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tinystarbites · 8 months ago

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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.

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 ;)

#tinywrites #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid smut #spencer reid x fem!reader #spencer reid x reader fanfic #criminal minds smut #spencer reid x reader smut #spencer reid x y/n #tinywrites:accidents #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid fic #criminal minds x reader

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nanamisgirly · 3 months ago

Text

cw cheater!nanami, spit, age gap, degrading. (unprotected sex, p in v)

touching yourself in the guest room of your best friend's house was probably a terrible idea. but could anyone blame you when nanami had spent the entire day parading around shirtless, sun-kissed and glistening, those broad shoulders shifting effortlessly as he flipped burgers at the grill?

sprawled on the bed, fingers between your thighs with the vivid image of nanami. older, mature, built like he was sculpted for sin. that blonde happy trail, those veined forearms, the way his sweat-soaked shorts sat loooow on his hips...teasing the thick ridge beneath—it wasn't fair.

"n-nanami- mfghn" as two fingers played with your inside, you wished it was him. with those big hands, those tired, restrained eyes. just the thought of him kneeling between your legs, muttering about how bad this was as he spreads you open, pressing his cock against your slick folds—you nearly cum.

"fuck—n-need him," your pussy started clenching.

when suddenly, you hear a soft crack and your door shifted, just a little. and through the dim light you see a very imposing Nanami standing in the doorframe. eyes wide, watching you. but you were so lost in pleasure you continued anyway "M-Mr. n-nanami-" you used your small fingers to part your pussy lips, letting him see your glistening inside.

nanami should back down, act like he saw nothing. but it's been so long since he properly fucked. his wife doesn't even let him have sex, and if he does, it's just a plain-boring vanilla sex.

that's why his hands are on you in the speed of the light. gripping your hips, shoving you down onto the mattress, mouth against your neck. "fuck.." nanami was fast to drag out his monstrous rock-hard cock. pink tip flushing, hungry. your walls clenched around nothing. you were so ready to be stretched open by him. your back arches, in need.

"p-put in it— i-i'm prep enough." you reached for his cock and give him a few strokes. he was sooo heavy in your hand.

"goddamn." nanami doesn't wait for more. he glides his swollen tip along your drenched slit, teasing, pressing. then with a ruthless snap of his hips, he's buried deep inside of you—so deep it feels like he's rearranging your insides, stealing the breath from your lungs. you're dripping, struggling to take his sheer size. each unforgiving thrust shoves you deeper into the sheets, the bed frame creaking under the force. "p-please—more—ah!—n-need more," you grind back on him, desperate, matching his brutal rhythm, your slick making a filthy mess between you.

nanami snaps, pushing your legs up, up, up—until your knees brush your ears. he adjusts his stance, planting his feet for better leverage. he watches the way your stomach bulges with every ruthless stroke. he presses a broad palm over the swell, feeling himself inside you, grunting when you whimper. this new position was so good, feeling every thick veins grazing your inside as he goes in and out, in and out, in—

"you filthy slut," nanami spits the words against your ear, his grip bruising where he holds your thighs, dragging you back onto his cock like you're nothing more than a toy to use. "moaning my name like a desperate thing while you touch yourself. what kind of nasty little girl gets off thinking about her best friend's dad who is twice her age?" you can't even answer. you're too fucked-out, too cock-drunk. "messy fucking cunt," he growls, glancing down to where your juices drips down on his cock, his thighs sticky with your slick. "wanted me to stretch this messy little hole until you couldn't walk? fuck, I can feel you drooling around me—naaaasty." your nails claw at his shoulders, your soaked cunt clenching down, begging for more.

his fingers wrap around your throat, forcing your head up. "use your words, slut. I asked you a question."

"y-yes-" your voice cracks, high and breathless, "-wanted you so bad, w-wanted—ohhh, f-fuck—" nanami grabs your jaw, forces your mouth open, and spits straight onto your tongue. "swallow." you do—instantly, obediently—moaning as the taste of him lingers, heat searing through your veins.

"poor dump thing," his grip is bruising, pinning you down, keeping you right where he wants you—helpless and trembling, your walls fluttering wildly around the thick length. your spin arches like a bow as he says "gonna ruin you. gonna fuck you so full, you won't even remember how anyone else feels."

nanami was on the verge of loosing his mind. "you're gonna take every last drop of my cum, everything I give you." his hands seize your ass, forcing you down onto his thick base. "like a gooood slut, right?" that was probably the best pussy he's ever had. and he surely won’t stop fucking you dump any time soon.

a/n mean nanami for the win🙂‍↕️

#jujutsu kaisen #jjk smut #jjk x reader #jjk nanami #nanami smut #nanami kento #nanami x reader #jujutsu kaisen smut #jjk x reader smut #jjk kento #nanami kento smut #jjk x you #jujustu kaisen

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pieandflannel · 3 months ago

Note

hey girlie, could you do a dean x reader where he finds out she's a squirter? thanks xxx

౨ৎ ₊˚⊹ like a faucet

pairing: dean winchester x fem!reader

summary: dean uses a new fingering technique that makes you squirt for the first time.

cw: 18+ smut.ᐟ fingering.ᐟ squirting.ᐟ

word count: 445

julia yaps: thank you for trusting me with your request! hope you like it! <3

────────── 💦 ──────────

dean was always good when it came to pleasuring you, like hella good. but tonight? he was something else. it’s as if he was using a new technique or something, which he was.

he couldn’t help himself but read that article about female pleasure you had accidentally left open on the laptop. after all it was like you were asking for him to read it.

his fingers worked in perfect rhythm, drawing out constant moans from your pretty parted lips. you just couldn’t control your volume. your fists grasping the fabric of the bedsheets for dear life as your hips bucked against his hand.

“you like that sweetheart?” he coaxed, his voice low and full of cocky satisfaction, noticing the results of this new pussy play technique he desperately wanted to try out.

his fingers stretching your hole open, slow but deliberate strokes, teasing that sweet spot deep inside you, over and over and over again.

his thumb circling your clit with enough pressure to have your hips grind against his hand, desperate whines and erotic moans bouncing off his bedroom walls as you lay on his bed with your legs wide open, his fingers playing with your pretty little pussy. sam and cas definitely hearing you from across the bunker.

“s-so good” you manage to cry out, your mind turning to mush from the intense pleasure. “d-dean~”

you were close, so so close. but the intensity kept building and building, forming into something almost too much to handle. a sharp gasp tore from your lips as the tension snapped, a cry leaving your lips as pleasure crashed over you, not like a tidal wave, but a goddamn tsunami.

something wet gushing from between your legs, soaking dean’s hand, the sheets, everything. dean just made you squirt, hard.

your body shook, the overwhelming feeling flushing over you, your eyes widened as you’ve never experienced this before, you didn’t even know you were able to do that.

your cheeks burned with embarrassment as you hide your face in your hands, but dean just grins, looking downright smug as he stared at the mess you’ve made.

