#quick silver request | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

ellecdc · 2 months

Note

Can i request something bit angsty? 🥺 its totally fine if you dont wanna write it tho!

I was thinking, wolfstar x reader got into an argument and reader started to occlude and the boys got scared they might be out of line bcs she only occlude when shes really hurting?

this is my SHIT - love me some hurt/comfort. thanks for requesting, lovie 🫶

poly!wolfstar x fem!readerCW: hurt/comfort, arguing, mention of past family discourse, toxic family memories

“I’m sorry. You did what?” Sirius beseeched, walking into the living room from the kitchen and interrupting the points (arguments) you and Remus were each in the process of making. You gave him an unimpressed look, knowing he wasn’t actually asking you to repeat yourself, he just couldn’t believe what he had heard.

“She gave Mary-Ella over a grand.” Remus muttered bitterly.

“I did not give Mary-Ella money, I loaned her money.” You were quick to correct.

Sirius just scoffed. “Sure you did, dollface.” He sneered, making his usual pet-name burn to the touch. “You are never going to see that money again.”

“What were you thinking?” Remus implored.

“I was thinking that my friend was in a bind and needed help. I hardly think that’s a crime.”

“You didn’t just loan a little bit of money, though. You loaned a lot of money to a friend who is not reliable in the slightest.” Remus asserted.

“We have been working so hard trying to save up to move. To move closer to Diagon Alley so that Remus can be closer to work, and we can finally get out of my uncles flat.” Sirius added.

“I know we’ve been working hard, Sirius. I know this because I too have been working hard. But I’m not going to watch my friend struggle when there’s something I could do to help!”

“This choice impacted all of us. You had no right to make this decision on your own.”

It was your turn to scoff as you turned to glare at Remus incredulously. You had been trying to stay patient, knowing that this close to the moon, Remus was feeling extra sensitive. But him ganging-up on you with Sirius quickly found what little patience you had running thin. “I 'had no right' to make a decision about money that I made on my own?”

“You have no ground to stand on, buttercup. You’re now out more than a grand because of this choice; we’re all out more than a grand because of your choice.” Sirius growled, tone full of derision.

“If the roles were reversed, Mary-Ella would help me out!” You tried to reason, only for Remus to bark a laugh.

“That doesn’t even matter, dove. Because you’d never be in her position and likewise, she’d never be in yours. She’s irresponsible, unreliable, and a mooch.”

You tried to ignore the burning sensation in your sinuses as you spoke to the back of Remus’ head; he apparently had grown so disgusted with you that he couldn’t even look at you anymore.

“I don’t like you talking about my friends like that. I don’t understand why we’re making such a big deal about this, I jus-” but you were cut off as Remus stood abruptly and turned on you.

“We’re making this a big deal because it is a big deal!” he bellowed. “You leave this apartment in the morning and it’s like Sirius and I don’t exist anymore. You conduct yourself like some single woman with no responsibility to anyone else but herself.”

“You’re being selfish. You can’t possibly expect to drop a bomb on us like this and, what, expect us to just reply with ‘yes dear’? You fucked up, Y/N.” Sirius added, arms crossed defensively over his chest and cold silver eyes glared daggers that permeated your entire being. Remus carried on, unperturbed by the effects this conversation was having on you.

You felt like you were seventeen again, like you were eleven, nine, six. You felt like a babe whose hand had been slapped for reasons beyond your comprehension.

Do you ever stop and think about the consequences, Y/N?

You were sitting at the dining room table as your father lashed you with his words, each sentence punctuated with the slamming of his fists on the table. You were standing on the platform having just reunited with your parents after the school year as your mother’s claws dug into your arms, warning you that punishment was to come later if you didn’t smarten up. You were cowering in the backyard as your father screamed at you in front of the entire neighbourhood – a free show for all to enjoy.

You think crying will earn you any sympathy here? You’re a manipulative little witch if you think that will work on me. Keep crying and I’ll give you something to cry about.

You felt naked – like your figurative clothes had been violently ripped from your body – and there you stood, stripped bare for all to leer at. Standing before two people...who were meant to love you unconditionally...as they laced their words with venom and spat vitriol at you.

You couldn’t even hear the point Remus was trying to make anymore. It didn’t matter anyway.

He hated you. You were hated. You were a disappointment, a burden, unwanted.

But you couldn’t cry – could never cry. You’d just be manipulating them. You were deceitful. Emotions were deceitful. The way you felt was wrong. And they were right.

Always right.

So, you did what you always did; you made it quiet.

You began layering rows of stones around your being. Protection. Space. Distance. Safety.

They couldn’t hurt you from all the way in here, not from the other side of your wall. You’d be safe here. Here in the quiet.

It was safe in the quiet.

Sirius felt disgraceful at how long it took him to notice the signs of you pulling away from the conversation. Away from them. Away from him.

Remus – always more sensitive than the two of you when it came to the likes of money, combined with feeling extra flustered with the upcoming full moon – had no reason to expect nor recognize signs of occlusion.

Suddenly, Sirius was fourteen again. Walburga was standing over him with her wand aimed at his chest, but all he could see was Regulus. He had prayed at the time that his brother could hear him begging in his mind:

Turn it off, Reg. Just turn it off. It can’t hurt you if you turn it off.

Sirius himself sat in an almost constant state of occlusion during his fifth year, knowing somewhere deep in his gut that the beginning of the end of his life as the heir of the Ancient and Most Noble House of Black (or the end of his life in general) was near.

Growing up wasn’t a whole lot easier for you, it seemed. And he knew that when things got to be too much, you did what you needed to do to protect yourself.

He suddenly hated himself. You weren’t supposed to need to protect yourself from him and Remus. It was their job to protect you; just like you always protected them.

How you protected Remus from wasting away on the days leading up to and recovering from the full moon. You never let him go hungry or thirsty, you always made sure the space was clean and tidy, and you never let him fall into his typical pre- and post-moon self-loathing.

And you protected Sirius from himself; from saying things that he wouldn’t be able to take back, from being the worst version of himself, from losing you and Remus completely.

He didn’t deserve you.

You didn’t deserve this.

For fuck’s sake all you had been doing was being kind.

Being a good friend, someone that others could rely on, protecting people who meant so much to you.

All you were doing was being your kind, courteous, protective, generous self that Remus and Sirius had fallen in love with from the very start.

“Moony!” Sirius pleaded, causing the lycanthrope to pause in his tangent. You didn’t even flinch at the sudden change in the atmosphere as Remus looked at Sirius bewilderedly.

“We’ve lost her.” Sirius murmured quietly, causing Remus to spin to observe you.

“Well...” Remus began, still struggling to shake off his anger and the need to argue. “But I-”

“It’s enough, Remus.” Sirius hissed quietly, staring at Remus with a look he hoped conveyed no nonsense.

He apparently succeeded as Remus let out whatever breath he’d been holding as he turned again to face you.

“Dove, I’m sorry.” Remus whispered as he tried to move towards you, but you instinctively took a step back to maintain the distance between you; your arms wrapped around your middle protectively as if that was all that was holding you together.

Sirius’ heart felt like it split in two – and based off of the look on Remus’ face, he wasn’t fairing any better.

“Y/N?” Sirius tried. You didn’t turn to look at him, but you hummed in quasi-acknowledgement.

“Can you look at me?” He tried quietly, but you shook your head no.

Remus made a pained sound as he tried to move towards you again, ducking his head down in an attempt to make eye contact with you. You didn’t back away from him this time, but your arms tightened in their hold around your middle.

“Sweetheart, I’m sorry I...I shouldn’t have spoken to you like that. I’m...I was out of line.”

“Come back?” Sirius pleaded. “Please.”

You took a deep breath and turned your face towards your boyfriends, but Sirius could tell your eyes were still foggy – you were still hiding.

“We won’t talk about it anymore. That conversation is done.” Sirius said.

“But-” you started, voice grating from the tightness in your throat, but he cut you off.

“The conversation is done. You did what you thought was right, you were being your kind lovely self, helping your friend when they needed you. We shouldn’t have yelled at you, sweets. I’m sorry.”

Remus made another pained sound and moved closer to you again.

“Dovey, I’m so sorry. Please, can I- would you like a hug?”

Sirius watched as you looked at Remus, seeming to weigh your options before you nodded once at him. Remus needn’t any more invitation and quickly (though gently) made for you, enveloping you in his arms.

The three of you stayed like that – Remus with his arms around you, you with your arms around yourself and your face pushed into his chest, and Sirius standing helplessly at the side – before Sirius started to notice some tension leaving your shoulders.

“Why’d you go?” He asked you quietly, gently placing a hand in the middle of your shoulder blades and rubbing in a way he hoped was soothing.

“I didn’t want to cry.” You admitted into Remus’ chest, neither boy missing how tight your voice seemed to be, even as your voice barely raised above a whisper.

“Oh, dolly. Just cry. Cry, okay? Make us feel like tossers, but don’t leave.” Sirius said.

“I didn’t want you to feel bad.” You muttered wetly, finally turning so Sirius could see your red and wet face.

“But we deserved it. Oh, my love.” Remus cooed as he all but picked you up and locked your legs around his hips, forcing you to move your grip from around yourself to around him.

“I’m not s’posed to make you cry. I’m s’posed to make you smile.” He muttered pitifully, pressing his lips into your hair.

“And cum.” Sirius spoke in the same pitiful tone, brushing a strand of hair from your forehead.

You laughed wetly and the last of your occlusion appeared to slip away which was what Sirius had been aiming for. It didn’t make him feel all that much better though.

“Oh, my girl. I’m so sorry, Pads is right. You were just being your lovely self, and I’m a bastard.”

Sirius watched as your brows furrowed. “You’re not a bastard.”

“No,” Sirius agreed readily, “he was just being a bastard. Both of us were. Do you think you can forgive us?”

You nodded quickly but Remus tsked in response.

“Don’t let us off so easily, dovey. Make us pay for it. What do you need? Do you need a foot rub? You want cake? Ice cream? What about a kitten? You’ve always wanted a kitten.”

You had been shaking your head at everything Remus said until the last one, your curiosity obviously piqued.

Fuckin’ hells, Sirius thought, if she gets a kitten everytime one of us acts like an arse, we’re going to be overrun with cats by next month.

#poly!wolfstar #poly!wolfstar x reader #poly!wolfstar x you #wolfstar x you #wolfstar x reader #wolfstar #sirius black #remus lupin #remus x sirius #remus lupin x reader #remus lupin x you #sirius black x reader #sirius black x you #self insert #reader insert #ask elle #marauders fanfiction #hurt/comfort #ellecdc fics

1K notes · View notes

neckromantics · 4 months

Text

Astarion loves to take baths with you.

It's one of his favorite ways to spend his downtime in general, honestly. Not only is the bath such a soothing place to be (you know once this man has the option, he's going to splurge on a vast collection of luxury soaps, oils, hair masks, and body scrubs- the list goes on.), but there's just something about it that makes him feel so normal? Mortal, almost.

If he lets himself soak just long enough, the heat from the water begins to nullify the vampiric chill that he's grown ever so used to. It's a pleasant warmth that works its way past pale skin- past tired muscles and aching sinew- and settles down deep into his very bones. For a few precious moments, he can convince himself that the eternal discomfort of undeath has made off for good this time.

And his hair always looks spectacular after wash day. It's a win-win scenario for him. So for his favorite person to be involved as well? Well, that just makes it all the more better.

This time, you're lounging on the floor nearby as he soaks- having stuck around after washing his hair for him as he oh-so-kindly requested of you. He's still a bit new at asking for small acts of kindness, so of course, you jumped at the chance to put your hands to good use. You were so careful not to catch your fingers on any snags as you worked a sweet-smelling soap through his wet curls, nails scrubbing away at his scalp even after it's all rinsed away just to hear him purr for you.

You're leaning against the bath, cheek cushioned against your forearm as it rests along the edge. The other swirls idly in the water- kept heated by clever use of prestidigitation (you'd recently picked up this cantrip for purposes such as this) and softened by the finest oils stolen gold could purchase. The curtains in your room are carefully drawn, and although your source of light comes from the multitude of candles scattered about, it's still enough to see the nice flush the heat brings to his skin. It's a little odd to see him so pinkened, and obviously, you can't help but stare no matter how hard you try not to.

It's the blood- your blood- that's pooling beneath the surface of his skin and giving him this radiance that many a man would covet.

Rose blooms a pretty bouquet on the smooth skin of his chest, up the length of his bared throat as he rests his head, and even reaches the tips of the pointy ears you so adore. Gods, even his knuckles are pinker when he reaches a hand out of the water to push his hair away from his forehead, and your gaze immediately follows the trail of soapy water as it glides down his wrist- drip-drops from his elbow and back into the bath.

Astarion looks so... peaceful like this.

Pale lashes rest upon warm cheeks as he reclines, face fallen soft, similar to how it does when he's deep in trance. A part of you wonders if this is how he might have looked back some two hundred years ago, before the affliction that was bestowed upon him by his old (now deceased, you celebrate mentally) master.

Eyes of ruby open just a crack, and you know that smug smile is coming before his lips so much as twitch.

"You know, my dear, most people consider staring to be rather rude." He purrs.

