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bayjaruchel · 7 months

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Never Too Much

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Pairing: Mike Schmidt (2023)/AFAB Reader

Rating: Explicit

Summary: There are certain things that your boyfriend really likes to do. (2.2k, mostly cunnilingus | originally posted on ao3) | Masterlist )

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Mike takes his time with you, when he can.

He likes being able to pace himself. By now, he knows your body very well; every curve and harsh edge, every single little detail. He's traced up your contours with his fingertips and kissed all the way back down again. Even though he's generally not the best at keeping calm, he's a very patient lover when given the chance to be. After your first few— and frantic — times together, he's slowed down considerably.

However, there are still exceptions to that pattern.

Like when you don't have the time for anything slow; such as the minutes before he has to get ready for work. When you're both still a little groggy, but still need each other. Or when he knows he won't be free for most of the day, and you want to make it up to him. You fumble for each other, a determined clash of hands and lips and warm skin, both desperate to make the other person finish first. The sheets get twisted awkwardly around his legs— the hardwood floor makes your knees sore— but it's completely and utterly worth it. For every time you can't properly make love— in the purest definition of the phrase— there's always going to be a time when you leave each other completely breathless and spent afterward. No matter the technique, he's mastered the art of thoroughly taking you apart.

There is one specific thing that Mike just can't be patient with, though.

"Shit—"

He's always been eager to eat you out.

No matter the time or place. It could be during one of those brief periods, or during the long hours of the night where you have all the time in the world. He just can't wait. And he isn't waiting right now, even redoubling his efforts when you tighten your grip in his hair. His head bobs, slightly, as he drags his tongue through your gathering wetness, up towards the aching apex of your pleasure.

A gasp is punched from your lungs when Mike closes his lips around your clit and sucks, for just a moment, before returning to your cunt. He shifts forward to get even deeper than before, lapping at you in broad strokes, equally calculated and clumsy. His enthusiasm is palpable, as usual. The sounds he's making— almost filthy slurping, accompanied by little moans now and then that send pleasant vibrations through you— they fill the air, easily overpowering everything else. His eyelashes flutter now and then, but occasionally he looks up at you, taking you in. You know how you look: nearly as disheveled as him.

Your thighs twitch as he continues to savor you. Whenever he moves back up to gently flick your clit with his tongue, his breath comes in hot puffs through his nostrils. He always takes a deep inhale before diving back in, totally uncaring towards the way his spit and your slick must be dripping down his chin. He's not afraid to get messy. In fact, you think he likes it— he likes the evidence of your arousal clinging to your stubble, the knowledge of what he does to you. The knowledge of what he can do to you. "Mike," you gasp again, "oh, fuck. That's— that's so good— "

His mouth is still occupied, but he hums, muffled into your cunt. The praise has always done something for him. But you don't just say it because he likes it— you say it because you mean it, truly. The fact that you can see his hips shift a little at your words is just an added bonus. He hasn't even attempted to reach down to touch himself yet, even though you know he must be tenting his boxers. Even though you know that by the time you get close, there'll be a wet spot in the fabric.

"You don't even have to beg for it anymore," you tease, even though you're too breathless for it to really land, "you know I'll let you do this again and again, even if I'm supposed to be doing something else." You're a sucker for him, and he knows it. Biting your lower lip, you use the hand in his curls to tug him closer. He's just like putty in your hands. "Maybe you like to beg a little, huh? Is that right?"

You decide to take his answering moan as a yes. Mike looks up at you with heavy hazel eyes— pleading, again— wanting to tell you what he wants, but he also doesn't want to stray from his task at hand. Sometimes you wonder what you did to earn this. It's practically worship, at this point. You make a hasty mental note to repay him later, but it's hard to concentrate when he's putting all of his effort into pushing you towards your orgasm. You can feel your muscles tensing, the heat in your abdomen building—

He's gradually focusing more and more of his attention on your clit now. But he's still dragging his tongue through your cunt, tasting you, collecting what's accumulating there. You jolt when his nose bumps against your sensitive nub, providing much-needed friction in the absence of his tongue. Although you definitely aren't the first person that he's done this to, you know for a fact that you're the person he's done this the most to. How do you know? He's told you himself.

Cuntdrunk is a good word to describe him. If he could, he'd live between your thighs forever.

You choke on a whimper. Mike takes in that sound— greedily, needily, he needs more. Scrambling to get a grip on one of your knees, he squeezes it once, pulling it closer to his head. And you understand the signal immediately. You close your thighs around his head, essentially trapping him where he is. Forcing him deeper. His brow furrows, nose pressed against your clit. The first time he wanted you to do this, you were afraid that he'd suffocate; that you'd hurt him. But by now, you're well aware that it won't happen, as long as you're careful not to push him down too much.

He really likes being pushed like this, though. It empties his head, he says. Yours is pretty empty at the moment, too. You're blissfully absent, hardly tethered to Earth. You only really register the feeling of his hair tickling your thighs and shins, from where you've got them positioned— the pillow underneath your hips— his tongue. The pace he's keeping now is almost feverish—

— minutes pass, and you're so, so, close. You can feel it, toes curling when he sucks on your clit again. You can't bite back the sounds that you're making anymore, your mouth falling open as your breathing grows more uneven the closer you get. Your thighs tighten an increment, your heart pumping furiously. The sensations are nearly overwhelming, but you can do little except take what he's giving you. "Just like that— mmhn — keep going, that's perfect—"

You're teetering on the edge for a split second, but what finally pushes you over is another glance downward. Mike is— to put it simply — ruined.

His hair's all messy from when you'd been tugging at it earlier, his cheeks a brilliant red. Almost the entire lower half of his face proudly displays the confirmation of what he's been doing this entire time. If his eyes weren't shut, you know they would be hazy, glazed-over— you haven't even touched him yet, disregarding a few kisses— and he's already fucked-out. All because of you.

"Mike!" You squirm, eyes squeezing shut, "Mike, I'm—"

He groans into your pussy when you cum, eagerly licking up all the remnants of your orgasm. The coil unwinds in waves, which crash through your lower body.

He works at you until the abrupt heat in your gut fades away, replaced by a relaxed warmth, and you start shuddering with oversensitivity.

You could let him continue— he'd keep going for as long as he possibly could. He'd make you cum as many times as humanly possible if you let him. However, you release his head from between your thighs instead, letting your legs slip down to lay on his shoulders. As soon as he's free, he starts taking deep lungfuls of air, catching his breath. Just like you. Which is sort of ironic, since he was the one doing all the work.

He rests his cheek on your inner thigh, leaving a wet smear there. You can't really bring yourself to care, though.

Mike looks at you, still bleary-eyed.

" 'S good?" He asks, hoarsely.

You know you're not done with him yet.

"Yeah." Fondly, you smile down at him. He easily returns it. When you scooch back to sit up against the headboard, he instinctively shuffles forward to fill the newly created space. Your eyes flick downward when he goes to sit up, too, finally exposing his lap—

"Uh." Mike clears his throat.

"Could you … " He trails off, but you doubt it's entirely because of embarrassment.

"I was already planning on it," you reply lightly, already going to place one hand on the back of his neck to tug him closer. He goes, and positions himself so he's hovering over you; spreading his knees just so, he's still looking at you reverently.

"That's good," he breathes.

"You want me to suck you off or something?" The suggestion is extremely casual, like always. But his breath still audibly hitches, and he swallows.

"... You want me to blow in five seconds?"

Snorting, you thumb over his cheek. He leans into your touch, the corner of his mouth quirking up. "I'm serious," he insists, voice low. "It'd be really terrible. You don't want that, right?"

"I don't know." You shrug as best you can. "It's kind of hot, knowing that you got that worked up from just eating me out."

He contemplates this for a second.

"Fair enough."

But then, he drops his tone and murmurs, "I still don't want it to end that quickly."

"You don't?"

"I don't."

You let out a long, dramatic sigh, and pretend to ignore the snicker it elicits from him.

"But I was looking forward to returning the favor."

It's Mike's turn to shrug. "Plenty of other opportunities for that later, y'know."

Admitting defeat is the worst thing ever.

"I guess you're right," you concede. "Fine."

"I guess I'm— " he starts to mimic under his breath, but the rest of his words are expelled in a single whoosh when you squeeze him through his boxers. "— fuck."

A crease forms between his eyebrows again as you continue to feel him out. You were right. Near where his tip was resting, you can feel a small, slightly damp spot. It's enough to make you throb, once— no matter how many times this happens, you'll never get used to this. Your patience is quickly failing, like his.

"You were saying?" You ask innocently, while hooking your fingers in his waistband.

Mike quickly shifts from his previous snark, right back to need.

"I was— I was saying—" His tongue darts out to moisten his lips, "— how much I need you to touch me right now. " The last part of his sentence is barely a whisper. "Please."

And there it is, you want to quip, but you think you've done enough for now. His boxers come off easily, and you unceremoniously wrap your hand around his cock. That's enough to make him shudder, a small noise escaping his parted lips. There's no need for build-up anymore, so you just start pumping him. He quakes, and then leans in, nudging your nose with his. Wordlessly asking permission.

You can still taste a little of yourself on his tongue when you kiss him, leisurely. You drink in what was previously muffled by your cunt. He twitches in your palm, lips pliant and tender against yours, but still a discernible force. A comfortable presence, sharing the same breaths as you. He kisses you again and again until he has to draw back for air.

Mike breathes your name, high-pitched and trembling, as warmth shoots into your hand a few minutes later.

"That's it," you murmur, coaxing the rest of it out of him, "that's it. There you go."

You both just lay there for a couple of long moments. It feels like raw electricity wherever your bare skin is touching his. It's like a current, of sorts. He's still shaking, faintly, either from the exertion or the fact that he's most likely still a little oxygen-deprived. It's probably a nice mix of both. But when that subsides, you both reluctantly roll off the bed, clumsily plodding to the bathroom to get cleaned up.

The tile is cool underneath your bare feet. He stands nice and still as you clean your dried cum off his face. You stay nice and still while he cleans you up, too.

When you're throwing the used towel in the laundry bin, he speaks up. Now that the residual heat has faded, you can feel goosebumps starting to prickle across your skin.

"I love you," he says.

You are both naked, a little damp, and standing in the bathroom.

But somehow, it all fits together. It makes sense.

You turn to face him.

You wrap your arms around his neck, and his hands automatically land on your hips. Mike watches you, obvious worry glimmering in his eyes. He's unsure if that was the right thing to say.

Then:

"I love you," you conclude.

The tension all but melts from his shoulders.

#mike schmidt x reader #mike schmidt x you #mike schmidt imagine #mike schmidt smut

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thegnomelord · 2 months

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Imagine Intoxicated Sex With Ghost

CW:NSFW, MDNI, intoxicated sex (weed) Subbot Ghost, domtop Mreader, safe/sane/consensual, smoking, playing with hands, anal, recreational drug use.

Ghost doesn't like being inebriated. Even when out drinking with the lads at the nearest pub he'll never reach the point of intoxication where he can't drive a car or punch a man's lights out if he needs to. He saw what booze did to his pa, saw what the drugs did to Tommy, he doesn't want the Riley 'legacy' to dig it's roots into him — just the thought of it makes his stomach churn and his lungs feel like they're infested with black mold.

But sometimes when both of you are on leave, the battlefield miles away yet the lingering ache of it all filling his bones with static, he'll indulge in the weed his doc prescribed. It took him a while to be comfortable to use it, both with himself and you. But he trusts you, knows you won't do anything to him that you two hadn't agreed to prior; you're good for him like that.

Too good.

Making the blunt feels intimate in a way Ghost can't describe. The way you sit right next to him on the couch, both of you on even level, works to relax some of the usual tenseness in his spine. It's the careful glide of your knife along the cheap cigar to create a clean cut so you can empty the dried leaves into the trash that has his heart beating a little faster — then again, he's always liked the look of a knife in your hands and how precise you could be with it.

He'd die before he told you his thoughts, so he takes the empty cigar paper without a word and carefully measures how much of the weed he puts in, just a little shy of the recommended dose. He feels your nonjudgmental gaze on his fingers as he rolls the makeshift blunt, yours might be the only one that doesn't make his skin prickle with discomfort.

"You're getting better at that." You note. Ghost's blunt making skill isn't such a slop-job as it used to be when he first started doing this, but it's by no means pretty. "Practice some more and they might start looking half-assed."

"Sod off." The edge in his tone would cut deeper if he didn't bump his shoulder against yours. "At least I don't make 'em look like logs of shite."

"Mean." You tut but shoulder his weight without complaint and wrap an arm around his waist. He leans further on you until he ends up laying across your lap, his back pinning your legs down and his head resting on the couch arm, making himself comfortable like a cat in a sunning spot.

"What? Can't handle the truth?" He says, staring at the blunt in his hand. You don't rush him, sitting in comfortable silence with your hand loosely carding through his disheveled hair, fingers scratching his scalp and the soft blond strands curling at his nape for a few minutes while Simon prepares himself. You know he's ready when he pulls the face mask off his face, biting the end of the blunt between his teeth and turning his head towards you.

You reach to hold his jaw, the sensation of your fingers scraping against his stubble both electric and calming for him. With a small 'click' an equally small flame sparks at the tip of the lighter, the fire dances in his dark eyes as you hold it at the other end of the blunt until it's tip is ignited.

Simon holds the blunt with his fingers, eyes closing as he takes a deep and controlled breath. The smoke lazily crawls down his trachea to settle in his lungs, he holds his breath until there's a small tightness in his chest before breathing out just as slowly. It takes a couple more puffs before he can feel the vestiges of that lazy high begin to nibble on his nerves, eyes cracking open to look at your visage through the dancing smoke.

Weed takes the edge off life for him; the constant ache of his body is easy to forget when the pleasant buzz fills his skull, chest full of feathers and a deep floaty calmness settling in his bones. Only his spine feels weird, like his lower back is made of kinetic sand, muscles tensing and relaxing but even that works to calm him down, ground him to the sensation of your fingers carding through his hair.

When a low grunt escapes him you lean down, plucking the blunt from his lips to kiss him. This kiss isn't rushed like most of your intimacy needs to be — you have all the time in the world. Ghost opens his mouth and hums into the kiss, the taste of weed on his tongue as he lazily licks into your mouth and along your teeth, lingering whisps of smoke escaping through the crack of both of your lips.

You part so he can take another drag of the blunt, your warm lips leaving chaste kisses on his forehead, nose, eyebrows, cheeks, eyelids when he flutters them shut, and anywhere where you can reach. From the corner of his eye he sees you turn the Tv on, setting some cartoon on a low volume to further ease him into the mental space of calmness. Then your free hand reaches to loosely hold his own free hand, your thumb tracing the scars on the back of his hand.

Your hands don't wander any lower, letting him feel your warmth while he lazily finishes his blunt until it's gone. "You alright Si?" You ask.

"Like a hog in shite." He manages, tilting his head to further lean into your hand that's scratching his scalp. It's something he loves about you — the slow approach you like to take with him. Not just jumping straight to sex, though that's fun too, but sitting there with him, letting him ramble about who knows what while you two watch some shite cartoon, giving him sweet kisses when his hand tugs on your shirt.

It makes Simon's heart feel like it could leap from his chest if his ribs weren't in the way. Fuck, at times like these he could probably spill his heart out to you if the weed didn't line his tongue with lead. He still tries in his own way, taking your hand that's holding his and starting to play with your fingers. Following the lines of your palm with his thumb, curling your fingers and laying sloppy kisses along your knuckles, humming contently when you hold his jaw loosely and scrape your thumb against his stubble.

Simon doesn't know when he gets aroused. Only that one moment he's not, and by the time you two part from another lazy kiss he's tenting his sweatpants.

"Hey," Simon grunts, holding your hand by the wrist as he nibbles on your finger. "Want you."

"You already have me." You snort.

Even high as a kite Simon's not all too pleased with your humor, nipping your finger just at the edge of pain. "Smart arse." His lips follow his teeth to soothe the bite with a small kiss. "Want your cock."

Straight to the point, that one.

A small laugh escapes you, "Alright, alright." He grumbles like a bear roused from hibernation when you have him sit up. He grips your shirt to demand one more kiss from you, your lips distracting him so he doesn't notice when you pick him up. The face he makes is hilarious, like a dog that thinks he's too heavy to be picked up.

