#there is nothing like the pit in your stomach that falls when at the end of the second episode sam and dean are in the ambulance | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

mariahcarreyyy · 4 months

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Can you write a lando norris x fem reader fic where they do anal (fem receiving) cause he won a race or championship or something please

+ my first smut ever go easy on me pls 🙈🙈

𝗪𝗜𝗡𝗡𝗘𝗥𝗦 𝗣𝗥𝗜𝗭𝗘, 𝗹𝗮𝗻𝗱𝗼 𝗻𝗼𝗿𝗿𝗶𝘀

pairing: lando norris x fem!reader

plot: after Lando wins his first grand prix race, you let him explore a new area in your sex life-- taking it from the backdoor.

wc: 2.8k { shes a long one ;) }

warning(s): smut 18+, anal fingering (fem rec.), anal sex (fem rec.), celebratory sex, the overuse of the words 'fuck' and 'baby', swearing, and mild mention of champagne.

The post-race flush on your boyfriend's face that Sunday afternoon was nothing new: his cheeks twinged were crimson and a broad smile was etched onto his face, clashing dangerously with his papaya race suit.

What was new, however, was that Lando's feet were placed neither on the third step of the podium nor the second. He stood victoriously on the top step, raising his large silver trophy above his head and beaming at the ecstatic crowd.

The Silverstone winners' green eyes meet yours in his struggle of drowning in champagne, mouthing, 'I love you.'

'I love you more,' you mouth back, no longer resisting the urge to let your proud tears escape your waterline.

Hours later, the thrill of Lando winning his first race was as strong as ever. It twirled recklessly around you and Lando's sweaty bodies and booming music. The high-end club was overflowing with Formula One drivers and media personnel. All celebrating your boyfriend's first win, no doubt.

You and Lando had been separated at some point during the night, lost in the purple and blue LED lights of the club, and you found yourself dancing with whoever had been willing to. Witnessing his girlfriend sway against the bodies of a stranger hadn't bothered him, because the two of you were aware that no one could touch you like he could—make you feel as good as he could.

Fuck, his blue jeans grew tighter against his crotch, eyes stubbornly planted on the curve of your hips and watching as they moved seductively to the beat of the music.

The hair on the nape of your neck rose, somehow aware that someone was watching you. You detach yourself from the stranger—a fairly attractive blond in his late twenties—and turn around only to be met with your boyfriend's eyes for the second time that day.

When he turns back around to face the bartender, you advance towards his seat and wrap your arms around his waist from behind.

"Hi, baby," he smiles as you rub your forehead against the crook of his neck.

Like a cat, he thinks.

"Hey," you murmur, muffled by the cotton of his black shirt. Breathing in, you think you have become drunk on the deep musk of his cologne. "Y'smell so good."

Lando tips his head back with a boastful laugh, but it falters when he feels your soft lips slowly trailing up his neck, smirking, "Yeah? You wanna take this someplace else?"

You crane your neck up, biting your bottom lip as you nod shyly. Lando doesn't need any further confirmation; he stands up, and your hands consequently fall from his tan stomach. A whine nearly escapes you at the loss of physical touch, but he's quick to interlace your hand in his.

Sometimes, you believe he can read your mind.

"Don't let go," he demands, pushing past the swarm of drunken crowds (and also leading you to rub your thighs together in hopes of relieving yourself, but you chose not to acknowledge it).

In a matter of thirty minutes, you were able to escape the suffocating atmosphere and catch a cab back to your hotel. The moment the door of the hotel room shut behind you, Lando placed both of his veiny hands on your waist, pressing your bodies together and attacking your lips.

Your body was on fire, and the pit in your stomach screamed for relief. Lando couldn't fucking stop kissing you. And even if he could, he wouldn't dare be the first to pull away.

Lando Norris was not one for alcohol, but he would get drunk off the peachy scent of your conditioner if he could.

The driver's hand stilled on your cheek to tip your head back and deepen the kiss, while the other tugged on the hem of your little black dress. You let out a pathetic whimper against his lips, and Lando takes it as permission to slip his tongue inside.

Hesitantly, you pull away, albeit not very far. You could count Lando's faint freckles, and your nose brushes against his occasionally. You meet his eyes and fight the urge to look down at your feet because he's looking at you like you hung the fucking stars in the sky. A grin breaks out on his face, and he resumes his feathery touches on your dress. "C'mon, baby, take this off f'me."

You blink dumbly at him. Lando doubles over, emitting that laugh that you love so much. That hyena-like, gigglish shriek. When it dawns on you that you might be staring a little too hard, you immediately reach for your dress, lifting it above your hips and shrugging it off your shoulder.

Lando curses softly under his breath and urgently lays his palms back on your hips. He presses your lips together again, softer and gentler, and your heart aches. Warmth consumes you as you lean into the kiss, Lando's lips impossibly soft against your own.

Lando gently taps his index finger on the crease separating your ass and thighs. You know, just from his touch, what he needs, and of course you do; there have been too many nights of you waking up together, tangled in white bedsheets, for you not to.

You jump, your lips still connected, and your head dizzy from his touch. His palms wrap beneath your legs, carrying you to bed like you weighed about as much as a feather.

And like, Lando manhandling you shouldn't make you want to ride him till he cries, but it does. It only made the need in between your thighs stronger.

Soon enough, you're splayed out on his sheets with Lando's pillowy lips sucking all over your neck, painting it with soft hues of lilac.

The fabric covering your boyfriend's body makes you jut your bottom lip out, whining, "Take it off, Lan, please."

Lando pulls away with half-lidded eyes, resting on his calves as he fumbles to free himself from the constraints of his clothes. And well, you definitely didn't lift your hips against his clothed dick at the sight of his defined abs.

Lando breathes sharply and spreads your legs to rub your pussy through your panties. You whine, trying and failing to grind up against his palm because his other hand is firm against your lower stomach.

"Mm, so good f'me, so wet." Lando moans lightly, pushing your lace to the side, and—oh fuck, he's rubbing your clit.

You thrash against his touch, gasping as you heave out, "Lan, no, please, no."

The drivers' previous lust-filled eyes are tainted with worry now. "What's wrong, baby? I do somethin'?"

You almost chuckle fondly at how fast he retracts his arm from in between your thighs (and also cry). You shake your head, lifting your hand—which had been previously gripping at the sheets—to cradle his defined cheekbones.

"No, no, baby, 'tis not that," you gulp, and his wory morphs into confusion, urging you to continue. "I just, I dunno, I know how much you wanted to fuck me from the back, so I, uh, thought we could do it tonight."

Shit.

Lando doesn't know what he expected to hear, but it was sure as fuck not that. To his own surprise, Lando somehow grows harder in the confines of his boxer. A grin adorns his face, despite the pain between his legs. "Fuck, you sure, baby? I know I jus' won a race, but that doesn't mean we have to, princess."

"I know," you reassure him, trailing your hand down to his boxers and palming at his erection. "I want to; y'looked so fucking hot on that top step."

"Yeah?" He sucks in a sharp breath, and you hum sweetly, squeezing his dick harder.

Lando's hips stutter against your touch, grinding down in an attempt to relieve his ache. Mustering up his last shred of dignity, Lando somehow manages to pull away, making you whine for what felt like the 1000th time tonight.

He chuckles, stepping off the bed to tug his boxers down and reach for the strawberry-scented lube on his nightstand that, as you both learned, all high-end hotels supplied. Lando eagerly sits in the space of your spread legs, leaning forward to place wet kisses along your collarbone till he reaches your tits.

You moan softly when he wraps his hot mouth around your nipple, and Lando goes fucking ballistic. The sound echoes in his head like a broken radio. Lando wants to take it out and store it in a guarded safe somewhere in India.

The driver alternates between each boob, flicking his tongue against one and rolling the nub of the other with his fingers. Your hand quickly finds solace in his curls, arching your back to bring him closer. When he pulls away with a kiss to your sensitive nub, you find it hard not to be hyper-aware of the thick cock resting against your thigh.

You roll your hips impatiently, and satisfaction engulfs your body when Lando reaches for the discarded lube on the bed. With a pop, he pulls the lid and squeezes a generous amount on his palm. He rubs his hands together, the friction warming the lube well.

You would be a liar if you said a swarm of erratic butterflies hadn't swarmed your stomach. Lando would make this enjoyable; you knew that, but he couldn't completely take the pain away. Taking a deep breath in, you reach for Lando's clean hand.

He intertwines them beside your hip without asking a question.

He pokes a wet finger against your rim, asking, "You ready, love?"

"Yup," popping the 'p', satisfied with yourself at how well you were hiding your nerves.

Lando pushes in, and he barely has half of his index finger inside you, but holy fuck, the sight drives him crazy. The hold on his hand tightens, and he forces his eyes away from his finger wrapped around your asshole to look at you.

"H-how're you feeling, love?" Lando stutters at the feeling of your asshole clenching around his digit. "Relax, baby, you've gotta relax f'me, please."

Tears well up on your waterline, blurring your vision of Lando kneeling in front of you. It took a few seconds, but the pain eventually subsided, and Lando took that as a sign to push deeper.

Lando tries his absolute hardest not to moan loudly, instead focusing on the heat of your ass wrapped around his index. He removes it, leaving no time for you to question him before he shoves a second finger inside.

"Oh!" You arch your back, eyebrows furrowing, when the pleasure starts bubbling in your stomach. "Fuck, fuck, fuck."

"Shit," Lando says, because your writhing against his fingers, begging for more, more, more, has reduced him to a man of few words. "Doin' so fucking well for me, baby."

The driver continues to fuck his fingers into your ass, twisting and curling every once in a while. Your head tilts back against the mattress, and your mouth hangs in a permanent 'o'.

"You think y'ready for m'cock, darling?"

You don't--cant-- bring yourself to answer. Your mind, you believed, had officially melted into a puddle, spilling out of your ear. Lando curls his fingers, as if nudging you on the shoulder and saying, Hey, I'm talking to you.

You screech, your eyes fluttering open to meet his gaze. His gaze, that makes you feel so delicate. His gaze, that makes your head void of any thoughts. His gaze, that you wanted on you forever.

You nod, and he carefully pulls his digits out. Lando grips the base of his cock lazily because he knows he won't be able to last long, and he'd be damned if he was about to spend one less second inside you.

Lando lines his dick up against your stretched-out rim, fingers untangling from yours, and instead rests them on the small of your waist. When Lando pushes the tip inside your hole, the pain that shoots up your spine causes your hands to fly up to your back, clawing at him to distract yourself.

"Holy shit, holy shit, holy shit," Lando repeats like a prayer.

You felt so fucking wet, so tight around his cock. Lando was sure that if he died like this—naked, sweaty, and with his cock shoved deep inside your ass—he'd die happily.

The feeling of Lando's fingers was incomparable to the sensation—and pain—of his length filling you up inch by inch. The room smells of sex, Lando's perfume, and strawberry-scented lube, and once the pain finally subsided, you realized you needed him fully inside you now.

You wrap your legs around his hips, the balls of your feet pressing against his lower back as you beg, "Please, Lan, I need you, need you to fill me up, please."

Lando swears under his breath, hands gripping at your waist so hard that you're sure you'd look in the mirror the next morning to see your hips painted a lilac and indigo blue sunset. He pushed further inside, his eyes glued to your asshole, stretching to accommodate his thickness and sucking him in, moaning loudly when you accidentally clenched around him.

"Fuck, baby, y-you're taking all of me," Lando gasps in disbelief, biting his bottom lip as his eyes roll back.

You haven't said a single thing, reduced to a whimpering mess and tear-stained cheeks. When your fingernails dig deeper into his back, Lando blinks, ripped out of his lust-haze trance.

Lando tries to focus. Really, he does. But shit, you're clenching sinfully around his cock and fluttering around it as if to say, more more more.

"Lando," you whisper just loud enough for him to hear, painting his back with crescent moons from your fingernails (you'd feel bad if it wasn't for his dick splitting you in half). "Fuck me."

Lando groans at that, wasting no time before pulling his hips back and slamming them back inside. You shrieked, and at this point, you were sure that Lando's back was bleeding from your nails' assault.

You look up at Lando through your eyelashes, jutting out your bottom lip. Your boyfriend's hips don't falter when he leans down and kisses you. It was different. It was messy and hot, and you let out a choked sob against his lips.

With wide eyes, Lando pulls away. "Are you okay, baby? 'Doin so fucking well f'me, fuck, good girl."

You moan, the praise making you impossibly more horny, and nod your head frantically, reaching for your clit between your thighs. Lando tuts, removing a hand from your pretty waist to plant your arms against the pillow above you.

"Please, Lan, I need it, need it so bad." You helplessly grind your clit against nothing.

And who the hell was Lando Norris to say no?

With the new-found pleasure of relieving clit, you are 100% sure that if you ever were to die and go to heaven, it would look like this. It would feel like this.

Lando isn't ashamed that he wouldn't last long, not when you feel this fucking good, not when he can hear your high-pitched moans and uneven breaths. With a stutter of his hips and a particularly loud groan, you already knew he was close.

"Fuck! Baby, I-I cant," he doubles over, frantically rubbing tiny circles against your clit and attacking your neck with his lips. "I'm gonna-"

You arch your back as though you're getting a fucking exorcism because, holy shit, the feeling of his hot semen filling you up is way hotter than it should be. Lando pistons his hips in and out of you through his high, and with one last cry, black spots cover your vision.

"Fuck!- oh, fuck, lan, lan, lan," you repeat his name like a prayer because he might as well be god. Your arms thrash in Lando's hold, already yearning for his touch like you always do post-sex.

Lando releases a guttural groan as he pulls his softening dick out, twitching when your asshole involuntarily clenches around him. You're still breathing so fucking loud when he collapses beside you and wraps an arm around your neck to rest your head against his chest.

Lando shifts, tugging the thick blanket around your sweaty, cum-painted bodies before you hear, "Shit! Baby, didn't mean to hold 'em that hard, does it hurt?"

You furrow your brows, following Lando's eyeline; your otherwise plain wrists were adorned with the scarlet imprint of your boyfriend's hand.

Shrugging, you scoot up and bury your forehead on the crook of his neck, mumbling, "Don't care."

Lando places a mental reminder to put some cream on it in the morning, but for now, he's happy to place small kisses on the top of your head, whispering praises and 'thank you's into your ear.

When you rub your head against him shyly at his words, Lando can't help but laugh fondly at you.

Like a cat, he thinks again.

Lemme know how you liked this story or give me some feedback in the comments or my inbox! 💬🧸

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cherienymphe · 5 months

Text

Basic Training XVII (Peter Parker x Reader)

Warnings: NON-CON, DUB-CON, mentions of MURDER, violence, kidnapping, captivity, public sex, degradation, forced pregnancy, forced marriage, stockholm syndrome, ptsd, housewife kink, cop!Peter

➥ banner by @vase-of-lilies | divider by @whimsicalrogers

➥ series masterlist

summary: A pit stop during a road trip ends tragically when a small town cop sets his sights on you. You’re the newest addition in a long standing fucked up family tradition.

You stared into the darkness of the basement for what felt like too long.

It was quiet down there, but not the kind of quiet that felt comforting. It was the kind of silence that felt suffocating—taunting. It was so loud in its taunting, snickering at you and your idiocy and naivety. Even as you laid on the floor, feeling like the lowest of jokes, you couldn’t bring yourself to regret the decisions that brought you here.

Nat was your friend. Or at least, you liked to consider her one, and even faced with the threat of the worst punishment Steve could muster, you just couldn’t imagine yourself doing anything differently. You couldn’t imagine yourself waking Peter up that night and telling him you saw the redhead escaping, effectively alerting the other husbands to her presence, leading to her subsequent capture. It just wasn’t in you, and clearly none of these men—not even Peter—knew you at all if they thought it was.

The first time you tried to move, you couldn’t, and for a brief moment, you thought that Steve had injured you in his delight to toss you down the stairs like a sack of flour instead of a person. However, you quickly came to realize that wasn’t the case. You could move your fingers and toes fine, even twitch your leg, but you just couldn’t find the strength to move. You felt beyond defeated, and when you blinked, you weren’t shocked to feel a sting behind your eyes.

