#and i thought ‘what if she laughs like that around people she likes’
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The Bed Issue - Wanda Maximoff Oneshots
Summary: Another retake of Wandavision, this time, the scene with the two single beds.
Warnings: (+18) pure smut, enchanted strap, fingering, creampie, wanda is in charge but r tops, dirty talking, some typical Westview angst (brief reality alteration) but purely sinful | Words: 3.284k
A/N-> At this point, I feel I should start a new collection with all the scenes I rewrote. I miss writing series people, where are my ideas. Also, sorry if there are too many spelling errors, I wrote this on my phone (it's hard to be poor and busy). But good reading!
General Masterlist | AO3
-&-
The sign of two single beds in the room made you giggle right away.
Wanda, who walked in first, looked back at you with curiosity. Her gaze scanned your face as she asked: “What's funny, darling?”
Your eyes found her and a deep sigh escaped your lips, the ghost of that giggle still present in your expression.
“The beds, Wanda.” You replied quickly, almost offended she couldn't see the absurdity of that. Maybe she was playing innocent. Or at least, that's what her confused gaze looked like. Another sign escaped you. “Why would a married couple sleep on different beds, side by side?”
“Well, I…” but she cut herself mid-sentence, her gaze shifted as if she realized that really didn't make any sense. “I guess you're right.”
The bed moved as quickly as her fingers - the wood jumping to the side to connect and transform into one bed. You smile, moving forward to kiss your wife's cheek.
“Lovely tricks as always, darling.” You praise, catching the soft color rising up her skin before you step to the bathroom. But you comment again, giggling: “How odd that was, two beds.”
Distracted by your own joke, you didn't catch Wanda's shoulder tension. And she could only force a smile, giving a quick gaze at your figure brushing your teeth while mentality praying that for the sake of her poor heart, you wouldn't notice any other weirdness tonight.
-&-
A stupid tree.
A stupid tree branch against the window and things got out of hand completely. At least this time, in a good sense of things.
That is because Wanda found herself pressed into the bed, giggling at our bold hands under her clothes.
She remembers this teasing all too well. Beyond the sexual tension, and the teenage hormones, there was intimacy. You could always make her laugh, no matter the situation. Often, you would do that in inappropriate ones that's for sure. Just for the satisfaction of making her blush deeply when apologizing to whoever was around to testify you making a mess out of her. And then when in a situation like tonight, where it was too hard to breathe and too warm for a coherent thought - teasing fingers where she had tickles was the perfect way to ease her anxiety. To anchor her back and remember it's just you. Her best friend. Warming your way around her skin.
But things were a little - a lot - different in Westview. Neither of you knows why or how, or better saying, Wanda knew to a different extent than you.
When she brought the covers up your bodies, taking the lead for the night and expecting to meet your eagerness to kiss her again, she was met with more giggles.
She stared down at your shiny eyes, leaning into the hand you brought to her cheek.
“It's too warm here.” You let her know softy, and yes, Wanda was quite aware. Kissing you was more than enough to heat her entirely, but doing this under the covers was a challenge. She could feel the sweat starting to drip. She was ready to say she didn't mind, maybe even kiss you to change the subject when you added: “Why would you cover us anyway, darling? There's no one watching.”
It was meant to be a joke, obviously. You don't know. You couldn't know. And your eyes were innocent and your smile was sincere and Wanda hesitated.
Your hand remains on her cheek, the caress never stopping.
“Did I say something wrong? Where did you go just now?”
She went outside. Outside the hex, all the way to monitors transmitting her sitcom of a fake life. But not really. Because she didn't consciously know about any of this. Yet, some part of her mind did know, and all the TVs that once exhibited her little show, now hold a Stand By sign.
Wanda was the one who threw the covers aside. The fresh air was well welcome but you're now distracted with the gorgeous woman moving to straddle your hips.
“You're right, there's no one watching.” She says with the same urgency she burst open your pajama shirt. You don't understand the rush, but she looks too pretty for you to disagree. And Wanda purrs at the sight of your naked skin, biting her lips like a naughty child. “I missed you.”
You chuckle breathlessly, some confusion in your eyes. “I was with you all day.”
She shook her head, deciding now to control her tongue. If she doesn't want you questioning, she needs to stop saying things like this. So she forces a smile, shifting against your hips in a way that makes your breath catch in your throat. “I always miss my wife, I mean. Whenever she's not touching me.”
Even though you offer her a grin, there's a blush in your cheeks that goes down your chest and Wanda suddenly doesn't feel like talking anymore.
A feeling you two seem to share as you bring a hand to her face only to pull her down at you again. It's a heated kiss. With tongue and breathy whispers that turn her into needy sounds.
Even without the covers, it's soon too hot to keep clothes on.
You're the one who takes her nightgown off. Pulling down as your tongues dance together, until the item no longer hides the tits you started to play it.
Wanda's eyes are tightly closed as your mouth sucks her nipple. Your hand plays with the other while she struggles to breathe.
Her top needs to go, but so does all the other clothing. The nightgown barely reached the floor and you're already pulling at her soaked panties, eager to feel her inside.
“Need this off you now, witchy.” The nickname makes her gasp. You haven't used it until now and it has been way too long since she heard. Since you-
No. No thinking about this, not now.
She forces herself back to the present, an easy task when she feels every inch of her skin burning with your touch. She needs to move away to take the item off but your hands hold her tight by the waist at the mere attempt of breaking apart.
She giggles breathlessly, aware of the new wave of wetness that dripped down with the feeling of your strong hands manhandling her back at her position, keeping her restless hips still. “But you said you wanted it off.” She tries to ration, receiving only a growl in return. The next second, when your hands shift, the item is torn off her without ceremony.
“Hey! It was my favorite.” She pouts in protest but you merely give her a husky chuckle.
“I'm sure you can fix it.” Comes as a teasing answer that Wanda couldn't contradict even if she wanted to - all previous thoughts are gone when your fingers reach her front and penetrate between her warm folds without a warning. You groan at the delirious feeling of her pussy against your fingertips while Wanda whimpers at the ceiling, trying to get used to the sudden invasion.
