#the way you’re constantly on his mind and all he wants to do is prove himself as worthy to be with you </3

[plainemmanem]

without fail steeb has ur gas station order memorized and whenever he has to get gas he’s running in and grabbing u a little treat

FUCK you . you’re right

[wttcsms]

i'll pretend you'll stay forever ; kento nanami.

pairing kento nanami x f!reader  word count 2.4k  synopsis no one knows that the bodyguard for the prime minister's daughter fucks her on a daily basis. content contains bodyguard!nanami x prime minister's daughter!reader, big, beefy, strong nanami hehe, creampie, slight brat taming, pet names (baby, good girl, bad girl), cockwarming, dom!nanami, hair pulling, car sex, nanami makes you call him sir author's notes s2 was animated for the nanami girlies

Kento Nanami is good at his job.

Granted, he’s been practically bred for the position. Born and raised by a mother and father who also dealt in espionage, sent to boarding schools that would feed him directly to The Academy, constantly being reminded of his purpose. Agent Nanami serves as one of the Prime Minister’s most trusted secret operatives. A select few who are given the most sensitive assignments. 

“K-Kento — too much,” your shaky whines sound even louder than they actually are, emphasized by the silence in his car. 

Sensitive — yes, that’s what you are. 

“You can take it.” He tells you, gently stroking your cheek. His calloused thumb wipes away a stray tear, and he takes you in. You’re still tearing up, your lashes slick, and you’re pouting at him. You’re always pouting, probably because growing up, you’ve never been told no. It’s not required according to his assignment file (most of what Nanami has been doing with you has decidedly been not required), but Nanami’s been trying hard to give you lessons that will have you behaving politely and like a good girl rather than the spoiled brat you actually are.

Kento Nanami is good at his job.

When he’s told that he is to be the primary bodyguard for the Prime Minister’s daughter, he accepts it without hesitation. Everyone else has had no luck with you, and you certainly don’t seem to be bothered by that fact. You’re in college now, and you want nothing more than to skip lectures and go to parties, both of which is rather difficult when you have a bodyguard watching your every move and reporting directly to your father.

Nanami goes about his assignment in a different way. There’s another bodyguard, one who is also watching you, but young Itadori cannot possibly go about protecting the Prime Minister’s most beloved daughter safe all by himself. He’s barely graduated from the Academy.

Besides, you automatically dislike any of the guards assigned to you. Itadori is a nice, young man, and in different circumstances, everyone is certain that you would have enjoyed his company. The fact that his job is to protect you seems to be his only fatal flaw in your eyes.

Nanami is no stranger to undercover work, and so posing as a final year doctoral candidate at the university you’re attending is an easy cover. Setting up the perfect chain of events that leads to you specifically choosing him to be your economics tutor was also an easy enough task. 

And somewhere along the lines, you got this idea inside of your pretty, little head that you’re just the smartest, sneakiest girl around. You think you’re evading Itadori’s watchful eyes, taking advantage of his rookie status even though he’s always aware you’re “sneaking off” to meet with Nanami. You think you’re finally rebelling against your father’s strict instructions to stay out of trouble. 

And while Nanami does ensure that you keep out of trouble, he’s not sure if your father will approve with how he’s keeping you so obedient.

Kento Nanami is good at his job.

You’re not the first brat that he’s had to train, but you’re proving to be quite the star student. You hold back any more whining complaints, and instead, you’re straddling his lap like the good girl he knows you can be, his thick cock fitting snugly inside your pussy.

Both of your hands are clutching onto his broad shoulders, your pretty, manicured nails digging into the stiff cotton of his blue button-up. His mind doesn’t register the sting of your nails practically sinking into his skin. All he can focus on is what a pretty, dazed little mess you are. 

“See?” He coos, sounding not the least bit condescending. The warmth of his baritone, the reassuring strokes on your cheek — Nanami is a gentleman. You practically beam with pride as he tells you, “I told you you could take it. Such a good girl.”

You still haven’t moved yet, and Nanami whispers more words of praise for you. It only took two weeks of training to get you to understand that you can beg for his touch, his attention, his cock, all you want, but he gives it all to you under his terms and conditions. He knows you want some friction, knows that you need it so badly because why else are your walls clenching down so heavily on his length? You’re being so patient with him that he feels himself getting impossibly harder at the thought of your perfect behavior. 

“You want to ride me, baby?” The question comes out as a throaty whisper, the clear desire he has for you evident in his rough tone. 

You nod eagerly, damn near salivating at the thought of finally being able to take what you want. 

“Use your words.” He demands, moving his hand to caress your face once more before letting his thumb toy with your bottom lip. 

“Yes,” you whimper out, trying your hardest to resist the temptation to start moving, to have the feeling of his cock brushing against your walls, in and out, in and out.

His eyes narrow, and his cold demeanor is enough to keep you frozen in place. Oh, you’ve upset him. 

“You were being such a good girl, too.” He shakes his head in disappointment. “When you answer me, what are you supposed to say?”

“Y-yes, sir.” 

“And if you knew this, why didn’t you say it the first time?” The way he snaps at you shouldn’t give your tummy butterflies, but it does. Nanami is far kinder and gentler than he lets on, and it’s why you enjoy it when he takes on such a demanding role when it’s just the two of you. No one can handle your attitude as well as Nanami, and that’s precisely why you’re warming his cock right now, walls tightening around him with every stern scolding that leaves his mouth. 

“You can’t answer me?” The sharpness of his tone turns you demure, making you turn your head down and away from him, refusing to answer or look at him, and he frowns at that. You feel him wrapping your hair around his hand, and the movements are soft, slow, gentle at first—

—and with speed and dexterity that shouldn’t belong to a mere student, he’s yanking you by your hair, forcing you to snap your head up and look him in his cold eyes. 

“You were behaving so well earlier.” He feigns disappointment, but the hungry glint in his eyes tells you that he’s been looking forward to whatever punishment he has in store for you. “What a shame. I was going to let you have me however you wanted, let you take control for once.” He leans down, whispering in your ear. “Instead, it looks like I get to fuck you like the bad girl you really are, hm?” 

Before you can protest, apologize, beg for mercy, he takes his free hand to grip your waist, strong enough to lift you slightly off of him, only to slam you back down on his dick. 

You let out a strangled cry at the sudden intrusion. It’s one thing to have him sink into you inch by inch; it’s another thing entirely to have him practically impale you with his dick.

His thrusts are rough, hard, unforgiving. Never sloppy, though — Nanami’s much too meticulous to reduce himself to a wild animal, even though he’s fucking you so hard, you can’t tell if he hates your guts or just wants to rearrange them. 

His hand is still tangled in your hair, and he pulls some more, forces your neck to arch up. He leans in, licking at the soft skin of your neck before nipping at the skin, hard enough to leave a mark you’ll need to cover up with a turtleneck because no amount of concealer can save you now.

You mewl in pain at the sensation, but it’s obvious you love it. You’re dripping all over his dick, forcing wet, squelching sounds to fill the car every time he moves inside of you. You should be ashamed — would be ashamed — if only the overwhelming pleasure didn’t leave your mind shrouded in a hazy mist of lust and rapture. The pinpricks of pain from how he’s pulling your hair and from the fresh lovebites marking your flesh should hurt more, but you’re too lost in the way his cock is filling you up. 

“Look at that.” Nanami growls, untangling his hand from your hair in favor of putting his fingers to better use: stroking your clit. “You’re fucking soaked.” You look down as he commands, and your eyes widen in surprise, even though it shouldn’t come as such a shock to you. The front of his trousers is absolutely drenched with your juices, and your clit practically glistens in the faint moonlight that sneaks past the tint of his car. “Is this why you like to be a bad girl? Because you like getting fucked like a fleshlight, is that it?”

You want to shake your head no. You want to tell him that you are good, that you’re not a bad girl. But the stimulation on your clit, his harsh words, the way his cock is repeatedly hitting that special spot of yours — it’s all too much for you to handle.

“I want to treat you so well, baby. I want to spoil you, give you everything, but you make it so — fucking — difficult.” He speaks through clenched teeth, the warmth and ecstasy of being buried in your sweet pussy slowly chipping away at his resolve. The last three words of his sentence have all been punctuated by a particularly brutal thrust, and you’re certain that by the end of this, your cunt will keep the shape of his cock forever.

“I’m sorry!” You scream out, tears flowing freely down your cheeks now. The pleasure is mind-numbing, earth-shattering, reality-altering. Neither of you know what you’re apologizing for. Is it for being a bad girl when all Nanami wants is for you to behave so he can bring you the world at your feet? Is it for the wet mess you’re making all over his nice clothes and cock? Or is it for the fact that you’re breaking a cardinal rule, one that he will be most displeased by?

Maybe it’s all of the above, but if you had to pick, the apology would be for the fact that you’re cumming without permission. Your conscious mind is aware that Nanami is not going to be very happy with you, but this climax has you seeing stars. You can’t find it in yourself to worry about future consequences when you’re losing yourself in the throes of passion and pleasure. You’re drenching his cock in your cum, seeing stars, and reduced to feeling like a boneless mess. You slump against his strong chest, eyes struggling to remain open as you rest your head on one of his big, broad shoulders.

The punishment doesn’t come immediately — it rarely ever does. Nanami bides his time and doles out his punishments when you least expect it. He does it to keep you on edge, and you’d be lying if you said it didn’t excite you. 

Instead, he lets you rest against him, reduced to nothing more than a little, fucked-out mess. You feel a rumble from his chest, a series of grunts and curses leaving his mouth as the bucking of his hips is done so harshly, you’re certain that you’re going to be bruised everywhere, from the soft flesh of your thighs to your poor cervix. A few more thrusts and Nanami is certain that he is planted as deep as he could go, the tip of his cock hitting you at your most sensitive spot. 

You feel him bury his face into your hair, taking in the scent of your shampoo and the lingering aroma of sex and sweat. His cock throbs in sporadic bursts, and you hear him grunt out your name like a broken prayer.

He cums, unloading a hot, heavy load directly inside of you, flooding you. You think you forget how to breathe, and all you can do is just take it, take all of him.

The warm sensation has you moaning softly; the feeling of him completely dominating your senses, your body, you, has you wanting him to never let you go, to never leave. You tighten your core, trying to squeeze more of his cum into you as he lets out little groans of pleasure from above you. You love reducing him to a moaning mess, reducing him to this sex-dazed state whenever he lets go because of you.

You don’t think you’re capable of speech, throat raw from your previous screams of pleasure, but you find that you don’t have to speak to let Nanami know what you want. As you lift your head from his shoulder, relishing in the sight of Nanami with his head leaned back, cheeks flushed from the exertion of giving you the best dick of your life, he opens his eyes to meet yours. Leaning down, he captures your lips and gives you a messy, sloppy kiss that is so unbecoming and out of character for him. 

The makeout session lasts until your eyes feel droopy and you’re not responding anymore. Nanami just looks down at you with a fondness that he hasn’t felt for anyone else in a while. You’re all tuckered out, and you’re breathing softly and slowly, lost to the world of dreaming. He’s a bit exhausted, too. He should pull you off his cock and buckle you back safely in the passenger seat, but he sees a small trail of his cum dribbling out of your overstuffed pussy and he figures it’s less of a mess if he just keeps you nice and plugged up for the time being.

Before he can close his eyes and join you, the crackle of his telecom planted in his watch comes to life. The static doesn’t do much to alter Itadori’s voice.

“Y1 to K1, this is Y1 requesting status of the Princess. Over.”

The “Princess” is currently dozing peacefully with his cum settling in her cunt. Nanami thinks that’s too crude to relay over the comms, though.

“K1 to Y1, Princess is secured. Over.”

[monzabee]

pon de replay - cl16 (+18)

masterlist ||

Summary: The one where Charles decide to prove to everyone that it is him that you belong to, and only him.

Pairing: charles leclerc x reader 

Word Count: 4.8k

Warnings: smuttt, nothing but pure filth, one might even say it is pwp, unprotected sex (cover your willy don’t be silly), oral (f receiving), kinda exhibitionism?, public sex, jealous charles, possessive charles, carlos being a little shit because he’s bored, poor lando, not even sure if i fulfilled the request or not, minors dni!! 

Request: “HELLOOOO! i have an idea and you don’t have to write it but it’s been rattling around in my brain and im never gonna write it (i constantly have way too many ideas to write them fr) myself so i figured i’d send it to you cause you’ve kinda restored my F1 phase with your work. basically, reader being very goofy, funny, and maybe a little bit too loud at times. just like a very silly and bubbly personality and she hangs out with some of the f1 boys (maybe because she’s famous in her own right like a dancer or something) so naturally EVERYONE ships her with lando. like hardcore, almost as bad as one direction fans ships (iykyk), and it sorta makes sense cause when they’re together it’s pure and utter chaos and they both express themselves with physical touch B U T ! she’s actually with charles. to her it makes total sense to be with charles instead of lando cause while lando is definitely attractive he’s too much like her and it’d be like dating herself whereas charles brings out a new calm side to her and she can bring out a goofier side to him. opposites attract type shit😭. maybe a little angst cause charles hates seeing all the edits and also feels a little insecure cause lando and reader DO make sense together in his mind so why’d you pick him instead? then like soft fluff/smut reassurance that charles is literally the man of her dreams, a literal fucking prince, and the best person she’s ever been with. ANYWAYS, im rambling! again, you don’t have to write this if you don’t connect with it or don’t have time i just needed an outlet SOMEWHERE for all the F1 brain rot.”

Author’s Note: hi, hey, hello!! i first of all want to start by saying that i’m very sorry that this isn’t exactly like the request, like at all, but it took me a criminal amount of time to actually get this finished so we’re not going to focus on that. okay? okay, great!! in all and all it was actually quite fun to work on this at the beginning, it was just kinda hard for some reason to work on the actual smut part, but i hope you guys enjoy! good morning, noon or night wherever you are, xoxobee

Please also note that all of my works are protected under copyright, and not available for reposting on other platforms. 

