#I tried to shift like twice and it still didn’t work

[2econd2ight2yd]

I listened to an old playlist and suddenly I’m 10 years old and pacing around my living room in the dark staring at my old baby pictures until I can think of a way to kill myself

[whytheylosttheirminds]

no shame - r.c.

(Rafe Cameron x shy!waitress!reader blurb, 1.1k)

summary: Oh nothing just me thinking about what happens when Rafe takes you back to his place after weeks of eyeing you up at the club, losing his mind over your little blush when he caught you staring…

content: fully just smut, mentions of insecurity, 18+ minors do not interact!!

︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿

Rafe was obsessed. Everything about you was so much better than he had imagined. And god, he had spent hours imagining. But you were lightyears beyond the version of you he conjured up as he fisted himself every night after you'd waited on him at the club restaurant, making a mess all over his sheets while he groaned your name.

The real thing was a million times better. He loved how expressive you were, so unafraid to tell him exactly what you wanted and how he made you feel. He knew he was a goner from the moment you pulled back from what was supposed to be a goodnight kiss in his truck, brows furrowed and lips puffy when you told him “Rafe, I’m really wet.”

Then when he finally got you in his bed, he thought maybe he’d found heaven. You were just so sweet, so polite. Looking at him with genuine gratitude while you let him bury himself all the way, asking him to go harder and then whimpering “thank you!!” when he obliged.

You were clueless to his adoration, though. Your own insecurities getting the best of you, even though you felt better with him then you ever had in your life.

You were so worked up after your dreamy evening together, Rafe showing up looking so damn handsome in his button down, opening doors and pulling out your chair. Not to mention the weeks of frustration leading up to your date, trying not to think dirty thoughts whenever he came into your work and purposefully sat in your section.

No matter how hard you tried to keep your head down and focus on your work, your eyes always landed back on him. His rippling arms under his tight golf shirts, the veins in his hands as he swirled his bourbon, the pink hue in his lips when he smirked at you and asked you to dinner after your shift.

Tonight was supposed to be the night you made him want you the way you wanted him. You tried riding him, but you were way too blissed out to keep up the pace. You had collapsed on his chest and when he asked “what do you need?” you couldn’t think of anything sexy to say, only the truth. So you whispered, “I need you to get behind me and go as hard as you can.”

You didn’t have to ask him twice.

Rafe was deeper than you thought possible. He smirked as you braced yourself on the headboard when bunching the sheets between your hands just wasn’t enough, “you’re so big!” you cried, your honesty making him quiver inside you.

“Ya think so?” he coaxed you into continuing.

“Yes- ah!- yes! How are you so deep? It’s soooo good, Rafe!”

Soon your words had melted into whimpers, which broke into actual squeals as you reached you arm behind you, nails scratching at his hard stomach, not even sure what you were reaching for.

You don’t remember what else you said, just that it was loud, your hair messy in your face as you writhed around helplessly in the sheets, coming harder than you ever had. By the time he pulled out, your whole body was trembling with aftershock. Your lips puffy and swollen from being pulled between his teeth and makeup smeared from burying your face into the pillows, which were now streaked black with your mascara.

He kissed your shoulders as he rolled off of you and onto his side of the bed, his own chest rising and falling with desperate pants.

You laid very still, legs like jelly, goosebumps jumping out all over your skin now that the warmth of him was on the other side of his California king.

As your body came back to earth, a wave of embarrassment crashed over you. The room was starkly quiet, your ears ringing from the shrieks you had let out.

“I’m sorry…” you mumbled from between your swollen lips.

“Hmm?” He asked, still reaching for a deep breath that just wasn’t coming.

You wished you had said it louder, not sure you could muster the courage to repeat yourself. Had he not heard you or had he not understood?

“Said ‘msorry” you tried to be clearer but your voice was strained from overuse.

Rafe sat up, confusion and concern flashing across his face.

“Sorry for what?” He asked, his hand reached to comfort you but he pulled back at the last minute, afraid he had done something wrong to cause this reaction.

“For being so extra,” you choked out, “it was just really good.” You turned your neck to hide your shameful blush in the pillows.

Rafe’s worried look faded, giving way to a wide smile, a combo of relief and pride.

“You’re embarrassed?” He flattened his hand over your lower back and rubbed your skin gently, hoping to reassure you.

You just nodded into the pillow and let out a muffled “mhm.” His chest rose with endeared laughter, he couldn’t help it - you were just so cute.

At the sound of his laughter, you turned around to face him, disbelief across your face.

“Don’t laugh at me, Rafe!” You grabbed one of the pillows and whipped it at him, the action only making his laughter grow, his head falling back with delight.

You couldn’t believe he was actually teasing you in your vulnerability. You pulled away from him, reaching for the clothes that had been discarded on the floor so hastily.

“No, wait!” Rafe grabbed your arm and pulled you gently back onto the soft mattress, you could’ve fought him but you let yourself fall, still too drawn to him to resist.

“You have nothing to be embarrassed about, princess,” Rafe cooed. He was propped on his elbow over you, basking in the way you looked up at him, all soft and pretty, hair fanned out beneath you and your perfect tits on display just for him.

“Really?” You asked so earnestly he thought his heart might burst.

Rafe bent his head low to place a soft kiss on your collarbone, your nipples hardening with anticipation as the skin of his chest ghosted over them. Even that involuntary response made you worry he’d think you were pathetic.

“It was so fucking hot,” he praised before kissing you again, lower this time. “You make me crazy.”

He hovered over you and your legs opened immediately to allow him to settle between them.

“Do you mean it?” You still couldn’t believe a man this gorgeous could want you so badly, despite feeling him hardening again against your inner thigh.

“Mhm,” Rafe nodded and smiled sweetly up at you, his chin resting on your clavicle, his perfect face looking like it belonged there. “Gonna make you come all night just so I can hear you squeal like that.”

“Rafe, stop!” You giggled, swatting his shoulder.

He chuckled a deep, husky laugh and returned his lips to your skin, swirling his tongue over your nipple, before grazing it with his teeth, making your body shudder helplessly below him.

He smiled warmly against your skin, continuing to worship you, pausing only long enough to say “now be a good girl and thank me again.”

︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿

[milktiicup]

If it's alright to request, can you write any type of one shot or headcanons for Mr Scarletella? If you write for him.

blissful work life!

“Haunt my boss!” Mr. Scarletella tilts his head ever so slightly, and his sinister smile returns, ear to ear and even sending a chill down your spine. “Scare human?” he repeats.

warnings. no warnings!!! blissful love life ending but scarletella ver :3

You hate work. You hate working. Nobody likes to work, and yet here you are. You feel like you’ve been here for hours, but it’s only three hours into your eight hour shift at the office. You want to go home. 

You eye the clock, and decide to take your fourth toilet break within the hour. You stand up from your cubicle, successfully sneaking past your boss, and slip into the bathroom. 

You stare at yourself in the mirror- and man, you look tired. Even though you get eight hours every night, courtesy to Mr. Scarletella running his hand up and down your back that lulls you into the most blissful sleep, you still look exhausted. It’s like the minute you step into this office it drains all the energy from you, as if the building was a vampyr. 

You twist the handle of the sink, cold water running into the drain. You cup your hands, letting the water cool your skin down, and splash your face. For good measure, you do it again. You turn the tap off, and stretch your arms above your head, shoulders popping and back cracking.

Sure, the other world had things that tried to kill you at every corner, but at least you didn’t have to work. Grumbling, you make your way to the bathroom door. Reaching out, you pull the handle and…

Great. It’s locked. Who the fuck locks the bathroom door in the middle of the day?

You pull the handle once more. You scowl. How could this day possibly get any worse?

The lights flicker. 

You pull the nastiest face possible. 

The lights flicker again, and for a moment, they stay dark. When they turn back on, the bathroom is flooded with a crimson light that illuminates everything in the creepiest ways possible. 

You blink once, twice, and your tormenter turned roommate turned lover is standing right in front of you, umbrella in hand and a twisted smile on his face. 

“Scarletella!” you exclaim, mood brightening faster than the speed of light. You wrap your arms around him, and breathe in the aroma of fresh rain he radiates. 

He uses his free hand to wrap it around your waist, head dipping so his chin rests on your head. You sigh in content, grip tightening for a moment, then step back. 

You cup his face as you ask, “Why are you here?” 

Mr. Scarletella stares at you, his normal eyes dull and unemotional. “Want you home,” he replies, and pulls you closer by the arm around your waist. “Like you.”

Huh. The clingy type. Mr. Scarletella wasn’t one for verbosity; he was all intense stares and small, deliberate gestures that said more than words ever could. Still, hearing him say he missed you… God, you knew he wasn’t the greatest of guys morally, but how can he be so cute?

You let your fingers linger against his cold cheek, tracing the faint line of his jaw. “I like you too,” you admit, your voice softer than intending. “But I stay. I work. Money, and boring human stuff…”

His umbrella twitches slightly in his hand. “Long time, I wait.”

“I know… It sucks,” you grumble. 

You feel his grip tighten ever so slightly, like he’s afraid you might slip away if he loosens it. His face inches closer, his dark eyes searching yours, and he lets out a low hum that resonates in the quiet bathroom. “You should not be here,” he murmurs, his voice a mix of frustration and something softer, more tender. “Place… Change you. You tired.”

You can’t argue with that; he’s not wrong. The fluorescent lights, the endless spreadsheets, the hollow hum of office chatter—it all feels like it’s sucking the life out of you. Reality doesn’t care about that, does it? Bills don’t stop just because you’re tired.

“Belong with me,” he concludes, and his face rests in the crook of your neck. It’s a statement, you realise, not a plea. “Want you home.”

Your heart squeezes. There’s something undeniably sweet about his devotion. He doesn’t understand your world any more than you understand his, but he’s trying. For you.

You sigh, letting your hand rest on his red hair. “But I have to finish my shift. If I leave now, my boss will—”

“Boss?” Mr. Scarletella interrupts, his tone sharp, head tilting just enough to make you nervous. “Hurt you?”

“No!” you reply quickly, shaking your head. “No one’s hurting me, Scarletella. My boss just… yells. A lot. It’s annoying, but not dangerous.”

He doesn’t seem convinced. Mr. Scarletella stands straight, and his grip on your waist tightens just slightly. As emotionless as his eyes could get, they somehow got darker. “Yell… you?” His voice drops an octave, each word dripping with quiet menace.

You groan, leaning your forehead against his chest. “Not just me. Everyone. That’s just how jobs are. Humans yell, Scarletella. It’s annoying, but it’s normal.”

Silence hangs in the very romantic bathroom rendezvous, and it’s almost as if a lightbulb appears above your head.

“Haunt my boss!”

Mr. Scarletella tilts his head ever so slightly, and his sinister smile returns, ear to ear and even sending a chill down your spine. “Scare human?” he repeats.

You nod enthusiastically, grinning as the idea takes hold. “Yes! Just a little scare, nothing too extreme. Maybe flicker the lights, whisper some creepy stuff—just enough to get them to back off for a while. Think you can handle that?”

Mr. Scarletella’s twisted smile widens, a gleam of mischief flickering in his dark eyes. “Scare. Easy.” His umbrella twitches again. “Human… respect you.”

You laugh, patting his chest. “That’s the spirit- but seriously, don’t overdo it, okay? No disappearing desks or spectral possessions or whatever it is you do.”

“Only little scare,” he promises, his tone so dry and serious you almost believe he’ll stick to it. Almost.

“Good,” you say, stepping back and smoothing your clothes. “I’m counting on you, Scarletella. Just don’t get me fired, alright?”

His head tilts again, as if the concept of fired remains an enigma to him, but he doesn’t argue. Instead, he lifts his umbrella with a flourish, and the crimson glow fades, leaving the bathroom bathed in normal, boring fluorescent light. The door creaks open on its own.

Before stepping out, you glance over your shoulder, giving him a playful wink. “See you at home, okay?”

Scarletella doesn’t respond with words—just a faint nod and an unreadable look that lingers as you leave.

The rest of your shift is... eventful. About an hour after returning to your desk, the atmosphere in the office changes. Your boss, notorious for their constant yelling and micromanaging, suddenly goes pale. They stammer through a meeting, jumping at every little sound, and eventually retreats to their office, slamming the door behind them.

Rumors spread quickly. Some say the lights in the break room flickered ominously, others whisper about strange whispers echoing through the hallways. A few claim they saw shadows moving where no one was standing. It took all of your will power not to cackle.

By the end of the day, your boss is uncharacteristically quiet, avoiding everyone- including you. You pack up your things with a spring in your step, skipping out of the building. You finally got to leave work early for once!

When you get home, Scarletella is waiting for you, perched on the couch with his umbrella resting against his leg. His eyes meet yours as you walk in, and you can sense the smugness radiating off him.

“Did you behave?” you tease, dropping your bag by the door.

“Boss quiet,” he replies simply, his lips twitching into the faintest hint of a smile. “Respect you now.”

You burst out laughing, flopping onto the couch beside him. “You’re unbelievable, you know that?”

Scarletella doesn’t answer. He just wraps an arm around you, pulling you close, his cool touch grounding you after the day’s chaos. As his hand starts tracing soothing circles on your back, you let out a content sigh.

Well, thank God it was raining today. 

[fruittt-punchhh]

thinking abouuuuuut somno w needy! toji

but needy! toji specifically in the middle of the night and like he’s so tiiiired and desperate and ugh. I have a thing for needy, desperate, tired men pls lay off of me. Inspired by @theobsidianempress

needy! toji who wakes up hard behind you in your oh so tiny pajama shorts, warm legs tangled in his as you subconsciously push your hips further into him.

needy! toji who seemed to wake up most nights around this time, almost like his body was on an internal clock set to go off when you looked your best, all tired and a peaceful as you dream your night away.

needy! toji who never wore anything to bed besides a chain and his ring, which made your cute shuffling in the bed a problem for his now half-hard cock.

needy! toji who had fucked you once twice today, once in the morning before he left for work and once after dinner. but his appetite was never satiated when it came to you.

needy! toji who wraps his arms around your waist, pulling you impossibly closer as he grabs a handful of your tit, kneading it as he grinds into your ass.

needy! toji who was now going to take full advantage of this ‘free use’ bullshit you mentioned to him a few days back.

needy! toji who tries to be gentle, tries to keep you asleep as he satisfies you. his large, rough hands rub circles on your clit as you shift in bed, breathing heavy - unbeknownst to you.

needy! toji who dares to see how far he can take things before you wake, playfully biting your shoulder, sucking on the soft skin as he chuckles to himself when you let a quiet whine slip.

needy! toji who pulls your left leg up over his, up and out of the way so he can fish his big hands down the back of your shorts like the nasty bastard he was - shoving two of his thick fingers into your already soaked pussy from behind as soon as he finds your entrance.

needy! toji who debates finger fucking you until you wake up, deciding against it so he can hear your sweet, muffled noises when he finally pushes his throbbing cock inside of you.

needy! toji who lets a whine slip with the knowledge that you’re still asleep, so beautifully stimulated by your tight, gummy walls. needy! toji who doesn’t understand how you’re still so tight after being fucked twice already today. needy! toji who doesn’t understand how you’re still asleep.

needy! toji who didn’t realize you’ve been awake since his hands snuck under your waistband.

needy! toji who gets three full thrusts in before you’re pushing back into him with a giggle as he fills you sooo snug to the brim.

needy! toji who pushes you roughly onto your stomach once he realizes your little trick, trapping both of your legs tightly between his so he can fuck you mean like he’s wanted to all day.

needy! toji who had to be gentle this morning because you were ‘tiiiiired’ and needy! toji who let you ride him until he was spraying your insides white after dinner. needy! toji who hasn’t had the chance all day to take you like he needs, letting you get your way two too many times.

needy! toji who shoves your head into your pillow, ruffling your hair up purposefully because he’s such a meanie. “been waiting - hah.. for this, little girl” he says, the sharp jabs of his hips bringing you close to your orgasm already.

needy! toji who can’t believe how wrapped around your finger he is, can’t believe he let you fuck him how you wanted earlier today. needy! toji who can’t believe he even had any resolve to stop himself from fucking you how you deserved earlier. “been.. so.. fuckin’.. nice.. all.. goddamn.. day” he spits, each word punctuated by an aggressive, deep, slow thrust that left you breathless.

needy! toji who can’t believe how close he is already, thinking he’d be good to go for hours with how much he’s cum already today. “fuck you y/n.. your stupid.. perfect pussy’s gonna make me bust too quick,”

needy! toji who bucks into you faster now, staring at how the fat of your ass jiggles and bounces with each thrust as you yelp into your pillow. “yeah - that’s it. cum on me, squeeze me.. milk me, ma,” he begs, forcing the words out as he feels you clamp down on his length.

needy! toji who’s mad at how tight you get, mad at how dripping wet you are, mad at how incredible you look, mad at the cute noises you make, mad at how you have him so vulnerable in the moment.

needy! toji who’s mad because he knows - gun to his head, he couldn’t pull out. knife to his neck even, it’d take an act of god to pull him from your precious cunt.

needy! toji whose voice pitches up an octave or two as he cums, bearing his full body weight on your back, pumping so rough into you as you milk him dry.

needy! toji who tells you to use your shirt to clean up as he rolls back over, already snoring before you’ve got up to use the restroom.

[suguann]

an. part two of this | masterlist

You tell him you broke up with your boyfriend while he’s away for work, bunked up in a safe house in the middle of nowhere with shit reception, hearing your words as clear as day as if they weren’t the chopped-up version coming through his burner phone.

“It just…didn’t work out.”

It didn’t work out.

He pretends his stomach doesn’t pleasantly twist because he’d expected it to happen eventually. He’s not happy about it—although it does make the desert heat more bearable in his heavy tactical gear—and tells Soap to fuck off when he comments on it.

It was a one-time fuck because Simon doesn’t date. He’s tried in the past before he met you—the flowers, the late-night dinners—but with him being gone almost every other month (sometimes longer, shorter if he’s lucky), it never works out in the end. Sleeping with you twice would fall under that category, the quasi-relationship kind, and make everything messier than it needs to be. 

Just some fun, no strings, those are the words he promised.

If only he believed them.

He does, for all of two weeks until he’s home again, and it’s summer, so you’re wearing a flowy dress that shows off the long expanse of your legs. 

(He’s a goner—not even sure why he tried to think otherwise.)

That one time he’d promised turns into a second, both of you stumbling into your apartment after a night out. The music from the pub still thumping loudly underneath your floor as he pushes you against the front door, hands in your hair—on your waist, underneath your skirt, down your thigh to hitch it over his waist—teasing your mouth open with a swipe of his tongue across your bottom lip.

You make this delighted little noise in the back of your throat, arching into him, and his hand spans down your stomach, beneath your underwear, to nudge your messy clit with his knuckle, wanting to hear all the sounds you make now that he has you alone. 

A whiny cry of his name rewards him—jeans tightening around his waist at the sound—when his fingers go down, down until they press against your tight little hole, one finger pressing inside slowly. "If I make you cum, I get to fuck you here.”

You smile prettily, and it disarms him. “If you make me cum, you can fuck me however you want.”

Neither of you makes it to the bed, falling asleep on the living room floor instead, the blanket from the couch draped haphazardly over both of you with his arm curled over your waist.

That night had been a slip of judgment, a product of wanting something warm and soft after several months of only having his hand for company.

It happens again and again, and he keeps letting it happen until there’s no more hiding under the guise of just fun because it somehow turns into a lot more than that.

Simon can’t explain how it happens—maybe becoming something he can touch and hold and think about often—but he finds himself in an exclusive relationship with you that isn’t exactly a relationship because he’s unsure of the ins and outs that they entail.

(Always has been.)

His father was a shit role model, and it was always easier finding someone new who didn’t know his name or care about his scars and only wanted a nice fuck. There had never been any point in shooting for something serious when it was always out of the question for him, until now, that is.

He takes you to that over-rated restaurant overlooking the Thames Marcus never brought you to. A picture of you and him with the sunset in the background—your smile almost blinding in the photo—becomes his home screen, and he finds he doesn’t care when Soap has something to say about it.

He lets you do nonsensical shit, like buying small plants for his house that are surely going to die from him being gone before he comes up with the great idea to give you a key. It’s just a key.

(It’s more than just a key.)

Simon finds himself asking if he can come over more often throughout the week, which slowly moulds and shifts into nights filled with things other than sex—sleeping after a long day of work, cuddling on the couch, cooking together, going to the movies—he doesn’t try to make a big deal out of it because you used to hang out all the time without sex. 

(Somewhere, there’s a but in there.)

There’s still no label to whatever this is, and he wonders if you want him to be the first to say the thing you’ve both been dancing around for a little over…he can’t remember, but he knows it’s been long enough for your things to mix in with his at his house. 

Be with me because I’m yours, and you’re mine, that’s what he’s trying to say, and it’s never the right time. Men like him—a little broken, rough, and jagged around the edges sharp enough to cut—aren’t good with words like that.

(That’s what he thought.)

If he hadn’t seen you talking to a guy at the pub, eyes crinkling in that same sweet way whenever Simon makes you laugh, he wonders if he would’ve been the first to break from the start. He knows it’s your job as a bartender to be nice, but his jaw clicks at the sight of the guy leaning over the bar and into your space, almost too close.

The feeling doesn’t go away until he has you spread out on your mattress under him—clothes haphazardly peeled out of the way for him to put his mouth on you—your lips pursed tight around two of his fingers to give you something to focus on as his other hand works between your thighs, pressing down on your tongue when gurgled little sounds slip out.

He teases you with a small, pink vibrator he found inside your bedside table, your legs kicking out and toes curling into his calves.

“Mine. This is mine, love,” he groans, pressing you further into the bed with his weight. “Do you understand?”

You nod, tears pearling and leaking from the corner of your eyes.

“Lemme cum,” you whine, words muffled. “Simon, I want to cum. Please.”

He won’t lie that he’s close after jerking into his fist to the sight of you writhing on the sheets—swears he can feel his heartbeat throbbing against the back of his fingers—takes in your surprised expression when he pushes forward, impaling you on the first few inches of his cock.

His stomach twists from the squeal that escapes your throat, and fuck, your cunt, so hot and tight with little pulses that drive him crazy, only growing tighter when he turns up the speed on the vibrator.

“‘Mm, gonna cum. I’m—”

He grits his teeth as you start to flutter around his cock once he’s rooted inside you. “Go on—fuck—go on, love. Let me feel it.”

