#maeve smut | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

gorgeys · 5 months ago

Text

kinda pervy!queen maeve x femsupe!reader

sorry this is so long but i finished season 3 and had to get this out of my system. maeve come home the kids miss you.

and pls more ppl write for her 🙏🙏

she doesn't want to be like this. she really doesn't. but as you sit down at your new seat across from her at your first seven meeting, all of her morals fly right out the window.

you're smiling up at homelander as he introduces you, but all maeve can see are your hands attempting to pull the low cut neckline of your suit up to cover more of your tits. your suit's brand new and, like starlight's, shows more skin than your previous one which takes some getting used to on your end.

vought's costume department also made quite a few mistakes so your new suit is basically a size too small. it's the world's best push-up bra, giving maeve so much to look at. but it's the small opening of your suit over your rib cage that really gets her. it shows just the teeniest big of your underboob and it's already driving her wild.

you're already not leaving up to imagination, but still, she wants to reach across the table and rip the black leather right off of you. she wants to run her cold hands all over your chest and make your nipples turn hard under her thumbs. she wants to grope and squeeze your tits and watch as your face morphs between pain and pleasure.

when you look over at her, you finally notice that she's been staring at you with what appears to be the meanest death glare you've ever seen. she's leaning forward with her elbows on the table and a clenched jaw as if you're her next target. you look away quickly, already scared of her. you just hoped she didn't hate you. she was your idol after all. oh, if you only knew what she was thinking.

you're too pre-occupied to notice, but every time you leave the conference room after a meeting, she always walks behind you. of course, it's not an accident. nothing she does is an accident.

she notices that whenever you walk in front of one of the boys (especially the deep), your hands constantly rest along the hem of your skirt which barely covers your bare ass, ready to pull it down and obstruct their prying eyes. but with her, you don't seem to care. it's probably because you think that you're both girls so you don't have anything to worry about. little do you know she's the worst of them all.

her eyes constantly peek beneath your skirt, hoping to catch a glimpse of something. a couple times she does get lucky and sees a bit of your white or pink cotton underwear. one time she gets really lucky and instead catches your black lace panties and wonders who you could be wearing those for. it's moments like those where she hopes you know she's looking. she wants you to wear those for her, no one else.

but most days she's not that fortunate. instead she just watches the sway of your hips and ass as you both walk over to the elevator. again, she wants to run her hands all over you and feel every single curve. she visualizes herself squeezing your ass and whispering in your ear how soft and smooth your skin is. then she imagines bending you over something so she can see all of you.

but then you enter the elevator and turn around and smile sweetly at her. having spent enough time in the seven, you know she won't ever smile back, but it doesn't really bother you. you've accepted that's just who she is. meanwhile, she contemplates pressing the emergency stop button, slamming you against the wall, and shoving her fingers so far inside of you that your brain goes fuzzy and tears are slipping down your pretty cheeks.

it's that same thought that keeps her awake at night. she can almost hear your whines and moans echoing in her head. she can hear you begging to cum all over her face and promising you'll be a good girl for her. you're so loud in her head that she can't help but reach under her shorts and rub circles on her clit as she whispers your name into her pillow. she thinks about fucking you so often that, to her, it feels like it's really happened.

one time she comes back late from a team-up and, on her way toward her room, peeks into the training room to find you practicing moves on a punching bag. she stops and just watches through the window for a second. your back is to her but your hair is up and she can see the sweat dripping off your neck, some of it hitting the mat beneath your feet. she wonders what it tastes like. probably salty, but also sweet because it's you after all. she'd lick your sweat right off your neck in long stripes. she'd probably lick it off the floor too if she was feeling extra thirsty.

she's torn. she's tired and you look tired and if homelander catches her, he'll know something strange is going on. but as you turn slightly toward her and use your tank top to wipe some sweat of your forehead, she makes her decision.

"hey" she says, leaning against the door frame. you whip your head around and are more than surprised to see her of all people with her arms crossed over her chest and a smug half smile. "need a training partner?"

you weren't going to say no to this uncharacteristically kind offering, even if you were just about to head upstairs. so you're jumping around the mat at nearly midnight, dodging her blows and getting in a few licks of your own. you're a pretty good fighter, but not as good as her, so it's not long before she has you pinned to the mat with one forearm against both your shoulders.

your chest is heaving beneath her arm and your mouth is slightly open. she's never been this close to you before. she feels like she's on fucking fire, feeling herself on top of you like this and feeling her skin against yours. she would've been able to control herself if you weren't staring into her eyes like that, looking a little dazed but excited. who can blame her for closing the distance and kissing you like there's no tomorrow?

you're beyond shocked. more like stupefied. you'd never even had an inkling that she had thought of you in this way. in fact, you assumed she wanted to kill you sometimes. but the way she kissed you so hard and dug her teeth in your bottom lip made you want her so badly that you could feel your panties growing wet.

with your little crush on her, you thought about this moment sometimes and assumed she'd be rough but my god she was rough with you that first time. she barely let you move, keeping you completely pinned to the mat with one arm while the other snuck beneath your skirt.

"you don't even know how long i've been waiting for this," she whispers into your ear as her fingers push your panties to the side. she's instantly assaulting your clit in fast, tight circles, leaving you writhing beneath her, though there's not much wiggle room between your bodies.

"maeve, what if somebody sees?" you ask between quiet whines. what a suck up you were, constantly trying to gain points with the other members of the seven in hopes of gaining more power. she especially hated the way you sucked up to homelander, always grinning at him and laughing at his stupid, gross jokes with hearts in your eyes. a small part of her wanted him to see her fucking you so good.

"you'll keep taking my fingers, goody fucking two shoes," she says through gritted teeth before shoving a finger inside of you with no warning, causing your back to arch up and off of the mat. "good girl, baby."

after that night, there's less staring and imagining but more touching and doing. her hand grazes your ass when you pass each other in the hallway. she pretends to swat a fly away from your chest and ends up smacking one of your tits. it always ends with that same no-good smile.

you try your best to only end the night in maeve's room if homelander's out on a mission, but she grows impatient. you're an addiction and every little taste she gets leaves her wanting more. she especially gets handsy when you've spent a lot of unnecessary time with homelander.

"y'think he can fuck you like this?" she asks, her strap buried deep inside of you. you're sat on the kitchen counter, your legs wrapped around her waist and hands tangled in her hair as she relentlessly pounds into you, pushing you toward your third orgasm. you moan a "no" into her shoulder before biting down on her skin. "yeah, that's what i thought. if i see you touching him again, i swear i'll strip you naked and fuck you in front of him. now cum before i change my mind and don't let you."

she once threatened to make you wear a vibrator to one of the seven meetings after you came back from a team-up with homelander's arm around your shoulders. but, after a lot of begging and time spent on your hands and knees feverishly eating her out, maeve finally forgot about the idea. he would've probably seen it anyways.

but, one of, if not her favorite time fucking you is on a random sunday when homelander's out doing day-time talk show interviews. she drags you into the seven conference room and sits in homelander's chair at the head of the table.

"feels good, does it, baby?" you say, sitting on the edge of the table in front of her, reaching underneath your skirt and shimmying your panties off.

she sighs a sigh of accomplishment and leans her head back against the chair without taking her hungry eyes off of you. "feels fucking fantastic."

then she's rolling her chair forward, locking her arms around your thighs, and pulling your pussy toward her mouth. you lie back on the table with your legs over her shoulders and moan maeve's name as her lips enclose your clit and suck harshly. she shushes you but with her lips against your cunt, the vibrations only leave you struggling to compose yourself.

the rush of power from eating you out in homelander's chair makes her hungrier than ever and she laps you up quickly, collecting your juices on her tongue and swallowing proudly to avoid leaving behind a mess. "you taste better than ever, baby," she says, licking her lips before leaning down to give you a chaste kiss.

everything's going well until one fateful meeting when homelander's getting on your ass about some dumb little thing you said in an interview that's been twisted by fans and is now trending on twitter. he was talking to you like you were a mentally unstable infant and it was starting to piss maeve off.

"hey, cool it, homelander," she interrupts him mid-sentence as he ranted on about your "tiny pea brain." he turns his face, which was inches away from yours, toward maeve who was coolly leaned back in her chair. they had a stern staring contest for a few moments before something inside of him snapped.

"just cause y/n's slutting herself out to you doesn't mean you have to be her lesbian knight in shining armor, maeve." maeve was far better at hiding her shock than you were. "yeah i fucking knew about you two. don't think you can hide anything from me."

and that was when your secret arrangement turned into a very public one. you would be lucky to escape this situation with your life. luckily maeve would never let you go without a fight.

#queen maeve x reader #queen maeve #queen maeve x fem!reader #wlw #the boys #wlw smut #maeve #queen maeve smut #the boys x reader #the boys smut #the seven #queen maeve x you #the boys x you

440 notes · View notes

leeharkerd · 5 months ago

Text

warnings: public sex, mentions of fisting, overstimulation, pussy inspections, thigh-riding, impact play, sex toys, bondage mentions?, possessiveness, rimming, masturbation, crying during sex, hair pulling, deepthroating, slut-shaming, this shit is so ooc but i could care less

exhibitionist!queen maeve who backs you up into any corner or wall at any chance she gets to push her muscled thigh between your own, testing your desperation and need for her in public "dont want people to hear us do you? for people to catch us? so do us both a favor and keep quiet." you could feel your own juices covering her thigh, but she kept at it. continuing to flex her thigh against your pussy until you finally came.

mean!queen maeve who slutshames you to humiliate you, putting her cigarettes out on your thighs. "you like being my ashtray, hm?" her big, veiny hands parting your legs to tease you through your panties as she groans mixed insults and praises. she wants to work you to the edge, see how fucking far you go but she knows you cant handle it. "come on look at me." she slaps your clothed clit harshly to get your attention but it just fucking tips you over, and you cum right then and there. shes surprised, but that doesnt keep her from rubbing you. "let me hear you. let me hear how much you like being fucked and slapped around like you're nothing. don't you have any self respect? any dignity? or are you just a whore? a whore, made to be used hm?"

possessive!queen maeve who bends you over any counter to inspect your pussy, making sure nobody has ever touched you besides herself. opening up your lips and poking and prodding at your open cunt, licking her lips as she pushes a finger or two in, listening to the way you whine and squeeze around her fingers. saying that "shes only ever wanted the best for you" while fucking your cunt with 3 fingers, her other hand grabbing your ass to hold you in place as you writhe. you shake and cry as she presses her thumb to rub your clit, wanting you to tell her that you'll never let anyone use you besides her. "your pussy was made for my fingers, they just fit so perfect. just makes me wonder how many i could fit, if i could maybe even fit my whole fuckin' hand in here." making it known that shes the only one who could touch and fuck you the way she does, the only one who knows how to play with you.

(CONSENSUAL) perverted!queen maeve who will stare at you like youre fucking meat. grope your tits while youre making the bed, only for her to finger your cunt until youre gushing onto her palm. she'll come up behind you while youre cleaning, pulling her arms around your waist and slipping her hands beneath the waistband of your panties. "i bet you'd let me fuck you anywhere, bend you over anything." she says, her big hand cupping your pussy just so perfectly as she rubs your clit to completion. sometimes she'll even run her hands over the arch of your back and down to your ass while youre making dinner, pulling your pants down to your ankles as she drops to her knees to run her tongue over your perfect little hole. she'd even go as far to masturbate in the living room while you're watching tv "look don't touch" making you stare at her as she runs her own hands over her nipples, as she pushes a finger deep into her own pussy as you watch and listen.

pathetic!queen maeve who whines as she sucks on your clit, because shes just so damn desperate to please you. her hands clasp around your thighs and youre sure its gonna mark so you grab her hair, craning her head back so you can get a better look at her face. her mascara is running down her cheeks, your juices smeared around her lips, and all she can do is just look at you with the most pathetic puppy eyes ever. "all..all i ever want is you." soon enough you have her sprawled out on the bed, a vibrating bullet buried deep into her pussy, and all she can do is strain against the restraints as the toy brings her to climax."i just want...want to make you happy." later, shes back to her knees, crying as you push your fake cock deep into her throat. when you pull away from her all she does is push her face up closer to you, the spit-covered cock up against her cheek now.

touch starved!queen maeve who cums in a solid 3 minutes after not being with anyone in almost 5 years, shes almost embarrassed until you work her right up to another one. she's crying, tiny little tear drops leaving her eyes as she cums once more, and all she can do is beg. "pleasepleaseplease- fuck me again, i-i can take more." and she's desperate, really, you know that. but how can you fucking deny her when shes begging like that?

okay so this isnt the stuff i usually write, but ive been SOOO obsessed with her lately. yes i know there is grammar mistakes i wrote this so late at night so bear with me...if its that bad put it in grammarly <3

#queen maeve smut #queen maeve #the boys #the boys smut #queen maeve x reader #wlw post #smut

379 notes · View notes

animasola86 · 13 days ago

Text

F o r g e t f u l 🎀 1 / 4

Your roommate has a dirty secret - you. The only problem is: you can't remember anything about that. And there might be even more problems when you realize just what kind of relationship you have with her.

a dominant woman X a submissive girl with a memory problem

WARNINGS: F!Reader-insert! NSFW! Explicit sexual content. Mistress/pet. Domme/sub. Memory loss. Manipulation. Gaslighting. Praise kink. Dubcon elements. Fingering. Sex toys. Object insertion. Bondage. (More tags on AO3.) WORDS: 5.5k

A/N: Remember: if these tags are not for you, you better turn back now! If you know my other stories, you may be used to my very explicit writing style, but this is still some of the darker stuff, somewhat. It's rough, but there is an actual wlw story buried beneath the depravity, I swear! And: THIS IS FICTION! Nobody got hurt in the making of this series. (By the way, the header is just for aesthetics, it's up to you to decide how Mistress looks like and obviously Reader looks however you want to insert her. I tried my best to keep her neutral.) Another note on the fandom tags: I write characters who could be anyone, so I thought about some kick-ass ladies who may fit the role here. I'm sorry this is not about your favorite character, but maybe it can still somewhat fit? Give it a try :)

1 🎀 2 🎀 3 🎀 4

You're staring at the pictures with your lips parted and trembling, your cheeks warm, a strange tingle in your nape. Your hands are shaking as you file through the prints. They look weirdly professional, good lighting, even better angles, the background is blurry while the focus lies directly on...

You.

It's you in those photographs, you in various positions, you in different outfits... or with nothing at all hiding your curves. Some pictures are just showing certain body parts, some angles you've never seen of yourself, some more flattering than others.

But whatever you see, you can't hide the fact that it arouses you. It's not the subject, you're usually quite self-conscious about taking nudes of yourself (even though you gotta admit that these look quite well made, so surreal that you feel almost proud of yourself), it's actually two things that make your core throb:

One: you are in clearly compromising positions, bent over with your legs spread wide, on your back, bound to the bed with cuffs around your wrists and ankles, or tied up with soft-looking rope in intricate patterns, your body composed in ways you haven't thought possible (or comfortable).

And two: you are always stuffed. There are various objects sticking out of both your cunt and your ass, sometimes there's even something in your mouth that's held open by a spider gag. It varies too, not all holes are occupied all the time, all at once, in some pictures it's just one and it's particularly stuffed and stretched (is that an eggplant?).

Your body reacts more and more as you flip through the thick printed paper. The worst thing about it all:

You can't remember a goddamn thing!

Shame and arousal course through you as you stare at yourself. But you can't put them down, can't stop. In this photo, you're wearing a black leather harness that accentuates your breasts. You're standing, with wide legs, a spreader bar attached to your ankles. You're blindfolded, your arms tied behind your back. It's a series of pictures, you realize.

First from the front, then from the back (your ass cheeks look great with how they're pushed up by the leather straps). You notice something shiny between them: a butt plug with a sparkly diamond base. It's glowing, or blinking as you see in the next picture where the light is gone.

Your insides convulse a little, your muscles clenching around nothing. It's like looking at porn, but you can't ignore the familiarity about the body portrayed. It is undoubtedly yours.

But then again: you've never had anything up your ass, not in your conscious state at least. But here (and in those other pics) you have, and the next print even shows a close-up of the plug in your ass. It's a strangely aesthetic photo considering the unflattering motif and angle, but it certainly does things to you. Though you can't be sure if the tension in your stomach comes from embarrassment, excitement or sheer terror at the revelation that somebody took these pictures of you – and you can't even remember it.

Swallowing hard, you pry your eyes from the prints, your hands still shaking, as you look around the room. Somebody can only be one person. Your gaze scrapes over the shelves around you, full of camera equipment, old-fashioned film containers next to a plastic box full of SD-cards, various lenses and other extras, and then the cameras themselves, three at least, behind glass doors, kept away, like the pictures you found in a large brown envelope hiding in a drawer.