Charles wouldn’t call himself a possessive person, not a chance. He might be ambitious, and competitive, but possessive? That, he is not. He’s never been the type of get jealous of his partner’s friends, whether male or female, because he likes to think that he is mature enough to understand that people have friends. It’s that simple. And he is most definitely not the type of person to comment on what you wear when you’re going out, he is just not that guy. He’s fairly certain that his mother would materialise out of thin air and give him a good beating if he were to do that. So when you asked him about the dress you have on earlier before you left his apartment, the one that clings to your body so tightly that he can practically make out the outline of your tits from across the room? He just smiled and told you to have fun tonight – because he’s there to make sure you’re not put off by anyone staring at you in it.

So yeah. He’s not usually the type to let the jealousy take over his ability to think things out rationally, but when his girlfriend is dancing her heart away in the middle of the dance floor while every red-blooded men watch her with the same look in their eyes? Yeah, it’s not easy to keep his emotions in check at the moment given the circumstances. And it’s not that he even intends to pout like a petulant child at the bar, making sure to keep an eye on you, it’s just that he is an expressive person and his face reflects what he’s feeling that well. Totally because of that. It’s scary how utterly focused he is on you, watching your every move to make sure no one is bothering you, though you don’t seem to be in need of his help as he watches you dance with one of the girls you met when you first arrived to the club – and with Lando, though he tries not to focus on that part too much.

It's fine, though, he tries to make himself believe, it’s fine as long as you’re having fun. Though that doesn’t necessarily stop him from throwing daggers into Lando’s direction as covertly as he can. The way he has a friendly arm around you is driving him crazy, and he is not above stomping over there to pull you under his arm, drag you to the nearest bathroom and– Well, maybe he shouldn’t get too far ahead of himself just yet.

“They look good together, no?” He hears someone ask him from the side. He realises it is his teammate when he turns to give the person a glare.

“Who?” He asks, deciding to play dumb, but he can’t help himself as he makes a face while focusing his gaze back on you.

“You know who I’m talking about, cabrón!” Carlos exclaims, laughing as he pats him on the back and points to the two of you with a tilt of his head, “I’m glad he’s finally doing something about it rather than sulking around like a geriatric toddler.”

If he would have turned around any faster, Charles is sure his neck would actually, possibly, break. “What?” he spits out as he turns around, “Do you mean her and Lando?”

Carlos gives his teammate a confused look, “Yes,” he drawls out, “you didn’t know he had a crush on her? I thought the entire paddock knew!” Charles feels a surge of disbelief and a tinge of anger bubbling within him.

He wouldn't call it possessiveness, more like a primal instinct to protect what's his. But this revelation catches him off guard, shattering his carefully constructed facade of nonchalance. With doing his best to keep calm under the situation, he asks, “Are you sure you’re not making things up? I feel like you’re misreading the situation here.”

That receives another confused look from his teammate, and though Charles is quite the perceptive person, he misses Carlos starting to put the pieces together – thanks to his overreaction. “I guess so,” Carlos mumbles, loud enough for Charles to hear him in the loud club, “he’s always talking about her, though. The way she smiles, her hair, her dresses; did you know he even went to see one of her performances in Vegas?” Carlos feels bad, really, but there is also something so fulfilling in confirming his theories as he watches his teammate’s eyes bulge out at the mention of one of your dance shows in Vegas. Because Charles knows what those entail.

“I-in Vegas?” He stutters out, eyes moving to focus on your dancing figure again. And at that moment, he absolutely hates Lando. He hates him for having his arms around you, he hates him for dancing with you to the beat in a rhythm he never seems to be able to keep up with, he hates him for the way everybody seems to think the two of you seem to make a handsome couple, and he absolutely hates him for the way he makes you smile.

Charles Leclerc is not a possessive guy – until it comes to you, that is.

“Charles?” He hears Carlos call out his name, but he’s out of his seat long before he can hear the end of his sentence. He doesn’t mean to stomp across the dance floor to get to you. He really doesn’t. He also doesn’t mean to grab you by your arm and put a pause on your fun. And the smile you give him and the way you wrap your arms around his neck while you call him ‘Charlie’? Makes his heart stutter in a way that makes him forget why he ever came over in this first place. Because this should be normal – you, having male friends and spending time with them should not make him insecure. He should be fine with you and Lando spending time together because you both love the hustle and bustle of a club. But at that moment, he doesn’t care about what should be normal, no. He cares about the fact that someone other than him has managed to make you smile, and that he needs to remind you that he’s the only one who should be on the receiving end of all your smiles.

So when he drags you away from the dancefloor (and Lando, for that matter), he doesn’t listen to your objections. He doesn’t care about the way Carlos is watching from his place from the bar, putting all the pieces together as he shares a look with Lando. And he most definitely doesn’t care about the fact that he’s about to fuck you in the club’s bathroom. Well, maybe he does care about that last part. “Charlie,” you whine, your voice clearly scratched from shouting along the lyrics of the songs playing throughout the night, and he doesn’t miss the way you slur his name ever so slightly – which tells him that you had at least two drinks. Cosmopolitans, if he had to guess. “Pleaaase,” you drag out the word, pulling on his shirt to get his attention, “they are playing my song!”

His first mistake is to look at you, because the way your lips form a pout and the way you’re giving him puppy dog eyes is usually strong enough for him to give in. Though this is no usual situation. So instead of moving the two of you back to the dancefloor, he grabs you by your cheeks and presses his lips against you. In the middle of the club, where everybody can see him doing it. The way his lips move against yours is aggressive, and you’re definitely out of breath when he does move away. Cosmopolitans, he realises after tasting you. You've had cosmopolitans. Then, he just gives you a look, threads his fingers through yours and raises an eyebrow. Then he asks, “Are you going to be a good girl and come with me now, or should I do this the hard way and just carry you on my shoulder?”

If this was any other situation, you would totally say something bratty back. Hell, you might have actually said something rude if it meant him being rough with you, maybe spanking you a few times just enough times for you to learn your lesson. But you understand that this is no ordinary situation from his voice and the expression on his face. Charles is like that, you suppose. He’s an open book – meaning that it is very easy to understand what kind of a mood he’s in just by looking at his face, or listening to the undertone of his voice. And right now? Right now you know he’s pissed. You don’t necessarily know what you did, nor do you care. Mainly because all you want to do is make him feel better simply because of the reason that he is one of those people who’s just meant to smile at all times, not frown.

And so you nod gingerly, squeaking out a thimble, “Yes.” You finally meet his eyes as you wrap yourself around his arm, pushing yourself closer to him in the crowded club. “I’ll be good.”

This thumb does that thing where he caresses your knuckle, and he starts moving you through the crowd again. This time, however, you try to stick to him by matching the speed of his steps rather than trying to stay back. You told him you’d be good, you intend to keep your promise. He’s quiet all the way to the bathroom, and he’s quiet when he motions you to get inside, and he’s quiet when he closes to door and promptly locks it behind your back. You think for a moment you’re just there for a chat, maybe about that something you might’ve done, but Charles takes you by surprise as he grabs your waist and pushes you against the door, causing your eyes to widen with realisation of what you’re about to do in that bathroom.

“Charles, what’s wrong?” You try to ask, but he shuts you up with another kiss. And if you thought the previous kiss was aggressive, this one absolutely consumes you. He doesn’t even give you a fighting chance as his tongue quickly dominates yours, and he is relentless as he nips at your lower lip. You can’t help the mortifying moan that leaves your lips, and you push him away to inhale deeply. “What has gotten into you?” You ask, eyes wide due to the adrenaline coursing through your veins, “What happened?”

“You, happened.” He growls. And by that, you mean that he actually growls. His voice is a few octaves deeper than his usual voice, and you can see that he’s snappy. There is this dark look in his eyes that would otherwise scare you if you didn’t know him, but you do. Because he’s your Charles.

And you know this because the quickly leans into your touch when you bring one of your hands up to cup his cheek, giving him a confused look. “Did I do something?” You ask, voice soft amidst the humid bathroom. “Oh my god, is it my dress? Is it too short?” Your eyebrows draw closer as you start properly spiralling. “I knew I should’ve worn the shorts, why didn’t you say something?”

Your mini monologue about your party attire must have struck a chord because Charles suddenly exhales heavily, his forehead resting against yours as he closes his eyes. “No, non, it's not about the fucking dress,” he lashes out, his voice strained, and lace with something else that you can’t quite catch. “I don’t care what you wear, though I do appreciate the easy access.”

“Easy access?” You repeat, testing out the words as you come to a realisation. “What?” You exclaim, quickly taking your hand away from his face to lightly slap at his chest. “No! We are definitely not doing that here, are you out of your mind? You pulled me away because you can’t keep it in your pants until we’re home?”

“And why not?” He asks, and this time, you can see the unbridled rage behind his look. “Would you rather go back to Lando out there? You looked quite happy in his arms after all.”

And the realisation dawns on you right then and there. That this isn’t about your choice of dress for the evening, no. It is about Lando. Though you don’t get that part, since he’s both of your friend, so why is Charles being like this? And you would ask him, of course. But the look he gives you indicates that he doesn’t want to be tested in that exact moment.

So instead, you attempt to calm him down, by dragging your hand gently down his chest and wrapping your arms around his middle. He is like that, your Charles, sometimes he just wants to be held to see reason. “Charlie,” you call out, voice soft as you give him a pleading look, “why don’t you tell me what this is about, hm?”

You think he’s going to finally give in for a moment, but then he just gives you a blank stare. “I don’t want to talk,” he grunts, pulling you flush against him by the hands he has on your waist. His lips are on your neck faster than you can say anything, working his way towards your collarbones. The faint whimpers that come out of your lips bring a small smile to his lips knowing that he’s the one causing them, not Lando or any other guy.

“Charles,” you gasp, your fingers tangling in his hair as his lips trail along your skin. Despite the confusion and frustration swirling within you, you can't deny the way his touch ignites a fire deep within you, consuming your thoughts and leaving you breathless with desire. But as much as you crave his touch, you know that there are unresolved issues between you, issues that need to be addressed before you can fully give yourself to him in this moment. “Charlie,” you repeat, your voice barely above a whisper as you gently push against his chest, urging him to stop. “Stop, we need to talk about this.”

“Talk about what?” He asks, all breathy and with a wild look in his eyes. You can see that he’s trying to hold himself back, but at the same time his hands keep moving on your body in a way that makes you want to let him lose control and perhaps even join him. He successfully ignores your attempts at pushing him away, sliding his hands down on your body to grab the hem of your dress, clenching the material in his hand while dragging it upwards on your thighs until he reaches the soft skin of your stomach. “I have a thing in mind which might help me feel better.” Unable to take your eyes off of him, you take a stuttered breath as you watch him slowly get down on his knees, his lips pressing kisses starting form your sternum continuing down your body over your dress until you feel his lips on the exposed skin of your stomach. His kisses stop once he’s met with the top lining of your underwear, looking at you with a mischevious glint in his eyes as he nips at the nimble lace adorning the top. You call out his name in a weak whimper – though it is not clear to you, nor him, whether you’re asking him to stop or go on. Charles decides to go with the latter. “You know what to say if you want me to stop.”

You don’t really need his reminder, you realise, but it is a welcome one. Your cheeks blush even further when you feel his gaze on you as he lowers his face towards your core, leaving a sweet kiss onto your clit through the fabric of your thong. Suddenly, you want nothing more than to just rip to whole thing apart so there is nothing separating you from him, but you know the game, and you especially know that the ending is sweeter than what you could ever imagine at that moment. And so you wait – you wait until he eventually makes his move and gives your slit a generous lick through the fabric. Watching you is equal parts thrilling and painful, mainly because he wants to drag out his teasing as long as possible just to see you falling apart for him. It’s second nature to you, the way your hand threads through his hair to move him the way you want to, but it is of course not an option because it’s Charles who is in charge.

He makes this known by the way he pulls away, ignoring the way your hands scramble to guide him back to where you want him to be. He nips at the skin of your thigh in a warning manner, pulling a whine from your lips as he fixes you with a look, “You’re not in control tonight, mon bijou, I’ll stop if you try to take over. You got that?” It’s sobering to see him take control in such a way, you sweet little Charles. Usually, he has no problem just laying back and letting you take all the control, or even just making you believe you do. But now? With the way he’s looking at you with such hunger? You know you’d be soaking through your underwear if you weren’t so wet for him already. All you can do is offer him a meek nod, with your lips hanging open in shock, but he is not satisfied with your answer. No, he needs to hear you say the words. So, being the initiative person that he his, he tips at your skin again, this time earning himself a whimper along a grumble about how he’s being unreasonable. He isn’t, but that’s a topic to discuss another time, he decides. “I said, you got that?”

“Yes! Fine, yes!” You whine, grabbing your dress even tighter with your fist that isn’t buried in his hair, “Please just make me come.”

“See?” He asks, flashing you a sweet smile as he lowers his face back onto where you need him the most, “It wasn’t that hard now, is it?” The grumble about how he’s about to be the hard one, makes him chuckle to himself, the rumbling from it making you moan his name as he finally gives you what you want. His tongue works fast as he laps on the wetness through your underwear, soaking the material even more without a care in the world. If you weren’t wet before, you’re sure you’re definitely wet as he drags his tongue through your slit and back onto your clit to suck it through the fabric, causing you to let out a string of moans, each getting considerably louder as he works on your cunt.

The breath is knocked out of your lungs as the moments pass, as you become closer and closer to your impending release. You don’t even notice the fact that you’ve started to move your hips to match the rythym of his tongue, seeking something more to make you tip over the edge. You’re also very aware of the fact that Charles is letting you what you want to do, and though you’re scared out of you midn that he’ll stop like he threatened to do before, the little nod he gives you when you give him a pleading look assures you that he also wants you to come undone on his face.

