#all of the automatic lights flicked on | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

gamermattsgf · 2 months

Text

Teddy bear // breeding Matt

Warnings: major breeding kink / lowkey dad Matt / creampie / fingering / female stimulation / established relationship / spit kink / hair pulling / classic missionary position / major praise kink / cum kink / unprotected sex (pls don’t do this) / slight male stimulation / mommy kink (sort of?)

Summary: after a visit to see your neighbour Darrel’s new born baby girl, Matt is so in awe of her that he decides to exercise an age old kink he has on you later that night.

Author’s notes: FINALLY. This one’s been highly anticipated for a while now so I hope you all enjoy reading about my favourite kink to pair with Matt in the whole entire world. Obviously it’s not for everyone, so if u don’t like this kind of thing just don’t read it and politely move along... but, BABIES. Plus yes, the reader is on the pill for heavens sake!! Wrap it before you tap it people. (Also happy early birthday to my sweet @asturniolos this one is for you baby girl ;)).

“But lately you’ve been feeling so good, I forget my future, never pull out” - Prom, SZA

‘Oh- my god’ Matt squeaks with his mouth parted slightly and a twinkle in his eye as soon as your neighbour’s baby girl is dropped into his awaiting arms. The pastel pink blanket swaddled around her squirming body falls gently over Matt’s cradling hand, he automatically starts to bounce her.

‘Hi little girl’ he tucks his chin into his neck and mumbles gently down to the sleeping girl that smacks her lips with her eyelashes feathered. She wriggles about in her sleep, her little mittened fingers tiredly stretching up and then falling to tuck back into the warmth of her blanket.

This almost makes Matt swoon. He struggles to hide his peep of delight at the baby’s action, his smile splitting his cheeks whilst his eyes quickly flick down to yours.

You smile happily up at him, knowing how long he had been waiting to see your neighbour Darrel’s newborn. As soon as you told him Darrel’s wife had birthed a healthy baby girl he had constantly been pestering and poking you to take him to go and see her.

He had been talking about it all morning and as soon as you two had entered the threshold of Darrel’s house he had been practically bouncing off of the ceilings to have a go at holding her.

‘So I take it Lily didn’t disappoint your expectations then?’ Darrel chuckles whilst Matt slowly rocks the blanketed baby from side to side, looking at her with an adoration that only comes from a man that wants one of his own. He then repositions her within the nest of his arms so that he can lift one of his hands up to poke his pointer finger out.

‘Ahw she’s so small’ he coos in disbelief.

Softly feathering his fingertip against Lily’s little appled cheek, he traces it around her soft skin, tickling her face until her nose scrunches and she opens her mouth to babble sleepily.

‘Isn’t she just’ Darrell sighs.

Matt felt as though he could just melt into a puddle of pink joyful goo, he never wants to let go of the small child, he’s in too much admiration over how little she is.

The tiny pink shells of her lips, her soft head of blonde hair, and her whispy little eyelashes. All of these features make him subtly glance back down to you, his sweetly mature girlfriend. He bites his lips at the ‘what if?’ possibilities he fantasises in his head.

It’s almost concerning how easy it is for Matt to imagine Lily as his own baby girl gently balanced within his protective arms like a smooth little pebble worth treasuring. He utterly adores her as he stands in his white sweater and grey beanie, the weight in his arms as light as a feather.

When a person wants something, it’s easy to tell, because when you look at what you want there always seems to be this sharp tug in your gut that lets you know how desperately you want it.

Well… Matt’s heart squeezes, and his gut contorts at yet again another action of the sweet baby girl within his arms mumbling and then tilting her head to the side so that she can snuggle further back into the blanket surrounding her.

Matt really fucking wanted a baby.

‘She really is’ you decide to chime into the conversation, agreeing with an awestruck Matt that looks as though he’s on the verge of tears because of how cute Lily is. You know that Matt absolutely adores children, so the sight alone of his sunny beam down at Lily’s chubby face makes your posterior soften. You blush at the look of him effortlessly cradling the baby within his arms before subtly squeezing your thighs together and biting your lip.

Fuck. This shouldn’t make you throb in between your legs as much as it does.

‘Oh that reminds me, Matt and I thought it would be nice to buy Lily a little welcome home present…’ you begin again, trying to distract yourself by catching Darrel’s attention. You lean over from your position on the couch to riffle around in your bag, until you find what you’re looking for. ‘Ah, here it is!’ you mumble triumphantly and wrap your fingers around the soft furry body of the little teddy bear Matt had insisted on buying for Lily.

‘Can we please get her a teddy’ he had begged you the day before, with sparkling eyes and a pout that you just couldn’t refuse.

So you had both gone down the stuffed animal isle of a store and Matt had let you pick out a small brown bear with beady black eyes and a button nose before taking it with him and happily going off to pay for it whilst instructing you to go and wait for him in the car.

Later that day you had wanted to personalise it and so decided to go to the dollar store and pick up a roll of pink ribbon, cutting off a strip and tying it around one of the teddy’s arms into a sweet little bow.

Your smile only increases the more you pull it out of the bag because of just how adorable it is. You had been itching to give it to Darrel for a while now.

As soon as he realises what it is, his eyes soften. ‘Oh goodness, you two didn’t have to do that, it’s lovely…’ he gushes, reaching out to take the teddy bear from your offering palms, to which Matt can’t help but crack a smile at your pretty face.

He cuts into Darrel’s rambling to put him at ease. ‘It’s alright- we wanted to do this for you guys, Lily deserves all of the teddies in the world! Don’t you honey?’ He affirms, before cheesing as he looks down at Lily to speak to her in a high-pitched babied voice, the kind of voice you would use when speaking to a puppy.

‘Really. It’s very nice of you, I’m sure Lily will love it… might have to wait till she gets a bit bigger to actually understand what it is though…’ Darrel cracks a joke, and both you and Matt laugh fondly. However, the vibrations in Matt’s chest manage to wake Lily up, and she opens her big doe eyes sleepily to look up at Matt in confusion.

This catches Matt’s attention and he gazes down at her, admiring the glassiness of her irises before gently shushing her and rocking her back to sleep.

‘Well what d’ya know Matt… you’re a natural, mind babysitting with your girlfriend every once in a while? Could use the help’

Both you and Matt make excited eye contact, not much persuasion needed to take special care of the tiny little angel lying in Matt’s arms.

‘We wouldn’t mind at all Darrel…’

You and Matt have been quietly laying in bed for a while now, one of his bedside lamps twinkling on a low setting as he sleepily rests his head on top of yours. He spoons you, his warm chest cozy and his bigger arms cocooning you into him further as his massive palms splay about either side of your ribcage. He gently strokes the pads of his thumbs over your dewy skin and occasionally will press a lazy but affirming kiss to your temple before groaning and settling back down again.

You have your eyes closed, fully relaxed as Matt threads his haired legs in between your smoothened ones, his bearded face scratching your cheek every single time he squirms around ever so slightly to reposition himself.

The room is silent aside from the subtle squeaks of his springy mattress underneath his weight and each of your gentle breaths mingling with one another.

Suddenly Matt’s chest expands, and he heaves a deepened sigh, his cheeks reddening shyly at the thought he conjures up in his mind. He’s suddenly really quite horny, and the quietness within the room prompts him to start thinking about the hold he currently has over your body, and what he could be doing to it instead.

The atmosphere in the room turns hot, and Matt almost starts to overheat because his cheeks burn so much. He swallows thickly and allows his mind to wander, electrical pulses making their way down his lower half and tightening up his pants.

You of course, are oblivious to this sudden change in mood.

That is, until Matt starts to feather one of his stroking hands down your torso ever so slightly. It tickles, and his hand raises goosebumps wherever it touches, especially when his pinkie subtly nestles its way into the top of your panties, dipping downward before pulling back out and snapping the elastic waistband onto your skin suggestively. You catch on to this and furrow your brows with playful suspiciousness.

‘Matt… what are you doing?’ You muse cheekily, already clearly know what his intentions are because now you can feel his prick, its thickness hard and needy for you as it presses into your backside.

Matt doesn’t answer, instead lets out a shaky breath and simply leans his scratchy face back into your cheek to press a spongy kiss onto the now pink skin.

As he does this, the hand down at your core sensually slides over your underwear.

Matt bites his lip as he feels warm dampness already emanating from your centre when sliding two of his fingers down into the cushion of your thighs.

He touches you, slowly, teasingly, rubbing the pads of his fingers in a circular motion as he presses them into your clothed clit. This makes your folds ache, and you hiss, arching your back away from him. But Matt grunts at this and still manages to keep his torturous hand all over you, his other arm tightening around your torso and hauling you back to him aggressively.

‘Shhh, you stay put now angel’ he hushes, mumbling into your skin as you whine meekly, one of your hands coming up to squeeze the arm that is slithered around your chest whilst the other one grapples to grip onto something below Matt’s silky brown sheets. That thing you yearn to grab onto just so happens to end up being Matt’s thigh, that is clothed in his red pyjama bottoms.

You squeeze his strong muscle and feed your bottom lip into your mouth to bite it.

You then feel his smirk on your cheek as his hand begins the horrifying descent back upwards. This time, it slips underneath your underwear. ‘If you can’t hand my fingers I dread to think of how much of a mess I’m gonna make of you with my cock…’

Your breath hitches as two of his fingers slide right down your sticky slit, gathering up as much wetness as he can before stretching out your hole. This time instead of hissing, you let out a breathy moan.

‘What? Not got anything to say back to me baby?’ He taunts you when you refuse to even think about trying to formulate a proper sentence after the soft curl of his fingers around your velveteen walls. He strokes them at a languid pace.

Matt sighs when all you do is breathe heavily, ‘you’re so soft around my fingers honey… gonna feel so fucking nice around my cock too, aren’t you?’.

Your toes curl at Matt’s sweetened praise, his worship of your physicality smelling like strong vanilla scented candles and melting over your body like a dollop of sugary ice cream.

Matt loves to praise you, you’re always so good for him, and he would spend hours with his head in between your thighs just to show you how much he loved you if he could.

Kiss after kiss, his tongue layering up your dripping centre as he forces his fingers into your mouth to swallow how loud you’re being with his eyes constantly trained on just how euphoric he’s making you feel.

‘Fuck- y-yes Matt, m’always ready for you…’

You finally muster the words to express how you’re feeling, and they tumble from your mouth like a broken melody, the result of them making Matt grin even harder. He’s feeling especially bold tonight, the memory of bouncing Lily on his hip still fresh in his mind and prompting him to relay his fantasy freely onto your awaiting figure.

Suddenly, he’s sliding his fingers out of their teasing hold over your sopping wet cunt, before moving away from you and rolling you onto your back.

Matt hungrily licks away at his fingers whilst doing this, wanting to taste you whilst you’re at your freshest and untainted by him.

The sight before him makes his prick drip with precome, sticky white fluid uncontrollably seeping from out of his tip as soon as he catches how pink and alive you look. It wets his underwear and almost makes him shiver, the thought of devouring you right then and there.

Sliding your shirt up for himself, he peers down at your tits to see that your nipples have already hardened just for him, the cooler air helping with their stiffness. Matt’s mouth waters at the sight of them.

‘Hmm, holding that baby today really got me thinking about how pretty you’d look with one of mine…’ he breathlessly mumbles, dipping his head down to suck on your bottom lip. His hands soon after slip up to cup just beneath your tits that pebble and ache to be coated in his spit.

You utter a quick whine of approval back at him, your own hands trailing up his goose-bumped flesh to touch the soft scruffiness of the hair on the back of his head.

He smirks at your responsive nature. ‘Yeah? Want me to give you my babies? Fucking fill you up and keep my cock in there n’breed you?’.

Matt’s cock throbs at even the thought of this, the thought of rutting his hips into you so fast that you start to drool with your tits shaking and your back arching for his cum. The cum that he’s going to have you absolutely swollen with by the end of the night. He doesn’t want a single drip leaking out of your hole, he’ll cockwarm you if he has to, simply to hold it in there with his own slickness.

‘Please Matt… you can- you can do whatever you want to me’ you shamelessly plead, the heat between your thighs juicing up and wetting your panties, already readying you for him. He smirks at this, his pretty blue eyes twinkling as he gives your mouth one more sloppy kiss before moving downward.

‘Fucking gorgeous’ his mouth muffles upon contact of your tits as soon as he decides to take one of them into his mouth and wetly kiss on it ‘gorgeous tits… all for me yeah? All mine?’ He questions possessively, one of his hands curling around your spare breast and squeezing it wholeheartedly.

‘All yours Matt- all fucking yours’ you reply in a breathless stupor, liking the way he sucks your tit and gently rolls around your nipple with his hot tongue.