“Fuck, you're so tight.” Your remark with a sultry voice against her ear. Wanda's arm circles your shoulder for some support while she feels the stretch of your fingers inside her. It's been a while since last time but dear God how she missed this. Her hips move on instinct and you have to chuckle at her impatience with herself. Your free hand moves to her lower back, caressing her skin while your fingers start to press your way inside her.
“Easy darling, I got you.” You guide, too deeply for her to give you any replies other than pleas and whimpers. The position might not be the most comfortable for you but it's amazing to her. Wanda can grind down and ride your fingers as she pleases and you can feel how close she's coming to her climax so you don't dare to stop. Your thumb moves to her clit, circling the nerve and she nearly loses it. The bedroom lights start to flash with the build of this orgasm and you stare at her in amazement only to be rewarded with her gorgeous flushed face while she grinds into your hand in nearly despair.
“Fuck you're so beautiful.” You gasp, increasing the speed. The depth. Wanda breaks in a sob, her back arching. The first one is a charm. Your name is being screamed at the ceiling while you feel her wetness dripping down your hand. Unfortunately - or fortunately - it only makes you crave her more. She's still recovering from the intensity of this climax, all sweaty and flushed when you shift your hand. You're still inside her tight walls and your fingers start to pick up a pace again. She squeaks at the overstimulation, but her protest dies in your tongue sucking hers when you kiss her again.
Wanda's almost too distracted by the filthy of this kiss to notice how quickly her second climax is building - almost. There's a bite against your bottom lip that makes you groan when she breaks the kiss, unable to keep it up. Her hands grab at you for some grounding when she feels how close she is to come, stronger than the last time. You feel her nails piercing your skin when her orgasm washes over her and it's your time to moan at her ear.
Her body goes limp for a moment after this. It was two intense orgasms in a row after all. She just needs to take a breath.
You move your fingers out, sucking them clean and murmuring satisfied at her taste while Wanda struggles to recognize her surroundings.
When you can hold her with both hands again, you nuzzle at her cheek.
“Enjoying yourself, witchy?” You dare to tease her when she can feel how she's still leaking in your lap. Honestly, the nerve. Wanda let out a deep breath, pushing her momentarily tiredness away.
There's an easy smile on her lips when she finds your eyes again. “I am but I've been so selfish.” She starts with a particular accentuation of her ascent that she knows you drive you insane. She also watches as your breath catches and your eyes drift to her lips, mesmerized by every word. “You must be needing me as well.”
But you tense at her nails screeching your belly, a worried frown coming at your expression.
“Wanda… my powers.” The fear in your eyes is like a cold buck of water. Oh, yes, she forgot.
For the whole day, she forgot you had no idea of the life you two shared. Nothing outside Westview and this lovely fantasy. None of the creative ways you two once used to bypass the super strength issue. Your fear and hesitation at hurting her made perfect sense but the fact that she was the only one who could remember the whole history you two shared was still painful. Her expression probably gave her away and confused you even more. “I promise you this is more than enough for me. Bringing you pleasure is enough.” You add gently, but Wanda shakes her head, leaning in to kiss you. She leaves you breathlessly before breaking apart, taking some pride in the way you're blushing.
“Don't be silly, darling, there's plenty of things for us to do together. To please one another.” You gulp at her words and tone of voice, eyes following all of her movements. From the shift of her hips to the teasing of her fingers on the way down your pants. “I wanna try something I think you'll love it. Do you trust me?”
You nod immediately, watching as Wanda's fingers play with the hem of your pants. She giggles naughty at your anticipation and brings one finger up to your chin, to make you look at her eyes again.
“Can you use your words?”
“Y-yeah.” You swallow, trying to win some composure back. It's not easy when Wanda Maximoff is naked and sitting on your tight. But you smile anyway. “Of course I trust you, witchy.”
She smiles at you, her eyes flashing a glimmer of naughtiness that makes your heart leap. You can't worry too much about that anyway - Wanda leans in to kiss you again. And it's the dirtiest one of the night. She takes the lead, pulling back now and then just to tease your tongue with the tip of hers, reveling at the way you pant and struggle to keep your hips still.
But suddenly, you feel the new pressure inside your pants. The odd sensation shifts your attention entirely but Wanda brings her hands to your neck and kisses you hard. You moan into her tongue, hands holding her tight by the waist until her spell is complete. She presses down into you and the kiss is broken with your needy awareness.
“F-fuck, is that…?” You open surprised and aroused eyes at her, looking down where your middles connect only to watch Wanda's equal affected state. Her trembling hands reach down at your pants, trying to pull the garment off.
“Yeah, and I really need you inside now, alright baby? Think you're ready for me?” Her words are rushed as her fingers. Your pants and underwear are stuck in an awkward position on your thighs because Wanda is too impatient to wait another second. She grabs the hardness - barely giving you time to get used to the image or more important the feeling - of that scarlet strap magically placed there - before she sinks down.
It's a form of revenge, maybe. For the way you didn't give her time to prepare before, but what a sweet revenge that was.
The nearly animalistic grunt that escaped you when Wanda's cunt squeezed around you was a sound you didn't know you could make. She, on the other hand, rewards your ears with a pleasant deep moan while she adjusts to the fullness. There's also a new stretch. The toy is obviously larger than your fingers and goes deliciously deeper so Wanda needs to take a deep breath while she welcomes you in.
To her delight, not that you can remember this, but just like the first time you two tried, it's too much of a new overwhelming pleasure for you to handle. You came almost the same second you're bottom up. Tensing and shaking at the new feeling. You gasp, hands falling at the sides to grab the sheets that are torn apart while you hide your face into her neck and your climax washes over you.
Wanda giggles in amusement. The hot shot inside her feels as good as she remembers and you haven't changed. But the toy softening causes you to panic.
“S-sorry, god, I'm so sorry. I don't-”
“Shh, it's okay.” She cuts your anxious babbling immediately, firming her legs around you and bringing her hands to hold your cheeks. “I know it feels like a real one, but it's not a real one.” She says and without any warning, grinds down at you, stealing all the air of your lungs. Wanda bites her lip before adding “See? You're hard again already.”
You can't give her words. The only thing that leaves your mouth is a whine that makes her clench around you.
