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cupid-styles · 13 hours

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brat (sex columnist!harry x best friend!y/n)

in which y/n is best friends with harry, a sex columnist, who needs a little help answering a reader's question.

word count: 3k

content warnings: SMUT!!!! (mean dom/bratty sub dynamic, dirty talk, pussy spanking, paddling, sir kink, degradation, slight edging, fingering)

masterlist | talk to me

. . .

“You’re out of your mind.”

“I’m really not.”

“No, but you are.”

“It would be for work and work only—”

“I don’t care.”

Harry sighs as he lifts a hand to run it through his curly hair. The noisy puff of air is filled with unsaid annoyance and Y/N tries her best not to roll her eyes at her best friend’s stubbornness, instead focusing on toying with the bracelet around her wrist. Instead of replying, he quickly runs his fingertips over the trackpad on his laptop so it glows back to life.

“Can you at least hear me out?” he asks, his tone teetering on a polite plea, “You know writing about sex is my job. How am I supposed to help this person out when I can’t even offer a fair answer?”

Y/N crosses her arms and shrugs and Harry wishes he could reach across the couch and push them to her sides.

“What makes you think I have any experience being a sub, anyway?” she fires back, keeping her eyes glued on the TV in front of them.

They're currently binging the newest season of The Bachelor, but Harry was more so using the dialogue and Y/N’s periodic gasps as background noise. For the past year or so, he’s held down a job at an online publication as a sex columnist. He loves it — people write in anonymously, asking him questions about everything from premature ejaculation to open relationships. Under the pen name H.E. Bell, he gets paid to write lengthy, thoughtful responses, helping his readers with approaching whatever sexual issue they’re facing. And this week, his editor really wants him to address a particular question about a dominant and submissive relationship.

The thing is, though, is the letter comes from a sub. And Harry’s a dom.

A mean one, at that.

So while Y/N’s diving into a pint of her favorite flavor of Ben & Jerry’s ice cream (Phish Food, obviously), and Harry’s trying his best — and miserably failing — to place himself in the shoes of his submissive reader, he knows what he has to do.

“I hate to tell you, but you scream submissive,” Harry replies, pushing his laptop off of the couch and onto the coffee table. “Don’t even try to deny it. Just… just hear me out. Please. My deadline’s tomorrow afternoon.”

Y/N lets out an irritated huff as she grabs the TV remote and presses pause. Silently, she sits back against the couch, facing her best friend, and shoots him a displeased expression; a wordless allowance to speak.

“I’m a dom and I’ve literally always been that way. You’re a sub, through-and-through. This person is asking about situations pertaining to experience as a submissive, and I can’t really provide them with the advice that they’re looking for since I’ve never been in that headspace.”

Y/N shrugs carelessly. She’s unbothered by his frank analysis of her subordinate behavior — it’s not exactly surprising that Harry, the sex columnist, is able to identify a sub, dom, or switch from 10 miles away. But that doesn’t mean she has to get dragged into his research, or whatever the hell he was trying to play it off as.

“Why don’t you just skip the question, then?” Y/N asks. “If you don’t have the right resources to offer an answer—”

“My editor thinks it’ll bring in a lot of page views,” he says, his throat bobbing with a swallow. His eyebrows draw together some, creating a small worried wrinkle between them. “Listen, I’ll fuck off if you’re totally uncomfortable with helping me, but you’re my best friend and I don’t know who else I could ask with this short of a timeframe.”

She sighs and brings her knees up to her chest.

“Fine. Read me the question.”

A grin breaks out on Harry’s face as he grabs his laptop. He taps on the trackpad a few times as he brings the email up on the screen, eyes scanning over his bright inbox.

“Okay, here’s what they said,” he clears his throat and Y/N really does roll her eyes this time, “Dear H.E.— I’ve been in a sexual relationship with my dominant for three months. Up until now, we’ve clicked really well. The chemistry is great and we always mesh really well both during scenes and aftercare. But lately, I’m worried I’ve been a little too bratty. For context, I’m a bratty sub with an attitude, but my dom knew that going into this. I fear that they’ll grow tired of my nonsense and insistent disobedience, but when I’m in my subspace or engaging in a scene with them, it’s hard for me to pull away from it. What should I do? Do you have any advice for what I can do as a sub to best help my dom?”

Y/N’s plucking at her bottom lip as Harry glances up from his computer. Blinking, she thinks for a moment before crafting a response.

“Well, it sounds like the sub needs to communicate their feelings to their dom. There seems to be a lot of insecurity.” she says. He hums, nodding his head as he types a few words on his keyboard.

“Yeah, that’s true,” he murmurs, “They said it’s hard for them not to be in that bratty headspace, though.”

She shrugs, “I mean, if you’re a bratty sub, you’re a bratty sub. That’s just who you are.”

“Do you think there are any punishments that would work, then?”

“You’re the dom, shouldn’t you be able to answer that question?”

“I guess,” he replies, running his palm over the short bit of facial hair that’s grown on his chin in the past few days. “Spanking, edging, overstimulation, types of shibari, I guess…”

Y/N’s thighs squeeze involuntarily.

“...I just don’t know what works best.” he finishes his sentence, halting the tapping of his fingertips over the keyboard. “What do you think?”

She forces a swallow to coat her dry throat. “It depends.” she pushes out.

“Well, what works for you?”

She thinks for a moment. It’s been a minute since she’s been in a proper dominant/submissive dynamic — the last few times she’s had sex have all been one night stands and quick flings, all of which don’t allow enough time to learn about hard limits, punishments, and safe words. Her brain has to float back to a year ago, when she was sleeping with Reese, a soft dom who tried his best to tame her bratty nature but came back empty every time. He was good — the sex was good, but she wanted — no, needed — more.

“I don’t think I’ve ever really had a dominant… achieve that, I guess,” she mumbles thoughtfully. “I mean, I know what I like, as far as punishments go. But it’s not really about what the submissive likes, is it?”

“No,” Harry agrees. He hums as he opens up a second tab and she watches as he types the words “punishments for submissives” into the search engine. She sniffles and attempts to disregard the way her core instantly clenches.

He’s silent as he reads through a few lists, occasionally jotting down some notes into his Google doc. Y/N swallows noisily when he glances back up at her, this time prepared with an apparent list of proposed consequences.

“Okay, can you just tell me which ones you think most submissives would be fine with?”

She nods.

“Withgoing underwear in public?”

“Mhm.”

“Pussy spanking?”

“Yeah.”

“Nipple wax play?”

“Depends on the sub’s pain tolerance, but um… yeah.”

“Paddling?”

“I actually haven’t done that one before.”

Harry’s eyebrows raise.

“No?”

She shakes her head. “None of my doms have ever had one.”

“Doesn’t sound like they were proper doms, then.”

“They’ve all been on the softer side,” Y/N explains shyly. “But… yeah. I guess it’s always something I’ve wanted to try.”

“Is it?”

She can tell by the way his eyes have darkened, that there’s something wicked stirring in that brain of his. She knows she can put a stop to this now if she wants — he’s her best friend and he wouldn’t care if she ended the conversation here and now.

But she doesn’t.

Not for a second.

So instead she nods. And she’s completely unsurprised by the next sentence that falls from his lips.

“Do you want to try it now?”

By now, Y/N’s brain is all fuzzy and melty, so she doesn’t even think before she’s nodding her head eagerly. Harry chuckles and closes his laptop, shuffling onto his knees to lean forward and pluck at her bottom lip. A smirk curves at his mouth as she leans into his touch.

“Getting quite desperate on me, aren’t you?” he murmurs, cradling her cheek into his palm. “Get naked for me then and I’ll go get the paddle. No touching while I’m gone.”

Her stomach flips at the domineering tone in his voice. All too quickly, they’ve fallen into their most intimate roles, and Harry’s carrying himself to his bedroom as Y/N continues sitting there, all gooey-eyed and foggy. And maybe he should have expected it when he returns back to the living room a few moments later to see her sprawled out across the length of the couch, her bralette and underwear still on with her fingers tucked beneath the waistband of the fabric.

“Kitten,” Harry all but growls, making Y/N shiver at the pet name, “Are you already disobeying me?”

She hums as she watches him through half-lidded eyes, soft fingertips petting at her pearled clit. His eyes glimpse down at the tented material and he instantly sets the dark red paddle down on the carpeted floor, kneeling between her legs.

“What’s your color?” he breathes, locking a hand around her ankle. Her pussy quivers just from the simple grasp.

“Green,” she answers, “I’ll tell you if anything changes. Safe word is licorice.”

Harry nods, allowing his large hands to float up her legs. They reach the gusset of her sodden underwear and he clicks his tongue against the roof of his mouth, snapping the fabric against her swollen pussy.

“Take your hand out of your panties now and I won’t smack your pussy until she’s raw.”

Y/N doesn’t move. In fact, he thinks her circling fingers only quicken.

“I’ll give you one last warning,” he grits out, squeezing the flesh of her thighs, “I’m not a nice dominant. You won’t be able to walk if you keep going against me.”

But of course, her hand stays glued to the bundle of nerves. Instead, she breathes out a sultry response: “Think I could cum like this, having you watch me.”

In a moment, her cotton underwear is being ripped from her body and thrown aside. He’s swift in his movements as he collects her wrists in his palm, squeezing them harshly and throwing them up, high above her body. She gasps, noisy and wet.

“I don’t fuck around with brats like you for a reason.”

The first spank he issues to her puffy pussy is quick and fleeting, hardly offering a lick of pain. He’s eager to find where her pain threshold lies; if she’s all talk or if she can take the full force of his large palm. By the time he lands the sixth one, her skin now reddening beneath his smacks, he thinks he’s found it and he admits, he’s relatively impressed.

“Aw, did that one hurt?” Harry mocks, watching as her face twists in an expression of discomfort. “That’s because punishments are meant to be mean. You’re not supposed to enjoy them, little brat. You’ve had it too easy, hm?”

“H-haven’t,” she stutters out, wincing as he delivers a seventh, “I’m good, sir, I swear—”

“Oh, bull-fuckin’-shit,” he retorts. “You’re a silly little brat is what you are.”

“‘m not—”

Smack—

“You are.”

She whines until he reaches the tenth one. She’s a wiggly mess of sniffles and whimpers and he shushes her, brushing a thumb over her clit. She gasps lowly and he laughs.

“On your belly.”

This time, Y/N doesn’t defy him and Harry is admittedly surprised. She buries her face in the throw pillow and he rolls his eyes at the theatrics. Before picking the paddle up off the floor, his blunt fingertips scratch at her scalp, gentle and kind as they trail down to the nape of her neck.

“What’s your color, kitten?” he asks softly, rubbing a docile palm over her bare ass.

“Green, sir.”

“Do you still want to try the paddle?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Okay,” he murmurs, “We’ll start with five and then see where you’re at. You know what to say if you want me to stop, right?”

“Red or licorice, sir.”

“Good girl.”

Since it’s her first time, he decides to ease her into it. He uses only a smidgen of his strength to smack the paddle against the thick of her cheek, watching as the wood ricochets. Her skin jiggles in response and he swallows, noting the way her nails already dig into the couch.

The second and third are just as light but he adds a bit more pressure to the fourth and fifth. When he’s finished, he rubs over the flush skin, slow and intentional.

“How was that?” he asks.

“Good,” she replies, her voice slightly muffled from the pillow, “I can take more.”

A hand quickly finds its way to the back of her neck and her eyes instantly widen. He shifts her head, smushing her cheek into the soft fabric so her voice is no longer dulled.

“Need to hear you loud and clear,” Harry says. “And now you’ll count for me.”

When the oak paddle makes contact with her ass for the sixth time, she grits her teeth but still calls out the number. She follows suit for the next five and, while it’s painful and harsh in the most uncomfortable of ways, she’d be lying if she said her skin didn’t feel like it was on fire. She’s burning for him, feeling her arousal leak down between the apex of her thighs with every last spank.

“Good job, kitten,” Harry announces, dropping the paddle at the end of the set. “You did good, hm? Did the bratty girl learn her lesson?”

Y/N’s bottom lip juts out in a pout when his soft palms begin to soothe her aching bum. He instantly takes notice, wrinkling his eyebrows in confusion.

“Can’t give you anymore tonight, kitten. It was only your first time.”

Instead of replying, she simply shakes her head.

“Use your words. I’m not a mindreader, brat.”

Swallowing, she lifts her head up slightly, only enough to give her a peek of Harry’s concerned expression.

“W-wanna cum,” she mumbles, blinking at him, “Will you make me cum, sir?”

And instead of immediately getting what she wants, Harry does the unthinkable.

He rolls his eyes.

“You act like a slutty brat all night, begging to get paddled, and now you want me to make you cum?”

She nods, ashamed and embarrassed.

“What the fuck makes you think you deserve that?”

“I-I took my spankings and paddlings without complaining. And I didn’t disobey you a-after that.”

“But you did defy me to begin with, didn’t you?” he pushes, weaving his hand into the hair at the back of her head. His fist tightens and he lifts her head so her neck cranes back. “Isn’t that right?”

“Yes, sir.”

“And now you want to cum.”

“Yes, sir.”

“But not only do you want to cum— you want me to make you cum.”

“Yes, sir.”

“Fine then,” he decides, sitting down and leaning back against the couch cushions. “Come here. Straddle me.”

She forces herself onto her knees and ignores the way her ass and pussy both sting from her punishments. Right now, all she can focus on is her buzzing clit and its need for attention.

She does as she’s told and splits her thighs to fit his own legs between them. Almost instantly, he cups a hand beneath her mouth and glares at her expectantly.

“Spit, brat. Are you dumb?”

She shakes her head, allowing saliva to pool behind her lips before spitting it into his palm. With his eyes staring into hers, he lowers his spit-slick hand down to her mound and pushes a finger inside of her. Immediately, she clenches around it, her eyes threatening to flutter shut.

“Keep them open,” he instructs, “Jesus, your cunt is already milking me.”

She swallows and forces herself to maintain eye contact with the man sitting before her. He’s merciless in his ministrations, especially when he nestles a second, then a third finger and curls them up to her most sensitive spot. Her hands form tight fists as she grinds against his hand, moaning loudly when his thumb reaches her clit.

“What a desperate little pussy,” he murmurs, speeding up the tight circles over the swollen bundle of nerves, “You like getting stretched out, don’t you? Say it.”

“I-I love when you stretch me out, sir.”

“Of course you do,” he smirks viciously, “Is your cunt gonna cum like this?”

“Y-yes, sir—”

“Ask for permission first, kitty.”

“Please sir, can I cum? P-please?”

She’s whimpery and mewling as she bounces helplessly on his fingers, the ribbon in her lower stomach threatening to unravel at any given moment. He hums, stilling the digits inside of her.

“Hold it.”

“Sir—”

“Hold it, brat.”

Her pussy clenches around him but she does. She restrains herself until he finally allows the ribbon to come undone, a slew of whines and curses sounding from her plush lips as she does.

It feels like it goes on forever but when the pleasure finally ceases, she collapses into his chest. Harry gently pulls his fingers from her center and wraps an arm around her waist, giving it a gentle, loving squeeze.

He lets her stay like that for a bit and, maybe selfishly, he enjoys having her limp, exhausted body so close to his.

“Gotta clean you up and rub some salve on your bum,” he finally manages out, ducking down to whisper the words in her ear.

Tiredly, she nuzzles her head against his shoulder. “Five more minutes?”

He swallows.

He doesn’t think she’s in her subspace, but he knows she’s sleepy and fuzzy from the mix of pain and pleasure he just instilled on her body.

And so for that, he’ll give her five more minutes.

Six, if she’s lucky.

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kenntolog · 1 day

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im im the mood of angst, what about yorozu (the bitchass from loser gf reader cool bf sukuna series) comes up to reader and decided that reader isn’t good enuf for sukuna and bully her. angst and fluff please :3

𝝑𝝔 an: i hope u likeee thissss :>> sorry for it being almost a week late heh. read more here!!

“i don’t know what he finds in you.”

you hear as soon as you come out of the toilet cabin, stilling as if slapped in the face with the revelation. yorozu gave you a once over before going to the sink to lean against with arms crossed over her chest. it’s probably evident from your constrained movements and the blood drained from your face, but you’re quite nervous now that you’re alone with her.

you ignore her words and repeat her steps, going to the sink to wash your hands. you try not to look at her, yet can’t stop yourself from eyeing her warily.

“you’re a nobody, y’know? not a match for him.”

you squeeze some soap into your hands, roughly scrubbing them together, while she takes a step closer to you. as much as you try not to let her words get into your head — it’s hard to face the fact that she somehow knows how your insecurities get to you and she is using them against you right now.

you continue focusing on your breathing and shake the excess water from your hands, looking around for paper towels. your silence seem to tick her off, you can tell, and a small barely evolved petty side of you wants to say some things back to her but you just can’t.

yorozu observes you silently and steps closer, but you’re already on your way to leave, shoving her shoulder unintentionally as you almost sprint out of the bathroom.

she is quick though, running ahead of you to stop you. her exquisitely decorated eyes look down on you, her indifference and satisfaction changing to anger and annoyance. long sharp nails dig into your upper arm, making hiss and stop in your place. with her free hand, she twirls a strand of your hair around her finger.

“you think you’re better than me, don’t you?” she smiles cruelly, her eyes wide, passionately burning with disgust. you feel your defence getting weaker, tears welling in your eyes as you try to get away from her once more. she’s relentless. “he’s gonna fucking leave you, doesn’t matter for me or for anyone—”

“who the fuck do you think you are?”

sukuna.

his figure appears behind her; face distorted in anger as he furiously paces over to you both, suguru running after him hurriedly.

blood drains from yorozu’s face as she lets you go abruptly and makes a run for it, but sukuna is quick to appear in front of her.

“i say don’t come up to me and you go to my girlfriend? are you that fuckin’ dumb?”

you don’t think you’ve ever seen sukuna this furious. and yorozu this scared. it’s a good thing that suguru is also here, clearly aware that some bad things might happen if sukuna isn’t held back properly. he almost lunges at her, but the long-haired male makes it in time to jump in front of him with a worried yet stern expression.

“i’ll deal with her, go talk with your girl.”

“no—”

“sukuna.”

one look at you over suguru’s shoulder makes him let go of his anger. giving yorozu one last murderous glare, sukuna breathes out and pushes the long-haired male to the side to stride over to you instead. you look so pitifully small and meek that sukuna wants to turn around and go wipe the floor with yorozu’s face.

“baby?” he approaches you carefully, putting his palm on top of your head to stroke it gently and make you look at him.

surprisingly, you are not crying, at least, not as much as he thought he’d see you because he is sure yorozu was running her mouth with no fear or anything. you sniffle continuously, roughly rubbing your eyes with the heels of your palms.

sukuna leans down, his worried gaze scanning over your covered face as he patiently waits for you to put yourself together like the smart girl you are, “whatever the fuck she said, you don’t listen to her, alright?”

you finally put your hands down and let out a heavy sigh, staring up at him with bloodshot eyes and a small smile. arms wrapping around his middle, you pull him in for a tight hug and bury your face in his chest. slightly confused and a little wide-eyed, he stares down at you, hugging you back.

“i don’t care what she says, ‘kuna.”

ah, that’s what it is, he finally realises as his face breaks into a soft smile.

“good girl.”