You look so perfect like this, like a dream: lips parted into an enticing little O with his name tumbling out in breathy mewls, tits hanging out from the bra he shoved to the side, eyes glassy and unfocused. 

“So fucking pretty.” He kisses your throat, panting into your sweat-slick skin, and it’s not long before he’s falling over the edge with you. 

Next time, he’ll have the courage to tell you: that you’re not someone he calls for a meaningless fuck on the weekend, that Simon misses you when he’s gone and can’t wait to come home, that he wants to try with you—except not when he’s balls deep and trembling inside your heavenly cunt.

But the smile he feels against his shoulder makes him think that maybe…

Maybe you already know.

[brokenmenswhore]

I need more stuff with poly!maraudersxreader spicy stuff🤭

i am but your humble servant 🙇‍♀️

mean | poly!marauders

pairing: poly!marauders x fem!reader (james, remus, & sirius)

summary: the boys get jealous seeing you with a study partner, and you reap the consequences when you tell sirius he was being ‘mean’

warnings: smut (MDNI 18+), rough sex, use of the word daddy twice

a/n: is my sirius favoritism showing too much or no

────── ☾ ──────

“I don’t think I’ll ever actually understand this class,” you said, the library study session beginning to take its toll.

“You’re getting it!” Evan encouraged, “we just need to work on it a little bit more.”

“I appreciate your faith in me, but I think after four hours, I either get it or I don’t,” you replied.

“I don’t mind the time,” Evan said, “especially when I get to spend it with you.”

Your three boyfriends could hear every single word exchanged between the two of you, being that they were seated only two tables away, and the second they heard Evan’s statement, Sirius jolted upwards from his chair.

“Sit down,” Remus instructed, “what are you gonna do? Kill him in the middle of our entire year?”

“Yeah, Remus, I just might,” Sirius responded, but still sat back down, eyes never leaving the two of you.

“You have to trust her, Sirius,” James scolded.

“It’s not her I don’t trust,” Sirius said, nostrils flaring in a rage.

Evan was sitting much closer to you than the boys were comfortable with, but they had to trust that you would shut him down if he overstepped.

“Yeah, this has at least been fun!” you told Evan, “but I think I’m a lost cause. This library is beginning to feel like an asylum.”

Evan shrugged, “I mean, we could change the scenery if that’s the problem. There’s usually not anyone in the fifth year potions classroom after the midday class. It would be quiet, and we could be alone and really focus.”

Evan shifted his chair even closer to you, placing an arm around the back of your chair, and leaning closer to you.

“That’s it, I’m gonna kill him,” Sirius said, standing up and reaching your table before Remus or James could keep him at bay.

“What the fuck do you think you’re doing?” Sirius spat, hands on the table as he leaned in, standing across from you.

“Studying?” you replied as Evan backed off.

“Studying,” he mocked in a high tone, “tell him he better get the fuck away from you if he wants to continue breathing.”

“I’m right here, Black, if you have a problem, say it straight to me,” Evan retorted, standing up to meet Sirius’s eye level.

“Ok, Rosier,” Sirius cleared his throat, “I have a problem with you attempting to feel up my girlfriend and then get her alone. I also have a problem with the lack of bruising on your face.”

“Sirius!” you and Remus scolded in unison, the other two boys now next to Sirius, ready to pull him back if he decided to lunge.

“I didn’t do a single thing,” Evan protested, “but if you’re so insecure that you think studying means she’ll cheat on you, maybe she never really liked you in the first place. She could do better anyway.”

Sirius went to jump over the table, but Remus and James held onto one arm each, holding him back as Evan laughed.

“This is not worth it,” Evan told you, “I’ll see you around.”

“Evan, I’m sorry-“ you tried to say as he walked away, your attention turning to Sirius. You were angry with him for the way he was acting, but his fury far outweighed yours.

Remus and James dropped their grip on Sirius when he calmed down. Sirius glared daggers into you. “Just studying, eh?”

“We were just studying until you tried to attack him,” you retorted.

“Go to the dorm room now before I decide to make you feel sorry right here. We’ll meet you up there.”

“But I still-“

“Now.”

The rage in Sirius’ voice was not something to take lightly. When he was mad, making him angrier often ended badly. You retreated to the dorms, seated cross-legged on your bed with a textbook open as you waited for your boyfriends to arrive.

The door to the dorms swung open so hard that the door slammed open against the wall. All three of your partners entered the room, Sirius stomping straight over to you and wrapping a hand around your throat.

“Had a fun day toying with other boys, huh?” he asked.

“Sirius, please, I really was just trying to study,” you pleaded, eyes finding Remus and James and searching for help, “you guys should know that I would never do that to you.”

“I know, baby,” Sirius’ voice weakened, his anger breaking at your pleas, “I’m just mad someone else tried to take what’s mine.”

“I think he was trying to make us jealous, too,” Remus added, “and it worked.”

“Is that what the big issue is?” you asked for clarification, “you’re all jealous?”

“He got really close to you,” James responded, the candor in his voice hurting your heart.

“I’m yours,” you said, grabbing the wrist around your throat, “I’m all of yours, and yours only, you know that.”

“We know,” Sirius said, “I’m just so mad. I can’t calm down.”

“You need to release the energy, Sirius,” James said, “you’re never gonna get past this if you don’t.”

Sirius looked into your eyes, and you gave him a slight nod, signaling to him that he could use you to release the energy. He had a lot of pent up rage from the earlier incident that he needed to let out. He needed to remind you, and himself, that you were his.

Sirius crashed his lips onto yours, a hand still on your throat as he pushed you back against the headboard.

Remus threw the textbook in front of you onto the floor, pulling your legs from their position until they were out in front of you. He kissed up your thighs until he was under your skirt, kissing on top your underwear as you let out a small moan into Sirius’s mouth.

Remus moved your underwear to the side, immediately diving in between your folds with his tongue, causing you to gasp. Sirius pulled away from your mouth, allowing him to hear the noises you made. You whined as Remus shoved his tongue into your soaking wet hole, the intrusion catching you off guard.

“Shit, Remmy,” you whimpered.

“Gotta remind you who you belong to, dove,” James spoke, taking a seat on the bed next to you, “you remember?”

“I’m y-yours, shit, James, all yours,” you whined as Remus continued to fuck you with his tongue, your hand taking its place on his head, fingers entwined in his hair, holding him in place.

“No fair,” Sirius pouted, “why do you get to hear her moan your name when I’m the one who got mad in the first place?”

“Y-ou were mean,” you explained, breathing heavy, making talking difficult as ever, trying to give Sirius the reason you weren’t focusing your attention to him, despite your better judgement.

Remus heard you and immediately stopped his assault on your core. You tried to push his head back down in desperation, but he took your hands off of his head, pinning them to your sides.

“What the fuck did you just say to me?” Sirius questioned, tone low and dark.

“Nothing,” you answered, hoping they would let it go but knowing better.

“I was mean, huh? I don’t deserve to hear you moan my name then, is that it? You think you’re so big and powerful, punishing me because I was mean?” Sirius was growing angrier and angrier, his rage overtaking him again.

“I- I’m sorry,” you tried to backtrack.

“No, no, it’s too late for that now. If you think I don’t deserve to hear you, then I won’t do anything that constitutes a noise. You don’t want me, then so be it.”

“No, please, I do, I want you, please-“

“Tell it to James,” Sirius cut you off. He was mad at you for talking back to him, and mad about earlier, but he was strictly doing this to punish you. He knew you loved how he fucked you when he was mad, and he was threatening to deny you what you wanted.

“Jamesie, please, tell him that I w-“

“Uh uh,” James tutted, “you’re with me now, not Sirius. You don’t get to have him now.”

You pouted, tears threatening to spill as you looked up at James. He leaned over you, kissing your forehead before your lips, distracting you with his mouth before a hand lifted up your skirt and traveled beneath the waistband of your underwear, finding its home on your pearl.

James began to rub in circles, eliciting a moan in the kiss.

“Remus, I think you can go back now,” James spoke.

Remus kept your hands pinned at your sides but shifted downward, tongue reentering you as James rubbed you off, the feeling of two different men on your core driving you insane.

Sirius slumped down on a chair a few feet away, lighting a cigarette as he watched Remus and James overstimulate you as they held you down.

“Jamie, please,” you moaned.

“Please what, dove?” James asked, beginning to touch any part of your core he could, the pleasure becoming too much to handle.

“Please let me come,” you begged.

James looked at Remus, who made eye contact with him, but never left you alone. He shoved his tongue in and out of you, curling it upwards once inside, eyes focused on James as he waited for any signal to stop.

James, however, was always the nicest to you in the bedroom. Though he knew Sirius and Remus would usually stop now, he was making the call, and he hated denying you your pleasure, even if you were being punished.

He leaned in and kissed you, his touch quickening and hardening as Remus continued to taste as much of you as he could, causing your climax to hit you without warning. You squealed and moaned into James’s mouth, legs shaking as Remus licked up any remnants of your high before pulling away from you and standing up.

You attempted to catch your breath as Sirius took one last drag of his cigarette, extinguishing the flame and walking over to you, your cheeks flushed and chest rising and falling rapidly as you tried to calm down.

“See, you didn’t need me, did you?” Sirius taunted.

“I-“

“Still don’t want me?”

You furiously shook your head no. “No, nonono, I want you, please, I need you,” you begged.

“Even though I’m so fucking mean?” he spat, intentionally working himself up to an angry place again.

“Yes, daddy, please,” you replied, using the name for him that you knew he couldn’t resist.

Sirius growled, tugging on his jeans and crawling over you, lightly kissing your neck before meeting your gaze.

“Beg for me,” he demanded.

Your heart was beating so hard it made your chest sore. “Please, daddy, I want you.”

“I think he’s earned hearing his name, sweetheart,” Remus spoke from beside you.

“Please, I need you so bad, Siri, I-“

The second you spoke his name, Sirius pushed your skirt up to your waist and your underwear to the side, inserting his entire length into you in one quick motion, a move he loved to use when he was punishing you for something. Though he had been inside of you plenty of times, he was too large to simply just start fucking you without a warm up, unless, that is, he was purposefully being mean.

You let out a high pitched moan at the intrusion, always forgetting just how deep his cock hits within you.

He then pulled almost his entire length out of you before slamming it back in, your body jolting upwards at the feeling of his hips snapping against yours. He started to fuck you, fast and hard, leaving no time for you to adjust to him or his size.

“Siri, fuck,” you moaned.

“That’s it,” he breathed, “you’re all mine. You fucking belong to me.”

All three boys were possessive of you, but knew you ‘belonged’ to all three of them, not just one. However, when Sirius was mad, the other boys didn’t matter. They knew he needed to feel like you were his and only his. All the boys needed that one-on-one intimacy at times, but Sirius craved it all the time, and sometimes Remus suspected that he really did wish you were all his.

“It’s too much, can’t- I c-“ you started to plead, but Sirius didn’t care, continuing his ruthless pace that nearly had your head slamming upwards into the headboard with each thrust.

“You can, and you will,” Sirius spoke, “you’re all fucking mine. I don’t even want anyone else near you. You’re gonna take it like a good girl so that everyone can hear who you belong to, understood?”

You nodded, taking a moment to process that you had to speak. “Yes, Siri.”

“Good girl,” he said, one of his hands grabbing your throat as he snapped his hips at an almost violent pace.

“Siri, please, I’m gonna c-“

“You know you’re supposed to wait until he comes,” Remus reminded you, “or else it just isn’t fair.”

“B- but- I-“

“No buts,” Remus said, running a thumb over your cheek to collect the tears that were now falling, “you wait until Siri is ready, and then you come with him. He deserves at least that much.”

Your walls were clenching around his cock, and you fought desperately not to come. You knew you were supposed to wait and come in unison with whoever was fucking you, but you were overstimulated, and Sirius’s possessiveness was hot.

“That’s right, baby, you gotta wait,” Sirius cooed, “my girl only comes when I say she can. You’re my girl, aren’t you?”

“Yes, Siri, I’m yours,” you responded, your hands grabbing desperately at his shoulders to steady yourself, “all yours.”

Sirius ran a hand over your body, scanning every inch of you as he fucked you. “All mine,” he whispered, almost more to himself than to you.

Sirius’s thrusts began to become erratic and sloppy, his high approaching as his clock twitched inside of you.

“You gonna come with me, love?” Sirius asked, and you whined in response, signaling that you were ready.

Sirius tightened his grip around your throat. “Come for me,” he commanded, “for me and only me.”

Your walls clenched around Sirius one last time as you came around him, one final “Sirius!” leaving your lips as you did.

The feeling of you coming around him caused Sirius to reach his high, his final few thrusts sharp and deep inside of you.

He took a moment to collect himself and catch his breath before pulling out of you.

“You remember who you belong to now?” James asked, sweetly repositioning your skirt over you to allow you modesty as you calmed down.

“Mhm,” you began to feel tired, “I’m all of yours.”

[bloodrvvvsh]

I Have No Shame. | Spencer Reid x GN!Reader

Synopsis: Spencer joins the Mile High Club with your help.

Pairing: Spencer Reid x GN!Reader

Warnings: Handjobs, semi-public sex, they get caught (sort of?), soft sub!Spencer, soft dom!Reader, Spencer being a whimpering whining mess, facials, cum eating, established relationship, pet names (baby, sweetheart, angel, honey, good boy), literally so much praise, a little bit of crying from Spencer, like one (1) use of Y/N, slight dumbification, begging

Word count: 1.5K

Notes: My first Spencer fic wow!!!! It’s been so long since I’ve written an actual fic, I missed it so much. Anyways I hope you all enjoy! For this I imagined like s1-s4 Spence but could technically be interpreted as any season

Cross-posted on A03.

Spencer Reid was not a bold man.

In fact, he would go as far to say he was the total opposite. At least, in his personal life he certainly was. He never made the first move, always waiting for that perfect time that never came.

He didn’t like taking risks. Even calculated ones were too much for him sometimes. So he stayed in his little bubble of comfort and safety. He liked it there. Sure, it might make him the subject of a bit of teasing and he missed out on a few things, but at the end of the day he still liked it there.

Until he met you.

You were everything he wasn’t. Outgoing, daring, bold. In some ways, you could even be described as a bit of an adrenaline junkie. It’s actually partly what led you to joining the FBI. You liked the thrill, the high stakes, the way it got your blood pumping when you had to chase down a criminal on the loose. 

You lived for taking risks. The idea of never truly knowing what might happen made your spine tingle, every one of your hairs stand on. There wasn’t a better feeling than feeling a little sick to your stomach with nerves and excitement for you.

It's an interesting dynamic you and Spencer had - he was all for playing it safe and keeping to himself, while you could be a wildcard. Spencer learned that very quickly after you two started dating. And while it wasn’t that you were trying to change him (you would never!), you were simply opening him up to things he wouldn’t have thought twice about.

Everyone else on the jet was fast asleep. Slumped over and curled up in positions that would certainly give them a knot in their neck later. Spencer had his head laid over your lap, curls sprawled across your thighs while you mindlessly twirled the strands around your fingers. 

You were still wide awake. The rush of the case just closed still ran hot through your veins. You’d most definitely crash later once in the sanctity of your apartment, but for now you were full of energy. You tried to distract yourself by staring out the jet window, watching the world go by, but it wasn’t working.

You glanced down at the pretty boy sprawled across you like a sleeping angel and a little thought popped into your head. You shifted in your seat, sitting up straighter, before you gently threaded your fingers into Spencer’s hair. Your nails scraped across his scalp and you almost swore you could have heard a little purr rumble in his chest.

You leaned over him, breathing slowly in vain attempt to settle your already racing heart. “Spence,” you crooned softly. “Spencer, wake up, baby.” Once Spencer actually fell asleep, he was a fairly light sleeper. It didn’t take much before he was stirring awake with a quiet groan.

“What is it?” he asked, voice thick with sleep. His hands raised to rub at his eyes and you could only smile. “Did we land?”

“No,” you said a little too quickly, “No, I just..” You trailed off a little as your teeth sunk down on your bottom lip. “I had an idea.” You stood to your feet and offered your hand out to him. He quirked an eyebrow, glancing between your face and outstretched hand, before slowly placing his in your grasp.

There was a little bit of a bounce in your steps as you led him in the direction of the bathroom and in that moment, Spencer regretted agreeing to whatever you were about to do. He squeezed your hand and you tossed  him a smile that reeked of mischief over your shoulder.

It was a tight squeeze once inside. Because, like most airplane bathrooms, it was meant to only fit one person at a time. That didn’t stop a lot of people, though. And you were one of them.

You crashed your lips against his the minute the door locked behind the two of you. It was hot, full of passion and lust as your hands roamed over his body. He whimpered softly against your lips before relaxing into the kiss. His hands were warm and broad against your body, sending shivers down your spine.

You didn’t waste time when you wanted something, and you wanted him right here and now. Your hands drifted until they hit their target - his belt. You broke for air, panting heavy and hard, as you tried to make quick work of shedding the layers between you and his dick.

“Y/N-” he gasped. “Wait, wait-” He took hold of your wrists, halting your movements. His eyebrows pinched together and his bottom lip jutted out ever so slightly. “What if we get caught?”

You grinned at him. “Well, I guess you’ll just have to be quiet so we won’t.” You knew just how much of a struggle it was for Spencer to keep himself under control when he was feeling good. The noise complaints from your neighbors were proof enough. 

Your hand dipped into his pants and underwear and you tried to suppress the smirk that threatened to spread over your face when you wrapped your fingers for his half-hard cock. He gasped, but quickly slapped a hand over his mouth when you shot him a look.

His eyes rolled back as you began to stroke along his length. Your thumb brushed over the tip, smearing the pre-cum gathering and Spencer’s knees buckled. Your pace was slow, almost languid, teasing.

“Please,” Spencer whined. You grinned once more.

“Please what?” you murmured. You leaned even closer to him, somehow, hovering over his lips. You were both breathing heavily and practically sharing breaths. You took a moment to look over his adorably flushed face. “You’re so pretty, Spence..”

“Please.” He wasn’t even sure what he was begging for, pleasure clouding his usually bright mind. “Please, please, pl-ease.” His voice cracked when you sped up, his head lulling back. “F-feels so good, oh god.”

You cooed at the state of him. “What’s wrong, sweetheart?” Faux pity coated your words, making Spencer whine again. “Come on, use your words, honey. I can’t read minds.” You snickered.

His hand jumped to grab your wrist, not to stop you, no. He was too far gone to stop you now. He simply held it there, keeping a tight grip on you as you jerked his cock. 

He looked like a total mess. An absolutely stunning mess, but a mess nonetheless. Curls sticking to his forehead and cheeks, plush lips parted in soft moans, eyes squeezed tight, face flushed shades of red. His hips arched into your touch, cock twitching in your hold.

“Are you gonna cum?” you asked and he nodded frantically. His lips twitched into a soft frown as tears began to well in his big brown eyes. God, he always the prettiest he was all dumb and fucked out. “Good boy,” you crooned at him.

You dropped down to your knees. You finally freed his dick from the confines of his underwear and he hissed at the feeling of the cold air. You didn’t waste a moment to resume your ministrations.

“Look at me, Spencer,” you commanded and he immediately followed the order. He nearly lost it at the sight of you on your knees before him. “Good boy, that’s it..” You picked up the pace even further, hand almost a blur stroking him.

“I’m- I’m gonna-” he stumbled over his words, unable to even form proper words as the pleasure grew. You shook your head.

“Do it, Spence,” you commanded again. “You can do it. Cum all over my face, pretty boy.” And that’s all it took for Spencer to tumble right over the edge. He tightened his grip on your wrist, back arching as he spilled over your face in thick spurts.

You worked him through his orgasm, stroking slow and gently, until he began to whine from overstimulation. You slowly rose to your feet and Spencer was already offering you paper towels to clean yourself. You ran a finger through one of the streaks of cum on your face and brought it to your lips, eyes fluttering shut and soft groans escaping you as you tasted him.

When you opened your eyes again, he was beet-red and looking oh-so shy and cute. You giggled. You gladly took the paper towels and began to wipe away the remnants of his cum.

You connected your lips in a chaste kiss when you were finished, making him blush even more. “You did such a good job, angel,” you praised before pressing another kiss to his lips. He tucked himself back into his jeans and buckled them back up. You entangled your fingers together, leading him out of the bathroom.

You made your way back to your seats, a sense of satisfaction settled in your chest. “Reid?” The call of your boyfriend’s name had you both glancing back to see Hotch awake in one of the jet chairs. “Don’t do that again”

Heat washed over both of your cheeks and you had to slap a hand over your mouth to hide the growing smile on your lips. “Yes, sir,” Spencer said with a nod of his head.

At least you had fun.

[pathologicalreid]

don't say nothing | S.R.

gemini part two

who? spencer reid x fem!reader category: smut (18+ mdni) content warnings: softdom!spencer, "good girl" (you can tear it out of my cold dead hands), alcohol, fwb, oral fixation, consent, idiots in love, praise kink, gun violence, jealous spencer? unprotected pinv sex, word count: 3.73k a/n: posting smut twice in a row who the fuck am i?? anyways, everyone's favorite idiots in love are back. i used the song don't say nothing by del water gap to provide me with inspiration.

part one

please say something, cause I've been growing lonesomer each day

Penelope threw her arms up in frustration as you walked through the front door of O’Keefe’s, “I was beginning to think you were ditching us.” She got up from the booth, letting you slide in so that you were next to the wall – across the table from Spencer.

Things with him were as awkward as ever. The two of you were like a rubber band getting stretched, every time the tension became too much, you snapped and ended up in bed together - or in the academy showers, but that was just the one time. Looking at him now, the rubber band felt taut.

“I took the liberty of getting you this,” Garcia announced, a broad smile on her face as she pushed the glass toward you.

Raising your eyebrows, you eyed the beverage suspiciously before taking a tentative sip. An undetermined liquor slid down your throat as you tried to hide the distaste from your expression. Penelope had a taste for sweet, sugary drinks, it was the main reason she usually ended up puking first at girls’ night.

Spencer noted the look on your face, discreetly sliding his glass of water toward you. Thank you, you mouthed to him, earning a slight smile in return. “So, where’s this friend of a friend that you’re trying to set Y/N up with?” Luke asked, standing at the open end of the table.

In your periphery, you saw the smile immediately drop off Spencer’s face. Feeling his eyes on you, you shifted on the supple leather of the booth and looked over at Penelope.

