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lambilegs · 2 days ago

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I adore your best friend's older sister! Sevika headcanons, literally been rereading since last night 😫

I had a thought, a little crumb, a little ✨food for thought ✨, but what about Best friend's older sister! Sevika getting jealous. Maybe they aren't together yet and she spots reader getting a lil too cozy with another friend. Or maybe they are together and Sevika is not liking the way reader's coworker is gettin a lil too comfy 👀😤

I've truly thought about this too often lol, sorry for the rambles ♡

best friend's older sister!sevika getting jealous <3

note to anon: BAE DON'T APOLOGIZE THIS IDEA IS SOOOO <33 and omg thank you so so much!! I'm so happy you like it hehe. so, I decided to expand upon the first idea you gave because it's so so good, though I LOVE both. like, thank you so much for sending these thoughts AHHH <33

so, I totally agree with you that best friend's older sister!sevika would definitely be possessive. it's only worsened pre-confession because you're not hers yet, so she doesn't feel like she has much of a right to do anything about it. at least if you guys were together, she could wrap her arm around your waist or kiss your head, something silent to signify to others that you're hers.

but, as much as you two have teased and been pushing and pulling these past few months, that's all it's been. push, pull, push, pull. no confession, no asking out, no dates. and, listen, sevika doesn't mind the long game necessarily -- she knew from the get go that if she was gonna be pursuing you, it'd have to be serious. she wasn't about to get into some vague, unidentified shit with her sister's best friend. not only would her sister kill her for that, but it's not even what she's interested in in the first place. it's easy to talk to you, to trust you. it's easy to want something longterm with you. but, longterm means she needs to put in the work of trusting you. and for her, that takes a while. so, she doesn't mind the long game.

what she does mind, though, is that taking things slow means that in this whole getting-to-know-you phase, she doesn't know exactly where your head is at. if you want something serious, if you're ready for a relationship. she knows she should be asking you these questions, but as much as she hates to admit it, it makes her uncomfortable to think of being so honest about these feelings of hers. and what being honest could potentially lead to, like a pierce into your guys' relationship, whatever the hell it is.

but, goddammit, is it fucking hard to not grab you, drag you to her room and show you exactly how she feels when you're on the living room couch, canoodling up to one of the girls in yours and her sister's friend group. she knows how it is for you guys. no boundaries, endless amounts of teasing, flirting, nasty jokes. but, that doesn't make it any easier to see you nuzzling your head into one of their shoulders, the two of you swapping and laughing hysterically over suggestive comments about leaving the room to do some "private activities."

sevika grits her teeth from where she can hear the conversation, gripping the handle to the fridge hard. she sucks in a sharp breath, shakes her head, and grabs her bottle of water from the side shelf. shutting it close quietly, she makes her way to her bedroom, sock-clad feet heavy against the wood.

when she walks past your group, practically cuddled in the living room, she nods quietly at the group of you guys, feeling her shoulders tense up when you and her make eye contact. your head darts off your friend's shoulder, and she nearly snickers. you really aren't subtle when it comes to paying her attention. and today, she doesn't feel like returning it, her stomach clenched in anger over the unabashed flirting she just overheard.

she's in the middle of tinkering at her desk, tweaking some annoying shit that keeps making a scraping noise every few hours, when a knock comes to her room.

"yeah?" she mutters, trying not to throw the screwdriver right at the wall.

when you poke your head in, she glances at your momentarily before continuing her work. she hates how her stomach flips at your arrival, how she suddenly feels clumsy with the tools under your gaze.

"what?"

you start from where you lean on her doorframe. "I just, um, wanted to check if we're good?"

"just peachy," she huffs out, dragging her wrist past her brow, which is sticky with sweat. "why?"

"well, um..." you trail off, shifting on your feet. "you usually smile or say hi now, and right now, you didn't."

she feels a flash of irrational annoyance. she doesn't like the fact that you can read her so easily, as though you have her constantly under a microscope. she doesn't wanna have to deal with her jealousy, her feelings, but you cornering and confronting her like this doesn't make that easy.

"I'm fine."

she blinks hard at the gears when her bedroom door softly clicks shut.

"no, you're not. sevika, come on, what's wrong?" you trot over to her desk, standing right next to her, shoving your presence into her space. "tell me."

she sighs, her body stiff with embarrassment and irritation at your stubbornness. god, things would be so much easier if you weren't so damn feisty, always snapping back at her. but, at the same time, though she'd never tell you, she can't help but like your persistence.

"do you have to be so damn flirty with all your friends?" she bites, immediately regretting the words as soon as they shoot out. so much for subtlety.

your head jerks back. "that's why you're upset? sevika, I've always flirted with them, you know that. I'm sure you've seen your fair share of it for years now."

"yeah, well, now, it's different." she keeps her eyes locked onto the desk, and when she realizes just how thinly veiled the implication of her words are, she rushes to add, "now, I think it's risky shit. you know, someone could get the wrong idea."

you scoff. "it's been like this for years. no one will get the wrong idea."

she rolls her eyes, grumbling incoherent words. she knows you're right. she's made her own fair share of jokes like that with her buddies, even the ones she wouldn't be caught dead with in any lifetime. and you're right, your little gang has always been like this. but, none of that helps to dampen the burning irritation that grows in her stomach when she sees you being so touchy with someone who isn't her. with someone who may think they have a chance with you, no matter how slim. she doesn't want you to have options, she wants to be the only one you see in that way.

"and I don't want you to get the wrong idea, either."

she freezes at the words, her hand stilling.

you inch in closer and your warm palm rests on her shoulder. she feels something stir inside her at the touch, wishing you'd slide the rest of your hand down her arm. you guys have touched briefly, sure, but it's usually fleeting, teasing. this, though? this is tender, and -- it's intimate. you're trying to reassure her, she can tell. she knows it's a nice thing to do, but a part of her cringes at the fact that her feelings were so badly concealed that you even needed to comfort her at all. she should be better than this.

"I don't see anyone in my group like that, okay?" you pause, and the silence between you two thickens. right before it becomes suffocating to the point of sevika forcing herself to respond, you add, your voice quiet and shaky, "trust me, it's not my friends whose attention I want like that. just one other person... who's close by."

her nostrils flare, her breaths feeling tighter than before. are you saying what she thinks you are?

"okay," she manages to get out.

"okay." your hand slips from her shoulder, and she feels the cold of your absence as you turn to leave. without thinking, her hand flies up, catching yours.

your head whips to her in surprise, eyes wide and curious.

she thumbs at your pulse point, some of her confidence regaining through feeling how it spikes. but, still, there's an undercurrent of discomfort, so she tries to steady her voice before saying, "you know, I have a pretty good shoulder too."

you laugh, ducking your head down. sevika tries not to pull you in closer, coax you to look at her when she talks. "yes, I'm sure you do," you respond, a sarcastic lilt to your voice.

"well, obviously. you're always checking me out when I work out."

you splutter, eyebrows scrunched indignantly. "well, that's because you insist on working out in front of us always! for all I know, maybe you're the one who's into someone in our group."

your voice is mocking, but sevika hears the tremors of it towards the end. are you nervous that she maybe is into someone else but you? or are you hopeful it's you?

you gave her a bit of assurance, so she might as well return the favour.

"maybe there is someone I'm trying to impress. someone who'd maybe notice that more if they weren't always shoving their face in other people's chests."

she can see how your eyes bulge at the semi-confession, your palm slick with sweat in her hand. your mouth flaps open for a few seconds, before shakily saying, "well, you did offer yourself up as a substitute."

her cheeks ache with how hard she's trying not to grin too widely. "don't get too excited."

you wring your hand from her grip, smiling coyly as you reach for her doorknob. "I'll try to contain myself."

#WROTE THIS IN A RUSH BC I'M HEADING OUT SOON BUT I HOPE YOU GUYS ENJOY HEHE #not proofread I'm sorryyyy #s.writing #sevika #sevika x reader #sevika x you #arcane x you

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entitled-fangirl · 21 hours ago

Text

How to liven a marriage.

Cregan Stark x wife!reader

SMUT SMUT SMUT SO MUCH SMUT

Summary: Cregan and the reader's marriage is dull, purely for duty. When the reader finds a book in the Winterfell library depicting just how pleasureful a man and wife's sex life can be, she takes it upon herself to introduce such a thing.

Warnings: p in v, fingering, making out, washing bruises (from a battle), riding, studying the scientific parts of a vagina, foreplay, etc

A/n: based on a reallllly good ask. I think this is my longest fic and I have no regrets. Except that I haven't proofread it yet. That's a later problem.

Masterlist

.......................................................

She felt her stomach drop to her feet when she saw the drawings in the book. Her cheeks became a flushed red, completely embarrassed to have stumbled on something so… private. She shut the book with a thud and cringed at the loud sound that echoed in the library.

She heaved the book back onto the shelf and brushed off her skirt, as if trying to completely brush off the experience itself.

Once she had pulled herself together, she decided she'd had enough of the library. Enough scavenging and prodding at the books. Especially one like that.

Be even so, she felt herself stop halfway to the door.

She was a married woman. The act of sex itself is no crime to a married woman. Nor studying various positions of it.

It felt dirty to do so. Very wrong. Like her old Septa would appear and scold her ardently over it.

But her Septa wasn't there.

No one was there.

Just her and the book.

…

Cregan was sure to arrive within the fortnight.

She wished to be happy about all of it. The return of her husband was good. It had been a tough few weeks to rule without him. After all, she was still new to the North.

But she couldn't find it in her.

Cregan was harsh and cold. Never happy, never caring. Duty and honor. How the words were stamped across their foreheads.

They had married out of duty, and that is all they had of one another. They were awkward and lacked the eagerness to spend time with one another.

She had heard stories of great marriages of love that whisked away all problems and only left a man, a wife, and their love. That was not this marriage.

So the return of Cregan meant the return of a duty that she had started to dislike: Their attempts to conceive. She knew once she gave him a few sons, they would be rid of the need to conceive, but that day was far away.

And Cregan surely drew closer to Winterfell.

…

Perhaps the book- Forget about the book, she told herself. A proud man like him would never agree to look at such a thing.

Her fingers grazed over one of the drawings as she read the contents next to it. It was confusing to try and follow such a strange topic, but still she tried.

Women may experience intense pleasure of their own. It is most easy to start at the clitoris. It is located above the vaginal opening. A gentle circled rubbed at the area w

"What are you reading, my lady?"

She slammed the book shut with a thud and a gasp, her head snapping to the side to see Winterfell's maester standing with a curious expression. She held a hand over her chest. "Do not sneak up on a woman."

"Forgive me, my lady. I thought myself being rather loud in my steps." He gave her a chuckle. "It seems I was wrong."

Her shock was turning to embarrassment as she tried to slide the book further behind her back on the table that she leaned again. "You're forgiven, just go."

"Ah, I've come for a reason," he countered. "News of Lord Stark's return is at hand. He should be here by sunset tomorrow, gods willing."

She nodded, trying desperately to get him back out. "Right. How fortunate. Thank you. You may go."

"My lady, if I may," he continued. "You look rather flushed. Are you feeling ill?"

"NO!" She cringed at her outburst. "No, I'm quite well, thank you."

The maester gave her a strange look. He clearly didn't believe her, but he wasn't going to push it. "Right. If you need anything, only say the word." He dipped his head and hurried off, closing the door behind him.

Her entire body relaxed at his leaving. She ran a hand over her face in an attempt to physically remove the heat from her cheeks.

She had been so close to getting caught with this.

Too close.

When she was sure there weren't footsteps in the corridor, she turned back, opening the book once more and reading further.

It gave her an idea.

She grabbed the book, carrying it to Cregan's desk and setting the heavy thing down. Her fingers sprawled over the page once again, careful to not continue the tear that went down the side. She slowly sat down as she continued to read.

A gentle circled rubbed at the area will increase pleasure during the act of sex.

She looked over her shoulder to check one last time before her hands began to bring her skirt up. The fabric was quickly pooled around her stomach and her legs were exposed. Her right hand shook as it brushed the small piece of fabric still guarding her most intimate parts from the cold air.

But the most important part of a female's genitalia to understand is the vagina. Located between the clitoris and the anus lies the vagina. Though different in looks, all women's perform quite alike.

Her breath caught as she gained her last bit of bravery, and her fingers pushed the fabric to the side. The cold air made her hiss, as did the coldness to her fingertips.

The labia majora protects the vagina from foreign particles, the labia minora after that.

Her fingers explore the very area, the cold digits skimping past the skin until she knew her middle finger grazed the inside of her vagina.

She should have known the territory well. It was her own body and still she found herself unsure of where everything laid.

And above all else, she felt filthy for it. This was for her husband, not her own gain. Her own pleasure has nothing to do with making an heir. But she wouldn't stop now.

Her eyes grazed over the page again as she pushed her middle finger deep inside her. It caught once or twice, the lack of moisture causing a small discomfort. But once her second knuckle disappeared into her, she recalled the feeling.

She remembered this now: the feeling of something inside of her. Though, this was one finger and nowhere near as intruding as her husband's cock. And only then did she begin to understand how a man could fall apart from this feeling. Her walls seemed to not want her finger to part from her. She pumped it in and out a few times before daring to turn the page with her left hand.

…

Cregan returned as promised, with the sun beginning to set behind him- though it was covered with the thick clouds of the North.

Standing on the stairs to the castle was his wife. He had long awaited to return home. To continue his duties to her? No. But home meant warmth and small comforts and he would take that every day he could.

He dismounted his horse and took slow steps to her. He forced a small smile, more for the sake of everyone else than the two of them. "My lady."

She gave a polite nod of her head when he grew close. "You've returned safely."

"I have." His gaze wandered around the area in an attempt to ease the awkwardness.

"I… I've missed you," she muttered.

His eyes looked to her and his brows pulled together. "Have you?"

"Well…" She looked down at her shoes. Was that even true? She didn't miss him. Not really. Well, she did in a way. Waiting to talk about the book. "Well, I found myself wanting to be with you as soon as I could." She swallowed and looked up at him. "Would that be considered missing you?"

" 'Being with me,' " he repeated as he thought it over. He squinted in contemplation before trying to clarify. "As in speaking with me or… other things?"

Her face flushed and her eyes looked right back down to the ground.

He sighed and placed his hands on his hips. His tongue ran along his teeth before clicking as he came to a conclusion in his mind. "An hour. My chambers."

It was a soft command. He never ordered her around. And if she chose to voice an opinion ever, she knew he'd consider it. He was a forceful man, but not like that.

But when she made no motion against it, he chuckled. One of his hands came up to her chin and tilted her head up to meet his gaze. "An hour. I'll even wash for you first." He pressed an emotionless kiss to her lips and stepped away, grabbing his horse's reins and beginning to speak to one of the other men.

An hour. That felt like too long to sit with her thoughts. But she'd manage. Somehow.

…

An hour later, she opened the door with her heart beating wildly.

But upon seeing what laid inside, it died down.

Cregan laid in the large copper tub, his head laid back against the rim as he bathed: fast asleep.

She leaned on the door and studied him for a while. How easily the rough man became just as soft as anyone else. He seemed… at peace for once. That large crease that always laid between his brows was gone as he softly snored.

It's hard to make an heir like this. But he'd journeyed so far, and something like sex seemed dumb when he needed rest this badly.

She stepped in and closed the door behind her, careful not to make a heavy sound. Her steps were quiet and careful, quickly guiding her to him and now she kneeled at his side.

Her fingers dipped into the water. It was beginning to grow cold.

And judging by the light pruning of his fingers, he'd been there for a while.

Cregan often took his baths alone. He always refused the help of servants, even his wife, rather wishing to have this as his alone time.

She grabbed the cloth that lay over the side- unused, judging by its dryness, and dipped it in, beginning to lightly trail it over his chest.

She took the time to study every scar across him. There were many and she had no doubt that he'd won each battle they belonged to. She had seen him sparring- she knew how formidable she was with a sword in his hand.

The water ran down his chest and dripped into the tub again. The sounds echoed in his room. Each seemed loud compared to the utter silence of the air.

She moved to the other side of the tub and cleaned him, now noticing the deep cut on his shoulder. Deep purple and green bruising laid around it. It looked quite painful. When she ran the cloth over it, he hissed and his eyes finally opened.

He took in the room, a sharp gaze that would make most men fearful. Once they set on her and he completely came to, they softened slightly. She saw the way they flickered from her eyes to the cloth in her hand. She waited for him to inevitably shoo her from the room.

"Has it been an hour?" He quietly asked. "I apologize. How rude of me." He pulled the rag from her hand. "And I've made you feel as if you have to clean me to make up for time lost that I now owe you. Well, sit and I will hurriedly finish, wife."

His words and movements caught her off guard. She was unsure what to say.

"Go on," he motioned with a hand. "Sit and wait for me. Like you so patiently have."

"No," she finally countered. "Y- your shoulder. It looks painful. Let me."

Her hand grabbed for the rag, brushing his. The two seemingly froze in the moment. Cregan's deep eyes stared up at hers, as if taking her in for the first time. Finally, he shook his head. "It won't take long."

"I know. So, let me," she argued again.

He looked down to their hands, their fingers touching just barely. Slowly, his grip loosened and she was able to slip the cloth from him.

Silently, she took the acceptance and began to wash him again. She took extra care around the bruises now. When the cloth ran over them, the fingers of her other hand followed and paused. "Does it hurt?" She softly asked.

Cregan's eyes were glued to the water now, his fingers dipping in and out and watching the droplets fall back into the tub. "They always do."

"It didn't go well, I take it?"

He held water in his palm, cupped carefully as he studied it. "It went very well."

"This is very well?"

He tilted his hand and let the water escape down his arm with a sigh. His head tilted and he finally looked at her with a firm gaze. "The Wall is harsh. Even on its best days."

Having him stare at her so deeply made her chest flutter and she suddenly imagined how he might look at her while doing things from the book in the library.

She dared a thought, bringing a hand up to his cheek. He watched her carefully. To think that she did this of affection was a ridiculous one. He must have something on his face.

But when her palm rested there, on his cheek, he began to think differently. It brought a strange feeling to his stomach.

Her hand rested there for a while and the two were unmoving. But when she brushed her thumb over his cheekbone, he pulled his head away.