“well, damn” he chuckled cockily, dragging his soaked fingers over your skin, deliberately spreading the wetness all over your swollen clit and lips.

“didn’t know you could do that sweetheart, but I sure as hell ain’t complaining.” his smirk prideful, his ego fed knowing he just made you squirt like a faucet.

“sorry about your bed..” you spoke after finally catching your breath. dean shakes his head with a smile.

“don’t apologise darling, we’ll just sleep in your room tonight, i’ll clean this up tomorrow” he reassures you with a forehead kiss.

thank you so much for reading! feedback and reblogs are always deeply appreciated <3

tags: @jensino @emeraldcrs @soldiersgirl @jensenacklesballsack @missus-ackles @littlesoulshine @deanswifeyy @slut4jackles @h8aaz @figisonline @figthoughts @angelicjackles @losers-clvb @lyarr24 @cowboysandcigarettes @blossomingorchids @bluemerakis

𑁥౿ check out my masterlist for other works!

♡ see this post to be added to the taglist!

#pieandflannel #deanwinchester #jensen ackles #fanfic #spn #supernatural #dean winchester drabble #dean winchester imagine #dean winchester fanfiction #dean x reader #dean x you #dean winchester x you #dean winchester smut #smut

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theresatzu · 1 month ago

Text

Blue Lock characters and the pretty interviewer

Pairings. Blue Lock character x reader

Starring.//Isagi Yoichi//Bachira Meguru //Itoshi Rin//Michael Kaiser//

Tags. fluff//future fic//interview

Isagi Yoichi

ᯓ★ˎˊ˗Nervous mess all the way

ᯓ★ˎˊ˗Stammers when asked questions

ᯓ★ˎˊ˗Keeps stealing glances at you, but it's literally so obvious, it's painful

"So, Isagi-san, what did you think of today's match's outcome?" You asked, turning to him.

Isagi , who had been silently glancing at you, flinched, his eyebrows shooting upwards, cheeks turning an adorable pink.

"Uh... me?" He pointed at himself, looking very much like a dear caught in clear daylight.

"Yes, you." You chuckled.

At your slight laughter, Isagi went even more red.

"Oh... uh, it was great. Yeah." He rubbed the back of his neck, looking anywhere but at you.

When you inclined your head to continue, Isagi 's mind went blank.

He blurted, "I think you're really pretty."

You shot him a confused look.

"UH, I mean, the match went pretty. Pretty well." He poorly corrected himself.

You eyed him amusedly. "Oh? Care to share some of your insight for your adoring fans?"

"My... insight?" Isagi repeated, a little breathless.

Because it was warm. Because he was warm. From the match.

(The match had already concluded three hours prior).

"Uhm... there were some really good... uh... plays." Isagi answered, stealing a glance at you, only to see that you were already looking at him.

His eyes widened, darting away. "And... uh..." What the hell was he even talking about? "Rin had some nice saves."

"Rin?" You tilted your head, "He wasn't in today's match, was he?"

"Oh! Oh." Isagi's lips parted, his eyes flicking from left to right to come up with an answer.

"Uh... I meant... he would have made a few good saves if he were in the game. You know... with uhm..." He faltered.

You nodded at him, beckoning him to continue, eyes attentively set on him. Isagi swallowed arduously.

His throat ran dry. Isagi coughed.

The silence stretched on.

He had to answer, now.

But with what? Rin with... with what?!

You were still looking at him, eyes expectant and so pretty-

"Pretty eyes." Isagi blurted out.

You frowned, confusion on your face. "Pretty eyes?"

Isagi went bright red. He could hear Bachira next to him shaking, doing a poor job of concealing his gleeful cackles at Isagi's predicament.

"Uh... did I say pretty eyes?" Isagi chuckled. It was strained and awkward.

"What I meant to say was... uh... predator's vision? Like when... when your vision of the field becomes really limited, you know?" He finished rather lamely.

"...Yeah." You slowly nodded your head, eyeing him with a mix of befuddlement and concern.

Then you turned to Bachira next to him, and Isagi could breathe a little bit easier. Though, his heartbeat didn't settle down, his cheeks felt like they were on fire.

Keep it together, Isagi. He said to himself. He was a goddamn world class footballer. He didn't do nervosity.

He had faced off Itoshi Rin and survived.

He had led Japan to the World Cup and carved his name in the football world.

He had become the top striker of his generation.

There was no way he was going to start being nervous now.

But he still felt his heart doing a little jump every time you looked at him.

Bachira Meguru

ᯓ★ˎˊ˗ Just sits close to you, his eyes barely leaving you

ᯓ★ˎˊ˗Thinks every question is directed at him

ᯓ★ˎˊ˗Is just one ball of sunshine, especially when your attention is on him

"So... Isagi-san, what is your opinion about how Japan has thus far fared in the World Cup?"

"Oh, well I think--"

"We're doing amazing! Did you see my super special dribble?" Bachira excitedly interjected.

"Dude." Isagi nudged him, an unimpressed expression on his face. "That was my question."

"Oh! Oh." Bachira deflated, sitting back again.

You chuckled. "Don't worry Bachira-san, you'll get the next one."

Bachira's eyes lit up at that, but they dwindled when you directed your attention on Isagi again.

Isagi began talking again. Bachira leaned back in his seat.

He bounced his leg impatiently, Isagi's thorough analysis on Japan's performance fading into the background.

Bachira's eyes flicked to yours, his bottom lip jutting out a little when you actually seemed captivated in Isagi's story.

Bachira eyed the two of you suspiciously, noting that Isagi was also sitting the closest to you.

Pursing his lips, Bachira stood up.

Isagi shot him a sidelong glance, raising an eyebrow. "What are you doing?"

"This seat is uncomfortable. Can I sit there?"

Bachira pointed at Isagi.

You let out a snort. "You want to sit on Isagi's lap?"

Isagi guffawed, going bright red. "PR, PR!" He hissed at Bachira. "What the hell are you doing?"

"Move!" Bachira whispered back.

"Wait, what? Wha--" Isagi yelped as Bachira shoved him aside.

With a straight face, Bachira sat down, not even looking at Isagi, who was on the ground, mouth hanging wide open.

"Dude."

Bachira tactfully ignored Isagi, flashing you a bright grin, as if nothing had occurred in the past few seconds.

