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nereidprinc3ss · 5 days

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strange perfections

in which spencer reid and fem!reader meet by accident at a coffee shop. and then they keep meeting there. they've really got to stop meeting like this. (no, seriously. hotch is pissed.) / do you believe me now? bonus chapter!

fluff! warnings/tags: meet cute:) some dark humor, romantically inexperienced reader, spencer reid graduated from caltech, mit, and the derek morgan school of rizz a/n: this can absolutely be read as a standalone BUT it was written as a prologue for my series do you believe me now? to explain how spencer and r met! completely optional, if you're only here for the smut no worries! reading this bonus chapter might make the next chapter better though as it contains discussions of how they met:) anyway, I LOVE YOU!! let me know if you like this silly little random thing! kisses

The café door opens again. A blustery wind raises goosebumps on your arms and makes your bones ache again. You look up at the latest intruder—a hobbling elderly man in a newsboy cap and a knit red scarf.

Stupid scarf, you think.

Stupid door.

Stupid wind.

Your mug is empty, and the table you’re sitting at is sort of sticky and rickety, and there are so many papers in front of you that you wonder why the hell you thought it’d be a good idea to print the PDF out and annotate it that way instead of just doing it on your laptop like a normal person in the 21st century. Nothing is going right today. It’s the third café you’ve tried in the past few weeks as you attempt to find some place that feels homey, lucky, but this one just feels… inconvenient.

You look at the stack of papers and sigh.

Stupid Lord Byron.

Stupid cafe.

Usually, cafés are relatively quiet and peaceful—a refuge for the overworked to bask in the luxury of quiet jazz and the smell of dark roast as they continue to overwork themselves. This particular establishment, however, today hosts a group of teenagers—presumably playing hooky—who have commandeered a big booth in the back and keep walking right past your table because apparently they couldn’t have just ordered their drinks at once and they all have to do it separately and loudly.

One of them has an incredibly irritating, gratingly pubescent laugh, and they think everything is hilarious. This whole situation is unbearable.

Just as you’re gearing up to go, of course the fucking door opens again. This time, it’s accompanied by a particularly strong gust.

Strong enough that Lord Byron doesn’t stand a chance.

Your printed copy of his works blows off the table, at first page by painstakingly annotated page and then before you can even process it, all at once.

Yeah. This is definitely not your lucky café.

As you curse and go to stand up, you run into one of those dumb kids. His huge ceramic mug goes flying, careening against the edge of your table and completely splattering you and all your stuff in 16 liquid ounces of scalding espresso and milk.

It’s silent for a second, save for a few drips from the puddle on your table to the floor, before the kid is apologizing profusely and turning red as a tomato. You can’t even respond—you look down at your ruined favorite sweater, and then around at the pages of Byron littered with color-coded sticky notes, overflowing with angry and purposeful red ink that you spent so much time on, scattered all over the floor.

Eventually the boy catches on that you’re not going to forgive him and he skitters away, back to his friends, who whisper and giggle profusely. Only a few of them get up to start gathering the fallen pages with you. Several other patrons end up helping as well, so the sheets of paper are gathered and returned into your sticky hands fairly quickly. You thank each person without looking up as they hand you their respective stack. All you want is to get out of here.

“Here—I’m really sorry about this,” someone says—a tenor-ish male voice, distinctly sympathetic as he holds out a rather larger stack of papers than anyone else had bothered to pick up.

“I’ll live,” you sigh, straightening up. “But thank… you.”

The man standing in front of you is the kind of man who makes you want to untuck your hair from its usual spot behind your ears, and to stand up straighter, and to try and not stare even though you want his attention. He’s gloriously beautiful in a way that repels and attracts you. He’s the type of man who wouldn’t have given you the time of day in high school and probably wouldn’t now. Instantly you feel both insecure and reduced to a former version of you who would simper and fawn over boys who wanted nothing to do with her. You feel like going to the other side of the café and sitting in the best light and staring out the window poetically and hoping he’s looking at you.

“On the one hand, I feel bad for being the person who opened the door and let the wind in. On the other… I feel compelled to say at least they’re not covered in coffee like the rest of your table is?”

You laugh vacantly, a second too late, positively coveting the awkward smile on his angular face. Then you make eye contact, and his eyes are so the opposite of angular—they’re huge and inviting and the warmest golden-brown you’ve ever seen, and they’re looking right back at you—and you have to look down. Fuck. You hate when you do that.

Think of something normal to say!

“Yeah, true. Now I just have to reorder 264 pages. That… that don’t have page numbers.”

You shuffle through the papers. They are hopelessly scrambled. Your heart sinks just a bit.

“Um… I might actually be able to help with that, if you want?”

You frown, glancing up. What kind of sex trafficking ploy is this?

“That’s okay. Might be easier with just one person.”

He laughs—it’s similarly awkward, similarly endearing.

“Do you mind letting me just… try? It’ll only take a minute.”

Only take a minute? Is this beautiful man deranged? Why are the hot ones always crazy?

But, perhaps because you’re a pushover who can’t stand up to people, much less beautiful people, much less beautiful men who are paying you undue attention, you find yourself giving in. You hold the stack out.

“Sure. Give it your best shot. I’ll be impressed if you can even figure out what page one is.”

He’s already flipping through the papers with a drawn brow, walking away with them, and barely looking over his shoulder as he mutters, “I have Byron memorized. It shouldn’t be too difficult.”

You follow him, because hello, he has all your annotations. He’s definitely insane, you think, as he sits down at a table and starts rapidly sorting the sheets into separate piles.

All you can do is stand awkwardly behind him as he stacks papers seemingly at random, barely glancing at them before deciding where they go.

Maybe a minute, maybe a few go by, each of which have you progressively more flabbergasted, before he’s tapping the edges of a stack of paper on the table and standing, handing them to you with his lips pressed into a thin pleasant line. There’s almost a glow about him—like he couldn’t be more in his comfort zone.

“There you go. Should be in order now.” You sport a frown bordering on a grimace as you take the stack and flip through it a bit. Sure enough, it seems that everything is in order. You keep looking between the man in front of you and the papers, incredulous as you wait for something to be in the wrong spot.

“How did you do that?”

His cheeks turn slightly pink.

“I know Byron really well. I know how each passage ends and begins so I put them together like puzzle pieces.”

“How did you read that fast?”

“Uh. I’m a speed-reader?”

You scoff, taking another look through the stack.

“I think that may be underselling it.” A thought occurs to you as you’re grazing over one of your longer annotations—full of expletives and strong opinions. “Oh, god. You didn’t… you didn’t read my notes?”

The man’s eyebrows raise as if he was waiting for you to mention that and he smiles like he doesn’t quite know how to break it to you gently.

“Maybe a few,” he eventually decides, laughing under his breath. “I appreciated the commentary on his relationship with Augusta. It was… colorful.”

Heat rises in your cheeks as you mumble.

“Yeah, I had a hard time appreciating the romantic poems. They’re less cute when there’s like a fifty percent chance he’s writing about his sister.”

“Half sister,” he corrects. You give him a look.

“Does that make it better?”

“… no,” he realizes. “Not even a little bit.”

You laugh, relieved that his face looks as warm as yours feels.

“Well… thank you, for the help,” you say after a silent second.

“Of course. Sorry, again. I, um—I hope your day gets better?”

“Yeah, well. I feel like statistically it has to, right? It’s kind of a low bar.”

He smiles, a perfect, perfect smile, and gives you a little wave as he leaves. Without coffee. Checking the clock on the wall, you realize it’s approaching one in the afternoon. If he’d been here on his lunch break, he sacrificed it to organize your stupid Byron texts. You smile to yourself.

He was totally in love with me.

And he can’t prove me wrong because I’ll probably never see him again.

All things considered—this coffee shop does seem pretty lucky. Maybe you’ll stick with it for a while.

The next time you see the mysterious sexy speed reader is four days later—though you’ve been here every day since. He catches your eye right as he walks in, and his brows jump in pleasant recognition. You smile. He smiles back, before going up to the counter and ordering a coffee with a ludicrous amount of sugar in it.

I should take note for when I make him his coffee in the mornings, you think to yourself, and then you snort at your own delusions, shaking your head at your book. Obviously you’re not that divorced from reality, but you’ll entertain the fantasy forever until one of you stops showing up to this café.

What you’re absolutely not expecting is for him to walk up to your table with his to-go cup.

“Hi,” he says.

“Hi!”

Jesus. Tone it down, girl scout.

He gestures to your stack of papers: now secured in a three ring binder. The cup says Spencer.

Spencer. Spencer.

It feels important.

“I see you’ve upgraded.”

“Yes! Yes, I did,” you laugh self-consciously, still struggling to meet his eyes. “Thank you for the help the other day. I would still be sorting through all of this if it weren’t for that, so… yeah. Thanks.”

“Of course! I’m glad I could be of use.”

“Spence!” Someone calls from the cafe door. You both look up to see a stunning blonde beckoning him away.

Ah. Naturally. The girlfriend who is one trillion times prettier than you.

Spence.

Reality sets in.

“Coming!” He replies, with all the eager compliance of a child, before turning back to you. “Um… well… I’ll see you?”

It’s an awkward way to say goodbye to a stranger, but you suddenly don’t care enough to dwell. Instead you nod once, less enthusiastic now that you know he has a 10 waiting for him on the sidewalk.

“I am a creature of habit.”

Another wave as he walks away.

The two disappear from the doorway, but the perpetual breeze seems to carry a snatched bit of conversation your way.

“Who was that?”

“Uh… I don’t actually know.”

Yeah. Reality definitely sets in.

Over the next few days, you break your café streak. Life is busy. There’s not always time to artfully ponder Romantic poetry and drink a six dollar coffee while waiting around for certain people to show up.

Okay, so… maybe it has more to do with him than you’re letting on. But you’re not going to do that thing you do again, where you become limerently obsessed with a man you don’t know and who is way out of your league just because you can’t form an actual attachment to anyone to save your life. Besides, you remind yourself; we probably wouldn’t be compatible anyway. He’s probably a huge loser. Or secretly a douche. Or chews with his mouth open. Obviously nobody that attractive can also have a good personality.

Not to mention he has a girlfriend. That should put you off, too.

But you hadn’t been lying when you’d proclaimed to be a creature of habit—you return to the café once you feel sufficiently detached from this Spencer character.

He’s there. Of course he’s there. Why had you been expecting for him to not be there? It’s not like he was a figment of your imagination.

This time he’s accompanied by a different blonde woman—a bespectacled blonde with a big floral headband and a patterned dress and a red cardigan and tights and heels that look self-injurious. She’s quite eye-catching; you want to keep looking at her, but you seem to draw her attention, too. Her big eyes widen minutely and briefly you wonder if you’re supposed to know her, but certainly you’d remember meeting a person like that. She doesn’t seem easily forgettable. Both of you look to Spencer at the same time, who’s looking between you with an almost panicked expression.

“Oh! Th—” the woman whispers, cutting herself off when she realizes how loud she’s being in the otherwise silent establishment. “Ah! Okay, right. Never mind.”

Spencer sighs. You want to laugh, but you’re baffled by the whole thing. So you go back to reading.

Ten minutes later, they draw your attention once more.

“Go, go ahead! It’s more problematic for you to be late than me. I’ll be like, thirty seconds tops.”

You don’t look up as Spencer leaves the café—but are you supposed to gather that these two eccentric individuals are coworkers? And what of the first blonde woman, who you’d presumed to be his girlfriend? Where is she?

While you’re wondering all of this, the new blonde teeters her way over to your table.

“Hi!” She says pleasantly, waving a purple-tipped hand and wearing the biggest grin.

“Uh… hi?”

“I’m Penelope. You’ve met my friend Spencer. He just left.”

“Oh—sort of,” you smile weakly, closing your book. “Not formally. I didn’t know his name.”

That’s a lie, but maybe feigning non-chalance will make it real.

“Well, I just wanted to come over and say I love your bag. And your jewelry and your coat. I love your whole look. I bet you’re a really cool person.”

“Um—thank you!” You perk up, smiling genuinely now. The compliment warms you—you didn’t think your look was all that interesting today. “You too. I love your outfit.”

“Great! You’re—you’re great. This is good information. Um… just out of, like, sheer curiosity, could I get your name, age, and occupation? Oh—and your zodiac sign?”

What kind of convoluted sex trafficking ploy—

“Garcia!”

Spencer is at the doorway again, looking adorably miffed.

Adorable? Get a grip.

“Wh—I’m just making a new friend! Is friendship illegal, now?”

“This is the kind of friend-making that gets you a restraining order,” he urges.

You look up at Penelope Garcia, enamored by their whole dynamic. They clearly care for each other, despite the squabbling. What kind of job do they have where they talk to each other like this?

“It’s fine,” you smile, introducing yourself to her.

“That is such a good name!” She says, and you’re getting the sense she’s kind of always this enthusiastic. “So now we know each other’s names—we should probably definitely be friends, right?”

“Yeah! Um, definitely!”

“Yes? Oh my god! I love this! Okay, um—we work at Quantico, so, we’re like, 10 minutes away—but this is better than the coffee shop that’s closest to the building, so we come here all the time. Usually it’s just us and five grouchy old men, which makes this is really exciting.”

“Quantico… that’s the FBI academy, right?”

“Other stuff, too,” she nods, still smiley.

Oh! Cool. So they’re FBI agents.

So that’s cool.

You’re cool with that.

Her phone starts ringing—she locks eyes with Spencer.

“Hotch?”

“Ooh, we are in trouble,” Penelope sing-songs, leaning down to write her number on your notebook without asking. Not that you mind, of course. She adds a little heart and a smiley face next to her name before capping your pen and toddling away. “Bye, new friend!” She calls over her shoulder, waving goodbye with just her fingers.

“Bye,” you manage, though it’s probably too quiet.

Spencer flattens his mouth into an approximation of a smile and waves again.

You accidentally find yourself mirroring his goodbye, facial expression and all. Fuck. You hope he doesn’t notice. You hope he doesn’t read into it.

Nah. Boys are dumb.

You text Penelope later that afternoon—a simple greeting so that she can save your number—and then you forget about it.

It’s not until five days go by without sign of any of them—the two blondes, Spencer, this mysterious and foreboding Hotch figure—that you start to seriously question your sanity. Did they drop off the face of the planet, or what?

But of course, just as you’re sitting at your usual table, Spencer walks in. Alone.

He sees you immediately, but instead of the wave you’d come to expect, he immediately flushes, looks down at his shoes and hurries into the small lunch-rush line.

Weird.

You corner him at the coffee bar, where he’s adding more sugar to his coffee. How are his teeth so nice if he does this to himself every single day?

“Hey,” you say, affecting casual confidence as you bus your empty mug. “… Spencer, right?”

It’s comical how you’re pretending you haven’t turned that name over and looked at it from every angle hundreds of times since the first time you heard it.

He nods, only glancing up at you as he stirs. To your surprise, he knows your name, too. When you give him an odd look, he smiles almost apologetically, finally looking at your face for longer than half a second.

“I heard you introducing yourself to Penelope. Sorry if that’s…”

“No, no! Is she around, today? I texted her last week, but she never responded...”

“Today is operating system update day, so I don’t even really have a way of knowing if she’s alive in her office.” It’s funny to him, but you just smile, baffled. He notices your silence and catches on, scrambling to explain himself. “She’s our tech analyst. There are 243 computers in our building and she has to update them all remotely, which requires getting every agent to agree to not touch their computer at the same time for an hour or so.”

“Oh… does the FBI not have, like… an IT guy, or something?”

He laughs again—the way his eyes crinkle when he does it makes you a little breathless.

“You should say that to her. I think you would become her favorite person.”

It’s hard not to smile when he’s smiling because of you—however indirectly that may be. Quickly you realize you’ve both been standing in front of the coffee bar for too long.

“Alright, well… tell her good luck, for me?”

“I would, but I’ve been kicked out for an hour while she does the updates.”

Your brow furrows and you laugh.

“From the whole building? You just can’t keep your hands off your computer for an hour?”

“Not if I want to do my job, no. And I am kind of obsessive about my job. I’ve been the reason she had to start the whole process over again before and I’d rather not be that person again.”

You say it before you can think too hard.

“Well, if you have an hour to kill… there’s an open seat at my table? No pressure, obviously.”

And that was the first of thousands of hours you would come to spend with Spencer Reid.

After that, it sort of becomes a regular thing. He comes almost every day—except for occasional week or so long stretches, which you have discovered are a part of his absolutely fucking insane job—and sits with you, sometimes with Penelope, once with the other blonde, JJ, who you’ve since deduced is not his girlfriend, most often alone. Usually he can’t spare more than ten minutes, but he begins pushing it, little by little, until thirty minutes go by and you think surely his boss (the great and all-powerful Hotchner) must be beginning to notice.

One day, during your usual lunchtime rendezvous, his phone rings. He talks right on through it, like it’s not happening.

It ceases. And then it starts again.

Your head drops to your shoulder, something like pity or regret softening your features. He catches your eye and melts slightly, mid-sentence—like he knows you’re about to tell him to be responsible.

“Do you think you should…”

His hands drop from where they’d been enthusiastically positioned mid-air.

“They’ll be fine if I’m late from lunch one time. I’m usually more punctual than any of them.”

You roll your lip between your teeth—it’s not that you want to tell him to go; in fact, those delusions you’ve been harboring about your future life together are only getting worse with each inexplicable minute he entertains your company.

But his job is important.

“What if you have a case?”

“Then I would have gotten more calls from more people by now.”

Your head tips back as you laugh lightly at his unwavering insistence.

“I’m flattered that you so enjoy my company that much. But I can’t with good conscience keep taking up your work hours like this.”

As the laughter fades, he just… watches you, lips slightly parted, eyes intense but not entirely present.

“You’re probably right,” he finally breathes. “Maybe… you should start taking up my other hours, instead?”

Spencer Reid, you unexpected charmer.

You balk.

“Like… we would hang out? At a different time of day? Not here?”

“Those are the basic premises, yes,” he chuckles, nodding affably. “I’ve never actually seen you anywhere else. For all I know you could be a ghost eternally tethered to this building.”

“Where would this hanging out take place?”

Fuck, you’re totally being weird. His brow knits.

“I don’t know. Where else do people hang out?”

He’s not genuinely asking you, he’s gently turning you in the right direction. You charge forward blindly.

“Restaurants.”

There’s that pretty smile of his again, the one that makes all the thoughts drain from your head like cold bathwater. Though, there’s a sort of mischievous edge to it now that you haven't seen before.

“That’s certainly an option. If I asked you to hang out with me at a restaurant... would you say yes?”

You look down. God, your face feels warm.

“Would you be asking me out on a date? In this hypothetical scenario that we’ve constructed, I mean.”

Spencer seems to think about it for a moment, which fills you with unexpected panic. When you look back up anxiously, he has the same smile on his face, but his eyes are a little softer now.

“I would.”

More panic sets in—just a bit. But you don’t let what is undoubtedly a tidal wave of anxiety break through the emotional guard-dam. Keep it together. This is a good thing. This is what you wanted.

Unfortunately, you are perhaps more transparent than you’d realized. Spencer begins to look slightly worried, leaning forward in his chair.

“You don’t have to say yes. I know we don’t know each other very well, I just—”

“No!” You find yourself assuring him, though you curse yourself because you kind of want to know what he was going to say. “I would say yes. I’ve just, um—god,” you laugh gustily, self-consciously. “Sorry I’m being so weird. I’m out of my depth. Nobody’s asked me on a date before. I don’t really know the etiquette.”

Spencer chuckles.

“You’re doing great. Don’t worry about it.”

Not, what?

Not, you’ve never been on a date before?

Not, that’s crazy, or that’s weird, or how have you gone your whole life without being asked out?

With the implication being, you’re odd. Different. Maybe not in a good way.

He says none of that.

“But I should probably actually ask you, huh?” His cheeks turn pink as his laughter is redirected inwards.

“Sounds like a good first step.”

Spencer is still smiling as he says your name and it sounds so good from his mouth. It makes you sound so real.

“Will you go on a date with me?”

Butterflies in your stomach doesn't begin to brush what you're experiencing—your entire abdominal cavity is like a Monarch sanctuary.

“I’d love to.”

He seems genuinely relieved as he beams, slumping back in his chair.

“Oh, thank god. I was so nervous you’d say no. I never do that. Thank you for not saying no. Not that you couldn’t have said no—it would have been completely fine and obviously within your rights to—”

His phone rings again. Both of you are relieved that he was interrupted—but admittedly you thought his rambling was super cute.

“I should—”

“You definitely need to go.”

“Yeah,” he agrees with a still-breathless smile. “Um—what’s your number?”

You look around fruitlessly for pen and paper.

“I don’t—”

“Just tell me. I’ll remember.”

He’s so weird.

A breeze hits your skin as he opens the door. You’re already writing your wedding vows in the back of your mind as you watch him go.

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

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ma1dita · 11 days

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pushover

luke castellan x dionysus!reader

a/n: usually you’re the one stitching Luke up but the one time he gets to do it for you, he knows you’re milking it. no trouble!verse tags, can be standalone -> she’s an ACTRESS okay? who tf wouldn’t want luke to kiss a booboo; this was a forgotten draft for my partners in crime series feel free to read

wc: 1.2k

“OWWWW!”

The sun shines again on Camp Half-Blood peeking through Luke’s dark curls as he towers over you, laughing from his position above. Your knee is scraped after cushioning your fall, or perhaps your attack, after Luke thought it’d be funny to push you again as he walked past.

Well, today’s been kind of boring, so might as well make the most of it right?

As a daughter of Dionysus, you do love to put on a good show.

There’s a glimmer of mischief in your eye as you do your best to convince him that he’s maimed you but as his eyes fall to the slightly aggravated skin, Luke sighs at the way you look like a kicked puppy, lower lip jutting out as you squint up at him.

“Stop being so overdramatic. It wasn’t that serious.”

“YOU SHOVED ME INTO A BUSH!”

The howl that leaves your throat catches the attention of other campers, who are familiar with your dramatics and your penchant for picking a fight with the son of Hermes. Luke sighs and runs his hands through his hair, groaning in embarrassment.

Gods forbid he look like the bad guy.

“Seriously, trouble— you're acting like I pushed you off a cliff,” he grumbles finally crouching down to reach for your leg to check how serious it is.

It’s not.

“You're a barbarian. Just because you think it's funny to push me around doesn't mean it actually is! Luke.... I can't walk! It feels like my bone is coming through. And I have so much work to do today, and now I'm gonna have to walk super slow…” you groan, still on the ground. Luke rolls his eyes and once he's checked the injury (the whole menacing palm-sized scrape) his expression softens the tiniest bit. He’s still kinda pissed off at you for being a drama queen though.

“Alright, it's not life-threatening so you're going to be fine. Look, I can carry you if I have to.”

Batting his hand away you roll your eyes, “Like I'd let you. You'd probably toss me into the lake again.”

Luke smirks, “Probably, but I swear to the gods that I wouldn't do anything to maim you. Not on purpose at least.” It’s almost criminal how easy it is to get on your nerves—he thinks you’ve finally shut your trap until he watches you fake crawl away to get a reaction out of him. Quite frankly, it’s embarrassing to everyone watching so he scoops you into his arms like you weigh nothing. Luke chuckles softly, wrapping his arms tightly around your squirming frame so you won't fall as he begins walking.

“So difficult. I swear…”

“Me? Never!” you groan, flopping in his arms like a dead body. Your dead weight makes his arms strain a little but his muscles are fun to look at from any angle, so…

You miss it when he starts speaking again, “You're too much, you know that?” A smirk grows upon your face, “And you can't get enough. The infirmary is the other way, Castellan....” Luke huffs as he turns 180 towards the infirmary, sighing softly at the way you are sprawled in his arms. But he keeps quiet because he knows how to pick and choose his battles. Something about the realization that he’d only do this for you makes him bite his lip in thought. But you think he’s trying to not laugh at you.

“What? You maim me and then you make fun of me? Haven't you done enough?” The words slip by as you peek at him through one open eye, his cheeks flushed and rosy. Hopefully, his brawn won’t expire on the short trek to the infirmary.

“You're lucky I don't drop you right now,” Luke jostles you with a lopsided grin he can’t hide anymore and it steadily gets bigger at the sound of your surprise.

“Don't you DARE, Luke Castellan!”

Grabbing onto his mop of curls, the boy winces as his nose brushes against your wrist, and the shockwaves it sends through your system are enough to send you reeling. Maybe it’s the way you almost sway with each step he takes, smooth and steady like a sailboat even when he’s carrying you like this.

He ends up having to carry you inside the infirmary and the Apollo kids on shift stop and stare at their two best counselors in the doorway. Luke tries to ignore them, setting you down on an empty cot and getting the medical supplies he needs to treat your wound. He looks at you propped on the bed like a little princess, cross-legged and fluttering eyelashes waiting for him to clean you up. It's not serious enough for ambrosia, he thinks, so he grabs an alcohol wipe instead.

Luke looks like he's trying his hardest not to smirk as he grabs your leg and begins carefully cleaning the scrape.

“Ow! Gentle! When I patch you up after you spar I don't do it maliciously!”

“I am being gentle, stop wriggling!” Luke grits his teeth as he continues to wipe the drying blood away. He's trying to be careful, but he's clearly irritated that you're not making this easy for him.

Tossing your knee over his lap and getting closer, suddenly you go quiet at the proximity. There’s something intimate about being tended to so delicately in a room filled with people. A quiet in the chaos reserved for only the two of you.

“So what, you think I'm too good for ambrosia? Sending me off to heal like a mortal— what type of nurse are you?”

“You drunk on ambrosia for a scrape would definitely make your dad thrilled and have the both of us cleaning the stables for the rest of the week,” Luke lets out a brief snicker as he meets your gaze, rolling your eyes as you lean against the wall. His hand unconsciously rubs circles into the skin above your knee, featherlight yet firm at the same time. You try to ignore the goosebumps that rise in its wake.

Luke doesn't say anything about it while he continues to look at you. He realizes that you look quite pretty even with windswept hair and dirt on your cheek, but he can't let you see that he's noticed. Something shifts in the air of the infirmary, more overpowering than the smell of antiseptic and it bubbles in both of your chests, overflowing and seeping into the small space between you.