Her fingers pulled to her palm as she accepted the rejection and blinked away all thoughts. "Lean forward," she gently commanded.

He raised no fuss, pulling himself forward with a small groan. No doubt his muscles protested with each movement.

She focused now, trying to ignore the way the muscles in his back flexed and contracted each time he moved.

The cloth ran across his back and few times, and he eventually sighed at the feeling. Her hand somehow applied just enough pressure to his aching back. And when she noticed and focused just above his shoulder blades, he let out an audible groan.

"Tense, Lord Stark?" She almost teased.

He didn't catch the teasing part though, too relaxed in this state. He only nodded and prayed that she'd continue.

She abandoned the cloth and began to fully massage his shoulders with her hands. It put the powerful man in a relaxed trance, and not one he cared to come out of anytime soon.

"I've been thinking," she spoke. "Well, do you think that… " she hesitated. "That maybe… maybe there's more to conceiving a child than… what we've been doing?"

There was a silence. It was suffocating and she was sure that she'd said the wrong thing. She would have swore he hadn't heard her, but the sudden tension in his back said so.

Finally, his head turned just a bit, revealing half of his face to her and he barely looked over his shoulder. "I think," he drew out, "you've been reading."

Oh. So he knew of the book.

She pulled away, as if burned and began to wring her hands as her nerves took over. "It was there… and… And I only thought… maybe-"

He laid back again the tub again to look at her. "Is that something you want?" He calmly asked.

Her mouth went dry as she tried to speak an answer.

"Wife," he voiced a little sharper. "I asked you a question."

She forced herself to take a deep breath. "Yes."

The corner of his lips tugged up and leaned his head back against the rim as before, closing his eyes. "So be it."

"W-" she stopped herself before creating any problems she didn't need. He'd agreed, and that was that.

With her confused presence, he opened his eyes and lulled his head to the side. "I'll apologize again for taking our time." His hand came out of the water to her, mimicking the way she had cupped his cheek early. "But after the feast?" His thumb ran over her lips, catching and pulling down her bottom lip. "You are mine to have."

…

She remembered something in the book about this. Foreplay, she recalled. Like dangling a bone in front of a dog and seeing the way it would drool in anticipation.

Like quick glances, small touches, things that would signal to a partner that you wished to engage in sexual activities.

Doing such things during a feast felt scandalous. But it filled her heart with a fire that she knew was traveling between her legs as well.

She had started it, brushing her hand with his as they ate. Then wiped at a bit of wine that had dripped down his chin. Then even daring to brush a hand across this thigh.

But that was earlier. Now, across the room from each other, she took other tactics.

When she wasn't looking at whoever she spoke to, she looked at Cregan. Her eyes would wander from his face to his feet, a long gaze that took its time, and enjoyed every moment of it. And he was quick to notice it. When she was caught and his eyes were on her, she quickly looked away in mock embarrassment.

It worked wonderfully.

The rest of the evening, she felt his eyes on her and when she'd look back, he'd have a look that said he was ready to devore her whole. She felt her core almost drip with the adrenaline rushing through her.

Now, to act on it.

She caught his gaze again, keeping it and taking slow steps to the high table, hoping he'd get the hint to follow her.

And perceptive he was.

She stood in front of her chair and reached down to her cup when his chest warmed her back. His hand reached over hers and seized her chalice as his voice spoke lowly in her ear. "Bid them goodnight. We are retiring."

She craned her neck to try to look at him. "We are the hosts-"

"-two minutes, and I'll carry you myself if I must."

His warmth disappeared, and he set her cup back down to the table.

A wide grin came to her lips.

…

The moment the door to his chamber closed, he pushed her against the wall. His lips chased her with a heat like she was the air he needed to breathe. His hands pulled at the fabric on her shoulders, so eager to undress and ravish her.

Her hands did the same, pulling at the strings of her doublet. But it was hard to do so through Cregan's heavy hands tugging her this way and that.

Soon enough, cold air rose goosebumps across her skin. Cregan paused, only for a moment, letting his eyes wander over her. And for the first time, lust was evident in his pupils.

His lips consumed hers once more, his tongue delving past her teeth to hurriedly explore. His hands and hers both pulled at his clothes.

With his chest bare, he deemed that enough for now. He picked her up and took her to the bed, dropping them both to it and holding himself above her with one hand. His lips moved to her neck now, sucking at the skin. And her small hitch of breath encouraged him.

Soon he pulled away and stood at the foot of the bed, pulling down his trousers and throwing off his boots. His eyes never strayed from her body. How beautiful she was. Now he really noticed.

His hands found her ankles. He pulled her down to the edge of the bed.

She began to notice how he'd began to go back into their routine from before.

He stepped between her legs and propped her hips up a bit, lining his cock with her cunt and beginning to force his way in.

Her jaw clenched and her nose inhaled sharply. She was never used to that first push.

Her mind wandered to the night before with the book. She had went on to get three fingers in and without pain. She knew it was possible to avoid this if they went slowly. And the pleasure she had felt yesterday was inexplainable.

"Cr-Cregan," she panted out.

His eyes snapped up to hers. They never spoke during this. There was never anything to talk about.

"I want to… to do it differently," she managed out.

He pulled out from her, holding her legs steady as he gave her a questioning gaze. "What did you read in that thing?" He finally asked.

"I want… I want to be… above," she tried to explain. "You lay down and I… I will do the work."

He was hesitant, understandably so, but he was hard enough now that he didn't quite care how it happened. He just needed a release.

So he laid himself on the bed, his eyes almost bulging out with the way she straddled him so confidently.

She brushed against his manhood, and he couldn't take it anymore. His hands gripped her hips tightly as he tried to take back control. But her own hands pulled his away. She gave him a look that warned him to let her try it.

She sunk down onto him this time. The pressure was there, but it was different. More bearable this time. And at her own pace, she took her time to adjust to him until his pelvis met hers.

Cregan's eyes were closed in bliss, and she took that as a sign to continue. She pulled her hips up and sunk back down, and a whine left her mouth without realizing it. It felt… good. Sex with Cregan felt good.

His hands trailed back up to her hips, more gentle this time. He guided her hips in a back and forth motion and a sinful moan escaped from him.

She continued it as he wanted, leaning down to brace herself on his chest. With this new motion, she could find a little pressure to her clit, and it brought a whole new wave of pleasure.

The motions quickened as the two began to explore the idea that maybe… just maybe… they liked this.

If their moans had any indication.

She felt a tightening in her lower stomach, something she remembered from yesterday. She wondered if Cregan could feel it from inside.

And he could. It created a resistance that had him almost drooling with how well it felt. How good she made him feel.

"Let me fill you," he voiced in a beg. It hadn't intended to come out that way, but it did. Cregan was begging.

"I w~" the words caught in her throat. "I want you to fill me," she managed. "Give me a child, Cre~"

The words died altogether on her lips as her orgasm washed over her. The one from her fingers yesterday was nothing compared to this. She felt it throughout her body like spring that had finally snapped.

Cregan's eyes were open and wide at the feeling of her cunt around him now, spasming with the aftermath of her orgasm. It felt amazing, and he had cursed himself for never discovering it before.

And now that he had, he wouldn't forget it.

Her cunt milked him for all he had, and he happily gave it to her, releasing himself with a heavy groan.

The two slumped on the bed, Cregan's arms wrapped around his wife's frame. Neither were eager to move from their positions, not even as he softened inside of her or the liquid ran down her thighs.

Before, Cregan had held her up and made her keep it in.

Now? He didn't care. He could always just fill her again.

He'd do anything to see the way her jaw dropped and her eyes glazed over again.

"Thank you," she breathed against his neck.

There was a comfortable silence from him. Then finally, "I'll have that book read within the fortnight."

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#fanfiction #cregan stark x reader #cregan stark x you #house of the dragon fanfiction #game of thrones fanfiction #game of thrones x y/n #cregan stark x y/n #game of thrones imagine #game of thrones x reader #cregan stark imagine #cregan stark #cregan x reader #cregan stark smut #cregan stark fanfic #hotd cregan #house of the dragon imagines #house of the dragon fic #house of the dragon fanfic

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quarterlifekitty · 3 days ago

Note

heyyy

can I ask for a part 2 on fuckboy soap?

i want to know more about what happens with reader and simon

in my head, Simon HATES seeing Johnny treat the reader that way. i can envision Simon taking her out, treating her right and all but stealing away Johnny's toy.

So, I posted a part 2, but I have these asks about it and I’d hate for them to go to waste— so I thought I’ll do a little bit of expansion on the relationship. Some shite exposition.

Uhhhh I’m back from writing this now and I didn’t mean to do this but I kind of made this like a prequel or like a part 1.5 I didn’t mean to make it so long oops

Promethean: how to starve a beast

Simon does not involve himself, in any way, in the nasty hookup miasma that Soap is a part of. That most of the frat is a part of, honestly. Motherfucker doesn’t party. This man is on financial aid and has a part time job. He is studying because he’s the one paying for his schooling and for his living expenses.

He doesn’t care that Johnny fucks people under less than savory pretenses. People get played by him? Better they learn their lesson with some harmless douche with a mohawk than with someone who will actually do some damage. Ultimately, not his business. He’s seen plenty of people come and go across the hall, and he’s not fussed.

He doesn’t respond to the conquest stories from the other guys when they’re sharing takeout, or the occasional ‘family’ dinner. Really, the only reaction he gives, even internally, is when one of them comments on something some girl did that was gross, or something about them that wasn’t hot.

A complaint that her period started when she stayed the night. I’d like to fuck a girl while she’s on the rag. Bet it’s fucking warm and slick.

A complaint that she had cellulite. Way to out yourself as being a porn addict, mate.

A complaint that her nails dug too hard into his skin. I’d love for a girl to make me bleed when I fuck her.

He didn’t feel any sympathy. Just accumulated little, harmless fantasies.

Until Johnny started talking about you.

Simon didn’t know you. Had never met you. Seen you once or twice, maybe. Hadn’t learned to even recognize your face.

“Kept leanin’, think she wanted me t’kiss her.”

“So fockin’ bad at giving head. S’a bit cute, tae be honest.”

“Tried tae make a grab for my hand the other night. Can ye believe it? Tryin’ tae hold my hand while ah’m givin’ it tae her. Daft thing still doesnae get it.”

Then he starts to notice you when you leave Soap’s room. The way you very gently close his door as if you’re worried about bothering him. The way you pause, like there’s something you want to say, before you move on. The deep breath. The odd sniffle.

And then, when you show up. Yanked inside without so much as a kind word.

Simon has to strain and get close to the door if he wants to hear you. Soap’s loud as all fuck, but from what one can hear from the hall, he may as well be in there alone.

It’s like there’s an electric coil in his belly. Every time there’s something to do with you, the dial ticks over a notch. The current heats the metal. Every time Soap brags about what he’s done to you. Every time he sees you shake when you walk down the hall and out of the house. Every time Soap brags about what you, the stupid little thing he keeps for a fuckpet, really wants—

The coil is red hot. Even if he could figure out how to turn off the burner, the heat would stay. The metal would be hot to the touch. The heat radiates the very air in front of him, like a mirage. He thinks of you when you’re not even in the house. When no one’s talking about you. You’re a parasite that’s squirmed deep into his gut and you can’t be removed without pulling his organs out with you.

He feels like he’s gone mad. How can no one else see it the way he does? How can Johnny not see how privileged he is to have you even look at him? How can he not want the perfect devotion you’re so keen to give him? How can you not know that any man would thank god for your returned affection, if you’d only set your sights on one that wasn’t a complete and total fuckhead? How has no jealous classmate or longtime friend come by and set Johnny’s nose bloody and crooked for how he’s treated you, sensitive and dangerously endearing as you are?

Every time Johnny talked about you, he had no idea that it was another rusted staple under his best mate’s skin. Building your mythology. Making you a prize. No, that wasn’t right.

Making you seem utterly wasted. Shackled yourself to a mutt with no sense for what he had writhing and submissive beneath him.

Soap has the perfect thing, the finest yield of flesh, right between his teeth and he won’t bite down.

Content for you to rot in his maw.

Well, Simon isn’t.

#writing #cod fanfic #cod #simon ghost riley #simon ghost riley x reader #simon riley x you #simon ghost x reader #john soap mactavish #ghost x reader #college au #Promethean

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valalice · 1 day ago

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omg can we please get Christmas/holidays headcanons with older gf caitlyn as someone who never got anything growing up ☹️ because parents are YUCKYY and Caitlyn only just now finds out about it and is like "oh so thats a reason as to why youre still so reluctant to accept my gifts and stuff" and she comforts the us so much and SPOILS US ☹️☹️🙏 (also if you can include pet names where she's always saying 'my' like 'my sweet girl' 'my princess' 'my love/darling' 'my pretty girl' 'my girl' 'my babydoll' etc stuff like that 🙏 then that would be great THANK YOU)

❅ IS IT NEW YEARS YET ? ft. 𝓬𝓪𝓲𝓽𝓵𝔂𝓷 𝓴𝓲𝓻𝓪𝓶𝓶𝓪𝓷.

�� summary. your older girlfriend asks you to spend your first christmas together. of course you excitedly accept, trying to push ignore that you'd have to break this news to your parents.

warnings. fluff. slight angst. fem!reader. older girlfriend!caitlyn. reader is in college. age gap (10 years or more). no use of y/n. modern au. hurt and comfort. pet names. caitlyn is nervy teehee. reading is a tease. insecure!reader a little bit. readers parents are the best. not proofread. wc. 2.2k

a/n. thank you for your request alaina pie <3 this was so cute (and sad) to write for, especially during the holidays! hopefully this is what you envisioned and i tried to incorporate "my (nickname)" as naturally as possible. remember to support your writers by reblogging & commenting !

m.list. | arcane m.list.

‣ caitlyn wasn't oblivious to the way the pair of arms slung around her waist would tighten whenever you thought she’d be the be first to let go. or how you always pressed your face further into her chest, an ear aligned to where her heartbeats for you, as if you’re trying to encode the rhythm into your memory. and the most heartbreaking, how when you finally release her from the hug and meet her gaze there’s tears daring to spill from your waterline, eyes glazed over and a forced upturned smile to show that you’re fine. she knew that you were going home to see your family for the holidays, that it would be a joyous thing, something that you’re bouncing off the walls for, you rarely see your family much since moving out permanently. but the wreck you become when you go home startles her, and she knows it’s far more than you missing her for a few weeks.

‣ not much can set caitlyn on edge, but the nerves of asking if you’d like to spend christmas with her, just her, no parent, certainly sets her off.

clicks and clanks fill the room mixing with the content of the two of you enjoying yet another home cooked meal made by caitlyn. you’d just resumed classes from fall break when she called you asking for dinner and a weekend together, you agreed, of course.

looking from across the dining table cait’s brows are furrowed as she pushes the remanence of her food back and forth on her plate. she’s clear in deep thought and has been quiet for most of the evening which is unlike her. the stoic stature she puts on for work quickly fades away the moment her eyes land on you and she becomes the familiar chatter bug you know and love.

your clothed foot searches for hers underneath the table, and when it does you bump into it, your foot tickling up her ankle. upon this intrusion cait’s attention focuses on you, her eyebrows lifting and a small smile forming on her face, her eyes lifting from her plate, the foot you attacked fights back.

“you're quiet tonight.” you begin.

“i've been meaning to ask you something.”

oh. straight to the point.

as if cait could sense your panic, her foot stops wrestling with yours, instead laying it to rest against yours in hope you would stop too. “it’s nothing bad, i promise,” she rushes. “i maybe shouldn't have worded it bluntly.” grimacing at the worry she enacted in you.

“you think? nearly gave me a heart attack.” your wild thoughts nearly get the best of you.

“it's just,” cait pauses, gathering her thoughts. “it's a huge step in our relationship.”

“we've already had sex, cait.” you joke, and caitlyn chokes on her spit at the shock of your dirty words. reaching out and takes a brief swig of water, her eyes narrow towards you. “‘m just playing with you. couldn't help myself.” you're once stilled foot becomes alive again, soothing up cait’s ankle to about mid calf before going back down and repeating the action.

she hums, setting her glass down. “such a dirty mind of yours.”

“and whose fault is that?” you argue. caitlyn corks an eyebrow up, challenging you at the next words to fall from your mouth. “you've created a crazed monster.” she couldn’t deny the sense of pride swirling throughout her chest at your words.

“minx.” she mutters, her lips twitch upward. it’s such a minuscule movement, blind to the normal eye, but apparent enough for you to catch.

for the first time in a hot minute you place your feet flat on the ground, placing your hands to the edge of the table, the screech of the chair against the wooden floors fills the room.

standing up and making your way towards caitlyn, around the corner of the table. satisfied when you spot that cait had already made space for you. when you're in reach a hand curls around your waist to pull you into her lap, much like how an owner pulls their cat to lay within their lap. slinging an arm around cait’s shoulder to the back of the chair, while your other hands rest on the back of her neck, her dark navy hair pulled into a ponytail so you're able to toy with the wisp of her baby hairs at the nape of her neck.

“did i ruin the mood?” you pout, a tinge of nervousness bubbling up once again that you had taken away caitlyn’s moment to be vulnerable.

“god, no. you've made the atmosphere lighter, darling.” she assures, giving your waist a small squeeze and flashing a tight lipped smile. there’s a glint behind her eyes that makes you doubt her words.

“for what you were going to ask me?”

caitlyn hums, her gaze flicking down to the hem of your sweater, taking the soft material between her perfectly manicured fingers, coming between her thumb and index finger to rub at the hem. “what i wanted to ask was if you’d be interested in spending christmas together,” bringing her full attention back up to your face, the glint now masked by the softness of her eyes. “just the two of us.”

you stare at your girlfriend with wide starstruck eyes, this is definitely—no doubt—a big step for your guys’ relationship. the only holidays you and caitlyn have spent together is, well, valentine’s day, and the cringey other dates throughout the year like national girlfriend day, dates that caitlyn hadn't known about before you. “just the two of us?” you grin.

“is that okay?” she mistakes your grin as a teasing grin, and although it slightly is one, it's a toothy grin that shows off your whites, pushing up your face and makes your cheeks hurt, in a good way.