"You wanted to ask me a question?"

Itoshi Rin

ᯓ★ˎˊ˗ He's really quiet during the interview, like, he'll answer questions, but just the bare minimum.

ᯓ★ˎˊ˗ Avoids eye contact like the plague, but he'll try to steal a look at you the moment your gaze is elsewhere

ᯓ★ˎˊ˗ When he's caught looking, he'll freeze up, scowl fixed on his face. But if you look closely, you can see that the tips of his ears have turned a handsome red

"So, Rin-san, how did you think the match went?"

Rin's face was stoic, looking at the cement wall behind you.

"...It went well."

"You've scored a magnificent goal during the game, how did you pull that off?"

"...Just predicting the game and being in the right position."

Rin sighed, glancing to the side. Looking like he wanted to be anywhere else.

A tense silence fell.

You coughed, forcing a strained smile on your face.

"Rin." Isagi made a face at him. Rin raised an eyebrow.

You chuckled awkwardly, shuffling your cards. Were there any questions left?

With the way Rin had curtly and concisely answered the questions, you had rushed through the interview, with no more inquiries at hand.

It was clear Rin wasn't in the mood to field any questions: clear avoidance of direct eye contact, standoffish demeanour, and closed-off answers.

They were all tell-tale signs that Rin was itching to just leave.

You sighed, heart sinking in your chest.

You had been hoping to hold this interview with Rin since months now, being an avid admirer of his intricate playstyle and his tactics on the field.

However, it seemed that the sentiment wasn't returned.

"Well, I guess we'll wrap it up for today," You said, hiding the disappointment in your voice.

You looked up from your cards to say goodbye to both Isagi and Rin.

Your eyes met teal, irridescent ones.

Rin's eyes were dazed, a soft edge to them. A stark contrast to the cold look in them during the interview.

You tilted your head curiously.

Noticing you looking, Rin's eyebrows rose. His eyes widened for a fraction of a second, a flustered look flashing in them, lips parting slightly.

He looked away, jaw tensed, and the moment was over.

Your eyebrows went high, intrigue welling up.

...Or maybe the sentiment was returned.

It was in the minute details, you assumed.

When Isagi nudged Rin playfully, shooting a knowing grin his way, which maybe meant Rin tolerated you, that was only an assumption.

When Rin's ears turned a lovely red when he looked at you, that was also only an assumption.

But when you shook Rin's hand, and looked him in the eye, that was only confirmation.

Michael Kaiser

ᯓ★ˎˊ˗ Flirts. Charms. Is not professional at all. "Accidentally" lets diminutives slip.

ᯓ★ˎˊ˗ Either answers questions about himself in a cocky manner, or is the one asking you the questions.

"So, Kaiser, in the last match, you managed to pull off a move called the "Magnus Impact", how did you do that?"

"Well..." Kaiser said, a confident quirk to his lips, "It's an unparalleled move of mine, and it paid off." He answered simply.

Then, he shifted, leaning his head on his arm, his eyes shooting to yours. "But what about you? How did you pull off that good look of yours?"

You choked.

"Wha--?" Your eyes went wide, spluttering.

Excuse me?"

Kaiser leaned in, his finger brushing a strand of hair behind your ear, his touch leaving goosebumps on your skin.

"I know that my Magnus Impact is based off on my pure talent. I'm guessing your lovely look is natural, too, no?"

"Oh-- uhm..." You didn't know what to say. "I... guess?"

Kaiser hummed, leaning back in his seat again. "Thought so."

When the proximity between you two lessened, you let out a breath, quickly fixing your eyes on your question paper.

However, unbeknownst to you, Kaiser was still looking at you, eyes roaming over your features, a pensive expression on his face.

"Though, why did you choose to pursue this interview career of yours? You could've easily made the highway, Schätzchen."

"Huh?" Your head shot up from your cards.

"Mhm... lovely smile, natural blush, mesmerising eyes. And above all, a charming personality." Kaiser winked at you.

"Oh... uhm, I--" Didn't know what to answer. "Thanks?"

Kaiser let out a handsome chuckle, pushing the bangs out of his face. "Liebe, no need to thank me for your attractiveness, I'm only calling attention to the objective facts."

Your face went red.

"Though, if I might share my subjective opinion," Kaiser said, voice teetering on low.

"I'd say you're the prettiest girl I've ever met." His voice was barely above a whisper, a teasing edge to it.

The air was punched out of your lungs.

What in the Wattpad was happening?

"Uhm..." You cleared your throat. "While I do appreciate your compliments about my... looks, let's keep it professional, shall we?"

Kaiser smiled slightly, before nodding. "Whatever the lady wants. Fire away any questions you want to ask." The corners of his lips quirked upwards.

You inclined your head, shuffling through your cards.

Kaiser tilted his head,chancing a glance at your cards, an amused undertone to his voice. "Though, only professional ones."

A flush overtook your features.

The rest of the interview went swimmingly.

Kaiser expressed in detailed display his opinion and was consistent in his answers, so it came as no surprise that you could wrap up your interview early.

"Well, that went fast." You said in a surprised tone.

You stuck out your hand. "Thank you so much for your time, Kaiser."

A smile played on Kaiser's lips. "The pleasure was all mine."

You turned around to leave, but fingers gently clasped around your wrist, lightly tugging you back.

You came face to face with Kaiser.

"Oh... hi?"

"Hi." He said softly. "You have some time left?"

You checked your watch. You had a break scheduled now, so yeah.

You nodded.

Kaiser sat back down, gesturing for you to do the same.

Obliging, you retook your seat, a confused look in your eyes.

Kaiser leaned back in his chair.

You eyed him, puzzled.

"Well?" Kaiser tilted one eyebrow. "Don't tell me you don't have any questions for me, miss Journalist."

"...questions?" You repeated.

A handsome grin flitted on Kaiser's lips, he raised his eyebrows, his eyes falling on your cards.

"I... alright, but I'll have to go in an hour." You conceded, not wanting to pass up on this opportunity.

Kaiser tilted his head. "Whatever the lady wants. Fire away any question you have."

Your eyes widened, giving him an inquiring look.

"...unproffesional ones are allowed, too." Kaiser drawled.

Your face went up in flames.

