#Inappropriate use of hand-holding

[nyanya78]

Some hand drawing practice featuring a menace to society and her lovely husband

[lazylittledragon]

can't believe we're all adults being forced into the club penguin level of censorship in 2024

[lxnarphase]

𓇼 FUCK HER, FLIP HER, BEND HER BACKWARDS !

❤︎₊‧⁺...synopsis : the church always says sex for pleasure is a sin, and nanami kento is a man of the lord. but fuck, if his wife isn't worth sinning for. wc: 4.3k

❤₊‧⁺...cw : n. kento x fem!reader, religious themes, traditionalist views on sex and marriage, loss of virginity, missionary to mating press, breeding kink, overstimulation, unprotected sex, nanami loses himself in your pussy, slight cum play, dirty talk

❤₊‧⁺...lunar's note : am i unintentionally coping with religious trauma? possibly but it is fun :33 anyways based of this! forgive me if my writing is a bit rusty, it's been a while but enjoy !!

the two of you have spoken about eventually having children many times, but knowing the steps it took...it kept you both pushing it back, knowing eventually you'd both be ready.

after speaking with doctors, asking for advice from the church, and having you grumble about the neighbors who welcomed a cute baby girl, the two of you figured it was time.

you did your best to act normal all dayl, trying not to seem to nervous or too excited as you went about your chores for the day.

it may just be an act to procreate, but...it's still your first time with nanami. you want it to at least feel special.

there was nothing in the bible that went against that, right?

well, you have plenty of time to overthink since it seems that your dear husband will be at work late. to pass the time, you wait upstairs in your shared bedroom, the TV on as a distraction.

you're so stuck in your own world that you don't even notice him in the doorway before he clears his throat, leaning in the doorway. "oh! hi, honey, welcome home!" you go to stand up, but he holds up a hand, making you stop before you can get up from the bed.

it's silent, aside from the noise from the TV, and you can feel your stomach flip in anticipation.

has...has he always looked that handsome?

he continues to stand by the door, still not making eye contact. "you said it...starts today, correct," nanami questions, focused on undoing the straps of his watch. it shouldn't be attractive, it's such a simple task...yet it has your stomach doing flips as you nod.

"mhm, my, uh...ovulation starts today." it's such a weird thing to say, it just makes everything feel so...clinical. but that's how it's supposed to be, right? those who use sex for pleasure instead of procreation are sinners, or whatever the reverend at the church says.

"mm."

slowly pulling it off, he sets the watch on the dresser before shutting the bedroom door

"good."

dear god in heaven, you think to yourself, struggling to swallow the saliva pooling inside your mouth as he starts to undress. please forgive me for such inappropriate thoughts about my husband.

he removes his suit jacket—black today, it seems—placing it carefully on his desk chair, followed by his cufflinks and tie. his shirt is next, each button popping to reveal his strong, well-maintained physique.

you have to stop yourself from pumping your fist in the air for getting so lucky with such an attractive man as your husband. too busy ogling him like a horny teenager, you miss him undoing his belt before tugging them down and stepping out of his boxers.

once you do realize he's fully undress, you blush hard once he approaches the end of the bed—it took everything out of you not to stare at that...monster hanging between his legs, dear lord—and climbs onto it, making his way to hover over you.

his eyes roam up and down your body, taking in the pretty silky night dress you had on. It’s a soft blue with lacy white trim with little intricate flower designs.

modest, yet sensual.

"this is new," he comments, voice low and sultry. you can't help but wonder if he meant to sound so...so...

you don't find the correct word for it, but this new tone lights a fire in your stomach that has your r thighs squeezing together just a little bit.

"well, i figured it was an important night...you know, finally popping our cherries a-and starting a family?"

it's a weak attempt at humor, your voice clearly giving away your nervousness. you just pray that he ignores it.

a soft hum leaves him, his fingers playing with the intricately designed lace trim. the idea that you want to make this whole ordeal special, that you want to give yourself to him wholly, and that you want to swell with his child...

it pleases him greatly, a small smile touching his lips.

"well, aren't you sweet, my dearest?"

such simple words, yet they relieve so much tension from your shoulders. you can't help but smile back before a little gasp falls from your lips when his hands start to lift the dress up. his hands, they're so big, so hot on your skin.

It's a struggle to remember that this is for the purpose of producing offspring and nothing else, but you try, you try so hard.

but when you hear the hitch in his breath at the realization you didn't have anything else underneath the dress after he pulls it over your head, it's hard to remember.

the thought just about completely leaves your mind at the way nanami, your usually put-together husband, looks so hungrily down at you, a look you've never seen before in those pretty hazel eyes.

his gaze lingers on your body for a moment, mouth opening before shutting instantly, preventing himself from saying something he'd likely regret.

calm down, kento, he reminds himself, taking a second to clear his mind. this is for the purpose of family, not sinful and carnal desires.

even so, he's drinking in the sight of you, unable to stop his hands from rubbing up and down your sides, the soft skin of you, his wife, warming his palms. all his.

"gorgeous," he mumbles, unaware he even said it.

the moment you feel his leaking cock brush against your leg, a thought occurs to you.

neither one of you has a single idea of how to do this.

sure, you both know enough about putting it inside and moving, but that was about it. is there something else you should do? things you should say, places you should touch to aid in the process?

they never explained the actual process of sex in church, and lord knows your mother and father would've keeled over and died instantly if you were to ask them.

'it comes naturally when god deems it your time' the reverend stated once during a sermon. you fight back a frown, realizing that man probably had even less of an idea of how to do it.

however, the feeling of his tip nudging against your slit rips a gasp out of you, bringing you back into the present.

"are you alright? you left me for a bit there," nanami asks, his brow furrowed in worry. if you weren't ready, he was willing to back off. he may want to fulfill this important aspect of marriage, but...not if you don't want it.

"n-no, i'm okay! just...wondering how all of this is going to work out," you softly reassure, giving a weak giggle.

he can't blame you, he isn't very sure either. but as the man of the house and as your husband, he didn't plan on letting you worry. he would do all the work, you just needed to lay there looking so pretty, so soft, so...he realizes he's doing it again, letting his mind wander to places it shouldn't.

"just...j-just relax, we will figure it out as we go along."

with your silent nod, nanami starts to push his hips forward, hissing silently when he realizes the wetness that greets him.

you were this aroused just from...talking?

the thought of scolding you for letting your mind wander crossed his own, but...it would be hypocritical when his cockhead is dribbling precum all over your soft mound.

you choke out a noise of pain when his cock finally notches onto you and starts to push inside. sure, your wetness helped get the tip and the few inches after it inside, but just that is already too much for you, and you're expected to take all of it?!

you do your best not to move, not really sure what you should be doing. you'd be a good wife and bear with the pain if you had to, your nails digging into the pillow under your head as you braced yourself for the rest of his cock.

but this is absolutely unbearable, how do other women bear with this and have 6 or more children?!

a flicker of concern flashes through nanami's eyes at the sound you made, and he stops moving forward. he may be a bit mean sometimes, but he wasn't cruel.

if you both are going to go through with this, he is not going to make you suffer and nor is he going to force you to endure a painful experience.

no true man of god would do such a thing.

"breathe, don't hold it in," he instructs, his voice somehow calm and collected. one of his hands laces with yours, hoping to provide some sort of comfort as his lips brush against your forehead. "i've got you, darling, the pain will pass, just...tell me to stop if it gets too bad. don't hold it in."

giving a soft nod, you try to match his breathing, your body relaxing and making it easier for nanami to slip the rest of himself inside, a near silent sigh escaping him. the tightness and initial resistance that greeted him nearly made him moan, his cock twitching violently inside of you.

something about the physical feeling and knowledge that you saved yourself for him like you promised years before you both got married sent a surge of possession and pride, knowing he has such a loving and faithful wife who is so willing to give herself up to him like this...he can only hope you feel the same knowing he saved himself for you and only you.

so, as a 'reward'—and totally not because he fears you'll strangle his cock off with how tight you are—he's so gracious to you, not moving to let you get used to the stretch and feel of him inside, the room silent except for your matching breathing.

a few moments go by, and you should feel embarrassed when you feel slick drip out of you and down your ass. the realization that your dearest husband, one of the most faithful men of the church, is letting his cock soak inside of your hot cunt makes you whine a little, slick walls fluttering around him.

he's so fucked.

"a-ah...i'm going to move now," he warns, taking your sudden noise as a good sign. nanami shifts his legs just a bit before giving an experimental thrust, his brow furrowing as he slowly finds a rhythm.

the feeling of your hot and gummy walls is absolutely intoxicating, divine, nothing he's ever felt before.

this is what it felt like?

this is what he waited for?

fuck, it felt...it felt so good.

too good.

for you, the pain completely melts away, and you silently thank god and the angels above for giving you a merciful husband who is so kind as to wait for you to loosen up around him.

little do you know, he would rather kill himself than start moving when you're still adjusting to the pain and stretch.

his gentle movements make you all but melt under him, your eyes fluttering at the unbelievable pleasure coursing through your veins.

no wonder your parents preached about saving yourself until marriage, and thank the heavens you listened.

the very thought of feeling this way with anyone but your kento puts a bad taste in your mouth.

meanwhile, nanami chants prayers in his head over and over again as he tries his best to focus on the 'true' purpose for this.

the sticky, wet, and gooey sensation of your plump cunt sucking him, practically weeping each time he pulls out is just unfair.

the poor man, he's fighting so hard to maintain his composure, to not succumb to the base instincts that those soft moans of yours are beginning to stir within him.

"s-shush, darling," he grits out, hips still following his slow, deep pace. "don't...don't make such noises," he all but pleads, voice tinged with a huskiness that betrayed his growing need for you.

“i-i’m sorry! just, it...feels good, y-you feel good, feels s-so good,” you whisper, hands coming up to cover your mouth and stifle those sickeningly sweet noises.

but of course, that isn’t enough because each push and pull of his cock stirs your drooling cunt, filling the room with wet, filthy squelching sounds.

nothing about this is holy, nanami thinks as he grits his teeth, hands fisting in the sheets next to your head.

look at her.

those soft, muffled noises are truly music to his ears, his pace morphing from the slow, deep grind into a faster pace as your soft body gives into the pleasure.

so wet, so damn tight around my cock., like she never wants to let me pull out.

"k-kento, y-you're goin' too deep, i-i can't be quiet, s'too much!"

messy little pussy, 's beggin' for cum, needs it, needs to feel my tip kissin' her cervix as i pump load after load into her womb.

he knows what that little voice is, and no matter how much he wants to claim that it’s the sound of demons pouring their sinful words into his mind, he knows that it's his thoughts, fueled by those dirty little noises that she can't hold back.

how pitiful, how sinful, doesn't she know she's going against all the teachings they've heard preached every weekend in their church?

doesn't she know she's giving into lust?

doesn't she know her pretty sounds are making his dick throb, painting her insides with his hot, gooey precum?

"hush, 'm not going to t-tell you again, you...you need to be quiet," he growls, the command lacking its earlier authority.

nanami also knows lying is a sin, and he's doing a damned lot of it right now as he tries to convince himself that you need to stay silent. after all, this—this is just a process of giving you both a child, just like you wanted, and nothing else.

but he's lying to himself.

he needs you to be quiet or else he'll lose it.

the poor man is barely holding onto his restraint, and these sweet noises pouring from your mouth aren't helping at all.

"y-you make this so difficult sometimes, my dear..." his voice is rough with need and desire, a stark contrast to his usual composed demeanor. "but, by god, you're...you're. absolutely. exquisite."

he punctuates his words with a particularly hard thrust, grinding his hips into you in a way that has the coarse hair on his crotch to rub against your clit. the pleasure it gives you is electric, your legs coming up to squeeze his hips as you try to grind with him.

his words, his simple praise only makes you hiccup his name, crying out louder as your watery eyes roll back as your needy cunt squeezed down on his fat cock.

you're such a sweet thing, trying oh-so hard to mute your sounds. each snap of his hips is all but driving you insane.

“i-i can’t, ken, y-you don’t understand, i-it feels so good, i-i’m so full! you’re pressing against all the good spots, kentoo, i-i love you s' much, b-but i can't!”

be a good fucking husband and do what you were made to, nanami kento.

his teeth dig into his bottom lip, trying to hard to ignore that temptation purring in the back of his mind.

the voice is so much louder now, echoing throughout his mind and muting any prayers or pleads to be mindful of the sanctity of this whole process.

fuck her. give her what she needs, what she deserves.

but it's too fucking hard, he can't his hips are speeding up, his strong hands moving to grip your thighs, unaware of how they start to anchor behind your knees.

breed your pretty little wife and give her a baby like she deserves.

with a deep groan, nanami finally loses all control, fingers digging into your supple thighs to push them to your chest and practically folding you in half.

this new angle has him openly moaning like a dirty whore, allowing him to plunge even deeper into your tight, gummy walls, the head of his cock kissing your cervix with each and every deep thrust.

"k-ken, kenny, k-ken," you sob, tears catching onto your lashes as your entire being is assaulted by the endless pleasure your husband is giving you. he doesn't even look like your kento anymore, his pupils blown so wide that you can barely see the ring of greens and brown of his iris.

"f-fuck. 's all your fault, you know that," he hisses, eyes narrowing as he weakly glares down at you. but you can see the hearts in his eyes as he gives in to the pleasure.

his dark eyes bore down into yours, the wet plap plap plap plap of his hips slamming into yours almost overpowering his voice. "if y-you just stayed quiet like i asked, w-we wouldn't be here."

a little spurt of wet gushes out of you, making his fall forward into the juncture of your neck with a groan at the dirty noise it makes,

"god, i-i can feel it, y'know? can feel this sticky pussy—such a dirty little pussy—makin' such a mess. saved it jus' for me, didn't you, baby? mmhm—fuckin' hell, 's tight—thank you god f' giving me such an angel of a wife." nanami is huffing nonsense against your neck, pounding into you with a force that has the bed creaking loudly.

if you weren't being fucked stupid, you would be worried he was about to break the bed.

"you can keep that pretty mouth of yours shut, b-but you jus' had to have the noisiest little cunt."

he's so mean, but it only serves to make you gush even more, the way juices pour out of you and only make the already filthy noises even nastier.

"she's talkin' to me, baby, y'hear it? i'm...i-i'm gonna breed you," he manages to whine into your ear, pulling away to press his sweaty forehead against yours.

his tongue, so pink and pretty—you want it in your mouth, want to taste it want to feel it against yours—runs over his top lip as he watches drool drip down the corner of your mouth while you nod brainlessly.

nanami's never felt so dirty, so unhinged, but it feels so right, feels so fucking good. he never wants to leave your pussy, never wants to pull out, this is where he belongs, buried deep inside you as his cock pumps load after load right into your tummy, giving you what you need, what you deserve.

"yeah? you want that? i'll give it to you, baby, promise, 'm gonna be a good husband a-and knock you up, gonna make you a mommy."

that has you keening, tears pouring down your cheeks at the pleasure it shoots up your spine. you know you're close, but it's different.

it feels different, feels too much, there's pressure you've never felt before from the few times you'd cave in and play with your puffy, swollen clit in the shower when you waited for nanami to get home from work to kiss you to sleep.

no, you feel like you are about to fucking explode. "ken, i-i can't, 'm gonna—s-something's coming," you try to warn, your hands fisting in his hair as you tug and tug and tug.

the pull of his hair makes him moan like a slut, it sounds so fucking good. his eyes are rolling back before he rushes to comfort you, pressing soft little open-mouthed kisses against your lips.

you don't need to fight it, you just need to give it to him, give him what he needs.

"shh, shh, don' cry, y' look t'pretty, honey. l-let it happen, cum for me, i've got you, angel, cum for me s-so i can fill you up," he coos, his hips growing erratic as he feels your silky walls starting to fluttering around him, feeling you teeter on the edge of release.

he shifts, just barely, just enough to better position himself to fuck deeper into you. but that slight movement has his cock smushing against something soft and spongy that makes you sob, growing softer and more pliant under him, and you know you are done for as all you can do is wail his name.

"please, pretty girl, cum for me, show me how good 'm making you feel, soak my cock, c'mon, you can do it."

with a loud mewl that nearly has nanami soaking your walls in cum, you dig your nails into his biceps as you finally, finally cum. and you're right, it is different, your cute pussy squirting and creaming all over his dick.

the poor man is choking back a whine, eyes wide in shock as your cunt just gushes slick everywhere, clenching around him like a vice as you cum.

your juices are soaking his cock and balls, splattering against his lower abdomen obscenely. the thought of making you do that again crosses his mind for a split moment before the need to fill you up for being so good overpowers any other thought.

not giving you a break, he continues his unforgiving fucking, ignoring your cries and pleads for him to slow down.

"nonono, shh, shh, shush, you can take it," he coos against your lips, no longer caring if this was sinning or not. all he could think about was the constant squeezing and spasming of your poor overstimulated slit that was milking him toward his orgasm.

you try to squirm away, but the way he has you folded in half has you unable to do anything but accept his stupidly deep thrusts that make you swear you can taste his cock in the back of your throat.

"t-tha's it." he's panting, slurring his words, his fingers digging into the fat of your thighs. it’s so wet, so messy now, but he can't find it in himself to care.

no, all he can think about as he looks down at you is how you'll have that angelic glow as you grow round with his baby, and everyone will know you're his, that he knocked you up, he pumped you full of his cum, that you're his you're his you're all fucking his—

"f-fuck, honey, i-i can't..." his hips stutter as he does his best to maintain his rhythm, but his own release is barreling down on him. his heavy balls are drawing up tight as they slap against your ass, your juices still pouring out and soaking all of him.

"'m gonna fill you up, 'm gonna pump this—this sinful little cunt f-full of m'cum, angel, gonna knock you up, gonna have you drippin' with me, g-gonna give you a fuckin' baby, shit—"

with a deep, guttural groan, nanami hisses your name as he buries himself as deep as possible, his hot tip kissing your cervix as thick, hot ropes of his potent cum pour right into your womb, hips grinding into you and giving little thrusts as you milk his cock weakly despite your overstimulation.

it's—it's so much, he's still cumming, how was all of this inside of him? you can practically feel it sloshing around inside of you, and you whimper when you feel it gush out around his now softening cock, dripping down your ass onto the bed.

a moment or two passes, and he sits up, pushing his sweaty hair out of his face and looking down at you.

oh.

you sweet thing, you're an absolute mess. you have tear streaks down your cheeks, your lips swollen from him unknowingly biting them between the little kisses he was giving you, a pretty sheen of sweat on you, and...

his eyes trail lower to where his dick is still nestled inside of you, and it takes everything in him to not accidentally thrust his hips a little bit.

it's a creamy, sticky mess, a mixture of his and your cum seeping out your poor, abused pussy.

"o-oh. sorry, my love. i'm...not quiet sure what happened there. i apologize for such...foul language," he mumurs, his hand stroking your hip. "'s okay," you softly coo back to him, your eyes fluttering shut as you try to catch your breath. "i-i liked it..."

but you quickly learn you've married both a man of god and a curious, insatiable bastard who can't help but drag his cum all over your pussy, quickly finding your clit. and the reaction you give him is one he decides he likes, your hips canting up as your soft, oversensitive walls squeeze around his cock again.

"k-kento, that's nasty!"

all you get in response is a grumbling noise in his chest as it takes you weakly slapping your hands against his chest to get his eyes to snap away from your gooey, creamy pussy.

clearing his throat, he looks down at you, that heated look slowly creeping back onto his face. "perhaps we...we should try once more. just to ensure it takes," he states, doing his best to show some semblance of dominance.

but it's impossible when his hair is sticking to his sweaty forehead, his pupils blown as he gazes down at your panting form like he's about to devour you whole.

"after all, a...a big family is what god wants from man and woman, right? so we...shouldn't delay and keep trying." his hand trails up your side before finding its way to your breast, squeezing the soft flesh.

his thumb experimentally rolled your nipple, and the way your body reacted, a soft gasp of his name...how is he supposed to explain the feeling he's getting in the confessional booth?

"y-yeah," he gulps, leaning his head down. you can feel his hot breath against your tit, and you swear you feel drool drip onto your breast. "w-we'll keep trying. jus' to make sure w-we do what the scripture asks."

may god forgive him for being such a fucking liar and a damned bad one at that.

all rights reserved © lxnarphase | do not repost, copy, translate, or alter my work

[nanamiskentos]

❛ ㅤ𖥔 ─── EXTRA-L (五条悟, 𝓖𝐎𝐉𝐎 𝐒𝐀𝐓𝐎𝐑𝐔)

𝓐𝖡𝖲𝖳𝖱𝖠𝖢𝖳 ─ when gojo tries to talk you through it, but it makes him cum first instead 🤷

( 1.4k )ㅤ｡⠀呪術廻戦 ㅤ& MDNI. ✶ afab!reader, established relationship, práise kínk, crèampíe, máting prèss, inappropriate use of jujutsu

"heh, are you close?" gojo teeters, his large hand cupped underneath the soft, flushed arch of your neck. he's reached that stage of the night where he's getting far too cocky, his powerful, broad thighs not even breaking an ounce sweat, not even as skin slaps against skin.

bright, searing blue cuts through the darkness of the bedroom, and you have no doubt he's using a copious amount of reversed cursed energy to keep him going. gojo's doing a pretty decent job of holding out for the big finish.

the big finish in you that is. for the very thought of filling you up with thick, spurting loads makes gojo shake, quiver even, a whine slipping from his glossy, pink-stung mouth.

you can feel the ache in your stretched limbs, for the sensation is pulsing and throbbing from the mean mating press that gojo's got you in. his washboard, sculpted abdomen is pressed right up against you where you're certain that the print of his muscles will leave a mark. and the curled thatch of silvery-white hairs is tacking right up against your mound, drenched in the sticky slick that you've released, four times no less.

"dunno' if i can do it a-another time, 'toru," you're whining, gasping as gojo shifts the bulk of his body weight deeper against your bare torso. he's making sure to hit that sweet, sweet spot at this filthy angle, thick tip rummaging and swabbing through your gummy walls. but surely, gojo must be close now, for you feel the thin, weeping cries of precum slip out of you and onto the damp sheets. pooled onto the inner, plush flesh of your thighs.

"sweetheart, c'mon," gojo nudges your thighs further apart, slotting his broad form so perfectly in that gap that he adores the most, "i know you can, 'm gonna' make it real good this time." leaving adoring, laving kisses over your collarbone, complete with small, pink petals that bloom after his lips pop! away.

"jus' so big, i can feel you allll in me," you moan, lips parting as small ah! ah! ah! begins punctuating the cool night air. it's sort of the magic formula, you see. praising gojo, and lavishing him with many a sincere compliment.

you learned long ago that gojo loves to hear how much you love him, especially during lovemaking. particularly when he's doing his level best to plough himself right through you, determined to have every thick-veined inch of his cock kiss you.

you hear a little, pussydrunk giggle from the man above you. ridiculously long lashes fluttering against creamy, flushed skin as gojo sighs, content as he's determined to delve further into your heat, to have you as close to him as possible, "y-yeah? that big?"

slap! slap! slap!

once, you may have burned, or been embarrassed at the soaked, sloppy sounds of your cunt leaking like a faucet around gojo's thick shaft. to be mildly conscious of how your translucent shine had been coating every inch of his cock ever since he bottomed out in you with a groaned pop!

but frankly, you had been with him for so long — by now, the man had manoeuvred you into every position possible, and you knew nothing made him pick up the pace or turned him on more than the sticky encouragement of his second favourite girl in the entire world.

"hahh, 'toru, why?" your walls suddenly clench, desparate hips bucking up to kiss his. whining at the disappointment of the quick empty sensation that takes over when gojo's gripping the base of his cock, gently sliding his shaft out that glistens with all that tender love and care.

gojo just chuckles, pressing a delicate and feather-light kiss upon your waiting lips, quelling your soft gripes. "be patient now, pretty. just gonna, yeah –" he's jostling your thighs now, quietly stretching out the stiff limbs so he can press another kiss to the inner corner of your ankle, setting both legs over his wide shoulders, "jus' gonna change the angle. gonna' get you through this next one, that alright?"

frankly, the angle is a welcome change for your smarting hamstrings so you nod, hoping that he gets a move on and presses right up against, and into you asap.

gojo seems to be just as impatient as you are, but he's holding up beautifully despite not having released himself once tonight. he often gets like this, so determined to have you fall apart for him as many times as possible before he flushes, and groans, and spills into you.

"heh, 'm pretty girl, isn't that right?" gojo's admiring you blatantly, electric-blue eyes roving over your form, six eyes vying to find that sweet spot once more, "now 'm just gonna put it innnnn, jus' like. that."

and the stretch is delicious, and oh! the way that the weeping, hot tip swipes against your clit, sloppily dragging through your folds before he's pushing past the first ring of quivering muscle.

"you can take it right? can take alll of me, can'tcha?" gojo's cooing, slapping his hips (and well, his heavy balls) against the fat of your ass, and he hardly seems bothered by the messy strands of arousal that string back, fragile and yet so loud. this angle is truly mind-numbing, for his cock is rubbing right against every sweet spot possible, and your legs are already begin to quake once more, knowing exactly what's around the corner.

"oouh, yer' doing great, just breathe for me, sweetheart," gojo murmurs, his muscled torso flexin' so deliciously in the pale, filtered light of the moon refracting through the half-open windows, "now 'm just gonna' angle ya' like this."

gojo's got a thick hand on the underside of your thigh, pushing it to the edge of his shoulder so the angle is wide open and he can watch every delicious movement of his cock into your weeping cunt, to admire how your folds throb and tense, with slick drenching down the sheets. "y'look c-close, pretty, i mean — look at how she's ready to give me another show." tapping his chin in faux thought, licking a strand of your glossy arousal off his slender fingers, "wonder if you're gon' squirt this time."

it seems that gojo satoru simply cannot shut up, but you've always known how much he loves to run his mouth.

especially when he's balls-deep in you, circling his hips to make sure that he's hitting every sensitive spot possible to make the both of you see stars, "see, look at that, 'm thinkin' that this —" gojo wetly slaps the pads of his fingers against your aching, sensitive clit, watching the drowned slosh smear over your thighs, "this is gonna make you cu — ohh, fuck, fuck!"

you suppose that it will be lost to the ages as to what exactly gojo satoru was going to say, and many will wonder how he was going to finish that sentence (although, those of us with two brain cells to rub together can hazard a guess).

but he never quite gets those words out, suddenly squeezing his eyes tight shut, so soft lashes imprint on his under-eyes. a red-hot flush suddenly climbing up his alabaster neck, as his hips buck and quiver, stuttering as hot, thick and opaque seed splurges right up in you, enough that you tense your thighs as creamy drops spill right out, "fuck, 'm feeling dizzy — s'so good, hah." gojo's whining and panting, still keeping a bruising grip on your thighs, but he's determined that not even a single drop goes to waste.

when he pulls himself together once more, what a sight, for gojo's jaw is still slack, crystalline tears pooling at the corners of his lashes as he shudders, the most powerful man currently walking the earth has come undone. but he's never one to leave your momentum interrupted, grinning with that fang-ridden, shark-like grin as he pulls your body down the bed, even close to him so your arousal and his cum pool together and stick between the two of you, "how 'bout best of, uhh. . .nine?"

