#all in costume...for as much as that reveals for will as one of the handful of ppl w/Just Their Heads in the shot | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

m-ayo-o · 3 months

Note

megumi and yuji sharing a cute bunny girl and yuji is so soft and sweet with her and gumi pounds her into the mattress 😵‍💫😵‍💫😵‍💫

* ✦　˚　. s t r a w b e r r i e s & c r e a m ★⋆. ࿐࿔

REQUESTS ARE STILL CLOSED : written in the past! 🍒 yuji + megumi 21+ x hybrid bunny girl reader 🐇 wc: 2.6k aged up characters !!! nsfw -> panty ripping, messy pussy eating, squirting mention, explicit food play, threesome, pussy sharing (i went on a side quest with this one) hybrid fics 💕 valentine's

Another month has passed, with your heat cycle running its course, going up and down with your hormones.

Your owner knows every detail of your behaviour during the cycle. He knows when you need comforting and snuggling, he knows when you need a bit of space, and he knows when you're so pent up you never want to let him go.

And now his sweet best friend, who you've come to like very much, knows a lot about you too. He spends so much time visiting you and your owner, you've become close. You trust him- not as much as your owner, but enough that you feel very comfortable around the pink haired man.

Perhaps a little too comfortable, Megumi is beginning to think.

However, he continues to allow his visits because when Yuji arrives it looks like your birthday and Christmas have come at once. With that pretty, shy smile of yours, the excited shine behind your eyes; Megumi can't deny that.

And you're so glad, because now it almost feels like you have two owners. You know that's not true. It never will be. But two gorgeous men looking after you is a real treat. They're very different, but you can tell they both care about you so much.

︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵

After another cute day out with them, going to the movies followed by a bit of shopping (with some grunting and sighing from Megumi) you're finally back in your warm apartment, nestled on the sofa with Yuji.

Or rather, Yuji's sitting on the sofa. You're sitting on him.

He dragged you onto his lap after you got changed into something 'more comfortable' when you got home. It's just so warm and cosy, it's like your nest where you feel most content, so of course you put on a cute little night dress. You didn't take into consideration the two of their feelings when you selected this certain piece of clothing, only that it would help keep you a bit cooler.

But it's not exactly helping now your body is under Yuji's burning hot touches. He's always so warm it feels like he has fire under his caramel skin, deep in his body, that's released with every loving squeeze to your waist, your hips, your arms, your back- anywhere he can touch he is blazing a trail of heat.

He touches you on instinct; following the flow of your body. You're just chatting away and he can't keep his big hands off you.

"I really liked that store we went to, with the- uh, um-"

You forget what they called it. Your nose twitches and your ears flop to the side with a confused look on your dainty features.

Yuji studies your puzzled face for a moment, wondering which store you might mean.

"Oh, the lingerie?"

"Yes, yes!" That was it. All of those pretty, skimpy outfits, dresses and costumes, with the lace and bows and- you just can't contain your excitement- "it was so beautiful in there."

You say with a dreamy look on your face.

"Mhm," Yuji nods in agreement, his brown eyes giving you a long and loving stare, "and you would look so beautiful... in those outfits."

He admits a little bashfully, still with a soft smile on his face.

"Maybe we can go back and you can try some on?" He asks while tugging at the hem of your nightie you're currently wearing.

This one is cute enough, he thinks, with the way it barely covers your ass and reveals your sumptuous thighs to him. It makes him drool. He places his hands there now, on your thighs, absentmindedly squeezing.

You nod and say how much you'd like that.

"Good, oh good, I'd love it too," he gets excited now, picturing you in all the pretty lingerie sets his heart desires, until he hears a little squeak from your mouth and you tug on his brawny wrists.

"Ow- ow! Yuji~ y-you're hurting me-"

During his daydreaming, he started grabbing your thighs much too hard, simply forgetting to hold back the strength in his hands.

He jumps suddenly then starts caressing your legs.

"Oh-! I, I'm sorry, bunny, I didn't mean to-" he coos and dips his head down to inspect your legs with a sad look on his face. You tell him it's okay and stroke his soft pink strands till he's holding you closer and murmuring apologies into your chest. You hold the back of his neck, stroking down to the hefty muscle of his shoulders and pressing your body into him till he looks up at you with a little pout on his lips and asks-

"Can I kiss them better?"

You smile and let him sit you down on the sofa, watching him drop to his knees and stroke your legs, pressing his warm mouth over your thighs.

Megumi has been in the kitchen all this time, tidying up after dinner and whipping up some cream for dessert (mainly for you and Yuji). But now your soft chatting has ceased his ears prick at the silence and he wonders what you're up to.

Now Yuji is getting carried away. He's kissed every inch of your warm thighs, taking your soft skin in his calloused grip, licking you and squeezing you softly. His gaze has gone all mellow now you're in his hands and he starts kissing between your thighs, where he didn't even touch before, nuzzling his nose over your satin skin and spreading your legs wider. You just sigh softly, completely adoring all of his sweet affections, until he brings his mouth to settle over the warm centre of your pussy. Your skimpy panties still cover you up, but that doesn't stop him from kissing and licking you there, feeling the moist patch beneath the material and now starting to moan into you.

"You smell so good."

He pushes his head closer and buries himself between your thighs, stuffing his big hands under your ass to pull you into him and you hear a sudden tearing sound.

It makes you jump, but his soothing words comfort you till you sink into the sofa and let him do what he wants with you.

"Oh, we'll have to go to that store now, bunny-" he coos and shreds the last of your panties, tugging the remaining string out of his way, "get you some new pretty panties, hm? Can I choose them? 'Gumi can choose some too, right?"

You nod and watch his tongue slide over his lips, before returning all of his attention to your pussy that's finally bare for him to lick. He sticks his tongue out and connects to your lips with a groan, now feeling your sweetness over his tongue. He eats you till you're dizzy and squirting all over his stubbly chin.

He lets go and pants softly, licking up the mess and trailing his half lidded eyes over your body. He's so entranced with watching you squirm under his gentle tonguing that he didn't hear Megumi step into the living room. But you see him approach and he's carrying something, with a little smile on his face now he can see why you two were so quiet.

He gets closer, watching Yuji continue as if he weren't even there, and reaches out to you where you sit, with your legs open in Yuji's strong hands.

"Here," you notice he has something between his fingers as he brings them closer to your parted lips, "want a strawberry, bunny?"

You lick your lips then open your mouth for the juicy treat and he watches you with delight, nibbling on the soft fruit until it's all gone. He sees a bit of the pinkish juice trickle down your chin and he swipes it away lovingly.

"You want some dessert, Yuji?"

He asks his friend who's still enjoying his own dessert between your legs, but he moans in agreement and your owner heads back to the kitchen. He'd love to see this, anyway. Since he can't eat so much cream and knows you and Yuji both love it, he'll treat you two and watch you having fun.

He comes back with whipped cream in a bowl, holds a spoon out and tells you it might feel a little cold.

Yuji moves his head back with a string of slick juice connecting him to your pussy and watches the blob of cream land on your clit. You giggle and shiver at the wet feeling and Yuji looks up at his friend, thanking him then dives into his new meal.

He hums with excitement, lapping the cream from your sweet folds and telling Megumi to add more. He spoons it on, with a strawberry this time, which Yuji nimbly slides down your lips and presses into your hole. It feels funny, but the fruit slides in a little and Yuji giggles and slurps it right back out again, munching on it and swallowing every bit of juice down.

You have your fun with the dessert and Megumi steps away to clean up again, only to re-enter the living room with you sitting on Yuji's lap, this time stuffed full of his cock. He couldn't wait a second longer and loved how your eyes nearly crossed when he slipped his tongue inside you- he just had to get back on the sofa and pull you onto him, getting your pussy stretched over his fat dick.

"Yeah- yeah, bunny, oh you're so good at taking me now, huh? Got used to me really good, like you're mine~" he presses needy kisses to your throat and pulls your nightie off, licking your supple tits and telling you how crazy you make him.

But you can see it now, in the way he's starting to sigh your name and chant over and over-

"My bunny, mine, mine~"

-he's starting to forget who's watching. Without thinking, he keeps this up and opens his mouth to suck on your neck.

"Yuji," his best friend's voice cuts through the haze of his arousal, causing him to slow down the pumping motions of his cock.

Megumi has been very patient with his best friend. He knows that you adore him, he knows how Yuji feels about you, and he allows your horny antics for the most part.

"Yuji."

"Do I have to remind you... who she belongs to?"

It's not jealousy that drives him. Oh no, Yuji is the only other man who's lucky enough to touch you, and he'll let him fuck you till the sun burns out. But he just wants to remind you both of his power as an owner.

Your owner.

"Bunny, up."

He commands and you jump off Yuji's cock without hesitation, leaving the poor man moaning and grabbing onto his thighs. He doesn't grab for you. He can't hurt you again, so he keeps his hands to himself.

"Come."

"Cum, oh- good girl- on command? You're such a pretty little thing, and so obedient, too. Fuck, sometimes I think you're too perfect to share."

He spares his friend a glance, where he's leaning heavily against your bedroom wall with his dick in his hand. He knows he should've showed some self restraint and tugged his shorts back up, but he couldn't help following you and touching himself to the sights of you obeying your owner's every command.

"Bounce on my dick- yeah, oh well done, bunny-" he praises you and strokes your body while you move up and down.

"Now come here," he lifts you off and pats the bed, watching you crawl onto the mattress eagerly, "I'm gonna give you a special treat, ok?"

He gets on top of you and throws your legs over his shoulders, sinking himself in inch by inch and pressing his strong body down on you.

"You love this position, don't you baby?" He coos and Yuji starts to whimper, seeing how you're being folded in half by his best friend.

"Oh, sounds like someone else does too," Megumi muses and looks the pink haired man up and down before returning all of his attention to you.

"Now, for your treat," he hums with the corner of his mouth forming a coy smile.

"Treat?" You repeat happily, looking up at him as if he's your whole world. Which he is. And Megumi knows he is, and it makes him so proud.

"Yeah~" he's all the way in, struggling to control himself now he can feel the tight pressure of your sweet, wet pussy.

"I'm gonna give it to you hard, ok?"

You gasp and smile, eyes sparkling with excitement.

"M-Megumi- owner- owner-!!!" You squeal and have a dizzy look on your face before he's even started.

"Calm- calm down, bunny- I can feel you squeezing me, you're gonna make me cum-" he gives you a breathy laugh and then asks if you're ready, at which you nod and Yuji watches in awe.

He places a hand on your head, offering a buffer against the headboard, leans in close and starts up a rhythm of hard pumping. He starts off slow, but each thrust is more untamed than the last, and when he gets faster you slam a hand over your mouth to stop you from screaming. Your spare hand grabs the bedsheets for dear life and you watch your owner's descent into mindless fucking.

Sometimes you think Megumi fucks you like he's the one in heat, and your little mind starts to wonder how amazing that would be if he had heats, too. You wonder what he would be like. But you're brought right back down to earth again when your owner addresses you.

"Bunny," his voice is low and raspy, "hands on me."

Your little hands immediately release your mouth and the bedsheets and fly to his body. One lands on his chest, the other nestled in his jet black strands.

"Good," he presses his forehead to yours, "good girl."

He sinks into you so hard, with your knees by your ears, pushing closer and closer till you're completely overwhelmed by him and tears start to spill down your cheeks.

"Pretty," he kisses them away gently, "pretty bunny, are you crying because of me?"

"B-be-cause..." your eyes dart down to where he's entering you.

"'cause 'm fucking you too hard?"

You bite your lip, willing him to understand that it isn't too hard, it just feels so good you started crying. You couldn't help it.

"Want me to go easy on you?"

You shake your head rapidly.

"Ah- bunny- y-you're perfect, you know that- letting me fuck you like this~"

The wooden headboard starts smacking into the wall with his thrusts now and the boards start to creak dangerously underneath. You wonder if the bed will last.

He pins you to the mattress, giving you every ounce of pleasure, until you're gasping out that you're going to cum.

"Again? Oh, bunny, you're too good to me," he hums and praises you softly while delivering those forceful bucks of his hips.

Yuji never does it like this, and you start to admit you've been a little wrapped up in all of your soft and sweet sex with him that you may have been neglecting your owner.

"M-missed you-" he can feel you start to pulse and grip him harder now as you get another buzz of pleasure through your cute body. You kiss his pretty face as he guides you through it and he watches with pure adoration as you start to cry and tell him how much you've missed him doing it like this.

"It's okay, it's okay, Yuji come here," he beckons his friend as you come down from your intense high. Megumi lets up a little and starts giving you slower rolls of his hips, grinding his body into you.

"Let's take turns, ok? See how many times we can make you cum tonight, bunny. You can have both of us, alright? You don't have to choose."

Your owner kisses your head and releases you and the two men slide in and out of you all night till they're spent and filling you one final time before collapsing on the mattress either side of you, all flushed and dripping with sweat.

You feel relieved now, knowing that only a little while ago your owner may have got a bit angry with Yuji calling you 'mine'. But he knows only he can give you what you truly need. It's all fun and games with Yuji, but Megumi is your owner and there are certain things that only he can do to you.

yuji | megumi | m.list

2K notes · View notes

targaryenrealnessdarling · 5 months

Text

Quid Pro Quo | Michael Gavey x fem!reader

Summary: After being ditched by her friend at the Trinity College Christmas Party, she finds herself enthralled with learning the language of Michael Gavey | Word Count: 3.8k~ | Warnings below the cut!

Part Two: Carpe Diem Part Three: Veni, Vidi, Vici

warnings: virgin michael, semi-public sexual conduct, oral sex (m receiving), heavy petting

If she has to listen to Professor Wardon swoon over Ancient Greek and how it ‘drove him to pursue his dreams in extending his passion to other students’, she thinks she might actually fall asleep.

She's in a good spot to do so, nestled between two other students, the one on her right seemingly just as bored as her, and conveniently hidden behind a tall, lanky first year, who sits straight, with his head perfectly obscuring hers as he fixes his posture regularly.

Several times throughout, she's checked her watch, and yet the second hand never seems to move an inch.

Professor Wardon is just about to go on a lovesick spiel about Homeric Greek when the lecture concludes with a heaved sigh from every student as they sling their hefty bags over their shoulders.

“Remember I want 2,500 words on Les Liaisons dangereuses in my pigeon hole by next Thursday, before your Christmas parties!”

“Oh joy,” she sighs with a grin to the girl walking shoulder to shoulder beside her as they leave, feeling noticeably lighter knowing that that's their last lecture before Christmas break.

“Christ, you're telling me. I can't be arsed to even right my own name at the moment, nevermind read 18th century fucking French.”

She gives a snort in reply, “Merry Christmas to us, eh? Should do what the French do and have a revolution or something.”

“Yeah, eat our lecturers or something.”

“Alright, I wouldn't go that far.”

“Anyway, I'm off to T Library, see ya, have a good Christmas and don't do anything I wouldn't!”

She waves her off as her friend disappears, the cold air of the outside nipping at her skin that manages to sneak beneath her coat.

Oxford University is not what she imagined at all. She came here very much feeling like an outsider, like there'd been some sort of paperwork mistake and it was supposed to be someone else in her place.

The imposter syndrome seemed difficult to shift, but she'd at least managed to make a couple of friends since starting in September.

Languages had always found her well, and seemingly the only thing she managed to actually understand. People were inconsistent, cruel and fickle. Languages, though they shifted and changed, were firmly rooted in reason and understanding.

As sad as it sounded, conjugating verbs, vowel shifts and rare dialects were the one thing she found herself itching to discover more about. The idea that there was more to uncover seemed exciting and scary at the same time.

And Oxford University was the best place she could be to do that.

All that said, her eagerness to get involved with her studies had left her social life with much to be desired.

In the first two weeks of university alone, she'd gained one friend and lost a boyfriend. And while they were drifting apart anyway, it was still a relatively large blow to her self-esteem and her confidence to actually get out there, socialise and make the most of her first year of freedom.

The only friends she'd made were those on her course. Priya, who'd just abandoned her to stick her nose in books about the Great Vowel Shift, and Anya, who…to be honest, rarely left her room. Seeming more like a ghost than anything else.

It was a wonder she was still a student, with how often she missed classes.

What Anya does do best, is manage to somehow rise out of her pit to drag her to Christmas parties that aren't even run by their college.

Which is why she finds herself somehow at Trinity College campus, where she eyes several scantily clad women wearing revealing Santa costumes adorned with itchy tinsel.

Anya is the sort of girl who, well, every girl kind of wants to be. So much so she sort of wonders why she hangs around with her. She's pretty, fit and fucking clever. Her only downfall is her taste in men, so often being Oxford pretty boys.

So it is absolutely no surprise at all, when two jägerbombs in, Anya has somehow slipped into the arms of one aforementioned Oxford pretty boy, seeming in every way a clone of the previous, with the exception of the way he pairs his Ayia Nappa top with his low rise jeans and the only effort to conform to theme, is a pair of plastic reindeer antlers on his head bobbling side to side.

She grimaces as she watches them suck each other's faces off in a dark corner of the room, ‘Stay Another Day’ by East 17 blaring with a cheap crackle through the speakers as she makes her way through the bodies to somewhere quiet.

She sighs, nursing the rum and coke Anya had sloppily poured her in one hand as she closes the door behind her, shutting out the drunken squeals and cheers for the peace of a quiet common room.

It's still decorated, she notes, but empty. Maybe she could lurk here until Anya is done, if she ever will be.

The deep clack of a pool ball being sucked into a socket makes her jump, realising perhaps that she was not actually alone, as she'd previously thought.

The cool light hung above the battered pool table illuminates his deep red jumper, and the first thing she sees is the way he leans on one leg, standing straight as if he was imitating the rigid pool cue leant before him. The yellow lined detailing around the cuffs highlights his small wrists and big hands that stretch from it as he rubs blue chalk onto the tip.

Her eyes trail up the back of his neck, past the lazy waves of dark blonde hair, clearly due a trim at some point, and to his face, even from this angle able to see how his features sit. With a sharp nose and jawline, and black skinny glasses perched above his cheekbones.

She almost laughs at the way he's almost as tall as the light that illuminates the table, half-thinking that she might never have seen such a strange and yet interesting looking guy.

“Didn't fancy the party?” she finally says, alerting him to her presence.

She doesn't quite expect the way the light bounces off his sharp features, sinking his blue eyes in shadow as his head turns to her with an expression of boredom.

“Not particularly, no.”

His voice is lighter than she thought it would be and part of her wonders if he's putting it on. He presses his glasses further up his nose before assessing his next shot, stalking around the table.

“Why's that?”

This time, when he answers, he doesn't look at her. He simply leans down, and aims.

“Not. Fucking. Invited,” he replies bitterly, missing a yellow, “that's why.”

Her fingertips moisten against the glass as the ice begins to melt, but she pays it no mind.

“So you're lurking about in here instead.”

He plays with the cue in one hand, barely sparing a second glance, a bitter, quiet laugh escaping him.

He misses another red before he heaves a sigh, straightening to look at her again.

“You here alone as well?” he asks dispassionately.

She smiles lazily and shrugs.

“My mate is…a bit preoccupied, if you know what I mean,” she replies, taking an awkward sip of the now watered down drink, “like you, I don't really think these are my thing either.”

He seems to consider her statement for a moment.

“Why come then?”

She shrugs again, “trying to be sociable.”

“With those vapid cunts? Good luck getting any intelligent conversation out of them.”

She watches as he picks up the blue chalk again, applying more when he doesn't even need it in sort of a nervous gesture, his blue eyes averted and pretending to assess his next move.

There's something about him. How judgemental he is and how he forms his words. Perhaps she hadn't expected this sort of guy to be so outwardly honest with his opinions, and for the most part, she can't say she disagrees with the message, just the way in which he said it.

“Can I play?” She asks, leaning over to put her drink down.

“What are you reading?” He asks so suddenly, and out of context, that she does a double take.

She raises her eyebrows, smiling, “Does my answer depend on if I get to play or not?”

There's no answer from him. Shocker of the century.

“Modern Languages.”

“Fucking hell,” he groans.

She's a bit too happy and dizzy on rum to get defensive.

“Is that one of those subjects that sounds way less interesting than it actually ends up being?”

She gives a breathy laugh, “just like languages.”

He hums, as if the answer didn't impress him, “more of a science and numbers man myself, obviously.”

For a moment, it's lost on her why it's obvious.

He takes a sip of his, no doubt, stale beer, wetting his lips after, “Your name is?”

She narrows her eyes teasingly, smiling as she leans against the table, “quid pro quo.”

She enjoys the brief confusion on his face, before he realises what she's said.

“Okay, okay, Michael.”

She smiles, “See? You know what that meant. Who says you're not a languages man?”

It's the first time he seems to duck his head, hiding a blush she's barely able to see.

“I don’t think the Ancient Roman idea of fair exchange warrants the title of ‘languages man’.”

The blue chalk comes off on his hands as he fiddles nervously with it.

“So, am I bestowed the privilege of playing?”

He raises his head, and she can tell he's trying his damndest to not let a little beer-induced smile pass his lips.

“I suppose I could allow you to embarrass yourself in front of me for a bit, if you insist. We'll have to share a cue though.”

She doesn't have the heart to tell him her uncle was a pool player, and so by extension, has played pool for most of her upbringing. Rather, he finds out himself when she pots three yellows in a row.

It's either the alcohol or pity that kicks in when she misses the fourth, holding the cue for him to take.

“You being good at pool wasn't on my bingo card,” he mutters with some nervous teasing in his voice.

They go back and forth for a bit, missing some, potting some, with interspersed conversation between.

“Thought you might have been a Norman-no -mates, like me,” he says quietly as he watches her assess her next shot. Bending to aim.

“You're not far off,” she replies, “first fortnight I was down a boyfriend. Since then, I've only been up two friends and one of them is in the other room having ditched me for the shag of a lifetime.”

She doesn't see it until after she takes the shot, the way his eyes flit back to hers quickly as she rights herself to stand.

Was he checking me out?

As if he was lagging, he only laughs now at what she's said.

“What about you?” She asks, “no girls, or boys, on the scene?”

He blushes a lot when she asks that. And she can't help the fluttering in her chest she feels that someone might find her attractive.

“Can’t say there is.”

She stands close, passing the cue to him, electricity warming her fingertips as she grazes his.

“And why not?”

He scoffs bitterly, “have you seen me?” he mutters, wandering around the table, suddenly unable to shake the feeling of her gaze, “Not too many girls out there looking for the stereotypical nerdy math boy, really.”

“Hm,” she hums, “how unfortunate for them.”

He sinks a red, picking at his red jumper.

“Yeah, they're clearly missing out, huh?”

The bitter and self-deprecating tone of his voice makes her heart sink a bit. He's not a bad looking guy, she thinks. His style, glasses, hair, she would almost say look actually quite cute.

Maybe that's the thing he doesn't like.

“No interest? Or is maths the only one for you?”

He misses the next shot and sighs, holding the cue for her to take, “clearly, the only one I need.”

She steps close to retrieve, taking her time, looking up at him as she does. At this proximity, Michael sucks in a breath quietly, his lips, which she can't say she'd noticed until right this moment, parting and his Adam's apple bobbing as his eyes flit rapidly down her.

A warmth swirls in her gut at that.

She circles the table, “what about in the past?”

He leans against the other side, his hand on the cushion, long fingers splayed on the green fabric. She has to shake her head to break her own trance.

“Can’t say my love life has exactly been a roaring success, honestly.”

The way he says it.

She wouldn't be surprised if he was…

Oh.

“So what? You're focussed on your studies?”

She misses. Too set on the conversation rather than the game.

He gives a mirthless laugh, “Sure.”

She rounds the table, holding the cue for him to take, but when he reaches for it, she pulls back with a smirk.

“So we've established you're not one for languages,” she starts, and Michael furrows his brows in confusion, “have you ever really asked for what you want? Ever?”

He seems to miss what she's trying to say.

“Have you been with a girl?”

At that, his eyes widen slightly, a blush crawling up his neck to the tips of his ears, cheeks near matching his shirt.

She knows she has her answer.

“Well…I…no, I haven't…”

At chest height, she can see the way his breathing elevates.

“And, hypothetically, if a girl expressed interest. What would you say?”

His lips part for a good few seconds before he gives a reply, “I’d…I um…I guess it depends who…”

It's like he's afraid she'll make fun of him for it.

“What about, if it was me?” She asks, her voice lowering as she reaches out to pick some lint off his jumper, like it's the most normal thing in the world. His body goes all rigid as she does.

This isn't normal in his world.

Michael swallows thickly, “you're not taking the Mick out of me, are you?”

She shakes her head, “I just want you to feel comfortable asking for what you want.”

For someone who had so often thought about it, now when faced with the situation, he feels as if he doesn't know what to do or say.

She's still stood with the cue in one hand, close enough so that when she shifts her weight from foot to foot, her knee grazes his leg. It's interesting to watch him think so deeply about it. Convinced he's probably never thought of anything so much in his life.

“What if what I want is…you?”

The tension deepens like the tone and volume of his voice. And without effort, a smile finds its way to her face when she looks at his expression. He's frozen stiff, for once, not knowing what to say.

