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joelsgreys · 6 months

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strawberry

Daddy Dom! Joel Miller x Sub! Female Reader

summary: You feel ashamed for using your safe word with Joel during a session—he assures you you’re his good girl no matter what.

warnings/tags: 18+ only, MINORS DNI. (TW) daddy kink, lots of dd/lg lifestyle elements, reader is collared (day collar) age gap that is self indulgent, reader is mid to late 20’s and Joel is in his 50’s but tweak that to your imaginations if you like. SMUT; p in v sex, rough sex (that reader asks to try), spanking, possible overstimulation (if you squint??) Joel basically fucks reader too much and too hard. USE OF SAFE WORD. aftercare and lots of fluff, references to a pop culture film that i haven’t seen in forever but it’s fine. PLEASE BE MINDFUL OF TAGS AND WARNINGS. if this isn’t your thing, no worries just scroll on by.

MOODBOARD FOR AESTHETIC PURPOSES ONLY, READER HAS NO PHYSICAL DESCRIPTION.

word count: 2.4k

a/n: this is totally self indulgent, all for me as someone who has dabbled in the lifestyle before. if this is not your thing, no problem at all but kindly keep any negative comments to yourself. huge shoutout to the lovely @swiftispunk for inspiring this with the snippets of her own upcoming series that i am oh so excited for, darling han thank you for not only inspiring this, but for listening to me talk about it and encouraging it! and also to sweet mya @cavillscurls because truth be told her own fic brought back so many memories of a time in my life where i was genuinely so happy, in love, and felt safe with a partner. okay, i am gonna run away to the gym now to listen to 1989 tv (again) and pretend posting this is not nerve wracking as hell.

He’s fucked you plenty of times before.

But never like this. No, never, ever like this.

He’s relentless.

His thrusts are coming quicker, sloppier, harsher.

It doesn’t hurt, but it’s intense. Too intense.

Joel Miller is truly testing your limits tonight.

No, he was pushing you past your limits.

Because that’s what you’d asked him to do.

“Alright, sweet girl. This is the last time I’m gonna ask you before we get started. Are you absolutely, one hundred—no, one thousand percent sure that you wanna try this out tonight?” he had asked you beforehand, skimming the strap of your light pink, lace lingerie with his index finger, his feathery soft touch sending a plesant little chill down the length of your spinal column. Of all the sets you owned, it had to be Joel’s absolute favorite. Normally, it was him who would pick out what you would wear, but tonight he’d decided to let you choose for yourself and oh, you did not disappoint. He fucking adored you in the color pink; loved how sickeningly sweet, precious, and innocent you appeared in the hue as you did the filthiest things to him, with him. When you nodded eagerly in reply to his question, a sigh fell from his lips, the doubt written all over his face as he remarked, “I really don’t think you’re ready. I think we should wait just a little a while longer.”

“I’m ready,” you’d insisted, stubbornly. “I promise. I wouldn’t be asking for it if I thought I wasn’t. But I am, I promise, promise, promise I am.”

“Daddy knows what’s best for you, sweetheart—”

Fingers curled around his bicep, you’d batted your eyelashes, giving him those eyes that brought him down to his knees for you a lot more often than he cared to admit, those eyes that made Joel feel like he was learning his role all over again, despite over two decades of experience under his belt. He used to pride himself for his ability to stand firm against pouting lips, fluttering lashes, and pleading gazes. And then you come along and suddenly it’s like he is in his thirties again and he’s navigating this kind of dynamic for the first time. Even after a year and a half with you, he’s still trying to figure out how to completely unwrap himself from your little finger.

“Please? Pretty please with a cherry on top?”

Christ, you made things so goddamn difficult.

“You really think you’re gonna be able to handle it? You think you’re gonna be able to handle me when I get real rough with you, baby? Hm?”

Without missing a beat, you replied, “Yes, Daddy. I can handle it. I know I can.”

You had been so certain that you could.

Confident, even. So confident that when he began going over the rules and reminded you to use your safe word if you needed him to stop, you’d giggled and stated, “I’ve never needed to use it before and I don’t plan on using it tonight.”

Oh, how very wrong you had been about it all.

You’d overestimated yourself, and underestimated Joel. Severely.

His hips snap roughly into yours without an ounce of mercy, over and over, again and again. Beads of perspiration start trailing their way down the sides of his face, the tip of his nose. His chest is flushed, red, and also slicked with a thin sheen of sweat.

You’ve already shattered, unraveled, come undone all over his cock several times—every time with his granted permission, of course. Because you knew better than to come without Daddy’s permission.

Your cunt is swollen, sensitive, too sensitive and at a point where it could start aching if he doesn’t let up soon. However, it seems like Joel’s only getting rougher and rougher as he chases another release.

“Joel—Daddy,” you manage to correct yourself at the very last second through a slew of frantic little gasps for air. “Daddy, please! Daddy please—”

His large hand tightens around both of your wrists pinned to the mattress above your head. Surely he must think you’re begging him for more, when the reality is you’re about to start begging him to stop because it’s just too much and you can’t handle it; but there’s a part of you that doesn’t want to stop, the part of you that doesn’t want to disappoint the man who means the whole, entire world to you.

The man you belonged to, the man you loved.

Even through the haze, you try telling yourself that it’s all mind over matter, mind over matter, mind—

“Stop,” you whine, squirming underneath him. “I—can’t take it anymore, Daddy, I can’t take it—!”

Releasing your wrists, Joel pulls himself out of you and you breathe out in relief, until he flips you over onto your stomach without warning. You let out an audibly loud gasp when his hands reach down and take your hips, pulling them up off his bed, putting you on your hands and knees. He brings down one of his hands on your ass in a stinging slap. “That is just too bad, ‘cause Daddy ain’t done with you yet, darlin’ girl. Not even close to bein’ done with you.” Wrapping his other hand around his base, he grins to himself as he glides the head of his cock up and down your slick folds. When it grazes your clit, you jerk forward, away from him, and he tuts, bringing you back to him, his fingers digging into the pillow soft flesh of your hips. “Oh no baby, you ain’t goin’ anywhere.”

“But Daddy, I just can’t—”

You’re cut off by your own cry when you feel Joel’s length stretching your walls all over again. It’s just too much.

And you really, really can’t.

He leans over you and presses his lips to your ear. “You asked for this, didn’tcha? Asked to be fucked like a big girl, huh?” He bucks forward into you, eliciting another strangled cry followed by a string of pathetic whimpers. Bringing his palm down in a second strike, he demands, “Answer me when I’m takin’ to you. You wanted this, said that you could handle Daddy bein’ rough with you, ain’t that right now?”

“Strawberry.” You say the word so quietly, you can hardly hear it over the ringing in your ears.

Joel spanks you for a third time, in the exact same spot—so hard, there was simply no way you would wake up without a mark in the morning. “I need’ya to speak up. You’re such a big girl after all—”

“Strawberry!” You grasp fistfuls of bedsheets and the signal for it all to end tears itself from the back of your throat. “Strawberry, Joel! Strawberry!”

It’s only a millisecond that he freezes, if that.

“Fuckin’ hell,” Joel curses under his breath, pulling out of you. The bed shifts as he climbs off of it and scrambles to pull on his sweatpants before he’s at your side—you’re still on your hands and knees, an unmistakable look of panic on your face. He puts a gentle hand on your back. “Baby, are you alright?”

Your heart is pounding, your breathing labored but you manage a small, tight nod of your head. “I-I’m fine. I just—” Stopping, you grip the sheets tighter, warm tears brimming your eyes. Shame over what you’ve just done is already creeping in and sinking into your bones.

“Are you hurt, sweetheart? Did I hurt you?”

Joel’s voice is calm, but you can hear the concern that laces his tone.

“No.” Your own voice is small. “No. You didn’t hurt me.”

“Is it alright if I move you?” he asks. When you nod your head, he reaches out for you and helps you to sit on the side of the bed. Dropping to his knees in front of you, he takes your hands and his and feels his stomach sink when he realizes they’re ice cold; he begins rubbing them between his own to warm them up. “Baby if I hurt you, you need to tell m—”

“I promise, you didn’t hurt me,” you reassure him, swallowing the thickness rising in the back of your throat. You clock the skepticism in his dark brown eyes and a tear slips out, rolls down your face, and splatters onto your bare thigh. “I’m not lying, Joel. I swear.” Tugging one of your hands out of his, you reach up and instinctively clasp it around the blue sapphire pendant hanging from the delicate, gold chain around your neck—he’d presented you with his birthstone last year, not only as a symbol of his ownership of you, but also as a beautiful reminder of your commitment to one another. “You believe me, don’t you? You believe I’m telling the truth?”

Joel’s expression softens. “‘Course I do, baby.” He cups the side of your face gently, brushing away a second teardrop with his thumb. “But I’d really like to know what happened so I can figure out how to best help, okay? Can you tell me what happened?”

Embarrassed, you try turning your head away, but he holds your cheek in his hand, gentle but firm.

“S’okay. You can talk to me,” he encourages softly, his gaze meeting yours once again. “Tell me.”

“It was just too much,” you mumble, meekly. “And too intense.” Heat floods your face as you admit to him, “You were right. I just wasn’t—I wasn’t ready for that yet.”

In an effort to lighten your mood, Joel lightly gives your cheek a delicate pinch and chuckles.

“Daddy’s got that real annoyin’ habit of bein’ right ‘bout a lot of things, don’t he?”

“I’m sorry.” Your bottom lip quivers. “I’m so sorry.”

His smile falters. “Sorry for what?”

“For using the safe word—”

Joel’s eyebrows shoot up in surprise. “Y’know you ain’t supposed to apologize for needin’ to use your safe word, right? That ain’t how it works, darlin’.”

Dropping your necklace, you place your hand over his on your cheek. “But I feel bad,” you confess. “It makes me feel like—like I let you down, you know? And that’s the last thing I want to do. I just wanted to be really good for you.”

“Oh baby.” Joel lifts himself from the floor. He sits on the bed and pulls you onto his lap, brushing his lips against your temple. “You are such a good girl for me, sweetheart.”

“But I couldn’t take it,” you sniff. “I had to stop.”

“And that’s okay,” he assures you. He wraps you in his arms and gives your body a gentle squeeze. “It ain’t nothin’ to be ashamed ‘bout. You’re still really new to a lot of this stuff, y’know? S’why I told you I didn’t think you were ready.”

“I should’ve listened to you.”

He winks. “You should always listen to Daddy.”

You offer him a tiny, watery smile. “I know.”

“And say we try this again one day and it’s just not somethin’ you like or that makes you feel good—or maybe you never wanna try it again at all,” he says with a nonchalant shrug. “That’s okay too. You are still my good girl no matter what—my perfect girl. Always. You understand me?”

“Really? You promise?”

Joel holds up his pinky.

“Oh, you’re being really serious,” you tease him.

“Sure as hell am, darlin’.”

You lock your finger around his and he pulls you in for a sweet kiss.

“I love you, Joel,” you murmur against his lips. You giggle again when he clears his throat and smacks your ass lightly, playfully. “I love you, Daddy.”

“I love you too, baby.” Joel pulls away and touches the tip of his nose to yours. “How’s ‘bout we get in the bath and get all cleaned up? Hm?”

“A bath?” You instantly perk up. “With bubbles?”

“With bubbles. And I’ll even let you throw in one of those smelly ball things you fuckin’ love so much.”

You swat at his chest. “Hey! My bath bombs smell really good, thank you very much!”

Joel doesn’t particularly like emerging from a bath smelling like a petunia, but for you, he’s more than happy to bathe in a sea of them, glitter and all.

You trace his collarbone with your index finger.

“Daddy? After our bath can we just cuddle in bed? Maybe watch a movie?” He raises an eyebrow and you smile sheepishly, adding, “Please?”

“‘Course. Pick any movie you want, sweetheart.”

“And can we have ice cream while we watch too?”

He pins you with a stern look. “Alright, now you’re just pushin’ it and takin’ advantage.”

You jut your lower lip. “Please, Daddy?”

There’s no arguing with that, not tonight.

Joel decides to let you have your way. “Alright.”

The two of you spend quite some time in the bath; normally a bath together ends with him inside you all over again, but tonight, all he’s doing is running a soapy wash cloth with your favorite shower gel—japanese cherry blossom—all over your body as he sits behind you, lips pressed against your ear. Joel washes you slowly, carefully, and all the while he’s whispering sweet, tender praise.

My good girl.

My perfect girl.

I’m s’proud of you.

I’m the luckiest man in the whole world.

After the bath, once you’re both dried and dressed in comfortable clothes—him in a clean pair of gray sweatpants and you in nothing but his t-shirt, Joel gives you the remote and instructs you to pick out a movie to watch.

“Make yourself real comfortable, baby,” he says to you, kissing the top of your head. “I’ll be back with that ice cream.”

You shoot him a hopeful glance. “Strawberry?”

“You tryin’ to be funny with me, darlin’?”

“No! That’s just my favorite flavor, silly.”

Joel grins to himself as he leaves the bedroom.

He knows that. Of course he knows that.

It’s why he always keeps a pint of it in his freezer.

You hop into bed and pull the blankets around you as your scan through the guide for a movie—you’d just decided on The Notebook when Joel appears again, a bowl and two spoons in his hands.

“You picked The Notebook again, didn’t you?” he asks without even looking at the flat screen that’s mounted on his wall over the fireplace.

“You said I could pick any movie I wanted.”

“Was just hopin’ you’d pick one we haven’t seen a thousand times,” he chuckled, sliding into his bed next to you. Joel places the bowl of strawberry ice cream in his lap and hands you a spoon. “C’mere, my sweet girl. Come closer.”

You snuggle up to him, and the two of you dig into the frozen dessert as the movie begins to play.

“Baby?” Joel speaks after a while, just as Allie and Noah share a passionate kiss in the pouring rain.

“Hm?” you ask, your fixed eyes on the flat screen, your mouth full of ice cream.

“You sure you’re okay?”

Swallowing, you look up at Joel, meeting his gaze.

“Yeah, I’m okay,” you answer honestly.

“‘Cause if there’s anythin’ else I can do for you…”

You purse your lips together and let out a tiny hum as you mull it over for a moment.

“You can hold me closer?” you finally suggest.

Joel shifts in his spot. “I can definitely do that—”

You stop him and point to the empty bowl.

“After you go and get us some more ice cream?”

He exhales an amused snort through his nose and shuffles out of bed, taking the bowl with him.

“Don’t get so used to bossin’ Daddy around,” Joel warns you playfully over his shoulder.

“Too late.”

divider credit to @saradika 🍓

#tw daddy kink #tw: daddy kink #joel miller x reader #joel miller smut #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller fluff #joel miller x you #joel miller x y/n #joel miller one shot #joel miller drabble #joel miller x f!reader #joel miller x female reader

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gremlingottoosilly · 6 months

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The Horror and The Wild [Emperor!Konig x fem!Reader] Medieval Fantasy AU

You had a nice, simple life. Serve the princess, obey the princess, protect the princess with your life. You never thought that this nice, simple life would bring you to be kidnapped by the infamous Northern Emperor. Konig never thought that kidnapping a wife would be much easier than courting one. CHAPTER 1 CHAPTER 2| you're here! Word count: 5317 Tags/Warnings: Medieval fantasy/Alternative European history AU, Age gap, Enemies(one-sided)to lovers, Hurt/Comfort, Kidnapping, Forced marriage, Size difference(Konig is absolutely huge), Somewhat one-sided slow burn, Yandere Konig This fic on AO3

— You’re really quiet, little princess.

König isn’t ashamed of staring at you the whole horse ride. He isn’t ashamed of touching you, his precious treasure – cupping your breasts through that pathetic excuse of a corset, trying to feel of your legs through the billions of skirts, his touches sprawling across your skin like bruises. He is a soldier in all regards – his touches are far from gentle, far from how he should behave with his bride. You feel like a piece of meat being presented for him to devour. Like an unwilling sacrifice for a benevolent god.

— Should I scream then?

Snarkiness isn't something that the princess should have – but it's the only weapon you have, although you are not sure if you can even use it. Emperor is laughing, and it is supposed to be a good thing – you were trained to receive such reactions, like a little dog standing and doing tricks on command; you were taught to strive for smiles on the faces of others. But König doesn’t allow you to see his smile, but König laughs all the time while describing to his soldiers the things he wants to do to you. It is almost surely, that he doesn’t think you know his language – you wish you didn’t know.

— I can give you a reason to scream. — You shall not threaten a… — I’m not threatening you, kleine Katzen. With a good time, maybe. — What are you referring to? — That I would love nothing more but to rip your skirt off and show your cunt a royal treatment, princess.

Emperor has a foul mouth, wandering eyes, and grabby hands – he behaves like a drunk man in a tavern, even though you have never once been in a tavern, and the only drunk men you barely saw were the castle guards on various celebrations. He doesn’t act like a glorious king from the romance novels – and you don’t think that you ever read a novel about a king or an emperor, not about princes and glorious knights. People with this much power don’t deserve love, they already have everything they have – so why would he kidnap you?

You turn away from him, the obscenity of his mouth makes your whole face burn. You are trying to hide yourself in your hands, you want to grasp something like a little fan or a handkerchief – everything to sustain your dignity. You are wearing the princess’s name and you have to behave like her – even if you don’t think that she would care about how you are behaving yourself. The dread of being exposed lingers in your chest, the only thing that doesn’t allow you to scream and launch on him like a wild cat. Rules and modesty tie you down stronger than any corset could.

Like a rabbit caught in the hunter’s trap – you steal looks at the nature around you, excited and terrified to see it for the first time – not the perfect greenery of the castle garden, but an untamed nature. You saw the city for the first time – your capital, not burned and agonized under the empire’s boot, but eerie quiet. The city doesn’t know your face, the princess was hidden, kept in the tower as a means to escape the burden of marriage proposals and possible wars for the sake of securing her beauty. Nobody here knows you for your face, and for them, it’s just the empire’s knights, a power from a country too foreign to be worried about, and a random kidnapped girl in a dissarranged dress and tears streaming down her face.

A hand on your waist secured you in place. No matter how much you squirm and cry, try to forget all the filthy nonsense he is whispering in your ear, you are forced to listen – and you want to cry every time his face hovers over yours. His hands are touching you, too much for comfort, your are still wrapped in his cape, but it’s a very small mercy for your torn dress and fragile body.