‘These tits gonna be for my baby hm?’ He questions patronisingly after pulling away from your now sticky skin, a couple of purpling marks bruising to the surface of your delicate flesh where his mouth just hadn’t been able to help itself.

Your back arches and you hum a whine in agreement, vigorously nodding your head before letting Matt roll you two around so that now your thighs are gently straddling him and he is leaning against the headboard of his bed, the silk sheets underneath you two making him slump downwards a little.

‘Wanna make you a mommy so bad… would you do that for me? Take all of my cum and keep it? I want you to be selfish with it baby…want you to be greedy for more of it’.

It’s no secret that Matt has a smooth tongue. You two spend hours rolling around in the sheets, playing with each other as he makes sure to utilise it in whatever way he possibly can. But, for some reason his words have been hitting extremely different tonight. As though he has flipped a switch and pulled out all of the stops to lay it on extra thick.

Clearly, that time with you and Lily earlier had affected him in the most filthiest of ways.

Matt has shared words of breeding you before, but never to this extent, and you hate to admit it, but fuck does it soak you more than usual. Maybe just both of you being around the baby this morning makes it all seem extra real as he starts to roll your hips into a grinding motion over his bulge, but whatever it is, it’s working.

Both of you hold blushing eye contact as Matt does this, his mouth hung open and his eyes dilated. Fuck. You can physically feel the throbbing heartbeat sitting from in between his legs as he harshly grinds you over himself and releases raggedy whimpers into the air. You can tell he’s pent up, he needs you terribly, he wants you selfishly. He would fucking die for a feel of your walls sucking against his naked skin, it’s all he’s ever yearning for.

‘I want your cum Matt… please- please give it to me’ you freely beg, your head tilted down to look at him as the heated atmosphere boils in between the two of you. Your tits quickly become a focal point of interest for him before you get up off of his lap to speedily take off your slick underwear.

You toss them somewhere into Matt’s room and hear the fabric hit the floor gently. Matt gazes at your frantic figure with some form of satisfaction, his smugness evident due to the way you had absolutely begged for his cum.

He tilts his head and observes the way you clamber back onto his thighs, your hair all tussled and your skin lighting up with honeyed brilliance in the warm lamp light, casting beautiful contours all over your tits.

‘There’s a good girl’ he quips, before giving in to your expectant hands that wander alongside the waistband of his pyjamas. He simply cannot resist your puppyish eyes that stare at him to take them off. He lifts his hips up and feeds one of his hands into both his pants and underwear that teasingly travel downwards at a slow pace.

After Matt’s cock springs free, it careens back to hit his stomach and leave a wet dribble of precum near his dark snail trail. His tip is red and the veins popping over his thickness almost hurt to look at.

You swallow and start to shyly edge your way forwards, but not before leaning over to look inside of his bedside drawer. Your attention is focused on trying to rifle around Matt’s things, but he only has eyes for you, and can’t help but quickly lift his hand up to his lip line so that he can spit a thick dollop of saliva onto it.

He spreads it all over his cock and whimpers a little at how sensitive he feels whilst your hand skirts over the outline of his car keys, his rings, his wallet… until you find exactly what you’re looking for. Selecting a foil wrapper out of the drawer you messily close it once again with your chest heaving and a dewy layer of perspiration coating it.

Your weepy centre stings now, because it hasn’t been touched for a while, and you can’t squeeze your thighs together for traction because you’re currently straddling Matt’s.

You hand him the condom wrapper and he closes it within his thumb and pointer finger, before looking down at it in contemplation. After taking about 3 seconds of silence, he looks back up at you with a smirk, your hands already propped up on his shoulders for support.

You watch in horny silence as Matt effortlessly chucks the condom away. ‘We’re not gonna need one of those’ he quips as the wrapper patters gently to the mattress, now completely forgotten about in favour of Matt wanting to feel everything.

You didn’t think it was even possible to get wetter in attraction, but you were wrong.

Butterflies press against your gut as one of Matt’s hands slither up to the back of your neck. His fingertips thread into your locks and he gets a firm hold over the roots of your hair before dragging you down to have your lips on his once again.

He forces his tongue into your mouth, his desperation present with every stuttering moan he takes as he somehow manages to push you onto your back, his torso toppling over yours to change the power dynamic between the two of you once more. His fluffed hair is ruffled and bushy, his beard dark and prickly as it scrapes against the skin of your face with every twist of his tongue.

‘Always so pretty when you’re wet for me sweetheart, want my baby to have your eyes’ he mumbles through every clash of your teeth, kissing you so vigorously that sometimes he has to bite and pull on your bottom lip. He drinks you like he’s desperate for water, and you’re the only cold spring around- not that you complain though.

These thoughts only make your back arch up into his stomach, your core beyond desperate to be stretched out by him now.

‘Matt… please touch me baby- m’so sore’ you cry up into his lips, meekly pleading for him to comply and give you what you need.

And he does. Pulling away he smirks at you before trailing his nose down your jaw and focussing his kisses onto your neck. He sucks on the supple flesh there, and as he does so, makes sure to grasp ahold of his prick so that he can paint it all the way over your pink clit.

The moment his head crowns through your folds is a moment of extreme pleasure, and Matt stops all of what he’s doing to possessively look down at your face whilst he slides himself inside of you.

You suck him in, and his hot skin cushions perfectly around you. He fucking loves stretching you out like this and listening to the way you let out mangled sounds of discomfort, it lets him know he’s big and it strokes his ego when you whine in pain because of how full you feel.

‘Shit… I’m never gonna get used to that…’ your voice shakes with your nose scrunching up sensitively, but Matt hushes you gently. ‘Shhh baby… I know, I know it hurts, but you’re being such a good girl, love when you let me know how nice and thick I am’.

You nod, trying to only pay attention to the way Matt soothingly strokes the backs of your thighs with his fingertips as he pushes himself deeper into your throbbing heat.

Matt makes sure to hitch them around his hips and hook your legs over his back so that the balls of your feet can brush against his ass, because it stretches your inner thighs out further.

Matt fucking lusts the colour your cheeks turn whenever he fucks you, especially on a day like today. He groans as an overwhelming amount of pleasure overcomes him.

Neither of you are lasting long for this, that he already knows.

‘Fuck- I’m never wearing a condom again with you. You feel too good wrapped around me like this’ he whimpers, and slowly begins to start up a grind. He adores the way your chin falls back in euphoria as he starts to move you on the mattress, your thighs twitching and your slick walls stroking perfectly against his stickiness.

Your eyes twinkle up at him, his words managing to almost melt you on the spot. It’s not long before he picks up the pace, his breathing rate increasing and becoming more of a breathless pant.

You almost drool at the speed of his frantic hips and can’t help but struggle a moan after every time you feel him press against your g-spot.

‘Fuck baby… if you’re not careful imma hide your birth control pills n’breed you properly. I’ll tie you up and keep you in here until I’ve fucked you enough to see that baby in your stomach’.

Matt is 100% serious at this statement. The feeling of not wearing a condom with you easily becomes one of his new favourite things as he gets drunk on the oxytocin it gifts him.

Tears almost stream from your waterline at the statement, your back now permanently arched and begging for his cum. It’s as if those words coated in pure filth just did it for you, because soon after they’re uttered and Matt reaches down to start playing with your clit, you feel an orgasm dawning over you.

It sparks and bubbles like an undulating wave that gets even stronger after every time it crashes against the walls of your gut. Your breath hitches.

‘Matt I- I think I’m gonna cum’ you struggle up to him, and Matt nods quickly, his mouth dropped open and his hips getting sloppier the more his skin erotically slaps against yours. ‘M-me too’ he stutters, his whole entire body drenched in the sweat of his efforts.

Your orgasm rattles from your stomach all the way to your ribcage, melting over your body like a psychedelic dream before you hear Matt also whimpering loudly into your ear. His forehead crashes down to hit against your collarbone and his arms shake as he too feels the phenomenal rush of his orgasm.

As he continually ruts his hips at a lazy pace, he makes sure to fill you up with all of his thick ropes of cum, the slimy hotness of it drenching both his cock and your walls with an ample amount. Finally, after feeling like he can go no more, his hips relax and slow to a stop.

Both of you pant tiredly as you trail one of your hands up to Matt’s head just so that you can appreciatively stroke it, his cock still comfortably stuffed inside of you.

As far as Matt’s concerned, he’s not moving it an inch because if he does, the cum still coated on it would come dripping out of your spent hole with part of it still strung onto his head and your folds like a string of saliva connected by two pairs of lips.

‘You keeping your cock in me?’ You muse to him sleepily, but with a tone of playfulness as you regain your breathing and stare up at Matt’s ceiling.

You can feel his gentle smile curling against your skin.

‘Wouldn’t want to get our cum all over my bedsheets now would we?’ He responds in just as playful a manner.

‘No, we wouldn’t…’.

Author’s notes p.2: yayyyyy I’m baaaack. I thoroughly apologise for not keeping up with my one smut every weekend schedule but I literally had no time to write last week, it was crazy. However, I’m grateful that I’ve finally finished this one because I’ve been so fucking excited to share it with you, plus people have been dying for it for so long… good to keep the tension building you guys, some slow burn action for you all hehe. Someone tell me why the start of this one is so fucking cute tho?? That’s exactly how I imagine Matt would react with a baby in his close proximity and it makes me want to mother his children lol. Next up is racer Chris so look forward to that, plus ask and request what ever as always!!! Love you all my little cinnamon buns 💋 (Apologies if I miss anyone out on the taglist there’s so many of u now, if I’ve accidentally missed anyone out, pls re-comment on this post that u want to be on it and I’ll add u to my list :))

Taglist: @luverboychris @lovingmattysposts @luvmila444 @luv4kozume @stursweet @strniohoeee @strawberrysturniolo @thesturniolos @sturniolosreads @vecnasnose0 @meanttomeet @ellie-luvsfics @matthemunch @mattsleftnipple03 @robins-scoop @asturniolos @imwetforyourmom @nicksmainbitch @sturnioloenthusiast @breeloveschris @kvtie444 @rootbeerworshiper @chr1sgirl4life @hrt-attack @gigisworldsstuff @stargirlsturniololover @imlidewwallyhittingdagwiddy @sturniololoverr @jahlisa22 @bernardsgf @luvasr @meg-sturniolo @blahbel668 @liz-stxrn @sturnreblog @ratatioulle @isabellehoran @1800chokedathoe @sturnsmadl @sturniolossmut @creamoncreamoncream2 @mattswifey00 @sturniolowhore @skadltmf @sturniolosstar @luvsturns @mattestrella @hearts4chriss @orangeypepsi

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

2K notes · View notes

nereidprinc3ss · 4 months

Text

relax

in which spencer helps university student reader de-stress after a particularly exhausting assignment

18+ (smut) warnings: fingering, overstimulation, happy crying, lowkey softdom spencer, slight d/s dynamics, reader is referred to as a girl, ????idk i've never had to tag for smut before lols wc: 2624 a/n: been doing some insane literary cooking. lots of smut AND more fluff in the works (all uni reader... lol... ). idk if i love this but again need to fucking get it out of my word doc so here u go, PLEASE lmk if you like it!!

You don’t even realize the room has gone completely dark until Spencer comes in the front door and flicks on the light.

“Why did you do that?” you snap immediately, looking up from your laptop screen for the first time in potentially hours, blinking hard as your eyes painfully adjust. Your boyfriend gives you an odd look.

“Hello to you too...”

“I’m sorry. Hi. How was dinner?”

“It was good,” he says, crossing the room to the couch that has been your entire world for the past five hours. You sigh, releasing some of the tension in your shoulders when he leans down to kiss your head and set down a to-go box on the coffee table. “Have you moved since I left?”

“...no,” you admit, moving your eyes dejectedly to the keyboard.

“You made progress,” he appeases, leaning over you to angle the laptop upward. Immediately you wrench it away, holding it protectively against your chest.

“Stop! I don’t want you to read it yet!”

“I could help you with it though,” he pleads, bracing a hand on the arm of the couch. You look up into his hazel eyes, where he’s definitely playing up the puppy dog factor. His tie brushes your stomach, and he smells like lavender and clove and--

“You need to go away,” you realize, snapping back to reality and shrinking into the couch, away from him—trying to escape his all-encompassing sensory presence.

“Wh- I just got back!” he scoffs, straightening.

“You’re distracting me,” you accuse, throwing him a baleful look.

“I’m literally offering to help you.”

“And I’m respectfully declining because I care too much about your opinion to show you this essay until it’s less terrible. I really just need a couple more hours to finish it, please?”

Spencer sighs, regarding your pitiful state before moving to sit down next to you. Automatically you move your legs out of the way before settling them in his lap and damn it he’s supposed to be going away. Your iron grip on the laptop involuntarily loosens a little as his hands begin to run back and forth over your legs. No—you must stay focused.

