his grip and smiles, lips grazing your cheek.
You’re beside yourself, all your control had been relinquished to this man long ago. You feel him play with your clit, circling and flicking the bud. It’s already swollen from previous use, the overstimulation is too much for your body to handle. Unable to squirm away from him, you grasp at his wrist, attempting to push him away.
Spencer doesn’t relent and you’re too weak to use any force. Everything he does is pushing you over the edge and all you’re able to do is whine and moan.
“Use your words Princess? What do you want? Do you want me to stop?” He sneers, knowing that’s not at all what you want.
“N-No Sir.”
“No? You want me to keep going? Want me to make you cum again?” Small grunts slip from him when he speaks, fingers speeding up between your legs. “You gonna be a good little slut and give me one more?”
“I ca-can’t, it’s to-ah - too much-''
“Oh so now it’s too much for you?”
There’s nothing romantic about your current disposition. It was purely salacious- his hand on your neck, the other between your legs, you practically kneeling against him with your back to his chest as he pounds into you from behind, the sounds created from your bodies melding and pouring from your throats.
You’re practically a free use doll for him. Your need to release from earlier today was nothing compared to how bad you need to cum now. You feel like you might explode from the extreme pleasure.
“Spen-Spence- fuck- pleasepleaseplease-”
“Oh my poor, sweet little Princess, doesn’t even know what she wants. Can’t even think because her brain’s too fucked out. Maybe I should stop, let you get a break.” Spencer mocks.
“Nononono, please! So close, Im so-fuck!”
Spencer keeps his pace on your clit, but slows down his hips when speaking.
“I think we should stop here.” He taunts. “Just look at you! You’re a mess. I don’t think you know what you want.”
“Yes-Yes I do- I do! Please Spence- don’t stop!”
“I can’t help you if you’re not making sense. Speak clearly, what do you want me to do?” Your desperation was thrilling for him. He wanted to draw it out as long as he could by teasing you.
“I’m so-close, I c-can’t!”
His fingers tighten around your throat again.
“Yes you can. You can and you will. Use your words, what do you want?”
“Ple-ease Sir, let me c-cum.”
He purposely thrusts as hard as he can when you speak to throw you off, so you have to repeat yourself.
“I said clearly, Princess. That was not clear enough.” He teases, smugly.
You inhale deeply.
“Please let me cum, Sir.”
Satiated with your answer, Spencer releases your throat and speeds up again. It doesn’t take long before he becomes sloppy with his movements. The final few thrusts are buried as deep within you as physically possible and you surrender to your climax.
Not even a moment after you finish, Spencer empties himself inside of you, hot ropes of his cum filling you up as he buries his head in the crook of your neck. A synched, loud moan concludes your tango and you fall limp against each other before you tumble onto the mattress.
Both take a moment, heaving intensely as you lay side by side. Spencer’s hand finds yours and he rubs small, soothing circles on the back of it.
“What was that?” You ask when you feel enough air fill your lungs.
He gradually turns his head to you, eyes darting as if he was searching for something in the back of his mind.
“Malicious compliance. For a lack of better wording.” He answers in a whisper, trying to catch his breath. You snort weakly, not much energy in your body to spare.
“You should maliciously comply more often.”
“I don’t think you actually want me to maliciously comply.” He pants.
Re-adjusting to face him and you just stare at each other for a moment. A breathless fit of giggles sparks amongst you. When you fall silent again, you just lie there, staring deeply into each other's eyes.
“Let’s get you cleaned up. Hmm?” He intertwines his fingers with yours.
“How you have any energy left to get up is beyond me.”
“Oh believe me, I don’t,” still panting, “but I really want to take care of you right now.”
“You just did.” You counter.
There’s a hint of penitence in his eyes, so fleeting that you almost miss it. you want to question it, but it’s quickly replaced by the expression of rapture.
“Come on Honey.” He implores and you make a mental note to ask him later.
He takes your hands and pulls you up with him. You both lazily make your way to the bathroom, you hold on to him the whole way, scared that your legs alone won’t be strong enough to carry you right now.
Immediately upon seeing your reflection, you laugh awkwardly. Mascara was running down your face, your lipstick all smudged, you truly looked like a mess. Spencer kisses your temple and turns on the shower, returning to you while you wait for the water to heat up.