Suddenly, she's moving. Rough grinding before she's undeniably riding your strap and it's dirty and maddeningly sexy so your hands hold her hips and help her when her body starts to betray her wishes to keep going.
“Oh, Wanda, you feel so nice.” You moan with your eyes closed, outside the shared grunts and your words, the only sounds of the room are the bed creaking and the soaked toy coming in and out of her. Your lovely wife decides to give you a reason to be louder. Her hands push you back at the bed and now you can see her in all of her glory. Her pretty tits bounce with the hard pace she takes on top of you. “W-wait. Easy, I can't hold it if you-”
Her hands move yours - trying to slow her by the waist - away, locking your fingers together at each side of your head. Her hair makes a curtain for your faces but Wanda kisses you again. Your tongues are still moving together when you come first.
Because you're strong - stronger than her that is - scarlet magic holds you still, wrists and ankles when Wanda can't. She holds her climax just a little longer, enough to put on a show for your breathless figure under her when you are able to look up at it.
It's divine when it occurs - The silent scream, her frown before the blissed worn-out expression. The flags of the light, the room vibrating and her eyes bright red before the dark green meets your gaze again.
She smiles down at you, still shaking but somehow ready for another.
“Enjoying yourself aren't you, Avenger?” she repeats your words from before, but the nickname so often used for teasing makes you frown in confusion.
“What is…? But she changed that before you could finish the question.
As quickly as it happened, the scene shifted as if the words never left her lips. You were staring at her, with uneven breathing and adoring eyes.
“Is this really necessary?” For a second, her heart leaped in fear. The possibility that you could tell she altered things. But your gaze shifted to the magic holding you still, and you offered her a pleading stare. “Won’t you let me touch you?”
Wanda sighs, adjusting your hips and seeing the way your jaw tenses at the slight movement. You're still inside her, always magically stimulated to be hard no matter how many times you come. It made sense that you might be sensitive.
She bit her bottom lip, hands resting on your chest.
“But you look so pretty like this…” She starts, leaning in as if going for a kiss. You sigh as her lips meet your cheeks instead, closing your eyes when you feel her smiling before moving down. “I like having you at my mercy.”
You hum, somewhat distracted by her soft grind against you. If you're hard again, that's not only the magic to blame but Wanda's warm pussy squeezing you still.
“But I'm like this all the time.” you joke earning a husky giggle before she puts some distance between your faces again.
You let out a deep sigh when she pulls out the next second, catching her own soft groan at the emptiness. But your words fail you when you look down and see the mixed cum leaking from her and dripping down your abs.
Cursing under your breath a single “fuck.” at the image, you are not surprised at Wanda's naughty giggle.
“You made such a mess, babe.” She teases, the toy still vibrating and it occurs to you that it doesn't just answer to your arousal, but hers as well.
“Me? You're the one who, you know… ride it. I didn't even know I would come through it.” You tried to defend yourself with rosy cheeks but Wanda is clearly teasing you. She giggles again, adjusting herself and causing you to shut up immediately.
“I think you should stop babbling and start cleaning your mess.”
You swallow hard when you realize she's still moving. Up towards your face. The bed makes a strong crack sound when you use all your strength to pull your hands free from her magic chains.
Wanda allows you to break free. Mainly because she loves to feel your hands holding her thighs open when you eat her out.
Some old habits never die.
#wanda maximoff x reader#wanda x reader#elizabeth olsen x reader#marvel imagines#wanda maximoff#wanda maximoff imagines#wanda maximoff oneshots#wanda maximoff smut
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Simon “I Will Never Be A Father” Riley, and how he ended up with a football team worth of kids.
CW: Like 2k words of fluffy Simon, and then 1k words of filth, massive breeding kink, creampie, disgusting sext talk mess. Enjoy! 🩷
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It's not his fault, it's yours.
He met you really early in both of your careers, before either of you had really any important ranks, nor years of experience.
But a mission together to recollect some intel was enough for the two of you to learn each other's names.
It was back when rage still blinded more of Simon's senses, the loss of her family still recent. But you didn't know, obviously, and he wouldn't tell you.
During that mission, he would constantly snap at you, unnecessary remarks and barks at you whenever you would ask something.
Not that you would back down because of the overgrown chihuahua, usually just shouting back and ignoring him. Letting him to simmer in his guilty feelings.
But the time together helped to learn what buttons to press and when to act as if you hadn’t seen something, and by the time you made it back to base, to your different units; you said goodbye shaking hands and saying: “Nice to meet you, Riley. Don't die.”
He didn't say it back, but he felt it more.
Years went by before he saw you again, and after a while, he simply assumed you did in fact, die.
He was higher in his career, already being respected by most and always addressed as Ghost. The rage of his past was already on a secondary level.
More mature, more knowledgeable, more experienced.
But for some reason, he couldn't forget you. He had come across so many different people who would back down just for him looking at them, yet when he screamed at you, you didn't let him win.
He missed you.
He would never admit it, but he missed the girl he met on that mission those years back. Maybe if he had said it back you would be alive.
Maybe.
“Riley?!” An unmistakable voice asks, radiant with happiness from his back.
He turns around, eyes wide open looking for the source, for the girl he met so long ago, for the girl he thought had died.
But he sees you.
The woman, on the same rank as his, grown, more mature, more knowledgeable and more experienced.
Scars and wounds adorning your body just like his.
“What is that mask, Riley?” You ask, smiling widely. “You turned emo?!”
You laugh loudly as you finally walk up to him, an awkward position of not knowing how to say hi after so long apart.
“Aye, didn't want people falling in love with me like you did.” He says, completely baffling but still hoping it was true.
“Argh.” You say, rolling your eyes as you slap his arm. “Well, excuse me, lover boy. Didn't know you have spent all this time fighting the ladies.”
There hasn't been any ladies. Not after you. He realises it in that moment.
“It's the uniform.” He explains, a stupid smug smirk under the mask. “And you? What have you been up to?”
“The usual, learned German, I knit now, killed a couple of hundred terrorists, and got my flying licence!” You enunciate, slightly jumping with the last.