“Spencer,” you whine, flopping your head back. You let the implied complaint hang in the air.

“You’ve been writing all day. Your brain is exhausted, and your synapses aren’t firing at a rate that is intellectually productive.”

“What is the point of having a brain if I can’t even use it half the time!” you almost-shout, pressing the palms of your hands into your eyes until you see fireworks.

The couch shifts and you feel the warm, robotic weight of the laptop unpin you as Spencer lifts it from your lap. “Don’t read it,” you beg, watching through parted fingers as he sets it on the coffee table, and relaxing slightly when he settles back into the couch.

“Come here,” he says, holding out an arm. Too mentally exhausted to do anything but comply, you pull yourself up just enough to fall into him. Immediately he wraps his arms around you, one hand slipping under your shirt to rub your back in hypnotizing passes. “I think you burnt yourself out,” he mutters.

You nod into his shoulder, surrendering yourself to his warmth, letting yourself sink into a lavender-clove fog, wanting nothing more than to dissolve into it. The darkness behind your eyes glows an inviting amber, threatening to pull you under...

But the essay...

“Stop thinking about the essay,” he demands.

“But I have so much to do,” you sigh against his jacket, the words coming out muffled.

“The best thing you can do now is give your brain a rest. I promise you you’re not making that paper any better if you’re exhausted.”

“I am not exhausted,” you insist, although your eyes are still closed, “I’m just really stressed.”

Spencer hums, continuing to rub your back.

“Do you need me to help you relax?” he says innocently.

Oh?

One of your eyes opens to peer up at him suspiciously. He sweeps some of your hair out of your face.

“Because I would be happy to.” A moment passes—him looking down at you fondly; you wondering if you’re picking up what he’s putting down.

“And how would you go about doing that?” you ask suspiciously.

“Orgasms reduce tension and stress and improve brain function.”

Damn. Why did the nerdiest, most un-sexy pickup line ever just turn you on?

You groan, burying your face further into his shirt—mostly to hide any trace of a blush.

“You know what else would reduce stress and improve brain functioning? Taking an Adderall and finishing my fucking essay.”

“Angel, you're such a smart girl, and you are fully capable of doing whatever you set your mind to—but I will lock your laptop in my gun safe before I let you look at that essay again tonight.” He speaks so softly, and his fingers are still gently combing through your messy hair... all in all, you put up a good fight, right? Maybe you should just listen to him...

“... fine.” you say eventually, reluctant to give in too quickly even though the idea quickly has filled your stomach with butterflies.

“Fine?” he says, pausing his motions as you turn your head just enough to look up at him. “Sounds like you don’t really want it, baby. Maybe we should just go to sleep. Or I could take you back to your-”

“Spence,” you whine, gently grabbing the front of his shirt. Now he’s going to make you beg? As if it wasn’t his idea? Those puppy dog eyes of his are deceiving.

“You’re gonna have to do better than that,” he sighs, hand moving from your hair to your outer thigh.

“Please?” you whisper, dignity forgotten as you look up at him imploringly.

“Lean back, sweet girl,” he says, helping you adjust your position til you’re lying against his chest, legs sprawled across the couch. Your head lolls on his shoulder, intoxicated by his close proximity. “Perfect. Such a good listener.”

Normally, you’d be quick to make a defensive remark, but with the way he’s slowly hiking your shirt up, running his hands over your sides so lightly it gives you goosebumps—you're really in no position to argue. Your eyes flutter shut as his hands grow bolder in their explorations, crossing your stomach, fingers just slipping under the waistband of your shorts and skimming over your hipbones before coming back up.

“Does that feel good?” he murmurs, and you nod lazily, apparently losing access to your language facilities after running them dry all day. Unfortunately, that doesn’t seem good enough for your boyfriend. “Do you remember when the last time I touched you like this was?”

Through the hazy blur of your exhaustion, you try to think back. Was it... two days ago? Three? More?

“Almost a week ago,” he supplies the answer for you when you take too long. What? That can’t be right.

But when you think about it harder... it is right. It was right before finals week started.

An errant hand straying up your torso distracts you. “Do you remember what I did?”

You flush.

“You... yeah,” is the best you can offer, too flustered to say exactly what he did to your body. That stray hand moves over your breast. Your back arches just slightly at the stimulation through the thin fabric of your bra.

Thankfully, he lets you off the hook.

“I made you cum three times, right?”

“Mhm,” you hum through closed lips, tense with anticipation as he finally slides both hands down to your shorts and wordlessly directs you to lift your hips so he can pull them all the way off along with your underwear.

“You’ve been so busy lately, huh. Working so hard.”

You unconsciously drop your bent legs open, brain too foggy to be insecure about how utterly bare you are—allowing him to slowly rub up and down your inner thigh.

“I’m gonna make you feel good, honey. I don’t think three times was enough for such a stressful week.”

You gasp when his fingers finally brush your clit, whimpering slightly when they just barely skim your entrance before tracing the wetness back up.

“Give me your hand,” Spencer says, taking his own from between your legs and holding it up. You don’t even think about it, releasing your grip on the arm he now has wrapped around you and holding it out for him. At this point, you’d do anything he tells you to without hesitation.

He takes the proffered hand, gently guiding it back between your legs. Your fingers meet slick, soft warmth. “Do you feel how wet you are?”

“Yeah,” you breathe, seeing how your fingers glisten when you pull them away. His remain, running slowly up and down your clit. Your brain seems to be vibrating in your skull as warmth spreads throughout your body.

“Who’s that for?”

“You, Spencer,” you whimper. He hums in approval before the room falls into silence as you both watch his teasing intently, your breath baited as you try to be patient. But your body isn’t with the program, you keep twisting slightly, your hips cant upward. “Please, please,” the words escape on a held exhalation as you finally break, arching your back against him as your search for more friction.

Without warning, he sinks two fingers inside you. The slight stretch after not having taken anything in a week scratches an itch you didn’t even know you had, and you let out a broken moan.

“I know, honey. You’re so good, I know.” Spencer kisses your head as he speaks over your cry, barely moving his fingers for a few moments while you get comfortable.

Still you’re not ready for it when he withdraws and pushes back in.

“Look at that,” he breathes.

“Oh, fuck,” you choke, watching how your arousal completely coats his fingers as he slowly, slowly begins to fuck you with them.

Again you feel the vibrations in his chest as he laughs slightly—probably at your earlier insistence that you didn’t desperately want this. The laughter fades as you both become entranced by the sight of his fingers disappearing into you, and your stomach twists with pleasure. His pace remains languid, and he seems to delight in the filthy, wet sounds his hand is producing between your legs.

“You okay, baby?” he asks after a moment, seemingly snapping out of some trance.

“Uh huh,” you whimper. One particular drag of his fingers at just the right angle has you dizzy, and then he’s speeding up. Your jaw drops at the change in pace and your hips chase his hand, wanting even more.

“So pretty,” he mutters as his other hand moves to spread you open.

You attempt to shut your legs around his wrist, but instead he just ruts his fingers deeper into you, palm pressed against your clit. You attempt to twist away from the extreme stimulation, but he doesn’t allow it.

“Too much,” you squeak, bucking your hips inadvertently.

“No it’s not,” he states, like you’re talking about the weather.

“Spencer, I really c- ah- can't!”

“It feels like a lot, huh?” he asks soothingly, not letting up one bit.

“Yes!” you cry, eyes stinging as tears begin to well.

“You’re okay, angel. It’s just been a while.”

You are so completely fucked. Each stroke of his hand feels like an electric jolt through your whole body. It is too much, but at the same time, pleasure is pooling deep in your stomach and at the base of your spine and you never want him to stop. You throw your head back onto Spencer’s shoulder, eyes screwed shut.

“Relax,” he mutters, carefully bearing down the pressure across your waist with his arm to try and keep you from squirming.

A rhythmic whine breaks through the barrier of your sealed lips as you focus all your energy into taking it, when the all-consuming need to kiss him hits you. You twist your neck to look up at him, observing the furrow of his brow and the way he’s tucked his bottom lip into a bite. Thankfully he notices your movement—his eyes dart from your own half-lidded gaze to your lips and he understands what you want.

The kiss is messy and the angle is awkward and you’re moaning into his mouth half the time anyway, but it feels so good to have his lips moving on yours that you don’t care about any of it.

“I—ah,” you cry into him, unable to form a coherent thought as your stomach drops like you’re mounting the peak of a roller coaster.

His fingers again change their angle and he finds the spot inside you that makes your legs spasm. Attempting to hold in whatever noises you were making is now futile—the whimpers and pants turn to full-fledged keening moans interspersed with taut silences as you fail to breathe properly.

Your wrench your gaze and lips away from Spencer to watch through a blurry haze the rapid movement of his hand between your bare legs, the way your hips buck and twist and the way your leg bends as he hooks his free hand under your knee and hoists it toward your chest.

“You’re doing so well, honey. Being so good for me.”

Moisture spills over from your eyes, tracing down your cheeks and down your neck as you begin to come with no warning and a desperate, broken cry.

A string of praise from Spencer underscores your pleading moans, but you can’t focus on anything other than the buzzing warmth emanating from your core, the bright, pulsing white that blinds you and the feeling of stardust flowing through your veins.

Your boyfriend continues pumping his fingers slowly in and out of you for a blissful few moments, before sensing the tail-end of your orgasm and bringing his fingers up to rub lazy circles over your clit. Aftershocks resonate from the hypersensitive area and make you clamp your legs shut around his hand as your toes curl and you attempt to squirm out of his grip.

“Done! I’m done,” you squeak, rocking your hips back and forth to try and escape his toying.

“Okay, okay,” he soothes, relieving the pressure of his hand between your legs and moving it to run over your stomach as you come down.

You lie in silence for a minute, enjoying the liquid sensation weighing down your muscles and basking in the warm afterglow of your orgasm.

“Shit,” you breathe shakily after a moment. Spencer chuckles. You manage to turn yourself over, laying your cheek on his shoulder and slipping your arms under his waist. He looks down at you as he moves on to massaging your back and bare hips, eyes full of warm adoration.

“Feel better?”

You hum an affirmation, wiping your eyes on his shirt.

“Oh, honey, did I make you cry?”

You laugh into his chest and nod, a few stray tears leaking from your shut eyes. “It’s okay. Not sad tears.”

“What kind of tears?”

“Orgasm tears,” you mumble, a tidal wave of exhaustion you’d been fighting all day finally washing over you.

“That makes sense. Orgasms can be cathartic or even therapeutic depending on your head space. Major losses and life changes are often associated with sexual dysfunction but the opposite is actually just as if not more common. A spike in libido can—”

Spencer pauses, looking down to see that you’re either asleep or close to it, and smiles to himself. You’ll probably be mad about it when you wake up, but he had to get you to stop thinking about that paper somehow.

#criminal minds #spencer reid #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid fic #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid x fem!reader #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x self insert #spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid x you #spencer reid smut #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid fanfiction #criminal minds smut #criminal minds x reader #criminal minds fanfiction #criminal minds fic #criminal minds fanfic #criminal minds imagine

2K notes · View notes

peachesofteal · 2 months

Text

Ghost/Soap/female reader 18+ mdni - dark content Running from Simon at the bar because he’s the scary man who wants to pick his teeth with your finger bones… only to find an angel waiting in the wings.

Your second martini is stronger than the first.

You’re not sure how it’s even possible, considering the contents of a martini is mostly just alcohol, but it stings a little sharper on your first swallow, and you eye the skewer of olives skeptically.

Oh well.

More bang for your buck, you suppose. Better to get the job done faster, and cheaper, than the alternative.

The bar is bustling, and you watch it all from the corner you’re tucked into. Coeds from across the city pack like tinned fish against one another, yelling and breathing in each other’s faces, loud laughter and boisterous conversations bouncing off the walls. Cigarette smoke cloys, orange-red ends flickering in the low light of the evening, blazing bright before they’re snuffed out and replaced.

Your phone buzzes with a text, ten minutes late, and surprise is few and far between when you read that your activities for tonight have now evaporated, plans cancelled with a simple six-word sentence.

Sorry, I can’t make it now.

Asshole.

The vodka is stiff on your lips. Your tongue seeks the rim of your glass, flicking at a leftover drop of olive and alcohol, vermouth herbaceous in the back of your mouth.

“Seat taken?” A gruff, rough dipped voice calls over your shoulder, gesturing to one of the only bar stools left in the building, and you answer without looking up.

“All yours.”

“Thanks love.” The pet name straightens your spine, and you sneak a glance, eyeing the bulk settling at your side. “Usin’ that?” He points at the ashtray, thick finger alone in the air, and you shake your head.

He meets your eyes head on as you turn to look at him, curiosity burning a hole in your brain, and good sense has your stomach tightening into a pit.