“He said he’d show up later,” she said, lifting her own glass to her lips and sipping out of the straw.

That was enough for you to know that it would never work between the two of you. You needed someone who was punctual. Someone who wouldn’t ghost you at the last moment. Huffing, you sat back in the seat, wondering how long you’d have to stay out before it was socially acceptable to go home.

You took about thirty minutes before asking your teammates to let you out of the booth under the guise of needing fresh air. Luke asked if you wanted to move out to the patio, but you waved him off before walking out the front door.

The spring air kissed your skin as you avoided pedestrians until you made it to the outer wall of the bar, leaning against the cool bricks and sighing.

“Are you alright?” Spencer asked, walking out of the bar, and approaching you.

Avoiding eye contact, you watched people’s shoes as they walked by – heels, sneakers, sandals. “I’m fine, Spence,” you answered simply as your heart begged you to meet his hazel eyes.

You closed your eyes as he reached out, gingerly placing his hand flat on your ribcage. “You had a close call last week,” he said matter-of-factly, referring to a shot you had taken to the chest while on a case last week.

Shrugging, you opened your eyes again, “I was wearing my vest, barely even hurts anymore.” Spencer had been on sabbatical at the time, but he still came to visit you during your overnight stay in the hospital. You were left with a gnarly bruise to the ribs, and Emily had benched you for two weeks.

Tired of your refusal to meet his eyes, Spencer hooked a finger beneath your chin, lifting it until you could make out the gold of his eyes. He looked through the window of the bar, checking for something before he tugged you further from the glass. You didn’t have the time to ask him what he was looking for before his lips were on yours in the alleyway.

Spencer Reid had a habit of kissing you like you were a last meal, with open, messy kisses that made your lovelorn chest ache.

“Garcia’s friend didn’t show up?” He asked, pulling away from you just enough to get the words out.

Shaking your head, you reached up a hand and threaded your fingers through his hair, “Nope.” You cocked your head to the side as the two of you fell into your familiar pattern, “I’m glad I didn’t agree to the date. Could’ve been a fatal blow to my self-esteem,” you told him while thinking of a good way to navigate your current situation.

He also had a habit of making your mind go blank when his lips were on you, and you almost lost it when he groaned against your mouth, “His loss.”

Your breath hitched when he used his knee to part your legs, placing an agonizing pressure on your sex as you resisted the urge to grind on his thigh.

“Hey, Y/N?” He murmured in your ear before pressing gentle kisses on the side of your throat.

Humming, you bit your lip, “Yeah?”

Detaching his lips from the soft skin of your neck, Spencer pulled away to look at you, “Thank you for not agreeing to the date.”

Your body slouched against the wall, “I can’t do this again,” you confessed. The words slipped out of your mouth too easily for it to be a lie, even if you never meant for them to come out.

Spencer took a step back, removing himself from you entirely, “What do you mean?” He asked, watching as you frantically smoothed down the front of your dress and caught your breath.

“Why do I keep doing this to myself?” You muttered helplessly, once again averting your eyes from the man standing in front of you. Taking a shaky breath, your heart pounded so violently in your chest that you thought it might burst.

Catching out at you, he firmly placed his hands on either side of your waist before you could walk away from him. “Baby, what are you talking about?” He asked you urgently.

There it was again, baby. It was like a key in a lock, causing everything to pour out of you. “I can’t stop thinking about you. Isn’t that funny? You’re there, haunting my every move, and none of me occupies even a fragment of your mind.”

Recognition flashed in his eyes as he processed what you were saying to him, “It’s me?” He said, hazel eyes flickering over your face.

“Of course, it’s you, Spencer,” you said exasperatedly, afraid of years of longing coming out in a random alleyway in the district. Tears pricked at your eyes as you silently pleaded for him to say something.

Bewilderment was pasted on his face as he opened his mouth to speak, shut it, and then opened it again. “The person. Your one person that you’d say yes to. I’m your one.” He clarified, trying to get a hold on the situation.

Nodding miserably, you reached up and placed your hand over your heart as if you could staunch your bleeding heart, “You’re my one, and every time we’re together, you’re thinking about someone else.” It wasn’t an accusation; you knew he had feelings for someone else. He had told you just as much at Dave and Krystall’s wedding. Two months ago. Wiping underneath your eyes, you gathered whatever was left of your dignity and walked away from the situation.

As you walked back to your car, you were vaguely aware of people staring at you. You knew that you had played just as big of a role in your own destruction as Spencer had, maybe even more. You never should’ve had sex at the wedding, but you had sought comfort in one another.

Fishing around in your purse, you pulled your keys out, only for them to be scooped from your hands. “Hey!” You shouted in frustration, gaining the attention of passersby as they wondered whether or not they needed to call 911 or stay out of a lover’s quarrel. Shooting daggers at Spencer, you refrained from stomping your foot in frustration lest you look like a petulant child. “Give me my keys, Spencer,” you insisted, holding your hand out impatiently.

“Not until you talk to me,” he responded. He was out of breath, meaning he had run to catch up with you – a feat in and of itself.

You crossed your arms in front of your chest, “There’s nothing left to talk about, Spencer.”

He took a moment to catch his breath before looking around, “There is everything to talk about. I have to talk to you.”

Weighing your options, you reached out for your car keys, which he let you take, and unlocked the car. “Get in,” you offered halfheartedly, wiping your cheeks before getting into the driver’s seat.

Silently, you started the drive, taking a right onto the next street. “This isn’t the way to your apartment,” Spencer observed anxiously.

You shook your head as you turned on your turn signal to merge onto the highway, “No, it’s the way to yours.”

Residences had been off-limits during your illicit affair, but each member of the BAU had the ability to get to each other’s homes. It was more of a safety concern than anything else. Since you’d never been to Spencer’s apartment before, you needed him to guide you through the lobby and up the stairs. To your chagrin, he did that by taking your hand in his and having you follow him.

Looking around once he unlocked the door, the first thing you noticed was that the space was so… Spencer. From the green walls to the stained-glass window to the piles of books, it all just seemed so fitting for him. “Sit,” he said with an authoritative tone as he made his way back to the kitchen, returning with two glasses of water.

“What do you want to say, Reid?” You said, leaning back in an armchair as you looked over at him, taking calculated breaths.

Disappointment filled his eyes, “Don’t call me that.” There was something in his eyes that resembled fear, but you couldn’t quite place the reason.

Narrowing your gaze, you tilted your head to the side and feigned ignorance, “Everyone calls you that.” You challenged, even though you supposed it wasn’t true.

“You don’t,” he responded simply. It was true, over the years you had never called him Reid. Dr. Reid and Spencer Reid, yes, but never just Reid. To you, he had always been Spencer or Spence. “When you do it, it feels so… impersonal. Detached.”

You blinked, not expecting him to have said that. Your relationship with Reid had always been personal. From back when you were just friends to whatever miscellany of emotions you had now. “I didn’t mean for it to be,” you admitted defeatedly, fiddling with the buttons on your cardigan. Although maybe you had intended to detach yourself from the situation by referring to him with a name that felt less personal.

In your periphery, you saw him looking dejectedly at you, but you couldn’t bring yourself to meet his eyes. “Will you please look at me?”

Swallowing thickly, you closed your eyes, “I can’t.” Your voice was no more than a whisper as you admitted the truth, one look in his eyes, and you’d break your heart even worse.

“At first, I thought it was easier for me to just say I was interested in someone else because I was under the impression that you were interested in another man,” Spencer told you candidly. “My idea was that I could keep you close to me until you felt ready to move on, and that would just have to be enough.”

Staring blankly ahead of you, you reached out to grab your water from the coffee table, taking small sips as you struggled to digest what he was saying to you.

You shut your eyes tightly at the vulnerability in the room, opening them to find Spencer knelt in front of you. “What I didn’t realize was that a fraction of you would never be enough, not for me.”

Burying your face in your hands, you avoided his eyes as the gravity of his admission weighed down your shoulders. “Spence,” you begged. He needed to stop. He was toeing the point of no return.

“I am so devastatingly in love with you,” he admitted. “I didn’t know how deeply it ran until the wedding, but I just couldn’t get myself to let you go.”

Spencer pried your hands off of your face, revealing teary eyes. You let your body slide off the chair until you knelt in front of him, knee to knee. Taking a deep, shuddering breath, you leaned forward and pressed your lips to his.

Quickly, he wrapped his arms tightly around you, pulling your body flush against his, “I love you.”

“I love you too,” you answered, surprised at how easily the words rolled off of your tongue. Taking your time, you slung one arm over his shoulder, reaching the other up so you could put your hand in his hair. You relished in his groan as you tugged lightly at the strands.

You couldn’t help the whine that passed through your lips as he pulled away from you. He got to his feet before helping you up, and once you were standing, his lips were back on yours.

Leading you to what you assumed was his bedroom, you felt your blood heat up as he pushed your cardigan off of your shoulders. As you reached up to undo the buttons on his shirt, you grinned against his lips.

Sat on the edge of his bed, you parted your knees and pulled his shirt from where it was tucked into his pants before fumbling with his belt buckle. Disconnecting your lips so that you could look at what you were doing, he took the opportunity to duck his head and take your earlobe between his teeth. As he nipped at the soft skin, goosebumps spread where you were bare, leaving you in need of more. More of him.

Once you got his belt undone, you made quick work of the button and zipper on his slacks, sliding them down over his hips and ass while his hands made their way up your dress. “Spence,” you said breathlessly, trying to push his pants further down. Understanding your plea, he stepped out of them entirely, kicking them to the side.

Spencer drew away from you just enough to tug your dress off of your body, tossing it off to the side and gently guiding you so that your back was flat against the mattress. You watched in anticipation as he pulled his t-shirt off, the movement allowing for the tip of his cock to peek over the elastic of his boxers. “You’re so pretty,” he muttered, the softness of the words taking you by surprise, “Always so pretty for me, baby.” He gently traced his finger over your bruise as a shadow of worry crossed his features, but it was gone as quickly as it showed up.

His words spurred you on to pull at his underwear, trying to take them off, but you simply didn’t have the arm span to do it on your own. “I wanna touch you,” you confessed, “Can I touch you?”

“I need to be in you,” Spencer answered, pulling his boxers off before kneeling in front of you, eyes widening when your legs fell open. Expertly, he hooked his fingers in the sides of your underwear, dragging them off in one swift motion and leaving the both of you completely bare.

Your mouth parted when his hand reached your wet heat and two fingers entered you tantalizingly slowly. “I thought- ah- no touching,” you complained. It was a halfhearted complaint because really, there was nothing to be bothered by.  

Reaching down, your hand grabbed his wrist, trying to slow his ministrations. “You’re so responsive for me,” he murmured, continuing to move his fingers in and out of you and watching in fascination as your hips bucked off of the mattress involuntarily.

“Fuck,” You said, screwing your eyes shut as that all too familiar knot started to form in your lower belly. “Spence, baby- I’ll…” A low whine escaped your throat as he withdrew his fingers from your core. “Spencer,” you said in frustration, opening your eyes to see him inspecting your slick that had been left on his fingers.

Like a rehearsed routine, he placed his hand in front of your face, prompting you to incline your head forward and wrap your lips around his index and middle finger. As you swirled your tongue around his fingers, he watched you with an undying interest. “Good girl,” he muttered, the praise causing your sensitive cunt to clench around nothing.

Taking his hand back, you looked down as he used his now free hand to line his cock up with your entrance. Laying one of your hands at the side of your head, he used his other hand to intertwine your fingers before he pushed into you. Instead of tossing your head back like you normally would, you looked up at him, watching as he hilted himself in you. “Spencer,” you whispered.

“Are you alright?” He asked, checking in with you as he placed his free hand on the other side of your head.

You nodded quickly, “It just feels different this time.” Your heart clenched at your own admission. You weren’t using each other as an escape anymore.

Spencer hummed in understanding, leaning down and pressing a tender kiss to your lips. “I love you,” he whispered, “I love you so much.”

Your breath hitched as he tentatively thrust in you like he was testing the waters. “I love you,” you responded in kind, your voice higher than usual.

The response was enough encouragement for Spencer to keep going, he tucked his face in the crook of your neck, gently biting the skin as he set the pace. Small gasps escaped your throat every time his hips met yours.

As usual, your sounds spurred him on, seemingly trying to make you as vocal as possible, he used one hand to reach up and grope your breast. While his fingers pinched at your nipple, you wrapped your legs around his torso, locking your ankles together behind him. He lifted his head, moving his lips against yours in hurried, messy kisses that only aided the knot building in your stomach.

You didn’t have the capacity to warn him before you came undone beneath him, your orgasm coming over you as you whined into his mouth. Your walls clenched around him so tightly that Spencer had a hard time keeping his pace before it became too much.

Sighing contentedly as he filled you, you ran your hands down his back as he continued working through both of your orgasms. You whimpered as he continued fucking his cum into your oversensitive hole until your head went fuzzy, “Spence.”

He stuttered to a stop, staying inside of you for just a beat under he pulled out, causing you to flinch as you were left empty. “Are you alright?” He asked, still breathing heavily – not that you were faring much better.

Nodding, you blinked rapidly as your lungs tried to catch up with the rest of you, “I’m perfect,” you answered dazedly.

Spencer smiled at you, “You are. Perfect, that is.” He sat next to you on the bed, placing a hand on your bare hip, affectionately dragging his fingers over the skin. “You need to go pee,” he said suddenly, furrowing his brows at you.

You couldn’t help it as you erupted in a fit of giggles, resulting in an adorably confused look from Spencer. “Sorry, it’s just you telling me that I need to go pee – it’s funny,” you told him, biting your lip to muffle your laugh.

“Have you not been peeing after sex?” He was clearly appalled as if the idea of you not peeing after sex was abhorrent to him.

Rolling your eyes, you propped yourself up on your elbows, “Of course, I pee after sex, Dr. Reid,” you put extra emphasis on his honorific. “And I will pee just as soon as I’m sure my legs aren’t going to give out of me when I stand up,” you explained to him, reaching out and placing a hand on his knee.

He looked at you seriously, “You know, there are some studies that say the sooner after sex you urinate the less likely you are to contract a UTI.”

“Oh my god,” you said, “Don’t say the word urinate at me while I’m naked in your bed.” You complained, clambering up and making sure you were steady before you walked to the ensuite.

Later on, you were laying in bed next to Spencer, your head was resting on his chest while he kept you tucked into his side. You flinched as a phone started ringing, you sat up and looked around for your phone. Please don’t be a case, you silently hoped as you searched the sheets for your phone.

Once you finally grabbed it, you saw Penelope’s contact flashing across the screen. Swiping the screen, you put the phone up to your ear, hearing loud music on the other end of the call. “Hey, Penny,” you said, smiling as Spencer reached out and pulled you back into him.

You adjusted your t-shirt over your skin, having made Spencer go out to your car for your go-bag so that you could have clean clothes to sleep in. He slipped his hand under the cotton of your shirt, placing his hand flat on your bare skin. You tried to greet Penelope again when she doesn’t respond.

“Hey!” Her voice chimed in through the speaker, “Where’d you go? Jason just got here!”

Frowning, you pulled your phone away and looked at the time – just past eleven o’clock. You sighed, letting your body meld into Spencer’s, “Tell him that someday he’ll find a girl with equally as atrocious time management skills as him.”

You heard some rambling on the other side of the call, and wondered how many members of the BAU made it out this late. “Okay, but where are you?”

Humming, you peered up at Spencer who had, unsurprisingly, pulled out a book to read before bed. “I’m right where I need to be,” you told her earnestly, wondering if she could hear your voice's smile as Spencer kissed your forehead softly.

tagged, if you asked for a part two: @donttrustlove @jumpingjackalope @bippityboppityboob1tch @makingbloodbaths1 @sammyreidslut

@evvy96 @mus3y @nnab @basicallynotbreathing @hell0kitty11

@tatilolz @radioactiveinvisible @lamentis-10 @k-corbett @discotitsposts

[crashandlivewrites]

Cherry Pie

A wondering happy birthday to my sweet Cherry @soapsgf who wanted some soft and sweet romantic smut with big dicked Simon. This one's for you, darling <33

Pairing: Simon Riley x fem!reader (Cherry)

Summary: It's been a while since you've been intimate with a partner, and Simon takes good care of you.

CW: MDNI 18+ content, NSFW, cunnilingus, fingering, consent checks, first time between partners, big dick Simon, unprotected piv, creampie

Word Count: 4.2k :))))

Simon was your first partner after a long, long stint of failed dates. You’d met him by chance, out one night with a group of friends when you’d bumped into a solid mass of muscle walking out of a bar. He’d caught you, set you right on your feet with a few words of being careful of your surroundings before seemingly melting into the shadows, despite his size. 

The next morning, you’d stopped by a local cafe. The barista called your name and you grabbed your drink, spinning around quickly only to have a heavy set of hands grip you tightly. Panicking for a moment, you looked up, ready to try and fight off your attacker, when you took in the strangely familiar face. 

“You’re… you…”

“That’s twice within twelve hours, sweetheart. Starting to think you’re making a habit of this.” His voice was accented, deep, and gravelly, making your hair stand on end. 

“I didn’t meant to— I’m sorry—” 

“It’s fine, doll. You couldn’t take me out even if you tried.” He huffed out a chortle at that and you felt your face shift into an expression of mild amusement. Then, with a surge of confidence you weren’t even aware you possessed, you met the heavy gaze of his dark eyes. 

“No, but I can give you my number, and then maybe you can take me out instead.” 

The man blinked, the smile still ghosting on his cheeks as he tilted his head, watching you. Suddenly, it felt like he was scrutinising every aspect of your appearance and you ducked your head, feeling your face heat. 

“Ah forget it, sorry, I just—” You’d moved to exit the cafe, but a firm arm wrapped around your waist. 

“I’ll take you up on that offer, if it’s still on the table.” Blinking in surprise, you looked up at him. One corner of his lips was twitched up into a smirk, his brow slightly raised and you couldn’t help but feel your lips pull into a grin as you nodded. 

“Name’s Simon.” He told you as you quickly scribbled your number on a piece of paper. As you handed it to him, he opened in and frowned slightly. “No name?” 

“Take me on that date, Simon, and you might be lucky enough to get it.” The smile that broke out on his face made your stomach flip, and somehow you knew this was the start of something. 

•

Several months down, you and Simon had settled into a steady routine. Whenever he was back from deployment, he slotted himself neatly into your life, as if he hadn’t missed a beat. It was refreshing, to have someone like him, someone who was willing to work through things, instead of ignoring them. 

Including sex. 

You’d first breached the topic with him a few months in. He’d come back from deployment and there was something about him in his gear, still sweaty and dirty from his time out. Simon had stood there, leaning against your doorframe as you’d opened the door and you felt your heart rate pick up. 

The look in your eyes had clearly sparked something in him, and he surged inside, kicking the door closed and pressing his mouth to yours. He steered you towards the couch pressing you against the back of it before one of his hands ran up the back of your leg roughly, hitching it around his waist. 

In a moment of panic, realising where this was going, you broke the kiss, a firm hand placed in the centre of his chest. Though his brows furrowed, he acknowledged the look on your eyes, and slowly let you down. Fear bubbled inside you at the thought of possibly upsetting him, but he placed a reassuring hand on your cheek. 

“It’s alright, doll. Just talk to me.”

“It’s… been a while.” 

“We don’t have to do anything,” He said gently, thumb stroking your cheekbone. “Not until you’re ready.” 

“But you want it—” A thumb pressed against your lips, stopping your words before you could finish your sentence.

“It doesn’t matter what I want, lovie. If you’re not feeling it, or you’re not ready, I’m not going to force it.”

Swallowing thickly, you looked up into his earnest eyes and realised that, yes, he’s different from the rest. 

“I still want to kiss you, though.” Your words were softly spoken, but were met with a chuckle as Simon tilted your head back, cupping your head. 

“Kissing I can definitely do for you.” 

•

The time came a month or so later. Simon had messaged in the early afternoon, telling you to get all dolled up and pretty because he was going to take you out for the evening. He turned up at your doorstep, dressed in cleanly pressed black pants with a black button-down shirt he’d rolled up to expose his thick forearms. You couldn’t help but let your mouth drop open slightly as he leaned against your bedroom door, watching you as you fiddled with your hair. 

Turning around, you got a better look at him, allowing your eyes to unabashedly trace over his broad, thick body. Chuckling, Simon stepped forward, making his way over to you. As he stood in front of you, the soothing scent of cologne wafted over towards you. Unable to stop the sound, you let out a breathy whine and he smirked.

“See something you like, doll?” His hands slid up and down your sides before leaning down to press a kiss against your cheek. “Come on, we’ll be late.” 

He’d made you feel spoiled, treating you to an exquisite dinner at some ridiculously fancy place. You were unable to stop your eyes flitting over to him and admiring just how damn attractive he was as the pair of you sat in the low ambient lighting of the restaurant. Finally as you were headed back home, you were struck with the idea that maybe, just maybe, you felt ready. Simon had always made you feel safe, why should this be any different?

When you arrived home, Simon knelt down, lifting one of your legs up gently to remove your shoes. Placing a soft kiss to your knee, he gently lowered it back down with a hand on the back of your calf. He repeated the process on the other leg before pushing himself up to press a kiss to your cheek. He made a move to walk away, but your hand on his wrist stopped him. 

Though you didn’t talk right away, Simon stood there patiently, waiting for you to find the words.

“Simon...” You murmured trailing off as the words evaded you, choosing to flutter your lashes up at him instead. He looked at you, eyes darkened, tilting his head slightly as he calculated his next words

“What’s on your mind, doll?” 

“I want you.” The words were soft, but firm. Simon, the tease that he was, lifted a brow in mock surprise. 

“You want me to do what?” He smirked, staring down at you expectantly. The grip you had on his wrist tightened. 

“I’m ready. And I want— no— need you to fuck me, Simon.” You could see the change in him, as if a switch had flicked over in his mind.  

“Are you sure?” His voice was rough, layered thickly with desire, but still present enough to look deep into your eyes. “Need to hear those words again, pretty girl.” 

“Yes, Simon,” You assured him, chest rising and falling as you breathed heavily, “I want you.” 

The words broke his resolve and he dove in to seal his lips against yours, moaning softly at the contact. He’d kissed you countless times before, but even you could feel the difference in this one. It was intense and heated, his hands sliding up and down your back and squeezing at your body before he quickly pulled back, panting. 

“Anything that’s too much— too quick— too rough, you tell me, promise?” The gruffness made your hair stand on end, and you shivered in his arms.

