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holllandtrash · 10 months

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fragile line | daniel ricciardo

pairing: daniel ricciardo x driver!reader

You and I walk a fragile line I have known it all this time But I never thought I'd live to see it break

what happens when the driver daniel falls in love with, ends up being the one who brings his career to a screeching halt? word count: 7.7k (im so sorry) warnings/tags: fluff-ish, plot with implied/very little smut, angst, mclaren danny, zak brown (gross), some incorrect f2 stats but whatever, time jumps, really just a lot of angst, its a rollercoaster

“What do you know?”

“What do you know?” Daniel repeated the question back to you, the emphasis making it clear as day that you both carried the same career-altering information.

His signature grin and comforting optimism were nowhere to be seen. Instead, Daniel’s expression could be described in a variety of ways. Solemn, disappointed, hurt.

“What was I supposed to do?” You asked, going straight to the defensive. You couldn’t be helpful in this scenario, you just needed to explain yourself. He wouldn’t understand it from your perspective, but you had to try.

“Not take the seat,” he offered a solution, as if it was that simple. “My god, I mean, they’re cutting my contract early, Y/N. For you.”

“For the sake of the team,” you corrected. You had no say in this. McLaren had plenty of driver options for the 2023 season. There were rumours of Daniel’s contract coming to an end a year early anyway, everyone heard them, everyone ignored them. The only thing that remained uncertain for a while was who would replace him should the rumours be true.

You.

“You don’t even like McLaren.” You told him, voice raising a little as if that helped get the point across. “You’ve struggled with this team since day one.”

“That doesn’t mean I want to stop racing.”

“McLaren is not the team for you and you know this.”

Daniel scoffed, eyebrows twitching, “Did Zak tell you to say that?”

It was a rhetorical question, but Daniel noticed the way your bottom lip quivered. He caught the way your eyes dropped from his, even just for a split second. There was something unspoken between you, something that weighed on your mind and Daniel stepped forward, wanting to know what exactly it was.

“Zak-” you started, reluctant to even say this. “-he doesn’t know I’m here. I’m not supposed to be here. I’m not supposed to talk to you or anyone about it, not until your announcement comes out.”

Here meaning Daniel’s flat in Monaco. The place you spent more nights at than your own. You played it off by saying his view was better but that was such a bullshit answer. Daniel’s flat always felt more like home than yours ever did.

You had formally met the Australian driver a few years ago, but god did time fly. It was at a race in Monza. You could pretend you didn’t know the date but of course you did, you had it memorised. September 3rd, 2020. There was no way you could forget the day your life changed for the better.

Or possibly, for the worse. It was up in the air at this point.

You were new to the Formula 2 series. The only female driver on the grid as you raced with Prema alongside Mick Schumacher. F3 proved to be quite a successful stint for you and you had your eyes set on the coveted Formula 1 series. You wanted to be in the big leagues.

Daniel saw that. He saw how determined you were to not only make waves in Motorsport, but to make something of yourself. You trained just as hard, if not harder than the other drivers in the junior series and Daniel had seen that for a while. He was often surprised to see you at the hotel gym, already working up a sweat when he walked in at a little after 6am. He would be even more surprised when he saw you there in the evening when other drivers went and called it a night or even went and celebrated.

Your race weekends were the same as F1 weekends, but you just had limited ones. It was a shorter season, less intense, but whenever you were there. Daniel saw you. He saw you and he paid attention. He even rooted for you, very publicly as well whenever he could, despite the two of you never having exchanged a word.

The first time you heard about Daniel cheering you on was after the Monaco race, quite early on into your first season. You qualified 7th, not ideal for a track like Monaco where the opportunities to overtake were far and few between, but somehow you did it. And then you did it again. And you could say it was luck but it was really smart strategy and an insane amount of driver skill that had you finishing fifth. In Monaco.

Those were Daniel’s words. He was asked pre-race if he watched the F2 run and he said of course. He said he “wouldn’t have missed it for the world,” wanting to see what you could do this weekend.

“It’s not luck, she’s incredibly talented,” Daniel had told the Sky Sports reporter. “She’s doing big things in the series, and I’m rooting for her. Truly. It’s rare a driver comes around with such raw natural talent, where you look at them and you know racing’s just in their blood, but it’s in hers. I would love to see her in Formula 1 one day.”

You watched that interview clip about twenty times. Daniel Ricciardo, the Daniel Ricciardo who had won Monaco a few years back, was complimenting you. He was rooting for you.

It wasn’t until Monza, nearing the end of your season that he finally approached you.

“I want to work with you,” Daniel said, straight to the point. You were in the middle of stretching in the hotel's fitness centre. It was only Thursday, the race weekend itself had barely started but Daniel knew he’d find you in there.

You pulled your airpods out and looked up at him in the mirror, “You what?”

“I want to work with you,” Daniel repeated, this time sitting down on the floor next to you. He kept your stare in the reflection. “I’m not a trainer by any means, but I want to work with you. I want to see you in Formula 1.”

You were flattered, honoured really, but you didn’t know what that entailed. “Work with me how?”

“Well, regular fitness training for starters,” he said. “But managing, really. I want to help you with everything that it takes to move up. Media training, mental preparedness, finding sponsors, getting you in touch with the right people. Let me help you, Y/N.”

You weren’t sure what brought this on. Part of you was convinced it was because he knew this would look good on his behalf. If you did make it to Formula 1 and Daniel’s name was attached to yours, he’d look like a genius. A hero. He would be known as the first person from F1 to publicly support you.

But that wasn’t what it was at all. When you agreed and accepted his help, you soon came to learn that Daniel didn’t want to be in your spotlight at all. He found the opportunities that you needed and then stepped back. He didn’t mention to the media at all that he was helping you, he didn’t see a need to. He saw your potential and he truly wanted to help you make something off.

So there he was during the off season, meeting you in London where you resided. He trained with you, set you up with the right people, did weekly check-ins, he really was like a sort of manager.

He was there during pre-season testing the following year, literally. He stood in the Prema garage like he was just another member of the team. No one really questioned it, not when you said he was acting as a mentor to you. Everyone loved Daniel’s presence there and he was told he was welcome whenever.

He was there during race weekends whenever he could find time in his own busy schedule. He was never there during the actual race, needing that time to prepare for his own, but he always watched from his drivers room or had someone in his ear updating where you were and what was happening.

He was there in Silverstone, when you crashed during Saturday's Sprint Race.

It was one of the last sessions of the day, Daniel had already finished qualifying and he was standing in the back of your garage, arms crossed over his chest, eyes glued to the screen.

He was the first voice you heard when you spun, losing the breaks in mere seconds and all you could do was brace yourself for the impact of the barriers.

“Tell me you’re okay.” Daniel’s voice came through your radio. Not your engineer, not your team principal. Daniel. “Say something, sweets, tell me you're okay.”

Sweets, he called you. But only ever in private, or in front of close friends. What started as a joke when you complained about him not having any sweets in his flat the first time you visited in Monaco, stuck.

But everyone had access to the team radios. It could be heard by other engineers, other teams, fans even and those watching at home should F1TV choose to broadcast it.

Of course they did. They aired the exchange for everyone to hear and it spread like wildfire. It was all anyone on social media could talk about.

“Say something, sweets. Tell me you’re okay.”

“I’m okay,” you sputtered out, hands shaking as you unclenched them. It was an instinct to pull them off the steering wheel and tuck your arms to your chest, physically bracing where you could.

“Good,” Daniel breathed out a very obvious sigh of relief. “Good.” He paused, and then with a quiet chuckle added, “What the fuck was that then?”

You laughed in response, needing the humour at such a traumatic time. You had crashed before, but this was a bad one. You didn’t even need to step out of the vehicle to know you were lucky to not feel any immediate injuries, but there was a ringing in your ear and the adrenaline was preventing you from really understanding the damage your body had sustained.

It wouldn’t have helped, though, to have gotten an earful, not like it was your fault anyway. It also wouldn’t have helped if you were asked again and again if you were okay. The more people asked, the more stressed you would grow. Daniel knew you needed a bit of lightheartedness at this time.

“No brakes, Danny,” you answered through a soft laugh.

“That just sounds like an excuse to me,” he muttered, the sarcasm evident even through the crackling radio.

“Are you going to continue to question my driving abilities or are you going to send medical out here to help me?”

That whole interaction went viral. From the radio message, to the clips of Daniel accompanying you to the medical centre, to the photos of the two of you smiling in the paddock despite the bruising on your body, the concussion you were diagnosed with and the instruction from the doctor that you were not stable enough to race on Sunday.

Which sucked, to put it plainly. But you were with Daniel. He made the situation bearable. With his arm around your shoulder, he walked you to the car at the end of the day, having waited with you the whole time.

People speculated, of course. Questions were asked.

Why was Daniel Ricciardo paying such close attention to you? Why did he get over the radio when he crashed? Why did it sound so flirty? Had he been in your garages the whole time and no one noticed? Was he a mentor? A friend? More?

You had put out a statement when you got to the hotel, thanking everyone for the kind words and well wishes. You shared that you would not be driving on Sunday and you also shared that you were thankful for the support of Daniel Ricciardo, your mentor, who reminded you that even the best of the best crash out sometimes.

Mentor, you publicly called him That’s what he was, right? Or trainer. Or Manager. Or friend, really. There were a lot of words to describe his relationship to you.

People online didn’t believe it. They thought there was more because, who looks at each other like that if they’re not fucking?

But you weren’t. Honest to god, that line with Daniel was never crossed. You never even considered it. Always content with his companionship and his advice, you didn’t want anything physical or romantic.

At least, you thought you didn’t.

Daniel dragged you into his room instead of letting you go up to yours because you were under strict instructions to not be left alone for the next twelve hours should the concussion worsen.

“I’m glad you’re okay,” he said, handing you a glass of water. “I know I joked over the radio, but I was worried. It wasn’t a pretty crash.”

“Are any crashes pretty?”

He sat down next to you, closer than normal considering when he rested his arm over the back of the couch, his fingers were within the distance needed to play with the strands of your hair.

He sucked in a breath through his teeth, “I guess it depends on the driver. I make the crashes pretty.”

The comedic gasp you let out as you clenched your chest had him laughing.

“Daniel Ricciardo, are you calling me ugly?”

“Don’t twist my words!” He exclaimed, eyes squinting as his smile widened. “I said I was pretty.”

You hummed, “You pretty much said I made the crush ugly.”

“I didn’t say you were ugly,” Daniel playfully tugged on a strand of your hair. “You’re not- I mean, you-”

And then the humour faded. He met your eyes, his hand fell to your shoulder. He was still smiling but it was the sort of gentle smile one wears when they figure out the answer to a question that had been eating at them for a while.

Something clicked for Daniel. At this very moment.

He wasn’t going to let it escape him.

“Pretty doesn’t do you justice,” Daniel told you, voice lowering. “You’re breaktaking, Y/N. On the racetrack, at home, at events, you put everyone around you to shame. And it’s not- it isn’t just your appearance, it’s you. Everything about you. Your heart, your charisma, the way your eyes light up when you smile but only if you’re talking to people you like,” he chuckled, having experienced it first hand and having seen the way you don’t look nearly as pleased when someone you dislike approaches you.

You were speechless, though. Frozen where you sat as this admission came out of seemingly nowhere.

And Daniel was attractive, that was an undeniable fact, he was everything anyone could ever want in a man. But you never allowed yourself to look at him the way other people would. He was your trainer, manager, mentor, friend.

You had no words to explain the way he was staring at you now. Nor could you explain why it made you feel more alive than driving a racecar at inhumane speeds ever could.

Daniel took another breath, eyes never leaving yours. “You are unlike anyone I have ever come across and I know, in my lifetime, I will never find someone who could ever compare to even a fraction of who you are.”

There was no way you could continue to be just friends after those words passed his lips.

You kissed him. You had to. It wasn’t like there was anything you could say that would match what he had already said, nor could you even find the words.

You kissed him and Daniel pulled you onto his laps, your legs moving to straddle either side of his hips. His hands roamed your body, sliding up the Prema shirt you still had on as your tongue roamed every possible inch of his mouth.

His hand gripped your waist, rolling you over top of him so you could feel in a matter of seconds how this conversation had now taken a turn. His cock started to harden, constricted by his pants, but you still felt it underneath you each time he shifted, each time you grinded against him.

When you reached for the hem of his shirt and pulled it off, Daniel leaned back, both of you taking that second to catch your breath and question if you were really going to do this.

“Is this a mistake?” You whispered, your thumb gently tracing over his lips. Your working relationship was perfect. This could ruin everything. You had fears, doubts, worries. One night could lead to dozens of complications.

But Daniel shook his head and all of those thoughts vanished.

“No,” he said, sounding so sure of himself with that one syllable. “I’ve made plenty of mistakes in my life but you are not one of them.”

That was the only validation you needed. You kissed him again, more lust, more passion, than before as Daniel stood up, carrying you towards the bed at the back of the room. He dropped you down on the edge of it, smiling at the squeal that escaped your lips.

Daniel wanted to worship you every way he could. He was gentle with you, with your body, as he dipped his head between your thighs, making you feel a wave of euphoria that no one had ever brought you too before.

It wasn’t until you were begging for more did Daniel realise he didn’t need to be gentle the entire night. He slid two fingers past your folds, lifting his head and hovering his body over yours, wanting to feel your desperate breaths hit his face as he rapidly thrusted his digits in and out of you, your walls clenching around him.

When he attached his lips to that spot on your neck, his teeth pressing against your skin, you saw stars. Daniel’s motions didn’t let up as you came around his fingers, loving the way your legs shook and how you dragged your hand through the hair on the back of his head.

He was cautious about doing anything else, knowing you were injured, he didn’t want to overstimulate you or cause any more pain.

But you needed him. You reached for the zipper of his pants and tugged it down, telling Daniel you wanted this, as if the way you looked up at him didn’t already make that perfectly clear.

He was careful when he entered you, patient. The tip of his cock slid past your folds slowly and he kissed your collarbone so gently you almost didn’t feel it as you adjusted to his size, quiet moans emitting from the back of your throat.

He had praised you before, but only ever at the race track, so there was something so familiar yet so foreign about the way he whispered against your skin. It lit a fire within you.

“You take me so well, sweets,” he fought back a groan as your walls tightened around him when you clenched your legs. “So good for me.”

It was safe to say the dynamic between you two changed after that night.

Daniel adored you already, admired you greatly for your achievements and growth in the sport. But now he fought with himself every weekend, knowing that he couldn’t touch you how he wanted. He couldn’t show you the attention he so desperately wanted. He couldn’t kiss you when you got that podium in Belgium, despite finding a way to sneak out of the pre-race duties for a second to run to the barrier to be there for you with the rest of the Prema team.

Whatever was going on between you, it was unlabelled and it was private. The rest of the world didn’t need to know you were sleeping with the man you looked up to, the one who helped you become a great athlete in such a short period of time.

People continued to speculate. You were private, sure, but you weren’t overly careful.

You were seen landing in Monaco over the summer. You were spotted hanging out with Daniel on plenty of occasions. Even though you kept your hands off of each other and refused to act like anything more than friends out in public, you were different when you returned after the break. You both were. Everyone noticed.

Daniel was, if it was even possible, happier. And you were less stressed it seemed. While you were still fighting a constant battle of being the only female in F2, it no longer seemed as heavy because the weight of it wasn’t just on your shoulders anymore. Daniel was there too.

It wasn’t just physical, what you had. The emotional connection you shared was undeniable. Daniel was always there for you, and you, him. During the bad days, the good ones, and everyday in between.

When you finished the season 5th in the drivers championship, the only person you wanted to celebrate with was Daniel. He was so proud of you. He watched you go from finishing 13th last year to 5th. He played a huge part in that, but when you tried to tell him that, he only brushed it off, saying that it was all you, he was just happy to be there for the ride.

It was his idea for you to test drive for McLaren at the end of the year, too. ‘We’ll get you in a real F1 car’ he said. And you didn’t question it when the offer was brought forward to participate in a few practice sessions. It was exhilarating and terrifying and you cried tears of joy when you stepped out of his car because this was what you dreamed of. Driving a Formula 1 car.

Now you just needed a permanent seat and Daniel wanted that for you too. He was your biggest supporter, and you only grew closer as the days went on.

You met his family over the holidays. He spent New Years Eve in London with you.

When the season started again, he spent more time with you and Prema. When there were no scheduled F2 races during F1 weekends, you accompanied him in the McLaren garage.

At this point, quite a few people knew you were together, or at least they assumed it.

You didn’t post about it, you didn’t want to, you didn’t need to. Daniel didn’t need to show you off, nor did you feel obligated to let everyone know you were with him. What you had was private, it was sacred, it was only for the two of you.

But of course whenever you had a good performance, whether it be from a practice session, qualifying or a race, he’d share your celebration picture to his Instagram story.

“Would you ever do a shoey?” Daniel asked you one Tuesday night, zooming in on a photo of you, more specifically on the smile on your face as you clenched your second place trophy from Imola on Sunday.

You rolled your eyes but the smile was impossible to hide as he came up behind you and wrapped his arms around your waist, tugging you into his chest.

“Next time you win,” Daniel suggested with a laugh. “I expect a shoey.”

“I’m not Australian.”

“You’re dating one, sweets.”

You never actually discussed what you were. The term boyfriend-girlfriend seemed so childish. Dating was, in a sense, accurate, but again, there were no labels. He had your heart, you had his. That was the only thing that mattered.

“The world doesn’t know that,” you pointed out.

“They kind of do,” Daniel kissed your cheek, giving your side a squeeze as he stepped aside to help you prepare dinner.

You weren’t even sure when you fell into such a domestic lifestyle but there you were, practically moved into Daniel’s place in Monaco at this point and he was at your side, chopping carrots for the salad while you prepared the chicken breasts.

“A shoey would confirm it,” you glanced up at him, but the smile on his face told you he wasn’t completely against the idea.

Daniel stepped behind you, fingers playfully pinching your waist, “Just think about it. If you don’t want to, you don’t have to. I just reckon it would be entertaining for everyone.”

He didn’t bring it up again, not even when you got third in Spain and didn’t do it. It was your first time getting a back to back podium since you started racing and of course it was something to celebrate, but the idea of a shoey made your stomach churn. You weren’t sure if you were ready for the world to know about your commitment to Daniel.

You walked a thin line, being with him. And while you enjoyed every possible minute spent with him, you knew the world was cruel. The second you officially went public, you’d lose respect in the motorsport industry.

The only female F2 driver dating an F1 driver? How scandalous.

Despite the rumours, the correct rumours, you were still in a bubble with him. You could pretend you were just friends, close friends. The tabloids had nothing to go off except your polite interactions and maybe a little too friendly smiles and so what if you were there in the McLaren garage cheering him on?

You were his biggest supporter and he was yours.

But it didn’t help that while your performance was improving, his was rapidly declining. While you had less races than his, already your stats were better. You qualified in the top 5 for the first three races. You finished second in Imola, third in Spain, already better than how you started the season last year.

Monaco was next. Daniel loved Monaco, you both did. Everyone did, it was the pinnacle of Formula 1.

It was unfortunate that your weekends ended up so drastically different.

Daniel qualified 14th and then finished 13th. He wasn’t proud of it, but he did his best to hide his disappointment for you, especially since you were starting on the front row, P2, for the feature race.

And somehow, you won.

After trailing behind Drugovich for the majority of the race, you were starting to believe you would finish behind him too. And you probably would have, had there not been a safety car almost six laps after he boxed for fresh tyres, giving you the advantage of newer tyres and less wasted time. It was a strategy your team was banking on, waiting for a safety car. It was risky, but it paid off. Overtaking was nearly impossible with Formula 1 cars, but you had a better chance in your series and somehow, by the grace of god, you did it. You pulled ahead and swiped the lead from Felipe.

You made history that weekend. The first female F2 driver to not only podium, but to win at Monaco. You gripped that first place trophy so tight your hand turned red.

Usually, F2 didn’t draw nearly as big of a crowd, but this weekend was different. Everyone was a fan of the series after that performance, a fan of you. You saw people in the crowd wearing Red Bull gear, Ferrari merch, McLaren hats, and they were all applauding you.

Of course, you were blown away by the support. Hearing your national anthem play was an incredible sound. There were tears in your eyes and your entire body was trembling, yet somehow you managed to find Daniel. Right in front, with your team.

He was so proud of you.