The road is long and short at the same time. Your kingdom was bordering one of Northern Empire territories, but it’s days away – you never once thought that having the Empire right on your border would be such a nuisance, that it would allow them to simply take whatever they want from your tiny country – the rules of politics are never applying to those in power and, unfortunately, you found out the worst way possible. The road is treacherous, with people surrounding you, with soldiers going through the beheaded country like it’s nothing. You were biting your lips the entire first day of the ride, trying not to cry – you do not want to give him the pleasure of seeing your distress, but you can’t help but sob every time he exits the cabin to yell at his soldiers or laugh at something.

You are not tied up, they trust you too much – they all know you would not be able to run, seeing just a helpless princess, a little war trophy of their emperor. The war trophy without the war, just a doll for him to enjoy. You steal a few glances at him – his spread legs that make you wonder how the poor horse even can handle him riding it, his mighty body, and his muscular arms. He could wrestle a dragon, you think – he could lift up the whole carriage and bring you back to the capital like this. He is a cocky bastard, not even having his sword in his hand whenever you move too much – too confident that this weak princess would not be able to resist him. You don’t want to fall from the horse and so you freeze in your tracks, even when they hit a small pause on the journey.

You can’t, of course – your hands are trained to hold clothes, to braid hair and, sometimes, fetch the water buckets – but you are mostly proficient in holding books, turning pages and embroidering. You can make tea, you can support the conversation, you can faint dramatically whenever the right opportunity occurs, but the ride has been happening for a few hours already, and you fainted three times – for specific reasons, of course, but fainting now would surely be a bit too much.

— Is little princess too tired to hold herself straight?

König chuckles in your ear, hands pushing you against his body. You don’t want to say anything, you’d rather continue your ride until you’re completely exhausted – books were never talking about how hard it is to ride a horse, that your rear would feel numb after the first hour, and your head would be bouncing on every little bump on the road. You never thought that the roads of your kingdom were so terribly maintained – and never thought it would be such a problem.

You grit your teeth, not wanting to give him the satisfaction of confirming just how weak you are – but he stops his horse once you are not responding, a hand slides under your hips to help you get out from the damned animal. You swear to god that you will never ride this foul creature again – but the god, as always, stays silent.

— What is it?

— Princess isn’t used to long detours. We’d have to stop before dawn if we want to keep this a secret for now. — Could travel for a few more hours before it’s too bright.

His second-in-command is a weird man, no doubt. Tall, broad, wearing armor with tiger prints all over the metal – although you never saw a tiger in real life, only on various illustrations of the books you were reading for the Princess. He is painfully informal in a way that makes you wonder how he can keep his head on his shoulders – surely, if he’d talk this way to a king, he wouldn’t be such a profound member of the army. König only shakes his head, pointing at you as the reason to stop – as you begged him to get off this bloody thing. — I need my princess with all innards intact. Especially the soft ones.

Emperor laughs, cupping your ass through the skirts. He somehow managed to grope your softness without breaking the corsage, and you’d feel thankful for him, but the dress was ruined anyway – all the hard work of redoing it over and over, every time you had to manage to squish the princess inside of the harsh corset and billion skirts, every little detail you were thinking through together…it feels somehow suitable, to wear a destroyed dress. Fake princess deserves fake luxury, but even the modesty he allows you to have with his coat wrapped around you feels forced.

Stopping right now, when you feel numb and your legs are getting weak and squishy like that weird transparent foreign delicacy, is very considerate of him. So much so you don’t even want to acknowledge it, hoping he’d just continue to go forward until all the traces of your past are gone. You’re too tired to consider anything from escaping to even opening your eyes. Suddenly, being on a horse of this size doesn't sound like something out of a fairytale. Suddenly, you realize that the horses are tall.

— What’s wrong, princess?

— I’m not going down.

You are sitting, frozen on top of his horse. One of your hands is keeping his coat wrapped securely around your body while the other squeezes the reins, hoping not to fall miserably to the ground. You hear soldiers laugh – the embarrassment spreads around your cheeks when you understand that a true princess would have horse riding lessons. You two never did – it would give you too much freedom, and your castle would never accommodate to large grounds of free roaming to keep a princess and her loyal maiden entertained. You can only hope they won’t think that the absence of your riding lessons would be too suspicious – and you also hope that he would just allow you to never jump down to the ground that feels horrifyingly far from you.

— Do you wish to run with my horse?

— Yes, your Highness. — Run, then. I’ll be waiting, little princess.

There is a laugh in his voice – you squeeze the reins and try to holster them, maybe kick the foul creature to the side so it would take the hint and start running in the direction of the nearest forest. Maybe you would get lucky, and the horse would drop you in front of the house of a kind forest witch that would take you as her student – you can cook, and you can read, so, naturally, any witch would be happy to have you as a disciple. Maybe you will get even more lucky, and the horse will kick you in the head after dropping you, finishing your misery in a tragic road accident. Not a honorable death, but a quick and interesting one. The horse remains frozen in place – just like you. König gently caresses its face, giving it something to eat – an apple, perhaps, a nice and tasty fruit, or sugar cubes, the delicacy that the princess would often indulge in but never gave you, or something of a…ah, this is it – you are starting to get jealous of his horse. Mayhaps, death is the only choice for you now.

— I will run.

— Of course you will.

— Sir, should we prepare the archers?

— Don’t know it yet. Maybe the princess escape would be too swift for them.

You feel your whole face burn – they laugh, they all laugh, looking at you like a piece of meat, a funny joke between them. You don’t want to fall from the horse, and you don’t want to stand here either – but every time you look down at the ground that is so, so far away, you can only shake in your seat. You feel like crying once again – and this is what brings you to the edge. With a deep sigh and shaking hands, you jump down swiftly, your eyes closed and your legs getting tangled in the various skirts, dragging you down. ***

The emperor had an understanding of what he was getting into when he kidnapped a princess. Princesses, pretty and young ones especially, are mysterious creatures that should be carefully studied by the imperial scientist in order to determine how in hell they can even exist without killing themselves on something stupid three times per day. This one, however, was a crowned ruler of weird girls – sometimes throughout the journey, he was thinking about returning her to the king and choosing another one. Then he remembered that he beheaded the king – and so, the bloody dot was sealed in the history of relationships between Northern Empire and this tiny shithole in the middle of nowhere.

Besides, the princess was too adorable to really throw her out. She is smart – for someone like her, anyway; her snarkiness combined with the primal fear of him and his men made him feel strong, more significant than before. It’s funny, in a way – König had defeated countless great warriors and spent his life turning the tiny Empire into the most powerful nation on the blonde, and yet, he never once felt this achieved as when he held the princess in his arms. The emperor never thought of marriage as a necessity, his whole magic endeavors securing that he would never have to worry about leaving an heir or having someone else to rule – but the loneliness can hit you like a royal stallion bred for the purpose of battery ramming into castle doors, and you can find yourself yearning for something that you never thought you’d want. Speaking of royal horses…

The princess is cute, the princess is dumb, and the princess is the most weird and perfect creature in the whole wide world. Makes him wonder just what was you doing in your little castle with your little servants, running around like ants under your dainty heel. You are snarky to him when you know that he is too busy to strike you and too tired to care about his opinion – he likes that about you, little yawns and feeble attempts to appear strong in front of him. He doesn’t, however, like the way you are frozen on top of his horse. He needs his wife helpless, yes, dependant on him in everything – and he also needs her to ask for help when needed, not…well, not jumping from the height of a royal horse in that stupid dress of yours.

God, hive him strength.

König, the ruler of the Northern Empire, biggest royal regime on the globe, thought that he overcame his anxiety when he was young, so long ago, he forgot how fast his heart can beat when the situation is going out of his control. He remembers this dreadful feeling now when that stupid brain of yours has decided that jumping from a horse is a good idea. He is fast, swift enough to catch you before you fall to the ground, and he squeezes your hips enough to hear the crack of that stupid dress construction.

He has to stop himself from yelling. From putting you in your place and slapping you across that perfect face of yours – never the one to beat women, König feels like spanking the shit out of you now. His eyes are flashing with anxiety, and he grabs your shoulders, putting you in front of him – you can’t see his face, covered by his mask, and it’s a small grace for someone like you. He is scary when angry, nostrils flashing with rage when he thinks that you’d rather break your neck than ask him for help.

— Made others set the camp for tonight.

Horangi is as perfect as a knight can be – his friend, his partner in crime, one of the only ones who still can survive his temper and not be intimidated by it. He can see the worry in his eyes when König is pushing the little princess down to his hold, draping the various skirts across his hands to rip them away – and he quickly yells at the other soldiers who produced the operation, making them run in various directions to collect wood, stones and set up the tents for tonight. They have to move away from the popular roads, even though nobody in this kingdom would be strong enough to hurt them anyways – but this operation should be a secret, at least relatively, until the princess is secured as his empress, and her body is sprawled across his sheets, withering from pleasure and…

Ah, Scheisse. König cannot stay mad at her when the mere thought of her smile makes his dick twitch in his pants. He survived through horribly throbbing erection against the metal plates of his armor for the whole ride, the small mercy of not having her soft body press against him directly. It didn’t stop him from wanting more, from whispering filthy things, completely undeserving of your virtue. You are bringing him down to his knees – even an emperor is just a man when a pretty girl looks at him, and even at is age, he could feel like a young lover searching for his bride’s hand.

Oh, but König would love something more than just your hand.

He should be thankful to his knights for how quickly they made a tent for him to secure the dignity of the first moment between a man and his sweetheart. He usually does everything himself, not wanting to make a lady in waiting out of his knights, but he enjoys their help now – he surely won’t be able to prepare for sleep with his wild cat of a bride in his hands. You are unusually active for a princess, trying to get out of his hands, kicking him with your adorable legs, still wrapped in a ruined skirt. Perhaps you were so mad at him for destroying your dress – he gets it, knowing how sensitive ladies are about this. He’d buy you a new one right away, but, for your stupidity, you deserve to wear only his coat until they are inside the borders of the Empire.

— Did you hit your head before I got you, princess? What were you thinking? — You told me to run. I did, Your Royal Highness.

He pinches his nose through the mask, not believing just how arrogant you sound – he wants to push you down, to open that dumb skirt of yours and give your precious ass a few spanks before setting you down, making you sit on the ruined muscle until you’d learn your lesson. The king was definitely not punishing you enough if you still think that you can talk to your betters (and elders) like this.

— I dared you to run. Thinking you’d accept the consequences with the dignity of a royal lady.

— Why don’t you kill me then? For belittling your dignity.

You look too snarky for his liking – he can see how terrified you are, little shakes of your hands and tears in your eyes. You are provoking him, picking the dragon with a stick so he’d burn you to a crisp. König knows that the customs of your kingdom value a good death over everything and just how much you’d love to fall into the grasp of a common tragedy. He also knows that he will not bury his bride before they are even married.

It’s only natural that the emperor grasps the front of your dress, the edges of the corset you tried to tie down to save some of your dignity. The fabric rips with ridiculous ease, all the gold spent on making it runs with the speed of a thread being torn. Suddenly, your front is exposed, even the underwear is not enough to conceal your privacy. König indulges in the view of your open skin, glossy from sweat and so, so delicious in dim magical light erupting from an artificial candle. He knows that he is playing a dangerous game, that not touching you now would be his greatest accomplishment and greatest torture at the same time – your body meant to be touched, you look like a doll and like a statue, like the greatest treasure and the most desirable slut he ever laid his eyes on.

The emperor is a man in the end – a war dog, closer to death than to the start of his life, a perfect incarnation of a horrible match to a young princess like you. Too wrathful, too arrogant, with more chips on his shoulders than the hair on your head, and yet, he holds you closely, putting you out of the torture device you are calling a dress.

You breathe for the first time in forever, and your mouth is shaking from unspoken tears and spoken pleas. He holds himself back from cupping your face in his hands and crushing your lips in a kiss, not because he doesn’t think he deserves it, but because you deserve better than to be fucked on the ground of his tent without proper preparation and some relaxing oils for your body. One kiss would never be enough for him, and he hadn’t touched a woman in far too long to handle himself properly now.

You look like you need to be ravaged – the greatest temptation König ever experienced.

— I can do so much to you, little princess. More than you could ever imagine.

— i’m not…n…not little. Your Highness.

— You are, compared to me. Should be scared, not snarky.

— I’m not snarky.

Just for this, he loses control – your voice, shaking with tears but never losing that arrogant edge, that delicious drawl that cannot be described as something that belongs to a princess, makes him lose all of the composure he had. König had prepared himself for a lady who would fall in his arms and cry the whole night long, he prepared himself for a fierce fighter that would try to kill him immediately – but you are soft and vengeful at the same time, too weak to resist him, but not too helpless to not run his mouth. You speak before you think, and it’s an adorable quality for a princess and horrible – for an empress. good thing you would be his regent, a pretty thing like you should never be annoyed with politics and mingling. König pushes you across his lap, his free hand is tearing through various skirts, and what is left from that awful strick construction you tried to pass as a skirt support. He never understood why anyone would live through this torture – you’d look way nicer in his shirt and nothing more. Or, even better, nothing at all, chained to a bed in his bedroom until he’d think that you are tamed enough to be shown in public.

You yelp in surprise, precious dumb thing. Just like a princess, you are not accustomed to the consequences of your own actions – you think that you can just run your mouth or do dumb things without his wrath falling upon you…and, little princess, you’re in for quite a shock. Your emperor doesn’t have enough patience for this, even though he did want you as his wife and knew what chaos it could bring. He just never thought that he’d have so much pleasure in looking at your adorable bottoms, all modest and long. Your underpants are adorably white, not stained from multiple washings, crisp and new – he feels the fabric with his fingers and almost thinks to not rip them away, just to appreciate the fine silks that went into constructing it.

His mercy is cut short by that sweet whimper of yours. You plead with him not to touch you – like you have a saying on this. König defiled the death itself, so why would he even consider such silly things as chastity before marriage? He certainly had enough women in his bed to forbid him from ever going to heaven, and robbing you of your innocence would be a small crime against all the countless sins he already committed.

But, he doesn’t want you to hate him – and you would, certainly, not in the fiery and passionate way he might enjoy, but a quiet, broken anger. He doesn’t want to turn this fragile thing into the broken shell of the betrothed princess, even if you need to be taught a harsh lesson – and you deserve much better than having your cunt destroyed on the harsh floor of his tent.

— You’re lucky, little princess.

He laughs, taking down your underpants – a harsh hand on your bottom, rough fingers that almost burn you without a glove to conceal his touches. You whimper when he lashes on the sensitive skin, stroking sensitive skin. If you knew how hard you make him, you’d run away with his horse already.

— How am I lucky? You…you killed the king, you destroyed my country, you…

— I killed your father, yes, but I left you alive.

— To make a show for your soldiers, I assume..

— If I wanted to leave you to waste, I would allow them to bounce you on their dicks a while ago.

— How d…

— You’re lucky because you’re mine, little princess. Not going to share you with anyone. But…

— But?

Your voice has finally gone down. he can almost taste the dread in your tone. König was burning down villages, destroyed his enemies with nothing more but a rusty sword and hatred in his heart – but he truly feels like a monster when he slaps your ass for the first time and sees your tear-filled eyes staring at him. God, he never was faithful, but hurting you feels like defiling an angel.

And he loves every second of it.

— You need to learn a lesson of respect, little princess.

It’s a small grace that he doesn’t make you count his slaps – he simply pushes you down, makes sure that your face is lying on his cloak, just for something soft to rely on, and gives you enough slapping to make the rest of horseriding as painful as possible. Maybe, it would teach you a lesson that if you need help, you’d have to ask him, to beg him for this – and not try to hurt yourself by doing it on your own. You’re awfully independent and resilient for the princess.

It took him at least five strong, harsh lashes of his hand on your rear to make you cry as loud as he wanted you to. He cups your face in his palm, forcing you up his lap – and smothered your lips with a kiss. König knows he is overstepping; he wouldn’t be able to let go of you after devouring your lips like that, but he doesn’t care, at least for now. He wants to be your everything, to push every thought out of your head and fill it with himself.

He adores the thought of being your first kiss, your first everything – you’re so inexperienced, so fragile in his hold. Never once thinking of himself as an appreciator of all the thighs dainty and artsy, he wants to worship that pout, your closed eyes, and little prayers of mercy you whisper between each kiss. Your body feels too enticing in his hands, a treasure he needs to keep all to himself. It’s a miracle he didn’t push your underwear down and took you all the way – as much as he wanted to touch you.

König smiled when you cried into the kiss, trembling in his hold like a caged animal. Never once he thought he’d have this much fun without taking some plumpy woman on his dick, but you are full of surprises. Another five smacks on your ass left you with a bruised bottom and tear-strained, wet face. The look of misery in your eyes made him cackle – god, you were adorable. Continue like this, and he’d spend the rest of his life with you on his lap.

— We will sleep now. The Empire borders are still days away, and you don’t look like you could handle the road right now.

You pout, pushing yourself off his lap. Even the hard floor of the tent was better, the cold fabric made your butt sting a bit less. You still couldn’t sit straight, still miserable, with a burning feeling in the depths of your tummy – hate, perhaps, that made your hands shake and your thighs feel a bit too wet and warm for your liking. There is a knot in your lower stomach that makes you feel weird, anxious, that makes you squeeze your legs shut as you push through the pain and get your underpants on again. The soft silks of the princess’s undergarments made you feel a bit better.

— I’d love nothing more but to run away while we’re still at my home, Butcher.

He smiles under his hood, pushing his hand on your backside. You freeze as he rolls you over, making you fit perfectly against his broad chest. He is a horrible, disgusting human being, clingy and warm around you – his bear-like hold is too strong on your limbs, making you freeze completely.

— I’m sure you are, Liebling. And I would love to catch you and spank your rear again.

— I will…you won’t catch me.

— Someone will. I’ll pay handsomely to any knight or wandering hunter to bring my wife back to me.

— I’m not y…your wife.

— Yet.

You turn away from him – try to, at least. He squeezes you against his chest makes you calm down in his hold like a wild cat he picked up on the side of the road. You don’t want to admit it, but he is warm, cozy, and even the harsh fabric he threw on the ground to make you a bed feels nice compared to the castle floors where you spend so much time. You still squirm, trying to find a good position to lay next to him without feeling like a toy in the hands of a grabby kid. König feels your wounded, perfect ass grinding against him – out of most of his armor, he can’t contain his erection now. Oh, how the strong emperor wished he’d have

— Stop moving, princess. Unless you want to consummate our marriage early.