You're proud to say you don't miss a beat.

"Good thing you're nothing like most people then, hm?" Quick wit- a developing side effect from the many days spent traveling with the cheekiest rogue in all of Faerûn.

Quick as you may be– he is quicker.

"Ah, right you are. Most people aren't nearly as beautiful as I am– one can hardly blame you for all of your slack-jawed gawping."

A half-huffed laugh is pulled out of you. Astarion loves to pretend he isn't just as delighted by your glossy-eyed admiring as he is amused.

And here you are again, suddenly distracted by the slightest bounce of silver curls when he tilts his head to watch your smile hit your eyes. His hair looks a bit longer when it's weighed down by bathwater and conditioning oils, almost to the point where some bits just barely brush his shoulders. You're so mesmerized that you have to touch him. The hand that's been playing in the water comes up to brush a few nearly translucent hairs away from where they've stuck to the curve of his neck, lingering afterward to carefully trace a finger down to his collarbone as you continue your oggle-fest.

Only just a moment longer, you tell yourself, and then you'll leave him be.

Yet, he doesn't let you pull away too far when you've finished. A deft hand comes up from the depths to capture yours the second you think about leaving him to his privacy, and you nearly jump at the unfamiliar temperature of its grasp.

He's warm.

Almost warmer than you, and it's honestly kind of jarring.

Astarion's still sporting that smile, although a bit kinder than before. If you weren't watching so closely, you'd miss how his eyes flash, uncharacteristically shy for just a moment before that heavy-lidded stare is set back in place. He brings your joined hands up to his mouth, petal-soft lips resting against the damp heel of your palm in a not-so-kiss.

They press for a long moment, and you can feel the appreciative hum he gives more than you can hear it. It occurs to you that he's probably just as dazed at your matching temperatures as you are.

"Get in here, darling." The command comes out as more of a question, really. You know in your heart that you have every right to refuse him if you really want to and that he wouldn't even consider holding it against you if you did.

But why in the hells would you ever do a thing as silly as that?

#bg3 #astarion ancunin #baldurs gate 3 #astarion x reader #astarion x tav #astarion headcanons #astarion #astarion fic #astarion fluff

1K notes · View notes

reiderwriter · 14 days

Note

hii I absolutely love your writing!! I was wondering if you could write a one shot with gun kink? maybe not really something *aggressive* but just gun kink in the plot !! and please smut with no angst, also maybe aftercare in the end? it's totally okay if you're not comfortable. im loving your kinktober one shots! have a good day :)

A/N: This being one of like... three gun kink requests I've received, we are all not seeing the pearly gates lmao. If you enjoy reading this, even 50% of how much I enjoyed writing it, then I'm happy 😚

Warnings: Undercover FBI Agent reader, gun kink, interrogation room sex, oral (f receiving), unprotected sex, creampie, some BDSM themes, Spencer has to 'rough up' the reader etc.

Masterlist

Being rough-housed by a group of FBI agents and pushed against a wall before being handcuffed was never your idea of a fun Tuesday night. It wasn't exactly high on the list for any night of the week, really, but here you were.

“Caitlyn Grant? You're under arrest for being an accessory to a felony and evading law enforcement, whatever you say…” You drowned out the rest of the statement. It was nothing you didn't have memorized.

“You're not the usual drug crew, and you don't look sturdy enough to be on most of the other teams either. What part of the Bureau are you in?” You asked the lanky man currently pinning you to the wall as he made sure your handcuffs were aptly tight.

“You have the right to an attorney, if you can't afford one-”

“I waive my rights. It's not human trafficking. You wouldn't be working this case if you were human trafficking.”

The man just stared at you in vague disapproval as you grinned back at him. His closeness meant you could see every detail of his face up close, the five o'clock shadow, the dark circles from lack of sleep. On most of the agents you'd encountered, it had the effect of making them look older, a little haggard, and depressed. On this man, it was honestly very hot.

He started your pat down by spreading your legs, though honestly, if he'd asked nicely enough, you'd have done just that for him. You near enough told him just that as he reached the two pockets on the ass of your jeans.

“Watch it, Agent, my bite is worse than my bark.”

“Turn around.”

You pouted at his solid resolve, wondering what it would take to get the man to crack a smile or even a frown. Something that wasn't just disinterest slapped on a face and called a day.

You did as he asked, making sure your body pressed nicely up against his the entire way until your shoulders were resting on the wall and he was feeling along your waist.

“Come on, what kind of weapon are you going to find there?”

“Standard protocol, please let me do my job.”

“Standard protocol is calling one of your female agents over here to maintain the boundary, Agent. This feels more like you're just trying to cop a feel.”

Those words finally got a reaction. The subtle clench of the jaw as his hands tightened slightly on your waist had you suddenly regretting your decision to be put in handcuffs. Your hands should've been free to tuck the stray lock of hair that had fallen in his eyes behind his ear, free so your fingernails could trace a path down his face and neck and chest.

His gaze landed on the simple silver chain you wore around your list and he delicately pulled it out of your shirt, careful not to touch you (and avoiding you even as you arched your back into him).

With a quick tug, he pulled the necklace clean off your neck, not pausing to bother with the clasp at all.

“Clever boy. I'll see you in the interrogation room, shall I?” He said nothing as the female agents you'd mentioned earlier stationed themselves on either side of you as you walked away. You didn't break eye contact until the doors to the police van closed behind you.

Six months undercover on a case, and this was the first time you'd stepped foot in a police precinct since you'd ditched your real name and life.

The interrogation rooms hadn't changed in that time, at least, still grey and depressing. Time felt void as you waited for company, and thankfully, you weren't waiting long.

“Agent Y/N, sorry about the arrest, we wanted to make it look as real as possible while pulling you out.” The woman who greeted you obviously held the authority, and while you wanted to respect that, the sight of the man trailing behind her actually caught her full attention.

“Pleasure to meet you….?” You let the question hang open for both of them but kept your gaze fully focused on the man, who stood himself next to the door, keeping surprisingly quiet.

“I'm Unit Chief Emily Prentiss, this is Doctor Spencer Reid, we're from the-”

“Behavioural Analysis Unit, of course. I was close, you know, earlier. A face like yours wouldn't last five minutes in cartel land. I almost guessed cyber, but you looked a bit too bookish. Doctor Reid, hmm.”

“This interview is taking place with Agent Prentiss. Please direct all your questions to her.”

“Oh shit, sorry, where are my manners. I didn't mean to disrespect you like that, Agent Prentiss. It's just been a long few months.”

The other woman just chuckled and shook her head, leafing through some documents to pass you over the information on the case they needed assistance on.

“We think there's a serial killer in the drug ring you infiltrated,” the woman explained, passing over the files with the case details. You took a moment's breath before opening to the crime scene photos, steeling yourself for what you might encounter.

“There are probably a lot of serials in the organization. It's a drug ring. What makes this one worse?” You said, just as you flipped the file open and answered your own question.

“Shit- Okay, that's what makes this one worse. He can't be more than 15, right?”

The answering grimace on the two agents' faces suggested you'd been generous in your estimate. “Okay, how can I help?”

xxxxx

A few hours passed in the interrogation room, and you'd walked them through all of your up to date information on your case and cover. The chair wasn't exactly comfortable, but you were glad to be finally seeing the light at the end of the tunnel. The interview was ending, and you could see an end to your undercover work swiftly following too with the BAU's assistance.

You weren't looking forward to having to acclimatize back into the real world. You'd gone from pushing papers at a desk 9 hours a day to rubbing shoulders with drug dealers and junkies, a lot of whom were kids, young people like you who had no other options than the streets and crime.

You made a mental note to give a few warnings to the younger kids on the streets to stay alert and then started getting back into character.

“Thanks again for your help, Agent. We appreciate your time.” Prentiss nodded at you as she gathered the folders, getting ready to leave.

Spencer Reid stood, too, stretching himself out as he rose from the chair, giving you quite the show as your eyes dragged from his face, down his chest and down further still as you appreciated the view.

The last few hours had been strictly professional, and you'd enjoyed bouncing ideas off of him, running through theories. Now, trying to get back into your ‘lusty barmaid’ persona, you thought instead about how much you'd like to bounce on him yourself, possibly while running your hands through his hair.

A girl could dream.

“Hold on a second, I'm still in cover, I can't go back out there looking this pristine, it's too suspicious,” you said, the two agents turning back to you curiously.

“What do you mean?”

“Someone needs to throw me around a little. Rough housing, you know, a few bruises will do it.”

Prentiss looked at you, caught halfway between impressed and amused. The good Doctor however seemed to darken slightly, covering his shock with a tensed jaw.

“She's all yours, Spencer,” Wmily winked at the man, turning the door handle and beginning her exit.

“What? Why?”

“I don't hit women.”

“And I do? Emily, wha-”

But the door to the interrogation room has already closed with a small cackle, and you're already being drawn closer to the man like a moth to a flame.

Turning to face you, you see the shock of the situation on his face before he looks away in a flash, refusing to meet your eyes as he keeps himself close to the door.

“Doctor Reid, I'm not actually a criminal, you know?”

“I thought you wanted one of us to treat you like a criminal now.”

“You make a good point, shall we begin?”

He signed and rubbed his temples as you advanced, letting you get a little bit closer before holding his hands up in surrender.

“Wait, wait, tell me first, what should we be doing?”

You took a deep breath and expelled it, then took the time to think about it.

You would need some visible marks of the FBI's unkindness - wrists red, a bruise or two on your knees, maybe, from falling. The problem was, you couldn't think about how to get the marks without driving yourself insane.

There was a quick and easy way to get tender knees, an even easier way to mark up your neck and chest, but you couldn't figure out how to ask Spencer Reid to do those things without spreading your legs and letting him do whatever he wanted. You weren't sure you wouldn't do that eventually, anyway.

“Let's start with my wrists. You were too generous with the handcuffs earlier - just grab them really tight, pin me against the wall if it helps.”

He nodded and took a hesitant step towards you, thinking for a second, before grabbing one wrist and spinning you around. Before you could even process the action, he had you pinned, chest against the wall, arms above your head.

“Is that okay?” He asked, his grip tight but not bruising yet.

“A little tighter, I want the marks to last a while. Why is my face against the wall?”

He gripped tighter, the pain sending a jolt through your wrists that trailed all the way down to pool between your thighs.

“I thought you'd be less uncomfortable like this.”

“With your dick pushed up against my ass? Yes, Doctor, great decision.”

He let out a cold, quick laugh, leaving you flushed as he pushed your upper body into the wall, too, finally getting to the grip strength he needed to get attention.

“I'm sorry to disappoint, Y/N, but that's my gun,” the words whispered in your ear were the last straw as you shuddered in his grasp, his hands releasing your wrists as he stepped back a little.

You shook out your hands a little, trying to momentarily relive the stiffness in your joints.

He took a few paces to the desk and upholstered his weapon, placing it on the desk before joining you again.

“So you don't get confused again,” he explained at seeing your raised eyebrow.

“Oh so next time, it will be your dick?” You whispered, moving back to the desk and sitting yourself on the edge or it, picking up the gun and studying it for a few minutes.

“Y/N, put it down.”

“Ooh, possessive, are we?” You giggled, aiming it at him for a second before grabbing it by the barrel and holding it back out for him to grab.

“Hold it, point it at me or whatever. Maybe it'll help you rough me up.”

His brow furrowed, but he grabbed it anyway, not immediately slipping it into the holster as he stepped forward.

“What now?” He asked, and you shrugged.

“Whatever feels natural. And looks visible, I guess.”

It took him a few minutes to decide, surveying your body like it was a puzzle. Professionally, of course. You were about to speak up and urge him to get on with it when his hand shot out and wrapped around your throat.

You tried to gasp, but the grip was firm, and boy, was it driving you crazy. Your legs had naturally parted as you sat yourself on the edge of the desk, and he walked into that space now, his free hand still holding the gun.

Your body pushed forward into his, suddenly awash with arousal as your chest heaved with tiny breaths, lungs burning.

“Are you enjoying this, Y/N? Or is it Caitlyn Grant that's enjoying this?”

You felt the gun touch your thigh gently, and you moaned, just as he softened his grip on your throat.

“Answer me, please. This is an interrogation room, after all.”

You met his eyes, checking to see how far he would take this, how far you could push back.

“I'll admit, I'm not against mixing pain and pleasure.”

His gaze flicked down, slowly pushing his gun up the skin of your thigh, raising your skirt with the barrel to catch a quick glimpse of your panties.

“I can tell.”

If it weren't for his grip on you, you'd have lunged for him right then and there. The cool metal against your thigh had you shuddering against him, growing wetter by the minute.

“I read somewhere once that we can't pretend to be someone else without actually becoming them in some small way. You've been a cartel whore for six months, I wonder if this is a lasting effect.”

He was so close now all he needed to do to close the gap was change the angle of his head, but he kept you in place with that gun, pointing up from your pussy, flush against your stomach.

“I'll tell you a secret - the part of me that's aroused right now definitely predates this cover.”

His lips drop to yours, tongue clashing with yours furiously as he grabs the back of your head to angle you better.