A five-alarm fire rages, gusts of wind and pockets of brush fueling it’s spread, encouraging it to burn far and wide inside you until it consumes everything in its path.

Danger, it shrieks. Run.

The man’s face is scarred. His nose is crooked. His eyes are dark. He’s a hell baptized image of Ares, a gladiator, a solider. A monster of men.

And he stares at you like he knows you.

It’s unnerving enough to set you adrift, free falling through the possibilities.

It’s danger, but so much more. So much worse. He transcends lethality, strength and bloodlust shining in his expression, a dark beacon lighting the way home. Pine and cigarette smoke, drifting in the stale air.

Just finish your drink and tab out. Leave.

“Out by yourself tonight?” You blink at the croon in his voice, serrated tip of a knife dripping with honey, and answer automatically.

“No.” It’s a lie of course, but you were raised with good self-preservation instincts. You’ve been a girl alone in a bar before, on a train, in an Uber. You know how to tilt the table, load the dice. Pretend you’re with someone, or on the phone, or have someone waiting for you. Lie and pretend. Make it believable.

The flick of a lighter draws your attention, and he extends a fresh smoke towards you. An olive branch. A trick.

“Want one?�� You twist your face into the most disgusted mask manageable, and he chuckles. “Suit yourself. I’m Simon, by the way.” Lie. You give him something tugged from thin air, something you’re not going to remember in ten minutes time.

The bartender comes by, and you’re both grateful for the reprieve, and a chance to close out. Until-

“An’ another one of those.” He points at the glass, your eyes going round, cold sweat breaking out across the back of your neck.

“Oh. No, that’s-“

“C’mon. One won’t kill ya.” You should tell him it would, it might. Should get loud. More insistent.

All the rebuttal evaporates when his shoulder shoves against yours, effectively pinning you between the bar top and the wall, heavy thigh bleeding heat against your exposed leg. Your too short dress is now a colossal mistake, and you curse your date for bailing, and yourself for believing he’d even show up in the first place.

The man, Simon, makes a show of looking around, head on a swivel, roving over the crowd before turning back you with a glint. He knows. He knows you’re not here with anyone. “So, who’d you get all pretty for tonight then?” Smoke rolls from his lips, and the lump in the back of your throat is so thick, it tries to choke you.

“My- my date.”

“Where are they?”

“Not here.” You grit each word, glaring. It only earns you another smile, eyes crinkling in the corner, a shark sniffing blood in the water.

“Poor thing. An’ your dress is so nice, too. Little short, but… that’s alright. You didn’t know.” He takes a swig of his drink, neat bourbon, room temperature gasoline, and your mouth dries up.

Didn’t know what?

The subtle alarm bells ringing in the back of your head become nuclear sirens.

The martini sweats on the bar top, leaving a wet ring around the base of the glass. Your stomach sours. “Thank you, for the drink, but-“

“Drink it.” You haven’t looked away from it, you think, know it hasn’t been tampered with… yet the idea of doing something this stranger, this man asks, terrifies you.

“I uh…”

“Don’t wanna be rude, do ya pet?” Fuck. You survey the room, looking for anyone who has noticed you, who has observed this interaction, who has realized what’s happening in this little dark corner.

No one pays you a lick of attention. If they do, they spot the hulking mass of a man at your elbow and avert their eyes immediately. A few glance back in disbelief, like they recognize him somehow, or know him, before pointedly looking away.

You’re all but invisible.

Everything flows around you like water. You’re a rock beneath the surface, affecting a swell, an eddyline, and yet, no one knows. No one can see.

You swallow half the drink in one gulp, hope and prayer on the wind.

He’ll leave you alone, once you bore him. Once he realizes he won’t get anything out of you, he’ll move onto someone else. Someone more interesting.

“How is it?” His leg presses harder on yours, a quadricep like cement halting you effectually, securing your immobility against him with a simple movement.

He’ll pick you clean, and then pick his teeth with your bones.

“Fine.”

“Jus’ fine, eh?” His jaw flexes, and a split second of confusing emotion controls you, forcing new words from your mouth in a desperate attempt to appease.

“It’s… good. It’s good.” Ice layers across the top of it, and you take another sip for the show, half smile painted on loosely.

You have to get out of here. You have to go now.

“If you’ll excuse me…” you flex, trying to stand, but he shakes his head.

“Where you off to?” Your neck snaps back, indignant, and then you raise your voice over the din, too loud to be considered casual, fingers gripping the edge of your seat until your knuckles hurt.

“I have to use the bathroom.” Eyes half lidded, he traces you from head to toe before nodding, turning back to his drink almost as if he’s uninterested, grim line of his mouth twisting into a smile and settling around the end of his cigarette.

Once you’re in the hall, you take a left to the emergency exit, not a right, spilling out the back and into star studded night, gasping for air so cold it shocks your lungs.

“Whoa, hey there.” An accent croons, and you turn in a panic, palms out. “Easy, easy bonnie. What’s got ye all upset?” Your entire body flags with relief, a rip cord pulled against your sense and judgement. The man, the Scottish man, seems friendly, seems kind, wide blue eyes alarmed and worried, brows creased gently as he helps keep you upright.

“S-sorry. Sorry, I just… I just had… the weirdest-“ It doesn’t make sense, to try to explain, and nothing sounds right coming off your tongue, so you flail, and he tries to comfort you.

“Shhh, ye’re alright now. Just breathe.” His palm is firm against your side, and you shake your head, trying to put words to the madness brewing at your back inside the bar.

“There was a man, and he-“ The streetlamps flare, burning as bright as the sun, and you blink, grasping for your bearings. “He…”

“He what, bonnie?” His voice is distorted, and the arm at your side now creeps around your back. “What’s wrong?” Your adrenaline surges, leaving your head throbbing, and nausea claws it way up the back of your throat.

“N-nothing, I…” You’re fuzzy. Everything out of balance, and you gasp for air.

The door behind you creaks open and slams closed, jolting you in the grip of the Scotsman.

“It’s alright.” He coos. You’re weak limbed, malleable in his hold, and he turns your face into his neck, rubbing your back, his chest vibrating with every syllable. “Just close your eyes.” He smells good, woodsmoke and juniper, pine and cigarettes, something familiar enough to prickle, far away awareness digging at the soft sinew in the front of your brain.

Pine and cigarettes. Pine… and cigarettes.

It’s the last thing your rational mind pieces together before you’re lost to the darkness.

#ghoap x reader #not edited so mind the mistakes #peach uses PET for the first time everyone #peaches writes #simon riley x reader #sorry had to get this out of the brain

843 notes · View notes

mariasont · 21 days

Text

Negotiating with Mr. H - pt. 2

a/n: part two to this

god im such a shluuuut for this man anyhow happy reading

‧₊˚ ✩°｡⋆♡ ⋆˙⟡♡ ⋆˙⟡♡⋆｡°✩˚₊‧

pairings: aaron hotchner x fem!nanny!reader

warnings: 18+ mdni, unprotected p in v (DONT DO THAT, boo tomatoes), use of sir and mr. hotchner in bed, dirty talk, pet names (good girl, sweetheart, honey, etc.), idk im terrible at warnings

wc: 2k

The hours had stretched into days since you all but threw yourself at Mr. Hotchner. The morning after unfolded with him dodging your company as if you were a wildfire, claiming a day at the zoo with Jack as a shield, yet you saw it as a deliberate distance he put between you. No sooner had they returned, the call for a case arrived. Typical.

But you found no room for embarrassment within yourself; you had played your hand, and he had been receptive, at least so you thought. If he had changed his mind, that was within his right; still, you wished he'd say something about it.

Your fingers tenderly combed through Jack's hair, the soft strands slipping between them, as you gently closed the book, careful not to wake him. He had a nightmare, but you soothed away the scary bits with 'The Very Hungry Caterpillar', as you coaxed him back to sleep. It was his go-to comfort read--and secretly, yours too. You eased your legs over the edge, each step a muted brush against the carpet. You flicked off the light, the soft thud of the book on the nightstand, and you stepped into the hallway--the door sealing behind you softly.

You moved with soft steps towards your room, hands outstretched as they found the doorknob, pushing it open with the slightest pressure. You froze mid-step, the distinct click of the front door's latch piercing the silence. Subconsciously, a plan formed in your mind, as if waiting for this cue. You made a beeline for the closet, fingers flying as you shimmied into your favorite panties and a cropped white long sleeve that highlighting your stiffening nipples. Listening intently for the sound of his footsteps, you slid under the sheets, the door left invitingly open, your legs peeking out as if by chance.

Was this wrong? Certainly, but the blood rushing to your cunt didn't care. You were acutely aware of each groan from the wooden steps under his weight as he made his way upstairs, and you could almost catch the hush of his breath as he lingered at Jack's room, the door's creak broadcasting his quiet check.

You snapped your eyes shut, the sound of his nearing steps triggering an automatic response. You knew he'd have to pass your room to get to his. Every sense tingled to life as his footsteps hesitated at your door. Even with your back facing him, you felt his eyes roam over you, his breath turning heavy, hanging in the air.

You exhaled a shaky breath, feeling it vibrate through the stillness as he continued on to his room. The urge to swear was heavy on your tongue, the realization dawning that your plan had left no impression on him. You turned restlessly, feeling the bite of your failed efforts. Yet, when you propped yourself up, there he was--Mr. Hotchner, standing motionless in the doorway.

"Oh, Mr. Hotchner! I--I didn't realize you were home. How was the case?" Your question floated on a note higher than usual, yet you made no move to hide your body from him, welcoming the observation.

"Really? You didn't hear me? I could have sworn I heard movement in your room as I came in," he remarked, his piercing gaze locking onto you as he casually propped himself against the frame of the door.

"Movement? Could've been the wind," you suggest, your smile bright and inviting, arms falling away to give him a full display of your hardened nipples through the thin fabric of your shirt.

His response is brief, a deliberate blink, a silent count to ten, before his gaze sharpens, a frown forming as he closes the distance between you, the door shutting behind him. "The wind, huh?" he echoed, "I've been neck-deep in a nightmare of case, and this is what I come home to?"

You maneuver closer, your legs now casually exposed as you perch on the bed's edge. "What's wrong, Mr. Hotchner? Don't appreciate the view?"

His presence fills the space by your bed. "The view," he begins, his eyes taking a leisurely journey from your exposed legs up to meet your gaze, "is more than agreeable."

You hand snakes out, catching the silk of that god damn tie, drawing him closer. "Well. Mr. Hotchner, aren't you going to do something about this agreeable view?" you challenge, eyes wide and expectant.

Assertively, he captures your chin, his thumb brushing your cheek. "You should know by now, I'm very much a man of action."

He leans down, a predator claiming his willing prey, and his mouth captures yours in a kiss that sends a surge of electricity through your veins, your fingers curling into the fabric of his suit as if the meld him into you. The way his lips were attached to yours sent shockwaves straight to your core, hands moving from his lapels to his hair.

"Didn't think you had it in you, Mr. Hotchn--," you mumbled against his mouth, but you were swiftly cut off as his teeth dug into your bottom lip.

"The next time you say my name, it's going to be when my cock is buried so deep inside you that you can't form anything else but that name."

And in that moment, you could've sworn you'd never felt desire until he said those words. He began to trail sloppy kisses up your neck, your head arching back, surrendering to the sweet attention he lavished upon the column of your throat. There was a quiet authority in his actions, as he parted your thighs, his fingers grazing closer to your clothed cunt as his other hand pushed you flat against the bed.

A gasp fluttered from your lips, a delicate sound of shock. You would've never pegged him to be like this in bed. So fucking demanding. Your thighs instinctively sought each other, but his large hand held them apart, keeping you open, vulnerable.

You looked up at him with doe eyes, wide and brimming with lust, and it reflected a beauty so intense he was sure it could halt time. He was sure he must've done something right in this life to be privileged enough to see you like this—so submissive despite your big talk, so eager to please. It sent a rush to every part of his body, specifically his cock which stretched against his dress pants, begging to be released.

He wanted to take his time, to worship your body in the way it deserved, but there was nothing slow or soft about his movements. His hands explored every inch of your body as if he'd been touch starved his whole life.

"Pl-Please, sir, please touch me," you begged, your hips bucking against the graze of his hands.

The word 'sir' triggered a slight twitch in his cock, his voice a throaty rumble. "Feel that? I'm touching you, honey," he teased, his touch a tantalizing drag against your skin, inching your shirt upward, a smug smile etched on his handsome face.

"You know what I mean," you insisted, your hand intertwining with his in a silent plea, guiding them to where you wanted.

"I can't read your mind, sweetheart," he chides softly, his touch retreating teasingly, "be a good girl and tell me where you want me to touch you."

