#I wear glasses and they make my eyes appear small | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

dante-mightdie · 26 days

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A small req? Wheree we're a milf and our incel son eventually joins the military (you choose if he joins the military or meets at a bar I ain't gaf) and meets Ghost, 141 whatever. He brings Ghost home to his basement room(or the 141 bb do whatever you want) and ghost is surprised n shi that we this incel momma when we com with snacks or something like 'get outta here mom you're embarrassing me Infront of my new friends!" Is our sons reaction or sum. And ghostie pookie excuses himself up to the bathroom to sloppily makeout with us 🥺

nobody look at me i’m foaming at the mouth

c/w: simon is kinda strange but in a weird sexy way, mentions of misogyny, talks of sex must no actual smut, housewife kink kinda

it’s no secret that your son is a nasty little misogynistic shit. everyone on base has had the experience of standing next to him on a night as out when he gets a drink thrown in his face by whatever girl is he was chatting to

they’d been there every time he dogs out in front of everyone when you visit him on base. watching your eyes well up when your son tells you that he doesn’t like your new haircut or dress, that you’re too old to wear stuff like that

simon tried not to judge, appearances can be deceiving. perhaps you’re not all smiles and baked goods, maybe you’re an awful mother behind the scenes. he really tried. until he found out the real reason your son treats you like shit…

“she made my dad leave. he told me after they divorced that she wasn’t giving him what he needed, that’s why he had to go and get it somewhere else.” your son finally admitted one night after going through half case of beer

simon felt his hand tighten around his bottle as your son continued to ramble about how you were always busy with shit jobs. waitressing, cleaning or retail. he spent most of his childhood never getting all the latest toys and clothes because you could never afford it, too busy catching up on late bills to make sure there was a roof over both of your heads

“she’s so selfish.”

‘fuck being non-judgmental’ simon thinks. this kid doesn’t know how lucky he is. having a such a lovely mum like you, never losing your patience with your son even when he treats you like dirt. always trying to greet him with a hug or kiss just for him to push you away. begging him to call when he’s away just so you can know your boy is safe :(

“sounds like your mad at your mum for being the one that stuck around, lad.” price buts in, shaking his head with a small laugh.

you had been a topic of discussion the night after your first visit to the base. the product of a few glasses of bourbon shared between simon and john

“did you see the new recruits mother? fuckin’ hell, if I were 10 years younger I’d be all over that.” price admitted, adjusting his hips as he leaned back in his desk chair. simon let out a small grunt of agreement, having thought about this since he first laid eyes on you

simon had come to the conclusion that you both just needed a good man in your life. your son needed a father figure that would actually stick around, he could tell by the way your son looks up to him and the captain, eager to impress them

and you. oh, you. with your sweet, simple dresses and adoring smile. simon wishes you’d smile at him like that. all that cooking that your son lets go to waste could go to him instead. you could cook his favourite dinners for him and take care of his house whilst he’s away at work, whipping the boy into shape. teaching him every thing that your sack of shit ex-husband clearly didn’t

he’d be so good to you too. he knows it’s been a while since you’ve had a man to take care of your needs. he sees the way you nearly drool as you watch him running laps around the field, tatted arms on display. he’d spit you open so nicely on his cock and he knows you’d take him so well too, your pretty cunt would he creaming all over him

he soon takes advantage of this knowledge, subtly convincing your son to invite him over to your home on leave. dropping some story about how his flat is getting some work done and that he only lives 20 minutes from you both. your son was quick to offer the lieutenant a place to stay, telling him that he could take your room. that you could sleep on the couch for a couple weeks.

‘we’ll share the bed.’ simon thinks, but he doesn’t dare say it to your sons face. can’t have this little brat meddling with his plan

his arrival is clearly a surprise to you from the way you rush about shortly afterwards to start scrubbing the house top to bottom, rattling off apologies about the state of everything. simon quickly shuts down any offer of him taking your bedroom

“keep your bed, love. I’ll take the sofa.” he grumbles, sipping the tea that you made for him whilst your son rolls his eyes from the other side of the kitchen

he can see the way your eyes look at him with this longing. he knows it won’t take much to get you into bed. poor thing that hasn’t had anyone to look after her for years

he spends the next few days proving to you that he can provide. helping you carry anything heavy, drying the dishes after you’ve watched them, fixing the handy jobs around the house

you’re constantly praising him, focusing your love and attention towards him instead of your ungrateful son and the boy hates it. which is just the cherry on top, simon thinks

“your mother is so lucky to have a son like you. you must help her around the house all the time!” you coo, fidgeting with your skirt

“my mum passed away… jus’ me left out of the whole family.” simon admits, solemnly

“you poor thing, I’m so sorry. you’re welcome here anytime…” you gasp softly, placing your delicate hand on his arm and squeezing the muscle of his bicep gently and simon is ashamed to say it made his cock twitch against his thigh

“thank you, sweetheart… such a lovely girl, aren’t you?” he smiles behind his mask, reaching over and wrapping his arm around your waist. he pulls you against him, putting one hand over your mouth to keep you quiet as he hoists you up onto the kitchen counter

he squeezes his large frame inbetween your spread legs, leaning forward to look into your widened eyes

“been so good to me, love. taking care of me. such a good mum to your son, ya just need a good man to be a wife to, don’t you?” he says, pushing your skirt up your lap and revealing your thighs to him

he feels your thighs squeeze his waist, an aroused reaction from you. your body slumps into his with a natural submission that makes his cock ache. he lowers his hand and hooks his mask over his nose, revealing the scar running over his lip

“s’alright, darling. ‘m here to look after you now. me, you and the boy will be a nice happy family, yeah?” he says with a small smirk. leaning forward to mould his lips against yours before you can answer

he hears the little whimper you let out as you kiss him back, a little sloppy and inexperienced from years of being single, too busy with your son and work to date

but that’s okay because simon’s here now. ready to claim his family.

#mw2 #cod mw2 #ghost #simon ghost riley #simon riley #simon riley x reader #ghost x reader #simon ghost riley x reader #ghost simon riley

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vanteguccir · 2 months

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Tiktok trends | Chris Sturniolo

Chris Sturniolo x reader

Summary: 4 times that Y/N and Chris made a couple's trend on tiktok.

Warning: None.

Requested?: Yes, by anon.

Author's note: That is my work, I DON'T authorize any plagiarism! | English isn't my first language, so I'm sorry if there's any grammar error.

PS.: This happens in the same universe as the Guess who's who | Chris Sturniolo.

PS. 2: I made a part 2!

༻✦༺ 　༻✧༺　༻✦༺

Since the pandemic, tiktok has become one of the most used social media in the whole world, thousands of people download it every day and thousands more create content daily or, sometimes, just post a video that explodes in views, many of them starting a career with it, or creating a hobby from it.

And that's what happened in Y/N's life. She was still finishing high school when she posted her first video on the app, not expecting it to get more than 10 likes.

She was at the triplets' house, still in Boston, watching a movie with her boyfriend, when that same video exploded, reaching more than 300 thousand views and 150 thousand likes.

So, while Matt, Nick, and Chris were starting their careers on their new YouTube channel, Y/N was starting hers on TikTok.

Fans loved the fact that Chris's girlfriend had a TikTok account and posted regularly, after all, she lived with him in LA, which meant that the fandom had content of her and him together almost weekly.

Y/N was the typical influencer who participated in all the trends that interested her, from dancing or singing famous songs to recording herself cooking different recipes.

But the ones she loved most were the couple trends, and it was nothing that a few minutes of begging Chris to do them with her couldn't convince him.

Secretly, the boy loved making that mini videos for TikTok with Y/N; he adored showing that he was hers, how much he loved her, and how obsessed he was with her.

༻﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡༺

Chris positioned Y/N's phone on top of his computer desk, the device resting on his laptop with the screen facing forward, the TikTok camera already open, and with the audio already selected.

The boy took his Prada wallet from the back pocket of his baggy jeans, leaving it ready in his hand, hiding it behind his back.

His blue eyes glanced briefly at Y/N, who was on his right side and out of the camera's frame, a smile on her face as she admired him, waiting for the recording to begin.

He extended his right arm, clicking the red button in the bottom center of the screen. The melody of the chorus of Cupid's Chokehold / Breakfast in America by Gym Glass Heroes began to play.

"Everywhere I go I keep her picture in my wallet like"

Chris removed his hand that was hidden behind his back, showing the black wallet and opening it, holding it on the left side so that the right side was exposed to the camera, the transparent plastic holding a small picture of Y/N. His face appeared on the right side of the screen, a sideways smile decorating his face.

The girl was lying on Chris's chest in the picture, probably in their bed, the room was dark and the camera's flash completely illuminated her face, a big smile adorned her features along with her closed eyes.

Chris brought his wallet closer to the phone's front camera, holding it there for a few seconds before lifting it slowly and lowering it quickly while moving slightly to the right side.

"Take a look at my girlfriend"

Y/N's figure appeared where the wallet was, wearing a pink set from Fresh Love, a soft smile on her face as her eyes focused on Chris, a passionate glow in them.

"She's the only one I got (ba-ba-da-da)"

Chris returned the smile, placing his wallet on the desk and pulling his girlfriend's body against his, filling her face and neck with kisses. Y/N, throwing her head back with her mouth open in silent laughter, was the last image the camera captured before the tiktok ended.

༻﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡༺

Y/N docked her phone in the phone holder attached to the dashboard of the triplets' car, which she asked Matt to borrow the keys so she could go out to lunch with Chris.

She lowered the device's screen brightness, leaving it at minimum so that Chris wouldn't see the TikTok camera opened. Her eyes quickly went to her boyfriend next to her, seeing him scrolling through his own cell, probably looking for a nice restaurant for them to eat at, as Y/N had asked him to do.

She quickly clicked the red record button at the bottom of the screen, smiling briefly at it, an amused gleam in her eyes.

"There's this Osteria Mozza that looks cool. It's Italian, just how you like it." Chris commented, his eyes still focused on his own phone screen as he read the restaurant's reviews.

"Great, I feel like eating pasta." Y/N nodded quickly. "Let me just touch up my lip gloss real quick." She asked, turning her body sideways and reaching over to the seat where Nick normally sits, grabbing her purse.

She pulled it forward, slamming the side of it against the back of Chris' head, before placing it on her lap.

"Ouch, fuck! What was that for?" Chris's voice was high pitched due to the surprise of the impact, his cap almost falling off his head as his right hand left his phone and went to his hair, fixing the piece there while he looked exasperatedly at his girlfriend, his blue eyes wide.

The girl pressed her lips together as she tried to hold back her laughter, clearing her throat momentarily. She opened her purse and took out her Dior lip gloss.

"I'm sorry, baby. I didn't even notice. Are you okay?" Y/N glanced at him quickly, her brow furrowed in false concern.

"Yes, just be careful next time." Chris asked, removing his hand from his cap before turning his attention back to his phone.

Y/N closed the zipper after reapplying her lip gloss, anticipating her boyfriend's final reaction before turning her body again, raising her arm and taking the purse to the backseat, slamming it into Chris again, this time hitting his nose.

"Babe! What the fuck?" He frowned, turning abruptly to her as he brought his hand up to his nose, rubbing the area. "What the hell are you doing?"

A sound of laughter escaped Y/N's throat, her mouth falling open as a laugh escaped freely, her head falling back. Chris watched her as if she were crazy, the beginning of a smile appearing on his lips, his blue eyes running over her expressions.

"I'm sorry baby, it was for a tiktok. You're so funny." She said amidst laughter, pointing to her phone that was still recording them.

Chris rolled his eyes, a big smile taking over his features as his hand reached for the device. He widened his eyes at the camera playfully before clicking the red button again, stopping the recording.

༻﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡༺

Y/N took advantage of the fact that Chris was still brushing his teeth in the bathroom of their bedroom to position her phone on the nightstand on her side of the bed, the front camera capturing an entire side of the room.

She pressed her lips into a thin line, trying to contain her laughter in anticipation as she grabbed her pillow and blanket from the bed, gathering them both under her arm.

"Chris, I'm going to sleep on the couch tonight." Y/N spoke out loud, intending for the boy to hear her.

And he did, lifting his head abruptly and turning his body completely towards her, his toothbrush in hand and toothpaste on his lips.

"What?" His voice was muffled by his full mouth, his eyes wide as he watched her in surprise.

"I'm going to sleep on the couch today." She repeated, looking directly at him this time, making sure her body wasn't in full view of the camera or cutting into Chris's image.

"What? Why?" Chris asked again, a thread of sadness crossing his blue eyes as his brow furrowed, his mind working hard to try to understand what he had done wrong. A pain took over Y/N's heart, wanting to give up on the idea right then and there.

"I'm going to sleep in the living room, on the couch." Y/N spoke one last time, turning around and walking towards the bedroom door, in order to open it, but her action was stopped by the brunette, who spat the paste in his mouth into the sink and dropped the brush, running towards the girl.

"Wait, you sleep on the bed, and I sleep on the floor above a blanket or something, and tomorrow morning, we'll talk about it. Just don't let me sleep alone." He asked in a desperate tone, taking her arm and pulling her close, wanting to hug her and apologize for whatever he had done, even without knowing what it was.

Y/N looked into Chris' eyes, her own wide in surprise. She didn't expect that.

"Oh my baby, no! It's a prank, just a tiktok trend." The girl explained quickly, pointing briefly to the phone still recording before pulling Chris into her arms, feeling her eyes filling with tears and her heart warming with love.

༻﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡༺

"Nick, this is not that difficult. They only have two types: pink and purple, I want the pink one! Are you dumb?" Chris was talking loudly, his phone pressed on his ear as he was on a call with his brother, having asked Nick to buy a specific candy he knew Y/N liked on his quick trip to Target.

Y/N walked towards him with her own phone in hand already recording, the rear camera facing Chris, who was sitting on their bed with his back against the headboard, the blanket covering half of his body as the sound of a random series came out of the television.

The girl was only wearing small cycling black shorts and a Chris t-shirt that was huge on her body, covering her bra-free boobs.

She walked closer as she watched her boyfriend fight with his brother, a look of boredom in his eyes that quickly met hers, a small smile appearing on his face as he sent her a wink.

Y/N smiled back before stopping her steps, her free hand going to the hem of her - his - t-shirt and pulling it up a second later, exposing her boobs to Chris.

His blue eyes widened in a matter of seconds, his mouth opening into a perfect O. Nick's voice sounded shouting from the other side, demanding that Chris responded, but to his ears, everything seemed to have gone silent.

"Nick, buy anything, you name it. I need to take care of one thing right now, I mean, two." The brunette spoke weakly into his phone, lowering the device and clicking the red button to hang up the call without even looking at it, completely ignoring Nick's voice on the other end.

The girl let out a laugh, the image of Chris standing up abruptly and pulling Y/N against his body being the last thing captured on camera, before the tiktok ended.

༻✦༺ 　༻✧༺　༻✦༺

My asks are always open. Feel free to send requests or anything at all 🩷💋

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marvelfilth · 3 months

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The mustache

Pairing: Natasha Romanoff x f!reader

Warnings: none

Summary: Natasha crashes your date

Masterlist

You let a fake laugh bubble out of your mouth for what feels like a hundredth time this evening. Your date looks smug, her eyes trailing over your form, almost leering. She takes a sip of her wine and licks her lips slowly, daring you to look.

You don't.

You can almost hear Natasha say I told you so.

You clear your throat and take another bite of a perfectly made steak - the only saving grace of this disastrous date.

You mentally cringe, closing your eyes briefly. Objectively, the date is going well - she showed up on time, held the door for you, helped you to your seat and made perfect small talk, occasionally throwing in a joke or two. You can excuse her wandering eyes, knowing you've been throwing mixed signals all evening.

You nod along to whatever story she's telling, smiling and chuckling when it's appropriate. You barely resist the urge to excuse yourself. You chew on your lower lip, wondering how you allowed yourself to get in such a mess.

Your phone chimes once, screen lightning up with a new notification.

Natasha.

Yep. Here's your answer.

You look at your date, hating how different her smile is from your best friends. It's too large, too open and not even half as genuine. Natasha's smiles are small, barely noticeable, but they're enough to make your breath come short.

You sigh. You need to stop comparing your every date to Natasha.

“Do you mind if I take a look? It might be important,” you ask, reaching for your phone. She nods happily, waving the waiter over for another glass of wine.

How bad is it?

You snort, coughing immediately to cover up the sound and reaching for your glass.

Another message appears right in front of your eyes.

That bad?

You choke on your wine, discreetly looking around, but coming up short.

Six o'clock, dumbass.

You wait a moment and look right behind you, mouth falling open when you finally see her.

She's sitting three tables down, wearing your favorite hoodie and a black cap. With sunglasses covering her eyes. In a dimly lit restaurant. What makes you let out a strangled laugh, though, is a perfect old fashioned mustache glued right under her nose. She twirls both ends around her fingers, curling them up, before lowering her glasses and sending you an exaggerated wink.

The best spy in the world, the woman who made entire governments collapse, is sitting right behind you, looking like a child playing dress up.

You whip around, your face red, and wave off your date's concerned look. “I'm alright.”

She nods, all too happy to continue talking about all of the famous people she's met through her job.

You hide your phone under the table and shoot your best friend a text.

You're ridiculous

Her reply comes instantly.

And yet you love me.

Her words hit a little too close to home.

You are hopelessly in love with your best friend.

Another message comes through.

What's wrong?

You frown, eyes darting around. You didn't even do anything to warrant the question.

And don't even try to lie. I can tell something's wrong.

You sigh, tell Natasha everything is fine, and place your phone face down on the table, your date still recounting a story of how she met some actress.

The next half an hour is tense. You can feel Natasha's eyes on you. You can hear her plotting a way to get you out of here, but you know you have to at least try to make it work, if not with… Connie? Courtney? Then with someone else, before you go completely mad.

Your phone rings. You can't stop yourself from picking it up.

“Sorry, it’s an emergency.” Your excuse sounds bad even to your own ears, and you wince when your date pointedly looks away with pursed lips.

“Do you want me to throw her out of the window?” She starts without a preamble. “If not, I have a knife in my boot and you know how good I am with knives.”

“Can't you handle it without me?” You ask, knowing Natasha will play along. Your date reaches for her purse, dejected. Guilt swirls in your chest, and you contemplate your next words. Maybe you should stay and-

“Don't feel bad, she's been looking at the blonde to your right since she came in,” Natasha drawls, “and no, I can't handle it without you. I need you back home.”

You blush, biting on your lower lip.

“I'm sorry, but there's been an-”

“Just go,” your date cuts you off, “I'll handle the bill.” Her eyes are on the blonde girl before she's done speaking, and you leave with your conscience clear.

Natasha catches up to you outside and leads you to her corvette - her sunglasses and cap are gone, but that ridiculous mustache is still in place.

“What do you think?” She asks as she opens the door for you before going around the car and taking a seat behind the wheel. “I like the look.”

You snort and shake your head, amused with your best friend's antics. “It's… something.”

She rolls her eyes, starting the engine. “I know you love it.”

You hum, relaxing against the soft leather, your worries stoved away by Natasha's calming presence.

“Why do you keep going on dates if you hate it so much?” She asks when you reach Compound gates.

You sigh, think of an answer that would get her off your back without making her suspicious.

“I just… I-” you stutter, wincing.

Great.

She raises an eyebrow, looking absolutely ridiculous, but so, so beautiful, it makes your entire chest ache.

The car comes to a stop, and Natasha focuses all of her attention on you.

“I need to get over someone.”

There, you've said it.

“Who?” She asks, and for the first time in all the years you've known her you can't read her at all.

“You don't know them.”

She looks ahead, her jaw clenched tight. “How long?”

You blink away the tears. “A few years.”

She looks down at her lap, her fingers tapping against her thigh. “Who?” She asks again.

“Natasha…”

“Is it Carol?” Her voice is tight, her eyes dart around the street.

“God no,” you chuckle, thinking about your blond friend. Valkyrie would kill you on the spot if you even looked at her the wrong way, not that you're interested anyway. They need to get over themselves and finally admit their feelings to each other. Anyone can see their pining from a mile away.

“Kate?”

You shake your head. “You don't know them.”

“Then tell me. What would it matter?”

“Nat, can we just-”

“Tell me.”

You groan, and turn to open the door, but Natasha’s hand landing on your thigh stops you. You swallow, freezing on the spot.

“Please.”

You close your eyes, bracing yourself for the inevitable. “It's you,” you whisper.

The hand on your thigh clumps tight. “What?”

“It's you,” you repeat, feeling braver after the admission. “Always you.”

She lets out a deep, shaky breath, before reaching for your face with her other hand. “Look at me, please.”

You face her, eyes still closed, a few tears sliding down your cheeks. They're wiped away a moment later, and your face gets enveloped in the softest warmth.