Not bad for a boring day, you suppose. You make him piggyback you for the rest of the day in an attempt to guilt-trip him. But the huge smile on his face has all of your campers thinking otherwise.

—

The next day, he sees you walking perfectly fine. In fact, with the way you’re rushing to scold a Hephaestus kid for almost setting the armory on fire, he’s not sure he’s ever seen you move that fast in your life.

Warmth settles on your cheeks as your eyes dart between the kid you’re yelling at and Luke’s narrowing eyes from afar, and you can’t quite tell if the rush of emotions is from what you’re doing versus who you’re really looking at.

Maybe the next time he pushes you around he’ll find out.

#made by ma1dita ♥︎#trouble!verse #luke castellan x reader #pjo x reader #luke castellan fluff #luke castellan x dionysus!reader #percy jackon and the olympians

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ravengards-rogue · 1 month

Text

the evening stretch | warm-up series.

ft. the prompts, nsfw / "dinner" / arthur morgan.

✧ tags : afab!reader + fem!reader outdoors sex, oral (f!recieving), reader is an outlaw, established relationship, desperate arthur morgan, 18+

✧ wc : 2.7k

✧ a/n : hello! this is part of a little warm-up series i do on my other blog where i pick three prompts and try to come up with something. i normally do them in a rut. im working on a commission and im super stuck so.

this actually landed on javier four times in a row but im being kind and sparing a friend so. here's mr. morgan.

✧ synopsis : arthur thinks the place between your legs would suit him quite nicely.

.𖥔 ݁ ˖˚☽˚｡⋆

Honest to God, Arthur's never been like this before.

He ain't all that pious to start, so perhaps the sentiment doesn't stretch as far as he would like it too. But it's true, all the same - that in all the lives he's lived, he's never experienced this much bone-deep desire for another human being.

Which is outright ridiculous, since right now you're just making supper. Dinner, you always clarify with that yankee accent. You're going to have dinner together, 'cause Arthur needs to eat. He works hard, according to you.

It's not much, but you're a better cook than Pearson. Even if that's not saying a whole lot. And you're insistent on making the man eat, always on his case about how it's hardly enough for a man his size.

Arthur can chalk it up to being that you love him, as you have told him foolishly many times. He's sure you're not gonna be happy with him in a minute since again - all you're doing is making dinner.

It's just... something. Something about you today. Dammit, he doesn't understand it neither. You've got a job together, and you and Arthur play convincing husband and wife since you practically are anyway. Arthur's been watching you today closely. You lie pretty. Smile with all your teeth, clever with a careful finesse and an honest knack for debauchery and indecency.

You love calling yourself an awful woman. Joking about dying an unweddable spinster given your crudity.

But Arthur likes it in you. Of you. Likes it so much he's done nothing but readjust his pants watching you squirm your way out of every difficult situation and sling the revolver on your hip like a tried-and-true gunslinger.

You're a fine woman to him. A fine one.

The fire crackles as you place a pot over the little flame of the faux stove. You've made a real dinner somehow - with some vegetables and creeping thyme and carefully butchery of meat. It smells good and you seem proud of it, stirring the thing with the sharp end of your knife. Careful not to scrape the pot.

Arthur watches the light glow orange on your face, carefully observing the way it shines on you. You don't look up at all when you speak.

"Gonna stare a hole into me, Morgan."

He feels something warm crawl up his cheeks. He scratches his beard instinctively, tucking his hat over his eyes.

"'m sorry," He says, unsure of how to cover for himself. "Been thinking about some things."

"Don't hurt yourself," You reply, sardonic and dry. Arthur adores you. He laughs to himself and feels warmed by the pleasant smile that seems to give you.

"I'll try. Ain't much used to thinking,"

"Penny for your thoughts, then Mr. Morgan." You reply, carefully moving the pot around so nothing burns. "Might help you clear your mind if you get some of it off your chest."

He's backed himself into a wall. Goddamn him and his big mouth. He hesitates, taking it off this time. Fidgety.

"Yanno, there ain't a lot women like you. Not that I've met at least."

You give him a look. Your lips pressed into a flat line, unimpressed by him.

"Is that so?"

He laughs to himself. "It is indeed. You're a real piece of work. 'Specially going around batting your lashes, making yourself out to be a housewife."

"Aw what, did you like seeing me all doe eyed?" You smile to yourself, teasing but not entirely insincere. "If it helps, since you're the fake husband, I'm only half-acting."

That makes him grin. Though you say it with confidence, the sincerity it makes you flush.

"It ain't that," Arthur says again, looking at your face for the second time in a few minutes. "Just that you're a fine woman to be around. What do they call it...resourceful. That's what I'm thinking of."

"Who taught you such a big word, Morgan?"

"Trelawny, I'd guess."

You laugh, loud and beautiful and Arthur smiles. You look at him from across the fire. "Well, I'm glad you like my company, Mr. Morgan."

"I do more than like it," He hums, offering a reprieve. He nods at you carefully, head tilted. "Come 'ere,"

Your eyes widen at him, but you don't deny him of what he's asking. For that he is awfully grateful. You're more than capable and much less than needy. There's victory in your deliberate desire for him, Arthur thinks. You want him enough to let him chase you.

You come sit by Arthur. You're a little awkward with him still but he don't mind. It adds to whatever he feels for you, sugar-sweet affection and all. You sit on your knees and Arthur turns his head looking at you.

Beautiful. Beautiful thing you are, really. He has a hard time finding the words to tell you.

He reaches up, hand cupping your face. You lean into the touch, palm resting on calloused hand. He adores you.

"And quit with the Mister Morgan nonsense. Drives me crazy."

"Arthur," You say, slow and deliberate. "You know you're looking at me like you wanna eat me."

'"Read my mind, then."

"Arthur," You repeat, scandalized. He would smile if he wasn't so serious. "We're supposed to be eatin' dinner. You got into a whole spat with them Leymone Riders just today. You need to recover,"

His smile widens.

"Lettin' me go down on ya will heal me just fine,"

You look at him exasperated. Arthur leans into your neck, placing chaste kisses down the line of your jaw. He kisses you just there - underneath your earlobe, knows it drives you crazy.

"Lay down, sugar. Help a poor, injured man heal."

You pull away from him with faux exasperation, fond smiling breaking your face.

"You can be such a dog some times, do you know that?"

"I'm afraid I do,"

You give him another unimpressed look, but you listen anyways. Arthur moves so you can lay down on the bedroll - his bedroll. He takes off his coat just before you lay your head, playing it underneath you to get you more comfortable.

"Dinner's gonna burn," You tell him, almost reflexively. He laughs as he looks at you, your hands folded over your stomach and flat. He laughs at you.

"Burn? You feeling warm?"

"Arthur!"

And he laughs again, catching your boot in his hand as you go to kick his chest lightly. He sets it back down as he stares at you. You're quite the sight. Adoration bubbles up into his throat, blooms out into a hum. The sound of crickets and owls and all sorts of night wanderers sound - but none are distracting enough to pry his gaze away.

"You're looking too much," You say, your voice a half tremble. He nods.

"Got too," Arthur hums, leaning forward into your space. You always smell good to him, some cross between soft earth, and sweet liquor and clothes left in the sun. Skin and salt and sweet. "Who knows how long I'll be around."

He presses his lips to yours gentle and you kiss him - but only once before pulling away. Your eyes suddenly serious, warm palm on his cheek.

"Don't say something so morbid. If you go, I go,"

"Sweetheart—"

"No buts." You affirm, pressing your thumb to his lip all serious. Your eyes meet and for a moment - just one minute, all he wants to do is stop time from moving. From stealing him from you in life at all. Even a few seconds, intolerable. "Don't feel to good to hear, does it? So don't say it."

"Alright, alright," He huffs, laughing against your neck. He kisses it again, right against your pulse - quickening under his teeth as he bites and scrapes. He mulls over how much he wants you, and how little time there is to do everything. "Jus' lemme...I dunno."

Now you're cheeky, smiling up at him. Lord above, you do something so terrible to him. "Now that's just not true, baby."

He laughs deep and raspy. It's not true, because he knows exactly what he's after.

Arthur lets his hands plane over your clothed body. He doesn't bother with the ritual of undressing you entirely - since the act doesn't deserve the intimacy. You do, maybe - but Arthur's head feels too foggy to do anything civilized. He has to settle for letting his hands grip the fabric of your skirt and push it until it bunches around your waist.

There's no real delicacy in it, save for the way your breath hitches as Arthur gives himself better access. He moves to lay on his stomach between your thighs. He wishes it were brighter to give him better view. He's seen it plenty but looking at your pretty pussy alone gets him harder than steel.

His hands go underneath every layer of fabric to undo the little tie of your undergarments. You squirm when Arthur takes them off, but you don't pull away.

It's pretty. Even with the dim light of just the moon and fire to let Arthur see it. What entices him mostly though is the scent, after a long day of riding out alone - there's something about the way you smell - sweat and all that makes the back of his mouth ache with want. Makes his teeth hurt just dreaming about it.

He doesn't let his animalistic urges take him yet. He knows you need the build up. His hand is soft as he grips onto your waist. He pulls your legs further apart and lets his lips brush the inside of your thigh. Starts at your knee and works his way up, his mouth burning hot - open kisses. You giggle at the sensation of his beard, but it's tamped down with lust Arthur knows like the back of his hand.

Slow, deliberate, sinful. He knows the way you liked to be touched so exactly, but the pace is set more by his desperation. It grows ten sizes listening to you sigh and huff, feeling your hands come down to touch his hair and play with it.

"Arthur," Your voice calls. Pleading. Wanting him. You're so good at making Arthur loose his composure with so little. It's hard to tease you as your voice clips off into a whine. "Arthur,"

"I've got you," He says, assured. He means it as much as he means anything he's ever said. He ain't a decent man, but this much he can say full ways. "I've got you, sugar. Ease up. Let me take care of you,"

And so you again, breathless - boneless and eager. You let Arthur into your space, and something about that. Something about you. His heart races, blood pumping through his body. It pulses in his ears, head swimming with nothing but praise for you.

You're a fine woman. You're a good girl. The best he knows.

Arthur can feel the way your clit pulses with want before he ever puts his mouth on you. Makes him chuckle, gloved hand resting on your navel. He uses his thumb to pull it back, before using both hands to spread you open. Then, in an act less then gentlemanly, spits on it hard. He watches it land, lewd as it drips between your fold. He laughs to himself.

Another pitchy call of his name and Arthur decides he's had enough fun to get him through the evening.

He kisses your clit first, thinks it's only gentlemanly. When your hips buck up trying to chase the feeling of his mouth - he laughs. His hands dig into your hips. You're soft, skin dimpling from just how tight he holds onto you.

When he finally gets what he wants, his own body lurches forward from want. He nearly slumps into the ground - half-way between relieved and utterly addicted. It's a sense of euphoria unmatched by the finest liquor or cigars money can be.

The taste of you fills his mouth as Arthur eats.

Arthur is not used to playing predator. Not interested in the act of devouring. You often compare him to some sort of herbivore. But there's something too hungry, too visceral, too primal for him to be anything but a coyote. A teethed thing, all screwed up from hunger.

He lets his tongue slip against the seam of your cunt, all the arousal collecting in his mouth. His senses flood with something heady, sweet but bitter and he groans shamelessly as a result. Spoiled by the taste and utterly debauched.

"Oh, god - Arthur, you're—"

Arthur is pleased by the way your words are cut off by your own moan. He slides his tongue back up, wet muscle firm as it lays flat against your clit. There's a slight twitch like it's asking for more attention.

Arthur is all to eager vtoo provide, closing his lips around the twitching bundle of nerves. He knows what you like. Learned over time just the amount of pressure he needs to suck with and the speed he needs to draw his tongue over your clit to get you right at the very edge of your orgasm.

He teases you to that pace. Slow increases in either or, until it's just at that perfect medium. Once he hits that spot, you always moan so pretty.

You shudder, your body lurching up as your hands get tighter in his hair. "Aah, fuck. Ngh, Arthur. Don't do this t'me."

You begging him not too makes him want to do it more. If Arthur were any less aroused, he would. But his brain can barely think up enough to stamina to do that. His own cock is strained against his work pants - hips instinctively rutting into the bedroll just beneath him. Silently seeking friction all while hoping he doesn't get enough to distract him.

It'd be a damn shame, he thinks - letting anything pull him from the taste of your pussy. From the smell of it, from the sight of it, from the feeling of you. Sticky, pulsing strings of arousal coating his tongue and turning all his thoughts to dust.

His cock throbs again as you rut against his mouth. Arthur pins you in place.

"Please," You say. A magic word he ain't much stronger than. "Please make me cum,"

You really are a good girl, the way you know exactly what makes him tick. Arthur moans into your cunt as he sucks and licks and eats. He'd die over it, and he does not mean it lightly. It's the only thing in the world he wants to do in the moment. He laser focuses on finding that sweet spot again.

And he knows he does when you start whimpering. Squirming and holding onto his soft brown locks and pleading for something you don't know about. He can feel how wet your getting - dripping along down his beard and face. Thick strings of your arousal stick and slide down his neck.

He's never been a messy eater, but you've been disproving many of his prior understandings of himself. He supposes it's only natural.

"Oh, baby," You say, not even his name. Arthur knows it's a warning that you're gonna cum. All he can do is encourage you. He hums into your soft, wet cunt and you groan again. "Fuck, Arthur. I'm gonna cum."

Arthur knows better. He doesn't do a thing but keep going. Lets you move and thrash and pull away but keeps you firm in his place and eats your pussy until you can barely think.

He knows the knot is untying before you do because of how much you squirm. When you cum, you cum hard. Your back arches up into a picture perfect curve, toes curling and hands tugging at his roots for purchase.

He can feel every pulse of desire as you finally do let go. You cry out, loud enough to startle any nearby critters. Your fingers grip tight at the base of his hair as the orgasm washes over you. It's just as magnetic as it was the first time.

He's sure that will always be true.

When Arthur pulls away from your pulsing, wet core - he can feel just how much of his lower face is sticky. He's sure you also know, if the way you laugh is anything to go by.

And he's not long to follow after. Not even a few seconds and he can feel something in pants tighten - a mess of white staining the front of the denim in an onset of lust damn near shameful. Is he a teenager again? Lord above.

Breathlessly, you look down at him after you've ridden your high out.

Pulling up Arthur by the collar, you look at him slowly and frown. You look impassioned and a little frustrated.

You kiss him tender after you've come too. Once, then twice, then a another time with your hand still drawn into a fist. Arthur grabs it closed, opening your palms before kissing the palm of your hands until you're no longer mad.

"Hate how good you are at that," You admit, a little drunk of the euphoria of all of it. "Make me feel so crazy."

Arthur beams at you unapologetic.

"It's good to be that with me, sweetheart." Arthur says, kissing the corner of your mouth. "Now how about you go and give me one more?"

You laugh breathlessly but don't go to stop him at all.

"Insatiable man."

"Only for you, my girl."

.𖥔 ݁ ˖˚☽˚｡⋆

#arthur morgan x reader #rdr2 x reader #arthur morgan smut #rdr2 smut #rogues love letters #zero.arthur #this is OUTRAGEOUS. I WAS WARMING UP???#i need to sleep its nearly 8. jesus christ.

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zepskies · 4 months

Note

Hey could I request angsty and fluffy headcanons for Dean having a crush on reader but he thinks she has a crush on Sam but she actually has a crush on Dean back

Hey lovely!

So I kiiiind of already did this type of prompt with "Dean gives you an impossible choice" and its sequel, "Choosing Him."

But I'll do another imagine in this vein for you! ❤️

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Reader Word Count: 1,000 Tags/Warnings: Fluff, angst(ish), fear of unrequited love, mutual pining

Imagine: Dean reads you wrong.

When Dean falls for someone, it's "slow and steady wins the race."

But the spark. That spark is instant.

He feels it with you.

Your pretty smile. Your "get it done" attitude that mirrors his. The way you know all of his references, whether it's movies or TV or music — you grew up learning how to tell time from what was on TV, just like him.

It's the way you laugh with him, share quiet moments of contemplation with him, and even moments of grief with him. Even when it's his grief, you always come. Whether it's to sit beside him, or share a drink with him, or make him something you know he likes, or get him to take a drive with you.

But realistically, you have more in common with Sam.

Both of you are bookish (nerds). You two get into heated discussions about Dante's Inferno and proper Latin translations. (You always accuse Sam of his pronunciations being off, while Sam argues, "At least I remember the whole exorcism. You think the damn demon cares if my vowels are off?")

You and Sam bicker. You playfully tease him, bring smiles to his face just as often as you bring them to Dean's. You're comfortable with him, playfully jabbing his arm or his chest when you mess with him.

Sam takes it with a smile, or a slight roll of his eyes, but always with fondness.

Dean can't help the churning in his stomach. Every time he thinks he has a read on you. Every time he thinks it's safe to maybe, one day, after a hunt, after an episode of Dr. Sexy, after you get out of the shower, after he's made you a home-cooked meal, after you sit with him and talk about everything and nothing while he works on his car — he thinks he might have a shot if he asked you out.

But he always falters, because he just can't fucking tell. He thinks you and Sam have something.

And Dean...he likes you. A lot.

More than he's ever willingly expressed.

But despite his reputation with women, he's never, and will never, step on his brother's toes.

Until he can't help himself.

It's your birthday. Sam got you a series of books he recommended to you last month. (Again, fucking nerds.) Dean got the booze and made the food to celebrate.

But you're surprised, and even a little teary when he brings out the cake he bought at an honest-to-God bakery. He even stood in line, waited 30 minutes to have them write your name on it, with little balloons. The frosting letters are drawn in your favorite color.

"Happy Birthday, sweetheart," Dean tells you. His tone is a little too soft. It's because he sees your unshed tears, and his heart clenches.

It's just a fucking cake.

Does it really matter that much to you?

But he still feels a well of warmth and pride in his chest. He turns to his brother with a smirk. "I win."

It's meant to be playful, but he kind of means it. Sam just eyes him knowingly.

"Sure," Sam laughs.

What the hell does that mean? Dean nearly frowns. But he's soon distracted — by you leaning in close to kiss him on the cheek.

He turns just in time (with slightly wider eyes) to see you blush.

That smile tells him something.

"Thanks, guys," you say to both of them. But your hand lingers on Dean's wrist, squeezing a bit.

At the end of the night, Sam turns in early. You stick around to help Dean clean up.

"Aw, stop. You're the birthday girl. I got this," Dean says, waving you off. You join him at the kitchen counter and lay a hand on his arm.

"Dean," you say softly. It earns his attention. You look a little nervous, your eyes falling from his, then meeting them again.

"What's the matter?" he asks. His brows furrow. He's thinking of your lips on his cheek. Unconsciously he glances down at your pretty mouth.

"Was wondering if you could help me with a birthday wish," you said.

A smile begins to tug at your lips, and Dean can't help but smile back. Intrigue, and a small tremor of something triggers up his spine.

"Oh yeah? What's that?" he asks.

You bite your lip. "Okay...I'm going to ask you this once. Yes or no. And if it's no...then we won't talk about it ever again and you'll have to wipe it out of your memory, because I don't want to make things weird or make you uncomfortable and I don't want to have to do something drastic, like leave the Bunker—"

Dean's smile falls as his brows raise in slight alarm. He also raises placating hands to stop your verbal flapping.

"Whoa, hey. What? What the hell kinda birthday question is this?"

You close your eyes and take a breath. "Okay."

Your eyes open, and as what happens far too often, Dean's captured by them.

"Close your eyes for me," you request.

"My eyes need to be closed to answer a damn question?"

"Damn it, Dean. Just do it, please!"

He lets out a slightly peeved breath, but he obliges you, shutting his lids. He really doesn't know what the hell is going on...until you lay a bracing hand on his chest and press a soft kiss to his lips.

For a moment, he freezes.

He inhales deeply through his nose as the surprise fades.

Relief floods in its wake.

A smile reaches his face.

But soon enough, before you can pull away, he grasps your upper arms to hold you in place. He dips his head down to kiss you in earnest. His lips find yours, gentle at first, and then gaining in passion.

He learns quickly the pattern of your lips, and the heady feeling of that knowing travels straight to his brain, stronger than the whiskey he drank earlier.

It's like you two were made to move together. To end up just like this.

You both are breathless by the time your eyes slide open and meet one another.

Dean's lips curve into a smirk. "How's that answer for ya?"

Your smile is beaming bright.

"Yeah, that works."

Chuckling, he pulls you in closer and tugs a strand of hair behind your ear, his thumb brushing your blush-warmed cheek.

And he answers you again.

AN: Ugh, I'm sappy as hell. 😂 Hope you liked this! Let me know what you think. 😉

Read Sam’s version: “Sam reads you wrong.”

Dean Winchester Imagines

Dean Winchester Masterlist

Main Masterlist

Ko-Fi Me ☕

Dean W. Tag List:

@hobby27 @kazsrm67 @letheatheodore @agothwithheavysetmakeup @foxyjwls007 @wincastifer @iamsapphine @simpforbuckyb @vanillawhiskeyflavoredkisses @roseblue373 @this-is-me19 @emily-winchester @spnexploration @deans-spinster-witch @deans-baby-momma @iprobablyshipit91

@melancholictearz @nic-kolas @sanscas @sleepyqueerenergy @wayward-lost-and-never-found @thewritersaddictions @just-levyy @samanddeaninatrenchcoat @deanwanddamons @antisocialcorrupt @lacilou @adoringanakin @theonlymaninthesky @teehxk @midnightmadwoman @brianochka @branj19

@agalliasi @venicesem @chriszgirl92 @lyarr24 @ladysparkles78 @solariklees @xsophianicolex @deansbbyx @candy-coated-misery0731 @curlycarley @sarahgracej @bagpussjocken @deanfreakingwinchester @chernayawidow @beskarfilms @mimaria420

#Dean reads you wrong #dean winchester imagine #dean winchester x reader #dean winchester x you #dean winchester x female reader #reader requests #ask me stuff #dean winchester #sam winchester #dean winchester fic #spn #supernatural #zepskies answers

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justauthoring · 11 months

Text

Running, Freedom, Salvation (Alternate Ending)

Prompt: “Run, run, run. That’s all we ever do. All we’ve ever done.” You paused, feeling the wind brush through your hair. Taking a deep breath, you steadied yourself and met his eyes. “Do you think it’ll finally stop?”

Maze Runner: one - two - three - four - five - six - seven - eight

Scorch Trials: one - two - three - four - five - six

Death Cure: one - two - three - four - five

A/N: I honestly cannot believe i'm adding another part to RFS... but i'm finally giving people the ending they deserve lol. I honestly had so much fun writing this and I just... ahhh I wish we could go back to when I first wrote this series.

Please don’t plagiarize my work - I spend a lot of my time writing, copying and pasting destroys that. If you want to repost my work. please ask first - but even then I might say no.

Pairing: Newt x Reader

Tag List: @blackbrokerosey - @some-fantasy-thoughts - @ilovemymoose - @alienadvocate - @itsfangirlmendes - @thatproffessionalfangirl - @nightingalethewriter - @143amberrose - @joycewrites - @floweryukheii - @hey-margot - @hippieballs - @wearegoldeninthenight - @betcoop - @crystalshines2909 - @darthweasley7 - @desired-love- - @honeymoonavenue - @legit-fandom-trash - @musicandbeat - @thespeedofwind - @sellinxhs - @sumlariss - @togetherlikepeanutbutterandjelly - @sarcasmdunbar - @strangerthingsluv - @mythicalamphitrite - @thisishowieroll - @independentgirl - @heathernsweets - @illumminated - @highly-uncomfortable-titles - @ktminn01 - @awkwardlyarts - @j-marvel-memester - @mdgrdians - @writingandhotcocoa - @shootingstarsaretearsofheaven - @verkyun - @luvelyxp - @minninugget

You don't think you've ever ran so fast.

The burn in your lungs was a familiar sensation, one you hadn't felt since you'd left the maze -- and that sense of fear? The one coursing through your veins, striking your heart and making it hard to think straight, eyes blurring with unshed tears... It was unlike anything you'd ever felt.

Please. Please make it in time.

You had... You had to make it in time. If you didn't, you didn't know what you'd do. The mere thought of losing Newt was enough to make your heart feel like it was ripping apart. He was your whole world, and you'd never once doubted that fact.

There was no time to think. No time to look back. The clock was ticking towards his inevitable death, and you refused to let the time run out.

You're gripping the serum so tightly in your hands that you're surprised it doesn't crack from the sheer pressure. But you were afraid of letting it go, of dropping it, of breaking it and every little chance of saving Newt disappearing within seconds right before your eyes. The serum in your hand was his last hope.

You can't breathe, but you continue to run. And you don't stop. Until you see Newt and Thomas, the both of them and there's a split second of relief, your feet slowing beneath you, before you blink and properly process what's happening in front of you. Newt's crouched over Thomas, a knife in his hands, inching closer and closer to piercing Thomas' chest.

And his name leaves your lips without thought, a deep guttural cry breaking past your lips that sounds so unlike you you barely register it as you screaming for him.

"Newt!"

Thomas looks at you at the sound of your voice, a sense of relief flooding his gaze, before a cry leaves his lips. The one second of him looking away had allowed Newt to gain the advantage, piercing Thomas in the chest and sinking the knife deeper and deeper in his chest.

You move without thinking, breaking out into a run once again as Newt's name leaves your lips in a shrieking cry.

This time, Newt hears you as well, head snapping to the right and eyes falling on you. You don't realize that it isn't Newt staring back at you, and rather the virus taking control of his body and so when he lunges at you, you're completely unprepared. He slams into you, you just barely managing to dodge the knife still held tightly in his hands, swiping across your face before you lose your footing, falling to the ground with a loud thud.

"Y/N!"

It's Thomas calling for you, but can't see him. Newt is on you, pressing on you enough that you can't breathe, unable to catch your breath as he moves to stab you; just like he'd tried to with Thomas.

Your hands come before you in a panic, the serum slipping from your hands and rolling away from you.

"Thomas!" You cry, using all your strength to hold Newt back; "the serum! Thomas, get the serum!"