Letting his hand drop back to your thigh, he gently coaxed you further open, skirt riding up. Putting down the gym momentarily, he pressed a wandering finger against your pantie-clad pussy, feeling your arousal before he used it to coat his fingers.

A second later and the offending pair of underwear lay discarded on the floor.

“Fuck, Spencer,” you said, gasping for breath as he again picked up the gun.

“You wanted this so badly, didn't you? You've been needing someone to treat you like this for months now. It didn't even have to be me.”

He traced circles on your thigh with the gun, and you twitched, years of training not letting you relax around the weapon and months of sexual frustration, making you desperate for something to touch you.

“Yes, yes, please touch me.”

The hand at your throat slid down to your chest and pushed gently urging you to lie back and let him do whatever he wanted with you. The desk was cold - metal biting at your bare skin - and it only sent more shivers down your spine as he lowered himself to his knees and parted your legs for his tongue.

The first touch was heaven, a state of bliss you'd been without in what felt like forever. His tongue danced across your folds as he tasted every inch of your exposed cunt, grip still strong on the gun pointed now to your chest, pinning you between the machine and the table.

You tried to be as still as possible, to take the pleasure he gave calmly, but you couldn't. You writhed, moaned, chest heaving as you tried to hold off the first orgasm you'd achieved with someone else in probably a year.

Like a man on a mission, Spencer Reid did not care. He gladly suffocated between your thighs as you squeezed them together, wrapping them around his head so you could keep feeling the insurmountable pleasure of his tongue on your pussy.

“Spencer…Spencer, fuck-” you said as he finally pried your legs apart, lifting them just slightly so his tongue could reach further inside of you, curling with each wave of passion. Your hands fisted his hair, desperate for something to ground you to the moment as your pleasure spilt out of you, orgasm jolting through you in tiny sparks of pleasure.

The gun moved first, coming level with your chest as you untangled your fingers from his hair. Spencer stood, wiping his face with the back of his hand as he kept the gun on you.

“I think this turns you on even more. You've been ruined by this cover, Y/N, you're so used to being in danger that you can't even get off without someone threatening you.”

You attempted to scoff, to brush off his words somehow, but his hand was suddenly back around your throat, picking you up off the desk and pulling you instead towards the room's one-way window.

“Look at yourself,” he said, again twisting you around so you were pressed into the wall, wrists above your hair, raising your shirt to expose the cold skin underneath. He ran the barrel across the fresh skin, leaving a field of goosebumps along his path.

“I don't think it would've mattered who came in to rough you up. I think you'd just as happily have convinced Emily to fuck your little pussy raw, right Y/N? As long as there was a gun…”

Your moan was the only response as he used the weapon to spread your legs. You naturally arched your back and kept your hands in place as he holstered the weapon momentarily to unzip his pants and let his cock free.

You couldn't see it, but you saw his reflection in the mirror as he slowly stretched you out with it, mouth dropping in a lustful ‘o’ as he fed his dick to you, hard and thick.

As soon as it was in, the gun came back out, this time to rest against your temple.

“Get yourself off,” his voice was so low it was practically a growl. “Use my cock, and pleasure yourself.”

Your body listened immediately, beginning to move back and forth on his cock as he held himself in place. His moans and groans were all the encouragements you needed, the gun at your temple was just made the pleasure more profound as you approached your release.

But he kept you pinned to the glass, your full range of motion limited, and you whimpered in frustration that you couldn't feel every inch of him.

“If you need something, use your words, Agent.”

“More, need more, please..please,” you gasped, breathing ragged.

The hands at your wrists released, and he fisted a hand into the flesh at your hip, your wrists resting on the glass next to your face as he took over your thrusting.

“Can't even do this anymore, what a spoiled little whore,” he said as his hips began snapping into you, reaching that spot deep inside you as you drooled against the glass, wondering if anyone had just happened to step into that room and what they must think about you.

“Cum for me, Y/N. Cum on my cock,” he said it, and entranced, your body did just that, your orgasm taking the last breath of strength you had as he too plunged himself deeper and stilled there, his cum coating your walls.

Neither of you moved for an eternity, but the first sign of clarity returning was the careful return of the gun to the holster.

Pulling a handkerchief from his pocket, Spencer minimized the mess you made together, cleaning you up as he slipped out of you. Discarding it momentarily on the floor, he pulled your clothes back into position and led you back over to the chairs. Just as he moved to sit you down, though, you turned and wrapped your arms around his waist, pulling him into a hug.

His arms hung suspended for a minute or two before he let them rest on your back, stroking your hair.

“Sorry, it's been… it's been lonely, and I didn't realize how hard it had been until-”

“It's okay. Take your time,” he said, sitting down in the chair and letting you curl up in his lap, burying your head in his neck

“We’ll catch this guy, and then you're out, okay Y/N? We'll come back and get you out soon.”

Lifting your eyes to his, you nodded, pressing your lips to his with a smile as you again worked yourself back into character, regaining your earlier composure and lifting yourself from the man's too comfortable arms.

“Well, Spencer, what do you say we get me back into panties and handcuffs and cut Caitlyn Grant loose?”

#spencer reid #criminal minds #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid fanfic #mgg #spencer reid smut #criminal minds fanfiction #criminal minds fandom #spencer reid criminal minds #dr spencer reid #spencer reid x reader smut #spencer reid x you #spencer reid x y/n

749 notes · View notes

twistedwonderlandimaginesblog · 4 months

Note

Can I request something about after like they graduate? Like they invite MC to move in? No way Crowley letting is own Ramshackle

Anything related after they graduate? For Deuce, Jack, Silver and Sebek.

Deuce Spade:

Deuce is sweating bullets, shifting on his feet which alerted you to him having something important to say. He delivered the question as confidently as possible, not wanting you to think his nerves acting up had anything to do with the how much he wanted to live together. He wanted this more than anything but he braced himself for either kind of response, knowing you might think it was moving too quick.

Jack Howl:

Jack knew his philosophy on love was a unique one, unique enough that the courting process had been over a year long before you were officially labeled a couple, but he had to be sure you were the one. That’s why he doesn’t hesitate to pose the question to you once you’ve both graduated, since the concept of being apart now that you were adults didn’t sit right with him. He would feel a little hurt if you were to decline but would ultimately accept it, as he did realize you grew up differently than him.

Sebek Zigvolt:

Sebek won’t be asking you to move in right away, most likely not even until you’re properly engaged, and he has a home for you both to be in. He also needed to gather his own parents' blessing, and Malleus’, before he proposed. A lot is going on behind the scenes that you’re not even aware of, as Sebek gets plenty of council before he strikes. He wants to know he can provide for you before you’re settled in together, and he gets emotional thinking about how close that future is.

Silver:

Silver had no planning, the thought popped into his pretty little head and he simply asked. He thought it sounded nice to live together, to make a cozy little haven to call your own, and he grows more attached to the ideas the longer you talk about it. He looks at you with hopeful eyes, patiently waiting for your opinion and hoping your feelings mirrored his own.

#Twisted Wonderland #TWST #Twisted Wonderland Imagines #Twisted Wonderland x Reader #TWST Imagines #TWST x Reader #Deuce Spade #TWST Silver #sebek zigvolt #Jack Howl #Deuce Spade x Reader #Silver x Reader #Sebek Zigvolt x Reader #Jack Howl x Reader

1K notes · View notes

gamermattsgf · 2 months

Text

Sour diesel p.2 // dealer Chris

Warnings: shower sex / clitoral stimulation / praise kink / drug dealer Chris x reader / size kink / unprotected sex / vertical prone position (I literally have no idea what else to call this lol) / piercing kink / thoughts of exhibitionism / slight hair pulling

Summary: still feeling the strong effects of the diesel you had just previously smoked, chris now wants a taste, and doesn’t mind pulling you into the shower with him to do so...

Author’s notes: ew why did it take me so long to write this and decide what I actually wanted to do with it lmao. Just a quick disclaimer, if you can’t really remember what happened in the first one I recommend going back to re-read it because this is a continuation of what happens straight after the first one ends. Also lowkey- why does this one get so sappy and soft at the end lol? I should really start writing tooth rots soon too. So anyways… get out ya sour diesel playlists and enjoy ;).

“If you overthinkin’, I get high with you, if you ever sinkin’, I go down with you, all I need, my baby and a cigarette” - CIGARETTES, Amir Obe

. ݁𖦹₊ ⊹

‘shit that is strong stuff…’

You laugh at Chris’ throwaway comment, hyperaware of the way your whole entire body tingles itself into a horny hot-sweat. The thick smell of weed on both of your clothes and the redness of your eyes certainly don’t help in cementing the fact that you are both high out of your fucking minds right now.

Chris feeds his bottom lip into his mouth and tugs on the central silver lip ring he has hooked into his plump flesh.

The sight alone makes your toes curl. It’s as if every single move he makes drags you deeper into a violet haze of ecstasy until you’re so far away from clarity that you can barely see it anymore.

Chris’ soft chest rises and falls as his cock lies there in front of you two, bare, and needing a lot more attention.

Releasing his moist lip from his teeth, it recoils backwards slightly and you watch his lip ring glint hypnotically in the light of the ceiling fan above him.

They look dewy, a peachy pink cream colour… perfect for sucking on.

Your drug dealer’s frosty irises surround themselves with the bloodshot white of his eyes, and the redness almost exemplifies the popping blue colour of them.

His pupils dilate, and he seems to be deep in thought.

You shift uncomfortably on your knees, trying to press your aching heat down onto one of the balls of your feet to suppress its unbearable throb.

Suddenly Chris sighs.

His voice is deep and raspy, almost as if he’s just woken up from a deep slumber. You love it when you two link up to smoke weed together because his voice always drops down to this gorgeous register and it makes your folds slick beneath your underwear every single time.

Unbeknownst to Chris of course.

He’ll just sit there, knowing exactly what he’s doing, yet not knowing anything at all as he balances the blunt in his mouth, blowing out leisurely smoke rings and pumping his system full of relaxant narcotics. Perhaps sprawled out on his back across your bed if at your place or out on his deck in one of his chairs at his…

His voice always ends up the same though, gritty and an octave lower than usual.

‘Wanna take a shower with me, ma?’ He questions casually, as if saying something like this to you is rather a normal occurrence. It elicits a tight tension within your muscles, and you struggle to not grind yourself down onto the ball of your foot.

You swallow thickly at his request, and Chris’ lips twitch up into a little lop-sided smirk. He wants to see you naked. So fucking bad. And he’s not ashamed to admit it. He thinks about it a lot. More than he probably should.

He also just likes to think about you a lot.

Usually when he does his deals with other clients. He’ll always hand over his weed, or his bag of pills and then he’ll think about how much he misses your face.

Then when he’s stretching out his hand and expectantly raising his eyebrows for his money he’ll think about how much he hates letting you pay for your drugs.

He knows he shouldn’t, but he fucking loves spoiling you by giving you free rein of his most expensive strains.

Just a moment of your time is money enough for him.

And then whenever he slinks away from his deals with his black hood up, he leafes through his money and counts it… thinking about how much he can’t wait to see a text from you again.

Sometimes he purposely gives you smaller volumes of weed just so that you run out faster and have to come guiltily crawling back to see him again for more.

With that being said, he takes advantage of this moment, flicking his eyes down to the subtle rock of your hips that rut forward once and then retreat back to their original resting position.

You squirm about at the thought of his shower.

‘Um… yes please’ you clear your throat and mumble politely, your cheeks turning pink in embarrassment. And it’s almost unbelievable to think that you had the thickness of his cock stuffed all the way down your throat moments ago because of how you were looking at him now.

Chris snorts at this nervous reaction, a gruff and teasing giggle slipping past his lips whilst he tilts his head patronisingly. ‘What? You all shy now or somethin’?’.

You avert your eyes as he pokes fun at you, a hint of his Boston accent catching in the back of his throat as he smiles at your endearing behaviour.

You shake your head and muscle up the nerves to look up at him through your eyelashes. You sigh. ‘Sorry it’s just uhh… well- I’m just a little shocked at myself that’s all’.

Commenting on your previously greedy actions, it’s as if you can still feel the soft throbbing of Chris’ thickness stroking against the walls of your mouth. The taste of his cum haunts the base of your throat, and the memory of saliva seeping from your mouth to dribble around his pink head permeates your vision.

The look of the strings of spit connecting his tip to your lips as soon as you had pulled away from him almost become too much for you to bear.

Suddenly, you crack a laugh, and Chris is so fucking high that he finds it within himself to join in, even though what you had said wasn’t really that funny.

After recovering, Chris quickly silences and retreats back to looking at you lustily, his eyes glistening with that primal need to have you for himself, but equally to have you wailing and crying out his name with his windows cracked wide open.

Because he wants passing people to know, to know what’s going on in the bathroom of his apartment. And he wants them to be jealous. Jealous of the way that it’s him who’s pounding into you, him whose skin is slapping against yours, and him whose back is getting clawed at by your nails until it’s red raw.

‘I kinda wanna kiss you…’ he randomly muses to you. And you too, fall silent, and find yourself gravitating towards him naturally. He does the same, his eyes once or twice obsessively looking down to your lips. They hold a begging kind of gaze that almost has you rolling about the floor for mercy.