There was the most awful aching feeling in your chest, both heavy and hollow even though you didn’t know how that was possible. You wanted to cry and scream, but you also never wanted to utter another word ever again. You wanted to let out everything you felt since the moment you came here, but in the same breath, you desperately wanted to feel numb. If you didn’t feel a thing, then you couldn’t get hurt, and you hurt so much, right now.

Peter killed Michelle.

He didn’t help kill her, but he did kill her, and in the grand scheme of things, maybe that shouldn’t make a difference. After all, you’d still been under the impression that he did nothing while his brothers did. You’d still been under the belief that he allowed it to happen at best and helped it happen and cover it up at worst. So, why did Peter pulling the trigger make all the difference in the world to you?

Was it because you thought you were falling in love with him?

That thought had you squeezing your eyes shut, so tight that it hurt, and it was hard to hold back your sob. Your nails scraped against the hard floor as you shook, struggling to breathe as your stomach turned. Once you started it was so hard to stop, and it wasn’t long before the sound of your choked cries were filling the basement. It was a thought you’d considered before, but that was when he wasn’t a murderer.

That was when he hadn’t murdered your best friend.

How could you possibly rationalize it now? Deep down, you knew that this wasn’t your fault. Deep down you knew that there were names and studies dedicated to people in your position and the psychology behind it, but that didn’t make you feel any better. Peter had murdered your friend in cold blood…

…and you thought you loved him.

The thought made you want to be sick, and with horror, you could actually feel your stomach turning. You hurried to sit up, pressing the back of your hand to your mouth as you struggled to keep it down. The bathroom only some feet away was locked—wouldn’t be unlocked until someone came down to open it and let you in—and you didn’t think you could handle sitting in a room with your vomit just stewing in the corner.

Struggling to get to your feet, you pressed your other hand to your stomach, trying to settle it. Keeping your mouth closed, you breathed through your nose, lashes fluttering, and after some time, you slowly stumbled towards where you knew the bed to be. You didn’t care about turning on the light, finding no need, and when you sat down, your head drooped in defeat.

There was really no telling how long they’d keep you in here until they figured out what to do with you, and while you knew that Peter would try his damndest to get them to go easy on you, you also knew that they wouldn’t consider a word that left his mouth. You—and also Peter by extension—had proven Steve and the others right, and you found it unlikely they’d ever listen to another suggestion from Peter about you ever again. Or at the very least, not for a long time.

Besides, Peter wasn’t the aggrieved party.

Bucky was, and such a thought made you shudder. You’d done well to avoid attracting Bucky’s ire even though he reminded you of Steve in some ways. Although, unlike Steve, Bucky didn’t seem the type to look for any and every excuse to punish you as he’d prefer in a contrast to Peter’s methods. Bucky seemed—if nothing else—fair to you, and that’s what scared you the most.

Bucky now felt wronged by you.

So, there was really no telling what was in store for you.

You recalled the way he’d reached for you, desperately trying to get past Peter in his efforts to get his hands on you. You didn’t want to imagine what he would’ve done had he succeeded, and you swallowed as your mind went rampant with the possibilities. Your hand came up to graze the tear in your sleeve, wincing at the slight sting you felt when your finger came in contact with the skin. Some part of you knew that had Bucky succeeded, he just might have killed you in his rage, and where you once would’ve welcomed such a thought…

It only made your heart ache, now.

You didn’t want to die, and when you thought about why, your stomach only twisted into knots once again. Wrapping your arms around yourself, you keeled over, throat tight as you tried to swallow down another sob. Your chest hurt so much, feeling like someone had an iron grip on your heart and was just squeezing and twisting it to their content. When you gasped, a cry escaped with it, and the only other time you could recall feeling like this was the day you realized your friends were dead and you were all alone.

You cried until your throat felt raw, and you didn’t fight your body as it started to collapse to the floor, sliding off of the bed in a heap. Covering your face with your hands, your lightly dragged your nails down your skin, frame shaking as you rocked back and forth. Your stomach wouldn’t stop hurting, and you couldn’t stop shaking. In fear or anger or despair—you didn’t know.

You did know that this was all Peter’s fault. He was the one who decided he had to have you, as if you were some thing to be acquired instead of a human being with a life and feelings and autonomy. If it weren’t for him, your friends would still be alive, and you wouldn’t even be here. If it weren’t for him, you wouldn’t be feeling ripped apart by how you felt about the man who kidnapped and raped you. All of this was Peter’s fault…and even still…more than anything…

All you wanted was for him to hold you.

It was hard to say how long you stayed in the basement. The darkness and silence was endless, and it felt like months, but in reality, it was probably mere days. You did know that it was long enough for your stomach to ache from more than just fear and for your nightgown to stink from more than just sweat. You didn’t think you were capable of feeling embarrassed about that anymore. After all, Peter never made you feel like it was something to be embarrassed about, but that was before you heard the sound of the locks on the basement door.

Despite your shame, you couldn’t bring yourself to move.

Until the light from the top of the stairs outlined a familiar silhouette.

You merely stared at him as he stood on the first step, yours on him and his eyes on you. You couldn’t hear any noise coming from the main part of the house, and you said nothing when he closed the door behind him. Peter wasn’t good. You knew that since the beginning when he told you that everything he did was so that he could have you, making it all okay. Peter had never been good.

So, why did looking at him now hurt so much more than it ever had?

As soon as Peter was close enough, the first thing he did was take your face into his hands. You couldn’t really feel them, realizing that you got your wish to feel numb, and that just made your chest ache more. Just days ago you were desperate to feel the comfort of Peter’s touch, and now you couldn’t feel it, at all.

“Hey, pretty girl,” he murmured, face a mere inch away from yours.

When you didn’t say anything back, you noticed the way his face fell, lips pressed together as he eyed you. His gaze lingered on yours for the longest, thumbs just grazing your skin, and you watched the way his tongue darted out to swipe between his lips.

“We need to get you cleaned up.”

His words had you blinking, and it was only then did you notice the fresh dress resting on the crook of his arm. You didn’t ask him what day it was because it didn’t matter. You only knew what would be happening today, and it’s why the dress on Peter’s arm was so pretty. It was why you’d been locked in the basement for days. It was why Peter looked at you the way he did as he helped you stand.

“I’m so sorry,” were the words he murmured into your hair as soon as he leaned you against him.

What was he apologizing for exactly? For killing Michelle or lying to you about it? For taking you and ruining your life in the first place? Or for failing to protect you from the wrath of the other husbands? Maybe he was apologizing for what was to come, and that made you shut your eyes.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered again as he brought your head to rest in the crook of his neck.

You didn’t respond—didn’t know how to—only allowing him to guide you into the bathroom after unlocking it. You couldn’t really say how you got naked, only feeling as if you blinked before finding yourself sitting in a tub of hot water with Peter raining water down over your head. He was talking to you, saying something that went in one ear and out of the other. All you could focus on was that dress on the toilet, wondering what they planned to make you do while wearing it.

When you felt the weight of Peter’s gaze, it was only then did you take note of the silence. You didn’t know if he’d asked you a question or if he simply opted to stare at you, but when his hand came up to graze the side of your face, you assumed it was the latter. Perusing you, you watched as his gaze became distracted by the shallow scrape on your arm from Bucky’s nails, and when Peter’s jaw tightened, you knew that he realized where it came from too.

“Peter,” you softly forced out, throat tight.

He gave you his undivided attention, and you licked your lips.

“What are they going to do to me?”

Your question came out almost inaudible, just barely above a whisper as you found yourself almost too afraid to ask—too fearful to want to know. When Peter’s face fell some, your own frown deepened, and when he sighed, your heart sank.

“I don’t… I don’t know,” he slowly told you, and you could see that he was telling the truth.

You knew that Peter would have no say in this, you’d known that, but faced with the knowledge that was completely in the dark only served to make your stomach twist more. Only this time, you weren’t able to stop it, and it was Peter who kept you from falling as you hurried to get out of the tub. You only just made it to the toilet in time, and with nothing in your stomach to throw up, all you expelled was bile.

One of Peter’s hands were on your waist, the other soothingly rubbing your back as you vomited again. With every heave of your stomach, you shook more and more, and when you were done, you could only stare at the wall behind the toilet.

“You’re sick,” he said, tone strained with worry.

You shook your head.

“No, I’m just… I’m scared,” you honestly told him, lifting your gaze to meet his. “…and heartbroken.”

Peter sadly tilted his head, and your lips quivered.

“Why did you lie to me?” you breathed. “Why did you…? Why did you minimize your part in it?”

You continued before Peter could lie some more.

“Why did you hold me and comfort me and tell me you weren’t as bad as them when you’re much worse?”

“I’m not,” he argued, grabbing your shoulder.

“…but you are,” you said with a frown. “At least with Steve and Tony and Bucky I know who they are. I fear them because they’ve shown me why I should.”

Peter pulled you closer, resting your head on his chest as he rocked you.

“You made me love you.”

The words came out small and choked, your face crumbling as Peter stilled, and you’d stupidly thought you had no more tears left. Your body proved you wrong, frame shaking as your chest tightened, a cry escaping you in the otherwise quiet bathroom. Peter didn’t respond right away, just holding you as you cried.

“I’m still the same person I was before you found out,” he whispered, rocking you. “…the same person you begged to run away with.”

You squeezed your eyes shut.

“I’m not proud of what I did,” he confessed. “…but it’s why I can hold you every night for as long as I want.”

He leaned down to gently kiss your forehead, and your vacant and tearful gaze was on the bathtub, now.

“You don’t have to agree with it, even I don’t agree with it, but it had to be done if I wanted you all to myself.”

You knew that justified it all in Peter’s mind, and the part of your brain that was conditioned to normalize your new reality wanted to pull him closer, but the part that desperately missed your friends and family and old life only wanted to be sick.

When Peter rinsed you off and dried you, his fingers grazed your skin as he helped you get dressed. Soothing words left his lips that didn’t really mean much because how could he calm you against something that was unknown to him too? He didn’t even know what he was comforting you from. Once dressed, he stood before you, looking you over with his fingers grazing over yours.

When your eyes met his, his gaze softened, and you didn’t stop him when he leaned in to press his lips to the corner of your mouth. Like every touch and kiss of his, now, you didn’t really feel it, and when Peter pulled away, you felt that the numbness that consumed you reflected in your own gaze. He heaved a sigh, fingering the ring on your finger.

“I still love you,” he assured you, looking at you from beneath his lashes. “That’ll never change…and even… Even when I have to do whatever it is I have to do today, I’ll be doing it with love.”

Those words didn’t exactly comfort you, and your eyes briefly closed when he walked you out of the bathroom. The stairs were hard to take, courtesy of your lack of food and what little sleep you’d managed to get. You shook beside Peter, and you knew that it was from more than just not eating. In fact, you were sure you were going to throw up again.

The house was unusually quiet—as well as empty—and that did nothing to alleviate your uneasiness. Peter’s hold on your hand was gentle, and as much you loved to hate him in this moment, you appreciated that he walked outside with you instead of walking you outside like a prisoner. You were surprised by how early it was in the day, bringing your hand up to shield your eyes from the rising sun. Days in the darkness had them hurting from the harsh natural light.

Just as you got used to it, a familiar and intimidating voice spoke.

“Leave her right there.”

Only, it wasn’t the voice you were used to being on the receiving end of. Your eyes met familiar blue ones as Peter was forced to step away from you, Bucky’s gaze very much transparent as he looked at you. His anger and disgust were palpable, and you found that you couldn’t hold his gaze.

That was a mistake.

“You will look at me,” he sneered, hurrying over to you and harshly gripping your chin.

Behind him, you could see Peter take a step forward only to be stopped by Sam. Bucky’s fingers were painfully pressing into your skin, and as difficult as you found it, you held the brunette’s gaze. It was in that moment that you realized why the house had seemed so quiet on your way out. You noted that the only person missing was Jane, and you guessed with her pregnancy and a need for someone to watch Margaret and Sharon’s children, they decided to kill two birds with one stone.

They clearly didn’t want to stress her, and that only made you more fearful of what was in store for you.

“We’re not stupid, you know,” Bucky said to you, and you swallowed. “We expect the odd escape attempt here and there.”

You weren’t used to being on the receiving end of Bucky’s venomous gaze, blue eyes icy.

“We look forward to it even,” he confessed. “None of you will ever succeed, so it helps you realize that, and you get it out of your systems.”

You blinked back tears, and Bucky took note of them, lip curling over his teeth.

“In fact…we had been anticipating yours from the moment we let you out of that basement, but I guess you really were too docile to fight back properly,” he continued, voice growing bitter. “Too docile even to tell one of us when our wife was trying to escape.”

When you blinked again, a tear finally escaped, and you didn’t know if you were supposed to respond. Evidently you were.

“What?” Bucky wondered, roughly letting your chin go. “Nothing to say for yourself?”

Your chest heaved with a deep breath, and you started to glance around.

“No, don’t look at them. Look at me,” Bucky ordered. “After all, it was my wife who anything could’ve happened to.”

When your gaze met his again, more tears spilled over, and you sniffed.

“I’m sorry-.”

“We expect you to fight back…try and make a run for it… What we don’t expect is more loyalty to a traitorous wife than the men of the house,” he interrupted you, spitting the words out and making you flinch. “…because anything could come of that. You could kill one of us.”

“I… I’m sorry,” you said again, knowing it wouldn’t change anything but also knowing it was what he wanted to hear.

Bucky stared at you for a long time—too long—just looking down his nose at you as if he could barely stand to look at you. You were all too aware of the eyes on you, all too aware of the example being made out of you. You were in the dark about what was going to happen, now, and it made you want to be sick. However, of all the things you expected…

You didn’t expect Bucky to quickly grab your arm, twisting it—and you with his other arm—before violently shoving you to the ground. It happened so fast that when you finally cried out in pain, clutching your wrist, you were already looking up at him from the grass. He wasn’t looking at you though, hands behind his back as he stepped away from you.

“There are two outcomes for you today,” he started, making his way towards Peter who looked like he was moments away from committing murder—again. “Personally, I’m partial to either outcome…”

When you started to push yourself to your feet, the dark-haired man heard it, pausing to look at you with a wag of his finger.

“No, no. You don’t get up yet…”

Heart sinking, you sat back down, clutching your arm to you as you looked between him and Peter.

“The first,” he dragged out, resting a hand on Peter’s shoulder. “We finally get to see what Peter has in him…”

You froze, skin growing cold and heart dropping to your gut.

“…see if he has what it takes to make you…” Bucky turned his gaze to you, eyes glinting wickedly “…beg him to stop.”

You couldn’t stop more tears from spilling over, the realization of what this day could possibly bring crashing down on you like a wave. When you glanced over, your eyes met a familiar green pair, and Nat’s disgust and regret was plain as day on her face. She looked at you like she wanted to take your place in a heartbeat, but you both knew that wasn’t going to happen.

You couldn’t hold in your sob, pressing your hand to your mouth.

“You can’t cry, now,” Bucky’s voice reached you as he neared you. “We haven’t even started yet.”

He forced you to your feet, and his hands were the only thing keeping you from collapsing.

When you first got here, Peter promised that that would never be you. He told you that he would never, but considering the circumstances of your offense, that choice was no longer up to him. You couldn’t stop sobbing, choking noises climbing out of your throat as Bucky continued.

“The other option is two months in the basement.”

When your eyes met Bucky’s again, there was a gleam in his eye and a curve to his lips that told you it wouldn’t be so easy as choosing which you’d prefer. You didn’t even want to say that the choice would be easy if given one because while your worst fear was recreating what Margaret had to go through during your first days here…you also knew that two months down in that darkness would break you beyond belief.

Two months down there, and you were sure you wouldn’t even be yourself when you emerged.

“It all depends on who gets to you first,” Bucky softly said, making you frown at him.

When he stepped away, you swayed on your feet, but his hand met your arm again when he turned you towards the small pond, free arm gesturing towards the dense trees behind it.