You can't see him but you distantly hear him call out in response, before your attention is stolen back by Newt. He's too strong for you, you realize with a panic, the knife growing closer and closer, and you don't have the strength to hold him back anymore; your arms are shaking and you can't breathe properly with the weight of him on top of you.

You see a shadow fall behind Newt, hope flooding you, just as your strength gives out and you just manage to shift in time, the knife lodging itself in your upper left arm instead of your chest. A cry leaves your lips in response, pain erupting up your arm, but as you blink, you realize the weight on top of you has lifted.

"Y/N! Y/N, are you okay?"

Thomas is suddenly in front of you. hands flittering from your cheeks to your arm, now profusely bleeding, helping you sit up as your eyes dance around, confused, until they finally settle on Newt beside you, slumped over.

"It's okay, it's okay," Thomas' breathes, pulling your gaze back on him, "I got the serum, look." He holds the empty vile in front of your face, you blinking at the sight of it before falling back on Newt. "You did it, Y/N. You saved him."

Lips parting, you turn to Thomas, feeling the tears in your eyes finally fall as you let out a sob.

"It's okay," Thomas soothes.

Your eyes fall back on Newt once again, eyes flickering across him, slumped over to his side; but you see the soft rise and fall of his body and it's enough to assure you he's okay.

Hot pain erupts from your arm, causing you to hiss, looking down only to see blood bleeding into your shirt, soaking it.

"Here," Thomas calls, moving to rip off a strip of his shirt, wrapping it around your arm, pulling it tight. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to let him go after you like that."

Smiling softly, you turn to meet Thomas' eyes. "It's not your fault, Thomas. I'm sorry it took me so long to get here with the serum. If he'd hurt you..."

Thomas shakes his head; "all that matters is you did, yeah? Newt's okay."

You nod, letting your hand fall over your injured arm. Distantly, you see Thomas glance over his shoulder and you're reminded of Teresa's message. Smiling gently, you set your hand on Thomas' shoulder, pulling his gaze on you as you nod; "go," you assure. "I'll be okay."

"No, Y/N, I'm not gonna--"

"Go."

One more look at you, and then frowning, Thomas nods, moving to stand up. You send him one last smile before he turns, rushing off, and watch his figure disappear, you slowly shift, being careful not to put any pressure on your injured arm. You move until you're right next to Newt, pulling him back and towards you, right into your lap, until his face is staring up at your own.

With only silence surrounding you, you brush back the strands of hair that had fallen into his face, biting your lip.

The tears build up before you can stop them, a slight shake to your shoulders as you stare down at him, his peaceful expression staring back up at your own. The only trace of what had just happened being the sweat and grime stuck to his face, and the light traces of his veins popping over his pale skin.

"Thank God..." you breathe out, unable to stop the shake of your voice as you curl into yourself, letting your head fall on his chest as you sob. "Thank God you're okay..."

Rolling over, your hand instinctively reaches out, expecting to feel the familiar warmth of another body beside you, only to fall on the mildly cold, empty sheet.

Eyes peeling open, you sigh.

Pushing yourself up, you rub at your face, trying to rub the sleep out of your eyes as you let yourself slowly wake up, taking in your surroundings. It's quiet, telling you that it's still early and nobody else is awake.

Eyes falling back on the empty spot next to you, you shake your head.

Except for one.

You move to a stand, relishing in the way the cool sand feels against your bare feet, before you push yourself up. You grab a sweater on your way out, wrapping it around you to protect yourself from the cool morning wind, pushing the flap of your tent open, eyeing both ways, before your gaze falls on a familiar figure off to the side, by the far end of the ocean.

Swallowing thickly, you make your way over, footsteps quiet so as not to wake anyone else up, silently sitting down right next to Newt.

He glances at you briefly, before looking back ahead of himself.

"You weren't in bed this morning."

"Couldn't sleep."

Frowning at his short reply, you bring your knees to your chest, hugging them. "I... I missed you."

Newt glances over at you, finally meeting your gaze, before he sighs; "YN..."

"No, Newt," you argue, shaking your head. "You've been so distant ever since we got here... and you won't tell me why. You wake up early, you go to bed late. You're always busy during the day that I never see you. You... You won't even look at me."

You can't help the way your voice chokes up, the distress of everything building as you bite your lip. "It's like you don't even love me anymore."

Newt starts at that, body straightening as he turns to look at you. His eyes are wide and his lips part, as if to argue, before his gaze flickers past your face, lower, and all the fight leaves his eyes as his shoulders slump.

Your lips part, to say something, most of all to ignore the hurt that burns deep inside of you at his complete dismissal of your words. But he's pushing himself to a stand before you can, avoiding your gaze and refusing to look at you as he walks off, without a single word.

Lips left parted, the hurt bubbles up enough to pull a sob from your lips, chest burning at the fact that he'd just walked away from you like that. Without a word.

It had been on your mind for weeks since you'd all arrived here... the second all of you had made it to the safe haven, Newt had been distant. What had started from just being quiet and avoiding your touches occassionally, had turned into him refusing to talk to you, avoiding you at all costs and all together ignoring you.

You hadn't wanted to believe it, but it really was starting to feel like he'd... just fallen out of love with you.

You sit there for a while, holding yourself as you let yourself cry, listening to your own raggid breathing and the sounds of the ocean waves, before the distinct sound of chatter reached your ears and you realized everyone else was getting up. Getting started with their day.

Sniffling, you hastily wipe at your tears, brushing your fingers along your cheeks and ignoring the heavy weight in your chest as you move to stand.

You promised you'd help Brenda with breakfast this morning, so there was no time for tears.

Brenda can tell there's something wrong but any time she tries to ask you, you just brush her off.

She liked to think the two of you were close, that being the only two girls of your group had helped the both of you bond. And if she asked you, you would of course say the same -- but, she didn't know you like the rest. And if you weren't going to tell her, she figured the next best bet was them.

It wasn't hard for anyone with eyes to tell that you and Newt had been distant, estranged and Brenda had a pretty big suspicion that that was the source of your problems. She'd known enough not to talk to Newt, but the boy had been pretty isolated recently, so it wasn't hard to reach Thomas and Minho alone.

"I need your guys' help."

The two boys glance at each other, before turning back to Brenda. "Yeah?"

"There's something wrong with Newt and Y/N."

Minho's eyes instantly light up in recognition, and his shoulders slump; "you noticed too, huh?"

Thomas, ever so oblivious, blinks; "noticed what?"

Both Brenda and Minho turn to him with deadpanned expressions. "They've been weird with each other. Newt has been distant with all of us, but it's like he's avoiding Y/N. He ignores her whenever she tries to talk to him, and I can tell it's hurting Y/N."

"She barely spoke this morning while we were making breakfast. She also looked like she'd been crying," Brenda explains with a frown. "And she wouldn't tell me what's wrong. But I could've sworn I saw Newt and her at the beach when I woke up this morning."

Thomas frowns; "I didn't see them."

Brenda rolls her eyes; "that's because you were half asleep."

"I'll talk to Newt," Minho offers, frowning. "Neither of you were there, but this is just like after Y/N had her accident in the maze."

Brenda's brows furrow; "the maze?"

Thomas nods; "back in the glade."

"She'd just been promoted to runner," Minho explains, "and we got separated. She said she saw a griever, but it hadn't attacked her, just stared. And then when she moved, it did, knocking her off a high pillar. I'd found her, passed out, with a broken arm and leg. I thought she was dead..." Sighing, Minho shook his head; "when I brought her back to the glade, Newt was a mess. Nobody could calm him down until we knew she was alright and then..."

"And then?"

"And then he just stopped talking to her," Minho shrugs, "he would avoid her, like he was scared of hurting her or--" Pausing, Minho's eyes widen.

Thomas shakes his head; "what?"

"He's afraid of hurting her," Minho repeats, "when he was infected, before he got the serum, Thomas, didn't he hurt Y/N?"

Blinking, Thomas nods; "yeah. He lunged at her before I could stop him, trying to kill her. Then, just as I stabbed him with the serum, he stabbed Y/N in the arm. She still has the scar." Then, pausing, Thomas adds; "but it's not like he did it on purpose. It was the flare."

"Yeah, but Newt would still feel guilty."

Brenda nods, "that's gotta be it. Minho, Thomas, you talked to Newt, i'll find Y/N. Get him to talk to her, okay?"

They both nod.

"Brenda--"

"Y/N."

Huffing, you roll your eyes; "I promised Aris I'd help him with dinner, I can't just--"

"I'll help him," Brenda cuts you off once again. "You looked tired this morning. You've been working so hard, you deserve a break. Me and the guys decided it."

"No more then everyone else," you sigh, "and besides, Minho and Thomas don't know what they're talking about. I'm pretty sure i've not seen Thomas stop moving all day, so really--" You pause your own rambling as you reach your tent, blinking in confusion as both Thomas and Minho make their way out of said tent. They look briefly panicked at the sight of you, you missing the glare that Brenda sends them, before they offer a smile and a wave, rushing off.

"What were--"

"No worries," Brenda cuts you off, again, "just get some rest, okay?"

With a simple slap to the back, she all but shoves you inside, not giving you any time to argue before she flips the flap of your tent shut behind you. "What the...--" Pausing at the sound of someone else, your head turns, panicked, before falling on; "Newt..."

Thomas and Minho...

It all makes sense then.

"They forced you in here, didn't they?"

Meeting your gaze, Newt nods, but doesn't say anything.

"I'm sorry," you sigh, not sure what else to say. You haven't spoken to him since this morning, and even then it hadn't been much of a conversation. Not to mention, anything before that had been short and brief as well.

You didn't know how to talk to Newt anymore.

"I don't know what they were thinking or Brenda for that--"

"I still love you."

Lips snapping shut, your body tenses at his words.

"I do love you," Newt continues, voice soft. "I'll always love you."

Shoulders falling, you glance at your feet; "then..." and you trail off, but you know Newt knows what you're talking about.

He stands then, crossing the short distance of your tent over to you. Your eyes fall on him as he stands in front of you, oddly feeling nervous, choosing to say silent as he simply reaches forward, taking your hand in his and pulling your arm up. His free hand pushes up the sleeve of your shirt, before his fingers trace across the scar there.

"I hurt you."

Confused, you shake your head; "but you weren't in control... it was the flare, Newt."

"I still hurt you," he argues, "something I promised I'd never do."

"Newt..."

"I can't be around you because I hurt you... I can't forgive myself and... i'm better off de--"

"Don't," you cut in, eyes falling shut as you shake your head. "Don't you dare say that."

"But it's true."

"It's not," you cry, unable to stop the way your voice rises, desperation sinking in. "It will never be true." Reaching forward, you push Newt's hand away from your arm, moving to cup his cheeks. "I thought I was going to lose you, Newt and if I had, I don't think I would've been able to live. You are... everything to me. There is no one I trust more, no one I would rather be with. You are my whole world."

Eyes shining with unshed tears, Newt shakes his head. "Y/N..."

"Please, Newt," you cry, "please..."

Breath shaky, Newt finally allows himself to lean into your touch. "I didn't mean to hurt you...."

"I know," you whisper, "I've never once blamed you."

"I love you so much."

The relief that coarses through you at that is undeniable. Just to hear those words, the words you've been so desperate to hear, is enough to make everything better.

"I love you too," you whisper, glancing up at Newt. "And nothing will ever change that."

"Well, that was a success."

Smiling, Minho nods at Brenda; "a complete success."

"He's getting a little handsy, though, so--"

"Dude," Minho huffs, grabbing Thomas' shoulder and tugging him back before he can go stomping into your tent. "Leave them alone."

"That's my sister--"

"Yeah, yeah."

#the maze runner #maze runner #the maze runner x reader #maze runner x reader #tmr #tmr x reader #tmr imagines #newt #newt x reader #tmr newt x reader #tmr newt #thomas brodie sangster

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ne-nene-ne · 1 year

Text

♡ How to gain the dragon's affection ♡

-> things you can do to make this handsome fae weak in the knees

malleus x reader (fluff!)

Wear or carry the things he's gifted you!

Whether it's a necklace, bracelet, or even a mini gargoyle statue, have it on you! Malleus will beam with pride when he sees it on your person. I feel like he's a bit of a possessive person, so he'd love seeing you dressed in the things that he, himself has chosen and gifted you.

Indulge him in his passion for exploring ruins and his love for gargoyles!

If you show even the tiniest bit of interest in gargoyles or ruin exploring, you will see Malleus' eyes light up immediately and he will begin talking about it for hours. Please allow him to do so. Not many share his passion or are interested in these types of things (if at all), please listen to him ramble on. Heck, join the Gargoyle Studies Club! Give this dude some company because he's pretty much the only member there. 😭 And look, he's aware that not everyone is interested in the same things he is, but if you at least put in the effort to listen and try to understand, he'd be a happy fae

Include him in your activities!

We already know how much of a complex he has towards being invited/uninvited, so if you constantly make it a point to include him in whatever you're doing, he will feel loved. I don't think he'd be picky about what kind of activity you'd be doing. He'd be open-minded to whatever it is. In fact, he'd try to find possible ways to make it easier on you if it's a difficult task. If it's an artsy/creative activity, like painting, there's a chance he'll either be pretty good at it at first try, or he'll end up making a bit of a mess. I also don't think he'd mind much of this either, even if he did end up looking silly. He would laugh it off heartily and probably be like, "How interesting...!" He's curious about your ways and is very much willing to learn. His adoration for you will just increase if you try to teach him

Help him raise his tamagotchi!

He absolutely loves his Roaring Drago and so if you offer to help him "raise" it or offer to watch over it whenever he's busy, he'll fall more in love with you. Not only will he feel closer to you as you both nurture the little creature, he might even begin to see a future with you and your own little ones (if you ever had that in mind) and oh, how he knows how much he'd love that life dearly if it was spent with you.

Share that full-sized cake with him!

This one is oddly specific but as seen in his profile, Malleus dislikes full-sized cakes because he tried eating one entirely by himself 😅 (ofc he wouldn't feel great afterwards). You might be met with a resistant attitude or sour face from him (out of instinct) when you bring out that whole cake, but show him that it isn't as bad as he thinks when he shares it with someone. Maybe he'll like it! And if he doesn't, well then you guys can smear the leftovers on each other's faces and have a bit of fun!

This poor boy has just been left out on a lot. Make him feel welcomed, wanted, and loved and he will adore you forever 🥺❤️

a/n: not really proofread tbh but it was a fun one! I might just turn this into a series and do the same for other twst charas. I'm thinking of Azul or Leona next, hmm

And OKAY so I originally posted this on @lyneira (my brand new writing blog) but my posts on there aren't showing up in the tags yet so I guess I'll still be posting some of my writing here until tumblr allows them to be seen 😭 somebody pls interact with my new blog so that tumblr doesn't think I'm a bot 😔

#twst #twisted wonderland x reader #twisted wonderland #twisted wonderland imagines #malleus draconia #malleus x reader #nene writes~♡

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dre6ming · 26 days

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Kiss it better

Part of “The delicate beginning rush” (click for the whole series) can be read in it’s own

Pairing: Austin Butler x fem reader

Warning: hard language, curses, aggression, mentions of blood, assault

Plot: while visiting Austin on set of the bike rides something not so great happens, that has Austin pull out his protective side

Word count: 1.8k

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A/n: this was a request so if you have some more feel free to send them to me

"Do you know how much I love you?" Austin asks, kissing my cheek, the facial hair he had to grow for the role making me giggle with the way it tickles my soft skin. "I think in might have and idea about it." I say, turning my head slightly and catching his lips in a warm kiss, tasting his breath on my tongue. My heart beats so fast I can almost hear it in my ears, as he adjusts his hand, to hold my lower back better making sure I don't fall off the bike. He's filming for the movie Bike riders and I'm just passing through, visiting for the month, which has been great since we often get to fool around the set in between filming.

"I think I might go to your trailer and get some sleep, I'm kinda tired." I tell him, brushing my hands through his hair, pulling slightly at the root, making him groan. "Ok, want me to walk you?" Austin helps me get off the bike safely. "You think they'll let you keep it after you're done?" I ask referring to his bike, praying for a 'yes' "Probably not." He shakes his head and I pout, truly disappointed. "That's too bad, maybe I'll buy you one for your birthday!" I say absentmindedly, walking my hand over the handle of the bike. Austin chuckles, pulling me in a tight hug. "Ok sugar mama, if that's what you want to waste your pension on." He jokes shrugging his shoulders, making me laugh with my head thrown back. "Well baby, if you behave." His lips catch mine and I sigh into the kiss, biting his bottom lip, smiling when I hear him groan.

"Ok I'm going now, you need to get back to work." I say, patting his chest. Austin opens his mouth to say something, but doesn't get to as he gets called back to set and I giggle at his frustration, going past him. I wink at him and get to walking to his trailer, already dreaming of the soft bed enveloping me whole. On my way, a dude I've never seen before, waves my way, nodding his head at me, a strange grin on. I can't lie, but I usually don't pay mind to such behavior, but somehow this interaction makes shivers climb up my spine and the hair to on the back of my neck to rise.

"Hi gorgeous!" He approaches me and I try to act like I don't see him, taking a few steps to my right hoping he'd get the note and leave me alone. "Hey!" He whistles at me trying to get my attention. "You deaf or somethin girl?" He asks lifer coming my way. "I'm just not interested, ok can you leave me be?" I ask hoping he'll give up. "So what maybe I can change your mind, huh?" He says, coming my way aggressively. I feel my bones shake with fear and I try to move away from him, while trying to remember everything I learned in self defense class, but all that seems to be useless now. "I don't know you ok?" I say, picking up my pace, not running just yet, thinking if I should turn back where I came from.

While I'm in my head sweating my decision, the guy catches my wrist in his hand and pulls me towards him. I wince at the way his grip on my wrist twists my joint and shoots pain up my arm. "Let me go!" I try to rip my arm out of his hold but, he's to strong. "Oh come on baby, just a kiss, maybe I'll grab a boob or two, they look gorgeous" my free hand goes to cover my chest and I look frantically around to see if there's anyone that can help me, but there isn't. Panic is high in me and the smirk the guy has on his face, makes my blood turn to ice in my veins. "Help, someone help me!" I shout as loud as I can, before he slaps me across the face. The hit takes me off balance and in doing so, he brings me flush to him, putting his hand over my mouth and the other around my waist. With my hands free I start to hit him anywhere I can, but he's big so he doesn't even budge. "You cunt! Stop fucking hitting me!" He growls at me, his spit hitting my cheek.

I can't see anything, tears are flowing down my face and I'm struggling to breathe with his hand on my mouth. I can see all the ways this might go and I'm terrified. Suddenly I'm roughly shaken and he lets go of me, so I fall to the ground, my legs numb. "Shh , hey it's fine!" I hear a muffled voice say and I feel hands on my arms trying to grab at me, I scream and push away, closing my eyes, bringing my knees to my chest and crying. I hear a bunch of commotion around me, but I'm scared to move, so I just sit there, formed into a ball.

I feel a set of arms wrap around me and I flinch away. "Shh baby, Y/n it's me, it's Austin." I hear softly and I lunch at him, throwing my arms around his neck, burying my face in the crook of his neck. "I swear to you I want to kill that motherfucker, I hope my fist fucking stays on his face for the rest of his scum bag life." He sounds so angry, but his touch is so warm and comforting. "I I I'm sssorry" I stammer from crying, nuzzling my face in his chest. "Don't you dare apologize. Come on baby, I'll lift you up." Austin says, hooking one arm under my legs and the other on my back. He lifts me up like I weigh nothing, kissing the top of my head.

I hear the door to his trailer open and soon enough I feel the fluffy bed under me. His hands push the hair out of my face and he uses his thumbs to wipe my tears away. "I knew I should've walked with you." He says more, to himself p, giving me a good look over, anger intensifying on his face as he notices my red wrist and probably swollen cheek. "I should go back there and give that guy more punches to take home." I shake my head and take his hands off my face, rubbing his knuckles, frowning when I see the cuts and bruises on his hands. "Aus what did you do?" I ask my voice barely a whisper.

"Some guy from sound said he heard some girl scream for help, my mind when directly to you, I hate that I was right. I ran and when I saw him grabbing at you, I ripped him off of you, got him to the ground and punched as hard as I could, I hope I broke something, maybe his nose" he takes his hands back and goes to the sink to wet a small wash cloth, bringing it over and wiping my face. "I'll change and then we can go back to the apartment ok? They gave me two days off." He says, placing another kiss on my forehead, then quickly undressing, putting the clothes in a bag and getting into his own. It only takes him a minute or two, but it feels like an eternity and I'm so happy, when he gets on the bed and pull me on top of him, arms tight around me. "I'm so sorry honey, are you ok?" Austin asks again

"Yes, I'm fine, just a little shaken up." I say, grimacing when I speak since it hurts from all the screaming. "I think we should go by the medic, your cheek is pretty red and your wrist is bruising" he speaks softly, massaging my back. "I'm fine." I push hoping he'd drop if. "How's your hand, does it hurt?" I ask and push myself off of him, getting up from the bed and going to my bag to pick my balm for cuts and bruises. I take the wet towel and motion him to come sit at the edge of the bed with me. "Give me your hand." But he's stubborn. "I should be taking care of you, I'm fine." He argues, making me roll my eyes. "Aus, your knuckles are bleeding, please!" I plead with him and he finally gives in. While I work on his hands his lips kiss my face over and over again, making my skin feel warm and tingly.

"I think if there's anyone that can kiss it better it's you." I admit, smiling, while I carefully apply cream to his bruised knuckles. He doesn't even flinch but I know they must be hurting. "Are you really ok? Please Y/n tell me, I promise not to go break his neck." Austin's nostrils flare up as his anger flashes back to him, and I sigh. "I'm not fine, I was so scared, I took all those self defense classes and I couldn't do anything." I feel tears in my eyes again and he places a finger under my chin, forcing me to look at him. "Come here, my darling love, I'm sorry you had to go through this, I'm here!" He assures me, pulling me into a breath taking hug.

I breathe in his scent, feeling my muscles relax, the warmth his body provides being exactly what I needed. "Let's go home and get you a warm bath, hm? And then we'll stuff ourselves full of chocolate and ice cream, while watching Twilight!" I giggle at the plans he has made for the night. "I would love that!" I reply truthfully, leaning my head back and pulling him in for a kiss. Austin's lips are warm and soft and sweet, almost too familiar in taste. "Did you use my lip balm?" I ask licking my lips and looking at him, chuckling when he blushes. "Just a bit, maybe, no.." he defends himself, bringing me back for another kiss, one of his hands holding my chin. "Liar!" I say, before his lips crash onto mine. He giggles into the kiss, and his tongue, licks my bottom lip asking for permission, which I give delighted. Austin's tongue explores my mouth and his hands keep me close to his chest, so close I can feel his heart pounding. "I love you!" I say between shallow breaths. "You're my everything!" He admits looking into my eyes and I melt into the blue of his irises.

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#austin butler #austin butler x reader #austin butler fic #the delicate beginning rush #austin butler fanfiction #austin #austin butler fans #austin butler love #austin butler instagram #austin butler imagine #austin butler fanfic #austin fanfic #austin butler fandom #austin butler x actress reader #austin butler x fem!reader #Austin butlers bike #Austin butler bike

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lovsalvatore · 1 year

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Your name on the list

Natasha Romanoff x Fem!reader

Summary: After missing a few notes during rehearsals, you have to prove once again to your Maestro that you still deserve a chance.

Warnings: +18, Minors DNI!, smut, nat has a penis, loss of virginity, groping, overstimulation, rough sex, pet names, a bit of manipulation, light choking, unprotected sex, praising, abuse of authority, infidelity, age gap.

Word count: 6.2k

a/n: here's part two for all you horny people. also; comment if you want to be tagged in the next part <3 ✰ series masterlist, main masterlist

"Okay, stop!" the Maestro's loud voice makes everyone stop playing their instruments immediately. Your hands that were previously on the piano keys just rest on your lap, playing with a loose thread of your blouse. "What's going on today huh? Just because it's Friday and you guys want to enjoy the weekend doesn't mean you have to play like a high school band."

When she says this your eyes go directly to your friend on the other side of the orchestra room, Kate. She widens her eyes, and makes a funny face like she's bored. Even though Natasha's words can be a little harsh at times, everyone here is used to it. Especially Kate. You remember one time Natasha just walked out of the auditorium after making you guys play the same song for hours and hours, saying it was still bad, and all that Bishop said was that at least she didn't say it was terrible, just bad, and that coming from Natasha is like a compliment.

You end up quietly laughing at your friend's action, but then Natasha's body get in the way, stopping a few meters away from you, right in the direction you were looking. All you see for a few seconds is her white shirt, but lifting your gaze you meet her green eyes, feeling her strong judgment in you. Fuck. Your smile disappears instantly. "If you keep playing like this, you don't even have to show up on the day of the big performance." she continues, looking away from you and crossing her arms in front of her body. "An empty stage is better than a whole audience listening to whatever this is that you're playing. Because as much as this symphony was composed by me, the way you guys are playing make it sound like shit, and I don't want people to think I compose shitty music."

She takes a step forward, getting out of the line of sight between you and your friend. You look at each other again, and Kate mouths an 'ouch.', exaggeratedly making an offended expression with her face. You again cannot contain a smile. Bishop always finds the fun in tragic moments, and you love her for it. And you know that if Natasha even saw these kinds of interactions that you two have during rehearsals she would be pissed, not out of jealousy, of course she's not jealous of you, but out of the fact that she hates not being taken seriously.

"In the next rehearsal I don't want any mistakes, especially in the violin part, you're not playing in sync." Natasha takes a deep breath through her nose, turning her face to look in your direction, but you’re more focused on staring blankly at the keys of the instrument in front of you. "But for now... you're dismissed." as soon as she says the words everyone starts to get up, walking towards the stairs to go down from the auditorium stage. You follow your colleagues, going to the first row of seats, which is where everyone usually leaves their belongings.

"Today she's in a bad mood." Kate says as soon as you reach her side. You take a quick look at the person she's referring to, she has her back to you, tying her hair up in her usual bun. You tried not to spend the entire night thinking about what happened between you two. But all you could imagine when you closed your eyes was how her cock felt inside your mouth, and how good it felt. You don't even remember when, but your hand was already inside your pajama pants, imagining it was her. You even tried using two of your fingers to mimic the feeling of what it might be like to have her inside you, but it hurt, all you were able to bear was half of just one finger of yours, so you stopped. You already know that she'll want to do something else today, and you think if it will hurt too. Or if she's going to let it hurt.