#— miya writes!#ngl i love using geto as a moral compass he is so nice hehehhe #also we love angry sukuna #sukuna jujutsu kaisen #sukuna ryomen x reader #sukuna x you #jjk sukuna #ryomen sukuna x reader #sukuna ryomen #cool bf sukuna x loser gf reader #sukuna x reader #ryomen sukuna #sukuna #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jjk x reader #jjk x you #ryomen sukuna x you

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ynsbarbbb · 19 hours

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love me harder | m. verstappen

hypothesis - max is on the brink of losing you. however, after a fatal accident…

pairing - max verstappen x fem!driver!reader

[fic is inspired by “love me harder” by ariana grande ft. the weeknd

“baby, in the moment, you’ll know this is, something bigger than us and beyond bliss”

“could you just look at me?” you yelled as max just kept walking a few steps ahead of you.

“can’t. race is about to start.”

stepping into a quicker pace you place yourself in front of max and the garage door, “when was the last time you told me you loved me?”

your eyes searched his face, desperately trying to find a glimpse of the max that you knew, the max you fell in love with, the max you married. the hand you placed on his chest, you could feel the steady rhythmic thump of his heart.

“you really want to do this now?”

“yes! i never see you anymore!”

max scoffed, eyes rolling as he looked back down at his phone, “sorry that i’m busy.”

your hand fell back to your side, “i’m busy too max, yet i still try.”

he nodded his head, eyes not lifting from the rectangular square. you sighed, your hands landing on your hips. is this what you’ve become now?

“is our marriage still worth fighting for, max?”

he looked up. eyes piercing through yours. you cannot believe the words just left your mouth, but it felt relieving to finally utter the words that has been haunting you for weeks.

“i’m not doing this with you right now, y/n,” max steps around you, “good luck with your race.”

it was a millisecond.

you missed the turn by a millisecond and hamilton came crashing into you, sending your right wing and two tires flying. the car skidding across the track and landed upside down.

the force of the impact shoved your head against the steering wheel, hard, bouncing back against the seat.

damage had been done. to you and your car.

to lewis’ as well.

unbeknownst to max, who was in the lead, adrenaline coursing though his veins at the thought of his fourth podium for the season.

he was thriving, the car succumbing to his every command. the engine roaring sending shivers throughout his whole body.

the grin on his face turned devilish. he’s so close.

“max,” christians voice in his ears broke his train of thought, but his eyes never once lost sight of the track in front of him.

“the car’s doing great, no need to worry. podium is secure,” max declared excitingly. he took the turn, groaning at the strain it took on his body.

“though, sainz is on my tail the whole fucking time.”

christian sighed, not at all what max had expected, but he couldn’t be bothered by his team principal’s pms at the moment.

“max, there was a crash.”

another turn, another groan.

sainz could be spotted in max’ peripheral vision. he pushed the car harder, engine roaring, sending max flying away from carlos.

“who crashed?” he asked as he fiddled with the buttons on the wheel, checking if everything is still steady. he has at least seven more laps to go.

“y/n.”

dead silent.

heavy thick as your name registered in his mind. the grin that has been on his face had been wiped down. his lips sticking to his teeth.

“max?” christian asked, waiting a few moments. there was no response from the dutch.

he felt as if his body went numb, limb for limb. his arms felt wonky - not like the grip he had on the wheel mere moments ago. his breathing became shallow, his lungs struggling to capture enough oxygen, his brain malfunctioning.

next thing he knew he was crashing into sandbags.

the impact knocking sense back into him. sand dust flying everywhere.

“max!” christian exclaimed, “are you injured?”

“how’s she? is she alive?” max frantically asked. you didn’t have a choice - you had to be alright. you couldn’t be hurt, max would loose his head if you where. who crashed into you? how hard was the impact?

max got out of the car, “christian, fucking answer me!”

the line was silent for a couple of moments, “she’s stable. unconscious, but stable. no further news yet. she has been rushed to the ER.”

cars blasted past him, deafening noise drumming his ears.

“i need to get to her.”

“max, the race -“

“fuck the race, that’s my fucking wife!”

the doors of the ER bursted open, a very sweaty, and breathless max stood there, his eyes frantically looking around for anyone who could assist him.

he still had his suit on, christian hot on his trail.

“y/n, i need to know where y/n verstappen is,” he asked, accent thick as he slapped his hands on the receptionist desk.

she looked up at him, “any relation?”

max scoffed, “my wife.”

her fingers made quick work on the keyboard, “your wife is in surgery.”

max’ shoulders slumped and christian took hold of it, shooting a quick thanks to the nurse and led him in another direction. he swiped his hands though his hair, pulling at it, feeling his frustration grow and bubble at the bottom of his throat.

he could scream.

max paced the hallway, up and down. maybe minutes - maybe hours. he didn’t know. all he did know was that he’s staying.

why didn’t he tell you he loved you. with every fibre of his being he loved you. he craved you, constantly. the thought of you was all that he needed to survive - but knowing that you were his wife, made him whole.

you were the person who stood by him whilst he was working through his troubles with his father. on the nights when fear surrounded him, the comforting hand of you, his wife, brought him peace. on the days when he was on his happiest, it was on the days he spent with you.

you made him. you showed him to be max verstappen.

his wife.

news spread around the paddock, like a wild fire. sky sport tv airing out to fans and viewers to keep you in their prayers and thoughts.

some of your and max’ closest friends took off straight away to the hospital, supporting max even though he didn’t even acknowledge them.

they were still there.

an apology from lewis was sent out world wide, and he even made an appearance to max, but the dutch only glared at him, taking hold of his collar, making his friends jump and take hold of max.

“if she doesn’t make it out of here, you’ll regret ever setting foot on a paddock again. i’ll kill you.”

his voice was icy as he spat the words at lewis, baring his teeth. daniel stepped in between the two and pushed max back by his chest.

max’ eyes never left lewis’ retreating from.

“verstappen, y/n.”

max was in front of the doctor in a second, his eyes pleading his for good news. the doctor smiled at him and gave him what he was searching for.

“she’s asleep, but she’s an extreme fighter. you’ve got no worries, mr verstappen.”

he swore he could cry.

the doctor told him the room you were in and max wasted no time rushing towards it.

he searched the numbers above the doors for room one-o-one. his number. a bit of pride bursting in his chest, fate really had put you two together.

max stepped into the room and his heart broke.

machines connected to your heart, the beeping sound being the only indication that you are in fact alive. various cuts and bruises formed along your face. a neck brace adorned. oxygen mask on your beautiful face.

max stifled a sob as he crashed into a seat near your bed, scooting closer and taking hold of your hand. his thumb drawing patterns on your knuckles.

even in your unconscious mind your body still knew that it was your max, the heart monitor speeding up slightly.

it caused him to chuckle, “mijn schatje, mijn alles, i am so sorry. this should’ve never happened to you.”

he squeezed your palm, pressing a tender kiss to the flesh, “fight, stay strong for me, yeah? so that i can love you right this time.”

a gentle knock at the door roused max from his sleep. his hand was still tucked in yours.

max turned towards the door, lando stood there.

a soft smile on his face with a gym bag in his hand, “mate, i brought you some clothes - the suit can not be comfortable.”

he chuckled and motioned for his muppet friend to come in. lando placed the bag by the door and walked closer to stand next to max. he placed a firm hand on his shoulder.

“how’s the missus?”

max looked at you, a lump the size of a bull frog lodged itself in his throat, “she’s good, doc said she’s a real fighter.”

“she is a verstappen, ey?” lando nudged max’ shoulder who just chuckled in response. he felt guilty, ashamed, contrast to who he was. he shouldn’t have had to treat his wife like shit. you just wanted to know he loves you.

“look, mate, don’t beat yourself up about what happend, see this as a new beginning.”

max nodded, “she just wanted me to say that i love her. shit, i should’ve just said it to her. the crash-“

“is not your fault, you couldn’t have possibly predicted an accident to happen.”

he shook his head and looked at the bag by the door, “i’m going to change, would you mind maybe staying here. i don’t want to leave her alone.”

“yeah, of course mate.”

two weeks later

“don’t strain yourself so much, schat,” max’ voice was gentle as he looked at your from his seat on the couch. within mere moments he stood in front of you, large palms pressed to your hips to help you walk the last few remaining steps.

this last couple of weeks changed. your marriage changed. max changed.

he was waiting on you hand and foot, even though you have told him multiple times that certain things you can do on your own, he still insisted.

the one noticeable change for yourself and everyone surrounding you was the fact that max openly, whenever he got the chance told you he loved you.

whether it be when you’re making dinner, doing dishes, walking beside him on the paddock - he’d say he loves you with a kiss pressed to your temple. it was and still is absolute bliss.

your recovery went by fast, splendid as your doctor had put it. with time and patience, he said, you’d be back on the track in no time.

when your socked feet took the last step, max couldn’t help the face splitting grin that adorned his face.

“look at you go, speedy,” he smiled as he took hold of your head and pressed a tender kiss to your forehead. speedy. the nickname max had dubbed you the moment you overtook him when you first met.

speedy. the nickname max had dubbed you the moment you stole his heart.

speedy. the nickname max had used in his vows the moment you took his last name.

max made sure that you didn’t strain yourself too much in the recovery process, he treated you like you were his fine china, bubble wrapping your heart and by God, swearing that he’d never let his actions and words ever hurt you again.

he poured so much love into you. you practically glowed in comparison to when the argument had occurred.

his love.

his wife.

max made sure you knew how much he adored you, loved you, craved you.

“ik hou van je, mijn schat.”

and you knew he did.

fin.

#charles leclerc x reader #carlos sainz x reader #lewis hamilton x reader #max verstappen x reader #max verstappen #world championships 2024 #formula 1 #formula one #f1 fanfic #f1 imagine #f1 one shot #f1 x reader #f1 2024 #x reader #daniel ricciardo imagine #daniel ricciardo

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poetsblvd · 1 day

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carlos sainz 𝒙 reader !

blurb . requested . fluff and comfort

⋆⭒˚.⋆

“Please Carlos, not Juana!”

You grumble exhausted, two whole hours of bickering about baby names and you’ve gotten no where.

Not even a single clue as to where you could meet at a middle point, with your husband seemingly dead set on giving your unborn daughter a name you’re sure no one’s heard of in years and you ready to take it through a slightly more modern route, you’re seemingly stuck in the middle of nowhere.

So far you’ve heard a variety of names you’re sure won’t suit your princess, or even be to her taste, if she’s anything like you that is.

Alondra, Benita, Biatriz, Martina, Alejandra and nothing!

Nothing feels right and you’re sure you’re at your wits end with discussing baby names.

A whine tumbles out of you, the fear of possibly choosing a bad name for your unborn daughter that could lead to her resenting you forever and ever practically chokes you, causing you push your head into a pillow, shoving the plate full of your current pregnancy obsession of coconut ferrero rochers into Carlos’ chest.

“Mamita no! Estaba bromeando, lo juro!” ( i was joking, i swear! ) Your husband muffles a laugh, placing the plate of treats onto the bedside table next to him, he buries his head near yours.

“She’ll have a beautiful name like her mother, prometo.” ( i promise )

He pushes your hair back from your forehead, the cool of his gold wedding ring pressing itself into you, letting you nuzzle your face into his hand.

You stare at him softly, one hand joining his on the swell of your growing belly. “You promise we won’t name her that? Or…or Benita?”

A deep laugh bursts through him, chest shaking in mirth he pulls you closer to him covering your face in kisses filled with so much love you’re sure you’ll die if ever deprived of them.

“No amorcito, no Benita or Juana.”

You hum frowning slightly, “You’re not upset are you? That I don’t like the names very much, I just want to like them together. And I just don’t see her having such a name to be very honest, I’m sorry if I’m pressuring you.”

You say it so softly it makes his heart clench, he’s aware of the fact that you’re more sensitive than usual with your pregnancy hormones especially with you being in your second trimester, and it upsets him that you’re worried and genuinely fearful about his feelings as though he’s the one growing a whole baby.

“I promise I was joking Amor, swear it. I’m not upset at you at all, never ever ever! And we will like and choose a name together okay? You aren’t pressuring me at all.” He stares at you warmly as though hoping to convey his deep love and reassurance for you, grinning brightly when you nod and relax.

“Okay? Good! Now would you like a glass of water? It’s been a while now and se supone que debes estar bien hidratada, for both you and the princess, hmm? ” ( you’re supposed to be well hydrated. )

Stretching his arm slightly to the table he picks up the crystal glass filled with iced water and a thinly cut slice of lemon to help pit your ever growing nausea.

“Beberse todo.” He mumbles bringing the glass to your lips and tipping it upwards to let you drink, parting it from your mouth only when you hum. ( drink up )

He presses his lips to yours in a noisy peck. “Good job amorcito.”

“Now, about baby names huh?” Smiling at your enthusiastic face, he places the half full glass back down and hums as though deep in thought, tapping his fingers lightly in your belly.

“I’ve always liked Amara, or! Even Estrella? But more so Amara, because you’re mi amor and she’d be mi Amara!”

A breathy laugh bubbles out of you, the joy pillowing through as you filter the lovely name Amara.

You test it on your lips again, “Amara, Amara. Amara Sainz.” It sounds perfect.

It feels perfect, and from the look on the Spaniards face you know he thinks so too.

“Okay.” You giggle, pulling him in closer and letting him breathe you in, trying to entrap you fully in his senses.

“We found her name!”

“We did, amor we did.”

“Thank you, I love you, I love you.” You hold him closer.

“No. thank you, te amo mucho.” He kisses you hard and lovingly, pushing all of his gratitude and deep adoration for you in the kiss, before suddenly pulling away with a dramatic gasp.

“Shit! Lando’s gonna be disappointed.”

Your brows furrow confused and a little dazed from the kiss. “What why?”

“I may or may not have let him think I’d name mi niñita, Landina.”

“Carlos!”

“What? Charles thinks we’re naming her Charlene!”

“…And don’t even get me started on what Fernando thinks we should name her.”

“Dear god Carlos!”

“Fernanada. It’s Fernanda.

⋆⭒˚.⋆

love note , hii thank you sm for requesting !! i absolutely loved writing this it’s such a perfect idea !! i did change it a teeny tiny bit with reader being a bit more emotional and carlos being a bit of a reassuring boyfriend because we love <3 anyways i hope you liked this !! thank you once again for requesting 🫶🏼🫶🏼

#౨ৎ my works #⋆⭒˚.⋆ carlos sainz #carlos sainz x reader #carlos sainz x y/n #carlos sainz x you #carlos sainz blurbs #carlos sainz fluff #carlos sainz x fem!reader #carlos sainz blurb #carlos sainz fic #carlos sainz one shot #carlos sainz imagine #carlos sainz jr x reader #carlos sainz drabble #f1 x reader

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sweetimpurity · 2 days

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sleepy sweet spider-man ------- 18+ w.c. 588

Your boyfriend Miguel who spent all day out in the city, doing his duty as spiderman and keeping all of Nueva York safe. Coming home very late through the bedroom window. Cut up and tired. Finding you sitting pretty for him on the bed.

“Why are you still up, baby? It’s late” He asks with soft concern and his mask retracts from his face, revealing his bruised and beaten, handsome features. “I was worried about you… I just needed to make sure you got home okay…” You stand up to greet him, taking in the sight of all his fresh wounds.

"I'm okay..." He sighs, wrapping his arms around your waist, pressing his forehead to yours, absorbing the safety and stability you offer him. "M'tired..."

“How ‘bout you take a shower, lovey, and then we can go to bed...” You suggest kindly, caressing the backs of your knuckles across his beaten cheek. His head tilts into your hand, his big brown eyes gazing into yours.

Your sweet boyfriend, although he spends all his days fighting ruthlessly and getting beaten senseless, is the most gentle creature when it comes to you. His huge size takes up most of the shower space, blocking the water from hitting your face as he pumps into you slow and deep. The tension of his day melting away as he sweetly makes love to you against the bathroom tile.

Your hands on his lower back, running up to his shoulder blades as his hips roll up into you, easing the stretch with the warm shower water. Only the drops from his hair dripping onto your bare chest pressing up against his soft warm pecs. It's like only the two of you exist. In this little corner of your tiny apartment bathroom. His hands grabbing at the skin of your hips and your thighs, your legs wrapping around his waist as he pushes himself deeper, hitting all the sweet spots he’s memorized within you. “Missed you so much babygirl… wanted you all day…” He raises one hand, pressing it to the shower wall, keeping his other arm around your waist, kissing you sloppy and needy, moving at a quicker pace, determined to take you to that sweet place. It's like all the death and destruction of his life fades away and he finds life in your love. His mouth is hot on your neck and chest as he sucks and kisses your skin, his breathing heavy and his eyes lidded with love and lust for you. “Say you love me…” His voice is husky and deep in sleepy desperation. “Please baby…” He whispers. “Mm-love y-you…” You gasp and moan, your head rolling back against the shower wall, his dark eyes following every move you make. “Again baby… say it again please…” He begs, pumping into you, feeling the way your legs are trembling, your walls spasming. But he could burst from your voice alone. “I love you Miguel… more than anything, I love you…” You whimper, looking into his eyes, fingers digging into his biceps. “I love you…” He whispers, smiling like it’s the first time he’s ever heard it, with all the love for you in his eyes, even with those cuts and scrapes on his face. Endless praises pass his lips as you moan his name helplessly, your orgasm overcoming you with every thrust, making your back arch against the shower wall, your ankles pulling him in and keeping him there as he’s moaning low and coming deep inside. Safe to say you’ll both sleep soundly tonight.

#miguel ohara #miguel spiderman #spiderman 2099 #artists on tumblr #miguel fanart #miguel spiderverse #smut #artists on tiktok #miguel o'hara x reader #miguel ohara smut #astv miguel #miguel atsv #miguelohara #miguel o'hara #atsv miguel #miguel x reader #miguel fanfic

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kerosene-in-a-blender · 3 days

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Imogen and Dorian have a really interesting parallel going on where they're both playing with the themes of reluctant leadership (Imogen is struggling with being pushed into leadership of Bells Hells by Orym, and Robbie stated on the first 4 sided dive episode that he specifically built Dorian to play in that narrative space) and are often indecisive as a result, but the specifics of how exactly they're indecisive are slightly different. Dorian tends to resist making decisions at all until his hand is forced, while Imogen often makes big decisions that she rapidly walks back.

Imogen has, multiple times now, chosen to walk into the storm/connect with Predathos in her Ruidusborn nightmares only to become spooked by what she encounters and go to back to running from the storm/Predathos the next time she dreams, and as such, she's spent much of the narrative waffling about if or how much she should embrace the storm and the powers it gives her. Another example is her removing the Circlet of the Hidden Eye after Ashton's disastrous attempt to absorb the shard of Rau'shan. She stated she did this because she felt that if she'd been able to know what Ashton was planning she could have stopped them, as "one of [her] strengths is knowing". But this never came into play, she never used her abilities to try and know what the rest of the party was doing to try and prevent them from making bad choices, and she ended up putting back on and reattuning the circlet on Ruidus after the party narrowly avoided Otohan Thull to try and prevent her from tracking them. It should be noted that avoiding being tracked by the Vanguard is the reason she bought the circlet in the first place, and so it was a benefit she knowingly discarded by taking it off.