‘Do it then’ you breathe daringly, both of you two then coming in to bridge the gap. Chris presses his lips into yours, and then immediately you feel the artificial metal ring of his piercing against your own bare skin.

He squeezes his lips closed and traps your bottom one in between his two.

In one solid motion he makes you shiver by smoothly sliding his tongue across the skin of your lip, before wetly detaching himself and doing the exact same thing to your top one. He utters a breathy moan, the cold air on his prick making it throb and harden once again whilst you let him kiss you.

It’s not long before it escalates, and the taste of your saliva has Chris hooked. So much so that he lurches forward a little more to grab both sides of your face aggressively with his hands.

He keeps you held there, the large expanse of them moist with sweating arousal as your mouths drop open even further into the now very messy kiss.

Now it’s just your tongues flattening against each other’s and licking from side to side, spit whipping about and coating the corners of your mouths when sometimes each of you miss your mark.

‘Shower? Please?’ Chris breathlessly pants, his desperate tone almost making him seem like he’s transitioned into heat as his hands slide down your neck, then your tits, only to land on the fabric of your shirt. He boyishly twists it into his knuckles, and impatiently tugs you towards him.

‘O-okay… shower’ you acknowledge him, and then pull away.

Your wobbly feet rise to a stand from off of his scuffed green couch and only then do you realise just how wet you are after your thighs close and rub together.

Chris looks up at you with doe eyes, before grunting and standing up too, trying to pull his grey sweats and boxers up simultaneously.

He messily tries to tuck his weeping cock into his pants, but heaves an annoyed mumble when it takes longer than expected, before he is pushing himself back into you once he’s successful.

He leans in with his mouth already agape hungrily. The fever and determination he has only makes your horniness worse, still in an absolutely trance on your diesel high.

Your tongues sloppily lick each other’s, and Chris moans a quick ‘Mhh, so pretty baby’ into your lips with his eyes feathered closed in enjoyment.

He walks you backwards one or two steps, before humming again in thought and stopping. He then decides to not bother with trying to get you to walk to his bathroom, and so pulls away from your lips to kiss his teeth.

He shuffles back slightly and you eye him quizzically before he’s reaching his palms downwards and turning them up to his ceiling.

They twitch slightly when he purrs ‘up you come baby’, clearly wanting you to leap your thighs into the cups of them so that he can carry you.

You smile slightly at this, and smooth your hands over his shoulders for support before hopping into his hold. He groans a little at the force exerted upon his arms but then quickly flexes them and easily hitches your legs around his thick hips.

‘Atta girl’ he praises you softly before sponging a wet kiss onto the collarbone that sits right in front of the reach of his lips.

He then starts to walk you both through the corridor of his apartment to his bathroom.

On your way there he has to step over piles of his stuff that he’s lazily thrown onto his floor, like a heap of empty Pepsi cans and also his beloved pink North Face puffer jacket that he usually does his deals in.

It lays in a crumpled heap next to his mess of playing card. Presumably he must have had people round playing black jack earlier and just hasn’t cleaned them up yet.

After a bit of turning your head to the side and playfully biting the helix of his ear, he gets you to the door of his bathroom and victoriously kicks it open with his foot.

Twisting to the side, he squeezes both of you past the doorframe and looks up at you with lusting eyes before he is using his foot again to force the door shut behind him. It slams and traps you two into Chris damp-smelling bathroom, the scent of his cologne combatting the mould of the old walls and intoxicating your senses.

You forget how fucking good Chris smells underneath all of that weed.

He suddenly releases his grip on you, and you drop to the floor, your feet padding onto his white bathmat.

He pecks you on the lips once, before twisting around to turn his attention to the shower. He reaches into it and twists the dial which makes water come spurting out of the head. Whilst doing this you simultaneously take off your top and unbutton your jeans.

You slide them down your dewy legs as Chris reaches his palm in to test the temperature of the water before looking back at you, his stomach flipping in excitement at the sight of you standing there in your bra and underwear.

‘Is the shower ready?’ You speak up timidly, standing squished and self consciously with your arms folded over your stomach as you look at the man who has always been on your mind outside of deals, and not just because of the drugs.

He hums. ‘Hmm, not yet, wanna make it nice for you…’.

He turns back around and leans out of the shower.

Shaking his wet hand, a couple of droplets fall to the floor before he is taking off his zip up and letting it plonk to the bathmat. ‘Still feelin’ shy ma?’ He comments with a smirk on his face at the fact that you haven’t yet taken off your underwear.

You laugh and shake your head, his silly attitude managing to ease the tension. ‘Mhh, a little bit’.

Sometimes you get extra nervy when you’re high. It isn’t necessarily Chris’ fault that you feel this way, it’s just the kind of influence the drug has on you depending on what kind of strain you smoke.

His white shirt peels off next, before both of his sweats and his boxers come off.

‘That’s ok, I’d prefer to be the one taking off your underwear anyway…’ he rambles, the sentiment of his want travelling straight to your clothed core and making it burn with heat.

He stands there in his naked vulnerability and by now the shower has heated up enough to billow steam into the room and fog up the mirror in front of his sink.

‘Can I?’ He speaks gently and raises his eyebrows whilst gesturing to your white panties, decorated with a little brown teddy bear logo on the front of them. As if Chris couldn’t adore you more, your taste in panties makes him feel warm and fuzzy, the effects of the sour diesel only making his attraction to you worse.

You nod and Chris takes that as his chance to step forward and feed his thumbs into the soft cotton fabric bunched around your hips.

To distract you whilst he pulls them down, he starts to kiss you again, and you find yourself sucking on his lip ring whilst your panties drop to your ankles.

Chris’ arms then snake around your back, both pulling you towards him and enabling him to fumble around with the strap to your bra. After successfully unclipping it, he whimpers in victory before pulling away from you.

‘Ladies first’ he jokingly gestures and grasps onto one of your hands like a gentleman whilst he leads you into the shower.

He steps in after you and shuts the glass door, both of you getting soaked in the scalding water as it trickles from the shower head and onto your hair. Chris is quick to make sure that you’re directly under the stream of water so that you can absorb all of the warmth, and he looks at you through water droplet-stained eyelashes.

You smile and blush up at him whilst he gingerly trails his fingertip up the endless waterfalls of water slipping down your curves.

He then starts to draw aimless patterns on your skin, like an artist ravishing his muse.

He threads one of his hands through the thick sopping wet mop of your hair, strands clumping together as he drags his fingertips through it and looks at it in fascination.

Your lips crash against each others once more after a single look passed between you two.

Now it’s almost as if you literally can’t breathe without a constant taste of each other’s flesh.

A nicotine addiction, but for bodies.

After kissing slowly, for a while, Chris’ cock begins to ache.

He detaches himself, now the two of you fully soaking wet and the steam residing between your bodies making its way down your throats. The atmosphere is hot, choking, lustful.

Manoeuvring around you, your slickness throbs at the sight of his arm reaching up to unhook the shower head from its hold. Fat water droplet gather at the bottom of the strands of his long hair, and they drip down to the floor at every movement he makes.

‘Your turn baby…’ he lilts cheekily into your ear after using his other free arm to wrap around your front and pull you into his chest. Using the hand gripping the shower head, he teasingly turns the pressure up until the force of the water is hammering out.

He kisses your cheek, and you feel the grin on his face as you struggle not to crumple into his hold. Your knees feel like buckling, and the ache between your legs is almost strong enough to make you feel dizzy.

‘Chris I-’ you stutter quietly, but he doesn’t give you a chance to finish before he’s quickly moving the burst of water and concentrating it upon your clit.

Your throat echos a cry as you arch your back, your head falling into the crook of his shoulder as he licks his tongue over the tepid skin of your throat.

‘Yeah, you like that don’t you…’ he mumbles cockily against your flesh, the hold he has against the shower head unrelenting, even when trying to squirm away from it.

He keeps a firm lock over your body, and the waves of sensitivity it brings you almost makes you pass out. You whine and pant, slinging your arms behind your head and clawing at Chris’ neck.

You feed your shaking fingertips into his hair to yank on it, practically begging for mercy.

‘Feels so good’ you whimper, and Chris nudges your head to envelop your mouth into his once again. This way, he swallows your noises of extreme euphoria for himself.

Your wet bodies slide together, steaming rising from in between your legs as Chris starts to control the water’s flow against your core by moving the shower head in a circular motion.

‘Open up a bit wider for me baby’ he instructs you soothingly, and uses one of his kneecaps to knock into the back of yours, commanding you to spread your thighs a little farther.

You feverishly nod with an ‘o-ok’ before your wobbling legs are stepping further out and the vibrating pleasure is increasing the more Chris gains access to your clit.

You feel his hard cock brushing in between your ass, and it throbs wildly, Chris no doubt aching to bend you over… which he does, unexpectedly.

He presses your left cheek against the wall and your hands come flying up to slap against the cold tiles whilst he forces your back into an arch.

‘Fuck baby’ you mumble, drunk off of the feeling of Chris touching you in the best possible way.

‘Give it to me momma… wanna hear how good I fuck you… make it loud’.

Chris is smug when he presses his tip into your weepy hole, one of his hands coming up to also lean against the tiles above your head, which gives him the right kind of support. His other hand still works the shower head down at your core, and you let out a strangled moan after he fits himself inside of you.

He stretches you out from behind, and you whine a little in pain at his thickness. ‘Ahh Chris… l-little slower please’ you hiss as you suck your teeth, the rough skin of his cock throbbing inside of you and spreading your walls apart. Your mouth is dropped open and your focus is on breathing as soon as you say this, a line of drool accidentally falling from out of one side of your mouth.

It splatters heavily to the floor next to your foot.

Chris sees this slimy mess, and smirks at how much he’s fucking you up, his ego stroking itself as he slowly pushes his hips forward as per your request.

‘Fuck, look at you getting all hot and bothered… my cock really that big huh?’ He patronises you whilst watching your back rise and fall laboriously at having to take in deep stuttering breaths.

You moan a ‘yes’, feathering your eyes shut just for a second to regain your composure.

Chris grins devilishly, mumbling back a stern but simple ‘take it.’ In response.

So you do, and wait until he fully bottoms out to whine for him to move again.

Chris obeys, and his wet hips snap against your ass, causing a resounding clap sound to cacophony across the expanse of his bathroom with the water in his shower still running and its stream battering quickly against your heat.

Tears almost draw within your eyes as you fully soak in how well he’s treating you, fucking you up from both the front and behind.

He groans lowly in a humongous effort to try and hold off his orgasm, just so that you can have yours first, because he realises that you deserve it a lot more than he does after letting him thrust his cock up into your mouth.

‘That good baby? I feel nice?’ He questions, but of course he already knows you love it because of the way you’re almost pathetically crying for him to go faster.

‘Make me cum please- please make me cum’ your fucked-out voice drawls, your fingernails clawing at the tiles of his shower for traction as his fat tip nudges against the most sensitive part of your core with every thrust he makes.

With the shower head still firmly held against your clit, he helps you build up your organs and after a couple more thrusts, he finally finishes you off.

He drops the still running hose to the floor in favour of gripping onto you and making sure that you don’t fall, his hips continuously going but slowing their roll as he helps you calm down from your high.

After your cunt gets too sensitive to withstand anymore of his hard prick, you tap out, and Chris pulls out, panting in tiredness and stickily jerking himself the rest of the way to his own eventual orgasm.

He squirts his cum rapidly onto your back, and you shiver at the feeling of its warm consistency, twisting your body to try and get a look at it erotically dripping down your ass cheeks.

Both of you heave, trying to catch your breaths in the heat of the shower, which proves to be an even more difficult task as soon as Chris turns you back around to face him.

‘C’mere… want more kisses’ he babyishly mumbles, requesting for your lips softly on his once again with a pretty pout on his moony face.

He whimpers happily after you give in, laughing a little at his afterglow submissiveness before pressing small peppering kisses around the corners of his mouth.

You kiss each other once more, and this time instead of you biting against his piercing, he bites against your bottom lip, your tongues lazily twisting in the swelter of the shower.

You guess that the hot water probably washed away a good half of the drug, because you didn’t feel as high anymore.

You stay there, kissing for a while until Chris decides that he wants to rinse you off.

He passes the shower head that had once been firmly focused on stimulating your clit around your body to wash any cum and sweat away, before announcing that he also wanted to wash your hair for you.

You almost melt at the sentiment and patiently stand there whilst he massages a dollop of shampoo into the roots of your hair, sudsing it up and smiling whilst he combs his long fingers through your strands.

After gently whispering ‘okay, now lean back for me…’, he passes the stream of water over your hair and bites his lip in concentration, wanting to make sure that the experience is just as soothing for you as it is for him.

You almost forget that Chris is just your drug dealer as he helps you out of the shower and grabs one of his white towels from his radiated hand rail.

Wrapping you up in one, he makes sure that you’re warm and snuggly before tying a spare one around his own waist.

Water droplets still drip from his chest as he grabs a small hand towel to place on top of your head. He then gently rubs your hair and tries to dry it as much as he can.

You both giggle at how silly you look in the mirror with the towel messily strewn across your head, which is exemplified by Chris deciding to make you laugh even further by vigorously shaking his wet hair out like a dog.