[holeforzenin]

𝜗𝜚˚⋆ GRIMY STEP-DAD TOJI!

Tw - STEPCEST, cheating, age-gap(early 20s n early 40s), anal play, daddy/dad kink, oral, some really inappropriate and gross stuff. Stepcest isn’t blood related. Not proofread.

A/n - “Toji wouldn’t do th-“ I don’t give a shit, goodnight.

GRIMY STEP-DAD TOJI! who secretly rubs your little pussy through your thin cotton panties from underneath the blanket while you're having a movie night with your family in the living room.

GRIMY STEP-DAD TOJI! who tells your clueless mother that he’s taking you on a daddy-and-daughter bonding trip for a few days so the two of you can spend more time together and get to know each other more which only ends up with his hefty cock being stuffed deep into your innocent pussy— filling you up to the brim in some random hotel not too far from your house.

GRIMY STEP-DAD TOJI! who instantly gets rock hard whenever you'd call him “dad” or “daddy”. He just can’t help when a sweet young thing like you is innocently batting your eyelashes up at him and asking him for his assistance. God, you’re so helpless, you can’t do anything without the help from your dad, not even cumming. :(

Which is why he has to sneak into your bedroom dead at night and skillfully poke his stepdaughter’s g-spot with his fat tip till you can finally cum and make a big mess on his cock.

GRIMY STEP-DAD TOJI! who's obsessed with you sitting on his face, your warm dripping pussy nestled in his mouth while his eager tongue skillfully laps at the essence of your arousal from your glistening entrance. His nose presses into your rim purposefully, causing your adorable hole to wink against his nose in playful response to his inhales and breathing. He needs you on his face at least once a day :(

GRIMY STEP-DAD TOJI! who you coincidentally encounter in the bathroom, late at night while he’s pissing so that quickly escalated with his girthy cock now being shoved down your throat and he's thrusting it rhythmically in and out your mouth. Your eyes begin to well up with tears which only fuels him even more to use your mouth to his favor as he deviously grins down at you when he notices how you're helplessly playing with your drenched pussy with your fingers.

GRIMY STEP-DAD TOJI! who gets off from being risky, especially when your mom is dozing off on the couch and he has you forcefully bent over the cold marble kitchen counter with one of his muscular hands pressed firmly against your lower back so you won't escape from his hold. His fat thumb is clogging your ass and his veiny cock is stretching your little pussy apart around his shaft while his angry tip is exploring the depths of your cunt.

He'd be such a mean man and force his thumb deeper and deeper into your asshole just so he can get a cute reaction from you and hear you whine while you desperately claw at his beefy forearm for him to stop :( He only chuckles and laughs at how scared you are as if you don't love it as much as he does.

GRIMY STEP-DAD TOJI! who loves referring to himself as Daddy while he's balls deep into your slippery hole. Your trembling knees are knocking against your soft, bouncing tits and you're desperately gasping for air while your nails are sinking into his strong hand that's encircling your neck. "Shh shh c'mon be a good little step-kid f'daddy and take my cock". He whispers, trailing a thumb up to your glossy lips before inserting it into your mouth for you to suck on.

His cock is crammed into your tight pussy, and the way you keep sucking him in deeper and deeper every hazy second makes him not want to pull out anytime soon. He just can't get enough of your pussy. "That's it, that's baby, yer making daddy feel sooo good".

GRIMY STEP-DAD TOJI! who has developed a habit of sniffing your cunt and ass, he just can't help it :( he just loves your natural scent and can't get enough of you when he's bending down behind your small figure while you're engrossed in cooking dinner for the family and pulls your shorts down to bury his pointy nose in your moist pussy.

A plague of worries clouds your head when you feel his nose prodding into your tight entrance in the open. "T-toji! n-not here, she'll see!", you pleaded as you attempted to push his head away from your rear only for him to clasp both of your hands into his larger ones with just a chuckle rumbling against your cunny. soft whimpers escape your lips when you hear his loud whiffs of your pussy.

GRIMY STEP-DAD TOJI! who loves nothing more than licking his step-daughter’s little pussy at any given chance he gets :(

It's so prohibited and “taboo” and the older man is very much aware of that but he just can't help it when he's quietly slipping into your bedroom late at night to run his salivating tongue over the sapping mound— He’s been practically thinking about it the entire day.

His clothed cock immediately starts twitching uncontrollably every time his grimy thoughts clouded his vivid imagination, all he could do at work was discreetly palm his hardened bulge and give it a hard squeeze for friction and temporary relief.

He barely could wait till everyone was asleep to taste your delicious pussy again.

A deep involuntary groan leaves his lips from the taste of your creamy pussy melting on his tastebuds. The sensation of the sticky slick clinging onto his tongue stirred a desperate throbbing in his cock, yearning for more. God, every fiber of his being ached to plunge his hard cockhead into your warm, virgin pussy and ravish you until you painted his shaft with your cream but he won't... at least not yet.

Luckily for him, you were sleeping on your stomach and the tranquility of your slumber allowed him to cautiously lower your adorable panties down, gently resting it at your lower thighs, and parted your plush cheeks using his thumbs to peek at your delicate pussy. The glossy sheen veiling your folds glistened in the dim light, making his fat cock throb with urgency.

“Fuck, so pretty” he whispered breathlessly, sticking his tongue out to lap at your messy folds, his tongue flickers back and forth, licking up at your wetness and replacing it with his spit and intertwining saliva. Unfortunately for him, you weren’t a heavy sleeper so the sensation of his soft, wet tongue wiggling against your most intimate place was enough to stir you awake.

Your eyelids flutter open weakly, giving way to the heavy fog of slumber that still clung to your countenance. Sleep is evident in your features as your tummy tingles from the continuous sensation of the stimulation. Your vision was clouded with fuzziness but you could still make out the muscular silhouette of your step-father.

He was huge and muscular, he wasn’t built like some ordinary man so there was no mistake that it was him.

“Daddy?”You mumbled innocently, rubbing your eyes in hopes of having a clearer view after.

“W-hat are you doing?”

“Shh shh, go back to sleep doll. Dad’s gonna take care of ya” he lightly chuckled before caressing your ass and placing a few wet kisses on your soft cheeks.

[ciaoteamo]

Milk and Water Pt. II

pairings: doppelgänger!Milkman x fem!Reader

summary: the aftermath of letting him in

pt.I

(art credits: @yunonoaii)

warnings: 18+ content

“…what. the. fuck.” You mutter to yourself, watching the scene before you unfold.

“mmm, how about letting me in now? promise i won’t bite you too hard” His eyes were dangerously seductive.

Your desktop fan and the slight rustling sound of (what you could only assume was) him touching himself filled the eerie silence of your office space.

However, he could still tell that you were hesitant to let him in, especially considering what he just did to D.D.D.

“how about this, sweetheart we-“

“if i open this door.” You cut him off. He shuts up quickly and halts his movements with a blank stare. His eyes watching you intently.

“you come straight to me, or else i swear to fuck. it will not be a good time for you. you copy?” Your hands were firmly grasping the edge of the desk as you stared the man in his color changing eyes.

“i promise” He kisses the window and you give him one last short lived glare before unlocking the door for him.

BZZT!

He slowly turns away from you and walks toward the door and you felt relieved to hear a light knock a few seconds later before he let himself in.

“see? you can trust the milkman” He grins.

He was a mess. Between the torn clothing, the blood, and his unzipped slacks that displayed his black briefs holding back a huge bulge, he honestly looked like something out of a wet dream.

“this is quite a small space… you think i’ll be alright in here?” He closed the door behind himself and strides toward you.

“you don’t have any choice but to be alright” You retort and he chortles.

“i love this mouth of yours… i’ve never crossed paths with a human as bold as you…” He tilts his head, placing a hand under your chin to lift it a bit.

“unless you’re actually scared… and using this boldness as a tactic..?” His irises turn white once again and his grip on your chin tightened slightly.

Though you were enduring a near death experience right now, being that you were this close to a doppelgänger, you were unbelievably horny.

“tactics?” You start. You already knew that you probably wouldn’t be able to get out of his grip just by moving, so you used a more… inappropriate approach.

You took a step closer to him, closing in the 2 foot gap that sat between the two of you and you placed your palm over his hard-on.

His grip immediately loosened a bit and his fingers twitched against your skin. What a reaction that was…

You feel more confident, realizing that he’s just another horny good looking guy. “is there a reason i should be afraid of you?” You ask, hand squeezing around him and a finger rubbing his tip.

He shudders and his hand falls from your chin and rests around your throat. His forehead tapped against yours, and your eyes were fixed on each other. “…you really are something”

“wish i could say the same for you“ You start, breaking the eye contact to look at his lips and sharp canines. “you’re just a slutty and messy excuse of a monster” Your words would probably be venom to anyone else, but this only riled him up more.

You felt his throbbing under your palm and grin to yourself before being greedily pulled into a kiss. For a brief moment, you could taste a metallic bloody taste on his tongue.

You moaned at the warmth of his mouth and felt his hands rested on your hips, rubbing circles into the area.

You release yourself from the kiss with his bottom lip between your teeth and a smile. “desperate, are we?” You tease.

“painfully…” His eyes glistened. “what’ll it take to get those pretty lips to go a little lower?”

“show me what yours can do first and i’ll see about returning the favor” You challenge. His eyes go back and forth between yours before he kisses you again.

This time however, he started to undo your uniform. Groaning so deeply that you felt the rumble in your throat. His skilled hands loosened your belt and your slacks came down and off.

Next he lowered himself and lifted you a bit to get off your socks and shoes, making him get more sloppy and needy within the kiss.

At this point he was squatting and you were standing over him, holding both sides of his face. His hands travelled up and down your leg as he stayed in his position and this time, he’s the one to break the kiss.

You were both breathing heavily, and staring each other down. You almost forgot your resolve and let him fuck you right then and there.

But you had to stay strong, for both of you guys’ sake. You take a deep breath in and til your head.

“well, you gonna show me? or are just sit there and look delirious from a simple kiss?” You teased.

“…may i?” He asks with a slightly raised eyebrow, gesturing toward your leg.

“go ahead”

“hold on to something right”

“why am i h- shit!” You would’ve fell right to the ground if it wasn’t for the shelf behind you that held last months documents. Albeit, they’re scattered over the floor now.

Your legs were snatched from underneath you and each one was hooked over the man’s shoulders. His warm breath against you felt sinister. It sent a slight chill up your spine.

His eyes stared down at your sex and he licked his lips, looking more excited than you did for this. “don’t let go” He says before using gis fingers to spread you sticky lips.

His tongue pressed hard into you and drug from your hole, up to your clit. You bit your lip at the warmth and felt your back arch against your will.

“ha~ this all you got? Thought you said you’d be bet- anghh~!” Your eyes widen and your mouth drops at the new feeling below.

“you were saying?” He mumbles into you. His tongue was longer with a pointy tip, and his lips were wrapped tightly around your clit.

The pleasure was almost overwhelming. You could definitely admit that he made you eat your words and replace them with loud endless moans.

As you felt yourself getting closer you began to grind your hips over his face, chasing after your high.

“don’t stop” You could barely get out the last word before the wave of immense overstimulating pleasure came over you.

You curse and take in a few deep breaths, calming yourself down a bit, and only then did he let your clit go with a ‘pop’, making your legs to twitch.

“that wasn’t fair” You jokingly glare at him, the sweat making your skin shine and chilly from the fan air.

“i told you i was better” He wipes his chin with his thumb and licks it clean without breaking the eye contact.

“you have to be some sort of… sex demon” You shake your head in disbelief.

“maybe i am?” He lets you tug him closer by his tie and give him another sloppy kiss. The change in size of his tongue being just below too much for you as it explored your mouth.

“well let’s see how long you can last then… hm?” You ask, beginning to leave a trail of light kisses on his next before a harsh bite.

You could feel him shudder and decided to have him sit in your office chair. “let me borrow this..” You say, undoing his tie while he sat.

You spin the chair around and bring both of his arms to the back and tie them to the chair. When you spin his back around, his had such a mischievous grin that you went ahead and addressed.

“yes, i know you could probably get out of that in a heartbeat” You start and roll your eyes. He chuckles, amused at your awareness. “but, will you?” It was your turn to put on the sly grin now. The second he managed to break free from his restraint, would be the moment you’d send him off.

“…” He read your face, bit knowing if he should say something sly or not.

“right, thought so” You smile and give him a few taps on the cheek.

You kneel between the man’s legs, finally addressing the large and throbbing penis before you.

“god you’re hard… you weren’t kidding when you said you needed help” You joke, rubbing his wet tip through his boxers with you finger.

He grunted a bit and readjusted himself in his seat. You look up at him before pressing harshly on it with your thumb.

“oh fuck you~” He throws his head back and you giggle.

You reach for the hem of his briefs and tug at them, signaling him to lift his hips. Once he’s exposed, you could really see the girth and length of him.

He was veiny, thick… bright pink tip, and god knows how long it was.

You put your hand around the base, it was warm and nearly pulsating. Your pace was moderate, giving him just enough to work with. You knew it was a nice steady pace when his hips slightly jerked up for more friction.

“needy boy wanting to fuck my hand? this wasn’t even the main event you asked for, love” You coo, strengthening the grip you had on him by a smidge.

“i can’t help that you know how to use those hands of yours so well” He remarks, still facing the ceiling.

You pump your fist higher up and use your own skilled tongue to drag along his vein.

“@$?!~” He moaned and immediately looked down at you with a snarl. An almost threatening one telling you that he wanted more.

And were you planning on giving it to him? Absolutely not.

You stare right back at him and smirk, using the same motion and occasionally sucking the pre cum from its leaky pink source.

“i’m gonna cum” Your eyes welled a bit at the large shaft triggering your gag reflex. But he was close so you would endure the slight pain.

His thrust his hips up a few times and you force your head as far as you could before completely stopping.

“fuck- why’d you stop” His voice was almost a whisper and suddenly thick white ropes shot into the air and landed on his thigh.

“oh i’m sorry, i’ll keep going” You reach for his most sensitive spots, overstimulating him into a nervous laughter as he begged you to stop.

It was fun watching him experience more than he could handle, but all good things come to an end.

He sighs in relief, sweaty, heaving, and dazed.

“can i be freed now?” He asks.

“sure, why not. looks like you’re done here anyway” You shrug.

“who’s done?” He stands up, simply snapping the tie apart.

“oh… you’ve still got more in you?”

“im the milkman, i never run out” He suddenly picks you up and sits on you on the desk. Jesus, these things are strong.

You wrap your hands around your neck, suddenly feeling the arousal for another round yourself.

His hands find your slick entrance, teasing the outside and slipping two cold slender fingers into you.

“mmm!” You mean into the kiss, holding onto his forearm as he fingered you at an inhumane pace. You break away and cat h your breath trying to slow him down a bit.

“i don’t want to cum from this, put it in” You say.

“yes ma’am” He lines himself up without your entrance and slowly pushes himself in with a moan. You could every centimeter of the stretch as he went deeper.

You tapped the back of your head onto the window behind you and felt him kissing on your neck and collarbone.

“fuck you’re big” Your voice slightly shook as you stated the obvious.

“and you’re so warm and wet inside, i ashamed to admit that i almost came putting it in” He chuckled before biting back another groan.

RIIIIING

RIIIIING

You snap your head in the direction of the phone and see D.D.D. calling.

Shit.

“stop, i have to take this.” He halts his thrusts and you grab the phone. “hello?”

“agent number” A deep voice says over the phone.

“5 5 8 4 3 7” You state clearly.

“thank you agent (Y/N), we’re calling about a few M.I.A. cleaners? it says in our system that you were the last to call. is everything alright?”

“ye-es~” You feel something rubbing your g-spot and look over at Francis. ‘stop, now.’ You mouth silently. He just smirks and speeds up.

“are you sure? you sound like you’re being threatened” The man on the phone asks.

“mhm~, im fine sir, just a little shaky” You put your hand over the phone speaker and look at Francis.

“what the fuck is wrong with you??” You ask, interrupting yourself with a few moans.

“just a little thirsty for some water” He thrusts harder, causing him to hit your g-spot, and your clit back to back.

You cover your mouth with your shirt and moan into it, hearing the buzz of a voice on the phone. Honestly you should be scared, they could show any minute, but right now, you could care less.

“im gonna cum” You whisper, still being mindful of the potential listeners.

“yeah?” He grabs a young and stands straight up, slamming you down into his cock. You let out something just short of a scream into the crook of his neck and find yourself twitching and shaking in his grip.

You heard a splash and felt him fill you up with his seed. You both were a moaning, groaning mess, heavily breathing in place.

“(Y/N), do you copy?……. we’re on our way” The phone then hangs up and the low buzzy voice is replaced with a prominent beep.

“you have to go, they’re coming” You lazily try to leave his strong hold with a tired push against his chest.

“but first” He puts you back on the desk where you rest your back against the cold glass window. “a drink..” His tongue grows longer right infont of you, and cleans you from your ankles to your navel, and of course he ran it over the bundle of nerves he’s been abusing all night, making your body jolt.

“you’re so delicious… i wish i could always taste you” His tongue goes back to its normal size.

“well i’ll get going now… i’ll be seeing you again soon, love. i’ll try not to cause too much trouble next time…” He gives you a peppery kiss on the nose and leaves.

Well, that’s one way to end your day shift…

[lovegasmic]

𝗣𝗟𝗔𝗬▶ 𝗩𝗛𝗦

WORKING OVERTIME ⭑.ᐟ.ᐣ

‘ toji fushiguro, kento nanami, sukuna x fem!reader ’

⌞ PG-18 ⌝ mild dub con ( reader gets aroused and never says no ) you better judge yourself◞ gangbang taking turns◞ inappropriate touching◞ no curses au◞ office sex ◞ stuck in a wall◞ cunilingus◞ anal fingering ◞ spit as lube◞ oral male receiving◞ creampie◞ unprotected sex ◞ cum swallow◞ reader is called dummy, princess and slut.

“c’mon pretty, I know you can get it” ever since you arrived at the company, Toji hasn’t lost a single chance to tease you, making his approach seem friendly when in reality, he just wanted to fuck you raw.

“i’m trying!” you huff in return, embarrassed by the current position that you find yourself in, stretching your hands to reach for the documents folder that fell behind large rack, and you, being the only girl working after hours was the perfect fit to help the man retreat such important material, “i can’t reach it!”

Toji is so grateful that you’re not watching him, allowing his eyes to wander through the way your round ass is up in the air, standing on tip toes while letting out huffs of exertion, sounds Toji wished to hear while being balls deep in your tight pussy. a soft yet firm slap lands on your butt cheek, not painful but making you squeal, “Toji!” you yell, ignoring the way your face burns and core throbs, denying the attraction you had to the man wouldn’t take you anywhere.

he chuckles, “you’re almost there, just a bit more... although, i’m not complaining if you take your time, the view over here is wonderful”

“you’re the worst” you mutter, used to Toji’s behavior and way too over friendly touching, the tips of your fingers brush over the hard edge of the folder, skimming in a little further to grasp it with a triumphant sound, “i got it! Toji help me out”

“of course, princess” the man smirks, holding onto your hips but instead of pulling, you feel him pushing you down and deeper into the rack, your head almost hanging from the other side of it.

“Toji you idiot! now i’m stuck, you made it worse”

“nah” he tuts, “i think I made it perfect” there’s a deep laugh coming from his chest, clearly enjoying himself, rubbing his hands across your thighs.

“what’s going on?” another voice joins, steady steps approaching your squirming form, and you can tell who it is immediately, another one of your coworkers who adores teasing you nonstop.

“dummy got stuck while trying to pick up a folder that fell” Toji’s voice is filled with humor, a bit mockingly if you had to say.

Sukuna grins, allowing his hand to rest on the small of your back, “is that so?” you hear him laugh.

“i hate you both” you bite back, trying to ignore the growing wetness between your legs, most likely staining your panties and dripping down your thighs.

“oh, but it seems like you’re enjoying this” the pink haired man speaks again, letting a single finger trace the contour of your pussy through the pencil skirt you wore, pushing enough for your wetness to seep through and drench the other layer of fabric.

“i’m not!” you hiss, futilely trying to kick the men only for them to grab your legs, one each.

“this sweet cunt of yours says otherwise” Toji huffs, raising your skirt until it pools around your waist, taking a teasing lick across your covered slit to which you mewl, hips wiggling against your better judgement, “don’t fight, honey, we’ll make you feel so good” Sukuna’s hands then reach forward, spreading out your pussy lips after Toji tugged your underwear down, letting it stretch around your knees.

“what a pretty thing you are” Sukuna speaks, letting his fingers caress the skin of your folds, teasingly sliding them across your wet clit just for a brief second.

by this point all rational thoughts are pretty much gone from your head, focusing on Toji’s heavy breathing straight in your core, and Sukuna’s thumbs keeping your hole spread and leaking. a loud groan resonates in the small room, followed closely by the dark haired man’s tongue plunging into your sopping cunt, so deep and so good your hands desperately try to find purchase in the smooth wall right in front of your eyes.

“she’s gorgeous” Sukuna groans, palming his bulge, “isn’t that right, Kento?” and you yelp at his words, a sound that could get easily mistaken as a pleasurable one since Toji kept on slurping loudly against your clit, sucking on your folds and swirling your slick on the tip of his tongue.

Sukuna and Toji were something, but you actually held respect towards the blonde, worried about how his opinion on you would change by watching you moan over your coworker eating you out.

“what do you think you’re doing?” his voice is deep and calm, a bit tired if you had to admit.

“Kento!” you gasp and kick, earning a pinch in your ass and Toji’s muffled voice vibrating against your pussy, “if you’re going to moan someone’s name so prettily it better be mine”

“oh, c’mon, join the fun, she’s enjoying the attention, like a little greedy slut” this time is Sukuna’a turn to speak, returning to his place by hunching next to your hips, his face hovering over where Toji continues his assault and letting a glob of spit to fall in the crack of your ass, using the thick substance to rub on your puckered hole.

“n-not there! i can’t—” you whine, thighs shaking from the double stimulation.

“you say that but your pussy is fluttering like crazy” Toji chuckles, now using two of his fingers to penetrate your hole, going at such a fast pace that you’re unable to speak and just moan, “cum, I know you’re close” he rasps, his fingers not flattering until liquid gushes out of your cunt and soaks his fingers at the same time as Sukuna’s finger dips in your asshole.

“o-oh, my god—!”

“fuck yes, you’re so goddamn sexy” they half praise, half groan, both men digits still buried inside your holes and moving in sync, slowly driving you insane.

a second finger joins the one in your ass and the ones in your pussy disappear, replaced by a sticky trail that left on your thigh, up and across your asscheeks where Toji glides his cockhead against, tapping on your clit a couple of times for his own selfish enjoyment in hearing you beg.

“please...” you whine, not certain of what but the emptiness of your cunt brought tears to your eyes, twitching in aftershocks of your previous orgasm.

“you better be on birth control, baby, because i’m fuckin’ you raw”

“elders first” Sukuna chuckles, observing intensely how Toji’s cock slowly disappears into your wet hole, ripping whines out of your mouth and forcing your ass to squeeze Sukuna’s fingers, biting back a groan of satisfaction at the idea of how tight you might feel inside.

“fuck me! f-feels so good!” you scream, attempting to dig your nails in the wall as a shiver runs down your spine once Toji’s cock is deeply buried inside your pussy, drooling precum inside your slippery walls.

“so fuckin’ hot, i’m going to enjoy breeding this tiny pussy” you mewl while the man starts to pound into you, slapping Sukuna’s hand away and replacing it with his thumb, fingering your tight hole as his cock stretches your cunt, groaning deeply at the tight squeeze of your walls, sucking him deeper with each thrust.

“i’m cumming again” you cry out, embarrassingly sooner than expected, unable to stop the sudden wave of pleasure surging through your body and forcing your walls to clamp down on the cock ruining your insides. he continues to fuck you through your orgasm until his own high gets triggered, cumming hard with a deep growl, halfway pulling out to spray your folds and lower back with cum.

“prettiest pussy i’ve ever fucked” Toji says, stepping aside to allow Sukuna to pull your thighs back, forcing you to take his cock in one swift motion, filling every inch of your pussy.

“you love this, don’t you, a perfect fuckhole, letting us take turns in fucking this tight pussy” Sykuna growls, moving in slow but hard thrusts that knock the air out of your lungs, bringing tears to your eyes and you slick to drip down on the floor.

“y-yes, Kuna! my pussy feels so good” you babble delirious, thighs shaking under the intense and hard pounding into your hot cunt, overstimulated but feeling impossibly good.

“fuuck, you’ll make me cum soon, better stretch this pussy nicely for Kento, hm? he acts all serious but has been jerking off for the past hour” Sukuna’s last words come quietly, almost like a secret you pretty much enjoy considering the sudden tightness in your walls, squeezing tightly around his cock while his hands grip your hips tightly, keeping you still as his balls slap against your clit.

“f-fill me up, please” you beg, eyes crossing as your pussy cums around him, taking Sukuna with you as his hips speed up, groans turning into growls while he fills you with his hot cum, pumping into you with tiny thrusts, more like humping your ass.

you breathe heavily, trying to compose your erratic heartbeat as Sukuna pulls out, cum oozing out of your hole and dripping down your thighs.

an unconscious yelp gets ripped out of your throat at the sudden pull of your legs, unstuck and landing on the floor with a dull thud where your knees hit.

“open your mouth” Kento growls, tugging your head back slightly enough to guide the dripping tip of his cock into your mouth, a bit of consideration to your abused cunt.

“wettest cunt, wettest mouth” Sukuna whistles next to the blonde, watching how his length comes out of your mouth glistening and soaked with your saliva, “aren’t you perfect everywhere?”

ignoring the other men in the room, Kento starts to use your throat back and forth, careful but firm enough to bring tears to your eyes, adoring how there's drool slipping from the corners of your lips, eyes glossy and almost rolled to the back of your skull with how good you feel. it doesn’t take much time for the man to approach his orgasm, rubbing your tongue with his cock head and slapping your cheeks before plunging it inside once again, his groans only increasing with the subtle buck of his hips against your mouth.