Dorian, in contrast, often puts off making decisions until he is absolutely forced to by the circumstances, but will stick to them once he's made them. Back in the very early days of the campaign, after Cyrus had revealed himself to be in Jrusar with a massive bounty on his head, Dorian spent a lot of time mentally struggling with whether to stay with the Hells or to try and help Cyrus somehow. Robbie noted during the party's encounter with Artana Voe in the back of the Soot and Swill that Dorian wanted to coerce information about Cyrus' situation out of her after the party had gotten the information they needed on Gurge, but he ultimately chose to follow his friends, albeit very worried about Cyrus. But when Cyrus was being arrested by the Green Seekers at the ball Dorian instinctively intervened, and forced them both to have to flee the continent, he showed no regret about this despite being saddened to part with the Hells. During the recent Crownkeeper's interlude, while Dorian's lack of effectiveness in the combat with Opal was driven by Robbie just not rolling well that whole fight, he flavoured it as Dorian being overwhelmed by the situation and not sure what the the right course of action was and so not really doing anything even as the rest of the group were all making hard choices. But after he was forced to leave by Opal's Mass Suggestion and Cyrus was killed, Dorian committed himself to going to find Orym and participate in whatever fight he'd gotten himself into, to the point that when he asks Keyleth if the Hells are ready to go to Aeor (as they're sorting through a truly staggering number of random body parts), he very specifically asks about THEM; he already knows he's committed to this.

Both of these characters second guess their own choices a lot, Dorian before and Imogen after making them, and I'm fascinated to see where this goes for the both of them since they're both in a place at this point where taking a leadership role is something they will have to do at some point. Imogen has been solidly presented as the leader of the group to the Volition, who are looking to be a major allied force for the Hells going forward, and with Cyrus dead, Dorian's first in line to the throne of the Silken Squall. Despite their doubts they both going to have make the kind of choices they have historically avoided or walked back.

#critical role #critical role spoilers #cr spoilers #imogen temult #dorian storm

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imaluckygirl · 1 day

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⭑ sharing is caring

( enha reaction ) - MAKNAE LINE

synopsis : where you prank your boyfriend by putting a bigger amount of food onto his plate and then show up with your plate half empty, saying: that’s all we had left.

HYUNG LINE VER.

❕ m𝐚𝐤n𝐚𝐞l𝐢n𝐞! x fe𝐦!r𝐞ad𝐞𝐫 ⋆ ge𝐧𝐫𝐞: fluff, i dont think you can consider angst but whatever ⋆ w𝐚𝐫n𝐢n𝐠𝐬 .ᐟ : mentions of food ( not specifying the food ), mentions of diet/not eating.

❔ 𝐧ot𝓮𝓼: since you guys liked sooo much the hyung line version, i wrote the maknae line version 🫶 @itjengirl there you go~~ 🙂‍↕️

english is not my first language, so it might contain a bunch of grammar errors.

taglists and requests are open .ᐟ

sunwoo would be smiling at you as always, thanking you in a cute way while you handed him his plate. “it looks delicious, jagi.” and he was just waiting for you to seat by his side on the table like an excited puppy. however, when you came back from the kitchen just to get your plate, he was kinda confused but was a little bit hesitant to ask you the reason why your plate had such a small amount of food, afraid that you would be triggered in some kind of way.

but before you could start eating, he asked: “why aren’t you eating more?” you looked at him with a innocent pout, shaking your head like you said ‘it’s nothing’. “aren’t you hungry?” sunwoo was pouting just much as you, worried about you. “does your stomach hurt or somethin-“ you interrupted him. “no, it’s just all we had.” “what?” he thought he misunderstood you. “that’s all we had left and,” you paused to take a sip of your water. “you work hard everyday, you deserve to eat more than i do.” you gently smiled, but his face dropped.

“don’t ever say that, thank you for worrying about me, but you deserve to eat too. here, i’ll share.” sunwoo gave you the biggest smile in the world, reassuring you that he was okay with sharing half of his plate with you. “sunwoo…” you cooed his name hesitantly. “mhm~?” your boyfriend glanced at you with a soft smile, kinda focused on his plate, but still hearing you. “i-i’m just playing with you, we have more food left; i’m sorry.” you pouted. “i feel so bad for doing this, you’re way too precious.” sunwoo felt like his heart was about to explode. “oh really?” he chuckled. “you really got me.” he shook his head defeated laughing. “don’t feel bad, jagi.” he said while looking at you. “just eat or else your food is gonna be cold.” he nodded his head at your plate smiling after placing a kiss on your cheek.

( i just love smiley sunwoo >ᴗ< )

“what are you making~?” jungwon walked into the kitchen while you were making his plate. “making our plates.” you smiled when he hugged you from behind. “mhm~” he placed a kiss on your shoulder and you tried to distract him from the pot that was full — but you were supposed to prank him. so with that, when you finished his plate you immediately closed the pot, handing him his plate while yours was sitting on the kitchen counter.

“there you go.” you gave him a soft smile and he thanked you with a small grin waiting for you to pick up your plate and walk with him to the dining table. however, the second his eyes laid on your plate you knew he was trying to find a reason why you’re plate was way smaller than his. the way he frowned, checking your plate and then gazing at his; comparing them, and the way your boyfriend’s mouth was open and then and closed like he wanted to say something, you knew you already got him.

“did you ate something earlier?” he frowned even harder this time. “no?” you cocked a brow like it was a dumb question. “then why did you gave me more food?” jungwon was comparing your plate with his. “oh,” you pretended to realise the reason behind his frown. “it’s nothing, it’s just all we had left in the pot.” “just that?” he raised his brows and his eyes went slightly wider.

jungwon, after comparing his plate with yours one last time, walked closer to the pot, slightly pushing you to the right, placing his plate on the kitchen counter. your boyfriend proceeded to take out the pot’s lid and check if there wasn’t anymore of the dish you made left in the pot — and for his surprise and relief, there was.

“surprise! i guess…” you playfully exclaimed, lowing your tone gradually, hearing his relieved chuckle. “you’re sooo funny, aren’t you?” jungwon asked you in a playful way as well. “sorry.” you were laughing at his playfulness. your boyfriend kissed your forehead affectionately, murmuring: “it’s okay, i just want to see you healthy. i love you.”

first of all, riki is a prankster, so whenever you tried to prank him, he always got your tricks. but this time was completely different. while the pranks you usually do are uncommon situations, this one was kind of unexpected since it envolves something that both of you do daily.

you cooked some food and called your boyfriend, who was upstairs playing on his pc with his friends. hearing his fast footsteps, you quickly placed his plate on the table, greeting him with an smile. “hi~” you spoke softly and he smiled. “hi.” he got close to you and hugged your waist, kissing your cheek.

riki sat on the table and stared down at his plate while he waited for you to get yours. when he saw how small your portion was, he looked up at you. “what is that?” he asked while you sat down by his side. “food?” you answered him like it was obvious. “what i see it’s just a piece of something with half of nothing.” “haha, funny.” you playfully rolled your eyes at him, hearing his laugh.

“no but, for real, are you okay? you usually make a full plate.” his focus was not even eating anymore, but you. “no, it’s oka-“ “no, it’s not, are you okay? why aren’t you eating?” “i’m eating just what was left.” you shrugged. “what do you mean?” he cocked his head at your vague explanation. “that’s all we had left in the pot.” “that’s all we had?!” his eyes widened, and he looked at his plate and when he was just about to move to share some with you, you stopped him. “no ‘ki, sto-“ “no, babe, i’m not even that hungry.” feeling guilty, you pouted and decided to reveal it was all a joke before he could share some of the food in his plate with you.

“it’s a prank, ‘ki, you can eat, we have enough food.” he frowned. “i think you’re lying to me this time, you can’t prank ‘prankster riki’.” he squinted his eyes at you, and you looked away feeling intimidated. “i’ll get some food and show you it is a prank.” — and in the end he let out a defeated sigh, humming an “wah…” in disbelief when he saw your plate finally full; and realising he was officially pranked by his girlfriend.

and that was the first time he was pranked and you even earned a kiss — because riki was actually impressed that you finally fooled him after a long time attempting and planning to prank him even though he insists that he wasn’t pranked because he was actually worried about your health.

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ih34rt-alphatxuri · 2 days

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Getting out of her shell

table of contents/pairing: oscar piastri x reader

summary: she had big shoes to fill at Mercedes and the added pressure of being a rookie, she knew that. On top of that, she was finding it hard to open up with the media, the rest of the grid, even her own teammate. All it took was a little push from a certain papaya driver to get her out of her shell...

warnings: mentions of a crash and alcohol (also I refuse to proof read, so sorry !!)

message from A☆: I swear I've been working on this on and off for months !! This ones a pretty long one, so grab a snack and a drink, plus I'm super proud of this fic, and I really hope you enjoy...

"She's like a ghost in the motorhome, I swear. If she doesn't need to be anywhere she's just alone in her driver's room with her headphones in." George said with a scoff, talking with Alex, Logan, and Oscar about his new teammate.

"She's even like that outside, I mean, look at her now..." Alex pointed over to Y/N, and he had a point. The new Mercedes driver was always alone in the paddock, but she never felt lonely. Well, at least not all the time. It was in Y/N's nature, she was a very reserved and quiet person, always had been. She was leaning against a wall, separated from the other drivers who were all talking with each other before the drivers parade began. She has her headphones in, as usual, and seemed to be staring at something no one else could see. Oscar looked at her for a little longer than he should've, he felt a little pang in his chest, but he pushed the feeling away.

"Mate...Oscar, snap out of it" Logan said while snapping at Oscar to retrieve him from his trance.

Seconds later, they were all called to board the vehicle of the parade, and Oscar still kept looking at her. He looked at her as if she was a riddle he wanted to solve, he wanted to know why she was so quiet. But that would never happen, right?

---

It was lap 10 of the Grand Prix, it'd barely started. Oscar was in P8, Y/N close behind him. They hadn't even reached turn 4 when their cars go wheel to wheel. Only Oscar comes out unscathed. Y/N's car veers off the track, just barely bumping the barriers. Minutes later, she's out of the car, physically fine but inside she wants to start sobbing.

"Is she ok? Is she out of the car yet?" Oscar asks over his team radio, the slightest hint of guilt in his voice.

"Don't worry Oscar, she's out and ok...more importantly, are you ok? Is you car fine?" His engineer chimes in over the radio. Oscar says everything is fine, but he still feels like something is off.

Back in the Mercedes paddock, Y/N is being checked up on. The crash wasn't horrible, but even that slight impact could've caused injury. She's antsy the whole time, wanting to go hide in her driver's room until the day was over. She put too much pressure on herself, she knew that, but she couldn't help it. She was the only rookie on the grid, and on top of that she had replaced the Lewis Hamilton. She'd be insane if she didn't beat herself up at least a little bit...but there was something different about this time. It was like she had the weight of the world on her shoulders and it was suffocating her with a crushing force. As soon as the medic and Toto gave her the ok, she ran off to her driver's room as fast as she could. Once there she closed the door frantically, slid down to the floor and just started sobbing. It's not like she had anyone to turn to, she wasn't even friends with her own teammate, this was one of those times when she did feel lonely in the paddock. And there wasn't much she could do about it.

----

The race was over by then, Oscar placed P6. Sure, he was happy to be in the points, but there was still something wrong. He saw Y/N as the post race interviews, he notice how her eyes looked a little redder, her lashes clumped together in that way they do when someone's been crying. She'd been crying. He could tell. Another wave of guilt washed over him, but he was quickly snapped out of his daydream by a journalist pointing a microphone at him.

All the drivers make their rounds with the interviews, media necessities, post race debriefs with their teams, and they've reached the point in the night when everyone is leaving the paddock. As Oscar's leaving, he sees Y/N leaving too, she looked tired. He had to apologize. So he caught up to her and tapped her on the shoulder.

"Y/N, hey, I just wanted to see if you're ok..." He said a little breathlessly.

"Oh no, no, I'm fine, really, it's fine" She says with a bit of a shake in her voice, but her face said otherwise. Her eyes looked tired and she looked deflated.

"I know it's not...come on, you can tell me." He said in a soft tone, he didn't have to apologize or even speak to her, but something in his heart told him he needed to.

"I just feel so much pressure...and it's not like the team or Toto is on my ass, it's all just in my head. And social media. But it's just so hard when I replaced the fucking Lewis Hamilton! Plus the fact that I'm the only rookie and a girl for that mater...it's just all too much." She said with a sigh. "And I mean, have you seen the shit people say about me on the internet? It's just...exhausting." She punctuated her sentence with a groan. "And the crash made all my emotions just kind of blow up in my face...I'm sorry." She took a deep breath, rubbing her face.

"There's no need to be sorry, Y/N. Just know you can always talk to me...ok? In fact, let me give you my number, just incase." He gestured for her to give him her phone, so she opened the messages app and gave it to him. He typed in his number and sent himself a text, then gave her phone back and promptly got out his so he could save her number.

"You know you don't have to be this nice to me, right?" She looked up at him with slightly furrowed brows.

"I know, but I want to...I'll see you around Y/N." He gave her a soft smile and headed towards the paddock's exit, she just watched him leave with a confused smile on her face. Now, maybe she wasn't so lonely after all.

----

Her and Oscar became fast friends, she reminded him of himself earlier into his rookie season. She was so shy and reserved, to some maybe she even seemed stoic, but deep down she was a really kind and funny person. And maybe that wasn't all Oscar liked about Y/N. He loved the way her eyes lit up when she talked about racing or anything she really loved, her little nervous tics and that face she'd make when she was really concentrated, he loved every little thing about her. Now when they hung around together in the paddock, he was almost like her guard dog (and also her social crutch, but that's besides the point !). He really helped her open up to the other drivers, even if she didn't become best friends with all of them. And most importantly, he was always there for her when everything just felt too much, he was always the first person she'd call. And he loved that feeling, of knowing it was him who could comfort her when nothing else could. It made him feel close to her. But something still made his cheeks flush and chest tingle when he was close to her. Maybe he didn't want to be just friends. But at the same time, he knew nothing could truly happen. At least that's what he thought.

It was much later in the season now, in fact it was already over and it was almost time for the FIA prize giving ceremony. Oscar hadn't won anything, but Y/N got rookie of the year. She was nervous for the ceremony, that's for sure, even if he had helped her get out of her shell. But she had a great idea as to how to calm her nerves, and that's when she called Oscar.

"Hey!" She said as Oscar picked up.

"Y/N, hey, what's up?"

"So you know how I'm really nervous about the whole prize ceremony thing?"

"Mhm"

"Can you come with me? Not as a date, I mean you would technically be my date...but like my plus one, as friends!" She rambled a bit nervously.

"I'd love to Y/N." He said with a chuckle.

"You don't have to-"

"I want to Y/N, you know I don't mind"

"Ok then...my dress is green, obviously. But you can just wear black if you want."

"Alright, perfect." He chuckled into the phone.

"Ok, I'll text you more info later, bye!"

"Bye..." He said as Y/N hung up, he couldn't wait.

----

It was the night of the Prize Giving Ceremony, and Y/N was a nervous wreck. She was so thankful to have Oscar with her, who held her hand the entire time. She looked stunning in the emerald green gown she had on, Oscar had a basic black suit that was tailored perfectly to his body. The ceremony itself went very smoothly, and as it got later the real fun began. Y/N and Oscar drank and danced the night away, but as she drank more, Y/N's thoughts just started to pour out with no filter. It wasn't until they were walking back to the hotel that she truly began to ramble.

"I don't really know why you agreed to this, I mean, I am such a loser." she giggled.

"You're not a loser, Y/N, far from it actually."

"Oscar, you're my only friend, and anyways I don't even know why. I feel like I cling to you too much, and I'm annoying, an-"

"Y/N you're no-" He gently held her biceps to make her face him as he spoke, but he was then cut off by her.

"I am though, I am, and everyone else knows it too. I shouldn't have replaced Lewis, I-" She continued to ramble, until Oscar cut her off.

"Look Y/N, I love you, ok?I just...you're so perfect and beautiful and talented, and it's just not fair that you're so insecure." He said with his hands still gripping her biceps. Her cheeks were flushed, partially from the alcohol, and she looked up at him wide-eyed.

"I...I love you too." She said with a light, drunken giggle. That's when he finally leaned in and kissed her, it was an almost frantic kiss. Like he'd die if he didn't kiss her. She happily reciprocated it, even if she went a little softer. Thank god for the Aussie that helped her get out of her shell.

#f1 #f1 x reader #oscar piastri #oscar piastri x reader #oscar piastri x you #oscar piastri x y/n #oscar piastri imagine

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sc0tters · 2 days

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Feelings and Fears | Luke Hughes

summary: sometimes it’s better to hide your feelings, until it’s not.

pairing: luke hughes x fem!reader teammate

warnings: drinking, swearing, most scenes take place in the future.

word count: 3.51k

authors note: okay so this ended a lot cuter than I thought it would! there was a lot of writers brain rot in this so it’s not my favourite thing but I really hope it ended up better to read in the end. Feels like I haven’t written for him in FOREVER but it’s only been two months so… also this was a different style I wanted to dabble in so lemme know if it worked or not cause I’m really on the fence.

Have you ever felt like someone is meant to be your person?

Where the world suddenly made sense when you looked at that person? And like your heart was only ever meant to beat for them from that moment on?

That was how Luke felt about you, his perfect dream girl that he needed to have captured in his focus. Yet the only thing that made the desire that much harder to obtain, was the sheer condition of you hating Luke.

Yet that wasn’t always the case, in fact, you were excited that he had come onto the team as you were no longer the rookie on the squad.

September, 2023

Luke grinned as he saw you approach him “Hughesy!” You laughed holding onto Dawson as you ended up at the bar wanting a new drink “hey guys.” Luke had been nursing the same drink the entire night.

You placed your glass on the table “you keep her safe?” Dawson asked Luke as he nodded “yeah I’ve got her.” You were clearly drunk and Luke was never going to turn down getting to spend time with you alone.

Dawson gave your side a squeeze as he left you “happy birthday.” You mumbled realizing that you didn’t say that to him yet “thanks teddy.” It was a random nickname that he had come up with after the video came out of you in a giant teddy suit when you scared the boys.

What you didn’t notice as you looked for the bartender to usher him to make you a new drink was how Luke was looking at you. Sure you had always been pretty but tonight was the first time he had seen you all dressed up “you know you didn’t have to come tonight.” Luke also knew all about how Friday nights were your time watching shitty reality tv shows to fill your time with and you loved it.

But you pursed your lips together as you looked back at him, only now aware of how close he was to you “it’s your birthday, wouldn’t miss it for the world.” You weren’t going to mention that part of the reason why you were there was because Jack was paying for the bar.

His eyes sparkled and before he knew it he dropped his head down to be level with yours as he pressed his lips against yours “wait.” It seemed like your entire body sobered up in that moment as you pushed your hand against his chest.

Luke felt his heart drop as you pulled away “I’m so sorry.” He went to apologize after seeing that his ounce of confidence was stupid and that his guts desire to stay away should have reigned supreme.

But you shook your head “don’t worry about it.” Yet you were so worried about it as you worried that your teammates had seen it “I’m gonna go.” You added, leaving him with red cheeks and silent as he watched you go.

May, 2024

That was now months ago and the two of you hadn’t spoken since. And now it seemed that the world was trying to serve him the ultimate fuck you as you did everything in your power to avoid him.

At most uttering phrases of “move,” or sometimes just having to sent him a glare that left him sliding out of your way before anything could have even been said. It seemed that your relationship was one where you two were barely teammates at that point, the chemistry on the ice had diminished further dwindling whatever was left between you both. The other players picked up on it but as Luke begged them to stay out of it as he still drowned in the embarrassment of your rejection.

But now as it was Jack’s turn to play the role of birthday boy and that meant that you were then forced to be the one place you avoided, Lukes turf. By only being in places with him before that you knew first meant that you had the places to hide, the exits, everything you needed to hold onto for some kind of comfort was now gone after you hadn’t been there into Jacks apartment in over a year. And you stupidly thought that the night would go down with ease.

Yet as some girl found herself obnoxiously on his arm when you arrived, his eyes found yours as he sent you a soft smile as you seemed stuck where you were. Why was it that months on from muttering more than a sentence to him as you swore you could only hate him after he tried to make a move on you, but you were now almost thrown off guard when he was with another woman. You thought you had him written off, that he was a sealed page.