But he gets over it quickly, large arms wrapping around your neck to hold onto you as you stumble to the bedroom. A breath escapes him when you lay him down on the bed and he doesn't let go, resulting in you tumbling into bed on top of him. The curse you let out when you fall on him makes him giggle like a school boy.

He's absolutely no help when you try to take his clothes off, laying there like a sack of potatoes and only occasionally wriggling in place. Simon gives you an annoyed look and a chiding "Why'r you so slow?" when you have him lift his hips so you can slide his sweatpants and boxers down his legs. His cock bobs against his belly, a tiny drop of precum smearing against his skin.

"Because you're no help." You grunt, quickly taking your own clothes off. "Seriously Si, you're like trying to move a mountain."

But you don't mind him being like this. You love it, and you love him when he just huffs something under his breath and flops over on his front. He spreads his legs, his hard cock laying between his thighs and his hole just peeking out from between his cheeks. "Mhm," Humming Simon hugs the pillow, nuzzling his cheek into it as he gives you a lazy look, his pupils blown wide and eyes puffy. "Sounds like an excuse t'me."

Even with you it took him a while before he could turn his back to you like this, trust you like this.

"Fuck Simon, look at you." Gently you push another pillow under his hips to hike them up and the way he arches his back to grind his cock against it has your breath stuttering in your chest. You can't keep your hands off him, gingerly massaging the back of his thighs as you slowly trail up, purposely skipping over his ass to dig your thumbs into his lower back. "Gorgeous."

Simon lets out a slow breath as your fingers make the muscles relax, eyes closing and his back rippling as he melts into the sheets. "Well aren't you a charmer." His voice is mumbled into the pillow and the small wiggle of his ass he does to entice you is cute as hell. "C'mon." He nags, throwing the harshest glare he can at you. "Fuck me already." He demands, but he doesn't try to get up from his position, content to just lay and have you listen to his commands.

That's another thing side of Ghost you only see when he's high as a kite — he likes being a pillow prince, to give you orders and rest easy knowing you won't do anything he doesn't want. If it doesn't make your heart melt, that he trusts you like that, you don't know what will.

"Alright, alright," You placate him by finally groping his ass while you grab the lube on the nightstand with your other hand. You squirt a generous amount on your hand and warm it up between your fingers, settling between his legs in a way you can lay kisses along his spine while you slowly circle your fingers around his hole. You reach around with your other hand to lazily stroke him, the lube making the glide of your hand smooth and pleasant.

He's more vocal like this, a low half moan leaving him as Simon closes his eyes. Usually the feeling of a body looming over his back would have him tensing and bearing his teeth, but all he does now is breathe in and relax, muscles tensing for a fraction of a moment when your fingers breach him before he relaxes again. Simon's arms tense to hug the pillow tighter, the soft material muffling the soft moans and deeper grunts you pull from his chest with every small movement of your finger.

It's impossible for you not to tease him. "You like that, sweet prince?" But your tone is light and loving, pushing your finger deeper and distracting him from the small hints of pain the stretching of his muscles brings by stroking his cock more firmly, thumbing his cumhole.

Simon moans unabashedly and nods, biting the pillow and worrying it between his teeth when you push another finger inside him. "Mhm," He doesn't deny it. He can't deny it when the weed in his system makes the pleasure 10 times stronger, the usual electric pleasure now slowly replacing the marrow in his bones as your fingers twist and curl against his slick walls. "So good fer me." He mumbles.

Simon feels like he's floating on a cloud; Each kiss along his spine makes small shivers race down his limbs, the coldness of you pouring more lube over his hole complementing the heat of your hand around his cock, his drool soaking into the pillow and the sweetest sounds escaping him as you stretch him out. His cock leaks a constant stream of precum, his hips occasionally giving minute twitches to fuck into your hand but he's too relaxed to do more than that.

"Ready?" You ask when you think he's stretched enough, slowly pulling your fingers out of him. His hole clenches around nothing, dollops of slick lube escaping past his rim and running down his heavy balls; neither him nor his body is happy about the sudden lack of stimulation.

"Hurry." He orders, cracking an eye to watch you from the corner of his eye as you trail kisses up his spine until you're draped over him, catching his lips in a sloppy kiss while you lube your cock and line yourself up.

He moans into your mouth when the tip of your cock pops into him. "Fuck, yes lovie- just like that. . ." Your name sounds like honey on his tongue as you slide in deeper. His muscles contract and relax with each inch you push into him until he's left panting against the pillow when your balls finally rest against him. He's so hot around you, slick and pliant and trusting, blindly seeking you out for another kiss as you both adjust to the new position.

"Good?" You lazily stroke his cock again, feeling his back muscles ripple against your front as the pleasure washes over his system.

"Perfect." He moans and rolls his hips into your hand, simultaneously fucking himself onto your cock. "Move."

"Yes sir." You grin. You keep the pace slow and loving, a continuous and slow roll of your hips making your cock drag against his prostate. Reaching out to hold his free hand you rock your hips to meet his own movements. Each slow scrape of your cock against his walls has him whimpering, an occasional sharp thrust earning you a pleased moan, the pillow muffling the little breathy 'ah- hah-hm- ah' he makes when you grind your cock as deep as it'll go while rubbing his shaft.

Pleasure continues to build in his body, muscles tensing and relaxing, every single thought melting out of his skull save for your name that he moans like a prayer, your loving movements slowly and steadily turning Simon into a pile of goo. He doesn't even notice when he cums, it rushes through him like lightning striking a tree, pearly cum spurting over your hand as he shouts a loud "Fuck!".

You slow down only for a few seconds, long enough for him to come down from his high and begin grumbling and whining, showing you that he's nowhere near reaches his limit despite his cock softening in your hand. So you indulge his gluttonous side, starting to slowly thrust into him as you stroke his soft shaft. You cum eventually, his hole greedily clenching around you as you shoot your cum inside him and then keep going on fucking him until his voice becomes hoarse from screaming your name.

By the time you two are well and truly done you're both wrung dry, a sizable puddle of cum formed beneath his cock and his hole loose and lax, trying to clench around your cock and the cum you fucked deep inside him.

You use what sense you have in your skull that hadn't melted through your cock to roll you to over on the side so he's not laying in his own cum. Simon grunts when you attempt to pull out, gripping your hand as tightly as his relaxed muscles can until you get the message and lay back down, spooning him with your cock still deep inside him.

And fuck, the buzz of weed and pleasure from sex has him so loose and relaxed you could do anything to him and he wouldn't object. But you don't, simply cuddling up against his back and kissing his sweaty nape.

He loves you for that. He loves that he can trust you. He doesn't know when the last time was when he was this relaxed. A small giggle escapes him and he tilts his head back so you can lay kisses on his neck.

"Love you too Si." He hears you mutter against his ear before he falls asleep. And for the first time since the last time you two did this, does he sleep without the nightmares of a cold grave and a burning home haunting his dreams.

Tag list: @dead-end-stuff

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spiderlyla · 8 months

Note

if you're down to do it.. can i request miguel giving reader cuddles or just some plain ol' loving after coming home from a long day at school?

uni's been kicking my ass with the 8am - 8pm schedules and coming home to a big hunky man who'll treat me like a princess is my only wish.. 😭

Tender—Miguel O'Hara

˗ˏˋ ★ ˎˊ˗ synopsis: miguel takes care of you after a long day.

˗ˏˋ ★ ˎˊ˗ pairing: uni student!gn!reader × miguel o'hara.

˗ˏˋ ★ ˎˊ˗ tags/cw: miguel uses alot of pet names because he's just soft and lovely around his lover, fluff :)

˗ˏˋ ★ ˎˊ˗ lumi's note: hi anon! as a fellow uni student with a schedule from 8 am to 8 pm and in need of comfort as well, this resonated with me. Hope you enjoy!

join my taglist! (Inbox open for fluff!)

Relief, is exactly how you felt when the elevator finally stopped at your floor and you saw your apartment door.

Your state could only be described as completely and utterly spent. Your previously brushed, clean hair was now disheveled and a little damp from the rain. A black tote hung from your shoulder, threatening to spill its content all over the floor at any minute, while you held your laptop bag weakly over your other shoulder.

Your muscles felt sore, and you were sure you caught a cold from the rain pouring down onto your head during your walk back home. All you ever wanted right now, was your clean bed and your lover's warm embrace.

Your hands reached to ring the doorbell, too exhausted to even reach into your bag and look for the keys. Much to your delight, you didn't have to wait long for an answer.

The door opened, the arouma of spices and mouth-watering cooking instantly filling your nostrils, making your instant ramen-filled stomach rumble angrily. The apartment was dim, the comfortable orangish lights spilling out of the door onto the gloomy corridor where you stood. A faint melody was playing on your vinyl, something with a slow saxophone, jazz.

And at the door, there he stood.

Wearing nothing but a pair of grey sweats, an apron saying 'kiss the cook' covering his bare chest. His soft, black curls were wet, some of the strands at the front dripping water onto your carpet. You kept getting whiffs of his minty aftershave, only to notice the small stubble he'd grown was now long gone, leaving a 5'oclock shadow to define his strong jaw.

"Oh, cariño, let me help you with those—" Before he could move, you pushed him inside, clumsily let the bags fall off your shoulders and threw yourself at him. He caught you without losing his balance, strong arms wrapping around your waist while his head rested on top of yours. You pushed yourself more onto him, he smelled of spices, and that earthy cologne he wears all the time, and he was warm. Extremly so.

"Baby, did you walk?" You mustered up the energy to talk yet when you opened your mouth, a muffled noise of confirmation erupted. "I told you I'd pick you up—You're going to catch a cold. Let's change, hm? " He frowned at you, out of concern more than anything, all while helping you to your shared bedroom, his arms never leaving your waist. He helped you sit down on the bed, then opened his side of the closet to grab you one of his large, long sleeved shirts. You managed to undress yourself and put on the shirt he gave you, it smelled of that flowery laundry detergent of yours mixed with Miguel's cologne. The solace it brought you made light headed, gosh, you could sleep for days.

"Oh—No, no sleep until you eat. You probably haven't eaten properly today." Came your lover's baritone voice. You whined queitly, sprawling yourself across the bed. "Mig, 'm tired, tommrow?" Your eyes closed, and when you didn't hear his disapproval, you assumed he just walked out.

Then you felt yourself get lifted off of the comfort of your matress, your tummy squished against his broad shoulder.

"No puedo dejarte, amor, tienes que comer algo." You groaned, it was no use arguing with him, and besides, he was doing you a favour carrying you, your legs felt sore from walking anyway. Miguel set you down on the couch, and said he'll be gone for just a moment, telling you to stay awake for him. [I can't let you, love, you have to eat something]

You heard a few noises coming from the kitchen, a string of spanish curse words and sounds of plates falling but never followed by a crash. Miguel had covered you with a blanket and you were cozying up to a pillow, trying to pretend it's him. He came back after a few minutes, his apron long discarded, with a glass bowl filled with red soup, neatly garnished with avocados, lettuce and radishs.

"I made Pozole." It smelled delicious, Miguel rarely cooked since he was so busy, but when he did, you were sure it was going to be the best thing you've ever put in your mouth. You couldn't tell him you didn't want to eat when he was practically pushing the plate your way. Your arms weakly moved from underneath the blanket, but Miguel tutted at you, tutted. He lifted the spoon to your mouth, silently offering to feed you.

You giggled, and that stoic, serious expression he wore was replaced by a gentle smile and a loving gaze. If his colleges could see him now, they wouldn't believe its the same man who bossed them around.

Within these walls, he was yours, completely and utterly, yours.

He was patient, feeding you bit by bit, eyes never leaving your face. You were too busy enjoying the delight of a dish he was feeding you to notice his soft gaze. "S'good, Mig, So good."

"Yeah? I'm glad you like it, mi sol." He paused, realising you'd devoured the plate queit quickly. "You want me to get you some more?"

"No, 'nough." You spread your arms towards him, and he chuckled, picking you up, all while you were still tangeled in your blanket, now heading back to your room. He set you down for good this time, letting you sleep on his side of the bed while he got on from the other side. His strong arms wrapped around your figure, engulfing you with a sense of absolute security. You cuddled up closer and closer to him, the tip of your nose bumping against the crook of his neck. Your breath fanned against his skin, your legs a tangeled mess. His hands ran up the shirt you wore to squeeze your sides comfortingly.

Miguel was never tender, he found himself being rather harsh and cold most often than not, but not with you, never with you.

"Such a hardworking pretty little thing, aren't you?" He hummed, lips pressing against your forehead. You had slipped into sleep as soon as you set your head on his chest, and Miguel couldn't only admire your exhausted, but beautiful face, the way your lips parted and eyes fluttered every now and then.

"And all mine, yeah?"

Miguel moved, blowing on a scented candle that was lighting up the room, and returned back to his previous position, arms unmoving as the two of you cozied up against each other. He was slipping into sleep, when he heard a queit murmur, no louder than a whisper.

"Mhm, all yours."

🏷: @mamu-writes , @general-dweebous , @beezblep , @tkays21 , @spicysleepysloth , @saturnringzzz , @crazy-ravioli , @nanamisleftnipple , @boringpersonality , @theawkwardpedestrian , @amirohara , @doggydale , @qiaipia , @s0fia4 , @ilovefanfictionsm , @boraward , @anotherblackreader , @johfamm , @aryjai , @www-interludeshadow-com , @mrsoharaa , @minalovesyoubabes , @tttynat , @withlove-krcb , @library-lunatic , @shimaneko06 , @stqrlightrs , @spicysleepysloth , @ang3l-dust1 , @raypook , @sakurasalem , @yellowscuderia , @whosking , @sweetnspicy-noodles , @spineyy

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beneathashadytree · 3 months

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ALL YOURS - VINSMOKE SANJI X READER

Warnings : making out, implied grinding, implied NSFW, reader is gender-neutral!

Genre : spicy fluff for my love <3

Word count : 1.1K words

Additional notes : Sanji brainrot go brrrr. Love this man infinitely 🫶🏽

Tip jar if you’d like to buy me a Ko-Fi!

Masterlist

“Mon dieu…”

The breathless whimper that left Sanji would’ve been inaudible, had they not been greedily soaking up every single noise that escaped his kiss-swollen lips. Pulling back just half an inch, they looked at him through their eyelashes, trembling with effort and loaded emotions as they did.

He looked perfectly ravished, with hooded eyes and mussed tresses of blonde hair. The faint dusting of freckles of his was almost invisible underneath the blush on his flaming cheeks. His glossy lips were parted, breathing out heavy puffs of air as his chest heaved with the exertion. It was true that he always made it a point to say just how badly they’d ruined him, but seeing the results of said ruination always had pleasure shooting down their spine.

Maybe he’d gotten a little greedier over time, because now his hands were desperately clinging to the fat of their hips, tugging them even closer to him. “Easy there,” they languidly chuckled against his mouth, a sound he quickly swallowed into another open-mouthed kiss, kneading their soft skin as he did. Their teasing was all for naught, as they both knew that more was what they truly wanted.

Time was a concept lost to them. After all, this had all started when Sanji had called them to the aquarium bar, with the excuse of wanting them to taste-test a new mocktail he’d made while staying up at night. Since it was alcohol-free, they couldn’t really blame their impulsiveness on intoxication. In fact, even the mocktail was mostly untouched on the countertop, long-forgotten.

But really, were either of them surprised? When it came to their little midnight rendezvous, they never knew if it was going to be ten minutes or a few hours lost in each other’s eyes and entwined with each other’s bodies. Sanji was all lithe muscle and sharp edges and rough stubble, but he somehow carried all the world’s softness and warmth in him. It was no wonder they could barely think of anything else when tangled together.

His tongue was warm sliding against theirs, and his chest was solid underneath their palms. The lingering scent of cigarettes, musky perfume, and expensive aftershave chased after him. Every kiss felt like it would consume them whole; burn them alive down to the tips of their fingers and burrow deep into their chest. Every time their mouths met in a searing chase, he’d push up into their core, their back arching a little despite themself.

It took all the mental fortitude and strength they had to pull away with a gasp, earning a groan from Sanji who looked desperate enough to keen. “You’re cruel,” he somehow managed to whine out, “Mon amour, I’ve not yet had my fill of you—“

Pressing a single index finger to his lips was all it took to silence him. Perhaps as a sort of punishment, they even leaned in to nip at his jutted lower lip, teasing his pout. “Just a second,” they promised him, clambering off his lap before he could protest too much. “I promise I have a surprise for you.”