He doesnt realizes that the mask is not covering his eyes, and that no matter how cold and stoic he tries to act; you can see clearly as day the affection and happiness from seeing you again.
This time, when you say goodbye, you keep each other numbers. A way to stay in contact, to check once a month if you are still alive.
But again, time goes by before meeting in person again.
And when it happens, Ghost is already on the 141; and it's not him the one that sees you first.
“We are having a surprise guest on the next operation.” Price says one morning while they are having breakfast. “She’s from another base, but has an amazing resume. She's a lieutenant too. And with an ugly character, like you” He says, pointing at Ghost.
And he knows it's you.
It gotta be.
And a couple of days later, when you enter the mess hall; walking behind him and slapping the back of his head, he is elated.
“I knew I was smelling trash.” You say, looking down on him. Barely a bit taller than him when he is seated.
He turns his body, resting his arm around your hips. “How long are going to be following me for, ya rat?”
“Hmm, not my fault you can't do your fucking job, useless bitch.” You say with a smile on your face as you rest your arm over his shoulders.
“Well, somebody gotta take out the trash, you cunt.” He says, a smug smile on his face.
“Aww, are you telling me to take you out, lover boy?” You say, resting your hand on your chest. That makes him bark a laugh, patting your side after, before saying. “I'm glad to see you are still in one piece, idiot.”
“The feeling is mutual, dickhead.”
And that was the first time that Simon’s hand was resting on your hips, but definitely not the last.
The first mission together with the 141 was an absolute shit show, everything that could have gone wrong… went wrong. And if it wasn't because of your stubbornness, it would have been Simon’s last mission.
Being trapped under debris, unable to get out of the burning building. Everyone was already out, only him inside, talking on the radio to tell the team to leave him behind.
Except you, who managed to slip through Price's orders and run into the obvious death trap. Able to take the debris keeping Simon trapped with his help, both of you using the extra strength that only comes out in emergencies. Unknowingly, both of you going to the extreme of your resistance to make sure the other didn't die inside the building.
And when he was in the hospital bed, days later, and you came to visit him, and you leaned forward and kissed him. It was the first kiss, but not the last one.
The two of you, already adults perfectly functional, able to instruct armies, take down terrorist organisations, and yet… it was not until 8 months after the first kiss that one of you managed to ask the other out.
“The team were going out for drinks tonight, but they bailed… do you want to go still? The two of us?”
To this day, Simon still believes it was his doing that the two of you went alone to the pub, and you still have not had the heart to tell him it was you the one who asked Price, Soap and Gaz to tell him they couldn't go.
And once the door was opened, everything went smoothly and easily. Not bothering to call the relationship in any way, as if the two of you haven't been exclusive to the other from the first moment you met.
Still, even more time went on before something more than kisses went down. Until the two of you went on separate missions, months spent apart from each other, only to reach base again at the same time.
And as if you had planned, you walked to each other room. Meeting exactly in the middle and jumping into each other arms.
Not that anyone else on the team had doubts about what went on between the two of you, but still was a surprising view. And you pulled Simon by his hand inside of his room, every doubt crumb was erased.
And once it started, everything else went in a blur. By the time you took notice, the two of you were already married for a couple of years, the honeymoon phase was still strong, and expecting your first child.
And Simon, who had always promised he would never have kids, now was obsessed with your pregnant self. During the pregnancy, he couldn't keep his hands away from your body.
Constantly feeling you up, every inch of skin, from your hips, to your breast, to your tummy. Completely obsessed and enamoured with your body, changing and adjusting to bear his child. His big-ass child. That had you wabling from the second trimester.
He missed the birth, away on a mission when you were in your seventh month. Promising the mission would last a week, but he didn't take a step into your house until three months later. He didn't look Price at his face for weeks after the due date passed.
The worst part was that there was no communication with you, complete radio silence. Again, like so many years ago; you could be dead and he wouldn't know.
And when the plane landed, he took the quickest shower of his life. Because the worst case scenario was coming home to an empty house, but the worst second was holding his child for the first time with the blood of his enemies still on his hands. He wouldn't taint such an innocent thing.
The door almost fell from the hinges when he entered, eyes looking through the house. Breathing only because he could see light from the bedroom, and then you walked out of the room.
Looking at him with tears on your eyes as you run to him, jumping on his arms and getting crushed by his hug. Muttering apologies as he kissed your head, he still has not forgiven himself for failing you that day.
You shake your head, grabbing his hand and pulling him towards the bedroom. He freezes on his spot, as if he just remembered that he had a child; your abdomen way flatter than when he left.
“C’mon, Si… Do you not want to meet your son?”
A son.
He had a son.
He followed you into the room, unable to say a word as he saw the tiny human sleeping in the middle of the bed.
He walked behind you, waiting for instructions, his brain struggling to work normally. You tell him to sit down, picking the baby to lay him on his arms. The father finally holding his son for the first time.
And when the baby exhaled a satisfied sigh at the warmth pooling from Simon’s body, the first tear rolled down his cheek.
He didn't sleep that night, it didn't matter that he had barely been able to sleep the weeks before, he couldn't pull his eyes away from the baby. So that night, he stayed seated, with the baby on his arms and with you sleeping by his side.
The happiest night of his life.
He finally took his parental leave, almost smashing the phone against the wall when Price called him; even though it was to congratulate him.
And Simon, who always had believed he would never have kids, now had one. And that might have been the first child he had, but it was definitely not the last one.
Because a couple of weeks later, when the two of you went to base; to introduce the baby to his teammates, Simon couldn't stop thinking about how good you looked with his child strapped to your body.
His little head resting over your full breasts, sleeping and perfectly unaware of every problem in the world. But Simon couldn't stop looking at your chest, body changed to bear and care for his child; it was only fair he paid back.
So when Gaz asked if he could hold the baby, it was Simon who helped you take the baby out of the little koala backpack; letting him hold it.
And with a weak excuse, took you to his bedroom. Barely managing to close the door before bending you over his desk, pulling your pants down and stuffing your cunt with his thick fingers. Giving you barely any prep before the strain on his hardening shaft was too much for him to keep it away from your soaked cunt. Groaning in your ear as he thrusts fast and hard into your sweet pussy, rubbing your clit with his fingertip making you cling into the desk.