Your mind was going blank, so desperate for him you could almost feel your arousal leaking down your thighs.

"Here?" he questioned, his hands coming to rest on your ankles as he propped them on the edge of the bed, leaving your legs spread wide in front of him. You shook your head in response, a whine leaving your lips, "or here," he said, his hands moving up to your thighs.

You wiggled in his grip. "Mmm, getting closer aren't I?" he taunted, "use your words pretty girl, tell me how to help."

"Mr. Hotchner, please, need you inside me," your words were more slurred than you intended, sitting up to lock your hands behind his neck, your breath fanning his.

"You don't need it, you want it," he corrected, his lips brushing the sensitive skin behind your ear, his arm a steady band across your back, pulling you closer. "However, lucky for you, I'm inclined to be generous."

His hands eased you back towards the bed, your hands fingering through his hair as he made quick work with your underwear before tapping your shirt. "Take this off honey."

Without hesitation, you complied, flinging it carelessly to the bed's opposite edge, shifting to prop yourself up on your elbows.

"God, you're so beautiful."

The words seemed to empty your lungs of air, your face turning a delicate shade of pink as you beamed at him, your smile sticky with sweetness. His fingers found your nipples, teasing and tugging as you let out soft little whimpers, arching into his touch.

"Feels so good, sir," you moaned, hands digging into the sheets, leaning towards him to close the distance between you two, your lips seeking his in a tender collision.

You could sense his mouth curve into a silent smirk against yours as his hands moved with unhurried intent to your swollen clit, eliciting an involuntary gasp from you as you writhed on the mattress. You could hear his other hand undoing his belt as his continued his leisurely movements against your cunt. In a smooth, practiced motion, he pulled out his cock from his pants.

Your mouth parted slightly at the length of it, and you had to fight off the urge to drool at the sight. Thankfully he didn't make you beg for it, sliding into you with an ease that made your head fall back against the mattress.

"Shit," he hissed, his hands finding a natural perch upon the gentle swell of your hips. "You're so wet, honey. How long have you wanted this? Hmm?"

"S-So long," you muttered, a moan pausing your sentence, "wanted you for so long."

"I know, pretty girl," he murmured, his words interlaced with the obscene sound of his length pounding in and out of your drenched pussy.

"Feels so good, Mr. Hotchner."

He let out a soft groan in response, his hands tangling through your hair. Your name rolled off his tongue as you clenched around him. He had to move his hands to the bed beside your head, trying to resist the urge to absolutely destroy you.

Your moans heightened with each thrust causing his hand to fly over your mouth, eyes rolling back to your head. "Need you to be quiet, honey. You can do that for me can't you?"

You nodded desperately against his palm, hands reaching out to close around his shoulders as you moved to meet his thrusts, the familiar coil beginning to wind in your core.

"I know you're close, sweetheart. Need you to hold on just a little longer."

He let out a breathy chuckle at your body's reaction, desperately bucking against him. Hotch revealed in the sound of your pussy squishing around him, so wet you're practically soaking his dress pants.

Your slur his name as he reaches between you, his thumb rubbing feverishly at your clit. "Go ahead, honey, cum for me."

His words were all you needed, gushing around his cock as he continued to fuck you through your high. He let out a strangled groan of his own, pumping you full of his cum. His large body slumped against yours, his head ducking into the crook of your neck as you both attempted to catch your breath.

He slowly lifted off of you, tucking his cock back into his pants as moved to grasp your ankle, rubbing comforting circles over the skin.

"Tell me, was that personal bonus sufficient for you?"

Your giggle, light and airy, filled the space as you gingerly lifted yourself, hands laying a gentle claim on his chest, your smile blooming across your lips. It was in this moment he knew he would do anything to keep you like this--content, utterly fucked and next time in his bed.

"Well, I can't say for sure, Mr. Hotchner," you admit, your kiss on his cheek lingering a moment longer. "I work really hard around here, maybe another round would satiate me."

"I don't know think anything would satiate you, honey."

"Maybe so, but isn't it tempting to see if something can?"

"Undoubtedly."

taglist: @mrs-ssa-hotch

#aaron hotchner x reader #aaron hotchner #criminal minds smut #aaron hotchner smut #aaron hotchner x fem!reader #aaron hotchenr imagine #aaron hotch x reader #hotch x reader #hotch #Spotify

585 notes · View notes

saiidahyunie · 1 month

Text

look here

myoui mina x f!reader

synopsis: a late night gaming distraction makes it a challenging level to beat.

warnings: smut ; mina recieving ; reader giving ; eating out under the desk ; sachae mentioned ; written in one take ; rushed ; not proofread

a/n: thanks to @inluvwithnay for the thought and the writers guild for feeding into my sub mina motivation :D

your mouth is filled with toothpaste, dragging your toothbrush in, out, and around the inside of your mouth while you walk down the hallway to an open room filled with laughter.

peering through from one side, you see mina behind three monitors, knees up on the chair while she finishes up her boba popsicle you handed her roughly about thirty minutes ago. crossing over to see a discord call with a strawberry and hamster pfp, you automatically knew that she has been gaming with chaeyoung and sana for a few hours now.

mina pulls the popsicle stick out of her mouth with a pout in her eyes, but they immediately soften when she sees you give her a small wave while sitting on the armrest of her chair, she wraps her arm around your waist while you see the camera from mina’s end.

“they’re saying hi to you.” mina says, nudging your waist to give a wave to the two girls, so you do.

“aren’t you gonna get off now?” you ask, putting all of the toothpaste on one side of your mouth to speak more clearly. “it’s getting late.”

“we’re gonna get off in about an hour or so.” she replies, hand now on the mouse scrolling through the texts and different programs of games figuring out what to play next. “here, i’ll put my mic on speaker so that sana and chae can talk to you.”

while she was doing that, you grab one of the empty cups at mina’s desk, spitting the toothpaste before placing the cup down for a quick second before the sound rips through the calm ambience of the fan in the room.

“y/n!! hiiiiii!” one of the voices in a sweet tone calls you through the screen.

“hi sana!” you reply, waving back to the webcam as the screen shows her and chaeyoung with their cameras. “i thought jeongie was gonna come play with you guys?”

“she’s backed up with work so we couldn’t play phasmophobia tonight.” chaeyoung replies, beaming a smile while you giggled, trying to help pick out a game for the girls to play. in a few short moments, sana brought up that she had to get some food and chaeyoung said that somi dropped by to drop something off to her. the both of them turned off their cameras and muted their mics, mina doing the same thing while stretching out from playing to hours on end.

you sit on mina’s lap, her head nestling on your chest while she catches the whiffs of the coconut conditioner you used while showering, speaking of—

“i missed you in the shower earlier,” you mutter, kissing the top of mina’s head while she hums into your oversized shirt. “that’s twice now in a week.”

“i know,” mina replies. “i’m sorry baby, it’s just that work has been so tough lately and i haven’t had time for myself.” she looks up at you, palming the side of her face and grazing her cheek with your thumb. you’re pouting along with her and you understood that mina needed to unwind.

“well,” you start before leaning down, giving a loving kiss, pulling away just a bit. “i’m gonna go ahead and sleep first. don’t keep me waiting for too long now, okay?”

mina hums, “mkay. i’ll see you there after.”

“have fun baby.”

“i will.”

you give mina one more kiss before grabbing the empty cup with your toothbrush before mina called out for one last thing.

“can you turn off the lights on your way out?”

you nod immediately, flicking the switch in the room to off while the hallway is filled with your fading steps.

—

mina didn’t even keep track of the time since you came into the room, but here she was playing minecraft with sana and chaeyoung, building up their treehouse when she glanced over to the clock on the bottom corner of her second monitor.

2:10. pretty late as it is.

the only thing that’s keeping mina awake was sana’s bubbly energy pooling through her headphones. that and the peach smoothie that you made for her before going to bed not long after.

she’s trying to help sana come up with a name for her ocelot that she just found somewhere in the jungle, when she hears you come into the room again, rubbing your eyes while mina set her headset around her neck.

“y/n, what are you doing here?” mina asks.

“couldn’t sleep…” you mumble, yawning while you set yourself on mina’s lap again, adjusting her sitting position as she continues to move her character in the game to keep up with sana and chaeyoung. the faint sounds of their voices blaring quietly through the headset.

mina catches the same whiff of coconut conditioner in your hair now added on with the lavender scent from the humidifier that was in the bedroom. she couldn’t help but take in the smell while you relaxed on top of mina’s lap. “you smell really good.”

“hm, do i?” you ask, and mina looks up at you. there was something about her being so cozy in her oversized hoodie with a gamer headset. you would find it hard to believe that this woman was the same person who waltzed into your life effortlessly when you asked for her number at a restaurant, but here she was, in your arms.

you lean down for a kiss, the tender feeling of her lips becoming instantly addicting the more you taste her. feeling her hand wrapped around your back while your hands are cupping your face, it’s impossible to stop once you start, and with mina, you never want things like these to end.

pulling away, you have the rational thought of stopping yourself getting lost with mina’s lips and body, but at the same time, there was this need for her that was burning inside you—and the way she looked so hypnotizing with her glazed eyes and parted lips, you need more of her.

“you should,” diving for another peck before retreating, “come to bed with me. right now.”

mina ponders on this for a second, “i’m almost done baby, then we can have our fun after.”

“i don’t think i made myself clear enough.” you sigh out, dismounting from mina’s lap and leaning across from her. “get off the game.”

“or what?” she challenges.

“or i do this.”

your hands are quick to slip under mina’s oversized hoodie, feeling that she nothing under, giving you free access while your lips are working her face, pulling and sucking while mina stifled a groan that could’ve been picked up in the mic, but she kept herself composed while you let yourself have fun.

trailing from her neck, your fingers reach the elastic of her pink shorts, pulling them down while you keep your gaze on mina, biting your lip as mina feels the heat rise up to her cheeks, tossing away the shorts from the desk under.

“y/n, fuck...” mina stutters, “w-what are you doing?”

“don’t worry about it sweetheart, just focus on the game.” you reply while parting mina’s luscious legs, trailing kisses upwards from her inner thigh, inching towards her aching cunt.

“but…t-the girls. they—”

“let them hear you darling, i know they’ll like the sound of me going down on you.”

mina’s fingers find the back of your head when you make that first contact of her pussy with your mouth, tongue laving and tasting the midnight snack you’ve been craving for a bit as mina tried to keep herself composed, putting back on the headset before continuing to play with sana and chaeyoung.

"mina you here with us?" chaeyoung asks through the headset, mina putting them back on instnatly while you rolled your eyes giving her pussy another lick.

“i-i’m here guys. d-don’t worry.”

“everything okay mina?” sana asks through the voice call, “we thought you left already.”

“no, i-i just, fuck- had to do something real quick. that’s all.” mina pants out, moving the character with her left hand on the keyboard, the other on your head as you slipped a finger inside her cunt.

mina hits the keybind that automatically mutes her mic for a second while she covers her mouth, the relentless assault of you eating her out from under her gaming setup, groaning out while she tries to press your face together with her legs, prolonging the sensation.

“i can’t belie–god! fuck, y/n—shit, just like that.”

pulling away for a bit, the bottom half of your face soaked while you licked your lips. “unmute your mic.”

“w-what?”

“unmute your mic. i wanna let them hear you cumming for me.”

mina has to follow, her mind fogging up from the pleasure—she can’t even think straight when you dip to fingers inside combined with your mouth on her clit. she’s biting her lip while you go down on mina again, the pace unraveling her from within as you’re sucking and swiping and humming and–

“y/n, i-i’m–so fucking close…”

“is the mic on?”

“y-yes.” mina barely gets out.

“good.”

there’s a loud whine, airy moan as you groan out in the rewarding. feeling mina’s walls clamp around your fingers and her head falling all the way back into her seat. it takes quite a bit for the both of you to recover, the scent of sex now filling up the air as you’re cleaning yourself up from mina’s mess—mina tasting herself off your lips when you get up and kiss her again, straddling her and taking off your shirt in the process.

“is that enough to convince you?”

mina lands a few expectant kisses over your cheek and chin—an indication that she wants more, and you aren’t complaining.

“forget turning off the game baby, let’s go.” you say, getting up from mina and pulling her by the hand into the bedroom.

(while that was happening, here’s what the headphones pick up from the vc:

“did y/n just fuck mina during the call?” - sana

“i think she did, and that was kinda hot for us to hear…” - chaeyoung)

#hyunie #twice x reader #kpop x reader #twice imagines #twice smut #twice fluff #kpop smut #kpop imagines #myoui mina x reader #mina x reader #myoui mina #gg smut

553 notes · View notes

risuola · 4 days

Text

▶ FAVOR — Satoru has always been unpredictable and straightforward, but even so, the favor he asked for surprised you.

contents: silly Satoru, college!au, roommates, suggestive, humorous (??), male anatomy in brief detail, reader discretion is advised — 0,9k words

a/n: ok, this part is... a little more into 18+ territory but still keeping it light and friendly between the trio. a crack if you will, let's all appreciate the stupid boy Satoru.