“Open your eyes.”

You swallow, and do as she asked. She looks at you like you're the most precious thing in the world.

“I love you.”

Your heart skips a beat at her words, lips falling open. “What?”

She smiles, her thumb tracing patterns on your wet cheek. “I love you.”

You look at her for a long moment, taking in her features - her forest green eyes, tender and soft, the slope of her nose, so kissable. Your eyes trail lower and then suddenly a loud laugh makes its way out of your chest. You bend, clutching your stomach, happy tears gathering in the corners of your eyes.

Natasha looks delightfully confused.

“I'm sorry, it's just…” you giggle, pointing at her face, “the mustache.”

She groans, tearing it away. “I've been going crazy all this time, you know.”

“Yeah?” You grin, head spinning.

“Yeah,” she says before claiming your lips. She's soft, so soft it makes your toes curl and your chest get warm and fuzzy. The kiss is gentle, loving. You mewl against her, opening your mouth and welcoming her tongue.

The kiss grows heated.

“I,” you gasp between the kisses, “I love you. So much.”

You can feel her blinding smile in the next kiss, and the one that comes after.

#natasha romanoff x fem!reader #natasha romanoff x you #natasha romanoff x reader #natasha romanoff x y/n #natasha romanoff #black widow x you #black widow x reader #black widow #the mustache

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hellfirekitten · 4 months

Text

Okay, but what about an older sister who is so rude that it almost makes me think she hates me until one night she comes to my room with that typical angry expression she has every time she approaches me (and for some reason that makes me want to squeeze my legs together) and I think she's going to start yelling at me again because her eyes are on the blouse I'm wearing (one that belongs to her and I took without asking), but instead she grabs me by the neck with force to slam my small body against the wall, making me gasp in surprise at the sudden blow, and with a calm voice she tells me how sick she is of me taking her things without permission so she will teach me to ask for things please. She lets go of my neck only to grab a handful of my hair and use that grip as she throws me onto the bed. I try to stand up again, threatening to call our parents, but she slaps me hard, pushes me back to the mattress, and straddles me to prevent my movement.

She tells me to shut the fuck up because there's no one who can hear me and all I do is look more and more pathetic. She puts one of her hands in my blouse to play with my nipples and kisses my lips roughly to silence my screams and threats in combination with the small moans that her actions manage to get out of me against my will because her mouth is soft and sweet and her fingers know exactly how and where to squeeze. I stop struggling when she finally lifts the shirt and despite my embarrassment, I don't ask her to stop even though I refuse to appear pleased or needy (or so I think, because I actually eagerly reciprocate her kisses) at least until one of her hands venture into my shorts and I feel her laugh mockingly against my lips because of how wet I am for her.

She gets rid of my shorts without much resistance from me and then stands up to do the same with hers, inviting me to see what she will force me to eat while she touches herself for a few seconds before positioning herself over me to drop her pussy against my face. I try to stir in disgust, keeping my eyes and mouth closed until her hand starts caressing my pussy, all she does is laugh at how easy it is to tame me just by touching me a little and I curse because she's right and it feels so fucking good that when I least think about it, my tongue is already doing its work in her perfect pussy.

She brings me to the edge again and again with her fingers while moving her hips against my face, ignoring my complaints about the orgasm denial and telling me that I know what I have to do to get it. Then, when I finally give in, she pulls away only to grab me by the hair again and drag me out of bed and across the floor to the full-length mirror in my room, sitting behind me and making me spread my legs in front of the glass, forcing myself to look at how slutty I look while she fingers me and muttering close to my ear how disgusting I am for enjoying being fucked by my own big sister's fingers, all while I can't stop begging her to please let me cum.

#cnc k!nk #fauxcest #fauxc3st #sibcest #siscon #siscest #is this too long???#does it makes sense #give me a rude big sister asap

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moon-rivr · 7 months

Text

el arreglo

pairing: arranged marriage miguel x fem reader

warnings: miguel being an ass, guy grabbing the reader, oral (f receiving), mirror sex, and overall smut lol 🫣

author’s note: idk what my obsession is with writing asshole mig 😭 i hope you guys aren’t finding it repetitive or boring 🫣 anyways, enjoy <3

word count: 4014

When Miguel had agreed to this arranged marriage set up by your parents, he didn't seem himself having you bent over your shared bathroom sink as he pounded into you from behind, fisting your hair with one hand as he forced you to keep eye contact with him through the mirror.

It started off at another gala that your father frequented, in an attempt to make himself respected in the business world. His business had recently skyrocketed in profits and he was being acknowledged for the hard work that he put in, but that still wasn't enough for your father. Despite the fact that he was gaining respect from other businesses and gaining opportunities, he quickly became greedy and obsessed when he found out that he was still being ignored by some. With that greed and obsession, the sweet father who used to play Monopoly with you quickly disappeared and transformed into someone ruthless.

You decided to wear a blue dress that plunged at the neckline all the way to your breasts along with a pair of silver stilettos to the gala, making some heads turn at your arrival. Your parents quickly went to go mingle with some of the other guests, eager to make a good impression, while you sat down at one of the tables and sipped on a glass of overpriced champagne. You looked up from your phone when you saw a shadow looming over you, glancing over at the man who was standing in front of you. He was tall, taller than anyone else in the room, and his black hair was pushed back to perfection. Despite how devilishly handsome he looked in the black tux he was wearing, you couldn't help but be enamored by his eyes. They were such a unique shade of brown, almost appearing red when the light hit them right.

"What are you doing here all alone?" He asked, sitting down in front of you as he took a glass of champagne from a waiter passing by. "My parents are out mingling, but conversation about how the stock market is progressing doesn't seem very interesting. and what are you doing here joining me in solitude?" You replied, taking a sip from your glass as you took in the man sitting in front of you. "Like you said, conversation with people who only really care about how many zeros are in your bank account isn't very fulfilling," he remarked, clinking his glass against yours as he took a sip. You looked down to where his hand was holding the champagne glass, the comparison almost funny before you started to think just what he could do with his hands. You snapped out of it, looking back at the man who was smirking at the sight of your flushed face. "So what's your name?" You asked, leaning a bit forward as you set down the glass. "Miguel. Miguel O’Hara, nice to meet you."

Soon after you two had finished up with your champagne glasses, he led you outside to the balcony with the excuse of wanting to hear you better. You two leaned against the balcony, watching some of the other guests arrive or looking up at the twinkling stars. You found conversation to be extremely easy with him, he wasn't anything like the prestigious assholes that your father had tried (and failed) to set you up with. "I don't know, I feel like you're giving me that kind of angsty angry at the world type of vibe," you said after the conversation had turned to what high school was like, eliciting a small laugh from him. "Sort of, yeah. And let me guess, you were the popular cheerleader?" He remarked, leaning against the balcony as he looked over at you. You rubbed the back of your neck nervously, letting out a small sigh before deciding to open up to Miguel. "Uh, no. My dad was struggling to get above profit every quarter so we couldn't afford the extracurriculars. I mean, it wasn't bad or anything but I did end up being the joke of the school," you replied, leaning against the balcony now. "For what it's worth, I would've loved to be your friend."

Eventually after a while of conversing, Miguel extended his hand out to invite you to dance. "You are aware that there's no music out here, right?" You asked, letting out a small laugh as you held his hand. "We'll dance to the rhythm of our hearts," he remarked, letting out a chuckle of his own as he began swaying to an imaginary soundtrack. "I was aware of how corny it was when it left my mouth," he mumbled, his cheeks flushed a bit red with embarrassment. You continued to dance with him, enjoying the way his body moved against yours and the body heat that he was radiating. You looked up to see his gaze already on you, those brown eyes almost sparkling with something similar to desire. "I'm gonna kiss you, is that okay?" He whispered, looking at you for a response. You nodded, closing your eyes as you leaned into it. His mouth was soft, inviting and you could taste the champagne he'd drank earlier along with something just so uniquely... him.

You pulled away when you heard the balcony door open, seeing your father standing there with a smile on his face. "Ah, I see that you've gotten yourself acquainted with your future husband," he remarked, patting Miguel’s shoulder before he walked next to you. Your brows furrowed in confusion as you looked from your father to Miguel, seeing the same expression on his face. "Husband?" You asked after a while, rubbing your arm nervously. "I wasn't aware that it would be you that i'm marrying, but yes, your father thought that us getting married would increase our business profits," Miguel responded, his face turning stone cold and you started to grow annoyed. You'd expected this from your father, to marry you off for his expense without any regard towards your feelings but now Miguel was pretending like there wasn't a spark between you two?

A couple weeks after the gala, your father arranged for your marriage with Miguel to be in the city courthouse with only some of your friends and his potential business partners. You were in the process of moving your stuff into his place in order to make the marriage seem more legitimate. When you arrived at Miguel’s house, you couldn't help but admire the sheer size of it and the amount of expensive decorations he put up, but you couldn't help but notice that it was missing a touch of home. It was like something out of an Airbnb catalog, not a place someone came for solace. The living room was devoid of any pictures of him or his family, full with paintings that must've cost a fortune.

After you finished setting your stuff down in the room he'd set apart for you, you decided to walk downstairs to the kitchen since you hadn't eaten breakfast that morning. You noticed Miguel sitting at the kitchen table in a plain white tee and sweatpants while he typed something up in his computer as you headed to the cupboards. You grabbed a bag of chips and looked over at Miguel, leaning over the table a bit. Things had been distant ever since the kiss and getting married, but you were determined to at least try to get along with your husband. "Hey, how's work going?" You asked, looking at him with a small smile as you opened up your bag of chips. "Can you open that somewhere else? It's too noisy," he grumbled, not bothering to look up from his computer. You let out a small sigh and picked up the bag of chips from the table, starting to walk away before you heard him speak up once more, "And don't think this is going to be a loving marriage. This is only a business transaction and you just happened to be one of the pawns."

You decided to start distancing yourself from Miguel after that, which was considerably easier since he was always away on business trips or working late. You constantly found yourself crying over Miguel’s neglect, wishing that he would show you at least a smidge of attention, but those tears were quickly replaced by burning anger when he rejected every advance you tried to get close to him. Eventually, you started shutting down completely and only coming out of the room when he wasn't home or when you two needed to attend an event together. Even at the events, he still kept you at an arm's length and made a point not to speak with you until it was time to go.

An art showing you were excited for quickly arrived, and you found yourself giggling and smiling when getting ready despite knowing that Miguel wouldn't act differently from those other times. You dressed in a red floor length dress with gold heels, your hair and makeup styled to perfection. You walked downstairs after Miguel complained about you taking too long, seeing his eyes widen just the slightest bit as he held his hand out for you to hold. "You look nice," he offered, walking with you to the car. You'd normally be excited and form delusions about how things were improving between the two of you, but you didn't feel like raising your own hopes for once. "Right because I spent two hours getting ready to look 'nice'," you responded, taking your hand away from his as you walked to the car.

The drive there was silent, the jazz music playing on the stereo filling up the atmosphere. You knew that you'd basically just snapped the only olive branch that he'd offered you, but you couldn't stand to deal with the disappointment that came after realizing that he still didn't like you. You looked out the window, Miguel’s hand lingering on the side of your thigh as he occasionally glanced at you. You two arrived at the gala a couple minutes later, only getting close to pose for pictures and sell the image of the perfect marriage.

You walked over to the bar, leaving Miguel alone as he went to go talk with some of his associates. "One whiskey, please," you asked the bartender when they came over, your eyes occasionally glancing over at what Miguel was doing or who he was talking to. You tried to push the thoughts aside as you took a sip of your whiskey, listening to one of the auctions going on. You finished up with your glass around the time that the auction had ended, looking over to see that Miguel was still busy mingling so you decided to head out to the balcony to get some fresh air.

You were looking out at the night sky when you felt a hand on your shoulder, turning around to see a man around your age giving you a polite smile. "Hey, I couldn't help but notice you're here alone. Aren't you O’hara’s wife?" He asked, leaning against the balcony as he turned to look at you. "I am, but I’m not really that big on socializing," you responded, turning to look over at him. He let out a dark chuckle as he lit up a cigar, taking a huff out of it before he turned to look at you once more. "You know Miguel doesn't really love you right? He's only with you out of convenience," he said after a while of silence, closing the gap between the two of you. "Even if we are, I don't see how that's any of your concern," you said, the words came out more defensively than you had intended them to. His hand lingered on your shoulder, brushing a strand piece of hair aside as his eyes darkened. "I'm just saying, if you're ever tired of being in a loveless marriage, he doesn't have to find out," he spoke a while after, his hand still resting close to you. You were about to push him away when you heard someone speak up behind you, "Get your damn hands off my wife."

You and Miguel walked back to the car in silence a couple minutes after that encounter, and you felt like a scolded kid despite the fact that it wasn't your fault. Once you two settled in the backseat, he turned to look over at you, his gaze softening up just the slightest bit. "Are you okay?" He asked, surprising you completely since he'd never bothered to ask. "What does it matter, Miguel?" You responded, pinching the bridge of your nose as you looked out the window. He spent a couple minutes in silence, before you noticed that you two weren't headed back to the house. "We're headed someplace else," he said, seeing the look of confusion on your face.

His driver pulled over to a secluded spot and Miguel helped you out of the car, grabbing a blanket from the trunk. He set down the blanket and sat down, patting the spot next to him. "You didn't bring me out here to murder me?" You asked, a brow raised as you sat down next to him. "No, that's a completely different spot," he replied, letting out a small chuckle as he glanced down at you. You spent a couple minutes looking at the clearing and at the constellations before glancing over at Miguel, deciding to ask the question that had been lingering in your mind for a while now. "What changed? I mean, why are you so distant despite the connection we had when we met?" You asked, rubbing the back of your neck awkwardly. He let out a sharp exhale, turning to look at you.

"I had a daughter, Gabriella. She was the center of my world, y'know? And then suddenly, she wasn't in my world anymore and that completely destroyed me. It was easy flirting with you in the beginning because I thought it would just be temporary, but then you turned out to be my wife. It had nothing to do with you and everything to do with me. I'm scared that everything I love will end up destroyed," he spoke up after a couple minutes, his voice cracking a bit as he spoke. You were unsure of what to say, so you decided to stay quiet and simply rub your hand on his shoulder, but what you didn't know is that your presence was all Miguel needed to feel okay in that moment. You two stayed quiet for the rest of your time there, just taking the time to be close to each other and enjoy each other's presence for the first time.

Miguel had tried to be a more attentive husband after that trip, getting over his own fears and being vulnerable with you. He started talking to you about work, letting you ask stuff about his personal life, and let you sit down with him while he was typing away at his computer. You were scrolling through your phone while Miguel was working on his computer, not noticing when he had moved over to the couch to sit down next to you. "I have a business trip to go to, but I want to take you out on a proper dinner date when I get back. I know I haven't been the ideal husband but I'm trying here," he said, rubbing your ankle as he looked over at you. You placed your phone down, grateful at the amount of effort that Miguel was willing to put in to make the marriage a bit more bearable. "I appreciate the fact that you're trying. I can't wait," you responded, sitting up to kiss his cheek and hoping that the small act wouldn't scare him off. He responded to the kiss fairly well, returning it and turning the tv on so you two could relax for a bit.

About a week later, you had received a text from Miguel that he would be arriving from his business trip today around 7. You couldn't help but feel excited at the fact that you were finally going to go on an actual date with your husband, so you started dancing in the bathroom while you brushed your teeth. You spent about an hour taking care of your appearance, putting on hydrating face masks and shaving before going to get dressed. You settled on putting a short dress that complimented your curves perfectly with a pair of silver heels, the jewelry matching them. You took out your makeup bag and started to finish getting ready in front of the bathroom mirror, not noticing that Miguel had come inside.

He wrapped his arms around your waist, resting his head on your shoulder as he placed a kiss on your neck. "You look stunning," he whispered, the proximity of how close he was combined with the compliment making the wires in your brain short circuit. You turned around to look at him, seeing that he was already dressed to go out, with the color of shirt matching your dress and black slacks. You couldn't help but notice the loose tie hanging around his neck so you decided to lean in to fix it before he grabbed your hand, kissing the top of it as he looked up at you. "I wanted to be a gentleman and take you out to dinner first but I just can't help myself."

Miguel did quick work of taking himself out of his pants, placing you on the bathroom counter as he looked up at you. "Is this okay with you?" He asked, his hands gently rubbing on your thighs, not wanting to do anything without your proper consent. "More than okay," you responded, watching as he slid your dress up to your hips. He got on his knees, starting to lick a stripe up your thigh before he did quick work of slipping your panties down. "Such a pretty pussy," he whispered before he leaned in, running his mouth through your folds. His tongue explored every part of you, basking in the experience as he gently tugged and sucked. He licked a stripe from your weeping hole to your clit, your manicured hands tugging on his hair. He slipped his tongue inside, letting out a low moan as the vibrations went through you, causing your legs to twitch a bit.

He gripped your legs tightly as he sucked on your hole, lapping at the juices you were releasing. He looked up at you with his tongue buried in you, the tip of his nose wet from your juices. You let out a small moan at how pretty he was, your hips grinding against his face as you sought out more. "So greedy," he said with a small chuckle, taking his pointer and middle finger to tap against your lower lip. You opened up your mouth, your tongue running the sides as you sucked on his fingers. He took them out and got on his knees once more, slipping them inside of you with ease. You let out a loud moan as you felt his fingers curl to hit your g-spot, your toes curling in the silver heels. Your legs began to twitch as he started to suck on your clit, his tongue working expertly to provide you with pleasure you needed. His fingers and mouth worked in tandem to provide you with the stimulation you craved, your hands tugging on his hair as your hips grinded against his face. "I-I'm close!" You moaned out, the peak of your climax approaching quickly with every suck of your clit. With one final thrust of his fingers, you gushed around them, your face contorted in pleasure. He got up from the floor, his eyes on you as he sucked your release from his fingers.

Miguel kept you in the same position as he aligned his cock with your pussy, his gaze on you as he started to slide himself in. He let out a low moan as he bottomed out, his hands on your hips while he started off slowly. He grabbed his discarded tie off the counter, tying your hands together and your legs were on his shoulders, the angle allowing Miguel to slip in deeply with ease. He started moving faster when he noticed your hips moving against his, his balls slapping against your ass. Your walls clenched around him tightly, eliciting a moan to come out of him as he thrusted in you faster. The grip on your hips was sure to leave you bruises by tomorrow, but you couldn't find it to care with all the pleasure he was giving you. He looked up at the mirror, seeing your body underneath his and got an idea.

He bent you over the mirror, having you look at yourself as he slid inside of you once more. You pressed your hands down on the counter as he began to quicken up the pace, your back flush against his chest as you closed your eyes. He couldn't have that, of course, so he tugged on your hair, forcing you to keep eye contact with him through the mirror. You felt a new wave of arousal coat his cock as he maintained the eye contact, your walls clenching around him tightly. His balls slapped against your ass as he thrusted in deeply and quickly, seeking out for both of you to get to that peak. His thumb rubbed small circles on your clit, gently pinching it as he worked to give you what he could. "You look so pretty taking me like this, tesoro," he moaned out, raising one of his hands to slap your ass. You felt your legs tremble as he continued to hit your g-spot and his thumb stimulated your clit, quickly coming to your orgasm. (treasure)

Your release formed a creamy white ring around the base of his cock, your eyes closed in pure bliss. He pressed your face against the mirror, shaking his head in fake disappointment as he continued to thrust in your pussy, seeking out his own release. "Keep your eyes on the mirror," he said, the command coming out more breathless than he expected. With one final thrust, his cum coated your walls as he fucked into you. He let his chest fall against your back, gripping you tightly as he got his breathing under control. He slipped his softening cock out of you, his fingers pushing the cum leaking from your pussy back inside. You took his fingers in your mouth, sucking them off once more as you tasted the combined release from you two.

He helped you get cleaned up and even cooked up some spaghetti before he laid down in bed with you. He gently rubbed your shoulders as you started to drift off to sleep, his chest flush against your back. "Thank you.. for not giving up on me. I really appreciate it," he whispered, kissing your cheek as he stroked your thigh. "You're a person worth knowing," you replied, turning around to face him as your hand rested on his cheek. You felt yourself growing sleepy from the combined body warmth and how good his fingers felt on your skin. "You can go to sleep, I'll be here in the morning."

He, however, was not there in the morning when you woke up. You thought that after the time you spent getting close to him and especially now after having sex, he would start to open up to the possibility of advancing your relationship. However, it seemed like the act simply pushed him away further and erased the progress you had achieved. You decided to knock on his office door, getting tired of the silent treatment and mixed signals to ask what was going on and he simply responded with, "What we did was a mistake. I'm sorry that you thought we could be something more but you're just a business transaction."

