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yuujispinkhair · 15 days

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Sukuna showing you his love and appreciation on Mother's Day

Modern!Sukuna x Reader (female). fluff + smut. wc 2k

Warnings: 18+, smut, oral (female receiving), creampie, praise, pregnancy. Reader and Sukuna already have a daughter together, and reader is pregnant with Sukuna's second baby. Minors don't interact. Divider @/benkeibear + @/qqmaiztwsse. This story can be read as part 2 of this baby daddy Sukuna story, but you don't have to read the first part.

You wake up to the mattress shifting under Sukuna's weight, as he is carefully untangling himself from you, trying not to wake you up. You blink sleepily and watch your husband get up, unable to tear your gaze away from Sukuna's broad, tattooed back and the way his buff muscles move when he stretches.

Of course, he catches you checking him out and smirks that typical charming smirk at you as you are about to sit up. But Sukuna is quicker. He leans down to press a kiss to your cheek and pushes you gently back down on the pillow,

"Uh uh, no getting up yet. I still need time to prepare some things. Go back to sleep, darling. Happy Mother's Day."

You smile and snuggle back into your blanket, watching Sukuna getting dressed before he leaves the bedroom with one last look over his broad shoulder and an amused wink.

When you wake up the second time that morning, the lovely scent of coffee and freshly baked muffins drifts to your nose. And the loud chatter of your little daughter and Sukuna. You grin to yourself as you hear them in front of the bedroom door, arguing over who gets to wake you up.

"She is my mommy and not yours!"

"But she is my wife!"

"Oh, Daddy, don't be stupid! It's called Mother's Day, not Wife's Day!"

You hear Sukuna sigh dramatically, and you can practically see his amused grin and the way he rolls his beautiful maroon eyes in mock exasperation.

"Ok, ok, I will let you wake her up, princess. Do you have your present?"

The answer seems to be yes because a second later, the door gets pushed open, and your daughter runs over to the bed and jumps onto it, pushing the gift she made for you in kindergarten in your face: A painting with a heart and flowers and four figures, you, her, and Sukuna, and in your tummy little baby number two.

You thank her profusely, hugging her and letting her explain the painting to you when Sukuna joins you on the bed with a beautiful rose bouquet in his arms and a little gift bag from your favorite skincare brand.

You smile at your little princess and your husband, thanking them for the gifts and marveling at how similar they look. She has your eyes, but you can see her father's features in her pretty face, and when her lips lift in a grin, it is a 100% match to the grin that you love so much on Sukuna's face.

You lift your head to look at Sukuna, realizing that he is watching you and your daughter too. There is an unguarded, soft expression on his beautiful, tattooed face. An expression that makes your heart fill with tenderness for this tough man who is so good to you and your daughter.

A strong arm wraps around your waist at that moment, and Sukuna pulls you closer to him. And you cup his cheek and smile at him as he closes the small distance between you to kiss you, but not before he whispers, "Thank you."

The breakfast table is overflowing with things. The coffee and homemade muffins you already smelled, but also various sweet and savory treats from the bakery down the street. And flowers that your daughter picked this morning with her daddy in the park.

You smile as you imagine big, tall Sukuna with his intimidating tattoos and arrogant smirk, picking pretty flowers with his little daughter and the looks the two of them must have received from the grandmas taking their morning walk in the park.

You get up to help with the dishes after you're finished eating, but Sukuna sends a stern look your way, shaking his head,

"What do you think you are doing? Sit back down."

He points at his daughter,

"You stay here and make sure your mommy doesn't lift a single finger."

You laugh and lean back in your chair, taking another sip from the orange juice as you watch Sukuna do the dishes and clean the kitchen.

The three of you spend the rest of the day together, going on a long walk in the park. Your little one is running ahead while you and Sukuna stroll leisurely side by side, with his arm around your waist or you leaning against his side and holding onto his biceps.

You make a stop at an ice cream parlor, eat ice cream, and drink coffee afterward while your daughter plays on the playground in front of the little shop.

Before you know it, Sukuna has pulled you onto his lap. He holds you with one arm while he sips his coffee with the other and grins that boyish grin at you that always makes your pulse flutter, no matter how often you see it.

Sukuna's large hand is sprawled over your belly, where the swell of your baby bump is already visible. He caresses it absentmindedly, making you smile because you know how proud he is that you are pregnant with his second baby.

And right at that moment, a soft kiss lands on your shoulder, and Sukuna murmurs in a sexy low voice, only for you to hear,

"You are so beautiful, mommy."

When it's time to go home, your daughter, of course, complains loudly that she doesn't want to leave yet, but Sukuna just jogs over to her with a smirk, plucks her off the jungle gym with ease, and casually throws her over one shoulder.

You laugh when you see her kick her little legs and scream, only to realize a minute later that it's very comfortable to get carried by her daddy, and she stops struggling and instead slumps lazily onto her father's broad shoulder.

Sukuna's low laugh joins yours,

"You are acting like a sack of rice. Be careful I don't mix things up and accidentally make dinner out of you."

"Oh yeah? And you look like a strawberry with your pink hair. Be careful I don't make dessert out of you, Daddy!"

"Well, I would definitely make a great dessert! But I have to inform you that I am actually a full-course meal, young lady."

You burst out laughing again, affectionately ruffling your daughters and Sukuna's hair, thinking how similar they are not just in looks but also in their personalities.

Your daughter still refuses to walk on her own, but luckily, Sukuna is strong and doesn't even break a sweat while carrying her all the way home to your apartment. And you grin to yourself, knowing how loving Sukuna is when it comes to his little family. A strong and protective man who would do anything for you and your babies. Your little daughter has calmed down again, too, and snuggles against Sukuna, hugging his neck and almost falling asleep right there on her father's shoulder.

A few hours later, your apartment is quiet, with your daughter fast asleep in her room, and the lights dimmed.

And Sukuna and you have some time only for each other.

He pulls you into his strong arms, pressing his tall, firm body against yours, and kisses you thoroughly. Tender and deep kisses that make your knees weak.

And when your lips part, there is this tender expression on Sukuna's face that is only reserved for you.

"Thank you for all the love you give our little brat. And all the love you give me. Thank you for making this apartment a home. I never thought I would have a real home or a real family. But you gave me all that and I am so grateful for you. I love you, darling."

Sukuna swoops you up in his strong arms and carries you to your bedroom while you smile at him with tears in your eyes, telling him that you love him too, while you caress the short hair of his undercut, your heart feeling so full.

You lock the bedroom door and immediately begin to undress each other on your way over to the large bed. You moan at the feel of Sukuna's buff muscles under your hands, and he groans when he places you on the bed and lets his hungry gaze travel slowly over your naked body.

There were times when you felt insecure and ashamed at the thought of being so exposed to someone's gaze. But not anymore. With Sukuna, you feel desired, loved, and your body reacts to his loving gaze, your nipples hardening and your pussy wet and yearning for Sukuna's cock.

He leans over you, so tall and big but so loving. Sukuna always spoils you in bed, but especially tonight, on Mother's Day, the day that exists to show you his appreciation.

You are drowning in bliss as Sukuna's lips and tongue wander down your body slowly, loving you, worshipping the body of the woman he loves, the body of the mother of his children. He makes you feel sexy like no other man before him did, even with the changes your body went through after the first pregnancy and your current pregnancy.

You mewl softly when Sukuna plays with your sensitive breasts, which are already filling out more again due to the pregnancy hormones, cupping them with his large hands and sucking gently on your stiff nipples. His mouth wanders to your swollen belly, trailing kisses over the bump where his baby number two is growing.

Your hips buck needily when Sukuna pushes your legs apart and trails tender kisses over your inner thighs before he reaches his goal and slowly makes out with your swollen clit. Your heart is racing, your mind hazy as you give yourself to your husband completely, letting him pamper you and show you how grateful he is for you.

Your first orgasm that night is on Sukuna's tongue. Hot pleasure explodes inside you while your fingers twist in his pink hair and tug on it as you throw your head back and moan his name softly, shuddering on his velvety mouth as he licks and kisses you through your high.

The second one is on Sukuna's cock when he takes you with slow but deep thrusts while you lie on your side so it's comfortable for you with your baby bump. And Sukuna is behind you, his strong muscular arms wrapped tightly around you, holding you while he rolls his hips against you, fucking his long and thick cock deep into you.

Sukuna's face is buried in your neck, and you get blessed with hearing his sexy, low moans. One of his large hands is on your pregnant belly, while the other is between your legs, caressing tender circles around your clit. His lips brush over your neck, kissing you, moaning softly in utter bliss and devotion, and whispering to you how beautiful you are, how sexy, murmuring his praise and love to you in that sexy, hoarse voice that drives you crazy.

Sukuna's hand clamps over your mouth just in time for your orgasm, and you squeal into his large hand as you cum on his cock, twitching and clenching on him, milking his hot, sticky seed out of him, that he spills into you with a low, guttural moan.

You stay in that position afterward, cuddling while lying on your side, Sukuna hugging you tightly from behind, his thick cock still deep inside you.

You lazily trace the tattoos on Sukuna's wrists with one hand while your other hand reaches behind to tangle in Sukuna's soft pink hair as you turn your head to let him kiss you tenderly.

"You are so fucking beautiful. I might just make you a mommy again."

"I imagine that to be a bit hard when I am already very pregnant with your baby, Kuna."

And he laughs and kisses your shoulder, his smile evident in his voice,

"Doesn't mean I can't try."

HE IS SO 💗💗 Thank you so much for reading!! I hope you enjoyed your time with Daddy Sukuna ;)

Comments and reblogs would be very sweet 💗

#sukuna x reader #sukuna x you #sukuna fluff #sukuna smut #sukuna #ryomen sukuna #jjk x reader #jjk smut #jjk x you #jjk fluff #sukuna x y/n #jjk x y/n #tw pregnancy

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monstersflashlight · 26 days

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Gym slut

Orcs x fem!human || Exhibitionism, size kink, dub-con (kinda), humiliation, sharing is caring

You’ve been watching him for months. He always arrives to the gym at the same hour as you, usually parking not too far from your car. He holds the door for you and always smiles and winks when you pass him. His tusks gleaming under the gym lights. Watching him work out is the best hobby you currently have. He’s so tall and so big. You are sure he’d tower over everyone you know. Even if his skin wasn’t the prettiest shade of green, the size of his muscles would draw your eyes to him. He’s just… massive. Twice your size if not more.

And today is the day. You are sexually frustrated and you have been carrying a gym-crush on him for months. You are going to try to have your sweet way with him. You had no plan, just horniness, as you approached him.

“Can you spot me?” You ask, looking at him from under your lashes, trying to be coy. He smirks knowingly, nodding.

He smirks, his tusks look sharp under the fluorescent lights. “Sure thing, little human.”

He helps you work out for the rest of the session, his body closer than it should, but you don’t care. You lean into him, pushing your ass against his dick as many times as possible. Pushing your boobs against his face, “accidentally” falling on his lap and slowly getting up, making sure to moan as you do so. You know you are playing with fire, his eyes are getting hotter and the outline of his dick is visible in his gym shorts. You lick your lips looking at it. He laughs, noticing.

“You want to get out of here?” He asks. You nod, anticipation filling your body.

You thought he would lead you to his car, to someplace different, but he grabs your hand and drags you to the men’s changing rooms. There’s nobody there, way too early for people to be in the gym.

He doesn’t wait for you to say anything, his mouth covering yours as he makes a quick job stripping you off your clothes. You think you hear something rip, and soon after you see your panties torn on the floor. Dang, that’s hot. He kisses your neck, pinching your nipples as his other hand travels down your abdomen, rapidly finding your clit.

He plays with your pussy for a little while, rolling his thumb over your clit as he pushes one finger inside. Then two, then three. You groan and moan as you move your hips to create friction, chasing your pleasure on his hand. His fingers are bigger than yours, so much bigger. With three of his fingers, you already feel like it’s too much. And then he pushes a fourth in, making you groan and whimper. He fucks you like that for a few minutes, not even caring that you aren’t exactly in a private area.

“Hurry up, somebody could come.” You tell him.

“I don’t care.” He chuckles, taking his time thrusting into your hungry pussy.

“I do.” You say, trying to sound stern but failing when his thumb rolls over your clit again and your words break with a groan.

“No, you don’t. You are a gym slut, you want my dick so bad you wouldn’t care if somebody came right now. Wouldn’t you?” You shake your head, but his words ignite something inside of you. “I felt your pussy flutter, you like that, don’t you? You like the idea of somebody catching us, of somebody watching you being a slut.” He punctuates the last word with a twist of his wrist, making your knees buckle under you as tremors run down your body. “I knew you’d be a little whore, I knew you’d like it rough and dirty, like the little slut you are. I’ve been watching you, flaunting your ass around, exposing your tits a bit too much. You wanted this for a while, didn’t you?” He doesn’t let you answer. “Of course you did, you’ve been dreaming of being my gym slut, right?” You say nothing, embarrassment and humiliation filling you.

You look down, avoiding his knowing eyes. He laughs, his fingers still fucking you slowly, parting his fingers slightly every once in a while. Stretching you. And then he lowers his pants, and you see what you already suspected. He’s big. Monster size big. So big it’s probably bigger than your forearm, but most of all, he’s thick. So fucking thick. There’s no way.

“I- You are too big. That’s not gonna fit.” You murmur, trying to push away from him.

He grabs you, not letting you get away, his fingers still inside of your pussy, making you groan as he twists them. “Oh yes, it will.”

“I don’t think I can do it.” He pulls his fingers out as he picks you up, one arm under your ass as he positions you right over his dick, your legs instinctively going around his hips.

“You’ve been teasing me with those leggings for months. It will fit.” Then he starts to push inside, parting your folds with his fingers as the tip of his cock breaches you. It’s too big. It won’t fit. There’s no way he’s gonna fit. But he keeps going. The bite of pain makes your pussy clench as you whimper. “Relax.” He orders. You try to, you exhale the air you were holding, feeling how the head of his cock penetrates you, making you groan.

The mixture of pain and pleasure is driving your brain into overload. You don’t know how to feel, it’s just too much. But he doesn’t care. He allows you to babble all you want, wiping your tears as they flow, but he keeps going, and going, and going. “Almost all the way in, little human.” You don’t think you can take anymore, it’s too far in, too deep, you can feel like he’s splitting you in two. You moan, tears rolling down your cheeks as he pushes the final inches inside of you. You can feel him in the back of your throat. Too much. Too deep. Too big.

He doesn’t wait for you to accommodate his size, he doesn’t wait for you to tell him it’s okay if he moves. He just starts thrusting as soon as he hits bottom, pulling almost all the way out before going back in. You feel like he’s rearranging your insides as he keeps thrusting, keeps using your whole body as a fleshlight, his hands on your hips, pushing you up and down his dick like a fuck doll.

You try to hide the embarrassment, but the way he’s using you is making it hard to hide how turned on you are. Your juices are dripping, your body accepting him inside of you, the mixture of pain and pleasure tilting the balance until the pleasure is so big you are coming around his dick. He pinches your nipple as you cum, making the climax go so high you think you can touch the stars. And he keeps going, your body goes lax in his hold, and he still doesn’t care. He keeps fucking you on his dick and grunting every time he hits bottom.

And then it happens.

You hear the door before you register what that means. “Somebody is watching, little human.” He murmurs in your ear, his dick still inside of you as he uses you like a fleshlight. Not stopping. You can’t ignore the way your pussy pulses at the thought of somebody watching. “I felt that.” He chuckles. “Wanna give him a show?” You want to say no, you want to get away, but you are drunk with pleasure and the thought of somebody watching is turning you one more than anything before. Your pussy constricts around his dick, once again telling him all he needs to know.

He turns you around, still holding all your weight with his arms, your legs up. You are folded like a pretzel, your pussy exposed completely. Your whole body exposed to the hungry eyes of the newcomer. Your gym-crush impales himself on you from behind as the person in front of you gasps. It’s another orc. Not as big as your gym-crush but still so much bigger than you. You pant, looking at him intensely as you keep being fucked. You can see the outline of his dick as he massages his hardness over his sweatpants.

The orc at your back laughs. “Look at her, bro. She’s dripping. She’s such a slut. She approached me and begged to be fucked.” You try to deny it, but you can’t talk as he keeps thrusting inside you. “And now look, her eyes are unfocused and her drool is flowing, she’s just a slut, a dirty gym slut that likes orc cock inside her pussy. Wanna touch her? She’s not gonna refuse.” You feel humiliated, but good lord if it’s not doing it for you.