— I’m not…I’m not moving.

— You are squirming. Is the ground not to your liking?

— I must prefer sleeping in a grave with my papa. — Can’t promise you this…but isn’t sleeping with the Death himself would be enough? — You’re not death, your highness. A blight, maybe. Or a plague. — You’re making me blush, little princess. There is a smile in his voice. You feel your cheeks heat up again, but you can’t say anything. Too many nights sleeping by the princess’s bedspot, always being the first one to greet her at sunrise and the last one to tell her stories before going to sleep. Like a loyal dog on the wooden floor, with a pillow under your cheek for comfort – all of her other handmaidens, precious ladies from good families, had their own quarters and rooms.

You had a cot by her bed and her endless affection.

Compared to this, sleeping on the floor of a rich tent with an emperor by your side isn’t as bad. You have to remind yourself that you are sleeping with a murdered, pillager, kidnapper and colonialist – you shouldn’t feel warm by his side. But, he hugs you like a lover. But, he buries his masked face in your hair and inhales your scent – sweet fragrances mixed with the blood and sweat of a long journey.

You fall asleep in his arms before you can think of something smart to say.

König doesn’t fall asleep until hour later – too busy looking at your precious form, wrapped so perfectly in his arms.

#cod #konig x reader #yandere konig #konig #cod x reader #call of duty #cod x you #konig mw2 #reader insert #yandere cod #male yandere #konig x you #konig x y/n #cod x y/n

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marvelsmylife · 1 month

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We’re going to be ok

Pairing: Azriel x reader

Plot: when word gets back to Azriel that you’re planning on leaving the night court after the kitchen incident, Azriel will stop at nothing until he convinces you stay and confesses why he’s been avoiding you.

A/n this is part two to Jealous Mate. I made a movie reference in this part. Five points to anyone who catches it and writes the movie I’m referencing.

*Correction* There are actually two references in this part. One is a movie reference the other is a book reference.

Part one

Azriel refused to be around you for two weeks after the kitchen incident. He was too ashamed that he just left without saying a single word to you. He knew what he was currently doing was making things worse, but he couldn’t face you after he heard you say you were giving up on him. It wasn’t until Rhysand called him into his office to scold him for his actions that he realized how badly he messed up: “Rhys, I know-.”

“No, you don’t know,” Rhysand cut Azriel off: “You avoiding your mate is causing nothing but problems within our inner circle. Do you ever plan on talking to her?” Azriel was so ashamed of his actions that he refused to speak.

Taking his silence as an answer, Rhysand spoke up again: “Very well. Since you won’t give me the decency to respond. Then this news I’m about to tell you won’t bother you.” Rhysand inhaled sharply before adding: “Y/n is leaving the night court. She asked if she could stay at the day court with Helion, and he happily agreed. If you’d like to say goodbye to her, you better do it fast. She’s at the house of wind packing as we speak.”

The color drained from Azriel’s face at the news you were leaving the night court. He couldn’t believe that he had driven you to not only leave the home you shared but also drive you out of the night court entirely. “You can’t allow her to leave !” panic was laced in Azriel’s tone: “She belongs here with us, with me. I’m her mate, and I’m not allowing this to happen, Rhysand !! !”

“She has free will. She can do whatever she pleases. Let her go and let her live her life in peace.”

Azriel felt his chest tightening at Rhysand’s words. He knew Rhysand was right, but he couldn’t let you go, not when he’s yet to tell you how he truly feels about you. “No,” Azriel said firmly: “I’m not letting her leave. At least not until I talk to her.”

Not giving Rhysand a chance to respond, Azriel fled to the house of wind to see if he could catch you before you left.

Luck was on his side. Your smell lingered in the house when he arrived and immediately walked towards your room. He had no idea what he was going to say. He was never really good with words. Not bothering to knock, Azriel entered your room and noticed that more than half of your stuff was already packed. “Can I help you?” you asked while you packed your clothes.

Azriel remained silent as he looked around and spotted something from the corner of his eye: “Is that?” Azriel swallowed hard when he noticed a pressed flower on your desk.

You looked toward where Azriel was staring and sighed: “The rose you gave me when I first moved in? Yes. Yes, it is.”

You were about to throw it in the trash when Azriel stopped you and took your hands into his: “Please don’t go,” Azriel begged: “I know I haven’t been a good mate, but I can’t let you go.”

“Azriel, don’t.” you said firmly: “You’re being mean.” There was hurt in your eyes when you registered what Azriel had said, and all Azriel wanted to do was comfort you. “You do not have the right to ask that from me. Not when I’ve tried to get close to you, but all you’ve done was push me away.” You tried to get out of his grip, but he only held you tighter. “Do you know how excited I was to meet and get to know you when we first met? I was so excited to share everything about my life and was eager to get to know you, but after the first week, you started to ignore me. I just wanted to talk, but you wouldn’t even acknowledge my existence while we live together,” you paused for a moment, trying so hard not to cry in front of Azriel but failed miserably. “Look, if you’re not going to put any effort into our relationship as mates, then I’m going to leave because being around you while you ignore me hurts me physically, mentally, and emotionally ! ! !”

It was Azriel’s turn to feel the way you’ve been feeling for the past couple of months, feeling rejected, and he’ll never forgive himself for making you feel this way for so long. “No! !” Azriel looked at you in disbelief: “I just- you can’t go. I’ve been avoiding you because I thought you were better off without me. You deserve better than me. I-” Azriel paused to contemplate if he should continue explaining. “I didn’t want to accept the bread you made with Cassian because if I did that would’ve meant you accepted the bond between us, and I didn’t want you to feel shackled to me for the rest of your life. But seeing you pack and saying you’re leaving makes me want to be selfish and tell you to stay. Stay with me and I promise I’ll be a better mate. I’ll eat whatever you make so I can accept the bond.”

“Azriel-“ you paused: “I didn’t and still don’t care about your past. You can’t allow your past to dictate your future.” Azriel knew you were right, and he was going to tell you when you continued: “Look, I’ll stay, but I’m not going to bake or cook you anything, not yet. You have to earn my forgiveness, and maybe then I’ll accept the bond in the future.”

“I’m ok with that. I’ll wait a thousand years if I have to, just as long as I still have you in my life.” You found yourself crying again at Azriel’s words.

Azriel looked down at you and wiped away the tears that were running down your cheeks: “No more crying, especially over me,” before he placed a kiss on your forehead: “You’re ok. We are going to be ok.”

#azriel imagine #azriel x reader #azriel x you #acotar imagine #acotar x reader

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coffeebeanwriting · 1 year

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The Darkest Hour for your Protagonist

Also known as the “crisis” or the moment when all hope is lost for your protagonist. The Darkest Hour is when your character hits rock bottom and that “happy ending” just seems unreachable. In this scene, success for your protagonist appears impossible.

What could be a Darkest Hour?

In my opinion, you want your darkest hour to be as dark as possible. Push things to the extreme, create stakes, and hurt your protagonist.

• Not just any death, but the death of someone your protagonist loves (did your protagonist fail to save them? They now blame themselves.)

• Not just a mild injury, but a serious and life-threatening one (does this injury follow your protagonist into the end of the story? Permanently?)

• Use their fears against them (if they’re afraid of snakes, don’t just have one appear... have them fall into a pit of them.)

• Make your protagonist lose all hope and put their insecurities on full display (they’re embarrassed and ashamed in front of everyone.)

• Attack their mentality just as much as their physicality. (Betrayals, lies, deceptions, self-doubts.)

When does it happen?

Typically, the Darkest Hour occurs right before the climax. Your protagonist is at their all-time low until they have an “a-ha!” moment and gain the hope, strength, or resources to overcome their conundrum and push into the climax of the story.

How does my Protagonist overcome their crisis?

There are numerous ways that your protagonist can trudge out of the mud and gain the strength to continue fighting. They could do it independently and prove themselves a true hero, pull hope from memories and past encounters, receive aid from allies, divine intervention, etc.

Why is the Darkest Hour Important?

The Darkest Hour is vital to a character’s arc and story because, during their all-time low, their true nature is revealed. Their insecurities, flaws, and fears are all out on the table and the readers get to see them at their most vulnerable. Watching them overcome the crisis shows the reader their growth as a character.

⭐ Show the readers how much your protagonist has grown. If this crisis happened at the beginning of your story, your protagonist would NOT have been able to overcome it. Only through their growth, learning, and plot experiences... are they able to overcome it now.

⭐THIS IS WHERE YOUR PROTAGONIST CAN FINALLY SEE THEIR MISBELIEF/FLAW.

During or after your protagonist’s Darkest Hour is an amazing place for your protagonist to realize the flaw in their thinking (their misbelief).

Referring back to older posts, your protagonist needs to have a “flaw” or “misbelief”. A false way of thinking that eventually, they will realize is wrong.

• “I’ll never be good enough.” • “Magic is wrong and I will never use it.” • “All aliens are evil and need to be eliminated.”

This misbelief should have been impeding on your character through the entire plot, causing them conflict and turmoil. After fighting for survival in their darkest moment, they realize they were thinking wrong all along.

• A character reminds your protagonist that they are good enough. • Your protagonist sees magic being used to heal their allies and realizes finally that it can be used for good. • An alien saves your protagonist from a bullet and suddenly your character sees that not all aliens are bad.

Instagram: coffeebeanwriting

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snowyquokka · 3 months

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sᴛʀᴇss ʀᴇʟɪᴇᴠᴇʀ

seungmin x fem!reader

requested by: @jeonginswifesstuff

cw: smut (duh) MDNI, hand kink, soft dom seungmin, oral *f receiving*, fingering, foreplay swearing, uses of ‘pup, bubs, pretty girl, refers reader as a pillow princess, praise, aftercare, established relationship

wc: 0.7k

✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧

“Hi baby,” Seungmin wraps his arms around your waist when he sees you walk through the door.

“Hey,” you mumble. He pulls back and gives you a questioning look “What’s the matter?”

“Nothing,” you shake your head. He rolls his eyes “Bubs, what’s wrong.” you let out a deep sigh. “It’s stupid,” Seungmin cups your cheeks, “I don’t care if it’s stupid or not. It’s bothering you so I want to know.” you close your eyes and rest your forehead on his chest. “I’m just stressed with work and school. I’m tired.”

Seungmin hums and picks you up by your waist and carries you bridal style. “What’re you doing?” you whine. “Min, put me down.”

He carries you to the couch in the living room and sits you down gently. “I wanna help you relax, baby.” Seungmin kneels in front of you with a soft smile, “Can I do that?”

You bite your lip and nod, earning a gentle kiss before Seungmin unbuttons your jeans and slides them off of your legs, throwing them across the room. “Mm, my pretty girl’s already so wet,” he praises before pulling your panties down with his teeth. The sudden cold air against your soaked core forces a gasp out of you.

“Just relax bubs. Tonight’s all about you, okay?” Seungmin has two sides when it comes to having sex: either he’s a really rough, degrading dom, or, like now, he’s a really soft and gentle dom. Though no matter how hard you tried, he’d never let you top him. He likes to call you his ‘pillow princess’

Seungmin spreads your thighs open wider, gaining better access to you. He slides one finger into you and kisses up and down your legs. You catch yourself watching his hand as he adds another finger and pumps in and out of you.

Seungmin doesn’t know about your hand fetish, not because you’re ashamed of it but rather because you really don’t know how to bring it up.

He looks up at you with dark eyes before licking and kissing your clit while his fingers are still in you. Your back arches slightly off the couch and your legs try to close but Seungmin stops them and places his hand on top of your thigh.

As he eats you out he periodically squeezes your thigh and every time he does, you let out the hottest moans he thinks he’s ever heard. He has also noticed you glancing at his hands every time you spit out some kind of profanity mixed in with a whine or a groan which boosts his ego.

He can feel you tightening around his fingers so he adds a third and takes his mouth away, arousal dripping down his chin. “Does my baby like my hands?” you immediately nod your head and moan. “Interesting,” he grins. He begins to rub small and slow circles around your clit while curling his fingers inside your cunt. “You’re clenching around me so much, y/n. Making me think you’d rather have my hands than my mouth, hm?” When you don’t answer his question he slows his fingers.

“Answer me,” he looks into your eyes.

“I- fuck, Min. Yes, yes. Rather have- rather have your fingers.” you cry out.

“Good girl, I think you deserve to come now.”

“Yes, please.” you beg. Seungmin picks his pace back up and rubs your clit faster.

It doesn’t take long for you to come. Seungmin cleans you up, licking all of your juices from your thighs.

He rises from his knees and tilts your chin, opening your mouth. You stick your tongue out and Seungmin places his cum soaked fingers in your mouth.

He watches in awe as you suck every last drop off of him and kiss his palm after. “Fuck baby. You’re so good for me. Let’s get you in the bath, yeah? Afterwards, I can make you some food.”

You nod gratefully and yelp when he picks you up without warning.

Seungmin chuckles and kisses your temple. “You at least feel better?”

“Much. Thank you, Seungie.”

“Anything for my pup. I love you.”

“I love you too.”

#skz #stray kids #skz imagines #skz scenarios #skz x reader #skz reader insert #skz reactions #skz smut #kim seungmin #dom seungmin #seunghands #kim seungmin smut #seungmin smut #snowyquokka #stray kids smut

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hentyehottie · 4 months

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‎✧ lovesick!chifuyu x hyperfem!bimbo reader : A jealous, pining Chifuyu finally gets the courage to approach you after watching you fraternize with Mitsuya ♡

black fem reader, chubby bimbo reader, reader is a fashion girlie! not really mentioned but chifu studies literature, semi-public sex (I think), kinda whiny reader, kind of a shift at the end. lovesick!chifuyu, reader is a maneater not a mean girl! (jk) Mitsuya & Takemichi make an appearance! There’s like one b*ji spoiler, standing doggy, slight choking, pussy eating, unprotected sex (wrap before you tap), excuse any mistakes, MDNI

author’s note: for my bby @prtttycocobuttvr 🫶🏾chile this has been in the drafts for idk how long 🥲 extra long for literally no reason, the bulk of it isn’t even the smut…the ending is so abrupt 😭 but I really needed this out my drafts

wc: 3.7k

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Every now and then Chifuyu thinks back to the day the two of you met.

He fucking hated you at first, he’s ashamed to admit. Was it really hate though? Could’ve been annoyance, jealousy maybe? A lil bit of both is what he’ll chalk it up to. It was love at first sight for him, meanwhile you never gave a second glance in his direction.

He started seeing you more as the weeks passed, the two of you had no classes together, but he still saw you around far too often. You smelled just like marshmallows or vanilla, something sweet that demanded his attention every single fucking time you strutted past him.

It became a routine—class, cafe and lastly the library where he’d find you doing anything but reading.

Once a quiet safe haven for him to relax with a good book, now overtaken by the clicks and clacks of you touching up your makeup, or the rustle of a potato chip bag while you sit there with your pink Hello Kitty headphones watching some Netflix drama, even the constant sucking and the jumbling of ice as you slurp down every drop of your boba coffee while waiting for your newest minion to finish your homework.

That day was supposed to be no different. You and one of your minions were heading to that same table, around the same time you always arrived. You looked so damn good too. You always did.

He was obsessed with your new hair color, black girl blonde is what he learned it’s called. Ash blonde with dark chocolate roots and it’s just so damn pretty he’s losing his fucking mind. Your face is fresh and bare, no makeup aside from a dark blackish-brown lip liner and gloss. Lashes full and fluffy, you must’ve gotten them filled over the weekend.

His eyes are trailing your every move, waiting for the glimpse of your backside that never came.

“Hiiiii Mitsu & friends!” You leaned down to drape yourself over the lavender’s shoulders. Chifuyu tries to keep his cool, brows furrowed and eyes almost as wide as saucers as he watched this strange display.

And friends? How fucking pathetic is that. Granted, he didn’t know your name either, often referring to you as “that pretty girl” when he spoke about you to Baji’s grave but fuck, that made him feel like shit.

It’s the first time he’s heard that cute voice of yours and it’s when you’re greeting Takashi fucking Mitsuya?? You guys seem well acquainted and it burns Chifuyu up inside, when the fuck did you two get all buddy-buddy? And what the fuck did Mitsuya have that he didn’t?

He wonders who initiated the first contact, wouldn’t be surprised if it was Mitsuya, he’d always had the confidence a loser like him lacked. He was also very good with women, unlike Chifuyu. Then again, you seem very bubbly and outgoing so it very well could’ve been you who approached him.

“Here are those fabric swatches I was telling you about. If you decide to use any just let me know! I have tons of rolls and I can bring you some yards.” You hand him a couple of squares of fabric. At least ten 4x4 squares that you took the time to cut and string on a little o-ring like paint swatches. So cute.

“Thank you, y/n!” He smiles. “I’ll surely let you know.”

Just like that, you’re heading over to your table, minion hot on your heels.

It’s a quick exchange, and it should’ve been harmless, but boy does it boil his blood. God, did you speak to everyone but him?!

“Y/N,” Damn, he learned your name, heard your voice and watched you diss him all in one sitting. It was insane. “You know her?”

“Yeah, we’ve only spoken a few times but she’s super friendly. She’s an exchange student from the states, a fashion major too, we have classes together.” Mitsuya spoke as he sketched out a few designs for a project.

“This would make a nice jacket.” He shows Takemichi the blush pink corduroy square for him to feel. “Maybe pants too if she has enough. It’d look nice on Koko, he’s my model.” “It would! It’s nice and soft, like velvet! Koko’s super pretty too, it’ll look great.”

He steals glances at you every now and then.

“Just talk to her dude, she’s literally so sweet.”

He doesn’t raise his head, still sketching away, but it’s clear who his words are directed to. Mitsuya has known him for quite some time, of course he knew how to read his pragmatic friend.

“Yeah! Unless you’re scared.”

He cuts his eyes at the crybaby blonde. Of course he wasn’t scared, just a bit apprehensive is all.

He looks your way one last time.

Your back is to him and you have your MacBook open in front of you watching a recap of celebrity metgala looks. You’re enamored by your fashion content, even taking notes in your cute notebook with your adorable pom-pom pen. You’re too oblivious—too much of an airhead in your own dumb little world to notice that simp eye fucking you.

