#same if it goes completely silent
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Omg it would be way easier if my bff just ignored me and changed the subject but instead I have to wait like a week for him to just say “that sucks wtf” to my rant 🤦
#AUUUGGHHHH like we’re always in a conversation and he will be ranting and then it’s my turn to rant.LMAOO and then he just goes completely#silent.. EVERY TIME I THINK ITLL BE DIFFERENT TOO 😭 we’ll#ok to be fair he’s more thorough when he does respond like he’s not dismissive. but like. why does it have to take so long. T_T#and then I just end up not telling him anything about my life so he has no idea what I’m doing what’s going on lol#then I get comfortable enough to tell him stuff and the same thing happens.. AUUUGHHHH BUDDY#this sucks so bad. it’s been like this for over a year too but especially since december#I guess it’s fine I’ll find more friends but I’ve known him since I was 11 so I’m allowed to be sad..ok..#it kind of makes me feel like even more of a loser sometimes 💀 he’s very normal now. we have the same roots but he’s like.. well adjusted.#idk. so it kinda makes me insecure too which is sooooo stupid 🤦
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a little vent
#at this point i couldnt care less abt the 3 season annoucement for good omens#i still love this show its just i dont want to support it anymore#knowing neil is a zionist and micheal as well#same goes for that colleen duran who made the graphic novel. rip to people who cant get their money back from that kickstarter#and also i know that david tennant doesnt have social media but he has shown inthe past hes able to show support publicly#for example for trans people#and now hes silent#hes like. one of the most popular actors of all time. and hes silent?? im sorry why is it that a complete#no name like me. speaks out more against israel and the genocide theyre doing in Palestine. and somebody with such a big platform#(as in popularity) cant even say a single word???#even celebrities that think posting something on their story is enough: i despise them so much. you could be doing so much more. u have the#money. the fucking connections. and you think an instagram story is enough for you??#(not to mention the fact that georgia tennant liked some zionist bullshit..... and theyre married. im not saying he has the same views but#cmon. its very probable)
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Traitors Among Us
SIMON 'GHOST' RILEY x Fem!Reader Task Force 141 x Fem!Reader (Platonic)
PART 2
Part Three: The Guilty Plea
Part Four: The Verdict Due
Summary: You're a rat, a traitor. At least that's what Task Force 141 believes due to the evidence and claims scattered against you. It doesn't matter what you say, everyone's against you, ready to end you for it...until the truth comes out.
Warning(s): Torture, Heavy Angst, etc.
If you liked this would you Buy my a Coffee?
---
Drip.
Drip..
Drip...
Your shoulders seize up involuntarily as freezing droplets continue to hit your skin, eyes squeezed shut to try to ignore the sound that had been going on for who knows how long.
Another drop of water hits your spine from the faucet placed above you, it's cold as it runs down your bare skin. It feels like ice. Hitting the same spot over and over and over...
Drip...
Not even able to take a deep breath, you release a strained cry, it can hardly leave you, not that you hadn't cried enough already. You could feel the dried blood, tears and snot still on your face and a testament to your torment. You haven't been able to get the metallic taste of your blood of of your mouth since you got in here.
You breathe slowly, trying to relieve the pain in your chest. Body positioned downwards, chest pressed down to your knees, a leather buckle holds you down and over a metal stool. Wrists torn open by old shackles and stretched upwards to connect to the steel pipe in the middle of the room.
The stress position had been Johnny's idea, putting you in it to begin with. The bastard...
Kyle had been in and out to collaborate with Price on the interrogation, he didn't have the heart to do you any harm like his Captain. But, that didn't stop him from stomaching your screams as he turned the handle up, piercing cold crashing down atop you, it beats down on your back, by the time it's done your shaking, and your skin a bruising purple hue. It goes on like that for hours, even as you beg. He reads you the files again.
Price would then take the baton from the corner of the room, the side of your face already swollen from the last strike, you were seeing red out of your left eye and soon you wouldn't be able to see out of it if the swelling continued.
"Please..." you shivered, miserably.
"Over in a jiff, love, but i need somethin' from you, you know that." Was his reply, he tapped the baton against the metal below you, the reverb makes you jump each time, leaving you to stare at it as you watched his boots walk around you.
"Cap'n, It's not...It's not--me..." you tried, breathless. "I'd never.."
The steel baton came down on your shoulder, first. There was an immediate response from your constricted muscles, limbs that had all tensed up at once despite their numbness. Pulling at the shackles that kept you in place, the hit shocks you, nearly silencing you completely, it hurts, then it burns. Mouth open in a silent scream, you squeeze your eyes shut in an effort to block out the pain that crawled through your shoulder. "It's not me!"
You've been suffering from hypothermia for a few days since then. Your shoulder crushed right out of place or just plain broken, you weren't sure. It's not like you could feel much of your arms in this position.
It hurt. Not just the painful strain that this position was currently putting on your muscles, but everything else...
Of course, you've handled torture alike this before. Captured and tortured by enemies, ransomed for pay and fought tooth and nail to live, then found your way from that hell...only for the men who you'd kill for, to do the same thing to you with no remorse.
In the quiet of the empty room, you sobbed in agony. Squeezing your fists, but you couldn't even feel them, as far as you knew your fingers could only twitch in response to your demand.
You weren't sure what you were doing here.
Well, you knew. There was a mole, all evidence pointing to you, whatever it was had completely stunted their mission earlier in the week, left them hiding in a safe house for days until they were picked up by evac. Apparently, you'd leaked mission details to some hostiles over seas, you weren't sure which ones, they were hoping you could tell them. You had absolutely nothing, lost.
Of course, they didn't believe you. Although you expected to have at least a sliver of trust, someone to speak up against these claims and believe you...
It must've been too much to ask.
It came out of nowhere, at first you had been in bed with Simon, your fucking Fiancé, then that meeting with Price, then just...they'd cornered you in that room. Knocked you out without even an explanation, woke you up strapped down, confused, stripped of your uniform and feral as you demanded answers. Nobody listened to you.
That first night you thought you were gonna die. The second night you thought you had. The third night you were just convinced this was your hell.
You were soaked to the bone, and unable to stop shivering. The only sound you could hear was your own chattering teeth in this never-ending void of darkness.
It was so fucking dark in here, your eyes darting around to every corner, hoping for even a measly crack of light that your eyes could adjust to. Every sound, scratch, scrape or click made you jump, you couldn't see shit in here, so just about everything made you hyper aware. You couldn't help your anxiety as the sound of the faucet, the constant drops against your spine, the jingle of your shackles and the whimpers that echoed against the walls as you struggled to comfortably breathe. Maybe it was the thought of a mouse crawling up the stool and along your skin, or someone in here just staring at you in the corner, or the door finally opening for Price to start slicing into you demanding answers you didn't have.
You were on the cusp of losing your mind. If you hadn't already.
But it's been a few hours since then...
Maybe even a few days...
It could even have been a week.
You weren't too sure.
Simon had been the last one in here. He'd pulled the strap loose around your neck, hauling you up to an upright position by your jaw, eliciting a whimper from your lips. Able to breathe a bit easier, your lungs finally decompressing and you gulp down air greedily, "Simon..." this had been the first time you'd seen him since. He wears his balaclava, he is Ghost, not your Simon Riley.
As your bloodshot, swollen eyes raise to look into his cold ones, so unfeeling. You hadn't even realized you were so hopeful for his trust in you until then, looking at you like you were absolutely nothing to him, the same look he always had before pulling the trigger. "Simon, please, stop this..." your words slurred by your shivering, exhausted. "You know me...please."
Your tears slide over the leather of his gloved hands, while he holds tight to your face and cuts your pleads short with a painful squeeze. "Shut up," he says. His eyes are blank, but his voice is low and seething. "Shut the fuck up!" Simon harshly grits out to you, jostling you harshly. You squeeze your eyes shut, weeping miserably, throat closing up to your agony.
He had to know that you would've never done this to him. He should've known that. Given you the benefit of the doubt at least. You'd have never done this to him...
"I'm sorr-" you try, he squeezes harder to silence you swiftly, and snatches a tiny bowl off the tray he'd brought in. Raising your jaw a bit higher, he pours down a chunky broth into your mouth, letting it all just fall down to your throat. It's disgusting. He doesn't ease up for even a second as you toss and turn your head to breathe.
"Don't say a fucking word," he seethes, his hand enveloping your neck and keeping your head raised upward. "As if I should believe you..."
He then takes the next cup to do the same, your eyes bloodshot wide and you jerk away from him as you choke, unable to stomach anything, but he doesn't let you. This time you inhale accidentally, blocking your airway, eyes watering as you writhe for oxygen, your shackles clang violently as you attempt to retaliate, the first fight you've put up in days. His grip doesn't let up, even as you struggle and start to vomit up whatever he decided to shove down your throat.
When he finally lets go, you curve over and heave up whatever's left in your mouth, hyperventilating as you empty your guts on the floor. Hacking up whatever you can, it hurts, your throat burning from the sobs that leave you in between coughs. "If you love me, if you--ever had--" you spat at him. You'd given him everything, every part of yourself, nearly given him your life in the battlefield, and yet...it wasn't enough. "You would fucking believe me!" your voice cracks with the effort it takes to scream at him, to curse him to hell.
"My trust? That's what you want," Hollow eyes stare back at you, his attention flickering around to the uncomfortable shift of your shoulders in those cuffs. Your swollen left eye that had been hit so hard, the white of it had filled with blood. The black and blue littering your sides and your spine, the loss of color in your skin from the stress position and the cold that had you uncontrollably shivering. "You've had it before. You must've sold that to them too."
Your head drops to the stool again, releasing a heavy breath. "It wasn't worth much, if it was so easy to lose..."
Usually it's not very easy to set Simon off, you've known him always to be quite mellow, besides the barely concealed rage he had settled in his chest since you've known him. But, today, you were an exception.
Fisting a hand in your hair, Simon yanks at it, pulling you upwards for your to face him. His other hand coming up to wrap around your throat before your tortured scream can even manifest. In that moment, it feels as if he'd snapped your spine in half, having not used the muscles to stretch that area in over a week. Your shackled wrists shifting in the cruel position.
His eyes are wild and rageful, the balaclava that covers him twists just the same, his grip very telling to his violence as he squeezes down any chance at air or even a sentence. "Easy to lose..." he repeats, spitting in your face as he strangles you. "Easy t'lose your life! If you don't tell me the fucking truth," he pulls out the knife you'd seen him slit so many throats with before, you hear the familiar sound of it first then its cold steel pressing into the side of your ribs. "I'm gonna carve out your heart, and I'll take it real slow, let you feel every little thing I do to you in here," he shakes you harshly as a startled cry escapes you, your tears are burning hot against your cheeks. "You don't get to cry. Or whine. Or beg!"
"Stop--" you try to squirm away from him, to get as far away as possible, from this place, from this moment.
"Just tell me the truth," Simon's face twisted in agony, for just a second, his thumb drags along your jaw, meaningfully. "You'd be doing us both a favor..."
As his vast hand finally loosed around your neck just enough to hold you up, awaiting the bitter truth. Simon's knife catches on the protrusion of your ribs, nicking the skin, drawing blood on purpose. You stare up at the ceiling, the flickering old lights, the dripping faucet that's tormented your already fragile state for weeks now. "The truth..." you spoke, hoarsely. "You've all shown me...it doesn't matter to you. If it ever... Believe what you want--" you close your eyes, you're exhausted. Sleep had evaded you for days. "You and your truth and this team, you can all go to hell."
And finally he lets you go, letting your fall forwards, unable to find the relief of a cold floor but back to the strenuous position you'd been placed in. "AH!" nearly popping your shoulders out of place, or maybe they had, you bite down on your tongue, shaking in silence.
If you could see Simon's face, you could've relished in the uncertainty flickering in his eyes, the sudden doubt that led his knife back in its holder and his nails to bite into the flesh of his palms. He opens his mouth to say something, but nothing leaves him, instead he stands there.
You can't say a thing to him now, everything that's happened was just a little reminder that whatever you said, whatever you did, it didn't matter. Their minds had already been made. You really would die here.
Simon stands there a little longer, he doesn't say anything, you're not sure if he stays there to watch your suffering a little longer or to wait to say another heart-wrenching thing. Maybe he's just there to wait for you to die. But, he just watches as you wretch and cry in a ball atop that stool.
He leaves not long after, he didn't bother to strap you down this time. He left the old light on, but it must've been older than you thought.
The single bulb fizzled out completely hours ago. Not unless one of them decided to cut the silence and turn on the light to start another 'questioning', so suddenly being able to see more than darkness wasn't anything to be excited about.
They'd leave you in the dark until then, to await the next moment any of them would grace you with their presence.
To be honest, you'd imagined you'd be stronger than this. But, there was nothing to hold onto, so what did strength matter?
It was too late anyway.
They'd broken you days ago.
---
The truth had come out, two days later.
"Oh god..."
"Oh my fucking God," Simon rushed down the corridor, Price tailing right behind him. "Oh my God!" his normal monotone voice now a mess of fear and panic, breathing harsher, on the cusp of hyperventilating with every stride as he ran faster than he ever had in his life.
Finally getting to the interrogation wing of the department, he bangs his fist on the plexiglass of those silently monitoring the rooms, "Open the fucking door!" he's buzzed in before he can pull on the handle another time.
Rushing down the hall to the now green lit room, lights flickering to life with every step closer down the hall of empty rooms. He nearly rips the door off its hinges as he bursts inside, the lights of the your tiny prison don't come to life as they should. Light spilling into the cell, to hit your limp figure first.
He doesn't deserve to say your name. "(Y/n)," Simon rushes over, to his knees instantly. A puddle of vomit, water and spoiled broth soaks through his uniform.
"I'm sorry! I'm sorry," he sobs out his mistakes, unhooking your chains and cutting through your buckles as fast as he could. "Oh my god, I'm sorry. I'm so sorry!" he catches his fiancé as you collapse, turning over and off the stool, your legs having lost all sense of feeling. You fall into his arms, catching you carefully. "Price!" he cries out, desperately.
"They're on the way!" Your captain assures, he sees the medical team rushing down the hallway, a stretcher, a box of medical supplies. Christ.
You're freezing to the touch, your skin a hue of blue, not to mention the bruises, the cuts and the swollen areas throughout your face and spine. You suddenly inhale, sharply, coughing terribly. You're sick, breathing shakily, "Simon...?" you breathe, confused. You can't see. Your eyes swollen shut from your torture at their hands.
"It's me, it's me," Simon assured, although he knew it probably brought you no comfort. He snatches the blanket offered up by Price, your captain a mess of himself, holding himself together at the doorway, nails biting into the steel.
As Simon wraps you in the first glimpse of warmth you've had in days, you ease up a bit, fingers twitching upwards to pull the threads closer around yourself. "It wasn't..." you shiver, Simon listens intently as he rises with you in his arms, running off to meet the medical team halfway. "It wasn't me..." you gasp out. "It wasn't..."
Simon can't say a thing as he hears your tormented voice stutter in fear of him, lips pressed tight together, heart sinking and as the nurses take your body, he collapses to his knees.
