#I WAS GOING TO SLEEP IT'S THREE O'CLOCK | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

reiderwriter · 28 days

Note

hii I absolutely love your writing!! I was wondering if you could write a one shot with gun kink? maybe not really something *aggressive* but just gun kink in the plot !! and please smut with no angst, also maybe aftercare in the end? it's totally okay if you're not comfortable. im loving your kinktober one shots! have a good day :)

A/N: This being one of like... three gun kink requests I've received, we are all not seeing the pearly gates lmao. If you enjoy reading this, even 50% of how much I enjoyed writing it, then I'm happy 😚

Warnings: Undercover FBI Agent reader, gun kink, interrogation room sex, oral (f receiving), unprotected sex, creampie, some BDSM themes, Spencer has to 'rough up' the reader etc.

Masterlist

Being rough-housed by a group of FBI agents and pushed against a wall before being handcuffed was never your idea of a fun Tuesday night. It wasn't exactly high on the list for any night of the week, really, but here you were.

“Caitlyn Grant? You're under arrest for being an accessory to a felony and evading law enforcement, whatever you say…” You drowned out the rest of the statement. It was nothing you didn't have memorized.

“You're not the usual drug crew, and you don't look sturdy enough to be on most of the other teams either. What part of the Bureau are you in?” You asked the lanky man currently pinning you to the wall as he made sure your handcuffs were aptly tight.

“You have the right to an attorney, if you can't afford one-”

“I waive my rights. It's not human trafficking. You wouldn't be working this case if you were human trafficking.”

The man just stared at you in vague disapproval as you grinned back at him. His closeness meant you could see every detail of his face up close, the five o'clock shadow, the dark circles from lack of sleep. On most of the agents you'd encountered, it had the effect of making them look older, a little haggard, and depressed. On this man, it was honestly very hot.

He started your pat down by spreading your legs, though honestly, if he'd asked nicely enough, you'd have done just that for him. You near enough told him just that as he reached the two pockets on the ass of your jeans.

“Watch it, Agent, my bite is worse than my bark.”

“Turn around.”

You pouted at his solid resolve, wondering what it would take to get the man to crack a smile or even a frown. Something that wasn't just disinterest slapped on a face and called a day.

You did as he asked, making sure your body pressed nicely up against his the entire way until your shoulders were resting on the wall and he was feeling along your waist.

“Come on, what kind of weapon are you going to find there?”

“Standard protocol, please let me do my job.”

“Standard protocol is calling one of your female agents over here to maintain the boundary, Agent. This feels more like you're just trying to cop a feel.”

Those words finally got a reaction. The subtle clench of the jaw as his hands tightened slightly on your waist had you suddenly regretting your decision to be put in handcuffs. Your hands should've been free to tuck the stray lock of hair that had fallen in his eyes behind his ear, free so your fingernails could trace a path down his face and neck and chest.

His gaze landed on the simple silver chain you wore around your list and he delicately pulled it out of your shirt, careful not to touch you (and avoiding you even as you arched your back into him).

With a quick tug, he pulled the necklace clean off your neck, not pausing to bother with the clasp at all.

“Clever boy. I'll see you in the interrogation room, shall I?” He said nothing as the female agents you'd mentioned earlier stationed themselves on either side of you as you walked away. You didn't break eye contact until the doors to the police van closed behind you.

Six months undercover on a case, and this was the first time you'd stepped foot in a police precinct since you'd ditched your real name and life.

The interrogation rooms hadn't changed in that time, at least, still grey and depressing. Time felt void as you waited for company, and thankfully, you weren't waiting long.

“Agent Y/N, sorry about the arrest, we wanted to make it look as real as possible while pulling you out.” The woman who greeted you obviously held the authority, and while you wanted to respect that, the sight of the man trailing behind her actually caught her full attention.

“Pleasure to meet you….?” You let the question hang open for both of them but kept your gaze fully focused on the man, who stood himself next to the door, keeping surprisingly quiet.

“I'm Unit Chief Emily Prentiss, this is Doctor Spencer Reid, we're from the-”

“Behavioural Analysis Unit, of course. I was close, you know, earlier. A face like yours wouldn't last five minutes in cartel land. I almost guessed cyber, but you looked a bit too bookish. Doctor Reid, hmm.”

“This interview is taking place with Agent Prentiss. Please direct all your questions to her.”

“Oh shit, sorry, where are my manners. I didn't mean to disrespect you like that, Agent Prentiss. It's just been a long few months.”

The other woman just chuckled and shook her head, leafing through some documents to pass you over the information on the case they needed assistance on.

“We think there's a serial killer in the drug ring you infiltrated,” the woman explained, passing over the files with the case details. You took a moment's breath before opening to the crime scene photos, steeling yourself for what you might encounter.

“There are probably a lot of serials in the organization. It's a drug ring. What makes this one worse?” You said, just as you flipped the file open and answered your own question.

“Shit- Okay, that's what makes this one worse. He can't be more than 15, right?”

The answering grimace on the two agents' faces suggested you'd been generous in your estimate. “Okay, how can I help?”

xxxxx

A few hours passed in the interrogation room, and you'd walked them through all of your up to date information on your case and cover. The chair wasn't exactly comfortable, but you were glad to be finally seeing the light at the end of the tunnel. The interview was ending, and you could see an end to your undercover work swiftly following too with the BAU's assistance.

You weren't looking forward to having to acclimatize back into the real world. You'd gone from pushing papers at a desk 9 hours a day to rubbing shoulders with drug dealers and junkies, a lot of whom were kids, young people like you who had no other options than the streets and crime.

You made a mental note to give a few warnings to the younger kids on the streets to stay alert and then started getting back into character.

“Thanks again for your help, Agent. We appreciate your time.” Prentiss nodded at you as she gathered the folders, getting ready to leave.

Spencer Reid stood, too, stretching himself out as he rose from the chair, giving you quite the show as your eyes dragged from his face, down his chest and down further still as you appreciated the view.

The last few hours had been strictly professional, and you'd enjoyed bouncing ideas off of him, running through theories. Now, trying to get back into your ‘lusty barmaid’ persona, you thought instead about how much you'd like to bounce on him yourself, possibly while running your hands through his hair.

A girl could dream.

“Hold on a second, I'm still in cover, I can't go back out there looking this pristine, it's too suspicious,” you said, the two agents turning back to you curiously.

“What do you mean?”

“Someone needs to throw me around a little. Rough housing, you know, a few bruises will do it.”

Prentiss looked at you, caught halfway between impressed and amused. The good Doctor however seemed to darken slightly, covering his shock with a tensed jaw.

“She's all yours, Spencer,” Wmily winked at the man, turning the door handle and beginning her exit.

“What? Why?”

“I don't hit women.”

“And I do? Emily, wha-”

But the door to the interrogation room has already closed with a small cackle, and you're already being drawn closer to the man like a moth to a flame.

Turning to face you, you see the shock of the situation on his face before he looks away in a flash, refusing to meet your eyes as he keeps himself close to the door.

“Doctor Reid, I'm not actually a criminal, you know?”

“I thought you wanted one of us to treat you like a criminal now.”

“You make a good point, shall we begin?”

He signed and rubbed his temples as you advanced, letting you get a little bit closer before holding his hands up in surrender.

“Wait, wait, tell me first, what should we be doing?”

You took a deep breath and expelled it, then took the time to think about it.

You would need some visible marks of the FBI's unkindness - wrists red, a bruise or two on your knees, maybe, from falling. The problem was, you couldn't think about how to get the marks without driving yourself insane.

There was a quick and easy way to get tender knees, an even easier way to mark up your neck and chest, but you couldn't figure out how to ask Spencer Reid to do those things without spreading your legs and letting him do whatever he wanted. You weren't sure you wouldn't do that eventually, anyway.

“Let's start with my wrists. You were too generous with the handcuffs earlier - just grab them really tight, pin me against the wall if it helps.”

He nodded and took a hesitant step towards you, thinking for a second, before grabbing one wrist and spinning you around. Before you could even process the action, he had you pinned, chest against the wall, arms above your head.

“Is that okay?” He asked, his grip tight but not bruising yet.

“A little tighter, I want the marks to last a while. Why is my face against the wall?”

He gripped tighter, the pain sending a jolt through your wrists that trailed all the way down to pool between your thighs.

“I thought you'd be less uncomfortable like this.”

“With your dick pushed up against my ass? Yes, Doctor, great decision.”

He let out a cold, quick laugh, leaving you flushed as he pushed your upper body into the wall, too, finally getting to the grip strength he needed to get attention.

“I'm sorry to disappoint, Y/N, but that's my gun,” the words whispered in your ear were the last straw as you shuddered in his grasp, his hands releasing your wrists as he stepped back a little.

You shook out your hands a little, trying to momentarily relive the stiffness in your joints.

He took a few paces to the desk and upholstered his weapon, placing it on the desk before joining you again.

“So you don't get confused again,” he explained at seeing your raised eyebrow.

“Oh so next time, it will be your dick?” You whispered, moving back to the desk and sitting yourself on the edge or it, picking up the gun and studying it for a few minutes.

“Y/N, put it down.”

“Ooh, possessive, are we?” You giggled, aiming it at him for a second before grabbing it by the barrel and holding it back out for him to grab.

“Hold it, point it at me or whatever. Maybe it'll help you rough me up.”

His brow furrowed, but he grabbed it anyway, not immediately slipping it into the holster as he stepped forward.

“What now?” He asked, and you shrugged.

“Whatever feels natural. And looks visible, I guess.”

It took him a few minutes to decide, surveying your body like it was a puzzle. Professionally, of course. You were about to speak up and urge him to get on with it when his hand shot out and wrapped around your throat.

You tried to gasp, but the grip was firm, and boy, was it driving you crazy. Your legs had naturally parted as you sat yourself on the edge of the desk, and he walked into that space now, his free hand still holding the gun.

Your body pushed forward into his, suddenly awash with arousal as your chest heaved with tiny breaths, lungs burning.

“Are you enjoying this, Y/N? Or is it Caitlyn Grant that's enjoying this?”

You felt the gun touch your thigh gently, and you moaned, just as he softened his grip on your throat.

“Answer me, please. This is an interrogation room, after all.”

You met his eyes, checking to see how far he would take this, how far you could push back.

“I'll admit, I'm not against mixing pain and pleasure.”

His gaze flicked down, slowly pushing his gun up the skin of your thigh, raising your skirt with the barrel to catch a quick glimpse of your panties.

“I can tell.”

If it weren't for his grip on you, you'd have lunged for him right then and there. The cool metal against your thigh had you shuddering against him, growing wetter by the minute.

“I read somewhere once that we can't pretend to be someone else without actually becoming them in some small way. You've been a cartel whore for six months, I wonder if this is a lasting effect.”

He was so close now all he needed to do to close the gap was change the angle of his head, but he kept you in place with that gun, pointing up from your pussy, flush against your stomach.

“I'll tell you a secret - the part of me that's aroused right now definitely predates this cover.”

His lips drop to yours, tongue clashing with yours furiously as he grabs the back of your head to angle you better.

Letting his hand drop back to your thigh, he gently coaxed you further open, skirt riding up. Putting down the gym momentarily, he pressed a wandering finger against your pantie-clad pussy, feeling your arousal before he used it to coat his fingers.

A second later and the offending pair of underwear lay discarded on the floor.

“Fuck, Spencer,” you said, gasping for breath as he again picked up the gun.

“You wanted this so badly, didn't you? You've been needing someone to treat you like this for months now. It didn't even have to be me.”

He traced circles on your thigh with the gun, and you twitched, years of training not letting you relax around the weapon and months of sexual frustration, making you desperate for something to touch you.

“Yes, yes, please touch me.”

The hand at your throat slid down to your chest and pushed gently urging you to lie back and let him do whatever he wanted with you. The desk was cold - metal biting at your bare skin - and it only sent more shivers down your spine as he lowered himself to his knees and parted your legs for his tongue.

The first touch was heaven, a state of bliss you'd been without in what felt like forever. His tongue danced across your folds as he tasted every inch of your exposed cunt, grip still strong on the gun pointed now to your chest, pinning you between the machine and the table.

You tried to be as still as possible, to take the pleasure he gave calmly, but you couldn't. You writhed, moaned, chest heaving as you tried to hold off the first orgasm you'd achieved with someone else in probably a year.

Like a man on a mission, Spencer Reid did not care. He gladly suffocated between your thighs as you squeezed them together, wrapping them around his head so you could keep feeling the insurmountable pleasure of his tongue on your pussy.

“Spencer…Spencer, fuck-” you said as he finally pried your legs apart, lifting them just slightly so his tongue could reach further inside of you, curling with each wave of passion. Your hands fisted his hair, desperate for something to ground you to the moment as your pleasure spilt out of you, orgasm jolting through you in tiny sparks of pleasure.

The gun moved first, coming level with your chest as you untangled your fingers from his hair. Spencer stood, wiping his face with the back of his hand as he kept the gun on you.

“I think this turns you on even more. You've been ruined by this cover, Y/N, you're so used to being in danger that you can't even get off without someone threatening you.”

You attempted to scoff, to brush off his words somehow, but his hand was suddenly back around your throat, picking you up off the desk and pulling you instead towards the room's one-way window.

“Look at yourself,” he said, again twisting you around so you were pressed into the wall, wrists above your hair, raising your shirt to expose the cold skin underneath. He ran the barrel across the fresh skin, leaving a field of goosebumps along his path.

“I don't think it would've mattered who came in to rough you up. I think you'd just as happily have convinced Emily to fuck your little pussy raw, right Y/N? As long as there was a gun…”

Your moan was the only response as he used the weapon to spread your legs. You naturally arched your back and kept your hands in place as he holstered the weapon momentarily to unzip his pants and let his cock free.

You couldn't see it, but you saw his reflection in the mirror as he slowly stretched you out with it, mouth dropping in a lustful ‘o’ as he fed his dick to you, hard and thick.

As soon as it was in, the gun came back out, this time to rest against your temple.

“Get yourself off,” his voice was so low it was practically a growl. “Use my cock, and pleasure yourself.”

Your body listened immediately, beginning to move back and forth on his cock as he held himself in place. His moans and groans were all the encouragements you needed, the gun at your temple was just made the pleasure more profound as you approached your release.

But he kept you pinned to the glass, your full range of motion limited, and you whimpered in frustration that you couldn't feel every inch of him.

“If you need something, use your words, Agent.”

“More, need more, please..please,” you gasped, breathing ragged.