Or so you’ve thought.

Because he knows your body so well that jus as you’re about to come he pulls back, leaving you high and dry, and even has the nerve to chuckle when he hears his name coming out of your mouth in a high pitched whine. You’re so lost in the moment that you almost miss the way he gently grabs your hands and removes them from his hair, pinning them above you and pushing you against the wall. “Why?” You whine, lips pushed out in a pout as your voice gets gradually whinier, “I was so close, Charles.”

“Oh, baby,” he cooes, “I know you were, I could feel it too.” He starts peppering your feverish skin with kisses, as if to say sorry for leaving you on the brink of an orgasm, and you find yourself arching your neck to expose more of your skin to his skillfull lips. You should stop him, some part of you screams to you in your head, because with the way he’s disguising the fact that he’s marking you with hickeys, but you don’t care at that moment. Your every breath and moan seem to motivate him to work faster, and harder, and when he eventually pulls back to leave a bruising kiss on your lips. A smirk finds its way onto his lips as he gives you an eyeing down, taking in how breathless you look. “Don’t worry, mon bijou, I’ll fuck you now, okay?”

You don’t even realise the nod you give him, too lost in his eyes to put words together to form a proper sentence. He’s gentle with you as he lets go of your hands and positions you the way he wants. With one of your legs wrapped around his hip he has better access to your soaked underwear, his fingers working quickly to pulling it aside. You don’t know when he managed to get himself free from his pants and underwear, but that doesn’t stop you from letting out a loud moan when you feel the tip of his cock circling your clit. “Please, please, please,” your voice cracks as you frantically beg him to do something more. You’d love nothing more than to scold him for the way he shushes you condescendingly, but any complaint you had evaporates when you feel him nudge your entrance. “Please,” you breathe out again, giving him pleading looks as you try to pull him closer somehow, “You promised me you’d fuck me.”

That manages to pull out a beathy chuckle for him, and as if he’s trying to console you, you feel his fingers gently caressing the skin of your hip. “Why don’t you do it yourself, hm?” A grin widens on his lips when you give him a look of confusion, and he leads one of your hands between your bodies for you to wrap it around his cock. “You want me inside you, right?” He rewards your tentative nod with a series of kisses down the column of your throat, “Come on then,” he mumbles into your skin, “put it in, pretty girl.” Exhaling a shaky breath, you keep your eyes on him as you guide him through your entrance. A gasp is torn from your lips when you feel his tip entering you, the initial stretch being more overwhelming because of the fact that you’re standing up. But Charles is quick to soothe you with his kisses down your neck, letting you control the rhythym and how further he can move inside you at first. With your hand making its way down to his hip, pressing him close to you, he quickly gets the message that you’re ready for him. “You’re ready?” He double-checks, raising his head to fix his eyes to yours.

“I swear to god if you don’t fuck me right now–” Your words are interrupted when you feel him move his hips back, just enough to have his tip inside you, and then he snaps his hips forward to thrust back in, making your breath hitch at the back of your throat. It doesn’t take very long for you to become a moaning mess, in fact, you’re more than ready to fall apart for him then and there, but you know he won’t let you until he gets his point across.   

“Look at you, mon bijou,” Charles darkly chuckles, hips matching the rhythym of the song playing outside at the dance floor, “what would people think if they saw you being such a mess for me in a club’s bathroom?” And the whine you let out in response to his question nothing if pathethic, but you can’t find it in you to care because of how good he’s making you feel. “Yes?” He prompts you, mocking the whiny ‘Yes’, that leaves your mouth before you start begging him to let you come. But he doesn’t, because he knows you can hold it until he’s ready for you too, and he tells you just that.

“So good, Charlie, so good,” you can’t help the broken moans you let out as he fucks you to the brink of an orgasm. But that is not enough for him, no. He needs everyone to know the two of you are together now, needs to get out all of his pent up frustrations out.

So when the opportunity presents itself with Lando knocking on the door asking if you are okay? A knowing smirk find its way onto his lips, and you try to silently plead with him with your eyes. “You want to cum?” He whispers in your ear, his thrusts becoming faster. “Say my name if you want to come, baby.”

“Please–” You gasp, hands grabbing the shirt he’s wearing. It’s no avail even if you try to keep your voice down. Because when Charles finds a way to slither his hand down between your legs and starts rubbing your clit in firm circles? You know there is no way you can stay quiet through your orgasm. “Why?” You manage to get out, “God, Charles please.”

“Tell me who’s making you feel so good, pretty girl.” He encourages you, his rhythym now almost brutal as he tries his best to make you come for him. “Come on, tell me who you belong to.” He chuckles darkly when he sees you shaking your head. “It’s not Lando, it’s me. You hear that?” Uh-huh, is the only answer he receives in return, but he is of course not satisfied with it. So, he gently pinches the inside of your thigh. “Tell me who’s going to make you come, or I’ll stop.”

“N-no!” You exclaim, too overwhelmed to see that his threat is an empty one, because he would never actually do something like that to you. “Please, please don’t stop.”

“Come on,” he cooes, the sweet words he whispers into your skin making you more and more malleable to his request. “Say my name baby, let me hear you.”

“Charles,” your loud moan cuts the heavy air in the bathroom. Cheeks flushed, breath unorganised and with that wild look in your eyes? There’s nothing Charles wouldn’t do for you. With every move of his hips, you moan his name louder, eventually tipping over the edge as he feels you squeezing his cock so tight that he almost loses himself then and there.

That’s not to say he doesn’t, of course. Because just as you’re about done with your orgasm, you feel him come inside you, chanting your name alongside mine, mine mine. It takes a long time for the both of you to get back to your senses, but he’s extremely gentle with you as he helps you down and fixes your underwear. You find yourself snuggling up to him when he eventually takes you into his arms after fixing his own clothing, nuzzling your nose to his neck. “You know, I think I like the jealous side of you.” You mumble, leaving a few kisses across his jaw.

“Yeah?” He asks, a breathy chuckle leaving him as he cradles your face with both of his hands, his thumbs caressing the apples of your cheeks.

“Yeah.” You nod, giving him a small smile, “But I need you to take me home, please, I can feel your cum dripping down my leg.”

“Oh baby,” he coos, tutting as he slides his hands down your body to grab you by the waist, “we’re not going home, it would be rude to leave our friends by themselves. Don’t you think so?” The flabbergasted look that you give him makes another chuckle come from his lips as he slowly turns you towards the door. His lips find the junction between your neck and shoulder again as he announces, “We’re going to go back out there, and we’re going to dance. We wouldn’t want you to miss your song now, would we?”

And when he opens the bathroom door and you hear the first words to a Rihanna song you love? You know it’s going to be a long night ahead of you.

[sweet-as-an-angel]

König x Petite Reader Headcanons

Warnings: Non-Explicit Implications of Sexual Content, Petite Reader, Size Kink, Jealous König, Insecure König, Implied 141 x Reader, Petnames, No Pronouns used for Reader except ‘You’.

A/N: Forgot that I'd already written this once before, so here we are with more König x Petite Reader Headcanons ! Just see this as some extra content for our beloved König and his smol s/o <3

When it comes to you, this man is F E R A L

Genuinely cannot believe how perfect you are.

Constantly jokes about how he could fit you in the palm of his hand.

And once, to shut him up, you proved him right by sitting on his open hand when he wasn’t expecting it and gave him a smug look.

“There,” you said, folding your arms over your chest. “You can fit me in your palm.”

König tried not to think of how close he was to your special parts, how warm you felt on him.

He had to disappear to the bathroom for a few minutes afterwards, and when he returned, his face was flushed and he could barely look you in the eye.

He’s never been the same after that. Any trace of a size kink he had before has been amplified to such an extent that he’s taken to hiding your clothes so you’ll have to wear his.

And he just can’t keep his hands off you whenever you do.

“My my, Engel,” he says, one hand sliding around your waist and pulling you closer to him, the other drawing the hem of his shirt further and further up your thighs.

“What could you be hiding under here ?”

Calls you his Mini Maus.

“Because you’re just so tiny and precious !” he gushes.

And since you’re so small compared to him, he treats you as if you’re fragile, like an endangered species of flower.

Concerning intimacy at the beginning of your relationship, König was concerned that he was too big for you.

But, when you put his mind at ease (and challenge him) – “I bet I can take you, Köni~” – you’re in for it.

König’s fighting spirit won’t let you off easy.

When he’s feeling more dominant, he bunches your wrists into one of his hands while he sits on top of you, his other hand slipping beneath your (his) shirt and slithering round the band of your underwear.

“Pretty little thing,” he says, a dangerous smile at his lips. “All weak and defenseless.” He leans down, his eyes dark and wild. “Just for me.”

If you try to struggle (consensually), he’ll smack you through your underwear. And not gently, either.

“Don’t test me, Mini,” he says, his grip about your wrists tightening. “You don’t know what I’m like when I’m angry.”

He loooooves fitting his hands around your waist.

Especially when he finds that his hands wrap around your middle and his fingers touch.

Size kink: upgraded.

He gets lowkey jealous if you ask someone else to reach something for you.

Will sulk about it.

“I just don’t see why you had to ask Ghost to get it for you,” he’ll say, frowning as he lies in bed.

You sigh, putting your book down.

“König, you weren’t even here !” you say. “And I was starving !”

König knows he’s being unreasonable, but he can’t help but feel like he can be easily replaced.

Especially when he knows the rest of the 141 would gladly drop everything to be with you.

He’s not stupid, he’s seen the way they look at you.

A few minutes alone together and a kind word – “You’re so perfect, Köni~ My big, big boy,” – will set him straight.

Loves showing you off to his friends. His acquaintances aren’t safe, either.

He’ll stand you before him and show you off to his associates like: ”Look, this is my partner ! Aren’t they beautiful ?!”

So help him god if anyone tries to show you up or disagree.

You’ll never see them again.

And neither will anyone else.

König loves you more than life itself, and regardless of his insecurities or your unwavering ability to have anyone you could ever want, he’s glad you chose him <3

Reblog for more content like this! It helps creators like myself tremendously and it is greatly appreciated :-)

Masterlist Masterlist [Continued] Masterpost Modern Warfare AI Masterlist

AO3 Wattpad

[verahella]

✧˖°. SIX EYES, TWO HEARTS

gojo satoru is the strongest for a reason. ambition burns a fire deep in his chest, large enough to match his ego. he’s constantly improving, honing his skills to a level of perfection no other sorcerer can reach. heck, he’s the only holder of the six eyes and limitless in four centuries.

but that’s only when you, the love of his life, his future wife (you just don’t know it yet), are not sitting right next to him.

you’d asked him to help you control your cursed energy and he’d accepted with an eager grin, showing you what he called the ‘best technique’—watching movies together. (no, it wasn’t his idea of proving to suguru that he had a date.)

your grip on gojo’s arm tightens at the shitty horror movie and his cursed energy leaks out the more his heartbeat races but he doesn’t care.

satoru steals a glance at you. your hair frames your face perfectly and there’s a frown on your soft lips he wants to wipe away and wow, he’s never noticed the arch of your nose before but it’s beautif—

smack!

the pain is blinding for a moment and satoru groans and clutches his nose. his vision doubles and he sees two of his attacker—one of yaga’s stupid dolls snoring at him. which idiot made it wear boxing gloves anyway?

oh.

“satoru, are you okay?” the tinge of panic in your voice breaks his stupor, “i didn’t think you’d be scared of ‘the ring’ but your heart is beating so fast—”

“i’m fine.” he smiles as a thin trail of blood drips from his nose, “i’m totally fine.”

“satoru, you’re bleeding—”

“it’s just a little blood.“ and a permanently flattened nose. he’ll have to contact a surgeon later.

gojo waves his hand in dismissal and puts an arm around the couch, an act that was supposed to be cool if you hadn’t heard the tiny whimper that left him.

your brows knit together in worry and you pull out a handkerchief, dabbing at the blood lightly. his elation at your proxmity lasts briefly before you pinch his nose and pull him closer, tilting his head up.

his mouth falls open, less because he’s shocked and more because that’s his only way of breathing now.

it’s a weird way to ask for a kiss but the sorcerer certainly doesn’t mind.

satoru leans in and puckers his lips, closing his eyes. this is it, finally, he’s managed to woo the girl of his dreams and that too with blood dripping from his nostrils. all that eavesdropping on you and wikihow knowledge finally paid off.

he’s a millimetre away from your lips when—

thwack!

“what are you doing, you creep?!”

satoru dazedly blinks and his fingers flit over the imprint of your palm on his cheek, “what?”

“you were trying to kiss me.”

“was i not supposed to?”

you look at him like he grew three heads, “no, you weren’t.”

satoru’s features twist in disappointment and his puppy eyes almost have you reconsidering, “oh.”

an awkward silence follows. yeah, you like satoru too. you like his cheesy jokes and how his laugh brightens up the room. just a teeny tiny bit.

but what else were you supposed to do except slapping him when he suddenly attacked you with fish lips and blood on his face?

still, as you see him caressing his cheek with an odd look on his face, guilt creeps up on you. maybe you shouldn’t have hit him that hard.

you sigh, “i’ll get some ice. until then…”

you kiss his cheek, a peck that lasts barely a moment but has both your cheeks heating up. “i hope this suffices.”

[saetoru]

✩ ‧₊˚ ✩。APOLOGIES — SHIDOU RYUSEI.

✩ — contents ⋮ fluff, gn! reader, established relationship, post argument make-up, annoying shidou as always, reposting bc it got marked w a label the first time even tho it’s sfw

dating shidou is not easy, it takes maturity and patience and the will of god’s strongest soldier. in fact, most of the time, dating shidou means you’re constantly drifting in and out of being mad at him—which, right now, you’re quite mad.