But you could feel the glue ripping at the pages when you watched her whisper something into his ear that made him laugh as he wrapped his hand around her waist “you good?” Nico snapped his fingers in front of your face as he stood with a drink for you.

Your cheeks quickly reddened as you assumed you had been caught “just perfect cap.” You nodded as you pulled the bottle from his hand and quickly took a large sip from it.

In all the time he had known you, not once had he ever seen you flustered “so are you just getting hot stood watching Luke and Daisy?” His tease made her roll her eyes as she flipped him off.

The captain patted her shoulder “you might want to stop staring then.” He trailed off before he left you.

You hated how he was right but you couldn’t shake the weird feeling in your stomach. It had your feet glued to the ground and you felt sick watching the moment between the duo as Luke kissed her head, yet your eyes refused to go anywhere else.

December, 2025

The next year had you instead distancing yourself from Luke for that feeling. You knew it was stupid but after your return to the garden state, you swore you were going back to disliking him for what he had done. Life would have been so much more straight forward if that was the reason why you disliked him.

Yet the moment you two realized your lockers were next to each other, the pit came right back into your stomach. Luckily now you were no longer watching Daisy appear at every event which made you think that maybe you could get through the season quietly.

Yet all of that seemed to come to a halt when the universe decided that it wasn’t good enough for them. You and Luke ended up injured at the same time with his being his collarbone and yours being your ankle.

Your heart was broken after going from the prime of your career and being on par to almost double the last seasons points, to now wondering if you were even going to make it back in time before the end of the season “can I get another?” You called out to the bartender as the news felt like it was best to respond with drowning your feelings in booze.

That’s how you ended up on your fifth brandy and coke in the hour “you got a way to go home?” The other older boy flashed you a look of concern as you turned your phone over “yeah I got her Joey.” The voice sent a shiver down your spine as you looked up.

It was the first time you had seen Daisy in months, she was looking great with her shorter hair and darker hair color that enhanced her features “can I sit?” Her voice was softer as she flashed you a smile.

All you could do was nod as you wondered why she was talking to you “was sorry to hear about it.” She pointed to your cast as she sat down “yeah it was pretty shitty.” You sipped at your drink hoping that it would bring her silence.

But instead she tucked her hair behind her ear “I actually thought that it would finally make something happen between you and Luke.” The words came as your blood turned cold slowly setting your drink down as you tried to keep your cards close to your chest “Luke always tried to deny it but I know he’s in love with you.” She continued on unaware of how you raised your eyebrows.

Daisy was able to speak freely as nobody else was there on the Tuesday night now that her friends had gone home “at first it was something I thought I could ignore but then I saw how you looked at him at Jacks party and knew I might have been his but he wasn’t mine.” Her defeated voice made you grow sorry for her “nothing ever happened-” you tried to push potential cheating concerns away but she raised her hand to stop you.

Her eyes went to the door as someone came into the bar “maybe it’s time you let something then?” She offered as she squeezed your hand before she got up.

You stared at your drink wondering what she meant because she left before you had the chance to ask “you know you’re gonna regret this tomorrow teddy.” Luke sighed as he took his exes seat.

Life felt as if it was getting worse as his eyes burnt your skin “look I can get myself home.” You went to grab your keys but he was all that much quicker than you “you even hop in the drivers seat and Nico would have my head.” The youngest Hughes boy shook his head as he noticed the red Pom Pom that was on your keychain.

Silence gushed over you both as you stared at the table “please just let me drive you home so I know that you’re okay.” Luke’s voice oozed this sense of desperation as his thigh pressed against yours “lemme finish my drink.” One drink became two before it became three as you were delaying the inevitable.

Luke was grateful he had brought his own car as he had no clue where you had parked yours “just sit up f’me okay?” He asked as he helped you into the passenger seat “you’re pretty.” You mumbled as his curls dropped into his face when his hands brushed over your stomach with the seatbelt.

The words made him smile “you are pissed.” He softly laughed to himself as he shook his head trying his hardest to not let your words make him feel like a nervous teen boy “but not wrong.” You shot back as he shut your door quickly making his way to the drivers side.

You couldn’t help but stare at him, taking in the side profile that you spent so many nights thinking about even if you were meant to avoid it “got something on your mind teddy?” Luke didn’t take his eyes off of the road as the red light from the stop illuminated his face.

Your body leaned against the center console as you licked your lips “you are mean.” You confessed making him raise his eyebrows “how so?” Maybe it was wrong to entertain your drunk ideas, as you were more than likely to not remember them in the morning, yet with this being your first proper conversation with him in months he wasn’t going to let it slip through his fingers.

The gentle hum of the cars engine soothed your mind “it would be so much easier to avoid you if you weren’t so nice.” It was true, every time you snapped you always felt that one part of you feel guilty for letting the words hit the boy “could mean I wouldn’t like you either too.” The second part came out as barely a whisper but still it was almost enough for Luke to crash his car.

His eyes widened as he swore he must have misheard you, but when the hoot came from the car behind he knew this was no dream “let’s talk about it in the morning.” Luke shook his head as he used every fibre of his being to push his feelings for you down.

He got with Daisy to forget you and that never worked as the boy would constantly dream of it being you that he would wake up next to this isn’t my apartment.” You furrowed your brows as you turned your attention to see his apartment building “figured it would be a whole lot easier getting you to sleep in here.” He explained as the team was on a roadie and that meant that Jack wasn’t home.

Part of him was surprised to not hear your complaints or any type of argument so he turned to just see you fiddling with your bracelet, he hated seeing you be quiet but fearing that he would ruin the moment of rebuilding a friendship he kept his mouth shut. It was so much easier to do that even as he helped you up the stairs and eventually sat you on his bed “you okay with these for bed?” He asked as he handed you a devils training tee and most shockingly a pair of your black gym shorts you swore you lost.

Luke sensed your surprise as your fingers ran over the label that you had signed “realized that you left them here and then never found the time to give it back.” He explained as you had complained once after a party at the Hughes apartment when John spilt his drink onto your lap ruining your white jeans. After that you always had a pair of shorts that lived in Lukes closet “god I was a bitch.” You brought your hands to cup your face as you groaned letting the good memories between you come flooding back into your brain.

He was quick to crouch down and pull your hands away from your face “we will talk in the morning once you’ve gotten some sleep.” He held his pinkie up to you as he nodded “okay.” You mumbled locking your finger with his before you watched him turn to the door.

Your hand tugged through your hair “where are you going?” You tried to not sound too concerned but he smiled hearing right through it “to sleep on the couch.” Luke spoke in a duh tone, surprised when he watched you push yourself to your feet and almost fell forward with the momentum.

For the second time in the night you were left grateful for his reaction times as he held his hand out to catch you “either we are both on that couch or you are in your bed.” It seemed to be the most sober line you had said the entire night as he could see that you were deadly serious.

Luke felt like he was left at a cross roads when he sighed “you promise not to kick me in your sleep?” He asked as you smiled “only if you promise the same.” You nodded taking it as a victory.

Slumber consumed you quickly as your head hit the pillow and you were gone but Luke struggled to get sleep most of the night, scared he’d wake up and you’d be gone letting it all go back to how it once was. Eventually he did fall asleep and when he woke up you were indeed gone. The side of your bed was cold even as the scent of your perfume was still in the sheets “god you would think that your brother would own a less complicated coffee machine.” You scoffed to yourself walking back into the room with a coffee for you and a tea for him.

Luke’s messy hair made you smile as his eyes took in the sight of you, once to make sure it was actually you stood there, and a second time to notice that his shirt looked massive on you “morning sunshine.” You teased as you handed him the drink before you took your seat next to him as you handed him his mug.

The gesture seemed to screw with Lukes mind and he was so desperate to know what was going on in your mind before he misinterpreted anything “when you said you liked me.” He began as he stared at the murky liquid “did you meant it?” He trailed off when he looked to you for an answer.

It made your throat grow tight setting the mug on the table next to you “yeah.” You nodded as Luke couldn’t help but scoff ‘then why’d you pull away!” He may have not gotten over that incident in the bar as much as he thought he had.

You picked at your nails as you tired to find the right words to tell him how you were feeling “because I’m a woman in the NHL Luke.” You sighed letting your eyes drop to the cast on your foot “fans already think I slept with someone to get onto this team.” He had seen the hate that was sent your way more than once assuming that you had slept your way into the league, especially going as a first round pick in your respective class.

He chewed at the inside of his cheek “and you come from a family of three great NHL talents.” You turned to see him staring right at you “it would be a sprinkle on your career but could ruin mine.” You continued on seeing him remain silent.

Luke ran his fingers over his face “so I thought it was easier to act like I hated you because I could get over it.” You sucked at your teeth and you nodded “but then Daisy came into the picture and I realized I didn’t just think you were attractive but actually thought about you romantically too.” At this point you were silently begging for him to shut you up and take over the conversation so that you could go quiet “I am gonna go.” You announced almost dragging yourself out of the bed.

That seemed to do the trick when he placed his hand on top of yours stopping you where you were “I want you more than this career.” He blurted out making your cheeks go red as he shifted closer to you “Luke you have your whole career ahead of you.” You shook your head knowing that he was just saying what you wanted to hear.

But when he sat up straight his eyes looked darker than you had seen them before “and I would go retire right now if it meant I could have all of you.” Luke’s voice was flat as his thumb ran over your lip “if we do this the world can’t know.” You weren’t being rude but you knew it was what would be best for both of your careers.

He nodded softly “it’ll be our little secret.” His voice was soft as he let his lips graze over yours when he slowly opted to test the waters. As you didn’t pull away the Hughes boy smiled letting his hands grip at your waist bringing you back onto the bed.

February, 2030

Luckily for you both, you were able to keep your NHL careers as you were traded to the Islanders a few months after you started dating and Luke ended up at one of your playoff games as the devils had been eliminated in your jersey. Of course it was the one from your time with the red team but your number had stayed the same and it meant he got to proudly have your name etched onto his back “Teddy wait for me!” You groaned as you pulled your duffel bag from your car.

Your three year old was too excited to care though “I wanna see daddy!” She cheered as she clutched the Canucks teddy that she had gotten when she accompanied you on the west coast road trip as he was on a road trip of his own “I know but remember he might be sleeping.” Your words brought a scoff.

Luke had been waiting at the door to the elevators the moment he realized you were close “and miss the chance of seeing my favorite girls?” Luke’s tone was almost amused as he flashed you a grin “daddy!” Teddy ran to him when he crouched down opening his arms to pull his daughter into a hug after he hadn’t seen her in a week.

Her excited squeals brought a smile to your lips as Luke smothered her face with kisses “now don’t think I forgot about you too.” Luke saw that you were still in the same place that you had been in before “then I think you should come over here and show me that, Mr Hughes.” You teased making your daughter smile as she saw Lukes eyes slightly sharpen.

“Well you of all people should know how I handle a challenge Mrs Hughes.”

#luke hughes imagines #luke hughes x you #luke hughes x y/n #luke hughes oneshots #luke hughes x reader #lh43 #Amber writes fics #hockey imagines #hockey oneshots #nhl oneshots #nhl imagines #oneshots #imagines

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lowkeyren · 16 hours

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heartfelt embrace!

in which — aventurine gets jealous when another man offers you a drink and gets too comfy with you.

pairing — aventurine x gn!reader

˚୨୧⋆｡˚ ⋆ — wc: 1.1k, unestablished relationship (but u guys pretend to be a couple), it gets kinda sappy at the end but its implied that ur feelings are mutual!! anyway, likes n reblogs r appreciated <3

the bar is like a social haven where strangers meet and share their stories without the need of holding back or the worry of judgement —which is also the perfect place to collect information for the ipc.

a vibrant mixture of lights falls from the ceiling, smooth jazzy music fills the air, and aventurine's hand is wrapped tight around your waist. this is strictly professional you think, both of you are undercover as a loving couple where any and all intimacy is a facade to blend in with the people around. despite that, you can't help but feel a bit giddy and flustered whenever aventurine refers to you as "my love". though he has a knack for slipping those endearments into your conversations with such ease that it almost feels like second nature, you can still sense the warmth rising on your neck.

but duty called, both of you decided to split up at one point to be more efficient. the clinking of glasses, and the hum of activity at the bar counter draws you over to it. scanning the room, you spot your target and pretend to mull over the various cocktails in the menu in order to observe him more closely without raising suspicion. although what you didn’t expect is for him to notice you right away and approach you, offering you a drink with a lopsided smile. caught off guard, you hesitated for a moment, you weren’t actually planning to drink tonight, you were only pretending after all; but declining his offer might arouse suspicion, plus he is a crucial part to your plan, and any chance to gather intel directly from him was not to be squandered.

“ —and it’s my treat, a darling like you shouldn’t be alone, not to mention pay for your drinks. so c’mon let loose a bit won’t ya? your boyfriend doesn't have to know..” he leaned forward, invading your personal space, and you could smell the stench of alcohol from his breath. you stepped back in response, glancing furtively behind him in search of aventurine, just as you spot him, the man unexpectedly grabs your waist, drawing your attention back.

“so? what’d ya say darling..? the newest collection of soulglad mixed—”

before the man could finish his sentence, aventurine smoothly intervened, pushing the man’s hand off and wrapping his own around your waist and placing his chin on your shoulder. you could feel the hairs on your neck standing up from the close proximity of the both of you. “relax sweetheart, let me handle this.” he whispered in your ear while maintaining eye contact with the man.

aventurine stepped between you and the man, with a deceitful smile, aventurine addressed him, his tone laced with subtle hostility. and despite his best efforts to maintain his composure, you could sense the turmoil brewing within him. alas, after countless backs and forths, and a few witty remarks made by aventurine solely for the purpose of pissing the other party off. the man finally left the scene while rolling his eyes, muttering not-so-subtle curses under his breath.

you heaved a sigh of relief as he left the scene— but as you came back to your senses you realised you basically just lost your finest lead…

"thank you, but... he was our best lead," you murmured, looking down at the floor, the weight of your predicament settling heavily upon your shoulders. aventurine cupped your cheeks with a tender yet firm touch, his gloved fingers are cool against your skin. “i know. but sometimes you have to play the hand you're dealt, even if it means taking risks.”

as you met his gaze, a flicker of yearning danced in his eyes. in that moment, the air between you was filled with tension, sending a shiver down your spine.

“and hey, that scum was being way too close to you anyway.” his tone impenitent and laced with a tingle of jealousy. even outside missions, his playful smiles and occasional touches that were meant to be purely friendly began to blur the lines between platonic and romantic; his (over)protectiveness of you stirred a mixture of emotions within. it was in these fleeting moments, when his eyes met yours with a glint of mischief, that you couldn't help but wonder if there was more to your friendship that he let on.

“i shouldn’t have even let him touch you. i guess you’re just too hard to resist huh, should’ve known your beauty extends beyond my sight. that makes my job quite difficult, but don't worry love, i’ll just have to stick by your side from now on.” you can't deny the flutter of your heart whenever aventurine says stuff like that, does he actually mean it? or was he just messing with you again.. well in this case, acting.

“hah… don’t say things like that, you’re sounding too charming for your own good, it's like you’ve got a crush on me or something.”

“did i get your hopes up?” (what if i do?)

beneath the surface, beneath the laughter and the teasing, there lingered a sliver of hope, “no, of course not! not at all...” but you couldn't give in to that whisper of possibility, incase you were wrong and single-handedly ruin your friendship with aventurine.

he chuckled, shaking his head in mock disbelief. "oh, is that so? well, i'll have to try harder then. wouldn't want you falling for other guys now, would i?" as aventurine's laughter echoed in the air, a pang of longing tugged at your heartstrings, his words stirred something deep within you, igniting a spark of hope that refused to be extinguished.

with a forced smile, you unwillingly tore yourself away from the moment. "alright, that's enough," your voice betrays a hint of reluctance. "let's head back now, i'll see you tomorrow.” just as you turn your back around,

“wait,” aventurine held your hand between his, “let me take you home at least?” a faint smile tugged at the corners of his lips, faced with such a sight you couldn't do anything but accept his offer graciously.

on the way back, silence fills the air, it was no doubt that the both of you could feel the tension crackling as unspoken feelings were made obvious by the way he still holds your hand tightly, lacing his fingers with yours, even after leaving the bar; where you were free from your roles. you grasp his hand that held yours in response, a silent confession.

perhaps romantic feelings are not to be uttered when one is not ready, as love has a way of finding its way into the darkest corners of your hearts even when you least expect it. but nonetheless, maybe one day aventurine will open his heart to you, and you’ll find the courage to speak your truth. until then, you’ll find comfort in the warmth of his embrace.

˚୨୧⋆｡˚ ⋆

hi ren here! yes this is reposted from my old acc lol, i will probably delete that one soon after i move everything here xx other accs reposting my work are not me. that's all, have a good one! masterlist

#hsr x reader #aventurine x reader #honkai star rail #honkai star rail x reader #honkai starrail x reader #star rail x reader #hsr x you #hsr x gender neutral reader #hsr fanfic #hsr fluff #honkai star rail x you #aventurine hsr #aventurine #hsr imagines #aventurine x you #aventurine honkai star rail #aventurine fanfic

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zephyrchama · 11 hours

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(Mentions/descriptions of minor injuries, present and past.)

“There, all good.”

“Thanks, Satan.”

Your leg looked much better now that it had been disinfected and bandaged. Not that it was in bad shape to begin with.

Anyone would have thought a dire medical emergency occurred by the way everybody had leaped into action when you fell. Six of the brothers somehow managed to carry you together - one for each limb and another two on the sides to support your back - because they couldn’t pick just one person to help you back to the classroom.

It was incredibly embarrassing. You closed your eyes to avoid making eye contact with any of the other students, but you still heard the hallway whispers and Thirteen’s loud laughter.

Once back inside, Lucifer immediately evacuated his seat behind the podium at the front of the room. You were placed down like a precious glass ornament. Each brother played a different role in patching you up, but you would have been fine on your own.

“This cut kind of reminds me of one I got as a kid.” You twisted your leg around a few times to look it over. “It’s in the same spot.”

Mammon leaned against the back of the chair and grabbed your shoulders. “Are you tellin’ me you cut your leg before?”

“…yes?”

“First time I’ve heard that.” Beelzebub frowned.

Satan nodded thoughtfully, hand on chin, “you’ve never told us this before.”

“Yeah, ‘cuz I just remembered it.” It happened so long ago that you completely forgot.

Asmodeus buried his face in his hands. “How could you be so irresponsible?”

“I was a kid! Kids get scrapes all the time. I probably got it the same way, too.”

“You fell? Well… At least it didn’t scar.”

“Asmo, how d’ya know that?” Mammon asked.

“Because I know every inch of their skin very intimately.” Asmodeus smirked.

Mammon gripped your shoulders tighter. “Ok! Well! So do I!” he growled.

Leviathan came to sit on the floor next to you, looking worried. He fiddled with your pants leg to make sure the hem wouldn’t roll down over your bandage. “So there were other times you got hurt as a kid?”

“I mean, yeah? Bruised my arm pretty badly one time, right here.” You pointed to the spot.

“How come you never told us?” Belphegor asked. He was craning his head up to look at you while laying on the table, which Lucifer hadn’t noticed until that moment. The eldest gave him a push.

Belphegor muttered some choice words and slunk off to get a chair of his own, which he relocated closer to you. It screeched loudly as he dragged it along the floor. Beelzebub just stared and the others flinched, but Satan and Lucifer looked ready for violence until the youngest finally plopped down.