He props you on the bathroom counter, removing your stockings for you, peppering you in thankful kisses. You reach over for your make-up remover and Spencer grabs the cotton wipes, insistent on removing it for you. His touch is light as he carefully wipes cosmetic residue from your face.
The bathroom fogs up and you finally get in the shower. Neither of you speak, reserving your strength to keep you standing. Instead, you wrap your arms around each other, letting go only to aid in washing your bodies. Both of you stay in the shower for a little bit longer than intended, just holding the other.
“I’m going to make us some tea. Will you be okay to finish off here by yourself?” He speaks up after a little while.
“Yea I’ll be fine. I’ll join you in a minute.”
He gives you a quick peck, then two, before he leaves. You take your time, peeing after your shower when you remember Spencer’s lecture on avoiding UTIs from when you first started dating. Once you’re all nice and clean, you slip into one of Spencer’s shirts and some fresh underwear.
You walk into the living room to find Spencer sitting on the couch, two cups of tea on the coffee table, while he fiddles with his files again. Great. Opting to ignore it due to your fatigue, you march into the kitchen to grab your phone.
Your abandoned dress is neatly draped on one of the dining chairs. Spencer must've picked it up when he was making tea. You grab your phone to find many missed calls from your friends. Fuck. You had forgotten about your plans.
You quickly shoot them a text to apologise and make some excuse for your absence, promising to make it up to them soon.
“Honey, you okay?” Spencer calls out from the living room.
You make your way back to him upon hearing his voice. “Yea, I was just texting my friends.”
“Would you like to do that sitting down? Your tea’s getting cold.” He extends his hand out to you from the couch and you take it, sinking into his embrace.
“Don’t you have to go back to your files?” When you look around, the files are nowhere to be seen.
“No. No more working on files.” He sighs
“Spence, what’s wrong?” You ask, pulling away from his arms. “You have that look on your face again.”
“I’ve been neglecting you. And I’m sorry.”
That’s what it was.
“Oh, Honey. It’s okay, I mean I get it. It’s your job.”
“You don’t have to do that. This isn’t part of my job. It’s just this one case that’s really getting to me and I’ve let it take over my life outside the job.” Guilt rides his features. You cup his face in your hands and he takes hold of your wrist.
“I won’t lie to you. It’s hard, but I know how much the BAU means to you.” You console.
“It does mean a lot. But so do you.” He shakes his head as he pulls you into another hug. “I’ve seen what this job does to people. To relationships. I value you too deeply to let that happen to us. I promise that from now, work stays at work. When I come home, I’m all yours.”
“Jesus I love this man.” You proclaim to yourself silently. “Thank you for that.” is what you say aloud.
“Infact,” Spencer's the one to pull away this time. He reaches over for his phone and begins texting someone, “just give me a second.”
“What are you doing?”
It takes him some time to reply. Texting is not one of his strong suits, he needs to pay a little more attention to the task than most people.
“I’ve just texted Hotch for some time off. I hope you don’t have any plans this weekend, because you and I are going to spend the entirety of it together.” He smiles goofily.
“I love you.” You blurt out with more passion than you were expecting.
“And I love you.” He replies with equal enthusiasm, leaning in his lips against yours.
The kiss is so emotional, so raw, so perfect.
“Now,” He brushes your hair behind your ear, “let’s finish this tea and get to bed. I have two weeks worth of cuddling to make up for, I believe.���
“So you’ve been counting too?” You laugh.
“I count every second I don’t spend with you so that I know to make up for it properly.” He confides.
You almost jump at him for another kiss, unable to contain your emotions. This man was perfect in every sense of the word to you.
As the two of you sat there, just talking, desire surged through your body once again, but in a different way this time. It was more than a desire for pleasure. It was a desire for the man you’re lucky enough to call your boyfriend. A desire to just be in his presence, to be loved by him and to love him in his entirety. A desire for Spencer Reid.
Spoilers: Established relationship, Dom! Spencer, Possessive! Spencer, Sub! Reader, Bratty! Reader, soft & rough sex, spanking, degrading kink, praise kink, breast play, name calling, choking, hair pulling, fingering, slight edging (barely), overstimulation, creampie, after-care, fluff.
AN - Hey guys I’m beginning to sense that I might be incapable of not writing fluff in every story and I recognise it may need to stop. Anyways when imagining this, my brain decided it should include vanilla, soft dom and mean dom Spencer all in one, I’m sorry for that.