The other orc approaches you as you pant, your face so flushed it burns. He lowers his head and sucks on your nipple, making you cry out as the orc behind you laughs. “See? A slut. She’s not even trying to act offended, she likes to be a slut.” The second orc laughs along with him, pinching your nipple as he plays with your tits, one hand still massaging his dick through his pants. Second orc pinches your clit next, making you whimper and try to pull away as they laugh at your inability to move away from your gym-crush hold. “Be still, little slut.” He chastises, his tone humorous. He’s having fun humiliating you, laughing at you. Your pussy clenches on his dick.

You feel embarrassed and ashamed as you moan like the slut they named you. Completely at the mercy of two big orcs. The two of them playing with your body like you are a doll made to be fucked.

Orc number two falls to his knees before you, his mouth hovering over your pussy, mere inches apart from where your gym crush is fucking you restlessly. In a heartbeat, he’s making out with your pussy, licking every inch he can reach and making your body react like a lighting just hit you. The pressure of his tusks a reminder of what they are, their otherworldliness and how much that turns you on.

Your next orgasm hits you before you can say anything at all, the two orcs giving you pleasure as you fall apart. And then you feel it, the start of something big, the telltale sign of your bladder feeling full as they keep going, not even caring that you already came. And then you are showering them, you never squirted before, but it feels too much, too fast, too oversensitive.

“Did she just squirt?” The orc behind you asks, surprised. The one between your legs nods, his face wet with your release as he licks his lips. Your whole body feels like a raw nerve as they keep going. Both of them laughing at you as they continue to ravish you.

You cum a couple times more before they stop their assault, the orc under you getting up and jerking off right over your pussy. His cum hits your clit and drips down. There’s so much of it, you feel it coating your thighs and ass before it drips to the floor. He gently pats your pussy, chuckling as you whimper. The one behind you is close behind, his thrusts going erratic as he gets as far as he can go and cums deep inside. And cums. And cums. There’s so much of it you are overflowing, his semen mixing with the one already dripping from your pussy. It’s nasty, and you feel ashamed to be enjoying it so much. You feel like the slut they call you. Like a cumslut.

“Want a turn? Her pussy is amazing, all tight and warm.” Your gym-crush asks the other, pulling out and laughing again as you whimper, both of them fixated on the amount of cum covering your pussy.

“Nah dude, I’m late for work.” He says as he pulls off his shirt and goes into the showers.

The cum is drips from your cunt, making a puddle on the floor and making you feel like the slut they called you, your pussy raw and used, his mixed cum all over it. You are sure you look like you just got the best fuck of your life.

“Oh fuck, I’m gonna be late, too.” The first orc says, following him. I lay there, over the bench as I listen to them shower, not able to move just yet.

The orc who ate your pussy doesn’t even look back at you as he exists the room, not bothering to acknowledge your presence. The other one, your gym crush, walks out the shower and dresses quietly. “You should clean that, slut.” He tells you signaling the puddle on the floor. You nod, not able to say anything. He laughs again, your embarrassment making you blush from head to toe, humiliated at his words. “I hope to see you around again, gym slut.” He says as he passes you, pinching your nipple mockingly as you lay there, unable to process what just happened.

You just had the best sex of your life, being used by two orcs who you don’t even know the name of. Maybe they are right, maybe you are a gym slut.

But you can’t wait to do it again.

Now this story has a part 2 you can read here and part 3 you can read here

#monster #monster fucker #monster x human #monster imagine #teratophillia #monster x reader #orc #orc x reader #orc x human #let me know if you think i should add some kinks to the title

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liliacamethyst · 1 year

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Web of Secrets - Miguel O'Hara

Miguel O'Hara x SpiderSun Reader

words: 3.7K

warnings: secret pregnancy trope, swearing, angst, heartbreak, grumpy/sunshine, smut

Part I Part II Part III Part IV

In your universe, you are known as the Sun Spider. It all started on a school field trip to a solar energy research center, where you were accidentally exposed to a spider that had been subjected to intense solar radiation. You woke up with a white-hot surge of power, and your life changed forever. You donned a suit of pure white, taking the name that reflected both your newfound abilities and the brightness you brought into the world: Spider-Sun.

Your ability to harness solar energy and transform it into powerful blasts or create protective shields made you a formidable superhero in your home city, Nea Yorkey. Your ability to bring light to even the darkest corners of your city earned you the love of its citizens.

However, everything changed when you were suddenly pulled into the Spider-Verse.

Upon arriving, you were greeted by the gruff leader of this interdimensional team of Spider-People, Miguel O'Hara. His reputation preceded him - the genius intellect, the imposing figure, the gruff demeanor. Everyone respected him, and some even feared him. You, on the other hand, were drawn to him. There was something about that guarded demeanor that called to your own sunny nature.

You became an integral part of the team, fighting off anomalies and working hard to maintain the balance in the Spider-Verse. And despite Miguel's stern exterior, you felt yourself falling for him.

One mission was particularly rough, and you found yourself alone with Miguel in a safe house, nursing your wounds. His usually stern face softened as he tended to your injuries. The distance that he usually maintained was nowhere to be seen.

"Thank you, Miguel," you whispered.

He looked at you, his usually hard eyes soft. "You fought well, mi sol."

There was a moment of silence, a strange tension hanging in the air. Then, Miguel leaned in, capturing your lips in a kiss that was filled with unexpected passion.

In that moment, you were not the Sun Spider, and he was not the Spider-Man 2099. You were just two people, seeking solace in each other.

Afterwards, as you laid side by side, Miguel turned to you, a serious look on his face. "This...this can't be more than what it is. Just...you know, stress relief," he muttered, his voice just above a whisper.

His words wounded you. Naturally, they did. He had reduced your relationship to mere stress relief, as if you were some object devoid of feelings. Yet, in spite of it all, you fell for him. Perhaps you were naive, even foolish, but you didn't care. You yearned for him and were ready to accept any fraction of affection he was willing to offer, no matter how small.

During the day, as you fought alongside him against the anomalies threatening the Spider-Verse, his attention toward you was sparse. He mostly shared only necessary information, barely making eye contact. Sometimes he didn't speak at all, and you and the rest of the team would receive mission orders and briefings from Lyla, his AI assistant.

But at night, when the two of you were alone, he became a different person. He'd whisper praises into your ear, telling you how exceptionally you fought, how much he desired you. He showed you his hidden vulnerability under the cover of darkness, the sheets their only witness. He'd gently stroke your hair and peppered your jaw and temple with kisses until you fell asleep, only for you to wake up the next morning to an empty, cold spot where he once lay.

This cycle - his coldness by day, and the fervor by night - repeated itself relentlessly for months.

And so, this is how you find yourself: disoriented, frenzied, and on the verge of tears, seated on the couch of your best friend, Peter B. Parker, in Earth-616. Cradled in your arms is his sweet daughter, Mayday, who, with her innocent touch, tries to console you. Yet her wide eyes dart anxiously to her father, reflecting her own alarm at your distress.

Peter rubs his chin thoughtfully. "Maybe we should wait until MJ gets home?" he suggests, then, with a furrowed brow, he asks, “Have you tried talking to Jess about this?”

You shake your head vigorously. "No, I haven't told anyone. I have no idea what to do," you confess, your voice breaking.

Peter, ever the caring friend, gently takes Mayday from your arms and sets her down. He turns back to face you with a sympathetic gaze. “Do you..eh.. know who the father is?” he inquires softly.

You shake your head again, even though deep down, you know the truth. “The father is out of the picture. He doesn’t know, and he never will because he doesn’t want kids,” you whisper, fighting back tears.

As you and Peter sit down on the couch in his cozy living room, you find a sense of comfort being around him. His experience as both a superhero and a parent seems like it could be a beacon in this storm you're facing. The room is quiet, save for the soft ticking of a clock on the wall.

“You know, Peter,” you begin, your voice almost a whisper. “I’m terrified. What if the baby has powers? How am I going to protect them, especially if...if I can’t stop fighting anomalies?”

Peter looks thoughtful. “That’s a valid concern. First, you should know that you don’t have to do this alone. There’s a whole community of us, and we stick together. If the child does have powers, she or he will be badass like Mayday, right?”

You nod slowly but then anxieties pile on top of each other in your mind. “But... how can I hide this? Nobody and I mean nobody is supposed to know that I’m pregnant. Especially not...” You trail off, not finishing the sentence.

Peter rubs his chin, deep in thought. “We could look into modifying your suit, maybe talk to some tech geniuses in the Spider-Verse about creating something that can shield or conceal the pregnancy.”

You roll your eyes. “That kinda defies the ‘nobody is allowed to know ‘ordeal, Peter. You have to promise me that this stays between us.”

“I promise,” Peter says sincerely.

Silence fills the room again, and then you voice another fear. “Peter, what if...what if I’m not a good mother? What if I mess this up?”

Peter smiles warmly. “You know, I had those same fears when Mayday was born. I think it’s normal for any parent. But, take it from me, the fact that you’re worried about being a good parent means you’re already on the right track. You’ve got a good heart. Trust it.”

You look down at your hands, fingers interlaced. “Thank you, Peter. I don’t know what I would do without you.”

“You’ll never have to find out,” he says with a reassuring smile. “We’re family, in this weird, Spider-Verse kind of way. But maybe… and I am sayig this as a father myself… reconsider telling the father. I can’t imagine any guy wanting to give up this.” He says, pointing to his precious daughter playing with a napkin she found on the floor.

"Maybe you should reconsider telling the father," Peter's words are echoing in your mind like a haunting melody. A part of you yearns for that possibility. Perhaps you're not alone in this. Maybe, just maybe, Miguel wants this as much as you do.With newfound resolve, you set off for the Spider-Verse headquarters, expecting to find Miguel tucked away in his office, immersed in maintaining the spider verse or as he calls it "arachno- something-multiverse-thingy” or something similar to that.

Upon reaching his office door, you pound on it sharply. No response. Frowning, you knock again, a little harder this time. When silence continues to greet you, you slowly turn the doorknob and peek inside. There he is, hunched over his desk, lost in a world of numbers and codes.

"Miguel, I-" you start, but his sharp voice cuts you off.

"No," he interrupts, his tone cold. "Did I say you can come in? Dios mio, why are you always so damn clingy?"

His words hit you like a punch to the gut. You stare at him, taken aback by his blatant disregard for your feelings. You can feel the beginnings of tears prick at the corner of your eyes, but you will them away.

He doesn't mean it, he doesn't mean it like that. This mantra plays over and over in your head, like a broken record. You take a deep breath, forcing down the hurt his words cause.

"Look, Miguel," you begin, struggling to keep your voice steady. "There’s something we need to talk about, and I think it's important for you to listen to me."

“Fucking hell, woman! What exactly don’t you understand. I’m busy. I don’t care about your little problems, right now.” he barks, not even looking up.

“Miguel,” you speak up, forcing the words out through clenched teeth, “ I’ve never asked anything from you. Not once have did I ask you to stay, to feel the same I feel, to fucking talk to me when people are around. Please all I am asking you is to just ... listen to me, fpr once.” Your voice grows stronger as you speak, a determined fire igniting within you.

Miguel finally looks up, his eyes meeting yours. For a moment, he seems taken aback by the resolve he saw there.

He rubs his temples. “Can we do this later?”

“No!” you shout. “It’s always later with you. You’re like...like a ghost. Just a figure in the hallway. I don’t need a figure, I need a person! I need someone who listens when...”

He glares at you, his eyes narrowing. “Okay, okay I will listen just not now. Whatever it is, it can wait.”

“No, it can’t,” you retort, your voice shaking a bit. “Why is it that every time I try to talk to you, you just brush me off? Am I that insignificant to you?”

He stands up abruptly, the chair skidding behind him. “This? This is what you want to talk about?” he says with a tone of annoyance. “Look, I have a million things to deal with and-”

“And what? And I’m not one of them? Just five minutes, Miguel! That’s all I ask!”

The room is tense. Your heart is racing. His eyes are fiery. It's a standoff.

“And what is so important that you have to disrupt everything right now?” he challenges.

Your breath catches in your throat. This is it. You're about to say it.

“I...” you stammer. “I need to tell you that...”

Suddenly, the door to the office swings open and Jess storms in.

“Miguel, we have a major issue in Sector 12! The anomalies...” she starts, then catches sight of your tear-streaked face. “Oh, am I interrupting something?”

Miguel seems to shake off the tension and slips back into commander mode. “No nothing important. What’s happening in Sector 12?”

You can't believe it. Just like that, he turns away. It feels like your heart is being squeezed.

Jess starts rattling off data and scenarios. The two of them are talking, but you don’t hear it anymore. All you can think of is how you almost told him. How you just wanted five minutes.

Your hands shake and you quietly step out of the room. The door closes behind you, and it feels like a chapter that you can’t read has been sealed away.

The next day you are on Earth-8311, an anthropomorphic animal-dominated universe. It's the home of Peter Porker, the Spectacular Spider-Ham, and you can't help but find it amusing.

The mission: to transport an anomaly, which resembles an enormous floating jellyfish, back to its home universe. It's been pure chaos here, and you are determined to set things right.

The team: Gwen, Hobie, and Peter B. Parker. You're all in your suits, eyes sharp, and webs at the ready.

"Alright, Spiders. Let's round this jelly up and send it home," Peter B. Parker takes charge, shooting a web towards a nearby building.

You swing alongside him, your thoughts a whirlwind. The world around you blurs - the animal citizens, the bustling cityscape, the strange yet familiar surroundings.

The anomaly appears before you, thrashing and pulsating as it floats through the sky. It releases blasts of energy that ripple through the air.

"Watch out, Sunny!" Gwen calls out as she dodges a blast.

You, however, are a split second too late. Your reflexes are off, your movements sluggish. The blast sends you spiraling towards the ground.

Hobie swings in and catches you mid-air, his guitar strapped on his back. “Get it together, Sun!” he shouts over the noise, his punk-styled hair waving wildly.

You shake off your daze and look up to see Peter B. Parker shooting webs to pull the anomaly back down, while Gwen is deploying a device to open a portal back to its home universe.

Your heart races as you focus on the task at hand. You need to get this right, not just for yourself, but for the life you’re now carrying. Your suit seems to glow even brighter in the chaos.

With a final combined effort, you manage to lasso the anomaly and push it through the portal. The anomaly disappears, and the portal closes behind it.

The team regroups on a rooftop. Gwen is catching her breath, Hobie is tuning his guitar, and Peter B. Parker gives you a concerned look.

“Are you okay?” Gwen asks, her voice laced with worry. “You weren’t yourself up there.”

The weight of the secret you’re carrying feels unbearable. But you're not ready to share it.

“Promise me you won’t tell Miguel about this,” you say, your voice barely audible.

Gwen raises an eyebrow, while Hobie crosses his arms. Peter B. Parker simply nods.

“Nah, Bossman doesn’t need to know about this,” Hobie says, and there’s a firmness in his voice that is strangely comforting.

Back in the HQ, your head spins, and your stomach feels like it's doing somersaults. You mumble a quick excuse about feeling nauseous and practically sprint to the nearest restroom.

Meanwhile, Gwen, Hobie, and Peter B. Parker head to the cafeteria to grab something to eat.

As they sit down at a table with their trays, Gwen breaks the silence. “Is it okay if I say that this mission was kind of easy? Like, I’ve seen Sunny take down Doc Ock from Earth-818, and she did that without any problem. So what was that today?” Gwen’s concern is apparent.

Hobie, munching on a sandwich, nods in agreement. "Yeah, it's like her spidey senses were jammed or somethin'. Never seen her like that before."

Peter B. Parker looks thoughtfully at his sandwich, then glances up at Gwen and Hobie. He’s torn, having promised you to keep your secret but also wanting your friends to understand why you were off your game.

"You guys remember when she fought Morlun on Earth-001? She was a totally smashin’ it, and today, she nearly got turned into spider-paste by a floating jellyfish. That ain’t right," Hobie adds.

Gwen’s eyes suddenly widen. "Oh my God! Do you think she’s in trouble? Like, something from her universe? Or maybe she's having an identity crisis! Should we stage an intervention?"

Peter B. Parker clears his throat. “Maybe she’s just having an off day.”

Gwen’s eyes narrow as she scrutinizes Peter. “You know something, don’t you?”

Peter scratches the back of his head, obviously uncomfortable. “Nope, no idea.”

Hobie puts down his sandwich and leans in. "Oi, mate. Spill your guts. There's something dodgy going on. She's always been our burst of sunshine, lifting the mood. But now she's... dimmed. What's going on with our Sunny, Parker?"

Before Peter B. Parker could answer Gwen’s barrage of questions, Jess - Spider-Woman - appears, her belly showing. She takes a seat at the table and, oblivious to the serious conversation that was taking place, asks them about their latest mission.

"So, how did your mission go?" Jessica asks, while munching on her Burger.

"Nothing to report, Jess," Gwen answers, a little too quickly, her face all sunshine and false smiles. Peter simply nod in agreement.