You've been looking for some hair ties, an innocent search, knowing your roommate wouldn't mind, but now you feel as if you've stepped into a different world, uncovering secrets you should have never known about. Even if they are about you.

Taking a shuddering breath, you look back at the pictures in your hands, your cheeks positively aflame now as you trace the blurry lines of your body before the focus shifts to a close-up of your cunt, shiny and reddened, your clit swollen, with black clamps attached to your pussy lips, thin metal chains disappearing off to the sides, holding your folds open while something black and girthy vanishes into your body.

The next pictures show a white-gloved hand gripping the base of the dildo, and you flip quicker through the sheets to create the motion, seeing the toy going in and out of your cunt, guided by the anonymous hand, spreading your core, diving in to retreat with an extra layer of shine before disappearing again, and as you stare at the prints, you can almost feel it moving inside you, a faint memory as your muscles clench and unclench, your arousal building up before it drips into your underwear.

You are torn between being very horny upon seeing these pictures and utterly disturbed. If you could only remember these scenes, then it wouldn't be as bad. But you can't. There's nothing, only fog that slips through your mind's imaginary fingers as you try to catch it, as you try to make sense of this. You feel your heart beating faster while your eyes tear up from staring unblinkingly at the prints in your hands.

This can't be real. Confusion merges with betrayal, your belly feels tense, your heart clenches in rhythm with your walls, your throat closes up as the first tear spills from your lashes.

You let go of the pictures, watching them scatter over the desk and down to the floor, every angle of your body on display, every inch captured in embarrassing detail, your holes filled or gaping, your mouth gagged or stuffed or open, there's drool, there are tears, there's wetness glistening on your skin in almost every shot. Your eyes may be the scariest part staring up at you. They're either glazed over, unfocused, or rolled back and hooded, some bloodshot, some watery, and some look almost defiant, a moment captured in time where you seemingly fought back?

The ones where you're blindfolded are the least terrifying, those are the ones where you can dissociate, where you can imagine somebody else being tied to whatever surfaces there are, tables, benches, beds, chairs, artfully presented, where it's just a body, clad in sexy lingerie and high heels, or adorned with ropes, or in the moments after where the skin is dented by the intricate patterns left behind by the ties.

The close-ups are also getting to you. You've never seen your own cunt or ass up close like this, so again, it could be anyone's holes filled and spread and used by various objects. The sheer amount and variety of them is quite concerning. But it's the unconventional ones that make you shiver, that create that tension in your stomach. The cucumber pushed deep into your ass so only its thinner stalk or whatever its called pokes out. The wide eggplant parting your labia in an obscene fashion, its entire body stuffed into your cunt, creating a slight bulge in your lower stomach.

There's another stack of photos atop a large envelope (the whole drawer seems to be dedicated to just you), and your curiosity gets the better of you after all. It's a series of pictures showing different round objects pushed into your holes. From marbles to ping pong balls to actual tennis balls, they're all shown vanishing into either your ass or your cunt, pushed by a delicate finger clad in a white glove, one after the other, and you can only assume how many would actually fit. It's not a video, you can't be sure, but you can imagine whoever did this to you didn't stop at just one.

Indeed they didn't, as the next photo shows. Another set of hands, also wearing white gloves, is grabbing your ass cheeks and pulling them apart, making your sphincter wink at the camera, before, in the next shot, your hole is gaping, allowing a strange view inside, rosy flesh stuffed with white little balls (you can see at least three, but more are hinted at behind them). You feel a little sick looking at the rest of the series of pictures, where they come back out as your hole puckers, pushing and pushing.

Your body reacts in earnest, your muscles clenching around nothing, deep shivers crashing down your spine. You flip past more of these kinds of photos, until you stop when you see white-gloved fingers poking at your cunt, spreading your lips, gathering your slick that glistens on the surface of the latex gloves, and you let out an audible gasp when the next picture doesn't show them push in, but shows only a wrist (attached to a slender arm) poking out of your stretched hole, gripped by tight skin, suggesting the entire hand is stuck inside you.

Your stomach gives a nervous growl at the sight, your breath hitching in your throat. You swallow thickly, your nostrils flaring as you force yourself to breathe through your nose to calm yourself. The stack of pictures shakes in your hands as you flip through more extreme insertions, more vegetables, some fruits, an entire apple made it up your cunt apparently, while they went from using one cucumber in your ass to at least three, stretching your rim impossibly wide. The sight alone makes your asshole clench violently, and you wonder why you never felt sore after being stuffed so full and spread so wide.

But your body seemingly adjusted, returned to its former state, unharmed, giving no hints at what actually happened to you. Strange. It's almost as if this happened to somebody else after all. But it didn't. It is your body. You may not know your cunt or ass up close, but you recognize the rest, your boobs, your arms, your belly, your legs, your feet, the birthmarks that make you you. It is you in these pictures, in every single one.

Only you.

A strangled sob escapes you as you look over the desk, seeing more and more envelopes, hiding in plain sight, more prints, some smaller, some bigger, all filled with motifs of your body being used in various fashions, one more degrading than the next. Shame settles low in your stomach, like a heavy weight that makes it hard to breathe. Your head is spinning, blood rushing in your ears so loudly you are startled back into reality as you suddenly hear the creaking of the door.

Footsteps follow, before someone clears their throat.

You whip around, dropping the last pictures you were holding, more shots of your stuffed cunt, wet and glistening as it's assaulted by more household items. Your eyes widen when you see your roommate in the door frame, a smug smile on her beautiful face as she crosses her arms over her chest.

“Oh hi,” she says in a nonchalant tone, tilting her head. “What are you doing here, pet?” she adds, and you frown at the nickname, a strange sensation crashing through your nerves.

“I... uh... I was looking for...” you stammer, taking a step away from the desk and the mess you made by dropping all those prints. “A hair tie,” you whisper breathlessly, curling your shaking hands into fists as you stare at her. “What... what are these? Did you take them?” you then ask, your voice trembling as much as your shoulders while you look from her back to the discriminating evidence you found by accident.

Your roommate sighs, unfolding her arms as she walks towards you. She's taller than you, slender and still curvy in the right places, her long hair falling over her slim shoulders. You force yourself to look into her eyes and not get distracted by the cleavage her tight dress creates or how close she is. She stops right in front of you, looking down, a softer looking smile curling her full lips.

“You know I did,” she says quietly, reaching up a hand to caress your cheek with the back of her finger. You shiver under the touch, but don't flinch away. “You agreed to this, remember?”

“No,” you breathe out, blinking quickly as you feel tears welling up in your eyes.

She clicks her tongue, shaking her head. “Shh, it's okay, pet, don't worry. You did. I would never do anything to harm you,” she whispers, leaning closer until you feel her hot breath on your lips. “You wanted to be my muse, you begged me for it,” she adds, biting her lip sensually before leaning in to press her warm mouth to the corner of yours.

You stiffen, eyes widening, your heart nearly exploding in your chest. You can't remember any of this. Why is she saying that? She is just your roommate!

You moved in only a few months ago, replying to an ad you saw on the bulletin board of your college dorm. A cheap room in a good neighborhood, your own room, away from the distractions of having to live with people you don't like or know that well, it sounded too good to be true. But it was true, and the woman looking for roommates was so nice, so enticing. You met her at a neutral place, to get to know her (fall for her charm), before she showed you the apartment, and you moved in later that week.

It was perfect. Until it wasn't. Not that you noticed it right away. You just never saw her. Now that you thought about it, you can only (barely) remember going to your classes (you are still going to your classes, right?), while the rest of the day is somewhat of a blur. You can't, however, remember going to your job at the coffee shop (do you still have a job? How are you paying for this place?), and the more you try to remember, the more holes come up, black and all-consuming.

You frown as you stare at her. She leans back slowly, watching you. Her hand is on your face, the pointy nail of her thump scraping over your bottom lip as her long fingers caress the shell of your ear.

“No need to worry, pet,” she says quietly, her voice a low soft thrum, rich like honey, that tickles something inside you that you've fought all your life. Why does she keep calling you 'pet'? And why does it affect you so much? “Everything is just fine. And I'm not even mad that you just went into my room like this. I told you you shouldn't, didn't I?”

You swallow as she lowers her hand and closes it around your throat, giving it a gentle squeeze. You feel your pulse throbbing against her palm. “I'm sorry,” you gasp out.

She smiles at you, moving her hand even lower, teasing her fingertips along the neckline of your shirt. “It's okay. You know the consequences. It'll be fine.” You furrow your eyebrows, breathing harder, not understanding anything. “Not the first time, hm?” she adds, giving you a wink. Her words make no sense, your head is hurting with how tight you pull your eyebrows together, and with all the thoughts and questions whirling about in a wild dance of confusion.

“I... I don't –”

“Shh,” she shushes you, her hand gripping your chin. You freeze. “Be a good pet and go back to your room. I'll clean this up. Put on the clothes I chose for you. Wait for me when you're done. Do you understand?”

You stare at her, your body tensing up, your cunt clenching hard around nothing. Her words, the cadence of her voice, the dominant tone, it all brings you to do one thing, your mind emptying as words spill from your trembling lips. “Yes, Mistress.”

You don't even know where these came from. Mistress? Pet? What is going on? But your body moves on auto-pilot, your mind swirling, still fighting the confusion, but also easing into a strange void, triggered by words you've heard before, or so it feels, commands you've answered many times in the past.

She lets go of your chin, giving you a warm smile, even though her eyes are dark and somewhat cold, and you nod, bow your head and shuffle out of the room, your legs trembling as you make your way back into your bedroom across the hall.

For a moment you're wondering how you got here, why you're here, but then your gaze falls onto a pile of clothes on your bed. You walk closer, picking up item after item. A short black skirt, pleated, barely long enough to not be considered a belt. A tight tank top, white and almost see-through. A set of fancy black underwear, a lace bra with an intricate flower pattern, a thong of similar design. There's also a pair of sheer black stockings, a garter belt and straps to attach each piece together.

Your stomach tenses at the sight. You've seen these pieces before, in the photos you shouldn't have seen. It's a blur how you put them on, your head spinning, your hands shaking, but you still somehow manage to dress in time before you hear footsteps on the floorboards outside your room. Your heart beats faster, your chest heaving, tight in the bra and top, straining, something cold crashing down your spine before it gathers hot and pulsing right between your legs.

Before the creaking of the door announces your roommate, you suddenly fall to your knees, your feet tucked under your rear, your hands automatically finding purchase in your lap, folded neatly as you stretch your back and square your shoulders, breathing deep as you train your eyes straight ahead, waiting for the door to open. You have no idea what made you assume this position, why it feels so familiar, so safe in a way.

Your roommate (your Mistress) enters your bedroom, her high heels thudding over the carpet as she walks up to you, tilting her head as she watches you closely. “Stand,” she says, and you do, your legs moving seemingly on their own. Once you stand, stiff with your arms pressed to your sides, chest pushed out, your neck straight, eyes wandering over the tall frame in front of you, she nods. “See? You haven't forgotten. Good girl,” she says, and the praise shoots through you like a pistol shot, straight into your clit, making it throb and ache, your heart beating in the same hurried rhythm.

She walks around you then, her long fingers brushing over your bare arms, around your shoulders, down your spine, until she gives your ass a soft slap, making you gasp quietly. She repeats the motion, but this time, she leaves her hand on your cheek for a moment, squeezing it, her fingernails digging into your soft skin. You stiffen, breathing a little harder.

“You're so beautiful,” she whispers as she leans into you, looming behind you, her breath ghosting your jaw. “My perfect little muse.”

You feel her lips brushing against the soft spot behind your ear, a hot kiss that makes you shiver, while her hand gropes your ass, fingertips teasing at the thin fabric of your thong tucked between your cheeks.

Suddenly she leans back, lets go of you, and you hear her walking a few steps before she stops, a deep sigh echoing through the room. You turn around slowly, unsure if you should, but when you do, you freeze as you watch her pick up the glass of water on your bedside table.

“Baby, I told you to drink more,” she says with a tilt of her head. “You always forget, hm? So busy, head always in the clouds...” She walks back to you, holding the glass in front of you, her eyes boring into yours as she waits for you to grab it. You do, your hands shaking. “Drink up, pretty girl. You know you need it.”

She's so caring, you think as you bring the water to your lips, holding her gaze, but as soon as you feel the cold liquid running down your tight throat, an image flickers before your eyes. Your roommate (Mistress) sitting on your bed, moving a clear glass straw in a stirring motion, swirling the water, making a faint sheen of powder disappear. You feel as if you've watched her do that many times. What is that? What did she put in here? Vitamins? Or something else?

But you can't even question it further, can't find the courage to ask, when you realize you've drank the whole thing, every drop of water (and whatever else was in there) now in your stomach. “Good girl,” she praises and smiles at you, before she takes the glass from your clammy fingers and puts it back on your bedside table. “Now let's get you ready for our big night out, yeah?”

You frown, another faint memory peeking through the fog in your head. It seems to be getting thicker now. Strange. But this image, you still see somewhat clearly before you. You had plans tonight, you remember now, you wanted to go out. Where? No idea. But you needed a hair tie. Yeah. That's why you went into your roommate's room in the first place. Some details are blurry (were you supposed to go out with her? Have you done that before? Why would you? You barely know the woman...), but somehow they don't matter anymore.

She steps back in front of you, her fingers vanishing in the cleavage of her dress before she pulls something from between her breasts. You blink in confusion as you recognize the shape. It's a metal butt plug. And she stored it between her boobs? Interesting.

“Open wide, pet,” she tells you, and without even questioning it, you part your lips and let your tongue roll out. She looks pleased as she puts the rounded object into your mouth. It's warm, and the taste triggers something else in you. Another familiar sensation. It's her, you know without knowing, her taste, sweet and a bit salty, exploding on your tongue, sinking deep, causing soft shivers to crash down your spine, something hot gathering low in your gut.

You've had your face on her chest before, huh? Must be. Your cheeks burn up badly, your breaths loud through your nose as you suckle on the butt plug between your lips, your eyes scanning the pretty face looking down at you. She keeps her fingers on the base, pushing the object in and out, and you find yourself licking around it, coating it in your saliva. Like you've done before. You think.

She watches you before she lets go of the plug and puts her palm over your mouth. “Keep it nice and warm for me, okay?” she says, leaning closer until her nose brushes against yours. You give a jerking nod, tightening your lips around the narrowest part of the plug while its body rests hard and heavy on your tongue. “Good.”

You feel saliva pooling in your mouth, and the urge to swallow becomes stronger. But you focus on the woman in front of you as she straightens up again, her hands on her hips. Her whole presence, her aura, has you in its grip, you feel, it's impossible to fight it, to protest, to do anything except the things she demands of you. All it takes is a look, a word, her voice driving through you like an electric current that controls your every limb.

And so you move when she tells you to turn around and bend over, and as you rest on your forearms on the edge of your bed, she nudges your legs apart and steps between them, her hands sliding under your skirt and pushing it up. You stiffen slightly, breathing harder, your heart thundering inside your chest, but you can't object, you don't want to. You just endure.

And a tiny part of you, through the fog in your head, lights up, a growing heat that creeps down your spine, tenses in your stomach, seeps lower until it gathers in your core, scorching, wet, and it's all you feel when she pushes your thong aside and moves her fingers along your slit, dipping gently between your puffy lips and into your slick, the loud squelching noise making your ears burn.

She prods at your entrance, teases your clit, but then she moves up again, and without warning or command or reassuring words pokes right against your puckered hole, and as you gasp around the plug in your mouth, flinching slightly, she stretches your rim and pushes into your ass, a slim finger, a pointy fingernail, digging against your tense muscles. In and out it goes until there are two fingers, then three, and it burns, the friction too much, like little daggers poking at your nerves.

“Come on, pet, relax,” she says from behind you, moving her fingers deeper, curling them, pushing and prodding against protesting muscles. “You've done this before. You're a pro at this, remember?”

Her words bring up the hazy memories of the pictures you saw, of the various items wedged into your tight ass, and some just don't make sense. Three cucumbers? Really? While it already feels like too much when she 'only' has three slim fingers inside you? How did you manage that? Your stomach gives a distant growl as drool slips past your tight lips and onto your bed.

“Fine, I'll lube you up this time,” she sighs and removes her fingers with a strangely wet pop. This time? She doesn't usually? It's almost as if you can remember the pain of the dry friction, but then why can you never remember any soreness afterwards? Confusion lingers on your mind as you hear her footsteps leaving the room.