Shoutout to all the smut writers out there, this is my first smut piece and it was so fucking complicated to write. There’s only so many ways you can write smut, y’all are dedicated.
To all my virgins out there: please keep in mind that this does not represent real sex and barely is sex ever even slightly close to as good as we imagine in fanfics. Also women's bodies do not react the way we read most of the time.
Feel free to drop helpful constructive criticism, I’m always looking to improve :)
Added AN - Just re-read this, I am deeply sorry for all the grammatical errors. I fixed what I could just now, but the reposts won't update with the edits. My bad people!
Thank you for reading!
#spencer reid fanfiction#spencer reid x reader#spencer reid x you#spencer reid imagine#spencer reid#criminal minds fanfiction#criminal minds imagine#criminal minds x reader#criminal minds fandom#ssa spencer reid#bau team#spencer reid fic#spencer reid fluff#spencer reid smut#smut and fluff#fluff and smut#criminal minds smut#spencer reid x fem!reader#fem!reader#smut
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STILL GOIN' TIL 6 IN THE MORN!
✫ ˚♡ ⋆｡ ❀ synopsis: with work piling and little time to with his supportive wife, Nanami's left with one option!
✫ ˚♡ ⋆｡ ❀ pairings: wife!fem!reader x nanami kento
✫ ˚♡ ⋆｡ ❀ cw: 1.5k+ words, headcannon+ drabble format, oral(f.receiving), crémepies, implied oversimulation
✫ ˚♡ ⋆｡ ❀ words from chris: this piece is in honor of @s0dium 's milestone event! congrats to you darling!
Time has always been the only thing Nanami can’t help, no matter how much he tries.
From dawn to dusk, his mind’s plagued with thoughts of work—deadlines, team meetings, trying to maintain his composure.
But truth is—he’s just teasing past his own limits, something he’s been staring at for the last few weeks. Work takes up his entire life and leaves what matters most to him on the back burner, including his precious wife.
Only the heavens know you take it, but it’s the one prayer of Nanami’s that seems to hold true. He has to wonder—how do you deal with him?
You’re always there with a warm home, a hot meal, kind words, and a smile that does nothing but milk the guilt from Nanami’s soul. He knows his work life is taking a toll on you, but you hide it so well for him.
It’s rare when Nanami chooses himself, but when he does, he’s acting in your favor too. There’s only one place Nanami’s willing to go into overtime for…
It’s been hours since Nanami piloted his own course and it’s been a hell of a ride. A ride that’s got you lathered in sweat, your hot skin spry from countless orgasms, and a nasty endurance to keep up with the likes of your husband.
He’s managed to lure you beneath his spell of thanks to the simple question about his day. That’s how he got you because he did tell you about his day—but with his head buried between your lips and his lips busy with your pussy.
He took his time to spell out every. single. word with deft strokes of his tongue. Filth was the only way to describe the way his tongue coils at your clit, enlisting help from the thick pad of his thumb to pull back the puffy hold. It was all for good measure, he was just taking extra care to emphasize that the ‘S’ bleeds through.
And because of his carefulness, you were already creaming on his tongue before he was done explaining with his morning.
Since you wanted to know about his whole day, Nanami had no choice but to sit back on his haunches and explain the rest.
An explanation that came with that devastating stretch of his cock.
An explanation that came in delirious strides of Nanami’s hips against your own. He’s desperate for the heaven he knows exists because you’re right in front of him. So he’ll work, work at your sweet spot to draw out that blossoming heat nestled at your core in hopes that you’ll introduce him to that same nirvana.
And it’s been how many rounds? The numbers didn’t matter much when each time he paints your walls white, his balls are forced to bear yet another swelling bloat of cum.
He’s filled you more times than your poor brain would let you count and he still wasn’t finished.
And maybe it’s the fatigue talking, but Nanami’s just can’t bring himself to part from you. Were you always this tight? This warm?Just the teasing flit of your silky walls was enough to send Nanami spiraling down his own fever dream.
And it’s so selfish of him to force you into his sick game, but he’s missed this more than you know. Seeing those tears decorate your puffy cheek, your hands clawing merciful crimson streaks along his tummy, and your pretty pussy sputtered dumb with slick and split around the pudgy girth of his cock.