Smothering a laugh behind their hand knowing the disheveled state they’d left him in, clothes all messed up and so clearly aching for them that he couldn��t even bother to adjust himself, they pranced away to their room to get the box they’d hidden in their set of drawers.

It had been a hassle hiding it from any possible interlopers. After all, you never knew when Nami was about to sell off half their possessions for more cash, or if Luffy was feeling particularly curious that day and wondered if it would sink in the ocean, consequently jumping after it and nearly drowning.

At the very least, they were glad that they had the chance to get back to their sweet man, a forlorn look on his flushed face from having waited for them (what was, in his opinion) for too long. That needy expression of his could melt them with uncontrollable need. They just wish he’d never ever come to know that, or else he’d become insufferable.

Settled back in his lap, Sanji was all too eager to have them ontop of him, a curious look now on his face. “What’ve you got behind your back, my love?”

“A little gift,” they vaguely said, before thinking for a few moments. “You know how you like to wear rings?”

“Not when I’m cooking, but generally speaking, yes.” He hummed, eyes lighting up as he tried to take a peek behind them. “Oh, you really shouldn’t have, ma chéri—“

Interrupting his little rant with a kiss, that shut him up enough for them to wag a finger at him. “I’m not finished yet, you impatient man.” At that, they shifted a little in his lap. “I’d noticed that you always kept your ring finger bare. Knowing you as well as I believe I do, I think I know why that is.” Carefully, as steadily as they could manage, they pulled that small box from behind their back, popping it open with one hand while the other rested over his shirt. “But would you consider changing that now?”

A choked gasp left Sanji’s parted lips, and his eyes had turned large and glassy. The sparkling ring set into the velvet was not just impossibly gorgeous, but looked ludicrously expensive as well. He was certainly taken aback, though they hoped that it was because of him having not seen this somewhat-impromptu proposal coming, and not as a precedent to being rejected.

All that he could do was stumble over his words, his thoughts getting all jumbled up and his heart pounding furiously against their palm. “Is this… are you asking me to—?”

“Marry me, Sanji, yes.” Their laugh came out a little strained, nerves finally getting to them a little. “If you’ll have me.”

“You say this as if I’m not currently and always painfully wanting you,” he breathed out, briefly closing his eyes, before tugging them into his chest. Collapsing against him, they pretended not to know the reason why he’d hid his face into their neck, and pretended not to notice his half-sniffles. “Yes. Fuck, of course, yes.”

“That’s settled then,” they quietly said, surprised to find a lump in their throat themself. All they could do was just squeeze him back twice as tightly, their hands patting his back fondly as the embrace filled every single nook and cranny in their heart with love.

And if they happened to waste a few more hours holding each other so tight lest they break, locking the door to the aquarium bar behind them as they shared tender touches and pleasured sighs that were lost to the quiet night, then no one was to blame.

Taglist: @stories-that-shaped-me @finch-ya @wifeofkyojuro

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ohwowimlonley · 11 months

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Closer

CHAPTER ONE - blank stares

Series Synopsis - after being evicted and having nothing left, your best friend sends you to live with her brooding, stoic boss. Except, he isn’t so brooding, and he isn’t so stoic, and now that you live with him, your underwear keeps going missing

Chapter Synopsis - you meet your bestfriend’s angry boss, but he isn’t so angry

Chapter Warnings - crybaby!reader, dilf!perv!hotch, food mentions, reader is kinda a housewife already

Word Count - 2517

Add yourself to the taglist

The first time you meet Aaron Hotchner, you’re just a tad bit desperate. Not for him, of course, you’d just met the man. But you’re definitely a bit dishevelled because you’d been sofa surfing for weeks now and your friend Penelope has only just notified you that her boss has a spare room in his apartment and she can ‘try get you hooked up’.

So, two days after her phone call, you’re standing outside of a door that looks much too expensive for you to even be close too and before you can stop yourself you’re knocking on the pristine white paint and then there’s locks clicking and chains clinking and the door swings open and you’re face to face with the most gorgeous man on the planet.

He looks you up and down, tongue peeking out from between his lips to wet them, brushing over a patch of stubble and you find yourself having to wrench your eyes away from the scene. He steps back, gesturing for you to come inside.

“I’m Aaron,” he extends his hand, a polite smile gracing his lips as your fingers brush over the calluses on his palms, causing goosebumps to break out over your (thankfully sweater-clad) arms, “Penelope has told me a lot about you. Please, sit down,”

You’re hardly convinced this is the man your best friend had been telling you about. His soft smile, gentle words and overall kind demeanour was a complete 180 from the man your friend had described. Nevertheless, you perch yourself on the edge of a plush grey sofa, resting your hands on your denim-clad knees and look around anxiously, taking in the sparsely decorated room.

The living room is carpeted in a charcoal grey, bookshelves are dotted across the place, most of which are filled with criminal law books. There are two small picture frames, one with a picture of him and a small boy. A grin stretches over both of their faces, and the small boy has a glob of icecream on his cheek. Aaron is wearing a pair of sunglasses, but they’re pushed to the top of his head, and his cheek is squished to the boy’s forehead, exposing some laughter lines around his cheeks and eyes.

The other picture isn’t nearly as interesting, though. It’s a picture of what you assume is the whole BAU team. You spot Penelope, and Derek (who you only know from the countless pictures of him Penny had shown you) then you guess Spencer is next to Derek, then Emily, JJ and Rossi respectively. A few feet from them stands Aaron, his smile more reserved than the others, and nothing like the one in the other picture.

You’re so consumed with your examination of the pictures you barely register the sofa cushions dipping under his weight, or the clinking of glass against enamel coasters, or really anything until the sound of Aaron softly clearing his throat damn near makes you jump out of your skin.

You try not to show too much of a visible reaction to him, mostly so he won’t think you’re just a creepy stalker who wants to stare at pictures of him all the live-long day. Aaron pretends not to notice anything, mercifully turning his gaze from yours and spinning a set of keys attached to a D-ring on his pointer finger.

“Um, so I assume you have questions for me before I like, steal your spare room or whatever,” you chuckle awkwardly to yourself, and Aaron offers you a tight-lipped smile in response. It’s only now that you realise he’s pushed up the sleeves of his button down to expose his forearms, and suddenly you’re distracted all over again but this time by dark hair contrasting just barely sunkissed skin, by bulging veins twisting and turning and pulsing under layers of skin, by muscles with soft indentations of old scars.

“Well,” once again, you’re pulled away from fantasy land by the older man, but it’s not completely unwelcome because his deep gravelly voice is something that you don’t think you’ll ever tire of, “first things first. As you know, I’m an FBI agent, which means my schedule is mostly very hectic, and would sometimes be home very late in the night, is that okay?”

You furrow your eyebrows, why would that be an issue for you? “No, uh that sounds fine for me, I’m kinda an insomniac anyways, so it’s not like it would disturb me much,”

“Well, that’s a relief,” and you can tell from his now relaxed shoulders that he's telling the truth, “what do you do for work?”

“Oh, well I was in finance, but that’s not really my scene, so I quit,” you didn’t catch him staring at your smile as you spoke, nor the way his gaze travelled ever so slowly down and becomes glued to the subtle way your tits brushed against each other as you spoke. Aaron determines that you’re definitely not wearing a bra. Do you always do that? Walk into a complete stranger's house with no bra? God, if it were two degrees cooler in here then he would be able to see your nipples poking against the fabric of your only slightly revealing shirt, he could practically see them already, all he had to do was reach out and- “so now, I’m focusing on what I really want to do; my writing,”

“Oh,” he clears his throat desperately, pulling at his collar and praying you don’t notice where his eyes were just affixed to. His panic quickly settles when he notices your obliviousness to the situation, and he lets his tongue dart out to wet his lips, imagining that his tongue could grace any part of your body, oh what he would give to taste you.

“Oh god, that makes me sound like I make no money, look, I’ve got savings and stuff so I can afford to pay rent, and- and I have family money too but,” you cut yourself off, and Aaron realises that he must’ve gone too long without replying because now you’re panicking and he’s about to interject but then you’re talking again, “I’ll- I’ll do all the housework and- and I’m not loud I promise, I- I just can’t keep sleeping on my friends sofas,”

“Sweetheart,” he’s a little ashamed at the fact his cock gives an interested stir at the thought of you acting like his little housewife, keeping everything perfect and waiting for him to come home, and his predicament becomes even worse when tears begin to fill your eyes and now he has to school his expression to remain soft and inviting - absolutely not to look as depraved as he feels, “I don’t care about rent, I bought the place outright, and I think it’s wonderful that you’re following your dreams instead of doing something you hate,”

Your cheeks burn under his gaze, and you can’t meet his eyes, desperately blinking away the tears still building up from your annoyance at yourself for crying at something so silly. You nod along to his sentiment, if only to give yourself something to do to distract yourself from the oncoming tears.

You resign yourself to discussing practicalities for the next hour or so; where you would sleep, what his usual schedule was like, the security and alarm systems, the motion activated cameras, if you wanted any furniture moving into any communal spaces (you desperately wanted a more comfortable sofa than the barely sat in one, but you bit that comment down and asked if there was room for your plush loveseat) and then he gives you a tour of the house. He shows you around the kitchen first, and you make a mental note of a barely used pack of expensive looking coffee, sat next to a cheaper looking brand and theorised he must only drink one cup every morning at home and didn't want to allow his good stuff to go stale in the warmer throughout the day. Next is his office, which he kindly requests you don’t enter unless he is home due to its sensitive contents, and you knew enough not to ask questions, but you do straighten out a stack of files that look as if they’re about to topple over. After that is his own bedroom, and it’s as neat-messy as the rest of his house. You can tell some things are left looking messy simply out of convenience (for instance the duffle bag settled by the front door, or the fresh suit laid out on his dresser), and not because he’s a slob. His bed is made with military precision, and everything about his room is perfect, bar the thin layer of dust settling almost everywhere except his bed and the doorway. Next, he shows you a smaller room directly adjacent to his. It looks as if it’s cleaned even more meticulously than his own room, because there isn’t even a speck of dust across the expanse of the place. What surprises you, though, is that it's clearly the bedroom of a child. The bed isn't even a single mattress, and it's covered in Spiderman sheets. The bedside tables are decorated in figurines and the lampshades have the visage of Batman? Or maybe that star wars guy? You don’t know, pop culture isn’t really your thing. You turn back to him.

“I probably should’ve told you about this,” his neck burns red and he brings a hand up to scratch nervously behind his ear, “I, uh, I have a son,”

You bite down on your tongue, repressing any response as you wait for him to continue.

“Jack, his uh, his name is Jack. Me and my wife- my ex wife, rather, had him just over four years ago,” he clears his throat and looks down at his feet, “he, well it’s for the best probably, he lives with her now, but I see him every time I get the day off, I hope you don’t mind,”

“Mind?” You spit out. Then, a grin splits across your face, and you’re venturing further into the room, running your fingers over an assorted stack of toys, ones more obviously more used are piled closer within reach and then you’re whirling around to look at him, “tell me about him,”

And he does; he spills every detail he can about his son, Jack Hotchner. He tells you about the picture in the living room, about how excited he was about his first ever big boy bed, about how he could stay awake to watch Star Wars for hours past his bedtime (and that’s when you realise it’s Darth Vader on his lampshade, not Batman), and how his favourite ice cream flavour is chocolate, but not just any chocolate, the chocolate ice cream he asks his dad for at the fair after they go on the teacup rides. After a long twenty or so minutes of you exploring the room and Aaron rambling from where he now sits on the edge of his son’s bed, you’re ready to move on.

He leads you onwards, down the hardwood hallway and into another room. It’s completely empty, save for an expensive looking bed frame, mattress and duvet set. The walls are a stark white and sunlight bleeds through the closed window, exposing the thick layer of dust, some of it kicked up just from the door opening and floating about the room. You try to stifle the cough that rises in your throat as you inhale, but it doesn’t work and soon you’re choking and Aaron is dashing across the room to open the window.

“I’m so sorry, I’ll have the room cleaned before you move in,” his face glows red again, and you send him a pained smile to let him know it’s okay, in between coughs of course, “I’ve been meaning to get around to it, but you know, work gets in the way,”

“No, no it’s fine really,” you rub at your eyes with your fists and take a better look around, albeit from the doorway, and you note the room’s impressive size. Really, despite the mental-hospital-esque coloured walls, you can really see this being a good room for you.

Before you can say anything else, Aaron is ushering you out with a hand on the small of your back and the door shuts softly behind you.

“Well, that's pretty much everything, oh except the utility room,” he walks off and you follow him to a room just off the kitchen, stocked with a washer, dryer and several staacks of cleaning supplies. You take a gleeful look around, sifting through drawers of bleach and scrubbers and sprays. Yes, this place will do.

–

You iron everything out with your new roommate (roommate!!), and by the time you’re finished its nearly nine pm and you’re yawning into your arms and nearly knocking over a precariously balanced pizza box from the coffee table as you stretch the tiredness settling deep within your bones. You’d ordered some pizza to share at some point after five, and a few lonely slices are left going stale in the soggy box so you stand and bring the box to the kitchen and ferret through the drawers and cupboards for a tupperware to contain the leftovers. Aaron tries to protest, saying that he should do some of the work, but you bat his hands away and shove the freshly filled box into the unsurprisingly empty fridge.

You're about to bid your goodbye and drive back to your friend's house when Aaron grabs your hands in his.

“Stay here tonight,” his eyes bore into yours, and suddenly you feel wide awake, “you've been practically falling asleep on my arm since eight, and I don’t want my new roommate to fall asleep at the wheel and crash into a tree or something,”

You bite at your lip, and glance at the hard sofa and try to imagine yourself trying to fall asleep on that, rather than your friend’s pull out bed.

“You can have my bed, I think you’ve had enough of sleeping on couches for a lifetime,” he gives a small, tired chuckle and you gnaw on your lip again. You can’t take his bed, not after he’s paid for dinner and agreed to let you live in his home. Again, Aaron senses your apprehension, “seriously, it’s fine. C’mon, you can borrow some of my clothes to sleep in,”

You end up in Aaron’s bed, wearing what you’re sure is the only shirt he owns that isn’t a button down and a pair of sweatpants you have to tie at the waistband with a bobble, a pile of your skirt, shirt, panties and bra just next to you. Aaron bids you goodnight, and concedes himself to a night on the uncomfortable sofa. It takes you almost an hour of tossing and turning to finally sleep, and you don’t wake until the alarm clock next to you reads 9:34am. But, as you roll over to put on last night’s clothes on, you notice one very disturbing thing.

Your panties are missing.

#•megs smutty daydreams•#aaron hotch x reader #aaron hotchner #aaron hotchner x reader #aaron hotch imagine #aaron hotchner smut #aaron hotch fic #aaron hotch fanfiction #aaron hotchner x fem!reader #aaron hotch hotchner #criminal minds smut #criminal minds x y/n #criminal minds x reader #criminal minds fluff #criminal minds x fem!reader #criminal minds fanfiction #criminal minds

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theemporium · 17 days

Note

♥️47 w/ Nico Hischier… please and thank you

this is inspired by the return of the moustache but fuelled by my brain being fried from uni so the smut is mediocre at best🤠thank you for requesting!

47. "You heard me. I want you to sit on my face."

To be perfectly candid, you were less than subtle about admiring your boyfriend’s new look for the off-season.

But, as his girlfriend, it was your right to helplessly ogle your boyfriend after he decided to shave the rest of his beard short and leave his moustache to be accompanied by some stubble. Add in the fact he had still put off cutting his hair—thank every fucking superior being for that one—and had a new glow about him since the stress of the hockey season was finally off his shoulders, it was impossible not to stare.

He was just so pretty and he was all yours. And, yeah, you really fucking missed staring at Nico’s face with no practices or games or meetings getting in your way.

It just never occurred to you that Nico would ever call you out on the blatant way you would ogle him since he brought back the moustache, which is why his words completely caught you off guard.

“What?”

Nico grinned at you, so fucking smug and sure of himself as he placed his hands on his hips like you were talking about the weather. “You heard me,” he said, his voice low and sweet and far too fucking melodic for you to really concentrate on his ego when he sounded like that. “I want you to sit on my face.”