So nothing shocks her more when he grabs the pool cue as a means of pulling her to him, and he has to duck considerably to press his lips clumsily to hers. He's eager, that much is true, but it's clear he's inexperienced. But instead of causing discomfort, she thinks it's quite endearing.

The pool cue clangs to the floor as she braces her hands on his shoulders and chest, guiding his lips with her own in a slower, more careful movement. She feels the edge of the pool table bite into her lower back when he presses her against it, clearly excited, if the hardness that's flush to her stomach is anything to go by.

The hands she had been staring at not half an hour ago are bruising as they trace her waist and hips, with a grip tight enough to tell her exactly how much he's enjoying the experience.

For a moment, they're not in a common room alone, against a pool table, with ‘Cheetah-licious Christmas’ playing in the room over, the bass of which rumbles through the floor and into their chests.

The kiss lasts a long while, and she has a feeling he wants to savour it as if it's the last time he will ever be able to do it.

One of her hands snakes its way to the back of his head, fingers gripping at his hair to pull him closer as either of them tilt to aid more contact between them. And at the little amount of tugging, Michael whines into her mouth, prompting him to pull away.

He looks halfway between mortified and pleased, his glasses having skewed to one side with the eagerness of what they'd done. And she laughs a bit, reaching up to fix them, which seems to make the mortification fade somewhat from his face.

Michael looks down between them, where his obvious erection is pressed to her, and pulls away slightly with a scarlet blush.

“Shit - sorry-”

“It's fine,” she reassures, “no need to be embarrassed.”

The words alone would be enough, if her hand hadn't snaked between their bodies to brush her palm over him. And if it were possible, his flush spreads to his neck, words failing him once more.

Her eyes flicker up to his, their lips all kiss-bruised and swollen.

“If you don't want to-”

“No, no, I want to…” he says, immediately embarrassed about how quick it was.

She smiles, one hand palming him through his jeans and the other trailing up his chest, “Sit down.”

He backs up to sit on a nearby sofa, watching with a kind of adoration as she makes space between his legs, her eyes glimmering at him as she slowly undoes his belt.

“If at any time, you need to stop, tell me.”

He gives a nervous laugh, his stomach muscles tightening, wondering probably if this is really happening to him, “Not sure I will want to…”

She smiles reassuringly, watching as his lips part as she palms him through his boxers, trying to suppress how impressed she is with his size.

It's always the skinny white guys.

“Well, the offer's there.” She smirks, pulling him from his boxers, Michael gives a suffered breath, feeling her touch on him and also her breath so close. He almost feels dizzy. The thought of this happening in this situation, with a party going on next door, is dangerous and exciting in equal measure.

She knows he has very limited experience, so decides not to tease him too much.

Michael gasps softly as she licks at the base of him, drawing a wet line with her tongue along the vein underneath, all the way to the tip. She concentrates her efforts slightly on the sensitive spot there before closing her mouth over the head of his cock, sucking gently.

She feels the way his thighs tense, and the blue disappearing as he closes his eyes. His fists are tight beside him, knuckles white, like he doesn't know if he should touch her or not. All he knows right now is that this feeling is brand new, and the sensation is so much already.

She pulls herself from him to run her tongue over his length, one hand moving to his hand, to encourage him. His blue eyes crack open just a bit, to understand what she's trying to tell him.

And she fights the urge to smile as his longer fingers swipe across her temple into her hair, his touch tender, soft and unsure as he holds her by it.

Her lips wrap around him once more, pushing him further into her mouth, taking him steadily and slowly at first. Michael's hips move barely, chasing the friction that he's getting on his cock when she bobs her head on him and hollows her cheeks.

He watches with parted lips and warm cheeks, moving her hair away so he can watch himself disappear into her mouth over and over. Her hand massages the rest of him, giving him two unique sensations in one, something that earns her a deep, throaty moan.

When her eyes open to look at him, he thinks his heart stops in his chest for a split second. He closes his eyes, not able to bear the way she looks with his cock in her mouth if she looks right at him, feeling that if he did any longer he wouldn't last.

The sounds he emits don't stop there as she increases her pace on him, pressing her tongue to the underside of him and taking him deeper into her throat, humming around him at the heady scent of his skin.

It's only when she takes him as far as he will go, working hard to control her gag reflex that he gives the first genuine buck of his hips, tightening in her hair and a far-too-loud moan. If anyone in the next room were quiet and paying attention, they'd likely know exactly what was going on.

“Fuck-”

It only serves to spur her on as she pulls back, moving in a more steady, quick rhythm, that she is sure Michael is loving judging by the rate of his moans and the way he chokes out his words.

His stomach clenches and unclenches, his high creeping up on him as her mouth tightens around his length.

“Shit - you need to - I'm gonna -” he chokes, weakly tugging her hair in an effort to pull her mouth off him before he cums.

If she didn't have his cock in her mouth she'd smile.

Her hand squeezes the base of him, and Michael throws his head back slightly, a long shuddered and choked moan reverberating through his chest. She swears she feels his thighs shake as she stills, warm ropes of his cum taste musky at the back of her throat.

His loud moan is followed quickly by more softer ones as her throat contracts to swallow as much as she can, briefly increasing the tension and friction around his sensitive length.

When she pulls off him with a pleased sigh, wiping her mouth with the back of her hand, Michael sits up slightly, having to gather his breath.

“Fucking hell…”

She takes it as a compliment and rises to her feet, her hands smoothing her skirt back down.

And she squeaks in delight as Michael quickly tucks himself away, barely doing up his jeans buttons before backing her up to the pool table again, kissing her fervently.

“What about you…do I…” he starts when he breaks away, panting softly. She smiles at the notion but shakes her head. This experience was for him alone.

“Not right now, don't feel inclined to,” she reassured, her hands on his chest, feeling the way his heart is beating rapidly beneath it.

“Right now?” he asks with a quiet, unsure tone, “does that mean…there's gonna be a next time?”

His tone is careful, and yet, she is able to detect something like desire there. An excitement for more, without seeming too eager so that he's not let down if she says no. Something that makes it clear he is 100% on board.

She bites back a grin.

“Quid Pro Quo, Michael.”

General Taglist: @aemondsfavouritebastard @bellstwd @blairfox04 @buckybarnesb-tch @castellomargot @hb8301 @jamespotterismydaddy @mochi-rose @natty2017 @nenelysian @randomdragonfires @risefallrise @thelittleswanao3 @theoneeyedprince @thetrueblackheart @tsujifreya @urmomsgirlfriend1 @valeskafics @virtualsweetsqueen @watercolorsky @fan-goddess

#michael gavey #michael gavey x reader #michael gavey x you #michael gavey x y/n #michael gavey x oc #michael gavey fanfic #michael gabey fanfiction #michael gavey fic #michael gavey smut #michael gavey x female reader #michael gabey x fem!reader #saltburn fanfiction #ewan mitchell #ewan mitchell characters #saltburn fic #michael gavey saltburn

1K notes · View notes

sluttsumu · 6 months

Text

DOUBLE TROUBLE

.ೃ࿐ feat. atsumu + osamu miya

in which: the twins have a little bet, and you’re their next target. who can make you cum the most on halloween night without anyone knowing, keep quiet virgin or you’ll get caught.

warning: 18+, college!au, fratboy!inarizaki, oblivious!reader, non+ dubcon/peer pressure, threesome, corruptive thoughts, misogyny (?), manipulation, drugs (molly), vaginal fingering, vaginal penetration, unprotected, petname: angel, oral (f!receiving + m!receiving), virginity loss, exhibitionism + voyeurism, implied orgy (with suna), sunaosa TEASE, they’re sleazy hoes. wc: 2k

ೃ࿐ ki’s note: this is fic was supposed to kickstart my kinktober series. i hope you love this as much as i do because i had the best time writing it! in my mind it’s still october 😭 divider: @cafekitsune

two devils, one angel, and fate. being a virgin sacrifice wasn’t necessarily on your halloween bucket list for this year.

— ♡︎ —

“can’t think of anyone to bring ‘samu ?” atsumu piqued, osamu is supposed to be the smart one.

the infamous twins had been thinking for some time on who to invite to their annual halloween party.

there were plenty of guests, but they needed someone special for the night.

atsumu’s fucked half of the bimbos from his fan club, meanwhile osamu was never satisfied with any of his groupies.

“well,” he starts. “i have an idea.” the light bulb in his head flickered before finally going off when he thought of the perfect girl. the dainty little college freshman whom he sees walking around campus all dolled up.

“who’s that girl that we always see with sunarin?” he ponders, in attempt to remember your name. atsumu’s eyes lit up when he realized. he knew exactly who his brother was talking about.

osamu really was a genius.

“y/n..” his tone was unsure, but curious nonetheless. osamu shot a finger gun “bingo.” indicating that his atsumu was right on the money. they paused, staring at one another as if they were reading each others minds. twin telepathy surely was a blessing. if they were both thinking correctly it seems like they’ve got a target.

*incoming facetime from; suna rintaro*

“yes suna?” you answer holding the phone above your face. “what’re you doing tomorrow?” the abrupt question never threw you off anymore, it was common for suna taking you on all kinda of spontaneous adventures on and off campus.

“ ‘m not doing anything, gonna watch horror movies and eat candy.” suna eyed you feigning disgust, what lame plans. “absolutely not..” he scoffs, “the twins invited you to their party tomorrow and you’re going.” the miya twins were mutual friends and have been known to throw some awesome ragers from time to time, how could you decline such an offer?

“i don’t have a costume???” honestly you were trying to find any excuse possible to lessen your chances of coming home wasted on halloween night. but suna had a solution to everything, even this. “wear white, i’ll sort out the rest.” he hung up after the condescending message, leaving you to piece together his surprise.

white, the colour of purity and innocence. nothing is innocent about a college party, especially because,

halloween was the one night a year a girl could dress like a total slut, and no one could say anything about it.

a firm knock was set on your dorm room door. “let’s go” his eyes fixated as you opened the door. suna mildly regrets not taking up the twins’ offer to join them on their escapade tonight, especially with the way that dress hugs your body. he quickly releases himself from the dirty thoughts.

“okay, what’s my costume? you said wear white.” suna’s hand rises from his side revealing a halo. makes sense why he told you to wear white now. it wasn’t until you took in his costume that really made you understand his choice.

he’s dressed in a red button up, except the buttons weren’t being used at all. the devil horns stuck in his hair confirmed the unoriginal costume idea. a few days back he mentioned matching costumes with the rest of his fraternity, and if you had to see the rest of them like this, than you were sure that attending this party was worth it.

the house was loud, as much as it was crowded, suna’s hand around your wrist is the only thing preventing you from getting caught in the ocean of people.

“sunarin! we’re over here.” pi kappa alpha (ΠΚΑ) was one of seven frats at your university, and was definitely the hottest. pretty, rich boys with the world at their disposal. everyone knew this but that never stopped girls from clinging onto them, after all osamu’s arms and atsumu’s abs— focus!

“ah, you made it.” osamu exclaimed opening his arms for a particularly tight hug. you hugged all of them, each cologne scent different from the last. “mind if we steal rin for a minute? won’t be long, promise.” atsumu’s tone of voice couldn’t have been more condescending, talking to you so sweet and saccharin. you nodded, shooting the quintet a small smile, before going to find a drink.

“an angel, cute.” atsumu watched your back was you walked away into a crowd of people. all that clouded his thoughts were all the things he wanted to do to you throughout the night. “get yer head intha game. what are the rules?” osamu chuckled, it was no doubt that he was having the same thoughts as his brother. that’s for sure.

“ ‘ts 10:30, whoever can make her cum the most before midnight first wins. unless you fuck her that is.. she’s a virgin so if you manage to to take her virginity you automatically win. get caught and you have to restart.” the night is young and the rules were set, but there was one question unanswered, whats the prize for a game such as this?

money of course. sex and money have been interchangeable for as long as mankind can remember, no difference here. a thousand dollars put up by each member, totalling to five thousand. winner takes all, loser gets nothing. may the best twin win.

atsumu wasted no time following you to the kitchen hearing the laughs from his friends behind. unfortunate for him bokuto caught your attention a little too quickly. he watched the two of you laugh and introduce yourselves to one another. it wouldn’t go on for much longer, not if atsumu could help it.

“bo-kun! do me a favor would’ya?” he said, slinging an arm over your shoulder. “get some more ice for the cooler, ‘ts intha basement.”

in boy world, this was a territorial interaction meaning; get the fuck out of here.

meanwhile in girl world, you didn’t think anything of it.

bokuto cheerfully agreed uttering “nice meeting you!” before sliding past the crowd of people to go fetch that ice.

“cute costume miya.” you look up to see him above your shoulder. he unhooks his arm from your side, leaning up against the counter. “not too bad yourself. you look,” he pauses for a mere few seconds. thoughts of you and how innocent you look plagued his mind, costume doesn’t help either. something in him was excited to taint that, you’d look so much prettier with your makeup smudged and begging him to make you cum, he thought.

“pretty,” he smiled, eyes shifting around your lips, and neck then back to your eyes. “you look really fucking pretty.”

“nights still young, you like games?” you tilted your head at the question. a suspicious question but how could anyone say no to him. “dependsss..” you drag out the word, tone laced with hesitation. this was all one big game, that you unfortunately didn’t know you were apart of, throwing another in the mix couldn’t hurt.

“how do ya feel about suck and blow?”

—♡︎—

suna forcefully offered up kita’s amex for the game, safe to say that he’s not happy about it.

the game rules were simple; suck and blow, on a card that is. pass the card mouth to mouth without dropping it. drop it and make out with the next person in front of everyone and spend an additional 10 minutes in an enclosed space. sounds easy right? it wasn’t a pi kappa alpha party without this tradition, they have a separate room dedicated for games such as these.

you watched intensely as the card made its rounds over and over you successfully received and passed it on. you were also standing between atsumu and bokuto, yikes! the card was making its way back around and like before it was just a matter of sucking and blowing, until you were locking lips with one of the hottest guys on campus. atsumu ‘dropped the card’ by accident, catalyzing the makeout sesh between the two of you.

it’s hot, it’s sloppy, it’s fucking miya atsumu.

you feel his smile on your lips as he slips his tongue in between yours, aiming for your bottom lip. the whooping, and whistling among the group was enough to encourage the egotism within you both to put on a nice show for everyone. your nails intertwining in his undercut, while his arms hug your waist.

“okay okay,” kita pushes, removing the two of you off of each other. “10 minutes, you know the drill.”

the frat brothers exchange a glance, one of many kita has shared with his little since atsumu started college.

the amount of girls that have survived that room, godspeed.

hearing the door close behind you was almost frightening, even after the spectacle you put on for everyone just now. it wasn’t until you took a few steps in you noticed this is a bedroom, not your average stuffy coat closet.

“suna teach you to kiss like that or what?” he teases, watching you stare at him in disbelief. “can’t believe he hasn’t fucked you yet.”

guess i’ll be the first, he thought.

suna? fucking you? confusion was an understatement really. unbeknownst to you they all thought you were sunas secret fuck buddy till he told them you were untouched.

atsumu almost forgot, and the realization ran through his blood with pure mischief. he was ready to get his hands on you and play with his toy of the night.

“let’s have some fun, yea?” he quips, walking towards you. “fun like what?” unintentionally you take a step back, the two of you flowing in a seamless b-line towards the bed as he goes forward and you go back.

“you’re a big girl right? in college now. ya know what big girls do?” his tone was informative signalling that there’s more to his mini monologue. “big college girls…kiss, and suck, and fuck boys.”

the smooth of your calves hit the sheets.

“a-atsumu i’m—” you’re a stuttering mess, and he finds it adorable.

“you’re what?” he mocks, lifting his voice up an octave to replicate you. it was only a matter of seconds before you were pushed onto the bed with his body caging yours beneath him.

it was all happening so fast, it’s not that you didn’t want to but this has never happened before. being stuck in a room with a guy especially an experienced one was never on you to-do list for today.

atsumu’s done this to many girls. he’s used to fucking bitches every week and you were no different. he never looses and he’s damn sure nothing will change that tonight.

“i’ve never done this before…” shame drowns your conscience as you confess what you thought was a secret. little did you know, he knew.

“s’okay,” his lips pecked against your jaw lightly, he could feel how tense you were but curious as well. “just wanna make you feel good, hmm?” you could feel atsumu’s hand creeping between your thighs though his eyes never leaving yours. this look on your face, the look of a virgin, never gets old for him.

the inquisitive look of “maybe it’s not so bad” staring back at him as he pulls your panties to the side running his fingers along your wet folds. you didn’t protest, or squirm, or defy, you just laid there beady eyes staring, legs spread for him awaiting his touch.

simultaneously, his fingers slide into you with ease while sharing a kiss to keep you quiet, earning a soft moan onto his lips. your body can’t help but concentrate at the foreign feeling of someone else other than yourself fingering you. “ahhh—! s-slow down ‘tsumu, too much!”

“no can do angel, got a lot ridin’ on ya.” completely dismissing your feelings, he continues to pump his fingers into your leaking cunt. “hurts..” you whine. “atsumu it hurts!”

“don’t lie ta me pretty, i can feel you clenching ‘round me.” your face flushed at his words, fluttering around his fingers. besides the slight discomfort it felt so fucking good, you really couldn’t get enough of it.

the humiliation you felt hearing the lewd squelching of his digits fingerfucking you was apparent. you watched in awe as he sped up, arm now jackhammering in and out of you at an ruthless pace. “fuckfuckfuck!” you cry, eyes brimming with tears.

atsumu traps your lips in a messy kiss, tasting a mixture alcohol on each others tongues. whines and whimpers escape fall from your lips onto his at the feeling of the coil in your stomach about to break. the euphoria that overcomes your body when your legs begin to tremble, thighs squeezing around his hand, your virgin cunny covers his fingers in sticky cum.

but his assault on your pussy doesn’t stop there, he’s still going; fucking you through your orgasm. “can’t stop there, you can give me another one baby, know you can.”

“no! c-can’t take it! i—” his hand quickly cups around your lips, muffling any sound that dares to come out of your mouth. time’s almost up and atsumu would throw more than a fit if he got caught and had to restart already.

he could feel it again, your pussy clenching around his fingers. atsumu continued at his gruelling pace, with a slick smile on his face. It was so cute seeing you like this, half an hour ago you walked into this party as an innocent little thing, and now he had you exactly where he wanted you — under him with his fingers buried inside of you, on your second orgasm.

“cumming… ‘m cumming—!” you mumble under the weight of his hand, eyes fluttering shut. “atta-fucking-girl angel.” your chest heaved and knees buckled while you creamed on the blondes fingers once more this time at full force, making you see stars before he pulled out of you.

“wasn’t so hard now was it?” he smiled sucking your slick off of his fingers. atsumu is now leading by two points and cocky was an understatement, he can feel himself growing hard watching your body go limp against the sheets. if he had the time, he’d take you right then and there but there was always an opportunity for that.

“make yourself decent before you come out.” was the last thing he said to you, chuckling while the door clicked shut behind him.

get yourself together! the sound of your own voice mentally cursing you was enough to spring you back to your feet, pulling your dress down, and fixing your hair. luckily for you, everyone continued their conversations, dancing, and games as you crept out the room exhaling heavily with relief.

a few eyes lingered, especially kita’s. he peered at you from afar, while atsumu whispered in his ear. he raised the red solo cup with an upward tilt of his head before smirking in your direction, taking a sip from the cup.

frat boys are just the equivalent to mean girls.

hell, it hasn’t even been five minutes and he’s already going around telling everyone. you couldn’t bare to see it really, causing you to relocate somewhere else in the house, the stairs.

you sat on the wooden steps, eyes glued onto your phone screen. the feeling of someone walking down was evident as the hardwood took a dip at the weight, it was osamu.

he pondered, swirling the liquid courage in his hand. how could he get you on his white linen sheets? he thought. osamu smirked at the idea that popped into his head soon after remembering the common denominator between his bed and that dress you’re wearing.

starring at your back from a few steps above, his eyes moveded to suna who was situated mere meters away from where you sat. he feigns tipping his cup, eyes pointing down to where you sat then back to the brunette.

it was genius, if he ruins that pretty little dress of yours you’ll have no choice but to take it off.

“do it.” suna mouthed covering his words with a cupped hand.

the weight of someone walking down the stairs returns after having paused, you didn’t think much of it until alcohol poured down your shoulder and into your bra from above you.

“sorry angel! that was my bad.” osamu quips, downing the rest of his cup.

“you’ve got to be kidding me..”

“relaaax,” he drawls before reassuring that “you can come change up here.”

—♡︎—

osamu scanned his closet looking for one of his old flings’ clothes murmuring, “no-no-no-too big-too small— damn i should call her..” as he looks through the assortment of clothing.

you waited on his bed partly disgusted at the fact that these clothes were equivalent to trophies.

“check that drawer ta’ your left for something.” he gestures a waving hand, pointing to the side table next to his bed.

the drawer was less then helpful, containing: condoms, an agent provocateur set (brand new, mind you), a bottle of dior sauvage, and a miniature plastic bag with two smiley face pills in it.

he has drugs just laying in his room?

“what’re these?” prodding at the drugs you ask, dangling the bag between delicate fingers.

he turns to face you, smirking when he sees what caught your curiosity. “a pretty girl named, molly.” osamu banged a girl with that name now that he thinks about it.

“you guys seriously take these?” eyes narrowing at the tiny pill analyzing it’s appearance, but wanting to know more at the same time. “are they fun?”

osamu closes the closet door, leaning against the frame with his arms crossed. his attention is focused elsewhere when you display genuine interest in the party drug.

“wanna find out?” he asks with the tilt of his head.

fuck around and find out was an understatement, getting fucked after finding out was more accurate really.

“fuuuuck ‘samu..” your manicure runs through silver hair, as he messily laps at your cunt.

every flick of his tongue making your knees buckle, the pleasure was overwhelming your lower half as he teased your clit with the tip his tongue.

you couldn’t get over how good it feels, what was the point of staying a virgin when there’s men who will pleasure you like the miya twins.

“pussy tastes s’good princess.” he mumbles onto you, sending vibrations up your spine, continuing to eat you like you’re his last meal.

he could feel now eager you were to get off, grinding yourself against his face in hopes to chase the orgasmic high that your body was so close to.

the loud noises of his mouth smothered against your pussy and broken whimpers fill up the room.

loud enough for suna to hear through the bedroom door he’s standing on the other side of. he could feel his erection growing, listening to his best friend taint his virgin girl bestie on the most sinister night of the year.

“righthererighthere! ‘m cumming— oh fuck!” the euphoric feelings of the drug in your system enhanced every last nerve running through your veins.

you’re loud, high pitched whines falling from your throat as you throw your head back, eyes shutting tight.

osamu’s face pushed into your cunt with force, nose nudging at your clit. little did the two of you know, the brunette purposely walked into the room with you on the verge of a mind blowing orgasm and osamu’s mouth quite busy.

“you cumming?” suna asks, gripping your face with slender fingers.

your eyes shoot open to see one of his hands planted on the back of osamu’s head pushing his mouth deeper into your pussy, the other holding your face, taunting from above.

“oh yea, you’re fucked.” he taunts, pushing your lips into a kissy face forcefully moving your head from side to side, observing your features.

suna’s done his fair share to know you weren’t all there, your dilated pupils, flushed face and very vulnerable state gave it away.

“don’t be shy, go on. might be ‘samu going to town on ya but your attentions on me, hmm?”

seeing you tweaked out on the verge of your third orgasm of the night really did it for him.

it was torture, watching and hearing the twins have their fun with you meanwhile he had to watch.

absolutely no fair. he’s the reason you even considered coming to the party at all it wouldn’t be all that bad if he used you as a reward for his efforts, now would it?

“rin!!” you whine, “get out! this is embarrassing!”

suna doesn’t bother listening to your protest. he’s already slid his shirt off, unbuckling his belt watching osamu make you cum.

“move it.” he chuckles, tugging at grey locks.

“hey, i had her first.” osamu scoffs at his friends audacity.

“technically atsumu had her first, but it’s my turn. so, are you gonna keep bitchin’ or get your dick sucked while i fuck her?”

the two boys spoke as of you weren’t even there, like you were just an object for them to play with. this wasn’t about the bet anymore. this was about you, and the fact that they’d never get the opportunity to see your tweaked out, legs spread, off molly ever again.

a once in a lifetime opportunity with you in a position to not protest.

suna’s shadow hovered over you, manipulating your body to fit both of them on osamu’s mattress.

hazy eyes stared into his green ones with incoherent mumbles falling from your lips. seeing you fucked out made him want it that much more.

“hang in there for us pretty.” his voice sounding so sincere, meanwhile rubbing the tip of his cock along your slit.

he pushes into you without warning, stretching your cunt around his girth.

“shit..” he hisses through his teeth. “definitely a virgin, fuck.”

“ah—!” your hand flies to his chest in attempt to get him to slow down. “s’too much..”

“none of that,” osamu coos, grabbing your wrist.

you didn’t even notice that he slid his boxers off, smearing precum on your lips like lipgloss.

“hey ‘samu where’s the—” atsumu says, swinging the door open to the lewdest live scene he’s ever seen. “holy hell.”