𝙇𝙊𝙑𝙀 𝙈𝙀𝘿𝙇𝙀𝙔 | series masterlist

“Question!”

The moment Satoru stepped into the room, you could tell from the look on his face — the typical mischief twisting his features into a caricature of innocence — that there’s something going on his mind that you may or may not want to know.

“Yes?” You encouraged carefully, flipping your eyes back onto the stack of papers in your hands. Notes, that you wished would transfer their contents onto your brain before you fail tomorrow’s test.

“I have the most random question– a favor, actually and you have to bear with me.”

“Hit me.” You were ready for–

“How many dicks you saw in your life?” –well, not that. “Real life, real dudes, that is. Not porn.”

You blinked.

Once, twice. The air seemed a little thicker than just a moment before and you shouldn’t be surprised. Satoru is unpredictable, he’s vibrant, he’s straight to the point most of the time, but that took you a moment.

“Can you repeat the question?”

“Dicks. Penises, cocks–“

“Yeah, okay, I got that.” You cut him quickly, abandoning the idea of studying and now paying him your entire attention. “You have to give me some context, Toru.”

“I’m curious if you girls have a preference? Speaking about aesthetics. Do you, like, judge the look of a dick?”

“Has anyone made you insecure about the look of your dick or what is it about?” You asked, confused, though confusion would be an understatement to describe the state of your mind now.

“I don’t know, no one said anything but, uh–“ Satoru began, shrugging nonchalantly, but there was a subtle uneasiness hidden underneath his lighthearted tone that you could spot with no mistake. “Every time I am with someone, they look at it as if they saw a ghost and most often it gets me down before the party begins, so it made me wonder.”

You put down the notes, abandoning the hopes and dreams about a good grade tomorrow and your fingers found their way to the bridge of your nose, pinching it — a typical gesture when you tried to collect your thoughts.

“I highly doubt any part of you could not be appealing, Toru. Even your feet are pretty—”

“Irrelevant. So, I’m asking do you have enough picture storage in your head to compare or do girls even pay attention to the looks of a dick?”

“Well, yeah, I guess? I mean, I received a fair share of unwanted dick picks, I’d say I know how a cock look like… But I don’t know, I think the judgement happens automatically,” you said, exhaling. “I think I saw once a very unimpressive dick. The rest was rather similar, I suppose—”

“What do you mean by unimpressive?”

“God, that’s embarrassing. It was my first partner, you probably don’t even know him, but the guy had at max two inches, which is fine as long as you can work with it, but he lasted less than ten seconds and on top of that he was hairy like a gorilla what probably took an entire inch off his length.”

“Wait, you had a hairy gorilla boyfriend and we don’t know about it?”

“It wasn’t my boyfriend, we didn’t even end up having sex. It doesn’t matter, okay?”

“We’ll get back to this, but now, dicks.” Satoru got closer and kneeled on the bed. “So, the favor. Can you be honest? Like, brutally, 100% honest?”

“Honest about wha— Wait, you want me to judge your dick?”

“Yeah?” He looked at you with the pleading expression in his blue eyes, his voice got whiny for a moment and you really wished to flick his forehead right now. “Please? No other girl will be as honest as you and Suguru is not really the respectable source of knowledge about the issue.”

“Christ, okay.”

You agreed.

You said okay, but for some reason it still shocked you when Satoru, instead of talking like he usually does, pulled his sweats down. Looking away was your first reaction. You felt like you shouldn’t be looking, but he literally just asked you to judge, so you slowly allowed your eyes to run down his body, leaving his handsome face and landing finally on the now free manhood, and oh boy, there was a lot to analyze.

The word pretty usually wouldn’t be your first choice when talking about penises. They were usually very similar, more often than not unimpressive and overall uninteresting, but Gojo… He was just that. Pretty. Incredibly long, and girthy too, covered in light skin with the baby pink head. He looked heavy, mouthwatering, like a dessert of sorts. The set of veins spread from below his stomach and wrapped around the shaft. He was mostly clean shaven, with just the tiniest happy trail of white hairs that against his light body was just barely visible.

“And?” He reminded you why you are even taking in the view. “Brutally honest, please.”

“You know what… I really, really hate giving a head, but that dick I’d suck for hours. It actually makes me salivate, you’re fucking pretty Satoru. I don’t get your concern,” you told him, finally looking away and getting your thoughts together, forcing them together. Why was it so hot all of the sudden? “If they look oddly, that’s probably because you’re fucking huge. Christ–”

“It makes you wanna give me a head?” He grinned, obviously catching onto the words you said when you weren’t thinking clearly.

“Hold your horses and pull those pants up. You have nothing to worry about, you’re gorgeous from head to toe, you idiot.”

taglist: @kibananya, @r0ckst4rjk, @rixo-19, @soraya-daydreams, @hyun0200, @ilykii, @roscpctals99, @mushkasstuff, @siimp4youu, @juicedcherry, @themoreeviltwin, @stevenknightmarc, @ms5m1th

353 notes · View notes

wicchyy · 4 months

Text

—0.6 touch me the right way, baby ; james potter

sum: you’ve never been touched the right way, and James helps with that / bestfriend!James

warnings: (smut) fingering, oral (fem receiving), some light dirty talk

You’ve been sighing incessantly for the whole hour, annoying your best friend, and not in a good way. James had called you over to hang by his dorm while he finished cleaning himself up, quidditch practice ended early.

“Look, sweetheart, you either tell me what’s wrong or I’m kicking you out.”

You looked up at him with an annoyed pout, “You won’t.”

“I certainly will.”

Your head dropped to James’ pillow with a loud huff, body colliding with the softness of his comforter. “It’s nothing.”

“Sure is something if it’s got you huffin’ like a little child.”

As James gets ready, the corner of your eye watches carefully while he does the steps of his night routine thoroughly. He’s already wearing a light sweater, but his lower half is still covered with a towel. James puts on all his necessary skincare before he’s finally grabbing a pair of boxers from his drawer. This is where you look a way, just in time to only see the sliver of skin on his back before your eyes are darting to the ceiling.

“You wouldn’t understand, Jamie, really.”

“Try me, sweetheart. I’m your best friend, sure I’d understand you.”

“It’s just—“ you cut yourself off, sitting up so you could make eye contact with James. “Promise you won’t be weirded out?”

“Mhm. Course.” He replied. James flicked his wand one time, then his towel was gone and the sheets on his bed perfectly done after the mess you’ve caused by laying on it.

He took the rest of the space you’ve cleared for him and took a sat down. James stretches out his legs, each one in between your own.

“I haven’t been … how do I say it, satisfied? In a while.” The moment you uttered the words, a light blush spread all over James’ cheeks. “Oh, see! I knew you’d be weirded out by it.”

He opened his mouth to reply but nothing came out. Truthfully, he was quite speechless not because he was weirded out. But because he’s already imagined different dirty scenarios with you more than he’d like to admit.

“No! I’m not weirded out, sweetheart. Definitely not, just … surprised, I guess.”

“Ugh. It’s just— everytime I try to hookup with someone, I just can’t … y’know?”

James turns even redder. This time, it’s a bit because of the jealousy his mind automatically goes to when he hears your words. “Look, honey. Honestly I think it’s just the guys? You— you’re perfectly … perfect. Maybe you’ve just been picking the wrong guys to hook up with.”

“And who are the right guys?”

Me. James wants to say. Me. I could have you coming in so many different ways you wouldn’t question yourself ever again.

“I— I dunno.”

“You?”

What? Did you actually just say those words aloud? James and even yourself can’t even believe it right now. You’ve never been so bold like that, definitely never flirting him up with something like it. James thinks that his heart could stop right this moment.

“I— .”

“Could you make me come, Jamie?” The way you’re asking, with your innocent smile and your beautiful lips just voicing the words out already has James’ cock hardening.

“Fuck, sweetheart. Is that a hypothetical question?” He tries to clear the nervousness out of his voice.

You bite your lips carefully, reaching for James’ hand resting on the bed. You gripped it and bought it closer to you, hovering over your clothed cunt. “Definitely not.”

The way you’re sitting right now, it makes your position with James even closer. Especially as you pull his body towards you, which he’s reciprocating very obediently.

“Do whatever you want to me” You whisper.

In a second, James is launching himself at you. He’s careful not to hurt you with his weight but hes immediately taking your hand as he guides you to a position he’s eager to settle in.

James leans against the headboard of his bed, desperately bringing you up on his lap. You’re straddling him as he looks up at you with lustful eyes.

Christ, he thinks. He’s been waiting for this moment for such a long fucking time that it feels like a dream right now. He has you atop him, you wearing his red and golden quidditch jersey, nothing but a pair of thin white shorts, and undoubtly another pair of thin panties underneath.

“Sweetheart, are you sure about this? I don’t— don’t think we can just be best fucking friends again after this.”

You take his hand and slide it under your clothed cunt, the warmth making all the blood rising to James’ cheeks. “I know, Jamie. Just touch me, please. Need you.”

“Baby .. y’so perfect like this. Like my girl.” He replies, breath stuffy like he can’t handle it anymore.

“Mhm.” You whined. You unconsciously grind down on the James’ open palm, spreading your wetness over your panties. “Always been your girl. Jamie, please, please. Touch me the right way.”

Your begging makes him finally taking action. He lifts up your body slightly like it weighs nothing, ordering you to take off the thin shorts, which you do almost instantly.

“So fucking wet, already. D’you always think about me when you’re touching this pussy?”

Fuck. He hasn’t even touched you properly but it already has you feeling a high. James moves your panties aside and immediately slips inside a finger, the wetness providing easy access. Your whines fill the room, good thing Remus and Sirius aren’t going to be here for a while.

“Feels s’good Jamie.”

He smirks just slightly, using his thumb to rub at your clit in circles. “I always love when y’call me that. You’ve no idea how much I got myself off in the shower thinking of you calling me that, sweetheart.”

His thumb rubs harder, while your hands move upwards to drag the hem of James’ Jersey upwards. You lift it up to show him your tits, making the boy even more hungry for more. You can feel James’ cock prodding at your entrance and the feeling adds up to your pleasure.

“Jamie … feels good.”

“I know, baby. Lift that top up, let me see your pretty tits.” He takes you through it gently, but quickly at the same time.

One of your hand holds the top up to showcase your body to James, and you used the other to gently massage one of your tits.

“Keep those eyes on me.” He orders. You obey, keeping eye contact as James works you through your orgasm. It takes you a few more minutes, and then he’s prodding two more fingers inside your wet hole, thumb still working wonders on your clit.

James has you begging, begging for more, begging for release. You’re absolutely melting in his arms. He lets you come and you’re immediately spilling all over his lower half. He takes your panties and covers your cunt again, making the come spill over and ruin your white panties.

“Fuck, I love that sight.” James says roughly, clearly too turned on after seeing you come so easily with his fingers.

“Jamie … want more, please please.”

“Course, baby. Lay back, let me have a taste, yeah?” He says as he adjusts his glasses up the bridge of his nose and running a hand through his hair.

That’s how he has you whining and moaning, desperately begging for a release. First James takes your panties off, then he licks it clean, then he works you up using his fingers, and finally he uses his tongue to bring you to your second orgasm. By the time he’s done, his glasses are fogged up from the heat of your hot cunt. And his hair is a just mess of curls as your fingers twist unrelentlessly at it.

He’s skillful with his tongue, teasing your clit and making sure to taste every inch of your cunt before he lets you come again.

After he has you coming again, this time dripping down to his clean sheets, James kisses your pussy lightly. “This is my new favourite thing, baby. Aside from your tits. Fuck, I love you so much.”

“I love y’too, Jamie.”

That line alone has James coming in his boxers.

