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togeppys · 2 days ago

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family line ;

riorson!reader x garrick tavis onyx storm spoilers

xaden's younger sister, who has been in a relationship with garrick since before the rebellion, is meeting her mother for the first time in 13 years in hedotis and dealing with all of the chaos on the isle. based off of the song family line by conan gray & only one use of Y/N because I could not find a way to work around it lol wc: 8.5k whoops cross posted on ao3!

Scattered 'cross my family line I'm so good at telling lies That came from my mother's side Told a million to survive

As your dragon makes contact with the sand in Hedotis, you slide down their front leg to finally disembark after the aching 13 hour flight that your squad endured. Your body is tense from the rigid position you were forced to maintain on the ride, so you stretch to get all of the knots out of your body while familiarizing yourself with your surroundings. With a roll of your shoulders, you take in the slightly cooler temperature of this particular isle, and the new greenery that adorns the ground ahead of the group. You turn to look at the sea and the expanse of blue that seems to go on endlessly, relishing in the peace that overtakes you as you watch the waves roll in and crash at the shore.

Raising your arms above your head to stretch out your back, you let out a deep breath as the tension begins to lessen and you finally begin to feel comfortable again. Before you can fully lower your arms back down to your side and move to locate your brother or Garrick amongst the squad, a muscular set of arms wrap themselves around your waist, their owner's head coming to rest on your right shoulder. You don't need to turn to recognize the feeling of Garrick embracing you, and all you can do for a moment is smile, taking in the comfort of the warmth that he presents.

"Beautiful," Garrick comments and you can't help but agree, assuming he's describing the sea that you've been staring at for at least a few minutes now.

"It is, isn't it?" you ask rhetorically, staring down at the horizon where the blue of the sea meets the blue of the morning sky, "There's something inherently peaceful about it all, and it's such a gorgeous shade of blue."

"I wasn't talking about the sea," your boyfriend responds, spinning you around in his arms so that you're now facing him, and you can clearly see the mischievous twinkle in his eyes that somehow always seems to make itself visible when he flirts with you. He leans forward and gives you a quick peck on the lips before standing up straight once again.

Despite the fact that the two of you had been dating since right before the apostasy, you still get butterflies when he does things like this, and you feel your cheeks redden slightly despite your brain telling you that it's irrational to be getting this giddy when a man that you've been dating for six years tells you that you're beautiful.

You jokingly smack him in the center of his very muscular chest, and he lets out a laugh, finally untangling his arms from around your waist. You take his hand in your own, beginning to pull him towards the other riders and fliers who had gathered a little ways away. Your eyes skim over the buildings and merchants nearby as you approach them, finally hearing what they were discussing.

Mira and Drake are busy arguing about the Pelson maneuver, and both of you can't help but smile as no one takes Drake's side. It's when Xaden snaps at him that your smiles quickly drop, and you, Garrick, and Violet look at each other alarmed. Something that trivial ticked Xaden off that easily? Anxiety over how quickly your brother's humanity is deteriorating tightens your chest, and Garrick gives your hand a reassuring squeeze. You only look away from each other when Violet's head snaps towards a group in tunics that approaches your squad. As you all turn to face them, your boyfriend removes his hand from yours and you almost protest, before he instead wraps one arm around your waist protectively, as if he can yank you behind him at a moment's notice.

The man who approached you compliments your dragons, and introduces himself after Xaden questions who he is.

"I'm Faris, the second of the triumvirate," his introduction begins, and you can't help but stare at the colour of his eyes, a shade of blue bordering purple that you'd never seen on anyone before. Many people on the Continent had incredible eyes, but you had never seen any this colour before.

"Welcome to Hedotis," he greets the group, before complimenting Violet on her eyes. It appears to be a trait that everyone is focused on in the moment.

"I was just thinking the same about you," she admits.

"Mine are quite common on our isle," he responds, "I've brought my household to formally make your acquaintance and escort you through our beautiful city. If you're amenable, we have room for you to rest at our home on the northeast shore."

He gestures behind him and looks over at the group he arrived with. "Darling, won't you come say hello? I apologize for my wife. Talia seems to be overcome by your magnificent dragons."

The name sends a shiver down your spine - hearing your mother's name spoken by anyone brings a sour taste to your mouth, regardless of whether or not it's in reference to her specifically. A woman who seems to be the man's wife walks up to approach him, her face hidden from view. Her gown flows behind her, and she laces her fingers in his hand.

When she looks up and you can finally see her face clearly, you're frozen in place, unable to form a coherent thought or will your body to do anything that isn't just stand utterly still and stare at the woman in front of you. Her gaze first catches on your brother who is as frozen as you are, her eyes widening in shock. Her eyes study him for a moment unbelieving, before they flick over to you and you suddenly forget how to breathe as she looks over you in a similar fashion. Your knees go weak beneath you, and if it weren't for Garrick's arm holding you upright, you think that you'd have collapsed into the sand by now. The boy next to you is visibly pale as he mutters, "Oh, shit."

"Xaden? Y/N?" she whispers, raising her hand before dropping it, "Is that really you?"

Upon hearing her speak, you and Xaden seem to exit your trancelike state, your senses finally coming back to you. The moment of shock is gone, and all you can feel is rage. The woman before you is not the woman you spent your childhood looking up to, wishing you could be as graceful and beautiful as her. She's the woman who abandoned you at 8 years old in the middle of the night without so much as a goodbye. She's alive, been here in Hedotis all this time, without so much as a message. You see red, as Xaden curtly greets her with a tense "Mom."

She looks at you expectedly, and you can't find it in yourself to meet her with the same greeting. She lost the ability to be your 'mom' when she left you at a time when you were a child who needed a guiding feminine figure in your life. She lost the title of 'mom' when she didn't come back for you when your father died and you were forced into a foster home and subsequently Basgiath.

"Mother," is all you can get out, because the woman before you is not your mom, she's just the woman who brought you into this cruel world.

— • —

You sit silently with your legs draped over Garrick's lap on a couch in the bedroom that the two of you are sharing. You haven't said a single word since your first encounter with your mother, and you're grateful that your boyfriend doesn't push you to comment on it until you're ready. One of his hands soothingly combs through your hair, grounding you from the ire that pulses through your veins. Your mind hasn't calmed once since that moment, thought after thought plaguing you, your body essentially acting as if being controlled by an external source.

You were only eight when your mother had left, still a child with your kid-like features dominating your appearance. When you were fourteen, you had once heard Garrick and Bodhi's mothers whispering about how you looked exactly like your mother, only sharing a few features with Fen and your brother. Upon seeing her for the first time as an adult, you realized that they had not been exaggerating. There was no doubt that you were her offspring, your features almost identical to hers, which only made the experience more infuriating.

Xaden had informed you that he had no intention of talking with your mother before he retreated into his room with Violet, and you couldn't blame him. She left on his birthday, and he was the one that was forced to take on the responsibilities that never should have been his to bear. You wanted to do the same, shut the woman down if she tried to talk to you, but something in you also wanted answers; to hear the doubts that had circled in your mind for years confirmed, so that you could either find it in you to forgive her and move on, or conclude that she never was the woman you thought she was.

As if hearing your thoughts, a soft knock sounds on your door, and you know it's her - none of the riders or fliers would knock on the door with so much uncertainty. Garrick's hand freezes in your hair and he looks to you for confirmation.

"I'll go open it," he says, soft enough so that his voice can't be heard on the other side of the door, "Do you want to talk to her? I'll tell her to fuck off if the answer is no."

You ponder the options for a moment as a second knock follows. You can't seem to make up your mind, but your brain is leaning more towards hopefully never encountering her again. You shake your head in response, and he nods in understanding, pressing a quick kiss to your forehead as he moves your legs to the side so that he can stand up and walk to the door.

When the door opens you hear a clear "Garrick-" from your mother before the man swiftly steps through the crack in the door and into the hallway, shutting the door behind him so that their voices are now muffled.

"She doesn't want to talk," you can vaguely hear him say in response to a garbled request from the woman, his voice raised enough that you can still hear him despite the wall separating you, "And rightfully so, you abandoned them thirteen years ago and you're expecting for them to what, welcome you back with open arms and cheer for their mommy? A fruit platter isn't going to change you not being there for thirteen years. At this point, you've been gone longer than you were ever there. Besides, if you had been around the whole time you'd know she's too afraid of eating figs ever since Fen had to save her from choking on one."

You can't help but smile at the way that the older boy is defending you through lecturing your own mother. You know this is just as shocking for him - the woman was a frequent figure in his childhood as well before she turned her back on all of Tyrrendor and everyone within it. You're grateful for the protective stance that he's immediately taken, mentally reminding yourself to show him your gratitude when you're no longer in this situation.

"I'm not expecting a jolly reunion, I just want to talk, even if only for a few moments," your mother responds, a strain in her voice as if begging Garrick to convince you to talk to her, "She has the right to be angry, I just… I want to explain."

While you know that you likely can't trust a word she's saying, hearing her say that ignites the spark in you that makes you want to get your answers. Xaden definitely isn't going to talk to her, so maybe you can get answers for you both. You wonder if she had already tried at Xaden's door, and how Violet would have handled this situation. Garrick at least knew the woman before she left so he's able to argue with her, Violet has next to no context to defend Xaden.

"Explain what? That you abandoned your two children in the middle of the night without telling them you were leaving in the first place?" you hear Garrick scoff, "You weren't there to see the two people I care about most in this world fall apart because they lost someone that was supposed to be there for them and love them unconditionally."

Your heart seizes at Garrick's words as he continues angrily berating your mother. You really have to make sure he knows how much you appreciate him standing up for you later. Your heart takes over your head, and you find yourself standing up and making yourself look presentable in the mirror. You're going to go out there and put up with the woman for even just a few moments so you can get your answers.

"I do love them," you can hear Talia protest as you move towards the door, "You don't understand Garrick, you were just a child yourself. Even if it's just at dinner tonight, I need-- I want to talk to at least one of my children."

"Exactly, I was just a child, but your own son was the same age as me, much less your daughter being two years younger, and even I couldn't fathom your rationale for just up and leaving, so just imagine how much they-" Garrick's voice gets louder as you open the door, and his sentence is cut short, his head immediately snapping over to you as you stand in the doorway, eyes blank as you glance between the duo that had been arguing outside your door.

"My girl…" your mother whispers seeing you in the doorway, and you immediately shut her down.

"You lost the right to call me that when you abandoned me and Xaden," you state firmly, eyes boring into the woman before you even as her face falls from hearing your statement, "I wasn't going to talk but you get ten minutes to answer questions I have. That's all you're getting."

Talia frantically nods, agreeing to those terms, "Yes, yes of course, there's a room down the hall where we can sit." She brings your attention to the fruit tray that she has apparently been holding all this time. The hazel eyed boy looks at you with a skeptical glance, as if confirming that this is what you really want. You nod, hand briefly brushing over his bicep as your mother waits for you to follow her.

"Thank you," you whisper to him.

"I'll be right outside in the hall if you need me, okay?" he reassures, and you nod once again, leaning up to give him a quick kiss on the cheek before you move to follow after the woman.

As you walk down the hall, she spares a quick glance back towards Garrick, who hasn't moved an inch as he carefully watches the two of you walk away.

"The two of you really did end up together," the woman says, likely thinking back to when you were a child and you used to proclaim innocently that you would marry Garrick one day, seeing as he was the only boy you frequently played with that wasn't your brother or cousin, "He really loves you to defend you like that."

She doesn't say anything for a few moments as if in thought, before she continues. "Do you love him?"

You furrow your brows, finally looking at the woman in confusion. "Of course I do, why wouldn't I?"

She's silent once again, not answering your question, and you start to worry that this may be indicative of the conversation you're about to have.

"You and Xaden both… you found people who really love you. I'm happy," she finally says, and you once again look over at her confused. What is she playing at? Is this her way of trying to manipulate you into forgiving her in hopes that Xaden will follow in your footsteps?

You shake your head to clear your thoughts, and continue following after her. You're talking to her to get answers on behalf of your eight-year-old self. Nothing more.

— • —

Oh, all that I did to try to undo it All of my pain and all your excuses I was a kid but I wasn't clueless (Someone who loves you wouldn't do this) All of my past, I tried to erase it But now I see, would I even change it? Might share a face and share a last name, but (We are not the same)

"You never told us you were from Hedotis," you state accusingly as you now sit across from Talia in a grand room obviously meant for casual conversation with guests, the fruit tray resting on a small table between the two of you. She had never once explicitly mentioned being from the isle to you or Xaden, though in hindsight it seemed the obvious conclusion. She loved bright colours, and at night she soothed you and your brother with arinmint tea and stories of a purple-eyed race that lived in peace.

You and Xaden had come to the conclusion that she was hiding among the forces in Poromiel, completely unaware of the grand life that she had been living while her two children faced the possibility of death every day. You can't help but let your eyes wander over the grandeur of the room you're currently seated in; windows framed with intricately embroidered curtains, the shine of a clearly maintained floor, everything placed strategically around the room as if to serve a greater purpose. You have to stop yourself from comparing the room to how she maintained Riorson house years ago, in fear of accidentally letting your walls down in front of her.

"You and Xaden are the heirs to Tyrrendor, it was necessary you grew up with the Tyrrish customs, not those of Hedotis," she responds smoothly, as if her response was practised. You wonder if that was the lie she told herself all those years ago to rationalize hiding this information from the two of you.

A moment of silence passes between the two of you, both of you unsure of how to properly continue this conversation. You came into this discussion with the intention of getting answers, but now that the truth is within your reach, you're suddenly not so sure you want it. She stares at you expectantly, waiting for you to ask the question that hangs heavily in the air.

"Why did you leave?" you blurt out, finally finding it in yourself to ask before you become too scared to face the answers you're about to receive.

"I was only wed to your father because of a contract-" she begins, but you quickly cut her off.

"I know about the contract," you dismiss her response, once again immediately identifying this as a part of her rehearsed rationalizations, "I know that you never loved Dad, but you had to have an heir reach ten years old. You only had me two years after Xaden to make sure you wouldn't have to bear another child and stay another ten years if anything happened to him, didn't you?"

She stares at you, eyes wide for a moment, obviously not expecting this to be one of the questions you asked. A few seconds pass before she slowly nods, the first long-unanswered question you had finally being confirmed. You're not sure how to feel- your mother just confirmed that you were essentially just a backup for your brother.

"Is that why it was so easy for you to leave then?" you follow up, voicing the thoughts that swirl up in the back of your head, eyes never leaving her for a moment. You can see how she tenses, this conversation not going in the direction she expected.

"It was never easy for me to leave," she counters, shaking her head, "It was the most difficult thing I've ever done." Sorrow is plastered all over her face, but at this point you can't tell if it's real or just pretend- she'd lied to you throughout your entire childhood, who's to say she wasn't lying in this moment too?

"You didn't have to leave just because your contract was over," you fire back, crossing your arms over your chest, "If you really loved us, you would have stayed and been there for us as a mother would."

"I would have been killed! Either publicly as your father was, or in secret just as Mairi's husband was - I couldn't be a mother to you if I was dead," she tries to argue, but you can't help but roll your eyes.

"You weren't a mother to us either way. Dad wasn't killed until I was 15, there were moments that I- we needed you in the seven years you weren't there," you instantly reply, bitterness seeping from your words "And okay, fine if I play into that narrative, why didn't you come back for us when the rebellion was over? Xaden and I were sent to foster homes while our mother was apparently alive and thriving on the other side of the sea."

The resentment that radiates from you is evident, and the woman before you seems to shrink into herself with each word you speak. She displays regret, but there's no way of telling how sincere those outwardly displayed emotions are.

"I wanted to take you with me when I left," she begins, speaking slower now as if choosing her wording very carefully, "Your father wouldn't let me. I wanted to come back for you when I got word that the rebellion was over too, but General Melgren was watching all of you children too closely. I feared that he would consider it treason if I brought you two here, and would kill all three of us on the spot."

There is some reason to what she is saying - there was no way Melgren would have let the two children of the rebellion's leader flee the Continent and his control, but it doesn’t hurt any less.

"The least you could have done was tell us that you were leaving instead of disappearing in the middle of the night," you state plainly, and notice how she lowers her head as if agreeing with a small nod.

"Yes, leaving on Xaden's birthday was not the best way to go, but you have to understand that you were both very emotionally attached children. You sobbed uncontrollably every time your father had to leave for trips away, I never would have been able to leave if I told you both that I was leaving the Continent." she starts rambling, her excuses falling on deaf ears.

The frustration that had been simmering at a low boil within you has begun coursing through your veins as you hear her explanations, finding it increasingly difficult to stay civil.