Despite his shitty qualifying, despite knowing he had such a low shot at earning points at his race that was in just under an hour, he was there for you. You couldn’t tell if he was cheering the loudest, or if you were just so prone to finding him in a crowd that you couldn’t process anything or anyone else.

You weren’t sure what came over you, but once you grabbed the champagne bottle, you found yourself taking your shoe off as well. As Felipe and Théo started spraying their bottles in celebration, you poured the bubbly liquid into the sole of your racing shoe and lifted it up to your lips, pointing directly at Daniel who couldn’t believe what he was watching.

It was rancid, as you figured it would. It was champagne out of a sweaty shoe, you knew it wouldn’t taste good, but it was a shoey and it was for Daniel. Felipe patted your back, laughing at your reaction and muttering something about how Daniel would get a kick out of that.

He was right, but Daniel wasn’t the only one who found it entertaining.

Your name was once again trending following the Monaco Grand Prix. Not Checo’s, even though he won the F1 race. Your name.

Not that you really cared that night. How could you care about what the internet was saying when the man you were with told you that he loved you for the first time? Nothing online mattered, not when Daniel took your face in his hands and told you he was madly in love with you. He was proud, he was happy, he was in love.

And you knew you loved him too. You had known this for a while. Monaco was just the perfect time to say it.

After going about as public as you could without physically coming out and saying you were dating the Australian driver, Monaco was the perfect place to tell him you loved him. You were on cloud 9, you were making history, you were in love.

You continued to deny, or at least ignore, the rumours that followed, still. You both did. You were in love with each other, not the whole world. Things would get complicated if you announced you were dating. You were vying for a Formula 1 seat and you wanted it without Daniels’ influence.

But at the following race in Baku you were asked similar questions.

“Your shoey last week, did that have anything to do with Daniel Ricciardo being there to cheer you on? You two have gotten pretty close in the last few months, he’s one of your mentors, isn’t he?”

You shifted your weight to one leg, wondering what the fuck kind of post-qualifying question that was. You had just completed three back to back podiums, you were on a hot streak now, starting third at this next race and the reporter only cared about what happened at the podium celebration last weekend.

“Sorry, did you have a question about this week's race?” You asked, and when he stammered over his words, you just nodded and walked away, a tight smile on your face.

Daniel’s conversation went a bit differently.

“Y/N’s shoey last week, we all saw it. Was that your influence?”

“Yeah I never thought she’d actually do it, it was sweet,” Daniel laughed. “It was great though, I happily pass the tradition onto her.”

“She’s really come along in Formula 2 since she started back in 2020, do you think she has what it takes to be Formula 1’s first full-time female driver?”

“Absolutely,” there wasn’t a shred of doubt or hesitation. He was happy to talk about you, to explain to the rest of the world why you were up and coming and should be taken seriously as a real contender for a Formula 1 seat. He probably would have continued on if his PR rep hadn’t pulled him away, reminding him of other duties.

The next few races were similar to your first ones. A couple more podiums, some outstanding qualifying sessions, more history being made. Your phone was blowing up weekly, everybody wanted to talk to you now and you knew Daniel had something to do with it. Him constantly sharing the faith he had in you did wonders for your reputation.

You might have been on top of the world, but you were well aware you were alone up there.

Daniels’ performances were anything but newsworthy. He had gotten a few points in Austria and France, but nothing to be extremely proud of, especially when he compared his 9th place finish at the Red Bull Ring to your first place podium, making it your second one this season.

He never let his disappointment for himself and McLaren stand in the way of your achievements. In fact, you didn’t often speak about the races when you were together. You were aware Daniel was having issues with the team, with Zak, with the car, but he didn’t want to weigh you down with his own problems, even though you assured him time and time again you could handle it.

Really, if Daniel had come to you with his struggles, you would have thought twice when Zak Brown approached you prior to the Hungarian Grand Prix. You probably would have slammed the door to your drivers room in his face if you knew how Daniel was being treated at McLaren.

But Daniel held his cards close to his chest while Zak laid his all out on the table.

“If a spot opened up for you,” he said, after spending the last ten minutes talking about the rich history of the team and praising your accolades. “Would you consider it?”

It wasn’t an official contract, just the start of a conversation that could lead to one.

Of course you thought of Daniel. And Lando, having grown close with him simply through Daniel.

“For 2024?” You asked, knowing both of them were set to continue driving through to at least the end of 2023.

“No,” Zak shook his head. You didn’t like how harsh his tone had turned, having no remorse for what he was about to say. “Daniel’s contract would be ending early.”

You leaned back in your chair, fingers tapping the table as you tried to recall Daniel ever telling you that he was leaving McLaren. “Is he- he wants out?”

“It’s mutual,” Zak assured you. “He knows we can’t give him the car he wants and unfortunately, he’s not delivering what we need. We had high hopes with Daniel, but the working relationship isn’t what any of us thought it would be.”

It’s mutual. Those two words was all it took to convince you that Zak Brown and Daniel had already had a conversation about this, about terminating the contract a year early.

It didn’t help that Zak brought up your test sessions in the McLaren from last year, pointing out that you had better times than Lando, even. He went on to praise what you were doing this year at Prema and said, multiple times, that you would be an asset to McLaren should you choose to go that route.

And who were you to turn that down?

A team principal of a Formula 1 team wanted to sign you. Was it unfortunate that it was Daniel’s seat? Yes, obviously this situation was less than ideal, but he wanted out. You were convinced he wanted out, that he was done with McLaren. A 45 minute conversation with Zak Brown convinced you of that.

You should have been wary when at the end of the conversation he said, “Don’t tell anyone about this, yet. You know how the public can be, let’s just keep this to ourselves for the meantime.”

“But I can talk to Dan, right?” You asked.

Zak knew you were dating Daniel, it was a little harder to hide that from his team than it was the rest of the world. Maybe that’s why hesitated before answering, knowing that keeping a secret, something as big as this, from a partner had the potential to cause chaos.

But he shook his head, “Between us, yeah?”

And you listened to him. You wanted that Formula 1 seat so of course you followed orders.

You desperately wanted to talk to Daniel about it, but you knew you couldn’t. And either he sensed that something was off, or he was dealing with his own problems again and wouldn’t share, you really couldn’t tell when the summer break started and things just seemed…different.

You didn’t go to Monaco for starters, even though Daniel invited you to. But there were so many meetings with Zak and the board at McLaren that it made more sense for you to stay in London for the start of the break.

Daniel didn’t call as often and you wanted to give him space, knowing that this break was probably needed for him. You expected he was out with friends, letting loose, getting the weight of a horrible season off his back even if just temporarily.

The plan was to go to Monaco for the last week and a half and then travel to Belgium together. You had to delay that plan, however, when Zak called you and said it was official.

The 2023 seat was yours.

You wanted to celebrate, with Daniel, but how could you celebrate with the person you were replacing?

It was strange that Daniel had said nothing to you about leaving the team during the summer break, especially since Zak had said time and time again they were on the same page, that Daniel was ready to leave. The only thing that crossed your mind was he was given strict instructions to not say anything to anyone either, at least until McLaren went public with the news.

But with it being official, with you having just signed on the dotted line, you were tired of keeping it to yourself. You may not have been able to share the news with anyone else, but you had a right to have a conversation with Daniel about it.

You didn’t know how he would react. Surely he’d be happy for you, right? You were getting a seat in Formula 1, something that both of you desperately wanted to happen. And again, you were under the impression the departure from McLaren was mutual. He would be happy that someone he loved was taking his seat, right?

Right?

You had to tell yourself that the entire ride over to his place. You unlocked the front door to his building and took the elevator up to the fourth level. You didn’t think to knock, knowing he never locked it when he was home so you pushed open the door and stepped in, your suitcase trailing behind you.

You were happy to see him. He was always a breath of fresh air, despite the odd distance between you, you still loved him. You always would. He muted whatever was playing on the screen and stood up from the couch when he heard you walk in.

Usually, Daniel would greet you with a kiss.

Usually, he’d be smiling so hard his jaw would be hurting.

Usually, he was happy to see you.

You left the suitcase by the door and met him halfway, only he stopped walking when there was about a foot of space between your bodies. To you, it felt like you were still miles apart.

“Do you have something you want to tell me?” He asked, arms crossed over his chest.

Your heart sank.

You had convinced yourself, Zak had convinced you, the whole back of house team had convinced you, that Daniel was aware of this upcoming change. That the termination was mutual. You taking his seat might have been a surprise, but it was never supposed to be a blindside.

“What do you know?” you asked.

“What do you know?” Daniel repeated the question back to you.

You were both fully aware of the exact same information. Daniel was leaving. You were taking his seat. Only, you had been informed this much earlier than he had.

“What was I supposed to do?”

“Not take the seat,” he scoffed. “My god, I mean, they’re cutting my contract early, Y/N. For you.”

“For the sake of the team,” you said and then added, “You don’t even like McLaren. You’ve struggled with this team since day one.”

“That doesn’t mean I want to stop racing.”

“McLaren is not the team for you and you know this.”

Daniel scoffed, eyebrows twitching, “Did Zak tell you to say that?”

“Zak-” you started, finding it difficult to hold his stare. This wasn’t the Daniel you knew. “-he doesn’t know I’m here. I’m not supposed to be here. I’m not supposed to talk to you or anyone about it, not until your announcement comes out.”

He rubbed his hands over his face, taking a few steps away from you. It hurt, watching as he tried to physically distance himself from you. Like being in too close of proximity would set him off.

“I struggled with the team, yes, but I’m not ready to give up racing. You have now left me without a seat.”

It was easy for Daniel to blame you, you were standing right in front of him. You were quite literally the driver set to replace him.

But the real villain was Zak, for not having opened up this line of communication earlier. For making you believe everyone was on the same page. It was Zak’s fault for rushing to end the contract with Daniel instead of putting in the effort to work with him. He saw the shiny new toy that was you, that Daniel helped create, and he wasn’t going to let someone else take it first.

Daniel wanted to blame himself too, but he wouldn’t let himself think about that until much later. He was the one who did everything he could to help you grow in this sport. He was the one who introduced you to Zak and the rest of the McLaren team. He was the one who got you in the car for the practice sessions, his car. Foreshadowing at its finest.

“You are unbelievable,” Daniel spoke quietly, heated with anger but his words were like ice as they sunk deep into you. “After everything I’ve done to help you for you to betray me like this, I just- I don’t think-”

You knew where this was going and you wanted to put a pin in it before he could finish any of his thoughts.

“Don’t finish that sentence, Daniel,” you whispered. “Please. Please, we can figure something out.”

“There’s nothing to figure out,” his mind was made up. “You took my seat.”

“Wouldn’t you rather it me than someone you don’t know? Someone you don’t trust?” You tried to turn this around, have him look at the positives, if there were any. “Daniel, everyone on the grid loves you, you’ll find a new team. One that helps you grow and get to where you want. McLaren isn’t that, we both know it.”

“I think you should go,” was his only response.

“If I hadn’t signed that contact, someone else would have,” you pointed out, grasping at straws here, painfully honest straws, but straws nonetheless. “Piastri, O’Ward…McLaren had options, Dan. Aren’t you at least happy for me that I out-qualified all of those guys?”

Daniel actually laughed, “You want me to be happy for you? Are you fucking kidding me?”

“Dan-”

“Leave.”

“I’m not leaving.”

“You need to,” he was stern. He was angry. He was done. With you, with the team, with everything he used to love and cherish. He was done.

You thought you knew Daniel. You thought you knew how this conversation would play out. You figured it would still be rocky, but god you now realised how naive you were to believe you could still make things work.

“I love you,” you told him, because what else could you say except remind him that you were so hopelessly in love with him, that he was all you would ever want in life.

Except, that wasn’t exactly true, was it?

You wanted a seat in Formula 1 too. You just never thought you’d have to sacrifice one dream for the other.

Daniel’s stare was cold. He only looked away for a second to nod his head towards the door behind you, “If you loved me, you wouldn’t have done this.”

You stepped forward, desperate at this point because how could he do this? How could he throw away what you had, over a seat?

Or was it you, who had ultimately thrown away what you had when you sat down with Zak Brown all those weeks ago?

It pained you to think about the strong possibility of that being the case.

“I’m sorry,” you whispered, because you were. You were sorry about how this turned out, how he was betrayed, how this was coming to an end. You grabbed hold of your suitcase and nodded, backing up towards the door, “I really am sorry, Dan.”

He didn’t believe you. Why would he? In his eyes, Formula 1 was more important to you than he was. A career decision that benefited you, but ruined him, mattered more than your relationship. It was a bold move, a cold move, one that you didn’t think would lead to this.

Neither of you could have predicted this. On September 3rd, 2020, when Daniel first said he wanted to work with you, neither of you thought it would end like this.

Just as you grabbed the handle of the door, Daniel opened his mouth, wanting to get the final word in. And you really wished he hadn’t because those final words destroyed you.

“I’ve made plenty of mistakes in my life, but I never thought you would turn out to be one of them.”

You said nothing. You walked out of that Monaco flat with your head low and your heart even lower. You couldn’t even be excited about the next season, or the remainder of this one where you had the potential to finish in the top three.

You weren't happy, you were empty, you were defeated. And painfully so, you were also still in love.

Despite what was said, you knew it would take a while to get over Daniel. He was your rock for so long, he was always there for you and even though he could disappear without so much as a second thought, your feelings couldn’t, the memories couldn’t. It would take a long time until you felt whole again.

You didn’t know it yet, but the decision to take that McLaren seat would haunt you as you moved forward in your career.

This was not going to be the last time you ever saw Daniel.

part 2 haunted

#daniel ricciardo x you #daniel ricciardo x reader #daniel ricciardo #daniel ricciardo one shot #danny ric #dr3 #f1 one shot #f1 fics #formula 1 x you #daniel ricciardo imagine #daniel ricciardo au

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literaila · 3 days

Note

i always think of this whenever i’m abt to sleep

imagine yuji and nobara going over to megumis house during summer break (it’s rlly gojos house cuz yk) and imagine reader sitting on the couch with baby gojo and theyre so shocked gojo has another child😭

“no, satoru, i already told you not to—“

“it doesn’t even make sense,” he’s saying, rolling his eyes like he’s the child here. “why am i supposed to drink water, but she can’t?”

“first of all, you don’t drink water even when i force it down your throat—“

“i am beyond biology—“

“and second of all, because she’s a baby.”

he pouts. “won’t she get thirsty?”

“you literally just gave her a bottle. you stole it from my hands.”

“because i’m bonding.”

even as you bicker, the two of you are staring down at the little baby, watching as her eyes flicker in sleep, her nose scrunching up like she wants you to squeeze her.

and even as you fight, the smile on your face matches satoru’s—adoring, mesmerized by this tiny little thing in his arms.

so mesmerized, in fact, that you don’t even notice when the front door opens. or when three teenagers—stomping, like teenagers do—trail into the house.

megumi walks into the kitchen to grab something, but both yuji and nobara stop when they notice you and satoru on the couch. neither of them says a thing as they listen to your hissing voices—quiet enough not to wake the baby.

megumi walks back into the room, sipping from a glass, and raises a brow at both of his “friends.” they’ve been here before, they know where his room is.

“uh, are we supposed to just ignore them?” nobara asks, giving megumi a weird look.

he looks over—obviously not having noticed this scene—and then rolls his eyes. “yes.”

he turns to walk to his room, mind on textbooks and avoiding his very annoying parents, when yuji grabs his arm.

“but, fushiguro,” the voice says, voice soft and somehow whining. “there’s a baby.”

“and?”

yuji is too busy staring at the bundle in satoru’s arms to answer, and he carefully tiptoes over to the couch, wide smile on his face.

already cooing, of course.

you look up, grinning. “oh, hi, yuji.”

yuji tilts his head, watching as satoru traces tiny circles on baby soft skin.

satoru looks up. “i’m not letting you hold her,” he tells the boy, “it’s still my turn.”

you sigh. “satoru—“

“oh, no, i don’t—i mean, i don’t even know how. i just wanted to…” yuji is staring at the child like she’s an alien, but it took all of three seconds for him to become just as mesmerized as the two of you. “is she… yours?”

yuji’s eyes widen, and he looks perturbed back at megumi. was he not even going to mention his baby sister—

“seriously, dude?” nobara says for the two of them, punching megumi’s arm. “what else are you keeping from us?”

yuji looks back to the two of you, satoru nodding vigorously.

you pull his hair. “no, she’s not ours. we’re just babysitting for a friend.”

satoru coughs and says something that sounds suspiciously like “for now,” under his breath.

you pull at his hair a little harder, grinning at him when he can’t push you away.

“she’s adorable.”

nobara nears the three—four?—of you as well, looking at the baby. “are you sure you can trust him with her?” she asks you, giving satoru a wary eye.

you laugh and satoru pouts.

“it’s just a baby,” megumi says, groaning from behind both of his friends. “what’s the big deal? we have to study.”

“she’s cute,” nobara tells him, “that’s the big deal.”

“don’t listen to him,” you whisper, “he was all over her before he left.”

yuji laughs back at him and nobara huffs.

megumi just rolls his eyes again. “are you two coming?”

you smile at the two of them, then back at megumi. really, he’s sweet. really. “if you’re still here when she wakes up again, you can feed her.”

yuji grins. “really?”

“sure.”

“um,” satoru cough, eyeing you, very disturbed. “that’s my job.”

“you need to share.”

“i’m not sharing my own child—“

“not ours,” you sing, leaning your head on his shoulder.

“but she could be. i recently learned how babies are made, and i think we could pull it off—“

you laugh and megumi groans again. “i’m leaving,” he says, turning and storming down the hall.

“i’ll come and tell you if she’s hungry,” you say to the other two, ruffing yuji’s hair.

“okay!”

nobara gives the baby one last look, and then she’s following megumi out of the room, yuji taking just a moment longer—frowning—but eventually following along.

“i’m serious, you know,” satoru whispers, resuming his circles on her unblemished face.

“yeah, i know.”

“why not?”

“because you’re still a child, and megumi’s just started school—“

“megumi wants a baby more than i do.”

you roll your eyes.

“we’d make a good baby,” satoru says to you, “even cuter than her.”

you sigh, moving even closer to him, your side pressed up against his. “yeah.”

“i’ll wait,” satoru says, “but i know you’re lying.”

“i’m not lying—“

“you almost started crying when she sneezed earlier—“

“no, i did not—“

#okay a little different than suggested #but reader is not giving into satoru immediately #especially with his track record of taking in any stray he finds #gojo x reader #gojo satoru #gojo satoru x reader #a typical family #gojo satoru x you #gojo satoru x y/n #gojo x you #satoru gojo x reader #jjk gojo #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jjk x reader #satoru gojo x you #jujutsu gojo #satoru gojo x y/n #jjk fanfic #satoru x reader

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rreids · 23 days

Text

PROGRESS • S. REID X READER

semi-specific spoilers for 2 x 15 and the aftermath (specifically 3 x 16), hurt-comfort, tiny bit of smut (a handjob), probably incorrect information (mention of arousal being different but similar to adrenaline, i have no idea if this is true and refuse to do research), mentions of marriage, ~1.5k

Spencer was strong. You knew that.

You’d been with him every stop of the way through rehabilitation: through the relapses; held his hand and kissed away his tears as he fought the urges and ideas that he was worthless; told him he was stronger than anything and more resilient and beautiful than anyone you’d ever known.

One of his personal choices in his journey to get clean made sex harder — he was trying to learn how to temper all desire and urges, filter through what he deemed wouldn’t hurt or threaten his sobriety before making any impulsive decisions.

You hadn’t minded, content with the soft kisses and tickle of his eyelashes and beard against your skin as he silently thanks you for your care.

You loved his beautiful mind that ran a million miles a minute far more than you loved the pleasure from his body, and you knew you’d wait forever if that’s what it took. You wouldn’t have even cared if it was off the table.

You just wanted Spencer.

It’d been a few months since he decided to get clean, and as much as seeing him sob and writhe as he convinced himself he wasn’t irredeemable for slipping up crushed you every time, you knew it wasn’t about you.

Today was a hard day for him.

“Spence, baby,” you whisper, wiping his tears as he tells you about a recent case — the victim used, and the amount of himself Spencer saw in her terrified him —, lip quivering. “You’re okay. You have that coin, right? The one John gave you?”

He nods, leaning into your palm. He presses a kiss to your wrist and closes his eyes.

“You’ll get there. But struggling is okay. You know that, don’t you?”