“Yah, all good!” Hobie chimes in, flashing a grin that seems a little too bright.

“How about you? How are you holding up?” Peter asks Jess, trying to steer the conversation away from the mission.

Jessica shrugs, not overly concerned, and bites into her burger. "'M good. You know, I'm so glad I can finally eat a burger again. At the beginning of my pregnancy, practically every food made me nauseous, especially after swinging around on missions.”

Suddenly, there's a moment of collective realization among Gwen, Hobie. It’s as if their spider senses are tingling in unison. They exchange knowing looks, all of them silently putting the pieces together.

Gwen’s eyes are wide, Hobie’s eyebrows are raised, and they both turn to look at Peter, who simply nods.

Jess, noticing the silent exchange, squints at them. “What is up with you guys? You’re acting weird. Well, weirder than usual.”

“Uh, nothin’!” Hobie says, a little too quickly.

“Yeah, just tired from the mission,” Gwen adds, trying to play it cool.

Jess rolls her eyes and stands up. “Alright, weirdos. I’m gonna go find some normal people to talk to,” she says jokingly and walks away.

After she leaves, the trio leans in.

“Sunny’s pregnant, isn’t she?” Gwen whispers.

Hobie's eyes are as wide as saucers. “That would explain everything!”

Peter B. Parker nods. “We need to be there for her, but remember, it’s her news to share when she’s ready.”

They make a pact to support you without pushing you to reveal anything before you're ready.

As you walk back into the cafeteria, you find your friends huddled together. They break apart when they see you and welcome you back with smiles and light conversation, but something in their demeanor is different but you can’t put your finger on it. They are being more attentive, considerate, and frankly, a little too curious about your well-being.

"Are you sure you're okay, Sunny?" Gwen asks for the third time since you sat down. Her concern is genuine, but her intensity is slightly off-putting.

"Yeah, do you need anything?" Hobie offers, his eyes gleaming with unspoken curiosity. "Food, drink, or maybe... pickles?" Pickles? Thats oddly specific.

There's a burst of laughter from Gwen, and even Peter is suppressing a chuckle.

"What's up with the pickles?" You ask, looking at them suspiciously.

"Oh, nothing!" Gwen says, a little too quickly, trying to hold back her laughter.

"Hmm, pickles and ice cream, a weird combo, innit?" Hobie wonders aloud, a mischievous grin spreading across his face.

Again, there's suppressed laughter, and you look at each of them, a realization slowly dawning on you. You turn to Peter, your gaze steady and serious. "You told them, didn't you?" Peter looks shocked, but quickly composes himself. "I didn't exactly tell them, per se," he confesses, "I might've confirmed their suspicions when they asked, but they figured it out on their own. Spider senses and all that jazz.”

Before you could respond, Gwen and Hobie jump in, both talking over each other in an attempt to apologize.

"We're sorry, Sunny," Gwen says sincerely. "We didn't mean to invade your privacy, it's just that... we're worried about you. Please don’t be mad."

Hobie nods, adding, "And we're right behind ya, whatever comes our way. We've got your back, no doubt about it."

You are happy, while the situation isn't ideal, but at least you're not alone. You have friends who care about you and, despite their unconventional way of showing it, they are there for you. You smile, comforted by their concern, and grateful for their support.

"Yeah," you finally say, "I guess we’re gonna need a lot more pickles and ice cream around here, huh?"

“Sooo...who’s the dad? Is he hot?” Gwen, leaning on the table with her elbows, asks shyly after a while.

You let out a long sigh, “He’s very hot... but also a colossal jerk.”

Peter raises an eyebrow. “You took my advice and talked to him then?”

You shake your head, your eyes starting to well up. “No, I tried. But he wouldn’t listen to me. He was busy, and I guess I wasn’t important enough. So, the baby won’t be either,” you say, your voice barely above a whisper.

Hobie's eyes narrow, and his face is flushed with anger. "Who's this bloke, eh? I swear on me nan's grave, I'll give him a right proper earful! No one treats our Sunny like a tosser and gets away with it!"

Gwen jumps in, her eyes wide with speculation, “Wait, is he a Spider? Is it Peter? Or the other Peter? Or—”

“Guys, guys!” you cut them off, your voice cracking. “Please, it doesn’t matter. He made it clear where I stand, and it’s not with him.”

There’s a silence that settles over the table as your friends look at each other and then back to you. Their faces are a mix of concern, sadness, and frustration.

Peter B. is the first to break the silence. “You don’t have to go through this alone. You’ve got us. If the dad doesn’t want to step up, then he’s missing out on something amazing.”

Gwen nods, her eyes firm with resolve. “Yeah, we’re family. We’ve got your back, no matter what.”

Hobie, still fuming, finally calms down enough to say, "All you gotta do is whistle, love, and we'll be there in a blink. Even if it means thumping some manners into this mystery idiot."

You can't help but crack a small smile, despite the tears. You’re overwhelmed by the love and support your friends are giving you.

“Thanks, guys. You don't know how much this means to me.”

They all reach out and there’s a group hug right in the middle of the cafeteria. You didn’t know how much you needed this until it happened.

Part 2 “Webs of Fate”

a/n: Thank you guys for all your love on this fic so far.I really appreciate each like, comment, reblog <3. I still can’t reply to your comments so please if you want to tagged (and are not already) comment on part 2 and I’ll do my best and add you.Also I am open to requests, critic and wishes. Have a wonderful day. xx

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pucksandpower · 2 months

Text

Too Sweet

Toto Wolff x Reader

Max Verstappen x ex!Reader

Summary: Max used to think that you’re too sweet for him … now he has to learn to live with the fact that Toto has quite a sweet tooth (inspired by the song that I’ve had on repeat)

I take my whiskеy neat

The doors to the upscale restaurant swing open and Max strides through, his fingers lightly grazing the small of your back as he guides you inside. The dimly lit interior is bustling with the chatter of well-heeled patrons enjoying their evening repasts. A sharply dressed hostess greets you with a polite smile.

“Good evening, sir. Welcome to The Sazerac Room. Do you have a reservation?”

“Verstappen,” Max replies curtly.

The hostess consults her tablet, then nods. “Right this way please.”

She leads the two of you through the elegant dining room, weaving between tables topped with crisp white linens and elaborate floral centerpieces. Max keeps his hand at your back, his thumb idly stroking in a soothing pattern as you take in the opulent surroundings with wide eyes.

“This place is incredible,” you murmur, craning your neck to admire the ornate chandeliers glittering overhead. “Thank you for bringing me here.”

He simply grunts in acknowledgment as the hostess stops before an intimate table tucked discreetly in the corner. After pulling out your chair for you with a flourish, she sets two leather-bound menus on the table.

“Your server will be right with you,” she informs them before departing with a polite nod.

You waste no time in opening your menu, hungrily perusing the offerings. “Oh Max, look at all these amazing cocktails! The La Vie en Rose sounds divine — rose liqueur, raspberries, lemon ...” You glance up at him hopefully. “We should get a couple of those to start.”

Max barely glances at his own menu before shaking his head. “I’ll just have a whiskey neat.”

Your face falls slightly at his brusque response. “Are you sure? These all look so good! We should live a little and try something fun for once.”

He fixes you with a stern look from across the table. “You know I don’t like frilly drinks. Now stop pestering me about it.”

Chastened by his harsh tone, you lapse into a wounded silence and continue reading the menu with diminished enthusiasm. A few moments later, a dapper middle-aged gentleman in a crisp suit appears at your table.

“Good evening, and welcome to The Sazerac Room. My name is William and I’ll be your server this evening.” With a polite smile, he produces a notepad from his breast pocket. “May I start you off with something to drink?”

You glance back at Max, giving him one last chance to change his mind. When he simply gazes back at you impassively, you sigh. “I’ll have the La Vie en Rose cocktail, please.”

William jots down your order before turning to Max expectantly.

“Whiskey neat,” Max says flatly. “Redbreast 27 Year, if you have it.”

“An excellent choice, sir.” William makes a note. “And may I bring you both some bread from our bakery while you decide on your meals?”

“That would be wonderful, thank you,” you reply gratefully.

William departs to place the drink orders, leaving you and Max alone once more. An awkward silence stretches between you, filled only by the tinkle of silverware and murmurs of conversation from surrounding tables.

Finally, you try again. “Max, are you sure I can’t tempt you with one little sip? This La Vie en Rose cocktail sounds absolutely divine. You might lov-”

“For fuck’s sake!” Max suddenly explodes, slamming his menu down on the table hard enough to rattle the cutlery. “How many times do I have to tell you I don’t want any of your ridiculous fruity bullshit? I’m a fucking race car driver, not some ridiculous Instagram model trying to look pretty with my drink.”

His nostrils flare as he leans across the table, eyes flashing with irritation that you would dare continue to push the issue. “I’ve had a long fucking day and I am going to drink whatever the fuck I want. So order your stupid fucking girly cocktail if you must, but don’t act so goddamn disappointed and keep shoving it in my face when I say no.”

You shrink back in your chair, eyes widening with hurt at his enraged outburst. The crestfallen look on your face is enough to douse Max’s fury like a bucket of ice water. He slumps back, remorse already stirring as he witnesses the light dimming in your eyes, lips trembling ever so slightly as you blink back sudden tears.

“I … I was just excited to try something new together,” you whisper shakily. “But never mind. You’re right, I’m sorry.”

The arrival of William with a basket of assorted breads and your glittering pink cocktail garnished with raspberries provides a merciful distraction from the tension.

You immediately reach for the drink, wrapping your hands around the delicate stemmed glass and taking a large gulp — both to avoid making eye contact with Max and to sample your coveted libation.

A look of bliss softens your features as the tart, sugary concoction bursts across your taste buds. “Mmm, this is incredible!”

For a beat, Max can’t help but drink in your look of pure enjoyment — the way your eyes flutter closed in delight, pink lips quirking into a contented smile as you savor each sip. It simultaneously tugs at his heartstrings and fills him with an irrational stab of resentment.

Here you are, sweet and radiant, able to find joy in the simplest of things … while he is just a miserable bastard who can’t let himself enjoy anything without getting irrationally angry.

You deserve so much better than him.

The thought is sobering and he feels shame burn hot in his gut. Unconsciously, his shoulders slump as he watches you take another euphoric sip of your cocktail.

“I knew it, this is amazing,” you sigh happily, seemingly recovered from his earlier tantrum as you bask in the deliciousness of your drink. “Max, you have to try just one little-”

“No.” The refusal is automatic, the word slicing through your offer before he can think better of it.

Your face shutters once more, the bright light in your eyes dimming as your smile fades into resignation. With a soft exhale, you set your glass down and reach for the bread basket instead.

“Suit yourself, then.”

As you silently butter a roll, Max finds himself at a rare loss, anger dissipating into regret as the knot in his stomach tightens painfully. Tonight was supposed to be a celebration after his impressive win on the track, a chance for the two of you to enjoy each other’s company and make more happy memories together.

Instead, he’s gone and ruined the mood … again … just like he always does.

***

“Another round?” Checo’s voice cuts through the sound of laughter and chatter around the table.

Max glances up distractedly from pushing the remaining bits of food around his plate. He, Checo, and a few other members of the Red Bull team are celebrating a successful Monaco Grand Prix. Despite making the podium, Max’s mind hasn’t really been on the festivities.

“I’m all set, thanks,” he mutters, raising his glass of whiskey with a tight smile before taking a sip. His gaze drifts across the opulent dining room of Cipriani Monte Carlo, idly scanning the crowd of wealthy patrons enjoying their evening meals.

That’s when his eyes catch on a shockingly familiar figure.

You.

Sitting at an intimate corner table, bathed in the soft glow of a candle’s flickering flame. For a moment, Max’s breath catches in his throat as a thousand bittersweet memories assault him all at once.

The hurt look on your face that night at The Sazerac Room … the resignation in your eyes as you accepted, yet again, that he would never be able to appreciate the sweet, simple pleasures that brought you such joy ...

The cold, empty silence that descended over your apartment when he finally left for good, stuffing his belongings into a duffel bag as you watched with trembling lips from across the room ...

Max blinks, and the moment passes — but his gaze remains riveted to your table. Because there, sitting across from you with adoration written across his insufferable face … is Toto Wolff.

Max feels his lips curl into an unconscious sneer as the Mercedes team principal murmurs something to you with a gentle smile, reaching across to delicately brush a lock of hair behind your ear. You catch Toto’s hand as it falls, pressing a tender kiss into his palm that makes the older man’s expression soften even further.

Your waiter arrives then, providing a momentary distraction as he lays out a couple of fresh cocktails on crisp white linen — a bright purple concoction garnished with a sugared rim and a plump cherry for you and an amber-hued old fashioned for Toto.

Your eyes light up as you take in the colorful beverage, immediately wrapping your hands around the delicate stemmed glass and bringing it to your lips to sample. A look of pure delight crosses your features as the no doubt sugary drink bursts across your taste buds.

“Mmm ...” you hum in pleasure, causing Toto to chuckle affectionately as he watches you enjoy the first reveling sips.

Setting your glass down, you gesture enthusiastically toward it as you address Toto. “This is incredible! You have to try it.”

Without hesitation, the Mercedes team boss dutifully leans across the table to take a long pull from your straw. Max watches with a mixture of disgust and morbid fascination as Toto’s expression morphs into one of surprised enjoyment.

“Wow, that is quite good, isn’t it?” Toto remarks with an indulgent grin, licking a telltale dab of purple syrup from the corner of his mouth.

“I told you!” You crow in delight, eyes sparkling with unrestrained glee.

The pure joy radiating from you in that moment is enough to make Max’s heart clench in his chest. He has seen that look before, so many times — whenever he deigned to let go of his surly demeanor for even a moment and actually indulge whatever fleeting whim or simple pleasure you desired to share with him.

But it was always so short-lived with him, stamped out by his own stubborn refusal to truly embrace anything resembling happiness or frivolity. You deserved so much more than his constant scowling and gruff rebuffs.

As if reading his thoughts, Toto then leans across the table to tenderly capture your lips in a soft, lingering kiss. The gentle intimacy of it makes Max’s gut churn as a feeling too complicated to fully unpack blossoms in his chest.

When you finally part, both of you are smiling at each other with such open, unguarded adoration that it’s almost obscene to witness. Toto reaches out to cradle your face in his palm as your lips find his once more in another chaste, loving caress.

This time, when you pull away, you let your head loll back with a look of pure bliss. Something deep within Max cracks and splinters at the sight. In a haze, he finds himself drifting back through the churning currents of memory ...

… that last, fateful shouting match in your living room, both of you red-faced and furious as the dam holding back all the anger and resentment and accusations that had been building for months finally burst ...

… you weeping silently as you clutched a meager trash bag containing what little remained of his belongings, not even able to look at him for fear of collapsing completely ...

… “I’m too sweet for you, Max. You’ve made that perfectly clear.”

The acid words burn in his mind even now, feeling as fresh and raw as that night they were spat out like venom between you. His chest constricts as his gaze falls guiltily back to the present day scene in front of him.

Toto and you, basking in the warm, rosy glow of new love — careless and unrestrained in your public affection. Delighting in each other’s company and simple pleasures … just as you always desired for Max to do, yet he could never fully surrender to.

The display is like a twisted mirror, taunting him with the vibrant reflection of what he threw away. What he was too foolish, too emotionally stunted and uncaring to fully appreciate at the time.

Stumbling from his chair in a daze, Max barely registers the questioning looks and concerned murmurs from his team as he staggers from the dining room. He hardly makes it to the privacy of the restroom before bending at the waist, hefting the contents of his stomach into the thankfully pristine porcelain basin.

The whiskey burns on the way back up.

Max grips the edges of the counter, face contorted in anguish as a realization washes over him in searing waves.

You were the real prize all along … and now, he’s lost you for good.

My coffee black

The drone of announcements over the PA system and the dull roar of hundreds of people bustling to and fro mingles into an ever-present white noise hum. Max trudges ahead, the brim of his ball cap tugged low as he weaves through the teeming crowds filing through the airports’ terminals.

It’s just after 5 am, the start of another grueling race week. This time the travel will take you from the Middle Eastern leg of the circuit to the other side of the world in Australia. Twenty-plus hours of planes, layovers, and jet lag beckon — a prospect that grows less and less appealing with each passing season.

A warm weight presses against his side as you shuffle along beside him, head lolling adorably as you struggle to keep your eyes open. One slender hand is looped through the crook of his elbow, gripping the strap of your carry-on bag with the other. You let out a jaw-cracking yawn, leaning into Max’s solid bulk.

“I need coffee,” you mumble groggily. “I’m barely conscious.”