“it's more than okay, i’d love to.”

now there’s a grin that mirrors your own, flashing you the tooth gap that you adore. her fingers release the hem of your sweater, sneaking underneath the material pulling you flesh against her. lips meeting into a tender needy kiss.

when you pull away, you rest your forehead on hers. “that’s what you were so nervous about?” you ask, corking your head to the side, amused at how nervous she was to ask you to spend your first big holiday together. finding her too cute.

“was scared you were going to say no.” she confesses, you kiss her again.

“i could never say no to you.” it's the truth, but there's a little looming thought forming over the top of your head; you'd have to figure out a way to break the news to your parents.

‣ that weekend you and caitlyn had decorated her house, pulling the boxes from out of the dark space within her house to settle them in the living room. putting on the charlie brown christmas album to add to the ambiance as the two of you get into the holiday spirit. fluffing out the pined branches of the false tree, the endeavor of adorning the green of the tree with the various decorations of lights, tinsel, and ornaments begin. when it's deemed almost perfect, caitlyn hands firmly grip onto your waist to help you balance yourself on a chair as you place the simply stunning gold star on top to finish the tree. when the sun sets and the moon illuminates the sky you yank caitlyn to the tree polaroid camera in hand, falling into natural position with each other; one picture smiling at the camera, snap! and another kissing as the lights wrapped around the tree create hazy glowing halos on top of your heads, snap!

‣ it seemed as though each time you visited caitlyn’s home the presents beneath the tree kept growing, all wrapped neat and crisp with little tags signaling that they're from cait herself. they made the small pile of presents dedicated to her from you look puny. she self admittedly spoils you often, it's one of her love languages; gift giving. she enjoys being the person who splurges on you, who gives into any little item you desire. in her eyes she's making up on all the times you decided not to get something, and with the amount of money she has in her bank account and all the charity and donations she does, she could get rid of some of the money rotting away, and who else better to spend it on than you? as much as she enjoys it, and as much as you're grateful for it all it's still something that's hard to digest. that someone is willingly spending their money on items and gifts for you, not out of circumstance or special occasion (although you guess christmas is a special occasion) but out of self want and love for you. it’s the side of a coin you've never seen before, coming from a family who was never as well off as the kiramman’s and being a child, and now an adult who still makes up the lavish gifts you can't afford with handcrafted gifts.

‣ you were running away, trying to escape the countdown to christmas day that was becoming shorter and shorter. still yet to inform your parents that you won't be home for christmas, dodging the question “what day will you be coming home?” whenever it’s brought up by either of them. even avoiding it whenever caitlyn asks how your parents took the news “uh, they don't know yet.”

well now they know. you hadn't planned on telling them today, you hadn't even planned on a day to tell them to be truthful. and now as you're curled up against caitlyn you're anything but focused on the movie that was put on.

“now you're the one being quiet.” caitlyn pipes out, recalling a few weeks ago to when you called her out on the same thing.

“my parents called before i came over,” your words prompt caitlyn to reach for the remote, clicking a button and pausing the movie. “i told them that i won't be home for christmas, or well they worked it out of me.”

from beside you cait sits up, disrupting your slumped figure to also sit up. “how’d they take it?”

“not well.” your response is short and to the point, and ‘not well’ is honestly the best way you could've said that they completely and utterly flipped out on you. eyes wandering around the room and passed caitlyn’s head to avoid making any form of eye contact with her. you already didn't cry on the phone with your parents; too used to their treatment, and you weren't going to break down now in front of your girlfriend.

however, caitlyn’s cerulean eyes bored into your avoidant form. “look at me, my darling.” her mellow tone contrast the brashness of your parents, the difference alone makes tears prickle along your waterline. swiftly tucking your head over your shoulder, shielding yourself from caitlyn’s gaze, knowing that if you dared to look at her, tears would come pouring down your cheeks in thick streams.

“darling,” a cool hand raising to caress at your warm cheek, trying to get you to unveil yourself to her. “look at me, please.” shutting your eyes you let the hand on your cheek move your face for you, not strong enough to do it yourself. it's quiet at this point, and you know now that you're “looking” at caitlyn, or well caitlyn is looking at you; feeling defeated at the quickness of your strong facade washing away, tears wetting your cheeks.

“open your eyes, love.”

“i didn't think they'd be that upset.” you sigh, letting the words fall from your mouth, still keeping your eyes shut tight.

“oh, darling—”

you cut cait off. “please. don't pitty me, cait.” a moment of silence passes and you open your eyes, being met with caitlyn’s. she wants to speak up, wants to console you, but she knows you need to get it out of your system. “there's no use for my tears over them. they’ve always been the same and will stay the same, it's been that way for years. don't even know why they're so upset over me not coming home, i’ll just end up being ignored anyway.” you explained, feeling your walls being built back up as you become defensive over the topic of your parents and their not—so—nurturing nature towards you.

there's a beat before caitlyn fully gathers what she wants to say. “i’m not pitying you, darling. you’ve never spoken of your parents behavior towards you before, but i've noticed how you mood dulls whenever you go home. it's clear that being around your family drains you while they don't even give you a second thought. it's not fair to you.”

the hand on your cheek remained, sliding down the column of your neck to rest, her thumb rubbing at your jaw, her other hand coming up to the same position and matching the action of the other. the sincerity of her words cause even more hot tears to rush down from your eyes. “you deserve the utmost respect and love.”

it eats you alive, but you must ask, hanging your head low. “you really think that?” tone hushed and meek.

“respect and love?” she questions, her own tone matching yours because just as much as you're intuned with her she's intuned with you and what you need. watching as your head reluctantly nods. and once again she utilizes her hands on your face to push your head up, allowing her to see you in all your puffy faces glory.

“my darling, i believe you deserve the world.”

#𓂃 ࣪˖ ִֶָ𐀔 alice writes.#caitlynྀི txt.#۶ৎ older gf!caitlyn.#arcane #arcane x reader #arcane fluff #arcane angst #caitlyn arcane #caitlyn kiramman #caitlyn kiramman fluff #caitlyn kiramman x you #caitlyn kiramman x reader #lesbian #wlw

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formulamar · 1 day ago

Text

puppy love (but it’s cats!) part 2

part 1

max verstappen x vet!yn

fc: girls from pinterest

summary: as a Monaco native, Yn has had her fair share of encounters with F1 drivers. and as a vet, she has even fostered close relationships with some of the driver's pets. what happens when she is introduced to a single Max Verstappen who has two adorable cats?

rumorhasitf1

liked by butfirstmax, exusername and 6,083 others

rumorhasitf1: 🚨 JUST IN 🚨

Max Verstappen spotted kissing a mysterious brunette while on vacation in the Bahamas 👀

1,672 comments

maxisfast: mama a frat boy era max behind YOU 💜

dutch1: call me crazy but she has the same hair length as the girl in barcelona

maxiellvr: that or he just has a type 🤔

vermax: OHHHHHHH AGAIN?

frmlamax: he's just kissing everyone at this point (jk it's been like 2 people)

maxstap1: me 3 drinks in

butfirstmax: and what if it's vetyn...

albon33: i mean she is brunette..

vermax: and so are a million other girls lets chill guys

rbgirl: ANDDDD may he enjoy it *insert Olivia Wilde nodding gif*

maxlovescats: no fr people are acting like he's a hoe or something like his life up until now has been so hyper focused on racing. dating has always been a secondary thing and he's always been in long term relationships let him have some funnnn

rbgirl: TRUTH.

userloves1633: not max's ex in the likes...

30three: honestly it could be that they're back together or that she's not leaving him alone which not surprising considering the break up aftermath.

vetyn

liked by maxverstappen1 and 3,781 others

vetyn: a summer for the books 📖🌅🌊🫧

1,782 comments

ynbestfriend: oh FOR SURE 😏

vetyn: hehe 🤭

f1fan: omg that looks like one of Max's cats

frmlamax: WAIT...

lilymhe: gorg girl I miss you!

vetyn: i miss you so so so much. see you soon tho xx

ynfriend: prettiest girl!

liked by vetyn

maxverstappen1: Paddel rematch?

vetyn: oh you're on but i’ll win!

maxverstappen1: We'll see about that

rbgirl: ARE WE ALL SEEING THISSSSSS

ynsister: THE KITTTTYYYYY 🥰

vetyn: my baby 🥹💞

girlstappen: ok maybe i'm just delulu but that watch looks a lot like Max's

maxlovescats: NO I WAS THINKING THAT TOO

albonooo: omg were you at the Monaco GP???

vetyn: yes ☺️

alexandrasaintmleux: 💕

liked by vetyn

rumorhasitf1

liked by alex_albon, vermax and 6,523 others

rumorhasitf1: Max Verstappen was asked about his new relationship in the media pen.

1,873 comments

lexalbon: NOT ALEX IN THE LIKES???

twenty33three: that really makes me think he was the wingman

maxiellvr: notice how the interviewer says "newly" hehe no ex here!

verstappen4life: true and he looks so re-energized

notmaxver: guys it has to be @/vetyn

userloves1633: THE DIRECT TAG IS CRAZY LOL

frmla1girl: true but i mean the clues are there

frmlamax: he looks sooooo happy aweee

rbgirl: BLUSHING AND SMILING

maxisfast: I hope we get to see them together soon!

ynbff story

[caption 1] new tradition? [caption 2] thank you for letting sassy spend the day with auntie 🥰 @/vetyn @/maxverstappen1

user: yn's bff.... is "auntie" to a bengal...named SASSY AND yn's bff tagged MAX VERSTAPPEN on the story...

user: I CAN'T BELIEVE THIS AHHHHHH

user: wait was this posted on accident i thought they were keeping it lowkey

user: yes I think she didn't mean to post it LMAO

user: the third story omg 💀

user: this is so funny 😭

vetyn

liked by maxverstappen1, ynsister and 14,267 others

vetyn: a very special weekend 💙🦁 met some very cute dogs and reunited with others! oh and my boyfriend was there too!

9,523 comments

ynbff: omg hard launch awesome 😱 so can we just pretend i didnt lowkey leak your relationship on accident 💕

vetyn: right okay…

maxverstappen1: Don’t worry we forgive you

ynbff: THANKS MAX 😄

girlstappen: THE PICTURE 🥹

ynfriend: so happy for you!!!!

liked by vetyn

notmaxver: OHHH I KNEW IT

rbgirl: why is no one talking about the caption i burst out laughing 😭

f1fan: no cause same

dutch1: the drinks same girl

maxiellvr: when cat lovers meet 🐈

liked by vetyn

alex_albon: Where’s my credit?

lilymhe: what are you talking about? this was all my doing? 🤨

alex_albon: I LITERALLY SET THEM UP

vetyn: alex don’t lie!

alex_albon: At this point you guys are just ganging up on me

maxisfast: new wag alert!

frmlamax: cutest couple ever omg

⋆｡°✩ ⋆｡°✩ ⋆｡°✩ ⋆｡°✩ ⋆｡°✩ ⋆｡°✩ ⋆｡°✩ ⋆｡°✩ ⋆｡°

a/n: anddd here’s part 2! sorry for taking forever school was really stressful for like 2 months straight but i’m so happy the semester is over 🧚🏻 also congrats to max and kelly on their baby!!!! i think i posted part 1 to this like a week before that was announced lol!

taglist: @anilovessadbooks @raizelchrysanderoctavius

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thepitlanepress · 19 hours ago

Text

I DON'T LIKE IT –

↳ lando norris + bestfriend!reader

⌗ :: masterlist

⌗ :: a/n: im actually in a lando phase (maybe its bc i f1 is gone for months) but its effecting me so much so im blessing you all with JEALOUS/POSSESSIVE LANDOOOO AHHEHE. merry christmas my lovelies <33 (also if this is bad im sorry i was extremely tired when i wrote this lol)

usually you don't like going out with lando. the clubs, partying, drinking it wasn't exactly your scene.

so when he insists you come out with him to celebrate the constructors championship, you can't exactly say no. hence, the short fitting black dress, and nicely done, hair and makeup that you've put on. when you go out, you go out, it just doesn't happen very often.

"are you nearly done?" lando's voice calls out from the living room as he waits for you.

"yeah, i'm coming now," you call back, walking down the stairs and mentally preparing yourself to talk and interact with people.

you grab the car keys off the small table in the hallway and make your way into the living room your footsteps announcing your presence to lando, he turns around and slightly falters in his movements when he sees you.

"uh, wow, okay," he says looking you up and down slowly, his eyes raking over your body.

"what?" your brows bunch and you look down at your outfit. "i thought it looked good, is there something wrong?"

"uh... no, no, you look amazing, i just wasn't expecting you to look so nic-"

"you weren't expecting me to look nice?" you raise your voice playfully.

"no, no, no i- uh- no- look... shit," lando mutters looking down and shaking his head. "you look amazing, seriously. i just forgot how well you can pull off a black dress."

you smile, and chuck the keys towards him, "i can pull off anything lando norris, even you. and that's not something everybody can do." you wink and walk back out through the hallway to the car.

"you can pull off me?"

"yeah, not every girl can have lando norris on her arm and still be the centre of attention. there are perks to being your best friend you know."

"and there are perks to being yours," lando says unlocking the car and sliding into the drivers seat. you feel the safest when he's driving, always trusting him when he's behind the wheel.

"oh really?" you ask looking over at him. "like what?"

"you," he murmurs backing out of the driveway. you don't hear him though, too distracted by a text you received from your sister.

–––

he didn't like it, you could tell. was it the murderous looks he was sending in the direction of the guy's - who's name you've already forgotten - or was it the looks he was sending you, heated and something else? both probably.

he wasn't even focused on the crowd around him dancing and drinking their nights away.

when the guy started getting too handsy that is when you felt lando's hand wrap around your waist and causing butterflies to erupt in your stomach - which you promptly ignored.

"leave her alone, mate. she's mine," lando's voice comes out harsh his anger directed towards the man who steps back apologising - typical of him to only step back when another man steps in.

"oh sorry, i didn't know," he slurs and walks off, most likely to go puke in some poor person's handbag.

you're about to spin around in lando's arms and thank him for rescuing you but you stop short at the expression on his face. "what?" you look down at your outfit. "is it the same thing from earlier? what's wrong?"

"i don't like it."

"don't like what?" you ask furrowing your brows.

"when other people touch you," he responds quietly his voice low and tempting. thats new.

"oh," you reply slightly dumbfounded. in all your years of knowing lando norris you've always had hidden feelings for him, sure there were points when said feelings were buried deep deep down, but they were always there.

and you always thought they were never reciprocated but they way lando is looking at you right now is... something new. something you like... a lot.

"i don't like people thinking they can just touch you. they can't. because you're mine not theirs. you're my best friend. you're my person. you're not theirs to touch or hold or flirt with, because you're mine."

his arms tighten around your waist as if he's expecting you to run away at any moment.

"oh my," you breathe. "i don't know what to say."

"tell me you feel the same way, tell me that i can be yours, because you're mine, and i'm not letting you go anytime soon."

"possessive are we?" you chuckle trying to diffuse the tension because he's probably drunk, he's going to wake up in the morning and apologise about this insisting he doesn't know what he was talking about and how sorry he was.

its happened so many times before.

your heart gets crushed every time. so you don't go out with him to avoid it.

but tonight this feels different.

"i haven't had a sip of alcohol tonight, this is the most clearheaded i've ever been in a long time... please talk to me."

"lando," you whisper. your heart is teetering on the edge of being shattered to pieces and finally telling the truth. you're walking a thin line between the two hoping to fall on the right side. "i don't want this to be like those other times when you wake up in the morning apologising for what you say."

"i never meant those apologies. i remember all those nights, i lied," he breathes swaying with you to the music. "i freaked out in the morning because you would always want to talk about what happened, and your face was always so distrusting so i shut it down pretending i didn't know what happened."

"really?" you're tilting on the line, swaying from side to side waiting for the words that are going to make or break you.

"really. i've been in love with you ever since the day you stopped to pick a flower that reminded you of me."

"lando," you give him a look. "that was like the second time we met."

"and i've been yours ever since." he smiles at you, his eyes filled with clear adoration, which quickly turns to a pissed off look when someone steps up behind you and asks for a dance. "piss off mate, we're clearly talking."

you smile and don't even bother to look back at the man, everything you've ever wanted is standing in front of you and offering himself on a platter for you. and you're tired, so tired of staying on the ledge between friends and more,

so you take the leap.

pulling him imperceptibly closer you wrap your arms around his neck and hug him tightly whispering in his ear, "i'm yours too."

you can physically feel his body relax and mold around yours - a perfect fit of course.

if you fall, it will hurt for sure, but this moment, right now; flying with him, together, will be worth it if you do.

2024 © thepitlanepress | please do not steal, use, translate or repost any of my works

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emilys-bangs · 2 days ago

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I can't read you (but if you want, the pleasure's all mine) | e.p

Tags: flirty!emily, shy!hotch's assistant!reader, fluff, hint of angst?, implied that emily isn't sleeping well :[, worried reader (duh), emily calls reader petnames, emily is down BAD

Summary: Emily loiters around in your office for no good reason.

Word count: 1.7k

A/n: I'm not sure if the idea of Hotch's assistant reader belongs to a single person, but I take no credit for it, I got inspired to write my own after reading @/mariasont's absolutely fabulous bimbo!assistant series, so very many thanks to her!! (and if there are any hotch girlies around here go check it out). Alsoo I think I'm probably gonna add a few more parts to this as interconnected oneshots, I had too many ideas and they couldn't all fit into one fic :p

It’s not that your office is hidden; it’s just out of the way. A short walk before the bullpen’s glass doors, on the opposite side of the restrooms. It’s not nestled within the buzz, and yet a single agent flits to it like a moth to a flame, with no reason or purpose behind her frequent visits.

“Hey, gorgeous,” Emily murmurs. She flashes you a smile, genuine but fading as she rests her hip against your desk and leans on it.

“Hi.” You don’t return her smile, too busy examining the bruised shadows under her eyes. A frown pulls your lips downward. “You look tired.”

“Ouch,” she mock winces. “Take it easy on a girl’s ego, will you?”

“I’m serious. Did you sleep okay?”