Dude’s practically drooling while staring at your tits. It’s disgusting, enraging even. It boiled his blood, so much that he’s scooting his chair back to approach the both of you. Takemichi and Mitsuya watched him with careful eyes, since he didn’t say a word before he made his move. Fuck it, his pride was already shot and he didn’t have shit else to lose.

You didn’t even notice him at first, both airpods in, now staring into your hello kitty shaped compact mirror while reapplying that sticky beauty supply lipgloss all over your plump pout.

Before he could even stop himself he’s snatching up your homework sheet, scanning his eyes over this chump’s work. Wrong. Wrong. Most were either fucking wrong or incomplete! Complete bullshit and he was gonna let you turn that in?!?

“Get the fuck outta here.” He’s speaks so calmly, it’s all the more sinister.

The four-eyed geek is snatching up his bag and calculator so damn fast you’d think Chifuyu had a gun to his head.

It pissed him off so bad! But why did it piss him off so bad?

Probably because you’ve approached everyone but him as if he’s not one of the smartest people on this fucking campus. Probably fucked them all too, so why were you being so damn stingy with him? And why the hell was he so worried about it?

Chifuyu motions to sit down next to you, thighs spread with his hands clasped between them. He run’s his sweaty palms along his pants every now and then, trying to build the courage to speak to you.

You give your lips one last smack, capping your lipgloss and shutting your compact. “Hey, you’re Mitsu’s friend! Do you know where…nevermind. I don’t even remember his name.”

“He said he had something to do, I don’t know. Doesn’t matter.”

“Oh okay. What’s up?” You finally give him your undivided attention, dropping your stuff into your little designer baguette bag, turning in your chair until you’re facing him. You’re almost instantly entranced by those striking eyes, iris’ the color of sea glass. The dark locks of his undercut styled messy and wild. He’s cute. Real cute.

“I like you.” Chifuyu has never been one to beat around the bush, even though his heart was nearly beating out of his chest right about now.

“You don’t know me to like me, so if you wanna fuck me, just say that.”

You say it like it’s nothing. Must be used to it by now, constant fetishizing instead of genuine attraction. But the way he’d been pining over you was much deeper than someone who just wanted a quick fuck. You plagued his mind—his thoughts, all you.

He runs his tongue over his lips, not in a creepy way, but because he’s nervous and they’re dry. Either way you still notice it, it’s kinda hot honestly.

“I do. I mean I would, but I don’t want to-I don’t have to,” He’s stumbling all over his words and it’s fucking embarrassing. Word vomit, is what Mitsuya calls it, it starts and there’s no telling when it stops.

“Regardless, I wanna know you–I think you’re so pretty, I like your style, the way you dress and stuff. And I’ll do your homework, if you want. Or I can actually show you how to do it, cus’ if you turn this garbage in you’re sure to fail.” Chifuyu tosses out. He barely wanted to do his own, so why the fuck was he offering to do yours? Was he that desperate for your attention?

You’re twirling your hair around your finger, head tilted. You’d never had one of them offer to teach you, just always offering to do it just to be in your space.

“Hmmm..so you wanna be my tutor. I guess, but what’s in it for me?”

The blackette could feel his eye start to twitch, there’s no way you were serious. “I’m doing your homework and tutoring you for free, what the fuck else do you want from me?” He scoffs.

Greedy bitch.

“Boy please, I can have any of these other guys doing my homework. You obviously want something from me and I just wanna know what you’ll offer me in return.”

“I don’t want anything from you, I’just want you.”

You stare at him and he stares back, that adorable face of his morphed into a slight pout. He holds eye contact the entire time, it’s almost intimidating, but his aura is so light and genuine.

He’s a strange boy, you’ve concluded, but it’s intriguing.

“Why?”

“I don’t fuckin know,” He truly doesn’t know, you’re just a dumb girl he happened to see at school. Not the first and definitely not the last, but you’ve been on his mind since he first laid eyes on you. “But I like you, a lot. I’ll do whatever you want.”

He was infatuated and he didn’t know why.

You divert your eyes, tapping your puffball of your pen against the wooden table. “What if I want you to fuck me?”

There’s a pause, you look at him and he looks at you before he sucks his teeth. “You’re joking.” Even still, he feels the blood rushing from his cheeks to his cock.

“You said whatever I want.” He needs to make sure he heard that correctly. Was it a test? A prank? Because you’re obviously just fucking with him. “But if it’s too forward, we can just study I guess.”

He’s silent and so are you but the way he’s boring into your soul makes you wish you never brought it up at all. “You serious?”

You nod, batting your fluffy mink lashes at him and as lame as it sounds, that’s all it took.

Next thing he knew, Chifuyu was eating his crush’s pussy in one of the private study rooms. He’s almost embarrassed at how quickly he fell to his knees, eager to slurp on your pretty, plump cunt.

The library is old. One of the oldest buildings on campus, hasn’t been renovated since it was built. A private study room was the perfect place—just a windowless, concrete box where no one could see or hear you leaned on your back with your feet in the air while he sucked on your pussy.

Your clit is juicy and suckable, the pink nub catches his attention the minute he slid your panties down and spread your thighs open.

He’s used to keeping his face stuffed in a book back here, now he’d much rather have his face stuffed between your thighs every second of the day.

You’re a sight to see right now, tits spilling out from under your top, panties looped around one of your ankles and your skirt is flipped up and out of the way, away from the mess he’s making between your thighs.

He’s so messy with it, spitting on it and slurping it back up, licking stripes up your sweet pussy until your clit is peeking out of its hood.

“So good.” He breathes out, spreading you wider. From your hole, all the way up and back down again, his tongue leaves no part of your cunt untouched. He’s dragging up one last time before sucking your cute little clit between his lips, running his hands up and down your plush thighs and belly.

After a while you lean up and your shaky hands manage to pry those supple pink lips away from your clit, his lips leaving your pussy with a loud, wet ‘pop’. “Waittt, I never got your name.” You whined.

As if names, or lack there of, had ever stopped you. But you desperately wanted to know his and you wanted to scream it when you came—which would be very soon if he kept sucking on your clit like that.

He’s gazing up at you with those dazzling seafoam green eyes, silvery strands of your slick still connected to his lips when he pulls away from your pussy.

“Chif-fuck...” He’s huffing and puffing trying to catch his breath, resting his head on your thigh for a moment. Your hand is running through his hair, back and forth petting motions until his breathing slowed. “Chifuyu. Matsuno..Chifuyu.”

He rarely gave his full name, at least not to people he held no respect for. But you were different, he just knew you were. He’d never been this intrigued by another person since middle school when he met the infamous Baji.

“Chi-fu-yu. Chif-uyu.”

You test it on your tongue, wanting to get every syllable right. It makes him fucking melt, the sound of his name flowing from your glossy lips is so pretty. Fuck, he needed to hear you moaning, screaming and babbling it like a little slut. His little slut.

He wastes no time pressing his lips back to your pussy, licking thick stripes up and down, fat tongue relentlessly teasing your entrance and dragging back up to your clit.

“F-fuck how are you so good at this..” It catches you off guard. His head is sloppy and nasty, but not too wet with just enough teasing to drive you insane. It’s almost as if he’d been acquainted with your pussy before this, but you know there’s no way.

You barely notice how your body subconsciously rocks against him, rubbing your pussy up and down his face, your clit bumping his little button nose every single time.

Your question falls on deaf ears.

The once bright-eyed boy is now staring at you, his eyes alarmingly low and glossed over as he loses himself.

He’s too far gone now, lost in absolute bliss between your thighs—the taste of your gooey, sticky cunt, your moans, the feel of your thighs trembling. Pussydrunk wasn’t even the word.

He lets you use him. Lets his tongue hang slack against his chin for you to grind your puffy clit against it. His face is wet and sticky and he’s covered up to his cheeks in your slick. He can barely breathe, you’re rocking far too fast for him to get a breath in, but even still Chifuyu would eat your pussy until he was blue in the face if it meant pleasing you.

Every inhale is laced with your scent and it’s like an aphrodisiac. Everything about this was so perfect. He can feel the shivers running up and down your body—you’re close, he knows it and that’s when he gets relentless.

“G-nna cum for you baby..can I cum?”

Christ, the way his dick jumped should’ve been a sin. Chifuyu hums against your clit, groans his approval so his lips don’t have to abandon your perfect pussy again. You can feel every single lick & suck and even the puffs of air he breathes out of his nose as he slurps on your cunt, teasing your sensitive clit with the tip of his tongue.

“Oh fuck, I’m cumming Chifuyu. Mmm, I’m cumming. Chifu-”

Your climax hits you like a punch to the gut, knocks the wind out of you and has you doubling over with your hands tangled in his dark locks, your trembling thighs squeezing against his neck.

Your moans and pants are so sexy, he loves you like this. You don’t even realize you’re running from him until he grips your hips tighter, pulling you forward and holding you taut.

He’s desperate to drink up all you’ll give him, thick tongue gliding over your hole before he’s shoving it inside. Not a drop of your lovely essence goes to waste as you let him get his fill.

The chime of the desk phone startles you and forces him to part from your cunt. He looks at you and you look at him, you make no move to get it forcing him to.

“Chifuyu!” The librarian calls, he frequents this place so often that the two of them have gotten quite familiar. “Sorry to bother you and your girlfriend, but the library closes soon-“ She’s checking her watch. “In about ten minutes hun.”

“Ah, okay! Thank you Miss and she’s not-” When he catches the dial tone he places the phone back on the receiver.

“She says we have ten minutes until the library closes.”

Before he can even finish, you’re already on your knees shoving his joggers and underwear down in one swift move. His dick is gorgeous—thick with a pretty pink tip. You’re not sure about the size, seven maybe seven and a half inches. Either way, it fills your mouth perfectly, big and heavy on your tongue as you lick the precum dripping from the tip.

The minute he feels your mouth on him he nearly loses all control, knees threatening to give. Chifuyu grips your jaw, popping his cock out of your mouth with an audible ‘pop.’

He notices a dip in between your brows. A frown?

A pouty frown on your pretty face accompanied by a roll of your eyes. So cute.

“Chifuuu,” You whining his name is tearing him apart inside, staring up at him with those doe eyes. “We only have 10 minutes. I wanna make you cum.”

He’s pulling you back up, spinning you until your ass is pressed against his crotch.

“I know pretty…I’m gonna fuck you.” His voice is breathy, desperate. “That okay?”

It’s soft but he hears it. The soft ‘yeah’ tumbling from your lips, the small gasps of anticipation as you raise up on your tip toes to meet his height. He’s sliding his length through the junction of your thighs, coating himself in your slick.

It’s so good, this little crevice between your thighs and cunt feels like heaven. Like the warmest hug embracing him with every push and pull of his hips.

He has to force himself to pull away. He wouldn’t be able to face you again if he came from fucking your thighs.

Blunt fingertips melt into the plush flesh of your ass, spreading your cheeks to watch as he slides past the tight ring of your entrance, a loud squelch greeting him when he bottoms out.

You’re the epitome of enticing, a pretty bitch with a perfect pussy, and honestly he feels undeserving. He feels his infatuation for you growing deeper, except this is something he wants, no, needs forever.

He’s so gentle, stroking slow and stretching you out just right cus it’s a tight fit.

Despite the wetness dripping down your thighs, you feel every single inch of him. The burn of the stretch, the slight ache as he kisses your cervix with every clumsy thrust. Your pussy feels so good around him, like it was made for him. Made to take his dick.

“I didn’t—I didn’t think you’d be so b-big.”

Snaking his hands around your neck, he’s pulling you up so your back meets his chest, rolling his hips so the thick head of his dick mushes against the gummy walls of your g-spot. Your legs are trembling but he holds you up. Heavy breaths against your ear as his chin rests on your shoulder.

“Mmm, yeah? You don’t think much of me at all, do you? Think you’re too good for me?”

“Noooo! I don’t think that.” He’s not letting up, stroke after stroke, until you’re creaming all over him, and even then, he still doesn’t stop. “W-would never… think that.”

The thick white fluids settling at the base of his cock, the slick gush of your pussy every time he fucked into you. It was driving you mad.

“I don’t exist in your world,” Thrust after thrust. “But you consume mine, I want you so bad.”

Your brain is fuzzy, just barely able to make out what he’s saying. “I-ah want you tooo…y’know just h-how to handle me baby.”

“Yeah,” He breathes out. “Of course I do.”

You’re not sure if it’s the sureness in his voice or the sweet kiss he presses against the bare skin behind your ear that sends you over the edge but your climax hits you like a train carrying the sweetest bliss. You don’t utter a word, just deep breaths and pants, a quiet belt of his name towards the end as you melt into him with every buck of his hips. He feels it—the spasms, the trembling, the cozy warmth you coat him in, an impromptu reminder that he’s unprotected inside of you. Still, he fucks you through it, just until he’s close enough-

“F-f-fuuuck.” The groan rips through his throat as he reaches his end, the grip on your neck loosens as he pushes you down and spills his seed all over the cheeks of your ass.

He’s so unprepared it’s a shame, forced to use the inside of his turtleneck to clean the mess he made, even going as far as to place you up on the table and wipe between your thighs.

“Oh you didn’t have to- I have wipes..”

“No big deal, didn’t wanna dirty your skirt. You made this, right?” He rubs the hem of the frayed pink denim, recall’s seeing a square of this same fabric on the ring you gave Mitsuya.

“I-I did. How did you know?”

“I remember seeing you sketching it out. Glad it turned out nice enough for you to wear. It’s cute..” He trails off when you avert your gaze.

“Thank you. I’m glad too…” You trail off and you avert your gaze.

“Don’t go acting shy on me, y/n.” It’s the first time you’ve seen it, something akin to a smile on his cute little face, his eyes are as bright as stars as he stares down at you. It’s odd, almost as if the roles had changed.

“I’m not!” You whine. “It’s just strange, you’re strange Chifuyu.”

591 notes · View notes

sunarc · 3 months

Text

Rule Break

Synopsis: Nanami has one rule: never fuck a client. You may just be his one exception

Cw: trainer Nanami, semi public sex, reader is a big flirt, oral f receiving, fingering, unprotected sex, breeding,2.9k words

Nanami would consider himself a professional man. He knows his job can get a bit hot and sweaty sometimes, but he tries his best to keep his composure. He has a rule of his own: never fuck a client. It seems like a silly rule, but one would be surprised by how many trainers have had relationships with their clients. He likes to think he’s great at his one rule that is, until he takes you on as a client.

Something about you makes all the blood in his body rush to his lower half. You’re so beautiful, he whispers to himself each time you come in for a gym session. He’s never known himself to lose composure the way he does when you’re near.

“One more squat for me, you got this." His praise filled your ears as you lowered into your last squat.

“That’s it, good job” His clapping echoed in the half-empty gym as you finished putting the weight down.

You smiled at the tall, muscular man before high-fiving him. Nanami wouldn’t be wrong in believing you had an interest in him. Your eyes were always glued to him in ways he couldn’t really describe. The way you would lean into him when he showed you how to do something, or how you always stayed a bit later, asking him questions he was sure you already knew the answer to.

"So, Mr.Nanami, I was wondering if you could show me some more exercises for the legs.” You continued to explain how you wanted to strengthen them.

Nanami wanted so desperately to focus on your words, but his eyes could only seem to follow the sweat that dripped from your neck down to your breast. The zipper to your sports bra was down just enough so he could see how the fabric squeezed your chest. His mind was lost in thought, thinking of what it would feel like to push his length between them. He couldn’t help but think of how pretty they would look covered in his cum. Would you want a taste, or would you just let him cover you in his seed? Or maybe you’d prefer if he-

“Mr.Nanami?” You asked, titling your head with a faux look of innocence. “The leg workout?”

"O-ofcourse, I-um, yes, my apologies I have a lot on my mind today,” he excused his zoning out.

Nanami shook his head, ashamed at how yet again he had lost self-control. He was never like this, really. He almost wanted to plead with you to find another trainer. How could he possibly focus when his mind was constantly being plagued with thoughts of what you’d look like without your pink matching gym set.

His body carried him over to a leg machine. He took a deep breath, trying to gather himself as he set up the machine to show you how to use it.

“I’m going to teach you about cable kickbacks.” He began lifting his leg to show you an example, “Now this focuses on the glutes."

His fingers pointed to the muscle. His eyes watched as your gaze scanned down his form to his toned butt with a soft smirk. He’d just brush it off as your excitement for a new workout.

"Alright, you try." His voice wavered, and you could swear there was a pink blush covering his cheeks.

You followed as he did, replicating the exercise. His hand smoothed against your lower back, angling your body.

“You feel it?” His voice was deep as he questioned you. You nodded your head, too focused on the pain of the exercise to speak.

"Yeah, just like that." His palm pushed deeper into your lower back, while his other hand focused on holding your core to keep you steady. Your eyes met his, and you could feel his gaze shift from professional to lust-filled.

“Is that how you want me to do it, Mr.Nanami?” you questioned.

Anyone passing by would assume the question was referring to the workout, but from the look in your eyes, Nanami knew it had nothing to do with your actions.

"Yeah,” he breathed, his eyes still focusing on yours. “Just like that."

Nanami was very professional, but he’d be damned if he was going to miss matching your energy. You finished your last rep with ease. The tension in the air between the two of you was thick. The room was now empty, with everyone gone or preparing to leave.

“I guess our gym session is over. Would you care to walk me to the locker room? I have a few more questions before I go.” You said with an innocent smile.

Nanami nodded his head. Of course, he’d be willing to walk you. Any extra time he could get to spend with you, he’d take it.

You walked at a slow pace as you questioned him about what protein shakes he liked the best. Nanami had heard these questions before, but he’d be more than willing to entertain you for a bit more. You made it to the locker room and turned to face his tall figure.

“You did really great today, I’ll see you tomorrow for arms,” he said, giving a pinched smile before turning to walk away.

"Wait,” you called, grabbing his wrist.

He turned around wide-eyed

“I was wondering if you would be able to help me stretch before I go,” you whispered, suddenly feeling small at the advancement.

Nanami’s brain was wracked at the question, wondering if he should. What harm could a little stretching do? After all, he is your trainer, it’s a trainer's job to help their clients.

"Of course, I can help you do some stretches before I close up.” He led you to a room with privacy windows in the back.

The room was one you had never been in before. There were mats all over with a mirror wall. You picked up a mat and placed it near his own.

