petitioning for sinclair x reader content rn. . pretty please with a cherry on top. and maybe toss in some yesod x reader too if you don’t mind me being a greedy ahh
-sinclair enthusiast
Yasss
Some zoom in hehi
I think i may draw yesod in another post. I THINK.
pairing: britney griner x press!reader
warnings: ~2k. drinking liquor, size kink, BG is 6”9, strap sex, strap/wall sex, wlw, (this request is from august omg), mdni, no specific descriptions of reader, mature language
“are you down to be a distraction, baby?”
The press row at the Atlanta Dream game is buzzing with reporters and flashing screens creating a sense of excitement. You adjust your press badge and smooth your blouse, already feeling the adrenaline from tip-off coursing through you.
Midway through the third quarter, you finally get your chance. Weaving through the sideline crowd, mic hot in your hand, you quickly catch Britney's attention. She arches an eyebrow, and that trademark smirk is playing at her lips as she heads your way. The arena noise swells around you, and she has to bend down, way down, so her ear is just inches from your lips. You try to keep your voice steady as you ask about her defensive strategy, but your core heats up at the proximity. Her gaze lingers a beat too long, and you swear you see her tongue dart across her bottom lip.
Nearby fans cheer, oblivious to the current running between you, to the flutter in your chest you desperately try to ignore. When she straightens up and walks away, she glances back over her shoulder, and her smirk deepens. She knows exactly what she's doing to you.
Atlanta pulls ahead in the fourth, sealing the win with a roar from the crowd. You're gathering up all your gear when your phone buzzes.
"Drinks at your hotel tonight?"
You've been flirting with each other for months: stolen glances across crowded press conferences and lingering conversations that stretch well past professional courtesy. The tension between you is impossible to ignore, the kind that makes your skin hum whenever she's near. There have been close calls before, a hand on your lower back that lingered too long, her eyes dropping to your lips mid-sentence, but neither of you has crossed that line. Tonight feels different.
You meet in the lobby, and the moment you spot her leaning against a marble column in joggers and a fitted tank, your pulse kicks up. She straightens when she sees you, that slow smile spreading across her face.
"There she is," Britney says, pushing off the column with a grin. "My favorite reporter."
"Your favorite?" You arch a brow. "Pretty sure you left me hanging last week when I asked about your pre-game ritual and you said, ‘positive energy and manifestation.’"
She laughs, low and genuine. "Yeah, and watching you scramble for a new question? Adorable." Her gaze drifts over you, slow and deliberate. "Plus, you bite your lip when you're thinking. It's distracting."
"Distracting?" You fall into step beside her toward the elevators, warmth creeping up your neck.
"I'm a serious journalist, Griner."
"Uh-huh." She presses the elevator button, glancing down at you with a smirk. "And I'm just here for the intellectual conversation."
The elevator doors slide open. Inside, the space feels smaller than it should, the air charged. She leans against the brass railing, arms crossed, studying you with an intensity that makes your stomach flip.
"You know," she says as the floors tick upward, "I've been thinking about you all game."
"Yeah?" Your voice comes out breathier than you intended.
"Yeah." She steps closer, close enough that you can smell her cologne—something clean and expensive. "Couldn't focus on the post-game interviews. Kept wondering if you'd actually say yes."
To drinks?" You meet her eyes, emboldened. "Or to something else?"
The elevator chimes. Doors slide open, but neither of you moves right away. Then her hand finds the small of your back, firm but easy, steering you out into the hallway. You can’t help noticing how effortlessly she takes the lead.
"Let's start with drinks," she murmurs near your ear, voice low enough to spark heat along your skin, "and see where the night takes us."
At the minibar, your hands buzz as you pour two shots, the smell of tequila cutting through the air. She clinks her glass against yours with a lazy grin, and you two throw back shots.
Britney settles onto the barstool, elbows resting casually on the minibar counter like she’s perfectly at home. You’re still standing, somewhere between nervous and bold, and before you realize it, you’ve stepped between her knees. Her thigh brushes yours— her firm muscle under the soft give of joggers and your breath catches.
"So," you blurt out, powered by tequila and proximity, "what are we doing here, Griner?"
She grins, all mischief and heat. "What do you want us to be doing?"
You pour another round, the tequila burning down your throat. "I don't know yet," you admit. "But I have some ideas."