"And you didn't stop to think that might have been an indicator that you shouldn't have left?" you snap, earning a flinch from your mother. Before, she had been willing to let you lead this conversation, but now the woman has rebuttals as the conversation approaches the direction that she had been anticipating.

"I felt nothing but love and adoration for both of you, but you were just children. You wouldn't have understood-" she starts, but your frustration has escalated to exasperation over the fact that despite your points, she does not seem capable of seeing the situation from your point of view.

"We understood fully well what abandonment felt like," your voice is laced with even more resentment as you interrupt her last excuse, ready to bring perspective to what life had been like following her departure, "What you didn't understand was how your leaving scarred me and Xaden. I slept by the foot of your bed every night, thinking that you would come back and I'd be there to see you when you returned. Dad noticed after a few nights and let me sleep in his bed until he was sure that I knew he would never willingly abandon me. So yes, I was a child but I had a better understanding of how a loving parent should act because of Dad than you ever will."

Talia looks at you in stunned silence, a tear rolling down her cheek. She reaches for your hand, but you immediately pull it away, unable to share in this emotionally vulnerable moment with her. You can't find it in yourself to pity her as the gravity of her actions seems to finally sink in.

"I- I didn't realize," she manages to whisper, and all you can do is scoff. You're not sure what she expected from you. Did she think you would accept her excuse of wanting to preserve her own life? Your father made sure to compensate extra for the lack of her presence in your life, and nothing she exhibits now comes even close to the love you felt from him when he was alive.

"Of course you didn't," you gesture to the room around you, though monochromatic, it's much more majestic than the life you'd been living before your return to Aretia, "When you have a life like this you don't need to think about your two children running from death on the Continent. What, you got married immediately, had a couple more kids and forgot all about us?"

You meant it as a sarcastic joke, but the pause and brief panic that flashes behind the eyes that are so similar to your own is not lost upon you when she responds, "I never forgot about the two of you."

Your eyes narrow in her direction as you lean forward slightly in your seat. "Did you have more children when you returned here?"

Talia's lips straighten into a thin line as if contemplating whether or not to divulge her next words. Finally, she decides to tell you the truth. "Yes, I have two sons with Faris. Simeon and Gaius."

It's now your turn to be stunned to silence. You have two half-brothers that you didn't know existed. Two more children to replace you and Xaden. You can't help the jealousy that consumes you; the two boys get to have a childhood with the mother that you and Xaden didn't get to fully experience - a childhood that didn't end in abandonment. You were already born to be a replacement for your older brother, and the fact that she had exactly two more children is the icing on the cake. Your next words are spoken coldly, as only fury fuels you now.

"This whole time, I wished you were dead," you start after the prolonged moment of silence that had passed, earning you a bewildered look, "I thought that there was no way the mother I grew up adoring wouldn't come back for us unless it was physically impossible for her to return."

Talia opens her mouth as if to protest, but you continue before she has the chance to speak.

"We might share the same features, but I am nothing like you. You say you love us but someone who loves their children would never make them feel the way you made me and Xaden feel. I will never treat my children the way that you treated us." Standing up angrily, you cast a cursory glance at the fruit tray that rests untouched in front of you. Its contents are all tailored to things you and Xaden liked as children, but don't match your current tastes at all, only further proving that she's too busy clinging to an idealistic past.

"I will be attending dinner but only for the sake of Violet's mission," you begin walking towards the door without so much as a second glance to the woman, "I don't speak on behalf of Xaden, but do not expect anything more of me."

You don't wait to hear her response before throwing the door open and walking out into the hallway. Garrick, who was patiently leaning up against one of the walls waiting for you, immediately straightens up upon seeing you emerge. Immediately noticing the anger plastered over your face, he cups the side of your face, stroking your cheek with his thumb in a soothing manner.

"I don't expect that went particularly well," he comments, trying to lighten the mood.

"No, it definitely did not," you respond, removing his hand, instead lacing your fingers with his, "Thank you for waiting out here for me."

The boy flashes you a sympathetic smile, the dimple just barely popping in his cheek, "Any day, love."

The two of you begin walking back to your assigned room, and you force yourself not to let any tears fall. You wasted too many tears on this woman as a child, and you will not let any more be shed because of her.

"She's somehow more awful of a mother than I remember," you try to joke.

"Really? I was going to nominate her for mother of the year," the boy jokes back as you walk through the doorway back into your shared room, "Though I guess she is the only one left so it's not really a fair competition."

You can't help but laugh, though you do acknowledge the harrowing truth that she is the last parent alive for any of you marked ones. Where there had been a mother-shaped gap in your life, the parents of your friends were more than willing to take turns acting as a second parent whenever you needed one.

When you had entered womanhood, Bodhi's mother was there giving you tips and helping you select any feminine items that you needed. When you got sick while your father was away on a prolonged trip, Imogen's mother brought you soup and made sure that you were well rested. When you first started dating Garrick, his mother was there to give you both a stern talking to about staying safe and making sure that you were both equally embarrassed by the end of her speech.

You didn't need the woman who gave you life to be present in your life when you had a community of people that truly loved you, always ready to stand by your side.

The revelation brings you to double check that the door to your room is closed and locked, before pushing Garrick to sit on the edge of your bed, with you standing between his legs. His eyes widen in shock, before fluttering shut as you go to firmly place a kiss on his lips, his hands reflexively going to rest at your hips. He enthusiastically returns the kiss, before abruptly pulling away. You frown as he looks at you, eyebrows knitted together in concern.

"As much as I like what appears to be developing here, I need to know that you're not just doing this because of whatever just happened with Talia-" he begins, his eyes looking between yours for confirmation that you're in the right state of mind.

You cut him off with another kiss, once again lasting only a few more seconds before you pull away to whisper in his ear.

"I spent so long caring about the mother that wasn't there for me, and I haven't been giving enough appreciation to the boy that has been by my side through it all," you say, and you can feel the sudden increase in his heart rate.

You see the corners of his mouth lift up in a smile, as his hands tighten around your hips.

"I won't argue with that."

— • —

How could you hurt a little kid? I can't forget, I can't forgive you 'Cause now I'm scared that everyone I love will leave me

You and Garrick were the last to arrive for dinner, and much to your dismay, the only two seats left at the table were the two right next to your mother. Garrick gives you a glance and takes the seat next to the woman before you can even open your mouth to comment on the situation. You mutter a quick thanks to him, before taking the seat to his left, next to Aaric. Xaden shoots you a glance as well, a look that he has perfected over the years, silently asking you if you're okay. You nod slightly, and he nods in response, indicating that he's okay as well.

After the conversation you had with Talia, you don't have much of an appetite. At first you only pick at your food, but Garrick leans over to you, whispering in your ear that you should eat so that you have energy to explore the rest of the isle. You can't argue with that, and use a hyper-focus on the plate in front of you as an excuse for avoiding the stare that Talia has divided between you and Xaden.

You only retain bits and pieces of the conversation, cataloguing enough so that you're informed enough for the mission, but not paying full attention in fear of either breaking down or lashing out against the woman to Garrick's right.

You can't help but tighten your grip around your fork as the remainder of your group identifies that this dinner is a test of all of you - a way for them to determine if you're worth their time.

"Talia will serve as witness," Nairi says, "And we thought an informal setting would be best given the… delicate nature of relations."

You can't help the satisfaction that comes from seeing your mother's shoulders slump as she shrinks in on herself at that statement.

"You mean in case my sister and I embarrass our mother in a public setting with our lack of wisdom. Is that your fear, Mom?" Xaden quips back coolly, casting a glance over at you before glaring daggers into the woman. To some degree, she's lucky that you had the conversation with her earlier - you can't imagine how much less civil you would be right now if you hadn't taken out your anger on her earlier in the day. She has two new perfect sons that she can present to the public. You and Xaden are now reduced only to these secluded meetings, her Riorson children not up to the Hedotis standard.

"No." The woman seems to regain her previous composure, realizing how weak she had looked before, "My reticence about tonight is due to my own shame, in that I asked Faris for a personal favour so that you might be more comfortable during the conversation. I don't worry about your intelligence. You were always bright children." She reaches for her goblet, hand shaking, a reminder to you of her cowardice. Despite what she says right now, you know that she's afraid of how her husband and the remainder of the triumvirate will perceive her two children from her past.

You can't help the audible scoff that escapes you, Aaric sparing you a quick look as Faris seems to change the subject, focus shifting to Cat as they discuss gryphons. It's not lost on you that she can only comment on your intelligence before she left, but what value does that measure present? You were eight and Xaden ten, merely children who knew so little of the world. Now you're both adults, riders bearing the burden of a revolution on your back. Your intelligence then is nothing compared to what you know now.

You're brought back to the conversation when you hear Nairi speak up once again. "So many young royals here. So many potential alliances. Why are you not contracted to one another? It seems… foolish not to forge futures and provide heirs who could unite your kingdoms."

Your eyebrows shoot up, and you notice that even Garrick can't hide the shock on his face at that statement.

Aaric defends his reasoning from next to you, so nonchalant that he appears as if this is just regular dinner conversation to him. You can't help but respect the way that he treats all of this with grace despite the subtle insult.

When Nairi turns to Xaden, his gaze also flickering over to you, you find yourself holding your breath. The whole situation with Cat and Violet was messy, and you fear slightly for how this will turn out.

"And your excuse? We received news months ago that your title had been restored to you." Your heart seizes, but you don't let it show. They have more current information than you realized; you should have guessed based on the way that Talia mentioned she knew about the rebellion ending, but it still hurts to hear.

"Well then as you know, I'm a duke, not a prince." Xaden responds even-toned, contrasting his action of stabbing a piece of potato on his plate with a fork. Nairi looks over to you, as if expecting your response as well.

"I'm only the backup for Tyrrendor," you sourly look towards your mother, who avoids eye contact at the accusatory statement, "I don't inherit much as long as Xaden stays alive, so I'm free to marry Garrick with no consequences." You toss a small smile over to the boy next to you, who in return has a smug smile light up his face, his arm going to rest on the back of your chair.

Talia rushes to defend Xaden's position, immediately blabbering on about the size of Tyrrendor and how an alliance was supposed to be secured, trailing off as she glances between Xaden and Violet.

"I don't owe you an explanation about my love life." Xaden states, a complete lack of amusement clear on his face.

"Lost that privilege about thirteen years ago," you mutter in response, but the woman hears it, and a dejected look crosses her face before she pivots to Cat, who is now summarizing the situation between her and Xaden, and the benefits of Xaden and Violet being in a relationship. You roll your eyes as the triumvirate seems to argue their points, proposing a contract marriage between Xaden and Cat.

Your blood begins to boil at the conversation unveiling before you. Do none of these people have an ounce of humanity in them? Is everything only done for the sake of a contract? You look between Talia and Faris, and you begin to see how clearly she fits in here, the woman who was willing to abandon her two young children for the sake of contract, married to this man who has no regard for Xaden and Violet's relationship.

"If bloodlines equaled allegiance, we wouldn't be sitting here under interrogation," Garrick pipes up sarcastically laughing, and you can't help but laugh at the truth of his statement. Talia was your mother, if you went by their logic, Hedotis would already be allied with Tyrrendor. "The two of them are your children right?"

A smile ghosts your lips at your mother's discomfort as she downs the tea in front of her in embarrassment.

"Draw up the papers," Xaden says suddenly, and all of your necks immediately snap towards him in shock. Is he really agreeing to a marriage with Cat?

"Ah, there we go! What an excellent decision. Shall we go with three or four years?" Faris exclaims happily, his hands clapping together. Normally, you would have a sarcastic retort, but you're too surprised by Xaden's response to say anything.

"Lifetime. Anything less is unacceptable," you watch as Xaden's hands meet the back of Violet's neck. "And her full name for the papers is Violet Sorrengail. Two Rs."

You almost choke on your own saliva, and Garrick does let a choked laugh out from beside you. Somehow, Aaric doesn't even react.

"My last name is tied to the title, but we could take yours," Xaden says to Violet.

"You could hyphenate? Or combine? Riorgail? Sorrenson?" Garrick proposes to the whole table, and you have to smack him in the leg so that he stops spurring them on. Xaden continues arguing with your mother who is a pleading and panicked mess from across the table.

Garrick turns to you as the others argue, his voice dropping and his dimple ever so present, "We could do that too when we get married. Thoughts on Riorvis? Tavson?"

You scrunch your face up in disgust, "Both of those sound awful."

He nods, "Yeah now that I hear it out loud I agree. Hyphenate? Riorson-Tavis? Tavis-Riorson."

You think on it for a moment, grateful to be having this lighthearted conversation rather than the heated topics the rest of the table are currently facing. "That's kind of a mouthful. I'm fine with just taking Tavis."

He raises an eyebrow surprised, but the smile doesn't leave his face, "You'd abandon the Riorson name?"

You lay a comforting hand on top of his thigh and a warm smile in response, "For you? Definitely."

He removes his hand from behind your chair, moving it to instead rest on top of yours. Your anger has dissipated, your mood significantly improving upon discussing the prospect of you being married to the love of your life. You're not going to let the rest of this table ruin that.

You focus on your food once again, instead taking your fork in your left hand now that your right is trapped under Garrick's. You try not to let your mother's words rile you up again; her spat with Xaden is almost word for word the same as the conversation she has had with you. It's clear that she has rehearsed her excuses, and you give Xaden the space to let his resentment out now, just as you had done in the guest room.

You don't speak another word until it's time for dessert, when your plate gets whisked away to the kitchen, and you lose your source of distraction. When dessert is placed in front of you, you can't do anything but freeze, eyes staring blankly at the slice of chocolate cake in front of you. You can't even find it in yourself to look up at your brother, for you know he's feeling the same sentiment as you right now. Chocolate cake was always his favourite, but it was equally sentimental to you. Every birthday or special event, chocolate cake was your mother's go-to celebration food. Every special occasion in your childhood was marked with this exact cake, and seeing it in front of you makes your mouth go dry.

Garrick has already begun eating the cake, mumbling to you about how it tastes exactly like the one from your childhood. You can't find it in yourself to take a bite - it feels as if you would be conceding to your mother, letting her win, showing her that she can still find a way into your heart.

You're suddenly snapped to your senses, as you see Violet from off to your left snatching the fork from Aaric's grasp. You look up in confusion, even more bewildered when you hear her yell "Stop!"

You quickly look around the table and notice that Garrick is the only one that's eaten any of the cake. Your heart starts to beat faster when you feel him start to sway.

"He said we could start," he says quizzically, before he blinks slowly, "I feel… I feel-" his eyes flutter and he collapses. By this point, your heart is beating wildly out of your chest as you and Aaric both lunge to stop him from completely dropping onto the table.

Holding him in your arms, you go to check his pulse, and you feel pure fear run through your entire body when Aaric, who is helping support the large man exclaims, "He's not breathing!"

Xaden runs over immediately, taking Garrick from your arms and laying him on the floor. You crouch next to him, refusing to leave his side, tears starting to blur your vision. You'd hoped in this kind of situation that you'd be able to remain calm, but seeing the man you love in such a vulnerable state, moments away from death, you lose all ability to think logically.

Your brother is checking his pulse once again, confirming that his heart is still barely beating.

"We need to get him to breathe, he's fucking blue." Aaric comments.

Xaden agrees, before leaning over and breathing into Garrick's mouth. The room feels as if it's spinning while you watch Garrick's chest rise as it's filled with the air from the other boy's breaths. You feel utterly useless as you sit there, watching your brother attempt to save your boyfriend's life.

"You poisoned my children?" you hear your mother shriek from across the room, your gaze snapping up as you hear her angrily berate her husband. You slowly start to put the pieces together. Faris poisoned the cake as part of the test, and Garrick was the only one who fell victim to it. This wasn't her doing, but if it weren't for her husband, you wouldn't be in this situation. You've already let her take enough from you, you won't let her take Garrick too.

"Let me," you say to Xaden, pushing him away from Garrick as he comes up for a breath. He starts to protest, but you cut him off, desperation in your voice, "Please Xaden, help Violet find a cure, I'll keep him breathing."

The boy hesitates before nodding, and he lets you take his place. Your lips meet your boyfriend's, significantly colder than they were only hours before. Tears stream down your face as you find a rhythm, breathing air into his lungs while Aaric sits near you in support. You don't hear a single word being spoken in the room, your frantic heartbeat the only sound in your ears as you work to keep the hazel eyed boy alive beneath you.

It feels like an eternity later when you feel Xaden's hand on your shoulder, urging you off of him so that you can take a break and he can take over for a bit. You look over to see Trager placing his hands on Garrick's chest to keep his heart beating. When did he get here?