Part 2
#simon ghost riley#simon riley x reader#ghost x reader#simon ghost riley x reader#simon ghost x reader#cod x reader#ghost x yn#call of duty x reader#cod angst#simon riley angst#ghost angst#simon riley angst x reader
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Different
Azriel x Fem!Reader
Word Count: 1.7k
Warnings: none
Summary: Ever since Feyre arrived at Velaris, they have only ever known Azriel a stoic and mostly serious. But once his wife comes home, she sees a different side to him.
A Court of Thorns and Roses Masterlist
•••
Feyre watched as Azriel stood by the window. His shadows moved over his shoulders and around his ear as if whispering something to him. The expression on Azriel’s face was his same neutral one that only ever seemed to change the smallest amount. And only ever in the presence of the Inner Circle and even then there would only be a small hint of a smile.
It was late at night and everyone was enjoying a relaxing night with a few bottles of Rhys’s expensive alcohol. So far, Azriel hadn’t moved from his place at the window, his back was rigid as if he was expecting something, though that was the only indicator that he was. His face was his usual stoicism, giving nothing away.
“Az, are you ever going to get away from that window anytime soon?” Cassian complained.
Azriel turned his attention to Cassian and scowled. “I’m busy.”
“Not busy enough to spend time with the people you love,” Cassian teased.
“Az, sit down, you won’t miss anything,” Rhys chimed in.
With a final look through the window, Azriel walked over to the rest of the Inner Circle and sat in the armchair. His back was tense and he was not fully relaxed. Ever since Feyre had known him he had always been somewhat alert to everything.
While everyone continues with the card game, Feyre couldn’t help but pay more attention to Azriel than to the game. Like Feyre, Azriel didn’t seem to be paying any attention to the game either. Instead he stared at the table in front of him completely lost in thought.
Elain, who was sitting on the floor beside Mor, looked up to Azriel. “It’s your turn,” she said.
“Oh,” Azriel said before picking a card out of his hand and placing it on top of the pile.
“That isn’t a card you can even put on top,” Cassian complained.
Azriel rolled his eyes. “Does it matter? You change the rules when you’re losing anyway.”
“I do not!” Cassian exclaimed. “I take this game seriously.”
“Until you are losing,” Nesta mumbled under her breath.
Cassian began to argue back, clearly becoming outnumbered in his argument. Feyre only watched on with amusement.
However everything was quickly interrupted by a new voice, one Feyre had never heated before, cut through the argument.
“I leave you all alone for a few years and everything goes to shit?”
Everything goes silent as everyone stares at the beautiful female who had just entered the room. Before Feyre could even process everything, Azriel threw his cards back down on the table and rushed up to the female.
The female giggled in delight as Azriel’s arms wrapped around her and swung her around. Feyre looked at her two sisters, each of them held the same expression she did. Confusion.
What shocked Feyre the most about the situation was the bright and wide smile stretching across Azriel’s face. She had only noticed now that he had dimples.
“I missed you so much,” Azriel mumbled.
“It has only been a few months for you,” the female replied.
“That is too long for me. I always wish for you to be next to me,” Azriel replied and pressed his lips against the females. His arms circled her waist, making sure there wasn’t a single gap between their bodies. The female threaded her fingers through his hair, causing Azriel to sigh in delight. Feyre couldn’t help but feel surprised by this display of affection from Azriel.
Feyre leaned back against Rhys. “Who is that?”
“Azriel’s mate and wife,” Rhys answered.
“What?” Feyre exclaimed. “None of you have ever mentioned her before.”
“That was Azriel’s decision,” Rhys replied, filling up his glass. “You see, Y/N works as a researcher all over the continent for me so she is rarely ever here so none of us can protect her. Azriel has made a lot of enemies over the years and if he were tied to her, she could be put in even more danger.”
“When was the last time they saw each other?” Elain interjected.
“For Azriel a few months ago,” Rhys answered. “Those two weeks just before Solstice when Azriel wasn’t here, he was on the continent with her.”
Feyre watched as Azriel buried his head into Y/N’s neck, holding her against him tightly. Feyre smiled at the sight.
“It has been at least two years since the rest of us have last seen Y/N,” Cassian chimed in. “It would be nice of her to greet the rest of us.”
Y/N pulled away from Azriel to smile at everyone else. “Give me a break, Cass. If you were to go without a hug from your mate in a few months, you wouldn't be jumping to greet everyone else first.”
“She knows about us?” Nesta asked.
Cassian nodded. “Whenever Azriel meets up with her, she always asks about you all. Apparently she has been excited to meet you all.”
Feyre watched as Azriel and Y/N walked over to join the group. Azriel’s gaze never left Y/N for a single second. Feyre’s gaze shifted down to their joined hands. She hid her smile behind her glass.
Y/N quickly greeted Rhys, Cassian and Mor with a hug and she gave a small nod to Amren.
Azriel sat down on the armchair first and as Y/N was about to sit in the arm of it, Azriel pulled her down so she sat in his lap instead. His arms locked around her waist as his chin rested on her shoulder. Feyre was sure she had never seen him look so happy before, so at ease. The smile on his face was one Feyre had never seen.
“It is great to finally meet you three,” Y/N said, her gaze flicking between Feyre, Nesta and Elain. “This one here,” she said, reaching to cup Azriel’s cheek, “has told me a lot about you.”
“It is great to meet you,” Feyre said with a smile.
“So now that introductions have finished,” Cassian begins, “can we get back to the game now? I was about to win.”
“Is that because you changed the rules halfway through the game?” Y/N teased.
Cassian rolled his eyes. “You know what, Y/N. I don’t think I missed you at all.”
Y/N chuckled. “We both know that’s a lie.”
Azriel laughed along with Y/N and placed a soft kiss to her shoulder. He looked completely different to the stoic and serious shadowsinger Feyre was used to. With Y/N, Azriel seemed like a completely different person. The tension had vanished from his body and his shadows, which were once sliding over his shoulders, were now caressing Y/N legs and arms. One of his hands caressed her thigh while the other threaded with hers. Feyre could see the goosebumps appear on Y/N’s skin wherever he caressed.
Azriel whispered something into Y/N’s ear which caused her to turn to him, smiling wide, her lips hovering just above his. The glimmer in Azriel’s eyes was prominent as he looked at her. It was as if she hung the stars. There was so much love and tenderness in his eyes that it could only be described as something out of a romance novel. She had never seen him look so at ease before. It was if everything else had melted away and the only thing left was Y/N.
Feyre couldn’t help but feel giddy at the sight.
“How long have they been mates for?” Feyre asked Rhys.
“Nearly three hundred years,” Rhys replied, wrapping an arm around Feyre. “They have been married for longer, the bond snapped nearly fifty years after they were married.”
“They seem happy,” Feyre said, her eyes not shifting from where Azriel and Y/N sat.
Rhys smiled at his two friends, friends he considered family. “They are. Azriel is always his happiest when Y/N is around. He always has been ever since they met.”
“Why does she go away for long periods of time?” Feyre questioned. “It feels like torture when I’m away from you for too long. I cannot imagine being mates to someone for three hundred years and only being able to see them every few months.”
“That is the way it has been through their whole relationship,” Rhys explains. “They both knew what each other did for a job and neither of them wanted the other to give it up.”
“How long is she back for this time?” Feyre asked.
“I hadn’t asked,” Rhys said. “But I have a small feeling she will be here for a while this time.”
Feyre frowned. “How so?”
“Because if I know anything about Y/N, it is that she would never decline a glass of my finest wine and so far she has declined every glass Mor has offered her,” Rhys observed.
Feyre looked at Rhys excitedly. “Does that mean—?”
Rhys smiled. “They haven’t said anything so I assume that they wish to keep the news between them for a little while longer.”
Feyre smiled over at Y/N and Azriel. She caught Y/N’s eye. The beautiful female only sent a wink Feyre’s way, a clear indication that she had overheard her and Rhys’s conversation.
“Az, it’s your turn,” Nesta said.
Azriel throws all of his cards onto the table. “I think I am done for the night.”
Cassian groaned . “Really?”
“Really,” Azriel said. “I want to spend time with my gorgeous mate and wife.”
Cassian chuckled. “That is only an excuse because you are losing,” the general teased.
Azriel rolled his eyes and swooped Y/N up in his arms. Her arms locked around his neck. “If you need us— actually don’t even try to contact us at all.”
Y/N threw her head back and laughed as Azriel carried her out of the room. Feyre could hear them laughing loudly even when the door was firmly closed behind them. Feyre leaned into Rhys and linked her fingers with his.
“I am happy for them,” Feyre said, her eyes staring at the door where Azriel and Y/N had left.
Rhys kissed the top of Feyre’s head. “Me too.”
#acotar x reader#a court of thorns and roses#acotar#azriel x reader#azriel acotar#azriel#azriel shadowsinger#azriel fluff
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Older Boyfriend Simon Riley
Thanks to the notes on my last post, I will be posting this blurb here. It's just for shits and giggles.
Older Boyfriend!Simon Riley who has been the best boyfriend you have ever had.
Refuses to let you call a handyman. Leaky sink? He had it fixed before you even knew there was a problem. Squeaky desk chair? Suddenly completely silent.
Gets really competitive with Mario Kart and refuses to play again after losing a couple of rounds. Gets really into Minecraft but doesn’t let you help build things because “You’re doing it wrong” even though you’re the one who taught him how to play
Does not understand girl math.
-- “The fuck you mean it’s not real money
-- “If I use cash, it’s free because it doesn’t come out of my account. Therefore it’s not real money.”
-- “I’m pretty sure that’s not how it works.”
-- Now drops cash in your purse so that you have “fake” money to use.
Hates girl dinner only because he knows that a bowl of popcorn or a couple crackers and cheese is not a full meal.
A year of his life drops off every time he hears you saying “I’m doing it for the plot.”
Refuses to download tiktok but will watch them on your phone with you for hours at a time
Went on a very long lecture about the Roman Empire and how it came to be (talk specifically about the military aspect) once you mentioned something was your Roman empire. Didn’t even notice you had fallen asleep halfway through the lecture. Still doesn’t know what you mean when you say something is your Roman Empire.
Has absolutely no idea what you mean when you say “same.”
-- You had to explain that it was just something you said when you found anything relatable
-- “What the bloody hell could be relatable about a plastic bag blowing across the road.”
Has attempted to use the word slay in a sentence and it only ended with you in the longest laughing fit known to man.
Listens to you explain celebrity beef and wonders why you talk about them like you know them personally and how you know all this information.
Vine references, goes right over his head.
-- One time quoted “Road work ahead, uh yeah I sure hope it does” after you had done it so many times, you nearly choked to death on air that day.
Emojis are his worst enemy. Never gets the message when you try to hint at something using emojis.
Learns very early on that anytime you two go out for errands, you require a sweet treat.
-- Uses going out to get a sweet treat as an excuse to take you out on dates
-- Also makes sure to buy you a sweet treat anytime you complete a task you didn’t want to do.
#simon ghost riley#simon riley#ghost simon riley#simon riley x reader#simon riley hcs#ghost cod#ghost x reader#ghost hcs#call of duty hcs#call of duty#ghost call of duty
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⠀ 𝝑𝑒 ⠀⠀ 𝐒𝐘𝐍𝐎𝐏𝐒𝐈𝐒. all sukuna needs is someone to take care of his needs after a stressful day—that someone being you, his favorite concubine.
tags. true form!sukuna x concubine! female reader. smut, angst towards the end. objectification kinda, size kínk, p in v -> unprotected, choking (nearly goes wrong), breeding kink, standing doggy, sukuna has two cawks, reader gets called ‘(little) slut, doll’. uhh sukuna has cannibal-ish desires.. idk how to explain it.
“you,” sukuna barges into the dining hall, not batting an eye to all the other women sitting around. his sharp gaze immediately finds yours in-between the crowd. that’s when you realise that he’s clearly pissed off at someone or something.
everyone freezes and stops eating—scurrying to politely greet and bow at the king of curses. you do the same after a second of processing his unexpected presence.
sukuna barks a command before you can part your lips to ask a question, “into my chambers. now.”
the servants and concubines all look on with wide eyes. they know what that means. some are blushing from embarrassment at sukuna’s bold choice of words—others are silently seething with envy because you’re the centre of his attention again.
all eyes are on you as you get up to follow sukuna. you’re nervous yet also somewhat excited. you were unable to walk straight for a few days the last time sukuna looked and sounded that angry.
but, the embarrassment is certainly also present. especially because everyone knows what the mighty sorcerer and his concubine are going to be up to for the upcoming hours.
“strip,” sukuna firmly says the second you enter his room. you’re used to his distant, rushed behaviour at this point, so you comply. you undo all robes—leaving you completely bare in front of him.
sukuna’s canine teeth show as he grins at the welcoming sight. he steps towards you, his rough hands coming up to fondle your body. he squeezes and fondles your soft flesh with surprising care, “mhmm. this ‘s all i needed.”
it isn’t long before your small body is caged against the nearest wall. your breasts are squished by the cold concrete, your hands the only thing keeping your balance. your fingernails hurt because of you repeatedly scratching the wall.
“i know y’ can get louder than that,” sukuna hisses and sinks his sharp canines into your shoulder. he’s splitting you open, his thick cock dragging along your velvety walls with a purpose. the king of curses unapologetically draws a bit of blood from your flesh, “tsk—moan like the fuckin’ slut you are.”
and you do as told. your voice gets so loud to the point that it’s embarrassing, but you can’t care less. your insides are begging sukuna to continue—to not stop until they’ve turned into mush. until they’re painted white with loads and loads of thick and slippery cum.
“tha’s it, doll,” sukuna huffs as his tongue licks over the bite mark he left on your shoulder. his eyes flash a dangerous red at the sight. he’s doing all he can to suppress the urge to eat you up.
literally.
he’s got this aching carnal desire to devour you. to consume you like it’s his last meal on earth. sukuna can’t stand it, though he tries his best. you’re an interesting human; the reactions you elicit from him are strong. like no one has been able to do so before.
“need more, my lord,” you beg between interrupted moans. you’re drunk on pleasure, oblivious to the fact that sukuna is fighting off his inner demons. you’re obsessed with the way his hips roughly slam against your ass. your body is on fire, “more—more, fnghhh, more!”
all four of sukuna’s hands tighten around your hips and waist. he squeezes you until you feel his nails painfully dig into your skin. you’re making it so hard for him; acting this needy, begging him to ravage you and claim your cunt, mind and soul.
“lost y’r fuckin’ manners, hm?” sukuna grumbles and slaps your ass as punishment, “beg properly.” he spreads your asscheeks after that, squishing the plump fat in attempt to withstand his own sick thoughts.
you look delicious. your dripping pussy that’s wetting both his cocks looks delicious. your body that is much smaller compared to his looks powerless and. . . delicious.
“‘m sorry—please, pleaseee!” you mewl, eyes rolling back into your skull. you’ll never get tired of being pounded until you’re unable to think or talk properly. it’s even better with sukuna, his two cocks are enough to keep you stuffed and satisfied for nth amount of time.
your breath hitches as you feel your feet being lifted from the floor. your legs dangle in the air as sukuna readjusts his grasp on your body so he could support you up against the wall. the new angle he’s fucking you in only increases all the pleasure.
you’re not sure if you can even keep up with him at this point. you’re brainlessly allowing him to position your body however he sees fit.