“Such a good fucking mama you are.” He moans into your ear. “Driving me fucking crazy every time I look at you, so fucking beautiful, so fucking breathtaking, darling.”
Half of what he says doesn't make sense and the other half you can't even hear from over the sounds of the moans.
“Gonna fuck you full of my child again, gonna keep you barefoot and pregnant, mama.” He moans again, kissing your neck from behind as his free hand keeps roaming your body, needing to feel more and more of you. “Looking like a bloody goddess with my child, gonna keep fucking you until it fucking catches, and then again, and again, and again… Do you want that, mama? Do you want it as much as me?”
“Fuck, yes!” You moan back, just as fuck out as him. The unforgiving pace pushing the breath out of your lungs, your legs barely able to hold your weight but it's not like Simon would let you fall.
More and more words and promises keep falling from Simon's mouth, making it hard for your orgasm to take any longer to wash over you.
But then Simon turns you around, laying you on your back and pulling your legs up, your knees beside your head; before he starts to thrust into you again, his happy trail rubbing against your clit.
“Gonna make it catch, gonna fuck you so deep it is not even going to spill. Gonna get you fucking pregnant again, and this time I'm not gonna go away for a fucking second. Gotta give the little shit a sibling, ah?”
The stretch of your legs being pulled so back into your head making it almost uncomfortable if you were able to think at the moment. Your hands grabbing into his forearms to steady yourself.
“The best fucking mama in the world you are, ah? Taking such good care of him.” He groans, engulfing your boob with his enormous hand. “Getting these tits fucking massive just for him, fucking little shit don't know how lucky he is to get such a good fucking moma.”
And you are ashamed to admit it, but the disgusting praises are enough to throw you over the edge; your head falling back against the desk with a loud cry of his name.
“Fucking hell, darling.” He groans just like you. “That's it, choke my fucking cock, love. Milk it dry, suck it in. Fuck! Such a fucking perfect cunt, I would fucking live here. Sucking me in so good, such a greedy fucking cunt. I'm gonna fuck you so deep, I'm gonna give you twins, darling.”
And he doesn't give you time to breathe, his hips slapping hard against yours making you mewl at the overstimulation. Clenching down at the prolonged orgasm.
You hear him groan over your exhausted body. “Fuuuck… Shit, love. Yeah… just like that, take it in, love, take it in. Hold it in, don't let it go to waste love.”
You fill him spill deep inside of you, pulling your legs impossibly higher lifting your butt off the desk, bending you in half with your cunt completely exposed.
“Such a beautiful fucking cunt.” He says before leaning down, kissing your clit as if he was pecking your lips, only for him to literally make out with your cunt. Making you hiss and pull his hair back to make him stop and be able to breathe for a second.
He pulls his head back, only to accumulate the saliva and arousal on his mouth and spit it back over your cunt making you shudder. He lowers your legs, impaling you back on his still hard shaft, pulling the breath from your lungs once more.
“There you go, mama. Stuffed and plugged, so there is no risk.” He says, letting your legs rest down as he moves his hands to each side of your hips, pushing you impossibly closer to him, hitting as deep as he has ever reached. Slightly moving you up and down so your clit rubs against his pelvic bone, making you whine as you clench around him.
“Simon… Si, I need to fucking breathe.” You whine, trying to grab his hand.
“Nah, you got this…” He says without looking at your face, completely hypnotised by the way your folds part to take his cock in. “You are doing amazing, sweetheart.”
Is only hours later, that Simon comes out of his room. Clothes changed, showered and without you (who is currently sleeping on his bed, too exhausted to even stay awake), and he walks up to the mess hall, where he assumed the boys are.
Picking his beloved son from his captain's hands. “There you are, my boy.” He says softly, picking up the baby that looks ridiculously small in his arms. “Time for bed.”
“Oi, LT!” Soap calls him. “So when is his sibling being born?”
He looks at Soap, his expression changing to a stern one. “Don't be disgusting, Johnny. That's my family you are talking about, have some decency”.
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#call of duty#call of duty smut#ghost simon riley#ghost x reader#cod#cod smut#call of duty imagine#ghost imagine#cod imagine#cod mw2#ghost x y/n#ghost x you#simon ghost riley#ghost smut#simon ghost riley x reader#ghost#simon ghost riley x you#ghost cod#mw2 ghost#ghost mw2#cod x reader#cod modern warfare#call of duty modern warfare#call of duty x reader#ghost x female reader#ghost call of duty#simon riley x reader#simon riley x female reader#simon riley#cod mwii
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FIRST - LN
lando discovers his bestfriends little sister is a virgin, and will stop at no lengths to change that (and ruin her for anyone else)
warnings: smut!! MDNI!! virgin reader, fewtrell!sister, mostly soft smut with a small innocence kink
✧ it's officially assignment szn and ur girl is STRESSED. my posts wont be as frequent for a while but i am currently creating a backlog of things to post! ✧
masterlist the playlist
“ok, y/n - truth or dare?” ria asked the girl from across the circle they sat in on the floor of max’s living room.
being so close in age to her older brother, y/n fewtrell fit in well with his friendship group, often preferring to hang out with them over her own friends. a few others were dotted around the house, P and a couple girls using the kitchen. they were all due to head to a club soon, only using max’s house to pre drink as he lived closest.
“truth,” she responded, giggling slightly as the alcohol began to turn her tipsy - not drunk, just jolly she had told max when he last checked on her.
“where is the weirdest place you’ve had sex?” ria asked, giggling to herself at the rest of the group laughed, turning to face y/n for her answer. she went silent, heat rising her face gradually. her eyes scanned the group, everyone staring expectantly at her - only max avoided her gaze, looking at his phone to queue songs to the playlist.
“i- uh, well i guess i…haven’t?” she replied, wishing the ground would open up and swallow her whole. she didn’t know why she was so embarrassed - she was 19, almost 20, and it seemed that everyone around her was coupled up, or at least active in that department. and, it hadn’t been through lack of trying, every man she had almost been with had found out and used it to get to who she was related to - and subsequently, lando - or gave her the ick before they got the chance to.