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chaepink · 6 months

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DAY 31: A HOUSEHUSBAND'S DUTY | RIMMING

after coming home from a hard day at work, your househusband surprises you by wearing a maid outfit. though he's annoyed that you're late so how about you bend him over the kitchen counter and eat him out to make up for it?

⋆ ࣪. ❤︎ PAIRING ⸻ househusband!nanami kento x reader

⋆ ࣪. ❤︎ WARNINGS ⸻ dom!gn!reader, nanami in a maid dress, rimming, alternate universe, teasing, pet names, kitchen sex, fingering (m receiving), anal play, praise, edging

⋆ ࣪. ❤︎ WORDS ⸻ 2k words

KINKTOBER EVENT

Weight gets lifted off your shoulder the moment you walk into your place, the delicious scent of dinner hitting your nose and making you let out a hum. You immediately recognize it as your favorite meal.

Even since you and Nanami chose to get away from the magical world together and start someplace new, its been the best choice you two have made ever since. Nanami had offered to stay at home and take care of the shared house as you work and support the two of you. And lets just say that his cooking is some of the best you've ever tasted.

You quickly take off your jacket and shoes to make your way to the kitchen where the smell is coming from and a smile appears on your face at the thought of seeing your husband after such a long day at work. You had stayed at work for an hour and a half longer than usual due to technical difficulties and traffic but after getting through it all, you hurried back home to see your darling.

Though when you turn the corner into the kitchen, you stop in your tracks, your eyes immediately widening at the sight: Nanami is wearing a fucking maid dress.

"You're late." He mumbles without looking at you but you can still just barely see his flushed face. You rapidly blink to make sure you're not seeing it wrong as your breath is caught in your throat, your eyes roaming the back of his figure. The frilly black and white dress adorned with lace seems a couple sizes too small for him, the material tight against his skin and hugging him in all the right places. The short dress stops a little below his ass, barely covering the plump skin and sure to rise up if he bends down (or over). Black puffy sleeves adorn the dress and add to the overall cuteness of it.

The thought of dinner has left your mind the second you stepped into the kitchen and something else has taken your attention instead.

"Are you... wearing a maid dress for me, Nanami?" Though the answer is obvious, he doesn't answer your question and instead lets out a huff. You suddenly realize he's annoyed at your late timing and you chuckle.

You walk towards him and wrap your arms around his chest, playing with the adorable lace and buttons on the front. "Sorry for being late today. There were some difficulties at work, you know? Though you in a maid dress certainly takes my mind off that." He still refuses to look at you. You sigh at his pettiness as your hands slowly trail down his down, feeling his defined body under the thin material of the dress. They make their way down his exposed thighs and squeeze them, relishing in the way Nanami freezes and stops adding ingredients to the pot.

"Could I make it up to you, baby?" You tilt your head sideways to take a view at the flushed face behind his glasses and you grin when he finally glances at you with a hint of neediness in his eyes.

You can't help but go under the maid dress and grope his ass, loving the way Nanami lets out a gasp that turns into a small moan.

"Turn around for me." Nanami slowly does and avoids your eye contact and how the look in your eyes screams 'i just want to rip it off.' The buttons on the front seem almost as if they're about to pop off due to the size of Nanami's chest in the dress but it just looks so good like that. Now that he's facing you, you can finally see him in all his glory. Especially the bulge against his skirt that Nanami just prays in his head that you don't see or pay attention to.

"Already hard, hm?" You laugh at the way Nanami covers his face and groans. Seeing a 6 foot man who just looks so serious and stern all the time dressed in a little maid dress outfit—while its something you never would have expected—has your mouth watering. "Don't worry," you say, getting closer to him. Your body presses against his and you harshly grab his chin to look at you.

"I think it's rather cute." You begin to feel him grind his bulge against you and you quickly pull away from his body, making Nanami reach out to grab you but you slap his hands away, shaking your head. "No touching."

Leading him to a nearby free counter after turning the stove off, your hands begin to roam his body even more. Your rough groping and squeezing leaves Nanami breathless and hot underneath the outfit.

"All this for me? You sure do love spoiling me, honey." He lets out a grunt when you turn him around and push his body on top of the cold surface of the counter, his nipples immediately hardening. His face is pressed against the surface as his breaths become ragged.

"H-Hurry up, [name]." You chuckle at his eagerness. Though your husband is usually always quiet, stern, and serious, you love it when he becomes needy around you and when he surprises you with stuff like this.

The maid dress rises up his ass, giving you a full view of his ass as well as the pair of white lacy panties he's wearing.

"Holy shit."

Though you didn't prepare for the panties, you're certainly not complaining. A hand goes to the hem and lifts it off his skin before letting it snap against his hip. Nanami lets out a whimper at the feeling and your rough touches.

"I never thought you would look this good in a maid dress. I definitely should've asked you to wear one ages ago." You let out a small chuckle. Nanami turns his head to say something back, probably a sarcastic retort, but a squeeze of his ass again shuts him right up.

You pull down his panties to reveal a butt plug in his hole. Surprise after surprise leaves you eager to ruin him even more but a little teasing never hurts anyone.

"Already prepped, hm?" He quickly nods.

Nanami shivers when he feels your fingers grip the plug, slowly pulling it out at such an agonizing pace. When it's halfway out, you push it back in, making him let out a moan, his back slightly arched at the feeling. You keep doing it for a while and Nanami quickly becomes impatient.

"J-Just take it out already." He glares at you but the glare lacks any real threat. After all, you're the one in control and he doesn't look very threatening when he's bent over a counter in a maid dress with a butt plug in him. Nanami realizes that quickly and looks away.

You tsk at his bratty behavior. "I don't think you're in the position to be giving me commands, darling. Not when you're the one about to get your ass eaten too." Nanami chokes on his spit at your blunt words.

However, you decide that you've done enough teasing and pull the plug out of his hole, leaving him to squeeze around nothing and left feeling empty.

But the empty feeling leaves and the feeling of being full returns when you shove two fingers in him and immediately curl them, hitting the spot in him that makes pre cum splurt out of his hardened dick and onto the floor. You feel him grind against your fingers in fervor and you add another finger, stretching him out even more than the plug did. You still feel the lube he used meaning he must've prepped himself only a couple hours ago.

"S-Shit ngh g-go deeper..." You plunge your fingers deeper into him. His glasses fog up from his heavy breathing as your movements quickly make him fall apart in front of you. But before he could warn you that he's about to cum, you take your fingers out.

He groans in displeasure at you and you just smile. "I can't just be fingering you the entire time, can I?" You get on your knees and leave a teasing kiss on his cheeks. You give his ass a light slap before spreading them apart, revealing his twitching hole to you, making Nanami's dick twitch. "Though I'm sure you would still enjoy it."

He feels your intense gaze on his behind and his face flushes as he grumbles at you. "Q-Quit staring and get on with it." You roll your eyes. "So eager," you mumble under your breath.

Nanami practically melts against the counter when he feels your tongue begin to circle his rim, a groan bubbling out of his throat. You notice his knuckles begin to turn white from how hard he gripping the shelf above him.

Your tongue teases him as it continues to circle the outside before catching him off guard and pushing your tongue inside. It goes in easily due to the plug and your fingering earlier and Nanami lets out a high pitched whimper that certainly doesn't fit his appearance.

"O-Oh God..."

You hum at the taste of him and as your tongue goes deeper inside him, you feel Nanami slowly grind against it, eager for more. The harsh grip your hands have on his ass will surely leave red nail marks on his ass afterward but you've learned that Nanami is a fan of the marks you leave on his body and sometimes even begs you to leave them.

Now that the pleasure finally got to his head, he's gone rather quiet and isn't talking as much, only the sound of his groans and whimpers filling the room. The lewd, sinful wet sounds of your tongue in his ass makes his mind go mushy. It's so dirty but the thought only makes him grind against you even more. He feels his legs begin to shake and he could only let out a cry when one of your hands goes to his hardened dick and begin to pump it. His pre cum leaks out of his dick and onto the floor, making a mess on it.

The pleasure from your tongue and your hand on his dick makes his back arch as he subconsciously pushes his ass up in the air. The kitchen quickly feels too hot as your clothes cling to your skin. Your hands speed up on his dick, wanting to quickly bring Nanami to his release. Your hands bunch the material of his maid dress up his back as your hands grip his hips to push him closer to your face.

When your tongue hits a spot in him that makes his eyes roll and toes curl, Nanami doesn't have enough time to tell you that he's about to cum as his release hits him like a tidal wave, a loud moan erupting from his throat.

Nanami slumps against the kitchen counter as his orgasm sends shocks up his spine and his dick makes a mess underneath him and on the cabinet in front of him. Some end up on his skirt and you can't help but think how sinful Nanami looks with his dick out, maid dress wrinkled and soiled, and cum underneath him.

His breaths are ragged as he tries to recompose himself from his intense orgasm. His half-lidded, hazy gaze turns to meet yours when you stand back up. He sends you a half-glare half-pout look with his face full on red when you choose to lick your lips at him, grinning at his state.

Your hands suddenly make their way up his body and when you bend over to murmur in his ear the warm feeling of your breath sends shivers up his spine. "Shall we take this upstairs?" Without wasting a second to think about the dinner that needs to be made, Nanami nods.

It's safe to say that dinner was long forgotten but who cares when you have an appetite for entirely something else.

note: day 31! ugh it went so fast and now my first kinktober is over already :') happy halloween to those who celebrate it!

🏷️ : @Vealize21 @fabitheraven @sourissue @jksstuffposts @gallantys @tired-of-life-86 @ineedsleeporilldie @aphoneixnamed-angel @flawlessvictorymentality @wowonamo @euphiroo @saintravey @tomiokx @archer-fb @d1gitalbathh @Lifesucksweswallow @rxflen @aspengagrimlin @ilovemenwhowhimperandbeg @deffnotstarguys @laraleafs @lamees004 @literary-latte @cl-0-vr @qweenjx @katebaku7710 @yenakwyl @katsuslover @mysicklove @fairyvibez @someonepleasesedateme @arminsesposa

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sim0nril3y · 3 months

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Meet the Family

Pairing: Simon 'Ghost' Riley x Civilian!Reader Scenario: Simon has the joy of meeting your family and finding out why don't you see or talk about them all that much. This brings up some unwanted memories and feelings for him too. Warnings: No mask Simon (It's my personal headcanon in his regular life he probably wouldn't wear it), family drama, shouting, very small mention of Simon's childhood, family disapproval, family arguing, reader has family, reader has siblings, family names are established but no descriptions, canon-typical swearing.

It appeared that your phone was making more of a ruckus than usual later. It seemed to buzz and beep much more frequently, each time your eyes cast down to check it they narrowed, then rolled before you pushed the device far, far away from where you had to interact with it. Yet still it actively vied for your attention. “Everything okay, babe?” Simon quizzed, pulling the cork out of the wine he’d chosen and beginning to pour you a glass. “Fine.” You short answer replied, picking up the glass and taking a large gulp.

Taking a seat opposite Simon battled internally about whether to push this conversation anymore. He wondered, if the situation was reversed if you would have tried to get more information out of him. Bloody hell. You would. “I just couldn’t help but notice you seemed a little… upset by your phone.” Nodding his head in the direction of the device. “Is something up?”

For a moment you paused, mauling over the situation for a moment before letting out a low huff and answering. “My sister is having a ‘get-together’ for her anniversary…” You announced with a heavy amount of disdain in your voice. “We’ve been invited.” Of course, you’d mentioned your family before but until this point Simon had never met them and the opportunity had never been there. “Honestly, I’m surprised I’m invited Anna said it’ll just be close family…”

“Well, I guess you count as close family considering you’re her sister, love.” Simon pointed out and you let out a low huff again. “Who else is going to be there?” “My mum and dad. My little brother Peter. Obviously, my older sister Anna, her husband Barney and their son Hunter.” Simon couldn’t help but frown at that. It would be a lot of your family to meet at once. “And do you… want to go?”

Again, you didn’t have a response right away, eyes darting away before back towards him. “I… I don’t know…” Then shaking your head. “Anna is begging me to come, but I know that is only to get the heat off her because if I’m there then all my parent’s attention will fall to me and they will explain exactly where I’ve gone wrong with my life.” Simon couldn’t help but frown at that comment, he didn’t like the thought of your family speaking poorly of you. A heavy sigh escaped your mouth. “Would… you want to go?” The question came out tiny and vulnerable, like you might scare him off with that alone.

“They know about me?” Simon quizzed, he’d never met them and he’d never really pressed to do that, he was in love with you and that was all he needed in his life. “They do…” You replied evenly. “They don’t approve... It isn’t because of you.” You quickly add with wide eyes. “They don’t approve of anyone outside of the family. They hated any girl that Peter brought home and they tolerate Barney, but that is only because they gave them a grandchild to fawn over.” You explained before frowning. “Si, I wouldn’t blame you if you didn’t want to come…”

For a moment he mauled over his options, he could go and accept whatever snide comments and berating came from your family, or he could send you to the wolves and stay home like a coward. Simon Riley was not a coward. “Tell her we’ll be there.” He leaned over to clink his glass against her own.

It was a bit of a drive to Anna’s home she shared with her husband and their son, but that gave you plenty of time to fill in all the dirty details about your family. You had started with your older sister, she was seen as the golden child and your parents bragged about almost everything that she did, her perfect marriage, her perfect children, her perfect house and her perfect holiday home. You explained, Anna had gone to a top University to study finance, but during her gap year galivanting about the US she’d met Barney who’d promptly fallen in love with her and got her pregnant. This wouldn’t typically be too big of a problem, apart from the fact that Anna been engaged before setting off and in a desperate need to escape the monotony of her relationship and her perfect life she’d thrown it all away from another lad.

It was a blow to her parents that their perfect eldest daughter had this mishap, however the fact that Barney came from an incredibly wealthy family and owned his own tech company certainly helped ease him into the family. Then their grandson Hunter came into the picture and everything was a perfect ending from there.

On the other hand, there was your younger brother Peter who had barely scraped by in his school and your parents had to persuade Universities to accept him. He spent more times in clubs than in his classes. Your parents saw him as a typical boy, causing some trouble and chasing the ladies. Boys will be boys; they’d excused with a hearty laugh as Peter would be trotted to the cells for indecent exposer or public indecency. Still even after all the trouble he’d caused Peter was still the apple of their eyes, your mother fawned over him and your father tried moulding him into his protégé.

Then there was you. With a sister that was perfect and a brother that they dotted on that left very little time or energy for you. It seemed like you just slipped through the cracks. Even when they did have time spare for you every decision, you’d made they hadn’t approved. In their eyes, you were simply the wild little fuck-up. It pained and riled Simon that anyone thought of you as anything but perfect and good and kind.

Once they arrived at your sisters’ home Simon was surprised to find that it was an expensive looking townhouse that had been renovated to have some modern features. This strangle matched the dreamhouse that you’d muttered to him one night in your post-sex chatter, it made Simon wonder who had desired the house first, maybe it was you and Anna had simply stolen that dream to taunt you. Approached the modern frosted glass door, it opened and out stepped an older woman with a disguised smile on her face, dressed in a smart, conservative dress with sharp kitten heels. Your hand squeezed his own as you approached, announcing nicely. “Mum…” Ah, your mother, Cynthia…

“Hello darling.” Her voice was soft but hiding something, like a sickly sweet venom that was encasing you both. You had mentioned that she was high strung and highly critical, that remained to be seen. If there was one thing that Cynthia enjoyed in life it was gossiping, followed by bragging about her family, or at least some of her family members, certainly not you, you’d joked to Simon but there was a pained reality to that snide remark. “Look at you, that is certainly an interesting dress…” She observed, cupping your face then. “You look very tired, are you sleeping well?” The snide remarks had already begun, Simon observed.

You complained lowly. “Mum…” Then looked towards Simon, eyes pleading for some form of help or safety or escape but only found his own dark set that matched your own fear. “This is-” Cynthia cut you off and turned her viper grin towards at him, those dangerous eyes scanned him and searched for any little weakness or vulnerability. “This must be Simon.” Cynthia let out an almost cynical laugh. “Now, I must ask your sister to set another place, we weren’t sure that you were real…” It was another little dig that made you wince.

Cynthia then allowed the two of you to follow her further into the house, a lounge area stood before them and three men lingered inside of it. An older man sat on the sofa, drink in hand and head drooping, another around Simon’s age stood behind a small make-shift bar, cleaning glasses and straightening bottles of the labels faced out and proud and then across the room a younger man was texting on his phone. “Simon, make yourself comfortable with the men. That is my husband, Harold. This is my son-in-law, Barney.” Cynthia even gifted him a snide smile, the same she had done to Simon, they were outsiders after all, not as important as blood, simply there to give her grandchildren. “And that is my son Peter~”

Turning to you and lowering her voice, Cynthia said. “Darling, don’t worry that you didn’t bring a present, your sister understands that you don’t make a lot of money-” “N-no, I just left it at home.” You attempted to explain but your mother just chortled lowly and squeezed your shoulder. “Oh, I’m sure… just like how Peter ate all your Christmas chocolate when you were 10, hmm?” Then she poked your tummy in jest. “But I think we all know where it went.”

Simon forced himself to grit his teeth, looking between and watching you purse your lips, accepting the vicious attack with a tight smile and glossy eyes. “Now, don’t make that face~” Cynthia smirked directly at you, as if knowing she was pushing your buttons. “Come, your sister will want some help in the kitchen, I’m sure you’ll survive being apart from your boyfriend for five minutes, hmm?” Then looking towards Simon and asking. “You won’t mind if I borrow her, will you?”

More than anything he wanted to deny her, snatch you up into his side and away from anymore of her cruel remarks, but her claw-like hands were already circling you and tugging you from the room before he had a chance. The next moment, a presence walked up behind him and Simon turned to see a very happy looking man stood there. “Hey man…” A thick American accent rolled from him. “My name is Barney, you must be Simon, right?” He was quick to shake his hand and comment. “Quite the grip there, you play golf?”

Shaking his head Simon followed him back to where he’d been lingering (or probably hiding) behind his bar. “Do you drink, man? What’s your poison?” Barney asked enthusiastically, very proudly gesturing to the array of bottles that were placed behind the bar, squeaky clean but hardly used. “Whiskey. Neat.” Then leaning against the bar and waiting for it to be made. Another approached, this time your brother, tucking his phone away into his pocket as he sidled up beside him, elbows resting on the bar too, matching him stance for stance. “Simon, right? The latest addition to our fucked up little family.” Peter commented, his tone just as snide as his mother’s – the apple didn’t fall far, he supposed. “I’m sure my sister told you all about me…”

“She mentioned a few things…” Simon answered evenly, reaching out to take the offered drink from Barney, drinking it down a little too quickly to appear casual. Bloody hell, he’d been on battlefields and felt less anxious. “Well, I’ve got a few stories about my sister that I’m sure you’ll want to hear too~” The young lad began before Simon glanced in his direction, testing and bothered by his presence.

Sensing the impending tension Barney let out a hearty chuckle and said. “Maybe another time, huh?” Then giving Peter a pointed look. “Simon… what do you do for a job?” He asked in a friendly enough way, this seemed to catch the attention of Harold who actually glanced in his direction, quietly accessing and judging, it felt like you were the only normal one to actually come out of this family. “I’m in the special forces.” Simon explained, keeping his answers short and sweet, not allowing too many details to slip out, it wouldn’t be professional. They all had different reactions to this little piece of information. Peter quirked a brow whilst Barney grinned and nodded. “That’s tight. Respect, man.”

“A solider…” Peter muttered. “Lieutenant, actually.” Simon corrected in a sharp tone. There wasn’t many things in life he was proud about but you and his career were among the only few.

Again, your brother seemed to stir from beside him. “So…” Looking at him, wanting to judge Simon’s reaction. “How many people you killed?” The question was so crass that it actually made Barney gasp before letting out a nervous laugh and saying. “Pete, I’m not sure you can ask questions like that, man…” Then another laugh before giving his brother-in-law a soft punch on the shoulder, followed by a pointed look, don’t push.

There was this clear power struggle that Peter was trying to win. This happened often with rich boys like your brother, they saw Simon as a threat because he was physically much more impending than them, feeling even worse when they discovered that Simon wasn’t as dumb as they thought he looked.

“Not something that I keep count of…” Simon answered keeping his face straight, remaining unbothered. It was a good answer, it was formal and dignified, not to mention filled with some honesty. It wasn’t like Simon could even keep count anymore, even if he had wanted to. Peter seemed unimpressed with that answer and simply huffed before saying. “Bet you could think of at least five different ways to kill me in here, right?” Again, this spiked the interest of Harold, glancing in their direction.