You sluggishly look around the room to see that the rest of your group has arrived, and two members of the triumvirate are retching on the opposite side of the room. Tears are still frantically streaming down your cheeks as you stare down at your boyfriend's lifeless body, only being kept alive by the two men preventing him from drifting off to Malek.

"Don't leave me, please Garrick," you mumble, taking his hand into your own, "I can't lose you too, please stay alive." You don't look up when Cat and Maren come join you, the first girl soothingly rubbing a hand down your back, the latter mumbling encouraging words in your ear. You're too consumed with fear to be surprised that Cat is comforting you, though it does make sense to some degree. She controls emotions, it's only reasonable that she's here to comfort you through this. Or girl code or something. Who knows.

"He's going to be okay. Dain's preparing the cure now," Maren whispers into your ear, and you finally look up at the girl, pity in her eyes as she takes in your fragile state.

"They found it?" you whisper, and she nods. Cat's hand is removed from your back as Violet calls her off to do something, but Maren stays at your side.

"It was figs. He's just preparing it so Garrick can consume it. He's going to be fine." she smiles softly, and you finally stop trembling for long enough to her to take some comfort in your current state and go off to help Cat with her orders.

You don't move an inch until Dain comes back with the fig-drink and he and Xaden make quick work of trying to shove it down Garrick's throat. You lean forward, holding your breath once again, waiting to see if it works and if you'll have the man you love back to you.

He suddenly sputters, some of the drink coming out of his mouth, but Xaden is there in a moment telling him to get up and drink it. You feel as if your body is weightless, sagging in relief as your boyfriend takes four chugs to get the remainder of the drink down. He's alive and you're not going to lose him today.

You and Xaden both look at each other, relieved that he was able to at least be conscious for long enough to take in the drink. You take as few breaths as humanly possible in the next three minutes as you and your brother sit hand in hand next to his body waiting for him to wake up.

When Garrick groans and opens his eyes, muttering "This is my least favourite isle," you cry out, burying your face into his chest. Xaden's head falls back as if in a prayer of thanks that his best friend is alive.

Garrick lightly places a hand on the back of your head, as Xaden jumps up and goes to shove Faris against the wall. Deservedly so. You can't find it in yourself to be angry at your mother right now, you can only feel relief and the tears start once again as you remove yourself from Garrick's grasp.

You quickly move to place a kiss on his lips, more desperate than any shared between the two of you before. He weakly kisses you back for a few moments, before you finally come up for air. Your foreheads rest against each other, and he wipes away the tears that are falling down your cheeks.

"I thought I lost you Gare," you cry, trembling in his embrace.

"It's going to take more than a piece of chocolate cake for you to lose me, love." he jokes, and you can't help but laugh as you hold him, tighter than you ever have before, "Ironic the figs that almost choked you to death years ago are the thing that saved me today."

"I love you," is all you can say, despite the chaos reining around you. Fights are being broken out, threats being uttered, but all you care about is the boy in your arms right now that you hope to never lose again.

"I love you too," He kisses your temple with all the strength he can muster, before groaning as he tries to properly sit up, "Can we get the hell off this isle as soon as possible? Your mother's new family is a little psycho."

You smile, nodding as you support him.

"I think I agree, let's never come back."

#garrick tavis x reader #garrick tavis x y/n #garrick tavis x oc #garrick tavis #riorson!reader #xaden riorson #violet sorrengail #fourth wing #iron flame #onyx storm #talia riorson #togeppys

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thecatsofus · 2 days ago

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-ˋˏLoser!Streamer!Ellie HCSˎˊ

Warnings: Nothing but fluff😽

a/n: this is what i wanted to give yall? NO! but this is what yall are getting🫶🏻 Soooorry if it has any mistakes, English is not my first language

Loser!Streamer!Ellie Who met you when you joined her Livestream and asked to stream with her.

Loser!Streamer!Ellie Who in that moment got down bad for you because she immediately clicked on your profile and saw that gorgeous girl who wanted to play with her.

Loser!Streamer!Ellie Who sometimes invites you to play with the excuse "You're funny to play with and you're good", but she actually just wants to hear your voice and see your face.

Loser!Streamer!Ellie Who's always watching your streams when she's not streaming.

Loser!Streamer!Ellie That fans started shipping you two as soon as you commented on Ellie's appearance and she blushed.

Loser!Streamer!Ellie Whose fans started shipping EVEN MORE when you two posted a photo in the same place at the same hour, no faces, not even the same picture, they just assumed you two were in the same place (and you were!!)

Loser!Streamer!Ellie Who was freaking out to ask you for a simple hangout in your favorite restaurant, how does she know? Well, let's say she has her ways.

Loser!Streamer!Ellie Who you started streaming even more with and people got more suspicious about it, especially because when you """"jokingly"""" flirted with her she always blushed.

Loser!Streamer!Ellie Who got down BAD when she found out you were friends with Dina, always asking her questions about you and Dina got the hint quicker than Ellie falling in love with you.

Loser!Streamer!Ellie Who Dina mocks for liking (loving) a girl she barely knows, and who probably is straight.

Loser!Streamer!Ellie Who talked with you from "Good morning" to the "GO TO SLEEP ELLIE IS 3 IN THE MORNING" "WHAT ARE YOU DOING AWAKE THEN??"

Loser!Streamer!Ellie Who got butterflies whenever she looked at your profile.

Loser!Streamer!Ellie Who when you asked her out was stressing to find the right clothes, fix her hair perfectly, etc, etc.

Loser!Streamer!Ellie Who freaked out when you talked about your ex girlfriends and how you completely despised men, but had to hide it since she was in front of you(I just know when she got home she definitely screamed and immediately called Dina to tell the news).

Loser!Streamer!Ellie Who after a few months gathered enough corage to ask you to be her girlfriend, but in the end messed up and you laughed at her.

Loser!Streamer!Ellie Who got her cheeks like someone painted it red. Not just red, but red RED.

Loser!Streamer!Ellie Who started crying when you took a little box of rings out of your bag and gave it to her, asking if she wanted to be your girlfriend.

Loser!Streamer!Ellie Who said yes sobbing in your shoulder.

Loser!Streamer!Ellie Who you called cute and she started crying even more, poor girl was never treated right.

Loser!Streamer!Ellie Who got sad when you said you didn't want your relationship to be public, but after a few weeks you said it was ok and she started posting you like a mom obsessed with her kids (just a woman obsessed in her woman, so what?)

Loser!Streamer!Ellie Who never got and never will get tired of you because that girl watches the same show since she's 10 years old.

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tkimichi · 2 years ago

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butterfly on your right shoulder 🦋

#digital art #artists on tumblr #illustration #art #artwork #drawing #doodle #sketch #project sekai #project sekai fanart #prsk fa #pjsekai #anhane #an shiraishi #kohane asuzawa #BUTTERFLY ON YOUR RIGHT SHOULDER WAS SO GOOD #changed my life

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screampied · 9 months ago

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✧ ⁺˳ cw. fem! reader. husband nanami, whiney nanami, brēeding, cowgirl, mdni. adding to this

riding nanami so good that it makes him want to propose. focusing his weight purely on his rocking chair, the continuous creaks sing as you’re rutting back and forth. “s- sweetheart,” he slurs in a dreamy tune, a baritone-like rasp falling on his words. one hand of his grips toward your waist, tracing a thumb against the pretty curvature of your torso. whining yourself, you lean in toward his neck to bury your face near the crook, but he makes you collapse back. “no, no. don’t hide from me, wanna see those eyes,” and as gentle, mahogany irises meet your own, he groans. “good girl, my good girl. jus’ keep lookin’ at me, yeah.”

“kennnn,” you whimper, the repetitive dragging of your hips scratching a bittersweet carnal itch near the insides of your brain. his body heat was scorching hot, you thought you were gonna melt. the insatiable skin slapping against skin makes you deliriously numb, you want more. with your loose jaw hanging itself open, drooping—you lean in to lick a stripe up his neck. “fuck, ‘s good. mhm,” and each time you slam back and forth against him, he kisses his teeth. nanami’s sweating profusely, he barely even notices though because his entire attention’s focused on you. his pretty girl. although, the moment you start to dip your hips in a deep circular rotation, he tosses his head back.

“fuckin’ s- shittt,” he swears, and even his curses sounded so blissful . . sinful. for the first time in forever, nanami whines. the palm of his hand then closes in on your ass to give it a good firm squeeze. with fawn strands covering his eyes, he starts to shake. with his hefty chest heaving and a needy tone pouring from his voice, his gaze meets yours once more. “marry me, m- marry me, i need you to be my wife, please.”

an eyebrow of yours quirk upward at his words as a smile pierces its way against your spit-slicked lips. you throw your arms over his broad shoulders before giving him a sweet reply.

“hm?” and your hips had him going insane—the tempo, it was just right. not too fast nor too slow. the centers of your jittery knees bury itself into the sides of the chair before you whisper into his ear. “did you forget, baby? ‘m already your wife.”

nanami moans, your voice was enough to make him spasm right then and there—you sounded so sweet but your insides felt even sweeter.

your sloppy cunt grips against him tight like a vice, simply clinging onto him for dear life. within each pull and bounce against his lap, your walls were so gummy and goopy. it was just tantalizing. you were nothing but a tease and he only craved for more as each second passes.

taking in every inch of his thick cock, you hold back a noise yourself. digging the edges of your teeth into your bottom lip to suppress an incoming squeal, you kiss his neck — it was slow, you create a soft trail of butterflies with your lips. marking his neck with your own wings that press against your mouth.

“hah, oh . . are we?” he responds, panting. with a hand still glued to your hip like it’s made of adhesive, his eyes meets his ring finger. you and him were definitely still married. he groans, feeling a lump in his throat equivalent to the size of a saucer. “ah, forgive me sweetheart. ‘m sorry, y- your hips are just so..”

he doesn’t even bother trying to finish his trembling sentence before his cock kisses up against your g-spot once more. not just an ordinary kiss though, a french kiss.

it’s sloppy, passionate, and exquisitely thorough.

tangled fingers of yours claw at his cerulean blue dress collar. with cobwebs and cobwebs of slick saliva sloshing against each mouth — he huffs, shivering from your hands to roam further down his work shirt he wore. nanami was sexily slouched back, two thighs spread open for you with a single leg bouncing up and down in anticipation.

oh, he was close. his base sags and hangs as you’re rutting against him quicker and quicker. with a nice amount of fingers scraping through his hair and toying your fingertips with his scalp, you dip your tongue further into his mouth. “m- my love,” he purrs, and you don’t think you’ve ever heard him so whiney. his voice was melodic at most, each breaking syllable making the throbbing between your legs intensify. “don’t stop, please—i love you, i love you.”

“i love you too ‘ken,” you babble, feeling the elastic stretch curve and pull through your walls.

your lips part and you moan before feeling him hold your waist tight. nanami groans against your ear and it’s so low that it was almost a mere growl. it could have easily been mistaken as a growl with the raspiness in his voice. with your knees continuing to plow deeper into the chair, bouncing back and forth, he spanks you, again, and again, and again.

nanami’s about to come, you know once his prettily blown irises roll wayyy back until he’s seeing white and his thin brows curl into a proper furrow.

each sloppy bounce against his lap punctuates so good that he’s barely able to hold his moans back by now. you had him hooked. his faint poking dimples press together as he tries to speak, but instead of words, another dragging whine escapes. leaning up against his ear, your warm breath tickles his lobe. “c’mon, kento. cum in me, ‘s okay. make a mess in me, baby.”

“f- fuck, keep talk to me just like that, sweetheart ‘n i might,” he replies back in a shaky tone, feeling a chill reside up his spine.

your cunt’s addictive warmth was preparing to milk him for all that he’s worth. as he clenches down on his jaw for the umpteenth time, his grip against your waist tightens. “ugh, ‘s gonna be so much. so much for you, my sweet l- love,” and as he’s rambling, a thick load abruptly shoots into your core, dribbling into your womb. it’s hot, and when it rains it pours. nanami swallows thickly, the same lump that lived in his throat was now forming into a ball. your hips steadily slow down and you glance down to see the lewd mess emitting deeply into you. it’s so much—it’s velvety, creamy ropes of cum that quickly fill you up to the very top. as his tip spits such sloppy amounts of seed into your starved cunt, he bites his lip. “oh, ‘s still comin’ out. forgive me, ‘m givin’ you all of me, princess.”

with a soft smile, you kiss near the crevice of his mouth where a tiny crinkle caresses and marinates against his soft features. “don’t apologize for being dirty, ken. ‘s okay.” and his face softens at your words. nanami feels his body shudder with heat from how gentle you were with him.

you’re clinging onto him dry and he’s still pumping you full of ridiculous inches—featuring his beloved, syrupy textured cum. it’s a whopping amount that he could barely process how much he’s gifted to you until he actually looks down. the moment chest deflates, the sensitive crown head of his cock gives your sweetest spot its final chaste kiss. satisfied with being filled to the very brim, you don’t get off just yet. instead, you remain there, gently brushing your hips forward.

“m- marry me,” he repeats, his voice cracking.

nanami hears the squelches and spurts your own pussy makes from the residue of cum spewing from the undersides of your legs. “ah,” and he grips your chin, attempting to kiss you but his lips instead reach toward your chin. you worn him out, he’s barely even reaching your mouth and it’s cute. nanami’s got hooded half lidded eyes and a pried open mouth. he’s almost drooling for you, that’s how whipped you had him. “be my wife, i need you.”

kissing his cheek, you smile at his current pussy drunken state. taking a mental image to savor this moment forever, a thumb brushes its way against his tender cheek. “i'm your wife already, silly,” and his eyes dramatically roll back in rapture again. nanami’s releases always last long, and he’s still getting over it. his dick twitches from the sound of your voice, and he wanted more of his sweet sweet wife. the feeling of your sopping walls squeezing him for every ounce of cum he’s got makes him grunt. it feels so good that it’s almost heavenly. it’s warm and insanely sticky — oozing in ropey wads from your hole before trickling all near his lap. “all yours, ken.”

“all m- mine,” he repeats breathlessly, gently grabbing your wrist up to his mouth.

with a sheepish exhale leaving his lips, a free hand slithers its way toward your tummy. sighing deeply, nanami makes direct eye contact. “my love,” he repeats for a final time, and you gasp once he suddenly pulls out.

pouting for a second at feeling empty, he makes you lie flat on your back. nanami’s got a feral look in his eyes, broad shoulders raising up and down and messy unkempt strands all in his face, he wants one thing tonight and it’s you.

as he spreads your quavering legs open with a single hand, he then creeps two fingers toward your stuffed cunt to smear his cum near your entrance. “since we’re already married, let me g- give you a baby, sweetheart. you’d be such a good m- mommy.”

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versupital · 6 months ago

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geeked up.

you fucked around and snuck him an aphrodisiac, so now all you’ve got to do is survive until the effects wear off!

content: smut, established relationships, bondage, edging, overstim, degrading, oral sèx, public sèx, exhibitionism, drüg/alcohol use, afab!reader, gn!reader on nanami, spit kink, masochism

incl pairings: kento, toji, satoru, suguru

word count. 8.3k

soundtrack 🌧️💿: sativa ft. swae lee

COCK THAT TEA / NANAMI.

A cup of hot tea. That's all Nanami had requested.

The lemon stimulant you’d mixed into the drink had made him wrap up his work early, clamoring downstairs, his eyes glassy with desire.

"Darling," he breathes out, staring at the floor, holding the cup in his shaky hand. "Are you busy?”

He’s so polite about it. At first.

“What ever is the matter, Ken?” you question, running your cleaning rag in slow circles over the dining room table, standing on your toes as you stretch across the surface. “I’m trying to clean.”

He nearly growls, eyes shutting and reopening with frustration. His fingers flutter at his side like butterfly wings and he takes a step towards you.

“I need to be inside of you,” he blurts, looking momentarily embarrassed before his face darkens, then he looks up at you with viper eyes.

“Right now?” you fake your surprise, walking around the table to stand in front of him. “But the dining room is so filthy…” You watch as his nostrils flare; he’s clearly taking in your scent.

“You know I would never force you,” he grits out, voice choked. “But also - mmh - p-pretty please?”

His arms come up, either side of you, and he moves to pin your body between himself and the table. He releases the teacup on the table and his fingertips grip onto the surface so harshly that his nails make tiny imperfections in the wood.

“My God, are you feeling alright?” you stall, pressing the back of your hand to his flushed forehead. “You look unwell.”

“I feel unwell, baby,” he says, tone serious and apologetic. “I feel like I might die if I can’t put my cock in you. That is unreasonable.”

Even as he says the words, it’s clear in his eyes that he doesn’t care how irrational it is. He wants to act on his urges so badly.