Masterlist

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cowgirlvi · 4 months ago

Text

mdni. sub-top vi with a dick. fem power-bottom reader. vaginal sex. breeding. p in v sex.

vi masterlist

word count: 1.5k

thinking about whiny girlcock vi, who has the most sensitive dick you’ve ever bared witness to. the two of you have been hooking up for months now and she might be the best sex you’ve ever had. her reactions are priceless too, especially when she first pops the head of her cock inside your hole and she looks like she’s ascended to heaven. you can always picture her blissed out face so clearly in your mind whenever you touch yourself.

her cock is girthy, so fat that you can’t even fit your entire hand around it, and when she’s inside you, you can feel her reach your bellybutton. plus, when she’s fucking into you, she moans as if she’s the one getting fucked. if anyone were to overhear, they’d assume those were your squeaky whimpers, the sounds of you begging.

sometimes you try to just lay back and relax, allow vi to ravage you with her cock, but then she’s breaking you out of your trance and asking if it feels good, if she’s doing it right—and you sigh because she’s so dependent on you, she needs you to tell her what to do. your pussy makes her feel dumb, it makes her brain melt out of her head.

currently, you’re in her lap, bouncing on her cock like she’s nothing more to you than a toy. you’re riding her with a maddeningly slow rhythm, just because you like the faces she makes when you do; like vi can’t decide if it feels good or if she’s going to cry out of frustration.

you whimper, clenching down hard on the thick shaft impaling you, feeling it pulse and throb inside your fluttering walls, feeling the heartbeat in the thick veins running up the sides. you grinds your hips down, taking vi as deep as she can go, loving the way that her fat cock-head kisses your cervix.

vi’s desperation is palpable, her hips twitching and jerking with the effort of holding still, of letting you set the pace. It's clear that she's absolutely dying to just grab your hips and rail into you with pathetic fervor, to fuck you through the goddamn mattress until you’re both a babbling, drooling mess. but she's trying so hard to be good, to let you use her like the fucktoy she is.

vi’s hips twitch with uncontrollable desperation against you and a sudden cry escapes her lips. “baby, fuuuck, please—just, just a little bit faster—ohh!”

“are you really going to—hmmff—going to make me tell you again, vi? stay still,” you say, grabbing her face firmly, cupping her chin so she’s forced to look up and see the disappointment in your eyes. then you lean in, capturing vi’s lips in a filthy kiss, all teeth and tongue as you suck the air from her lungs. you bite at vi’s bottom lip, tugging on it with your teeth before soothing the sting with a kitten-lick of your tongue. she moans into your mouth, pulling you closer to her chest with frenzy of hands. “just make me come. okay, sweetheart? then we can, ahh, talk about what to do with you.”

vi chokes on a sob. her eyes, so blue, are staring at you pleadingly. “you’re so t-tight—unghhh! holy shit, i can’t, i can’t, i can’t,” she mindlessly babbles.

vi clearly doesn’t realize the strength in which she’s gripping onto your waist, because it’s hurting you, but right now you can’t even bring yourself to care enough. you’re consumed by the thought of her cock, excited to feel her come inside you, to stuff you full of her arousal. the pain at your waist stings pleasantly anyway, it makes your pussy clench around her cock harder and she gasps as if she’s been stabbed.

”shhh, i know it’s hard, baby. but you gotta—hnngh—hold it together for me, you gotta wait until i’m, ahh, ready to come. don’t you want to feel me come around your cock?”

vi’s chest is heaving and her face is flushed a deep, pretty candy-pink. she’s staring at you like you hung all the stars in the sky. she looks utterly debauched, completely lost in the feeling of your velvet heat squeezing her so fucking tight, but she nods obediently anyway. she’s the cutest thing you’ve ever seen.

”mmm, you can take it,” you say encouragingly, rubbing circles on her rosy nipples. vi’s head falls back against your headboard, moaning like she’s been gutted. you know she’s going to have a sore throat after this because she hasn’t been quiet once.

”ughh, mmmff, yes—“ vi’s moans are raspy and urgent. her breaths come out in sharp, staccato gasps and her eyelids flutter as she struggles to keep them open.

you hum pleasantly, pleased to see that you’re making vi feel so good, like she’s on another astral plane. sex with her is always intimate and passionate, despite how cruel you can often be.

vi puckers her lips, tilting her chin up to capture your own in a slow, deep kiss. it’s a stark contrast to the frantic, desperate kisses you shared earlier. your tongue traces the seam of vi’s lips, coaxing them apart, and then you’re slipping inside to stroke along vi’s own tongue, tasting her, savoring her.

vi whimpers into the kiss, her hands coming up to tangle in your hair, holding you close as she loses herself in the sensual slide of your mouths. she can taste herself on your tongue from an hour ago, when you had her cock down your throat. the lingering flavor of her own arousal mixes with the unique taste that is purely you, and it makes her head spin with desire.

pulling away, you pepper kisses down her neck—vi is sensitive everywhere, not just her cock. you suck more bruises into her flesh, laving your tongue over older marks that are beginning to fade away.

vi gasps sharply. she’s always been a sucker for neck kisses.

then, despite your numerous warnings this entire time, vi’s cock starts swelling as her orgasm approaches faster. you can feel her skin buzzing and you’re about to give her a piece of your mind, to remind her that you haven’t come yet, until she starts thrusting her hips up into your with abandon. you bite your tongue, holding onto her broad shoulders for dear life. your breasts bounce right in her face.

”yes, yes—oh my god, yes!” you cry, and you’re close, you can feel electricity starting in your toes and making its way up your body.

vi’s back is arching off your headboard, her toes are curling in the sheets. her toned body withers beneath you, the muscles in her arms flexing as she starts to lose herself in the intense pleasure radiating from her core.

“fuck me, fuck me—nghhh, fuck me!” vi is chanting, then her words dissolve into a soundless scream of ecstasy as her climax crashes over her.

vi’s entire body tenses up; she feels like a rock beneath you—hard muscles and all. her cock erupts like a volcano inside your pussy, jet after jet of white-hot come filling your womb. she’s shamelessly painting your insides white and her eyes are rolled back in bliss, her tongue lolling out of her mouth like a dumb puppy. she’s completely lost in the throes of her orgasm; she’s dizzy with the pleasure wracking her body.

you have no choice but to clench down hard on vi’s spasming cock, milking it for her entire creamy load. you grind down hard on her twitching shaft, taking every last inch of it inside your pussy. you want to feel vi’s come sloshing around in your stuffed cunt, you want to be absolutely filled with her essence.

vi’s cock gives a few more feeble pulses inside your hot, clenching cunt before finally starting to soften, the thick shaft slumping heavily against your stuffed walls.

that’s when you begin to orgasm on her cock, while she’s sensitive and exhausted, and vi lets out a sob when she feels your pussy walls contracting around her. it’s her punishment for coming before you. and you redouble your efforts, slamming your hips down with a brutal, punishing force that has the headboard slamming against the wall.