💌 thanks for reading lovie! support me by reblogging <3

564 notes · View notes

httpsserene · 6 months

Text

𝐡𝐭𝐭𝐩𝐬𝐬𝐞𝐫𝐞𝐧𝐞'𝐬 𝐟𝟏 𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐤𝐭𝐨𝐛𝐞𝐫 𝐬𝐩𝐞𝐜𝐢𝐚𝐥

𝘂𝗽𝗹𝗼𝗮𝗱 𝟵: 𝗰𝗵𝗮𝗿𝗹𝗲𝘀 𝗹𝗲𝗰𝗹𝗲𝗿𝗰 𝘅 𝗿𝗲𝗮𝗱𝗲𝗿 | 𝗼𝗿𝗴𝗮𝘀𝗺 𝗱𝗲𝗹𝗮𝘆/𝗱𝗲𝗻𝗶𝗮𝗹

📖𝘀𝘂𝗺𝗺𝗮𝗿𝘆: the 2023 season has had a despicable effect on charles’ self-worth. it pains you to see how he attributes ferrari’s failure to deliver to himself. you can’t stand to see him berate himself for things that are out of his control. when the emilia-romagna grand prix is understandably canceled, you start forming a plan. if charles doesn’t believe he’s as good as you say he is, you’ll make him internalize it–using any means necessary. 📖𝗰𝗼𝗻𝘁𝗲𝗻𝘁 𝘄𝗮𝗿𝗻𝗶𝗻𝗴: 18+ only. explicit. orgasm delay/denial. handjobs. no penetrative sex. dom/sub undertones. sub!charles. mild praise kink. not beta read. orgasm control. charles’ self deprecation. 📖𝘄𝗼𝗿𝗱 𝗰𝗼𝘂𝗻𝘁: 1k words. 📖𝗽𝗮𝗶𝗿𝗶𝗻𝗴: charles leclerc x fem!black!reader 📖𝗴𝗲𝗻𝗿𝗲: drabble. 📖𝘀𝗼𝘂𝗻𝗱𝘁𝗿𝗮𝗰𝗸: get you daniel • caesar ft. kali uchis

𝗽𝗿𝗲𝗳𝗮𝗰𝗲: not going to lie to you, after charles told xavi “let’s talk after the race” in austin, this upload automatically came to mind. in my delusional mind this whole fic convinced him to finally speak up for himself, even though it wasn’t posted before that (he hacked into my google docs or smith idk). i love when men whimper. haha, lol, who said that. a small drabble to satiate my soft!charles urge. hope y’all enjoy !!!

do you want to be added to my general taglist? send me an ask!

cross-posted on my ao3, htppsss

to see what kinktober uploads have already been completed or to see what's coming next check my f1 kinktober masterlist ! for all of my works see my general masterlist!

your hand is dripping lube on charles’ thigh as you brush a featherlight touch of a finger on his cock. he’s been rock hard since you’ve pulled his clothes off, even though he complained that this is the worst idea you’ve ever had. his head is turned to the side, buried in the pillow, already muffling his whimpers at your barely there touch. the red flush of his cheeks is already spreading down his chest and you haven’t even started touching him properly; this may be easier than you thought.

you shift forward, situating yourself comfortably between his legs, and you speak quietly but firmly, “tell me when you’re close.” charles hums, nodding his head jerkily, and bucks his hips upwards searching for more friction. you laugh at his desperation and push his hips down with your free hand, pressing him firmly into the bed—he doesn’t attempt to fight your grasp. power rushes to your head; he’s completely capable of pushing you off him with little to no effort; and he’s lying beneath you willingly. you loosely wrap your fist around him, and slowly drag your hand up and down. the amount of pressure you’re applying is incredibly light, but charles reacts as if you’re roughly squeezing. his back arches off the bed, thighs twitching sensitively, and his hand flies down to grasp at your wrist.

you pinch his thigh in warning, a sharp gasp at the fleeting pain escapes his lips, and you chastise him gently, “hey, i thought you were going to be good for me? hands off—put them by your head.” he squirms at the sound of your disappointment, and in his haste to be perfect for you, he takes your command a step further. he places his hands above his head, and tangles them together—he strives to be good for you.

you stare at him, unmoving, and watch as his eyes flutter across your face desperately trying to read your emotions. his eyes are wet with unshed tears, and his tongue flicks out to wet his dry lips anxiously. you break, it’s so hard to be mean to him when he looks so pretty. resuming the sweet stroke of your hand, you keep you motions calm and controlled—you want his orgasm to come to him calmly. however, no matter how gently you handle him, it doesn’t seem like your preferred outcome will play out. charles’ abs flutter, undulating at the effort he’s using to refrain from pushing up into the wet grasp of your fist, and his nails are digging into hands. on your next upward stroke, you twist your hand around the head of his cock, and his shocked moan echoes around the room. his face flushes a deeper red, humiliated at how easy he is, and he whimpers at the smirk that rises to your lips. you pick up the pace immediately, and wrap your other hand around him at his base. you sync the twist of both your hands, and hyperfocus on teasing the head of his cock. you lightly press your thumb across his slit randomly forcing a pitchy squeal from him, sometimes you trace the underside vein with a nail and a pained whine is muffled into the pillow.

it’s mortifying—not even three minutes after you started touching him, and he’s going to cum. you see him struggle to fight the coiling knot in his tummy, it’s useless, this is another race he always loses. charles’ chest heaves with his stuttered, rushed breaths and he whines in shame, “s’il te plaît—‘m close—sorry, i can’t help it!”

you coo at him, pouting your lips at his apology, “oh, charlie, don’t feel bad. you’re supposed to be close” you rub the palm of your hand roughly across his sensitive tip, and his body tenses at the switch in treatment, eyes rolling back under the intense pleasure, and you confidently reassure him, “thank you for telling me you’re about to cum. you’re always my good boy.” and, you pull your hands away from him, ceasing all motions.

charles crumbles. he sobs forcefully at the feeling of his release being pulled from him at the last second, tears streaming down his face, no longer having the will to hold them back. he thrashes his head against the pillow, and pistons his hips upwards into the air like it will convince you to touch him again. he flexes his cramped hands before he pulls them down to hide his face from your view. you let the monegasque cry out his emotions, knowing that his tears are from the shock of you denying his orgasm rather than pain. he unintelligibly pleads in french, brokenly whining about how close he was, his mouth running uncontrollably. when his tears slow, and his shoulders stop shaking, you tenderly pull his hands away from his eyes, and whisper at him sweetly to open his eyes.

he opens his pretty green eyes, and you lean down gently pecking his lips a few times before you speak, “there’s something you forgot to tell me. if you wanted my permission to cum, baby.” charles drops his eyes away, refusing to meet your gaze.

“you were supposed to tell me how good you are,” you see his lips part as he rushes to do so, but you smack your teeth, silencing him before he begins, “not how you’re good for me, charles—how you’re a good driver. how you’re one of the best, most talented formula one pilots we’ve seen. how you’re ferrari’s youngest driver since 1961. how you’re capable of winning a championship,” charles scoffs disbelievingly, “how you’ll no longer blame yourself for things out of your control. how you’ll realize that the team’s mistakes aren’t your fault. how you’ll stop allowing yourself to be the scapegoat for their shortcomings. how you’ll stop accepting their excuses for constantly disappointing you.” you stare at charles with earnest eyes, letting him absorb your words.

“you’re one of the best charles. you’re loved. everyone wants to see you succeed. everyone wants to see you become confident in yourself again. everyone knows that if ferrari gave you the car you needed, you’d be racing towards your championship. you’re skilled, charles. you’re wonderful.”

charles shakes his head, doubtful, and whispers timidly, “i’m not.”

your heart shatters, and you shakily respond, “oh,” you sniff, gathering your composure, “so, you’re saying i’m lying to you? are you calling me a liar, charles?”

charles wiggles against the bed, fighting the double-edged sword he turned on himself, and whimpers in frustration. he sobs, but shakes his head furiously at your question—you’d never lie to him, you wouldn’t hurt him. you halt the vigorous shake of his head, grasping at his chin with one hand and turning him to face you, “then…i must be telling you the truth, hm?” charles swallows, and murmurs out a soft oui.

“good,” you clear your throat and drop your hold, bringing that same hand down to wrap around his cock again. charles tenses at the moist warmth of your palm. “since we’re on the same page, if you want me to let you cum, all you have to do is convince me that you believe the same things i just said. i have all night to make you accept the truth, charlie. don’t make this any harder than it has to be.”

taglist: @lorarri @soph1644 @jaydensluv @fanboyluvr @nissaimmortal @redgonerogue @hollie911 @saintwrld@buendiabebeta@butterfly-lover@lana-d3l-rey@dylan1721 @spicybagel14 @dhhdhsiavdhaj@miahgonzalez16@jjaekin @dkbj14 @f1lover55 @f1lov3r @mindless-rock@biancathecool@barnestatic@sweetpiccolo-blog@my-ylenia @zaynzierulez@reblog-princess-blog @lovingaphroditesworld @katekipshidze @darleneslane @inloveallthetime

579 notes · View notes

aoioozora · 4 months

Text

Simon.

Part 1

Part 2 - Part 3 - Part 4 - Part 5 - Part 6 - Part 7 - Part 8 - Part 9

Character: Simon Riley / Ghost Content: Biker! Ghost x Fem! Reader, strangers to lovers, fluff, civilian au Photo credit: quinci Note: Had 'Meddle About' by Chase Atlantic on repeat as I wrote this in one sitting. My first COD fanfiction. Enjoy!

Their hands squeezed against your arms and wrists. You tried to pull and yank away in resistance to their unwanted advances.

“Hey, c'mon, you're cute! You should come with us.” one of them said in a voice that was meant to sound silky and inviting, but came off as sleazy.

Words failed you, all of them stuck in your throat, a large lump of fear blocking them from escaping your lips, tightening within your neck like a balloon about to burst. The memory of self-defense vanished from your muscles as you pitifully tried to fight off three men who were taller and bigger than you with your pathetic grunts and pleas to be released.

Upon the dark and empty streets, a distant hum of an engine, accompanied by a singular bright light which seemed like a firefly's glow, appeared to he approaching. You took no notice.

The hum of the distant engine grew about as loud as a cat's threatening growl, and the light as that of a strong flashlight. It still didn't catch your notice.

The growl turned into a loud, deafening roar, seemingly at will, vibrating the still air like an earthquake. It caught all of your attention as it drew near at an alarming speed towards the four of you.

The three men shrieked with fright, automatically letting your hands go in the process, and covered their faces with their arms. The growling, glowing thing screeched to a halt inches in front of them, sending the sharp smell of burnt rubber up their noses.

When the four of you looked, there stood a shiny, jet black sports motorcycle, upon which sat a rider. He was helmeted, also dressed in ripped black jeans that hugged his tree trunk-like thighs, a black leather jacket that tightened against his muscular arms and broad shoulders. The flickering white light of the street lamp cast a ghastly, ominous glow over him, making him look like some sort of ghost from an urban legend.

The three men recovered from their shock and opened their mouths to berate this biker for interrupting them, but before they even did, the biker flicked up the dark visor of his helmet and revealed his equally dark, glaring eyes.

“What are you doing with my girlfriend?” asked the biker, enunciating every word, slowly, like he was holding back a dam's amount of rage. His gruff, gravelly, British accented voice was muffled slightly by the balaclava he wore under the helmet, yet every word was heard loud and clear as if they were spoken through a megaphone, and the three men immediately stepped back from you, knowing that messing with another man's girl would have dire consequences.

You didn't know you had a boyfriend. Yet you played along.

“Simon!” You cried as you ran to him, going behind the motorcycle and hiding behind his large body. You decided to name him whatever came to mind first.

He sat up straight on his motorcycle to keep you hidden from them as he balanced on the sleek vehicle which rumbled like a distant thunder between his legs. He glared at the three men. “Well?” he asked with a growl that very well sounded the same as the roar of his vehicle's engine.

They simply backed off without a word, knowing they wouldn't win. The mysterious motorcyclist who you named ‘Simon’, stayed until the three men were out of sight while you still stood behind him, watching them leave.

“You okay?” he finally asked you when the coast was clear, now turning his dark eyes over his shoulder, where you were standing.

You let out an exhale you didn't know you were holding. “I'm fine,” You replied with some effort, massaging your aching wrists.

He paused before replying; he could clearly see that you were rattled by the experience, considering how your eyes still looked apprehensive like that of a hunted rabbit’s. His eyes flickered to your wrists, and he looked back at you. “Did they hurt you?” he asked softly.

“They just held me tight. I mean, my arms.” You exhaled again, the ache in your wrists easing slightly. Words still seemed to fail you, but they now flowed out a little easier.

He seemed slightly taken aback by how nonchalantly you said this, like it was a common thing. “Bastards.” he growled in his very distinct accent, clearly not the posh British accent you knew. “This place isn't safe. What were you loitering around here for?” he asked, now holding the handles of his motorcycle as he leaned back and moved his legs, moving the motorcycle backwards so that it was now back on the street.

You moved away to give him space, and then replied, “A friend of mine lives here. There was a party at her place.”

His eyes narrowed slightly, and he now leaned forward to cross his arms on the tank of his vehicle. “Do you want to get out of here safely without getting hounded by blokes like those?” he asked.

“Yes!” you answered immediately. Somehow, you felt like you could trust this man somewhat, especially after he saved you and enquired about your wellbeing after that ordeal.

He leaned back slightly and patted the pillion behind him. “Get on. I'll be your taxi tonight.”