“are you gonna stare or join?”

sluttsumu 2023

2K notes · View notes

via-l0ve · 7 months

Note

Hey pookie, how are you! I was wondering if you could do a romantic spn pref for sam, dean, castiel, crowley, and gabe? The plot would be that they're on a hunt with the reader and they have to infiltrait a strip club. The reader is female so she poses as a striper (she wears a white angle outfit). At one she pulls she pulls one of the guys into a private room to talk about the plan, but they see a camera in the room so the reader gives the guy a lap dance while explaining the plan as to not get caught. There is alot of sexual tension, and the guys have a crush on the reader. At this point they're only friends though. Thanks girl!

Private. (SPN Pref!) ❤️

a/n: i devoured this prompt. i am in heat. i hope you like this pookie!!!

warnings: SUGGESTIVE!!! read at your own risk, strip club, stripper!reader, lap dances, grinding, no actual smut but nsfw xx

Dean:

dean didn’t imagine this being his wednesday night.

his eyes watched you on the stage, walking around and pretending to be busy. the dainty Angel costume you were wearing hugged you in all the right places - just enough for him to imagine more.

in his distraction, he dosent realize you’re trying to get his attention.

he was suddenly pulled into one of the back, private rooms. he looked over and met your pretty eyes. he smiled.

“dean, i got info.” you smiled, closing and locking the door behind you both.

he was going to respond but his eyes caught something else. a camera. it seemed like you noticed too because you sighed.

dena watched you pull the chair to where the camera faced.

“sit.” you said in a seductive voice.

it’s just for the bit.’ dean reminded himself. he shakily sat down.

you walked toward him, back facing the camera. his eyes widened and face blushed as you started to give him a lap dance.

he was stiff as a board, too nervous to move.

“at least pretend you like it. we have to sell it so we don’t get caught.” you whisper in his ear, pressing kisses to his jawline.

shivers went down his spine and he nodded, grabbing onto your hips.

he stared into your eyes as you spoke, only being able to focus on the feeling of your hips on his, moving and grinding against him. his jaw clenched and he bit his lip, rubbing your hips with his thumbs.

you spoke about the case but he could barley hear you.

eventually you stopped, smiling at him.

“pay up, lover.” you grinned playfully.

he tried to hide his boner, giving you a forced smile as you walked away. his breath heavy and cheeks beet red.

—

Sam:

sam was nose deep in one of his papers of his research he scraped together. his cheeks were red, trying not to look up at you.

not because he didn’t want to - no. he wanted to. more than anything. but if he did, he knew he wouldn’t be able to look away.

despite his efforts, when he felt a hand on his shoulder he had to look up. it was you.

the white angel outfit you were wearing caught his attention. it was tight and revealing, something he wasn’t used to seeing you in.

“come with me.” you lean down and whisper to him. he just nodded, following you.

he then found himself sitting on a chair in one of the back rooms.

“there’s cameras. i have to play my part sammy.” you said to him, and he nodded

“anything you want.”

he blushed again as you started to give him a lap dance. his eyes widened.

you spoke softly about the case, but he could only focus on your body and how it moved atop of his own.

he pretended he was listening, but he was struggling. only feeling the fogginess of his mind and the weight of your body on his lap.

it was over much too soon for his liking

you got off of him and smiled.

“maybe we do this more often.” you said with a smirk.

—

Castiel:

poor boy

remember when he first went to the strip club

that’s him but x10 when he sees you

he’d never seen you in such clothing. not that he was complaining at all. if anything, he was ecstatic about it.

when you met his eyes from across the room, he got up and walked toward you immediately. you didn’t even have to ask (😍)

he followed you into the back rooms.

“cas. i gotta give you a lap dance.”

“what?”

“i’ve gotta play my part. is this okay?”

“…yes?”

castiel didn’t know what a lap dance was.

so when you started to actually do it

wowowowowow

he was gobsmacked.

his hands rested on your waist and he let you do whatever you had to do.

he bit back moans as he was so sensitive

but he listened intently to what you had to say about the case. his hips moved slightly with your body and his face was bright red.

he focused on your words but his eyes drank in how you moved against him and how his hands squeezed your hips

he could feel his dick throbbing against his jeans but he knew he couldn’t do anything about it

you got off of him eventually and he stayed sitting.

“c’mon. we gotta go.” you grinned and walked out before him. he was left with shaking hands and a red face.

—

Crowley:

he watched all of the people at the club with wandering eyes, stopping when he saw you

your outfit fit you perfectly and hugged you in all the right places

crowleys eyes wandered down your body as you came closer to him.

“come.” you said softly, leading him to the private rooms. he smirked.

“now, i didn’t know you wanted this, y/n.”

you just smirk and sit him down in the chair.

you start the lap dance, bringing your mouth close to his ear and whispering the plan to him, grinding your hips against his.

his hands ran over your body and hips, feeling the curves of your body and the softness of your skin

he was grinning, listening to the plan while also enjoying the thrusts and movements of your body

he wanted you to continue for hours. days. forever

but when you got off of him, he had to refrain from pulling you back onto his lap.

—

Gabe:

his eyes were on you from the start

he watched you with a passion, drinking in your appearance and how your white costume looked on your body.

the body he’d dreamed about seeing for months

that’s why he follows you into the back room without question

that’s also why he has to bite back moans when you start grinding against his lap, dancing

he watches with wide eyes, trying to listen to your words but drowning them out as he squirmed against your body weight

he gripped your hips and waist just a little bit too hard

he nodded along to the plan he wasn’t following, just watching your hips and body against his own

he let a groan slip from his lips at one point

his hips moving in rut him with your own

literally driving him insane.

but he’s not complaining

#love u mwah #thank you sm for this request #dean winchester #sam winchester #dean winchester x reader #sam winchester x reader #castiel #castiel x reader #crowley #crowley x reader #supernatural #supernatural imagine #supernatural x reader #sam winchester supernatural #castiel supernatural #dean winchester supernatural #gabriel x reader #gabriel spn #supernatural fic

1K notes · View notes

comphy-and-cozy · 15 days

Text

down bad - mat barzal

Pairing: Mat Barzal x unnamed OFC

Summary: Mat takes a late night booty call to the next level.

Word Count: 5.2K

Warnings: Smut (18+ ONLY): Unprotected sex, oral sex (f receiving), fingering (f receiving), creampie. Mega simp Mat. This has barely any plot but has potential to expand into a universe, maybe? Masterlist

The Snapchat notification brightens the screen for a few moments, catching Mat’s eye even while he focuses on shooting down his opponent on-screen. Beau shouts a warning in his ear, and Mat emits a low curse when he gets sniped from behind.

After one more round, and after bidding goodbye to his friend, Mat’s attention draws back to his phone sitting on the table beside him, tapping to see who the Snapchat was from. His jaw pulses, just slightly, when he sees the name attached to the notification. Instinctually, he feels a gentle throb below the waistband of his gray sweatpants, just at the mere sight of her name.

The photo isn’t set to a timer, and Mat sends a silent thank you to the higher powers that he gets to gaze at it for as long as he desires. The foggy mirror is what he notices first, eyes quickly drawing to the generous cleavage exposed underneath the loosely-wrapped towel, a sliver of delicious skin dragging his eyes down to where the countertop regrettably cuts off the view he would have—of hip bones, leading his eyes down to the apex of two thighs he desperately wants to splay open.

There’s no caption, no commentary needed; the message is loud and clear. A calling that he responds to without fail despite his every effort to remain the nonchalant, professional athlete playboy. Obedient and eager, it’s almost Pavlovian the way his senses kick into gear when her messages come through.

Some might call him whipped, but he prefers the term ‘infatuated.’ He has been, ever since he got that first mirror selfie showing off generous curves clad in Calvin Klein underwear. He’d never admit it outside of the privacy of messages that disappear in 24 hours, but he had never come as hard as he did that night, hand gripping his length while his mind was flooded with images of that body, of those gorgeous lips, of the hips that looked like they were made for his hands.

Mat swipes through the photos he’s saved from her texts, for his eyes only. They’re more private, more sacred; selfies in bathroom mirrors with her top pulled down, videos showing a few specific details of her slutty nurse Halloween costume, and his favorite: his girl, perched on the edge of her bed, a Barzal jersey bunched up around her hips and revealing a gratuitous shot of her ass in a deep blue thong.

When he first matched with her on Raya, he never anticipated that he’d meet up with her, let alone see her multiple times after that. A free night in Chicago before a game, he was lying in the hotel room bed in search of his evening plans, in need of a good release. It was her eyes that drew him in first; the same eyes he stared into while she took him in her mouth later that evening. After finding heaven between her legs and climaxing so hard he saw stars, he told her he’d call her the next time he was in Chicago—and he meant it.

Since then, he returns dutifully to her bed when the Isles come to town, and he leaves the door unlocked for her when she travels to New York City for client visits as a CPA (hot and smart; a lethal combination). It’s become an excellent arrangement, the distance far enough to keep things casual, though on nights like tonight, when all he wants is to be buried inside her, he really wishes she was much closer.

Mat’s attention snaps back to his phone when he sees another notification come through with her name on it, and this time, the dark purple square has his heart fluttering. Clicking into the video, his heart leaps into his throat when he sees the same shot as earlier, only this time, she lets her hand slip so the white towel sags against her body. He’s practically panting, eyes glued to the way she teases him, until she drops the towel altogether.

He’s hard in an instant, flipping back to his Snapchat app to send a photo back of his sweatpant-covered erection.

‘Wish you were here,’ comes her reply. ‘In the mood to get railed.’

Swallowing thickly, Mat feels the twitch against his pelvis. He lets his mind draw back to the last time he saw her; thinking about the feeling of her perfect, wet heat gripping onto him, the way she moaned his name in his ear. He hadn’t gotten more than a few hours with her, hadn’t spent enough time buried between her thighs and worshiping her the way she deserved. The way he craved to. Now, with his last trip to Chicago complete and tax season in the books, he doesn’t know the next time he’ll see her—this fall, at the earliest.

The thought flits through his mind out of nowhere. He considers it for a millisecond, then with a blink, laughs it off. Fly to see her? Tonight?

No, that would be wild, though. It’d be insane.

But you have an off-day tomorrow. You could be back before anyone would notice you’re gone.

Mat shakes his head, pushing away the impulse. He opens his phone, hoping to distract himself by scrolling on Instagram. But the thought doesn’t go away; instead, it patiently nudges at the corner of his brain, lingering until he grants it his full attention. His dick twitches again, as if it knows he’s only a few steps removed from being inside her.

A glance at the airline app can’t hurt, he thinks. Just to see if it’s even a realistic possibility.

He isn’t sure what he’s hoping to see when he opens the Delta app—the perfect timed flight, or a flight that doesn’t work with his schedule. A quick search confirms the former, and he can’t help but laugh out loud at the situation he’s found himself in. Mat shakes his head, the reality of his decision sinking in: are you really about to do this?

He texts her, hoping the distinction of message type symbolizes that he’s serious. The response comes a few minutes later, and he lets out an audible groan when he sees that she’s naked, an arm draped across her breasts seductively. The caption comes next: ‘This is what’s waiting for you if you do decide to come.’

Twenty minutes later, he’s pulling on a baseball cap as he shuts and locks his apartment door, small duffel bag in hand.

Once the Uber drops him off, he briefly notes that it’s strange to be using the public entrance, used to the special business aviation sector that the team used for travel. He could’ve taken a private jet, if he really wanted, but purchasing a commercial ticket was both quicker and easier. And much, much less embarrassing.

He’s halfway through the security line when the reality of what he’s about to do hits him, and he can’t help but laugh at himself. Purchasing and boarding a flight within an hour—for a booty call. Talk about impulsive. And desperate.

The question of ‘why?’ briefly flits through his mind, contemplating his life choices. But then his mind trails to those gorgeous lips, pressed against his mouth, his neck, his—

“Sir, may I please have your ID?”

Mat blinks, coming back to reality, embarrassed that he let his imagination run wild in the middle of the fucking airport. As he pulls his wallet out of his pocket, he does his best to subtly adjust the half-hard erection threatening to make an appearance, smiling innocently at the TSA agent.

If he’s recognized by anyone, no one says anything, though he keeps his head down as he finds his way to his gate. ‘Chicago’ lines the monitor, the flight number and departure times floating across the bottom of the screen. Her last text buzzes in his pocket once he takes a seat, duffel bag seated on the floor by his feet.

The text is actually a photo that has him slapping the face of his phone against his leg, glancing around to make sure no one near him is in sight of his screen. Once he’s sure he’s in safe territory, he sneaks a glance at it again, thirsty for another peek of her completely nude body, a sizable pink dildo pressed against her pouty lips.

Hurry up, the message reads. I’m getting impatient.

Mat hopes nobody notices the way he twitches beneath the dark fabric of his joggers, willing his erection to chill the fuck out as he gets in line to board the plane.

When he lands 3 hours later, Mat’s knee bounces anxiously as he glances out to watch the plane make its way down the tarmac. A quick check on his Maps app tells him he isn’t far from her apartment, and he sends a silent prayer that he can get deplaned quickly.

Waiting is excruciating, and he already has the Uber app loaded as he exits the plane, a ride called by the time he steps off of the jet bridge. Mat’s footsteps quicken when he sees the signs pointing toward baggage claim, and it isn’t long until he’s getting into a red Toyota Camry, his driver, Todd, greeting him from the front seat.

‘The door is unlocked,’ her text read. ‘I’m in the bedroom.’

The lights are off when he enters, though the light over the sink illuminates the small kitchen just enough for him to toe his shoes off and head toward the bedroom door. Mat’s heart thuds in his chest as he nears it, nears her, fingers itching to caress every inch of her body. His dick gives another wanton pulse, like it knows its wait is almost over.

What he sees when he opens the door has him speechless—and that’s hard to do to Mat Barzal.

The room is dark save for the small string of fairy lights by her window and a sandalwood candle burning on the bedside table. Flickering candlelight casts a warm glow over the room, dancing on the panoramic photo of Wrigley Field on the wall across from her bed.

But Mat isn’t looking at any of that.

Instead, his eyes are locked on his girl, lying on the bed, gazing straight at him. She’s completely naked, save for the very sheer black lace kimono, untied in the front, revealing her bareness to him entirely. Her legs are spread in a way that he has the perfect view. The warmth of the candle makes her skin look like it’s glowing, soft and golden and delicious.

This time, his dick doesn’t just twitch. It throbs.

He thinks he might’ve let out a whimper, dropping his bag on the floor; his body moves of its own accord, approaching her bed and immediately slotting between her legs. His lips are on hers before he even realizes it, unable to deny the yearning to feel her touch any longer.

“Hi,” he murmurs against her mouth. She giggles, lips curling into a smile against his own. “Missed you.”

Her reply is a hum, hands carding through his hair, hat knocked on the floor. His lips suck, lick, and nip their way over her jaw and to the place he can feel her pulse against his lips. Mat likes the way she shivers when his breath skitters over her skin, body shuddering at the sensation.

“Can’t believe you’re actually here,” she breathes, drawing his lips back up to hers for a heated kiss. The pressure mounts, his tongue desperately seeking out the seam of her mouth; involuntarily, his hips begin a slow grind, pressed right against her bare heat. There’s no hiding or denying his own rigid erection, groaning at the feeling of finally getting some friction after hours of waiting.

“Had to have you,” he whispers back. “Teasin’ me with those pictures like that.”

She moans when his mouth makes a sloppy, wet path from her jaw, down her neck, over her collarbones, landing on her breast. Mat licks and sucks every inch of skin he touches, drinking in the taste of her nipple between his lips. “Makin’ me so hard with these tits.”

“Just wanted to see if you were really whipped enough to fly here,” she purrs, raking her hand over his scalp when he takes her hardened peak between his teeth, biting down. His cheeks warm, embarrassed at the attention to just how desperate he is for her.

But he can’t deny it, so he doesn’t. Instead, he allows himself to indulge in her body, thinking that he might as well live up to his newfound title.

“Need this pussy like I need water, baby,” he says with a sleek grin, letting his hand drift between her thighs, hissing with delight when he finds her drenched. She rolls her eyes at the exaggerated comment, though she can’t ignore the flutter in her belly at his carnal need for her.

Her mouth opens to quip back, and he revels in the way a gasp usurps whatever sass she was about to deliver when he plunges a finger into her tight heat. She grips his digits snugly, squeezing him so tightly he wonders how he’s gonna fit another finger in, let alone his dick. The appendage gives another wanton throb.

The lemony jasmine of her shampoo invades his senses as his hand continues to pump, working his girl into a slow, maddening frenzy. Her back arches upward, kimono falling open so she’s all but bare to him. The slope of her breasts, curve of her waist, soft breath of her whimper draw him into her, pulling him into her trance.

Mat can tell by the high pitch in her whine that she’s bordering on desperate for something more. Slipping in another finger, he smirks against her lips when he hears the audible squelch of his digits pressing into her drenched center. The sound has his mouth watering, suddenly quenched of thirst.

Gripping the plush, soft skin of her thighs, Mat pries her legs open—“jus’ a little more for me, sweetheart”—to make room for his broad shoulders before shifting his body down until he’s at eye-level with her waiting, wanting core. He doesn’t wait for her whimper before he’s pressing his face against her, moaning when his tongue tastes her slick.

His girl is divine, her pussy a certain, secret entrance to the pearly gates. Each lap of his tongue isn’t nearly enough to curb his addiction, the craving never satiated. Her fingers twist into the long locks of his hair, tugging and pulling him exactly where she needs him; he’s pliant, moldable, eager to please. He’d devour her cunt whole, if he could.

Unabashed moans encourage Mat to allow his fingers to rejoin his tongue, teasing the swollen nub at the apex of her gorgeous, heavenly slit. He drinks in her nectar like it’s the elixir of life, greedy and indulgent. The soft moans that he coaxes from her throat are just an added bonus.

He’s precise, paying close attention to the way she reacts to each flick of his tongue, each twist of his fingers. Between the choked gasps slipping from her pretty lips and the way her thighs tighten around his head, he knows he’s close—that she’s close.

Another long, languid suck of her clit sends her hurtling into orgasm, spine arching off of the mattress. Mat’s hand rests firmly on her hip, holding her in place even despite the way her body writhes with the force of her release; he savors the taste of her flooding his mouth.

Mat loses track of how many times he makes her come, flooding his mouth with her nectar. Three? Four? Five? His jaw aches, his mouth, chin and cheeks glistening with evidence of her arousal like he’s at a fucking all-you-can-eat buffet. He wishes Lou would let him grow a beard so he could taste her on his face for hours.

“Matty,” she sighs, and he can hear in her voice that she’s done with the foreplay. Her hands weakly tug at the cotton of his t-shirt in an attempt to draw him up to her. He obeys, pressing his mouth to her lips, letting her taste herself on his tongue; as he does, the clothed tip of his erection bumps against her open, waiting center, and she whines.

“I know, baby,” he coos, massaging the inside of her thigh with a large hand. She’s practically putty underneath his touch. “Wanna fuck you so bad I think my dick might fall off.”

“Too many clothes,” she says, voice still distant and hazy from her orgasms. Mat feels a smug sense of satisfaction at the way she weakly paws at his clothes, fingers searching for purchase in the cotton of his t-shirt. She’s right, though, and he wrenches his body from hers in favor of pulling his shirt over his head.

Heat floods her eyes and Mat watches the way her gaze falls to the cut lines of his muscle, shamelessly running over the abs and the biceps he’s worked so hard on. He’d be lying if he didn’t think of her—think of this—on the early mornings he dreaded getting out of bed to workout; the thought of her lips, her hips, her body never failing to encourage him to do one more rep. Mat knows his role, his duty, as the professional athlete: maintain the god-like physique that has her all but drooling.

And when she looks at him like that, how is he supposed to deny it?

Mat shimmies his pants off, palming his aching erection through his boxer briefs. His girl’s hand reaches up to aid him, the thin material barely a barrier between her skin and his, and he can’t help but groan at the contact.

“How long have you had this?” she purrs, stroking him leisurely. He can hardly process her words and she’s barely touched him.

“Since—fuck—since you sent me that picture.” His voice is more of a choked whisper, breath hitching in his throat when she offers him an affectionate squeeze.

“But that was hours ago, Matty,” she says, but the evil glint in her eye tells him that she isn’t really feeling sympathy for him; instead, there’s smug pride hidden behind a coy smile. “You must be desperate.”

All Mat can do is hum in response, every nerve on heightened alert as her hand drags slow, languid lines up and down his length. He knows if he opens his mouth, only nonsensical gibberish is going to come out and probably ruin the moment.

“Desperate enough to fly from Long Island to Chicago just to fuck me,” she continues musing. “I’m flattered.”

Pulling himself together—eyes closing when she gives him a squeeze—Mat steels himself to say, “Best pussy I’ve ever had. ‘Course I’m desperate for you.”

“Aww, Matty,” she says with a wry, teasing smile. “You have such a way with words.”

Impatience huffs out of Mat’s lips, doing his best to suppress a whine and a plea to please, grant him some relief. “Let me fuck you, baby.”

Her fingers dip into the waistband of his boxer briefs, tugging it down before he’s hurriedly shucking the material down his hips. “You gonna be polite?”

“Please,” he tacks on, pressing himself forward to connect his lips with hers, needing something—anything—to take the edge off. “Please, baby, swear I’ll fuck you so good.”

His girl hums, returning his kiss, letting his tongue slide into her mouth; symbolic in its action as he teases, dragging the muscle in and out in intentional, suggestive motions. He shifts his approach, letting his voice take on the sickly sweet, honeyed purr that she loves. “Know you want it, sweet girl. Bet you’re jus’ drippin’ for it, aren’t you?”

“Why don’t you find out?”

If Mat had a single ounce of resistance left in him, he’d tease her back, but he can’t draw out his own torture any longer. He lets his hand trail down her body, meeting her own that’s wrapped around his hard, bare length. His fingers brush against her, placing themselves over her hand before guiding himself toward the apex of her thighs. She smiles against his mouth, exhaling softly as his tip broaches her entrance.

“Think I can hear her purring for me,” he says, pressing his hips forward to plunge into her with a groan. A gasp leaves her mouth, hands quickly finding purchase in the dips of his shoulders. The feeling of her walls gripping him tightly nearly makes his eyes roll back in his head.

There isn’t a whisper of a retort on her tongue, his quick-witted girl rendered speechless with him sheathed inside her. As much as he loves her quick wit and feisty attitude, he can’t deny that it’s extremely satisfying to be the one to shut her up.

For awhile, he’s content to simply stay that way, feeling the way her walls flutter around him, her body silently begging for more. But then she remembers how to speak, saying, “Mat, fuck me.”

It takes a moment to ensure he isn’t going to completely ruin everything by finishing immediately, but once he does, he lets his hips tick forward, then back, then forward again. He works the pace up to one that earns a lusty gasp in his ear, arms holding himself above her, silver chain dangling between his neck and her chin.

“Squeezin’ onto me like your life depends on it, baby,” he grunts. “Fuck, this cunt is so worth the 3 hour flight. Would charter a private jet just to have it in my bed every single night.”

She hums, responding by wrapping her legs around his waist, welcoming him deeper. “Better make the most of it then, Barzal.”

And, well, when she puts it like that.

Mat fucks her slow, fucks her fast, doing his best to remember everything he’s thought about doing to her since he kissed her goodbye when he slipped out of her apartment two months ago. His voice is low in her ear, filthy words strung together between nips at her neck and sloppy, heated kisses against her mouth. She feels so fucking good, and he makes sure to tell her that—communication has always been one of his stronger points.

He presses his hips firmly against the backs of her thighs, burying himself as deep as he can go. His hands wander freely, one making a path between her neck and her breast, the other languidly trailing along the slope of her ass.

Her ass. Of course.

Lost in the euphoria of seeing her, touching her, tasting her, he’d almost forgotten about his very favorite body part of hers—the one he thought about on nights where he missed her, furiously fisting his length, that never failed to bring him to orgasm. Slowing his hand’s movements, he matches his smooth strokes to the tempo of his fingers kneading the globes of her ass.

She loves it. He can tell in the way her hips roll, grinding herself against him, a feral-sounding moan coming from deep in her throat. Mat can practically feel the orgasm building inside of her, keeping his movements careful and precise, unwilling to change a single thing; he can’t tame the desire to feel her come around him.

“Matty,” she whimpers, a hand slipping between their bodies to rub at her clit. His eyes glance down to the movement, cursing lowly at the sight. “M’close.”

“Yeah, baby? You gonna come for me? Come on my cock after I flew all this way just to fuck you?”

If she tries to answer, nothing comes out other than another moan. Her eyes squeeze shut, and he imagines the fireworks that will soon dance beneath her eyelids. Fingers stroke at her soft skin, almost as if he’s willing her orgasm into existence. He lowers his voice to murmur, “I’ve been dreaming about feeling you come all over me for weeks, baby. It’s the least you can do.”

When she reaches the precipice, her body freezes beneath him, time standing still for a millisecond as she shatters. He can almost feel the way it courses through her, the way her pussy clamps onto him so tightly he sees stars of his own.

It’s glorious. Sinfully, decadently, maddeningly exquisite.