You blinked, standing in the doorway between your shared bedroom and the joined ensuite bathroom. You stared at him, your mind whirling with a million different thoughts but you couldn’t bring yourself to say a single word.

“Been thinking about it all week,” he continued as he started to close the distance between you, his eyes glinting with an emotion that made your stomach twist in desire. “I’ve seen the way you’ve been looking, baby. Tell me you haven’t thought about it too.”

“I—” You stuttered out, your face burning in response. Because truthfully, you had been thinking about it. But your thoughts had been based around Nico pinning your hips to the mattress, to settle between your legs and to let you feel the scratch of his beard across your sensitive inner thighs until you were left begging and panting and whining for more.

It never crossed your mind for you to be the one on top.

“Just want my pretty girl on top of me,” Nico hummed as he reached for you, his large hands engulfing the back of your head and it made your brain short circuit for a few moments. “Let me have a taste, hm?”

“Nico,” you murmured, and the hesitancy was clear in your voice. “I don’t know if it’s a good idea—”

He frowned. “Why not?”

“I–” You let out a noise before shrugging. “What if I squish you or—”

You barely had a chance to react to the snort he let out before his hands dropped from your head, reaching for your thighs and lifting you into his arms with an ease that didn’t feel human at all. You blinked, left speechless as Nico shamelessly grinned up at you, walking back towards the bed with you in his arms.

“I can handle it, baby,” he said, squeezing the fat of your thighs as he emphasised his point. “Now, be a good girl and sit on my face, hm? Wanna fucking drown in you.”

And you really couldn’t be blamed for being unable to say no to those pretty brown eyes staring up at you like he wanted to devour you. You could, however, be blamed for that naive voice in the back of your mind that told you that you’d be in control because you were on top.

It took all of five minutes for that belief to crumble the second Nico got his hands on you.

“Fuck,” you let out a high-pitched whine, head tipped back and lips parted as you felt his lips wrap around your clit and suck, humming deeply as he did.

His arms were locked around your thighs, keeping you in position with his hands pawing your ass and guiding your rocking hips. His hair was dishevelled and messy, spread across the pillow like some twisted angelic painting whilst those pretty brown eyes were now glued to you, watching as he licked and sucked and kissed every single noise out of you.

His chin and lips were glistening with your release, that moustache fucking soaked and his tongue branded with the taste of you—and fuck, Nico truly believed he was in heaven. Because that was the only reasonable explanation for this: for the sight of you on top, your hips rocking and your soaked cunt at his mercy, your hands squeezing your tits and your mouth moaning his name.

It was fucking heaven and it made him rock hard in the flimsy shorts he had put on earlier, probably seconds away from busting a load despite not even touching himself once.

His only coherent thought was that he should have shaved earlier if this was what he could gain from it.

“Fuck, Nico, baby,” you stuttered out, all breathy and panting as you reached one hand down to tangle in his hair, tugging lightly as he groaned against your cunt. “Shit, I-I can’t.”

“One more, schat,” he murmured, his warm breath fanned across your core and it made your legs twitch, and it made Nico smile against your cunt in response. “Please, baby, let me taste you. Let me taste my pretty girl.”

And you were fucking putty in his arms, letting yourself tip over the edge as you clung onto the headboard to keep yourself from keeling over.

Yet, all he could think was that he definitely wasn’t getting rid of the moustache anytime soon.

#cece's cocktail celebration #nico hischier #nhl #new jersey devils #nico hischier x reader #nico hischier x you #nico hischier x y/n #nico hischier fic #nico hischier one shot #nico hischier smut #nhl x reader #nhl x you #nhl x y/n #nhl fic #nhl one shot #nhl smut

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tonguepiercedanyway75 · 7 days

Text

Could I easily fill his shoes? // Matty Healy x Reader

a/n: I’d love some requests!

content warnings: smut, fluff, dirty talk, praise, cheating, just let it happen ;) 18+ MDNI

summary: since the night Matty and you slept together your boyfriend can’t fulfill the job anymore. You need Matty to help you.

────────────────────────

“Hmm?” he purrs, his voice is low and throaty, perfect for this time of night. You catch your lip between your teeth.

“Shit, did I wake you?” The digital clock on your nightstand displays the numbers 02:28.

There is a low chuckle on the other end, laced with a hint of amusement. "You could say that. But I'm wide awake now. What do you want, love?"

Your cheeks flush at the sultry tone in his voice, your mind racing with possibilities. "Uh-“ You think that everything you’re going to say is going to sound ridiculous. “Shit,” you mumble, not knowing how to phrase it.

“Cat got your tongue?” His chuckle rumbles through the line, a sound that sends a wave of heat coursing through your veins.

“Fuck you,” you hiss, your cheeks flushed red from only his voice. God. Matty’s voice does more to you than anything your boyfriend does. “Can you come over?” You ask.

“Is he gone?” You hear shuffling, a blanket being lifted and a fast movement of fabric on skin.

“He left 15 minutes ago, told him I have a migraine,” it’s wrong to lie and it’s even more wrong when he tried to make you feel good for an hour. How could you possibly tell him that your minds on someone else the entire time.

Matty tuts, “that’s not true, is it?”

“You know it isn’t,” because he knows it’s his fault, “come over please,” you whisper the last word and hope he doesn’t hear your desperate plea.

“Already begging? That little twat left you desperate didn’t he?” His words hit her like a cold shower.

“Matty-,” you didn’t even know what to say but it doesn’t matter cause Matty interrupts you.

“Leave your window open,” you leave it open anyway every night, hoping for a surprise visit. You hear a zipper and the flick of of a lighter. “Oh, and hands off.” He hangs up leaving you burning with need.

You’re laying over the blanket, letting the cold air hit your nipples which are hardening through the thin shirt you’re wearing. You’re not wearing any panties, the shirt long enough to cover your thighs. You’re squirming, squeezing your thighs together to try to get rid of the ache, unsuccessful.

Turning the little light off next to you, you close your eyes, distracting yourself from the desire rushing through your body and the wetness already dripping down your inner thighs. Your room has a blue glimmer now, the full moon only shining on your bed.

You hear rustling outside your window and a quiet grunt. Your room is on the second floor and to reach or to sneak out of your window, one has to climb a rocky wall.

“There you are,” Matty takes one last drag of his cigarette before tossing it out the window.

His hair is tousled, dark strands falling across his forehead in a disheveled yet undeniably sexy manner. A hint of stubble lined his jaw, adding to his rugged appeal.

The last time Matty came over to finish what your boyfriend couldn’t end was a week ago and that was too long. You can’t wait any more.

You get up from the bed and pull his leather jacket off him, not waiting another second to kiss him. His hands grip your hips, pulling you flush against his body.

But just as quickly as it had begun, he pulls away, leaving you breathless and wanting more. A smirk plays on his lips as he his eyes twinkle with mischief. “So eager,” he bends down to throw his shoes off in slow motion, driving you up a wall.

“Did you touch yourself?” He asks, sitting on the bed, leading you towards him by grabbing your arm. You stand between his legs, his hands going under the shirt to squeeze your ass, groaning when he notices you’re not wearing anything else. “Fucks sake.”

You shake your head at his question, pulling one leg over his lap to sit down on him, the seam at the crotch of his pants rubbing against you. You whimper, still not moving because you don’t want Matty to think you’re not doing what he says.

“C’mon, take what you need from me,” your thighs getting a light squeeze from his hands, encouraging you. “You deserve it.” He groans as you roll your hips instinctively.

“He couldn’t even get you off like this?” It’s a stupid fucking question because your boyfriend is the most vanilla boy you’ve ever met. That’s the problem: he’s a boy.

You shake your head and he grunts when you roll your hips again and whine as the friction presses against your clit. He’s kneading the meat of your ass, every time you’re on him, he pushes you further up. “But you can, love, get off like this?”

“Yeah,” you breathe.

“Not even wearing anything, s’ easier to rub yourself on me,” maybe you should care a little more, but all you can think about is fucking yourself against his bulge, his hands clamped over your hips as he guides your pace.

“That’s right,” he grunts, looking up at you with dark eyes. “Grind on me, make yourself feel good.”

“I know how to make my girl feel good,” my girl. The moan of his name that leaves your mouth is a surprise and he’s totally taking the piss out of praising you like this.

It hits you out of nowhere, your cunt pulsing, fingers digging into the meat of his shoulders as you gasp and writhe. “Yeah, you’re so good love,” he murmurs.

Matty strokes your back, trailing wet kisses down your neck. You look down, seeing the wet patch on his crotch. “Made a mess,” he says.

It turns you on so much more, now that you’ve finally let go you don’t want the feeling to end. “Want you Matty.”

“Yeah?” He grabs your hips and lets you fall onto your back. He pulls his shirt over his head, revealing all his tattoos but your eyes drop to his boxers. His cock is already licking with pre-cum, forming a dark spot. He gets rid of the pair as well, bending forward to look for his wallet.

You stop him by grabbing his neck to kiss him. “Don’t, I’m on the pill.” He grunts, and throws himself on top of you, finally lifting the shirt off of you.

“Did you let him fuck you raw?” He asks, swirling his tongue around your nipple while his thumb rubs slow circles on your clit. The sensation is too much at the beginning, your back arching of the bed.

“Never,” it’s the truth.

“That fucking Tosser is missing out.”

“He ever even ask you what y'like? How y'wanted it?" You shake your head and Matty notices your eyes have squeezed shut like you're trying to not fall apart.

“So fucking wet,” he fucks his fingers in and out of you, spreading them inside you to open you wider for him. You're squirming, unconsciously grinding into his touch to force him deeper. His tattoed hand over your stomach to hold you steady against the mattress.

“Just fuck me please,” you need to feel him again. On you. In you. All the time.

“Want me like this or-“ you nod, your hand reaching between your body’s, lining up his tip with your entrance.

He's grabbing at your ribs and hoisting you on him, sliding into your soaking cunt too fast, burying himself in your walls and hissing a breath in through his teeth. “No one knows how to treat you right, only I do.”

"Matty," you're gasping. You're so fucking tight around him, squeezing him so perfectly.

“He’ll never manage to make you feel as good,” he falls forward over you, pressing his body weight into yours as he begins a blistering pace. He fucks you deep and fast into the mattress, every inch of your body colliding with his. He can feel all of you this way, every piece of skin.

“Jesus-“ he groans next to your ear, “you’re mine.” He grabs your wrists on either side of your head, bites down on the skin of your shoulders, trying to make you feel so good.

“Matty-“ you repeat his name over and over again, and he responds by lazily licking into your mouth, his thrusts increasing in speed and ferocity, jostling you under him as he tries to make you cum again.

You’re squeezing him, arching your back against his body, eyes rolling back and slamming your nails into his back. “Fuck-“ you whine.

“Gonna cum again? Do it, c’mon.” He’s hitting your spot over and over again and he feels you let go around him again.

Your hazy mind can still process his groans and flushed, sweat-slick skin, and the stutter to his hips as he fills you up. “Too good to me, fuck.” He whispers.

He’s pulling out slowly, a whine slipping through your lips at the loss of his warmth.

“Fuck-“ you say, throwing your head back, “thank you.”

“How could I ever deny you?” He asks, pulling his boxers on, then laying next to you, kissing your shoulder lovingly. “You don’t have a migraine do you?”

You giggle and smack his chest, before burying your head in it. “No, stay for a while.”

It’s not what you usually do but he consumes you. The sex is everything, his touch, his lips, his words, those things consume you.

“You deserve better than that wanker,” Matty never says his real name, only insults are slipping out of him and it makes you smile every time.

You shrug against him until his hands cradle your face, “you do.” His lips are on you again, promising you that he’s better for you.

“Are you ever gonna leave him?”

You think about it. You’ve known your boyfriend your whole life, he’s a good boy, he goes to church, your parents know him. He dates to marry. You’re his first love. He’s not yours though.

“I don’t know,” you whisper and you miss the flash in Matty’s eyes. He nods understandingly without understanding why you would stay with him. You call Matty every time after you had sex and didn’t finish because Matty’s the only one who ever could.

“Stay the night.” You cling to him, draping a leg over his thigh, his body burning up.

He does everything to make you happy because he knows he won’t ever.

#the 1975 #matty healy #ross macdonald #george daniel #adam hann #the 1975 fic #matty healy smut #matty healy fluff #matty healy imagine #matty healy oneshot #matty healy x you

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starstruckmiraclekitty · 1 year

Text

Simon wasn't one to wear his emotions on his sleeve. Emotions weren't a strong suit of his, and he'd learned throughout the years how to keep the past buried. Throughout your relationship, he'd kept himself very reserved, only letting you in on small parts of his life and his troubled past.

He never wanted to burden you with the things he'd endured, as a small part of him worried you wouldn't love him because of it, or that you simply wouldn't be able to handle all of his baggage, so he kept it inside. That wasn't to say it didn't weigh on him though. To carry that much baggage took its toll on the man, and some nights were worse than others.

You heard a knock on your door late at night, drawing your attention away from the show you were watching.

You scuffled your fluffy sock covered feet to the door, and peeked through the peephole to find your boyfriend Simon on the other side.

You unlocked the door and opened it, causing Simon to turn and look at you. He looked disheveled. His mask was off displaying stubbled cheeks and dark circles under his eyes.

He started at you a long moment before engulfing you in a hug. It took you a moment to process, as it was not often he showed any sort of physical affection. You breathed in his scent, and you stood on your toes as you wrapped your arms around his neck.

You stood there for some time, Simon clearly not wanting to let you go, as his tight grip on you did not falter in the slightest.

"Are you okay?" You asked quietly, pulling away to meet his eyes.

Simon took a moment before answering. He didn't want to scare you away, but he needed you now more than ever. "No."

You nodded your head and grabbed his wrist to pull him inside. He followed you wordlessly, and proceeded to sit on the couch as you instructed.

"Do you want to talk about it?" You asked, sitting on your knees in front of him, stroking his clasped hands.

Simon said nothing, as he let his head hang down slightly, pressing a kiss to your knuckles.

"Okay, you know what we are gonna do? I'm gonna go make some brownies, I'll pop open a bottle of wine, and we can watch some trashy reality show to drown out your thoughts, okay?'

He gave you a small nod as you gave him a kiss on his nose before making your way to the kitchen.

He took in his surroundings as you started the brownies, sighing deeply. There was always something comforting about being in your presence. He knew he didn't deserve you, your kind touches and gentle heart, but my God, he'd stay by your side for as long as you'd let him.

Later on, as the two of you fried your brains with reality TV and ate all the brownies you could handle, Simon slowly went to lay his head on your lap.

You smiled warmly down at him and started to massage his scalp gently. Simon relaxed, truly, for the first time that night, and he nuzzled his head into your legs.

He let his mind wander to you, and a warm feeling filled his insides. He turned his head to you slightly. "I love you."

You let out a silent gasp, and tears started to form in your eyes. It was the first time in your year long relationship he'd ever said those three words to you.

"I love you too, Simon Riley. Always."

Simon smiled to himself before returning his head to your thighs, as you continued to thread your fingers through his hair softly.

As he laid there, he finally was able to realize that being taken care of by someone you love, might not be such a bad thing after all.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Just a lil blurb of Simon telling you he loves you for the first time. Thinking of making it for the rest of the gang too🙈

#cod imagine #simon riley imagine #mw2 imagine #ghost x reader #simon riley x reader #ghost mw2 #simon ghost riley x reader #simon ghost riley #ghost imagine #ghost cod #mw2 x reader

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luveline · 2 years

Note

Maybe one where Eddie and reader are asleep at night in his bed and he wakes up in the middle of the night to see reader isn’t there but he hears giggling in the living room/kitchen and he gets up and sees her and roan just talking and maybe eating a bit of cookies or drinking milk or something and Eddie joins his girls 😌

this is very sweet, thank you for your request ♥ fem!reader

It's very dark when Eddie wakes. He stretches his hand across the short length of sheet where he's hoping he might find you and comes up empty.

Night seeps in through the closed curtains. His room smells like you, your shampoos and perfumes, your lotion, your skin. But you're nowhere to be seen, and he blinks against the emptiness of the room with a confused frown.

It's unusual to say the least. Eddie doesn't often wake up when you're beside him, the last time had been because Roan, his troublesome, adorable daughter, had wormed her way between you both and slept with the world's biggest smile on her face. He decides you must be in the bathroom and lets his eyes close again. He can't sleep until you're back.