You blinked. “Are you sure? I don't want to bother you too much.”

“Look here, lass,” he started, leaning forward again, “I don't know if you know, but besides those cunts, there are muggers here too. And they all wake up at night. If you want to get out of here safely and not be a news report tomorrow, then get on." He pointed a thumb over his shoulder, "I'll take you wherever you need to go.”

You were surprised by his straightforwardness, yet it somehow seemed apt for a man with a gruff voice and a fearless attitude. Not another word more, you climbed up on the pillion of his motorcycle with some stumbling, but the man was patient, and leaned his motorcycle to the side to lower it slightly, so you could get on easier. As you were doing this, you couldn't help but notice the musky, earthy smell of his perfume, which reminded you of wet soil, rain, and dark chocolate; a positively divine scent.

“What's your name?” You asked as soon as you were comfortably settled on the seat.

There was a moment's pause before he answered, “Simon,” with an almost careful tone, as if he wanted to see your reaction.

As he expected, your eyes were wide with surprise. It melted away slightly as you thought he was just playing around with you. "Come on, that's the name I called you by earlier. What's your actual name?"

"It's Simon." he insisted.

You blinked yet again. "What a coincidence," You said laughingly, "I could've never imagined getting your name right on accident."

“I confess, you surprised me there.” His voice trailed off at the end, as if he wanted to say something cheesy, but he stopped himself, remembering that you were a stranger and not his friend. He leaned back again, yet again moving his motorcycle backwards.

You instinctively took hold of his shoulder to keep yourself steady as he moved. You tried to ignore it, but you noted how broad and rugged his shoulders were.

“So, where d'you wanna go?” he asked, taking hold of the handles and twisting the accelerator, making the motorcycle growl.

You told him your destination.

“Not too far. Two minutes if I go at 150.” he said, as if 150 kmph was slow for him. But he looked at you over his shoulder, “You okay going fast?”

“I've never gone fast before.”

He figured. "Wanna get a feel of it?"

"Sure, I've not nothing to lose... except my life, if you don't drive safely."

He chuckled, and it sounded oddly cute, unlike his gruff voice. "Just trust me, lass. I'm not gonna turn you into a news report."

"Well, you saved my life just there, I expect you to preserve it." You said with a chuckle. It felt strange that you already seemed comfortable enough with him to joke around.

"Nothing to worry about," he assured as he turned forward and revved the engines again. “You'll fly off, so hold on to me tight.” He said with emphasis.

“Gotcha.”

He got the wheels running, and started slow. The breeze kissed your face and your hair, and in the cool night, it felt freeing. He twisted the accelerator, going a notch faster. The breeze blew against you like a blow dryer, and you squinted your eyes slightly in order to see the quickly passing landscape of buildings, 24 hour convenience stores, and lighted street lamps.

He gradually increased the speed so you would not freak out, an oddly considerate thing he did for a complete stranger, something he would not usually ever do.

As the dial of the speedometer passed the 80s and crossed to the 100s, the breeze, now a gust, started to mercilessly slap your face, not allowing you to open your watering eyes. By this time, you had your arms around his waist and your face stuffed in and hidden behind his large back, holding on to him for dear life, while the smell of his perfume consoled your fears.

He rode on, completely unfazed by this speed, but a little stiff at the fact that a person, a woman, particularly, was holding on to him. It was out of necessity, of course, yet he couldn't help but feel a little strange about it.

As predicted, in two minutes, he reached your destination, which was thankfully a busy area with people still bustling around the open shops like it was daytime. He halted to a stop where you asked, and you took hold of his shoulder again as you mounted off the high pillion seat.

“Thanks a lot, Simon,” You smiled at him. You took notice of the logo on his helmet that carried the Italian flag in a semi-circle; it seemed to stand out over the glossy black shell of the headgear.

He pushed up his dark visor, and the flag was obscured. He nodded in response as his eyes studied your face, taking in the contours of your features all in a brief moment. "How did the speed feel?" he asked.

"Exhilarating," You replied, feeling your heart thumping wildly.

"In a good way?"

"I guess. It was kind of scary, but I liked it."

He nodded, and in his eyes, you could see that he looked a little pleased by your answer.

“I know it's not much but…” You paused, putting your hand in the pocket of your jacket, causing the contents to ruffle against each other. You pulled out a small, hard red candy wrapped in clear plastic and handed it to him. “... This is a little something for you for helping me out.”

He stared at the little candy on the palm of your hand, almost ready to refuse it out of modesty. But it was just a little candy. Who could it hurt? His fair hand reached out and took the candy, and both of you noted how tiny the sweet treat looked on his palm. He could crush it with his bare hands if he wanted to. Yet, he held it gently and stashed it in the pocket of his leather jacket, murmuring a word of gratitude that was barely audible under the two layers of his balaclava and his helmet.

“Well, you take care. And don't hang around in sketchy places like that next time,” he said, as if you were his friend of many years.

You were warmed by his concern for you, and you smiled, nodding. “After that, I don't think I'll hang around there at this time anymore. I'm sure as hell gonna stay over at my friend's place if I'm there till late.”

“Excellent choice,” he remarked. “I'll be off now.”

“Take care.” You smiled at him again, and his eye lingered on you a moment longer before he turned his head away.

He silently revved the engine of his vehicle again and sped off. You stood by the side of the road, watching his figure recede as the distance grew.

A sense of longing washed over you for this stranger named Simon, and you wondered if you would ever see him again. It was a strange coincidence that you unknowingly guessed his name so correctly, like unknowingly marking the right choice in a multiple choice exam.

It all came back to you now. The feeling of his rugged shoulder and back under the smooth leather of his jacket; the coarse, gravelly growl of his British accented voice that felt like rubbing coffee powder between your fingers, rough yet pleasing; the scent of his perfume like that of a dark, wet, rainforest; and his eyes… oh, his dark eyes were brooding and mysterious. Under the shade of his helmet, they seemed like swirling little black holes, the gravity around them dense enough to draw you in like a helpless star.

A shiver passed down your spine as you thought of him, making your cheeks flush with warmth as a distant look reflected in your pining eyes.

You started your walk back home, thoughts filled to the brim, flooding like a tidal wave with this biker. You were left knowing nothing about him, except for his name:

Simon.

End.

Part 2

Comment if you want to be added to my taglist :)

342 notes · View notes

forthelostones · 8 months

Text

☠︎ female reader x ghostface!abby ☠︎ (part one!)

synopsis: abby finds you trying on your halloween costume and wants a private show.

warnings. 18+ (mdni); perv!abby, sub!reader x dom!abby, teasing, kn!fe play, fingering, grinding, guided masturbation, strap receiving/sucking, mirror play, squ!rting, and spanking.

an: its fall-time and i am excited for halloween so lets goooo. also, anyone else love ghostface, just me okay.

wc: 1.1k

PART TWO

It was October 30th and you were still figuring out what you should wear to the costume competition tomorrow. This was different for you, you had actually decided to show your body more, shorter skirt, tighter bra, darker makeup, the works. You had been in your room posing in the mirror adjusting your fairy costume. You open your camera and snap a few pics, bending over, showing your thong, and seeing what the view would possibly be.

A text from an unknown number comes up on your screen.

I like your top.

You noticed the photo attached is a view of your ass peaking out the skirt.

You peer over your shoulder, out your bedroom window, startled by the text. You sit on the edge of your bed, taken aback by the timing of the random message.

Wrong number, you reply.

Green corset?

Your heart drops as you move to walk to close your blinds.

I can still see you baby.

You notice your closet door opened slightly, which was normal, right? You had been rummaging through your clothes all night, making up safer outfits. But that was earlier, you hadn’t been in your room since then. You feel a beat in your lower stomach as you realize you may not be alone.

You hear the floorboards creak as you accept that you’ve become helpless. In the mirror you see the white and black mask creep from the closet, startling you with a knife in their dominant hand. It shimmered under the dim light of the candles coasted across your room.

“That’s pretty.” They said.

You couldn't help but notice the strong physique of the masked killer. Rock-like biceps stretching out a black t-shirt, defined calves forced into black jeans, and most importantly large, bruised hands.

They circle over to you and flaunt their knife in your face. Although the threat of death was prevalent, you squeezed your thighs together at the sight of their veiny hands wrapped around the grip. Your clit grew as the knife came close into view.

“You like this?” You say calmly.

They nod, lifting their mask to show you their wet lips, then planting a kiss on yours. You noticed the deep jawline and blonde hair peeking from under the mask. She gets on the bed behind you swiftly, then drags the knife slowly up the innermost sensitive part of your arm. You tingled with frightened desire.

“Take it off.” She demanded.

“This?”

You reached for the back of the corset top, unstringing each lace delicately. You hear her panting irregularly at the simple sight of your back. You move slowly which makes her panting deeper, impatient, and sultry. The bedazzled top dropped to the floor and she automatically dropped the knife to pull you onto her lap. She places her thigh in between yours and finds your sweetness, you sigh at the relief of finally having someone other than yourself touching your clit. She brings her hands up to your breasts. As she palms your nipples in the mirror and tugs them roughly between her fingertips, you groan in pain.

“Shut up.”

You bite your lip to stifle the pain you feel. She pulls them further than you could imagine, which makes you buzz as you grind up and down her thigh desperately. She dips her fingertips into your throat, gagging you more than you’d like to admit, leaving spit dripping down your chin. She brought her wet fingers to your erect nipples and rubbed in circles quite gently. You toss your head back onto her chest as she flicks them with her fingertips. She pushes you off her chest, onto the ground, with your ass exposed in your short skirt.

“You were gonna wear this out?” She asked laying a hard smack across your ass.

You wince and nod slowly as she trailed her knife against your spine. You gasped as you felt a slight pinch, wondering if she was drawing blood. She reaches towards your white thong and snaps it into two with the end of the knife. She pinches the back of your neck with her hand and draws your head back.

“I don’t know why you thought that was a good idea. What pervs are you trying to attract?”

“The ones like you.” You reply.

She tosses you back on all fours at your snarky comment.

She picks up your mangled panties and goes sit at the head of your bed. She crosses her legs with her heavy boots shaking dirt all over your clean duvet. You don’t dare react, you stay still in the position you left her until you notice she’s waiting for something. You peer at her in the mirror, tussling your soaked panties in her hand. You sit in front of your mirror with her sight still trapped heavily over you. You spread your legs wide open and perk your breasts up, waiting for her commands.

“Go ‘head, suck those fingers.” She demands.

You bring your fingertips into your mouth with no hesitation and slide your tongue in between the two, the view alone makes her spread her own legs. You push your pussy downwards on the floor, attempting to reach some connection with your clit. You grind harder as you gag on your fingertips, eyes watering, face blushing, and spit coasting your bottom lip.

“Touch those nipples for me,” she demands.

You pull your fingers out of your mouth and to your left nipple, which was pulsing already, you circled your areola and pulled on your peak, which made a moan slip out of your mouth. You move to your right, the most sensitive one, and flick it just the way you liked it when you were alone. Her hand unbuckles her black pants to reveal a dark purple strap. Her thick hands ran up the length of it, and you breathed deeply wanting to feel it inside you.

“Oh, you see something you want?” She said mischievously.

You couldn’t even speak so you just nodded.

“Then show me how you want me to fuck you.”

You didn’t hesitate to send two fingers inside your wet hole, they slid right in with no friction. You curled them inside, pounding your pussy, placing your palm against your clit. You grind and massage your clit at the same time, causing you to sweat ferociously imagining her six-inch strap inside you.

“What should I call you baby?” You groan.

“Abby.” She couldn’t resist at revealing herself, to know that she’s taking you over the edge.

“Abby? You like how I’m fucking myself for you?”

“I do.” Her hands reach under her shirt, feeling for her nipples.

You continue to make eye contact with her, wherever her eyes had been behind that mask, and spurt out wetness onto the mirror. She couldn’t help but keep her eyes on your fingers hugging your pussy so generously. Before you come over the edge you turn towards the edge of the bed and sit upright. You bounce on your two fingers, like you were taking her strap, and making your ass jump for her. She muttered something under her breath but you couldn’t quite make out what she said as you went dumb for her. She crawled towards the edge of the bed and stuck the strap in your mouth. The warmth coaxed your tongue as she pushed the back of your head deeper into her core. You look up with your wet eyes to see her watching your ass shake in the mirror. She moaned as the friction of the strap pressed against her perky clit.

You so badly wanted to kiss her after she removed her strap from your cheeks. You look up to her with desperation, ready to be fucked.

#abby anderson #abby x reader #abby the last of us #abby tlou #perv!abby #ghostface #tlou abby #abby anderson smut #abby anderson x you #abby anderson tlou2 #ellie x reader #ellie williams smut #lesbian #the last of us #smut #x reader

950 notes · View notes