“shittt, yeah,” sukuna nearly salivates at the sight of your small body accepting its fate. you’re either super easy to please, or he’s just good at what he’s doing. no matter which one it is—sukuna’s making sure that you’re not going to be able to walk after he’s done.
he plunges his upper cock in and out of your wet cunt. each thrust is different than the one before, the pace quickening before slowing down again. he’s clearly teasing you and that’s exactly what drives you crazy.
“my lord—mmh! so deep,” you hiccup, nearly crying because of how many times sukuna hits that sweet spot deep inside your leaking pussy. your brain has shut down and all you can focus on is his thick cock that’s making you moan uncontrollably.
sukuna curses under his breath. you’re so desperate and it makes him want to do unspeakable things. he wants to have you all to himself. he doesn’t know what that overbearing emotion is and it’s frustrating him to no end.
the king of curses only increases his pace after that. he attempts to decrease the flow of thought inside of his mind by pounding you harder. your entire body is trembling and jolting back and forth in place, every thrust of his is met with a loud moan of yours.
“quit whining ‘n just take it,” sukuna pants, not paying mind to your jumbled up sentences. there’s no need for words, his current and only goal is to make your cunt overflow with his cum. if he can’t claim you in an inhuman way, he’ll resort to mark your insides, so no man even thinks of speaking or touching what’s his.
you can feel the passion behind sukuna’s thrusts. you’re still not over the fact that he’s using you like a ragdoll to get himself off. but, it also feels insanely good at the same time. you nod and nod, wanting to satisfy each of sukuna’s desires.
“i’ll let ‘em know,” the king of curses groans once he feels you involuntarily squeeze his upper cock. his lower cock slides between your thighs, back and forth, getting its own stimulation. sukuna finishes his sentence with a guttural grunt, “i’ll let everyone know y’r mine ‘nd mine only.”
he’s serious about this. his hands squeeze your form and you moan at the act of ownership. by the increase of his harsh thrusts, you can tell that he’s close. close to dumping his hot load into your cunt and breed your womb full of him.
sukuna can’t get the image out of his head. you, fully bred, by no one else but him. how you’d walk around the estate with his cum pooling between your legs. the other concubines are going to seethe the second they smell his scent on you— something they can only dream of.
“take it — fucking take it,” sukuna gets more aggressive with the second. he yearns for a release, one that will destress him. though the closer he gets to his climax, the more those carnal desires threaten to take over.
you squeal as you feel one of sukuna’s hands wrap around your neck. he squeezes your throat until you’re gasping for air. you don’t know what’s suddenly got into him, but you’re too far gone to care.
you can hear him growling in your ear from behind—his hips not stopping even as you reach your own orgasm. you curl your fingers around sukuna’s wrist, trying to loosen his grip around your throat before you lose consciousness, “m-mmhhh, can’t breathe.”
your sobs echo throughout the chambers. your climax leaves you spasming in sukuna’s grasp, your cunt feels like it’s on fire as it continues being overstimulated.
sukuna’s too far gone as well. you can feel drops of his drool fall on your bare back. his red eyes are wide, looking down at you like you’re his meal for the day. figuratively, you are. though the king of curses has a desire that urges him to take it literally.
“r-ryo, please!”
it’s only then that sukuna snaps back to his usual self. hearing you call him by that nickname you created both calms him down and turns him on. he loosens the grip on your throat and instead presses you harshly against the wall with one final thrust.
he spills all his heavy balls have stored into your cunt. your pussy floods with his potent seed, the sticky fluid easily finding its way into your womb. you whimper at the warm feeling—sukuna always cums so much. literal buckets.
you can feel the same sticky feeling on your thighs, as well as on the wall after his lower cock spurts out ropes of cum too. you feel yourself being lowered to the floor and you lean against the hard surface to catch your breath.
you take a look over your shoulder and see how sukuna’s eyes are partially hidden behind his sweaty bangs. there’s a dark aura surrounding him, though it slowly disappears the more he calms down.
his hands are still holding your body in place, not ready to let go of you. his upper cock softens up inside of you and you’re unsure of what to do. the silence - except for the heavy breathing - makes you question if you did something wrong.
“something the matter, my lord?” you ask between faint gasps. sukuna doesn’t answer you and instead lets go of your body, pulling himself out of you right after.
if he keeps himself inside of you, he’ll lose it. he’ll do something he feels like he’ll eventually regret.
“get dressed,” sukuna commands harshly. he doesn’t even look at you anymore. he simply pulls the robes over his body again and covers himself. you’re confused, but you do as told either way.
you’re shaking as you fix your undergarments before pulling your kimono over your body again. you’ll fix your make up and disheveled hair later. first, you need to figure out why sukuna’s acting so cold.
sure - he’s always been like that, aftercare and affection was never really his forte - but it’s somehow worse today. once you’re done dressing up, you obediently stand in front of sukuna, looking up at him like you’re expecting another command.
this is usually the moment where you can just relax in his chambers until you fall asleep or until you’ve calmed down. though, today felt off. you’re uneasy by the tension in the air.
the oblivious look in your eyes nearly makes the king of curses pounce on you. you’re so oblivious to what’s going on in his mind. the images that flash through his mind—of you underneath him as he claims your flesh and bones.
your soul. your heart.
“get out,” sukuna hisses. he does not need to spend another second with you in his personal space. no good will come out of it anyway. he can smell himself on you and it’s triggering those same urges that he was fighting off just moments ago.
he longs to sink his teeth in every part of your flesh. to eat you whole like it’s his right.
he clenches his fists and moves to sit on the edge of his bed. to you, sukuna looks mad. perhaps a bit confused with how he’s feeling. he still doesn’t understand why he’s having such strong feelings towards you.
he yearns to claim ownership over you in more ways than one.
you gulp and know that sukuna is not to be messed with when he’s like this. even if you don’t realise why, you simply nod and bow at him before walking out of his chambers. not a word has to be spoken.
you close his doors behind you and yet can’t seem to move away. you’re unsure of what that last interaction between you two meant.
the look in sukuna’s eyes contained something so primal. no, feral.
you remember how he choked you until you were on the verge of passing out. how he held you like he wanted to possess your every being. how he squeezed your body between his and the wall, leaving you no space to breathe.
you run your fingers over the mark on your shoulder. you hiss; the bite mark stung. it didn’t during the moment because of the adrenaline, but now that the effects of the hormone have worn off, you realise just how deep it was. sukuna normally gives you light and small bites, but this one was different.
everything about that passionate session was unusual, overwhelming and… primal.
just what in the world was that?
#sttoru writes.#jjk smut#jjk x reader#sukuna smut#sukuna x reader#sukuna ryomen smut#jjk x you#jjk x y/n#sukuna x you#sukuna x y/n#jjk imagines
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thinking about mean stepbro!rafe catching his cute little stepsis humping away at her pillow late into the night when everyone’s asleep ⋆ටᆼට⋆
that night was ingrained in the back of rafe’s head as if some twisted fairy carved the image of you rutting helplessly into your pillow within the crevices of his brain
it was all by complete chance. the night’s breeze gushed through the older cameron’s window awakening him to the seasonable hot hours of darkness- he couldn’t even remember what caused him to leave bed; water? needing to use the bathroom?
all that clouded his twisted mind, was walking past your room; his sweet, pure minded step sisters room. the soft little pants and uh uh’s that left your mouth filled the silent air. he almost couldn’t believe it, it felt like some perverse wet dream that centred around your poor, naive self
his body moved before his mind, his hand gently creeping up against the door, softly pulling it open- cautious to making no noise to alert his presence. it was art; the sight of seeing you move vigorously against a spare pillow, your hips rocking back and forth as your back arched back, your hands travelling up to pull and squeeze at your clothed tits, your mouth agape as the sinful sounds of pleasure leave your mouth
but the true beauty of it all was when his eyes fell down to your bare pussy, all red and puffy from the constant stimulation. you were so so so wet, you poor thing must have been so achey, so desperate
he would be lying if he said he wasn’t tempted, there was nothing he wanted more than to barge in and pound that pretty pussy till you couldn’t even remember your own name - but he settled, hiding in the darkness, watching you work at your pillow late into the night. he found his hand travelling down beneath the band of his sweatpants, palming away at his hardon, small pants of pleasure escaping his mouth
you paid no notice to your surroundings completely oblivious to the shadow of the large figure behind your door until you stopped
fuck! had you seen him? has he been caught?
depsite the danger of being caught, rafe’s head peered further inside and god he nearly came at the sight.it was heavenly,the way you took of your corset like top, tits spilling out in an almost pornographic like manner. one of your small hand gliding up your stomach, eventually to come pull and twist at your cute little nipples while the other goes down to rub at your already sensitive pussy
the loud moan that left your mouth went straight to his throbbing cock, dying to be let free and make itself home in your tight cunt. he rushed to pull down his pants and boxers, freeing his large length as his hands fist around it, moving up and down at the same pace you rocked against the pillow
his mind couldn’t help but wander what if it was him underneath you instead of the pillow, the zip of his jeans catching against your sore clit just as the edges of the pillow did when you rocked forward and when you rocked back it was the friction against his bulge rather than the fluff of the pillow
he could hear that you were getting closer, your whines becoming higher as you rocked faster and faster, your hand rubbing roughly against your mound prompting him to move his fist faster up and down the length of his cock, leaking with pre cum
a soft series of curses left your mouth as you went into total bliss, hands gripping the side of your bedside table,mouth agape while a high pitched wine left your mouth and as if it was a cue for the tall blonde, he spilled out across the palm of his hand
he wondered if you ever heard the joined pants of the aftermath of both of your highs. he watched you collapse down into the warmth of your bed, the lengths of your hair stuck against your sweaty body as you breathe out, softly panting
god he wishes he could have stayed and watched your pretty pussy throb and clench around nothing but he knew he had pushed his luck already. the images of you and your little cunt plagued his mind as he fell asleep
⇉
the morning after was a blur for you; the early morning rays of sun kissing your skin, waking you up to the quiet twitter of the birds. it was early - way too early for anyone to be up, maybe ward but that seemed unlikely since he had no buisness to attend to roday
so when you went downstairs in nothing but a pair of panties and a bra covered by a thin dressing gown, the last person you expected to see was rafe cameron, the older boy resting his lower back against the counter, mindlessly scrolling on his phone
there was something magnetic about him - the dark blue in his eyes carrying a deep mystery. despite his typical mean,brooding state - barely sparing anyone around him more than a glance, you were always so drawn to him - his roughness; it only made your mind wonder to places they definitely shouldn’t be going, especially not about your brother
his hands; so rough and calloused, always adorned with the familiar gold cameron ring gifted by his father. you’d thought about them more often than you’d like to admit, what’d be like to hold them - intertwining them within yours. you wondered how’d they’d feel inside you, fitting in you so snug - reaching places inside you that you could only imagine of. the thought of them wrapped tightly around your neck, his fingers inside your mouth, making their way down your thro-
“your up early, must’ve slept good” you look up at him, realising you’d been staring intently at the lengths of his fingers, his voice was husky signalling he must’ve just gotten up aswell
you didn’t miss the subtle smirk as he uttered out the end of his sentence. weird you thought but didn’t pay it much thought, rafe is rafe. “yeah i guess-” you sigh out, hands softly grazing against the edge of the counter as you moved slightly closer “i mean i went to bed pretty late but it’s fine”
“yeah?” it was hard to miss his teasing tone, you couldn’t help but look down at the ground - feeling small in his presence “and why did you go to bed so late” the sudden shift in position nearly startles you, with rafe’s tall figure looming over you, standing impossibly close. you could feel his minty breath coming slowly closer and closer, making your pussy clench around air
you couldn’t help but take in his appearance, wearing nothing but a tight pair of boxers which did nothing to hide his quite obvious boner poking at the front of your thigh, hair tussled above the icy blue in his eyes
“just on-” the quiver in your voice only seemed to push him closer “on my ph- phone” you ramble out, hoping this conversation would be over soon enough
and just as he goes to speak, the voice of ward and rose waking up could be heard from downstairs, thank god- but it doesn’t stop him from shifting closer, leaning down to your ear “ well get to bed earlier-” he drawls out, voice unusually soft and gentle “f’me kay” he begins to leave but not before placing a sticky kiss on the bottom of your cheek, hands resting dangerously low on your back but quickly glide off at the arrival of the rest of the family, as he rushes his way upstairs
you stood there hot and bothered and all that rested in your mind was the excitement of straddling your pillow tonight hoping it was him;your mean older step brother
#dividers by plutism#outer banks#obx#rafe cameron#obx drabble#rafe cameron core#rafe cameron drabble#rafe cameron concepts#rafe cameron prompt#stepbro!rafe#rafe cameron x reader#rafe obx#rafe cameron smut#rafe smut#tw stepcest#rafe imagine#rafe outer banks#rafe x reader
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cherry kiss
sevika x f!stripper!reader
warnings! pole dancing (if that can be taken as a warning), public sex(??), fingering, orgasm denial, pussy slapping, slight choking, cunnilingus, masturbating, hair pulling, dom!sevika, sub!reader, sevika is a bit mean but we love it, she gets called ma’am once
men and minors dni!!
no mentions of y/n, but reader is called by her stage name cherry
word count: 3.4k words (i got a little too passionate…)
ৎ୭ summary: sevika found herself in a strip club, only to end up getting a lot more than a simple lap dance.
note: wrote smut for the first time in years, and idk how to feel. excuse me if this is absolutely shit, i was sleep deprived every time i was writing this. sorry for any errors, english isn’t my first language. not proofread!!
it isn’t exactly the place sevika usually finds herself in. strip clubs are not her thing. she prefers action over mere watching, but today just wasn’t it. not even a good lay in babette’s brothel can save her sour mood, which is more than surprising even for her. she doesn’t even know why she’s here. she just needs a distraction, and she knows the quietness of her place would only deepen her stress, which is something she really does not want right now, no matter how well she can handle it.
so here she is, in a strip club, surrounded by cheap smelling perfume, neon signs casting some light around the dimly lit place. boasting laughter, cheers and all sorts of other noises she’d rather block out from men around her fill her ears as they watch women dancing on the stage and sway around the pole. sevika, however, is completely silent. almost eerily so.
she just watches. glares, more like as she sits in the booth, awaiting another stripper nicknamed cherry, as the announcer says. ‘silly choice of a name,’ she thinks. her leg bounces under the table, swirling the whisky she just took a sip of on her tongue as the curtain spreads open, revealing you, and her body goes still. it’s like a spell, and sevika isn’t quite sure what has her so mesmerized the second you appear on that long, runway-like stage, neon lights shining on your almost naked body, the way they enhance the confident aura you give out. her grey eyes are focused solely on you, almost as if she’s judging your every movement. from the sway of your hips, to the subtle bounce of your breasts in that skimpy red bra as you stride toward the pole and your fingers wrap around the metal one by one.
a low hum rumbles in the back of her throat, a mixture of curiosity and appreciation while watching you perform. you clearly know what you’re doing, that sevika can see, and it works. even on her. she’d rather die than admit it out loud to anyone, but you have your charm to you and she likes it.
it’s like she’s not even blinking, at least that’s how it feels to you. you notice the woman’s gaze the second you approach the pole, and how it never moves away, not even when she takes a sip of her whisky. your coworkers shared their experience whenever they left the stage, saying how sevika’s glare caused them to nearly mess up their performance. in all honesty, it had made you nervous yourself while you waited for your own turn. dancing before a woman of such power, it’s nothing like dancing for all those nobodies who salivate over a sliver of skin shown. but as you had taken a first step on that stage, with your gaze immediately falling on her, all of that vanishes into something else, something you just can’t explain with words.
you give it your all, making sure to give her the show she never forgets and possibly needs, based on the worn out look she wears on her face. your body moves to the rhythm of the same song you always have to dance to. the song you’re normally so sick of, now gives you a rush. you dance with newfound passion, happy to show off your skills and body to silco’s number two. you play with her, yet you give her the most of you. fingertips lingering on your skin a second longer as you caress your body, from your hips to your breasts. looking over your shoulder when you’re turned towards the pole, the corners of your lips twitching up when you bend forward, showing off your thong-clad rear. it’s all for her, and you are absolutely enjoying the attention.
the endless cheering and lewd comments from men are fully blocked in your mind, your goal as clear as piltover’s sky. you want to make this woman watch you until the very end, to have her gaze on you and you only.
and oh, does it work. sevika’s gaze does not move away from you even when your performance ends and you go back backstage, and you’re certain her eyes are focused on your thighs as you walk. the euphoria you feel after this dance was nothing you’ve ever experienced. for the first time since working here, you’re almost disappointed that you had to leave the stage. your theme song that usually drags on suddenly felt short. you want to give her more of you, all of you.
you sulk in your seat, fixing up your neatly done makeup. there isn’t any need to fix it, you just want to get your mind off of the woman, but it’s completely useless. her grey eyes pollute your brain, and you can still see them when you close your eyes. never in your life were you this desperate for someone, it’s almost embarrassing. you sigh and put the makeup brush done, pursing your lips together. you wonder if you’ll see her again, if you’ll get to dance for her just like you had just a moment ago. you would give her more than just a plain dance show, so much more.
your thoughts get abruptly interrupted by your boss, her voice loud and demanding as she calls out to you. all you can do is hold back an eye roll and get up from the chair, making her way over to her with a look that can only be described as ‘i don’t get paid enough for this.’