"Yeah?" She pulls you closer, her hand finding your hip. "Tell me."
Instead of answering, you kiss her. She tastes like salt and lime. When she deepens the kiss, pulling you flush against her, your knees nearly buckle. Her hands slide down to cup your ass and you gasp into her mouth. She pulls you closer until you can feel every breath she takes. The counter digs lightly into your hip, but you don’t care—you’re too caught up in the way her tongue moves against yours.
Your hands find her shoulders, then her jaw, fingers tracing the sharp line of it before curling into her hair. The kiss grows slower, heavier, your mouths parting only to find each other again. Her lips are slick and swollen, and every time they meet yours, you feel that heady mix of liquor and want curling low in your stomach.
When she finally pulls back just enough to breathe, your lips tingle, your chest rising and falling fast. You’re dizzy, drunk on tequila and her, every nerve alive and buzzing.
"Bed," you manage between kisses. "Now."
She walks you backward until your legs hit the mattress, and you fall together onto the plush duvet. She hovers over you, all six-foot-nine of her, and the size difference makes your pulse race. Her mouth finds yours again, hungry and demanding, while her hands pull your shirt over your head. She's exploring the newly revealed skin, calloused fingers trailing up your ribcage.
"You're so fucking beautiful," she murmurs against your lips, her hand cupping you through your bra. You arch into her touch, and she grins.
"Britney—" you gasp as her hands tighten on your chest. She silences you with another kiss, her thumb brushing over your nipple until it peaks beneath the fabric. You whimper, and she unhooks your bra with practiced ease pushing the fabric aside. When her mouth closes around your nipple, you cry out.
"That's it," she encourages, her tongue circling and flicking while her hand works your other breast. The dual sensation has you squirming beneath her, heat pooling between your thighs.
Her hand slides down your stomach, popping the button of your jeans. "Can I?"
"Yes, God, yes-"
She works your jeans down your hips, her fingers trailing teasingly over your inner thighs. When she finally cups you through your underwear, she groans. "Fuck, you're soaked."
"Your fault," you gasp, hips bucking into her hand.
She laughs, low and satisfied, rubbing slow circles that have you seeing stars. "All for me?" She pushes your underwear aside, her fingers gliding through your wetness.
You're trembling. "Wait..." You nod toward her bag. "What's in your bag?"
She pauses, eyebrow raised, then that wicked grin spreads across her face. "You want to know?"
"Show me."
She climbs off the bed, crossing to her duffel bag near the door. When she unzips it and pulls out the harness and a strap on, your breath catches. "I had a feeling," she says, watching your reaction. "That okay?"
"More than okay."
She strips off her clothes unselfconsciously, all lean muscle and confidence, then steps into the harness and adjusts it. The sight of her like this makes your core clench with anticipation.
She starts heading back toward you, but you hold up a hand.
"Wait, I want another shot first."
She laughs, surprised, but gestures toward the minibar. "Go ahead."
You pour tequila with shaking hands, bringing the glass to your lips. Just as you are about to drink, you feel her behind you—her presence massive and overwhelming. Her large hand wraps around your throat, not choking, just holding, possessive and sure. Your head falls back against her chest, the shot glass trembling in your hand.
"Mmhmm," you manage, the sound caught between a moan and a sigh.
"Take your shot, baby," she murmurs against your ear, her other hand sliding around your waist. "Then I'm taking you against that wall."
You down the tequila in one burning gulp, grab the lime, and bite down. Before you can even set the glass down, she's spinning you around, lifting you, pressing you against the wall with a force that steals your breath.
"You ready?" The head of the strap presses between your legs, and her eyes are on you.
"Please."
She slowly pushes in, watching your reaction. The stretch makes your head thunk back against the wall, and she fills you completely. Her hands grip your thighs, holding you up.
"Fuck, Britneyy"
"Yeah, that's it." The angle is perfect. Every thrust hits that spot and you're clinging to her shoulders, nails definitely leaving marks.
Britney is so strong it's stupid, holding you up like it's nothing, her hips snapping into you with a perfect rhythm.She's watching your face the whole time, reading every reaction, adjusting based on the sounds you're making.
"Look at me," she says, voice rough. "Taking it so good. You gonna come for me?"
"Yes—fuck, yes—"
Her thumb finds your clit and you completely unravel. You come hard, crying out her name. Your core clenching around the strap while you try to catch your breath. But she keeps moving, keeps talking you through it until you're shaking and can barely hold on.