Something flickers behind her eyes. They’re dark eyes, endless and lovely, but something about them seems dull today. “Slept okay,” she dips her chin in a nod, “as well as I could without you there with me.”

It’s instantaneous, the knot in your tongue. Heat surges above the collar of your button down, the flush creeping up your neck, and Emily’s gaze becomes too much to hold. You drop your eyes to the neat surface of your desk, shifting files around beneath your sweaty fingertips.

“It’s a big bed,” she continues through her brilliant teeth, gently poking at your composure. “A king. Gets cold easily, y’know? Hey, out of curiosity, do you happen to run hot? I’m freezing most of—”

“Prentiss.”

You both look up to find Hotch at your open door, his mouth set in a straight line—probably at the blatant show of fraternization from his subordinate. Emily grins at him winningly, unabashed as she gives a nod and drawls out, “Morning.”

The stare he gives her is a usual for when she’s leaning against your desk: stop flirting with my assistant. He doesn’t say it, only arches his brow, but everyone hears it.

“Good morning.” His voice is dry. Walking in, his gaze flits to you. “Any urgent cases?”

“N-No sir,” you fluster, cheeks still unbearably hot at the thought of you and Emily intertwined on her bed. Rubbing at your temple, your eyes dip down to the sticky note you’d stuck on your desk in preparation for the day’s tasks. The scrawl of your handwriting sparks competence back into your brain. “Uh, Strauss called again,” you say sheepishly; Hotch’s lips press together, his top lip disappearing, “about the budget meeting. That’s…three times this month?” You tilt your head, grimacing. “I’m starting to worry she’ll barter away the jet soon, save herself the headache.”

Emily lets out a small laugh. “I think letting Morgan go would be more cost effective.”

She’s not entirely unfair—you’ve filed enough damage reports this month to make the director weep. The corner of your mouth tickles. Emily catches your eyes, lashes feathering over her cheek in a wink.

Hotch ignores her.

“We’ve only got consults for today, right?” He asks. You nod. “See if we can schedule it today, get it over with. And, uh,” his eyes linger pointedly on Emily, “it’s almost 9.”

“We’ll be there in a minute,” she answers for the both of you, drowning out your low, yes sir.

The lumping of you and her in a we makes you pathetically giddy.

It could possibly be considered rude for you to drop your eyes back to your desk before your boss leaves, robbing him of attention, but he’s already turning on his heel and with the two of them crowding your space, it’s like you’re flayed open beneath their sharp eyes. Profilers, you grumble internally, a small shake to your hands as Emily’s perfume dissolves over you in waves, a product of her coming closer. She’s next to your elbow now, the pale outline of her hand creeping up next to yours.

“Here, honey, let me help.”

You inhale a sharp breath, feeling the cold air drop all the way to the pit of your stomach. “They’re just a few files.” You mumble, gathering the consults and standing clumsily, eager to escape the heat of her body pressing against yours.

It’s a bad move. Your chest bumps into her arm, not hard, but enough to make you sway on your feet. Emily’s other hand is quick to land on your waist, steadily restoring your balance with a squeeze through your cardigan that has your head reeling.

“Careful there,” she says softly. You blink at her, the tired slant of her lashes now almost at eye-level. “Sorry, I was in your way—”

“Are you sure you’re good?” You blurt. Emily’s mouth snaps shut and you hug the files to your chest, looking her over more thoroughly. Minimal, effortless makeup, but there’s a wrinkle in her shirt, creases in the skin under her eyes. It’s not unusual for her to be tired, given the nature of her job, but the lines of her body are more tense than you’ve seen them.

At your question, it’s almost like she coils further into a tight spring.

“Yeah.” Emily says firmly. “I’m good, don’t worry about me. My cat kept waking me up, yelling all night to be let out and then yelling to be let in.” Her mouth twists into a wry smile.

“Sergio?”

“Mhm,” she nods. “He’s talkative.”

Her tone is as convincing as it ever is, buttery smooth and warm. But you don’t believe her. It’s a gut feeling, not something you can explain with any shred of reason; the certainty of it clings to you, so you look into the molten pools of her irises and hold on.

“You can—you, um…” the thoughts scatter from your brain just when you start, possibly the quiet intensity of Emily’s eyes making them flutter out of your skull. But she’s patient. Tilting her head, she doesn’t interrupt your silence, only presses her lips together in a reassuring smile.

The frustration settles bitterly in your gut, but you blow out a breath. Swallow and gather your words with a firm hand. When you finally have a good grasp on them, you look Emily in the eye and speak slowly.

“You could talk to me, you know. About anything. If you’re not sleeping, or—or just if you want to,” you shrug jerkily. “Doesn’t have to be anything, really, but I’m here. For you.” Stupidly, you wish you could reach out, gather the courage to place your hand on her shoulder or curl your fingers around her elbow. Maybe offer a reassuring squeeze, something more tangible than your useless, mumbled words. Emily touches you so much, it should be normal, but sweat slicks your skin at the thought of you initiating.

The arch of her brows softens as she smiles. It takes some pressure off your chest, more so when she loosely cups your elbow. “Thank you.” She says quietly. Her hand squeezes and your eyes skate over her face, searching. “Really, honey, thank you. But I’m fine. Slept late is all.”

Now that you’ve caught her out, she lets you hear the hint of exhaustion in her voice, raspy threads lacing through her words. It makes you wonder what else she hides so easily, exactly how much effort it would take to get her to let her walls crumble and the facade burn down. But she’s already a flighty person, wings flapping if she feels like the walls are starting to close in, so you don’t push further even though you want to.

“Oh. Uh, okay,” you fidget with your sleeve, tugging it further down your hand to dry the sweat on it. A quick flash of your eyes on Emily’s face tells you she’s still smiling, her lips drawn in a gentle curve. You look away again.

“I just wanted you to know. That you could, if you wanted to. ’bout anything.” The last part comes out as a whisper. You hug the consult files closer to your chest, your eyes dropping to the watch strapped to your wrist. 8:59. “We should go, the team’s—”

“I do know that.” Emily says. Her hand falls away from your elbow, but her eyes fill with so much warmth you hardly feel the loss. “I know it. And I—” The heat of her eyes disappears, seeking something lower than your eyesight before snapping back up again. A confused flurry rips through your gut and she falters, mouth opening and closing. Her lips part again and she finally says, “You could, too. Talk to me about anything.” Sincerity is thick in her voice, her gaze earnest as she stares into your soul. “I hope you know that.”

The back of your throat is briefly dry. A small dip of your chin constitutes a nod; swallowing, you curl your fingers around the edges of the consultation files.

“Yeah,” you breathe. “Yeah, I know.”

When Emily smiles, her eyes brighten the tiniest bit. A thrill goes through you at the thought of igniting it. Your own lips start to curve, but their path is rudely stopped when Emily’s brows tick upward.

“Oops,” she says lightly, her eyes finding the clock above your door. “9:01—” You curse as you look down at your own watch, eyes bugging out at the time. One minute is hardly late, but so far your record with Hotch has been spotless, and you want to keep it that way.

Emily’s hand needlessly nudges the center of your back. “Let’s go, gorgeous.” She murmurs. You’re already moving, shooting past the open door of your office without hanging back to close it. A distant click tells you Emily does it, and a few more not so distant clicks of her heels on the floor tell you that she hurries to catch up to your gait. You’re still cursing under your breath, preemptively flustered at the thought of walking in late into the conference room, the rest of the team seated and waiting for your arrival. The weight of their eyes on you is already heavy.

“Your fault,” you mumble to Emily without any real heat.

She pulls open the bullpen door for you. You step through. “Hey, don’t worry. It’s just a minute, two tops.” The relaxed drawl of her voice doesn’t make you slow down. “Listen, if Hotch does pull out the death glare just get behind me, yeah? I’ll protect you.”

You finally turn your head and look at her, none too surprised to find her grinning. It makes you falter, feet slowing as you cross the bullpen floor. Stupid heat burns in your cheeks; you look away.

“Shut up, Prentiss.”

“Sorry, babe.”

taglist: @suckerforcate @sickoherd @lextism @catssluvr @i-lovefandom @haiklya @justhereforthosefics @storiesofsvu@ashluvscaterina @basicallyvivi@temilyrights @professorsapphic

#emily prentiss #emily prentiss x reader #emily prentiss x you #emily prentiss x y/n #emily prentiss fanfic #emily prentiss fic #emily prentiss fics #emily prentiss fanfiction #emily prentiss fluff #emily prentiss imagine #emily prentiss drabble #emily prentiss blurb #criminal minds x reader #criminal minds fanfic #fic #divider by saradika

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luvleyshif4 · 14 hours ago

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rafe x reader.... she's touchstarved. Maybe size/height difference. Just the wonderful feeling of him being the protector (and 'provider'). They've only been dating for a little while but he figures out that her love language is physical touch. And she's so surprised bc she isn't used to receiving love. Prob a bad family setting... thanks, love <33

JUST HOLD ME

Rafe Cameron x Reader

Warnings: Mention of family issues, emotional vulnerability, emotional repression, medium angst turned into fluff, reader is touch starved, implied toxic family dynamics, reader might have body dysmorphia (N/A).

Word count: 1.22k words

Authors note: heyy bb!! Tysmmm for requesting this!!! I already had something like that sitting in my drafts so I thought I’d just add some changes to suit your idea🤞🏽🤞🏽🤞🏽honestly your idea made it sooo soo much better!! HOPE YOU LIKE IT CAUSE I KNOW I DO💗💗 (also I didn’t proof read this so let me know if there’s any grammar mistakes😝😝)

The night was quiet, the kind of stillness that felt heavy yet comforting. Rafe’s truck hummed softly beneath you, the glow of the dashboard lights casting faint shadows across his face.

He had picked you up an hour ago, like he always did when your texts grew short and vague, as though he could sense the things you didn’t say. The roads were empty, a blur of dim streetlights and the occasional flicker of passing headlights.

You sat in the passenger seat, curled slightly toward the door, your oversized hoodie swallowing you whole. Rafe’s hand rested on the gear shift, his fingers drumming a slow rhythm as the faint hum of music played in the background.

He wasn’t saying much tonight, giving you space like he always did, but you could feel his eyes flick toward you now and then, studying you.

“Do you want to talk about it?” he finally asked, his voice breaking the silence but staying soft.

You didn’t answer right away, your fingers playing with the strings of your hoodie. The truth was, you didn’t know how to talk about it—the way your chest felt tight every time you thought about home, the way your family’s sharp words had a way of cutting deeper than they should. It wasn’t new, but it felt heavier lately, like you were dragging something you couldn’t shake off.

“I’m fine,” you said, the words automatic and hollow.

Rafe glanced at you again, his jaw tightening slightly. He didn’t press, though. He never did. Instead, his hand shifted, brushing lightly against your knee before returning to the gear shift. It was such a small gesture, but it made your throat tighten. You turned your head, staring out the window, hoping he wouldn’t notice the way your hands were trembling slightly.

The silence stretched on, comfortable for him, suffocating for you. It wasn’t that you didn’t trust Rafe—you did, more than you’d ever thought possible for someone you’d only been with for a few months. It was just that you didn’t know how to let someone in like this. You didn’t know how to let yourself be seen, not when you’d spent so long trying to shrink yourself down, to take up less space.

Rafe, of course, noticed everything.

He didn’t say anything at first, but you felt the shift when he slowed the truck down, pulling over to the side of the road. The engine idled softly as he put the truck in park, turning to face you fully. His brows were drawn together, his blue eyes searching yours in the dim light.

“Talk to me,” he said, his voice low but steady.

Your chest tightened again, and you shook your head, biting the inside of your cheek. “It’s nothing,” you muttered, barely meeting his gaze. “Just a long day.”

Rafe let out a soft, disbelieving huff, leaning back slightly. He didn’t look frustrated, just… concerned. And that concern was somehow worse, more overwhelming than if he’d been annoyed.

“Come on,” he said, his tone lighter but still holding that edge of care. “You don’t get this quiet unless something’s really messing with you. I’m not going anywhere, so you might as well tell me.”

The weight of his words hit you harder than you expected. You glanced at him, your lips parting as if to say something, but the words stuck in your throat. Rafe’s gaze softened even further, and without thinking, he reached over, his hand hesitating for a moment before he grazed the back of his fingers against your cheek. The touch was featherlight, and yet it sent a shiver through you. You didn’t pull away. Instead, you leaned into it, your eyes fluttering shut for a moment as if savoring the warmth.

Rafe stilled, watching you as though you were the only thing in the world that mattered. His hand lingered there, his knuckles brushing over your skin softly, reverently. “You’re allowed to let me in,” he murmured, his voice barely above a whisper.

Your breath hitched at his words, but you didn’t pull back. Instead, you let yourself lean into his hand fully, your head tilting slightly as though you didn’t want him to stop. His thumb shifted, lightly grazing your chin, and your eyes opened just in time to catch the way his gaze flicked down to your lips.

It wasn’t rushed or sudden. His movements were deliberate, careful, giving you every chance to stop him. But you didn’t. You couldn’t. When his lips finally met yours, it was soft and slow, like a promise. He kissed you with a tenderness that made your chest ache, his hand still cradling your face as though he couldn’t bear to let go.

Your body melted into his touch, your fingers gripping the fabric of his shirt to steady yourself. The kiss deepened slightly, but it stayed unhurried, every movement of his lips against yours making you feel like you were coming undone in the best possible way.

When he finally pulled back, his forehead rested against yours, his thumb brushing gently over your chin. He didn’t say anything at first, just looked at you, his blue eyes filled with something you couldn’t quite name but felt down to your core.

“You don’t have to tell me everything right now,” he said, his voice low and steady. “But I need you to know that you’re not alone. Not with me.”

Your chest ached at his words, and you opened your eyes, meeting his. There was no judgment there, no expectation. Just him, just Rafe, offering you something you didn’t know how to accept but desperately wanted to.

Your lips parted like you might say something, but no words came. Instead, you let out a shaky breath and leaned into him again, resting your head on his shoulder this time. His arms wrapped around you without hesitation, holding you tightly, protectively, as though shielding you from all the things you couldn’t put into words.

And for the first time in what felt like forever, you let yourself be held. Safe, warm, and, for once, not alone.

#drew starkey #drew starkey x reader #obx fanfiction #outer banks #outer banks fanfiction #rafe cameron #rafe cameron fanfiction #rafe cameron imagines #drew starkey x y/n #obx #rafe cameron x reader #rafe cameron angst #drew starkey angst #drew starkey fluff

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writingsbytee · 2 days ago

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SEXUAL HEALING

TERRY RICHMOND x BLACK FEM READER

WARNING / TRIGGERS: Reader is DEPRESSED, no thoughts of self harm or un-aliving herself. Babygirl is just having a depressive episode. Depressed themes, Sexual themes, explicit sexual content; dirty talk; soft Dom,

SUMMARY: Reader is depressed and Terry fucks her out of it

WORD COUNT: 3.8k

*Remember you are in charge of your own consumption. 18+ up audiences only; minora please don’t interact!*

*Also, this is complete fiction. I'm writing about the reader’s depression simply based on my experiences and knowledge of depression. I’m in NO WAY saying that this is what depression is for every individual. This is a safe space. If you or someone you know is struggling with their mental health please reach out to your local crisis center so that they can provide resources. Read with care. Love you guys <3*

This hasn’t been proofread

You groaned as your phone rang yet again, reaching out from under your blankets, your hand blindly slapping your bedside table in search of the device. Checking to see who called, a pained sigh leaves your lips. Terry, your boyfriend called you 4 times in the past hour. Deciding to put him out of his misery you answer the call.

“Hello?”, you say, not even bothering to hide the quiver in your voice.

“Babygirl? What’s wrong?,” Terry asked, his voice sounding frantic.

A watery sigh leaves your lips, “I’m having a moment Terry, I’ll be ok. It’s just taking a little bit longer for me to come out of it.”

I hear Terry’s door shut on the other line, “I’m on my way sweet girl, Daddy’s coming”

A muffled sob leaves your mouth at Terry��s words. Always willing to stop whatever he’s doing to help you fight the demons constantly plaguing your mind. Religious therapy and an antidepressant regimen seemed to keep the dark thoughts at bay. Every now and then the debilitating thoughts would come back rendering you useless. Your apartment desperately needed a deep clean as well as your room. Your bed becoming a cesspool, you slept, ate, and cried in the same spot for a little over a week now.

Rolling onto your back you let out a deep sigh, wanting to be normal and not a basket case full of emotions.

45 MINUTES LATER

You could hear your front door open and close, signaling that Terry arrived. You heard him set bags down in your kitchen before his light footfalls made his way to your room. He knocked twice before peeking his head in. Terry’s small smile dropped when he saw the state of you and your room. It broke his heart to see you this way.

“Aww honey, I’m here,” Terry said walking toward you. Tear tracks making their way down your face and silent sobs wracked your body.

“I’m so sorry, Terry. I didn’t mean to make you come all the way down here,” You said, covering your face with your hands. Terry gently grabbed your hands, removing them from your face.

“Sweet girl, never apologize because the air gets a little too heavy for you. That’s why I’m here to take some of the load off,” Terry said with a small smile. Your gentle green-eyed giant, you grabbed your glasses, putting them on.

You brought a hand up to his cheek, “You’re too good for this world Terry Richmond. Thank you, for being what I never knew I needed,” you say with all the sincerity you can muster.

Terry’s eyes shine with unshed tears, “you’ll never have to go through these feelings alone again. Baby when I said I wasn’t going anywhere I meant that. You’re stuck with me sweetheart,” Terry finishes, with a watery smile of his own. He gently raises me into a sitting position.

“Here’s what I want you to do. I brought you your favorite body wash shampoo, conditioner and those wax things you like so much. Go take a shower, wash your hair,pamper yourself. I’m going to get started on your sheets. Okay babygirl?”, he asked. Your eyes practically turned into hearts looking at Terry.

A small smile formed on your lips as you said a gentle, “Okay, Daddy.”

His smile widened, leaning forward to place a kiss on your forehead. “There’s my girl. Now go get cleaned up, I’ll take care of everything else.” You nodded, rising slowly, and made your way into the bathroom. You didn’t dare glance at yourself in the mirror. Not in the mood for the thoughts to take hold again. Turning on the shower as hot as it would get you stepped in, ready to wash the bad thoughts away.