Shuddering sobs wrack his body, breaths catching in ways that twist your heart, and you know he’s trying his best to calm down. “But what if I can’t?”

“You will, Spence,” you promise. “It’s worth it. We both know it. And we both know you’re strong enough to make it through this and come out better on the other side,” you kiss his forehead. “Besides, I’m here right alongside you. I won’t ever leave,”

Spencer sobs again, breathing ragged.

“I promise.” You answer his silent question, and he nods.

“I love you,” Spencer whispers out, voice scratchy. “You know that?”

“Well, out of the two of us, I’m not the one with the eidetic memory…” you trail off playfully, just for a moment, not long enough to make him worry. “I could never forget, baby.”

“I miss you,”

“We live together,”

“Not like that,” Spencer sighs. “I miss touching you. Feeling you.”

“You can have me whenever you want,” you promise him, brushing his curls out of his eyes. He was due for a trim, but you thought it was cute. “I’m yours.”

Spencer sighs, pushing past your hands and dropping his head to your shoulder.

“We go at your pace.”

“And if I think I’m ready?”

“Then we do what you’re comfortable with, and if you tap out, we stop. Your pace.”

Spencer nods, almost determined. It’s cute, and you have to fight back a laugh.

You smile despite your efforts, and the first kiss is more you two grinning against each other than a kiss. He takes the lead and slowly deepens it, careful and awkward like the first time you two ever tried to do more than steal pecks and hold hands.

His muscles are tense under you as you ghost your hands to his shoulders, and you gently work them as you kiss him.

“Are you giving me a massage?” He asks, confused and a little breathless.

“If I have to.” You smile, kissing his nose. “Relax, sweetheart. The second you wanna stop, just tap me two times. Nothing you don’t want.”

“Am I that tense?” Spencer tries to focus on muscles and force them to relax, but he’s too tightly wound.

“Would it be better if I give a massage first?” You ask, leaning down and peppering kisses to the side of his neck down to his collarbone. “Let you chill and then I ask before anything progresses?”

Spencer looks down, cheeks burning, and nods.

You don’t comment. He’s embarrassed enough, and you’re just happy to see him opening back up.

Tobias had left scars beyond the dots — that look more like freckles than any lasting trauma now — on his elbow. Though you suppose that was Tobias’s way of saving him from the worse scars from Rafael and Charles. Semantics. None of it mattered when your pretty boy was aching and worried under you.

“Lay down,” you urge, “take off your shirt if you’re ready. I’ll get your lavender lotion,”

It’s his favorite, a gift from his mom. You don’t tell him that he used up the one she gave him, since you dutifully rebuy and refill sneakily enough he doesn’t notice the volume shifting.

When you come back from the bathroom, he’s shirtless, fingers locked together and bracing his head.

“Gonna sit right above your thighs, sweetheart. Lotion’ll be cold,” you warn, and wait until he nods.

Then you settle and gently work through cords and muscles, slowly, patiently, methodically, a whispered warning and praise with every big move or change in pressure.

He melts under you, soft moans falling from his lips as you release pain he didn’t even know he had.

“Okay?”

“Yeah,” Spencer breathes. “Can you… can you kiss me? Before we do anything,”

He’s curled in on himself a little, and you murmur an “of course” as he sits up and tugs the blanket over his chest. You know he’s never liked the bruises from field-work, but this is something more.

“You know I always find you pretty, right, Spence?” He tilts his head at you. “I don’t care about the ugly moments. You’re my pretty boy. You don’t have to hide anything.”

You stress that last word, and you see it click for him, and he slowly lets the blanket fall.

You kiss a bruise on his shoulder.

“Kiss me, Spencer,” you urge, and he smiles, leaning in and softly melding to you, fingers curling on your waist with practiced movements.

His body remembers, and it makes your heart flutter.

He sighs into your mouth, sweet and gentle. You can feel his pulse racing, his movements getting more excited and clumsy as he kisses down your neck.

“You’re so good, make me feel so, so good.”

Spencer smiles against your skin. “You make me feel good too.”

You know he means it more than physically, but that’s what he needs right now.

And you want to give it to him.

“Can we take your boxers off, Spence?”

He nods eagerly, and you carefully slide his pants off with them, avoiding another bruise on his hip from a tackle on the recent case.

“So pretty,”

And he is. Lean muscle, freckles and moles, tan and pale skin in equal parts, wrinkles, bruises, everything.

His cock, too, weeping pre-cum and a pretty pink at the tip.

“Thank you,” he sighs, gasping as you grasp him and stroke, slow and wet. He sets the pace, fucking into your grip and kissing you sloppily to it.

He’s lost technique, having avoided more intimate touch for so long, but the eagerness and anxiety means more to you than it being perfect.

He tenses again as he gets close, and you know it’s the adrenaline, the high. It feels too much like what he’s been fighting.

“Okay?”

Spencer swallows. “I don’t know,”

“What’s the difference between sexual arousal and adrenaline, baby?”

It distracts him, and it also guides him exactly where you want — that the bodily response may be similar, but the centers it lights up are different; the cause is different; he hasn’t done anything to jeopardize himself, he’s okay. He can let go of some of the control he had to regain, can slowly ease back up.

He’s safe.

He cums, gasping breaths tearing through him. As soon as you work him through it, you pull off and clean him.

“You did so good,” you praise, brushing his curls with your clean hand and stroking the skin on the nape of his neck. “You’re okay,”

Spencer nods and kisses you, no urgency, just the depths of his feelings. “I missed you,”

“I missed you too, Spence,” you try not to let the tears prick your eyes, but you know you fail when he furrows his brow at you. “I’m happy,” you reassure.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.” You breathe out. “I just… I’m glad you feel safe enough to try. You know? It’s hard to watch you struggle.”

“It’s hard for me too,” he laughs, kissing your tears, a reversal of just an hour ago. “But I know what you mean. I’m sorry if it makes it hard for you.”

“No. It doesn’t,” you’re quick and firm in your reassurance. “I mean it when I say I will always be here for you. Good and the bad. In sickness and in health — though, maybe I should keep that unofficial until you put a ring on me.”

He laughs, boyish and free. The happiest he’s been in months. “Soon,”

#my works #mdni #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid x you #spencer reid fic #spencer reid #criminal minds #criminal minds fanfic #spencer reid smut #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid angst #spencer reid scenario #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid oneshot #spencer reid imagine #cm spoilers #requested

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evansbby · 10 months

Text

𝐇𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝐃𝐞𝐯𝐨𝐮𝐫𝐞𝐝

𝐏𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: bestfriend!Ari Levinson x naive!reader

𝐖𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: HEAVY SOMNO, dark!Ari, smutt, daddy!kink, non-con, 18+ only, minors dni.

𝐒𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: Your best friend, Ari, wants to fuck you. And he doesn’t care if you’re awake or asleep...

𝐀/𝐍: SUPER DARK. Please, if you don’t like, don’t read! The whole thing is basically somno, and this is a dark fic! Please beware of that. Apart from that, enjoy! Also, this is completely unedited lol please be kind.

“Ow! Ari! I told you; my boyfriend won’t like it if you do that!”

“What? This?”

Ari plants his lips against the nape of your bare neck, giving the sensitive skin a hearty suck. His fingers dance down your body, digging into your ribs and making you giggle and squirm on top of him.

“Stop! It hurts!”

“Oh yeah? Why are you laughing, then?” He tickles you harder, holding you tightly in his arms lest you try to escape. You’re too busy laughing your head off to notice his lips press against your skin once more, his tongue lathering at the hickey he’s just given you. And then he sucks again, so hard that your laughter is cut short and you gasp, feeling like your sensitive skin is going to break as he continues to suction it.

“Nooo, Ari, please! Steve won’t like that! He’ll get the wrong idea!”

Ari draws back and smirks, “Please. We’ve been best friends longer than you’ve been going out with Steve. And best friends are allowed to cuddle every now and then, I’m sure your tool of a boyfriend will understand that.”

“Hey! Don’t call him a tool!” You smack Ari on the chest but all he does is grab both your wrists with one hand, his other one snaking down to tickle you some more. You scream and laugh, trying to break free but he’s way too strong as he pins you down on the sofa, climbing on top of you and continuing to attack your ribs with his fingers.

Ari had been your best friend for years – ever since high school, to be exact. He was big and protective and strong and confident, making you feel safe whenever you were around him. He was also goofy and fun and kind, but he usually reserved those personality traits for when the two of you were alone. Everyone else knew him as Ari Levinson, the football star with huge prospects – the NFL’s newest recruit, in fact – and a man with a dangerous streak in him.

But you knew him as just Ari, the boy you’d grown up with. The one who you’d watched funny movies with till the two of you peed your pants laughing, the one who’d always helped you study for all your tests. The one who you’d shared so many of your firsts with. Your first time on a plane had been with Ari when the two of you had jetted off to Bali (a graduation present from his parents). Your first-time smoking weed had also been with Ari (he’d laughed and assured you that the police were not going to lock you up for smoking a joint).

Even your first kiss had been with Ari. (“Don’t worry, I’m just going to show you how to do it.” Ari had assured you, “No strings attached, baby. I don’t wanna jeopardise our friendship, it’s the most important thing in the world to me.”) And show you he had, and you still remember his soft lips on yours, like a warm pillow working against your mouth. His breathless whispers against you, coaxing you to use your tongue, and his big hands holding you close to him, almost like he never wanted to let you go.

You’d kissed many guys since then, but Ari didn’t know about all of them. He seemed to grow upset and irritated any time you mentioned going on a date with anyone, let alone kissing and making out and all that other stuff. All of which you’d done with Steve, your current boyfriend. In fact, Steve had taken your virginity this past summer – but Ari didn’t have to know that. It had taken him weeks to accept that Steve was your boyfriend, you knew it would take him another year to process that you’d given your virginity to Steve too.

But Ari was just protective, you always reasoned to yourself. And there was nothing wrong with that. In fact, you liked how secure he made you feel and how he was always there for you. How he always dropped everything for you, even with the bazillions of girls who were after him. (Ari, with his rugged good looks, was always popular with the ladies. But being an NFL star boosted his popularity even more – he had supermodels regularly going in and out of his house. You could confirm, you’d run into one or two a few times).

“Hello? You still there?” Ari bounces you in his lap to get your attention. “It’s no fun torturing you when you don’t give me a reaction.”

“Sorry, I was just thinking.”

He nudges your nose with his and shoots you his winning smile, the one that makes his blue eyes sparkle. “I’m the one who does the thinking, remember? You just look pretty.”

You blink, “Steve says he likes it when I space out. He wants me to write all my thoughts down so he can turn them into poetry.”

Ari rolls his eyes, “He sounds like a douche.”

You smack his hard chest once more. “He’s not. If you just agreed to meet him once, you’d like him just as much as I do.”

“I doubt it.”

You bat his chest again.

“Ow! Okay, okay, I’d like him! Now can we stop talking about Steve when it’s you and me time?” Ari huffs, giving you a squeeze. “I finally got you all to myself for the weekend and all you want to do is talk about Steve.”

“Aww, I’m sorry, Ari. What do you want to do?”

The two of you end up putting on a movie and cuddling on the couch. It’s raining cats and dogs outside, but the steady pitter-patter of the water droplets against the window creates an oddly calming atmosphere. Inside, you feel toasty warm in Ari’s embrace, the big brunette holding you tightly against his chest as he spoons you and all you can hear is the movie mixed in with the crackling of the fireplace and your best friend’s steady breathing against your neck.

“I always get sleepy when we cuddle.” You yawn, giggling when his lips find your neck again. Cuddling with Ari was always fun – the two of you had been doing it for years. Ari had told you that all best friends cuddle like this, where the two of you are so close that you can feel every part of him. Even his hard crotch as it nestles against your ass, and every few seconds he shuffles or grabs your hips and moves you up and down. But he probably doesn’t realise what he’s doing, or that you can feel him getting… excited. He probably doesn’t mean to get excited anyways.

You sometimes get excited while cuddling with Ari too. Excited down there. But you’re too shy and embarrassed to ever tell him. You’re meant to just be best friends with him, for Godsakes! Nothing more!

“Ari?”

“Mm, sweetheart?” He mumbles against your neck, where his tongue is currently licking over a spot that he’s been sucking for a while now.

“I know you said that all best friends give each other hickeys while cuddling, but I don’t think Steve would like it if he saw these.”

Ari groans, not letting up at all as he continues to suck at the one spot on your neck. In fact, you feel his teeth graze against your sensitive skin and you gasp when he bites down. Not too hard, but enough to make the mark even more prominent. God, you’d need a lot of makeup to cover that up – you knew without even looking at it.

“There you go again, talking about Steve when it’s meant to be us time. Now shh, I’m trying to relax and watch the movie. You should try and do the same.”

You do try, feeling your eyelids grow heavy as you watch the movie play out on the television. The pitter-patter of the rain outside makes you feel even sleepier, so much so that you barely even register it when you feel Ari’s hands slip under your tank top. He did that sometimes, claiming that his hands got cold very easily and he needed the warmth of your bare skin to heat them back up – which was totally understandable. His palms always felt warm against you, however, but you knew that Ari knew best.

“Is this the new bra I got you?”

You yelp when you feel his hands cup your breasts over the material of your bra, giving them a few squeezes that have you involuntarily pressing your thighs together.

“Ari!”

His hands don’t move, instead he squeezes your breasts harder, and your face grows hot as your nipples stiffen, poking through the lace material and straight against his palm.

“Well? Is it?”

“Yes, it is.” You answer, stifling a yawn and deciding you’re too tired to fight him off you. He was just feeling extra touchy – he as like that sometimes. It was purely platonic and didn’t mean a thing. And it’s not like he was feeling you up, he was probably just trying to detect the material of the bra. It was one of the few (about twelve) lingerie sets from Victoria’s Secret that Ari had had delivered to your apartment a few days ago. He was always surprising you with gifts, it was actually very sweet of him.

“Good. I like it when you wear things I bought for you.”

“Mmhmm.” You’re feeling drowsier and drowsier, and it’s so comfy being in Ari’s strong arms as they hold you in place against his chest. Cuddling with Ari really was the best, and it just made you so sleepy…

“Go to sleep, baby.” Ari croons in your ear, giving you another tight squeeze. “I’ll be here when you wake up.”

Ari watches you drift off in his arms, his boner unbearably hard as he digs it into your ass. Fuck, you had the world’s cutest little bubble butt, and the way it was currently nestled against his dick was making him so fucking horny, it was unreal.

In fact, he was so riled up that everything you did tonight was making him horny. From the way you pranced around your apartment in those tight grey legging that made your ass pop, bending down to pick up God knows what and giving him an eyeful of your backside, making his palms itch to give it a slap or two. He’d gotten away with it in the past, various times while the two of you play-wrestled. And he’d just blame it on the innocent “rough-housing” as he’d smack your ass quickly in succession, loving how you’d squeal and dig your face into his chest in embarrassment. (Or pleasure, because Ari knew you secretly liked it).

And now here you were, cute little you practically unconscious in his arms. Wearing the pretty pink lace bra that he’d bought for you and cuddling up close to his chest. Unknowingly, you rub your butt against his crotch, making him groan in frustration. Goddamit, did you have to be so fucking hot? In your sexy leggings and your tight tank top that just about left nothing to the imagination. Not to mention how cute and innocent you were, and so much smaller than him, so much weaker than him…

“Fuck, baby, you’d run for the hills if you knew the thoughts I was thinking.” Ari tells you, giving your breasts another squeeze.

“What?” You mumble, but it seems like you’re halfway in dreamland. Which is exactly what Ari wants, because fuck it. He’s done waiting around for you, picturing you when he jacks off. He’s been doing that for years now, because he cums the hardest when he pictures you. All sweet and innocent, getting fucked by him in various positions. Crying because his cock is so big as it violates you, tears you open and claims you as he fucks you deep and hard, till you can feel him up in your womb. Till you’re screaming his name, telling him that he’s your daddy, telling him you’ll do anything for him.

Ari still remembers the first time you’d made him cum. You hadn’t been aware of it, but the way you’d bounced up and down on his lap, excited about some silly thing or the other, he couldn’t really remember. But what he does remember is busting a nut hard, your breasts pushed up prettily against his chest and your butt rubbing against his boner, practically milking his cock as he came in his pants. He’d had a taste of heaven that night, and that was years ago. He’d been sneaking more tastes ever since.

“But never the real thing,” Ari sighs to himself, his thumbs hooking under the waistband of your leggings. “I still haven’t been inside that tight snatch of yours, sweetheart. Isn’t that sad?”

You mumble something incoherent, clearly still half asleep. And Ari’s too horny to care, trying his luck by snapping the waistband of your leggings against your skin, licking his lips when you don’t stir.

“No panties, huh?” He teases you, slipping a hand down your leggings to cup your butt cheek and give it a hefty squeeze. “It’s like you’re begging me to fuck you, sweetheart. I wonder what Steve would think?”

God, Ari hates Steve. Hates him with a blind fury. He hates that the idiot blonde has weaselled his way into your life. Ari turned his back for one second (he was in the NFL, so football took up 90% of his time) and Steve just scooped you up before Ari could talk you out of it. He’s never officially met Steve, but he’s seen him. Seen him holding hands with you. Kissing you. Taking you out on dates. And Ari hates him for it.

Most of all, Ari hates that you let Steve fuck you.

“Oh, you think I don’t know that you’ve been a naughty girl?” Ari coos, chucking your chin and smirking when you pout in your sleep. He strokes your face with one hand, the other one still firmly cupping your bare ass from under your leggings. “My little baby girl, giving herself to another man. Let me tell you, baby, I was furious when I found out. I almost went over to Steve’s apartment and killed him with my bare hands.”

“But you’d hate me if I did that.” Ari sighs, pinching your cheek lightly. He licks his lips, lifting your tank top up till it rests above your chest, before pushing the cups of your bra down to your ribs. Your breasts spill out attractively, and Ari feels a thrill go straight down to his crotch. “I should’ve been the only one who ever got to see you naked. I mean, remember all those showers we took together?”

Ari had persuaded you on multiple occasions to shower with him in order to conserve water. Oh yes, he’d managed to convince you that he was all about saving the environment, and water conservation was number one on his list. And you hadn’t seemed to mind, giggling and washing his hair for him, not noticing how his eyes remained glued to your hot, soapy body, how his fingers itched to grab your hips, bend you over and fuck the living daylights out of you…

“But you just had to let Steve fuck you, didn’t you? Before I even got the chance.” He can’t help but dip his head down, latching his mouth on your bare nipple. God, he’d touched and fondled you over the years, but nothing like this. He tries to keep his excitement at bay but he can’t help but suckle the stiff peak of your nipple, growing hornier than ever as he keeps from suctioning your whole breast into his mouth, his one hand fondling your body while the other slips down to undo his fly and take his dick out.

“Mm, Ari… Is that you?” You murmur, sounding surprisingly eloquent for someone who’s meant to be asleep. But you’re indeed still asleep, softly snoring while Ari continues to have his way with you. He releases your nipple with a pop, gently turning you over so that you’re lying on your stomach, your cheek pressed against the arm rest of the couch.

“Now sweetheart, I’ll show you what it’s like to be with a real man. And I’ll make sure you remember it, even if you do think it’s all just a dream.”

He wastes not in slipping your leggings down to your knees, hungry eyes drinking in your cute, bare ass. He gives it a little smack, hands itching to hit you harder but he knows you’d wake up. And then how would he explain himself? Well, he could probably think of something (“I was just giving you a full-body massage, sweetheart. Your muscles seemed tense.”) You’d definitely believe it, since you were gullible enough to believe all the flimsy lies he’d been telling you for the past few years.

Ari presses a soft kiss to your butt, simultaneously grabbing a handful of your cheek and giving it a lewd jiggle. God, you were so sexy, lying down so nice for him as he violated your body. Well, it wasn’t a violation because he owned you. He’d owned you since the day he met you, and no sorry ass loser by the name of Steve Rogers was going to take you away from him. Steve may have gotten to pop your cherry, but Ari was going to make sure that that never happened again. The only dick you’d remember the feel of would be Ari’s, and that was a promise he was making to himself and to you. (If you were conscious right now, that is).

“You’re the hottest girl I’ve ever seen in my life.” Ari breathes, one hand on your hip and the other on his cock as he drags the tip of it up and down your ass. Tracing it over your butt cheek and smearing his precum all over the skin before he grabs and spreads your ass, pressing his dick between your crack and rubbing it up and down. “God, fuck, baby, I can’t believe you’re finally letting me do this.”