Another challenge. Another prod. Another opportunity to attempt to make Simon look unhinged. Attempting to break the tension Barney laughed awkwardly. “This joker-” “I could think at least ten.” Simon retorted, dark eyes watching Peter to see that smugness falter for just a moment as true fear sank in. From across the room for just a split second Harold smirked then it washed away as he finished his fifth drink of the night.

The room was thick with an air of tension as you stepped inside looking completely flustered. “It’s uh… it’s time for dinner.” You informed them, frowning as you tried to access the atmosphere, approaching Simon to rest a delicate hand on his forearm, wrapping yourself around the limb. The room cleared out as Barney escorted his in-laws to his dinning room. Gazing up at Simon, you asked. “You alright?”

Simon’s eyes seemed to focus on where Peter had been escorted from the room, watching that area on alert for a few moments before his gaze flittered back in your direction. “Told your brother I could think of ten ways to kill him in this room alone…”

You blinked. Slow and calculating. Attempting to understand the words that Simon had just rushed in your direction. “Excuse me?” You muttered, staring up into his eyes in confusion. “Why… why would you say-” “He was pushing me.” There was an edge of frustration to his tone. You brother had gotten under Simon’s skin a lot more than he was willing to admit aloud. Reaching up you cupped his face and looked into his eyes with such care and sincerity, it really did pain you to witness your family treating him in a way that left him so anxious and wound up. “I believe you.” You whispered. “I believe you. I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. My fucking family… It’s my family, they make it their mission to push and prod and make your life misery. I’m sorry-”

A short huff came from Simon, leaning in to kiss your forehead gently and replying. “You don’t ever apologies for any of them.” He told you, voice firm and sure. There was no part of this that was your fault. You were born into a family of cynical fakers, wanting to make everyone else’s lives as miserable as their own. He hadn’t even been around them for an hour yet, but Simon could see that you were the only good thing to come from your family. He could force himself to survive the rest of the dinner party for you… but when this was over, he never wanted to see these people again.

“Come on, now…” Your mothers voice entered the lounge and she lingered in the doorway, big fake smile on her lips and glass of wine in hand. “You were late to the party and now you’ll be late for dinner too…” Cynthia chortled, clearly still holding that grudge. “I swear, my darling girl would be late to her own funeral too…” The comment was made as she swayed down the hallway towards the dining room, Simon simply grit his teeth and continued to bite his tongue. A few more hours, he reminded himself constantly.

The dinner that was severed was nice enough. Honestly, the only cooking that you actually enjoyed nowadays was anything that Simon served up for you and it was something he was more than happy to take care of for you. It was mundane and simple and peaceful, just for some time he could force his noisy brain to shut off, it simply wasn’t warfare.

You sat beside him, food pushing around your plate, probably each little biting comment from your mother stripped away any hunger from you. Cynthia had persuaded your siblings to list all their recent achievements to you, which they seemed all too happy to do. Maybe they knew that if all that vitriol that poured from your mother was aimed at you, then they’d continue to escape it… or maybe they enjoyed it because they were just as cruel as she was.

“Are you enjoying the food?” Cynthia quirked a soft brow at Simon, it was a strange observation but Simon noted that your mother wore a face so similar to your own, maybe more than the rest of your siblings but not even one of your expressions matched. There was so much pure and true joy and easiness in your smile, but each time your mother did the same it seemed like it might crack her face into tiny pieces. “I’m sure you aren’t used to a good homecooked meal, hmm?” Then laughing lowly. “Especially with this one’s cooking…” Pointing a fork in your direction.

“It’s fine.” Simon responded evenly, clearly not to exaggerated praise that your mother had been expecting, simply narrowing her eyes and taking back another gulp of wine. “I like to cook for us…” His hand then rests on your knee beneath the table, reminding you that you weren’t alone facing your horrid family, but that Simon had your back. “Between the two of us, I have more time to cook, anyway.” Then he shrugged, gazing in your direction and seeing your desperation to find safety and warmth within him. “With all the hours that she works and then the time she spends on her art, I like to keep her fed…” Too afraid to continue aloud, Simon thought, keep her warm, provided for her, keep her happy, keep her satisfied. Just… keep her.

A deep scoff came from Cynthia then, another big glug of wine until her glass was empty. It seemed that Simon had given Peter the opportunity to speak then, smirking from across the table. “Speaking of work…” Those dangerous eyes loomed as you sat a little straighter in your chair. “Heard from a friend that you missed that interview dad set up…” The comment was thrown out there so casually but you were left reeling as you knew the chaos that simple comment would cause. Besides, how did he even know that? There wasn’t a chance in the world that Peter had friends to be able to tell him that information, so what? Was he following you? Keeping tabs on you? Before you even had the chance to interrogate him Cynthia spoke first.

“No, no…” Placing down the wine bottle onto the table with a heavy thud, eyes fixed on you. “Please tell me that isn’t true.” Raising her brows, as if waiting for you to deny Peter’s allegations but you remained sheepishly quiet. “You lied to me.” There was a fiery rage in her eyes now and you knew that you were in for it. “You told me that you went. I can’t believe you would lie to your own mother…” Your mouth opened then, as if to defend yourself but Cynthia was much too quick to continue her tirade. “We have spoken about this again and again… I made it clear it is time to give up on this silly little fantasy that you’ve been holding onto. It is time to grow up and join the real world. You need to be more like your brother and your sister…” Gesturing wildly to them as Anna sat almost ashamed with her gaze down to her lap and Peter sat there with a smarmy smile the instigator of this.

Again, you opened your mouth, but her hand came up sharp in your direction. “Do you know the strings your father had to pull to organise that interview?” Then gesturing towards Harold who seemed completely unphased, cutting his steak into another bitesize piece whilst his wife continued to berate their daughter before the audience. “You are such an ungrateful brat and you always have been. When will you understand? You have absolutely zero desirable qualities so finding a decent job will be very difficult for you… who in their right mind is going to want to hire someone like you, hmm?”

Everyone apart from Cynthia and Peter appeared mortified, Anna looked to you with horror on her face and then Barney spoke, careful smile on his face. “She still had plenty of time to figure out what she wants to do, right? Anna took a gap year during college… Pete did the same… So, she isn’t going abroad or whatever, instead she’s trying to… to… figure out if she can follow her passion, I think it’s-” “Be quiet.” Cynthia growled at him then, teeth grit. “Don’t talk such nonsense… Peter and Anna were working hard at college and needed a break to find themselves and after returned to college and get their degrees. What does she have? Nothing. I couldn’t even convince her to apply to any colleges… She is a lazy, stubborn, silly little girl and you are chasing a hopeless dream-” “Enough.”

Every set of eyes then turned to look at Simon who sat with a furious look present on his face. At the beginning of the evening, he could maybe accept those biting little comments, he could certainly accept the way that Peter had provoked him, Simon could even accept the way that your mother had sat there bragging about your siblings but he wasn’t going to allow her to utterly humiliate you like this. “You don’t fuckin’ talk to her that way.” Carefully from beside him, you muttered his name, a soft plead to try and calm the fight that seemed inevitable now. “No.” He told you firmly, quietly, gazing down at you with a set jaw and narrowed eyes. “I won’t just sit there and let her fuckin’ talk to you like this… I wont… I can’t…”

It wasn’t like Simon had grown up in a good household. It was clearly different from your own. Simon had witnessed his father completely decimate any good in his family and he was too young and too small and too scared to stop him or do anything. This is why he is the man he is today; he wouldn’t allow that again and seeing your family ripping you to shreds, tearing apart any good and hope and light inside of you was too much for him. Not you. Never you.

“Simon, please. You simply don’t understand...” Cynthia began. “My daughter lives in this word of make believe where she thinks she is going to become and artists and be able to make money and buy big houses like her sister. It’s just ridiculous. I’ve tried getting through to her, but-” “Your daughter is a fuckin’ adult.” Simon growled then, leaning into the table slightly so he could talk across at her. “She doesn’t need you to find her a job and she doesn’t need you to approve the choices that she makes in her life.” Simon growled, feeling this need to protect you and keep you safe, that very same one that had grown for his mother in his childhood. Different, but… the same. “Your daughter… your daughter is fuckin’ amazing. There isn’t a thing about her that needs to change. She’s intelligent and she’s soft and kind and she’s really fuckin’ talented and I wonder how all of that managed to happen when she grew up around you cunts-” The entire table seemed to gasp in unison.

There seemed to be this stunned silence before everyone erupted, Peter almost fell off his chair laughing, whilst baby Hunter wailed from the commotion. Cynthia stood stark upright, jabbing a finger in his direction. “Unacceptable! Disgusting! Unacceptable! He’s an animal! He’s feral!” Stalk through the house on a tirade of insults aimed in his direction with her husband trailing behind her. Anna was trying to hopelessly clean a puddle of wine from where it had teetered over onto the table. “It’s fucking vintage!” There were real tears in her eyes, much to Simon’s surprise.

Just then Barney stood up, bouncing his son in his arms and looking between you and Simon. “I think… I think it would be best if you guys left.” There was sorrow in his eyes as he suggested it, not wanting to be unkind but just not wanting anymore drama. It was probably for the best even if Simon did have a few more choice words for them.

The entire car ride home you were unusually quiet beside him. He was actually a little lost on how to handle this situation. There weren’t a part of him that was sorry for what he’d said to your family, or more specifically your mother. Simon just couldn’t handle the fact that she could talk to you in such a vile way. There was only so much that Simon was willing to take and he’d lost it. Fuck, had he scared you? Were you mad at him? Were you sad for causing a rift in your family? Had he even caused a rift? Clearly, they hadn’t thought very much of you before he’d been there…

A small sniffle from beside him caught his attention, glancing in your direction and under the glow of the streetlamps Simon saw your face wet with tears. Without hesitation Simon signalled and pulled his truck onto an empty road, clambering from the driver’s seat and around to yank open your door. A moment later his arms were around you, hand supporting the back of your head burying your face into the crook of his shoulder. “You’re alright. Shh. You’re alright, babe.”

After a few moments of allowing, you to just sob into his shoulder, your voice muffled against his shirt. “Don’t ca-care what they s-say about me-” “Well, I do.” There was a thick edge to his voice, pulling back to cup your face and looking for any sign of fight towards your family but you seemed defeated, you seemed emotionally drained. Where was that witty girl that had corned him on a night out? Where was the one that had to almost twist his arm to open up? Where was that fight for her own pretty self? “I care about what they say about you because they are dead fuckin’ wrong, babe. No one deserved to be talked to like that. I won’t allow it.”

There was something deeper simmering here behind all this. There was something that Simon didn’t want to confess or discuss. The berating. The belittling. The treatment of less than… This was something that Simon wouldn’t allow for you because he had experienced it and much worse. “You don’t deserve it.” It was like Simon was talking to all the people in his life that hadn’t deserved the fate they were given. You. Him. His mum. His brother. His friends he’d lost. The soldiers that had died in his arms. “Okay?” “Okay.”

Masterlist | Ask | 04-02-2024

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oepionie · 1 year

Text

THE WOES OF A JEALOUS FISH. octatrio

Characters: GN! Reader | Azul Ashengrotto x Reader, Jade Leech x Reader, Floyd Leech x Reader

Tags: Octatrio and jealousy, Pure fluff w/ very petty boys, Reader wears makeup in Azul's part, Jade blows a hairdryer in Floyd's face, Malewife Floyd

WordCount: 1.5k+ | 💌Masterlist

A.A | AZUL ASHENGROTTO :

Azul blinks once, twice as he stares at the merman who was animatedly conversing with you. Rielle, Azul's old schoolmate, a prince of Atlantica, and the owner of this wretched cafe called 'The Secret Grotto'. The same cafe you've been ogling at for the last 20 minutes or so.

"Isn't this place amazing, Azul?! They even have a souvenir shop!" Now, Azul would normally find your eagerness adorable since seeing you happy was oh-so precious and priceless to him. However, this time, your enthusiasm made his heart sink while his mood deteriorated. On the surface, however, he keeps his calm and maintains his professional businessman persona, or at least he tries to.

"Monstro Lounge is far more superior. I mean...th-their cutlery doesn't even match their tablecloths here." Azul blurted out, crossing his arms over his chest and scrutinising the area intently.

"Well, we wanted to add a little bit of uniqueness! My cafe is all about personal touches, we focus more on making things look cozy!" Rielle chimes in, all bright and charming, wrapping an arm around your shoulder. Azul narrowed his eyes, his hands itching to sever the prince's arm for touching you. Oblivious to Azul's ire, you stared at the cafe in awe, pointing out the small touches thrown about here and there.

Azul frowns, sulking and wanting to leave. He wanted to leave the moment he stepped into this place but he didn't have the heart to tear you away from the cozy small cafe. Especially since you were looking forward to this date for weeks, you even got Vil to doll you up and do your makeup today.

Deep down inside he felt a tinge of insecurity because he knew you were right. The cafe really was amazing. The grove was lit up with warm lighting, and everywhere you looked was all soft and homely. Unlike Azul's cafe, this place was much less formal making it seem more down to earth.

Perhaps he should make a few tweaks to Monstro Lounge? Just to fit your tastes?

"Angelfish, I'd hate to break it to you but it's getting rather late. I'm sure Jade and Floyd are already waiting for us back at the dorms." Azul cuts in nonchalantly, a cool smile on his face. You turned to gaze out the window, seeing the sunset and the sky darkening. You nod and swiftly seize Azul's gloved hand in your own, bidding Rielle goodbye.

"Ah, I see it really is getting quite late! Feel free to visit soon!" Rielle bids you goodbye with those words, as you and Azul walk out of the quaint little cafe.

Once outside, Azul reflexively rests his hand on the small of your back, and you lean in, your head resting on his chest. It was silent for a while, both of you just enjoying the comfortable silence before Azul pulled you into an alley.

"Azul? Is something wrong-" He abruptly interrupted you and smashed his lips against yours. Azul backed you up against the wall, his hands finding purchase around your waist as you snake your arms around his neck. Minutes pass before he finally draws back and presses his forehead to yours, a heavy flush on his cheeks. You took this time to admire his dishevelled appearance, which was quite a rare sight. His glasses were crooked, the lipstick Vil picked out for you was smeared across his lips, and his vision was dazed.

"Angelfish...wouldn't you rather spend time with me instead...?"

J.L | JADE LEECH :

He's in absolute denial.

Jealousy. What use would such petty and trivial emotion as jealousy serve? Jade already knew you were bound to him. Despite his distant and cold demeanour, you somehow pushed your way into his heart and fashioned yourself a nice little home.

Furthermore, Jade liked to consider himself as someone who was rational and level-headed. He was always in full command of every situation he was put in. The eel was cruel, merciless, and uncompromising. Him getting jealous? Jade Leech, jealous? It was a laughable thought.

Nonetheless, as he stood behind the lounge's bar, he couldn't help but feel a pang in his heart while he glared holes into the back of Floyd's head. His gloved hands were grasping onto a teacup a little too tightly. He was supposed to serve you tea.

Tea, that he brewed and prepared personally for you, ensuring that each step was meticulous and precise so that the drink was properly suited to your preferences. You, his precious pearl, who was too preoccupied running your fingers through his brother's hair.

The lounge's air conditioning had broken down, and at some point, Floyd apparently decided that it was far too hot and dumped an entire cold smoothie over his head. Now, you were fussing over the eel's damp hair, trying to get the liquid and chunks of fruit out of his locs.

Crack! Jade looked down to see the cup split in half, the warm tea he prepared for you now spilling onto the floor. Azul would've probably had his hind if he found out the eel broke such an expensive and delicate piece of china. Despite that, he had a much pressing issue to focus on. Jade's inexhaustible patience had finally run out, and he concluded that enough was enough.

He quickly poured you a new cup and walked up to the booth you were sitting in. He held a hair dryer in his left hand and the tea he had carefully made for you in his right. Finally, you had stopped fretting over Floyd and instead focused your attention on him. When you spotted him approaching, your face lit up. A smile grazed his lips for a brief moment. How lovely you were.

"Darling, why don't you take a break. Here, it's your favorite. Let me handle this." Jade murmured, running a gloved hand along your cheek. You leaned towards his touch, smiling, and took the cup from him. "Thank you, Jade. I managed to get most of the fruits out but his hair is still so wet."

"Not to worry my pearl, this isn't the first time this happened." With a chuckle, Jade plugged in the hair dryer and grabbed Floyd's chin, forcing his brother to face him.

"Now...allow let me help you, brother dearest." Jade muttered, the corner of his eyes crinkling as a sharp grin spread across his face. He set the dryer to the highest setting and directed it straight at Floyd's face. When the heavy gust of wind hit Floyd, the eel clamped his eyes tight. He whined and attempted to push Jade away, but the latter just refused to let go.

Yes, Jade is most definitely not a jealous man.

F.L | FLOYD LEECH :

That should have been him. The eel glared at Grim who was seated in your lap. Your lap that he loved so much. Your lap that he used as a pillow every time he was slacking off at Monstro Lounge. Your lap that was supposed to be for him, not that skrunkly little cat.

To make matters worse, you were currently feeding Grim some tuna you cooked up yourself. Oh, the nightmare.

The reason? Grim had recently scored a perfect score on his exam without cheating this time! and you wanted to reward your companion for his efforts. Still, Floyd couldn't understand why you had to feed him. Isn't the baby seal big enough to feed himself? He was pretty sure he saw Grim inhale an entire tray full of food in seconds!

Growling, Floyd stomped towards your table and plopped down beside you. He huffed and started side-eyeing the cat who was dozing off and slowly chewing the tuna in his mouth. To Floyd's despair, you were much too preoccupied with fawning and cooing at the tiny brat to notice your moody lover. This was absolutely unacceptable. He demanded your attention.

"Shrimppyyy..." Floyd whined, smushing his cheek against yours, basically asking for attention. Taken aback, you jumped and whipped your head around to face him, finally acknowledging his presence.

"Floyd! How are you? How'd that test with Crewel go?" You smiled at him and moved in to peck both of his cheeks. This made him brighten up for a bit before Grim interrupted the moment.

"Oi, henchhuman, I'm out of tuna here." Grim drawled, patting his paws along your arms. Sighing, you picked up your utensil and turned away from Floyd. However, before you could bring the spoon anywhere near the container with Grim's food, Floyd's hand snatched the utensil away from you.

"Floyd, what are you-" You were cut off when he pushed a bento box towards you.

"Shrimpyy~ You gotta eat! I cooked that myself y'know." He beamed at you, draping his long arms over your shoulders. You opened the lid and gasped at contents of the meal inside. Floyd had made a Butter Salmon Bento, and you'd be damned if you didn't think it looked good. "Floyd, this is incredible...thank you very much!"

"Of course~ Here, I'll handle the baby seal for you." Before you could even say anything, he snatched Grim from your lap and tossed the cat onto the table in front of him.

"I'll even feed him for you!" Floyd laughed and took some tuna, pressing it forcefully on Grim's mouth. Grim, understandably, was reluctant to open his mouth. Floyd, on the other hand, was not about to give up so easily.

The eel hummed and leaned forward, gritting his sharp teeth as a deranged smile grew across his face.

"What's wrong baby seal? Eat it." Floyd hissed, malice oozing from his lips. Grim flinched and decided to just bolt, taking the tuna with him. "Like hell I'm doing that!"

Grim scutters away as you watch with a sheepish smile on your face. Floyd laughed contentedly and sprawled across your lap, staring up at you in adoration, his mission finally accomplished.

"Hehe~ Will you feed me next, shrimppy~?"

Likes and Reblogs are greatly appreciated and really motivating on my end!

#twisted wonderland #twisted wonderland x reader #disney twisted wonderland #twisted wonderland fanfic #twst x reader #jade leech x reader #floyd leech x reader #azul ashengrotto x reader #octavinelle x reader #twst azul ashengrotto #twst jade leech #twst floyd leech #jade leech #floyd leech #azul ashengrotto #twst rielle #prince rielle

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lazyjellyfish300 · 2 months

Text

In Between the Bookshelves📚

AU Librarian!Miguel O'Hara x Fem grad student reader

(image isn't mine, found it on Instagram under the account @/ brokenohara and asked for their permission to post it)

Synopsis: a normal trip to the library results in a little bit more than you were expecting when you meet the new librarian on duty. Word count 4.6k

A/N: reposting this new and hopefully improved version of one of my very first Miguel fics I deleted a while back. I tried to make him more awkward and cute🖤🤓. Still not totally confident in the smut but oh well. Writing smut is so hard sometimes? Or maybe my skills have gone down, idk 😫 Hope you enjoy...