Mat’s patient with her comedown, whispering soft words of encouragement, hips resuming a gentle motion that probes her sensitive core. She whines, pawing at his shoulder to push him away. Her voice is gentle, a soft command. “Matty.”

“Sorry, sweetheart,” he says with a cheeky smile. “Y’feel too good.”

He’s aware, though, wants to give her a moment of reprieve before he bends her over the way he wants to. So, he suppresses a huff as he pulls out of her delicious heat, distracting himself from the loss by kissing her hotly. She seems distracted, too, sighing into his mouth, enjoying the way it feels like he’s devouring her whole.

“Wanna fuck you from behind,” he murmurs against her lips. “Watch this ass bounce on me.”

Mat helps her up, allowing her to tear her lips away from his in favor of flipping over. Once she’s settled on her hands and knees, the mattress dipping slightly beneath her weight, he takes a moment to admire the view: pussy glistening with the remnants of her orgasm, framed by the globes of her perfect ass. Heaven.

“Gotta be inside you,” he says, a statement that’s more like a declaration.

“Quit making me wait.”

His eyebrow raises. “Thought we were being polite.”

“You are. I can be whatever I want,” she shoots back with a smile. His dick gives another mild twitch.

Mat hums. “Guess I better give the lady what she wants, then.”

Judging by the way she’s backing up to meet him, he assumes she’s had plenty of reload time and slips back into her. This time, he doesn’t take his time to ramp up, instead setting a grueling pace from the start, his hands gripping tightly onto her hips.

A groan, followed by a loud curse. “Think about this every damn day. You, taking it from behind like this. Bent over jus’ for me.”

Her reply is to lean forward farther, spreading her arms forward onto the mattress and opening herself to him even more. Mat accepts the invitation to drive deeply into her, hips slapping loudly against the back of her thighs. The thought of her neighbors briefly flits through his mind, but another glance back down at her ass has that consideration slipping away as quickly as it came. He doesn’t care who hears or who he wakes up; hell, he’d be fine telling the entire world that he gets to fuck her.

“Since you came all this way, you deserve a treat,” she says, twisting her head to glance over her shoulder at him. The sight of her peachy, round ass and her bedroom eyes looking up at him makes his balls tighten.

“And what might that be?” Mat accentuates the question by squeezing her hips tightly. He swallows down the comment that this, here, being inside of her, is already reward enough.

“I’ll let you come inside.”

Since their trysts began, she’s made Mat relieve himself elsewhere—her chest, her ass, her face; his mind briefly flits to each, reminiscing on the mental snapshot he took each time. The thought of not just not having to pull out moments before the strongest climaxes of his life, but at the idea of finishing inside of her is enough to have his heart pulsing rapidly in his chest.

“Yeah? You want me to fill you up?” he says with a grin, leaning forward to brush his lips against her ear. The action presses him even deeper inside of her, his hips snug against the curve of her ass as he whispers, “Fuck my load deep inside this perfect little cunt?”

She nods, mouth opening in a silent gasp when he gives a particularly hard thrust. “Yeah. Wanna feel you, Matty.”

Her eyes shoot open when he pauses his movements, glancing back at him in protest when he pulls away. Both hands pull lightly on her hips, encouraging her to flip over onto her back. When she does, her eyes catch his and he smiles.

“Wanna see your face when I come,” he says with a shrug, easing himself back into her waiting core.

“Oh, he’s down bad.”

He laughs, face crinkling into a smile despite the way the burn of euphoria builds in his stomach. A hand drags down the outside of her leg, tucking her calf around his hip. “Fuck off.”

“Are you gonna come in me or not?”

“You begging for it?”

The four words dramatically change the mood; Mat watches her eyes darken as they sink in. Like he gave a secret code to have her submissive and pliant beneath him. Her voice is barely above a whisper, her lips pouty. “Please, Matty.”

Mat slows his hips, savoring the way her pussy sucks him in, greedy. He can’t help the grin that curls up on his face, watching the way her eyebrows knit together. “You’re gonna have to do better than that, sweetheart.”

“Please, baby,” she whines, “wanna feel you come in me. I—I need it.”

He hums. “Been dreaming about filling this tight pussy up for months, baby. Wanna watch my cum drip out of this slutty little cunt.”

“Please,” is her whispered plea—quiet and desperate.

“You sound so pretty when you beg,” he says with a smirk. The pace of his hips increase, balls tightening with the threat of his climax. He listens to her moans, the sound of his skin against hers, the rustle of the sheets beneath his knees. His girl’s hands tighten around his shoulders, holding onto him as she absorbs the weight of his thrusts, body shifting up and down on the mattress.

Mumbles of her name, of obscenities, flow out of his mouth, low murmurs in her ear. His rhythm starts to falter, no longer a steady metronome but a series of sloppy, uneven thrusts as Mat finds it harder and harder to stay focused.

The release starts deep in his core, bursting through with a loud groan as he finally meets his end, reveling in the feeling of spilling inside of her. It’s freeing to have no barriers between him and her, to feel her in all of her pure, whole self, the way she contracts tightly around him as her own final climax barrels through her. Mat’s vision goes fuzzy, and for a moment he’s pretty sure his soul ascends out of his body.

It occurs to Mat that he’s slumped on top of her, panting into the crook of her neck while soft, small hands trace lazy lines up and down his spine. The touch ignites his nerve endings, sending another wave of consciousness through his system. Her nails drag delicious, soothing lines onto his scalp, and he feels his throat vibrate against her collarbone in a moan. His vision gradually grows from fuzzy to just a bit of a haze when he peels his eyes open.

“Baby, that was the—”

“Hardest you’ve ever come?”

Mat blinks, fully back in reality now, shifting his head to look at her in disbelief. “How did you know?”

She chuckles, lips brushing against his ear. “You said that last time, too.”

#mat barzal fic #mat barzal imagine #hockey imagine #hockey fic #nhl imagine #hockey smut #nhl fanfiction

537 notes · View notes

thyme-in-a-bubble · 7 months

Text

you can’t put it in

kinktober, day thirty-one

a/n: happy hornyween halloween! to say goodbye to kinktober, I thought it was fitting to end in the same boat as we started in. enjoy sluts ♡ I love you all so so much ♡

warnings: stepbro!peter parker x reader, smut, stepcest, secret relationship, semipublic sex, bathroom sex, halloween party, pussyjob, dirty talk, corruption kink

∼ gentle reminder that feedback, but especially reblogs are the way you support writers on here ∽

masterlist | join my taglist | kinktober 2023

You properly shouldn’t have had those last few drinks. Maybe if you hadn’t, then you wouldn’t have ended up in this position, on the bathroom counter at some Halloween party, with your stepbrother slotted between your wide-spread legs, length freed from his costume and teasing your weeping mess with the tip of it.

“You can’t put it in,” your form needily shivered as he tapped his weight against your puff, “promise me that you won’t put it in.”

Maybe if your costume hadn’t been so revealing and his hadn’t hugged his frame so perfectly, then you would have been able to stay away from one another, but something inside of you knew that even if you both wore potato sacks and didn’t indulge in a drop of anything, then you would have still ended up in this exact same predicament.

“Come on, princess,” Peter tugged down the neckline of your skimpy costume and played with your tits, “you didn’t have a problem with me fucking your throat sore.”

“That’s different and you know it,” you pouted, legs rubbing up against his sides as he continued to tease. Realising his grip on your boob with a playful tap, his hand then drifted down to aid his movements, pinching your petals around him as he fucked your folds, the tip rhythmically nudging against your buzzing clit.

“Just think about how good it will feel letting me stretch this little pussy all the way out.”

“Peter-”

Eyes glued to your cunt, he ignored your plea and smirked, “maybe you just need to learn a lesson about what happens when you run around being such a fucking tease all the time…”

1K notes · View notes

muwapsturniolo · 1 month

Text

✯𝐇𝐞𝐚𝐝 𝐒𝐨 𝐆𝐨𝐨𝐝, 𝐒𝐡𝐞 𝐀 𝐇𝐨𝐧𝐨𝐫 𝐑𝐨𝐥𝐥✯

IN WHICH... Chris experiences the best head of his life at the freak show.

WARNINGS: NSFW CONTENT AHEAD!!! switch!chris, dom!colby, cuck!colby, switch!reader. clowns, fire, alcohol, sexual escapades, oral (m receiving), slapping, choking.

Chris doesn't know how he got into this situation.

One minute he was at a club in LA with his friends, then he was in some bedroom getting head from Tara's friends who works at the place.

Let's start from the beginning.

Chris was a bit on edge tonight.

The triplets had turned 21 about a week ago, and Tara and a few of their other friends (Sam and Colby, Jake and Johnny, Larray and Quen) had planned to take them to a club. Because Tara was the one who came up with the idea, she decided the club of the night should be ''FreakShow''.

When the triplets heard this, they were all put off by it.

Who names a club FreakShow?

With some convincing, Tara got them to agree. They arrived at the club and instantly were confused with the people they were seeing.

It looked like a rock show with how much leather and gothic faces they were met with. "Tara, what the fuck is this place?" Nick asked as they walked right past the security guard and into the club. Tara answers with a giggle, excitement coursing through her veins.

"Relax! Just have fun tonight!" Colby says clapping his hands and rubbing them together. The group walks through a tunnel that's illuminated in black light, wild scribbles on the wall catching their attention. Chris makes out some of the words scribbled on the wall and he chuckles to himself.

They approach a door where a girl in a clown outfit and face paint greets them. "Tara! Long time no see! How are you?" The girls voice is a bit high-pitched, fitting her clown costume.

"Janey! I know I've been so busy but I brought some new friends since they just turned 21!" The girl, now known as Janey, eyes the triplets. It's as if her mood switches, her body movement becoming more animated. She gives a wide creepy smile showing off her sharp yellow teeth.

"Well, Tara you know the rules. Each new person has to tell the freakiest thing they have done, after all this is the FreakShow."

The triplets immediately look at Tara, their eyes wide. "Tara you did not tell us this!" Everyone laughs as the boys begin to freak out. "Oh calm down! there are no cameras or anything, and this place is free of judgment! Look I'll even say mine!" Tara turned back to Janey and smiled, "I made out with Y/n and Jake watched!" Jake nods along, proving the statement is true.

"Ok, now you guys go! Hurry up I don't want to miss Y/n's show."

The brothers look at each other, speaking with their eyes.

"Fuck it! I blew a guy in the locker room during a fire drill." Nick states.

Chris chokes on his spit hearing Nick's confession. He remembers that day and how Nick was talking about a sore throat. Now he knows why. "Matt your turn," Nick says waving his hand, not wanting the attention to stay on him.

"Umm... Can I like whisper it to you?" He asks Janey. She nods and takes a step closer, allowing Matt to whisper in her ear. She pulls away with an eyebrow raised. "I'm going to find you later, you seem fun to play with." Matt blushes and turns to Chris waiting for him to go.

"Umm, I had sex with a girl wearing a Ghostface mask?" Janey smiles at the group and unlocks the metal door, letting them through with a bow, "Have fun at the FreakShow."

Tara thanked her before pushing the group through the doors.

The sight they are met with is almost scandalous. Multiple people in revealing outfits. Most of them are clown-themed, and others are just straight-up lingerie. Like Janey, some of the faces are covered in paint, and their hair being done up in crazy ways.

There are girls and guys on stages, some dancing on poles and others just dancing provocatively. There are some people in cages and others on aerial hoops.

"This is like a fucking circus!"

Chris states holding onto Larray tightly when a girl walks past him with a snake. Tara guides them to a section that's blocked off and has a perfect view of the stage. Chris immediately notices a wide variety of liquor on the table with a placement card that reads Tara's name.

They sit down and begin to drink, the alcohol instantly loosening Chris up and making him relax.

The group laughs and talks, pointing out the different acts of the "freaks" around them.

"She just shoved a knife down her throat! I definitely think I cou-Holy shit!" Nick jumps back into his seat as a girl walks by, blowing fire out of her mouth. She cackles before bouncing away, literally.

A bit of time passes before a loud voice resembling the Jokers comes over the intercom.

"Tonight we have a special show for you freaks, created by our one and only Y/n, a true freak herself. She loves to scare, and she loves to make all genders crumble. Try not to drool and try not to cream." He lets out a manic laugh that makes some of the crowd uneasy, and the rest shout.

A loud bass fills the club, shaking the whole floor. Chris could feel his insides vibrating along with the bottles on the table. His eyes dart to the stage as the familiar lyrics all over Tiktok makes it's way through his ears.

"Go, go, go, go Head so good, she a honor roll She'll ride the dick like a carnival I done did the impossible!"

A bunch of contorted bodies crawl onto the stage, sending a shiver up Chris's spine. He watches their ragged but hypnotizing movements, the way some of them flip and bend intriguing him.

He sits up seeing an aerial hoop descending down onto the stage, a body attached to it.

"That's Y/n!" Tara shouts as she jumps up from the couch, clapping excitedly.

Y/n does a bunch of tricks on the hoop that has the crowd shouting in encouragement.

Pain all in my eyes, I can't see, huh I'm 'bout to jump out my body, I'm ready to leap, uh

She hangs upside down from the hoop by her legs, two of the dancers beginning to spin her.

Dollar signs all in my dreams, I don't never see Z's, whoa, whoa-whoa That swag cover my body like it's a disease, whoa, whoa-whoa

She sensually lowers her body from the hoops and crawls on the runway of the stage, almost like a lion getting ready to pounce on its prey.

Go, go, go, go Head so good, she a honor roll She'll ride the dick like a carnival I done did the impossible

When she gets to the end of the runway, she arches her back, stretching her arms forward like a cat.

She stands quickly and does backhand springs until she lands in the center of the stage, the rest of the dancers circling around her. One of them grabs her neck, yanking it back harshly and pouring a liquid into her mouth.

Go, go, go, go, go, go, go, go Go, go, go, go, go, go, go, go

She blows bright pink flames from her mouth, the pyrotechnics on the stage following her lead. Everyone screams in shock as the song ends.

"She finally did it! Holy shit!"

The girl smiles and gives her final bow, blowing a kiss to the crowd before cartwheeling off the stage.

"That was different," Matt says after he stops clapping. The club resumes with random songs playing and people continuing their partying. " Y/n always puts on good shows! Never a disappointment."

Colby jumps feeling a pair of hands caress his chest before sliding down, "Aww you flatter me Colby." Tara squeals seeing her best friend. As the girl walks around the couch, Chris takes the time to examine her. Her outfit consists of black ripped fishnets, a bright pink thong that is covered by a black leather mini skirt, and a leather bikini top that presses her boobs together. Her hair was in some kind of style Chris couldn't exactly name, but it suited her. Her makeup wasn't the craziest he'd seen tonight, but it was still enough to pique his interest considering she had one-star eye-contact in, as well as concealed eyebrows. Her feet were covered in black chunky boots that made her seem taller than she actually was.

She plops down in Colby's lap, smiling at Tara. "So I take it we liked the show?"

Everyone begins to hype her up, expressing how good it was. "I'm glad you all loved it! I had to practice my fire blowing for weeks!"

Suddenly Y/n's eyes fall on the three boys, "I've never seen you three before." Her eyes stay on Chris, making him quickly look away. "They are my friends! They just turned 21 and I wanted them to have a fun night! This is Nick, Matt, and Chris!" Tara explains.

Y/n hums and leans back into Colby who is rubbing her thighs through her fishnets.

"Are you three having fun?"

Chris is too busy watching Colby’s hands, he doesn't answer her, leaving Nick and Matt to do so. "This place is very ...different?" Y/n laughs at Nick's descriptive words.

"It is different, that's the joy of it all. A place for any and everyone who might be into the weird things to come in and relax, have fun, unleash their inner freak."

"What are you into?" Chris suddenly asks.

"Ask Colby what I'm into." Chris’s eyes dart to Colby who is cheesing hard. "Oh yeah, this one is crazy. She asked me to hold a knife to her throat a couple of times."

"Girl what? You're insane." Nick says shaking his head. She does nothing but wink before leaning forward and grabbing a cup of alcohol. Chris can't help but watch the way some of the liquid spills out the side of the cup, and falls down her glimmering breasts.

"Oh my god wait! I haven't seen you in so long! I saw you got your tongue split! let me see!" Quen shouts over the music.

Y/n cheeses and opens her mouth, letting the split tongue fall out of her mouth.

Chris thought he would have been disgusted with the muscular organ, but he found himself adjusting how he was sitting, attempting to hide his rising boner.

Colby notices instantly and smirks to himself, plotting.

“I don’t know if I find it cool or weird,” Larray states, poking the tongue in the process. “It hurt like a bitch but it’s so fun now! I can tie a cherry stem now…I also got to eat a girl out and she said it felt amazing.”

“Wait I need to see the cherry thing!”

She takes a cherry from the jar on the table and puts it in her mouth, chewing on the bittersweet fruit before moving her tongue around.

Chris can’t help but imagine what the split tongue would feel like on his tip, wrapped around both sides as she-

“Done!” She sticks her tongue out, the tied stem on display.

Chris sucks in a sharp breath and abruptly stands up, “I-I have to go to the bathroom.” He announces, walking off without another word.

“Y/n you should show him where the bathroom is.” Colby suggests.

Y/n isn’t dumb, she had seen Chris looking at her and trying to hide his boner since she sat down on Colby’s lap.

She gives Colby a look before standing up and strutting off, her eyes set on Chris. She slides infront of him making him stumble back, “let me show you to the bathroom.” She doesn’t give him an option, grabbing his hand and leading him through the club.

They walk through a dimly lit hallway before she pushes him through a curtain.

“T-this isn’t the bathroom.” He mumbles looking around the room. He notices a bed and his heart begins to race.

“I know.” The smile she gives is anything but innocent. She walks closer to him, her taller stature towering over him. “I also know you were only going to the bathroom to jerk off.”

She trails an acrylic finger down his chest before stopping at his belt,

“Tell me Chris, do you like freaks? Cause I like freaks too.”

Her eyes dart up, making the boy gulp as a sheer sheet of sweat forms on his forehead. She leans down and whispers in his ear, “I’m not stupid, I saw the way you were looking at me, especially my tongue.” She allows the split muscle to lightly lick his ear.

His face burns a bright pink as he whimpers. “Come on, you know you want to.” She taunts as her hand lightly begins to palm him.

“W-what about Colby?”

“What about me?”

Y/n whips around and smiles seeing the tall boy. He walks over and stands behind her, wrapping his large hand around her throat. “Is this s-some kind of joke? Aren’t you guys dating?” Chris asks looking at the two, his heart beating out of his chest.

“Dating? Nooo, me and this one just like to have fun sometimes.” Y/n giggles and nods along to Colby’s words, her hand still palming Chris.

Colby lets go of Y/n and walks over to a chair in the corner, taking a seat. “Now, I’m giving you the opportunity to have fun tonight.”

“Come on Chris, don’t you want to have fun?” Y/n tags on.

Chris looks over to Colby who nods, giving him the ok to agree.

"Yeah...Ok"

Y/n grins sadistically before grabbing a fistful of his shirt, pushing the boy back on the bed. Chris is looking at her as if she’s crazy, he’s never been manhandled by a girl before and he didn’t expect it to turn him on this much.

She crawls over him before settling down on his lap, grinding down on his erection. His hands fly to her hips as he lets out a barely audible moan.

“Tell me what you want pretty boy,” she continues to grind her hips, her own wetness spreading through her folds.

“He wants your mouth,” Colby answers as he palms himself through his jeans. She grins down at Chris, tilting her head to the side.

“You want my mouth?” She leans down, watching his eyes dart to her lips. She sees the temptation in his eyes and she feeds into it. She grabs hold of his jaw and plants her lips against his.

He squeezes her sides tightly as she pushes her tongue in his mouth, a chill running up his spine as he feels the split muscle fighting against his own tongue.

“Quit teasing him,” Colby demands. Y/n pulls away from Chris with an eye roll and looks at Colby.

“I’m not teasing him, it’s called foreplay. Maybe you forgot since everyone else you fuck is trash.” Her bratty response causes Colby to rise to his feet. He yanks her off of Chris and forces her to her knees.

He grabs a fistful of her hair, yanking her head back and looking down at her smirking face.

"She's a brat Chris, always wanting to press your buttons and get you worked up until you go over the deep end-"

Chris's eyes widen for what seems like the umpteenth time this night seeing Colby slap the girl on her knees. Her face whips to the side but her chesire smile never leaves.

He does it again, and again, and again, until Y/n is sniffling softly, her smile slowly falling. Colby grabs hold of her jaw and forces her head upward, "are you done being a brat?"

"Yes," she answers obediently, her once playful and seductive tone replaced with a submissive one.

Colby takes the initiative and shoves Y/n's face into Chris's hard-on, the bulge pressing against her aching cheek.

"Now be good and suck him off. We both know you've been wanting to try that new modification out."

Chris stays frozen, this whole situation being new to him. He doesn't know what to do besides sit and watch.

"Now!" The girl jumps and hastily begins to unbutton Chris's belt. He lifts himself up, aiding her in pulling both his pants and boxers down.

His cock springs up and Y/n can feel her mouth salivating, her lips parting slightly as she examines the phallus.

She grabs the base and inches forward, holding eye contact as she spits on his tip. He whimpers at the feeling on his tip, the whimper turning into a soft moan as she begins to pump.

His moans are like music to her ears, egging her on. They differ from Colby, more soft and a bit shy. Colby's is deep and more dominant. She figures it's because he's not in his element of control in the bedroom, not used to having a girl calling the shot and handling him how she sees fit.

She loves it.

He flinches feeling both sides of her tongue running up his shaft. She wraps her plump lips around his swollen tip, swirling her tongue around it. Suddenly her head is pushed down and held in place, shocking both her and Chris.

Chris groans and clenches his eyes shut feeling her throat clench around him.

"What did I say about teasing? Suck his dick the right way or I'm not fucking you tonight."

The threat of not being fucked into the mattress after not seeing Colby for a month gets to her.

She doesn't hold back, immediately bobbing her head and slobbering all over him.

Chris can feel his soul leaving his body, his toes curling as her split tongue adds even more pleasure. It felt better than he could imagine.

"Shit!" He doesn't know if he wants to push her away or let her continue the assault on his dick. As she begins to fondle his balls, he bucks his hips forward, his dick hitting the back of her throat. He panics thinking he hurt her but stops realising,

She didn't gag.

She didn't gag when Colby pushed her head down either.

She doesn't have a gag reflex.

"You can be rough with her Chris, don't be scared. She likes being used, isn't that right?"

Chris sucks in a sharp breath and bites his lip as the girl moans around him, confirming Colby's words. She pulls away from him, a wide and deranged smile on her face.

"Fuck my mouth Chris, I know you want to." She kitten licks his tip, pushing him to break.

And he does just that.

His hand finds its way to the back of her head, gripping the pink hair and pushing her head back down.

He begins to fuck her mouth, not hard enough to hurt her (his actions still unsure to him), but hard enough to make spit pool out of her mouth.

The drool mixed with precum falls out the side of her mouth, some getting on the bed, some falling on her chest, and the rest trickling down his shaft.

His grunts and moans along with the lewd slurping noises bounce off the walls of the room as his thrusts become more erratic, chasing his orgasm.

She can tell he's close, feeling his dick twitching in her mouth, the way his stomach caves in with the harsher he breathes.

She pushes his hands away and lifts her head, "cum in my mouth pretty boy, you know you want to."

She swirls her tongue around his tip, maintaining eye contact the whole time.

"Ah sh-" Chris cuts himself off with a loud groan and shoves her head all the way down. She feels the cum hit the back of her throat, sliding down with ease.

She pulls off of him with a pop and licks her lips, watching Chris breathe heavily.

She pulls him down and begins to make out with him, standing up slowly and crawling on top of him.

She's hungry for him now, wanting to experience his girth inside of her. Before she could even begin to remove her fishnets, Colby stops them, "Not so quick pretty girl." She stops and looks at Colby, still grinding down on Chris. She watches as he approaches them.

"You think you get to fuck two people tonight?" She giggles, moving off of Chris and closer to Colby, "Greedy girl. He can't even handle you and you want to play with him." He snatches her by her neck and leans closer before planting his lips against hers.

chris watches as the two make out next to him, his body buzzing with adrenaline. "You wanna give Chris a show? Hm? You want to show him how to handle you for next time?" Y/n nods eagerly, not even paying attention to what Colby is saying, just wanting to be fucked dumb.

"Sit on the chair Chris, you're going to learn how to fuck her just how she likes it."

can yall tell where i lowkey gave up? 😭 lmao sorry.