“Those legs that are near and dear to Peter’s heart are going to take you as far as you can go…”

His whispered words made you frown.

“Now, don’t think that you’re getting away…” he looked at you and you slowly looked at him. “…because you’re not. Someone will catch you, it’s only a matter of who, and that determines if this pretty little dress is coming off or not.”

His reminder of one of the possibilities made you lightheaded, and you pressed your hand to your chest when he walked away.

“If Peter catches you, then Peter will do what he has been instructed to do…”

The man in question spoke up, quietly pleading with Bucky, but the older man ignored him.

“…and I was going to participate in this little game,” Bucky said, jaw ticking as he looked at you. “…but you deserve to be terrified after what you did.”

You pressed your lips together, blinking away tears as you wrapped your arms around yourself.

“So…” he backed up, a small smile on his pink lips. “If Steve catches you…”

You couldn’t stop your knees from buckling, world spinning as you caught yourself on your hands and knees. Your skin pricked, and you felt almost on the verge of a heart attack.

“He gets to put you in the basement…” a pause. “Again.”

The sounds of the world were going in and out, and once again, you felt like you were going to throw up. Both options were the last thing you ever wanted, and once you ran into those trees, you didn’t know what would relieve you less—the sight of Peter or the sight of Steve. It was sick, really, because obviously you would rather be caught by Peter, but not if it meant…that.

…and if Steve caught you, you just knew it wasn’t going to be that simple

“Whenever you’re ready.”

Bucky’s words were mocking, filled with a mixture of disdain and satisfaction, and as you looked up at him, you didn’t know who you hated more—him or Steve. The blond in question was someone you had avoided looking at since you stepped outside, bitter to see the sick satisfaction that no doubt covered his features at your humiliation.

Your comeuppance.

Pushing yourself to your feet was a struggle, and you didn’t look at Peter, too afraid to realize that he might be who you wanted to catch you, after all, even if it did mean public humiliation beyond comprehension. You felt beyond alone as you walked down the small decline, the dewy grass so nice against the soles of your feet despite the circumstances.

It was only when you got to the tree line, staring inside, did it hit you.

You were going to be hunted and chased down like some animal, and depending on who caught you first, that was what your punishment would be. Both options were enough to make your stomach flip, and for the life of you, you just couldn’t decide which was better. With a panicked sob, you forced your feet to move.

Every tree looked just like the other to you, and there was nothing in these woods to signal some kind of progress as you ran. It was crazy to think that there had once been days when you dreamed about being in these woods, closer to freedom and away from the craziness you’d been forced into. Now, however, you were in said trees and all you could think about was who would get to you first.

Bucky’s words echoed in your mind.

It wasn’t a matter of whether either of them would catch you. Both of you knew that you weren’t getting away from here, let alone from Peter or Steve in these woods. One of them was going to find you first, and even as you brushed past harmful branches and stumbling vines, you still didn’t know which choice presented to you was better. More than anything, you wanted it to be Peter to find you, but could you be okay with being raped for the whole household to see? This wasn’t like that day with Margaret…

Both Steve and Bucky wanted to make the biggest example out of you, and so the entire household would be there to witness your humiliation. However…it was one day. One hour even at the most of Peter doing what he normally did whenever you were alone…just in front of everyone else. If Steve caught you on the other hand…

Two months in the basement was a thought that actually made your knees shake, causing you to stumble against a tree. You knew—you knew—that you couldn’t handle that, and you knew that Peter knew it too. One option was just one bad day, that was all, but the other option would turn you into even more of a mess than you already were. You’d spent less than a week down there at the most, and both times were hell for you.

The second more so than the worst, and you didn’t want to unpack why that was.

When you heard a tree branch snap, you felt yourself freezing. The tree you were next to was larger, much larger than you, and you remained perfectly still as your hand rested against it. You had only stopped for a few moments, and the whole time you’d been lost in your thoughts, you hadn’t even heard any footsteps. In fact, something in you told you that you were supposed to hear the snap of that branch.

When you dared to peek around the trunk, all of your breath left you.

The sight of Steve’s blond hair and back was a stomach turning one, and just as quietly as you peeked around, you hid yourself behind the tree once more. With one movement, you could end this torture and not have to be fucked for the whole household to see, but no matter how much you didn’t want that…you couldn’t bring yourself to move.

…because you didn’t want the alternative either.

Steve terrified you beyond belief—something Bucky had acknowledged—and something in you just knew that he wasn’t going to find you and take you back to the house as easy as that. Outside of raping Margaret, you had never heard of Steve doling out any kind of physical abuse, but you had a sneaking suspicion that Steve would strike you square across the face if he could get away with it.

Peeking around the tree again, you watched him walk away, scanning the area before him for any sign of you. Your nails pressed into the trunk, and with a sinking heart, you both accepted and hoped that Peter would find you, making peace with what that meant for you. With Steve completely out of your sight, you didn’t know which way to go, and so you went forward, adjacent to the direction Steve went.

You felt like you were getting so turned around the further you walked, and you wondered what would happen if you just decided to go back to the house. You wondered how the punishment would be decided then—provided you actually made it back without being caught. The thought of being caught by Steve prevented you from remaining calm and thinking clearly.

Or maybe it was everything else that did that.

You could feel a familiar burn behind your eyes, and you struggled to swallow, throat feeling incredibly tight. You’d thought that you cried enough in the basement, but that kept proving to be untrue. A few tears skipped down your face before many more followed behind, and you took in a shaky breath.

How was it that you hated Peter so so much for what he did…while also wanting nothing more than to just return to your bedroom with him when this was over? You didn’t want to go back down there, alone and bathed in darkness. You wanted to sleep in your bed with Peter and you wanted him to hold you while you cried about the very thing he’d done that caused the tears.

You hated him, but you wanted to be near him.

You didn’t want to hate him from afar. You wanted to hate him while staring at his face every night and listening to the sound of his breathing and feeling his hands on your shoulder as he sat behind you in the bathtub. You hated Peter so much for what he did—and lying about it—but it just wasn’t the kind of hate where you couldn’t stand the sight of him, and you hated him all the more for that.

You were pulled from your thoughts by the sound of footsteps, and considering you’d gone in the opposite direction of Steve, you were prepared to meet your fate when your gaze would meet that of a familiar brown one. Only, the eyes that met yours weren’t brown…they were blue…and you felt your lips part.

You didn’t hesitate to run the other way, a scream climbing out of your throat when you were tackled to the ground. Steve’s hand was pressed to the back of your head as he slammed your face against the leaves and sticks, making you gasp, and when his arm snaked around your neck, a choked sound left you.

You weren’t surprised when he threw you to the dirt again.

“I knew…” he started, slowly following you as you attempted to crawl away. “From the moment Peter gave us that crock of shit about a gentler method, I fucking knew.”

You clawed at the dirt when Steve reached down to pull on one of your legs.

“I knew then that he was being too soft with you,” he spat, flipping you over. “I knew that it would come back to bite us.”

Steve squatted over you, one hand tightly curling around your throat, and you struggled to breathe as he slowly forced you to your feet. Your scraped at his hand, gaze tearful and pleading as Steve stared you down, nostrils flaring. His blond hair was a mess, an unusual sight for you, but those blue eyes were as cold as ever.

Steve really hated you.

“Bucky is better than me,” Steve hissed at you. “…because if Margaret had gotten as far as Nat did because of you, I wouldn’t make Peter stop until you were begging for him to put you out of your misery.”

You pushed at his hands, panicked, and he only shook you in response.

“You think he’s your best fucking friend,” Steve breathed through clenched teeth, sizing you up. “Instead of the man who owns you.”

When he threw you down, your head spun, and you struggled to right your vision. You pressed your hands to your temples as you cried, fighting the urge to curl in on yourself.

“That ends today…”

Steve’s words were spoken with finality, and you didn’t quite understand the meaning of them as you heard approaching footsteps. You heard Steve exhale, and when you dared to look up, your heart skipped a beat at the sight of Peter.

“Peter,” he acknowledged. “Love that timing of yours.”

Peter didn’t hesitate to hurry towards you, placing a hand on your head as you sobbed. As you’d suspected, you knew it wasn’t going to be that simple if Steve caught you instead, and you realized just how complicated it was going to be at the sound of his next words.

“We need to make sure nothing like this happens again, Peter,” Steve told him, and they shared a look, something unspoken between them that had Peter’s jaw clenching.

“So, is that why you forgot who she belongs to? Is that why you treated her like you used to treat Peggy on her really bad days? She’s already terrified of you. What more do you want?” he sneered at him, briefly looking at you and brushing his thumb over your cheek.

“I need her to be terrified of you,” Steve answered, hands on his hips. “I told you from the beginning that you were too soft with her. I told you what needed to be done for her to get it.”

“Yeah, Steve, alright, I get it-!”

“…but you don’t,” Steve yelled at Peter, staring at the younger man just like a brother would. “You don’t get it because if you did, this would’ve never happened.”

Steve gestured around, cutting you a scathing look that made you wither.

“She would’ve never felt more loyal to Nat than the men who run this household. She would’ve understood that she exists to serve you and the house as a whole by extension.”

You hated the way Peter’s hands slowed on your face, and when you looked at his own face, he looked to be deep in thought.

“Not just the wives and whatever they think is best, but what’s best for the family,” Steve paced. “You are going to make her understand that she’s not your friend and certainly not your fucking equal.”

You watched Peter defeatedly exhale, eyes falling closed.

“You are going to make her understand that, right now,” Steve snarled.

“Steve…”

Peter’s tone was pleading, and that was when you finally sat up, looking between them with a racing heart. You scooted back, but Peter’s hand on your arm prevented you from going far. When your gaze met his, his eyes had softened, something in them pleading with you.

“I will make you, Peter.”

Steve’s tone was scarily calm, and you glanced at him, lips shaking at the malice in his eyes.

“Do you understand me? I will not rest until I catch her slipping up again, and depending on my mood that day, I just might make you fuck her right there in the garden for all to see,” he quietly told him. “So, it’s either now or it’s later…but it is happening. You decide.”

In truth, you didn’t know why you were crying. You had already accepted that you’d rather get the bad thing over with than drag it out for two months. However, that was the thing, wasn’t it? Steve was going to make Peter do this and still turn around and throw you right down in that basement. Even though there was less humiliation involved, it still seemed unfair.

“Do this and…maybe I can convince Bucky to only leave her down there for a month,” Steve proposed, and by the tone of his voice, he knew that he’d won.

You barely had time send Steve a scathing look of your own before your back roughly met the ground.

Peter’s mannerisms were rough, and while you knew it was because Steve wanted them to be, it didn’t mean you had to like it. You didn’t think Peter had ever been rough with you, and you cried out at the harsh pull on your hair, his other hand painfully digging into your waist.

“See, you need to understand, sweetheart,” Steve’s voice reached your ears as he circled you. “That you belong to Peter. You exist as an extension of him, now. You exist to exalt him, and the only way that you will get it in your head that you’re his property…”

Peter had flipped you onto your stomach, now.

“Is if he treats you like it.”

You yelped when your chest was forced to the ground, Peter manhandling you in the way he knew Steve wanted.

“…and what better way to do that than to show you that he can and will take you wherever and whenever regardless of who is around to see it,” he slowly said, making sure he was heard loud and clear.

The humiliation of feeling Peter push his cock into you before Steve’s very eyes had you squeezing yours shut, a harsh sob escaping as Peter’s skin slapped against yours. His hand was on your throat, and you clawed at it, gasping when his teeth pressed into your shoulder.

“You don’t have autonomy over your body anymore. You don’t exist independently of Peter, and that extends to this family…”

Peter’s harsh thrusts made your toes curl, and what was once a rough entry had become much smoother. With no warning and feeling wholly unprepared for this turn of events, tears escaped your eyes, and your fingers dug into the grass and dirt. The feel of Peter’s cock pushing into your walls was a familiar one you’d grown to love, but the sound of Steve’s pacing steps and voice made you want to crawl in a hole.

You felt torn apart.

“Had you previously understood that, all of this could’ve been prevented.”

Steve sounded pleased with himself—and Peter—and the thought made you sick. When Peter pulled your head back, you winced, and you started to move away from him, wanting this earlier and regretting it now—especially since you were going back into the basement anyway.

When Peter’s lips grazed your ear, you shuddered.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered to you, hand painfully pulling at your hair, making you cry out again.

You recalled Peter’s words from earlier, and you knew why this was happening. You understood the hierarchy in the household, understood that what Steve said went, and you knew without a shadow of a doubt that Steve would’ve absolutely made this happen for the whole house to say. You understood that this was the better alternative, but that understanding is what made you cry more.

This wasn’t something to be understood. The man thrusting into you had killed your friends and kidnapped you, and the man before you had helped. Peter wasn’t your husband or your lover but instead your captor and rapist. Nothing about any of this was right, and in this moment, you shouldn’t be rationalizing or understanding anything.

…but you did.

You understood why Peter grabbed you with no hesitation and proceeded to fuck you under Steve’s watchful eye. You understood why being raped for all to see had briefly been the better choice to you than being sent back into the basement. You understood why Peter was murmuring sweet nothings and apologies into your ear as he roughly held you down and plunged his cock into you.

You understood it all, and you hated it.

You didn’t want to simultaneously hold Peter closer and push him away as he roughly fucked you against the grass, face to face with you, now. You didn’t want him to obey when Steve told him to fuck you harder. You didn’t want to understand that Peter didn’t actually want this because if that were true he simply wouldn’t do it, right? You didn’t want to accept that this house didn’t follow the rules of the outside world and that so long as you were here—and you would be here forever—neither would you.

“Are you sorry, now?” Steve wondered, somehow able to hear his voice over the sound of your cries. “Hmm?”

You didn’t give him the satisfaction of an answer, but you knew you gave him that anyway the moment you started crying. When Peter’s eyes met yours, he shushed you, a poor attempt to make this better somehow, and his next words made you blink.

“Do you see how much worse I could be?” he whispered, too low for Steve to hear. “How much worse they want me to be?”

You stared at him, nails digging into the skin of his arm, and with another harsh sob, you nodded.

“Do you understand what I’ve been trying to protect you from?”

Again, you nodded.

Peter’s nose grazed your own.

“Do you get it now?” he sadly asked you.

When you nodded again, unable to find your voice between cries, Peter shushed you. His fingers pressed into your skin, and his hips painfully came down against yours. When his lips pressed against yours, they swallowed the noises that escaped your throat.

“I never wanted this for you.”

…and you knew Peter was telling the truth.

#peter parker x reader #dark!peter parker #dark!peter parker x reader #peter parker fanfiction #dark fic #peter parker imagine #marvel fanfiction #marvel imagine #cop au

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scoobysnakz · 3 months

Note

ok but imagine loser!Miguel finding out that the reader has been seeing someone (casually, nothing physical… yet) and he has to try to put a stop to it while also having to listen to her swoon over said man RAAAAHHHH

AHHH OMG YESSS!!! LOVE THIS IDEA SMMM OMG

loser miguel who can’t help but get frustrated about the way you ramble on about him with that dopey smile on your face. normally, he’d be over the moon to see you so happy but the fact that it’s because of someone else…

it’s bad enough he can’t bend you over the break room table and pound your sweet cunt with his nose buried in your hair, now he has to contain his jealousy as well.

loser miguel who realises he can’t take this anymore and decides to end whatever silly ‘situationship’ you have going on.

loser miguel who starts pointing out all of the flaws he has, whether or not they’re real aren’t important.

“when was the last time he texted you?” he pipes in one day, forcing himself into the conversation, not that you care, you’re just happy good friend miguel is finally interested in your love life.