TW: MINORS DNI, SMUT TOWARDS THE END: FINGERING, ORAL SEX F receiving, Gag(he uses his shirt to muffle your moans) Public sexual activity, talk of anxiety, mention of family troubles and anti-deity/religion language

It's 7:00 pm on a rainy Tuesday night in the middle of October. You just got out of your evening Database Systems class. You can't help but feel poetic as you stroll down the grey, soaked, Manhattan streets twirling your umbrella, hot coffee in a cardboard cup in hand. Your shoulders begin to ache from the thin faux leather straps of your backpack. You're wearing your favorite brown sweater over a short sleeved black dress that hits you mid-thigh, with some holey black tights and your favorite knock-off Doc Martens. Damn, I still need to write that 2 page paper that's due tomorrow..

You decide at the last minute to spend your night at the library. You know you won't get anything done if you go back to your apartment. You spin on your heel and pick up the pace as you head hastily towards the NYIT library in Manhattan.

The library is pretty dead except for a group of three people sitting together in the middle table talking in hushed voices, one woman sitting on the floor scrolling with a laptop, and one jock looking fellow sitting at the computers, cracking his knuckles and bouncing his knee anxiously as he scans his assignment he's typing.

You sit down at the empty table right next to the librarian's desk. Since you're a regular here you recognize Polly, the librarian on duty who is a plump woman who looks to be in her 30s with short curly brown hair, wearing a mustard yellow cardigan and brown corduroy pants tonight. She's stapling papers together and gives you a small nod in acknowledgement as you sit down at the table in front of her desk.

She whispers to you, "I'm actually heading out for the evening, but the new person on duty should be here any minute now if you need any assistance."

You nod, and, speak of the devil, here he comes. You suddenly feel your chest get hot when you lay your eyes on the new librarian.

Tall, dark, and handsome would be the simplest way to define this man's appearance, but that would be a very feeble attempt at doing him justice. Sculpted bicep muscles push against the sleeves of his flannel with the cuffs rolled up halfway on his thick forearms. The flannel is unbuttoned and flaps gently away from his body as he walks, a white t-shirt underneath. He has broad, wide, shoulders and a narrow waist. He's also wearing dark wash athletic jeans and a pair of canvas slip ons. His hair has one stubborn strand in front from his small widow's peak that falls endearingly in the middle of his forehead. His most disarming quality is his eyes. A shade of brown that's earthy and natural like the sediment that decorates stream beds. He wears a stoic expression under large framed glasses.

He nods and mutters a "thank you" to the woman librarian as she shimmies into her coat and leaves. His eyes notice you and latch onto you momentarily. You feel your cheeks grow warm and you turn back to your laptop, unable to resume where you left off, wanting to start a conversation with him but not sure how. After a few painful moments of silence, and a quiet rumble outside from the ongoing rainstorm, you decide to break the ice by telling him your name. He blinks as you tell it to him, and you continue trying to make small talk to try and prod more out of him.

"Have I seen you here before? I come here a lot and I don't think I've met you yet."

"Miguel O'Hara," he answers shortly, but politely. "I'm a grad student. I started working for the university in exchange for assistance with my tuition."

You nod, feeling the heat leave your cheeks a little bit as you realize you could have a normal conversation with this man, and not just be an awkward mess around him the entire time. When he mentions he's a student, you realize you have something in common with him and try to go from there.

"These mid-terms are going to be the death of me. I have just one more paper to turn in then I can finally breathe, thank God..."

Miguel blows a short puff of air out of his nose seemingly in agreement, but doesn't say anything else.

He's quiet. Truth is you are too, and you're stepping way more out of your comfort zone than you normally would. Amazing what a pair of charming brown eyes could do to you.

"Honestly, if I had to work anywhere on campus I'd pick the library too. Seems peaceful with minimal people around, and everyone's required to be quiet by default. The ultimate dream workplace."

Miguel can't figure out why this stranger keeps talking to him, but you brought up a point he feels he needs to clarify.

"Oh, you'd be surprised. Most people that come in here are loud and inconsiderate as hell. And there's always that one person who hasn't heard of shocking headphones. Always."

The corner of your mouth raises. "God, that would drive me insane. Being a librarian isn't all it's cracked up to be, huh?"

Miguel shakes his head. "No. More like a glorified adult babysitter who knows where the historical fiction section and restrooms are located, and that's about it. That's literally the only two questions I get asked all day." He turns to look at you more fully, this conversation a slight breath of fresh air, the first chance he's gotten in a while to air out his grievances as the night librarian.

He continues, complaining about the horny couples he's had the misfortune of overhearing get busy on the beanbags in the far corner, and the people who leave random drinks and empty chips bags on the shelves and seem to have forgotten what alphabetical order means when they put books back.

You listen to all of it, nodding your head, and let out a cackle at his expressions he's making with those defined, bushy brows of his. He talks with his hands and it's a little endearing to watch him be so animated. This expressive side you've managed to crack through beneath his solemn exterior.

Miguel feels warmth rise in his body at the sound of your laugh for the first time. It's genuine and hearty, and honestly it's funnier than whatever bad quip he just made and he can't help but feel a little more attracted to you after hearing it. You were a good listener, and he appreciated that a lot about you.

You glance at the windows across the room, nodding in its direction with a remark about the weather, how rainstorms are your favorite. He tells you he loves them as well.

Soon, the others have shifted out of the library and he's now sitting in the chair across from you leaning his chin in his hand, listening to you speak as the rain gently pelts the windows outside.

He finds out you're originally from a smaller town, and you came to New York City for college and to escape your overbearing parents. You're 26 years old and trying to finish this Master's degree after taking one too many semesters off. You tell him about your mom who's a bit of a pushover, and your dad who's kind of an asshole.

He tells you he's 29 and has a younger brother who lives on the other side of the city, and his mom is similar to yours. She's kind but tends to set herself on fire to keep her kids warm. Like you, his dad is also a bit of an ass.

You're both introverted, but you can fake it when you need to, which he appreciates, otherwise he never would have been brave enough to say something to you this evening.

You two share a love of education and coffee. You discuss religion.

"I just don't get it, I'm supposed to love this guy and accept Him into my heart because He died for my sins even though I didn't ask Him to do that? But yet if I break any of His rules I get sent to the Inferno for all of eternity?"

"Sounds like a toxic relationship." Miguel quips as he spins your nearly empty coffee cup across the table absentmindedly.

"Exactly!"

You two talk about love as he shuffled some stray books back to their rightful place.

"C'mon, I know you've had to have dated at least once."

Miguel shakes his head. "Well, I did date a girl in high school. Knew her since the 7th grade. But she pretty much ripped my heart out when I saw her making out with one of my buddies on graduation night. I've had a couple dates here and there since then but that's it."

You click your pen. "Damn, so we both have exes from hell that we dated in high school?"

Miguel nods his head. "It would appear we do. I'm sorry you know the pain and annoyance of adolescent heartbreak too."

You shrug your shoulders. "It happens, y'know? It's like one of those things in life you're just meant to experience. It's like, unavoidable you know? And there's nothing you can do about it. What would you call that? Like not a trope per se, but almost like.... destiny?"

Miguel shrugs in return, "Like a canon event?"

You raise your eyebrows. "Yeah... exactly. How'd you come up with that?"

The ghost of a smirk appears on his face, "Just made sense to me, I guess."

You two sit at the table again and he asks about your childhood and you explain that you suffered from anxiety as long as you can remember and he looks at you with sympathetic eyes.

You do your best to try and ignore what feels like his knee pressing against your calf under the table. The thought of touching him sends heat waves through your body, but you remain frozen in place to send the message you're not opposed to more contact. Miguel feels it too, and deep down his leg is falling asleep with the way it's positioned but he's too nervous to move, either.

You both love the nighttime over mornings, and you show him one of your favorite playlists. He smiles at you tenderly as he holds one of the earphones to his ear.

Soon, it's 10:30 pm and he needs to do his closing duties. Luckily, there weren't any patrons who needed his assistance during his whole shift, proving his point earlier. Before he excuses himself, you two sit in silence for the longest time, both trying to gauge if now's the time to say goodbye to one another, but neither of you wanting to actually be the one who does.

Not sure if it was the absence of any light outside, the late hour, the good conversation you two shared, or a combination of all three, but the ripple of attraction you harbored for him has now washed over you completely and morphed into a formidable wave, threatening to take over your whole body, the darkness of this library and persistence of the ongoing storm outside pushing you closer to him.

He's staring at the corner of your laptop, similar feelings ebbing through him, not sure what's got into him. The art of flirting turned itself into uncharted territory for him a longggg time ago.

He finally decided to look at you but you're already looking at him and he snaps his gaze back down onto the bare table below him, silently cursing in his head as a shade of red fluster rises in his cheeks.

You realize you're going to have to be the one to be brave this time again. "Well, this has been fun...."

Miguel scoffs, starting to bounce his leg under the table. "You say that in the most sarcastic tone known to man."

You return with a scoff of your own, adding a smile, "Well I mean, technically you were working this whole time, isn't that boring?"

Miguel shrugs, the heat in his face returning. "You made it more fun..." The volume in his voice decreasing to a murmur.

You look down as well, your heart fluttering in your chest. You really wanted to kiss him. Or just be closer to him, you don't know why. Of course he was cute as hell but after talking to him for hours, there was no denying a spark had formed. You just didn't know whether one or both of you would make the first move to actually do something about it.

Miguel can't believe that he's actually going to try and attempt to ask you to stay longer with him, but he's going to. Just to hang out some more, maybe keep up that amazing conversation you two were sharing just before this. Completely innocent.

Well, if the way the glow from the desk lamp keeps on making your face look so warm and alluring, he's not sure he'll have the strength to shut down any escapades that ensue later, as long as you're completely up for it, of course.

He inhales "Um...so not sure if you have things to do later or..."

You look at him, pupils widening with anticipation at his pending question.

He goes to say, "I was wondering if you wanted to keep hanging out," but it gets combined with the phrase, "Do you want to stay here a little longer," and the word jumbo that exits his mouth is a little incoherent.

"Was wondering if you were wondering to stay and keep hanging longer out?"

You blink rapidly at his blunder, and he groans, placing his face in his hands.

You immediately feel bad for him, shaking your head and sliding a hesitant hand towards his arm. You stumble over your words too sometimes and it's always fucking humiliating when it happens, so you feel no judgement towards him whatsoever. If anything now he's even more attractive. Every little cute thing about him is just pushing you towards him closer than ever before.

Your fingertips skim across the top of the table and press gently into his forearm. He slowly rolls his head to look at you, his cheek resting in his arms as his eyes look at you from behind his glasses which are slightly askew from the way his face is positioned.

His face is still red, but his heart flutters at your sweet smile. "Sorry, my brain just...takes a dump on me when I try to be smooth sometimes..." Miguel mumbles with a weak chuckle, running his hands through his hair.

You shake your head. "I do the same thing...but to answer your question....yes please..." Your voice becomes quieter at the word "please", an trickle of lust you added on purpose, hoping he's picking up on the vibe you're putting down with the way you're gazing into his eyes, your fingers pressed against his arm, the subtle scoot closer you just made with your chair.

Miguel releases a shaky breath, oh, he's paying attention alright. Damn it all if he doesn't take the leap right now. He decides to ask one more time to be sure, slowing down so he gets it right this time.

"Will....you stay longer, with me?" his voice is low, almost a whisper even though it's only the two of you in his dark library, but it's dripping with seduction. A low rumble from the rain clouds interrupts the pause between his question and your answer.

"Yeah..." you say softly back with double affirmation, a sneaky smile forming on your lips. He flashes a dazzling smile back at you, a woozy feeling in his stomach for what's about to happen in the next few minutes.

He excuses himself and goes back to his desk, typing on his computer, the excitement of having you alone making him just type nonsense for the first few moments, wheeling away some carts to the back and stowing a stray book back where it belongs.

It's now 11 pm. Closing time. Miguel turns off all the lights except for his small desk lamp. The clouds are still rolling and rumbling outside with the wind whistling against the windows. Raindrops are still decorating the street. It's a beautifully dark, sensual scene just for the two of you.

He laces his fingers in between yours and leads you to a dark space in between two large bookshelves. His hand is clammy, and he's a little embarrassed about it on the inside but you squeeze it reassuringly. There was literally nothing he could do at this point to make your crush on him go away. The shelves tower over both of you, even Miguel, who's 6 foot 9.

He leans a hand against the shelf just above and to the right of your head. He accidentally pins a piece of your hair under his hand, making you wince a tiny bit.

"Augh.."

Miguel's eyes dart in alarm to search for what he did that caused you pain and he realizes your hair is trapped under his hand. He pulls it away, shaking his hand and flicking his fingers in an effort to free any of your strands from it. "Goddamit...."

He rolls his head backwards in exasperation at his epic failure of having zero game tonight. You hold onto the flaps of his flannel, making him look at you. "Hey, hey come on...it's okay...."

He finally looks down at you and his lips fall open at your beauty, his heart rate speeding up much more quickly now, and he brings a shaky hand to your face. In his mind, he can't help but realize he's being a huge hypocrite, committing the same sins as his horny patrons of getting busy in the library. But seriously though, at least he had the decency to make sure it was after closing when he was off the clock.

You feel your knees go weak as he brings his other hand to your face, pulling down your bottom lip with his thumb. He wets his lips and he leans in pressing his tongue gently in the space he opened in your bottom lip, begging to be let in. You oblige immediately, diving forward into his soft lips, goosebumps appearing on your arms.

Oh fuck....this kiss felt good. He forgot how nice it felt to share intimacy with someone, those feelings that laid dormant for so long rising and nearly bubbling past the surface. It's all coming back to him as he just wills himself to get lost in the warmth of your mouth, the sheer layer of your Chapstick leaving a tasty feeling on his tongue.

You considered yourself decently experienced, but the way his lips move on their own show you he's a force to be reckoned with and you'd be more than happy to sit back and let him handle things...this handsome, geeky, sweet librarian...

The noises you two make as you desperately kiss each other are little shuffles as you bump into the shelf behind you, with an occasional "oh fuck...," from Miguel. Hearing how turned on he's getting causes you to let your first moan escape your lips.

Once he hears it, he needs more. His hands make their way to your ass and hoist you up onto an empty bookshelf ladder and he sets you down on one of the rungs. You grab his shirt in your fists, not tearing your lips away from his.

"Do you care about these?" Miguel says softly, out of breath, his mind running a million miles a minute before his actions can catch up to him, gently pinching the thin material of your tights between his thumb and pointer finger as his palms grip the soft flesh of your outer thighs. You shake your head no, wanting to fuck already.

Then, his hand is in your crotch, ripping a whole right in the middle, tearing away at the fabric concealing your ripe pussy away from him as though it's the cover of a brand new novel. His cold pointer finger hooks behind your panties and pulls it to the side. You gasp loudly as you feel his finger and the cold air hit your soaked heat.

He chuckles, his breaths still coming out in rapid, succession, the baritone hum of his voice only adding to the wetness between your legs.

"Sorry, my hands are cold..." Then you can't believe what's happening when he drops to his knees, spreading you open like a book. His elbows pin your knees against the sides of the ladder, the wood pressing painfully into your kneecaps, but the sensation he gives you next makes you forget about the whole thing.

His tongue glosses over your wet pussy like a finger stroking the edge of a page. His nose tickles the tiny hairs sprouting from it as he takes a deep breath in, the smell of you going straight to his cock. He teases the lips of your pussy for a moment, an agonizing back and forth along the slit...

....back....and..... forth

"God....you're so wet..."

Back.....

"Miguel..." you whimper..

and forth...

"Fuck...." your fingers shake as you ball them into a fist...

before his tongue dips into your wet hole. Your back arches on instinct, making your body lurch forward, accidentally pushing his tongue further into you which he welcomes eagerly by gripping low on your ass to hold you in place.

You shudder and twitch violently, throwing your head back at the insanely divine attention he's injecting between your thighs. Miguel pauses for a moment, tenderly licking the inside of your thigh before sealing it with a kiss as his eyes flicker up to you.

"You okay?...." he whispers.

You release a shaky breath you didn't know you were holding, a slightly empty feeling as the mind numbing pleasure was abruptly switched off.

"Yeah, yeah...I'm okay."

Miguel reassumes his position, tongue fucking you. The soft pad of his tongue fondling the plush walls inside you. He lets out a low groan and he feels you turn to putty in his grasp, his head gently bobbing as his tongue completes lap after lap eating you, enjoying you, savoring you....every drop from that pretty pussy soon seeping out of his mouth and dribbling down his chin.

Your moans grow louder than they ever have, plucking him from his pussy-drunk state. He stands up in a panic and rips off his flannel, bunching it up as his eyes do a quick scan to make sure you're both still all alone.

"Shhhh.....baby, we need to be quiet.....bite this for me."

His angelic face comes up to look at you, his forehead pressing tenderly against yours and your eyes go half lidded at the sight of your arousal glistening down his chin, shiny on his thick neck from the thin flickers of moonlight that have managed to leak through the darkened windows of the library.

You do as you're told, biting his flannel and he stuffed it hastily in your mouth, making a makeshift gag as your eyes water. His elbows assume their position pinning your thighs back and he's back between them again.

You understand why he made you a gag as he goes directly for your clit this time. You yelp, your sound muffled by the fabric. Your nails dig into his shoulders, two perfect handles while you ride his face. The material of his shirt is thin and you feel every muscle ripple under your palms as he moves to keep fucking you with his mouth.

Your clit throbs to near overstimulation but Miguel doesn't relent. He swirls his tongue with low sighs of appreciation, unable to tear himself away from the wet heaven in front of his face.

His saliva and your slick mix together until it's all the same. The love you're dripping onto him and the love he's licking into you becoming a lewd stream of passion. He groans into your pussy as his bulging cock begs to relieve itself of all the cum built up with tormenting ache.

He decides he wants to watch you cum. He gets up, replacing his tongue with his thumb and his first two fingers, pumping into you with a circular rhythm and easing your clit at a torturous pace.

"On me, baby...." he whispers.

Your eyes struggle to stay open as you look at him, a little unsure of what he said. "Mmmm?...." You ask with a high pitched sigh.

"Keep those pretty eyes on me..." he repeats, his own eyes going half-lidded from the lure of your mouth hanging open. "Fuck...."

He abandons his plan momentarily as he rips his flannel from your mouth to kiss you again. You invade his mouth with your tongue and he mumbles your name again in response. You start to taste yourself and then whimper when you realize the pleasure is beginning to become too much.

"Miguel," you pant. "Baby, it's so much...." your breaths begin to hyperventilate.

Miguel gives a low sigh when you say his name, his cock straining once more when he realized he drew you to say it. He tilts his head at you, his jaw open and curls into a smile when he sees how crazy he's driving you.

"Cum f'me, baby. Wanna watch you while you do..."

You try to look at a spot on the ceiling but Miguel interrupts your concentration when he moves his head to keep himself in your vision. The spiciness of this sexy encounter banishing all fears he had before. No, he won't let you look at anything else when you cum.

He gives a loud grunt and clasps a hand over your mouth, fingers turning white, muffling your cry of sweet release as you squirt all over his flannel, your passion causing a few books to collapse from the shelf.

You shake and start to shiver all over as the sweat you produced during all the action starts to cool. Your hands are tingly and numb. Miguel gives a soft chuckle and presses a soft kiss into your temple with his wet lips and another one on your mouth before he returns his tongue to your thighs, collecting any remaining arousal left behind.

You rest your head back on the ladder rung behind your head, reeling in your come down. He smiles and plants a kiss into your thigh before bidding it farewell, then comes up and hugs you, nestling you in his tantalizing embrace, as he rests his cheek in your hair.

"Thank you..." you murmur, only barely sobering up from your high, his musk and cologne delivering you to a whole new state of intoxication.

He smiles down at you in response and holds your face in both hands, running his thumbs along your cheeks.

"See me tomorrow?"

You practically melt at those big brown eyes of his, glasses still slightly askew and the neck of his wrinkled shirt dampened with his sweat, silently hoping you will.

You beam up at him and nod enthusiastically and he chuckles and plants a line of kisses on your neck as you giggle underneath him. After a few soft hugs and another round of delicate kisses, he walks you to the door. Making you promise you'll call him as soon as you get home as a reluctant compromise at his uneasiness of you walking alone in the dark.

He watches you walk away into the night and doesn't stop until he sees you safely board the bus. He turns around and goes back inside the library, shutting off his desk light with a small click.

#miguel o'hara #miguel atsv #spotify #miguel ohara #miguel x reader #miguel o'hara x reader #atsv miguel #miguel o'hara smut #miguel ohara smut #miguel ohara imagine #miguel o'hara x fem!reader #miguel ohara x fem!reader #miguel ohara x reader #miguel o'hara x y/n #miguel o'hara x you #Spotify

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hotvintagepoll · 8 days

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Propaganda

Audrey Hepburn (My Fair Lady, Sabrina, Roman Holiday)—Growing up, Audrey Hepburn desperately wanting to be a professional ballerina, but she was starved during WWII and couldn't pursue her dream due to the effects of malnourishment. After she was cast in Roman Holiday, she skyrocketed to fame, and appeared in classics like My Fair Lady and Breakfast at Tiffany's. She's gorgeous, and mixes humor and class in all of her performances. After the majority of her acting career came to close, she became a UNICEF ambassador.