"Good girl," she says, kissing your temple. "I got you."
Your legs are jelly. Actually useless. "I can't... I don't think I can stand."
She laughs, still holding you up easily. "Good thing I'm not done with you yet."
Britney carries you to the bed, sitting down on the edge with you still impaled on the strap. The new angle makes you gasp, and she grins up at you.
"Come on, baby," she says, hands on your hips. "Ride me."
"Britney, I just... I can barely..."
"I know." Her hands guide you, helping you move. "I've got you."
You start to move, grinding down, and oh fuck. This angle is different. Deeper somehow. Your hands brace on her shoulders because your thighs are still shaking.
"That's it," she encourages. "Use me. Take what you need."
You find a rhythm, rolling your hips, grinding down. The friction is doing something to her too because her breathing gets heavier, her grip on your hips tighter.
"Fuck," she mutters. "Keep doing that. The harness... you're..."
Oh. Oh. The base is rubbing against her clit every time you grind down. You do it again, harder, and she actually groans.
"You like that?" you manage, even though you're the one falling apart.
"Don't get cocky," she says, but her hips are moving now too, meeting your movements, and suddenly you're both chasing this.
You're laughing a little, breathless and overwhelmed, because this is fun. It's hot as hell but it's also fun, the two of you grinning at each other between moans, her hands everywhere, your bodies moving together.
"Come on," she says, voice strained now. One hand slides between you, fingers finding your clit again. "Come with me. Can you do that?"
"Yeah... fuck, yeah..."
She works you with her fingers while you grind down harder, faster, the strap hitting deep and her breathing ragged in your ear. When you come this time it's different, slower but somehow more intense, and you feel her tense beneath you, her hand gripping your hip hard enough to bruise as she comes too.
You collapse against her, both of you breathing hard, sweaty and spent. She wraps her arms around you properly this time, holding you close.
"Holy shit," you mumble against her shoulder.
She laughs, the sound rumbling through her chest. "Yeah. Holy shit."
Afterward, she carries you to the bed, both of you collapsing in a tangle of limbs and laughter. She holds you close, wrapped in her arms. You drift off against her forearm, your heartbeat syncing with hers.
Sunlight eventually peeks through the hotel curtains. Your phone buzzes on the nightstand:
"Early morning press. Didn't want to wake you. Let's not wait so long next time."
Minseok had his mansion for as long as you'd known him. It wasn't surprising given that he was a multimillionaire heir to one of the most reputed entertainment companies in Seoul.
However despite having such vast area, he spent most of his time in his room. His room had definitely borne witness to quite a lot—your first night there, what you'd assumed to be your last night there, screaming arguments that lasted late into the night and usually ended with him giving you better reasons to scream, more nights that you couldn't distinguish as pain or passion, late mornings where you rolled around on his bed since you'd usually be too sore to move and of course, every time a shred of sanity crept into you—you’d leave for good.
Until he'd find you and have you right back in this room, right where you both wanted each other.
Tears of both pain and pleasure, screams that left your throat hoarse, moans that gradually increased in volume, animalistic growls and grunts every time he was close to his high, the delicious sound of skin slapping against skin, bedframe groaning and slamming against the wall repeatedly enough to leave deep dents--the room had seen a lot. And on the many mornings where you'd slowly crept out of bed after endless hours of thinking, as soon as he'd fallen deeply into sleep, you doubted whether it even knew of the way your heart broke and tears pricked in your eyes as you stood at the door, watching his sleeping frame.
It could never be. You knew that, and so did he.
Except you'd made a mistake. He lost control every time he had you underneath him and like an idiot, you'd lost control over your feelings as you spent night after night, gazing up at him hovering over you.
He knew this. And he understood the first time you'd left, shattering all your silly hopes of anything ever happening by not stopping you.
But then you'd crawled back. You'd said "fuck feelings, let's just fuck" and he'd only been too eager to comply.
What had already been toxic grew worse to heights that you'd both knowingly yet unknowingly taken it. You were stuck in a vicious loop of leaving his room every morning only to be back there the night after. And once Minseok understood how addicted you were, he was only that much more persistent to remind you every time of how much you’d miss out on if you really left.
Which is why today you’d made extreme hasty decisions—started a Tinder, matched with the first attractive guy you swiped across and set a date tonight.