Meanwhile, Terry was in your room replacing your dirty sheets, putting them in the wash, and tidying up around your apartment. He hated that he couldn’t save you from your thoughts, but he’d be damned if he didn’t try. He understood that everyone’s trauma affected them differently. His put him in attack mode, while yours forced you to shut down.

As you washed your hair, you could feel your sense of self slowly returning. You found peace in taking care of yourself. Detangling your curls felt as if you were brushing away all the bad thoughts. Exfoliating was like scrubbing away your impurities, leaving you shiny and new. You don’t know why you couldn’t muster up the strength to take the 15 foot walk to your bathroom. But that’s depression in a nutshell, making the most mundane tasks feel like climbing mount everest. You spent at least an hour in the bathroom, when you emerged you felt like a different person. Your heart warmed at the sight of your room, new sheets adorned your bed with a new hello kitty plushie and pajama set.

Exiting your room, you start searching for your boyfriend. Finding him in your living room playing your favorite vinyl and watering your plants. You will yourself not to cry at Terry’s selflessness, you just run up behind him wrapping his torso in a hug.

“Hey, baby. Feeling better?”he asks, turning to face you. You place a kiss right above his heart, looking up at him you nod.

“Yeah honey, thank you. I don’t know what I’d do without you” you say, staring up at him adoringly.

Terry pet your head lovingly, “Let’s hope you never have to find out. Now go make yourself comfortable, I ordered your favorite vietnamese take-out and I’m going to rub your feet until it gets here.”

A warm gooey feeling spreads from your head to your toes. A slow grin taking over your face at your adonis of a boyfriend takes care of your body, mind, and soul. Settling into your sectional, you wiggle your toes playfully urging him closer. Terry chuckles through his nose, making his way toward you. Sliding down beside you , he grabbed both of your legs, placing them on his lap.

“Relax baby, Daddy’s here now and I’m going to take care of you,” Terry said, running his hands up your bare calves. His touch warms your skin instantly. A content sigh leaves your lips as you rest your head on the arm of your sofa.

“Good girl,” Terry said, grabbing your right foot. He began slowly, just caressing your feet adding a tickle here and there pulling small giggles from your lips. Terry started to work on your foot starting slowly on your instep, applying light pressure. Then he moved to your arch applying pressure that was almost painful, causing a gasp to leave your lips.

“You’ve got a knot here, be patient I’ll work it out,” Terry said, digging in deeper. An involuntary moan leaves your lips, the release of the tenson expelling through your lips. Terry smirked, his plan was working. This kept going for a while, Terry expertly massaging your feet, and you moaning like he was massaging somewhere else. You're getting wetter by the minute.

The doorbell interrupts your massage as a groan leaves your lips, “I was just starting to relax,” you whined. Terry lets out a chuckle before getting up. Leaning to kiss your forehead, “You’ll have plenty of time to relax later, trust me.” And with that, he heads toward the door to grab the food. Terry doesn’t let you lift a finger while he plates the food for you two. Just advising you to find something “good to watch.” With a smirk, you put on your favorite show at the moment, ‘True Blood.’ Terry liked the show surprisingly, being the first of your boyfriends to take an interest in YOUR interests. What he didn’t like was how googly-eyed you got over Alcide. As trivial as it was, he wasn't going to sit and watch you drool over another man.

Plating your food,

Terry brought it to you. Plopping down next to you on the couch with a plan in mind, Terry just sat back and watched you enjoy your food. A small satisfied sigh leaves your lips at the first bite.

“Mmm, it’s so good! Thank you baby” you say, leaning in to kiss Terry’s cheek. He could feel his cheeks warm at your gratitude, placing a hand on your thigh and squeezing. Your breath hitched when Terry’s hand refused to leave your thigh. Instead tracing small circles while you ate.

After finishing your food you and Terry cuddled up on your sofa with a blanket. Rubbing his chest you say, “Thank you for everything Terry, I don’t know what I did to deserve you.”

Terry looks down at you grasping your chin forcing your brown eyes to meet his mossy green ones. “I’m just doing my job baby. What kind of man would I be if I let my woman suffer alone? I’m here for you, I love you, and I’ll always make sure you’re taken care of.” Terry’s hand migrated to the back of your neck, pulling you in excruciatingly slow. He watched your face change. Eyes become low, lips parting, and your breathing turns shallow.

Terry inches impossibly closer, your lips a hair’s width apart, “What do you want, pretty girl?”

“Kiss me, please?” you ask, fingers coming up to grip his t-shirt. A small devious smirk makes its way onto Terry’s face as he leans down, lips brushing against yours. The anticipation is killing you. You two were practically sharing the same breath, yet Terry wouldn’t close the gap and lay one on you.

“Please, Daddy? Let me thank you, I’ve been good haven't I?” you ask, looking up at Terry with the doe eyes that he loves so much.

A groan leaves his lips as Terry places your bowl on the coffee table “You know what that look does to me, baby. C’mere,” and then his lips are on you. A surprised moan leaves your lips as you pull Terry closer, sucking his lips between yours. He grabs your hips positioning you on his lap, right atop his growing bulge.

“How are you feeling honey, still sad? What can Daddy do?” Terry asks, his hand grasping and pulling at the fat of your ass. Grinding you against thick dick.

“Touch me, please Daddy”, you whine. You could feel yourself soaking through the seat of your sleep shorts, having forgone underwear. Terry smiles against your lips, “I am touching you pretty girl”. Pulling back for air, you move your attention to his thick neck. Placing wet open mouthed kisses there migrating up to his ear, nipping and sucking at the lobe. You hear Terry’s breath stutter drawing a smile from your lips. Terry pulls back in time to see the bright dopey smile on your face and he places a kiss on your nose.

Pulling your shirt over your head, Terry's eyes lock on plump mahogany breasts and chocolate nipples.

“Fuck, pretty girl. You’re not playing fair,” Terry says, head dropping onto the back of the sofa. A soft giggle leaves your lips. You slither up Terry’s body like a cat in heat, wrapping your arms around his neck.

“C’mon Daddy don’t you wanna feel how wet I am for you? Just for you,” you whisper into Terry’s ear, finishing with a lick. A small ‘fuck’ leaves Terry’s lips as his hand comes cracking down on your ass forcing a small yelp to leave your lips.

“Keep that up baby and I’ll give you exactly what you’re asking for,” Terry said, playing with your shorts. Pulling them halfway down to jiggle your ass or tugging them high up your ass giving your clit the much needed friction you craved. You two were making out like porn stars, sloppily, lips glistening with spit. You pulled back to look at Terry, his eyes half mast filled with need and desire for you. You’re positive your face looks the same. Terry picks you up off his lap, setting you next to him on the sofa as he gets up. Turning on your sunset lamp and turning off the lights to create an ethereal glow around your living room. Then he moves pieces of your sectional together making it a day bed of some sort.

“Strip babygirl, I want you naked by the time I get back,” Terry commands, then picks up your leftovers, and heads back to the kitchen. It was embarrassing how fast you threw the sticky shorts off. Your pussy was talking and Terry hadn’t even touched you yet. As you wait for Terry, you start massaging your tits. Nipples forming tight peaks, tugging and pulling creates a throb you feel straight down to your clit. Small moans started leaving your lips. The ache between your thighs growing almost painful as you whined, waiting for your man to return and fuck you stupid. After five minutes you almost debate finding him.

“Terrrrryyyy,” you cry out. When you get no response you peek over your shoulder, when you don’t see him you decide to start on your own. Sliding your hands down your body, you’re about to reach your pussy when Terry’s hand grabs yours, pulling a gasp from you.

“I said strip, when did I tell you to touch my pussy?”Terry's looking down his nose at you.

“I’m sorry, Daddy I need you please!” You whine, sitting up. Terry makes his way around the sofa looking like a lion stalking his prey. He stands in front of you crossing his arms, a cup in one hand.

“Spread those legs for me mama,let me see my pussy,” Terry said. Your legs fell open immediately the quiet ‘schlick’ heard between the two of you. Terry’s eyes darken, the color of a stormy sea and he takes a step toward you.

“Hands behind your back sweetheart, you know the drill,” Terry purrs, crawling on the sofa. Taking a long sip from his cup before setting it down. Like an obedient little slut you put your hands behind your back with a small smile on your face, “Like this papa?” you asked.

Terry dropped his head and groaned, “I’m trying to make you wait babygirl, I’m two seconds away from burying my face in that sweet pussy,” Terry said, his voice sounding like he was in pain.

“C’mon papa look at how ready she is for you, she couldn’t wait for you to get your hands on her,” you scooched your ass further down the sofa, practically planting your pussy on his chin. With a growl, Terry was on top of you, hand clutching your cunt.

Terry started massaging your clit with his fingers releasing a relieved moan from your lips.

“Unh Terry, it feels good!” you said, head thrown back, and your back arched.

A devilish smile formed on Terry’s lips. He loved the sounds you made when he played with you.

“Make that sound again baby,” Terry said, tonguing your nipple.

“Unh! Daddy!Take your pants off please. I want to feel you” you moan, gripping Terry’s neck. Pulling him down to lock your lips. Terry explored your pussy like it was his first time. Experimenting with how wet he could make you. Sliding his pants and boxers down he freed his monster of a dick.

“I’m going to fuck you baby,but first tell me how bad you want it” Terry said, his finger picking up the pace on your clit.

“I want you so bad Terry,” you say leaning up to peck his lips over and over.

A small chuckle leaves his lips, “Yeah? How bad? Let Daddy know sweetheart.” Terry’s working your clit between his fingers, the slick sounds permeating through your home.

“Fuck Daddy I want you to take care of me like you always do . You’re such a good provider, always making sure I have what I need! Ouuu! Baby, right there! Yes! You’re going to make me cum, fuck!,” You moan out, your voice rising in pitch letting Terry know you were close.

“Then come on my tongue sweet girl,” Terry leans down and takes your clit in his mouth. Your mouth falling open in a silent scream as your breath staccatos

“You look so pretty, baby. I love how wet this pussy gets for me. You ganna let Daddy fuck the bad thoughts away. Want me to make it feel better sweetie. Because I can, you know Daddy can help,” Terry slips two fingers into, causing your soul to leave your body.

Combined with his suction on your clit, you stood no chance against the orgasm that rocked your body. “Oouuu Terry! Yesssss!”, you moaned as Terry worked your orgasm out of you.

“That’s right pretty girl, give me that orgasm,” Terry said, adding another finger. You were beyond seeing stars at this point. There was a full milky way galaxy dancing behind your eyes. Terry had a dark smirk on his face, loving the effect he had on you. He loved making you come, how you gave yourself over to him completely. He was surprised when you forced his fingers out of your pussy, a harsh stream of liquid following. A high pitched moan left your lips as your body shook.

“Yes Honey! That’s it!” Terry moaned, slapping your clit a few times. Your body shook and shuddered in the aftermath of your orgasm. Vision hazy as you tried to center yourself. Terry stripped off the rest of his clothes and hovered over you, his warmth seeping into your skin.

“Hey, look at me baby,”Terry brought his finger to your face caressing you. Your eyes refocused on Terry’s soft ones, a small smile forming on your lips. Terry mirrored your expression, leaning down to press his lips against yours in a passionate sloppy kiss. Teeth and tongues clashing in a frantic meet of mouths. Both of you are trying to convey your love for one another.

“Papa, I need you inside me” you wine against Terry’s lips. Terry doesn’t need to be told twice, he positions himself at your entrance and eases in. Both your lips part, needy moans releasing from your lips.

“Terry, Terry, Terry! Oh my god!” You moan as he sets a punishing rhythm. Punching your cervix with the fat mushroom head of his dick. You lose yourself in the feeling of being fucked by him.

“How’s that feel baby, can you feel how much Daddy loves his sweet girl?” Terry asked. How he could ask you questions while digging your shit out like this is beyond you. You just moan and nod, his thrusts stealing the breath from your lungs.

“Words baby. I need to hear you say it. You’ll do that for daddy won’t you?” Terry asks, bringing his hand up to your throat applying slight pressure. The delicious feeling pulling a needy whine from your lips. Terry was hitting all your spots and you couldn’t think.

“Yes daddy, I feel it. I love it. I love you,” you moan your eyes slowly making their descent to the back of your skull. Terry loved when you started babbling on his dick, saying any and everything to please him. And please him it did.

Terry felt like a man possessed, your pleasure the only thing on his mind determined to coax as many orgasms out of you as possible. He was going at you like a man on a mission. The push and pull, the slick sounds of him going in and out of your pussy driving him insane.

“I love you more baby. I’m sorry I wasn’t there to help you with the dark thoughts, but I’m here now Daddy’s ganna fuck the depression out of you,” Terry said raising one of your knees so he could hit you even deeper.

You bring your hands up, grabbing Terry’s ass pulling him deeper inside you. “Baby you’re going to make me cummm!,” you moan out. Terry moans in your ear, pulling you in for another sloppy kiss. Terry releases your lips, leaning back to look at you.

“Open your eyes pretty girl, I love the way you look when you come for me,” Terry was long past close. He wanted to cum so bad, but he wouldn’t, not until he felt your velvet walls pulse around his thick dick.

“Cum with me Daddy! I need to feel you fill me up!,” You say reaching for Terry’s ears, rubbing them softly. Terry’s eyes start to roll in the back of his head. He loves it when you play with his ears.

“You’re so good to me Daddy, always taking care of me. You’re making me feel so good, thank you Daddy! Thank you for fucking the depression out of…” you never got to finnish your sentence. Orgasm hitting you like a bus. Terry was ejected from your pussy with the force, you squirted so hard your vision went white as a high pitched moan left your lips. Terry started in awe. He stood above you jerking his dick.

“Fuck that was so sexy baby I’m about to come,” Terry said. That all too familiar ache forming in his abdomen. Balls heavy and tight with the need to release. Your eyes regained their focus in just enough time to watch Terry erupt all over you. Painting you with his cum, a small smile formed on your face as his warm release landed on your breasts, tummy and legs.

“Mm that was a big one daddy, thank you,” you moan, collecting his essence to taste. A moan leaves your lips as the salty, earthy musk hits your taste buds. Terry leans down, placing another kiss to your lips.

“How do you feel now babygirl?” Terry asks, using the spare napkins to clean you up.

You place a kiss on Terry’s cheek, “Much better Daddy, but I think I’m still a little sad” you said, smirking up at him. Terry shakes his head at you with a playful smile on his lips.

“Well you better go grab us some waters babygirl, I’m not done with you yet,” Terry said before lifting you over his shoulders to carry you to your room.

THE END <3

I think this might be the fastest I’ve ever written anything. I just really wanted to create a vulnerable piece, and I LOVE how this piece turned out. This is supposed to be a one shot but that’s TBD as of now. As always constructive criticism is encouraged but please take it easy on me, I’m sensitive.

TAGLIST:

@blackgurlnhermoods @megamindsecretlair @dxddykenn @pinkkycherrish @pinkkycherrish @episodes-ff @kimuzostar @kianaleani @uzumaki-rebellion @urfavblackbimbo @shallipii @greatpandagladiator @nahimjustfeelingit-writes @theereina @pocketsizedpanther @mymindisneverhere @onherereading @nayaesworld @earthchica @skyesthebomb @gg-trini @blyffe @melalsworld @mogul93 @ms-mosley-ifunastyyy @sweettea-and-honeybutter @diaries-of-me @simplyzeeka @kumkaniudaku

#rebel ridge fanfiction #terry richmond fanfiction #terry richmond #terry richmond smut #terry richmond x reader #terry richmond x black reader #black!fem!reader #terry richmond x black! fem plus size reader #black fem reader

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parfaitblogs · 9 hours ago

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i have more than enough ❀ s. reid x reader

in which the holiday season is achingly difficult to get through, when you are spencer reid, who believes he is no longer allowed to enjoy them.

pairing: spencer reid x fem!reader genre: hurt/comfort tags: established relationship. post prison!reid. word count: 2k a/n: and for my final act? the parfaitblogs special (post prison reid fic to a searows song). merry christmas from australia because it IS the 25th here!!! this is the end of my christmas advent calendar!! i had soo much fun writing these stories thank you to all that requested ♡

❄︎ advent calendar masterlist

He does not deserve a Christmas.

Perhaps that is the only thing that runs through Spencer Reid's mind the second the Halloween decor filtered out of the stores, reindeer mugs entered them; while candy canes and Santa hats adorned every little item, and Christmas trees lit up every corner of every mall.

No matter what state he traveled to, he couldn't escape the festivities of the holiday season. He's pretty sure he's the only person who wants to.

You waited for him. He feels immensely guilty for just how much waiting you've had to do all year. Waiting for him to go to trial, waiting for him to get out of prison, waiting for him to let you in again.

Waiting, waiting, waiting.

You're waiting again. A Christmas tree that blandly sits empty and undecorated in the corner of your shared apartment; a Christmas roast you aren't sure if you'll even cook takes up too much space in your fridge; gingerbread cookies you promised your friends weeks ago remaining unbaked.

He knew you were upset about it. His Christmas loving girlfriend forced to mute the celebrations of her favourite holiday because he couldn't find it in him to be excited about it.

He didn't know how to fix it, really.

You had tried everything to get him back into the Christmas spirit he's had for the past three years you've spent together. Baking with him, picking out the very Christmas tree that leaves the room smelling like a pine forest together, Christmas shopping for the presents he had no will to buy for his family and friends.

Nothing had worked.

"Spence?"

Sitting awkwardly at his — now — very minimally decorated desk, his head lifts from the papers in front of him, eyebrows frowning towards each other as his eyes land on you.

"Hi," he murmurs, putting the pen in his hand down in an effort to give you his full attention. He was getting better at that, these days.

"I finished dinner," you tell him, fingers fidgeting with one another; a recent habit he had noticed you'd developed in the months between his arrest and release. "If you want to come eat."

He doesn't, but then again, he never does. And despite how awful he feels, he feels even more so for what he's putting you through, and the guilt that chews away at him is enough to will him to do small things — like eating — for you.