Jean Seberg (Breathless, Saint Joan)— Some of us watched À bout de souffle as a lil French undergrad and had the trajectory of our lives changed by Jean Seberg. She IS French new wave!! She is the moment!! She sadly had to work with a lot of shitty directors in her career but even so, she has this magnetic energy whenever she’s on screen. In her personal life, she was also very supportive of civil rights causes, and was even targeted/harassed by the FBI for financially supporting the Black Panther Party.

This is round 4 of the tournament. All other polls in this bracket can be found here. Please reblog with further support of your beloved hot sexy vintage woman.

[additional propaganda submitted under the cut.]

Jean Seberg:

anyone who plays Joan of Arc is kind of hot by default tbh

she's gorgeous, she's cool, she has the original blond pixie cut

She donated a lot of her money to civil rights organizations such as the NAACP and the black panther party as well as Native American school groups, as a result of this the fbi ran a smear campaign against her and a surveillance campaign which is thought to have led to her suicide tragically.

idk if this is propaganda but the COINTELPRO and the FBI are widely blamed for her death. If the FBI was after her for supporting the Black Panther Party you know she was good

Audrey Hepburn:

"She may be a wispy, thin little thing, but when you see that girl, you know you're really in the presence of something. In that league there's only ever been Garbo, and the other Hepburn, and maybe Bergman. It's a rare quality, but boy, do you know when you've found it." - Billy Wilder

Raised money for the resistance in nazi occupied Hungary. Became a humanitarian after retiring. Two very sexy things to do!

where to begin......... i wont her so bad. i literally dont know what to say.

My dude. The big doe eyes, the cheekbones, the voice. The flawless way she carried herself. She was never in a movie where she wasn't drop dead gorgeous. Oh, also the fact she raised funds against the Nazis doing BALLET and she won the Presidential Medal of Freedom for her humanitarian work.

"It’s as if she dropped out of the sky into the ’50s, half wood-nymph, half princess, and then disappeared in her golden coach, wearing her glass slippers and leaving no footprints." - Molly Haskell

"All I want for Christmas is to make another movie with Audrey Hepburn." - Cary Grant

I know people nowadays are probably sick of seeing her with all the beauty and fashion merch around that depicts her and/or Marilyn Monroe but she is considered a classic Hollywood beauty for a reason. Ironically in her day she was more of the alternative beauty when compared to many of her contemporaries. She always came off with such elegance and grace, and she was so charming. Apparently she was a delight to work with considering how many of her co-stars had wonderful things to say about her. Outside of her beauty and acting ability she was immensely kind. She helped raise funds for the Dutch resistance during WWII by putting on underground dance performances as well as volunteering at hospitals and other small things to help the resistance. During her Hollywood career and later years she worked with UNICEF a lot. Just an all around beautiful person both inside and out.

youtube

No one could wear clothes in this era like she could. She was every major designer's favorite star and as such her films are time capsules of high fashion at the time. But beyond that, she had such an elegance in her screen presence that belied a broad range of ability. From a naive princess, to a confused widow, to a loving and mischievous daughter, she could play it all.

Look at that woman's neck. Don't you want to bite it?

#audrey hepburn #jean seberg #hotvintagepoll #fuck that old woman #ladies 4 #Youtube

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dyaz-stories · 12 days

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you know my tongue is a weapon || gojo satoru x reader

synopsis: Shoko suggests a study night, but Gojo's bored and he doesn't want to study. So, instead, he offers to play a game, when all the others have left to get some food: every time he gets an answer right, he gets a kiss.

As you soon find out, Gojo can be very good at studying, as long as he gets something out of it.

word count: 3.8k

genre: college!AU, mostly fluff i think

cw: kissing, making out, semi-public kissing, unresolved sexual tension, reader is insecure and is therefore an unreliable narrator, dry humping ig, fem reader (the word girl is used once)

a/n: first time writing for jujutsu and for gojo! any feedback is appreciated, and i hope you enjoy yourselves :)

soundtrack

prequel

Exam season is never a fun time to be on campus. Stress fills the air, the hallways, the always full libraries, even the coffee shops where people usually meet to relax between two classes. It’s the only conversation subject between sleep-deprived students, looming over their head threateningly at any time of the day and night. It’s stifling, a weight on their chest that never quite wears off.

As for you, well, you’re doing alright.

Oh, for sure, it’s a lot of work, and you’re not thrilled about it by any stretch of the imagination, but academia is your thing, so you don’t find it nearly as crushing as others do. You’re more terrified of the time period that comes afterwards, while you’re waiting for the results like Judgement day.

In the meantime, you’ve given up on trying to find a spot to study in the library, and you’ve been doing most of it in your small student room. You haven’t stepped outside in days when Shoko texts you to suggest a study night. You suspect that she hasn’t started working and intends to cram, but you take her up on the offer nonetheless.

You show up at her place right on time — you always are — with your notes and some snacks. You wait quietly after knocking, trying to make sense of the chatter you hear on the other side of the door. She had mentioned she would ask a few other people if they wanted to join, which you had assumed would be fine, but faced with the reality of it now you can feel a lump growing in your throat. Academia might be easy for you, but people… aren’t.

When the door opens to reveal Gojo Satoru, piercing blue eyes meeting yours through white locks of hair that he pushes out of his face a second later, you fully consider turning around and leaving.

“You made it,” he says, shooting you a wide grin.

“Hi,” you squeak in reply.

Gojo is a… friend. Ish. Kinda. You think. Well, he’s a friend of Shoko’s, anyway, so the two of you have hung out, socially, before. Up until last summer, you assumed he didn’t even know your name.

“Thank God you’re here,” Shoko says, appearing from behind him to grab your hand. “No one here wants to work. We need to whip these imbeciles into shape or something.”

“I’m working,” Nanami sighs from the table in the living room, where he’s sitting alone.

“I was just waiting for everyone to be here, Shoko,” Geto says, his voice soft and even, as he approaches the table.

You set your bag down, giving Nanami an sympathetic smile, and he pushes his glasses higher on his nose. When he nods at you, you’re pretty sure it’s a silent way of saying ‘thank you for not leaving me alone with them’.

“What are you guys starting with?” you ask, pulling some books out of your bag.

Everyone here has different majors, but with some classes in common. You’re not sure how efficient this enterprise is going to be, if you’re completely honest, but as Gojo lets himself fall on a chair with a dramatic sigh, you suppose it can’t be worse than if he was left to his own devices.

“I’m doing literature, algebra and physics tonight!” Haibara announces, perhaps a tad too enthusiastic. You don’t want to crush his hopes and dreams, but—

“You’re never going to get through all that in one night,” Nanami says with a frown.

“Don’t listen to him”, Gojo intervenes, “you can do anything you set your mind to.”

There are stars in Haibara’s eyes when he looks at him, but you notice the glances Gojo is stealing at Nanami, and the way his smile widens when Nanami grits his teeth in annoyance. You bite your lip so you don’t let out a chuckle.

“Do you want to start with literature with me?” you offer. “Nanami, you’ll have to handle algebra because I’m not taking any algebra classes this semester.”

The corner of Nanami’s lips curves to form a smile.

“It’s good that someone here is taking this seriously.”

“Ugh,” Gojo mutters. “Fine. Hey, Suguru, do you know what tests I have next week?”

Nanami buries his head in his hands with a pained groan, and you laugh again, lump gone from your throat now, as you move your chair to come sit next to Haibara. Gojo’s eyes follow your movement silently. When you lean over the same textbook as Haibara, shoulders brushing against his as you push a lock of hair behind your ear, his expression turns thoughtful. It’s only when Geto drops a book in front of him that he snaps out of it.

“Are you sure you don’t want to do shots instead?” he asks, tone sour.

“Man, don’t tempt me,” Shoko whines as she sits down as well. “The shots will have to wait.”

Truly, Gojo thinks, sadder words have never been spoken.

Nanami calls it quits right before 10 pm. He’s tried to leave a few times by then, usually because of one of Gojo’s quips, but Shoko’s managed to keep him around until then. It doesn’t help how delighted Gojo gets by his reactions, and you can’t blame him for abandoning you. You don’t doubt for a second that he would have been much more productive without everyone else around.

“If they pass their exams, we should give ourselves all the credit for that,” he comments at your intention, right before walking out the door. “Good luck with them.”

Then he’s gone, before Gojo can start to protest about why he is not getting any encouragements, even though he’s suffering so much, and everyone is mean, and nothing about this is fun, and—

Haibara, despite his best intentions, falls asleep on the couch less than thirty minutes later. It was just supposed to be quick nap, but by midnight he’s still down, and you can’t bring yourself to wake him up. Plus it’s not like you were making a lot of progress with him anyway, so he just might be better off sleeping.

It’s not long after that that Shoko starts to get real antsy. So far, she has kept on track despite Gojo’s attempts at distracting her, but you can tell she is starting to get incredibly bored. Somehow, that doesn’t seem to be Gojo’s case, even if the way his leg bounces underneath his chair tells you he’s itching to do anything other than sit here doing nothing.

“Fuck it,” Shoko says, finally giving up. “I’m going to get something to eat.”

Geto frowns.

“Now? Alone?”

“As if anything would happen to her,” Gojo says, spinning a pen between his fingers. “She’ll be the scariest person out there.”

Geto rolls his eyes.

“I’ll come with you,” he tells Shoko, and she shrugs. “Do you want to come too, Satoru?”

Gojo lets himself fall down on his chair, looking at Geto with his head hanging behind the back of the chair.

“Nah,” he says after a few seconds of intense deliberation. “Can’t abandon the teacher here.”

You feel your face heating up.

“Oh, I mean, I’m sure I’ll be fine. If you want to go, you should—”

“It’s fine,” he handwaves your protests away. “I’ll finally get some work done without Shoko here to constantly distract me with—”

He bursts out laughing when Shoko throws her pen at him.

“We’ll be right back,” she announces, standing up. “You,” she points at Gojo, “play nice. And you,” she gives you a severe look, “don’t hesitate to hit him. I’m not joking.”

She leaves the room, escorted by Geto. Haibara doesn’t even stir when the door slams.

“Alright,” Gojo says, not wasting a second to reach for your chair so he can pull you closer to him, “it’s my turn to get my own personal tutor.” His fingers brush against your leg as he pulls you in, and you know, from how his eyes seem to drink in everything about you, that he doesn’t miss your quiet gasp nor the way your breath quickens. You’ve noticed this before, too. If he likes annoying Nanami, he seems to delight in your reactions at least as much — though he tries to make you laugh or to fluster you rather than piss you off.

“Um,” you say, with the eloquence that characterizes you around him, “what do you need help with?”

He tilts his head to the side as he studies you. You find him breathtaking, you always do, but you think you’ve gotten better at hiding it, so even if it feels like he’s looking right into your soul, you give him an easy smile.

Somehow, he is the one who ends up averting his eyes.

“How about philosophy?”

Right, the two of you share that one class on the history of ideas.

“Sure,” you say, already grabbing a book and thumbing through it. “I’ve taken quite a few notes for that class, actually, I can give them to you if you—”

“That’s boring,” he interrupts you. “We should do something else.”

You put down your book, intrigued, and something twists in your stomach when you see the look he’s giving you. He’s like a cat with a mouse, with exactly the same hunger in his eyes.

“What—” you clear your throat when your voice cracks. “What are you suggesting?”

“Well,” he leans forward, resting his elbow on the table and putting his chin in his palm, “I need an incentive to work, you know?”

You swallow. Sure.

“So how ‘bout I get a kiss for every right answer I give you?”

And you almost choke on air.

“What?” you manage to croak. Blood is rushing to your face, and it feels like your brain is short-circuiting. Your heart’s beating faster, hammering in your chest, and you feel your palms grow sweaty.

“C’mon,” he teases, reaching out to pull on a lock of your hair and twirl it around his finger, and you know, you know, he knows he’s got you right where he wants to, “help me study.”

“Gojo—”

“Satoru,” he all but purrs.

“Satoru,” you say, “what are you doing?”

“What do you mean?” he blinks innocently. “Just trying to find a fun way to study.”

You examine him carefully, try to figure out what, exactly, is going on behind these beautiful eyes of his. You’ve had— moments, with him. He fell asleep on your shoulder in the car once. He held your hand through a busy festival, teasing you about not wanting you to get lost, and later helped you get on his shoulders so you’d get a better view of the stage. The one time you agreed to accompany Shoko to the club, you remember his hands on your hips, his breath against your ear, the ghost of his lips to your neck. But nothing actually happened between the two of you. You’d told yourself that it was all a distraction for him, that he didn’t want more.

This isn’t exactly confirmation. You don’t doubt that it’s all in good fun still, and knowing you, and how hard you tend to fall, you should walk away while you have the chance.

But you really, really want to kiss him. Want to know what it would feel like to taste his lips, to have his body pressed against yours, to feel his hands all over you.

You always take the smart decision. This is not the smart decision. But…

“What if you get it wrong?” you ask.

Satoru blinks.

“You can, uh, spray me with a water bottle?”

You let out a brief laugh.

“Isn’t that a dog thing? That feels unethical, Satoru.”

He preens at your use of his name.

“You should take your chance,” he drawls. “Shoko says it’s really cathartic.”

You’re not sure you need catharsis, but you feel a little lighter now. It’s all a joke to him, clearly, and from what you’ve seen in the past couple of hours, he hasn’t seriously studied once. He’s not going to get the answers right. You don’t think he’s even trying to.

“Fine,” you say with a playful roll of your eyes, reaching out for a water bottle and positioning your chair so you’re facing him. “Who came up with the notion of civil disobed—"

“Thoreau, 1848, but the essay was republished with that name in 1866.”

You stare. Gojo gives you a lazy smile.

“Now where’s my kiss?”

“Um,” you say. You feel incredibly awkward now. He’s leaning back against his chair, with eyes that have not left you once since he’s suggested that idea. You— have to move, now, don’t you?

Very slowly, very hesitantly, you push yourself to your feet. Satoru doesn’t move at all, and you don’t know if it relieves you or stresses you out even more. The position is quite uncomfortable, too, with you standing and him sitting down. You don’t know that you’ve ever towered over him like that. Gingerly, you put a hand on his shoulder, and then you’re leaning over him, and then you’re kissing him, and then you’re moving away as fast as you can. This was just a peck, really, a press of your lips to his that lasted a second, tops, and that you’re already trying to forget about.

You’re not a teenager anymore, and you know this shouldn’t be getting to you that much, but it’s— it’s Satoru Gojo. You’ve worked very, very hard not to think of him like that, because you didn’t want to let yourself get hurt. And now, you’ve let yourself be dragged into this so easily? Ugh. You wish you could slap yourself.

“Okay,” you say, voice more high-pitched than you’d like, but still understandable, which you’re grateful for. “Next, um, can you explain what philosopher kings are?”

Surely—

“Of course,” Satoru pretty much sing-songs. “Plato thought that cities should be ruled by trained philosophers, because only a philosopher would know and act for the good of a city.” There’s a brief pause, before he adds, “Aristotle thought that was bullshit, though. For the record.”

And then he waits. You narrow your eyes at him.

“When did you study for that?”

“I never study,” he answers lightly.

Instead of standing up this time, you scoot your chair closer to him, and you lean forward. Satoru chuckles, but humors you — even if the temptation of leaning further back to make you come to him, because you’re just adorable when you’re flustered, is great. This time, when you kiss him, though, he presses forward before you can move away, his nose brushing against your cheek as he chases after you. And oh, what a sight you are after that, wide eyed, lips parted, hands tightening on your notes.

“Next?” he asks.

“Right,” you say. You’re— not sure what’s happening here, to be quite honest. Should you stop this? You— don’t think you want to, but you’re also not sure what this charade is all about. “Um. Spinoza thought that free will—”

“—could only be reached through knowledge, and that most people never obtained it.”

Okay.

“Aren’t you supposed to be a physics major?”

He raises an eyebrow, looking genuinely amused.

“Determinism’s a pretty big deal in science, actually, but let’s not change the subject here.”

You bite your lower lip, and his eyes track the movement like he’s starving for you.

You’re feeling hot all over, anticipation burning inside of you, and this time, you can’t pretend that he hasn’t done this on purpose. That he wanted to kiss you. You can’t quite reconcile the way you see yourself with that thought — how could Gojo Satoru want you, of all people? — but you find that it doesn’t matter.

You lean towards him once more, and this time, you let yourself kiss him. Really kiss him. You press your lips to his, soft at first, but when you don’t move away immediately, you feel him pressing against you, one hand coming to cup your cheek. His teeth pull at your bottom lip, and you let out a involuntary gasp. He doesn’t waste the opportunity to slide his tongue inside your mouth, and you keep inching closer to him, hands coming to his shoulders for support. You can feel yourself melt into him, and you curse your common sense when it leads you to break away from the kiss.

It doesn’t deter Satoru, though, because as you do, his hand slides under your knee, and next thing you know, he’s pulled you into his lap. His face is deliciously flushed, pink hue under the pale skin. He looks up at you, long fingers tightening around your thighs.

“We should waste less time like that,” he says.

Shoko likes to say he’s insufferable, and you can see why. Everything all seems to come so easy to him, and you’re defenseless against the way your heart races. When his eyes are on you, it feels like you’re the only person in the world. You’re not usually the type to indulge in that idea, but, ah, what’s the harm, as long as you know how to come back to earth later on?

You shake your head as you take him in.

“How are you even doing that?” you ask, mildly peeved.

“Haven’t you heard?” he grins widely. “I’m a genius.”

You roll your eyes at him. You’ve heard about that, of course, about how he maintains stellar grades without breaking a sweat. You just hadn’t seen that in application until now. In class, he’s usually asleep, or taking great joy in bothering the teacher. You’ve never seen him try to get something.

“Well, where’s my question?”

You sigh, putting your arms around his neck. You left your notes on the table, meaning that you might be less prepared than he is, actually.

“Descartes famously said—”

“Cogito ergo sum. C’mon, rational doubt is at the heart of science. I’m starting to think you’re just trying to kiss me.”

You do want to kiss him, but you have the self-control to shrug.

“Well, if you don’t want to—”

His mouth is on yours before you can think of how to end that sentence. He kisses you hungrily, hands gripping your hips as he tries to pulls you closer to him. Your chest presses into his, and you tighten your hold around him, fingers running through his hair. He grunts when you pull on it slightly, tilts his head back a little more to give you better access to his mouth, and when his tongue brushes against yours once more, you can’t help but to rock your hips against his. The friction makes you gasp into his mouth, and one of your hands falls down to his shoulder, fisting his shirt as you try to find better support.

“Fuck,“ you hear him mumble underneath you, right as you feel him grow hard. He pushes up against you. His fingers dig into your skin, one hand slipping under your shirt to run over your skin, leaving a trail of fire behind. It moves higher, brushing against your bra.

Against your better judgement, your hands travel down his body, tracing over his muscles. You feel him twitch under you, and when you roll your hips once more, with much more intent than the first time, he groans.

“Satoru,” you whisper, though even you don’t know if it’s a plea for him to stop or to keep going.

His eyes widen, and you feel him lift you up easily, pushing you onto the table. You lean back slightly, resting your weight on one hand. He’s red all over now, from his ears to his neck. His pupils are wide, his lips swollen, his hair messy. He looks like sin.

You don’t want to think about what you look like.

“C’mon,” he says. “Last question.”

“Haibara’s in the living room,” you point out. Even you know where this is leading.

“He’s dead asleep,” he merely shrugs. He’s mesmerizing, but you note that the glimmer of amusement that always dances in his eyes. This feels— serious.

“Um,” you say, licking your lips and watching how he bites his as his grip on your waist tightens once more — like he’s holding himself back. “Confucius—”

And then, the front door opens.

Gojo clicks his tongue and reluctantly steps back as you jump down from the table, beelining for the bathroom — you know that kiss is written all over your face.

You glare at yourself in the mirror. Your body’s still tingling, and you’re aching with want, now that release has been denied to you, but you know better. You’re supposed to know better. You take a few seconds to comb through your hair with your hands, and when it no longer looks like someone’s, well, kissed you senseless, you cautiously step back outside.

“We got you some fuel,” Shoko announces loudly, before getting shushes by Geto. He points in Haibara’s direction, who’s started snoring slightly.

“Thank you so much,” you say sweetly. “I’ll— Why are you wet?”

Gojo deadpans as he looks at you but, well, there’s water dripping from his hair, down his chin, and onto the shirt your hands were fisted in just a few minutes earlier, so, you think the question is valid.