“you’re expected in the vip salon,” she bites, her wrinkles crinkling under that heavy layer of makeup. “it’s a very important guest. don’t fuck it up.”
she taps your chest with her point finger, long nail stabbing your skin, and leaves the backstage. you watch her arrogant stomp, scoffing under your breath as soon as she’s far enough from you to not hear it. she calls every guest important, even the scummiest man in zaun is a ‘special guest.’ you know why she says it, she wants you to do your best, to not embarrass her brand, but it quickly gets annoying than encouraging.
your heels thump against the floor as you walk slowly to the salon, your mind running at full speed. you can only hope it’s sevika, but a part of you doubts it. there is no way she liked your performance so much she’d pay for private dance, right?
oh, how wrong you were.
the second you open the fluffy curtain, you’re met with those same steel eyes, belonging to none other than sevika. you eye her up and down, taking in the way she sits on the couch, her muscular thighs spread open and her exposed arm thrown over the backrest. you linger on the bare part of her lower stomach, abs peeking out of the crop top and v-line disappearing under the waistband of her pants. it’s a downright sinful sight, almost picture worthy.
“i didn’t pay for you to just stand there, did i?” her deep voice catches you off guard, and your eyes travel back up to her face. she’s smirking at you, fully aware of your gawking.
you can only pray to janna to survive this dance, secluded in a small room with this dangerously sexy woman.
“right. sorry,” you give her a small apologetic grin while walking to the small music box in the corner to tune in a song.
your hands are shaking a little, but it’s hardly nervousness. it’s excitement, anticipation, maybe even a hint of arousal. your blood is running hot, and you can feel a kick of energy, as if dosed on shimmer. none of your customers made you feel this way, but her.
your hands are already wrapped around the silver pole with your back facing her, ready to move to the music until her voice echoed in your ears.
“come here.”
your whole body stiffens, the music blocked out in your mind. being a stripper for years, never had you actually danced in front of a client. it’s sort of a rule for you; just watch but no touch, but when it comes to sevika, you are more than ready to forget it all just to please her. you pull yourself away from the pole and walk up to her, hands running over your sides. her eyes never leave your face and, by the gods, shivers run down your spine in waves, running all the way between your legs.
three more steps, and you finally stand between her spread thighs, and only now that you stand so close you notice just how damn thick they are. she looked better up close, no art or photo of her could do her justice, that you are sure of. a smirk makes its way on sevika’s lips as she watches your hips sway, your fingertips tap and stroke your skin. she is so into it, her hand is practically itching to just grab you by the waist and drag you down on her thigh.
it’s as if your minds link for a moment, because your smaller hand finds hers, guiding it to your stomach. sevika doesn’t react, at least not visibly, though you can’t say that about yourself. the second her rough, calloused palm runs over your abdomen to your hip, your body reacts on its own, almost like it isn’t even connected to your brain. she pulls you down on her leg, chuckling under her breath as your breath hitches. she has you where she wants you, and you can only comply to her every wish.
“babette’s is a few blocks away, y’know?” you mutter breathlessly, and you can only curse yourself out for how affected you are by her mere presence. it’s embarrassing, humiliating even, but you are oh so close to not give a single fuck. “someone can catch us here.”
sevika chuckles once more, liking your slightly mouthy attitude. it makes her want to put you in your place, take out her bad mood on you in all the ways she can. “by the way you’re reacting, i doubt you even give a damn,” her voice fills your ears, laced with a playful biting tone. “cherry.”
you suddenly feel coldness of a metal on your arm, pointy ridges of metal fingers digging into the flesh. she moves you around like a rag doll, like you weight nothing to her, until you straddle both of her legs and your thighs are spread apart. “tell me, what kind of services can you offer for extra coin?” she teases you, her thick fingers toying and pulling on the string of your thongs, making it snap back to your skin. “besides a little lap dance.”
the air is thick with tension, pushing down on your shoulders. it’s an intense, sexual sensation, one you can barely get enough of. you feel as if you are getting dragged by the ankle into the deep pit of unbridled lust, and it bubbles deep in your belly. you crave her.
you yearn for her.
“for you? anything,” you muster up the last bits of your attitude and smirk at her, your hand coming up to her right shoulder to steady yourself. “free of charge.”
it’s all sevika needs, and in a matter of seconds, she pounces on you, her lips running along your pulse. she doesn’t kiss, not yet. she merely toys with you, shapes you to her liking until you are but a mess. every touch of hers has a purpose, and unlike in a brothel, she is taking her sweet damn time. she’s frustrating herself by this point, all of the shit she had to deal with were simmering under the lid and ready to leak out, but something in her told her to utterly wreck you.
the music continues to play, silencing every small noise that escapes from your mouth. her fingers start to travel lower, following the fabric of the lace until the fingertips hover just above your clothed clit. she doesn’t even brush over it, yet you can feel your cunt clench around nothing. you bit on your bottom lip as sevika’s fingers linger on your thong, cheap cherry taste of your lipstick hitting your tongue.
“means that i can do this, right?” she asks into your skin, finally putting pressure on your clit. you jump in her lap, the sudden touch making you flinch away.
sevika doesn’t let you move away. she only chuckles when her mechanical arm goes down to your hip, pinning you to her lap like you are her trophy. there is no way she’s letting you go now, she wants to see you tremble.
your mind is hazy, and so foggy you can barely think of anything other than her, and the feeling of her fingers circling over your sensitive clit.
“do anything you want. i’m here to give you a show, aren’t i?” you try to keep your bravado, but it collapses like a house of cards the second her hand slips under the fabric, touching your cunt.
“fuck, you’re wet,” she laughs at you, pulling away from the crook of your neck to look into your eyes. “are you that desperate, or what?”
you cry out in pleasure as an answer, which is all she needs. her fingers tease your clit, circling it, pinching it between her thumb and point finger, which only makes you wetter for her. it’s as if you’ve never had a good fuck in your life, and she is there to fix that.
sevika continues to tease you for a few lingering seconds, simply enjoying the sight of you crumbling beneath her touch, until she moves lower and leaves your swollen bundle of nerves twitching, yearning for contact. she doesn’t waste time to slip not one, but two of her fingers into your drenched hole, stretching it out.
“oh fuck,” you groan out once you feel her fingers move, pumping into you in a rough, but slow pace.
she keeps them curled just right, brushing over that sweet spot that makes your back arch and your eyes roll back. it’s clear that she is experienced, because she knows just how to touch you to keep you shivering in her lap. you drop your head to look at her hand moving between your legs, but sevika doesn’t allow you that for long.
her prosthetic hand shoots up to your neck, cocking your head upwards to keep you from looking away. she only applies little pressure to your throat, not hard enough to choke you out, but rather a little warning.
“eyes on me, cherry,” she rasps out, her eyes so intense it sends shivers down your spine. “be a good girl.”
her voice has you clenching around her fingers, pathetic mewls of pleasure rolling out of your mouth. you have no choice but to keep your gaze on her, your sight blurry and slightly unfocused as sevika’s fingers continue to fuck your cunt. as much as she enjoys the sounds you’re making, your voice is slowly starting to get louder than the music that still plays in the background.
with the metal hand on your throat, she tugs you forward, crashing her lips on your in a bruising kiss to swallow the moans you’re letting out. she doesn’t give you a chance to let you dominate the kiss as her tongue slides into your mouth. she is in charge, and she’s letting you know it.
the taste of hard liquor and smoke hits your tongue, but you’re too deep in pleasure to cringe at the taste. in all honesty it turns you on even more. the sensation of her thick fingers, pumping in and out of your drenched pussy combined with her mouth on yours make you go crazy. you are so close, your orgasm just a few thrusts away.
the way your walls clench and unclench tells sevika that you’re about to cum, but where is the fun in giving you what you want so early. she pulls her fingers out, and when you try to whine in protest, she lands a few hard smacks on your cunt. you can feel the slaps even through the fabric of your lingerie, that’s how rough she is.
“not yet, cherry. i’m far from done with you,” she mumbles when she pulls away from the kiss, her lips glistening with the mixture of your and her saliva. she grins, reaching for one of many fluffy cushions and throwing it on the floor underneath you. “on your knees.”
she lets go of your throat, letting you sink down on the floor. your knees nuzzle into the softness of the pillow, hands falling on the buckle of her belt to undo it. sevika lifts her hips when you unbutton her pants, letting you pull them down along with her underwear. she pulls one leg out to spread her legs more, giving you space to get closer.
you don’t dive in right away. instead, you run your tongue over her thighs, all while looking up at her. it’s like your little revenge on her for teasing you before, and for not letting you cum. sevika grits her teeth, her nostrils flaring a little. a woman normally with patience of steel is suddenly a ticking bomb, ready to explode.
her real hand moves to your hair, grabbing a fistful of the strands. she doesn’t pull at it, but her grip is tight. “don’t test my patience. not today.”
the tone of her voice, authoritative and commanding gives you chills, your cunt once again clenching around nothing. your eyes wander over her body until it stops on the wet mess between her muscular legs, and that’s all it takes to convince you to give her what she wants.
“yes, ma’am,” you whisper, and sevika’s grip on your hair loosens just enough for you to move.
with one final glance at her face, you delve your tongue into her cunt, moaning at the taste of her. your nose nudges against her swollen clit, which makes her let out a deep moan. her whole expression falters as you eat her out, curses and noises escaping her mouth like a mantra, a sinful prayer.
“you’re good, cherry,” she praises you breathlessly, fingers combing through your hair. “you sure you – oh, fuck – didn’t choose a wrong profession?”
you don’t give her an answer, your mouth being too busy with her pussy to talk. you eat her like a woman starved, like she is your last meal. you can feel her slick staining your chin, but you can hardly care. you only have one goal in mind, and that’s to take her over the edge.
your own cunt throbs whenever she moans, or accidentally tugs at your hair when your tongue laps at her clit. you’re desperate for release, just as you are desperate for her. your hand slowly slides into your panties, chasing your orgasm as your fingers rub your clit.
sevika can see what you’re doing, but all she can think about is how well your mouth pleases her. she tries to compose herself, to last longer, but the burning sensation in the pit of her stomach is getting unbearable, the coil ready to snap at any moment. all she needs is one final push.
and you give it to her. your lips wrap around her clit, sucking on it, which is what sends sevika over the edge. she throws her head back and moans out loud, not even caring who might hear outside of the salon. she cums into your mouth, her thighs squeezing your head. your own orgasm follows right after, and you whimper into her cunt. your back arches, you can’t pull away nor can you catch a breath, not when her muscular thighs keep you in a lock. your whole lower face is buried in her cunt for a few seconds, and you have to tap on her thigh to let you go, your lungs begging for air.
she looks down at you and realization hits her, her legs spreading apart again to let you move. you both gasp for air when you pull away, pants filling the room. the music stopped playing a while ago, and it dawns on you that your time with her should’ve ended minutes ago. yet you find yourself unable to actually leave the salon, not when you have just silco’s second-in-command cum like that.
sevika, who is not in a better state than you, feels the same. she grins down at you, her hand caressing your hair with gentleness that’s almost uncharacteristic to her.
“you may be a stripper, cherry, but i think you just found yourself a regular.”
#lesbian#wlw#arcane#sevika#sevika smut#sevika x reader#i love women#arcane league of legends#lets go lesbians#i need her#sevika x you#arcane season 2
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۫ ꣑ৎ A TRIM || carl grimes x female reader
summary: carl refused to let anyone near his hair after losing his mom, but when he desperately needs a trim he goes to the person he trusts most, you.
(intended lowercase)
warnings: mentions of losing a parent.
pure fluff
“a trim, got it?”
carl twisted around in the chair he was sitting on to face you, you could tell he was nervous and you understood why. he hadn't cut his hair since he was 13, lori used to give him haircuts and he couldn't bring himself to let anyone else do it after she died, until now.
you currently stood behind him, a pair of shears held in your dominant hand while your other held a comb and spray bottle. “yes, a trim, I got it. now, are you gonna sit still and let me start?” you teased, a brief laugh passing your lips.
he nodded, removing the bandage from around his face and setting it on the counter next to his hat. “yeah, just please be careful—”
“carl.” you interrupted, making eye contact with him through the mirror, taking in his worried expression. “I know how important your hair is to you and I will be very careful, I just need you to trust me.”
he caught his lip between his teeth before giving you a curt nod and straightening his posture. “okay.”
you gave him a reassuring smile followed by a gentle kiss to the top of his head before starting. you grabbed a section of his hair, spraying it with the water until it was drenched, repeating this until his hair was thoroughly soaked. you didn't have a lot of experience with cutting hair and you were beyond nervous, but when he came to you and asked you if you would give him a trim you didn't have the heart to tell him no.
you took a deep breath before grabbing a decent portion of hair, bringing the comb to it and running it through it, stopping about an inch from the bottom, holding it up so carl could see it, “how's that?”
