#WHY THE FUCK HAVE I NOT BEEN DRAWING HER SO MUCH BEFORE
Text
attention (TWICE Nayeon)
word count: 6.1K
(she's been on my radar since the killing voice medley, and well, yeah, enjoy!)
-- -- --
You’re seething, forcing the amber liquid down, watching the people mingle. You should introduce yourself to some because networking at events like this always gives you the chance to meet the next up and coming.
But not tonight.
You don’t even want to be here. You weren’t on the original guest list, but with last minute changes and someone’s wife suddenly going into labor, your boss forced you to attend.
Maybe the proper term is chaperone.
All you wanted to do tonight was spend some time with this woman you’ve been casually seeing. Nothing serious, nothing committal, just dinner and drinks that had the potential of ending together in a bed. You had been dragging it out, and you think it’s warranted. She makes it obvious she’s interested.
But with how this evening was looking, you’ll be spending the night with someone else.
That someone is across the room, draped over some man you’re more than likely going to have to do damage control. She’s an idol after all, and rumors will spread like a wildfire about her being linked to someone who’s nowhere near her caliber.
She catches you staring, sending a sly smirk as she leans into whatever-his-face is saying. A little too close for the company’s taste and a shit ton too much for your sake.
“Dear fuck,” You mumble, shaking your head before standing.
You don’t know what compels you to walk through the crowd, nodding politely at those that wave, but there you are, less than a meter away from where she’s seated.
“Nayeon,” You say coolly. The man quickly separates himself, going as far away from the woman in question. “Time to go. You have an early day tomorrow.”
Nayeon tilts her head, a questioning glint in her eye because she, out of all of the members, knows her schedule. She has nothing for tomorrow, except maybe rest and recovery because this is her fault you’re here.
Well, maybe you should backtrack. It’s technically your fault because if you hadn’t mentioned to Sana and Momo the plans you originally had, you wouldn’t be at some event against your will. It was an innocent question on how you were going to spend the weekend, the only mistake was that you said too much that they went running to their unnie.
“Okay,” Nayeon says slowly, standing before bidding farewell to the people at the table. You wait for her, obviously, because that’s what you’re supposed to do. “Shall we?” She asks as she turns to face you.
You nod, stepping side before bowing politely. You’ll have to send a message to the media team to stop any photos releasing of Nayeon and the man, but that could wait. There were more pressing matters that needed your attention.
It isn’t until you’re inside your car that she says something that ticks you off, “So no date with Suji-unnie tonight?”
You shake your head, composing yourself because it’s a question she knows the answer to. “Nope, duty calls. Had to be here.”
“How unfortunate,” Nayeon says casually as if she had no part in how your night turned out, slouching in the passenger seat as you shift the car into drive. “Yours or mine? ” She asks, looking out the window. Adding, “Momo’s in Japan.”
“Mine,” You answer simply, turning onto the street.
-- --
You should’ve seen it coming, but you let it happen.
The company and management would have you barred from working with anyone in the industry if they ever found out. You reasoned that was why by the time things unfolded, it was out of your control.
How it started was subtle, nothing too out of the ordinary to draw attention to her mostly. She flirted with you, commenting on your outfits about how it looked good on you and you, being you, would return the sentiment. It wasn’t anything explicit, just a polite acknowledgement of her looking great, something she heard daily from the girls and other people on the team.
She lingered to walk with you whether it was crowded or not, it didn’t matter. She was right by your side, and the times where fans were around, she’d be especially close that you had no other choice to wrap your arm around her, shielding her from people who desperately wanted her attention. You missed the snickers from the girls, rolling their eyes because they knew what she was up to, while you were just doing your job.
Then she texted you on free days, asking if you wanted to do something. Anything from getting food at hole-in-the-wall restaurants she learned about from Chaeyoung to intimate concerts of artists in the industry. You tried to decline, advising her to go with one of the female managers so it wouldn’t look suspicious to the public eye, but she was adamant about going with you. Some of the girls would join from time to time, but the majority of the time, it was just you two.
Again, you thought nothing of it. You were the closest to her, so no one batted an eye when she put in the group chat when something was planned.
That was just how your relationship was with her for five years since the group debuted.
Until one night.
You were working late, going over the travel plans for the girls’ encore tour, tucked away in your office. A short four-city stint in the United States that would be a bit of a hustle for them, but you knew they could do it.
There were a soft two knocks, scaring you because you thought everyone had already left. You remembered the way you said come in, raspy and tired, when the door opened slightly, the half of Nayeon’s face peeking through the crevice.
You smiled immediately, sitting straight, nodding as she stepped inside. You took note of her outfit. Something comfortable since they had dance rehearsals for the better part of the day, dark sweats and a heather grey cropped hoodie that showed a sliver of her skin, peeking from underneath.
You watched Nayeon grow into a beautiful woman. Sexy too, but you slapped yourself every single time you thought of her like that. There had to be some professional line drawn somewhere. Although it seemed that metaphorical line had been blurred, crossed, over the past few months.
She was more affectionate, playing with your fingers in the car, gently touching your arm wherever you walked. She pressed into your side more, even when there were no people around. She hugged you a bit longer than the others, not like you were counting the seconds.
You stood to meet her on the couch, asking if she was alright since she was vocal earlier in the day she wanted to go home to sleep. She explained that she had finished practicing with the dance instructor. You admired how hard she worked, which for what it was worth, you thought she did well during rehearsals.
“And I saw your office light on as I was leaving, thought I’d say goodbye,” Nayeon rested her head on your outstretched arm. It wasn’t out of the norm, something she did quite frequently in front of everyone.
“You should rest,” You urged, softly squeezing her shoulder as she snuggled into you. “You did great today.”
Nayeon looked up at you, gaze briefly shifting to your lips before meeting your eyes, “Really?”
You hadn’t realized it before, but as she stared at you, you could see how much she needed the affirmation, the reassurance, the praise, from you.
You cleared your throat, looking away because it suddenly felt hot in your office. With Nayeon this close, her perfume faint, it had you dizzy. You mumbled a shy yeah.
You knew the moment her hand touched your thigh, it was over. Everything you worked for, investing time and resources to make sure the girls you managed were successful, would be tossed down the drain because the undeniable tension that had been building over the past however long at this point broke.
The thing was, you didn’t know about it until that moment.
You weren’t sure who kissed who first, and it didn’t matter. All you knew was she was on top, your arms pulling her closer as your lips met in a heated kiss, swallowing each other’s moans.
Something clicked inside of you, like this was always supposed to happen. Every message, every call, every playful push, every stolen glance, every single thing led to this.
“Nayeon,” You tore yourself apart, hyper aware of the small whine leaving her mouth as you tried to get some grip on the situation. “What’re we doing? We can’t do this.”
Her eyes narrowed, glaring, and you knew that whatever resolve you had would be taken from you by her whether you liked it or not. She was never one to be challenged, always exceeding whatever expectation was placed on her.
“And why not?” Her voice was steady, but her body was not. She dropped to her knees in between your legs. All the thoughts you pushed deep down inside you came rushing to the surface, dismantling the walls you put up for her to break it so easily. “You don’t think I’m pretty?” Her hands were on the waistband of your slacks, trailing along, stopping when she reached the button.
You didn’t have the words, no sentence to form as she slowly, oh so slowly, pulled the zipper down. You nearly choked once she placed her hand over your cock, palming with the softest pressure.
“Your body seems to think so,” She teased, slipping her hand underneath the fabric, wrapping around your cock.
That very thin thread of control you snapped, leaning forward to pull back onto your lap. “That’s a lot to assume,” You quipped, hands gripping her waist firmly.
“Really?” She rolled her hips over you, catching the smirk on her face as your eyes closed. “I think that you’ve always wanted me as much as I wanted you, which I—”
Impulsively, you brought your lips to hers, a searing kiss that she met with the same enthusiasm. You murmured a shut up before nipping her bottom lip, sucking lightly that her body shuddered against you.
You didn’t remember much else from that night.
That was a lie because that was the night she confessed it all. It didn’t help that she somehow slipped all her clothes off and she sunk your cock inside one smooth motion, testing your control once again because you could’ve exploded the moment you felt her warmth wrapped around you.
You remembered it vividly, clearly, as you watched her move on top of you. It was slow, intentional with every drop of her body, like she was showing you what you had been missing. It was hot, tight, and you couldn’t stop the whimper out of your mouth when she started whispering things—nasty, filthy things that you would have never guessed were in her vocabulary.
Nayeon bit your ear lobe, murmuring how good you felt, how she got so wet whenever she saw you. The soft moan she let out. The dazed, lust-filled expression with each roll of her hips. You couldn’t stop the noises you made, the groans, the grunts, the fuck every time her pussy tightened.
There was a brief sense of clarity when your stomach tightened, signaling you were close. You couldn’t exactly cum inside her because one, you stupidly (blindly) forgot to put a condom on, and two, you didn’t keep track of her health records (that wasn’t one of your responsibilities among everything else), so getting an idol pregnant wasn’t exactly on your list.
She knew you were close the second your hips thrusted up, stealing a breathy moan. You were content lifting her off you to cum anywhere else that wasn’t inside her.
However, Nayeon was not.
She made it perfectly clear when she wrapped her arms around your neck, pulling you against her as she quickened her pace. You tried, maybe not that much, to get her off you before you met your impending end, but it was futile when she kissed your cheek, affectionately, lovingly, hot breath against your skin that she wanted you to claim her in a way no one else ever had.
Air left your lungs as you came, releasing a lot inside of her, causing her own orgasm that felt like yours went on forever. She muffled her scream, biting into your neck as her body trembled.
You wanted to believe it was a one-time thing, a mishap, a lapse in judgment because it was still your fucking job on the line.
It was not a one-time thing. You couldn’t even count it as a two-time thing, or three, or four. It just kept happening. You couldn’t exactly avoid her, you literally worked for her.
No one would think you favored her because they all knew you did, but they understood why. No one could stop Nayeon from being near you because she would throw a fit. Any crisis she had, you were the main point of contact because she only listened to you.
Even if you had some kind of control over her, she had the most control over you.
Then after some time of figuring out how you and Nayeon could keep whatever this under wraps—nothing was ‘figured out’ as you wouldn’t really be talking if you were alone together—a mutual colleague introduced you to Bae Suji.
--
You went on one date with Suji, or Suzy, as she sometimes preferred. How any of the girls found out was beyond you, but if you had to wager, it would’ve been Jeongyeon or Sana (Nayeon later did say it was the latter because her friend saw you).
It didn’t matter who found out because managers are allowed to have lives outside of their work, but this particular part of your life wouldn’t be allowed by the woman you spent a good chunk of time with, on- and off-the-clock.
To say Nayeon was upset would be an understatement. Sure, she was upset, but she was livid. You didn’t see her that night, but she was at your door the next morning. She did what she always did, easily seducing you before demanding an explanation while you were deep inside her.
It wasn’t healthy by any means, but it’s not like either of you cared. It was toxic at best, but it was debauchery at its absolute worst, using sex as a loaded gun to get whatever you wanted from each other.
“You know we can’t keep doing this,” You grunted as you thrusted inside her, pausing as her pussy tightened.
“Yet here you fucking are, still balls deep inside of me,” Nayeon said lowly, tugging you so you towered over her. “You aren’t fucking her so why did you even go out with her?”
You didn’t bother responding, instead you wrapped a firm hand around her neck, squeezing enough to shut her up because at that point, she was pissing you off.
You would admit that that morning was the first time you let her get the best of you. You typically weren’t aggressive with her. You might’ve been rough less than a handful of times, but never like that.
What you couldn’t predict was how she’d react. She could have done anything. Hit you. Slap you. Push you off.
She didn’t.
It spurred her on more than anything. By the way her pussy tightened. By the way it felt wetter. By the way she tried to make a sound, but couldn’t because of the hold around her.
Your hand relaxed, listening to her violently gasp as the air entered her body. You broke for a moment, searching for any sign of discomfort, uneasiness, because at the end of the day—you wouldn’t admit this to her—you loved her. You were in love with her, stupidly falling for her whether you wanted to or not. You believed she felt the same, but those kinds of things weren’t a topic of discussion.
“Baby,” You whispered, still buried inside of her, but you weren’t moving. “I’m sor—”
Nayeon shook her head, sitting up as you hissed once the cool air hit your cock. She gave you a quick peck before turning onto her stomach, arching her back. Pushing herself up on her hands, she shook her hips side to side, head slightly turned, “Fuck me, daddy.”
A new kink was unlocked that night among a myriad of emotions you weren’t prepared for. One thing you were prepared for was to fuck her like you owned her.
Maybe you did, but she owned you too.
-- --
You open your front door, stepping aside for Nayeon to walk through. Tossing the keys on the side table, the door shuts as you take off your shoes. She’s right next to you, arms crossed behind her back, leaning against the wall. She’s waiting for the reaction you give whenever she pisses you off. She does what she does to rile you up, if that isn’t obvious.
You sigh, shaking your head, standing in front of Nayeon. Her eyes look up, but your gentle hand cups her chin, tilting her head back. When you meet her gaze, there’s something off with her.
You can read her like a book, very familiar with her moods. Though, this time, you see—and feel—the walls up, something unfamiliar to you.
“What’s wrong?” You ask softly, searching her face for anything to give her away. Her expression remains neutral, shrugging indifferently. “Something’s wrong.”
Nayeon pulls away, averting her gaze, “Nothing’s wrong.” Pause. “So are we going to fuck or what? Isn’t that why we’re here?”
“Not with that attitude,” You say sternly, reaching for her arms behind her back. You bring them around, struggling a bit. “What the fuck is your problem?”
“There is no fucking problem. If you want to talk about thoughts and feelings, I’m going to pass,” She breaks away, and you let her. “I’ll call Jihyo or Jeongyeon to pick me up.” She turns to walk away, but you reach out quickly, hand wrapping onto her forearm to pull her back.
Nayeon lets out a small oomph against your chest, glaring at you, unbothered by her attitude (you’ve dealt with worse), “Tell me what the fuck is wrong right now.”
“Or what?” Nayeon huffs, hands on your chest in a feeble attempt to get away from you.
The movement brings your bodies closer, and accidentally, maybe purposely, she grounds her pelvis against you. It’s with the lightest pressure, but it’s enough for your cock to stir, awakening from her heated stare. You notice the way her breath hitches, body shivering as you pull her closer.
“Brat,” You murmur, dropping your head to capture her lips with your teeth. She moans softly when you start sucking. Her hands move to interlace behind your neck. You didn’t want to use sex to get it out of her, but she’s being defiant. “Do you get off on making me mad?”
“Not intentionally, of course.” You feel her smile form, the upward curve of her lips as you slide your tongue in. She sighs dreamily into the kiss, dropping her weight to lean against the wall. You fall into her, practically pinning her. “Is someone going to put me in my place?”
It’s a rhetorical question because there has only been one person to put her in her place.
You.
This evening could have played out in two ways. The first, being the doting lover you’re familiar with, praising her softly like a secret only between you and her, taking your time to draw out every moan and sigh against your lips. The second, the one you’re leaning towards, being the indifferent, apathetic lover, uncaring of if she cums, fucking her until she begs for you, pussy deliciously tight to force you to breed her, claim her, because she’s yours.
“Why not that tool you were all over at the party?” The question catches her off guard, body tensing at the thought that you caught her. She wanted you to catch her though, she has always wanted to be wanted by you. “You knew I was watching across the room,” Pulling away as you tower over her.
“It wasn’t like that,” Nayeon rushes out, the excuse you’ve heard multiple times before. The false panic in her eyes means she knew exactly what she was doing to get a reaction out of you. “We were just talking.”
“I don’t believe that,” You click your tongue, the image of her with someone else like that sparks a possessive desire. “That wasn’t very good of you, baby.” Void of any affection associated with the pet name. Under the dim light of your hallway, you see her eyes dilate and her breathing picks up. She wants you and fuck do you want her too. “Room. Now.”
Nayeon nods obediently. You reward her with a soft, chaste kiss. She tries her best to keep your lips together, but you tap her hip twice and she pulls away. “Daddy.” She whines, pouting in hopes it’ll get her more than you’re giving. You thought she’d last longer before using her nickname for you.
“Don’t be a brat,” Your eyes narrow, challenging her because if she wants to act out even more, you’d just have to punish her. “Go to the room now.” Nayeon’s eyes widen at your tone, nodding once before walking down the hallway.
You tilt your head side-to-side, stretching the muscles before making a quick stop in the kitchen. You know you’ll both be exhausted whenever you finish, so you might as well at least have water nearby. You’ll find the energy to make her food in the morning, or there’s always takeaway. With two water bottles in hand, you kick your room door open to Nayeon perched on the edge of your bed, topless, only leaving her red lace bottoms, dress tossed haphazardly on the chair.
“For later, okay?” Momentarily breaking out of character because you still care for her, and her well-being will always be your top priority. She sends you a grateful smile before you place the bottles on the dresser. When you meet her on the bed, she moves to swing her leg over yours, but you shake your head. “Not yet, baby. You weren’t very good back there.”
“But, but,” Nayeon’s voice trembles, biting her lip. “I didn’t mean it!”
“Then why did you act out? Do I not give you what you want?” You gently push Nayeon off to her original position.
“You do!” She says desperately, nodding her head.
“Then why? Why him?” You taunt, deciding how far you want to go with her tonight. Something’s still wrong, and you need to know what. You want the reason, the confession, because she doesn’t keep secrets from you. You see the wheels turning, unsure if whatever she has to say would matter. It does matter to you. “So what is it?”
“Because I wanted your attention,” Nayeon confesses before she jumps on you, landing perfectly on your already hard cock. She moans at the contact, grinding slightly before your hands find themselves on her hips, guiding her movement. “I wanted you to remind me who I belong to.”
“And who’s that?” You say lazily, tongue trailing against her lower lip before dipping inside, swirling that she grounds harder.
“You,” Voice dropping low, seductively adding, “Daddy.”
You have to still make her pay her retribution. She’s almost there, telling you the real reason, and you’ll get it out of her. You easily lift her body off yours, smirking at the whine and huff when you pull away as you lay her on your stomach against your lap. “I still have to punish you, baby.” You rest your hand on her back, ghosting over her skin until you reach her low back.
“But daddy,” Nayeon huffs, raising her hips in a feeble attempt to get your hand where she wants. “It didn’t mean anything,” She repeats, squirming on your lap.
Your hand goes lower, hovering over her buttcheek, “It meant something to me,” You say pensively. Curious, prodding, “Is that why you wanted me to fill in instead of Seoyeon-unnie? You didn’t want me to go on my date.”
You don’t hear a response. You swiftly bring your hand down to her bottom, a resounding smack echoes through the room. “Well?”
Silence again, which would result in another slap to the other cheek. She muffled a moan into the bedsheets, refusing to budge.
Bingo.
Her pride is her biggest downfall, ego constantly needing to be stroked. She loves the attention and adoration from fans, thriving off the praise, knowing that it’s all for her. She would rather suffer through the pain than have to admit she was jealous.
The center of attention, the one in the limelight, spotlight shining on her and only her. She craves that from you, to be the center of your world, but ever since Suji came into the picture, she’s scared that there might be someone else, crashing like a meteor on unstable ground she’s never had.
You continue with the slaps, easing the sting with light rubs. You know she’s soaked, the small dark circle forming on her underwear. You’re not faring any better, cock tenting against the fabric.
After the seventh hit, Nayeon moans, body shaking wantonly in frustration. “Fuck fuck, please, please.”
“Tell me the truth.” Coercion isn’t the best method, manipulative by any definition, but you had no other choice.
“Fine, fine.” You relent, hand halting mid-air. “I didn’t want you to go. You’re supposed to be mine,” She cries, breath uneven as she tries to compose herself.
Your hand drops. Her body flinches when she feels it against her skin, but continues to wait, anticipating your next move. Your chest squeezes at the confession because she’s never been this vulnerable, open, willing to express her feelings for you.
You give in, to her, to this, the urge to suddenly show her who owns you becomes too great. You pull her up, laying her on the bed as you fall in between her legs.
“Baby,” You murmur, leaning forward to brush your lips against her ear, “You’re being so good. I am yours,” Her body shivers, hips rolling up into nothing as she seeks some kind of friction. “I’m yours,” You repeat like a mantra, a reminder of what you’ve always said. “You deserve a reward, okay?”