“i’m cumming, you swallow it all” he huffs, pressing into your mouth as deep as possible, making your nose rub on the peach fuzz above his cock, choking and moaning as cum fills your warm mouth. “next time I’ll be cumming in your pussy, since you love slutting yourself out”

[thalwri]

I HATE YOU, BUT I LOVE YOU!

synopsis: your friends think caleb's got a bit of an obsession over you since he's always by your side. what they don't know is that you're equally as obsessed. and you'll go to very extreme lengths to ensure everyone knows that he is yours.

warnings: porn no plot, heavy smut, shower sex, orgasm denial, inappropriate evol usage, body worship, making a sex tape, biting, marking (with lipstick and a few hickeys), cunnilingus, multiple orgasms, creampie, needy!caleb, possessive!reader, unhinged!reader, basically, you're matching each others freak. a lot.

wc: 2,4k

MINORS DO NOT INTERACT!

“you’re mine, caleb,” your whispers pierced his ears like a sharpened knife– the most stimulating sound he had heard in days. “mine. mine to touch, mine to post, mine to please and be pleased by. mine.”

he could only nod, and so he did. frantically and heated with need for you. for access to adore you. 

you had found him in the shower, muscular back turned to you. he had returned home in silence, almost plagued by his own thoughts. though you were deafened by your own mind too. the only difference was that you were infuriated.

you had seen some of his colleagues post pictures of him with them at his annual dinner with the fleet. the captions were provocative at the least, rumbling with desires to touch him in ways only you could, to have privileges only you owned.

they didn’t know him like you did. they didn’t experience everything you two had gone through together. 

so it was only fair for you to remind him of that fact. and show the world that he was only for you.

“i’ll burn and bury anyone who talks to you or even looks at you.” your eyes trailed down from his eyes to his swollen and bite-bruised lips to his neck adorned with fresh love bites. “i should keep you by my side, yeah?”

“yeah, you should,” caleb could only hold himself from getting giddy by this new sight of dominance. he’d rarely seen you behave this intensely with him and he wasn’t afraid to see more.

your hand gripped his, feeling the instantaneous surge of his evol resonating to you. before the surge could fade, with the flick of a wrist, you forced caleb to his knees. the gravity surrounded him alone to keep him at your feet, at your mercy.

he often got a kick at using his evol on you but for the tables to turn like this? he’d cum on the spot. his cock twitched, reddened and swollen by your refusal to give him the attention he needed.

“c-come on,” a loud whine flowed from the depths of his throat. he had been moaning and whining without you even having to touch him. you were feeding off his delicious noises, feeling as though he was egging you on to paint him in your lipstick kisses.

“please, i won’t even let them near me,” his lips found your thigh, pressing wet breathless kisses onto your skin in worship and reverence. “i’ll push them as far as possible and only open my space to you.”

“yeah?” you kneeled down to straddle him, holding his face in your hands. his eyes were swollen from the tears shed by you teasing him to the point where it hurt so much. he just had to beg for you, grovel, and whine. all of it.

“they’d even see that i’m yours.” he panted, lips curving into that beautiful smile you loved. the same smile you hated to see him give to others. he leaned to kiss your skin, peppering your flesh with light nibbles and bites, marking his affections and desire for you.

“we could record it,” his breathless sighs warmed up your dampened neck. “me declaring my heart is yours and broadcasting it for the world to see.”

a short giggle left your lips before you plopped down on his hips, completely filling yourself with his twitching cock. caleb’s eyes– brimming with tears of impatient need– rolled straight back into his head both agonised and delighted by how concerningly tight your pussy was– almost sucking him of everything he had. 

your hips slowly rocked back and forth allowing your nectar to leak out of you and lubricate him for easier movement between you. though you wouldn’t have had a problem with the roughness. 

“maybe i should take a picture of me riding you.” you deepened your grinding to emphasise your point. “i’ll crop out your face, to protect your reputation of course.”

caleb quickly shook his head in a daze– eyes clouded with lust and excitement. was he enjoying this?

“let– let them. let ‘em see me,” he forced a smile to stretch his swollen lips. that was the only thing keeping him from moaning loud enough for the fleet kilometres above to hear. “let ‘em know how weak you make me.”

the slick wetness from you and the now cold shower water kept his grips on your hips painfully tense to the point of indenting bruises. you could just feel his heavy sacks rubbing against your entrance as you squeezed your walls around his girth. every vein, every throb, every single divine twitch did not go unnoticed. 

it was boiling hot. the shower was off and yet the glass walls got so foggy so quickly. your hips slowly dragged up as you adjusted yourself to bounce on his length before you slowly dropped down and up and down in a broken rhythm. 

you so desperate to chase your high and feel him paint your insides, so horny for caleb that it pissed you off even more. and yet, through all that anger, you couldn’t help but adore and admire him beneath you. he looked so serene, so beautiful. how could you not love him?

feeling his cock effortlessly slide in and out of you hitting those delicious sensitive spots felt like pure ecstasy for you. your ass jiggled and clapped as it bounced, slapping his thighs and huge balls, screaming into the deafening silence of the afternoon. 

you caught your lower lip between your teeth to hold off the overwhelming urge to cum all over him at that very moment. just a bit longer. you had to torture him a little bit longer.

“you’re the only one for me,” caleb whined almost like he read the thought directly from your mind. a wide grin graced your pretty, flushed, cock-addicted face as he repeated himself over and over for you to hear and understand him clearly.

“i’m yours. yours. yours.’m gonna prove it any way you need me to.”

and a devilish idea struck your mind mid-bounce. you paused and slowed your pace to grind on his hips, curling his cock deep into you with no chance of him leaving your tight grip– not to mention your soaked pussy (as per usual) had a death grip on him.

you reached to the abandoned towel outside the shower and pulled out your phone, swiftly opening the camera app. caleb’s eyes slowly widened as he realised exactly what you were doing. he exhaled a laugh in disbelief and intrigue as you set the phone down to show you both in the frame without your faces being exposed. 

your finger hovered over the button to record and your grinds came to a halt. your eyes bore into his with complete sternness. “do you want this?”

he didn’t even hesitate. “yeah. show them who i belong to, baby.”

a ring sounded in the bathroom, and your hips returned to its torturous work. you planted your hands over his plump chest and squeezed to feel that muscular, soft flesh. your thumbs brushed over his nipples as drips of sweat and water pebbled from them, drawing a long moan from his lips.

“f-fuck,” he panted. he’d never experience a feeling like that before. they felt so sensitive and sore and yet the pain translated to pure pleasure by the time it reached his cock. it leaked globs of precum deep within you as your tantalising grinds picked up speed and friction.

your lips found their way to the shell of his ear and a wet swipe of your tongue sent shivers down his spine. you were so dominant today. and he was enjoying perhaps a little too much.

“i want you to be louder,” you hissed, nibbling the soft flesh of his ear lobe. “you know you can be.”

“‘m gonna need you to make things rougher for me,” the soft mounds of your pretty ass were caught in his grip, being fondled and massaged as he egged you on, using his strength to lift you up bit by bit until you could plop back down on his cock.

the mere sound of it made him groan, bowing his head to restrain himself. having his hands so comfy on your ass was divine, such a privilege. he pulled you higher and higher until your moans turned to cries. 

his leaky cockhead continuously pounded your spongy, sensitive point, throwing you into a frenzy. your rhythm became erratic, breath laboured and ragged. lines of red scratches marked his torso, victim of your nails painted the exact same colour as his reddened tip. 

your personal nicknames ran from caleb’s lips in a slur, connecting the syllables as if it were a lengthy poem he was reciting to you. his tongue lulled out, dripping strings of his saliva onto your bare chest, creating a sticky mess on you as your tiddies slapped against each other– colliding and changing shape like a malleable pair of heavenly flesh. he couldn’t keep his eyes off them, calling them his favourite melons in his mind– a perverted thought and description, but that was the least of the nasty thoughts he had of you.

“please– oh my god!” his moans quickly turned into whimpers. you couldn’t help but giggle. he was just too cute. 

his tongue ran up your collarbones to your neck until they tickled the corner of your lips to pull you into a lascivious kiss, tongues swirling and dancing in pursuit of getting closer than their bodies could allow. he was addicted to you. he wasn’t afraid to say it with relentless pride.

to be able to please that sweet cunny of yours with his cock, to be able to love and adore you, to live alongside you, that was all the pleasures he had of being yours. and he refused to trade it for anything else. nobody would ever be worth as much as you were to him.

you are his everything.

caleb swiftly lifted you up into his arms, almost using his evol before he remembered you were being recorded together. you yelped as he swung you both around so that you leaned against the wall, back warmed in place of his position. 

he sat on his knees, still holding you by your hips to align his cockhead with your dripping opening. in tempted arousal, he lifted you up to hook your legs on his shoulders, leaving only your ass and legs in view of the frame and his head completely concealed in between.

his hot tongue swiped up and down your folds, teasing its entrance into your hole. teasing you. he relished in your hitched cries and groans, you cursing him and demanding he stop teasing you. somehow it just got him harder that he already was. 

but because he loved you, he conceded and buried his face into your pussy. his nose nudged and tickled your sensitive bud while his tongue explored the mixed taste of his precum and your sweet nectar all stored in your pussy. the flavours blended perfectly. 

his loud, obnoxious slurps and his head occasionally shaking side to side brought you to a tremble, finally drawing that sweet climax out of you with a cute cry.

“ca– cale– oh fuck!” his name almost slipped out of your lips before you could restrain yourself. caleb moaned into your pussy before quickly pulling away to guide you back down to his hips, instantly dropping you onto his cock.

it slipped in so smoothly yet so roughly, sending every sensory signal in you screaming in alarm. too much, too much, my god, too much. 

caleb gripped your ass, kneading his fingers into your flesh, and pounded his hips right up into you. you hiccuped with each thrust, losing composure and falling deeper and deeper into your cockdrunk daze.

“too- too fast–“

“uh-uh,” he breathlessly moaned in your ear, rolling his hips faster and harder into you, so desperate to fill you with his seed. to claim you as you claim him. “you can take it.”

a deep groan rumbled in you making you grip the base of his neck with your hand, slowly squeezing until he gasped– and yet his psychotically fast pace never faltered. 

“i’m sure you can take– fuck– this– mmh– pussy too, huh?” your walls intuitively tightened around his thick, pistoning cock matching the hold you had on his neck. “this is the only pussy you’d worship, yeah?”

“the– only– one.” he gasped as he choked out his words. you were tempted to call him a good boy. despite the overwhelming entanglement of overstimulation and pure delight that caleb fucking you through and straight past your orgasm gave you, you were just so insatiably greedy for more.

“you wanna cum, yeah?” you crooned, wrapping your arms around his neck. you thought you had begun to taste a new degree of pleasure with caleb in that very position. 

“wanna make you cum again,” he said. a loud smack! resonated as a delicious sting spread around your ass cheek. “mmh, wanna cum in you so fucking bad.”

“then do it.”

and that he did. almost like it was on command– with a final harsh thrust, hot ribbons painted your walls like paint falling right onto the canvas. it was so hot, and creamy that the sting of his heat left you in near shambles.

there was just so much spilling into you that it spurted out of your pussy with each slowing jut of his hips. his mouth mumbled on, rambling i love you, i love you, i love you like a prayer and oath. even as he pulled out, cum still spurted out of his slit, painting the shower walls white with lust and satisfaction while the recording still ran, abandoned by both of you.

“you think you can let those people prance around you while knowing i am all you need?” choked gasps fill the air as your grip on his neck tightens. “no caleb. you don’t have that right.”

he merely nodded with a smile. “ ‘m all yours, my love. my eyes, my heart, my body, and my soul are only for you.”

now, caleb has experienced a great many terrifying things in his lifetime. a great many things. but you? you were an endless galaxy he would spend eternity exploring. all your complexities and charms just waiting for him to perceive. 

your peers had believed he was insane. clingy. obsessed. but they didn’t know you could be much, much, worse. and he wouldn’t have it any other way.

a/n: I've been listening to too much Tyler, the Creator. Also, this was inspired by one of @/cruxifixe 's works on tiktok

[tinystarbites]

accidents pt. II | Spencer Reid x fem!reader

Summary: during a long case away, Spencer accidentally sees Reader's nudes on her phone and can't cope because he is a MESS for reader whoops pt.II The Reckoning /j, this is basically just 10k words of porn with feelings yikes

Warnings: SMUT MDNI, 18+ only, fem!reader, fluff, some angst (still Spencer feeling he isn't good enough 😔), EMOTIONSSS, Spencer STILL loves you so much, he gets a hug, and so much more!, talk about sex, detailed asking for CONSENT (be safe people), sex (piv), some frottage, uhhh what else, dirty talk, some dom/sub understones (sub!Spencer ofc), little bit allusion to subspace, Spencer discovers so many kinks in this awww we're so proud of you bby (mentioned kinks: praise kink, squint of liking being embarrassed, tiiny bit of a voyeristic thing), also I made him a virgin whoops so virgin!Spencer, proofread but prolly not perfect lol. Tell me if I'm missing any tags I am so tired

(also, Spencer will be bisexual in all of my Spencer fics because I am not a coward like the writers were and I will honour Spencer the way he was intended to)

HERE you can read pt. I, I do recommend it to have context and all but do whatever you want lmao I'm not your mother anyway have fun being completely wrecked like I was while writing this!! also thanks so so MUCH for 400 followers and almost 2k likes on the first part, you guys are the best and I hope you enjoy this fic as a thanks!!<333

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Spencer’s never sprung from his bed faster in his life before.

His heart is a jackhammer in his chest, chipping away at his ribs one bone splitter at a time because-

It’s you. In front of his door. And Spencer is so hard it hurts but- he can’t just-

“Spencer?”

He sucks in a haggard breath, hands reaching up and messing up his hair even more. His thoughts are everywhere and nowhere at once and he just needs to- needs just a moment to-

“Uh, yeah, just a second!”, he calls back, voice scratchy and used from the- the moaning Jesus Christ because he was about to come with your mental image and he somehow, magically, managed to apparently conjure you up in front of his door with his pathetic pining and oh god-

He has to- ugh- has to wash his hands and make it go away and –

“Okay, I’ll just…chill with that weird plant here.”

An overwhelmed whimper slips past his lips and he just, stands there for at least another five seconds before something in his mind snaps back into place and he rushes to the small, adjacent bathroom of his room.

After he thoroughly washed his hands, his erection has flagged off enough so that it’s not the first thing greeting you when he opens the door and thank god for that.

And oh- seeing you after doing that actually knocks the wind out of his lungs because you are just so goddamn lovely it makes Spencer want to do stupid, stupid things like cry or kiss you or spontaneously combust into a million pieces.

For once, he does something okay-ishly sensible though.

“Hi.”

You look at him, one eyebrow raised in amusement or scepticism, he doesn’t know for sure. Your eyes hold mirthful sparkles in them when he finally manages to meet your gaze, so he settles for the former of the two options.

You’re not wearing your work clothes anymore. Rather, you went for a cozy looking, oversized sweater and funkily patterned leggings. Your fashion sense outside of work always reminded Spencer of Penelope’s.

“Hi to yourself”, you chuckle, “Can I come in or are you too busy reading ten books at once?”

Spencer feels himself flush under your gentle teasing.

“Only seven books. But, yes, of course you can come in.”

He turns out of the way, creating room for you to pass him into his room. As soon as you are inside, you don’t hesitate to jump onto his bed and flop on your back with your arms spread wide.

Spencer’s breath hitches and he has to do some very extensive mental gymnastics to supress all the inappropriate thoughts from escaping the box he banished them into. Controlling his body’s response to seeing you in the same bed he was just jacking off in is… a different story. He pulls down the hem of his shirt as discreetly as possible, as he takes a seat next to you. Making sure that there is not too much distance between you two as to raise any suspicion and make it obvious he’s trying to get some distance between you, but also enough space so that he isn’t enticed to do anything unwise. Like, reach out and feel your warmth underneath his fingers. Or the softness of your skin. Or anything else really.

The more seconds tick by in which neither of you say anything, the more nervous Spencer becomes. He starts fiddling around with his fingers, aborting more than one move to steal a glance at your face to see what you’re thinking.

“Spencer”, you then finally say, voice kind of pout-y and if that didn’t make Spencer whip his head around to face you, the next thing you say for sure does. “Do you hate me?”

“Wha-“, he sputters your name, “No- no! Of course, I don’t- whe- why would you think that?”

You let out an exasperated groan, moving around until you are lying on your side, head propped up on your arm and frowning up at him. “Because you’ve been acting hella weird these last few days and you won’t tell me whyyyy”, you drag out the last syllable, pout on your lips and Spencer has to look up at the ceiling or else he’s just going to confess everything without second thought and that will definitely not happen.

“I haven’t been acting weird, really, I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

You remain silent again and Spencer feels the judging glare you send his way without having to look at you. Yes, he has been acting weird, he knows that, but you can never ever know the reason why tha-

“Is it because you saw my nudes?”

Spencer almost breaks his neck with how fast he whips his head down to look at you again. A strangled noise escapes him without permission and what. What.

“Because, that would actually explain so much, especially the way you’ve been acting and really, that’s probably on me because I’ve always been telling myself to put them behind a password block but I somehow always manage to forget that because apparently I have only one braincell left that’s stuck spinning on the deep-fried version of Funky Town and well, I guess I’m glad it was you that found them and not someone else and-“

“What? No, no, I didn’t- What- that’s not- what-“, Spencer cuts off your rambling with a horrified, screeched version of a protest because how- how could you have guessed what’s going on with just one try? Is Spencer so- so absolutely besotted with you that he’s so obvious? Spencer is so very confused and overwhelmed with whatever the hell is going on, he kind of misses the slight twitching of your mouth.

“Come on, Spencer. I said it’s fine and basically my own fault. Uh- well, actually… sorry. Because, well, that’s probably not very work-appropriate… I will pay for your therapy session, just send me the bill.”

Spencer thought he’d reached the limits of confusion seconds ago but apparently, he hadn’t. What. What are you even saying?

“Therapy sessions?”

You just- ignore him.

“Oh, also, please don’t tell Hotch? He’ll be pissed, despite me literally just doing hot-girl shit, y’know-“

Oh, Spencer cannot take it anymore.

He says your name and, “Stop, please, please, just-“

You snap your mouth shut, pulling your lips between your teeth and Spencer definitely doesn’t miss the way you have to force your mouth to stay still this time.

“Are you- is this a joke?”, Spencer asks, frazzled and desperate and so confused he just wants to bury his head under the duvet and never come out again. Because if you don’t actually know but- are just joking around, oh Spencer is overwhelmed, alright.

Your expression changes into something panicked then. “No, no, Spencer, sorry. I’m- sorry. Of course I’m not joking, I’m so sorry. It’s just a little bit too easy to tease you. Sorry.” You actually look apologetic now, lips downturned and frowning slightly.

“Not joking- so… so, you know?”, there’s something big and anxious pressing inside of Spencer’s chest. The urge to hide away and never face daylight again intensifies tenfold. He’s flushing before he realizes, hands trembling and breathing a bit too fast to be considered normal. Oh god, you know, you actually know, you’re going to- you’re never going to speak with him again you are probably here to tell him how weird and- and-

You must’ve noticed the frenzy he is thinking himself into, because you reach out with one hand and gently nudge his thigh with one knuckle. “Spencer”, you say, voice serious and steady and not the slightest bit disgusted or harsh and it snaps him out of his anxiety spiral.

“I knew the second I walked back into that room after you basically fled the precinct. I am, really, genuinely, sorry for making you uncomfortable. Like, it wasn’t actually my intention for you to see them. And then, after I realized what… I just wanted to wait and see what you’d do, if you came to talk to me or, well…”

You sigh, the hand that nudged him ruffling through your hair.

“I didn’t handle this situation very well. I’m really sorry. So… “, you trail off, scrunching your nose in that adorable way of yours that makes Spencer want to kiss it until it scrunches even further because you’d laugh and try to fight him off.

“We can just- forget about this. Forget that it ever happened, or-“, you hesitate again.

Spencer feels suddenly breathless. Like he stands in front of a cliff face, seconds before taking the step to send himself careening towards something immeasurably great or devastatingly fatal.

“Or…?”, he breathes, voice small and unsure.

You meet his eyes again after what feels like hours. There’s something intense in them, burning, and it’s like an electric shock to Spencer’s system. He’d give anything for you to keep looking at him like that forever.

“Or”, your hand returns to his thigh, but this time you let your fingers travel along the shape of it and Spencer whimpers. The burning in your eyes intensifies and Spencer feels hot, suddenly, so hot he’s burning with it. “Or we can do something else.”

“Something else?”, Spencer basically croaks because his throat is so dry and it’s difficult for his body to function properly when you are touching him like that.

You hum in agreement. “Whatever you want. You can tell m-“

“You.”

You look a bit startled when he cuts you off with that one, desperate syllable. Startled but also endlessly amused and Spencer just- his mind is apparently turned off, what the-

You laugh quietly, and your eyes soften, and it does something to Spencer that leaves an ach-y feeling in his chest. Oh, he loves you so much he can’t take it.

“Sure. You can have me”, you say simply, as if it’s the easiest thing in the world for you to admit, “Tell me what exactly you want, because I’d give you the world if you asked.”

And suddenly there’s hot pressure behind Spencer’s eyes, at the back of his throat. You’re just- just- amazing and so lovely and so kind to him, no one has ever said something like that to him, he doesn’t know how to handle it.

Spencer blinks up to the ceiling, desperately willing these stupid unwelcome tears away because crying about you treating him kindly is so on the bottom of the list of acting casual about this, so he rather feels than sees you sitting up next to him. Your hand slips from his legs and he feels the loss of your touch as if someone sucked the marrow from his bones. Before he can say something embarrassing like ‘please touch me again’ he feels your hand covering his. It fills him with a heady kind of courage.

“I want…”, Spencer starts, feeling entirely too uncomfortable with having to state his deepest and darkest desires. There’s the old familiar urge to start picking at his nails nagging at him, but you just interlace your fingers with his and start tracing random patterns into the skin there with your thumb. Spencer melts against you and tenses up at the same time because it’s just so- so nice. It feels so nice and Spencer never thought he’d ever get to have things like that with you but you’re here. You’re here, with him, and basically offering Spencer the entire world on a silver platter but it’s still so so unfathomably difficult just saying what he so badly wants.

“You want…?”, you hum slightly, voice soft and so tender as you continue painting patterns on his skin and Spencer would literally die for you. And that’s the entire problem. Spencer doesn’t know if you’d do the same. Well. Maybe not die die for him but. He can’t just sleep with you, and it not meaning anything to you. It would kill him. It would kill him, if after you give him tenderness and pleasure and acceptance in a way he’s never dreamed of receiving, you would go back to normal. Always politely distanced, close, but never close enough and it already twists his chest just thinking of that possibility.

“I just-“, he tries again, but when the words are stuck in his throat, sticky molten sugar that tastes like bile and fear, he pulls out of your grip and buries his face in his hands. He’s so bad at this. He’s the worst. No wonder he’s never had- had something like Morgan has, one night stand after one night stand (not that he particularly wants that, god no, but just-) because Spencer is just so bad at spilling all of the things that plague his gut and keep his thoughts in overdrive at night. No wonder he’s never even had a girlfriend or boyfriend before.

“Hey, hey, Spencer”, he feels your hands cupping his own, still over his face. Not taking them away, but just – there. “It’s alright, penguin, we can always come back to this another time. I’ll wait.”

Spencer’s face crumples and his breath hitches a little because- penguin. That’s the frankly ridiculous nickname you’ve been using for him ever since he apparently once looked like one, with that white scarf and knee-length black coat he wore during one of your cases where a blizzard surprised not only the team, but also the unsub. Spencer, like most of you, wasn’t prepared and thus, had to make do with what the helpful officers provided them with. And well, Spencer drew the penguin stick it seemed.

It’s ridiculous but sweet and it always makes him feel so loved, loved by you, because it’s adorable and theirs and he just loves it irrationally much, okay? And also, penguins are just really fascinating because-

“Did you know that most penguins live monogamously? The Emperor penguin is actually one of the only ones that mate seasonally, they only have one mate per breeding season. But most others have a mate for life, like, like swans and bald eagles.”

Before Spencer even opened his mouth, he was aware of the fact he was going to ramble on about some unimportant stuff. It’s always like this, it always feels like a breath he’s been holding in for too long, like an itch somewhere in his weird brain that only stops when he opens his mouth and infodumps and he cannot stop it. No matter how consciously he is telling himself to cut it out or screaming at himself to shut the fuck up you weirdo, it’s unavoidable. As soon as his brain latches onto a statistic or a fact it is reminded of, it’s an unstoppable force.

Like now. He is kicking himself. Why, oh why can’t he ever be normal? He feels himself flushing bright red from embarrassment and shame and frustration. He can’t believe he is rambling about birds while- while whatever the hell you two are doing right now. While in the middle of a conversation that started out with you confronting him about him seeing your nudes, jesus christ.

Spencer is about to suffocate himself with a pillow when you let out a graceless snort.

It confuses Spencer so much he lowers his hands to look at you and- oh.

Your eyes are shining with something that looks so close to what he would call affection, and it makes him want to bawl his eyes out and at the same time, smile so hard there’ll be laugh lines on his cheeks for the rest of the week.

“Well, that fits perfectly then”, you say, and Spencer doesn’t understand.

“What do you mean?”

You smile just a little wider, a little more teasingly but in a nice way, in a kind way and it leaves Spencer’s chest blooming with warmth.

“If you’re my penguin, I’ll be your penguin.”

Youryouryouryouryour-

Spencer feels entirely braindead. Only the fact that you called him yours registers. Because yes. Yes. Spencer is so yours he’d gladly let you make every decision for him from now on in his life and yes. That’s not exactly a very normal thing to think. Or to want. Spencer doesn’t care. He’s never felt normal about you for a day in his life and he definitely won’t start now.

“You- you mean- like, as, as mates?”

You scrunch your nose in disgust. “If you want to call us that, I think I’ll take back my offer.”

It punches a giggle out of Spencer, sudden and kind of light-headed. He watches your face break into a wide grin.

“But you- you’d like that?” You’d like me?

You pull a face, sniffing in a nonchalant way, direct your face to your nails in fake disinterest.

“Sure. Whatever.”

And Spencer can’t help himself. He sobs out a laugh- laughs out a sob or, whatever that weird noise he makes is, because you’re so ridiculous and he loves you more than anything in the world.

You roll your eyes, fondly, shake your head slightly.

“Of course, Spencer. I’d like that very much because I like you a very unnormal amount. Literally. On my knees, crying, screaming etcetera”, you say just like that, smiling just like that.