He shoots you a sidelong glance, mouth quirking ever-so-slightly at your dramatics. As grating as your tendency for excessive cheerfulness can be at times, he does admire your ability to shake off the fatigue and stress that plagues him more and more these days.

“There’s one of those chains up ahead,” he grunts, nodding toward the familiar logo peeking through from around the corner.

You light up immediately, straightening and quickening your shuffling steps in anticipation of the caffeinated boost soon to come. By the time you reach the counter, there’s a bright spark back in your eyes that makes the exhaustion plaguing Max’s own limbs feel slightly more bearable.

The barista, a pimple-faced youth who can’t be any older than 18, greets you with a too-wide smile. “Welcome to Daily Grind! What can I get started for you?”

You lean in eagerly, surveying the massive display of chalkboard signs advertising the latest sugar bombs and “coffee” concoctions designed to appease the basic palates of everyday people who wouldn’t know a good cup of joe if it slapped them across the face. Max scowls, already anticipating some ridiculously saccharine order.

“I’ll have a large cinnamon honey oat milk latte, please,” you chirp, as expected.

The barista marks down your request with a perky nod. “Excellent! And for you, sir?”

“Black coffee,” Max replies flatly. “Medium.”

Your brow furrows as you shoot him a quizzical look. “Just black coffee? Not even a splash of cream or anything?”

He shakes his head tersely, one hand already rummaging in his pocket for his wallet as the barista rattles off the total. “We’re in a rush as it is, and that sugary nonsense you ordered takes forever to make with all the fussy bullshit they do to it.”

You wince at his blunt assessment, shoulders slumping a bit in a way that makes a pang of guilt flicker through Max’s chest. He doesn’t mean to be so harsh … but sometimes it’s like the more considerate side of his nature has been ground away by years of constant training and calculating every single variable down to the most minute detail.

The poor kid working the register seems to shrink under the intensity of Max’s gruff demeanor. With shaky hands, he quickly processes the payment before stammering out your total. As you shuffle off to the side to wait for your orders, Max can’t help but keep picking.

“Honestly, I don’t know why you insist on ordering those stupid drinks that are 90% milk and trash,” he mutters, shooting you a disapproving look. “Barely any actual coffee at all.”

You frown, immediately hunching into yourself a bit as you cradle a handful of napkins against your chest. “It’s not like that coffee flavor isn’t there at all,” you argue meekly. “And I have to get some kind of caffeine boost to stay awake during all these flights and race weekends. I just … I don’t really like the taste of black coffee.”

Max scoffs loudly at that, shaking his head in open derision. “Sure, because drinking just regular black coffee like an adult would be too difficult. Instead you have to get your ‘caffeine boost’ from some tooth-rottingly sweet concoction that looks like something a child would order.”

The barista shifts uncomfortably behind the counter, clearly flustered by Max’s abrasive tone. Not that he cares — he’s been dealing with people gawking at him in public for years now. What does rub him the wrong way is the wounded look spreading across your delicate features, eyes dropping to stare dejectedly at the floor.

He opens his mouth to continue chiding you, but at that moment the barista appears with your drinks. The sweet, cinnamony aroma of your order hits Max’s nostrils like a slap in the face, making his nose wrinkle on instinct. You accept your oversized paper cup gratefully, hands automatically curling around the comforting warmth.

With visible enthusiasm, you bring the drink to your lips, unable to resist taking a sip despite the scalding temperature. Max tracks the minute changes in your expression — the slight widening of your eyes, the upward quirk of your lips into a smile of unalloyed contentment. Your lashes flutter closed on a quiet hum of blissful appreciation.

“Mmm … heaven,” you practically moan, hunching over your cup as though to better inhale the revitalizing notes of sugar and spice.

It makes Max want to retch, watching you so unashamedly indulging in such vapid, artificial flavors. How can you find such simple-minded pleasure in that, when you could be savoring the bold, robust notes of a proper cup of black coffee? One meant to awaken the senses and caress the taste buds with its smoky aroma and rich, nuanced flavor notes.

“You can’t honestly get any enjoyment from basically drinking hot milk and flavored syrups,” he mutters, sneering at the offensive beverage in your grasp.

In response, you simply shift closer to him until you’re pressed alongside his body. Your free hand snakes around his bicep, squeezing gently as you tilt your head back to gaze up at him imploringly. Exhaustion and hurt war openly with the angelic softness of your delicate features.

“Max … can’t you just let me enjoy this?” You plead in a low murmur. “It’s early, and we’ve got a long flight ahead.”

His jaw clenches stubbornly, unwilling to back down so easily. Caffeine and sleep deprivation have eroded his already thin sense of decorum.

“I’m just saying, drinking a syrupy dessert drink loaded with sugar and god knows what else isn’t doing you any favors. You might as well just stick to black coffee like a normal adult if you want to be awake and energized.”

The wounded look in your eyes deepens into something more somber and resigned. Slowly, you pull away from Max’s side until a noticeable distance stretches between your bodies. Something inside him shrivels at the loss of contact. Your slender fingers work feverishly at the cup’s lid until it pops off with a dull thunk.

Max stares blankly as you march over to the nearest trash can and upend the contents of your cup into the receptacle. You don’t even seem to hesitate — simply turn on your heel and hurl the now-empty cup in after the wasted drink. It clatters hollowly against the canister, mocking and empty.

When you turn back to face Max, the sight makes the now-lukewarm coffee sitting neglected in his own cup feels like a lead weight in his gut. Your arms are wrapped protectively around yourself, hunched against some unseen foe. Head bowed, you refuse to meet his gaze as you slowly make your way back over to where he stands rooted to the spot in stunned silence.

It’s only as you draw up beside him that Max notices the twin tear tracks striping your cheeks. Your chin remains stubbornly trembling, but you make no move to wipe at the tears now falling freely. Max’s chest constricts almost painfully at the sight of your misery, the guilt gnawing at him as the reality sets in.

He is the reason for it. His harsh, uncompromising tongue has wounded you in one of the cruelest ways once again. Too strict, too unyielding, too incapable of allowing even the smallest indulgences that bring you simple joy without sneering dismissal.

For several agonizing moments, the two of you stand in silence amid the milling crowds of travelers streaming past. Max can’t bring himself to meet your gaze, knowing he’ll only find the depths of his own callous thoughtlessness reflected back at him in your swimming eyes.

Finally, you release a shuddering sigh that sounds far too weighted for someone of your sweetness and light. When you speak, your voice is little more than a tremulous murmur laced with dejection.

“Let’s just go to the gate, Max.”

You brush past him without another word, leaving him to trail numbly in your wake as shame burns a hole through his gut. He watches as your form disappears into the throngs, shoulders already beginning to hunch inward as that spark of happiness in you gutters and fades.

Lingering behind, Max’s gaze falls to the empty cup lying crumpled and discarded in the trash. A reminder of yet another instance where his unchecked tongue and inability to empathize has spoiled an innocent attempt at simple pleasure.

His coffee suddenly tastes like ash on his tongue.

As he moves to dump the neglected drink into the nearby basin, Max wonders with a sinking feeling just how many more times he’ll be able to snuff out your light before it dwindles to nothing.

***

The late morning sun bears down with oppressive force, causing a mirage-like haze to shimmer over the sweltering asphalt of the paddock. Despite being early summer, the Spanish air is already thick and heavy enough to bathe Max’s skin in a sheen of perspiration as he trudges toward the Red Bull Energy Station.

Ahead, he spots a cluster of people milling aimlessly near the entrance to the Mercedes motorhome. At the center appears to be you, head tilted back in unrestrained laughter at something George Russell is regaling you with. The British driver is equally animated, pale features scrunched up in exaggerated motions as he relays what is no doubt an amusing tale.

Max feels his steps gradually slow of their own accord as he takes you in from a distance. You seem utterly at ease and in your element — cheeky grin splitting your face, one hand toying idly with the ends of your hair as your eyes crinkle with unbridled mirth.

A pure vision of effortless contentment.

His gut clenches unexpectedly, unbidden memories of how he methodically chipped away at that very lightness in you until it was all but extinguished washing over him in a nauseating wave. How quickly he took such simple joys for granted ...

So transfixed is he by the sight of your open, honest amusement that Max barely notices the figure slipping up behind you. Not until Toto Wolff raises a conspiratorial finger to his lips, eyes twinkling impishly as he pantomimes for silence at a sputtering George.

You remain oblivious even as the Mercedes team principal slides flush against your back, looping one arm around your waist to tug you snug against his chest. With his free hand, Toto cups it teasingly over your eyes — to which you release a tinkling peal of laughter.

“Guess who?” The playful lilt of the older man’s Austrian lilt is unmistakable, dripping with honeyed warmth.

“Hmm … I wonder,” you murmur coyly, making a show of tapping your chin in feigned confusion. “Is it a dashing gentleman caller here to sweep me off my feet?”

Toto chuckles deeply in your ear, the sound positively dripping with unguarded affection. “Only if you’ll have me, liebling.”

Craning your head back with a cheeky grin, your arms instinctively wind around his neck as you stretch up on your tiptoes to greet him properly. Toto meets your lips in a lingering, languid kiss that has George hastily clearing his throat and looking resolutely anywhere but at the affectionate display before him.

When you finally part, all radiant smiles and flushed cheeks, it’s like the rest of the world has completely fallen away. Toto gazes down at you with such pure adoration that Max feels his throat constrict as though a belt is suddenly cinched tight around it.

“I have a surprise for you, schnucki,” Toto murmurs huskily, lips brushing your temple as he speaks.

You light up like a kid on Christmas morning, practically vibrating with excitement at his words. “Oh? Do tell!”

With a wink and roguish smile, Toto brandishes his other hand from behind his back — in it, clutched protectively, is a large cup topped with whipped cream and what looks like edible flower petals sprinkled over the top. The light purple hue of the iced contents catches in the bright sun, refracting a prism of soft, delicate colors.

“I had the barista in our hospitality whip this up for you,” Toto explains fondly. “After I mentioned how much you enjoy trying unique coffee flavors. It’s a lavender vanilla iced latte.”

Your mouth drops open in a perfect ‘o’ of delight as you instinctively make grabby motions toward the tantalizing beverage. Max recognizes that earnest enthusiasm all too well. It’s the same look you used to get whenever presented with any unique taste or experience to appreciate.

A look he always met with disdain and scorn.

Toto doesn’t hesitate for a second before depositing the cup into your greedy hands. You immediately cradle it reverently, as though it’s the most precious thing you’ve ever held. Ducking your head, you take a long pull through the striped paper straw.

The expression that blossoms across your features as that first taste bursts over your tongue is one of pure, unadulterated bliss. Your eyes flutter closed on a muffled moan of sinful enjoyment, lips pursing as though savoring each individual note of flavor. Max hasn’t seen you look that unguardedly delighted by anything in … well, he can’t actually recall the last time.

“Oh Toto, this is heavenly!” You gush, swiping your tongue across your lower lip to catch a stray drop of condensation. “The lavender is subtle, but gives it such a uniquely fresh and floral twist. And the vanilla adds this creamy sweetness that keeps it from being overwhelming.”

You open your eyes to beam radiantly up at the older man, who returns your luminous smile with equal warmth. “It’s perfect, thank you! You have to try it.”

Without prompting, you eagerly offer the cup up to Toto. He accepts it with an indulgent chuckle, locking eyes with you as he takes a contemplative sip — no doubt eager to share in whatever fleeting moment of bliss the simple drink has brought you.

Unlike Max, who would have turned up his nose and likely received it with derision, Toto seems to savor the complex blend of flavors. Humming thoughtfully, he swipes his tongue across his upper lip as though committing each separate note to memory.

“You’re quite right, liebling,” he agrees readily, “this is delightful. So refreshing for this heat. I may have to acquire a taste for these iced coffees myself.”

You positively glow at his assessment, lighting up from within like a joyful little sun. Max is helpless before the storm of emotions suddenly ripping through him at the sight.

“Oh! That reminds me,” you chirp giddily, bouncing on the balls of your feet, “I was talking to the barista about maybe incorporating some other floral syrups for iced coffees too. Like rose or hibiscus! And maybe we could get her to try making those fun layered drinks with the espresso on the bottom-”

Toto’s deep belly laugh cuts off your stream of eager rambling. Without warning, he snakes an arm around your waist and tugs you flush against him once more. You let out a startled giggle as he buries his nose in the crook of your neck, lips brushing the feverish pulse point just beneath your jaw.

“You adorable thing,” he rumbles warmly, words slightly muffled against your skin as he presses a languid line of kisses along the sharp line of your jaw. “So enthusiastic about the simplest pleasures in life ...”

Pulling back, Toto lifts one hand to tenderly cradle the side of your face. You automatically nuzzle into his palm with a look of such smitten devotion that it makes Max’s heart stutter behind his ribcage. When Toto leans in to seal his lips over yours once more, the kiss is deep and thoroughly unhurried — as though the two of you have all the time in the world to savor this intimate little moment.

Max’s hands clench into white-knuckled fists, blunt nails biting crescent moons into his clammy palms. He should turn away, leave you to your blissful display with someone who so clearly appreciates you. Yet he remains rooted in place, unable to tear his eyes from the scene unfolding before him.

It’s like witnessing an alternate universe version of your shared lives play out in vivid, scorching detail.

In this reality, Toto is the one tenderly stroking the pad of his thumb over the elegant arch of your cheekbone as the two of you part, drinking in the sight of your passion-addled features hungrily. He is the one basking in the radiance of your bright and unrestrained joy. Celebrating each of your simple thrills, from the most frivolous of flavored coffees to the sensual graze of skin on skin.

And where does that leave Max? An outsider peering in at paradise with his face smeared against the glass, watching the warmth and affection he could never fully embrace slowly slip through his calloused fingers.

And my bed at three

The mattress shifts, the subtle movement rousing Max from his slumber. He cracks one eye open to find the space next to him empty, the sheets disheveled where you had lain.

A glance at the digital clock on the nightstand tells him it’s not yet 5 am. Where are you going at this hour?

He hears faint rustling from the living area of the hotel suite, followed by the soft click of the door. Groaning, he kicks off the covers and pads out of the bedroom, the plush carpet warm beneath his bare feet.

You’re sitting on the couch, slipping into a pair of flats. “What are you doing up so early?” He asks, his voice still husky from sleep.

You look up, startled. “Oh, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to wake you.�� A soft smile plays on your lips. “I was going to watch the sunrise.”

Max rakes a hand through his tousled hair. “Why would you want to do that?”

“Because it’s beautiful.” Your eyes sparkle with an excitement he can’t comprehend this early in the morning. “The colors, the way the light slowly creeps over the horizon — it’s just magical.”

He snorts. “It happens every day. Nothing magical about it.”

Your face falls ever so slightly, and it tugs at something in his chest. But the feeling is fleeting, replaced by annoyance at having his sleep disturbed for something so trivial. “So you didn’t want to join me, then?” You ask, almost timidly.

“And wake up before the ass-crack of dawn? No thanks.” He flops onto the couch beside you with a huff. “I was up until 3 am sim racing. Not all of us find staring at the sky such riveting entertainment.”

You say nothing, simply nodding as you avert your gaze. The light in your eyes has dimmed, and he feels a pang of guilt. But he shakes it off — it’s far too early for this kind of whimsical nonsense.

“Suit yourself,” he mutters. “I’m going back to bed.”

He doesn’t see the way your shoulders droop as he turns and trudges back towards the bedroom. Doesn’t see the tears that prick at the corners of your eyes before you blink them away and readjust the set of your jaw with determination.

Max burrows under the covers, fully intent on drifting back into oblivion. But sleep evades him, his mind buzzing with a peculiar restlessness. He punches his pillow into a more suitable shape, flips it over to the cool side, but still he lies awake, listening to the silence that fills the suite.

After what feels like an eternity, curiosity gets the better of him. He kicks off the covers once more and pads over to the floor-to-ceiling windows that overlook the city street below. Sure enough, there you are, a tiny figure perched on a bench across the way, your face tipped up towards the slowly lightening sky.

Max leans his forehead against the cool glass, watching as the inky blackness of night gives way to soft shades of periwinkle and lilac. Slowly, the colors deepen into blazing pinks and vibrant oranges that streak across the heavens. The sky ignites in a brilliant blaze of crimson and gold, the clouds set afire by the rising sun.

And there you sit, bathed in the dawn’s ethereal glow, utterly transfixed. In this light, your features seem softer, more at peace than he’s seen you in a long while. A smile plays on your lips, genuine and unguarded, as you take in the spectacle unfolding before you.

Max finds himself holding his breath, as if the slightest movement might shatter the magic of this moment. He’s never seen you look more beautiful, more alive than in these fleeting minutes as day breaks over the city.