“shidou ryusei, it is one am,” you glare, opening your door and rubbing the sleep out of your eyes. he has a wolfish grin on his face—it’s cocky, and it widens as he stares you up and down in your little batman pajama pants. normally, you wouldn’t answer the door for someone you’re mad at, boyfriend or not, but shidou makes it hard to ignore with his incessant knocking.

you value your sleep—and more importantly, you value not being kicked from your apartment for noise complaints.

“aw, not the full government name,” he says slyly, and it only makes your blood pressure rise even more as you practically feel a vein pop.

“ryusei,” you warn. but he doesn’t pay attention, just as you expect. instead, he whistles lowly.

“i like the uniform. ‘s cute,” he cackles, eyeing the way your pants are hung a little lower on your hips from tossing around in bed, exposing a bit of skin that he drinks in shamelessly.

“thanks,” you say dryly, “they’re fuzzy and they were half off. now why are you here?”

“just visiting,” he shrugs.

“at one am?”

“it’s twelve fifty-two,” he corrects like he lives to defy you in every corner. and you bet he loves it—in fact, you know he’s positively enthused by the way your lips curl into a scowl and your eyes glare at him so fiercely. he stares down at the way your hips slant as your cross your arms, and he chuckles (which you think is almost passable as a giggle at the sheer giddiness.)

only shidou ryusei would be giddy from turning you halfway near homicidal, and only he would find the murderous glint in your eyes cute, wholesome.

“what do you want,” you say bluntly. he takes a step forward, and no matter how mad you are, you can’t help but stand painfully still as he leans closer, trying your damn hardest not to lean in when his hot breath fans over your face as he stares at you.

“your bed would be nice,” he hums, “preferably with you in it.”

he’s insufferable. everything he does and says makes you want to chuck bricks at his head and hope it fixes the loose wires he seems to have. but you don’t even get to finish saying, “fuck off, ryu—” before he cuts in.

“c’mon, don’t make me find a way in myself,” he curls his lips wickedly, like he’s got you in checkmate, like the cards have been in his favor all along as you play the game he’s written. but this time is different—this time, you’re determined not to let shidou take advantage of your weak heart through his rough and tough charms.

this time, you have a point to prove.

“i’m going to call the cops on you,” you threaten, “tell them i’m being harassed by a pink-haired freak.”

“i wouldn’t mind getting married in jail,” he grins, and you can practically make out the hearts in his eyes as he looks at you. it makes you want to slam the door in his face and go right back to bed. but that would only mean he’d go back to pounding on your door and singing your name, and you’re pretty sure you’re one more instance away from your neighbors collectively petitioning your eviction.

“i don’t want to marry you,” you hiss.

“don’t be like that,” he reaches to poke your cheek, “being inmates would be fun. we could give the officers a show as we fuck—”

“ryusei,” you hiss.

arguing with shidou always ends like this. he worms his way in and knocks down your walls without ever saying i’m sorry. he eases his way back into your heart with wide grins and cheeky comments and that charm of his that really shouldn’t be as endearing as it is. he never admits he’s wrong—but the way he tries harder the next time, makes sure he does it right, makes sure he’s better just for you, you know he cares. he never resolves things in the way you would consider the standard method of patching up after those unavoidable couple fights—but this time you decide it’s different. 

this time your feelings are hurt—really hurt. the kind of hurt that makes you wonder if you’re annoying. or if you talk a lot. or if he even wants to be around you. or that maybe you tire him out. or that the sound of your voice is grating. or that you overstep boundaries. 

this time there is no brushing the cracked shards of your heart under the rug and acting like he can kiss the pieces back together. this time you want to hear it from him—and if you have to stand at your door at ungodly hours of the morning and milk it out of him…well, you’re inclined to do that. 

“c’mon, babe. are you gonna keep me out here all night? lemme in—”

“you’re not coming in until you apologize,” you say bluntly. he groans, throws his head back, and slaps his hands over his face as he grumbles into his palms. 

“god, you’re killin’ me here. seriously, you know i didn’t mean it—”

“‘for fuck’s sake, i’m not your damn kid’,” you mock his voice from the other night, reminding him of his own words like he’s forgotten. he only stares at you with pursed lips and a blank face, but that doesn’t stop you, however, as you scowl at him and continue, “i don’t know. you seemed to really mean it when you said that.”

“i was just tired, you know that—”

“i was just trying to look out for you,” you don’t even seem like you’re listening to him anymore, poking a finger at his chest accusingly as he lets you, “i watch you sleep at unreasonable hours only to wake up before the sun itself—”

“yeah, and i told you i’d work on that—”

“and then i ask you, have you eaten today? and you know what you tell me? yeah, i had a protein shake this morning���”

“okay, and that was like one time—”

“and then i hear that you get into a fight, and lo and behold, you show up to my place with a bloody nose and cracked knuckles—”

“but you should’ve seen the other guy—”

“and then i come over to your apartment, and your laundry isn’t done, your dishes aren’t washed, and you have eighty million socks on the floor,” you start to put a finger up for everything you list, making him fiercely fight back a chuckle that he knows would seal his death wish, “and all i try to do is take care of you so that you can be healthy and play your best and what do you do? yell at me and tell me it’s not my responsibility to—”

you’re cut off by lips pressing onto yours harshly, the rough feeling of a calloused hand cupping your cheeks and bringing you closer. and maybe if you had a bit more self-respect, you would shove away the rude, ungrateful, irritating, tacky-haired douchebag of a boyfriend that stands in front of you, but you simply choose to lose all dignity when it counts most. you choose to give in, melt into his touch, lean closer and fist his shirt as your lips press back just as firm. 

and when he gently pushes you back, you let him. you even let him step into your apartment and spin you around, shutting the door and pressing your back against the cool surface. his body cages you so that there’s no room for escape—not that you think you could even run from him now that he’s let himself in, anyway. but with one more peck to your lips, he pulls away, pressing his forehead against yours as he clicks his teeth and sighs. 

“fine, i’m fuckin’ sorry. ‘s that what you wanted to hear?”

“not if you’re only saying it to make me un-mad,” you say stubbornly.

he clicks his teeth again, shoots you a look of irritation that you return tenfold. “‘m sayin’ it ‘cus i want to, dumbass. you think i’d say that shit just to say it?”

“i don’t know, you’re rude,” you shrug, not meeting his eyes. he rolls his eyes before he leans in and kisses your cheek, then the other, then the tip of your nose, then just over your brow, then your eyelid—and when he sees the beginnings of a smile crack on your lips, he nibbles on your cheek and pulls a soft giggle from you against your will. 

“said i was fuckin’ sorry, stop being stubborn.”

“don’t yell at me again,” you huff, “and fix your sleep schedule.”

“okay.”

“and eat proper meals.”

“fine.”

“and maybe clean up.”

“kay, i’ll try. happy?”

“and stop getting into fights—”

“let’s set realistic expectations, here,” he cuts you off, earning a huff from you. but you seem significantly less angry—and he’s glad. because sleeping without your body to squeeze in the dead of night and not hearing you hum that stupid song you always listen to as you wash dishes and not getting those back to back pings on his phone as you spam him with daily updates is starting to get to him. so he wraps an arm around your waist, tugs you flush against his chest as meets your gaze, “are you still mad? because then you’re just being difficult.”

“no,” you sigh, making him grin.

“good.”

“i just love you,” you mumble, and there’s that cute, innocent little pout that you always do tugging at your lips, the one that drives him mad and reminds him he’s just as in love too. “i want what’s best for you—”

“yeah, yeah,” he grunts, “okay. i love you too. i’ll start being more responsible and shit. now can i come to bed?”

“fine,” you cave, “but—”

“great, let’s go,” he drags you along, not wasting a moment before your body is tossed onto the mattress and his lands on top of you, head tucking into your neck. and it’s warm—where his lips are, where he traces kisses along the awaiting skin. 

dating shidou ryusei is exhausting—but there are a few perks, you have to admit. 

“you’re a headache,” you murmur, threading your fingers through his hair. he snorts, shakes his head from his place in your neck, earning a small giggle from you at the way it tickles. 

“yeah? so are you with your nagging.”

“i don’t nag,” you slap his shoulder. he laughs—it’s that low, soft rumble that he only laughs around you, when his head is tucked into your neck, and your hands rub up and down his back, and he’s content. 

and maybe a little in love. 

“you do. but i love it, it’s hot when you’re mad.”

“go to sleep, ryusei,” you roll your eyes. and then you wait a moment or two—just so he doesn’t get a big head when you begrudgingly mumble, “and i love you too.”

half of this is just filler with dialogue but wtv. take this lil scenario in my head of arguing w shidou bc he’s a living train wreck

[kisses4kaia]

on my knees, foaming at the mouth, begging for more sub coryo

u guys are so funny oh my goodness😭 (slight au where sejanus did not die because we love him🥰) i got a bit carried away as you can see!! but that’s ok !!!! also, university!corio .. okok go read now plz enjoy and reblog :)

being the girlfriend of the winner to the plinth prize whilst simultaneously biting your tongue constantly was no easy feat.

every thoughtless, careless, borderline sexist, comment corio received from older men—and even some of your male peers—along the lines of, “oh, she’s a pretty little thing, isn’t she? bet you keep her on her knees, huh?” (whilst you were right there, mind you!), infuriated you beyond belief and typically made corio tense up and awkwardly brush them off.

because no, corio did not always keep you on your knees. as a matter of fact, it was quite the opposite. you had him on his knees, every night, begging and pleading for a taste of you. and if he was a good boy, he would get one. you were assertive, not cruel.

you so badly wished you could shut them down, tell them exactly how it is, but you still loved and respected corio, and you knew what might happen to his reputation if that kind of secret got out.

so you kept on biting your tongue.

and tonight, corio’s arm is snaked around your torso and his large palm rests on the small of your back.

you’re at a elite party he was invited to, making friendly conversation with clemensia and sejanus while throwing witty comments back and forth with your boyfriend, when all of a sudden, one of crassus snow’s old friends come up to the both of you and it goes how you would expect; however, this time, something’s different.

this time, he laughs boisterously and nods, agreeing with the crude comment the man made. coriolanus shakes his hand and says “oh, absolutely. would you expect any less from my father’s son?”

you are fucking appalled, and the astounded expression on your face doesn’t do much to hide it.

when the old man whose name you didn’t bother to remember finally leaves, corio finally looks down at you to see your narrow eyes shooting daggers into his.

you say no words and storm off, and he’s hot on your trail. “baby? baby, hold up, slow down!”

you heed no mind to his words, and only stop your stampede when you find an unoccupied bedroom and drag him inside.

it was glamorous, which was to be expected, considering the host of the party was volumnia gaul; she always was one for dramatic flare. the ceiling was high and the walls were crowned in gold paint. the layout was simple, there was nothing but a queen-sized bed, an empty dresser, and bare vanity gracing its presence, all but proving that it was not it use, and perfectly fine for you to punish coriolanus in.

“what the fuck was that?” your voice is scornful and with the way your face twists up and contorts into a look of contempt, he knows he’s in for it.

he stumbles over his words, trying to think of a way he can phrase his words to deescalate the situation, lessen the blow for himself. “i-i’m sorry. i don’t know what i was thinking. please, honey. please forgive me. i’m begging you,”

the last phrase causes you to look up at him before smirking wickedly, “are you?”

you can see it dawn on him, the realization that you really are going to make him beg—the proper way, down on his knees.

he sighs ashamedly before letting his knees buckle, right one hitting the ground, the left following suit.

the slicked back hair on his scalp gleams perfectly underneath the warm overhead lighting the small chandelier provides, and his glossy, devastatingly blue, eyes are boring into yours as his bottom lip begins to quiver ever so slightly.

“i’m so, so, so, fucking, sorry. i’m so stupid, i just didn’t want him to think lowly of my fathers kin. i fucked up, i know, just, please, please, forgive me,”

he sounds like he’s on the verge of tears when he speaks and you can’t help but revel in how hot this all is. having one of the most powerful men in the capitol at your feet, pleading for you, you have to work hard in order to conceal the ache between your legs.

“show me, then.” you turn around on him and walk to the bed, sitting, before crossing your legs and leaning back, dangerous, siren eyes inviting corio to crawl to you.

he doesn’t even hesitate before getting on his hands and knees and desperately pawing at the ground, trying to get close to you again. and when he reaches your sat figure, he grabs your ankles, uncrossing them and pulling your high heels off slowly, all before kissing his way up your calf, and up to your mid-thigh, where the slit in your dress begins. he looks up at you pleadingly, expression reading ‘may i?’ and you could praise him for being so polite if he wasn’t enduring punishment.

you nod slightly, raising your hips just enough so corio could hike your dress up, bunching up at your waist.

his eyes stay on yours, watching you intently as he pulls your delicate, lacy, black and pink, panties down your smooth legs, before gently placing them on the floor next to him.

when you part your legs ever so slightly, the eyes boring into yours spark up with excitement and hope. he finally breaks eye contact when he shuts his eyes and lays his tongue flat against your cunt, lapping up the ego-boosting amount of arousal that’s drooling from your achy hole.

he’s so perfect for you, timing his transitions between fucking into you with his tongue and sucking on your clit just the way he’s learned you like just right, never lingering too long on one part of you.

at this point, you have your legs wrapped around his head tight, nearly restricting his facility to breathe, shamelessly moaning and praising his ministrations. “fuck, yes corio! oh fuck, you’re gonna make me cum? yeah? so fucking pathetic,” you spit at him in between borderline moans so pornographic that you’re apprehensive that somebody outside of the four walls you’re in may hear you, but it doesn’t seem to bother you that much, considering the lack of you lowering your own volume.

and the sounds, the sounds are vile, fucking disgusting. his salivated muscle messily dragging all over your labia, his perfectly pouted lips making out with your pussy like he’s in love with it (he is). all of the insanely erotic factors of this moment don’t do anything to hold off your impending release, and with a weak cry of the boy beneath you’s name, sweet syrup leaks out from your tight hole lands onto corio’s anticipating tongue, and you can feel him smile against you at the taste of it.

he drinks it all down in no time and when he continues to lather his tongue all over your clit, not seeming to want to be done, you have to physically pull his head away from you as a result of overstimulation.

he frowns but when he sees the look on your face, your exhausted, satisfied, fucked-out, face, he has to bite his lip to contain his smile.