You don't come back. He scrunches up his face, rubs his stubbly jaw and pulls himself into a sitting position. He'd slept so heavy his back aches with it, spine curving inward. There's a sudden giggle, sharp and so obviously his little girl that he scrounges for a hair tie to pull his curls from his face and stands, gearing up to investigate.

He tries to mask his footfall down the hall, taking flat steps one after another, sock to cushy rug. Roan's laughter floats down to meet him, scratchy with tired but always as pretty as the very first time she'd laughed when she was a baby.

At the table, Roan sits in her special chair — a very ordinary chair with two pillows stacked on top of one another so she can see over the table — with a chocolate chip cookie in one hand, a warm glass of milk in the other. The glass has fogged between her small fingers to form a clandestine print.

Predictably, you sit in the chair beside her with your own glass and a paper towel with an untouched cookie laid on top. Your hair's out of your face for sleep and Eddie goes crazy at the sight of you. Your eyes are puffy with fatigue, so obviously tired as you watch Roan chatter but you don't stop smiling for a second.

It floors him. He's seen it hundreds of times before, and it still floors him. Your pajama top falls dishevelled off of your shoulder, your pants are creased. You're a rumpled mess of a girl and all Eddie wants to do is spirit you and his baby back to bed where you can get the rest you both clearly need.

As if driving home his point, Roan yawns big and nearly drops the cookie she's holding, a smudge of melted chocolate on her cheek stretching with the motion.

"And he's your friend?" you ask her.

Roan nods and focuses very hard on fitting her cookie back into the glass of milk. She holds it there for a few seconds, eyes squinting, says, "Yeah, he's my friend," and drops the cookie into the glass. Milk splashes up the sides and she gasps in surprise.

Eddie leans his weight against the doorway, too far in to announce himself and extremely interested in this mysterious friend.

"You want him to be your boyfriend?" you ask knowingly, taking the glass from her hand gently to fish out her cookie. Only a half inch remains dry of milk. "Babe, do you want a new cookie?"

Boyfriend?

She takes the softened cookie and emits a distinctly gremlin-like sound, eating it with a sticky, doughy smile. "Thank you," she says.

I'm such a good dad, Eddie thinks smugly. The smugness doesn't last.

"Who wants a boyfriend?" he asks.

You jump. Roan turns five shades of pink and crams what's left of her cookie into her mouth rather than answer, a tactic he uses all the time and wishes she'd never caught onto.

"Me," you say, clearly trying to take the fall. "You're just not enough for me, Edster."

"Well, say it to my face," he sighs, all dramatics as he sits down at the table and helps himself to a cookie.

It doesn't take more than one bite for him to realise why you hadn't been eating your own; eating candy after hours as an adult is near impossible. It's like everything gets sweeter as you get older.

He sets his gaze on Roan. "You have something to tell me?" Then, at her shocked face, "Or not, sweetheart. You don't have to tell me. But you do, so you should."

You snort and cough like you're trying to hide it from over the rim of your cup, giving him a look. You shake your head slowly from side to side. Don't be mean, it says.

I'm her dad, he wants to say in return. If I can't tease her a little, what's the point?

"Nothing to tell," Roan says lightly.

Again, Eddie curses himself for being her sole role model for near three quarters of her life. The damage is done, and she's an adorable, sly menace of a girl. He wouldn't have her any other way.

He feels pretty bad for the way her face has turned tomato red, though.

"You don't have to tell me anything you don't want to," he says softly, simply, reaching for her glass. He waits for her to push it toward him before he takes it and has a small sip.

You yawn and cover your face with the back of your hand. "I'm soooo tired."

"I was thinking it's a little late for a snack," Eddie says.

You start stretching, arms raised high and then behind your head until you've clicked three separate times. "I got up to pee and hit the toothbrush holder off of the sink. Woke poor Ro up and thought I'd," — you yawn here but keep talking anyhow, words all warped with your exhale, "make it up to her with something warm. I'm sorry."

The apology is added like an afterthought but sounds genuine. He wants to keep yanking your chain, maybe convince you that he's mad so he can see the amusing blaze of injustice in your eyes when he confesses. He really likes how you look when you're angry, but you don't get angry with him often. A white lie to see your eyebrows pinch and your lips all pressed together feels worth it.

But. You're tired, and he's tired, and messing with you in good faith is fun but not nearly as fun as assuaging your fears and getting a kiss for his efforts.

"It's alright," he says, smile all lopsided as you stand, "no harm done, right? It's Saturday."

You round Roan's chair and kiss the top of his head. "It's Sunday," you correct into his hair, punctuating with another kiss.

You ruffle the shorter front pieces of his hair with a happy sigh and turn to leave. "I have to go back to bed, my sweethearts. Lest I collapse in your kitchen."

Your voice drifts away as you do. Eddie and Roan share a look of humour and disbelief all rolled up into one. How quickly you jump ship.

"She sounds a bit too much like me lately," he says.

"Too much," Roan agrees severely.

He beams and pushes the small mess you've made into the middle of the table to be cleaned in the morning, happy enough that the idea of having to clean doesn't bother him at all, not one bit.

"Are you feeling ready to go back to bed?" he asks. Rather generously, he thinks. Most parents would say Okay, you had your treat. Bed time now. And they'd be well within their rights to.

She looks really cute, is all. Her curls are mussed by sleep, the ones closer to her neck tight with perspiration and the ones toward the back turned to frizz. He pushes his chair across the floor to stroke a particularly messy one away from her forehead and behind her soft ear.

"Do you have a boyfriend?" he asks.

"Daddy!"

"Sorry, sorry. It's okay if you do. You can tell me, too, and not just Y/N."

She shifts around in her seat. Eddie licks his thumb to wipe the chocolate chip remnants from her cheek and waits, thinking maybe she has something to say but needs to work up the courage first.

"It's a mommy thing," she says finally, shy, eyes to the table.

"Is that so?" he asks, just as quiet.

"Princess Peony talks to her mom about the prince," she says, "not her dad."

Eddie cups her cheek in his palm and holds her gaze. She has big brown eyes, so dark the pupil and the iris sink into one another.

"Okay," he says.

She slowly starts to smile, and then she huffs a laugh more breath than sound and seeks out her glass to finish her milk.

Eddie pulls his hand from her face and he and Roan stand almost in tandem. Or rather, he stands and Roan slides off of her chair gracelessly, shirt riding up her back.

Eddie takes the time to neaten it. He doesn't know why, she's only gonna writhe in her sleep and wake up in a worse state in a few hours. It just feels nice. He thinks it's the kind of thing his mom would've done for him.

"If you want to tell me about your boyfriend-" he begins, quickly amending when Roan squeaks her unhappiness, "your friend, then that's okay too. Just 'cos Princess Peony doesn't tell her daddy doesn't mean you can't. Okay?"

"Okay," she says. Eddie suspects she agrees to stop him from embarrassing her any further.

He nods to himself and considers it a job kind of well done, hand behind Roan's shoulders to encourage her back down the hall to her room.

"Kiss before bed?" he asks, leaning down with lips already pouted.

She rejects his offer. "Maybe... Maybe I can be in your bed."

He kisses her quick and pretends to think about it, "I don't know, mini-me, my kidney's still bruised from last week."

"Please?" she says, inescapable doe eyes peering up at him pleadingly.

He taps his chin. Wizened, his face must go through all manner of thoughtfulness. Roan, in her suspense, says, "Please please please please please-"

Eddie covers her mouth. She licks him. He blows up his cheeks and grabs her under the armpits, ignoring her nervous giggling and apologies.

You don't open your eyes as they approach, but you scoot to the very end of the bed to make room for one extra body. Eddie plops her down beside you and climbs right in, eager to sleep away the morning with his girls.

more eddie and roan

#eddie and roan #dad!eddie munson #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson imagine #eddie munson fanfiction #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson x fem!reader #fem!reader #eddie munson #stranger things x reader #stranger things fic #stranger things #stranger things imagine #stranger things fanfiction

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oh-saints · 2 months

Note

I found your page a couple of days ago and i love all your stories. I hope you won't be overwhelmed with the amount of Rúben dias requests you're about to receive from me 😂I would like to request something with ruben like oc is heavily pregnant and craving something weird (whatever weird this that comes into your mind lol) and he is laughing and teasing her about it lol, and oc us having non of it. Make it fluffy please 🥺

Thank you so much in advance

cravings

craving during pregnancy is something we all are aware of, rúben even looks forward to it from the moment you broke down the news you were expecting. but what if you ask for something he doesn’t even know it exists?

rúben dias x you part of dad!rúben collection

wc: 2k

note: something that’s been sitting way too long in the vault because of the research I had to do about this but only now finished bcs I had spurts of inspiration suddenly so surprise, surprise it’s a double update! LOLOL but as usual, I happen to write at dawn so this is not beta-read yet!

“gatinha,”

at your whisper, rúben stirred from his sleep. his eyes immediately spotted the clock on the bedside table. the numbers drawn 3:00 in the big, fat analogue font across the screen.

“uh, what is it?” being the alert husband he was, he turned around to face you in no time. “is there something you need?

you were already seated on the edge of the bed, meaning you had just finished from your early morning toilet trip. ever since you became pregnant, the little trip was a new routine for you—and maybe the majority of other pregnant women in general, and everyone around him who had become fathers before him had warned the footballer to watch where the mother was going.

that, and the last thing he needed was for you to slip somewhere when he wasn’t watching, when he couldn’t be any help for you. rúben and you had been waiting for your very own rainbow baby for years, so when you were granted one, it was within his most important priority list to make sure both you and the child—whose gender was still unknown yet; not even born yet and they already resembled your shy nature—happy and safe.

“are you okay?”

you didn’t hide your fascination towards the man in front of you, hair disheveled and eyes blurry with drowsiness. 5 years of marriage and you still found him endearing, even more so when he was now turning protective and alert all the time, borderline the leader of a pack with the appearance similar to a mother hen.

“i am, don’t you worry,” you said, your hands stroking the side of his face, feeling the little hairs growing to become stubbles in near future. “but i’m starving.”

ah… the infamous early morning craving.

you had never personally asked of anything alike before, contrary to what everybody else had been advising rúben that there would be a time where you would be craving something eventually in a very ridiculous time of a morning. four months in, and you were yet to show any signs of it so rúben naturally thought you were going to be an exception case. but look where they were now.

with a smile so apologetic for having to wake him up like that, rúben melted into the warmth your smile exuded. “of course, meu anjo. should i get my keys?”

rúben might be many things but you didn’t believe one chance that he was a psychic. “do you even know what i want to eat?”

“uh, mcdonalds?”

in any other time, you would’ve laughed at his meek attempt to guess your mind. given t was early in the morning, mcdonalds was supposedly a reasonable choice since it was open 24/7.

but you did not, in under any circumstances, want to touch your feet nearby that chain of foul fast food. besides, you were pregnant. didn’t your husband consider that the unhealthy intake of food would do no good for their baby?

rúben must’ve noticed the change in your demeanour. “did i say something wrong, my love?”

“yes, don’t assume anything you don’t know of.”

ah… this one rúben was familiar, the rapid change of your mood he had his money run for the fastest rollercoaster on earth, so he apologised instantly and asked you again what you wanted.

“remember the time when we travelled to asia?”

“you mean, our honeymoon?”

oh, you were so not having your husband being mr. i-know-it-all. “one more of that and i’m walking out.”

the threat was enough to make rúben circle around the bed before kneeling down in front of your frowning figure. not because he was a loser, but because he knew you might actually do it. you had a capability to do it, you always do, which was why he was drawn to you in the first place.

but he didn’t want a runaway wife, pregnant on top of that, so he quickly apologized again. “what about it, baby?”

“i want durian.” ＊✿❀○❀✿＊＊✿❀○❀✿＊＊✿❀○❀✿＊

what on earth is durian?

rúben sighed as he stared at his phone, the screen frozen helplessly for how many tabs he’d opened up in the browser. he rubbed his face rather roughly, due to the frustration, as he sat on the cover of the toilet and pondered his life choices and its respective life expectancies.

no one—literally no one—had warned him about the effect of any slip of tongue around a pregnant woman.

you were the calmest person he’d ever met, never wanting to bite off someone else’s head because it drained your precious energy. which rúben agreed to, and had been a devoted student of yours in terms of anger management on and off the field. but it was getting very hard to keep his own composure intact when you even lost yours.

ironically, rúben realised that one of you should still stay sane for the sake of everyone in this household, now inclusive of the unborn baby and it didn’t look like it was going to be you anytime soon.

so realistically, he couldn’t say to you that he didn’t remember a thing—not even an ounce of it—that you both had seen the fruit in question during your honeymoon. according to you, though, you both were even mesmerized by the look but decided that the possibility of dying because of the foul smell was larger than the delicious taste. as a result, when was the best time to try the exotic fruit than now, at 3.30 AM, when you were nearing the fifth month of pregnancy?

thus, his final resort to the internet, hoping for a miracle in the amount close to how much he needed to create the apple of his eyes with you.

but of course, the search engine didn’t show anything that could help him save his own lifeline this early morning from a pregnant wife that was so ready to stab the knife to his chest. the best option rúben got was to visit chinatown and head to the fruit market.

with a particular note from a lovely reviewer that the fruit was subject to a particular season—durian season, as the asians called it. if you were to seek for the spiky fruit beyond the particular calendar, then you either (i) got one that tasted as foul as it smells, or (ii) came home empty handed.

but of course, you wouldn’t get it, would you? rúben had already had it in his head you were going to wail at how incredulous his justifications are—what the hell is a durian season? we have spring, summer, autumn and winter and not durian! he could imagine—and would accuse him of trying to get his way out of the hard labour of satisfying you craving. worse, you’d scream out rúben should be responsible for this because he was the one who knocked you up and not vice versa.

other times, the footballer would just laugh it off. even at first, he did so and thought you were the cutest thing in his life, an actual living plushie. now, he just didn’t know what to do…

“what takes you so long?”

rúben jumped slightly at the question thrown at him from behind the door, the only thing separating him and his thoughts with the rest of the world and their expectation towards him. “nothing, meu anjo. i’ll be out in a minute.”

“good, because we gotta go. i’m sleepy already but the baby needs to eat.”

the husband closed his eyes once more, regulated his breathing, visualizing the flow of his breath before letting them out slowly—just the way you taught him how—before coming out of the loo. “baby, can i ask you one thing?”

you looked up, and rúben felt bad because you were already dressed and ready to go out and fight the coldness of an early morning. “what is it?”

“what if we go and have the durian in the morning?”

“rúben, it’s already morning now,” you clicked your tongue impatiently. “what are you saying?”

“i have a place to go already but they’re only open later at 8.”

and pregnant silence fell upon them, no puns intended.

“why at 8?”

“because that’s when the market opens,” rúben sat again in front of you, his hands were rubbing the back of your hand and on top of your knees respectfully. “i’m afraid we’ll have to go to chinatown to get them and it’s only open then.”

rúben was so ready with your fit, so he was rather surprised to hear you answer, “okay.”

okay?

okay?!

okay!

good god, the mood swing had returned it honestly felt like rúben had just jumped off the cliff with bungee jumping.

＊✿❀○❀✿＊＊✿❀○❀✿＊＊✿❀○❀✿＊

rúben was the one not okay that morning.

you turned out to opt out sleeping that night, despite being cuddled by your husband—which was your favourite way to go to sleep, even faring better than being lullabied—but rúben forgot you were living your life for two people for these nine months, so you still had a bar of energy and excitement while he had to drag his feet to the en suite bathroom.

you were literally counting in seconds as to when you’d get to the chinatown. your legs were involuntarily shaking from excitement, while he’d become more sensitive due to the lack of sleep (per his standard). as soon as the car stopped at the parking lot, you ran to the nearest entrance and lost yourself in quest to find the fruit. it wasn’t even 8 AM yet.

rúben had to call and asked you to share your live location, in case you were lost. but you were already moving in a pace so different than those mothers he’d gotten to know lately due to the parenting class, there was no way he could catch up.

“where are you?” as soon as his phone rang, he picked up, panting from the endless count of steps inside a huge market. “i cannot find you.”

coincidentally, you happened to call rúben in order to tell him that you were going to line in a queue to a small shop selling imported exotic fruits. the small hadn’t been open, yet there was already a waiting list, and in your dictionary of words it should only mean that the said shop was relevant to be called the local’s favourite.