“Mmm. K-Ken…”you whimper, turning your head away from his sinful gaze.
“Hm, talk to me, Angel. T-Tell me ‘nd it’s yours.”
And the words are sitting right at the tip of your tongue, but your lulling eyes fall on a sight that breaks the spell of lust over your body.
That damned alarm clock.
“Kento! Hold on, it’s…6 o’clock! You’ve gotta—”
“Shhh, don’t…hah fuck…don’t worry, Baby.”
Oh, it’s so cute how much you care about him. You’re a sputtering mess on his cock but his work still finds room inside that hazy brain of yours.
He’s thinking about what a horrible life he’s conditioned upon you. Not a hair on your pretty head should even think about that wretched place and here you are paying it a thought during a time that’s sacred between man and wife.
Just to ease that burden off of you, Nanami leans in to press a sweet kiss on your lips. It’s six in the morning but Nanami’s far from reaching his goal.
His goal of focusing on you.
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#jujutsu kaisen#jujustsu kaisen smut#jjk nanami#nanami kento smut#jujustsu kaisen x reader#jujutsu kaisen x reader#jjk drabbles#jjk smut#jujutsu kaisen smut#jujutsu kaisen nanami#nanami smut#nanami kento#nanami x reader#jujutsu nanami#nanami x you#jjk x reader#cw sex mention#cw smut#//✫ ˚♡ ⋆｡ ❀—𝐍𝐀𝐍𝐀𝐌𝐈!//#//✫ ˚♡ ⋆｡ ❀—𝐂𝐇𝐑𝐈𝐒’𝐒 𝐐𝐔𝐈𝐋𝐋!//
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What would the hyung line's reaction be to getting caught having sex by their parents and for the maknae line getting caught making out by their parents
Walk Ins ┃ENHYPEN
enhypen x reader
nsfw! smut
enhypen getting caught fucking/making out w their gf by their parents
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Heeseung:
"Baby.. Shh.. You're gonna get us caught." Heeseung whispers, hips moving faster in making their meet against yours as he struggles to hold back his own noises. "Fuck.. Heeseung. I'm so close." You moan, the sound getting muffled as he covers your mouth. "Shut up."
The door then opens, Heeseung's mother walking in as she pauses. "Oh.. I forgot she was here I should've knocked." She covers her eyes, sighing as Heeseung groans out of embarrassment. "Mom! Get out please!" He yells as his mother rolls her eyes behind her hand. "If you wanna have sex in peace, move out. If you guys get hungry after, I made some dinner. It's in the kitchen." She says simply before leaving.
You laugh quietly once she leaves, making Heeseung groan. "It's not funny.. She's gonna tell my dad." He whines as you shrug. "Then let's finish up before she does.."
Jay:
"Slow down. You're making the bed creak too much." You let out a quiet moan, arms wrapped loosely around Jay's neck as he thrusted into you, moving slightly too fast out of desire to reach climax faster. You were currently visiting his parents, and he just couldn't wait, so you gave in. But you immediately regretted it when his dad walked in. Jay was quick to cover your exposed skin, eyes immediately darting towards his father's. "Woah.. Uhm. Maybe I should've knocked.." His dad mumbled nervously, looking away. Jay had immediately sighed. "What do you need, dad? This is kind of awkward enough already.."
At Jay's words, his father clears his throat. "Oh well.. Uhm, I was gonna ask if you wanted to watch the game with me... Your mom said she wanted to hang out with Y/n too, but I'll just tell her you guys are busy."
He then closed the door, footsteps fading out as he walked away. You were just laying there shocked, but also not shocked. "Why did he take it so well?.." You ask as Jay sighs. "He didn't.. I'm gonna get so much shit about this tomorrow.."
Jake:
"Jake.. I swear, if your mom walks in I'm breaking up with you." You threatened as Jake laughed beneath you, his hands sliding underneath your shirt to grip your hips as he helped you move your hips on him. "She's not gonna come in. She should be sleep right now." He responds with an overly cocky tone, thrusting his hips upwards to meet yours as you bite your lip to supress a moan. You had let go slightly, deciding to believe Jake, but it's not even a moment before his mom is walking in, flipping the light switch on. "Jaeyun- oh.."