“what do you mean you haven’t?!” niran had laughed out, he hadn’t meant to laugh, he just couldn’t believe it.
“i ju-”
“ok can we stop quizzing my little sister on her sex life? please,” max interrupted, y/n sighing out a breath of relief when they finally moved to the next person. her eyes scouted across the group of people, glad to see them all distracted and no longer giving her the sympathy eyes over her pathetic excuse of a love life.
in her embarrassment, however, y/n missed the way lando’s eyes had darted to look at her when she had answered, missing the way they darkened slightly at the revelation. he shook the thoughts plaguing his mind away, focusing on keeping his face neutral as he watched the blush rising her cheeks.
she didn’t miss the way his eyes followed her as she snuck out the room, however. she’d hope no one would notice her sneaking into the kitchen, smiling at P before swiping a bottle of something and heading to the garden, legs landing gracefully to sit on a step.
this was not the first time she had dwelled on this, but this time, she could at least comfort the blow of her overactive brain by drinking - or so she thought. as not a moment after she’d removed the cap, the bottle was being snatched from her hands and closely inspected by a man towering above her crouched body.
“this smells like ass, y/n - are you sure you wanna drink it?” lando asked her, lowering himself to sit on the step next to her. the sky was darkening, stars filling the vast blackness.
“yes im sure, thanks dad,” she mocked him, arms reaching over to snatch the bottle from him, but once again, he moved his arm out, stretching the bottle further from her reach.
“nuh uh!” lando said, shaking his head, “only when you tell me why you intend on drinking what im sure is the finest bottle of… £3.99 vodka - jesus, £3.99?”
“sorry mister ‘owns-2-mclarens-and-a-lambo’,” she replied, leaning further into his side in a desperate bid to get the bottle back - she wasn’t even sure she wanted to drink it anymore, she just wanted something to fiddle with when lando eventually forced her to talk to him.
“didn’t answer my question, darlin’” he told her, placing the bottle besides him as he removed one of his threaded bracelets, placing it in her exposed palm.
oh he knew her a little too well.
“i jus- no it’s so stupid,” she conceded, the bracelet twisting around her fingers. she stared directly at it, refusing to meet lando’s intense gaze.
“bet it’s not,” he told her, moving an arm to wrap around her when he felt the chill air brush his own skin.
“you know what’s worse than having to announce to your friends that you’re a lonely little virgin that no one wants? being the lonely little virgin. it’s so fucking embarrassing - i’m 19, hell i’m nearly 20 and when everyone around you has someone in their life, it’s so hard not to feel so behind in your own life, to feel completely unlovable, to constantly feel like there’s something wrong with you,” she breathed out, still refusing to make eye contact with the man besides her.
lando took in a deep breath, choosing his next words so carefully. his hand reached up to her chin, turning her face to look up at his.
“y/n, you are not unlovable, you’re not falling behind in life and there is certainly nothing wrong with you,” he told her, his tone harsh in attempt to knock some sense into her. she shook her head at him in disbelief, his hand dropping back to his side.
“see, i really want to believe you but the evidence isn’t really stacking up in support of your argument. if that was true, i probably wouldn’t be sat in my brother’s back garden throwing myself a pity party.”
“i think your brother might’ve had a part to play in this, if im honest y/n,” lando said, slipping up slightly. she paused at his words, before her head shot round to look at him again.
“what? what do you mean max has something do with the fact no one wants me?”
“it’s not that no one wants you, y/n,” he sighed at her again before giving in, realising he’d already said too much to stop now, “it’s just that max has a bad habit of… threatening anyone who even mentions you in that way?” he added, his tone making it sound like he wasn’t even sure himself.
“threatening them?” she repeated, anger beginning to bubble up in her stomach.
“he’s only actually hit 2 of them - hell even ive had a close call with his fist a few times,” lando laughed, before realising what he’d indirectly admitted to. luckily, neither of them had time to dwell on it before the man in question popped his head round the door.
“what are you two losers doing out here?” he joked, before sensing some tension being thrown his way, “whatever, we’re leaving in a minute if you wanna get ready?”
“no thanks,” y/n told him, pushing herself up and beginning to walk past him.
“huh?” max replied, confused.
“i said, no thanks. wouldn’t wanna risk you punching anyone who shows the slightest interest in me,” she added, arms crossed over her chest as she glared at him. she turned quickly on her heel, walking off, ignoring the group as she trailed up to the spare bedroom.
the two boys shared a look between them, lando’s face holding that of apology whilst max’s was gradually moving to infuriated.
“what did you tell her?” max asked him, jaw clenching slightly.
“i didn’t mean to,” lando replied, throwing his arms out slightly as he stood up, “i just thought she ought to know that the reason boys don’t go for her is not because she is completely unlovable.”
“she said that?” max asked, startled slightly at the comment, “she thought she was unlovable?”
lando said nothing, throwing a simple nod at him before brushing past him and making his way to the front door.
y/n laid in her bed, her mind racing through the conversation with lando, like a record on repeat. she’d heard the rest of them leave the house almost an hour ago, leaving her to lay with her own thoughts once more.
there was nothing wrong with her, max just threatened anyone who came too close to her.
max had punched 2 guys who had tried to get with her.
max had tried to punch lando - wait, why had he tried to punch lando?
the sound of the front door opening, then quickly shutting again drew her from her thoughts, a natural panic spreading through her veins.
“hello?” she called out, confused as to who could be walking in the house right now. there was no response for a moment, the sound of footsteps climbing the stairs filled the silence.
“it’s just me, baby,” a voice called out, the childhood nickname letting her know it was lando approaching her bedroom. the name used to be max and lando’s attempt to tease the girl, calling her a baby when she cried after dropping her ice cream. that was when she was 7, but 13 years later, the nickname still stuck. somewhere along the line, the name had turned from mimicking to a term of endearment, blurring the lines of their friendship every time he called out to her.
“oh thank god, i thought you were a murderer,” she joked, her breathing easing as his head poked around the door, eyes meeting hers.
“you thought i was a murderer and chose to shout ‘hello’? brave, or stupid?” lando joked back.
“never let them know your next move,” y/n replied with a shrug, before noticing the way one of lando’s hands remained hidden behind the door, “whatcha got there?” she asked him, the way one would ask a dog who had something they shouldn’t.