“there you are,” rúben was about to comment

like a lucky charm, they were called in to make their purchase not long after.

you had your eyes already set on durian, so when the uncle asked if you wanted to eat at that place or bring home a peeled one, you didn’t hesitate to have them immediately. besides, you didn’t know how to split durian into two and whatnot.

“oh my god, so damn good!” you didn’t waste a minute to dance your little moves that you made to indicate you’re happy at that moment. “i can eat this every day for the rest of my life!”

good god, please help me.

“you should try, baby!” you were so excited to share your happiness with your husband, one hand holding a tiny bit of yellow and ready to be shoved into rúben’s mouth. who could deny such endearing request? “you’ve never had one before!”

and that was also the last time rúben had a bite of that yellow, mushy inside of durian. apart from the smell, he decided he didn’t like the texture and the bitter aftertaste.

but that was him. you, on the other hand, were munching the fruit as if it was going to be your last time seeing that scarce fruit. it appalled rúben too even at the length and amount you could eat in one seating. and looking at that, seeing you were this elated, it also made him full—in every sense of the word, literally and figuratively.

when you were done with the last chunk, you grinned at him, rather sheepishly. maybe you were drunk from the fruit, maybe you were shy because you just let out one hell of an appetite. “thank you for coming here with me.”

“anytime, my love, but we’re not doing this again. okay, meu anjo?” rúben wiped your fingers one by one from the sticky texture, internally wincing at the stinky smell. “promise me that.”

“sim, meu amor.”

#anon asks #oh-saints answers #oh-saints writes #oh-saints writes requests #ruben dias #rúben dias #ruben dias x you #ruben dias imagines #ruben dias one shot #ruben dias fluff #ruben dias blurbs #ruben dias drabbles #ruben dias fanfic #ruben dias fics #football fanfic #football fics #footballer x you #footie fics

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altsvu · 4 months

Text

be there for me

pairing: spencer reid x gn!reader

requested by @spenxerslut: 🧞 with the prompts “come back to bed” and “i need you” from the softer prompts list whenever u have time!<3

wc: 682

summary: you missed spencer. a lot. but when his job took precedent over his outside life, you convince him to tap back into reality just for a little while.

tw: fluff, and a whole lot of it

a/n: hey love! i wasn’t sure if you wanted a specific character, so i just did spencer reid! i hope that’s okay!!

criminal minds masterlist! ✯ taglist!

✯✯✯✯

You were going crazy at the fact that Spencer was away all week. He checked in with you whenever he could but even then, it wasn’t enough. You wanted him here, with you, cuddling up on the couch with greasy pizza watching trashy sitcoms for fun.

When you got that text from him that he was coming home and the time he’d be at the airport, you raced over as fast as you could.

After waiting for what felt like ages, you saw him. Long floppy disheveled hair, stubble decorating his cheeks and chin, as well as around his upper lip, lanky tall Spencer.

This is what you wanted. As a matter of fact, WHO you wanted.

You got out of the car as he was coming closer and closer to you. “Spencer!” You squealed. The both of you had your arms out and you fit perfectly into his arms just as he fit perfectly into your arms.

“Y/N, I missed you so much, you don’t even understand.”

“I missed you too.”

“When we get back home, I’m gonna give you all the love in the world.”

And he was about to do just that.

Until he got the call.

But Spencer just got home, you thought. You never really understood how time consuming and demanding his job as an FBI agent was.

“Baby, I’m so so sorry,” Spencer said. “Tonight was supposed to be all about you.

You frowned but you understood. “It’s okay Spence. I’ll be here when you’re back.

Spencer kissed you passionately before grabbing his go bag and walking out the door.

✯✯✯✯

This time, it was only three days that Spencer was away. You had talked to him about tapping back into reality for a little, but it was hard to convince Spencer to step away from the job he loved the most. Something must’ve changed when he texted you that he was getting some days off so he could spend some time with you.

Your lips curled into a big smile and you couldn’t wait for him to come home. This time, you were gonna wait for him at home because you had a little… surprise for him.

He came home and you were propped up in the middle of the bed under the covers, Spencer having no idea that you were naked under the covers.

You let him get settled before even coming to you for a kiss. You didn’t know if it was because you were horny for him, or if he was away for too long, but you wanted him.

Badly.

“Spence.”

“Hmm baby?” He asked, drying himself off from his shower.

“I need you.”

“I’m almost ready. I don’t want you to wait any longer than you have to.”

“Come as you are,” you pouted. “I like sleeping with you naked anyway.”

He got a little shy when it came to sleeping naked with you, but it was something that he was working on, with you, because he loved you.

“Only for you,” he smiled. He walked over to the other side of the bed, pulling off the towel wrapped around his waist. Once he got in the bed, your bodies touched and held you.

“I missed this. I missed you,” you said, shifting to face Spencer.

“Me too.”

And with that, he kissed your lips and wandered off into the abyss of intimacy.

✯✯✯✯

3:52am.

You opened your eyes ever so slightly to look at the alarm clock.

Immediately, you realized something wasn’t right. Where was Spencer? You hoped he didn’t have to leave again even though he took days off.

Despite the “buzzed” feeling you felt because of the amazing sex you had with him, it wasn’t the same like any other time.

“Spencer?” you whispered. You said his name again, a bit louder this time.

“Spencer, come back to bed…”

“I’m right here baby.” Spencer whispered. He was in the room and he had just come back from the bathroom. He climbed into bed and took you in his arms.

Suddenly, everything felt so right once again.

✯✯✯✯

taglist: @averyhotchner @storiesofsvu @ssaic-jareau @blackbeautifulqueen @mstrinnyb @will-on-the-internet

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sleepyhutcherson · 2 months

Text

nine in the morning

mike is a difficult morning person… and an even more difficult person to to wake up in the morning. he’s not in the best mood when you finally wake him so you try to cheer him up with pancakes.

REQUESTED! | MASTERLIST ໒꒰ྀིᵔ ᵕ ᵔ ꒱ྀི১

PAIRING : mike schmidt x gn!reader

WORD COUNT : 1.1k

CONTAINS : established relationship, fluff, affectionate mike, also whiny mike, he literally just wants to stay in bed lol, no use of y/n, slight grumpy mike.

A/N : i feel like i rarely write mike being grumpy,, but i definitely need to like that man definitely would be in a bad mood in the morning. also i feel like this rlly messy… sorry in advance. OH! and thank you anon for the request, sorry for taking so long w it but i hope you love it ◝(ᵔᵕᵔ)◜

Mike was snoring so loudly you woke up to the sounds. He was snoring especially loud today, he was probably comfortable. His face is buried in your neck, his arm draped over your waist, there’s barely any space left between the two of you, your legs entwined. You peek over at the clock on the nightstand and your eyes widen when you realise it’s nine in the morning! For a moment you panic—Abby had to be at school by now! Before you can sprint out of bed you remember it’s Saturday and Abby was at a sleepover. Anyway, it was way too late to be in bed so you press a gentle kiss on Mike’s temple, running your hand through his hair—in an attempt to wake him up. He moans softly at your touch, his stubble tickling as he moves around slightly causing you to giggle.

“Mike,” you call out in a whisper but Mike just buries himself deeper into your neck, wanting to stay in bed. He was comfortable like this, tucked into you. You continued to play with his hair despite knowing this put him to sleep but you loved playing with his hair as much as he loved having his hair played with.

When you attempt to unwrap yourself from him he tightens his grip around you. “Mike,” you giggle, trying to move but he was holding you down.

“Mmm.” He responds, his eyes still shut. You continued with his hair and Mike couldn’t help but moan softly in pleasure, he really just wanted to stay in bed with you a little longer. Okay, lie—he wanted to stay like this, in your embrace, forever.

“We have to get up,” you say, no longer whispering—if you wanted him to rise you had to just as well stop playing with his soft hair. He whines the moment you remove your hands from his hair. “Come on, love.” You put more force and manage to get out of his grip, sitting up in bed.

“Baby, please just a little longer.” Mike mumbles, burying his face into the white feather pillow now—it wasn’t as comfortable as your neck. He feels you get up from the bed and this gives him his answer; you wouldn’t be staying in bed a little longer. He groans, furthering his face into the pillow and you giggle at his reaction—clearly he wasn’t having the best morning anymore.

“Don’t be fussy, love. We can’t stay in bed all day.” You say through a smile as you watch him get out of bed, a scowl on his face. He looks at you with such annoyed yet sleepy eyes it makes you laugh a little, his hair dishevelled from sleep and your hands probably. “Come on, Mikey, don’t be a baby.” You tease.

He sends you a death glare, but you can see the corner of his lips twitching up into a smile he refuses to show. “Alright, alright, I’m sorry, Mike!” You laugh, but you really don’t want to have to deal with his grumpy and sassy attitude the rest of the morning. “How do pancakes sound? My way of making it up to you.”

He doesn’t say anything but you don’t miss the way his eyes light up at the suggestion like a puppy hearing the word “treat”, but he wants to stay mad at you for waking him and forcing him away from your touch so he leaves to wash up with a huff, it doesn’t matter, you know you’ve won him over.

—

You’re startled by arms wrapping around your waist, you giggle when Mike kisses the back of your neck. “You’re not angry anymore?” Mike’s chest is pressed up against your back, small kisses being left behind on your neck and shoulders.

“I am,” he says after a kiss. You roll your eyes with a small smile he can’t see. You flip the last pancake ready to add it to the stack you’ve already made. “Just wanted to stay in bed with you a little longer.” He murmurs against your skin, you can feel his lips against your skin.

You turn off the stove, sliding the last dark chocolate chip pancake with the rest. You turn around to face your boyfriend, he has this dreamy look on his face, his hands on your sides now, pulling you closer against him with a tired smile on his lips. “I thought you wanted pancakes. I even added dark chocolate to them.” You meet his eyes adoring the way he stares into yours. He smiles when you mention the last bit, it made his heart flutter that you remembered such a mere detail about him, how much he favoured dark chocolate over any other kind of chocolate.

“I wanted to stay in bed with you.” He sounds so whiny, almost like a petulant child. You laugh a little, a frown appearing on his face when you do.

“Sorry, you’re just so adorable when you're grumpy,” your hands are behind his neck, playing with his soft curls, a smile curling onto his lips when your fingers tangled up in his hair.

Mike melts at your touch—literally because next thing you know he’s burying his face into your neck once again, his arms tight around you, consuming you whole with his embrace. “Forget about the pancakes…I want you.”

Your touch. Your hands in his hair. The softness of your body pressed up against his. His arms around you, pulling you closer and closer. Your legs entwined. He wants to be consumed by your touch. He wants to hide away in the crook of your neck.

In simpler words: he wants you.

He kisses your neck then, his hands still wrapped around you. They move down to your hips, up to your waist. “Let’s go back to bed,” he kisses your neck, you throw your head back a little, giving him more access to your neck. You knew this was his way of trying to manipulate you back to bed.

“Mm,” you moan, your hands still in his hair. You almost agree…you almost consider abandoning your meal and letting Mike get his way. Yet you come to your senses, pulling him back, your hands on either side of his face now. You gaze into his eyes, he wasn’t tired—he wanted to stay in bed with you. He just wanted to have you by his side with no space between the two. You see the sadness in his puppy eyes when you pull him away, damn this man knew how to get whatever he wanted.

You smile despite your loss, you couldn’t help it, his eyes were just so pretty even if he used them to get his way. “Breakfast first. We can do whatever you want after.”

This makes him smile—nope, grin! The cheeky motherfucker; whatever he had in mind was definitely not sleep.

#mike schmidt x reader #mike schmidt #josh hutcherson fanfic #josh hutcherson x reader #mike schmidt x you #mike schmidt fluff #mike schmidt comfort #mike schmidt smut #five nights at freddy's #josh hutcherson fluff #mike schmidt angst #mike schmidt imagine #josh hutcherson smut #josh hutcherson #fnaf #fnaf movie

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yndrgrl · 9 months

Note

Could u do a aizawa fic pls

you found a new job under yandere! aizawa as a nanny for his cute kid

age gap. quirkless! au. soft! yandere. dom! aizawa

warning: nsfw, stalking, smacking/slapping, slight coercion??, punishment, daddy kink, sir kink, creampie

a/n: yayyy, first request 🥳 idk if you wanted a fluff or spicy fanfic... so i chose spicy haha. also sorry for taking so long, i just started a new job :0

---

it was a chance encounter, you truly believed. your first year of college just came to a close, & now you had too much free time while the money in your bank account was slowly declining. even if you saved as much as possible, you'd still end up spending all of your money then you'd have to dip into your savings account-- something that you didn't want to do.

so that began your search for a job. you used websites, applied in-person. you thought your resume was solid enough to land a job by now. but no. even though they claimed they were desperately hiring, they never hired you. some had the curtesy to at least let you know that they weren't going to go with you; the rest completely ghosted you. from receptionist to substitute teacher to bank teller, they all rejected you.

it was extremely frustrating to go through the interviewing process then you were ultimately rejected. it was as if someone had it out for you.

that chance encounter happened while you were on the phone with your best friend. you sat at a small round table in a cafe you frequent often.

"i just don't get it, jirou!" you exasperated, taking a sip from your drink. you let out a heavy sigh. with how much effort you've put into finding a new job, you should've been paid.

"i'm sure momo's dad has a job for you," the girl on the other line tried to assure. she was on her daily jog, so she was slightly out of breath as she spoke.

with your face propped in your hand, you responded, "we already tried. all the available positions are for people with like, actual degrees or something. besides, we're not close enough for her to make a whole new job for me."

"i'm sure a job will fall right into your lap," jirou said, rustles of clothes being picked up in the phone microphone. in some sort of messed-up irony, she was getting ready for work. the universe just loved toying with you.

you took a breath in to exclaim how much you needed the money, needed a job, when a man pulled out the chair across from your table. "i'm sorry, i don't mean to be rude & eavesdrop," he began, catching your attention.

"sorry jirou, i'll call you back in just a sec," you whispered, then you hung up. "um, sorry, can i help you?" you took mental note of his appearance-- you know, just in case something happens in this very public, very populated cafe.

just by looks, you'd assume he was in his early thirties. his jet black hair was tied into a bun, stray strands framing his face. there were bags under his eyes-- along with a noticeable scar under his left one. though his disheveled appearance, he took care of himself; his stubble was even & maintained. his shirt was tight around his arms & his chest, & you could faintly make out the shape of his muscles. & god, were they big. he was alluring, with that slight smirk of his.

he would've intimidated you, maybe even set off red flags if he didn't have a toddler bouncing on his leg, tugging his hair out of its bun. she bubbled words & strung together incoherent sentences in beg of attention of her dad.

"i apologize again, i really didn't mean to eavesdrop," he repeated. "it's just i couldn't help but overhear you were looking for a job?"

"yes!" you exclaimed, clearing your throat with an embarrassed blush on your face. "i am looking for a job."

"are you interested in being a live-in nanny for my little girl?"

it was a chance encounter, you truly believed.

the job & its perks were almost too perfect, but you're not complaining. you got to move into the basement of his suburban home for free, he would cook you breakfast & make sure the fridge & cabinets were well-stocked. for nearly $25 an hour, you were living the dream.

eri, his -adoptive- daughter, was an absolute gem as well. she was a cheery toddler who loves life. she's not a picky eater, she loves picking out her own outfits, & if you turned off her show, she would pout for a little bit then bounce back for the next activity. never once has she screamed & shouted. she would cling onto her father almost all the time when he was home.

speaking of her father, you learned his name was shota aizawa, so, naturally, you call him mr. aizawa or sir. he would constantly ask you would other things you wanted, not needed. he would take you shopping, calling it a bonus. your living area was decorated, & you didn't even have to pay a dime! there were times where you felt more like a sugar baby than a nanny, in all honesty.

not that you minded. one look at him & you could already feel your heart beat quicken. maybe it was your daddy issues that just scream when you choose a guy you're into, but he was exactly your type. he's protective, yet soft. strong, yet humble.

you thought you hid your crush on him quite well, treating him as though he were any other person. sometimes you felt like he knew you were so utterly attracted to him.

"y/n," he called out, drawing you out of thought.

"u-uh yes sir?" you replied. you were dressed down still as it was the morning. he just finished breakfast & eri was fast asleep, bound to wake up at any moment. it was just the two of you.