TAGLIST 🍑

@bernardsgf @bernardsleftbootycheek @blahbel668 @mattfrfr @gdsvhtwa @sturniolo-aali @lily-loves-struniolos @kynda-avery @causeidontlikeagoldrush

@st7rnioioss @carolinalikesthings @mattslolita @suyqa @xxloveralways14 @pepsiimaxx @judespoision

@ivonchetooo1239 @imaslut4kehlani @that-general-simp @m4stermindd @itzdarling @gigisworldsstuff @adoreindie @braindead4l @pettydollie @chrissgirlsstuff @alexis007 @ratatioulle @yamamasjumpercables @luv4kozume @sturnioloslurps @kqyslyho3 @j3tblackt3ars @ilovestarz @lustfulslxt @soimightlikeoldmen69 @tastesousweet @slut4sebastiansallow @whicked-hazlatwhore @stasiesturn @loljackwasfat @nicksmainbitch @ninacutebee16 @mayhem-72 @sturniolosmind @breeloveschris @mattslolita @mattsivy @guccifrog @hysteria-things @mrssturnioloo @koris_009 @patscorner @mayhem-72 @worldlxvlys @nickuniversity @luverboychris @thenickgirl @riasturns @imwetforyourmom @junnniiieee07 @realuvrrr @milasturniolo @fwskullz @hearts4tatemcrae @mattandchrismakemewett @chrissystur @canthelpit0 @strnilo @demistyles @junovrsmp4 @heartsforchrisandmatt @maryx2xx @vecnasnose0 @freshsturns @xxsturnxx @pettydollie @crimsoncorpse @sturnssmuts @sturniolovoid @m0r94n

638 notes · View notes

hxltic · 23 days

Text

𝐖𝐄𝐀𝐑 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐇𝐀𝐓… 𝑴𝑰𝒀𝑨 𝑨𝑻𝑺𝑼𝑴𝑼

Genre: smut

Warning: car sex, mild alcohol mention, fem reader, degradation + praise, pet names: sugar, sweetheart, etc, creampie, birth control

Synopsis: You have been on Atsumu’s ass about he and his brother’s country accent for the longest, so when it comes back around to bite you back on Halloween, you are not ready for it.

A Halloween party!! You’re not sure how it came up in conversation when picking couples’ costumes: police, a Princess and Prince, a scary movie duo; all you know is that ‘Tsumu roared his engine from outside to inform you of his presence while you were rushingly retrieving your perfume.

You had an idea of what he was wearing since you two were supposed to be matching, but he bought you a (super cute) pair of embroidered boots and guided your outfit from afar. Like a personal designer. The shoes with a slight heel on them clacked down your front door steps in the cold night, the brisk air bit at your skin, your breasts rebounded in the low-buttoned flannel, and a holster connected to your ripped jean shorts. The only correct way to style your hair was braided pigtails (even though you are positive this isn’t how someone who actually handles animals would dress) and owning a huge belt to compliment your gorgeous figure even more.

Once you reach the car, ‘Tsumu came around from his side to open your door for you.

Your jaw went slack.

The blonde’s own button down was opened almost farther than yours to reveal his carved chest but a thick belt cut it off. A brown coat to match was being removed from the outfit, one that paired with the folded hat atop his head that left some of his hair to peek out. The dark jeans heavily covered his boots—with an exception for the ends— and were even slightly tainted. The shoes look worn. Has he always had this? Was your boyfriend a country American hottie with an accent and you had no idea? After pulling his long arms out of the garment, he slung it over your shoulders.

“Pick yer jaw up ‘n keep those pretty feet movin’ sweetheart, I know it’s cold.”

He patted your ass twice as if you were a fucking horse instructed to trot, and the worst part was, you obliged and sat in the car with no complaint.

Your eyes trailed his body and face the whole ride. The battery on your phone was slowly rising with it being on the charger, so with nothing to do, it was easy to adore the man to your side before a large, gentle hand was placed on your thigh.

He keeps his eyes on the road before speaking, “There somethin’ on my face?”

You shook your head, “no,” and gazed outside the window until your destination was reached. The last thing you’d do is fuel his ego.

————•————

The liquor in your hand led you around the party, half conscious. You knew it was dangerous—not only drinking—but splitting with Tsumu to get it. Though, you wouldn’t quite say you were in danger, you knew everyone here at least a little bit and was able to pinpoint who was who; but there was a specifically familiar face that caught your attention.

Osamu curled around a stumbling woman once he caught your eye and wrapped an arm around your shoulder, the other hand occupied by a drink as well.

“There y’are, what’s the famous _____ up to? Where’s ma brother?”

You took a sip as he mindlessly walked you around to catch up; you hadn’t been doing anything much, and you had no idea where your boyfriend was.

Speak of the devil, the two of you hit a corner and Tsumu was atop the marble kitchen counter conversing with Sakusa. He reverted his gaze to you, to Osamu, back to you, and cringed a little. It was like a face of disgust with a fake laugh at the end. You were sober enough to see it, but drunk enough for it to piss you off for the rest of the night.

————•————

You turn the knob to the radio up. Whether you were trying to distract yourself from the irritation bubbling in your throat or just ease your mind in general, Atsumu picked up on it. “Fake it till you make it” they’d say, except that you could only hide your emotions to an extent that the liquor would allow.

Having not payed attention to your surroundings, when Atsumu pulled into a scarce parking lot it caught you off guard. His large hand rotated along the leather until he shifted the stick to park, and with a click he locks the doors. If it wasn’t him you’d have assumed you were being kidnapped.

He twists to you, “Kay, what’s the problem?”

“Nuthin partner,” you exclaim with sarcasm dripping off your words. Even if it was a minor look that shouldn’t have bothered you, it did because of the alcohol. And him asking that (with no type of attitude or invalidating tone as if he had no idea) irritated you even more.

His gaze slides back to the windshield while he attempts to hide a growing smirk. It darts back to you in amusement.

“Ya wanna play that way? Alright sweetness.”

He presses down on a glowing button connected to his door that reclines his seat. You only look at him intently as he mimics you with crossed arms, shuffling a bit to flaunt himself getting comfortable before his eyes close.

You stare angrily at him. As angry as you could get when he rests the large cowboy hat over his face. Fuck, he was hot with the thick belt on display and the manspread he boasted.

“What the hell are you doing?” You deadpan anyway.

“Waitin ‘till ya decide to drop the attitude ‘n tell me what’s the matter,” he sighs back.

“Fine, whatever.”

You fall back harshly to the seat and revert your attention to nothing in the windshield. Out of pure spite you’d sit here and count the blades of grass. Which this Atsumu knew, but he’d rather have this than drive you home angry at him.

About five minutes of your hiatus pass. You’ve calmed a bit but not by much, and one of you has to give in. You turn to Atsumu’s resting figure and take a deep breath, asking, “Why did you look at me like that,” unsure if he was asleep or not.

“Like what? When?” He inquires. His voice is slightly muffled by the hat atop his face.

“I don’t know. You like, cringed at me or something.” Your shoulders hunched up in emphasis, “At the party when I walked in.”

It was silence, then he removed the hat from his face to reposition it on his head and sit upright. He turns to you over the console.

“You know I’d never look at ya like that.”

You just gazed at him incredulously. He came in closer. “If anything, you looked too damn good for ma brother’s grubby hands all on ya.”

Ohhh.

You were too stricken to realize how his arm being thrown over you looked having just split apart at the party. Or a slightly tipsy Osamu leading you around, the twin of your boyfriend.

“That’s what it was? You were jealous?” You quipped. This caught his attention.

His jaw ticked, and even though he knows the answer to the question, he’ll refuse to admit it. He hates that word.

Jealous. Jealous of what? He’s the recognized setter. He’s the one with fans in his dm’s (because Osamu ignores his). And he’s the one with you. “What is there to be jealous of?” he’d question himself and his sanity all the time. Hell, he was even born first.

And he wishes to believe that all the time, except that only one of the twins has dyed blonde hair. It sells him out. The urge to be separated—different, is a drive he’s had since he was a child.

Seeing someone with such importance to him in too close of presence to that one person he wanted to be different from fucked him up.

“Sure, but I wouldn’t say jealous.”

You nibbled the inside of your lip and raised a brow, “What would you say?”

“Hmm… irritated, maybe? I know how ya feel about me. It’s sure as hell not how you feel about him.”

“Do you really?” You teased him. “Do you know how I really feel about him?”

“Do I?” He parrots as a grunt. The atmosphere switches to sexual tension in the second it takes for his big brown eyes to scan you as if he was searching for any hint of truth in your words, eventually not finding any but the thought alone shoving him over the edge.

You’re not sure if you were feeling it before, or if it’s the liquor, but that’s how you climbed over the console and into his seat.

His hands were large enough to cover the span of your bottom, large enough to cup whatever he saw fit in those embedded bootcut jeans you’d been wearing all night, and strong enough to guide your hips onto him roughly.

He couldn’t even take his eyes from them. It was so bad that he felt like a 13 year-old again. But he couldn’t help it; not when you filled out the jeans better than the lady on the website and your ass practically waved goodbye at him each time you would turn. A deep groan falls from him at the memory.

His pinkish lips attach to the supple skin at your neck and redden it until he sees fit. You tilt as he kisses the spot like he was relaxing it, then more wet ones trail downwards to the swell of your breasts. You arch upwards and away from him.

Your soft moans mixed with his deep ones cloud your vision. He admires you, copying your movements and leaning back to slowly grind you against himself. There was a tent growing in his jeans at the slot located beneath you.

The loud sound of a honk causes you to physically jolt on top of him and his eyes to find yours. Your back was pressed against the wheel.

It didn’t deter the rush of adrenaline flowing through your bloodstream, so you throw the hand that isn’t pressed against the cool window to your chest in shock.

“Holy shit,” you breathe—half a moan and half surprise. He just chuckles. No slick comment, no anything. You were going to say something else comedic about what happened and how badly of timing it was, but that darkness was already in his eyes and it seemed that he’d forgotten about the situation completely. Or if he hadn’t, he had priorities.

You come forward onto him and rotate your hips along the erection below you to the rhythm he set. You catch the sound that falls from his lips and notice the way his eyebrows deepen and eyes close.

Skipping the softness and diving into territory you knew like the back of your hand, it was so passionate, and everything was so sultry. You could feel the moment heating when you begin to feel his tongue on yours, his head leaning to accommodate for the space lost in your mouth, and his position shifting with you on top because it was more than he could handle to have you sitting directly on top of his strained length.

You pull off, mainly for air, but also to taunt him: “Sometimes, I imagine you with a different hair color. A warm grey, maybe?”

Instead of what you thought he’d say, something about how your anger earlier stemmed from sexual frustration, or an insult about how wet your pussy was for him instead of his brother, his eyes don’t even open. The only confirmation that he heard it was the furrow of his brows and the deep groan. He leans in again immediately to feel you on him and it seems he has dismissed the comment completely.

His breathlessness shows itself to you, asking for you to give him strength, oxygen, or whatever else it was that he needed to live. His lips are puffy and his eyelashes are long.

You intake his bottom lip between your teeth while your fingertips graze his fallen hair, and you cherish the sound he makes when it plops back into place. Your hands rotate to his jaw so your head can turn comfortably into his mouth.

You feel yourself slowly falling forward, but it’s just Atsumu descending to lay flat on his back. The hat ultimately proves this difficult so you take it upon yourself to remove it and rest it on the console.

Then you crawl off him, turn to face the steering wheel, and begin to unbuckle the large accessory and shimmy your small shorts down. The tight space complicates things, but Tsumu doesn’t mind.

When you attempt to twist back to your lover, he grabs your hips firmly, forcing you to stay with your back to him. You glance over your shoulder confused.

He stares back with a smug expression, eyes low and amused at what he’s about to say next.

“Don’t think I’ll forget about yer little comment.”

You think for a moment to pinpoint which one. “Keep yer back to me so you can imagine him all ya want. Maybe you’d prefer it if you were bouncing on his cock instead.”

Your eyes blow wide.

Never in a million years did he think he would become comfortable enough with the topic of jealousy to use it against you like this. But maybe, just maybe, you’ll come to your senses and beg for who’s right in front of (behind) you. There’s no way to lose here, considering he’s 100% secure with your love for him.

“Tsumu you know I didn’t—”

“Ah ah, you’ve made yer choice.”

As punishment, he crosses his arms, making it clear he wouldn’t be touching you. He was essentially allowing you to use him to imagine your supposed attraction to someone else. His twin.

Slowly, you reach behind yourself and feel around for the zipper of his jeans. The cool metal reaches your fingers.

He does lift his hips to push the jeans to his mid-thigh once you get it down, ultimately leaving his length thick and tall between your fingers. The pads of your fingertips soothe up and down his skin when you begin to stroke him.

He makes it a point to ensure his sounds of pleasure are low. Since you teased him about Osamu, you can’t back out now, and it’s his job to make sure it never happens again.

If you were imagining anything, it was Atsumu’s twisted up face of pleasure. So, instead of going through the trouble of completely removing them, you push your panties to the side and hover above his red tip.

And then you’re sinking, sucking him in, bringing him to lean on his elbows for support so he can see. You manage, “that feels good, Tsumu.”

“Osamu,” he rectifies sternly.

He knows what you’re doing. You can’t butter him up. With nothing but your own wetness, it is a long journey to reach the bottom. Once you are, despite being filled all the same, the emotions aren’t right.

The words should have never left your mouth in the first place. Little did you know, his twin brother’s name grinded through Atsumu’s teeth when he said it, triggering a train reaction that tightens his fists at his sides. There’s a distant frown on his face, a far contrast to what you’re thinking it is.

Hopefully helping to reverse your damage, your palms stretch around his knees, aiding to push you to drag your walls all the way up until your thighs clench. It erupts a curse out of him, but that’s all you get.

“Please touch me, Tsumu,” and your hands go back to search for his, and you find them, to place around your hips. You’re slightly breathless. “I was just messing around.”

The muscles tense before retracting back to where they were previously, earning a grunt from you. The newfound irritation drops you back down thigh-to-thigh. There was a slight burn, but nothing you couldn’t handle and nothing compared to the one in your chest.

“You know it’s always been you—” back up you go— “There hasn’t been a situation where I even, fuck, accidentally picked him.” And down again. The slap of skin only gets louder and louder each time. He’s listening, you think.

“Please, I miss f-feeling you. You’re the only one I want.” Your ass jiggles with impact now that you’ve set a pace for yourself. But even then he ignores you and just watches the scene unfolding in front of him, calculating when you’d get tired.

He knows you’ll go until you can’t move and he doesn’t think you’ve ever gone this consistent pace before. You’ll run out of gas in due time.

Meanwhile, it takes a lot to maintain his composure when you’re bouncing in front of him. The pigtails practically ask for his hands to be wrapped around the ends, the length of your back is on display, and your thighs are more defined with your “exercise.” There’s a line of translucent white that connects you and thickens every time you come down. He can only imagine your tits if they were let from the confines of your top.

He’s trying to get you to crack, and you’re trying him, but only one can come out victorious. He concludes it’s him when a long grunt carries in the car and you start to slow right as the heat gathers in your tummy.

“Ugh, Atsumu…” you halt momentarily to correct your hands on his knees, “P-Please, I can’t do this. I’m sorry.” And he can hear the pout in your voice. He doesn’t even want to think about your upturned eyebrows. Frankly, if he does, he may explode on the spot.

“Are ya really?” He tests. You’re happy just to hear his response.

“Yes.”

You drop your head forward, catching your breath and resulting to gyrating your hips along his waist. None of it matters in the end because you finally feel him rip your pigtail back.

In no more than a few seconds you’re bouncing again, both of his hands around your waist to help navigate your vertical movements. A fresh circuit brings power to your legs especially now that you’re doing less than half the work.

The moans and grunts are music to his ears. He can feel the car shift below him even more when he slams you down onto his thighs creating a red tint to the skin there, and it worsens when he gets to thrusting upwards, cutting you off halfway and finding deeper. His tip prods at your g-spot, right up against your front walls.

You don’t get to tell him. Releasing an animalistic noise and tightening up in the span of a second, the suddenness hits you hard. You squeeze his shaft as if milking him dry and your skin glistens with sweat. He loves watching you chase your high like he isn’t even there, but not more than when he drills into your cunt until you can’t take it. Maybe he should turn the air on in here.

When you’re done and come back to earth, you see a mix of your wetness dribbling down the side of him as your breaths feel like ten pound weights. You try again to turn around. He lets you, guiding the shift of your spin around on his tip and the process of finding somewhere to put your feet. You straddle him completely with them to the side of his hips.

You’re shocked when he kisses you, not gently but not as rough, bringing a hard hand down to your ass. Like he forgave you, but not quite.

“Think you can ride one more out f’me?” He caresses your legs.

You think about it. Honestly, your first reply is no, but there’s no better feeling than watching his facial expressions as you do it, and you didn’t get that luxury the last time. Your body may begin to run on its lactic acid because your legs are still trembling from the last orgasm; however, if it meant the sight, then you’d go until you collapsed. “Yes,” you breathe out.

And then you rise up to your toes with the little space you have, determined. With a slow drop and the slide back up, you moan together. “Good fuckin’ girl.” He sends another harsh slap to your cheek just to soothe it out when he’s done.

You watch his eyes flicker closed. His face is red with arousal and his chest was trying to contain the air about to pop out of his lungs. He was cursing under his breath some more.

You keep bouncing and lean forward over him, placing both hands on his cheeks while trying to keep your balance. At the feeling of your soft touch, his eyes blink open, eyebrows still sunken and the darkness clouding his vision.

“Look at me,” you command, hitting his balls every time you come down.

And he does just that, searching either eye above him, a toothy smile spreading across his face with his tired eyes. He laughs almost like it hurts (it does. One wrong move and there’ll be white painting your insides).

You laugh breathlessly too when his hand starts to move. Shifting your focus and following it, he grasps the folded top of the discarded cowboy hat to reach it up over your head. He presses down so it fits snugly.

Over the slapping, you hear him grunt: “Wear the hat, ride the cowboy. Now yer my real cowgirl, yeah?”

Your head drops into his neck, as far as the hat would let you go. “You’re so annoying.” And despite the seemingly cruel words, you suddenly feel the twist in your tummy, tightening around him from trying to stop it coming so fast. A non-convincing, pathetic whimper falls from your lips.

“Yer still fuckin’ yerself on my cock though, aren’t you sugar?”

It may sound strained, but it’s still the aggravating, cocky Atsumu you knew underneath. “Sit up,” he demands.

You do, feeling no self-consciousness as your entire body and spread legs are on display for him with the exception of your chest. On that note, he undoes the buttons faster than you’ve ever seen. Your hands propel you since being placed on your knees when the flannel falls past your shoulders, leaving the regular black bra underneath for him to push past.

He loved it. You’re like a painting, ruined for him, but that’s what makes it art right? The emotion behind it?

“Tsumu, ’m g-gonna come.”

There’s a million things going through his head: that he’s about to as well; that when you get home, he’s coming in right behind you; that your breasts look so pretty bouncing in front of him like the rest of you; but in your head, there’s one thing only. The pressure built that is almost at its peak. “Ya think Osamu knows how to play witcha like this? How to fuck ya like this?”

You shake your head no. He looks so determined watching you, it doesn’t shock you when he hastily raises upright and wraps a hand around your breast. His thumb continuously rolls over your nipple. “My name is the only one you’ll scream, ever. Ain’t that right?”

You don’t see the other that has crept up between your open legs, now pinching and prodding at your clit. Weakly, you nod yes.

He looks up at you in your eyes, like he’s trying to reach the deepest part of you with his next words. “Let me see you.”

Your hands relocate to his neck desperately. One thing you can say about Atsumu during sex, he’s extremely vocal. And isn’t afraid to say anything. “I’m—”

“Come all over me, baby, ya earned it. I’ll fuck this pretty pussy just how ya like when we get home.”

The crazy part is, it wasn’t even the encouragement that sent you over the edge. No, it was when both his hands locked around your hips, dragged you all the way down until you were against his pelvis, then rocked you back and forth, rubbing right into your sensitive nerves with the depth you couldn’t reach before and right along your clit. You threw your head back, crying his name.

It’s a chain reaction because all of his muscles tighten simultaneously, as well as his balls, and his cock twitches strong inside of you. You moan again at the feeling of his cum spreading through you. “Fuck.”

He’s still in a state of bliss when you sink into him, spurting out more than you think he ever has. It fills you up full, but you don’t move. You both stay there for a moment, catching your breaths.

The window is fully fogged over so you draw a little heart.

“Don’t move,” he pleads. “It’s worse fer you than it is fer me.”

You wiggle a bit, feeling everything else move inside. You see what he means. “We have to get up set some point before we fall asleep,” you return. There’s just a groan back.

Reaching over into the glove department, you retrieve some takeout napkins that have piled up over the months. You mentally prepare yourself to move.

It’s not enough because you both moan loudly when you raise up, only waiting a moment before white comes falling out of you in heaps onto his angry red, engorged, cock. “Shit,” he grins tiredly. “That’s a lot.”

You only look at him. “You’re gonna override my birth control dipshit.”

He adds languidly: “Oh well. Take 2 to cancel it out this time? Maybe?”

That’s not how it works.

©️ hxltic

404 notes · View notes

bizbat · 2 months

Note

HEYY!! What about Jaybird with an s/o whos also a vigilante and she’s like super serious and quiet, Her outfit for fighting is like super duper revealing aswell so add nsfw :3

(If ur comfortable with it!!)

It's The Suit

🕸️Spiderverse Masterlist🕸️

🐼JJK Masterlist🐼

~ Jason Todd x Fem!AFAB!Reader

~ Explicit Smut

~ Reader is mentioned to have "plush thighs", but appearance is otherwise not described.

~ Wc: 2.4K

~ You can find more of my works here.

C/W: Smut, Pet names (Angel, Doll, Slut, Baby, Princess) Mdom, Groping, Light Choking, Spit, Creampie, Cunnilingus/Analingus (Jason eats it from the back) Use of the terms "cunt", "mound", "tits", "slutty", "pussy", Pussy Smacking, Public Sex, Begging, Pussyjob

There's just something about that suit . . .

"You know, you are technically on my turf." His voice is crisp in your ear. It seems he only ever puts what Batman taught him to use when he wants to mess with you. "If you were anyone else I'd have dropped you off Gotham Bridge by now."

"How sweet . . ." You respond in a monotone voice. You're laid on your stomach, perched on top of a building with a set of binoculars in front of your face. You're more focused on the perp you've been trailing all week than your . . . boyfriend? Friend with benefits? Guy you sometimes go out to eat with, and have sex with regularly? Doesn't matter, you're doing your best not to pay any attention to him.

"Are you sure you're not cold in that thing?"

You wish he would do the same. He knows how much comments about your costume bother you, but he can't help it! It's just a little thing, barely big enough to hide, well, anything really. He can't tell you how many times he's seen it ride up between your cheeks, or be so taut against your body that he can see your nipples poking through on extra cold nights. Not to mention the cutouts on your sides and chest.

If it was made out of any other material you could probably wear it to a club and leave with a couple hundreds stuffed in it.

He's already reaching for your body before he even realizes it. It's too late to stop now, his hands are already stroking their way up from your calves. It's frankly beyond him at this point. "It's just so . . . tiny."

"Everyone always says that." You squirm, your leg subconsciously kicking up when he brushes over that sensitive spot on the back of your knee. "Black Canary basically wears the same thing, and no one ever says anything about her suit." You mumble, still not turning to face him. Jason can't help but be amused by your response. "No, she doesn't, and yes, they do." He presses his thumb into your skin, massaging the tense muscles beneath his gloved fingertips.

"Jay, I-I have to fo-" "Shhh, I know, I know," You try to push his hands back, your skin becoming more and more sensitive the higher he gets. It doesn't help that he's applying the perfect amount of pressure. "Just . . . focus baby, alright? Focus for me." It's hard to do what he says when he's slipped off his helmet and is now pressing feathery kisses to your exposed skin.

Still though, you try, pulling the now discarded binoculars back to your face and hoping he decides to cease his ministrations. Unfortunately for you, he's got no plans to stop any time soon. "What's he doing, baby?" His hands inch closer and closer to the dip between your legs, his hands squeezing and tugging at the fat of your upper thighs. "Tell me." He says sternly.

Your hands clench around the binoculars. You have to take a few breaths to calm yourself enough to answer him. "He-he's ah-" His thumbs are working their way under your suit, teasingly stroking your lips. "He's leaving n-now, probably headed-Jason!" He laughs again, he knows he's been pushing it. "What, doll? What's wrong?" He says, as if he didn't just have his face between your thighs, his lips gently kissing your pussy through your suit.

"I told you to focus," He says with a smirk, his hips almost grinding into the concrete below him. "Don't you worry 'bout what I'm doing, yeah?" He only continues, two of his fingers brushing against your mound as he plays with the band of your suit, tugging it away from your heat so he can get better access. Try as you might, he pokes at your folds with his tongue, the wet muscle barely dancing against your lips.

You can't stop your hips from swaying back to meet his face, begging for him to use more pressure. The tips of Jason's ears burn at your tiny gasps, the cute little noises only encouraging him to try and make you louder. His hand, the one not tugging at your suit, begins its attack on your ass, grabbing and squeezing your soft, doughy flesh. By now you've completely lost sight of the guy you were trailing, your hips chasing his face.

You moan his name, the binoculars once again thrown to the side, as you rise to your knees, your chest still parallel to the concrete roof beneath you. "Ohh, that's it angel," Jason finally stops toying with the stretchy fabric of your suit, pulling it to the side of your ass so he can finally see all of you. "Such a pretty pussy. So wet for me." He sticks his tongue out, pressing it flat against your folds, before licking a stripe all the way up to your asshole, circling it with his tongue.