"Yeah," he breathes out, and stands up from the desk, following you silently over to the meal sitting at the edge of the kitchen bench you had cooked for the two of you.

Silence overwhelmed you two as you ate, as it usually does. Sitting curled up beside one another on the couch, sharing a blanket and yet still feeling so distant from each other regardless.

"Did you call your mom?" you ask him, and his fork pauses in the plate.

Right. It's Christmas. The time for calling family members and sharing love for them during this supposed to be joyous time.

"Not yet," he shakes his head. "I'll... get to it. Before Christmas is over."

"You have a week," you remind him, though it isn't to be passive aggressive at all. You genuinely wonder if he's forgotten the date of Christmas that has quickly crept up on you both.

"I know."

You stare silently at the coffee table after a short nod to his words, and you wrack your brain for things to say, just to keep him talking.

"Can I give you your gift before Christmas day?"

He lifts his head, and you feel his eyes transfix on you.

"If you want."

You want him to want it too, but you aren't sure if that's a reasonable wish anymore.

"I do," you nod, and quickly finish up your food, before you stand, and leave the room altogether.

He places his plate next to yours on the coffee table — he'd remember to get to cleaning those later — just as you return, a square shaped brown paper gift in your hands, a purple ribbon tied in a bow around it.

"You got me a square?" he asks you, and your heart warms at the teasing tone in his voice. He's trying.

"Open it," you press, instinctively shaking his shoulder with both hands pressed up against it.

"Okay, okay."

He's meticulous in pulling the plain wrapping paper off, and you almost want to open the gift for him.

"Did you make this?" he asks you as he carefully pulls the square apart in front of your eyes, though he does already know the answer before you have a chance to start nodding your head.

A Victorian Puzzle Purse situates delicately in his hands. Hands that pull it apart ever so slowly, taking note of every little drawn and painted detail on the paper, opening it up to a letter that he spent two minutes reading through — confirming that he was not only reading it once through.

"Do you like it?" you ask him, almost hesitantly.

"Victorian Puzzle Purse's were how lovers would communicate for Valentine's day," he says, instead of answering your question directly, as he neatly folds it back up into the intricate origami square it was originally when he pulled it out. "Sorry," he quickly adds, his eyes landing back on you. "That wasn't an answer. I do. I like it a lot."

"I know it isn't much, but I don't want to overwhelm you with gifts this Christmas. I'm honestly not even expecting anything big. We can just order food in and watch movies or something this year, if you'd prefer. You just have to promise me you'll at least let me put mistletoe up outside our bedroom, because it's kind of become tradition and... sorry."

He's staring at you, half dumbfounded, half in awe, as you realise you were rambling instead of sitting in the moment of him enjoying something seasonal, but you can't even find it within yourself to be frustrated at it. For he is letting a small smile grace his lips, and you're leaning forwards with a smile of your own, and for a second or more, he is not the shattered prison man, and you are not his distanced girlfriend.

"You can put mistletoe outside our bedroom," he says, and you're breaking into an even wider grin.

"Really?"

"It's tradition."

You light up enough for there to be no need for a decorated Christmas tree in your apartment anymore, and you're threading your fingers through his hand to drag him up off the couch.

Your gift to him remains on the coffee table as you lead him over to your bedroom door, prompting him to stay still, as you disappear to find the piece of familiar fake greenery.

"Mistletoe!" you present it to him, and he takes it from you habitually, using the pin you also hand him and pinning it above your heads on the doorframe.

"I think we need to buy a new one," he says, hands dropping back by his side. His eyes are trained on you, but your own head is still tilted back, inspecting the faux plant.

"I think we need to buy a real one," you answer conclusively, finally dropping your gaze to him.

"Next year," he confirms. "Tradition complete?"

You shake your head. "The tradition ends with a kiss."

Hesitation follows your words, and you instantly regret them.

It wasn't that you didn't kiss, or weren't intimate in any way. It's simply that it was on occasion now, and almost always motivated by something more important than a silly mistletoe tradition.

"It's okay," you cover your unwelcome disappointment with a smile.

He ignores your reassurance. "It does end in a kiss, you're right."

"But we don't have to," you mumble.

"Yes," his hands encase your waist to do nothing more than to pull you closer to him. "We do."

"Not if you don't want to."

"Did I say that?"

You open your lips to respond, but the words die on your tongue.

"What did I do to make you think I don't want to kiss you, angel?" he's frowning now, and you feel guilt settle in your chest.

"Nothing, really. We just—um—don't kiss... as much. Anymore. Which is fine, by the way, and I can understand it. You're under no moral obligation to kiss me. Obviously."

His frown deepens. "I think we're experiencing a bout of miscommunication."

"What?"

"I thought you didn't want to kiss me," he explains, and suddenly, you're mirroring the confusion on his face.

"Why would I not want to kiss you?" you ask him, incredulously.

His shoulders slump at the question, and you force yourself not to fill the silence that follows.

"Prison," he replies, quietly. "I didn't think you'd really even want me once I got out of prison. You don't initiate anything anymore, either. I just assumed."

"I didn't initiate anything because I was waiting for you to initiate stuff."

"I can see that now."

"I didn't want to rush you," you tell him, as earnestly as possible. "I know prison was a lot, and you still haven't told me everything that happened, but I wanted you to not rush yourself. Or... us, I guess."

He swallows the lump of emotion that lodges in his throat. "I thought you were disappointed in me. Or—well, scared of me."

"No," your heart shatters, and you're sure he can hear it in your voice as your hands instantly cup his cheeks, fingers brushing over his cheekbones. "No, oh my God, Spencer."

"You shouldn't use the lord's name in vain. It's Christmas," he jokes, weakly. The smile you give him is weak, too.

"I was terrified for you. I was so worried about you in prison, and—and what they were doing to you in there. But never of you. Not a single part of me will ever be scared of you, sweet boy."

"I'm scared of me," he whispers, and his voice cracks in a way that has tears welling in your eyes. "I think differently, you know."

"And that automatically means I should be scared of you? Or makes you any less deserving of love?"

His silence is enough of a response.

"I love you," you settle on telling him. "No matter what baggage you came back to me with. You deserve so much love, and I hate that you have been through so much. So much so that you believe yourself undeserving. You are not. You never will be. I will spend the rest of my life proving that to you, if I must. Or as long as you will let me."

"Forever," he replies, and you feel his hands close over your own on his face. "I will let you forever."

"Thank God. It'd be kind of embarrassing if I say all this and then you were to break up with me tomorrow," you say, and his cheeks stretch beneath your hands as he huffs a laugh.

"I won't break up with you."

"I wouldn't let you, anyways."

"Oh really?" his hands slide down to your waist once more.

"Yeah," you confirm with a small nod, your own hands dropping to his neck, interlacing behind it, as you draw his head closer to yours. "You're stuck with me."

"I have not a word of complaint," he replies, and he's close enough that you feel the words tattoo your lips. "I love you."

And then he's kissing you, and there is an overwhelming amount of neglected feelings you had been missing poured into you, from his soul to yours.

It was a kiss so unlike what you had grown used to in recent months. Fingers dug into your waist as a violent reminder of what you mean to him, and for the first time since May, you believed it.

When he goes to pull away, you barely give him time to get air before you're chasing his lips again, and he tugs you impossibly closer with a laugh that vibrates against your face.

You kiss him until your hands go numb behind his neck, and your legs begin to ache, and your waist is sure to have bruised in the shapes of his fingertips. Chest heaving and eyes full of more adoration than you think one human can have for another, you meet his gaze once more.

"Tradition complete."

your reblogs and replies are always appreciated ♡

#lia's advent calendar ♡#lia’s fics ♡#spencer reid #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid fic #spencer reid imagine #spencer x reader #spencer x self insert #spencer reid x reader #criminal minds #criminal minds fic #criminal minds x reader #criminal minds imagine #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid angst #spencer reid x reader angst #spencer reid hurt/comfort #spencer reid x reader hurt/comfort

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lovesturni0l0s · 2 days ago

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FLUFFMAS DAY 21/22: chris realizes he does want to get married

seeing his gf as a bridesmaid makes him realize that maybe getting married wouldn’t be so bad

wc: 1.1k

lmk if u wanna be tagged 🫶🏻

a/n: so sry this didn’t get out yesterday i was super busy 😭

dividers by the lovely @bernardsbendystraws

chris’s POV:

I had never understood the hype around weddings, or even the need for them honestly. It all seemed like too much fuss and stress for one day, and if I wanted to spend the rest of my life with someone I didn’t need to declare it in front of hundreds of people that I didn’t really like.

But when Y/N asked me to be her date to her friend’s wedding, where she was a bridesmaid, I couldn’t say no. Not to her. Even if I didn't enjoy weddings or having to get all dressed up I was gonna go and pretend to have fun because I knew it would make her happy.

On the day of the wedding I showed up to the venue a little early so I could find her before the ceremony began. I texted her telling her where I was so she could come find me, knowing I would get lost looking for her on my own.

“Chris!” I heard her call from behind me and when I turned to her my jaw fell in shock. I had seen her dressed up before but not like this and I was in awe of how gorgeous she looked. I stood frozen, staring at her as she walked up to me laughing, “Hi handsome” she smiled.

“I am the luckiest man alive” I smiled as I gently grabbed her waist, pulling her close to me, “You look absolutely stunning baby.” I smiled at her. “Thank you love” she blushed, “you clean up pretty nice handsome.” She said as she adjusted my tie. “Only for you” I winked, “As much as I would love to stay with your corny ass I do have bridesmaids duties I gotta get to so I’ll see you in a bit.” She said as she kissed me before heading off.

I managed to find a seat with some of Y/N’s friends that I had met a few times and caught up with them while we waited for the ceremony to start. Once the ceremony began my eyes were immediately locked on Y/N as she gracefully walked down the aisle with one of the groomsmen.

She was carrying a small bouquet of flowers in her hand and her smile brightened when we locked eyes across the rows of people. Throughout the entire ceremony my eyes never left her. In their vows the couple talked about their love for each other and how they couldn’t wait for the start of the rest of their lives.

Listening to their vows as I watched Y/N I knew she was it for me, as I saw her smile at her friend, her eyes flicking to mine for a moment, I wondered how I had ever not known I wanted to marry her. She could have a fancy castle wedding with a thousand people if she wanted, and I would be there with a smile on my face, grateful to be loved by her.

We spent the rest of the night dancing and laughing with her friends under twinkly lights that made her eyes glow. “You are so beautiful.” I said quietly as she wrapped her arms around my neck as we swayed to a slow song. “Thank you my love.” She smiled, kissing me gently. Her glowing presence captivated all of my attention.

The next day I found a jewelry store and with the help of her best friend I found a beautiful ring that I hoped she would love. When I came home, the ring tucked in my pocket, she was still asleep in bed. “Morning pretty” I whispered as I laid back down next to her, pushing her hair out of her face.

“Mhm, morning” she whispered, half asleep, “I brought you coffee and your favorite muffin” I smiled, knowing she’d wake up. “Food” she said as she stuck her hand out, eyes still shut, “kiss first” I teased as she slowly opened her eyes. “No gross I have morning breath” she groaned, hiding her face, “and I don’t give a flying fuck” I laughed as I leaned over, kissing her gently before handing her her food.

I laid with her as she slowly woke up, with the help of her coffee and muffin, “We got plans today, I need you to put on one of your pretty sundresses and be ready in two hours.” I told her, “What are we doing?” She asked, “that’s for me to know and you to find out baby.”

Once she was dressed and ready I took her to a secluded spot on the beach, “What are we doing Chris?” She asked, confused. “Well I know the beach is your favorite place so I figured this was the perfect spot” I smiled at her confusion, “perfect spot for what?” She asked, laughing.

“To ask you to spend forever with me” I smiled as I got on one knee, pulling the small velvet box out of my pocket. “Chris?” She said in shock, her hand flying to her face to cover her bright smile.

“Y/N, I have spent the last three years of my life having the pleasure of loving you and being loved by you. You have become my favorite person and everyday I learn something new about you that makes me fall even more in love with you. You are the most beautiful person I’ve ever met, inside and out, and when I saw you standing at that altar yesterday I knew I would be an idiot if I didn’t marry you. Nothing in this world would make me happier than spending the rest of my life with you so Y/N, will you marry me baby?” I asked, smiling up at her through tears.

“Yes! Oh my god! Yes I’ll marry you Chris!” She said as she choked through tears while I slid the ring on her finger, wrapping my arms around her waist as she clung to me. “Oh my god! I love you so much, holy shit!” She laughed in disbelief as I held her tight against me.

Nick, Matt, and her best friend burst into cheers, as she turned to them, smiling in shock. “I knew you wanted someone to take pictures and I figured who better than Nick?” I smiled as she wiped her tears. “I can’t wait to spend the rest of my life with you Chris.” She smiled as I kissed her, her lips pulled up into a smile against mine.

And even though I always said I would never cry at my wedding, when I watched her walk down the aisle towards me, I couldn’t help it .

tags🫶🏻: @bernardsbendystraws @colorthecosmos444 @sturnihoelooo @endereies @matts-myloverboy @hoes4matthew @sturniololuv08 @emely9274 @obsessionsarenotfortheweak @lovergirl4gracieabrams @conspiracy-ash @h3arts4harry @17twelch17 @iluvchriswglasses @prettyybunnyy

#chris sturniolo #christopher sturniolo #chris sturniolo fic #chris sturiolo fanfic #chris sturniolo fluff #chris sturniolo x reader #matt sturniolo #nick sturniolo #mathew sturniolo #nicolas sturniolo #sturniolo triplets #the sturniolo triplets #sturniolos #sturniolo

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sweetestberryofthebunch · 2 days ago

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Give It To Someone Special (Detective!Agnes x f!Reader)

You take your fiancée home before the holidays, but your parents and Agnes have never been on the same wavelength. On the drive back home, you offer her the best remedy to release her tension that you know.

Content/Warnings: Smut, Rough sex, Car Sex, Dom/Sub Dynamic, Age Gap Relationship, Vaginal Fingering, Choking, Spit Play, Degradation kink, They fuck nasty but they really love each other

Thank you so much to @ragnarockz @msharkness @lotsofmilfs for beta reading and helping me get this out in time for the holidays! I appreciate all of you angels so much! ♡

I‘m actually home for Christmas for the first time in years and the amount of time driving around to meet family that finds me odd and off putting inspired me, but like make it horny and enjoyable. My Yuletide Gift, from me to you! Enjoy my loves, happy holidays!

It was raining. Of course it was, you were in early December, and thanks to climate change, Westview barely got an actual white Christmas anymore. Let alone snowy December Days. Driving even further down South to the town your parents lived in certainly hadn’t helped. Miniscule raindrops hit the windshield silently, making the view muddy. The road was concealed by the mist like rain, the cars headlights piercing through just enough to safely follow the path.

Some young pop stars had covered Last Christmas, and the radio played it for the third time today. If dinner had been better, you might have sung along. But, as per usual, bringing Agnes out to see your parents had gone like shit, so you didn’t exactly feel the holiday spirit right now. The rain didn’t exactly help either.

Agnes‘ hair was in a low ponytail, a few strands falling loose around her face, forehead creased stoically as her eyes were fixed on the road. A few days ago, you‘d found the first grey hairs on her head while laying entangled in the morning, pressing little kisses to the crown of her head as she’d frowned and told you to get box dye immediately.

Now, the grey had disappeared between the rich brown of the rest of her hair,. If if you didn’t know you probably wouldn’t even notice them at all. However, the frown on her face remained. Just, it wasn’t her own greys frustrating her anymore. It was your parents. You licked your lips, resisting the urge to reach for her hand. Not while she was driving in weather conditions like this.

„Thank you“, you said instead, breaking the silence that had lingered since you‘dyou'd entered the car in your parents driveway. „For coming with me. I know you don’t exactly get along.“

Her jaw tensed, you could hear the motor give a tiny roar when her foot pressed down on the gas a little harder. You swallowed, eyes focusing back on the dark road before you. The highway was empty this late on a Sunday, especially in this weather. It was early December, most people hadn’t gone to visit family yet. You just liked to get it done early.

„I don’t mind your dad most of the time“, Agnes huffed, knuckles tightening around the steering wheel. „But today … was just uncalled for.“

„What did he say?“, you asked without looking at her, wanting to give her the space to dodge the question if she didn‘t want to talk about it.

„He probably just had too much beer.“, Agnes snarled, but you could tell it still bothered her, „Said the ring you’re wearing is a seal of your fate, that you’ll be in the prime of your life stuck taking care of some bitter old cop. That I‘m stealing your best years and you don’t even realise it.“

You bit the inside of your cheek, anger boiling in the pit of your stomach. „I‘m sorry. He shouldn’t feel entitled to say something like that, alcohol or not. That’s messed up.“

She scoffed, shoulders rolling back. „It’s fine. I know your mom doesn’t like me either.“

„That’s not true“, your tone didn’t even convince yourself. Your mother was better at pretending, but even you knew the smile she put on whenever Agnes and you drove down once or twice a year was a forced one. That she wished the person you brought home was anyone but the rough around the edges woman besides you. Like it was any of her business who made you happy.

Agnes scoffed. „I know she doesn’t show you her brunch friends’ shiny young sons for shits and giggles.“

„Agnes.“

The rain had intensified, thick drops of rain splattering against the windshield. Another roar of the engine. She kept her eyes focused on the road, gripping the steering wheel a lot tighter than she had to. You swallowed.

„You know none of their shit matters, right?“, A heavy sigh left your lips when she wouldn’t even glance at you, „My dad is talking out of his ass and my mother still thinks maybe the whole liking women thing will be over soon, as if we haven’t been engaged for two years now.“

Agnes stayed silent, eyes sternly focused on the dark road, only the sound of raindrops splattering onto the windshield between you. And that cover of Last Christmas, again.

You passed a road sign. A parking lot and a phone cell just a few miles ahead of you.

„Let’s stop there“, you proposed, watching the way Agnes pressed her lips together in a harsh line. „You know I don’t like when you drive angry.“

„I‘m not angry“, she replied immediately, and as if to prove her point, she took her foot off the gas, letting the car slow down a little, „I‘m just … irritated.“

„Either way“, finally, you reached out to her, brushing the few lost strands of hair behind her ear. The gentle touch of your fingertips against her cheek had her exhale immediately, readjusting her grip on the steering wheel. The car did a minimal swirl to the left before she caught herself again and readjusted her position on the road.