The hands at your wrists released, and he fisted a hand into the flesh at your hip, your wrists resting on the glass next to your face as he took over your thrusting.

“Can't even do this anymore, what a spoiled little whore,” he said as his hips began snapping into you, reaching that spot deep inside you as you drooled against the glass, wondering if anyone had just happened to step into that room and what they must think about you.

“Cum for me, Y/N. Cum on my cock,” he said it, and entranced, your body did just that, your orgasm taking the last breath of strength you had as he too plunged himself deeper and stilled there, his cum coating your walls.

Neither of you moved for an eternity, but the first sign of clarity returning was the careful return of the gun to the holster.

Pulling a handkerchief from his pocket, Spencer minimized the mess you made together, cleaning you up as he slipped out of you. Discarding it momentarily on the floor, he pulled your clothes back into position and led you back over to the chairs. Just as he moved to sit you down, though, you turned and wrapped your arms around his waist, pulling him into a hug.

His arms hung suspended for a minute or two before he let them rest on your back, stroking your hair.

“Sorry, it's been… it's been lonely, and I didn't realize how hard it had been until-”

“It's okay. Take your time,” he said, sitting down in the chair and letting you curl up in his lap, burying your head in his neck

“We’ll catch this guy, and then you're out, okay Y/N? We'll come back and get you out soon.”

Lifting your eyes to his, you nodded, pressing your lips to his with a smile as you again worked yourself back into character, regaining your earlier composure and lifting yourself from the man's too comfortable arms.

“Well, Spencer, what do you say we get me back into panties and handcuffs and cut Caitlyn Grant loose?”

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cheriladycl01 · 5 days

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I’d rather take my Whiskey neat - Lando Norris x Whiskey! Reader

Plot: Reader thinks she’s not good for gentle Lando Norris who has a smile bright as the morning and is soft as the rain…

Credit to micksradio

It can't be said I'm an early bird It's ten o'clock before I say a word Baby, I can never tell How do you sleep so well?

You never woke up early, you went to bed never earlier than 2am and were never up before 10am. It was a habit you'd got from university and it carried over into post graduation.

For Lando, he never found it an issue. In his mind you would have the bulk of the day together and everything he needed to do for racing, like his work out of time on the sim he could do when you were sleeping. Sometimes he liked to treat himself and have a lay in with you but for the most part Lando was an early riser.

Some mornings he really just loved watching you sleep... pushing your hair back a little before placing a kiss on your cheek and leaving for his morning run round Monaco.

You on the other hand hated it, but you couldn't help it, going to bed late was just part of your lifestyle now but guilt ate away at you, feeling as though Lando deserved someone better, someone who could cater to him better than you.

Despite you coming to bed, hours later than him he always felt most content when you were there with him, even if he couldn't cuddle into you because you were on your phone, or writing on your laptop he just liked the smell and feeling of your presence on the room.

You keep telling me to live right To go to bed before the daylight But then you wake up for the sunrise You know you don't gotta pretend, baby, now and then

"Come on baby, getting up early isn't bad, it's so good for your mental and physical health and honestly i don't think you'll have these thoughts..." he's chuckle at you, sending you into yet another self-hatred spiral that makes you reconsider everything.

"Baby, you just need to fall asleep earlier, sometimes your still up when i wake up!" he chuckles at you and you'd frown, looking down again. You knew that some nights, on the bad ones that you'd be up until the sunrise, and hadn't yet slept, whereas Lando would be waking up, the golden rays across his gorgeous body.

Don't you just wanna wake up, dark as a lake? Smelling like a bonfire, lost in a haze? If you're drunk on life, babe, I think it's great But while in this world

You were salt, he was sugar. He was the sun and you were the moon and sometimes you worked together beautifully like sweet and salted popcorn, or an eclipse but other times you were at these crossroads that made no sense.

You were an introvert, and Lando could be an introvert too, but that didn't mean he didn't like to go out and party, and ... of course that was great for him and you never stopped him but sometimes when he forced you to come out with him, it felt like you were in a completely different world. All of his friends were ... well they were friends with Lando and while having their own personalities, they werent the opposite to him.

Lando seemed so happy and content with his life, especially when out with friends, maybe it was because it was the only time you could stare and not be caught because there was so much present in bars and clubs he found himself, and you never saw the adoring looks he reserved for you at home when you were both wrapped up in a blanket on the sofa in matching pyjamas.

I think I'll take my whiskey neat My coffee black and my bed at three You're too sweet for me You're too sweet for me

One of the first moments when you realised a start difference between yourself and Lando was when you first went out for drinks win London with him and a few other drivers and their girlfriends.

"And the lady ..." the bartender asks with a smirk after he'd taken Lando's order of just a coke to start off with. Despite having only been together for a month, Lando was pretty protective of your guys relationship and his arm had come around you as the bartender waited.

"Just your house whiskey please, neat" you'd asked and all of his friends stopped their conversations to look round at you. Even the bartender seemed shocked.

"What?" you asked them all wondering if you'd said something offensive or rude.

"Nothing, don't even know how you and this Muppet are together, total opposites" Carlos had laughed before turning back to Rebbeca to continue their conversation.

"Whiskey, Neat? Tough Drink" Max had said before reaching out to hand Kelly her drink.

You'd been confused but that was what had started your thoughts.

Lando Norris, was far too sweet for your ... taste!

But that was according to everyone else. Even though you were the same age as Lando, because of how you spoke and who you'd surrounded yourself with in your earlier life people thought you were already pretty mature, but placing you next to Lando made him look like a kid in a candy store and you as his mother.

Lando Norris was everything you wished you were. Bright, happy, silly, kind ... and some says you felt like you were just Dark, Dispersed, Strict and Bitter.

And you'd convinced yourself you were sucking the life out of Lando Norris.

I aim low, I aim true and the ground's where I go I work late where I'm free from the phone And the job gets done But you worry some, I know

"Come on for once cant we do something spontaneous ... and I don't know out of your comfort zone, like ... not your job" he sighed one day.

He was a little ratty from the complicated previous race weekend that you'd had to miss due to work. And then you'd been working since he'd come back... into the late of the night. But you had deadlines to meet so it wasn't like you really had a choice. People were expecting stuff from you and you weren't going to not deliver.

"Baby, you know i cant. Next week once this is due in!" you'd sighed looking over at him for a split second before looking back at your laptop.

He left, going up to bed ... sad you hadn't come up with him again.

But who wants to live forever, babe? You treat your mouth as if it's Heaven's gate The rest of you like you're the TSA I wish that I could go along, babe, don't get me wrong

The conversation you were about to have with Lando you knew would be the hardest one you ever had.

He was so perfect, and pure and you could see you were slolwy starting to taint that. He'd started to sacrifice his sleep schedule to stay up late with you. He wouldn't hang out with his friends as much as he used to and you hated he was changing himself for you.

It didn't feel like you were with Lando Norris anymore. And that's why you got with him in the first place.

And god you loved him for those attributes.

You know, you're bright as the morning, as soft as the rain Pretty as a vine, as sweet as a grape If you can sit in a barrel, maybe I'll wait Until that day

He was bright, like a morning. Sometimes if it was around 4 or 5am and you'd just finished up with your work you'd purposely wait until the sun started to shine through the blinds just to see his back light up golden and his face smushed against the pillow his soft lips in a pout.

But you ... you were cold like a December Morning, when you would refuse to get out from under the covers and when you did slippers were a must because the cold wooden floors weren't a polite awakening.

He was soft, like a light drizzle along a pagoda where you could sit and listen to the water hit the ground for hours.

And you were a rain-storm, so harsh that when you went out in it the water would sting as it hit you.

He was pretty, so fucking pretty it hurt when you looked at him, pretty as a vine winding up the side of a castle that how flowers spurting from it.

You were the gnarly kind, with thorns that wrapped around and antient tree that looked like it was strangling the air from it.

Lando most of all was sweet, sweet like a grape when you bite into it and it has the crisp outer layer before the sweet juices explode in your mouth.

But you were like a crushed grape being made into fine wine, maybe a dry like a Cabernet Sauvignon.

And you would wait for him, maybe when he was a little older, more mature and maybe it was you who was destined to taint him and turn him into that bitter old man who had experienced the world as you had seen it.

But ... now wasn't the right time.

You would always take your Whiskey neat.

And Lando ...

Well.

He was far too sweet.

Taglist:

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heich0e · 29 days

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tomura tries to sneak out of your apartment one morning before you wake up, because he has to get all the way back to his apartment before his dad shows up to take him to a 9AM yoga class.

god forbid he be forced to explain:

a) why he slept over at an apartment that was not his own to his father (toshinori would be calling wedding venues and asking his assistant to look into your ring size before they'd even made it to the yoga studio)

nor b) the fact that he was going to a fucking yoga class at 9 o'clock in god damn the morning with his dad, to you.

he slips out of your bed soundlessly, moving as carefully as possible not to wake you. it pains him to do it. really, it does. your sheets are warm, and soft, and smell like you. and you're still there resting so peacefully, tucked under them, breathing soundly with your face burrowed into the collar of his hoodie that you'd worn to bed the night before. you look so pretty like this, tomura had spent at least half an hour just staring at you while he was laying next to you in your treacherously comfortable bed, and would have happily spent another hour more doing it.

there are very few forces on earth that could tear tomura out of bed like this, but the mortifying prospect of having to explain to his over-enthusiastic father that he has a girlfriend is certainly one of them.

he creeps out of your room and into the bathroom, splashing some cool water on his face and using the lotion that you keep next to the sink that makes his skin feel so nice. you started buying a bigger bottle lately, now that the two of you are both using it, and you never mentioned it but tomura still noticed when the little tube was replaced by a larger version of the same product. next he reaches for the toothbrush that he's started keeping next to yours, double checking the hour on his phone to make sure he wasn't running out of time.

he contemplates stealing one last peek at you in bed before he leaves, but he knows that if he doesn't leave now he won't have time to change his clothes before his dad shows up outside his place, so he heads straight to your front door once he's done in the washroom.

you're standing in his path before he can get to it.

you've got a blanket wrapped around your shoulders, but he can still see the soft skin of your thighs where the hem of his hoodie hangs peeking out from underneath the edges of it. there's a little frown tugging the corners of your mouth down.

tomura freezes in his tracks.

"going somewhere?" you ask him, your voice quiet and a little bit hoarse from sleep.

oh, fuck.

"morning," he mumbles, a bit nervously, as you pin him in your stare.

"it is," you reply, as though agreeing with him. "early, even. so why are you sneaking out of my apartment like a burglar?"

tomura rakes a hand through his sleep-mussed hair. "i, uh, gotta be somewhere."

"you have to be somewhere?" you repeat, a bit incredulously—like the words don't quite compute. you don't seem mad at all, just thoroughly bewildered by the whole strange situation. "tomu, we went three rounds last night and you're awake before two PM on a weekend. are you okay?"

"'course i'm okay," he rushes to get out, tripping over his words.

"did I like... do something? or is there someone el—"

"are you kidding?" tomura's voice cracks and he wishes the ground would open up and swallow him whole. he reaches out and grabs the edge of the blanket you have wrapped around you, his fingers twisting into it desperately. he knows you can't possibly—can't reasonably—think that he's seeing anybody else when the fact that he even landed someone like you is an honest to god miracle. the kind of underdog success story they make multi-part docuseries on.

tomura groans, shuffling forward and resting his forehead against your shoulder as he snakes his arms underneath the blanket around your frame to hold you close.

"you're being weird, tomu," you say quietly, brushing your fingers through his hair and letting your nails drag lightly against his scalp in that way that makes him want to shiver.

"fuck, I know, I know,"—he buries his face further into the crook of your neck, breathing in shakily—"'m not being sketchy or anything."

"you are," you remark lightly. "it's not that I don't trust you, I'm just confused."

tomura mumbles something, but the words are lost to the skin of your throat.

"what was that?" you ask.

tomura steels his nerve and takes one last long breath buried against your warmth. he pulls away and faces you.

"I have to go to a yoga class with my dad."

he loses his nerve about halfway through his admission, his eyes flickering away from yours to a point on the wall just above your front door, as a violent heat surges through his cheeks.

"a yoga class?"

he knows it sounds ridiculous. it is ridiculous. it may have been more believable to tell you he was going to hook up with someone el—

"why didn't you just say that?" your laughter cuts through his spiralling thoughts like a morning alarm.

his gaze snaps back to you, only to find you smiling softly.

"you... you're not...?" tomura isn't even sure what he's going to say. mad? surprised? convinced he's lying?

"i mean, i've noticed you've been looking kind of toned lately, but honestly i thought it's because we've been fucking so much," you scrunch your nose up a little. "yoga makes sense on both counts, though."

you turn and look across your apartment to the clock hanging on the wall.

"what time's your class?" you ask him, suddenly worried that this impromptu interrogation may have made him late. "i didn't mean to—"

tomura grabs either side of the blanket wrapped around your shoulders and tugs you forward, pressing his mouth to yours while your lips are still parted in speech.

(he doesn't make it to class that morning after all.)

#toshinori in his full lulu fit standing outside of tomura's apartment 25 mins later like: :D where is my beautiful son #shigaraki x reader #shigaraki tomura x reader #bnha drabble #bnha writing #writing #yoga!tomura

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melminli · 4 months

Text

Cold Coffee

pairing: young coriolanus snow x fem. reader

summery - you liked working, and someone else liked you working for them.

word count: 2k+

contains: young president coryo, crack, fluff, secretary reader, coryo being lovesick and shy

You had a routine. A routine that you strictly followed every day and it started with your alarm clock waking you up at 5 o'clock in the morning. The first thing you did was get up and go to the bathroom to wash the sleep off your face, otherwise you couldn't get anything done. After you had finished everything else concerning your hygiene, you continued with your outfit of the day.

You liked to play around a bit when it came to your fashion choices. After all, you were living in the Capitol. Your job still demanded a certain formality and professionalism, which is why you were perhaps not as free in your choice as others, but that wasn't a problem for you. You always managed to find something elegant to wear since you had all kinds of clothing in different colors and fabrics that were perfect for combining with various other items. Whether vests, suit jackets, skirts, trousers or everything all together, it was entirely up to your mood. (Even though combining everything together was something you hadn't done since your school days at the academy.).

Then the last thing left missing was your hair and maybe some make-up, before you could step out of the house with your pre-packed bag. After a 15-minute drive in your car, you would arrive a few minutes early and were able to go about your duties as planned until it was time to leave at around 4 pm (if you were lucky).