You remain in your bent-over position, your hands clawing at the sheets as you suckle mindlessly on the metal plug in your mouth, trying to make sense of it all. You come to no conclusion whatsoever when she eventually returns, and you hear the squirt of some liquid before you can feel it. Large dollops of something cold pressing against your tight hole. You groan against the object between your lips as she pushes deeper, her fingers, slick and cold, sliding in and out again.

This time she stretches your hole by scissoring her fingers, knuckles digging into your tense muscles, and you hear another squirt and something cold lands on your hot skin, slipping right into you. You shiver, goosebumps breaking out on your exposed skin. She keeps doing that, filling you up with more and more lube, you assume, her fingers pushing it deep, coating your insides. It's a strange sensation, but again, this feels somewhat familiar, and triggers more memories you seem to have suppressed before, or forgotten.

You see yourself strapped to a reclining chair, your legs raised up in some sort of stirrups, ankles tied and wrists bound to the armrests. You're naked, and she is kneeling between your wide open legs in front of a large plastic bucket or something like it, and there's a tube inside your ass, something cold (water?) pressing through it and into you, and you see and feel it filling you up, your stomach bulging, and you feel sick, your insides cramping, but you can't say anything, there's a gag in your mouth, so all you can do is squirm in your restraints, until you feel a different sort of pain as she slaps your mound with a force that makes you cry out, makes you flinch remembering it, and she keeps at it, hitting your clit with precise blows until it's all puffy and throbbing badly, and you throw your head back and whine helplessly, your belly still bulging, filling up, while her voice coos into your ear:

“You want to be clean, pet, don't you? So we gotta clean you up properly. You don't want to be dirty for our guests, now do you?”

You frown deeply as those words echo in your cloudy head. Guests? But the question vanishes slowly, replaced by the sensation of her fingers digging deep into your ass, spreading more lube, and in the back of your mind you're just glad she isn't giving you another enema. A strange thought to have, but it makes sense in the dizziness that holds you hostage. Breathing harder, you press your forehead into the bed, swallowing hard around the plug in your mouth.

As she works on (in) your ass, you start to feel a tingle in your neglected pussy, a spasm deep within, a little clench, a needy little urge, and instead of holding still, you find yourself grinding your rear into her hand. She stops immediately, a deep sigh escaping her as she pulls her fingers out of your ass and grips your nape with her wet hand. You shiver and stiffen, holding your breath as she pulls you into a standing position.

Her free hand grabs the base of the plug and pulls it out of your mouth where it clangs against your teeth, causing you to flinch. You swallow the excess spit and take a shuddering breath as you feel the warm metal pressing between your ass cheeks. With how she worked you open, it slips in easily enough, and your muscles clench slightly around its narrow neck, but it's only after she smacks your soft cheek a few times in rapid succession, making you whine and shudder as your skin tightens, that you're tensing up enough to hold it in place.

She lets go of you and spins you around, then holds out her hand to you, her fingers glistening in lube and your own wetness. “Clean,” she says, and even though your stomach makes a loud grumble of protest, you find yourself leaning in and closing your lips around her slim fingers. A strange taste of artificial strawberry and something else, something tangy and your own, floods your senses, but you close your eyes and flick your tongue around her digits, focusing on the task and not on the taste and the origin of it.

Eventually she pulls her hand away and pats your cheek, leaving a trail of saliva on your warm skin. Your eyes flutter open as she leans around you and adjusts your thong, pulling it back in place, then pushes your skirt down again. Her eyes meet yours, the gaze intense, creating another soothing wave of heat that rolls over you gently, that makes you clench around the plug in your butt. A smile grazes her full lips, and you find yourself smiling back.

“Alright, now put your hair up, get your shoes and your coat, and wait by the front door,” she tells you as she steps away, holding your gaze until you nod obediently. Your mind is reeling at this point, confusion and arousal warring inside of you. What is happening?

You don't know, and you don't seem to care too much either as you start moving, following her orders. You end up on your knees again, right by the door, waiting like a dog, and the image couldn't have been more fitting when you see her approaching with a strange leather band in her hands. You blink when she crouches down before you and fixes what you can only assume is a collar around your neck. It sits tight enough to notice it, but you can still breathe freely and swallow against it without it restricting you in any way.

You're still confused why you need this (and why you accept it so easily). Your roommate (Mistress) cups your face and looks at you with a warm gaze that makes you bite your lip, her hands rubbing over your cheeks before she tugs her thumbs under your chin and lifts it so she can lean in and press her lips to yours. Your eyes flutter shut as you part your lips and meet her tongue, the kiss deep and soft, gentle gliding of tongues and lips, a warm gesture, sending sparks through your nerves that make you throb with a need that feels both familiar and eerily unknown, frightening.

A single thought ricochets through your empty head: You would do anything for this woman.

“My beautiful pet,” she whispers against your tingling lips, the tip of her tongue tracing the corner of your mouth. “Are you ready?”

Without thinking, without wondering what for, you nod eagerly, a breathless “Yes, Mistress.” leaving your swollen lips. She gives you another peck and stands up then, snapping her fingers in a way that leaves no room for interpretation. You stand immediately, swaying slightly on the high heels you were told to wear. You're still smaller than her, but having to look up only amplifies the sensation coursing through you. Your devotion for her.

She grabs a large bag and shoves it into your hands, and you know by the weight and feel of it, that it holds camera equipment. A distant memory shimmers behind your glassy eyes, of stumbling into her room, finding those envelopes in the drawer of her desk, of flipping through countless pictures of your naked body, of your holes being stuffed and stretched, of being tied down, of letting her do with you whatever she wants. What has disturbed you earlier is barely worth a flinch now.

It's what you do. It's what you are. Her muse. Her pet. She chose you and you obey. It's what you do, it's what she does. She's your Mistress, after all.

1 🎀 2 🎀 3 🎀 4

End notes: Yes, our dominant lady here is indeed inspired by a character from my other (m/f) Dom/sub story: Infatuated: Mistress.

By the way, a little disclaimer at the end here as we go to the next (heavier) chapters: I am not a BDSM professional or expert, I am a writer with a dirty mind and access to the Internet. This is fiction, gaslighting people is bad, consent is very important, but when a hot lady tells you to do something, you gotta do it, that's the law (jk). Please see this as what it is: a fantasy and nothing more.

Thank you for reading! Next chapter on Saturday!

MASTERLIST // AO3 // ORIGINAL WORKS

164 notes · View notes

reiderwriter · 1 year ago

Text

The Us That Could Have Been

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Female BAU Reader

Requested: yes - role reversal of the player!Spencer fic I posted here!

W/C: 5.7k

Summary: They say if you want to get over one man, you have to get under another. Spencer isn't so sure why he dislikes the idea of you doing that quite so much.

Warnings: Mentions of Maeve, spoilers for S8, mentions of minor character deaths, smut, unprotected sex, creampie, angst.

A/N: I'm not going to apologise for this one... Have fun.

Find the rest of my masterlist here.

If you were a genius, you’d know that it took you three hours, twenty-three minutes, and six seconds to fall in love with Spencer Reid. If you were a genius, you’d also know that it took him five years, seven months, twenty-seven days, and two hours to the second for him to break your heart. The thing you were learning about geniuses though, is that they were the most oblivious people on the planet.

Her name was Maeve, he had told all of you. And he needed your help to save her because he was in love with her. And of course, you went along with it, you tried your best even while your heart was cracked in two because at this point, you couldn’t stand the desperation on his face. The day he told you about her, only days before he died, you cried in the arms of Penelope Garcia for hours, letting her console you as you felt your world get flipped upside down.

“I don’t know why I’m feeling like this, god, Penelope. Five years, and I knew, I knew that if he liked me like that something would have happened already, but I just…” She rubbed your back as you laid your head on her shoulder, letting your tears fall freely as the sobs wracked through your body.

“I’ve been in love with him for five years and he never even noticed, and… Penelope he hasn’t seen this girl before and he’s desperate for her. What about me is so unlovable?” Your voice cracked as you broke down again, burying your head in your friend's arms as you let all the emotions hit you at once.

“Y/N you listen to me right now. You are not unlovable, you have never been unlovable. If Spencer cannot see what is right in front of him, then he is an idiot. You are the most amazing thing that has happened to him, you’re a great friend, you’re smart, you’re beautiful-”

“I’m not her. Penelope, I… I want to be her-” She held you as you emptied yourself for hours, crying until you were so physically exhausted that you just couldn’t anymore. You couldn’t say that you stopped crying per se, just that your body ran out of emotions to sustain you.

“Okay, Y/N, here’s what you’re going to do now,” Penelope said. She’d heard you out for long enough, but she wasn’t going to let you be miserable for long.

“You’re going to pick yourself up, take care of yourself. Get a haircut, dye your hair, whatever you need to do to get some change. And then you’re going to do your goddamn best to forget him, because if he’s too stupid to realize how special and amazing you are then he really doesn’t deserve you.” You sniffled a bit and nodded at her words.

“And then, you’re going to get back out there. Y/N, when was the last time you went on a date?”

“I don’t know it’s been… The last one I can remember was before I entered the BAU. I’ve just been so busy-”

“Bullshit. You’re going to put yourself back out there and find a man, or multiple men, who actually value you and want you. A wise scholar once said the best way to get over a man is to get under another.”

–X–

A year later and you’d probably taken Penelope’s words to heart a little bit too much. Maeve had died at the hands of her stalker not even a day later, and you felt terrible for Spencer, but he’d pushed you away, he’d pushed everyone away, so you’d decided she was right.

Your first date had been a few weeks later, and you’d have liked the fact that you’d taken him back to your place and then immediately kicked him out and never seen him again after that to stay a secret. But the BAU copycat didn’t let any of your business stay within the team for long. He had pictures of you with the first guy, the guy from a week later, and the guy after him as well. By the time you’d figured out who the copycat murderer who’d sent you all Zugzwang-themed threats was, he’d got pictures of you locking lips with five separate one-night stands.

The team had said nothing about it, of course, except Hotch’s private aside asking if any of the men in the pictures needed informing about the situation. You’d had to admit to them that you’d not seen any of them since, and, with no reaction from Spencer, you’d felt almost vindicated in taking this step.

If he didn’t care then, in those tense months where you were all leaning on each other for support, reeling from the death of Erin Strauss and the attacks on the team, closer than you’d really ever been before, then he wouldn’t ever care.

The thought was freeing. So you’d kept up with your constant stream of men, not letting them get close enough to hurt you in the way that Spencer had, using them and discarding them like broken toys, ignoring that maybe it was you that was the broken one.

It took a year for him to notice it. A year of you coming in with suspicious bruises on your neck that you laughed off, a year of your newfound confidence, a year of your conscious distance for him to notice that he missed you. It was slow at first. In those first few months, he just accepted that of course, you’d been seeing people. He’d assumed from the photographs everyone had seen that you’d been dating the entire time he’d known you, the feeling unsettling him a little, but he thought that was only because he’d never noticed.

Now it was all he could notice. The way you’d walk in sometimes smelling unfamiliar, having showered at a hookup's place before taking off, the way you were suddenly open to the flirting by the local PDs on your cases. The way a sadness seeped into his chest every time he saw you with someone else. Envy wasn’t a feeling he was familiar with, so it took him stupidly long to name the emotion.

You were back at O’Keefe’s after a local case successfully closed, and if you were drinking a lot, no one mentioned it. No one except Spencer, who’d made it his objective to keep you safe and by his side the entire night, for reasons he couldn’t even name. It was stifling, having him constantly hovering over you.

“Spencer, lighten up a bit, have a drink.” You smiled up at him, trying to get him to loosen up so you could escape the way his sudden care was making you feel. The bartender was eyeing you up from his place behind the bar, and while you were usually careful not to get involved with men whom you’d likely run across again, you were throwing caution to the wind that day.

“I’ll have a drink if you drink some water and slow down a bit, Y/N.” He handed you the glass he’d retrieved earlier and you sipped it slowly, squirming under the care in his gaze. He ordered a drink, and you eyed up the bartender as he did so, pushing Spencer’s hand off your hip as he approached, offering him a smile. He looked between you and the unfamiliar man, and felt a cold flash in his veins, waiting for his drink and then pulling you away back to the table with the rest of your friends, tangling your hand with his.

You pulled out of his grip but followed him dutifully. He guided you into your seat quickly, brushing your hair out of your eyes before falling back into conversation with the rest of the team. You hated the way he could still make your heart stutter, still have you feeling hot all over from a single touch, and you felt trapped in the booth, screaming for a way out.

Your chance came an hour later, when he excused himself to the bathroom, and you excused yourself as well, running back up to the bar. When he came back, you were gone.

“Where is Y/N?” He asked with a scowl, cursing himself for letting his eyes off you for even a second when you’d drank so much that night, having come back to suggest you turn in for the night, getting ready to offer you a ride home.

“Y/N? By now, she’s either in the back room with the bartender or she’s convinced him to get off early and head back to hers,” Morgan chuckled, taking a swig of his drink. “Took her only two minutes of conversation to have him inviting her out the back entrance, she’s been gone for like five minutes now.

The constricted feeling settled in his chest again, as his scowl deepened. Not knowing why he was feeling so goddamn destroyed by that statement, he let his head hang and left the bar himself, taking himself outside to get in his car and go home. Unbeknownst to him, you watched him leave from the alley behind the bar, the bartender placing open-mouthed kisses on your exposed neck as you buried your worryingly consistent feelings in the scent of bourbon and lust.

The next week is rough for both of you. You laugh and play along with Morgan’s jokes about your game, keeping an eye out for him the entire time and ending all the conversations as you feel him enter the room or step closer. It doesn’t stop him from hearing it all, though, all the details about your sex life tormenting him, as he boils with anger at how wreckless you’re being with your constant stream of guys.

“Mama, you were on fire last week. Took you only two minutes to disappear with that guy, you’re going to have to let me in on your secrets,” Morgan laughed from his perch on your desk.

“Sorry, a magician never reveals her secrets, and what I do is definitely magic.” Your tone was suggestive and set the man off in a booming laugh, but with your back to the door, you hadn’t heard Spencer’s entrance.

“The secret is that men are more accepting of casual hook-ups with strangers than women,” he snapped at you both, beginning to ramble as you both looked up at him in shock.

“Okay, kid, I was just joking-”

“When surveyed over 75% of men said they would be willing to have sex with a complete stranger, vs. 0% of women, and while that’s just one study, there are multiple others that I could quote that have similar results.”

“Spencer,” you chastised him, but he didn’t stop.

“What? Did you want to know when posing the question of an affair to people in a relationship that 18% of men reacted positively to having casual sex with a stranger, and surprisingly 4% of women also reacted in the affirmative? Did you ask that guy if he had a girlfriend before you fell into his bed, Y/N?”

“Okay, that’s enough, Spencer, take a walk. I don’t know what’s up with you today, but that was out of line. Hotch is looking for you in his office.” The words came from Morgan, but he kept his eyes locked with yours as he was scolded, memorizing the look of pain in your eyes as he finally backed away.

He didn’t know why he did it. He knew it would hurt you, and yet he continued anyway, even after you’d begged him to stop. He was hurt, and he didn’t know why, and he didn’t think he had any reason to be hurt, and somehow it was all because you’d been in the back of his mind constantly for as long as he could remember.

–X–

“Okay, girl’s night, my place, tomorrow night. There are no cases, and I managed to get Hotch to agree to let us put our phones on silent for the night, so it’s just me, you, JJ, and Blake, a bottle of wine and some good old-fashioned girl talk, what do you say?” Penelope asked you gleefully in the break room one day as you both prepared your drinks for a busy day of paperwork ahead.

“I’m sorry, Pen, I have plans already.” You grinned up at her as she pouted, promising to make it up to her another time. You didn’t offer an explanation though, just excusing yourself back to your desk and letting her know that you’d make it up to her another time.

Reid took your place as soon as you vacated it. Almost obsessively, he’d been following you around like a lost puppy since he’d exploded on you the other day.

“I know you said girls’ night but… Could... Could I come? I think I need some uh, girl talk?” He asked Penelope, an awkward, embarrassed look on his face as he smiled tensely. If anyone knew what was wrong with him, recently, it would be them.

Last year, he’d have said it was you, but the distance he’d felt recently, combined with the fact that he was almost 90% sure you were the root of his problems had him desperate for other opinions.

“Oh. Are you sure, Spencer, we’ll be talking about all kinds of gross women stuff?”

“I was raised by a single mother. I’m sure nothing you say could gross me out. Please?” She nodded her approval telling him what time to get there and to bring his beverage of choice, knowing he didn’t really drink wine all that much if he could help it.