“We’ll start with a forward fold." He stood behind you with his hand on your waist while he guided your upper half downward. You folded into the stretch and pushed your ass against him. Nanami let out a low grunt before helping you to come back up. Your back pressed against his chest. You stared into the mirror, watching how he looked down at you with his lip between his teeth.

“What’s the next stretch, Mr.Nanami?”

His hands danced against your waist as he helped you maneuver through each stretch. Nanami’s breath grew heavier with each stretch. You seemed to be in a teasing mood today as you continued to press your ass against him each chance you got. Nanami didn’t think he’d be able to last much longer. The amount of pent-up energy in him was beginning to be too much to bear.

“Just lay down for me,” he whispered.

His hand dragged against your leg as he lifted it up and pressed it into your chest. He leaned his body down onto your leg to push you deeper into the stretch.

“I’m really flexible if you can't tell,” you giggled as you came face to face with him.

You were going to be the death of him. He could feel a bulge growing in his shorts, and he knew you could feel it too.

“How does that feel?” he asked, breathing in your scent.

You were so close to him. His eyes drifted down to your plump lips, memorizing the way your lips curved so perfectly into a smirk.

“It feels really good, sir,” you said softly. "Harder, please,” you were daring him. Your words were laced with nothing but pure filth.

Nanami leaned deeper into you, so close that his nose was almost pressed against yours.

“Like that.” His voice was nearing a growl.

He had a rule, one that he was willing to break for the first time.

“Just like that, sir."

Nanami silently asked himself for forgiveness because his next action would be very unlike himself. He leaned down and pressed his lips against yours. They were just as soft as he had imagined. You tasted sweet. Your lips danced against his in a hungry, passionate way. His hand moved to your waist, holding your body still as he grinded down on you. You let out a soft moan at the feeling of his clothed length pressing against your core.

“Fuck” he whispered as he pulled away.

You let out a whimper at the sudden loss of his touch. He stood up and covered his flustered face as he tried to make a gap.

“Your rule, Kento,” he breathed out the words to himself.

You sat up on your elbows as you watched him pace back and forth.

"God, you don’t understand what you do to me,” he groaned as he turned to you, dragging his hands down his face.

You sat silently with a smirk playing on your lips.

“You’re enjoying this, aren’t you?" He ranted. His nose flared up as he stared at you. "I have a rule, you know.”

You sat up on your knees to face him.

“We don’t have to call it breaking the rule.” You played with the zipper on your sports bra, slowly dragging it lower. “Why don’t we just call it a little after-hour stretching?”

Nanami walked over to you, closing the gap.

“Just some stretching between a trainer and his trainee, right?” He was making an attempt to convince himself; it was not a rule break. He’s just being a kind trainer and helping his client stretch in all ways possible.

“Just a trainer and his trainee,” you repeated his words, and Nanami kneeled to be at eye level with you.

His hand softly grabbed your neck, pulling you in for a kiss. It had only been seconds, and he somehow missed the way you tasted. His tongue slipped past your lips and massaged against yours. You were everything Nanami dreamed you would be. The kiss was something he wanted to relive for the first time over and over again.

He bit his lip as his heart pounded in his chest. His cock strained against his shorts. He wanted to memorize every part of you, from the way your chest rose as he squeezed your breast to the way your hips rocked back and forth, desperate for friction.

“Lay down for me, pretty.”

Wanting to please him, you did as you were told. Nanami freed his cock from his shorts, and your eyes went wide. He was big. You were almost worried he wouldn’t fit inside. He stroked his cock a few times before straddling you.

He pushed his cock underneath your bra and squeezed his length between your breasts. He let out a low groan as his cock squeezed between the tight space.

“Oh fuck baby,” his eyes fluttered shut as he inched his cock back and forth.

You let out a soft giggle and stuck your tongue out, swiveling around the tip of his cock each time he rocked his hips forward.

“You’re so fucking beautiful,” he groaned. “Taking my cock so well,” he breathed.

“You think you deserve my cock stretching your tight hole?” he asked.

You nodded your head as your eyes looked up at his dark ones.

“Use your words. Closed mouths don’t get fed.” His words were demanding.

“Please fuck me, sir. I need it so bad,” you whimpered. “My pussy’s so wet thinking of you,” your words died down into a whisper as if embarrassed by the lewdness of it all.

Nanami chuckled as he unzipped your bra, freeing your chest. He leaned down and placed your nipple between his teeth, nibbling and sucking softly. You chanted out soft pleas as his tongue swiveled around your nipple.

His tongue moved against your skin, sucking and kissing as he inched down towards your core.

“Don’t get shy on me, pretty girl.” His fingers curled underneath the fabric of your tights, pulling them down to expose your core. “You were just begging me to stretch you out.”

He placed a soft kiss just above your core. You sat on your elbows, watching as he methodically planted kisses around your heat, just barely grazing your clit. You felt shivers run through your body at the anticipation. His hand pushed your legs up to your chest so that he could get a good view of how wet the thought of him was really making you.

“Hold your legs up for me, okay, princess.”

His dark eyes looked up to meet yours as his tongue licked a long, slow strip between your folds.

“All this just for me?” His warm breath fanned against your core.

You let out a low mewl as his tongue flicked against your clit messily. Nanami was a very neat and well-kept man, but the way he was eating you out was the complete opposite of what you knew him to be. He messily slurped your juices. You turned away, shutting your eyes at the sound. You couldn’t believe how he was making you lose your mind. He dipped two fingers inside, curling them as he dragged them in and out.

"Aww,” he cooed. “Don’t look away. Don't you want to watch me make this pussy cream on my tongue?”

Nanami’s words made you feel as if you were about to explode. His fingers pressed in and out of you, forming a rhythm. Your legs trembled as you neared a release. His tongue messily lapped at your warmth as he groaned against your core.

“I'm so close, oh g-” You were cut off by your own moan.

Nanami’s fingers curled inside of you as he massaged a spongy spot inside of you.

"Oh, there it is,” he groaned.

You let out a loud gasp as your body shook from your orgasm. Your eyes rolled back as he continued fucking his fingers into you.

"Mmh, you're so pretty when you make a mess for me."

He pulled away and moved to meet your lips.

“You want a taste, baby?” He leaned down to press his lips against yours. You were still shaking from your orgasm as you kissed back weakly. He held your legs in place, folding you into a mating press as his cock dipped into your slippery hole without warning. You let out a gasp, but it was easily swallowed by Nanami as he continued kissing and sucking your tongue. His thrusts were long and slow as he allowed you to adjust to his size.

“Such a good girl taking my cock like this,” he groaned the words against your lips.

Your body was trembling as your mouth hung open, letting soft whimpers fall past your lips.

“This is what you wanted right?” He leaned down to whisper the silky words in your ear, “You wanted me to stretch you out right?"

His thrusts picked up speed, and you couldn't help the lewd moans dripping off your tongue. His cock glided against your gummy walls, leaving you speechless. He was taking his claim on you, making you his. No other man would be able to make you feel this good. He wanted you to remember this, the way his cock dragged in and out of you, the relentless pace of his hips slamming against yours, the way his warm tongue ran up your neck to your ear, sending shivers through your body.

“Yes, yes, yes,” you chanted.

“Then why aren’t you thanking me?” he growled

A string of thank-yous spilled past your lips. You were in a daze, stuck in obedience. He had you wrapped around his finger.

“There’s my good girl,” he cooed.

His cock felt so thick, spreading you out. Your mind was blurred, only able to focus on how his cock was able to reach places you had never explored before. He plunged his cock in and out of you, groaning at the sounds of your cunt squelching for him.

"Fuck, you don’t understand how long I've wanted this,” he breathed the words into your ear. “All those times I thought about sinking my cock into this soaking hole.”

His words were going straight to your core.

“I always thought about how badly this pussy needed me, how you needed my cum to fill you to the brim,” he grunted.

You squeezed your eyes shut, feeling yourself growing closer to the edge.

“Please, sir i- Please can I cum?” You whined desperately, pleading with him.

"Oh, you want to cum, huh? Go ahead, princess, make a mess for me. Show me how pretty this pussy looks cumming on my cock.”

Your orgasm flooded over you like a wave. Your body shook as your hands gripped onto Nanami, dragging your nails down his skin.

"Oh, that’s it, good girl,” he whispered as you trembled, releasing all over him. “Pussy’s squeezing me so tight, you ready for me, baby? Where do you want it?”

Your eyes rolled back as he continued fucking you through your orgasm.

"Inside, please," you slurred, barely able to think straight.

Nanami chuckled at hearing how out of your mind you were.

“My favorite place,” he dragged his cock roughly in and out of you, grunting with each thrust. He held your body close as he released inside, groaning at how you clenched around him.

He pulled out, smiling softly at the way his cum drooled from your hole. He stuffed his fingers inside, pushing the cum back in, before gently putting your clothes on. He held you softly as you calmed down, catching your breath.

“I think we may need to do some stretching after our sessions more often."

#jjk nanami #nanami smut #nanami kento #nanami x reader #jujutsu nanami #jujustu kaisen #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu kaisen #jujutsu kaisen smut

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cartierre · 9 months

Text

ANGEL BABY | lh44

SOCIAL MEDIA!AU lewis hamilton x male!reader

side note: i've never done a male reader but i hope you'll still like it. i figured it's not that much of a difference than to a female reader so i just gave it a shot.

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tagged: lewishamilton

theformulapod "I've been hiding my relationship for some time now. It's been hard for both of us and we felt like we needed to keep our relationship a secret for our safety. However, I think my fans deserve the truth and I should step up and open up about my sexuality. It's nothing to be ashamed of." ~ Lewis Hamilton

Lewis Hamilton talks about recent rumours regarding his relationship in an interview here on The Formula Pod! Tune in this Friday at 5PM to hear his side of the story!

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user1 i need a hard launch right now ⤷ user2 no but fr i need to know who stole my man

user3 is this my cue to tell men "oh so you're watching f1 because you're attracted to the drivers" ⤷ user4 don't put ideas into my head

lewishamilton so happy to have been treated with such respect from everyone on the podcast! glad i was able to tell my story in such a supportive group of people! comment liked by theformulapod

user5 if i see one comment disrespecting lewis i will find you and fight you

♡ liked by yourusername, georgerussell63, pierregasly and 973,273 others

tagged: yourusername

lewishamilton love is all around us

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user6 sir lewis that last picture oh my oh my

user7 we got the hard launch finally ⤷ user8 on my way to stalk his boyfriend's ig

yourusername i fear we might become the new it couple, look at us ⤷ user9 THE SASS I LOVE HIM ⤷ yourusername don't love me too much or lewis will get jealous

user10 naur i love them already

♡ liked by carmenmundt, lewishamilton, lilymhe and 120,345 others

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yourusername that's the shirt which made lewis fall in love with me (real)

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user11 he is so funny for no reason i'm so here for it ⤷ user12 the realness is so real

user13 lewis hamilton (y/n's version)

lewishamilton you're so unserious 😭 comment liked by yourusername ⤷ yourusername you love it tho

user14 such big dick energy ⤷ user15 honestly can't blame lewis for falling for y/n because same

♡ liked by 184,958 people

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f1wags Y/N Y/L/N on his way to the first free practice after the summer break. This marks his first public appearance in the paddock ever since him and Lewis confirmed their relationship during the summer.

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user16 lewis' money is showing ⤷ user17 they literally been together for years, i don't think y/n is using lewis for money

user18 blue suits him so good? ⤷ yourusername blue loves me 💅🏻 ⤷ user19 not the modern family reference i love him so much

user20 i love how he is now able to fully support lewis!!

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tagged: lewishamilton, mercedesamgf1

yourusername race weekend shenanigans

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user21 i love y/n and his funny shirt agenda

user22 hopefully we'll see y/n more on race weekends, whenever the camera was on him he was doing something funny ⤷ user23 literally born to be an entertainer

lewishamilton your presence made my dnf more bearable ⤷ yourusername you're getting all soft on me just like your tires

user24 i just know y/n's having so much fun with the f1 wags ⤷ lilymhe we love him!

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pinguwrites · 6 months

Text

Our True Nature | Tom Buckley

Pairing -> dom!tom buckley x student!psychic!reader

Summary -> You're different, you always have been; you've know that ever since you were a little kid who made your toys float in the air. Despite your great abilities you've pursued a rather humble life, looking for others like you. Your search comes to an end when you realize that your professor's assistant, Tom Buckley — the one you've been harboring a secret crush on — is a psychic, just like you.

Word count: 4.4k

Warnings: smut (minors dni), dom!Tom and sub!reader, age-gap (not specified, but reader is college-aged), praise kink, slight degradation, unprotected sex, semi-public sex, um superpower play??? telekinesis play??? I don't know what that shit's called, overstimulation, mild breeding kink, tom is wild and says dirty stuff, weird magic lore I made up (you can trust me, I used to write fantasy), mild hamilton reference ig, rough sex but not much emphasis on it

Disclaimer: Red Lights characters, plots, quotes, etc. do not belong to me and belong to the rightful owner(s). This is only fanfiction and this is just for fun.

When you first saw him it was like the world around you stopped. The rain that had been pouring down like a storm the entire day ceased its brutal assault, and in that week of dull weather and gray skies, the sun finally peeked out from behind the clouds and cast a heavenly glow around his body.

He looked like an angel. Dark hair caressed by sunlight, eyes as pale blue as a glacier, and the most handsome face you’d ever seen. It was all right there, across the parking lot of the university, just waiting to be seen. A god amongst humans, a flower in a field of grass.

But then the moment passed. He walked away, without any word or acknowledgment, like he never even saw you at all. It wasn’t until later on did you realize who this man was — Tom Buckley, your new professor’s assistant.

You supposed that was when the attraction started. You tried to kid yourself and say that it was actually halfway through the year when he started offering private study sessions, or when he made it a point to greet you good morning every day, or even when he insisted you call him Tom, but you knew the truth. You had fallen for him the second you saw him but were only too ashamed to admit it.

A god amongst humans.

It was a silly phrase you used to describe him. He wasn’t a god. Not even close to one. He was nothing like you. He couldn’t see visions of the future, or make a door open and close at his whim. He was just a person, a person you had a silly, undeniable crush on. A person you could not stop staring at.

He was currently leading the lesson today, showcasing a video on how a fake psychic used tricks behind the scenes to fool her audience, but you weren’t paying attention at all. Your chin was resting in your hand, and your gaze was upon Tom like he was the only thing that mattered.

You could barely see him in the poor lighting. The best you got was a figure and a shadow on the projection, but that didn’t deter you at all. All you wanted was to observe him, the way he moved, the way he talked, the way his hands would gesture as he explained the concepts students didn’t understand.

He seemed to notice your blatant staring, because after the video ended and he turned the lights back on, his eyes locked with yours, and he did what he always did: made you stay behind after class.

“Is something wrong?” you asked. It was a routine question. When the students got up to leave you would approach his desk, feigning confusion, waiting for him to say, ‘No, nothing, I just wanted to look over the assignment with you.’

You were sure your friends thought you were dumb. Why else would you need extra help all the time? but that was a much better assumption than the idea that you were fucking Mr. Buckley, so you never bothered correcting them.

“No, nothing, I just . . . ” Tom started but then trailed off. From this distance, you could properly admire the light freckles scattered across his pale face and took a moment to save the image in your head. When he continued, your attention snapped back. “I have a couple of questions.”

You raised an eyebrow. “Oh?”

“Yeah. Let’s go to my office.” He looked a little nervous for some reason. The walk to his office was spent trying to deduce why. Maybe something was wrong this time.

You sat down on one of the chairs by his desk. His room was filled with all sorts of odd things, namely technology used to disprove — or prove — paranormal activity. Occasionally, this material would be showcased in class, and he and Matheson would do replicas of former encounters to demonstrate how they worked.

You always paid very close attention to those days, in case you ever need the information in the future. How to Evade Ghost Hunters 101!

“What is it? Have I really done something wrong this time?” you joked, in an attempt to lighten the mood.

He laughed. A beautiful smile.

“Of course not, you’re my star student.” Your heart warmed at that. “I just wanted to test some things out with you. For the curriculum, Dr. Matheson and I were considering adding it to the course, and we want your opinion.”

You nodded. “That’s fine with me.”

“Good.”

He opened a drawer and pulled out a tarot card pack.

“We want to do a lesson on how pictures and symbolism can be manipulated to fit the victim’s life,” he said, shuffling the deck. “Tarot cards are so vague and general — The Fool, for example, represents new beginnings and adventure. Is that not the foundation of everyone’s life? To explore, to be inexperienced?”

You agreed. “And how are you planning on presenting this to the class? Give out a tarot reading to everyone?”

Tom chuckled. “I just want to try it out with you, to prove it.”

He held out the cards for you to pick, but you stopped him. “Aren’t I supposed to tell you what I want to know?”

There was a brief silence, and if you looked carefully, you could see a light pink tinge glaze over his cheeks, and his breathing hitch ever so slightly, his Adam’s apple bobbing.

“Don’t worry. Whatever you want to know about me,” you offered, amused at his reaction. “Tell me, what are you looking for?”

“I want to know your secrets,” he admitted. “I want to know what you’re hiding.”

“You’ll be disappointed. There’s nothing interesting about me.”

“We’ll see.”

You picked three cards and placed them down on the table. Each representative of either the past, present, or future, or at least, that’s how you were assuming he was doing the reading.

He turned the first card. It was The Star, reversed.

“Something in the past was bothering you,” he said. “You felt hopeless, like you had no more motivation . . . Am I right in guessing it was the result of something specific?”

“Yes,” you said. Obviously, his reading wasn’t true, how could it be? he wasn’t like you, but he was definitely right about the way people manipulated the symbolism. You doubted he knew the real reason why you had been so depressed.

He flipped over the next card. The Lovers.

He grinned. “I’m sure you can guess what this means. Are you in a relationship?”

You shook your head.

“Then it’s about a potential someone. You’ll find your complimentary, someone you can balance with — it could be platonic, or romantic, but no matter the type of relationship, they’ll be loving, and supportive.”

You looked into his eyes before returning your attention back down to the cards. Oh, how you wished it was him.

He turned the last card.

“The Ten of Cups. Your desires will be fulfilled. You’ll be happy, whatever problems you had in the past will be resolved.”

It was silent for a moment. You expected him to ask you questions of how accurate it was, and how quickly you connected his predictions to events in your life, but he didn’t.