You rest your hand over the painful lump in his pants. “Is that so?”

“No, please don’t,” he breathes. “D-Don’t wanna lose my control…”

“You won’t,” you purr, slipping his zipper down. “You’re gonna be good and let me take care of you for once, ‘kay?”

His shoulders visibly slump a bit as the pressure from his hard cock is released by his unzipped pants. You take it a step further and dip your fingernails underneath the waistband of his Calvin’s, softly scratching over the blond happy trail.

“No, no,” Nanami’s head falls onto your shoulder, full body shudders coming out of him.

“I’m just trying to help, Ken,” you quip, rolling your eyes, moving to pull your hand out; but in the same beat his large hand clamps around your wrist and shoves it down deeper.

He jerks forward against you, a whine for help coming out of his mouth and landing breathily in your ear canal. You try not to shudder yourself, wanting to maintain the facade that you’re in control.

“Please, just take it out,” he begs.

How could you deny him? Your usually composed, control-taking husband is begging you for something. It breaks your heart as much as it nearly makes you cream your undies.

"Alright," you say calmly, clamping your fist around his shaft, squeezing harshly as you remove it from its barrier.

Nanami whispers gratefully in your ear - over and over - until it fades into moans, because of you sliding the pad of your thumb over his oh-so sensitive cockhead, spreading his precum all over the throbbing skin.

You have his heartbeat in your palm. You feel it racing faster with each stroke of your finger. The organ jerks in response and so does Nanami.

His hips begin to mindly grind back and forth, his torso rubbing yours, hardening your nipples and exposing your arousal.

You let his length slide in and out of your fist, and his hands grip onto your breasts like they can save him from ruin. His hair has fallen down around his head, sweat ruining his gelled style. He looks so desperate.

You'd only wanted to see if the aphrodisiac would remove some of his patience. He's always so kind, slow, gentle. You were writhing to see him lose control, have his way with you, rough you up. You’d hardly expected it to turn him this submissive and needy.

Fwip! Fwip! The sound of your top disappearing makes you gasp. You’d gotten too lost in thought and allowed him to get your shirt off, leaving you in just underwear.

Your thighs turn in on themselves, but they’re no match for his strength. It’s as if you'd let a feral panther out of its cage, his nails clawing at the waistband, threatening to shred it as his hips pick up speed.

On a whim, you release his shaft and put your palm to his tip, running it over the shiny pink skin. Nanami’s neck nearly snaps back. You rotate your palm over the tip and rip! his iron grip accidentally tears your underwear off.

He doesn’t notice, as he maintains his grip on the fabric with his eyes closed. He freezes in place as you violate his sensitive tip and the underside.

“Agh - shit, shit, nonono…” Nanami spits out.

Until finally he’s had enough.

In exactly three movements, he has your spine curved painfully against his torso, hand clasping a handful of your hair and pulling it against his chest, your shredded undies fallen somewhere on the floor. His groans in your ear are wet and raunchy, coming from the depths of his throat.

His cock pushes through your soaking ring of muscle, sliding through the ridges until it rams into your cervix. He has no regard for your pain level, punishing you even as tears brim your eyes. His hand cracks harshly on your asscheek, before scratching the sensitive skin and making you scream.

"My love, you feel so fucking good.” The lewd words leave his lips in an uncharacteristic way.

You want to roll your hips in time with his but he releases your hair and brings his hand around to cup your neck - faltering you as he thrusts deeper, the painfully solid cock violating your walls. If not for your pussy flooding the veiny organ, your entrance would be raw from the harsh stroking and lack of regard for your pleasure.

With a release of your throat, Nanami's hand moves to the back of your head and forces it down against the table, cheek pressed to the wood. You look at the abandoned drink at the other end. Now you’re watching as the cold liquid ripples through the teacup with each rhythmic thrust of your husband splitting you from hole to hole.

“F-Fuck, Ken, take it easy,” you whine, knowing it’s a full fib.

You want him deeper than he already is, cock bottomed out, heavy balls sticking to your clit each time he goes all the way in. Your internal organs feel like they’re being bent out of shape, pressure in your belly a bit painful, but mostly exhilarating.

“I-I can’t, baby,” Nanami grunts from above. “Your pussy has me so out of control.”

You decide to admit, in a sultry moment of regret what you’d done. Your pussy can’t take all the credit for making him this feral, can it? Nanami doesn’t respond much, but his cock begins to take it out on you.

His veins pop from his wrists as he pushes your head further into the wood, cheek squishing in on itself, muffling your sobs.

He moans in response to his new rhythm, grunting your name over and over, mixed with naughty minx, take me, feel good?, mhmm.

He hikes his hips at an upward angle and the new spot he's hitting is foul, causing you to scream so loud the noise reverberates off of the walls.

You put a leg up, knee to the edge of the table for stability. Your arms stretch across the surface and you feel drool trickle out of your mouth - your mind so fucked out that you can't even bring yourself to moan.

"Where's my spouse?" Nanami questions rhetorically, shoving a deep thrust in you while cracking his palm on your stinging asscheek. "Why can't I hear them?"

You swallow, trying to stop some of the drool, attempting to answer him but all that comes out is a guttural cry for mercy.

Nanami pretends not to hear it, and runs his nails along your pretty arched back.

His fingers yank your head in the direction of his old cup, “Be sure to look at what got you into this ordeal, dear. Stimulants in my tea, really?”

Your moans return when you feel the pool of fire deep within your belly, and Nanami feels you fluttering your walls around him in an attempt to fight off the orgasm. But he recognizes your moans all too well, so he drills his hips harder to push it out of you.

"Ken! No!" you cry, trying to hold it off, but just before you release he's spilling his own hot spurts into you.

You feel each rope hit the opening to your cervix and your cunt sends you into the harshest orgasm you've had your entire marriage; your one leg that remained on the floor giving out, leaving you to dangle on the edge of the table.

But Nanami's strokes show no sign of slowing down. You feel the veins in his cock drumming against your slick ridges, and his length remains solid.

“Mm, so much wetter now,” he notes, his cum nearly sticking his balls to to your clit every time he shoves his groin against your ass.

The noise that comes from your cum mixing together as lubricant is so nasty; it makes your toes curl as you lay on your stomach and continue to take the pain.

You’ll spend the rest of the evening begging him for mercy and not receiving it. When you think he’s finally done, he carryies you upstairs, telling you that he’s going to give you a massage to calm your strained legs.

But when you end up on your side as Nanami stuffs you full of kids for the sixth or seventh time, you realize the massage had been part of his plan, and he gives no hint that he’s near finished with you.

KNOTTY BOY / TOJI.

Toji had arrived home from work right on schedule. You'd been in the middle of preparing breakfast for dinner, the kitchen smelling of bacon grease and syrup.

He'd come in and given you a quick kiss, then disappeared to the back of the apartment to shower.

While he was gone, you'd finished cooking, and loaded his plate up with sausage, bacon, and eggs. Then, you plopped a tower of pancakes in the leftover space. This is when you ripped open a packet of honey from the gas station. You'd seen it on the counter one day whilst getting snacks and, you were curious to see if the rumors were true.

You’d felt a twinge of guilt as you drizzled the honey all over his pancakes and then hid your naughty work by covering it with maple syrup. It almost felt like drugging him, but you knew it wasn’t, and the worst that’ll happen is consensual rounds of sex. You’d disposed of the empty wrapper in the trash just in time.

Toji comes back from his shower with damp hair and oily skin, wearing nothing but a pair of basketball shorts that cling low on his v-line. Your chest heats in response, but you maintain an innocent smile as you pad over to him with his dinner.

He sits down at the kitchen table, ready to dive into your delicious meal with a thankful grunt.

"Not hungry?" he questions, noticing that you remain standing behind him, rubbing some of the tension from his shoulders.

"I had a heavy lunch," you lie. "How was work?"

Toji pokes his fork into a sausage link before bringing it to his mouth, "Hot. Annoying. Lil' bitch Shiu was moaning about his sunburn all day."

You giggle, observing the darker shade on Toji's skin from where he has the privilege of tanning instead of frying in the sun. He's glowing like a cinnamon roll coated in sweet icing, and you want to drag your tongue over his moisturized torso.

"Well, least you're home now," you kiss his cheek. "I missed you. I hate when you have to work such long shifts."

He sighs. "Gotta do what I gotta do, puss. Have ta'make sure you have everything you want."

"That so?" you coo. "There’s something I want right now."

Toji reaches for the cup of orange juice you'd poured for him, thick eyebrow raised, “Spit it out.”

"Have you ever considered letting me tie you up? You know, 'stead of the other way around?" The words are out before you can stop them, and you're immediately writhing in regret when there's silence for several moments.

Toji takes a sip of the juice, and then turns to face you. "Needy brat, you thinkin' about tying me up while I'm tryin'a eat?"

You tap your fingers on his traps, trying to build a shovel to dig yourself out of this hole. "Actually, I've been thinking about it all day," you admit. "I was just worried you might be too tired for… you know."

His fork pokes into the pancake stack. You’re overcome with a sense of urgency. The minute he ingests the honey, the timer begins.

Toji chuckles and tilts his head awkwardly, rolling his neck. "You know I would never let you go to bed without a couple of nuts, ma." He takes a big bite of the cakes. "Didn't expect that, though.”

"O-Only if you want, of course," you throw out quickly, suddenly more nervous.

Toji swallows and turns to wrap an arm around you, pulling you flush against his body as he sticks his fork back into his food. "If you're gonna be in control, ya can't backtrack. Gotta stand on business.”

You swallow, "Well, unlike you, I need your compliance because I can't just throw you around like you weigh nothing."

Toji's body shakes against you as he takes another bite of pancake. You know the effects take a bit to kick in, but you aren't sure how much time you have left now.

"Would like to see you try to throw me around, though,” he says before adding, “do ya even know how to tie a knot, lil’ girl?”

"Of course," you say, offended. "I've watched you plenty of times."

"Usually while you're already on your second orgasm and cockdrunk, but..." he shrugs, "we'll see.”

You part from him, allowing him to finish his dinner as you collect the ropes from the closet. You untangle them as you wait. You're buzzing with excitement, blood pumping through your ears and your cunt, as you can already imagine his large torso being pierced with puffy red marks from the ropes digging into his baby-soft skin.

You're just about ready to drag him away from the kitchen by his ears when Toji finally comes into the room, sucking leftover syrup off of his thumb, eyeballing you.

"Mm, did you do something different to the pancakes, puss?" he questions. "Might be a new favorite of mine."

You smile and shrug. "Nope, don't think so."

He buys it, or if he doesn't, he doesn't press the topic further. Instead his eyes travel over the wooden chair in the center of your bedroom.

“Welp, let the games begin,” he says, holding out his arms as he releases himself to be at your mercy.

Around ten minutes later, his sits with his arms pinned behind his back. His torso is attached to the back of the chair while his ankles are bound to the legs.

“Well done,” Toji grunts, attempting to tug on the ropes and being unsuccessful in loosening the knots. “My lil’ brat does pay attention.”

You lean over him, putting your hands on his shoulders. His cock has definitely hardened by now, sitting pretty in his lap as you’d requested he take his shorts off before being tied up.

You watch as his thighs flex and his cock jerks up, tip glistening under the warm lighting in your bedroom.

“Agh, fuck,” he spits. “Show me what you got, dollface.”

You continue to stand, fingers linked together in front of you, implying you have no intention of touching him. “What do you mean?” you ask innocently.

“Brat, don’t piss me off,” he grunts, a vein in his neck throbbing as he tilts his neck, fighting harder against his restraints now.

You giggle innocently and bring your knee up to the meeting of his thighs, ghosting it over his light brown tip. “You doing okay there?”

His eyes flutter closed, beads of sweat appearing on his brow line just under his hair. “Fuck. Stop doing that shit.”

“Or what?” you taunt, knowing he’s trapped.

“Oh, I’m going to kill you,” he threatens, but he can’t help but let out a delicious grunt when you glide your knee up his wanton shaft - back down again.

“What is it you always call me?” you tap your chin, pretending to think about it. “Needy whore.”

“Fuck you,” he grits, fists balled up behind him. You see his fingers attempting to reach the bottom of the knot but to no avail. He has no way out of this and he knows it. You’re watching the aphrodisiac kick into his system in real time.

His pupils expand when he looks up at you. His cheeks are slightly pink, and his bottom lip is underneath his teeth.

“Okay, okay,” you say, rolling your eyes. You reach for the hem of your shirt and pull it slowly past your stomach, then over your chest. You shake your tits in his face, and he leans forward, snapping his teeth, like a shark threatening to take a chomp out of your flesh.

“Quit playing with me, Y/N,” he says sharply. “I’mma fuck you up. Bruise your little uterus so bad.”

“Would love to see you try,” you crack, pulling the fabric off your head and shaking your hair free. You know just how bad your hair turns him on, how much he enjoys nearly ripping it from your scalp as he delivers painful backshots.

He jerks against the chair, causing you to jump a little. You turn around and sit on his lap.

Toji’s entire body stiffens. “God, why is my shit so sensitive?” The sentence comes out breathy, almost whiny. Toji never allows himself to switch, but you feel you may have unlocked the ten percent of him that likes to be submissive.

“What did you do?” he goes on. “You did something to me - fuck.”

And the moment you'd come clean, you were already bouncing deliciously on his cock, watching as he squirmed against his restraints and cussed in your ear.

"You're fuckin' dead," he keeps saying, before giving up and breaking into a pathetic little, "fu-uck. Mmh, yeah, ride me baby. Gonna fill you up."

"No you're not," you say, noting how his cock begins to twitch and using your knees to lift yourself up and slide it out of you, leaving your cunt pulsing with ache.

"What the fuck - get back here," he growls. His arms pull against the ropes, and you fear at any moment they're going to pop.

"This is payback, Toji." You look at your nails and then sit yourself back down, facing him with your cunt touching his cock but not allowing him the pleasure of being inside of it. "All those times you overstimulate me, or edge me.”

You lean forward and kiss him on the nape of his neck. He howls, jerking his cock up against you for even the slightest bit of pleasure.

You're just about to drag your teeth across the prominent vein in his neck when a terrifying shred! sound enters the air.

You sit up straight and stare down at Toji in horror, but his face has twisted into a sinister, knowing smile.

"You fucked up, you know that?" he questions, and before you can scramble off of his lap, his arms are around your body, capturing you against his chest.

The next few seconds are a blur. Before you can blink or breathe, the tip of Toji’s cock feels like it’s inside your intestines, your back against your bedroom door as he fucks you against it.

“A honey packet like I’m some booty call?” Toji gripes, drilling his hips into you so mean, that all you can do is slap your hands on his back for mercy. “‘Bout to turn your pussy inside out, demon brat.”

“Toji! Please,” you cry, trying to spread your legs on either side of his hips to make it feel like he isn’t going so deep, but his cockhead is so slick and fat that it’s threatening to crack you open.

His body being covered in oil is not working to your advantage. Your hands are sliding off of him, until you finally give up and take your hands in his hair, and he increases his speed because of it.

“I oughta chain you to the bed with a vibrator on your clit,” he threatens. “Since you wanna play with me. Fuck. So fucking creamy, ma.” His head falls to stare at your cunt as his cock drills in and out of it, white substance layering on his groin and between your folds.

“I’m sorry baby, I’m sorry,” you whine into his ear, “o-ooh. Shit.”

“‘Sorry baby,’” Toji mocks. “Yeah. ‘M sorry too. Sorry that you ain’t gonna be able to walk for a few days. Hold on tight, brat.”

SHOOT MY STEAM / GETO.

"Baby, can you pass me my bottle?"

The sentence you've been waiting to hear for about thirty minutes now.

You're at the gym with your boyfriend. You've been resting on the bench, watching him do his sets, waiting for him to ask for his water.

Suguru knows you always mix in his electrolyte packets for him, only this time, you'd found a convenient aphrodisiac powder to put inside instead. You wanted to see just how hot and sweaty he could really get with it flowing through his veins while he trained.

Only one issue with that: you’d accidentally forgotten about putting it in there, so you’d taken a fat swig a while back and now you’re paying for it as you sit and watch him.

"C'mon, monk, back on your feet," he says, taking a deep breath after chugging some of his water. He places it next to you and then reaches his hands out to help you stand. "'M gonna lose motivation if you're not up with me."

You swallow thickly and force a smile, before taking his hands and rising back up to follow him to the weights. Your body is tingling, cunt ripe with desire.

You decide to do some lunges to distract yourself while Suguru works on the lat pulldown, and you stare with heat in your chest as his back muscles flex under the cut-off sleeves of his shirt.