Nayeon shakes her head, eyes shooting open, wild with want and desire. “I can’t wait, daddy.” She reaches for your shirt, ripping the buttons, before stopping at your belt. “Inside me, please. I need to feel you.”
You do nothing to stop her, hands swiftly moving to unbuckle your belt and slipping your cock out of your briefs. You groan when she wraps around your length, stroking lightly. She aims the tip at her opening, against the lace, uncontrollably moaning and panting.
“Go ahead,” You goad, eyes fixated on your cock rubbing over her. The wetness seeps on you, mouth watering at the sight. You watch as she moves her underwear to the side, lining up your cock perfectly, the warmth and wetness surrounding you has you seeing stars.
“I’m so wet, daddy,” Nayeon moans loudly, scooting closer to take more of you in. “All for you—fuck.”
You couldn’t help yourself. She felt too good, too wet, and the tightness suffocates you the second you snap your hips forward, burying your cock to the hilt inside her. The sudden stretch has her head snapping back, screaming into the air.
“You’re such a slut, always ready for my cock,” You choke out, hands settling on her hips before drawing backwards. Her body squirms, chasing after the sensation of being filled. “So needy tonight, baby.”
“Please, please,” Nayeon begs, doing everything she can to get all of you back inside her. She wants you, wants you so no one else can have you, desperate for the feeling you give her. She thrusts her hips down, sucking you in unexpectedly, that you nearly collapse on top of her. Her arms wrap around you, nails digging into your skin when your length rubs along her walls. “Fuck me. You own me.”
“Mine?” You’re able to catch a breath, holding on to the control you’re trying to keep.
“Yours.”
It snaps, breaking the moment she says the word, possessing you to pull back before sliding back in. You lose yourself inside her, each moan and breathy sigh, as you set a steady pace. It’s a beautiful sensation for Nayeon’s pussy hugging your cock perfectly, warm, wet, tight—just for you.
Her nails trail down, scratching your back enough that you’ll see the damage later. The pain turns you on, snapping your hips, driving your cock through. You nearly falter when your eyes meet hers. It’s akin to love, a word that has been dangerously sitting on the tip of your tongue these past few months.
“I—fuck,” You stutter out. You can’t tell her how you feel. You can’t. You shouldn’t. You won’t.
“I love you.”
You swear you misheard her. The three words forming the sentence that has you over the moon. She says it again, softly, affectionately, because she means it.
“You love me?” You cease your movements, cock bottoming out inside of her. The snugness of her pussy warms your cock as you wait. She doesn’t hesitate, saying it again and again before pulling your lips to hers.
“I love you,” Nayeon mumbles, tongue running along your bottom lip.
“Fuck,” You pull away, hips drawing back before flipping her body over. She raises her hips, the beautiful arch in her back. You tear the lacy garment off, making a silent promise you’ll buy her another later. You’ll buy her whatever she wants. “I love you,” You whisper before sinking in, missing the way her eyes roll back.
You couldn’t control what happened next as the words triggered her orgasm. Her pussy pulls you in, suffocating you so you wouldn’t leave—not like you had anywhere to go. You’d lose yourself inside her ten times out of ten.
“Fuck daddy, I’m cumming,” Nayeon screams, panting as her body shudders, pussy tightening and relaxing rhythmically as you groan. You feel the wetness coat your upper thighs, guttural moaning against her hair. “Come inside me, please. I’m yours, yours, oh shit—”
Your stomach tightens, snapping at the way her ass cheeks ripple against your pelvis, moving uncontrollably as she coaxes your orgasm. Your hands grip her muscles, hips erratically thrusting into her as your release floods her, painting every crevice inside her.
Nayeon leans her head back, enough for you to kiss her forehead. Her hands find yours, interlacing them sweetly as you both try to catch your breath.
You’re still hard, and you’re feeling particularly giving. She can handle whatever you throw at you, so you gently remove one of your hands from hers, trailing slowly to the apex of her thighs. Her breathing hitches, “What’re you doing?”
“Another,” You command as you rub through her folds, finding her clit.
“Wait—wait shit,” The contact catches her by surprise, her body folding forward as you continue your onslaught.
“Good girl,” You murmur, watching as her hips move in slow figure eights with your cock still inside. Her pussy constricts, finding every angle to hit her favorite spot. And when she does, she mewls and pants. “You feel so fucking good, baby.”
Nayeon turns her head, locking eyes with you as she moves faster along your length. Your fingers aren’t idle, applying heavy pressure that has her going crazy, unsure with what to do with the pleasure flowing through her body. You mouth cum and flicking like a switch, she gushes all over you, forcing you to leave her warmth.
“Fuck daddy,” Nayeon screams, voice hoarse as you watch her body convulse, back arching and flexing as she squirts more fluid than you’d ever seen. “I need you, please. Something, anything—oh shit!” Your fingers enter her swiftly, massaging her inner muscles as it just gets wetter, drenching your skin and bedsheets.
“Tell me who owns this pussy,” You say lowly, eyes fixated on the way her butt muscles ripple with every movement of your fingers.
“You,” She repeats your name over and over, pussy sucking you as she tightens deliciously around them. “God, fuck, you, sir, only you.”
You replace your fingers with your cock, aiming at her opening before sinking in once again. Her fingers ball into fists, wrinkling the bed sheets as you nearly go feral on her body. She could take it. She wants you like this, crazy, addicted, in love that no one else could fuck her. She needs to feel how much you want her. She only needs you.
“So easy,” You swing a hand back, slapping each cheek with precision. “All you need is my cock, right?”
“Yes, yes, only yours daddy,” Nayeon nods, easily agreeing to whatever you say. You could call her every name in the book, and she’d comply. She’s your little fucktoy that gets your cock stuffed inside her whenever you want.
You lose it once Nayeon lets out a high-pitched squeal. The orgasm crashes through your body, hips stuttering forcefully into hers as you fill her again, unabashedly rolling your hips to hear her breath staccato.
Every nerve on your body buzzes, stimulated by Nayeon’s walls pulsing to milk you for all that you have. It hits overstimulation, sucking the breath from you as you regretfully pull out. She whines at the loss of contact, but you lean forward, sweetly kissing her buttcheek, nipping at the skin that she squirms.
“Ticklish?” You tease, voice light and relaxed. The exhaustion slowly sets in your bones.
“You know I am,” Nayeon huffs, hips dropping, limbs spread limply.
You’re still a sick human, and you want to see the result of your activities. You nudge Nayeon’s leg, easily responsive as they spread a little. You bite your tongue at the sight of your essence dribbling out of her swollen lips. It’s hot, filthy to see you all over her. You wish you had a phone nearby to snapshot this into memory, but your mind drifts off to recreating it at a later date.
You yawn, collapsing next to her that she scoots to snuggle into your side. You fight to keep your eyes open because you still have to clean up. Nayeon mumbles something into your skin. You don’t quite catch what she says, softly asking her to repeat it, and you freeze.
“I love you.”
It’s a finicky thing, this thing between you and Nayeon. Somewhere along the way, you fell for her. Maybe you knew the moment you met her, or maybe you knew that you would at some point in time. Or maybe you knew the night she walked into your office because by then, it had built up between you that that was the final piece of the puzzle to confirm what you’ve known.
The hormones flow between you, and you can’t help but think that’s the only reason why. You’re an idiot too, “Are you just saying that?” Nayeon’s hand presses into your chest. You open your eyes to her peering over you, hair an unruly mess, “What?”
Nose scrunching, Nayeon rolls her eyes, “You seriously believe I’d throw that around so easily?”
You don’t, but this was Nayeon. You may have been sleeping with her for a while, but you’ve heard the girls talk about their flings. You could almost guarantee that she’s only been sleeping with you, but they know how to hide things.
“Stupid,” Nayeon shakes her head when you ask again. “Did you just say it?”
You did. You do. It’s not just the hormones causing you to act like such a love struck idiot. You weigh the situation, knowing that whatever answer you give will change your relationship. It won’t be an illicit affair between an idol and her manager. It’ll be hard because you’d still have to keep it a secret, unless you changed companies, something you’d be willing to do.
“No,” You send an easy smile, “I love you. I’m in love with you.”
Nayeon’s face lights up, beaming with all her teeth showing, eyes crinkling in the corners. She kisses you, softly, tenderly, a contrast to how you were no less than five minutes ago.
“I love you,” Nayeon says quietly, an unspoken vow passed between you. She understands what this means, being together for real, that there will be hardships, but she’ll do them with you.
You sigh contentedly against her lips, whispering those same three words, full of intent and promise.
“No more dates with Suji-unnie,” Nayeon sing-songs, confident after pecking you on the lips, smug at accomplishing her mission of making you hers.
-- -- --
(pardon any mistakes or typos, lol)
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HEY I HOPE YOURE DOING GREAT !!! I have an idea so … this scenario is like a week before they became a couple (audio 9) and they had a day off since listener finished a case and they decided to take a day off. As listener got ready for sleep they got a little sad and basically went to sleep crying, Isaac still saw light coming from the room and since it was late he decided to check up on them. He walks in and as he was about to turn of the light he sees the tears and puffy cheeks from sleeping listener THEN ISAAC GETS SOFT AND WORRIED SLOWLY TOUCHING THEIR FACW AAAAAAA
𝐋𝐢𝐤𝐞 𝐈 𝐖𝐚𝐧𝐭 𝐘𝐨𝐮 ꨄ Isaac
˜”* ❝𝘽𝙪𝙩 𝙄 𝙘𝙖𝙣'𝙩 𝙢𝙖𝙠𝙚 𝙞𝙩 𝙨𝙚𝙚𝙢 𝙡𝙞𝙠𝙚 𝙄 𝙬𝙖𝙣𝙩 𝙮𝙤𝙪, 𝙚𝙫𝙚𝙣 𝙞𝙛 𝙞𝙩'𝙨 𝙩𝙧𝙪𝙚.❞
⎯⎯ ୨ ୧ ⎯⎯
ꜱʏɴᴏᴘꜱɪꜱ: ʜᴇ ᴊᴜꜱᴛ ᴡᴀɴᴛꜱ ʏᴏᴜ ᴛᴏ ʙᴇ ᴏᴋᴀʏ.
⎯୨⎯ " " ⎯୧⎯
It’s been so hard to get used to this type of life. Yeah, it’s been some time but damn, this shit is hard. You felt like you didn’t belong here no matter how much closer you and Isaac got, it just felt like you were out of place. And what about when you left? It didn’t feel like he wanted you to stay even if you wished he would. It was getting difficult for you to hide your feelings for him.
There was nothing left to do anymore. You finished any piece of work that came your way and now, you were left by yourself in your own company. It was peaceful but it felt overly lonely. That’s what you’ve been feeling lately, lonely. It was hard for you not to get all in your head when you were alone like this, especially at this time. Isaac was busy and there was nothing to distract you.
Why did this have to happen? You didn’t need a savior if things just went differently. It just felt like you were a burden on Isaac and you did not want to feel like that. Your eyes tear up at that. The thought that you were a burden on the only person you had, someone you really fucking like too.
Now, you’re sitting here bawling. It seemed so silly, like something you’d do if you were still a kid. Just crying about nonsense. But, it was your head getting to you. You were just glad Isaac didn’t see you like this. It would’ve been mildly embarrassing and you didn’t want to deal with that at all. You weren’t even sure if he was up at this time. You decided to go to bed as it was late and crying wasn’t going to fix anything, no matter how much you needed to.
︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵
“Y/N?”
Your door cracks and eventually glides open revealing a sleepy Isaac. He came in to check on you since you left your lamp on. He already knew you were asleep but something inclined him to just get closer and check.
“You awake?”
A hand glided across your face with gentle intent. It was a sweet, soft touch almost like a caress. His hand met and caught a tear from your closed eyes. “You’ve been crying… why…”
He focuses on your puffy red face. He wasn’t used to seeing this, not from you at least. All of a sudden, you feel the bed move a bit. When you lifted your head, there he was, draped on the bed next to you.
“Isaac, why are you in here?”
“The light was on and um, I was worried.”
“Aw, thank you for worrying but there’s nothing to worry about.”
You roll over, looking away from him. You knew he saw your face but you didn’t want to draw any more attention to it. You’d rather hide under a thousand heavy covers than let him see your face like this. It was embarrassing and you’ve already embarrassed yourself enough in front of him.
“Please look at me.” He says in a desperate tone. It was on the verge of an eager request with a slight whimper.
With that voice, damn, you wanted to. You wanted to do anything he asked if he asked in that tone.
“Why?”
“I want to look at you when I talk to you.”
You sigh and turn around seeing his face. His expression is full of concern and sympathy. It wasn’t a pitiful expression, no, it was so much kinder than that. Somehow, it was comforting.
“Y/N, why were you crying?”
“There’s just a lot going on in my head right now, don’t worry, Isaac.”
“Are– are you sure? I mean, I can sit here and listen to you talk about it if you want.”
That was sweet of him but you didn’t want him losing sleep. Not for something like this anyway.
“It’s okay. Go to sleep, Isaac.”
“Fine,” He stood up, “Goodnight, Y/N.”
-ˋˏ✄┈┈┈┈
i miss isaac so bad now i know how the andrew fans felt UGHSAHG
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Ship and HC what you want--but I hate Ravage & Soundwave parent-child headcanons so much. I'm finally gonna say it. They can be adult best friends rather than lovers, but the family thing makes my skin crawl. Here's why.
The following is just my personal opinion. Everyone who reads this is free to engage with it, but I don't want to fight about it, and I am not trying to make anyone give up their headcanons, whether those are romantic, sexy, familial, or just friendly.
(The Ravage I write in my fics and RP, like ES Ravage, prefers she/her pronouns. I am aware that Ravage uses he/him in other continuities.)
I am really freaking uncomfortable with most of the common familial headcanons about Soundwave and Ravage, Soundwave and his cassettes in general, and the whole cassette thing. And I will also die screaming before I tag erotic content between two fully sapient beings as "bestiality".
I would rather think of Ravage and Soundwave as bonded lovers (and the birds as her siblings) then think of Soundwave as either of the following:
An Abusive Father who sends his own children directly into the heat of battle out to fight as child soldiers; or
A Large Adult Son who allows his parent and her siblings to be mutilated so he can drag her off into places like mining colonies and war zones, where she ministers to his emotional needs while also fighting for him in the heat of battle, and has no life or relationships of her own.
Because no matter how many cat memes you draw, neither of those things is cute. You have the right to ship whatever you want to ship same as me, but I don't want to read either dynamic.
He is NOT the single father of the year if he's yeeting his children onto battlefields.
He is NOT a good son if his mother is telepathically linked to him, programmed so that he can yeet her out into battlefields in less than a second, and unable to have any romantic or QP partnerships of her own.
If he is her lover (conjunx) or her QPP (amica), and the meeting they had in Rodion was a meeting of two neurodivergent adults who learned how to help and support each other in dealing with their disabilities, and they both want to be together even in the depths of hell, then they have a much less horrific and unhealthy relationship.
I was once made to play IDW Ravage as not Soundwave's partner in a dreamwidth game because they didn't like the ship, and she was a miserable, unhappy person who had given up her entire life to serve Soundwave and Megatron.
This really solidified my feelings about not just why I think their relationship is romantic and adorable, but also why I think a parental relationship between them, going in either direction, is incredibly fucking gross.
Making them mutually interdependent neurodiverse adults with complementary support needs, who love each other in a mature way or even an 'adult' way changes the narrative.
If Ravage is Soundwave's life partner, then the forced cassettification has imposed a power differential on them, but it is significantly lessened by the fact that they were already together and interacting as grown-ass adults who loved each other before that took place.
In other scenarios, she's being thrown by her father up against mechs 4 times her size, OR she's a devoted parent who has been emotionally enslaved by cassettification and can't even have an adult relationship of her own because who the hell is going to want to be her partner knowing that she has an unbreakable telepathic link with her son? And you can't really say she's trading this emotional labour for protection when he's yeeting her out into the front lines every third episode.
IDK, I think glorifiying parents who send their children to war and enmeshed parenting that renders someone an appendage to their child is a lot less problematic than letting them meet as adults and learn how to help one another.
Every time I see someone draw humanformer Soundwave and Ravage as a collared pet, I want to scream, but I don't, because everyone has the right to write and draw what makes them happy.
My friends know NOT to send me links to art that diminishes Ravage.
Ravage may look like a cat, but she passes the Harkness test, and her entire arc in IDW was about getting people to respect her as an equal despite the thing where she looks like a cat.
Her brain and spark are equal to that of any other Cybertronian. It's not bestiality. There's no reason a telepath would care more about the shape of her body than the feel of her mind.
I would rather think that she's getting love and respect and hot overloads from Soundwave than think that she's selflessly devoted to him and to Megatron for all of her days until Tarn locks her into that fucking refrigerator. Or think that she's a child soldier.
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doodles of wife…. PLS SHES SO FCKING CUTE IM GOING TO DIE. I love her so much. almost cried while drawing these…. shes so <333
#orv#jung heewon#my art#I love her so much#WHY THE FUCK HAVE I NOT BEEN DRAWING HER SO MUCH BEFORE#I need to#also the fact that Somehow all these scenes turned into sanghee….#i couldn’t stop thinking abt sangah while drawing her. I need help#desperately want to draw sangah knitting jhw’s teared shirt she had like for ages#wait. does sangah know how to knit….#I think it would be v cute of her Not to know#also I cant even draw that which makes me sad because my skill level isn’t there#BUT OH WOW DO I WANT#what if I write it#but writing. urgh#anyways sob…..#them…
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its so weird to read some of my old fics (do NOT do it but i'm just being hypothetical rn) and reading it. like who even was this person?? i completely was in a haze back in 2020. i literally was posting 3 chapters a day. A DAY. what in the WORLD was that shit.
anyway i remembered some STUPID sappy shit and i didnt remember if i'd put it into a fic or not BUT I FOUND IT.
She and Hope had been dating in secret for months anyway, and any attempt to go talk to Ryan only filed her disposition of displeasure upon knowing that she couldn’t tell anyone, Molly especially, it destroyed herself mentally. They couldn’t really go anywhere near the school, always having to lie to everyone about having projects together when Molly wasn’t around them.
It’d consisted with 9 PM - 2 AM intervals of being able to actually see each other. Hope would sneak through her small bedroom window with a portable record player and whatever she had gotten from the vintage record store downtown, and Amy would always fall asleep around eleven because of her internal clock.
She would always wake up to find a single sticky note stuck on the edge of her desk whenever she woke up to her alarm the next morning.
One of them, Amy still had tucked inside of her phone case, a heavily detailed human heart, with blue and red ink sketched onto a neon pink sticky note, there was a caption that headed the small paper reading the phrase over every now and again makes her almost melt every time.
“You have my heart.”
yeah idk why the fuck but i thought of this fucking idea again today and i was like "omg did i ever put that heart note thing in a fic???" yeah you fucking did.
all that to say ME AND WHO???? imagine. thats so fucking.... RAHHHH.