Minseok wouldn’t stop you so were going to end this vicious cycle yourself. Regardless of the fact that no one else could fuck you better, you needed to find someone who made only your body hurt the morning after and not your heart too.
And it would have gone well if the restaurant your stupid Tinder match had picked wasn’t right opposite the building where Minseok was having his conference meeting.
You were seated right near the window, both your eyes meeting as he froze near his BMW, dark eyes widening at the sight of you seated with another man.
As if the timing couldn’t have been worse—your date decided to take your hand that was atop the table into his own then.
There was not a single set of eyes in the restaurant that wasn’t on the two of you as Minseok stormed inside to snatch that same hand and drag you outside.
For the first time, you started realising that maybe you weren’t the only one who was addicted as Minseok roughly kissed you in the leather seats of his car, already making you cum twice in the backseat with his fingers while you writhed and moaned before you even reached his house.
You were back in the room, the one that was both your hell and heaven as Minseok all but ripped your clothes off. He loved how you always became putty in his hands, helpless to your own sinister desires as you submitted yourself completely to him within these walls to be used like his plaything.
It was pathetic—but it was hard to hate it when it felt so unbelievably good.
“Daddy,” his favourite word was already slipping from your mouth in whimpers as he bent you over the bed, grabbing your arms roughly and stretching them upwards to the bedframe.
You squirmed as he bound your wrists together with the coarse rope, the rough scratchy material digging into your skin while he tied you to the wood frame. You bit back a scream as you felt his hand strike your ass, the delicious sting making you jolt as it spread fire through your veins.
“What’s wrong, slut?” Minseok hissed, grabbing your hair to yank your head up from the pillow. “Don’t hold yourself back, let me hear those screams.” He pulled the pillow that was beneath your face and threw it to the ground, not wanting you to hide your face anywhere.
“I’ve been too easy on you lately,” he mutters and you hear him unbuckle his pants which throws you off—he’d already tied your hands up, he didn’t need his belt.
And then you realised as you felt it slap against your ass.
“Fuck, Minseok!” You screamed his name and you heard him stop, grabbing your hair again.
“Daddy, Daddy, Daddy, I’m sorry,” you’re immediately correcting yourself as you feel arousal over your entire core from the sting that was still burning through your body.
“You’re going to count for Daddy like a good girl,” he growled into your ear, grabbing your breast and pinching your nipple as you moaned loudly, nodding in obedience. This made him slap your breast and you immediately cried, “Yes, Daddy!”
Tears sting your eyes and the physical pain and pleasure that Minseok then takes your body to as he lays you over his lap and smacks the leather belt against your reddening ass helps you forget every single thought you had about this fucked up relationship.
No. Right now, you focused on whimpering numbers with every slap, feeling yourself grow wetter and wetter with each slap and revelled in how Minseok grew harder beneath your dripping pussy, free fingers playing you like a violin as he overworked your sensitive bud until you were shaking.
He wouldn’t stop until both of you were satisfied. The fact that he could have walked away from the restaurant hovers in your mind like a threatening shadow, the possibility that he was feeling jealousy made fire crawl up your skin.
But tonight, both of you would ignore these haunting thoughts as he channelled his emotions into punishing you while you drowned in another night of blissful screams from repeated orgasms because you knew he wouldn’t stop until you passed out.
Screams that only these walls could hear for it was the only truth they knew. In a relationship that burned more than it blossomed, where only deception, dishonesty and sometimes even detestation manifested—you knew that if these walls could talk, they’d say that the most honesty they’d ever seen from the two of you was when you both succumbed to the animalistic carnal pleasures within where every ugly emotion came out to play in the darkness of this room.
Hello, first off you're a wonderful writer, and second I was wondering if I could request Masc Reader that has tattoos x Nika Mühl? Reader being a pro wnba player, and maybe there is some sexual and regular tension between reader and nika during a rough basketball game and so throughout the whole game nika is just teasing reader and reader is getting like seriously pissed off so after the game they take it out on eachother?
you just wrote the whole fic right here. this is cinema
but fr, yes i can write this and add it to my queue!!
too tired to make this anon lol :3 can I get a stimboard for Betty Grof (adventure time) with themes of magic, domesticity, artifacts/fossils, and just going bonkers? if u need to leave a theme out u can, but the magic and bonkers r important.