“We’re supposed to know everything about you,” he stated.

“Since when?”

“Since forever,” Leviathan was quick to clarify. “You have to tell us everything, and don’t spare any details.” His sentence ended there, but you swear you heard “the lore…” whispered almost imperceptibly.

“You better not be holdin’ back on us.” Mammon shifted a bit. He appeared to be getting tired of standing, but didn’t want to give up his prime real estate by your side.

“So I have to tell you everything? Like… when a butterfly poked me in the eye?”

A couple of them winced.

“Did it hurt?” Asmodeus asked.

“Did you tear it apart?” Belphegor asked.

“No, I think I was more shocked than anything? Maybe a little? And no!” You glanced down. “Levi, stop taking notes about me.”

Leviathan tutted and swiped out of the notes app on his D.D.D..

These demons and their theatrics. You couldn’t help but smile. “You’re all just overreacting, as usual.”

Satan shook his head. “No, I think you’re under-reacting. There are lots of dangers to humans in the Devildom. You could have gotten a nasty infection.”

Asmodeus gasped, “you could have lost your leg!”

”Or attracted predators,” Beelzebub added.

“On school grounds? Please. At worst I’d only attract Mephisto sniffing around for a scoop for his newspaper.”

Lucifer crossed his arms. You had faith he was going to say something sensible. “At least this isn’t as bad as that time you bruised your rear in the bath.”

There were seven scandalized gasps, including your own. “I told you that in confidence!”

Mammon was yelling in your ear, “how come I wasn’t the first to know about this? Hah?”

Asmodeus lept forward, “show me where!”

“Is it still there?” Satan inquired.

“Do you not trust us anymore?” Beelzebub looked deflated.

“That’s not it, Beel, I just- ack, Levi!” You shouted and shook your bandaged leg as the third-born clung to it desperately.

“It wasn’t my bathtub, right?” he practically sobbed. “Aahhh, I knew I needed to fill it with more pillows. Ahhhh.”

“Why would they be anywhere your tub?” Belphegor took hold of Levi’s collar and wretched him back. By the way he fell, it wouldn’t be odd for Leviathan to get a butt bruise, too.

“If it happened in your room, you would have been there,” you assured, knowing this would start another round of arguing.

The bell signaling next period mercifully rang. You’d never been happier for class to start again. All that was left was to get to your usual seat, which you stood up to do.

“Woah, whaddya think you’re doing?” Mammon put an arm in front of you.

“Going to my seat…?”

“You’re in it, sit back down.” Lucifer said.

You hesitated, giving them a puzzled look. For a moment you considered running past them. A simple cut wouldn’t hold you back, but there were no scenarios where you could outrun them without magic. You narrowed your eyes and sat down as the seven surrounded you again. You got a bad feeling.

“Just make it quick.”

Other students were already starting to filter into the room. You didn’t particularly want to be seen being relocated by these overly doting brothers. You grabbed the edge of the seat as four of them lifted it up, with the others griping about there being insufficient space for them to grab hold anywhere.

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golden1u5t · 1 day

Text

book club | s.r x fem!reader

ꨄ requested: anonymous

ꨄ genre: smut

ꨄ summary: you can’t stop finding yourself in spencer’s bed, even after you’ve broken up.

"shut up." you muttered when spencer opened the door with a knowing grin on his face. he stepped to the side and opened the door wider, you brushed passed him and headed straight to his room, spencer followed close behind you.

he leaned against the door frame and watched as you pulled your shirt over your head and slid your jeans down your legs. you were never one for greetings or small talk when you show up at his house because you both knew you were only there for one thing.

you always found yourself back at his apartment any chance you got. early in the morning or late at night, it didn't matter, if he was home you were there. the first time you did it, it was because you had found out your boyfriend was cheating on you first but after it happened you realized that spencer truly was the only person that could get you that high.

spencer stalked closer to you and placed his hands on your hips, he pulled you closer to his body and started to feather kisses over your neck and shoulder.

"what'd you tell him this time?" he mumbled against your skin. your hand found it's way into his hair as you tried to gather your thoughts in order to answer him but his teeth nipping and grazing at your skin just brought you back to a thoughtless mess. spencer slapped your ass to bring your mind back to his question.

"told hi- told him i was going to book club." you whimpered. spencer reached behind you and unclasped your bra, pulling the straps down your shoulders and letting it fall down to the floor.

"he really believed that?" spencer scoffed, he walked you back into the bed and gently laid you on your back. he climbed on top of you and started to pull your panties down your legs. "you hardly read."

you opted to stay quiet, choosing to ignore the amusement in his voice and focus on the feeling of his hands on your skin instead. spencer laid down beside you and pulled you onto his lap, you looked at him confused until he started to urge you further up his body.

you understood what he was getting at and moved up his body until you hovered over his face. you never liked this position as much, just because you always worried that you were suffocating him but he would always reassure you that he was fine.

spencer wrapped his arm over your thighs and pulled your down so you were actually on his face, not hovering over it. a shiver went up your spine when spencer swiped his tongue through your folds.

your hips rutted against his face as he lapped at your cunt like a man starved, you placed your hands on the headboard for stability. the sound of your moans were muffled to spencer from how your thighs covered his ears but the sound of each one still traveled directly to his cock and had his hips raising off of the bed, searching for any type of friction.

spencer moaned into your cunt as your thighs closed around his head and your release coated his tongue, the taste of you was his favorite taste.

he continued lapping at your cunt, trying to get every last drop of you but eventually you felt your thighs twitching in overstimulation and lifted yourself from his face, despite his groans of protest.

you laid down on the bed, trying to recuperate, while spencer moved off the bed and got undressed. you opened your eyes when you felt the bed dip and his hands on your thighs.

"turn around." he mumbled and leaned back on his legs as you situated yourself on your hands and knees. spencers hands found their way to your ass almost immediately, his fingers dug into the plush flesh.

you lowered your upper body so you were resting on the bed with just your ass in the air. he groaned at the sight and gave his cock a tug. spencer shuffled forward and placed his left hand on your hip, he used his right hand to guide his cock through your folds. you huffed at his teasing and pushed your hips back. spencer chuckled and lined up with your entrance, his breath catching in his throat as he pushed his hips forward.

his pace was slow to start off with but when you started to push yourself back, he knew to go faster. his fingers dug into your hips as he started to snap his hips into yours harder. you pressed your face into his pillows to try and muffle the sound of your moans, you didn't want to be getting noise complaints or anything like that. spencer leaned forward and wrapped your hair around his hand, he tugged your head up so he could hear your moans clearly.

"spencer..." you mewled, you reached back and grasped at any part of him you could reach. spencer leaned down and pressed his lips to the shell of you ear, he moved his hand from your hip and wrapped it around your torso.

"come back to me." he muttered, moving his head down to press his lips to your shoulder. you let out a shaky breath and dug your nails into his skin, he groaned as he felt your nails break skin.

"come back to me." you couldn't figure out it it was the pleasure talking for him or if he was really trying to get you back in the middle of fucking you. "you know that i'm the only one that can make you feel this good. come back to me, come home."

spencer snapped his hips into yours harder to accentuate his words, when you didn't answer him he sat up and let your hair go which caused you to fall down into the bed.

your cunt leaked around his cock as you started to push back into him with each thrust. spencer moaned when he felt you start to clench around his cock, he leaned down and placed open-mouthed kisses to the places he could reach. before you could warn him, your orgasm was rushing through your body. your hands fisted the sheets, your body tensing, and your walls spasming around his cock.

spencer rested his head on your back as he continued to thrust into you. he felt as if he was nearly in heaven with the way you felt around him, his cock twitching with each thrust sending him closer to the edge.

once again, you reached back and dug your nails into his skin, this time the feeling sent him straight over the edge, a loud moan sounding from him as he came. when you both came down, spencer pulled out and laid down beside you. you turned onto your back and looked at him, his words replaying in your head.

"you didn't-"

"i did." he shrugged, all you could do was stare down at him. you cleared your throat and got off of the bed, you quickly located your clothes and got dressed. spencer sat up and watched you scramble for your things.

"y/n, i meant what i said."

"i have to go. you know, bookclub is over." you gave him a tight lipped smile and headed for the door. you stopped for a moment and turned around to look at him. "i'll think about it."

#golden1u5t #myrarants #criminal minds fandom #spencer reid #spencer reid x fem!reader #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid fandom #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid x you #spencer reid smut #spencer reid imagine #dr spencer reid #spencer reid x fem!reader smut

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becauseicantthinkwritings · 3 days

Text

To Love and To Cherish (II)

Part 10 of my Accidentally on Purpose Series!

Warnings: CNC, oral (f), knife play (he fucks her with the hilt of his knife), bondage, threats, chasing, creepy phonecalls, mild mirror sex, somnophilia, anxiety, fear, angst, cliffhanger.

A/N: Please keep in mind that though this is dark play, everything has been discussed and even practised in advance and is fully consensual.

Hehe

@icannotbetrustedalone 😘

A late lunch is brought to your door after you wake up. You have no idea how Sam knew you were awake, perhaps she'd timed your jet lag that well.

She tells you to enjoy, that her team will be here around dusk to get you dressed for your date.

You smile at that word, knowing that she had no real clue what your husband was really up to.

Later in the day, there’s a knock on your door.

You open it to Sam, with her binder, looking eager.

“Are you ready?” She asks with a smile.

When you nod and open the door wider, she turns her head and nods too, and you blink in surprise when four other women follow her into your room with a lot of different things in hand.

You spot a garment bag, and a makeup kit, another bag has a hair curler sticking out.

They introduce themselves, their specialties are in hairstyles, makeup and nails.

You're out of your depth and you say so, glancing over at Sam for some kind of help.

“Don't worry, we already know what to do based off your preferences.” She explains, “You just have to sit back and enjoy being pampered.”

You guess you could try.

When they're done, you're surprised to see so much of yourself there.

There's a lovely little tiara on your head, your hair in a delicate updo with strands framing your face. The dress- is beyond beautiful, white shimmering fabric, an off shoulder design that makes you feel like a princess.

Your fingers and toes are freshly done in a dark red like you'd requested, so that they can match the red on your lips.

There's a small heel on your silver shoes- safe to run in while still being pretty.

“You guys are amazing.” You say in wonder as you fully assess yourself.

They laugh, happy that you're satisfied.

Sam presents one final thing to you, the one odd thing you'd asked for that wasn't in your binder.

You grin at her, ducking into the ensuite bathroom and tugging the garter out of the box, sliding it on.

There's a small knife attached to it, and you make sure it's concealed, and easily reachable through the slit in your dress before you step out again.

When they’re finished with some last minute makeup retouches, Sam smiles proudly, and wishes you a very good night, letting you know that they’ll all be leaving you soon, here alone with your husband.

You can’t help the excited pulse your nether regions give at the reminder, dressed pristinely from head to toe, all for Billy to tear off.

You grin at Sam, walking the small group of women to the door, listening quietly to their plans for the night, encouraging and enjoying their banter, sending them off with a wave into a car waiting for them.

The heavy wooden door closes with a dull sound that echoes through the castle, emphasising your desolation.

You turn, leaning against the door in your shimmery dress, taking in the quiet silence of the place.

There’s a little bit of fear tingling down your spine, the feeling of being truly alone in such a big place, not really knowing where you are, with no means of escape.

You find that it turns you on.

All dressed up, all for him, and you can’t even really leave, a headiness to the realisation, your fear is an aphrodisiac all on its own.

You bite down on the corner of your lip, smiling, pushing yourself away from the door, and decidedly picking a direction to begin your exploration.

You touch everything you see, trailing your freshly done fingertips over every item, examining the feel, appreciating the textures.

The curtains, the lighting fixtures, you examine all of it, a crown on your head that makes you almost feel like you own it all.

You get into the fantasy he’s weaved, becoming the role of the princess he’s cast you in.

You find the throne room first, a flourish of plum and golds, a large red carpet leading to the thrones in question- two- sitting side by side, beckoning you closer.

You squint, looking up at the massive chandelier that sits in the middle of the room, with little pieces of glass that if cleaned properly, would probably reflect little shards of light.

You pick the chair on the right, and settle yourself onto it, sighing happily at how comfortable it is, relaxing for a moment, before standing to continue your exploration.

You’re passing the dining room when a phone begins to ring in the distance.

It sends a shiver of fear over you, the dated sound echoing through the halls. You begin searching for it, following the rings of what you assume is an old era phone.

You find the phone on a table at the bottom of the staircase, ruby red, sitting beside a marble statue of a woman, posed with her hand in the air as if to block the light from her eyes.

It keeps ringing until you tentatively pick it up, bringing it to your ear.

“Hello?” You say softly into it.

There’s a voice on the other end, modulated to be unrecognizeable to you, but even that sends a shiver of excitement through you.

“Princess.” The voice says calmly.

You swallow.

“Who is this?”

The voice is deep, each grovel is a tremor in your body.

“I’m just a nightmare, sweetheart. I hope you’re ready for me.”

You shudder, shaking your head.

“Ready for what?”

He doesn’t answer your question.

“You look gorgeous. Prettier than I expected. It’s making me… want.”

You stiffen, taking a breath and looking around, searching the shadows for some sign of a man, lurking in the darkness.

“You can see me?” You ask in a soft whisper, laying the fear on thickly.

“Of course, princess. I’ll be inside soon, we’ll get a nice, long introduction to each other.”

You gasp in surprise, dropping the phone and moving quickly to the doors you passed during your exploration, making sure that they’re locked.

Your hand is on the door separating the kitchen from the gardens- when the lights go out.

You hear your own breath of surprise, your heart pattering in your chest, real fear being awakened inside of you when you realise that this is actually happening.

Everything is still, you’re afraid to move, the darkness becoming honey thick all around you.

Eventually, being still is too much, and you have to force your body to break the stillness around you.

There’s barely a sliver of light, the moon, casting pale streams through the windows. Instinct tells you to stay where you can see, your body backed against the window, eyes peering into the darkness as if it’s alive and coming for you.

You glance down when something shimmery catches your eye, gasping, you realise that the moonlight makes you a bigger target, your dress reflecting its beams in every direction.

It leaves you no choice but to step into the darkness.

You wonder where he is, if hands will just reach out and grab you at any given moment.

It makes your stomach tight, that what you’ve been yearning for is almost within reach.

“Hello?” You call out shyly, voice shaking just a little. You walk softly out of the kitchen, one hand against the wall to guide you, unsure of exactly where you’re going.

Suddenly, a chill runs over the back of your neck, like a soft breath from someone standing just behind you. You turn, waving your hand into the darkness, and finding nothing but air.

You feel so much like prey in that moment, searching for a predator with hunting skills beyond your comprehension.

You’re passing the dining room when your heart freezes in your chest. In the corner of your eye, you can see the silhouette of a dark figure, standing in the moonlit window.

Your breath halts in your throat, turning to face him, the swishing of your dress is louder in your ears.

The mask is- terrifying- white, with the appearance of fractured glass across it, some pieces missing over the cheek area, his real face peeking through.

He raises a hand, and presses a gloved finger to the mouth of the mask.

You turn, and run.

Fuck, this was it, it was really happening. He was here, and he was going to do all the things he promised he would, all the things you’d practised together so that he was sure you were always one hundred percent safe and comfortable.

You’re not very fast, the dress and heels slowing you down

He grabs you at the very moment the lights flick on.

It takes a moment for your eyes to get adjusted, and then you gasp when your back is slammed to a wooden wall behind you, the intricate carvings pressing uncomfortably to your spine.

His hands are on your shoulders, keeping you in place as you look up at him with fear in your eyes.

You finally get a chance to see him fully, all masked up, covered from head to toe in what can only be the most mouth watering look on the planet.

Sure, his suits were divine, but seeing him dressed down like this was a cherry on top of a malevolent cake.

It clings to his skin, the cut of his chest and arms showing through the tight, long- sleeved shirt, tucked neatly into a pair of navy combat pants, and further into boots.

It’s much easier to note where you can see his skin- on his wrists between the sleeve and the glove, his neck, and parts of his face that show through the fractured pieces of his mask.

He’s a work of devastating art, lust incarnate, bringing forth so much delight that you struggle to hide it.

“Please,” you whisper shakily, getting into character, feeling it spark arousal, “Don't hurt me.”

You watch the darkness clouds his eyes, a predator, hidden beneath layers of humanity, finally being set free.

“Oh, princess,” he whispers, leaning in, trailing his gloved thumb over your jaw and cheekbone lovingly, “I am definitely going to hurt you.”

You gasp at his words, reaching for the weapon strapped to your thigh. It was your turn to give him a surprise.

The dagger is sharp, you made sure of it, wanted it to be real, you wanted to see a genuine look of surprise in his eyes when you finally pressed it to his neck.

Except, he doesn't look surprised at all.

“Leave.” You say, with so much command in your voice that you almost believe you have the power to say something like that to him.

He studies you for a lengthy moment, before he tilts his head back and lets out a deep laugh, and even that, works to seduce you.

His hold is an iron grip on your wrist, and it was a mistake letting him grab you, he’s too strong, and no matter how hard you struggle, you can’t get your hand back.

“This knife is pathetic, princess.” He grabs the hilt, twisting it so that you’re forced to release it or have your wrist twisted too, it clatters loudly in the empty space.

“Is that all you have to fight me off with? No wonder this is so easy.”

You exhale angrily, trying to push him away, your freshly done nails digging into his arms.

He grips your hands, pulling them above your head and pinning them there with one of his.

A soft sound of distress leaves your lips, struggling to get away but your dress is too much of a hindrance, keeping your legs pressed in one place when he moves closer.

“Here, why don’t I show you mine?” He murmurs, reaching with his free hand to pull a significantly larger knife out of his boot.

You gulp, eyeing it wearily as he rubs the handle roughly against your cheek, the hilt is coated in a rubber, with indents to help with grip. He slides it around till it’s pressed to your lips, smearing your lipstick, you angle your head away to avoid it.

“I’m going to fuck you with this,” He promises, leaning in till the mouth of his mask is on your ear, “Gonna use it to get you ready for my cock.”

“No.” you murmur weakly.

“No?” He teases, “Well why don’t you try stopping me then?” He murmurs, pulling back a little to free you from his hold.

You’re surprised to be free, knowing that it’s just a trick, knowing that he wants to chase you.

You keep your eyes on his form, watching him observe you as you slowly back away.

“Go on, princess,” He says in such a condescending tone that your knees wobble, “Run away from me.”

When you're far enough away that you know he won't grab you, you turn, pulling your skirts up a little so that you can run.

Heart pounding in your chest you have no idea where you're going or what your plan is beyond running away. You couldn't very well hide in a dress that glimmers when you breathe, you couldn't fight- all you really had in your arsenal was your capacity to get him angrier.

With that in mind, you grab the first heavy thing you can find- the telephone directory- turning and chucking it in his approximate vicinity.

It doesn't slow him down at all, because he grabs your wrist in the next second, pulling you into him.

“No!” You exclaim, swiping your nails across his mask, knocking it askew so that he can't see.

You’re not proud of how hard you stomp his foot next, watching him double over with a low grunt, allowing you to get some distance.

The phone, you decide, angling your run to get you to the base of the main stairs.

You just make it to the phone- grabbing the glossy handset and raising it to your ear- before he grabs it roughly from you, reaching behind to rip all the important wires out of the back.

You almost can’t do it, wanting to drop to your knees right there and beg him to take you- but you know that deep down you had to see this fantasy fully play out.

He’s angry now, and he shows it by grabbing the entire phone and slamming it to the floor while you watch, backing away in horror, his sleek boot slamming the broken pieces until it’s nothing but ruby shards.