“i’m not sure.” you shrug, finger idly tapping the side of your mug half full with the coffee miguel made you. “sometime yesterday, i think.”

he just raises his brow with a sharp breath before walking off, praying that you start to overthink this minor flaw. but he knows you, and he knows you’ll get dragged down an endless rabbit hole of doubt.

loser miguel who inserts himself into your life, hoping that you’ll realize how much more useful he is than him. he starts making you coffee in the morning and bringing in croissants from the café over the road.

he loves the little thank you’s that you coo with a kiss to his cheek when he slides on your coat on your way out and the pretty smile that graces your face when he ‘coincidentally’ bumps into you by your house.

loser miguel who wants to know what’s going on when the two of you have to stay behind to work on something. he slides over to your side of your desk, his hand moving over the top of yours to stop your endless scribbling.

you look up at him through heavy eyes, the lack of sleep obviously getting to you. he can tell you haven’t had a good nights rest in a while and he’ll be damned if it’s not because your staying up all night texting your special someone.

“hmm?”

that soft, quiet hum resonates throughout miguel, travelling up his arms and legs and settling in the pit of his stomach. the feebleness of it makes him want to melt right then and there, pull you into a tight embrace until you fall asleep in his arms because the mere sight of you too tired to even ask a proper question is more than enough to make his heart ache.

“your eyes are all scrunched up, mami,” he sighs, a calloused hand coming up to push some of your hair out of your face. “when was the last time you got a good eight hours?”

you shrug, not even bothering to lie to him like the last few times he’s asked. “dunno.”

the next thing you know, miguel has his big strong arms wrapped you as you bawl your eyes out about how sucky this guy is. he’s not as understanding and kind and other guys you’ve been with, he doesn’t soften from your love and he doesn’t stare at you with those lovestruck eyes.

and while you feel so vain and self absorbed for expecting this from some random guy, miguel is practically dancing with glee. he knows why you expect all this, why you crave the gentleness and love of this man. he’s put these standards in your head, he’s the one who has been treating you this way because he’s who’s best for you.

you just need to realize it.

loser miguel who has to leave you alone to finish of the assignment for the evening, as much as he hates leaving you on your own, but the fear of you feeling his hardened cock digging into your thigh is much stronger.

he spends the rest of the evening relentlessly fucking his fist, imagining that it’s your tight pussy that squeezing his cock and not his thick fingers.

loser miguel who comes into work sorely disappointed to see you with eye bags big enough to hold two baby elephants and a makeup less face, not like he’s bothered but he knows how you like to doll yourself up for work.

he thought he told you to get a good nights rest !! why on earth are you so tired ??

“did you get any sleep at all?” he scolds, thick arms crossed his chest.

you look up at him, blinking slowly as you try and process his words. “‘course, migs,” you mumble while waving a dismissive hand at him.

“por dios,” he chides.

sliding an arm around your waist, miguel slots himself into the chair next to yours. you let yourself relax against him, your head nuzzling into the warmth of his chest and eyes flickering shut.

“couldn’t sleep.”

how badly he wants to pull you into his lap and let you curl up like a little kitten as you fall asleep clinging onto him like your life depends on it.

he lifts a large hand to smooth the crinkles in your shirt, smiling smugly as you let out a content sigh. “was thinking ‘bout what you’d been saying, how he isn’t good enough because he isn’t nice and stuff,” you admit scornfully, “and started thinking ‘bout things i shouldn’t.”

miguel nods, trying to pay attention to what you’re saying while also attempting to suppress his erection. “mami, you shouldn’t have been thinking about silly things so late, you need your sleep.”

loser miguel who loves the way you cling to him, sleepy mumbling an abundance of apologies as you nuzzle your head into his chest and stare up at him with those fatigued doe eyes.

he’s so grateful that it’s too early for anyone else to be in the lab otherwise he’s be too nervous to be holding you so close. he’s still trying to handle the glares he gets when he holds the door open for you.

loser miguel who whispers sweet words of reassurance as you start to bawl your eyes out all over again. you’re a blabbering mess with reddened eyes and puffy lips that he just can’t resist.

he leans down, face inches away from yours, and breathes in the comfortingly sweet scent of your perfume that he’s grown so accustomed to.

“why won’t he do all the things you say he should? how am i so clueless that i didn’t even realise he should?” you sob helplessly, “you’re always so sweet to me, why can’t he?”

“awww, poor chica,” he coos huskily. the warmth of his voice soothes you slightly, it’s like warm honey trickling past his perfect lips and dripping into your ears until all you can hear is the low rumble of his accent.

loser miguel whose heart nearly stops when you kiss him. never in a million years did he expect you to make the first move. every time he’s fantasised about it, he’d always been the one to pull you in, press you against the wall, whatever it is he’s the bold one.

but now your soft lips are pressed against his and all he can think about is how sickly sweet they taste.

his hand cups the back of your head, feeling the shape of your scalp and the softness of your hair. greedily, he deepens the kiss, cock straining against the seam of his pants. his tongue pushes itself into your mouth, hastily taking in the flavour of you as his desire for you deepens.

loser miguel who is panting and bewildered when you pull away, fingers curling up into the muscle of his chest.

“i was trying to kiss your cheek.”

loser miguel master list

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xqueen-of-disasterx · 8 months

Text

as sweet as a peach

Paring: Innocent!reader x dads!friend!Nat

Summery: You and the friend of your dad happened to have a pretty close relationship

Warnings: SMUT, clit play, dom!Nat, sub!reader, masturbation, dry humping, oral, praise kink, degradation kink, slut shaming?, pervy!Nat?, Nat fingering a peach, age gap (legal)

Word count: 1.4k

!Disclaimer English is not my first language so please excuse any grammar or spelling errors. This story is completely fictional!

Masterlist

ꕀꕀ ─── ⋆⋅ ✨🌞✨ ⋅⋆─── ꕀꕀ

“Those peaches” She reached out for one of the sweet fruits hanging from the old tree “Can I eat them” she smiled at me, a smile she wore like a mask to hide her true evil intentions. “Uhm… sure go ahead” I still couldn’t look her in the eyes, to big was the fear of what the older women might make me feel in the deepest pits of my stomach “Are you still in school sweetheart?”

“Do you want a bite bunny” She wiped over her mouth with the back of her hand as she reaches the other one out for me to take the peach. The forbidden fruit I shouldn’t dare to try but I was dying to do so. I took a bite, the juice dripping from the conners of my pinkish lips “It’s delicious isn’t it” her voice was softer trying to make me feel safe and secured in her presence. I fell for those feelings. I wanted her to make me feel safe and sound “It’s really sweet” I broke the awkward silence as Natasha got behind me, her veiny hands caressing my hips “You are gonna be a good girl for me right” she breathed against my ear making shivers run down my neck right to my core, making me feel a feeling that I had never experienced before. I hummed in response and I could feel my cheeks heating up. Her hands found their way future down, over my skirt right to the end of the fabric making that weird feeling inside me grow and grow. “I think I gotta go now” my voice came l more shaky then I had intended. Before Natasha could say anything I had already freed myself and ran off feeling as if I would melt if she had her hands on me a minute later. Leaving Natasha standing there utterly confused.

Sweat runs down my forehead as my hips keep rutting against the pillow between my legs like I was a bitch in heat. Soft whines and whimpers falling from my lips as I tried my best to make this feeling stop. Why did she have to make me feel that way? My hips got faster as I grew wetter and wetter and I felt my release coming in sight. I was in a trance only realizing how far gone I was when I moaned her name. I didn’t realize what I had done until I could hear the screeching noise of my door opening. I tried my best to cover my nude form with a blanket but it was to late. Natasha already had that smirk on her lips as she quietly closed the door behind her locking it “I’m so sorry- I- I” I tried to stutter something out “It’s okay bunny, you’re a girl with needs” she approached my bed with slow steps like a predator its prey “I can help you with your little need down there. Just say yes and I will make it all go away”

My eyes were still avoiding her tall form trying to hide my ever growing blush. I wanted her, I really did but could I do this with the friend of my father? “I want your help” my voice was still shaking. Natasha kicked off her leather shoes and crawled over to me taking my chin making me look at her. She kissed me passionately still hovering over my smaller form she pushed her tongue inside my mouth dancing with mine remained her dominance over me. Her wet kisses move down my neck searching for my sweet spot. She proceeded to nibble and softly biting at my skin. She strong hand pushed me back down onto my pastel pink sheets making sure I stay put. She sat up next to me unbuttoning her linen bluse revealing a red lacy bra “What do we have here uh?” She said in a teasing voice as she pulled the blanket from my exposed body her eyes landing on the wet patch on the pillow “You poor girl. All sticky and hot down there and nothing helps let me take care of you bunny” I nodded shamefully making her chuckle.

Her hands slipped over my stomach to my vulvar. Her hand finding its way to my erected clit pocking out of its hood. She began to rub over the slippery bundle of nerves making me yelp. Her fingers being a stark contrast to the rough fabric of my pillow who made my clit so sensitive . I could help but let out whimpers and whines buckling my hips only for them to be pressed down by the older woman “Na Na Na those stay down bunny” she said in a teasing voice. The older women had won all control over me, making me be at her mercy “‘M gonna eat that little pussy of yours. Let’s see if you are as sweet as a peach” she groaned as she got between my legs. She licked a bold strip from the end of my cunt right to my overstimulated clit. Swirling her tongue around it before sucking it. Making me scream. She immediately pulled away pressing her hands over my mouth “Be quiet for me bunny we don’t want your dad to find you here right? Whoring yourself out like the little slut you are” Her words weren’t hurtful, they were arousing me even more. I wanted to be her slut, her whore.

I nodded my eyes screwed shut as she kept licking and sucking at me making me see stars. The coil in my stomach grew and grew. Until Natasha bit down on my clit softly making me squirt all over her neck and chest. She chuckled lightly after helping me through my orgasms “Who would’ve thought my sweet bunny is a squirter” My checks redden and I look at Natasha my arousal still dripping from her chin to her chest “I- I didn’t mean to” She cleaned her mouth with the back of her hand “Oh sweetheart, don’t be sorry that was incredibly hot” she lightly caressed my lower stomach “Now lets get you cleaned up”

#black widow x female reader #natasha romanoff imagine #natasha romanoff x reader #natasha romanoff x you #black widow x reader #natasha romanoff smut #natasha x reader #natasha x you #natasha romanoff

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awearywritersworld · 7 months

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"i'll always come when you call"

gojo satoru x reader summary: when you're gravely injured on a mission, your best friend finds you just in time w/c: 1.35k tags/warnings: friends to lovers, obviously reader is hurt but nothing is terribly graphic, though there are lots of mentions of blood, hurt/comfort, fem!reader, no use of y/n, lots of emotional distress for gojo, he punches a wall, ft. a very worried yuuji and gumi a/n: home boy is in pieces at the thought of losing us. i make myself emotional masterlist check out my latest work for gojo here

it wasn't supposed to go like this. not hardly, not half.

a simple mission turned into an ambush. what was originally one mid-grade cursed spirit became several. you lost count somewhere around the fifth.

rain patters against your body, washing away the crimson that's seeping from numerous wounds. at first everything hurt, but now all you feel is a foreboding numbness spreading throughout your limbs.

you hardly remember slipping your phone from your pocket or dialing his number when you hear your best friend's voice ring out from the speaker. "hey, princess. how'd it go?"

you try to speak, but no sound comes out. eventually, you manage a choked cough and the faint sensation of liquid flowing from the corner of your mouth accompanies the effort.

you barely make out his worried tone calling your name before your phone clatters to the ground, screen going black as it lies in a puddle of pale red.

you fight to keep your eyes open, you really do, but you're incredibly drowsy and the coldness has begun to ebb away, replaced by a comforting warmness.

you always imagined the light that welcomes you into the afterlife would be a blinding white, but instead, it's a familiar shade of blue.

an unsettling feeling had made a home in the pit of gojo's stomach long before he received your call. he's pacing, his eyebrows furrowed with inexplicable worry when his ringtone fills the room.

relief floods through him once he sees your name on the screen, but it's short lived when your end of the line remains quiet. he hears you sputter and it isn't a second later that he teleports to the city where your assigned mission is.

his heart is hammering away, a dull thudding in his ears, as he follows the traces of cursed energy that grow stronger with each long stride. he covers ground impressively fast, though as soon as his eyes land on your body, it's as if everything shifts to slow motion.

it feels like he's fighting against an invisible force as he approaches the spot where you lay. he can hear someone howling your name and it's not until he feels the hoarseness in throat that he recognizes the voice as his own. his knees crash painfully into the pavement at your side.

the situation is worse than he could have imagined. it's looks like you, sure, but it can't be you. not when your eyes have just fluttered shut, no movement beneath your lids. not when your body is still, no steady rise and fall of your chest. and certainly not when it looks as if you're—

"wake up," he begs, shaking your shoulders. "please, wake up!"

not wasting another moment, he gathers your limp body in his arms, one arm behind curling around your shoulders, the other hooking behind your knees.

he teleports directly into the infirmary and shoko nearly scolds him before she takes in your dreadful state. the cigarette that was hanging between her lips falls to the floor. "get her on the bed."

she moves around the room in haste, pulling drawers and cabinets open wildly.

"she's going to be okay, right? tell me that she's going to be fine," he implores, panicking when the brunette fails to reassure him. "..shoko!"

"get out, satoru!" she barks. she can't concentrate, not while one of her oldest friends is hysterical with worry and the other is lying there half dead.

"please, i can't—"

"now!"

he stares at you for a moment before turning on his heel and retreating to the hall. his fist meets the wall with such force, the drywall crumbles to the floor. gojo himself follows suit soon thereafter.

the commotion catches the attention of yuuji and megumi, who round the corner just seconds later.

"sensei—" yuuji begins to question, but the words die in his throat.

gojo's crouched down, his face buried in his hands. they're still covered in your blood. he wants to scream and yell and curse the world, but instead, he clenches his jaw so fiercely it's a wonder his teeth don't crack under the pressure.

the boys share a look, both startled by the present state of their usually frivolous teacher. neither of them need to ask who's behind that door, they know there's only one person who could elicit such a reaction from gojo.

megumi approaches him cautiously, swallowing his own concern, and places a hand on his shoulder. "she'll be okay."

the white haired man doesn't look up, just nods weakly in acknowledgement. megumi joins yuuji who is already sitting on the floor with his back pressed to the wall, and the three of them wait together in silence.

gojo hardly moves until the infirmary door opens, which makes him rise so quickly it leaves him dizzy. shoko surveys the three of them before speaking.

"she's.. she's still unconscious, but you should be with her. she's been calling for you in her sleep—"

she scarcely finishes before gojo makes his way through the door. shoko stays in the hallway to update yuuji and megumi, giving the two of you a bit of privacy.

pulling up a chair beside you, he threads his fingers between yours, your skin still frightfully cool. though it's not until he hears you mumble his name that he truly falls apart.

his free hand flies to his mouth in an attempt to stifle his sobs, his shoulders shaking. this all could have gone very differently and the thought makes him sick to his stomach. he should have gone with you, or at the very least, he should have gotten to you faster.

"'toru?" your raspy voice fills his ears.

when he looks up to find you peering at him through tired eyes, the tension that'd been weighing heavily in his chest dissipates and he exhales deeply. still, his voice trembles. "hey, sweetheart."

every part of you aches, but it's nothing compared to the guilt you feel upon seeing gojo like this— his eyes red and swollen, your blood painted across his hands and face.

you have a vague memory of everything that happened. you remember just barely exorcising the last cursed spirit. you remember being sure you weren't going to survive and using your last bit of strength to call him. "you found me."

he nods, his hand squeezing yours. "i thought i was too late.. i.. i thought i'd lost you."

his voice cracks and it nearly shatters your heart, tears welling up in your eyes. "i'm so sorry, 'toru. i'm sorry i wasn't strong enough, t-that you had to come save me."

you attempt to sit up, but he puts a hand to your shoulder and shakes his head. "don't you dare apologize. i'll always come when you call and i'll always be there when you need me. you have to know that."

the intensity of his gaze forces you to look away and the conviction in his voice makes you feel woozy. thinking about it, there really never had been an instance in which gojo wasn't there for you. he's the person you've sought out time and time again and he's never once let you down.

his hand finds your face and he cups your cheek gently, his thumb wiping a tear from beneath your eye.