“ohhh, vi—mmf! feels so good, babe,” you moan, rolling your hips fast and uncoordinated. you’re grinding down on her so hard that you can feel her heavy balls slap against your ass, the ones that emptied her thick load inside you.

vi grips onto your waist, trying to pull you off her cock with hazy eyes, but you shove her hands away until you’re completely satisfied. vi lets out a garbled moan, her eyes rolling back in her head. every time you roll your hips and drop them into her lap, it sounds like you’re jumping in a puddle of rain outside; because vi’s lap is completely drenched in your wetness, her fat loads of come are messily spilling out around her cock, too much to fit inside you—making the mess even worse.

“fuuck—unngh!” vi sobs.

when you’re done, you collapse against vi’s chest. she looks utterly ruined, completely fucked out and satisfied in a way that makes your heart clench with possessive pride. vi sits there, utterly boneless and spent.

you don’t have the heart to be mad at her.

(2/4/25)

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shawtuzi · 2 months ago

Text

request: ‘Y/n showing her ass all on ig and ony fucks her shit up (and records it so he can show all her followers who really run shit🙂‍↔️)’

some more inspo vids: 1 & 2 & 3

ur mind is so powerful and that vid is *chef kiss* here you go nonnie hehe/// cw include: there’s actually a little bit of plot *gasp*, mentions of drinking, reader is a little tipsy throughout the story, protective!ony, oral f!receiving, unprotected sex, slight daddy kink, ony is a tease, dirty talk, praising, rough sex, creampie, rushed ending i’m sawry/// wc: 5.4k

“can you see my thong when i bend over?

ony’s eyes, that were previously fixated on the tv, flicked over to your form, pupils zooming in on the thin fabric of your thong that peeked out over your jeans. his full lips lifted into a smirk, teeth nibbling on his bottom lip. “yeah i can see it, don’t do too much bendin’ over.”

“yeah, yeah, whateverrrrr. the fit looks cute though right?” you did a little twirl for him, the obnoxious sounds of your heels clicking against the hardwood floor echoing throughout the room. ony paused his game, his eyes drinking in every inch of your outfit.

his pointer and middle fingers curled, beckoning you over to where he was sitting on the couch. as soon as you were in reach he yanked you onto his lap, your knees on either side of his thick thighs. “where are y’all heading to again?” he asked, tatted fingers trailing along the bare spots on your back.

your hands ran along his toned chest, his thin wife beater making it easy for you to feel every muscle and ridge. he always liked the way your long acrylics felt against his skin, it was almost comforting, in a way.

“we’re just gonna get some drinks, and then maybe go roller skating. nothin’ too crazy baby,” you’d lean in and give him a big smooch, but your lip combo was looking extraaaa perfect tonight.

his big hands cupped your ass over your jeans, before slowly moving up the play with the visible strings of your thong. “gonna be good tonight right? not gonna make me come up there and put nobody on a t-shirt right?”

ony knew you were as faithful as they came, and trusted you with everything in him, but what he did not trust was those thirsty sluts at the roller rink—especially the notorious connie springer. if he had a dollar for every time he heard about connie sweeping some girl off her skates he’d be a goddamn millionaire.

“don’t trip baby, it’s just gonna be me and the girls. if anyone tries it with me you’ll be the first to know,” and with that you were standing up. you bent over to give ony five featherlight kisses, careful not to mess up your lip gloss.

“be safe, i love you mama.”

“i love you more papa ❤︎”

( one mango margarita and three shots of tequila later . . . )

ony clutched his poor phone in irritation as he watched you act a complete fool on your instagram story. it started smooth at first, just a couple boomerangs and videos of you and your friends enjoying your time at the bar, but then he peeped that as he clicked through your story you seemed to be getting more and more lit.

what really did it for him was seeing you hang halfway out your friends car, your hips moving rather seductively as you shook your ass to the trap song that was playing over the stereo.

‘y/n, get your ass back in here! i’m not tryna get pulled over!’ he could hear your friend, who was the designated driver, say in annoyance.

you were already so lit and it’s only been an hour . . . what was he gonna do with you?

“ooou this girl is gonna be the death of me,” ony sighed, swiping over to the phone app. he looked over his contacts before clicking on ‘sun and stars ��’ aka you. the line rung six times before going to voicemail, but did that stop him from calling once more. on the fourth ring the line finally picked up, the sound of loud music and jumbled voices already giving poor ony a headache.

“babe?” he heard your cheery voice on the other end. wow, he hadn’t even realized how much he missed you until he heard your voice, his heart clenching at your missing presence. “hi baby, everything all right? i saw your story n’ it looks like you’re having a good time.”

“i ammmm, oh my gosh babe we gotta come here together sometime. i think s’like couples night or sum, everybody’s skating together and bein’ all sexy it’s making me miss youuuu.”

ony chuckled at the slurring in your voice, his thumb running over the tattoo of your name on the side of his pointer finger. fuck, he missed you.

it was quieter on your end of the line now, the loud music now nothing but a distant hum in the background. you must’ve went off to the bathroom to hear him better. “i miss you more, mama. n’ you know i can’t skate, i’d bust my ass every time!” he almost wanted to pout when you busted into a fit of giggles. oh how he wished he could hear your laugh in person.

“it’s okay, papa. m’gonna teach you and then we’ll be the sexiest couple in here,” you had a slight purr in your voice, and as shameless as it was, it did make ony’s dick jump a little. before he could say anything else you spoke once more, “i should get goin’ before they start looking for me. i’ll text you when i’m coming home, love you baby.”

ony’s head fell against the plushness of the couch, his lips turning into a frown. “i love you more, be good.” you giggled once more, promising that you’d be on your best behavior before hanging up, leaving onyankopon by himself once again. might as well make a little something for you to eat when you got home.

while ony whipped up something special for you at home, you were skating your heart out, doing all sorts of tricks n’ moves while your friends were fighting for their lives trying to keep from falling.

“yo, you’re pretty good.”

you nearly jumped out of your skin when you felt a hand on your shoulder, your body shrinking away out of instinct. any man’s touch that wasn’t ony made you wanna gag. seriously, like, who did these men think they were putting their grimy hands on you???

the man must’ve thought you were falling, because his grip on your shoulder tightened, pulling you closer to him. you hummed and moved a little to the side, the pace of your legs never faltering. once there was a safe distance between you and the stranger you finally spoke.

“thanks. i used to skate a lot when i was a kid,” your tone was short and dismissive. why was he even talking to you with this loud ass music in the background???you finally looked at him to get a good look at his face, and i’m assuming y’all already know who it is. sigh. you could already feel your buzz fading away.

you couldn’t deny that connie was handsome, but he wasn’t ony. no one could ever compete with your ony. whether it be looks, strength, book smarts, street smarts—anything the average human could do, onyankopon could do it better. at least that’s how it worked in your mind.

connie offered you a sweet smile, “do i know you? you look real familiar.”