“Do you believe in magic?” he asked bluntly. “The supernatural? You either do or you don’t, I can’t imagine you’d be wasting your time in this class if your opinion was neutral.”

You felt like you’d been put right on the spot. You thought about the right way to answer. “I believe in it, in the sense that I’m open about what we don’t know, and am optimistic about all the possibilities.”

He all but rolled his eyes. “C’mon. That was so wordy. I want to hear the truth.”

He leaned in closer. Your faces were inches apart, and you could feel his minty breath on your face.

“Yes,” you breathed out. “I believe in magic.”

He pulled away, satisfied. “I believe in magic, too.”

You quirked an eyebrow, amused. “Oh? Have you ever seen it in action?”

“Maybe,” he answered vaguely, a grin on his face. “Let me see your palm.”

You wanted to laugh, but you yourself was very eager to comply with his demands, not because you thought the experiments were interesting, but rather you enjoyed spending time with him, and the prospect of him touching you—even though it was only your hand—was thrilling.

Tom caressed the lines on your palms. He was distracted by it.

You weren’t sure what it was about him that made you so drawn. You didn’t believe in love at first sight, it was only something based on lust and looks, but this was more. You didn’t just like him, you found him utterly attractive, in a way that surpassed physicality.

It certainly wasn’t his personality. You thought you two were compatible in mentality, and you got along well, but he was rather boring. He wasn’t fiery nor exciting, nothing that could take you off guard or pique your curiosity.

He was intelligent. He told you he used to study physics, something you just had to respect him for, but you didn’t know that until just recently, and it’s not like his day-to-day actions showcased his genius.

You really didn’t know what it was, and a part of not knowing made it all the more mysterious. But it also made you feel vulnerable. In less than a year, you had become so hopelessly, irrevocably, in love with someone. He could do anything and you wouldn’t blink an eye. He had so much power over you, and he didn’t even know it.

“Can you feel it?” he asked softly, looking up at you.

You pulled your hand away, too flustered. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

He took your hand again, unrelenting. He gripped it tighter, encasing it in his warmth. It felt so nice.

“Between us,” he clarified, his voice low. He was gazing at you intently.

“What do you mean?”

“Are you like me?” he asked, his tone almost desperate. “I see you do things, impossible things. When you drop a pencil in class it floats back up to your hand, when your coffee gets too cold I see you wrap your hand around the cup and make it bubble. No one else notices, but I do. I see it.”

You froze, or rather, your mind was instantly filled with so many thoughts you couldn’t comprehend them all at once.

You thought you were careful with your abilities because up until now, no one had caught you. Not since you were a teenager who copied off others during a test, not since you got your first car and put it on autopilot so you could sleep during a drive, not even since you were a little girl who was too lazy to tie her own braid at school.

“T-Tom,” you stuttered. “I don’t . . .”

And what was that he said about being like him? Was he implying that he could do these things too? That after all these years of searching, you’d finally found another psychic?

Tom’s face fell. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have.” He chuckled nervously. “I don’t know what I was saying. Just forget it.”

He cleared his throat. You still didn’t say anything. It was like someone had pressed a mute button and you couldn’t speak, no matter how badly you wanted to say something.

“You should go,” he suggested. “Thank you, for all the help.”

He stood up, and you did too, mirroring his actions. He lead you over to the exit. “Have a nice day, I look forward to seeing you in class next week.”

You turned around, not wanting to leave yet. “Tom . . .”

He was about to close the door when you stopped it with your foot, budged it open, and leapt into his arms, placing a passionate kiss on his lips.

You didn’t know what you were doing. You didn’t know what you were thinking. All that you knew was that you wanted him. Badly. As you pushed your way back inside the room, you feared for a moment that he was going to shove you off, tell you he didn’t mean it like that, but he didn’t. He pulled you inside and lifted you up, your legs wrapping around his waist, and sat you on top of his desk, returning the kiss with even more intensity.

“Tom,” you all but moaned. You felt confused and dazed, but with the way Tom was nibbling at your neck, sucking and licking, you could tell he wasn’t in the same boat as you. You relaxed, letting everything go. You could let him take care of this—whatever this was. Let him take care of you.

“Can I take it off?” he asked in between kisses. He tugged at your shirt, fingers hovering above the buttons.

“Mhm,” you nodded. “Please, please, please—”

The buttons unbuttoned themselves. You gasped a little in surprise as your shirt was tossed to the side. That was all the confirmation you needed—Tom Buckley was just like you.

The realization that you had finally found another was lost when he started kneading your breasts through your bra. “Such a needy girl,” he cooed. “Didn’t know she could get like that. Doesn’t want to answer my questions but needs me to please her.”

“Fuck,” you let out, surprised at the dirty talk, but pleased nonetheless. “I just want you.”

“I know you do. Staring at me like a piece of meat in class. That’s all I am to you, hmm? Just a hot teacher to fuck. You tell your little friends about me?”

“No!” You whined when his hands went underneath your bra and pinched your nipple. “Ow! I’ve never told anyone.”

“Ah, I knew you were a good girl.”

You whined again and nuzzled your head in the crook of his shoulder, not wanting him to see how flustered he was making you.

“Pretty girl,” he murmured, unclasping your bra, watching your breasts fall out. “Beautiful girl . . . Can I suck?”

“Yes!” you said impatiently. You found it sexy that he kept asking for permission, but also annoying—he needed to get straight to the point, and stop teasing you.

He latched his lip onto your hard nipple, swirling his tongue around the bud, occasionally nipping on it. While his mouth was occupied, his hands were roaming your body, up to your face and down to as far as he could reach, which while you were sitting down, was all the way to your ankles.

He switched nipples and went to your other breast, making you release a sigh of satisfaction. He eventually let go and gave you another kiss, his tongue slipping inside.

You looked down. He was hard, subtly trying to grind himself between your legs. “Mmm,” he moaned against your lips.

His moan was wonderful. If not for your own pleasure, you wanted to continue this just so you could elicit another sound out of him.

In a bold move, you reached down and squeezed his crotch. He let out a sound, more strangled this time, and pulled away, a string of saliva connecting you both.

He placed his hand over the hand that was palming his cock, encouraging you to keep going, with eyes shut and nose scrunched up. He then moved it to lean on your shoulders.

“Do you like it rough or vanilla?” he asked. “I can do both.”

You tried to hide your grin. “Rough.”

He knew that by saying that you didn’t want it completely that way. The actions, yes, but you still wanted to hear him praise you, to caress you, to whisper sweet things in your ear.

“You sure?”

“Yeah.”

“Okay.” He picked you — handsome and strong — and laid you down on the couch. It wasn’t that large, but at least it was more comfortable than his desk, and you didn’t want to wait any longer by going to his place or yours.

“I want to let you know,” he started seriously, “that this isn’t a, uh, one-night stand. I don’t want that, not from you.”

“I don’t want that either,” you said.

“And I don't do this often. Well, I don't do this at all. With other students, I mean. You’re the first. I don’t want you to think that I’m just, how do you say it? playing you?”

You giggled. He didn’t seem like the playboy type at all. In fact, when most men and women flirted with him, he usually got all uncomfortable and quiet, a fact that boosted your ego, as he never felt that way around you.

“This is serious for me, too. Let’s keep it a secret until this semester is over. And when I’m out of your class we can make it public, okay?”

He nodded, and leaned down to kiss you again, soft and delicate.

“Take off your shirt,” you demanded.

He smiled at your behavior. It took a minute, because he was wearing his suit, but he managed to get it off with your help. You didn’t want to damage his clothing, it was probably on the more expensive side, and he looked so exquisite in it.

You admired his chest. He was lean, but you could still see some faint muscles. After all, he had carried you to the couch. He was perfect. It was just what you had hoped for.

This moment didn’t feel real. How was it that you had gotten so lucky? You were here with the man of your dreams, in his arms, and you were about to make love.

“Get on your knees.”

You did as he asked. You had done this a couple times before, so you weren’t really worried. You could even take cock all the way in, but when you saw his size, you gulped.

He guided your face to it. You licked the tip to the base to the balls, wondering how you were going to make it fit. You reasoned with yourself that if you couldn’t you could just use your hands for the rest.

That was, until he slid his cock inside your mouth and pushed it as far as he could. You controlled your gag reflex and started bobbing your head up and down, the sensation causing your eyes to tear, but not in pain.

He wiped them away. “Are you okay?”

You didn’t say anything, not with your mouth filled. You showed your answer by sucking him, fondling his balls, looking up at him through fluttering eyelashes.

“Ohhh, you take it so well. So well.”

He pushed your head all the way down, keeping it there for a few seconds. You breathed in through your nose, trying to keep yourself under control whilst still making the experience pleasurable for him. He seemed to like it, with the way he was rolling his hips against your mouth, even though there was nothing left to fit inside.

Then, suddenly, you felt something rubbing your clit through your pants. You tried to pull off of Tom, concerned at what it might be, when you realized it was him. He was the one doing it, making you feel this way.

He kept your head in place, a pleased smile on his face. “Like that?”

You moaned. You couldn’t concentrate on him, not when your body was being pleasured so good. How much practice had he had with his abilities? How could he focus when you were going down on him? It was probably the age. He wasn’t that much older than you, but he was older, and surely that came with more practice.

He pulled you off of him after a few minutes of you squirming and gagging, placing you down on the couch. He made sure your head was in a comfortable position before taking off your pants and pulling out his cock. Your pussy was still being rubbed, by whatever invisible force he was using, and it was about to make you come.

“I—I’m gonna—”

“I know,” he shushed, pressing his cock at your entrance.

“Let me make you—”

“No,” he growled. “I’m going to come inside of you. Don’t think, just let your professor handle it.”

You knew he wasn’t technically your professor. He was just the TA, but it was still sexy to hear him say that. It reminded you of your student-teacher relationship, the forbiddeness of it all.

You came just as his cock slid in. He sighed, feeling your pussy flutter and your cream leak out on him. He looked down, taking in the view, before pulling his cock out and slamming it back in, taking you off guard.

His pace was unrelenting. You didn’t know he could be so animalistic. He was panting and groaning in your ear, holding your body in place even though you weren’t going anywhere. He was still rubbing your clit — technically — but you didn't mind. You could take another orgasm. Besides, you weren’t sure if he would stop even if you asked. He looked so blissed out, like he was in another world, the only thing driving him his primal instinct.

“Gonna fill you up so good,” he said, increasing the intensity of his pace. The couch was now shuffling a little, moving forward a little bit each time, but Tom didn’t seem to notice. “You need it so bad. Just want me to take care of you, yeah?”

“Yes,” you cried out, rather pathetically. It was crazy to think how submissive this man could make you. You had never been like this with any of your other partners, but with him, you felt safe, like you trust him with anything.

“I can imagine — you in class, giving me one of those eyes you always do. Fuck — the other students don’t suspect a thing, but both you and I know that I’ll have you over my desk by evening.”

The thought alone made your mind whirl.

“I should fill your panties with my cum, make you walk around in it,” he said. That shouldn’t have aroused you as much as it did. He noticed your reaction. “Oh, you enjoy hearing me say those things? Those depraved, dirty things.”

He hit that spot in you, the one that made you go crazy, and you cried out, clutching his shoulders.

“There it is,” he said, mostly to himself, as he kept ramming that spot over and over again. The added sensations made you go limp in his arms. You could feel that familiar coil in your stomach, the one that told you you were going to orgasm again.

You threw your head back, looking up at the ceiling as you came, but your peace of mind didn’t last long. He grabbed your chin and forced you to look back at him, beating that same spot again, all while continuing the assault on your clit. “Look at me, I want to see your face.”

You looked right into his eyes, his beautiful blue eyes, and you could tell an orgasm was coming for him, too.

You felt a little ashamed that in such a short time he had made you come twice, and you hadn’t at all — at least, not yet — but like he said before, he didn’t want you to think, so you didn’t, and let whatever thoughts you had left bouncing around in your head leave.

“You’re wonderful,” he praised, kissing you again. He couldn’t get enough of it. Your teeth clashed briefly, but neither of your cared. He just wanted to taste you. “I can’t wait to be with you.”

With that, he came inside, filling you up to the brim with his hot seed. He kept his cock in, holding your hips in place, until he was satisfied and pulled out.

He laid on top of you on the couch, caressing the side of your cheek as you both recovered and took your breath.

It was silent. Just the two of you, in his office. You had finally found the one. The one you were sure you were going to spend the rest of your life with, all happy and in love like a fairytale.

“I didn’t . . . I didn’t think I’d ever find another,” you finally said.

“I didn’t either. I’m glad it was you. I’m glad it’s you I get to share this with.”

“Hey, what was with the cards? Were you just testing me?”

“Yeah.” He turned to face you. “I wasn’t sure if I was just seeing things. I mean, you get up so early and go to work, sometimes you just imagine a kid opening a door on its own or playing tricks with her assignments. I had to be sure.”

“So, you weren’t intending to tell my future?”

“You can’t actually do that,” he said.

“Yes you can.”

He blinked, surprised.

“I know you said the interpretation is very broad, but it still works.”

“You can actually tell the future?”

“Yeah. It doesn’t have to be with Tarot cards only. But whatever methods, I don’t do it often, I feel like it messes with things. But sometimes I just get these images in my head, and I can’t stop it.”

It hadnt occurred to you that even though you were both psychic, your powers, or at least, the direction you went with them, were different.

“If you weren’t reading my future, what were you doing?”

“I noticed that objects imbued with magic, especially artifacts, radiated energy—a feeling, one that only I could sense. If I gave the same impression on those cards, and you happened to pick them, it would either be a huge coincidence or it would mean you were drawn to them, albeit unknowingly. It was just something to give me more confidence.”

You weren’t aware that was something a person could do. You supposed there were plenty of things you didn’t know. You were looking forward to learning from him, and teaching him as well. You were both in uncharted waters, not knowing where this would lead you both. But it was okay, as long as you had him by your side.

You did worry a little that this intense connection you felt with him was only in an otherworldly sense, that you fell for him because of this magic, but you shook the thought away. That wasn’t true. You wouldn’t let it be true. You loved him and he loved you—and that was it. Nothing more.

“I can do another round,” he said suddenly. “You?”

You grinned and nodded. “Yeah. But this time, I want to ride you.”

He laughed and flipped you both over so that you were on top of him. “Show me how you get off, babygirl.”

Taglist:

@henrywintersdearestgirl

@shroombloom-rry

@meetmeatyourworst

@mrkdvidal1989

#pinguwrites #tom buckley #tom buckley x reader #tom buckley x y/n #tom buckley x you #cillian murphy #red lights #fanfiction

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kiss-theggoat · 10 months

Text

Over the Phone

Billy Lenz x Reader

Word Count: 1.6K

Summary: You and your Sorority sisters have been receiving some pretty scary phone calls, but you’re too embarrassed to admit that you don’t hate answering them.

Warnings: Billy is nasty, Lewd language, Smut, Mutual Masturbation, Billy refers to reader’s female anatomy and female anatomy is used but no pronouns

Ah, Christmas. The most wonderful time of the year, especially in this cozy home. You’d never seen so many twinkle lights, strings of garland, or pieces of mistletoe in one area. All of the sisters really went all out this year, and you couldn’t be happier.

With a record in the background playing Rockin’ Around the Christmas Tree, you hummed along to the tune while grabbing the hot tray out from the oven. Your sugar cookies had become tradition, and you really liked making them for you and your sisters. The low lighting of the kitchen, illuminated by red and green bulbs along with a few candles on the dining table really set the festive mood, and your heart swelled with Christmas spirit.

You spent nearly an hour frosting snowmen, snowflakes, candy canes, little trees, and a couple reindeer. Hunched over the counter with a bag of frosting in your hand, hair a mess and a smear of blue frosting on your right cheek, you suddenly heard a commotion coming from outside the kitchen. You groaned, as you were nearly done frosting, but wanting to see what was going on in the living room.

The piping bag thudded against the counter as you plopped it down, licking some frosting from your finger.

“What’s going on?” You asked, walking into a circle of sorority girls. They were surrounding Jess, who looked sufficiently upset and had the phone pressed against her ear. Once you saw this you knew. She was on the phone with “The Moaner” as you and the girls so affectionately dubbed him. A creep who’d been prank calling the house for the last couple of weeks, and boy was he vulgar. At first everyone thought it was just a frat house that was messing around, but it’s been going on for months, and the phone calls are getting worse and worse. Bad to the point where you know none of the frat guys are doing it. Or, if they are, you could probably get them in huge trouble.

Jess held up a finger in a shushing motion to quiet Barbara, who was practically yelling at the man on the phone. She liked to antagonize him. You could hear the man’s voice over the phone, and only then you realized how loud he must be talking. Jess scrunched her face in disgust. You knew she hated taking the obscene calls, so you held your hand out to her. She placed the receiver in your hand, and reluctantly, you held the speaker up to your ear. The girls around you waited anxiously for your reaction, and immediately your cheeks went red.

“Piggy cunt, you want my fat cock...I'll stick my tongue up your pretty pussy.”

You were flustered. The feeling that rose to your chest was not entirely unpleasant, and you felt a teensy bit ashamed about the fact you didn’t hate what the man was saying to you. I mean, the term ‘piggy’ was a little strange, but the rest made the butterflies in your stomach bounce off the walls.

You cleared your throat, trying to play it cool. “Who…w-who is this?”

“Suck on my juicy cock! I'll come over…I'll come over and you can…you can suck it. Suck it! Okay?”

The man sounded frantic, yelling loud in your ear. Suddenly, Barb snatched the phone from you.

“Why don’t you call Lambda Chi, they could use some action, creep.” She slammed the phone down hard, holding her drink and cigarette in the other hand. “Just ignore him next time. It’s annoying having to talk to him!”

You stood there, frosting still smeared on your face as you listened to everyone walk away from the phone, arguing with an increasingly drunk Barb. You decided to let it go for now, walking back towards the kitchen.

Half an hour later, your cookies were done and served to your sorority sisters. They lay out on the table in the living room next to three empty cups that once held cold milk. It was later at night now, and only you, Barb, and Jess sat downstairs. Everyone else had gone to bed. The music had been turned down and you flipped through a novel, cuddled up with a quilt and legs swinging over the side of an armchair.