“I promise, Si.” Groaning, he pressed his face into the crook of your neck, one large hand cupping the back of your head as he nipped along the column of your throat. 

“I’m gonna make you feel so good lovie, I promise.” Letting out a soft whine, you ran your hands down his chest, squeezing the soft flesh around his waist as you pulled him closer to you, pressing your hips forward. Simon’s breath hitched before he let out a growl. 

“Bedroom. Now.” 

The pair of you hurriedly made your way to the bedroom, mouths never leaving each other’s as you finally felt the doorknob and pushed it open. Having barely stepped into your room, he broke the kiss, spinning you around so he could tug down the zipper of your dress. Moaning softly, he allowed his hands to caress your bare skin as he mouthed up your neck once more. The dress fell to the floor, leaving you almost bare compared to his mostly clothed body. 

He spun you around and, with frightening ease, Simon lifted you up, hooking your legs around his waist as he strode quickly over to the bed. Placing you down gently, he pushed you back so you hit the pillows. Nudging your legs apart with his thighs, he ran his hands over your legs, cupped your ass before sliding up your back. 

“So fucking pretty for me.” He whispered, eyes heady as they stared down at you, hair fanning over the pillow as your chest rose and fell rapidly. Unable to hold himself back, Simon threaded a hand through your hair, gently pinning you to the bed as he lowered his mouth to your neck once more.

Your hands moved to the buttons of his shirt, tugging them open so you could get your hands on the glorious expanse of his chest. His skin was rough, littered with lumps from old cuts and scars, and you wanted to map every bit of it. He seemed to be doing the same to you. His large, calloused hands tracing up and down your body, worshipping every inch of skin as his mouth kissed down your chest and stomach. 

“Lemme taste that pretty pussy of yours.”

Pulling up, he lifted your hips and tugged your underwear off, before pausing, eyes drawn down to the drenched fabric. Running a thumb over it, you watched as his face pulled into a smirk before he tucked the panties into the pocket of his slacks. 

“Still feeling alright, lovie?” A brow was raised in question as he looked at you, fingers tapping on your hip as he waited for a response. 

“Yeah. Please.” Reaching for his hands, you squeezed them gently, causing him to let out a chuckle. 

“Good girl.”

Settling down between your legs, he pushed them apart before dragging his tongue up your wet slit and moaning as he did so. It was wet, messy, and sloppy, but god it felt good to have someone tonguing your pussy like they knew how to. 

Drawing your lip between your teeth, you cut off a moan that was threatening to break free when Simon pulled away to stare up at you. 

“None of that now, doll. Let me hear you. All of you.” He grunted, sealing his mouth back over your cunt with determination. As he moaned, the vibrations ran through you, making you shiver and gasp. Hearing the sound of your breath hitching, he dug his fingers into your hips, pulling you harder against his mouth. That action made a moan break from you, hands threading through the short, blonde hair as he ravished you. 

It wasn’t long before you felt the familiar, toe-curling feeling you’d only been able to give yourself and your breathing change, morphing into soft pants and pleas as your fingers tightened in his hair. Instead of changing his rhythm like you’d had other partners do, Simon kept the same, allowing you to press and roll your hips over his mouth and you needed to find the right spot. 

When you did, your whole body twitched as you let out a moan, arching your back as your legs shook. Simon practically growled into your cunt, eyes flashing open to stare up at you, taking in every slight reaction you gave him. Looking down, you stared into his eyes, dark and hungry which caused your stomach to flip. 

Brows drawing together, your body shivered and you reached down to grip one of his hands as your mouth dropped open as you felt your orgasm wash over you with a cry of his name. Simon grunted, letting out a moan of his own and held you tight to his mouth as you climaxed. 

Breathing heavily, you groaned softly, pushing at his head, but he refused to move, mouth moving down so the ridge of his nose pressed against your clit as he tongued your cunt. He pressed a thumb to the hood of your clit, flicking over it as his other hand kept tight hold of your leg, pressing his tongue deep into you. 

Groaning at your taste, he didn’t stop until he felt your walls shaking around his tongue and your hands tugged more viciously at his hair as you moaned loudly. Managing to get your foot into his shoulder, you shoved him back, looking down to see his smug grin, chin wet and shining with your slick. 

“Still good, lovie?” Though his face was feral, his voice was soft and questioning. Choking out a laugh, you clapped a hand over your eyes. 

“Yeah… just… fuck.” He hummed in approval, pushing himself up to slide up next to you, his hand tracing lightly up your thigh. 

“Need a break?” The smug grin was back as he looked down at you, earning him a slap to the chest. 

“No, but I can help you—” Before you could even begin to reach down for his trousers, he gripped your hand and pinned it above your head. 

“No need, pretty girl. This is about you.” 

“But you—” He pressed his mouth to yours, kissing you deeply as you tasted yourself on his lips. Tracing a hand over your chin, he pulled away, looking down at you.

“This is about you.” He repeated, with more sincerity. “For you, at your pace. Do you want to keep going?” 

“Yes!” The reply was quick your mouth, barely before he’d even finished the question. A wolfish grin spread over his face and his hand gripped your hip. 

“Good fucking girl.” He groaned, hand moving to trail his fingers between your legs. Circling your clit slowly, he breathed soft words of praise into your ear as you whined for him, rolling your hips to meet his rough digits. 

“Look at you. So soft for me. So pliant. You’ve been desperate for it, haven’t you? Don’t worry, doll, I’m gonna make it so good for you.”

As if it were the easiest thing for him, he brought you closer to another orgasm. You could feel the heat coiling in your gut as he kept rubbing over the sensitive bud, pinning your legs apart with his. 

“Don’t hide from me, pretty girl. Let me see everything. Wanna know how good I’m making you feel, how wet you are for me.” 

“Simon…” Your back arched, hand reaching out to grip his body for support. He drew you into his chest, fingers unrelenting between your legs as he held you against the firmness of his chest, covered by a soft layer of fat. Tipping your head back on his shoulder, you gasped out another moan as you came yet again. 

“Fuck yes. My good girl. Look so pretty when you come for me like that. Gonna finger you now, yeah? Stretch that tight cunt out nice for me.”

Mewling in his arms, you turned your head, shaking it slightly. 

“Cock, Simon. Want your cock.”

“I know you do, greedy girl. But patience for me, yeah?” 

“No!” Whining, you pressed your hips back against his. Letting out a huff, Simon moved quickly. Pushing you down onto the bed, he nestled himself between your legs, dress shirt crumpled as your eyes trained down to the swelling bulge in his pants. Smirking, he raised a brow. 

“Yeah, pretty girl. That’s why. Gimme your hand.” Grabbing your wrist, he pulled it down so your palm was pressed against his crotch and he thrust his hips forward. Squeezing your hand around him, you took in the full weight and thickness of his cock, and swallowed thickly. 

“Fuck you’re big.” You blinked your eyes up to him, and the corner of his lips twitched into a wider smile. 

“Exactly, my pretty doll. Need to make sure you’re all nice and lax for me. Need to get that pretty cunt all soaked and messy before you even think about getting my cock.”

Releasing your wrist, he turned his attention back to your pussy, where one of his thick fingers circled your entrance, collecting your slick. Smirking darkly, he leaned down and spat directly on your cunt, making you jerk and moan at the feeling. Spreading his saliva, he plunged his finger into you, and the pair of you moaned in sync. 

He was a vision between your legs. Still mostly clothed, but looked debauched with his shirt pulled open and the sleeves rolled up. The black ink on his tattooed forearm rippled as he thrust his fingers into you. Grunting, his jaw clenched as his eyes were trained on your pussy, watching the wetness soak his finger. 

“Look at you, so fucking eager for it. Can feel you clenching around me. Think you can fit another finger?” Without much preamble, he slid in a second finger with a low breath. “Good girl. Good fucking girl. God, you feel so good. Can’t wait to feel this tight little pussy round my dick.” 

Squirming underneath him, you clung to the sheets, keeping your legs spread for him as your eyes rolled back into your head in pleasure. 

“Fuck, Simon… oh my god.” The erotic, slick sound of his fingers entering your cunt repeatedly filled your ears. Panting, you reached out a hand and gripped his shirt. 

“No no no, not done yet. You’re getting another in you. Come on, pretty thing. You can do it, you can do it, I know you can. Be good for me, yeah?” 

You couldn’t resist. Between the sound of his voice, the way he pinned you so easily against him, the way his fingers curled inside of you… 

A third finger pressed at your entrance and you sucked in a breath, eyes flashing open as you stared into his eyes. The fist you had clenched in his shirt tightened, pulling him down as you grit your teeth. Simon lowered his head, pressing his forehead against yours as the third finger slowly pressed in. 

A guttural moan broke from your throat at the burn of the stretch, but also from the orgasm that he pulled out of you. Swearing, Simon grunted, his fingers plunging into you a little faster as he took advantage of your climax. 

“Good girl. Fuck, look at you. Shit, the sounds you’re making…” His voice cracked as he moaned, breathing turning shaky as you writhed in his arms, pussy pulsing around his fingers. 

With a low growl, Simon pulled his fingers out of you with a wet sound as he yanked his belt off with one hand and pushed his pants down. Gathering yourself enough, you pushed yourself up onto your elbows to watch him. As his cock sprang out from his underwear, you let out a shocked gasp, eyes widening as you took in his cock. 

It was long and thick, with a ruddy head. His balls hung heavy, making you shift your legs wider in anticipation. The action wasn’t missed on Simon, and he grinned hungrily. Spitting on his hand, he used the combination of your slick and his saliva to pump his cock as he ripped at his shirt, pulling it open so you could admire his soft belly. 

The main that left your lips was whiny and pathetic as you stared between his gorgeous body and that glorious cock of his. 

“Simon please… fuck please don’t tease me.” 

“Believe me, doll. Couldn’t tease you right now even if I wanted to. Need to feel your pretty pussy wrapped around me now.” 

Shuffling forward onto the bed, he settled between your legs, tapping the flushed head of his cock on your sensitive clit, making you jerk. 

“You sure you want it, sweetheart? Last chance to back out before I’m filling your tight little cunt.” With your chest heaving, you looked up at him through your lashes. 

“Fuck me, Simon Riley. And don’t you dare pull out.” 

The look on his face turned feral as he hauled you closer, lining his cock up with your wet entrance before pressing in. Your mouth parted wide, but no sound came out as the burning stretch of his cock overtook your senses. Simon let out choked off grunts, fingers clutching into the sheets as he slowly pressed into you. 

Shallowly thrusting, he sunk deeper and his hand moved to cup the top of your head, rubbing affectionately before he finally managed to sink in all the way with a low groan. 

“I know it’s big, I know. Doing so well for me, takin’ it so nicely.” Resting his forehead against yours, Simon inhaled deeply before opening his eyes, staring down at your face. His expression softened as he reached down to wipe a stray tear with his thumb, caressing your cheekbone in the process

“Simon!” You mewled, rocking your hips as your walls clenched, the initial stretch of his cock slowly fading and the need for more slowly rose in you. However, before you could get a rhythm going, a firm hand pressed onto your hip, halting all movement and you blinked your eyes open. 

Above you, Simon’s eyes were squeezed shut with his brows pinched together. His breath was coming out in short pants as sweat beaded on his brow. Frowning, you went to push yourself up to talk to him, but the movement made him release a choked off moan and both of his hands clamped down on your hips, effectively pinning you to him. 

“Don’t— fuck— don’t fucking move.” His voice was rough, on edge as his fingertips dug into the soft flesh surrounding your hips. “Jesus fuck, you’re gripping me tight. Don’t— don’t think I’m gonna last.” 

Reaching out, you gripped his strong bicep and squeezed lightly. 

“It’s okay. Just fuck me Simon please!” 

He didn’t need any further prompting. Wrapping your legs around his waist, Simon began to shift his hips forward, dragging his cock in and out of you slowly. 

“I know, princess, I know.” His voice was hoarse as he ground himself deep into you, the rough hairs on the base of his cock brushing pleasurably against your clit as he circled his hips.

“My pretty girl,” His chest rumbled as he spoke, almost whispering the words to you, “Takin’ my cock so well. Feels so good, lovie. So tight around me.” 

Moaning your assent for him to continue and dragging your nails down his chest, nails that he’d paid for, he finally snapped. Lifting your hips, he angled you how he wanted, throwing one of your legs over his shoulders as he began to fuck into you. It felt like the wind was being punched out of your body with every thrust, but you couldn’t stop yourself crying out with every stretch of his cock. 

“Simon… god fuck! Please, need it.” 

“Fuck, baby I know. I know you do. Feel so fucking good. So fucking tight and wet around me.” Groaning, he pushed forward, placing a hand next to your head as he folded your body and thrust into you hard. You wrapped your hand around his wrist, using it to anchor yourself as you moved your hips to meet every single one of his thrusts, moaning like you were being paid for it. 

“Pretty girl… so pretty on my cock… feels like fucking heaven.” He grunted, panting as he kept his eyes fixed to your face, watching every subtle shift of pleasure that etched itself onto your expression. 

“Need to fill you. Make you mine.” His voice was becoming ragged and airy, signalling how close he was to his release. 

“I am yours, Simon. Only yours.” Whispering into his ear, you clenched your walls around his cock, making the pace of his thrusts stutter as you felt your final orgasm of the evening get pulled from your lax body, making you gasp breathlessly. 

“Oh shit.” Simon moaned, voice cracking as your walls fluttered around him. He grunted, hand gripping onto your hip as he slammed his cock deep into you once, twice before you felt his cock kick inside of you, and he came, his warmth filling you. Lowering his head, he rested it into the crook of your neck as his warm breath fanned over your skin. 

It took several minutes before either of you were coherent again. Simon was first, slowly pulling out of you, rolling you over so he could nestle behind you, holding you against his body. 

“My good girl. My sweet little cherry.” Soft kisses trailed down the back of your neck as he hummed softly, contentedly, his heart beating steadily against you. This was perfect, you thought, and you couldn’t be happier.

Happy Birthday to you xx

[nina-ya]

Request since you want something nsfw: reader getting horny and interrupting Law while he’s working/studying, reader sucking his cock under the desk (out of view) when someone suddenly enters the room, Law having to control his breathing and pretend everything’s fine, then reader getting absolutely railed against the desk when the other person leaves the room. Happy writing! x

A/N: HI NONNIE!! thank you for being patient with me! I enjoyed this a little too much and made this much longer than I originally intended but here!! Pairing: Law x AFAB!reader CW: NSFW MINORS DNI, oral sex (male receiving), masturbation, would this be exhibitionism? ima say that for now! unprotected sex (wrap it up yall), law calls reader a slut like twice, creampie, rough sex • masterlist • ko-fi • discord server •

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

You tried to hold back and wait for Law to wrap up his work. He told you it would only just be ‘a bit longer.’ That was 3 hours ago. You tried so desperately to wait, going through the motions of distracting yourself: flipping through a book, taking a shower, even just lying on Law’s bed, legs dangling off the side The longer Law sat at his desk though, jotting down notes and muttering under his breath, the more restless you became. 

Impatience was soon overshadowed by desire and every glance at him, every time he brushed his fingers over his hair, every shift of his body sent heat pooling between your legs. The way he looked so focused, so intent on his work, only added fuel to the flame. And as the minutes dragged on, your frustration grew.

You bite your lip and glance over at him from where you sat, letting out a huff. He looked so serene, so unaffected, it was as if the idea of getting lost in you hadn’t even crossed his mind. 

Enough was enough. 

You got up and padded over to him. He didn’t notice you at first, too engrossed in whatever he was writing down. You were now behind him, hands reaching up and gently sliding over his shoulders, and in response he just stiffened slightly, barely acknowledging your presence. 

“I said I’d be done soon,” he muttered, but that rasp in his voice told you that he wasn’t quite as unaffected by your presence as he seemed. 

You leaned down, pressing into his back, and your fingers trailed down his chest, slowly. Your lips brushed the shell of his ear as you whispered, “Three hours is hardly ‘soon,’ Law.”

You could feel him tensing up below you, his body going stiff beneath your touch. But he still didn’t look up at you. 

“Come on,” you murmur, “just take a break, you need one.” you pull his chair back, the legs dragging against the floor and you shift so now you’re in front of him. Law watched you, pen still gripped in his hand, and he called out your name in a warning tone. 

You ignored the warning in his voice, sinking to your knees and shimmying slightly underneath the desk with a playful grin. You wanted to make him lose control, to force him out of that concentrated calm. 

Your fingers made quick work of the button and zipper of his jeans, and before he could protest, you were freeing him from the confines of his pants. His cock was already hard, the weight of it heavy as you stroked him slowly, teasing him with feather-light touches that had him gripping the pen in his hand until his knuckles turned white. 

“Stop that,” he growled, though it lacked any conviction. His body betrayed him, hips twitching slightly as you leaned forward and pressed a kiss to his tip. 

“Make me,” you whisper, lips brushing the head before taking him into your mouth. Law hissed out, his head tipping back slightly as you swallowed him down. The tip of your mouth, the wet warmth of your tongue as you swirled around him– it was everything that he didn’t realize he needed. Law let out a sigh as he caved to your advances, dropping the pen in his head with a small thud as it hit the floor. ‘Well that didn’t last very long’ you thought to yourself as he gave in rather quickly. He leaned back into his chair, breath deepening as one inked hand snaked through your hair, guiding it up and down his length. 

As you slurped and sucked on him, you can't help but let one of your own hands drift lower. The need between your legs is unbearable, the heat pooling in your core is screaming for attention. You part your thighs, fingers slipping beneath the waistband of your underwear, determined to relieve yourself of the building pressure.

The moment your fingers brush your swollen clit, a low moan vibrates in your throat, muffled by Law’s cock between your lips. The sensation sends waves of pleasure surging right to your core, and you grind your hips against your hand as you continue to bob your head, your tongue swirling around the head of his cock in slow, torturous circles.

Your lips glide over Law’s cock, taking him deeper with each movement, your cheeks hollowing as you suck, swirling your tongue around the sensitive tip. “Fuck,” he hisses out, hips beginning to roll in time with your movements, meeting your mouth halfway as you take him in. You hum softly in satisfaction, taking him deeper, your fingers continuing their lazy circle over your clit. 

knock knock knock

Your entire body freezes in place, your mouth still wrapped around Law’s cock, and your heart leaping into your throat. 

“Captain?” a voice calls out, startling you. Fuck it’s Shachi. And he's blissfully unaware of what's happening under this desk. 

Shahi doesn’t even wait before opening the door and stepping inside. Law stiffens, his grip on your hair tightening reflexively as his breath hitches. You hold back the urge to yelp out at the sudden pain in your hair, but the grip loosens thankfully. You see his entire body tense beneath you, but when he speaks up, his voice remains calm. “What is it?”

“I needed to go over some reports with you, do you have a second?” Shachi asked, casually unbothered, as though you are not just a few feet away kneeling under this desk with a cock shoved down your throat. 

Law’s jaw clenches, his gaze briefly flickering to you, eyes narrow as if daring you to move. But you can’t help yourself. A wicked idea flickers through your mind, and you slowly take him once more, the wet heat of your tongue sliding against his length. 

Law sucks in a sharp breath, his hand trembling against your scalp as he struggles to keep his voice even. “Can it wait?” he mutters out rather quickly. 

“Um, we need to get this sorted now-”

“Get on with it.” Law interrupts, praying that Shachi will wrap this up quickly. 

“There’s been an issue with the supply inventory. I wanted to get your approval for–”

Your tongue flicks over his sensitive tip as you bob your head slowly, teasing him in a way that has him biting down on his lower lip to keep from groaning. His thighs tense, cock twitching in your mouth, but he somehow finds the strength to keep it together. 

“Mm… just leave it on my desk,” Law says, voice heavy and more strained than usual. He leans forward slightly, trying to maintain that illusion of composure as you continue to torment him beneath the desk. 

You hollow your cheeks, sucking him harder, determined to make him lose his cool. The satisfaction of knowing that you are pushing him to the edge while he tries to maintain a normal conversation makes your own arousal spike, and you grind your hips against your hand once more, holding back a moan of your own as you work him over. 

Shachi is still talking, something about requisitions and updates, but Law’s mind is far from focused on his words. He lets out a shuddering breath as you take him deeper, the head of his cock brushing the back of your throat. The grip in your hair tightens as a means of warning you, but you ignore it, your lips and tongue moving in a rhythm that is aimed at driving him mad. 

You glance up at him again, watching as his jaw clenches harder, his eyes squeeze shut for a moment as he fights that internal battle. His entire body is taut with the effort of holding back, but you can feel how close he is to losing control. 

Law’s voice breaks just slightly as he interrupts Shachi mid-sentence. “Leave it,” he practically barks out, impatience dripping in his tone. “Now.”

There’s a pause, and you hear Shachi shift, clearly caught off guard by the abruptness. “Uh… sure thing.”

Your heart races as you hear the door shut with a ‘click’ and the second it closes, Law’s hand tightens in your hair, pulling your mouth off of him with a harsh tug. You whine out, the sound echoing in the sudden silence, and you can see his amber eyes darken, igniting with an intensity that sends a shiver down your spine. There’s something dangerously possessive in his gase as it locks onto yours, and before you can blink, he’s yanking you up from under the desk, forcing you to stand as the chair scrapes back violently. 

“You little brat,” he hisses, spinning you around and slamming your chest against the desk, his body pressed tightly against your back. You barely have time to brace yourself as he tears your underwear down, his fingers sliding between your soaked folds, inked fingers being coated by your essence. “Thought you can tease me and get away with it?”

You whimper out in response, and you push your hips back against him, desperate for more. His fingers graze over your throbbing clit, ripping whimpers from you with every slight touch, before pulling you away, leaving you trembling with anticipation. 

Law growls low in his throat, his chest pressed flush against your back as he leans over you. His breath is hot against your neck and you grip the edge of the desk, knuckles turning white. His fingers, still slick with your arousal, dig into your hips, guiding you into position. The tension between you two is nearly about to snap, and you can feel the heat radiating off of him as his cock throbs against your entrance, teasing you with shallow thrusts. 

“Is this what you wanted?” he rasps, voice rough. His hand slides up your spine, fingers dancing along your back until they reach your neck. In one motion, he pushes your head down, pressing your cheek against the cold surface of the desk. “Answer me.” 

You try to speak but all that escapes is a whimper, your body trembling beneath him as you strain against his hold. His grip tightens, fingers pressing into your neck as he holds you firmly in place. 