He shallowly wriggles his tongue inside, just deep enough for you to reach back and push at his head with a whine. He laughs, lightly smacking your ass before kissing the puckered hole, and lowering his head back down to your pussy. "Alright doll, I get it, I get it." He uses two of his fingers to spread your lips, putting your dripping cunt for him.

He kisses you there too, before winding back and spitting a fat (unnecessary) glob of spit directly onto your clit. He works too well, sucking and licking exactly when and where you need him to, his pace slowly speeding up. The way he moans into you, it's as if it's just as pleasurable for him as it is for you. And it must be, the way his cock is straining against his zipper like this. God, you've got no idea what you do to him, especially in that tiny, slutty little suit of yours.

And dear God, he starts using his fingers, and your vision blurs and your back arches even deeper. Your chest heaves as he pumps his fingers in and out, curling against your g spot everytime, all while his tongue still swirls against your clit, flicking and circling the perky nub. Your hand finds its way into his hair, your fingers curling around the inky locks as he drinks up your juices. Jason groans at the feeling of your slick practically pouring down his chin.

It's a wonder how he's even able to breathe, his face so deep between your plush thighs. Not like he cares, though, if he could choose a way to go out again, it'd be with his face buried deep in your cunt. He's in heaven, he swears it. He can hear the sound of those pearly gates opening, though that might just be the sound of your sweet, sweet broken moans. That, combined with a lack of oxygen. Besides that, you can't tell him he's not eating out an angel right now.

Eventually though, he rips himself away, loudly sucking air into his lungs so he doesn't actually go to heaven. He curses his body for needing air to breathe. Maybe he can use "increasing his lung capacity" as an excuse to eat you out later, not now though. Right now, his cock is so painfully hard from being neglected, he's struggling to form proper thoughts.

"You ready for me, doll? S' this slutty pussy ready to take me?" He asks, ripping off his belt and shoving his pants down just enough for his cock to spring out. With the amount of spit and slick dripping down your thighs, it's a stupid question, but he absolutely refuses to fuck you unless you say you're ready for him. Part of you thinks its a consent thing, which is great, more guys should be like that, but part of you knows it's because he wants to hear you, little Ms. Stoic, begging for his cock.

You're on the verge of tears, your eyes completely unfocused at the feeling of his fat tip smacking against your weeping cunt. "Jay," You moan, your voice barely above a whisper. "Please, Jay . . ." He shakes his head. He's losing his mind, but the small bit he's still clinging onto won't let you get away with that, he's gotta make you beg for him. "C'mon, slut, I know you can do much better 'n that." He ruts against your cunt, his cock hard and red from waiting.

He smacks your ass again, hypnotized by the way it jiggles beneath his palm. Precum oozes deliciously from his tip, adding even more lubrication to your already soaked hole. He could cum just from the sight of your pretty lips glistening under the moon light and street lamps. He's so close to just giving in and making both of you feel good, when he hears your voice breaking through his clouded thoughts.

He feels like he's got water in his head, though your little "Please uck me Jay, need your cock," is loud and clear. Without further stalling, he lines his aching tip up with your hole, awestruck at the way it clenches around nothing, before he finally sinks in, after what felt like hours and hours of foreplay. You almost collapse, the only thing preventing your hips from dropping to the side is Jason's firm grasp on your suit, using the cutouts on your side as leverage to pull you back against him.

Even through all the wetness, he stretches you out, his cock filling you up so perfectly it makes your eyes roll back into your skull. Jason's head lolls back, a deep groan escaping the bottom of his chest at the feeling of your tight, slick walls gripping his cock. "Fuckin' perfect," He doesn't waste any time, his hips slowly moving to drag his cock back and forth inside you, his tip catching along your walls.

He's mindlessly babbling at this point, cooing about how good you feel, about how you were made for his cock, his hands white-knuckle gripping your suit. He speeds up, his cock tapping against your cervix in a way that has your stomach doing flips. "Faster Jay! Please, please please!" You pant, your ass bouncing against his pelvis as your hips chase after his.

How could he deny you when your voice is like honey in his ears, and your skin feels like silk. He feels his balls tighten at your moans, his body physically reacting to your sobs, your pleads. You've got no idea what it does to his ego, to hear his favorite, icy, little princess crying for his cock. Or at least, what it would do for his ego if he wasn't solely focused on cramming every inch of his cock deep inside your tight heat.

He thrusts faster, his tip smacking rhythmically against your cervix at a bruising pace. "So fuckin' messy, this pretty pussy's so fuckin' messy," He huffs, his chest tightening with every stroke as he feels your gummy walls closing around him tightly. Without even thinking about it, he reaches down and frantically rubs at your clit, already sensitive from his mouth. "Shit, baby, ya' close?" He pulls out without warning, flipping you over onto your back and pushing your knees up to your chest, before sinking back inside you.

"Can feel ya, ngh, feel so fuckin' good." He ends each sentence with his cock. He holds your legs down with his broad shoulders, his chest pressed against yours. One hand reaches back down to rub at your clit again, his ears ringing with delight at your moans. "Shit, shit, shit, shit," He huffs against your ear. "So close baby, so close." He nips and licks at your neck, his teeth occasionally tugging at your earlobe as his orgasm looms closer and closer.

Your tears run down either side of your pretty face, your skin so hot you're almost steaming in the cool Gotham air. You're just as gone as he is, if not more, your arms limply draped across your face as you mindlessly take all the pleasure he gives you. "Want-want it, Jay," You coo in his ear, or at least you think you do, your mouth is open but you can't tell if any words are actually coming out.

"Cum for me baby, let it out, need you to cum." He's begging you, his fingers losing any type of rhythm and structure, his hand grinding down desperately against your poor, tired nub. Is he crying? He feels something wet on his face, but he can't tell if it's from you or him. You aren't too far from him, lightheaded from the force of your legs pressed to up your neck.

You just need a little more, just a little more, you can feel it. You're right there, right there, right there! Are you yelling? Whatever. Your orgasm hits you so fast and so hard you're pretty sure you black out for a second. You feel like you're on a boat, the warm sun shining brightly on your skin, your body gently rocking along the tide. The waves speed up, but you're mostly numb by now, the heavy crashing barely disturbing your peaceful state of mind. The only reason you're brough out of your delusions is because you can feel something against your lips.

Your vision clears, though it's still a bit hazy. Jason's still on top of you, his eyes nearly cross as he peppers sloppy, wet kisses along your face, not even conscious enough to aim for your mouth as he begs you to cum, not realizing you already have. He's so used to making you cum first that his body won't even let him cum until he knows you have. That, of course, doesn't do him much good when he's not cognizant.

Realizing as much, you use the small amount of strength you have left in your face to hold his face still, pulling him close enough to press your lips to his. He thrust a few more times, before his hips still inside you, his thick, warm seed spilling out and staining both of your clothing with white. Sweat drips down his forehead, soaking his hair and tantalizingly trickling down his neck. He leans back, allowing your legs, which are completely useless by now, to slip off his shoulders, before he finally collapses on top of you.

You cradle his head in the crook of your neck, silently brushing the hair along his neck with your fingers, as you both rest in one anothers embrace. When your brain starts working again you'll chew him out for ruining your stakeout. For now, you'll settle with a raspy sigh. "You always do this." You sound more annoyed than you are.

He shrugs, dead serious with his response, his head still resting on your shoulder. "It's the suit, not my fault."

#bizbat #dc #jason todd x reader #jason todd smut #jason todd #red hood x reader #red hood #red hood smut

496 notes · View notes

roosterforme · 2 months

Text

The Younger Kind Part 57 | Rooster x Reader

Summary: Bradley gets home in time to take care of you when you need him the most, and he's ready to push aside his own exhaustion to let Noah celebrate Halloween. Announcements and plans are made, including some that you're looking forward to a lot more than Bradley is.

Warnings: pregnancy topics, mentions of miscarriage, swearing, smutty blowjob, angst, fluff, and age gap (18+)

Length: 4100 words

Pairing: Single dad!Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw x babysitter!female reader

Check out my masterlist for more! The Younger Kind masterlist.

When Noah woke up on Halloween, he made his way into the kitchen, rubbing his eyes as he went. Then he stopped short next to the table. "Daddy?"

Bradley spun around to see his son standing there in disbelief. "Hey, Bub," he said as a smile bloomed across his face. "I missed you." He knelt down, and Noah immediately trotted across the room and right into his open arms. "I made it back just in time to go trick-or-treating with you."

He kissed Noah's cheek and buried his nose in his son's soft curls, inhaling the scent of home. "We're all going to go," Noah said with conviction. "Even Skittles has a costume. And Aunt Natasha is going to get one, too. She promised."

"Then I guess it will be a party," Bradley told him, deciding now wasn't the best time to mention that you may rather spend the evening in bed. "Are you hungry?" he asked, standing up with his son in his arms, simply because he wasn't ready to stop holding him. "Do you want pancakes?"

Bradley knew it was bad when a four year old looked at you like he was convinced anything you tried to cook would be inedible. "Can Mommy make them?"

"Wow," Bradley said, trying not to laugh. He was pretty convinced five minutes ago that he'd be able to follow the directions on the box, but maybe not. "Do you really think Mommy is that much better at cooking than I am?"

"Yes. She is. Can she make the pancakes?"

Bradley laughed and kissed his cheek again. "How about I give it the old college try since Mommy is still sleeping, okay?" He held Noah while he measured out the water, but when it was time to crack an egg, he set him down at the table with a glass of milk and an activity book that you or Nat must have got for him. He looked at the egg, not quite trusting himself, and he cracked it into a bowl instead directly into the pancake mix. He ended up picking pieces of the shell out of the bowl, but once he started to stir everything together, it looked pretty damn good.

"Okay," he muttered, wondering if you'd want to eat breakfast in bed if he managed to pull this off. He should order one of those tray tables for you to use. He dumped some of the batter into the hot pan and started to look online for a purple tray when he got a little distracted.

"Daddy," Noah said, pointing to the stove as soon as Bradley smelled the pancake starting to burn.

"Shit," he muttered under his breath, setting his finally fully charged phone aside. "It's okay, I'll eat this one," he promised, flipping it over with a spatula to reveal a blackened, smoking mess. Now he paid close attention to what he was doing, and the next ones turned out pretty well, but it was too late.

"What did you burn?" you asked from the doorway with a smile. When Bradley tossed the spatula aside and rushed to your side, you said, "For a minute there, I thought it was all a dream, and that you weren't really home yet at all. But then I smelled something burning and knew you must be."

He wrapped one arm around your waist, tilted your chin up with his fingers and kissed you, hoping to convey just how badly he had missed you. He didn't stop until Noah asked, "Mommy, can you make the pancakes?"

"Let's let Mommy rest," Bradley replied, stroking your neck with his fingertips. "Do you want me to bring a plate of food into the bedroom?" he asked you.

You shook your head and whispered, "I'm okay. I might take a nap later, but I'm fine, Daddy." Then you took his hand gently in yours and brought it to rest on your belly. "So is this little one."

"I wouldn't have blamed you," he blurted out, and you tucked your face against his chest. As your arms snaked around his waist, he said, "I would have been sad, but only because I'm so excited for the baby. But I wouldn't have blamed you or been upset with you, Princess."

You nodded and whispered, "I know. It was so scary though. And I don't think I could have gone much longer without you here."

"I'm home. And I'm cooking and doing everything. You've got nothing to worry about."

"Mommy, please," came Noah's exasperated voice. "The pancakes."

You started laughing against Bradley. "Do you want dinosaur pancakes?" you asked, and Noah gasped in delight. "I'll take that as a yes. Step aside, Daddy. Watch and learn."

But he didn't step aside. He stood behind you with his chin resting on your shoulder and told you over and over again how much he loved you while you prepared the most adorable breakfast he'd ever seen in his life. You cut up a pancake to look like a stegosaurus body and added spikes made out of sliced strawberries. You used part of a banana as the neck, and added chocolate chips as eyes.

"Damn," Bradley said. "That's almost as cute as you are. Can I have one, too?" Then you cut up the burned pancake and made a much less cute looking dinosaur while he laughed the whole time. "Thanks. That's exactly how I wanted it."

"You're welcome," you told him with a smirk as you took some of the good pancakes for yourself. He guided you over to the table with all of the plates of breakfast, and Noah abandoned his book while he clapped his hands.

"Thank you, Mommy," he said as he shoved some strawberries into his mouth.

Then Bradley guided you down onto his lap and held you while you ate. "It's good to be home. When you're done eating, I want you to get back in bed and wait for me," he whispered, tracing your side gently with his fingers while he stuck his fork into his burnt dinosaur pancake.

"Oh, I'm sorry," you said softly. "We can't do that. Not for a few more weeks. The doctors said my uterus has to thicken a bit more, and I-"

"Baby," Bradley said a little louder. "No. Don't apologize. I don't care about that. I want you to rest, but I also want to show you the books I bought in Tokyo."

You looked at him over your shoulder, and he kissed your cheek. "I want you to know that I did miss you that way, too."

"I missed you in every way imaginable, Princess."

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

Bradley ended up carefully carrying you to bed as you yawned, and he promised to clean up the kitchen and get things ready for Halloween.

"I want you to relax," he said for at least the tenth time as he dug around in his still unpacked duffle bag. "I'll take Noah out to buy some pumpkins in a little bit, and I'll leave you a sandwich in the fridge that you can eat when you want it. But in the meantime, look how cool these are."

He sat on the edge of the bed next to your thigh and handed you a stack of Japanese children's books. You smiled and looked at the covers. They ranged from some meant for a baby to ones that Noah would be interested in when he started school. "You were really thinking about your family the whole time, huh?"

"Every second I was gone," he promised, leaning down to kiss you. He would take care of everything, and Nat promised she'd come back later, and you really did almost feel like you could relax. But you still felt a little guilty even as he ran his lips and mustache along your cheek to your ear and whispered your name.

"You must be exhausted and jetlagged," you told him. "You're the one who should be resting."

He just shook his head, kissed you one more time and said, "I'll call Nat if I need her. Otherwise, I'm perfect because I'm with you. Rest."

Then he was gone, and you drifted off into the kind of beautiful sleep where you didn't have to worry about what time it was or when Noah needed to eat again. When you woke up after noon to a completely silent house, you ate your sandwich and then went right back to bed. Eventually Noah's laughter and the warm afternoon light that seemed impossible to sleep through had you out of bed again, but when you looked around the house, you didn't see anyone. The back door was open, and when you went into the kitchen, you saw Bradley and Noah carving pumpkins on the deck.

You walked outside in the random clothing you'd been sleeping in, and as soon as the sun hit your face, you didn't feel as exhausted anymore. "Mommy's up!" Noah cheered, jumping up to hug you with his slimy, orange hands.

"Don't touch her until you wash your hands, Bub," Bradley called out with a grimace. "Too late."

"It's okay," you told him, kissing the top of Noah's head. "Are you happy Daddy made it home in time for Halloween?"

He looked up at you with a little crease along his brow. "I knew he would. That's why we bought him a costume."

"Speaking of which," Bradley said as he kissed your cheek without putting his messy hands on you, "it's almost time to get changed to go collect candy."

"And ride in the wagon!" Noah exclaimed.

"What wagon?" you asked.

"You'll see," Bradley replied with a little smirk.

After a leisurely shower during which you didn't have to worry about anything except yourself, you dressed in your princess costume that you and Noah picked out from the Halloween warehouse and put on some makeup. Then you added your brand new crown, and you thought you looked pretty incredible. When you walked out to the living room and saw Noah dressed as a little prince, your heart melted.

"Sweet Noah," you gushed as he held onto his treat bag, all ready to go. He was wearing his yellow paper crown that Bradley managed to procure from some unknown spot in the house, and he just looked precious.

"I like your crown, Mommy," he said, pointing to the gold one you were wearing.

You smiled. "I like my purple paper crown better."

"Don't laugh." You turned to see Bradley standing behind you in his rather ill fitting knight costume. It kind of looked like he was wearing aluminum foil that was a size too small, but he had a smile on his face, and his costume crinkled when you hugged him. "Hey, Mav and Penny are planning to stop by to take some photos with Noah, but if you want me to call them back and tell them we just want a quiet evening, I can do that."

You shook your head against his crunchy costume as you laughed. "We should tell them about the baby when they get here."

"Yeah?" he asked excitedly. "You want to?"

"I mean, Nat and Javy know. Dr. Kelly knows. I think Mav and Penny should know now, too."

"I love this idea," he whispered, letting his fingers gently glide along the front of your dress. "You're feeling better now?"

You nodded, but Noah didn't really let you answer before he started clapping as he looked out the front door. "Aunt Natasha is back!"

She walked in dressed as a jester and picked Noah up to give him a kiss. A minute later, Maverick, Penny and Amelia were all there as well, and phones were being passed around along with Noah, because everyone wanted their picture with the tiny prince.

"Okay, let me take one of everyone in front of the pumpkins on the porch," Bradley said as he collected a few phones in his hands and headed outside. He smirked at you as he added, "Everyone needs to squeeze together a little bit more. Make sure both of my kids are in there."

"Both?" Penny asked before she gasped, and the first photo Bradley took was of her turning to look at you with wide eyes. "Both?!"

"I'm pregnant," you announced with a smile, and the second photo Bradley took was of everyone else with wide eyes, too. And he snapped a few more where Nat was holding Noah with a grin on her face while the others all hugged you.

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

After a brief argument on your end, Bradley managed to get you and Noah both settled into the oversized wagon he bought earlier this afternoon. Then he clipped Skittles' leash on before attaching her tiny crown to her head. "There we go. The royal family is now complete."

"Have fun!" Nat called out, waving from the front porch with the bowl of candy, already crowded with neighborhood kids looking for their treats.

"I don't need to be pulled in a wagon all night," you protested as Bradley scoffed.

"What kind of knight would I be if I wasn't doting on the two of you." Skittles barked, so he added, "I meant the three of you."

"Four," you said, pointing to your belly as he pulled the wagon down the driveway.

"My point is," he said loudly, "I will be doting on my entire family all night long, and there's nothing you can do about it. Please keep your arms and legs inside the royal carriage until we come to a complete stop."

He very dutifully pulled up to each house before lifting Noah out and taking him up to collect his piece of candy. Bradley got the chance to enjoy so many of his neighbors telling him how sweet his son looked, and he kept reminding Noah to say thank you. After about an hour, two treat bags had been filled up with candy, and you looked like you were having fun. You even started waving from the wagon at everyone you passed like a real princess would.

"This is really fun," you said, holding on to Noah as Bradley turned another corner.

"I love Halloween!" his son shouted.

Truthfully, it was a bit of a challenge for Bradley to pull the wagon, keep Skittles from barking at the other kids, and take Noah up to each house and back, but he wasn't about to complain. Not after everything you'd done and been through while he was in Japan. But he would sleep well tonight. That was a given.

"I think this was the last house," Bradley said, stifling his own yawn. "Feel like chatting about our wedding on the way back home?" he asked as Noah yawned as well and settled down in the wagon with you.

It was hard to read your face in the darkness. "What do you want to chat about?" you asked softly.

"How soon will you let me marry you?"

You laughed and said, "How soon do you want to get married?"

"Tomorrow?"

"Hmm," you hummed. "Seems like that would be short notice for wedding guests."

"We don't need wedding guests," he said, and he meant it. "You still want to use our backyard?"

"Yes."

Bradley slowed down over a particularly uneven part of the sidewalk. "Are you still set on Valentine's Day? Because I'm thinking Christmas."

"Christmas?" you repeated. "Like less than two months from now?"

Bradley pulled the wagon up the driveway past the Bronco, and of course Noah was sound asleep. As soon as he scooped his son off of your lap, Nat came rushing over from her seat on the porch. "I can get him changed and put him in bed."

He didn't argue with her, rather he handed Noah off and focused on helping you out of the wagon. "Yeah. Less than two months from now. I keep thinking about how you threw me a Christmas in July birthday party. We could have a Christmas wedding, too. And after that, we can start the adoption process."

You moaned his name as he took your hand and headed for the house. "You know the way to my heart is through Noah."

He straightened out your crown, still rather fond of your purple one which was sitting safely on his dresser. "Is that a yes?" he whispered, kissing you softly while a few remaining kids ran down the sidewalk laughing. "We can make it official? And I can take care of you forever?"

"Yes."

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

Bradley helped you out of your princess costume after he stripped out of his knight costume, and his lips met the bare skin of your shoulder immediately. "I love you," he murmured, taking you by the hand and leading you toward the bed. But it didn't feel sexual. You knew that wasn't why he was being exceptionally wonderful right now.

"I love you, too."

His forehead came to rest against yours, and his hands were so gentle on your hips. "I'm just relieved to be home. And I'm sorry I wasn't here last week. If something worse had happened to you while I was gone, when you really needed me, I don't know what I would have done."

"We're all okay," you whispered, pushing him until he was sitting down on the bed looking up at you. "And I feel a lot better since I've been resting more." Your skin felt warm and tingly as he kissed you. Six weeks was a long time, and you knew Bradley hadn't even had access to all of the photos and videos on his phone to keep him company. And you did want it to feel sexual, because you missed every bit of him.

"Lay back on your pillow and wait for me," you told Bradley with a smile, using his words against him.

He did as he was told and patted the spot next to him as he said, "Does that mean you're ready to snuggle with me?"

"Something like that, Daddy."

As soon as you licked your lips and reached for the front of his sweatpants, his eyes went wider. "No, Baby. You don't have to do that."

"I want to," you promised, pulling the fabric down to reveal his soft length. He still looked delicious even like this. You desperately wanted him in your mouth. You met his eyes and whispered, "Please?"

He was panting softly, the rise and fall of his chest so alluring even through his undershirt. He moaned your name and made a strangled sound before he reached for your hand. When he sat up slowly and kissed you gently, he placed your hand on his cock, and he immediately throbbed for you.

As you rubbed your thumb down his length and along his balls, he grew harder. "You missed me touching you like this," you sang in a quiet voice, watching him as he watched your hand. When his eyes flitted back to your face he nodded. "Tell me you did, Bradley."

He swallowed hard, and his voice was so raspy, your hand faltered. "I missed you like this. I thought about your body when I touched myself, but my hands aren't as soft and perfect as yours."

"Daddy," you whimpered, leaning down to kiss away his precum before taking him between your lips.

But he continued on as you sucked, driving you as wild as you were driving him. "I thought about you with a pregnant belly. I thought about how much I'm going to love fucking you when you're big and round. Big because of my baby."

You took him deep, letting him tap the back of your throat as you saw stars along your vision. "Fuck! Princess! I'm not even gonna last."

Slowly, you let your lips glide back up his length, sucking all the way to his tip. "Then just go ahead and come, Daddy. I want you to."

When he collapsed back against the pillow and tucked one arm beneath his head, you took him deep again. He wasn't kidding, because you could see the veins in his neck as his face grew pink, and you knew he was already close. You didn't rush him along, but you bobbed to a pace that left him grabbing at the bedding with his free hand.

"Baby!" he whined, rolling his hips up until you were starting to gag, and then he came. You were sputtering, swallowing him down as quickly as you could as your name fell from his lips over and over again. "Come up here," he demanded, and when you crawled toward him as you licked your lips clean, he gathered you carefully in his arms.

You never felt as loved as you did when you were with him. His body was perfectly warm and everything you had been missing. His voice calmed every part of you. "December," he whispered as he played with your engagement ring. It took you a moment to realize what he meant as he kissed at your lips. "December. We'll get married. We'll all be Bradshaws. Me and you and Noah and the baby. That's all I need."

"And Skittles."

"Please. She's my best non-human friend. It's unspoken."

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

When Bradley promised to meet you at your lunchtime appointment with your obstetrician on Wednesday, you were a little skeptical.

"Even if I have to flip off Admiral Simpson and tell him to go fuck himself, I will be there."

You had laughed at the time, but you should have known he wouldn't miss a chance to interrogate your doctor in his flight suit. He stood next to you as you were told to lie back on the table for a pelvic exam, and he kept his eyes on you through the uncomfortable experience, looking down at you like you were the best thing in the world.

"Does she need another progesterone shot today?" he asked softly as you reached for his hand. "And are you going to monitor her with more appointments? And will we get to see an ultrasound?"

"Yes, yes, and yes." Your doctor looked at you and said, "We'll monitor you more closely even after you're done with the injections. We are going to consider you high risk."

"High risk?" you gasped. "That sounds very bad."

"It's not!" he insisted as he guided you to sit up a little bit. "It just means you and the baby get extra attention."

Bradley looked the doctor in the eye and said, "She wants to go to Disneyland for a day or two. Is that even okay?"

You were ready to pout and tell both of them that you felt fine now. There had been no more blood. You were getting plenty of rest. Then he said the words you'd been hoping to hear. "Disneyland would be fine. Just don't overdo it."

"Yes!" you cheered. "Noah will be so excited! Let's go for Thanksgiving!"

Bradley opened his mouth, and you could tell he wanted to protest, but your doctor started to spread gel on your belly, and then the baby was visible on the screen on the wall when the ultrasound started up. "Oh damn," Bradley whispered, suddenly mesmerized by what he saw as he gripped your hand tighter. "Look at the heartbeat. Look at the baby."

"Does he or she look healthy?" you asked, mesmerized as well.