"i love you," you blurt out.

you stare at each other with wide eyes and the seconds tick by markedly until he finally whispers, "say it again."

"i love you."

he had no idea how much he needed to hear those three words fall from your lips until he nearly lost the chance forever. truthfully, it makes him feel a bit foolish, but now was hardly the time to dwell on that.

he smiles for the first time in hours, leaning forward to press a chaste kiss to your forehead. "i love you, too."

and he always has— he knows that now.

"you should get some rest, angel," he suggests tenderly. "i'll be right here when you wake up."

#m!writes #gojo #gojo x reader #gojo imagines #gojo satoru #gojo satoru x reader #gojo satoru imagines #jujutsu kaisen #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu kaisen imagines #jjk #jjk x reader #jjk imagines

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ang311ic · 12 days

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Post argument sex with Gaz

(Unedited, just wanted to write something after so long of having no ideas)

This man is stubborn, my baby doesn’t have many flaws (ignoring that he’s a war criminal) but he refuses admit he’s wrong. He also refuses to apologise because why would he apologise if he’s right? That’s a little harsh, he does end up apologising just with his dick instead.

The pair of you get in a stupid fight, something that was easily preventable but still ended up happening.

You’re pissed off with him, giving him the silent treatment and not even bothering to sleep in the same bed as him that night. You take your pillow and spend that night on the couch ignoring his protests.

You wake up to the feeling of someone’s lips against your neck and unless you have an insane stalker you weren’t aware of, it’s Kyle.

“What are you doing?” You mumbled groggily, not bothering to push him away in your sleep addled state. You don’t get a response instead you feel his calloused hand move down your stomach and slip under the band of your sweatpants. “Kyle-“

“Shhh. Let me make things better.” He murmurs and you’re unsure whether this is turning you on or making you want to slap him in the face. Your thought process was cut short when his fingers reached the soft cotton if your underwear, running them across your slit and making you gasp. You hated how good he made you feel but if there was one thing he was good at it was making you feel good.

“You like that?” He almost growled his face moving to rest against the crook of your neck, inhaling the intoxicating scent of you. His thumb moves to brush against your clit making your hips involuntary buck into his touch. “Getting so mad over nothing,” His tone so incredibly condensing, you can practically hear the smirk on his face. “Just need a good fuck to sort you out.”

“You’re an asshole.” You spit out though you don’t stop him when he pulls both of your pijamas off and slips your underwear to the side. His half-hard cock rubs against your pussy, collecting the slick over his head. “You don’t listen, you just brush me off, you’re never even here.” You rant though your words aren’t very effective, interrupted by harsh breaths of pleasure and stifled moans.

“I know, I know lovey.” He coos, almost sounding understanding and he was but you could discuss that later. He finally pushed his length inside you, groaning at the sensation of your tight velvety walls around him. His fingers find his way into your mouth, his index and middle slipping between your plump lips only allowing the sounds of your whines and moans to leave.

He fucks into you slowly, taking in every sensation. The feeling of your tongue against his fingers, the way you clench around him when he hits a spot that makes pleasure build in the pit of your stomach.

You had to remind yourself that you were mad but that was getting increasingly difficult with how he was making you feel. Your head fell back against his shoulder, a string of drool slipping down your chin and your chest rising and falling rapidly as your hips grinder against him to meet his thrusts. A mess. He’d turned you into a mess.

“You want to cum for me?” He asks like it was even a question to begin with. He removed his fingers from your mouth and rubbed his saliva drenched fingers against your clit once again, making you whine sharply in pleasure. “You want to feel good for me?”

��Y-yes,” you breathed out, trying to get your words out as quick as possible. “Please, please. I want it want it so bad.” You babbled, begging as of your life depended on it. The coil inside you felt like it was about to burst. You had forgot about the argument, had forgotten about your annoyance, you just wanted him, you wanted him to make you cum. With one more snap of his hips and circle of his index fingers, you break. You gush over his dick, unable to stop yourself from moaning his name loudly even if it was probably making him significantly more smug.

His hands tighten his hold one you. One arm wrapped around his waste and his other holding your jaw to keep you pressed up close against him. He helps you ride out your orgasm while also chasing his, pumping rapidly in and out of your fluttering cunt. “So good.” He praises, the words catching in his throat as his own pleasure builds. Even when the pair of you are arguing he always manages to let you cum first. “So, so fucking good for me.” He grunts as his load spills out into you, filling you up with his hot cum.

That night you feel asleep on the sofa with him still inside of you, snuggled close to each other. That morning Gaz wasn’t there, he was making coffee and when he arrived back to the living room he sat in the exact same place and discussed said argument. Communication!

#cod mw2 #call of duty #call of duty: modern warfare ii #cod mwii #kyle gaz garrick #kyle gaz garrick x reader #gaz nation #gaz x reader #kyle garrick #kyle gaz garrick smut

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rose-tinted-kalopsia · 2 months

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≡;-꒰ 𝐂𝐀𝐋𝐄𝐁 ꒱₊˚ ପ⊹ I 𝑻𝒓𝒆𝒂𝒄𝒉𝒆𝒓𝒐𝒖𝒔

╰┈➤ ❝ caleb x afab!reader | smut nsfw 18+ mdni

tags : fluff, angst, hurt/comfort, yearning, kissing, make up sex, soft sex that turns rough quite quickly, dom!caleb, vaginal sex, unprotected sex, creampie, dirty talk, praise, use of pet names "baby" "pipsqueak", lmk if i missed any tags !!

wc : 4.1k

Perhaps, yearning had a time and a place for everyone. But for the two of you, maybe it had gone on for longer than you could take, the slightest shift in the atmosphere ready to break that fragile little bubble of boundaries.

"If it were that easy to get a license, I wouldn't be here in your bed complaining, you know!" You scoffed, falling upon the soft mattress and dangling your feet off the edge. As Caleb laughed, easing into a spot beside you, you softened.

It had barely been a few days.

You'd get back from your exam, wrestling uncertainty with your results, and he was there—ready to listen, willing to offer a crying shouder if need be. You didn't cry, of course, only complained. But the mere presence of him by your side was enough to lull you out of your negativity, turning your talks into lighthearted moments for you to look back on and smile.

It happened often, with Caleb.

It was so easy to be with him, so easy to relax and just... be yourself, no questions asked, no image to uphold.

Ever since you were children.

It was just the kind of friendship you shared; the mutual trust, the mutual comfort. And you wouldn't have it any other way, except that...

Discreetly, you glanced at the figure beside you, Caleb also having gone silent, the both of you taking to stare outside the window of his room. He looked sentimental like this, almost, and pretty. The steadiness of his broad back... and the way you thought it would be nice, for once, to ruffle his hair instead of the other way around.

All familiar to you, all... cherished, by you.

"So... You'll be leaving again, huh?"

Your voice was casual, or at least—as casual as you could make it be. Yet, a certain apprehension settled into the pit of your stomach, and when he turned his head to face you, violet eyes glowing under the drifting moonlight, you felt yourself swallow thickly.

"Ah, well. You know the drill," he shrugged, a soft chuckle escaping his lips. Yet despite the playfulness in his tone, there was a gentleness in his eyes that made your heart churn. "My vacation ends, and I gotta be on my way first thing in the morning... Y'know. The usual."

You wished he wouldn't say it out loud, but you supposed you brought this upon yourself. You were the one that had asked, after all—yet you looked into his eyes, finding that you couldn't even bring yourself to look away, and there was nothing to stop the pout that slowly formed on your face. It was your turn to look away, almost as if refusing to look at him when you were like this.

"When will you be back again?"

He stayed quiet, for a while. If you looked at him, you would have noticed the little tilt of his head, the little smile on his face. But you could feel his eyes on you, and you wouldn't dare turn your head.

Caleb, after all, never missed an opportunity to poke fun at you.

"Aww, pipsqueak, are you that upset?"

You couldn't believe he would even question it.

Huffing, you glanced to the side, already noting the glint of mischief hidden in his eyes. "What, and you're not?" Your voice was sharp, but your retort lacking. Even Caleb knew that you were often more creative with your responses, and he had the audacity to laugh at your expense, almost delighting in the way you would puff your cheeks, indignance written all over you.

"D'you want me to be?" He grinned, leaning down to your height, searching your eyes. Always, you would think that his irrational penchant for being perceptive would be your downfall, and you knew this was no exception.

"...You're always so telling with your gaze."

Caleb shook his head, straightening himself only to reach out and ruffle your hair. It was just as he'd always done since you were children, and the gentle familiarity of it made you bow your head in resignation. "'Course I'm upset, pipsqueak," he sighed. "It's always hard to leave home, isn't it?"

His voice slowed to a pause, almost as if he could have continued, could have added to his words—but he didn't.

This time, it was your turn to be curious. If Caleb knew your reactions and your habits by heart, then you, too, could say the same about him. And sure enough, the more you studied him, even as he chuckled and turned his head away, the more you took note of something in his eyes that you couldn't quite find a name for.

Still, more than your curiosity, was your growing indignance at his words.

"...Is that it?" You mumbled, hands gripping at the fabric of your nightgown. "It's hard to leave... home. So it's not hard to—"

"Leave you? No, it is, pipsqueak. You are home."

His words caught you off-guard.

He wasn't looking at you when he said it—there was no trace of a blush on his cheeks, on his ears, anywhere—It almost made you doubt the seriousness of it, or why he would say something so... direct. Caleb wasn't usually expressive with you in this way; compliments, yes, but he'd never called you... home, before.

The word lingered weighty in the air.

But in the silence between you, and the more you thought of it, you couldn't help but dwell on the unfairness of it all. "Then—then—!" A frown formed on your face, watching as his eyes turned back to you when you spoke. "Then stay..."

It almost hurt you the way his eyes softened, teasing mirth replaced by a knowing gentleness. His hand edged closer to yours, body leaning ever-so-slightly towards you. "C'mon, pipsqueak... Y'know I can't do that..." he mumbled.

In slow, careful movements, his other hand reached to rest gently on your head, making you suddenly hyperaware of the way his fingernails would graze against the skin of your scalp, running through your hair in a sweet, tender stroke. He'd repeat the same motion, another silence weaving between the two of you, before his hand settled on the side of your face—the ghost of a touch, only barely feeling his palm press against your skin.

You held your breath.

"If I could," he said, "If I could. I'd be back here every week, spend every day with you like back when we were kids."

Feeling yourself slowly melt underneath the tenderness in his gaze, your shoulders relaxed, your grip on your clothing easing slightly. But still, your own eyes drifted to the ground.

Despite all your indignance, despite the terrible, terrible thought of having him go away from you again, you knew what he said was true. Caleb had always cared for you as much as you cared for him—it shouldn't come as a surprise to you that his absence hurt him equally as much, and that he would only put up a front for you, if only to be the solid foundation that he had always been for you, all these years up to this very moment.

Tears brimmed at your eyes, Caleb immediately shifting closer to place both of his hands by the side of your face, wiping them away with little swipes.

"Hey, now. Don't cry on me. You know I'll still be back on my next holidays!"

"But when?" You put in every effort to steady your voice, unwilling for it to waver in front of him, unwilling to let any more tears fall in the most obvious display of desperation for him that you've ever had. "How long will you be gone? Only to stay again for another week or so... Sometimes, you stay even less than a week. I've barely managed to have a proper conversation with you this time, and yet— yet—!"

You sniffled as your bleary eyes settled on his features, leaning into the comforting warmth of his hold. "Ugh," you scolded yourself, though there was no weight in the way that you did. "You... you make me feel like a little kid, Caleb. I'm not even supposed to be this selfish with you."

"Hmm. Aren't you? You've always been a little selfish with me, and if I'm honest, this isn't really too surprising." He chuckled again, and the playfulness in his eyes made a temporary return before he dared to step closer, inching towards your face. "But I don't mind, pipsqueak. 'Cause I miss you just as much, everytime I can't see you."

His words were warm. As warm as the way he looked at you, as warm as the way he held you.

As warm as...

Your breath hitched in your throat, and you, too, dared to step another line into something the two of you had never set foot in—almost closing the distance, almost giving in to the thoughts that probed your mind, almost—

You pressed your forehead against his, the both of you taking a moment to peek into new territory that had been brought out in the open. Your lips, now, were close enough to barely touch. You could see deeply into his eyes like this, too—the way golden flecks of light mixed with saturated, purple hues, and for the first time, you thought, you noticed... Caleb was a lot like the sunsets you would see on your way home.

"What's on your mind, pipsqueak?" He murmured softly, the rasp in his voice revealing to you just how much your actions had caught him off-guard, just how much he was straining not to step a toe out of line from whatever you wanted; whatever this was.

The tension in the air was unmistakable.

You could think; imagine, perhaps, his heartbeat was racing in his chest just as fast as yours was. Perhaps, you would be able to feel it for yourself, if his body was pressed up against yours...

You watched as his gaze drifted down towards your lips, and you flushed at the subtlest indication that he might have the same thoughts as you did.

"Caleb..." you whispered, placing your hand over his, tilting your head slightly to the side and holding him closer against your cheek. "When you're away, do you... Think of me?"

Silence; his eyes never strayed from yours, waiting, observing, attentive and careful to note how you would approach this situation.

"The way that you miss me... What is it like?"

A slow inhale, one hand moving to tuck your hair behind your ears.

"Hmm, well... Maybe it's exactly in the way you're thinking of, right now."

"And... What would that be?"

"...Dunno, pipsqueak. What would it be?"

You smiled, seeing the flicker of a challenge in his eyes, but recognizing there to be equal parts of caution, still watching, waiting, waiting for you to make your move.

"Would you stop me?" You said finally, slowly draping your arm over his shoulder. "If I moved a little closer now, and then we'd..."

It was your turn to glance at his lips, so close to you, yet so far, almost blurry and out of focus with your proximity. You could feel his steady breaths against your face, and he didn't answer you. Instead, he took your words as his own confirmation, breaking the boundary, tilting his head as he captured your lips into a soft, gentle kiss.

He moved his lips slowly against yours, hands trailing down your face, down your back, settling on your waist—and then he pulled away, half-lidded eyes examining you closely. One beat, two—Caleb pushed you gently against the sheets, pressing close and flush against your body, his heartbeat racing in time with yours just as you had hoped it to.

"You... mean this, pipsqueak?" He breathed.

"...Do I lie that often to you? The reason I miss you so much, the reason I so badly want you to stay... Did you think it was because of whatever childish attachment I've had to you from the start?"

He nearly scoffed.

"Oh, what. And you're gonna call me oblivious? Like I don't see the way you look at me? Like I don't see the way you melt?"

This time you gasped, and a smirk played at his lips—his lips, ones that had kissed you just seconds prior. "You—! That's—!"

"I've known aaallll along, pipsqueak. But you've never had plans on acting on your feelings, right? So I'm just asking, 'cause... I don't want you to regret what we're doing."

Though feeling the weight of embarrassment begin to swirl in your stomach, your eyes softened.

Ah, you thought, he's always so considerate.

"What..." You searched his eyes, "What are we doing? What is this, then?"

"...You could think of it as me making it up to you..." Caleb spoke slowly. "Well, whatever this is, I could kiss you here for hours—easy."

You felt the heat rise back up to your cheeks—

"—Oorr..." He smiled, tucking another strand of hair behind your ear. "If you want a more detailed memory to keep you company while I'm gone, I could do even more than that. But your call, of course."

Immediately you understood what he was implying, and the mere thought of it turned you completely red in the face, pushing him away with a gasp.

"Caleb!" You cried out, and beside you, he laughed.

"Guess that's a no, then? Ah, well. No biggie, I could wait another few months or so. C'mere, and I'll—"

"N-no! I... I didn't mean it like that."

You cut him off quickly, chewing on the inside of your lip, and he raised an eyebrow.

"No? So what'd you mean, then?" Caleb reached out his hand for you to take, gently tracing his fingers over the skin of your palm.

"I... I'm up for it," you said, after a moment. "I mean... I don't mind. If you... If you wanna—do—what you were—"

You couldn't complete your sentence, and he squeezed your hand, another chuckle escaping his lips. "You would, huh? Have sex with me?"