Spencer feels like he’s dreaming. He must be. There’s no other explanation for it. He just can’t wrap his head around the fact that you could like him. You. You’re so, so lovely and amazing and you deserve everything good in this world and Spencer is just. Spencer.

“You- you like me? Me?”, Spencer can’t hide the incredulous tone that seeps into his questions because you like him?

There’s no traces of humour in your eyes anymore. Your eyes look painfully honest, face suddenly serious, and it steals Spencer’s breath away.

You lean closer to him again, grabbing his hands with yours. Your gaze bores itself into his, intense and steady and he can’t look away. “Spencer. I know it’s- I know life has been hard on you for way too long. And that leaves its marks on you. That’s fine. It’s human. But. You do not deserve any less love because of that, do you understand me? Of course I like you, what isn’t there to like? You’re kind and funny and sweet and just so- Spencer. You’re so lovable and it kills me to know that you don’t see how you are so worthy of being loved.”

Oh.

Oh.

You can’t just- can’t just say things like that and expect him to not cry a little. Can’t expect him to act completely nonchalant and cool about all of this when you say things like that to him. Are you trying to kill him? Because it sure does feel like that.

Spencer is so completely at a loss. He doesn’t know what to say to that- not to mention what to do. How do you always do this? How can you see straight to the hidden, bruised core of him, littered with all these ugly and bad things and. Just. Figure out what to say to strike him exactly there.

It should scare him, being known so deeply. It should, but it doesn’t because it’s you. You are warmth and acceptance like his favourite place in front of a fireplace, book in hand and rain gently knocking against windows. You are quiet mornings at work, you are soft rays of sunlight in his hair, you are gentle hands helping you up when you fall and bruise your knees. You are –

A touch to his cheek startles him. He opens his eyes – when did he close them? – to your fingers brushing some stray tears away, so softly as if he’s something precious, something to be held delicately. That thought sends new tears spilling down his cheek. He can’t believe this is affecting him so much, so completely he simultaneously feels like he is going to shatter and be stitched back together again.

He never knew he needed this so much.

“Sorry for making you cry, penguin. I didn’t think this discussion about my lack of nude etiquette would get this emotionally damaging”, you say, voice hushed in the big silence of the room, a small smile on your lips and eyes so kind.

Spencer snorts, despite himself. This has really been a very bizarre evening. He feels almost drunk on the weirdness of it all, on the rollercoaster that his emotions have ridden all evening. That’s probably why he does what he does next.  

“Neither did I, especially after you interrupted me while I wa-“

Spencer shuts his mouth so fast he clicks his teeth together, eyes wide and suddenly horrified. He- what-

Why?

Why can’t Spencer ever keep his big mouth shut? Is he completely and utterly insane?

There’re alarm bells going off somewhere in Spencer’s head and a concerning warmth settling deep in his stomach when your grin takes on a slightly devilish edge, one he knows all too well and. And. Oh. He’s in trouble. So much trouble. Why did he have to say that?

“After I interrupted you while?”, you prompt him, eyes electric and hot and oh god-

Spencer is so dumb. An idiot. Of the highest order. High IQ, where?

“Nothing”, he says, voice high-pitched and rushed and he curses himself and his ability to act everything else but nonchalant. He’d be the worst actor of all time.

“Spencer.”

The tone of your voice rearranges something in his neurons. He can feel himself sit up just that little bit straighter, can feel his mind buzz at the edges. He’s never felt like this before.

He loves it.

“Hmm?”, is all he gets out. Trouble, so much trouble.

Suddenly you’re standing up, away from him and Spencer wants to whine because you should stay there next to him, forever fixed to his side. He doesn’t have to despair long, because you take one of your knees and gently nudge his legs apart with it and okay. Okay. That definitely didn’t just send Spencer’s mind reeling. That wasn’t just totally the hottest thing that ever happened to him.

You slot yourself between his legs as if you own that space and. In his humble opinion, you do. You so do. Spencer is willing to give you a map of his entire body and a marker and tell you to please demarcate every part of him you want. He’d give it to you, no questions asked.

He is looking up at you, at your burning eyes that still hold something so soft in them that makes the lump in his throat bigger again. And by god, Spencer just needs to hear you say it again-

“You like me?”

You move closer to him, lifting one hand and placing it underneath his chin. Your thumb traces along his jaw and Spencer feels like he is going to burst into a million embarrassed pieces.

“Yes”, you say simply, but the way you say it. Spencer can’t help but shiver and exhale shakily. He feels so warm, everywhere. His skin burns where your fingers are touching him. He never wants this to stop.

“You- You want me?”

Your hand grips his face a little stronger, your other fingers splaying over and down his throat and there’s a high noise coming from somewhere and there’s goosebumps on his body everywhere and oh, wait- it’s him. The noise. Well, how embarrassing but. He doesn’t care. Nope. Not at all.

…Okay maybe a little. His face feels warm, suddenly, warmer than the rest of him and yes. He’s blushing, okay?

“Spencer”, the way you say his name it- god, “I want you. I said it before, but. I will give you anything. Tell me what you want, Spencer, and you will get it from me.”

Your eyes are so dark and your voice so low and Spencer actually whines and. He’s hard again, so hard, because he didn’t come before and now, he’s even more pent-up and his thoughts are a mess, but you haven’t even touched him more than this and he’s already so worked up from you just saying these things to him-

“I want you”, Spencer pants, currently finding no other English words in the dictionary of his mind. And well. Emily was right about him. IQ slashed to zero when pretty person do thing.

He watches you take a deep breath, as if to steady yourself, as if this whole thing is affecting you as much as it affects him but that’s- ridiculous. Impossible. Because. Have you seen yourself?

“I know that, Spencer. But what do you want from me? Do you want me to kiss you?”, you ask, face suddenly so close to his Spencer feels your breath fan over his skin, and he whimpers because yes he wants that wants that- “Do you want me to touch you more?”, your other hand grabs his side, gentle but just a little bit roughly and Spencer is suddenly vividly reminded of the fact how strong you are and he feels kind of lightheaded-

“Do you want me to fuck you, Spencer?”

Spencer is going to pass out. And die. And moan and say, “Please yes yes yes”. Maybe not in that particular order.

“Okay, angel, anything you want”, you say, smiling softly at him as if he’s the best thing in the world and angel. Angel. Angel.

Before he’s even started to process you calling him angel, he sees a glint in your eyes, that edge in your smile again and before he knows what’s happening, you’re kissing him.

You’re kissing him and it’s- everything.

Your mouth is soft against his, and Spencer’s insides twist and flutter and his brain is kind of lagging behind, but he wants to be closerclosercloser-

It’s so good Spencer completely blanks on everything. There’s nothing in his mind except the feel of your lips moving against his. There’s no insecurity, no embarrassment tainting this moment even though this is literally like, only the sixth kiss or so of Spencer’s life and he has no idea what he is doing. But it’s so good.

A noise somewhere between a moan and a whimper escapes him when you lick into his mouth and Spencer’s soul almost leaves his body. He feels you shudder where you are pressed together, chest to chest.

“Spencer, Spencer”, you breathe against his lips, in between wet, hot, kisses. You rub your nose against his, eyes closed.

“Hmm?”, he hums, his voice somewhere in Canada or wherever. His mouth is too busy smiling so wide it hurts, anyways. No time for articulating anything.

“You’re amazing, Spencer, amazing.”

And he wants to shake his head, no, because the only one amazing here is you. But it’s impossible to disagree with you when your mouth has returned to his in a way that is probably ruining him for anyone else. (He’s okay with that.)

You peck him on the lips once, twice more, before you press your lips against his jaw, exactly where you had your fingers before. Your hands are basically the only thing holding Spencer up in a sitting position, because he feels like molten chocolate in your hands. Muscles apparently forgetting to do their job and well. Who can blame them? Spencer has stopped thinking in proper sentences the moment you had walked into his life, so. Only a matter of time until you broke the rest of him as well.

You kiss his neck and Spencer gasps. It’s really been a hot minute - three years, one hundred, twenty-one days and twenty hours to be exact – the last time he made out with someone. Everything feels heightened on his heated skin, especially you opening your mouth against him and licking him oh god-

It almost feels like a reward when you gently bite at his skin next. Spencer almost screams.

“So good, so so good for me”, he hears you whisper into the skin of his neck and this time, Spencer does make a noise. Because yes. He wants that. Be good for you. That’s the only thing in his fuzzy mind that feels clear, that feels graspable.

He can see your pupils dilate. Can see the wicked lilt to your lips. “You like being good for me, don’t you, angel?”

ANGEL. Spencer is nodding his head before he knows he does so. “Yes, yes.”

“Fuck”, he hears you breathe against him and it’s strange, seeing the effect he has on you. Did really he do that? “I can’t believe how incredible you are, sweetheart.”

And you need to stop. If you keep calling Spencer these things- he’s pretty sure he won’t survive this. The team would need to find another genius to solve cases with. His cactus Greg would dry out and wilt and die. You and Penelope would need to find another victim to send confusing memes to.

“Did you like my pictures, Spencer?”, you then ask and that’s so not fair. You can’t just ask him that while he’s so utterly in your hands that he’s sure he’d tell you about every little fantasy he’s had about you ever if you asked.

Because Spencer wants to be good, feels that need so deeply in his bones, he nods frantically. “Yes, I- I liked them.”

At the same time the words leave his mouth, something feels wrong. There’s an ugly thing twisting in his stomach, so unpleasant it momentarily occludes the high-octane bliss-fuzz fogging up his mind.

You notice the shift in mood almost immediately. “What’s wrong, angel?”

And well. It’s just- that guilt. Of not saying anything to you about Spencer seeing your nudes, of just ogling you like that without your permission. That wasn’t very good of him. Actually, the opposite. He’s been bad and he hates that. Hates that so severely that there’s suddenly tears on his cheeks and oh no. That’s mortifying. Who cries before sex? Jesus Christ he’s such a virgin it is genuinely embarrassing.

“I’m- I’m sorry”, he stutters, a little bit hysterical, creating distance between you, arms slung around himself, “I should’ve, should’ve said something, I’m so so sorry, I’m the worst friend and now I’m- I’m crying, oh god, I’m so sorry-“

“Hey, hey hey whoa. Spencer, darling. Penguin. Look at me, please?”

But he shakes his head. He doesn’t deserve to look at you again. What was he even thinking? He was- so creepy and now- now-

Two warm hands grab his face and then Spencer is looking into your eyes again. He squeezes his own shut, but all that it does is send more tears spilling over his cheeks and he’s so fucking stupid-

“Baby, please.”

Spencer sobs.

Jesus Christ. Jesus Christ. That’s the best thing he has ever heard but he doesn’t deserve these things.

“Of course you deserve it, silly goose”, you say and oh. He’s said that out loud.

Your thumbs brush over his cheeks and Spencer can’t not lean into your touch, despite everything. Because that’s just the way it always is. He’s drawn to your warmth and tenderness like a moon revolves around its planet.

“I thought we’d established that it was an accident? And if it was someone’s fault, then mine, because no password, remember?”

Spencer opens his eyes. The deep affection swimming in yours makes him sob again. He’s a mess. A crying, horny mess and Spencer definitely fucked this up. Why does Spencer always ruin the few good things in his life?

“Spencer, Spencer. Hey. It’s okay, I promise you. We wouldn’t be doing this, if it wasn’t, okay?”, you kiss his nose. “Do you want to lay down, maybe?”

He nods, not really thinking clearly. He moves up the bed, under the covers and curls up on his side. He waits for you to get up from the bed, for you to walk over to the door and leave. To say that this was a mistake, he was a mistake. To say that you take back everything you said to him in the last half hour.

He’s not just a little surprised to feel your weight dip the mattress, to feel even more sudden warmth engulf him when you spoon him from behind. You start tracing swirly patterns over the skin of his arm and he feels goosebumps spread all over his body.

Some minutes tick by, you still holding him, when his tears have finally dried up. He doesn’t remember crying so much in one day. Spencer feels miserable.

“Do you still like me?”, he asks, and yes, it’s pathetic and stupid but. He doesn’t care if you never have sex or if you’re not going to be more than his friend now. Because the thought of you not being in his life in any capacity anymore- just no.

He can feel you freeze and take in a sharp breath. “Wha- Spencer. Of course, I still like you. I don’t care what we do, I just want to be with you. In any way you’ll have me.”

You sound so understanding and sincere and actually confused about his fear as if you’d never even think of not liking him anymore and and and-

And something in him just- snaps. He wants you, needs you so much he’s going to die if he doesn’t-

He shuffles and turns in your arms until he’s face to face with you. You look at him, eyebrow raised in question but so beautiful and lovely and you still like him-

“I want you so bad”, he says and then he presses his lips against yours again.

You respond immediately, low moan escaping you and Spencer is greedy, he wants to hear more, feel more, feel everything with you.

He’s kissing you as if he’s going to die if he ever stopped, which, yes, he absolutely would, and you kiss him back as if you can’t live without him. It makes everything become hazy again, like before, and every bad feeling suddenly feels eons away. Like he’s underwater, floaty and relaxed. Safe, he feels safe in the way you kiss him and hold him. Like you always do.

You move your kisses to his neck, sucking and biting and Spencer is moaning and moaning and can’t stop and then suddenly, you’re gone, what –

“Spencer, Spencer, wait”, you pant, out of breath and flushed and he wants to cry again, “Sorry, sorry I just-“

You frame his face in your hands, a little bit roughly. “I’m so sorry for making this so hard, you’re being so good for me, but Spencer. Have you done this before?”

Somewhere in the fog that is his minds, Spencer finds his voice. It’s high and airy but he doesn’t care. “No, no, I haven’t.”

He watches you take a deep breath, feels your fingers digging into his skin a little bit more.

“Tell me. Do you want this, Spencer?”, your voice is shaking as if you need to keep yourself in check and Spencer can’t believe he’s getting to see you like this.

“Yes”, he says because he can’t ever want anything else, and, “Please make me feel good.”

You inhale sharply, your grip on his face bordering on painful. “Spencer, you’re incredible, amazing, the best- I’ll make you feel good, okay? I’ll make you feel so good because you deserve it.”

“Yes”, Spencer is not ashamed of how whiny he sounds. No. He’s owning it now. This is his thing now, okay? He’ll gladly be your pathetic wet cat, or whatever the term was that you sometimes use to describe him with. Whatever it even means.

“Good”, you grin, and then you push on his shoulder hard and he’s on his back. And you. Sitting on top of him, thighs on either side of him. Straddling him exactly where he wants you most and he exhales a needy ‘ah’. His hypothesis of liking being manhandled is… yet to be disproven. He’s discovering so many things about himself today.

Pleasure radiates in waves from where you’re passively giving pressure to his hard cock and yeah okay. This is good. Amazing. He’s never felt better. But-

“Please.”

“Please what, angel?”

“More?”

“More what?”

Your fingers trailing along his throat and jaw, down his chest and teasing ghost-like over his nipples are not really helpful in finding the right words to what he wants. You take pity on him.

“More touch?”

Spencer nods his head, so fast he almost gets dizzy because he’s at that point again where everything feels liquid, hazy, a little bit unreal. So, speaking is already quite the task.

You smile at him as if he just solved the most difficult equation. “Doing so good, Spencer. Incredible.”

He moans. Okay. Another hypothesis to add to his ever-growing list of scientific discoveries today.

“Where do you want touch, Spencer? Here?”, there’s hands in his hair. He shakes his head.

“Hmm… Here?”, fingers drawing circles on his chest and yes, that feels nice, so nice but he wants-

“Here?”, you ground your hips down and jesus-

“Yes!”, Spencer almost chokes on the sound. Pleasure shoots up his spine and he whimpers. “Please.”

You exhale shakily, looking flush. “Okay. Because you ask so nicely.” There’re two little taps on his lower stomach through his shirt. “Do you want to take this off first? Or no?”

The way you give him the chance to say no- the way you respect his autonomy so deeply-

It’s basic human decency, yes, but it’s also the hottest thing and Spencer feels so valued and understood and safe that he’s not even hesitating when he mutters a quiet yes.

You help him sit up because he’s currently not really heir over his body like he usually is. Help his head out of the shirt and thread his arms out. And then, he’s half naked in front of you and suddenly, the doubt and insecurity that’ve been so quiet so far are back with a vengeance.

The urge to cover himself is so big it’s impossible to stop his arms from wrapping around himself.

Spencer knows he’s not ugly. He’s not that bad looking actually. Can’t be too bad if Morgan keeps insisting on calling him pretty boy, even though Spencer sometimes still has the sneaking suspicion that he’s teasing him. But his friend wouldn’t be so cruel.

But other people like to be. Pipe-cleaner, leek, straw, big-eyes. He’s heard it all before. He has matured enough and grown into himself so that these things don’t bother him like they used to. But still. Still. These things are arduous to scrub from under his skin.

Your gaze on him though- he’s never felt so, cleaned from all of these mean words before. You look- you look reverent while mapping his skin and maybe that’s the reason why he lowers his arms again.

“Spencer. You’re a dream”, you say, almost in trance. Almost as if you’re hypnotized by him, and he’s flushing. But. Being watched so intently, being admired like that. He feels his dick give an indigent twitch against your clothed core. Another thing for the list.

“So impatient”, you tut and Spencer flushes more. He thinks he’s waited long enough for this. But he doesn’t say that. If you stopped now- he would definitely combust spontaneously.

You lean down, over him. Hands trailing along his sides like you did earlier, but without any clothes between your skin and his. It’s almost too much. And not enough. He feels electrified, where you touch him. His heart is hammering against his ribs so hard you must be able to feel it. His stomach is in knots, fluttery. He’s never felt more alive.

You connect your lips to his throat, placing kiss after kiss along the arched length of it. Follow the same path with your tongue and Spencer whines, curves up against you a little. Everything feels so good Spencer is floating in it.

You shift your attention to his collarbones next, kissing but then gently biting and Spencer feels the indents of your teeth all the way through to his back and he hopes, wants, you to sink them into him so deep they’ll leave marks. So that he carries the evidence of this with him for the rest of this case, so that there’s absolutely no more doubt to who he belongs to. That thought alone makes him whimper, makes him feel that tiny little bit more lost in you.

You start kissing along his chest, down his stomach. Open mouthed, wet kisses and Spencer shivers when the places you put them feel cold after because of your spit. The lower you get, the noisier he becomes and at one point, Spencer would’ve been embarrassed. Well, he kind of is, but he’s also so turned on that the embarrassment doesn’t feel as stifling like usual. Rather, in a weird way, it makes everything hotter, and he does not own enough brain capacity right now to decipher that. But he does add it to the list.

When your face is dangerously close to the waistband of his pyjama, Spencer tenses, holds his breath. Being shirtless is one thing, but… well.

“It’s okay, Spencer. We only do as much as you feel comfortable with”, you murmur, giving a small peck to the left of his belly button. You calmingly follow his sides with your hands, smiling at him with so much affection in your eyes that Spencer feels speechless, breathless, until the tension releases his muscles again and he melts into the sheets.

“’m just…”, he tries, he really tries so hard to tell you that he wants this more than anything he’s ever wanted but that he just feels… insecure.

You kiss his stomach again. “How about we only take off the pyjama? For now? If you want to take off your underwear too later, we can still do that.”

That… that’s actually a good idea. So, he nods.

“Words, angel.”

“Yes, yes. That’s- good.”

You look so proud of him. “You’re so good, Spencer. Perfect.”

He moans embarrassingly loud. He really should be more concerned about this. About how you are basically pulling him apart, thread by thread and he just lets you, willingly. How you know which threads to pull to reduce him to a sweaty mess in what felt like 0.2 seconds.

There’s a finger dipping beneath the waistband, moving back and forth along the newly exposed skin. Your eyes watch him intently, almost predator-like. A question is in there somewhere as well and Spencer nods again.

You help him lift his hips, help him pull down the pants. Spencer is kind of busy kicking his legs a little to shake them off completely but when he looks back and down himself to where you are hyper-focused on the outline of his cock through the thin fabric he blushes.

Even more when he notices the big, dark blue splotch in front of his underwear. That’s definitely never happened before. How embarrassing.

When you look up at him again, you’re also flushed. Eyes dark, wide, voice kind of unsteady. “Spencer, Spencer, can I?”

“Please”, and then you palm him with your hand, and it feels so good it takes all of his concentration to not come on the spot. He doesn’t know if he’ll survive this until you arrive to the main thing.

It’s not the first time someone has touched him like that, but it is the first time you are doing it, and it already feels better than anything he’s ever felt before. You’re either a wizard or Spencer is just biased because he thinks everything you do is ten times better than the same thing done by someone else.

Probably the first reason.

He has his head angled back, one of his arms thrown over his eyes. If he looked at you now, he’s pretty sure, he’d come. Visual stimulation on top of physical would probably be the end of him. It’s already too much, just feeling your hand move up and down his dick in various pressures. Almost as if you are testing what he likes best, and Spencer is definitely here for it. Definitely. He’s happy to just let you experiment with him until you know all the different ways to drive him mad with pleasure with just a few moves.

Which, you apparently already figured out, judging by the way Spencer can’t form a single coherent thought anymore. It’s already, so good, so freaking good holy shit, and you’re still not touching him. Still a layer of fabric between your hand and him and he kind of- just-

“Take it off?”

You still your hand, looking up at him. You look kind of crazed, almost a little pained. It takes two deep breaths for you to process what he just asked, eyes a little unfocused before they fix Spencer to the bed with an intensity that makes him feel unfocused. “You sure, angel?”

Spencer literally can’t do anything but nod. You stay in your position for some moments longer, before you sigh out a long breath, mumbling something that suspiciously resembles you’re gonna be the death of me. Spencer misses your warmth on top of him the second you hoist yourself up. It’s kind of crazy and destitute of him. You are literally right there but he’s waited for this for so long it feels like he’s suffocating without your weight pressing him down. Which is ironic and also, insane.

Your fingers are gentle, when they move under the stretchy fabric of his underwear. Even gentler when they pull down and down and down until Spencer is entirely naked in front of you.

Oh, he feels so exposed. While he has been the recipient of a mediocre hand job before, it’s been in his trousers. This is kind of the first time someone sees him naked like that, because school locker rooms and his mother don’t count.

He doesn’t dare look at you. If there’s anything akin to disappointment, not to mention disgust on your face- Spencer probably would have to jump out the window, stat. His gaze is frozen on his cock, steadily leaking precum on his stomach (which, embarrassing). He’s abashedly trying to insert himself into your point of view, tries to imagine what you think about seeing him like this. What you might think about his dick, if it’s too short or too thin or if it looks weird, if he should’ve shaved. If his legs look strange and too gangly now, or if his stomach connects to his pubic area wrong or-

“Holy shit”, you say, and Spencer is too curious for his own damn good sometimes, because he can’t force his gaze to stay away from you.

You look at him- like before. Reverent but more, so much more. He almost feels like a deity, the way you look at him. Someone to be awed by, someone that should be worshipped. Spencer feels his already in overdrive heartbeat quicken even more, blood flushing his cheeks so much it leaks down his throat, to his chest.

Spencer would literally kill to have you look at him like this for the rest of his life.

“Holy shit, Spencer”, you repeat, eyes now meeting his, “You’re like- a literal fucking dream. I cannot believe- you’re so beautiful, how are you so beautiful everywhere?”

Spencer whimpers and he needs you to touch him kiss him fuck him anything please now or he will absolutely die from heart palpitations.

Some of his despairing thoughts must’ve come through to you, because the next thing you do is moan, which is the best thing he’s ever heard. Then, you take off your sweater. Second to go is your cropped tank top and you aren’t wearing a bra and good heavens.

Pictures could never compare. Not even Botticelli could’ve adequately committed you to canvas.

Spencer must’ve taken some brain damage from seeing you half naked. He doesn’t remember you taking off the remainder of your clothes, nor does he remember you straddling him again. But, fuck.

Spencer kind of doesn’t use the f-word that often but-

fuckfuckfuckufuckfkcufuckfuckfuckfuckfuckfuckcufkc-

You’re warm against him, and wet, so freaking wet, and it feels so mind-blowingly good- it’s a miracle he’s still holding on. But-

“Won’t last long”, he gets out, breathy and whiny and just so goddamn fuzzy from pleasure. The world could literally perish right now, and he wouldn’t care. He can’t care, because this is the best thing that ever happened to him and he won’t ever care about anything else ever again other than feeling you, you you you you, against him.

“Spencer, Spencer”, you breathe, gasp, and fuck, the way you keep using his name. “Are you okay? Do you still want this?”

It’s ridiculous you even ask. But the warmth in his chest, the feeling of comfort and safety and ease – because everything with you is so easy, so natural - he feels with the way you look after him-

He feels your thumbs caressing his wet cheeks. You put small, sweet kisses all over his face. Take the time to brush away some of his sweat-sticky hair from his forehead. Place kisses there too. You end with a drawn out, gentle kiss to his lips.

“What do you say, sweetheart?”

There’s really only one way for him to answer that. He trusts you. Plain and simple. There’s no one else he could ever do this with.

“Yes, I want. Please.”

You kiss him again. “So good Spencer, you’re so fucking good to me. I can’t believe you are trusting me with this. You are incredible, angel.”

Spencer doesn’t know how it’s anatomically possible, but he blushes even harder. Also, feels his cock twitch against you because he apparently likes to be called good almost as much as he likes being good. For you. Only you. Jesus Christ.

“Do you have a condom?”, you ask and ah. Well.

“Suitcase”, and wow. First word with more than one syllable since you straddled him the first time. He’s being so brave right now. He deserves a medal. Proof of Being Able to Speak Polysyllabic Words While Getting Fucked (Almost).

There’s humour glistening in your eyes, when you hide a fake gasp behind your hand and say, “Oh my god, Spencer you dog. Can’t believe you planned this entire thing.”

Spencer almost chokes on his own spit. “N-no! I just- uh, like being prepared.”

You grind down a snort, drive your teeth into your lower lip. “In case you accidentally saw your coworker’s nudes and them being down to fuck you about it?"

Oh my god, you’re the most ridiculous person he’s ever met. He can’t stop himself from grinning because seeing you trying to keep your laughter at bay-

“Yes. That.”

“But what if- what if it was Rossi instead of you seeing them? How would’ve your plan worked out then, huh?”, you wheeze, shaking from literal suppressed laughter and Spencer makes a sound like a dying horse.

“Rossi? Rossi?”

“Oh my god, imagine it would’ve been Hotch. He would’ve probably fired me so hard and then called me a week later to disappointed-dad-talk me to come back but to please, refrain from bringing personal files to work in the future.”

Spencer laughs. He’s still rock-hard underneath you, but he’s laughing because that’s what you always do. Being so absurd and silly that he’s shocked to laughter.

He adores you with every fibre of his being.

“What the fuck?”, you ask, incredulous but laughing yourself, “Is my misery amusing to you?”