“Who were you going to call, princess? You don’t even know where you are.”

Jesus, you think, helplessly aroused.

The next time you turn away, he wraps an arm around your waist and picks you up.

You kick your feet in protest, scratching at his arms, trying to pry his iron grip off of you but it’s no help, you grunt, and you kick and you wriggle and still he drags your body wherever.

He drops you below the chandelier of the throne room.

It glitters in your eyes as you try to catch your bearings, sitting up you watch him grab a length of rope from his belt.

You try to scramble back but your dress catches under your feet, making you slip, falling back even more.

He grips one of your wrists while you’re disoriented, and you feel the rope wrap tightly around it. You try to push him off, but he just catches your other hand, wrapping them securely in front of you, knotting them easily.

He stands, and with a strong arm, throws the other end of the rope through a support rung of the chandelier, catching it as it swings toward him.

Then, he pulls, forcing you up onto your knees, your hands suspended in the air, as he moves to secure the rope to the throne nearby.

You struggle, trying to tug your way out, your legs tangled in your dress, stopping you from standing.

“I wouldn’t.” He warns softly, “Pull too hard and it might fall, carving up that pretty body before I’m done.”

He kneels beside you, brushing some of your hair out of your face.

“That would make me, real upset.” He breathes through the mask.

“P-lease.” You beg, turning your head to look at him, relaxing when you realise there was no escaping without hurting yourself.

“God, you're so pretty.” He trails a gloved hand over your cheek, down your chest, the leather is smooth on your skin, you shiver when his hand reaches the top of your dress.

“I almost don't want to hurt you.” his hand smooths over the front of the dress, slipping lower to gently untangle the skirts from your legs, you adjust to let him do so, thinking that it will allow you to stand up.

You turn your head to look at him, examining his eyes through the mask, the way they linger on your body, you don’t even realise what’s been done until you feel his gloved hand slip under your panties and press right to your clit.

The friction is delicious, the smooth leather providing an interesting feel between your thighs. You look down, realising he’s used the high slit of your dress to get under your skirts easily.

“Don’t.” You beg, trying to inch away, “Please.”

“I don’t fucking care what you want, princess.” He grits out harshly, his finger pressing down more firmly, slipping from side to side, the pleasure, trying to force you to shut down your resistance.

“I’m here to steal from you, and I’m going to take everything I want.”

Your breaths become shallow when his finger starts circling your aching bud, you’ve been denying yourself for so long that you feel the sweet burn of pleasure the longer he does it.

You can even feel how wet you are, in the fluidness of his movements. He breathes into your ear, and you find yourself leaning into him to take the weight off of your knees.

“Don’t do this,” You murmur weakly, “Please I’ll do anything.”

He laughs in your ear, slowing his movements to torment you.

“I’m doing you a favour, sweetheart, you should be grateful. At least I have the decency to let you cum before I fuck you with my knife.”

You make a sound of protest, angling away from him.

“No!” You cry.

He doesn’t let you move far, gripping the back of your head, till it’s tilted back, hands suspended above you, his fingers resume their fast movement on your clit.

He’s dextrous, even with gloves on, you can feel the micromovements that succeed in bringing you right up to that edge even faster.

Your eyes roll back in your head, surprised that he’s got you right on edge so soon, though you know you shouldn’t be, this is your husband after all, he knows exactly how to get you off.

The weeks of denial burn, your body not accustomed to orgasm needs an extra push getting there, he presses down even firmer, speeding up.

You groan, unable to stop it, or resist it, your stomach clenched tight with nothing in sight but the precipice of orgasm.

Don’t stop, you beg internally, please don’t stop.

It’s a hollow thing, but strong nonetheless. You breathe shallowly through gritted teeth as you reach your peak, thighs trembling, as you rut yourself helplessly on his gloved fingers.

Too good, needing just a little bit more, thighs sticky with your orgasm, his fingers growing even more messy as you come.

Your vision whites out for a moment, senses evaporating temporarily, you come back to the sound of your own panting, heavy in the room.

You don’t get a chance to look over at him with desperate eyes, he pulls his hand from between your thighs and promptly shoves his drenched fingers into your mouth.

You hum in protest, trying to pull away, but he’s still got that iron grip on the back of your head.

“Taste that slutty little cunt, princess. Remember how wet you get for me when you’re begging me to stop later.”

You can only grunt your denial, with his fingers in your mouth, the taste of leather and your arousal making its point on your tongue.

When he draws his hand back, they come out with heavy strings of saliva that cling to your bottom lip.

“You’ll pay for this.” You whisper hoarsely, your head hanging low. Your arms start to ache a little from the way they’re held above your head.

It’s the wrong thing to say, he grips your hair once more, tugging your head back to an almost uncomfortable position.

“What was that?”

You make a little sound at the way he manhandles you, tilting your head, you look him in the face.

“I said, ‘You'll pay for this.”

He studies you slowly, you watch his eyes flicker as he studies your face. You curl your hands into fists, hoping he lets you down soon.

His laughter doesn't surprise you, but it does make your stomach twist.

“Yeah? Who’s gonna make me pay? You?” He says between small sounds of amusement, reaching back, he pulls the knife from before out of his pocket.

You eye it warily, as he brings the blade up to your line of sight, you swallow, trying to breathe as you examine the wicked edge of the serrated blade.

You go perfectly still when the cool metal of the blade touches your cheek.

“You might be a pretty little thing, but you have no power to make me pay. You’re all mine to do what I want. You can’t stop me.”

You whine pitifully, knowing that his words were true.

He reaches up, cutting the rope and guiding your hands into your lap. By now, they tingle, almost numb but not quite, you sigh in relief, watching him quietly squeeze your arms.

“Don’t be scared,” He says, surprisingly soft for someone who was just running the sharp edge of a knife over your cheek, “I'm sure you'll learn to love taking my cock. Maybe with time, you'll beg me for it.”

“Go to hell.” You utter with as much venom as you can muster.

Behind the mask, you hear his laugh, watching the way he lowers his hand, flipping the knife around so that the hilt points toward you.

You lean away, your dress glittering as you move, feeble bound arms raising to push his hand back as he draws closer.

You don’t get far in stopping him, and in the next moment, you feel the hilt of his blade pressed between your thighs.

Fuck, this was too good.

Your head tips back in bliss, torn between fighting him and begging him to just take you in any way he wanted.

Your husband, the man you loved with almost every atom in your body.

“Don’t fucking touch me.” You whisper on a shaky breath, turning to look at him.

Behind the mask, he huffs, the hand in your hair wraps neatly around your throat.

Pulling you close, looking into your eyes, you can hear his angry breaths behind his mask.

He wriggles the hilt of his knife against your cunt, pleasure swelling in your head at the very touch.

He stands suddenly, sheathing his knife, grips your arm to haul you up. Your legs wobble, almost giving out beneath you before he’s wrapping his hands around your hips to lift you.

With your hands tied together, there’s nothing more you can do than wiggle, shifting your body this way and that, but he doesn’t say a word, dropping you onto one of the thrones in the next moment.

He grabs the rope that's tied to the throne- the one that had been used to pull you onto your knees just moments before- and uses it to secure each hand to either side of you.

You kick your foot out at him, and he simply grabs your ankle, gloved hand trailing up to your thigh for a moment before he bends your knee, pulling your leg over the arm of the throne, and securing your ankle to a point somewhere between the base and the foot that you can't really see.

From there, it's over for you, your other foot is caught just as swiftly, and the next thing you know, you’re tied securely to the throne with your legs opened wide, draped across the arms of the intricately carved seat.

He's silent for a moment, appreciating his work, you tug at the restraints to further reinforce his satisfaction that you can't move.

“Damn. You look like a work of art.”

You frown up at him.

He leans over you, and you finally understand the versatility he has with you in this position. He could fuck your cunt, or your mouth, or even your breasts if he so wanted and you couldn't do a damn thing.

He grips your jaw with one hand, tilting your head up, coming closer, pressing a knee into the open space between your thighs for balance. When he gets close enough, he covers your eyes, and the next thing you feel is his mouth on yours.

It gives you butterflies, the way he presses in firmly, taking with his mouth, his beard scratching softly at your chin and lips. You hum against his mouth, feeling his hold on your jaw tighten for a second before he's shoving his tongue past your lips.

Like he owns you, his kiss consumes your senses, your bound fingers curling into little fists as you enjoy kissing him for a few moments more.

Before you bite down harshly on his tongue.

He pulls away in a split second, back to you as he presses his hand to his mouth. You grin in victory as he tugs the mask sitting on his head back down to his face before turning to face you angrily.

He's slow when he approaches, predatory with his long legs and his cocky attitude.

He drops to one knee in front of you, tilts his head, leaning in.

You hear the loud thud of his hand slamming into the space beside your head long before you've registered what's happened.

It makes you flinch in surprise, despite the fact that he'd practised it with you before. It seems way more sinister now, with his masked persona feeling like a different person altogether.

Naturally, the fear spinning inside of you, only succeeds in making you more aroused.

“You're such a brat, I almost want to fuck you right now with no prep.” He presses his thumb between your spread legs, ambling slowly over your clothed clit, “I bet I'd make that little cunt cry with how much I stretch her.”

You suck in a slow breath.

“Please don't.”

He pulls his knife out again.

“You don’t really have a choice.” He answers, carefully angling the cool blade between the seam of your panties.

“Don’t move, little girl, or I might accidentally hurt you- on purpose.” He teases, tugging the knife toward him so that your panties are cut through with zero effort.

You sigh in relief when your cunt is finally exposed to the cool air, sticky with arousal, you groan when he tugs your undergarment free.

“Look at that weepy little hole princess- fuck- she’s so empty, isn’t she?”

“Noo” You hum softly, clenching around nothing as he studies your most delicate area.

He moves slowly, almost reverent in his actions, notching the tip of his hilt against your entrance, you feel your lungs seize as the pleasure hits you.

You hiss when he presses in, the ridged hilt stretching you open, not as big as his cock, but certainly larger than his fingers.

You take it as best as you can, relaxing, eyes watering with an abundance of pleasure.

He tilts his head, makes a single click of his tongue.

“She’s so greedy,” He says breathlessly, “Look at that.” He sinks more of the hilt in.

You bite your lip, moaning when he pulls slowly out, pushing in again.

He starts slow, moving softly until you can take all of the hilt. He grips the blade, you wonder if the glove protects him from the sharp edge.

You want to say his name, but he hasn’t given it, so you settle for sniffling, your bottom lip wobbling wetly as he takes his time.

“Stop.” You mewl, trying to stay in character, looking at his masked face, watching his dark eyes look back.

“No, sweetheart,” He says evenly, “I’m going to play with you, until I’m done.”

You suck in a deep breath, holding it.

He quickens his pace just a little, and before you know it, your cunt has locked tight around the hilt of his knife, every blunted ridge of it being imprinted into your head as you see stars.

It’s unexpected, you hadn’t meant to cum, your body jerking helplessly against the restraints, you pant, unable to see straight for a few moments.

You gulp in air, coming back to your senses. He waits patiently for your orgasm to subside, your body to relax before he works the hilt out of your eager cunt.

“You’re so pretty when you do that.” He says, tucking his knife back into his belt, studying you for a moment before reaching up to shove two of his fingers past your lips.

You can’t go anywhere, simply forced to feel him carefully push and pull his fingers in and out of your mouth, the weight on your tongue encouraging your brain to surrender to him.

When he determines his fingers are wet enough, he glides them down your chest, and tugs at the front of your dress.

It takes a little work before his thumb and index find your pert nipple.

A breath of air leaves you, and your back arches involuntarily, begging for more of his touch.

“You like it, huh? Kinda pathetic.”

“Rot in- f- hell.” You grunt, eyes rolling back as pleasure swims in your head from the way he takes his time to play with your nipples.

You feel his hand, drag over your stomach as he chuckles, the rushing sound as he disturbs the fabric of your skirts. Deft fingers rub circles into your inner thigh before a lone finger slips under the silky elastic garter that was holding your little knife.

You watch him assess you, bound arms and spread thighs and his masked face tilts as his eyes meet your centre.

“So pretty.” He mumbles, before he leans in, lifts his mask to the top of his head and lays a gentle lick to the seam of your cunt.

You gasp in surprise, unable to see his face with the mask atop his head, all you can do is feel- the way he licks gently at you, softly, the need burning white hot with each moment he teases. His tongue trails up to your clit, offers you a preview of the pleasure he can give, before placing slow swipes of his tongue over you.

You sigh, the fight leaves your limbs, you feel like jelly above him, with a tongue that can only be described as godly.

There’s no way you can continue fighting past this, his tongue pulls obedience from you, compliance, it makes you willing and eager to let him do whatever he wanted, helpless for your perfect husband.

You let out a slow moan, head tipping back, thighs trembling with the way his tongue moves, gliding over your clit, showing you exactly what he was capable of without ever actually giving you anything.

“Please,” You simper, unable to resist, with the tongue of such a dextrous man working on you.

If he wants to ask you about where your fight went, he doesn’t bother, merely laughing into your heated cunt, the fractures of his pale mask staring back at you.

Almost there, your fingers curl tight, nails pressed to the flesh of your palms as your breathing hastens.

There’s a rushing in your head, pressure all over, threatening to make you burst apart.

You’re not sure if he knows or cares, his mask moving slightly when his head does, when his tongue, the raving appendage it is, delves through you.

Faster and yet faster, slippery tongue gliding over you, aimed at your oversensitive bundle of nerves, delicate movements of his tongue that are going to unravel you.

His beard rough against your thighs, a wet smacking sound, warm air brushing over you as he exhales, the reminder that he's there, enjoying his time on his knees, unwilling to stop until you've hit that peak.

He presses in closer, his grip on your thighs tightening, firm in their reminder that he’s there- as if you could forget. Your body shakes, soft whines leave your throat, his tongue harsher on your clit.

“I-” You try to say, but your body decides that you’ve spoken enough, you bite down on your bottom lip, every muscle in your body pulled tight.

The first thing you do when your orgasm hits, is tremble.

A sweet fire erupts inside of you, an insurmountable amount of pleasure spreading over you. Your breathing is harsh, heaving, his soft tongue licks you through it, gentle now and soothing between your thighs, no doubt drinking deep of your orgasm.

You press your hips into his face, unable to stop yourself, and he rewards the movement with more careful touches of his tongue.

The rope holding your arms and legs down chafes slightly, protesting your movement, and after a minute, you slump into the chair, boneless and sated.

Your breathing remains harsh, lips wet from being trapped between your teeth, your face is hot, you can feel each time the blood reaches your cheeks, each time your heart contracts in your chest.

You can't hold yourself up and you know it. If you weren't tied up you'd be in a boneless pile.

“Not bad, princess.” He says, warm breath on your thighs. He raises his body to be in your line of sight, the mask still covering his face.

You feel your nipples tingle, excitement stiffening them as he hovers above you.

He tilts his head to study you, his gloved finger tapping the tip of your nose, sliding down to your parted lips.

“You look real pretty when you come. Your mouth opens and your eyes roll back sometimes- makes me want to do it again and again so I can memorise the way you look.”

It's hard to respond, brain hazy with post-orgasmic bliss, but you have to- you need to.

“Please,” You whisper, “You're not the first man to make me come, and you won't be the last.”

You know you're in real trouble when his hand wraps around your throat.

Your eyes widen, he squeezes hard for a moment, which only succeeds in filling your brain with mindless pleasure. You don't bother trying to breathe, waiting till his grip loosens to take a small breath.

“If you think,” He grunts angrily, leaning in till he hovers over you, “that another man is ever going to touch you, you're more delusional than I thought, princess.”

You can only make a small grunt of protest, gazing angrily up at him.

“And maybe I can't control who touched you before I met you, but I can still gift you their heads.”

It makes your breath stutter in shock.

He releases your throat, pressing the tip of his gloved finger to your bottom lip.

“Tug this off. I want to really touch you now.”

You hold his eyes while your teeth sink into the tip of his glove, biting down on his finger too. He pulls down, dislodging his finger from the glove. You release it, and repeat the process with all five of his fingers, and finally, when they're all loose, you clamp your teeth down on the middle finger of his glove and he pulls his hand free easily.

It smears your lipstick no doubt, and you probably look quite messy by now, no doubt your hair is askew as well.

He reaches down after he makes you help with his other glove, and you hear the slow drag of his zipper. Nothing has ever sounded so euphoric.

You look up at him with wide eyes to find that he's already looking at you.

His eyes terrify you, so much darkness in them, you wonder how you'd never seen it before.

“Don't do this.” You beg, startling when you feel his hot cock brush your inner thigh.

At the same time, the main lights flicker off, only the small auxiliary lights on the walls glow softly.

The darkness in his eyes grow, until it becomes an extension of the room.

“Just breathe, princess, this is going to hurt.”

It does at first.

Even though you've come three times so far, and he's used the hilt of his knife on you, and also his tongue to help further your wetness, his size still pinches.

It's been a while, and you feel it in the way he stretches you open, going slow because he knows he's not an easy man to take.

But God, he feels so good.

The pain comes with double the pleasure, that makes your eyes roll back in your head, bound hands curling into fists, nails digging into your palm in an attempt to process the feeling.

He pushes the tip of his cock in, works carefully to fill you, slows down when he encounters resistance.

You take a shallow breath, coming back to your senses a little, looking up at him as he works himself into you.

He rocks his hips, encouraging your body to feel him, to welcome him in, and you have no control over it, surrendering to him easily.

He's so deep you feel it in your throat, a shuddering mess as he bottoms out, you feel tears spring to your eyes, a fullness you've been craving.

Your lips tremble, watery vision glued to the mask, you couldn't look away if you wanted to.

“Should I stop?” He asks, a minuscule tremor of his voice that gives away that he's not as unaffected as he seems.

You can't say the words, the lie too big to be voiced, but you want to keep playing despite how desperately you need him.

You bite down on your bottom lip, nodding softly.

He blinks behind the mask, a tilt of his head to study you.

Arms braced on either side of you, he leans in till the mask touches your cheek.

“That's too bad.” He murmurs.

Then, he draws out, before pressing into you once more.

You make a small sound, and then another when he does it again, the slow drag of his cock is torture, but that's the best part.

You whine, unable to speak, or voice your frustrations, but he chuckles above you, already knowing that he's not giving you what you need.

It's slow, so fucking slow and yet deep enough to create spots of black in your vision.

He grunts above you, and the sound goes right down to your cunt, clamping around him for a second before releasing.

“Fuck.” He growls, “You're so tight. I'm going to love coming in you.”

This was it, time to be the best actress possible.

“N-no, you can't! I'm- I'm not-”

His laugh is so dark it sends shivers down your spine.

Deep and low, devastatingly malicious.

“I can’t?” He teases.

You shake your head no quickly, eyes wide in shock and fear.

He pauses his slow movements to look down at you, too enraptured to focus on two things at once.

“Who’s going to stop me, princess? You?”

You struggle against your bindings helplessly.

“It's okay, we both know you'll learn to like it.”

With those words, he resumes his slow pace.

It's not fair, barely realistic you've never had an orgasm creep up on you like this.

You don't understand, his cock is moving slow, and yet all your pleasure spots are sparking. Is it his size? Or maybe he just knows your body so well that he can force an orgasm so sweet out of you that it almost hurts.

But you can feel every spark, every short circuit of your brain, your toes curl, and your back stiffens, and the dangerous man above you draws it out, wringing each drop of pleasure before moving to the next.

“Perfect.” He whispers, almost sounding out of breath, and when your chest begins to burn, he delivers one harsh thrust of his cock that makes you topple like a house of cards.