He spits, his saliva dripping down your ass crack and gathering in your puckered hole, making him grin. He’d fuck you there one day too – but you’d need to be awake and aware for that. There was no way he was stuffing his big dick inside your virgin ass while you were asleep.

“Ari? Feel kinda wet…” You mumble, trying to turn over but he presses his hand in the small of your back to keep you in place.

“You’re just dreaming, baby.” He tells you, stroking your hair to lull you back to sleep. “It’s raining outside, and so you’re dreaming of rain. That’s why you feel wet, sweetie.”

“Ohhhh, makes sense…” You answer, and Ari can’t believe his luck that you’re still asleep. Or not fully conscious… Same difference.

He spreads your ass cheeks wider, placing a pillow under your hips to prop you up. And then his eyes drink in your glistening pussy. And now he understands why you were mumbling about being feeling wet…

“Naughty little baby pussy, getting all wet just because daddy’s playing with your ass.” Ari scolds, talking to your pussy and not you. He itches to spread your wet folds with his fingers and give you a hard slap right on your bundle of nerves. But he knows the jolt from something like that might wake you up.

You’ve soaked the couch cushion underneath you, and that’s hen Ari knows you’re ready. Well, you’ll never truly be ready for his dick. Ari knows he’s bigger than average – enough girls have told him so. But none of those girls are you. He’s not in love with them like he is with you, all those supermodels and actresses are just placeholders until he settles down with you. Makes you his wife and fucks you good every single day.

“I can’t believe you’re asleep for our first time.” Ari whispers, gliding the tip of his dick up and down your slick folds. “I mean, I think it’s kind of hot, but that’s not the point. You weren’t asleep when you let Steve fuck you, were you?”

A spark of anger courses through his veins just then, and he can’t help but reprimand you by smacking your ass hard. And all you do is whimper in your sleep, his naughty little girl.

“I bet he didn’t even make you cum.” Ari breathes, mounting you and angling your hips upwards. “Not like how I will. And you know why? Because I’m your daddy and I know your body better than anyone.”

Ari still remembers the first time he made you call him daddy. It was during a game of truth or dare, and he’d dared you to call him daddy for the rest of the night. And fuck, you had done it. And his dick had grew harder and harder through the course of the night, as you addressed him as daddy all cutely, pouting those pretty lips of yours and blinking up at him innocently. Fuck, you had no idea how much of an effect you had on him. Even when he was fucking all those models, he’d imagine they were you. He chose the ones that looked like you, and sometimes he’d even call them by your name. They were too fucked out to notice, and it’s not like Ari cared about their feelings.

No, Ari only cared about you.

It feels like heaven as he slowly eases his dick inside you. You’re so wet and warm, your walls hugging his huge dick as if he’s being encased in warm velvet. God, this is everything he’d ever dreamed of, and he doesn’t even care that he isn’t the first one to fuck you. He supposes he could forgive you for that, because you’re his baby and he loves you.

“Nnngh, Ari…” You moan in your sleep before your body goes stiff with alertness, “Wh-What’re you doing?”

“Shhh, baby, go back to sleep. It’s just a dream.” Ari manages to coax you, despite the fact that your little snatch is squeezing his dick so good and he’s not even halfway inside of you but it’s such a goddamn tight fit and he knows that if you were awake right now you’d be crying from discomfort.

“Just a dream?” You murmur, before your body jolts and you let out another moan, “Mmm, Ari, so full…”

“Oh, baby, I’m gonna tear you in half.” Ari promises you, resisting the urge to drive his big dick all the way inside you from the get-go. No, you’re his baby, his princess, his best friend, and the love of his life. He has to be gentle with you – at first, at least. He doesn’t want to split you open and make you bleed. Well, he does, but there’s plenty of time to do that in the future.

He pushes his dick further into you, pinning your body in place as you squirm from the sheer size of him.

“I’m already fucking you better than that asshole boyfriend of yours ever did, huh?”

“Mmhm, yess….”

“Damn straight. I bet his cock ain’t as big as mine, huh?”

“Oh, Ari… Nooo.”

It’s a marvel that you’re asleep yet answering his questions, but he figures you think it’s all just a dirty little dream you’re having. He begins to rock his hips harder, still having trouble stuffing his whole length inside your tight pussy. Not to mention, your walls are hugging him like a vice, and he resists the urge to bust a nut every time he looks down to where you both meet.

“Call me daddy, sweetie. Like how you did that night we played truth or dare.”

“Daddy?”

“Yeah, just like that. God, I love how well you take instructions even when you’re asleep. You’re so perfect for me, sweetheart. I need to move you into my house soon. You’d like that, wouldn’t you? Being an NFL player’s girlfriend? Getting fucked by me every single night till you can’t walk straight ever again. That’s just half of what I plan to do to you.”

Finally, finally, Ari bottoms out inside you, his heavy balls slapping against your pussy as he shudders with relief. You’re moaning sleepily underneath him but all he can focus on is the delicious squeeze of your walls against his thick dick, and how well you’ve taken him.

“Good girl.” Ari praises you, giving your ass another hard squeeze. “Taking your best friend’s dick so well, aren’t you? Or should I say, your daddy’s dick?”

“Daddy…” You mumble as if on cue.

“Damn right.”

Ari fucks you hard. Well, as hard as he can while still ensuring you remain asleep. He keeps a steady pace, unable to bite back his own moans of pleasure at the fact that he’s finally fucking you. And you look so pretty, your soft body underneath him, tensing and clenching around him like it’s your job to take his daddy dick in your little fuckhole.

He grabs a handful of your hair, tugging your head to the side and spitting down on your cheek. Loving how your nose scrunches up all cutely before he reaches out to smear his saliva all over your face, making you look as slutty as possible. Slutty just for him, because after tonight, no other man would ever have you like this. Or have you at all, for that matter.

“Tell me you love my daddy dick.” He repositions himself till he’s lying over you, his body pinning yours down and his chest against your back, his hips pistoning in and out of you at a steady pace. He licks the shell of your ear lewdly before nibbling on your earlobe, “Tell me you love it when daddy fucks you with his big daddy dick.”

“L-Luh your dick!”

“My what?” He slaps your ass, doing it hard even though he knows he’s pushing his luck.

“Love daddy’s dick.” You murmur dutifully, and Ari can’t believe you actually said it. A part of him wonders if it’s all an act and if you’re awake, but one look at your unconscious face, albeit sweaty and breathing hard, confirms you’re still out of it.

“Fuck, baby. Daddy can’t hold on much longer, your baby pussy is just too sweet.” Ari tells you, feeling his thrusts get faster and faster as he chases his release. But before he can even think of what’s happening next, he feels you clench around him hard.

“Nngh! Daddy!” You whimper and your body quivers and tries to toss and turn except he holds you in place, watching in awe as you cum. You squeeze his dick so tight he forgets to breathe momentarily, just watching your sweet cream squirt out of you as if you’re being paid to squirt all over him. He forgets about his own pleasure for a second, hand sneaking down and fingers finding your clit. You jolt in his arms, whimpering and moaning underneath him as he rubs your button, pinching it cruelly before slapping it. Alternating between circling and rubbing, and does he imagine it or are you humping up against his hand as he does it?

You let out the cutest squeak in the world before you cum once more, and it’s enough to tip Ari over the edge too. He grips you so hard, he knows it’ll leave bruises on your skin. But he doesn’t care, his dick explodes as he releases his heavy load inside you, not caring that he isn’t wearing a condom. Not caring that you’re not on the pill (he knows, because he makes it his business to know everything about you). The idea of getting you pregnant doesn’t deter him at all, despite the fact that he’s at the start of his NFL career. That doesn’t matter, being a football player’s pregnant wife is a look that would suit you well.

And the idea of you pregnant with his baby gets Ari hard all over again.

“Look what you’ve done, sweetie.” Ari tsk-tsks, “You’ve got daddy hard again.” He strokes your hair back, wiping the sweat off your face as you breathe hard underneath him, miraculously still asleep. “But don’t worry, I’ll give you a chance to catch your breath before I fuck you again.”

He lays on top of you, breathing hard with his dick still lodged inside you, stroking your hair and cuddling you close. And that’s when your eyes flutter open.

“Ari? What’s going on? Why do I feel so…so…”

“Shhh, baby, it’s just a dream.”

“It is?”

He sits up, fishing out a pack of cigarettes from his pocket and lighting one before taking a long drag, looking down at your spent body that he’s just used and feeling extremely proud of himself. “Of course. Go back to sleep, sweetheart. Daddy’s gonna take good care of you.”

“Mmm,” The claws of sleep already have you closing your eyes again, and you snuggle up closer to him, a look of serenity on your face as if you haven’t just been fucked and filled with his cum. Cigarette between his lips, Ari offers you his thumb, smirking when you immediately encase it between your lips, sucking on it like it’s a lollypop.

“Love you, Ari. Thank you for always taking care of me.”

FUCKEFNVD THE END! NFDKSLN IDEK! FEEDBACK IS APPRECIATED PLS TELL ME WHAT OYU THINK AND REBLOG AND ALL THAT GOOD STUFF THANK U BYEEE

#ari levinson #ari levinson x reader #chris evans #steve rogers #chris evans x reader #steve rogers x reader

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daizymax · 3 months

Text

wondrous | lmh (m)

summary: pregnancy is strange and uncomfortable and even kind of gross, but your loving husband is always willing to show you just how desirable and wonderful you are.

pairing: lee know x fem reader

genre: smut

word count: 5.3k

rating: mature (18+)

warnings & features: profanity; pregnancy; some body insecurities; binary gender talk; graphic sexual content; pregnant sex; dirty talk; lactation kink; creampie

author’s note: rewritten for stray kids and reuploaded from my old blog. hope you enjoy!

( click here to read on AO3 instead )

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Slamming the car door with more force than necessary is childish, and if your husband were here, he would probably tell you so. Well, maybe not in such blatant terms. First, he would probably ask you to explain what led you to such pissy behavior, and your answer would be that you’re frustrated and out of patience.

You hate that your patience is in such short supply these days. You know you are going to need all of it and then some when the baby comes.

You rest one of your hands on the crest of your bulging stomach and sigh softly. “I’m sorry,” you say to the ever-growing baby within. “I guess you might need to be patient with me, too, if it’s not too much to ask.”

The tears well up unbidden. That happens often lately with your hormones on the fritz. Evidently something as mundane as a shopping trip to the mall is enough to upset you nowadays. Then your mind dwells on how you should be grateful to be in a position to buy the things you want and need whenever you want, and that only makes you sob harder.

You allow the silly little breakdown to run its course, knowing it will be better to sit and let it out now before you drive home.

After a few minutes, you sniffle and wipe your wet cheeks in shame. After a couple more minutes of deep breaths, when you are certain you are stable enough to drive, you start the engine.

The commute home gives you some time to decompress, and the sight of Minho’s car in the driveway lifts your spirits. He told you this morning that he might have to work late this evening — which was fine by you since it translated to having more money for the pending expenses of birthing and raising a child — but having him home is even better.

A loud clang and a muttered curse greet you as you enter the front door. It may not be a polite reaction, but you can’t help but smile at whatever your husband is struggling with in the kitchen. You sling your shopping bags onto the couch and go to rescue him.

Minho is bent over at the waist, rummaging through a bottom cabinet with his backside to you. You take a moment to ogle the fit of his jeans appreciatively before making your presence known.

“Hi honey, need some help?”

He flinches and whirls around. “Heyyy, doll! I didn’t hear you come in.” He hastily combs his fingers through his smooth brown hair as if to compose himself for you.

“That’s because you were busy tearing down the kitchen, from the sound of it,” you laugh.

He does not even dispute your joke. He just groans in frustration and kicks his foot out behind him to close the cabinet. “Where do we keep the rice cooker? I swear I’ve looked everywhere.”

“Did you look here?” You pull open the correct cabinet near your calves and squat down to retrieve it. He rushes to stop you.

“Hey, hey, let me get it.” He comes over and crouches with you only to put his hands on your hips and guide you back up with him. “You shouldn’t exert yourself. I have a bun in that oven, lady.”

You snort loudly. “Don’t I know it. My whole day was an over-exertion, though. I think I can handle stooping over to grab the rice cooker.”

“Oh?” His face becomes concerned, eyebrows wrinkling and pink lips pouting adorably. His hands begin sliding up and down along your sides. “What was wrong with your day?”

“Oh, I’ve just decided I hate shopping for maternity clothes now,” you say, sighing heavily. The statement is so frivolous it makes you cringe, but the rest of your unimportant complaints come flooding out anyway. “They’re all so unflattering, not to mention it’s so uncomfortable trying them on. Getting undressed and redressed is such a pain in the ass. It’s like a whole fucking workout now, I swear to god.”

“Ah, I bet. Poor thing,” Minho says without a trace of condescension to his tone, and you envy his patience. He pulls you in for a hug in his strong arms, and your swollen stomach bumps against his flat one.

Inspired by his understanding, you continue unburdening your rather meaningless worries into his shoulder. “It was so crowded, too. I hate how everyone stares at me all the time just because I’m pregnant. And I especially hate when other parents come up to me and give me advice or tell me stories about their own pregnancies, like I fucking asked.”

Minho laughs and massages his fingertips into the back of your head. “I think they’re just trying to be kind and helpful. They only mean well.”

“Yeah, well, it’s also super annoying.”

“Sorry. What can I do to help?”

You shake your head and step back from him. “Right now I just want to shower and change my clothes. I’m not kidding about that ‘workout.’ I’ve been sweating for hours and I feel disgusting right now. The boob sweat is strong under this sweater right now.”

“Well, we’ve got a towel right here.” He whips the dish towel off the handle of the stove with a flourish and holds it up with a cheeky grin. “Let me help you.”

You laugh. “You want to dry my boobs off with that?”

“It’s clean!”

“Don’t be silly.”

“You’ll be glad for my silliness when our baby comes,” he says, dropping the towel to start tickling you mercilessly.

Your stomach muscles heave with your fit of giggles, and the baby starts kicking to join in on the commotion.

“Ah! No t-tickling, damnit! The b-baby doesn’t like it.”

“No?” Minho stops his playful torment and cups your stomach on either side. It only takes a second for him to feel what you mean. “I think maybe she does.”

“Or he. The baby could be a boy, you know.”

The two of you have decided to keep the gender a surprise until the birth, but that does not stop your husband from speculating.

“Could be,” he says a bit dismissively. He kneels down on the tiled floor so his face is level with your belly-button, which has recently begun to protrude outwards like the rest of you.

He runs his fingers along the surface of your stretched sweater and says quietly, “I just have a hunch that it’s a girl. She’s feisty, like you.” He places a sweet kiss on the top of your belly, then speaks directly to it. “Sorry about the tickling, sweet baby girl. Daddy was just making Mommy laugh to help make her feel better. I have something else that might make her feel better, though.”

“What is it?” you ask.

“Come on, I’ll show you.”

Minho interlocks his fingers with yours and leads you up the stairs — which have become quite the strain on your knees lately — and to the baby’s room.

The moment he pushes open the door, you see exactly what he means. The crib now resembles a crib and not a scattering of wooden pieces strewn around the floor the way they had been for weeks. The inside is lined with blankets and stuffed animals, and the mobile you chose is hanging above it. It could hardly be more picturesque.

With this, the nursery is complete. The painting had been finished a couple months ago, and the other pieces of necessary and decorative furniture have been set in their places for quite some time as well.

“Wow, you actually finished it?” you say. “How did you have time to do that after work today?”

“You were gone for longer than you realize,” he says, chuckling. “I took half the day off to come home and surprise you, but you weren’t here, so I decided to surprise you with this instead.”

“Consider me surprised,” you say with a smile. You squeeze his hand before letting go and walking over to the crib. You give the rail a little shake to test the sturdiness of your husband’s handiwork, and your eyebrows raise in satisfaction at the result.

“I only had to start all over again once,” Minho says proudly, sidling up beside you and gliding a hand along the small of your back to rest on your hip. His thumb traces little circles into it.

“You did a great job,” you say, turning in his hold to wrap your arms around his waist in return, albeit with a bit of difficulty due to your belly getting in the way.

“Glad you like it.” He leans forward to plant a kiss on your forehead, then your nose, then down to your chin, then back up to your mouth. You smile and chase after his lips when he pulls away, and he laughs as he kisses you again. “Come on, let’s sit for a bit and get you off your feet. Dinner and a shower can wait a little while longer.” He moves over to the rocking chair in the corner and takes a seat, then pats his lap invitingly.

“Min, I’ll crush you,” you say with a shake of your head.

He shakes his head right back. “Oh, stop it. No you won’t. You’re not that heavy, and I’m not that fragile.”

He starts beckoning you by stretching his arms out and repeatedly opening and closing his hands. The action is irresistibly cute, so you relent. You toe off your shoes and go to sit on his proposed seat. You try not to rest too much weight on him as you sit on his knee, but he ruins your position by taking your hips and dragging you further up his muscular thigh.

“Put your legs up on me,” he says. “If it’s not too uncomfortable for you, I mean.”

You do as he says and turn sideways to hoist your legs over his other thigh. Minho holds onto your knee with one hand and wraps his other arm behind your back to keep you in place.

“There we go. Is this okay?” he asks.

You shift and wiggle until your back is relatively comfortable. “I think so. Are you okay?”

He smiles and squeezes you reassuringly. “I’ve got my beautiful wife on my lap... we’re sitting right where we’ll be rocking our baby when she — or he — is born... I’d say I’m pretty perfect.”

You take his word for it and sigh in content, leaning into him and resting your head in the crook of his neck. He lays his cheek against your head and pushes his feet off the floor to begin gently rocking the chair as it was intended.

For a few moments, the two of you sit and rock in silence until Minho begins humming softly. Something mellow and baritone. The melody is one you recognize, but the lyrics to that particular song elude you. You’ll ask him about it later. Right now, the vibrations from his throat and the steady thrum of his heartbeat are lulling you peacefully. The faint scent of his cologne and the warmth of his body seep comfortably into your skin.

You tilt your face up to kiss his throat appreciatively for the comfort he is providing. He hums out of tune at your gentle touch, and you kiss him there again. This time you take a bit of his flesh into your mouth with a delicate suck, and he hisses in a short breath. His reaction spurs you to do it again, and then again, until the honey skin is left pink from the teasing.

“Mm, that feels really good, babe,” Minho murmurs. The pet name makes your heart flutter a bit; it was used so frequently at the start of your relationship, but over the years it has become a bit more rare. It makes you feel a little sexy, even in your sweaty, bloated, and achy state.

“Yeah? Should I keep going?” you ask. Your lips ghost over his neck, and your fingers begin trailing down the center of his chest.

“Please.” There is a slight rasp to the syllable that makes you feel proud considering you have barely even done anything to him.

Your fingers find the hems of his sweater and white t-shirt and begin tugging at them. “Do you mind if I take these off?”

“Not at all.” He shrugs out of his cardigan then lifts his arms so you can have the honor of pulling up his shirt to toss it aside. The taut muscles in his chest and abdomen twitch as your fingertips graze them. Before you get to the waistband of his jeans, Minho takes your wandering fingers and stops you.

“Wait,” he says. You look at him curiously. “You said you had a rough day. I should take care of you.”

“Oh? How so?”

“Well, I figured I could start by getting you out of your clothes, and then we can see where things lead.”

Sex with your husband has been infrequent over the course of your thirty-week pregnancy so far, but it has occurred. The doctor assured you there are no complication risks involved, even when this far along. Your pregnancy is perfectly healthy, and sex is not harmful to the baby, so you and Minho are free to continue your normal sex life.

The problem is you don’t always feel up for sex. Between your various aches and the increasing challenge of finding a comfortable position, you sometimes have to wonder if an orgasm is really worth the trouble. But it has been a while since your last release, and you trust Minho to be caring and attentive, so you nod in agreement.

He guides you to stand up from his lap, and you allow him to remove your shirt. The sheen of sweat that has been building for the greater part of the afternoon is made even more apparent when the open air meets it.

“Ugh, I still feel gross,” you mutter under your breath. The inkling of sexiness you felt just moments ago is already gone.

“You don’t look gross,” Minho says. He scans you from head to toe before settling his gaze on your chest. “Will you take your bra off for me, please?”