And Spencer feels like being a little bit of a brat. “Very.”

You flick his nose. Grumble something like I’ll show you misery and then you move your hips against his and Spencer sees stars. Let’s out an embarrassingly high whine.

Ah well. It was still worth it.

“Don’t move”, you order, when you climb down from him to retrieve a condom. Spencer watches you, lets himself look at you. All the times he’s wondered how it would be, how it would feel like, being in this kind of situation with you. He’s never in a million years thought it would feel so familiar. Like you’ve done this before, so many times that it’s just become something normal between you two. He’s actually relaxed. So turned on it feels like he’s going to burst any second, but he’s calm. He feels comfortable, so much so that it doesn’t even matter that it’s the first time he’s doing this and he’s so clueless about all of this.

But he knows, if it’s with you, he never ever has to worry about anything.

“Do you have lube as well?”, you ask, rifling through his suitcase and distracting him from his sappy thoughts.

“Hmm. No, I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be, angel”, you say while returning to Spencer, and the nickname kind of switches something off again in his brain. Perfect. He’s never going to be able to be normal again about that word.

“We’ll have to get some, for next time. Always feels better with it.”

Spencer hasn’t really registered more than next time next time next time-

He’s pulled out of his daze of knowing your intentions of this not only being a one-off thing, when you straddle him again, a bit lower on his legs. Spencer moans, loud and high, when you grab him by the base and god, fuck, his skin is tingling with anticipation.

With your other hand, you grab the condom and then use your teeth to open the packet, and his cock jumps in your hand. How are you so hot. How does everything you do turn him on so much, what.

He watches you take out the plastic ring as if he’s watching from above, out of his body. He watches as you position the condom over his tip and then pull it down, down and Spencer’s brain must be lagging because he feels everything with at least a two second delay and shit, god, son of a-

“You ready, baby?”

He makes a noise between a sob and a whine. He’s losing his mind. “Please please please-“

“Fuck, Spencer”, you whine, lift yourself up a bit with your legs and then you are sinking down on him, inch by agonizing inch.

It’s so good, it’s so good, you are so warm, so hot, and Spencer can’t stop making noises until your hips are flush to his and he’s inside you.

You let out a loud, drawn-out moan above him. “Fuck, fuck, Spencer. You feel so fucking good, holy shit.”

He feels like he’s one move away from coming. God, oh god, it feels so incredible.

“Can I move? Spencer, please?”, your voice is wrecked, you’re flushed down to your navel, and you’re the best thing he’s ever seen.

“Please please please please”, it’s the only word he remembers how to pronounce.

“Fuck”, you almost sob, lifting yourself almost completely off him. You lower yourself back down again, one swift move, and you both moan.

You pick up the pace a little, fucking him with still languid but purposeful thrusts. Every time his cock sinks back into you, Spencer feels bits and pieces of his sanity crumbling away. He can’t think, can’t speak, his mind so fogged up and fuzzy he’s having troubles remembering who he is. He’s so completely at your mercy he’d let you do anything to him.

That turns him on a worryingly huge amount. List, something about a list somewhere.

“Oh, god, look at you. Spencer, baby, angel. You feel so good inside of me, so good.”

He keens, grabs at your strong thighs bracketing his slim hips. Arches up into you, closerclosercloser-

“You like being good for me, right angel?”, you ask, hips slowing down to a gentle grinding that absolutely drives Spencer insane and he’s too far gone to even nod, “It suits you. Being so wrecked for me, moaning and shaking. God, fuck, you’re divine, Spencer, fuck.”

The pressure behind his cock, low in his stomach, that’s been building all evening, all week, holy shit, it’s too much. Spencer feels delirious, feels your hotness around him, feels your hands pressing his chest down into the bed. He’s going to die it feels so good.

“You going to come for me, Spencer? You gonna be good for me and come inside of me?”

Please please please please- it’s all he can think, all he can feel, because because-

You give a particularly hard thrust and-

Spencer’s coming, moaning and moaning, shaking everywhere. He’s coming and it feels so good, so fucking good. He’s never come so hard in his life before.

He might have blacked out a little. The next time he’s aware of something, it’s you cleaning him with a wet washcloth. Slow, and gentle and Jesus.

“What?”, is the first thing he manages to say, and you snicker beside him. You caress his face, hand running through his hair, down his chest. Peck his lips. You’re both still naked.

“Feeling good?”, you ask and what kind of question even is that. You just fucked the soul from his body, and you ask him-

“I almost died”, he says, tagging your name at the end with an incredulous tint to it.

You snort, setting the washcloth on the nightstand behind you. You lie down close to him, cuddling into his side. “That was the plan.”

“Killing me with sex?”

“Yep. That’s for ogling my nudes without my permission, you creep.”

He says your name again, exasperated but so fucking fond it’s a miracle you’ve never noticed his pining before. You shrug, pull a ‘what can you do face’. Spencer rolls his eyes and then, unceremoniously, flops on top of you.

“Uffff”, you press out. “You’re smothering me, penguin.”

Spencer shrugs and copies the expression you just did. You bark out a laugh.

“Ha! Didn’t know post-sex Spencer is such a cheeky little shit. I’ve created a monster.”

He can’t entirely control his face, some parts of a smile slipping into his features. He does manage to poke out his tongue at you though, before he buries his face in your neck.

Some minutes tick by, you both enjoying the other’s presence and warmth and idleness, before something in his brain-

“Wait-“, Spencer splutters, pushing himself away from you so that he can look at you. “Did you- did you even finish?”

He’s kind of horrified. He was so focused on his pleasure- he- how did he forget? He doesn’t remember you coming and oh no, he’s such an asshole, who doesn’t make sure the other person has come as well and-

“Spencer, Spencer”, you shush him, fingers trailing along his back, and he shivers, eyes rolling back.

“I made myself come right after, don’t worry. You were kind of busy in your post-orgasm, pussy-drunk coma.”

Spencer flushes. “But I wanted to…”

You laugh softly. “You can do whatever to me, next time, sweets. This was about you. We’ll go on a date as soon as we’re back home. Fucking Florida is driving me nuts.”

Oh, he suddenly feels shy. A date? You want to go on a date with him?

“Really?”, he asks, and he hates how insecure he sounds.

You send him an unbelieving look. “Uh, what about the last hour makes you think otherwise? Seriously, Spencer, we need to work on your confidence.”

“Okay”, he mutters, a little bit pout-y and you scoff, pulling him down on top of your chest again.

There, with your hands painting patterns on his back and him completely lost in your warmth and familiarity, Spencer thinks that maybe, Florida isn’t that bad.

--

Bonus

“So, then. Made any scientific discoveries last night, pretty boy?”

Spencer chokes on his coffee.

“What?”

“Nothing”, his ‘friend’ says, smirking and leaning against his table, “You just seem to have figured out that little problem that’s been keeping that pretty head of yours all messed up.”

Spencer feels himself flush. Stupid body and stupid involuntary, physiological reactions. Morgan picks up on it, of course.

“Ohhhhh, want to share with the class what those discoveries were?”

Briefly, so very briefly, Spencer thinks of his self-compiled list but- no no no no.

“Shut up, Morgan.”

⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂ ⠂⠄⠄⠂☆

tags: @sebastiansstanswhore @xx-spooky-little-vampire-xx @wasitforrevenge @wannabewolf @tommorecommendedfics @winterhi09 @theoraekenslover @chaewondrful @okeyhoezayy @busy-buzzing @laurakirsten0502 @redros3y @trashxqueen @kitty-kei @so-long-daisymay @hayleythecannibal @jsnsnsnszjzj @reeidsluv @kayane28 @moonysreid @desperately-seeking-serotonin @munsonslunchbox @tul1p-mimi @anuttellaa @pinkgomie @elizabethmidnight2017 @evrmorets @cyanidebitsg @bangchansdog @pinterestwhore145 @some-one-yiu-dont-kno @emma-e-a

i hope these work lmao, also let me know if you wanna be on my eternal tag list for any future Spencer fic ;)

[hoshigray]

Could you maybe do the jjk men with a brat reader?

˚₊‧꒰ა !! BRA✮T✮AMER !! ໒꒱ ‧₊˚ | jjk men

✿꫶ ᩨkento, satoru, suguru, sukuna & toji × taming their bratty baby

contents: JJK men x fem! reader - explicit content; minors DNI - size differences - brat taming - fingering (f! receiving) - oral (m! receiving) - manhandling - shibari; rope bondage - sex toys - impact play (p + a slapping) - Daddy kink - overstimulation - unprotected sex (psa: wrap it up, or get tf up) - more stuff specified in their respective perspectives - mentions of drool/spit, pain, and tears.

word count: 3.8k

a. note: my first multi-chara post to celebrate 10k, yippeee!! lmk how i did ( •◡-)-✩

── ✿ Nanami Kento ⋮ sex in a public space; office room - thigh riding - fingering (f! receiving) - clitoral play (pressing and pinching) - orgasm denial - pet names (baby, [my] love, sweetpea).

“Taaahhh, Kentooo, more, mooore…”

All you had to do was be good, not cause too much trouble for your boyfriend in his place of work, and be patient.

So why does your man have to pull you aside to one of the offices of Jujutsu Tech to correct you?

“You’re not supposed to be enjoying yourself, love. Especially after that stunt you pulled a few minutes ago.”

Nanami pressed you against a wall, his arms caging you and a leg between yours. After a rather inappropriate display of affection, you had showcased to one of the faculty members he was speaking with–poor Ijichi–he grabbed your wrist and stormed inside to find the quietest area to deal with you. What is supposed to be a talk on your childish antics turned into…you riding his thigh?

He doesn’t know why or how it happened; one moment, he was lecturing you on how indecent your behavior was (in a school, no less!), and then he watched your attention drift downward, away from his chocolate eyes to the tan pants. Your hips slowly come to and fro, sliding your groin on the hard surface of his thigh. He catches on after the third or fourth thrust, the tone of this conversation dialing to a more intimate connotation. 

Your hands grab hold of his blazer, shaky huffs escaping your lips. “Ohhh, Kentooo,” you purr with a bitten lip. “You feel so good…”

“Is this what you wanted?” The blonde man comes to your ear to whisper and shivers crawl up your spine as you nod. He brings a hand to cup and squish your cheeks. “But explain why you were playing with my belt in front of my peers, my love?”

“Because,” you drop your head on his chest, the rhythm ace of your hips going a bit faster. “You're supposed to—Mmmm!—give me…attention.” 

“Yeah?” He chews on your ear, and a soft gasp exits your mouth. “Doesn’t mean you have to do stuff like that, honey; it makes me look bad.”

You giggled. “You know how much I love to see your reactions, babe. It’s funny—Eeyaah!”

“Well, I’m not laughing,” Nanami’s hand glided down to your skirt, lifting it to touch your groin covered by underwear, and it’s not surprising to feel a damp spot getting wetter. “I’ve told you multiple times to be patient.”

“I…I–I can’t help it!” He shushes you as your voice gets a bit louder, but that’s expected when his thick fingers press hard on your clit. “Whenever I’m with you, I want to be the—fuck—the only thing you care about…”

Nanami kisses your cheek faintly, and you melt to the kiss as his fingers slither inside your panties. “You know I always care about you,” his middle finger teasing your labia and getting covered by your slick. “And when it’s just us two, I always know how to treat you right, huh?”

“Yessss,” you sigh heavenly; the feel of his digit teasing your entrance have you giddy, and his thumb brushing and pressing up on your clit makes you jitter. “Ohhh, Ken, right there…”

“What’s that, sweetpea?” He gently pinches your bud with his thumb and fore, and you grip his blazer as reins. “Want me to care for my baby like I know how?” You slam your lips onto his; he groans and permits the kiss, sucking on your tongue while his fingers curl and erupt moans of pleasure for him to drink. You separate to pant heavily, and he says: “Tell me, my love.”

Oh, God, yes! The bucks of your hips get faster. “Yess, pleaseee…!”

He huffs with a tiny smile. “Well, not right now.”

….Huh?

Nanami removes his fingers from your skirt and immediately removes himself from you, wiping your essence with his tongue and handkerchief. “Like I said, you must be patient to get what you want.”

Wait, huh?!? “W-Wait a minute, we were,” you watch him walk to the office door. “Just getting…started.”

“I know; I gave you a small taste of what’s to come after my meeting,” he opens the sliding door. “Until then, stay here and be good like I told you.”

“Hold on—Kento, stop!” Before he leaves, Nanami gives you a smirk, a tiny sign of victory on his part. And with the close of the door, you groan out loud for all the people of the school to hear.

── ✿ Gojō Satoru ⋮ oral (f! receiving) - fingering (f! receiving) - clitoral play (licking + sucking) - multiple orgasms - overstimulation - pet names (angel, baby, princess, sweetie) - mention of drool/spit.

“Haaaahshiiiit! Ahhhh, ‘Toruuu, shtop iiiit!!”

“Mmphaa—fucking God, you taste so fucking good, angel.”

Gojo is just as childish as you—don’t let the height and the intimidating aura fool you, motherfucker is a literal overgrown child. When he needs to be serious, he will deliver as the strongest sorcerer of the modern era, and his confidence and indestructible arrogance are what aid him in flying through his enemies or people who wrongfully think they can try to control him.

And that also goes for you, his little cute brat of a crybaby.

“Sat’ruuuu, don’t suck so h—Aaaahh!!”

You loved to play fire with fire with your tall boyfriend, both harboring an ego that clashes periodically. You never want to make it easy for him; he’s the strongest, after all—he should be able to handle you! For example, one thing that Gojo can’t stand when he’s with you is ignoring him. You want to get him really on his nerves? Just ignore him as best as you can! And that’s what you did, walking around your shared apartment, not coming to him when he calls or listening to music on full blast while scrolling on your phone until he snatches it off your head.

Or–and this is the best–moving away from him whenever he’s affectionate towards you. Oh, it messes with his head! He puts an arm around you? Scoot out of his reach. Wants to hold hands with you? Nonchalantly remove yours and act like you’re checking your nails. Pulling you in for a hug and kiss? Suck your teeth and put your hand on his expecting lips, and move somewhere else to really add salt to the wound.

It leaves him shellshock, gawking at your figure walking away from him—and you know his expressions must be golden. But he’s not dumb—he knows what game you’re playing. And, most certainly, two can play that game. 

“Gaahhh, nnnhh, y-yo’r tongue—Ghhhh!”

Gojo knows you’re putting him through this trivial hell for your enjoyment because he’ll come crawling right back to you for attention. And he will…and he’ll do it in a manner you hadn’t envisaged tenfold.

He pulled you by the legs on the living room couch, hearing you giggle as he stripped you off your leggings and underwear. It started small—kisses and light nibbles on your inner thighs, spreading your legs for access. You peer down to his snow-haired head, grinning in triumph as you finally get what you want.

However…there’s a catch.

Gojo’s tongue feverishly tongues you down, nestling the wet muscle in between the lips of your labia. His saliva and your come blend with the swishes of his tongue and is then sucked into his mouth. Your body quakes from the commotion of your boyfriend eating you out so ceaselessly, his nose bumping into the hood of your clitoris.

“Fuuuck, baby, you taste too good!”

 “‘Toru, stop iiit, it’s too muuuch!” You shake your head that’s pounding relentlessly. “I came three times already!”

“Ehhh, but this is what you wanted, right?” He loves the way you shudder as he licks and flicks your clit. “Wanted me to treat you like a princess, huh?”

You writhe as he blows and spits on your messy cunt, yet the hands on the back of your knees keep you aground to the couch. “Nnnmph, n–not like thisss, one was enough—I’m gonna break…!” You nearly choke on your drool as Gojo sucks on your clit roughly. “D-Don’t…! Fuuuhuhuuck…!!”

The white-headed man lifts his face to look at you, watching your expressions and wailing cries as he stuffs his fingers to please you. “Awww, what’s wrong, sweetie?” The blunt of his fingertips scraping your texture has you moaning aloud. “Think you’ll cum again?” 

You babble and nod so frantically; God, you were too adorable for him.

“Mmmm, I don’t know,” the sing-song tune meant to patronize as Gojo’s fingers go faster. “I’m still kinda hurt you avoided five of my kisses today,” he returns his face to your chasm. “But if you can cum for me five times, all is forgiven, princess~.”

“Bu–But I can’t…!” Teeth find your bottom lip to chew once he stuffs his mouth back onto you, latching his lips to slurp more of your fluids with a firm hold on your knees. “I’ll breaaaak…!”

“That’s exactly what I want!”

── ✿ Getō Suguru ⋮ shibari; rope bondage (boxtie) - fingering (f! receiving) - sex toy; clit vibrator - finger sucking - clitoral play - overstimulation - pet names (baby, pumpkin, sweetie).

Do you really think a man who raised two girls on his own doesn’t know how to handle a minx like you?

“Hahhhh, ohmyG—Mmmph! Suguru, pleaseee—“

“Shhh, quiet, baby. Or they might hear you.”

Let’s be honest with ourselves—if anything, he likes it when you try him like this.

If Gojo was overgrown child #1, then Geto is second in proclaiming that title. However, unlike Gojo, he’s not going to come to your level and try to one-up you in your game—no, no, no; that’s not his style of play. Instead, Geto aims to bring you down from your high horse and humble you.

You experience it firsthand after trying to badmouth him earlier, calling him some stupid nicknames that aren’t appropriate for his cult members to hear, doing or going places you were told not to, or whining at him for attending to his activities rather than spending time with you as he promised. You are supposed to be his top priority, and, to your dismay, you are not being top prioritized now. Hmph! 

Of course, Geto is witness to your little tantrum, letting your childish nature reign supreme until he has the availability to deal with you. And when he does deals with you—

“Ughhh!! Fffshiiit, d-don’t doo that!!”

He deals with you.

Now you’re in his quarters, stripped from your flared mini-skirt and your hands tied behind your back with shibari rope. Your back to his chest, vulnerable to him as he gropes your chest with one hand, the other in between your spread legs, fingers playing with your leaking cunt. Fingertips rub on surfaces you can’t reach, and you can’t help but release your cries.

He chuckles as you writhe from the rough tweeze of your nipple. “You’re such a handful, you know that?” His hand leaves your shirt to toy with the blindfold that shields your eyes. “Just can’t behave and make things easier for me, can you?” 

“Mmmm—ohhshiiit,” you throw your head after a curl to your upper vaginal wall. “…J-Just because you tell me to do something, doesn’t mean I’ll—ohhh!—do it…!”

“And you wonder why you’re in this predicament.” Geto then grabs the small remote sitting idly by his side, presses a button, and the moan you let out grows predictably louder. “Woah, that’s a nice sound!”

The vibrator that’s held by your panties stimulates the sensitivity of your clitoris, having you gasp and wail from the intensity and your legs wanting to close. This is impossible as Geto’s ankles keep your feet apart; your feeble attempts to squirm out of his proximity only farce him. “Don’t try and run now, sweetie. Gotta stay still to correct your behavior.”

“—Nnnaaa, ahaha, correct me?” You titter in pants, moving your face to peer at your lover with innocent doe eyes. “You wouldn’t punish…me, your sweet babygirl, right?” 

The narrowness of his violent eyes, paired with the broad smirk, has you clamping onto his digits like crazy. Geto sighs as he removes his hand from your aching slit, your fluids coating his slender fingers before she shoves them inside your mouth. “Look at you trying to act sweet now,” you lather his fingers with your tongue, sucking on them and tasting your excess come. “We haven’t even gotten to the real punishment yet, but you’re already crying.”

Your hips sway voluntarily, your ass purposely grinding on his groin. “D-Do it, then! I’m not scared—Daaah!!” Geto removes his hand from your lips to travel back down, pressing on your panties to have the vibrating clit toy overwhelm your senses.

“Heh, bet you can’t even last five minutes in, pumpkin.” He grinds the vibrator on your clit more.

“Nnmph! Make that ten!”

He scoffs. “We’ll see.”

── ✿ Ryōmen Sukuna ⋮ size difference (true form! kuna) - double penetration; anal and vaginal - eagle position - degradation - clitoral play (pinching) - impact play; pussy slaps - choking - unprotected sex - pet names (little toy, pet) - mention of pain and tears.

“—Haahhh, fuuuck—Aaaaht!”

“Shut the fuck up, little shit. You even scream like a fuck toy.”

Oh, to be a brat to the King of Curses. Indeed, you have a death wish.

Not only is Sukuna the powerful curse user of Jujutsu history, but he is also the most selfish, egotistical, and vilest man ever to walk on this Earth. People and curses around him know better than to challenge his standing, knowing that they’d end up in minced pieces or beheaded in their first step. It is that fearful respect that Sukuna feeds on, besides cutting down on those who absurdly test him.

And you, his little consort, tested him the worst of all.

One thing that Sukuna fancies about you is your independence; it’s the thing that had him curious about you in the first place—it beats someone clinging onto him and seeking comfort in his personal space. The problem, however, is how that said independence has its faults. For his life, no one in this rotating globe has found joy in pushing the giant cursed man’s buttons other than you. In his philosophy, when Sukuna commands–never asks–to do something, nothing is expected outside of doing simply that. 

He does not expect the “Nah, don’t wanna”s, the “I’m busy, ask someone else,” or worse: “Ever heard of please, big buy? Oh! Better yet, how about begging me to do it~?”

Infuriating is the best word to describe having to deal with you. Your only saving grace is that he treasures and finds use in your presence; if not, your blood would be seeping down to the bedrock.

…However, that doesn’t mean he won’t pin you down and teach you a lesson if necessary. After all, he eats people for less.

So here you were, back on the futon while your legs were propped up by Sukuna’s upper arms, all of your clothes scattered around the tatami flooring surrounding the room, and sweat decorating your hot skin. 

Your hands find purchase on his massive thighs as he bullies one of his fat cocks into your asshole; the sheer girth of him is enough for your eyes to run for the ceiling. “Daaahh, hooohshit, i’m ‘o fuuull…!”

“Hmph,” the four-eyed man scoffs at your comment, watching your expression contort to pitiful euphoria. “Fucking pet, the only thing you can think about is dick.” He slams his hips, roughly smacking your ass and scraping the walls of your rear channel with the tip of his cock. “Too stubborn to even follow what I tell you to do.”

The mouth of his stomach licks your tummy. “Mmmm, w-who pulled your pants up a notch?” You dare flash a smile at him during this, yet it withers away when the forefinger and thumb of his lower left hand find your clitoris and give it a pinch.

“Still got enough spark to talk back, huh?” The digits roughly squeeze your sensitive bud and only have you screaming louder and your anus puckering on his length tighter. “Hnngh...Just doing things I tell you when you want to,” another snap of his hips causes a howl, along with another nip to your clit. “But when it comes to this, you’re a real submissive tool, hmm?... Oi, I’m talking to you.” 

Sukuna slaps your cunt—and he slaps it hard—the impact has your eyes shot wide and cry out from the pain flourishing. “Nnnfff! F-Fuck…I only listen to you when it benefits me!”

“You never listen to me.”

You giggle wickedly with tearful eyes. “That’s the point.”

Maroon orbs narrow with the growth of an evil grin. “Fucking whore,” you earned yourself another smack of the palm on your chasm. 

“—Ffffuuhuuck!!” Your head is thrown back to the sole pillow you lay on, your small frame overshadowed by his gigantic size. “I’m so clooose…gonna cuuum…”

Another slap. “What makes you think I’d let you cum?”

Your face returns to look at him with a bitten lip, eyes fierce yet playful. “Because I fucking said I so!” Oh, fuck did that reply tickle something in Sukuna, a guttural chuckle sneaking up on him. 

He switches his upper right arm with the lower right to grab your neck. Your tiny fingers come to his wrist as the crook of his thumb is enough to add weight to your windpipe, yet your hazy smile refuses to leave your face. “Your say so means nothing to me. You will cum when I say so, little toy. Is that clear?” 

Your resilience is still present in your eyes, but you’re smart enough to know you should comply. You nod slowly, and the grip on your throat loosens a bit. Sukuna then silently moves his lower left hand to guide the top of his dual cock, kissing your aching folds. The hand on your throat grabs for your cheeks to keep your face on him—he likes to watch what happens once he inserts inside you. Your eyes roll with tears striking down, your mouth goes agape to the push of his cockhead, and the silent shriek at the addition of his second cock nestling within you all has him snicker malevolently.

“Pathetic.”

── ✿ Fushiguro Tōji ⋮ manhandling - restricted movement - oral (m! receiving) - Daddy kink - backshots/leapfrog position - impact play; spanking - unprotected sex - pet names (baby, babygirl, mama) - cervix-fucking - creampies - mention of pain and spit/drool.

“Ohhh! Ohh! D-Daddy, it huuurts—Shaaaah!!”

“Gonna keep hurtin’ more if you don’t quit squirmin’ like that.”

Toji is one motherfucker who knows how to deal with brats; like Sukuna, he gets a kick out of it. So, someone like you who likes to cross a line with him? He’s just waiting for you to give him the chance.

That chance came today when you really wanted to try him. You always had a big mouth on you—something that humored the older man more frequently than not. Walking up and down saying shit that tries to tick him off because, he knows, that’s what you want: to get a rise out of him. And sometimes he’d brush it off, not buying into your bullshit or saying, “Don’t talk big unless y’re tryin’ to learn.” 

Nevertheless, there are times when that big mouth of yours felt like you did want to learn. You opened your mouth earlier, telling how you’d take whatever hell he’d give you without problem. The first sign was a single eyebrow raised as he sipped his coffee, yet you still pushed on, giving him the rundown on how you were ready. He scoffed and retorted. “No, y’re not.” His nonchalant tone sparked you to keep pressing him on, only for him to send a tiny glare. “I’m tellin’ you; y’re not ready.”

But you never knew when to quit, giving your signature smug grin as you walked towards him. “Why, too scared? Don’t think I can handle you?” He says nothing, letting you dig your own grave. “Guess I should find a real man who isn’t afraid to prove me wrong.”

It wouldn’t be befitting as your partner for him not to take the bait. If there’s one thing Toji loves to do, it’s screwing that humble lesson into your thick skull…with the help of his cock. 

Toji smacks your bare ass harshly, erupting a sharp cry from your drooling lips. “C’mon, baby, what happened to that bigass ego of y’rs?”

So…fucking big! It was borderline embarrassing–pathetically so–to act like this. You were going through the absolute most you swore you could handle. Now, you’re stuffing your face into the pillow, your arms pulled to your back and caught by your wrists by a firm hand, ass propped up for Toji to roughly play and plow with.

His girth was surreal; the stretch was beyond words to describe and overwhelming to experience. You mouth seeping incoherent words that can’t be pieced together. Toes curl as the girthy limb in your chasm stretches you out like crazy. And your eyes water from yet another slap on your ass, Toji’s fingernails pinching the skin. “Ghh—ahhaaa, shtoop iiiit!”