"Very healthy, but we will keep a close eye on things."

When Bradley walked you back to your car which was parked next to the Bronco, you pulled him to a stop. You wrapped your arms around his waist, and your scrubs rubbed gently against his flight suit. "Will you please let me plan a few days at Disneyland?"

"Two days," he replied immediately, clearly already resigned to his fate. "And you have to stay hydrated. And if you even start to look tired, I'm going to push you around in a wheelchair. And if you say anything hurts, we're leaving immediately."

"Disney!" you practically screamed as you bobbed up and down in his grasp and kissed his cheek. "I can't wait to tell Noah! I'll see you at home later, Daddy."

"I'll pick Noah up along with dinner. When I get home you better have your feet up and a glass of water in your hand."

"I will," you promised, matching his serious expression with one of your own. "I'll be very careful. And I'll plan our little vacation. And you'll take exceptional care of everything else."

"You know I will."

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

We should all have a Bradley in our lives to let us rest and heal when we need to. That man is going to take care of everything and probably plan a wedding, too. Is Nat also going to Disneyland? Thanks @mak-32 and @beyondthesefourwalls

PART 58

@hotch-meeeeeuppppp

@chassy21

@solacestyles

@daisyhollyxox

@wintercap89

@blog-name6996

@bcon24

@chaoticassidy

@avada-kedavra-bitch-187

@katiebby04

@marantha

@averyhotchner

@abaker74

@heli991113

@k-k0129

@noz4a2

@shanimallina87

@little-wiseone

@ccbb2222

@xoxabs88xox

@thedroneranger

@cherrycola27

@fanboyswhore9

@xomrsalliej4787xo

@desert-fern

@sylviebell

@wkndwlff

@horseslovers2016

@gennyanydots

@mattyskies

@hookslove1592

@blahehblah

@sadpetalsstuff

@local-spidey

@schoollover

@lex-winchester

@magicalmorg

@nicole01-23

@jessicab1991

@happyrebelruins

@samsgoddess

@ughthisisntright

@bellaireland1981

@sagittarius-flowerchild

@mygyn

@yuckosworld

568 notes · View notes

peachsukii · 3 months

Note

Okay I’m back I’m sorry your writing is like cocaine to me idk you’re awesome-

Bakugou x reader where they’re on a mission and it involves a teams of heroes to dress up like Dynamight to confuse the enemy??? Just like Bakugou’s reaction to seeing his girlfriend decked out in his gear like 😭😭😭

but like picture like reader trying to fit Bakugou into a version of her costume too-

Ohkay I’m going even further now- Bakugou and reader wearing formal wear modeled after each other at a Hero’s gala to debut their relationship to the world???? I can just imagine after the mission they just really like wearing each other’s stuff-

Anyways you’re amazing have an amazing day!!

I’m so so sorry this took me so long to get to! You’re the sweetest!! 🥰 thank you so much for rec and coming back! I’ve enjoyed the ideas you’ve suggested so much and hope you like this one. 💖✨

Substitute Gear

『 ♡』 k.bakugo x fem!reader ꒰ pro-hero au | age 24 | lovers (bf/gf) ꒱ ⇢ bakugo and reader are joking around in their apartment one night when they decide to try on each others costumes! this leads to a fun inspiration for the upcoming hero gala as their agencies recommend for them to reveal their relationship officially. Why not do it in style?

꒰ tags & warnings ꒱ no cw minus cursing | fun & fluffy ꒰ cross posted to ao3 | wc; ~1.1k ꒱ -`✧ katsuki bakugo masterlist

“Ugh, what an ugly shift,” you complain as you’re walking through the front door of your apartment. You’re kicking off your dirty boots in the entryway when Katsuki comes to greet you.

“Long day?” He asks, analyzing how filthy your hero suit is. It doesn’t stop him from giving you a light peck on the lips to welcome you home.

“More like what didn’t happen today. A kid threw up on me, and when I washed that off, some asshole bled all over me when I cuffed him! To top it all off, I tripped and fell into the mud while in pursuit of a robbery. Head first!”

As you’re rattling off the laundry list of shitty things that happened during the day, Katsuki’s silently instructing you to take the suit off. He spins you around, unzipping the neck piece and carefully removing all of your components and accessories.

“I broke my damn helmet in that fall,” you groan, wiping dried dirt from your cheek.

“Better than your head, dumbass,” Katsuki counters. “Ya got extras, no use cryin’ over one of ‘em.”

You shimmy the suit off of your shoulders and pull out of the material one limb at a time.

“You’d think as heroes, there’d be a professional laundry service or something,” you complain, letting your suit crumple on the floor. It comically puffs out a dried cloud of grime.

Katsuki stifles a laugh. “Weird way of sayin’ I do all your laundry. Get your ass in the shower, you reek.” He smacks your barely-covered ass to get you moving, continuing to snicker to himself as you waddle down the hallway.

───

After a long and hot shower, you emerge from the bathroom with a dramatic haze of steam following you.

“Ya done yet, peach? Dinners done,” Katsuki calls from the kitchen, dishes clattering as he’s prepping plates for the two of you. You scamper down the hall to meet him in the kitchen, a delicious aroma filling your senses when you approach the stove. He hands you one of the plates of beef and peppers stacked high on a bed of rice.

“Mmm, you even made me extra peppers!” You chirp, flashing him a cheesy smile. He grins in response and slips past you to sit on the couch.

The news channel is droning in the background during dinner, the news anchors excitedly discussing the upcoming annual Hero Gala - the glitz and glamour side of it, anyways. The Gala itself is an enormous event to celebrate Japan’s hero society and to announce the year’s hero ranking; however, everyone treats it as one extravagant event, red carpet and all.

“I’ve never been to the gala before,” you say before taking another mouthful of rice. “I never qualified to attend until this year. I’m kinda nervous to be…debuting us, if I’m being honest.”

Your agencies had caught wind of your relationship - rather, Katsuki’s assistant accidentally caught you two kissing in his office - and wanted to use you as an opportunity to introduce the “new hottest hero couple.” Agencies care about appearances and tabloid drama just as much as actual hero work. What's hotter than a top hero dating a lower - much lower - ranked hero?

The gala is in two weeks and the two of you haven't settled on what to do about it.

“Th’ agencies wanting to use us as an attention grab is fuckin’ stupid," Katsuki mumbles, brows scrunched in frustration. "Who gives a shit who we're dating? Doesn't affect my ability ta do my job."

He had a point, of course, but that didn't make you any less nervous about it. You were being pressured to have an extremely public date and let "fans" know that Dynamight was off the market. The thought of fans metaphorically bashing your head in wasn't ideal, but whatever gets "ratings," right?

"We might as well just show up in each others' costumes," you joke, rolling your eyes as the news anchor shifts topics to the latest update on another nonsense story.

"That's...not a bad idea!" He shouts, putting his plate on the coffee table and excitedly jogging down the hall to the bedroom. "Where's your backup suit?"

"In the closet, why? There's no way your muscular ass is getting in that tight suit."

"No, dumbass! C'mere!"

You place your plate next to his and get up from the couch, waltzing to the bedroom to see what he's on about. Both your hero suit and his are laying on the bed next to each other.

"What if we swapped colors?" He asked, pointing to the suit designs. "You wear mine and I wear yours. That'll give the media somethin' to yap about."

That's actually...a brilliant idea! The media would absolutely eat up the "bad boy" Dynamight strutting into the gala with his partner's color pallet, especially because your colors were pinks and purples.

You raise an eyebrow to him, smirking as you begin to imagine him in a sharp pink and purple suit. "You do look good in pink, the few times you've worn it."

Katsuki cackles and winks at you. "Course I do, I make anythin' look good."

He immediately calls his agency to request the garments - they agreed wholeheartedly and offered to fund both outfits.

───

The night of the gala has finally arrived! There are plenty of news crews from all channels present, huddled around the main red carpet entrance. The scene is bedazzled with flashing camera lights, the shutter sounds of multiple cameras capturing photos in tandem. Your complimentary custom outfits are pristine and Katsuki's hand is in yours as the limo pulls up to the gateway, giving you a soft squeeze to gather your attention.

"It'll be fine, sweets. Jus' follow my lead, 'kay?"

You nod while taking a deep breath to calm your nerves. "Thanks babe."

The limo attendant outside skips to the door, opening it for the two of you and ushering you to the entrance. You're both standing in line behind other heroes awaiting their turn to enter the building, attention already building in your direction. A few minutes go by before one of the hosts motions for the two of you to proceed to the entrance.

Your heart is racing, threatening to burst right through your ribcage as the hot spotlights are covering the two of you. Cameras are flashing rapidly, waves of unintelligible shouting invading your senses - "Dynamight! Over here, look this way!" "Just one this way, you two!" "To the left, please!"

Katsuki's jaw is tense as his eyes are roaming around to satisfy multiple camera men, the resting glare he normally sports on patrol adoring his features. Your attempting to keep a soft smile, posing and waving gently. Suddenly, you're tugged into Katsuki's side, his hand leaving yours and wrapping around your waist, pulling you into his personal space. He spins you to face him, cupping your chin and dipping you backwards as his lips grace your own, holding you in place.

The world around explodes with surprise, the peanut gallery clamoring with questions about the two of you - "Are you two an item?" "Oh! A higher ranked hero and a brand new one!" "What a scandalous amount of PDA!"

When you part, he pulls you back to his side and keeps his hand on your waist while the two of you continue into the gala together. The paparazzi outside are tailing the two of you as they're stopped at the door, shouting for answers as he flips them off over his head.

"Told ya it'd be fine. Now let's fuckin' eat and enjoy the damn night."

thanks again for the suggestion @queenpiranhadon ! ✨

#bakugo katsuki #bakugo x reader #katsuki bakugo #katsuki bakugo x reader #bakugo fluff #bakugo x y/n #bakugo x you #bakugo x fem!reader #bakugou katsuki #bakugou x reader #bakugou x y/n #my hero academia #☆.from the stars #☆.rei writes

451 notes · View notes

muchosbesitos · 5 months

Note

I need a fic about Miguel lusting after nurse fem!reader! I imagine he got hurt around her apartment and being that he is Spider-Man and she is a nurse she decides to take him into her apartment and fix him up. She is so caring and kind to he and this starts to become a thing where spider-man gets her to heal him.

So Miguel never reveals his identity to her but he’s like falling hard for her. Like thinking about her all the time (especially when he is in the shower lol). Let’s say one day he’s feeling like a little under the weather so he decides to go to where she works to get a check up and medicine (and hopefully to see her outside of his costume for once) so when he finally sees her he’s trying to charm her flirt a bit like he does when he’s behind the mask, but she is not having it. She acts cold and disinterested because one, guys flirt with nurses all the time and two, she has feelings for spider-man. Then you can do what you want with the ending but I would like if they get together in the end maybe you can squeeze some NSFW in there. Honestly this might make a pretty cute series!

little nurse

pairing: miguel o’hara x nurse fem reader

contents: mentions of blood/injuries and masturbation (m)

author’s note: decided to split this up into two parts, i hope you don’t mind :) very limited medical knowledge btw (one szn of grey’s anatomy and dr mike accounting for that 😖)

word count: 4.1K

Miguel O'Hara appeared in your life out of thin air. Literally.

You were trudging home from work around eleven at night, your scrubs smelling like disinfectant and dark circles adorning your under eyes. You'd been looking forward to taking a shower and getting as much sleep as you could before your next shift, your plans completely shifting when someone dropped in front of you. A masked man landed in front of you, clad in a Spider-Man costume. The sleep that you were longing for quickly faded away, replaced by a feeling of concern as you kneeled over to see if he had fractured his spine or his head with the fall. "How many fingers am I holding up?" You asked, holding up three as you waited for some kind of assurance that he was awake.

After receiving no response from the man, you dragged him into your apartment to work on him inside. You were grateful to whatever entity there was above that you lived in a downstairs apartment, the task of taking the man inside proving more difficult than you'd originally thought. You let out a small huff as you dragged him onto the rug in the center of your living room, shutting the door afterwards. You looked down at the man, almost tempted to take off the mask and reveal who was underneath the Spider-Man mask. After more careful consideration, you decided that it probably wasn't the best idea while he was in such a vulnerable position and grabbed your phone from your purse.

You'd gotten some old blouses that you were planning on throwing away, using them as a tourniquet around his stomach to stop the bleeding. You pressed two fingers to his neck to try to feel for a pulse, a bit slow but at a steady rhythm. After making sure his heartbeat was stable, you pressed your head down to your chest to listen for his breathing, the sound coming out ragged. "Stay with me, please," you silently whispered as your bloody fingers typed away at your phone screen, opening up the phone app. You'd finished up typing up the final one of the emergency number, a large gloved hand stopping you from answering the dispatcher on the other line.

"No, no. Please don't do that," the masked man underneath you pleaded as he slowly started to regain consciousness. You were made aware that not only would he run the risk of getting his identity exposed, but he'd also run the risk of having the nypd arrest him for the crimes he's committed as a vigilante. "Now do you understand why I can't go to the hospital?" He asked, almost like he wanted to make sure what stood at stake for him. "Okay, I'll trust you for now. But if you start bleeding out in my living room, then I'll take you to the hospital. Does that sound good?" You answered reluctantly, watching as he nodded.

You grabbed some gloves from one of your kitchen drawers, kneeling down next to him as you reached for the zipper on the back. "Do you mind if I take this off?" You asked, wanting to get his approval before you got started on anything. "Whatever you need to do to me, doc," he answered, sitting a bit up so you could reach the zipper better. You zipped down his suit, pulling it off his arms and sliding it down to his stomach. "How's your head? You hit it pretty hard when you fell," you asked him, wanting to get a better assessment of how his health was. You felt around his stomach, trying to find if there was any internal bleeding but you knew that the results would be more accurate with a CT scan.

"My head's fine, just a bit of blindness in my right eye," he deadpanned, your eyebrows practically shooting up to your hairline as you turned to look at him. "I'm joking, doc. I'm all good," he added, a small chuckle following after. "I'd smack you if your ribs weren't probably broken right now," you muttered, getting up from the floor to grab a suture kit from your bedroom. Only the sounds of his breathing could be heard as you worked on the large gashes covering most of his abdominal region, steady fingers working the needle through the thread to stop any further bleeding. You wiped away at some of the dried blood, cleaning him up to the best of your ability before pressing your hands down on his stomach to see if he had any further pain.

"I don't have any strong meds at my house, I only have Tylenol so I hope that works for you," you announced as you looked over at your medicine cabinet, surprisingly empty for the line of work that you'd chosen. "Give me the prognosis, doc. How long do I have to live?" he asked as you handed him the bottle of pills with a glass of a water. "I'm not a doctor, just a nurse. And I'd say a couple more minutes, if you're lucky. Might last longer if you don't annoy me as much," you teased him back, grabbing a couple bandages to finish up with the job. You wrapped them around the places where you placed the stitches, making him a little first aid kit just in case he'd need it. "If your stitches pop out or anything, just come back here. You know where I live."

He pulled the zipper back on, grabbing the first aid kit from you before he headed towards the door. "I'll see you next time I get hurt, little nurse," he told you, making it seem more like a promise than a goodbye. "Try not to make this a daily thing, please," you responded before he had the chance to leave, the eyes of his mask slightly raising. "I can't make any promises, lindura," he swung away after he finished speaking, sticking to the building in front of your apartment complex. You couldn't help but look out at him as he left, watching the way that he maneuvered the webs to the best of his ability despite the injuries that he'd sustained.

Miguel continued to seek you out as his nurse every time that he got hurt after that, enjoying the small banter and jokes between the two of you. Getting to be around you once more felt like the highlight of every fight that he got into, the assurance that you would be there to patch him up giving him the motivation that he needed to get up and fight crime. Despite the small jabs that you took at him, you proved to care about him time and time again with each wound that you treated. You never asked him any questions about his identity, never made him out to be anything bigger than what he had to be. Despite the fact that he wore the mask around you, he'd never felt more exposed around a human being in his life before.

Miguel found himself to be distracted by the thought of just seeing you again, constantly. He found himself wanting to get hurt just so he'd have an excuse to need your assistance, to have your soft hands running across his flesh as you stitched him up. His attention wasn't diverted only when he was dressed up as Spider-Man, the affection that he held towards you following him all the way to the lab he worked at. He'd mixed up two chemicals that he shouldn't have, causing a negative reaction in one of the rats that he was testing on and having to discard his experiment completely. "Focus, O'Hara. We're not here to pick up after your messes," his co-worker and superior, Aaron Delgato, told him during lunchtime with that same stupid smug expression he always carried on his face.

Normally, Miguel would've had something to respond back with but he couldn't find it in him to care that much at the moment. "Yeah, yeah," he ended up muttering back, pushing away his concerns as he sipped at the bitter coffee from the cafeteria. Normally the bitter taste of the coffee would've made him spit out the substance, the taste becoming slightly better when you were at the forefront of his mind. Instead of throwing it away after the first sip, he ended up taking a couple more sips before throwing it away in the sink. He spent the day at work focusing on his reports, having to stay a bit later to make up for the work that he'd messed up earlier just so he wouldn't have to deal with Aaron's condescending comments and stupid smirk as he questioned Miguel's ability to work the job he did.

He got home at around 6:30, two hours after his shift ended. The sound of door closing echoed throughout the empty halls of his home, the environment completely devoid of anything homely apart from a couple pictures and a bookshelf full of scientific journals that he'd enjoyed. He stripped away from his clothes once he got into his bedroom, wanting to remove himself from the lab as much as possible. He got into the shower before he had to head out for his vigilante duties, knowing that he knew would be too tired to do so when he got back home. The cold stream of water hit his muscles as he stood underneath, putting his forehead against the cold tiles of the wall. He felt depraved as he thought about you while he stood here, feeling himself grow more and more ashamed as he resisted the urge to wrap his hand around his cock.

Eventually, he ended up giving into his desires and wrapped his fingers tightly around his cock. He closed his eyes to help him envision a scenario with you, his mind running through with images of you underneath him. His grip on his cock tightened, wanting to replicate the feeling of what your cunt would feel like. He smeared some of the precum leaking out of his tip all around his shaft with his thumb, letting out a small hiss as he felt himself growing more aroused with every second that passed. He started off slow, wanting to prolong this orgasm as much as possible.

He pictured you starting off by sticking your tongue out for him as you sat on your knees underneath him, doe eyes looking at him expectantly as your hand wrapped around the base of his cock. Your mouth would engulf around the tip of his cock, swirling your tongue around it to capture every drop of precum that leaked out. His thumb ran around his tip to simulate every aspect of his scenario, precum sticking to his fingers as he did. He couldn't help but think about how beautiful you would look as you struggled to adjust to the feeling of his cock around your mouth, tears threatening to leak through as you fought off the urge to gag. "Oh shock, keep going," he moaned out, almost feeling like you were in the room with him.

His hand moved faster around his cock, fingers wrapped tightly around his shaft as he tried to get himself off. His eyes remained closed as the cold water ran through his body, his mind still continuing with the scenario from earlier. He felt his cock twitch in his hand, picturing how you would look with ropes of cum splattered onto your face. His release was more uneventful than he'd expected it to be, hit with the clarity of the situation immediately as the water washed the sticky substance from his hands. His forehead remained pressed against the shower wall, wanting to eliminate every negative thought that he'd been presented with. He felt perverted for taking advantage of you in this way, of taking advantage of the way that you were just so ready to help him out, but he couldn't help but feel his desire for you grow even more with every smile that you gave him.

He got out of the shower a couple minutes later, taking a few moments to reflect on what he'd done before finishing up with the rest of his shower routine. "Did you finish making the final adjustments to my suit?" He asked as his hologram assistant appeared next to him, a towel wrapped around his waist as he walked to the closet. "I did. You should find the material to be a bit more durable than the one that you previously used. Though the news reports show that it's going to be close to freezing so I would recommend for you to stay home," LYLA responded, before giving him the detailed report of what she'd done to his suit. "Crime doesn't stop just because it's a little cold. I'm sure I'll be fine," he muttered, grabbing the suit hanging up on the back of his closet.

Miguel shivered as he sat on top of a rooftop, overlooking the city as he waited for something to happen. He would have to make a mental note to add some insulation to the redesign of his suit, finding every minute outside to be excruciating. He removed the bottom part of his mask, blowing onto his bare hands as he rubbed them together. His feet swung on the edge of the building, ears perked up as he tried to listen in on conversations to discern whether anybody actually needed his help tonight. He was about to leave for the night around 30 minutes later, his plans getting stopped when he heard a lady scream across the street.

Miguel handed the purse back to the lady who was getting robbed, fighting the thugs that had tried to rob her proving to be the most exciting thing that happened all night. "Thank you Spider-Man!" The woman called out as he swung away, receiving a curt nod in response before he swung away. He ended up having to fight a couple low-grade robbers and car-jackers, nothing too big for the night. He got back home after finishing up the mundane tasks, feeling himself shivering even as he was welcomed by the warmth of the fireplace in his living room. LYLA had already started with her remarks about how he probably ended doing himself more harm than good, getting shut off two minutes into her monologue. He stripped off his clothing, sitting down on his couch with his legs spread out as he tried to warm up.

Miguel let out a groggy moan as he got up to the sound of his alarm, rubbing his hand across his temples as he laid on the couch. He could hardly get up to go to the bathroom, finding himself unable to head into work today. "I need to call in sick today," Miguel mumbled into the phone, knowing that Aaron was probably rejoicing at his weakened state. "You already messed up the experiment and now you want to take the day off? You're really slacking here, O’Hara," aaron remarked with a small 'tsk', speaking just loud enough for anyone to be able to overhear their conversation. "I don’t see why I have to explain myself to you but I'm sick. The experiment's gonna end even more messed up if I do end up showing up," Miguel answered, a small cough coming out of his end almost on cue.

After getting the reluctant approval of Aaron to stay home, miguel made his way to his bedroom and snuggled underneath his blanket. "LYLA, set up an appointment for me tomorrow at the medical center downtown please," he asked his ai assistant, his words coming out raspy and hoarse. "Why would you want me to do that? I can give you a full health assessment and recommend the right types of medicine that you need, Way better than a doctor ever could," she responded, appearing next to him with a face mask and little nurse hat on. "If I wanted you to do that, I would've asked. Just set me the appointment please," he mumbled, reaching over on his bed stand to get a tissue. LYLA was about to protest once more, but decided to go ahead and do the task when she heard Miguel coughing once more.

Miguel spent most of the day in bed, sweating underneath his tiger blanket despite the fact that he felt himself shivering. He found out the hard way that Vaporub did not in fact cure every one of his aches, though his nose wasn't too stuffed up after using it. He got up around 6 pm when he felt his stomach grumble, walking over to the kitchen to make himself something to eat. He turned on the afternoon news, wanting to make sure there wasn't anything too bad threatening the city. He saw that there had been a couple reports of robberies around the city, leaving it up to the police since he wasn't sure how useful he would be with his nose running every minute. He turned off the tv and poured the chicken soup that had been brewing on the oven into plate, sitting down at the dinner table to have something to eat. All he could do for now was simply wait for what the doctor would prescribe him, a part of him hoping that he would be able to see you.

"Miguel O'Hara?" You called out, looking around the sickly people in the waiting room before a tall man stood up. "That's me," he responded, his sinuses clearly stuffed up as he spoke. You led him back into the rooms, walking to the treatment rooms as you looked through the clipboard. "It's been a while since you've been here so i'm gonna go ahead and update your medical file," you informed him, looking back at him as he nodded. You led him to a wall with a measure taped on it, grabbing a pen from one of the pockets of your scrubs. You were about to take his height, noticing that his figure loomed over the measure. Your eyes widened slightly, your mind rubbing through what you could possibly do.

You grabbed an extra measure from a drawer, grabbing a chair nearby before getting up on it to tape it up on the wall. "You could've asked me to do that, y'know? I wouldn't have minded doing a favor for such a pretty nurse," he mused as he looked up at you, his lips immediately pursing together at the dirty look that you shot him. You got off from the chair, looking up at the two measures taped together before counting the extra inches. "Alright, 6'9," you muttered to yourself, writing it down on the clipboard before motioning for him to step on the electronic scale next to the side. You took his weight after the machine stopped counting, writing down the results before leading him to his assigned treatment room.

You washed your hands at the sink, putting on a bit of hand sanitizer before putting on a pair of gloves. "What seems to be the problem?" You asked, wanting to get a synopsis of what he thought was wrong before you made any guesses. "The problem is that you haven't accepted a dinner invitation with me. I'm sure my cold would heal a lot faster if you did, just saying. Trust me, I'm also a doctor," he mused, relishing as you resisted the urge to roll your eyes. While you'd had your fair share of patients flirt with you, having to deal with their advances tested your patience bit by bit. The man in front of you wasn't exactly unattractive, but he didn't make you feel the same excitement that you felt every time that you saw Spider-Man. You folded your arms and looked at him, staying silent until he decided to divulge what had been bothering him.