#NOT TOH FANFIC#see this is why i write fanfic. to enact some gay ass shit like this.#the fucking STICKY NOTE WITH A DRAWING OF A HUMAN HEART AND SAYING “YOU HAVE MY HEART” I AM ON THE FLOOR.#*sighs* sucks i cant reuse it on lumity though.#my friend making me realize i actually have rizz but am just too much of a disaster to actually understand cues with people#its a MESS. im just all over the place. i literally ranted to THE SAME FRIEND yesterday (or the day before??) abt some girl jesus.#anyway i remember writing A LOT OF POETRY back in hs about this one girl and then the same girl i got to talk to--#--my first actual conversation with her i blurted out that i wanted to shave my head. she was like.... oooooo god i was A MESS#still slid into her school dms during covid and was like “haha guess what i actually mf did???” anyway all that to say underlying dysphoria#they're nonbinary now too and i kinda ghosted them like a complete idiot :(. its been two years or so but i still think of them... a lot...#actually i have more lore about this person and its like istg they actually really liked me but i could not pick it up.#we had such SUCH good chemistry and vibes. n they were really pretty. ughhhhhh.#anyway yeah idk crushes are weird sometimes. the universe knows how unstoppable id be with a partner#i feel like i was the reason they were able to find themself and their identity because when we were talking i always encouraged them#and told them to do what felt right. im glad they did. i think sometimes that brings me peace. like i served a purpose.#STILL showed them toh. STILL SHOWED THEM TOH.#we were talking about amity LMAO “this green haired girl seems interesting” SHE SO WAS.#...yeah i wish i could text them but i kinda probably fucked it up.#shitposting shit#idk what this post is i just wanted to talk about this dumb sticky note thing because im rotating it in my brain and remembering how#mentally ill i was back in 2020#talking into the void yk how it isssss
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Y’know, I was working on a drawing for an ask (the canon-fanon-my design ones, i AM working on them just very slowly) and I noticed for the first time the other day that in Lizzie’s intro animation she doesn’t have the spacebuns. Girl where are your EARS, somebody took them
#Kiri rambles#it is so strange to look at for me and I only realized why the other day. Where did the space buns go.#this was probably made before the space buns were a thing but STILL. Girl the TOOK your BEAR EARS#<- my Lizzie design does not actually have bear ears. But space buns remind me of bear ears so#lizzie ldshadowlady#I’ve also noticed that me regular Lizzie design has MUCH shorter hair than I usually see her draw with or what’s on her minecraft skin#I don;t even give her long hair. Her colon hair is just that fucking long#I’m sorry drawing things not based on vibe alone is making me think about creative decisions and the ones I’ve already made and it’s-#-driving me a little crazy. I’ve been thinking that short hair would look cool on her for a while now and it turns out I’ve already been-#-drawing it????? I guess I know my own character design preferences well????
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Hate, in Every Sense of the Word.
By: J
major tws for; suicide mention, domestic abuse, abuse, sexual assult mention, murder mention, (really just alot of violence tbh) self harm mention
uh, sorry? that theres so many tws, ig also minor tw for mention of sex too.
uh haha i uh, can you tell what happened tonight? it wasnt even the worst one, just, im tired of it.
talk abt living out of spite bc mannnn, thats all i been going off of for a good while now!
i uh, i really wanna make a certain food bc um. (LOOK I WANNA MAKW A LESS OILY FUCKER OKAY) but my father is awake meaning my mother will be too soon but im scared to even go out of my room bc theyre prob gonna fighttt.
hhhrbd okok ill shut up for now, go ahead and read the angry jirou bullshit ig 😭
(oh yea, if it wasn’t obvious. im talking about my mother in this.)
——————————
yknow,
you havent been a great person
or a good one even.
yet you still question as to why i dont love you
or like you,
maybe you have an idea of how much i hate you.
maybe not
i dont really care about your feelings.
at all.
not now.
i put up with this for fucking 14 years.
my entire fucking life.
ive put up with your shit.
but now?
now im done.
you have no idea how badly you fucked up.
when he said that “im sorry im a fuck up”
yknow.
he mightve not been right for what he did.
but,
it was just a mistake.
it was a goddamn mistake.
you have any idea how many times ive uttered those words too?
how many times ive repeated them?
how many times i fucking meant it?
just because you “had it bad” doesnt mean shit to me.
you have no goddamn right to treat others the same way.
dont give me that “i dont know how else to act!”
bullshit.
bullshit you dont.
you treated your damn boyfriend just fine!
you had a goddamn kid
you had two goddamn children.
with this man that you fucking DESPISE.
you knew it back then too.
you told me you did.
you fucking told me.
almost nothing can compare to the anger i feel to you right now.
nothing.
you have no right to act like that.
no.
you have no goddamn right to hit another fucking living being.
for such a simple mistake.
i dont care if he talked about it since friday.
i dont give a fuck if he talked about it for months.
you.
you as a goddamn human.
have no right.
none.
in the slighest.
to hit another living being.
for talking about something in your eyes “too much”
or making a mistake.
youre a hypocrite.
need i remind you?
you said that after you broke up with the man you were having an affair with.
that youd be a better person.
stop the fights.
stop the beatings.
stop all of it.
and everything would be okay!
.
i didn’t believe you for a goddamn millisecond.
youre a liar.
just how you said i was.
you didnt quit.
you didnt stop.
hell two months after you hit him again!
you threatened to kill him and yourself!
cmon.
dont you get it yet?
i fucking despise you.
maybe to a degree i feel shocked.
but.
i really dont think thats it.
youre the root of my problems.
every single last fucking one.
——————
need i remind you as how i had to learn to cook, because you were too busy with your damn boyfriend to help me?
.
need i remind you how when i tried to show you that i was fucking cutting myself when i was 9 you only talked about how it looked ugly?
.
need i remind you about how many times you said that you didnt care if i hurt myself as long as no one can see it?
.
need i remind you about how you ignored the rope burn on my neck god knows how many times?
.
need i remind you how you denied fucking multiple peoples sexual assault because “it couldntve been like that”?
.
need i remind you of how many times i almost had to be hospitalized because of your neglect?
.
need i remind you of how many nights i spent alone, in the cold, in the dead of winter, just because you wanted to fuck your boyfriend?
.
need i remind you of what you yelled at me so many times?
.
need i remind you of what i seen?
.
need i remind you of how many times you blamed your abusive behaviors on medication?
.
need i fucking remind you of my entire purpose?
.
i dont care about your feelings anymore.
i gave up years ago.
but now.
i dont feel just numb for you.
i hate you.
in every sense of the word.
.
i dont care of what you or anyone else thinks of me.
.
i dont care about what you think of my appearance.
.
i dont care if you think im too thin or fat or whatever word youll use next.
.
i dont care about what you think because you’ll hate me no matter what.
.
you thought id stop being xxxx when you broke up with him.
you yelled at me.
no.
you fucking screamed at me for weeks.
im tired of even putting in the slighest effort of acting as if i fucking care.
i dont give a fuck about you.
and yknow?
if.
no.
if it would work.
if it was possible.
id fucking kill you.
id stab you.
right here.
right now.
to end my suffering.
to end his suffering.
all of it.
id end it all.
i dont care if its wrong.
because i know no one else knows about whats going on.
yknow.
only one person around here knows what youve done to him and me.
and i havent even met her in person.
yknow.
the people i used to be close with from school.
only just learned you had an affair.
i know that.
the police are do-less.
since you know them.
and hes a man.
not a woman.
it wouldnt be taken seriously.
that he should just fight back.
yknow.
youve ruined what life he has left.
his parents beat him.
his ex wife beat him, and cheated on him.
and here.
youve done the exact same thing.
yknow.
he’ll never get to see how love truely is.
because of you.
because of what youve done.
i cant say i really like him either.
but.
that doesnt give you the right to ruin his life.
.
yknow whats worse?
how i know the only reason that so far youve never dared to lay a finger on me.
is because ive proved that i won’t hesitate to beat the fuck out of you right back.
i know i joke about that night.
but.
really.
hitting you for doing that was the best decision i couldve made.
its kept me safer than i wouldve been for years.
and even now.
if you were to as so much to touch me.
while in a fight.
id do it all over again.
you maybe 100 pounds heavier than me.
but you dont know how to fight against someone who wont just sit there and take it.
i wont forgive you for what youve done.
even if he will.
.
i want nothing to do with you.
get out of my life for good.
#j writes badly#woohoo i just love living in a very fucked up house its soo great /sarcasm#ughnf whats worse is that if it werent for my parents rn my life would be quiet literally perfect.#holy shit the being pissed at my mother instead of destroying my arm thing is actually working irl holy shit#(actually shoked abt that tbh)#unironically i wanna make a less oily fuck rn. like so badly. bc my parents went to the store and got eggs so i can#oh yea for the new gen folk that dont know all of the j lore (this has been bothering me bc its coming up on the anniversary)#i know how to break someones fingers and make it look like an accident!#turns out theres a specific way thats more common in abuse versus accidents!#dont ask why i know this 🙂 (or do- it reallt doesnt bother me) (also not that i would- /gen)#this is basically me catching everyone up through j lore im not even kidding tbh#and yes. i have hit my mother before bc she wouldnt stop “playing” as i had hot ramen in my hands!#(look. it wasnt the best move at the time but uh. really saved me in the long run unironically!)#THERES FUCKING GEESE FLYING OVER MY HOUSE RN HOLY SHIT#sorry. uh. i cant help it tho. i heard them and it was cute#oh yea even MORE j lore; i have a mildly unhealthy obsession with “being stronger” because im consitently (and rightfully)#paranoid that my mother is gonna try and hit me!#when the whole 2020 chrismas thing (when i hit her) happened i had just got done wih archery so i was still pretty strong#but then eating disorder happened and i quit archery. muscle atrophy etc etc#so like. its a big ass thing i think abt every day now!#yea theres a real reason why i consider my friends as “safe” 💀#heheheheeeeee when no where else is safe thats just life ig!#oh god i need to brush my teeth fuck.#hhvtbd but my mother is awake :(#HHGBHGBSNS i need to start doing that at an ealier time bc it keeps getting in the way of things#again. how the fuck does smth so simple as brushing my teeth make so much feel better 😭😭 its weird#sighh well! time to go back to trying to find drawing inspo!#(i unironically cannot use my own trauma as a drawing point bc it makes me actually suicidal. thats why i write it! /srs)#CHOKEKSSSJ ok ill hush now!
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mío | baby-fever!miguel o'hara x wifey!reader
❛ pairing | miguel o'hara x wifey!reader, starved prequel
❛ type | oneshot, explicit
❛ summary | after watching mayday, miguel develops a bad case of baby fever, longing for a family of his own.
❛ tags | explicit, miguel has baby fever, babysitting, talk of family planning and contraception, f!reader, breeding, pregnancy kink, much fluff, some angst, starved!reader, miguel being frustrated and cute, clean that kitchen, one stereotype of latina women, Spanish is not translated, best friend!peter, self edited.
❛ request fulfilled | could you possibly write an imagine in which Miguel and his wife take care of mayday? + multiple requests for more starved reader/miguel.
❛ sy's notes | written to fulfill some requests. i do have another daddy miguel blurb to fulfill, but my future works should be nice and angsty.
Peter has it out for him.
It’s the only logical reason why he’d do this shit to him.
Miguel stood in his dark room in a pair of scratchy jeans, dragging a belt loop to loop when he heard the door to his room draw open. A resonant schwap, schwap, schwap.
“Mi reina?” Miguel cocked his eyebrow up, extending his claws.
“¿Sí?” you called back from the bathroom, the distant scent of his favorite perfume wafting into the air. Miguel threw a look to the bathroom, reaching for the bedroom door. It burst open before he could open it.
“Hi, Miguel! Where’s your wife?”
Peter dragged his feet into the room, whirling around with a sloppily put-together backpack that leaked diapers onto the floor. An exasperated breath left his lips, dripping in the way he looked at Peter.
Unfortunately, his little wife liked Peter a bit too much for his taste.
“I should have known.” Miguel ran his hand through his hair, strands of mocha brown flyaways wisping along his tawny forehead. “Why are you here?”
His normally disheveled appearance was a little more disheveled. It wasn’t his appearance that bothered him but how it reached his eyes. Shocked, confused, tired. Peter pat his deltoid, awkward laughter choking in his throat. It bubbled on the edge of an overwhelmed sob.
“Well, you see, your wife said she’d watch Mayday because I have a date, and I haven’t had a date in a really, really long time. Like, a really long time—”
“Is Peter here?”
His head snapped to your bathroom where you came out, threading a golden hoop earring. You probably already knew the fight that was heading your way-- but for your part, you couldn’t be bothered to care any less.
“Got it, you need this date.” Miguel cut Peter off, standing behind you with his massive arms crossed. “¿Por qué no me dijiste?”
“¡Mi nena! Muévete Miguel,” you giggled, shoving your way past Miguel to Peter’s child carrier, sneaking your hands underneath her little armpits and whirling her around. She cackled, a glittering warmth to her mischievous eyes. You came to a stop, settling Mayday against your chest, nuzzling your foreheads together in some secret pact that the two of you shared.
Oh no, no, no, no. Not this. It hits him at once.
The sight of his wife— beautiful and cuddly with a very young baby in her arms. The only sight more beautiful was at the altar on his wedding day, your shy smile behind a sheer veil. It had been a long time, too long, since he had someone to call him father. He can still picture her glimmering eyes, the way she looked at him in nothing short of admiration, looking past the things that he’d done to see him and only him. Glimpsing at Mayday, remembering Gabriella’s soft, small face, it took him a moment to snap free.
He's so fucked.
“You would have said no, amado mío.”
You’re a natural at this, scooting by both men to set Mayday on the bed. Your tiny fingers spiraled out from her belly to change her diaper. Peter jittered uncomfortably, looking as though he wanted to jump in himself. You cleaned her, replacing the dirty diaper with a clean one. “We’re going to a market with Tío Miguel--”
“Don’t bring me into this.”
“Are you sure it's okay? I’ll be back at five, it's just a few hours, really--”
“¡Vete! A ratty house robe and a dirty spider suit aren’t sexy. Look at mi Miggy,” now you’re just buttering him up. He shifts his weight from one leg to the other, inspecting the ground. “Wear something nice.”
They’re sexy to her, he might have murmured. Not on a date, you bopped him. Mayday’s bright eyes tracked the space between you and Peter before you broke away to wash your hands. Peter’s clammy hands cupped Mayday’s sweet face, littering at least a dozen sickly daddy kisses over her tiny face. But Miguel what if--
“Adiós, Peter!” You returned to force Peter out of your room. Miguel peered at Mayday whose head snapped to the side, cheek against her fiery hair as the door clicked shut. He braced himself for the shrill that would inevitably come with her realization that her daddy was gone. She whined, grabbing her toes and tipping nearly off the side of the bed. Miguel begrudgingly hovered at her feet, blocking her from rolling off the bed. He could do this, he told himself, he could resist those giant baby eyes staring up at him.
He didn't need a baby, he didn't.
He blames Peter for having such a good baby.
She doesn’t ask for much other than requiring chest-to-chest contact with Miguel. It’s not that he doesn’t want to hold her, he finds himself aggravated by how much he likes to be around her. In a market full of things to look at food trinkets such as necklaces, body scrubs, and empanadas, it’s all her. Miguel props her up with an arm just under her bum, her tiny finger peeking curiously into his fangs. He snapped his teeth playfully at her, a nip, nip, nip, missing playfully every time. It rips ping a toothy grin across her face.
“No biting Miguelito,” you called out, sliding your fingers in a teasing ring around his muscled back to chest. You leaned up on your tippy toes, placing a small little kiss on his lips. You ran off to go get her a pineapple whip after her tiny fist yanked your hair over and over again. You relented, staring at what she was cooing at. Sweets-- obviously, sweets. All the little ones loved sweets.
“She likes it.”
“Ya sé,” you said, “But we don’t need anyone noticing you’ve grown fangs.”
“Tch,” he clicks his teeth in protest. She does too, throwing you a mean look for interrupting her fun. You plucked up a bit of the whip on your spoon, cutting through her displeasure through the power of sugar.
"There's a lot of people here, Miggy, let's go to the park." You point toward the park, pointing away from the mounds of fresh produce and locally sourced goods toward a healthy patch of green grass. Miguel is glad-- he’s sick of being stared at for his huge frame. Despite the ring on his finger, people still seem to try their luck. He couldn't be more disinterested.
You lay a picnic blanket as Miguel holds Mayday's treat. Mayday sprawls across his chest, trying to take just one more bite-- then another-- Miguel looks down, chin level, eyebrow raised. She offers a bit on her tiny index finger to Miguel. A peace offering. “She’s not going to wait.”
“Give her to me.” You kicked off your sandals on the edge of the blanket, dropping your things on another corner. You pluck Mayday from Miguel’s arms and set her down on the blanket in a way that is too easy. As though you wouldn’t have much of a learning curve in becoming a mother. No, no— you never mentioned anything about kids. Did you even want kids? He couldn't bring his heart to ask, to hope again.
“I didn’t know you were so experienced with kids.”
“Mami had six,” you noted, plopping down with the whip by Mayday’s side. She sat with a small slant, reaching out toward the sweet treat again with those chunky, adorable hands. You brought her into your lap, at last relenting. “When you’re the oldest, you have to learn a little something to help out. Can you imagine-- being pregnant six times? Ay no.”
“How many times do you want to be pregnant?” he blurts out. Usually timed and precise, the question causes him to pinch his brow as he sits beside you. “Si quieres,”
Your other hand comes on top of his and shifts it away from his face.
“As many as will make you happy.”
Shock. He chews on that response, his eyes glued to Mayday lapping at the last spoon of sweets you are willing to give her. She falls into a fit of complaints, a conniving look at the sweets, just as you lift her onto your shoulder.
"I never thought about it."
"No more, your papa won't forgive me if I bring you home all sugared up," you tsked your tongue at her. You patted along her back in small, tight circles until her angry huffs faded away. He reaches for the baby bag, slipping free a soft yellow blanket with white spiders strewn across the front. Miguel slides the blanket on top of Mayday’s small body, her groggy eyes sliding closed.
The more he watches you with Mayday, holding her so close, swaying as you held her, the deeper this ache burrowed in his chest. You would look beautiful all swollen with his child. Never mind Mayday or Peter, he can nearly see it, feel it under his fingers, the feeling of your taut belly under his skin, or the kick of tiny feet against his palm.
“We’ll see, Miggy.”
We’ll see-- the answer seems too noncommittal, too distant to be a satisfactory answer. With Mayday sound asleep, you settle her between your plush thighs. She expelled bursts of energy that milked her energy dry.
A little old woman passed by, her cane pierced soft grass as she moved closer with a bag of tomatoes and green beans. Her face, aged by time, pulls into a wide smile. He doesn't like her smile.
“You two are doing a great job. How old is she?”
You blink, looking up into the woman’s cool blue eyes, her dark hair peppered with thick grey and white strands. You tuck Mayday in her soft blanket, sparing the woman a kind smile that Miguel doesn’t quite have the patience for.
“Oh, oh. Thank you-- um, a couple of months,” you recount, perhaps thinking of Peter’s anxious pacing or his delighted shouts about becoming a father.
“Adopting is a great option. Back in the day, my husband was a bodybuilder too. Had a low sperm count don’t you know. Steroids shrink things. Oh, but these days you can do all sorts of things like IV--”
A what-- Miguel’s eyes nearly popped out of his skull at the suggestion. Was this old bitch’s suggestion that he couldn’t do it-- couldn’t get you pregnant? He could easily do that. If he wanted you pregnant, you would be shocking pregnant. He’d be damned if some old woman put it in your mind that he couldn’t.
“We’re babysitting for a friend,” he blurts out. “I have--” had, “a daughter.”
“Oh, do you? I’m sorry. I thought-- well, it doesn’t matter what I thought, have a good day."
She’s saying that, but it comes out slanted. You don’t bother correcting Miguel, not on this. Rather, your hand inched toward his, picking up on the energy that was pluming from his body in waves. Irritation-- annoyance-- the little old lady hobbles off. You’re in your mind well enough to bid her goodbye. But you know better than to say anything more, slumping your cheek on Miguel’s firm chest. It makes the ache of Gabriella's memory a little more bearable.
Low sperm count his ass.
It bothers him long after Mayday is gone. Peter, for his part, looks refreshed. He supposes that’s what happens with a full day of opportunity to empty your balls after weeks of no relief. It bothers him long after you come back from the kitchen, his favorite dark red slip plastered to your perfect body. It would look beautiful, full of his children— he just knows it.
“I may have hijacked the kitchen a little bit,” you teased, the waft of warm chicken and brewed spices filled his nose. He had no appetite. “But I made you some pollo guisado.”
“Hm,” he grunts into a pillow. “Later.”
Beside the bed, he has a bowl of brightly colored condoms. With your sensitivity to birth control, it is the best option available. It wasn’t, however, something he was ever happy about. He should be able to feel your body. Not once had he felt your body pure and unadulterated, warm and perfect for him. He was your husband. He wanted that moment— to fill you up just once, watch his cum dribble out of your cunt. It would be perfect. You set the food away, bowl and spoon clinking together.
“Miguel.”
Forget your warm body. This room is too quiet. It is almost stifling in its silence. Mayday’s sweet huffs, the memory of Gabriella’s laughter. A proper home full of a child's giggles. He’s going crazy-- he has to be-- this isn’t normal. This isn’t Miguel.