A moan leaves your mouth on every other breath, unable to control your vocalisations, or even your breathing, clamped so tightly around him that he makes a low grunt before you feel him spill inside of you. It makes it that much better, knowing that he's hit his peak at the same time you have.

You come back to your senses slowly, his mask coming into focus.

Each breath eases the burning pleasure, replacing it with sweet euphoria, a drug like never before.

He’s panting too, trembling a little, no doubt struggling to stay upright after his first orgasm in six weeks.

And here you are, about to taunt him for it.

“Is that it?” You ask softly.

You’re a little unprepared for the way his eyes scald you.

“Is my cunt that good?” You continue to tease.

He closes his eyes, takes a slow breath to calm himself.

When he looks at you again, you know you're in a lot of trouble.

He leans away, reaches for his knife before slowly cutting the ropes free from around your ankles.

You hiss when he frees your arms, noticing that there's the impression of the rope on your wrists, you rub them as you right your legs, moving them from their previously spread state.

He watches you, and you do the same warily.

“Stand up.”

You gulp, pushing yourself onto wobbly legs, you sway for a moment, before looking over at him expectantly.

He’s still wearing the mask, but by now you’re aching to see his face, you wanted to see your husband while he did these wicked things to you.

He tilts his head toward the door, and your eyes follow the motion, not understanding until he speaks.

“Get out.”

Your head swivels back to him.

“Go, before I change my mind.”

This was another game, you realise, you’d made him mad, and he was going to show you exactly how helpless you were.

You back away, like always, keeping your eyes on his. You can feel his cum, smearing the inside of your thighs as you move. It only makes you more aroused.

You smooth your dress out anxiously, looking down at the shimmery material, and then back up at him, slowly backing away until you’re far enough that he won’t grab you from behind.

When you make it to the door, he’s still standing where he was, looking at you in the dimly lit room.

You can feel your heart in your throat with the fear of everything around you, a sinister ambience, the thrill of being chased.

Outside is dim as well.

The main lights are off. All you have to go on are the smaller lights along the walls.

You don’t get too far from the throne room before all the auxiliary lights flicker off as well.

The darkness squeezes at your heart, a shiver going down your spine. Your eyes struggle to adjust to the distinct nothingness.

The room is still, quiet around you but you can feel him everywhere. It’s like he’s the darkness surrounding you, touching your skin, depriving you of everything except himself.

It’s why you’re not surprised when you feel him at your back.

His hand reaches around, grips your throat and uses the leverage to pull you back. He isn’t gentle, squeezing at the sides harshly to ensure you’re paying attention to him, as if you could ever be distracted.

His bare hand, warm, coarse, thumb and middle finger pressed to either side of your neck. You go lightheaded at the sensation.

You feel his nose press into your hair, his lips ghosting over the shell of your ear and you realise he’s taken his mask off.

“I change my mind.” He whispers darkly, laughs when you struggle.

You pull out of his grip, and you run as fast as your legs can take you.

He doesn’t chase, and you make it a good distance away, tucking your body behind a wall to catch your breath. You don’t know where you are, but you assume it’s somewhere near the front doors. The pins in your hair are uncomfortable, and you take your time tugging the little tiara out of your hair, dropping it to the floor.

You can feel his cum, making an even bigger mess, and the implications of that only succeed in heightening your arousal.

The sound of his knife, dragging against the wooden panels on the walls catch your attention. You lift your head, a tug of desire pulls below your navel.

“You know, the first time I met you, really met you, I couldn't believe you were real.” He says, his voice carrying through the quiet hallway.

“You looked at me, and you listened, and all I could think about was how to get you alone, away from that useless boyfriend of yours.”

Your lips part, head pressed to the wall, eager to hear his words, your heart drumming in your chest.

“And when you left me that night, I went back to my lonely apartment, and I found out everything I could about you. I didn’t sleep. I needed to find something to hate- something that would help me stop obsessing over a girl I’d met one time.”

His voice gets closer and you know you have to move, or else he was going to find you.

Quietly, you kick your shoes off, abandoning them so that your steps can be quieter, you lift your skirts slowly, trying to stop the swishing sound it makes.

“You know what I found? Nothing. Nothing could make me hate you, nothing could stop what you started when you smiled at me, all of it made me want you.”

Your heart hammers even more with his words.

“And while I was trying to come up with a plan to make you mine, I’d been yours for ages.”

You stop, turning to his voice as he says that last part, wanting to go to him, to hold him, to tell him the secret you’d been keeping for weeks- that you were his too.

“Don’t fret too much about it though, princess. There’s no need to worry, I’ll feel all better once you come on my cock.”

You gasp, backing away, one hand behind you to stop you from bumping into anything. He was absolutely insane in the best way.

You can’t see a damn thing, feeling your way around to find the entrance you’d come through, your breathing is loud in your ears, you’re sure he can hear you.

You were conflicted. You wanted to run towards the scary man hiding in the darkness, though you know it would be worth your while to run away.

“You want me so bad?” You taunt into the darkness, “You’ll have to catch me first.”

Skirts in hand, you follow the first light you see- the moonlight streaming through the kitchen windows, the feel of the carpet runner helps you move in a straight line, and the next thing you know is that you’re at the foot of the stairs.

You look back, trying to make shapes out of the darkness, but there’s nothing there, you turn and begin your ascent.

You don’t know where he is, he could be two feet or two inches behind you and you wouldn’t know.

Your body is warm from the adrenaline, the dress constricts your breathing.

You stop for a second time when you find what you think is a tea room.

There’s a large wooden table sitting in front of an equally large window, the moonlight streaming in allows you to see that there’s a wall of mirrors on one side of the room. On the other side, is a smaller round table with a porcelain teapot, and other matching dishes.

“Surprise.” He says from right behind you, and you swear your heart jumps right out of your chest.

Before you can turn to look at him, your cheek is pressed to the large table, one hand behind your neck, the other pulls your skirts up.

When he has your ass exposed, his hand comes down hard on your soft flesh. You cry out.

“That’s for all your mouthing back.” He grunts, before spanking you again.

It hurts, stings so sweetly, you try to rise but his hand is firm on the spot between your neck and shoulder.

When he’s satisfied, he reaches down between your legs.

He clicks his tongue, his fingers swiping through the mess between your thighs.

“Look at the mess you made. Don't you have any kind of consideration for how hard I worked to put my cum in you?”

You feel him move, you assume to take his cock out. Your suspicions are confirmed when you feel him kick your legs wider, pressing his tip to your entrance.

You mewl helplessly when he enters you.

Stretched once more, he feels bigger in this position, his pace is harsh, fucking into you meaningfully, your eyes roll back in your head, spit slipping from past your lips as your face is kept pressed to the table.

You feel a sharp tug and your dress loosens, too pleasure drunk to figure out why.

The glide of his cock quells your urge to fight, your body sparking, electrified at the feeling of him.

He pulls you upwards, and the front of the dress sags, exposing your front to the air.

“Look at us.” He growls into your ear, turning your head to the mirror, you see your bodies reflecting back. Him, in his tight shirt and open pants, you with your beautiful shimmering dress caught between your bodies and hanging off your shoulders. It’s the first time for the night that you see his face, and your eyes are locked on how handsome he looks, hair askew, filling you with his magnificent erection.

He’d cut the back of your dress, you realise absentmindedly, your full breasts on display for him because of that, a small sound leaving your chest as he enters you again.

“We’re perfect together.” He acknowledges, you internally agree.

He presses his lips to your shoulder, meeting your eyes in the mirror, his teeth flashing for a second before he bites you.

You cry out, the sweet burn of it only succeeds in making you want him more and more.

He doesn’t stop when you come, only slows for a moment to help you catch your breath before he continues.

“All mine now, princess.” He affirms, his hips slapping against yours, filling you till your vision blurs.

Deeper than ever, you feel his cock press securely to your cervix, eager to have him fill you with his cum.

You take a shuddering breath, so close to another orgasm, unable to think about anything with the way he feels.

Your nails claw at the table, willing your body to take him, your perfect husband, giving you just what you need. He groans above you, enjoying you almost as much as you enjoy him.

The pleasure builds, swimming in your head, worsening with each move of his cock inside of you. He holds nothing back, all of his energy is focused on filling you as hard and as fast as he can, leaving nothing behind but hot, near blistering, rapture.

You cry out when you come, body shuddering, a loud roaring in your head. He grunts loudly, following you over the edge, filling you with even more of his hot cum.

After a moment, he draws out of you, helping you stand, he gently pulls your dress off, discarding it on the ground, he reaches to scoop your swaying body into his arms.

You’re sated, unable to lift your head. You feel him rest you gently on a soft, cool bed.

The sheets are amazing on your overstimulated skin, and you peek your eyes open to watch him pull his tight fitting shirt over his head.

In the low light, your eyes find his tattoo, you smile softly as it ripples, watching him kick his shoes and pants off too, until he’s hovering above you, naked.

“You’re so gorgeous.” You whisper dreamily, raising a hand to press it to his cheek.

He lets out an air of amusement, he reaches around, gripping one of your legs to wrap it around his hip.

“Only the best for you, princess.” He hums, before you feel him push his cock into you once more.

You fall asleep to him fucking you, your adrenaline crashes after countless orgasms, and before you know it you’re out. You wake a few hours later to find him inside you once more.

You moan his name, your body still eager and receptive to him, having craved this side of him for so long.

“Messy pile of wife.” He grunts into your ear mid-thrust, “Just like I promised.”

There’s so much of his cum slipping out, you can feel it, you can’t wait for him to top you up with more.

He kisses your cheek, licks a stripe through the tears slipping from the corner of your eyes.

“Cum for me. One more time, baby.”

You gasp, nodding, head filled with cotton, floating in the clouds, lost in his essence.

You blink hazily after you feel the smooth metal plug slip in, soothing you with its coolness, arousing you with the reminder that he’s filled you to the brim.

You’re pressed against him, his hand wrapped securely around you. He stretches to reach something on the bedside table.

You’re almost asleep when you feel him slip your ring back onto your finger.

It makes you complete, eases any lingering worry.

“I love you, Billy.” You murmur, before you finally let sleep take you.

It wakes him up.

He blinks in shock, turning to look at you.

You’ve already fallen asleep, breaths even with your left hand pressed to his chest.

Had you really just said what he thinks you just said?

He considers shaking you awake, desperate to hear you say it again. To tell him what he’s been dreaming of for years.

What if it was a mistake? His mind asks.

His stomach drops.

What if you didn’t really mean it?

He swears he breaks his own heart in the moments after you say those four words.

He stays awake for a while, trying to memorise your words, the way you said them, the way they made him feel. He tries to learn the hour and the minute and the position of the moon in the sky at the very moment the words left your mouth.

He wonders if he’ll ever hear them again, wonders if this would be the only time in his life that you say these words to him.

If this is all he gets, he decides he’s going to cherish it.

“I love you too.” He whispers, with everything he has.

You’re curled up against him the next morning having breakfast when you finally take the time to examine your ring.

Your body is sore, having been fucked thoroughly, but you were a little proud to see the litany of scratches over the expanse of Billy’s back. You weren’t the only one marked last night.

You raise your hand to offer him a piece of your buttered croissant, he eagerly takes a bite.

“My ring looks the same. What did you change?” You ask, reaching for more jam.

“The inside.” He says with his mouth full.

You smile, pulling it off your finger to see what’s there. On the silver surface on the inside, you can see something engraved. At first you think it’s words, but as you bring the ring closer to your face you realise it’s numbers.

“I’m still confused.” You state.

He makes a little hum, having just swallowed his food.

“If you go to my bank, and show them this ring, and give them your fingerprint, you can withdraw from any of my personal accounts.”

You blink, your eyebrows drawing together.

After a moment you give him a confused look.

He chuckles, reaching up to cup your face, his thumbs smoothing over your tense eyebrows, encouraging them to relax.

“Any amount, little wife, any time.” He elaborates.

You blink in shock.

He was… giving you access to his money?

“Is that safe?” You ask warily.

“Planning to take all my money?” He teases.

“No! But- what if someone steals the ring… or… kidnaps me and forces me to take it?”

“That will never happen.” He promises, his fingers tightening on your cheek to reinforce his words, “As long as I’m breathing, and even if I’m not, you will always be safe.”

“You can’t stop breathing,” You fight back, leaning in to wrap your arms around him, “I won’t let you.” The words are muffled against his shirt.

He laughs.

“Noted.”

He grunts, his fingers curling over yours as they grip the back of the soft couch.

“Hold on.” He commands, just as he slides his amazing cock into your body.

You make a soft sound of delight, tipping your head back to rest on his chest. He groans into your ear, fucking up into you slowly and thoroughly.

His skin is hot, having spent the morning of the second day exploring the gardens outside, only to come back in and ravish you on the sitting room couch.

His left hand drops down, thick fingers find your swollen clit.

“Sing for me. Let me hear you, wife.”

You whine, the sensation of his fingers rolling over your clit makes your legs shake.

“Gonna take my cum like a good girl?” He grovels in your ear.

You bite down on your bottom lip, nodding, seeing stars as he rubs your clit with more fervour.

“Fucking perfect.” He moans, and the words go right to your cunt, setting you off.

He growls in your ear when you clench around him, it only makes your orgasm last that much longer, eager to have him cum, you roll your hips on his cock.

It succeeds in working him into a frenzy, and you’re face down, with your ass in the air in the next moment.

He licks your slit harshly before his cock slides right back in, moving faster, his hips set a brutal pace, your next orgasm is like a gunshot.

He falls beside you after he comes, out of breath with a dopey grin on his face.

“What is it?” You ask curiously.

“Nothing really,” He gasps, “I just feel really fucking good.”

You smile shyly, leaning up to kiss him.

You’re whisking eggs for french toast when his arms wrap around you.

He presses his nose into your hair, breathing in your soft smell.

“Morning.” He grovels into your ear, feels your body shiver.

“Hello Mister Russo. Sleep okay?’

He chuckles, remembering the feel of your lips around his cock as he came last night. Fuck, you were delightfully insatiable.

“Like a rock,” He confirms, “Join me for a bath?”

“Yeah,” You agree, “Let me finish this batch and I’ll be right there.”

“Don’t keep me waiting, little wife.” He whispers as he pulls back, reaches for an apple sitting in the basket nearby, taking a slow bite.

“I won’t. Love you.” You say absentmindedly.

Billy stops.

He turns to stare at your back in shock. You continue moving as if you haven’t said anything strange.

“What was that?” He asks.

You raise your head to glance at him.

“I’ll be right there.”

“No, the last part.”

You blink, a look of confusion on your face.

“I… love you?”

The room goes still, the only sound is the french toast as it sizzles.

“You love me?” He asks, his heart getting heavier and lighter at an alarming rate.

“Yeah? I-I said it to you on our first night. You- you said it back.”

He did remember saying it back.

“I thought you said it accidentally.”

You pause, reaching to turn the stove off, before facing him.

“You thought my tongue slipped and I told you I loved you without meaning it?”

Billy swallows.

“I thought the number of orgasms had gotten to your head and you were saying things that might not be totally true.”

Your eyebrows raise in realisation.

“It was true. I’ve been… feeling like that for a while.”

“Like you love me.” He says dumbly.

You nod your head.

“Like I love you.” You confirm.

This wasn’t an outcome Billy had ever seen coming. Sure, he’d been hoping for fondness, that he could give you a comfortable life and you could be content by his side.

But love?

Unthought of.

“Why the fuck would you love me?” He whispers, horrified.

He’d done so many bad things, ruined your life in so many ways.

You take a careful step in his direction.

“What’s not to love? You’re smart, and strong and you go after what you want-”

“-One of those things was you.” He argues.

You laugh. He wasn’t joking.

“Yeah, how I got here wasn’t the best, but, I’m glad I am, and I wouldn’t want to be anywhere else.”

He takes a step toward you, and then another, and then his arms are pulling you into a soul crushing hug.

“You love me.” He murmurs into the top of your head.

“Yes,” You reply, holding him just as tightly, “I do.”

“Where are we anyway?” You ask on the fourth night.

He raises his head from between your thighs.

“Europe.” He answers vaguely, before dropping his head to lap gently at your clit once more.

You smile happily, leaning back against the library desk.

“Billy?”

“Mmm?” He hums from between your thighs.

“I love you.”

You feel the breath he lets out before he pulls back.

He kisses you, lips wet with your arousal, a tart taste on your tongue that makes you smile when he pulls away.

“I’ll show you how much I love you.” He mumbles, dropping to his knees once more.

Coming back to his apartment after that had felt surreal.

Like it was all a dream, the fucking best dream you’d ever had.

You’d been given a letter from your mother at the front desk, and you’d happily dropped it to the floor the minute Billy had pulled you into his arms for a slow kiss.

It was… magical, your fingers glazing through his beard, gripping his hair, the next thing you know you’re being lifted and taken to his bedroom.

The fire hadn’t left either of you, burning, sizzling sparks each time you touched, each time you held his hand or kissed his cheek.

He was all over you, inside and out, claiming you in a way you knew deep down would never be done by another.

“My wife.” He groans into your ear when he comes.

You pant, reaching up to kiss him, legs wrapped tightly around his hips to keep him inside of you for as long as possible.

Your husband.

He leaves you in the early morning of the next day. It’s training day and he wants to get there early to get a jump on what he’s missed.

He kisses a path between the valley of your breasts down to your womb before he leaves, dressed in a crisp charcoal suit. You grin happily as you fall back asleep.

Later, when it’s time for you to leave for work, you find that manila envelope your mom had sent you sitting on the kitchen counter. Billy had probably picked it up from the floor where you had left it yesterday when he was leaving for work earlier.

You reach for it after you’re done hopping around to tug your heel on.

It’s unopened, so you take your time peeling it open, wondering what it was. Last time it had been a bunch of recoloured family photos, you assumed this was probably more of the same.

It’s not, it’s a stack of papers. At first, it’s odd things like flyers for bikes, and a bouncy castle rental ad. You flip through, a little concerned that your mother might be losing her mind.

Your face falls when you flip another page, and find what’s really been sent.

SUPREME COURT OF THE STATE OF NEW YORK

You could feel your heart turn to ice.

You see your name printed under Plaintiff, and under Defendant, is Billy’s. Most of your information has been filled out, including your fucking social security number. Most of Billy’s information is missing, only his real name is there.

Then you see it.

‘The grounds for dissolution of the marriage are as follows:’

Divorce papers.

These were divorce papers.

A/N: DON'T HURT ME THANKS

#billy russo #billy russo x reader #accidentally on purpose #accidentally on purpose married billy #billy russo x female reader #my writings #the punisher #billy russo smut #dark!billy russo

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little-miss-dilf-lover · 2 days

Note

Pregnancy scare with Tan? 🫢

im so not okay bc I love stuff like this😮‍💨 thanks for requesting, hope you like it💌

I haven’t used a tan gif in so long omg!! this makes it fun

BROWN PAPER BAG.

tangerine x fem!reader — angst

word count. 895

warnings. made it angsty and a little dramatic bc i love prego scare fics. the ending is meant to be up in the air, so you can imagine the results you want.

Late periods were often nothing to worry about, your underwear almost always spotting with blood mere hours after your little panics. Though, this time, it felt different. Those few hours never rolled around, and they quickly began to turn into days - and with every day that passed, your head filled with more dread.

You didn't want to worry Tangerine with something that could be nothing, so you kept all uneasy thoughts to yourself - letting yourself wallow in the feeling alone. But you were never truly alone, and no matter how hard you pushed him away, he would still be there - patiently waiting for you to let him back in.