You swore you felt your heart drop when Barb jumped up out of nowhere, still holding a half smoked cigarette away from her face. “Oh…” she groaned, hand on her stomach. “I’m gonna spew…”

She walked quickly towards the bathroom. You and Clare made eye contact, dreading who had to go help her this time.

You held your hands up in defense, pages fluttering. “I cleaned her puke out of Phyl’s sweater last time, you’re it.”

Clare whined as she stood up, throwing her textbook and notebook down back onto the couch. “Fine…” and off she went.

You were happy to be in peace now, reading by the light of the dying fire and the colorful lights hung around the room. The tree in the corner made your heart happy, so you always sat facing it.

Ring Ring.

You muttered a few cuss words at being interrupted again, but during the holiday season, phone calls were important. Usually from family or friends wanting to make plans with someone. Your socks slid on the hardwood as you nearly slipped standing up, book being slammed down on the table.

“Hello?” You said, sounding more unfriendly than you meant to. After all, it was nearly midnight. Who was calling the house at this time?

“Pretty piggy cunt! Billy wants to lick it, wants to touch it.”

You sighed, leaning against the cabinet the phone laid atop. Your brain said to hang up and just leave the phone off the hook, but your body told you to listen to this man, which is apparently named Billy. What’s he saying now? You tried to decipher but instead of words…he was just moaning now. A deep silky voice, usually aggressive and loud was now soft and breathy with soft whines every once in a while. The sound of his moans immediately made you perk up, heat pooling in the base of your stomach.

“Pretty piggy suck on my cock…” he moaned, louder this time in the receiver.

You bit your lip and pulled on the cord in order to check your surroundings. The hallway was clear, and so was the living room. You turned around…so was the kitchen. Barb and Clare must still be in the bathroom, and everyone else was in bed. You decided you were safe to indulge a little. No one would find out, right?

A shaking hand trailed down the center of your chest and down to the button of your jeans. With one hand you popped it open and slid down the rest of the way, nestled inside your underwear. You decided to be a little brave.

“Billy…” you said quietly. “It is Billy, right…?”

A loud moan on the other end of the line confirmed your question. “Wanna fuck pretty piggy cunt.” He growled. Your lips parted as you rubbed circles over yourself, pleasure running through your whole body. This guy had really gotten you hot and bothered.

“I’m going to touch myself, Billy.” You whispered, eyes locked on the hallway that the bathroom was in. All the sound on the other end stopped, and so did you, tensing up. You were suddenly horrified and humiliated, what if this actually was just some stupid frat guy carrying on a joke too long? What if it’s one of the sister's boyfriends and you’d just revealed the fact that you were going to get off on the phone with a stranger?

Your fears were eased when you heard shuffling, and then loud moans once more. Growls and squeals broke up his moans, reminding you he was still nuts, but you didn’t care. There was, however, a new sound. A wet slapping sound on the other end made your stomach erupt with lightning bolts. He was touching himself too. Your fingers moved faster, deftly circling your clit in desperation. You hunched over the cabinet, elbows aching from the pressure.

“Pretty cunt…wet piggy pussy, Billy wants…”

You closed your eyes before remembering to stay on guard, grip so tight on the phone you were sure it’d snap. Without realizing, a few whimpers and pants slid from between your lips despite how hard you tried to clamp them shut. You clenched your thighs and laid your head against the wood, pushing the receiver closer to your ear, hoping somehow you could magically make him even louder, loud enough to fill you completely.

Already, you were close, and from the way he was whining and whimpering on the other end, he was too. You started to cum, dropping the receiver on the cabinet and slapping a hand over your mouth, legs shaking and clenching together as you writhed, struggling to stand up. Billy’s moans filled your ear on the other side, and you both went silent and still at the same time. You laid against the cabinet, taking deep breaths and trying to be as quiet as possible.

Billy hung up the line, more concerned with how beautiful you looked illuminated by the Christmas lights. Or, at least he thought so, from the hole in the ceiling he watched you through.

#slasher x reader #slashers #horror movies #black christmas #billy lenz #billy lenz x reader #billy lenz x y/n #billy lenz x you #slasher x y/n #slasher x you

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wildflowerluver · 1 year

Text

petals of a flower

emily prentiss x fem!reader

5 times the team suspects emily has a girlfriend and the 1 time it gets confirmed

cw: fem!reader, she/her pronouns, reader is referred to as girlfriend, homophobia, case details involving homosexual couples, slight injuries

wc: 3.4k

༺♡༻

emily prentiss is a mystery when she first joins the team.

garcia digs up the standard: parents, place of birth, etc. but the team doesn’t really know her.

they learn a lot about her as she settles into her position over the months. her high school emo phase had been a highlight.

but there was one part of emily’s life the team still didn’t know about.

her sexuality.

it’s not that emily’s ashamed, not in the slightest. she’s just nervous about the response. the bau team is her family and she doesn’t want to lose that.

any girls night or dinner with the team where partners get brought up, emily does everything in her power to change the topic. she’s simply not ready. she’s not ready to tell them about you.

you’re emily’s favorite person. the best girlfriend she could ask for.

she just isn’t ready for her two worlds to collide.

1. flowers

a bouquet of flowers sits on emily’s desk when the agent arrives for work. they’re white lilies, wrapped delicately in brown paper and secured with a thin piece of string. a card is tucked in the top.

“uh oh,” derek muses from his own space. “someone has a secret admirer!”

not secret to her. they’re the ones who don’t know about the sender.

emily stands in front of the bouquet, hiding the card under a folder on her desk. if anyone saw the note, they would demand for her to read it outloud.

“you know white lilies in particular are a popular funeral flower,” spencer jumps in with a fact.

“come on, pretty boy. it’s a romantic gesture. no need to drag down the mood.”

“actually morgan they’re used in weddings too. mainly christian ones but still they’re-”

“reid!”

the sound of derek and spencer’s arguing is drowned out as emily brought the flowers up to her nose.

soft and sweet.

she didn’t even need to read the card to know who they were from.

you had first pointed out white lilies when on your first date with emily.

it was when you were walking downtown after dinner. vendors had set up outside in the shopping district including one of the floral shops.

emily had stopped you in front of the bins of flowers. “which ones are your favorite?”

you didn’t have to think for very long. “white lilies,” you answered honestly. “they represent rebirth and purity.”

she hummed a noise of content beside you.

you reached into your bag to pull out your wallet, quickly grabbing the right amount of cash and handing it to the florist who sat outside.

“to new beginnings,” you beamed, offering the pre-wrapped flowers to emily. her cheeks turned a rosy pink, a stark contrast to the white petals.

she kissed you for the first time that night.

ever since then, white lilies have become your mutual flower.

“any idea who they’re from?”

that’s j.j. who asks after walking over to her with a stack of papers.

“no idea.”

emily hides her smile in the petals.

2. minimal loss

there’s a small group waiting in the quantico parking lot.

it’s late. the lights only illuminate a small section of the space.

you’ve never picked up emily from work after cases. you hadn’t even been near quantico before today. but, this case was different.

emily let you know in advance she was going undercover. it wasn’t supposed to be for long, just enough time for her and her coworker reid to investigate an underground cult in colorado.

it was hard to avoid the details of the case when every news station in the country was reporting on it.

you were cleaning around your apartment and had the news on as background, mostly to just hear the weather report. it had switched to live footage from colorado. your stomach dropped when you remembered that’s where emily was.

“this is a special report from la plata county, colorado.

we're reminded of jim mckay's words from munich– our greatest hopes and our worst fears are seldom realized.

let's hope it's not the latter as we wait to hear the fate of the women, children, and f.b.i.agents inside the building.”

an explosion.

you covered your mouth, stomach churning at the site. emily was inside. oh my god, emily.

you sent a long string of texts; hoping, begging, praying that she was alive.

when your fun buzzes hours later, you race to see what the message is. it’s from emily. she was okay, a little shaken up but okay.

tears well in your eyes. you knew her job was dangerous but this was the closest you had ever gotten to losing her. you offered to pick her up when she landed and she agreed without hesitation.

there were a few other cars in the lot when you arrived.

they had parked relatively close to each other. you stayed a ways away. you didn’t know these people and without talking to emily, you didn’t want to introduce yourself.

they looked familiar but you didn’t quite recognize them. there was a blonde woman and a young boy, another blonde woman with bright accessories, and then a man. who on emily’s team had a kid?

you sat on top of the hood of your car, picking at the skin around your nails as you waited.

it didn’t take long, nor was it difficult to spot the team when they arrived; two black suv’s pulled in one after the other.

you slid down the hood to stand up straight. you need to see her, make sure she was okay.

the team offloaded at once, each member getting out of the vehicle and distributing their luggage.

all eyes went to emily as she stumbled out of the car and hastily grabbed her bags. she had gotten hurt on this case, it was no secret everyone wanted to check up on her. she didn’t say anything before she headed in the direction of the car that was parked slightly away from the rest.

they couldn’t exactly make out the features of the person standing beside it but the way emily walked told them they were someone important.

you surged towards her when she was close enough, taking her face in your hands.

“oh em,” you breathed out, voice wavering with tears.

“i’m okay,” she promised, thumb wiping away the tears that fell.

emily pulled you into her, hand cradling your head as you cried. she knew this was a lot more scary for you than it was for her.

though the team had dispersed to greet their respected family members, no one failed to see the scene unfolding in the distance.

you hugged each other like you would never be able to again.

they all knew that emotion like that wasn’t platonic.

3. ring

a long weekend typically warrants news from some bau member.

whether it’s about a goal jack scored in soccer or a new house derek had renovated, people always seemed to have something going on.

emily sat at her desk and she scribbled away at files. one hand gripped the pen while the other sat on her knee. she twisted a band that sat on her left ring finger. it wasn’t an engagement ring but she liked wearing it on the one finger that connected to her heart.

atop the small gold band sat a gemstone, the one to match the month of your birth.

you had gotten the ring when on a trip. a shop you visited had sold them and you picked out one as a gift. as cliche as it was, you thought of it as a promise ring.

despite emily not being a huge jewelry person, she wore it every day.

the bullpen was a comfortable quiet. other members of the team sat at either their desks or in their office and worked away. the silence made it easy to focus.

a sharp gasp sounded behind her.

penelope had entered the bullpen, presumably to say hi under the false assumption she needed another cup of coffee. both of her hands had covered her mouth, effectively covering her shocked expression. “what is that!”

emily quirked her eyebrow at what the tech analyst was talking about. she was just at her same old desk doing the same old paperwork. she finally saw penelope’s line of vision and followed it down to her hand.

oh. it did kinda look like an engagement ring.

it wouldn’t be the most surprising thing in the world for someone to come back engaged after a long weekend, even if no one had been aware of their relationship.

emily barely had any time to answer before derek was circling his desk to find the source of the commotion.

“what’s all the yelling for?”

“emily has a ring. she has a ring, derek!”

derek’s eyes too fell on her hand. “woah princess! you’re getting hitched and didn’t tell us?”

“who’s getting married?”

the entire team, minus hotch and rossi who remained behind closed doors, had circled emily.

“you didn’t tell us you were dating someone!”

emily held her hands up to silence the group. “guys, guys. it’s not an engagement ring.”

a collective sigh echoed.

“it’s just a ring with my birthstone in it. my parents got it for me when i was younger and i found it when cleaning over the weekend.” emily doesn’t feel guilty for lying. it was a simple white lie, not something detrimental.

the explanation seems to suffice the group who then begins to disperse.

spencer is the only one who picks up that emily’s birthstone is an opal.

and an opal is not the gem on the ring.

4. home

nobody thinks much of it when emily neglects a saturday hang out in favor of having some personal work to get done.

derek, penelope, and j.j. all get together instead.

the girls drag derek around to a few shops they want to go to before penelope stops at a window with a gasp. “oh my god, look! that mug looks exactly like the one emily broke. we have to get it.”

there was no stopping the tech analyst who had a killer memory. it wasn’t false. emily had smashed her favorite mug earlier in the week accidentally and moped for days.

“we should surprise her! she said she had some personal stuff to do so she’s definitely home.”

derek shrugs. “i don’t know, baby girl. she probably doesn’t want to be bothered.”

j.j. digs around in her purse before pulling out a folder. “i did have to drop off her medical forms for her to sign.”

“you two have no boundaries.”

penelope is the one to knock on emily’s apartment door. she’s practically bursting with excitement. she loves her team and knowing how upset emily was over the mug, she can’t wait to give it.

you’re sitting on emily’s couch when there’s a knock at the door.

the two of you haven’t officially moved in together yet, though more times than none you’re at hers. the lease on your own apartment isn’t up yet though once it is, you and her will finally be living together.

saturdays where emily is home are semi-rare. cases often stretch into weekends. she’s thankfully home today, though a few chores around the home dominated her to-do list. she worked upstairs while you relaxed on the couch.

you were slightly confused as to who would be at the door.

“can you get the door, baby?” emily called from upstairs.

“got it!”

you trudged towards the entrance, sliding the peephole cover to the side to peer out. three people stood outside, two women and one man. they looked familiar. you had definitely seen them before.

the picture emily kept of her team on the wall flashed in your memory. that and the time where you had picked her up at quantico. oh, they were members of her team.

you finally opened the door. it was slightly amusing to see the three agents' faces twist in confusion when it was in fact not emily answering the door.

“can i help you?”

none of the three speak for a few moments. they’re clearly trying to rack their brain as you looked familiar to them too.

“oh, um, yes!” the woman with colorful accessories stutters out. “is emily here?”

you open the door a little wider, motioning with your head for them to come in. once the door is closed, you leave them in the entranceway and head in a bit further.

“em!” you call up the stairs. “people are here for you!”

there’s a distance thud. “coming!”

you figure whatever they need to talk about is none of your business. when emily comes downstairs, you smile softly at her. “i’ll leave you all alone. i’ll be upstairs.”

you squeeze her shoulder when you walk by and within a minute, you’re out of sight.

“not to sound rude but why are you guys here? is the team okay?”

derek nods his head. “everything’s good, princess. though i have to ask, who was that?”

emily doesn’t have an excuse. referring to you as ‘just a friend’ feels wrong. plus, she hasn’t discussed if you’re ready for her team to know either. she then notices the package in penelope’s hand.

“what’s that?”

the original question gets blocked out by penelope’s squeal and presentation of the gift.

derek and j.j. share a look. penelope’s not a profiler, she doesn’t pick up on some things, but emily’s deflection tells the agents all they need to know.

they stay quiet, though both of their hearts soar.

no wonder emily has seemed so happy.

5. case

emily’s not one to let her emotions impact a case.

she has a routine to prepare herself: kiss you goodbye, tell you she loves you, go to quantico, read the case, familiarize the victims, solve the case. all in that order.

this one throws her off.

lgbtq couples murdered in their cars, all wearing formal clothing presumably from their date.

emily’s mind immediately goes to you and her. though this case is states away, the unsub doesn’t have a much different mindset than a lot of people.

she internalizes it as best she can, wanting to perform at her best to help solve this case before more people die. it works at first. emily’s able to go to the crime scene, distinguish evidence, and build a profile with ease. that is until two more bodies are discovered.

and one of them looks like you.

j.j. pins the pictures on the board and emily’s stomach drops. she knows it’s not you. you’re miles away and you had just texted her a few minutes ago with a picture of the coffee you had gotten. but the internalized fear is very much present.

theories bounce around the room. why were these two targeted? sexuality aside, what about them was attractive to the unsub?

emily’s throat goes dry. she can’t do this anymore.

“hotch, can i talk to you?”

the room goes quiet. hotch’s eyes flicker back and forth from rossi to j.j. before going back to emily. “of course.”

emily doesn’t stop at an empty conference room. there’s plenty in the precinct and yet they end up outside. emily sits on one of the steps and begins to toy with the ring on her finger.

hotch takes a seat beside her.

“hotch i need to be pulled from this case.”

emily’s surprised she’s able to say the full sentence without breaking down.

“okay,” he begins slowly. “can i ask why?”

internally, hotch knows. he picked up on emily’s behavioral change from the second the case got presented.

“hotch, i-” the words seem to get lost on the tip of her tongue.

she shoves her palms into her eyes. she's flustered, embarrassed, scared.

she should be able to do her job. cases don’t usually get to her. it’s difficult to not feel helpless.

a hand moves to rest on her shoulder.

“it’s okay you know.”

he doesn’t need to finish. what he’s implying is obvious.

the tears brimming in emily’s eyes spill over hot and fast.

hotch moves closer to her, arm circling around her. all superiority dynamics have faded. it’s friend to friend, a moment of vulnerability.

emily’s felt more accepted from his four words than she has in years.

+1 meeting

emily always goes into work before you.

between her commute with traffic and desire to get there a bit early, she’s up and running before you even get out of bed.

naturally, you like to help her out as much as possible.

it comes in the form of packing lunch, organizing files, packing her bag (both personal and one for cases).

this morning was a complete blur. you had worked late the previous night and slept in before work. emily got ready around you, shaking you awake a few moments before she was set to leave.

when emily departed and you made your way downstairs, you noticed what she had forgotten. a brown folder stamped with the fbi logo sat next to an empty lunch bag. you frowned. file aside, you didn’t want her skipping lunch.

you took your phone out and sent her a text.

‘hi baby. you forgot a file and your lunch. can i stop by with them?’

she responds while you’re in the middle of getting dressed for the day.

‘any chance you can bring them at noon-ish? we have meetings all morning but a break for lunch.’

you beam. seeing your girlfriend at her workplace is new. sure you’d seen pictures of the bullpen, mostly when emily showed you her desk whenever you gave her a new trinket to add, but you had never been there.

instead of packing a meal, you stopped downtown at one of emily’s favorite restaurants for take-out. a little surprise.

quantico is intimidating, even from the signage you see on the drive over.

you park in the visitors lot and follow the instructions emily had given you on where to go. security was mandatory and a visitors pass was needed to access the floor.

once exiting the elevator, you stood nervously. emily was at her desk, though so were her coworkers. you look out of place; reusable bag and folder in your hands and casual clothing adorning your body.

she finally looked up and out the glass door, smile enveloping her face as she raised her hand to motion for you to come in. the agents sitting at their desks naturally gravitate towards the commotion. all of them recognized you.

the opal necklace the notice sitting around your neck suddenly makes sense.

“any chance you can get them to stop staring?” you ask once emily stops in front of you.