You hesitate a few seconds, then unhook the restrictive garment and shrug out of it to let it drop to the floor. The moment it is gone, Minho reaches out to grasp your hips and slide his hands up along the expanse of your stomach. His warm, tender touch sends a shiver through you, and the baby begins fidgeting again. Your husband must feel it, too, because he smiles up at you brightly.

“God, how did I get so lucky? You are so beautiful.” His tone carries real sincerity. “Especially with your body like this, carrying our child. You’re so fucking… wonderful.”

You automatically let out an unflattering snort of self-consciousness as you think of the new stretch marks striping your breasts, hips, and stomach. You can’t even bring yourself to look at them right now.

“I mean it. It’s true,” he insists. His eyes drop to your bare stomach to look at what you will not. “It’s amazing how you’re able to grow a baby inside of you, just because I came in you.”

There is laughter in your breathy exhale. “Gee, you make it sound so sexy, Min.”

“But it is sexy. You’re growing hands and feet and… eyes inside your womb right now, this very moment.”

You wrinkle your nose. “That doesn’t sound sexy at all. It sounds scientific.”

“Yeah, but it’s also kind of magical, isn’t it? And just think about it: you’ll be able to feed the baby with your body, too…” Minho folds his bottom lip between his teeth for a second as he studies your chest with great interest. “Just look at these perfect tits, getting all swollen with milk for our baby.”

He starts to squeeze, lift, and massage your breasts reverently, completely undeterred by the stickiness coated on the undersides of them from your sweat. A quiet moan rumbles up from your throat.

Even though he is being gentle, the stimulation is still enough to make your nipples begin discharging a thick fluid that is slightly yellow in color. The sight of it kind of embarrasses you, even though it is completely natural. Your doctor explained that it is the “pre milk” before your body begins producing normal breast milk after the birth.

“Min…” you fret with a nervous giggle. You peel his hands away and take a step back from him.

“It’s okay, babe,” he says. He stands up and rearranges your hands so that he is the one holding yours. “It’s just your body, don’t be ashamed. I told you, you’re beautiful. You’re wonderful. You’re amazing.”

He lifts the heavy mounds on your chest again and presses them together as if to get a better view of the wetness seeping from them. He swipes his thumbs over both of your wet nipples, then casually sticks one of his thumbs in his mouth as if he has done this many times before.

“Mm, tastes sweet,” he says.

“Does it?”

“Yeah. Can I… do you think I could...” He trails off in a puff that sounds like he is the one who’s embarrassed. Eventually, he blurts, “I want to try some more.”

“What, you want to actually… drink it?” you ask. The notion surprises you, and you want to make sure you are understanding him correctly.

“I’d like to try, if you’re comfortable with that. I just want to appreciate your body in every way.”

Minho rolls a sensitive pebble between his thumb and forefinger as he waits for your reply.

After another second, you nod your consent, and he flashes you a toothy smile before he latches his mouth directly onto your nipple. The touch of his soft lips coupled with the tip of his tongue makes you gasp in pleasure. Goosebumps break out over your skin as he suckles delicately. You have to admit the sensation of the fluid flowing from your nipple is oddly satisfying, and the wet suction sound Minho is creating is more than a little erotic. Heat starts to pool between your legs to dampen your panties.

“Is this okay?” he asks you again, peering up at your face as he switches to the other tit. When his tongue takes the nipple in between his lips, you notice it is coated with a milky sheen.

“Yeah, it… it actually feels really good,” you confess. Without consciously choosing to do it, your thighs press together to apply some pressure to your clit. Even with your stomach in the way, Minho’s smirk tells you he does not miss the action.

“Are you wet down there between your legs, too?”

“Yes.”

“Dripping?”

“Mm…”

“I want to feel.”

“Be my guest,” you invite. He goes to slip his hand past the waistband of your pants, but you quickly instruct, “Just take them off.”

He does not need to be told twice. He detaches from your breast and yanks your pants down to your ankles. You steady yourself on his shoulders as you pull your feet free.

“Panties, too,” you add, but his fingers are already hooking into them.

Once they are shed, Minho takes his time running his warm hands back up your calves to your inner thighs, spreading your legs just a little wider than hip-width apart. He wastes no more time in dipping the pads of three fingers along your slit. The slickness he finds there has both of you groaning lowly.

“You are wet. Is this all because I sucked a little milk from your tits?”

A slow smile grows across your face. “Maybe.”

“Should I suck some more?”

“I don’t think there’s much in there at a time yet, honestly,” you tell him rather seriously. “Not until after the baby is born.”

He hums in understanding. “That’s okay, babe. I’ll settle for eating your pussy, if that’s alright,” he says, sinking two knuckles inside you.

“J-Jesus, Min. Y-yeah. Please.”

He grins, drawing his fingers back a little just to shove them in forcefully. “Alright. Have a seat for me,” he says. He removes his fingers from you and slides them into his mouth for the taste of something else. He really does adore all parts of you.

The rocking chair tips backwards when you settle into it, which only improves the access Minho has to your pussy. He makes it even easier for himself, however, by kneeling down and hoisting your legs onto each of his shoulders.

“Is this good?” he asks. He brings his head between your thighs and dots soft kisses along one of them.

You scoot your butt to the very edge of the seat. “Yeah, for now. I’ll let you know if it starts to hurt.”

“Please do,” he agrees at once.

He leans forward and parts your sticky folds with two fingers before dragging his tongue from the bottom of your slit to the top in one slow, firm motion. Your breath hitches in your chest when he buries the pink muscle into your wet hole. He licks in a circle from one pulsing wall to the other and back again, then pulls back and licks his lips.

“Do you want my tongue in you and fingers on your clit, or my tongue on your clit and fingers in you?” he asks. He does not normally require such direct instructions, but he has been so concerned with you in your pregnant state. He wants to make sure he is giving you as much pleasure as possible, and he does not want any room for misunderstanding or disappointment.

“Fingers inside, please,” you say.

Minho fits one finger back inside your pussy, soon followed by a second, and your walls squeeze tightly around the digits to welcome and secure them. Then he flattens his tongue to press it back and forth, up and down over your clit. He builds a steady pace that renders your eyes closed and mouth unhinged to let flow a stream of pleasurable sighs and moans. Your pitch heightens considerably when his fingers hit pay dirt on that spot inside you that always makes your toes curl. When you rock against his face to get all the friction you can, the chair moves with you.

“Shit, this is so hot, babe,” your husband groans from below. “Should’ve eaten you out in a rocking chair a long time ago.”

You start to respond but your words pinch into a squeal from a particularly strong tap against your g-spot with his fingertips, and that seems to be all the answer he could want.

Minho becomes greedy for your unfiltered noises and closes his lips around your clit to suck it the way he sucked your nipples just moments earlier. A shiver tumbles down each rung of your spine, all the way to your clenched toes. Your muscles tense to cope with the sheer intensity of the pleasure being administered to that oh-so-sensitive bundle of nerves between your legs. His fingers work tirelessly to undo you in tandem with his skillful tongue. The crest of your climax is drawing near so soon.

“Oh my god, Min,” you breathe with hardly any sound. “Fuck, you’ve got me so close already.”

He grunts his acknowledgement. “Is this how you want to come, doll? All over my fingers? All over my tongue?”

It is very tempting, but you still decline. “N-no. I want you inside me.”

“I’m already inside you.” He twists his fingers pointedly. “Can you be more specific?”

“You know what I mean,” you groan.

He has to get in a few more swipes of his tongue before he can say, “Yeah, but I want to hear you say it. You can have everything you want if you ask me.”

“I want your c-cock inside me. Now, please.”

Minho makes no move to cease his actions other than to briefly retract his tongue to speak again. “You sure you don’t want me to just keep going? You’re so close.”

“Yes, yes, I’m sure. Please, fuck me already.”

The moan he lets out when he pulls away from you and gets to his feet is positively carnal. He rushes to undo his jeans, then shoves both them and his underwear to the floor in one swoop. You tilt your head to take in the view of his erect cock; the bulbous head is nearly purple from engorgement, and there is a glistening wetness at the slit from a buildup of precum.

“How do you want me?” he asks.

“Let’s try the chair.”

“Do you want to bend over it and I’ll fuck you from behind? Or do you want me to sit down and have you ride me?”

“Sit down and I’ll try riding you.”

You rock yourself up and out of the chair, and Minho takes a firm hold of each of your hands to help tug you to your feet. He kisses you quick and sloppy, giving you a quick taste of your arousal, before switching places with you and taking a seat. His cock points upwards as the perfect target for you to sit on.

You face away from him and straddle his legs to get yourself in position. One of his hands steadies your lowering hips as the other lines his dick up for entry. The tip squeezes into your warm wetness with ease. Minho spreads his legs wider and thrusts up to fit a few more inches of himself. With another shove from him and a bit of wriggling on your part, he bottoms out.

“Fuck, you always feel so fucking good,” he rumbles from behind you. Both of his hands are clenched tightly on your hips now.

You moan in agreement. “So do you.”

Bracing yourself on the arms of the chair, you raise yourself up a couple inches, then sink back down swiftly. Minho plants his feet firmly to keep the chair steady and meet you blow for blow as you start up a rhythm. The two of you grunt and pant with every stroke; the sounds are out of sync, but your movements are not.

The friction feels good, but your looming orgasm from earlier is not quite building again as you had hoped it would. Furthermore, your arms are already beginning to tremble from your efforts.

“Shit,” you swear in frustration. “Maybe this won’t work after all.”

He brings up his earlier suggestion and says, “Want to try bending over?”

“Yeah, okay. Let’s try that.”

His wet dick falls out of you to slap against his stomach when you stand up from his lap. Again, the two of you switch positions so you can lean down and prop your arms along the armrests of the chair. The seat tilts downward as you bend over and press your head against the back of it, and your breasts hang heavy below you. You vaguely notice they have begun to leak again.

Minho steps up behind you and returns his hands to your waist to lift your backside a little higher to expose yourself to him. The head of his cock briefly pokes over your asshole when he guides it into place at your pussy again. With a sigh of satisfaction, he pushes back inside and waits for an extended moment while you to readjust to the tight stretch of his girth.

When you tell him you’re ready, he recreates the rhythm you had started earlier, but at a slightly faster tempo now. Each smack of his tensed thighs against your buttocks makes your breasts bounce — another motion that does not go unnoticed by him.

“God, you’re so fucking hot,” he breathes. One of his hands reaches over to cup one swinging breast and then the other. His fingers toy at your wet nipples once more. “You’re already such a MILF.”

The term makes you burst into surprised laughter. “Oh my god, please do not call me that,” you say.

“Why not?” Minho laughs back. “It’s true. You’re so. Damn. Sexy.” He emphasizes each word with concise, gasp-inducing thrusts. “And motherhood is only going to enhance that.”

“Ungh, right now I just want to come,” you groan, not interested in continuing a conversation at the moment, no matter how flattering. Your body feels heavy, but the coil in you is getting close to snapping again. “Please, Min... please…”

“Oh, you will, doll. I want you to come just as badly.” He pinches your drippy nipple with one hand, maneuvers the other hand around your waist, under your stomach, between your legs to trap your throbbing clit between two fingers. “Want you to come all over this cock.”

“Keep going and I will,” you promise him.

He speeds his hips up until he is hitting your g-spot with every push. He rubs and plays with your clit just the way you like. The steady whapping sound of skin on skin fills the nursery, along with your breathless encouragements for your husband to keep groping, keep pounding, keep going.

“You’re dripping everywhere for me, aren’t you, baby?” he grunts, his breath hot and ragged. “Got your sticky little clit in one hand, and your tit is leaking in my other.”

He is not wrong. Everything is so wet, so hot, so sticky. You whimper and repeatedly push back against him to further increase the friction.

“So fucking filthy,” he goes on, nearly growling. “Makes me want to bust and fill you up with cum. There’s gonna be so fucking much of it.”

His words, combined with a few more sweeps of his fingers over your clit and stabs of his cockhead against the sweetest part of you, burst you straight through the roof of your climax. With a whiny, broken moan, your pussy clamps him tightly, and it is not more than four of five more strokes before he joins you in sheer bliss. He seizes and grunts deeply as his cum shoots out of his twitching cock to meet the resistance of your already-occupied womb. He was right — there is a lot of it. The viscous white fluid oozes out of you and down along your thighs before the spurts have even finished trickling out of him.

Both pairs of legs between the two of you are shaky as Minho pulls out of your swollen pussy with a slick squelch. He helps straighten your body and pulls you into an adoring hug as you both regain your lost breath. His sweaty chest is nearly as damp as yours as it heaves against your back. You can feel his heart racing.

“You alright, doll?” he checks while dotting sweet kisses along your shoulder. “Was that good?”

“Very good,” you pant with a blissed smile. You turn your head to the side and pucker your mouth for a kiss. Your lower belly is cramping from the intensity of your orgasm, and you massage it absently as Minho’s lips envelop yours. His fingers bump yours as he, too, goes to cradle your stomach.

“How’s our little princess?” he asks next.

“Fine,” you answer. You kiss him deeply and whisper against his mouth: “We’re both just fine, thanks to the daddy.”

---

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#lee know smut #minho smut #lee minho smut #stray kids smut #skz smut #lee know x reader #minho x reader #lee minho x reader #stray kids x reader #skz x reader #wondrous #daizymax

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sluttywonwoo · 1 year

Text

no nut november — felix (loser #6)

pairing: lee felix x fem!reader

warnings: swearing, special guest appearance, jealousy, smut (18+), fwb, protected sex, hard(ish) dom!felix, spit kink, choking, multiple orgasms, orgasm control

a/n: part of @gimmeurtmi and i’s collab <3

word count: 3.6k

series masterlist

No one had expected Felix to last this long, least of all Felix himself. When he woke up to Chan’s text saying he lost, he almost couldn’t believe it. Bang Chan was one of the most competitive members of the group. He honestly thought Chris would have had a little more control.

But Chan’s loss left Felix in the final three, which felt like a big deal. Felix considers himself to be competitive as well, even though he isn’t particularly good at games. He isn’t particularly good at not cumming either, so it’s a miracle that he hasn’t yet. He hadn’t put much stake in the bet at the beginning since he didn’t think he had any chance at winning, anyway, but as more members dropped out and the finish line crept closer, he began to take it more seriously.

He’d even been so careless to have tried to have sex with you at the beginning of the month, convincing himself he could last through it, before pulling out a couple minutes in with a frantic “no no no no no!”

Felix hasn’t taken any risks since then.

You’ve been completely understanding about it, to his relief, and haven’t stopped hanging out with him even though you know you won’t be getting laid like you usually would. That type of behavior is obviously expected from a girlfriend, but you’re not his girlfriend even though he treats you like one and talks about you to the guys as if you are. They all know it’s not official and if Felix refers to you as “his girl” without actually making you his girl one more time, he’s convinced Chan’s gonna slap him. He’d deserve it, to be fair. He’s a coward and he knows it.

You’re not dating, you’re simply friends with benefits and he likes it like that- at least that’s what he tells himself. It takes the pressure off. Even though you’re not exclusive, he’s not fucking anyone else. You are kind of his person in his mind but he would never admit that out loud. He loves spending time with you and going on dates with you and waking up next to you, but at the end of the day he’s a bit of a commitmentphobe. So what if it’s a shitty excuse? He just doesn’t want to fuck up what you guys have going on and lose you completely. Maybe one day he’ll get the balls to have that talk with you, but for now he’s content with the dynamic you already have, that is until the last week of November.

The end of the month is just around the corner and victory is so close he can taste it. He’s been doing so well, resisting the urge to touch you whenever he’s near you. You’re over a lot these days, which he loves but also hates because of how hard you make everything, literally.

You’re in his bed today, dangerous territory already, but Minho and Seungmin were occupying the living space so you had no choice but to hang out in his room. Somehow you’d ended up tangled together beneath his sheets, making out and desperately grabbing at each other. Felix feels you grind into him, feels himself getting harder in response, and realizes he won’t be able to stop if you keep going like this. He’s so tempted to just say fuck it and throw caution to the wind, but he’s so close to winning that he knows he’ll never forgive himself if he gives in now.

Felix forces himself to pull back, breaking the kiss. “We should... probably stop,” he says breathlessly, hating himself for ruining the mood.

You take a moment to process and then push yourself away from him, nodding. “Oh, right. I totally forgot about the bet, I’m sorry.”

“No, no, it’s okay. I’m sorry that we haven’t been able to- that I haven’t been able to you know.”

“Lix, how many times have I told you it’s not a big deal?”

“It’s not fair to you, though. I hate leaving you hanging when you’re horny.” And you seem really horny. You were all up on Felix a few seconds ago, already whimpering into his mouth and tugging at the buttons on his shirt.

You scoff. “It’s not like I’m going to die if I don’t get some dick in the next hour.”

“You’re all worked up now, though, and-”

“I promise you, Felix, it’s fine. I’ll just call Wooyoung to pick me up in like thirty minutes.”

Felix nods before he processes what you’ve said, then it clicks and he whips his head back up to look at you. “Wooyoung? Jung Wooyoung?”

“Mhm.”

“Why would he pick you up when I can just take you back home myself-”

“Lix, he wouldn’t be taking me home...” you trail off a little uncomfortably.

“What, are you guys like fucking or something?”

It’s supposed to be a joke, a suggestion so outlandish that it would break the tension but you don’t laugh. Felix panics.

“Wait, seriously?”

You sit up and cross your arms over your chest. “I mean, not as often as you and I but yeah... we hang out sometimes.”

“And by ‘hang out’, you mean his dick hangs out inside of you?”

“Lee Felix!”

“Sorry! It’s just... this is news to me, that’s all.”

That’s not all, and Felix is afraid you can see right through him but he tries to brush it off anyway.

“Are you okay?” you ask tentatively, reaching for him.

He jerks away from you out of instinct and immediately regrets it. This is not a good look for him and he knows it. He huffs out a breath and takes your hand in apology, squeezing in reassurance.

“Lix... is this going to be a problem?”

“N-no, no it won’t be,” he lies. “Just, will you stay a little longer tonight?”

You soften. “Yeah, of course.”

Felix shifts on the bed and pulls you in close, playing with your hair as you nestle yourself into his side. He thinks back to the last time he saw Wooyoung. It was at some stupid after party for The Fact Awards, just over a month ago. You were Felix’s date, he’d gone to get you both a flute of champagne from the table of refreshments, and when he came back, you were in the middle of conversation with Wooyoung.

Felix didn’t even know you knew each other. If he had, he would have invited you to more of their Strayteez hangouts- any excuse to spend more time with you, honestly.

He approached the two of you and presented you with your drink, placing his newly free hand on the small of your back as he sipped from his glass.

“Felix!” Wooyoung exclaimed and pulled the younger man in for a hug. Felix nearly spilled his champagne down Wooyoung’s back but managed to hold it just out of the way so that only a little bit splashed out onto the floor.

When Wooyoung finally released him, Felix looked between the two of you, trying to connect the dots.

“So how do you guys know each other?” he asked.

You just exchanged looks with Wooyoung and chuckled awkwardly, something Felix hadn’t caught on to at the time.

He feels like an idiot looking back on it. Wooyoung had known this whole time that they were both sleeping with you and never thought to mention it. It was technically none of Felix’s business, but he couldn’t help feeling betrayed by his friend. And Changbin! He was even better friends with Wooyoung than Felix was. He had to have known you were hooking up and also managed to neglect sharing that important piece of information. He would be having words with that man whenever you left and he got back from his girlfriend’s house.

“I’m sorry for not telling you,” you whisper all of the sudden, breaking the silence. “I just didn’t want to hurt your feelings. I know you can be sensitive about these things so-”

“You have nothing to apologize for,” Felix blurts out.

“But-”

“We’re not exclusive or anything and we agreed on that. As long as you’re being safe with him...”

You nod. “You don’t have to worry about that. We use condoms, just like us. No one’s getting an STI.”

Felix hums thoughtfully. He’s honestly relieved that you aren’t letting Wooyoung fuck you raw, not because he’s worried about protection even though that is a concern, but moreso because it would imply you like him more or you’re more serious about him than you are about Felix. It’s a petty victory but a victory nonetheless.

He wraps his arms around you and kisses the top of your head, enjoying the feeling of having you close. It’s not a very ‘friends with benefits’ thing to do so he hopes you don’t mind, but you don’t move away from him which he takes as a good sign.

“Don’t go to his place tonight,” Felix murmurs into your hair. “Let- let me take care of you instead.”

You stiffen in his arms. “But... the bet.”