“depends, are you gonna be nice to me?” he shot back.
“me? im always nice to you, lan,” an innocent smile built on her face.
“tell that to the scar on my back.”
“tell the scar on your back to get over it, it was 10 years ago,” she snorted as he moved further into the door frame.
“no ice cream for you then,” lando replied, smirking at her as he shrugged.
“you got ice cream?” she asked, eyes widening at him.
“thought you might wanna watch a film and forget about tonight with a flurry.”
“gimme,” y/n said, making grabby hands that would’ve been embarrassing had she not already had the worst night of her life.
“nuh uh, not until you’re nice to m-”
“oh get over here you drama queen,” she groaned at him, patting the spot next to her on the bed. lando would never say no to her, giving in so easily as he climbed under the blanket, an arm falling naturally behind her head as he did.
he began fiddling with the tv remote, scrolling through netflix for something to watch. y/n leant further into his embrace, her head settling lightly on his chest as she looked up at him.
“lan - why didn’t you stay at the club?” she asked quietly, fighting the urge to fiddle with her fingers, nervous at the thought of insinuating that he’d want to spend his evening with her instead.
“clubs are only good when you’re drunk,” lando replied with a shrug, eyes still focused on the tv, “id rather just be the designated driver and still be able to get up for training in the morning.”
his eyes flitted down at her quickly, glad she’d returned her gaze to the screen as if he’d seen her wide eyes staring up at him, lando doubted he’d be able to control himself. what she’d revealed earlier still flew around his brain as he fought desperately to shake away any thoughts of taking her innocence, ruining her for anyone else. god, he felt like a creep.
the two fell into a comfortable silence, both of them appearing to focus on the film playing in front of them. lando’s hand remained tightly around her waist, his hand moving beneath her shirt slightly for his fingers to trace circles into her skin. her head remained on his chest, each breath taking in the lingering smell of his aftershave.
“lan?” she broke the silence again, looking up at him once again.
“yes, baby?” he replied, eyes never straying from the screen.
“what did you mean earlier when you said max had even tried to punch you?”
his head shot down to look at her, feeling himself crumble slightly as her eyes stared widely up at him, her tired voice drawing him further into the trap. he could lie, tell her it was a misunderstanding. or he could tell her the truth, and pray it didn’t destroy his entire friendship with the fewtrell siblings.
“when you told me i wasn’t unlovable earlier, you really meant…” she asked, filling in for his silence. she trailed off at the end of her sentence, unwilling to get her hopes up.
“yeah.. so about that,” he said, trying to regain his confidence. she hit at his chest lightly, pushing herself to sit up and look at his face clearer than ever.
“how long?” she asked him with unwavering eye contact.
“longer than i want to admit,” lando replied, smiling at her awkwardly, “and i understand if you don’t fe-”
“kiss me.”
“wha-”
“you heard me,” she told him before joining their lips apprehensively. it started off slow, both testing the waters before falling into a steady pace. his tongue swiped her bottom lip softly, deepening the kiss as his hand raised to hold her jaw. she stifled a moan, embarrassed at the way her body was reacting to the slightest touch.
“don’t get shy on me now, baby,” he told her, hands dropping to her waist, “come ‘ere.”
lando’s hands settled on her hips, fingers gripping at them slightly to guide her onto his lap. as she settled into the new position, he kissed her again, gentle in the way he pulled her in closer, his free hand disappearing under her shirt to draw circles into her skin once more. her hips instinctively rolled into his at the feeling, and he gripped at her skin harder, a small groan escaping his mouth.
“fuck, keep that up and i won’t be able to stop,” he warned her as she rolled her hips again. his head dropped to her jaw, pressing soft kisses along the skin.
“what if i don’t want this to stop?” she asked him, causing him to pause, looking up at her softly.
“are you sure?” he asking, checking her face for any sign of hesitancy. she nodded at him before speaking.
“there’s no one i trust more.”
with her reassurance, lando flipped the top of them over, trailing kisses down her neck as he hovered above her.
“we’ll go slow,” he told her as he pulled at her t-shirt, tugging the fabric up her torso, “wanted this for so long. gonna take my time with you,” he mumbled, pressing soft kisses to the skin of her stomach. her back arched into him slightly, helping him remove her top fully. y/n felt exposed, more so than usual. had it not been for lando’s large hands snaking up to grab at her breasts, she would’ve used her own to shield her nudity.
“so gorgeous,” he mumbled again, before dipping his head to take one of her nipples in his mouth, tongue flicking at it, his fingers tugged at the other. he pushed himself back up, re joining their lips in a sweet kiss.
“gonna make you feel good, alright?” he asked her, watching the way her head nodded at him, “yeah? need you to use your words from now on baby.”
“think you should take your top off now,” she told him, her confidence returning slightly, “seems a bit unfair,” she added, jokingly pointing at her own exposed chest.
“so it is,” he agreed, sitting back on his knees as his hands gripped the bottom of his own t-shirt, lifting it over his head. the material landed on the floor, but y/n couldn’t care less - she was much more focused on the way his muscles looked, a combination of his tan and the soft fairy lights illuminating his features in a way that had her stomach rolling for him.
“oi! my eyes are up here,” he joked, settling himself between her legs. lando’s hands trailed up the exposed skin of her thighs, dragging his fingers slowly. her hips jutted up slightly at the sensation, a satisfied smirking fighting its way onto lando’s face.
“this ok?” he asked her, hands toying with the waistband of her shorts.
“yeah,” she breathed out, anticipation beginning to get the better of her as he began pulling the material away from her heat.
“tell me to stop and i’ll stop,” lando told her, discarding her shorts with his top, before adjusting his gaze to her, “just relax f’me. breathe,” he added, noticing the way her chest had frozen, breath caught in her throat. a finger ran through her folds softly, her hips rolling slightly at the sudden feeling of his rough finger pad circling her clit. his movements stopped for a moment as he moved back up her body, kissing her softly as he gathered her slick along his fingers.
“so wet for me,” he told her, kissing at her jaw, “gonna get you ready for me, ok?”