You've been doing this every day for three years. Every day. That may sound exhausting (because it is), but you were also kind of happy about it since missing work would just mean that you had more to do on the following one. You rarely got sick, but when you did it was usually nothing serious so you came to work anyway. On the two rare occasions when you were really seriously ill, you were once off work and once you were lucky (or unlucky) that it was at the time of several public holidays. So yes, you haven't missed a single day of work - until today.

Your alarm clock died in the middle of the night.

"...huh - what's happening?" You asked, slightly drowsy, and it felt like you'd been asleep for far too long, a suspicious amount of long. Your eyes glanced at the clock on your wall, and you had to concentrate to keep the image from blurring. "...It's a quarter past seven." You finally realized, before widening your eyes and jumping out of bed. "It's a quarter past seven! I'm going to be late!"

In your stress to get ready quickly, you decided to get dressed first and quickly picked something out before scurrying to the bathroom to get ready. That was your mistake because while being a bit too hectic when brushing your teeth, you were clumsy enough to get toothpaste on your shirt. "No, no, no - ugh. I can't believe this." You whined and hurried so you could change again.

Hair? fine, make-up? Fuck it - okay, just go out and get in the car. At this point, you were already a whole hour late. When you arrived at the place where your car was supposed to be and couldn't see it, you started to panic and it didn't stop when you realized why. It's in the repair shop! Why, does this have to happen to me?!

"Okay, let's calm down for a minute." You said to yourself and took a deep breath of the cold morning air. It was quiet, only the chirping of the birds could be heard, it was still early in the morning. "That's just the way it is now. I'll just let someone know I'll be late and - " You said and took out your phone, only to realize that it was dead. This all was probably due to a power cut in the night, which also explained why your alarm clock wasn't working this morning. " - alright, I won't do that then. It's cool. Everything's cool."

Your day was off to a pretty bad start already. It would take you at least half an hour to get to work with the train, and you'd have to wait another half an hour since the last one left five minutes ago according to your watch. Yes, the morning commute wasn't exactly popular in the Capitol - the people here usually preferred to sleep in.

"You know what? I'm just going to treat myself to my favorite drink in my favorite café. I really can't do this right now." You finally decide and set off a little more relaxed. "I would argue that I don't get paid enough for this, but I actually get paid pretty well." You admitted but didn't care any more than to laugh about it.

Of course, no one would assume that the secretary to the president of Panem would get a bad wage.

Hm. Coriolanus looked at his watch again. His eyes had been darting there strangely often since this morning. Well, he didn't see you at all today, and normally you would greet him on the way to his office, and he would greet you back. After a while, you would come through the door and ask if he wanted coffee while you were already carrying it to him in your hand. This was followed by a little summary from you about what appointments he had today, who he was meeting and so on - it's not that important, the point is that he hasn't seen you yet and he didn't know why.

He got up from his seat and opened the door of his office to look out, but like before, you weren't sitting in your seat at the reception desk.

He then decided to look for his nearest employee. "Excuse me, Mr. Pox. I hope I'm not interrupting anything. " He announced his presence as he knocked lightly on the open door with his knuckles.

The man immediately stood up slightly nervously in order to appear respectful. He was older than Coriolanus, but he also wasn't the president. "You're not interrupting anything, sir! How can I help you?" He asked, a little confused. Oh no, he never asks me anything personally, I hope it's nothing serious. I'm not in trouble, am I?

Coriolanus reassured him as he subtly asked his question. "Well, I was just wondering where my secretary was. You wouldn't happen to know anything about her whereabouts?" He said, thinking it was a little stupid of him for not wanting to appear conspicuous. She works for me. I have the right to know where she is. This is not in any way inappropriate.

Pox was relieved when it turned out that this wasn't about him, but immediately felt a little guilty because you seemed to be in trouble. You were his nicest colleague, he liked you a lot. But I can't just lie to the president either. He's literally the president! He'll certainly find out if I do. "No, sir. Unfortunately not, she didn't tell me anything." He replied and just watched as the man in front of him hummed absently, which is why he quickly added. "Maybe she's just late?"

If that were the case, you'd already be three hours late. That was not like you, and Coriolanus began to subconsciously worry a little. She would let me know if she was going to be late. He thought to himself until he realized that you had never been late before, so he couldn't be too sure of his theory. Because that was what it was - just a theory. "Hm. All right, thanks for your time, see you then." He said goodbye to Pox and decided to go back to his office.

There wasn't really anything else he could do - well, except maybe call you. He stopped his steps for a moment at the thought. That feels wrong. Usually, you were the one who called him regularly or barged into his office so he didn't really have to. Well, sometimes he wanted to, but he doubted you would appreciate it if he contacted you after your working hours. He sometimes wished that his thoughts of you would end with your departure, but he hadn't really been successful yet, and for god's sake, he didn't know why. Well, I do - but it's complicated. She's my secretary and this isn't a stupid rom com.

He saw you all day. That is enough. It should be enough. It wasn't like he was looking forward to monday or anything since you started working for him - well, he was, but that was because of other things, for sure. It could be because of other things, he could find joy in other things.

"Oh, Mr. Snow. There you are." Your voice surprised him as he opened the door to his own office and was greated with your face in front of his. "I wanted to talk to you, but then you weren't here. I'm sorry I got in without your permission." You apologized sincerely and took a step to the side so he could enter.

"It's all good. You don't need to apologize." Coriolanus said calmly and sat down in his seat, subtly watching you move in front of his desk. "What is it?" He asked, appearing unaffected - as if he hadn't been thinking about you and what you were doing since this morning.

You looked slightly confused. "Well, I'm three hours late for work." You announced, sure that he would have noticed. "I know this can't be excused, and I'll get straight to work to make up for it, I promise. It's just that my car has a few issues and, well..." You assured him and placed a paper cup on his table. "I know I usually bring you coffee, and this is not the expensive one from here, but from my favorite café around the corner, but well..." You started rambling a bit and were a little more talkative than usual, which didn't go unnoticed. "...It also got cold on the way, and I spilled half of it because someone ran into me on the train." You added when you noticed how his gaze shifted to the stain at your side.

"Sounds like you had a pretty exciting morning. It's all right, don't worry, I'll turn a blind eye since it's the first time." Coriolanus replied with his slightly charming smile. You usually told him so little about your personal life that he unconsciously began to appreciate the little things he got to hear from you.

Like no, he didn't want to hear another stupid story about Mr. Aliose and his fucking hamsters. He almost felt sorry for the guys patheticness, maybe he could live a happier life if he put more effort into finding a wife than getting his pet to do a roll. Or from his other employees who tried to entertain him with uninteresting personal stories he didn't care about - because he didn't care about them.

And the one person he did actually want to hear from, kept their personal and work life very separate. He hated that it wasn't the other way around.

You nodded. "You don't even know. I don't expect you to drink this, by the way. As a matter of fact, I'll make you another one right now. It's just that - I worked really hard to get this to you, and it felt wrong to just throw it in the trash in the end." You let that bit out before returning to your professional self. "I just wanted that at least one thing would go right today."

Stay cool, Coriolanus. Don't freak out, and also, stop romanticizing this. "It's all good. I'm honored that you thought of me." He said, hoping he sounded natural.

A smile graced your face. "Of course, Mr. Snow. I'll be right back." You promised him as you stepped out of his office and made your way to the coffee machine.

As soon as the door closed behind you, Coriolanus let out the breath he had been holding. His hand reached for the coffee cup and turned it in his hand only to discover a small note on it. "For my boss and the boss of Panem :)" He read out loud and smiled as his thumb ran over the drawing of the snowflake. He couldn't help but take the little gesture to heart. "That's so sweet."

I should send out a car to pick her up tomorrow - for business reasons, of course.

#x reader #young coriolanus snow #coriolanus snow #tbosas #coryo snow #the hunger games #hunger games #the ballad of songbirds and snakes #bosas #ballad of songbirds and snakes #young coriolanus snow x reader #coriolanus snow x reader #coriolanus x reader #coriolanus x you #coriolanus #snow #snow lands on top #x female y/n #x female reader

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naivegh0ul · 5 months

Note

OKAY BUT how about Older¡Ghost extremely jealous when his neighbor (reader) brings someone to her house to fuck with her? He would be extremely mad about it, but couldn't help but hear her moans and whimpers, wishing it was him instead making her feel good. (And to be honest, she may only did that to caught Ghost's attention )

YESSS god I love the idea of jealous Older!Ghost (it took me way too answer this i am so so so sorry anon!!!)

(warnings: smut, fem reader, older!ghost, jealousy, blowjobs, face fucking)

(word count: 1908)

It's 3am and Ghost hasn't gotten an ounce of sleep. How could he, when he can hear you moaning so sweetly through the walls. This has been a nightly occurrence. Ghost would go to bed, lay there for a while as he scrolled through pictures of you on his phone, and then the moaning would start.

The first time it happened, Ghost brushed it off, he's heard you pleasuring yourself through the walls before. Hell, he's even watched you. But this time you sounded different. Not so breathy, more high-pitched. Exaggerated.

The second time, he heard the creaking noise. Your bed must be rocking back and forth. Again, not the first time Ghost has heard that, but it is the first time he's heard grunts to go along with it.

Now, at three o'clock in the morning, Ghost has finally had enough. He climbs out of bed, feeling angry and annoyed. Angry that his sleep is being disrupted, and annoyed that he's hard from your moans.

He storms out of bed and out of his house, making his way towards your home in only a pair of grey sweatpants and socks, the imprint of his hard cock visible at the front of his sweats.

There's no response when Ghost knocks the first time, so he goes to knock again but your front door swings open before he can. "Mr. Riley!" You exclaim, slightly out of breath. "W-what's the matter?"

Ghost looks you up and down not so discreetly, noting the fact that one of your pant legs is riding up a little, and your shirt is up slightly, revealing the hickies and bite marks littering your stomach.

A twinge of jealousy filled Ghost at the sight. He has no right to be jealous, he knows that, but he is. You are his. Not officially, but you belong to Ghost. He knows what you like, how to crook his fingers to make you cry out his name, what filthy things to say to make you an embarrassed, whining mess.

That man in your bed probably has no idea what to do, he most likely just whipped his dick out and tried to put it in you, not even bothering to make you cum on his fingers first. He's probably your age, too. Young, immature, thinks with his dick.

Ghost can feel himself getting riled up the more he thinks about that stupid guy in your house. Ghost's is gonna give him what he deserves, the second he leaves your house Ghost is gonna wrap his hands around his throat and watch the life bleed from him-

"Simon?" Your sweet voice coos, pulling Ghost out of his spiraling thoughts. "Have a nice night." Ghost grunts out, turning away and walking straight back to his house.

Going to your house was a bad idea. You're a grown woman, for God's sake. He should leave you alone and stop being such an obsessive old man.

The sound of your sock-covered feet hitting the pavement has Ghost turning around before he enters his house. "Simon!" You say, looking up at him as you come to a stop on his front doorstep. "What's wrong? Is everything okay?" There's clear concern in your eyes, making Ghost's heart melt.

"'M fine, love. Don't worry 'bout me." Ghost sighs, reaching forward to ruffle your hair. "Go back inside, 'm sure your guest is waitin' for you."

Ghost tries to turn around again but your hands reach out and grab the waistband of his joggers. "He..." You mumble, looking down at your feet. "He doesn't make me feel as good as you do." You admit as you glance up at Ghost with pleading, desperate eyes.

"Love..." Ghost sighs again "'M too old for you, alright? Go back inside, pretty girl." He leans forward and kisses your forehead softly and strokes your hair before pulling back.

Suddenly, you're on your knees in front of him, hands tugging at his waistband. "Please, Simon?" You coo, palming him through his joggers. Ghost swears under his breath, cock twitching and his hands curling into fists as he fights off the urge to give in.

No, he gave in once. He got his fill, he shouldn't be greedy. But you look so pretty in front of him, kneeling on the hard concrete, your face so close to his throbbing cock.

"You really want this, don't you?" Ghost says as he rubs the bridge of his nose. "Come on, get up. Don't want you kneeling on the concrete." Ghost reaches down and pulls you up, guiding you into his house.

Once the door is shut, you sink to your knees again, eager to please Ghost. "Fuck, you're eager." Ghost breathes as he undoes the ties on his sweatpants, pushing the garment down past his hips, exposing his cock to you.

He watches as your throat bobs and you swallow, your hands sliding up and down his thighs impatiently. Ghost wraps a hand around himself and strokes himself a few times, watching as you shuffle forward and open your mouth.

"Just this once." Ghost thinks to himself as he grabs the back of your head and slowly pushes his cock inside your waiting mouth, groaning loudly as the feeling of your warm, wet mouth engulfs him.

His hand guides you up and down the length of his cock, his fingers tangled in your hair and tugging ever so slightly. He has to fight the urge to buck forward, to fuck into your mouth as you drool all over him.

When he feels your hand on his balls suddenly, he jolts, a moan being shocked out of him as you gently roll them in your hand. "Attagirl," Ghost praises softly, barely audible over the sound of your slurping and gagging as you try to pleasure him at your pace, not his.

Ghost lets you do what you want, letting go of your hair and watching as you scoot forward and take more of Ghost into your mouth. It's a delicious sight, seeing your mouth stretching around him as your fingers wrap around the base of Ghost's cock.

You move further down Ghost's shaft each time, taking more and more of him. Your lips bump into your fingers as you take away one each time, building yourself up until finally you've got Ghost's cock buried deep in your throat, your neck bulging ever so slightly.

"Fuuuck," Ghost groans as he throws his head back, bumping it into the wall. His hips jerk, forcing himself further down your throat and making his heavy balls slap against your face. When you swallow around him, it takes everything in him not to cum right then and there. He has to pull you back so he can control himself.

You're pulled off with a wet cough, one hand holding your throat while the other wipes the spit from your mouth. "Why'd you stop?" You rasp as you look up at Ghost, licking your lips.

"Got close." You tilt your head at his explanation. "Why didn't you just cum then?" Your hand finds its way back to Ghost's cock, your thumb and forefinger gently pulling back Ghost's foreskin as you wait for a response.

"Didn't know if... mhm, if you wanted me to." He pauses mid-sentence as you wrap your lips around his tip, lapping the milky white precum beading from his slit. Your tongue digs under his foreskin, licking him teasingly.

You're so good at this, making Ghost feel like he has no control and you're in charge when you're only giving him a blowjob. You're not even doing anything special, not ordering him around or trying to be dominant, you're just gently suckling on his cock and now you've got him wrapped around your finger.