“Shtooop iiiit,” he mocks with a dark snicker. “Stop what? Y’re the one who wanted this, right?” He pistons hard, and the raunchy sound of skin smacking onto skin fills the room. The white come that slides out with every push decorated his dick with a white, soapy ring. “Wanted to be filled to the brim and smack around like a bitch in heat, huh, babygirl?”

“Daddyyyy,” you wail, spit rolling out your puffy lips. “T’oo muuuch! I-I can’t take it…!”

“Oh no, we’re way past tapping out now, mama.” Toji’s hips go erratic, and the hold on your wrists grows tighter. “Told you, don’t talk big game if y’re just gonna cry and act like a baby.”

Fuuuck, I can’t!! The hot pain stings your asscheeks, getting worse with every snap of his pelvis. Toji was too much, stretching your velvety walls so badly yet ecstatically good, bringing your face up with just his fingers pulling your mouth and jackhammering his girth so deep inside you. You hiccup to every graze of your G-spot, sounding so dumb with how you’re squealing.

“OhhhhJesus, Daddy, please, I’m sorry,” you plead; that’s all you could do while being fucked out of your mind like a toy. More spanks to your butt threaten more tears to fall off your face. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry!!“

“Hmmph, if y’re so sorry, why ya clenchin’ me so tight, huh?” His hand releases your wrists, adding more of his weight on you by pinning you down by the shoulders. The move creates more babbles to escape your mouth and your brain to go mush. “Y’re not sorry f’r shit!”

And to tell the truth, Toji was right. He’s so good at making your body feel good that this had you at an all-time high, your gummy walls contracting around him as you grip the satin sheets in euphoria. Shivers crawl through your frame as he pokes your womb with accuracy, words sputtering in an obscure fashion.

“Hoooohshiiit, fuuck, I-I’m, I’mmm…!!” There’s no room for you to warn him; he doesn’t give you that chance. He pushes your face to the pillow as he keeps pounding you until he reaches climax, spilling his semen into you for the third time that night. But he doesn’t stop until you get off your high, jabbing your cervix so that it has your head battering like a storm. Finally, you let loose and succumb to your orgasm, your vagina clamping onto him as you experience the most Earth-shattering shocks of your life. 

Toji hisses with a deep sigh, finally allowing his waist to rest and slowly removing his length out of your quaking figure. But he doesn’t permit you the 

same courtesy, grabbing you by the scruff of your neck to slap his dick on your cheek. “Suck it clean.”

Your visage, in a complete haze, come slides out of your cunt and messes up the sheets beneath you. Yet, you titter with an aimless smile and take in his cock with a hum. 

“That’s it, mama, atta girl.”

© HOSHIGRAY2024 ✮ reblogs and comments are appreciated wholeheartedly ⊹ header art by hyocorou + dividers by @cafekitsune.

[neeeooon]

Hellooo! It's my first time ever asking a request like this 😅 Could you write headcannons for blue lock boys, how they would react to when "bridesmaids giving the groom sexy Polaroids of the bride throughout the night" like the trend in tiktok!! I'm curious about Barou, reo, rin, and yukimiya 👀 but you are welcome to add others as well!! Hehehe thanks!!

YES i’m sorry for the wait I HOPE YOU ENJOY 🤍

when your bridesmaids give them sexy polaroids

husband bllk x fem!reader. suggestive

barou shouei

-> he’s breaking a sweat after photo two and loosening his tie by photo three

-> protects those half-naked photos of you like it’s his only duty on this earth. will bite anyone’s hand off if they so much as breathe in his direction when he receives another polaroid of you

-> when you waltz over to your new husband, wrapping yourself around him in newlywed glee, it takes more restraint than he’s used to to keep his hands from wandering. especially in front of your friends and family

-> “you know exactly what you’re doing to me with these little photos, don’t you?” you give him an innocent look and kiss the lobe of his ear. “i have no idea what you’re talking about.. ;)”

mikage reo

-> eyes threaten to pop out of his head when your bridesmaid subtly slides a polaroid in front of him. a polaroid of you in a very inappropriate manner

-> when he catches your eye and sees you wink, he knows he’s in for a treat

-> has half a mind to call the reception off early so he can have you all to himself, but this is your wedding night, and he wants it to be perfect for you

-> turns out, he’s not the only one thinking this way. when you appear at his side, dragging him to the parking lot like teenagers sneaking out, you tell him that you asked your bridesmaids to stall for the remainder of the party before locking the car doors and hopping into his lap

itoshi rin

-> you’re acting nonchalant, trying to feign innocence about the explicit photos you and your bridesmaids took for your husband, but he misunderstands your innocence as ignorance

-> gently pulls you aside after receiving the first photo. “y/n, i know you love your friends, but…” and he gives you the photo. “i don’t want vulnerable photos of you being spread around on our wedding day.”

-> you find his concern adorable and decorate his cheeks with lipstick-covered kisses. “aw, honey! it was a surprise gift for you, no one else has seen them.”

-> he flushes bright pink at that. “oh.” “thank you for protecting me, though.” “um, you’re welcome.”

yukimiya kenyu

-> it’s a slow descend into madness for gentlemanly yukimiya

-> literally chokes on his champagne when he receives the first polaroid from your bridesmaid. she hands it over so coyly, like she doesn’t know she’s holding his demise in her hands

-> he’s all tight smiles throughout the night. cannot keep his eyes to himself, and thankfully people think it’s only because he’s admiring his new wife. while that’s mostly true, he’s mentally mapping out the shape of you beneath that dress

-> “ken?” “hm? yeah?” you give his thigh a gentle squeeze beneath the table and lean close so that your lips are near his ear. “you’re staring.” “sorry, darling. it’s hard not to with those images of you printed in my brain.”

[sobbingscripter]

Tags: [mlw][mdni][aged up][attempted breakup][fingering][no penetration][squirting][female orgasm][established relationship][semi public][tester][to that anon who said they feel like a widow, i hope you enjoy it][finger sucking][implied face fuck][pussy sucking][oral (f! receiving)]

"I wanna break up."

"No you don't."

Rex dismisses you easily, hands readjusting the grip on the weight he holds just above his chest, continuing to lift and lower.

Maybe you should've picked a better time.

Like a time when you're not forced to watch sweat trickle down the delves of his carved muscles, when he's not grunting quiet numbers out and when his bun is perfctly tight, instead of being as lazy as it is now. But you're already here and you shift your weight from foot to foot, gaze lowered to where your sneakers scuff at the foam padded floor.

"Yes I do." You interject, taking another step closer and you watch as Rex's brows crease into a frown, before he carefully sets the weights back into place, and you catch a glance towards the bar.

Holy fuck, its your bodyweight on each side.

Rex sits up, elbows braced on his knees and the muscles of his thighs stretch and bunch beneath his shorts, and he leans forward, slumped. Gingery strands fall over his brows, and he doesn't bother to push the hair back, simply staring at you from beneath furrowed brows.

"Why?" Rex questions. "I didn't cheat this time."

"The fact that you feel the need to add 'this time', is incredibly alarming. And secondly, cheating isn't the only thing that leads to relationships ending." You state and you take steps towards Rex, before planting yourself on the spot next to him, your hand moving to rest on his knee, manicured nails tracing along one of the scars there, feeling the smooth, pink scar tissue beneath the pad of your finger.

"Well, I wouldn't know." Rex shrugs. "All of my relationships end because I cheated which, by the way, I'm not doing."

"This one isn't ending because you cheat—" "Because this one isn't ending."

Rex interrupts you unapologetically, dipping his head just enough to press a lingering kiss on your cheek, before resting back on the bench, muscular hands wrapping around the gripping spots of the bar. And he lowers it back down to his chest, and you get to watch the muscles ripple beneath his tawny skin.

"Rex—"

"Babe." His voice is stern, watching you from the corner of his narrowing eyes. "I didn't cheat, I didn't forget your birthday because it's on my homescreen and I'm not—"

Rex takes a breath, emerald pools fluttering shut and his nostrils flare just a moment as he tries to centre himself.

"Why do you wanna break up?" Rex questions, his voice even.

"I just...—" You purse your lips. "—I don't think you're serious about us, which is fine, per say but—"

"You're full of shit." Rex interrupts, letting out a heavy breath before setting the weight back. "How the fuck am I not serious?"

And you run your tongue along the top row of your teeth, before looking towards Rex. His eyes are just a bit darker, olive tones hidden beneath the iris in shades of annoyance. And you let out a heavy breath.

"Lower your tone."

"Yes, ma'am."

You watch the way his lips quirk, full lips curving into a grin that has his tongue resting at his canine, eyes glancing over you so... Inappropriately.

"We're breaking up, don't be weird." You huff, arms folding across your chest and Rex hums so sweetly, tossing a muscular and heavy arm over your shoulders, the scent of musky sweat and cologne fills your nose.

"We're not breaking up." Rex stares at you, head tilting and a playful smile playing on his lips, dimples deepening in his cheeks.

"I'm gonna let you talk about your feelings, and I'm gonna respect your feelings. And I'm gonna take your constructive criticism to heart, before I make you feel better." Rex lists out his words very sweetly, sweaty fingers readjusting the pretty pendant around your neck, readjusting to hide the clasp at the nape of your neck, the pendant just above the valley of your breasts.

And you let out a scoff.

"That's not what's gonna happen."

🦋𓈒⋆⑅˚₊୨🏵️୧₊˚⑅⋆𓈒🦋

That's exactly what happened.

Rex keeps your thighs spread obscenely wide, full lips wrapped around your clit and giving your gentle little sucks, juniper pools locked on the way your face screws up. Brows knitting and lips parting into that pretty and pouty 'o' shape.

Slick trickles down his chin, soaking the neckline of his snowy compression shirt, thumbs tracing circles into the supple flesh of your inner thighs.

He spreads your folds delicately, broad tongue gathering the sweet slick before he spits it back at your clit, the swollen nub peeking out between velvety curtains and Rex groans softly.

"S'fuckin' wet, baby." Rex croons, brows pinching into a delighted frown as he drags his tongue through all the crevices he finds, lapping at your cunt with needy abandon.

"Tell me about your feelings." He whispers softly. "...m'payin' attention."

"I feel... ah-uhm... I feel —so good—.." Your toes curl, your nails digging into the bench beneath you, the leathes creeking beneath you as slick makes the fabric so shiny.

And Rex groans.

"Mhm, tell me more."

He goads you, one forearm tucked in the crook behind your knees, keeping your thighs pushed to your chest as his free hand palms and paws at your fleshy thighs.

And thick fingers push into your gooey cunt, and you let out a high pitched sound.

"You gonna come?" Rex coos, eyes locked on your glossy cunt, puffy lips wrapped around his pumping fingers, calloused pads pressing against that spongy spot that makes your head tipped back, stars dotting the backs of your eyelids and your toes curl and flex.

Rex can feel the spasm of you around his fingers, the squelchy sounds ring out in the quietness of the gym, only accompanied by panted breaths and your whimpers.

"Uh—...mmmf ..— uh huh." You whine meekly and Rex coos.

He feels your walls flutter, cunt leaking copious amounts of slick, pooling below you.

And he begins to fuck his fingers into you with abandon.

And your mind melts with how his fingers poke, prod and pound into that sensitive patch of nerves and you're coming around his fingers.

And you're not stopping.

"Tell me what I wanna hear, princess, tell me, baby." Rex huffs, moving to sit right behind your head, guiding your head to rest against his crotch, thickly corded thighs one either side of your head. Muscles flexing and his hard, leaking cock pressing against the elegant slope of your neck.

The heel of his palm grinds against your oversensitive clit, ringed pointer and pinky pointed downwards and two fingers fuck you with abandon. The squelch is lewd and the sound of your blood rushing fills your ears.

"I— fuck, Rex— I- 'm full of shit. 'm so full of it." You whine, nails digging and leaving scratches along the carved muscle of his thighs.

"I'm full of shit and-and-and—!"

Your toes curl when that wire in your belly snaps, Rex's hand moves to cover your mouth, stifling the scream that rips from your throat, a surge of slick soaking his palm.

And your body goes limp.

And Rex's hand rubs over your cunt, spreading the glossy sheen acoss your flushed and puffy lips.

"You still wanna break up?"

"....no."

Your voice is meek, lashes fluttering and eyes teary as Rex trails his fingers along your pulsing slit, before pushing three fingers into you. Your belly dips inward and your brain turns to mush when he starts dragging his fingers along your walls in deep, slow strokes. And you feel the way his hand pulls away, lipgloss spread on his palm and he pushes two fingers into your mouth, watching the way your lips wrap around his fingers.

Your sounds are muffled, panted breaths leaving your nose and your eyes begin to tear as you look up at him through your lashes, pupils blown wide and cunt quivering.

"You gonna say you're sorry for hurting my feelings?" Rex speaks so softly, thumb brushing along the softness of your cheek and you nod your head, feeling as he shifts off the edge, gently tugging you towards the edge.

He guides you until your head's upside down, your head hanging off the edge.

"Don't be a fucking asshole and use your teeth like last time."

Taglist:

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@anesthesia-4rizzle 🎀

@feral010 ✨

@blckbarbiedoll 🌷

@allycat4458 🪻

@custardpuddingprincess ⭐

@couldeatthatgirlforlunch 🦄

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@Calicocat-ina-tuxedo 🐱

@maliagurl 🐛

@munji-tunji 🦐

@ruu-bluu 💎

[illou-sainte]

Jealous? Nah.

pairings: colonel!caleb x nurse!reader

cw: unprotected sex, overstimulation, crying, missionary, jealous!caleb, possession, cosplay, inappropriate use of medical equipment, dom!caleb, rough and nasty sex

You knew damn well how bad Caleb's jealousy was. How and why? It's just that even with a simple glimpse and look into his eyes, you can see the way his pupils dilate whenever you attend to and do check-ups on the workers of the fleet.

It's cute, they say---but it's Caleb. Caleb and jealousy in the same sentence is bad. Really bad.

He knows you're only doing your job as a nurse---but his jealousy is something he couldn't handle. He hates the way those scum colonels and officers look at you with eyes filled with lust and hunger while you're doing your job.

He couldn't shake the thoughts of letting other men touch you and hear your sweet voice, which is exclusively for him. He knows how to handle it sometimes---but there was a certain time when he couldn't.

It was just one regular working day when you tended and did check-ups on the officers' appointments. The officer was surprised to see the Colonel in the same room as them with the nurse. But they didn't dare bring it up---who knows what would've happened if they did?

What hit Caleb's last nerve was when you did a check-up on the officer, placing the chest piece against his chest as you moved it around, trying to find the heartbeat.

"It seems like your beating is unsteady than usual, Sir" You said to him, focused on hearing his heartbeat, while Caleb, on the other hand, was fuming with jealousy. He glared at the officer, who was shamelessly staring at you face-to-face, a smug look on his face. His fists clenched tightly over his lap as he struggled to remain calm at the scene unfolding before him.

As you continued monitoring the heartbeat, you were startled when the officer placed a hand over yours that was holding the piece against his chest and held it.

"Really, Miss? It's probably because of you" He flirted, lips forming a sly smirk---making your eyes widened as you were quick to back away from him. The officer lets out a low chuckle as he shook his head in amusement seeing you jerk your body away.

You sweatdrop and you moved your head where Caleb is sitting at, arm over the desk as he rests his cheek against the palm of his hand---a visible vein on his forehead and....smiling? Oh.

Oh. you're in trouble, big trouble.

Your moans and whines filled the infirmary while Caleb was fucking you balls deep over the hospital bed. His hand reached for his hat and placed it over your head---tilting to the side because of how fast his hips is moving against yours. The buttons of your uniform taken out earlier when he ripped it in one go. Your plushed tits covered with his saliva as it bounces every thrust he gaves your poor aching pussy.

You were in full haziness---intoxicated on how good his fat cock is filling you up to the brim. Tears stream drown your face as he fucks you in missionary---legs wrapped around his waist while he pounds into you relentlessly.

"C-Caleb! Too much--!!!" You cried out, gripping his arms as you try to push him away---but due to his physic you couldn't. He lets out a shaky chuckle and grips your thighs tightly making you squirm in response.

"Hah- w-what...am I not one of your patients that you give your so called special treatment?" He asked, voice low and husky as his eyes focused on your fucked up flustered face. You whined as you shook your head in response. Encouraged by your moans, he increases the force of his thrusts, the headboard of the bed banging against the wall with each thrust.

Oh god, you'd just wished that no one in the fleet was walking in front of the infirmary. Otherwise, you will never know what will happen to your job if someone caught you two. He groans deeply, the thought of getting caught adding to his arousal.

"Tell me..." The Colonel's eyes darken with primal lust, and he begins to fuck you with wild abandon. His hips slamming continuously, driving his cock deep into your throbbing pussy with each thrust. The sound of skin slapping against skin echoes through the room, mixed with your moans and his grunts.

"Ngh- cat got...your tongue...huh?" He muttered, smirk forming his lips. And you can only respond with your soft cries while he fucks you good. His pace quickens, his fat cock slamming into your pussy over and over, the wet sounds of your fucking echoing.

"F-fuck, you're so hot..."

Feeling the stickiness of your sweat and his mixed over your hot bodies---Caleb can't help but adore your fucked up face. It's a proof that with a whip of his fat cock inside your pussy can make your mind circuit. A crying and blabbering mess you are, it's cute he says in his mind. He smirked, amused by your overwhelmed expression as he fills your tight pussy completely.

"...shit... can't even stand a single minute of seeing you in a room with other officers.." His hands roam over your curves possessively as he nuzzles between your tits, his hot breath warming your skin. He can feel how tightly you're wrapped around him, his fat cock stretching your tiny hole. You can't even count how many times he made you cum already---the wetness of the covers under you, proves many times.

The scene that happened earlier keeps on playing inside Caleb's mind over and over again. It irritates him. But for you, you can't help but feel so aroused seeing him so rough and possessive he is with you. Making your throbbing pussy tightened around his fat cock inside of you---earning a soft grunt from him.

You watch his hand reached for the stethoscope that is hanging over your neck and grabbed it. His hand gripping your waist tightly while the other one brings the stethoscope to him, putting the ear piece to both of his ears as the stethoscope hangs. He then grabs the chest piece and brings it to your plushed tits---moving it around, using the saliva as a lubricant to make it slippery to move with, making you squirm in response at the coldness of the metal.

He lets out a chuckle as he moved the piece around your tits and keeps on hitting your perked nipples---making you whimper when he rubs circles around it with the piece.

"I'll be your nurse then.." He said, continuing to slam his fat cock inside your puffy pussy while he keeps on moving the piece around your chest---finding your heartbeat and to tease you.

You let out soft grunts because you were sure he's definitely pushing your buttons and abusing his control over you. Once he finally detected your beatings---he lets out a sly smirk and stopped moving the piece. Leaning close to you and pressing his body against your plushed tits as his hot breath hits your skin making you bit your lip.

"Oops, it seems like your beating is unsteady, Miss" He mimicked your words earlier, making your eyes widened.

"It's probably because of me, right?"

A dick for a day keeps the nurse away!

masterlist

[pucksandpower]

To Build a Home

Max Verstappen x wife!Reader x Charles Leclerc

Summary: after you and your husbands are left heartbroken by news that seemingly put an end to your dreams of a family, the three of you are drawn to two young orphaned siblings who need you as much as you need them

Warnings: struggles with infertility

Based on this request

The fertility specialist’s office smells sterile, like antiseptic and plastic. You’ve been staring at the same drab poster of the reproductive system for what feels like hours. A part of you wonders if it's designed to be boring, as if anything too colorful would be inappropriate in a place like this.

Max sits beside you, one hand on your knee, thumb absentmindedly tracing small circles through the fabric of your jeans. Charles is on your other side, leaning forward, elbows resting on his thighs, his fingers interlaced so tightly they’re almost white.

The doctor walks in, clipboard in hand, a practiced neutral expression on his face. You try to read him, but there’s nothing to read. He’s done this a thousand times.

“Thank you for your patience,” he says, sitting across from you. He glances at the three of you, clearly used to couples but perhaps not quite this combination. He doesn’t falter, though. “I have the results of your tests.”

You hold your breath. Max’s hand tightens on your knee. Charles doesn’t move.

The doctor takes a moment, flipping a page on the clipboard. “We’ve reviewed all of the tests extensively. There is no male factor infertility present. Both of you” — he nods toward Max and Charles — “have excellent sperm count and motility. No concerns there.”

Your heart beats so loudly you wonder if the others can hear it.

He looks at you. It feels like an eternity passes before he speaks again. “For you, we found a condition called primary ovarian insufficiency. It means that your ovaries are no longer functioning normally before the age of 40. In your case, this means lower egg production, and unfortunately, a significantly decreased chance of natural conception.”

You feel like you’ve been punched in the stomach. Max’s hand turns ice-cold against your skin. Charles shifts beside you, inhaling a sharp breath that cuts through the sterile silence of the room.

“So … what does that mean?” You ask, and your voice sounds so small you barely recognize it.

“It means,” the doctor says gently, “that it’s very unlikely you’ll be able to conceive naturally. There are treatments that might help, but with this diagnosis, the odds are lower than average.”

“Lower than average,” Charles repeats, voice tight, almost robotic. He’s staring at the floor. You know that look — it’s the look he gets when he’s trying not to fall apart.

Max clears his throat. “What are the options?” He’s speaking through clenched teeth, and it’s impossible to tell if it’s anger or fear or both. Maybe both.

“IVF is one option,” the doctor says, unperturbed. “But with primary ovarian insufficiency, egg quality and quantity are concerns. You might consider using donor eggs or exploring surrogacy or adoption.”

Donor eggs. Surrogacy. Adoption. Each word feels like another blow, another layer of guilt and inadequacy. Your throat tightens, and tears prick your eyes. You try to swallow them back, but one escapes, sliding down your cheek.

“I’m so sorry,” the doctor says, and it’s genuine, but it doesn’t help. “I’ll give you some time.”

He stands and exits the room, leaving the three of you in a suffocating silence. You don’t move. You can’t. Your hands are trembling in your lap.

“It’s my fault,” you whisper. It’s barely a sound, but they hear it. Of course they hear it.

Max turns to you immediately. “No. No, don’t say that.”

“It is.” You turn to look at him, tears blurring your vision. “You and Charles … you’re fine. You’re perfect. It’s me. I’m broken.”

“You’re not broken,” Charles says, voice cracking. He’s leaning toward you now, eyes desperate. “Don’t say that about yourself.”

“But it’s true.” You pull away, needing the distance. “I’m the reason we can’t have kids. The big family you both wanted … it’s because of me.”

“Hey.” Max’s hand moves to cup your cheek, turning your face to meet his. His blue eyes are so intense, so full of pain and love it almost shatters you. “We will have a big family. It might not be the way we planned, but we’ll get there.”

You shake your head. “But it won’t be the same. It won’t be-”

“It doesn’t matter how we get there,” Charles interrupts, his voice firmer now. “You think it makes a difference to me if our children come from your body or someone else’s? They’ll still be ours. They’ll still be loved. You’ll still be their mother.”

You look down, unable to hold his gaze. “It’s not fair to you two. You deserve someone who can-”

“Stop.” Max’s voice is low, dangerous in a way that makes you pause. “Don’t ever say that again. We love you. We chose you. We would choose you again in every lifetime.”

Tears are streaming down your face now. You can’t stop them. Charles takes your hand, threading his fingers through yours. His grip is tight, unbreakable. “We didn’t marry you just to have kids,” he says quietly. “We married you because we love you. This doesn’t change that.”

“But it changes everything,” you insist, frustration and heartbreak mingling into a mess you can’t untangle.

“No, it doesn’t,” Max says, leaning forward until his forehead touches yours. “It just means we have to find a different way. And we will. We’ll figure it out.”

You close your eyes, letting his words wash over you. “I’m scared.”

“We are too,” Charles admits, his thumb gently brushing over your knuckles. “But we’ll face it. Together. Like Max said.”

Silence settles in again, but this time it’s different. Less suffocating. More like a fragile, tentative peace. Max wipes a tear from your cheek with his thumb, and Charles leans in to press a soft kiss against your temple.

You exhale shakily. “I’m sorry.”

“Stop apologizing,” Max says, and there’s a small, almost broken smile on his lips. “We’ve got this. We’ve got you.”

Charles nods, and his eyes are filled with so much hope it’s almost unbearable. “No matter what, we’ll have our family. One way or another.”

You nod, not because you believe it yet, but because they do. And maybe that’s enough, at least for now.

***

The orphanage is a charming old building tucked into one of Monaco’s quieter streets, its stone façade softened by ivy and strings of twinkling Christmas lights. The sound of children’s laughter spills out onto the sidewalk, where a handful of staff is arranging a small Christmas display. It smells like pine needles and freshly baked cookies, and you think it’s the kind of place that tries its hardest to be warm, even when life isn’t.

You tug your scarf tighter against the chill, glancing at Max and Charles. Max is holding a large bag of wrapped presents, the bright paper peeking out through the opening. Charles, as always, has a warm smile ready for anyone who passes by.

“I think this is going to be fun,” Charles says, glancing at you. “I mean, how often do kids get to meet Santa and two F1 drivers in the same day?”

“Santa’s still the headliner here,” you tease.

Max smirks. “I don’t know. I’ve seen Charles in a Santa hat. It’s a close call.”

Charles rolls his eyes, but there’s no hiding his amusement. He looks down at the bag of presents you’re carrying. “You ready?”

“As ready as I’ll ever be.”

The three of you step inside, greeted almost immediately by the matron, a kind-faced woman named Madame Ricard. She clasps her hands together in delight when she sees the three of you, her warm energy a perfect match for the festive setting.

“Oh, this is such a treat for the children,” she says, her French accent thick but easy to understand. “They’ve been talking about it all week. Come, come, let me show you the way.”

You follow her into a large common room, where a group of children is gathered around a tree that looks like it was decorated by a dozen tiny hands. Tinsel hangs in uneven loops, and ornaments are clustered in some places and sparse in others. It’s perfect.

The kids freeze for a moment when they see you, their eyes going wide. Then, as if a switch has been flipped, they erupt into cheers and giggles.

“Charles! Max!” One of the older boys shouts, his voice cracking with excitement.

“Santa!” Another yells, pointing at the man in the red suit who follows close behind you.

Max laughs, setting down the bag of gifts. “I think they’re more excited about you, mate,” he says to Santa, who waves jovially.

You step forward, kneeling to hand out the first few presents. The kids swarm you, but it’s all happy chaos. Max and Charles are instantly surrounded, signing autographs on toy cars and posters that some of the children miraculously seem to have on hand.