His blatant admission had you burning, immediately pulling away once more to cover your face. "God, Caleb! Don't just say it like that!"

"Hey! I gotta be sure, don't I? Who knows if we were thinking different things?"

"But—! If you say it out loud, it sounds...! Embarrassing!"

"What, that I want to have sex with you?"

You could hear the infuriating melody of amusement in his voice, clearly pleased at your flustered reaction, clearly enjoying this mental torture on you like he always did.

"Caleb..." You whined at the sound of his laughter, peeking through your fingers just enough to let him see your pout.

"Alright, alright! I'll stop!" He grinned. "...But seriously, though. It doesn't matter too much that I've been waiting, I can wait a little longer if you're not ready yet. 'Cause honestly? I'm just happy enough like this already."

Like... This?

Your mind drifted to his kiss, his soft, plush lips mingling with your own. It had lasted barely a few seconds, but even the mere thought of it made you weak. The mere thought of holding him—doing more—having him love you, tender as always, in ways that he had never before. You'd fantasized about it, sure. Undeniably. Sometimes you would sit in one of his hoodies, flushing at his scent and the way that you could easily reach down to touch yourself in it—

You never did, out of the mere fear that you would never be able to look him in the eyes if you did.

But now, his own feelings, his own desires, lay just within your reach. No matter how scary it was to dive into such a foreign, indiscernible place of your relationship... You've never had him closer to you, and you didn't want to let go of that feeling.

So with a shy gaze, you closed the gap between the both of you once more, kissing at his neck and feeling each shudder of his body zap straight down to your core. "It's okay," you mumbled, "I think... I'd rather not wait, either."

In a flurry of movements, you were back against his pillows, his body above you and arms and legs tangled in a passionate embrace. Unlike earlier, each kiss upon your lips had you gasping your air—almost starved as he mouthed at you, almost desperate to explore every curve of your skin in a way you didn't know he ever could be.

"Unbelievable," he breathed, panting as he pulled away, fingers slowly gliding beneath your nightgown, tracing circles over your stomach. "I'm actually, actually touching you like this."

"Unbelievable?" You scoffed, turning your head to the side. "I should be the one saying that. Having you touch me like this..."

He smiled. And then slowly, his hands traveled up your skin, bunching the silken fabric of your nightwear up and above your breasts. You saw him draw in a shaky breath, a tremble in the way he stroked your skin—"Oh, fuck," he whispered, and it sent a shiver down your spine. "Seriously, it's like a miracle, shit..."

"...Caleb, are you going to just tease?" You frowned, feeling vulnerable in the way he stared. Your body remained mostly exposed, revealed to him in a way that had him frozen with having never seen you so naked before.

But Caleb licked his lips, feeling them dry at the mere sight of you.

"Oh, baby, I wish."

There was a raspiness in his voice as he moved to yank down his sweatpants, chest heaving in the way he tried so hard to control his breaths.

Baby, he called you, and you could have sworn you let out a whine, the new nickname striking a chord inside of you more than you ever expected it to.

"I— shit. I really wanna take my time with you... Give you a whole experience you can think of 'til I get back, but you—"

A sense of urgency overtook him, and his hands were back on you, tracing your thighs, trailing up to press at your panties and nearly groaning at the patch of wetness he could feel.

You drew in a sharp breath.

"...Damn. It looks like I won't be able to keep my composure, not when I've thought about this moment for as long as I can remember."

His hand was pulling your underwear down within seconds, leaving your lower halves bare and exposed. The tip of his cock was wet with pre-cum, the sheer length of it having you momentarily speechless.

"W-wait, you're not—?!" A hint of panic rose in your voice as you sat up against the headboard, but he gently pushed you back down, towering over you.

"It'll fit," he spoke, matter-of-factly, reaching down to swipe at your cunt before bringing his hand up to your face. That smirk was there again, the tease in his eyes ever-present despite his promise not to leave you feeling unfair for too long. "You're crazy wet, pipsqueak. I think I'll slide in just fine."

His words brought a dangerous sting to your cheeks, feeling yourself clench around nothing, eyeing the slick that coated his fingers from a single swipe.

If, you thought, if he had those fingers inside of me, I wonder how deeply he would reach...

He leaned down to kiss you, almost as if reading your thoughts. "Not now," he murmured. "Maybe later. Maybe next time, when I get back."

You frowned. "Don't... don't talk about leaving when we're like this..."

"Baby—"

"No, Caleb. If I'm going to remember this moment, I am not going to think of it as the night before you go away again!"

Amusement flashed through his eyes, and the tip of his cock brushed lightly against your entrance, coating your clit with your wetness.

"Alright, I digress," he grinned. "But it's not an if, right? You will remember—and then you can busy yourself with the feeling of it whenever you need to. It's the whole point."

"...Busy myself?! What do you think you're—"

Your words were lost into a gaping moan, feeling his cock stretch at your walls, heat and pleasure coarsing through your veins in sharp, quick bursts.

"Fuuuuckkkk." He groaned from the throat, your hazy eyes making out the way he grit his teeth, his own eyes shut tightly as he pushed into you, all the way up to your hilt, gripping the headboard in ragged pants. "So..." he breathed, "So damn tight."

"Y-you're just—ngh—so big—"

It was almost as if he were intent on rendering you utterly speechless, barely giving you time to time to adjust before he was snapping his hips into yours. Every movement had him filling you up, thrusting into you balls deep, hips moving quickly, rhythmically, splitting you open with ease.

"W-Wai—iit— a-aahh—" Your back arched in raw pleasure, submitting to every ounce of desire that poured out of him. "Shit!" You cursed, head thrown back into his pillow. "So fast—Y-you're so fast—"

He only let out a hum of a moan in response, eyes finally opening, hands shifting to grab onto yours and pin them right up above your head.

"Oh, fuck— Caleb—!"

"Good," he rasped. "So wet, so tight, so—haah—so good—"

You clamp down tightly around him, greedily sucking his length in with the steady pulse of your cunt, moans breaking, body squirming under his grasp and the lustful heat of his gaze.

"Oh, god—sorry, baby, I can't—" Caleb's pace seemed to stutter with the way you clenched around him, pounding into you more erratically, cockhead hitting the spot that had you jolting. "You're too perfect, you're exactly how i've imagined—"

Whimpers began to fall from your lips as you struggled to wring your hands free from his grasp, desperate to touch him, desperate to feel him closer. And Caleb remained attentive despite his obvious euphoria, releasing your hands and leaning down close to you, grunts with every pump of his cock, almost needy for your heat.

The feeling was too much.

He was fucking you, and you couldn't think straight—you'd opened your mouth, and before you could stop yourself, you were spilling his name in ways you wouldn't have done otherwise.

"I love you, Caleb, I love you, I love you, I love y—nnh—leb— haah— I love you, Caleb—!"

It didn't take long after that for him to twitch in your cunt, and your walls fluttered around him, locking him in place as he stilled, spilling inside of you enough to have you leaking. It was enough to edge out a release of your own, and you trembled in his embrace, bodies locked in perpetual ecstasy.

And he was right, you would remember it.

Every slide of his cock against your walls, you'd remember it—and, with a pang, you realized... you'd long for it.

"...You're so cruel," you whispered as he leaned down to kiss at your jawline, slowly pulling out of you and collapsing beside you with a sigh.

"Hmm, wow. First, an I love you without warning, and now I'm the cruel one?" He laughed softly beside you. "Was I too hard? Sorry, pipsqueak, you're much too—"

"I love you, Caleb." Your mind much clearer after your high, you repeated your words, albeit shy enough to still turn over and snuggle into his chest. "Just... how am I supposed to miss you like this?"

He reached over to put his arm around you, stroking your hair lovingly. "...Miss me...?" he spoke slowly, almost as if choosing his words with care. "It won't be for too long, pipsqueak, swear."

"But you don't even—"

He clicked his tongue, cutting you off. "I mean, that's partly why we fucked, right? It should keep you busy enough while we wait. Now you have something more accurate to touch yourself to, and, hey—I wouldn't stop you!"

You had indeed come to a similar conclusion, but hearing him say it out loud like that had you looking up with a halfhearted glare.

"...Caleb, you're filthy!" You huffed.

But you both knew well that your words didn't amount to much, and he chuckled, poking your temple.

"Okay, okay. How about... Just to make sure you won't be too sad, we can have another round in the morning?"

"Caleb!"

He smiled. "...I love you, too, pipsqueak."

The warmth of his words, blending in with his familiar, most precious nickname for you, had you easily forgetting whatever trepidations you had in your heart. Maybe, you thought, whatever came with this new door in your relationship was worth it—especially if you could be in his arms the way you were now, listening closely to the lull of his heartbeat.

『 I can't decide if it's a choice getting swept away; I hear the sound of my own voice asking you to stay. 』

⁺₊ / an: ouh this req prompt couldve gone soooooo many ways and it was so hard to decide!! the word count proves i love him almost as much as xavier, but i also owe it to caleb x mc being so "treacherous" by taylor swift coded, and i will die on this hill!!!!!!

© rose-tinted-kalopsia. all rights reserved. do not: steal, copy, repost, reupload, modify, or claim any of my works as your own, regardless of credit given. absolutely do not use my works for AI training and other related purposes.

#love and deepspace #love & deepspace #love and deepspace smut #love & deepspace smut #love and deepspace caleb #love & deepspace caleb #love and deepspace x reader #love & deepspace x reader #caleb x reader #caleb x you #ʚɞ*.ﾟ. lnds #✿˖°. roxiefic #divider by mikeykuns #divider by cafekitsune #*ੈ♡. rose garden

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caraphernellie · 2 months

Note

can u write ellie with dacryphillia

absolutely. i might be a little obsessed with dacryphilia m sorry (not) and i swear ellie would LOVE to see it. she would go crazy. also my first time posting smut with a strap somehow i haven't posted any yet. now bare with me ok. this was also kind of inspired by a video i saw on twitter that was like... sorta ellie coded. (anything involving a grey hoodie makes me think of her now) (oops)

cw: softdom! ellie at the start, mean dom! ellie, sub! brat! reader, kind of shy! reader, strap on sex (r!receiving), riding, missionary, rough sex, dacryphilia obvs, degrading, strap referred to as cock and dick, nicknames such as good girl, baby, babe, slut, straight up porn without plot xx

info: ok so... you know me. biggest softdom ellie truther. at least for jackson ellie. now i raise you: softdom ellie who has a gf in a bratty mood and she's starting to get annoyed by letting you have your way too often... so she basically jackhammers u until u get the point! she's in charge here <3

・wc: 1.2k

“kay, faster now.”

ellie’s order falls on deaf ears for the millionth time and she’s starting to reach a limit. she has been for some time now. she’s too soft, and who could blame her? her brain turns to mush the minute she’s got you this way.

dazzling green eyes focusing in on the way your body moves, the rippling of skin and contortions of your belly. her hands find home on the spaces between your ribs and your hips, thumbs rubbing circles as you bounce on her strap.

“hey,” ellie tries her best with you, putting on a stern tone now, and her hand weakly slaps one of your tits. she bites back a smirk of pride at your jolt. “do you hear me?”

you definitely do. but hearing isn’t the same as listening or even caring. not when the rhythmic circles your hips are moving in are scratching that itch so good. it’s satisfying the pit of warm need in your stomach that’s been waiting all day. the pit you begged and begged ellie to help you out with.

it’s how you ended up here, ellie still half dressed in her grey pullover and you on her lap with nothing but an unzipped hoodie on.

“aww, i thought you said you were desperate, baby,” ellie continues, “what’s this?”

a shiver runs down your spine, ellie’s hand moving over the expanse of skin on your stomach and squeezing your tit. she’s on two trains of thought, distracted by the way the soft ball of flesh fits in her hand, and trying to keep you in line. because what ellie can feel is her power slipping out of her grip no matter how hard she squeezes your body under her palms.

“so you’re not even gonna talk to me?”

a fire ignites in ellie when you move slower, rolling your hips down onto her cock, the depth eliciting a drawn out and long moan from you.

“god, can you not be fuckin’ stupid for two seconds?” ellie asks, never genuine when she gets like this albeit it’s a rare occurrence for sure. she starts to buck her hips upward, fucking into you while forcing you to change your pace – her hands grip meaty thighs and begin bouncing you up and down. she revels in the way you mewl a little louder, the sight of your tits bouncing.

“like this. don’t let me tell you twice, baby. i mean it.” voice strained from the effort of her movements, ellie grunts and finally releases you. “you said you were desperate, so we’re making this quick, and i don’t wanna hear any complaints.”

i’m too nice to you sometimes, ellie thinks to herself. but she believes it pays off. she lives for the control, but she’s a more gentle lover. normally it’s enough to get you to listen just like it has right now, with you continuing at the pace she set. she watches with a satisfied smirk, her thumb reaching down languidly to flick at your clit.

“there she is, good girl.”

sometimes (most of the time), ellie gives in. she lets you do as you please. she never gets to hear you beg because she’s so weak for you, so eager to make her girl feel good, that she will give you exactly what you need when you ask. she will give up on trying to reign you in and do what she wants you to, only because the sight you are is already so convincing that ellie doesn’t mind. anything to see it, the furrow in your brows, your eyes rolling back. anything to see a happy, fucked out expression on your face.

so it’s no surprise ellie’s seeing a rise in bratty behaviour, she enables it. she shouldn’t complain, but she will anyway. it’s her fault and damn, she needs to do something about it before it gets worse. she’s had a busy week and doesn’t need this. because ellie hates her authority to be challenged by one of the only people she even has authority over.

the fade of ellie’s smirk comes with the fade of speed. she hears the sweetest giggle escape your lips and she knows you’re treating this like some kind of joke now and she can’t have that.

“we’re not doing this again, babe.” ellie’s voice is a low rasp by this point, the slightest bit of amusement present. what you expect might be another spank to the thigh before she inevitably gives in to you, but that’s not what comes your way.

this time it’s ellie chuckling. you yelp loudly as she flips you onto your back. she’s on top now, wasting no time, and she slides into you again.

everything happens too fast for you to fully process it, but she’s pounding into you now. the sounds of skin slapping, the squelching of ellie’s thrusts into your poor cunt, and your nonstop moans – it’s filthy. ellie can’t stop it now, grunts of effort made as she hooks your legs around her waist. if she didn’t know any better, she’d make some point about being able to see her cock poking and bulging out of your tummy, her thrusts deep and carnal.

hands balling the sleeves of your jacket into paws, you hide behind them, finding this to be one of the most intimate and closest experiences you’ve had. ellie’s caging your head between her arms, lip drawn between her teeth, eyes piercing down at you. she takes grip of your wrists and pins them down, laughing at you. “yeah, look at me, baby. look… who’s making you feel this good? who owns you?”

your eyes grow half-lidded and ellie’s face becomes a blur, tears clouding your vision whilst all you can do is halfheartedly moan her name in response.

“poor baby,” ellie mocks, her voice a hoarse coo, as soft as she can manage. it’s a harsh comparison to the reckless power of her hips. as long as you will sing your pleasure to her, she won’t stop. “i thought you wanted it so bad, you wanted my dick so bad, so what’s your deal?”

“mm… n- noth–” you try, you try to speak, but things are getting fuzzy. there’s nothing to occupy your busy mind besides her. ellie, ellie, ellie.

you’re brought out of the fuzziness for a moment when ellie cups your face to wipe a tear off your cheek.

“you just needed me to do all the work for you, huh? so you can lay there cryin’ ‘cuz it just feels that good to get fucked like this?”

all you do is nod, pitiful moans and whimpers flooding ellie’s senses, egging her on just as much as the sight of her strap covered in your essence does.

“i try so hard to be nice to you, baby, feels like you just–” ellie takes one particularly hard thrust into your sopping cunt, “--take advantage of that like a slut…”

“m’sorry,” you squeak, hands wrapping around her shoulders, pulling her closer, closer, closer, nails digging into her back and eliciting a hiss. she’s getting sloppier now, tired and finding that the base of the strap is pressing too well into her clit, making her near delirious, like it’s her real dick she’s fucking you with.