A rare pang of tenderness blooms in his chest, quickly overshadowed by a creeping sense of unease. He isn’t certain how much time has passed before the brilliant hues fade into the pale blue of morning, but eventually you rise from the bench, taking one last, lingering look at the sky before turning and disappearing from view.

Max exhales slowly, his breath fogging up the glass. He isn’t proud of how he dismissed your simple joy, that spark of wonderment at the little things that he so often takes for granted.

An emptiness settles in the pit of his stomach, the guilt heavier than before. How many other moments has he trampled on in his relentless pursuit of success?

He thinks of your radiant smile, how it lit up the pre-dawn gloom more vibrantly than the sunrise itself. With a sigh, Max turns away from the window, already dreading the apology he knows he owes you.

Because in that single, breathtaking moment, he realizes just how lucky he is to have someone like you in his life. Someone who can find magic in the mundane, beauty in the simple things he’s become blind to along the way.

Someone, Max fears, who may be too sweet for him.

***

Max gives up on sleep around 4:30 am, as he has for the past several weeks. Insomnia has become his constant, unwanted companion, leaving him tossing and turning until the first hints of dawn creep through the curtains. On nights like this, slumber remains persistently out of reach no matter how exhausted he feels.

He lies in bed, staring at the ceiling as the brightening sky slowly illuminates the room. It wasn’t always this way — he used to be able to sleep like the dead after a race weekend, knocked out by the physical and mental exertion. But lately, his mind refuses to shut off, thoughts swirling endlessly until his head pounds.

With a groan, Max kicks off the tangled sheets and drags himself out of bed. Maybe going for a run will quiet the racket in his brain, at least for a little while. He dresses quickly, lacing up his trainers and grabbing his earbuds before heading out into the semi-darkness.

The pre-dawn streets are blissfully empty as he starts off at an easy jog. He despises becoming one of those obnoxious morning people, but exhaustion has a way of stripping away one’s self-respect. If pounding the pavement before the rest of the world awakes is what it takes to catch a few hours of sleep, so be it.

His route takes him along the harbor, the gentle lapping of the waves against the seawall providing a soothing soundtrack. The first rays of sunlight glint off the glassy surface, and he finds himself averting his gaze, oddly resentful of the impending sunrise.

It wasn’t so long ago that he scoffed at your eagerness to greet each new day. But ever since you’ve been gone from his life, those brilliant, fleeting moments of beauty have begun to mock him at every turn.

He picks up his pace, as if he can outrun the rising sun and the flood of memories it brings. But there’s no escaping the vivid flashes of you, smiling radiantly as the world awakes in a blaze of fiery hues. Or the hollow ache that twinges somewhere beneath his rib cage whenever he’s reminded of just how little he appreciated you.

So lost is he in his circling thoughts that he nearly runs right into you, appearing abruptly on the path ahead. His trainers skid against the pavement as he grinds to a halt, his heart stammering in his chest.

“Max?” You blink up at him, clearly startled by his sudden presence.

He opens his mouth, an automatic apology rising to his lips — until his eyes zero in on the camera clutched in your hands. Of course. Still chasing sunrises after all these years.

A wry grin tugs at the corner of your mouth as you take in his rumpled running attire. “Fancy meeting you here.”

Max says nothing, his gaze flickering briefly towards the brightening horizon before fixing on you once more. You look … well, radiant as ever, lit by the soft morning glow. A small pang of something — longing, maybe — twists in his gut.

“Out enjoying another sunrise, I see,” he says at last, nodding towards the camera.

You glance down at it fondly. “Well, you know how it is. I have to capture them while I can.” A teasing lilt edges into your voice. “Not all of us are night owls.”

He huffs out a humorless laugh. “I’ll never understand what’s so fascinating about watching the same thing happen day after day.”

“But that’s just it — each one is different. Unique and fleeting and … breathtaking.” Your eyes spark with that gentle wonderment he remembers so well, the sight sending a tremor through his chest. “Like getting a front row seat to the greatest show on Earth, but it’s one you’ll never see again.”

You trail off with a small shake of your head, seemingly at a loss to put the feeling into words. Max doesn’t need the explanation — he’s seen that look of childlike awe on your face more times than he can count.

An awkward silence stretches between you, laden with the weight of history and unspoken apologies. You shift your stance, mouth opening as if to say something more.

But Max cuts you off before you can get the words out, unable to bear whatever sentiments might cross those sweet lips of yours. “Toto not joining you this time?” He asks gruffly.

Your expression softens into a fond smile, and it’s like a physical blow to Max’s sternum. He knows that look, has been on the receiving end of it more times than he cares to remember. The way your entire being seems to brighten when you so much as think about someone you love.

“Ah, you know Toto — he’s more of a sunset person,” you say with a light laugh. “I’ve never been able to drag his grumpy butt out of bed for a sunrise.”

Even as his insides curdle with jealousy, Max can’t help the quirk of his lips at the mental image. He could all too easily picture Toto swatting irritably at you, burrowing deeper under the covers to escape the blasted sun.

“But we make it work,” you continue, that loving glow refusing to dim from your eyes. “I take photos of the sunrise to share with him later. And he does the same with the sunsets for me. That way, we both get to experience it in a way.”

The gentle sound of your voice washes over Max like a salve, momentarily easing the tangled knot of regret and longing that’s taken up permanent residence inside him. He watches, transfixed, as the early morning light bathes you in ethereal radiance.

In that moment, he sees it so clearly — the depth of give and take in your relationship with Toto. The effort, large and small, that you both put into nurturing one another’s happiness.

Even when your desires don’t perfectly align. Even when compromise is required.

It’s such a simple gesture, capturing those magical moments to share with your loved one. But it’s one Max was never willing to make when you were with him.

A lump forms in his throat as realization washes over him with unforgiving clarity. You weren’t too sweet for him, as he had so arrogantly assumed time and again. No — the truth, much harder to swallow, is that he was simply too sour for you.

Too selfish, too wrapped up in his own ambitions to make even the smallest concession. Too blind to recognize the magic in the simple things that brought you unbridled joy. Too bitter and jaded to embrace and nurture the beautiful nature that made you … well, you.

And now, after all his careless cruelties and wasted chances, he can only stand idly by and watch as someone else basks in the sweetness of your affection. As someone else goes out of their way, day after day, to put that blinding smile on your face and those stars in your eyes.

Something in Max’s chest cracks and crumbles at the injustice of it all. At the agonizing truth that he let the best thing in his life slip through his fingers, all because he couldn’t be bothered to change his sullen ways.

Because you were never too sweet for him … he was too sour for you.

3K notes · View notes

cosmicschmidt · 6 months

Text

UNTIL I FOUND YOU

PART 2, PART 3

Coriolanus Snow x fem!Reader

Synopsis: When the 18 year old Coriolanus Snow recieves the news that he has to mentor a tribute in order to claim the Plinth Prize, he expected everything but not a shy girl from district 12 to claim his heart.

Word count: 2,4K

Warnings: Lucy Gray does not exsist in this (I´m sorry), some things might not fully add up to the movie plot ´cause I only saw it once and that was two days ago, use of Y/N, it´s implied that the reader is shorter than Coryo, small swearing, simple inhumane Hunger Games topics

Reblogs and requests are always welcomed <3 (just like pointing out grammatical mistakes :))

Coriolanus Snow did not mean for this to happen.

He did not intend to have this weird tingly feeling in his chest every time he caught a glimpse of her.

He did not mean to fall for his tribute from District 12.

As he patiently sat in his seat with his heart hammering in his chest due to not knowing if he´d receive the scholarship, adrenaline and excitement ran through his veins.

Yet, that was taken from him the moment Sejanus Plinth whispered to him that that certain day he looked forward to would not turn out as he hoped.

The Plinth Prize was won by the best mentor.

Each of them has to mentor a tribute and create the best version of them, create strategies and work on their behavior in the arena.

As all the tributes are presented, their names called alongside their mentors, Coriolanus´ hands start to sweat the longer he is not told who he has to work with.

The faces of his fellow students show different emotions, some cheer in happiness at their tributes state, others are laced with worry if their tribute even manages to walk straight.

"And last but not least, the girl from District 12, Coriolanus Snow."

His eyes shoot back to the small screen, his gaze falls to the name written underneath the short clip, Y/N L/N.

"I volunteer as tribute."

The screen shows a screaming girl, around the age of 11 as she trashes in the hold of someone else´s arms, desperately trying to escape their grasp to reach the other girl.

The other girl's face is slightly blurred due to the wide angle of the camera that is following her figure, but as the picture clears up, Coriolanus can´t help but suck in a breath.

A weird feeling boils in his chest that causes his heartbeat to pick up behind his ribcage, just as he thought it couldn´t get worse a few butterflies form in his stomach causing his white tunic to suddenly feel tighter. His hands go to the collar pulling a little on the fabric to calm his heartbeat.

The tribute from 12, stepped in for the younger girl and took her fate as her own. The girl, now known as Y/N doesn´t look back at the screaming girl, she takes small steps to the stage and steps on it the moment she reaches it.

Although her hands tremble beside her body, her eyes are stern and show no emotion, successfully keeping herself from spilling the dread that formed in her chest the moment her little sister's name was called.

"What a twist! Our first ever volunteer of 12, what an honor." the 12´s mayor speaks, yet no reaction falls from the crowd at his attempt to lighten the mood.

"I suppose that was your sister? Sweet little thing just turned 12, but luckily she has you as her big sister." Mayor Lipp tries to create small talk, but Y/N doesn´t seem to take interest in that, her eyes boring into the camera that is fixated on her face.

Everyone that surrounds Coriolanus watches intensely and waits for her next words.

Y/N´s jaw clenches a little as her gaze wanders over her district's citizens, some laugh at her situation, while others, alongside her family have tears in their eyes and hold a hand in front of their mouths to contain a sob from spilling past their lips.

Instead of words leaving her mouth, she does a mocking and overly dramatic bend forward with her arms stretched out on each side of her body.

Just as two Peacekeepers grab a hold of her arms and pull her off the stage she yells out,

"YOU CAN ALL SUCK I-" but her words muffle due to her being pulled away.

Meanwhile, everyone around Coriolanus starts to whisper.

Some voice behind him, "Who does she think she is?"

"Imagine having to work with that, guess who won´t win the Plinth Prize.." followed by laughing.

And more to his left, "The audacity, I´m telling you she´s the first to bleed out." followed by more remarks and chuckles.

Though Coriolanus can’t feel bothered by their remarks, as he watches her being dragged away from the stage with a stern look on her face.

The blonde watches with bewilderment yet with respect for her volunteering for someone else, a small smirk forming on his face as the side of his mouth pull up a little.

* ˚ ✦

Coriolanus´ gaze is fixated on the white rose in his palms, his eyes trail over each and every flaw he can spot.

Is it pretty enough?

Or is this gesture not normal in the relationship between a mentor and their tribute?

He wonders how you might react to this act of politeness, yet before he can keep up with his thoughts he´s pulled out of it when he hears the train near the train station.

There it is, it glides against the train racks before it comes to a harsh stop with a small screech, the blonde´s eyes trail over the different train carts, wondering where the certain girl from 12 is being kept.

At least a dozen armed Peacekeepers emerge from around the station, and the first cart´s handle is grabbed forcefully and shoved open, a small girl hesitantly jumps down to the ground, before she erupts into a few coughs as if she has to catch her breath from taking a run.

She´s followed by a tall boy who wears a expression he can´t read, although his brows are furrowed and a small line forms between them. The tall male´s eyes immediately find Coriolanus due to his bloody red outfit.

The male doesn´t seem to be the only one, almost everyone that already emerged from their part of the train has their eyes on him.

He fidgets with the rose again, a shiver running down his spine and all the way to his feet and then his toes.

As some tributes are escorted to the transporter outside, Coriolanus finally spots the male tribute from District 12, he remembers his name, Jessup. With a sigh of relief, he takes a few steps to him, and finally, his eyes spot the girl he so desperately tried to find the entire time.

Jessup´s hands are securely wrapped around her waist as he picks her up and helps her out of the train so she can steady herself. She smiles up at Jessup whispers a small ´thanks´ and pats him on his upper arm before she starts to take in all her surroundings.

Although their conversation is muffled, "Are you sure your neck is fine? The bite looks painful..."

Coriolanus´ breathing stops for a second, just now he notices that no camera ever will be able to take in all her beauty, his lips part a little and he can feel his mouth running dry.

Now that Y/N dusted her clothes off and had taken a look around the train station, her eyes move to her right and are met with piercing blue orbs. Although she acknowledged him, he couldn´t help but keep staring at her, the white rose in his left hand long forgotten as it rested next to his body. Confusion dawned on her face as she looked over to Jessup who offered the same expression.

The two of them share a look with a shrug before she turns her back to Coriolanus and starts to take a few steps away from him.

The blonde seems to snap out of it and with a small shake of his head and with two steps he keeps up with her smaller ones.

"Uhm- Welcome to the Capitol." he offers her a smile and holds the rose up for her to see.

Her mouth set in a hard line while her cheeks glowed a tad bit redder than before, "You don´t look like you should be here…?" she asked unsure, her eyes still trained up at his face before they fell on the flower in his hand - which slightly started to tremble -

"Uhm, I shouldn´t, my name is Coriolanus Snow, and I´m your mentor," he adds, the smile still coating his lips as he offers her the rose again.

"Mentor?" she laughs out in disbelief after she finally takes the flower out of his trembling hand and looks at it. Jessup is standing behind her, and his face still shows the same confusion it did earlier.

"Yeah, it´s my job to help you survive the arena," Coriolanus replies, the moment she took the rose out of his grasp his hand went limp and fell back to his side.

"And how exactly-" Y/N doesn´t get the opportunity to reply to his words before someone roughly pulls on her arm and drags her forcefully to the exit of the train station.

Peacekeepers decided to cut their conversation short, they pulled her with them like she weighed nothing, "I can walk by myself perfectly fine." she said loudly before she slapped the hand that was wrapped around her biceps off.

"Wait! I´m her Mentor!" Coriolanus speaks up, yet the distance between mentor and tribute is growing with each second, and the blonde picks up his steps in order to keep up with them.

A few shouts and orders are ringing through the air, the atmosphere filled with dread and an uncomfortable tension. Outside awaits a transporter for the tributes, and like pigs they are thrown and shoved into it, ready to be taken to the slaughterhouse.

The district 12 girl's eyes are trailing behind her trying to catch a glimpse of the red that coats her so-called ´mentor´, she can´t seem to see him but his shouts still reach her ringing ears.

A small hand wraps around her right hand startling the 17-year-old girl, but she quickly relaxes when she sees the small girl from District 8, Wovey. She seems scared by the loud noises, and Y/N offers her a small smile and squeeze of the hand in order to calm her down. Y/N spots a small seat at the back right corner and leads her over to it, there´s not enough space for the both of them, so she lets Wovey take it and stands beside her.

Coriolanus´ opportunity seems to flash in front of him for a split second as a tribute tries to make a run for it, the Peacekeepers running close behind, and with three steps the blonde leaps into the back of the transporter.

He runs all the way to the back of it, before he takes a few breaths trying to tame the adrenaline that shoots through his veins, his breathing calming down from the small thrill he felt.

He straightens down his clothes, and immediately spots Y/N, hand-in-hand with the little girl, her eyes holding awe, yet mostly confusion at why he just ran after her. "What are you doing here?" she whisper-yells, in order not to attract the Peacekeeper's attention.

He can´t help but draw his lower lip between his teeth, letting his actions sink in "Yeah who the hell are you?"

"Uhm-" he starts to speak up, as the other tributes´ eyes hold anger and confusion, most of them standing up and taking a few steps closer to him, cornering him a little. The red that radiates from his red clothes alerts the others.

"I suppose he´s my mentor." Y/N quickly speaks up, her voice cutting through the tension that started to build itself.

"What the hell is a mentor? And why did you get one but we didn´t?"

"Did she get one just because she was the first to volunteer?"

Y/N opens her mouth again to reply but Coriolanus beats her to it, "No, you all get a mentor, I promise the same chances are laid out for everyone." he says with a slightly raised voice so everyone hears his words.

A few unamused chuckles emerge from the ´crowd´ that formed around him, nevertheless a tall guy grabs him by the collar and slams Coriolanus back against the wall behind him pulling a gasp from his lips.

"Don´t shit talk us, what are you doing here?! Are you here to spy on us? What sick games did you plan?!" he yells in his face, although Coriolanus is taller than him, he raises his hands in surrender in order to calm the angry tribute.

Y/N sighs and softly drops Wolvey´s hand onto the girl's lap, she takes a step forward rests her hand on the tribute´s shoulder gently yet harshly, and pushes against him.

"You get your own mentor, now drop it," she says loudly, the tributes around them purse their lips and keep looking at Coriolanus like he´s some meal they can devour.