And it's not fair. Ghost wants to fuck a pretty girl like you with no repercussions, but he knows that's not possible, the moment they're having explains that all away. You can't get pleasure from anyone other than Ghost, and he can't stop himself from pleasuring you.

He's trying so hard to focus and what you're doing, but the way your hand strokes him and your tongue laps at him has him feeling floaty and drunk so he doesn't notice when he starts thrusting his hips forward slowly, fucking into the wet heat of your mouth.

Your hands hold onto his hairy thighs as he gently fucks your mouth, your nails scratching lightly as you let him do what he wants. He sounds so gorgeous, breathy moans and groans escaping his throat as he rocks his hips.

You watch him, big eyes looking up at Ghost curiously as you swallow. He looks so good from where you're kneeling, mindless yet focused as he moves you up and down on his cock like you're a toy, just a thing for his pleasure.

And you let him. You let him drag you along his cock or hold you still so he can fuck into your mouth; you let him lose himself as he stares into your teary, lustful eyes.

"So pretty down there." Ghost mumbles, slurring his words as if he's drunk on the feeling of you. "Perfect little mouth, so warm..." His hand moves from the back of your head to the side, Ghost's other hand joining in as he holds you still and slowly thrusts into your mouth, letting out breathy little grunts each time.

He's close, you can tell from the way his breathing speeds up and hips move faster, eagerly bucking into your mouth. Ghost gets rough when he's close, you know that, so you're prepared when he adjusts his stance and grips your head tighter, pulling you down so your nose is buried in the thick hair at the base of his cock.

"Fuuuck," Ghost groans as he feels your throat contract, watches as your eyes water and your hands grip his thigh. "Good fucking girl, takin' me so well." His thumb swipes below your eye, wiping away your tears as his hips snap against your face, balls slapping your chin.

"'M close," He pants, feeling his cock twitch in your mouth. "You gonna swallow it like a good girl?" At his words, you moaned, eyebrows pinching as you scooted forward on the floor and licked at the sensitive vein on the underside of Ghost's cock.

“Yeah, ‘s what I thought.” His hands tighten their hold on your head, pulling you closer to him. You’re a gagging, drooling mess, hands planted in your lap as you hear Ghost let out a loud, long moan, his hips stilling as he forces his cock further into your mouth, spilling his seed down your throat.

When Ghost finally lets you off – after holding you there for an unreasonable amount of time – you splutter and cough, one hand gingerly holding your throat while the other wipes your mouth.

You stand up after a moment, knees clicking and cracking from being so stiff and you look at Ghost with a tiny smile on your face and a happy expression. Boldly, you lean closer, standing on your tiptoes as you go in for a kiss.

But Ghost stops you with a hand on your shoulder, shutting you down. “We shouldn’t.” He shakes his head as he speaks. He can see the look of hurt and confusion in your eyes as you step back, visibly embarrassed.

“Um, I’ll go now.” You say softly, avoiding eye contact. “Bye, Mr. Riley.”

#asks #fem reader #older!ghost #ghost cod #ghost #simon ghost riley #simon riley #ghost x reader #simon ghost riley x reader #simon riley x reader #ghost x female reader #simon riley x female reader #ghost smut #i am so bad with posting stuff at a normal rate #i'm so sorry anon 😭#i had so much fun with this request tho #thank you for sending it <3

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dilfl0v3rss · 1 year

Note

Hear me out 😮‍💨 - ony and y/n get in a argument but ony in the wrong and he look for a way to apologize

omg yessssssss bc usually we be the ones in troubleeee. i like how you thinking boo. we gon use basketball player!ony for this one since a lot of people liked it. aight so boom...

the argument

cw: smuttttyyyy

word count: 2.6k

── ⋅⋅⋅ ────꒰ ୨ ♡ ୧ ꒱───────

it was eleven o'clock when your boyfriend finally decided to come home. he had his duffle bag on his shoulder as he roughly kicked off his crocs at the door. you can tell he had an attitude, probably due to something that happened at practice, but so did you. it had been about a month since the the two of you have had so much as a movie night together because he's been so caught up in basketball and school. this was no where near your fault given that you've tried to spend time with him at every opportunity you had, but ony always had an excuse.

"can't mama, finna go to the weight room wit the guys." or "another time baby. coach had us running like a track team at practice." and other excuses like that caused you to stop even trying. and the worst part was, he didn't even notice. ony continued to come home late into the night because of basketball and leave early in the morning for class without batting an eye. tonight you've had enough. he promised to be home by eight since he only had practice from three to six, but lo and behold, this nigga didn't come home until eleven.

"do you know what time it is?" you stood up from your seat on the couch, placing each of your hands on your wide hips. you had to stop yourself from swinging on this nigga when you heard him mumble an "oh my fucking god" after sucking his teeth. "excuse me? you got sum to say nigga?" your were ready to scream. how could he have an attitude right now when he's the one completely in the wrong. he could've at least called to let you know he wouldn't be able to get home on time, but nooooo. he says nothing, and now he comes in the house acting like a child.

"ion got time f'this y/n. i been running around like a chicken wit its fucking head cut off all practice because niggas on the team don't know how to make simple jump shots." you scoff as you heard his excuse. "so first, you come home three hours late. don't call or text me to let me know that you were even coming late. and now, you come in here, don't even apologize, and have an attitude? that's cute. you sleeping on the couch."

your words must've set him off because ony immediately started raising his voice. "here you go wit that shit bro. the world don't revolve around you y/n." you started getting into his face. "i never said it did, but m'not finna sit here and act like ion deserve at least a little of your time. i'm your fucking girlfriend ony. don't you think it's a little odd that you be picking literally everything little fucking thing to do instead of spend time with me?" you can tell you struck a nerve when he folded his lips, looking straight ahead as if you weren't even there.

this was something ony did to keep his anger at bay since he was known to have a really bad temper. "chill wit allat cussing lil girl. m'not finna go back and forth wit you cause you being clingy." you was on ten at this point. you just told this man what he was doing wrong and all he registered from it was that you were cursing? "are you kidding me? you know what? you can have the bed. m'finna just go since m'so 'clingy'. when you ready to be a man and talk then you can call me." you went into your room and grabbed your PINK duffle bag before heading to your dresser to start packing.

ony watched as you stuffed clothes from each drawer into the bag, not even looking at what you were grabbing as tears blurred your vision. as soon as the words left his lips, he immediately regretted them. you had every right to want to spend some time with him given how much he's been neglecting you for other things. he let his stupid attitude get the best of him as soon as he walked into the door. he knew he should've apologized once he got home, but, being the prideful man he was, he decided to just make things worse by being a dickhead.

and now the woman that he loves is crying, trying to leave the house because he doesn't know how to control his emotions. before he knew it, you were at the door. holding your phone in your hand as you dialed your friends number for her to pick you up. ony listened to the phone ring twice before the girl known as eboni answered. "hello?" he wasted no time snatching the phone from you, hanging it up and putting it in his pocket. "the fuck you doing. gimme my pho-"

"you not leaving me y/n."

you looked up at him and were surprised to see water in his eyes. of course the tears never fell because ony never liked to cry in front of anyone, but the fact that they were getting to this point was surprising. you sigh calmly. "m'just gonna stay at eboni's for a couple days until you get your head right." you felt his strong arms wrap around you, holding you tightly as he spoke. "my head is right y/n. i was being selfish and stupid and prideful. i shoulda called or at least said 'sorry' when i got home, but i didn't. i called you clingy and invalidated your feelings. m'sorry furreal baby please just-....just don't leave me."

ony felt you shuffling so you can wrap your arms around him as well. the two of you staying like that for a while before you broke the silence. "i'd never leave you baby, just want you to be a little better wit your time management." he squeezed you tighter. "i will mama. i will" as the two of you loosened your grips on each other, ony lightly gripped your face in his hand before giving you a bunch of soft kisses on your lips, forehead, and cheeks. you were a giggling mess before you lightly pushed him away, making a fake serious face. "you still need to make it up t'me. what you said was mean."

a smirk crept on your boyfriends face as he led you to your bedroom. "ill make it up t'you right now baby." ony lied you down on the bed, removing his clothes until he was only left in his boxers. "take allat off mama i got sum else for you to wear." you gave him a confused look before eventually just shrugging your shoulders and removing all of your clothes. you lied naked on the bed as you watched ony pull his jersey out of his bag, bringing it to you. "put this on." was all he said before you gave him another questionable look.

"cmon pretty i wanna make love t'you wit it on." you had no idea what he was getting at, but you put in on anyways. ony was way bigger than you so the jersey was almost like a dress on you, stopping right below your ass before he lifted it up over you stomach and lied you back down. his body between your legs as he looked up at you. "ready?" his breath instantly touched your pussy, making you jump. before you could even reply, ony got to eating. he licked and sucked your clit like a starved man. long middle finger prodding at your entrance before he slowly pushed it all the way in .

your back arched off the bed as he kept sucking on your clit, middle finger reaching deep inside of you while you moaned his name like a prayer. "f-fuck onyyy" he moved his eyes towards your face, taking in your beauty before removing his mouth from your heat. "look at me baby. wanna see those pretty eyes." you slowly opened your eyes, pretty black lashes fluttering as you tried your best to focus on on him. a small smile crept onto ony's face as he added another finger into you, middle and index fingers digging you out as your eyes rolled to the back of your skull.

there's no way you could keep them open when he's making you feel this good. maybe you should get mad at him more often. your back was still arched off the bed before you felt your lover place his large hand on your stomach, pushing it down as he started fingering you faster. you felt your orgasm approaching as ony held his fast pace, licking and sucking on your clit to bring you to the edge faster. "ahghh...ohh my goddd...oouuhhh shit." you were losing it, hips fighting ony's hand as they twisted and turned all over the place. "i know mama. i know....jus let it out for me." the coil in your stomach snapped, liquid ecstasy flowing out of you and all over your mans face.

you shook in overstimulation as he kept eating without batting and eye. ony's fingers still held their fast pace as your hands flew to his head, trying to push him off and move back from him before you made an ever bigger mess. he bound both of your wrists in his hand before laying it back down onto your stomach. "stop runnin’ mama. m'not done." you were moaning so loud you had to make a silent prayer that the two of you don't wake up with a noise complaint notice on your door in the morning. "f-fuckk daddy ima make a mess pleaseee." you whined, but ony ignore you.

it actually felt like he started getting rougher. licking and sucking your clit harder while his fingers were now pounding into you. before you knew it, you were cumming again, making the mess you were trying to warn him about. you squirted everywhere from his face to his chest, some of it even running down his body and wetting up the waistband of his black briefs. ony sat back on his knees he looked down as your disheveled state. "look so pretty." he mumbled before pulling his underwear down right until his dick sprang free.

his hard length slapped onto his stomach before bouncing up and down due to gravity. doe eyes followed its movements. ony chuckled as he watched you become entranced by his dick. "y'ready mama? if its too much jus scratch my back cause m'not stopping until this this whole bed is wet." you nodded your head he lined himself up with your entrance, sucking his teeth at your lack of vocalization. "cmon baby talk t'me. you ready for daddy to make love t'you?" you look up to see his brown orbs already staring down at you. lips curved into a soft smile as he awaited your reply.

"yes. i want you t'make love to me" ony’s smile widened before he pushed himself into you slowly. eyes never leaving yours, reading your expressions to know when to stop to let you adjust. you were grateful for this because he was nowhere near small, and his girth alone would had you ready to cry at times. soon enough, the space between the two of you was completely gone. dick fully sheathed inside your pussy as ony waited for you to give him the okay to move. the two of you never broke eye contact through all of this and once you gave him a small "okay" he wasted no time.

slowly stroking you as he stared into your eyes. it was like the two of you were taking a look into each other souls. he began picking up his pace, pounding into you the way he knew you loved which caused you to tear up from the pleasure. "how it feel baby?" your back arched into him. the two of you stomach to stomach as ony intertwined both of his hands with yours. you couldn't even speak, using jumbled moans to reply. "aahghh...mmmughh." your eyes were at the back of your skull as you felt the tip his dick begin to kiss your cervix, making your legs open wider as you freed your hands from his and raked them down his back.

ony continued his onslaught on your pussy. letting you scratch up and down his back as he lied his hands flat next to both sides of your head, pounding into you harder. "mhmm sing f'me baby." you screamed as you felt your orgasm come out of nowhere. squirting once again on his dick, but he didn't stop. he fucked you through it, letting your essence splash all over your lower halves as he continued to look down at you. you were absolutely stunning. tears running down your cheeks as you looked up at him. bottom lip being tugged on by your teeth as your body jerked from his hard thrusts. "made my pretty girl cry. you should never be cryin'. daddy can't give you those babies if i be making you cry like that." he groaned before pressing his hand on the big number three on his jersey. he was so deep in you he felt the bulge he was making in your stomach under his hand.

your tears reminded ony of how you were earlier. angry and ready to leave him after he hurt you with his cruel words. he vowed to never do nothing that dumb again. "you only supposed to be crying from pleasure, never pain. m'sorry mama. s-so sorry." you began to spasm around your boyfriends dick, fourth orgasm of the night ready to come out. ony felt this and sped up, feeling close to the edge as well. "you forgive me baby?" his eyes never left your face as you whined out your reply. "i-i f-forgive you daddy. i f-forgive you." you smiled up at him, shakily putting your hand on his cheek. you caressed his dark brown skin as you felt your orgasm approaching. "i wanna cum together papa."

ony kissed into your palm before leaning down and softly kissing your lips. "cum mama. m'right there wit you." the both of your threw your heads back in unison as he gave you three hard strokes before stilling inside of you. cream leaking onto his base as you felt his hot load fill your pussy. you stayed like that for awhile, kissing each other while you caught your breath. ony saw your eyes flutter as you fought off your sleep. removing his jersey from your body before carrying you bridal style to the bathroom. he sat you on the toilet the turned on the shower. "need you to pee before i can let you get in." after you peed then the two of you showered together, ridding each others of the evidence of your earlier activities.

as you got dressed, ony changed the sheets and remade the bed so you wouldn't have to lift a finger. he then carried you to the bed, knowing your legs were probably still a little week before laying you on top of him. "mama?" he grumbled, you can tell he was getting tired as well. "hmm?" "im real sorry okay? never ever meant to hurt you." you lightly chuckled while tracing different shapes on his chest. "i know baby. and i know basketball and stuff could be time consuming and you just wanna do your own thing sometimes, but i just wish you'd give me just a little of your time y'know". ony rubbed on your lower back as he hummed in agreement. "ima do better. tomorrow i got early morning practice so im all yours after class. how that sound." you looked up at your boyfriend. he's doing better already. "sounds great."