You think about your nails sliding over the sweaty skin to incite dangerous growls from your boyfriend, making him fall apart as he pumps you full of dick. Your head spins.

You attempt to shake the thoughts away and continue lunging until he finishes his pulldowns. When he stands, an erection is painfully obvious in his shorts.

He walks over to you, voice low. "Well, I guess this means I'm doing good," he comments, pointing to his new friend, and then gesturing to you. "It's also probably because your legs are looking good, angel. Damn."

You giggle and walk to drop off the weights. "Are you gonna be able to keep working out with... that?" You’re mostly asking for yourself, because if you’re forced to sit here and watch him workout with a boner, you may combust.

Suguru glances at himself in the mirror, rolling his shoulder blades. "It'll go away in a second. It's just all the blood pumping through me."

You blink. Your self control is dwindling but you try to redirect your focus. "'Kay, well I'll be over here starting some squats."

Suguru nods and pulls you in for a sweaty kiss, "Alright, love you."

God, you wish he hadn’t done that. Now everywhere his body touched you feels like a thousand needles. You want to grab him the minute he attempts to pull away, but you’re frozen in place, the fuzzy memory of his sweaty lips on yours making your panties damper.

And the next twenty minutes are history. You watch as Suguru loses more and more of his focus, his painful erection never coming close to dying. He slows down in his workouts, his eyes lingering on you much longer than before. You even watch him blink harshly, attempts running futile at pushing away his feelings. Then at last, he comes to collect you.

Now, you know it's a little unsanitary to be laid out over the sauna bench, Suguru leaning over you as steam and sweat drip from his locks.

You also don't care. The lust in his eyes, the furrow in his brow from where he doesn't understand why he couldn't wait to get home to do this is making your pussy throb around him.

"Fuck me," Suguru’s eyes roll back as he brings one of your slippery legs over his chiseled hip, sides of his cock gliding against your internal ridges. “Feels too fucking good, monk.”

All you can do is whine in response, as the subtle curve in Suguru’s dick causes it to poke the squishy roof of your tunnel. Your arms are trying to hold onto him, but with the steam, the two of you are just sweaty, wet bodies gliding against each other.

His abs rub over your belly and sensitive nipples, and he takes in the way each grind makes you gasp a little harder than before.

"F-fuck, Suguru," you whimper.

"Hah - ngh," he growls in your ear. "Don't say my name like that."

"S-Suguru," you repeat, feeling his nails attempt to dig into your skin before his fingers slide over your wet hips. "Wanna feel your cum."

He shakes his head, slinging water all over your face until you’re envisioning it being his warm semen instead. "N-No, feels too good, don't wanna cum yet."

You continue pushing him. "Cum for me, please?"

"No," Suguru spits, the end coming out breathy as he tries to compose himself.

"Please fill me up," you keep going, knowing that he won't be able to even if he tries.

"Baby," Suguru whines pathetically, but his strokes have noticeably gotten sloppier, needier. "Y-You have to stop."

You shake your head defiantly, before you crash your sweaty lips onto his. You moan against his mouth, taking his bottom lip between your teeth, piercing pressure onto it. His lips part as he continues slipping in and out of you.

Your bodies roll to the side on the sauna bench and continue going at it.

“Can’t get enough,” he mumbles against your mouth. “So wet for me, angel.”

It’s not long before you’re practically shoving him off of you, pussy sore and swollen. But he keeps holding you back onto his cock, making sure you nut on him as many times as he is able to drag it out of you.

Then, after concerns about your time spent in the sauna, you wrap it up - even though Suguru still hasn’t cum himself. But that doesn’t remain the case for long.

You find yourself pressed against the wet shower wall not even five minutes later, only a curtain hiding the two of you from the rest of the people in the bathroom. Suguru keeps his hand clamped over your mouth, whispering in your ear how good girls keep quiet, while making it impossible for you to obey.

And when he finally releases his thick cum all over your asscheek, watching as it instantly washes away under the hot water, he’s sticking it back in just a few seconds later.

Your brain is mushed with ecstasy from the powder, so you hardly notice that you’ve cum on his cock twice already, still ready for more.

GUMMY THROAT / GOJO.

“Want a hit?”

Shoko coughs and turns her wrist to hold her blunt out to you. You sit beside her on the couch and shake your head, holding up the bag in your hand.

“I’m good,” you grin. Inside the bag is edible gummies, which you’ve taken two of, and can already feel your toes stretching.

Shoko nods in understanding and passes it to someone else, leaning back against the couch with her eyelids laying low.

You check your pockets for your other bag, which has libido gummy bears, not edibles. This is the bag you’d handed to Gojo, watching as he’d devoured three obliviously.

“Satoru, you know you shouldn’t have eaten that many,” you’d scolded, trying to play along.

“Relax, my tolerance is higher than yours,” he’d quipped sassily.

But now that Shoko’s party has started to slow down, people disappearing in spurts, others sitting in corners or on the floor because they’re stuck, you and Gojo are having a staring contest - and you know what it means.

His eyes are wide and his fingers are restless. He’s sitting next to Suguru, who’s naively engaged in conversation with a pretty ginger. You’re pretending to ignore Gojo’s clear body language that says he wants to leave so that he can scramble your brains.

You giggle as your head falls on Shoko’s shoulder. Your body feels like it’s lifting off of the couch as the THC begins to flood through your bloodstream. All you can do is grip onto your skirt as if it’ll ground you.

Gojo stands from where he sits and struts over to you, his blue eyes appearing to glow with madness. “Y/N, get up,” he instructs, his voice commanding and unlike him.

“No,” you huff, nuzzling further into Shoko.

“Have it your way.” He reaches down and grabs your wrist, yanking you off of the cushions, and you can distantly hear Shoko laughing as Gojo puts his hand under your thighs and lifts you into his arms.

“Hey-!” you protest as you’re now being hauled princess style, his fingers pressing bruises into your skin with just how harshly he’s holding you.

“It’s way late,” he says. “And you’re high as hell. We need to go.”

“You’re being extra,” you scold, bopping your finger on his nose before letting yourself go limp against him. “Y’sure this is about it being late?”

“No, it isn’t,” he admits. “Watching you sit there and play with your skirt is making me lose my damn mind.”

“But I was hanging out with Shoko,” you pout, and realize he is not taking you towards any exits at all. He’s walking you to the back of the house, near the laundry room. “Gojo, what are you-?”

“I need your throat,” he blurts suddenly, glaring down at you with a compulsory twinkling in his eye. “Happy now? That’s what this is about. Need it so fucking bad.”

You giggle. The air feels crisp and your mind is so free. The room spins and you still feel like you’re floating.

“Okay, but be warned that I have cotton mouth,” you hold up a finger matter-of-factly. “May be a bit dry.”

He reaches the laundry room and pushes the curtain aside. If you were more sober, you’d realize how incredibly risky he’s being, but since you aren’t, you don’t care.

He puts you down in front of the washer, and wraps his fingers around your face, squishing your cheeks and forcing your mouth to open. In the same beat, he tuahs a mean glob of spit in your mouth.

“There,” he whispers. “That should help. Now I need you on your knees.”

He uses his grip on your face to push your head down until your knees collapse and you land on them. He releases you and you look up at him expectantly.

“All this for some head?” you taunt, placing your palms on his thighs. “Not that serious.”

“Yes it is,” he whines, “might die if I can’t shove my cock between those pretty lips.”

He leans down and swipes his thumb across your mouth, flicking your bottom lip and making your eyes flutter. You’re looking at him but not quite seeing him, as the gummies in your system have you spaced out. Your limbs feel like they’re stretching. You dig your nails into Gojo’s pants and he responds with an unearthly growl.

Your face is shadowed immediately, and upon focusing your eyes, you realize there's a fat, peachy cock looming over your face.

You gasp, watching as it comes down and taps you on the nose, fleshy and dripping in precum.

“Satoru-!” is all you can manage to say, as his tip grazes your cheek.

“Open up,” he instructs, and you part your lips slowly, expecting him to shove himself inside but instead he leans forward and sends another drop of saliva down your throat. “Just making sure it’s wet enough.”

“Y- mmh,” you're cut off, because Gojo has rammed the tip of his cock between your lips.

You part your teeth and wrap your tongue on the underside instinctually, eyes fluttering closed as you take in his salty taste.

"Speak up," he grunts, “you were being so bratty a minute ago.”

"Ngh - no," you gargle around his girth, saliva filling your mouth and making it hard to breath, pouring out of the sides of your cheeks and coating his shaft.

"Look at you, can't even take all of it," he taunts, pushing his hips deeper so that the tip begins to push down your throat, making you gag, your mouth becoming wetter.

Your eyes are hardly staying open. With your brain being so mellow, all that you can see or feel or taste is Gojo’s cock as it pumps in and out of your throat, bulging through your neck.

“So gummy,” Gojo purrs, putting his hands on the edge of the washing machine behind you. “Throat fits me so perfect, baby, y’know that?”

You can’t respond but the moaning attempt you make around his cock pulls a grunt from him. You know he’s being incredibly loud and obvious, but you can hardly scold him. The most you can do is crack your palms on his thighs, leaving tiny hand-shaped prints on the smooth skin.

“Hngh - what was that for?” he scolds before murmuring, “do it again.”

You smack his legs again and keep your eyes closed. You’re salivating all over his length and it drips down your chin, which is being abused by his heavy sac in repeated claps.

“Quiet,” you moan around his cock, as he’s letting out the most pathetic, desperate moans while you drive your mouth down to the base.

“N-No,” he grumbles, lifting his shirt up, before taking it between his teeth. You’re met face to face his with his perfect abdomen, glistening in droplets of sweat. “You suck me up so good, princess.”

Your eyes roll in pleasure at the name, eyes watering, mouth no longer dry. You don’t care if he wants to wake up the neighborhood; you just want to hear the delicious, sultry noises.

But right when you feel his dick twitch against the sides of your cheeks, you force your mouth off and swallow down the pool of saliva in the back of your throat. Your lips are wet and puffy as you part them and stare up at him.

“Gah - baby, why?” he quarrels, gripping tightly on your head.

You answer by leaning back forward and kissing his tip, sticking out your tongue and flicking it over the head before backing up again.

His knees nearly buckle, his grip on your head tightens.

“P-please don’t,” he whimpers. “S-suck it.”

“Mm-mm,” you mouth defiantly, wrapping your lips over the tip and gently pressing your teeth down; should he try to shove it deeper, it would only hurt him.

“Ngh - ‘m too horny for this, baby,” he growls. “Was so close.”

“Too bad,” you shrug, voice muffled because of the way you’re swirling your tongue over his slick pink tip.

His head falls forward, white locks dangling over his face as he tries to fight through his unbearably high libido. Your high has started to wear off but you can tell it’s going to be a long night for Satoru.

“Alright princess, I-I’ll remember this,” he coos from above, trying to push his hips towards your face but ultimately hissing and stopping when your teeth clamp down on the meat. “Goddamnit baby, what’s gotten into you? P-Please jus’ le’me cum.”

“Maybe,” you hum, taking him out of your mouth and using your spit to stroke his cock. “How bad you want it?”

“S-so bad,” he begs. “I’ll do anything.”

“Anything?” you question, running your thumb over his tip. “Hmm. You’re in charge of cooking dinner for a week. Deal?”

“Ah - fuck it, just please,” he whines, writhing under your touch, barely able to get his words out.

“Cum,” you say silkily, sticking your tongue to catch the salty, white ropes that waste absolutely no time shooting from his shaft.

He twitches under your grip until his high has ridden out, but you use his cum as lubricant to keep stroking his poor length.

“Okay, okay,” he whines. “I-I’m good now, agh.”

“You’re not good till I say so,” you gruff, until his hand comes under your chin harshly, and brings you to a forced standing position.

“I said I’m good, but if you think I’m not getting you back for that - you’re a stupid little thing, aren’t you?” He swipes his thumb over your cum-covered lips, and then licks it clean, before cracking you on the cheek. “Now, on your toes baby. And be quiet.”

A/N:

I’ve been trying to finish this for forever bro wtf is wrong with me

I’m fighting demons (writer’s block)

And also… I think I wanna write some Gojo fluff after #jjk271 because my baby deserves love and light good fucking bye.

all the love always!

~pennjammin

13K notes · View notes

thalwri · 2 months ago

Text

STUFF ME!

synopsis: your mission to collect intel on an auction seems to be going well until sylus catches an unexpected jealous streak.

warnings: porn no plot, couch sex, creampie, super loud possessive sex

wc: 1,2k

sylus was not a jealous man. he wasn’t.

he knew himself as a well assured person without much that could deter him. he knew you were capable of handling yourself well in any situation and that you were loyal to him just as he was to you.

but for some reason he couldn’t figure out why he felt a small agitating tick in his neck when he watched your flirt with an auctioneer to gather information for him. the way you smiled at him, the fact that his grimy hands touched you on your arm, his mere presence within your vicinity– it was maddening.

and that was why– just a floor above the auction hall in your hotel suite– he was balls deep inside you.

you hadn’t even managed to reach the bedroom before your clothes slipped off, your lips were attached to each other, and your hands wandered all over to places only you two had the privilege of touching.

your nails were deep enough to make sylus’ back bleed for how hard he was ploughing into you. his face was buried in your pretty breasts, swollen with arousal and slick from his tongue sucking harsh love bites onto you, bounced with each slap of your hips snapping together.

“sy– wait–“ you hiccuped but your pleas fell to deaf ears. you were overstimulated, overwhelmed and yet so hungry for more.

that relentless goal to drill his cock into you and stuff you until you were only capable of saying his name drove you insane. you didn’t think he’d get this jealous. you didn’t even know it was possible.

“i didn’t like– ah– how he was looking at you.” halfway through the route to painting you with his cum for the second time, sylus’s jealousy had long faded. now he was just relishing in enjoying you– enjoying the process of bringing you to exhaustion just from pleasuring you.

he gave your lips a long sloppy kiss, imagining torturing your clit with his tongue and feeling your walls tighten around his fingers. he knew how much you loved it, and he loved seeing you squirm. your tongues swirled and bumped, leaving you both so wet and hot.

“wanted– fuck, sy– wanted you to–“ you were babbling at that point reaching orgasm number three, all while feeling empty because he decided to punish you by cumming on you instead of deep inside knowing how much you loved it. he was being so, so cruel. leaving you so soaked with your only way of leaking on him is with your own slick and the ring of cream decorating his thick cock.

your back arched just as he bullied his tip consistently at that deliciously vicious pace right on your sweet, sensitive spot. and yet, it felt so tender at the same time. his lips peppered your skin like butterflies tickling your skin, his thumbs massaged your hips while his grip tightened in the gradual slip to lose control.

“so warm,” his hips pounded into yours at your favourite angle to the point where his heavy sacks were slapping your skin, making that familiar wet plap! plap! plap! noise with the squelches of your soaked pussy being rammed into. “you looked so good tonight, sweetie.”

you couldn’t do anything other than moan out, clawing your nails on his back, fruitlessly sucking on the muscle of his shoulder to not be so loud. the walls weren’t that thick and if room service came by to deliver the meals you had preordered earlier that night, they’d hear the most obscene sounds imaginable.

the most lewd cries and babbling rambles escaping your pretty lips.

“gonna– gonna cu– god, please sy!” you whined as your walls clenched around his cock for the nth time that night. if your teeth weren’t clamped onto his shoulder you wouldn’t have seen him almost vibrate from the feeling of your pussy almost sucking the cum right out of him.

“don’t worry– f-fuck–“ he moaned, slowly drawing back to plough his cock back into your weeping cunny. now he was just being mean. his eyes were slowly rolling back as he neared his edge. “ ‘m close too.”

it was just too good to pull out, too good to torture you more and more when he could sink deep in you nice and snug and decorate your walls like a fucking picasso. he just knew that image would beat any form of art. and that was just a loud reminder of how he was completely at your mercy. everything you wanted, he would give.

if his eyes could form heart shapes, he’d be the most love drunk, pussy drunk sucker that would do anything and everything for you. he wanted to spend hours tending to your needs and desires and satiating your insatiable greed for him.

his hand reached down to your aching clit to mercilessly rub circles and pinch at it like his favourite toy. a whimper slipped through your lips from the friction of your wetness between your clit and his fingers. if his relentless pounding wasn’t enough to tip you over the edge you were sure the stimulation to your raw bud would make you pass out.

your babbles turned into complete incomprehensible nonsense mixed with your lewd, slutty moans sounding like a symphony to sylus, just enough to give you one final thrust to bring you to an intense, explosive climax.

a hoarse cry ripped from your throat as your head threw back from the sheer pleasuring force, driving you into a pleasure-fuelled craze. not seconds after, thick hot cum spurted into you like a current washing into a shore.

your fluttering cunny took his seed squeezing around his cock to milk all of it out of him until he shot countless blanks. sylus continued to pound his cum deep into you, fucking you both through your orgasms.

felt so fucking good– so disrespectfully raw and nasty that you felt your stomach tighten and your hips buck against his, squelching the excess cum all over the couch.

as the thrill began to ebb away, your breathless pants evened out. you moved your hands to stroke sylus’ back in bliss, kissing all the areas you brutally marked and bit him. sylus gently returned the gesture with his massages around your hips, cock still hard, twitching and throbbing, leaking his cum into you.