"A Capitol´s sweetheart could be helpful, why not kill him to send a fucking message." everyone around them agrees except for Y/N and a few in the back, them equally as terrified as Coriolanus.

Coriolanus laughs at their ´plan´ and breathes out a few pained breathes due to him being pressed against the wall, however, before anyone else gets the chance to speak up, the container they are kept in starts to shake a little and then does a jump that causes everyone to lose their balance. The tribute that held the blonde up against the wall let go of him, the everyone including Coriolanus hold onto the nearest thing they could find to steady themselves.

Y/N yelps at the sudden movement that throws her forward and grabs onto Coriolanus´ right arm, the boy in question sneaks his right arm around her waist to steady her and takes hold of a handle that sticks out of the metal wall.

With a rumble and another much harsher shake of the container, the doors suddenly swing open and the place they were kept in for the past 10 minutes moves upwards, changing the position from vertical to horizontal.

A few screams erupt from the group of tributes, and everyone starts to slide out like bags of flour. Y/N yelps again and tries to hold onto Coriolanus, he manages to hold both of their weights, but Y/N´s grip on him loosens when she wiggles in his grasp.

"Wait- Y/N hold on!" he hisses out, but Y/N moves in his grasp trying to get a hold of Wovey´s hand who´s close to sliding down as well.

"Grab my hand!" she yells, but Wovey slips away, and Y/N watches the little girl and Jessup move out of her view into the unknown.

Y/N removes herself from his grasp, just as Coriolanus can´t hold them up anymore due to the shaking wagon, and they all slide into whatever the Capitol planned for them.

I might consider writing a second part! I hope you enjoyed reading this <33

#coriolanus snow #coriolanus snow x reader #the hunger games #the ballad of songbirds and snakes #tom blyth #tom blyth x reader #x reader #part 2?#fanfic #hunger games x reader #finnick odair x reader #peeta mellark x reader

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lanadelnegan · 7 months

Text

Cherry 🍒

S7 Negan x Virgin Female Reader

Summary: You sneak into Negan’s bed in the middle of the night and seduce him into ‘popping your cherry.’

Warnings: 18+, smut, age-gap (reader is 18, Negan is mid 40's), unprotected sex, Negan taking your virginity & being sweet with you, mentions of family death, bleeding during sex, oral (both receiving), sitting on Negan’s face, breeding

Note: this is pure filth. If you’re uncomfortable with extreme age-gaps, please don’t read.

You shivered as your bare feet quietly shuffled down the cold hallway, stopping right outside the leader's bedroom door. The sounds of Negan's light snoring filtered through the cracks as you softly pushed the door open, pleased to find it unlocked. You tiptoed your way over to the empty side of his bed before sliding underneath his soft white sheets and inhaling the unique scent of him - leather and fresh linen.

You've always felt comfortable with him. Negan welcomed you to the sanctuary with open arms about a year ago when you were seventeen, after your father passed away. His men found you walking along the road one day and brought you back to Negan, who immediately took you under his wing and made you feel safe for the first time since your father died.

You're not like his wives. More like the daughter he never had and he's made that boundary crystal clear on more than one occasion. You've made several subtle advances towards Negan in the past.. All of which he has politely rejected by changing the subject or blatantly ignoring you.

Still, this doesn't stop you from quietly moaning his name when you touch yourself at night.

"Negan.." You whispered cautiously as you snuggled into the sheets. This wasn't the first time you crawled into his bed at night, feeding him lies about nightmares you never even had. However, this time.. you were determined to get what you wanted.

During your recent previous attempts, you'd remain on your side of the bed and Negan wouldn't even know you were there usually until the next morning - lecturing you when you woke up about how sneaking into his bed is inappropriate. You hated when he used that word. Like a strict school teacher.

A few moments of silence passed until you boldly shuffled closer to him, wrapping your hand around his arm and snuggling your face into his bicep. You breathed in the intoxicating aroma of his soft skin as your legs delicately pressed into his underneath the blanket.

"The hell are you doin' y/n?" He asked, his sleepy voice deeper and raspier than usual and it made your heart flutter.

"Can't sleep."

"I think we both know you're lyin', doll. You know you can't stay in here. We've had this discussion. It's ina-"

"Yeah yeah I know. Inappropriate, geez." You interrupted him, rolling your eyes in the dark.

"Exactly, so why are you in my bed?"

"My.. dreams. They keep waking me up."

"Nightmares again?" He asked, using a softer tone this time.

"No.. no nightmares this time. Just.. dreams."

Negan shifted uncomfortably next to you, scooting up a little in the bed and wrapping his arm around you in the process. "What kinda dreams, doll?"

You snuggled into the nook of his armpit, getting practically drunk off his manly smell as your hand carelessly glided over his shirtless, hairy torso until settling on his lower abdomen.

Without missing a beat, Negan placed his hand over yours, moving it higher on his torso. "Y/n.." He said like a warning, sternness dripping from his tone.

You ignored him, refocusing your attention back to his previous question. "I dunno.. they're just.. like.. sexual dreams, and then I wake up and I'm all frustrated because I don't know what I'm doing-"

"Stop." He sighed with frustration, running a hand down his face. "Fucking christ, y/n. You cannot say shit like that in front of me."

"Why not? It's not like you're my daddy or anything." You teased him, sliding your hand to his lower stomach once again. You almost whimpered when your fingertips brushed over the soft curls peaking out of the waistband of his boxers and your stomach fluttered when he didn't stop you this time.

He let out a long sigh, glancing down to your hand that teased the sensitive skin under his waistband. "Baby...fuck. We can't." He said almost painfully.

"Okay.. I get it." You said defeatedly, removing your hand and shifting to turn over before he stopped you, pulling you back in.

He sighed, like he was about to regret asking you this. "What happens.. in your dreams?"

With the moonlight beaming through the window, you managed to catch a glimpse of the lust that flickered in his gaze before his hazel eyes dropped to your lips.

"You treat me different.. like.. one of your wives."

"Yeah? And how's that, baby?" He asked curiously as his lips hovered next to yours.

"You.. kiss them." You stated hesitantly, hoping it was dark enough in the room that he couldn't see your cheeks burning red.

"Oh? Are you jealous, doll?"

"...a little." You admitted, making him chuckle.

He tilted your chin up, lightly gripping your jawline as his eyes dropped to your lips. He stared at them as if he was contemplating if he should give you what you want.

"One kiss, y/n." He said, closing the gap between you and pressing his soft lips to yours. You whimpered into his mouth, earning a slight smirk from him as he pushed his talented tongue past your lips. You couldn't believe you were finally tasting him and you savored every second of it.

He kissed you until your lips were sore, tangling his fingers through your hair and groaning every now and then, making your panties soaked.

You slid your leg over his until his muscular thigh was pressed right up against your aching center and you couldn't help but grind against it, desperate for some friction.

"Y/n." He warned, knowing what you were doing beneath the covers.

"Please, Negan."

His solid erection pressed into your stomach each time you moved your body against his and you imagined the way it would feel inside of you.

“Please what?” He said in between kisses, allowing you to use his thigh to get yourself off.

“Please let me come."

"I'm not touching you, y/n. But I can't stop you from coming."

And that was all the permission you needed to grind against him harder and bring yourself to an orgasm just from humping his thigh.

You buried your face against his neck and rode out your high, whining and whimpering as you soaked through your panties. "Oh my god, oh my god, Negannnn."

"Satisfied now, doll?" He chuckled.

"No.. I need this." You said, pressing your palm against the hard bulge in his boxers. "Please."

"You don't know what you're asking for, sweetheart."

"I do, Negan. I know exactly what I want.. And I've wanted you for so long." You kissed his neck as you rubbed his cock through the material. "I see the way you look at me. I know you want me too."

He sighed, accepting that you were right. "Maybe. But we can't always get what we want, doll."

You grinned, taking that as a challenge as you slid lower beneath the blanket, kissing his chest. "Why not?"

"Baby.."

"If you tell me to stop, I'll stop." You said, wanting to earn his consent before climbing over his legs and settling in between them. He sighed again, turning all the way over on his back to allow you better access.

You licked a line from the bottom of the trail of hair that led up to his belly button, earning a moan from him as he slightly lifted his hips in response. "Baby, you don't have to-"

"You said you wouldn't touch me, but you didn't say I couldn't touch you." You explained, pulling his boxers down slowly. You watched closely as his cock sprung free, and your mouth practically watered at the sight of it. You wondered how you'd fit it in your mouth, much less your pussy.

"It's so.. big.." You said, wrapping your hand around it. Your mouth fell slightly open at the velvety feeling of it as you stroked it up and down in your palm.

Negan was propped up on his elbows as he watched you through heavy, lust-filled eyelids. For once, he was speechless, waiting for your next move.

You lowered your head, taking the tip of him into your mouth and wrapping your lips around it softly. You sucked on just the tip as you looked up at him through your brows and watched his head fall back while the prominent vein in his neck bulged against his skin. Lowering yourself deeper, he let out a long groan when he felt himself in the back of your throat.

"Fuuuuuck, baby. Feels so fuckin' good."

You bobbed your head up and down on him until your jaw ached, wanting to make him proud. Finally, he pulled your head off of his length, and you watched as the precum leaked from his red, swollen tip. His breaths were heavy as he looked down at you. "Fuck, that's enough. You're gonna make me come, sweetheart.

"I want to taste you, Negan.. please?" You begged, looking up at him innocently.

"Yeah? You want me to come in your mouth?"

You nodded as wrapped your lips around his thick length again, tasting the bead of salty precum. You moaned at the new taste, sucking firmly over and over until you felt more of his warm liquid spurt out, coating the back of your throat. You moaned around him again, not taking your mouth off of his cock until you swallowed every drop.

Sweat ran down the side of his face and his chest rose and fell heavily as he watched you. "Goddamn. What happened to my sweet, innocent girl, huh? When did you learn to suck cock like that?"

"Just now. That was my first time." You shrugged, shuffling up his body until your legs straddled his waist and you pulled your shirt over your head, tossing it on the floor and exposing your perky, bare breasts to him.

You pinched your own nipples teasingly as you bit you lip and stared down at him.

"Fuck, you are so beautiful.” He said, watching you play with your nipples.

"You don't wanna touch?" You pouted, sticking out your bottom lip.

"Of course I wanna fuckin' touch you, y/n. You have no idea. I wanna touch every inch of you." He sighed, leaning up on his elbows again until his face was inches away from your chest. "But, I can't."

"Then don't use your hands.. lick me instead." You insisted.

He looked up at you through his brows before his gaze returned to your breasts. You leaned forward, brushing your nipple against his beard until it hardened even more. When it brushed his lips, he instantly took it into his mouth and groaned, sucking it gently. After a few moments, he switched to the other one, flicking his tongue against it. Your head fell back while your fingers intertwined in his slick, black hair.

"Negannn." You breathed out, and he finally pulled away.

"Take those panties off and sit on my fucking face. Now." He demanded, laying flat on his back.

You eagerly obeyed him, quickly removing your panties and climbing over his face before lowering yourself down slowly. You hovered over him lightly, not wanting to press all the way down until his hands roughly pulled you closer.

"I said, sit." He said before burying his face in your cunt. The tip of his nose pressed against your clit as his tongue devoured your dripping hole and he moaned with approval.

You lifted slightly, being too sensitive too his touch, but he leaned forward, taking your clit between his lips and sucking. You cried out as your orgasm instantly rushed through you and you soaked his face. You came hard and fast, but he didn't mind as he moaned loudly, lapping up your juices. You tried to climb off of him, but he held you in place, still licking you like his life depended on it.

"Negan.." You blushed.

"Hm?"

"That's enough." You giggled.

"I'll never get enough of this sweet pussy, doll. You wanted me, now you've fuckin' got me."

His words made the butterflies somersault in your chest. You hoped he meant it. You hoped he loved you the way you loved him.

"Lay down for me." He said, finally letting you climb off of him.

You did as he said, getting comfortable on your back as he crawled over you and settled between your legs. Looking down, you noticed he was rock hard again and he rubbed the tip of his cock teasingly in between your wet folds.

"Negan.. I need to tell you something."

"Hm? What is it, doll?" He asked, leaning over you and holding himself up with his palms on either side of your head on the mattress.

"I-I've never done this before."

He smirked, looking into your eyes. "I know."

"What do you mean you know?"

"I hear everything in this place, y/n. I've heard you talking about me to your friends." He pressed his lips to yours before looking at you again. "I've heard you moaning my name at night in your bed while you touch that pretty pussy. I know everything about you, doll. I pay attention, even when you think I'm not."

You blushed at his words as you stared up at him speechless, making his smile widen. "So adorable when you're embarrassed."

He kissed you again, so hard that it took your breath away and in that moment, you knew you were head over heels in love with this man. You just wondered if he felt the same.

“What else happens in your dreams, baby? Do you let me fuck this little pussy?” He whispered in your ear, causing a chill to run down your spine.

“Y-yes.” You managed to choke out, making him chuckle.

He leaned back up, placing one of your legs over his shoulder as the other fell open for him.

“You ready for me to break you in, sweetheart? Pop that sweet little cherry?”

"Fuck, yes. Please." You whined, scooting closer to him until the tip of his cock brushed against your sex.

Negan chuckled lowly, pressing the head of his cock right against your hole. He watched you intensely as he pushed just the tip in, stopping before he went any further.

“You good, baby?” He asked, making sure you were good to continue. Once you nodded, he slid slightly deeper, feeling resistance before pushing through with a force.

You cried out at the sudden ripping sensation, making him stop again.

“No.. keep going.” You urged him, already aching from how he was stretching you, but you needed him to fill you completely. So he did, pushing himself all the way in with one swift thrust.

Your mouth fell open silently as he pressed against your cervix and let out a growl.

He fell over you again, kissing your lips as he thrusted into you at a steady pace. “You did it, baby.” He praised you softly. “I am so fuckin proud of you.”

He moved slowly, making you deliberately feel every inch of him. He repeated this motion until your face was on fire and your lower abdomen tingled.

"Fuck, y/n. You are so fucking tight." He said through gritted teeth, looking down between the two of you as he leaned back up on his knees.

"Oh fuuck, look. at. that, doll."

You leaned up on your elbows, looking down and widening your eyes when Negan pulled out of you, revealing his blood covered cock.

His thumb reached down to swipe a trail of your blood off his dick before bringing it to this mouth. You watched him enamored as his eyes rolled to the back of his head at the taste of you and he moaned with satisfaction. You blushed hard at the sight of Negan tasting your blood.

“Who do you belong to?”

“Negan.” You answered without question, following it with a moan as he pushed back into you without warning.

“That’s right, doll. This pussy? Is mine now. Understood?”

“Y-yes sir.” You cried, as he pumped into you faster.

"Ow. Ow, fuck. It hurts."

“I know baby. I know. You want me to stop?”

“No.” You said quickly. “Please don’t stop. I want it harder.”

He smiled down at you proudly as his hips bucked into you harder and your eyes clenched shut as your fingers gripped the sheets.

Looking down between the two of you again, he groaned at the sight of your blood completely coating his cock and leaking out of you with each thrust.

You whined and whimpered, desperately wanting to come again. He grinned knowingly, pressing his thumb to your clit and making your body shutter. "You gonna come on my cock, sweetheart?"

You nodded as tears flooded your eyes and his finger started working over your clit more intensely.

"Yes, yes. Please make me come."

He fucked you fast and rubbed your clit in perfect circles, watching you come undone around him. Once your walls were done convulsing around him, he fell over you again, kissing your neck and groaning in your ear. "That's it. That's my good girl."

Wet noises filled the air as he fucked you unforgivably hard. "You gonna let me cum in this pussy, baby?" He asked, biting your earlobe.

You couldn't speak, so you nodded as your vision went cloudy and his thrusts became more erratic until he stopped suddenly, pushing himself balls deep inside of you as his dick pumped you full of cum and he growled in your ear.

"Fuck, fuck, fuuuck, baby." His thrusts started again, soft and light this time as he pushed his seed deeper inside of you. He kissed your jawline, then your lips, before pulling back slightly to look into your eyes.

"Y/n... I love you. I love you so much, sweetheart. And goddamn I love this pussy."

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allurilove · 21 days

Text

Yandere Professor x you

Rated 18 + — mature short content !

Includes: sweet talking, breath play, age gap, fucking in his classroom, pretty gender neutral, manipulation, abuse of power, obsessed professor.

*Everyone is of age, and older than eighteen. He is referred to as “your professor” his only existence is to be obsessed with the reader, and without you, he ceases to exist. This is purely fictional writing!*

Synopsis: He’s your strict professor, and you’re trying to get a better grade. You’ve never seen him be swayed by a student before, perhaps you would be the first.

Your grade has tanked by a lot. You had an unreasonable professor, the man was picky, and on your last test it was covered in corrections by that damn red pen of his.