“I asked you a question,” he hisses out, his hips grinding against your ass, pushing you harder against the desk. “Is this what you wanted, you little minx?”

“Yes,” you gasp, “Yes Law. I need you.”

The confession seemed to snap whatever thin thread of restraint he had left and he pushed his cock in, slamming until he was buried all the way inside. The moment that Law thrusts into you, the world narrows to that intoxicating sensation of him stretching you. Your body jerks forward with the force, the hard edge off the desk biting into your hips as your hole swallows every inch of him. The fullness is almost too much, too sudden, and a loud cry rips from your throat. 

His hand keeps you firmly in place as you squirm beneath him, overwhelmed by the intensity of his thrusts, each one rougher than the last. You are completely at his mercy, and the thought of it only makes your body pulse with even more desire. 

His other hand trails along your side, the touch deceptively soft as it makes its way to your waist, squeezing it with a bruising grip. He pulls you back onto him as he slams into you again and again, the sound of skin meeting skin filling the room alongside your whimpers and mewls. You can barely think straight, barely holding onto reality as he fuck you deeper, harder, grinding his hips into yours with each thrust. 

“Look at you,” Law growls, his voice thick with need as he looms over you. “So fucking desperate… couldn’t even wait. You wanted to get caught, didn’t you? That’s why you didn’t stop when we had some company, right?”

Heat flushes your face as the embarrassment of just how right he was and the thrill of it just hits you. You try to shake your head, try to deny it, but the truth still clings to the edges of your mind. You could never admit that the idea of almost getting caught only turned you on more. 

Law’s chuckle is low and dark. “Didn’t care who was in the room, did you?” he continues, each thrust accentuating his words. “So fucking impatient… just had to have me. What would they have thought if you knew what a little slut you are?”

Tears prick at the corners of your eyes, the discomfort of the desk digging into your hips, the way your face is squished against the surface, the feeling of his cock dragging in and out of you, the overwhelming pleasure bubbling up inside of you, the sting of his words– all combining and sending your emotions into a state of disarray and gasping for air. 

“I-I couldn’t wait,” you choke out, your voice a broken whimper. “I needed you, Law, I–”

“You needed me,” he mocks, punctuating his words with a particularly brutal thrust that rips a scream from your throat. “Yeah? You needed to risk getting caught with my cock in your mouth while someone was standing right there? You're fucking shameless.”

“I-I can’t,” you gasp, your voice breaking as the tears spill down your cheeks. The pleasure building inside of you is unbearable, the pressure coiling tighter and tighter until you feel like you are going to explode. “Law, please”

“You wanted this,” he responds, his voice rough and low as he keeps pounding into you. “Wanted me to fuck you like this, didn’t you?” The hand that was on your neck releases and threads through your hair, gripping and pulling your head back, earning a yelp from you. “You just had to get me riled up like that. Well, here you fucking are, and you’re gonna take it like the good little slut you are, right?”

Law shifts his hips and the head of his cock starts to hit that spot inside of you that makes your vision blur and makes you forget your name. Your cries of pleasure seem to heighten in pitch and your body starts to tremble more. You attempt to whimper out something along the lines of ‘right there!’ and ‘don’t stop’ hoping that Law can decipher your pleasure-induced babbling. And he does, continuing to snap his hips into you as you rapidly approach the edge. 

It doesn't take long before you are thrown over the edge. You chant his name, your body convulsing as your orgasm takes over your entire body, every muscle in your body spasming and twitching as the pleasure crashes over you. Your walls clamp down on him, pulsing rapidly as he fucks you through your orgasm. 

Law is not far behind, releasing the hand from your hair and planting it on the other side of your hips, his thrusts speeding up before he stills, panting heavily as his cock twitches inside of you, ropes of his warm seed filling you. 

You both just stay there for a moment, chests heaving as you attempt to catch your breath. And then slowly, Law pulls you out, earning a whimper from you at the feeling of suddenly feeling empty. He grips your sides and lifts you up, turning you around and sitting you on the desk, now facing him. One of his hands slides up to cup your cheek, wiping away the tear streaks with the pad of his thumb. His touch is much more gentle now, juxtaposing the behavior just moments ago as he leans down and presses a soft kiss to the side of your face. 

“You did so good,” he murmurs, his voice losing that sharp edge. 

Before you can respond, Law captures your lips in a slow, deep kiss. It's so much different from the roughness from before. 

“Thank you for making me take a break,” he mutters against your lips, his voice clearly having a teasing edge to it. And he leans in and kisses you again, the kiss this time being much slower as his hands roam your body, this time with softness and loving as if he is taking his time this time around to memorize the way your skin feels under his fingertips. Law’s lips trail from your mouth to your jawline, planting featherlight kisses against your skin, sending tingles down your spine. 

You smile, and a soft chuckle escapes your lips as your fingers curl into the fabric of his shirt. “You needed it,” you whisper with a light touch of your own as your hands slide up his chest. 

Law hums in agreement, pulling back and his eyes flicker down to your lips for a moment before capturing them in another slow, deep kiss. His hands, no longer urgent, caress your body with a newfound patience, his fingers gliding ofer your body as if he is savoring every touch. It’s clear now that this isn’t over– not for him, not yet. There is a different hunger in his kiss, one that screams of something far less rushed. 

He pulls away slightly to murmur, “I want to take my time with you this time.” And he kisses you deeply once more as he coaxes you into a slow burning fire that reignites between you. 

The night stretches ahead, filled with more touches, more kisses, more shared noises of pleasure as he takes his time, cherishing every second with you. 

[kissitbttr]

dilf!toji giving you a ride back to the party

a small follow up from this !

|

there has been times where you fantasize about hot older men with your friends. all of you agree that they are just better at everything.

you remember this one time when you had a crush on the first older guy you had found attractive. he was your dad’s closest friend. you had always loved admiring him from afar, undressing him with your eyes, imagining how he’d look as he fucks you in your bed. sadly, he’s married. which means, you can’t do anything about it.

one of your friends encouraged you to break it up though, steal him away from his wife in which you reply with a disgusting look on your face. because never in a million years you would stoop that low.

no guys ever came close as your dad’s best friend after that. dismissing every single college guys who tried to get into your pants, tossing every written numbers on a paper from them into a trash can. your ex was the only exception though. why? because he was two years older than you. that counts for something, right?

until now.

you sit rather quiet nervously in the passenger’s seat. fingers drumming slightly against your thick thighs, stealing glances every now and then at the handsome stranger who offered you a ride before,

and boy, does he look so hot doing it.

he leans comfortably against the seat with one hand on the wheel while the other perched on his thigh. looking like a perfect dream

dear god, please do not make me wet tonight

“thank you for the food, sir. i love it” you give him a smile, shoving another fry into your mouth. “i’m starving”

toji cranes his neck to look at you, mirroring your smile. “i thought i told you to call me toji?”

“oh yeah! sorry, i forgot!” you let out a nervous giggle, finger toying with the skirt of your dress. discreetly pulling it down further since it keeps riding up,

“i didn’t catch your name though. mind telling me?” he starts, putting his focus back on the road while taking a turn,

“i’m y/n” you respond to the beautiful dark haired man,

“pretty name for a pretty girl” he compliments, grinning widely at you. chuckling after seeing you blush. “still in college?”

you nod. “mhmm!”

“you like it?”

“pft! as if!” you roll your eyes, making him laugh at your comment. “college is insanity. too much work, but the parties help”

“i bet” he replies, head shaking. “is it like a regular thing?”

“kind of. we always do it once a week, or twice…? can’t exactly count. the frats usually the one who held it, so I can’t really tell” you shrug your shoulders, eyes looking over to the window. “what about you, sir-toji?”

he snorts, running his fingers over his hair and you almost let out a soft gasp.“oh I don’t party, sweetheart. i’m too old for that.”

“can’t be that old” you giggle, reaching out to poke his side with a finger. you don’t know where that confidence comes from, could be from alcohol,

toji raises an eyebrow at the sudden touch, but makes no comment. “i’m pushing 40, so definitely old” he smirks at you,

40..?

oh…

a look of surprise is taking over your face. “really?” you see him nod again in confirmation. “you don’t look like you’re that old”

“how old did you think i am?”

“hmm, 27?”

he barks a laugh, and you never heard something so pretty. “now you’re just being polite, sweetheart”

god, he really is making you swoon with all the terms of endearment . you wonder if he’s married or taken,

“are you single?”

he’s taken aback at the question, eyebrow raising. “why, want to take me out on a date?”

giggling, you toss a hair behind your shoulder before shrugging it. shifting your body to completely facing him now. “maybeee”

toji only laughs at your confidence. the small pouty look you’re giving just makes him want to give you a peck on the lips. maybe two.

you’re so damn cute, he’d give you that.

“yes, i am. divorced about two years ago.”

“oh… what happened? if you don’t mind me asking.”

he shrugs like it’s nothing. “didn’t work out. the whole marriage was draining me. but i got a little boy who i love dearly and would tear down the whole fucking sky for”

he’s got a kid?! holyshit,

“how old is he?”

“just turned two last month” he smiles at the thought of his little megumi sleeping soundly back home. “how about you, sweetheart? got marriage written down on your plan?”

“oh of course! it’s definitely on my bucket list!” you sigh dreamily at the thought of you walking down the aisle. “not any time soon though! i like being like this for a moment”

“good. you enjoy that while it lasts.” he advises. “hate to overstep, but what’s the deal with your ex before?”

hearing that makes your smile drop and body slouch. eyes dropping down to your lap. “oh..”

toji senses that bubbly personality of your is wearing off soon as he mentions that, which causes him to panic. “shit, I didn’t mean to make you sad, darling. sorry. you don’t have to explain”

you shake your head, clearing your throat. “no, no! it’s fine it was just—“ you cut yourself with a sad sigh. “he wanted.. to have sex with me at the party but.. i didn’t want to.. because we were drunk! and it wouldn’t be right for us to do it while we’re drunk, right?! so i told him no… over and over and — he didn’t take it well so… he called me a boring bitch and broke it off..”

his eyebrows deepening hearing that, hand around the wheel tighten at the thought of some lowlife punk trying to force himself at a sweet girl like you to have sex,

“you fucking with me?” his tone rising, seeing you shake your head as a no. “my god that’s not— sweetheart, you know that it was not your fault right? was that why you looked so sad? because you thought that you should’ve gave him what he wanted?”

you toy with the hem of your skirt, still looking down before nodding. “…yes.. because maybe then he wouldn’t be mad”

“no.. oh god, no.. don’t you ever, ever think that. what you did was the right thing, baby. you should be proud for standing up to yourself, you know that?”

slowly you look up to him, seeing his genuine eyes looking into yours. “okay..”

but toji doesn’t buy that, instead he shakes his head. “no, i want to hear you say it, come on. say ‘i did the right thing’”

a smile slowly creeps up to your face while your cheeks are heating up. “tojiii” you whine,

he smiles back at you, “come on. say it”

“i—i did the right thing” you repeat slowly,

“good girl” he praises, and that almost makes your body goes slump and your thighs to squeeze together,

when was the last time someone called you that?

throughout the ride, you and toji talk a lot about each other. from a-z. and you can’t help but admit how refreshing it is to finally have someone to talk to like this. it was a non-stop conversation, accompanied by the soft tunes playing in the background—thanks to your choice of music—

you may not notice this but toji is purposely taking the long way just so the conversation stays a bit longer,hoping you don’t realize what he’s doing. it’s not like you would actually complain, you enjoy his company.

despite your age, toji finds you to be the most interesting woman he has ever met. the way you talk freely and articulate words when you speak to him is so attractive. he loves a woman who has her own opinion on everything and you had just shown him that.

you’re smart, witty, have a great sense of humor and not to mention,

really fucking gorgeous.

toji feels like a downright pervert when he tries to sneak a glance at your soft plump thighs every second. imagining how they would look around his head. or the fat of your tits when you bounce on his cock, giving him the perfect view. and your lips,

god, your pink. glossy . lips.

“is this the place?” he pulls up in front of the big frat house where he can see a few kids standing on the porch, typical red solo cups in their hands. his eyes carefully observe the scene before him. “shit, they’re really getting shit faced huh?”

you laugh, looking over where one kid had puked all over the lawn making you grimace. “they’re not all like that everyday”

“hmm sure, sweetheart” he rolls his eyes, but smile anyways. “be careful now, yeah? you got my number saved?”

nodding, you take one good look at him before unbuckling your seatbelt. “yup! thank you for the ride, toji. you’re a real life saver!”

“don’t mention it. keep an eye out on any one who wants to try something with you. especially your ex. let me know if he’s bothering you, i’ll come quickly as i can” he informs,

your heart feels like its about to jump out of your chest, “i will, thanks again and oh! wait— can i … see you again?”

he quirks an eyebrow at that, a cocky smirk stretches upon his pretty lips causing you to glance down at it,

“you want to?” his finger and thumb softly tapping against the wheel

“i do” you reply quickly, biting down on your lower lip as your hand fiddle against the handle of his car door. “this can’t be the last time, right?”

no, of course not he thinks. because he wants to see you too. if not more than you want to see him. might as well take you out on a date, or a stroll. anything. as long as he gets to see that pretty face of yours longer than just an hour.

“you got it, sweetheart. keep a look out for a text from me, then yeah?” his hand then reach our to grab your other one, giving a soft kiss on the knuckles while maintaining an eye contact with you,

you let out a shaky breathe with a small cute smile as he rubs his thumb against your skin. before you can even move your hand to open the door, he does it for you. shooting you another smile of his.

you grab your purse and climb out of the vehicle, waving your hand at him. “good night , toji”

“goodnight, y/n. i’ll see you very soon” he winks before you close the door and see himself drive off,

you stand there for a while with a bright smile on your face that never seems to leave,

you really can’t wait to see him again

—

next part, first date?👀

a/n: also, planning to make this into a series <3

taglist:

@fushipurro

@crocodilethesir

@chilichopsticks

@trentknd

@tojis-ball-sack

@hellokittyloverrxox

@xavlyzn

[sweetlikemonie]

𝐈𝐍 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐌𝐎𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆

word count: 1.3k

content warnings: 18+ minors dni, early morning off the wake up sex, choking, unprotected sex (wrap it up), cream pie, dirty talk, use of mama, mami, baby & daddy twice (2x), connie refers to your pussy as “she” once.

author’s note: a drabble (that was rushed and got a bit longer than intended), loosely based off this tweet as well as an experience of mine cause i miss him 🥲 decided to go with connie for this. first post tho lmk how y’all like it lol.

You stirred awake at the sound of Connie’s 4am alarm, signaling he had to leave soon. He was always on the road doing whatever he did for work, but never missed the opportunity to push up on you when he could. Though you were awake, you could still hear the faint snoring of him behind you. You hated when those damn alarms woke up everyone else but the person they were supposed to.

“Con, your alarm.” You reached your arm back to push at his chest, though a feeble ass attempt because you were still half asleep. It must’ve worked since you felt him turn over to hit the snooze on his phone, before feeling his tattooed arm wrap around your shoulders, and the other your waist; pulling you tight against his chest.

“Morning mama. You sleep good?” His deep voice spoke against the side of your neck, placing a small kiss where his face rested. You nodded as you whispered back, “Good morning. You woke me up.”Feeling your skin heat up at the sound of his morning voice. He didn’t have to do much of anything to turn you on, he could be making himself a sandwich and you’d immediately feel a wetness pooling in your underwear. And it was definitely mutual, Connie was infatuated with you. He would live in your skin if he could.

Your hips started to shift as you rocked back against his pelvis, flashbacks of just a few hours earlier with his face between your legs hitting you like a pound of bricks. His free hand pressed moved slowly from your waist to the outside of your underwear, groaning to himself softly at the feeling of how damp and warm they felt. He loved how you were always so wet for him.

“I’m sorry mami.” He kissed at your neck again, his hand trailing slowly down your chest, fingers tracing your nipples, and his neck kisses turning into slow sucking. “What’re you doing? Don’t you need to leave Connie?” You spoke through low moans, trying to navigate all of the sensations at once. You felt him literally everywhere.

Connie chuckled lowly, pausing at his assault on your neck. “I gotta be in you before I go. I feel you pushing back on me baby, just lift that leg up for daddy.”

You do as you’re told, lifting your leg and wrapping your arm under your thigh. Connie released himself from his boxers, his morning wood standing tall and thick hitting against his stomach.

His dick was just as pretty as the rest of him. Tan at the base and shaft, with a slight pink tip that burned red whenever he was hard as a rock. He wasted no time as he slipped inside of you, the stretch was painful but oh so satisfying. It had been a minute since y’all had last seen each other, but he knew you’d get used to him in no time.

Connie’s hips rocked in and out at a slow pace so you could feel every vein and inch he had to offer. A hand came to wrap around your neck, the restriction of airflow causing you to grip his girth tightly. His lips rested against the side of your neck. “I missed digging this pussy out. She always gets so fucking sloppy for me.” He grunted, you were literally dripping down his dick, your wetness starting to fall on your thighs the more he fucked into you.

Your eyes were shut in pure bliss. Moans and whimpers slipping out of your mouth quietly, you tried to not make too much noise but you loved talking nasty to him back. It made him nut quicker and fuck better.

“You making me feel so good baby. R-right there.” His hand reached around to toy around with your clit, rubbing slow but rough circles that begin to make your head spin.

“Yeah? Don’t hold back from me.” You could hear him smirking behind you before he swiftly pulled out. You huffed at the sudden loss before you felt him turn you to face him and lift both of your legs to your chest, the pudge of your tummy and the fat of your pussy peaking through the little sliver of space between your thighs. “Hold them hands right there and look at me.” He spoke lowly, your eyes flicking up to his intimidating gaze.

Connie held your eye contact for a few seconds before he looked back down at your pussy, letting a big glob of spit fall from his lips to your clit. He immediately pressed his tip against your clit, stroking back and forth making you to throw your head back.

Plat! Plat! Plat! was the sound of his spit and your slick mixed together as he repeatedly knocked the head of his dick against your clit. “That feel good don’t it mami? You want it?” You nodded your head, with a bat of your eyelashes and bottom lip in between your teeth. “I want it baby. I want you in me so bad.” How could he say no to that face of yours?

He slipped in again, a loud hiss leaving his mouth as he eased into your wetness. He wasted no time as his pace quickened and deepened in you. His hands rested on the back of your thighs, pushing your legs against your chest so you had no choice but to take his harsh and deep strokes. You wrap your arms around his neck and pull him closer to you, lips touching the outside of his ear. You could feel yourself getting closer to your climax and you wanted him to hear every bit of it.

“I’m gonna cum daddy. All on that dick.” You muttered lowly, licking the shell of his ear. You felt Connie shudder inside of you, his pace faltering just for a second before he got back in his zone. He began angling his hips, planning to reach a spot deeper inside you, he refused to let you one up him. “Yeah? Finna make a mess? Wet me up I wanna feel that shit. ” His hand gripped at your jaw, lifting your head up to bring your lips to his. He kissed you sloppily, tongue darting out to swipe across your bottom lip.

You felt a pressure building up in your stomach, you were so close you could taste it. His hand found your clit again, rubbing steadily at your clit, sloppy kisses being placed on your neck. He drilled relentlessly at your g-spot.

You panted heavily, your hands gripping tightly at the sheets. “Fuck baby! M’cumming!” You cried out, back arching off the bed, your eyes fluttering as you creamed all over him. It was the hardest you had ever came.

He continued his pace, the feeling of you clenching against him so tightly triggering his release sooner than he planned. “Shit pretty. You gone let me cum in that pussy? I don’t wanna pull out.”

You nodded mindlessly. “Gimme that nut baby.” You don’t know what came over you. Sex talk was definitely dangerous and put you in sticky situations but you’d think about the consequences to your actions later. All you cared about in that moment was feeling everything Connie had to give you.

It was all the confirmation he needed before he gave you a few more strokes, each one getting more sloppier than the last, letting you know he was close to cumming. “Ah s-shitttt!” He hissed lowly, shallowly stroking as he released the rest of his load into you. He pulled out of you slowly, watching his cum pour out of you right behind him. You both lay there limp and naked, panting softly as you came down from your highs.

“Am I forgiven mami?” Connie broke the silence after a few minutes. When you didn’t respond immediately he glanced over at disheveled appearance, chest rising slowly as you snored slightly. He chuckled as pulled the covers against your body. “Put that ass to sleep.”

[thedensworld]

Taste Me | C.Sc

Pairing: Seungcheol x reader

Genre: Friends to Lovers, fluff

Summary: Can't friends taste each other? Seungcheol didn't know the answer. But he was certain that it'll be fair only if he could also taste you.

(I) heard you back together and if that's true, you'll just have to taste me when he's kissing you - Taste by Sabrina Carpenter.

Seungcheol couldn’t quite grasp what he was feeling right now. No matter how hard he tried, sleep wouldn’t come. The image of you crying earlier today haunted him, replaying in his mind. Your voice trembled as you confessed, breaking down in front of him.

"I feel like trash. I feel unworthy and stupid!"

It hit him like a punch to the gut. This was his fault. He was the one who introduced you to Jeonghan, one of his closest friends. Jeonghan was a good guy, and Seungcheol hadn’t thought twice about it. He believed you'd be in good hands. But what he failed to consider was that Jeonghan had just broken up with his ex only two months prior. Seungcheol had been oblivious to the signs—how Jeonghan had used you as a temporary escape, a second choice until his ex decided to take him back.

Your voice echoed in his mind again.

"I saw them kissing in his car when I was trying to fix everything... Why is this happening to me?"

The weight of your pain sat heavily on Seungcheol’s chest. You and Jeonghan had been dating for three months, and from the outside, everything seemed perfect. He genuinely believed you were happy. But then, out of nowhere, Jeonghan had told him one night that you both decided to go your separate ways. Seungcheol hadn’t pried for details. He didn’t ask why. Instead, he had foolishly apologized to Jeonghan, thinking it was you who had caused the breakup.

Now, as he lay awake in the silence of his room, guilt gnawed at him. How had he missed it? How had he misjudged his own friend? Seungcheol realized too late that he should have been there for you, and not assumed that Jeonghan had been blameless. The thought of you hurting because of his oversight made his stomach twist.

He closed his eyes, but all he could see was your tear-streaked face, your broken voice, and the weight of your words. He owed you more than just an apology. He owed you understanding.