#aot onyankopon #onyankopon x black reader #onyankopon x reader #aot x black reader #aot #aot smut #onyankopon x black!reader #onyankopon

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motimatcha · 3 months

Text

“ morning and evening. ”

hazbin hotel Adam x fem!reader

headcanons about home routine with Adam.

You and Adam are late birds: you get up and go to bed quite late. Adam can’t sleep until he’s exhausted all his energy, which ends around three in the morning or until his eyes (and whole body) start to hurt from watching some cheap TV series (or porn). If you can't sleep, then Adam is ready to keep you company — this is one of those rare cases when you both enjoy silent time with each other.

Your relationship has a pre-bed self-care routine. Moreover, a joint routine. You can stand next to each other and brush your teeth, or one of you can take care of your hair/skin. I also think you two need a really big bathtub both as a room and as a soaking tub because of Adam's wings and his childish behavior.

Washing together includes two options:

1. Romance or even intimacy. The water is barely half full, barely above room temperature, and Adam’s hands slide over your body. His lips give your neck fleeting kisses and do not stay in one place for a long time, nor do they kiss the same place twice.

2. When he really wants to woo you. Adam carefully selects the shampoo for your hair so that “your hair should smell like roses and make everyone gasp and be envious.” Adam also lets you take care of his hair; do you want it to smell like vanilla? "Okay, this is not my style, but let's do it." What about the power of the forest? “Babe, where did you even get this shampoo??” Adam definitely prefers shampoo that smells like mint or "male power" because he's supposed to be the alpha male, the dominant one.

I think Adam sleeps in fabric pants (I don't remember the exact style name, but you can imagine those gray pants (if you know what I mean)). If you fall asleep with him wearing only a T-shirt over your naked body, then Adam will hardly be able to keep his hands to himself. I believe he has a whole ritual before he falls asleep that involves putting his hand under your T-shirt so that his thumb is dangerously close to your chest.

If we assume that angels can hide their wings (as demonstrated by Lucifer and Vaggie), then Adam sometimes hides his wings: when he sleeps, when he wants to lie on his back, when he has sex with you, and when he wants you to snuggle against his side, and your head rested on his chest on the side of his heart. Adam is a selfish bastard who doesn't care if his wings get in the way of anyone (he'll even laugh at you) because he already did more than enough when he pressed his wings to his body.

Lying on his side, he likes to press you to his body not only with his arms, but also with his wings. Adam is basically very clingy and if you don’t object, he is ready to fall on you with his whole body.

Adam is very lazy in the morning. He, like you, can get up closer to lunch, enjoying a late breakfast (at four o'clock in the evening, for example).

His favorite pastime is to watch you cook, clinging to your back and hugging your waist, placing his chin on your shoulder or the top of your head.

He also doesn't mind if you do the same while he makes you two coffee or breakfast.

Adam can't help but sit you down on the table and stand between your legs. The fingers of one of his hands rest on your thigh, the other hand holds a cup of sweet (definitely sweet) coffee while he carries on some casual conversation with you.

I add random pictures to understand which post you liked in my notifications.

#hazbin hotel #adam x reader #hazbin hotel adam x reader #hazbin hotel x reader

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roosterforme · 4 months

Text

How Do You Feel About the Parking Lot? (Rooster x Reader)

Part of The What If Collection of blurbs for Roo and Baby Girl. My masterlist. Banner by @mak-32

Warnings: language, drinking, angst, fluff

You were excited at first. Very excited. You showed off your ring to everyone and gushed over the fact that you were engaged. And while you were still wearing his mom's engagement ring, it was becoming obvious to Bradley that things were not quite as they should be.

"Hey," he said softly as he walked into the kitchen. It was exactly nine weeks ago that he'd proposed in the dining room and you'd happily accepted that ring that glittered on your finger right now. But tonight you just mumbled something at him without looking up from your computer where you sat at the island. It was nearly midnight on Friday, and he would have given anything for you to start planning this wedding with him. "Are you coming to bed soon? I thought we could talk about potential wedding dates."

"Oh," you replied without looking up at him. "I'm still putting this presentation together."

Bradley sighed. "Baby Girl, you've been working nonstop for weeks. I just want... a little bit of your time." He wanted a lot of things, actually. Like a long snuggle on the couch while you and he watched a movie, or a soak in the tub together. He'd love a blowjob or pinning your hands above your head while he slammed you into the bed. But mostly he'd love to plan his wedding to you, because more than anything, he wanted to get married this year. And it was already late September.

You glanced up at him and adjusted your glasses. "How about tomorrow? I really need to get this done before my work trip."

"Sure," he whispered before pecking you on the cheek and heading off to climb into bed alone.

But it only got worse from there. You worked all weekend. On Monday, you didn't come home until seven o'clock. Tuesday was eight o'clock. By Wednesday, he wasn't sure if you were even eating or sleeping any longer. And worse yet, you were leaving for Annapolis in a few days. Bradley wouldn't even see you for a week. Not that he really saw you now, he supposed.

He ate a bowl of cereal for dinner before sinking down onto the couch with Tramp and a bottle of scotch. He turned on Real Housewives, but he wasn't really watching it. He took a sip, and it burned. But the next one didn't. And neither did the one after that. He started to feel better. But he'd stop when you got home.

Another episode started, but it still wasn't holding his attention the way you would have, and that's when he realized it was once again seven o'clock, and you still weren't home. When his phone rang, he sloshed some of the alcohol onto his tee shirt reaching for it, and he was praying it was you calling to tell him you were on your way home.

He pressed his lips together and then took a deep breath before he answered. "Hi, mom."

"Bradley! I haven't heard from the two of you in days! How's your lovely fiancée? And Tramp?"

The dog must have heard her voice through the phone, because he perked right up. But Bradley couldn't answer with anything other than a raspy, "Fine."

The line went silent. "Are you sick? What's wrong?"

"Nothing's wrong, mom," he lied. "How are you? How's dad?"

"Well, I went to lunch with Brenda, and I got the scoop on all of her kids. And your dad needs hearing aids, but he keeps arguing with me about it. Maybe you can talk some sense into him, if he can even hear you."

"Okay," he replied, realizing the room had started spinning when he leaned back against the couch.

"Bradley, are you drunk?"

How could she possibly tell? His own wife-to-be couldn't seem to see what was going on, but Carole could tell by his voice from almost three thousand miles away. "I'm... fine, mom. I need to take Tramp for a walk. I love you and dad. Bye."

Then he ended the call, because he could feel tears in his eyes. And when you got home at nine, he was already asleep.

-------------------------

You needed to go to happy hour with your boss and coworkers on Friday, but you really didn't want to. You'd been pulling twelve hour days, and you were so exhausted, you just wanted to climb into bed with Bradley and sleep until you left for Maryland on a Saturday night red eye flight. You also really needed to tell him that he had to lay off the wedding planning until you finished this work project. It was just a few months of all these extra hours, and you desperately wanted to be promoted.

Your plan was to stop home quickly and change out of your uniform before heading back out with everyone to celebrate that fact that you were going to present your research at the Naval Academy. When you pulled into the driveway in your shitty, little red car, the Bronco was already there. But when you looked around the house for Bradley, you didn't immediately see him. But then you heard his voice through the open sliding glass door. He was sitting on the back patio in just his gym shorts with his back to the door and a half empty bottle of scotch set on his knee.

His voice sounded miserable as he said, "I tried, mom. She just... doesn't seem to want to. I don't know what I did wrong."

You froze in place. He had to be talking about you. Embarrassment and sadness filled you as you listened to what he said next.

"I really wanted to get married this year."

You ran down the hallway to the bedroom as you fought off your tears. You had to get changed and go right now while you still could. In another week, you'd have a little more time to talk to him about the fact that you couldn't plan a wedding and get married in the next three months with your current schedule.

You left the house again without talking to him, but he was still sitting on the patio on the phone. And when he dropped you off at the airport the following evening, he didn't seem to want to let you go as he whispered, "I love you, Sweetheart," and ran his thumb along your ring.

"I love you too, Roo. I'll be home in a week, and then we can talk about maybe planning a wedding for next year?"

He swallowed hard and nodded. "If that's what you want."

---------------------------

When you landed in Maryland on Sunday morning, you were still exhausted and looking forward to crashing until your presentation on Monday. But Carole called you when you were at the baggage claim, and you knew you had to answer. A guilty feeling was about to eat you alive as you put on a bubbly voice and said, "Hi!"

"Have you arrived in Annapolis?" she asked straightaway, and you sighed because at least she didn't sound angry with you.

"I did," you told her softly. "Still at the airport."

"Perfect," she replied. "I'll leave now, and I'll be there in less than fours hours, and we can go get lunch."

You were so stunned, you watched your bag go past without realizing you needed to pick it up. "You're going to drive up from Virginia?" you asked her slowly.

"Yes. I'm grabbing my keys right now. Bye, Goose! I'll be back later!" You listened to her call out to her husband, and then a few seconds later, you heard a door close and a car start. She was actually going to drive up here.

"Oh, okay," you muttered, pressing your lips together, embarrassed about where you'd left things with her son. "I'll... see you in a few hours."

You managed to take a short, restless nap while you waited for Carole to arrive. You changed into a simple dress and put on some makeup, but you didn't really feel any better until you met her at a restaurant in the city. She rushed down the sidewalk toward you with a bright smile on her face. "My sweet girl!" she called out, wrapping you up in a hug next to a few tables full of people enjoying their lunch outside. "It's been too long." She kissed your cheek and started to lead you inside.

"Thanks for driving all the way up here," you told her, not bothering to fight the smile tugging your lips. She was absolute sunshine, and it was pointless to try to resist it. "You didn't have to do this."

"Nonsense," she said as the two of you made your way to a booth. "I wanted to see my future daughter-in-law."

You nodded and enjoyed some pleasant conversation. She told you all about Goose's appointment with an audiologist and about Brenda's kids. And after you finished your avocado toast and bowl of soup, she said, "Now, I think we should talk about what's really important."

Her voice wasn't unkind, and she was still smiling softly, but you knew what was coming as you whispered, "Okay."

Carole reached across the table and took your hand gently in hers. "I know you're smart and independent. And I also know that's part of why Bradley loves you so much. You don't need him. He's not offering you anything you can't get on your own or with someone else. You chose him, because you want him." Tears started to fill your eyes, and you had to swallow against the lump in your throat. "And he just wants you to be happy, so he would never tell you to your face that you're hurting him."

You tried to speak, but you just made a pathetic sound and started to sob. "I don't want to hurt him."

"I know you don't," she replied softly, squeezing your hand. "I know you're not trying to. But I think you need to tell him once and for all that you don't want to get married this year so he can finally get used to the idea of waiting a bit."

You buried your face in your free hand. Why were you trying to push it off anyway? It's not like you really cared where you got married or what the two of you were wearing. Planning some sort of huge celebration was not something you wanted to spend your time doing. You wanted to be with Bradley exactly as you were right now, just with two more rings and a certificate involved.

When you looked up at Carole, you whispered, "I don't really think I actually want to wait. And I don't want you to hate me either."

"No," she gasped, standing and coming to sit next to your on your side of the booth. She kissed your tear streaked cheek and whispered, "I could never, my sweet darling girl. I think you just need to talk to Bradley, okay? Can you promise me you'll give him a few hours of your full attention? And maybe let him know how much he still means to you?"

"Yes," you croaked, and you let her hold you as you cried.

---------------------------

The week without you was kind of miserable. Bradley managed to dump the rest of the bottle of scotch at Carole's urging over the phone. And he did notice that she and Goose started calling with a bit more frequency which he didn't really mind. But the best part was that fact that you called him every night before you went to bed.

Every time he answered your calls, his heart thundered in his chest. And as soon as he called you Sweetheart, he could practically hear you smiling through the phone. "I can't wait to pick you up on Friday," he said over and over. If he just felt like he mattered to you again, then he could wait until next year to get married. That was no big deal in the grand scheme of things.

But when he met you in baggage claim at San Diego International late on Friday night, he was so surprised, he could barely speak. You ran for him with a garment bag in your arms, but you let it fall to the floor when you reached him. "Roo," you moaned as soon as you were in his grasp. "I missed you so much." You kissed him deeply. "I just got off the phone with your mom again. And I didn't tell you before, but I went to see my friend Caleb a few days ago," you said as you smirked.

"The tattoo artist?" he asked as he kissed your cheek fifteen times. When you nodded he asked, "What's in the garment bag?"

"My wedding dress."

"Holy shit." He scooped it up off the floor and held it tight. "You bought a dress?" he asked, trying to hold you and the garment bag both to his chest at the same time.

"Yes," you told him matter-of-factly as you tugged him toward the exit while you kissed his lips. "How do you feel about getting married in the parking lot in two months?"

------------------------

#if you ask emily #is it working for you?#roosterforme #b&bg #bradley bradshaw x reader #bradley rooster bradshaw x reader #rooster x reader #bradley bradshaw imagine #rooster imagine #bradley bradshaw x you #bradley bradshaw fanfiction #rooster x you

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sxriusblxck · 1 year

Note

Hellooooooo can I request marauders x reader (platonic or poly whatever you want :)) with reader who like never drinks water so like everywhere they go the boys are making sure there hydrated lmao this sounds weird I’m sorry lol anyway hope you having a good day/night <33

i never drink water so this is perfect LOL!

poly!marauders x gn!reader

warnings: exam season, stress, dehydration, the marauders being absolute sweethearts

word count: 529

/////

Your head is hurting as you approach their door, shoulder heavy with the bookbag that hangs off of it.

You'd been studying all day, barely giving yourself a moment to breathe before diving into the next subject, eager to pass the next exams thrown your way.

By the time you had reached the boy's dorm, you were ready to lay down and sleep for the next fourteen hours.

But they had other plans.

"Dove, you look exhausted." Remus breaks the silence, sat on Sirius's bed with a worried, yet stern look on his chiseled face.

You pout, slinging the strap of your bookbag over the arm of James's desk chair.

"I am not. I was jus' studying." You shake your head, trotting over to plop yourself in Remus's lap.

He grins, despite the worry coursing through his veins. He'd never deny you a cuddle, even if you had done the worst of the worst, that was just off the table. Cuddles were a must in his book.

"Did you drink some water?" He asks, and you know you've been caught.