“i did good?” there’s a special twinkle to his eye, and you find it all-enamoring.

“so good,”

“you forgive me?”

“yes, but next time you pull some shit like that, i’ll jerk you off under the dinner table, you hear me?”

[mswritergirl02]

38 Missed calls and Tequila

In which Harry and y/n fight causing her to storm out

-> Reader advisory: mentions of alcohol and explicit language, proceed with caution.

A/N : Taking requests (:

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Y/N paced back and forth in the living room, her hands clenched into fists at her sides. “I can’t believe you, Harry! You always do this, you never listen to me!”

Harry’s brows furrowed, his frustration bubbling to the surface. “And what about you, huh? Do you think you’re always right? You’re so damn stubborn!”

“Well, maybe if you cared about my opinion for once—”

“Care about your opinion? I bend over backwards for you, Y/N! But it’s never enough, is it? You always find something else to complain about!”

“Oh, so now this is all my fault, is it? Typical!”

Harry threw his hands up in exasperation. “For fucks sake I never said that!

Y/N’s voice trembled with anger and hurt as she launched her accusation.

“You know what, Harry? I bet you’re cheating on me, aren’t you? That’s why you’re always so secretive about your phone, always disappearing at odd hours!”

Harry’s eyes widened in disbelief. “Are you serious, Y/N? I’ve told you a million times, that I’m not cheating on you! You’re just making things up because you can’t stand losing a fucking argument!”

Y/N’s voice rose at his accusation. “Oh, please! Don’t act like you’re innocent in all of this! I see the way you look at other girls, Harry! You can’t fool me!”

Harry’s patience snapped, his frustration evident in his tone. “I can’t believe you’re bringing this up again! You’re always jumping to conclusions, always looking for a bloody reason to doubt me! Maybe it’s your own insecurities that are driving us apart!”

Y/N’s anger faltered, replaced by a pang of hurt. “I’m not insecure, Harry! I just want to know that I can trust you!”

“Well, maybe if you gave me a chance to prove it instead of constantly accusing me of things I didn’t do!”

“I’ve been nothing but loyal to your crazy ass for four fucking years,” Harry declared, his voice tinged with frustration and hurt.

The tension in the room was thick, each word a painful reminder of the growing rift between them. Y/N’s heart ached with the weight of their words, knowing deep down that her accusations were absurd, Harry loved her. Still she was unable to stop herself from lashing out in a desperate attempt to regain control of the argument.

Y/N's lips curled into a sneer as she spat out, "Go fuck yourself, Harry!"

With that, she snatched her keys off the coffee table and stormed out, the door slamming shut behind her.

Harry stared at the closed door, his chest tight with frustration. "You're fucking crazy," he yelled, knowing she couldn't hear him and was long gone. He cursed out loud and sank onto the couch, running his hand over his face.

“A bloody fucking carpet," he muttered to himself, the absurdity of their argument hitting him like a ton of bricks. They had been fighting over a bloody carpet, of all things. It was ridiculous, and yet somehow it had escalated to Y/N storming out in anger.

They hadn't been in the best place lately. Y/N was constantly stressed out at the office, working long hours, barely having time for herself, let alone for him. And Harry, always buried in his work, was rarely home to see her, too caught up in his next album to notice the distance growing between them.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

12am

38 outgoing calls

Harry’s nerves were on edge. He had called Y/N 38 times since she stormed out, each call going straight to voicemail. It wasn’t like her to stay out this late, and the thought of not knowing where she was made his stomach churn with anxiety.

Pacing back and forth in their empty apartment, Harry’s mind raced with worry. He had grown accustomed to Y/N’s silent treatments during their arguments, but this was different. This silence felt suffocating.

12:30 am

“Answer your phone, Y/N,” Harry muttered under his breath, frustration and fear mingling in his voice. He reached for his phone once again, fingers trembling as he clicked on her contact for the 39th time. But this time, instead of the familiar voicemail greeting, a stranger’s voice answered Y/N’s phone.

As Harry heard the unfamiliar male voice answer Y/N’s phone, his heart raced with a surge of protectiveness. “Who the hell are you?” he demanded, his tone sharp with urgency. “Why the hell do you have Y/N’s phone? Where is she?”

Before Harry could ask any more questions or receive a response, the phone call ended abruptly.

12:45am

It was around 12:45am when It clicked in Harry’s mind, Y/N had insisted they shared their locations when they first started dating. Harry quickly opened the app on his phone and zoomed in on her location.

Maggies Bar & Grill.

Confusion washed over him when he saw that Y/N was at a bar. Drinking was something she rarely did, especially alone at this hour. Harry’s heart raced with worry, imagining all sorts of worst-case scenarios.

Without hesitation, he grabbed his keys, and got behind the wheel. He knew he had to reach Y/N as fast as possible.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Meanwhile, Y/N found herself in fits of laughter, seated on a bar stool behind the counter of Maggies. With tears of joy rolling down her cheeks, she swiftly grabbed her phone back from the male bartender’s grasp. Giggling, she teasingly whispered, “Don’t tell Harry,” and playfully pressed a finger to her lips.

Earlier, Y/N had confided in the sympathetic bartender about her rocky relationship with Harry. Each heartfelt confession she made was chased down with another shot of tequila, the weight of the world was momentarily lifted by the warmth of the alcohol. What she didn't know was that the bartender discreetly slipped her keys into his pocket when her attention wandered, silently determined to prevent her from making any rash decisions in her inebriated state.

“Y/N, I’m cutting you off,” the bartender said for what felt like the tenth time that night, his tone gentle yet firm. “All you’re getting is water from now on.”

Y/N pouted, shoving the glass of water away. “But I’m having fun!” she protested, her words slightly slurred from the alcohol. “I can handle a few more drinks, I promise.”

The bartender shook his head, a hint of concern in his eyes. “I’m sorry, Y/N. I can’t risk serving you any more alcohol. It’s for your own safety.” With that, he gently pushed the glass of water back towards her, silently urging her to hydrate and sober up.

“You’re such a buzzkill,” Y/N slurred, her tone growing more aggressive as she leaned in towards the bartender, her eyes narrowed.

The bartender stood his ground, not going back on his decision. “I’m not serving you any more drinks tonight,” he stated once again.

Y/N’s frustration bubbled over, and she clenched her fists slamming them on the counter. “You can’t cut me off!” she snapped.

Just as Y/N opened her mouth to make a scene once more , Harry entered the bar, his eyes immediately locking onto her. With purpose in his stride, he made his way over to where she sat, his gaze briefly flickering to the bartender.

Harry’s expression was a mix of relief and concern as he approached. “Is everything okay here?” he asked.

The bartender met Harry’s gaze, his expression serious. “Harry I'm assuming? Yeah, everything’s fine now,” he replied, gesturing towards Y/N. “I had to cut her off a while ago. She’s had enough for tonight.” Recognizing Harry by Y/n's lock screen on her phone and his contact name.

Harry’s brow furrowed in confusion. “But then who called me from her phone?” he questioned, his eyes narrowing slightly as he searched for answers.

The bartender hesitated for a moment before reaching into his pocket and pulling out Y/N’s keys. “It was me,” he admitted, handing them over to Harry. “I knew she shouldn’t be driving in her condition.”

Relief flooded Harry’s features as he accepted the keys. “Thank you,” he said sincerely, grateful for the bartender’s quick thinking.

Y/N’s drunken aggression flared as Harry turned towards her. “What are you doing here?” she slurred, her tone sharp with irritation.

“I don’t need you babysitting me.”

Of course she's drinking tequila the one thing that brings out her temper even more

Harry cut her off with a stern glare, “Your breath reeks of fucking tequila and you’re in no condition to drive,”.

Y/N turned towards the bartender, “You're a fucking snitch” she accused him loudly causing heads to turn in their direction. Harry’s annoyance grew as he watched her escalate the situation.

“Y/N, you’re causing a fucking scene,” Harry muttered, frustrated to which she scoffed, pushing herself unsteadily to her feet.

She held out her hand. “Give them back. I’m driving myself home, I don’t want to look at you.”

Harry’s heart sank at her words, but he knew he couldn’t let her make such a reckless decision. “I can’t do that, Y/N,” he said gently, stepping closer to her. “You’re not thinking clearly right now. Let me take you home.”

Y/N shook her head stubbornly, her anger fueling her determination. “No!” she insisted, her voice rising.

“I’m not going anywhere with you. Just give me my keys!”

He was over her drunk antics.

Stepping uncomfortably close to her, he took the time to observe the way her hair fell over her ear. With a firm yet gentle touch, he reached out and tucked her hair behind her ear, his fingertips lingering for a moment before trailing down her cheek.

Leaning in, Harry's voice dropped to a low and dangerous tone. “Y/N you better listen to me.”

“Drop the fucking attitude,” he snapped his breath sending a shiver down her spine as it brushed against her skin.

Now fully gaining her attention Harry continued speaking. “You're gonna lower your voice and follow me to the car like the good girl I know you are."

Y/n began to feel as if her legs were putty with each word she processed.

“Don't make me embarrass you here love,” he said while running his finger over her bottom lip.

“Because I can and I will.”

Harry's words hung in the air, commanding and unwavering leaving no room for argument.

Masterlist

Lights Out

[nochukoo97]

when you get into an argument

main work | masterlist

pairing: boxer!jungkook x boxer!reader

wc: 1.5k+

“You’re in a match against who?” An exasperated gasp leaves your mouth upon hearing the name of a particular person.

“Eunwoo,” Jungkook leans forward to put down his cup, before facing you on the couch, “Got set up with him again,”

“He’s going to be harder on you considering you beat him in the last match though,” You mutter, voice quieting down as you notice Jungkook frowning at you.

“Are you doubting me?” He hums, not breaking eye contact as you shake your head, stretching out your legs to lay them on his lap.

His hands automatically stroke over the soft skin of your legs, noticing you were a little colder than usual, so he reaches for the blanket laid on the couch and covers your legs.

“No,” You tell him honestly, you’ve never doubted Jungkook’s strength once, “I’m just saying he could poke you in the wrong way-”

“I’ll be fine, ___,” He sighs, cutting you off abruptly as you now frown at him, feeling the tensions rising already.

“Okay,” You hum, shrugging as you curl your legs against your body, removing the weight that once was on your boyfriend’s lap.

“I won’t do anything bad, I promise,” He tells you softly now, sensing you were still unsure about this whole thing. To be fair, Jungkook only wanted another match with Eunwoo to prove once again that he could beat the guy, since Eunwoo had been constantly asking for a rematch, claiming he would take Jungkook down. Who was he to not accept the offer?

“But you know what almost happened last time,” You sigh, leaning your head back onto the arm rest of the couch as you stretch.

“I’m not a kid, I can handle him fine,” His voice grows with frustration, maybe even a hint of annoyance, “Anyways I’ll win him this time again, it doesn’t matter what he says, I know my strengths,”

“I didn’t say you were being a kid, I meant that you know too how Eunwoo can be,” You wince slightly thinking about the guy, “He knows how to annoy his opponents through words and won’t back down,”

“I know him, he’s my opponent, I’ve played against him for years now, so I don’t know why you’re the one telling me about him,” Jungkook’s voice raises ever so slightly, as you simply nod, deciding it was better to not say anything further, the tension in the room had been already so suffocating, you didn’t want to fight with your boyfriend.

“___, you know what I mean,” He sighs, his voice slightly softer this time, but you don’t give him much of a reply.

Jungkook only gets another hum from you as he watches you open up your book, diverting your attention away from him.

-

“You got everything?” You call out from the kitchen, quickly packing up a small lunch for Jungkook to take with him.

“Yeah, thanks baby,” He shuffles into the kitchen, pressing a quick kiss to your forehead as you hand him the lunchbox, patting his shoulder.

You couldn’t attend his match since you had an online lecture to attend, juggling school and boxing was definitely not an easy task, but you somehow managed to get through everyday fine.

Your unresolved conflict was still in the back of your mind, his too. You weren’t going to lie, you could still feel the tension from him, the way he only pecked your forehead instead of giving you a proper kiss, the way he didn’t hug you this morning, instead mumbling a quick “morning,”.

Your heart aches a little as you watch him walk out the door, maybe you shouldn’t have expected him to walk back to you to give you a proper goodbye, his goodluck kiss before a match.

-

You should be laughing right now at how predictable the outcome was. Here you are, on the phone with Jungkook’s manager as you quickly gather up your stuff, grabbing your car keys as you head out the door.

“___, I swear you have to pick him up right now,”

“Exactly what did he do?” Your panting, from running all over the house trying to fetch your belongings before running to your car.

“I’m not sure, they broke out in a fight in the preparation room, no one was there until I walked in, but he definitely has a scratch on his face,” You hear his manager sigh over the phone, probably expecting this to happen as well.

“I’m on my way, I gotta hang up now,” You press the end call button and start your car, trying your best to keep within the speed limit as you rush over.

-

When you open the door that has Jungkook’s name labeled on it, you’re met with him sitting on the couch and staring at his shoes, as if he knew you were coming.

“Pack up your things,” Your voice is monotonous as you tell him, not walking further into the room as you stand at the doorway, watching as he scrambles to pick up his bag and gloves.

You seriously don’t want to be mad at him, not after his fight got called off, meaning that he would have lost a ton of money betting on him. But the fact that the both of you had gotten into an argument about this happening, it just fueled your frustrations further, not to mention the fact that you may get a very upset email from your lecturer later for suddenly leaving the online class.