"I mean, it's impossible for her to be in a good mood."

You ignore Kate — so oblivious to your thoughts that you don't even know what to say to her — before picking up your backpack, slinging it over your shoulder. Every Friday you guys usually go to the bar at the end of the street after rehearsals, but you remember Natasha asking you to stay today again, and the way her mood is you sure don't want to give her another reason to stay even more grumpy. "I... I'm staying a little longer, the Maestro is helping me with some of my compositions." you lie, you don't even compose songs. "But you can go to the bar with the others, I'll meet you there."

"Oh... okay... I'll definitely want to listen to your piece later." she says in an excited tone, closing her violin case. "Just promise not to take too long, the bar is kinda boring without you."

"I promise."

"Okay perfect, and good luck with her." she pats your shoulder twice before walking past you, and you just stand there waiting for everyone to leave the orchestra room. When silence sets in, you realize that you are finally alone with Natasha again. She remains onstage as you grip the strap of your backpack so hard it looks like you want to tear the poor thing apart. You think if you look good, if the outfit you chose today caught her attention, if all the strands of your hair are in place. You’re nervous.

Natasha stares at you for a few seconds, actually, she couldn't take her eyes off you the entire time you were playing the piano, which isn't all that unusual, but this time she knew that at the end of the day she would have you, and that she wouldn't come home just to have to relieve herself alone thinking about you. But she didn't have a good day, you could tell from the way she was harsh with her words throughout rehearsal. Not that she isn't like that naturally, but today she put a lot of work into the insults. So all she wants now is to have something to make this day better. And you are the best option she has to solve this problem.

Her steps get louder as she steps down from the stage to approach you, who still has your back to her when you feel her presence so close to you. "Why don't you drop this, you're not leaving." she says referring to your backpack, and you immediately do as she asks, dropping it on the floor. Natasha smiles, seeing that she doesn't need to ask you twice for you to obey her. "Don't think you're an exception Y/N, you also disappointed me today."

You swallow hard, feeling her smooth the strands of your hair to the side to be able to kiss the curve of your neck. You close your eyes, her breath so close to your ear that you pay no attention to any other sounds in your surroundings. "You're gonna have to work really hard if you still want to be my first choice for the world tour, because with all the mistakes you made today..." she sucks your pulse point after saying this, making sure to leave a mark for everyone to see. "...maybe you don't really deserve this opportunity after all, hm?"

You haven't missed a single note, since you've been playing for her you've never made that mistake. You play the piano since you were six years old, so hitting the wrong key is something very unusual for you. But when you hear her saying that you made a mistake, you end up believing, it's her song, not yours. And Natasha knows it, she knows you played the song perfectly. But she needs a something to make you give her what she wants, even though deep down she knows you'd give in for no particular reason. "I-I... I know I deserve it." you say in a weak voice. "I can prove to you that I'm the best option, I know I can, Maestro."

"Yeah?" you gasp as her strong hands grope your breasts, pulling your body towards her and making you feel her hard bulge against your ass. You tremble in anticipation knowing that you're going to lose your virginity to her today, and you've kind of been preparing for it all day, so maybe that must have caused you to miss a few notes. Yeah, that would make sense. "I can put your name on the list today, you wouldn't have to wait another day to be part of the world tour... but only if you prove to me that you really are the best choice. Would you like that?" she asks close to your ear, and you nod frantically. "Good."

You feel a cool breeze hitting your body as she suddenly pulls away. As you turn to face her, you see her grabbing your backpack from the floor, slinging it over her shoulder before taking your hand. You look at her confused, but let her lead you to wherever she is leading. The two of you enter the hall of the building that you come to every day to stay hours playing the piano. It's dark, probably all the other employees working here are gone by now. You're known as the late-night musician crowd here, the ones that play for more hours straight too, five hours of class in total. So it wouldn't be surprising if in fact the only ones left here are you and Natasha. "Did your parents complain that you were late yesterday?" she lets go of your hand to get a key from her pocket, and unlocking a door she takes your arm to pull you into the room.

"No, I told 'em I was practicing, and they believed." you answer, hearing the door lock behind you. It's a relatively small room, it has a piano against one of the walls, but unlike the one in the orchestra room — which is a grand piano — this one is an upright one. There's a couch with red upholstery, a few other decorations, and then a desk. You walk towards it, running your finger across the wood material from one end to the other. "Is this your office?"

Natasha drops your backpack on the sofa along with her glasses before walking towards you. "No." she answers, and you again feel her warmth behind you. "I have my own office somewhere else, I just leave my stuff here from time to time." her hands go to your hips, sinking her nose into your neck to smell your perfume. "I spent the whole night thinking about you." you understand that she's not here to talk, she just wants something specific from you. You let her grip your body possessively, her hands squeezing every inch of you like she doesn't want you to leave. It's hot, you think that's even a little weird considering the fact that it's winter, but having her so close to you makes it feel like summer. And you can't deny that feeling her gaze on you throughout rehearsal has you completely needy for her, you already know that your underwear situation isn't the best, and you can't wait for her to finally do something about it.

But then something on the desk draws your attention. A ring. Natasha is a married woman, but she rarely wears her wedding ring. She just puts it on before leaving the house to prove her wife that she wears it, but whenever she gets here for rehearsals she leaves the little accessory in this room. There were times when she forgot, and kept the ring on all day, but rarely did anyone notice. Because as much as she loves her wife, Natasha still hates showing everyone that she belongs to someone, and that thought only started when you entered her life, what a coincidence. You bend your body to pick up the accessory, and when you look at it you can see a date engraved on the inside. It has a name too, but before you can read it Natasha snatches the object out of your hand.

"Sorry." you whisper, expecting her to call you names for taking something that isn't yours, but she doesn't. She doesn't have time for that. Natasha puts the ring on her finger, before turning her attention again to gripping your body. You feel bad for a few moments, knowing she has a wife who don't even imagine the things she does to you. But your mind is immersed in desire when Natasha's hand starts to go down between your breasts, to the button of your pants. She plays with your zipper while planting kisses all over your neck, with that, you find yourself thirsting for her with every passing second. "Nat..."

"Did you hear what I said? That you didn't get out of my head last night?" she unzips, and slowly pulls your pants down to your thighs. You feel your cheeks burn, feeling her play with the hem of your underwear. Are you really prepared for this? You think. But also think of the world tour, and the answer becomes clear. "I had to fuck my wife thinking about you to relieve myself." you bite the inside of your cheek, hearing her say such words makes you wet. You feel bad for her wife, yes, but turned on to know that Natasha thinks so highly of you. She thought about you all night, just like you thought about her. Maybe this could be more than just an exchange of favors, no?

With one hand, Natasha spreads your legs apart. You have both of your hands resting against the desk, as her hand starts to move up your inner thigh. "You're always so quiet." she chuckles when her hand reaches between your legs, your body squirms, pressing her fingertips against your underwear Natasha can feel how wet you are for her. This just makes her harder. "Is it because you've never done this before? Is that why you don't know what to say sweet girl?"

"Uhum." you hum, closing your eyes when she presses on your clit. "I just... I just need..."

"What?" in one swift motion she pulls your underwear down, and you end up moaning as her hand goes straight to your slit. You spread your legs a few more inches apart when she starts to move back and forth over your folds, looking down Natasha groans at the sight of your cheeks so close to her covered cock. "What do you need?" she continues to spread your wetness all over your pussy while her other hand grabs one of your breasts, making you close your eyes at the aggressiveness she does. "Do you wanna tell your Maestro what you need from her, hm?"

You want to talk to her, you really do. But it's the first time anyone's touched you like this, and you can do anything but form a complete sentence. You didn't think she'd be this quick, you really thought you'd at least talk before she had all of you, but feeling her fingers slip through your slits makes you not mind too much about that. You just need her, you're practically begging her to finally ruin you. "I really need you to say it so I can keep going." she murmurs, opening your folds with her fingers before teasing your entrance. "Do you want me to stretch your tight little pussy? Want me to be your first?" she ends up sliding just the tip of her finger inside you, and since you tried to do the same last night, the sensation is not so strange for you, but even so, because she’s the one doing it, it makes you feel different type of feelings.

You manage to nod your head at her question, gripping the edge of the table tightly as she switches from teasing your entrance to playing with your clit. You smile trapping your bottom lip between your teeth, trying to follow her movement into your sex with your hips. "I need words baby, please."

"Y-yes, fuck I need you, p-please."

The Maestro smiles, her heart beating wildly inside her chest. She pulls down her own pants and boxers, her hard cock as it springs out brushes lightly against your cheeks. Your hands that were once on the edge of the desk are now both pressed against your low back as Natasha takes your wrists, and with her other hand she forces your body into the desk, causing you to whine in pain when your cheek is pressed against the icy wood material, your breasts practically smashed against the table. You close your eyes for a few seconds at her subtle movement, and think about how easily she can position you however she wants. She's much stronger than you. And she wasn't really planning on ending up being this aggressive, but sometimes she can't help herself.

"Fuck... you're so wet." she says as she pulls back a little just to get a good view of your sex, her hand still holding yours against your lower back. "Who knew you got so turned on in the presence of your Maestro huh? What would your parents think of that? I don't think they would be so proud to hear that you lie to them by telling you're practicing when in reality you're letting yourself be fucked by your conductor."

You turn your head away to hide the embarrassment you feel, but pressing your forehead against the table is even more uncomfortable, so you end up turning your face away again, resting your cheek on the furniture. Natasha uses her free hand to rub her cock against your slits, groaning at the sight of your wetness mixing with her pre-cum. "Natasha... I..." you whisper, remembering that this can hurt. Even though you're so turned on, so wet that you might not feel a thing, you're still tinged with fear, and the red-haired woman can see it too. "I don't know if-."

"Shhh." she silences you, letting go of your wrists to brush the strands of hair that fall over your face. "It's okay, no need to be scared, it will feel good, I promise." you find comfort in her words, and that makes some of the fear go away, even though you know she's not that honest sometimes. The older woman even thinks of getting the lub she brought, but seeing how wet you are she thinks that won't be necessary. A gasp escapes her lips as she continues to rub her cock into your slit, and feeling the heat of your sex only make her more painfully aroused. “Stay still detka.”

You close your eyes tightly as you feel her tip slowly stretching your hole, and you realize it's very different from when you tried to use your fingers. She stays still for a while, and you think it's not that bad, at least not until she starts sliding even more inside you. You grunt in pain when half of her cock enters you, and even though you are wet, it still burns a little, trying to get used to this new sensation. "Fuck, you're so tight." Natasha breathes out the words, moving her hips back and making your pussy clenches around nothing. "Is this okay? Can I keep going?”

"U-uhm y-yes." you open your eyes again when she pulls your head by holding your hair, lifting it slightly but your body still pressed against the table.

"Good... This might hurt a little. Tap my thigh if you want me to stop."

You don't understand why you would have to tap her thigh when you can use your words, but feeling her hand pressing over your mouth you understand why. She uses her hand to stifle the scream that rips from your throat as she thrusts her cock all at once inside your pussy, and it hurts, it hurts like hell, but even so, your hand remains still, making no move to tap her thigh. Your entire body protests Natasha's gross invasion, but you remember she said this will feel good, and that's what you want to believe in. She pulls out, leaving only the tip inside you, before moving her hips forward in a blunt act, causing the table to swell slightly beneath you. "F-fuck." you mumble against her palm, every inch of her stretching your walls, feeling like at any moment she's going to destroy you from the inside by the thickness and length of her. She is indeed really big, you don't know what was on your mind when you thought this would be easy to take.

"Fuck baby, you're so tight, how am I supposed to move inside you hm?" Natasha's fingers continue to wrap around your hair as she presses your face back against the table, while her other hand grabs your hips to keep you still. She starts to fuck you slowly but hard at the same time. Her every thrust is aggressive, some things on the table even move with every move she makes against you. You palm your hands to the side of your body as that aching feeling inside you starts to turn into a feeling you didn't know would feel so good until now. "Do you think you can take more? Want me to fuck you hard?"

You clench around her dick at the thought of her fucking you harder than she already is, and the sensation this causes around Natasha's length makes her moan in pleasure. "Oh that's it... clench around my cock, fuck you're so hot." she sinks her nails into your hips, pulling you closer to her. "Do you want me to continue? Want me to fuck you mercilessly?"

"P-please." you beg, even deep down you want her to take it easy at first, moving your hips back when she stops suddenly with her movements. "Keep going, feels so good."

"Hm?" you feel her strong hand against your throat, pulling you up and making your body fully erect again. You feel the relief this caused on your cheek, but what holds your attention the most is the way Natasha's cock starts to fuck you from behind. "Like this? Want me to treat you like a slut?" your arms are pulled behind your body while her other hand is still around your throat. Natasha fucks you while preventing you from moving your arms, and at the same time making it difficult for oxygen to rise to your brain. You arch your back, your eyes rolling as you feel her hit against the deepest part of your pussy.

She's rougher with your cunt than she was with your mouth, sinking her thick cock into your tight walls and making you moan over it. It still hurts, you didn't have time to get used to its size completely, but you get wetter with each thrust that gets easier and easier for Natasha to fuck you hard. You feel your pants sliding down your legs with every pound of her, and it's not long before it falls to your ankles. "You wanted this didn't you?" she asks tightening her fingers around your neck even more. "I bet this isn't the first time you've wanted this from me, tell me, did you touch yourself thinking about me too? Did you use those talented hands of yours to imagine I was fucking you?” she wants to hear it from you, she wants to know that she wasn't the only one doing this all these months that you've been her apprentice.

"I-I, yes." you admit it, even though it's not true. Even if you had impure thoughts about your Maestro you've never really touched yourself thinking about her, but if that's what she wants to hear, that's what you'll say. And again, a big mistake you just made. "Fuck. it. hurts." you end up saying it out loud between labored sighs, feeling the tightness in your throat loosen.

"Want me to stop?" you shake your head from side to side quickly, feeling embarrassingly closer to the edge. Natasha slows down her thrusts inside you as she lowers the hand that was previously around your throat to massage your clit. She fucks you slowly, while making circular motions on your bundle of nerves at medium speed. With her light movements you can feel better the way she moves inside you, not just hard thrusts. You feel her cock sliding over your walls, and how her fingers work so well on your clit.

That's much better, slowly and carefully. You throw your head back, not understanding how you can still stand when the way she fucks you makes you feel boneless. "S-so good." you murmur, your arms move a little when you feel her ridge digging deep into the spongy part of you, but natasha holds them tighter, pulling you against her, almost making your back press against her covered breasts. She again feels your perfume invaded her senses, and thinks how she never wants to try anyone's scent but yours.

You didn't imagine that your first time would be in a random room, with a woman much older than you, and whom you admire so much. But now you don't think how it could just be better that already is. It's just wonderful the way her dick enters you carefully, as if this whole time it was meant to be. You wonder if it's normal to feel so ecstatic so quickly, you didn't think that anything other than your hand would be able to pull you over the edge so fast. And you want to hold on longer, trying to prolong her pleasure as well, but it gets hard when all you can feel is her thick cock sliding in and out of you, as your clit begins to grow sensitive to her touches. “You’re doing so good.” she whispers close to your ear, increasing the stimulation on your nerve just a little bit, only to pull you further towards the climax.

She hates that it took you so long to give yourself to her, and even though you're not completely hers yet, she already feels that way. She's wanted this for a long time, and now that she finally has what she wanted, it's going to be hard for her to let go. She rolls her hips over yours, and it's torturous but perfect at the same time.

Natasha has a hard time keeping her movements slow, all she wants is to abuse you until you can't walk the next day. But she also wants to make you feel good, she wants to make your first time worth it. And it's working. You feel the orgasm starting to build, and you know you won't be able to hold it back for long because of the way she makes you feel like you're out of gravity. "I... fuck... I'm so-." you don't even know what to say, you just try to control the moans that insist on coming out of your mouth. "Fuck I think I'm-."

"Come for me pretty girl, come on, I know you're close, come on, I got you."

It doesn't take long for you to reach your peak, and unlike when you're alone, this time feels totally different. You close your eyes tightly when the pleasure is all you can feel in every muscle in your body, Natasha rests her forehead on your back as she feels you squeezing her cock, feeling the wetness that spreads on her hand as she keeps stimulating you. "That's it..." she stops inside you, pressing her finger against your clit and feeling your sensitive area pulsating on her fingertips. Your breathing is uncontrolled when you finally break out of the trance, feeling your body sweating even though she did all the work.

It feels like you're drugged, and you're afraid you'll end up becoming addicted to her. And this was only the first time, you don't know if there will be others, but really hope so. With time she stops completely, waiting for you to get back together. And you thank her for it. It was so good, you want to go again, and again, until you can't take it anymore. You didn't know it would feel this good, you really were afraid that it would just hurt, but even though it did, in the end it was worth it.

You stay that way for a few moments before Natasha slowly pulls out of you, and you suddenly complain about the emptiness. Your legs are shaky as you turn your body to face her, her eyes showing nothing more than desire as they look directly into yours. "You okay?" she asks gently, cupping your face in her hands. You nod, staring at her parted lips. You try to bring your face even closer to kiss her, but the Maestro holds your jaw, preventing you from getting any closer. "No... no kissing."

"Why?"

"Oh detka, we're not trying to fall in love here, are we?" she speaks in a subtle way, even though she knew those weren't the words you wanted to hear. But you end up agreeing with her, it's really not what you're looking for, it's just an exchange of favors. You force that thought into your head, feeling the tip of her cock pressing against your bare sex. You look down, seeing the length of her glistening with your fluids, she imitates your act, this time getting a perfect view at your pussy. Is certainly one of the best views she's ever had. "Gonna keep fucking you okay?" she warns, running her fingers over your slits to make sure you stay wet, You shiver as she runs her finger over your clit before returning to your entrance. She pulls two fingers inside you, wetting them before leading them to her mouth. Natasha hums while feeling your taste on her tongue, and you think it wouldn't be possible for a scene to be this mesmerising, but ends up being anyway. Being completely aware of your arousal she quickly gets back to work.

Natasha groans, lifting one of your legs up to her hip to continue. She hasn't come yet. You weren't expecting it when she pushes her cock back inside you, and unlike how she was doing it a few minutes ago this time she just uses you like a fuck doll. And that's what you are to her, just someone to fuck, not someone to create emotional bonds with. At least that's what she's trying to get herself to believe in.

"You don't know how good it feels to have you squeezing my cock... my god how tight you are." you'll never get tired of hearing her tell you this, it just works the way you feel around her even more. The sounds you two make aren't low by any chance, and you're grateful that there's no one around to know what the two of you are up to behind closed doors. "You're so fucking beautiful, you're perfect."

Your legs feel like jelly, still trying to fully recover from your last orgasm, and noticing your difficulty standing up Natasha holds both your thighs, pulling you to sit on top of the desk, while thrusting her cock even deeper inside you.

She grips your jaw tightly, forcing you to look deep into her eyes as she fucks you. You see the darkness that consumes her, so lost in desire it makes your body convulse. "You're just a tiny little talented slut aren't ya? Look how good you take me all in." her breath hits against your lips, and you try to control yourself so you don't end up realising it again, feeling overstimulated by her every second. "So... so good for me, only for me.”

You rests both your hands on the table, wrapping your legs around Natasha's hips feeling her fuck you quickly and aggressively. Her hands grip tight on your thighs, and she tries to maintain eye contact with you, but she wants to see how she fucks you, she wants to see the scene of her destroying you from the inside. She lowers her sight to focus on the way her cock disappears inside you, how you take her so well even being your first time. "Gonna come so deep inside you." she whispers, feeling closer with her own words. "Gonna fill you up so good baby."

You feel the heat getting more unbearable, as it seems the walls of the room get smaller around you, one of your hands going towards her shoulder for better balance. You expect the table to break at any moment, just like Natasha is doing with your insides. And unlike her, you keep your eyes glued to the expressions on her face; how her eyebrows furrow up, how she tries to keep her moans from being audible. "Oh fuck... fuck... keep taking it... that's it..." you feel her nails digging deep into the skin of your thighs, and you know you're going to be bruised all over, but the thought of it makes your heart warm. "Is this making you feel good? Oh I bet so. Want to tell me how good I make you feel?"

"Y-yes... you make me feel so good." you say in uncontrolled breaths, squeezing her shoulder hard as you feel yet another orgasm slamming against your body like a brick. But still Natasha doesn't stop, even noticing the way your walls tighten around her cock, she still keeps pushing inside you harshly. "Fuuuck... fuck I don't think I can... Nat... p-please-."

"Shhhh, yes you can, I'm almost there, keep taking it." her hands lift your shirt up to your breasts, and she grunts at the sight of them covered by your bra. All she wanted right now was to get that stupid piece of clothing off your body, but being content with what she has she just squeezes them, your breasts fit perfectly into her palms, and she gropes them so hard it seems like your skin burns with her touch.

Your legs fall from her hips, feeling so overstimulated you don't have the strength to keep them wrapped around her. Natasha also finds it difficult to keep pushing inside you because you're so tight, and you try your best to keep taking her. That pain that had passed comes back, making you cry when you realize that you won't be able to hold on. "Please... please!" you beg, squeezing her shoulder and making Natasha hiss from the strength you do it. "Nat please I can't… it hurts.”

"Baby, begging isn't going to get you anywhere... you didn't ask me to stop, so keep quiet hm?" you nod your head realizing that what she says is true, you didn't actually ask her to stop, you just begged, but for nothing in particular. You feel so sensitive, her cock feels so big on you that it really hurts, but also a pain that feels really good. Fuck, it hurts so good you even feel ashamed to admit it. It feels like you're going to pass out, the room grows dark and your breath gets shorter. And the Maestro sees the tears running down your cheeks, and that's the last straw for her. With a few more thrusts you feel her warm fluid being released inside you, painting your inner walls all over. "Yeah... that's it... fuck… you feel so good."

Natasha practically collapses on top of you, resting her head in the crook of your neck as she continues to fill yourself with her cum. She moves her hips slowly to fuck the cum inside you, and you hate to admit that the wet noises of her action are so arousing. She closes her eyes for a few seconds feeling her dick throbbing inside you. "Nat..." you whine as she pulls away, and then taking her cock outside you you can feel the liquid seeping through your slits. You sigh with immediate relief, and only then do you realize your face is wet with your tears. Natasha grabs her shaft, rubbing it in your pussy and watching as her white juice spreads through your folds. She slides the tip back inside to keep every last drop that’s left in you, before going back to rubbing the end of it on your clit. Natasha is mesmerized, and even though she wants to continue she takes a step back.

"You did so good, I'm proud of you." she runs her knuckles over your cheeks, wiping the tears away. You close your eyes in her caress, feeling your pussy throbbing. "You were perfect."

And then the room is back to its normal size, the walls aren't suffocating you anymore, and the heat isn't so unbearable. Natasha picks up your underwear on the floor, and passes them by your feet to help you put them on, and you end up getting up from the table so she can pass the piece of clothing to your thighs. She doesn't say anything as she picks up your pants as well, holding them out to you before running her fingers over the strands of her hair. She's still hard when she tucks her cock into her pants, and as soon as you're fully dressed again you approach her. "I can help you with that..." you say directing your hand to the bulge in her pants, but Natasha shakes her head no.

"No, it's okay sweet girl." you smile when you hear her call you by the nickname, then just nod as she starts walking towards the door. She unlocks it, and holds it open for you to pass. As you move you can feel some of her cum that was still inside you wet your underwear, and then it hits you, you really did it, it doesn't even seem real, and the worst of it is that you liked it more than you should have. After you pick up your backpack on top of the sofa, you two begin a silent path through the corridors. You feel your legs weak, and you fear it will only get worse when you wake up the next day. But as has been said before, it was all worth it. When you're next to her, you see Natasha fiddling with her phone, talking to someone in messages. You also notice the way she squeezes her cock over her pants, the discomfort you left her in still isn't entirely gone. "Are you gonna get an uber or something?" she asks as soon as you step onto the sidewalk outside of the building.

"Uhm... no... I'm gonna go to a bar with my friends at the end of the street."

She just nods, not taking her eyes off her phone screen. You tighten your backpack straps, rocking your body back and forth not knowing if you should just walk away or wait for her to say goodbye first. She types quickly to whoever is talking to her, and you see the way her brows furrow, like she's worried about something. "I uhm... I should go." she says before finally looking up at you, giving you a weak smile. "Are you okay with what happened today?"

"Yes." you answer immediately. "It was... really good."

Indeed it was, you could do it for hours. You didn't know sex could feel this good. Or at least the sex with her definitely was.

"Okay good." she's relieved that she didn't make you do anything you didn't want to, even though she knows the real reason why you actually did it. "And... I'll talk to you next week about what I told you earlier."

"What?" you ask, not really knowing what she's talking about.

"The list... Your name on the list."

Oh, this.

For a moment you even forgot about it, you felt so good in her presence that you didn't even remember that in fact all of this was for other intentions. "Oh yes of course… okay." Natasha stares at you for a few more seconds before walking towards her car, leaving you alone. When she drives away you follow the vehicle with your eyes until it completely disappears from your view. And then you're back to reality. And what a shitty reality.

taglist: @kksalexa @madelineleong @shaniaauld03 @natashafanatic @gayerthanevertbh @wifeofnatasharomanoff

#natasha romanoff x fem reader #natasha #natasha romanoff #smut #wlw smut #natasha romanoff fanfic #natasha romanoff x reader #black widow #black widow x reader #wlw #marvel #my pianist series #natasha romanoff x you

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littledata · 1 month

Note

what are these "best fics youve ever read that barely have any hits" you mentioned? can you give us a top 5 or sonething?

Oh God, you've really shamed me here because I read a LOT of random fics from fandoms I'm not even part of and the stories I was referring to largely come from there.

However, in the interest of practising what I preach, I sat down today and read a bunch of Warrior Nun fics I'd never read before so I could rec you some. To be totally clear, these aren't necessarily going to have "hardly any hits" but are fics that I think could use more love in general.