After you’re dry, he helps you back into your clothes, before playfully patting your ass as you both exit his bathroom, Chris shutting the door behind you two.

You suddenly swallow nervously and get anxious once again.

You just had sex with your dealer… twice.

What the fuck does that mean for your relationship? Are you going to have to block him and never speak to him again? Are you going to have to pretend like none of this ever happened?

You sure hope not.

As all of these worrying thoughts swirl about your mind like a raging storm, Chris suddenly comes in like a ray of sunshine and scares the clouds away with a silly sounding ‘hey, wanna play video games with me? I got a really cool new one over the weekend’.

As if he hadn’t just railed the shit out of you moments earlier.

You feel like this is Chris’ own special way of telling you not to worry about it, you can both think about the consequences later… so you smile back at him, returning to the living room where his old green couch lies before plopping down onto it.

‘Turning down a chance to beat you in Mario Kart like I always do? Never… gimme a remote and you’re on!’

. ݁𖦹₊ ⊹

Author’s notes p.2: I want to make out with drug dealer!Chris to the song Percolator by SZA so bad. Bye- this is so specific but MUCH needed. Thank you all for waiting on the much anticipated arrival of Sour diesel part 2, I hope you guys enjoyed it as much as I did and likewise, I should be getting to work on cherry popper real soon! Ask, and request anything as always… until next time babies :)

Taglist: @luverboychris @lovingmattysposts @luvmila444 @luv4kozume @stursweet @strniohoeee @strawberrysturniolo @thesturniolos @sturniolosreads @vecnasnose0 @meanttomeet @ellie-luvsfics @matthemunch @mattsleftnipple03 @robins-scoop @asturniolos @imwetforyourmom @nicksmainbitch @sturnioloenthusiast @breeloveschris @kvtie444 @rootbeerworshiper @chr1sgirl4life @hrt-attack @gigisworldsstuff @stargirlsturniololover @imlidewwallyhittingdagwiddy @sturniololoverr @jahlisa22 @bernardsgf @luvasr @meg-sturniolo @blahbel668 @liz-stxrn @sturnreblog @ratatioulle @isabellehoran @1800chokedathoe @sturnsmadl @sturniolossmut @creamoncreamoncream2 @mattslolita @sturniolowhore @skadltmf @sturniolosstar @luvsturns @mattestrella @hearts4chriss @orangeypepsi

#matt sturniolo #sturniolo smut #sturniolo triplets #chris sturniolo #christopher sturniolo #sturniolo #nick sturniolo #nicolas sturniolo #matthew sturniolo #chris sturniolo smut #chris sturniolo imagine #chris sturniolo x you #chris sturniolo x reader #chris x reader

786 notes · View notes

jupipedia · 10 months

Text

— mine yours. - s. gojo. playboy!gojo x reader. warnings : nsfw [ minor do not interact!! ], cunnilingus, orgasm denial, possessive!gojo, praising, lowkey angst, tbh this is pretty tame, not beta read lol, idk if i missed anything !

gojo was infuriating to say the least.

he was beyond spoiled, born with a silver spoon in his mouth. he was used to the best. he had the best clothes, the best schools, the best friends, and even the best women. he's known for having a new girl every now and then, always just as beautiful as the last, driving them around his luxury car until he got bored of them and dropped them.

he's used to getting his way every time, not settling until things were in his favor. he hates being told no when he wants something. he's persistent in all of the wrong ways and for all of the wrong reasons.

however, you couldn't bring yourself to complain as he was knuckles deep into your core, curling his fingers perfectly as he sucked on you clit. your hands were tangled in his white hair, back arched off of your comforter as you withered in pleasure.

the arrangement between the two of you was a bit different that gojo was used to. the girls he was with usually like being shown off. they liked being spoiled with the little gifts he would give them. they would brag about him to anyone who would listen, even going as far to post pictures of the two of them kissing, not that he minded.

you, on the other hand, acted like he barely existed despite spending almost every night in his bed and almost every morning eating at his house, wearing one of his shirts. you didn't go out of your way to see him, you didn't accept any of the things he bough you aside from a necklace on your birthday, hell you didn't even speak to him when you were in the same room if other people were there. he would be lying if he said his pride wasn't hurt.

"got the sweetest pussy, pretty girl," he muttered around your clit, the vibrations adding to the stimulation as you tightened your grip on his hair. he'd spent the last half hour between your legs, having pulled three powerful orgasms from you. he would deny you your release and have the ache build up a few times which led to an earth-shattering orgasm that made your ears ring and vision blur.

"everything about you is just so cute," he released your clit and took one last swipe through your folds before he began to kiss up your torso, stopping to deliver a harsh suck at each nipple before continuing his path to your lips. "so. fucking. cute."

"toru," you whined out as he removed his fingers from your cunt, bringing them to his lips to suck clean before kissing you deeply, your heady taste present on his tongue.

"patience, beautiful. you and i need to have a little chat," he said, opening the foil of the condom with his teeth and rolling it on. as he lined himself up with your entrance, he spread your legs, offering himself a full view of your cunt.

"we have to talk right now? it can't wait—ah!" gojo ignored your words, pushing slowly into your heat and pausing when he was mostly inside.

"please move," you tried to thrust your hips, but gojo was quick to pin them back to mattress.

"here's how this is gonna go. i'll move as much as you want me to, but you don't get to cum until you say that you're mine," he groaned in your ear, unable to resist the shiver crawling up his spine as he settled deeper into your core. you tossed your head back as the tip of his cock scraped your walls deliciously.

"didn't know—fuck!" your snarky remark died on your tongue as he suddenly began to thrust his hips, setting a pace that numbed your mind.

"you can keep the sarcastic remarks. not interested in those right now," he grunted, biting down on your shoulder, hoping to ground himself. your mind grew foggy as you grew closer to your release. you couldn't form coherent words, let alone fulfill gojo's request.

you weren't totally clueless as to where this behavior came from. if anyone asked you if you even knew gojo, you would deny it without hesitation. it didn't matter how many times he fucked you or how many late night dates the two of you went on, you would not admit to dating the man.

and it wasn't even to save face, you just didn't think what you and gojo had going on was that serious. you knew his track record and thought it'd be best to skip any unnecessary future drama that would come with being "satoru's girl".

"'t-toru~ i'm gonna—n-no, please~," you whined as gojo's thrusts paused as your release approached.

"aht aht aht, you haven't said it so you don't get to cum," he said, continuing his pace when he was sure your pending orgasm subsided.

"satoru please! i just wan' cum on your cock," you whined in his ear, arching your back as he grazed your g-spot.

"and i wanna hear you say that you're mine. mine to kiss. mine to hold. mine to fuck," he emphasized his sentences with harsh thrusts. "my girl."

"why—ah! why w-would i say that when y-you aren't mine? i k-know how you work, 'toru," you pushed out, forcing yourself to focus on speaking as he fucked you dumb.

gojo paused in his thrusts to look at you, disbelief painting his face. "you think i spend my friday nights watching scooby doo movies with you just so i can fuck you? you think i wake up before you to cook you breakfast just so i can get some pussy? you think that i help you go over your proposals a thousand time as test runs because i just want to have sex with you? i must've fucked you stupid or something because that's the stupidest shit i've ever heard you say."

"'toru, you know that's not what i meant. i was just saying—fuck!" your arms shot out to hold gojo's hips, hoping to stop his resumed thrusting.

"i know you meant, pretty," he hummed as he picked up his pace. "change of plans. you can come as many times as you want, but i'm not stopping until you understand that not only are you mine, but i'm yours. got it?"

fuck, you were in for a long night.

#— (jupipedia.)#— (jupiter: after hours.)#gojo satoru x reader #satoru gojo x reader #gojo x reader #gojo smut #gojo satoru smut #satoru gojo smut #jjk x black reader #jjk x reader #jjk smut #jjk gojo #anime x black!reader #anime x black reader #*ੈ✩‧₊˚❕*∘∘˙˚༄💨 ( a jupiter production. )

2K notes · View notes

cozage · 7 months

Note

Hello, can I request for aged up characters x reader. Like them getting hit by a quirk that can age people up temporarily like them being in their 60's or something. Thank youuuuuu.

A/N: I FINALLY DID IT HERE U GO Characters: gn reader x Zoro, Usopp, Law, Ace Cw: Ace’s gets a little suggestive ;) Total word count: 1.2k

A Glimpse of the Future

Zoro

When you entered the kitchen, you were startled to find an older man walking around so casually. An older man with a scarred eye and green hair you knew so well, now slightly streaked with gray.

“Zoro?!” You asked cautiously, staring at the man.

“I don’t want to talk about it,” he grumbled. His voice was deeper than you remembered, but it was the same voice.

“What hap-”

“I don’t want to talk about it.” He set his swords down and sat on the chair. After a heavy sigh, he finally spoke again. “Got hit by an ability that makes you old. Just a stupid prank from some kid.”

“Is it permanent?” you asked, grabbing the tea kettle off the stove. You had to admit, you liked this look on Zoro. But you were afraid of what it could mean.

“Should be back to normal in a few hours.” He shook his head and sighed. “Everything aches, dammit. I hate this.”

“You always were an old man in soul,” you teased. You were relieved that he wouldn’t be this way forever, and now you could joke around with him.

“I’m not an old man!” he yelled.

You had to turn around and pretend to work on your tea to stifle your laugh. He really was sensitive over this. Just like an old man would be.

“Calm down, now,” you soothed, walking over to him with a warm cup for the two of you to share. “Would you like some tea?”

He eyed it, and you could tell he wanted a drink, so you passed it off to him.

“You don’t look bad, you know.” You ran your fingers through his hair, gently trailing over the new silver streaks.

“Yeah, whatever,” he grumbled, taking a drink and humming in delight. “I’m not meant to be this old.”

“Darling, I disagree.” You paused to kiss his cheek. “You were made for your golden years.”

Usopp

“Quick! Y/N! I need you!” An old man who looked shockingly like Usopp grabbed your hand.

You scowled, pulling away from him. “Who the hell are you?!”

“I’m Usopp from the future!” He yelled, trying to usher you from the deck. “I’ve traveled through space and time just to reach you and give you a warning!”

“What warning?” you asked. You were still cautious, but he did act a lot like the Usopp you knew. The only big difference was the wrinkles and the streaks of gray in his long, tied-back hair.

“Come with me immediately!” he said. “It’s been years since I’ve seen you! We don’t have much time!”

“Usopp, stop. You’re scaring me.” Why had he not seen you in years? Why did he have such little time with you? None of it made sense.

Old Usopp grabbed your face, holding you close to him. “On this day, in twenty years…you’re going to disappear right from this very spot!”

“What?” you whispered, trying to hold back tears. “What do you mean?”

“He’s lying to you!” Nami yelled. “He got hit by an ability that makes him old and he’s making it everyone else’s problem!”

Your fear turned to anger, and you shoved Usopp away from you. “That wasn’t funny!” you shouted, wiping a tear from your eye.

Usopp started cackling. “Oh man, you look terrified! I’m sorry, babe. I didn’t mean to scare you.”

“That wasn’t funny,” you repeated, still glaring at him. In hindsight, it was kind of humorous. You just wished the prank had been played on someone else.

Usopp pulled you in for a hug, his soft, weathered lips kissing your temple. “Forgive me?”

“This time,” you giggled slightly from his stray hairs tickling your skin. “Just don’t do it again, okay?”

“Deal,” he said. “Now let's go trick someone else.”

Law

An older man with Law’s exact outfit stormed into your room and rushed to the bathroom.

“Don’t say anything,” he said.

“Law?” You cautiously peered around the door frame.

His expressions and stance were familiar, but he was older. Much older.

“I don’t want to talk about it!”

You flinched at the sternness in his voice; it was much harsher when mixed with the gruffness of age.

He noticed you in the mirror, wearily standing back and watching him silently. His tone had been extreme, and he knew it.

He gave a sigh and pulled himself away from the mirror to walk towards you. “I’m sorry, I’m just frustrated about all this.”

You reached up and ran your hand across his hair, the black locks now streaked with white. You smiled to yourself. Even in his old age, Law was still incredibly handsome.

“You’re old,” you whispered out the sentence, grinning at him.

Law’s eye twitched, but he said nothing in response. You could tell he was pouting.

“Is it permanent?” you asked, rubbing your finger across his softened skin, now decorated with wrinkles.

“Should wear off by tomorrow morning,” he grumbled.

You hummed pleasantly, still examining his weathered face. His sharp, golden eyes were so out of place on a face that old.

“Well, Trafalgar Law,” you purred, running your hands through his hair and placing a kiss on his lips. “If this is what I have waiting in store for the future, I simply cannot wait.”

Ace

The door to your cabin opened, Ace’s silhouette blocking out the light behind him. You couldn’t see his face, but something felt…off.

“Don’t freak out,” Ace’s voice was far more husky than you remembered it, and his words sent a jolt of panic through your bones.

“Ace?” You sat up in the bed, squinting to get a better look.

“It’s only temporary,” he said.

“Ace, you’re scaring me. What’s wrong?” You stood out of bed and walked to the door to greet him.

Yes, something was definitely off. His body was bigger than you remembered, more stocky and muscular. His hair was longer. It was Ace, but it wasn’t the Ace you knew.