“that's fine.” he concluded after a few moments of staring at it, closing his eyes tightly when you brought the scissors up to his hair.
you hesitated. you knew how important this was to him, when he told you stories about his mom your heart would ache for him, and his hair was one of the only things left he could relate to her besides judith and messing this up would break his heart.
the sound of the scissors snipping the hair caused you both to flinch, you watching the hair fall to the tiled floor.
you exchanged a glance with him to make sure he was still comfortable, and you continued, copying your previous cut over and over again until you had chopped roughly the same length of hair off of every section.
the bathroom was completely silent minus the sound of the scissors and you shuffling around, neither of you could bring yourselves to speak, both too focused on your movements to say anything.
eventually, you finished the larger part of his hair and all that was left was his bangs. you walked around so you could be face to face with him, examining the way his bangs framed his face. “okay..” you mumbled, grabbing the larger portion of his bangs between your index and middle finger using them as a guide and you worked on his fringe while trying to avoid getting any hair in the open wound on his face. once you were satisfied with how that side looked, you moved onto the other side, making a few quick snips before setting the scissors down and stepping back to admire your work.
“what do you think? did I do okay?”
he stood up, leaning closer to the mirror to examine his hair as you watched him anxiously, awaiting his reaction. you rocked back and forth on your heel, your hands interlaced behind your back, “carl?” you tried, becoming extremely paranoid that you had messed up, but your worry was quickly brought to an end when he wrapped his arms around you.
“it looks great, thank you.”
your worried expression was replaced by a geeky smile, and you returned his hug, giving him a tight squeeze. “oh thank god, I was so worried.” you laughed, pressing a kiss to the bridge of his nose,
“thank you, by the way.” he looked confused at your statement, tilting his head to the side slightly, “for what?”
“for trusting me, I know that this was hard for you and i’m glad you trusted me of all people.”
he ducked his head down and nuzzled his face in the crook of your neck, smiling against the exposed skin, “i’m glad I did, too.”
masterlist
#carl grimes#carl grimes fanfiction#carl grimes smut#carl grimes x fem!reader#carl grimes x reader#carl grimes x y/n#carl grimes x you#chandler riggs#grimes family#the walking dead angst#the walking dead fanart#the walking dead x reader#the walking dead#twd carl#twd x reader#twd fanfiction#twd daryl#twd rick#rick grimes#daryl dixon#carl grimes imagine#carl grimes fluff
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ㅤᡣ𐭩ㅤ◟ relationship deep-dive: what to expect. ── sukuna ryomen, gojo satoru, inumaki toge ﹕ jjk.
﹙ headcanons galore ﹚ ⊹ what to expect from them in a relationship — scenario & texts.
+ love ‘su: u can skip the mini scenarios n go straight for the smau ☝🏽 its just there for context !!
sukuna ryomen.
sukuna's favourite thing to do is telling you “no,” even when he means “yes.”
he'd openly reject your suggestions and requests, refute your opinions, or just outright say “no,” when in truth, he's making a mental note to get it done before dinner time.
showing affection in its purest form isn't his strong forte, and he's not working on it either. as much as he adores you, he dislikes having his brain wracked with colliding emotions.
to sukuna's fortune, his irritable personality lined up with your peculiar tastes, making him the man you've sought out and only found in dreamland.
strongly contradicting his exterior, sukuna thinks you're the cutest when you're sulking because he pulled out the infamous “no,” even though you were confident he'd agree this time.
you're the least fear-inducing person he's ever laid his eyes on. automatically, your attempts of using anger to persuade him backfires. this might just be his first time experiencing the so-called ‘cuteness aggression.’ he's only ever heard of it from you, but experiencing it first hand made him battle with himself to not crush your face between his palms — in the most romantic way possible.
gojo satoru.
arguments with satoru can vary based on two conditions: what his current mood is, and what the level of fuck up is. usually the arguments are lighthearted, or it doesn't last long. oftentimes he fuels it, too petty to accept defeat.
however, if they do last longer he puts his pride aside and goes (chases) after you. he's addicted to you — giving him permanent silent treatment is the same as taking away his oxygen! he's basically a dead man.
every time satoru owns up to his behaviour, he forgets that the old saying “what goes around, comes around.” once he accepted defeat, you copied his behaviour. this wasn't something he foreseen. getting a taste of his own mecidine did not feel lovely at all.
inumaki toge.
originally, you were just friends with inumaki. close friends at best — there weren't any mixed signals, slick comments, or hinting at something. just a calm friendship between you and him. somewhere down the lines, the friendship took a turn. for the worst? not quite. for the best? maybe.
it's not rare for two friends to gossip about their love life. texting inumaki after a failed attempt became a natural reflex for you. you were skeptical if he grew tired of it, but you also didn't care. as the male friend, he had no choice but to listen!
eventually failure after failure is bound to tire a person out completely, so why not ‘jokingly’ try with him? trial and error never hurts.
#. ae generated: jujutsu kaisen#ignore the fact that the times exposed i did this at 3-4 am#jjk x reader#jujutsu kaisen x reader#jjk smau#jujutsu kaisen smau#sukuna x reader#gojo x reader#inumaki x reader#sukuna ryomen fluff#gojo satoru fluff#inumaki toge fluff#jjk headcanons#jjk fluff#jjk x you#sukuna x you#gojo satoru x you#inumaki x you#jjk x fem!reader
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teach me - Chris Sturniolo
summary: you find out you’re bestfriend chris is a total virgin, and has never touched himself, you offer to teach him everything
contains: nsfw, sub!chris, virginity loss, inexperienced!chris, handjob, fluff.
——————————————————————————
chris and i have been friends for years, i met him in middle school when we were placed in the same class.
we tell eachother most things, but a topic that never gets brought up often between us is our personal sex life, obviously he makes dirty jokes every hour of the day but that’s about it.
i sit on the couch with chris as we yap about useless topics,
suddenly he goes dead silent.
“chris?” i question, inspecting his blank face. he shakes his head before speaking,
“what.” he mutters, my eyebrows furrow from the very unexpected change in attitude.
“what happened with you?” i ask, scooting closer to him on the couch and tracing my fingers over his knuckles.
“i can tell you anything right?” he whispers, my heart rate starts to subtly pick up.
“yes- of course!” i state with a nervous laugh.
he hesitates for a moment, his hand reaching up and rubbing the back of his neck.
“i’m like, really frustrated.” he says with no other context,
“frustrated? did i say something-“ i fidget with his hand.
“no! like… sexually frustrated-“ he says barely above a whisper.
my cheeks flush, that’s the first time chris has mentioned anything sexually involving him.
“oh? when was the last time you fucked a girl.” i ask calmly, he buries his face into his palms with a small groan
“never.” he whines quietly.
“what?”
“never!” he repeats slightly louder.
“you’re a virgin?” i ask, he nods shyly.
“you’re the most- i mean i just didn’t expect that-“ i ramble, trying to make him feel better.
“i’m honestly coming up on 21 and i’ve never done anything it’s so annoying.” chris speaks up.
“i get it, just do stuff with yourself.” i sigh,
“i don’t know how to..” he groans,
���you don’t know how to do what?” i ask,
“touch myself? i don’t fucking know-“ he says.
a small laugh escapes my lips, “you are literally the most horny man i know, how have you gone a solid 20 years without touching yourself.”
“i’ve never had a need to, but these past few months have been.. different” he laughs,
“jesus chris, i understand why you’re frustrated now.” i scoff,
he nods with a grin, a silence filling the living room.
he avoids eye contact before opening his mouth, “you’re like.. the only person who knows about that.”
i nod, “thank you for telling me chris.”
“so- you genuinely don’t know how to touch yourself?” i repeat,
“i mean i know how to but i’ve never tried- i did try once but i don’t think i did it right cause it didn’t feel good.” he sighs.
“i can teach you.” i blurt out, almost cutting him off. i clasp a hand over my mouth before spinning around.
he goes quiet, almost contemplating his decision.
“would you?- teach me..?” he whispers,
“i- i mean i guess” i reply,
how the fuck is this happening.
chris’s chest rises and falls more dramatically now, he runs a hand through his long silky hair.
i stand up off the couch, grabbing his hand and tugging him up.
i pull him down the corridor into his bedroom, “god what are the chances of you, chris sturniolo, being a total virgin?” i say in disbelief, his cheeks go red with a small laugh.
i sit him down on the edge of his bed, “we’re really doing this?” he asks,
“it’ll just be- normal, just a one time thing. i mean it’s a positive thing and you’ll finally be able to do stuff with yourself!” i smile,
“o-okay you can just tell me everything i need to do.” he breathes,
“let’s start by getting these off you.” i say crouching down next to the edge of the bed and tugging his sweatpants down his legs.
“you might wanna take your shirt off, you’ll get hot.” i tell him,
he complies, discarding his shirt onto the pile of pillows at the other end of the bed.
he sits in just his boxers.
i take in a deep breath before harshly pulling my shirt off my body, exposing my completely bare chest.
i mean, i had to get him hard at some point?
a small “woah” escapes his raw lips as he shamelessly stares
“woah is crazy.” i mock him, earning a small giggle from him.
i push him further back onto the bed, his back resting against the headboard.
i sit down and straddle his thighs, looking down at him slightly.
“okay, can i take these off?” i ask, tugging at the hem of his black boxers, which have a large tent in them.
“yeah- go for it-“ he sighs with an excited grin.
i tug them down, his erection springing out and resting against his stomach.
“oh my god chris!” i state without thinking,
“is it bad?” he instantly replies with,
“no- no just big.” i whisper,
i take his length into my hand, just holding it up right.
he sighs deeply,
i almost forget i’m meant to be teaching him.
“right, so give me your hand.” i say, grabbing his hand
i spit into the palm of his hand, “oh-“ he breathes,
“sorry.” i giggle,
i grab his wrist and guide his hand to his cock.
“what i want you to do first is just rub that spit all over it f’me.” i say, looking into chris’s eyes.
he wraps his hand around his dick, before stroking it slowly up and down.
“there we go, just like that.” i nod, he watches his hand intently as it runs up and down his length.
i adjust my position on his thighs before holding the outside of his hand, and taking it off his dick.
i just hold the outside of his hand now, moving it wherever i want it.
“i only need your thumb right now.” i whisper, he nods, curling all his other fingers.
i hold his thumb and brush it over his raw tip, a small gasp escapes his mouth.
“just keep rubbing that for me.” i instruct him softly,
he nods frantically as he continues to do exactly that.
i guide his thumb into his slit, a pathetic gasp escapes his lips, “oh my god!” his voice raises a couple octaves.
“good boy, you’re doing really well.” i praise him, which he responds very well to,
i hear several loud whimpers fall from his lips, along with his hips lifting slightly off the bed.
“now give me your other hand.” i say, prying his hand away from the sheets.
i place it on the lower portion of his dick, and guide it up and down.
i squeeze his hand slightly around his dick, his mouth falling open.
“i- i need to stop its getting too much!” he protests with tears pooling in his eyes,
“no sweetheart, that just means you’re about to finish, which will feel really nice, okay?” i assure him,
“fuck-! yes-“ he squeezes out, bucking his hips up into his hands.
his eyes are squinted open slightly, still directly staring at my tits.
i take my hand off the outside of his, and reach it down to cup his balls.
that seems to tip him over the edge.
“pleasepleasepleaseplease”
he rambles, throwing his head back against the headboard before spurts of white land on his stomach and chest.
“good, so so good, keep running your hand up and down and ride it out.” i instruct him, which he does.
he slowly takes his hands away, letting them fall limp onto the sheets as he’s completely silent.
“that- that felt incredible y/n.” he pants in shock,
“how did i go 20 years without ever doing that? jesus.” he covers his flushed face with his hands.
“you did so well.” i assure him, he lets out a soft whine.
i laugh lightly, “you respond well to words like that” i say under my breath.
“mmhm.” he agrees, “that shit did something to me.”
i reach over and tug on my shirt, he lays still on the bed,
streaks of white still lay across his torso.
“oh- hold on.” i say, grabbing his shirt and starting to gently clean him up.
i tug up his boxers and sweatpants, he sighs deeply before flopping down on the bed.
“thank you- so much.” he sighs,
“do you want me to.. maybe teach you more tomorrow?” i ask boldly,
his eyes almost light up, “shit, please do.” he laughs.
—-
tags:
@downbad4reid @sturniolo04 @similartokayyz @sturnsintrouble @ilovemattsturn @raysmayhem-72 @75sturn @sturniol0s @secret-sturniolo @hfkeclnendmwodne @sturniolosass @gxldenlush @stonermattsgf @101sara @beccaluvschris @oliviasturniolo21 @imwetforyourmom @tylerstacobell @sunsetsturniolos @aliceloveschris @jayz4dayz4 @sassysturniolo2008 @nyktoxs-lover @nathandoesgf @starsturns234 @chrissturnsss s @joemamaaa42069 @sturnthepot @zayyluvz @realuvrrr @livialifesblog @sturnioloblogs @riowritesitall @raysmayhem-72 @sturnsdoll @obvisturns @stupid4sturniolo @meerkatzthings @witchofthehour @rosalierenee43 @gabrielle-brun1 @ilovemymannnnnnnn @sturnioloxlver @buckys-goodgirl @sturniol0s@ilovemymannnnnnnn @chr1sgirl4life @luanetaluenta @sturnsssbow @mattfangirl @luvr4miya @luvtay111 @lolasturniolo @freshloveforthefit @ruedowney @lovingchrissposts @333michelle @h3arts4harry @jamiesturniolo @chrisstopherfilmed @itzdarling @ @daddyslilchickenfingers2 @ev3rgreenxtrees @certifiednatelover @solarsturniolo @mattsenthusiast @yomamaslays4lyfe @peachmels @alinaa131 @pepsiluvr0209 @creamoncreamoncream2 @szobofc @mattscoquette @blahbell668 @sturniolo04 @bitchydragonparadise @sturni0l0 @ratatioulle @sturnsfav @mattsonly @justalittle47 @sunsetsturniolos
#sturniolo#matt sturniolo#chris sturniolo#nick sturniolo#sturniolo triplets#sturniolo smut#matt sturniolo x reader#sturniolo x reader#chris sturniolo x reader#sturniolo fanfic
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Sweeter Than Fiction ༊*·˚
18+ MDNI !!!
Pairing: Spencer Reid x F! Reader / You
Summary: Kinktober 2024 Day 7 - Queening / Face-sitting. Spencer meets Reader when she starts working at his local library and he's quickly in over his head. After he goes snooping for information on her online, he finds out a dirty little secret, she writes fanfiction.
Tags: Face-sitting, Oral sex (f receiving), Fantasies, Masturbation, Pining, Friends to lovers, Love confessions, Sub!Spencer, Autistic!Spencer (implied ig?), Both Spencer and Reader are NERDS, Set somewhere between seasons 1-3.