Seungcheol stood waiting in front of your office building, checking the time on his phone. Your shift ended at 5, and he figured a nice dinner might help lift your spirits. When you finally emerged from the entrance, your eyes landed on him, and he could see the surprise on your face.

"Hey, what are you doing here?" you asked, adjusting your bag on your shoulder.

"Wanna go to our spot?" Seungcheol asked, a soft smile tugging at his lips. He was referring to the little Chinese restaurant you two had frequented since your college days.

You hesitated for a moment, then nodded. "Sure, why not?"

Seungcheol, a freelance photographer, had known you since university when you worked together on a project during your final year. You, a fashion journalist now, hadn’t expected the friendship to last this long, but here you were—still close, still dependable.

Dinner was quiet but comfortable. The usual chatter was replaced by something heavier, unspoken but felt in the air between you two. As you both left the restaurant, Seungcheol walked beside you in silence before finally mumbling, "I’m sorry."

You stopped, turning your head towards him, eyebrows raised in confusion, but you stayed silent, waiting for him to continue.

Clearing his throat, Seungcheol added, "You've been through a lot because of me. I feel terrible about it. I should’ve seen what was happening with Jeonghan sooner. I’m really sorry."

You nodded slowly, the understanding clear in your eyes. "It’s about the other night, isn’t it?" you asked, referring to the night you called him, drunk and heartbroken, from a bar. He had picked you up, and in your haze, you had told him everything about Jeonghan—the cheating, the lies, the hurt.

"I should be the one apologizing," you said quietly. "I shouldn’t have called you like that."

Seungcheol shook his head immediately, waving his hands dismissively. "No, call me anytime. That’s what friends are for, right?"

After that night, life resumed its usual pace. You and Seungcheol continued as normal friends—occasional texts here and there, but your meetings became less frequent. That was until one day when Seungcheol showed up at your new apartment to help with the furniture. You had just moved into a bigger place, and he was putting the finishing touches on a cupboard while you sorted through boxes of clothes.

As you carried over a box, Seungcheol noticed something familiar—the colors and fabrics, the oversized sweaters, and a couple of t-shirts that clearly weren’t yours.

"Those are Jeonghan’s, aren’t they?" he asked, unable to hide the hint of irritation in his voice.

You glanced at the clothes and smiled, a touch of irony in your expression. "Yeah, they are. I found out men's clothes are way more comfortable when I was dating him."

Seungcheol felt a strange tightening in his chest. He couldn’t explain why, but the fact that you still had Jeonghan’s clothes didn’t sit right with him. It boiled something inside him that he didn’t know was there.

"Why haven’t you thrown them out?" he asked, his tone sharper than he intended.

You shrugged nonchalantly, a mischievous grin spreading across your face. "Honestly? I kinda want his new girlfriend to wonder where half his wardrobe disappeared to."

For a moment, Seungcheol was taken aback by your response, but then he couldn’t help the grin that crept onto his own face. He liked how you were handling things—turning the pain into something lighter, almost humorous. It was clever and strong in its own way.

Maybe, Seungcheol thought, he could learn a thing or two from you about how to deal with heartbreak. He didn’t quite understand the shift in his feelings, but one thing was becoming clear—he was starting to like the way you handled the world, and maybe, just maybe, he was starting to see you in a different light.

"Throw them, i get you mine." Seungcheol told you and you squealed, excited to get his expensive wardrobe.

*

You still couldn’t fully process what had happened back at the restaurant during your university magazine club reunion. Seungcheol and you had gone together, and to your surprise, Jeonghan was there too, accompanying his girlfriend Jinah, who was also a member of the club back in the same year as you.

Everything had been going well—casual conversations, light laughter—until Jinah dropped an unexpected bombshell, her voice laced with bitterness.

"So, Y/N dated my boyfriend back then."

The entire table fell silent. You felt every pair of eyes turn toward you. Jeonghan's expression shifted immediately, his lips pressed into a thin line as his gaze darted between you and Jinah. You chose not to respond, not wanting to escalate things. But Seungcheol, ever the protective friend, didn’t hesitate to jump in. He stood up, his voice cutting through the murmurs that had begun to ripple through the group.

"Or maybe," Seungcheol said, his eyes locked on Jinah, "it was you who was dating her boyfriend?"

A collective gasp went through the room as whispers filled the air. You could feel the tension thickening as everyone processed the implication. Jeonghan's face darkened, his brow furrowing.

"Did you just insinuate that I cheated on her?" Jeonghan’s voice was low, controlled, but there was a threat behind it.

Seungcheol smirked, his anger barely concealed. "You didn’t?"

And before anyone could react, fists flew. Tables clattered, chairs scraped against the floor, and suddenly the reunion turned into chaos. You found yourself driving Seungcheol’s car back to your apartment, his knuckles bloodied, and his anger still simmering in the passenger seat.

"I can’t believe I was friends with that bastard," Seungcheol spat, staring out of the window as his chest rose and fell with fury. "You dated him, Y/N? I could’ve been the better man!"

You glanced at him, trying to calm him down. "Yes, Seungcheol. Let’s get inside and treat your wounds before we talk about this."

You parked the car and led him into your apartment. His hand was bleeding from punching the table, and you could tell he had tried to restrain himself from hitting Jeonghan. But the moment Jeonghan touched him first, Seungcheol had lost all control.

"Does it hurt?" you asked softly, reaching up to touch his bruised cheek.

He shook his head, still scowling. "I should’ve hit him a hundred times."

You chuckled, pressing an ice cloth to his cheek. "Take it easy, you gave him enough of a lesson, baby boy."

Seungcheol relaxed slightly as you tended to him, and you couldn’t help but smile as you gently rubbed the crease in his furrowed brow. "Thanks," you whispered, appreciating how fiercely he had defended you. He let out a long sigh, the anger slowly ebbing away.

"Why didn’t you say anything to her?" Seungcheol asked, his voice quieter now, his gaze softening as he looked at you. "You just let her talk. You didn’t defend yourself."

You tilted your head, your eyes meeting his. "No words needed," you replied, your tone calm. "She tastes me every time she kisses him."

Seungcheol took a sharp breath, your words sinking deep. He suddenly realized just how close his face was to yours. His breath hitched, and so did yours. You both froze, the weight of the moment hanging heavy between you. His eyes lingered on your face, and you could feel your heartbeat quicken.

"Is there something on my face?" you asked, blinking and blushing at the intensity of his stare.

Seungcheol shook his head, his voice dropping to a whisper. "No… I just… I feel like I want to kiss you right now."

Your breath caught in your throat. The ice cloth in your hand slipped and fell, but Seungcheol was quick to catch it—and your hand. He placed the cloth back in your grip, but his eyes never left yours. Slowly, his hands moved to your cheeks, his touch gentle, his thumbs grazing your skin softly.

"It’s unfair," Seungcheol murmured, his voice low and husky. "If they can taste you… but I can’t."

Your heart raced as the tension between you became almost unbearable. You shifted slightly, uncertain but not resisting. "Aren’t we just friends?" you asked, your voice barely above a whisper.

Seungcheol’s lashes fluttered as he gazed at you, his breath warm against your skin. "Can’t friends taste each other?"

Before you could respond, he leaned in, closing the distance between you, his lips brushing against yours softly, testing, waiting. The kiss was gentle at first, a mere whisper of a touch, but when you responded, moving your lips against his, Seungcheol immediately deepened the kiss, pulling you closer.

In that moment, you realized you wanted this, too. You wanted him.

Seungcheol stood up from the couch, his hands sliding around your waist as you instinctively wrapped your arms around his neck. The tension between you two thickened, electric in the air, as Seungcheol gently flipped you onto the couch, his body hovering above yours, trapping you beneath him in a way that made your heart race.

"You make me crazy," Seungcheol whispered, his breath hot against your skin as he pressed soft kisses along the curve of your neck. His hands roamed the contours of your body, setting fire to every inch they touched. A soft moan escaped your lips, spurring him on.

He paused just long enough to pull off his T-shirt and toss it aside before finding his way back to you. His lips crashed against yours, hungry and desperate, as if kissing you was the only thing that mattered.

In between heated kisses, he mumbled, "I can't believe we're making out."

You broke the kiss just enough to look into his eyes, your breath coming in short gasps. His gaze was intense, almost burning into yours.

"I've been wanting this." You confessed, your voice soft but fillfilled with the weight of your desire.

Seungcheol eyes darkened, flickering with something raw and deep. His grips on your waist tightened slightly, his lips parted as he gazed at you, completely captivated by you. In that moment, unspoken tension that had simmered between you both for so long was finally released, and there was no turning back.

Seungcheol's eyes stayed locked on yours, the intensity between you growing as he leaned in again, his lips brushing softly against your jawline, trailing down to your collarbone. The warmth of his breath sent a shiver through you, and you arched slightly under his touch.

His hands moved lower, grazing your sides, his fingertips tracing over your skin as if memorizing every inch. There was a desperation in the way he kissed you, like he had been holding back for far too long. You could feel his heartbeat quickening, matching your own.

The weight of him against you, the heat of his skin—it was all overwhelming, intoxicating in the best way. Every touch, every kiss felt like it was pulling you deeper into something you’d both been avoiding for so long. But now, there was no hesitation, no second thoughts—just the raw, undeniable connection between you two that had finally come to the surface.

Seungcheol’s lips moved back to yours, the kiss deepening, more passionate, as his hand moved up to cup your face, his thumb brushing lightly across your cheek. You sighed into the kiss, letting yourself fully give in to the moment.

He pulled away briefly, his forehead resting against yours as he caught his breath. His voice was soft but serious. "Are you sure this is what you want?"

Your heart skipped a beat at the tenderness in his tone. You nodded, your hand reaching up to stroke his cheek gently. "I’ve never been more sure."

That was all the reassurance he needed. Seungcheol’s lips crashed onto yours again, more fiercely this time, his hands pulling you even closer, as if he couldn’t get enough. The air between you sizzled, filled with the heat of long-buried feelings finally set free.

In that moment, nothing else mattered—just you and him, and the realization that this was exactly where you were both meant to be.

*

"Hey, love," Seungcheol greeted you warmly as you slid into the passenger seat of his car. Without hesitation, he leaned in to press a kiss against your lips, a sweet and familiar gesture that never failed to make your heart flutter.

You had just finished work, and Seungcheol had promised to drive you home so you could make dinner together. After the kiss, you pulled back slightly to put on your seatbelt, but you noticed Seungcheol still staring at you, his eyes lingering on your face with an intensity that made you feel self-conscious.

"Is there something on my face?" you asked, raising a brow in question. Instead of answering, he smirked, licking his lips.

Realizing some of your lip gloss had transferred to his mouth, you quickly reached over to wipe it off, laughing softly as you did.

"You taste different today," Seungcheol remarked, his voice playful yet low. "Where's my strawberry lips?" he teased, glancing at you as he started the car and pulled out onto the road.

You chuckled, shaking your head. "I switched it up—went for cherry this time."

Seungcheol grinned at your response, clearly enjoying the banter. "Cherry, huh? Well, I hope I’m the only one getting to taste this new flavor."

You couldn’t help but laugh as you leaned back in your seat. "You are. And you're the only one who’s ever going to."

His grin widened, looking like the lovesick fool he was. "Then kiss me a lot today, so I get used to it," he added, eyes briefly flickering your way before returning to the road.

There was a new rhythm between you, something that felt right, natural—like it had been waiting to happen all along. You both knew that the line between friendship and love had been crossed in the most beautiful way possible. There was no going back, and neither of you wanted to.

This was where you belonged—together.

[corollaservant]

Sweet Delight // Gojo x f!reader (18+)

Synopsis: You are too nice to be serving rude customers for minimum wage. Rest assured that Satoru will take care of it.

Warnings: yandere, obsessive behavior, noncon/very dubious consent, somno, stalking, knives, deception, mind games, murder mentions, violence (not to reader).. that's all.

A/N: Yan!Gojo is Joe Goldberg to me, idk. Beta read by my guy bsf who said the ending sucked (inspired by quote used in this book)

It started on a Friday afternoon.

He was a regular, came to the store every day to get his coffee. No sugar. Iced. The order was unlike him, he seemed sweet, or at least friendly and inviting, he had the type of eyes your friends gushed over when talking about their favorite movie stars, too blue, too inquiring.

At first he smiled and handed you a bill, told you to keep the change and asked you if he could sit outside for a bit. Of course, why wouldn’t he? The store offered it and he knew it, he was just being polite. He would read from a book, whose cover you couldn’t see, seemed too absorbed and you often wondered how he could concentrate with the café’s obnoxiously loud music (owner’s order to attract customers). He’d more than often catch bystanders attention, be it his white hair, his tall physique or his peculiar blindfold, which he wore sometimes instead of sunglasses, the man was attracting people like a magnet. This one time a couple of girls sat down next to him and talked purposefully loud. He lifted his chair and brought it closer to the register, closer to you. Yet, he still didn’t speak.

The first time he spoke to you besides a thanks and can I sit outside for a bit was when a customer harassed you verbally. You got the order wrong and while you offered a second free drink, he started calling you worthless. Your eyes watered and voice broke as he stepped in

“Please do not offend the barista, it was a simple mistake.” He spoke calmly while being twice the size of the customer.

“This is none of your business, sir..” The customer scoffed as he tried standing upright to make himself taller.

“I said.” Satoru sighed “Please get the fuck out the store or it will be..sir.” While there wasn't any physical threat, the tone was convincing enough to have the customer backtrack, hiss and leave the store empty handed.

“I'm sorry for that.” You told him as he looked at you.

“Don't be, this wasn't your fault.”

“I'm Satoru by the way, remember me?”

Of course you did, he was the most loyal customer.

—

It happened on a Friday afternoon.

Your shift started at 1 PM and ended at 9 PM sharp. Satoru had a meticulous routine: 1-3 was for observing. He wouldn't call it stalking, no, that word was degenerate and he wasn't like that. He was just observing you, your hands, as they moved, expressions as you skimmed milk and some of it spilled on the counter, your interactions with customers. He couldn't risk another incident like before. 3-6 was when he usually made an appearance. Black coffee. No sugar, iced and the table just across the bar; close but not too close. He was disappointed today, you hadn't looked at him once—well, in your defense the café was crowded, yet you still looked gorgeous, even with your sleep deprived eyes and disheveled hair, so soft and pure. He loved that. What would it take for him to get your attention? He found himself balancing between proclaiming his feelings and showing you them but decided on the latter. He would—today.

6-9 he had to wait in his car this time, it was raining but he couldn't leave you out of his sight, what if something happened to you? Your stupid manager had you close the store at 9 PM all alone in the dark, what a cheapskate cunt, not hiring a second person on the shift. Should he kill him? No, that’d be too soon. He would make an appearance before nine anyway.

8:40 was when he got out of the car, sloppily wearing a balaclava he’d gotten from Suguru (his seventh grade ninja Halloween costume) and his usual black work uniform. A knife was in his hands as he noticed you from across the road washing some cups. Perfect, you weren't looking but also careless of you, exactly as expected. He barged in the store and tried his hardest to make his voice drop an octave deeper, shit, would you recognize him?

“Give me your money or I'll stab you.” He was laughing internally but had to put on a fake growl, your expression was priceless.

“P—please don't kill me!” was the first thing you said (brokenly mewled) as your poor hands started shaking.

“I said now.” He said as he stabbed the blade in the air. Damn, that was too easy, you were too gullible.

“P–please I will, I–I am all alone.. one moment–'' Poor you, you had already started crying, tears were falling down your face but you didn't seem to notice. Should he stop this now? Probably.

“How incompetent are you? Are you this slow with customers too?” He decided to tease you a little longer, thriving off of your reactions.

Your eyes shot up for a brief second, was it the customer with Satoru a few days ago? He had said something along these lines, but this couldn't be. He was way shorter and had stopped coming ever since Satoru put him in his place. You were thankful for that.

Your hands opened the register as the paper bills you held threatened to soak, you still had one glove on... you looked a bit silly.

“Hey, hey..” Satoru’s voice quickly returned as the mask was removed “It's just me, see?” He whispered, trying to soothe the tone as your eyes widened.

“S–Satoru, what!?” Your voice trembled as the money fell from your hands and you took a step back.

“I wanted to pull a prank on you, I'm sorry if I scared you.” He smiled apologetically but you still couldn't utter a word.

“W-why would you do that? That's sick!” You cried out as he came behind the bar and tried to pull you in an embrace, knife now tucked in his jacket. To get close to you, to teach you a lesson, to make you need me would be his answer. You punched him on the chest, muffled cries fell from your lips. Well... you couldn't land a blow, that was for sure, but you looked cute with your clenched fists taking out your anger on him.

“F–fuck you!” His firm hands stopped your weak, aimless punches and you sobbed on his chest. You smelled divine, even at the end of your shift.

Was this love?

“Hey.. come on now, I said I'm sorry, okay?” He said as he pulled away.

“Came to say I'll stay with you till 9, it's not safe out there.” He promised as you wordlessly returned to the sink. He'd make you love him.

Around 9:10 you closed the store. His prank had slowed you down, exactly as expected, he figured it wasn't often you lost control and he was proud it affected you. It made you susceptible to control. You silently sat with Satoru outside while he insisted on driving you home.

“I don't need a ride. I'm fine.” It wasn't funny to tamper with your feelings like that, he didn't seem like the type and he'd taken you by surprise; actions like these didn't align with the image he painted for himself. He was always so kind, so protective, so—

“Give me the fucking store keys!” was heard before you turned your attention to the voice ahead of you. A man shouted, not too loud to alert anyone but enough to make a point. The street was empty and he was holding what seemed like a paper bag as you turned to Satoru.

This surely had to be another one of his pranks? You were about to laugh when you looked at him. He seemed taken aback, frozen in his spot and his eyes squinted as your heartbeat accelerated.

“What is it with this neighborhood and robberies?” Satoru talks after a while, his tone is confident as he looks at you and the guy growls. Why is he so calm?What is going on?—

“Shut the fuck up and give me the keys or I'll fucking blow your heads off!” The man says moving his hand to your direction, was this guy bluffing? Did he even have anything under the bag? Was your life about to end? It wasn't like people didn't talk about the criminals in the neighborhood—you’d never work there if it wasn't for necessity.

“And if we don't?” Satoru stops you from reaching for the keys as he fights hard to wipe off the grin on his face. Well, that was unexpected, but he isn't scared, he never is, as you interrupt.

“Satoru! P–please! Let me give him the keys!” You cry out, the day straight out of a nightmare the longer it drags on and you honestly can't put up another fight. You'd rather have whoever this was steal an insignificant amount of money from the register than end your life. Sure, there wasn't much to live for, but it was always different when under real threat.

“You’d give him the keys, really?” He scoffs annoyed. He couldn’t believe what a victim you were, couldn't you see he was right there for you? Despite his abilities you still failed to see him. Silly you.

“What c-can we do? He..he– and we–” Was this really the time? Why is he even negotiating this?

“Bitch, stop talking.” The guy spits, tired of your back and forth, as Satoru finally addresses him.

“That’s not very nice.” He is calm.

So calm that you almost don't see his fist obliterating the guy. One punch and he's knocked down, Satoru climbs on top.He pulls his fists down interchangeably but it's fast and you can't count, must be about seven that leave the guy with no time to react, hands to his sides as he yelps. Satoru reaches for his pocket and is about to grab the knife, when he feels two warm hands touch him and he turns around.

“P–please! Let's just go home!” You sob, eyes wide and the pain in your voice breaks his heart. Home, you said? He gets up and kicks the man’s limbs like a soccer ball—blood oozes down his mouth onto the curb and he chokes on some of it. Satoru's knuckles are stained but he gives you his hand as the pulp ahead withers.

Home.

-

He gave you clothes, a sleep set he had in his closet, you’d never know it was specifically tailored and cut out to your size, how would you know? It’s not like he’d tell you he stole (he called it borrow) articles you discarded at work. Your jacket when too hot, a change of pants as he brought them to the store's bathroom and returned them just as discreetly at 5:30 PM. They smelled like you, but he couldn’t categorize the odor, it was too hard. As for the color.. that he didn't care about. Anything would work really. His mind couldn't stop racing when he heard the shower head start, you'd never agree to his hospitality but that was his home, his rules. You also had a very rough day and it didn't take a lot to convince you.

He offered you his bed, he’d sleep on the couch and despite you objecting, he got you to comply. He could only imagine how much today drained you— physically and mentally. He let you sleep, he wasn't some monster, plus he had work to do. You’d wake up around 9, he calculated, so he had time.

When he finally sat down the couch, he couldn't sleep. Knowing you were there, so close and so vulnerable broke him. He didn't wait for his hair to dry — spot cleaning blood on the sink stole away his energy as he slipped on the bed, you were facing the wall and he placed his arms around you. You made no noise but you didn't seem to be sleeping heavily either, you’d slightly toss and turn. Poor you, was it a nightmare? He smelled your shampoo, it wasn't yours really but a variation of the ones you had at home as his fingers went through strands of your hair. He came closer, wanting to feel your body's heat and moved to your chest. His fingers sought your heart as he felt your pulse. A cock pressed against you—he’d been hard for some time and it wouldn’t go away as his palms searched for your nipples. One pinch and they were already hard, shit, he thought as he moved his dick on you. What if he went lower? Would you be a good girl for him? He moved to your belly as he put one leg softly over you, angling his cock directly at your cunt's entrance from behind while he rubbed against the folds, palms finding you from the front. He loved this embrace, all his to play with. He traced the slit and rubbed some more. You felt so soft and tempting. He’d bet no one could protect you like him and that gave him motivation. Yeah, that was right, he deserved a little thank you for his hard work. He fondles your cunt while his stiff cock annoys him, he’ll deal with it later. He buries a finger inside you, your cunt is wet, he thinks and you're not even conscious. Satoru pumps it slowly, it lubricates you in the process as it coats him halfway—he groans far from your ear and pushes another. You inhale sharply.

He pops them in and out until he fears he's becoming too fast so he removes his palm and uses your slick for his pleasure now. Boxers and sweatpants are removed as he wraps around the shaft, his precum gets smeared on his cockhead and he brings it down his base, it creates a wet mess and he gets off on it. He doesn't need much visually, your back softly breathing is enough to pump faster but— you felt so warm, he reasons, should he? You’d be his soon enough so might as well. He quickly turns to your side and lowers the set you're wearing (you'd think he intentionally sized up so it'd be easier to pull them down) as he pushes your panties to the side. You were a naughty girl, wearing a thong to work. Too dangerous, the world had many perverts. He puts his stiff cock on your entrance as he tries to shove just the head first; he hisses at the contact and you move, it's too late to back down now and he grows desperate. Within a second he tilts his hips into your needy cunt—he doesn't flatter himself, he's big so it's no surprise you groan and he assumes open your eyes. You feel tight and warm and he doesn’t care about your shock—he’s close.