"are you okay?" he asked. aizawa awaited for your answer while he plated your breakfast. he always insisted so you learned to let him.

as he walked towards you with your plate, you answered, "yeah, i'm okay."

he set down the plate in front of you from behind. aizawa bent over so his head was leveled with yours. both of his arms encased you, & if it weren't for the back of your chair, you would've been pressed against his chest. "are you sure?" he whispered into your ear. "i'm hear to listen, if you'd let me."

you turned your head to look at him because, somewhere in your strange logic, you thought it would've reduced the tension & made you less embarrassed. it did the opposite.

the tips of your noses touched, his lips only a few centimeters from yours. with half-lidded eyes, the way he looked at you made you quiver. you tried to create space between the two of you, only for your head to meet his arm. centimeters turned to an inch of space. "i-i am okay," you repeated.

"aw, don't lie to me," he said in teasing voice, but you could've been imagining it. "i know it's been hard, tell me about it~" you never would've thought he would have this amount of confidence-- mainly because, if he did, he should've been bringing home loads of women.

"i-i, it's just, um," you stumbled over your words. he had a smirk, amused. his eyes glanced down to your glossy, shaky lips, then back into your doe eyes, just waiting.

"daddy," eri called from the top of the staircase.

"y/n," he whispered.

"y-yes, mr. a-aizawa?"

"eat your food before it gets cold." & with that, he pulled away from you, sauntering upstairs to grab eri. left stunned, you picked at your food.

oh, how you loved telling your friends about how hot your boss is.

after that incident, you had to tell all your friends about it, so, during your guys' weekly, weekend, late night group facetime.

"oh, my god!" uraraka squealed. "you HAVE to tell us more."

"yeah, that's literally so hot," jirou laughed. "see! you found a perfect job."

you had your phone propped against some random bottle as you snuck into the kitchen to fix yourself something to eat. another thing about eri is that, once she's asleep, nothing is waking that girl up. as for aizawa, he's usually up doing something else-- which explains the bags under his eyes & his scheduled naps.

while you dumped your noodles into a pot of boiling water, you said into your phone, "i'm not even exaggerating, it was the hottest thing to ever happen to me."

giggles erupted from your phone. "well, to be fair, you haven't had much luck with guys in the past," mina stated. it was true. while you were in high school -& this past year of college- you really didn't connect with any guys.

"maybe the problem was that they were all her age," joked jirou. hysterical laughter followed after. you were bent over, trying to catch your breath.

"that's not true! i could go for guys our age," you tried to defend yourself.

"okay, let's name every single one of your crushes ever," tsu said, her camera angle only showing her eyes.

all the other girls started to spit out whoever they could think of.

"remember keigo? he was like, 2 years older than us," momo said.

"that's not even that bad," you rolled your eyes, stirring your noodles & adding the seasoning packet.

"oh yeah?" jirou challenged, "what about shoto-"

"he's our age!" you cut her off to save yourself the embarrassment. "besides i didn't even like him."

"yeah cuz you liked his DAD," jirou finished, to which even more bowls of laughter erupted. okay, maybe you did have a thing for older guys.

"oh wow, y/n, i didn't know you had a thing for older guys," a voice spoke from behind you. you jumped, letting out a yelp.

your phone blasted all of your friends' laughter until you grabbed your phone & hung up. "o-oh hey, sir," you stuttered out. you hid your phone behind your back as if you were caught doing something wrong. you felt your phone vibrate, your friends begging to be on call again. "how much did you hear?"

"not much," shrugged aizawa as he grabbed a glass cup from the cabinet above you. that's when you realized how warm he was, how flushed his face was, how messy his hair fell. that's when you realized he was wearing nothing but a pair of sweatpants & a small towel around his neck.

"wh-what are you doing up," you coughed, taking in his physic-- just for a second, of course. veins protruded up his muscular biceps down his forearms. his pecs were in front of your face. they were well-toned. his washboard abs rose with every breath he took. you let yourself quickly -& ever so sneakily- glance downward. smaller veins & a trail of black hair were like arrows, pointing down his sweatpants. you gulped. was it normal to have a bulge that big-

"you know, it's rude to stare, y/n," aizawa whispered in your ear before pulling away. he walked toward the fridge that had a water dispenser attached to the freezer door. "i just need a cup of water after my workout," he answered in his regular voice to her question.

"oh, nice, nice," you said. a tense, awkward silence followed afterwards. "i-i'm sorry, i didnt mean to," you swallowed, "stare."

"right, i'm sure." & with that said, he left upstairs to get ready for bed.

aizawa loved teasing cute, little you. how could he not? your reactions were simply priceless. your face would get pink while you tried desperately to hide your embarrassment. your skittish eyes darted around the room just to avoid eye contact.

you weren't going to speak up because he knew that you "secretly" loved it. you'd probably make some lame excuse to defend yourself. you'd say, "well i'll let it slide just this once because i really need this job." which was the truth, it just wasn't the entire truth. aizawa knew though. he knew how much you craved his closeness.

he loves teasing you, but he's not a monster.

that's why he whispers in your ear, caging you between him & some other surface. he fed into your fantasies while fueling his own.

he thinks about you. all the time. more than you'll ever know.

what you believed to be a chance encounter was -in fact- a calculated, perfectly-executed plan concocted by aizawa. you might've never noticed him until he introduced himself, but you're so eye catching; it was only natural for him to notice you.

at first, he cursed himself to the moon & back for being attracted to someone ten years younger than him. you're only twenty-three, why is he so charmed by you?

determined to find a fault in your character, he learned your daily routine, find your social handles, grasping at anything. he was expecting to find out that maybe you're so much of an alcoholic that you practically live at a bar or that you have eighteen children with twelve different guys. but no, he found nothing terrible about you.

all of your habits he found adorable-- especially the face you make when you're frustrated. he would watch from afar as you grunted & groaned at your laptop screen. the day at the cafe he figured out why you were so upset lately.

that's why he offered you the job, out of the kindness of his heart. no other reason.

he just wanted to make sure that you stay happy & safe, which is why he installed secret cameras in the basement before you moved in.

he loved to tease you. he loved to rile you up.

he'd tease you so badly that you -at the dead of night- spread you legs wide towards the camera & play with yourself with your fingers, moaning desperately for him. all while aizawa watched you.

tonight was different though because, with the money he gave you, you bought yourself something new. tonight, you had a bright pink vibrator stimulate your clit while your eyes rolled back in ecstasy. aizawa was offended, in all honesty. it was almost like you were mocking him.

he could do better than some toy. you should've known that. he was angry, aroused, & ready to make his move.

you were unsuspecting. usually you were hyper-aware of your surroundings when you masterbated, scared of getting caught. however, this was your first time using a vibrator, & god, it felt so good. you've never experienced anything like it before. blood rushed to your ears as you could only listen to the vibrations & your choked-back moans.

aizawa crept down the stairs, into your basement. the floorboards would creak as a warning, but they fell on deaf ears. he opened the door to the basement, sneaking in. the only light that was on was a dimly lit lamp from your room. "ngh, ah." he heard your muffled moans, & his cock twitched in anticipation.

he bursted through the door, making you jump back & pull the closest thing over the bottom half of yourself. "s-sir! i-is something wrong?" you asked in a high-pitched voice as you tried to calm yourself down.

he gave you a glare, & you felt like you were in trouble, preparing for some sort of punishment. even though you didn't do anything wrong, it was him who barged in. "what. the fuck. do you think you're doing?" he seethed, closing the bedroom door. you were exposed, your juices so clearly staining your sheets.

"wh-what are you talking about-"

"don't give me that, y/n. you've been such a bad girl," he growled. aizawa stalked closer towards you as you gulped.

"n-no i haven't, i don't know what you mean, sir," you managed to say, watching him walk to the side of your bed.

"what were you doing then, hm?" he questioned with a mocking smirk. "tell me. i'd hate to do something brash over a misunderstanding."

"i-i was just laying down," you lied. he was standing at the edge of your bed, & you turned towards him. your gaze was met with his aching bulge, & you gushed all over your bed once more. you tried covering up the squelching with a yawn. "i-i'm kinda tired, you know." you were still staring at his crotch, licking your lips subconsciously.

suddenly, his hand shot to your face, his palm covering your mouth while his thumb & middle finger dug into your cheeks. "don't lie to me~ you were touching yourself, weren't you? using a dirty toy while you thought about me, hm?" you tried shaking your head but he grasped harder, making you still. "i said, don't fuckin' lie to me." he made you nod your head yes while you look up into his lusted eyes.

"you're such a bad girl, & you should know that i don't tolerate any kind of bad behavior," he informed, his gaze never breaking away from yours. "i'm going to sit down, & you're going to lay belly-down on my lap, alright, baby?"

you shook your head no once again, embarrassed. you knew that, the moment you would do that, he would catch you. after all, from the waist down, you had no clothing. "no?" he repeated in an almost sing-songy voice. "no?"

it happened so fast. one minute you were disobeying him, the next you were on his lap, just as he wanted. the baggy crop top rode up the arch of your back, & now you were practically naked -ass up- on your boss' lap. you buried your face into your messy duvet. you felt your core leak onto your inner thighs, hoping aizawa didn't notice your arousal. he did though; he loved it.

his fingers stroked your pussy as he slurred, "what a naughty girl, gettin' wet for me. y'know how much older i am, don't ya?"

you nodded your head, dripping onto his fingers.

"& ya still want me?"

you nodded, this time with a small squeak. he pulled your head back with his other hand entangled in your hair. "what was that, baby?"

"y-yes," you whispered out, hyperfixated on his fingers that teased you.

"yes what?"

"yes, i-i want you, sir," you moaned out. his middle finger ghosted over your clit, & you jolted closer to him for more friction.

"aww, you're so cute," he purred as he let go of your hair, allowing you to fall back into your bed. "it's a shame that you were so impatient though," he said with faux pity, "i have to punish you."

"no, please," you whined. "that's not fair!"

"not fair? oh darling, you brought this on yourself," he laughed. aizawa drew his hand away from your aching pussy, much to your dismay. the hand came back down, thrashing your ass cheek. you let out a muffled scream into your blanket as you were pushed forward with his force.

"what's wrong, y/n? can't handle a bit of spanking?"

"n-no! i-i want you... i-inside of me," you stuttered out with a red-tinted cheeks.

"aww, do you?"

you nodded eagerly. he, in response, growled lowly, "you're going to learn your lesson. i don't want to hear anymore whining. you're going to be my good girl, & take it, right?"

you just nodded again.

smack!

"i said, you're going to be a good girl for me, aren't you?"

"y-yes, sir!"

smack!

you let out a moan, looking back at him with teary eyes. you wanted an explanation why he spanked you again. you did everything right, didn't you? you were a good girl.

"you didn't apologize."

"i-i'm s-so sorry, daddy," you gasped out, then tried to explain why you called him that. "i-i didn't-"

smack!

"you're going to keep calling me that, right?"

"y-yes, daddy." your ass stung bright red, & you felt the tingling sensation as the blood rushed to your asscheeks. aizawa let his hand graze over you, squeezing you ever so slightly.

"sit up, & look at me, y/n," he commanded in a softer tone than before. mindlessly & eagerly, you sat up onto his lap. one hand gripped on your hip while the other was placed behind your back. you wrapped your arms around his neck to stay sitting up. he leaned in for a kiss, lips pressed against your plush ones. with the hand behind your back, he glided his nails over your back.

his tongue slid over your bottom lip before invading your mouth. you let out a moan as he kissed you. he was the one to pull away, you unconsciously leaned into him for another kiss. you were snapped out of your lust when he dove into your neck, nipping & kissing all over. between hickeys, he whispered, "see? good girls get a reward."

you just let out breathless moans. your arms were still around his neck while he lowered you onto the bed. "baby, i don't ever wanna punish you again," aizawa lied, slipping your crop top over your head before throwing it on the floor. he took of his shirt, chuckling when he saw how pink your ears got. "you know why i had to punish you though, don't you?"

"y-yes, i do, d-daddy," you stuttered out. it was hard to focus while he dragged his tongue over your body. he bit your collarbone, sucked on your tits, kissed down your torso. it was all so distracting.

"why did i have to punish you, y/n?"

"because i-i was p-playing with myself without y-your permission," you told him, sighs in between every word. you don't know how or when your legs were over his shoulders, & you didn't notice until he spoke.

every annunciation blew warm air to your throbbing heat. "such a smart girl, y/n~" he praised, his onyx eyes locking with your doe eyes. you didn't have to say anything, he could tell by your facial expressions how badly you needed him. he kitten-licked your pussy; it was so little, yet you couldn't help but squeak in delight.

"oh, my god," you moaned out, throwing your head back as he began to lap your juices. he groaned as his tongue flicked your clit.

"you taste so fuckin' good, baby," he uttered, diving back for more.

"thank you, daddy," you said, you didn't even know if he still wanted to punish you, but there was a chance that he did, & you didn't want this to stop.

"good girl."

he stimulated your clit with his tongue while three fingers pumped in & out of your hole. he pulled away from your pussy for a second, demanding, "look at me when you cum, got it?"

"yes d-daddy!" you yelled out, self-restraint turning into the opposite. a pressure built inside your core, threatening to pop at any second. you looked down, tears of pleasure & neediness rolling down your pink cheeks. "i-i'm gonna cum. please keep going, i'm gonna cum!" you let out a string of pleads & moans as you came all over aizawa's face.

he stood up, slipping off his pants & boxers. he kicked them away as he towered over you. he was standing on the edge of the bed while you lied with your legs spread. "you want me, y/n? you really want me?" he asked because if you wanted him to stop, he would. if you wanted him to do anything, he'd do it.

"i really want you," you said as sincerely as someone who just climaxed could say anything. "i-i just don't want this to be a one-time thing," you admitted.

he laughed, lining his cock with your entrance as he stroked your cheek with his thumb. "trust me, baby. this is not a one-time thing, i'm so addicted to you, y/n. you don't even know." he finished his short-lived speech by shoving his girthy dick into your cunt, & you remembered just how dominate aizawa was. you let out a scream due to the pain, unexpectedness, & utter pleasure you got all in a single moment.

his thrusts were soft & slow at first. you could feel every inch leave then plunge back into your weeping hole. "d-d-daddy, you're so big," you moaned while you wrapped your arms around his neck.

his pace picked up, hips jerking against you. your tits jiggled with every thrust, claps every time he went back inside you. he abused your sensitive g-spot, ramming himself in & out of you. your hands unraveled themselves around his neck, your nails digging into his muscular back. you let out babbles how you couldn't take it, how you were going stupid, & how you were going to cum. he groaned in response, "if you're saying anything other than daddy or more, shut your fuckin' mouth & take it like a good girl."

"n-ngh, ahhh, yesss daddy," you slurred, eyes rolling to the back of your head. you wanted him to slow down so you could think again, but you liked being mindless, you liked how you didn't have the energy or will power to think about anything in this fucked-up world. all that mattered in that moment was you, aizawa, & how good the two of you felt.

"you're so fuckin' beautiful, baby," he groaned, he couldn't help but compliment you. how could he not? you looked even better pinned under him than he imagined. "so tight for me."

"please let c-cum with me, daddy," you begged. he didn't respond for a second, & you started to doubt yourself.

"wh-where," he groaned out, thrusts becoming rough & sloppy.

"what?"

he was losing composure. "where do you want me to cum?"

"inside," you answered quickly, wrapping your legs around his waist. you felt like you were in control now. "i-i want you inside of me when i cum all over your cock, d-daddy~"

"y/n. don't say stupid shit," he warned, knowing damn well he'd fold in an instant. you kept moaning with every thrust, begging for him to cum.

"p-please~ daddy, i deserve it. i-i've been a good girl," you whimpered. you jutted your bottom lip in a pout & tried to give your best puppy-dog eyes. every thrust he could see you twitch in pleasure, your expression couldn't hide how much you were enjoying this.

"fuckin' brat," he scowled. he watched you as you figured out how much power you truly have over him. he couldn't blame you for extorting it because that's what he did to you. at the end of the day though, you won.

he became sloppy & fast. his cock twitched inside of you when he saw your slutty expression-- tongue hanging out of your mouth, cheeks red, tears running down your face, eyes begging. & it was all because of him, how he fucked you. he was the cause of such a beautiful thing. finally, with a single thrust, he buried himself deep within you, cumming.

whiteness painted your insides while you came around him, clenching his twitching prick. "a-aizawa!" you screamed out in pure ecstasy.

deep breathes, panting, & sighs of content followed afterwards. he slipped out of your gaping hole, his sperm leaking out of your pussy. he climbed into your bed, coddling you. you were still shaky, senses heighten. you placed your head on his chest, listening to his heart beat slow.

he pulled the covers over the two of you. aizawa said while massaging your scalp, "you okay, baby?"