“i got intel,” you murmured. he groaned into your neck, and indication for you to say more. “the auction’s a dud. the weapons are all rip offs.”

a deep chuckle rumbled into your skin. “knew it.” his grip on your hips tightened as he readjusted his position on the couch to throw your legs onto you before trapping you beneath him with his cock twitching with fervent desire.

“good job, sweetie,” he pecked your lips with satisfaction then kissed you again, swiping your swollen lips with his tongue. “i think i’ll take care of getting intel from now on.”

it was safe to say you weren’t going to go back to that auction. or leave the suite until you were stuffed to the brim.

a/n: lemme feed you guys some good straight up smut

#✧.* thalwri #✧.* thalwri works #sylus x reader #sylus smut #love and deepspace x reader #love and deepspace smut #lnds sylus #l&ds sylus #lads sylus #love and deepspace sylus #sylus #sylus love and deepspace #qin che #lads #lads smut #lnds smut

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sttoru · 10 months ago

Note

plsplsplspl soft intimate sex with satoru:(

𝝑𝑒 𝐓𝐀𝐆𝐒. gojo satoru x female reader. smut, pwp. unprotected. praise kink. spooning position. crēampie. cōckwarming. reader gets called ‘baby, pretty, sweetheart, princess’

“it’s okay, baby, i know,” satoru whispers words of comfort in your ear from behind. one of his arms is wrapped around your waist to keep your body close, the other circles your thigh, holding up your leg so his cock could slide in and out smoothly.

you’ve both just woken up from an afternoon nap, needy for each other’s touch. your lover’s raspy voice paired with his bedhead has been an irresistible combination.

satoru wasted no time in pulling your shorts down and freeing his erection from its confines. he went from rolling his hips against the fat of your ass and fondling your tits under your shirt, to burying his fat dick all the way up your cunt.

he’s so soft—so caring. his butterfly kisses make you drowsy again, the tingly sensations running from your face to your nape, and back down to your shoulders and upper arms. “let it out, yeah—good girl. don’t be shy,” satoru chuckles softly as he grinds his cock upwards, tip prodding at that sweet spot that makes your toes curl.

your eyes are half-lidded and blurry. you’re feeling so good and loved, so pleased and happy to have a partner like him. “right there, ‘toru,” you whimper quietly once you feel the head of his dick rub back and forth on the deepest parts of your velvety insides. satoru happily obliges, hugging your body even tighter to his chest before burying his face into the crook of your neck.

“here, baby?” the white-haired man asks, his hot breath sending a shiver down your spine as it ghosts over your skin. he keeps his dick balls deep inside you and switches to slow and shallow strokes, “y’re so pretty. you always know jus’ how to take it. so, so, so good.”

your hands are scrambling to hold onto the white sheets. you can’t physically take the amount of pleasure you’re getting, that inevitable peak gets closer and closer. your hips involuntarily jolt back against satoru, reciprocating his gentle thrusts. a big hand reaches out to yours that’s tugging at the covers, slender fingers intertwining with your own.

“m’sgood,” you mumble incoherently through a soft whimper. your back is positioned in a nasty arch that makes satoru’s dick tingle. he sighs against your nape before allowing his tongue to wet the skin, sucking on the same spot soon after. he does the same to your sensitive ears and neck—covering you with his love while also filling your body with the same.

satoru holds your hand tightly, squeezing it every now and then to reassure you. “i love you so much, y’know that, right?” he says in a gentle tone. he’s confessed his love to you so many times before, though he always makes it sound like it’s his first time doing so.

“i’m never letting you go, ever,” your partner promises before leaning over your shoulder to catch your lips in a kiss. satoru’s tongue sweeps over your bottom lip before rolling around in your warm mouth. his hips don’t stop, cock repeatedly appearing and disappearing inside of your pussy. the pace never escalates to make the moment last longer.

“mhmm— wanna b-be with you forever,” you mutter against his glossy lips, feeling safe and protected in satoru’s embrace like this. all you’re feeling, hearing and smelling is him. that’s what peace is for you. as long as you got him, you’re going to be just fine.

satoru smiles at your words. you feel so perfect around him, your cunt molded to fit his cock whenever he pleases, remembering its shape and allowing it to ruin your insides. “of course, sweets. i’ll treat you so well, ‘kay? you can count on me,” he comforts you with a forehead kiss.

“pretty girl. you’re perfect,” satoru continues to praise you like no other. his free hand runs over the small of your back and back to your thigh, keeping a gap between them so his cock can move a bit more freely. “let me hear your cute moans, c’mon. fuck, y’ turn me on so much,” he sighs, not knowing what he’d do without you.

satoru is obsessed with all of you. the combination of your personality and looks is heavenly. his lips never stop distracting you, his tender kisses covering your entire upper body. the lovey dovey atmosphere in the room never dulls even once.

“ah, ‘toruu, hnghh—can’t last f’ any longer,” you moan, your eyes nearly rolling back. your lover is all the evidence needed to let you know that sex doesn’t have to be rough to be good. he can make you cum for an infinite amount of times by simply grinding his hips against you—changing his techniques every now and then.

rolling his hips in small circles or simply pressing his cock all the way inside your cunt and then prodding at your sweet spots, is all what’s needed to make you feel like you’re on cloud nine.

“aww, my poor baby. can’t hold it in f’me?” satoru pouts before kissing your temples lovingly. he caresses your hip, other hand still not letting go of your hand. there’s such a deep connection between you two—no one can ever sever it. that strong bond feels more intimate when you’re merged into one like this.

“nooo, can’t,” you shake your head and whine about how close you are. satoru nods at your needy words and dips a hand down to rub your clit. his middle and ring finger move around the small bundle of nerves in circles. “khehe, that’s okay. let’s cum together,” he whispers as kisses find their way down your jawline.

you hum in agreement, little moans filling satoru’s ears as you get closer to your climax. your body trembles and heats up, your tummy tingles and tenses up. satoru’s in the same situation as you, his low moans turning into hisses and even quiet whines against the skin of your shoulder.

he holds you close, preparing both of you to reach your long awaited releases. “sh—shit, ‘m g’nna pull out, baby—give me a second,” you hear him whimper under his breath as his hand tightens its grip around yours. he’s nearly crushing your bones.

you don’t give him time to even think of pulling his cock out. you want to relive the sensation of having his seed spread inside of your cunt, overflowing until it’s dirtying the sheets. “no- ‘toru. inside, please,” you beg quietly as your pussy locks around his cock. your walls cling onto his dick, yearning to milk his heavy balls dry of every drop.

satoru gasps and hisses, trying to speak up, but getting overpowered by his own noises of desperation. “fuck, all right, princess. as you wish,” his voice is husky and deep as he pushes his cock in to the base before dumping his load inside you.

ropes of hot cum come out quickly, one after the other, filling you with a hot creamy liquid. you can feel every drop being drained inside your spasming cunt. your own cum mixes with his, creating a lewd mess between your thighs.

“th-thank you,” you whisper tiredly. your body relaxes in satoru’s embrace. you’re trembling due to the intense aftershocks and your lover wastes no time into kissing it better. your forehead is peppered with small pecks, the rest of your face following.

satoru giggles at your fucked out state. he gives you a head pat and nuzzles his face into the crook of your neck. you can feel him grinning uncontrollably against your skin—the joy emitting from him is contagious.

“any time,” he sighs. you can feel his cock softening after that release, still nestled deep inside of you. he has no intention of pulling out, especially since it’s so comfortable. you let him cum inside you and thus he’ll do everything to keep that hot load buried deep inside your cunt.

you can nearly fall asleep like this with satoru. you have zero complains and simply need to relax after what just happened. perhaps take another nap or two.

the white-haired man kisses your shoulder and rubs your lower tummy, enjoying the softness, “i’m gonna prepare us a warm, relaxing bath in a second. let’s just cuddle some more, baby.”

#sttoru writes.#jjk smut #jjk x reader #gojo smut #gojo satoru smut #gojo x reader #jjk x you #gojo x you #jjk x y/n #gojo x y/n #satoru x reader #satoru smut

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punkshort · 29 days ago

Text

Just This Once: Part Two

Pairing: dbf!joel miller x f!reader

Summary: Your dad surprises you after work with a brand new bed as a late birthday present. The kicker? Joel is there to help assemble it, leading to a very tense afternoon.

Warnings: no outbreak au, language, smut (18+ MDNI), age gap, phone sex (alluded to), sexual tension, references to masturbation (both), reader's mom is dead, reader has hair (length unspecified), size kink, unprotected piv sex, fingering, oral sex (f!receiving), dirty talk, sneaking around, mutual pining, takin' nudes

WC: 6.6K

Part One

Let me know when you get home safe

You smirk and collapse into bed.

I've been home for 20 min. What took you so long?

Then...

You roll your eyes and burrow deeper into your covers.

I thought you'd text me sooner. I left almost 40 min ago.

You wait anxiously for Joel to reply, staring at your screen for the words to appear. Truthfully, you have no idea what you even want him to say, just that you want to keep him talking.

I had no idea what to say

You grin and before you can reply, another text comes through.

Still don't

Butterflies bloom in your stomach as you type out your response.

Where are you?

It takes less than thirty seconds for him to answer: bed.

You're thinking about me in bed?

You can practically hear his heavy sigh from across the city.

We can't do that again, I told you

Do what?

Don't play dumb darlin - you know what

I just asked a question.

Your old man's got a shotgun in his basement, I've seen it

Your shoulders sag and you relent.

Ok ok.... it won't happen again and I won't breathe a word of it to anyone. Promise.

Good

And you think that's the end of it. After you don't reply to his last text and he doesn't add anything further, you roll over to switch off your lamp and you do your best to focus on falling asleep without thinking of Joel's deep brown eyes gazing up at you while you ride him, all hazy and filled with desire. You quickly find it's impossible not to and it has you tossing and turning while trying to ignore the fresh ache growing between your legs. You skirt your hand down past your sleep shorts with a frustrated huff when, to your delight, your phone lights up again.

What are you wearing?

---

It's Friday, fucking finally. Your entire week at work had been shit. You made one tiny mistake that ended up costing you three hours to fix, a mistake you don't normally make and you just know it's because you've been distracted.

It's been two weeks since you've gone to visit your dad, meaning it's been two weeks since you've laid eyes on Joel. That night you shared should have slowly become a distant memory, but instead you found yourself texting him every single day, making it impossible to forget. Sometimes it was innocent enough, but at one point or another the conversation always turned flirty, which then turned heated, which then evolved to one of you giving in and calling the other so you could whisper filth into the phone with your fingers stuffed inside your pussy, but no matter how much you try, you're never able to get as deep or make yourself feel as good as Joel did.

It's driving you crazy.

So when you arrive home from work Friday afternoon and throw your car into park, you're too distracted to notice a familiar pickup truck parked on the street. To be fair, you live above a restaurant, so there's often cars parked along the street. You've learned to block it out. But when you go to open your door only to find it already unlocked, your heart stutters in your chest and you glance around. That's when you spot your father's truck and you roll your eyes.

"Dad?" you call up the stairs from down below.

"Yeah, honey, up here!"

You close the door behind you and trudge up the stairs, dodging various pairs of shoes you store on the end of each step. Right when you turn to enter your kitchen, you hear your father talking and laughing with someone. You don't have much time to wonder who it is because then you hear his voice, all low and velvety smooth. The very same voice that just the night before was telling you through the phone how much he missed your perfect, soft pussy and then begged you for a picture.

It suddenly became impossible to breathe.

"Hey, Kiddo," your dad says when he steps out of your bedroom. He's carrying large cardboard pieces to the stairs and sweat coats his face. "Me 'n Joel are puttin' your new bed frame together. Almost done."

Him and Joel. Joel. Putting together your bed. Joel is in your bedroom.

Your skin feels like it's on fire and your blood is pumping so fast, it makes you lightheaded.

"Uh, w-what new bed frame?" you stammer, forcing yourself to move out of his way.

"The one I promised for your birthday," he calls over his shoulder from your stairwell. Your eyes rake across the kitchen towards your open bedroom door, but Joel is nowhere to be seen. "Sorry it took so long but I told ya I'd get to it."

"Oh," you say, "uh, t-thank you. You didn't - um - you didn't have to do that."

Your dad emerges from the stairs and your gaze sweeps back over to him.

"Sure I did. It's your birthday present. 'Sides..." He awkwardly rubs the back of his neck and looks to the floor when he says, "felt bad 'bout our fight. Wanted to make things right, check in on ya. Miss seein' you 'round."

"Oh, Dad, it's fine. I'm not mad anymore, I've just been busy with work and stuff," you say. He looks down at your work clothes: a thin blouse half tucked into an off-white pencil skirt and heels.

"Look so grown up," he murmurs softly. You give him a small smile and shrug, temporarily forgetting Joel is just in the next room until your dad says, "Don't my little girl look all grown up, Joel?"

Joel's standing in the doorway to your bedroom, staring at you across the kitchen. You swallow and tighten your fingers around the edge of your counter and you fucking pray your father doesn't read the hungry look in Joel's eyes when he slowly and appreciatively sizes you up and down.

"Yeah," he finally says, voice only a little gravelly. It could be innocent, but you knew better. He clears his throat and tries again. "Look real grown up."

You give him a smile, one you hope looks natural. "Thanks, Joel."

Your dad snorts and crosses the kitchen, heading back towards your bedroom to finish your bed frame. "Callin' him Joel now? Since when?"

Joel locks eyes with you and you see it. You fucking see that heated look he gives you, letting you know exactly what he's thinking about: you, grinding down on his lap and whispering little teases in his ear while calling him Mr. Miller.

"Oh, uh, I-"

"I told her to," Joel says over his shoulder once your dad disappears into your bedroom. Joel's eyes remain firmly pinned on you when he adds, "She's grown now 'n all."

Your eyes widen and you shoot him a look, but Joel just grins and turns back around, back into your fucking bedroom, to help your dad finish up.

Your head spins. This is not the way you wanted Joel in your apartment for the first time. You tiptoe in your heels to peek inside your room, where your father is sprawled out on your carpet with a wrench and Joel is holding your new padded headboard in place. Your dad is murmuring to himself as he focuses on securing the headboard to the rest of the frame but all you can focus on are Joel's massive hands curling around the beige fabric. You bite your lip and lean casually against the doorframe, allowing yourself to fantasize about Joel's grip on that headboard while he's pounding into you over and over and-

"I'm gonna order some pizza!" you exclaim suddenly. Your dad pauses and looks at you curiously but Joel just smirks. There's no possible way he didn't see right through you. Not with that smile and the way his cheeks tinted.

"Alright," your dad says slowly before focusing back on his work. You hurry into the kitchen and place an order from the restaurant downstairs, then anxiously look around. You're lucky your place isn't messier. At least your laundry is put away and the only dishes in your sink are from breakfast.

Still in your work clothes, you wander over to check your fridge, delighted to find that you have a few cans of beer left over from your friends.

In your bedroom, you hear your dad tell Joel he's all done. You hear shuffling and you imagine they are putting your bed back against the wall because next, they pop out of your room and head towards your living room, where your mattress and boxspring are temporarily being stored.

Joel tosses you a wink as he trails after your dad and you have to turn around and do the dishes so they don't see how flustered you are.

Your legs press together when you hear Joel's familiar grunts from somewhere behind you while he and your father struggle to drag your boxspring and then your mattress back in place. You're scrubbing a plate so fucking hard, you're surprised it doesn't shatter in your hands because you can't stop thinking about Joel and all the things you'd let him do to you if your dad wasn't there at that very moment.

"- you listenin' to me?" your father's voice says, causing you to jump and drop your sponge.

"Huh?"

You look at him, trying to ignore Joel next to him as he sheds his flannel and plucks loosely at the black t-shirt underneath, unsticking it from his sweaty chest. Fuck.

"Said Joel's gonna take the trash out and I'm gonna go grab that pizza. How long they say it'll take?"

You blink, blood singing hot in your veins when you mumble should be ready soon, then slowly dry your hands on a towel while your father and Joel collect the trash from your bed frame to take down to the dumpster.