You began to wonder what it would take for him to give you an A.

You wouldn’t consider yourself to be a bad student. In fact, this is the first time you have been close to failing. It was honestly your fault, you’ve read the reviews on this teacher and still chose to take the class anyways. You just wanted to challenge yourself.

You gawk at the paper he hands back to you. Your eye twitched at the big fat zero out of a hundred, and that might’ve been impressive just in itself. Not even one question right. You narrow your eyes at the professor who was still handing out the quiz back to the students.

When class ended, you slowly packed up your things, and you kept tabs on how many students were still left in the classroom. When the last student left, you got up from your seat, and stormed your way over to the professor.

Any sliver of dignity you had was gone. Your cheeks still flushed when he announced the lowest score to the whole class. You pushed that memory aside, and you crossed your arms as you stood in front of his desk.

“I don’t have time for this.” Your professor sighed, and his brows furrowed as he loosened up his tie.

He knew why you were coming over to talk to him. This was the worst grade you have gotten in his class. And really, he’s not surprised. In his opinion you have been slacking off. Your body bristles at his words, his eyes are cold and unforgiving.

Maybe if you weren’t a rash individual, you would’ve seen that his comments on your test was totally fake. Every circle and outline with a tiny scribble on the side? That was his way of professing his love for you, and about fifty “I love you’s.” were on the paper, but he knew you wouldn’t read them.

He did know that the grade would haunt you. He did know that it would make you desperate enough to come to him during office hours.

Your professor watched you with amusement as you crawled onto his lap, and you guiding his hands onto your body. He could already feel his dick stirring in his pants.

“This is hardly appropriate.” He said in a disapproving tone, though his hands do cup at your chest.

His thumb circles around your nipple, and the rest of his fingers gently squeeze at opportunity you have given to him. His other arm wrapped around your waist, holding you firmly in his lap.

It felt like you were trying to chip away at his resolve, his face was stern, and he listens to you rant on about the grade he gave you. Though, him letting you sit on his lap, let you subtly grind on his growing erection. With every whine and pout, you tried to play with his heart strings.

Your professor sighed, shook his head, and tried to pretend that there was no way you could make up for it. His hand slowly, and quietly, opening his drawer to grab for a condom.

It didn’t take long for him to agree when you took off his glasses, your lips capturing his in a searing kiss. He followed your lead, letting you feel like you were in control.

His hands groping at your ass and he puts you onto his desk, his body moving his way in between your legs. You wore something easy to slip off, your shorts and underwear now down to your ankles. He caressed your inner thighs, his lips now trailing down to your neck.

Your professor licked and sucked at your skin, his teeth gently nibbling at you, and he made sure to leave marks.

“You can be quite cute like this…” The older man mumbles, “…so pretty, so perfect.” he took a deep inhale as his nose was buried into your neck.

“Oh shit.” Your professor growled, his belt falling to the floor and his pants were pulled down roughly.

Before you knew it, he ripped open the condom wrapper and he slid it on his cock. He spit on his hand for lube, and gave his member a few pumps. He aligned his tip against your warmth.

His hands wrapped around your throat, squeezing the side of it, as his hips began to rock itself. His dick hit the deepest part of you, he went slow, and he was determined to find your sweet spot.

“Don’t be upset…” He cooed, and he kissed you in between his words. “I had to give you a zero.”

“You weren’t understanding my hints.”

He needed you. He wanted to be with you the moment you stepped inside his room, or maybe it was when he found out you signed up for his class. Your name was interesting to him, your looks, and the way you carried yourself got him hooked.

He took a couple points off on your first test, just to see what you would do. You certainly didn’t deserve it, and he thought you would’ve challenged him on it, or come talk to him. Or even offer your body to him sooner.

He did it over and over again, until you were on the verge of receiving an F. He was getting frustrated, and you were a damn tease.

He was never like this before, and if you exposed him, he could lose his job. But maybe then he could be with you in public? He let out a deep groan, his eyes rolling back as he was fucking you for his release.

Your professor didn’t realize that your face was turning pink, your nails scratching at his hands that were on your throat, and you were on the verge of cumming. You gasp as he finally let you breathe, his hands now on the desk behind you.

The room was filled with his vocalizations, his whimpers, his mumbles of how good you feel, and how much he needed this.

He even called you his baby, his good student, love, and when you finally came— his eyes were glued to the white substance dripping out of you.

That was when he knew you were going to be his. He was going to be the only one that could make you feel this way.

That day, you received the A you have been wanting. But you also indulged the man that’s been pining after you, and he never stopped.

Allure: Idk why, but i’ve been really active lately omg.

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vivwritesfics · 1 month

Text

"I Don't Know Anything About Dinosaurs"

Spencer was meant to be at the museum on a blind date, not walking around with a mother and son, listening to him as he spouted off dinosaur facts. But then the kid goes missing and it's Spencer's mission to save him.

Spencer x Single mother! Reader

Spencer Reid hated the thought of a blind date. He didn't know if said blind date being set up by Garcia made things better or worse. At least Garcia was a fellow need. She liked some of the things Spencer was into and hopefully knew people who were also into those things.

Their meeting place being a museum had to be a good sign, he thought as he stared up at the recreation of the Parasaurolophus skeleton. But, so far, there had been no sign of her. He looked around with the knowledge that she'd be wearing a green scarf and carrying a museum tote bag, but she was nowhere to be seen.

Suddenly, somebody was tugging at his sleeve. Spencer looked down to see a boy with wild, dark curls staring up at him. "Excuse me, Mister," the boy said as he looked up at Spencer. "You're blocking the sign." Spencer looked to his left and saw that he really was blocking the sign.

Not that this little boy would be able to read it from his height. "I'm sorry," Spencer said gently as he stepped to one side.

He couldn't help but watch as this little boy walked over to the sign full of dinosaur facts. Just as Spencer had thought, he'd been too short to read it, but he stood on his tiptoes and really tried.

When the boy gave up, he turned to Spencer. "Hey Mister," he said and put his hands on his hips. "Wanna help a fella out?"

Spencer couldn't help but wonder where this kid had learnt this phrase. He looked around before he crouched down, matching the kids height. "Is your mom anywhere around here?" Spencer asked. The kid shrugged her shoulders and, suddenly, Spencer was trying not to panic. "Do you want help finding her?"

Again, the boy shrugged. "She knows where to find me," he said and turned his attention back to the dinosaur.

Spencer stayed by the kid. He looked around, searching for any sign of his mother. But nobody around him seemed like they were panicked or looking for him.

Suddenly, shouts filled the room. "Jimmy!" Somebody shouted. Spencer looked around until he saw a young woman running towards him and the kid. "Jimmy!" When she got close enough, she grabbed the boy and pulled him into her embrace.

But then she stood up straight and looked at him, her expression stern. "James L/N, you know better than to run off like that!"

Jimmy pouted as he looked at his mother. "I'm sorry, momma," he said. "I just wanted to see the dinosaurs."

Her face dropped and she ruffled his dark curls. "It's okay, baby. We can look at them together," she said softly.

Jimmy took his mothers hand, but he turned towards Spencer. Spencer, who knew everything, but didn't know why he was still standing there, watching them. "This fella was gonna help me read the sign," he said.

His mother suddenly turned to Spencer. She tightened her grip on her sons hand and placed her other on her hip as she stared at him.

Spencer jumped into action. "He, uh, he said his mother knew where to find him. I didn't want to leave him here until someone came to claim him," he explained.

She dropped the hand from her hip. "Well, thank you," she said and lifted her son up. She placed him on her hip so that he could read the sign and turned her attention to Spencer. "Do you like Hadrosaurs?" She asked as she nodded her head to the not entirely real skeleton. (Well, maybe a few bones were real, but not the whole thing.)

Spencer shook his head. "No. I'm more of a science museum guy," he answered. He didn't add that he rarely got time to visit a museum with his job.

"Well, if you wanna know anything about any of the dinosaurs, I'm sure Jimmy would be happy to answer you," she said in reply. Her smile was polite, sweet, one Spencer found he really liked looking at.

Spencer took one last look around the museum, one last look for the blind date that Garcia had set up for him. He'd mentally prepared himself for a date, mentally prepared himself to be confident and out going. He wasn't about to let that go to waste.

"I don't know anything about dinosaurs." A lie. "Do you mind if I joined you?"

That was how Spencer spent his day. If his date eventually showed up to the museum, he didn't much care. He was much happier listening to Jimmy talk about dinosaurs. For the first time in his life, Spencer bit his tongue. Jimmy rarely got any of his facts wrong, and Spencer didn't add to his knowledge base, not when he'd said he didn't know anything about dinosaurs.

Once they got back to the museum entrance, Jimmy dragged his mother to the gift shop, and Spencer was only happy to follow. When Jimmy found two soft toys that he wanted (an Ankylosaurus and a Pachycephalosaurus), Spencer helped him to decide which one he wanted.

Jimmy told Spencer everything he knew about the Ankylosaurus as they walked out of the museum. But, once they were on the steps, his mother squeezed his hand. "We've gotta go, Jim," she said softly to him.

Jimmy pouted, but then he turned to Spencer. "It was nice to meet you, Spencer," he said. "You're a nice fella."

Spencer couldn't help but grin. "Thanks for teaching me all about Dinosaurs, Jimmy," he said as he crouched down to his height. "Take good care of, Anky."

He stood up straight and looked at Jimmy's mother. "He's right," she said. "It really was nice to meet you. Thanks for being so nice to him. I don't know many other people who would walk around and let a six year old talk at them for hours."

Spencer shoved his hands into his pockets and rocked on the balls of his feet. "No, I learnt a lot," he replied. Neither of them had spoken about Jimmy having a father, or his mother having a partner. There had been no ring on her finger, and the profiler could pick up no indications that she had a partner.

So, Spencer took a leap of faith. "Maybe we could do this again sometime."

Her grin only grew. "I'm sure Jimmy will find some more facts for you," she said, her hand on his sons head. But then she went fishing through her bag and pulled out her phone. "Give me your number," she said and handed him her phone.

Spencer put his number into the phone and passed it back. She typed out a text and quickly sent it to him. "Until next time, Doctor Reid," she said and walked Jimmy down the museum steps, leading him to her car.

Spencer couldn't help but watch them go.

***

The case must have been local. JJ had told them not to back an overnight bag and they all rushed to the BAU as quickly as they could.

It had only been a few days since Spencer had met Jimmy and his mother. They'd texted here and there, but they were both pretty busy with their jobs. Still, he couldn't help but think of them as the elevator took him up. After this case was done, he'd make arrangements to see them again. To find out what new dinosaur facts Jimmy had for him.

He and the rest of the team sat around the round table. Within seconds JJ was walking into the room and turning on the monitor. "James L/N has been reported missing by his mother," she said as the rest of the team passed around folders.

Spencer felt his heart stop. James. Jimmy. Reported missing by his mother. Jimmy, the sweet boy who knew so much about dinosaurs, had been reported missing. He suddenly couldn't breathe.

"His mother said she put him to bed and went to clean up the kitchen. When she checked on him before taking herself to bed, he was gone," JJ continued.

"Jimmy." Spencer couldn't stop himself from saying it.

All eyes were suddenly on him. JJ took a step towards him. "What is it, Spence?" She asked softly. She always was soft with him, almost treating him like he was a child. It wasn't what he needed right now, but he was grateful.

"I-I know this boy," he said as he flipped through the folder that was passed to him. "He, uh, his mom calls him Jimmy, not James."

"You know his mother?" Hotch asked him.

Spencer nodded. "They were at the museum last weekend. I walked around the exhibits with them," he said.

Hotch sent them on their way. He, Rossi, Prentiss, and Garcia began looking through all the information they could find on James L/N and his mother, while JJ, Reid and Morgan went to James's house.

Before this, Spencer had been wondering if he could count their time at the museum as a date. It hadn't been, really. But he wanted to take her on one, or at least get to know her better.

He couldn't believe his first time inside of her house was going to be because of a case. Spencer couldn't help but feel a little sick as he, JJ and Morgan walked up the steps to the house. There was an array of flowers in the garden. Some in pots lining the steps, some on the windows, some hanging beside the door.

Spencer raised his fist. The stained glass window panes painted a scene. Water, a clock tower, a bird flying above the ocean. Spencer sucked in a breath and knocked between the window panes.

The door was open within seconds. Jimmy's mother stared at the three ages. Morgan said her name. "We're with the-"

But, before he could finish he sentence, she threw herself at Spencer, wrapping her arms around him. Spencer stood there for a moment, unable to move. But then he hesitantly wrapped his arms around her. "He's gone," she cried against Spencer's chest.

"I know," Spencer whispered, his large hand against her back. "But we're gonna find him."

JJ and Morgan hung back as they watched the interaction. It felt intimate, something they couldn't interrupt. But she let go of Spencer and stepped to the side, letting all three agents into her house.

She wrapped her arms around herself as she shut the door behind them. "I... I didn't touch anything in his room," she said as she led them upstairs. At the very first room she pushed open the door.

Morgan and JJ pulled on gloves as they stepped into the room. But it was perfectly clean. The bed was made, the room had been cleaned up, but there was no sign of a break in. "Reid, take her downstairs," Morgan said as he and JJ began combing through the room.

Spencer did just that. He took her downstairs and sat her on the sofa, sitting himself beside her. She drew in a shaky breath. "He has Anky," she said quietly and wiped at her eyes. "If I had known you were FBI I would have called you before I called the police."

He swallowed. "I'm here now," he said, meeting her teary gaze. "And I need you to tell me everything that happened, starting with when you put Jimmy to bed."

She ran Spencer through her entire evening. Starting with dinner, and then bath time, story time and bed. She told him how she cleaned the kitchen after dinner and took some time, only ten minutes to read. By the time she went up to check on him, by the time she was ready to go to sleep herself, Jimmy was gone.

When she started crying Spencer rubbed her back. There was little else he could do to offer contact as he asked as she had noticed anything or anybody strange recently. He'd already worked out that the unsub must have known her usual schedule to be able to take Jimmy and then clean his room.

Before Spencer could piece together any information from her answers, the phone began ringing. She drew in a sharp gasp as she turned her head towards it.

When she looked at Spencer again, he nodded and she picked up the phone. "H-hello?" She said, voice shaking as she put the phone on speaker.

"Hi mommy!"

Immediately, tears sprang to her eyes. "Jimmy?" She cried. "Is that you, baby?"

"Yeah, mommy," he said. He sounded fine and she had to take comfort in that.

Her hand fell onto Spencer's and she squeezed. Squeezed him to the point of pain. But Spencer didn't say anything. He squeezed her back, trying to be encouraging. "Jimmy, baby, can you tell me where you are? I-It's almost time for lunch and I need to come get you."

"I'm with a friend, mommy," Jimmy answered. "Her name is mommy, too. She said she's gonna make me lunch."

Suddenly, Spencer's brows furrowed. She. The unsub was a woman.

"Mommy, she wants to speak to you," Jimmy said. Spencer watched as her eyes went wide and she began rapidly shaking her head.

But Spencer squeezed her hand and nodded his head. She swallowed the lump in her throat. "Okay, Jimmy, But, can you tell me where you are first, baby?"

Jimmy didn't answer her.

There was an indistinguishable noise from the other end and then, "Leave my son and I alone!"

It was a woman's voice, an obviously upset woman's voice. As the rest of the team came down the stairs Spencer pressed his fingers to his lips.

"Please," she said desperately as she looked at Spencer. "Please, just bring Jimmy home. He's all I got."

"His name isn't Jimmy!" The other woman suddenly cried. "He's my son and his name is Robert!" She ended the call after that, cutting off the contact.

Her hands shook as she put the phone down.

"His name is Robert," Spencer repeated. He said it to himself a few times as the rest of the team crowded around her to ask her more questions. Desperately, she looked at Spencer, but he pulled his phone from his pocket and pressed it to his ear.

***

Spencer didn't sleep much on this case. He couldn't, not until he knew that Jimmy was safe at home with his mother.

He had Garcia look into mothers who had lost their children. More specifically, mothers that had lost children called Robert.

The whole team tried several different angles for the case. While Morgan and JJ interviewed mothers that had lost children, Spencer and Garcia desperately searched through records of institutions.

Their lucky break was when the unsub called once again. Spencer had been there, thank god. All she had to do was call and he was running.

Garcia had set things up to trace the call. When the phone began ringing, she held her hand against her chest. "It's okay," Spencer assured her.

He picked up the phone and placed it in her hands. "Hi Mommy!"

"Jimmy!" She sat up straighter. "Jimmy, baby, are you okay?" She asked desperately.

There was a beat of silence, one that had her heartbeat erratic. "I'm okay, Mommy. I've lost Anky, though."