He turned up twenty minutes late, after spending a great deal of time pacing outside of Penelope’s apartment building wondering if he had any right to unburden himself on them like this. Pacing he wondered whether you’d actually showed up despite your mysterious plans and whether this had been all for naught anyway.

When he eventually knocked on the door, Penelope opened it and greeted him with a warm hug. “We were wondering when you were going to knock on the door, one more minute and we were going to come out to get you.”

JJ stood up to hug him, wine glass in her hand, and Blake offered him a wave from her perch on the couch. He took off his scarf and coat and accepted the glass of water Penelope offered him, settling into a chair opposite the three women.

“Penelope said you wanted advice about something?” Blake was the first to enquire, the three of them getting straight into it, not letting him chicken out of it.

“Yeah, I think so. Lately, I’ve been having these, I don’t know, weird feelings…”

“Oh god, I thought I was a few years out from having the talk with someone,” JJ joked, but Penelope shushed her quickly after a quick snicker, letting him continue.

“I’ve been… I’m not sure if you’ve noticed, but I’ve been acting really weird around Y/N, and I can’t figure out why.” He finally pushed the words out, feeling a weight off his chest at the confession.

“You can’t?” The room was silent for a minute as they looked at each other, and he looked at them looking at each other, wondering what it was exactly that he’d missed.

“Yeah? I don’t know, every time I see her I just want to, I don’t know, have her attention on me, even if I have to say something a little mean to get it. And in the bar that time, I was so, I don’t know hurt, I guess, when she disappeared without saying goodbye.”

They just listened to him go on, not stopping to interrupt him, so he continued.

“And there’s been this weird distance between us lately, and I guess it’s been there for a while, but I miss her, but she’s still there. I can still talk to her, and I can still spend time with her but I miss her all the time.”

“Spencer,” Blake said with a soft voice. “Since when have you been feeling like this?”

“I don’t know, I guess it started after everything happened with Strauss and the copycat in New York. But she’s always been… I don’t know, closer than most people? But every time I think we’re getting back to normal recently, she pulls away again and there’s this… void where she should be.”

JJ put her drink down and leaned a little closer to him, putting a hand on his shoulder.

“Spencer, I think you might be in love with her.” He considered the words for a moment, before getting ready to dismiss them.

“No, love is a good emotion, this doesn’t feel good, it feels… ugly.” Blake stared at him sympathetically, calmly talking him around.

“Spencer, think about it. You’re protective over her, you don’t like seeing her with other people, this all started right around the time the copycat sent those pictures of her with other people. It is love, and it’s jealousy, too.”

The words hit him like a tonne of bricks as he suddenly felt the full force of his words. He was in love with you.

“Oh god, what do I do?” He held his head in his hands, and Penelope scoffed a little from her seat, the rest of them turning to look at him.

“I’m sorry, you’re going to have to figure this one out on your own genius.” She said with a slightly sharp tone, and even the girls sent her questioning stares as she continued.

“You don’t just get to decide that you want her after all this time, not after how you’ve been treating her these last few months.” She turns her head away a little bit and sips her drink, her tough-love approach leaving him slightly defeated.

“Penelope, do you know something?” Blake asks firmly, trying to coax some answers out of her.

“If I did, I’d be under a strict oath not to tell anyone. And I wouldn’t want to considering how much pain she was in when she made me swear never to tell anyone.” It was clear from the tone of her voice that she really wanted to say something though, the words desperate to spill out.

“Penelope, your loyalty is commendable, but don’t you think what you have to say could help both of them?” JJ quietly coaxed out of her, and she finally gave in.

“Okay, but if you hurt her, Spencer Reid, I will never forgive you ever again.” He nodded quickly, hanging onto her every word.

“Think about what else happened a year ago.” She encouraged him, and for a moment, he was coming up blank.

“A year ago? We were in the middle of the copycat case. Strauss had just been killed. We were close to being pulled off the case-”

“You got a girlfriend, Spencer. You came in one day out of the blue and just announced that you were in love with someone you hadn’t met, and you didn’t realize that you were torturing her.” Penelope tried really hard not to snap at him, but his ignorance of your feelings was frustrating, to say the least.

“What Penelope is trying to say, Spencer, is that we think Y/N was in love with you, too,” JJ added, softening the blow. “And finding out you didn’t feel the same way so suddenly was, well it was a shock to all of us really.”

“What Penelope is trying to say is that she spent six hours with me crying into this couch, and then picked herself up and helped you try to save the woman you had chosen over her. So yeah, she’s been a bit distant, but can you really blame her?”

“She… She was in love with me?” His heart stopped for a second, dropping to the pit of his stomach as he thought back to those days, how you’d acted around him, the smiles that hadn’t reached your eyes, the reassurances that he’d brushed off, so desperate to help Maeve.

“Honestly, until you told us about Maeve, I thought you two had something going on,” Blake added.

“We used to have an office bet when Emily was around about which of the two of you would confess first,” JJ admitted shyly.

“Oh, god.” He let his head hang a little in shame. “Do you… do you think she still feels the same?”

They shared another glance at each other again, and he panicked trying desperately to decode whatever it was that had just passed between them.

“Look, we shouldn’t profile each other but… It’s not a coincidence that all of her hookups tend to happen after you pay her some attention.” Blake observed, letting Reid fill in the blanks of her statement.

“That might be my fault actually, I told her the best way to get over you is to get under someone else.”

“I don’t want her under someone else,” he stated then, cutting himself off before he could say anything else too damning.

“She’s not here tonight, why isn’t she here?” He panicked looking frantically around the room for answers, but none of them knew really.

“She said she had plans, but she didn’t tell me what they are.”

“Do you think she’s… do you think she’s with…” He couldn’t finish the thought, instead bolting upright and gathering his things.

“I need to go.” He let out, as the women cheered behind him, finally happy that he was taking action. Penelope shouted your address at him as he left as if he didn’t already have it memorized, running out in the rain, his feet carrying him to your apartment.

He saw the light on when he approached, thankful that you were still there, and bounded up the stairs to your floor, not giving himself time to second guess this before he pounded on your door.

You pulled the door open, a confused look on your face as you greeted him, his chest heaving, water dripping down his face. He looked like a mess.

“Are you alone?” He gasped out, having to pause between each word to catch his breath.

“Spencer, what are you doing-” The breath left your body as he leaned into you, catching you around the hips and walking you back into your apartment, your back hitting the wall behind you as he rested his forehead against your own, chest still desperately drawing in oxygen.

“Please, please tell me right now if there’s someone here with you. If there is, I’ll leave, if there isn’t…” His gaze fell to your lips and your entire body lit up, the haze of your confusion finally lifting as you took in each of his words. His lips moved forward, seconds from connecting with your own when his question was finally answered.

“Y/N? Who is it?” The voice was male, and it was coming from your living room, but it was all Spencer needed to know as he detangled himself from you, pushing his wet hair out of his face and putting some distance between you two, muttering apologies as he backed out of the door again.

“I’m sorry, I shouldn’t… I’m sorry,” he said, quickly turning away from you and leaving your apartment quickly.

“Spencer, wait-” You tried to yell after him, but it was too late. He had disappeared into the night, as quickly as he came.

You returned to the living room, cursing yourself for not answering quickly enough as you crawled back into the seat you’d just left.

“What was all that?” Your brother asked from his perch, shoveling popcorn into his mouth in a way that had you somehow even more pissed at him for the simple fact of his existence.

“That was Spencer. He… God, I think he thinks I’m in here with a guy.”

–X–

The next few days at work were tense, as you desperately tried everything to catch his eye. But you weren’t sure why you were putting in so much effort. He was the one who had burst into your apartment and practically begged you for your attention, why were you now the one chasing him?

Needless to say, you took your frustrations straight to Penelope Monday morning.

“And then he left without letting me explain that it was my brother, and he hasn’t talked to me once this morning, he keeps running away from me and I don’t even know what the fuck it was he was trying to gain from all that and- ughh he is so dense.”

Penelope had sensed the oncoming disaster the moment she’d seen your social media post about your brother’s visit Saturday morning, and you only confirmed all her fears as you unloaded onto her. She silently cursed Spencer as well, and once she’d given you some reassurance and reminded you that you had some case files on your desk that were urgent and distracting enough to calm you down, she practically lept from her seat to hunt Reid down.

“Spencer Reid, you get your ass in my office right this second,” she whisper screamed at him in the breakroom, his sunken eyes showing that his jump to conclusions had left him in a poor emotional state. He jolted at her words, as she watched to see if you noticed the two of them before practically frog-marching him off down the hall.

“What the hell happened? We sent you off to confess your feelings, and you what? Pin her to the wall and breathe down her neck before running off with your tail between your legs?”

He looked down guiltily before replying. “She had a guy there, Penelope, I didn’t want to… I didn’t want to get rejected like that.”

“She did not have a guy there, Spencer, she had her brother there.” She pulled up your post on her phone and thrust it in his face as she watched his eyes go wide at his own stupidity, clutching the phone as he read your words.

“And if you weren’t a coward, you’d have stayed and told her even if she did actually have someone over.”

He’d since tuned out her words though, the crushing weight of his almost-confession that had been stuck to him since the weekend dissipating slowly.

“This is her brother?” He looked up at you again, desperate to confirm the words she’d already said.

“Yes. You’d know that if you weren’t such a technophobic freak. I love you but this is the 21st Century and you’re an idiot.”

“Yeah, I am.” He handed her the phone back and slunk out of the office, and back to his desk. He had a chance to try again, and he wasn’t going to fuck it up this time.

–X–

You didn’t know how you knew that night, but when you heard the knock at your door, you knew it was him.

You hesitated before reaching for the door handle, pulling it open, and confirming your suspicions.

“Hi.” You said, and he returned the greeting with a mumble of his own before the two of you fell into silence again. He opened his mouth as if he wanted to say something else, but couldn’t, instead letting his gaze fall to your lips. You heard the hidden question in his look and opened the door a little wider.

It took only a moment for him to come crashing into you, hands holding your face as his lips met yours in a passionate embrace, drinking you in as again walked you back into your apartment, not even breaking away as he closed the door behind you.

You wrapped your arms up and around his neck, as you let his hands fall to your hips, your chest, your ass, exploring every part of your body he could reach as you stood caught up in each other. In your desperation for each other, you hit walls, and bumped into tables, finally stopping at your kitchen island as he lifted you up, wrapping your legs around his waist as he started pressing kisses down the hollow of your neck.

“I’m sorry,” he muttered between kisses. “I’m sorry. I didn’t know it was your brother and I’m sorry I didn’t come sooner, and I’m sorry I’ve been so weird recently.” You pulled his face back up to your own claiming his lips in yours once again, swallowing each of his other apologies.

He pulled away again, looking at you tenderly as he lifted you into his arms and gently carried you into your room, laying you down on your bed.

“I love you,” he whispered, and the words broke you. You’d spent five years practically begging him to say them, and another year since trying to bury even the very idea of him feeling the same way deep inside you. Tears fell from your eyes and he kissed each one of them away, muttering confessions into your skin.

“I love you, please don’t cry.”

“I love you, you’re so beautiful.”

“I love you and I’m so so sorry.” You pushed him away again slightly, regaining enough of your composure to finally talk again.

“I need to know that you’re serious, Spencer. I can’t… I can’t do this if you’re not totally sure, because it will destroy me.” Your voice broke as the words stumbled over the knot in your throat, your hands balled into his shirt, legs still wrapped around him.

“I’m serious. I don’t want to hurt you ever again.” He pressed his lips back into yours again, and you let the kiss deepen, lips slanting over each other in desperation as the need to be joined overtook your body.

He lifted your skirt, trailing a hand between the two of you as he checked your arousal. You could feel his cock pressing into your thigh, desperate to be freed from it’s restraints. He began kissing his way down your naval, but you pulled him back up.

“No, I need you now. There will be time for that later, but if you don’t do this now I think I’ll drive myself mad with wanting.” His lips reconnected with yours again as you began divesting yourselves of clothing, and within another two minutes, he was pressing into you, muttering more adoring serenades into your skin as he began catching the tears escaping your eyes again.

“Yes, Spencer, more please,” you moaned underneath him, legs tight around him as he began thrusting into you with a ferocity you hadn’t felt from him before. It was tender, but you were both desperate, after months of separation, to come back into one another.

Your lips and teeth clashed together as you let the room echo with your moans, his moans, and the sound of your skin slapping against each other. His forehead came to rest against your own as he grew closer to his release, lips disconnecting as you just stared into each other's eyes in that moment, seeing each other truly for the very first time.

“Y/N, I’m gonna… I’m gonna cum.” He pressed down into you harder, looking down to the place where you were joined and letting out a whispered curse as he watched you take every inch of him. His hips stuttered then, and you felt your own climax reach you as you felt him release into you, his lips softly tracing your own as you breathed each other in again.

He pulled out and immediately went to work making sure you were comfortable, propping you up on the bed, making sure the pillows behind you were plump and soft, and running off to find something to clean yourself up with. You watched him silently, again brushing some of the tears from your eyes.

“How do you feel?” He said shyly as he returned, having pulled his pants back on at least as he bought you a glass of water. You offered him a small smile and a thank you as you replied.

“I think… I think we need to talk, Spencer.” You said, not meeting his eyes as he looked down at you attentively.

“Why did you come tonight, Spencer?” You asked, voice so quiet you resisted the urge to repeat the question, knowing that he heard you perfectly clearly,

“I needed to tell you how I feel. It’s been staring me in the face for six years, and I somehow didn’t know, but once I did I just… I needed you to know.” You nodded at his words, standing still in front of you on the bed as you swung your legs off and asked him to pass you your nightdress back. You pulled it on over your head as you asked him your next question.

“Why did you run away the other day?”

“I didn’t know it was your brother, Y/N, I should’ve-”

“It shouldn’t have mattered who it was. If you love me, you should fight for me, right? The way you fought for Maeve.” Your tears start falling again as you open the wound that brought you this far.

“Y/N, that was… That was different-” You can hear the panic in his voice as he tries to come up with the words to explain himself.

“Spencer, if.. If it’s different then I think you should leave. If you don’t love me the same way you loved her, then there’s no point starting something.”

“Y/N, please.”

“No, Spencer. I have spent six years of my life filled with nothing but love for you. I wake up and think about you, I go to bed and you’re still there in the back of my mind. My every action is informed by your presence and I am so, so tired. So if you do not feel the same way, you need to turn around and leave this apartment.”

The silence between you is thick, as you stare up at him through your tears, face stern as you push him away.

He gathers his things. Moves towards the door and doesn’t say anything, and just as you’re about to break down, to let the sob burst from your chest in an agonized wail, you hear your front door close behind him, and you’re left alone in the empty apartment, stuck in the purgatory of your love for him, unable to move an inch.

#spencer reid #criminal minds #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid smut #mgg #criminal minds fanfiction #criminal minds fandom #spencer reid x self insert #spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid angst #criminal minds angst #spencer reid x reader smut #spencer reid x you #maeve donovan #maturereiding

2K notes · View notes

surielstea · 3 months ago

Text

Camping Affairs

Kinktober day 4: Size + Hair pulling

Pairing: Lorcan Salvaterre x Fem!Reader

Summary: When Reader and Lorcan have to share a tent and can’t find sleep, they find other ways to exhaust themselves.

A. Note: I’m so sorry this is late, it didn’t post when I scheduled it for some reason 😭😭, anywho, this is made specifically for the lovely @lexluvswriting because I’m simply here to feed her Lorcan obsession 🫶

6.9k words.

"You know, for being Maeve's pride and joys you'd think we'd be given better accommodations," I say as I lay out my bedroll, the tent Her Majesty supplied us with so small it was almost comical.

"We're warriors, not royalty," Lorcan grumbled from the outside of the canvas, giving me some privacy as I stripped from my leathers and into a nightgown.

"Speak for yourself," I scoffed, poking my head out of the flaps to look up at him. "Rowan is a prince," I say matter-of-factly. "Perhaps he could pull some strings and get us all our own tent," I suggest and he looks at me with that sneering expression he always wore.

"We've battled in wars, I think you can manage," He grumbled, motioning with his hand for me to recede back into the tent. I frowned but backed up and sidled onto my bedroll. I tried not to laugh at the sight of the seven-foot demi-fae crouching to stop his head from hitting the ceiling of the tent.

He gave me a glare that I assume was meant to intimidate me but it didn't affect me much when he had to walk on his knees in order to settle on his own bedroll.

All seven of Maeve's blood sworn were called to meet with her in Doranelle, something about the Lost Princess of Terrasan— I wasn't really listening when Rowan was briefing us, all I knew was that I was going to have to pack my life up for the crazed queen I was sworn to, again, and take the week hike away from my comfy home in Varese.