“What.. agh—what are you doing?!” You're cut off in between moans as he ruts into you, you choke on a cry and he picks up his pace. His cock is stuffing you to the brim, it hurts but he can't be considerate. You feel like you can't breathe, dizzy from a nap and a repeated thump down your core. Yet, a primal instinct of pleasure washes away a conscious you telling yourself it's wrong and fuck— you moan out his name. Why do you moan?

“Shit, couldn't help myself, sorry baby.” He breathes out as he bucks his hips up and you feel too full.

“Satoru! S–stop...” But your pleas fall on deaf ears as he continues, hands caressing your chest and his breath on your neck while your hips are brought to clash onto his and nasty sounds come from the contact.

“Fuck, so pretty, baby, hm?” He moans and he’s already close, cock throbs as you prettily squeeze him in. He doesn’t think he’s ever felt like this before, it’s like you’re made perfectly to accommodate him and look at you!—clenching your cunt like some slut.

“N–ugh– Satoru please—” You cry out, scared but with a heat coiling low that makes you unable to protest louder. You think of his kind eyes, heartwarming grin (“Got these bad boys for you”, as he gave you your favorite cookies) but soon they're gone away—

—replaced by his cock rutting in your damp walls. You're unwillingly sucking him in, you can't think straight, he's... good? No. He's disgusting for this. Water blurs your eyesight—it's too much.

A hand is on your clit as he bites your soft neck at the same time. God, how he longed for this. Having you in his arms. He adored you.

“Want to come on my cock, like the helpless slut you are, baby?” He whispers but it's soft—like he's teasing you for missing the bus and you cry.

“I- agh-n-no..please—” You muffle and beg and his hand circling your clit slaps on the nub repeatedly as you jerk; “I can't—I–” He doesn't pay attention, his cock is ripping you apart and you have to let go—riding out an unwarranted orgasm. He loves your mess, no, he loves you and since you're conscious (not that it'd matter), he lifts your leg up as he angles himself so deep, you yell; overstimulated and still scared.

“Satoru, e–enough!” He's bottoming out in between sticky walls and you ache, hoping for an end.

“Don't be selfish baby—fuck!” He groans as large palms squeeze around your neck and then he's cumming — fast and as much as possible, you think. It feels warm and disgusting, his breathy moans are on your ear as you force your eyes shut. What doesn't make it inside, seeps back out but it’s not a lot, since you’re fully stuffed and he takes his sweet time to pull out. You just feel that good. He plants a kiss on your back as he returns with towels and puts you back to sleep. You cry—he estimates 15 minutes before you give up and let sleep take care of you.

One step at a time.

-

It's your 3 month anniversary. He doesn't tell you that of course, its embarrassing because it's 3 months since he found you, 2 days since he introduced himself. You still work at the café but you don't have to worry, soon you’ll never have to work again, he has big plans. He is proud of himself for finding you, it wasn't often someone intrigued him so much. He liked how genuine you were, naive and a bit dumb of course but that was exactly what made you so pure. He’d bet even at your lowest, you'd never cuss anyone out. Like for example that cunt of a customer the other day but it was fine, he’d do it for you, actually—

A message from Suguru pops up.

“Comin tonight?”

“No, have plans.” He gets bored easily and this time isn't an exception.

“Again? New record?” He can always read Suguru's irony. Funny of him to think he'd stop there.

“I told you I’d take care of it.” Satoru hastily types.

That guy really shouldn't have called you a bitch, it wasn't even in the script. Look where that got him. In Satoru's trunk ready to meet Mr. Worthless. He shuts his phone, he thinks about throwing it away, there's no need for it anyways. Especially when you're here.

He thinks about some quote his dad used to tell him, how did it go? Some are born to sweet delight—

14 minutes till your shift ends. What was it?

—some are born to endless night? It all makes sense now, it rhymes, that's why he still remembers it.

Or maybe you just give the first part a meaning.

[not-neverland06]

How About a Nuke?

Part I / Part II / Part III / Part IV / Part V / Part VI

Cooper Howard x fem!reader, the ghoul x fem!reader A/N: I always appreciate your thoughts and comments on these chapters. I don’t reply to every comment, mainly because I’m cackling like an evil witch over your suffering Summary: Time split in two. Both sides of the same coin and neither of you can get your shit together.

“It’s been a pleasure working with you,” you held your hand out and shook Tom’s, though your experience with him was anything but wonderful. If you didn’t need the exposure you’d never do another movie for him again. Cooper came up behind you and wrapped an arm around your waist. 

“I’m sorry, I’m just going to steal her for a minute.”

Tom waved his hand and went to track down another drink. You sank into Cooper’s arms, deflating with relief. “Thank you,” you whispered. 

He chuckled and the sound had shivers going down your spine. “No problem at all, sweetheart.” He swept you out of the room and into one of the hallways of whoever’s house you were at. You’d stopped paying attention after about the fifth party you’d been dragged to. Working with Cooper had been a dream come true, but you hadn’t realized just how much socializing you’d have to do. 

He let go of you and you immediately missed the feeling of his arm around you. He provided you with a sense of protection you’d been severely lacking since you started acting. He was a shield against the greed of Hollywood. 

You let yourself lean against the wall and he watched you with a keen eye, smiling slightly at how tired you looked. “Doing alright?”

You nodded before looking up and giving him a small smile. “Just need a little break, that’s all.”

He rested against the wall opposite to you, tugging out a cigarette and offering you one. You shook your head and tried rolling out your shoulders to get rid of some of the lingering tension. He had a knowing look on his face when he spoke. 

“It was like that for me too when I first started out. No one really prepares you for how much ass you have to kiss in this industry.”

You let out a short laugh and rolled your eyes, “My lips are chapped at this point. I’ve never had to stroke so many men’s egos in one night.” 

“I hope you don’t feel like you have to do the same with me.”

You glanced up at Cooper and shook your head, “No, you’re not like that.”

Fuck him, you thought. You didn’t have to do what he said. You got up, prepared to duck your way through the fighting again, when you heard the unmistakable high pitched ringing of a bullet flying by and then you were launching forward. 

“Fuck!” Your hand flew to your arm, trying to stop the blood from oozing out of the graze on your arm. He hadn’t left a hole but a good chunk of your bicep was splattered on the ground.  

“Now, what did I tell you sweetheart?” You turned around to stare shocked at Cooper. He pointed to the ground with his gun. “Go ahead and sit your ass back down.” The warmth of the blood seeped out from between your fingers and your other hand clenched in rage. 

“Why don’t you just go fuck yourself, Cooper?” He might not have had eyebrows anymore but you could still make out the way his muscles shifted in anger. Despite it all, you could still read him like a book. 

You weren’t going to let him think he could just continue to treat you however the hell he wanted. “What did you just say to me?” His voice was low, a dangerous tone that days before you might not have messed with. But you didn’t care. He’d shot you twice at this point, you couldn’t bring yourself to give a shit about catering to his feelings right now. 

Your hand reached towards the gun tucked in your pants. His eyes tracked the movement but he made no move to stop you. Slowly, you wrapped your fingers around the handle and you pointed the barrel right at him. He chuckled but there was no humor in the sound. “You’re playing a dangerous game, sweetheart.”

“If you’re gonna shoot me, go ahead and do it. But our partnership ends here.” You hoped he couldn’t see the way your hand trembled or how the gun shook. You weren’t sure, when the moment came, if you could actually kill him. Despite it all, you still saw the man you used to love in that face. 

And despite what he’d told you about that man, you couldn’t let yourself believe him. You couldn’t afford to lose the last good memory you had. You’re caught off guard when he clicks the hammer again and tucks the gun back in his holster. 

Your eyes are wide with surprise but he just raises his hands in surrender. “Go ahead and leave, I’m never one to linger where I’m unwanted.” Well, that’s a fucking lie. Still, you decide to take him at his word and slowly you tuck the gun away again. 

“Goodbye, Cooper.”

He smirks, “Goodbye, darling.”

You should have known better. You’ve barely turned around before a rope is looped around your waist and dragging you to the ground and back towards him. 

“Thanks for having me over, Barb. Are you sure there’s nothing I can do to help?” She shook her head and placed your cup of coffee on the table. 

“What kind of hostess would I be if I asked that of you?” She gave you a kind smile and left to dart back into the kitchen. You fiddled with the table mat in front of you, feeling incredibly uncomfortable. Cooper came back in from the yard and waved you forward. 

“Come on, she’ll be a while longer, it’s nicer out here.” You left your cup on the table and followed him outside. He led you to the pool, motioning for you to take a seat on one of the chairs. You appreciated how hospitable he and his wife were but you were feeling incredibly out of place in his home. 

Cooper laughed and gave you a funny look. “You don’t look very comfortable over there.”

You shrugged and gave him a sheepish smile. “Am I that obvious?”

He shook his head, “Not to anyone else, maybe.”

“But you know me a bit better than anyone else,” you finished the thought for him. He was right. He knew you better than anyone in Hollywood did. And you enjoyed it and loved how close you had gotten over the course of filming the movie. But you also hated it a little bit.

Cooper Howard had always been an on-screen crush for you and now face-to-face with him, the infatuation has gotten even worse. It made you feel awful every time Barb invited you over to their house. You were a guest in her home and halfway to being in love with her husband.

But who could blame you? He was kind and sophisticated, and he wasn’t one of those Hollywood assholes who looked down on anybody who was deemed as below him. 

And maybe you were mistaking his generosity for something else, but you swear he had a certain look in his eyes every time he stared at you. 

You almost hoped that he didn’t. You wanted this to be different from the other men you worked with. They always claimed they were in love with you. It didn’t take long for them to realize that it was only lust and not love. 

You wanted him to be different. 

Maybe you’re a fool for thinking that there was still Prince Charming’s around. But you would hold onto that hope for as long as you could.

“I fucking hate you. You know that?”

“Why don’t you shut your mouth, huh, sweetheart?” You hissed in pain as Cooper squeezed the rag around your arm even tighter. He grinned at the noise and tied the makeshift bandage off. 

“You should have just left me there.” He stood up and yanked your hands towards him. He used some of the rope to tie you up, leading you around on a leash like you were a damn dog. 

“Couldn’t do that.”

“Yeah, why the hell not?” He finally looked at you, an angry set to his eyes. But he didn’t respond, he just yanked on the rope and dragged you forward. You complied, only because of the way your shoulder pulsed with pain.

You wished he had left you in Filly instead of dragging you along behind him. He had already dealt with Ma June and gotten whatever the hell it is that he puffs on. You had no idea why he even needed you anymore. 

You weren’t of any use to him and it’s not like there’s some big bounty on your head. Why keep you around? Why not give you both what you want and just let you go?

Maybe it was cruelty. Maybe the only thing he got out of it, was knowing that he was torturing you. That seemed like enough for a man like him. 

You stared at the back of his head and felt hate burning in your gut. He was right. Cooper was gone, you couldn’t even see him anymore. You didn’t want to see him anymore. 

“We’ll get along just fine if you keep that attitude of yours in check.” If you could still pull out your gun, you’d take your chance. You’d shoot him dead if you could. Instead all you could do was longingly stare at it from where it was tucked in your bag. 

He returned from where he’d been keeping watch, confident no one was going to bother them tonight. She sat with her back to him, the rope tied around the post of the old warehouse they were camped out in. She’d refused to talk to him since they’d made camp for the night and it was slowly driving him insane. 

He’d made a decision when he went back for her. She belonged to him now, she wasn’t leaving anytime soon. He didn’t understand why she had to make all of this so hard.

He knelt down in front of her and she averted her eyes to a corner of the room behind him. He reached for the bandage on her arm and she jerked back, she looked at him at least, even if it was to glare. He’d take progress where he could get it. 

“You want to let it fester and rot then be my guest.” She stared at him a moment longer before sighing and offering him her arm. He unwrapped the bandage and threw it to the ground. It was sopping wet with her blood and she winced at the noise it made when it landed, some blood sprayed off and hit her face. He’d meant to just graze her, done a bit more damage than expected. 

There was a large divot where muscle should be, he could nearly see bone poking through on the deepest bit. It was a wonder she hadn’t been complaining the whole time they were walking. He’s not sure how she’s bearing the pain so well. 

He needs to cauterize it before she loses more blood. He takes a glance at her face, the way her jaw is set, the cold look in her eyes everytime he so much as breathes. There’s no way this will go over very well, but there’s no point in investing any time in her if she just dies of rot tomorrow. 

He starts a fire in the area with the least visibility, he’s trying not to tempt any stragglers near them. It’s not like he can rely on her to watch over him in the night, he’s sure if he handed her a knife she’d slit his throat right now. 

He pulls his machete out and lets the dull edge heat up before bringing it back over to her. Her eyes widen but she still doesn’t say anything. And when he presses the edge into her wound and her skin sizzles and roasts she still doesn’t utter a word. 

But she bites down on something in her mouth so hard blood leaks out of the corner of her lips. She’s being real tempting right now, all bloodied and cooked, smelling like a nice meal. Maybe he should chop her up into little pieces, she’ll keep him fed for a while, that’s for sure. 

She starts panting, breathing heavy through her nose and he knows he’s kept this on here longer than necessary. Still, he can’t help himself. He presses the blade a little deeper, lets it hit some uninjured skin just to see if she says anything. She only clenches her eyes shut and turns away from him. 

Disappointed by the lack of response he backs off. “You’re welcome,” he grouses. 

“Fuck. Off.” She spits the words out at him, droplets of blood flying off her lips as she does. 

The way her eyes flare with anger shouldn’t be as attractive as it is. But she has always been particularly pretty when she’s pissed off at him. He licks the blood off his lips and grins. “So she can talk.”

Her eyes well up with tears and he sits back, enjoying the sight of her breaking down. She’s caused enough trouble for him the past few days, she’s just getting a taste of her own medicine. 

Cooper swoops in, taking her hand and leading her around the dance floor. She grins up at him, eyes shining under the lights of the ballroom, once again he’s struck by just how gorgeous she is. “I should warn you,” she leans in like she’s sharing a horrible secret and whispers, “I’m a terrible dancer.”

He takes her in, the pretty dress she’s wearing and how well it suits her and shakes his head. “Just let me lead.”

Her laugh makes his heart race and all he wants to do is run away with her. Get her out of here and just have her all for his own, if only for a few hours. “Don’t say I didn’t warn you, mister.” The music picks up and he takes her through the steps he had to practice a dozen different times for a multitude of occasions, one including his wedding. 

“Do you know how pretty you look tonight?”

She gives him a coy smile and shrugs. “I’ve been told by a few men, but I think I’d actually believe it if you said it.”

He leans down and kisses her. He shouldn’t, he really shouldn’t, but he can’t help himself. She’s as soft as he’d imagined, shy and confused, but she doesn’t stop him. He feels her lean in and he slowly parts from her. “You look beautiful.” She pulls away from him, eyes wide and lips parted from shock. He sees the shine on her lips, the slight way they’ve swelled up and he wants to lean in again but he’s interrupted. 

“Cut!” Sam walks over to them, a big grin on his face and claps Cooper on the shoulder. “I love the improv, Coop, we’re gonna do this again. Keep the kiss.” Cooper nods and waits for him to walk off before he turns back to her. 

He offers her an apologetic smile. “I hope that didn’t bother you, darling. It felt right for the scene.” Not a complete lie, it did work better than whatever the writers had chosen for the next few minutes of dialogue. But truly, he was just fulfilling his own selfish desires. 

She seems to blink herself out of some sort of daze. She shakes her head and steps away from him, he lets his hands fall down to his sides, already missing the feeling of her. “No, not at all. Good call, Coop.” His name on her lips sounds like music to his ears, especially that breathy way she says it when she’s nervous. 

He sighs and rubs a hand down his face. What the fuck is he doing? He shouldn’t have kissed her. He definitely shouldn’t have pushed to get her this role, either, knowing she was going to be his love interest. He knows she’s been trying to step back from these types of things. But he also knows that she’d take any role he offered her. 

He shouldn’t be taking advantage of that, but he can’t help himself. He finds that he wants to be near her, always. He wants to listen to her ramble and have her there to read scripts with, he just wants her around him constantly. It used to be purely platonic. The respectful relationship between a mentor and mentee. But she’d figured out how to navigate this world on her own. 

Soon, he worried she wouldn’t need him anymore. Or want him around.  He takes every opportunity he can to have her on set and it’s only recently that he’s noticed the physical attraction. He takes his hand off his face and glances to the side. 

Barb is there, but she hadn’t been watching. She’s busy talking to one of the PA’s. He takes in a deep breath and gets back on his mark. If he messes up a few times, just so he can kiss her again, who could blame him?

“Cat got your tongue?”

You have a dozen different remarks, but you’re too drained to go through this routine again. You can tell he’s getting angrier the longer you ignore him. Good! He’s shot you twice, you didn’t exactly owe him the satisfaction of your conversation. 

Your arm is throbbing, a dull pain that you can feel deep in your bones. You keep shifting, trying to ease some of the pressure off of it, but with the bindings around your wrist it’s nearly impossible. You want to cry, scream, fight. You want to do anything, but he’s bound you and you feel like a beaten down dog. 

Your tails’ been cropped and you’re just going through endless rounds of fighting until you’re useless enough to be put down. You don’t see a way out of this. And even if there was, even if you did escape, you’d still have the rest of the Wastelands to get through. 

He stands up and moves next to you. He throws himself down with a thud and digs around in your bag. “No rations left, huh?” You close your eyes and let your head thunk back against the pole you’ve been leashed to. He grabs his own bag and pulls out his foul smelling jerky. 

He dangles it under your nose, slapping your cheeks with it a few times until you open up your eyes. He grins, yellowed teeth making you nauseous, “There are those pretty eyes. Come on, open up sweetheart, ass jerky ain’t gonna eat itself.”

Your nose scrunches up in disgust and you turn your head away. “Hey!” He snaps and you jump. “I’m being generous here, now, open your damn mouth.”

“Why’d you shoot me?” You spit it out, rushed and near incoherent. It’s a desperate attempt to distract him so you don’t have to eat what is confirmed human meat. That could have been you today, had you not woken up before that creepy old couple got to you. 

He takes a moment, contemplating his answer. “Thought you were the raider.”

“Why?”

He rolled his eyes and the jerky, thankfully, dropped back into his lap. “I heard someone in pain. You don’t have a great track record, sweetheart, I figured someone had gotten you again.”

Indignant anger bubbled up in your gut and you moved as far away from him as you possibly could. Though, it was only a few inches. “You didn’t think I could defend myself. It wasn’t even a consideration?” 

You knew how to shoot a gun, and you knew how to fight back. But shouldn’t there be a bit of grace considering a few days ago the entire world wasn’t fucking insane? You think you’ve handled yourself exceptionally well considering everything that’s been thrown at you. 

There’s no hesitation in his answer, “No.”

“Well,” you spit the words out like you want to wound him with them, “you were wrong.”

To your surprise he smiles. It seems genuine enough, appreciative even, but you can’t trust him anymore. You never should have trusted him to begin with apparently. “That I was.” You wished you could smack the smug look off his face. He was acting like he had anything to do with your fighting or surviving that fight. Despite what happened with the raiders, you were capable of protecting yourself.

That woman was already bleeding out and on the ground before he had interrupted. “What the fuck do you want from me, Cooper?” His hand twitched towards his gun and he glared at you. You rolled your eyes and sighed, “Oh grow the fuck up, I said your name, shoot me or get over it. I’m not gonna play this game with you anymore. I’m not gonna let you walk all over me and I’m not going to continue to cater to your temper.”

He wasn’t angry, though, he was grinning. Making a noise that bordered on a laugh. “Someone found their fight again, it seems.”

Your jaw clenched and you kicked at him. He grunted at the impact and you felt a little bit of satisfaction flare up, “Answer the question.”

He shook his head and shrugged. “I don’t know. I don’t particularly like you, but I can’t seem to let you go either.”

“Well,” you scoffed, “you sure know how to make a girl swoon, don’t you.” Your wrists itched within the confines of their bindings and you pictured strangling him with the very rope he had you tied up with. 

“You wanted the truth.”

“Did you enjoy yourself?” 

Cooper wrapped his arms around Barb’s waist, he leaned in to kiss her but she dodged away from him. He let out a heavy sigh, already dreading this conversation, and backed up. “What are you talking about?”

She whirled around on him and glared, “Do not pretend you don’t know what I’m talking about.” He shook his head and walked over to the bar cart, pouring himself a glass of something that would hopefully calm him enough for another fight. They’d been fighting a lot lately. 

He knew what this one was going to be about. Her, but they’d been having issues long before this attraction started up. She just wanted something to use against him, to make him the bad guy. She just couldn’t ever handle hearing the truth about herself. 

But he wasn’t going to make it easy for her. He was sick of rolling over and just letting her have what she wanted for the sake of peace. “Give me something to work with here, Barb.”

She scoffed and shook her head muttering, “Unbelievable,” under her breath. “Shoving your tongue down her throat, that’s what I’m talking about!”

Cooper winced, “Lower your voice, Janey is-”

“Do not,” she held up a hand to silence him. “Do not bring our daughter into this. Answer the damn question.”

He let out a humorless laugh and held up his hands. “I don't know what you want. You’ve never had a problem with this before. It’s a part of my fucking job, Barb, what the hell do you want?”

She shook her head and pinched the bridge of her nose. “Just admit it, Coop, she’s different. We both know it, this isn’t some scripted kiss. You wanted it!” Of course he did. At least she actually liked him, appreciated him, made him feel something other than shame and frustration. She didn’t manipulate him at every opportunity like Barb did. 

“Lower your goddamn voice!” He snapped, heat rushing to his cheeks in anger. “I am married to you, you are my wife, not her. I love you, okay, Barb. I don’t know where this is coming from, or why you’re choosing now to bring this up. But I’ve had a long day and I don’t want us to go to bed angry.”

She shook her head again and paced the length of the living room. “Cooper, I can’t-”

The phone ringing interrupted her. She looked at it like she knew who was calling and waved her hand to dismiss him. “We will continue this,” he walked towards the phone and took it off the hook. “What?”