“hi baby,” she muses, disregarding the question with amusement. “sorry to make you trek all the way out here.”

her hand finds its way to the small of your back, guiding you over to her desk. she lets you have the chair while she sits on the surface. you fight the urge to roll your chair forward and rest your head on her leg. “don’t worry about it. i brought you takeout from that thai place we like.”

emily beams.

“you’re too good to me.”

“you deserve it.”

you stop taking the containers out of the bag and peer up at her.

emily’s hand moves to rest on your cheek before she ducks down to kiss you gently.

it’s revealing. you both know everyone in the room witnessed the act of public affection. “i love you.”

“i love you, too.”

when the team finally confronts emily, she has no problem boasting.

“this is y/n,” emily introduces. she glances at you to which you tilt your head, lips upturned. the next two words come a moment later. “my girlfriend.”

like white lilies, this was a new beginning. one where she could be more than open about her lover.

maybe the team's suspicion had been right, maybe some of it had been wrong. that didn’t matter now. all emily cared about could be open about your relationship.

rebirth and purity.

#criminal minds #criminal minds x reader #criminal minds imagine #criminal minds fanfiction #criminal minds angst #criminal minds x y/n #emily prentiss #emily prentiss x reader #emily prentiss x female reader #emily prentiss x you #emily prentiss fluff #emily prentiss x y/n

2K notes · View notes

cock-holliday · 9 months

Note

Liking fantasy creatures that have been around for centuries isn’t automatically antisemitism lmao. If you see happy merchant in those goblin books, that’s on you. Genuine spacelazarwolf brain rottage. I’m jewish, and I’m ashamed to see antisemitism discourse go down the same route of the “ogres & black people” debacle from a few years back.

reading comprehension: -1/10

i didn't say liking goblins means you're antisemitic, what I said is that lots of goblin shit leans on antisemitic stereotypes, goblincore overlaps a lot with cottagecore which is riddled with white supremacist issues and so this, combined with a paraphrase of a white supremacist trad phrase makes for a bad combo on the edge of some heavy shit

Personally I don't give a shit if you like goblincore, what I said is people on purpose or by accident hang around in this grey zone of white supremacist memery to the point that it's difficult to tell if people really understand what they are tetering towards

I don't think everyone or 99% of the people who uses the "change my mind" meme are conservative shitheads, but do they know they're putting a conservative shithead on everyone's dash every time? Do people know where pepes and wojaks and so many reddit/4chan memes come from? Where lizard people memes are from? Where the muscle/chad/swole guy representing the right opinion is actually the (not-so) secret view of nazi?

People outright quote "reject modernity embrace tradition" as a funny slogan to parody and don't seem to realize it's a literal fascist catchphrase?

I'm simply asking for people to be aware of the insidious creep of white supremacist references into daily life and that if it's an accident that it made it into your vocab and jokes and books then walk back from it because you leave open the door for people who MEAN it as a nazi phrase. Because white supremacists and nazis are USING MEMES to appeal to recruits, to cloak themselves in public life, and form comradery with people who would never consider themselves nazis.

I'M jewish and I'm ashamed to see "antisemitic caricatures are a you-problem actually" from people, especially someone pulling the Jew card in my inbox. Yeah, maybe it's just an accident, but think about why you keep making money-hungry little thieves with hook noses and curly dark hair as a combo? What is it about that combination that goes together for you? What could it accidentally be implying? What is the history behind this?

Think about what these are on the fence of, what it is making excuses for, what it is making a norm, and what kind of ground that can cede for something more explicitly fascist, you dildo.

Oh, and fuck you, spacelazarwolf was probably right about whatever specifically made you shit your pants. Gee I wonder what "space Lazar" could be a pun about, hm, guess we'll never know--must be some made up outrage...

#ask #anon ask #like what was the purpose of this?#I literally said in the post I'm not even one of the people dying on the hill of you can't like goblincore #I said hey mayhaps be a little aware?#and here you come with stompy boots and horse blinders

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mejcinta · 7 months

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Helaena's Displeasure and Forcefully Taking Attention (A Body Language Study).

Love, love, LOVE Phia's acting here. In the first picture, you can subtly see the confusion in Helaena's soft gaze the second she walks in ("Have you seen Dyana? She's supposed to dress the children..." *pauses*) and then the shock and outrage that dawns on her in the second picture, when she puts together what Aegon had done.

Her eyes are wider (notice you see more of the whites of her eyes in the second pic) and her lips are pressed into a tight, tense line as she freezes. She was displeased and shocked (the incident happened in their room!), but somewhat resigned. This is because she makes no drastic show with her body. Also, we never see her face when Alicent hugs her, although it is apparent that Aegon is staring at her while their mother comforts her.

Note that Helaena doesn't flinch from Alicent's touch this time, like she usually does. She actually *wants* the comfort this time. She must be pretty hurt.

Meanwhile, Aegon was just as stunned as Helaena when she walked in on him (his mouth fell agape, his fixed gaze on Alicent abruptly breaking to blink in surprise when Helaena appeared offscreen).

Notice how he stared back at her, fiddling (nervously) with the sheets covering his manhood out of embarrassment, when Alicent basically confirmed to Helaena what she feared had happened.

While Aegon was indifferent with Alicent and her justified lecture, he is clearly not happy with himself at what his actions has done to Helaena.

Because he cares? Who knows. But even being the mess of a husband he is, it seems that he acknowledges his wife is blameless, spotless and innocent in every way. She's done nothing but be the dutiful wife, the dutiful mother... yet he's caused her pain and continues to do so.

Aegon could be grappling here with why he never seems to get anything right. Why he never seems to please anyone. Why he only hurts and disappoints. Why he's insufficient.

Later at dinner, he gifts Helaena a beetle. A poor attempt at apologizing, yes, but it is all he knows, it seems, of Helaena's taste. And his characterisation so far (using ep 6 as reference for his bravado and boastfulness) is shown not to be conversant with the concept of admitting failure or defeat verbally.

Helaena plays with the beetle before dinner begins and even shows it off to Otto while they chat.

She inspects the gift in the background when Aegon teases Jace, glimpses at him and takes a swig of her wine, giggling subtly at Aegon's sex joke. Does she find this truly funny? Is the wine loosening her up? Or is this a sarcastic/knowing laugh given what happened earlier? Who knows.

The matter, however, seemed to have been turning in her mind. Because shortly after when she is seen thoughtfully stroking Aegon's beetle, she suddenly stands up to make the provoking toast:

"I would like to toast Baela and Rhaena. They'll be married soon. It isn't so bad...mostly he just ignores you. Except sometimes when he's drunk."

She must have been pondering the incident with Aegon and Alicent earlier and reliving the feelings she experienced. Her outrage, disappointment, discontent and hurt finally found an outlet in that toast.

The sigh she heaves out before sitting back down indicates that she had wanted to get things out of her chest and that speaking up had offered her some relief, even if it came at Aegon's expense lol (I think she was happy to embarrass him, personally. And she is justified).

Generally, my conclusion from this analysis of Helaena's body language is that:

1. She was pretty upset with Aegon's actions, 'ashamed' as Alicent implied earlier to Aegon.

2. Her spontaneous roast of him at the dinner, the sudden nature in which she jumped up, shows that she had in fact been brooding over the incident and was quite angry with him.

3. However, her laughter at Aegon's jokes imply that her sexual encounters with Aegon aren't forced like people want to believe. She isn't nervous beside him. In fact I'd argue Aegon is more wary of her than she could ever be of him.

4. Her understanding of sex is warped but it is clear she has her expectations and desires. That's why she jibes at Aegon's alcohol addiction. Perhaps she wishes they would bond sexually without alcohol being a necessity. Perhaps she wishes he didn't ignore her.

Her dull tone when she says "It isn't so bad mostly he just ignores you" shows that she's sad about that part of her marriage.

And when Jace gives Helaena attention in the form of asking for a dance she readily seizes the moment. Not because she likes him (this is Baela's betrothed and she clearly respects that), but because she desires to be showered with attention and if Aegon won't give it she'll take it from someone else while forcing Aegon to give HER attention.

Aegon struggles watching Jace dance with Helaena, and he clutches Helaena's beetle... mirroring her action of stroking it.

Again, Aegon is not the kind of man to admit defeat, so he seethes instead in silence as she dances.

In Tom Glynn Carney's words Aegon didn't want Jace to win by gaining a reaction from him.

So Helaena dances to her content, fanning Aegon's anger and jealousy while also gaining HIS attention and punishing him for how he wronged her earlier.

As Alicent well put it:

"Think of the shame on your wife..."

By accepting Jace's hand, Helaena consciously or unconsciously made Aegon experience the shame she went through earlier after his cowardly action.

In a way, this whole scene is a display of power play and the rift between man and wife. Much like Alicent requesting Rhaenyra take her infant up to her chambers was a challenge of power between rivals.

#hotd analysis #incoherent thoughts #helaena targaryen #aegon ii targaryen #alicent hightower #helaegon #hotd #house of the dragon #Targaryen Weirdness

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airbendertendou · 7 months

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I'M IN RUINS! ♡ mitsuya takashi

synopsis : maybe he really is just that nice to everyone.

song inspo ; going dumb by stray kids, alesso, corsak

cw : baji!reader ; reader has their period, but no pronouns ; baji is referred to as your brother, but looks aren't stated ; more of a college-ish au ; kazutora favortism briefly got the best of me

if you have a blank blog [no bio, no user, no header or profile pic, nothing reblogged, etc] do not interact with my content. you will be blocked.

It's so unfair, you think. Being so close to him, yet not allowing to linger — it's disheartening. You ache ; suffer and beg and cry, thinking of your brother's friend.

Baji sighs as you frown at him. "Do you really need to go?"

"Why am I not allowed to?" You reply. You'd put on your cutest outfit and your favorite shoes. After hearing Mitsuya was tagging along to this little get together, how could you not? "I'm hungry and you're going to eat."

"You never want to go," your brother argues. You cross your arms and tilt your head, raising your eyebrows to look stern. It's the way your mom looks at him ; the way she gets him to listen. Keisuke clicks his tongue, "whatever. Come on, then."

——♡——

By the time Chifuyu pulls up to the meeting area, your stomach is aching. You shuffle where you stand, sending a meek smile to Draken when he looks your way. Kazutora is distracting your brother, giggling together as you wait for the last guest to arrive.

A rumble hits the wind, covering the chattering of the other guys and numerous shoppers. Lilac hair shines in the light and you hold your breath — he's here.

"Boys," Mitsuya grins as he parks his bike. His eyes slide to you, smile growing gentle, less teasing. “Hey, trouble. Make a last minute decision to come?"

You nod silently, holding your stomach and trying to hide your grimace. Mitsuya tilts his head curiously, but gets taken into a conversation with Draken. You tug on the end of Baji's hair, "I'm going to the bathroom really quick."

A chest is pressed to your back quicker than you can think. A hand — gentle and firm simultaneously — leads you to the left. Mitsuya clears his throat as you scowl at him. "I'll show you where the bathroom is."

You want to cry. You're absolutely mortified at what you discover. Your pee is red — the reason behind your stomach pain is clear. Your favorite bottoms are stained and you're unable to wear them now. Having your period is natural, nothing to be ashamed about.

But, Mitsuya noticed. He shielded your backside so that no one else would see the splash of blood.

Leaning against the stall's wall, you sniffle as tears drip down your nose. You'd texted Draken about your current problem — Keisuke had broken his phone just yesterday. The blond was your only hope at this point ; you hoped he'd read your text soon.

"[Name]," a knock to the bathroom door startles you. "Here. I'll wait for you, okay?"

Humiliation — Mitsuya had taken it upon himself to get you supplies. Taking in a stuttered breath, you fought to make your sobs unknown. You dab your face with toilet paper lightly before opening the door. Quickly, you snatch the bag you see and ignore the one standing in the doorway.

He'd gotten you a new outfit, too. The same color as your previous one, so that no one else would notice what happened. Your tears fell again as you situated yourself.

Once out of the bathroom, you sniff and avoid Mitsuya's gaze. Draken is leaning against the wall across from you, looking over you quickly as you walked to him. You brush your bottoms lightly, head to the floor as you stand in silence.

"No big deal," Draken reassures you. He pats the top of your head with a grin, "let me know if you want to go home, okay?"

Your nod is stopped by an arm wrapping aound your shoulders. Mitsuya squeezes you close to him, trapping you in the smell of his cologne. "S'all good, trouble. Tell us if you feel unwell."

The light catches through a window, shining on Mitsuya like a hidden halo. His eyes light up, his eyelashes curving against his cheek as he smiles. Mitsuya's nose scrunches as laughs at something Draken says. Peeking at you with his peripheral vision, he tilts his head.

“Why are you looking at me like that?”

“You’re so nice to me.” It's said before you can even think. Because he is nice to you — kind, welcoming and warm. Mitsuya squeezes you a bit closer before letting go of you completely. Chifuyu waves your way excitedly. Your small, "thank you," is covered by the noise of the restaraunt.

——♡——

Mitsuya had left the table not long ago. Keisuke shoves your shoulder, causing you to bump into Kazutora. The dual-haired boy gasps dramatically before shoving into your right shoulder, bumping you back into your brother.

Your giggles are drowned out by the sight of Draken shaking his head. Chifuyu speaks through his own laughter, "where's Mitsuya?"

"Flirting," Draken says with a roll of his eyes. Your smile fades, falling from your face slowly at the words. Draken lets out a loud sigh, "can't take him anywhere."

Baji grumbles into your ear, "I'll say."

Kazutora snorts, covering his mischivious grin with his hand. He lays his head on your shoulder, "oh, whatever shall we do with such a pretty boy?"

Your grin inflates again at Kazutora's casual teasing. You ruffle his hair, scrunching your nose as he scowls playfully at you. "You're a pretty boy, too, you know."

Kazutora's eyes widen, his cheeks pinkening at your words as he sits up straight. Your eyes slide across the table. "So is Chifuyu, honestly." You look to your brother and grimace, "don't know what happened to you."

Baji clicks his tongue before shoving you again. Kazutora catches you in a backwards hug, his forearm settling across your collarbones. "Be nice to [name], Baji!"

"Jus' cause you were called pretty..." your brother grumbles to himself.

The chair across from you is pulled out, a loud screech hitting the area you're in. Mitsuya plops down with a stone-faced expression, his eyes focused solely on you. "Enjoying ourselves, are we?"

"Like you can talk," Draken teases. The tall blond flutters his eyelashes and clasps his hands together. "Oh, it's you! From class! The fashion designer!"

"Can't talk to my classmates now?"

Chifuyu snickers, kicking your foot under the table as he does. You shake your head, sinking your chin below Kazutora's arm to hide your grin. Mitsuya eyes your position idly before tilting his head, "you both look comfy."

Kazutora pulls you closer, "[Name] thinks I'm pretty."

"I said Chifuyu was, too!"

The dual-haired boy hums into your ear. "But, you thought of me first."

"As fun as this is," Draken looks up from his phone. He sighs before pocketing the device. "Mikey is calling for us. Want me to take you home, [name]?"

"I'll do it," Mitsuya interrupts. He lets out a sigh, gaze drifting from you and laying on the table. "I'm going to check on my sisters, anyways."

You're waving to your friends as Mitsuya leans against his bike. You can feel him watching you, but you ignore his eyes to grin gleefully at Kazutora.

"He your recent crush?"

"What?" You blink, turning to face the lilac-haired boy. Mitsuya shrugs, making no move to leave as he gazes at you. "Kazu? He's not my crush, why?"

"But, you do have one," he steps closer to you. "A crush."

Gulping, you move away from him and to the back of the bike. "Maybe."

Mitsuya hums, "your brother know?"

"Why would I tell Keisuke about a crush?" You lean beside him now, frowning to the ground. Kicking at the sidewalk with your foot, you scrunch your nose. "He's horrible at keeping secrets."

He nods and you're hyperaware of the way his arm brushes against yours. It's like he's doing it on purpose — moving closer to you. "I'm not. You can tell me who it is."

"No thanks!"

"Why not?"

You grow silent, even as Mitsuya gets closer. His arm is behind your back at this point, his hand sitting on the seat of his bike. "You don't need to know."

"I want to."

"Do you have a crush on anyone?" As he doesn't answer, you finally look his way. Soft, dreamy eyes are looking at you. His gaze feels heavy ; heated as he stares your way. "Mitsuya?"

He blinks and looks away, "maybe."

"Would you tell me who it is?"

"Well, that's not fair," he leans closer, his lips brush against your ear, "is it, [name]?"

You freeze, eyes widening as Mitsuya tilts his head at you curiously. Staring at the ground, you think about it for a second. You think maybe I should tell him ; maybe it's time. Then your mind flashes back to before — to when Draken said he was flirting.

"Oh, is it someone from your class? The one Ken was talking about?"

Mitsuya doesn't answer — that means yes, you think. Downhearted, you frown and scoot away from him, leaving room to breathe. He doesn't allow that, though, scooting until your arms are pressed together once again.

"It's a friend," Mitsuya speaks up. He leans more to the left, his chin almost resting on your right shoulder. "A close friend."

You gasp dramatically, hoping to interrupt the intense atmosphere. "It's Chifuyu, isn't it? Knew it — he's irresistible."

Mitsuya snorts, rolling his eyes. You smile at the sound, oblivious to the way he gazes at you. He bites his lip, hesitant, but nudges the tip of his shoe against yours anyways. You meet his gaze — his eyes flicker from yours briefly before he smiles tenderly. "I'll tell you who it is. Eventually."

You trust he'll keep his word.

——♡—— idk abt a part two for this one... tbh i like how it ends. if youd like to b tagged / untagged in any tokyo revengers content, let me know! ♡

🍓FOREVER TAGS : @straysugzhpe ♥︎ @star2fishmeg ♥︎

🍓 TOKYOREV TAGLIST : @thatpoindexterpixy

airbendertendou © do not copy, plagiarize, repost, or translate my content on any platform. if you see my content under any other name than my own, let me know. i only have this tumblr and an ao3 account under the same name.

#mitsuya x reader #mitsuya takashi x reader #mitsuya imagines #mitsuya x you #mitsuya x y/n #mitsuya fluff #mitsuya headcanons #tr mitsuya #tokyo revengers mitsuya #mitsuya takashi #tokyo rev x reader #tokyo rev hcs #tokyo rev headcanons #tokyo rev x you #tokyo rev fluff #tokyo rev x y/n #tokyo revengers x reader #tokyo revengers imagines #tokyo revengers fluff

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