“I don’t fucking care,” he rasps.

You turn a little more so that you can face him. “Felix, I’ll stay. We don’t have to have sex.”

“I want to,” he insists. “Unless you don’t?”

“No, I want to,” you assure him.

“Are you sure? You’re not just saying that?”

“Positive. I was all over you not even ten minutes ago, remember?”

Felix grins. “I remember, I remember. But things can change, you know?”

“You’re sweet,” you say, kissing the corner of his mouth like you were rewarding him for it.

“I try.”

“So how do you want me?” you ask.

He takes a moment to think about it. “Um, want me on top?”

“Mhm that sounds good.”

“Yeah? You like just laying there and looking pretty? Like me taking control?”

The change in his demeanor makes you whimper, stroking Felix’s ego significantly. He pushes the blankets off of your bodies and rolls on top of you, taking your chin in his hand so that he can force you to look up at him.

You arch to kiss him but he dodges you, smirking and still holding your jaw in place. You pout and try to turn your head to the side to break out of his grasp but he manages to keep his grip, surprising you both. Felix isn’t weak, but it’s usually pretty easy for you to overpower him. When you realize you can’t this time you stop trying, relaxing back into the mattress with a sigh of annoyance.

“Look at me.”

You do, eyes wide and eager. He spreads his fingers until his thumb is resting on one of your cheeks and the rest of his fingers are splayed out across the other, squeezing your face gently to get you to open your mouth.

“C’mon, baby. A little wider.” You obey easily and Felix spits into your mouth. “Swallow. Good girl.”

He’s quick to undress you both so that he can get his head between your legs, needing to taste you after going so long without having you on his tongue. You’re wetter than he expected and he can’t stop himself from groaning at the sight.

“God, baby, making a mess already. Gonna have to change my sheets after this.”

His comment makes you shrink into yourself in embarrassment. “You have no one to blame but yourself for that.”

Felix grins. “I know.”

He makes you cum with his tongue and his fingers twice, feeling a little like he has something to prove after learning that he has competition. He wants to go for another, but his cock is aching at this point and he’s worried he’ll cum his pants before he gets to fuck you if he does.

“Still okay?” he asks, checking in.

“Perfect,” you respond. “You’re so good at that.”

Better than him? Felix wants to ask, but he doesn’t. He’s not entirely sure he wants the answer to the question, not entirely sure he’ll believe you if you tell him what he wants to hear.

“Are you good to keep going?”

“Yes, please fuck me already.”

Felix chuckles. “Always so impatient.”

“You would be too if you knew how good your dick is.”

He curses, dick twitching. “You always know just what to say, don’t you?”

“I try,” you parrot.

Felix gets up on his knees and reaches over to his bedside table. He opens the first drawer and pulls out a condom, bringing the foil packet to his teeth to rip it open when you suddenly reach out to stop him.

“Let me?” you ask.

“Yeah, baby. Go ahead.”

He hands it to you and watches as you do the same thing he was about to. You take the condom out of the wrapper and hand the trash back to Felix. He scoffs but accepts it anyway and tosses it in the bin that was easily within your reach without complaint.

You pull his boxers down just below his butt, just enough to get his cock out, and roll on the condom, jerking him a few times before you do. You’ve never done this for him before and it all feels very intimate. His breath catches in his throat when you touch him for the first time and he shudders. He makes himself stay very still as you work. One wrong move and he’ll cum all over your hand and ruin everything.

He’s in awe of how careful you are with it. You gently guide the material down his length, making sure that the elastic doesn’t accidentally pinch him in the process.

“That feel okay?” you ask once it’s on all the way.

“Mhm. Now come here.”

He hooks his hands under your thighs and pulls, yanking you forward and making your head fall back onto the pillow. Once your body is flush with his, he positions himself and guides his cock inside of you, holding his breath yet again as his name falls from your lips in a strained whisper.

God, this was a mistake. He’s going to embarrass himself, isn’t he? Why did he think this was a good idea? Why did he let his jealousy color his judgment? It wasn’t even about the bet anymore. He already knew he wouldn’t last when he decided to fuck you. He wasn’t that naive.

No, it was the fact that his pride was on the line and it’s taking all of his strength and willpower not to cum on the spot. It’s been weeks since he’s felt you, felt anything for that matter, obviously it was going to feel incredible.

Felix always cums faster than he wants to when he’s with you. The (literal) grip your pussy has on him is ridiculous. Does Wooyoung have this problem? Honestly, probably. Felix likes to think that anyone in his position would struggle.

“Fuck, fuck, don’t move,” Felix pleads. “Just. Stay like that. One second.”

You start to nod before remembering what ‘don’t move’ means and then freeze in place, mild concern replacing the lust reflected in your eyes.

“I’m fine,” he grunts out and closes his eyes, willing the feeling to pass.

“Are you sure?”

“I’m s-sure.”

He can tell you don’t believe him but you don’t press any further which he’s thankful for. You wait patiently for him to recompose himself and when he finally does, he asks you if he’s good to start moving.

“Yeah, give it to me.”

“Careful what you ask for.”

You roll your eyes and wrap your legs around his waist, forcing him deeper inside of you with a smirk. Brat.

“Behave,” he warns.

“Or what?” you challenge, raising your eyebrows.

“Do you really want to go there?”

You shrug indifferently. “Haven’t decided. Now, are you going to fuck me or what?”

He has to cover your mouth with his hand when he starts snapping his hips into yours, forgetting about how loud you get when you’re this worked up.

“Baby, we’re not home alone, you have to be quiet,” he hisses, even though he’d much rather hear all your pretty sounds.

“Feels too good,” you whine. “Fuck me harder, Lix! Please, harder...”

“Harder? Gonna break you in half if I go any harder.”

“Yes, yes, break me in half,” you sob. “It’s been so long. Missed this so much.”

“Will you be good and stay quiet for me if I give you what you want?”

You nod. “I can be good.”

“Are you lying?”

You hesitate. “Maybe.”

Felix laughs coldly and shakes his head in disbelief.

“But not because I don’t want to be good!” you protest. “I just can’t help it.”

“I know, baby,” he coos condescendingly. “Can’t even think straight when you’re so fucked out like this, isn’t that right?”

“Uh-huh.”

The change in dynamic is almost comical. Mere minutes ago, Felix could barely move without cumming, too lost in the feeling of your hot cunt to concentrate. Now, you’re the one gasping for air and clawing at his back like an animal. Even Felix is surprised by the amount of self-control he’s exerting. He’s using it to his advantage though, taking the opportunity to thoroughly ruin you like you deserve.

Even if you’re completely silent, the sounds coming from Felix’s room are obscene and anyone that walks by would immediately know what you were up to. Seungmin or Minho had probably already texted the groupchat announcing Felix’s loss but he didn’t care. All he wanted was to make you feel better than Wooyoung ever could.

“Does he fuck you like this? Huh?” Felix is wandering into dangerous territory, he knows, but he can’t help asking. He needs to know. “Does he make you feel this good? Cum this hard?”

“No!” you cry. “No, he doesn’t!”

“Be honest,” he growls, wrapping his hand around your throat. He only applies a little pressure, just enough to make you lightheaded the way you like.

“I am! I’m being honest, I promise.”

“That’s what I thought.”

“Lix, ‘m gonna... gonna cum,” you whine.

“Who told you you could do that?”

Your eyes get wide at his response, bottom lip trembling. “What?”

“Who gave you permission to cum?” Felix demands. He’s right there on the edge himself so he doesn’t really know why he’s dragging it out, but he just wants to see you squirm a little more.

Thankfully, you’re quick to adapt to the new rules. “Can I? Can I please cum? I need it, baby. Please make me cum... please tell me I can. I’m not gonna be able to stop myself if you don’t...”

The desperation in your eyes does something for him, and knowing he can’t hold back any longer, he relents. “Go ahead. Be a good girl and cum for me, baby.”

He’s only halfway through the sentence when your body locks up and you scream his name, gushing around his cock. If he’d waited any longer you wouldn’t have been able to obey him. He helps you ride it out by rubbing your clit and fucking you through it, letting his own orgasm wasm over him as you’re still clenching around him.

“Oh god, I’m cumming. I’m cumming, fuck!” he groans, making a last ditch effort to stop it before it happens. But his efforts are in vain because it’s too late and he’s cumming into the condom so hard his vision whites out.

When he starts to come down, you’re still weakly rocking your hips into his, whimpering with every thrust.

Felix winces at the oversensitivity but doesn’t stop you. With how long it’s been since he last got off it won’t be long until he’s hard again.

“Insatiable tonight, aren’t you?” he muses. “Came three times and still want more.”

You frown and try to get yourself to stop without much success. It’s like your hips are moving on their own accord. “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be. Want you to be satisfied.”

“God, you’re so good to me,” you moan and wrap your arms around Felix’s neck, making his chest feel tight all of the sudden.

“It’s what you deserve.”

He doesn’t have enough energy to hold himself up above you properly so he has you roll over onto your side so that he can slip himself inside of you and you can fuck yourself back against him that way.

While you’re doing that, Felix feels around the bed for his phone, grabbing it when he feels it under one of his pillows.

Like he predicted, he doesn’t even have to announce his loss because his roommates did it for him.

Min: Felix lost

Chris: what? how do you know?

Seungmin: we heard it happening :/

Min: and we’re traumatized

Innie: thank god i wasn’t home

Felix: you guys could have LEFT. you didn’t HAVE to listen!!!! btw changbin i need to talk to you

Min: oh no not his government name. someone’s in troubleeee

Binnie: um. 0.0 should i be worried

Felix doesn’t respond right away, wanting to make Changbin sweat a little for the trouble he’d put him through.

He puts his phone on his bedside table so he doesn’t lose it in his bedding again and turns his attention back to you. The oversensitivity had started to bleed together with pleasure and Felix could feel his cock getting stiff again. He groans and buries his face in your shoulder, inhaling the scent of your shampoo.

There was still a lot to talk about with you. He needed to address his feelings, be honest about everything. But for now...

“Round two?”

nnn tags: @doesthismeannothingtoyou @yellowroses-world @allyoops @thelostverse @karlitaburrito @lydataylorsversion @septemberkisses @caticorn61 @multifandomtrash-dree @cixrosie @mchslut @cutiequokka @fairygemss @multistancheck @lady—-boner @stay-bi @compersian @raspbinniecreme @skzgallll @strawberriesandknives @laylasbunbunny @goddessofhiddenpleasures @brit97 @jonaticdragon @linobuns @vampcharxter

#no nut november #no nut november stray kids #nnn skz #stray kids smut #skz smut #stray kids x reader #skz x reader #felix smut #felix x reader #flashing tw #lee felix smut #lee yongbok smut #yongbok smut #stray kids x female reader #stray kids x y/n #stray kids x you

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theemporium · 1 year

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hi cece! how have you been? could you write something with Sirius being super shy with reader? I think it would be really fun and cute to see him getting all shy and flustered for once since he usually is so extroverted and flirty! I’m just melting thinking about saying “such a pretty boy” to him and he going mute and his cheeks going all pink and adorable!

hiya baby! i am good, thank you! this was so cute, thank you for requesting!🖤

Lily Evans had truly never been more baffled than she was by the sight in front of her.

She had known Sirius Black since they had first stepped foot into Hogwarts. She had seen him over the years, gotten to know him in the more recent ones and never once—not a single time in those years—had she ever quite seen him like this.

“How are you not shocked by this?” she hissed through clenched teeth to her boyfriend.

James lifted his head, catching what the redhead was looking at before he snorted and shrugged. “Because it’s nothing new.”

Her head spun to him. “What?”

“Sirius is always like that with her,” James told her with a laugh. “Always has been, probably always will be. His brain just stops working around her or something.”

“How come he doesn’t ask her out?” Lily asked, watching the two of you from across the room where you were huddled over the cauldron you were sharing for this potions class.

At that, James only laughed harder. “Have you seen him, Evans? He doesn’t even know his own name around her!”

And it was true. So unfortunately and pathetically true but Sirius couldn’t seem to actually remember how to talk to people whenever you were in a close vicinity to him, let alone his own goddamn name. The first time you had asked him, it took Remus holding back his own laughs to introduce him to you. It was an embarrassing moment that lived on a loop in his head.

“Can you pass me that?” you asked, your eyes focused on your potions textbook whilst his eyes were focused on you.

He blinked. “Huh?”

“The root,” you waved aimlessly in the direction of a selection of plants you had laid out earlier before you began brewing when he was ogling you. “It’s for the next step.”

“Right,” Sirius said and cleared his throat as he looked over the plants, eyebrows furrowed together as he tried to remember just which plant root you needed for the potion but he came up blank.

You lifted your head when you noticed the boy had fallen unreasonably quiet—more so than he usually was with you, despite what others insisted—and smiled a little at his confused expression. “Need some help?”

Sirius’ head snapped around, his face heating up as he flashed you a sheepish smile. “Yeah, I have no idea which one we need.”

“You’re lucky you have a pretty face, Black,” you teased as you reached across him, your arm brushing against his chest as you grabbed what you needed and plopped it into the cauldron.

“I, you…uh, you think I’m pretty?” Sirius spluttered out, his nose scrunching a little at how pathetically the question came out his mouth.

You raised your brows in amusement. “Fishing for compliments?”

Sirius’ eyes widened. “No! No, not at all! I didn’t mean it like that, I just—”

You placed your hand on his arm and the boy quickly fell silent. “Hey, calm down, I was messing with you.”

He was pretty sure his face, neck and ears were all red. “Right.”

“You do look cute when you blush though,” you commented with a grin before you turned back to the potion.

Sirius gaped at you for a moment before a massive grin broke out on his face, the giddiness staying with him long after the lesson ended and you waved him goodbye, his stomach bursting with butterflies as he eagerly awaited his next potions class with you.

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josibunn · 7 months

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you guys won’t BELIEVE who won the poll! jk I knew you guys would pick euro :3 I love writing for him!

nsfw R!Euronymous hcs!!

tl: @vanlisbon @cc-luvrr @monkeyfart @444rockstargf @bambi-horror @u1traer0tic @auggiethecreator

euronymous who didn’t know how to give head until he met you. like, at all. he didn’t even lie to you, he just told you straight up. and being the hood gf you are, you taught him :3. he was being so good for you, so eager to please, resting his head on your thigh with his hair pinned up, looking at you. you nod and watch him hover over your cunt, soft breath tickling you and making you clench around nothing. you’d already told him what felt good to you, but you just wanted to see if he’d listen. he was so excited hearing you moan under him, your back arching and thighs squeezing his head, which he quickly pulled back apart as he dug you out. and he got cocky FAST, giving you orgasm after orgasm until you were LITERALLYYYYY pulling him off, begging him to stop.

euronymous who always handles you after a gig, even though he’s so sleepy and worn out :(. he bear hugging you while your arms are wrapping around his shoulders, back arching off the bed and legs in the air. he’s plowing into you, hugging you making up stiff other than your lower half jerking violently, moaning out in his ear and for everyone in your tiny apartment building to hear. you were babbling, as he speaks in that sleepy, sore voice he always has after a show. you feel your third—no, fourth orgasm of the night since he’s came home. “they fuckin’ loved me, did you hear baby?” he breaths, knowing you can barely respond, he felt you clench, knowing you were close with him.

euronymous who just knows your body better than you do, he forbids you from masturbating and even throws out your toys because he knows you don’t need them, telling you “i’m everything you need.” he comes home catching you fingering yourself, sprawled out on the bed and your head thrown back, desperately trying to create the feeling he gave you many times before, but he was right, he did know your body best :(. he creeps into the room when he hears you from downstairs, whining and moaning. you expect him to be gone much longer but he left early to check up on you, and he’s glad he did. “baby,” he cooes and startles you, making you close your legs. “I was only gone for two hours, what happened?” he faux pouts, sitting next to you and rubbing your thighs. before you can even speak he’s tucking his hair behind his ears and digging you out with his tongue. you’re grateful, but you don’t know he’s gonna snatch orgasm and orgasm from you because you decided to disobey him :’(

euronymous who will fuck you anywhere. in the office, the den, the front counter, the van, backstage, anywhere. hell do it with people over. hell, he’s fucked you over a three four story hotel room balcony once, just because he can, and he knows how scared you get. you gasp, feeling his hand grab the back of your neck and push you further over the ledge, the cold breeze of the night hitting your face. you moan out when he starts pounding into you harder, pushing you further and you grab onto the ledge, fear shooting through you. “euronymous. —gasp—euronymous no! stop!” you moan, shutting your eyes and clenching down on him out of fear, and he groans. he loves it, he loves it so much. “cmon baby,” he lets out a throaty chuckle, “views so pretty, such a big city ain’t it?” he’s smirking, you can tell. you push back onto him to try and go back on the balcony, but it only sends you over the edge, your body falling weak against the railing. “cmon sugar, tighten up. let everyone know how fucking good I make you feel.”

euronymous who’s so loud when doing anything remotely sexual. whether it’s praise, degrading, moaning and groaning, he’s just so loud. and whenever you’re somehwere you’re not supposed to you two have to hold each others mouth shut bc best believe you’re the exact same. you’re at his parents. he’s supposed to be letting your mom show you his old band days, but you’re against his bathroom wall, legs wrapped around his waist as he pounds into you, rasping in your ear as you try n suppress your moans against his hand. can you blame him? you just look so so cute in your modest little sundress with teeny tiny flowers on it. his mom adored it, and øystein couldn’t take his eyes off of it. “fucking fuck baby, oh my god,” his eyes rolls back as he watched his cock disappear into you, he’s babbling, so worked up from just the sight of you. “don’t even know why you thought i’d keep ca—” you slap a hand over his mouth, hearing footsteps, moreso the clacking of heels. his eyes are locked on yours as he steadies his thrusts, trying to keep quiet.

that being said, euronymous with a praise kink. sometimes it’s not even sexual, it could be a “aww thank you baby!! you’re so good to me,” when he gets something you’ve been eyeing, but it’s usually when he’s deep inside you, knocking the fucking wind out of you and making you babble like a bitch in heat. you just do something to him, he can’t help it :(. “oh m’fucking god baby, hah, ahh baby,” you moan out, feeling him press against your tummy as you near your umpteenth orgasm of the night, eyes rolling back and mouth hung open, body limp and unable to hold him off even comprehend what he was doing anymore. “øystein, oh fuck it-it’s so good, so much I can’t take it,” you whine, back arching as you felt your legs shake. he’s quiet the whole time, taking in the mess he was making out of you. it drove him insane, each “baby i’m-i’m gonna cum!” just made him hornier for you, you had a love hate relationship with it.

euronymous who will fix that attitude you have anywhere, whether it be at a gig, alone, or out with people. and you’re just so nasty that of course it turns you on, making you all stupid and fuzzy. “hey, cmere.” he snaps his finger, he wasn’t asking anymore. you’d been so bratty at his big listening party, sassing him, rolling your eyes, pushing him away, it was embarrassing him in front of his circle, and he was fed up. you roll your eyes again and this time he grabs your cheeks harshly, making you whimper as he brought you behind the counter. “the fucks the matter with you, hm? been a bitch to me all night.” he asks but you just stare at him with that pout, arms crossed. he grabs your throat and slaps you across the face and thankfully, the music was loud enough for anyone to not hear. you gasp and hold onto his wrist, shutting your eyes for the next blow. “I asked you a question, what you don’t wanna listen to me? you don’t like me anymore?” you shake your head, “speak up, cmon.” “i do..” “then why’re your bein’ mean t’me, hm? where’s my good girl? it’s a big night for me.” hes talking to u in that voice that he knows makes you all crumbly and stupid, your head foggy and eyes glossy. he rubs your cheek before slapping you again, “i’m not gonna do it with you tonight. get it together, ok?” “y-yes..” “yes who, don’t play dumb with me. who’re you talkin’ to?” “yes daddy,” you say nervously, looking around to see if anyone was watching since he still had you by the neck. you rub your thighs together as he kisses your cheek, “good, there she is, cmon.”

I got a little carried away sorry😭 n sorry this was so late omg!! I have nails on and it’s so hard to type with them. I hope you enjoyed!! mwah mwah mwah

#rory culkin #x black reader #rory culkin smut #euronymous smut #lords of chaos #lords of chaos smut #euronymous #eurory prompt

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futuremrsreid · 1 year

Text

Redemption (S.R.)

Summary: When Spencer risks his life on a case and doesn't want to see how dangerous it was, reader tries to talk some sense into him. It results in a lot of yelling and some other things.