Your apartment is silent for a few minutes after they disappear outside, the only sound coming from your heart pounding steadily in your ears as you wait for the door downstairs to open again.

When you hear the squeaky hinges open and close, then the dull, slow thud of his footsteps climbing the stairs, you remain stock still at your sink. Your fingernails press so hard into the stainless steel, it's a wonder they don't break. You can't bring yourself to turn around when he steps through the door, back into your kitchen. He told you it couldn't happen again and you agreed, but your phone calls the last two weeks spoke otherwise.

Without saying a word, Joel's on you in an instant, spinning you around and crashing his mouth hungrily against yours, driving away that little voice in the back of your head that keeps reminding you just this once, just this once.

You nearly crumple in his arms, feeble fingers digging into his shoulders for something to hold onto. His tongue slips past your lips with a groan and his hands grab eagerly at your blouse, bunching up the fabric in his fists, too fucking crazed and desperate to feel you again.

You whimper and he swallows it down, big hands releasing your shirt to travel lower and grab at your ass confined in your tight skirt. His skin is slightly damp with sweat and he tastes so good and feels so warm that it has you guiding his hand to the zipper of your skirt, encouraging him to pull it down.

"Can't," he mumbles before latching his mouth onto your neck.

You're impatient. You rake your fingers through his tousled hair and he sighs against your throat.

"Y'smell so good," he says, body pressing against yours, pinning your back to the edge of the counter.

"Joel-" you beg, but he keeps talking and his hands keep searching, grabbing for any part of you he can find.

"Been half hard since I got here," he admits, the confession sending a shock of arousal straight through your stomach and down to your core. "Got any idea what it was like for me to be in that room, movin' that mattress, knowin' you were fuckin' yourself right there last night?"

You gasp and claw at his hair, his neck - anywhere - while his mouth drags down the column of your throat. He ruts his hips against your stomach and you squeak when you're reminded of just how fucking big and thick he is. You drop your hand and rub your palm against the soft denim, over his impossibly hard cock caged in his jeans, and you whine in his ear. A wordless plea.

"Can't," he says again, but his hips buck forward, chasing your hand. He pulls you closer, his teeth scrape your jaw, and then his lips are seared over yours once again, smearing whatever remains of your lipstick.

Joel gasps and breaks the kiss but keeps his hips firmly pressed into your palm. He looks down at you like he wants to swallow you whole, his brown eyes so dark they look nearly black. One hand lifts to get tangled in your hair as you both fight every impulse to tear each other apart right then and there.

"I'll ... I'll call you tonight-" he begins, voice sounding pained. You shake your head. His grip in your hair tightens.

"No, Joel, please," you beg. Not another phone call. If you didn't know any better, you sound as if you're on the verge of tears. He sighs and presses his forehead to yours, his wet lips hovering over your mouth when you say, "it's not enough. I need you. Please, Joel, I can't-"

The door downstairs swings open and you fucking fly apart. Joel's eyes, which were just filled with lust, now are wild with panic.

"Go to your bedroom, y-your hair and-" he waves his hand in front of his mouth and you hurry away as he's wiping the lipstick from his own mouth, closing the door behind you. A few seconds later, the door to your kitchen opens and you hear your father's voice. With trembling hands, you unbutton your blouse and unzip your skirt so you can change into more comfortable clothes while you hear plates being pulled from your cupboard. Your dad is telling Joel some story about the customer ahead of him in line who was asking every question under the sun about the ingredients in their sauce as you pull on a soft pair of leggings and an oversized shirt.

Before joining them for dinner, you tug a brush through your hair, taming the mess Joel's hand left behind, and wipe off the lipstick from your mouth and cheek. Once you think you look somewhat normal, although internally you might be on the verge of a fucking stroke, you take a shaky breath in and step out of your bedroom.

"Hey! There she is!"

You give your dad a weak smile and head for the fridge, avoiding Joel's eye but feeling his stare burning into your back.

"Here, I have a few of these," you say, grabbing the cans of beer and putting them on the table. "Some friend left them behind, I think."

Joel is sitting at your small, round kitchen table next to your father with an untouched piece of pizza on his plate. Meanwhile, your dad is nearly halfway through his first slice. You pull a glass from your cupboard and fill it at the sink, using the opportunity to take deep breaths and calm your nerves.

Unfortunately, when you turn around, Joel locks eyes with you and you feel as though you may melt into the floor. His fists clench tight on the table and you wouldn't notice unless you were looking for it, but his chest rises quicker than usual and there's a pink tint to his cheeks.

You sink into the chair across from him and shakily pick a piece of pizza from the box. You're hungry but you're so fucking turned on, it's hard to think about anything else. The pull between your legs is so uncomfortable, it has you shifting your weight in your seat while you take a few small bites of food. Joel must be feeling similarly because out of the corner of your eye, you finally see him slowly unfurl a fist and pick up his pizza.

"You seein' someone?"

Your eyes snap up to your father and you freeze. "What?" you ask breathlessly.

He points to the beers before grabbing one and cracking it open.

"You said a friend left 'em. You seein' someone new?"

Your throat closes up. You shake your head and take a bite of pizza so you can avoid elaborating. Across from you, Joel stiffens but remains silent. Your dad chuckles and he elbows Joel, snapping him out of his trance.

"'Member when we'd sit on the porch, waitin' for her dates to bring her home?"

"That only happened, like, twice," you mumble.

"Boys need'ta learn early on not to mess 'round and have some manners. Kept 'em in line," your dad continues, grabbing another piece of pizza. "Say the word and I can do it again-"

"How about you, Dad?" you ask, cutting him off. You can practically feel the tension radiating off Joel's shoulders from the direction the conversation was heading, and you need to put a stop to it. "Are you seeing anyone?"

The distraction is sufficient. Your dad launches into a ten minute monologue about his dry dating life while you and Joel do your best to act interested. The last fucking thing you want is for your dad to scare Joel off by reminding him of his fierce, protective side. Like he isn't already aware.

But perhaps you were too late because after they both finish eating and say their goodbyes, Joel can't look you in the eye. Something tells you that it isn't because he's trying to hide his attraction for you. You can't put your finger on it. Something about his body language and energy just seem... off. And then sure enough, hours later when you are distracting yourself with television after sending Joel multiple unanswered texts, you think your suspicion is correct.

---

A loud pounding on your door wakes you from a deep sleep. You startle awake with your heart in your throat. Your television is still on, forgotten, just like your phone buried somewhere in your sheets. You stumble out of bed after another knock that threatens to bring down the entire building and squint at the microwave to check the time.

Just past two in the morning. What the fuck?

You are about to go downstairs when logic prevails and you go to your window, instead.

The only car on the street is Joel's truck, right in front of your building.

Shit.

You fucking race to your bathroom and gargle with mouthwash for about three seconds. As you are hurrying down the stairs, you comb your fingers through your hair, hoping you look decent enough but knowing deep down it wouldn't really matter.

When you open the door, a shiver shoots down your spine.

"Joel," you barely get out before his crowding you, pushing you up against your stairs, mouth already devouring yours as he kicks the door shut behind him.

You curse, but it's muffled. His mouth is hard and insistent against yours, almost like he's angry, but not at you. His hands scan your body, over your pajamas, your face, your exposed skin, while his tongue explores your mouth. It's familiar now, for you both, under the cover of night once again, where your secret can remain safe.

It's a miracle you make it up the stairs without falling. You don't remember his mouth or hands ever leaving you as you stumble through your kitchen and into your room.

The television still plays in your otherwise dark room. Flickering lights dance across the walls, soft syndicated laughter is registered in the back of your brain. He untangles one hand from your hair and the other he pulls from underneath your shirt, then he takes a step back. You both drag in air, panting and studying each other's faces. His cheeks look flushed and your skin feels just as hot. Hair equally wild. The energy between you is palpable, crackling like electricity.

"Thought you got scared off," you say, breaking the silence. He blinks.

"Why?"

You shrug, already wishing you had waited til later to bring this up.

"You seemed weird when you left."

His throat bobs and he shakes his head, then his gaze shifts to your chest before finding your eyes again.

"Just needed to get the hell outta here 'fore he noticed somethin' was goin' on."

You nod slowly. Oh. So maybe you're a little paranoid. It doesn't explain the unanswered texts, but you don't feel much like talking anymore.

You dip down, crawling backwards onto your bed and whisper his name, dropping your head onto your pillows with a sigh, then fight back a smile at the greedy way his eyes rake up and down your body.

"Come here," you say quietly. You reach your arms out and wiggle your fingers. His dark eyes lock with yours and you grin.

His hands fall to his belt and warmth pools low in your stomach, deep between your legs. You squirm impatiently when he slowly slides the leather through his belt loops.

"Just..." he begins, pausing when you sit up to toss your shirt over your head, leaving your chest bare to him. He swallows hard and continues. "Just one more time."

You would have agreed to anything in that moment, so you nod while he pushes his jeans down to the floor before lowering himself to your bed. He crawls over you and your legs spread so his hips can settle there, pressing against your aching cunt. His arms tuck underneath your shoulders and just the weight of him pressing against your chest and pushing your legs apart is so fucking exquisite that it has your own hips circling for friction. You moan into his mouth when his lips find yours again and everything feels right, so fucking right, that tears burn the back of your eyes.

"Bad girl," he murmurs against your lips. Your fingers card through his thick, wavy hair and you smile. "Textin' me when I'm out with your old man. Coulda got me killed."

"You - what?" you breathe, tipping your head back so he could leave wet, open mouthed kisses along your throat. He sucks a little mark over your pulse point and then his lips find yours again before answering.

"Went out for a few beers after we left," he says while tilting his head to the opposite side. His tongue glides back inside your mouth and you taste it now, the remnants of the drinks he had earlier. Your fingers in his hair tighten. Relief washes over you.

You decide to ignore how obviously desperate you are for Joel's attention - something you know is a bad sign. Instead, you sigh and rut your hips upwards a little harder, pulling a low groan from his throat.

"Did you have fun?" you ask with a teasing grin. He picks up on it and growls, then palms your hip, squeezing the soft skin there, pulling you closer.

"Not as much fun as I'm havin' now."

You giggle when he pinches you and you try to squirm away, but you're still pinned helplessly underneath his broad frame.

Joel laughs, too, before leaving a trail of gentle kisses across your chest. It feels so loving and sweet that it has your breath catching in your throat even before his mouth latches onto your breast, tongue teasing your nipple with a satisfied hum before doing the same to the other.

"I missed you," you whisper boldly, pulse thrumming fast in your throat as you wait for his response. Is it too much? Maybe. But it's true.

"Was just here a few hours ago," he says. You roll your eyes.

"Not what I meant."

Joel sighs and rests the side of his head against your chest. You're absolutely certain he can hear how fast your heart is racing. He wraps his arms around you a little tighter when he admits, "Me, too."

And it's enough, for now, to know he craved you the same way you craved him.

His hand skids down your bare side, leaving a trail of goosebumps in his wake, until one finger hooks around the lace edge of your panties and gives them a playful tug. You pull your lower lip between your teeth and lift your hips so he can slide them and your shorts down your legs.

You become very aware you are stark naked underneath Joel Miller for the very first time while he somehow still has on his t-shirt and boxers. He pushes off the mattress and looks down to admire you all sprawled out for him and you feel a rush of embarrassment. That is, until he says-

"So fuckin' beautiful."

His voice is soft and filled with so much awe that you just might believe him. His gaze skims every inch of your exposed skin: your arms, your waist, your thighs. Like he's trying to memorize every little thing he sees.

"I want you," you gasp when his fingers delicately graze the inside of you leg. His deep brown eyes lift and he smirks when his fingers trail closer and closer to where you need him most.

"Yeah?" he asks. His voice sounds deeper and your legs begin to shake. His fingertips brush over your slit and you gasp again, body writhing on your bed - the bed he helped fucking build. You nod and lift your hips.

"Please."

Joel tuts and pushes one thick finger through your folds. He circles over your entrance but doesn't go any further. He just slowly slips his finger through your pussy, dragging it up, up, up until he's pressing down on your clit and you're moaning his name with your eyes squeezed shut.

"This what you want?" he breathes, arousal evident in his voice. You nod enthusiastically, chest heaving as he continues his slow, torturous route. Then he removes his finger and you whine in protest until your eyes reopen. He slips his finger into his mouth with a quiet groan, eyelids fluttering and you imagine his tongue swirling around, collecting your slick and swallowing it down.

You're afraid you may go insane if he doesn't fuck you soon.

"Joel-"

"I gotta- fuck," he moans before dropping onto his hands and settling his shoulders between your thighs. He pushes open your legs, spreading you wide so he can admire your glistening cunt up close. His teeth nip your inner thigh but his eyes remain glued to your center. "I gotta taste you, darlin'," he says, and it's amusing how he actually sounds filled with regret when he says it. You would have laughed if his lips didn't suction around your pussy a second later, tongue plunging through your folds just to flatten and circle your clit with the perfect amount of pressure to make your back arch off the mattress.

Your eyes roll to the back of your head and you moan his name. Your body is so wound tight, not only from earlier when he had you pinned against your kitchen counter with your father just downstairs, but from weeks without his touch.

"Can't believe how good this tight little pussy takes my cock," he mumbles, face buried between your legs, eyes closed.

Your thighs tremble underneath his hands, which are splayed wide, thumbs parting your lips to make way for his tongue. One of your hands snakes down to get lost in his messy hair, the other grips the sheets for dear life while Joel eats at your center with more enthusiasm than anyone else who has been in his position. By a mile.

His beard burns the inside of your thighs and in the back of your mind, you hope you'll still feel it in the morning. You're so desperate for any reminder of the way he tears you apart that you'll gladly embrace the discomfort.

Every time his warm tongue glides through your folds, he moans. Your face feels like it's on fire when you grind your hips onto his mouth, gasping and dragging in air like you're drowning. He seems to love it. Every roll of your hips causes him to squeeze the meat of your thighs, and when you whimper his name, all rough and needy, his tongue works even faster. He licks and sucks and moans into your cunt, and when he slides two thick fingers inside of you with ease, you curse and dig your heel into his back.

"Fuck," he whispers when he pulls his face away to catch his breath. He stares down at his fingers buried deep, watching the way you stretch for him, suck him in. His eyes go dark when a thick drop of your arousal slips down his fingers, pooling between his knuckles.

"Wish you could see the way this perfect pussy opens up f'me," he murmurs, still entranced.

You don't even think. Your mind is a hazy blur, heart thrashing in your chest at the way he holds you right on the brink of your release. So, you say, "Show me," and point to the Polaroid next to your bed.

Joel's eyes flicker, following your hand, and he grins.

You had been tinkering with it the past few days, trying to fix the blue marks that were showing up on all your photos. After cleaning the rollers and checking the expiration date on the film, you figured out a film shield was the answer and you had been taking test shots in your room since it had the best lighting.

Could he have taken pictures with his phone? Sure. But something about the way he handled the clunky camera with one hand was so fucking hot, you're eternally grateful you abandoned it on your end table.

He takes one picture, then two. The familiar whir of the rollers fills the air, drowning out the television behind him, then the photographs spit out, one at a time. You writhe a little when his attention gets drawn to the pictures and his hand between your legs stall. He waits about thirty seconds for them to develop, then without even showing them to you, he growls and drops them into the sheets. His mouth suctions over your pussy again and you gasp. He sucks and flicks his tongue over your clit while his hand pumps steadily into you, curling his fingers, making you nearly scream if it isn't for how fast and hard you're breathing.

"Joel-" you gasp, "Joel, I'm - I'm gonna -"

You struggle to finish your sentence but it doesn't matter. He knows. Joel hums between your thighs and works faster, devouring your cunt and dragging your orgasm out of you. Your body tenses and you cry out his name, but he doesn't let up. Not until your legs clamp the sides of his head does he remove his fingers to drink down every drop of your release, then he finally lets his jaw relax.

You're seeing stars. You have to be covered in sweat and you probably look insane, with your hair and eyes all wild while you lay there, completely fucked out.

He must enjoy it, though, because next thing you know he's covering you with his body once again. His lips are on yours and all you can taste and smell is you, but you aren't repulsed. In fact, you find you really fucking like it. When it's on him, when your taste and scent is mixed with Joel's, it's intoxicating.

"Shoulda done that last time," he rasps. He leans back to sit on his knees and tugs off his shirt, letting it fall somewhere on your floor. You blink and try to admire his bare chest while he's kicking his boxers off, but it's hard to focus. Then, just as fast as he sat up, he's back on you once again. His breath skips when he glides the tip of his cock through your folds, then rests against your opening. You're still struggling to come back to earth, body lax and sated and so fucking warm underneath him. He groans brokenly into your neck when he presses inside, reveling in how easily you welcome his cock now that he already worked you open with his mouth and fingers.