The walk to the car is silent, too silent for Jungkook’s liking. To be fair, it was his fault for walking on thin ice with Eunwoo, maybe he did throw in an insult or two, but he definitely did not expect Eunwoo to throw in a punch after calling the guy weak.

You get in the driver’s seat of the car, not bothering to glance at your boyfriend once as he sits in the passenger seat, head tilted towards you, waiting for your next move.

“Are you mad?” Jungkook breaks the silence first. It’s almost insane how wobbly and quiet his voice has gotten, considering it’s the same man who does boxing for a living.

A scoff leaves your mouth as you turn to him, clearly upset that you had to leave mid-lecture to pick your boyfriend up, for what? For punching his opponent because of their long rivalry with each other.

“You think? I told you already, it wasn’t a good idea, and you told me you wouldn’t do anything!” Your voice raises slightly as you cross your arms, waiting for his reply.

“I didn’t start it, he hit me first,” Jungkook tells you, his tone suggesting he had not fully understood why you were so upset right now.

“Jungkook,” You deadpan, he winces at the lack of a pet name. “You don’t get it? Even if he hits you, you don’t hit back! You’re not in the ring for goodness sake, if word goes out that you retaliated back at him, do you even know how much risk your career would be at?”

He lowers his head, keeping silent. You were right, he knew you were upset for a valid reason.

“I know it’s hard not to retaliate back, but it’s the one thing you need to do, to not punch the guy back! It just goes to show that the both of you aren’t thinking straight, I thought at least you would be sensible enough not to retaliate,” You sigh, starting the car without waiting for his reply.

Jungkook doesn’t say anything, only stares out the window as the both of you drive home in silence. His heart ached a little at your harsh yet true words, all he could do was sit in regret and hope that you would not stay mad at him for long.

-

When you pull into the car park and park the car, Jungkook waits for you to say something. The silence is killing him. But you simply grab your bag and shut the car door, not waiting for him to get out.

He flinches slightly at the car door shutting a little louder than usual, watching as you walk towards the lift lobby of your shared apartment, he quickly unbuckles his seatbelt and rushes to catch up.

“I’m really sorry,” He whispers, slightly glossy eyes staring straight at you, but you don’t look back at him.

“You don’t need to be sorry to me Jungkook, I just warned you about this happening and you insisted it won’t, yet here we are,” You huff, walking out the lift as it opens.

Fuck, he messed up big time. Jungkook wants to turn back time, to maybe have listened to you carefully and not say such harsh words when this was where he ended up. He had never seen you so mad before, so mad at him, to be specific.

He doesn’t know what to do, doesn’t know what to say. He watches as you walk into the kitchen to reheat tonight’s dinner, but his heart pounds in his chest, his heart aches as he watches you grow in frustration when the microwave’s buttons falter. Jungkook is dying to help you, but he’s afraid, afraid that you’re too mad at him to even be around him.

taglist: @sparklingocean @idkjustlovingbts @moonstar127 @babybella337 @ane102 @synnfulqt

[reidluvs]

Wanna say that again?

𓆩♡𓆪 pairing= spencer reid x bau!reader

𓆩♡𓆪wc= 1.7k

𓆩♡𓆪cw= dom!spencer, bau!reader, overtimulation, degrading, piv, hand kink, slight breatheplay.

You were the new kid at the BAU. While you were the youngest and most afraid, you were still almost the smartest one there.

Almost...

Of course, Spencer Reid made it his mission to belittle you every time you happened to unfortunately be near him. Constantly comparing your college degrees, and asking you questions that he knew you couldn't answer. You hated the sly smirk that would appear on his face every time your face flushed red as you left another one of his ridiculous questions unanswered, and you hated even more how the entire team seemed to think it was a little joke between the two of you. He was arrogant. Cocky. Completely self-absorbed. And you didn’t want anything to do with him.

Once during a case, you and Spencer were put on the task of solving the geographical profile together. You knew it would be a nightmare, but Hotch insisted that all members of the team need to be able to work together, so you unwillingly walked towards Spencer to begin to help work out the profile. The second he sees the anger on your face, he comments in his condescending smartass voice. 

“What's wrong Y/n? Scared you won't be able to follow along with what I’m doing? Don’t worry, you just sit there and look pretty and I’ll solve the case, after all, that is at least one thing you’re good at.” The anger that you felt in your body began to mix with confusion as he made that last comment. Was Spencer Reid calling you pretty? You didn’t care, because you knew from then on it was your mission to prove that you could keep up with him.

One day after a particularly gruesome case, the entire team went out for drinks. You had grown very close to Emily, so as you saw her walk in the bar you hyped each other up immediately. You knew you looked good, and it felt good to finally be able to drink and dance and not think about the annoying man at work that you had to deal with every day. Spencer didn’t come to these events, he believed they were a waste of his time and he could be “doing better things,” and it didn’t bother you one bit, as you drank more and began to dance with Emily on the floor. 

After hours of drinking and dancing, you and the other BAU girls were all sitting at a table just talking, and Spencer happened to be brought up. You began ranting about all the things he does to you that makes your blood boil. The conversation lasted way longer than it felt, you listing everything about him that you couldn’t stand.

“He always makes me feel so inferior to him, and he tells me to just sit there and “look pretty” while he actually does the work. It’s just so unfair, I’m just as smart as him.” As you finish your sentence in an aggravated huff, you look up and see Spencer standing right next to your table. You aren’t sure when he got there, but he stood in a black suit jacket with a dark red buttoned shirt under it, a few too many buttons undone. Something about this lighting made you realize features about him that you had never taken note of before. His growing shaggy hair, his piercing eyes, and his hands. You had never noticed his hands before, but you made a mental note to start doing so. 

“Spencer… How much of that did you hear?” You asked nervously, impatiently waiting for his reply. Suddenly everything you said began to run through your mind.

“Enough.” He replied in a stern tone and you felt a shiver go down your spine. “Can you come with me please Y/n?” He asked in the same even tone, and even though your brain was saying no, your body disobeyed and followed his order. You stood up from the booth, pulling down the short dress that you were wearing to try and cover more of your body. You felt exposed as Spencer grabbed your arm and took you out of the bar. As he opened the door of his car and guided you into the passenger seat, you questioned what was going to happen, but you couldn’t deny that you were excited about whatever he was going to do to you. 

The car ride home was silent, Spencer's hands gripping the steering wheel tight while the silence filled the air, and you began to feel more antsy as time went on. You started to shift around in your seat, crossing your legs to try and ease the growing feeling in your core, but to no avail. When you finally made it back to what seemed like Spencer's apartment, he opened the door and pulled you out of the car.

Once you made it to Spencer's room, he finally began to speak again.

“So you’re telling the team about me now huh?” His voice mockingly questions you.

“Spencer I didn’t know you were there, I’m sorry, I was just angry and was trying to get some stuff off my plate”, you tried to defend, but the look on his face never lightened during your sentence. 

“I want you to prove it” He states, no context to the sentence he just uttered.

“Prove what?”

“Prove that you can keep up with me.” He begins to walk closer to you. “I’m going to fuck you senseless until you understand that you will never be able to compete with me.” He ends his sentence and dives towards your face, landing his lips on yours for a kiss.

The kiss is far from sweet, with possessiveness and dominance oozing from his lips alone. You whimper into his mouth at the sudden contact, and he uses that as an opportunity to stick his tongue down your throat, exploring your mouth with his. 

He breaks from the kiss and leads you to his bedroom, stripping you of your clothes so you’re only left in your underwear by the time you make it to his room. He throws you on the bed and continues what you were doing in the living room, his lips slowly traveling down to the base of your neck while his hand also slides up your body as he gently places it at the base of your throat. Your breath hitches, something that Spencer takes to note but doesn’t address right away.

“I thought you hated me Spencer,” you breathe out as he continues the work on your neck. 

“I hated that you were almost as smart as me” He replies, words vibrating through your throat. You realize that Spencer always beloved you were smart, but he was just too embarrassed to admit it.

Spencer finally moves his hand to where you really want it, beginning to rub you through your underwear. You begin to whimper and squirm under his touch, and he chuckles at your reacting as he continues and holds you down by applying more pressure to your neck with his other hand, which makes you writhe even more under him.

Without warning, Spencer slides your underwear to the side, and slips a finger into you with ease. He works you open as you begin to get closer to the edge, whining and begging him to continue.

“Oh my god Spencer right there, please don't stop.” Your sentences falling out of your mouth in a string of moans, and much to your dismay, your begging causes him to still inside of you. He takes his fingers out as you clench around nothing, and he brings his fingers to his mouth, sucks your arousal off of his fingers, and makes intense eye contact with you the whole time

“Do you think you’re ready for my cock baby?” His question is mixed with a simple statement, as he begins to unzip his pants and pull his cock out of its constraints. You had never thought about Spencer having a big dick, but then again you’ve never thought about him “fucking you senseless”, so you’ve been wrong in the past. Spencer pulls down your panties, and begins to tease his cock in your hole. 

“Please Spencer. Please fuck me hard! I need you inside of me.” You beg, doing anything to have Spencer fuck you right in this moment.

“You’re gonna regret asking for that,” he explains, suddenly slamming into you. You’ve never had sex with someone as big as Spencer before, and the feeling is unlike anything else you’ve ever experienced before. His pace is relentless, leaning down into your ear to degrade you as he fucks into you, ignoring your protests as he deepens even more inside you.

“You begged for me to fuck you, so now you take it like a good girl,” he panted, his words instantly adding to the feeling in your core, which is rapidly increasing. You mutter out a weak “Yes sir,’ to which you feel his cock stutter inside you.

You can feel yourself reaching an orgasm, screaming out for Spencer to allow you to come

“Spencer, yes! Right there oh my god I’m gonna cum keep going please! Please let me cum Spencer!” You begin to scream as you rock against him, and luckily he continues at the same pace and allows your orgasm. You feel the familiar warmth as you finally reach your climax, body falling even farther into the bed. 

As you try to come down from your high, you realize that Spencer id keeping up his relentless pace inside of you, showing no mercy to your overstimulated clit. You begin to feel immense pleasure mixed with slight pain, but no matter what you do or say, Spencer is continuing his slamming inside of your cunt. 

“I told you that you would never be able to keep up with me, and I’m proving that right now, aren’t I Y/n?” His question is one that needs no answer, as you know you can’t lose his stupid arrogant battle. You continue to take his large cock inside of you as you feel yourself reach a second orgasm, but again he doesn't stop. He dumps his cum inside of you and continues like your just his sex toy, a mix of his and your cum dripping down your legs.

As you reach your third orgasm, you hope that Spencer is as tired as you and might stop soon, but the second he opens his mouth again you know unfortunately not the truth

“God I could just fuck you forever. How many orgasms until you give up? 5? 12? Are you gonna pass out from being fucked so much? It’s really up to you Y/n, cause I don’t plan on stopping anytime soon.” You realize that you must admit defeat, because this is a relentless battle that you’ll unfortunately never win.

“Ok Spencer, I admit it. I can’t keep up with you.” You say as calmly as you can, overstimulation overwhelming you. 

“My slut finally admits defeat, I knew you would eventually baby.” He flaunts as he pulls out of you, cum leaking all over both of your bodies and he falls on top of you. He kisses you softly and whispers sweet nothings in your ear, and then he runs you a warm bath.

As he washes your hair and you think that being fucked by your hot co-worker couldn’t get any better, the thing he says next has you almost ready for round 2.

“Next time, we should see how many orgasms I can give you until you’ve passed out on my dick.” He whispers somehow sweetly in your ear, his words in complete contrast with his voice.

Yeah, this whole co-worker thing is gonna work out.

THANK U FOR READING!!! lemme know if u want a part 2 at some point with one Spencer said at the end 🤗🤗

[gay-dorito-dust]

could you do asexual reader x Jason Todd headcanons?

I know this hdc won’t resonate for most in the ace community, cuz it’s a spectrum, but I hopes it at least resonates with some, even if it’s one person. That’s more enough for me. (Also sorry for the shit writing as usual)

Jason doesn’t mind that you’re asexual. You were still you at the end of the day, so he doesn’t understand why some people tend to make a big deal out of it.

It’s not like you being asexual was hurting anyone but he guessed that some people just harbour vast amounts of hate for things they don’t/refuse to understand bc they’ve been conditioned into thinking that it’s a bad thing.

Others are just cunts that Jason gladly beats the piss out of in your honour. (Acephobes plz die disrespectfully thanks)

He will not tolerate any sort of disrespect towards you and needless to say having a six foot something man who’s built like an absolute tank is enough to silence those types of people rather quickly.

He’s more then willing to do this for anyone that you knew who was ace, aro, or was in the LGBTQIA community in general, that he becomes a someone that a lot of them could come to when in need of help, or was just in need of a safe space.

He’s unbothered by it because as long as he’s helping someone in need, he’s more than willing to offer his shoulder for them to cry on.

(I just like the idea of Jason being a protector of LGBTQIA youths.)

After all he once took joy in beating the absolute piss out of a biphobe for Tim. Sure he may not have a great relationship with his siblings, but he’s not one to ignore when they’re being treated like shit for being who they were.

He respects your boundaries and will always ask whether or not it was okay for him to kiss you, to which you’d always have to tell him that it was more then okay for him to kiss you.

He understands that asexuality was a spectrum and would ask which part of the spectrum you were apart of, and acts in accordance to make sure that you’re more than comfortable in your relationship.

He’s always finding ways to constantly learn about asexuality and more. He’s even got a whole bookshelf dedicated to LGBTQIA history because he wants to better himself and do right by you and other people who look up to him to protect them. He takes that shit seriously.

He just loves you very much and wants you to feel as though you could tell him anything that’s bothering you and he’ll gladly bring you its head if you’d like just to prove it.