He regretted how short he sounded when he heard her on the other line. She sounded a little confused and like she was sorry for bugging him. “Coop? Sorry, is this a bad time?” He glanced over his shoulder at Barb but she wasn’t looking at him anymore. 

He let out a deep sigh and tried to reign in his temper, “No, sweetheart, what’s up?” 

“Oh, well a few of us figured we’d go out and get some drinks. I wanted to see if you wanted to join us, or if you could give me a ride?”

He let the phone droop to his cheek and glanced at Barb again. She was already making her way towards the bedroom. “Make your choice, Cooper,” she called over her shoulder. 

She piped up on the other end, “Coop?”

He glanced down at the phone again before he shook his head and brought it back up to his ear. “Yeah, I’ll be right over, honey. Let me just grab my jacket.”

“You remember that first movie we did together?” He leaned back against the wall, arm propped up on his knee and gazing out at the Wasteland. “Passed a poster for it in this old movie theater a week ago.” He glanced over at her and nudged her shoulder. “Must have been a sign, huh?”

Her voice was a hoarse croak that he nearly didn’t understand. “Did you ever love me?” The question came out of nowhere, catching him slightly off guard.

Anger flared through him. He turned to glare at her but she wouldn’t look at him. She had the audacity to ask something that fucking stupid and then she couldn’t even look at him?

“Hey,” she sighed and turned to face him. “‘Course I did. Why the hell would you say that?”

She snorted and shook her head. “Seriously?” He nodded and she sighed. “You told me you didn’t. All I was, was a hole to fill.”

He ran a hand down his face and shrugged. “I don’t know what you want me to tell you sweetheart.”

“How about the truth,” she gave him a sharp look and he laughed. She was real cute when she was trying to be threatening. 

“Alright. You want some advice? Everyone in the Wastelands lies. Can’t trust a thing anyone says.”

She nodded but he should know better than to think she would give up so easy. “So, I can’t believe you now then?” She must have thought she was real clever. He was getting a little sick of this back and forth. She needed to learn to just listen to him, she’d get a lot farther a lot faster that way. 

“Consider this the one exception.” 

“And here I thought you didn’t like to drink, sweetheart.” She let out a drunken giggle and slumped further against Cooper. He glanced at her and laughed. Her eyes were barely open and she kept pointing at something but refused to tell him what it was she was talking about. “Keys?”

She lifted her purse but it dropped to the ground before he could grab it from her. Cooper sighed and propped her against her door, he leaned down to grab the bag and dug around until he found the keys. He noticed the little key chain he got her dangling from them and smiled. 

A mini revolver, to commemorate their first movie together. It was cute that she had kept it, he hadn’t really expected her too. Then again, he’s kept every ridiculous gag gift she’s gotten him. “Alright, let’s get you to bed.” She threw an uncoordinated arm over his shoulder and let her feet drag while he tried to corral her into her apartment. 

“Work with me, honey, come on.” She finally lifted her feet enough to stumble into her bedroom. He closed the door and heard a loud thud. “Shit,” he ran into her room but she’d only tossed her shoes across the room. 

“I don’t drink,” she slurred, eyes red and cheeks puffy. 

He chuckled and nodded his head. He hoped to get her lucid enough just long enough to get her tucked into bed. He was tired and going to get drinks had been a mistake. He wasn’t in the mood to try and entertain a group of people with tales of his glamorous Hollywood experience. Honestly, he’d gone just to talk to her, but she’d been in more of a mood to party than he had expected. 

“Don’t trust anyone.” He grabbed the sleeves of her jacket, helping her out of it and trying not to laugh at how much she struggled with them. “Just you,” she hummed, giving him a smile even though her eyes were closed and she was a second away from passing out.

“That’s real sweet, why don’t you get in bed?” She nodded and threw herself down against the pillows. Cooper sighed and got up to get her trash can out of the bathroom, dropping it by the side of her bed in case she needed it. 

He glanced down at her, taking in the serene expression she held when she slept. It was so different to the usual way she kept herself guarded, she seemed so vulnerable in moments like these. He brushed the hair off her face and turned the light off. It made him feel good to know that she felt safe with him. 

He could never be with her the way that he wanted to, but at the very least he could protect her from the people who would just take what he wanted. 

“I don’t think I can do this on my own,” she whispered. She shifted again, tugging at the bindings once more. Annoyed at her constant fidgeting he reached over and loosened them slightly. His fingers lingered on the reddened marks on her wrist, he pressed lightly on them and she shivered. 

He let her go and sat back against the post. “I know.”

“I stupidly thought I would find something in Filly. I think I was trying to prove something to myself, but I can’t do this. I need help, but I’m not gonna let you treat me like some pet you didn’t want.” 

He sighed and she turned to look at him. When he really took her in, actually paid attention to her, he could see how tired she was. That sort of bone deep tired that you only get after a lot of bad days. He’s sure that’s what this was, it’s how it was for him when he first started out on his own. 

He didn’t have anyone to help him or guide him, he figured it out on his own. It made him smarter, stronger, turned him into somebody that no one was going to fuck with. She was a lot different than him, though. 

“Alright.”

“You’re going to help me,” she held out her hands and he understood the gesture for what it was. A test, to see if he was true to his word, if you could actually believe him. 

He grinned and yanked her closer, reveling in the way she winced at the ropes burning the open wounds. “I’ve had a taste of you now, sweetheart, I won’t be letting you go anytime soon.” She doesn’t flinch when he pulls out his knife, not even when he presses it against the tender skin of her wrist.

There’s trust in her eyes, a hesitant trust, but it was there. He slices through the knot of rope and wraps the rest of it up to put back in his bag. She lets out a sigh of relief and rubs at the irritated patches of skin. “I really did love you, you know?”

He’s sick of this. He’s sick of how sad she sounds, how tired. It’s barely been a week and she’s already starting to give up. He's already made the decision to keep her around, he’s not one to go back on his word. But she’s making it real hard to not just knock her out and shut her up. “Yeah, yeah,” he muttered, “so did I.”

She scoffed, “No. You didn’t, not like I did.”

His hand clenches at his side in frustration. What’s it gonna take to drill this into her head? He grabs her by the chin and yanks her forward, the leather of his glove smushing her lips together. “I loved you. You don’t get to doubt that and you don’t get to doubt me.”

He’s darting forward before she can shove him back. Her hands hang limply between them and she gasps in surprise when he presses their lips together. It’s not altogether pleasant, her lips cracked and bloodied and his have long since turned to leather. 

But that familiar passion he once held for her sparks up and he shoves forward. She whimpers and lets herself fall back, hands grabbing at his jacket and tugging him closer. He used to treat her gently, savor their time together like they’d never have another chance. It always felt like that, they were one moment away from losing each other. He supposes he’d been right, their time was short. 

Who they were now were two different people to who they’d been. He bites down on her lip hard enough to draw blood and pulls back. She’s staring up at him, shocked and flustered. He can’t tell if she wants to kiss him again or slap him. He doesn’t give her a chance to choose, he licks her blood off his lips and drops her to the ground.

She groans as her head slams against the floor, sand and dust billowing out from under her. “You should get some rest. We’ve got a long walk tomorrow.” He leaves her there in the dirt, lets her linger in the feeling of his rejection. He rubs at his lips and savors the taste of her blood on his tongue. 

end. — I do not own the characters or the game/show Fallout, but this writing is my own all rights reserved © not-neverland06 2024. do not copy, repost, translate & recommend elsewhere.

[arieslost]

one night only | cl16

charles leclerc x fem!reader

summary: when the miami grand prix comes around, charles books a hotel room.

word count: 3,263

warnings: 18+ content MDNI!! mentions of cheating (don’t do it), cursing, charles is a player but you’re down bad (who isn’t), this is my first time writing smut so enjoy!

special thank you to @venusacrossthestars for being my beta reader, ily bestie <3

masterlist — join my tag list here!

© arieslost 2024. DO NOT REPOST WITHOUT PERMISSION.

unknown number: Our hotel. 10:30. Your keycard is at the front desk.

It was like clockwork. Every weekend of the Miami Grand Prix, you always ended up with a keycard in your hand. When Monday came, you woke up, showered, and took the tiny bottle of shampoo that you used with you when you left. It went in a shoebox under your bed to remind yourself not only of your mistakes, but of each and every night you spent forgetting them in the arms of the biggest mistake himself— Charles Leclerc.

It’s happened twice now. You hardly remembered the first, barring a joke you made about whether or not you needed to sign a NDA. Charles had silenced you by backing you up against the locked door and pressing heated kisses to your jaw, lips moving down your neck as you pulled him closer. He was excited that weekend— he’d taken P2, and it was thanks to the celebration he partook in at the club that he met you.

You were a bartender for the VIP section at a club near the track. It was easy work, if you didn’t mind all the flirting and catcalling. You were never one to be affected by it; you knew they were all either drunk beyond recognition, or would be by the end of the night. You loved your job. You also loved your boyfriend, whose shift you’d picked up that night.

But then Charles Leclerc, Scuderia Ferrari’s golden boy, sat down at the bar. Your bar.

After that weekend, you didn’t have a boyfriend. How could you, when every time he kissed you, you saw a certain Monegasque behind your closed eyelids? When every time he touched you, you imagined different hands caressing your skin?

You’ve always prided yourself in being a strong, independent woman, but when it came to the Formula One driver, all your inhibitions went out the window, and your pride with them. So you tried not to get attached to him. You were perfectly happy to be the annual hookup, to let yourself go for one night out of the 365 that came in a year. You didn’t need to get to know him, you didn’t need to learn more about the sport; you didn’t even need to kiss him on the mouth.

You didn’t.

So why were the words “our hotel” making your heart race every time you read over the text from his unsaved number?

You thought about responding, but in the end, you settled for liking the message, just like you did the last time he texted you. It had been his idea to keep this up in the first place, anyway.

2022.

“Where’re you going?” He was half awake, sleep fading quickly from his eyes when he took in the sight of you with your hand on the doorknob.

“I was leaving… unless you changed your mind about that NDA?” You quipped.

“That’s as funny as it was last night,” he groaned, stretching out and pushing the blankets off his body.

Ahh, last night. He’d put his boxers back on before falling asleep, but they didn’t really leave much to the imagination. Especially because it was all so fresh in your mind. The way he looked– hair mussed after all the times your hands had run through it, golden skin against the crisp, white hotel sheets, the red scratch marks on his back… Yeah, it was a miracle that you didn’t launch yourself back into the bed right then and there. You still dreamt about it sometimes, the way he looked so ethereal in the early morning sunlight streaming through the curtains.

“Are you going to continue to mock my sense of humor, or can I be on my way?” Your throat was so dry.

“I’ll be back in the area next year.” He didn’t offer any explanation— it was Charles Leclerc. He didn’t have to.

You fished out the piece of paper you’d scrawled your number on earlier before promptly stuffing it into your pocket in a moment of retrospection. Hell bent on leaving the room before you acted on the impulse to get on top of him again, you tossed it onto the nightstand.

“Make sure I can tell it’s you.” It was the last thing you said to him before you finally made it out the door.

Now, you read over his text again as you climbed the steps to the VIP section of the club. Our hotel. You were going to need some liquid courage if you were going to fuck him tonight.

A solid perk of your job was free access to the VIP section when you weren’t working, and in times like these you were most definitely going to take advantage of it. A couple shots were all you needed to take the edge off, and you downed them in quick succession before checking the time- 10:10. You were cutting it close, but the closer it got to 10:30, the antsier you became. You decided to linger for five more minutes, and called for another round.

“You okay?” One of your coworkers asked from behind the bar as he filled the shot glasses in front of you. “You look a little nervous.”

You laughed, waving him off. “I’m fine. Now leave me alone so I can enjoy my drinks, will you?”

He flipped you off good naturedly before turning to his other customers.

With another shot down, you took out your phone, the text still front and center on the display. You swiped it away, instead opening up the search engine. Against your better judgment, you typed the sentence you’d been restraining yourself from searching up all day long: miami gp 2024 results.

The first thing you saw was his name. CHARLES LECLERC WINS 2024 MIAMI GRAND PRIX.

You fought the urge to smile, quickly grabbing your fourth and final shot and tipping it back. Ironically, the burn of the whiskey sobered you up a little as you gazed at the picture showcasing his beaming face and dimpled cheeks, both hands lifting the first place trophy high in the air. You made the mistake of bringing up the race (or lack thereof) the last time you saw him, and since then you’d made an effort to try and avoid anything to do with F1.

2023.

“Disqualified? I mean, it’s shit!” You exclaimed heatedly as you wiped down the bar. Your phone was burning a hole in your pocket, making your stomach squirm with excitement every time you remembered the text.

Same hotel. 10:30. There’s a keycard at the front desk. No NDA. You had giggled at that last bit, and if you’d completely given up on your morals then you might have fallen in love with him for remembering the joke that he didn’t even crack a smile at last year. You’d practiced some French, and you paid attention to news about the Miami Grand Prix, but you hadn’t given up on your morals.​​ You weren’t going to fall for and pursue the guy you only saw once a year.

The French was simply because you wanted to brush up on your rusty high school skills. As for the news… well, you were in the area. Everyone was paying attention to the news.

“I didn’t realize you cared so much.” Your coworker replied, an eyebrow cocked at your reaction to what the reporter was saying on the TV.

“I don’t care, I just think it’s stupid.” You backpedaled, trying to sound more casual than you did a second ago, especially when Charles appeared on the screen looking nothing short of dead inside and your heart began to beat a little faster. “Everyone should be able to race.”

“Yeah, well, that’s the FIA for you.” One of your patrons grumbled, thumbing through his wallet and producing two five dollar bills. “Thanks, guys.”

“You keep that,” you shoved both bills into your coworker’s hand after the customer was out of earshot. “I have to go.”

You changed at the speed of light in the VIP bathroom before going to the hotel. You showed the clerk your ID, collected the keycard, entered the room, and promptly made a fool of yourself.

“I heard about the disqualification on the news…” You trailed off when you were met with a glare, not necessarily towards you but rather the topic of conversation.

“I don’t want to talk about that right now.” Was all he said before he practically manhandled you onto the bed, pulling his shirt over his head as you bounced back on the mattress. “When I’m with you, I don’t want to talk about work. I don’t want to talk at all.”

“Okay,” you agreed quietly, any other words dying in your throat as he hurriedly pushed your dress up past your stomach and immediately started kissing every inch of newly exposed skin.

When he reached the apex of your thighs, he looked up at you. “The only thing I want to hear you say for the rest of the night is my name, understand?”

He’d grabbed your hands and put them in his hair that night, right as he had you seeing stars courtesy of his head between your legs. You dreamt about that, too. A lot. You always woke up sweating, in desperate need of a certain type of relief that only he could give you.

You were thinking about last year again as you walked through the revolving doors into the hotel lobby, the shots of whiskey making your veins thrum with excitement.

The way he had whined when you pulled his hair.

The way he smirked at you as he crawled back up your body, so full of himself and so damn sexy.

You found yourself wondering what he’d be like tonight after winning the race as you gave your name to the clerk at the front desk, hoping she wouldn’t comment on how flushed you looked. She asked to see your ID, then handed the keycard over. Room 24. You were there in moments. He always booked a room on the third floor. As you walked down the hallway, you were vaguely aware of the fact that, against your will, this had become something of a routine.

You and Charles Leclerc. One night only.

For three years in a row.

You hadn’t even bothered to dress up this time— your clothes wouldn’t be staying on very long, anyway.

You were glad to see that you’d gotten there first when you opened the door, pocketing the keycard as the door swung shut behind you. There was no point in looking around the room; you knew the layout like the back of your hand. Eventually, you drew your attention to the view out of the large window, moving the curtain out of your way to admire the view of the Miami night. You tried imagining what everyone else was doing at that exact moment to distract yourself, but your mind kept going back to Charles.

Charles, Charles, Charles. Just thinking about him made your heart knock against your chest, and you were in the middle of mentally berating yourself for it when you heard the door opening and Charles himself walked in, the trophy you saw him holding in the picture still in his hand.

“Hey,” you greeted him, nerves adding a slight shake to your voice.

He gave you a soft smile in return, setting the trophy down on the nightstand and adjusting it slightly.

You remembered how he reacted the last time you mentioned his job, but this had to be different. Besides, it felt wrong not to acknowledge it when the trophy was literally sitting right there.

“Congrats— or, actually, félicitations on the win,” you said, dropping the curtain back and stepping closer to get a better look at the trophy. “Much better result than last year.”

“You’re not kidding.” He scoffed, taking his hat off and tossing it on the other side of the nightstand. “You know French?”

“A little.”

He had changed out of his race suit, but when you stood next to him you could still smell the champagne.

“Think you’ll be in the running for the championship?” You asked casually, even though you knew that he was in a great position already and was most definitely in the running for the championship.

You tried to avoid Formula One. You just weren’t all that successful.

He gave you a look, like he was trying to get in your head and figure out when you’d started paying attention. “I hope so,” he finally answered. “This could be the year.”

“I hope so too.” A pause. “Would it be overstepping if I said I was proud of you?”

This brought a real smile to his face, his dimples seeming even more prominent than they did in the photo. “Not at all. It’s actually really nice… hearing that from you.”

The usual initial awkwardness had finally faded away, and you knew what was going to happen next. You wished you could sit down with him and listen to him retell every moment of his triumphant race, but you couldn’t.

That’s what girlfriends do. Not hookups. You were perfectly fine with being a hookup, and you would continue to repeat it to yourself until you believed it again.

To mask your disappointment, you reached out and gently took his hand. His palm was warm under your touch as you pulled him close. “How about we celebrate that first place, hmm?”

The two of you moved like a well oiled machine, even after not seeing each other in a year.

He always tried to kiss you. You always turned your head at the last second. If he was disappointed, he never showed it, instead focusing on getting you underneath him. Not that he had to try very hard.

Charles had a way of making you forget. With every brush of his fingers against your bare skin, every press of his lips at your collarbone, you slipped away from reality more and more, until the only things that mattered were you, him, and the hotel room. Nothing existed outside of the four walls you were within, and how could you care right now? You couldn’t, not when he had already gotten you out of your shirt and bra and his hand was gently taking hold of your breast. He was taking his time, studying your every move in response to his own. His thumb brushed across your nipple just enough for your breath to catch in your throat, a soft gasp escaping your parted lips.

“Yeah, baby, I know,” he murmured, ego clearly inflated by the fact that the slightest touch from him still had you reacting this way, and you wished more than anything that you could kiss that stupid smirk off his face.

“I thought we were supposed to be celebrating,” you managed to say as his thumb continued its back and forth motion.

“This is me celebrating.” He paused, giving you a pointed look. “Is this not good enough for you?”

You bit your tongue, chest rising and falling as you squirmed underneath him due to the sudden lack of stimulation. “I-I just—”

“What? Utilise tes mots, chérie. Je sais que tu peux.” Use your words, dear. I know you can.

You took a breath, then looked directly into his stunning green eyes as you reached up, grabbed his wrist, and pushed his hand down. “Je te veux ici, Charles.” I want you here.

He cursed lowly, eyes fluttering shut for a moment when he heard you speaking French back to him. “You said you only knew a little.”

“Just the important stuff,” you teased, eyes traveling down from his bare chest to his fingers as he tugged your underwear off.

The rest of his clothes followed, and he didn’t waste any time rolling on a condom and pushing himself into you, a punched breath leaving his lips once he was fully seated inside you. “Thought about this all day,” he said, large hands running over your naked body. “Couldn’t wait to see you.”

“You can’t say that kind of shit to me, Charles.” You sighed, your eyes closed as you adjusted to him.

“Why not?”

“Because it messes with my head,” you admitted.

“I mean it, though.”

“Did you mean to say ‘our hotel’ too?” You opened your eyes now, the burning question finally about to be answered.

“It is, don’t you think?” He asked, and then he started to move; slowly, tantalizingly.

“Shit. I can’t think when I’m with you.”

You couldn’t talk after that, not when he was making you feel so good. You could only wrap your legs around his hips, pulling him closer and marking his neck wherever your lips landed. You shouldn’t have, and he should have stopped you, but neither of you cared. Every lewd noise coming from his mouth made you feel hotter and hotter, and just when you thought you were going to burst into a ball of flames, he started talking.

“I want you to look at yourself,” he instructed breathlessly, maneuvering you so he was now laying on his side behind you… and you were staring right into your own eyes in the shiny surface of his first place trophy. “See how beautiful you look when I fuck you.”

You gasped, eyes rolling back, bringing your arm back so your hand could find a home in his hair again. You watched through the trophy as he dipped his head into the crook of your neck, breath hot against your skin and arm tightening around you as he picked up his pace.

“Charles, I—”

“Mhmm,” he moaned in your ear, his hand slipping back between your legs when he felt you tightening around him. “Go on, baby, let go for me.”

You didn’t need to learn more about Formula One, but you had. You didn’t need to know more about Charles Leclerc, but you wanted to. You didn’t need to kiss him on the mouth. But your mind was hazy, and you wanted to know how his lips felt on yours. You wanted it so bad that, when the both of you had come back down to earth, you didn’t fight it when he leaned in and captured your lips with his. He kissed you deeply, rolling you onto your back against the pillows. You felt his hand against your cheek, and as you opened your mouth for him you tangled your fingers with his.

You weren’t stupid. You knew that things wouldn’t change.

And they don’t.

You still wake up before him in the morning. You still shower. You still put your clothes back on. You still trade parting words with each other, and you don’t hear from him for another year. You still take the shampoo bottle and put it in your shoebox when you get home, ignoring the ache between your legs the whole while.

Nothing changes.

Except now, you’ve spent a year knowing what it’s like to kiss him. You know how easily your lips mold together, how you would happily spend your one night with him doing nothing but kissing him.

And when the text lights up your phone, a thrill shoots through you.

CL16: Our hotel. 10:00. You know where to find your keycard. 😉

Maybe, somehow, you can find a way to keep your morals and be in love with Charles Leclerc at the same time.

note: well, here it is— after two+ years, i have made my long awaited return to posting fics on tumblr. i’ve done it in style by posting 18+ content for the first time; i hope it wasn’t too cringy to read. i don’t know what came over me, but here we are. thank you so much for reading.

requests are OPEN, and my inbox is always open for comments, criticism, and conversation! feel free to pop in!

likes and reblogs are greatly appreciated <33

also, i’ve been out of high school for almost three years now, so i greatly apologize if the french is bad or incorrect.

beautiful dividers by @saradika !!

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