“Something went wrong on the mission, but everyone’s okay. We’re just…”

You couldn't stand it anymore. You turned his body slightly so you could see it in the light.

“Old!” you exclaimed, staring at him with wide eyes. “You’re old!”

You could see a slight flash of irritation dance across his face, and you giggled. He certainly was attractive, even irritated in his old age. The kind of old man who would yell at kids to stay away from his house one moment and then run to play with them the next.

“You’re handsome, Portgas D. Ace.” You tucked his long hair behind his ear and ran your thumb across his cheek.

“You think so?” He gave you a slightly cocky grin, but you could tell he was still self-conscious about it.

Your eyes trailed down his body, sinful thoughts filling your head. “How long are you like this?”

He shrugged. “Few hours, I think. We can just sleep it off.”

You blushed, your fingers trailing down his chest. “Who says we have to sleep it off?”

Ace’s mouth fell open, and then quickly corrected into a devious grin. “You, my dear, have major daddy issues.”

You rolled your eyes. “You’re one to talk.”

2K notes · View notes

rynwritesreid · 9 days

Note

hi hello yes i just read your post ab spencer buying the necklace and it was amazing and i was hoping to see a pt 2 with spencer buying an anklet with his initials for the reader? and at first you thought it was a bracelet but then he tells you it’s only for him so he can see it while y’all are fucking and your legs are on his shoulders 👀

A/N: You guys have to stop coming up with such good ideas :,). to anon, I am so glad you liked the first part to this, I hope this is everything you want it to be.

Summary: Spencer feels it's unfair that you don't have a piece of jewellery with his initials on it, and decided to make things right. But when you find out the reasoning him for picking an anklet over a bracelet, you can't wait to see if his idea matches reality.

Content: Smut 18+. Fluff. Dom!Spencer. Fem!reader. oral (F!receiving) No mentions of contraception. Penetration. Creampie. some aftercare mentioned. Possessive Spencer. Pet names (princess and my love).

Masterlist| requests are open| navigation

After Spencer had seen your reaction to his necklace with your initials, he thought it was only fair in getting you something. However, while Spencer enjoyed seeing how effective a little piece of jewellery was in stopping him from getting unwarranted interactions, he didn’t necessarily want that for you.

So, when you came home to see Spencer with a carefully gift-wrapped box you weren’t too surprised as he did love getting you gifts, but you had no idea what he had gotten you.

“What’s this?” you asked, eyeing the box suspiciously. Spencer grinned mischievously, enjoying the anticipation written all over your face.

Open it and see," he urged, handing you the box.

You carefully peeled away the wrapping paper, revealing a sleek black velvet box. With a quick glance at Spencer, who was practically bouncing with anticipation, you lifted the lid to find a stunning silver bracelet nestled inside. As you looked closer you could see an S and R entwined in an elegant script, just like the necklace he had. You gasped, running your fingers over the delicate design as a smile spread across your face.

"It's beautiful, Spencer," you whispered, feeling touched by his thoughtful gesture. He beamed with pride, clearly pleased with your reaction. “Can you help me put it on?”

“Of course I can, my love.” He paused for a brief second. “But I do have a confession to make about it.” Spencer’s cheeks seemed to become a light shade of pink, his eyes twinkly with mischief. “It’s not.” He coughed slightly, one of the nervous ticks you had noticed about him when you two first started dating, “it’s not a bracelet. It’s an anklet.”

You raised an eyebrow, a playful smile tugging at your lips. "An anklet?" you echoed, pretending to be surprised. Spencer nodded, a sheepish grin spreading across his face.

"I thought it would look perfect on you," he explained. With a chuckle, you sat down and lifted your leg for him to fasten the anklet around your ankle. “And, well this is for my eyes only.”

“For your eyes only, huh?” you raised an eyebrow, a teasing glint in your eyes. Spencer's cheeks flushed even deeper as he nodded, his gaze locked on your ankle as he fastened the anklet securely in place. “I didn’t know you admired my ankles this much, Spencer.”

Spencer let out a nervous laugh, feeling caught in his attempt to keep the anklet more of a private sentiment. “It’s not your ankles I’ll be admiring when I am looking at this.” Spencer moved a little closer to your ear. “It’s the fact they’ll be resting on my shoulders.” He stated in a whispered tone.

"Spencer," you began, your voice barely above a whisper as you reached out to cup his cheek, "you never cease to amaze me." His eyes sparkled with affection and a hint of something more as he leaned in closer, his breath warm against your lips. “Should we test it out. Because I also want to know what it will look like on your shoulders.” You whispered, a playful twinkle in your eye.

Spencer was more than eager to test it out, he also loved knowing there was always going to be a reminder on you that you belong to him. With a shared grin, you both rose from the couch, your new anklet glinting in the soft light of the room. Spencer's hand found yours, his touch warm and reassuring as he led you to the bedroom.

As you reached the edge of the bed, Spencer gently turned you to face him. His eyes held a depth of emotion that took your breath away, a silent promise lingering in their depths. Without breaking eye contact, he slowly knelt before you, his fingers deftly tracing the delicate chain of the anklet around your ankle.

"Beautiful," Spencer murmured, his voice barely above a whisper. "But not as beautiful as you." The sincerity in his words made your heart flutter, a warmth spreading through you at his tender gesture. Silently, he rose to his feet, his eyes never leaving yours as he led you to the bed.

With a gentle hand on the small of your back, Spencer guided you to sit on the edge of the mattress. He moved closer, his breath mingling with yours as he leaned in to capture your lips in a soft, lingering kiss. The world seemed to fade away in that moment, leaving just the two of you lost in each other.

As the kiss deepened, Spencer's hands began to explore, his touch setting your skin ablaze with desire. You responded eagerly, your fingers threading through his hair as you pulled him closer. The anklet felt like a secret between the two of you, a symbol of your connection and the intimacy you shared.

Clothes were shed in a flurry of urgency, but there was a tenderness in each caress, a deep-seated love that transcended mere physical desire. But Spencer was not in a hurry to do anything else, he wanted to take his time with you, admire you.

As you lay in your shared bed with him, he couldn’t imagine been anywhere else. “I love you so much.” His voice husky and filled with lust. He started to kiss your neck, but he started moving down.

He peppered kisses down your neck and traced the curves of your skin with his lips, leaving a trail of fire in his wake. Your breath hitched as he reached your collarbone, his touch igniting a passion that burned brightly between you. Spencer's hands roamed your body with reverence, mapping every dip and curve as if committing you to memory.

You closed your eyes, savouring the sensation of his lips on your skin, the love and desire mingling into a heady cocktail that enveloped you both. His movements were slow and deliberate.

Spencer's kisses trailed lower, his hands guiding the path as he worshipped every inch of you. When he finally reached the curve of your hip, he paused, his eyes meeting yours with a mix of adoration and hunger. Without a word, he pressed a soft kiss to your hipbone, a silent promise of all that was to come.

As his mouth finally meet your clit, almost by instinct, you wrapped your legs around his neck. You gasped at the sudden intimacy, the surge of desire overwhelming you. Your hips bucked instinctively, the need to feel him against you consuming you. He smiled against you, a mischievous glint in his eyes, and began to move his tongue in a rhythmic pattern that made your body clench.

With each stroke of his tongue, your moans grew louder, each one a testament to the pleasure building within you. His fingers found their way to your throbbing core, sliding inside you with ease. The sensation was too much, too intense, and you cried out his name, your body shaking with the force of your orgasm.

Spencer pulled himself away from you, and gently pulled you to the edge of the bed. He grabbed your legs and placed them above his shoulders, his eyes never leaving yours. As he began to line himself up, he couldn’t believe how lucky he is, seeing his initials dangle from your leg and how you react to every touch he gives you, he knew you would always be his.

As he entered you, slowly at first, your eyes locked in a passionate gaze with his own. Your breath hitched as he made his way deeper, claiming you fully. Your senses were heightened, the anticipation and longing that had built between you now manifesting in the most intimate of ways.

Spencer moved with purpose, his movements slow and deliberate, each one designed to bring you closer to the edge. He could feel your body responding to his, the perfectly synchronized dance of your hips and his thrusts.

“Spencer, you feel so good.” You basically moaned out.

Spencer briefly moved his attention away from your eyes and turned it towards your ankle. Although this was Spencer’s favourite position before, because of how deep he could get, it had somehow become even better.

Seeing the anklet on your ankle, with his initials, as he thrust into you was an erotic sight for him. And while Spencer was definitely more dominant than you, and he did sometimes like to act like that when it came to sex, what he said next seemed to be a bit of shock for you.

“You feel so good, princess. Especially now, knowing you belong to me and that no other man will ever get to look at you like this. Because these, are my initials.” Spencer stated, his eyes glinting with a mixture of possessiveness and love.

You moaned softly, your hips bucking against him in response. "You belong to me, always," Spencer promised, his voice low and husky with desire. "And I will make sure everyone knows it."

You knew Spencer was just stating a fact, but hearing it like that, it seemed so much more real than before.

Spencer's movements grew more urgent, his thrusts becoming harder and deeper. You could feel your climax growing near, the pleasure building up inside you.

"Spencer," you gasped, your voice barely above a whisper. "Please, I need you to...please, don't stop."

He smiled at you, a mix of tenderness and dominance in his eyes. "Don't worry, I won't. I'll give you whatever you need."

With that, he increased his pace, driving deeper into you. You could hear him moaning softly, his breath hot against your ear as he thrust into you.

Your body tensed, the pleasure overwhelming you as you felt the sensation of a climax building within you. Spencer knew the moment it hit you, his fingers digging into your hips as he matched your rhythm. As you cried out his name, he thrust harder, his own release not far off.

His eyes locked onto yours, the intensity and passion etched across his face. "Look at you," he murmured, his voice husky with desire. "You're so beautiful, so perfect, and all mine."

With a final thrust, Spencer groaned out your name, his pleasure intertwined with your own. Your bodies pressed together, sweating, and gasping for air, as the aftershocks of your orgasm rippled through you. You could feel his heart pounding against your chest, the evidence of his love for you, and vice versa.

“Let’s get you all cleaned up.” Spencer whispered softly, a hint of possession in his voice. He gently pulled out of you, admiring the wetness that had pooled between your legs. You watched as he stood up and walked over to the bathroom, his body still glistening with sweat.

He turned on the water and adjusting the temperature to warm, he walked back into the bedroom, as he knew it would be almost impossible for you to walk and carried you into the shower.

He gently placed you under the cascading water, his hands caressing your body as he washed you clean. The water was warm and soothing, but the real heat came from the look in his eyes as he admired your naked body.

"You are mine," he said softly, his fingers tracing the wet skin of your back. "And I will never let you go."

~join my taglist~

~taglist~

@iluvreid @nomajdetective @drspencieee @katieeeee314 @evvy96 @oliviah-25 @starkid024 @emalynvtgtgfhvgg @krokietino @xohoneybun @spencerreidwifeee @purplepistachi0 @pleasantwitchgarden @bitchassbecky691 @piperb400 @queermaxwooo @gemofthenight @luvpiercethekaty @anna-belle-xd @catsareawesomek @drreidsfavwhxre @oureternalbond @beth-gallagher22 @keiva1000 @k3nzxx @lookingforgodintheclouds @firstunmannedflyingdeskset @matthew-gray-gubler-lover @r-3dlips @keiva1000 @peppersapro @just-a-harmless-patato @spenxerslut @skulliecadaver-blog @svnfully @reidsgirlhottie @amethysssssst @bluepuppethidinginafilingcabinet @lover-of-books-and-tea @Indigosamsblog @khxna @jem08 @ladylincoln @khxna @Kimm4710 @karenfrancoespinosa-blog @Ltscar9 @niktwazny303 @sleepysongbirdsings @st4rdusks

#spencer reid smut #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid #spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid x fem!reader #dr spencer reid #spencer reid x reader #criminal minds #spencer reid x you #criminal minds x reader #dom spencer reid #sub reader #mgg smut #criminal minds smut #spencer reid fanfiction #doctor spencer reid #criminal minds fandom #spencer reid imagine

809 notes · View notes

fangisms · 7 months

Note

If you take requests can you write a fic about draco wanting the reader's attention all day but someone or something something always getting in the way ? Bonus if he gets a lil moody about it too

(Feel free to ignore if a bother tho ♡) :)

bellyaching

A/N: you GUYS i cranked this out in an afternoon, do u understand im OBSESSED with moody draco

Pairings: Draco Malfoy x Fem!Reader

Summary: Draco is desperate for your attention, and desperate times call for desperate Slytherins. 1.1k words

Warnings: fluff, very very minor boy angst, slytherin behavior, moody/dramatic draco, established relationship

“Babe.”

It’s hushed, Draco doesn’t want to catch Flitwick’s attention while trying to grab yours. But it’s not easy when you’re seated in the row in front of him, and he’s desperately leaning over his workspace to reach you.

“Baby,” he mumbles, and you glance over your shoulder with a start. Then, smiling, you wave, and he’s soothed for just a moment. You turn back around and he’s practically pouting. He taps your shoulder with the paper rose he had so painstakingly folded for you. He’s got the paper cuts to prove it.