You bite down on your lip, hesitating before slowing shaking your head side to side.

He sighs, giving you a knowing look before tossing you to the side, your body landing beside Sirius's resting figure as Remus goes to fetch you a glass of water.

"Hi." You giggle, now nose-to-nose with Sirius.

He grins. "Hello, my love." His arm stretches around your waist, pulling you closer so your front is flush against his. "You know you have to drink at least eight glasses of water a day, right?"

"Yes." You sigh, nuzzing your nose into his cheek like a kitten nudging for attention. "It's just so hard to remember."

"We should get ya' one of those water bottles with time marks on 'em so you don't forget." James perks up from behind Sirius, head popping up so he can look at you. "How does that sound?"

"I wouldn't mind it." You shrug.

/////

It's even worse with the water bottle, and you kind of regret agreeing to it.

By nine am when you're supposed to have drank two cups of water, Remus is hounding you to watch as you drink the last of what you had forgotten. But he rests his hand on your thigh during, so it's not much of a punishment.

After DADA, at noon, when you hadn't finished the four cups you were assigned by said water bottle, James is cornering you at your locker to make sure you've drank it. It's not too bad since he wraps his arm around your shoulder while he watches you drink it.

Sirius is somehow the worst, trapping you in the janitors closet to gulp down the last two cups before you can get to your potions class because "staying hydrated is important," as he put it. But he lets you sit on his lap and massages your tummy while you do it.

Honestly, you can't even be mad about it. Having three loving boyfriends who care so much about your health makes up for the mild annoyance you feel having to chug three cups of water at four o'clock in the afternoon.

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bradshawsvinyl · 3 months

Text

Castles Crumbling

Tolerate It (Part two)

read part one here.

authors note: not sure if this is the ending you guys were expecting but I hope you like it!

warnings: mentions of cheating, mentions of death, miscommunication tropes.

It was two in the morning when Jake softly unlocked the door to the home he shared with you. He silently took off his shoes and went upstairs to see where you were. He knew taking off on you was wrong. He knew that you just wanted to let him in. All you ever tried to do was love him and all he ever did was shut you out.

He had been planning to propose to you. He was constantly in communication with your best friend Julianna. He was talking to her about things he didn’t quite understand like ring sizes and diamonds. He wanted to make this proposal perfect for you. He wanted to give you everything you deserved and more.

But work was stressing him out. Maverick warned Jake and the rest of the squad that they would be shipping off for an important mission in the next three months. The mission details were classified. All Maverick said was that they’d better prepare their families for the possibility that they might not come back.

Mortality had never scared Jake away from doing his job. He knew he was one of the best fighter pilots in the nation. That was why he was a part of Top Gun.

Mortality never scared Jake until he met you. He knew he loved you. You were the only person he ever saw a future with. Kids, a dog, a white picket fence, he wanted that with you. But in the back of his mind, he knew there was a chance that something could go wrong on a mission. He didn’t want to leave you alone with kids or make you a widow. He couldn’t do that to you. And so he did the only thing he knew how to do. He ran.

Jake crept upstairs and found you sitting up in bed reading a book. “I thought you would be asleep by now.” He said while sitting down on the edge of the bed.

“I can’t sleep if you’re not here. You know that Seresin.” You replied, still looking at the words in your hands.

“I’m sorry.” He said softly. “I shouldn’t have done that. It wasn’t right to shut you out and I-“

“Don’t even,” You interrupted him. “You can’t keep doing this to me Jake. It isn’t fair. All I've ever wanted to do was help you. You can’t keep shutting me out.”

“Baby, I know I'm sorry I'm just overwhelmed with work. I didn’t know what else to do.”

“You didn’t know what else to do?” You replied, voice rising from anger. “You could’ve talked to me. You didn’t have to leave me here crying like an idiot over something that I don’t even know about.”

“I know it’s just that I'm not the best at dealing with my emotions.” He said softly. “I love you.”

“Why was Julianna calling you then?” You changed the subject.

“What do you…” Jake started.

“Don’t play stupid Seresin. I saw her call you five times in the span of 10 minutes. She’s my friend. You’ve only met her a few times. Why would she be calling you at ten o'clock at night?”

Jake’s just looked at you in disbelief. There was nothing going on between him and Julianna. He was simply asking her for her opinion on how to propose and what ring to buy. She was your best friend after all. He couldn’t believe that you would think he was cheating on you with her. If you asked him to give you the moon, he would’ve done it. No questions asked.

“What are you insinuating?” He said slowly growing more angry when he realized what you thought he was doing.

“I’m insinuating that you’re seeing her on the side.” You said, near tears. “Just tell me the truth Jake. I can’t keep sitting here wondering why you’re shutting me out. You can’t keep leaving me here like an idiot.”

“Listen,” he said while grabbing your hands. “There is nothing going on between me and Julianna. I just needed to ask her something. That’s it. I would never cheat on you. You’re the only person I could ever love.”

“So why won’t you let me in.” You whispered. “If it’s not her then who? You won’t talk to me anymore. You won’t touch me. You barely even look at me.”

Suddenly Jake’s face dropped. “I might not come back.” He said, so softly that you might have missed it if you weren’t right next to him.

“What do you mean you might not come back?” You said growing more and more confused.

“Maverick said that this next mission is going to be dangerous. He said to hope for the best but expect the worst and I just-“ Suddenly Jake started sobbing.

You were shocked. Suddenly things started making sense. He was shutting you out because he didn’t want you to be hurt if he didn’t come back. You knew Jake tended to be more quiet when there was a tough mission coming up.

You pulled him into a tight hug and began to comfort him. “Why didn’t you tell me? I can’t help you if I don’t know what is going on with you.”

“I didn’t know how to tell you. I never wanted to hurt you. I was just trying to protect you.” He said.

“I’m here for you no matter what.” You said, eyes beginning to fill with tears. “We’re a team. You have to tell me if there’s something happening. I love you.”

“I’m sorry.” He said while kissing your cheek. “I didn’t want to be a burden. I should’ve told you about the mission sooner. You’re my rock. I love you.”

As your tears and Jake's tears subside, he holds you tightly. You hold him back feeling all the walls between the two of you crumble.

Jake knew two things for certain. He would come home to you, and he would marry you.

#jake hangman imagine #hangman x reader #jake seresin x reader #top gun maverick #hangman top gun #jake hangman fic #jake seresin x oc #jake seresin x you #jake seresin #hangman x you #hangman angst #top gun hangman #hangman imagine #jake hangman seresin #my writing #glen powell x reader #glen powell #top gun x you #top gun 1986

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honestsycrets · 9 months

Text

exclusive | [miguel o'hara x reader, hobie brown x reader]

❛ pairing | fuck buddies: miguel o'hara x reader, hobie brown x reader (background pairing)

❛ type | one-shot, explicit

❛ summary | miguel learns his fuck buddy is fucking Hobie and feels some type of way about it.

❛ tags | heavy jealousy, somnophilia, fuck buddies, multiple partners, undisclosed sexual relationship, dubious consent: aggression/revenge, sloppy seconds, f!reader, lying by omission, spanish is not translated, an attempt at MLE, break ups, eating kitty, bit angsty, older hobie in this piece, break-ups.

❛ reqs fulfilled | Hey! I saw your requests were open and I wanted to know if you'd be down with writing something about Miguel x Reader who has been whining for his cock all day, crying and trying to run from it when he finally gives it to her? & where reader loves him but he doesn't, only for him to eventually fall in love but its too late because she's moved on, or vice versa

❛ sy's notes | here's for the anon that requested i release it. hope you like it, lil buddy.

Miguel wakes early in the morning.

Lyla usually woke him up with a Hey Miguel, Miguel, You have a meeting Miguel-- something teasing and aggravating all at once. That morning his room was so silent that he could nearly feel the heaving and dropping of a second heartbeat. His vision strains as his eyes take focus on the pitch-black room. He takes up the bulk of the bed with his large frame while the pillows are strewn over the floor. Your complaints of-- You never come to find me, you always ignore me. He quickly remembers what happened last night. Your legs were intertwined in his, scaling him like he was another bed in of himself.

"Lyla, what time is it?" he asks, massaging the crook in his neck. The world is quiet in his room. Out there, he knew there would be one problem after another. As soon as he peeled himself from the comfort of your warm embrace. Your legs intertwined in his, keeping him in the warmth of his bed, a spider's web of its own. He hates that he doesn't want to leave. Not yet, anyway. He knows he's in deep.

"About--" she pauses, "Nine o'clock?"

"¿Las nueve?" he shouts, pushing himself up on his thick forearms. "Damn it, Lyla!"

"I would've woken you up sooooner," she draws out in a long tease. "If you weren't too busy pounding your novía until three in the morning."

"She's not my girlfriend," not yet, he bit out, unpeeling your warm legs from his core. A brush more and he would have another type of problem to deal with that morning. As nice as it would have been to lay back down and wait until sleep released its tight grip on you, he had obligations.

"Yeah," she scoffs. "Okay, Miguel."

Lyla knew what he wanted. He wanted this. You-- to help make him forget the past and the future. To forget all the awful things that haunted him day to day. You could do that. He feels your sleepy eyes on him as he turns to sit up in his bed. Your heavy eyelids are cloaked with the ache for sleep. Or half-lidded in fervor for another round. He isn't sure which, yet.

"Te quiero, Miggy," he knows it isn't love you're talking about. Early in the morning, you need sex. He knows how insatiable you are even without your hands slinking around his muscular thigh, inching their way where they had no business going. He cups your hand and pushes away from his softness, knowing he has no time to spare getting worked up. Distracted. It's time to work.

"Manaña. Go back to sleep, I have things to do."

"Tomorrow? I'm not a tomorrow kinda girl, Miggy. " You're that kind of woman-- needy, achy, you need more from him. No matter how much he gave you with attentiveness and care, he could never give you enough. Your words are clear as you turn away, pouting. Miguel throws a look over his shoulder. "You're the only one who treats me like this."

There's the fit. Miguel ran his hand through his hair, shoving it out of his face as he gathers his bearings. You're slack against his back, lips curling into a pout at his suggestion that you'd simply have to wait for more attention.

"No empieces," he throws back. "I spent the night with you two nights in a row."

"To get off. Hobie's right about you. You'd never go to a show'a mine."

If there were ever an interloper in your relationship. It was, and would forever be, Hobie Brown. The displeasure on your face gently pulls at his heart. He's never been to one of your shows before. He's never even asked. It never seemed important to you until now.

He could do that.

"Where and when," his stomach roiled with something he'd distantly call anxiety. There was a truth to what Hobie said, he couldn't be a good boyfriend and take care of spider society all alone. He'd sure as hell try. If you thought Hobie was better, so be it. Miguel wrinkled his nose, concern lining his bushy eyebrows as he stood up, hands on his hips.

"Oh Miggy, that's just what I wanted. It's tomorrow!"

"Tomorrow, then."

Isn't that what he said earlier?

"Hobie!"

It doesn’t matter where it is, your eyes always seem to find Hobie. Ideally, Miguel would like your eyes to always find him. You spent the night in his arms yesterday and the night before that. Perhaps that was why you missed the spider punk. So when he walked into the meeting early that morning and dropped like a rock on the elevated platform you sat on, he wasn’t altogether surprised that you turned around to look at Hobie.

He was, however, surprised to see your hand slink along his plaid thigh, tugging on his lax suspenders. You're late, he heard you whisper. Yeah, what you going to do about it? Hobie reached out, letting his fingertips ghost lines up your arms. Miguel barks out your name, your fingers snapping back as if a spider bit them. They might.

“Oh my days, bruv, we gonna talk about this?” Hobie ripped off his mask, dropping it lazily by your hip. You swept it up and set it on your thighs. He suckled along the roof of his mouth, pulling his lip piercing in and out with a deliberate, slow hiss. “Or you busy watching my side ting?”

"Hobie," you willed him down. Your eyes catch and hold. "Shhh."

“Mans right pussywhipped,” Hobie balked out a laugh, bouncing at that awful word. His jaw tightened at the distinct sound of Hobie’s hands slapping your shoulder. Hobie is in a mood today. He wouldn’t mind if he wasn’t being picked on. “Look at him, is he serious? You mad, man?”

Hobie!

“I’m not.”

“I like the sound of that,” he could hear you whisper into Hobie’s ear, his senses more queued into small whispers than anyone else in the room. You rolled the word along your tongue. "Pussy whipped. You next?"

It was like he wasn’t even there. As if every moment you spent together was irrelevant. The days that the tips of your fingers grazed his shoulder blades, sweeping across his tight muscles. He remembered how it felt, your careful kisses on his neck after a long day, the drag of your nails across his muscular back as you took him so well on the desk he lectured at.

“You bugging? You know that's not happening. You ovulatin' today?”

Miguel prompts your name. You sit upright, his perfect good girl, a whole other person when you weren’t around Hobie. His brow creases and lines of worry and disappointment coalesce into a look that invites you to behave. You were listening now with a blow of a kiss at him as though that would deter him from finding out.

Miguel doesn’t like it when Hobie takes the piss out of him.

He especially doesn’t like that Hobie seems to know the intimate details about your body, like your cycle. That near the end of the month, every month, your sex drive ran wild. He thought it was a myth. None of the other women he had in his bed acted this way. You, however, were insatiable. If he didn’t know better… He flicked his fingers across amber screens, doing something he never did because he had no reason not to trust you. He skimmed your file.

Hobie was a consistent fixture in your life. Always at his damn concerts, clapping wildly at his old runway shows, drinking at the pub. You were an outlier dolled up in soft white, sparkling glitter makeup and darling strawberry blush next to a group of grungy anarchists and foul punks. On any given day, you might hold his head in your lap as your fingers coursed through his wicks. On special days, you buy new jewelry to change out the old. Every weekend, you like to sit on his lap in the pub of the week.

The others were negligible. He could excuse them. Hobie was something more. All it took was one offensive recording of sitting on Hobie’s lap in a seedy bar for his mind to turn red hot.

Despite being populated with many patrons, it didn’t stop you two from fucking in the bar after one of Hobie's loud shows. Others did the same exact shit. The ringing strumming, the shouting, fighting. It wasn't a scene he could see you at.

"Right there, papi, Hobie, there," your hips ground down, sultry moans puffing against his spiked choker while Hobie’s urged you up and down his cock, groping and slapping your ass around his dick. Your pink ballerina flats willing the movement by using the footrest to help guide your motion.