“He was splashing water on his face when we got here,” Geto supplies helpfully. “Gojo runs hot.”

“And now it’s all over my floor,” Shoko mutters. “Next time, just wait ‘til the bathroom’s free, huh?”

Gojo looks like he has something to say just on the tip of his tongue, but he glances at you and seems to swallow it back.

“If anything, I made it cleaner,” he proclaims, leaning back on his chair. “Shoko, how long has it been since you cleaned in here? We really need to find you a partner who’s willing to do that stuff, otherwise you’ll keep living in fil—”

Shoko’s pencil case lands right in the middle of his face.

“You absolute brat,” she spits out, “I can’t believe you’d have the nerve to tell me something like that when you rely exclusively on Geto to—”

The bickering continues, but you tune it out. Under the table, Satoru’s knee brushes against yours. It’s almost hesitant at first, before he leans his leg against yours, when he realizes you’re not moving away. This isn’t the smart choice, either, but, ah, you’re always, always the smart girl. Is it so bad to have a night of fun? Is it so bad that you want to know what it would feel like to have him, even if it’s just once?

He’ll break your heart, the voice of reason says in the back of your mind, but then Satoru looks back at you, checking to see if you’re laughing at how he’s making fun of Shoko and, well.

You think you’ll let him.

Any and all feedback in the form of asks, reblogs, comments, tags is highly encouraged and appreciated~ If you enjoy my work, interactions are what keep me writing and motivated!

I haven't written anything in months and I think it shows but, well, I have to restart somewhere lol, so I hope it was still fun for you and you enjoyed yourselves here for a little while. Thank you for reading <3

prequel

#gojo x reader #gojo satoru x reader #gojo satoru #gojo x you #gojo x y/n #jjk x reader #jujutsu kaisen x reader #gojo fluff #jjk fluff #jjk x you #my writing #gojo imagine #jjk x y/n

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slvttyplum · 3 months

Note

write me a gojo smut based off the song thinking with my dick🙏🙏 that shit my jam

★ thinking with my dick | satoru gojo

“write me.” is crazy.

the night was long, and you were on the couch, bundled up in your favorite blanket and a glass of wine, watching your favorite show.

satoru was out with his friends and said he wouldn’t be back until later, so don’t wait up for him, and that’s exactly what you did.

the crisp, warm air and the slick white wine were all you needed to wind down.

after a couple of minutes of you doing that, there’s a couple of beeps at the door before it opens and satoru stumbles in.

your body adjusting as you fix yourself and throw your legs off the couch so he can sit down.

his white button-up shirt is only now buttoned halfway, and his hair is ruffled like he’s just been in a fight.

trying to muffle your laughs from his appearance, you slide closer to him and run your fingers through his hair.

“what’s going on? did you have fun?” your voice is soft and low, but your mouth is still close to him so he can hear.

his eyes are low, and he looks at you with a smile, taking his arm and pushing you closer to him, placing a kiss on your soft lips.

“i had... so much fun; i was just thinking about you the whole time.” his voice was low, and his words were slurring a little. the air getting stuffier from how close the two of you were.

“is that right? i was thinking about you too, baby.” your lips approaching his ear, placing a soft kiss on them, a more fluent and vibrant hue of red appearing on them.

his other hand slides up the side of your body, and his head taps the back of the chair as he closes his eyes.

all his blood was rushing to his length in his pants, the fabric tightening as he shifted in his seat.

every thought that was passing through his mind was of you, and that turned him on even more.

you give him a couple more pecks in the ear before sliding down to his jaw and placing one kiss, then down to his neck.

it looks too bare. you lick over a spot a couple of times before pursing your lips together and sucking his flesh in between your teeth.

your soft, wet, and warm tongue was sending him over the moon; it felt so good. he wanted to touch himself, but he wanted to take you in more.

his hand traveling down to your ass and groping your cheek. you were wearing a silk nightgown, but it was a little too silky.

satoru’s hand sliding under your dress startles you, but all you do is giggle and slide your tongue to the next spot on his neck.

“did you purposefully not wear panties?" his voice is croaky as he bends his neck up and looks down at you.

disconnecting your mouth from his neck, all you do is smirk, your hand coming up to his cheek and pushing your soft lips into his.

whispering a quiet “i never wear panties.” before pushing your lips into his again and slowly throwing your leg to the other side, now straddling him.

satoru adjusts himself, pushing himself into you and placing his hands on both sides of your hips.

your hands slide over his chest, then down to his stomach, playfully poking him, then down to the top of his button.

“want me to unbutton them?” your voice low in a teasing matter as you look at him with your signature bedroom eyes.

A small whimper slips out of his mouth, and all he does is nod. he couldn’t even think straight when your wet core was leaking into his pants.

not being able to wait any longer, you unbutton them, unzip them, and then adjust yourself so that when you pull out his length, it’s adjusted.

you lift up, and your chest is in his face. satoru licks your chest, then begins to suck on you, the sensation making you feel tingly.

your hand grips his length and swipes over his wet tip, dripping with pre-cum, your hips buckling up as you slowly slide down on his length.

“fuck…” satoru’s words drag off, his head is thrown back, and his neck is exposed again, slowly dragging your finger over the marks you made.

your head moving in closer and sliding your warm tongue over a new spot, and your hips slowly teasing his shaft by slowly sliding down.

“mm fuck, you feel so good.” your voice is soft as you fully sit down on his length; you can feel his length twitch inside you.

his hands trailing over your sides, slipping under your silk night gown, and gripping your ass, your flesh falling in between his fingers.

a perfect fit in his hand, and so is his dick inside of you; the way he’s subtly thrusting his hips into you is turning you on.

“more.” his dick aching for you to do something more; the slight clenching your walls were doing wasn’t enough for him.

disconnecting your lips from his neck, you slowly creep up to his face, then slam down on him, his dick feeling like it’s in your stomach.

“did you just grow more? mm what a naughty boy.” rising back up, then slamming down on him again, a moan falling out of his mouth.

his hands sliding to your hips for stability even though he was sitting down, he just needed to clench on to you.

your lips are now on his, taking in all of him—how he tasted, how he smelled, what noises he made, everything.

his hips thrusting into you made you weak, both your hands on the side of his face as you indulged in him, kissing him like he was going to disappear.

satoru needed more, so he gripped your hips even more, making you yelp and pushing you down, then lifted you back up as he thirsted upwards.

the intense pleasure sent both of you into a frenzy, and the room filled with moans as your lips dragged off of his as you tried to stay steady.

there was no talking, just the sounds of skin hitting each other and moaning. his moans slipped into your mouth, and yours slipped into his.

“wait… fuck, i’m about to cum.” his voice turned into a streaky whimper, and your head collapsed into the crook of his neck.

you can feel his dick pulsing against your walls, stretching them out, then slipping himself in and out.

with no second thought, satoru slams you on his length one final time, and he releases fireworks, going off in his head.

the trickle of his cum slowly making its way out of you was such a great sensation, almost making you crave more.

your lips coming back up to his laying one final kiss on his, and his eyes flutter close as he grips on your hips, unclench.

“you’re… perfect," his words drift off as he falls asleep.

491 notes · View notes

luveline · 10 months

Note

Hey! Can you do something for rockstar!james x photographer!reader??

for you!!

You're standing behind a barricade and it's so fucking cold you could cry, but you have a job to do and no time to go back and get your jacket. Your arms are tired with the fatigue that comes with carrying your camera and its expensive lens around all day.

At least you'll be paid well. And you get to see celebrities for the evening, picture perfect, handsome and gorgeous and famous enough that your breath catches when they stop for photos no matter how many times you've photographed some of them before.

"Sirius!" The photographer next to you calls. "This way! Smile for us!"

You follow the shouting and wait for the face connected to the name to smile. Sirius Black, front man of potentially the most famous indie band in Britain currently, poses without really posing. He's effortless.

James Potter walks beside him. He seems more genuine, which isn't to say Sirius Black is fake, but James smiles at the photographers like he knows them. His gaze locks in on you for a second and you can't help the schoolgirl chills that race down your spine. He's breathtakingly handsome, brown skin glowing under the bright lights above, his hair glossy and curled as if each individual ringlet has been held and twisted in the hand of an angel. He's ridiculous in how pretty he is, truly.

Without thinking, you say something unlike yourself. Photographers are allowed to compliment the people they're shooting, but it feels clumsy on your tongue. "Hey, James," you call, not too loudly, almost hoping it'll get lost in the crowd, "smile for Getty, handsome."

James doesn't hesitate to turn to you and smile. You take a photo, not your best, and drop your camera away from your eye. You give him your most genuine smile, hoping he thinks you're pretty (stupidly) while knowing you look ragged.

"Thank you," you say.

"You're welcome," James says, making a small hand gesture to Sirius. He approaches you, to the annoyance of the other photographers. "Hey, we've met before, haven't we?"

"Yeah, we have, I take photos at all the events like this one. Where's Mr. Lupin?"

"Mr. Lupin?" he asks, smiling. "Mr. Lupin's ill. He'll be alright."

"It feels strange to call you by your first name, not knowing you."

"You just called me James. And handsome, if I heard correctly."

Your heart amps suddenly into racing speeds, as though only now realising that you're having a conversation with James Potter, and that he's grinning at you like you're friends, or better. "Sorry," you say.

"So you take it back?" he asks, smile wavering.

"Of course not, you're more than handsome, I– but I– I'm not trying to cat-call you."

James' pretty smile moves back into place. He pushes his glasses back up the length of his strong nose with his marriage finger, and the blazer he wears bulges against his arm muscles from the movement. Your hands start to shake —you're a photographer, meant to take photos, not interview the talent. You have no idea what to say to him, worse, you've no idea why he's talking to you.

"Are you cold?" he asks worriedly.

"Wha– no, not really," you say.

"Are you sure? You can have my jacket, shortcake, it's no trouble."

"It is trouble? You're about to be on TV," you say.

James shoves his hands into his pockets. "I can sacrifice my TV appearances for the sake of a very cold looking, very pretty girl. It's selfish, really," he reassures you, "I like being complimented. I want you at the next event to do that again, not in hospital recovering from hypothermia."

"James, can you stop flirting for five minutes?" Sirius asks.

James nods at you apologetically and you take it for a farewell, catching up with his bandmate to ascend the stairs into the venue. The night moves forward slowly, taking photos of more celebrities, none as handsome and flirty. You're stopped short by a man in a tuxedo who looks like the servers from inside the show.

"Hi, this is for you," he says.

You frown. "Are you sure?"

"I was told to give it to the cold-looking photographer with a blue lanyard. You look cold."

It's a hoodie. It's Marauders merchandise, a black hoodie in your size with a monogrammed drum set over the breast. You slip into it and worry it's a consolation present; maybe he'd thought you were a fan.

It's not until you slip your icy fingers into the pockets and pull out a slip of paper you realise otherwise.

Gorgeous, shivering photographer,

Please ring me. I'm not above begging. I'd really like to see that photo. Love, James.

P.S. I'm not kidding, (unless you don't really think I'm handsome and were extending some professional chivalry as Sirius thinks, then please ignore this) call me! :3 <3

Your hands shake for the rest of the evening, despite the warmth of your new hoodie.

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papercorgiworld · 4 months

Text

Boyfriend material: Enzo Berkshire

A sweet but sneaky Enzo tries to win you over with his boyfriend skills. He works hard to make sure you’ll never want another man, so things get smutty.

This is a requested part two of ‘Boyfriend material’ about Enzo. Read part one here.

Warning: piv, no protection, oral fem receiving

Feedback is always very welcome.

Lorenzo was convinced that you were a 100% wifey material, now all he had to do was get you to think the same of him. The music was blasting and Enzo was showing off his best moves while his eyes searched for you. So far four girls had already thrown themselves at him and you were still nowhere in sight, making him down another glass of liquor. Maybe you were already with someone else, maybe you had left the party with someone, maybe you… Enzo shook his head trying not to think about you alone with some other guy. He urgently poured himself another drink and jumped on a nearby table, drawing the crowd’s attention with some fine moves.

A childlike joy filled him when he finally found you among the dancing people and you were staring right back at him, like no one else was there. A wide smile appeared on your lips and Enzo winked at you, while he mouthed the lyrics of a rather suggestive song. You couldn’t help but get flustered and laugh. This was his moment. The moment that you would tell your grandchildren about. About how you found each other in the crowd, laughed and fell in love. However, that didn’t happen because out of nowhere a drunk girl pulled Lorenzo towards her and started grinding against him. People started cheering and when Enzo looked over at you, you had already turned away from him. Realizing how bad it must’ve looked he immediately jumps off of the table and moves in your direction, getting annoyed by everyone who’s in his way.

When he finally finds you, he stops in his tracks at the sight of you in Draco’s arms. Your arm is slung around Draco’s neck and you’re laughing at something, while he moves a little closer with every dance move. When Draco leans in to whisper something or worse try to kiss you, Enzo panics. He steals a glass of booze out of someone’s hand and purposely runs into you, spilling the drink all over your dress. “Oh, Merlin.” Enzo says, faking innocence. “What the fuck, Enz!” You exclaim rather annoyed. “I’m so, so sorry (y/n).” As your eyes lock with Lorenzo’s soft ones you instantly forgive him. “Oh well, not that bad.” You reassure Enzo as you try to hide the sadness about your soaked dress. “Hey, I know a spell for that.” Hermoine comes to the rescue, but Lorenzo interrupts her. “No, no! No magic when you’re drunk, Hermoine. You might set the girl on fire if the spell goes wrong.” Hermoine frowns but before she can protest Pansy pulls her away, winking at Enzo.

“Follow me.” Enzo offers as he holds your hand. He leads you through the partying people, but you just watch his hand perfectly wrapped around yours. We fit like a puzzle piece. You have totally forgotten about Draco’s attempt to win you over and Enzo doesn’t feel bad about stealing you either. He might be sweeter than the average slytherin he still knows that I’ve you want something you’ve got to be quick and cunning. “Enzo, where are you taking me?” You’re met with an excited grin. “My room of course, I’ll get you something of mine to wear.” You let out a laugh, not taking him very seriously. “What?” He questions playfully. “You’re wearing an oversized shirt, aren’t you? I happen to have plenty of those things lying around.”

Once you were inside his dorm he couldn’t help but secretly stare at you and bite his lip, while you scan the room. Things weren’t going according to plan, but he still got you here. “You know I’m not that small, I need a big enough shirt.” He frowns as he searches in his closet. “This one’s even too big for me, it will do.” You nod and reach for the first button, to then look up at Lorenzo and his cheeky smirk. “Shouldn’t you turn around, while I change.” He acts baffled and you let out a laugh. “And miss the show? No, I’m definitely not turning around.” He closes the space between you two and you can’t help but heat up. You slowly work on the first three buttons, giving Enzo a glimpse of your lingerie. “I’m pretty sure I also spilled some on your bra, you should probably take it off as well.” You laugh and give him a playful slap. “Enzo!”

“Sorry, but you can’t blame a guy for trying. I mean you’re the prettiest girl I’ve ever seen.” You bite your lip and tug on his shirt, pulling him into you. “Can't blame a girl either.” You lean closer and he gets the hint. It’s a soft and slow kiss, despite the immense desire there was calmness between you two. However, this didn’t keep Lorenzo from giving his hands carte blanche and trailing your figure like you were already his. When you break the kiss he places a few soft and playful pecks on your lips. His hands fall to your ass and squeeze it before lifting you up and walking you to his bed. When he sits down with you on top of him, his hands dig into the flesh of your thighs. He pulls you against his body not allowing even a little space between you two. You swing your arms around him and drag a hand through his soft locks, before kissing him slightly rougher than before.

Lorenzo takes his time exploring your body, from slowly caressing your thighs to tenderly massaging your hips and finally moving under your dress. “How are you still wearing this?” Enzo complains and you don’t waste a second pulling your dress over your head with Enzo’s help. He reaches up to cup your cheek kissing you tenderly, while his naughty hand unclips your bra with one swift move. Your mouth opens mid kiss out of surprise and he grins into the kiss before taking his chance at dominating the kiss. He slips off your bra and starts kneading your breasts, his thumb circling your nipple and making you moan in pleasure all the while his lips are still on yours. “What are you doing to me, Berkshire?” You ask through moans and softly move your hips against his pants hoping to calm your throbbing cunt. “Darling, I’m just getting started. When I’m done with you’ll never want another man.” This promise alone turns your pussy into even more of a soaking mess.

Your continued movement against his crotch tells him your pussy is in need of him. He picks you up, places you on the bed and gives you one more kiss before quickly pulling down your shorts and panties. He stares at your wet pussy and you get a little flustered at your own neediness. He looks up at you, surprised to see you all shy and blushing. “You are so pretty.” He reassures before forcefully pushing your legs as wide as he wishes and leaning in, placing kisses along your thighs. He keeps a firm grip on your legs as his tongue darts into you, playing with your clit and having you tremble in pleasure. You repeat his name as you dig your fingers into the sheets for support. Soft sounds of ecstasy turn into cries for more, increasing Lorenzo’s hunger for you. You want to explain how close you are and tell him how much you love what he’s doing to you, for you, but you can’t manage to form a decent sentence. Thank Merlin, Enzo catches on and pushes your body down, making you lay down on the bed and fucking your pussy even harding with just his tongue and fingers. An euphoric cry and your pooling arousal tell Enzo he needs to let your body recover for a moment. He crawls over you, adoring your squirming body as you come down from your high.

Enzo places a kiss on your cheek and whispers a little confession. “I hated seeing you in Draco’s arms, so I purposely spilled that drink on you to get you away from him and underneath me.” Your mind is still hazy from your orgasm, but slowly a surprised look forms on your face. “What? Why?” He gives you another kiss. “I wanted you to be mine so bad, darling, you gave me no choice, but I’ll spend the entire night making it up to you.” He pushes himself off of you and starts undressing. You shameless stare at his hard, precum soaked dick and feel your pussy ache for him. Having your lustful eyes focus on his hard member has Lorenzo feeling more confident than ever.

You watch him carefully as he takes place in front of your entrance and grabs your legs to rest them against his shoulder. He gently diggs the tip of his cock inside of you, teasing you. As a whine leaves your lips, he smirks pleased with the effect he has on you. “I’m going to fuck you so slow and so deep.” He places a soft kiss on your lips and slowly thrusts his dick into you. You seriously worry for a moment if it's normal for a dick this hard to be so deep inside of you as he leans over you almost folding you. “Enz, so much.” You manage to mutter in between moans. “Don’t worry, you’ll stretch.” At a teasingly slow and steady pace he fucks deep into you at angle that has you seeing stars. You want to complain about his slow pace, opening your mouth to say something. But the sensations he makes you feel, keep you quiet and Enzo can’t help but grin at your failed protest. Being filled with more pleasure with every thrust, your body seems to reach a limit and your eyes get watery as your second orgasm hits you. All Enzo thinks about as he watches your blissful and pretty face is how he hopes you’ll stay with him.

You laying there, worn out and coming down from your high, has Enzo worried that him continuing to fuck you for his own needs might hurt. “You okay, darling?” You smile at his soft voice like he didn’t just angle you like a doll to then fuck you dizzy. “I’m better than okay, Enzo. I feel like I’m in heaven.” He bites his lip, pleased with his work and fucking into you only a few more times before climaxing. You always thought Lorenzo was handsome, but hearing him moan and pant while his eyes get shiny from his orgasm was just godly.

He lets himself fall next to you, clearly exhausted from the intense workout. “I overheard Pansy say you were looking for a husband- I mean boyfriend. So I thought I would show you my skill in an attempt to convince you.” You giggle at his little mistake and crawl closer to him. “I’m also a great listener and I play the piano.” He adds and you kiss his shoulder, making your way up to his lips. “I’m definitely considering you as potential boyfriend material.” You whisper playfully, earning a little butt squeeze from Enzo. Consider? Oh, darling, don’t taunt me. I’ll fuck you silly.

#slytherin #slytherin boys #enzo berkshire #enzo berkshire imagine #enzo berkshire x reader #papercorgiworldwritings

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im-totally-not-an-alien-2 · 1 year

Text

Danny slowly lowered himself down onto Luther's newest death machine thanks to his bat themed grappling hook. Making special care not to let his heart beat or his lungs take in breath lest Superman hear him and intervene, he used his intangibility to sink into the machine itself to steal its parts.

Yeah, so a full white outfit wasn't the best choice for stealth, but it was better than dressing like a traffic light. Plus the black gloves and boots made him feel nostalgic. It had been only seven months since the accident that took his life, so much has happened since then.

Biting his lip as he smiled as he began gathering up parts and wires with his intangibility and placing them into his bag. Lastly he grabbed the power source, which-surprise, surprise, is kryptonite.

After he grabbed what he wanted he quickly stuck a note on the maintenance panel of the machine for when someone opened it and discovered it now had a large hollow space, then simply sank down through the floor and flew to freedom.