If you are okay with kisses and the like, be prepared to be swarmed by it at every possible opportunity with this teddy bear, for he will smother your face in kisses as he holds you against him, smiling upon hearing you laugh and poor attempts in pushing him away. It’s a highlight of his day because when you’re happy, he’s happy.

You don’t like sex? That’s okay! He’ll make you have Junk food dates with him where you stuff your faces either pizza with stuffed crust (you can eat it in reverse) and garlic bread and watch shitty movies as you cuddle on the couch.

You: you don’t think I’m broken?

Jason; no. Why, who’s told you that you were broken because it’s a bunch of bullshit. You’re the most important person in my life and I’d do just about anything for you, no matter how big or small it may seem because at the end of the day I want to see you happy. So listen to me sweetheart and listen good, you are not broken. You are perfection incarnate in my eyes, you are everything I could’ve hoped to have by my side for you’ve never judged me, so I don’t see why I should judge you for being your truest self. Thats a bit hypocritical don’t you think?

Jason: So don’t ever think you’re broken when you’re far from it, you are whole and you are more than enough. I don’t care if we have sex on occasion or not at all, your happiness is all I care about. I want you to be happy for the rest of our lives together because now I’ve got you I’m not letting you go. Ever. I couldn’t care less about anything else but when it concerns you, I’d move mountains to make things better for you. I love you chipmunk, please don’t ever feel like you’re broken when you’re so much more than that, and I’ll spend the rest of my life proving it.

[jamiewintons]

Sex with Sanji would include…

Requested by: Anonymous Warnings: Smut (18+ ONLY) Sanji Tag List: @elizabeth-hatake @mhsofe @nubigenouss  (Fill out this form to join!)

●Sanji is pretty experienced, which leads to him being incredibly skilled and confident in bed (or wherever else the two of you decide to have your fun). He knows exactly how to make you feel good, and he’s very proud of that fact, so he can’t help but be a little smug when he gives you yet another mind-blowing orgasm.

●He talks a lot during both make-out sessions and sex. Like he’ll often whisper in your ear, his voice lower than usual with arousal, telling you how good you feel and how much he loves being with you like this. He’ll talk you both to and through your orgasm(s), usually throwing a few ‘good girl’s in there.

●Sanji loves to praise you all throughout sex, calling you all kinds of pet names and constantly telling you how wonderful and beautiful you are. He can’t ever bring himself to degrade you, because in his mind, it’s not only insulting but lying. You’re an absolute goddess in his eyes, so why would he ever tell you any different?

●He could spend hours upon hours just worshipping your body, covering you in kisses and caressing every inch of you. Literally every part of you is perfect to him, and he’ll especially focus on areas that he knows you’re insecure about, because he needs you to know that you’re gorgeous.

●When he’s inside of you, Sanji pretty much always has his hands firmly on your hips, though he’ll sometimes have one free to trail down your back or to gently stimulate your breasts.

●Speaking of Sanji’s hands, one of he easiest ways to get him turned on (apart from like… existing) is to put his fingers in your mouth. Especially when you look up at him with wide, pleading eyes while you do it. Like the man will be hard in an instant.

●Expect Sanji to give you a lot of neck kisses, because he loves them. He also likes to give you a hickey or two so everyone knows that you’re his, and when he sees any of the marks he left on you when you’re in public, it drives him absolutely insane.

●He’s both excellent at and greatly enjoys eating you out. Like he could do it all day every day, whether he’s on his knees in front of you, between your legs in bed, or has you sitting on his face. He definitely moans while he’s doing it, and has probably cum at least once just from hearing the way you beg and moan for him while he’s going down on you.

●When it comes to sex positions, Sanji is happy to do whatever brings you the most pleasure, but if it came to picking his own favourite it would have to be when you ride him. There’s just so many wonderful things about it - it allows you to control the speed and intensity so you can prove how much you want him, the way your breasts move while you bounce on his cock, the perfect view it gives of your face when it’s contorted in pleasure…

●Sanji also likes to take you from behind, but only when you’re sat up with your back pressed against his chest with his strong arms wrapped firmly around you. He’ll have his lips pressed up against your ear, whispering dirty things to you and occasionally gently nibbling on your earlobe.

●Of course, with Sanji being the amazing chef he is, you can’t go wrong with a little bit of foodplay. He loves to cover areas of your body with whipped cream before slowly and sensually licking it off. You do the same to him sometimes, though things often escalate quicker during those times because you don’t have the same amount of self-control that he does.

●There’s definitely been times while you’re in the kitchen together while Sanji’s testing out a new dessert recipe, and he offers you a taste. You reject the spoon and end up licking batter off his fingers, which leads to him getting turned on… and then you have sex on the kitchen counter.

●Sanji absolutely loves it when you get all desperate and beg for him. Sometimes he’ll tell you to beg for him if you want him to continue, but nothing turns him on more than when you start begging for him without any prompting.

●He’s soooo sweet after sex, like he’ll cuddle you and pepper kisses all over your face and neck while he tells you how wonderful you were. He’ll stay with you as long as you want, and will be happy to run you a bath if you want one.

[ponderingmoonlight]

Chapter 2: Reluctant Allies

Pairing: Gojo x fem! reader

Warnings: language, domestic violence, thank y'all for sharing your experience with me, it helped me so much understanding childhood trauma and made me transform it into this fic <3

<- Previous Chapter l Next Chapter ->

„I heard about your failures, (y/n).”

Your mouth reacts faster than your mind.

“Maybe I’d do better if you get me away from that ass school”, you mutter more to yourself than your father.

A brutal slap sends you straight back to reality and your heart into your throat. Fuck, you’re not talking to Gojo Satoru here, your time at Jujutsu High didn’t do you any favour apparently. The man in front of you wearing that dark blue kimono is none other than your father. Or better said, the man who is responsible for your lousy existence on this planet.

Being a father is a wide stretch for that monster.

“Watch how you talk to me, (y/n). I sent you to Jujutsu High in order to become better than that Gojo brat, so that you bring honor to the Zenin clan. But all you accomplished this far is a grade 2”, he hisses through gritted teeth.

The stinging smell of sake sticks to his presence like glue and makes your guts turn almost instantly. When will this madness finally stop? What on earth are you supposed to do when Gojo Satoru is the honoured one? You studied the way he fights over and over, tried to gain as much information as possible regarding his abilities. But still…

“The only way to get better than him is to kill him”, you press out.

“Maybe you’re simply not strong enough, (y/n). I told you right from the start you can’t surpass me, even though you’re older than me-”

“I’m your twin sister, you fucking fool”, you spit at the other man who emerges from the shadows like the frightful little monster he is.

Since the day you were born, you held a strong dislike for Naoya and how he was worshipped in contrast to the way they treated you. The genius, the youngest, the most promising of Nabito’s children who left you standing in the rain, who forced you into Jujutsu High. If there’s a reason apart from the fact that you are a Zenin for your miserable life, it’s him.

Him, who’s now standing in front of you like a statue with a shit-eating grin plastered on his usual so cold features.

“And still, you are the weakest out of this whole clan. I could wipe you from the surface of earth without even blinking, so watch how you talk to me, brat.”

You know all too well that his words aren’t true. No, you trained your ass off these last months, surpassed your classmates by miles. The teachers at Jujutsu High told you over and over how special you are, that you are stronger than any jujutsu sorcerer these last decades. If it wasn’t for him…

Fucking Gojo Satoru. If they wouldn’t constantly compare you to him, they’d begin to see how well you do, that you are just as capable as Naoya is. But instead, they forced a task on you you’ll never be able to achieve. How on earth are you supposed to be better than the honoured one? You clench your hands into fists so tight that blood spills and lift yourself off the ground, cheek hurting like hell. No, no matter how unimaginable the task is, you have to do it, you have to prove them wrong. Even if it means that you need to beat him, even if it means you are forced to spend even more time with that douchebag.

You will beat Gojo Satoru, no matter what it costs. 

“Just watch me surpass you then, Naoya.”

“I can’t wait to see you try, loser.”

-back at Jujutsu High-

“Wait a minute, what the fuck is he doing here?”

All you wanted to do was going to the training field and running your heart out when Masamichi Yaga stopped you mid-way. Your heart is still pounding roughly against your ribcage in sheer anger, cheek hurting like hell from the well-timed slap your father gave you earlier this day. And now there’s him, Gojo Satoru, sitting on a chair with his long legs stretched out onto the table in front of him and Geto rolling his eyes.

Well, seeing that dumb smirk on that idiot’s face definitely makes you wish to be back at the Zenin’s estate though.

“Would you sit down before causing a scene, (y/n)?”, your teacher mutters while squeezing the bridge of his nose in sheer annoyance.

You snort to yourself while crossing the room, carefully avoiding those devilish blue orbs like a plague on the way to the free seat next to Geto. To be honest, you never allowed yourself a feeling similar to affection when it came to your comrades. No matter how many times Yu brought you sweets, no matter how often Geto trained with you. The second a spark of feelings other than disinterest and anger ascends, you do anything in your power to trample it to death. No, in your world, there is no place for stupid things like that.

Not even Geto’s charming smile can change this.

“I’m sat. Now tell me why that douchebag is breathing the same air as me.”

“Douchebag? I hope you’re not talking about me, disgusting (y/n).”

Gojo’s sing-sang voice stings in your ear, annoys you straight to your already troubled core. God, how are you supposed to avoid him when you get forced together by that cursed school every single time? You have already seen him twice this week, way too much for even a month.

“Why can’t you just shut up once, Gojo scum?”

“You calling me a scum when your family is out there murdering? Look at your pathetic self, (y/n). Your cheek wasn’t bruised when I saw you yesterday. What happened, huh? Daddy must have been pretty upset with your dumbass as it seems. I know you went on a little family trip this morning, looks like it was definitely worth it. Send your father my kindest regards.”

Something inside you snaps. Before Geto is able to get a hold of your trembling body, you get off your chair and yank Gojo’s puny figure towards the ground, eyes locked with his dirty gaze. Oh, that asshole knows exactly what buttons he has to press in order to send you over the edge, he knows exactly that your family will always be your weak spot.

And Gojo Satoru definitely has no problem with using that knowledge to destroy you from the inside out.

“Do you really think you can hurt me with your words? Don’t you think I’m used to hearing stuff like this after years of living with that family?”, you suddenly press out.

For a split second, Satoru’s eyes widen in surprise. That look on your face, it reminds him of the day when he met you, when you heard your nanny’s voice shouting after you. A spark of…

Pain. Despair. Anger.

 It wasn’t a secret to anyone how badly members of the Zenin clan were treated by their own family. Fuck, after all he always witnessed those fresh bruises decorating your body when you came back from a trip home. How many times Geto told him to not talk about your family, to not stress you any further when you returned from your family. It was in his nature to make fun of you. You’re a Zenin, right? The worst enemy of the Gojo clan, right?

But for the first time since his childhood, a gleam of sorrow sparks up his usual so cold heart when it comes to you. He really feels…sorry.

Until your eyes get as cold as before. Until his mind snaps back to reality with a shake of his head, back into the word where you pin him against the ground, ready to beat the shit out of him.

“Cry about it.”

The words escape his lips automatically, trained on mocking you at any given opportunity since he was a child.

Without saying another word, you lift yourself off the ground and press him down with your foot one last time before Geto finally gets a hold of you and drags you backwards. Oh, you are so used to his cruel words that they don’t even hurt you anymore. No, instead a numb feeling takes over your chest, drags the wave of emotions that ran over you away. You rip your gaze away from him and return to your seat, wordlessly staring at the teacher in front of you.

“So, what’s the point of this pity party?”, you question.

“I have a mission for you.”

“A mission for me?”, you repeat in sheer disbelief.

Oh, this feeling crawling up your spine makes your guts turn. Normally, getting called in like this and being assigned with an important mission is the best that can happen. After all, a lot of these missions lead to you ranking up to a grade 2. But being in the same room as him…

Your eyes drift over Gojo ever so slightly, catching the way he already stares at you with wiggling eyebrows.

“A mission for all of you”, the man standing in front of you clarifies.

Fuck. You don’t even care about the way he explains the mission, how Geto scolds Gojo for not listening and making dumb jokes. No, all you can do is stare at him in sheer horror. Him, the honoured one sitting only one seat away from you. All this time you were forced into going on missions with others, but luckily it was never him. Somehow you always managed to stay with Yu or Geto. Fuck, why not Nanami? You were supposed to stay away from him, to get better than him. But instead you’ll have to work with him by your side? Him, Gojo Satoru?

“Ain’t no way I’m going with that white ferret by my side.”

You’re already jumping out of your seat, ready to leave the room without looking back. Fuck that mission, fuck the potential of getting better. Nothing is worth spending one or even more days together with that douchebag.

“Even if it means getting ranked as grade 1 if you’re successful?”

Wait…what? Your ears perk up, eyes darting towards the tall man standing in front of you with his arms crossed over his chest. Is he serious about that? Getting ranked as a grade 1 would surely benefit you in your goal, especially since Naoya and your father are special grade 1 sorcerers… You’ve been here for a few weeks, already ranked up to a grade 2. It would bring honor to your family if you achieved getting ranked up just below the special grade so rapidly.

And this would mean you’re finally gaining a tiny bit of freedom, a tiny bit of the appreciation you fucking deserve.

“Come on, (y/n). I will keep an eye on him. We’ll get it done together.”

There it is again, the oh so charismatic smile of the black-haired man next to you. Is this really worth it? Your mind wanders back and forth, head almost exploding underneath the pressure. If you decline an important mission like this, your father will beat the shit out of you. But on the other hand, he’ll punish you as well as soon as he finds out that you purposely spend time with Gojo Satoru. Still…

Your nails dig into your thighs, head lowered. This is the best chance you get in order to become a special grade and beat that douchebag sooner or later.

“Only under one condition.”