She immediately froze and so did you and Jake. "I heard a noise, so I wanted to check in.. I see you're fine. Goodnight." She then shut the lights off before leaving quickly, Jake started laughing. You slapped his chest. "That's not funny!" You were so embarrassed, but Jake couldn't stop laughing. "She's fine.. This isn't the first time it's happened."
Sunghoon:
"Park Sunghoon. We're literally at your parents house and your sister's room is across the hall. I'm not letting you fuck me right now." Is what you said thirty minutes ago when Sunghoon first said he was horny. Now he has you pressed into his mattress, and you can't even complain.
He's eager, and his second orgasm is nearing, much like yours. It's almost cruel how fast he has to stop when his dad walks in, immediately sheilding his eyes as he sees the position you two are in. "Dad, do you ever knock!?" Sunghoon sighs, covering you with the blanket as he rushed to pull his previously discarded shirt over his head. His father was clearly flustered, coughing loudly to ease the tension. "I'm sorry.. I forgot.. Your mother and I made dinner plans. If you two aren't too busy, maybe you'd like to come with us.."
Sunghoon sighs, nodding as he runs a hand through his hair. "Okay.. We'll be down soon." He responds. His dad gives a curt nod before he leaves, closing the door. Sunghoon collapses on top of you, chuckling. "He looked so scared.."
You simply laughed, kissing Sunghoon's cheek. "Let's get cleaned up, we'll finish this later."
Sunoo:
"I missed you today.." Sunoo mumbled between kisses, his hands resting on your waist comfortably. "It's not my fault you skipped school today." You retorted, earning an eyeroll from your boyfriend. He then kissed you again, pulling you closer. You were basically on top of him, straddling his lap as you played with his hair. Everything was so sweet and loving until it wasn't.
"Sunoo, I'm home-" You both immediately averted your gazes towards the living room doorway as Sunoo's mother stared slightly shocked. She always liked you and thought you were very sweet towards her son, but she'd prefer not to walk in seeing you on his lap. "Mom, I thought you were gonna be late tonight?" Sunoo asked as you held back a laugh, hiding your face against his shoulder. "I'm glad I got off work earlier, otherwise I would've come back to find that I'm gonna be a grandma."
Jungwon:
"I promise you that nothing happened between us, her crush is one sided.." Jungwon explained as you nodded, feeling more assured after seeing some other girl touching him. He had kissed you, wanting to display his love for you, and eventually you were both making out on his bed. His hands on your waist, yours on his chest. This was probably only the third or fourth time you've ever made out. And of course you regret ever doing it when Jungwon's dad walks in.
"Sorry to interrupt, your mother asked me to call you guys down for dinner..." He then leaves quickly, making Jungwon sigh. "He's never letting this go." You simply press a kiss to Jungwon's lips before getting off the bed. "It's fine. Let's hurry down stairs before he gets the chance to tell your mom."
Riki:
"I don't wanna talk about it, actually." You were upset with Riki because of something that happened after school, and he gave some stupid explanation which only made you more mad. For the sake of not arguing at his house and alerting his sisters, you told him to drop it, but he clearly didn't intend to. "Y/n, I told you that it wasn't my fault, can't you just listen."
He pressed you against the kitchen counter, trying to trap you so you had no choice but to listen. When he finally caught your gaze, he kissed you, cupping your jaw as he pulled you closer. Your anger dissipated easily, your focus falling onto the kiss as you rested your hands on his hips, looping your fingers through his belt loops. He smiled against your lips, pulling away slightly.
His eyes opened to meet yours, but he also caught his mother's gaze from his peripherals. "Hey mom." He greeted awkwardly, pulling away from you completely as his mother walked into the kitchen, setting her groceries on the counter. You had smiled and waved shyly at her.
"You know Riki, I hope this girlfriend of yours can teach you to study the way she's taught you to kiss."
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thank you so much for your request!
im trying to go as fast as possible but I'm in my last week of school so no promises on being fast for now.
#enhypen#enhypen imagines#enhypen scenarios#enhypen hyung line#enhypen hard hours#enhypen hard headcanons#enhypen hard thoughts#enha smut#enhypen heeseung#sunghoon enhypen#enhypen jay#enhypen jake#enhypen sunoo#enhypen jungwon#niki enhypen#park jongseong#park sunghoon#jake sim#lee heeseung#yang jungwon#kim sunoo#nishimura riki#enhypen maknae line
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