"Good, innit?" You didn't just like it, he realized, you loved it. Your huffy moans, the stares from strangers, the way Hobie commanded the scene. The bartender even threw Hobie a beer. Miguel wasn’t sure if it was Hobie's arrogance that no one was a threat or arrogance that no one would protest, but it pissed him off the same. He fucked you like it was nothing-- like fucking you in front of a host of sleazy men wasn’t a risk in and of itself.

He was too informal with you. He didn't treasure what he had. It was not the same, not like him. He heard your gentle footsteps in the lab. He shifted his weight between his feet, turning to see you hop up the platform. You fluttered your lashes angelically at him. Mi rey, you trilled. Your king. As though he hadn’t just watched you get railed by Hobie only days ago.

It was a fucking trap. A trap he was buying into, drinking you in. You looked pretty without your suit, clothed in a white, fluttery dress that barely kissed your thighs and nothing more. Like a fly to a spider web, he found himself gaping with his lips slightly apart. He brought his hand to his slight mouth, wiping away all inkling of his interest. You pout.

Miguel snapped back to his monitor. It was your scent lingering in the air, hypnotizing his dumb ass, your body eager and ready for him to pound full of his cum. Why else would you be in his lab? When you were strung out on his bed, properly bred, and leaking his cum, he was happy. He was happy with the tremors that wracked through your pathetic legs, that you were finally quiet for once in your damn--

“Oh? What's that?”

Miguel’s attention snapped to your figure, sliding along the edge of his desk, moving his hand without fear. You replaced it on your upper thigh, driving it between your legs. Horny again. His blown pupils followed the motion of your hand. He cursed his body for growing warm at the sight and smell of you. He hardening up as if his body had learned what to expect in the many days of experience fucking you. Most would have reconsidered what they were doing to him. Not you. You had no fear of men. You wanted him. Were you that insatiable?

“Hobie n' me?” you shimmied your shoulders with a knowing grin. The screen paused on a wet, sloppy kiss, Hobie's teeth nipping your lower lip. He was a biter. How had he missed his bites on your neck? Your soft, perfumed hand cradled Miguel's cheek, peppered in stubble. Your lips shifted up, tracing his sharp cheekbones. “Aw. I missed you too, Miggy. I always miss you. You're my big man.”

Yours. He might as well have been yours because you sure as damn weren't his. You led him on your little fingers with words like honey. A soothing honey that threatened to suffocate him in the weight of the words. If he listened long enough, he might fall in. Guilting him about his lack of time for you, Hobie Brown, the relationship you had, the kisses you exchanged, the sex-- the lies you omitted.

Miguel glides the clip away, bringing another to inspect. You remember it-- the day Hobie found out you fucked Miguel after a few hours of reconnaissance went south. You hadn't meant to piss him off. You only meant to take care of your needs. Needs that included sex. He was a means to an end, a brute that could fill what you needed. That much was becoming real clear, real fast.

"It go that bad? He got you in a fit," Hobie says. He can't help but notice you wringing out your suit, flinging it in your half-filled hamper by your bra, standing in nothing but a pair of soiled panties. Bruto, murmured under your breath-- a brute. He was. Hobie flickered his fingers off his guitar, a stray note irritating your hypersensitive ears. You cupped your ears in protest. "Oi, why are you airing me?"

"I'm not ignoring you. I just--" you bit the words, warm dread filling your chest with the next lie you told. You twirled your hands one over another. "I have a sore throat."

"A sore throat."

He wasn't buying that either.

"It's minor. Just a-- tú sabes, a little thing," you turned your hand over, whirling your bra drawer open with enough force to rip it out. Another growl rolled free from your lips, picking a powdery pink set and shoving it promptly back in. The drawer sat off-kilter. Hobie flipped his guitar over his shoulder and met you halfway, his hand warm on your mid back. It should have been comforting. Something in his eyes, even now, felt off. He recovered before you could answer.

"You fucked that man? Are you mad or what, wifey?"

You couldn't help feeling like you cheated on Hobie.

He stood upright, ripping himself away from your body, and brought his hand to his face to focus his thoughts. He had been fucking you for months-- and for months, he missed it. Miguel searched your eyes for a hint of shame or embarrassment. You had none, not even a lick. You were a kid in a panadería. Not only could you have Hobie, with his slender figure and exhibitionist qualities, but Miguel too-- with his big dick and need for love at the end of a long day’s work.

You played him.

His breath hitched as you turned around, shifting your hips back on his. It was enough. He had enough. His hand slammed over the rim, locking you in place against his muscular body. There was nowhere to run, even if you wanted to. You were happy to be there. Miguel wasn’t. His fingers trembled violently, forming a fist. You knew he wouldn't hit you. For all his rumble and roar, Miguel couldn't hurt you nearly as much as you could hurt him.

“You’re fucking Hobie,” he breathed into your ear.

“Mmm.”

A slight, noncommittal noise slipped out from your lips. It was not a denial, but not an agreement either. Irritation rippled across his skin with every damn swish of your round hips against his, shifting weight from one ball of your foot to the other. His body was alight with your soft body drawing trying to draw his pleasure to the surface. You were trying to distract him. Miguel wasn't about to let you.

"Answer me," he bucked his slender hips into yours, forcing you to catch yourself on the desk. You groaned. He had half the mind to fuck you right there, break in your pussy and leave you drooling over his desk. That would be easy. That was what you wanted.

"It's just sex."

“Are you dating him?”

“We don't do labels,” you said.

Miguel wracked your head back by your hair. A strangled moan slipped free from your lips, pleasure rushing to your cunt. You liked it. There were important details he had to know. Like-- if you used protection, or if you were safe when you weren't with him, or how you rid Hobie in raunchy pubs, and if you made out with Hobie until it was time to sleep. You know, important details.

“I do. I don’t share my women.”

“Yours? Fucking a woman ain’t keeping her, Miguel. You never asked me out on a date, put a ring on my finger, nada. It’s sex. Don't pretend like it's anything more."

"Is that all we are?"

"I've been fucking Hobie for months, Miguel. You want me to drop him-- for you? You don't even have time for me in the mornings."

His hand uncurled from your scalp, shoving you into the desk. He leaped off the platform, trudging somewhere, anywhere away from your body. He feared what he might do next if he kept hearing Hobie's damn name on your lips.

He could have done it-- let you have Hobie if you wanted Hobie so badly.

But it bothered him. Of all the women he could have had, he picked you. You were the only one he let grab him, shove him into hallways, suck him off under his desk, and be thankful for the strands of cum painting your nose and cheeks. You were the only one who slept with him at night.

Did Hobie need you the same way? Did he want you the same way Miguel did-- when he was inside of you, clambering over your body like a hungry beast, making you lay there and take him as he laid his brutal thrusts into your pussy. The way he battered your cunt, filled it up with his seed. Watched you heave heavy breaths-- because you were his to fuck and fill. The prospect of filling you up with his cum while Hobie was doing the same thing… ticked him off.

You were his, a territory that Hobie had no business entering. You had none allowing him to. Hobie didn’t claim ownership of anybody or anything at any time. It went against all he stood for. Miguel was inexorable. He wasn’t so bothered about the details. So long as the result was to his satisfaction.

“She’s at home, Miguel,” Lyla squeaked.

“Alone?”

“If you mean with Hobie,” she popped over his shoulder, sitting as if on a cloud in her fluffy jacket. His eyes rolled. “Then yes, he's there.”

"Show me."

"Nah, nah, nah, he's gassing you. How that man not know about us?"

You sat on your kitchen table, plopped with a hunk of pizza between your fingertips from the pizzeria below your house. Hobie's boots were thrown beside your mini-skirt. His chew was lazy and long. You sighed through it. You nipped the last bits of crust and grease off your fingertips.

"No sé. We never been a secret," you wiped off the rest of the grease between your thighs, ignoring the thought of your very first time with Hobie. But it was persistent, tickling the back of your mind, raging havoc on your unsettled heart.

White was your favorite shade. It was light, airy, like the sky. The sensation of falling through tufts of clouds. But it also made the consistent British rainstorms all the more irksome. The way water dribbled down your wet suit, your nipples perked as you rushed into his flat begging for something else to wear, Hobie's laughter dying out into that deep, low hum. His band shirt was ruined with the sticky stains of his cum.

"You thinking about it again?" Hobie read the way your eyes glazed over in an instant. His feet thumped onto the floor, swiveling in his chair and parting your legs. He leaned forward, his hands on either side of your tiny miniskirt. Your eyes tracked his gloved fingers peeking underneath your skirt. Not to pull down your thin panties, but caress small, consoling circles. "Yeah. You are. We just fucked. You're insatiable, wifey. You wet already? Want me again?"

"Hobie," you breathed. "What if he don't come tomorrow?"

"Then he don't," Hobie outstretched his finger, rubbing your soft chin to look up. "You don't need that wasteman."

"I got you?" you slid your fingers down to his slender palm, gliding over the tops of his knuckles. Hobie's lip pulled into a one-sided smirk, nodding to the side.

"Yeah, you got me."

By the time Hobie left, all thoughts of Miguel were non-existent. Mostly, because Hobie fucked you into exhaustion. You were out cold, strewn among fluffy sheets that wreaked of his musk of cigarettes and the sandalwood oil Pavitr gifted him. Hobie’s scent was here, there, everywhere it shouldn’t be as Miguel slunk into your slightly parted window.

Most offensively, Hobie’s cum was dripping out of your cunt. He suppressed the urge to roll his eyes. If you wanted him so badly all day, you easily replaced him with Hobie’s dick. He climbed the foot of the bed, watching your face twitch, almost trying to wake up from your sex-fueled haze.

“Mmm,” the small, ineffectual noise caused him to drift his eyes across your silky legs to your lips. There was a gentle pleasure in watching you sleep. He had seen it many times when he crept in the shadows when you were most beautiful. When you were half asleep, your hands draped among fluffy pillows. To be the first sight in the morning, and if possible, the last thing you thought of at night.

If he weren’t so angry with you, you would have been a vision for his sore eyes. His fingertips swerved up and down your inner thigh, curling around until he found your vulva, still swollen and wet from sex with Hobie. Miguel urged his thumb over your swollen clit, zig-zagging along to separate your folds.

As he suspected-- you had fucked him. Miguel urged the cum out of your system with a squeeze of your folds, rolling his fingers along the outer lips. His dilated eyes flickered up, catching a soft sigh in your chest. His fingers breached your wetness, easing the cum free from your body with small sweeps of his fingers.

“Mmm?” you breathed. His fingers slipped away, dragging your hips to his waiting mouth. Caked in the allure of sleep, your moan went without a response. Miguel’s pink tongue separated your folds, small mincing suckles coursing from your entrance to weave around your folds, deliberately avoiding your waiting clitoris.

"Who's it?" The pressure caused your lids to spread apart, lifting your hand from the lush silk pillow under your head to the top of his head. His tongue languidly coursed back down, poking at your entrance. The coziness of your sleep faded away. You dropped a hand to the top of his head to run through his thick dark brown hair, his sharp eyes flicking up to meet yours. Miguel could definitely have been a dream, but he wasn't.

“Miggy… I missed you,” you complained, reaching for the soft pink strawberry he won you once upon a time at a carnival. You had to beg, and beg, and blow his cock under his desk to get him to go. You looked so damn cute. Innocent. You were neither. “You should have come earlier--”

“To see you fuck Hobie?” he blew warm air against your cunt. Your hips shuttered against his face, thighs knocking his sharp cheekbones.

"You're still mad at me." This time, shame surely caught in your chest, a tremor of mean pleasure was minced with the pain of letting Miguel down. He knew it did. You wouldn't look him in the eye again but gripped the comforting strawberry a little harder.

“Considering you fucked him after we spoke, it’ll stay that way.” Miguel rose his hand to caress the outside folds as he worked, slurping the inner ones between his lips. You winced when his wet finger slid inside your hole. It squished obscenely, hungry and wet for his touch after such a tiresome day of longing.

“It’s-- it’s still sensitive.”

“I don’t care. You lied to me.” A brief glance at any watch would reveal that you’d barely slept at all. Miguel wouldn’t let you have rest, not if he could hold you accountable for your games with his heart and dick. His lush lips closed over your clit, flickering and sucking sloppily, drawing shocks of pleasure down your spine. You dug the heel of your palm into the sheets, struggling to slide out from under him. It was too much to wake up to after a fuck with Hobie who, from his files, apparently just loved to edge you.

"No, you don't. Come here." Miguel lurched his arm around your waist, dragging you back onto his face. Ah! Your hand shot to his forearm, battling out with his upper body strength to push him off. You couldn’t. Miguel was too strong. He was going to make you cum.

Pressure welled up in your stomach, forming a blinding burst of pleasure that threatened to let go. You knew it was coming. You knew there was nothing you could do about it but let him force another orgasm out of your cunt, twirling his fingers against your sensitive bundle of nerves. In place of a sweet, soothing orgasm, hard pleasure ripped down your spine. It nearly hurt, forced out by his flicking tongue. Your legs tremored around his head, cupping him in place until you couldn’t give him any more of your sweet love.

“Miguel, Miguel please--” Warm tears pricked your cheeks, sliding down to your jaw. He kept his eye on you. Your skin was warm, mind dizzy, wracked with his complaints. “I didn't mean to lie to you. I promise. You-- you never asked.”

“Shut up,” Miguel forced your hips off his face with a sharp shove. Your hips bounced on the bed, a broken cry slipping from your lips at his abuse. He came for one thing, one thing only, and fuck more foreplay. Somedays he had the temperament for it. Today, with your daring admission that you had been fucking Hobie, he had none. "I don't want more pretty lies."

"They aren't lies," you bit out, scrambling underneath him, legs tightening shut. You just needed a moment to explain-- and if holding sex back would do it, you'd try. Miguel pulled himself free of his suit and pulled you back into place. Overstimulated tears pricked your eyes, "Miggy please-- Not yet--"

He looked down at you, eyes unfeeling, unreceptive to your pleas. His cock bobbed over the top of your vulva, thick and hard, dribbling with anticipation to replace Hobie’s cum with his. You bit hard on your lower lip, sucking your tongue over the loose cuts. “If you would have asked--”

“Since you’re so insatiable, you’re going to take this dick next,” Miguel gave a few lax jerks at the base, lining up his cock with your tense entrance. He felt you clench your walls, some piteous attempt to keep him out, to allow you to explain.

“I'm still sensitive, Miggy, please. Slow down, you're too big--”

“Think about this next time you fuck that punk.”