“you might. i’m with onyankopon, i know y’all run in the same circles or whatever.” as you and connie talked the flash of someone’s phone hit you both, startling you the tiniest bit. you ignored it, deciding to keep the conversation with connie going until the song ended, but before you could even bid him farewell you heard your name being called numerous times.

your friends were standing at the entrance/exit of the rink, their skates now replaced with heels. you glanced at connie, muttering out a quick ‘see ya around’ before using a nearby railing to get out of the rink.

“that felt like the longest five minutes of my life,” you sighed, sitting on the nearest bench. “why do you guys look like that?” no one said anything, instead your phone was placed in front of your face, and what you saw made you actually gag.

it was a video of everyone in the rink skating to some rnb song, and there you were, front and center with connie by your side, his signature smirk gracing his lips.

“fucking ew! why do they have to get me, of all people, on candid camera with him? disgusting,” your nose was scrunched in disgust as you undid the laces to your skates. “ugh, i know right. let’s go do something else, i heard there’s gonna be a slide show not too far from hereeee. we should go there instead, yeah?” your best friend said, wiggling her phone in front of your face.

“a slide show? i don’t know girl, ony would be pissed. you know he don’t want me around that shit.” you knew your boyfriend well, and anything that had to do with a bunch of charged up men and expensive cars sounded like a bad situation to him, especially if he wasn’t there with you.

“don’t trip it’ll only be for like ten minutes, i promise. unless you wanna be lame and get dropped off”, your friend teased, and that had you pouting. you wanted to be good and listen to your boyfriend, but you also didn’t want the night to end quite yet.

“i got a blunt we can smoke on the way thereee,” your friend added. now that peaked your interest.

“well . . .”

[ 8 missed calls from my love ❤︎ ]

[ 6 new messages from my love ❤︎ ]

my love ❤︎ : please tell me you’re not where i think you are.

my love ❤︎ : baby answer the phone

my love ❤︎ : answer now or i’m coming up there.

my love ❤︎ : i’m omw.

“this fuckin’ girl,” ony sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. he knew you wanted to have a fun night with your friends, but this was an absolute no no for him. you not answering your phone, but still posting on your instagram story didn’t make things any better either.

he found the nearest parking spot he could and jumped out of the car, his feet moving before he could even lock the car. it seemed the slide show had turned into a party type of situation, groups of people and nice cars scattered throughout the street. he whipped out his phone, pulling up the find my app to pinpoint your exact location.

after ten minutes of searching and bland, one minute conversations with his friends, onyankopon finally found you. you were dancing to music playing from someone’s car, your behind backed up against your friends front. if he wasn’t so irritated with you, he would’ve stayed a few minutes longer in that spot to watch you dance some more.

you looked breathtaking, per usual. all the gold jewelry you were wearing had you looking like a walking goddess—his goddess.

ony took his time walking over to you. he could feel a smirk fighting its way onto his lips at the thought of your poor little face realizing you were somewhere you certainly shouldn’t be.

“y’all cute,” he called out in his most sarcastic tone. your body froze, panic flooding through your veins. fuck, has it been more than ten minutes?

you stood up straight, your bloodshot eyes connecting with ony’s chocolate ones. “h-hey baby! what’re you doin’ here?” your body was stiff as you walked over to him, careful not to trip over your heels. once he was in arms reach you fell into his chest, his musky, natural scent igniting a warmth in your lower half.

everything around you was muffled, all you could focus on was the steady beat of onyankopon’s heart. suddenly, he pulled away, muttering something about you hopping on his back. with little strength you jumped up, wrapping your arms around his neck, and your legs around his waist.

you turned to your friends, offering them a weak wave as ony carried you away, not saying a word. once you both made it to the car, he carefully set you inside, and adjusted your limbs so he was able to buckle you up.

the second he got in the car you turned to him, your lips pulled into a pout. “how drunk are you right now, babe?” he asked, taking your chin between his fingers to examine your face.

“i’m more high than drunk, but i’m fine, i don’t feel sick or nothin’,” your voice was quiet as you spoke, your hooded eyes looking anywhere but at him. “are you mad at me ony?” your eyes finally locked with his.

ony shook his head, “i am, but it’s okay we’ll get it sorted out at home. drink some of that water for me.” your eyes flicked to the water bottle that was dripping with condensation in the console. it looked heavenly to say the least.

the drive home was quiet besides the music playing quietly in the background, and you taking a few gulps of water every now and again. ony’s hand was glued to the thickness of your thigh the entire time, squeezing the jean covered flesh every couple of minutes.

he was silent when he parked the car in front of your apartment building, and he was silent on the way up to the apartment. he was quiet as church mouse when he helped you take off your heels, his lips pressing soft kisses your ankles when he took each heel off, and he was still silent when he helped you take off your top, leaving you in your bra and jeans.

ony knelt between your spread legs, his hands gripping onto your thighs for stability. “before i go ahead, just tell me one thing, did you have fun, baby?” his eyes softened as he waited for your response. you nodded, a small smile coming onto your lips.

“that’s good, i’m glad you had fun. now can you tell me why you were all the way in the city and not answering your phone?” his thick brow raised up, awaiting your response.

you nibbled on your bottom lip, the lip combo you were so proud of hours ago now smudged away. “we were sick of the roller rink, and jasmine heard about this slide show happening in the city sooo we went down there just to see what was going on. i tried saying no, i really did, baby, but then she bribed me with a blunt and full control of the aux so i caved.” your fingers began to fiddle with his own.

“i’m so sorry i didn’t answer i just a little too, um, immersed in my activities. and i’m sorry about the connie thing—”

“wait. what connie thing?”

your lips pulled into a straight line, your eyes squeezing shut in defeat. why, oh why did you have to bring that up?

“y/n, talk to me. use your words,” ony’s thumbs rubbed little circles into your thighs, silently telling you he’s not angry, and will not get angry at your response. he knew better than to think you tried anything with connie, he just wanted to know out of pure curiosity.

“well, since you asked—that lame came and talked to me. he be acting all nice n’ shit like everybody don’t know how much of a dog he really is.” ony couldn’t help but laugh at the scrunched up look on your face as you talked about it.