Word count: 4.6k
Read it on ao3! | Masterlist
Authors note: Surprise!! I changed a couple things on my kinktober due to lack of inspiration so here's an unexpected extra Spencer fic!! This is soooo long and the plot is so self-indulgent and ughhh but he eats you out so...!! Hope you like it anyway mwah ( ◕◡◕)っ ♡
︶⊹︶︶୨୧︶︶⊹︶
Spencer had never felt like this before, he hadn’t really had the chance to. Crushes had never really been his thing, having been significantly younger than his peers all throughout his education and being staunchly focused on his career ever since. He had physical attractions here and there, like an occasional reminder that he really was just a fallible human man as much as anyone else, but never any true feelings, nothing he ever wanted to try to pursue in a serious way. It wasn’t simple for him like it was for someone like Morgan, in many senses of the word. Not only was he just not socially skilled enough to pursue relationships, whether casual or otherwise, with any success, he also had a large set of difficulties that he would carry into any relationship. He was quite touch averse, not that he didn’t desperately crave it all the same, which could easily cause issues in any physical relationship. He also had a lot of emotional baggage, from his mother, from his job, from his bullying. He felt a mess emotionally and didn’t see the point in trying to bring in another person to see the mess in all its glory. So he kept to himself. He wasn’t completely without experience, but every experience he’d had was marred with difficulty and complication, none of it ever lasted. He was reasonably content to keep to himself.
Until he met you. He’d been visiting the library nearest his apartment since he moved to D.C. for work. One day he walked in and you were sitting behind the desk, all bright-eyed and excited. The attraction to you had been immediate, he’d found you to be beautiful, he liked the way you dressed, and he liked your sweet voice as you spoke to the customer in front of you. He thought it would end there, that he would silently find you attractive from afar but remained more focused on other things. Cursed to stammer nervously at you whenever you scanned his books, but never say more than necessary. For a long time, that’s all it was, until he was taking out a book that, unbeknownst to him, was a big favourite of yours.
“Oh my goodness, my favourite” you chuckle as you pick up the book from his pile. “This book is amazing, you’ll love it, I’m sure,” you smile brightly as you scan it onto his card. His fingers twitch where he rests them on the edge of the wooden counter. He hadn’t been prepared to talk to you, but it’s nicer than most things that catch him unprepared.
“Y-yeah? Uh… great,” he swallows, drumming his fingers on the counter as you scan the rest of his books, mostly textbooks.
“Well, if you have any taste that is,” you tease. He laughs back stiffly, his mouth feeling dry.
“I uh… like to think I do…” he smiles awkwardly.
“You’ll have to tell me what you thought of it,” you hand him the books and his brain blanks for a moment. You’re inviting him to speak to you some other time, to have an actual conversation. He moves jerkily, taking the books from you and packing them into his satchel. You smile kindly and wave to him as he leaves. “See you soon,”
The way his mind is spinning from that simple conversation, he knows that this is something different. He collapses onto a bench outside the library, taking a deep breath. Why is his heart racing? Is this what butterflies feel like? He rubs a hand through his hair, messing it up. When the anxiety fades away, he’s left with a warm feeling in his chest. You want to speak to him again. He flips open his satchel and pulls out the book you’d said was your favourite. It’s classic literature, something he’s been meaning to read for a long time now, but has somehow never gotten around to. He devours the book in mere minutes, thanks to his impressive reading speed. It’s an amazingly compelling tale, with feminist undertones that were ahead of their time and he feels he understands you just a little better by knowing you like this book. He packs it back into his satchel and stands, heading back into the library. The queue to your desk is a few people long, but he joins it anyway, fiddling with the strap of his bag. You don’t make much small talk with the people in front of him in the line, making it feel all the more special that you’d spoken to him. He reaches the front and you smile, but tilt your head in confusion.
“Forget something?”
“The book was great,” he blurts, and you look even more confused.
“What?”
“The book, the one you said was your favourite, it was phenomenal, and surprisingly progressive for its time! Having those sorts of sentiments about a woman's role in a marriage in the 18th century, while seeming slightly archaic by today's standards, must have caused quite a stir at the time, especially coming from a female author. British law in 1764 actually suggested that women–” he doesn’t realise he’s rambling until you cut him off.
“Hold on, you read it already?” you look disbelieving. He smiles sheepishly. “I only lent it to you, what?” you glance at the clock on your desktop screen. “15 minutes ago,”
“I can read very fast,” he mumbles, looking at the scuff on the toe of his shoe for a moment. You giggle.
“Yeah, clearly,” you study his face. He goes quiet, eyes flickering over the small decorations you had scattered across your desk as a means of personalising your space. “You were saying?” you prompted softly. He looked up at you in wonder, no one had ever requested he resumes an info dump, usually, he was told to shut up and looked weird, but you seemed to wait with genuine interest. Perhaps that was the moment that he was well and truly done for. He steps aside so that the person behind him in the line can get their books scanned. He talks at you for almost a whole hour, getting lost in tangent after tangent as you work. You occasionally pipe in to ask a question or make a comment, but you seem happy to listen. Suddenly, your already beautiful appearance becomes more like that of an angel or a goddess to him. He’s never wanted something so bad in his life. He leaves the library after you excuse yourself for your lunch break. Once he gets home, he sits down on his couch, smiling dopily. Then, it slowly dawns on him that he’d just stood there and rattled on about various topics that he had no clue if you even had any interest in. He buries his face in his hands and groans. Has he already ruined things with the first person he’s ever felt anything genuine for? It was bound to happen eventually, but this soon? He goes to bed miserable that night.
Fortunately, his misery had been for nothing. The next time he visits the library, you’re there, all smiles at him like usual. When he comes to return his previous book haul (yes, maybe he hasn’t used the returns box since you started working here, what of it?), you greet him, asking if he has any more facts for you. At first, he thinks you’re mocking him, but the genuine smile you give tells him otherwise. He scrambles through his mind for something interesting to tell you, feeling less than a genius at this moment. He settles to ask what your favourite animal is, then spends the next several minutes telling you all the nichest information about that animal he could think of. This time, you start to talk too, though instead of spewing facts, you’re telling him personal anecdotes, or about new books the library has got in. The next several times he comes in, you end up talking for long periods of time. You never interrupt him when he rambles and in return he allows you to ramble too, not bothered by the slightest if he has to listen to you for hours. He’d do it happily. Things escalate over time, and he realises the two of you have truly become friends. The thought excites him, as he is closer to the object of his affection, but also because he doesn’t have all that many friends outside of his work. With you, he has somebody to talk books with, and that means the world to him. You text daily, though they’re not particularly long conversations, just whenever something comes up that you think might interest the other. You’d originally given him your email address and he’d explained that he didn’t use email. He felt completely silly, but you’d just shrugged it off and given him your number. Despite that, he still keeps the piece of paper onto which you scrawled your email address, tacked up by his seldom used computer. Just in case.
The team at the BAU tease him relentlessly when they find out about the ‘sweet girl from the library’ that he texts everyday. Any hint of him interacting with a woman, they latch onto like rabid wolves, but when the texts from you keep popping up on his phone now and then for weeks, they absolutely won’t leave it alone. They all know he likes you, even if he’s been very careful to not reveal this fact and they tease him about it. He’s just glad you’re never there to hear it, as he might just die from the embarrassment. One week, while staying back from a case due to a mild cold, he sits in Garcia’s office and watches her work while he does his own. She had insisted he come keep her company, and he hadn’t quite dared to tell her no. He’s scribbling down some notes about the latest crime scene photos they’ve been sent through when Garcia receives a call. It’s Morgan, asking her to run a check on an email address that may potentially belong to an unsub, to see what kind of accounts can be linked to it, and if there’s anything untoward and potentially warrant-worthy. He watches over her shoulder as she types the email address into a program, which spits back out several accounts all over the internet. He rolls his chair over, watching curiously.
“How do you do that? Is it for FBI stuff only?” he asks nervously, twirling a pen around in his fingers. Garcia laughs and glances over her shoulder.
“No, you can find programs to do this in various places online,” she answers, highlighting accounts of potential interest. He nods, still watching over her shoulder, working his lip between his teeth. He tries to convince himself that he’s not going to do it, even as he asks Garcia to write him down one of these websites. She gives him a knowing look but obliges. He keeps telling himself he won’t do it, and that it’s creepy as he gets the train home, but as soon as he’s in his apartment, he heads for his computer and boots it up. He searches up the site that Garcia recommended and tells himself one last time that he isn’t going to do it, before copying your email address into the search field and hitting enter. He waits as the website loads the results, glancing at the door to his apartment as if you’re going to burst in and tell him off. Oh, how he wishes you’d be in his apartment one day, or he at yours. He’s never really wanted to share a space before, but lately, everything he does he imagines what it would be like to have you there. Your arms around him as he cooks, your head on his lap as he watches TV, your body against his in the bed. The website finishes its search and he takes a deep breath, investigating the results. There are various common social media websites, accounts with academic journals (which he appreciates you for), and a couple of other sites he doesn’t recognise. He clicks on the first and furrows his brows. Fanfiction? He supposes that you are a voracious reader like he is, and you mentioned liking to write, but never admitting to what you wrote. This was it then, was it? Your secret writing? It wasn’t that secret, the account was registered in your name, all the works listed being for books and media that you talked about often. You had quite a decent following, at least in his eyes, you were no celebrity, but you had a decent collection of comments and likes.
He starts to read, beginning with your most popular piece. He digests it in moments, his cheeks burning bright. It was pure pornography. Well not purely, there was quite a well-woven storyline behind it, but the focus was undoubtedly the filthy sex scenes. He loosens his tie, feeling hot. He double and triple checks that this is definitely your account, but it clearly is. He’s feeling a little disbelieving, you had just always seemed so innocent to him, but he supposed the two of you had never discussed sex in any way. Spencer would have combusted if it had ever come up. He inhales the rest of your work, getting unreasonably hard in his slacks as he reads. He’s impressed by the skill of your writing, but more than anything, by how delicious your imagination is. It’s like you’ve plucked every fantasy he’s ever allowed himself to have out of his brain and written it up with beautiful flowery language. He doesn’t know half of the characters that you’ve written for, but it doesn’t matter to him, as he imagines the two of you in their places and it works perfectly. Almost like it was written with the two of you in mind. He discards that thought, but not before noticing that you’ve been writing a lot more in the past few months you’ve known each other. He notices how many of your stories centre around a more submissive male, a favourite trope of yours seeming to be having the female partner sit on their face. He imagines you sitting on his face and groans aloud, having to palm his bulge through his slacks. He imagines you’d be like the protagonists in your stories, dominating but kind. He reaches into his slacks to stroke himself, not something he does often, but something that has certainly been more frequent lately. His eyes skim a passage of one of your stories as he tugs at himself, picturing your face between the words. He cums harder than he thinks he ever has because this feels that much closer to the real thing. Once he’s done, he sits catching his breath, staring at the mess on his hand and stomach. He thinks he should feel ashamed, but he’s still aroused, terribly so. He wishes he could show you what you do to him. Before he can stop himself, his aroused brain much less intelligent than he usually is, he makes an account on the site with his name and leaves a comment on your most recent work.
“This was the hottest thing I’ve ever read,”
He sends it and sits back, wiping the rest of the residue off his stomach. As the haze of arousal lifts, he realises what he’s done. Panicking, he tries to delete the comment, but there’s no option to. He swallows, taking a deep breath. It’ll be okay, he tells himself, if she ever notices, I’ll pretend I was just being sarcastic, teasing her for writing this kind of thing, not genuinely rocked by it. However, his phone is already ringing. It’s you. You never call. You couldn’t have seen the comment already, could you? He seriously debates not answering, even as he’s desperate to hear your voice. Against his better judgment, he picks up the phone.
“Am I speaking to SpencerReid1981?” you chuckle over the phone, your voice teasing as you recite his username. His plans to pretend he was mocking you go out the window the second you talk. He can tell you have one over him by the confident tone in your voice. You’ve had one over him since the day you first met.
“Y-yeah,” he relents, seeing no way out of this now. What would the chances be of another Spencer Reid born in 1981 having commented on your fanfiction? If he wasn’t so nervous and lingeringly aroused, he could’ve told you. He decides to just be earnest. “You’re a really good writer,”
“How did you even find me on there?” you scoff, laughing gently. He blushes, glad you can’t see it.
“You don’t want to know,” he mumbles. There’s a moment of silence.
“So… you found it hot, huh? What part?” he chokes slightly on his spit, going bright red, you can probably tell, even through the phone.
“Don’t make me say it,” he squeaks. You hum softly on the other end.
“Oh come on… you started all this,” you coax. He’s silent for another beat, you hear his laboured breaths on the phone.
“The- when- when she uh… sat on his face,” he stutters out. You smirk.
“Really?” you stretch out the last syllable in a playful manner. “You a big giver then?” you say it to tease him, expecting him to sputter and deny it, to beg to change the subject, but he doesn’t.
“I– I would be for you,” you both go silent, you in shock and him in fear of your reaction. You’re dumbfounded that he would ever be so direct with you. It’s been clear to you for a while that he has a thing for you, you’ve caught his lingering looks on your lips or your thighs, the way you’re able to fluster him, but you’d assumed he’d dance around it forever. He’d just essentially admitted, leaving it hanging in the air.
“Come over,” you answer simply, hanging up the phone before he can ask questions or change his mind. Spencer feels completely dumbstruck by your words. Come over? His legs are carrying him to his door before he can think about it. He grabs his bag and his coat and hurries to his car. He’s never driven so fast in his life, he’s only been at your place once, to drop you off after your work, but the way there is memorised like the back of his hand anyway. He worries in the back of his mind that he may get a speeding ticket, but any fine is worth it for you. He’s sprinting up the stairs of your apartment building, his long frame moving nimbler than ever before. He reaches your apartment and knocks at the door.
You answer the door, dressed in some loungewear and he suddenly realises how real this all is. He stands there staring, unable to do anything else, even as you greet him and tell him to come in. You have to take his arm and pull him inside, your hand on his arm lighting him on fire. But he’s shy again, he needs you to take control of this because he has no clue what he’s doing here. He’s never done something like this before, and he's never been so reckless. Did he even lock the door when he left home? You look so beautiful that everything could be stolen from him and he wouldn’t bat a lash. He fidgets, looking anywhere but your eyes. You’re talking to him but he can’t figure out what you’re saying, his brain feeling like mush. He tries his best to pick out some words from the pleasing hum of your voice. You’re saying something about your bedroom. He connects the dots when you start to pull his arm.
“Wha- wait, what are we doing?” he asks, his voice shaking. You freeze, tilting your head.
“What do you mean what are we doing?”
“I mean– uh– I wasn’t really– are we…?” he stammers, his fingers fidgeting.
“Don’t you want this?” you frown, worrying you’d misread this somehow, even though he’d come rushing over here. He stares at you, eyebrow twitching. You move closer, gently smoothing your hand up his arm. He closes his eyes, losing himself in it.
“Yeah,” he breathes, even though he’s not entirely sure what he’s agreeing to. Whatever it is, if it’s preceded by you touching him like this, it must be good. He follows you like a puppy as you guide him to your bedroom. You place your hands on his chest and he whines, somewhere deep in his throat. The feeling is just so overwhelming in all the best ways. His eyes are wide staring down into yours as your fingers twist, gripping his sweater vest. You lean up, touching your lips to his and he’s whining again. He kisses back, his hands finding your hips, hovering. Your hands are raking through his hair.
“Lie on the bed for me,” you mumble between kisses. He shivers.
“Are you going to sit on my face?” he asks bluntly, needing to know if he’s getting what he’s been thinking about non-stop since earlier this evening, probably even before that. You chuckle at his candour, he’s always been like this and it’s endearing that he’s no different in this situation.