All pairs of eyes are set on you as thick silence hangs in the room. You raise your head again proudly, the deadly gleam in your eyes making even Gojo stop in his tracks.

“What is it?”

“Don’t you dare to talk to me, let alone get in my way, Gojo scum”, you hiss through gritted teeth.

“Oh dear Zenin brat”, the white-haired boy sighs, casually lying back in his chair.

“Don’t you dare to cry for my help, then.”

Tags: @whereismysane @risuola @colouringfrogssittinginleaves @livmarauder @sapphireandange @madaqueue @chilichopsticks @sugurulefttesticle @boba-is-a-soup @jennapancake @kentocalls @mrshlf @byakuya61085

[mixes-archive]

Hello! Can you write some hcs of könig with a short chubby so? I don't mind if there nsfw or sfw thank you!

König x short & chubby reader HCs (SFW & NSFW)

A/N: say less.

SFW

Mans is WHOOPED the first time he laid eyes on you

I’m 100% sure I already said this in my chubby reader HCs, but he absolutely prefers bigger people

That said, your height, or lack thereof, just makes you much cuter in his eyes

Can and will carry you everywhere. Claims it’s because your tiny legs couldn’t possibly hold up with him, but he just does it to feel closer to you and low-key show you off to other people.

BRO DO NOT LET ME GET STARTED ON CUDDLES

König will hug you in the most awkward, and sometimes backbreaking, ways possible

I’m talking 90° bend so he can lean his face into the crook of your neck or tiddies if you have them

Regularly leans his arm on your head and just lets his whole body weight drop onto you

He’s a bit of a pain in the ass

But at the same time he does really sweet things

For example, if you had a struggle finding clothes that fit and suited you, he would regularly gift you handmade clothes tailored to your measurements and taste

He can’t sew for shit, but his Oma fucking loves you and just keeps making them for you (he’s a tiny bit jealous that he doesn’t get handmade clothes all the time too). She also coincidentally has the exact same measurements as you, so you’re in luck if you like 60s to 90s fashion (very hip grandmama)

Defends you with his life and pride

Would kill anyone making fun of you (only he is allowed to do that)

Please also make jokes about his height, he’ll giggle like a schoolgirl and maybe kick his feet while you both make jokes at each others expense back and forth

“Hey there, short stack” (lovingly)“Beat it, giraffe” (affectionately)

Would NEVER let you be insecure, König is constantly raving about how good you look/ how much he appreciates you as a person/ etc…

Please wear Tracht, it will make him love you 10x more

Loves giving you massages (when you ask why, he just says: “klein und weich” with a completely straight face)

When on missions, König will constantly complain about “wanting to go back to his pretty parter” and how much he misses holding them in his arms. It’s very annoying, but also kind of cute

NSFW - Minors DNI after this point

Whatever your sex is, he would give anything to be in between those thighs

Treats you like a porcelain doll during sex because of your height

At the same time tempted to go rough to watch your body jiggle

Absolutely mesmerizing and impressed when you ride him

He’s a little worried at first because he’s pretty big, but that quickly fades when he sees how gorgeous you are, so vulnerable and exposed to him

Just constantly praising you, he couldn’t degrade you even if you asked him to

Doesn’t matter what your gender is, tight thigh highs turn him on sm

Will fuck you then and there if he can

Never not facing you

Addicted to your face, expressions and body in general

König would even hold back if you told him to go rough on you, because he thinks you’re gonna break if he moves wrong

Absolutely holds you in the air while doing it to “prove a point”

“Do it jiggle tho?” Is absolutely him I can’t describe it any better

[dilfl0v3rss]

this was the eren and reiner fic with a the different ending. i felt like it wasn’t what y’all wanted so i changed it, but if you’re interested in reading it here it is🤷🏽‍♀️

caller blocked

“ian ready for no relationship.” the excuse of excuses. the words that were always thrown your way after you’d try to convince your little “fling” that you wanted to be more. eren stood up, zipping his pants before grabbing his hoodie and heading out your dorm room. your situation was…complicated. well not really. you grew very attached to this man, looking for him at parties, going to every single one of his games, giving him your notes so he wouldn’t fail and get kicked off the team, and letting him fuck you whenever he wanted.

you were practically dating. or that’s what you thought. eren seen you as just another pretty little thing to keep his grades up and his dick wet. using you constantly while labeling it at love to keep you coming back for more. “b-but why ren?” eren dropped his shoulders, sighing before he walked back to you and raised your chin with his fingers. “you know the rules pretty. cant be tied down worrying about a girl during the season. when all of this craziness is over then we can work sum out.”

a smile bloomed on your face as you looked at eren in complete adoration. you couldn’t wait for the season to end so you could finally be with the man you love. your friends seen you as a complete idiot, and they had no problem trying to shut down your delusions. “girl what don’t you get? as soon as the season ends he gon drop you like a bad habit.” “yea he’s lying to you baby.”

you shook your friend as your friends annie and sasha tried to speak some sense into you. “he wouldn’t do that to me. h-he lo-” “he doesn’t love you and m’gonna prove it.” before you could reply annie pulls out her phone, clicking historias instagram story to show you what she posted in her close friends. there eren was, laying his head on her stomach with his arms wrapped around her as the rest of his body laid snug between her legs. the caption reading ‘pussy put his ass to sleep🤣’.

your eyes instantly welled with tears as you watched eren, your eren be with someone else the same way he’d be with you. annie was contemplating telling you for awhile. hoping that you’d come to your senses on your own without having to get hurt, but she just couldn’t hold it in anymore. “why would he-” “because historias dumber than a bag of rocks and she doesn’t mind sucking and fucking a dick that’s been in half the campus.” sasha spit.

annie wiped your tears with a napkin from her purse before standing up with you on the quad bench. “fuck him furreal. there’s so many guys that have been tryna get at you, but you’ve been oblivious to them because of eren.” you nodded your head, acting as if you were agreeing but you were really heartbroken. the three of you said your goodbyes and you went back to your room. tears flooded your pillowcase as you thought about what you had just witnessed.

you were being played, but you weren’t about to just let it go. deciding that one day you’ll get your revenge, but right now you wanted nothing to do with him. weeks went by since you’ve last talked to eren. he wasn’t suspicious of it since he’d usually only talk to you when he needed something anyways. covering up his actions with “practice” to keep you from pestering him.

as annie said, a lot of guys have tried to get at you and instead of shooting them down like you usually did, you gave one a chance. you and reiner have gotten pretty close over the last few weeks. texting almost everyday, eating lunch together, and sharing your favorite books with each other in the library as you studied. he was sweet and charming.

always paying for your lunch no matter how many times you’ve tried to return the favor, walking you all the way to your dorm after a particularly late study sesh, and holding your hand when the two of you would cross the street. he mostly did that for his enjoyment, but you didn’t mind.

the two of you weren’t dating, but many people thought you were, given that one was barely seen without the other. “where’s your boo suge.” sasha would say when you finally hung out with your girls after three long weeks. “hush uppp. we just talking.” annie, sasha, and pieck busted out laughing before pieck leaked some information to you.

“girl you know we seen you getting your back blown out in the back of his jeep right?” your hands flew to your mouth as you gasped in shock. “yupp. saw him pulling your hair and allat right in our dorm parking lot.” sasha said as you covered your face in embarrassment before mumbling into your hands. “ooouuu yall so nosey i could strangle all three of you right now.” annie scoffed as she pulled your arms from your face.

“you think we’re dumb? you’ve been ditching us every chance you got. and when you do decide to finally hang out with us for a little, you come with a bunch hickies and a pimp walk.” all of you laughed at her last comment. rolling your eyes before checking your phone. speak of the devil.

rei🌻

‘got everything ready for movie night!’

‘waiting on you now mama💛’

you looked up from your phone, instantly getting pissed looks from your friends. “don’t even say nun. go be wit your man. enjoy it too because this weekend you all OURS. you hear me?” you giggled as you stood from your spot on sasha’s beanbag chair. “i hear youuu. love yallll!!” each of your friends replied with “love you toos” before you left to go spend time with reiner.

“aight i got nightmare on elm street and i got fri-” “princess and the frog” reiner chuckled as you looked up at him. sitting on his bed in nothing but his t shirt that you changed into as soon as you got there. “we watched that last time princess. you said you’d let me switch it up.” pink lip jutting out in a pout at he looked at you with sad eyes.

you laughed, watching this huge man with black ink dancing around his arms and chest being such a softy for you. his sweatpants hanging low on his hips as he situated himself under you on the bed. “okay then coco. i love un poco locoooo” a groan flew from his lips as he rolled his eyes at your choices. “no more disney. if i hear another song ima rip my ears off.”

the two of you ended up settling on john wick, but that didn’t really matter since it was thirty minutes into the movie where you found yourself plopping up and down on his thick dick. big veiny hand holding the back of your neck while his other arm was squeezing your ass. “how ya feeling princess.”

your moans flew directly into reiners ear as your hands gripped the pillow next to his head. “s-so good papa. real good.” his pace slowed as he started putting more of his inches into you. your hands flew to his hair, stroking and pulling his blonde crown with your eyes closed tightly. “that’s what i like to hear. love making my pretty girl feel good.” you were so out of it you didn’t even notice that reiners hand was no longer on your ass. instead he was texting your ex fling on your phone.

ren ren💚

‘yo. you up?’

he seen the name pop up and instantly got heated, knowing what he’s done to you. he grabbed the device without thinking as he made quick work to delete his number before replying.

you

‘yea what’s up?’

347-***-****

‘miss you mama🤧’

‘let me pull up on you’

‘the nerve of this guy’ reiner thought as a quick idea came up into his head. he quickened his strokes, laying the phone on the bed as the phone dialed erens number. “o-o-ooouuu rei you feel so good.” a smirk crept onto his face. “i feel good pretty girl?” you nodded your head, whining after you felt a hard slap to your ass. the sound bouncing off the walls as his one hand took up lots of space on your asscheek.

“use those words mama. like when you talk t’me.”

“y-you feel so g-good daddyyyy” reiner looked up at you in adoration before connecting his lips with yours in a sloppy kiss. smacking sounds ringing loud in the air as he practically devoured you. reiner glanced back at the phone to see that eren had hung up, a bunch of texts popping up as he scrolled through each of them.

347-***-****

‘wyd y/n?’

‘man you so lame for that fr’

‘how you just gon give my pussy away like that?’

‘he never gon be able to fuck you like i do’

‘cmon baby don’t pass up a relationship with me for braun…’

‘i swear i’ll never text historia again’

‘she could never amount to you ong baby’

‘baby?’

‘text me back y/n :(‘

‘at least still study with me…historia’s so dumb i’ll get kicked off the team fasho’

*caller blocked*

reiner threw your phone to the side before laying you on you your back. pulling out of you before moving his head towards your pussy. his pink lips wrapped around your clit before licking up and down your middle. “all mine right baby?” his green eyes met your brown ones. the two of you staring deeply into each other before you nodded you head slowly.

“all yours”

[sunshine-and-moonshine]

Tall Girl Lovin

Requested: Yes! [Hiya!! Just found your posts and I love them so much👀👀 Could I request a fem tall s/o for the 141 boys + König? S/O being as tall/ taller than them (slightly shorter with König) and giving them so much love. Thank you!]

Warnings: Fem!Reader, Implications of nsfw but mostly just fluffy

A/N: @katdakat , I bestow upon you, tall Reader

Price

Price is probably the least affected by your height. Man deals with giants on a regular basis, his S/O being one doesn’t really mean anything. He does enjoy the perks of it though. Like how when you hug him, his face is directly in your cleavage. 10/10 would recommend other men to get themselves a tall Gf just for that alone. But if that is not enough to convince them then he will list other benefits, such as the wonderful feeling of getting to be the small spoon and the delightful feeling that provides when your partner is taller then you and just encompasses your body, making you feel so safe and warm.

Gaz

Gaz loves your height. Doesn’t matter if you’re an inch taller or almost a foot taller, he’s drooling over you. He’s always had a bit of a size kink when it comes to taller people. And god bless him if you ever wear heels cause he’ll feel like he’s gonna pass out from all the blood rushing to his face and *ahem* other places. So yeah, he’s in love and he thinks you’re a fucking goddess.

Ghost

Ghost loves size differences. Bigger or smaller never mattered to him but each side has their own advantages. For the taller side, there is the fact that he just feels…a bit protected. Safe almost. Especially at night when you curl yourself around him. It’s the only thing that helps him get to sleep anymore. Or when you’re standing behind him and he can see your shadow encompassing his. It’s strangely nice for him.

Soap

This man. THIS MAN. He thinks he’s so funny. He will walk up to you at random times of the day and just heave you into his arms, grinning like a mad man as he just starts running with you through the halls. He loves to prove that no matter how tall you are, he’s still strong as hell and will use that strength to treat you like the Queen that he sees you as. If you protest then he’ll stop but not without being pouty, tugging at your shirt, begging you to bend down so he can at least sucker some more kisses out of you.

Alejandro

He’s not opposed to climbing you like a tree. It’s certainly the first thing that he thinks of when he first meets you, a big grin on his face, already making up his mind that he wants to seduce you. Seduction did make way for more romantic feelings and thoughts of you under him made way for thoughts of holding you close as you stooped down to kiss him. His favorite thing to do is shift your shirt down a bit so he can kiss your cleavage, something he adores doing since he’s at perfect titty height and he knows it.

König

Oh!!!!! König is pleasantly surprised when he meets you. Not many people enter his height range so it’s always nice when he does get to meet someone who is like him. It makes him feel a bit less freakish as well, a feeling that constantly plagued him since he’s almost always the tallest person in the room by a long shot. And he’s even more pleased when you start dating! Not only does it just work well logistically with someone near his own height, but he gets to experience pleasant things like surprise kisses and hair ruffling now. Something not really possible when he’d have to bend over for most everyone else to do so. He loves it. Loves you!!!!