Draco taps your shoulder with the stem. You turn your head and hold one finger to your lips. You shushed him. You shushed him. He settles back in his seat, arms folded over his chest, wilted paper rose forgotten on his desk.

…

After class, you’re walking beside him, arm happily tucked within his as he escorts you to your Advanced Mythology lesson. Though he’s feeling a little deflated, having you near makes him feel better. And realizing that you’ve got a few minutes to spare before next class, he pulls you to the side of the hall, abandoning his friends to walk ahead.

Tucked beneath one of the awnings, he holds your books beneath his arm and pulls you closer.

“Draco!” you yelp, resisting his onslaught of hurried kisses, “We have class, remember? It’s that thing we are required to attend five days a week? We learn a lot of subjects? Sometimes they give us lunch hour—?”

“We’ll have plenty of time to get to class,” he huffs, pecking your bottom lip and the apple of your cheek.

“Draco, you’ve been late to nearly all of your classes because of—”

“Not because of you. I am solely responsible for my tardiness—ow!” You pinch his side and giggle when he slumps into your shoulder—“‘S not fair you’re so kissable.”

You roll your eyes and press your lips to the side of his sad face, “fine. You can have one kiss. Make it quick.”

At that, Draco perks up. You playfully pucker your lips, and as he leans in—You’ve got to be kidding.

“There you are! Come on, we’ve only got five minutes to get to class, and I’d rather not be forced to polish anymore silver!” Pansy grabs you by the crook of your elbow, dragging you out into hall. You wave at Draco and quickly catch up with Pansy.

For Merlin’s sake, is he not allowed one moment alone with his beloved.

…

The rest of the day goes just as smooth. As in not smooth at all. As in Draco’s day has been a complete shit show, and you’ve been otherwise occupied for just about every second of it.

First, he face plants during a scrimmage. Then, you tell him you’re using the afternoon to study with the girls in the library. You said he’s welcome to join but he knows that means he would be the only male attending and, therefore, it would be excruciatingly awkward.

Suffice to say, he’s spent the last few hours sulking and moaning to himself. Enzo thinks it’s hilarious.

When you finally sit next to him at dinner, he’s still stewing in his anger. Yes, it’s gotten to anger.

“Good evening, dear Draco!” you coo. And he’s clearly not having it, picking away at his food and only acknowledging you with a curt huff. You look to Theodore in shock, eyes wide when he shrugs.

“He’s been like this all day,” Mattheo says, “Think you could be a dear and fix him for us?”

You look over at Draco, who’s taken to scowling at the two boys. So you brush his hair out of his face and flatten his hood against his back.

“What’s wrong? I feel like I haven’t seen you all day?” you say, tilting your head. He huffs.

“I think you mean you’ve been ignoring me all day.”

“Draco!” you say, surprised by his sudden volume and honestly amused by his apparent lack of awareness. “What’s with the attitude?” He doesn’t respond, so you cross your arms over your chest. At this point, you’ve got the entire Great Hall’s attention. And winner for most dramatic couple goes to… “Come on, Draco, don’t just sit there and sulk, talk to me!”

“Oh, now you want to talk? Are you sure? Maybe you should go and study with your friends or read a book or do anything other than ask me how my day has been,” he whines. Enzo can’t help but snicker.

Your jaw drops, and you mumble, "Lower your voice, drama queen, I’m—"

“No, I’ve been trying to spend time with you all day, and you just shrug me off and find something better to do! What if I wanted to walk you to class and study with you?”

“We can still study together this week.”

“That’s not the point, babe. I wanted to spend time with you today,” he says, defeated and back to prodding at his meal tirelessly.

You sigh.

“I’m sorry, Draco. I had no idea”—you list his hand from the edge of the table and fit your fingers gently between his own—“I didn’t mean to starve you of attention. How careless of me.”

Draco presses his thumb against your hand, and he just barely turns his head to look at you.

“You’re teasing me,” he huffs. You look down at your hands and smile.

“A little,” you say, “But I am sorry. I should have listened to you. And asked you about your day. How was it by the way?”

“Ate complete shit out on the pitch. Found out I’m too needy for my girlfriend. Other than that, just peachy.”

“Draco,” you whine, pouting and cupping his face. “I’m sorry. And you’re not too needy for me, I’m just a bit daft.”

He shrugs, trying not to smile so wide and failing. Just happy to have you near him again.

“Oh, I have something for you”—he reaches into his pocket and pulls out the floppy rose—“Made it in charms.”

You hold its fragile, wrinkled frame in your cupped hands, frowning at it then at him.

“You made this for me?”

“Yeah. And it says ‘you look pretty’ on the inside, but I think if you try to unfold it, it’ll actually disintegrate,” he says.

You lean in swiftly for a kiss, but pause on the way.

“You two? Look away,” you grumble at Theo and Mattheo, snapping a spell against both of their cheeks. They wince and apologize, and Draco snickers.

He kisses you, tugging at your open robe and smiling against your lips when you reach for his other hand.

masterlist

#draco malfoy #draco x y/n #draco x fem!reader #draco x reader #draco malfoy x reader #draco malfoy x fem!reader #draco #fluff #fanfic #hp universe #x reader #fanfiction #x fem!reader #established relationship

2K notes · View notes

nastyaromatherapy · 7 months

Text

"Fuck Maddy" (18+)

Nate fucks you at a party in a way to get back/over his ex.

to the anon who sent me an Ethan request, i see u 🫡

pairing - nate jacobs x fem!reader

one shot length, 1.3k+ word fic

warnings: PIV, swallowing spitting, delusional ass reader, teensy bit of drinking

You had a crush on Nate Jacobs since eighth grade. But it was nothing special. Who didn't? He was cute, played football, and came from a respectful family. What was there not to love?

You've had your eye on him since you were 13, and you were now a senior. Still no luck with him. Your friends would always tell you to give up, especially after he started dating Maddy Perez. She was the hottest most confident cheerleader in school. But there was a party coming up and you knew they were fighting. You knew it was your time to shine.

You didn't tell your friends because you knew they would obviously not approve. "Y/n, what the fuck were you thinking?" You could just imagine their scolding.

So, you got one of your guy friends to drop you off, one that was semi close to Nate. They played football together. You never considered him because he was sweet, kind, medium ugly, not the best at football just not your type.

The two of you enter the party and quickly go your separate ways. You wore a skimpy dress which kept hiking up whenever you took a step. You took a scope of the cars and didn't recognize any of them except for Nate's silver truck. You rushed inside to search for your parasocial boyfriend. And then there he was in the kitchen, downing shots like a champ.

You rubbed at your waterline just in case, trying to erase as much flaking mascara and eye boogers as possible. You approached the island with a smirk you've practiced for awhile. "Can I take shots with you?" You ask him confidently. "No," he gawked, making a face. You kept your face straight, you've been teaching yourself things about Nate. One thing was to not take the stuff he said to heart. He chuckled when he noticed your never changing expression. "Okay yeah, sure."

He knocked the stuff off of the island, making people gasp and groan at his arrogance. Typical. He laid you on the cold surface, lifting up your dress. "Body shots," he said with a smirk. Everyone cheered his name as he poured the bottle of liquor down a line on your body, from your chest to your naval. He's quick to lick it up and he stares at you coldly as he does so. God was he hot, you felt heat build up in your core. Your cheeks flushed, and you sat up on your elbows after he finished slurping the drink and everyone stopped their cheers.

He smirked and walked off through the crowd, probably going to talk to McKay or something.

Nate's friends started to egg him on. "Yo, that girl was fine as hell hit that before I do, shi," and "I heard your girl Mads was getting around, fucking some bitch in the pool," "Shit that's my mom's pool!" It all started to get to Nate's head. You were hot, sure, but you weren't Maddy. But if Maddy got to fuck a bitch, why couldn't he?

He found you dancing on the dancefloor with some of your guy friends and approached you. "Y/n, right?" He asks with a smirk. "Yeah," you giggled out, a little tipsy. "Care to dance?"

You agreed and started to dance as he joined in. The two of you inched closer to each other, and soon the dancing became grinding. You could hear his groans, even over the loud music. His eyes flicked to out the window where he saw Maddy all over some random guy. "Come on," he said, dragging you by your wrist. You stumbled behind him and he led you to a bathroom.

He threw his lips onto yours, groaning into your mouth. He knew you were just a random girl, but he imagined you as Maddy. His girl, not a random one. You knew that, but you didn't care, this was your chance with fucking Nate Jacobs.

He reached his hand up your skirt, finger pads coming in contact with your damp panties, making your breath hitch. He smirked against your lips.

He slipped his tee off, exposing his fit torso. He's quick to take off your dress as well, leaving you in your matching set. He reaches down to grab your ass, and sits you onto the countertop. He reconnects his lips with yours hungrily, tilting your head up by the back of your neck.

He pulled away and grabbed your tender thighs, spreading them open. He slipped your panties off and crouched down to be eye level with your pussy. He licked a stripe up it, not breaking eye contact, before plunging in two fingers then standing back fully up.

Your eyebrows curled upwards as you looked in his eyes. He bit his lip, focusing on his movements, fingers curling inside your wet cunt. Your dreams were becoming a reality. He slowly left his mouth agape and continued to finger you, your legs inching wider and wider.

You felt that knot build up in your stomach, moans starting to escape from your lips. You didn't care how loud you were, no one would hear you or care. Your sounds just made him hungrier and he thrusted faster. Wet squishy sounds filling the room. With a final moan coming from you, you cum around his fingers, thighs clenching.

"Fuck," he mutters to himself, pulling his fingers out of your cunt and sticking them into yet another wet and warm hole: your mouth. You took his fingers and gagged on them as he chuckled to himself. His fingers were salty, and it could've been because of your unconditional attraction, but you found it intoxicating. He pulled them out of your mouth, a string of spit following after it, making you pant slowly.

He looked down at you while biting his lip as he started to unbuckle his jeans. His pants dropped to his knees, followed by his boxers, leaving his cock free. You just so badly wanted to suck him off, practically salivating. But he had other plans. He spread open your aching thighs once more, lining himself up to your gaping opening. He leans in to the crook of your neck, teeth grazing on your shoulder as he slid in, your pussy swallowing his length whole.

You whined when he entered you, gripping on the faucet and the edge of the counter. He started moving in and out, slow but deep. He breathes loudly in your ear, sending shivers down your spine and making your hairs stick up erect. Your moans in his ear make him greedier, speeding up, hitting that same spot inside of you repeatedly. The two of you stayed silent for most of the time, letting out grunts, groans and moans but no words. Just focused on the pleasure of the moment.

The mirror behind you started to cloud as he started to get close. You could feel him twitch inside of you and him getting louder. You clenched tighter around him, wanting to feel that sweet cum inside you, but again that's not what he had in mind.

He picked you up off of the counter, still inside of you, before finally pulling out and putting you down on the ground in front of him. Your mouth watered being eye to eye with his throbbing cock, covered in your wetness before taking it into your mouth, sucking him sweetly. He groans as you work your tongue around his shaft as your throat takes his tip, gagging when it hits your esophagus. He throws his head back and starts to buck his hips in and out of your mouth before cummings down your throat. You pull off of him and regurgitate the semen, letting it drip down his cock and your chin to the floor.

He pants, wiping sweat off his forehead before removing yourself with your heavenly mouth.

He pulls his pants and boxers back up and grab his shirt from the floor. "Yeah, fuck Maddy," he says before leaving the room.

#nate euphoria #euphoria x reader #euphoria #smut #euphoria smut #nate jacobs x y/n #nate jacobs x you #nate jacobs smut #nate jacobs #nate jacobs x reader #nate jacobs fic #nate jacobs fanfic #euphoria fic #euphoria imagine #nate jacobs imagine #jacob elordi #jacob elordi fanfiction

2K notes · View notes

lunargrapejuice · 1 month

Note

hello lovely luna !! i hope life has been treating you well, i’ve been missing u ♥️

for the prompt game, can i request “you’re not in bed. i came looking for you” with my beloved diluc? i’ve been struggling with insomnia n i just want diluc to put me to sleep ໒꒰ྀིっ˕ -｡꒱ྀི১

oh my whole heart was poured into this one i'm aching. i did not mean for it to this long but what can i do he has my heart and soul🩷 i hope you like it awea! i love n miss you too🥺💕

🌙 prompt event

“you’re not in bed. i came looking for you” | diluc x reader with no pronouns used

the winery at night is blanketed in the ethereal silver glow of the moon this time of night. it feels like something out of a fairy tale with the thick grape vines lining the path you walk, sparkling crystal flies silent in the flutter of their wings, and if you look hard enough even in the moonlight you can see the plump purple grapes.

it’s cool in a way that feels wonderful against your heated skin but not enough to make you cold and with each breath you take, you try to let the fresh air ease your mind that just won’t stop moving and thinking no matter how much you will it to. you honestly aren’t sure if being out here is working but it feels nice, peaceful and you’re glad to not be tossing and turning in bed while your beloved tries to sleep next to you.

you didn’t want to wake diluc, not when you knew how desperately he needed the sleep despite the fact you’re sure he would tell you he’s doing just fine on the little he does get. it wouldn’t stop you from doing your best to try to get tired all on your own before slipping back into bed, looking after him in this way.

but it was as if he felt the distance between you growing even in his dreams. his tired arm reaches for you on your side of the bed, needing to pull you closer to him before he could settle once again and when he’s met with cooling sheets barely clinging with your warmth, he’s instantly awake, ruby eyes blinking away tiredness and seeing he’s alone in bed.

quick to take in the space around him, diluc notes how the bathroom light isn’t on and there’s a full glass of water on your night stand. you’re nowhere to be found and he feels a tug on his heart that brings him to his feet, his strides long as he heads for the closed bedroom door and down the grand staircase in only long sleep pants.

he’s not sure what brings him to look outside before anywhere else, he dreads the thought of you being out there where something could hurt you with him not there to protect you. even if you could hold your own.. he just.. he never wanted to see anything happen to you and he could never get back to sleep without you next to him.

feeling his chest grow tight, he doesn’t let it slow his steps as he grabs his coat off of the back of the chair he had been working from earlier and pulls it over his bare arms and back, throwing open the heavy mahogany doors with ease.

you spot the brightness of his hair even in the dark night barely lit with the few lanterns that still burn around the property and feel your heart squeeze at the sight of him. his ruby eyes are filled with worry and a softness that makes you think he looks a bit younger, makes you want to reach out and touch his cheek, ease his anxieties, stand on your toes to kiss his brow.