In no particular order:

I was seeing black and white (and now I'm living in color) by gayestcatra - 1281 words, a beautifully soft fic set in Switzerland with gorgeous description. By the same author I also enjoyed (your life was) my life's best part, an angsty Mary/Shannon exploring Mary's (heartbreaking) grief after Shannon's death.

Cat’s Cradle security checkpoint logs by @jtl07 - 518 words, have I raved enough on tumblr yet about how much I love their writing? No? Oh okay I'll do it again then. JT is one of my favourite writers in the fandom and I love this series of fics they did giving creative looks into the characters - this particular one is the contents of their bags but the whole series is worth checking out (and everything else they write too, obviously).

Lauds by @sisterdivinium - 3152 words, Mother Superion/Jillian Salvius. WE LOVE A RAREPAIR. Gorgeously written fic where you feel the weight of every single action. The author has a TON of fics if you liked this one too.

you're my best friend (in a world we must defend) by @daisychainsandbowties - 3980 words, avatrice and Pokemon. Beatrice's characterisation in this drives me insane. I MUST know more. If you know nothing about pokemon here's your primer: they're funny little guys you catch and make fight, exactly like the Catholic church did to Ava. There, now you've got no excuse not to read it.

Dead People Don't Shiver by waterintheshadows - 2068 words, avatrice soulmate AU set in a morgue FUCK YEAH. This is the kind of shit I live for. Great concept, great execution.

Where The River Bends by @itchyouchyz - 100,750 words, avatrice 1960s midwife AU. Full disclosure - it's 100k - I haven't finished it yet. But I LOVE what I've read so far, tender and lovely. Check the tags for trigger warnings on this one!

keep me in your mirror (but don't take your eyes off the road) by minutetuna - 26,343 words, avatrice season 2 road trip au. It made me feel this precise emotion: hnnnnnnghhhhh. There is a particular style of writing which is just bouncy and pacy and still draws you into every single emotion and this author has it in spades. LOVE.

This was so much fun! If anyone else wants to hit me up with some recs I'd love to hear them - even if (especially if) they're your fics. It's a long weekend, might as well spend it reading fanfiction.

#warrior nun #avatrice #ava silva #sister beatrice #fic recs #i'm also writing fanfiction update is coming i swear #not really a good rec list just a list of my opinions #i wrote this post as I was reading and you can see me getting steadily more excited by all the awesome fics as I go #asks

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superhoeva · 4 months

Text

𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐒𝐓𝐔𝐃𝐘: 𝐖𝐄𝐄𝐊 𝐎𝐍𝐄

next chapter | series masterlist | main masterlist

⬩ pairing(s) sexologist!francisco "frankie" morales x college student!female!reader

⬩ warning(s) very inaccurate scientific study methods (this could not happen in real life without someone going to jail, i think lol), language, flirting, sexual tension, scientific talk about genitals, safe sex practices, pcos (mentioned), endometriosis (mentioned), commentary on unbalanced male domination of sexual spaces, Spanish nicknames/pet names, smut smut smut, somewhat-guided masturbation, reader hs nipple pircings, dirty talk, mdom-ish!frankie, pussy drunk!frankie, consent checks, oral sex (f receiving), fingering (f receiving), big hands!frankie, bodily fluids, doctor/patient relations, the whole "we want to but we can't but we might have to anyways" kind of vibes, some aftercare, pov switches (reader's pov uses "dr. morales. frankie's pov uses "frankie.")

⬩ author's note happy new year! starting 2024 off with a bang (literally, ha) of a new series. as mentioned before, this was inspired by an audio series created by anonyfun35 on the erotic audio site quinn (very much recommend the series and entire site if you're looking for more ethical alternatives to regular porn and able to spare a few extra dollars!), which is absolutely heavenly. frankie's been sitting in my heart recently after rewatching triple frontier, and now here we are! here is chapter one, as promised, and i can not wait to share the rest of this series with you all! (p.s. i know some people have asked to be tagged in this, but i no longer do tag lists. for those who want to keep up with new chapter, i'd recommend following the au: the study tag or just check back here regularly! heeds the warnings. let me know if i've forgotten any. drink your water. love you and hope you enjoy. <3

⬩ word count 6.4k(!)

The lobby is suspiciously comfortable for a doctor’s office. As if the chair you’ve been shuffling back and forth in for the past five minutes. You’ve decided to focus on the mint green tint of the walls to steady yourself. Your breath moves in and out of you in quivering streams, and you have to keep running your tongue over the flesh of your bottom lip to stop your teeth from drawing blood.

A sweet-looking brunette types away at the lobby desk, and she sends you a quick smile when you accidentally catch her eye. You hope the grin you send back doesn’t look as pitiful as it felt.

Straight across from you, there’s a poster of a vagina. Vibrant and contrasting nicely with the color of the wall, it labels each part of the genitalia with pretty, curvy letters. You read over each of them, laughing a little when you get to the clitoris. Maybe you should hang a copy of the poster over your headboard. Just to make it a little easier for those who need it.

Your eyes trail left. Another poster, this one with photos of different types of barrier methods for safe sex; on it is everything from internal condoms to dental dams and a short explanation for when it’s best to use them. You study it with a little more intent than the last one and become so engrossed that you don’t hear the receptionist at the desk until her third calling of your name.

You jolt a little, looking over at her with widened eyes.

“Sorry, yes?”

She smiles at the look on your face, shaking her head.

“It’s alright,” she promises, “that stuff’s actually pretty interesting, right? I just wanted to tell you that Dr. Morales is ready to start whenever you are.”

Ignoring the way your heart jumps a little, you rise from your seat with the best grin you can manage.

“Alright,” you nod, gaze flickering down a nearby hallway, “is it–”

“All the way down and to the right. Can’t miss it. And feel free to let me know if you need anything, before or after. I’m here for whatever you need me for.”

There’s something genuine in her voice that lets your shoulders relax. You smile again, and it feels real this time. “I think I’m okay right now, but I appreciate it, I do. Thank you.”

“No worries. Oh, and honey,” she pauses, taking a second to leave her seat and trot over in front of you. “Remember to breathe. Dr. Morales is a sweetheart, I promise. Wouldn’t work here if that wasn’t the case.”

Melanie the tag on her name reads. She gives you one last wink before returning to her desk. A warm feeling fills you nicely as you watch her for a few more seconds.

Melanie is nice. You like Melanie. If you could, you’d stay and talk to her for a while, but no sense in keeping the doctor waiting.

As you head down the hallway, the walk feels like it lasts half a second and a thousand years all at once. Time here seems to work a little differently, but maybe that’s only because of how unbelievably fucking nervous you are.

The room is at the end of the hall on the right. Just like Melanie said. The knock you give the door is softer than you mean for it to be, but it pulls open before you get the chance to knock again.

“Hi, welcome. Come on in, please.”

Well, fuck. Fuck.

The first thing you notice isn’t the fluff of hair on his head, or his big, doe, brown eyes–it’s his voice. A deep, pleasing rasp that’s soft and stirring, all of it combining into a sensation that sits snugly right in the middle of your chest. And legs.

You take a second to swallow the spit in your mouth.

“Hi,” you all but mumble back, swallowing again. God, you hope he doesn’t hear the sharp exhale that leaves your nose when he steps to the side with a smile. Your eyes blow up, big and wide, but only for a second as you swiftly compose yourself. You’re here for a scientific study, damn it, not to gape at how fucking gorgeous Dr. Morales is. Even though he is fucking gorgeous. “You’re Dr. Morales?”

“Yes,” he answers effortlessly, and you bite your tongue when he rattles off your name. His voice. You barely remember to nod, and he smiles. Now that you think about it, he hasn’t stopped smiling since he opened the door, and it’s already building a bit of sweat at the back of your neck. “It’s nice to meet you finally. Been seeing your name on all the paperwork, so it’s nice to put a face to it. Especially a face as nice as yours.”

You swallow, again, and can’t hold back the grin his words bring. “Thank you and uh… likewise.”

Dr. Morales pauses and your heart stops at the way his face drops. Then his eyebrows raise slightly like he’s impressed, and he takes in a long breath himself. A gulp of air finally refills your lungs when his smile returns, more of a smirk now.

“Thank you.”

The two words are followed by a small silence. You take it as a chance to look around. Dr. Morales takes it as a chance to glance you over, and his teeth bite into the side of his mouth at the dress you’re wearing. It’s airy and short, stopping just above the middle of your thigh.

He sniffs, clearing his throat.

“Well, if you want to go ahead and get seated, I think it’s best we just start with some introductions to break some ice. Then a short discussion about the study itself, boundaries, things like that. And I know you answered a lot of those types of questions in your application, but I think more authentic answers can come about when speaking, you know, face-to-face. Plus it’ll give us both the chance to get to know each other a little better. Relax before we get to the actual… activities for today’s session.”

You blink.

“You’re doing the… the stuff?”

Dr. Morales blinks.

“Yes,” he starts slowly, eyebrows furrowing. “I’m sorry, was that not what you were expecting? I-It’s in the forms you signed, though I guess it is pretty easy to glance over if you don’t know where to look. But if that’s not something you’re comfortable with, I completely understand. We also have some female doctors participating in the study if you–”

“–I’m comfortable with you doing it.” God, you know interrupting was rude. But the words spill out of you before you can stop them. “Really, I’m okay with it. Just surprised me a little, considering…”

A hard clenching of your teeth doesn’t work to hold back the small grin that sneaks upon your face at the expression on Dr. Morales’s face. He’s gone from warm to faltering and back to warm again, with a hint of delight just in the past few moments.

“Considering what?”

Dr. Morales squints his eyes as he asks the question. Watching and waiting for your answer with the knuckles of his fingers rubbing across his pink lips. You only let your gaze trail across the action for a short second. Any longer, and you’re sure you’ll melt away.

“Nothing,” you finally breathe with a soft laugh. The muscles in your neck tense and pull as you force your eyes upwards. Back to his eyes. “Sorry, uh… introductions?”

Something in his gaze shifts and he drops his hand.

“Right, right. Uh, feel free to take a seat here while I pull up your file real quick,” Dr. Morales tells you, motioning to the deep red chaise wing chair you didn’t notice until now. You nod, not trusting your voice, and settle into the large chair. It’s even more comfortable than the one in the lobby, and Dr. Morales just barely keeps his smile at how you subconsciously snuggle into the plush.

Other than the blood rushing past your ears, the clacking of his fast typing is the only sound in the room.

Much like the lobby, the room is rather warm for where you are, literally and figuratively. It’s a kind difference from something like the dentist or your normal practitioner. The opposite of the bright, sterile white you’d expected. You can tell the room was put together with the intention of being congenial for whoever steps inside. The velvet couch and nice rug that decorate the space tell you that much.

It seems that Dr. Morales dresses with the same purpose, white coat hanging forgotten on the back of his swivel chair, showing off the taupe button-up that stretches over his impressive set of shoulders. The shirt is tucked into a pair of thick, clean-cut jeans that hug around his waist.

“Alright,” Dr. Morales begins, sliding his chair over a few feet so you can see him a bit better. He smiles as he continues, reading off your name and age, to which you nod and smile back. You make sure the grin is big enough to cover the shiver that runs throughout your body and you don't notice that he didn’t even have to look at the screen when reciting the words.

“Great. Well, as I already told you, I’m Francisco Morales,” he chuckles, “one of the doctors here participating in this study you’ve so kindly agreed to be a part of. We’re really excited about all the knowledge we’re expecting to gain from the study. I, uh, we–we really appreciate you being here.”

“Oh, thank you for the opportunity. I’m also really excited. Never been involved in something like this before, so… yeah. I’m excited.”

Huh. Excited is one of the few words able to come to your mind as you bumble through the sentence. After only a few minutes with the doctor, you’ve found it’s somewhat difficult to form a coherent enough sentence. It’s even harder with him staring at you.

“What made you want to participate, if you don’t mind me asking.”

“Um,” you start without thinking, “part of it was the topic of the study itself, I guess. So many of the things that have to do with sex, at least in my experience, are centered around men and their pleasure and what makes them feel good. So I think it’s refreshing to see something like this.”

“Oh, absolutely. That’s the whole reason for us doing this. I mean, we’ve got gynecologists, hormone specialists, endocrinologists, gender surgeons, and even sex therapists on my team all working together on this.”

“Oh, wow. That’s actually… really impressive,” you breathe out, but Dr. Morales shakes his head.

“It is, but I don’t wanna take all the credit. We’ve got a lot of amazing people working on this thing that’s gonna lead to ways to help women suffering from endometriosis, PCOS, trans women, everyone, really.”

Your eyes soften at the doctor’s words, and you straighten a little.

“Well, now I’m very happy to be here.”

Dr. Morales’s eyes squint with his smile this time. It’s the biggest he’s smiled all week.

“Good. I’m glad. And you’ve already filled out all the financial paperwork? Wanna make sure you get paid for this week’s session as soon as possible.”

“Oh, yeah. That was actually the other reason I signed up. Got some student loan payments coming up, and I could use the extra money.”

Dr. Morales laughs to himself.

“Loan payments are a bitch, aren’t they? Still paying mine off,” He shakes his head. Something about his curse pulls a small chuckle from you.

“Never heard a doctor curse before,” you tell him, and he laughs this time, raising his eyebrows with a shrug.

“Sorry. I’ll try to keep it at bay, but I should warn you… I can have a pretty dirty mouth.”

Whether he knows it or not, Dr. Morales’s voice seems to drop an octave as he speaks. The words are paired with his gaze clouding to something similar to a stirring ardor. It shakes something inside you, rumbling into the depths of your veins, heating you in a way that feels remarkable. In a way that has you clenching and reeling, eyes just barely watering.

He hasn’t even touched you yet, and he’s got you evaporating into a transcendent air of nothing. You brush your hands along the fabric of the skirt of your dress, arms stretching and trying to find some sense of relief. Dr. Morales stares into you, a burning observance of an action that your subconscious therefore controls more than anything. The look is hot and pointed and forces him to take in a long inhale. He squeezes the thin arm of his chair when you finally grant him a soft reply.

“I don’t mind.”

Dr. Morales pauses before letting out a huff. A smirk teases across his lips, and his mouth opens like he’s going to say something. He stops just short of whatever it is, opting to roll his seat a little closer to you while clearing his throat.

His elbows hit the top of his knees, gaze tilting to yours. Unable to hold it, you try to settle for his hands, but that doesn’t seem to calm you at all. You flick your eyes again, this time onto his thighs, but it’s no use.

Damn it.

“Um, so today’s session will revolve around cunnilingus and a some hand stimulation. Uh… sorry. Sorry, I–” Dr. Morales stumbles to a stop and your eyebrows furrow.

“You okay?”

He holds a hand out at the look on your face with a quick nod.

“Yeah, yes, I’m okay. Where was I? Uh… right, so like we talked about a little bit ago, I’ll be the one performing the… stuff, as you called it. And speaking of that, you’re still one hundred percent comfortable with me being to one to do it?”

“Hundred and ten,” you promise with a bobbing of your head that makes him grin again.

“Okay, then,” he nods back, hands rubbing against the denim of his jeans. “Let’s get started.”

.・゜゜・

You’re going to be the death of him.

He had an inkling of it when you greeted him at the door, those eyes all wide as you took everything in. He was confident about it when you assured him that you’d be alright with the fact that he’d be the one ‘doing the stuff.’ He knew when you didn’t mind his dirty mouth. And he was certain when you'd asked if he was alright.

Dead. That’s what you’ll make him by the end of this study, and he’ll go happy. A little embarrassed also, given how he started sputtering through his sentences like he was twenty years younger.

Frankie’s breath catches a little when he returns to the room after washing his hands. You’re just finishing the tie on the robe he’d provided you with, and he doesn’t realize how flimsy it is until now. It maps across your shape damn near perfectly as you hang your dress on the side of the wingchair.

“Hi,” you breathe out, spinning around. Frankie rakes his teeth over his bottom row of teeth hard.

“Hi,” he blinks back, making sure to brighten his face with a small smile. “Ready?”

You shakily hum your answer, smoothing down your robe to busy your hands. It’s made of silk and feels incredible, but boy is it small. Just barely covering the cheeks of your ass, you might as well be wearing nothing.

“Alright. So, before I forget, let me go ahead and get a swab of the inside of your cheek, just so we have that on record.”

Frankie grabs a long cotton swab and its transport tube off his desk, stepping over to where you stand waiting. He swallows, ordering you to softly open. You obey with no questions asked, dropping your jaws.

Did you mean to stick out your tongue, too? Frankie has no idea, but whatever the answer is, he doesn’t care, not with the rustle he feels in his middle.

“Thank you,” he replies after a few scrubs of your mouth, eyes catching yours briefly before sticking the swab in the tube and placing it back onto his desk. He huffs, turning back around to you. “Now, let’s get you settled on the couch.”

Frankie holds out his hand for you to take without thinking. The regret that runs through him slips away as you place your hand into his grip and let him lead you. His other hand reaches for his chair, rolling it over as he walks with you.

He rubs a gentle thumb on the back of your palm as you sit, hand squeezing into a fist when yours drops from his. Frankie sits in his chair with a grunt, planting his feet on the group, making sure to face you.

The man softens a little at the sight of you, all bunched up into a ball of returned nerves, and he thinks for a moment.

“How about we start with a deep breath, yeah? Relax a little bit before we do anything else?”

You nod and Frankie’s head goes a bit fuzzy for a short moment. You’re so sweet, with your tiny robe and all your nods, like candy. You breathe in deep, just like he says to. Your chest rises with it, and Frankie almost forgets to take in the breath as well.

“Good. Now, how we go from here is up to you,” Frankie starts, hands folding together politely. “Robe can stay on, or you can take it off. Your decision–”

“Robe off,” you speak before he’s finished. He holds back a chuckle. “Sorry. I’m okay with it off if you are.”

Of course, you are. Of course, you are, and so is he.

“That’s absolutely okay with me. As long as you’re comfortable,” he states, and your fingers go to pull at the tie. He shuffles, waiting, and swallows when you pause.”

“Um, is my bra being off okay? I took it off with my dress, didn’t even think about it until now.”

Frankie’s head pivots back to the wine-colored chair. And so you did. There’s more lace than he expects, causing him to stare longer than he means. He turns back to you with his eyes darker than before.

“That’s perfectly fine.”

You nod again, fuck, and finally pull the ties. His heart nearly stops as the silk slips down your shoulder, exposing your naked skin to him, inch by inch.

God, you’re devastating. You devastate him, and he’s going to die a happy, happy man. It’s inappropriate, he knows that, but fuck. Yes, he’s a doctor, but he’s also a man with blood pumping through his veins and down into his cock, which he’s currently shielding with a subtle cupping of his hand.

Your robe continues to fall, and soon enough, nearly all of you is revealed to him. His eyes, working with a mind of their own, fall upon your breasts.

Of course.

“Wow,” is all he says, and the corners of your mouth pull upwards. You peek down, the tips of your barbell piercings shining with every one of your shaky inhales. “Wow, uh… wow.”

“Oh, these. Yeah, I got them a few years ago,” you reveal, setting the robe to the side. “Hurt like hell, but it was worth it.”

“While I definitely agree, I was talking about your… everything. You’re gorgeous, querida.”

Querida. The name is unexpected, yet received by you with dilating pupils. It’s not just the way he says it but the way he says it. You can tell that he means it, every letter. Every syllable, as it falls off his tongue, into your ears, and down to just inside the thin layer of your panties.

It’s the only piece of clothing left on your body, and you’re certain they’re soaked. You can feel yourself seeping through, needing for something to happen. Anything, or you’ll die.

“Thank you,” you murmur back, impatience inching you closer and closer. To what, you don’t know, but you think it’s something special. “Should I go ahead and…?”

Dr. Morales’s gaze oozes down you where you’re slowly parting your legs. It takes him a second to answer.

“Uh,” he interrupts himself with a short laugh, “actually I was going to have you do something else for me first. When you’re, you know, in the act of pleasuring yourself, how do you usually start? Do you… do you dive right in or is there some kind of build-up?”

Legs having paused, you blink. It’s almost impossible to formulate an answer, but somehow you manage.

“Normally, I’d play with my nipples.” God, it sounds so silly when you say it out loud. “Tease myself for a little bit until I’m ready to start.”

The doctor sits back in his seat, still covering his growing member.

“Why don’t you go ahead and do a little bit of that for me?”

There’s that thing again. With his voice, the thing that is causing your organs to convulse and squeeze. Has you scooting a little further back onto the couch with ease and a deep breath.

You hear Dr. Morales suck in one of his own as your legs spread a little further, revealing a large wet splotch in the very middle of your panties. It’s seeped a little into the couch, and you’re not even embarrassed. Your legs more because you want him to see it. You need him to.

A flinch jerks you when the tips of your fingers meet the buds of your breast. You twist and pull, and it feels good. Better than normal with the beautiful doctor watching you do it. They start to pebble around the metal and a few shocks through you.

Leaving your lips is a gasp. Soft and nearly nothing, but it tugs something from Dr. Morales.

“That’s it. Good girl.”

When you gasp again, he bites his lip.

“You like that? You like it when I say that?”

You nod.

“Words, querida.” No matter how much he likes the nod.

“Yes, I like it when you say that.”

“When I say what?”

You hear him chuckle at the small groan you release.

“A good girl.”

Your voice is even smaller now, hoarse with want.

“Good girl.” Another groan from you. “Now, I need you to move a little further down, okay? Slip those pretty panties off for me.”

Your turn.

“You really like them?”

Dr. Morales’s throat bobs at your question you ask while dragging your hand lower. They glide across your stomach to rest just over your center. Pushing onto your clit, your moan is muffled by the way your teeth catch the soft flesh of your lip.

“I do, muñeca,” he assures you. “I really do. They’re almost as pretty as you are.”

You can’t help the full grin that sneaks onto your face. You push against yourself a little harder, and your head falls to the back of the couch. Fingers hooking under the seam, you tug.

Everything feels like it’s moving in slow motion at this moment. You raise your head back up, just to catch the reaction from the doctor, who’s already gazing into your pussy when your eyes refocus. His breathing changes from long, calming inhales, to unsteady suspires.

“Jesus,” he grits out just under his breath when you eventually throw your panties alongside the robe and fully open yourself to him. Clenching around nothing, you relax further into the couch, legs propped and feet settled against the velvet.

Your huffs push out hot when Dr. Morales finally lifts from his seat. You don’t dare look away as he steps forward, towering over you. He bends at the waist, face lowering near your own. He gets so close that, for a split second, you think he’s going to kiss you. Press his pouting lips into yours like you so badly want him to.

His breath fans across your face, but he pulls away before you get to bask in any of the warmth. In his hand is a pillow from the couch that he plops onto the floor.

“Bad knees,” Dr. Morales mumbles, smirking at the dazed look in your eye. You say absolutely nothing, only watching as he drops his knees onto the wide pillow, hands clenching the edge of the couch cushions.

All the doctor does for a tick is stare. He stares and stares, tongue darting out to wet his mouth.

“Keep rubbing for me, hermosa,” Dr. Morales orders. “Just a little more.”

Your pussy clenches around nothing when your fingers dip down and come back sticky with your wetness. A whine exits you, and your head falls again.

“Can you touch me now? Please,” you remember to add at the end, the ache between your legs forcing you to squirm. “Please, I can’t wait anymore.”

A hand on your thigh almost startles you. Your head tips back up to see his palm sitting heavy against your leg.

“This what you want?” He asks, another scalding touch planting itself on your other thigh. His hands give thrilling grips, thumbs landing at the very edge of your dripping lips.

A pathetic nod from you.

“Words, gorgeous,” Dr. Morales tells you, gaze completely unmoving.

Gorgeous. Hm. A new one, but just as effective.

You pant a few more times before pushing out “Yes, that’s what I wanted.”

“Good girl,” he praises, and you’re nearly done for. “Now, if I ask on a scale of one to ten, how turned on are you right now?”

It’s tough to think of an answer. His hands, so big and inching closer and closer to your heat, are melting your thoughts away at record speed. Everything you try to come up with leaves too fast for you to catch them.

“A… a seven,” you sigh, liking the way his eyes twinkle at your response. “Seven.”

Dr. Morales chuckles lowly, looking up at you.

“Seven?” Frankie grins. “I haven’t touched your pussy yet, and you’re already at a seven?”

He waits for an answer but only receives a long whine that makes him want to laugh again. Fuck, you’re cute. And wet enough that your juices ooze out of you with a pretty shine, and it’s all for him.

Honestly, the only reason he’s lasted this long is because this is for science. Because Francisco Morales is a medical professional and needs to have some kind of composure. It’s breaking, though. He knows it, and not just because of the way his hands crawl closer and closer to your pussy. Or because of the ache in his cock that’s straining against the crotch of his jeans. Sucking in a breath at the feeling of it catching against the tight fabric, Frankie scans you.

Your chest, those stunning tits, have a noticeable rise and fall and you watch him. Something in your gaze, an unexplainable force, finally pulls his face down. It’s as close to your pussy as it’s been. He tries to remind himself about the self-control he’s supposed to be possessing, but a few more seconds pass and it’s nowhere to be found.

He starts just off the left side. The first kiss, soft and careful to start easy. Figure out what you like, what you don’t, and what you really like.

Kiss after kiss, his lips press a little harder. Gliding across the skin of your thighs and pelvis, staying in a spot a little long when it elicits a sound or squirm from you.

The pecks turn to full smooches, and he soon enough finds himself right where he wants to be.

Eyes meeting yours, he sinks into you with a long, fiercely slow drag of his tongue. Frankie’s gaze ties into yours, he puckers his lips and sucks. It’s a supple thing that he pairs with a flick of his tongue right across your pearl.

“Oh,” you squeak, unable to continue with anything but another broken sound. When you arch, Frankie’s hand reaches higher to rest against your hip. He had his suspicions that you were a squirmer, but to see it like this, up close is something else. Something special. “Shit.”

God, you taste incredible. Better than incredible, and while he wants to tell you he can’t. There’s no way he’s pulling away from this, so he suffices for his own moan.

“Fuck,” he mumbles against you, mouth lifting to suck a bit harder. The hand not occupied on your hip reaches until his thumb sits just inside your opening. He rubs, delicately, all the way up, only pulling his mouth away to smooth it over the slick skin.

Another moan, this time from both of you when your hips grind upwards. He matches your movements, letting his head dip back down to continue his lick.