"mhm," you hummed, "i-i just never been fucked like that before."

he laughed, then kissed the top of your head. "i promise that this won't be the last time, y/n. i'm all yours." though he didn't say it, he was thinking, besides, guys your age won't know what to do with a bad girl like you.

#aizawa x y/n #anime and manga #yandere bnha #bnha x reader #bnha aizawa #aizawa shota x reader #aizawa shouta #shouta aizawa headcanons #aizawa x reader #x reader #reader insert #reader imagine #aizawa imagine #aizawa smut #mha au #mha #bnha #yandere aizawa #yandere mha

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believesthings · 9 months

Text

Paper Thin // Ted Lasso x Reader

Summary: you’ve been secretly listening to your hot American neighbor masturbate through the walls. When you finally do go inside his place for the first time, some interesting revelations come to light.

Warnings: smut. smut. smut. Masturbation, fingering, dirty talk, light anal play, nipple play, body praise, vibrators, slight allusion to violence but nothing is specifically described or mentioned.

You have a filthy fucking habit.

Your vibrator has taken a permanent residence on the empty side of your bed to allow for easy access when you hear the inevitable shuffle on the other side of your bedroom wall.

The entire ordeal started when Ted Lasso came to town. You had heard about the news, of course. Football was a big deal around here and even if you weren’t big into the sport, it was pretty close knit community and a new face, especially an American one, was bound to make some waves.

What you hadn’t expected was for him to be so… hot.

You were at the Crown and Anchor when it first hit the airwaves. You were pulled from your own personal bubble when you heard Peter from the bar shout,

“Farmer fuckin’ Brown is gonna be the new gaffer?”

You pulled your head up to see Ted’s smiling face on the screen, explaining how he was taking over for AFC Richmond.

People weren’t thrilled about it to say the least. You kept quiet though. You had to admit, looking at him, you weren’t mad about it. He seemed exactly like your type. You figured that it didn’t really matter. Most likely, you would never run into the man.

That, as it turned out, was massively inaccurate.

The flat next to yours has been empty for a few months. You’d gotten used to the silence, so much so that when you heard footsteps and a voice, a male voice, on the other side of the wall, your first instinct was to call the police.

You were so startled that you stood there, phone in hand, hovering over your bed. When you heard the knock on your door, you tried not to panic. Making your way slowly to the door, sneaking a glance through the peek hole, you see a disheveled Ted Lasso at your doorstep. You open the door in a haze.

He is hotter in person, you decide. Up close you can see the stubble from where he hasn’t shaved. His sleeves pushed up exposing his forearms. A little tendril of hair over his forehead that you want to run your hands through. Big, bright eyes that you could probably get lost in. What was that Dolly Parton lyric?

Here you come again, looking better than a body has the right to.

That seemed to embody Richmond’s new football manager.

You both stared at each other momentarily. He broke the silence first.

“Hey there! Sorry to bother you so late, I just wanted to introduce myself. I’m Ted Lasso, your new neighbor.”

Oh shit. Shit. Shit.

The universe was either smiling down on you or paying you back for a nasty curse in your past life. At the moment, you weren’t sure which way the scales were tipping.

He’s there holding out his hand, seemingly about to drop it when you come to your senses.

“Y-yes. Hi. I saw you on the news. You’re the new coach?” You take his hand and he squeezes yours lightly. You’re only a little embarrassed to admit that it makes you wonder what it feel like for his hands to squeeze other parts of your body.

“That’s right. Well, listen I won’t keep you long, I know it’s late. I just wanted to stop by and say hi. I’ll try not to bother ya too much. Now I won’t lie to you - you’ll probably hear the occasional billy ocean song in the morning or maybe some late night viewings of you’ve got mail, but feel free to just bang on the wall or some thin’ if I ever get too loud for ya.”

You nod, practically unable to form words.

“Oh shoot! I didn’t catch your name.” He pauses waiting for you to give it, which you do.

“Nice to meet ya. Goodnight neighbor!” He flashes you a smile that practically makes you melt before he’s off to his own door.

You were definitely screwed.

The first time you heard him touching himself, you almost didn’t realize what was happening. There was some vague shuffling on the other side of the wall and you were wrapped up in your own world to really pay that much attention. The moans started, light and soft, you couldn’t really be sure what you were hearing but as he got more and more into it, it became clear.

Oh fuck.

You were squirming listening to the sounds he was making. It didn’t sound like there were any other noises so you have to assume he was alone.

You’re practically holding your breath, as if just a simple exhale would give you away and he would stop. One deep grunt in particular, followed by a light bang of his headboard against the wall as he jutted his cock up into the curve of his palm, had you damn near convulsing.

That was the first night you broke out the vibrator. It hasn’t been put back in your drawer since.

You hear the familiar knock of Ted’s hand on your door and you scurry to answer.

“Hey! I baked some goodies for my favorite neighbor.”

Jesus Christ, he bakes too?

“Favorite neighbor, huh? What about Mrs. Shipley?”

He waves you off, “oh I think I might’ve burned my bridge with her a while ago. Bit too loud for her taste.”

“Might not hurt to bake her some treats, get back on her good side. You could get yourself a discount from Shipley’s Steakhouse.”

He looks directly at you when you replies, “Oh now, I love a good steak, don’t get me wrong but what I really value is loyalty and I’m not one to quit, so when I find a favorite… trust me, I stick with it.”

Either you’re hallucinating or his eyes seem to move up and down your body at the end of his speech. Was he still talking about baking? Surely, you’re reading too much into this. He couldn’t be into you, could he?

You can hear him again. You reach for your vibrator beginning to travel down between your legs at the sounds of his moans.

This is also the only time you’ve heard him curse.

“O-oh fuck.”

You close your eyes, trying to picture what he must look like on the other side of the wall.

You have no idea what his typical nightly attire is but for the purposes of your fantasies, you imagine he’s shirtless, legs stretched out, lazily stroking his cock. His eyes are also closed, just like your own, soaking in his own pleasure. Familiarizing himself with every ridge and curve. He doesn’t go too fast at first, wants to feel it steadily build. He keeps a thumb on the tip, rubbing smooth, slow circles. A bit of pre-cum is probably already leaking out, as he uses it to coat the head of his cock. You can hear his moans getting increasingly louder, loosening his inhibitions. He’s probably giving himself smooth, even strokes, thrusting his cock into his own hand.

You follow suit at the idea, grinding your hips in a way that has you fucking yourself against your vibrator.

You can hear his moaning getting more erratic on the other side of the wall and you’re sure he’s close. Thank god. Because you are too.

You hear another string of curses, followed by a final moan that you’re sure is his release and you follow momentarily behind him, trying to remain quiet. If you can hear him through the walls, it stands to reason that he would be able to hear you too.

You both come down from your high together, separated by a nearly paper thin wall.

You fall into a comfortable rhythm with Ted. He brings you baked goods, you chat and flirt at the doorway, you sneak to his door and write little thank you notes. Then at night, you shamelessly fuck yourself while listening to him cum.

You had ended up at Ted’s doorstep after a particularly nasty date. You were rain soaked, shoes covered in mud and shivering.

When he opened the door and you saw him standing there, looking so cozy in his sweater, it almost made you wanna cry.

He didn’t ask questions, he stepped aside for you to come in.

“Gonna run you a bath, alright?”

You nod. You wrap your arms around yourself, trying to warm yourself up.

“Come on, darlin’.”

He’s filled up the tub for you, leaving you alone to get undressed and get settled in.

“Ted?”

He peaks his head around to see you in the bath. “Yeah?”

“Would it be weird for me to ask you to stay in here with me? I don’t really wanna be alone right now.”

He seems momentarily fazed but he recovers quickly. “Yeah, of course.”

He doesn’t make an effort to get in the bath with you, he sits in front of tub, his back against it.

“Not that I don’t appreciate your presence but can I ask what you’re doing here? Is everything alright?”

You don’t answer at first. Weighing it out in your head. He doesn’t rush you, not that you would expect him too.

“Well, I downloaded Bantr..”

You don’t notice it, but Ted stiffens against the tub. Jealously, he guesses. Which is ridiculous. He knows he has no right be. He would never want to be one of those guys that tries to dictate who you could or couldn’t spend time with but he hates you the idea of you with someone else all the same.

“I didn’t really want to do it, to be honest. I mostly did it to support Keeley. Anyway, there was a guy I was talking to on there and we finally went out on a date tonight. It was.. bad.” You wonder at the way your voice cracks at the last word.

“He was… he..” you trail off.

Ted seems to become even more tense. In a tone you’ve never heard from him before, he asks, “Did he hurt you?”

When you don’t respond, he takes long, deep breaths. You’re not giving him much to go off of and his anxiety is filling in the gaps with some pretty nasty scenarios. “Darlin’, I would never want to force you to talk about anything you don’t want to but I need a yes or no answer. I need to know what we’re dealing with here.”

You instantly note the fact that he said what we’re dealing with instead of what you’re dealing with.

“It was awful, Ted. The entire night was just one backhanded compliment after another. He constantly interrupted everything I had to say. He kept making all these little snide remarks. And the poor waitress, he was such a prick to her. At one point, he actually said that the date and I were a waste of time and then he left me with the check and no ride home. So, I walked here.”

“You could’ve called me, ya know. You didn’t need to walk, especially in the rain. I would’ve come and got you.”

“What if you were busy?”

“Doesn’t matter. Nothing could keep me from you.”

You raise your hand up to run your fingers through his hair. He leans back into your touch. “Ted, could you join me, please?”

He turns to fully look at you. “You sure you’re comfortable with that?”

You nod but you had a feeling he would want verbal confirmation. “Yes.” You follow up by asking, “Are you? Comfortable with that?”

“Yeah, course.”

You watch him undress and you scoot forward, drawing your legs up to allow him to slide behind you. He picks you up and slides you onto his lap. You try not to focus on the feeling of his growing erection prodding against your back, instead leaning back and relaxing against his chest. You watch the water pool around knees and see his arms wrap around your front, making his way up your body.

You hear his words rumble in his chest as you press against him. “There we go. You feeling okay?”

You nod, “Yeah. Thank you, Ted.”

You chuckles lowly in you ear. “You don’t need to thank me. This is exactly where you should be.”

He rubs small circles into your hips and asks, “Can I kiss you?”

“I think I would lose my mind if you didn’t.”

He tilts your head up and Leans down to kiss you. You can feel his hand, moving further up your body to begin idly toying with your nipple. You let out an involuntary whimper into his mouth and you can feel him smirking against your lips. The bastard. He definitely knows what he’s doing. When he break apart, he brings his hand up to run a finger across your bottom lip. You open your mouth and suck his finger into your mouth. Ted lets out a sudden guttural groan that tells you that you made a good call.

You flutter your tongue up and down his finger, tightening your lips and sucking. He answers with another growl before bringing his other hand down to continue playing your nipples, rubbing circles, feeling them harden beneath his touch, and then when you least expect it, pinching at them too.

You break away to let out a moan of your own. "You feel so good." You say to him, feeling him continue to toy with your body.

He dips his head down, placing kisses to your neck. "I'm sorry you had a bad date, sweetheart. But that boy clearly didn't know what he had right there in front of him. It probably worked out for the best, you deserve better than that. He wouldn't have been able to make you moan like this anyway."

You peer up at him, "Oh yeah? What makes you so sure?"

He leans down to your ear, "Because I know what gets you going sweetheart. I don't think that vibrator is as quiet as you think it is."

Oh Shit.

You whip your head around at him. "You knew this whole time?"

He nods at you as you shrink you body, trying to hide your face in embarrassment.

"Oh, now there's no need to start getting shy on me now, Darlin'. Do you have any idea how hard it was to keep my cool around you sometimes? You remember that time you came by and brought my phone to my office because I went off and left it at home?"

You nod, trying to focus on his words while you can feel his hands continuing their exploration of you.

"Some of the guys in the locker room were talking about you, how attractive you were and it drove me crazy. I wanted to tell them that none of them had a chance because I knew at the end of the day, you were going home and sharing all pleasure with me. Do you know how wild it made me to know that you were on the other side of the wall, stroking your silky little pussy while listening to me? I had never even laid a hand on you but hearing you break out that vibrator, it was enough to make me want to claim you as mine."

You laugh lightly at this. "I've always been yours, Ted. Since that first night you knocked on my door."

He runs his hands along your inner thighs, soothing you into relaxation. When his fingers began to play lightly over your pussy, he hard you sigh in relief. He keeps kissing down your neck, he nips lightly at your shoulder. He works two of his fingers around your opening, dipping inside to find you wet and ready.

"You wanna know what I thought about all those times I was touching myself? I bet you already know. I was thinking about my pretty neighbor."

You had just enough coherence left in you to crack a joke. "Mrs. Shipley? I'm sure she would be flattered."

He doesn't acknowledge your quip, instead bringing you for another kiss, continuing to finger you under the water of the bath. "There is nothing better than the feeling of you getting wet for me."

He brings his thumb up to rub circles on your clit and you're arching your back against him.

"You're so responsive, aren't you sweetheart? Can you do me a favor? Can you get on your knees for me?"

You do as he asks, feeling his hands stoke along your hips, positioning you against the opposite end of the tub. He kisses down your arched spine, groaning at the sight of you - the swell of your ass rising from the water, bubbles from the soap pooling around you. He takes his hands, rubbing them smoothly over your skin, drinking you in. He leans over you, "I need to be inside you, sweetheart. Would that be okay with you?"

You nodded, your head relaxing against your arms.

You feel him begin to push into you. "Don't worry, honey. I'm not gonna give you a straight plunge to the top of ya. Gotta let you adjust, don't we?"

You gasp and stiffen at the feel of him, new and incredibly full, tapping you part way into you.

He goes back to toying with your body, giving you light kisses, waiting for you to relax against him. He can feel you arch your ass back into his hips. He can hear you gasp and let out a moan as you relax around him. "I was right, you are responsive. That's it baby, open up for me. I can feel you practically fluttering around my cock, honey."

He gives one final push, now fully inside you. He never lets his hands take a break. His fingers are either circling your clit or toying towards your ass. You can feel him all over you.

"You close already? You're taking me so well."

"Yes" you moan out - head rolling against your forearms trying to keep balance.

"Can you help me come baby?" Ted was speeding up a bit now, his thrusts making you brace against the side of the tub.

"Y-Yes."

He brings his thumb against your ass, slowly sliding it into you, you gasp out at the sensation, tensing up at the new feeling.

"I got ya, honey. Just relax. Just wanna make you feel good, nice and full, okay?"

He begins moving his thumb to the same rhythm as his cock, enjoying your moans, rubbing the pad of his thumb against you, he says, "I can feel my cock in you. You feel... so g-good." He groans out. "So tight." He growls more to himself than to you. "You ready to cum for me?"

You were beginning to shake, feeling helpless against the tidal wave of pleasure. The fullness that made you feel split open, the tingling and sparking that indicated that you were so, so close. "Y-Yes."

He hand reaches to tug your clit in between his fingers, "Cum for me, Darling." Your head jerks back, knocking against his collarbone as you shudder blissfully. After a final push of his cock and fingers, he growls and joins you, mouth biting down on your shoulder, absorbing his moans.

Gently sliding out of you, He wraps his arms around your shaking body, wrapping you against him, gently rocking you back and forth while your breathing returned to normal. "You were so good for me." He gives you one final kiss and lifts you from the tub, drying you off with a towel and rubbing coconut oil on the sore parts of your body.

"Thank you, Ted."

"How many times do I need to tell ya, Darling? You don't need to thank me."

He hovers above you for a moment before continuing, "Although I guess there is something you could do for me if you wanted."

"Course, Teddy. You can have anything."

"You can invite me over to your place one of these nights and let me use that pretty little vibrator on you myself."

#ted lasso x reader #ted lasso #ted lasso imagine #ted lasso fic #ted lasso fanfic #ted lasso smut #ted lasso reader insert #smut #ted lasso fanfiction

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