With only three tents, the seven of us were split into pairs. Two per tent, and one on watch outside. Gavriel had posed a system to put the smallest and the largest together, as to avoid uncomfortably in the tents— and I hadn't thought it would be a problem until now. Shoulder to shoulder, with my least favorite of the group.

"Why do you have to be built like a damned giant," I grumble as I shift away from him, the side of me pressing into the wall of the tent. I could've shifted onto my side and separated us a little further— but that would mean I'd have to face him, and at this proximity, I doubt it would be comfortable for either of us.

"Would you rather join Rowan and Fenrys?" Lorcan grumbles, sounding like he was talking in my ear he was so close. I smirk at the idea.

"Can't say I'd be displeased in the middle of that," I purr.

Lorcan sighs, muttering a string of curses, too low to make out. "You're insufferable." He decided on voicing.

"And yet, here we are, stuck with each other," I teased, glancing at him from the corner of my eye. "Don't pretend you don't love it."

He snorts. "I could think of better ways to spend my time."

"Oh?" I hum, turning toward him a little more, my cheek propped on my hand. "What would Lorcan Salvaterre rather be doing right now, instead of sharing a tent with yours truly?"

He shoots me a look, dark and brooding, but his lips twitch. "Not listening to you, for starters."

I roll my eyes. "If you weren't so quiet all the time, maybe I wouldn't have to fill the silence."

"There's silence because I'm trying to sleep," he retorts, though his tone is lighter, almost playful—at least, as playful as Lorcan ever gets.

I scoff, grinning. "Please, you never sleep. You just brood all night like some menacing statue."

"You should be grateful," he says, adjusting his position, his shoulder now brushing against mine. "At least I keep the monsters away."

"Monsters?" I snort. "The only thing I'm afraid of in this tent is your enormous leg crushing me in my sleep."

"You talk too much," Lorcan grumbles, though there's the faintest glimmer of amusement in his eyes.

"I talk just enough to drive you insane," I shoot back, feeling a strange sense of victory at the idea of getting under his skin. "It's one of my many talents," I add, worsening the blow.

He doesn't respond, but his silence feels different this time. Like he's deciding whether to engage or just strangle me.

"If you're so miserable," I start, stifling a yawn, "you ought to throw me outside and have the whole tent to yourself," I utter, lifting my arms up over my head and stretching out to the best of my abilities.

"Don't tempt me," he grunts, though I don't miss the way his eyes follow me as I stretch, my movements exaggerated just to annoy him.

"You wouldn't know what to do with yourself," I murmur, settling back down. "Without me to keep you company."

"Go to sleep," he says, ignoring my words.

I smirk up at the stars. "Sweet dreams, Salvaterre."

His grumble is the only reply I get, but for some reason, the sound makes me smile.

The silence stretches on for a few minutes, and I do my best to settle in, but there's no ignoring the cramped space and the sheer presence of Lorcan taking up most of it. After a few more minutes of tossing and turning, I sigh dramatically.

"I can't sleep," I announced, knowing he was still wide awake.

From beside me, Lorcan groans, clearly exasperated. "Of course, you can't," he mutters under his breath, dragging a hand down his face.

"What's that supposed to mean?" I ask, rolling onto my side to face him, our faces just inches apart in the dim light.

"That you're incapable of quieting down for more than a minute," he grumbles, not even bothering to open his eyes.

"I've been quiet for at least five minutes!" I argue, though I can't help the grin tugging at my lips. "And anyway, it's your fault. You're hogging all the space."

He cracks an eye open, giving me a flat look. "You take up about as much room as a pillow. You have plenty of space."

"Then why can't I get comfortable?" I huff, shifting again, this time letting my arm bump against his on purpose.

"You're sleeping with the wolves tonight." He says like it’s a promise.

I gasp dramatically, my hand flying to my chest. "Lorcan Salvaterre, you would abandon me to the creatures of the night? Leave me defenseless and cold?"

"You're hardly defenseless," he says, but I catch the hint of a smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth.

I grin, triumphant. "I knew it—you do care."

"Care? I just don't want to explain to Maeve why I let you get eaten by a wyvern," he grumbles, turning onto his side so his back is to me.

I roll my eyes, inching closer just to annoy him. "You'd miss me," I murmur, as if it was an absent thought.

"Like a hole in my head."

I poke him between the shoulder blades. "Liar. You'd be lost without me. Who else would keep you entertained on these long, miserable missions?"

He doesn't respond right away, but I don't miss the way his shoulders tense at my words. "You're assuming I need entertainment."

"You're assuming you don't," I tease, leaning in until my chin is nearly resting on his arm. "Deep down, I know you love it. My sparkling wit, my endless charm—"

He turns so quickly that I almost tumble backward, his face suddenly centimeters from mine. His dark eyes glint with something that makes my heart skip a beat. "You're lucky I don't actually throw you out of this tent."

I blink up at him, trying to ignore the way my pulse races at the proximity. "You'd never."

His eyebrow raises. "You willing to bet?"

I raise mine right back, leaning in just a fraction more.

"I do." There's a brief moment where neither of us moves, the air between us charged with unspoken tension. Then, with a long-suffering sigh, Lorcan rolls his eyes and collapses back onto his bedroll.

"You're impossible," he mutters, covering his face with his arm. "Go to sleep before I do actually throw you out."

I smirk, victory swelling in my chest. "Admit it—you'd be bored out of your mind without me."

"If I admit it, will you shut up?"

"I'll think about it," I hum, settling back into my bedroll, feeling way more pleased with myself than I should.

"Fine," he growls. "I'd be bored."

I can't help the laugh that bubbles up. "See? Was that so hard?"

Lorcan groans again, louder this time. "It was unbearable."

"Goodnight, Lorcan," I say sweetly, curling up and closing my eyes, but I'm still grinning like an idiot.

From beside me, I hear a quiet mutter, almost too soft to catch. "Goodnight."

We lay there in silence for a few minutes, but as usual, my mind refused to settle. The darkness outside the tent feels suffocating, the air thick with anticipation of the mission ahead. I chew my bottom lip, turning over a dozen questions in my head before finally blurting out the one that's been nagging me all night.

"What do you think Maeve wants from us?"

Lorcan's groan is immediate. "You said you'd shut up," he grumbles, not even opening his eyes.

"I said I'd think about it, Salvaterre," I correct, nudging him with my elbow. "Besides, I can't sleep when you keep kicking me."

He huffs out a breath, lifting his arm from his eyes to glare at me. "I haven't moved an inch."

"Oh, really?" I feign innocence, shifting my foot to gently nudge his leg. "What do you call this?"

"That," he says flatly, "is you kicking me."

"I'm just showing you what it feels like," I shoot back, smirking as I prod his shin again.

"Stop that," he growls.

"I will when you answer my question."

"You should be more worried about surviving the week without me strangling you."

I huff, my face burning, but the silence that follows is heavier now—charged with the tension that neither of us wants to acknowledge. After a beat, I clear my throat, breaking it.

"You still didn't answer my question."

He sighs, long and dramatic. "How should I know? Probably some power play involving the Princess."

"Do you think they’ll ally?" I ask, though I know I'm pushing my luck.

He hesitates, his gaze flicking toward the tent's ceiling. "I don’t know," he admits. "Or she might just want us to deal with something different entirely. Maeve doesn't summon all of us for nothing."

I nod, feeling a shiver run through me. "I just hope we don't end up with another war on our hands."

Lorcan shifts slightly, his massive form somehow taking up even more space. "If we do, I'll be sure to shove you out in front to make use of all that 'charm' you keep going on about."

I roll my eyes, kicking him lightly under the blanket. "You're the worst."

He opens one eye to glance at me, unamused. "If I kill you in your sleep, it's your fault."

"Please," I scoff, sitting up slightly. "You couldn't strangle me even if you tried. I'd have you pinned in a heartbeat."

A low, rumbling chuckle escapes him, one that's more amused than I expected. "You? Pin me?"

I raise an eyebrow, refusing to back down. "You'd be surprised."

He tilts his head slightly, considering me with a dark glint in his eyes. "Go on, then. Prove it."

I blink, caught off guard by the challenge. "What, right now?"

He shrugs, the movement sending a ripple through his broad shoulders. "Unless you're too scared."

I narrow my eyes, inching closer. "I'm not scared."

His lips twitch, just barely, but enough to make my heart pound in my chest. "Then do it."

Before I can talk myself out of it, I shift, moving to straddle his waist. "Okay," I say, though my voice sounds much shakier than I intended. "See? You're completely at my mercy now."

Lorcan, infuriatingly, doesn't look remotely concerned. He just stares up at me, one eyebrow raised, as if waiting for something more. "That's it?"

"Well, I—" I start, but he interrupts by effortlessly grabbing my wrists in one of his massive hands and flipping me over before I can even process what's happening.

In the blink of an eye, I'm pinned beneath him, my back pressing into the bedroll as his weight holds me in place. His face hovers inches above mine, dark and unreadable, though I swear there's a flicker of amusement in his gaze.

"I think that's what you were trying to do," he murmurs, his voice low and dangerous, but with a playful edge.

I glare up at him, trying to squirm, but he doesn't budge. "You cheated."

He leans in slightly, his breath brushing against my cheek. "You didn't give me much of a challenge."

"You're such a brute," I snap, though I'm more frustrated with myself for falling right into his trap.

"I can't believe I made Whitethorn train you instead, this is delightful."

"Oh please, you just forgot the feel of a woman beneath you."

"Care to remind me what I've been missing?" His smirk widens, daring me to say more.

"Depends, what do I get in return?"

"A lesson, maybe I'll teach you what it's like to be beneath someone who knows how to be in control."

His words hang in the air between us, and my breath catches, the challenge in his voice igniting something deep within me. I try to maintain my composure, but the way his dark eyes lock onto mine makes it difficult. There's an intensity in his gaze that makes my heart race, a spark of something primal that sends shivers down my spine.

"Is that so?" I reply, my voice teasing yet laced with curiosity. "And just how do you plan to do that?"

"A demonstration," he murmurs, leaning in closer until his breath warms my skin, his lips hovering tantalizingly above mine.

The space between us crackles with tension, my heart pounding in my chest as I hold his gaze, searching for any sign of hesitation. Instead, I find determination mixed with that devil-may-care amusement that is so quintessentially Lorcan. It drives me wild.

"Show me, then," I challenge, emboldened by the heat of the moment.

A slow smile spreads across his face, and before I can brace myself, he captures my wrists in his powerful hands and shifts, pinning them above my head against the soft canvas of the tent. My breath hitches at the sudden thrill of being completely at his mercy, the weight of his body pressing me into the bedroll, a heady mix of vulnerability and exhilaration flooding my senses.

"Do you trust me?" he asks, his voice low, teasing, but there's an undercurrent of seriousness that sends a thrill racing through me.

"Do I have a choice?" I reply, trying to sound defiant but feeling the flush of excitement creeping up my neck.

"Good answer," he says, leaning down, his lips barely brushing against mine, teasingly close yet just out of reach. The warmth of his breath sends tingles across my skin, and I can't resist the urge to lean in, desperate for that connection.

"Stop teasing," I whisper my heart racing, the air thick with unspoken tension. "Just kiss me already."

With a low growl of approval, he closes the distance, capturing my lips with his in a fierce, passionate kiss. It's electric, a jolt that sends sparks dancing along my nerves, igniting every inch of my skin. The kiss deepens, and I lose myself in the taste of him—warm and intoxicating.

His lips move against mine with a hungry urgency, coaxing me into the rhythm of it. I respond instinctively, wrapping my arms around the nape of his neck, pulling him closer, urging him on. The world outside the tent fades away, leaving only the two of us, entangled in the heat of the moment.

I can feel the weight of his body pressing into mine, the way his strength envelops me, sending a rush of desire coursing through my veins. It's overwhelming and intoxicating, igniting a fire within me that I didn't know was there.

I part my legs and he adjusts, slotting between them— gods it was an effort for my legs to even widen enough. He grabbed my thigh in one of his large hands and guided it up higher, then the other, until I was in a mating press beneath him. He smirked against my lips, his hands moving to trail up my sides. "Now you're really at my mercy," He purred and my core thrummed in anticipation.

"Lorcan," I panted into his open mouth, unable to find the words to tell him how badly I needed this.

"As much as I love the sound of you moaning my name, I need you to stay quiet for me, yeah?" He asked and I sucked in a breath, nodding all too quickly, too desperately.

He smirked at the reaction and captured my lips with his yet again, devouring me as he pried my mouth open with his tongue, exploring me with it, not missing a spot uncovered.

I tugged at the waistband of his pants and he captured my wrist before I could tug them down much further. "Not yet, I need to stretch you out first," He warned, his tone brooking no argument.

I let out a soft whimper of protest and he pressed his mouth onto mine, his voice softening as he said, "I don't want to hurt you, be patient for me and I promise I'll make you feel good alright?" He reassured me, his thumb brushing over the pulse point of my wrist before releasing it.

I nod slowly, slipping my hands into his silky black hair while he pushes up my nightgown.

He practically tore through my panties without a second thought, then froze for a moment before making contact. His eyes flicked to mine and I returned his stare with pleasing eyes and a rapid nod. He leaned down, below my lips and to the line of my jaw, making his way down the column of my throat before his calloused fingertips came to contact with my pulsing cunt.

His lips morphed into a malicious smile as he felt just how badly I needed him, the way I was practically dripping down his hand. "So wet, and here I was thinking you hated me?" He drawled against my skin, kissing down my chest and then back up to the hollow of my throat.

I tug at his hair, silently begging him for more. "Lorcan," I whine, words failing me as I arch into his touch, attempting to get even the smallest taste of pleasure. "Please, touch me," I swallow past the lump in my throat.

"I am touching you, love," He whispered, his breath ghosting over the shell of my ear.

My brows furrowed, features contorting with need. "Inside of me, please," I beg. A smirk pulls at his lips and he leans closer, gently pressing his lips to my cheek— too gentle to be casual. But I didn't have time to weigh the action because suddenly he had two fingers pushing inside of my aching cunt, stretching me out.

A gasp escaped me and he swallowed it greedily before connecting our lips again, silencing me.

His long, calloused fingers pumped skillfully into me, grazing against my contracting walls. "Fuck, you're tight," He breathed as I clenched desperately around his hand, gripping his hair but not pulling. His other hand snaked up my propped-up thigh, pinning it down with a possessive need.

His thumb met my clit and it took everything in me not to scream, to cry out his name. "That's it," He encouraged. "Such a good girl, staying quiet for me," He praised, making the tension in my core tighten until it was nearly unbearable.

My overwhelming need for release was all-consuming, every thrust of his fingers, every roll of his thumb sent me reeling. He knew I was close, knew from the way I was trembling beneath him— I knew that he knew, but still, I cried in protest when his hand stilled.

"Not yet," He warned softly, pulling his hand out of me entirely, leaving me empty and aching. I opened my mouth to protest, to beg him to keep going, but he cut me off with a searing kiss, swallowing my complaints with his lips. "I said, be patient," He whispered against my mouth, his tone dark and commanding. "And when you come, it'll be on my cock. Understood?"

I nodded quickly, my breath coming in desperate pants, the tension in my body screaming for release. But I clamped down on my objections, not wanting him to drag this out longer than he already meant to.

His smirk widened, pleased with my compliance, and he finally rid himself of the last of his clothes, his pants hitting the ground with a soft thud. The sight of him—broad and powerful, his skin glistening in the dim light of the tent—made my pulse quicken, and the need to feel him inside me surged with renewed intensity.

He moved to get rid of my clothes too, still bunched at my hips. Luckily he didn't rip it off of me as he did with my panties, instead guided the material over my head, baring me to the brisk night air and his intense gaze.

"Beautiful," He whispered softly, pressing a claiming kiss to the top of one of my breasts. My lip wobbled with a need to moan but I held it down, instead distracted myself with the sight of him.

His shirtless figure was a sight to behold, carved muscle and a chest as hard as marble, but it was what was below his torso that made me pause.

I had expected Lorcan to be big, but gods. I had been with many men in my immortal life, and still, he made me freeze.

His smirk widened as he noticed where my stare was directed. He settled himself between my thighs, his broad frame dwarfing mine. I could feel the heat of him pressing into me, so much of him. My breath hitched, and his dark eyes flicked down, catching the way I bit my lip as he aligned himself at my entrance. His size alone had me trembling, and he knew it—relishing in the subtle way my body tensed beneath him.

He leaned down, his lips brushing the shell of my ear. "I almost feel bad," he whispered, "about how much I'm going to stretch you out."