After a while, Frankie decides to up it a notch. Delve as much of his mouth as he can against you, lapping and slurping whatever he can catch before it leaks down onto his chin. The sound it makes, your pussy and his soaking lips, is disgusting. Loud, sinful squelches of wetness that he would give anything to hear for the rest of his life.

Yet somehow, what leaves you is even better. A combination of hitching breaths, loud coos, and cries for him to keep going. Just like that, fuck. So he keeps going, just as he is until he can barely breathe.

He yanks away from you with a grunt but makes sure to replace his tongue with his hand.

“Such a gorgeous pussy,” Frankie husks out, pressing another kiss to your inner thigh while he finishes catching his breath. “What number now, princesa?”

Frankie makes sure to wait until you’re about to answer him when he snakes his tongue into your slit and fucks. His head bobs back and forth, tongue caressing as deep inside of you as he can. His fingers return to your clit, rubbing with ease thanks to the mixture of slick and spit.

“I don’t know, I can’t think of one,” you rush out, and Frankie chuckles. He gives you one last bold lick before pulling away. He has to hold you tighter when you squirm in irritation, nearly sobbing.

Frankie shushes you with a kind pat on your thigh. You don’t have a chance to whine anything out before he hooks an arm of your thighs and tugs you to the edge of the couch. One of your legs hangs just off the couch, so the doctor hitches it over his shoulder.

His eyebrows scrunch, and he focuses his attention on ghosting a few fingers just barely inside of you. He looks up at you and is met with you already looking back, ready and waiting for him to push further.

He pauses in a wait. Not ten seconds pass before you try to thrust his fingers further yourself, but he doesn’t let you.

“All you need to do is give me a number, baby, and I’ll fuck these as deep as you want.”

“Nine,” you whisper, and he spots your hands clench. You must want to touch him.

“Nine,” he repeated, thumb rolling a circle over your clit. “How many fingers to get you to ten?”

“Three, plea–ah,” you mewl out when Frankie slides his middle digit inside you. He lets out his own noise at the way you suck him in.

His hand bottoms out, and you’re already fucking yourself on his finger. “That’s a girl. Already taking my finger so well. Feel so fucking good around me.”

You’re truly a sight to behold as Frankie watches you, skin damp with a slight sheen, curving and grinding against his hand. Speed increasing, almost growls when he bends to lap at your clit. His tongue twirls against the bud of nerves, and he has to close his eyes to stop himself from reaching down and giving his painfully hard cock a squeeze.

Frankie slides in the second and third finger at the same time, and you break.

You don’t mean to tangle his hair with your fingers, but they do anyway. It’s hard, but you tug them away, clenching the couch instead.

“Sorry. Sorry, I–” you blurt out, breath long gone, but Dr. Morales has none of it. He doesn’t lift from his licking and swirling to grab your hand and tangle your fingers back into his hair. “Fuck me.”

The rhythm he finds is relentless. He pumps knuckles deep inside you, sliding in and out, collecting a residue of thick moisture. He curls his fingers, searching and finding the spongy spot that causes you to tighten your grip on his hair. His fingertips drag across it, over and over, and you fall limp in his grasp.

“Good fucking girl,” he tells you, words slurring together in his pussy-drunken state. “So good for me. Now I need you to cum, alright? Need you to come for me, all over my fingers so I can drink it all up.”

Dr. Morales slurps messily, chin now nearly dripping as he eats at you. Savoring the tang and hint of sweet while his fingers drive with a steady vigor. There’s no way you can stay still now. You arch, twist, and grind into the doctor, propelling him even deeper. He’s reaching somewhere inside of you that you once thought impossible. Taking grasp of you entirely.

You’re close. You’re so close

“I’m clo–fuck, yes, I’m close. Please don’t stop, please,” you whimper.

“Yeah, you are. Squeezing all nice around me, like a good girl. Sucking you into my mouth. Love how you feel on my mouth, baby. And on my tongue and around my fingers. Never gonna forget how you taste. Shit, could come just like this, so I need you to come right now, okay?”

Frankie doesn’t even know what he’s saying, his rambles. They just pour out, some of it incomprehensible as he busies himself with circling and flicking your sensitive clit.

You sob out one last moan before the damn breaks. He groans along with you at the way your clit throbs against his tongue. His fingers slow, but only a bit as they make sure to rub right against your g-spot.

A choking sound leaves you as you can barely breathe. The air sucks from your lungs almost as hard as Dr. Morales does down below, and your eyes clench shut. You see stars and space, world falling mute, and body quaking with a thick orgasm.

It rolls over you in drowning waves, the euphoric warmth, driving you with an unbearable bliss. You whine, crying out a few tears. Twitching and shivering under the strong hands of Dr. Morales.

His hold is tender as you work through it, talking to you gently in the pauses he takes from licking you clean.

“Fucking look at you, querida.”

“Did so good for me, so fucking perfect.”

“Can’t wait to get you back in here next week.”

Only some of the words make it to your ears. The blood rushing makes it hard to understand, but just the sound of it is comforting enough. You feel more kisses press into you, this time just under your belly button, as the fingers inside you still.

The two of you stay like that for several minutes. Dr. Morales murmuring quietly to talk you down. Your leg still over his shoulder caressed by his free hand, while your own twirls at his brown locks.

“Fuck me,” you breathe out eventually, and Dr. Morales smiles against you. You can’t help but join him, chest warming at the final peck he places onto your knee before lowering your leg.

“Gonna pull out, okay? I’ll go slow,” he tells you. You nod, hand falling around his to touch at the warm skin. You huff out a short breath, mouth falling open as you stare at the wetness revealed when he begins to pull out.

Frankie whispers out his own damn, watching you until his fingers are free. Fuck, you’re pretty, aren’t you?

“I meant what I said earlier,” he declares, pushing away the thought. “Did great, muñeca. Incredible, actually.”

“I could say the same for you…” you mumble with a shy grin, and Frankie finds it touching. You’re divine. You’re precious. You’re… his patient.

The room is filled with heat and smells of sex. It clouds Frankie’s brain, but he knows he needs to keep moving. You can dwell, but not him. He’s got a job to do.

Frankie only lets himself stare for a few more minutes before he rises with a groan. His knees are aching, but he doesn't care. His face heats when you help him up the rest of the way, loose limbs and wet stains in all.

“Thank you,” he smiles, moving to hand you your robe with his untainted hand. “Let me go grab you some water and a towel, and then we can do your swab so you can get out of here.”

He’s turning to leave, heading for the bathroom across the hall to wash his hand–it’s still wet and shining, even now–but stops when he sees the look on your face.

“Is it required that I leave right away?”

Frankie is quick to answer. The small pout on your face makes it so.

“Of course not,” he shakes his head. “You’re free to take your time, take a breath. Sip on the water I’m gonna go grab you. Hell, you can even take a nap, if you want. I’ve uh… we’ve got rooms upstairs with beds and blankets. I think there are some snacks in there, too.

“Really?” You blink at him.

“Yeah. Gotta keep you all as comfortable as possible.”

Frankie sees that look again, the pout. He’s not sure you even know you’re doing it.

“I actually might take you up on that nap. I don’t think my legs have really come back yet,” you tell him, looking at him while slipping on the robe. When feels your eyes trail down, right to the bulge in his pants, he sucks in a rough inhale and does his best to screen the obvious.

“I’ll be right back with that water and towel,” Frankie rushes out, turning for the door.

His clean hand is sitting shaky on the handle when he hears you.

“Do you want me to…” you trail off, pausing for so long that he doesn’t expect you to keep going. “I could help you with that if you want.”

That. He knows you aren’t talking about getting water or towels, and it crumbles him. He grits his teeth, dick jumping at the thought of your–

No. No, he can’t. No matter how much he wants to, he can’t.

Frankie turns, digging deep for the strength to look you in the eyes.

“...we shouldn't, sweetheart. It’s against the rules, and we don’t want either of us getting in any kind of trouble, right?”

It takes a long time for you to nod. Way too long.

“Right,” you agree, but Frankie can smell the lie. He wonders if you can smell his, too.

#frankie morales smut #frankie morales x reader #frankie morales x you #francisco morales x reader #francisco catfish morales #francisco morales #triple frontier fanfiction #triple frontier smut #triple frontier #au: the study

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goodmorgan · 5 months

Text

Perfect Strangers

Chapter 7: A Surprise to Revisit

Pairing: Arthur Morgan x f!Reader

Series Summary: When a stranger appears at your homestead to steal from you, you set out to help him instead. What follows is a reckless relationship with potentially dangerous outcomes.

Previous Chapters: (1) (2) (3) (4) (5) (6)

Chapter Summary: Arthur pays you a surprise visit in Saint Denis that ends in revelations.

Word Count: 4.8K

Tags: 18+. MDNI. NSFW. Smut, Porn With Plot, Mutual Pining, Angst, Infidelity, Oral Sex (m! and f! receiving), Unprotected PinV Sex, Clothed Sex, Multiple Orgasms, Caring and Protective Arthur Morgan

Taglist: @how-the-heck-would-i-know @pinkiec6-rubi @spiritcatcherxo @slumberr67

AO3 Link

A/N: Arthur Morgan just arrived to make Saint Denis hotter

You'd never imagine Saint Denis would be this hot. You'd never imagine it would be this lonely either. It feels vicious to feel both at the same time, your heart racing, either due to one or both. The swell of your chest as you take a deep breath makes the ache seem worse. It's definitely both.

You spent the whole morning getting ready, submerged in a neverending bath that was wasted as you're once again drenched in sweat. The frills of your dress sway with the movement of your quaint fan, not sturdy enough to ease the humidity that swallows you. The draped nuisance would be more tolerable if you weren't wearing a corset, snatched on you so tight it might just make you faint. Your bosoms are partially exposed, waiting to be hidden back once the time comes for you to leave your room and greet your soon-expected guest. You hope the moment never comes.

A gentle movement catches the corner of your eye and you turn to see one of the curtains in your room move, a slight breeze entering through it, a delightful sight as you suddenly leap from your chair to head to the window, hoping to catch it with your bare hands. The minor chill hits your skin and it feels like ecstasy for a few seconds until it goes out the window again, leaving you behind in the boiling room. Impatient, you open the curtains and you see the widow panes are not fully opened, so you press your hands against the glass to open them as far as they can go. They hit the wall with a thud just as you see a man standing in the courtyard, looking up at you, waiting for your return.

The warmth of the day suddenly becomes overwhelming as it hits your cheeks and you see Arthur Morgan staring at you, his hat in his hand and his gun on his belt. His eyes on his face and his lips on his mouth. The ones you've missed so terribly. For a moment you think you're hallucinating as you cease blinking and the breeze stops.

"Missy."

It's really him. Your mind couldn't have imagined how the timbre of his voice would echo in the courtyard, just loud and clear enough to be heard amongst the birds chirping and the distant chaos of Saint Denis. Loud and clear enough to make you recall every moment you have spent with him, wishing to relive them all again. Even as he quiets, you swear you can hear his breath, close enough to feel its warmth on you, just like he'd do every time he'd kiss your neck, your hands, your chin. It takes everything in you not to jump out the window and into his arms. But he's quick to read your mind.

"I'll come up." Arthur places his hat on his head before he disappears below the windowsill and the balcony of the floor below you, but you hear his steps as he begins to climb his way up to you. He reaches the balcony easily before he steps on a tall vase, reaching for the ledge that he walks on to reach your window. Before you know it, his flexed arms carry his weight into your room and they reach out to grab you as soon as his feet hit the floor.

It feels like coming home from a storm.

You bury your face in the crook of his neck as your hands push his torso onto you, breathing him in to discern whether he’s real or not. His arms evolve you as your hands reach for your face, parting the hair on your forehead as he tries to look into your eyes, his own watery from humidity and relief.

"I missed you too, missy."

Your chest swells with gratitude as he continues to study your face, his thumbs brushing your cheeks in slow thoughtful motions as he glares at your every feature. You hope yours look as dashing as his, now charred with a light sunburn, perhaps a mark of his trip here. You suddenly see his chapped lips move until they reach your own, tender but hungry, caring but thirsty, and you spend several beats showing how much you've missed each other. His wet tongue finds yours, the only remedy for the devilish heat of Saint Denis.

With so much to be said, you speak so little. Surrendering to the delight of your presence, you hum against one other, echoing murmurs as you roam with your hands and your lips, only stopping when you realize you miss seeing the eyes of the other. Arthur eventually moves to sit on your bed and you sit on his lap. You swaddle tightly against each other between kisses, the room temperature rising drastically.

"Needed to see you, sweetheart." His kisses land on the length of your neck, which you eagerly expose. "Couldn't bear it any longer." His lips dry the sweat on your skin. "I need to have you." His hands reach for the curve of your waist. "Can I have you?"

You snap your neck back as you look into his eyes, nodding lightly as you reach for his lips. "Yes. Take me, Arthur." A small peck seals your answer. "Please."

He grabs your hips forcefully to steady you as he begins to rock you in his lap, his own waist beginning to grind against you, first slowly, then forcefully as he gets excited beneath you. Even through the ruffles of your dress, you can feel him growing against you. It feels heavenly, especially after he begins to kiss your breasts to the beat of his own motions. You feel yourself getting wet for the first time in weeks, probably since the last time you were together like this. You close your eyes in delight as you let out a moan, encouraging him to keep going.

"Mhm, keep singing for me, angel." He squeezes your ass and you hum again. "It's what I came here for." He lowers your chin so his lips can try it. "Came just to have you." Your heart grows as you realize he came all the way to Saint Denis just for you. "Just to have my pretty little angel." Your eyes lower and see the hunger in his eyes. "Only you can take me." He swoops one of his hands to your front until he tightly cups your sex. "Only this will do." He rubs his fingers against your swollen lips and you gasp in need. "You ready for me?" He repeats the motion and you pant louder. "It seems like you are."

Arthur keeps warming your core with his impatient fingers, rubbing steadily as if to see if your wetness will seep through all the layers you're wearing. If he keeps going, it just might. Maybe he wants to make a mess out of you. But then a kiss lands softly on your cheek. "You wanna undress for me, angel?"

He desires you naked, bare for all of his eyes to see, craving the sight he's so desperately been missing. By the way he moves and talks, he's beyond anxious to see and feel himself sink inside you, the only one that can seize him. You're just about to give him all he wants but then you remember why you're so dressed up in the first place.

"Arthur, I can't. I'm expecting company." It took you hours to get ready, twisting yourself into the most expensive dress you have. As much as it pains you, you cannot give all of yourself to him.

"Someone besides me?" His other hand is now reaching below your skirts, trying to reach the place where the other one is playing. You hum against his lips, both as an answer and as a response as he reaches your thigh. "We still got time?"

His fingers reach the seam of your bloomers, pulling them down. He cups your core again, this time without any clothes in the way, and the feeling is so intense that you close your eyes and let out a stifled groan. "Yes. Please."

"Good. The door locked? Or are your guests gonna see us like this?"

You try hard to think for a moment, dizzy with the kneading of his fingers. "Yes, it's locked. No one's here yet."

Despite your quick answer, your heart suddenly aches at the thought of your expected guest walking in on you, watching as Arthur deepens himself inside you while you cry out his name. No, your guest wouldn't like that. Your husband wouldn’t like that at all.

But you don't have time to dwell on it as Arthur suddenly stops fondling you. "Well good, then. We can still have our fun." He picks you up by the waist to have you sit on the bed, kissing you before he steps back to remove his restraints. Your mind goes blank as he unbuckles his belt and reaches for the erection in his trousers, setting out to reach his full potential with gentle steady strokes.

The image is bliss, reminding you of the first time you saw him do it by your fireplace, a man burning to be touched. You suddenly flutter at the thought of seeing him fully. If you can't be naked, maybe he can. "Can I see you? All of you?"

He grins at your words, the smile of a delighted scoundrel. "Sure. Anything for my angel." His stiffness is now enough to sustain itself and it protrudes as he removes his shirt, tan lines visible on his neck and arms, his legs and torso a subtle shade lighter. His nakedness is something to behold, incandescent in the heat of your room in Saint Denis.

He resumes stroking himself, watching as you carefully study him. His grin disappears once he approaches you again, reaching for your face with his other hand, softly caressing your cheek as the lust in his eyes intensifies, no doubt as much as yours, now looking up at him with swollen appetite. "Mhm. So pretty for me to take." He ponders his strategy for a moment. "Wanna taste me first?"

His member hovers close to your mouth, perfectly positioned to answer his request by carrying it out. His tip, as always, is tantalizing and familiar, becoming less bitter with each take. Your lips are now accustomed to his thickness, stretching eagerly as your tongue tastes his desire, hot and improper. You start to take him in deeper when he protests. "Not too much, darling. I still wanna get inside you." It's your cunt he wants to feel most of all, so you settle for sucking his tip just enough to get him puffing a few times. When he's satisfied, now fully formed, he retracts, gently pulling out of you with noise. "That was real good, girl." The appetizer isn't complete. "Can I taste you now?"

His knees are on the floor before he hikes your skirts, waiting for a positive answer. You nod a yes as you feel his hands sliding your bloomers all the way down. He tosses them aside before his head disappears beneath the expensive fabrics and you take a shallow breath before you feel his beard scratch the inside of your thigh. He tries to contain himself, kissing your mound before aiming for lower, your throbbing lips begging for his touch. You grab at the quilt beneath you as his tongue finally swipes your bud, intense and sublime, achy and needy. You can’t distinguish the work of his lips from the work of his tongue as you begin to lose yourself against his prowess. With the way he worked you over your clothes, it’s no wonder you’re so close to coming apart this fast.

Your breathing fastens with each lick and flick, his hands holding your thighs still so he can keep you in place. You try to savor the feeling as you know it’s coming to an end. You keep your eyes shut as you brace for impact. But suddenly, his hands leave you and his mouth follows suit, but you’re too overwhelmed to peek. You’re delighted when you feel pressure on your clit again, although a much different kind. Something stiff now stimulates you. You feel repeated probes pleasuring you, a steady rhythm building your climax again.

Heavily aroused but curious, you open your eyes and see Arthur back on his feet, his head now over your skirt, watching as he steadies your waist with one of his hands. Underneath the fabric, the other hand guides his cock, his hot tip, worked by your mouth, being aimed repeatedly at your core, making you gasp with every motion. It's his own stiffness building your peak, making you clench harder against nothing, your whole body beginning to succumb to madness. Arthur takes notice and he thrusts a few more times before he decides to breach you.

He enters you just as your orgasm arrives, one of his hands now working your clit. His entry is messy as he tries to wrestle against you, pinning you down to stop the jolt of your hips. His head deepens despite the clenching of your walls, the feeling as intense for him as it is to you, expelling deep grunts of satisfaction as he finally gets to his destination. Despite being overstimulated, your whole body cries in ecstasy, with no choice but to bend to his will, even as you gasp for air descending from your peak. Instead of easing on you, Arthur begins to roll his hips against yours, burying himself over and over again, first slow and then incessantly, getting hungry for more the more he fills you. "That's it, missy. Let me feel you." The feeling on your bud subsides as you begin to feel him pulsing on your inside, his speed quickening as he bends over, grabbing one of your shoulders to angle his thrusts. “Be good to me, sweetheart.” You’re not sure what he means until he speaks again. “Be a pretty little miss and come for me again.”

He holds one of your hips in place as his movements become as quick as your breathing. Still trying to recover from your first orgasm, you’re not sure if you’ll be able to come again this fast. But surely enough, you feel a budding sense of urgency approaching again. It’s like he knows you better than you do. “That’s it. Keep going, missy.” His words are muffled by the lewd sounds the joining of your hips is making, becoming faster by the thrust. “That’s what I need.” Suddenly, the end is imminent again. “Give me what I came here for.” A few more times do the trick, as he feels your waves riding his impatient member. Now you don’t just say his name, you shout it, the second time more intense as you feel him go still inside you, savoring your euphoria. “That’s my good missy.”

It takes you a good moment to recover from the release, the movement of your jaw painful as you attempt to put it back in its place. Arthur waits for you to recover for a few seconds before being quick to assign new commands. “Need you to get up, sweetheart. Need to finish.” You’re unsure of how he still hasn’t come after all of your hard work, but you see he’s holding his base tightly so as not to spoil his finish. He instructs you to get on your knees. “Need you to finish me, missy.” He sits where you were laid, spreading his legs apart so you can access him comfortably. You place your hands on his thighs once you’re in place to start. “Take it all now, darling. No need to let it go to waste.”

Arthur clears some of the loose strands of your hair while you carry out his request, your head soon bobbing comfortably to the steady rhythm of his breathing. You know he’s trying to enjoy it but it’s clear he won’t last very long. You add a twisting hand to his base, which speeds the process along. His tip is well at the back of your throat when he begins to unravel, his muscles tensing under your touch. He grabs your hair tightly once he reaches the point of no return. “Oh, fuck, missy.” His voice growls like you’ve never heard it before. If only you could see his every feature now, but you’re too busy doing the swallowing he requested. Once he’s finished, you keep his cock in your mouth until he pulls you away from him. He likes to feel the warmth of your mouth as he wanes.

He keeps holding your hair as he lifts your head to kiss you, tasting his own bitterness on your tongue. You swallow his kiss hungrily as you did his spend, thankful you get to have so much of him again. The kiss extends as he pulls you up onto his lap, your dress now crumpled by the motions of your tryst. You hope your guest doesn't notice.

Arthur, worn out, lays down on the bed and leads you along with him, your body and clothes swaddling his sweaty and naked body, caressing every inch of him you touch. He tries to do the same, seeking solace in the comfort he gives you, showing you how much he cares for you.

“Was that what you came here for?” you ask, somehow afraid he’s gonna say no.

“That was everything and more, sweetheart.” He kisses you tenderly, the wild beast from before suddenly tamed. “I’d travel anywhere just to for a taste of that. Hell, I just did.”

“Well, can you stay?” You brush his hair back, his eyes glowing as bright as the afternoon sun outside. You hope this is a surprise to revisit.

“What about your guests?”

Your stomach turns as you’re reminded your husband will be here soon. “They won’t stay long. I'll be alone tonight.”

Arthur takes a deep breath before he places a gentle kiss on your forehead, a subdued answer for a man still yearning for more. “Tonight then. I’ll come over once the house is quiet.”

“I'll be waiting.” Your smile is as wide as your legs, now anchoring his waist between them.

Arthur grabs a hold of your thigh, his other hand gently squeezing the padding of your rump, the ruffle of your dress loud as he grabs you greedily. "Now don't be wearing no dress. I need to have you properly." His eyes glisten like a petty child who still hasn't had his dessert.

"I won't, don't worry." You reach for his lips reassuringly. "I'll be sure to be wearing nothing at all." You try to attempt a devilish smirk but it's cut short once he deepens the kiss, laying you fully on top of him, your thighs anchoring you over him. His hands hasten their grip on your buttocks as he hungrily feeds from you, his tongue deep within your mouth. The sudden strain of his body tells you he might be getting ready to go again. You might just go with him.

But in your deep emulsion, a loud noise from another part of the house wakes you. It's the undeniable heaviness of the front door slamming shut downstairs, the one that tells you someone has been let in. It must be your husband.

Suddenly panicked, you break from Arthur's lips to whisper slowly: "They're here." His puzzled face eases once he realizes you mean your guests, but he emits a grunt once you leave his body to go to your vanity to freshen up. Your hair is disheveled, and your face is bruised from your passionate romp. You hurriedly try to put everything back in its place, from your knickers to your breasts to your shoes. You try to restore your hairdo in the mirror as you watch Arthur in the corner of your eye, trying his best to get dressed as fast as he can. His cock is half hard again as he puts it back on his bloomers.

You're still fiddling with your hair when he's fully dressed and he catches your gaze in the mirror. "Must be important, these guests of yours, for you to care so much about how you look."

"Oh, believe me. They're not. Not at all." You grab your powder puff so you can attempt to erase Arthur's marks on your cheeks and your neck. "Would rather not see them for the rest of my life if I could."

Arthur places a hand on your shoulder, attentive to how you rebuke your guests. "That so?"

You turn around to face him, certain of what you're gonna say next. "You're the only one that matters to me, Arthur."

Your revelation hangs in the air like sweet mist, his eyes piercing your own as if it's too good to be true. But then he kisses you like he believes you, like he's just heard the only good thing that's ever been said to him. Maybe that's what he came to hear, coming all the way to Saint Denis. You're glad it's off your chest.

The kiss lingers for a while, the air leaving your lungs just as easily as your words left your mouth. He holds your face in his hands as if he's holding the reigns of the tenderness he lost some time ago. "You be sure to get rid of your guests quick, you hear? Don't want you taking shit from nobody." He kisses your forehead again as if to give you the strength you so desperately need. "I'll come over tonight." You fasten the buttons he missed on his shirt, his chest still damp from the exertion of the afternoon. He heads to the window, getting ready to climb down the same path he made on his way up. He hesitates before he disappears. "You matter to me too."

You don't have time to dawdle. Your face is fully powdered when you finally look presentable. The creases in your dress can't be ironed out but they looked worse when you were on the bed. You douse yourself in perfume to camouflage the smell of sex on you. Your lips need no added color, still crimson, still hot from Arthur's kneading them.

You hope you've covered your adulterous ways as much as possible once you reach for the door handle of your room. You feel yourself go numb once you turn it, realizing that not only is it not locked, it was left barely closed. Anybody could have come in. Any of the servants could have heard you from the hall.

You try desperately to shake the feeling that anyone in the house has even an inkling of what has happened between you and Arthur. The best thing will be to assume no one knows anything, to act as if nothing happened. You're just a wife who's late to see her husband, out of breath due to the heat.

Your feet clang is muffled by the carpet as you hurry down the stairs, a few strands of your hair leaving their assigned curls. The excessive smell of your perfume is nauseating, even to you. Your palms are sweaty once you reach the parlor where everybody sits. You apologize for your tardiness, your mouth suddenly dry, still tasting bitter. You realize you forgot to wash it. A swig of brandy would have wiped clean any trace of his cum.

Your husband stands to greet you, his loathsome face reaching for yours as he eyes to get a better look at his absentee wife. He has a few more wrinkles than the last time you saw him, his wickedness shining through at last. You're repulsed when he aims to kiss you, on the lips even.