“Mi vida, don’t pout,” you reach out, rolling your fingers through his long brown hair. Your fingers tease along his scalp, turning around his ear. Your fingers tickle his lobe, your voice cemented in a concern that he wanted nothing more but to fix if it were anything other than this. “Miggy. Miggy, what is wrong? You look sad.”
“I’m not sad,” he says with a whine on his pillow. How silly he must look with his broad arms wound around the body pillow, squeezing its fluff for life. If he said the words well enough, you might believe them.
“I know you are,” you nudge the pillow loose. He takes you instead, the air thickening with the closeness. You fed off the tension, sliding your leg over the sheet that covers his naked hip. “Tell me why.”
He turns his hands over your thighs, traveling past your hips to ghost along your belly.
“Sí, Miggy?”
“I need…” he trailed off, finding the words nearly impossible to admit. They grow into a ball and cement in his throat, present but stubborn. Rather than break the words free, he swallows a bolus of desire and frustration. “It’s nothing. Let it go.”
The issue was— you loved him enough to let it do so.
Miguel doesn’t want to press the issue. He knows you. All you want is Miguel’s happiness. Sometimes, he worries it is at the price of your own. The distance he places between you and him is intolerable. It bothers him every time he finds you babysitting Mayday.
Today, while Peter goes on a small date, you and Mayday make his favorite empanadas. She’s covered in a dusting of flour from head to toe. Peter would have fun with that.
“Miggy you’re back?” you called as Mayday’s chubby hands shot out, nearly plopping off the counter if not for Miguel’s quick reflexes, setting her back in place.
“Empanadas?” he settles the words in a small kiss to your lips. You glance at him over your shoulder.
“It's... it's Gabi's birthday, isn't it?"
You’re too good for him. Despite the day coming and going, no one else notices his grief today. Not even Peter who came in alongside him, reading the room, and snatching up Mayday off the countertop. He’s babbling something, a thank you, see you later— you kiss Mayday with only the sweetness a mother could know.
“Peter! Mayday made these for you,” you reach out to a box of uncooked empanadas. “Take them home!”
Her first empanadas— the delight is palpable. Peter may have snapped a photo, or ten, of his little flour girl on the way out, empanadas in hand. Then there’s silence. Miguel returns the nearly forgotten bundle of empanada dough and filling to the fridge in the space of unspoken tension. Miguel dips down to your neck, caramelized perfume warm on your neck. His lips trace the warm pulse of your neck.
“Mami,” his voice mesmeric, warm like the filling you used to make him happy when no one else could. Your doting attention, even in the face of real issues like work and babies, was always on him.
"Sí, mi vida?"
His hands coast around your waist, using his strength to gently turn you around. It isn’t important right now. What is important is how he lifts you up onto the floury surface, purring his need into your slight ear. “I want a baby.”
“¿Qué?”
“Una niña,” Miguel leans his fingers along your collarbone.
“Oh, Miggy.” You puff the words. They come out almost wounded. You know him so well, the vulnerability of the words causing him to look down. Your warm palms cradle his cheeks, forcing him to look into your eyes. “You miss being a father, don't you?”
You’re not stupid. Neither is he. He thought he could wait— watch Mayday grow up and not feel this sundering longing. As though he could stomach never feeling a child in his arms again. The ghosts of the past that came with Mayday’s longing haunt him day by day.
You devour his insecurity, winding your legs around his waist and forcing him forward. He stumbles into your embrace, as though he were not a man who could decimate villains and spiders alike. When he was here, in your arms, he barely felt like the weapon of a man that he is.
“Miguel. Speak to me.”
“You’re right,” he can’t lie— can’t hide the longing that comes with the thought of his own child on his chest. Not Mayday, no matter how many times she cuddled up to his chest. At the end of the day, she would never be his. You drew your lip into your mouth, nipping it fat and red, a bob in your head. His heart beats faster, strumming as though it would break free from his chest. Whatever it is you’re thinking he’s not sure. Only that it’s been so long.
“I just want to make you happy, will this make you happy?” you nearly whisper, knowing that there’s no one but him to hear the words. It’s what he wants for you, too. As he stands there, coursing his fingers along your thighs and hiking your dress up your hips, he can’t help but feel the foggy discomfort of forcing you into parenthood before you were ready.
“It will.”
As well as it could. It would never erase Gabriella-- and, in the vulnerability of begging his wife for another child, came the guilt. Not only the guilt of failing to be a proper father or to protect her but moving on without her in his life to a beautiful family she would have loved. The feelings surge in his chest, a well of uncomfortable emotions in his eyes, threatening to fall.
“Miguel,” you’re whispering, your fingers cutting across his sharp cheekbones. You cup his face, drawing your lips together in a commanding kiss. You never liked being ignored or forgotten. He’s not sure how he could now, with your tongue flicking between his lips, begging him to come back with a sugary sweet whine. “Stay with me, Miguel.”
“I am,” he says, gripping either side of the counter by your hips. He feels your eyes on him, soft and careful, pressuring him to meet your gaze. He searches for an inkling of an answer in your gaze. "¿Qué piensas?"
“We can try,” you bite your lip, sliding it free between your teeth. “If you don’t have a low sperm count,” you tease. “Maybe it’ll take.”
“¡Por dios!” He throws a curse to the side as if he believed in such a being, throwing a look back at you. “You don’t actually believe that vieja.”
“Ay Miggy, of course not.” His lips work into a budding smile. You leaned up against his stubbly jaw, setting soft kisses there. Your lipstick stains his neck, dragging down to his prominent adam’s apple. He looks down at you with heady eyes, tracing the way you suckled a mark on his throat. He’d be lying if he said he didn’t like them a little more when others noticed them, little marks of possession. Miguel’s fingers come up to the straps of your dress, easing them over and down your slight shoulders. You pull back, words forming puff against his neck.
“Not right here,” you inhale a soft breath. “Someone could come in.”
Miguel eases his finger over the small bud of your breast, rolling his thumb along the silken skin, His hand comes up, encompassing your neck and shoving you back into the cabinets. It isn’t comfortable, not by far. He works the nub to its peak before turning his attention to the other. His mouth covers your breast, fangs grazing your nub as he suckled and tugged gently. Miggy, you pull him back up, stripped of your touch. Your hand slide across Miguel’s chest, tracing the taut muscles of his chest.
“Who would come in?”
“Peter,” you answer.
It’s always Peter. He supposes that you wouldn’t want your friend to see you here, cunt stuffed with Miguel on the very same counter you earlier made him empanadas on. Miguel snatched the dress that fell along your hips laxly, utilizing it to yank you off the counter. You fell forward into Miguel, a heavy wall of muscle, your lips failing to form anything of use. You looked at him, cheeks flush and eyes doting, he’s the only one you see.
“The balcony, then.”
“Dianche, Miguel! Do you want all of Nueva York to see me?”
“Maybe.”
No, but see Miguel breeding you? Undoubtedly yes.
He couldn’t simply choose the bed, that would be too easy. Miguel set a kiss on your forehead, soft and scratchy with his stubble. You return it by dragging him down for another kiss, a wave of warmth coming over him as you force your hips back onto him, rolling your hips against his, teasing him. Miguel doesn’t appreciate the tease and gently pushes on your hips, motioning you to face the counter.
“Bend over.”
"Can't we go to my room?" you complain but comply all the same. Miguel’s palm ghosts your spine, dragging his fingers smoothly over the middle of your back and past the dress that gathered around your hips, He strips you of the little cover the dress gave, eager to have you bare and rid of the thin clothing that served as a veil from prying eyes. Miguel can cover you from the prying eyes of others if necessary. Not that he cared if others saw him fucking-- he’s all the more eager to have you all to himself, here and now.
“No panties,” he notes, his warm hands on your inner thighs. “It’s almost like you knew.”
“I might have,” you return, spreading your legs obediently for him. He palms your vulva, your hips shifting down over his hand. Sticky and wet, he wonders if his need to breed you has rubbed off on you too. His fingers shift, sliding over your soft hole. “Apúrate Miguel, you’re so slow.”
“Can’t you be be good for once.”
You were always bossy. He likes it, most the time, being led around by what his pretty little wife wants. Today he wants to take his time, curving his broad fingers into your glistening cunt. Your wetness drips over his knuckles, fingers teasing the velvety soft walls he has never felt without a condom. A pleasured cry wracks in your chest, turning your head over your shoulder to watch Miguel’s fingers stretching you out. No matter how much your walls gave under his fingers, you would still ache when he penetrated you. It was the favourite part, the rich pull of his dick into your hole, bottoming out as best he could in your stomach. He soothes your complaints by grazing his other hand against your perky clitoral hood, finding the soft nub there for relief. You settle your arms on the floured surface.
“I never-- ah-- am,” you threw back.
Miguel slipped his fingers free, cupping your cunt with his palm for a teasing slap. You want to be good-- it’s just so hard, your cunt pulsing in the abswnce of his touch. He drags his sodden fingers to your lips, glazing them in taste of your lubricant. You suckle your tongue around his thick digits, savoring your own taste, his soft grunt of approval spurring you on. You feel like such a good girl with his fingers crooked in your mouth.
“Are you ready?” Miguel stands fully upright, dragging your hips to his. He’s hard as the counter you were pathetically clinging onto. His hipbones ground into your plush ass, dick pulsing in his immediate ache to feel your cunt. He backs up, fiddling with something at the waist. You don’t need to ask to know that it was his big cock grinding between your cheeks, smearing fluid over your slit.
“No condom?”
“No condom,” he affirms. You bow your head, nodding gently over the countertop. The head of his cock drove into your wetness, pushing past bundles of nerves. It’s impossibly different without the bag over his dick. It’s been so long. His world blinks out, savoring the feeling like he was an inexperienced teenager again.
“Carajo, you’re so good,” he finds himself cursing, leaning over your back.
“Now he says I’m good."
“Shh,” Miguel clips with a mean nip at your nape, lining it with soft kisses, encouraging you on to take him. Warm and wet, Miguel can only describe the slide into your cunt as untethered delight. Released from the bondage of his usual condom, he’s a mess against your soaked cunt, gripping you for a semblance of stability.
I just want to make you happy. For all your needy complaints and little quips, he knows you do. Otherwise he wouldn’t be here, with your hands cupped on top of his, squeezing for more closeness. Miguel laces your fingers together in a needy weave, drawing back to stroke his cock right back into your wet body. You lead one of his hands between your legs, urging him on to stroke your clit. Your walls clamp down on him, teasing out bursts of pleasure with how deeply he was buried. Miguel’s lips part into a whine of his name, skin slapping against skin. He sets a kiss in the crook of your neck, breath nearly unbearable.
“Mami,” he gasps, the word coming out between his unstable thrusts. Your eyes shut hard, sparks of pleasure winding and building in your core. “Give me a baby.”
“Sí papi,” you heave, “I”m trying to.”
Miguel knows what you like-- and you like him desperate. His voice so low and rich that you gush around his swollen length, falling apart below him. He catches your body from dropping in an instant, his thighs shaking as he works you through the fibers of gentle pleasure. Hot pressure builds low in his stomach.
“Qué bella eres. I’m going to finish, fill you and knock you up,” he whispers, drawing himself free and admiring the hazy space of pleasure and reality. Miguel turns you back to face him. You think you may complain-- you didn’t cum, or something of the sort. He shifts you to sit on the counter, spreading your vulva for inspection. Miguel spat on your cunt, rolling his fingers over the swollen folds to spread you apart. He slipped into the space between your shaking legs. You felt him thrust into your body hard and sharp. Your hands reached out, dragging Miguel’s shoulders forward, clinging onto his body.
It comes all at once, Miguel’s stuttering thrust forward, a deep groan filling the kitchen, his hand clasped onto your thigh so hard you know he’ll bruise it. You catch his moan in a kiss he doesn’t reciprocate, buried so deep in your body that all he can think to do is to force you to take all of it. He shakes himself free of the web of pleasure that he’s enveloped in, looking at you past the thin rivulets of sweat you wiped away with your loving thumbs.
“I think there are better positions for baby making,” you lean in, kissing him gently. He returns the kiss this time, eyes light of the strain and stress of the last few days. “Like… not this.”
Miguel pulls back, his soft cock slipping free from your warm entrance. Miguel watches as his seed dribbles from your hole, grunting in acknowledgement. He swipes your mixed fluids and rolls it between his fingers.
“I’m open to suggestions.”
He loves his wife. More than anything. What he doesn’t love is how Peter seems to know that you’re trying for a baby.
The thing about having a woman from his same cultura was this: you loved to talk with your best friend. Who, just so happened to be Peter. He doesn’t even have to say anything, just staring at him with a quirk on his lip and a terrible glitter in his eye after he’s resolved another meeting.
“Hey, Miguel.”
“Don’t start.”
He’s crowded with work at his desk-- he has no time for Mayday’s curious little eyes to glitter at him, Peter to be doing that shit he did when he wanted to be helpful. He offered his hands up, shrugging.
“I’m just saying! I’m a man, you’re a man,” he mumbles, inching a little closer and closer. “If you want a baby--”
“Let me guess. She told you.”
“Mayday could use a spider buddy,” he held Mayday up, out of her carrier. Miguel glanced down at her wild hair, exhaling air out of his nose with a little huff. “Sooner than later?”
“I’ve done it before,” Miguel throws back. “I know how to knock up my own wife, Peter. I don’t need help.”
Peter is offering help as if Miguel hadn’t tasted the changes in your body when he ate you out. Never mind that he saw you nauseated this morning, too sick to handle a call that Miguel promptly answered. He knew his seed had stuck-- you wouldn’t feel so miserable otherwise. It doesn’t matter, he’d answer them all if it meant another little one in his arms at the end of it all. Just so long as you and the baby were safe.
“Are you sure? I know--”
“I’m damn sure.” Miguel turned around, his head in his hand. “I’ve had enough of you. Why don’t you do something useful? Bring her something for her morning sickness.”
“Oh,” realization fell over Peter like a hammer, looking down to Mayday who looked right back up to her father. For all that Peter knew about his love life, he was shocked that you hadn’t told him how awful the smell of breakfast meat made you feel. His hand fell away, a film of pride slipping from his practiced features when Peter spoke. “But... She’s already pregnant?”
He leers. Peter scuttles away.
Privacy is important to Miguel. You knew the damn rule. No telling Peter about the inner workings of your bedroom. For that, you were going to fucking get it. You likely knew you were going to get it-- even if you were likely already pregnant.
He can’t wait.
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nobody understands how you did it.
how you managed to swept him off his feet, breaking the walls he had built pieces by pieces, how the fuck did you get him to be comfortable with you? to be open with you? and only with you.
‘never seen him this happy or loose in a long time, lass. what’s your trick, eh?’ the captain pulls a joke, making the rest of the team laugh. ‘i think I speak for everyone when i say, he never brings a girl out. let alone introducing her to us.’
that one is true. years of being friends with ghost, the captain nor his closest friend ‘soap’ has ever seen him out on a date. they encouraged him though, since there have been so many women tried their ways to get close with the big guy, yet none of them succeed.
the masked men would often just shrug them off and give one hard cold answer. they would back away immediately
“guess i just have my ways” is what you always say. even soap couldn’t register how it happened. he couldn’t figure it out himself, he knows the lad way longer than you do.
they don’t believe you. because there is no way in hell that all you did was to bat your lashes, show him your adorable giggle and he was in. there’s gotta be more to it.
so what is it about you that draws him close? what is it about you that makes ghost’s eyes light up each time you step into the room? what is it about you that makes ghost’s heart skip a beat every time he talks to you?
certainly not because how you’re so patient in getting to know with him, right? not because how you trace his scars ever so lightly and call them pretty every single time he’s doubtful about himself. not because how you console him with ‘I’ve got you, baby’ each night a nightmare comes back to haunt him while rubbing his back soothingly. not because how you shower him with soft, gentle kisses to remind him that your love for him is bigger than anyone could have offered. not because how you understand why he can’t say the three letter words to you, just yet. still, you stick around.
definitely not, right? there’s no way. he’s simon ghost riley. no one or nothing could ever be good enough to make this man come out of his shell. it’s impossible, right? you’ll need a miracle for that.
“love?” you hear a voice calls, along with the sound of keys being tossed into a ceramic bowl. heavy boots thumping against the marble floor,
you step out of the kitchen. long hair tied up into a messy updo, clear frame glasses perched on the bridge of your nose. dressed in one of his favorite sleeping gown as your eyes locked with his brown ones. the balaclava still attached to mask his handsome face.
scarred lips stretch into a smile the moment his beautiful fiancé emerges from the kitchen.
he drops his bag onto the floor, pulling the mask off of him slowly. revealing his disheveled blond hair as he takes slow steps towards you.
“hi, baby” your voice brings him home. no soul could ever take away from him. he longs for that angelic tone each time he gets deployed. three or six months without listening to you speak to him is just insanity.
he’d rather lose his hearing entirely than not having to hear you at all.
he’s quick to embrace you in his arms. your face hiding in the crook of his neck, inhaling that signature scent of his that you had missed, dearly.
“what are you making?” he mumbles into the crown of your hair, giving it a peck before pulling away slightly to take a good look at you. “it smells good”
“your favorite” you kiss his chin, causing his cheeks to redden at the affection. “i even bought those lumpias down the 112th street. i know how much you love them. pretzels bites from the deli for snacks aaand, black pepper beef with rice for your dinner. sounds good?”
simon leans against the doorway as he watches you plate everything. rambling about everything. his smile widens even more at your domestic antics. the way you talk with your hands as you mention another annoying co-worker that keeps bugging you and the way you roll your eyes when a splash of gravy spill from the plate.
truly is a sight.
“why are you looking at me like that?” your lips raise into a curious smile, finger moving a dark lock that sticks into your forehead,
he gives you a small shrug. gaze not leaving you neither does his smile.
“you’re just so beautiful”
something so simple yet it makes your stomach fills with butterflies.
you chew on your lower lip to prevent you from smiling too much, but a hint of blush is dusting your cheeks betrays you.
“come, papi… don’t want the food to get cold now, do we?” you change the subject while you nod your head towards the empty seat across. “eat with me”
the two of you sit there while making a small talk. stealing glances every second. feeding each other’s food. soft laughs fall upon both of your mouths when one make a terrible joke.
something you’d see when two people are in love. c
so yes, the answer to that question. it is possible. because you made it possible. you made it possible for him to love again. even if he had to start all over. you made it possible for him to be vulnerable. you gave him a purpose the moment he thought things were looking bad for him.
he found a solace within your existence.
only you made it possible to bring the simon in him.
vbecause you. are his home
#simon riley x reader#simon riley fluff#simon riley x female reader#simon ghost riley x reader#simon ghost riley
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you love it when i play with you
ellie williams x fem! reader
summary; you play with your gf, who needs you. a couple of texts would have her on your bed, and you, a mess.
cw; +18 content! minors dni!, sexting, teasing, strap on usage (r receiving), strap sucking, throat fucking, mentions of smoking (ellie’s high), choking, hair pulling, so much tension, dirty talking, reader being a tease, ellie showing her her place, tit and nipple play, multiple positions (one of them being riding), multiple orgasms, begging, praise kink, praising, no use of y/n…
a/n; i reached the 10 picture maximum so sorry for the messages change :(🎀
it was a calm saturday afternoon, rain pouring down in mid october as you sat on your bed, a book in between your hands as you read, listening to the soft music blasting through your speakers.
though your attention quickly drifted at the sound of a new notification coming from your phone. it was a message. from your girlfriend.
you smiled, leaving your book aside to take your phone in between your hands and unlock it to read it.
you bit down on your lip, your eyebrows rising at the message. you quickly typed an answer.
you patiently waited as you saw the bubble of writing appear, the phone in between your hands buzzing with the entry of a new message.
you felt your belly warm up, your pussy throb. even more when she attached a image to this messages.
you flushed, thighs pushing together. you knew what she was doing. and you knew how to play this game.
you smirked. ellie’s reddish eyes were feeling heavier at the sight of your beautiful tits. you were wearing her favorite camisole.
she sighed, lips wetting her lips. she wanted them on her mouth.
ellie groaned, her hand cupping her clothed cunt, which was tingling and throbbing, starting to soak up her boxers.
ellie swore her heart must have stopped. her hand pushing inside her boxers, fingers diving in between her slick folds, sighing at the feeling. she was indeed so wet.
you noticed the message had been read but she wasn’t answering, so you decided to push on her buttons just a little bit more.
are you wet, ellie?
ellie bit down on her lip, her fingers drawing soft circles on her clit.
you know i am, baby
now, why don’t you let me see you, hm?
you blushed, biting down on your lip before pulling down on your camisole to free your breasts and snap a picture, your hardened pretty nipples showing for your girlfriend.
new photo attached
ellie was getting dressed as soon as she opened it, getting ready as quickly as possible to pull up her legs her jeans and put on her old dirty black converse. she squirmed at the feeling of the wet patch in between her thighs as she walked towards the door.
omw
she typed with one hand as she grabbed the keys of her car.
you shook your head, slightly giggling as you got up from your bed, going towards your vanity to put on some lipgloss and perfume. you looked at yourself on the reflection and smiled. ellie didn’t live very far, so by the time you were done she was pulling at your door, using the key you had gifted her to get inside, running upstairs to your room, where you awaited her on your knees, sitting in the bed.
she groaned when she saw you, feeling dizzy. “you look like a fucking angel.” your doe pretty eyes looked up at her as she approached you, breathing heavy and pupils dilated. you could tell she had been smoking, maybe that’s why she’d gotten so horny. ellie always got horny while high. her cold hand took a grip of your chin, leaning down, her lips brushing your shiny ones. the same lips that had kissed every single crevice of your body. “i wanna ruin you.” you smiled against her lips, that angelical smile that couldn’t deceive her anymore.