She swallowed. "Well, when you're home, we can go to the museum again and get you another."

"Can Spencer come with us?"

Spencer nodded at her. Of course they could go back to the museum. The moment they got Jimmy home, Spencer would take the both of them.

"Yeah, Jimmy. We can take Spencer."

Suddenly the call was ended. "Jimmy?!" She cried, desperately. But he was gone.

"Garcia, have you got it?" Spencer called down his phone as he stood.

Garcia listed off the address. Immediately Spencer was using his long legs to stride to her front door. "Wait!" She cried, rushing after him. Spencer turned, his eyes soft as he looked at her. "Bring him home."

Hotch didn't want Spencer going with them. He was too close to the case, and they all knew it wouldn't end well. But Jimmy knew him, and he was more likely to actually go with Spencer.

The team entered the house, guns drawn. With noises from the living room and the upstairs, the team split up.

Spencer and JJ headed into the living room. Cartoons played on the television, and Spencer had to hope it was Jimmy.

And Jimmy it was. "Hi Spencer!" He called the moment the FBI agent came into view.

Immediately Spencer felt his heart stop. He put his gun away and crouched down in front of Jimmy. "Hey, Buddy," he said as Jimmy hugged him. "We're gonna get you home to your mom, okay?"

"Okay," Jimmy said as Spencer picked him up.

The rest of the team arrested the unsub, a woman who had lost her child years ago. She fought to get to Jimmy when she was walked towards the police car, cuffs around her wrists.

***

Spencer held Jimmy's hand in the police station. Jimmy told Spencer more dinosaur facts. "I wanna go back to the museum," he said. "And I want you to come."

"Your mom is gonna be happy to take you," Jimmy," he said and handed him a pen. Jimmy began drawing as he waited for his mom to show up.

When she did, she ran through the police station. She ran straight over to her son and pressed kisses all over his face. She pulled away to look at him, to check him over. "Oh baby," she said and hugged him tight. "I missed you."

"Missed you too, Momma," he said and showed her his dinosaur drawings. "Can we go to the museum with Spencer, momma?"

With Spencer standing behind Jimmy, he wore a matching pout. "Can I?" He asked.

"Please Momma!"

How could she say no?

(It wasn't meant to be a first date, but the treated it as such)

#spencer reid #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid x you #matthew gray gubler imagine #matthew gray gubler #mgg #criminal minds #criminal minds imagine #criminal minds x reader #spencer reid smut

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sanjisblackasswife · 9 months

Text

Thinking about how OPLASanji is a more closeted pervert than an open one. (Part 1)

IHadTo.

Blk Fem Reader x OPLA Sanji

CW: Sanji has tattoos(🌚), Suggestive, Kissing, Touchy Touchy Sanji, ….please read his dialouge in his voice. No smut BUT next time will be filthy smut<_< just setting up the plot here okaayyy i havent wrote in a while.

“So fucking pretty..”

“You say ‘sum Sanji?”

“Nothing, madam.”

Sanji was relentless. Him so new to the crew you and him managed to get pretty close quite quickly. It’s been a few weeks now and Zoro has pointed out about 15 times already how touchy and —in his words “Freaky” he is towards you.

“Either you’re that dense or just as perverted as him because how can you not feel his dick against your ass when you both are—“

“Zoro.” Nami cut him off with a stern tone, you blink at them both on the deck. “Enough, okay.”

“Somebody had to say it,” Zoro took a sip of his drink, settling back down on the chair, “It’s been constant dry foreplay from you both and it’s annoying—“

“…Sorry.” You murmur, not really sure how to answer to him, he looks at you, scoffing. “I don’t think sanji is intentionally being like that he just—“

“Well he is. A blind man can see how he fucks you with his eyes.”

Slightly confused as to why Zoro would even think Sanji is a pervert. He isn’t. He can’t be??

He’s so sweet, and charming, you can’t deny he was one of the few men you met that have caught your attention; his dimples exposing themselves when you make him smile, his pretty delicate hands that grabs ahold of yours when he kisses your knuckles, his pretty jewlery, and when he speaks in your ear, that fucking accent of his—-

…maybe him being a pervert wasn’t too bad.

I mean, he wasn’t hurting you nor ever made you uncomfortable? You both are adults.

And adults have needs.

And if two adults have attraction for one another then…well…it shouldn’t matter much?

You shook off what Zoro said and headed back to the kitchen, maybe he was just teasing you again.

But if he wasn’t…you could possibly make use of this new information.

——-

“Y/n, my love, how are you babe? Thirsty?” Sanji smiles at you, already preppping for dinner you grin warmly back at him and take a seat at the table, his eyes follow your figure, trailing down to your waist, and glued to your ass until you sat down.

For a moment you were quiet, not responding yet to his question, but admiring Sanji’s hands, how quickly he can chop food, how pretty his fingers are, you nearly nip at your lip when you notice him roll up his sleeves and see—-

“Oh!” Your eyes widen mindlessly, you walk towards the large kitchen island and lean over, “You have tattoos?”

How could have you not notice? it’s been almost a month being together and you never peeped? He had a half sleeve done and honestly it looked so..

“You like?” Sanji’s chuckle makes you break out of your daze. “I got my first one when i was 16. And then well, it became a slight addiction.”

You stare back at his forearm again, the pretty art marked on his skin, noticing the veins complimenting it made you nip at your lip again. He smiles, your pretty round eyes watching him as he cooked, but again.

Sanji’s eyes wondered.

You were in a trance at his tattoos, trying to count and see every detail of them you didn’t even notice your breast spilling out of your low cutted tank top onto the counter.

Your pretty brown chest, literally shining from a mixture of a bit of sweat and lotion you put on earlier with your small gold necklace dangling in between your clevage, Sanji tries to tear his eyes away, but he can’t help it.

You’re so fucking gorgeous. He seen you and Nami and he was already infactuated with you both, but you seemed to be more open to entertaining his flirtatious advances than Nami so he started to fall for you a bit more.

Hugging him at Arlong Park really got him going, your breast pressed against his, the way you kissed his cheek, and you were just so happy to see him he almost felt his pants get tight from that alone.

He wanted you bad it was almost admirable and pathetic.

“I have more tattoos. Y’know if you ever wanna see ‘em.” He teased, knowing damn well he was serious.

“Hmmmm.” You walk around the counter to face his side, finger tracing the rim of the counter top. “Well maybe….where are the others?”

“I have one on side, one on my shoulder, on my back—“

“Your back?” Your eyes lit up. “Can I see?”

Sanji started to stammer, “I— um… Really? You sure?…..okay just…give me a moment.”

You giggle at his urgency to clean up his mess, putting the roast in the oven he walks towards the kitchen door and locks it, his mind running a mile a minute he turns to face you to see you happliy sitting on the counter smiling, “C’mon lemme see! I love back tattoos!”

Sanji exhales, unbuttoning his shirt he feels your gaze, once his shirt is fallen to the ground he turns, you nearly gasped seeing the huge tattoo on his spine.

His very pretty spine.

“woah.” Sanji hears your footsteps approach him, he hisses slightly at your touch, you did always have a habit of touching when not asked. “It’s so pretty.”

Your hands start to move around the outline of the art, also noticing the small scars and bruises he has gotten in past fights. You lightly touch one, and he immediately turns around, causing you to jump, “Oh. Sorry.”

“No, it’s alright. You like them?”

“Mmhm…” you land your hand on his shoulder tattoo, not even taking note to how closer sanji approached you.

You both stare at each other for a moment, it was only 2 seconds but it felt like an eternity until Sanji decided to close the gap between you both.

His lips were so soft against yours you couldn’t hold in any moan you had released, you felt his hand cup your cheek, moving you backwards onto the counter, the kisses started to get more intense the more access you allowed him into your mouth.

Nothing but the sounds of water crashing, usopp and Luffy outside playing and heavy breathing filled the kitchen. Sanji just couldnt help himself—-

His mind was fuzzy, he knew in the back of his mind he shouldn’t have been so bold with his actions but to feel your body weight against his,

a slap or two was worth it, but it never came.

Sliding his tongue inside your mouth he pushes his leg in between yours, you really don’t know why you haven’t stopped him yet, maybe it’s the way he so easily picked you up by your ass and sat you on the counter, or maybe it’s how his hands are squeezing your breast, but you knew eventually you had to—-

“Okay!” You pulled off, both of you trying to catch your breath, “Wait…I….Sanji…”

He stared at you like a lost dog, damn near ready to get scolded with his pink puffy lips, you giggled. Holding his cheek, “I’m..sorry.”

You knew he shouldn’t have been sorry, he only did what you allowed him, and luckily he was a great kisser so it wasn’t anything you technically regret doing.

“Sorry for what?…I liked it.” You took his hand and teased, “Unexpected, but…I like it.”

You brush his hair back, going in for a slower and deeper kiss, your felt his cold palms rub the sides your your bare thighs, pulling you closer so you can throw your arms over his shoulder.

You nor him haven’t had this kind of touch from another person in a long time, and you both were clearly attracted to each other …so…why not bite the bullet?

“Let’s go to my room, Sanji…”

#TimikosSanji #one piece #black reader #one piece headcanons #one piece x female reader #one piece smut #sanji #sanjionepiece #one piece x black!reader #sanji imagine #sanji x black reader #sanji one piece #vinsmoke sanji #opla sanji

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latenightdaydreams · 2 months

Note

Okay, imagine mechanic!Konig who fixes your car and is just you know- hot. And then as payment he wants a date. In the back of his car. Where he fucks your brains out and is just so sweet. Mutters the dirtiest things about always being able to fix your car if you give him a baby or something and is just- god I'm feral for this man. And your writing!

Anyway, sorry if it's a weird ask. I love your writing to death, it's fantastic! Make sure to eat yummy snacks and stay hydrated!

AHHHH THANK YOU SO MUCH!!! That means so much to me and I'm so happy to have such great supporters like you! I absolutely LOVE this idea! I hope you enjoy! Thank you so so much for your support!! 💗

Mechanic!König x reader (fem)

MDNI🔞

Part 2

>cw: fem/afab, sex for payment, p in v, breeding kink, dirty talk

Word count: 1.4k

For more click here✍🏽🔞

You turn your car off and step out, accidently slamming the car door behind you. The ground underneath your feet is uneven as you make your way towards the open garage door. The place looks old and the location seems right out of a horror movie, but you push those thoughts aside.

Looking inside the garage you see a man bent over under the hood of a red pick-up truck. His dirty white shirt and oil-stained jeans are all you can see of him.

“Excuse me? Sir? Hi, I’m y/n, I was wondering if you could look at my car?” Your voice is small and polite, like your customer service voice.

König stops working on the truck and stands, looking over at you. His eyes roam your body, taking in your shape before his icy blue eyes finally meet yours. He looks around as if to check if you were here with anyone or if you came alone.

“What’s wrong with it?” He asks stoically not giving away how attracted to you he is just yet.

“I have trouble starting it and when it does turn on it makes this terrible screeching noise,” Your eyes scan his body, his muscles glistening from a light sheen of sweat across his body. His face is stern with scars across his cheek and upper lip, but it doesn’t take away from his handsomeness.

König stays quiet for a while before walking forward and grabbing a rag to wipe his hands off on, “Okay, let me take a look.”

Tossing the rag aside he walks forward towards you with his hand out for your keys. You place them in his palm, his eyes looking down at you as he towers over you with his 6’10 frame. You turn on your heels and walk to your car with König following close behind. His eyes are glued to the way your ass sways with every step you take.

He unlocks your car and leans in to turn the car on. His eyes watching the dashboard as the engine stalls turning over. Once your car eventually does, he hears the loud sound you spoke of and he knows the issue.

“You have a bad alternator.” He steps back and looks down at you before opening the hood of your car. “It’s an easy fix, should only take an hour, two at most.”

His eyes go back to you and his gaze lingers on your cleavage before looking back down at the car, “There are seats in the shop, you can wait there.”

“Okay, thank you.” You walk back to the garage and pull out your phone to help pass the time. You look around to see an old photo of a car and nothing else personal. The space is clean and only the sound of his radio fills the space.

An hour and a half passes by and König walks in. You put your phone back in your bag and stand.

“She turns on, no issues now.” He says as his eyes look around the shop trying not to be too intense with his gaze.

“Oh, thank you so much sir, -”

“König.” He cuts you off, his gaze going back to yours.

“Thank you, König.” You smile warmly at him. Looking down at your purse you begin to fish your wallet out, “How much do I owe you?”

König looks at the wallet in your hands before his gaze travels over your body once more. He wasn’t interested in your money. There is one thing he’s wanted since he saw you walking up to him, you. He didn’t want to be a perve and ask for it, so he just gave you a price, “$600.”

Your face drops as you only have $400 until next payday, “Can I pay $200 now, and the rest later.”

“I don’t take payments.”

“Oh...”

“But,” he walks closer to you, “I’m sure we can figure something out.” His large hand caresses the side of your face, a smirk on his lips.

You end up in the back of his SUV with blacked out windows parked behind his garage. Your clothes stripped off and thrown on the floor, your body completely exposed to him. His shirt pulled off showing you his muscular abdomen as his pants are pulled down around his knees. A soft blonde happy trail leading from his belly button to his erection. One of his hands gripping your thigh and holding one leg up as his other hand guides his condomless cock to your pussy.

He pushes in slowly at first, letting out a soft groan as he feels how tight you are. Your warm gummy walls wrapping around his cock as he bullies his way inside.

“Mein Gott your pussy is so tight Maus,” he moans as he grabs your other leg now. His lips kiss your legs up to your feet as he slowly bucks his hips forward. Your hands grasp the seat as he fucks you. Pathetic mewls leave your lips, feeling your pussy being stretched to an almost painful point.

“You’re so beautiful…” Letting go of one leg, he moves his hands down to your breast and begins to tug on your nipple, leaning in as his lips find your nipple; licking before sucking on your sensitive peak. His tongue circling around before wrapping his lips around and pulling gently, your fingers combing through his blonde hair. His mind wished you were full of milk so he could drink from you. His hands dropping down to your stomach and caressing your soft skin. Oh, how beautiful you’d look swollen and full with his child.

“You need a man to take care of you Schatzi,” he leans back and looks at your pretty pussy stretching around his fat cock. The sound of your wet cunt sounding like angels singing to him. He pushes both legs back and leans into you more as he begins to pound your pussy harder. His eyes watching your breast bounce before his eyes travel to your stomach. You’re tiny compared to his massive body, but taking his dick so well.

“I could be that man,” he groans, “you’d never have to worry about your car ever again Liebling.” His voice was laced with lust and ecstasy. König has never desired a woman so much before as he desires you.

“Just have my baby, let me fuck my baby into you.” He growls as one of his hands goes to your sopping wet pussy as begins to rub your clit.

Legs twitching, you’re lost in the euphoria of the moment. His cock filling you and making you so dick dizzy you don’t even fully register his words. “Please, yes, fuck me.”

“That’s what I want to fucking hear.” König grabs your leg and moves you on your side. He lays his body behind you on the seat and lifts your leg up. His face by yours as he gently kisses your neck and the side of your face. His cock slipped back into your wet pussy, causing your eyes to flutter. He let out a small sigh, “That’s my girl.”

König moves hair from your face as he continues to kiss all over you, “You’re so perfect Schatzi.”

His hand slowly slips down your thigh as he begins to rub your clit again, “Cum for me Liebling, cum on my cock.”

You turn your head to look at König, his eyebrows pinched together as his mouth hangs open. His eyes meet your and he leans in to kiss your soft lips. His tongue licks your lips before pushing between them. His tongue twirling in yours and tasting you, he’s in heaven. He can feel you begin to tighten around him as your legs begin to tremble. Your kiss begins to get lazy as you concentrate on your orgasm.

“Please, please, please.” You moan out, your breathing heavy. His hand rubs over your swollen sensitive clit faster making you squirm in his arms. You feel how wet you get as your pussy begins to squeeze around his cock, his balls tightening as he is eager to get off.

König’s eyes roll back as he leans his head against the seat now, his arm under you wrapping tightly around your stomach and grabs it. “Do you want my cum?”

“Yes,” you look back still on a high and watch his face as he closes his eyes while the pleasure takes over his whole being, “please cum in my tight pussy.”

That made him let out a loud groan as he moaned your name. His cock begins to throb as he releases deep inside of you. He leans forward to kiss your neck and check, desperately wanting your lips. You turn your head to meet his lips as you both kiss passionately.

Nine weeks later your car is still running great, but you’re 4 days late.

Part 2

#konig #konig x y/n #konig cod #konig x reader #könig #könig x reader #konig smut #könig smut #könig cod #könig mw2 #konig x you #konig x reader smut #könig x y/n #könig x you #könig call of duty #smut

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