As you hand out another gift, your eyes wander to a quieter corner of the room. There, separate from the laughter and commotion, are two small figures.

The older one is a boy, maybe five years old, with a mop of dark hair and a protective posture. He’s standing in front of a little girl who can’t be more than three, his arms spread slightly as if to shield her from the world. Her tiny face is buried in his shirt, her small hands clutching the fabric.

Your heart squeezes.

You tap Charles on the shoulder, nodding toward them. “Who are they?”

Charles follows your gaze, frowning. “I don’t know. I haven’t seen them move at all.”

Madame Ricard notices where you’re looking and sighs softly. “Ah, those two.” She kneels beside you, her expression full of a sadness that doesn’t belong in a place this joyful.

“They’re new,” she explains. “A brother and sister. Their parents died in a car accident a few weeks ago. They were on vacation here in Monaco when it happened.”

You feel your stomach drop. “They don’t have any other family?”

She shakes her head. “No one we’ve been able to find. And to make things more difficult, they don’t speak French, Italian, or English. It’s been hard for them to adjust.”

“They’re completely alone,” Charles murmurs, his voice barely audible.

Max steps forward, his jaw tight. “What language do they speak?”

“We’re not entirely sure,” Madame Ricard admits. “They haven’t spoken much at all. A few words here and there, but we haven’t been able to identify it.”

Max’s brow furrows, and you can see the wheels turning in his head. He glances at you and Charles before stepping closer to the children.

“Hey,” he says softly, kneeling a few feet away from the boy. His Dutch accent is more pronounced when he speaks to children, his tone gentle but firm. “I’m Max. This is Charles and …” He glances back at you. “This is our wife. We just wanted to say hi.”

The boy doesn’t respond. His eyes are wary, darting between Max and the little girl at his side.

Max tries again, switching to Dutch this time. “Kan je me verstaan?”

Still nothing.

He exhales, then tries German. “Verstehst du mich?”

The change is almost instantaneous. The boy’s eyes widen, his grip on the little girl loosening just slightly.

“You speak German?” Max asks, his tone careful but hopeful.

The boy nods, just once, but it’s enough to make Max smile.

“What’s your name?” Max continues in German.

The boy hesitates, glancing down at the girl before answering in a small voice. “Lukas.”

Max’s smile grows. “Hi, Lukas. Is this your sister?”

Lukas nods again, his small hands fidgeting with the hem of his shirt. “Her name is Leni.”

“Hi, Leni,” Max says, his voice impossibly kind. Leni peeks out from behind Lukas, her wide, tear-filled eyes meeting Max’s.

“She’s scared,” Lukas says quietly.

Max’s expression softens. “That’s okay. It’s a scary thing, isn’t it? Being somewhere new.”

Lukas nods, his lip trembling.

Max glances back at you and Charles, switching briefly to English. “They’re German. Lukas and Leni.”

Charles kneels beside him, even though he doesn’t understand the words being spoken. “Can you tell them it’s okay? That they’re safe?”

Max translates, and Lukas looks at Charles, his expression uncertain but a little less guarded.

“Does she like presents?” You ask, holding up a small, brightly wrapped box.

Max repeats the question in German, and Lukas hesitates before nodding.

You crouch down, holding the box out to Leni. “This is for you.”

Lukas whispers something to her in German, and Leni reaches out with a trembling hand to take the gift.

“Go on,” Max encourages. “You can open it.”

Leni looks up at Lukas, who nods, and then she carefully tears into the paper. When she pulls out a soft, plush bear, her eyes light up for the first time. She clutches it to her chest like it’s the most precious thing in the world.

Lukas looks up at Max, his voice barely above a whisper. “Danke.”

Max smiles. “You’re welcome.”

You exchange a glance with Charles, your chest tight with emotion. You didn’t come here to find anyone, to change anyone’s life. But looking at Lukas and Leni, it’s hard not to feel like something’s already shifting.

“They’re so small,” you whisper.

Charles nods, his voice thick. “Too small to be alone.”

Madame Ricard watches the interaction, her expression unreadable. “They’ve been through so much,” she says softly. “But I can already see a difference. You’ve made them feel seen.”

You glance back at Lukas, who’s now sitting cross-legged on the floor with Leni, showing her how to properly hug the bear. Max is still beside them, speaking softly in German, his tone soothing and patient.

Charles leans closer to you, his shoulder brushing yours. “What are you thinking?”

You swallow hard, your throat tight with emotion. “I’m thinking they shouldn’t have to spend Christmas alone.”

Charles doesn’t respond right away. Instead, he watches them, his expression as soft and full of unspoken things as you feel. “Neither should we.”

You’re not sure what he means, but you think you might know.

***

The bedroom is quiet except for the soft hum of the city outside. The three of you are wrapped in the warm cocoon of your shared bed, but it feels different tonight. There’s no teasing banter, no sleepy laughter, no idle conversation about the race calendar or holiday plans. Just silence.

You’re lying between Max and Charles, your head resting against Max’s chest, while Charles holds your hand loosely under the blanket. Normally, you’d be lulled to sleep by the rhythmic sound of Max’s breathing or Charles’ absentminded humming. But tonight, your thoughts are elsewhere.

You can’t stop thinking about Lukas and Leni.

Their little faces flash in your mind over and over again — Lukas’ wary but determined expression, the way his body shielded his sister as if he alone could protect her from the world. Leni’s wide, tear-filled eyes and how tightly she clutched that bear once she finally opened up enough to take it.

You blink against the sting of tears.

“Alright,” Max’s voice cuts through the silence. He doesn’t sound annoyed, just concerned. “What’s going on?”

“What do you mean?” You ask, though it’s half-hearted.

“You’ve been quiet all night,” Charles says, his accent softening the words. He shifts slightly, propping himself up on one elbow to look at you. “Lost in thought. We can tell.”

Max’s hand moves to your back, drawing slow, soothing circles. “Talk to us.”

You bite your lip, debating whether to say what’s been swirling in your mind since you left the orphanage. It feels big — too big to articulate. But when you look at Charles’ gentle eyes and feel the steady comfort of Max’s touch, the dam breaks.

“It’s Lukas and Leni,” you say, your voice trembling slightly.

Max stops rubbing your back, his hand stilling as he waits for you to continue.

“I can’t stop thinking about them,” you admit. “The way Lukas was protecting her … the way they’re so alone. They don’t even have anyone who can speak to them in their own language.”

Charles sits up more fully, his brow furrowing. “It’s heartbreaking,” he says quietly, and you can tell he feels it too.

You take a deep breath, trying to organize the mess of emotions inside you. “I don’t know how to explain it, but … it felt like we were meant to find them. Like they were meant to find us.”

Max’s hand moves to your hair, his fingers threading gently through the strands. “What do you mean?”

You hesitate, feeling the weight of what you’re about to say. “I keep thinking about how scared they must be. How lost. And I … I can’t stand the idea of them spending Christmas alone, in a place where no one understands them. It doesn’t feel right.”

The tears you’ve been holding back spill over, and you quickly wipe at your eyes. “I know it sounds crazy. We just met them. But I can’t shake this feeling that … I don’t know. That the five of us were meant to be together.”

Neither of them speaks for a moment, and you immediately regret saying it. “I’m sorry,” you mumble, sitting up and turning your face away. “I don’t even know what I’m saying. It’s just-”

“Hey.” Max’s voice is firm but gentle, and his hand catches yours before you can pull away completely. “Don’t apologize. You’re allowed to feel this way.”

Charles shifts closer, his hand brushing your arm. “I feel it too,” he admits, his voice barely above a whisper.

You turn to look at him, your tears blurring his face. “You do?”

He nods. “I haven’t been able to stop thinking about them either. Lukas especially. The way he looked at us … like he wanted to trust us but didn’t know if he could. I can’t get it out of my head.”

Max exhales heavily, running a hand through his hair. “And Leni,” he says, his voice tight. “She’s just a baby. They’re both so small, and they’ve already been through so much.”

You sniffle, wiping your eyes again. “What are we supposed to do? We can’t just … leave them there.”

Max and Charles share a look over your head, one of those silent conversations they’ve perfected over the years. You’ve seen it before — on race days, in press conferences, during moments of unspoken understanding between them.

Finally, Max speaks. “We’re not leaving them there.”

Your heart skips. “What do you mean?”

Charles takes your hand again, his grip firm and reassuring. “I mean that we’ll go back. First thing tomorrow morning. We’ll talk to Madame Ricard, figure out what we need to do.”

“To adopt them?” You ask, your voice small but filled with hope.

“If that’s what it takes, yes,” Max says without hesitation.

You feel your breath catch, the weight of their words settling over you. “Are you sure?”

“We’re sure,” Charles says. “It’s like you said — it feels right. It feels like they’re meant to be with us.”

Max nods, his expression serious. “We’ve already been talking about starting a family. This … this might be how it’s supposed to happen.”

Your tears start again, but this time they’re different. Lighter. Full of something you haven’t felt in a long time — hope.

“I love you both so much,” you whisper, your voice breaking.

Charles pulls you into a tight hug, his arms wrapping around you completely. “We love you too,” he says, his voice muffled against your hair.

Max leans in, pressing a kiss to your temple. “We’re going to do this.”

For the first time all night, the silence in the room feels peaceful. The three of you stay like that for a long time, wrapped up in each other, until sleep finally comes.

And when it does, it’s with the quiet certainty that tomorrow will bring something new — something life-changing.

***

The drive to the orphanage feels longer than it did yesterday, even though the streets of Monaco are quiet in the early morning. Max’s hands grip the steering wheel tighter than usual, his knuckles pale against the leather. Charles sits in the passenger seat, his phone resting in his lap, while you’re tucked into the backseat, staring out the window. None of you speak, but the air is heavy with anticipation.

As soon as Max parks, Charles is out of the car, opening your door for you before you even have the chance to unbuckle. Max grabs the bag of gifts you’d brought back in case you see the other children again, though it feels secondary now.

Inside, the orphanage is quieter than yesterday. Only a few children are up, milling around the common room, their laughter softer in the early light. Madame Ricard greets you near the entrance, her warm smile faltering when she sees the determined expressions on your faces.

“You’re back early,” she says, glancing between the three of you.

“We need to talk to you,” Charles says, his tone polite but urgent.

Madame Ricard’s brows knit together, but she nods. “Of course. Come with me.”

She leads you to her small office, its walls lined with books and photographs of smiling children. There’s a wreath hanging in the window, and the desk is cluttered with papers and a half-empty cup of coffee. She gestures for you to sit, but none of you do.

“We want to adopt Lukas and Leni,” Max says without preamble, his Dutch accent more pronounced in his urgency.

Madame Ricard blinks, her surprise evident. “That’s … that’s wonderful, but adoption is not something that can happen overnight. There’s a process — an extensive one. Home studies, background checks, legal clearances. It can take months, sometimes even years.”

You feel your stomach drop, but Charles steps forward, his expression firm. “We understand there are steps, and we’re prepared to take them. But surely there’s something that can be done to expedite the process. They shouldn’t have to wait in limbo if there’s a family ready to take them.”

Madame Ricard sighs, her hands folding neatly on the desk. “I don’t doubt your intentions. You all seem like wonderful people, and I’m sure you would make excellent parents. But the system is in place to protect the children. It’s not something I can simply bypass.”

Charles glances at you, then at Max, before pulling out his phone. He scrolls for a moment, then presses a number and raises it to his ear.

“What are you doing?” You whisper, but he holds up a finger, his focus on the call.

“Bonjour,” Charles says smoothly, switching to French. “I hope I’m not interrupting, Your Serene Highness.”

Your eyes widen, and Max mutters something in Dutch under his breath that you’re certain isn’t polite.

“Yes, it’s Charles,” Charles continues, his voice calm but determined. “I need a favor. It’s urgent.”

Madame Ricard’s mouth falls open slightly, her gaze darting between Charles and the phone. You can barely process what’s happening as Charles explains the situation to the Prince of Monaco, his words measured but impassioned.

When he hangs up, he turns back to Madame Ricard with a small, triumphant smile. “Prince Albert has assured me he’ll do everything in his power to help expedite the process. You’ll be hearing from his office shortly.”

Madame Ricard stares at him for a moment, then laughs softly, shaking her head. “I forgot who I was speaking to for a moment. Well, if the Prince is involved, that does change things. But you’ll still need to go through some initial steps before we can begin the process officially.”

“That’s fine,” Max says, his voice steady. “We’ll do whatever we need to. But can we see them?”

Madame Ricard hesitates, then nods. “Yes, of course. Follow me.”

You walk through the halls in silence, your heart pounding in your chest. When you reach the common room, Lukas and Leni are exactly where you’d seen them yesterday — off to the side, separate from the other children. Lukas is sitting cross-legged on the floor, his arms around Leni, who is curled up against him with the plush bear you gave her.

“They’ve barely moved since this morning,” Madame Ricard says softly.

You exchange a glance with Max and Charles before stepping forward together. Max crouches first, his tall frame folding easily as he kneels a few feet from Lukas.

“Hallo, Lukas,” Max says gently in German. “Do you remember me?”

Lukas’ eyes lift, wary but familiar. He nods, his grip on Leni tightening slightly.

“This is my wife,” Max continues, gesturing to you. “And you remember our husband?”

Lukas nods again, his expression unreadable.

Max glances back at you, and you lower yourself to the floor beside him. Charles follows suit on the other side, forming a small circle around the children without crowding them.

“Lukas,” Max says softly, his tone careful but warm. “I want to ask you something. It’s very important.”

Lukas tilts his head slightly, his curiosity piqued despite his guarded demeanor.

Max takes a deep breath, his eyes locking onto the boy’s. “Would you and Leni like to come home with us?”

For a moment, Lukas doesn’t respond. His brow furrows, and he looks down at Leni, who is clutching her bear tightly, her small face pressed into his side.

“Home?” Lukas echoes, his voice barely above a whisper.

Max nods. “Yes. With us. We want to take care of you and Leni. We want to be your family.”

Lukas’ eyes widen, his grip on Leni loosening just slightly as he processes the words. He looks at you, then at Charles, his gaze searching.

“You want us?” He asks, his voice trembling.

You feel your throat tighten, but you manage to nod. “Yes, we do. More than anything.”

Charles leans forward slightly, his voice soft but firm. “You don’t have to be scared anymore. We’ll take care of you. Both of you.”

Lukas’ lower lip trembles, and he looks down at Leni, who finally peeks out from where she’s been hiding. Her wide, tear-filled eyes meet Max’s, and she whispers something in German that you can’t understand.

“What did she say?” You ask quietly, glancing at Max.

Max’s voice is thick with emotion when he answers. “She asked ‘are you going to be our Mama and Vatis?’”

You feel the tears welling in your eyes, and you don’t bother trying to stop them. “Yes, sweetheart,” you say, your voice trembling. “We are. If you’ll have us.”

Lukas looks at Leni, then back at the three of you. His small shoulders square, and for the first time, his expression softens into something that looks like hope.

“Okay,” he says quietly. “We’ll go with you.”

You reach out cautiously, your hand trembling slightly as you place it gently on Lukas’. He doesn’t pull away.

Charles exhales a shaky breath, his hand coming to rest on Leni’s bear. “We’re going to take care of you,” he says, his voice thick with emotion. “Both of you.”

Max nods, his jaw tight as he fights to keep his own emotions in check. “You’re not alone anymore. You have us now.”

And for the first time, Lukas smiles — a small, tentative thing, but a smile nonetheless. It feels like the most important thing in the world.

***

One Month Later

The apartment is chaos. Wonderful, heartwarming chaos, but chaos nonetheless.

You can’t remember the last time it was this loud, and that’s saying something considering you’ve lived with two world-class athletes, three cats, and two mischievous dachshunds for years. But the addition of Lukas and Leni has turned the volume — and the energy — up several notches.

“Lukas, no running in the hallway!” You call, stepping over Jimmy, who is sprawled across the kitchen floor, his tail flicking lazily.

“He’s not running!” Max’s voice echoes from the living room. “He’s just … moving very quickly!”

You roll your eyes, a smile tugging at your lips as Leni tugs at the hem of your sweater. She’s clutching a small pile of bath toys in one hand and pointing toward the bathroom with the other.

“Bath time?” You ask gently, crouching to her level.

She nods eagerly, her curls bouncing with the motion.

“Okay, let’s find Lukas and-”

A loud crash interrupts you, followed by Charles shouting something in rapid French that sounds suspiciously like a curse. You turn the corner to find Lukas standing in the middle of the living room, an overturned laundry basket at his feet and Leo gleefully chasing a pair of socks across the floor.

“Lukas,” you sigh, trying to keep the amusement out of your voice.

“It was an accident!” Lukas insists, his hands flying up in a defensive gesture.

Charles appears from behind the couch, his hair slightly disheveled and his expression exasperated but affectionate. “An accident that somehow involved the dog stealing my socks?”

Leo lets out a triumphant bark, the sock still dangling from his mouth, before darting under the coffee table.

Max leans against the doorway, arms crossed and a grin tugging at the corners of his mouth. “I think it’s a team effort,” he says.

You shake your head, trying to stifle a laugh. “Alright, enough chaos. It’s bath time.”

“Bath time?” Lukas groans, his face scrunching up in distaste.

“Yes, bath time,” Charles says firmly, scooping up the laundry basket and tossing the scattered clothes back inside. “You’re covered in dirt from playing outside.”

“And Leni’s ready,” you add, holding up her bath toys as she beams up at you.

“I’m not dirty,” Lukas mutters, crossing his arms.

Max raises an eyebrow. “There’s literally mud on your knees, little man. Let’s go.”

It takes some coaxing, but eventually, everyone makes it to the bathroom. Lukas and Leni sit on the edge of the tub, Leni excitedly dropping her toys into the water while Lukas looks like he’s planning his escape.

“Okay, clothes off,” you say, trying to keep things moving.

Leni complies immediately, but Lukas hesitates, his arms crossing over his chest again.

“It’s just a bath,” Max says, kneeling down to Lukas’ level. “Nothing to be scared of.”

“I’m not scared,” Lukas mumbles, though his voice is quieter now.

Charles crouches next to Max, his tone gentle. “Do you want us to stay with you? Or we can leave the door open if that makes you feel better.”

Lukas glances at Leni, who is happily splashing her toys in the water, then back at Max and Charles. Finally, he nods. “Stay.”

You exchange a relieved look with Max as the two of you help the kids into the tub. The next ten minutes are a whirlwind of water, bubbles, and shrieks of laughter.

“Careful, Leni!” Charles exclaims as she flings a handful of bubbles at him, catching him squarely on the nose.

“Lukas, not the cat!” You yelp as Lukas splashes too enthusiastically and sends a wave of water cascading over the edge of the tub, directly onto Jimmy, who had wandered in to investigate.

Jimmy bolts, his tail puffed up like a bottlebrush, just as Leo decides to join the fray, leaping up to chase the bubbles floating in the air.

In the chaos, Max slips on the wet floor, catching himself on the edge of the sink. “This is a disaster,” he says, laughing as water drips from his hair.

“No, this is parenthood,” you reply, grinning as you wring out the hem of your sweater.

By the time the kids are clean and wrapped in fluffy towels, the bathroom looks like a hurricane hit it. Charles is soaked from head to toe, Max’s socks squelch with every step, and you’re pretty sure you’ll be finding remnants of stray bubbles for days.

But when Leni giggles and tugs on your sleeve, pointing at the three of you with a wide, toothy grin, it feels worth it.

***

That night, the apartment is finally quiet. Lukas and Leni are tucked into their new beds, Leo and Nino curled up at the foot of Lukas’ mattress, while the cats have retreated to their usual perches.

You’re sprawled on the couch between Max and Charles, exhaustion settling into your bones.

“I can’t believe how much energy they have,” you say, your head resting on Max’s shoulder.

“It’s like they’re powered by chaos,” Charles agrees, his arm draped over the back of the couch.

Max chuckles softly, his hand absently playing with the ends of your hair. “Chaos is putting it lightly.”

Despite your exhaustion, a sense of contentment washes over you. Your home feels fuller now — messier, louder, but fuller.

Just as you’re starting to drift off, a soft noise catches your attention. It’s the sound of small footsteps, hesitant and quiet, but unmistakable.

You sit up slightly, and a moment later, Lukas and Leni appear in the doorway, clutching their blankets and looking small and uncertain.

“What’s wrong?” You ask gently, swinging your legs off the couch.

“Nightmare,” Lukas says quietly, his free hand gripping Leni’s tightly.

Your heart clenches, and you’re already on your feet, moving toward them. “Do you want to talk about it?”

Lukas shakes his head, his eyes darting toward Max and Charles.

“Do you want to stay with us for a little while?” Max asks, his voice soft.

Both kids nod, and before you know it, they’re climbing onto the couch. Lukas settles between Max and Charles, while Leni crawls into your lap, clutching her blanket like a lifeline.

Charles pulls the blanket off the back of the couch and drapes it over all of you, his hand resting gently on Lukas’ back. Max leans down to press a kiss to Leni’s hair, his eyes meeting yours over her head.

For a long time, no one speaks. The kids slowly relax, their breathing evening out as they drift back to sleep, cocooned in the warmth of your little family.

“I think they’re starting to trust us,” Charles whispers, his voice thick with emotion.

You nod, tears prickling at the corners of your eyes. “Yeah. I think they are.”

Max tightens his arm around Lukas, his gaze soft. “We’re going to be okay,” he says quietly. “All of us.”

And in that moment, with the kids nestled against you and the warmth of Max and Charles surrounding you, you know he’s right.

***

One Year Later

The sun filters through the trees lining the courtyard of La Maternelle, casting dappled light on the cheerful faces of parents waiting to pick up their children. You stand between Max and Charles, your hands wrapped around a paper bag from the kids’ favorite bakery. Inside, two perfectly iced pastries sit, waiting to be devoured.

“Do you think they liked it?” You ask, glancing at the colorful mural decorating the preschool’s front wall.

Charles, leaning against the railing, grins. “Of course. Lukas was practically vibrating with excitement this morning. And Leni …” His voice softens. “She’ll love anything if Lukas does.”

Max chuckles, crossing his arms as he watches the doors. “Let’s see if they’re still smiling when they come out.”

You nudge him playfully. “Stop worrying. They’ll be fine.”

As if on cue, the large doors open, releasing a flood of tiny, chattering students. Teachers lead them in pairs down the stairs to their waiting parents, and the air fills with the sound of children’s voices, an overlapping mix of French, English, and the occasional giggle.

“There they are!” Charles says, pointing.

Lukas and Leni appear, hand in hand, walking down the steps alongside their teacher. Lukas is gesturing animatedly to a boy beside him, and Leni’s face lights up when she spots the three of you waiting.

“Vati! Papa! Mama!” Lukas shouts, waving so hard his backpack bounces with every step.

Your heart swells as they break into a run, dodging around other parents and children. Leni nearly trips, but Lukas catches her arm and steadies her before continuing their dash.

“Look at them,” Max murmurs, his voice thick with emotion.

You crouch down, arms open, and Leni barrels into you, wrapping her little arms around your neck. Lukas follows a second later, colliding into Max and Charles with equal enthusiasm.

“How was it?” You ask, holding Leni close as her curls tickle your cheek.

“It was so good!” Lukas exclaims, switching to German mid-sentence. “We painted, and I made a dog, and the teacher said it was good, and-”

“Wait, slow down,” Max says, laughing. “One at a time.”

Leni tugs on your sleeve, her voice quieter but no less excited. “I made a friend,” she says in French, her big eyes shining.

“You did?” You ask, your chest tightening with pride.

She nods. “Her name is Amélie. She has a pink dress.”

“Amélie is very lucky to have you as a friend,” Charles says, reaching out to smooth her curls.

Lukas jumps in, switching to English this time. “And there’s a boy who likes dinosaurs like me! His name is Leo-”

“Like our Leo?” Max asks, his grin widening.

Lukas laughs, shaking his head. “No, not like the dog!”

The four of you are caught in a swirl of excited recounting — art projects, new words they learned, and the rules of a game they played — when a sharp voice cuts through the happy chaos.

“Well, isn’t this quite the picture?”

You look up to find a woman standing nearby, her arms crossed and a thin smile on her lips. She’s impeccably dressed, her posture stiff as she surveys your little group.

Max tenses immediately, his arm moving instinctively to rest on Lukas’ shoulder. Charles straightens, his expression unreadable but his jaw tight.

“They’re yours, then?” The woman asks, her tone laced with something you can’t quite place.

You rise slowly, still holding Leni’s hand. “Yes, they’re our children.”

The woman’s gaze flicks between Max and Charles, her thin smile sharpening. “Which one of you is their father?”

You feel Max stiffen beside you, but it’s Charles who answers first, his voice calm but firm. “We both are.”

The woman lets out a laugh — short, clipped, and dripping with condescension. “Right. But which one actually is? You know, biologically.”

Heat rises to your cheeks, but you keep your voice steady. “Neither of them is.”

The woman raises a perfectly plucked brow. “Ah, so you’re one of those.”

Your heart pounds in your chest as you take a step forward, still holding Leni’s hand. “One of those?” You echo, your voice low and icy.

The woman shrugs, her smile now openly smug. “A whore who managed to get her claws into two wealthy men.”

Max moves before you can even register it, his eyes blazing. “What did you just say?”

“Max,” Charles says sharply, placing a hand on his chest to stop him from advancing. But his own voice is tight, and his hand trembles slightly.

The woman doesn’t back down, her gaze flicking between the three of you like she’s daring you to challenge her.

You step forward, letting go of Leni’s hand to stand your ground. Your voice is cold, clear, and unwavering. “None of us are their biological parents because Lukas and Leni are adopted. But we are their family in every way that matters.”

The woman snorts, waving a dismissive hand. “Adopted. So you’re not actually their parents.”

The dam breaks.

Max’s voice rises first, his Dutch accent sharp as he glares at her. “We love those kids more than you can possibly understand. How dare you suggest otherwise?”

Charles follows, his words laced with steel. “It doesn’t matter if they share our blood. They are ours, and we are theirs. That’s what makes a family.”

You step closer, your voice trembling with controlled fury. “You don’t get to stand here and insult us or our children because you can’t understand what love and family look like.”

The woman opens her mouth to reply, but Lukas beats her to it.

“Let’s go, Mama,” he says loudly, tugging at your hand and looking pointedly at the woman. “She’s not nice.”

You blink down at him, your heart swelling with pride and affection. “You’re absolutely right,” you say, giving his hand a gentle squeeze.

Charles bends down to pick up Leni, who has been watching the exchange quietly, her big eyes fixed on you. “Let’s go get a treat,” he says softly, his voice warm again.