“yeah?” you inquired her, and she chuckled, the hand on your chin coming down onto your neck, squeezing. she loved it when you’d taunt her. it only made her hungrier. you left a soft breath against her mouth, a silent moan at the feeling of her hand slightly cutting off your blood flow, making you feel dizzy. the tension could be cut with a knife. it only made you wetter.
“you have a lot to say today, don’t you?” she inquired. “teasing me through texts…, teasing me with a hand around your neck... you make it seem as if i couldn’t fuck the attitude right outta you, baby. is that what you want? want me to fuck some sense into that pretty little head of yours, hm? want me to help you remember your place?” she squeezed tighter, and this time, you whimpered. “i think you do.” she muttered, right against your ear, shivers running down your spine and goosebumps rising on your skin. her lips slightly traced your cheek, all the way back to your lips. “now say please.”
“please.” you breathed out, feeling your cunt throb under her green eyes.
“good girl.” she smirked, pulling away from you, making you whimper. she hushed you. “shh, it’s okay baby. i’m just gonna give that pretty little mouth of yours something to be busy with.” your eyes fell to her hands, which were unzipping her jeans. you hadn’t noticed the bulge underneath the denim, underneath her boxers. your mouth watered. you watched as she got rid of her clothes, leaving herself on just her white wife-beater, perky nipples showing and poking through. her strap was laying low on her hips, 7 inches of silicone, detailed with veins. you were drooling. she noticed. “open.” she ordered, the tip against your lips, and you followed, parting them not before leaving a kitten lick to the tip, making her grunt. “fucking tease.” you smirked, although you were gagging soon enough for it to disappear. “just needed to get that smirk fucked out of your face, hm?” one of her hands laced on your hair, and you moaned around the strap, taking it as deep as you could. “that’s it. take that cock.” she sighed, watching as your pretty eyes looked up at her, springing with tears, your lips around her dick as you bobbed your head. she swore she could feel it. “let me see your boobs, baby.” she said, and you pulled down your camisole, letting your tits show. she groaned. “that’s it. go ahead and touch them for me. give me a show, doll.” your hands cupped them, fingers pinching your nipples for them to swell. you moaned, and ellie’s hips thrusted in your mouth, making you gag. you tried to breath through your nose, closing your eyes as you relaxed your throat for her to fuck. “that’s it baby, open up for me.” she then slowly started to go deeper, until your lips were hitting the base of the strap and drool was trailing down your chin and neck. “look at you. so fucking messy… atta girl. deep and sloppy. just how i like it.” you whimpered, her thrusts getting harsher. you were sure your voice would be fucked up tomorrow morning. “fuck.” you gasped for air when she pulled back, cock plopping out of your lips, spit connecting you to the silicone. her thumb caressed your bottom lip, pulling from it to push inside your mouth. you suckled on it, your tongue playing with it. she bit down on her own, and before you knew it she was on top of you, and her tongue was inside your mouth. you moaned, thighs spreading open for her to get in between them, your hands on her hair. tugging and making her groan. “i’m so fucking horny right now, you have no idea. you drive me fucking crazy.” your back arched as her hands cupped your breasts. “best fucking tits ever. can’t wait to see them bouncing as you ride my dick, baby. you’re gonna look so pretty dicked down, all full of me.” you whined, her lips on your nipples, sucking and kissing, and bruising your skin.
“ellie…” you moaned her name.
“get this off.” she groaned, pulling from your camisole up your body, throwing it aside to find you completely bare underneath her. “fuck, baby.” her eyes fell to your soaked cunt.
“they’d just get on the way.” you muttered, cheeks flushed and lips swollen. your hair was a mess, and your eyes were glazed over. you looked like a fucking wet dream.
“so fucking needy…” you screamed when her fingers dived in between your slick folds, fingertips soaking wet. “look at her, she’s so ready for me…” she smirked, circling your clit before pushing one of her fingers inside, letting out lewd squelches every time she’d push it in and out of your cunt. “you hear that? she’s begging for it.”
“fuck.” you moaned as she added her ring finger, curling them to hit your g spot.
“right there, huh?“
“ellie please, need your cock…”
“be patient baby, gotta open you up on my fingers first, don’t want it to hurt.”
“i do. i want it to hurt.” you whispered against her lips, and something crossed through her eyes.
“yeah? want it to hurt baby? want me to split you open with my cock?” you nodded, your back arching as she fucked you with her fingers harder, deeper. “of course you do. you want nothing more than to be a little fuck doll, don’t you? wanna go dumb on my dick. want me to fuck you stupid, hm?”
“yes please ellie, please…” she groaned, pulling her fingers out of you to grab the strap and dip it’s tip in between your folds. it was already lubed up with your spit. you shivered, whimpering as your hips pushed against it, needing more.
“what a good girl. asking for it so nicely. i might as well just give it to you, huh?” your eyes rolled to the back of your head when she suddenly trusted inside, stretching you out ‘till you felt her in your gut. you were breathless… it hurt, but it hurt so good. “thaat’s it. nice and deep.” she swore she could feel it, the way you were clenching around the silicone as she slowly pulled back, watching your lips engulfing the strap. “fuck baby, so tight…” it was as if you didn’t want to let her go, swallowing her inside. “you’re gonna milk my cock dry.” you moaned when she pushed back inside, the tip hitting your g spot.
your legs surrounded her waist, nails digging on her back, pulling at her shirt to completely undress her. you two were now a tangled naked mess, hips thrusting against the other, moans and grunts filling the room. you two were needy for each other, desperate. she was fucking into you faster now, lips on your neck, on your chest, hands playing with your nipples, fondling your breasts. you were a disaster of moans and ‘more, ellie more’s.
“so good, oh fuck baby. so good for me.” she groaned, the back of the strap rubbing her clit in just the perfect way. “my pretty girl just needed me to fuck her dumh, huh? i can do that. gonna make this pussy feel so good it’ll cry for me.” you whimpered, feeling your orgasm approaching with each harsh thrust, they reached and hit your g spot perfectly. she always fucked you so good.
“ellie, fuck, just like that, shit!” you were a babbling mess, tripping over your words as your back arched.
the room was filling up with the lewd sounds your pussy made fitting her cock inside you. you were so wet it was pooling and making a mess of your sheets.
“just take it baby. be a good girl and take my cock.” she grunted.
“i’m cumming. i’m gonna cum!” you cried out, and her fingers moved to rub on your clit fast and harsh circles to push you closer to your release.
“that’s it. cum for me.” you screamed as it hit you, ellie desperately fucking you to extend it. your moans being cut off by each harsh thrust. “fuck yeah. scream for me doll.”
“ellie!” your back arched, your thighs shaking.
“atta girl. cream my cock baby. give it to me.”
once you came down from it, she was kissing your neck, sucking bruises that you’d proudly wear tomorrow. you moaned, hands on her hair as she slowly stopped her thrusts, groaning. oh fuck she had been so close… her clit was throbbing.
you tugged from her hair when you felt her rock against you, the tip of the strap kissing your g spot, making you whimper.
“give me one more.” she begged. “just one more, baby.” you moaned, nodding, and before you knew it she was back at fucking you.
but you wanted to please her. “let me…” you breathed out, and soon enough ellie was on her back, you straddling her with her cock deep inside your cunt. she watched as you begun to rock her hips, the back of the strap bumping against her clit, easily sliding in between her beyond soaked folds.
“oh fuck.” she moaned, her hands finding your ass to guide your movements. “just like that. fuck me. fuck my cock.” you whined, hands on her abdomen to brace yourself.
“so deep… you’re so deep.” you whimpered. her eyes were on your tits, how they bounced with every roll of your hips, with every jump. she groaned. you looked like a fucking angel, and she was so close… you could feel it too, the high of another orgasm approaching, still sensitive due to your first one.
“pussy so good… she’s swallowing me right up, huh? she loves it. loves my cock.” she babbled, far too gone to think straight.
“ellie, i’m gonna cum…” you moaned, and her hands came up to your breasts, pinching your nipples. your clit was rubbing against the base of her strap.
“yeah? gonna cum again, doll? gonna give me another one?” you nodded. “of course you are, such a good girl for me. come on honey. let me see you fall apart.” it didn’t take long before you were screaming, creaming all over her cock. your cum was in a white ring on its base. at the sight ellie couldn’t help but follow, moaning and whimpering as she came, guiding your hips once again to fuck the two of you through it. “fuckfuckfuck…”
after that ellie had you suck clean her cock.
and maybe her pussy too.
#ellie x you#ellie x y/n#ellie williams x you#ellie x fem reader#ellie williams x reader#ellie x reader#ellie williams smut#tlou ellie#ellie the last of us#ellie tlou#ellie williams#ellie williams fic#ellie williams tlou2#ellie williams fluff#ellie williams imagine#ellie williams fanfiction#ellie williams tlou#ellie williams the last of us#tlou#tlou fanfiction#tlou fic#tlou imagine#tlou smut#tlou fluff#tlou2#tlou x reader
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Can you do reader ignoring stepbro rafe and he gets mad so he sneaks in readers room and eats her out until shes crying and begging for him to stop! Love ur fics💗💗
Silent Treatment
mean!stepbro!Rafe Cameron x reader
Warnings: noncon/forced sex, incest (step siblings), oral, fingering, forced orgasm, jealousy, controlling behavior, smut
After an excruciating family dinner where you seemed happy to speak with any other family member but him, Rafe glared at you when you were the first to excuse yourself from the table.
He rolled his eyes when he heard your door slam upstairs, but chose not to comment on it in front of Ward, Rose, Sarah, or Wheezie. If they noticed his reaction, they didn’t say anything.
Although they would have definitely noticed how little you had been speaking to Rafe, completely snubbing him at his every attempt to strike conversation with you.
Normally the two of you would be attached at the hip, and only Rafe knew why you were acting differently now.
The blond had chased off another guy that you had been talking to, insisting to you that he wasn’t any good for you, and that he didn’t deserve to date “Rafe Cameron’s little sister.”
You both knew the real reason behind his actions though.
Rafe waited several minutes before excusing himself and then casually walking up the stairs and approaching your door.
He didn’t even bother knocking, twisting the handle and opening the door to let himself in before shutting it quietly behind him.
At the noise, you sat up in bed, and glared at him.
“Leave me alone.” Your voice was curt and resolved, but Rafe didn’t really want to listen to you right now.
“C’mon Y/N, are you really going to do this right now? This silent treatment shit is getting old fast.” When your older step brother sat on the side of your bed, you tensed, scooting yourself away from him a bit.
“I already told you, I don’t want to talk to you right now.” You snapped at him. “You threatened Tyler to get him to stop talking to me!”
Rafe shook his head, his jaw clenching in frustration when he looked at you. He stared at you in silence before chuckling darkly.
“God, you’re such a cunt sometimes, Y/N, you know that?”
You reeled back at his words, jaw dropping in disbelief at his insult.
“Fuck you, Rafe,” you cursed under your breath and you were surprised when his fingers clamped down on your chin, forcing you to look at him.
“Oh yeah? Maybe I will.” His words shocked you, but not as much as the dead serious look on his face. “Maybe that would teach you to not be such an uptight bitch.”
You tried to grasp at his wrist but he swatted your hand away before sliding his hand around your throat and forcing you onto your back.
“Rafe-” you struggled against him when he straddled you, and when he reared his hand back like he was ready to slap you across the face, you tensed up, finally stilling beneath him and looking up at your older step brother with fear in your eyes.
“Relax, I wasn’t going to hit you, sweetheart,” you weren’t sure whether his raspy words were meant to be a comfort or a threat.
You couldn’t speak, too shocked and frightened by his actions to create a sound. All you could do was blink the tears from your shiny eyes.
“What? Nothing to say now, huh?” Rafe mocked you, drawing closer. His breath was hot on your face and his large hand at your throat kept you pinned in place.
You defiantly kept your mouth shut, although you didn’t think you could have made a sound even if you wanted to with Rafe’s fingers starting to crush your throat.
Your silence was short lived however, because you gasped when you felt Rafe’s other hand gently ghost over your clothed core. You jerked away from his touch, but the hand at your throat held you firmly in place.
He shifted on top of you, crawling lower and finally releasing his hold on your neck. Your attempts to shove him off of you were futile, and when his big hands began pawing at your shorts and kneading the soft skin of your thighs, you felt your stomach drop.
“Get the hell off of me!”
He ignored you, unbuttoning your shorts, only unzipping them part of the way before just tugging them down your legs and discarding them behind him. Your heart was beating hard in your ears, and the sound of your rushing pulse made you feel dizzy.
He eyed your lacy pink panties for just a moment before pulling them down, ripping them when you kicked your legs out trying to stop him.
“What the fuck are you doing?” You hissed quietly, too confused and embarrassed to be loud enough to attract the attention of your family.
He didn’t respond, but you got your answer when he spread your legs, which you were desperately trying to squeeze together, and buried his tongue into your pussy.
You weren’t sure if the noise you let out was a cry or a moan, but either way, it was loud. Disgust and pleasure sinfully mingled together in your gut when Rafe’s tongue teased your clit.
With his strong arms wrapped around your legs, you had nowhere to go. When you squirmed in his arms, his tongue just licked at you more hungrily, shooting sparks of ecstasy through your entire body.
Your step brother devoured your silky cunt, savoring the sweet flavors of your unwanted arousal like it was nectar from the gods. The sound of your soft cries of protests mixed with involuntary moans of pleasure made him harder than he had ever gotten by just fantasizing about this moment.
“Rafe please!” You begged him, panting as he messily lapped at your tender clit. His harsh grip on your soft thighs tightened, and you winced at the feeling of his fingers digging into your skin.
When you felt the tip of his finger slide along your dripping folds, you bucked your hips in surprise, trying again to free yourself from his grasp.
His blue eyes glanced up, taking in your disheveled form. Your chest was rising and falling unevenly and Rafe watched your face as he slowly pushed his index finger into your tight heat.
Your eyebrows shot up in shock and you bit your lip, trying to stifle the gasp that escaped at the feeling of your older brother sliding his ringed finger along your walls. Every flick of his tongue against your clit had you tensing and tightening around his finger and Rafe’s moans vibrated against your soaked pussy.
“P-please stop,” you whimpered, tears beginning to prick at your eyes and overflow past your lashes.
“Not ‘til you apologize, princess,” he mumbled in between sucking at your clit and curling his finger inside your quivering walls. He slowly slid in a second finger, stretching you out even further and earning a strained gasp that made his cock twitch. Rafe had fantasized about this moment so many times before, but seeing your perfect face and hearing you moan and whine as he fucked you with his fingers and lapped at your clit was better than anything he could have ever imagined.
Your head was in the clouds, horribly confused by your conflicting feelings of disgust and desperate want. It was wrong for so many reasons, but maybe that fact was why you were so close to being pushed over the brink.
“I’m sorry, Rafe! Okay? Fuck- Please, mm- I’m sorry, I’m sorry!” You breathlessly begged him. Your eyes were squeezed shut, but your tears were still flowing down your cheeks in a steady stream.
“Look at me, Y/N,” he ordered. Rafe was fucking you with his fingers harder now, the feeling of his ring dragging along your walls was making you see stars behind your eyelids. His thumb circled your clit with just the right amount of pressure to keep you right on the edge of finishing.
You reluctantly cracked your eyes, meeting Rafe’s intense gaze with heavy lidded eyes that you could barely keep open.
“Apologize to your big brother like you fucking mean it.” His grin was triumphant and mocking, and he allowed his eyes to trace over every part of you, taking in how much of a pathetic mess he had made of you.
“I’m sorry, Rafe! I’m sorry, I’ll never ignore you again. I was just being stupid. Ple- mm please stop.” You pleaded with him, tears and hiccups interrupting your words. You had never felt so much humiliation in your entire life.
“Fuck, Y/N,” he groaned, not stopping his movements at all. “You’re just too cute for your own good, baby.”
“What-?”
Your question was cut off with a moan when he resumed working your clit with his tongue. He lapped and licked at the tender flesh like a man starved and when he slide a third finger into your tight cunt, the band inside of you finally snapped.
“Rafe!” You loudly whined as you came, legs quivering as he continued fucking you through your high.
“Aw, there’s my good girl,” he cooed, drinking in your beautiful face and enjoying the feeling of your cunt clinging to his fingers and pulsing around them. Your pink, puffy tear stained eyes fearfully met his eyes and you sniffed sadly.
“That wasn’t so bad, was it, Y/N?” He smirked at you when he pulled his fingers from your sore, weeping pussy and slid them past his lips, savoring the flavor of your arousal.
“Mm, tastes like you enjoyed yourself,” Rafe chuckled darkly. “So quit your fucking crying. Just makes me want to choke you with my dick till you shut up.”
#silent treatment#rafe cameron#dark!rafe cameron#outer banks#rafe cameron noncon#stepbro!rafe cameron#stepbro!rafe#dark rafe cameron#rafe cameron x reader#rafe cameron smut#rafe cameron fanfic
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(vent)
when I had maladaptive daydreaming issues, I’d wake up in the morning daydreaming, I’d think about my characters all morning and work on my story playlists, and it wouldn’t stop when I got to school, it was just being one (and sometimes two) foot in my head at all times. I’d go to the kitchen and get stuck pacing lost in my head and wouldn’t eat. I’d lay awake in bed for hours thinking about them. My biggest core hobby was art and I only learned it to draw the characters from my daydreams. I had a serious problem, and I miss it so, so much.
#Fuck man. I miss being in love with something so dearly#I feel empty without it. I have friends now and I get to sleep most nights and I can eat breakfast most mornings#my mental health is better I have new interests and I know myself better! So why do I miss it so bad#I feel like I’ve been locked out of my own home. I loved loved loved my daydreams so much. They were my life my genuine whole life#and I overcame it and I just wish I could have it back sometimes.#I was wrapped in so many layers of dissociation and it wasn’t healthy for me physically or mentally but I was genuinely so happy before#The depression. The daydreaming was a major factor in the depression#It’s not like I don’t daydream at all anymore but it just keeps getting harder and I hate it so much#I miss Hunters223. I miss prodigy and the neighborhood and unspeakable#and peck. God I miss peck aha he used to make me so happy so so happy#My little shining light during depression.#Generations is like a tiny ripple left on my life compared to that glory it used to always hold. I miss the passion so badly#vent#Jay still loves tolverse. Her heart is still in it and it gives me some feeling back to draw things for tolverse knowing how much she’ll#love them.#I’m probably being over dramatic and will get back some daydreaming joy soon enough. Or I won’t.#it’s hard. I spent so long getting good at art only to have to ease up on the daydreams that fueled it for my own wellbeing.#I want to still love art. I still like it but it’s not the same#I have guitar and my friends and school and sort of reading and writing (though that’s more of willows thing I just kind of watch and chime#in on occasion)#It’s 4 am and I haven’t sleep and I didn’t get my antidepressants today (or well yesterday) so don’t worry too much I’m probs just#over emotional but boy howdy. Shit hurts.#Lets not even mention the old life plan. I don’t know if a single thing I wanted to make is going to happen and that’s. Ouch#This is ok to reply to and stuff.