You make a soft noise and circle your arms loosely around his neck. There's no need to go as slowly as last time. You're so fucking soaked, you're more than ready for him, but he still takes his time. He holds your hip steady with one hand as he feeds you his cock, inch by inch, parting your walls and sighing against your dewy skin.

"Shit," he groans. His teeth pinch your throat when he bottoms out and you gasp. "This what you want? Needed my cock that bad?"

"Yes," you whimper, "Christ, Joel - yes."

He drags himself out and plunges back inside you with a rough grunt. Your legs fall open wider, giving yourself up to him entirely.

His beard is scratchy and it tickles your skin, making you shiver when his mouth traces the edge of your jaw. He fucks you slow and deep, like he wants to make it last, like he wants you to remember. Your lips find his shoulder and you leave a path of open mouthed kisses across his tanned skin. And when your tongue darts out to taste him properly, he groans and rolls his hips deeper.

It's perfect and intense and it's everything you could ever want.

"Jesus, look at you," he says. But you look up at him, instead. He looks how you feel - needy, wrecked, and desperate. Then his eyes fall between your bodies, where his cock slides in and out of you, coated in your arousal, and you groan when you see what he sees.

Look at us, you want to say, but you bite the words back. It feels like it's too much. But you think it. How could you not, when you seem to fit together so perfectly?

With his voice smooth and soft as velvet, he says, "Dirty girl... thinkin' 'bout me fuckin' you like this with your daddy in the room."

Your cheeks burn and you try to swallow, but your throat is too dry. When you meet his gaze, he looks different. He's worked up and his eyes are pitch black. His hips start to pound into you faster.

Your throat tightens.

"I- fuck," you choke out when he brushes up against a particularly sensitive spot. You try again. "Y-you're the one who kissed me whe-"

Joel chuckles and shakes his head, dark curls falling loose across his forehead.

"I saw the way you were lookin' at me 'fore all that," he goads, then leans down to nip at your earlobe before adding, "When we were puttin' together the bed. Tell me what you were thinkin' 'bout."

You whine and pitch your head back into your pillow. You can already feel your hips ache from how fast and hard he's fucking into you now. It has your breath stuttering and your eyes rolling to the back of your head.

When you take too long to respond, his mouth suctions over your breast. His teeth leave a sharp bite on your nipple and you yelp.

"Tell me," he says again. You shudder, breath too shallow and quick to answer, so you grab one of his arms and lift it above your head. You press his hand around the padded headboard and he gets it. The smirk he gives you is deadly when plants his other hand into the mattress for leverage.

Your legs wrap around his waist and he starts to slam into you. Each thrust knocks the air from your lungs. He pushes you further and further up the bed until the top of your head hits the headboard. Joel sees it and he drops to his elbow. The hand that was pushing into the mattress is now cupping the top of your head and you think you might implode from the way his arm curls protectively around you while the other is gripping your headboard so tight, you can see the tendons twitching in his wrist.

"Like this?" he grits out. You nod, mouth agape and brows furrowed. Tears spring to your eyes as you teeter on the edge. He sees them and kisses them away when they fall. Ultimately, it's the hours and hours of pent up frustration that have you coming so hard, your vision goes white. But it's the combination of how rough he's fucking you and how sweet he's holding and kissing you that has your cunt pulsing around his cock, dragging out your orgasm for what feels like an eternity.

"Fuck," he gasps. His fingers tighten around the crown of your head and you feel his bicep flex along the side of your face. "W-where? Where, baby?"

His voice sounds urgent but you still take a second to soak in the word baby before murmuring inside, just like before.

He doesn't hesitate. He comes a moment later, yanking on your headboard for support with a loud groan. You hear it rattle and you plant kisses on the underside of his jaw, hoping to melt away some of the tension being held there.

His hips flex forward erratically, each push paired with a heavy grunt until he finally stills. His hand drops from the headboard and his face tucks into the crook of your neck.

You feel his breath fanning across your sweat soaked skin and you close your eyes. There's no rush, this time. There's no risk. So you lay there and catch your breath with Joel's massive body pinning you into the mattress and heavy cock softening inside you.

"Goddamn," he murmurs in between light kisses to your collarbone. You hum and soothingly run your palms up and down his back with your eyes closed. He shivers when your nails graze his spine and he holds you a little tighter. You swear you could fall asleep, just like that.

Joel begrudgingly lifts himself up to slide out from between your legs. His eyes flicker with something dark when he sees his seed leaking out of your spent cunt, but he blinks it away and rolls onto his back with a tired groan.

"Just need a second and I'll get goin'," he assures you. His forearm is thrown over his closed eyes and you take the opportunity to study his broad chest and soft belly in the glow from your television. God, he's so handsome. How did you not see it before?

"Why don't you stay?" you ask, voice raspy and thick. He peeks at you in surprise and drops his arm to his side.

"Yeah?"

You remember his comment last time, about his house feeling lonely, and it pulls at your heart. "Yeah," you say, shifting onto your side and wrapping an arm around his middle. You nuzzle into his chest and he drapes an arm around your shoulders.

"Okay," he says softly. "But next time, we're figurin' out a way f'you to stay at mine. Want you wrapped up in my bed, feedin' you breakfast."

"Next time?" you repeat, unable to keep the eagerness from your voice. "What happened to just this once?"

The hand drawing aimless circles on your arm stills.

"It... I - uh -"

You lift your chin and shoot him a sly smirk.

He rolls his eyes but you see the corners of his mouth twitch.

"Just go to sleep," he mutters. He sounds annoyed but you know better.

You close your eyes with a smile and his hand resumes stroking your arm.

Deep down, you know what you're doing is so much more complicated than what you're willing to admit within your four walls. Maybe you'll figure it out, maybe you won't. But neither of you are willing to think about that tonight. Because tonight, away from familiar, judgmental eyes, you're just two people seeking comfort in each other.

And it's enough.

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ihatethecrowdsyouknowthat · 2 months ago

Text

juno - spencer reid x afab!reader

reader finds out how good spencer is with kids and can't keep the thoughts from pouring in

requested!

genre: fluff, smut wc: 2179 warnings: established relationship, daydreamer!reader, talk of pregnancy, p in v, unprotected sex(duh), brief breeding kink, i love yous, reader has hair?

my first time ever writing smut!!! keep your pitchforks to yourself please!!!

You've known for a long while of your boyfriend's affinity for the young souls out there. Perhaps he was one of them. Perhaps he was just an overgrown one of them. It was something spoken about early on, his love for kids. He mentioned that he's the godfather of his coworker's little boy and how he's always wanted one of his own. A boy or girl, it doesn't matter. As long as he got to raise one with the fatherly love he never quite received.

That was all fine and well to know until you actually got to see Spencer with a child. Babysitting Henry was supposed to be a way of letting JJ and Will have some fun for once. It turned out to be much more confusing. He was sweet, gentle, and spoke in a soft tone that drove you oddly insane. When he started doing card tricks, you thought your heart would explode.

That's why right now you're sitting in the car completely silent. You've never been one to shut up so it's no surprise that he knows something is off. It's not your fault that you're suddenly lost in an alternate reality in which you're in a large house with a small baby. Maybe two. It's not like you wanted to get started right away. Nonetheless, something about the idea was appealing.

"Are you okay?" Spencer asks softly, eyes narrowed.

Technically, yes, you're fine. Too many thoughts but fine.

"Yeah, of course," you hum. "You were really good with Henry today."

A bright smile breaks out on his lips as he lets out a breath that's just barely a laugh. "You think?" his brows furrow, glancing over at you almost nervously.

You nod, shoulders loosening. "I do." While fiddling with your necklace, you add, possibly with too much meaning, "you'll be a really good dad."

His face turns red and he focuses on the road. Before long, the thoughts swarming in that head of his refuse to stay inside and he speaks gently, "is that what you're thinking about?"

A topic you've talked about—your tendency to daydream. It's not a thing you've kept hidden. In fact, it's your favourite pastime. However, it's a little awkward to tell your boyfriend that you're imagining him getting you pregnant.

But you were never a good liar.

"Yeah," you admit, fingers still at the pendant on your chest, eyes watching the passing scenery and streetlights.

"And?"

To that, you're not sure there's any response that doesn't seem insane.

"And what?" you ask cautiously.

After a quick glance in your direction as if he's testing the waters, he clarifies, "are you opposed?"

"To what?"

"Kids."

Oh. Well, no, not in the least. The idea of raising a family with Spencer is thrilling and you believe it's something you do want. You've always liked kids and kids have always liked you but the thought of seriously settling down has never truly crossed your mind. Until now, you suppose.

You shake your head, eyes lingering on his jawline. "No. You know that," you mutter softly.

"I do... but we've never talked about it. Just because you like children doesn't mean you necessarily want them," Spencer says like it's the most simple thing.

"True." The singular word is almost impossible to hear. You add gently, "but, I do."

He nods, turning his head to look at you in a way slightly different than all the other times. You can't quite place it, though. What you do know is that it definitely caused some major butterflies in your stomach. Then again, that happens a lot. But when his right hand moves from the steering wheel to your thigh, you're sure that look meant something. Something good, you think.

You're even more sure when, the moment you get to his apartment, he kisses you deep, lips parting to make way for his tongue. It's not rough at all. Loving, mostly. Like he's ensuring that you know you're cared for. You smile wide, unable to stop the giggle from leaving. Pulling back with an equally lovesick smile, he laughs, "what?"

Hardly a second later, you place another peck to his still grinning lips before answering with a bright, "what's going on?"

His eyebrows raise. "Nothing... I don't know what you mean," he says in easily a whole octave higher than usual. Your eyes narrow as you search his eyes.

You beg dramatically, "tell me."

He sighs then runs his fingers through his hair, unsure if he wants to bring it up. "About what you said... in the car... you meant it?"

"What I said...? About kids?"

Spencer nods. "Yes."

"I meant it, yes." It's spoken hesitantly. You're not positive where this conversation is heading.

"I just... like the thought," he shrugs, leaving you to walk towards the bedroom.

Really confused and a little intrigued, you follow, watching him start to unbutton his cardigan. "The thought?" you hum, crossing your arms in an attempt at nonchalance.

"Of you... pregnant," he mumbles like he doesn't want you to hear, letting the piece of clothing fall to the ground before picking it up to put it in his laundry bin.

He didn't need to say it like that. He could've said the thought of starting a family, of having a child. You're not a profiler but the way he decided to word the sentence makes you think something bigger has been revealed. Freudian slip or intentional, he's not telling you everything that's on his mind.

"Pregnant. Really?" You picture it and, perhaps it's because you'll be the one carrying it, but all you seem to be able to picture is chubby ankles, morning sickness, and mood swings.

Simply, Spencer nods, eyes finally meeting yours. You smile up at him sweetly as his hands come to cup your face. "There's just—I don't know... something appealing about it. About being the one to..."

Now, you get it.

"Oh. Like—oh! So, that's what...?" you babble purely out of shock.

Who knew Spencer Reid had the fantasy of impregnating you floating around in his brain?

His hands drop to your shoulders, squeezing gently. "Does that make you uncomfortable? I'm sorry, I didn't mean to—just forget—"

To his surprise, you cut off the soon-to-be-ramble with your lips on his. It takes a second for him to understand what's happening but he does, mouth moving against yours eagerly, his hands sliding up to your face. While smiling, you drag your hand down his neck and to his tie, tugging it loose. Once he clues in to where you want this to go, his fingers slip under your shirt, gripping your waist firmly. The tie comes off, dropping to the floor and, soon enough, your shirt's gone, too.

He takes a few steps to the bed before lowering you onto it carefully. As if handling glass, he glides his hand down your stomach, to the button of your jeans.

"Can these come off?" he pants against your lips.

Nodding desperately, you whisper, "yeah."

With a nod back, Spencer unbuttons the jeans and pulls them down your legs. His palms slide up your thighs as he presses another kiss to your mouth. "Go lay down?" he suggests softly.

You comply immediately, moving up on the bed and laying your head on the pillows to watch him undo his shirt one button at a time. Next, his belt comes off. And then his pants. When he's left in only boxers, he positions himself above you before kissing down your neck. Your back arches and he uses the opportunity to move his fingers to the clasp of your bra.

You aren't at all unfamiliar with his skill but, every time, it continues to catch you off guard how, in a few minutes, you're at his mercy, willing to do anything he asks of you. Then again, when are you not?

He tosses the bra aside to join the rest of the discarded clothes on his bedroom floor. His attention is, of course, then drawn to your chest, one of his hands grabbing at you while the other suddenly starts small circles over your underwear.

"Spencer, I don't need that," you mutter breathily. You don't really want his hand at the moment.

His head lifts from your neck, placing a sweet kiss to your cheek. Spencer asks quietly, "are you sure?"

There isn't much you're capable of doing at the moment so you nod. He takes the answer and hooks both index fingers into the waistband of your panties. His eyes fall directly to the newly revealed area the same way they always do, adoration spilling out of him at the sight of the collecting wetness. A small smile on your face, your hands drift down to take off his boxers.

With the last barriers removed, your lips connect again and his hand moves to line himself up with you. The kiss breaks when he looks down to watch himself push into you, a whimper leaving you and a shaky breath leaving him. He quickly bottoms out and you whine.

Softly, he murmurs, "you okay?"

"Yeah, just," you laugh, "...full."

Spencer breathily chuckles with you, nodding like he's trying to get himself together. "Right."

After a deep breath, his hips start slowly, letting both of you adjust to the feeling of each other again. No matter how many times you do this, you still always need a minute to get used to him. Your breaths come out in gentle pants and occasional whimpers until he speeds up and you can't contain yourself. Desperate moans of pleasure spill from your lips as he moves.

"Doing so good—feels so good," he mumbles, eyes now screwed shut.

"Really, really good," you nod eagerly, voice soft. Your hands paw at his back in search of anything to hold on to.

The sensation is almost too much you think you might burst. Although, when he starts to whimper, that's when you really lose it. The way he sounds and the way his face scrunches up, it's intoxicating. You need more of it.

You cry with want, "harder... please."

Like always, he attempts to give you everything you need and desire. He nods, hips quickening and lewd sounds coming from your bodies. A small gasp leaves you. Your legs wrap around his waist, allowing him to hit your deepest point. It's a feeling you'll never quite get used to. The moment he reaches that spot, it's never long after that it's over.

Letting out a gasp, you clench around him, causing his movements to falter and become more frantic. A breath quickly leaves him before he's asking, "inside, right?"

You whine, "mhm," dangerously close to slipping off that ledge. Your mind brings you to images of you pregnant, his baby growing inside you. This time not so scary. You imagine this moment in a very different time, when his release will signal a new start and not just an end.

His mouth finds your shoulder, pressing careful kisses to the skin. The hand not holding his body weight finds the sensitive point between your legs, eliciting a loud moan from you. Desperately, you cling to him, arms wrapping around him for any more contact. That familiar feeling builds deep in your gut and you whine, finding your eyes rolling back.

It happens quickly, the finish line getting closer and closer until it's gone and you're in another universe of pleasure. Your hips try to escape but Spencer doesn't let that happen. His hand moves from your center to your hip, holding you down with little force. The fog clears just in time to watch him reach that very same ecstasy. Lips parted against your shoulder, he whimpers, movements becoming even sloppier until they slow.

The odd warmth spills from you. His breaths come heavy as he relaxes against you and pats your head—an interesting choice of affection after sex but somehow suitable. When he pulls out, you sigh shakily, watching him go to the bathroom. Before long, he's back with a damp cloth. He opens your legs again, running the fabric over you with a tenderness you couldn't possibly describe.

He joins you after discarding the cloth. An elbow holds him up so he can look at you, looking so perfect, lips swelled and hair splayed delicately over the plush pillows. He's staring. Mind wandering, he pictures a world in which you're rounder and perhaps with a ring on your finger. You're deep into pregnancy, probably grumpy with him but he doesn't care because you're his. Only his, forever.

Again, not today, not now, but someday. When the funds are appropriate and you know it's the right choice. Not that he ever doubted.

Just above a whisper, he says, "so... that doesn't mean I want—"

"I know. I'm glad," you grin, still quite dazed but completely content.

A kiss is pressed to your forehead and he sighs. "I love you."

"I love you," you mutter back.

As previously stated, Spencer Reid is a man that's good with kids. You presume he's even better with you, though.

#criminal minds #spencer reid #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x self insert #spencer reid x you #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid one shot #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid angst #spencer reid smut

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