“That’s the idea,” you grin, tilting your head to the side to press closer as you kiss him. He shuffles toward the bed and you push him back to lie down, disconnecting your lips to pull his sweater vest off. He looks up at you pleadingly until you lean down to kiss him again. You straddle his stomach, his hands lie awkwardly at his sides. His breathing is erratic and his fingers fiddle nervously with the material of your sheets. “You okay?” you ask between slow wet kisses.
“Just nervous… I don’t– I can’t disappoint you and I– I don’t really have a lot of experience here,” he admits, his lips pressing needily against yours between words.
“It’ll be fine, I’ll take care of you,” you promise, he nods against you. Even he’s surprised by how much he trusts you. You pull back, watching as he stares up at you, his eyes practically black. He’s panting heavily. You pull your shirt over your head, feeling his hips buck under you as your breasts come into view. He’d always known every inch of you would be perfect for him, and he was right. He was a genius after all. You move just enough to shed your pyjama pants, taking your underwear with them. You stuff your panties into Spencer’s slack pocket with a wink. He takes a shaky breath.
“Thank you,” he exhales, eyes drinking you in. You giggle, shuffling up to straddle his chest. He swallows loudly, his mouth watering from the little glimpse he can get, craning his neck. “I’m so… glad we’re doing this,” he whispers. You chuckle again at his behaviour. You stroke his hair gently and his eyes flutter. He usually hated unexpected touch, but everything you did was blissful.
“Ready?” you ask softly. He nods, eyes fluttering back open, determined to get a glimpse of you that he can commit to memory.
You lift up and shuffle yourself over top of his face. He gasps like he’s just seen God. You, spread open above him, glistening with want. He grips tightly at the sheets, trying to keep himself grounded as the heady smell of you fills his nose. He leans up and places a gentle, experimental kiss on your folds, whining as he does so. You hum softly, leaning forward to brace yourself against the headboard. Puffs of breath wash over your core for a moment, before Spencer leans up, flattening his tongue and laving it against you, up and down, slow and steady. You can tell he’s still finding his way, so you let yourself enjoy the gentle pleasure. You sigh encouragingly as he gets acquainted with the area, exploring it with the tip of his tongue. Never in a million years would he have guessed that you tasted so good. Though he was new at this, he knew anatomy well and knew the spots he’d be looking for. His tongue finds what he assumes to be your clit and he gives it a soft kiss, feeling your hips gently buck. Success. He swirls his tongue carefully around it, not wanting to overwhelm you. Your sighs increase in volume. Spencer takes a chance, lifting his hands and wrapping them around your thighs, pulling you down so you’re more seated on his face. You gasp slightly and he smiles, eagerly returning to his work. His tongue laps at you hungrily, getting into a rhythm. He breathes through his nose, not wanting to stop what he’s doing for even a moment. The taste of you gets stronger and stronger against his tongue as you approach your peak steadily. He groans at the taste. Your hand snakes down into his hair, gripping his long locks to keep yourself anchored. You moan above him, your head lolled forward against the headboard. As he starts to focus his tongue more pointedly on your clit, flicking gently like he read to do in a book once, your hips rut slightly.
“Suck it,” you pant. He doesn’t register your words for a moment but when he does, he happily complies. His lips close around the little nub and he sucks carefully. Your hand tightens in his hair and you wail in pleasure. You grind yourself down onto his face as he suckles at you gently. You both know what’s coming and while Spencer is thrilled he could get you there, he almost doesn’t want it to end. It’s as if you read his mind. “Don’t stop,” you whine, your eyes squeezed shut, nails digging slightly into his scalp. He pulls you closer to his face, focusing all his efforts. He switches fumblingly between licks and sucks, but it seems to be working nonetheless as you become louder and louder. “Oh! Spencer!” you cry out, your whole body shuddering. He almost comes in his pants at the sound of it. “Ooooh!” you wail, reaching your peak. Your body tenses and then releases, going limp with bliss. His lips stop moving and he stares up at you, waiting for your next move. “Oh, that was amazing Spencer,” you sigh, sluggishly moving down his body until your faces are level. He licks his lips, gazing at you adoringly. You reach up to wipe his wet chin with a small smile.
“I was okay, then?” he chuckles nervously, his hand coming to your waist, a little unsure.
“What do you think, genius?” you tease, kissing his temple. He sighs and flutters his eyes closed. Everything had happened so fast, he wasn’t sure what this meant for the two of you and your friendship, so blinded by lust when he got over here. But you were kissing down his jaw and neck, not indicating that you were kicking him out, and he felt a little better for it. He notices that your lips are straying quite low, over his chest and stomach through his shirt. His eyes flutter open and his breath hitches as he sees you gazing seductively up at him.
“Wha–?” he stammers as you start to unbuckle his belt.
“Returning the favour,” you smile, pressing kisses where his shirt had ridden up. He moans softly, his brain starting to turn to mush once more.
“God, I love you,” he gasps. You both go still for a moment as his words sink in. He can’t believe he just said that, especially right now, with your head hovering over his crotch, even if he desperately means it. He opens his mouth to try and fix this but you beat him to it. You press a kiss just below his belly button.
“I love you too,”
︶⊹︶︶୨୧︶︶⊹︶
xoxoxo
#spencer reid#criminal minds#spencer reid x reader#dr spencer reid#spencer reid fanfiction#spencer reid x you#spencer reid fluff#spencer reid smut#criminal minds fandom#smut#fanfic#reader insert#x reader#fem reader#fluff#mgg#mgg x reader#mgg smut#doctor spencer reid#matthew gray gubler#matthew gray gubler x reader#criminal minds smut
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Heyyy ages ago when you wrote "She's missed you" you mentioned you would write about reader being close to Oscar's family and taking his sister's for coffee, would you consider writing something like that please I'd love to read it
This has been in my inbox for some time but i remember when i first got it going, “FINALLY SOMEONE ASKED ME TO DO THIS” I absolutely love this idea i just didn’t know if that was something yall wanted to see!!
Y/n and the Piastri Sisters, the Piastri Sisters and Y/n
Summary: Oscar knew that Y/n and his sisters were close, but to wake up on a Saturday morning to find all of them gone, he wonders if he really underestimated how much the girls loved each other’s company.
Warnings: none, absolute FLUFF, cutest thing i think ive ever written lowkey, yn and Oscar being relationship GOALS (i want what they have), one remark about Oscar wanting to plan their wedding
What Oscar expects when he wakes is Y/n’s head shoved into the crook of his neck, breathing deeply as she slept. He’s always the one to wake up and, while he used to hate that when sleeping at his friends’ houses, he learned to cherish it. Cherish it because it gave him the opportunity to admire the beauty of his girlfriend when she wouldn’t see and blush whilst pushing him away. The soft dip at the top of her lip, the freckles around her nose, and the strands of her hair splayed across his pillow were all things he loved to stare at when he got the privilege of waking up before her. Yet, to his dismay, this morning when his eyes fluttered open, his girlfriend is nowhere to be found.
Frowning, he rises from the bed and looks around. Her clothes from last night are still flung over his desk chair, but her purse, the black bag that was right beside the clothing just hours before, is gone. His confused expression deepens and he moves to the bathroom, finding the door closed. He assumes she’s in there, maybe having brought her purse in because she had gotten her period and needed the tampons from it. However, that idea soon falls apart when he remembers the basket he’d set up underneath his sink with everything she could possibly need if she ever were to get it whilst at his house. And he knows there’s no way she has it seeing as two weeks ago she had pushed him away when he was trying to have… fun and told him it would be too messy.
Plus, the bathroom is weirdly silent and when he knocks on the door, “Baby?”, nobody answers. It creaks as he pushes it open and the small room is completely empty. Void of his girl.
The image of Oscar Piastri, in only his boxers, standing in the midst of his bathroom with knotted eyebrows and his arms stretched out at his side with his palms facing up would make anyone chuckle. He’s so genuinely lost at the lack of Y/n and it’s written all over him. From the way his eyes dart from the bed, maybe he had somehow missed her, to the door, it’s clear he’s trying to figure it all out in his head.
Finally, he comes to realize that the only logical explanation is that she’s downstairs or somewhere else in the house. So, his body takes him to the hallway outside. No Y/n. Then, he walks down to the kitchen and living room. No Y/n. Maybe the dining room? Nope.
Where the hell is Y/n?
He remembers a time when he was having trouble locating the girl and had only found her because her giggling had echoed throughout the whole house. That time, she had been with his sister in her room. Oscar loves how close his three sisters and Y/n are, but it makes him groan in annoyance when they steal his moments alone with her.
He goes to Hadie’s room first, but he finds it empty. Weird. Usually, the girl sleeps in late and, if not, she’s almost always in there.
Then, it’s Mae’s and he finds the same thing. Completely empty.
Lastly is Edie and he’s partially not surprised to find it’s empty as well.
Now, he’s wondering where his sisters are.
“Mom?!” He yells into the house, hoping his mother can alert him on where the majority of the women in his life have gone to.
He hears soft steps before his mother’s face appears at the bottom of the stairs, “Yes, love?”
Oscar patters down to her, looking completely helpless and lost. She frowns at him, noting her son’s lack of enthusiasm.
He huffs like a disgruntled toddler before whining, “Where’s Y/n? Or Hadie? Or Edie? Or Mae? I can’t find Y/n and when I went to look for her, I found all of them gone.”
Nicole chuckles before patting his shoulder lovingly, “They all went out to get Starbucks around thirty minutes ago.”
His head rears back, “What? Why? Why wasn’t I invited?”
Nicole smiles softly before turning around to walk into the kitchen. Oscar follows her closely behind, waiting for her answer, but she takes her time as she cleans dishes from, what he can assume, was her breakfast earlier.
Her hands wet and soapy, she lets her eyes drift to him, “They wanted girl time and Y/n didn’t want to wake you. She knew you were exhausted from the triple-header. She told me if you woke up running around the house and looking for her to tell you they’d be back soon and with coffee for you.”
He softens at that. How well she knows him always melts his heart. The exhaustion from all the races and the sleep he craved, she knew all too well. His coffee order, which he was confident she would get right, was something she had already thought of from the beginning of this escapade. The way she knew he would be slightly panicked, wanting her for their slow morning together, made him feel seen randomly. As she always says, to be loved is to be seen.
Still, he’s a bit disappointed he didn’t get to spend a morning with his sisters and his girlfriend. His mother must see this on his face because she shuts off the water and lays a hand over his.
“You know, it’s okay to feel left out, but you should also know that I’ve never seen any prior girlfriend of yours this close with your sisters. They look up to her and when she started reaching out, asking if they wanted to play games or go out and do something together, their eyes lit up. You’re entitled to want to be with them this morning, but promise me you’ll acknowledge the effort Y/n continuously puts in to bond with the girls you’ve always wanted to protect.” She states softly. Her eyes lock with Oscar’s and she recognizes the understanding in them, the sudden realization. Maybe he hadn’t picked up on how hard Y/n had been trying, but Nicole definitely had. She saw the way Y/n always brought up topics of conversation the sisters could relate to, the way she always listened to their every word, and the way she learned their interests before using those things to bond. Nicole will never forget Mae telling Y/n about a book she had read only for Y/n to come back a week later saying she had read the book and couldn’t wait to talk about it with Mae.
Nobody was really interested in reading in the Piastri family the way Mae was. But, now, there was Y/n.
Oscar nods, “I guess it never really dawned on me how close Y/n was to them, but I see it now. If they’re comfortable enough to be hanging out alone, without me, then I guess they’re further along than I thought.”
“You should’ve heard them leaving this morning. The amount of laughter leaving the door was the cutest. Not to mention the way they joked about having to fear for their life while Y/n drove and Y/n responding about turning into you. The girls have never sounded that excited.” Nicole’s smile is big. Oscar knows it’s because she always wanted a bigger sister the close-in-age sisters could have to guide them. He loves that his mother believes that to be Y/n.
A moment of silence passes before Oscar asks, “How’d this end up happening? I know they didn’t talk about going out this morning last night when Y/n got here. I know because I was with her the majority of the night. Did the girls wake up and ask her? Did they come into our room?”
Nicole shakes her head quickly, “No,” She laughs, “It was Y/n. Y/n set an alarm to wake herself up, I know because I heard it, and then surprised them all by waking them up from their beds and rambling about getting coffee in their pajamas. It was all her. I assume she’d been planning it since yesterday, but just forgot to tell you. When you went to the bathroom last night, she turned to me and asked if the girls had any plans in the morning. When I told her no, she just nodded her head with a smile and turned away.”
Oscar feels as though he could start planning the Y/l/n-Piastri wedding right then and there. To know she’s gone out of her way to get to know his siblings, someone she knows he loves so dearly, gives him confirmation Y/n and him are together for the long haul. Nobody has ever nurtured a relationship with his sisters this heavily before. He falls in love with her more because of it.
Just as he’s about to speak, the front door flies open and roars of laughter flood through. He smiles to himself before turning around to see his girlfriend in the midst of all the sisterly chaos. His eyes land on her first, seeing her looking at Hadie with a smile on her face. He’s not sure what Hadie’s done, but it seems to be the funniest thing she’s ever experienced with the way she’s almost doubled over in laughter. Edie stands next to her, but when some of her coffee spills out and onto the floor, all four girls almost fall to the floor, borderline wheezing. The laughter is infectious and Oscar finds himself joining in. He can only imagine the kind of heart eyes he must be sporting right now.
His steps take him closer to the girls and when Hadie sees him, her face contorts, “Ugh, not you. You’ve come to take her away!”
All his sisters nod as they cross their arms over their chests, mischievous grins on their faces. He only shakes his head, smiling at them too.
“It’s only fair, I’m afraid.” Y/n begins as she walks toward him. He pulls her into him by the waist and she smiles, kissing him on the cheek, before handing him his coffee, his order completely right. “You guys got me all morning and, not to mention, all last week when he was gone. I’ve got to tend to my girlfriend duties now.”
The sisters nod their heads slowly, begrudgingly. Oscar laughs at the fact that they most likely wish he didn’t exist so they could have Y/n all to themselves. Ironically, he adores that.
“You guys hung out all last week?” He asks when Y/n’s previous statement catch up to him.
They look at him as if it’s obvious. “Yeah,” Y/n says as he continues to hold her against him, “Who do you think convinced them to get matching pajamas?”
It’s only then that Oscar clocks the matching sets his girlfriends and sisters are all sharing. His mouth falls open and his cheeks redden. He’s not exactly sure why he blushes, but he thinks it’s because he can’t believe how lucky he’s gotten to have a girl like Y/n fall in love with him.
When all four girls start rambling, at first to him but then to each other, about how much they love their matching pajamas, Oscar feels eyes on him. His head moves to the side and he finds his mother peering her head around the corner to admire the scene in the doorway.
If the way his mother and sisters all look at Y/n tells him anything, it’s that they will not be letting her go for a while. Neither will he, though.
#mclaren#f1 x reader#f1 imagine#f1 fanfic#f1 fic#oscar piasstri#oscar pia#oscar piastri fanfiction#oscar piastri imagines#oscar piastri fanfic#oscar piastri imagine#oscar piastri#oscar piastri fluff#oscar piastri x reader#op81 fluff#op81 imagine#op81 x reader#op81 fic#op81#op81 x you#op81 x y/n
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Multiverse part 3
You sat in a small room on a padded chair, with equipment set up around your arm, chest, and fingertips. A polygraph test. That's what you were being forced to take. And to your chagrin, Ghost is in the room with you and Captain Price.