“and i guess the roller rink has an insta page or something, because next thing you know there’s a video of me and constance skating together. he followed me and liked everything on my story not even a half hour later—the man has zero shame! like, how’re you gonna waste my friends time, then come onto me like she’s not my friend and i don’t have a boyfriend?! granted, he only did say hi and complimented my skating but—”

ony could only smirk as you tipsily babbled about connie, and eventually moved on to a whole different topic. he didn’t interrupt you, instead he let you ramble on and looked at you with nothing but infatuation in his eyes.

suddenly your phone pinged, a notification from instagram popping up on your lock screen. “mmcht, speak of the devil,” you grabbed your phone, and opened the notification, showing ony exactly what you were talking about.

connie_springer replied to your story: i hope to see u again next time. we barley talked

ony read the message three times, his lips quirking into a playful smile. “‘barley’ . . . illiterate bitch.” it was silent for a few beats before you both burst into giggles.

now, you don’t exactly remember who initiated the kiss, but somehow ony managed to kiss you breathless, pinning you to the bed while his lips hungrily chased your own. his thumb pushed down on your chin, widening your lips just enough for him to slip his tongue inside your mouth.

“missed you baby,” he muttered against your lips. you tasted like spiked lemonade and strawberry gloss, an odd yet, salivating combo. you responded with a moan, your leg lifting up to wrap loosely around his waist.

“i wanna fuck.”

onyankopon grinned, his nose playfully nudging against yours. “all that liquor and weed went straight to your pussy hm?” his tone was teasing as he blindly reached between your bodies to undo the button of your jeans. “turn over, wanna take you from the back.” ony pecked your lips three times before helping you turn over, his strong hands moving towards your hips a second later to lift you to your knees.

the view before ony’s eyes was perfect.

you smiled when you saw a flash behind you—onyankopon loved taking him some pictures of his pretty girlfriend. you whipped your head around, your eyes flicking to ony’s concentrated one’s.

“you still mad at me baby?” you purred, playfully sticking your ass out more. a whine bubbled in your throat when you felt his bulge press right against your ass. ony kissed his teeth, “be quiet, y’know i wasn’t even mad in the first place. now look at the camera.”

you looked directly in the camera, you fluttered your lashes and gave him a tiny smirk before he took at least thirty pics of you in the same position. “beautiful . . .” you heard him mutter. you grinned, your cheeks heating up at the compliment.

“mm, you should post it that. connie follows you right? i think it’ll be funny.”

“what do you think i’m doin’, mama?” ony flashed you a smile, his fingers typing furiously at his phone before tossing it to the side. your phone dinged, a notification from instagram popping up. “d-did you tag me?” your breath hitched when ony tugged your jeans in one swift motion, the waistband now on the backs of your jeans.

ony knelt down, now eye level with your panty clad pussy. “i did, but you can look at that later,” was all he said before tugging your thong to the side, his warm tongue cupping your clit with quickness. you hummed in content, your face nuzzling into the comforter. ony traced slow, gentle circles around your clit, his tongue swiping down every couple of seconds to collect more of your essence on his tongue.

“f-fuck babe.” ony could hear your tiny voice whine, your hips now back and forth. he kissed your clit one last time before kissing his way up your pussy, his tongue slipping into your cunt with ease. his thumb replaced his tongue, rubbing tight, little circles on your clit.

onyankopon wasn’t shy to let you know that he liked giving you head. in just mere minutes he’d be moaning into your pussy and caressing your thighs delicately, mumbling little praises every now and again just to make sure you got the hint hehe.

your back arched when he rubbed the middle of his tongue, the softest part of it in your humble opinion, sloppily against your clit, dribbles of your essence now dripping off his chin and onto his chest. “yeah, y-yeah, keep doing that and i’ma cum,” your breath quickened, your eyes rolling back as the coil in your stomach got tighter n’ tighter.

“mmph, yeah? you gonna cum in my mouth baby? lemme hear you,” ony’s thumb pushed the skin above your clit up, exposing it even more to his skillful tongue. “y-yes on—y!” your kiss bitten lips dropped open, back arching impossibly deep when you felt his fingers pinch your clit.

“try that again, what’s my name? whose mouth are you gonna cum on?” as tipsy as you were, your cheeks still went hot at the mention of his ‘bedroom name’. truly you weren’t into calling men daddy at first, it put a sour taste in your mouth—but then ony came along. sure you called him ‘pa’ and ‘papa’ occasionally but this just felt . . . different. he didn’t push you into calling him anything during sex, only suggesting it, and you were sure you’d never even think to call him daddy . . . until one night, when he had you folded up, your spent pussy pulsing around his dick as you chanted his new name like a prayer.

“i-i’m, i’m gonna cum on your m-mouth *huff*, daddy.”

“atta girl,” ony hummed, wrapping his lips around your swollen clit. his middle and ring fingers slipped into your clenching entrance, immediately bumping into that spot that had you squealing. he would’ve made you cum whether you called him daddy or not, he just liked to fuck with you when you got like this. so annoying.

your thighs began to shake, your orgasm approaching closer and closer. “hah! hah! f-fuck m’cumminggg.” ony pushed your weight forward, his face burrowing into your pussy as he slurped and sucked up your cum like it was the finest wine he’d even tasted.

he licked you through your orgasm until you were whining oh so cutely in overstimulation. he wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, his tongue running over his lips just to make sure he didn’t miss anything.

“fix that arch,” ony grunted, tugging his sweats down in one swift motion, his achingly hard dick springing free. you mewled, fixing your position as you mentally prepared for the insane dicking you were about to receive.

he bent down, pressing one, two, three soft kisses across your waist. “you’re so pretty, look at me one more time,” you felt his warm hand squeeze your waist as he spoke, his words laced with love and adoration. you slowly craned your neck to look at him. your eye makeup was already becoming a little streaky, and your lips were all swollen—probably from biting them so hard.

“thank you baby, but with all due respect save the sappy shit for the aftercare, i need your dick now,” your tone was playful, but he could tell you really needed it by the way your hips started to shimmy. ony grinned, his hand reaching down to grip his leaking cock. he slapped it against your ass cheeks a few times before slipping himself between your folds, your wetness and warmth embracing him like the universes’ warmest hug.

he hissed, his teeth catching onto his bottom lip when he felt your hand press his cock impossibly close to your pussy. you could feel the dull throb of him against your clit, and it had you feeling dizzier than any liquor ever could.