“what’re you doing out here?” you ask and you’re forced to look up as he closes the distance between you, shedding his coat and pulling it over your shoulders as soon as he could reach you.

you’re enveloped in his warmth and the smell of wine from every angle, melting against his chest as he pulls you in close, like he needed to feel you against him.

“you’re not in bed,” he pulls you even closer, cradling the back of your skull with one hand, the other splayed across your lower back and his words are spoken softly against the shell of your ear. “i came looking for you.”

“i’m sorry,” your reply is barely audible against the immediate comfort he provides you, the kind that melts down your worries and woes and leaves you feeling safe and like you might actually be able to fall asleep. “i didn’t mean to worry you. i just..” you pause, feeling guilty for having worried him by being out here. “i couldn’t sleep.”

“why didn’t you wake me?”

he’s not angry or upset but you cling to him like a child in trouble. “you need your sleep too, you know.”

“i need you. i need you in my arms and close to me” he says, his words making you forget anything other than just being with him. it’s comfortably quiet between you for a few moments before he speaks again. “we can stay out here longer if you’d like.”

shaking your head against his chest, feeling the scars on his back under your fingertips and the soft skin around them, you let out a quiet ‘no, let’s go back to bed’ and feel your feet be swept out from under you the next second.

easily diluc carries you with one arm under your legs and the other at your back. in the night air his skin is still so incredibly warm and in his steady steps, you feel the tiredness begin to settle in your bones and let yourself skin further in his arms, succumbing to sleep before he makes it to the second floor of the manor.

♡♡♡♡♡

genshin impact masterlist | main masterlist

#diluc ragnvindr #diluc ragnvindr x reader #diluc ragnvindr fluff #genshin impact #genshin impact x reader #genshin x reader #diluc #diluc fluff #diluc x reader

523 notes · View notes

upsidedownwithsteve · 8 months

Text

Eddie Munson x fem!reader

requested by @carolmunson 18+

“More.”

It wasn’t a whine, or a whimper, or even a sultry request. It was a demand, petulant and spat between gritted teeth because the boy wasn’t giving you what you wanted.

Eddie huffed out a laugh without any humour, dark and breathy, his large hands grabbing tight at the dough of your hips and he slammed into you, shoving his cock a little deeper, just like you’d told him. He grinned when you whined, brows furrowed as he tried not to come too quick but you were stretched out on his bed in front of him, face pressed to his sheets, back arched and ass popped out real pretty for him.

“You didn’t say please,” Eddie tutted, going back to the lazy, slow strokes he’d started with. “You’re bein’ real fuckin’ rude, sweetheart.”

You groaned, eyes rolling in annoyance and you squirmed in his hold, shoving yourself back onto his cock so it nudged that spot you wanted it to hit.

“Told you,” you moaned. “I had a bad day, Eddie, I’m not in the mood to be tea—”

Eddie pulled all the way out, your cunt clenching around nothing and you whined, gasping out curses but you were suddenly flipped, manhandled into your back and Eddie crowded you, hands grabbing at your wrists and pinning you to the sheets.

He was smoke and spice and peppermint gum, his curls falling loose from the band he’d used to pull them back into a bun. He leaned over you, nose nudging yours, his silver chain brushing against your parted lips. You wanted to bite it. You wanted to beg him to fuck you like this, with your knees pressed between your chests so you could suck on the metal links.

“You’ve been actin’ like a brat since you got home,” he was rough about it, voice cracking, hands keeping you from squirming no matter how much you tried. “Huh? Been a bit too bitchy for my liking, babe, you got a real attitude.” Eddie tsked again, gathering both your wrist in one of his hands and he used the other to smack at the meat of your ass when you tried to break free.

“Eddie!”

The boy waited, levelling you with a stare that had you settling back into the pillows and the boy stilled. You didn’t ask him to stop, you didn’t call for red, or even yellow. So he grinned again, teeth sharp and ready to bite and nip and tease some more.

But then he was off of you, sitting back against the headboard and stroking lazily over his cock, hard and slick from your cunt. He laughed at your outraged expression before he nodded to his lap.

“You wanna act like you’re in charge? Huh?” Eddie settled back, let his hand drop to his side. “Wanna run that damn mouth and give me lip? Ride it yourself, then, sweetheart. And be quick about it.”

#Eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x y/n #Eddie munson fic #Eddie munson smut #eddie munson fanfic #Eddie munson fanfiction #Eddie munson oneshot #Eddie munson blurb #eddie munson imagine #Eddie munson drabble #Eddie baby blurb

1K notes · View notes

verstappen-cult · 9 days

Text

WHAT HAPPENS IN VEGAS, LESTAPPEN.

PAIRING. max verstappen x female reader x charles leclerc.

SUMMARY — It's the day after the race in Las Vegas and Max and Charles wake up with a huge headache, two rings in their fingers and no idea of what happened the night before.

GWEN'S MESSAGE. this was requested by @piastrification! i'm so sorry it took me so long, but i had so much fun writing it! and i hope you like it. as always comments & reblogs are greatly appreciated.

Max wakes up with an awful headache and very thirsty. He tries to adjust his vision to the sunlight but every time he tries to open his eyes, there’s a shooting pain in his temple.

He groans, rolling around in bed. Next to him is Charles still sleeping on his belly, messy hair and something like confetti around him.

Max can’t remember anything from last night. Well, he remembers going out with Charles, Lando, Daniel and Pierre and then a lot of shots and dancing and people shouting their names and then… nothing.

“Fuck this.” He whispers and gets out of bed very slowly, feeling dizzy.

He goes to the bathroom to brush his teeth and have a big glass of water before he passes out from dehydration.

Max is filling a second glass when he sees it; a silver ring around his left ring finger.

He does not wear rings.

“Max?” Charles calls his name and Max walks back into the room with his heart hammering in his ears.

“Did you give me this ring last night?” He asks even before Charles has time to properly wake up.

“Uh?” The Monégasque says, sitting on the bed and looking confused at the hand Max has up in the air, showing him the piece of jewelry. “No?” Charles rubs his face with his left hand but stops halfway when he feels something on his ring finger. “What the fuck?”

There is a silver ring, just like the one Max has, on his finger.

And that is not one of his rings because this has three little diamonds encrusted in it.

“Max,” Charles breathes, a shiver running down his spine as he looks at his boyfriend. “What happened last night?

They look at each other with wide eyes, a million thoughts running through their heads.

“I remember leaving the club with the boys and then everything goes black.” Charles gets out of bed to look for his phone because there must be something in there, but all he finds are five missed calls from Pierre and a lot, a lot, of messages from you on the group chat.

“What’s wrong?” Max asks as he walks away to fill a glass of water for Charles.

“Y/N is here,” He answers, showing him the phone and thanking him for the water with a kiss on the cheek. “She’s downstairs waiting for us with Lando.”

Max groans, falling back onto the bed.

“I feel like we did something really stupid last night.”

“Shut up, we didn’t do anything.” Charles busies himself with looking for clothes in his suitcase, so he doesn’t have to think about last night.

They should forget about last night. Last night didn’t happen.

By the time they made it to the lobby, Max and Charles had agreed that they needed to talk to Lando before talking to you about the shit show that was last night.

They may not know exactly what happened, but by the matching rings they know it’s nothing good.

However, they forget about it when they see you standing next to Lando wearing the most beautiful floral dress and your perfect smile.

“Hey, sweetheart.” Max says, taking off his sunglasses for a second to give you a peck on the lips. Then, he’s putting them back on.

“How’s the hangover?” You tease them, feeling Charles' body tensing next to you. And you really want to laugh because you know exactly what happened thanks to Lando and a very detailed story. “What did you do last night?”

“Nothing,” Charles is quick to answer, looking at Lando and silently begging him to do something. But Lando just laughs. “Lando, can we talk for a second?”

“What do you need to talk to him about?”

“Oh, just about something Dani asked us to do before he left last night.” Max lies and if it weren’t because you’re in a good mood and know why they are lying, you would feel angry.

“Oh, but Dani’s right there.” You point behind his backs and they immediately turn around to find the Australian man talking on the phone. When he sees them, a big smile spreads over his face, giving thumbs up before going back to his conversation.

“Now, why are you lying to me?” You bite your lip, trying to keep up with the show. “Did you do something I should know about?”

And then, they say at the same time:

“I swear we didn’t do anything, we went to sleep early!”

“We don’t remember what we did last night, okay?!”

Lando bursts out laughing, even bending down as he tries to breathe properly, which draws the attention of a few people around that slowly start to recognize them.

“Well, I guess I’m not needed here since you keep lying to my face.” You pretend to be hurt and it's not easy when all you want to do is laugh in their faces.

Max and Charles start talking over each other, trying to make you understand what is actually happening.

“And then we woke up this morning with these!” Charles takes Max hand in his, showing their rings. “I swear to god we don’t know what happened.”

“We were so drunk.” Max looks at his feet, feeling embarrassed. He never drinks that much, but apparently last night was a special occasion.

“Oh, but I know.”

They look at you, expectantly, surprised, confused, a mix of emotions on their faces.

You take out your phone, looking for something before turning the device around so they are able to see the screen.

“You got married.”

There on the screen is a picture of Max and Charles with an Elvis impersonator between them, holding his left hands up in the air showing their rings while Charles is holding up his phone with a picture of you, a drunken smile on both of their faces.

You slide your finger to the left, and a video starts playing.

You can hear Lando laughing while recording. “What are you doing?” He asks, walking closer to Charles who is looking down at the picture of you on his phone.

“Baby, we got married!” He exclaims as Max wraps an arm around his waist from behind, resting his chin on his shoulder. “She doesn’t answer. Why isn’t she answering… Are you mad, baby?”

Dani appears on the video, laughing his ass off as he takes the phone away.

“You’re not on facetime, you idiot. It's a picture.” Pierre says from somewhere next to Lando, probably.

“Say hi to Y/N!”

“Hi baby!” Charles really likes to call you baby when he’s drunk.

“We got married!” Max says a little too loud, but doesn’t care and kisses Charles cheek. “Look, we have your ring right here.” He shows a silver ring similar to the one they have, the difference is that the diamond in the middle is slightly bigger. “Congratulations!”

The video ends with all of them laughing.

There’s a minute of silence before Charles speaks.

“Okay, it wasn’t that bad.”

“What!?” Max looks mortified.

“Well, everyone knows that weddings in Las Vegas aren’t actually weddings.” Everyone looks at him at a loss of words, but he just keeps going. “We aren’t actually married.”

“Charles,” Lando laughs a little more. He’s definitely having the time of his life. “weddings in Vegas are very real. You are married.”

“No we’re not!”

Max sighs, placing a hand on his boyfriend — husband’s shoulder. “Charlie, we are.”

Charles gaps, immediately looking at you. “I’m so sorry! We didn’t know!”

You can’t help it anymore, so you laugh.

“Oh my god, you should see your faces!”

Max and Charles look at each other, and then at you. They don’t have a clue about what is happening anymore. Not since last night.

“You’re not… mad?”

“Well,” You wipe the tears from your eyes, shoving your phone back in your purse. “I was at first, now i just find it hilarious.”

“I’m so sorry, schat.” Max runs his hand through his hair, looking sheepishly at you with a pout on his pretty lips.

“It is your fault!” Charles says out of nowhere, pointing a finger in Lando’s face. “Why didn’t you stop us?”

Lando raises his hands in surrender. “I tried!”

“You should’ve tried harder!”

“Max promised to let me win if I let you get married!”

“Max!” Charles says, offended.

“I won’t do that.”

You shake your head, patting Max’s cheek lightly, condescendingly. “You will if you want me to forgive you.”

#꒰꒰ 📁 ─ verstappen cult files ꒱꒱#charles leclerc x reader #max verstappen x reader #lestappen x reader #f1 imagine #f1 x reader #f1 fanfic #charles leclerc fluff #max verstappen fluff

800 notes · View notes