A/N: So..... smutty angst, as promised <3 I hurt myself while writing this. Enjoy.

Content Warning: Smut (18+), very very mildly dubious consent, a bit of dark Spencer but he's just traumatized, angst, sad, dominant Spencer, kinda sub reader

Word Count: 4,1k

I was pissed. Actually, pissed didn’t even begin to describe the rage I felt at that moment.

We were currently in Florida, hunting another psychopathic bastard as always. Everything was fine and under control, up until the moment Dr. Spencer fucking Reid decided it would be a good idea to drive to the unsubs location alone because he was “closest to him” and because we “didn’t have time” and nearly got himself killed in the process. Luke and I had arrived just in time to prevent disaster, but Spencer still got a few bruises on his face.

I was furious and let him feel it by yelling at him while he was getting checked out in the ambulance. But like always, my yelling resulted in his yelling. We went at it for a couple of minutes but Emily put a stop to it before it got really bad, concerned about the reporters at the scene who already started to take a few pictures of us.

:keep reading:

We didn’t talk or look at each other for the rest of the case. Emily let Spencer get away with it because everything turned out fine, but I was not feeling gracious.

When Garcia informed us that there was a storm that would delay our flight for the next couple of hours, Emily decided that we should just spend another night in the city and fly back in the morning. We all drove back to the hotel and when we arrived, I was on Spencer's heels all the way from the car to his room. He didn’t even try to stop me, he knew there was no point to it.

“That was so fucking irresponsible, Spencer! What were you thinking”, I started to yell as soon as I had closed the door behind me. I wanted to say “stupid” instead of “irresponsible” but decided against it. I wanted him to understand that he can’t do shit like this, and not insult him.

“It worked out fine, y/n. I don’t understand why you’re getting yourself worked up over this!” He rubbed his hand over the side of his face, clearly done listening to me.

“It only worked out fine because Luke broke like every rule you can break in traffic to get to the scene as fast as possible!”

“Oh right, Luke, my hero. I should go thank him, don’t you think?” he chuckled humorlessly and rolled his eyes.

“Maybe! He’s the reason you’re not dead.” I tried lowering my voice. This wasn’t our first fight, and I have learned in the past that screaming won’t help.

“I would have been fine! I had it under control, y/n. God, just leave me alone”, he spat and I felt a stabbing in my chest at the way he didn’t want to see how much danger he put himself in.

This wasn’t the first time he risked his life like that and I hated it. All of us hated it. Spencer seemed drawn to dangerous situations, it had been that way when I joined the team and from stories the others told me, it had been this way before that.

When I met Spencer, he was freshly out of Prison. They hired me together with Matt after Agent Walker died. The first time I saw him, I knew I had to befriend him. What I didn’t know was how easy it would be and how much easier it would be to fall in love with him.

I tried to push it down, to get rid of it, scared that it would ruin everything, but there was no way of falling out of love with him, which made the situation even harder. Spencer didn’t seem to realize how much he hurt me whenever he risked his life like this. I wasn’t even sure he realized how much I cared about him.

“I’m not going to leave until you admit that you were wrong.”

“Well, this is going to be a long night then, because that’s never gonna happen.” He turned and walked away from me, removing his suit jacket and draping it over one of the chairs in his room. I sighed.

“Spencer, you need to stop risking your life like this. You're gonna get yourself killed”, I pleaded, but it fell on deaf ears. I tried to get him to look at me, but he avoided my eyes. “Please. I can’t lose you and especially not like that.”

“The day will come when you and the rest of the team realize that this is exactly the way it is supposed to end for me. Dying in the field would be an honorable death. It’s the only redemption I will ever get.”

“What?”, I breathed and my heart stopped for a moment, “What do you mean, Spencer?”

“I meant what I said.”

“Redemption? What redemption, Spence? You don’t need any, you haven’t done anything wrong.” I was confused and hurt by the way he said it. It sounded almost suicidal.

“Yes, I have. I have done horrible things in my life, y/n. I will never be able to make up for them.”

“You don’t have to! Everyone makes mistakes. You are a good person Spencer. You’re kind and gentle, you saved hundreds of lives in your career, you don’t need to make up for anything.” I tried to get through to him, but it was like I was hitting a wall.

“Prison changed me, it turned me into a different man. I’m not nearly as gentle or kind as I used to be.”

“I don’t know you any other way. I almost can’t imagine you being even more gentle than you are now. I don’t think anyone can be.”

“I was though”, he countered almost immediately, still unable to look at me, “I think you would have liked the man I was. He was gentler, kinder, and more deserving of you than I could ever be now.” He didn’t even sound sad when he said it, almost like he had accepted his truth from the moment he met me.

“You know, you talk about yourself like you are the worst man in the world”, I said in an accusatory tone.

“Am I not?”, Spencer scoffed, raising his voice slightly while going on, “We hunt terrible men every day but in the end, how different am I from them? What makes me a good man and them a bad one, y/n?” He was almost yelling now, stunning me for a moment too long. When I didn’t reply, he turned to finally look at me. “Tell me y/n, what is it about me that convinces you I’m not every bit as bad as them?” The desperate look on his face made me take a step toward him but for every step I took, he stepped two back.

“Spencer, I-” My voice faltered and I didn’t know what to say. I knew he wasn’t anything like them but I wasn’t able to find any words that would convince him. When my mouth stayed open but no words left it, he took my silence as an invitation to go on.

“I almost killed Cat Adams, did JJ ever tell you that?” He spat, walking over to me and pushing me back until I hit the wall.

“I put my hands around her throat and choked her until she was clawing at my wrists. And I didn’t stop then”, he moved even closer to me and I was unable to move away, the words leaving his mouth freezing me into place, “I told her that I was going to kill her and I meant it. I would have strangled her if JJ hadn’t pulled me off her.” He moved even closer, his voice dropping to a whisper. “Her eyes were filled with fear, and you know what? I enjoyed it, y/n. I loved the way I scared her, the way she struggled for her life against me.”

He leaned in and I felt his breath ghost over my ear when he said the last words of his cruel monologue. “So tell me, y/n. Tell me how different I am from those men.”

He stayed where he was, his hands at his side and his mouth grazing my ear. He was trying to intimidate me with his speech and to be honest, he would have convinced me if it hadn’t been for the way his nose brushed against my hair, inhaling my scent like he was convinced this was the last chance he ever had to commit it to memory.

“You can’t scare me with your words, Spencer. If you want me to believe how terrible of a person you are, you’re gonna have to show me because I will never believe it otherwise.” He probably calculated every possible outcome of this situation, but when he pulled back to look at me, I knew that he didn’t expect me to respond like this.

“Cat Adams is a monster who had you tortured and assaulted. She kidnapped your mother. Do you really expect me to feel bad for her? I never even met her. If you want to scare me away, you’re gonna have to do better than that.”

There was a long moment of silence where we just watched each other. I thought I managed to break through to him for a second, but Spencer was on a mission to make me despise him, and he was determined to make it happen. His eyes darkened and he straightened up, towering over me.

I felt a sliver of doubt about my faith in him at that moment and he must have seen it cross my eyes because when I lifted a hand to push him back, he harshly grabbed my wrist and spun me around, using his body to push me against the wall. My arm was twisted behind my back and when I started to struggle out of pure instinct he took my other wrist in his hand and held both my arms behind my back, resulting in me being pushed more into the hard surface, my cheek flush against the wall.

When the shock had left me, I opened my mouth to ask him what the fuck he was doing, but Spencer was faster than me. He took his other hand and held it over my mouth.

“Do you believe me now?”, he whispered in my ear and I felt my pulse quickening. “You are so fucking naive y/n and honestly, you’re a little stupid too. What the fuck makes you think I would never hurt you, huh? You don’t know me.”

It was those last words that took me back to reality because I did know him. I knew the way he brought everyone on the team their favorite food when they were sad. I knew the way his voice got an octave higher when he started talking about something that excited him.

I knew the way he recited his favorite poems when I struggled to go to sleep after a tough case.

He won't hurt me.

He would never hurt me.

He would never do something like this.

So, against every instinct in my body, I tried to calm my heart down and closed my eyes. I tried to speak but his hand on my mouth didn’t let me so I jerked my head back and stunned him with my sudden movement long enough to say a few words I knew he definitely didn't want to hear.

“You are all talk Spencer Reid. You would never hurt me and we both know that”, my voice was louder than I had expected and I felt his hand tighten around my wrists, “You can push me against the wall and insult me and tell me the terrible things you could do to me all you want but we both know that you would never lay a hand on me without my permission and you would never hurt someone who didn’t deserve it.”

His hand loosened and I used this opportunity to free myself of his grip and turn around. He was angry that his plan didn’t work and I saw his hands twitch with restraint, but I wasn’t scared of him.

He had just proved to me that he was the man I knew he was.

“You’re not an abuser, you’re not a rapist-”

“Shut up.”

“- and you’re not a murderer. That’s what makes you different Spencer.”

“I said shut up!”, he yelled and I did the only thing I knew to do in response to that. I yelled back.

“Or what, Spencer? Are you gonna pin me against the wall and put your hand against my mouth again like the bad person you are, huh?” Spencer got angrier and more frustrated with every word I was saying but I was determined to speak my mind, “You’re gonna shut me up like the scary man you are, Dr. Reid? You’re gonna-” But I didn’t get further than that because in a heartbeat he forced me back against the wall again with his hands on both my cheeks and his lips pressed against mine.

He pulled back, “Please y/n, please shut up”, and the desperate tone in his voice awakened something primal in me.

“If you want me to shut up, you’re gonna have to make me because I will never stop trying to convince you that you are a good man, Spencer.” When he didn’t say anything I went on. “You are kind and gentle and-”

He kissed me again, and this time I kissed him back until I wasn’t able to breathe anymore. His kisses wandered to my neck then.

“You say I am a good man, but you don’t know the things I thought about doing to you”, he bit the skin on my neck then and I gasped, which seemed to spur him on further, “I want to pin you down and fuck you until you’re crying. I want to make you feel so good that you can’t take it anymore.”

His kisses moved up my neck and to my ear. “ I want to break you into a thousand pieces and put you back together again. I want to ruin you for everyone else, I want to lock you in so that no man can ever look at you again and at the same moment I want to show you off to the entire world because you are the best thing in my life. I want to take you and make you mine”, he cried out, holding my hips in a bruising grip.

“Then take me, Spencer. Take me, break me, ruin me, I don’t care. I am already yours. I have been yours since the moment I met you.” He looked me in the eyes then, searching for any lies, any doubt, and when he didn’t find any, he kissed me another time.

“Say it again”, he demanded and let his hands travel down my body.

“I am yours, Spencer.”

“Again.” His hands roughly shoved up my skirt, his breath warm on my neck.

“I’m yours.” When his hand brushed against the damp panties I was wearing, I sucked in a breath.

“Again.”

“I’m yours, Spencer. Only yours. Now please do something.” My plea seemed to finally push him over the edge because a second later he was moving the cotton aside and his fingers met wet skin.

He told me “Again.” over and over again, but the longer his fingers were moving inside of me, and the louder the sounds of my pleasure got, the more his demanding turned into begging and it wasn’t until I felt my orgasm wash over me, that he stopped our back and forth to press his lips against mine once more.

My legs were trembling when he removed his hand from my cunt and the way he looked at me while bringing the same fingers that were inside of me moments ago to my lips didn’t help steady them.

He didn’t need to say anything, I knew exactly what he wanted. I don’t think he was quite prepared for the sight before him when my lips accepted his fingers and my tongue swirled around them though, because Spencer's eyes became even more feral at it.

“Fuck.” He removed his fingers and in only a few seconds removed my shirt, took off my bra, and had my skirt on the floor. I tried taking off his clothes too, but when my fingers started to unbutton his shirt, he gripped my wrists and walked me over to the bed.

“If I had known that our fight would end in us having sex, I would have waited until we had something better available than a cheap hotel bed”, I breathed out a laugh. I figured he’d laugh as well but he returned a soft “Do you want to stop?”

“God no, but this bed is gonna squeak really loudly”, and this time I was met with a laugh. He didn’t interrupt when I started another attempt to undress him. When I was done with his shirt he finally raised his hands to touch me again and my whole body shivered when his palms made contact with my breasts. Feeling my erect nipples on his skin must have awoken yet another thing in him because the next thing I knew he was throwing me onto the bed. I didn’t even have time for a shocked gasp before he was on me, pinning my wrists down on the mattress.

“You know when I told you I want to ruin you”, he said while letting his hands travel down my body to grip the waistband of my panties, “I really did mean it.” And with that, he ripped the cotton apart and threw it to the side.

He continued to deny me any time for a reaction when he grabbed my thighs and pulled me towards him. His hips took their very rightful place between my thighs and pressed against me.

We both moaned when his covered bulge pressed against wet and hot skin.

“Beg me to fuck you, y/n.” I think he was expecting me to hesitate, but I was desperate for him to touch me.

“Please fuck me, Spencer,” I moaned and ran my nails down his back.

“Huh, I thought you would put up more of a fight, to be honest.” He sounded disappointed, but his eyes told me that he was relieved I wanted this just as much as he did.

“Do you want me to?”, I still asked, wanting to give him everything he yearned for.

“Another time. I think we dragged this out long enough for today”, he said and with that, he took off his underwear and I got to see all of him for the first time. I knew he would be beautiful, and it applied to any part of him, but I couldn’t fully conceal my shock at the length of him.

And that smug bastard smirked. “Don’t worry darling, we'll make it fit.”

And with that, he moved back between my thighs and lined himself up with my entrance. I expected him to at least try and tease me a little but he started to push inside me immediately.

We locked eyes while we both felt inch after inch of him sink inside of me. It was intense, erotic and so intimate that I felt the urge to look away. He must have felt it too, because when he was fully buried inside of me, his lips pressed against mine in a bruising way.

When he started to move and his lips started their way down to my jaw and neck, I completely lost it, moans and whimpers flowing from my mouth in a volume that even surprised myself. Spencer thrust harder and deeper the louder I became.

“I know you were worried about the bed being too loud, but I’m pretty sure your moans are covering that sound up pretty successfully, angel”, he panted with a labored breath and heat rose to my cheeks. I was trying to remember if any of our coworkers shared any walls with Spencers' room, but he was literally fucking me stupid so I just removed a hand from his back and bit down on my fingers, hoping no one has heard yet. When Spencer saw, he slowed down. He reached down the side of the bed and lifted up my torn panties, and then proceeded to remove my finger from my mouth to push the cotton in its place. “There, now you won't have to hurt your finger”, and with that, he picked up a brutal pace again.

He was muffling his own moans by pressing his mouth onto my shoulder, no doubt leaving behind a dozen of hickeys. He was losing it, I could feel it in the way he pushed his fingers into my hips and the muscles in his back tensing. I wasn’t doing much better, my thighs were trembling and my panties were barely concealing my noises anymore. The room smelt like sweat and sex, Spencer’s skin was hot on mine and I never felt more whole in my life. I could feel my orgasm building inside of me.

“Touch yourself for me, angel. I want you to come with me.” I didn’t hesitate and started rubbing circles over my clit. It only took a few moments until my orgasm washed over my entire body and Spencer quickly ripped my gag from my mouth to kiss me. My thighs and cunt clenching around him, pulling him into me as deep as humanly possible, must have pushed him over the edge because after a few more strokes he stilled at my deepest point and came.

He released my lips from his and put his forehead on mine so we could both catch our breaths. It was quiet for a few minutes. I could feel his cum dripping out of me between our bodies and spared a quick thought to the poor person that would have to clean these sheets. I couldn’t bring myself to care though, not with the way he kissed my skin and nuzzled his face into my neck. I moved a hand to his hair to run my fingers through it, the strands curling once again from sweat wetting them.

“Tell me again.” He spoke so softly I almost didn’t hear, and I’m not sure I was supposed to. It took me a moment to realize what he meant but when I did, I moved my mouth to whisper in his ear.

“I’m yours, Spencer. As long as you’ll have me.”

“Forever then?”, he pulled away to look at me, but before I could answer, there was a knock at the door.

“Ayo Spencer, are you and y/n still fighting? We decided to go to a bar a few blocks away, but you’re only allowed to come if you don’t put us all in a pissy mood”, Luke's voice seeped through the door. I could feel Spencer trying to come up with a reply but before he had a chance, I spoke up.

“Actually, Luke, we’re still in the middle of fighting and I don’t think you want either of us there with you right now.” I tried to sound mad and I must have been convincing enough because even Spencer furrowed his brows at the tone in my voice. I smiled at him and trailed a hand up his arm to reassure him that I was just putting up a show.

“Well, okay just… Try to remember you two are friends and don’t actually want to kill each other”, he replied almost nervously. Damn, we must have really worried the team with our fight this time.

When we heard his footsteps moving away, Spencer started to detangle us from each other. He was still inside of me and when he pulled out, I sighed at the empty feeling it left behind.

“I’m gonna get something to clean you up.” He tried to stand up but he didn’t get very far before I pulled him back. I held his face in my hands and made sure he was looking at me when I said the words I know he desperately needed to hear.

“Forever.”

#spencer reid #criminal minds #spencer reid smut #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid reader

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straykeedz · 7 months

Text

day 18: lee know + lactation kink

©straykeedz

tw: established relationship!au; pregnancy!au; reader feels insecure about her breasts; nipple play; female orgasm but sort of cumming untouched; this is pretty soft for a kinktober fic tbh; ♡

wc: 2,4k;

🔖 (open): @linos-kitten ; @luneskies ; @kxcies-blog ; @idunnomanmynamewastaken ; @cessixja ; @stolasisyourparent ; @kookiesbunny ; @xoxo-xoxo-bunny ; @ivyskzsworld ; @mal-lunar-28 ; @leetaste ; @sunnykynnie ; @channiesgoodgirl ; @seonghwatoothless ; @mrsminho ; @seungminluv3 ; @jin-from-the-block ; @aaasia111 ; @sulkygyu ; @whosanaanyway ; @y-ur--I ; @vixensss ; @nightimescapes ; @freckleboilix ; @dreamingaboutjisung ; @yourbeomiebear ; ♡

to make sure i add you to the taglist, your age must be clearly visible on your profile. also, empty blogs will not be added - add at least a profile picture to your blog so that i’ll know you’re not a bot. ♡

smut below the cut, minors dni.

☘︎

You let out a heavy sigh, not pleased with what you see reflected in the bedroom mirror.

The problem is - your boobs are huge and heavy, definitely not sexy in your opinion, and you can’t fit them in any of your tops or even t-shirts by now. You’re perfectly aware that with pregnancy come changes - in your life, in your mind, in your body. Everything changes, and as you look at your reflection, you can’t pretend that it hasn’t affected you.

What makes things a hundred times worse is that you know Minho, your husband, loves your boobs the way they were. He’s told you when you first started dating and you’d confessed to him that you were insecure about having the size of your breasts - from that moment on, he practically started worshipping them, reminding you every chance he got of how perfect they are. “The perfect size for me”, he’d said while cupping them in his hands.

And now they are… big, heavy, full, and definitely not the perfect size for Minho, you’re afraid. What if he won’t like your body once you’ve given birth to your child? What if he’ll stop being attracted to you?

“What are you doing?” Minho’s voice startles you, making your body jolt. “Sorry, love, I didn’t mean to startle you.”, he murmurs in your ear, wrapping his arms around your round belly and placing a kiss on your temple.

You are now both reflected in the mirror - Minho enveloping you in a soft hug, one hand on your belly, gently caressing the baby bump as a wide smile spreads on his face. “You look so beautiful, my love.”

Those words make tears well up in your eyes almost instantly. Minho can see the shift of expression on your face in the mirror, so he gently turns your body around, concerned with your reaction. “Woah, what’s up, love? What’s wrong?”, he caresses your cheek with his fingers, brushing a lock of hair from your face.

That’s what it takes for you to break down, and before you could stop yourself - you’re already crying, sobbing even harder once he pulls you in for a tight hug as his soft hands caress your back. “It’s - it’s just…”, you stutter, incapable of stopping the tears.

“Shh, it’s okay love, it’s okay.”, he soothes you, placing a soft kiss on your forehead. “Come here.”

Minho sits on the mattress of your shared bed with his spine against the headboard and spreads his legs. He pats down on the mattress, signaling for you to come sit between his legs. It’s something he’d always do whenever you’re feeling stressed or overwhelmed or just want to cuddle - it’s a cute habit you adore. You rest your back against his chest, and he places both of his hands on your round belly.