Danny sighed once he was clear. Or, at least he thought he was.

"Young man." Crud. Danny turned around to see big blue floating behind him in all his red underwear glory. Great. "I believe you have something that doesn't belong to you." The Kryptonian said, looking pointedly at the large chunk of kryptonite Danny held under his arm.

Instead of an excuse, Danny got an idea. "Uh, hello? Recognize the mask?" He said, gesturing to his face.

Superman narrowed his eyes, staring at his face for a few very long seconds and just as Danny was about to cut his losses and book it out of there, a look of recognition graced the heros face. Sweet. "Thats Nightwings mask."

"Yeah. Just smaller."

Superman nodded, then asked, "Why aren't you wearing a bat symbol? I wouldn't have thought you were a thief if I knew you were working with Batman." Danny had to fight to keep his face neutral.

"I haven't decided what symbol I want on my suit yet." And that was true. Danny wasn't sure he wanted any symbol at all. The mark of the bat would mean that he belonged in the batclan, and Danny was a lone ghost. A wandering spirit if you will. He didn't belong anywhere.

Some small part of his mind that sounded suspiciously like Jazz said that might be one of the reasons he's been behaving so poorly lately, but he brushed it off. Superman just nodded sagely. Danny doubted he actually knew how Danny felt and was just nodding along to appear sympathetic. Adults lie, and they lie often. Danny kinda hated them for it.

"Well, I'm kinda on a deadline, so I should get going. Crime to fight, goth furry to annoy, you know how it is." Danny said, waving the arm that wasn't carrying the kryptonite around in the air before using it to readjust the bags strap on his shoulder.

"Alright," superdude smiled warmly, "Tell Batman I said hi." Danny grinned back at him as he jogged away, "Will do!"

That went better than expected. Thank you, Nightwing~! The boy thought to himself as he ran off into a secluded area and turned invisible and flying away.

Just imagining Supermans face if- no- when Batman finally breaks and tells the Justice League about the little menace thats been stealing all his and his sidekicks stuff for the last few weeks nearly sends Danny into hysterics.

Danny still has Robins sword mounted above the fireplace in his favorite safe house in Costa del Sol. Red Hoods "favorite" motorcycle was in its garage and Red Robins wrist computer and chest harness thing were mounded in a glass case next to the first thing he stole from them:

Batmans utility belt.

Sure, its a pain to remove all the tracking stuff from them, but man is he proud of those accomplishments.

Still. Its better to leave Metropolis after he got caught by Superman. Its only a mater of time before someone finds out about the old switcheroo he pulled at the last museum robbery and that combined with the bodies of those creepy rich guys he had killed (human trafficer buyers) well, surely Batman has noticed he had been gone for a while and would pick up on the matching M.O. in Metropolis.

Time to bounce.

#dpxdc #fanfiction prompts #prompts #dp x dc #danny phantom #danny fenton #batman #superman #danny being a little gremlin #villian danny #evil danny #he killed vlad but vlad had something set up to out danny if he ever died so danno had to run into a new world #danny has tasted blood and keeps killing evil rich guys who reminds him of creepy uncle vlad #human trafficing is a huge no no to danny and he will hunt you down #danny steals the bats stuff and made them run around in circles. he even managed to trick the bats into chasing one of thier own #by swaping his tracking signal with thiers. the look of confusion on everyones faces when the bat was cornered was gold. too bad he had to #see it on a screen and not in real time #now...what city to hit next?

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euphemiaamillais · 4 months

Note

smth like reader and coryo being best friends and getting stuck in a small room (or smth like that yk) and they just can't ignore the sexual tension!! Please 😭😭

blurb - best friend!coryo and reader get up to some antics in a bedroom once they realise they are locked in…

cw: 18+//pussy eating//piv sex//semi-public sex//tipsy (but consensual) sex//alcohol consumption

(an: coryo is way too nice in this for my liking, but i don't think the reader would be that close with him if he was a complete asshole towards her

your head is swimming from all the noise that pounds out of the speakers at lysistrata vickers’ party. you are all celebrating the end of the semester, and the last break before you will officially be graduates of the academy. you are wearing a tiny black dress; barely covering your ass, and have to admit you are getting a little hazy on account of the whisky somebody had poured into a glass for you about an hour ago.

you stand to one side in the cramped hallway, watching as drunken seniors stumble past, some with their arms around each other; others patting their friends—green in the face—on the back before making a beeline for the bathroom. you’re alone, for now, and are pondering on how you shall entertain yourself for the night. you’d arrived here with your best friend, coriolanus snow, but he’d wandered off some time ago when festus creed had offered him some vodka.

as you waited, gnawing on your lip, loneliness swilling in your belly, your felt somebody creep up behind you. their breath was hot against your neck, and soon enough a pair of hands crept around your waist, pulling you flush against what appeared to be the torso of a well-toned boy. you swore to god if it was festus trying to coax you into his bed again—that had ended badly the last two times—you were going to turn around and slap him square across the jaw.

‘guess who,’ a familiar voice rings out, and you sigh with relief.

‘coryo!’ you turn around, thankful that it’s him. his blonde hair hangs in one eye, and you reach up to tuck it behind his ear. your cheeks are a little warm as you feel yourself caress him a little too much, but you put it down to alcohol. he’s your best friend after all.

‘don’t tell me you’re standing here all alone,’ he cajoled, and you smile sheepishly, casting him a knowing look.

‘you were the one that left me, if i remember correctly!’ you scold, smacking him across the arm.

'mhm, i'm sorry,' he gives your waist a squeeze, causing you to inhale sharply in surprise. he's always so touchy with you; you know it probably means very little, but still, you can't help but feel your heart pounding.

'well, what have you been doing then?' you cock a brow, an impish grin playing upon your lips.

he chuckles, shaking the bottle of what appears to be posca—that goddamned drink that they plied you with at academy dinners. 'well, festus was so insistent that i have some of his mother's homemade posca—he practically forced it down my throat.'

you roll your eyes at his inability to resist what's offered to him, after all, he's a capitol boy, star pupil at the academy. he's not drunk though, just a little buzzed—perhaps that's why he's gripping your waist still. not that you mind...

the party grows louder; and you feel your ears start to ring with the ridiculous noise that is churning out. some underground music from one of those nightclubs that a lot of your peers frequented.

'it's so loud!' you exclaim, pushing yourself closer against the wall, a little breathless. he's still standing so close to you...

he nods, and you glance around, wondering if perhaps you can find a spare room to talk to him. you hadn't come to the party with the intention to be ignored by him half the night—there was so much to discuss! especially when it came to livia cardew and her antics. he always enjoyed relishing in her miseries.

'look, i think that door's open,' you remark, casting your gaze to the door behind his shoulder.

you step away from him, reaching for the doorknob, and wiggle it a little. it lets loose, and the door eases open. the room is small—well, at least by capitol standards—but well adorned. it's some sort of guest room, you assume.

coryo follows you, and you let the door shut behind you with a click. for some reason, you are compelled to check if it is shut properly, from the inside. you twist the knob, but find that you cannot get out. your face is red with embarrassment.

'oh!' you cry out, and coryo casts a bewildered look in your direction.

'what's wrong?' he's a little perplexed by your outburst; typically you are very sound of mind.

'it seems that we're locked in,' you slap a hand to your forehead. 'fuck!'

he laughs, and takes a sip of the posca, wincing a little as the sweet herbal notes of the drink hit the back of his throat.

'there's nothing funny about this, coriolanus!' you scowl, using his full name to underscore your disgruntled nature. 'if we can't get out, we're going to be stuck in here all night!'

you realise how that would look—coriolanus snow finally fucking you. people had always assumed you were too close, and now this would only confirm the rumours if you couldn't manage to get out.

'you act like that's the worst thing in the world,' he rebuts, posca clearly dampening his usually more serious temperament.

‘well, not all of us are delighted at the prospect of being locked in a room with nothing to entertain them!’ you huff, dropping down on the bed in a haze of fury.

he waves his bottle of posca in your face. ‘not nothing, hm? why don’t you have some? you really need to ease up.’

you accept it, and take a large gulp, trying your hardest not to spit it out in disgust. you’d forgotten how potent it was. your head was swimming already.

‘see, i bet you already feel so much better,’ he slurs a little too enthusiastically. your roll your eyes, quite unnerved at his sudden change in personality. you preferred his more dour nature.

‘nuh uh,’ you shook your head, and then leaned against his shoulder. you were a little sleepy; it was well after midnight, and the posca began to make its way to your limbs. your legs were numb—you knew if you even attempted to stand up you’d send yourself straight to the ground.

coryo wraps one arm around your shoulders, rubbing his hand over the bare skin of your arms. you nestle into him, tingling at his touch. he’s so warm, which is unusual for him—he’s naturally cold blooded—but you relish in it. again, your heart seems to leap in your chest at his touch, like you’re some giddy schoolgirl. you never felt like this when festus had touched you—not even when you’d let him fuck you, mostly out of boredom. did you like coryo?

your head floods with thoughts. surely not? he was your best friend. to do that would be… oh, you don’t know… unnatural? wrong in so many ways? but you did have to admit, he was gut-churningly attractive, with his piercing blue eyes and blonde hair that fell in just the right way.

you recall the rumours from last year about his affair in the alleyway with some girl—something which earned him the reputation of a 'player'. you'd never brought it up with him, just as he'd never questioned what you and festus had gotten up to that cold week in january.

‘you’re so warm, coryo,’ you find yourself slurring. god, what had this posca done to you? you were behaving like a fool.

‘yeah?’ he asks softly, and you feel his touch drop lower, one hand caressing the outline of your breast. he’s practically ghosting over the fabric of your dress, but you can feel the fabric prickling ever so slightly as he moves his fingers.

‘coryo…’ you slur, but you don’t stop him. it feels nice.

he’s wanted this for so long. he’s usually not one for the girls at the academy—besides you. his beautiful best friend, his intelligent best friend. at first he was disgusted that he was able to admire a woman in such a way, but he decided that if everybody else did it, it wasn’t entirely beneath him. and besides, you were worthy of him. you’d proved yourself adequate in many ways.

coryo places a kiss on your outstretched neck, and you gasp, his lips hot against your chilled skin. you feel something hot between your thighs; that nagging sensation you got when you touched yourself late at night. goddamnit—why did your body have to betray you like this?

‘you’re so fucking perfect,’ he murmurs in the crook of your neck, sucking at the delicate skin of your décolletage. ‘gonna make you mine…’

your heart pounds in your ears at his last sentence; the way he utterly wants to possess you. you wonder if it’s just the heady effects of the posca, or if he really means it.

his kisses send shivers down your spine, skin tingling with pleasure. you had to admit, it felt so damn good. if you were going to be locked in this room all night, perhaps letting him touch you a little wouldn’t be the worst thing in the world.

‘mhm,’ you sigh, wrapping your hands around his neck. you pull him away from collarbones, where he’s sucked hot, red marks into your skin, and press your lips against his.

it’s gentle at first, not like the other boys you’ve kissed who shoved their tongues down your throat. he kisses you with passion, mouth hot with want, hands clawing at your dress which has already begun to ride up around your hips.

you moan into him, and open your mouth, feeling him slide his tongue in. it’s so hot and wet, your lips pressing against each other, him driving a hand between your thighs. he doesn’t ask, but you don’t mind, ceding all rights to him. the posca is causing your head to spin, but if anything it only makes him want you all the more.

you pull away for a moment, catching your breath. you are almost gasping. ‘coryo… i,’ you huff in exasperation.

‘shhh,’ his hand is stroking the inside of your thigh, and reflexively you clamp your legs together, trapping him. you don’t mean to, it’s only that you’re just so pent up.

‘i’m sorry,’ your voice trails off, watching as he pushes your legs apart, fingers ghosting over the sensitive apex that leads to your cunt. you’re aching for him, so wet that you can hardly bare it. it’s embarrassing.

‘fuckin’ hell’ he grits his teeth together in awe when he brushes a finger over your panties. ‘so fucking wet. is this all for me?’

you nod drunkenly, head nestled against his shoulder. you are barely afloat, so overwhelmed with pleasure that you are unable to hold yourself up.

‘dirty little slut,’ he spits, and you whine as he begins to rub at your clit. ‘all wet for your best friend. you’re practically begging for me, what, locking us in this room.’

‘didn’t mean to…’ you slur, but you’re too lost in the way he touches you; your core aching with every ministration. you felt that familiar nagging knot in your stomach begin to form, growing as he touched you more.

‘look at you; it’s pathetic,’ he cows, pulling away from you. you’re whining, desperate for him, bottom lip trembling with need.

‘please coryo,’ you grab his hand, attempting to put it back against your sensitive clit. he pulls away, shaking his head.

‘oh no, you don’t get to tell me what to do,’ he scolds, and you scowl.

he slides his hands back up your thighs, rucking your dress up around your waist and sliding your panties down. he shakes his head in disbelief. they’re soaked completely through.

‘you wear these just for me, huh?’ he questioned, holding the tiny, black lacy thing in his hands. ‘wanted me to take them off and fuck you like the stupid slut you are?’

your mouth goes dry. the way he’s speaking to you… it’s so nasty, and yet you can only feel yourself aching for him. wondering how his cock would feel as it stretched you out; fucking you until you were crying out his name.

‘coryo…’ you can hardly speak; the words are like dirt in your mouth.

he tosses your panties to the side, and moves away from your clinging grip, sliding to the ground. he’s on his knees, hands on either side of your thighs. is he? you’d never done this before—festus had been all about receiving, not giving.

‘spread your legs,’ he coaxes, and you oblige, cunt so fucking wet that you can feel the slick dribbling down your thighs.

he presses kisses up your shins, and then further, past your knees, as if he is praising your body. he gets to your thighs, which are hot and humming with fervour, and nips at the soft skin just as he did on your neck.

you are in agony over how slow he is, so you reach down to rub at your throbbing clit, but he grips your wrist, hard, and casts a disappointed look at you.

‘what did i say about touching yourself?’ he clucked his tongue in displeasure.

you sigh, helpless, and prop yourself up on his elbows. his mouth is edging closer to your cunt, and you whine again, desperate to be touched. you wonder how many girls he’s done this to before—but you find your heart spurs with a little jealousy at the thought of that. no, he’s your coryo after all.

‘please!’ you gasp pathetically, and he obliges, for once, tongue ghosting over your wet slit.

you whimper, his mouth soothing that hot desperation that burns at your core, and grip at the tresses of blonde curls that spill from his head. you have to admit, you’d thought about this a few times—he was terribly attractive after all.

he laps at the slick that is dribbling from your cunt, and artfully moved his tongue up and down your folds; taking care to ek out your desperation by avoiding your clit. he delights in teasing you; at the thought of making you beg for him to let you cum. his pretty best friend, her even prettier pussy, all for him.

you taste so good, and you hear a muffled moan escape his throat as he fucks you with his tongue. he moves his mouth up further, finally wrapping his lips around your clit. you cry out, cunt throbbing with want.

his hands move to grip at your thighs, hard enough that you’re sure there will be bruises tomorrow. he’s lapping at your cunt like it’s his last meal; deftly sucking on your sensitive, throbbing clit.

you feel yourself getting closer; that tight knot unfurling, your walls clenching. you sigh at the pleasant tingling feeling that begins to dance upon your skin as you tug lightly on his hair, coaxing him on.

‘i’m so close,’ you somehow manage to gasp out, admiring his skilful abilities with his tongue.

he keeps the same pace, clearly well-versed in the art of cunnilingus. you feel yourself clasp your thighs around his neck, unable to control your pleasure.

‘sorry,’ you groan out, realising you are half-suffocating him. he gives your thigh a squeeze, indicating that he’s enjoying it.

you feel yourself unravel right there, slickness gushing from your cunt as your walls contract. he moves his mouth from your clit and licks up all the slick, moaning at the sweetness of your spend. he sticks a finger into your hole, and you whine at the overstimulation.

‘so fuckin’ sweet,’ he licks your wetness off his fingers, and moves to sit himself back on the bed.

you’re completely fucked out, high on bliss and pleasure; half-forgetting that you were at a party. you wonder if anyone had heard, and prayed silently that they hadn’t.

coriolanus brushes hair from your eyes, tendrils sticking to the beads of sweat that clung to your forehead. you manage to sit up, a little hazy, and see that he’s throbbing in his pants. your mouth fills with drool at the thought of his cock, and your face burns hot in embarrassment.

‘you’re hard, coryo,’ you tease, hand reaching out to rub the outline of his bulge. he grunts, but doesn’t stop you this time.

you purse your lips, and cast him a wide-eyed look. god, he wants to fuck you right then and there. but before he can do anything, you push him down against the bed, straddling him with your tender thighs.

‘that fucking desperate for me?’ he inquires, and you nod, fucked out on the desire for his cock.

you grind down against his pants, bare pussy rubbing against the rough fabric. your hands travel to the zipper, and you manage to pull his pants down to his knees. you palm him through his underwear—letting him know that two could play at the teasing game—until he practically had to beg you to stop.

‘gonna fuck you,’ you mouth hotly, slipping your hand under the waistband of his boxers.

you feel up and down the length—it’s long, for sure, and thick. you’d wondered if the rumours about him being largely endowed were true; now you could certainly feel that they were.

‘don’t be such a tease,’ he pleads, and you giggle, managing to slide his boxers off completely.

his cock is pressed flush against his stomach; it’s throbbing and so red, the tip almost angry looking. you slide your pussy over it, wanting to rile him up, but feel his hands grip at your love handles. he cocks a brow in disapproval.

‘you’re so big,’ you sigh breathily, trying to position yourself to slide him in. your cunt is trembling with want.

‘afraid i might stretch you out?’ he asks vulgarly. you shake your head with a little laugh.

‘mhm, no, i’m just glad,’ you remark. ‘festus was so inadequate.’

you see him wince at the name, and pout a little. classic jealousy on his behalf. he never did well with being second-best.

‘oh, don’t worry coryo,’ you stroke his chest teasingly. ‘you’ve done more than prove yourself already.’

having to soothe his ego was a little frustrating, but you figured he was probably going to be better than that useless rut. he’d already made you come. that was a start.

you ease his tip in slowly, gasping as he stretches you out. you find, unfortunately, that you’ll have to be slow. he’s just that big. he groans under you, cock twitching with desperation.

‘so fuckin’ tight,’ he says, one hand clutching at your ass. you sink down further, taking him in about halfway.

‘gonna stretch you out,’ he coos, rubbing gently at the small of your back.

you sigh with contentment, bucking your hips slowly, trying to take him further. you groan, the slick of your cunt coating his throbbing cock.

he thrusts up into you, and you feel him stretch you out more; pushing himself to the hilt. you gnaw on your lip, trying to hold back a whimper. it feels so good; the rigid veins of his cock brushing against your sensitive walls.

‘oh, coryo,’ you find yourself gasping out as you slide up and down his cock, the sound of your wetness mingling with that of skin slapping.

‘fuck,’ he grunts, fingers digging into your ass, pulling you down hard against his cock. ‘you feel so fucking tight.’

you toss your head back in pleasure, and find yourself wondering why you hadn’t done this sooner. he feels so good inside of you, pounding your achy cunt. you feel your core growing warm again with desire, and slide your fingers down to rub at your swollen clit.

‘mhm,’ you sigh pleasantly, fucking yourself stupid on his big, hard cock. ‘so fucking good, coryo.’

you build up a little momentum, needing him with more urgency, and find he responds diligently. he pulls you down against his cock, so you’re almost flush against his belly, and he pounds into you.

‘taking me so well,’ he mutters, grunting as your tight cunt squeezes him. he’s close, he can feel it, his muscles tensing up, cock trembling with need. his mouth goes dry at the thought of finishing inside of you.

you feel him cry out with exasperation, and it’s not long before he finishes inside of you, hot spurts of cum leaking from his tip. you continue to rock back and forth against him in feckless hope of making yourself come again, but it comes to no avail.

he slides out of you, cock still dripping with cum, and you lay down sloppily next to him. your breaths are ragged, the posca washing a tiredness over you. he drapes one arm lazily around you—a little more affectionate than he’d been with you before.

you rest your head against his chest, listening to the pounding of his heart. you’re yet to fully comprehend it all. you’re sure tomorrow you’ll probably wake up questioning what you’ve done, regret washing over you.

you’re not sure how to feel—you enjoyed it, that’s for sure; the way he made you cum using only his tongue, how he stretched you out with his big cock. but he’s your best friend… you’d never assumed something like this would come to fruition.

you decide that it’s probably for the best to put it aside, at least for the evening. your eyes begin to flutter shut, and you nestle into his warm embrace.

you feel yourself drifting off, heady with bliss and the effects of potent alcohol…

—

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