You giggled, pulling your hand away, elbows leaning on the middle console as you grinned at her. The tip of your tongue peaked out past your lips, giving her a coy smile. „I think you should take a break to … release some tension anyway.“ Your voice dropped lower when you saw the way her jaw tensed. „And it‘s just us out here tonight.“

At the clearly suggestive tone that swung in your voice, she finally glanced over at you, pupils dark. You shrugged your coat off your shoulders, leaning a little further towards her, eyes batting almost innocently.

Agnes' eyes stared at your lips, your eyes, your shoulder, still covered by a knit sweater, but the lacy strap of your bra peeking out, and then quickly back to the road before you.

She swallowed hard, then scoffed. But the smirk on her lips betrayed her, even as her eyes turned back to the road. Her right hand left the steering wheel to come rest firmly on your thigh, fingers brushing over the fabric of your pants so high up, your breath hitched at the contact. That made her chuckle, a low sound in the back of her throat, and she blinked right to pull over into the parking lot. „Maybe you’re right“, her thumb ran lazily up and down your inner thigh and you felt your stomach tighten at the touch. „A break sounds good right now.“

You were right, the small square of asphalt lay completely abandoned, nothing but a few parking spots and a telephone cell already halfway towards decay. No street lights, no buildings, just Agnes' grey little car alone between fields and meadows, the rain now pouring down against the metal roof.

Agnes put the car into park mode and turned off the radio, right hand never leaving your thigh as she did so, and then took a deep breath, back of her head hitting her seat as she did. She would never admit it, but she wasn’t just frustrated, she was tired too. Exhausted of never being enough to please your parents, of every trip to see them going to shit in some way. There was the little crease between her brows, the one she always got when she worried, when she was questioning herself.

„Baby“, you sighed. Now that you were safely parked, you leaned over the middle console completely and reached for her face with both hands, turning her head to face you. The tips of your fingers ran over her cheekbones, gently cradling her face, and her face immediately softened. Her hands wrapped around your wrists, keeping you close, the tips of your noses mere inches apart from each other.

„I‘m sorry we left on a bad note“, she said, blue eyes warm as she scanned your face, „I know you just want them to be happy.“

You shook your head at that, your thumbs brushing over her bottom lip as you gave her a warm, reassuring smile.

„I‘m sorry we spent your day off driving all the way down there only for dinner to be shit“, you replied, „I want my parents to be happy, but I value your happiness more.“

Her eyes widened, and you watched her pupils dilate at your little smile, which only made you grin brighter. „I mean it.“

Agnes' lips parted and she took a short breath. But before she could say anything else though, you surged forward, cutting her off with your lips on hers. Chapped lips melted against yours, leaning forward to deepen the kiss immediately. Fingers wrapped around the back of your neck to tug you closer, and you had to smile against her. Your teeth brushed against her upper lip and you felt Agnes holding back a little moan against your lips.

„I don’t care what my parents think“, you whispered, cupping her face in your palms. You made sure to look at her while speaking, watching the way her eyes flicked from your lips to your eyes, back to your lips. Your breath was heavy. „I just want you.“

For a moment, you just held eye contact in silence.

Agnes barely smiled, and she wasn’t one to keep her heart on her sleeve either, but you had learned that a lot of her inner world played out right behind her eyes. The way all color seemed to fade from them when she was sad, every little crease of her brow. How bright and wide they turned only when she looked at you.

Your tongue darted out, wetting your bottom lip as she scanned your face, that bright, distant look of almost disbelief on her face. Like she couldn’t wrap her head around the fact that you were real, that you chose to wake up next to her every single day. Like she was trying really hard to focus on what you were saying, but failing miserably.

A calloused thumb ran along your jaw, gentle like you were something delicate to be handled with care.

„You’re too good to me“, she murmured, and your own hand found hers, clasping around the pale skin, her fingers flexing in your grip.

„And you’re still way too tense“, you whispered, watching her eyes widen as you lead her thumb up and over your chin, grazing your bottom lip. Her eyes were firmly focused on the tip of her thumb, and you couldn’t help but grin before pushing it up further, lips parting to slip the single digit inside.

Agnes sucked in a sharp breath, watching the way your lips closed around her finger like it was some kind of mysterious sorcery, like she’d never seen it before. You had to withhold a smirk, tongue swirling around the tip of her thumb playfully, cheeks hollowing out as you made a show out of it. Agnes' other hand on the back of your neck tightened its grip, grasping at your soft hairs there.

Your eyes fluttered shut as you let out a soft moan, like her thumb pressing down onto your tongue was the most delicious thing you‘ve ever tasted. It was. Your stomach did a little flip at the taste, and a part of you wanted her to push more fingers past your lips, until you were gagging on her.

When she pulled out eventually, thumb now glistening wet, your mouth still parted as you blinked up at her with a smirk, you could swear you saw her tremble a little.

Agnes was fidgeting around in her seat, her eyes dark as she licked her lips, gaze heavy with arousal.

She kissed you again, firmly, one hand finding your shoulder and holding you in place, the other on your cheek, her wet thumb leaving a thin trail of your saliva on your skin. It made your insides feel like they were burning up.

„I really want to eat you out right now“, you gasped into her mouth, barely holding back the breathless giggle that accompanied your words. Her grip in your shoulder tightened, fingers digging into your skin.

„Way too good to me“, Agnes purred, her gaze heavy, fingers hot on your skin. Your lips were parted in a slight pant. Your thighs pressed together where you were still halfway sitting in your seat, halfway draped over the middle console to be as close to her as possible. Agnes glanced down at you, cheeks hot and lips swollen from kissing, your eyes dark and pupils round, practically begging her for more. Her own face was flushed too, and her breath had picked up, taking sharp breaths through her nose.

„Backseat“, she ordered, her tone leaving no room for discussion. Not that you had any intention to disobey. „Now.“

You jumped out of your seat and into the rain faster than you thought you were even able to move.

But, Agnes was still faster. She leapt around the car, pried the backseat door open, and before you even knew what was happening, your back hit the hard cushions. She was on top of you, crowding you up in the limited space of her car, slamming the door behind her shut with a little more force than necessary. She was straddling your hips, eyes now black with lust as she stared down at you. Even though you’d only been in the rain for a few seconds, wet strands of hair were already sticking to her forehead, and she wiped them back with one hand, the other finding your chest, pinning you down against the car seats.

„You’re wet“, she stated, and when a whine left your throat in response, paired with a twitch of your hips underneath her. She let out a hollow laugh. „I meant your shirt, slut.“

Your lips curled into a pout and her hand on your chest grabbed a fistful of your wine red sweater. She leaned down towards you, propping herself up with her other hand, until her face was mere inches from yours. You craned your neck, trying to catch her lips with yours, but she was just out of reach, her smile smug as she tugged harder on your sweater, exposing your midriff. A breathy whine escaped your throat, met by an evil chuckle.

„Not so assertive now, huh?“, her brows raised almost mockingly and for a moment, she just enjoyed watching you struggle underneath her, unable to push up against her grip on your jumper, helplessly wiggling underneath where she had you pinned. It was utterly pathetic, and by the way her breath came ragged, it was exactly what she wanted. Keeping you pinned down by your chest, she rolled her hips down into yours exactly once, the rough fabric of her jeans pushing against your softer, loose fitting slacks.

„Agnes please“, you whined at the contact, staring up at her through heavy lids. Heat was pooling in your stomach, you knew that your underwear must already be absolutely soaked, and you wanted nothing more than for her to just press her knee up against your core, to grind down against her until you were in tears from how good it would feel.

For a moment, she seemed to actually consider it. Then, she readjusted her position, sitting back up. At the loss of her closeness you almost cried out in frustration.

But her gaze was stern, so you didn’t dare to just yet.

„Arms up“, she instructed, eyes twinkling even in the dark at your eagerness.

You put your hands up over your head willingly, allowing her to quickly pull the knit sweater up and off, leaving you in just a thin black bralette, goosebumps rising on your skin. The moment the jumper was over your head, her lips found yours in a bruising kiss. One of her hands found your wrists and immediately pinned them over your head, the other one found your ribs, tips of her fingers running over your exposed skin. When you gasped at the contact, she took the opportunity to slip her tongue past your lips, smirking against you at the mewl in the back of your throat. The muscle ran over your teeth, pushing your own tongue aside as she explored your mouth, claiming each and every inch as her own in the process. Her hand ran over the flimsy lace of your bralette, and the little squeeze to one of your breasts made you squeak into her mouth.

“Worked up already?“, her voice had dropped low, that mocking tone she loved to taunt you with. A thumb ran over the curve of your breast, self satisfaction painting her face when she found your nipple already hard peaking through the thin fabric. She ran her index and middle finger over it, pressing down right into the hard bud just once. Hot pleasure surged through your body and your chest pushed up into her touch, the mewl escaping your lips loud and desperate.

„You know“, her hand wandered further up, over your collarbone. The tip of her finger ran over it asshe licked her lips. Like she was already planning how to devour you, how she was going to paint your delicate skin in shades of purple.

She was watching the way you were trembling under her touch, trying so hard to stay still. Fingers wandered up your throat, finally clasping around your neck, her grip firm but not yet tight. Agnes leaned down, voice ghosting so close to your ear you could feel her lips move against it. „If you just wanted me to fuck you in the backseat, you could’ve just asked.“

A moment of silence. Then you felt the tip of her tongue dart out, running along the shell of your ear. Hot breath right against it. „Next time we can skip the entire dinner and just go straight to this.“

Finally, her legs shifted, her knee pushing between your thighs. Your legs parted willingly, mouth opening in a gasp. Her fingers tightened around your neck, and the mix of finally feeling something push up against your aching cunt and the sudden lack of oxygen made your head spin. Agnes knew how to make you melt into nothing but a boiling hot puddle beneath her.

Agnes’ voice was still right by your ear, though she was leaning towards your face now, watching every muscle shift in reaction to her touch.

„You think you can cum like this?“, she taunted, „With me merely touching you?“

You nodded frantically, eyes wide with eagerness. Agnes scoffed, „Didn’t take you for such a needy slut, but alright.“ Without warning, her knee pushed up hard against you, and the squeak you let out was high pitched and throaty, weak through her firm hold on your neck. The older woman raised her brows expectantly, „Show me, and maybe I‘ll fuck you properly after.“

There were lawyers of fabric between you, and it shouldn’t work as well as it did, but God, you could not get enough. Your underwear was soaked, sticking to your core, and if you rolled your hips just right, angled yourself with just the slightest arch of your back, your clit brushed against her knee just right. So that was exactly what you did, grinding down into her, trying desperately to push closer as she kept your wrists pinned above your head with one hand, and your throat tightly gripped by the other. Piercing blue eyes stared down at you, taking in every single rut of your hips, every gasping attention to grasp for air, the flush of your face, your eyes fluttering open and closed as you worked yourself against her, steady and unwavering even in your compromising position. It was a borderline pathetic sight, and she couldn’t get enough of it. She needed to watch you fall apart like this, needed you to come undone on the brink of consciousness. She needed to see you in absolute ruin, from barely any stimulation at all. So you did.

You lost your sense of orientation, no way to tell where was up and down. Stars danced before your eyes, black spots mixing in with them over the blurry view of her face hovering over you. Hot white, spots of black, bright blue. Your eyes fluttered shut, but the view remained. Hips pressing down hard against her knee, picking up their pace as much as you could. Or maybe the sudden flashes of almost painful pleasure just came naturally, you genuinely couldn’t tell. But the soaked cotton of your underwear rubbed against your aching clit, pulsating with want as you chased more and more of it.

„That’s it“, the only clear sensation flooding your mind was her voice, so close to your ear, ringing through your head, „You look absolutely wrecked, my love.“

Hot, wet lips against the shell of your ear. A moan tried to escape your throat, but no sound could make it past the vice grip she had on your throat.

You felt scathing hot beneath her, burning up from the inside out, pleasure overtaking every last nerve end of your body. Finally, it all came crashing down. Your core pressed against her knee, not even rutting against her anymore, just pushing up as close as you could as a wave of heated, explosive euphoria shot up your spine. Your body was shaking, there was no up or down, left or right. There were just colors dancing before your eyes as your mouth fell open, no scream able to push past her tight hold and the pulsating of your aching clit as the orgasm took over all of your senses.

The grip on your throat disappeared, and your lungs rapidly filled with air in a loud, deep groan. Agnes’ lips attached to the side of your neck, nipping and kissing along the reddened skin, feeling the deep, slow breaths you took as slowly, your vision cleared and you felt the cushions beneath you again.

She released your wrists still pinned to the car door over your head as well, and your hands immediately found her hair, tugging her up towards your lips. She kissed you softly, making sure you could still breathe through it.

You wanted to moan into it, her name right on your lips, but no sound could make it past your throat, the strain settling in. Agnes' tongue darted out against your bottom lip, and you let her enter, hands running down her front. Your fingers dug into the washed out fabric of her flannel shirt, pulling her closer by it. Your legs, still shaking from the ragged orgasm prior loosely wrapped around her hips, holding her as close to you as possible.

The kiss turned heated again, and you felt your sense of up and down slip away. But she pulled away before you could fully lose yourself in the feeling again, leaning back enough to take you in before her. Your neck raw and bruised, painted by choking marks from her hands, a few blooming kisses peppered between them, the ghosting remnants of her teeth against your jaw. She loved to paint you hers, the view of her mark on you unlocking a feral, deep lust in her, a need to claim you and your pleasure as hers. To let everyone who laid eyes upon you know that she was the one touching you, that she was willing to do anything to make you feel good. And the things she did to you, even in the back of your car in the middle of nowhere on a mid December night … it should embarrass you, but something inside you twisted the humiliation into fuel for the fire inside you. Your legs twitched.

„Agnes“, you managed to croak out, surprised by how hoarse your own voice was, the single word barely making it past your lips.

Her brow raised, „What?“

Instead of an answer, you just tilted your head back, lips parting. Your tongue darted out, flat as your gaze found hers, a silent plea. Agnes' eyes turned black, her fingers digging into your waist harder. But, of course, your wish was granted.

Agnes strained her neck, jaw tightening at the movement. She was leaning over you, dark eyes never breaking contact with yours as a single string of saliva left her lips, dropping right onto your waiting tongue. Your eyes fluttered shut, lips closing around it as you savoured her spit like an expensive, rare fruit. With heavy eyes you stared at her from beneath your lashes as you swallowed, wincing at the slight pain the motion sent through your neck.

„Jesus fuck“, Agnes voice was low, nails digging into your waist, and your legs wrapped tighter around her at the sharp pain.

„If you could see yourself right now“, Agnes groaned, „So fucked out … and I haven’t even touched you yet.“

She surged back down, lips crashing into yours, and you managed to actually slip an audible moan past your throat this time, arms wrapping around her neck as you let her tongue lap into your mouth.

„Flip over“, she panted, words mere inches from your own lips, before propping herself up enough to give you some movement space, „On your hands and knees.“

Wriggling into the new position proved slightly difficult in the small space, but eventually you made it. On all fours, you cowered in front of her, Agnes forced to be halfway draped over your body with the low ceiling of the car. One hand wrapped around your waist, pulling you flush against her before reaching up to brush your hair over your shoulder. Warm lips ghosted over the back of your neck, trailing downward between your shoulder blades.

„You okay?“, she grumbled, lips vibrating against your skin and you gave a quick nod.

Her lips attached to your back again, this time more urgently, sucking your skin between her teeth, the pain minimal but delicious.

Her other hand dove into your pants, brushing over your tailbone before dipping lower. She gave your ass a little squeeze, grunting into your neck at the feeling of your soft flesh in her palm. Her knuckles ran over your asshole on their way further down, and you jumped at the unexpected contact, making her chuckle.

„Now, now“, she just as much purred into your ear, „Don’t get greedy“, teeth nipped at your earlobe, „I‘m saving that one for another time.“

Your breath hitched, pushing back into her touch as her hand ran lower, down the curve of your ass and then finally, the tips of her fingers dipped between your folds.

She hissed at the contact feeling not just how hot you were but also the amount of slick that covered your core, absolutely soaking your underwear that she’d pushed past so easily.

„You are so wet“, she hummed, pressing a kiss to the sensitive spot right below your ear, „How embarrassing.“

Her index and middle finger swirled around your entrance, collecting liquid pleasure along their way. Your hips bucked back into her touch almost all on their own, and you heard her tut.

„Don’t get impatient now.“

For a moment, her touch was gone, and all you felt was the stretch of your cotton panties as she pulled her hand away. The lining sat just over your clit, and maybe if you rolled your hips just right …

Agnes let out an evil little laugh. „God, you’re so fucking pathetic.“

And then, without any warning or preparation, she plunged right in. Two digits slid right inside with little to no resistance, and the sudden intrusion made you jump, the moan on your lips shaking your entire body.

„Agnes fuck!“

She did not waste any time easing you into it, thrusting into you at a rapid pace, her hips pressed firmly against your ass. Your fingers dug into the fabric of the car seat underneath you, back arched like a cat to take her as deep as possible.

Once she was sure your position was stable enough, her other hand let go of your waist. Before you knew it, her fist curled into your hair, yanking your head back. You yelped at the unexpected tug, gasping for air as a hot, tingling sensation slowly crept up your entire body.

Her fingers drilled into you mercilessly, other hand pulling your head back by your hair. The tug was harsh at your roots, a sharp pain shooting through your skull that mixed deliciously with the way her fingers brushed over your walls, sliding in and out with no resistance.

„Agnes“, you mewled, eyes rolling back in your skull. The fist in your hair gripped harder.

„What, slut?“, she spat, fingers never breaking their brutal rhythm.

„Please“, was all you managed to reply. But of course, that wasn’t enough.

„Please, what?“ Her tone was harsh, and if it wasn’t for her grip on your hair, your head would have fallen forward in frustration.