He noticed the change in you recently, and every time he tried to question it, all he would get from you in response was a simple, 'it's nothing,' or a 'just tired.' But he's far too stubborn to let that be it.

You had just returned home from the pharmacy, brown paper bag stashed tightly inside your handbag - keeping it hidden. You place it on the sideboard beside the front door and head to the kitchen to get a drink, filling a glass with water.

Tangerine makes his way over to you and presses a kiss into your cheek, welcoming you back. "Don't suppose you got me deodorant?" he asks, referring to the little list he gave you before you left.

You hum, smiling at him as you place the glass down, moving across to get a snack from the cupboard. "In my bag," you gesture to the front door.

Before you have a second to realise what you've said, Tangerine has his hand in your bag, his grip tight on the paper bag. When you hear the rustling, you rush over to him and try to pry it from his hands.

He would've left it be, but you were so desperate to stop him that it only made him more sceptical. He holds the bag at a height, extending the other out to you - keeping you at a distance.

"Don't— just," you mutter, reaching for the bag. "Come on, just— please. Give it back."

"No," he shakes his head, voice almost stern. "Do you want to tell me? Or should I save us the trouble and look myself?" he asks, giving you no options.

You shake your head, lips tight to stop them from wobbling. You felt cornered, stuck in a problem you created for yourself. You stand still, containing your attempts to stop him, but when his hand reaches inside the bag, you turn around and leave the room - the atmosphere growing tense for you to want to deal with.

You make your way to your shared room, leaving him in the hallway to connect the dots by himself. You felt mortified for the way it had all just played out, embarrassment creeping in and replacing those feelings of dread. You close the bedroom door when you hear the stairs creak, the familiar footsteps of your lover making his way up.

He knocks on the door before he opens it. He lingers in the doorway for a beat, watching you fiddle with things on the dresser.

"Why didn't you tell me?" he asks, tone like that of hurt. "That's why you've been so off with me."

You hate keeping him in the lurk, especially about something as big as this —though it still could be nothing— so you decide to stop fighting it.

"I'm late," you utter, avoiding his focused gaze. "I'm late. And I'm scared for what it means."

He pauses, trying to collect himself and push away his prior wounded feelings - wanting to reassure you, seeing as you needed it more right now.

"And that's why you bought..." he strings off, referring to your bag of pregnancy tests.

You sigh softly and pinch the bridge of your nose. "Yeah," you nod, moving to sit at the edge of the bed. "I should've told you," you speak towards the floor - diverting from his attention.

He follows suit and stands in front of you, crouching down to meet your eyeline. "Yeah, you should've," he hums. "But that don't matter right now. How late are you?" he asks, looking over the rectangular box.

"Nearly two weeks," you mumble, sadly smiling at him.

"Two weeks?" he repeats, tone hurt like that time before. "You've been feeling this for two weeks. And you didn't tell me?"

"I wanted to be sure," you shrug, trying to ease the tension. "It's usually nothing to worry about. It's late sometimes, but," you exhale, halting the rest of your sentence.

"But not like this," he finishes your thought. "I really wished you'd told me."

"I know, I'm sorry. I feel awful about it all."

"I wanted to be there for you," he places a hand over your knee, using you for stability as he stands back up.

He reaches for your hand and helps you stand, his gentle grip leading you towards the bathroom. He stops when he reaches the door and turns to face you - the small white box clutched in his free hand.

"Do you want me to wait out here?" he questions, trying to scope you out.

"No," you reply, finally letting him in. "Can you do it with me?"

He hums, giving your hand a squeeze. "Course."

#everythingisspokenfortbh #tangerine #tangerine x reader #tangerine angst

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mayadarlings · 13 hours

Text

No longer a fan.

—★! Tags: NSFW, MDNI, Jaw hurting blowjob, creampie, not proofread + made late at night.

★- Part 1 here!! Part 2 here!! Part 3 here!!

The sight of his cock in front of you made your eyes grow wide, your tongue peaking out between your lips as Simon runs a hand through your hair. “Think I like that look on your face doll,” he breathes, fisting his length in his opposite hand. You can’t bring yourself to look away as he gives it a few strokes, pre-cum beading at the tip. You’re lost for words, hands reaching up to rest on his muscular thighs. You see his cock twitch in reaction, leaning forward to take him into your mouth before his fingers stop you in your tracks.

His laugh is cruel in your ears. “Eager little thing aren’t you?” He waves his cock in front of your face, barely brushing it against your lips as he holds you steady. He’s teasing you, enjoying the way your mouth opens for him, practically begging for him to fuck it. Even when you squirm in place and your thighs press together he refuses to indulge in the temptation that is your sinful mouth, wanting to see just how desperate you can get for him before he takes what he wants from you.

“Hungry for it, ain’t you? So innocent-looking but the whole time you’re just a cock-hungry whore.” You whine again, pressing your nails into the meat of his thighs. The sting of it makes his eyes roll. “Come on, use your words,” he gasps, almost feeding you his thick cock—so close, and yet so far. “Use your words darling, tell me what you want and I’ll give it to you.”

He's a real bastard, the way he makes you beg for him. But you can't resist, even as your mouth hesitates to open. Your shame is long gone, especially since he already had his fingers inside you. "Please, Simon," you plead, your cheek pressing against his thigh as you look up at him with those coy eyes of yours. You want his cock now, there's no denying it.

Simon hums in approval as his hand gently guides your head. His cock stands tall in front of you, emitting a powerful musky scent that makes your senses reel. The aroma awakens a deep desire within you for more, more of him and what he can offer. You eagerly take his cock into your mouth, your lips latching onto the head and your tongue eagerly exploring every inch. He tastes so good, a delicious mixture of saltiness and sweat that ignites your taste buds and fills your throat as you try to take more of him, ignoring the slight burn at the back of your throat.

“Yes, that’s it, you’re a natural,” he grunts, being careful enough not to push your head too far. “Just needed someone to stuff that pretty mouth, is that it?” You’re already a sloppy mess, spit running down your chin, eyes watering. Simon's intense gaze pierces through you, filled with twisted desire as he watches you go down on him. You seem so small trapped between his legs, sucking him off with such vigor that he worries your jaw might lock up. He tightens his grip on your hair, pulling you away for a moment to help catch your breath but all he hears is a whimper from your lips. "Don't worry, doll. I'm not going anywhere."

You gaze up at him with a dazed expression, your eyes filled with desire as his thumb gently traces your bottom lip, catching the trail of saliva that dripped down your chin. Just his touch alone ignites your entire body like a Christmas tree. This man is dangerous; he may just be the death of you. It's a fact now, one you can't deny. "Why did you stop me?" Your voice comes out slightly hoarse from your activities below.

“You're too eager, love. Don't worry, I plan on being here all night.” He grins widely, enjoying your stunned reaction. Before you can defend yourself, he pushes himself back into your mouth, silencing any protests. You comply, closing your eyes and following his lead, savoring every moment with the man above you. Your head moves slowly, accommodating for his size as it stretches your throat beyond its limits. The sounds of his moans only urge you on further; you want to hear more. More of his gasps and groans that leave his chapped lips. Lost in the moment, you suddenly realize that his entire length is now down your throat. Your face buried in his pubic hair, and the manly smell of him has you dripping onto the floor beneath you. Simon was completely captivated. Although he had been with many people before, men and women, none of them could compare to the woman currently on her knees in front of him. His moans escaped him in a primal, guttural cry that only grew louder with each suckle of your lips. Your mouth felt like heaven to him, causing his eyes to roll back in pleasure. He couldn't help but grip your head tightly as he began to thrust into your mouth, the sound of your gags only fueling his desire further. "Yes… Come on, sweetheart. I'm almost there," he groaned out, feeling his legs tremble.

The force of his thrusts and the taste of his precum are overwhelming. Your mind goes numb as he takes full control, completely dominating your tiny mouth. Your jaw aches and tears well up in the corners of your eyes as his cock hits the back of your throat again. Suddenly, without warning, his release is imminent. "Shit… fucking perfect," Simon's voice is deep with desire but not as thick as the rush of liquid that fills your mouth. His cum has a sweet taste with a hint of salt, almost overpowering at first, but you manage to swallow it all down.

With a smirk, Simon slowly removes his cock from your swollen lips, taking in the sight of your flushed and aroused face. He reaches down and helps you to stand up, his eyes fixed on you. Your mind is still reeling from what just happened as you look at him. "I should go clean up," you murmur, starting to pull away. But he pulls you back in, his lips crashing onto yours. Simon doesn't care if you taste him on your lips or if you find it gross. Teeth clash and tongues collide as the heat builds. By the end, you're breathless and unable to speak. He asks, "Where's your bedroom?"

In a blur, you find yourself back in your bedroom, lying on your back with Simon hovering over you. He carefully inserts two fingers inside you, marveling at how easily you accommodate him. It won't be long before he replaces his fingers with something much larger. It has only been a few minutes since he entered your room, and he wastes no time getting to business. Your soft whimpers turn into loud moans that mix with his low murmurs as he maintains his rhythm, keenly observing your responses and adjusting accordingly. His heart pounds in his chest, and his own arousal throbs against his thigh. "Nice room you have here," he teases, taking a moment to look around at the colorful décor which is clearly your personal touch.

Your eyebrows furrow in confusion as you let out a whiny gasp. "You can't be serious right now," you say, disbelief evident in your tone. But he just smirks at you, clearly not taking your words seriously.

Simon lets out a low chuckle as he leans in and captures your lips in another kiss, effectively silencing you. "Hmm, deadly," he murmurs against your mouth.

Control. Control was the only thing that held him back as he expertly pushed you closer and closer to that second orgasm, that edge, loving the uncontrollable whimpers that slipped out of you lips.

As he caresses a tender area inside of you, your lips part involuntarily and his name escapes in a pure moan. He continues with steady, rhythmic motions, and the squelching sound of his fingers only adds to the erotic atmosphere. The wet slurping sounds fill your ears and drown out any other noise.

Before you could even process what was happening, a sudden tightness consumed your stomach and sent waves of ecstasy coursing through your body. Your core tenses around his fingers as another orgasm crashes over you, leaving your vision hazy and your skin tingling. You took a moment to catch your breath, throwing an arm over your face as the cool sheets of your blanket helped to soothe your heated body.

Simon pulled his sticky fingers out and surveyed the mess he had made. He couldn't help but feel proud of himself as he tentatively licked them clean, savoring the delectable sweetness of you. Slowly undressing himself, he kept his eyes locked on you the entire time, taking in the rise and fall of your chest and the glistening sweat on your skin. His hands shook slightly as he removed his shirt over his head.

The sound of rustling fabric catches your attention, and you look up to see Simon standing there completely naked. He was a work of art, his body strong and defined with the marks of hard work and struggles. Every inch of him was pure muscle, from his chiseled chest down to his toned abdomen. Scars decorated his chest, each one telling a story you couldn't even begin to imagine. His masculinity was on full display, and it was enough to make any woman feel weak in the knees. You were no exception.

With wide eyes and an open mouth, you could only manage a hoarse whisper - "Sweet Jesus." The sound of your voice drew a hearty laugh from him, his deep chuckle filling the air around you.

"I can't guarantee it won't hurt, love," he said with a sly smile, pleased with the sight of his erect manhood looming over you. The power and dominance emanating from him was palpable, and your heart raced with a mix of fear and excitement. His words filled you with a sense of anticipation, unsure of what was to come. But the raw desire in his eyes told you everything you needed to know.

A sharp, searing pain surged through your body, causing your back to arch. Your mouth dropped open, a mixture of pleasure and agony escaping in a silent cry. Your eyes flew open, tears welling up at the corners. The sensation of his erection entering you was almost too much to handle. Another intense orgasm washed over you, tightening your muscles around him and drawing out everything he had to offer. You were wetter than ever, coating his shaft with your juices as you came.

Simon let out a low growl as your third orgasm rocked through you, your walls tightening around him. The sight of his member disappearing into your core, the sensation of your body quivering beneath him, the sound of your moans—all of it drove him wild. "Another one?" he asked, amazed by how sensitive you were compared to others.

Simon groaned deeply as he felt your walls constrict, his throbbing member fully engulfed in the wet heat of your pussy. The intensity of it all was almost unbearable, causing him to clench his jaw in an effort to hold back his release. He watched you with wide eyes, a mixture of pain and ecstasy etched on your face as he stretched you to your limits. It was a sight that would be forever ingrained in his memory - your body trembling beneath him as he filled you completely, filling every inch of you with his hard, pulsing cock.

You became too accustomed to his manhood. Far too accustomed. Probably, because he had already stretched you out so much that your body instinctively knew to relax and welcome him. Your soft cries evolve into moans as your head falls back onto the stack of pillows on your bed. Simon is a master at pleasuring your body, knowing precisely when to thrust and when to pull back, and always praising you whenever he hits that sweet spot that makes you cling to his arm for support. He knows every curve and crevice of your form better than you do, and it's both exhilarating and frightening.

He pulls out, his cock glistening with your juices, before slamming back in. The squelching sounds of your wet pussy taking his cock, the sight of you writhing beneath him, the feel of your tight warmth—it was all too much to bear. He wanted to fuck you until you couldn't walk, until you were a whimpering, shaking mess under him until you were begging for him. Simon loved seeing the way your eyes looked up at him, all pliant and already fucked out. You were better than any toy, any woman or man, he’s ever recorded with. Maybe, just maybe, if that pretty little brain of yours was working after this he’d ask to see you again.

Simon could feel another orgasm building within you, your pussy clenching around his cock as he slammed into you. He was on the brink of his own release, his balls tightening as he neared his climax. You're such a good girl, taking me so eagerly. Can you handle a little more?" He whispered, his voice heavy with lust.

As his words reach your ears, your cloudy eyes clear up. The feeling of his cock thrusting deep inside leaves you disoriented but able to hear him clearly. His praise makes you involuntarily grasp around him. You can sense the effort it takes for him to hold back, though he doesn't say anything about it. It takes a moment for you to realize why - there's no condom.

Breathless gasps escape your lips as euphoria pulses through your body. You looked up at him, meeting his confused gaze before speaking again. "I-I'm on the pill," you managed to say, the words mingling with your moans. His brows furrowed in confusion, but you reassured him with a seductive glint in your eye. "It's okay…to cum inside."

With one last powerful thrust, he finds his confirmation and releases himself deep inside of you. As his cock throbs, he continues to fill you with his hot cum. Your body tightens and releases around him, drawing out your own orgasm as you collapse against him. Gazing up at him through hazy eyes, you notice for the first time that he seems completely spent. Simon slows down, trying to catch his breath and regain his composure. Yet, he remains buried deep inside you, the warmth and tightness of your pussy reminding him of what just took place. He then picks up pace again, renewed energy coursing through his body as he continues.

"Simon?" Your body resists, but he persists. There's that tingling sensation again. Without speaking, he leans in and softly kisses your lips, silencing you. He must have noticed how starved you were for touch, as each time he kisses you, you go quiet and still. "Just a little longer, love." he pleads for once. This isn't an order, but a genuine request for more. And how could you deny him, when he clearly needs it?

An entire hour had passed, and the two of you were still going at it with no signs of stopping. Simon instructed you to switch positions, and now you lay on your side, one leg draped over his shoulder as he continued to thrust into you unrelentingly. Every muscle in your body pulsed as he penetrated deeper each time, reaching a place that no other man had ever reached before.

The sound of the old bed frame creaking filled the air as your bodies rhythmically moved up and down. His movements were powerful, and every time he pushed inside you, your leg would automatically lift up to deepen the impact. Your arousal was evident as your slick walls eagerly welcomed him, trembling uncontrollably when his tip hit that delicate spot inside. You couldn't contain your moans any longer; Simon made you feel too good and he knew it. He gave you everything you needed and more, completely abandoning caution in the heat of the moment.

KNOCK KNOCK KNOCK

Your moaning abruptly stops when a loud noise startles you, and the knocking on the wall next to you snaps you out of your lustful haze. Your neighbor has finally had enough of hearing you say the same guy's name over and over again.

"Shut up! Some of us have things to do!"

You feel a rush of embarrassment and shock as you feel your face flush, expecting Simon to stop. But he doesn't; in fact, He somehow pushes himself even harder than before

Simon couldn't care less about your neighbor; you were all he needed. You had given him an hour of pure satisfaction, not just underneath him but on top of him as well. Your neighbor could go to hell because Simon was already in heaven with you. You bit down on your pillow, trying to contain any moans that threatened to escape your lips. It was a struggle to stay quiet when Simon moved his hips so sensually against yours. Your vision began to blur as your walls eagerly pulled his manhood back inside, each thrust accompanied by his praises.

"Simon, gotta quiet…" You whispered to him and trying your best to keep quiet. You were completely spent, stretched to the limit by his skilled cock. No other man would ever be able to fill you so fully or even fit after experiencing Simon's prowess.

"Who says?" Simon's voice was deep, teasing, and seductive as he watched you while thrusting and grinding against you. He was impressed that you could still speak coherently while being pleasured by him like never before. He didn't care who heard you; anyone listening would know exactly who he was - the one giving you the best fuck of your life. This only fueled him to adjust his grip on you, lifting you higher against him so he could penetrate deeper and touch every nerve in your body with each thrust.

That's all it took, your mind was completely consumed by him, unable to do anything but moan endlessly from the passionate experience. You exploded around him, covering his cock in a frothy white mess as your mixed juices flowed out of you. Your hips were connected by thick tethers of cum, evidence of just how full and satisfied you were after being thoroughly fucked by Simon.

Simon pulled out slowly, admiring the trails of cum connecting the two of you. He wanted more, but seeing the tired look in your eyes weakened him. Another loud knock on the wall broke through the moment, causing him to roll his eyes.

Looking back down at you, he noticed that you had fallen asleep. It seemed like he may have gone a little too far. Letting out an affectionate sigh, he gently patted your thigh before getting up and moving around your room.

He went into your bathroom to grab a washcloth and wet it before returning to carefully clean you up. The warm cloth stirred you awake and you murmured in response. "Mmm…?" Simon stated simply, "Just cleaning you up, pet." He made sure to leave no trace of the mess you both had made on your body.

What a man he is. You watch his every move until he pulls away, but then reach out to stop him, pulling him into bed with you. "Stay."

Simon raises an eyebrow and for the first time tonight, he's about to protest until you suddenly kiss him, silencing any words he had planned to say. "Well, since you asked so nicely."

Together, you lay next to each other in bed, still tingling from the sex. His arm instinctively wraps around your waist and without saying a word, he pulls you close, letting your head rest against his warm chest as you listen to his heartbeat. Together, you sit in silence for a while until finally, the question that has been on your mind since he you met him slips out. "So, are you GD?"

Simon's eyes widen in shock before he quickly tries to play it cool by trailing his fingers teasingly down your spine. "Why? Are you a fan?

He causes you to shiver as you hum in response, rolling your eyes playfully. This guy, he's full of jokes, isn't he? "I don't know... I think I'm more than a fan at this point."

♡! I tried to make this one really long because It's been literally TWO MONTHS. I'm so sorry. I had planned to come back in April after school died down but I ended up getting nerve damage in my dominant hand and was left unable to type. I hope this makes up for it :c!!

˚ ✦ . Taglist (People who commented): @forgotten-lego-piece @theirkenfiles @gluttonybiscuits @urbimom @blackhawkfanatic @mimidonottouch @madamemelancholysstuff

#simon riley x reader #simon ghost riley #simon ghost x reader #simon ghost smut #simon riley #simon ghost x you #simon riley x you #cod x reader #call of duty #simon ghost riley x you #ghost x you #simon ghost riley x reader #simon ghost riley smut #call of duty smut

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