Despite your protests, Miguel pushed the head of his cock into your entrance. A moan wracked free from your lips. He knew it was your favorite part, the way he split you wide on his cock, pulling your walls apart. He bottomed out balls deep in your cunt, finally looking so full-- so full of Miguel after a long, arduous day of teasing him for just this. Your hand came to your stomach, buried so deep you swore you could feel him in your guts. Your lashes fluttered, recognizing that this Miguel-- this Miguel wasn’t the man you knew. Not the one who was cold out there, patient in your bedroom. Something snapped. You cracked him.

“¡Ay!” you exclaimed, then clamped your mouth shut. He wasn't going to accept any complaints. Miguel’s hands clasped over your lower ribs, the slide of tears down your soft cheeks biting your skin raw. “Miggy, Miggy.”

“After all that teasing today, you can’t take my dick?”

“You’re too-- you’re too thick.”

“Tragedy, you’ll have to take me anyway,” he mocked, sliding his forearm underneath your head to keep you stable. Your skin prickled, wanting to believe the closeness he forced was as much for you as him. Your hands came to his chest, bundling up his suit between your fingertips. You needed something to anchor to. Your legs bobbed around his hips as he drew his smooth thrusts into you. Long, punctuated sweeps of his cock filled the deepest parts of your body over and over, stretching your sweet cunt full of him. “What? Am I not enough?”

“No, you are! I just, I love him--” your legs pathetically clung to his hips, trying to force Miguel’s full, sweeping thrusts to slow. Between the two men, you would be sore the next morning. Love him-- the words earned an intensity of his thrusts that you could only try to slow down by squeezing your walls around him. All this time he thought it was him, his inability to bend to your every need when you wanted it done. Your whines drifted off, melding into sweet, gentle moans of approval with every deep swipe of his hips knocking into your cervix. Wet, sloppy kisses marked your neck-- and if you weren't mistaken, the soft tickle of his own tears. The sensation of his liquid need, the hiss of his breath, bounced against your neck. “I’m sorry.”

“You’re going to be.” His other hand jammed between your legs, flicking at your already pulsing clit once again. It hurt how badly you needed it. You pulsed over his dick, a flurry of frantic perdóname slipping free from your lips over and over, a disc stuck on repeat. Miguel’s moans ripped through the room, the desire for air a secondary thought. You never heard him so loud, so enraged, even earlier today.

You came, wet and sweet over his swollen dick, for the second time since he showed up. A fourth since Hobie was here. You couldn't breathe, pinned between his chest and the bed. Your thighs tremored piteously around him, searing with pleasurable heat. You accepted his last frantic thrusts, marked by a sharp grunt. His wet cum spilled into you, hips snapping to your core to ensure you took every last bit of his seed. You buried your head between pillows and his fist under your neck, tightening and loosening. Your head was thumping, sweat cloaking his suit. When Miguel was finally spent, he pulled free, gloops of cum slipping free along with him. He threw you a look, recording the memory of your ruined body in his mind.

“Miguel--” you reached out. Or tried to. He jerked to the edge of your fluffy bed, his hands wrangling sweat out of his long hair.

“Let's stop seeing each other."

Seconds passed before you could articulate the right words, watching his chest rise and fall with the tension. He fit himself back into his suit, throwing a glance over his muscular shoulders when you cried his name. For a moment, you didn’t know what to say. Only…

“I… I didn’t know you would care.”

He steeled himself to your words from the gentle touch of your fingers on his elbow, trying to reason with him to lay in bed. He wouldn’t. Not this time. You crawled over, trying again. Realistically, you held little hope that he'd let you touch him. Not if he was banishing you from his life. Optimistically, all he could do was throw you off again. You considered yourself lucky that he allowed your arms to slide about his waist and press your breasts against his rising and falling back.

“I did.” But he acted as though he didn't. The words felt small as if they didn't fit in your mouth. He cared. Miguel ran his hand down, then up his head again, exhaling a wilting breath. "Mira… let me go," he sighed, loathing the words on his tongue. He wasn't enough. He knew he wasn't. "I'm in the way."

"In the way? Miguel, you're never in my way."

You couldn't be this dull. Miguel loosened your hands around his waist, glancing toward Hobie's miscellaneous shoes at the foot of your bed. Your intermingled jewelry in ceramic little pots. Maybe he did see it. Maybe he wanted to ignore it, to convince you he was enough. Maybe he was the one that appeared every time you two were alone, not the other way around. And maybe he was the interloper.

"In Hobie's way. You can’t believe that he isn’t jealous.”

“Hobie doesn’t get jealous.”

“You're blind. Everyone gets jealous,” he scoffed. “Even him.”

“Even you?”

That shuts him up. You watched as he pushed himself off the bed, stretching out his neck and heading out your bedroom window. This time, you wouldn’t follow him to the lab, slink into his bed. This time, you knew he wouldn’t come back. It was better, this way, your lives playing out apart from one another. Some lives can't be pieced back together once their web breaks.

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munchmemes · 2 months

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hozier lyrics, unheard edition

❛ it can't be said i'm an early bird. it's ten o'clock before i say a word. ❜ ❛ how do you sleep so well? ❜ ❛ you keep telling me to live right. to go to bed before the daylight but then you wake up for the sunrise. ❜ ❛ you know you don't gotta pretend. ❜ ❛ don't you just wanna wake up dark as a lake, smelling like a bonfire, lost in a haze? ❜ ❛ if you're drunk on life, babe, i think that's great. ❜ ❛ while in this world, i think i'll take my whiskey neat, my coffee black and my bed at three. ❜ ❛ you're too sweet for me. ❜ ❛ i aim low, i aim true and the ground's where i go. ❜ ❛ i work late where i'm free from the phone and the job gets done. ❜ ❛ but who wants to live forever, babe? ❜ ❛ you treat your mouth as if it's heaven's gate. the rest of you like you're the TSA. ❜ ❛ don't get me wrong, you know you're bright as the morning, as soft as the rain, pretty as a vine, as sweet as a grape. ❜ ❛ everything in my vision is movement and life. ❜ ❛ springtime in the country, i can smell summer on its breath. ❜ ❛ everything in my vision, departure and death. ❜ ❛ this year, i swear it will be buried in actions. ❜ ❛ this year, i swear it will be buried in words. ❜ ❛ i feel as useful as dirt. ❜ ❛ put my body to work. ❜ ❛ the sun hesitates more on each evening's darkening with all things god allows remain above ground. like grief and sweet memory. ❜ ❛ sun coming up on a world that's easy now. ❜ ❛ after all, darling, i wouldn't sell the world the way things are turning. ❜ ❛ if it falls, i would hold on for all it's worth. ❜ ❛ the future's so bright it's burning. ❜ ❛ the martyrs of our revolution, their spinning caused the earth to shake. ❜ ❛ the problem brought its own solution. ❜ ❛ i wouldn't fare well. hedgehog-under-a-van-wheel kind of wouldn't fare well. ❜ ❛ i'll take any high. ❜ ❛ i'll take any solitary pleasure that was sorrow in disguise. ❜ ❛ let the sun shine on me through a falling sky, i'll be alright. ❜ ❛ i'll deny me none while i'm allowed. ❜

#rp meme #rp starters #sentence starters #lyrics rp starters #lyrics starters #roleplay meme #lyrics rp meme #lyrics meme #ask meme

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unlawfulchaos · 9 months

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[This is what happens when you trap Maverick on a carrier at sea for several months, in shared bunks with Merlin, Slider, and Iceman. He finds new ways to entertain himself. Namely, antagonising Slider.]

Maverick: You know what I've always wondered? How do tall people sleep at night when the blanket can't go over them right to their toes?

Slider: Maverick, it is three o'clock in the goddamn morning.

Maverick: So you can't sleep, huh? Is it because of the blanket?

Slider: Maverick, I swear to god if you don't shut up I'm gonna-

Maverick: Sorry, what was that? I couldn't hear you through the blanket covering me completely.

Slider: I hope you die.

Maverick: Yeah? Well, I hope you step on legos.

Slider: Take it back. TAKE IT BACK RIGHT NOW.

Maverick: Barefoot.

#ice and merlin are going to smother the two of them in their sleep #ice is questioning his sanity because he knows he's stuck with them both for the rest of his life #(he loves them really but holy FUCK are they annoying)#merlin is questioning his sanity because he agreed to be Mav's RIO permanently so he's stuck with this too #save merlin and ice from the bickering idiots #mav and slider will antagonise each other for the rest of time #ice just wants them to get along with each other for once #(he doesn’t realise yet but it's more scary when they do get along because it means they are scheming and its usually against ice)#its worse when they team up #slider and mav live to antagonise each other #god help anyone who tries to pick on one in front of the other #they are protective of each other #the only one allowed to bully mav is slider #and vice versa #anyone who tries to defy this gets their ass kicked #incorrect quotes #top gun #icemav #pete maverick mitchell #tom iceman kazansky #ron slider kerner #sam merlin wells

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jeongheart · 11 months

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good morning

summary: sometimes, it's okay to be irresponsible.

w.c: 1k~

tags: established relationship, fluff.

a.n: college is really draining the life out of me so i wrote this today after my class because i was in a bad mood and wanted nothing more than to sleep. and ugh i feel like the ending it's too rushed but my brain wasn't braining anymore im sorry if it sucks i just really wanted some comfort.

leave your thoughts if you like, it means a lot!

It was warm, everything was. The sheets covering your sleepy body, the arm around your waist, and even the environment as well, considering that the temperature outside didn't exceed three degrees.

You felt on a cloud, dancing between the consciousness of knowing that you had to get up and the world of dreams that didn't want to let you go.

You were about to close your eyes completely again, until the shrill chime of the alarm began to interrupt the silence. You wanted to ignore it, you really wanted to reach your arm over the nightstand and press "off" to be wrapped in warmth forever, but you couldn't, the responsible part of you wasn't going to let you be fooled by the hug of the bed.

With a slight grunt, you took the phone that blinded you with its strong blue light and finished with the scandal that it emitted. You left the device carelessly where it was and rubbed your eyes to wake up, the sun hadn't risen yet and your mind couldn't understand being awake when it was still dark outside. You tried to prop yourself up on your forearms and lift your lower body to sit up in the bed and begin the hard work of getting ready for the day, but Chan's arm was still wrapped tightly around your waist, his head resting on your chest, letting out little snores from time to time.

He'd been working until two hours ago, your heart sank a little when he'd gone to bed at four o'clock in the morning, he was freezing cold from the unheated room he called his study and immediately sought comfort among the thousands of blankets you insisted on putting up every winter.

You couldn't wake him up, it would be cruel of you, and besides, he had the day off, so you wanted to let him sleep and take advantage of this rare occurrence. Carefully, you took his hand in both of yours and pulled it away from your body, he didn't flinch and continued snoring like a small child. You laughed softly and shook your head, he looked like a puppy at times like this.

The hardest part of your "get up" mission was to get your partner's head off your upper half, and finally free yourself from the confines of his grasp.

You began to get up little by little, making minimal upward movements, with your arms resting firmly on the mattress. Chan must have felt the disturbance because, with a groan, he turned his head away from you. Although he didn't turn to the opposite side, he had his arms spread out in your direction, and you saw in the darkness that his hands were searching for your figure in his dreams.

Without being tempted to return to his arms, you got rid of the warm sheets that were on your body and sat on the edge of the bed, feeling for your shoes. The floor was freezing cold and you definitely didn't want to get sick from walking barefoot into the kitchen.

Once your hand made contact with your crocs, you made the attempt this time to leave the bed but, surprise, a hand took your wrist without force but with conviction: 'you are not going to leave this place'.

You turned with a smile forming on your face and saw a very sleepy and disheveled Chan blinking rapidly, his eyes adjusting to the darkness until he found your face.

"Where are you going?" He questioned hoarsely.

You laughed a little and shook your head, you approached his figure and gently removed the rebellious curls that fell into his eyes, he continued to stare at you without understanding the situation.

You gave him a kiss on both cheeks, and then a very soft one on his parted lips.

"I have class today, my love" You whispered a few inches away from his face.

Without waiting for him to respond, you stepped away to continue (well, start) your morning routine. But Chan was still clinging to your wrist like a koala.

"Don't go, stay with me" He asked as he approached you, a little more alert now.

Again, you laughed at the same time that you started to get dressed, still sitting on the bed "I can't, I don't understand anything and I have an exam coming"

When you finished putting on a hoodie Chan sat behind you, trapping your hips and legs with his and hugging you around the waist, and soon you were completely surrounded by him. You could feel his breath on your neck (because he loved to rest his head in the space between your neck and your shoulders), his hair tickling your ears, and the scent of his cologne that never went away no matter how many hours passed since he applied it.

His bare chest felt warm against your back, even with the thick garment you were wearing you could feel the heat emanating from his body. You sighed and closed your eyes, you were firmly considering throwing all your responsibilities out the window at the insistence of your boyfriend with a golden retriever complex.

Chan rubbed his cheek against your neck, murmuring "please, just for today" and "it's very cold, let's go back to sleep" And more variants that all had to do with not allowing you to leave.

You put your hands on his that were still on your waist and you nodded, careful not to hit him in the face "Okay, okay, you win this time", you were amazed at how easily you gave in to his words, but in your defense, it was very hard to say no to Chan, especially when he brought out the heavy artillery and started acting like a big teddy bear.

He let out a small cry of victory and, without waiting for any other reaction on your part, he turned you on your axis so that you return to your initial position of lying on the bed. You laughed throughout the entire process and, when you were covered by the sheets again, Chan wrapped you in a tight hug, pulling his weight onto your body again.

"You're a cheater, you did the same thing to me two weeks ago" You told him after a few minutes of silence.

Chan snorted.

"Sometimes you have to be a little irresponsible, my love"

You rolled your eyes even though he couldn't see you "If I fail you have to invite me to an all-inclusive dinner"

"You know I'd do it anyway, but it's a deal" You sighed happily at his statement.

"But I know you won't fail, because you're smart and you can do anything you set your mind to" He whispered while caressing your hair.

You smiled for the nth time that morning, feeling how the stress you've been building up for weeks lessened up a little bit after hearing those words. Just as you were about to thank him for taking care of you and your worries, Chan's breathing became more calmed as he fallen asleep again.

#stray kids fluff #bang chan fluff #bang chan x reader #stray kids imagines #stray kids scenarios #skz soft thoughts #skz scenarios #skz imagines #skz x reader #skz fluff #stray kids x reader #kpop scenarios #kpop imagines #bri writes

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