"Try to relax, yeah?" Price commented. He must've noticed your restless leg.
"I'll do that, shall I? I've done nothing wrong, other than exist and I'm being interrogated. Because that's what this is— an interrogation." You finally turn your attention from Ghost to look at Price, who's sitting at the desk by your side. "Tell me, Captain. Did you get this same treatment when you came back after spending all that time locked up in the gulag?"
His dark eyebrows furrow in confusion. A sigh escapes your bitten lips. That's only in your...world, for lack of a better term. Dimension? Universe?
"I haven't been to the gulag here." Yeah, obviously.
With an impatient wave of the hand that doesn't have cables strapped to it, you mutter, "Let's get on with this circus act, then. Ask your questions."
Ghost steps forward, his arms unfolding as if he's about to speak to you, but Price swiftly intervenes, halting him with a raised hand.
"Alright then. Baseline questions first. Name." Ghost gives away nothing when you say your last name is Riley.
It goes like this for a few, then he switches to the control questions, until finally moving on to the relevant ones.
"How did you get here?" I don't know.
"Do you know why you're here?" No.
He pulls up a photograph. "Recognize him?" Captain MacTavish.
Another photo. "Him?" I don't know.
"What do you mean by that?" If that's Roach, I've never seen his face unmasked.
"You're sure you don't know him?" Unless that man's name is Gary Sanderson, no. I do not know him.
Price acknowledges your response with a nod, then shifts his gaze towards Ghost, whose head slightly tilts forward. Returning his attention to you, he retrieves a final photograph. "What about him?"
As you look at the picture, your eyes begin to well with tears, lip trembling violently. A new fracture reverberated through your tender heart, intensifying the ache in your chest. Yes.
"Who is he?" Price softly asks.
"That's my Simon," your voice broke on the last syllable. It was hard to not use a possessive adjective when the face of your husband was in that picture.
Blinking the tears away, you clear your throat. "Anything else, Captain?"
Price purses his lips under his hefty facial hair and responds, "Just a few more questions."
Once finished, you sat unabashedly staring at Ghost in the tiny room. "I wear Roach's tags alongside yours, in honor. He was with you until the very end, and for that, I couldn't be more grateful."
Ghost is completely silent, but you continue talking anyway. "I've been married to you since a bit after you came home on leave that one time. You know the one."
His eyes are emotionless, blank, as he stares at you. But you know him like the back of your hand. You've got his full attention.
"I accompanied you to your brother's wedding. He married a woman, Beth. She was good for him. They had a baby, your nephew, named Joseph. The love you had for him was one of a kind. I had told you later that evening that I dreamed of the day you'd look at our children like that."
With a shuddery breath, you tell him how none of those matters. Because your husband is dead, and you're stuck here. With his counterpart that hates you.
With a hushed click, the door closes shut behind him as he leaves, yet its resounding noise fills the compact room you're in.
You begin to fidget with the sizeable ring that hangs on a thin necklace beneath your shirt— the metal is warm under your touch as if it had never gone cold in the first place.
As if Simon had never taken it off his finger to go find Makarov.
ah theyre short but hurt. much pain.
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#call of duty#simon ghost riley#simon riley x reader#multiverse cod#09 ghost#22 ghost#cod mw2#cod mwii#cod#simon ghost riley x reader#simon riley x you#simon riley#simon ghost riley x you
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·.⌇ 𝐒𝐘𝐏𝐍𝐎𝐒𝐈𝐒. love; you wonder if the king of curses is capable of feeling that emotion too. so, you take on a more direct approach to ask him.
word count. 1.7k
note. sukuna brainrot sorry. . .
tags. true form!sukuna x female reader. angst (+ comfort) / fluff. size difference mentions. eh sukuna’s a bit mean. established relationship, but you’re like v early into the relationship.
it was a calm sunday evening. both sukuna and you had fulfilled your duties for the day. all you needed after working hard was the presence of the person you admire most. thus, you had made your way over to sukuna’s chambers. to your surprise, you already found him sitting on the engawa which led to the connected backyard.
sukuna noticed your presence, but didn't utter a word. he simply shot you a glance before continuing to stare into the distance. he seemed to be in deep thought about something. you didn’t want to bother him when he was like this, but the voice in your head told you to stay.
you silently kneel next to him and gather your hands in your lap. your eyes automatically move to focus on sukuna again. two of his hands are supporting his weight as they rest flat on the wooden surface. the other set rests limply on his thigh.
your gaze falls on his bottom left hand. the one he uses to kill, but also the one he uses to hold and caress you. you could easily recall its feel without having to touch him; rough, callused and warm. you reach your hand out towards his without hesitation.
sukuna’s eyes dart over to your small stature next to him. he allows you to grab his hand, to pull it over to your lap and let it rest palm up on your thighs. it’s almost funny. how big his hand is in comparison to yours.
the comfortable silence continues. the rustles of the leaves and the water movements in the koi pond in the yard are soothing to the soul. your finger traces the lines on sukuna’s palm, following them until they end before switching to the other.
the king of curses watches you play around with his hand. still with that stoic expression on his face. however, feeling your delicate touch on his skin and seeing you smile to yourself for whatever reason makes the corners of his lips curl up. for a split second.
a faint, amused grin. you sure are an interesting creature in his eyes.
“sukuna, can i ask you something?” you break the silence with a question. there is an unknown feeling in your chest; one that makes you restless at night. your smile slowly drops into a small pout when you think about what you want to ask him.
not a single action goes unnoticed by the man next to you. he lifts an eyebrow, but other than that, there’s no reaction visible. he answers you with a hum of approval, “mmh.”
you lift your head and look up at him. sukuna was already staring right at you—his piercing eyes catch your soft ones. he squints. there is something wrong with the way you are looking at him. normally, the smile you give him would reach your eyes. now it doesn’t.
that same smile completely disappears over time.
“do you.. are you..” you stammer. you don't know how to articulate your question. it’s probably dumb. to both you and him. sukuna watches you struggle to ask him whatever is on your mind. he firmly grabs your wrist and squeezes it. not too hard. he doesn't want to inflict any unneccesary pain.
sukuna sighs. a heavy sigh. one thing he dislikes is when you leave him in the dark. it isn’t the first time you did so during the past week. asking him if you could ask him a question and when he grants you the permission to, you back down or change topics.
it’s getting tiresome.
“spit it out.” sukuna grumbles. he pulls your body closer to his by your wrist, your arm stretched upwards with your hand hovering near the side of his face. his breath hits your wrist, causing goosebumps to form on your skin.
crimson orbs stare right into your soul. you gulp and feel your body warm up. when you try to avert your gaze, one of sukuna's free hands grabs you by the jaw and steers your head to face him. his thumb presses down on your chin. he’s not letting it go today. he needs answers.
before sukuna could add to his words, you breathe in sharply. like you’re ready to ask him what had been weighing on your mind ever since a couple days back. oh, stupid it sure is. you know. you’re probably making it too big of a deal. when it isn’t. not in the slightest.
your eyes water. you blink the tears away. you don’t want to embarrass yourself any further by sobbing. your bottom lip trembles as you finally muster up the courage;
“do you love me?”
there it goes. you try to squirm away from sukuna’s grasp after that. you feel flustered. embarrassed. you just want to crawl into a hole and rot.
sukuna does not tighten his grip on you. instead, he loosens them. your wrist slips from his hand. your chin no longer restricted by his fingers. he lets you go.
a painful sting in your heart. you secretly hoped that he’d resist. pull you closer maybe. you don’t know why you expected that. you learnt not to get your hopes up around him and yet you always wish for him to do something.
a silence falls between the two of you again. you act like you didn’t ask him anything. you try to ignore the way sukuna clenched his jaw. how he subtly clicked his tongue. how he let you shuffle away from him.
you clear your throat. with hesistance this time, you gently grab one of sukuna’s hands again. that he allows you. you appreciate that. at least it means he isn’t completely upset. you know sukuna does not allow just anyone to touch him so without permission.
you hold tightly onto his hand like it’s your last hope. his fingers don’t close around yours, though. you don’t mind.
“what a foolish question.” sukuna scoffs and looks the other way. his voice was hoarse. probably from not speaking for quite what time. you silently nod. an expected answer, at last.
you stay silent after that. it hurts. more than you want it to have hurt. maybe it was too early into your relationship to ask such a question. you got into it, knowing fully well how harsh the man next to you could be sometimes.
what you can’t deny is that soft spot sukuna has for you. you see it. uraume sees it. the maids see it. sukuna probably.. knows of it, but doesn’t speak on it. he does not speak up about his feelings much anyway.
but it’s visible in his actions. the king of curses allows you to say and do whatever you want around him. he makes sure his subordinates treat you well. he looks at you with a hint of softness hidden in those red eyes. when he touches you, it’s firm but gentle. like he desperately craves to touch you, though knows not to make that yearning accidentally hurt you in any way.
the latter is what you love most about his soft spot for you. sukuna handles you with utmost care. even uraume had told you that it surprises them greatly whenever they witness the way their master treats you in general.
especially at night. you can’t count the amount of times you quite literally melted into his arms. those four, beefy arms that know just how to make you feel protected. you never sleep in unease. you know that nothing could hurt you when you’re laying against his chest.
sukuna’s actions speak volumes. despite all of that, you wish he’d at least tell you with his words. how much you mean to him.
“my apologies.” you give up. for today, you’ll let him be. the slight irritation in his voice earlier nearly made you cry. he needs more time and you’ll give him that. you slowly detach your small hand from his big, warm one, “i won’t ask you that again.”
sukuna frowns and grumbles something under his breath. you think it’s still because of your previous question, yet his gaze tells a different story. he narrows his eyes as he glares down at his now empty hand. you connect the dots once you see the man take a glimpse at your hand on your lap.
your touch. the sudden abscence of your touch.
“i didn’t say you could do that.” sukuna murmurs. his tone low and maybe even upset to a certain degree. you blink a few times and freeze on spot. the king of curses starts to get grumpy the longer you fail to take the hint.
he kisses his teeth out of impatience. sukuna tightly gets ahold of your hand again and softly yanks it towards him. you squeal as your body stumbles closer to his.
sukuna holds eye contact with you as he brings your hand to his mouth. his tongue wets a spot on your palm—specifically the area that connects your thumb with your wrist. your lips part, your tummy doing flips from the sudden touch.
“don’t let go again,” he bares his teeth before slightly sinking them into the soft flesh. it isn’t a hard bite. more a nibble that leaves a faint mark. what you didn’t expect was for sukuna to kiss that same place after marking it. his thumb runs over that exact spot as well, “got that?”
you nod. you’re unable to refuse him. those feelings of disappointment from earlier long forgotten. you intertwine your fingers with sukuna’s and unlike the previous instant, his fingers do curl back around yours. your skin is still tingling from the feeling of sukuna’s kiss.
the king of curses keeps your entwined hands on his lap this time. he stares off into the distance for a couple seconds before returning his gaze to you. he scans your face and finds what he had been missing;
that tender smile of yours. it was back, tugging at your lips. one of your fingers resumes its soothing motion on his rough skin again. sukuna’s face relaxes. his jaw unclenches.
“good.” sukuna nods at the sight. he turns to watch the night sky again—secretly (yet not so secretly) enjoying this moment of peace.
you’re content with how that ended. and, you’re sure that you don’t mind if it takes days, weeks or even months for your relationship to fully blossom. when you’re with sukuna, one thing is clear: actions do speak louder than words.
#sttoru writes.#jjk x reader#sukuna x reader#ryomen sukuna x reader#jjk x you#jjk fluff#sukuna fluff#sukuna x you#sukuna x y/n#jjk angst#sukuna angst
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Kitchen counter
Fluff drabble + gn reader
Masterlist
Law almost jumps out of his skin when he spots you drowsy on the kitchen counter, alone in silence underneath the white lights of the submarine, almost like a lucid dream
He approaches you from behind, keeping silent
He towers over you even when sitting down, his eyes wonder on your peaceful face, eyes closed, hand under your chin while the other stays clinging to your cup of tea
You hate tea, you must’ve been desperate, looking for a cure to your sleepless night
He admires you for a while, not noticing he may appear a little bit creepy just staring, but you look just so effortlessly dreamy
“I can feel you staring, Captain” you mutter, your voice soft like a summer breeze, but it shakes Law to his core
He takes a step back and panics, but as your giggles meets his ears, he relaxes, a smirk forming in his lips as he decides to sit beside you
“Sleeping on the kitchen won’t help you rest better” you let out a tired sigh, your head turning to your Captain
When your eyes meet, Law can’t help but wonder if you always look at him the way you’re looking at him now, full of adoration, like he’s the answer to all of your problems
The calmness of the late night allows him to unravel, savoring the moment of your shared presence, bodies tired and souls alight
“I just had a long day”
He knew this. At very early hours of the day, he had heard your loud screaming trough the hallways of the sub, bashing over Satchi and Penguin who had thrown away an important paper you had been working on when they were tasked with cleaning your office
So you had to redo the whole paperwork
Because of this, you were late for dinner and the worst thing imaginable had happened, you didn’t get any dessert
Your favorite part of the day
Suddenly, Law feels a weight on his shoulder, he turns to see your head nuzzled on his side, eyes lost looking at the emptiness of the kitchen. A new feeling forms in his heart, he can feel it reeling going a mile per minute, warmth irradiates from his flushed face, and even though this feeling is new and alien, he likes it
Another silence falls over both, but this one’s different, this one is sweet, homely and welcome, a silence that speaks louder than any words could
Scared, Law allows his head to fall over yours, the way his body fits with yours in prefect harmony makes his heart swell. He closes his eyes and prays for this moment to remain forever, he wants you all to himself like this everyday
After a while, your weight falls slack, he peeks to see you completely asleep. He smiles to himself, a hand traveling to push away the lost strands of hair, showing him a full picture of your beautiful face
Big mistake
Another wave of that same emotion he felt moments ago washes over him, what were you doing to this poor man?
What was he to do now?
Ever so gently, he removes his arm to support your back while the other goes down to your feet so he can pick you up bridal style, keeping you close to his chest. As he walks you to your room, he feels you clenching at his shirt, looking for his warmth
He lets you down light as a feather, but a part of him doesn’t want to let go, a part of him wants to take you away
He peeks at Ikkaku’s bed praying to every god above that she hasn’t woken up, to his delight she is fast asleep without a care in the world. He tucks you in with the outmost care, before he stares at you yet again, burning this moment into his memory
“Good night” he whispers, making his way out to his bed
As he drifts to sleep he wonders if having you by his side every night would help you sleep better
It’ll help him sleep better that’s for sure
#one piece#trafalgar law x y/n#trafalgar law x you#trafalgar law fluff#trafalgar law imagine#trafalgar law one piece#trafalgar d law x reader#trafalgar law x reader#trafalgardwaterlaw#trafalgar law#one piece x y/n#one piece x you#one piece x reader#x reader#law x y/n#law x you#law x reader#x you#x y/n#law fluff#one piece imagine#drabble#one piece drabble
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