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𝐰𝐡𝐨 𝐭𝐨𝐥𝐝 𝐡𝐢𝐦 𝐭𝐨 𝐠𝐞𝐭 “𝐣𝐚𝐜𝐤”𝐞𝐝 - 𝐨𝐩. 𝟖𝟏
𝘀𝘂𝗺𝗺𝗮𝗿𝘆: oscar’s girlfriend is feral on main.
𝗰𝗼𝗻𝘁𝗲𝗻𝘁 𝘄𝗮𝗿𝗻𝗶𝗻𝗴: crack. this is a shitpost, you have been warned. uh this is completely unrealistic, it’s pure vibes okay. this is not an accurate representation of those mentioned.
𝗽𝗮𝗶𝗿𝗶𝗻𝗴: oscar piastri x fem!black!reader
𝗴𝗲𝗻𝗿𝗲: smau.
𝗽𝗿𝗲𝗳𝗮𝗰𝗲: i wouldn’t consider myself an oscar girlie but then,,, i opened tumblr and saw the photos of oscar from when he went karting and um…now have another op 81 mess of a smau! this is completely unserious and it’s inspired by the nefarious actions i would do to oscar’s biceps. inspired by @dwarvenchords and @hookhausenschips ‘s reblog lol. it’s short but, enjoy, loves xxx.
insp. 1 | insp. 2 | taglist | feedback & requests | table of contents ↻
instagram
yninstagram • february 28th
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oscarpiastri: love…you couldn’t even save this for the close friends stories? you had to post it on main
yninstagram: did you like my joke? oscar “jack”ed piastri LOL im so clever
oscarpiastri: ijbol 😐
yninstagram: i’d be pressed but ur muscles are distracting me
oscarpiastri: u should cmere and give them a kiss :)
lilymhe: he let u tie a bow around his bicep?!!! omfg i have to do this with alex
yninstagram: i don’t think alex has enough muscles to meet the requirement for the bow :/
landonorris: he’s such a simp
landonorris: i would never let my girlfriend tie a bow on me 🥱
yninstagram: step 1: have a girlfriend
logansargeant: your freak out on twitter had a slight mentally-ill aura
yninstagram: shut the fuck up and get on a podium before you talk to me
yninstagram: gangly bitch + not funny didn’t laugh + L
instagram
yninstagram • february 28th • in between my boyfriends tiddies ⚑
liked by, oscarpiastri, mclaren, logansargeant, markwebber, and 1,223,458 others
yninstagram: things to do with your boyfriends muscles; listed in the comments below (a huge thanks to the toto user on twt for FINALLY sending me the photo)
tagged oscarpiastri
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yninstagram 1. tie a bow around them (completed)
➥ user thx for sharing the photo
➥ user FUCK! I CAN’T FIND A PIECE OF PAPER TO WRITE THIS ON
yninstagram 2. kiss them (completed)
➥ user awh how cute! going to nap on the interstate rq
➥ user wait for me!
➥ user omg slumberpartyyyyy
yninstagram 3. touch them (completed)
➥ markwebber there’s a time i thought you were a normal girl
➥ yninstagram who told you to think that??
user i know those arms are rock solid 🥴🤤
user i’m the toto user on twitter !!! she did not kill me y’all !!!
➥ user u were flirting with death babes
➥ user i would not have admitted to this under her post
➥ user you should seek witness protection 🙏🏾
yninstagram 4. have him suffocate you with them (he said no)
➥ oscarpiastri WHY DID YOU INCLUDE THIS ONE
➥ logansargeant i think you’re proving the mentally-ill part y/n
➥ yninstagram u sound jealous logan
➥ user personally, i think if you didn’t want her to say that, you shouldn’t have muscles @/oscarpiastri
➥ oscarpiastri oh! yeah! why didn’t i think of that—lemme just take them off rq 😐 WTH
yninstagram 5. wall sex (?)
➥ oscarpiastri i specifically said not to say #4 and #5 in public
➥ user the question mark is SENDING MEEEEE
➥ yninstagram i mean, i can tell you that he didn’t say no to this one 😈 @/user
➥ landonorris i did not want to see this when i opened ig
➥ yninstagram do us all a favor then and delete ur account x
➥ oscarpiastri what she said^
➥ landonorris :o -> :(
yninstagram 6. draw on them (in progress)
➥ user wait this one is actually cute 🤭
➥ oscarpiastri watching the pure concentration on her face is adorable
➥ user omg she’s so 👉🏼👈🏼 coded
➥ oscarpiastri it tickles lol
➥ yninstagram ur moving around too much
➥ yninstagram might have to tie you to the headboard 😏
➥ user and she’s back on her bs
yninstagram 7. watch him flex for you (ongoing indefinitely)
➥ mclaren do we have your permission to post oscar thirst traps now?
➥ yninstagram i’m sure we could work out something mutually beneficial
oscarpiastri • february 28th • my girl’s basement ⚑
liked by yninstagram, danielricciardo, logansargeant, landonorris, and 1,478,539 others
oscarpiastri she knocked out on my chest halfway through drawing on me. didn’t know this was part of the boyfriend job description, felt like there was some false adverting. overall: 12/10 experience, will be doing this again.
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danielricciardo didn’t know where this was going for a sec but fuck you guys are so cute 🥹
➥ oscarpiastri thank you? i guess
➥ user oh to have my relationship praised by danny ric
➥ user girl ur man responds to your texts two days late
➥ user DAMN u didn’t have to air out my business like thatttt
user WHAT DID SHE USE TO DRAW ON YOU OSCAR??? HELP A GIRL OUT
➥ oscarpiastri its liquid eyeliner 🫡
➥ oscarpiastri she used an eyeshadow palette when she wanted to add colors
➥ user why did i never think of that, she’s so smarttttt
user oscar piastri the MAN that u AREEEE
logansargeant so,,,,are we still getting dinner later orrrrr
➥ user LOL
➥ user omg y/n was right logan IS jealous
➥ logansargeant im not jealous !!!!
➥ user 💀
➥ user okayyyy….we believe you LMAOOOOO
➥ oscarpiastri ijbol 😂
➥ logansargeant stop using ijbol it’s not funny
➥ user this will be the only time that i say i agree with logan on something
➥ logansargeant ur literally a fan account FOR ME?? @/user
➥ user yeah man u didn’t have to bring that up 😒
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#oscar piastri x reader#oscar piastri x female reader#oscar piastri x black!reader#oscar piastri x you#logan sergeant x reader#lando norris x reader#f1 x reader#f1 x female reader#f1 x black!reader#f1 x y/n#oscar piastri fic#oscar piastri fanfic#oscar piastri imagine#formula 1 fanfic#formula 1 x reader#formula 1 x female reader#formula 1 x black!reader#f1 imagine#f1 fic#f1 fanfic#f1 fluff#f1 crack#oscar piastri#⋆⭒˚｡⋆. series special: formula 1#serene's chapters.#serene’s fave.
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can i have one were zoro realises she does things bc of truama (like doesnt speak much etc)
hold me (still)
opla!zoro; 6,680 words; slow!!!!burn, fem!reader, ex-assassin!reader, straw hat!reader, general tragic backstory/trauma, fluff, hurt/comfort, bit of angst, emotionally constipated zoro, communication? what's that?, nami playing therapist bc she's the only one with 1 iota of emotional intelligence
summary: sometimes, stillness is a virtue, and others -- a tragedy. or, in which the straw hats pick up a new member and zoro is equally intrigued and weirded out by you.
a/n: well. you guys asked for slow burn and... the burn is so slow u gotta squint to see the smoke yall. but trust. the burn does get there! pls be patient!! and i tried to combine 2 dif reqs in this one fic :)
You are of the quiet sort. Just a shadow dancing in the periphery of their vision, and when they first met you, you’d told them it was your superpower, a soft, still smile slipping across your lips. Luffy had bought into it immediately, and the invitation was out his mouth before anyone could stop him.
“Come with us!”
“Oh…” your lips pressed into a thin line of consideration.
Zoro’s fingers itched towards his swords because something about you makes the hairs on the back of his neck stand up. But something else — something uncomfortable and strange, something very much like curiosity — seizes his chest and twists his stomach. Strange, he thinks, too strange.
“C’mon! It’ll be fun!”
And then, you’d smiled wider, and nodded, and that had been that.
It’s been three months since then, and you are still of the quiet sort, though it had receded a bit with time. What with Sanji’s gentle flirting and Usopp’s not-so-gentle stories and Nami’s bright, dry-humored companionship, you’d begun to “open up a bit”, so Luffy observed.
Zoro, for his part, has kept his distance. Because sometimes he still catches you at the bow of the ship, staring out across the midnight waters, still as a stone-carved statue. Still as a wooden beam — stiller, even.
“What’s with that?” he asks one day, strolling up to Nami as she traces a fine line over a new map she’s working on.
“Hm?” is her very eloquent response.
Zoro ticks his tongue against his teeth and casts his eyes about the ship, finding them drawn to the shape of you, up at the bow again, reading in the shade of the tangerine trees. Nothing moves except for the wind as it whisps through your hair and the slow scanning of your eyes as it skates across the page.
“New girl,” Zoro says, crossing his arms as Nami finally looks up at him and then off towards you.
“Why don’t you ask her yourself?”
Zoro lets out a puff of breath, unfolding his arms to glare at Nami. He finds her grinning a lopsided grin as she clicks shut her compass and puts down her pen. She leans a hip on the barrel she’d been drawing on and folds her own arms.
“Oh, you like her.”
“I’m weirded out by her. ‘S not the same thing,” Zoro snaps, but when he tries to leave, Nami blocks him with an arm and pins him with a sharp, leveling look.
“No, no, no — we’re gonna work this through.”
“No thanks, I’m good.”
“Uh-uh, you still owe me after that round of drinks the other night — remember when you bet you could drink more than me?”
Zoro narrows his eyes, “I did drink more than you.”
Nami’s grin is gleeful, “No, you didn’t. You had to be dragged back to your room after clogging up the toilet. Or do I need to show you the evidence —”
“Alright — fuck, fine. But really? This is what you’re gonna waste your favor on? You could’ve asked me to —” Zoro gestures around vaguely, “clean the bilge or something.”
Nami shrugs, looking almost too pleased, “Nope! This is what I wanna use my favor for. And, really, you think a bit of bilge water is gonna gross me out? C’mon.”
Zoro heaves a sigh and leans back against the main mast, closing his eyes.
“Fine then. Go.”
Nami sits back on the edge of the barrel.
“No, you go. Admit that you like the new girl.”
“I don’t.” He doesn’t open his eyes.
“I’ve seen you staring at her. We’ve all seen you staring at her.”
“What, that a crime now?”
Nami fights the urge to roll her eyes, “No, but I’ve never seen you try so hard to avoid someone before.”
Zoro lets out a bark of laughter, hard and mirthless, “Yeah, so that must mean I like her.”
Nami cocks her head, “It means you feel something towards her. And I’d suggest you figure it out.”
“And how’d you propose I do that?”
Nami once again waves in your direction, “Go. Talk. To her.”
Zoro lets out another breath, eyes scanning across the ship, anywhere but towards where you’re still sitting and reading, finger flipping a page in a perfect, smooth, singular motion.
And Zoro’s not blind. Blunt though he may be at times and careless as he is about most material things, he can still appreciate beauty when he sees it. And you — there’s no denying that you’re beautiful. Your strange stillness aside, when you do move, it’s with a dancer’s lissome grace, fluid lines, not a single movement wasted. When you smile, it seems to light you up from the inside, and your words, though soft, carries the well-worn weight of river stones, glittering beneath the clear, spring stream of your voice.
There’s a sharpness in your eyes, a straightness to your spine, a way of carrying yourself as if you’re afraid that one wrong move might shatter you and the entire world around you.
Sometimes when he sees you, he wonders at the hands that had sculpted you this way. He wonders at your life before they’d picked you up in Loguetown, when you’d oh-so-silently slipped up the execution platform and helped Luffy down, all the while staying free of Smoker’s watchful gaze.
The few times he’s seen you fight, he can’t help wondering if you’ve eaten some kind of devil fruit as well. No human could be so fast as that. Or be so quiet. But then again, he’d fought Kuro, and they’d seen stranger things. Still, he marvels at the way you flicker in and out of sight, slipping around the edges of battle like a dark, haunting thing, and men would drop like flies beneath your quick, quiet hands. With nary a sound or shout before their eyes roll back and their breathing is no more.
On the instances when Sanji had asked about your past, your eyes had gone misty and dark, unfocused. You’d gone still, freezing for so long that Usopp would cough just to fill the silence. And then slowly, ever so slowly, you’d turn back towards them with a small, sad smile and say:
“There’s… not much to talk about. I grew up somewhere far away, where if you didn’t keep quiet and still, bad things would happen to you. And then when those bad things happened, if you weren’t quick — the quickest of all, you’d die.”
Bad things, huh? Zoro thinks as he makes his way towards you, a hand resting on the hilt of his swords. He comes to a stop next to you and leans against one of the white planters, casually peering over your shoulder at the book in your hands.
For a long moment, neither of you move. Then, Zoro clears his throat and forces himself to speak.
“Is it good?”
It takes you a second, but eventually, you turn towards him.
“The book? Yeah, I suppose.”
“Not exactly a glowing review.”
You laugh, a soft, breathy little thing as you look back down at the page.
“It's about a girl who falls into an enchanted sleep, and a prince who wakes her up with a kiss.”
“Must’ve been one hell of a kiss.”
“Yes, and one hell of a prince.”
Zoro finds himself chuckling, his shoulders loosening as he takes another breath.
“And then what?” he asks.
“And then… he asks her to marry him.”
You run your fingers along the page, smoothing your palm over the ink and parchment. Zoro watches you, wondering, always wondering.
“What’s she say?” and it’s then that he notices his own voice, hushed and low, barely a whisper.
You look back up at him and smile a smile a sphynx would have been proud of.
“I don’t know. I haven’t gotten there yet.”
Zoro takes a breath, and the breath tastes distinctly different than all the breaths he’d taken before it. As if the world takes the breath with him, and some fundamental truth had shifted on the exhale.
The moment breaks, as moments are wont to do, when Sanji calls out for lunch and Zoro jerks out of his almost-reverie. You slowly close your book and rise to your feet, turning back to smile at him.
“C’mon, it’s lunchtime.”
Zoro nods and follows you into the kitchen, where Luffy and Usopp are already digging in, and Nami is pouring herself a drink. She spots the pair of you and catches Zoro’s eyes. A grin ticks at the edge of her lips but before she can say anything, you’re accosted by Sanji sweeping into a deep, flourishing bow, and ushering you towards the table, where he’d set your place in a manner fit for a princess.
“Where’s my setup?” Zoro asks as he drops into the seat next to you, cocking an eyebrow. Sanji shoots him an unimpressed look.
“I’m surprised you can use a fork and knife, moss-head. Just be grateful and eat up.”
Zoro scoffs but digs in nonetheless.
When next they dock, it’s on a rare, peaceful island — an island of light and books and learning, where the air smells of salt and ink and drying parchment, of unwritten words and untold stories. But it smells of a stillness too, and Zoro knows without having to ask that you’d like it here.
And you do.
He’s never seen you smile so much, never seen you so vibrant and full of life. You chat and laugh and read with a voracious hunger, and he finds himself drawn to this new, warm, moving side of you. He finds himself, more often than not, by your side, even when neither of you speak. And he basks in the comfort of the quiet that permeates the air when it’s just the two of you — him hanging in the hammock on deck, you reading by his side.
But now, there’s the soft tapping of your foot, the shuffle of pages when you flip forward to see what’s coming next, and of course the ever-present shush of the ocean as it washes against the Merry’s side.
The Log Pose needs two weeks to properly calibrate to the next island, so they’ve got time to kill.
On the fifth night, over dinner and drinks, Luffy asks the question that everyone’s been thinking since the day they’d all met you —
“So. Why’re you so still all the time? Not that it’s weird or anything — well, actually — it kind of is, but it doesn’t bother me. I’m just asking cause I'm curious!”
You look up from your half-finished wine but Zoro feels it happening, like the hush of a fan blade slicing through air, the gasp before a porcelain vase tips over and shatters. You stop. You stare. You’re frozen in every sense of the word. And he’s known you for long enough to know that you only go still as a reflex, only reach for it as a shield. Against what? He doesn’t quite know.
“It’s… something of a long story,” you say, your voice low and hoarse.
Luffy grins, smacking his lips as he sucks the meat off a chicken leg, “We’ve got tons of time! Right?” he looks around as if for validation, but everyone’s eyes are caught on you and your unnatural stillness.
Zoro shifts slightly in the seat next to you, opening his stance and turning towards you.
“Could do with a good story.”
Your eyes flash in his direction and he offers you the barest hint of a smile.
You relax, ever so slightly, drifting back in your seat, your glass cupped in the palms of your hands. And then, you begin to speak, your voice smooth and lilting, your words washing over them like the faint lull of the tides.
“When I was three, my father sold me for a barrel of beer.”
A dull clack echoes around the room and everyone turns to see Sanji hurriedly righting the thick stein he’s knocked over. Thankfully, it’d been empty.
“Sorry — I just — what?” he sounds furious but Usopp lays a hand across his arm and shakes his head.
You take a deep breath and continue, your voice oddly emotionless as you say, “The man who bought me took me to an island. It was… a dark place. A quiet place. I only learned its name after I escaped — an island called Elysium.”
Nami gasps before clapping her hands over her mouth.
“I’ve just — I’ve heard of that place before, but I thought… I thought it was just a made-up place.”
Luffy swallows hard, frowning, “What’s it like?”
Nami’s eyes flicker between you and Luffy, “Supposedly… it’s the home island for… for the most feared group of assassins in all the seas combined.”
Usopp’s eyebrows jerk up, “The most feared?”
A faint smile seeps across your lips like blood.
“Yes. The Shadows that Live.”
Everyone turns to look at you. Luffy picks up another drumstick.
“Whoa… cool name!”
Zoro hums, “I’ve heard of them before — but mostly, it was just an old wive’s tale about… shadow assassins who hunt in the dark. Mercenaries for hire. But… no one’s ever seen one before.”
“Because… once you see one, you’ll never live to tell the tale,” you say, your eyes now downcast and fixed on the glass in your hands.
“Then…” Usopp’s voice is soft, “What about… you?”
“I… I ran away.”
Silence greets you. But after a moment, Luffy spits out a bit of bone and uses it to pick at the space between his teeth, his eyes round.
“Wow! You must be pretty good to run away from an island full of shadow assassins!”
You almost laugh, his boundless trust hitting you like a punch to the stomach.
“So…” Sanji lets out a puff of silvery smoke, “the staying still thing… that’s just part of your training, yeah?”
You nod, “Something like that.”
Someday, you think, you’ll tell them about the hellscape that was Elysium island, of the long echoing halls, dark and still and silent. Of the mechanical beasts that hunted by sound and movement alone. Someday, you’ll let them know about the poisoned pomegranate seeds that they feed all the “recruits” to keep them hazy, of how you’d kept six of them suspended in your mouth and spat them all out when you’d finally made it far enough from the island to allow yourself to breathe.
“And… are these shadow assassins gonna come after us?” Nami asks, her voice careful and light.
You purse your lips, “I… I don’t know.”
Nami sighs, but a moment later, she moves to refill her drink with a slight shrug, “Well, just one more enemy to add to our growing list. Soon, we’re gonna have to post a sign-up sheet.”
At this, everyone laughs, and the tension snaps like a wounded spring.
Luffy burps loudly, patting his stomach, “I’m not worried — I mean, if you were able to run away from them once, that means you’re stronger than them, right?”
You pause, your hand hovering over the wine bottle. Zoro gently reaches over and refills your glass for you. You shift back into movement, casting him a small smile and taking a sip. The wine is cool and tangy as it hits the back of your throat. You breathe, and the world keeps spinning.