A low whimper escaped me, and I felt his grin against my skin. My fingers curled into his hair, tugging lightly as I drew him closer, desperate for more. His eyes darkened as I pulled harder, and I could feel the tension ripple through his body.

"Be good for me, love, and stay still," he purred, voice a velvety rasp. His hips barely moved, teasing me with the blunt head of his cock as he pushed forward just enough to stretch me—just enough to drive me wild. He pulled back before I could feel the full pressure, a low groan rumbling in his chest as he watched my hips arch off the bedding, chasing him.

"You're so desperate," he murmured, his breath hot against my throat, "so needy." His tone was teasing in a way that would usually enrage me, but the way he said it sent a rush of heat to my core instead, making me clench around nothing, aching for him to fill me.

"Lorcan," I whispered, my voice trembling as I shifted beneath him, trying to ease the ache. He groaned at the sound of his name on my lips, and the tension in his body told me he was holding back, keeping himself in check for my sake.

Slowly, torturously, he guided himself to my entrance, the blunt head of his cock teasing me, stretching me open just enough to make me gasp. My nails dug into his shoulders as he began to push forward, the burn of the stretch sending sparks of pain-laced pleasure through my core.

"Fuck," I breathed, my eyes squeezing shut as he inched deeper. He was so big—bigger than I'd expected—and I had to fight to keep my breaths steady as my body adjusted to the size of him.

Lorcan paused for a moment, letting me catch my breath, his large hand caressing my thigh in slow, soothing strokes. "You're doing so well," he murmured, his voice a low rasp, full of restraint. "Just relax for me."

"Stay still," he breathed, voice rough as he pulled back just enough to make me whine, the emptiness unbearable. "Gods, it's hard to control myself when you keep moving like that."

A shiver ran through me at his words, my core clenching around him as he pressed forward again, slow and deliberate, giving me every thick inch of him until I was stretched impossibly full. My legs trembled as they tried to accommodate his size, and his hands came down to hold them steady, lifting my thighs higher, and spreading me wider beneath him.

"That's it, just like that," he murmured, his voice dropping to a growl as he adjusted his angle, sliding deeper still. "Good girl, taking me so well."

I whimpered at the praise, my fingers tangling in his hair, tugging harder now, desperate to feel him move. His breath hitched, a low moan escaping him as I pulled, and I could feel the way it affected him—how much it pushed him closer to the edge of his restraint.

But Lorcan wasn't one to be rushed.

He withdrew agonizingly slow, leaving me panting beneath him, aching for him to fill me again. "You can handle a little more, can't you?" he teased, his lips curling into a smirk as he saw the need in my eyes. My hands moved from his hair to the nape of his neck, trying to pull him back down to me, urging him on, but he caught my wrists with ease, pinning them above my head with one large hand. The contrast in size was startling—his fingers easily wrapping around both of my wrists, holding me completely at his mercy.

He leaned down, his lips barely brushing mine as he whispered, "Stay still, or I'll make you wait longer."

A soft whimper escaped me, and he chuckled darkly, pleased with my compliance. Slowly, he started to move again, his thrusts deep and deliberate, each one drawing out the delicious stretch, making me gasp as he filled me completely, finally bottoming out as his hips pressed into mine.

My body trembled beneath him, the intensity of it building with every slow, torturous thrust. I could feel the thick slide of him inside me, the way my walls clenched around his cock, desperate to hold him, to keep him deep inside. But Lorcan kept up the slow pace, each thrust deeper than the last, drawing me out, making me feel every inch of him.

"Fuck, so tight," he murmured, his voice low and rough, filled with desire. His free hand slid down my side, gripping my waist as he pulled me closer, his hips rolling into me with a new intensity that made me see stars.

"Lorcan," I mewled, writhing beneath him, bucking my hips up to meet his

He let out a low growl as I continued to disobey his order to stay still. "If you keep doing that," he warned, his voice thick with strain, "I'm not going to be able to stop myself."

"Then don't," I breathed, my voice trembling as I arched into him, wanting—needing—more.

His eyes darkened, and before I could say anything else, he was moving again, faster now, his thrusts more intense, each one hitting deeper, making me cry out in pleasure. He swallowed my moans with his mouth, devouring me with a kiss so fierce it left me breathless.

Lorcan's hand, the one not gripping my wrists, slipped between us, his thumb brushing over my clit with just enough pressure to make me gasp, my body jerking beneath him. "Stay quiet," he reminded me, his voice a low growl as his thumb circled slowly, teasingly. "We wouldn't want anyone to hear, would we?"

I shook my head frantically, biting down on my lip to keep from crying out as his pace quickened, the tension inside me building unbearably with every push and pull of his powerful hips, every circle of his thumb on my sensitive clit. I was so close, so on edge, but I knew he wasn't going to let me go just yet. He wanted to drag it out, to make me feel every second of it.

His lips ghosted over my ear as he whispered, "I love how small you feel beneath me—how perfectly you fit around my cock."

His words sent a shiver down my spine, making my walls tighten around him in response. I could feel the heat of his body pressing into mine, the steady rhythm of his thrusts making me dizzy with desire. The way he filled me, stretched me, it was almost too much—almost, but not enough.

I wanted more. I needed more.

He pulled back just enough to smirk down at me, his eyes gleaming with dark satisfaction. "Gods, you're so fucking tight," he growled, his voice low and guttural as he picked up the pace, thrusting into me harder, deeper. My body arched beneath him, instinctively chasing the pleasure only he could give me.

His hand, still holding my wrists above my head, tightened its grip, his other sliding down my body to grab hold of my waist, pulling me against him with each thrust. The intensity was overwhelming, but I craved every second of it. His thumb returned to my clit, circling it with maddening precision, making my toes curl and my breath catches in my throat.

I bit down on my lip, desperate to keep quiet as he'd commanded, but it was nearly impossible with the way he was driving me to the brink, over and over again. I could feel the pressure building in my core, a white-hot ball of tension that threatened to unravel me at any moment.

"You close baby?" Lorcan rasped, his voice rough as he ground his hips into mine, each thrust hitting deeper than the last. His thumb pressed harder on my clit, the friction sending shockwaves through my body.

I nodded frantically, unable to form coherent words, my head spinning with the need for release.

"Beg for it," he commanded, his breath hot against my ear as he continued his relentless pace, driving me wild. "Beg me to let you come."

I whimpered, my body trembling beneath him as I struggled to find the words. "Please, Lorcan," I whispered, my voice shaking as I arched up against him, desperate for more. "Please, please I can't hold it— I need it, Lor."

He groaned at my words, his thrusts becoming harder, more erratic, his control slipping. "Good girl," he growled, his voice thick with desire. "Go ahead, come on my cock."

With those words, the tension inside me snapped. My entire body clenched around him, my back arching off the bed as I came undone, the wave of pleasure crashing over me so violently I saw stars. I bit down on my lip, stifling the scream that threatened to escape as my orgasm tore through me, every nerve in my body alight with sensation.

Lorcan let out a low, guttural groan as he felt me clench around him, his pace faltering as he chased his own release. His hips snapped into mine one last time, burying himself deep inside me as he came with a low growl, his body trembling with the force of it.

For a long, breathless second, neither of us moved, the sounds of our ragged breathing the only thing filling the air. But as the intensity slowly ebbed, Lorcan pulled back, his smirk already returning to his lips. He let out a satisfied hum as he leaned down to press a lazy kiss to my jaw. "See? You can follow orders when you really want to."

I swatted his chest weakly, a smirk tugging at my lips. "Don't get used to it," I said, still panting, though my voice had a playful edge to it.

He chuckled, rolling off me and settling onto his side, his large arm draped possessively over my waist. "I don't need to. You'll break soon enough."

I snorted, feeling the familiar banter falling back into place. "You're dreaming, Salvaterre. If anything, you're the one breaking. You were practically trembling back there."

His dark eyes flashed with amusement, and he leaned down to brush his lips against my ear. "Oh, sweetheart," he murmured, his voice low and teasing. "If I was really trying to break you, you wouldn't even be able to walk right now."

I rolled my eyes, unable to stop the grin tugging at my lips. "Bold words for an old man who can barely control himself."

He raised a brow, his grip on my waist tightening just enough to remind me of his strength. "Care to test that theory?"

I shot him a challenging look, though the heat still lingered in my veins. "Maybe next time," I teased, flipping onto my side to face him, our noses brushing and suddenly the tent didn't feel all that small. "You've got to save some energy if you plan on keeping up with me, after all."

His eyes glinted with amusement, and the playful edge in his smile sent a shiver of anticipation through me. "Oh, you have no idea what you've just gotten yourself into,"

With a wink, I scooted a little further from him— well, as far as I could, feigning innocence. "Well, in that case, let's see if you can keep your hands to yourself until morning."

Lorcan's low chuckle reverberated in the tent, his eyes gleaming with challenge as he watched me. "Go to sleep already," He insisted. I look at him, staring at his features softened by the moonlight filtering through the canvas.

And as I settled back into the blankets, his body warm beside mine, I couldn't help but smirk, knowing that the game between us was far from over. "Goodnight, Lor," I mumble quietly.

The faint light of dawn filtered through the tent, pulling me from sleep. The warmth of Lorcan's body was missing, and the space beside me felt cool to the touch. I blinked groggily, rubbing the sleep from my eyes as I rolled onto my back, pulling the thin blankets over my bare body, the events of the previous night replaying in my mind.

I swallowed hard, my heart thudding as I thought about everything—what it meant to have crossed that line with Lorcan. We'd been stuck in this tense back-and-forth, pushing each other's buttons ever since I met the male, but last night had changed everything, we stepped past a boundary we couldn't come back from. A part of me wondered if it would be different now, or if he'd go back to being the brooding, impossible male he was before. My chest tightened, but I pushed the thought aside. No use overthinking it, especially when we had a mission to accomplish.

I took a deep breath, sitting up and squaring my shoulders as I reached for my clothes, trying to act as normal as possible. We had orders and obligations, and I couldn't afford to be distracted by what happened between us. But gods, it was hard to ignore the lingering ache in my body, between my legs, the reminder of how thoroughly Lorcan had claimed me.

I ran my hands through my messy head of hair and braided it back to have somewhat of a semblance of neatness. With my nightgown replaced by my gear, I slipped out of the tent, the early morning air crisp against my skin, my boots crunching on the fallen leaves. As I approached the campfire, I spotted Lorcan among the rest of Maeve's blood sworn—all gathered around, the smell of campfire smoke filling my senses.

The moment I stepped to where the rest sat, Fenrys' head snapped up, a mischievous grin spreading across his face. "Well, well," he drawled, his golden eyes sparkling with amusement. "Look who decided to join us."

I forced a casual smile, pretending I hadn't noticed the way the rest of the males exchanged looks. "Good morning," I said, keeping my voice steady, though I could feel the heat rising in my cheeks. I kept my eyes off Lorcan as I took a seat beside the white wolf, ignoring the tension in my stomach that was somewhere between knots and butterflies.

Lorcan didn't say anything, but I could feel his presence in front of me, his tall frame looming over the fire as he flipped something on the skillet. I couldn't tell what it was amidst the flames, but with the way Vaughan and Rowan were wincing something told me it was a bird one of the others seemed good enough to eat.

Rowan raised a brow at me, his sharp gaze flicking between Lorcan and me before he smirked. "You sleep well?" he asked innocently, though the gleam in his eyes betrayed him.

I shot him a sidelong glance. "As well as I could, considering someone was snoring."

Fenrys snorted, nudging Gavriel on the other side of him, who was trying—and failing—to keep a straight face. "Must've been some noise last night," Fenrys said under his breath, not bothering to hide the grin that tugged at his lips.

Heat surged to my face, and I glared at him. "I don't know what you're talking about."

Gavriel gave a soft cough that sounded suspiciously like a laugh, while Fenrys outright cackled. "Don't worry," Fenrys said, flashing me a wink. "No judgments here."

My face felt like it was on fire, and I was sure my expression was betraying me, but I shot back, "How sweet of you, Fenrys."

"You know, if you ever grow bored of the brooding male you could always come join me in my tent instead," Fenrys added, leaning back on his palms with his signature smirk. "I could show you what it's like to really be loud," He suggested and I swore Lorcan's knuckles turned white he was gripping his hunting knife so tightly. But he remained steady, didn't so much as look at us as he awaited my reply.

"Tempting, Fenrys, but I think I'll stick with what I have. Once you go tall, dark, and brooding, it's hard to go back." I say, flicking my gaze past the fire to Lorcan, whose shoulders visibly relaxed.

Fenrys clenched at his chest, pretending to be mortally wounded. "Ah, so it's like that, is it?" he quipped, but the glint in his eye said he was far from offended. "I guess I'll just have to find solace in knowing I could've changed your life forever."

I grinned, leaning back on my hands as I shot him a mock-sympathetic look. "You'll survive, Fenrys. I hear rejection builds character."

He was about to retort when Rowan chimed in, his deep voice filled with dry amusement. "I don't know, Fenrys. After last night, it sounds like she found someone more than capable of showing her a good time."

My cheeks flamed as I glared at Rowan, though I couldn't help the laugh that bubbled up. "You too, huh?" I shot back.

Before Fenrys could continue the teasing, Lorcan finally broke his silence, his voice a low, gravelly rumble. "Don't you have better things to do than gossip about things that don't concern you?" He still didn't look up from the skillet, but the hard set of his jaw and the tension in his broad shoulders were unmistakable.

Vaughan, silent as ever, gave a half-shrug, tossing a stick into the fire as he added his two cents, his voice calm but amused. "Considering the noise last night, it kind of does concern all of us."

A chorus of snickers followed, and even Gavriel cracked a grin. My face went up in flames, and I buried it in my hands. "You all need better hobbies," I muttered into my palms, but it did nothing to stop the laughter ringing through the camp.

I turned my head just enough to catch Lorcan's eyes as he finally glanced over at me, the firelight flickering in his gaze. The corner of my lips lifted in a challenging smirk.

"If you lot are done, breakfast is ready." He moved and passed me a plate, his warm hand brushing against mine for just a second—a flicker of something unspoken passing between us—before he turned back to the skillet.

The knowing looks from the others didn't stop throughout breakfast. Fenrys continued to make sly comments, Rowan smirked every time Lorcan so much as glanced at me, and even Gavriel, the most serious of the group, couldn't completely hide his amusement.

I had managed to block all of their comments and snickering remarks out, but for some reason, I wasn't able to shake the stare Lorcan had pinned on me.

I looked over to him and for a moment his eyes flicked down to my lips, a challenge. I smirked, beckoning him to test the silent boundaries. He didn't move, but he didn't look away either, and something told me we were nowhere near finished with each other.

Comment or reblog with a “💋” to be added to the kinktober taglist!

Kinktober Taglist: @a-courtof-azriel @rosecobollway @bookwormysblog @whataenginerd @sassyangel16 @lorosette @92404-blog1 @skittslackoffilter @scorpioriesling @pey2618 @scarsandallaz @azysmate @iluvyewman-blog @obliviouslittleminx @hailqueenconquer @buckysfavoritedoll @fourthwing4ever

285 notes · View notes

scififettuccine · 6 months ago

Text

The Boys Fic Requests

Hey Ya'll! I've been in Voughtland mentally recently with the release of Season 4, and I wanted to start writing some fics to put my ideas on paper. I have a few starting ideas but I wanted opinions on which I should work on first! I colored some of them that can be spun into any genre using red, including smut if anyone is interested 👀👀👀 Here are a few of the things I was interested in working on:

-Maeve x Fem!Reader

-Father!Homelander x Child!Reader

-BigBrother!Homelander x Little sibling!Reader

-Father!Stan Edgar x Child!Reader

-FatherFigure!Butcher x SupeChild!Reader

-Father!Soldier Boy x Child!Reader

-Butcher x Supe!Reader

-Frenchie x Male!Reader

-Victoria Neuman x Fem!Reader

-MM x Reader

-Hughie x Male!Reader

-Soldier Boy x Sidekick!Reader

If you have any preferences on which one you'd be most interested in seeing, totally let me know! You can also always request fics/headcanon/oneshot in my asks! Adieu!

237 notes · View notes

ferrarifinnick · 5 months ago

Text

risk | homelander, starlight

starlight x reader x homelander

the vought boardroom is for business, not pleasure. they say not to mix those two things together, but just this once won't hurt... right?

note: this is a reimagined version of attention, but this time lighter on the smut and heavier on homelander's involvement. this has not been proofread oops. only my second fic on the boys, what do you think? and i hope you like it!! love <3 masterlist

warnings: light smut, teasing, flashing, the deep, homelander, lots of boob action, tension, pretty mild for the most part

2.3k

Homelander endlessly paced back and forth. If you couldn't see his boots thumping the tiled floor of the Vought boardroom, you'd have been certain he'd burned his stress into the ground for all to see. Homelander wasn't known for privatising his feelings, after all.