As the five of you turn to leave, Lukas pauses. He looks back over his shoulder at the woman, his little face scrunched in determination. Then he sticks out his tongue, the gesture so quick and childish it takes you a moment to register it.

Max bursts out laughing, the sound startlingly loud after the tension of the moment. “That’s my boy,” he says, ruffling Lukas’ hair.

You can’t help but laugh too, the sound bubbling up as you walk away, hand in hand with your family.

“Good job, Lukas,” Charles says with a grin. “But next time, let’s not give her the satisfaction of a reaction, okay?”

Lukas looks up at him, confused. “What’s satisfaction?”

“It means she wanted us to be mad,” you explain, bending down to meet his gaze. “But we don’t have to let her make us feel bad. We know the truth, right?”

Lukas nods slowly, his brow furrowing in thought. “The truth is that we’re a family.”

“That’s exactly right,” Max says, his voice filled with pride.

As you hand Leni her pastry and take Lukas’ hand again, you can’t help but feel a swell of gratitude. For all the challenges, for all the moments like this, you wouldn’t trade your little family for anything in the world.

***

The paddock is alive with its usual pre-race buzz — team members rushing to and from garages, media personnel chatting with drivers, and fans craning for a glimpse of their favorites. You’re seated on a bench near the Red Bull motorhome with Lukas and Leni perched on either side of you, their little legs swinging in excitement. Max and Charles had just been whisked away for team meetings, leaving you in charge of keeping the kids entertained until they returned.

“Can we see the cars now?” Lukas asks, his eyes lighting up as a Red Bull engineer walks by with a shiny front wing. “I want to see the wheels up close.”

“Not yet,” you say, smiling as you ruffle his hair. “Soon, I promise. But first, we’re staying here. Your Vati and Papa will be back before you know it.”

“I want to see the helmets,” Leni adds, holding tightly to the small Ferrari flag Charles had given her earlier. “Are they shiny?”

“They’re very shiny,” you assure her, leaning in conspiratorially. “Maybe we’ll even help your fathers put them on later.”

Before Leni can ask another question, a young woman holding a camera and a phone approaches you hesitantly. “Hi, um, excuse me? You’re … you’re Max Verstappen and Charles Leclerc’s wife, right?”

You blink, caught off guard. “I am.”

Her face lights up. “I’m sorry to bother you, but I’m a TikToker, and I do these short interviews with fans and families at races. Would you be okay with answering a few questions? It won’t take long.”

You glance down at Lukas and Leni. “If it’s quick …”

The TikToker nods eagerly. “Super quick! Thank you so much!”

Max’s mother, Sophie, materializes beside you before you can even turn back to the kids. “Don’t worry, I’ll keep an eye on them,” she says warmly. “You go ahead.”

“Are you sure?”

Sophie waves a hand. “Of course. We’ll stay right here.”

Reassured, you follow the TikToker a few steps away, keeping the kids in your line of sight as the camera starts rolling. She asks about life as part of a racing family, what it’s like juggling everything, and even sneaks in a cheeky question about whether you think Max or Charles is faster.

You laugh, answering her questions as best as you can, but your attention keeps flicking back to Lukas and Leni. They’re sitting with Sophie, but a flash of orange catches your eye, and you see someone kneeling in front of them, grinning. Your stomach drops when you realize it’s Lando Norris, holding out what appears to be a chocolate bar.

By the time you wrap up the interview and return to the kids, Lando is gone, and Max and Charles are back from their team duties. The kids are bouncing with excitement, but something seems … off.

“Where did you get that?” Charles asks, pointing to the bright orange cap perched on Lukas’ head.

Max’s jaw drops. “Is that McLaren merch?”

Lukas beams. “Do you like it?” He gestures to his T-shirt, which features McLaren’s logo in bold black and papaya across the front. Leni twirls to show off her matching cap and scarf.

Max puts a hand to his chest, staggering back dramatically. “I can’t believe this. Our own children. Betraying us.”

Charles crosses his arms, giving Lukas an exaggerated glare. “What did we do wrong? Was it something we said? Something we did?”

“I don’t understand,” you say, shaking your head as you crouch to Leni’s level. “How did this happen? We were raising Red Bull and Ferrari fans!”

Leni giggles, her smile wide and bright, but you notice something unusual — a faint smear of chocolate at the corner of her mouth. Frowning, you reach out to wipe it away with your thumb. “What’s this?”

Max’s eyes narrow. “Chocolate? Where did you get chocolate?”

Leni freezes, her eyes going wide like she’s just been caught. Lukas, sensing danger, jumps in quickly. “We didn’t get chocolate. Nope. No chocolate.”

Max raises an eyebrow. “Are you sure? Because it looks a lot like chocolate.”

Charles kneels down beside Lukas. “Tell the truth, mon petit. Did someone give you candy?”

Lukas shakes his head firmly. “Nope. No candy.”

But Leni, blissfully unaware of her brother’s attempt to cover their tracks, nods enthusiastically. “Lando gave us sooooo much candy!”

You gasp, trying not to laugh. “Lando?”

“Lando!” Leni repeats, still grinning. “He said we have to cheer for McLaren now. He gave us these hats and shirts, too!”

Max stares at her, slack-jawed. “He bribed you? With chocolate?”

Charles leans back, laughing despite himself. “I knew Lando was sneaky, but this …”

Max, however, is not laughing. “Unbelievable,” he mutters, pacing a few steps away before turning back to face the kids. “You betrayed us for candy?”

“It was good candy!” Leni defends, crossing her arms in defiance.

Lukas looks sheepish, pulling at the brim of his cap. “It was a lot of candy …”

Max throws his hands up. “First McLaren merch, now this. What’s next? Mercedes?”

Charles smirks. “Careful, Max. If Toto hears about this, he might send over cupcakes.”

You laugh, shaking your head. “I don’t think the kids even know what a bribe is. They were just excited.”

“Exactly!” Leni says, nodding vigorously. “And Lando is nice!”

Max sighs, crouching down to meet Leni’s gaze. “Listen, princess. You can like Lando, but you’re not allowed to switch teams. Okay? Red Bull and Ferrari are the only acceptable teams in this house.”

“And no more taking candy from drivers,” Charles adds, his tone firm but playful. “Especially if it’s Lando.”

Leni pouts. “Not even a little candy?”

“Not even a little,” you say, trying to keep a straight face. “Besides, the caterer made your favorite treats. Remember?”

Their eyes light up, and the McLaren drama is momentarily forgotten as you hand over the brownies. Lukas takes a big bite of his, mumbling a happy “Mmm” through a mouthful of fudge.

Max shakes his head, still looking slightly betrayed. “I’m going to have words with Lando. Bribing our children …”

Charles grins, wrapping an arm around Max’s shoulders. “Think of it this way. At least they didn’t run straight to Mercedes.”

“Yet,” Max mutters, glaring at Lukas’ orange cap.

You laugh, watching as Lukas offers Leni a bite of his dessert. Despite the chaos, the sight of your family — all five of you together, happy and healthy — makes your heart feel full.

***

Ten Years Later

It’s a quiet Sunday afternoon at home, the kind of day that feels rare amidst the usual whirlwind of racing, school, and travel. The living room is bathed in soft sunlight streaming through the floor-to-ceiling windows. You’re curled up on the couch with a book, while Max and Charles are in the kitchen, bickering good-naturedly over who makes the better omelet.

Lukas and Leni are sprawled across the floor nearby, surrounded by textbooks and laptops, pretending to study but clearly more interested in each other’s company. Leni’s hair is tied back in a loose ponytail, her feet propped up on a throw pillow, while Lukas is lying on his stomach, tapping a pen against his notebook.

“Do you think,” Leni begins, breaking the silence, “that people become like their parents? Even when they’re not, you know, biologically related?”

You glance up from your book, curious. “What makes you ask that?”

Leni shrugs, but there’s a playful glint in her eye. “Because Lukas has your stubborn face.”

Lukas looks up, feigning offense. “What stubborn face?”

“That one!” Leni says, pointing at him and grinning. “The one you’re making right now.”

“That’s not stubborn,” Lukas protests, though his furrowed brow and set jaw suggest otherwise. “It’s just … concentration.”

“Sure,” Leni teases, dragging out the word. “You do it all the time. Especially when Vati tells you to clean your room.”

You laugh, closing your book. “I hate to admit it, but she’s right, Lukas. You do have my stubborn face.”

Lukas groans, flopping onto his back dramatically. “Great. Now I’ll never hear the end of it.”

From the kitchen, Max’s voice rings out. “What’s this about Lukas inheriting something from you?”

Leni twists around, calling back, “His stubbornness! It’s practically genetic.”

Max appears in the doorway, holding a spatula, his eyebrows raised. “Oh, definitely. But he’s got my competitive streak, too.”

Lukas sits up, crossing his arms. “How do I have your competitive streak?”

Charles joins Max, wiping his hands on a towel. “Because you turned folding laundry into a race with Leni last week. And you were genuinely upset when you lost.”

“That’s because she cheated!” Lukas argues, pointing at Leni, who bursts out laughing.

“I didn’t cheat! I’m just faster than you.”

“You shoved my pile off the couch!”

“It fell!”

Max leans against the doorframe, smirking. “See? Competitive.”

Lukas mutters something under his breath, but the corners of his mouth lift in a reluctant smile.

Leni turns her attention back to you. “And I think I got Papa’s ... what’s the word? Dramatic tendencies.”

Charles places a hand over his chest, feigning shock. “Moi? Dramatic?”

You snort. “Charles, you once said the grocery store running out of your favorite cheese was a personal attack.”

“It was a personal attack,” he says, deadpan, which only makes everyone laugh harder.

Leni grins, leaning forward eagerly. “See? I’m dramatic like him. Remember when I fell during P.E. last week and told my teacher I’d never walk again?”

“I do remember,” you say, shaking your head. “And I also remember getting a very concerned phone call from the school about it.”

Leni shrugs, unrepentant. “It worked. They let me skip the rest of class.”

Lukas rolls his eyes. “You’re lucky you didn’t get detention.”

“I’m lucky I inherited Papa’s charm,” Leni counters, flashing a smug smile.

“You mean his overconfidence,” Lukas quips, and Charles gasps in mock outrage.

Max chuckles, stepping fully into the room and sitting on the armrest of your couch. “You both definitely picked up things from us. But it’s not just the big stuff, you know. It’s the little things, too.”

“Like what?” Leni asks, tilting her head.

Max gestures toward Lukas. “The way you bite your nails when you’re nervous? That’s all me. I used to do it so much when I was younger, my mom had to put gross-tasting polish on my fingers to make me stop.”

Lukas looks at his hands, startled. “I do not bite my nails.”

“You do,” Leni says, nodding solemnly. “All the time. Especially before exams.”

“Great,” Lukas mutters. “Now I’m going to be self-conscious about it.”

Charles points at Leni. “And the way you tap your foot when you’re waiting for something? That’s definitely me. I used to do it all the time before races when I started karting.”

“I do not tap my foot-” Leni starts, but she stops mid-sentence, catching herself as her foot bounces against the floor. Her eyes widen. “Oh my God, I do.”

Lukas smirks. “See? You’re not as perfect as you think.”

Leni sticks her tongue out at him, but there’s no malice in it. “At least I didn’t inherit Vati’s terrible taste in music.”

“Hey!” Max protests. “What’s wrong with my music?”

“Everything,” Leni says, grinning. “You play the same three songs on repeat every time we’re in the car.”

“They’re classics!”

“They’re old.”

“They’re timeless,” Max insists, turning to you for backup. “Tell her.”

You shrug, hiding a smile. “I don’t want to get involved.”

Charles grins, sitting on the floor next to Leni. “It’s okay, Max. At least she didn’t say you passed on your terrible cooking skills.”

Max glares at him. “You’re one to talk. Remember the time you burned spaghetti?”

“It was one time!”

“Burned spaghetti?” Lukas echoes, looking genuinely impressed. “How is that even possible?”

“It’s a talent,” Max says, smirking.

Leni laughs, leaning against Charles. “See? We’ve got the best parts of all of you. Except the bad cooking. That we avoided.”

You watch them, your heart swelling. It’s moments like these that remind you how deeply your family has grown together over the years. Despite not sharing blood, there’s no denying the ways Lukas and Leni have absorbed pieces of you, Max, and Charles — through habits, quirks, and inside jokes that only make sense within the four walls of your home.

“Do you ever wish you remembered what you got from your biological parents?” You ask softly, the question slipping out before you can stop it.

Leni and Lukas exchange a glance, their playful banter momentarily replaced by something quieter, more thoughtful.

“Sometimes,” Leni admits. “Like, when people ask where my freckles come from, I wonder if my mother had them too.”

Lukas nods. “Or when I see someone really tall and think maybe my father was tall. Stuff like that.”

“But it doesn’t matter,” Leni adds quickly, looking at you, Max, and Charles in turn. “Because we’re like you. In all the ways that count.”

“And we wouldn’t change it,” Lukas says, his voice steady.

You feel your throat tighten, and when you glance at Max and Charles, you see the same emotion mirrored in their eyes. Max reaches out to ruffle Lukas’ hair, while Charles pulls Leni into a side hug, kissing the top of her head.

“We wouldn’t change it either,” you say, your voice thick with emotion.

“Not for anything,” Charles adds.

Leni leans into him, smiling up at Max. “Even if you do have bad taste in music.”

Max groans, but there’s a smile tugging at his lips. “I’ll let that slide. This time.”

Lukas grins, leaning back against the couch. “See? We’ve got the best family.”

Leni nods in agreement, and for a moment, the room is filled with a comfortable, loving silence — the kind that only exists in the presence of people who truly know and understand each other.

[casedeviant]

𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒 𓋰 ╭ 18+ ╮ top male reader & bottom transmasc satoru gojo ⓘ solo masturbation . phone sex . sex toys . squirting . multiple orgasms . voice kink . daddy kink . talking him through it but you're at work . twt link . 1.7k wc

i did not plan for this to be so long lol but horny 3am thoughts i guess. not proof-read. love the thought of gojo being super giggly and a little airy when he's horny. grown ass man btw. anyways, inspired by this suggestive video i saw on twt. enjoy.

what are you going to do when your boyfriend satoru randomly sends you a video of him grinding his clit up and into your bedsheets, just half an hour after you left the apartment to go to work?

you're in the office, impossibly hard now, wracking over all the ways you could make use of his holes instead of all the ways you should be writing paperwork instead; it didn't help either, that all of this is left up to your imagination at eight o'clock in the morning.

the video wasn't even that explicit to begin with. but he always knew how to be a sleazy little thing at the most inappropriate of times, getting under your skin at any chance he thought was amusing and necessary.

before you proceed to play the short and scandalous video, you slip in your airpods from their case that was sheltering against the pockets of your slacks, turning the volume down to a moderate level.

it's not like it mattered when you had both earbuds in, but with how easily they can block out the noises around you, you felt like you needed to experience this way before you lost your mind completely.

after you hover over the play button, your thumb comes down on the illuminated screen, sizing the video into full screen that has you tilting it horizontally.

your cock instantly responds at the sight behind your pants, forcing you to hunch over yourself against your office desk. one of your hands come up to your chin in riveted focus, as the other holds the end of your phone, lightly letting it sit against the mahogany wood.

"daddy- i miss you... i woke up from a wet dream where you were violating my sweet, little body. i can't stop thinkin' about you and your big, stupid, fat cock."

your brows crinkle and you let out a sigh, running a palm down your face, ever so slowly, at that nickname. it was no use trying to rub away the frustration as clear as day on your countenance, when the only frustration was actually sitting in your pants and not displayed on your face instead.

satoru was tickling your patience.

"f-feels... good... ngh" your eyes carefully watch him guide his lower half up and into the crinkled duvet. one of his hands rested on the outside, as his hips bucked up, adding pressing. the line of muscles that sat against his lower stomach and navel flattened and then bulked as he continued the rocking motion, slips and stutters ensuing.

i know, my sweet boy, would be what you'd say to him if you were there with him in that moment, but instead, you reply with a "come in", as your secretary interrupts your riveting watch time with a hefty knock on the door.

"but it's never as good as what your warm cock feels like inside of me."

a cough suddenly escapes your lips, and she looks over at you with a raised eyebrow. you then deadpan at her, adjusting your tie.

"what is it?"

"we have a meeting in five?"

shit, you forgot about that.

"fine, whatever. i'll be out there in a second. so give me a bit of time to prepare these papers."

she pushes up the spectacles on the bridge of her nose suspiciously as you placed your phone screen down against the table, the light catching against her glass frames. she nods at you with a sigh, the stern look on her face prior, washing away. she bows politely before excusing herself from the room.

as she closes the door behind her, you immediately turn your phone over to look at the video again.

and that's when you thought it couldn't get any better than it sounded listening to your boyfriends moans over important business meetings.

the duvet has migrated further down his thighs now, just resting above his knees. and you watch him furiously rub away at his clit with two fingers in a circular pattern.

"fuck, satoru..." you breathe out from underneath your breath as he continues to pleasure himself in the video.

"ah! ah! right there~ oh my god, [name]! s' good! ahh....ahhh...p-please" the whine at the end of his string of pleasurable moans caught you off guard with how vulnerable they sounded.

how long ago was this video sent? fuck it, i'm calling him.

when you exit out the video before it finishes, you click on the phone icon that dials up his number.

"hmm, baby? what are you doing calling me up this early in the morning?"

cheeky bastard.

"strip."

there's a moment of silence, and you know exactly what type of facial expression the man is making – that stupid little smile, index nail caught between his front teeth. looking real innocent for someone who's fucking guilty of turning you on so early in the morning.

"'nd how do you know i'm not already naked?"

"'satoru. do as you're told."

"ah......"

"you don't want to disappoint daddy just before an important meeting, do you?"

"..."

you hear him begin to take his clothes off behind the phone, ruffling noises filling your ears.

"there, are you happy now?"

"not quite. put the phone down, onto the vanity for me."

with how much his voice echoed from before, you knew he was in the ensuite bathroom. probably preparing to shower after just getting himself off. stupid mutt.

"okayyyyy... 'nd then what?" he asks in a spunky voice. a devious smirk graces your lips.

"then, i want you to put the glass holder for our toothbrushes, over the speaker."

at this point, satoru isn't quite sure what you are up to. but after more moving noises, he replies back to you.

"i did it... is this really mea-"

"now, i want you to go into the bottom drawer, where you will find something very, very special."

after you interrupt him, he bends over to inspect it. as surmised, inside, there was a pink vibrating dildo you bought just for him.

"i-"

his voice shakes, not from embarrassment, but out of pure joy that you bought him something "so cute!".

"good boy, 'toru."

satoru swallows thickly, anticipating your next instructions carefully, now understanding what you wanted him to do.

"are you still wet from earlier?"

"mhm"

"use your words, boy."

"y-yes... i'm still- wet, daddy."

"good. i want you to attach that dildo to the side of the sink for me, just below your phone. i need to hear how properly soaked you are."

you hear the suction cup underneath the dildo seize the side of the vanity, giving your go-to to speak.

satoru is already slightly bent over, rubbing his folds over the toy. you can hear it as clear as day, the slippery sounds reverberating in your skull.

as you stand to proceed to leave, you slip your phone in your pocket, deciding to go with one earbud so it wasn't as noticeabley suspicious. you left the odd one on your desk as you left your office, heading towards the meeting room.

"d-daddy? are you there?"

"just a second, my love."

you step into the vacant elevator that took you to the floor with the meeting room.

"are you still there, my love?"

"mhmm... how do i- turn it on? i need this thing inside of me, right now!"

you chuckle before pressing the earbud into your ear to hear him better.

"on the side. but do it carefully, i want to hear you take it slowly, imagining its me fucking you instead."

satoru whines at that notion, already picturing the angle your cock naturally tilted at. he then pressed the pink, now vibrating, silicone head against his dripping entrance, knees buckling when it pushes in.

the squelch sound could be heard crystal clearly amongst his whines, and it makes you wonder how the hell you're going to hide the half-boner in your pants.

as the elevator dings, informing you that you arrived at the correct floor, you step outside.

"i don't want to hear you stop or take a break at all during my meeting, got it, my dear?"

satoru nods his head furiously, as if you could see him... "yes, daddy. i under- ah! stand..."

the silver-haired man pushes his hips back, sheathing the entire dildo into his hole. his back arches, finding the sensitive bundle of nerves between his legs as his knees bend together, holding him upright.

"welcome, [name]"

satoru hears on the other end of the phone, and he knew the meeting was about to begin. you nod nonchalantly, moving into the room with the rest of them.

"f-fuckkk. ah! oh god." satoru snivels, reaching his first climax as more drool exudes from his weeping cunt and onto the cold tiles below him. he fucks himself through it, his ass repeatedly slapping against the vanity's side. the echoes sends a shiver down your spine.

you inhale sharply, running a hand through your hair as you take a seat next to your secretary.

"the meeting has begun."

you nod when the gentleman the opposite side of you, announces.

"d-daddy. i need you so bad. FUCK! it feels like 'm gonna cum... again. holy shit- this thing slaps."

you roll your eyes at the way he breaks tone, thinking that you were directing it at the fellow in front of you. the man glares at you, before continuing to speak again.

you were thankful that you didn't need to speak much this meeting.

as time passed, and it ended, you hear satoru squirt on the other end of the phone, the suction cup that was holding the dildo to the sink, slipping off.

you hear him collapse to the ground, slapping his own pussy. heat instantly reaches your ears at that thought; slapping his cunt, that's a new dirty drink you'd like to try out for yourself.

i wonder what face he is making. you think to yourself.

"sir?" your secretary calls out to you, and you stand up from your seat, excusing yourself as the others packed up too. as the two of you make it back to your office in silence in the elevator, you quickly excuse her.

"'toru? baby, are you still with me?"

"..."

"satoru?"

"hehehehe"

"fucking hell..."

you let out a momentary sigh.

"you're going to regret sending me that video so early in the morning, when i get home from work today."

"oh yeah?"

you let out a hearty chuckle.

"you don't believe me?"

"i don't knowwww. maybe i don't." he lets out a small titter again, clearly fatigued from coming so much

"stop it. get a shower. your daddy will be home in..." you check your watch, sighing, realising, your day is just getting started.

"...soon."

[desturns]

──── favorite position. m.s.

warnings. none :) just fluff and a curse here and there . not proofread! <3

୨ৎ

“are you fuckin’ goin’ through the early stages of cataracts or somethin— like what is the problem here?”

feeling a slight vibration against your chest and hearing the hushed sounds of matt trash talk his brothers through the headset as they all played fortnite together, the pure irritation in his tone as chris just couldn't land his shots, was enough to make your eyes slowly flutter open.

you had come over earlier to just hang out with the boys after they were done filming a car video. after going out to eat and coming back, the four of you decided to play a couple of rounds of fortnite together. you weren't the best player ever by any standards, rarely playing games by yourself whenever you had little downtime to spare, but you found yourself where you'd always find yourself when you were willing to play with them; on matt's lap in his desk chair.

it wasn't weird or anything. it was easier for the both of you since he always allowed you to use split-screen, something neither chris and nick were willing to do since they complained it ‘made it difficult to aim’, and if you sat anywhere else you definitely wouldn't be able to see anything. you never sat on him inappropriately, either; you'd always pick a leg and sit sideways on him, curling into a little ball against his chest since that was the most comfortable.

not that matt cared if you were on one thigh or practically straddling him. he didn't mind one bit. in fact, matt lived for the moments when you'd agree to play fortnite with him and his brothers because then he knew he'd get you in his favorite way. with him. curled up against his chest with an arm wrapped around your waist, practically enclosing you into his embrace as both hands gripped his controller.

you guys were friends, sure, and maybe friends shouldn't like the feeling of their friends on their laps. but matt relished in the feeling and he'd be lying if he said he felt guilty.

shortly after three rounds of the game, he felt your body get slightly heavier, heard your breathing even out where your head was resting under his chin, your grip on the controller practically nonexistent as it felt onto his lap. you'd fallen asleep and matt just didn't have the heart to wake you up. how could he? you were in his favorite position against him, at your most vulnerable, your most trusting. this was an opportunity far too good to pass up.

unfortunately, matt got very competitive when it came to playing more than two hours worth of fortnite. like right now.

chris wasn't landing his shots, nick kept fucking with the build tool, and he was trying to win against two other players who seemed to have been playing fortnite since its release date. all of his sudden jerks and tensing up whenever he'd die or lose combined with his hushed criticism eventually lead to now.

you waking up with your face pressed against the crook of his neck, close enough where you can hear chris respond back to matt in an equally annoyed tone.

matt felt a feather-light touch on his skin, your eyelashes brushing up against his neck as you started to open your eyes, and tensed up as his own eyes went a little wide. shit, fuck she's waking up, was all he thought as he gently pulled back enough to look down at you.

“shh, it's okay, you can go back to sleep,” he murmured softly once catching sight of your eyes in a squint, his hand reaching up to mute his mic as his focus was no longer on winning.

he could hear chris in his ears immediately start bitching once he dies, calling him a hypocrite, but he ignored it.

“n-no, i’m—” you pause so you could let out the small yawn that you were apparently holding up before letting your eyes close briefly, rubbing them so you'd wake up. “—shit, sorry, i didn't mean to knock out on you.” you'd never accidentally fallen asleep on him before, never slept around him really unless it was a thirty minute nap on their couch and he was sitting close by. for all you know, he was hiding his annoyance from you so you wouldn't feel bad.

“eh, it's fine. i don't mind being a human body pillow,” he shrugged his shoulders and softly smiled, his eyes taking in your freshly awakened features. the way your lip pouted slightly, the way your eyes were still droopy… there were so many things he wanted to say to you at that moment, yet couldn't.

you softly yawned once more and started to shift so you could get off his lap and at least go to the couch, but then you realized his arm was still around your waist, still holding his controller, essentially trapping you in his embrace still. before you could ask him to let you go, he spoke up first.

“hey—stay with me, will you?”

he wanted you to stay with him? like this?

“are you sure…? i mean, i know i’m not exactly the lightest person ever—”

“don't start that bullshit. just go back to sleep, yeah? i’ll try to keep it quiet so you won't wake up... again.”

you had to admit, you were still pretty tired and being held like this by matt was sort of… comforting, in a way. you weren't much of a cuddler but there was something there that made you nod your head to his wishes and rest back against him, burying your head right under his chin into his chest where you could hear him exhale like he was waiting for you to say no.

a small smile found its way on matt's face and he unmuted his mic once more, making sure to keep his volume close to a mumble so he wouldn't disturb you.

and so you went back to sleep. and matt continued to enjoy you just how he liked you.

-----------

desspeaks! sigh i'm a sucker for a good lil fluff moment, what can i say? slowly figuring out my aesthetic yall this is so much fun why didn't anybody tell me tumblr was this much fun anyways until next time