“I… I’m not sure — I’ve never fought… any of… them… before.”
“Guess we’ll find out if they try to come for you then — but you’ve got us now!” Luffy says, reaching for an apple and chomping into it, “ — Sho… you duon gotta wourry —” he licks his lips as he takes another huge bite before tossing the core towards the waste bin, “We’ve got your back!”
Nami makes a disgusted face, “Don’t talk with your mouth full, ugh.”
Sanji chuckles, tapping out his cigarette, “Yeah Luffy, mind your manners.” But his voice is full of laughter and you find yourself relaxing into the sway of the night, the swing of conversation. Beside you, Zoro refills his own glass and leans over to clink it against yours.
You turn, but he only raises his glass before taking a sip.
You mirror his movement, cradling the cup to your chest when you finish.
Later, he finds you by the tangerine trees, ghosting your fingers over their lush green leaves, dark enough to look black in the evening light.
“Hey.”
You turn, “Hi.”
Zoro sighs and looks out over the darkened waves, the moonlight refracted into a million shattered bits of sky.
“Luffy’s right, y’know.”
“What about?” you ask, joining him by the railings. The night air is cool and crisp. Behind you both, the island oozes with lamplight and laughter. Even from here, you can hear the joy, the peace that permeates the air here. It wouldn’t be a bad thing, you think, to stay here forever.
“If they come for you,” Zoro says, “we’ll have your back.”
You let out a small chuckle, looking down at your hands, “I know.”
“So,” he turns towards you, his earrings glinting in beneath the scimitar moon, “you don’t have to be afraid anymore.”
You lick your lips, and instinctively, you reach for the stillness. All the days and weeks and months with the people around you have softened you, and for that, you know you should be thankful. Still, old habits die hard, and you have to clench your fists and dig your nails into your own palms to keep from freezing completely.
You take a shivering breath and force it out again.
“Fear’s a hard habit to break.”
At this, Zoro grunts, though it sounds something like consent. The moment stretches, long and soft and taffy-sweet.
He turns back towards the sea, “Yeah,” he says, and then —
“But we can take it slow.”
You swallow hard, passed the broken shards of forgotten words lodged in your throat (you find that they all somehow taste like thank you), and you nod. Warmth tickles your cheeks and you wonder why he’s said we instead of you — and later, lying in your bed at night, staring at the moon-slatted ceiling, you wonder if he was really talking about fear or if it was something else entirely.
You don’t get a lick of sleep that night.
The next few days pass in a light, repetitive blur. You and Zoro are sent on a few short shopping trips in the city, and you’re glad for something to do that involves movement. Shocking how quickly the body adapts once the weight it’d been holding on to is lifted.
You are still quiet, and he, the same; but the silence has shifted around you, and whereas before it’d been solid and steady, it’s now thrumming and charged with some unspoken energy.
Neither of you are blind to it; nor, it seems, is the rest of the crew.
Sanji’s taken to openly teasing Zoro about being with you all the time, complaining loudly that he can’t get a word in edgewise because Zoro refuses to leave you alone. Nami keeps on trying to drag you out for “girl's day” shopping trips, hinting at all the cute clothes you could get and how “green really suits your skin tone, y’know?”
Luffy and Usopp for their part, both just grin whenever they see you together — Luffy stoked at the fact that you seem more happy and talkative, Usopp gleeful at the way Zoro always seems so much softer when he’s next to you.
You’ve taken to watching him when he trains, sitting in the shade of the tangerine trees, a cold drink in your hand as Zoro runs through his katas. You content yourself with watching him flow through the movements, one and then another, and then another after that. He contents himself with your presence, knowing that you’re here, feeling your eyes as they skate down the length of his back or the width of his shoulders.
It’s a peaceful sort of companionship, even if it is living on borrowed time.
When you all wave the little island goodbye, it’s with heavy hearts and tearful smiles. It had treated you well, and you think you’d miss it. But adventure is as adventure does — it calls, beckoning to those with wandering hearts to listen.
The first week back at sea is a strange one, full of a ringing nostalgia. As if you’re simultaneously coming home and leaving one at the same time. Everyone is a bit quiet, except for Luffy, of course, who literally bounces off the freshly waxed planks, humming to himself as he sits on top of the great ram’s figurehead.
“Is he ever still?” you ask one day, sometime in the second week.
To which Zoro makes a sound between a scoff and a laugh, “You’ve been here a while. What’d you think?”
You sigh softly and tear your eyes away from the bright, shivering ball of energy that is your captain towards the far horizon. A sliver of uncertainty twines through you and your breath slows. Zoro glances at you, now long since attuned to your subtle shifts in movement and stillness. He narrows his eyes.
“What is it?”
You shake yourself back into the moment, forcing a smile.
“Nothing. I think…” your words fade as the feeling twists in you again, knife-sharp and stinging. You clear your throat and reach up to brush away a strand of hair. Skin grazes skin as Zoro’s hand meets yours in the same gesture and you both freeze — hands held up, his finger caught against the bend of your cheekbone, your fingers curling over his.
Time slows, slackens around the pair of you, and the moment stays, suspended in space — garnet dark and perfect.
Neither of you dare to breathe. It’s then that you realize how close Zoro is — close enough for you to see the entire ocean reflected in his eyes: big and dark and so endless it nearly unmoors you. Close enough for you to feel the warmth of his skin; his body, emanating heat. You’d often wondered, in the long hours of watching him train, at the glistening copper of his skin and the light-kissed quality, if the sun himself favored Zoro as well.
Like this, it’s easy to believe that beneath his skin, there pulsed something like sunlight.
“Look! It’s an island! It’s an island!”
And just like that, the moment shatters. Time slips back into motion and you pull away from each other, breathless, with warm cheeks and thundering hearts, feeling somehow lightning-touched and static-ridden.
You take half a step back, reaching up to press a hand to your mouth as if to stop something from tumbling through. But what? You can’t really say.
Zoro tips back as well, whipping around to help Usopp and Sanji with the sails as Luffy continues to holler, waving his hat. On the horizon, you see it looming — the silhouette of an island. You lower your palm from your lips to your heart and wonder what kind of island it will be.
Deserted — seems to be the answer when you all make landfall. The island is quiet, but the occasional chirp and cricket staves off your nerves as you all wander cautiously about the beach, squinting into the dense forest that seems to encompass the whole of the island.
“Looks like a good place to camp for the night!” Luffy says, grinning as he plops down on the sand.
Sanji nods, dusting off his hands, “We’ll need some wood for a fire, but I reckon I can whip up some grilled fish from the fresh catch.”
You wrap your arms around yourself and look around, glancing back at the darkening horizon.
“Something the matter?” Zoro’s voice is soft as he helps you carry some of the camping supplies from the ship.
“No… yes… I —” you look up at him, pursing your lips, “I don’t know. I’ve just… this island is…”
Zoro looks around, his dark eyes scanning the thick swath of forest just beyond the beach, “Too quiet?”
You let out a tiny laugh, “Yeah, something like that.”
He nods, “Don’t worry, I’m — we’re here.”
And he leaves it at that, hoisting a stack of wood over his shoulders and going to help Nami with the fire. You watch him with a smile, wondering what on earth you’d done to deserve this level of caring, this magnitude of kindness. Soon, dinner is had and drinks are shared and laughter is spilled like so many silver coins over the white sand beach. The lull of the evening takes over you all, and before long, Luffy and Usopp are slumped over each other, snoring loudly.
You stare into the depths of the fire and try to tamp down the growing dread festering inside your bones. All those years of holding still, of breathing and listening and feeling — you shake yourself — no, not all stillness is a bad thing. Not all silences are made the same.
“You’re doing it again,” Zoro’s voice almost makes you jump. Instead, you turn, finding him next to you as he nurses a half-drunk bottle of wine in his hands. He doesn’t look at you, but there’s a loose grin hinged across his lips.
“Sorry,” you say, ducking your head, feeling a now familiar heat creep into your cheeks that has nothing to do with the dwindling bonfire.
“Don’t be,” Zoro takes another drink, “But I told you… you don’t have to be afraid anymore.”
“I know… and I’ve said before —”
“Fear’s a hard habit to break,” Zoro echoes back at you, finally glancing over and catching your eye.
You breathe out, looking down at your own hands, “Yeah… but I’m trying.”
You both fall silent, and for a while, the only sounds are the crackle of the dying flames, the shush of the ocean waves, and the occasional snores from the rest of your crew. It’s late — later than you realized.
“Do you… want me to grab a book for you?”
You smile, “No, I don’t think it’s bright enough.”
“I could restoke the fire.”
“No, it’s — it’s okay.”
“Alright.”
A bird coos the distance.
“Why don’t you tell me a story?” you ask, turning to look at Zoro proper, shifting till your body is facing him.
In the faint light, you can see the edge of his adam’s apple bobbing as he swallows.
“You’re asking the wrong guy — you should wait till the Great Captain Usopp’s awake.”
“Yeah, but I want to hear one from you.”
Zoro sighs, his eyes fixed on the last of the flickering flames. He takes another swig of wine before he starts to speak, his voice low and a bit stilted, but he pushes on. He tells you about his childhood, the village he’d trained in, the doujou in the middle of the wood, his friend who he’d never beat — not even once.
He tells you about he early mornings and the late nights, and how the world had seemed large enough to conquer.
“… And then… there came a morning when she didn’t show up… and sensei came and told me that there’d been an accident.”
His voice almost breaks then, and your eyes catch on the shining white hilt of the Wadou Ichimonji — his thumb pressing against the guard, running along it’s hard metal edge.
“Oh… I’m sorry.”
Zoro shrugs, “Don’t be.”
You nod, “Still.”
Zoro slates you a lopsided smirk, “So. Now you know my tragic backstory too.”
You laugh, leaning back to cast your eyes up towards the sky, “And you know mine — it’s almost like we’re friends or something.”
Zoro lets out a long breath, “Yeah… or something.”
There’s a tightness to his voice that makes your skin tingle and it takes everything you have not to look over at him, to try and see if he’s looking at you, watching you the way you’d imagined him to be. You fancy you can feel his gaze on your face, but you close your eyes instead.
You let yourself fall into the warm haze of sleep, and for a while you drift there, your mind sifting through shards of memories and slivers of sound, casting them against the backs of your eyelids as you slowly slide into the darkness of dreams.
You wake up to a gasping stillness — the silence pressing in on your eardrums like thumbs, the darkness around you so complete it’s almost a solid thing. You freeze, your breath hissing to a halt inside you. Then distantly, ever so distantly, you hear the sounds of battle — metal clashing against metal, the hard thud of boots against flesh. You shake your head and reach up to clap your hands over your ears and only then do your senses return to you, snapping back as if you’d been abruptly shunted back into your earthly body.
“Gum Gum — Pistol!”
“Seize her!”
You whip into movement, fast as a flash, dashing away, hoping against hope that it would draw your attackers far enough from your crewmates.
“No one… ever… leaves us…”
The voice is serpentine and susurrus, sinking into your skin like sharpened teeth, but before it can reach you, it’s cut short by a bright flash of silver.
You gasp, whirling around, reaching for the nearest pulse, instinct taking over as you sink your fingers into muscle and flesh. The rush of blood thrumming beneath your fingertips comes too easy, even as a familiar scent accosts you. A moment later, your hands are being pinned above you, and thick, rough bark is digging into your wrists as Zoro stands before you, a sword in one hand, the other holding you still.
His eyes are a little wild and a lot worried. There’s a ring of red rawness around his neck, thin trickles of blood trailing along his jugular, disappearing into the wide scoop neck of his shirt.
“Hey, look at me.”
You nearly whimper, struggling against him, fear still coursing through you like a drug but Zoro is strong enough to keep you held. Behind him, you can see the rest of the crew fending off several shadowy figures, Usopp waving a torch, screaming at the top of his lungs, Luffy whooping as he whacks another figure with his fist.
“Z-Zoro?”
“Yeah, it’s me — eyes up here.”
You swallow in a breath, and then another, and you feel the bright thrum of urgency leave you as your body slowly falls slack. And then you’re slipping, and he’s looping an arm around you to keep you upright.
“Th-they’re here — they —”
“They’re gone — we got rid of them — hey.”
Zoro takes you by the shoulders and gives you a gentle shake. Finally, your eyes catch on his and your gaze holds. You see yourself reflected in them, stark and terrified, but alive — somehow alive.
“They’re gone,” he says, his voice soft and low by your ear, his arm still wrapped around your middle. Shivers wrack your body as you bury your face in his shoulder. He smells of steel and skin and the metallic tang of blood. It’s then that you remember — the wounds on the sides of his neck. The marks in the shape of your hands —
You jerk back and feel a sticky wetness against your cheek.
“Zoro, I hurt you!”
At this, he scoffs, pulling back far enough to flash you a look.
“This is nothing. C’mon.”
He offers you a hand, and after a second you take it, letting him pull you to your feet. Wordlessly, he presses his palm to the small of your back, his arm extended to keep you steady as you both make your way back towards camp.
“Phew! That was a workout!” Luffy is saying just as you both reach the outskirts of the now-darkened bonfire. Sanji is pulling out a cigarette, striking a match, and first lighting the end before tossing it into the remains of the firewood, fanning it up into a slow flame.
Nami and Usopp both look a bit shaken, but none worse for the wear.
They all pivot to look at you.
You go still against Zoro’s side, uncertainty flooding through you. Faintly, you feel Zoro’s fingers as they press into the bend of your waist, solid and steady.
Then, Usopp coughs, “C’mon y’all — the Shadows that Live? Psh! More like — the Shadows that Fled, am I right? Yeah? Didya see the way I sent ‘em runnin’ with my brand new fire-powered explosion rounds?”
Nami chuckles and Sanji follows suit, shaking his head and letting out a thin wisp of smoke. Luffy’s grins at you, pumping a fist in the air, clapping his right shoulder.
“See? Told you we’d have your back! We are your crew, after all!”
Weakness seeps into your limbs as you nod, hot pin-pricks of tears itching at your lower lashes. You lower your head and rub at your eyes before looking back up again with a smile. Sanji grimaces as he looks over Zoro.
“Got something on your neck, mate.”
Zoro glares but you glance over and feel your stomach twist with guilt.
“Sorry… I can clean that up for you. They’re not deep but they do need to be bandaged up.”
Zoro wipes down his sword before sheathing it and motioning towards the ship. Behind you, you can hear Nami yawning and saying something about catching up on some more sleep and Sanji reassuring her about having the last watch anyway.
The kitchen is still dark, but the dusty dawn sweeps against the far horizon and neither of you bother to turn the lights on. You carefully set the first aid kit on the kitchen counter and collect the supplies as Zoro leans back against the edge and folds his arms. You work in near silence, reaching up to first wipe the thin threads of drying blood before tending to the tiny, crescent-shaped puncture wounds.
You press an alcohol-soaked cotton ball against one of them and feel Zoro wince.
“Sorry.”
“I’m fine.”
You bite your lips, “If this had been a bit deeper or a few inches over —”
“But it wasn’t. So it’s fine.”
You don’t look up at him but you can feel his eyes on you. Your movements are fluid and sure; you’d clearly done this before.
“Hey, look at me.”
You freeze, eyes slowly gliding up the planes and divots of his neck, slipping up the line of his jaw, so sharp it might’ve been turned on a diamond cutter’s lathe. Your breath hitches as you finally meet his eyes, and there’s a dark, knowing glint behind them that makes your stomach flip.
“I’m fine.”
And for the second time in a handful of hours, you’re caught by the realization of your closeness — only a breath of space between you. There’s a crimp at the corner of his mouth that looks dangerously like a smile and then you’re tipping forward, a thumb reaching up to trace the line of his bottom lip once —
The movement acts like a trigger, and suddenly, he is leaning in and the breath of space disappears.
For all your life of stillness, you thought you’d learned to appreciate the depths and widths of movement. But nothing could’ve prepared you for this — for the push and pull of lips on lips, for the force and friction of skin against skin. For the gasp and hiss, for the breath and kiss.
For the feeling of his large palm as it settles along the swallow’s-nest bend of your neck, the way his thumb runs along your jaw like tracing the guard of his beloved sword, tilting your mouth towards him. For the way your heart might flutter like a tiny, caged bird, or the way you might feel his heart thumping like a fist from his chest to yours.
For the way his voice rolls over your name like a ship at sea; for the way it would shake your body from your bones and leave you more liquid than solid in his arms. For how you never used to think your story would be a love story, but then you realize that every story is a love story if caught in the right moment, in the right light.
And here, breaking apart from Zoro, with a thick, stolen streak of lemon-yellow sunlight leaking in from the kitchen window — that’s exactly what it feels like.
“Oh,” is all you have the strength to say.
Zoro, in all his solid brilliance and quiet audacity, laughs.
You taste the smile on your own lips before you realize you’re smiling. But when you try to bury your face in his neck, he winces slightly as you brush his still-fresh wounds.
“Crap, I forgot about these.”
Zoro chuckles as you hurry to press a few small bandages to the wounds.
“It’s okay. So did I.”
You finish dressing his wounds in silence, though this silence is markedly different from every other silence that had ever existed between you. There’s ease and tension, both, and when you’re finally finished, Zoro takes both your hands in his.
“So…” you say, unsure suddenly of where to look.
Zoro’s laugh is just as soft, just as uncertain.
“So.”
You try to look out the window, but by now, the dawning sun is so bright that it temporarily blinds you and you jerk back. Zoro smiles, reaching up to run his thumbs along your closed eyelids before dropping them to hook around your wrists again.
“Do you… wanna talk about it?” he asks, quiet as always.
You purse your lips and let your lashes flutter open. You find him watching you. Heat crests up your shoulders and into your cheeks, and suddenly, the exhaustion of the night before saps at your limbs. You sigh.
“Right now? Not really.”
“Yeah, neither do I,” he says, sounding as relieved as you feel.
You bite your lips and cast your gaze shyly across his face, your bird-wing heartbeat still flapping in your chest. You fight the urge to go still, to reach for that shield that has always protected you before. Faintly, you feel Zoro’s thumbs tracing circles along the insides of your wrists.
“Can I ask for something else, though?”
“What is it?”
You reach up a finger, nudging one of his golden earrings. You don’t miss the way he shivers, or the way his breath quickens in his chest.
“Kiss me again.”
Zoro grins, tugging you towards him, leaning into the curve of your palm as he does.
And does.
And does again.
reqs are: temporarily closed
but feedback is much loved and appreciated!!!
#Anonymous#one piece#one piece live action#opla zoro#opla roronoa zoro#roronoa zoro#roronoa zoro x reader#roronoa zoro x you#x reader#opla#one piece netflix#opla zoro x reader#one piece live action x you#one piece live action x reader#roronoa zoro fluff#one piece fluff#opla fluff#roronoa zoro imagines#roronoa zoro scenarios#floofy floof floof#scheduled post#angst mcgee#and yes after some consideration and that poll#im giving Proper Caps a try LOL#its strange i think it actually changes my voice a lil bit#but i dont think i mind???#anyway -- any feedback would be much appreciated! <3
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Hi, could I request a Lucifer morningstar x darkness demon overlord reader? She lurks in the shadows like a boogeyman, she acts like morticia adams from the adams family, how would he meet or act around the gothic queen👁👁✨
LUCIFER X OVERLORD! FEM! READER
Part two
Lucifer was just wandering around hell, unknowingly entering a territory of an overlord.
He doesn't know okay? It's just a forest of dead wilted trees with ominous aura.
His first instinct is to investigate.
This is his first time coming here, he only discovered this area after flying by to return to the palace.
Lucifer was walking around the dense forest, with his guard up.
The forest was quiet. A little too quiet.
He isn't afraid, unfortunately. He knows he can kill any demon who would try to mess with him.
Crack. A twig snapped
His head whipped to the direction of the noise, “Who goes there? Show yourself!” he threatens, wings in full display.
Shadows moving around him and finally stopping in front of him, morphing into a figure.
Lucifer expected a lot of things, but this.
A very tall and gorgeous woman, large deer antlers on her head. Sultry eyes and a smirk on her face.
Oh fuck, she's beautiful. Dangerous. He can sense the power she has.
“Good evening your highness, I didn't expect to see you here wandering around my home.” the woman says with a chuckle, making the man become a little flustered.