For over forty minutes, your head swung left to right, following Homelander's frame, tuned in to the same unrelenting speech about the importance of statistics.

"If we don't boost our numbers with them," he referred to yet another protected class of people, "who knows what they'll turn to in our absence? Drugs, alcohol, maybe even murder — you name it!"

You sucked in another breath, fighting with all your might to repress the urge to roll your eyes into the back of your skull. Homelander wouldn't appreciate that. Not that Maeve wasn't nearly constantly taking glimpses of her brain out in the open for Homelander to catch. He'd have to stop pacing for that, though, and that didn't seem likely for at least another hour. Or until Deep rolled the wheels of his desk chair too loudly. He fell into that habit at the hour-twenty mark usually, so there was still a chance at the meeting ending early. And in flames, too, probably.

How his legs weren’t aching in the slightest baffled you. Not that you were staring... well, maybe you were. That suit did wonders for him. Thick thighs, meaty calves, just how you liked your superheroes. If only he wasn't clinically insane.

Your eyes shot open at the sound of the boardroom doors creaking open. With the rest of the Seven — or six, really, since Starlight was missing from the table — you glanced at the door.

There she stood small like a mouse, head sheepishly hanging down. Oh — and half naked.

Only when Homelander gleefully cheered "Ah, there she is!" did you realise you were gawking. Like the loose anchor of a boat, you reeled your jaw back up until it lifted back into place, clenching it hard as if to secure it. But really, it was to refocus your body on a different sensation to the one burning between your legs.

"I'm sorry I'm late. Took longer than we expected with wardrobe."

Homelander waved a hand dismissively, grinning so wide his eyes were half-shut. "Nonesense," he insisted, gesturing for her to take her place in the seat reassigned to her after Translucent's death. She obeyed, arms quickly crossing over her chest once she caught Deep practically panting over her, but the closer she got to the conference table, the tighter she held herself.

Homelander nodded in approval once she sat down. He slapped his hands together, sending a ripple through the silence of the boardroom. "Isn't this great?" He said, glancing from Starlight at the one end of the pointed table, to Noir at the other. "Look at us, back together," he said, slinging an arm over Maeve's stiff shoulder. "A united little front in the face of evil." He grinned gleefully down at Maeve, swooping in to plant a dry kiss on her hair. "Aren't we just a dashing little team?"

Deep quickly blurted out, "Best team ever, Homelander."

The grin faltered, but Homelander quickly stretched it back up into place. "Yeah," he muttered, but quickly cleared his throat to add, "Yes, thank you, Deep."

"You're welcome, Homelander." Smug, Deep rolled his shoulders back and glanced over at you, raising his brows as if to say did you see that?!

You nodded with exhausted enthusiasm, catching the roll of your eyes before Deep — or worse yet, Homelander — could clock it.

"So, Starlight, as I was just saying," Homelander continued, "We have to polish up our numbers. Sweep off the dust with the ladies," he said, gesturing to a screen on the wall with a diagram outlining a decline in interaction with women. "We could pump out some chick-flick girl power movie but that barely did anything for Maeve last time." Homelander's boots carried him back into the same line of pacing as earlier. "No, we can't do that, what's the point?" He mumbled into the palm of his hand as he caressed his cheeks.

Your head swung back and forth again. He rambled out into the room about the options, but with his hand now tightly cupping his mouth, he was almost completely inaudible.

With his head hung down, deep in thought, you snuck a glance at Starlight. She watching Homelander like a hawk, completely oblivious as you raked your eyes over her new super suit. The sleeves were gone, so was most of the fabric covering her chest. You glanced under the table. The skirt of her dress stretched up so high it was a wonder you couldn't see her panties.

What colour were they? White like her dress? Yellow like the accent on her suit? The urge to lift up her skirt to find out for yourself grew palpable, but you planted your boots into the ground in what you thought of as protest to your naughty mind.

You glanced around the table, sure to keep your head unnoticably still, and found nearly everyone else observing — no, ravishing—Starlight's freshly exposed skin. Animals, every one of them. You returned to Starlight, only to find her staring back at you.

She snapped her head back at Homelander with such speed you wondered how her head managed to stay attached to her shoulders. As if nothing happened, she stared silently as Homelander, her shoulders relaxed, hands resting loosely on the table in front of her. A coincidence, you convinced yourself. Two girls looking at each other at the same time, that's all. Nothing else to it, right? You bought your own thoughts. That was until you noticed the red creeping up her neck, painting her cheeks.

Was she blushing?

The twitch of your lips, pulling to one side with pride, took over you before you could control it. You flattened your mouth back into a straight line just as Maeve shot you an eyeroll as Homelander's ramblings continued again.

'Kill me' she mouthed, slumping back in her chair.

You stifled a snicker. Homelander suddenly spun on his feet. "Something funny?" He asked you, brow peaked up so high it lifted halfway up his forehead.

"Not at all, Homelander," you replied calmly, convincingly, offering all your composure wrapped up in a single smile. "What were you saying about the, ehem, bitter old cat ladies?"

"Ah, yes! As I was saying..." he continued on.

The beating in your chest calmed back into its regular rhythm. That is, until you glanced over at Starlight once more and caught her adjusting her sitting position. She uncrossed her legs, both heeled boots now pressed against the floor. It wasn't until she crossed her legs again that you caught it.

Red panties.

It was gone as quickly as you'd seen it. Her legs crossed again, absentmindedly swaying one foot as she listened to Homelander. This time it was your cheeks dyed with a flash of red, and before it could settle back down somewhere other than your face, Starlight snuck a glance at you.

Was that a smirk? Oh, it was definitely a smirk.

She might have a new — and definitely improved — super suit, but she was forgetting that two could play that game.

You reached for the glass of water on the table in front of you. Small sips, just a little bit of hydration to focus your mind. Starlight glanced over again, and a splash of water just so happened to spill onto the chest piece of your suit. It clung to the curve of your breasts, and deliciously, it highlighted the peaks of your nipples poking out in protest to the coldness of the water.

"Oh my," you gasped, setting the glass back onto the table.

The Deep immediately lurched out of his seat with a napkin stolen from the table. "I'll help you!" he said, his eyes blown wide with excitement as he gaped at your tits.

"Sit down," Homelander barked, hand on his shoulder forcing back into his seat. "Here," he said, and held out a handkerchief from some mysterious pocket in his suit. He watched as you made a show of patting down your breasts, careful not to block Starlight's view as they bounced as your rubbed them dry.

"Thank you," you smiled sweetly up at Homelander who made no secret of observing your wet breasts.

He offered his most affectionate smile back, the kind that promised he wasn't a psychopath hiding behind a pretty face. "Are you alright?" He asked, placing a gentle hand on your shoulder.

"You know me," you dismissed his concern playfully, "Butterfingers."

Homelander took one last look at your breasts and sauntered back to his place at the top of the table. You shot Starlight a challenging lift of your brow, and she all but scowled at you. Under the table, you suddenly watched as her legs uncrossed. Her manicured hands floated down to her knees, delicately trailing up to the hem of her skirt.

You snuck one last glance up at her mischievous eyes. She quickly eyed the room and, satisfied that nobody but you was paying her any mind, she parted her thighs, those red panties glaring out at you against the white of her dress. But the red of her panties meant nothing to you when she pulled them aside and flashed the delicious pink hiding underneath.

With blown eyes you gawked at her. She slowly ran a finger down her wet folds, starting at her swollen clit and dipping down to her glistening little opening. Before you realised, her white skirt once again concealed all colour and her thighs squeezed together as she crossed her legs.

She lifted her hands back above the table top, and with one last glance around the room, she presented her glistening finger and plunged it between her lips.

'Tease' you mouthed to her with a short-lived glare, shaking your head at the smug smirk she shot back, as if to say beat that.

Your mind raced for the next move. A hand reached for the chest of your damp suit, but before you could prepare your next move, Homelander's voice flooded the room.

"I have an idea."

The eyes of The Seven landed upon him. He basked in the attention first, and then he finally sank into his chair.

"Deep, ask me how we improve our numbers with the ladies."

"Uhm," Deep said, sitting up in his chair. "How do we improve our numbers with the ladies, Homelander?"

"Well, Deep, that's a great question."

"Thank you, Homelander." He once again turned to you with bubbling excitement.

"The way we improve isn't with chick-flicks or higher profile arrests," he said, and finally, his eyes landed on you. "It's with our two girls, right here," he said, gesturing between you and Starlight. "What do ladies love more than a chick-flick?" He asked, as if challenging you to answer him. But you knew better. Something was coming, and you'd be damned and you'd be lasered if you dared ruin his moment to punish you. "A love triangle."

You blinked. A what?

A quick glance around the room at the other confused faces supported your own questions.

Deep asked quietly, "Does Walmart carry those, or...?"

"Two women, fighting against each other to capture the heart of America's most eligible bachelor... me."

You shot a glance towards Starlight, who, collapsing into herself like a dying star, seemed to have already come to the same conclusion as you did. You looked back at his smirk.

Homelander knew. He knew what took place between you, what game you were playing during his own meeting. But how? He seemed to understand your silent question and glanced over his shoulder at one of the windows.

"It's like a mirror at night, isn't it?"

The glass against the low light of the New York skyline reflected the boardroom more than it did the other skyscrapers, and that's when you realised you could see Starlight's lap, clear as day.

Homelander, eyes locked on yours, nodded. He knew. He watched the whole exchange. He knew what you both wanted, and he knew he could rip it away from you just as easily as he could laser your brains into a pile of bloody mush on the floor.

"Mindflood fueding with Starlight, all over little old me," he said, unable to resist the prideful grin stretching across his face. Was this the first time he'd ever been modest about himself? "Team Mindflood versus Team Starlight..." he banged his fists against the table excitedly. "That out to get the numbers up, right ladies?"

He didn't care about an answer.

But you cared less about his feelings.

"How exactly is that going to work? What are we going to suddenly throw down in public over who gets to suck you off first?"

"That sounds entertaining, don't you agree, Deep?"

"Yeah! ...Ehem. Yes, Homelander."

Homelander taunted you with a grin. "Who wants to go first?" He asked, predating his laugh while patting his thighs gleefully.

You didn't need to look at her. You knew Starlight was looking to you for guidance.

"Oh, I don't know, Homelander," you said, batting your lashes and squeezing your arms to the sides of your chest, pushing your breasts together. He glanced down at your still damp tits.

"Do you really want to share?" You pulled your lip between your teeth "Three's a crowd and all."

Homelander seemed to weigh it in his head. But when his elbows rested on the table, head cocked to the side with unwavering confidence, he asked, "Oh, but you see, almost nobody pays attention to a show of just two..." he trailed off, and you knew he meant the little show you and Starlight just put on for each other. "Almost nobody."

He patted his thighs again. This time the smile was gone. "Time to practise," he ordered, unzipping his pants. "So, ladies," his eyes shone a bright red. "Who's going to make this show really interesting?"

#the boys #homelander x reader #starlight x reader #homelander #starlight #smut #the boys x reader #materlist #the deep #queen maeve #black noir #the boys smut #erin moriarty x reader #erin moriarty #antony starr x reader #antony starr

165 notes · View notes

bohemianblasphemy · 5 months ago

Text

okay, but butcher fucking you in the office after everyone has gone.

the faint glow of a desk lamp, illuminating the desk that you were currently sitting upon. butcher has your legs spread apart and his face buried between them. his tongue fucking your entrance before gliding its way up to your clit, circling around the sensitive nub. your hands are tangled in his dark hair and pulling him closer, desperate to have more of his tongue. he chuckles and looks up at you, his mouth and beard is covered in your wetness. “ look at you love, desperate for my tongue. you’re fuckin’ soaked.” his fingers run across your pussy, collecting your slick before placing them in his mouth- tasting you once more.

“s-shit billy i want you to fuck me… please…” you moaned in desperation, pulling him up to stand in front of you. he teases “look at you, beggin’ for my fuckin’ cock in our office- what a naughty fuckin’ slut you are.” he gestures to his belt, wanting you to take it off for him. “well go on luv, you want it so badly come an’ get it.” he smirks at you, knowing that was going to piss you off, you rolled your eyes at him before you reach down and unbuckle the belt, sliding it through the loops before tossing the piece of leather aside. you pulls his hips closer to you, unfastening the button on his black jeans and pushing them down along with his underwear, revealing his heavy, thick cock- your mouth waters at the sight of his length.

you spat into your hand before wrapping your hand around his cock. you slowly pumped your fingers up and down him, earning breathy moans from his mouth. he suddenly locks eyes with you and swats your hand away from him, he clears some scattered items on the desk you were sat upon, and lays you down on your back. he pulls his pants further down his thighs and lines himself up with you. he uses the head of his cock to tease your folds, tapping your clit with it. he smirked as he watched you squirm and buck your hips up to gain more friction from him. “you gotta beg for it babe, i wanna hear ya…” he teases, know that was going to drive you insane. “butcher please no games, i need you so fucking bad.” he tutted, shaking his head. “nuh uh, i need more than that.” he smirked, slowly pulling himself away from you. you whined at the loss of contact and groaned in frustration. “please butcher please, i need you to fuck me, i want it so so badly… please.” you pleaded, looking up at him.

his eyes never leave yours, and he flashes his devilish smile. “that’s my girl… that’s what i wanna hear.” he whispers before slowly stepping forward, bringing your hips closer to him and sinking his cock deep inside you. the sinful sounds of skin and moans filled up the empty space. his thrusts are rough and passionate, hitting every sensitive spot inside of you. he rubs your clit with his thumb which makes your experience all the more pleasurable. butchers grunts get louder as he gets closer to the edge.

he suddenly sits you up, supporting your back with his forearm. he has you chest to chest, both of your foreheads pressed together. you reach out to grab the back of his head to pull him in for a kiss, which he gladly reciprocates. “god you feel so fucking good around me… you’re gonna make me fuckin’ cum in your cunt.” he growls, his thrusts getting sloppier by the second. your breathing gets shallower and the heat builds up inside of you, nearing your climax. “god fuck- i’m gonna cum-“ you’re cut off with a searing kiss from butcher, a few final thrusts and you become undone around him, moaning into his mouth. he soon follows up with his own climax, filling up your cunt with his cum. he stands there for a moment, looking at your wet eyes and puffy lips- admiring your features before pulling himself out.

he pulls you in for yet another kiss, lazily kissing each other for a few minutes. he pulled away and stroked your cheek with his thumb and he whispered “you did so well f’me… let’s get ya cleaned up…”

i hope you enjoyed! ✨

#may or may not have been inspired by queen maeve n butcher scene #billy butcher #the boys #amazon the boys #billy butcher x reader #billy butcher brainrot go brr #the boys tv #billy butcher smut #karl urban #billy butcher imagine #pookie bear

185 notes · View notes

de4dlyniightshade · 11 months ago

Note

LITTLE BLURB ON SPENCER WAKING UP WITH THAT PAINFULLY HARD MORNING WOOD PLS PLS??

That one hc where you explained bro would rut his hips into the air, the tip of his cock rubbing against the material of his underwear making him whimper, GOD I NEED A BLURB FOR THAT PLS MAMA🙏

꩜ PAIRING: spencer reid x afab!reader

꩜ RATING: +18, mdni

꩜ WARNINGS/CONTAINS!: smut, male masturbation(kinda), morning wood, cumming in pants, that's abt it.