“who’s in charge?” ellie demands to know, glaring down at you but with no malice, there’s nothing but lust and amazement as hot tears streak your cheeks. “who are you gonna obey next time?”

“you.”

“who?”

“ellie, ellie, ellie ellie ellie.”

“that’s right,” ellie scoffs with a nod. “good girl.”

shes so pretty and i need her really bad and um um um um

566 notes · View notes

joyoushyuck · 2 months

Text

requested

00:56

Your hand is raised in front of the door, about to knock, when the door clicks open on its own. Donghyuck doesn't seem surprised by your presence; his expression is morphed into one of indifference. He is wearing his glasses and that white Celine shirt he loves to wear on special occasions. His long hair curls at his nape, a few curly strands beautifully swaying at the front. You would call him gorgeous if it wasn't for the pressing situation at hand. He walks past you into the kitchen and extracts a water bottle from the fridge. You flinch when he slams the door shut.

“Donghyuck,” you try. He chugs the water down, ignoring you. “Donghyuck list-”

A thud, water on your feet and a gasp leaving your mouth, and Donghyuck storms past you back into the bedroom. The blue baby shark bottle lays a few inches away from your legs with a broken hinge and a crack near the top.

You bite your lips in an attempt to keep your tears at bay. You brought this on yourself, you have no right to cry. If forgetting your anniversary was not enough of a fault, you went on to blame it on your workload and blame him for being upset. Not your smartest move.

Dejected, you walk back to the couch and lay down. You haven't slept properly in ages, you really were preoccupied with an important project at work, but even that isn't a good reason to stop doing the bare minimum. Donghyuck's anger is justified.

You don't have a blanket; no amount of hugging yourself provides you the warmth that Donghyuck’s body exudes. The pit of your stomach feels hollow with dread; the guilt weighs you down and threatens to swallow your being. After an hour of twisting and turning, you give up on the idea of sleep. There's no way you can sleep peacefully without resolving this conflict. Your throat constricts and heart sinks at the prospect of Donghyuck ending this relationship for his own good.

So you walk up to the door resolutely. If Donghyuck continues to give you the silent treatment, you know your resolve will take a hit pretty soon. However, doing something to show that you care is better than doing nothing.

“Hyuck,” you start, only to hear your voice crack. It pains you as much as it pains him to have landed in such a predicament. “I'm sorry, Donghyuck, it's my fault. Please, just open the door.”

You are met with silence. Did he fall asleep already? It seemed unlikely but you couldn't rule out the possibility.

“Hyuck, are you awake? Baby? Just please answer me.”

Still no response. But then, something drops, and you hear the old bed squeak, his feet shuffle and the spring in your mattress dip. So he's awake.

“Donghyuck, love, please talk to me.” You cringe at the desperation in your own voice. “I am sorry, I know I fucked up Hyuck. Shout at me, hit me, just-”

You clutch your hair, your back sliding against the door and butt hitting the cold floor. A shiver runs down your spine. Was it winter already?

“Just don't be quiet, please.”

You bury your face in your hands in a last ditch attempt to keep the sobs under control. It didn't seem to be working in your favour. The stress at work seems to be finally catching upto you as well. Donghyuck needs space. He doesn't need you annoying him now when all this could have been prevented had you been more mindful of your actions. You accept your fate and curl into a bundle, deciding to give it a rest for now.

That's how Donghyuck finds you a few hour laters.

You are hugging your knees close to your chest, head resting uncomfortably on the hard floor. When he takes a closer look, he can see the dried streak of tears on your cheek. You are trembling, and he realises you haven't even switched the heater on. Something in him breaks at the sight of you like this.

“Hey, baby,” he gently taps your cheek to wake you up. “Baby, you can't sleep here, come in.”

You make a little noise. He is met with the uncontrollable urge to coo at you, but stops himself given the situation.

“Wake up doll,” he tries again. “You are going to have a terrible back pain at this rate.”

You blink your eyes open sluggishly after a few moments. Donghyuck isn't wearing his glasses anymore and his hair is mussed up. “Hyuck?” You ask, your sleep muddled brain still not catching up. “Is everything alright?”

Donghyuck sighs, his fingers gently caressing your cheek. He loved you too much to stay mad at you for long, no matter what you did.

“Come sleep on the bed baby. We'll talk about the rest in the morning. Come in now.”

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whoxeology · 2 months

Text

⛧☾༺♰ CABIN FUN ♰༻☽⛧

WARNINGS: NFSW 18+, use of pet name; bunny, smut, Oral (F receiving) very much so not canonically accurate, not proofread, bit of Perv!Luke at the end.

W.C: 2.1k

A/N: I have not read the books only knowledge I have of PJO is from the movies, TV series, and multiple fics I have read. With that being said this is purely for fun. You are more than welcome to disagree and leave feedback.

BASED OFF OF THIS REQUEST

A/N: I feel like this is so off from the request but I feel like corruption kinks are often written to make the reader similar to the young, which I did not want to be how I wrote it so I give you whatever this is

ALSO THIS IS MY FIRST TIME WRITING SMUT SO PLEASE BE KIND, MDNI, AND FEEDBACK IS ALWAYS WELCOME

"Hey Lukey," You said as you heard your cabin door open. You knew it was him he was the only one to enter the cabin at this time which also happened to be when your cabinmates left to sneak out of camp. He always came in asking to borrow something from you sometimes it was tweezers for Annabeth or his shield that he let you borrow. "What did you need now," you asked slightly giggling.

"Uh actually nothing I just wanted to see you," Luke said as he looked at you his hands fidgeting with them nervously. He was dressed in his typical cargo pants and orange camp tee looking overdressed compared to your crop top and sleeping shorts.

"Really? Why?" You tilt your head to the side confusion written across your face. You and Luke obviously were friends you guys just weren't as close as the rest of the group. Mainly due to your huge crush on Luke making you act like a hermit when it's just you and him alone.

"I wanted to talk to you about something," he said sitting on your bed and patting the spot next to him for you to sit on.

"Oh, about what?" you said going to sit next to him as soon as he asked you to. His cold hand finds a way onto your exposed knee the cold rings sending a shiver up your spine that Luke did not miss.

You were thoughtless at the feel of his calloused hands on your smooth skin. Eyes glued on his hand as his thumb rubbed the top of your knee. "Annabeth might've let slip that you have a crush on me." He said head tilted to the side to see your face better really wanting to see your reaction. As soon as those words left his mouth your jaw dropped a soft gasp leaving your plump lips. A pit formed in your stomach as you continued to stare at his hand scared to make eye contact with him. Tears formed in your eyes you knew why he was being so touchy now he was going to reject you it all made sense now.

"Hey bunny look at me," He said his other hand coming up from his side to grab your chin, making you look at him. His puppy dog eyes met your wet ones, making more tears fall decorating your pretty face. Luke would never tell another living soul this but he liked seeing you cry, to know he was the cause of it and not some other punk in camp.

"Luke I am so sorr-."

The start of your ramble was cut short by Luke's lips smashing into yours. He could taste the saltiness from your tears on your lips making him kiss you harder. Once the shock faded from you you kissed him back just as hard. The kiss started as hunger but was now growing into desperation and need. The hand that was once on top of your knee slipped under it to help you climb onto his lap. He needs you closer to him, his hand slipping from your chin to the back of your neck pulling you close into the kiss.

His back is flat against your bed as you lean over him, grinding yourself into him. You can feel all of him under you, his bulge rubbing against your core with every move.

"Luke wait," you mumble into his lips pulling away slightly to look him in the face.

Luke gave a low hum in response, his hips slightly bucking up against yours, his cock throbbing inside of his pants. His hands rested on your hips now guiding you in a swaying motion on him.

"I've never done this before." You say breathlessly still moving your hips against his, the feeling sending butterflies into the lower pits of your stomach. The feeling of his dick twitching against you made a gasp slip past your lips.

"Oh bunny," He says in a whining voice. He suddenly flips you over so that you are now under him. You are now flat on your back as he lays between your legs, his bulge more prominent against his cargo pants. "Im going to make you feel real good baby, do you trust me?'"

In the moment all you can do is nod your head frantically, feeling his against you with such pressure making you need him more. He dipped his head into the crook of your neck placing light kisses under your ear.

"I need you to use your words bunny," he whispers into your ear, pulling a breathy whine from you.

"Please," you say tilting your head to the side to give him more space. He kissed down your neck until he got to a soft spot on your jugular that made you whine. He smirked into your neck before suckling at the spot, the dark purple mark forming on your skin. "You look so pretty under me," He mumbles into your neck as he continues to leave marks all over your neck.

His slightly chapped lips went from your neck to your chest, drawing whines from you. One of his hands trailed up your hips tickling your side as he went under your crop top, his cold hands sending shivers down your spine. He pulled your top over your chest, the cool air making your bare nipples pebble. Feeling exposed at the sudden attention on your boobs your hands go to cover them, Luke's other hand came up pinning your own hand to the side of your head.

"Don't hide yourself from me bunny," He groaned into your chest, attaching his lips to one of your nipples. The sudden warmth of his mouth and the swirl of his tongue draw moans from your mouth. He does the same to your other boob, before moving lower. His hot mouth trailed kisses from your breast to the top of your shorts, you a withering mess under him the whole time his kisses setting your skin on fire. He sat back onto his knees before pulling you by yours to the edge of the bed, a yelp escaping you from the sudden roughness. His hands impatiently made their way under your hips, pulling down your sleeping shorts with such determination it made you moan.

"god am I going to be the first to see your pretty pussy," He said in a teasing tone, thumb lightly rubbing over your clit through your underwear. "Hmm, all this for me pretty girl."

"Yes Luke all for you," you whine hips bucking against his hand, need more desperately. Luke sped his pace up his thumb rubbing your clit in tighter circles, your core clenched on nothing the butterflies in your lower stomach fluttering around even more.

Luke moved his thumb and hooked his fingers on the side of your underwear, asking you to pick your hips up to make the process easier. A low moan emitted from the back of Luke's throat when he finally saw your pussy and she was indeed pretty. He couldn't hold back you were so wet and ready for him. Wasting no time he wrapped his arms around your legs and shoved his face straight into your cunt, tongue parting your folds and his lips attaching to your clit sucking on the bud.

"Fuck Luke," You arch your back in an unexpecting manner not expecting him to basically throw himself in between your thighs. Your hands immediately flew to his brown curls, wrapping your fingers messily in his hair.

Luke's tongue fucked your tight cunt lapping up your juices while the tip of his straight nose rubbed against your clit, his hand trailing up to massage your breast the callouses adding to the pleasure. The sound coming from your glossy pink lips made Luke press harder onto your pussy, hands shaking as you ran them through Lukes’s curly hair

“Feels good bunny?” he mumbles lips going back to your clit as his fingers ghosted over the tops of your thigh, so close to your aching hole.

“So good lukey” you whine hips bucking up desperately trying to relieve the aggressive butterflies from your belly. Tears started to pool in your eyes you didn’t know what to ask for but knew you needed it now. "Please please plea-." “Shhh pretty girl,” Luke chuckled before pulling himself up from in between your legs, his middle finger slipping into your cunt as he kissed you, swallowing your moans. His long fingers find your spongy part, curling his fingers to hit that spot over and over again your backing arching up painfully in pleasure.

" I got you bunny," Luke mumbled his ring finger pushing in beside his middle, you groaned out at the sudden feeling of fullness. He leaned his body onto yours, the feeling of his rough clothing on your soft skin driving you up the walls.

He pumped his fingers in a come hither motion hitting your walls clenching down on his fingers, his lips roughly finding their home on yours. Your stomach tightened as his fingers pumped faster, the once feeling of butterflies turning into a tightening ache deep in your stomach. Feeling wetter and looser than before he managed to slip in his pointer finger, the fullness returning some more with each finger he added.

"Luke my stomach feels funny is that norm-"

"You can take it bunny," he said cutting your question off while leaning his forehead against yours, his breathing much tamer compared to your high-pitched whines and moans. "it'll be worth it," he adds leaving knowing exactly how your feeling, he placed smaller hickeys across your boobs, fingers pumping at a much rougher pace now.

The high-pitched moans that fell from your plump lips were borderline sinful and pornographic, Luke's dick twitching at every sound you made. Your hips bucked into his palm as he continued to finger you drawing you to the brink of cumming.

"OH MY GOD." You shouted as you felt the pressure in your stomach replaced with a dropping feeling, the feeling making your thighs shake as you tried to close your legs around Luke's hand the feeling of his fingers still pumping making you shake more. Overstimulated and exhausted you push at Luke's hand, he pumps his fingers a few more times before pulling them out. The sudden loss of his fingers pulls a whine from you, suddenly feeling empty as your juices flow out your cunt.

"No god just me," Luke's stupid grin spread across his face as he licked your juices off his fingers, getting closer to you he kissed your forehead before getting up to grab a towel from the restroom.

You laughed so hard you felt more cum gush out from you your fits of laughter suddenly cut short, and you laid still on your bed waiting for Luke scared of making a bigger mess on your bed. Luke had come back to see you stiff as a board and started his stupid laughter up again. He leaned over you helping you lift your leg up as he gently used the hand towel to clean you up, you shuddered at the towel going over your sensitive clit. Luke had thrown the towel in your hamper and gotten you new underwear and a shirt for you to change into, your heart swelling with love as you looked at him he looked so domesticated.

"What about you," You say as you slip your clothes on, obviously referring to his bulge, which is still very noticeable.

"Don't worry about me, I got it," He said winking at me as he changed the sheet on your bed, moving at a speed that left you baffled not even you moved that efficiently when it came to changing sheets. After he finished making your bed he had you crawl in so that he could tuck you in.

"You're leaving?" you say sadness in your voice, a weird feeling settling in your chest. "Not my choice bunny if I stay I'm going to end up balls deep in you then you're roommates might walk in and that's a whole other issue I'm not ready to solve," He laughed to himself as a dark blush cover your cheeks, he kissed you deeply his large hand resting on your check almost covering your whole face.

"I'll see you tomorrow?" Your question voice came out in a whine, your hand was over his not wanting him to let go yet.

"I'll see you tomorrow bunny," he said kissing you again before finally getting up to leave.

Quickly succumbing to your sleepiness you were fast asleep a few minutes after Luke had left, unbeknown to you your soiled panties left along with him. His extremely late shower took extra long as he pictured your moans in his ears as he got off in his fist panties wrapped tightly in hand.

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reiderwriter · 3 months

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My Love Is Mine All Mine

Week 2 of my Playlist series 🎧💕

Summary: Spencer Reid always liked broken things, but you didn't think you could be fixed. Maybe all you needed was understanding and companionship.

Warnings: slight angst, case details mentioned - misogyny, kidnapping, etc, but no graphic/ explicit details. Hurt/Comfort.

A/N: Tumblr, please let me post haha I've been good, I promise 🙏 This fic is so late because I've been having some technical issues with tumblr and it has greatly annoyed me, so hopefully if you're seeing this it's been fixed? Who knows... Thank you to everyone who has sent in songs so far for the Playlist series, I'll be cresting the playlist today and posting it for everyone to see and use!

Masterlist || Series Playlist

Falling for Spencer Reid wasn't in your plan for the new year, but looking back, it was probably something that was just bound to happen.

He'd been the first person to show you any kindness after everything you went through, the first person who hadn't put their own rigid horror at your past before their attempts at sympathy.

You watched the way people recoiled from you as you told them - bluntly, you had to be blunt - what the man in the cabin had done to you.

He listened to your words, didn't interrupt, didn't quietly shake in anger, and refuse to meet your eyes like your father did, didn't weep for her baby like your mother did. He took your hand as it shook. He held your gaze.

It was his job to ask questions, but there weren't many left to answer.

The only reason you were alive was because his team had tracked the string of bodies to your kidnappers home. You were alive because one of his coworkers had put a bullet through his head, ending your nightmare.