“put it in, baby. i need it,” you whined into the comforter. your clit had a heartbeat in it so aggressive, it was borderline painful at this point. ony had had just about enough of his teasing too, because he fulfilled your wishes and filled you up with his dick the second you finished speaking. he was in to the hilt, your pussy gripping him like a vice as you tried to adjust to his size.

he pulled out less than halfway before slowly pushing back in. he did that over and over until he began a steady rhythm. “you’d think after all the times we done fucked you wouldn’t be this fuckin’ tight,” he grunted, slapping your right ass cheek with force.

ony noticed you becoming greedy for more, your hips seeming to have a mind of their own as you tried to match his slow strokes with quicker, sloppier movements. he fisted the flimsy of your thong, careful not to rip it. “slow. the fuck. down.” he growled in between strokes, making sure you felt each puncture of his dick against your cervix.

he tongued the inside of his cheek, thinking to himself for a moment before halting his movements. he puckered his lips, letting a glob of spit fall onto your untouched hole. he felt your body tense, a smirk coming onto his lips as he watched the spit trickle down and mix in with the creamy mess that was you.

before you could whine about his lack of thrusts, he started up a steady pace again, eventually getting faster and harder as the minutes ticked by. “you like that?” he grunted, using his free hand to push your head further into the mattress. you nodded as best as you could, “y-yes, daddy, i fu—huckin’ love ittt.”

you felt him in your stomach, your chest, your fucking head. you felt it everywhere—all your senses consumed by him.

in between his brutal strokes ony had a sudden need, he wanted a kiss. without stopping the rolls of his hips, he pushed your lower half down, his arm wrapping itself around your neck to prop your head up. your eyes rolled into the back of your skull, a line of drool slipping from your trembling lips and onto the comfort that was already soaked with your tears.

his pace switched from fast to slow, his hips snapping against your backside rather roughly with each thrust. “kiss me,” you heard him whisper into your ear, his hot tongue lolling out to lick over the shell of your ear.

“come on, baby. you can do it. jus’ turn your head a lil to the left and give your ony a kiss.” it took literally every ounce of strength you had to turn your head, but you succeeded and got rewarded with a very sloppy kiss. he sucked on your bottom lip, and then your tongue. his kisses tasted tart from previously devouring your pussy.

your feet thrashed against the bed, a moan getting caught in your throat as your second orgasm of the night hit you like a semi—unexpectedly mind you. ony pressed his pelvis harshly against your ass, his hips moving in slow circles to draw your orgasm as long as possible.

“can’t— *hiccup* c-can’t take anymore pa,” you sniffled, fat tears rolling your puffy cheeks. ony kissed you, long and slow, before pulling away. “yeah you can, stay like that,” he muttered, pushing himself up. his thighs were on either side of your hips, his dick still snuggly sheathed inside your aching cunt.

his hands squeezed at your ass cheeks, spreading them so he could get a view at the way your pussy gripped him. your mouth parted in a silent scream when he pushed his hips forward, his cock sliding an extra inch deeper. “too deep, ony! t-too deep,” you panted, your manicured hand reaching behind you to slap against his lower stomach.

“keep your hand there, s’not gonna stop me, baby. it never does,” he breathlessly chuckled, rolling his hips. something felt off. very, very off, like you were about to—

ony was slightly taken aback by your force as you pushed his hips back, his soaked cock slipping out as a flood of your cum hit the sheets. he could only watch in awe as your hand reached between your thighs, fingers sloppily rubbing circles around your clit. you didn’t really know were doing in that moment, but it just felt right. the giant coil in your tummy had finally unraveled, leaving you a gasping, sobbing mess as you rode out your second unexpected orgasm.

your body slumped against the mattress, your soaked thighs twitching violently. “what the fuck . . . i didn’t know you could do that,” ony muttered, his fingers swiping against the puddle formed on the sheets. you shrugged and shook your head. shit, you didn’t know you could do that either!

onyankopon scooted off the bed with shaky legs. he gently tugged your jeans off the rest of the way before turning you over. “just need you to hold on a little bit longer, mama. just need to make me cum, n’ then we’re done, okay? use your words so i know you’re good.” his fingers tapped at your jaw, signaling you to speak.

your lashes fluttered open, “m’good ony, wanna make you cum now.” onyankopon gave you a little smile, his eyes never once leaving yours as he set your ankles over his shoulders. he turned his head, giving both of your ankles a kiss. “my pretty baby,” he whispered, his hand reaching down to give his dick a few pumps.

he tapped the tip against your clit, smearing any leaking pre against your folds before slipping in with ease. you both moaned in unison, and funnily enough your noses both scrunched up the same way from being connected once more. you wrapped your arms around his neck, pulling the tiniest bit to let him know you’d like to be closer.

ony obliged, adjusting himself so he was able to lean down and be closer to you. the new angle had him hitting deeper, each thrust damn near knocking the air out of your poor lungs. “hah, love you, baby,” he panted, messily pressing his lips against yours. you cradled his face in your hands, your legs wrapping tightly around his slim waist. “love you more, daddy.”

ony groaned, his face nuzzling in your neck a second later to contain his whines. “inside? can i?” you heard him whine into your neck, his rhythm getting sloppier each time he pulled out. you nodded furiously, begging and pleading him like a lil slut to cum inside you that moment.

ony let out his first vocal moan of the night, his hand slapping beside your head to fist at the comforter. you felt a sudden warmth inside you and sighed contently, your legs tightening around his waist to keep him in place. he spent the next couple of minutes pathetically humping into your pussy, relishing in the aftershocks of his orgasm.

his grip on the sheets loosened, his body relaxing completely into yours. “ugh, baby, you’re so heavy,” you whined, pushing at his broad shoulders. ony only hummed, not moving an inch, and after multiple attempted to push him off you did the only thing you could do.

“hah! babe, d-don’t do that,” ony hissed, finally lifting his head up. you narrowed your eyes, clenching around his softened dick again, “then get the heck off me.” he sighed dramatically, pressing one last kiss to your neck before pushing himself up.

“all warm, mama?” ony hummed, wrapping your favorite fluffy towel around your bare body. you nodded, your mouth parting in a yawn. man were you ready to go the hell to bed.

after ony found his strength he got up and forced you into the shower with him, despite your whines and protest of being ‘too tired’. he held you for the first ten minutes, clutching onto your body as if you’d slip away while the hot water cascaded down your bodies. he then took his time washing your body, making sure no skin was left untouched before quickly doing himself.

now it was finally time for cuddles and, most importantly, time for bed.

he carried you to bed, of course, carefully laying you down on your side and tucking you in. when he got into bed you immediately latched to his side, your head finding its rightful place on his chest.

“shit, forgot i posted this,” ony chuckled showing you the story he had tagged you in an hour prior to your . . . activities. you examined the picture, a lazy smile making its way into your lips. “my ass looks so fat in this, good job babe.” you pat him on the chest a few times, your lips parting from yet another yawn.

“mm, you’re welcome, baby. not get some sleep, n’ make sure to dream about me,” he chuckled, giving your forehead three kisses.

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