“Calm down, love. It’s alright, everything’s fine.”, he tries to soothe you, but his attempt clearly fails as you cry even harder.

“Nothing’s fine!”, you nearly shout, which takes Minho completely off guard as he stares at you with a shocked expression on his face. “Nothing’s fine, nothing’s okay. I’m fucking huge and ugly.”, you hiccup.

You can feel Minho’s body literally freeze, hands stopping their movements on your belly as his breath gets caught in his throat. “What?”, is all he manages to say, still too stunned to speak. How could you even think such an absurd thing, let alone say it out loud?

You just nod, and he hears you sniffle, before you slightly turn your body so that you’re now facing him - eyes red and puffy. “It’s true.”, you mumble, drying your tears that are streaming down your cheeks with the back of your hand. “My boobs are huge, they don’t even fit in my clothes anymore. I hate them, and I know you don’t like them either, which -“

“Woah there…” Minho interrupts you, eyebrows furrowed and a perplexed look on his face. “What are you talking about?”, he asks, still pretty confused. So this was what was bothering you and making you cry? He can’t believe it.

“I-…”, you stutter, not knowing exactly how to put your thoughts into coherent words. “I know you don’t like big boobs. I thought you wouldn’t… find me attractive like this.”, you try to explain.

Minho has to physically contain himself from laughing out loud. He shakes his head instead, a mischievous grin on his face. “Oh, love…”, he whispers, his hands moving from your belly to the underside of your breasts. “Who told you I don’t like your boobs the way they are now? Who told you this bullshit?”, he asks you.

“I-I…”, you stutter, not being able to come up with a proper answer.

“Exactly, no one.” Minho shots back. “Because I love them.”

“You do?”, you turn your head to meet his eyes - your own a bit glossy and red. God, Minho hates to see you cry, especially over something like this. He’d gladly spend the rest of his days showing you how much he loves and adores every single inch of your body.

“Of course I do, love.”, he kisses you on the cheek, and at the same time his hands move from your round belly to your breasts, gently cupping them in his palms, caressing them over the layer of your t-shirt. The sensitivity makes a shiver run down your spine nonetheless. “Sensitive?”, he murmurs, fingers gently tracing the outline of your boobs and nipples.

“So much.”, you sigh, relaxing in Minho’s embrace as his delicate touch relaxes you and makes you finally forget about your insecurities.

The pads of his fingers circle the area around your nipples, and this time you can’t hold back a whimper as you arch your back - and he can feel them harden under his touch. “Do you want me to…”, he starts, placing two or three soft kisses on your cheek, “…show you…”, now your jawline, “…how much I love your tits?”, finally, your neck, making you shiver.

You nod, and his hands find their way under your - his - oversized t-shirt and finally, you can feel his touch directly on your skin. Delicate, hesitant, scared to hurt you or to cause you any discomfort. He doesn’t know that he’s healing your wounds - he’s making you feel wanted, loved, cherished, and he’s making you forget what you were insecure about in the first place.

“Can I touch them - properly?”, he whispers in your ear, his hair tickling your skin,

You nod once again, and he cups your boobs using his hands - so big compared to yours. His hands are cold, and the sensation makes you squeak and then giggle. He’s gentle as he touches you, delicately groping your breasts, then brushing the pads of his thumb on each nipple. When his skin brushes yours, you let out a proper moan. Not a whimper, not a sigh - a moan. Your nipples have always been sensitive, but your pregnancy brought it on a whole different level, to the point that only a simple touch like this is arousing you.

“Min.”, you whimper, hiding your face in the crook of his neck and closing your eyes as he continues to tease your sensitive nipples, now softly squeezing them between two of his fingers. As he does so - he instantly feels something wet on the pads of his digits.

At first, he’s taken aback, so he repeats the action just to make sure he’s not just imagining it. But no, his fingers feel definitely wet. He immediately pulls one hand out to check, the other remains on your boob, although he stops squeezing your nipple. And he sees something whitish coating the pads of his digits.

“Love, is this…?”, he’s speechless.

“Oh, I forgot to tell you.”, you mumble, wrapping your fingers around his wrist, staring at his fingers as well. “I noticed earlier, when I was changing.”

Right before your insecurities kicked in.

“Have you, uh… tasted it?” Minho swears he can feel his cheeks heat up as he asks you this question, somehow unable to tear his eyes off of his fingers. You shake your head as a no. “Do you… want to?” Okay, now he’s definitely blushing.

“I, uh… I read online that it’s not properly milk. So it may taste weird.”, you explain. “But I’m kind of curious.”

He brings his fingers, coated in the whitish liquid, to your mouth. You give a small, kitten lick on his fingers, tasting the substance. It’s a flavor you’re not able to describe, different than everything you know.

“How is it?” Minho asks, not able to hide the curiosity in the tone of his voice.

“It’s weird.”, you admit.

“Can I… taste it, too?”

His question catches you off-guard, but in the end it only makes sense that he tries it too. So you hum in approval. “Sure.”

And then he brings the same fingers to his lips, licking off what remains of the liquid. He now gets what you meant - it does taste weird, but not necessarily in a negative way.

“Can I see?”, he asks before he can stop himself.

You don’t even have to ask him what is it that he wants to see, you just know. You nod, and you feel his fingers slide the t-shirt you’re wearing up your torso, revealing your beautiful breast and you use your hands to keep it in place. You can see him biting his lower lip at the sight of your naked breast, full and heavy. Then, he brings his fingers back on your nipple, and he squeeze it between the pads, watching fascinated and absolutely mesmerized the way a couple of droplets of that same whitish liquid drip from it. He brings his digits back to his lips to give it another taste, and then places them back on your nipple, repeating the very same motions for a couple of times more.

“You taste so sweet, love.”, he murmurs in your ear, fingers squeezing your nipples delicately. “I’m not hurting you, am I?”

You shake your head as a no. “Nope, feels good.”, you smile at him. Somehow, his hands on your boobs seem to relax you, even though you struggled to change your shirt earlier due to the sensitivity. Minho must have magic hands.

“It does?”, he sounds genuinely surprised.

“Mh-hm.”, you hum. “It’s nice. I feel less sore.”

He stays quiet for a while, maybe a minute or two, and you just know he has something on his mind, you know your man. As predicted, after a while he speaks. “Love, can I try something?”, his voice is soft as he speaks, still massaging your breasts. You assent, because you know you can trust him. “Lie down on the bed, love. On your side.”, he instructs.

You’re kind of thankful he chose this position, because your back pain is killing you. He lies down next to you, facing you, and places a soft kiss on your lips before lifting your t-shirt once again, motioning for you to take it off completely. Once you do, he cups both of your breasts in his hand once again, and then you can feel him squirm and move, until his face is nearly pressed against your breast.

You see him lick his lower lip before parting his lips, and he spares you a quick glance before attaching his mouth to your nipple. It’s not the first time he does it, of course, but it’s the first time since you’ve started lactating. However, you have to reiterate your previous statement - it’s somehow really helping you feel less sore.

He gives one small, tentative suck, careful not to use teeth because he knows it hurts like a bitch, especially since you’re feeling extra sensitive, and you kick your head back, closing your eyes and breathing through your nose - as the sensation is overwhelming in the best way possible. His fingers are still on your other nipple, stimulating it with soft, gentle touches alternated with light squeezes.

He hums against the skin of your chest, sucking delicately as the runny liquid drips into his mouth, and he gladly swallows it, swirling his tongue around your nipple to make sure to catch every single drop that falls from it. After a while, he pulls away to avoid overstimulating the zone, and moves to your other nipple, doing the same thing. He takes your nipple into your mouth and starts to suck gently.

Inevitably, your hand ends up in his hair, entangling your fingers in his dark locks as you share such an intimate moment.

The sensitivity of your nipples combined with the stimulation provided by Minho’s fingers and mouth causes the familiar sensation of your orgasm to build up in your lower abdomen unexpectedly. “Min-ho…”, you’re cut off by a choked sound that escapes your throat, and you tug at his hair a bit harder, making him whimper against your nipple.

He knows how you sound like when you’re about to cum - it’s unmistakable, and judging by the way you’re pulling his hair and breathing through your nose, it seems you’re pretty close. Minho continues to lap at your nipple while playing with your other one, toying with it using his fingers - caressing it, flicking it, squeezing it and smearing the runny substance all over your skin until he feels your body tremble.

“Min, Minho, baby… cumming…”, you chant, and he can feel you squeezing your thighs together to relieve the tension as your orgasm washes all over you.

Minho hums satisfied against your skin before pulling away from your nipple when he feels you pull his hair a bit harder, swallowing your milk and wiping the corner of his mouth with the back of his hand. Then, he runs his tongue all over the surface of your other nipple and boob to lick it clean.

Finally, he places a soft kiss on your lips and pulls you closer to him until your bodies are pressed together and your face is in the crook of his neck. “You’re perfect, my love. Do you believe me now?”, he murmurs, running his fingers through your hair. You nod weakly, already feeling tired.

He helps you put your t-shirt back on, then cuddles up next to you, covering you up with a blanket, his hand on your belly.

“Sleep tight, my loves.”

☘︎

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ataraxiaspainting · 4 months

Text

Banquet of Massacre.

Yan Geto x F Reader.

Synopsis: The days are blending into each other, and you just want some sort of change. But soon, you realize you have to be far more careful about what you wish for.

Warnings: Yandere themes, kidnapping, not SFW implications, takes place five or so years before JJK 0, and violence.

Continuation of Presentiment of Massacre.

Word Count: 800.

*~*~*~*

The green obi gently tightening with each passing second stops at your words, but after a chuckle resumes, the slight anger in Geto’s voice is smaller than the width of a hair.

He continues with the loose, wide red sodes. You focus so much on your anxiety, about what the rest of your life will be, that you don’t notice the small golden details of koi on the red sleeves. You don’t even pay attention to the silk that ties your wrists together, a consequence of you attempting to squirm your way out of dinner again. Not that dinner was anything special this evening.

“You know,” His voice rises and falls like the wind. “Perhaps there are some things you shouldn’t say to the only reason you are still alive.”

With that, he pulls, much harder than before, on the ends of the sash, causing you to gasp for air for a moment or two.

“I could still feed you to one of my curses you know, or all of them at the same time, they would love to get a taste of you.”

At your desperate whines, as you attempt to claw at the ceiling with restrained hands, he lets go, and with his action, your vision blurs no longer.

He spins you around and he licks his lips.

“I-I’m sorry, Master Geto.” You might be uncertain if you mean your apology, but perhaps Geto has the answer.

Just as you are not sure if Geto forgives you, but he knows the answer for sure.

The woman sitting next to both of you on the floor holds a golden hairpin in her ragged, scarred hands. She holds the hairpin just like she held the underlayer, obi string, socks, obi, and sash. She held and currently holds them all so delicately because she did not want to lose her hands. She was your handmaiden, according to Geto, and although the two of you had never exchanged words, you knew her first name was Sookee, but her last name was of no relevance if it even existed.

Even though she was around your age, Sookee looked much older than she was because of her premature wrinkles and little white hairs sticking out of her bangs, clear signs of all the stress Geto and the rest of the people here put her through. She was an indentured servant of sorts, from what you were told, and she, like you, is often tormented by the people who live here.

You feel bad for her, whenever you hear her screams and cries, whenever she trips and breaks a porcelain teapot and gets beaten for it, or when she is too late to dress you for supper, which always causes Geto to summon a curse that is so ugly and follows her for the rest of the day and makes crude comments toward her.

There was one time that it actually bit her, and after an hour’s worth of begging, Sookee earned the right to bandage herself up.

“Monkey,” The word is bitter on his tongue and lingers in the air for far longer than either Sookee or you would have liked. “Pin.”

Although you sympathize with Sookee, your instinct urges you to prioritize your well-being before her.

“Since you are so ungrateful for the life I have given you, maybe it would be better to make you like Sookee. Would you like that, princess? To be lesser than a pauper?”

You deeply repent for uttering a single word, which emerges from your lips with complete despair. Meanwhile, Geto wears a smile as he delicately places the luxurious golden hairpin, worth more than your two kidneys combined, into your hair. With a dismissive gesture and a piercing look, he sends Sookee away, and she quietly shuts the door behind her.

You don’t stop him from pushing you onto the bed, large enough for at least five people to rest on, because really is there anything you can do? “You’re so pretty. The loveliest one, the only one worthy of what I am about to do.”

You are trapped here, forever bound by him. The door is guarded by a terrifying curse that ensures your confinement, although Geto's power makes it unnecessary. You find yourself in this place, adorned in the kimono he compelled you to wear, lying in his bed, with the makeup Sookee was forced to apply on you. And here you are, hearing his whispered words of affection as he lies upon you.

“Since you are so ungrateful for what you already have, I will give you more and more, my love, until you regret ever wishing for a life outside of this one.”

#aya abstractions #yandere #yandere x reader #yandere geto #yandere jujutsu kaisen x reader #yandere jujutsu kaisen #yandere jjk #yandere jjk x reader #jjk x reader #yandere geto x reader #yandere suguru #yandere suguru geto

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bloatedandalone04 · 8 months

Text

Shadows Of Your Heart

➪the one where anakin makes it up to you after being distant during a mission.

Warnings: brief angst bc i have no self control, fluff, anakin being cold for a quick second, a bit of a confusing setting bc i couldn't think of good enough plot to start off with, my bad, more fluff bc i was asked nicely and i intend on delivering like i always do♡

Word Count: 1.6k

Do not repost this anywhere, reblogs are fine ♡

“I have to speak to Obi-Wan,” you say quickly as you pick up the device from off the floor. Anakin gives you a weary look as he steps towards you, blindly strapping his saber back onto his belt. “Anakin.”

He stands in front of you, as unimpressed as ever. “What?” He stubbornly asks when you give him a stern look.

“Don’t be so sharp with me. All of this could’ve been prevented,” you gesture to the bar patron who was currently lying face down on the floor of the pub.

“I find that hard to believe,” he muttered as he glared down at the man.

When he looked back at you, he took in your expression of annoyance that you poorly hid. “Anakin,” you warn again, ready to call it a night and head back with him. You were tired and the events that took place a few minutes prior had severely worn you out, and Anakin only made things harder when he couldn’t control his emotions and took it out on the patron.

“Y/n,” he said back and you just huffed, holding the device out to him.

“I need to speak to Obi-”

“Go speak to him,” he cut you off, taking the device from you with a surprisingly gentle pull, despite you physically being able to feel the anger radiate off his body. It was so like him; to be cold towards everyone else but caring towards you, even when he was not in a good mood at all. “You come find me when you’re done.”

He turned to you, giving you the opportunity to locate his mentor, but you didn’t want to leave things like this, especially when you and him would be sharing a bed later. “Anakin,” you called out to him, watching as he stopped walking and turned back towards you. “Everything is fine. We did good.”

“Yeah,” he answered shortly, glancing back down at the man who was groaning as his flesh burned and peeled away from his body. “Don’t worry about him, I’ll take the blame for all of it.”

He was being so closed off and sharp with you. It irked you and you wanted to stay and talk it out with him, hating having to leave things like this. “Don’t be like that,” you tried to talk him out of the angry stupor he was in, but you knew you didn’t have enough time to calm him down.

“I thought you needed to see Obi-Wan,” he gave you a cold look and you stepped away from him.

“I did, I do, but…” you trailed off, playing with the sleeves of your robe. “I want to talk to you, too, Anakin. I don’t want you to be upset with me.”

Anakin sighed and the crease in his brow softened. “I’m not upset,” he says quietly and you raise a brow at the obvious lie. “Not with you.” He corrects and you stare at him for a few seconds before nodding.

“Alright,” you murmur and reach your hand out to him, wanting to give him a proper goodbye, but he just moves away.

“I’ll see you soon,” was all he said and walked away, leaving you to watch as his form retreated until you could no longer see him.

It was a little while later when you returned to your room, exhaustion filling your every sense as the events of the day weighed down on you.

Anakin wasn’t back yet, but that was to be expected. Usually when he is as fired up as he was earlier, he stays out as late as he can in an attempt to cool his body and clear his mind before returning to you.

If he doesn’t walk off the anger, he ends up taking it out on you, and then he feels even worse when he sees the emotion he caused you to feel all over your face. You understood for the most part, but it still stung whenever he shut you out like he did earlier.

While you put in a decent effort, you still weren’t able to find him like he told you to once you were finished with Obi-Wan. He kept himself well hidden and out of sight, making you only able to go off of the emotional connection you had with the Jedi. You could feel that he was still angry even hours after the bar incident, so you decided to just go home and wait for him there.

You had just finished getting dressed for bed when the door opened and in walked your boyfriend, who looked so defeated. You refrained from taking him into your arms and instead waited for him to make the first move.

He does a few seconds after entering the bedroom. “Hi,”

You couldn’t help the small laugh that escapes you. “Hi,”

He moves further into the room and silently sets his lightsaber down onto the dresser before turning to you. He wore a look of guilt and a sheepish smile as he stepped towards you. “I’m sorry for how I left things before,” he says quietly, taking your hands in his and walking backwards towards the bed. You let him pull you to stand between his thighs once he sits down and continues, “I was out of line and frustrated and I didn’t mean to take it out on you.”

His hands slip from yours and settle on your waist while you gently begin to massage his still tense shoulders. It was no secret that Anakin is a very passionate guy and cared a lot, but he was also stubborn and got worked up easily. The littlest things set him off on a bad day, but those days thankfully didn’t happen too often.

Anakin pouted slightly when you didn’t answer him, but he also knew you weren’t too angry with him as you hadn’t pulled away from him. He leaned into the softness of your hands, suddenly wishing he got home sooner so he could feel your gentle touch a lot earlier than right now.

“I should’ve stayed and talked things through with you when you wanted to,” he picked back up on his apology, his fingers bunching up the fabric of your gown. “I’m sorry, my love. I know you don’t appreciate it when I get like that.”

You just shake your head and slide your hands upwards so they are caressing either side of his face. Running your left thumb over his scar, you lean down and press a kiss to his forehead. “But I put up with it because I love you,”

He lifts his gaze to meet yours once you pulled away and mirrored your small grin.

“We’re a team, you and I,” you remind him and stroke your thumb across his cheek. “And, yes, I do like talking things through with you, but I also like giving you your space, Anakin. Whenever you need it, just tell me, but don’t push me away.”

Anakin raises his hands so his fingers are wrapped around your wrists, and he places a kiss on your palm. “I won’t,” he promises, placing your hand back on his face and leaning into your touch. “I won’t, I promise you. I’m sorry for acting so cold to you before.”

You shrug. “It was an intense mission,” you try to defend him.

But he wasn’t having it. “That doesn’t make it okay,” he pressed, his hands returning to your hips as he let out a sigh. “I don’t want you to make excuses for me or my actions, alright? Not when they resulted in me lashing out on you.”

“You didn’t really lash out on me, Anakin,” you insisted as you moved to sit next to him on the bed. “You just needed space.”

“I did,” he replied, pulling you towards him so your legs were draped over his. “But not anymore. I don’t want you to feel like I’m pushing you away or that I don’t want you near me. I want you all the time, every day. I’m sorry if I made you believe otherwise.”

You grip his shoulders as you move even closer to him. “It’s okay, Anakin, really,” you press a kiss to the corner of his mouth. “I’m not mad or upset. I just worry about you. You can let me in, you know. Whatever it is, I’m here.”

“I know,” he raises his glove covered hand and uses his thumb to pull at your lower lip. “I know, my sweet girl. I don’t deserve you.”

You open your mouth to protest but he quiets you with a chaste kiss.

“But I love you,” he said once he pulled away and rested his forehead on yours. “I don’t think I could ever stop loving you.”

Grinning, you move further onto the bed and pull him with you, not caring that he was still in the clothing he wore during the mission as you tugged him to lay down next to you. “I’ll never stop loving you,” you trace his scar with your index finger as he wraps his arms around you. “And I promise you that, Anakin.”

Anakin nodded once before pressing his lips to yours in a much more passionate kiss than before. He sighed into the kiss when he felt you relax in his arms, and he knew that someday soon he would not be able to hold off on asking you to marry him any longer.

The thought both terrified and excited him, but he knew he’d be okay in the end because he had you.

And, like you had proven and promised, you had him as well.

bloatedandalone04 actually wrote fluff for once?!

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