“Your home...?” he asked hesitantly and the woman nodded.
“Yes, this is my home or rather my territory. My home is somewhere around here. I just sensed a presence around these grounds and decided to check. I didn't expect to see the king of hell to be here.”
“M-my apologies, my lady. I simply didn't know.” he stammers a bit. Ah, calm yourself Lucifer. You're more powerful so you shouldn't be intimidated, he says to himself internally.
“It is alright, if you don't mind. Do you want to join me for a cup of tea? I just so happen to have finished brewing some.”
Lucifer is cautious around sinners, especially her. He doesn't know why his heart is palpitating this much. The best reason he got is fear loud incorrect buzzer noise
“I don't want to intrud—”
“Nonsense! You're not intruding.”
“But—”
“Do not fret, I am not going to hurt you. I should be the scared one as you are much more powerful than me. I am sure you can obliterate my existence with a flick of your finger.” the woman laughs softly, a kind of laugh that reminds him of the books he's read. The kind of laugh that draws you in.
“How about this, how about we get acquainted with each other? So that you'll be more comfortable?”
Lucifer's eyes narrowed, “Why are you so insistent?”
“Well, I just love making friends and you my dear seem to be an interesting character that I don't mind befriending.”
Lucifer rolls his eyes but eventually nodded, “Fine, My name is Lucifer Morningstar.”
“Wonderful, then... It's a pleasure to meet you Mr. Lucifer, my name is [y/n]” She says before gently holding his hand and placing a small kiss on his knuckles.
With a smirk on her face as her eyes looked at him as she did so.
Lucifer's cheeks reddened, quickly snatching his hand away from the demoness.
“So, about that tea?”
Lucifer is beginning to see a pattern.
A type even.
It's been a few months since he's met the deer demoness.
Surprisingly he managed to get along with her, despite her... Rather questionable actions.
He often visits her mansion at the middle of the forest where he met her or the other way around.
She often surprises him by popping out of the shadows with her presence concealed.
She's playful, mysterious, dangerous, beautiful.
And tall.
He likes his women tall okay?
And he likes them a little deranged.
Anyways.
She keeps teasing him.
Just like the other day, he came to visit at the wrong time and she forced him to help her get dressed.
It was inappropriate! She only asked him to zip the zipper of her dress.
Poor guy was blushing.
She didn't make fun of his obsession with rubber ducks.
She even made ducks out of shadows and made it swim around his room and of course, he made one too with his powers.
The shadows and gold dust ducks swimming around the room and in the air.
It was... Cute...
Lucifer has gotten to know the woman better too, he has gotten the chance to see many sides of her.
Lucifer isn't stupid, he can tell he's developing feelings for her.
He's afraid, he's afraid of getting hurt again or hurting her.
He has issues he needed to fix first.
Though, he is slightly a flustered mess around the woman.
Can you blame him? She calls him endearing nicknames! She calls him sweetheart and it just makes his heart flutter.
He is cautious around her not because he's afraid of her but because he fears his feelings for her would accidentally be known.
And she just appears out of nowhere!
It took awhile for him to sort his emotions and he thinks he is finally ready to confess.
But first, Lucifer needs to find hints if she feels the same way.
“Thanks for the coffee, [y/n]. It tastes amazing as always.” Lucifer says, admiring the duck shaped cream that is floating on his coffee.
“It is a pleasure, sweetheart. Drink to your heart's content. I know you've been stressed lately.” She says with a gentle voice.
“I have a question.” he started, already planning a discreet way to ask her.
“Hmm? Go ahead.”
“What if let's say... You have a close friend and you've only known him for a couple of months but they fell in love with you and now they're planning to confess to you? Would you date him?”
Don't mind him guys, he's trying his best.
[y/n] tilts her head slightly, confused before giggling.
She's not stupid but she kinda wants to tease him.
“Depending on who this friend is.”
“Just answer.” he deadpans.
“Yes, would you confess though?” she asked as she leans forward to reach him across the table, holding his chin. Lips just a few inches away from each other.
Lucifer.exe has stopped working.
“Y-yes...” he stammers, beginning to feel shy as his cheeks heat up.
“Do you want a kiss?” she asked teasingly.
“Please...?”
“Good boy.” she says before finally pressing her lips against his.
It was the most addicting kiss he ever experienced.
“I like you.”
“I like me too.”
“[y/n]!”
“I am just joking, I like you too.”
#lxkeee hazbin hotel masterlist#hazbin hotel#lucifer#lucifer hazbin hotel#lucifer morningstar x reader#lucifer magne#hazbin hotel x reader#lxkeee answers#lucifer morningstar
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Pairing: Notsovirgin!Bucky x f!reader
Summary: While having fun with your boyfriend, an accident occurs, leading to another first for Bucky
Warnings: Wrong hole, Bucky cums so much, squirting, Bucky is a sweet boy, unprotected p in v, anal, anal fingering, dirty talk, small mention of prostate cancer (Like one line), Bucky is an innocent baby, anal to vaginal fingering (DON’T DO THAT), Bucky calls reader a whore once, but it’s sexy, overstimulation?, daddy kink (I can’t help myself), Bucky is becoming a dom??, no crying during sex (I know, shocker)
Word Count: 3.2k
A/N: Part of the Virgin!Bucky series. It can be read as a stand alone as well. But you shouldn't read it alone because it's filthy! And it's worth it to see Bucky becoming more and more a lover of Sex! Beta read and idea from the incredible @buckys-wintersoldier Blame her for the filth you are about to read. She’s the one who put this idea in my head. I can’t be held responsible for the feelings you experience. However, any and all mistakes are my own. But you wrote that!!!! A lot of filthy ideas which dropped my jaw and let my pasta almost fall out of my mouth!
You and Bucky have been fucking like rabbits ever since the day he lost his virginity to you. He was addicted to the feel of your tight cunt wrapped around his cock, never lasting more than a few minutes, but able to keep going thanks to the serum coursing through his body. He wonders if he will ever be able to last longer. You say you don’t mind that he can’t control how fast he cums, but it doesn’t make him feel any better that he can’t.
Even with that thought nagging at him all the time, the moment he enters you his mind goes blank, only able to think about how wet and tight you are. Never experiencing anything like it before. Almost every night you have to change the sheets, the sheer volume of his cum too much for your body to handle; however, that doesn’t stop you from fucking him every damn day, waking him up with blowjobs when he has morning wood, or the way you beg for him to cum in you just one more time.
Bucky understands now. He understands why people go so crazy over sex. The pleasure you give him makes him weak in the knees, not a single thought in his head, only the urge to fill you up over and over again.
That’s how he ends up in bed, railing you. Legs thrown over his shoulders taking his brutal assault. He’s gotten more confident each time he fucks you. He may not last long, but he makes up for it with how many times he can cum and keep going. The both of you writhing in pleasure, him drawing seven orgasms from you already, eating your pussy for over an hour.
He wasn’t too far behind, cumming inside of you three times and once down your throat. The sounds of your fucking is louder than ever, your squirt mixed with his excessive loads making you wetter than ever. “Fuck, doll, this pussy is so fucking wet, filled up with my cum. So fucking dirty, letting me use you like this, fucking you like a damn toy. God, my cock is so fucking sensitive, gonna blow again. Yeah, you want that? I bet you do, you dirty whore.”
One thing that Bucky has found out he really loves is dirty talk and degradation. He loves when you do it to him just as much as doing it to you. It makes his cock somehow even harder. Each push of his hips is met with a harsh slap of his thighs meeting your ass and the vulgar sound of the excessive wetness of your pussy.
“Shit, doll, gonna cum. Gonna cum so goddamn much, make this pussy overflow. Shitshitshit, fuck, m’cumming.” His balls pull up, forcing so much cum out of his cock that he swears he’s about to pass out. His eyes roll to the back of his head when he feels you squirt all over him, another wave of cum bursting from him. The force of your orgasm pushes his cock out, but Bucky was brainless now, having cum so much he was losing control of his body.
His hips never stopped moving, almost not noticing that he wasn’t in your pussy anymore, too lost in his own pleasure, cum still flowing from him. He tried to put his cock back in, needing to keep you full of his cum, but the amount of cum and wetness made a slippery mess. At the next thrust of his hips, his cock slides down, not entering your welcoming pussy, rather trying, and failing to enter your ass.
Your hole tight and unwilling to stretch on such short notice takes your breath away. The pain is instant, shooting from your hole all the way up your spine. “FUCK!” You push Bucky off of you with so much force he almost falls off the bed. Curling on your side, you try to gasp for air, the pain knocking the wind out of you.
Bucky is knocked out of his stupor, cock immediately softening when he sees how much pain you’re in. “Doll, what happened? Are you okay?” Ice drenches his spine. He barely started having sex and he’s already hurt you. Everything was fine seconds ago and now you’re curled up in the fetal position gasping for air.
“I’m okay, Bucky, I’m okay.” It comes out breathy but you try to compose yourself for your boyfriend’s sake, needing to comfort him, letting him know he didn’t do anything wrong. You roll over looking at Bucky who looks like a kicked puppy.
“What did I do?” His voice is thick with unshed tears. You’re the last person he ever wants to hurt. You motion for him to come closer to you. At first he hesitates, not wanting to accidentally hurt you again, but you insist so he follows.
“You tried to go in the wrong hole, sweetheart. That one doesn’t open up as easy.” He whines. Bucky can’t deny that the thought of his cock in your ass hadn’t crossed his mind more than once. But he couldn’t ever find the confidence to ask you. Of course he knows that you would never judge him, but he didn’t know that he wasn’t the only one who was interested.
“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to hurt you, doll.” You cut off the rest of his apology, not wanting to hear him talk badly about himself.
“It’s okay, sweetheart. A lot of people do that, they just have to prep for it.” That gains Bucky’s attention. Other people want to do the same thing as him?
“I-well-they do?” Bucky can feel the heat rising in his cheeks. He was terrible at having any conversations about what he wants to do in the bedroom, too afraid to ask.
“Yes, they do. If you want we can try it too. We just need to have some prep beforehand, so you’ll fit inside of me and it won’t hurt.”
“It hurts you?” There was no way that Bucky would do anything if it would hurt you. He gets off on your pleasure just as much as his own. Why would anyone want to do something that hurts their partner?
“Not when I’m prepared. You have to work that hole open because it’s not usually meant for that kind of stuff. It’s supposed to feel good for the both of us.” That makes his cock twitch. The feeling of your pussy is so different from the feel of your mouth. They both drive him crazy, but the thought of what your ass would feel like has his cock rock hard in a matter of seconds.
“Can we, uh, can we do that?” His cheeks were on fire, never having been so embarrassed to ask for something in his life. He buries his head in the crook of your neck, not wanting you to see his face. The sound of your giggle makes him curl further into you, feeling the vibrations through his chest.
“Of course we can, sweetheart. I’ll show you what to do, talk you through it.” It soothes Bucky, knowing that you’re there to guide him. To show him how to please you. He has no clue what he would do without you.
“Have you done this before?” Bucky knows he has no right to be jealous of any of your exes when he is the one who gets to be with you, but the image of someone else taking that hole annoys him.
“Only by myself, but I’ll show you how to start.” Gently, you push Bucky off of you, making him sit up on the bed. He stares down at you with so much love you almost just beckon him back to you, wanting to keep him in your arms forever. Nonetheless, you spread your legs, showing him your swollen, cum filled cunt.
You see Bucky’s cock bop with a pulse of arousal at the sight. “Oh, I almost forgot.” Bucky watches as you flip over, ass up in the air causing him to moan. You glance back at him with a smirk, but continue on your mission. Opening the drawer to your bedside table, you pull out a bottle of lube, tossing it to Bucky who easily catches it.
“What is this? What’s lube?” You move back into your original position, drawing Bucky’s attention away from the bottle.
“Well, you gotta get in there somehow. It makes everything slicker, less painful. Open the bottle, sweetheart and put it on one of your fingers. Then I want you to circle my hole with it.”
Bucky whispers a quiet, “oh fuck, that’s so fucking hot,” underneath his breath before popping the cap to the bottle open and putting a generous amount on his finger before bringing it to your rim, circling it just like you said.
“You’re doing so good for me, sweetheart. Always listen so well to me.” Bucky’s hips jerk involuntarily at your praise, wanting more.
“Can I put one in now, please?” Oh, your baby was desperate. You look right into his eyes and nod, letting him know he can. “Shit, you’re so tight.” You only gasp, the feeling of his finger inside of you is so much different than your own. He slowly pumps his finger in and out, curling it to find your spot. His brows pull together in concentration, not being able to find it. He has to put his ego aside and ask for help, he knows it. “Doll, can you show me where it is?”
“There’s no g-spot in my ass, sweets.” This stops his finger, his head immediately falling, not wanting to look into your eyes. He knows men have a prostate, it was a whole deal back in the day with men getting cancer. So why didn’t you have one?
“But, what about your prostate?” The poor thing. You have to bite your lip to stop yourself from laughing. He doesn’t know any better and he just wants to make you feel good. The last thing you want to do is make him feel bad for something he didn’t know.
“Oh, sweets, women don’t have them, only men do.” This was a very awkward conversation to have when Bucky’s finger is still in your ass, just sitting there unmoving. Bucky bites his bottom lip, avoiding eye contact with you. Why can’t he do anything right? First he tries to spear you with his cock in your ass and now he is trying to find a damn prostate that you don’t even have.
“M’sorry, doll. I didn’t know, I just thought everyone had one.” Bucky feels the blood slowly leaving his cock from the mortification. You felt your face heat up too, the pressure of his finger a constant reminder that he was inside of you.
“It’s okay, sweetheart, just move your finger like you would your cock. All you have to do is be gentle and you’ll get the hang of it.” When he finally looks up at you he has the sweetest pout on his lips. Keeping eye contact with him, you trail your hand down your body, meeting his hand where it resides inside of you. Wrapping your hand around his, you guide his movement, slowly trusting his hand until he starts to move it on his own.
“It feels so tight. How am I going to fit in there?” Just the thought of his cock in the hole that is struggling to accommodate one finger has the blood rushing right back into his dick.
You let out a small moan, enjoying the feeling of Bucky’s finger, much better than your own. “You can add another finger, sweets, just be gentle.” Bucky’s breath hitches, cock desperate to be inside you, but he knows he has to wait. He brings his middle finger to your hole, rubbing it the way he did the first; his first finger still inside you. After a few seconds he gingerly pushes his second finger in, extremely aware of the stretch around his digits.
“Oh fuck, want to feel you around my cock so bad.” Bucky knows that as soon as he puts his cock in you he’s going to cum. It took so long for him to not cum immediately when he’s in your pussy. Even so, he still can’t last more than a few minutes. It’s still a shock to him that he didn’t bust as soon as you took him in your mouth for the first time.
Bucky keeps up the pace with his fingers, ignoring the ache in his cock. When you tell him to add another he eagerly does so, wanting to stretch you out as fast as possible while keeping you comfortable. You see his hips jerking, trying to find relief from the pressure building up in his balls.
“Spread your fingers for me, sweets, stretch me out for your fat cock.” The whine that leaves Bucky’s lips has your cunt throbbing and your ass clenching around his fingers. He does what you say, like he always does, and the moan that leaves the both of you is salacious. “You like that, huh? You like the thought of your fat cock in my ass, sweets?” Bucky can only groan, frantically nodding his head, his dick somehow getting harder.
“Please tell me you’re ready. Need my cock in you so bad, doll.” He looks like he could cum just from the sight of his fingers in your hole. You take pity on him, not being able to stand the thought of him not being inside you any longer.
“Yeah, sweets, just need more lube.” As quickly as he can while still being tender, he removes his fingers and desperately searches for the bottle, squirting more than enough on his cock. Skooching closer to you, he spreads your legs, lifting you up so he can stare at your stretched hole. He places your legs on top of his thighs, looking at you for confirmation before grabbing his cock and lining it up with your entrance.
Slowly pushing in, he can feel the resistance of your ass, yet it was still so welcoming. Bucky’s eyes roll back, his metal hand wrapping around the base of his cock, trying to stave off his orgasm. “Doll, I can’t, fuck, it feels too good, I- oh fuck, m’cumming.” Bucky only had the tip of his cock in your ass. He was vaguely aware that he shouldn’t push the rest of his cock into you so the hand holding the base of his cock moves up his length, jerking his cock to help ride his orgasm out.
“Fuck, sweets, I can feel you filling up my ass. You’re going to make me leak all over the bed.” This only makes Bucky whine more, hips jerking slightly, still trying to stop himself from slamming the rest of his cock inside, but the feeling of his cum shooting in your ass it too hot so you move your hips, trying to take more of his cock, while he’s still cumming inside of you.
“Ohhhh fuuuucck, that’s so good, so fucking good, want to stay inside you forever, keep this tight ass wrapped around my cock all the damn time.” More cum shot out of his cock with renewed vigor. Bucky thought he was about to pass out, fighting off the feeling because there was no way he could miss a second of being inside you.
His head was thrown back, not able to control his head. You felt your pussy throb, slick leaking down to where his cock rests in your hole, clit pulsing, hard and begging to be touched. You couldn’t help yourself, rocking your hips, fucking yourself on his cock that was still hard but not shooting his load anymore. “You’re so fucking big, sweets, stretching me out so much, never felt anything like it before.” It wasn’t a lie, it never felt like this with any of your toys, the fact that Bucky’s load was supersized doing nothing to quell your arousal.
“Bet I could feel myself if I stuck my fingers in your pussy. Massage my cock through your walls. Bet you would like that, wouldn’t you? Yeah, I think you would.” Bucky had no room to talk about how needy you were when he busted as soon as his tip was inside of you, but you couldn’t find it in yourself to care when you’re already cock drunk just from the few shallow thrusts of your hips.
All you could do was moan and nod your head, wanting to feel him everywhere. Bucky had to use his flesh fingers, needing to feel his cock through your pussy. Without preamble, he pushes two fingers into your pussy, immediately curling them to feel his cock through your thin walls. “Fuck, doll, you’re so fucking perfect, taking my cock so well.”
He couldn’t hold out any longer, pulling his hips back just to slam them back in, the sound of your leaking slick mixed with all the lube around your ass made a sinful sound. Just that one thrust knocks the wind out of the both of you, only to catch your breath to wantonly moan. “How does it feel, doll? How does my fat cock feel up your tight ass?” The slapping noises only got louder with each thrust, each harder than the last.
“So good, daddy, so fucking good!” Bucky’s hips stutter, cock aching to cum, but he can’t, not yet.
Your moans mixed so sweetly with Bucky’s whines and groans. His fingers rubbing his dick every time he pushes back in. “You’re gonna make me cum again. Need to feel you milk my cock. Need you to milk daddy’s cock for him.” You shake your head, not able to process the pleasure he’s giving you, having already had seven orgasms. “Yes, you can, doll. I need it, need it so fucking bad.”
With his fingers still thrusting in your pussy, his metal hand comes down to rub your clit. Your hips jerk, trying to get away from the cool metal but you have nowhere to run. He fucks you even harder, urging the cum from his balls. You don’t even feel the coil tighten in your belly, overwhelming pleasure sneaking up on you.
You can’t even scream, eyes rolling back, somehow mustering up the strength to push his hand away from your clit. With your ass clenching so hard around his dick, he can’t hold out any longer, cumming in your ass. He feels the wetness of your squirt push his fingers out, wetting his stomach and making his thrusts just that much easier.
His orgasm is just as silent, knocking the words right out of him. He can’t even breath, veins in his forehead bulging, face turning red. This one doesn’t last as long, his balls being drained from all the cum he’s shot out in the past hour. Right before Bucky passes out, he sucks in huge gulps of air, trying to come back down to earth. You both lay there, eyes dazed, looking at nothing, covered in cum, lube, and squirt. Neither of you care, you couldn’t even if you tried. You’re the first to speak, voice hoarse from all the screaming you’ve done.
“We’re going to do that again.”
Bucky can only get out one word, “yeah.”
#bucky barnes#bucky barnes x you#bucky x reader#bucky x female reader#bucky x y/n#bucky barnes smut#bucky x you#bucky imagine#bucky smut#sebastian stan x reader#virgin!bucky barnes#virgin!bucky#virginbucky x reader
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