The very idea of love was repulsive to you as you emerged from that basement in the first days of the next year, and you remembered thinking the snow looked fresh and soft. You remembered wanting to lay in it, to wrap it around yourself like a warm blanket and drift into sleep. The cold ground would be as much comfort as you would allow yourself.

Because after everything, you knew you didn't deserve love.

You accepted understanding from him, though.

When the shock wore off, you were awash in all the misery inflicted upon you. You raged, kicked, screamed, broke things, and made people uncomfortable. Nothing would numb the pain of being trapped inside your head, your head still trapped inside that basement, that cage.

He came to visit you at the hospital. The nurses had given up on you, were content you were physically healing, and that they had technically done their job but not bothered by your deteriorating mental state. Some days, you swore that they pierced your skin in the wrong places purposefully, not even searching for your vein.

But then he was there, with a book and a chess board, and he'd asked you if you'd ever played before.

“No. Chess always seemed too…” You swallowed the bile that drowned your lungs and tried again. “Before, it was boring. An old person game, too many rules. Now… He said we shouldn't do things like this. Said we shouldn't cultivate our minds.”

It was a confession again, but one that took a weight off your shoulders, and not one that pushed it further down.

“Would you like to learn?” His tone was so soft and awkward, like a teenage boy asking a girl out on a first date, that you almost giggled.

“I'll be honest and say you'll never beat me, I've played through most board combinations, including a large proportion of the 10^80 theorised checkmate positions, so if you'd rather do something else, that's fine, or I can leave, too, if… you'd… prefer?”

You had laughed then, a thing that bubbled up from the pit of your stomach and left your shoulders shaking as you gasped for breath doubled over.

You'd been in hell for six months, and he'd drawn you out of it for a few moments by rambling about chess.

“Are you a patient person, Doctor Reid?”

“I think so.”

“Then set up the board and let's play.”

He beat you every time, obviously, but you enjoyed his small explanations of the moves, and you did improve slightly.

More than that, you enjoyed his company. It wasn't that you talked extensively In your hospital room, oscillating between your lowest point and somewhere just a rung above that where the snow was falling and the air was fresh, but that he never looked at you the way others did.

You were discharged and were sad to lose that small glimmer of normality. He'd come twice a week throughout January, and now you were back in your usual shape. You were being discharged, and so that would end.

You were surprised that he came to pick you up from the hospital the day you left.

The parents who had looked everywhere for you for half a year hadn't wanted to, and the close friends from before hadn't spared you a thought since reposting your missing poster on their social media pages.

But the man you played chess with twice a week, the man who'd carried you out of hell himself was there.

“Ready to go?” You nodded, dumbstruck, and followed as he grabbed your bag.

You weren't exactly sure where it was you were going, but you followed the man anyway, only a small part of your brain shouting in protest considering the last time you'd been blindly trusting.

He led you back to an apartment with some bare furnishings but a large window and a warm soft blanket covering the bed. It wasn't his, but yours.

“Your parents are paying for it. They're taking the city to court due to the circumstances. Apparently, there were numerous phone calls to law enforcement that went unnoticed, but the city is looking to settle, so you don't have to worry about rent for a while, maybe ever again. The WiFi is all set up, hot water is working, and so is the heating. The locks are triple enforced, and I'm right down the hall, so if you need-”

“What?”

He blinked at you and suddenly, looking sheepish, as if becoming aware that he'd presumed a friendship between the two of you without consulting you first.

“I live down the hall.”

You stared at each other for a few moments as you processed his words. He lived down the hall. He'd driven you to your new home, set everything up for you, and he lived down the hall.

“You're a good man, Spencer Reid.” You whispered, turning away to not let the moment linger anymore than it already had.

Chess nights became routine. You'd set up the board and play for an hour or two or until you were sick of losing.

Gradually, though, the nights got longer. He'd arrive just as you were eating a meal, and you'd invite him to join you, or he'd bring along takeaway and you'd eat quietly together, talking about everything and nothing.

One day, you'd mentioned a film. A popular one, one you'd loved as a child and still rewatched to this day.

“I've never seen it, is it good?” He'd said. And in your shock, you jumped up and sent half the chessboard flying.

“Well, it seems that now our game is over, that we have time to give you an education, Doctor Reid.”

“I have three PhD's-”

“And still you haven't seen Clueless?”

You'd pulled him over to the couch he'd picked out for you, loaded up the movie and then invented a new tradition.

Chess nights and film nights were separate days of the week. So he could always promise to be around for one of them even if he had to miss the other because of work.

You didn't ask him about his job anymore. He saved people like you, and you didn't need to be thinking about people like you too much.

What they went through, if they survived physically. If they survived in other ways.

He always visited you first when he returned, though. There would be a knock on your door at some point in the day or night, and he'd let you know he was home safe.

Another tradition. You'd opened the door to let him in the first time he'd returned from a case after you moved in, and he'd leaned down and wrapped his arms around you.

You heard the breath of relief, loud and emotional, and hadn't quite realised it had come from you until a few minutes later. Some part of you had thought he wouldn't come back.

Now, every time he came home, you ran to the door and quietly comforted each other, reminding the other that no matter what happened, you were both there for each other.

You weren't sure when traditions and movies turned into love or if it had lingered over you the entire time. You didn't think you could love someone right then, your heart broken into small pieces with the torment you'd suffered.

But it was stitched back together with pieces of him still lodged inside. He was in the very fabric of your being as you became whole again.

The truth was that you most likely couldn't find love again because there was no room in your heart for anyone else. And you'd never be able to reschedule chess nights to go on dates anyway.

You weren't sure if Spencer ever figured out how much of hum you carried around with him, how your eyes followed his lips as he ran through decades of memories to give you the fact he thought would please you the most. You weren't sure if he loved you as much as you did him until you were.

You'd agreed to watch one of his movies for a change, agreeing to stop the streak of 80s brat pack classics to watch a black and white war film from Russia with no subtitles. You'd sat together on that couch under blankets you'd bought together months earlier, and he'd pulled you in closer.

“I want to watch the movie and translate at the same time. You should sit here.” He'd pulled you into his lap, letting your back fall against his chest as his lips fell to your ears, and he began to whisper.

Sitting there so closely, so intimately, was almost torture. Unconsciously, your head tipped back with his words, displaying your neck and shoulders, silently willing his lips to drift even once. His arms wrapped around your waist, and you did your best not to squirm the entire movie, but with your heart beating out of your chest, it was a hopeless cause.

“Did you enjoy it?” He whispered as the credits rolled, but you hadn't even noticed the movie had ended. It wasn't until the silence that followed his question stretched out notably that you came back to reality. You couldn't answer, in fact. You gaped for a few short moments, hoping something vague but accurate enough would just pop into your mind.

As you attempted to negotiate yourself out of distraction, you turned your face to his, but he was closer than you thought.

Your noses touched, and your breaths mingled. His arms still wrapped around your waist, and your blankets still anchored you to one another.

“I wasn't paying attention to the movie, Spencer. I'm sorry.” The words came out of you so fast, yet so quietly that you were surprised yourself how honest you had chosen to be.

“Why not?” He asked, eyes having drifted sleepily down to gaze at your lips.

You didn't answer his question but felt your cheeks flush red. You thought about pulling away, moving back, or at least laughing everything off, but you didn't. You stayed there, still like a deer in headlights.

“Your voice was too distracting,” You forced some of the tension out of your body and let your head fall against his shoulder again, hoping this moment wouldn't end anytime soon.

“Distracting?” He sounded concerned and shifted in his seat, lifting you up from your happy place in his arms until you were again face to face. “Did I make you uncomfortable?”

The look on his face was so concerned and focused that you had to pause for a second to catch your breath. He cared about your comfort so much and paid attention to each word that came out of your mouth. He wanted your happiness more than anything in the world.

“No. I'm never uncomfortable with you, Spencer.” You were back to whispering now, hands floating up to grab his own, fidgeting by his sides. You bought them up to your face and guided his hands to your cheeks, needing to show him just how comfortable you were with him in actions, not just words. Words could be dishonest. Actions were honest.

His concern melted away as he began stroking your cheek with his thumb, smiling sweetly at you.

Though you were both content, you'd never been quite this intimate before. So when his thumb swiped over the corner of your lips, your eyes both caught on each other. You could see him weighing up the outcomes in his head, going back and forth between pulling away and pushing in closer.

Slowly and softly, as though he were trying not to startle you, his head moved closer until his lips were on yours.

It was a quiet kiss. You wouldn't describe it as fireworks, or butterflies, or anything loud and grand and passionate. It was quiet, and it was right.

He pulled away seconds later, trying to gauge your reaction, but you followed him away and kissed him again.

When you finally pulled away, it took you a few seconds to realise you'd climbed back into his lap, unconsciously having moved closer to him. You guiltily looked up, waiting to see any discomfort on his features, but to your surprise, he was busy straightening out your hair.

“I love you, Spencer,” you whispered as he took care of you. He smiled, looking down at you once again, pulling his arms around you to gently lower both of you down to a laying position on your couch.

“I love you, too,” he said as you held each other and drifted into contented sleep.

#spencer reid #criminal minds #spencer reid fanfic #mgg #criminal minds fanfiction #criminal minds fandom #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid criminal minds #dr spencer reid #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid hurt/comfort

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elia-the-bibliophile · 14 days

Text

Illicit Affairs (Carlos Sainz Jr x Female Reader)

Genre: Angst

Word count: 1,3k

Intro: In the world of Formula 1, where every turn holds the promise of glory or heartbreak, she was just another face in the crowd. Against all odds, they find themselves drawn into an illicit affair that defies the constraints of their world where every stolen moment could lead to their downfall.

“Make sure nobody sees you leave

Hood over your head, keep your eyes down

Tell your friends you're out for a run

You'll be flushed when you return”

She slipped away from the bustling paddock, a hood shrouding her features as she navigated the labyrinthine corridors of Monte Carlo with practiced stealth.

With every step, her heart raced in tandem with the revving engines outside, a symphony of anticipation echoing in her ears. She dared not raise her eyes, afraid they would give away the clandestine mission she is doing.

“Just out for some fresh air," she muttered to herself repeatedly.

Rehearsing the lie she would feed her unsuspecting friends upon her return. Yet beneath the veil of secrecy, her cheeks burned with a flush of excitement, the thrill of their forbidden rendezvous moves her forward into the waiting embrace of dusk.

“Take the road less traveled by

Tell yourself you can always stop

What started in beautiful rooms

Ends with meetings in parking lots”

There he is, determination evident in the focused lines of his face, that you can't help but admire. In your mind, you envision him telling himself he can always stop, but you know he never will—not until he's crossed the finish line.

What started as a harmless fascination between a driver and his race engineer swiftly turned into something dangerous, all consuming. Both of them never intended it to go this far.

A voice interrupts your reverie, pulling you back from the depths of your thoughts. "Lost in your mind again, are we?" The familiar timbre of Carlos's voice sends a shiver down your spine, and you turn to face him, unable to suppress the warmth that floods your cheeks.

"It's hard not to get caught up in you," you reply, a playful twinkle dancing in your eyes as you meet his gaze.

Carlos chuckles, a sound that resonates like music in your ears. "Care to share those brilliant thought of yours, cariño?” he says, his smile lighting up his features.

“For you? Always”, you replied while caressing the stubble on his jaw.

On the paddock, in front of all those people they were nothing but mere acquaintance. But right here in this deserted parking lot, she can pretend all she wants. They can be anything they would like to be, away from prying eyes.

“And that's the thing about illicit affairs

And clandestine meetings and longing stares

It's born from just one single glance

But it dies, and it dies, and it dies

A million little times”

In the dimly lit corner of the Ferrari garage, you find yourselves locked in a yet another tryst, the air thick with tension and anticipation.

“This... this can't keep going on," Carlos murmurs, his voice barely above a whisper, his gaze fixed on yours with a longing that mirrors your own. "We both know it's risky." Yet his actions don’t mirror his words, as his hands keep on embracing you, his chin settled on top of your head as he towers a good few inches above you.

You nod, your heart pounding in your chest as you struggle to find the right words. "I know… but I just can't help it," you confess, your voice tinged with regret.

Carlos reaches out, his fingers brushing against your lashes in a fleeting touch that sends a jolt of electricity coursing through your veins. "I feel it too," he admits, his voice heavy with resignation. "But we're playing with fire, tesoro, and sooner or later, someone’s going to get burned. I don’t want that to be you.”

You swallow hard, the weight of his words settling like a stone in the pit of your stomach. "I understand," you whisper, tears threatening to spill from your eyes.

For a moment, the world falls away, leaving only the two of you locked in a silent embrace, clinging to each other as if your lives depended on it.

But even as you cling to this fleeting moment of bliss, you both know that the flame of your affair is destined to flicker and fade, extinguished by the harsh reality of the world outside.

“And you wanna scream

Don't call me "kid"

Don't call me "baby"

Look at this godforsaken mess that you made me

You showed me colors

You know I can't see with anyone else”

“—Mi corazón…”

As the weight of reality threatens to crush the fragile sanctuary you've built, a surge of defiance rises within you, fueled by the intensity of your emotions.

"Don't…” you whisper fiercely, your voice trembling with determination. "Stop calling me that.”

Carlos's gaze softens, a hint of remorse flickering in his eyes as he realizes the extent of the turmoil he's brought upon you. "I'm sorry," he murmurs, his voice filled with regret. "I never meant to hurt you. Please believe me, Y/N.”

You take a step back, the sting of his words slicing through the haze of emotion that clouds your mind. "Look at this godforsaken mess that you made me," you exclaim, gesturing to yourself, trying to hold back the emotions that threatens to consume you whole. "I don’t even recognize myself anymore, this pathetic woman who’s constantly begging for scraps.”

For a moment, silence hangs heavy in the air, punctuated only by the rapid beat of your heart. And then, with a sense of finality, you turn away, your resolve hardening with each step you take. "I can't do this anymore," you whisper, your voice barely a breath against the tumultuous winds of change. "Not like this."

“Amor please… I beg you,” Your resolve wavers seeing him like this. This magnificent man almost drop to his knees for someone so ordinary. His chocolate orbs glinting with unshed tears.

Yet you managed to walk away.

“And you know damn well

For you, I would ruin myself

A million little times”

With each step away from Carlos, the weight of his absence bears down on you, a heavy burden you carry willingly despite the pain it inflicts. "I am doing this for him," you murmur, your voice cracking with emotion, "He’ll understand someday."

From the sidelines, you watch as the crowd erupts in cheers, celebrating Carlos's first-place win. His smile shines like a beacon of victory, his arms wrapped around Rebecca, in a tender embrace.

They're a vision of happiness, their laughter mingling with the sounds of celebration that fill the air. As they bask in the glow of the spotlight, you can't help but marvel at the undeniable image that they project—a golden couple through and through. A star driver and his model girlfriend. It's a scene straight out of the front cover of a magazine. Headline worthy.

Carlos's gaze suddenly finds yours amidst the sea of faces. For a moment, time seems to stand still as your eyes lock in a silent exchange, a spark of recognition igniting in the depths of his gaze. It's as if the world falls away, leaving only the two of you suspended in a moment of shared understanding—a fleeting connection that transcends the chaos of the celebration unfolding around you.

And then, just as quickly as it began, the moment is shattered by the resumption of the festivities. Carlos turns back to Rebecca, he plastered on another wide smile as he pulls her close once more. But for you, the memory of that fleeting glance lingers like a bittersweet echo, a reminder of the love that once burned oh so brightly between you—a love that now exists only in the recesses of your heart, a distant memory of what could have been.

You can't help but feel a twinge of bittersweet longing—back to just mere weeks ago, when he held the same sweet look in his eyes for only you. Or so that’s what you’d like to tell yourself.

That’s the thing about illicit affairs.

#formula 1 #f1 x you #f1 x reader #f1 imagine #f1 fic #f1 fanfic #f1 #ferrari x reader #carlos sainz jr #carlos sainz jr x you #carlos sainz jr imagine #carlos sainz jr x reader #carlos sainz x reader #carlos sainz x you #carlos sainz x y/n #carlos sainz x female reader

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