[WARNING!] - explicit sexual content! mdni!

spencer hated a lot of things about being away from you on cases, there was the fact he couldn't ramble to you about anything and had to be professional all the time, also that he couldn't just be in your company of course. he couldn't touch you, kiss you, hug you, hold your hand, nothing, but worst of all he hated waking up without you.

you had fell into a pretty unconventional morning routine with spencer after you realised that every morning without fail he was hard, it was never because of anything specific or because he had a dream about you, he just always woke up hard, even before you met him. so it quickly became a routine that he would wake up before you, patiently wait for you to wake up, kiss you and then you'd help him out a little, it was truly a dream for any man and he loved it but the only downside was when you weren't there, like now.

spencer had been on a case for not even a week and he was struggling, every single morning he was aching in his pants and his own hand just wasn't the same, he was grouchy to say the least, so much so that even derek noticed, spencer having been a little snarky with him.

this day was the worst by far though. the rest had been bad but bearable, the odd day being easy enough to just let his dick chill out on its own but not today, today spencer woke up lined in sweat, his hair sticking to his forehead and the back of his neck, his shirt clinging to him, throat dry and his cock painfully hard in his pants.

spencer knew you can't control your dreams but god he wished he could so he didn't have to wake up from an unattainable fantasy of your mouth wrapped around his cock. usually he didn't have too many raunchy dreams about you, it was almost as if his brain knew you were there and he didn't need dreams to imagine you like that but in the same way it's like his brain knew you weren't there right now.

he couldn't help but let out a whine at the feeling of his length straining against his clothes and also at the realisation that this one was not going away on its own and he had to have a very desperate, very lacklustre jerk off in a hotel room alone, it truly was not his proudest moment.

still delirious and full of sleep he opted for letting his hips roll upward for some friction, his tip brushing the material of his pyjamas making him gasp slightly, the usually soft material feeling so rough against his sensitive cock.

shamefully, he couldn't help but do it again, rutting his hips into nothing just for a little stimulation on his aching length, a pathetic whimper slipping past his lips as he repeated the motion, and then again, and again until he was practically fucking the inside of his clothes.

it was pathetic and he knew it but he just couldn't stop himself, the thought of having to actually jerk off just seemed like so much effort and why would he when this felt so good?

what he didn't realise is that it felt a little too good but he was so caught up in the pleasure and sleepy daze that before he knew it he was choking out a whimper as he spilled into his pants, warm spurts of cum soiling his pyjamas and coating his skin as he continued to whimper and gently rut his hips.

when he finally came down from his high he couldn't help but sigh at himself, he truly felt pathetic, he had just desperately humped nothing until he came in his pants, definitely not his proudest moment but also a moment of clarity that he was not made for being separated from you.

1K notes · View notes

buddiesronance · 1 year ago

Text

clicking off a spencer fic as soon as i see “mentions of maeve” 🥰

#yes i dislike maeve #and i’m not scared to admit it #also nothing against you if you’ve written it #spencer reid #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid smut #spencer reid fanfic #criminal minds

526 notes · View notes

gorgeys · 4 months ago

Note

hi! big fan of ur maeve works omgg.. wld u consider writing a piece where maeve takes homelander’s wife? i can so see him bringing in his wife, supe or not, to fancy events as a trophy wife. maybe maeve steals her away at some point & realizes she’s 1) a lot smarter & capable than homelander plays her off as and 2) just as eager to get her hands on maeve as maeve is to have her.

just think of the messiest trio shit you’ve ever witnessed. homelander probably knows, too. I don’t even think he’d be mad. two of the hottest women in the world are linking.. he’d prob ask to watch <\3 but erm yeah also don’t feel like u have to write major homelander bits like this is maeve content I just think it’s funny he’s like “damn…. can I join u lovely ladies 🥺” - 🐠

queen maeve x homelander's wife!reader

I LOVE THIS IDEA! THANK U SM FOR THIS REQ!!

this is also over 3k words so brace yourself

warnings: smut - oral, fingering, strap-on, homelander being a dick

the seven is dumbfounded that anyone's agreed to marry homelander, let alone stay married to him, especially maeve who knows first hand how difficult he is. and they're absolutely astounded that he's landed a baddie like you, but there you are, his hot trophy wife, hanging off his arm at every vought function.

every person in america knows homelander and yours' love story (thanks to vought's relentless marketing team): homelander saved you from a bombing and as soon as he landed safely on the ground with you in his arms, it was love at first sight and the rest was history and blah blah blah.

the part maeve can't believe is that you--gorgeous, angelic you--would ever fall for that monster.

you were called a trophy wife for a reason; just looking at you would make most men cream their pants, maeve included. when you spoke, she just stared at your lips. when you walked away, her eyes shamelessly followed you. when you looked at homelander with all that adoration behind your eyes, she wished she had the power to pop his head like neuman. but of course, you were a distant, unattainable fantasy.

homelander had you on a tight leash, always keeping a hand on you at all times and jokingly threatening the life of any executive that even looked at you with a sign of lust. of course, he wasn't joking. he had killed men for simply touching your shoulder.

he also did the usual homelander things: talking over you, sometimes groping you in public, and constantly repeating the story of how the two of you met to anyone who would listen, especially stressing the part where you were a damsel in distress whose life he graciously saved.

because of homelander, maeve decided to admire you from afar. that was until one fateful night.

she was smoking alone in the bathroom after escaping another routine vought event where she was forced to keep up appearances. she had intentionally gone up to the 99th floor, knowing the bathroom would be empty since the event was taking place on a lower floor. that's why she was surprised when she heard another set of heels on the tiles behind her.

"can i get a drag?" you ask as she turns to face you. you're already smiling at her, but not that big, toothy smile you give to all the businessmen. it's a natural one.

she extends her arm to offer you the cigarette, so you walk up to her and accept it. she watches as you bring it to your red lips with ease that only a routine smoker could possess.

"i didn't know you smoked," she says, crossing her arms over her chest. it seems oddly out of character for homelander's perfect housewife.

"i shouldn't. and i didn't used to," you say, the smoke leaving your lips in a short puff. "not before i met homelander. i mean, i of all people should know how bad it is," you say, handing back the cigarette and turning toward the mirror to inspect your appearance.

"what's that supposed to mean?" she asks, her eyes never leaving your face.

"oh, i was a doctor. you know, before all this," you say nonchalantly, fixing your hair. maeve's eyes widen in surprise.

"wait, really?"

"yup," you say, as if you expected her surprise. it makes sense since most people assume homelander's wife is just a pretty face, not someone who once possessed one of the most difficult and esteemed careers. "four years of undergrad, four years of med school, four years of residency, only to practice for one year. what a fucking waste."

well that's why homelander never let you speak—he didn't want everyone to realize you were smarter than him.

"fuck," she says, still a little shocked as she diverts her gaze to look at you through the mirror. "what kind of doctor?"

"ER. shit was crazy but i loved it. and i was good at it. i was always good with the people," you say with a sad smile.

looking back, it makes sense to maeve. you knew how to talk to, but more importantly, listen to, any person that approached you and homelander. you were extremely emotionally intelligent. and obviously book smart as well, considering your profession. you really were everything homelander wasn't.

"because i really cared, y'know? i really wanted to make a difference," you say with the shake of your head. that thought seemed so trivial now.

"it's like looking in a mirror," maeve says, literally looking into the mirror at your reflection. she had never realized how similar the two of you were.

"but then he saved me and suddenly it was all gone."

"they made you stop when you got married?"

"well, he made me stop," you say. she can see the hurt in your eyes. "because you can't be a doctor and homelander's wife. no, that wouldn't be fair to him," you say, a hint of contempt evident in your usually sweet tone.

"asshole," maeve says, the hate far more obvious in her voice. "i never understood why you were with him. i don't think any of us did. and now i'm just more confused."

"well, i could say the same about you," you say, suddenly turning your head to look right at her. "why were you ever with him?"

"because i polled higher when we were together," she answers honestly, getting an endearing smile out of you.

"yeah, i assumed," you say. "although he's still adamant that you were once hopelessly in love with him. i don't wanna burst his bubble, but i always knew you were too good for him."

"we say the same thing about you," maeve says, the beginnings of a smile on her face.

"don't flatter me," you say, pulling your lip gloss out of your bag. "i'll get a big head."

"can't be bigger than his," she quips, relishing in the way she makes you grin.

"true." she watches the applicator glide across your plump lips and then watches you shove it back in the tube. "did i ever tell you you were my favorite?"

"what?"

"in the seven. you were always my favorite. i never paid too much attention to you guys but i was always watching when you were on the tv," you say. "i don't know, maybe it was the armor or something. or maybe the way you always stood like that with your hands on your hips. i don't know. you always did it for me though."

were you saying what she thought you were saying?

"wait," she pauses, turning her body toward you and resting her hip against the counter. "so you had a crush on me?"

"mmm...something like that," you say with a shrug, though the troublesome smile on your face answers her question.

"wow." she crosses her arms over her chest and smirks at you. "does homelander know about this?"

"does he need to know about this?" you ask, turning to face her.

"guess not." there's a beat of silence. "how long ago was this? that you were pining over me," she asks as smugly as ever.

"so i don't think there was any pining involved, actually, but i remember the news would always play at the hospital and...well, yeah, there you were, always distracting me from my work."

"and now here you are," she says, gesturing to your figure while her eyes not so subtly checked you out. "distracting me from my work now."

"oh, am i?" you say, feigning innocence as you take a step closer to her. she was left to wonder, was this your plan all along?

"yeah. now i'm just thinking about you staring up at the screen," she says, entertaining you. her fingers graze your chin. "drooling all over your scrubs. fuck, you'd look so cute in scrubs." you bite your lip, staring up at her with those devilish eyes.

"if only you were there that day instead of him. things would be so different."

"do you wish things were different?" she asks, dropping her hand from your face.

"sometimes," you admit. "little, naive me couldn't see him for what he truly was. but i think i can see you now," you say, your finger poking the skin of her chest as you move impossibly closer.

"yeah?" she mumbles, her eyes obviously flickering between your eyes and your lips as she leans in toward you.

she can't believe she's really doing this. she knows it's a stupid move. homelander's literally downstairs. but you're magnetic.

you abruptly grab her by the back of the neck with both hands and press her lips onto yours. her lips move hungrily against yours, sucking and biting your bottom lip so hard that you're moaning into her mouth. she attaches herself to you, her strong hands grabbing at the back of your dress and pulling your body into her cold armor.

in a second, she's lifting you up and onto the counter. she knows it won't be long before homelander's looking for you, so she needs to make the most out of your fleeting time together. you're well aware of this as you hike your dress up your thighs to save her a few seconds.

she kisses you so hard and feverishly that you're dazed and pulling her further into you by the back of her head. you barely register her hands sliding your now slick panties down your legs.

she pulls away for a moment and stuffs your panties into the breastplate of her suit. it's annoying how put together she looks, meanwhile you're out of breath with your legs spread embarrassingly wide for her.

she gives you a look, as if to verify that you still want this. your slight nod cues her to duck down and face your bare pussy. instantly, she's eating you out like a woman starved. she rapidly tongues your clit, only stopping every once in a while to suck on it harshly. your quiet whimpers are music to her ears, only motivating her to throw your legs over her shoulders and bury her face deeper into your cunt. but then she starts to push a finger into your wet hole.

fuck, you're tight, she thinks. his dick really must be as small as she remembered.

your noises grow louder, prompting her to lift her face from your pussy and shush you like a child. with homelander's super hearing, she can't take any chances, especially when his ears are specifically trained to listen for your honey-sweet voice. you accordingly lift your hand from where it was gripping the edge of the counter and firmly clasp it over your lips, muffling your sounds. just to be safe, you bite down hard on your bottom lip as you lean your head back against the mirror.

maeve leaves a few kisses on your inner thigh as you get used to the intrusion of her long fingers before her lips enclose your clit once more. soon your thighs are spasming around her head and you're crying into your hand as you cum with two of her fingers pumping inside of you and her tongue running circles on your clit.

she should stop your quickie there. she should let you run back to the party and into homelander's arms. but if this was the last time she was gonna fuck you, she was going to make the most of it.

"we got time for another, right?" she asks, though it isn't a question as she adds another finger to your throbbing hole and you release a choked up whine.

maeve really did think that would be the last of it. this was a dangerous game after all, why would you run the risk of playing it twice?

but suddenly you're prancing around the tower more often, whether it's to hand deliver homelander his lunch or attend a fitting for your next red carpet appearance. whatever the cause is, you always bump into maeve, and before you know it, she's guiding you by the waist into to her room to fuck you better than your husband ever could.

"he can't make you cum, can he?" she whispers into your ear, fucking you dumb in missionary. all you can do is shake your head with your eyes squeezed shut, her panties stuffed in your mouth as a gag. "yeah, that's why you keep running back to me, begging me to make you feel good. he can't fuck you like i can."

it carries on like that for a while, you sneaking in and out of maeve's room a few times a week. homelander's oblivious at first, mainly because he ignores your existence most days. but you make a deadly mistake when he rolls over one night, groping your tits in an effort to coerce you into fucking him, and you immediately push him off of you without thinking. that really shocks him, so much so that he just lies there motionless, staring at the ceiling as you drift off.

you never deny him of sex. even when you're not in the mood, you usually just let him use your body or at least rub one out for him. so he really knows something's up when you push him away not just once, but multiple nights, claiming that you're "too tired."

"too tired?" he asks one night, outraged. "you don't fucking do anything! i'm out there saving lives so you can buy all your designer clothes and shoes and jewelry and you can't even fucking thank me by taking my dick down your throat? i fucking made you!" you simply roll your eyes and reach under the covers to grab his cock through his sweatpants. your annoyance makes you grip him hard, just how he likes it.

one odd time, after maeve's just finished fucking the life out of you, you open the door to leave her room, your hair still a little disheveled and your panties missing, only to see homelander leaning against the wall, waiting patiently for you.

"well, she really did a number on you, didn't she?" he asks with an amused smile. you're stood in the doorway frozen and speechless. he looks over your shoulder and makes eye contact with a tense maeve who's standing a few paces behind you.

deep down, you knew you'd get caught eventually. that didn't mean you were prepared for it. "john," you say in an overly soothing tone, reaching out for him as if you're about to start talking him down from one of his tantrums. would this be his breaking point?

"that's why you won't let me touch you, huh? getting fucked too good by queen maeve over here," he says, that terrifying smile never leaving his face.

"i mean, maeve," he says, slow clapping while making direct eye contact with her. he knows she's pissed from the way her jaw locks and her teeth grind together. "just wow. i didn't know she could cum that many times in a row without passing out. you know, you're going to have to teach me that little trick you do with your tongue," he says, pointing at her as if she's just said something witty. "it just drives her crazy. i mean, i could hear her all the way from the first floor. maybe we can...practice on her together next time?" he says as if you're not standing right in front of him. he doesn't miss the way maeve's upper lip twitches in disgust. "what? i can't let my two favorite girls have fun without me," he says, suddenly looking back down at you and petting your cheek with his hand.

maeve wants to say something, anything to put him in his place, but she can't find the words. you're his wife after all, not hers. she doesn't lay any claim to you. but, for some reason, she feels like she should. especially when you belong to someone so disgusting and vile.

things get a little weird once homelander knows. you can tell it irks maeve. the thought of him touching you or even watching her touch you makes her skin crawl. she tries to stay away from you for a little while, but it doesn't last long. whenever she sees you around the tower, she can't help but remember how pretty you looked spread out on her bed, showing off your glistening pussy.

plus it's a bit of a power trip, knowing that she held this one little thing over homelander's head, that little thing being you. so at some point, her desire for you trumps all else.

you're on your knees on the floor, your chin resting on the edge of the bed as you push your face further into maeve's cunt. you can only moan into her, letting your tears mix with her juices as you're being overstimulated by the vibrator that's buried deep inside your pussy. "god, you're useless," she says, grabbing the back of your head and grinding herself on your face. she moans as your nose rubs against her clit and your cries cause vibrations to course through her.

"just want you to come all over my face," you whine, maeve looking down to see your lips and chin coated in her slick. she cums almost immediately, deliciously arching into you with a deep groan.

the mixture of yours and maeve's noises makes homelander cum in his own room with his dick in his hand, so horny from watching and hearing the two of you go at for so long through the walls.

he only settles for watching because you and maeve refuse to let him in on the fun. and he would try to force himself in between you two, but he knows maeve would hit him so hard she'd knock him into next week. so he's content on just observing for now.

that is until he notices something. once the two of you have finished, you're no longer leaving her room, with your heels in your hands, to return to his room. instead, you're lying on your side, your hand dancing up and down maeve's bare arm, with your body tangled in her silky bed sheets. you whisper to each other, noses practically touching, about nothing important in particular.

homelander watches you smile at something she's said and he recognizes it. it's one reminiscent of the smile you had when he held you in his arms for the very first time, landing you safely on the ground so far from the hospital that you couldn't think about the smoke that swallowed the sky and the wreckage littered with bodies. he remembers how in love with you he felt in that moment, the first moment he truly looked at you and knew he must have you. your smile is aged and a little sad now, but he can't imagine that it doesn't reflect the same love and adoration it did all those years ago. and he can't imagine that maeve feels any different than he did at the time.

he sits stoically on the edge of his bed after pulling his sweatpants back up, clenching his fists. he can't let you fall for each other. he may have let maeve have your body, but you are still completely his. and now he must prove it.

this is so juicy i might have to write a part 2...

#queen maeve #queen maeve x reader #the boys #queen maeve smut #queen maeve x fem!reader #wlw #queen maeve x you #the boys x reader #the boys x you #the boys smut #homelander #homelander x reader

284 notes · View notes