"My nose's stuffed up, my chest feels like it's full of phloem, and I can't stop coughing up a lung," he responded, allowing you to get a glimpse of what was really bothering him. "It sounds like you just have a cold but I'll get your blood work done just to make sure that I get an accurate result," you told him, grabbing a small needle to prick him. Before he got the chance to tell you that the blood work wouldn't reveal much, you'd already collected the blood in a small tube. "The doctor will be right with you, Mr. O’Hara," he'd heard you say before the door closed, leaving him alone with the knowledge that you didn't feel the same way about him while he was unmasked.

The doctor came in and did what they were supposed to, taking his heartbeat and his temperature. "It seems like you just have a cold, Mr. O’Hara. Take some time to rest at home and don't overexert your body," the doctor had warned him, handing him a small paper with a prescription for what seemed to be cough syrup on it. He took the paper from the doctor, looking over at you with a small smile as you stepped into the room. The doctor handed the chart over to you, giving you a shortened explanation of what the diagnosis had been. You read over his chart, reaffirming what the doctor had already said before you dismissed him.

"I forgot to mention, your blood test came back inconclusive. I'm sure it was just the machine since it said it couldn't really identify you as fully human," you told him before he had the chance to leave, his figure looming over yours as he waited for you to finish speaking. "I hope you get your machine fixed soon. I'm sorry if i did something to damage it. By the way, are you certain that you don't want to say yes to that dinner I mentioned earlier?" He insisted with his previous offer, his hand lingering on the doorknob as he waited for your response. "I'm sure, thank you for the very kind offer," you reaffirmed, stepping out of the room once he'd walked out.

You headed to the back to talk with your friends, seeing Miguel at the hospital's pharmacy to get the cough syrup prescription filled. "I heard you rejected your patient's advances when he asked you out to dinner. This one's pretty cute and rich, so what happened?" Nurse Maya asked you, pretending to sift through some files just in case a doctor passed by. "Girl, you know she's obsessed over that Spider-Man guy. How's it been going treating him for free, anyways?" Your other friend, Nurse Valeria asked, looking up from her computer just to take note of your expression. You hated how easy the news travelled in the hospital, avoiding Miguel’s gaze as you turned to look at your two friends.

"It's been going decent, thank you. And there's nothing new to tell, Spider-Man hasn't been showing up to my house lately. I kinda have missing being his little nurse," you responded, watching as they both rolled your eyes. "Of course you had to go and fall in love with the masked psycho," Maya muttered before the three of you talked about something else. You couldn't help but laugh as Maya went through her recent dating dilemma, blissfully unaware to the fact that someone had been listening to your conversation while they were waiting for their prescription to be filled.

Miguel couldn't help the small smile that crossed his lips as he heard you speak about Spider-Man in the way that you did, speaking about his alter ego like a high school girl with a crush. "Mr. O'Hara?" The pharmacist behind the counter called out for what seemed to be the hundredth time, finally diverging his attention long enough from you to be able to do their job properly. "Thank you," Miguel mumbled awkwardly, the smile on his face quickly fading away as he paid for the cough syrup. He took a small spoonful of it in his car while he waited for the blue light to turn off, silently hoping that it would work and he could get back to fighting crime once more.

Though he felt a little discouraged at the way you'd shut him off with every flirting attempt that he made, he knew that at some level you had to feel some kind of attraction for him. His mind began coursing with different ideas of how to approach this situation, almost jealous of the way that you viewed his alternate ego. He started to wonder what it would be like if he was able to flirt with you the same way that he was able to as Spider-Man, what it would be like to have that confidence without the use of the mask. The way you spoke about him was almost endearing, the way that you described what it felt like to have Spider-Man come for your services and the way that you felt while you stitched him up. All that he knew is that he needed to come up with a solution about how to approach this crush for you and fast.

1K notes · View notes

silkjade · 7 months

Text

& IF WE’RE ALL DRESSED UP, THEY MIGHT AS WELL BE LOOKING AT US

featuring— neuvillette x reader ⤀ warnings: implied fem!reader, nothing specific + no pronouns mentioned ⤀ summary: making your debut as a couple at the hallow's eve ball a/n: wrote this last minute but i'm in one of the latest timezones, so happy halloween ! (written before 4.2 aq)

"furina might be upset if we steal her spotlight tonight," you mutter, fingers nervously straightening the cravat resting at neuvillette's neck for the nth time tonight.

"let her be upset then. it’s not a storm i haven’t weathered before," he replies, wrapping his hands around yours before lowering them back down to your sides. he's sure you've fixed his cravat to be more than perfect already.

"yes, but garnering our archon's contempt isn't exactly something off my bucket list..."

a low hum ripples in his throat as he tilts is head in earnest trepidation. "are you having second thoughts?"

you shake your head—absolutely not. a secret relationship is no easy feat, much less one with someone as high profile as neuvillette, who in spite of his distaste for lingering within the public eye, is still often thrust into the spotlight by those hoping for a glimpse into the chief justice’s private life.

"just a little nervous I guess," you breathe.

to reveal the nature of your relationship, is a decision you've made as a united front. the gossip columns of the steambird already run rampant with thinly veiled monikers, and there's not much either of you can do when an 'honorable monsieur n' is once again spotted with a 'mystery someone'.

it'd open the floodgates to an onslaught of curiosities, but neuvillette would have the city be his witness, for though he still has much to learn about the ins and outs of human nature, he knows for a fact that his entire heart is yours. so whilst no authority in this land can truly stop the peoples' whispers, if fontaine wishes to talk, they can do so on your terms, without the threat scandal.

before the two of you, stands a pair of large double doors; the only thing between you and focalor's hallows eve ball, the only shelter from the costumed elite of fontainian society who's predatory eyes would land on you the second you step past the threshold.

to your left, neuvillette stands with an arm behind his back, a perfect gentleman costumed in the finest fabrics, the gold metal details glinting under the chandelier's light. with a deep breath, you straighten as you exhale, carrying the weight of your own matching costume with a dignity befitting of the iudex's lover.

coppelia and coppelius, two individual entities, who when together, waltzes amidst a flurry of ice and wind, persevering through any storm. gingerly, you take his outstretched hand, nodding as the doors creak open.

a/n2: tbh i only wrote this cus i thought coppelia & coppelius would be a super cool couples costume HAHA anways thanks for reading, and as always, reblogs + feedback are super appreciated ^^

#— 𝓼𝓲𝓰𝓷𝓮𝓭 𝓙. ༯ #neuvillette x reader #neuvillette fluff #neuvillette x reader fluff #genshin x reader #genshin impact x reader #genshin fluff #genshin impact x you #neuvillette x you #genshin impact drabbles #genshin imagines #genshin impact scenarios #genshin fanfic #genshin impact

876 notes · View notes

cryptidghostgirl · 3 months

Text

Unexpected (Vox x Fox Demon!Reader)

Pairing: Vox x Reader

Description: Vox tries to make a deal with Y/n.

Warnings: Valentino is his own warning. Um, slightly explicit near the beginning? Nothing too bad. Cigarettes.

Word Count: 2,928

Master Lists:

Master Lists

Hazbin Hotel Master List

Click here and leave a comment if you want to be added to any taglists or send me an ask about it.

A/N Considering the returns on my most recent poll, I figured I should get this slightly steamy little idea I've had for a while out there in the world.

Vox had never been one to make deals with lesser demons, to take their souls. No, that was Valentino's thing. Vox didn't need to own a soul to get a demon to do what he wanted for one, and for another, Vox didn't particularly like people. He preferred to work alone, to be alone. Life was much more productive that way.

The other Vees were different. Vox allowed them in his life because they were useful, they solidified and expanded his power. Anyone else was just a waste of time and space.

Speaking of the other Vees, Vox right now was on his way to visit Valentino. At Velvette's request, he was aiming to talk to the man about whatever scene he'd instigated at a club the night before. It just happened to be his luck because of course it was his fucking luck that the only spare moment he had to deal with the situation was when Val was filming.

Vox burst through the studio doors, making a beeline for Valentino who sat in a director's chair before the set. He was well practiced at approaching his business partner while the man was working and averted his eyes, trying his best to keep focus on the task at hand.

"Val." he hummed in irritation as he came to a stop beside the moth demon's chair, "What did you do last night?"

Valentino blew out a puff of pink smoke, fixing his eyes on Vox.

"Whatever do you mean?"

The feigned innocence coming from this man was laughable. Vox rolled his eyes. He opened his mouth to speak, to reveal what Velvette had told him. By chance, just at that moment, he happened to look away.

It wasn't on purpose. There had been a sound from the set that had involuntarily grabbed Vox's attention. His eyes widened, his screen glitching with fury as he turned back to Valentino.

"What the fuck is that?" he asked pointing to the set.

There, in the middle of the bed was a demon. That was far from unusual, as was the demon's half dressed state. What was unusual was the fact that the demon had been dressed up to look exactly like Vox himself. Well, not exactly. The actor had a box over his head with a fake screen on the front. A cheap costume but one that was most certainly supposed to be him.

There was another demon beneath him, a short thing with with wide eyes and the large ears of a fennec fox. It was then that the sound that caught his attention registered with Vox. Trapped under the other actor's arms, his lips to her neck, she had moaned his name.

"Hmm?"

Val lazily threw his gaze to the stage before smiling.

"Just my newest project. Don't you worry."

"Val, I am definitely worried. I want you to cancel this, right now."

"Oh comon Voxy!" Valentino pleaded, "Think of all the money it would bring in! Half of Hell wants to get dicked down by you for Christ's sake."

Vox folded his arms over his chest, actively not looking at the pair who were still on stage. They had not stopped what they were doing for the sake of the overlord's conversation and Vox was so high strung that he nearly flinched at the sound of fabric tearing.

"Val."

His voice came out deep and mangled, as if his speakers were turned up way too loud. Vox's eye twitched slightly in irritation, his hands clenched into fists. Valentino just watched him for a moment before sighing. Waving his hand, he turned to the stage.

"That's a wrap everyone!" he called and Vox turned to watch at the whole crew of demons, including the pair of actors, turned to their boss, "We're trashing this script."

If anyone had complaints, they dared not voice them before the two overlords. Slowly, the crew began to pack up.

"Thank you." Vox reluctantly said to Val.

His eyes were fixed on the two actors, something that did not escape Valentino's notice as he waved the words of thanks off.

"You owe me one."

"Whatever."

The man had pulled himself from the bed by now and discarded the false head he'd been wearing. With a kindly smile, he held a hand out to the girl he'd been on top of just moments before. She sat up, leaning back on her arms. Vox watched her lips move and though he couldn't hear what she said over the clamor, he assumed it must've been a joke as the other demon laughed.

Gently, and with much more grace than Vox could have thought she was capable of, she took the demons hand and brought herself off the bed. Vox's breath caught in his throat because of course, of fucking course, Valentino had decided to dress her like that.

If Val was good at anything, it was guessing someone's kinks just by looking at them. A party trick but in practice, very useful for his line of work. The demon was dressed in blue and red lingerie, running like twisting wires over her limbs, pressing gently into her skin in just the right way. The remnants of a black dress, the source of the earlier sound of torn fabric no doubt, lay in the imprint of her body on the bed. Vox didn't care if it was predictable, she looked fucking hot.

With that specific breed of confidence that seems only to belong to pornstars, the pair began heading toward the door. Muffled, as if through water, Vox heard Valentino ask him something.

"Yeah." Vox absently replied, tearing his eyes away from the pair and meeting Valentino's gaze.

Val smirked up at him knowingly.

"You alright there Voxy?" he hummed, "Fox got your tongue?"

"I am not going to deign that with a response. If you ever pull shit like this agai-"

"Yeah yeah. Doll!"

Vox followed Val's shifted line of sight to see that the girl had stopped by the door which was being held open for her by her scene partner. She turned to face Val, suddenly taking on a much more demure demeanor than she had previously displayed. Hands clasped before her, she met her boss's eyes across the expanse of the room.

"Yes?" she called, her voice like music.

"Val." he warned under his breath for what felt like the umpteenth time.

Valentino, of course, ignored him, seeking his own entertainment and profit above all else.

"Come here for a second, would you?"

She nodded, saying something to the demon behind her over her shoulder. With a shrug, he left the room, letting the door fall shut behind him. Stepping carefully between the frantic workers, the girl made her way across the room to Vox and Val. She stopped before Val's chair, looking up at him through her lashes.

"What did you want to see me for, sir."

Her words were careful, perfectly annunciated.

"Back here in ten. You've got another job."

"Yes, Valentino." she replied, bowing her head just the slightest bit towards the man.

Val's wicked grin widened.

"Wear the white."

"Yes, Valentino."

It was like those were the only two words she knew. She treated the horrific man before her with the utmost respect, never once taking her eyes off of him.

"You may go."

Val waved her off with a lazy flick of his hand.

"Thank you, sir."

Another slight bow and the girl turned, her hair splaying out slightly at the ends from her sudden movement. As she made for the door once again, she shot a momentary glance at Vox. It was as if the world had stopped turning the second their eyes met. It felt like an eternity of him losing himself in their sticky softness. Then, she was gone.

Vox didn't understand what was happening. Sure, he had found people attractive before. He'd engaged in hookups, wasted time on the occasional relationship but nothing -- nothing -- had ever been like this. Every time he shut his eyes, there she was. Every spare second, his mind drifted to her. He found himself staring off into space, the image of that wry smile she had shot her costar as he had helped her off the bed burned into his memory.

The worst part was she was one of Val's girls and Val's girls were always trouble. The look they had shared, the scene she had been in, the way his name had sounded spilling from her soft lips, Vox knew it meant nothing to her. She had probably already forgotten it by now. The worst part was, it wasn't nothing to him. His muscles tensed at just the thought of the sound, at the idea of him being the one to actually make her beg for him rather than some cheap excuse for a facsimile. The worst part was, he didn't even know her name. In Val's gaze, she was just another body to profit off of. She was a doll, unworthy of any other title. The idea of someone seeing her so cheaply made him glitch because god, he had only met her once, but she was so much more than a toy. Vox was sure of it.

Wrapped in fantasy, he crafted an image of the girl. Vox imagined her patterns of being, what she must be like as a person -- so obedient but with that dry sense of humor he had attributed to her with no evidence save that she'd managed to make one person laugh in front of him one time. Vox never expected to see her again. He thought that the demon would be forever relegated to his dreams, to the recesses of his mind. He thought she'd be dead in a week, with Val's track record.

Vox pulled himself from his desk chair with a sigh. Three hours had passed and he just couldn't bring himself to be productive. She was a menace, a true vixen with those fox ears and tail to match. He would curse her very name for what she was doing to him if he knew what it was.

"Some fresh air. That's all I need." he said to the emptiness of his office, "Yeah."

The back doors of the Vee's building were seldom used, even by the people who worked there. Half the paparazzi didn't even know that they existed and so, he planned his escape. Of course it had to be his luck because it was always his goddamn luck these days wasn't it that the second he opened the door, it was to the smell of cigarette smoke and the image of a demon leaning against the building's brick exterior.

Vox let the door fall shut behind him with a heavy bang. The demon shot him a glance out of the corner of her eye, taking a long drag of her cigarette.

"Escaping?" she asked.

He hadn't wanted anyone to see him. More importantly, he hand't wanted to see anyone, let alone talk to him. Vox sighed, adjusting his sleeves as he turned to face the demon fully.

She looked up at him, squinting slightly against the sun. Vox's heart stuttered in his chest. She looked... different and it wasn't just because she was fully dressed this time. There was no doubt about it however, this was the demon from the studio just a few weeks before.

None of the playful joy or diligent respect from their last encounter remained in her features, she just looked tired. Black jeans and a leather jacket, hair pulled up and away from her face, not a speck of makeup to be seen besides the smudged remnants of mascara beneath her eyes.

"You... you're that... you're one of Val's..."

"Victims?" she chuckled ruefully, "Yeah. I am."

"You're the one from..."

"Last week? Yep. Sorry about that, by the way. If it's any consolation, it was uncomfortable for us too."

Vox was speechless, stunned, utterly taken aback and completely blindsided. The exact thing he was trying to escape, standing before him and utterly contrary to his every previously conjured image.

"Want a smoke?"

"Uh, no thanks. Don't smoke."

The girl shrugged.

"Mind if I do."

"No."

She took another long drag, watching the smoke she blew out as it hung blue in the air. She shot him a sidelong glance.

"You just gonna stand there?"

"You ask a lot of questions."

She laughed. Vox wasn't expecting her to do that.

"S'pose I do."

The idea of a walk had long left Vox's mind. He leaned against the wall across from her in the cramped ally, watching as she anxiously checked the time.

"Goddamn."

She lowered her arm, shaking the sleeve of her jacket back over the watch and looking wistfully out towards the exit of the ally.

"Val?"

"Val."

"You seem... you're different than I expected you to be."

"Thats your fault for having expectations."

She smiled at him like a shark watching prey and he nodded his head to the side in mild agreement.

"What's your name?"

Her smile fell, eyes widening slightly. One of her ears twitched and Vox could hear the sound of her tail shifting against the wall. The world felt so far away. Right now, there was nothing else in existence except for himself, the ally, and the fox before him.

"Vix..." she bowed theatrically after a moment, "is my porn name."

Her eyes shot up to his as she finished her phrase, the same confident and, he now realized, performative smile curling the edges of her lips.

"But my parents called me Y/n."

The demon straightened herself up, holding a hand out to Vox. He regarded it carefully for a moment before placing his hand in hers.

"Vox."

"I know."

Y/n took a final drag from her cigarette, stamping the butt out on the ground beneath the heavy heel of her boot.

"Well," she sighed with one last look to the shock of sky they could see between the buildings, "I best be going. Nice meeting you."

"Wait!"

Vox hadn't meant to say it, nor had he meant to frantically latch onto her arm. Y/n flinched slightly under the contact, stilling before the door and turning back to him, her brow furrowed.

"Why do you..." he cleared his throat, his cheeks flushing slightly pink, "How'd you end up... working... here."

Y/n laughed again. She had to admit, his flustered state was rather endearing, not at all what she had expected from one of the most feared overlords in all of Hell.

"For Val?" she asked and he nodded in response, "Same as every other wayward soul. He offered me something I couldn't refuse, and I was too naive to understand the price."

It took Vox a moment for her words to register with him, for her cryptic language to translate in his mind.

"He owns your soul?"

Y/n nodded once, all traces of amusement having fallen from her face.

"For what."

"Fame! Money! Riches!" she sarcastically called out with wild swings of her arms.

She stilled in her movements, a wry smile flashing across her face as she met his eyes again, her arms falling to her sides.

"Really?"

"Nah, I'm not that classy. I needed protection."

"From what?"

"Anything. I was new and I was afraid."

"And now you're trapped."

"Now I am trapped." Y/n concurred solemnly, "And I have to go."

"Do you want to go?"

Y/n thought for a moment before shaking her head.

"You're not what I expected you to be."

"Thanks?" Vox questioned after a moment, "I am not sure if you meant that as a compliment."

"Yeah."

It was a noncommittal answer and one that sent sparks of anxiety like shards of broken glass through him.

"I meant more so do you want to go to Val."

"Do I want to go get fucked by twenty guys or whatever he's gonna have me do? Of course fucking not. I don't really have a say in the matter so its not really important what I want."

"Of course it's important what you want."

Vox's mouth was moving a hundred times faster than his head. He couldn't seem to make it stop. Y/n's eyes went wide, she shook her head slightly as if ridding it of a thought.

"Maybe in another afterlife." she joked.

"What if... what if I could... fix this for you."

A pause, tense and full of longing. An intake of breath.

"What do you mean?"

"If you make a contract with another demon, Val's would be void."

"Another demon like you."

"Yes."

"I..."

She trailed off, looking up at him with wide eyes. Her tail wagged once happily behind her before all traces of hope were swallowed once again by the utter desolation.

"I dug my grave, Vox."

"But you don't have to lie in it."

He was practically begging her, his hand on her arm again. He couldn't recall when he had placed it there after her wild movements earlier in detailing her deal had thrown it from her. She looked down, examining the place where flesh made contact with leather. Y/n's eyes met his again, she shook him off.

"One deal is bad enough. Trading chains for chains doesn't change anything."

"But it could."

"Look, Vox. I have to go."

Y/n turned her back on him and opened the door. She hesitated for a moment, leaning on it's edge.

"It was nice to meet you."

Vox watched as she disappeared, the door slamming behind her.

----

A/N It doesn't matter if you guys want a part two or not because there will be one.

408 notes · View notes

kentosblkgf · 10 months

Text

Ghostface! Miguel O’Hara

Cw: size kink, mask kink, masked sex, spit, reader doesn’t know it’s Miguel …picture taking?? and choking. One sentence in Spanish. You can obviously tell I got lazy I just wanted to post something really quick <333

You had decided to have a small get together at your house. Inviting a few known friends, ofc they invited more but you had told them to come masked. It was like a little mystery, you loved mysteries. You had already known who Peter was because of his loud rambling.

He was dressed as Leatherface. A bad one at that, he looked nothing like Leatherface, he was literally wearing the green trench jacket that he wears everywhere. It was horrible.

Everyone had revealed themselves. All except the Ghostface.

His build was strong, tough even. Looked like he was made out of solid iron. The way he stood had you hypnotized. His arms crossed against his protruding chest, head tilting to the side under his mask.

He was just too good to look at. His arms were just bulging with veins. It almost made you fantasize about them having you in a head lock.

You still didn’t know who it was, but jesus fucking Christ were they strong. The way he had his fist balled into your hair and both of his knees touching the wooden floor on each side of you almost made you die.

He was manhandling you so good. The way he fucked into you made you see stars, you were in such a heavy daze. you didn’t even see the flash of the picture he took.

His cock was so thick, your walls struggled to take him with each thrust. It was crazy how one could have so much power behind them. He was enjoying this all too well. Tightening his fist in your hair, pulling your head back and using his other hand to pull the bottom part of his mask up. Just enough for you to see his puckered lips. Your mouth opened like the greedy slut you were.

He spit into your mouth, it sounded so dirty. So, vile. He’s fucking you so so so good, covering up your moans with his huge hands.

The groans he’s letting out sound heavenly, his deep grunts making shivers go down your spine. You try to get him to sit up a little to lessen the pressure of his thrust he is just not letting up.

It feels too good for him to stop. He isn’t focused on your pleasure anymore, it’s all about him. The sound of his hips connecting with yours covered in your slickness is deafening, if anyone had walked by they would most definitely hear and know what was going on.

“Fuck.” It was small very faint, you wouldn’t even have been able to tell it was him if you weren’t the one getting their brains fucked out.

You heard it as clear as day, yet you still didn’t know who it was that was fucking you so good.

His hand started gripping your hair harder before moving it down to your throat squeezing it softly. You feel a slight tug on your costume, He’s ripping the top part open and gripping a hand full of your tits.

You felt disgusted as he laughed when drool started running down the side of your mouth.

“Please please please.”

You didn’t even know what you were begging for anymore. He starts to slow down his thrusts and grips your side before flipping you over onto your back.

You could see his build so much better. His neck dripping with sweat.

His whole hand covered you face as he pushed you more into the floor, making your head turn to the side. Your face smushed into the floorboards.

Everything was feeling so good. Pink lips peaking from under his mask.

“No.” Just a small grunt

You wanted to see his face so bad. It was painful not really. You were squirming under his weight, his heavy large palms practically suffocating you.

“F-fuck, hold on just g-give me-.”

You could barely breathe, barely even speak because of the way he was practically pounding you into the wooded floor. His thrusts so heavy and full of vigor.

Tears forming at your eyes, you can feel yourself about to cum you just need.. you just need

“P-please slow,”

Your words are so slurred it sounds like you’re drunk. He’s not even letting up, not a bit. He’s too heavy, you’re gonna make a mess it’s not like you didn’t try to warn him. You begged him to slow down.

White noise is all you hear as he hits just the right spot

“Wait wait wait, p-please.”

Your hands bunching up next to your head, having nothing to grip onto for support. You can hear your mess splashing onto the wooden floor.

“So fuckin messy.”

He’s chuckling? He’s.. laughing.

Your pussy couldn’t even push him out with the force of your orgasm. He’s just too heavy and thick inside of you.

He’s heavy breathing in your ear, grunting and groan as he plows into you like he owns you. At this point he does. Fucking you like he’s possessed by something.

His thrusts become more sloppy as you can tell that he is nearing his end, he thighs smacking against the back of yours. His hips are stuttering debating if he wants to cum on you, or in you. He of course chooses the latter pushing so deep into you, you can feel and hear cogs falling out of your head and onto the floor.

He’s so deep, his thighs tensing as he releases inside of you.

Your cunt is just so warm why would he want to leave it? Well of course to see what he’s left behind. He slowly pulls out and the pearly beads of cum quickly follow, he’s using his thumb to spread you open as he watches your pussy clench around nothing.

“Absolutamente hermosa, nena.” (Absolutely beautiful, baby)

The voice. The slightest accent that you couldn’t hear before.

He pulls you so you’re face upwards and uses your hand to put you into a sitting position.

Just as you start to blink away the fucking he gave you. He’s pulling his mask off with a grin.

Miguel, your best friend.

#miguel x y/n #miguel x black reader #miguel o’hara x black reader #miguel o'hara smut #miguel spiderverse #miguel o'hara #miguel x fem!reader #miguel o’hara #miguel o’hara x fem!reader #miguel smut

1K notes · View notes