“Make me cum“, you groaned, throat burning. You pushed your hips down into her hand, your entire body shaking as her fingers brushed over that one spot that made you see stars. „Like that“, you rasped, not caring for your voice anymore, so lost in the mix of pain and pleasure, all you needed was to reach that peak, and then come crashing down rapidly.

„Don’t stop Agnes, oh god— please don’t stop! I‘m gonna—“

And then you crashed. Her fingers drilled into you relentlessly, hitting the right spot with every thrust. The wet fabric of your panties still clung to your pulsating clit, and you could feel the way she pushed her own hips against the curve of your ass, felt her ragged breath against your back. For a moment, everything turned into singing, burning hot pleasure.

Your limbs gave out beneath you and you collapsed forward onto the seat. However, before your forehead could hit the car door right in front of you, Agnes' arm had wrapped around your waist already, interrupting your fall before gently laying you down on the cushions. Your breaths came ragged, panting loudly, throat still aching, your body numb from sheer overwhelming pleasure, tears stinging in your eyes.

But Agnes was right there. Her hand slipped out of your pants, running up your spine to brush your hair out of your face, a gentle kiss finding your cheek, arms wrapped around you firmly enough to keep you grounded, but not so tight that you could feel smothered. Slowly, your breath evened, craning your neck carefully, just enough to glance back at her.

„Fuck“, you sighed, sweat glistening on your brow.

Agnes chuckled. „What, you’re done already?“ Her hand brushed a few strands of hair from your forehead, stuck to the layer of sweat on your skin, „I thought you were gonna eat me out back here“

Still catching your breath, you shook your head at her. „Not after that I‘m not“, your voice was hoarse, throat still a little tight and you‘d definitely feel sore tomorrow morning. „I can barely breathe.“

Her thumb slid underneath your chin, tilting your face upwards to look directly at her. „Are you okay, darling? Did I go to hard?“

Slowly, as to not strain your neck any further, you shook your head. „I promise I‘d tell you if you did.“

Her eyes scanned your face for any signs of pain, but when all you did was give her a gentle smile, she nodded. „Let’s lay you down for a moment," she whispered, leaning forward. Her lips pressed against your forehead for a soft, lingering kiss, “I could use a breather myself.“

You were laying on your back, head in her lap, the blanket she kept in the back of the car for emergencies draped over your body, your hands holding one of hers, gently running your fingertips up and down her calloused palm. The movement came to a halt when she felt the metal of your ring brush against her skin, the rough edges of the little polished amethyst on the band. Her hand clasped around yours, warm skin against skin.

„We should pick a date soon“, she whispered suddenly, and your eyes fluttered open, already half asleep in your exhausted state.

„Hm?“

She leaned forward, nose brushing against the shell of your ear before pressing a single, small kiss to your cheek. „We should get married next summer“, she whispered, ponytail falling over her shoulder. Your heart skipped a beat.

„I‘ve already made you wait too long," Agnes murmured, forehead resting against yours.

You stretched your free arm over your head, blinking up at her, eyes bright in the half dark of the car.

„I‘d like that“, you whispered back, voice growing hoarse from the strain your earlier actions had put on your vocal cords. „Maybe Lilia could officiate. And we’d have a bonfire in the backyard. I‘d wear a flower crown. Jen could do my makeup.“ You sounded drowsy, half asleep but still smiling, the vision clear before your eyes, cheeks warm at the thought.

Agnes looked at you for a moment, and her face was soft. No crease on her forehead from constant frowning, no furrowed brows. Her lips were swollen from kissing you so hard, and they were slightly parted when she leaned in, a slow, gentle press of her lips against yours.

„I love you“, she murmured, and you felt her arms wrap tighter around you. „And promise we‘ll make our day the most special day it can be. But Jen is not touching my wife at my wedding. You’re beautiful as is. Jen should feel lucky that she’s invited.“ You rolled your eyes at her, pulling her into another kiss by the back of her neck. She let you, leaning down to brush her lips gently against yours.

The Radio played that stupid song again. This time, it made you smile, whether you wanted it to or not.

„Merry Christmas“, you whispered against her lips, and she pulled back in surprise. For a moment, she stared down at you in disbelief, like she was waiting for a punchline of some sort. But at your sheepish little grin, she just rolled her eyes with affection.

„Merry Christmas to you too, my love.“

#berry writes things #agatha all along #agatha harkness #agatha harkness x reader #agnes of westview #agnes o'connor #Agnes o‘connor x reader #aaa #Marvel #wandavision #mcu

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tkwrites · 2 days ago

Text

Soft Launch; Hard Launch - Quinn Hughes x ofc

gif from @kawhh

Title: Soft Launch; Hard Launch: A 500 Follower Celly

Author: Tory / @tkwrites

Relationship: Quinn Hughes x Sarah Roberts (ofc)

Warnings: Though most of this is fluff, there is a really nasty comment left on a social media post and mentions of poor self body image.

Summary: 4 times Quinn soft launched his relationship with Sarah, and one time he did it for real.

Word Count: 2,900

Comments: The idea of writing a 4+1 fic for my 500 mark has been rolling around my head for a while, so when I hit 500 followers about a week ago, I thought I'd try my hand at it. Many thanks to @aloragrace and @captainlexaproluvr for looking over this piece and calming my fears about doing new things. I’ve never written in this format before, but I quite like the way this turned out. I’d love to know what you think!

I'm just bowled over and so excited! Thank you all so much. Knowing people enjoy my writing has been so fulfilling to me. I’ve wanted to write since I was about thirteen, but never had the guts to publish anything for people other than my friends to read. Now that I have and know that people like it, it feels a bit like I’m giving my little inner awkward teenager the best gift she could ever ask for. Thank you for your encouragement, kindness, and support! I can’t tell you how much it means to me.

If you did enjoy this Snapshot, please let me know by commenting, reblogging, or sending in an ask. Your encouragement and comments truly inspire me to keep writing.

Soft Launch; Hard Launch: A 500 Follower Celly

A Quinn & Sarah Snapshot

The first time Quinn put Sarah on his social media was after they got home from the family reunion. The Monday after she left, he was looking back through his photos while he waited for her to get off work. He found one from their beach day he’d completely forgotten he’d taken. Sarah was kneeling over a tide pool with a few of his cousins, pointing to something in the water, while they looked into her face with rapt attention.

Even though her face was mostly hidden from view, she looked beautiful in that casual way he loved so much. Her hair was up in a bun, and she was wearing a pair of denim shorts along with her orange swim top.

Do you mind if I put this on my stories? he asked later that night, once she'd texted that she’d arrived home safely and would call as soon as she changed.

“I don’t mind,” she told him after they said their initial hellos, caught up on each other's day, and he asked again. “I’m a little surprised this is the first photo you want to go with,” she admitted.

“Why?”

“I don’t know. I thought maybe you’d want to go with something more…” she trailed off, unsure exactly how to phrase what she was thinking. She’d only glanced at it, but from what she remembered, the photo wasn’t anything special. It was from the tide pools, and though it fulfilled the mission of showing her without showing her whole face, she didn’t look excessively beautiful or anything. In fact, the first thing she’d zeroed in on were her stomach rolls. Echoes of girls calling her too fat to be with NHL superstar Quinn Hughes rang in her mind.

“I like it,” he defended before she could find the right words or slide down the slippery slope of body image woes. “You’re doing what you love.”

It melted something in her that he looked at that photo and saw her passion. “That’s really sweet, Quinn.”

“So it’s okay?”

How could she say no now? “Yeah. It’s okay.” She reminded herself she wouldn’t see any of the things people were saying about her unless she sought them out, which she had no intention of doing.

He put it up with nothing more than an orange heart in the corner as soon as they hung up from the FaceTime call.

Less than a minute later, Eunice raced into Sarah's room. She was so overly excited, she ran into the door jam, bouncing off of it before regaining her balance. She thrust her phone into Sarah's face. “Quinn put you on his stories!”

Glancing at the screen, Sarah smiled. “Yeah, he just asked me if he could put that photo up.”

“Oh my god. This is so dreamy,” she gushed, turning the phone back around to look at the picture again. “You look so pretty.”

The second soft launch was on his main feed at the end of the summer, though he still didn’t show her face.

It wasn’t until they got home from Hawaii and all shared their photos that Quinn realized just how many pictures his mom had taken. He was used to her snapping pictures of them - it was a very common occurrence to look around at any given moment, especially on vacation, to find her brandishing a camera to document everything she could.

He’d never appreciated it more until he was looking through the shared album and saw all the moments his mom caught. There were photos of him and his brothers and him and Sarah once she got there. There was even a video of his and Luke’s shock at their girlfriends’ arrival.

His favorite picture she took was from the beach outside of their vacation rental. Anxious for a quiet moment together, Sarah pulled him outside to watch the sun set.

The rest of the family was inside, debating something about dinner. They had been on a kayak and hiking tour that day, and he was so tired, he was beyond caring. As long as some kind of food was provided, he’d be fine.

His mom must have walked out onto the back porch to snap the photo.

The sun, sinking into the ocean in front of them, turned them into shadow as Sarah leaned her head on his shoulder. It was the kind of photo people put in vacation advertisements, and when he’d seen it, he knew it had to be included in his end of summer review.

He uploaded it with a carousel of six other photos before captioning the post, One for the books.

After receiving sixty notifications in the first five minutes, most of them from people he didn’t know asking who the girl in the 5th photo was, he muted the app.

It wasn’t until he looked at the comments that evening and saw, I think this must be that fat bitch he was dating during the season. I was hoping they’d broken up since he didn’t stay in Vancouver this summer and she did, that he disabled comments all together.

He’d been so angry that someone who didn’t know either of them would say anything like that, he had drafted a reply before realizing he was about to engage in a reactionary argument with someone he didn't even know or have any emotional ties to. He wanted to correct them, but knew he should really get PR help to do that.

When they talked about social media for the first time in their relationship, Sarah explained how the comments from these so-called fans made her feel. Even though she knew they didn’t know her as a person and didn’t have any place in their relationship or lives, it was difficult not to let them get to her.

He knew the feeling well. He’d gone through the same thing when he accepted the captaincy. The pressure to perform had been so immense, it had turned him into a snappy, short-fused, irritable person until, at the advice of some other captains in the league, he started putting his phone down regularly.

The third came when it was his turn to sit for a 32 Thoughts podcast episode with Elliott and Kyle, and they were shooting the breeze before the actual interview began.

“We missed you at dinner,” Elliott said, referencing a banquet that the league had hosted the night before for all players and press on site for the whirlwind pre-season media tour.

Without really thinking about it, Quinn found himself explaining, “my girlfriend's family lives here, so Jack and I had dinner with them last night.”

“She's not here?” Elliott asked.

“No, she has stuff going on back home so she couldn't be, but it was nice to see them.” Some players brought family to the media tour, but not many. It was a short stint, shorter than most road trips during the season, so most didn’t bother.

Their producer, Shanna, flashed a red light, letting them know it was time to start the formal interview. Kyle counted down, “three two and one,” before introducing Quinn and starting with the questions.

At the end of the recording, both Elliott and Shanna asked if he wanted them to cut his talk about his girlfriend and her family from the episode. Usually, they left those anecdotal conversations in, especially on the youtube videos, but this one was a bit more nuanced.

“I think it should be fine, but can I talk to her about it and get back to you?”

“Of course,” Shanna said, smiling. “It’s not slated to go up for a few weeks, so just let us know by the 17th.”

When he'd asked Sarah about it that night after arriving home, she seemed unconcerned.

“I think that's kind of up to you.” She knew from their FaceTime conversation the night before that Quinn, Jack and their agent had eaten at Rachel's house, so there was no risk of someone posting photos and making the connection they were with her family.

“I mean, people have been speculating you have a girlfriend, right?” she asked.

“Yeah.” It was more than speculation at this point - most people knew he had someone. They just didn’t know who she was.

“And people who found my instagram already know I’m from Nevada, so I don’t really see what the worry is.”

He’d expected her to be more worried about it, but now that she was responding to him with cool logic, he had to admit she had a point.

The next day, he messaged Elliott along with his agent to let them know they could keep the anecdote in the recording.

When it hit the airwaves, Sarah purposefully didn’t check any of the messages Eunice sent her for a few days. Eunice had taken it upon herself, and continued at Sarah’s request, to report big gossip to her so Sarah wasn’t tempted to go on the blogs or fan accounts.

Most responses were sort of victorious bragging, posting about connections with Sarah’s instagram “about me” section where she talked about being from Nevada, feeling that this interview proved them right.

The fourth time wasn’t planned.

When Quinn got home from their first regular season road trip, the apartment was dark. It was past two in the morning, and Sarah had a therapy appointment at eight, so she hadn't waited up for him.

In his trek through the apartment, he paused by the dining room table. Until Sarah moved in, walking into the apartment after a road trip was often the worst part of the whole thing. He was always glad to be back in his own bed, but nothing seemed to exasperate his singleness more than coming home. Not only was he going from being surrounded by the team to being totally alone, he was coming home to an empty house. The combination of the two felt stiflingly lonely.

The mess of textbooks, highlighters, and notebooks left out on the dining room table was such proof of someone else living in the house, it made his chest feel full.

In a spur of the moment act, he snapped a picture of the dimly lit chaos and posted it to his Instagram stories. No caption, no explanation. Just the simple proof that he wasn't alone.

“Why did you put a picture of my books on your instagram?” she asked the next day after getting home from her appointment.

He shrugged, “I liked it.”

The season before, anytime she would study at his house, she would clean everything up, organizing it all back into her bag before going home or coming to bed.

Now, her books often stayed out on the dining room table on weekends. He offered to convert one of the spare bedrooms into an office for her, or let her use the office he had a computer in now, but she turned him down.

“I like studying out here,” she'd said, glancing up to look out of the windows. “If it bothers you, I can put everything away.”

“It doesn't bother me,” he'd said, leaning down to kiss her temple. “I just want you to be comfortable here.”

She had beamed at him and turned her head to brush her mouth over his.

Quinn waited until the one year anniversary of the day he and Sarah met to officially announce their relationship.

He knew by that time that they could go the distance. He'd seen her through every month and every season and saw no major red flags. Not to mention the fact that everyone in his life liked her, and her family and friends seemed to like him.

Over the course of the year, he'd moved pictures he liked of Sarah and pictures he liked of them together into a favorites album he simply called S. So, in late January, he put together a post and sent it to his PR rep to look over. After they sent it back with some edits, he showed it to Sarah.

Sarah, who for her part, knew this was coming but wasn’t quite sure what to expect, was taken a bit off guard. She knew Quinn read a lot and was thoughtful with his words, but reading his simple summary of their relationship made her melt.

He’d included 5 pictures of her that were interspersed with 5 pictures of them together. The first photo was that perfect, golden hour sunset selfie. The rest were all photos she knew he loved. She’d seen some of them, and some of them, she hadn’t. There was a candid shot of her laughing with Jack and Luke that she hadn’t seen before as well as a picture she never knew he’d taken of her sitting at the dining room table with her laptop, looking pensively at the screen, fingers poised to type. There was the photo of them in front of their Christmas tree, and one of them laughing so hard, they were falling all over each other on a beach in Hawaii.

Under the photos, he’d simply written, The best year. and tagged her in the final photo - the dreamy picture Kaitlyn had taken of them under the mistletoe.

“Quinn,” she breathed, looking up to find him smiling expectantly at her.

“You like it?” he asked.

“I really like it,” she said, fighting back the tears that pushed at her eyes.

“You’re sure you’re okay with this?”

He was ready for the world to know that not only was he taken, he was taken with her, and not afraid to say it, but he knew it would likely open up another door of criticism she’d never been exposed to before.

“Yeah,” she said, nodding. “I’m ready.”

The fact that Quinn wanted the world to know, without a doubt, that she was the one he was with made her heart race.

They didn’t have to hide anymore. To her, it was the last, final cementing block in their relationship. It spoke of his faith in their future and his dedication to staying with her. He wouldn't put it out for the world to see if he had any doubts.

He posted it right before practice two days later so he could work the anxiety of it off.

When he got back to his locker an hour and a half later, he had 1,654 likes and over 200 comments. At first glance, they all seemed positive. Not that what random strangers thought of him meant much, but it was nice to know his fans were happy he was happy.

Bonus scene:

On the afternoon of the anniversary of their one year of meeting, Reece stopped Sarah as she walked into the building after work.

“I’ve got a delivery for you, Ms. Roberts,” he said, walking with her over to the security desk.

Before he’d even picked them up, Sarah knew it must be the large bouquet of flowers that were an absolute riot of color - purple and yellow, red and pink, white and green.

Quinn was out of town - playing in Toronto at that very moment, in fact - and she knew he must have sent them in place of being there in person.

“Thank you, Reece,” she said, accepting the flowers and a card from him before heading upstairs.

Trying to manage the vase, card, and her school bag, as well as press the button in the elevator, resulted in her accidentally slopping a large amount of water down her front. Thankfully, the large bouquet hid the spill from anyone else in the elevator, and she was the only one to get off on the top floor. Upon entering the apartment, she set the vase and card on the bar and went straight up to change.

It wasn’t until she wandered down to make dinner during the second intermission and saw the bright flowers that she remembered the card.

Her full name was on the envelope in someone else’s writing, and the front of the card was completely blank, so when she flipped it open, she was surprised to find Quinn’s handwriting filling most of it.

It’s been one year since I took refuge in the aquarium, only to stumble upon a beautiful woman giving a talk about octopus and took the chance to ask her out. Back then, I just thought she was one of the most beautiful people I’d ever seen. Now I know that not only is she beautiful, she’s smart, kind, supportive and so driven she inspires me to do better. I don’t like to think what my life would be like if she’d turned down my offer for lunch, or I didn’t get up the guts to talk to her. This time with her has been a whirlwind and the best year of my life.

I wrote this for the caption of the post that went up today, then realized the only person I really wanted to read it was you.

Happy one year of meeting, Sarah. I’m so glad you took a chance and went out with me even though I was more than a little awkward.

I love you.

Love,

Quinn

Moved to tears by his thoughtful words, Sarah snapped a picture of the flowers to put up on her stories, adding the caption, Love you, @_quinnhughes, before texting him.

I love you. I can’t believe it’s been a year. Here’s to a million more.

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