You just hope he doesn't taste Arthur on your mouth.

---

"You matter to me too."

It's been hours since he said it and yet it must have crossed your mind as many times as there have been seconds. To be away from each other all these weeks has been torture, making you doubt whether everything that happened between you ever took place. Perhaps it was a distant dream, fantasized and tucked away in your house in New Hanover. But everything that happened was real, brought to light with every touch and every word he gave this afternoon, reminding you of the best memories anybody has ever given you. Not only that, you matter to him too.

There couldn't have been a worse day to be distracted. After pleasantries and polite conversation, you and your husband were left alone to discuss the state of your marriage and what little left still ties you. Mostly money. Your husband is bent on staying in Annesburg as his employment in the coal mine continues. Despite trying to elicit you there, you refused, adamant to continue your quaint life in New Hanover. He tried to object but luckily he didn't keep it up for long. He agreed to keep sending your allowance, pretending to act remorseful when he told you he wouldn't be able to visit you for a while.

In fact, he can't even be bothered to spend the night in Saint Denis. Too much work in the mine, he said. You wonder how can a bookkeeper be so busy in such a place. As a whole, things will remain the same. You're free from each other for the time being. After a few miserable hours together, you accompany him to the train station, where he leaves back to Annesburg with nothing but the hope of reunion and the burden of alimony. You don't offer him your lips and show him your cheek instead. They serve a better man now.

The late afternoon is surprisingly cooler as you leave the station and it suddenly seems like the perfect time for a walk. You'll get a good stretch before you get back to your aunt and uncle's house and the money you save on the carriage can buy a cold one at the nearby saloon. There's still some time before supper to enjoy your own company.

The streets seem calm and leisurely as the city unwinds from a hectic work day. There are fewer horses in the streets but people are out to enjoy the soft breeze after such a hot day. The sun is dimming, spent from toiling all day. The colors of the buildings and the parks are lovely, emitting a shade you haven't seen since you arrived. Everything seems picturesque.

"You matter to me too."

But a commotion suddenly breaks up the street that you're walking. Two female voices yell, fast and high-pitched as they jostle against a misplaced man who's trying to steal one of the lady's purse. He wrestles to break the bag free from their hands and when he's successful he takes off at high speed, storming off into the opposite direction. The women yell desperately "Thief! Thief!"

It's a shock to witness such an act during such a pleasant stroll so it takes a few seconds for you to regain your wits. Passersby rush to the women to make sure they're not physically harmed. A few people look around to see if any policemen are around. It's odd that none are nearby. You remember that the police station is right around the corner.

Suddenly your feet are moving and you start racing to the station, hiking your skirts to speed up. After a few fast-moving seconds, you're there, pushing the front doors open and warning the first policeman you see inside. He warns his colleagues before they set off to try to catch the thief, some on foot, some on horseback. Your breath is still hitched when you recover from your daze, relieved you've done your part to help.

"Quite a fright you've had there, I bet." You turn to see an elderly man facing you, holding a ragged mop in his hands. His thick mustache curves as he smiles at you. "Would you like a glass of water, miss?"

You smile back at the kind stranger and you nod as you accept his courtesy. When he puts down the mop and heads inside, something catches your eye on the wall behind him.

At first, they're just posters, but they seem to have drawings of faces, shapes not discernible from where you stand. You get closer to them, curious, and after a few steps one of them comes into full view. It's a familiar face.

$5000 REWARD.

It's the one you refamiliarized yourself with this very afternoon.

WANTED

Your skin is still bruised from his touch.

DEAD OR ALIVE

Your lips are still hot from his tongue.

APPROACH WITH CAUTION

His seed still burns in your stomach.

ARTHUR MORGAN

It seems he matters to someone else too.

---

A/N: This chapter was the reason I started writing this fic! I hope you enjoyed it as much as I did writing!

#arthur morgan #arthur morgan x reader #arthur morgan x female reader #arthur morgan x you #arthur morgan fanfiction #arthur morgan smut #goodmorgan #perfect strangers fic

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starsandhughes · 5 months

Text

Penalty Box Series— Trevor Zegras Edition (Nine)

23-34 Season Masterlist

previous: eight

this might be the shortest one yet i’m so sorry

NOVEMBER 5, 2023

yourusername

liked by trevorzegras, _quinnhughes, and 19,639 others

yourusername welcome back to my postgame penalty box update show: THE COMEBACK QUACKS STRIKE AGAIN edition!

my duckies gave the golden whores their first regulation loss of the season!!! THAT'S MY BOYS!! LEAVE THEM IN RUINS! the first two periods were agonizing, but the boys came through in the third, as they do! WE HAVE WON SIX GAMES IN A ROW! WE MAY NEVER LOSE AGAIN!

you know what else made a comeback? trevor's streak since his last penalty! he was the default criminal again for the too many men penalty, but legally my baby daddy is at one whole game since his last penalty! good job, sweet boy!

i’d like to make a special shoutout to minty! he got his first ever nhl penalty tonight for hooking! we were all confused though because... it did not look like a hook... minty's confusion was captured in the ninth pic! whatever the case, congratulations! so proud! i hope you loved your trophy!

trevor, you look cute as fuck in the second picture. i’m literally so in love with you and obsessed with you and i can't wait to cling on to you tonight because good GOD i love to see you in those purple jerseys! i love you, always, sweet boy💜

tagged trevorzegras and mintyukov_10

view all 144 comments

jackhughes i love you, forever, soulmate❤️

yourusername i love you, too, soulmate but WOULD YOU STOP DOING THIS?!

jackhughes no <3

trevorzegras @/jackhughes i miss you

jackhughes @/trevorzegras i miss you more

colecaufield @/trevorzegras i miss you the most

trevorzegras @/colecaufield i miss YOU the most

jackhughes @/trevorzegras you cheating scumbag!

colecaufield @/jackhughes stay mad

yourusername @/trevorzegras stop flirting with your boy toys and come love ME

trevorzegras @/yourusername one second, dear

jamie.drysdale @/trevorzegras do i mean nothing to you?

trevorzegras @/jamie.drysdale you mean everything to me

yourusername @/taryntkachuk i will pay for your plane ticket to come hang out with me since trevor has THREE BOYFRIENDS

taryntkachuk @/yourusername after my season ends i’m all yours, babe ;)

trevorzegras @/yourusername well played

trevorzegras I LOVE YOU, FOREVER💜

yourusername too little too late, trevor!

trevorzegras so no head?

_quinnhughes why? just why?

trevorzegras @_quinnhughes i saw my opportunity and i took it

yourusername @/trevorzegras beautifully done. 11/10. you can have head

jamie.drysdale THERE COULD BE CHILDREN PRESENT

yourusername @/jamie.drysdale that is not on me

user7 sissy and trevor: ceos of grossing their best friends out

_quinnhughes @/trevorzegras do you vacation in the penalty box?

trevorzegras why? are you looking for a time share?

jackhughes HA

yourusername POINT TREVOR

_quinnhughes @/trevorzegras that was good, i have to admit

trevorzegras @_quinnhughes thank you, thank you, i’m here all your life

_quinnhughes unfortunately

jackhughes point quinn!

user16 penalty box? more like trevor's box

jamie.drysdale dibs on cuddling z first

yourusername i will hold you a nerf gun point

jamie.drysdale you have a tendency of losing our nerf gun wars, little miss

yourusername i will bite you

jamie.drysdale that's not new

trevorzegras @/jamie.drysdale she's feral right now i wouldn't test her

jamie.drysdale @/trevorzegras her pregnancy hormones are tearing our love apart😭

yourusername @/jamie.drysdale you're making a terrible case for being a god father with that comment, drysdale

colecaufield @/yourusername YOU'RE ONLY HAVING TWO BABIES! WHO IS UP FOR GOD FATHER DEBATE?!

_alexturcotte @/yourusername you mean to tell me that your two best friends aren't automatically god fathers?

trevorzegras @/colecaufield @_alexturcotte there's more to this than just who have we known the longest!

yourusername @/colecaufield @_alexturcotte whoever doesn't get a baby can have luke

jackhughes @/yourusername @/trevorzegras i still get to be an uncle, right?

yourusername @/jackhughes unfortunately

trevorzegras point y/n!

user39 return of the slut in the seventh pic! we love to see it

mintyukov_10 thank you, y/n! i love you, too! and i love my first penalty trophy almost as much as my first goal trophy

yourusername you are ever so welcome my little peppermint!

trevorzegras you caught on quick to my girl's nonsense, minty!! atta boy!

leocarlssoon @/trevorzegras i gave my fellow rookies the run down

yourusername @/leocarlssoon this is why you're my favorite son! i love you🧡

leocarlssoon @/yourusername i love you, too, mom!

lhughes_06 @/yourusername this blatant favoritism is just cruel at this point

edwards.73 @/yourusername we deserve love, too, mom!

yourusername @/lhughes_06 @/edwards.73 i love the rest of my sons equally! i didn't raise you to be whiny! get over it!

trevorzegras @/yourusername what if we have a boy? or two?

yourusername @/trevorzegras then the rest of my sons will be dead to me

mintyukov_10 that seems reasonable

yourusername @/mintyukov_10 your undying support is treasured

user6 i, too, am obsessed with trevor

user11 HE'S SO BABYGIRL AH

colecaufield ceo of trying his best!

yourusername stop bullying my mans!

trevorzegras i’ll pop off just you wait

yourusername yeah you will!! give em the old razzle dazzle!!

colecaufield @/trevorzegras i believe in you!

trevorzegras @/colecaufield ceo of making me blush!

yourusername @/taryntkachuk is your season over yet?

taryntkachuk @/yourusername after the championships! i’ll save you soon, i promise <3

#penalty box series #trevor zegras #trevor zegras x reader #trevor zegras fanfiction #trevor zegras au #trevor zegras imagine #jack hughes #quinn hughes #luke hughes #cole caufield #jamie drysdale #alex turcotte #jack hughes imagine #quinn hughes imagine #hockey imagine #nhl imagine #trevor zegras insta edit #anaheim ducks imagines

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turtletaubwrites · 5 months

Text

I Knew It Would Hurt ~ Part 9

Pairings: Zoro x Fem!Reader, Sanji x Fem!Reader

Word Count: 4,715

This is part 9 of the Series 'We've All Got Needs,' linked below:

We've All Got Needs Masterlist

Ao3 Series Link

Summary: You're waiting for the boys to make their decision. Waiting is really fucking hard.

Rating/Warnings: Explicit Sexual Content, Fem!Reader, 18+ Only, MDNI, Reader-Insert, Smut, Angst, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Fluff, Relationship Discussions, Relationship Drama, Vaginal Fingering, Cunnilingus, Penis in Vagina Sex, I left out some tags to avoid spoilers but there’s nothing crazy if you’ve read this far already

A/N: Here's another rollercoaster, and it's the longest one so far! I'm super grateful for all of your interactions with this story. I've loved turning that little smut scene into this fun character dynamic, and I really hope you enjoy this next installment. Thank you!!

A soft knock at the door woke you, and for a moment you felt fine. Then you remembered.

“I’ve got your breakfast, can I come in?”

Nami frowned when she saw you. She set your plate down on your desk, then pulled you into a hug.

“This whole thing seems like a lot of work. I’m here if you need me, okay?”

“Thanks, Nami. All I wanted to do was take a long shower, and now I might be breaking up with two people I’m not actually with.”

“Gotta be careful about those showers, they can fuck you up.”

You gave a laugh that might have been a sob before squeezing her tighter.

“Love you.”

She pulled away, but grabbed your shoulders, leaning her face toward yours.

“Love ya too, weirdo. What do you need today?”

“Um, can you bring me my field notes? Chopper knows where they are. I’m just gonna work in here today, I’m not ready to people.”

“Of course. I can bring you your other meals too if you want.”

Sighing as you nodded, memories of recent times in the kitchen fought you as you tried to shove them down.

“Luffy really thinks you’re sick now.”

“He might not be far off. I feel like shit.”

After Nami came back to drop off lunch later, another knock came, freezing you on the spot.

“Hi, it’s Robin.”

You cringed a bit, embarrassed for her to see you like this, but you let her in. Her eyes combed over you, lips pursing as she stepped inside. She kept a noticeable distance between you.

“Y/N, I came to apologize. I shouldn’t have been pushing you like this, I knew you were overwhelmed already. I’m so sorry I added to your struggle.”

“No, Robin, it's okay. You helped me! I really needed to hear what you said.”

Robin let out a breath, but her brows were still tensed. She looked down at the ground before meeting your eyes again.

“I shouldn’t have pushed myself on you. I’m sorry, Y/N.”

Her normally steady eyes looked heavy, a sight she rarely shows.

Reaching for her hand, you felt a gentle smile warming your face.

“I’m not sorry.”

Her lips curled up just a bit, and she squeezed your fingers gently.

“I’m so glad to hear that… How about we wait on that date until everything settles?”

You almost argued that you didn’t need to wait, but you realized that you did.

“Thank you, Robin.”

She brushed a strand of hair from your face, and you breathed in her lovely scent.

“Thank you, Y/N. Let me know if you need anything. I’ll do what I can to calm the rest of the crew.”

The comfort that Robin's presence left you with made you feel safer, warmer.

But it was as if that feeling of safety made room for your body to feel the rest.

Sitting at your desk staring at your field notes, your vision started to blur. You had to close your journal to keep tears from staining your monographs.

You kept your sobs silent, not wanting anyone to hear. Then you remembered why you’d gotten so good at keeping your screams quiet lately. You had to cover your mouth as you choked, louder sobs escaping you now.

Why did I do this to myself? I knew it would hurt. Just not this much, not so fast. I should have stopped.

But you hated that thought. The thought of not enjoying the short time you’d had with both of them. The pleasures, the laughter, the growing warmth. You didn’t want to lose any of it, even if it would hurt less.

You tried not to think about what choice they would make. The only one you wanted felt selfish. You’d get to have everything.

And if you didn’t get to have everything, then it would be nothing. You knew that even if one of the boys chose to leave, and one wanted to stay, you couldn’t continue with only one. There was too much heat between all three of you. You knew it would drive an even bigger wedge between them, potentially tearing them, and the crew apart.

I can’t do that.

So it was all or nothing, and your body was preparing you for the worst.

A knock shook you from your spiral and you moved to the door, expecting Nami. Wiping your tears and shaking your arms, you checked.

“Who is it?”

“Hi, Y/N. I’ve got your dinner, and I didn’t eat any of it.”

Your eyes went wide, but you let your captain in.

“Thank you, Luffy.”

He walked right in, setting your plate on your desk before plopping on your bed.

You stared, not sure what to say. He pointed to your desk chair, and you felt suddenly terrified as you sat and faced him. He watched you like he was sizing you up.

“Robin told me and Chopper why you’ve been weird.”

“O-Oh?”

“I’m the captain, Y/N. I need to know my crew is okay.”

Fear iced through you, and you stared into your lap. He should kick me off the crew. I’m splintering his best fighters, endangering everyone.

His hand stretched toward you, and he touched your shoulder until you met his eyes.

“It all seems a little crazy to me.”

You let out a near panicked laugh before you caught yourself.

“Yeah, me too.”

“But you care about them?”

His deep eyes looked so soft, his voice intense.

“I do.”

Nodding, he crossed his arms.

“They care about you too, Y/N.”

You felt your lips shaking, heat rising in your throat.

“As long as you care about each other, and keep fighting for your dreams, I’m happy.”

Hot tears spilled down your cheeks as Luffy started to smile.

“Can you be happy too?”

Your lips pulled into a strained smile as you tried to stop your tears.

“I’ll get there, Luffy. It’s just rough right now. But I’m glad you’re my captain.”

Luffy was beaming at you now, then stretched to ruffle your hair. He leaned toward you, and whispered softly.

“Will you keep giving me the extra food Sanji makes you?”

You burst out laughing, and Luffy’s smile stretched even wider.

“Yes, captain!”

Luffy grabbed you in a hug, twirling you as much as he could in the small quarters. This is family.

As he left he gave you one more serious look.

“Y/N, please tell me next time something is hurting you. I’m your captain and I need to know.”

“I promise, Luffy.”

All the emotions of the day had you feeling empty, but now it was more pleasantly numb. Your biggest fear of losing your place on this crew, in this family, those fears were shrinking away from you. Soft tears of relief left your eyes now, and you tried to comfort yourself against the hurt of losing Zoro and Sanji. At least I won’t lose them completely.

That thought brought back more of the pain, but you shook it off. It was getting late, and you wanted to get some air. Steeling yourself, you picked up your dishes and went down the hall, hoping to sneak them into the galley before sitting out on deck.

You crept against the wall, listening to check if Sanji was inside or not before heading in.

But you heard two low voices.

“You don’t know her like I do.”

“I care about her, Marimo. I care about her enough to share her with you. Can you say the same?”

You tried to force your body to turn around, to head back to your room, but all you could focus on was not shaking the plate and silverware in your hands.

Your heart was in your throat, and you felt faint as you waited for what felt like hours for his response.

“Yeah, I can, idiot cook.”

A gasping sob escaped you, and you tried to cover your mouth. Instead, you dropped your dishes, the plate shattering at your bare feet. You stared at the broken porcelain, and started laughing hysterically.

“Y/N!”

They both rushed out, concern in their eyes.

“Are you hurt?” “You okay?”

You were too out of it to respond, and kept laughing as they both tried to lift you. Zoro won, lifting you in his arms, while Sanji brushed along your feet and legs, checking for glass.

Your breathing slowed as you felt Zoro’s racing heart, and you felt like you could fall asleep in his arms. He carried you into the kitchen while Sanji swept up the broken plate.

Zoro placed you gingerly in the booth, his brows furrowed as he looked you over.

“Needy, please. Are you okay?”

You smiled at the nickname, and looked at them both as Sanji joined you at the table.

“I’m okay.”

Neither of them seemed convinced, but you couldn’t explain the rush of relief and happiness that had just torn through your already overwhelmed system. But you tried.

“I didn’t mean to. But I heard you.”

You felt your lips quivering again as they both seemed to soften.

“It’s okay if you still need some time to think-”

“I don’t need time my love-” “I’m good, Needy-”

Your cheeks hurt from the smile that stretched your face, especially when they both grinned back at you.

Then your mouth stretched further into the biggest, loudest yawn you’d ever felt.

“You need some sleep-” “Let’s get you to bed, dear-”

Zoro went to lift you, but Sanji tapped his shoulder.

“You just carried her, It’s my turn now.”

“I’m not letting a pervert cook into her bedroom when she needs to rest.”

“Boys,” you commanded with another yawn. “Flip a coin or something please, I’m tired.”

Your yawns were mixed with tired giggles while you saw them rustling through their pockets. Sanji’s satisfied laugh, and Zoro’s grumble gave away the winner.

Sanji lifted you gently, and you smelled cigarette smoke and spices on his jacket. Zoro followed close, opening the door, and hovering while Sanji set you in bed, drawing the covers over you.

“Good night, darling-” “Good night, Needy-”

“Night, boys…”

A soft knock woke you, and for a moment you felt all that sadness. Then you remembered.

You sat straight up in bed, hoping that it wasn’t a dream.

“Who-Who is it?”

“Your favorite navigator, lazybones. Do you want to come to breakfast?”

You jumped out of bed, stumbling.

“Yeah, I’ll be right out!”

Your reflection looked dazed, and you slapped your cheeks a few times, laughing. You hurried to get ready, and had to stop yourself from racing down the hall.

Everyone was there, already digging into their plates. They all turned to stare at you with teasing, or cheesy faces. Your face flushed, and you bit your lip before climbing into the empty spot Zoro had saved for you. You were next to him at the edge of the table, where Sanji stepped up to bring you what looked like a mimosa with tangerine blossoms for a garnish.

“Hey, why don’t I get one of those?”

“Apologies Nami, dear. I will whip one up for you right away. Would you like one as well, Robin?”

“That sounds lovely, Sanji.”

“Hey, don’t hog the booze, waiter. Make me one of those too.”

“You haven’t earned it, moss hea-”

Everyone's clamoring voices died down as you burst out laughing, almost hysterical, but so full of joy and relief.

Luffy grinned, stretching to hit your arm lightly with his fist, Chopper looked confused, Usopp was asking Sanji for his own mimosa, and Nami and Robin laughed with you.

The boys had stopped arguing, and were both staring at you. Until your skin flushed red again, and your laughter hiccuped and faded.

“Ugh. I love you, Y/N, but this is gonna get annoying real fast.”

You stuck your tongue out at Nami as she winked, and fell into quiet joy while you tried to listen to the group.

Sanji kept bringing you delicious gifts, and you’d wink at Luffy so he could snag them. Each time Sanji came your way he would give you a soft peck on the forehead, or shoulder, or knuckles.

A low grumble moved through Zoro, but all he did was wrap his arm around your shoulders, pulling you into his warmth.

Feeling like you were going to pass out, you didn’t even hear most of what the crew were saying while they teased you.

You caught yourself doing your happy food wiggle dance, and couldn’t seem to stop, even humming now and then. The crew left the three of you there, and you didn’t hear their goodbyes, just beamed lazily at them.

Sanji brought his plate to the table, and cleared his throat until Zoro begrudgingly scooted over, dragging you with him to make room on the bench. Sanji winked at you before diving into his meal, and you just sat there wiggling, out of your mind.

“I knew you were fuckin’ needy.”

You laughed while Sanji spluttered, and you patted his knee to calm him.

“What do you mean, Zoro,” you smirked up at him, teasing.

“You know what I mean. So fucking spoiled.”

“Don’t listen to him, angel. You deserve to be spoiled, to be-”

Another bout of hysterical laughter left you, and eventually they joined in.

Finally, you gained some control of yourself, and tried to hold a conversation.

“I’m so happy you both chose to stay with me.”

You stopped them both from speaking at the same time, realizing that it would be difficult to get much done with all three of you in a room.

“We definitely need to keep checking in, and figuring out boundaries. I don’t think my brain is up for that today though.”

“What are you up for, my dear?”

“Mm, I like this,” you sighed, rocking back and forth against each of their sides.

You caught Zoro rolling his eyes, and you stuck your tongue out at him.

“What about you guys? Your needs matter too here. What do you need?”

Neither spoke for a minute, and you played with your spoon.

“I guess, um…”

You looked up at Zoro, desperate to hear him actually express his fucking needs.

“How do we figure out time for just us?”

He said those words softly, and you knew how huge it was that he hadn’t said it with anger or frustration. You smiled up at him, then at Sanji who seemed to be waiting with rapt attention.

“Well, we can always check in, and change things if the system isn’t working out. But how about for now we stick to alternating days? Not just for sex, but for our time together?”

They both nodded, Zoro slowly, and Sanji with an eager smile. You squeezed both of their knees before reaching for the last of your mimosa.

You sat back, and they both tilted to see you better. You fought more laughter at what a lovely pair they made.

“Y/N, dear-” “So who-”

They glared at each other, until Sanji did a small mock bow to let Zoro go first.

Zoro’s mouth twitched as he looked away from both of you before continuing. He didn’t meet your gaze when he finished his question.

“Who’s turn is it?”

Your lips parted, and you watched them both look guilty while they waited for you.

This is crazy. How did I manage this?

Zoro cleared his throat, leaning with his elbows over the table.

“Yesterday was supposed to be my day.”

“Technically we didn’t finish my day before that.”

“You’re really gonna pressure her ab-” “You’re the one that’s pressuring her Mari-”

“Technically today was supposed to be Robin’s day.”

Your words shut them both up, and it took way too much effort to hold in your satisfied smile at their expressions.

Zoro looked shocked again, as if he’d blocked that out of his mind. Sanji’s fists had clenched, and you could see the veins in his neck and face throbbing as he turned bright red.

You couldn’t help it. A small laugh escaped you.

“Don’t worry, Robin and I decided to wait on our date until things are settled.”

You could have sworn you heard a tiny whimper from Sanji’s throat.

“How about we start things fresh with a coin toss?”

They both reached for a coin and threw them in the air, calling out the choice. You laughed as they both lost their own tosses.

“Let me do it.”

You’d grabbed Zoro’s coin, and tried to mimic them. You kept throwing it onto the table, or failing to catch it. The coin would drop on your lap, both of them reaching for your thighs to grab it for you, growling as their hands touched.

“Gods, can you guys just agree on which one of you tosses the coin? Pretty please?”

Sanji ended up giving in to your wishes again first, letting the swordsman toss. Then Zoro swore as the coin fell in Sanji’s favor. Sanji kissed your cheek while Zoro left the table after rubbing along your shoulders.

“See ya later, Needy.”

“Wait!”

You rushed over to your surly crewmate. The man who had walked in on you in the shower, and declared that you should fuck. You laughed softly at how crazy your life had been since that moment. And you couldn’t be more grateful for it if you tried.

“What,” he asked, his brows tensing as you laughed.

“It’s nothing,” you whispered, standing on tip toes in a silent request for a kiss.

His look of surprise deepened your smile, and he gripped the hair at the back of your neck when he pulled you to his lips.

A soft cough sounded behind you, and Zoro hummed as he pulled away to smirk at the cook. You nudged him out the door.

Turning around, you saw his eyes wide, waiting. You leaned toward him, feeling his soft lips kiss the corners of your mouth before pulling you into his arms to breathe along your ear.

“All to myself?”

Sanji’s raspy voice made you moan, your body still so ready even with all that had happened. You almost felt high, like all the emotions had left your body buzzing.

You looked up into his soft eyes, watching his lips part when he noticed how heavy your breaths were.

“D-Darling. I didn’t mean… Let me-”

He froze when you gripped his arms to keep him from pulling away.

“I want all sorts of lovely moments with you, Sanji, and I know we’re going to have them.”

The sweet smile that bloomed on his face made your heart dance in your chest for a moment, and you had to take a deep breath.

“I don’t want you to feel bad if we start today where we left off.”

You let heat fill your eyes as you wet your lips. Sanji’s eyes seemed to be pulled to your mouth, and you saw his breath hitch.

“A-Are you sure?”

Grinning at him, you nodded as you bit your lip.

He lunged toward your lips again, but you pressed your hands to his chest.

“Maybe we should go to one of our rooms now that everyone knows?”

You gasped as he looked at you like he was about to eat you.

“That’s too far, sweetheart. How about I take you in the pantry?”

You’d barely breathed out your ‘yes,’ before he lifted you into the air. He pulled you so fast, but still managed to grip you in a way that was comfortable. Your arms and legs wrapped around him, and he groaned while you kissed and licked along his neck.

Setting you gently in the walk in pantry, he held your face while he kissed you before rushing out. You tilted your head after him, but moaned when he returned with a condom and lube. Memories of your first time with him, and the sting and pleasure of his thick cock pulsed through you. Your eyes fell back in your head, and he gave a satisfied chuckle as he turned on the small light before closing the door.

“My sweet, Y/N… How can I show you how special you are to me?”

“You can tell me all the filthy things you want to do to me.”

You pulled your panties off from under your skirt and threw them at his chest.

Sanji had to catch himself against the wall as he moaned, almost dropping the lube.

He already looked wrecked when he met your eyes, and it drove you crazy.

“What do you want to do to me, Sanji?”

He was panting as he watched you pull your skirt up, so slowly. You took the condom and lube from him, and set them on a shelf.

Skin on fire, you didn’t know what had gotten into you. But you wanted him now, and you couldn’t stop yourself. You pressed yourself against his chest, looking into his blown out eyes. Both of you cried out when you dragged your hand along his length, already so fucking hard.

“Sanji, I asked you a question.”

Your words came out soft and dark. You watched his eyes flutter, and you wanted to speed him up. Taking his hand in yours, you whispered his name before pressing his fingers into your wet folds.

He moaned so loud, and your knees went weak. He had to catch you, then he pressed you against the wall, shoving two fingers into you.

“You are so fucking perfect. My sweet, dirty angel.”

Crying out at his praise, your body started shaking for him.

“P-Please, Sanji.”

He rutted against your thigh when you begged, and the feel of his clothed shaft rubbing against you made you whimper.

“I can’t believe you’re letting me do this to you. Such a beautiful, lovely girl. And you’re letting me touch you like this, where anyone could find us.”

He moaned into your ear, breathing in the scent of your hair.

You cried out his name, already feeling on the edge, ready.

“So gorgeous. Let me take care of you, angel. Let me make you feel good.”

“Yes, Sanji, please.”

He fell to his knees with a moan, tasting your needy cunt with that skilled tongue. His two fingers kept up their work while he swirled his tongue ring around your clit.

You had already started shaking before he plunged that third finger into you, and then you were gone. You shoved your own fist into your teeth, and panted as you bucked against Sanji’s face, coming on his tongue.

He licked you up like he was dying of thirst, while his three fingers kept prepping you.

He looked up at you, face glistening in the small light.

“You taste divine, my sweet.”

You moaned as his fingers kept working you.

“It’s probably time for me to prep for lunch, darling.”

You whined, grinding on his fingers.

He groaned, then checked his watch.

“Please Sanji. We’ll have so many more times to play for longer. Please fuck me against the wall right now. I know how much your perverted mind wants you to.”

You moaned as Sanji’s hand twitched inside you, his head falling back as he moaned.

“Please Sanji, I know you’ll take good care of me. Please, please fuck me now. I know you’d love it if someone caught us.”

He fell forward, mouth hanging open as his face pressed against your hip.

He was still taking too long.

You gripped your fingers into his hair, and pulled his face to yours.

“Sanji, are you going to make me beg?”

You watched his eyes harden, and cried out as his long fingers worked you with even more strength.

“A lady always gets what she wants in my kitchen.”

You moaned his name as he stood, kissing his way up your neck.

His fingers left you, and you clung to the wall as you watched him free his cock from his slacks before dragging the condom and lube down his length.

He came toward you, and lifted your leg so that your foot rested on a low shelf. His hands trailed along your neck, then your thighs. Your back arched as he teased his shaft along your entrance, the size of him so warm against you.

“I can’t believe how lucky I am.”

His whispers against your cheek while he dragged his tip along your clit made you shiver for him.

“To have such an exquisite beauty, coming on my face in the pantry.”

You cried out, clawing at his shoulders.

He slapped his thick cock against your entrance a few times while you moaned for him.

“To have such a gorgeous pussy, aching for me to fill it.”

“Fuck, Sanji, please!”

“Of course, darling.”

Biting your lip, your head fell back as you felt him against your center. Not even pressed into you, and your body was readying.

“That’s good, angel. Breathe for me. You know I’ll take care of you.”

You moaned for him, scratching your nails down his striped shirt as he pushed into you, so slowly.

“Gods, Sanji-”

“Shh, darling. Just breathe, and take me, baby. I know you can, you’re so perfect for me.”

Your pussy clenched around him, and he thrust the rest of the way in as he moaned.

“Sweetheart, you okay?”

“Y-Yes, Sanji.”

“Good girl… So perfect.”

As Sanji’s thick cock started pumping into you, slowly, then faster and faster, you forgot where you were, who you were. Just the sharp pain and pleasure of him inside you, and his endless, delectable words were all that held you to reality. His breath was hot on your face and neck as he panted his praise along your skin.

“Y/N, your pussy is fucking heavenly, baby. Fuck. Just like that, I feel you squeezing me so hard. You want my cock inside you, don’t you angel. You want me to make you feel so good, to take care of my perfect girl.”

“Yes, Sanji. Please take care of me.”

He moaned at that, shoving into you, thrusts becoming staggered. He reached down, massaging your clit while you gasped.

“So soft, so good for me…There you go darling- fuck, yes Y/N, milk my cock like a good girl- fuck-”

Sanji came into you with whimpered moans while you shattered around him. He had to hold your slumped body up, gingerly removing himself from you while you cried out.

You whimpered as he pressed soft kisses to your face, before reaching for your panties on the floor. He gave you a satisfied smile as he used them to wipe you clean, before using them to clean himself off after removing that very full condom.

You moaned while you watched him rub your panties on his cock, his eyes heavy lidded even after what you’d just done.

“You’re gonna need to buy me some new panties if you keep taking all of mine.”

His breath came out heavy as he smiled.

“Oh I plan on buying you so many special gifts, my sweet.”

Miraculously, you made it out of the pantry with time to spare, even rushing for a quick shower before heading back to lunch.

Even though it was Sanji’s day, it looked like meals were going to stay a shared time. You sighed as you leaned against Zoro, dampening his shirt with your still wet hair.

“Y/N, do you know if we still have any yarrow? I remember you said it can be used to staunch bleeding, and I’d like to keep some on hand if we run out of our other supplies.”

“Y-Yes Chopper. I believe we do, but I’ll check after lunch.”

I really should get back to work at some point.

But with Zoro’s warmth at your side, and Sanji’s wink while he started on dishes, you weren't sure how you were going to do that.

Especially when you met Robin’s deep blue eyes, and saw her lips curve in that teasing smile.

Who knows the next time we’ll be in danger again? I should enjoy this bliss for as long as I can.

Your selfish little smile at that thought felt oh so good.

I guess I really am Needy after all.

Thank you for reading! 💜

TurtleTaub Fanfic Masterlist

Part 10

Tag List: @astheni-a | @ferns-fics | @heilee | @iamn1ya | @ghostfacefricker6969

A/N: Thank you for reading! Let me know what you think about where things have landed! I know I've been posting daily updates, but I'm visiting family for the next few days so it might be a couple days until the next one. Unless I get bored, I will be bringing a tablet and keyboard with me 😅

Buy me a coffee ☕🙏🏼

#One Piece smut #Reader Insert #Fem!Reader #Smut #mine #Opla smut #zoro smut #zoro x reader #opla zoro x reader #zoro x you #zoro fanfic #zoro fanfiction #sanji smut #sanji x reader #sanji fanfiction #sanji fanfic #x reader #turtletaub fics

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hollybell51 · 2 years

Note

can you post newt x female reader smut? i had a look at your wattpad and noticed that you already had some but it's in the old style (i'm assuming it's your old style) and i really like how you write now (the stuff you post on here). obv only if you're comfortable with it, btw i love your work!

First of all, I'm glad you like my stuff! Secondly, I sure can! I've got some brand new things I cooked up a while back, and I would be delighted to share the love xxx

Just like that

Series masterlist, masterpost

Newt x fem!Reader

Maze Runner (2009 novel - James Dashner, 2014 film - Wes Ball)

Word count: 2318

Summary: shameless Newt smut. Enjoy.

Content: smut. Porn with like the tiniest hint of a plot. Friends with benefits type beat. Making out, blowjobs, hickeys, light praise kink (kind of), light dirty talk, masturbation (kind of), hair pulling (reader is the puller), cowgirl position (sort of??? Idk??), al fresco lol

Notes: I’m so sorry I have no idea how to tag this stuff. Literally what’s in “content” is in it, there might be stuff that I forgot so I apologise but it’s basically just what you’d expect from smut (I’m pretty basic)

You were kissing Newt. Or maybe Newt was kissing you, since he’d started the whole thing when he had put down the now empty cup of hot tea the two of you had been sharing, sheltered behind the partially rotted corpse of a massive tree, and taken your chin between his strong fingers, turned you to face him, then very deliberately pressed his lips against your own. You’d just smiled and let him, giving as good as you got. He still tasted like the drink, the sweetness of the honey you’d insisted on adding coating his mouth. And so it was that you came to be locked in a soft embrace now, with your movements lazy and relaxed as you took your sweet time exploring each other.

It wasn’t an uncommon occurrence; you liked Newt and he liked you, and both knew it. It was nice to have a sort of outlet every now and then, someone who you didn’t have to pretend to be anything other than yourself around, and who didn’t pretend around you. And that’s what Newt was, and what he had been for some time, ever since a few months ago when the two of you had found yourself drunkenly making out behind the homestead while the other Gladers enjoyed a bonfire.

Now, Newt’s hand had found its way to your breast, tracing circles over the material of your shirt and making your skin prickle. You traced a line along his jaw, your finger trailing down his neck to rest on his shoulder. You shifted yourself slightly, angling your body further towards him to ease the suggestion of a stiffness threatening to grow in your neck if you kept up your current position much longer. Newt’s mouth was still soft on yours, his tongue stroking your own lazily, but something about him was saying that he wanted more – or would soon.

“Do you want me to suck you off?” you asked, breaking the kiss. The two of you had decided a while back that being open and up front was the way to go – “candid,” Newt had stated solemnly, and you’d agreed.

He seemed to consider for a moment, then glanced around to check for anyone in the immediate vicinity. The fallen tree trunk you were sitting against wasn’t all that deep into the deadheads, and while it was huge and had served as an excellent shelter numerous times before, it never hurt to be careful. It wasn’t that either of you were ashamed of your standing with the other – your “situationship” you jokingly called it – it was just that it would be awkward to get caught.

Now, Newt smiled at you and nodded. “Yeah,” he said, placing another gentle kiss on your lips.

You returned the smile, slipping your hand under the waistband of his pants, massaging his cock gently. You felt him grow hard, and when you were satisfied, you deftly unzipped his pants. You smiled again, spitting into your palm and resuming your light ministrations.

Newt raised his eyebrows, clearing his throat. “Love, that’s wonderful, but quit teasing.”

“Magic word?” you grinned.

Your friend sighed, rolling his eyes. “Please,” he huffed.

You nodded, licking your lips before gently kissing the tip of his dick and lowering your mouth over the head. Newt gave a tiny moan – well, something between a sigh and a moan – and moved his hand to your hair, his fingers tracing patterns gently over your scalp. You really liked giving blowjobs to Newt; he was always so gentle and considerate, and it never even felt like you were “giving” him anything. Sure, his dick was in your mouth, but it was more like something you were doing with him, something nice and fun and extremely gratifying. Especially when he talked to you, which he was doing now.

“That’s it love,” he murmured as you swirled your tongue around him, your hands working what wasn’t already in your mouth. “God, you’re good at this.”

The praise lit a warm glow inside you, and you sank your head lower. Newt’s breath caught in his throat as you hollowed your cheeks, the tip of his dick now almost touching the back of your throat with every bob of your head, your hand still taking care of the base. It was as slow and laid back as your kisses had been just minutes before, and you loved every second.

You continued like that, basking in Newt’s grunts of “yes” and “fuck” and the occasional “God, (Y/N)” before his fingers slid from your hair to under your chin, prompting you to stop. You released him with a wet sort of “pop” sound, licking your lips delicately while still holding his throbbing cock in one hand. His cheeks were flushed, his eyes bright as he looked at you. Your own face was warm, matching the not entirely unpleasant heat you’d felt building between your legs.

“Take your pants off and come here.” He patted his lap, kicking his own pants further down his legs.

You grinned. “Is that an order or an invitation?”

“An invitation, since you never do anything I order.”

“It’s cause you never say please,” you deadpanned as you shuffled out of your pants, discarding them and your underwear to one side. You swung a leg over Newt’s hips, straddling him, and placed your hands either side of his face. “How’s this?”

“Yeah, not bad,” he nodded, his own hands easing your shirt upwards. You let him, lifting your arms obediently as he slipped the piece of fabric over your head and sent it the way of your pants. He kissed along the line of your bra, then, watching your face carefully, reached around and undid the clasp. He caressed your breasts softly, sweetly, and slowly. That really did seem to be the theme of the day.

“Hey,” you said after a moment when he made no move to take his own shirt off, your hand coming to rest over his. “How come I’m naked and you’re not?”

He shrugged, twisting his hand to entwine his fingers with yours.

“Hardly seems fair,” you breathed, sliding your hips over his.

Newt’s breath caught in his throat once more, and he rolled his eyes at you. “If you insist.”

“I certainly do.” You pushed his shirt up, pulling it deftly over his head and tossing it to the side before laying your palms against his warm skin. You knew there were things Newt liked more than his own body, but you’d never really understood why. Sure, he was skinnier than some of the other boys, and his leg was a continuous chip on his shoulder, but you thought he was hotter than anyone you could name off the top of your head and you made sure he was aware of the fact.

In fact, the first time he’d expressed anything resembling insecurity, you’d been watching him get dressed after a night well spent, idly pondering how perfectly formed he was, how smooth and seamless every movement was even with the addition of his limp. You’d been so caught up in watching the dance of his lithe muscles under his skin that you hadn’t even noticed the apprehensive look on his face as he turned away from you.

“Can you… not watch me?” he’d asked hesitantly as he pulled on his shirt.

“Huh?” you’d frowned, sitting up.

“You were staring, can you not do it?”

“Oh.” You’d felt your face colour and had looked away, embarrassed. “Sorry.”

“‘Sfine,” he’d said.

You’d asked why, hesitantly and as politely as you could. You just couldn’t work out why this boy, who was totally comfortable making you plead his name as your thighs squeezed around his shoulders and your fingers pulled his hair enough to make him moan (which was how you’d found out he liked his hair being pulled, but that was a story for another time), couldn’t deal with you watching him get dressed.

He’d shrugged, then turned around and spoken directly to the wall beside your head. “I don’t really like how I look.”

You were baffled to say the least, and had very nearly burst out laughing. “But you’re so…” you’d said instead, stumbling for the right words. “You’re so hot,” you’d blurted at last.

Newt had shrugged again, bending to lace up his boots. “Maybe to you.”

After that, you’d taken every opportunity – ones that weren’t too obvious, of course – to subtly express just how attractive you thought he was. From outright whispers of “fuck, you’re hot” mid tryst to casually proclaiming him gorgeous in the middle of a conversation, you really did take any chance that presented itself. And now was no different.

“Damn,” you smiled, bending to place a kiss on his collar bone. “You’re fucking sexy, you know that?”

“Look who’s talking,” he scoffed, but you caught the tiny upward twitch of his mouth. He brought your hand to his face, gently kissing your knuckles. You let a sigh escape you, rocking your hips over his once more. He was hot against you and the sun, now beginning to sink below the walls, caught in his hair, lighting it up in gold like some kind of halo. You’d hardly have been surprised if he sprouted wings right then and there.

“Quit teasing, (Y/N),” he half laughed, half growled. Then added “please” almost as an afterthought.

“Since you asked so nicely,” you smiled, the hand that wasn’t being held by him sliding down over his chest, his stomach, finally coming to rest on his dick once more. You carefully lined him up, and at his nod, sank gently onto his length.

You didn’t move right away, shifting your hands to the log either side of Newt’s head to steady yourself as you let yourself adjust. You rocked experimentally, earning a soft sigh and whispered “yes” from the boy under you.

“Just like that,” he murmured as you moved again. Another thing about Newt that you’d learnt was that he liked when you rode him like this, liked guiding your hips over his while showering you with kisses – and the odd hickey. He was doing it now, his hands gentle yet firm where they slid over the skin of your thighs and hips and waist, his mouth warm and silken where it roamed your chest and neck.

“Fuck, Newt,” you breathed, letting your fingers tangle in his hair. You didn’t pull it as such, just hinted at it. Still, Newt’s breath hissed between his teeth and he looked up at you from a particularly dark hickey at the curve where your neck met your shoulder, his eyes dark. You gave his hair the gentlest tug, tipping his head back and kissing his lips, his jaw, and down his throat.

Newt’s eyes were closed now, his breath shallow as you ran one hand down over his front, fingers skimming the subtle planes of muscle as a leaf skims the surface of a puddle. You kissed him again, slowly, your mouths melding perfectly together.

“Touch yourself,” he murmured against your lips. “I want you to cum.”

“I wanna make you cum,” you replied. It was true, you loved nothing more than watching Newt unravel because of you and only you, even if it was both of you doing the work.

He shrugged. “And I want you to get yourself off riding my dick, I want to watch you.”

“Ok.” You kissed him again, then slid the hand that wasn’t still tangled his hair down your own body to the heat between your legs. You bit your lip as your fingertips grazed your clit, stifling a moan.

“Don’t keep quiet,” Newt urged. “I wanna hear you too.”

God, this boy, you thought as you let yourself whisper a curse. Did he have any idea what he was doing to you? He probably did, actually, you reflected as your fingers rubbed tiny circles over your clit. You leant forwards to get a better angle, your chest brushing against Newt’s and your face inches from his own. He was watching you, his attention fixed only on you. You felt yourself twitch and your muscles began to tense as you found the perfect spot, the moans you let escape growing in frequency and volume.

“Move me,” you choked as you felt yourself teetering on the brink of your climax, every fibre of your being pulled taught.

Newt nodded, rocking your hips over his as your fingers continued their motion and you hung, suspended for a second before everything came crashing in on you.

“Fuck, Newt, oh my god,” you groaned as the orgasm flooded over you. You were dimly aware of him moaning your name and realised that your hand had tightened in his hair and that he was still moving you. “Keep going,” you sighed, cupping his face with one hand while the other continued to card through his hair, pulling occasionally.

“Mm, (Y/N) oh–” he broke off and you gave the handful of hair you had a firm pull, now taking over your own movements as he released inside you, bliss flooding his face.

You continued to slide your hips over his until your legs had ceased to shake and a little of the haziness had gone from Newt’s face, settling comfortably onto his lap. Wordlessly, you placed a soft kiss on his forehead, brushing the hair from his face and tracing patterns over his cheeks and neck, all the way down to his chest. He smiled at you, bending to sooth the dark marks he’d left on your skin with kisses of his own, holding you close against him.

“I love this,” he said at last.

You tilted your head to the side, nonplussed. “Having sex with me?”

He considered, nodded, then, “being with you.”

“I love being with you too,” you whispered as you kissed him again.

#Maze Runner #the maze runner #newt maze runner #tmr #tmr fanfiction #tmr fic #newt #newt x reader #fanfiction #fanfic #self insert fanfiction #maze runner fanfiction #reader insert #fem!reader #smut #maze runner smut

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the-ace-with-spades · 5 months

Text

little snippet from a buddie outsider pov future fic that i probably won't ever finish because its part 3 of a series, or aka the Bobby-fication of Buck

"I was told to report to Captain Diaz?"

The man, with Diaz clearly written on his name tag, stares. It's not the most friendly of stares but it's not that kind of a stare and Kori had his fair share of them as a brown boy who consistently used public transport and worked night shifts. He'd expected to have a welcome that wasn't the warmest but he at least wanted some kind of verbal acknowledgment.

Well, this is awkward, he thinks, why is he not saying anything?

Kori woke up bright and early today, excited and anxious for his first day, over an hour before his alarm started blasting, and then made sure he had his bag packed with all the essentials he would need on a twenty-four shift. Four different sets of clothes, five meals in Tupperware, protein bars, a book, headphones, towel, shampoo and shower gel, the basic firefighting manual from the academy and his paramedic textbooks. He prepared to be too prepared rather than embarrass himself by asking to borrow shampoo on his first day.

He arrived at the firehouse via Uber because public transport in LA couldn't be reliable and he also couldn't afford a car and then he had stood panicked on the side of the truck bay for about fifteen minutes before checking his email again for the right names — Captain Diaz, 118 Ladder Company — all along to the schedule in his head.

And now the guy, he's just—standing there. Staring at Kori like he's debating whether he should eat him alive or roast in the oven beforehand.

The thing is, Kori knows he’s disappointing for a firefighter. He’s barely five foot seven, five foot six without the boots, really, and he’s lean and slim, in a way that would make some people doubt whether he can carry a person out of a burning building — he can — and he’s, well, he’s average.

But the One-Eighteen is stuck with him for the year, he might be average and disappointing, it just doesn’t matter. Because they are stuck with him.

He still hasn’t seen Firefighter Buckley.

"Are you Captain Diaz?"

He looks a bit young, for a captain, but he is pretty sure there have been younger ones in the history of LAFD. And Diaz is a common surname, in California, or common enough that it wouldn’t be impossible to have two people with it in the firehouse even if still a bit improbable.

"Oh," he says, looking down at the nametag on his chest, finally noticing where Kori's been glancing at the whole time. "Sorry, kid, that would be my husband. I'm Lieutenant Paramedic Diaz."

Kori, he must admit to himself, blinks at him like he had just spoken in Mandarin and not English. Because there are two Diazes in the firehouse. And both of them are his officers. And they’re married.

The—The lieutenant crosses his arms over his chest, puffing up like a peacock, and narrows his eyes. “Do we have a problem?”

“No, sir,” he says, immediately. “I didn’t know they allowed married couples to work together, that’s all.”

The lieutenant still looks at him like he's trying to assess the deepest secrets of his soul and raises one eyebrow at him like he expects a fight but his shoulders fall slightly. He's, uhm, very handsome, even this angry, in that foxy dad kind of way that Kori's never been interested in but knew it was a thing.

"My husband and I worked together for seven years before we married, I think we've proved we can stay professional," he says and it sounds a bit like a threat. "He's in the office downstairs. You should report to him before you're late to your first shift."

He smiles but Kori has a feeling it's a mean smile.

Kori does go back downstairs, passes the rest of the loft and walks past the kitchen where he sees three other firefighters, quietly eating breakfast. The conversation stops and they all collectively look up at him. He probably should say something or wave or anything so it's not awkward but no, he just speed-walks into the narrow corridor that — he hopes — leads to the offices.

He passes two doors before he finds the right one. There is a brand new plate hanging on the side of it, shiny and not dusty at all, with Capt. Diaz and Lt. Diaz written on it and the door is wide open — someone is in the closet in the back, from what it seems, going over documents or something that makes a similar rustling sound. Kori moves into the doorframe, going for a knock, when he realizes.

There's no door. Nothing, just an empty door frame with taped down hinges. There's no way for him to knock.

He clears his throat as loudly as he can.

There are two desks inside, one with a brand new plate of Capt. Diaz and one with slightly less shiny Lt Diaz on it. It looks like any other office, slightly bare on the shelves but also full of diplomas and official pictures of past officers hanging on the walls. There's also a framed drawing made by an elementary school kid, or Kori guessed it was an elementary school kid, of a firefighter in bunker gear, dead center on the wall behind the captain's desk, and a couple of photos of what he assumes is the station's crew, all in their dress uniforms — he can't see it very well.

The captain's desk is full, with another frame standing on the edge, three pencil holders filled to the brim, multiple kinds of colorful stationery, and stacks of documents and folders cluttering the countertop. There's even a freaking fidget spinner on it — he hasn't seen one since freshman year in high school. It's a mess but Kori knows that even being a probationary firefighter would mean way too much paperwork for a job that was technically blue collar. The new captain wasn't just a new captain, he was also newly-qualified to be a captain so Kori suspects he probably is barely keeping up with the forms and documents as of right now — it's a learning curve.

The lieutenant's desk also holds a couple of frames but there's only a small pencil case and a neatly arranged stack of folders lying in an even more neatly arranged corner.

And wow. That's Firefighter Buckley, even more awe-inspiring than he was eleven years ago

He looks at Kori with a half-smile stuck on his face but with a frown on his forehead. There are wrinkles around his eyes, forming like laughter lines. He tilts his head and Kori thinks—Kori thinks this is it, he remembers me, he—

"Khorshed Patwari, was it?" he asks and his grin looks the same, almost — there’s more wrinkles, around his eyes and on his forehead, and his face seems a bit softer, but it’s like a memory refresher. "Am I pronouncing it right?"

It's stupid — Firefighter Buckley saved probably hundreds if not thousands of people, he's been a firefighter for at least twelve years, probably, and Kori is just one of those faces he had seen for a minute or two. Easily forgotten. Average. It's understandable that he doesn't remember him, he would probably be more surprised if he did remember him.

"Everyone calls me Kori," he says, after clearing his throat. He knows he’s gaping like a fish, a bit, but he can’t help it — Firefighter Buckly looks almost unchanged and he can’t believe he’s here.

"With the h?"

He blinks. "Sorry?"

"Do you keep the h in Kori?" he clarified, huffing a small chuckle out. "I want to know how to spell it correctly in the future."

"Just Kori, uhm, K-O-R-I, is okay," he explains, still star-struck.

"Uhm," he says eloquently. "I'm looking for Captain Diaz? I was supposed to report to him?"

"That would be me," Firefighter Buckley says and—Oh. He’s a captain and he’s—he’s married to a man that’s the station's lieutenant. He's not really Firefighter Buckley anymore, is he? "Although most people just call me Buck, or Cap, if you really must."

#yes bobby took out the door to the office before he retired so buck and eddie wouldn't do the nasty in there #im saying goodbye to drafts that turned from wips into ufos #buddie #911 fox #911 abc #op #charlie writes

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