“please, lan,” she begged, panting slightly as his fingers circled her heat again, pressing into her slightly. it’s not like she hadn’t done this before on herself, which was potentially her downfall the moment he pressed a finger into her, the stretch unexpected. lando’s face pressed into her neck, kissing a trail along the skin as he pumped his finger a few times. he could hear every noise she made for him so clearly, drawing him to push a second finger into her, feeling the way her walls clamped around him.
“im ready, lan, please just fuck me,” she begged him, panting in between her words. he could’ve passed out her words, blood rushing from his brain and straight to his cock. his body pushed back up, standing quickly to remove the rest of his clothes. her hands halted him as they reached out and grabbed at the waist band of his joggers, pulling them down slowly as the pressure of his cock strained against the tight material. he helped her remove them fully, her spare hand adding difficulty as she palmed him through his boxers.
“fuck, angel,” he groaned, careful not to overwhelm her as she pulled at his boxers, tugging them down as she had his joggers. however they soon established his noises were not as overwhelming as the size of his cock - her eyes widening as she came face to face with it, her finger running down the thick vein that travelled his length.
“like what you see?” he joked in attempt to ease her nerves.
“how-? is that gonna fit?” she stuttered, gaze travelling down to her stomach as if she were trying to size herself up.
“im sure we’ll make it work,” he replied, hand reaching to her chin, forcing her to look back up at him, “remember, we can stop whenever.”
she nodded at him, before reaching up, looping her arms around his neck to pull him into a kiss. he used the leverage to lay her back down, hovering over her once again as he rested on his forearm. without breaking the kiss, he reached down, guiding his cock through her folds a few times before settling the tip at her entrance.
“you sure?” lando checked again, searching her face for any last minute apprehension.
“are you sure?” she retorted, her smile illuminated by the moons glow, “can’t imagine fucking a virgin is high on your bucket list.”
“you’d be surprised,” he responded, mumbling slightly, his cock throbbed in his hand. he began lowering his hips, pushing into her slowly, low grunts falling from his lips as he disappeared further inside her.
“breathe baby, breathe for me,” he told her, feeling the way her body had tensed, her chest stilling as she inhaled deeply, “feel so good.”
lando waited a moment, watching the way her face softened, his necklace dangling dangerously around her lips. he started moving at a gentle pace, careful to listen to her responses.
“feels good,” she told him, eyes looking into his.
“yeah? ‘my the first person to make you feel good?” he asked, baiting her slightly.
“yes, fuck lan. only you.”
he close to lost it, his brain short circuiting at her words. he began to move faster in her, relishing in the way she moaned his name, her walls contracting around his cock. his hand reached between the two of them, fingers flicking at her clit before drawing pressured circles around her heat.
“faster, lan, please,” y/n begged him, her hand raising to tug at his curls.
“gonna ruin you for anyone else, angel,” he grunted, hips snapping into hers at a brutal pace, his eyes focused on the way her breasts moved in unison with his thrusts.
lando felt his high coming quicker than he could ever remember, feeling the way her grip on his bicep tightened and her breathing became more sporadic letting him know she was close too.
“you wanna cum with me?” he asked her, his tone soft whilst his pace remained rough, his fingers beginning to trace his own name on her clit. it gave him a sense of ownership over her, an invisible trace of him that would linger on her sensitivity forever - and she loved it, whining at the feeling of his skin on hers.
“please, fuck. wanna cum,” she told him, eyes shutting as her head rolled back. lando’s head dropped to her exposed neck, his teeth nipping at the skin before he titled his head further, mouth landing on the flesh of her breast. he’d quickly realised that leaving visible mark on his best friends little sister was potentially not the smartest idea, choosing to nip at the skin of her tit, mouth sucking the flesh into his lips as he did. his raised himself up again, admiring the way blood ran to the surface of her skin, only imagining the way she’d look when a bruise formed on the spot.
“only me?” he asked her, hand moving to grip her jaw, dark eyes locking with hers.
“only you,” she replied in a breathless moan.
“good girl,” he said, feeling the way her hips rolled up into his, heat running through her entire body as her climax washed over her. y/n shook around him lightly, her stomach spasming as she rode out her high, but lando couldn’t stop and admire the view. he pulled out quickly, feeling his own high rising in his cock, both of their eyes glued on the way his cock shot out ropes of cum that landed on her stomach.
“so….” she started, trying to fill the somewhat awkward tension in the room.
“we are so doing that again,” he said with a chuckle and he moved to locate his joggers on the floor.
“oh absolutely,” she replied, laughing with him as the fear of him leaving her washed away, though her eyebrow quirked up at him as he shuffled to the door.
“just grabbing a cloth. gotta get you cleaned up so we can finish the film,” he added with a smile.
minutes later, they were both sat back in the bed, her legs thrown over his lap as one hand grazed the skin of his back lightly, lando’s hand running up and down her thigh in a similar fashion. they sat in a comfortable silence, knowing that eventually they would need to discuss the future of this, the future of them, but for now lando relished in the way her hand continuously stroked at the same spot on his back. the same spot - he internally questioned.
“watcha doing?” he finally asked, curious to her supposed fixation on his left shoulder blade.
“apologising to the scar on your back?” she retorted, circling back to their earlier conversation.
“never apologise for anything ever again,” he mumbled into her hair, before pressing a kiss to the top of her head.
“what if i murdered your entire family?” she piped up.
“i support women’s rights and their wrongs.”
“preach.”
-
✧ inbox/requests are open ✧
#lando norris#lando norris x reader#lando norris smut#lando x reader#lando smut#lando norris imagine#lando norris fanfic#formula 1#mclaren f1#mclaren#lando norris fluff#propertyofwicked#maxfewtrell#fewtrell!sister
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Breath Me In
Pairing: Paige Bueckers x Reader
Warnings: Smut (Fingering), weed, alcohol
Summary: Uconn’s end of summer party brings you all sorts of highs.
A/n: can you tell I like party settings??? Anyways. We need more fics of Paige receiving instead of always giving pls!! Someone please this girl!
Summer is coming to a close. Long August days turn to colder September nights, and the students of Uconn have mostly moved in for the new semester. A new year of college calls for a party.
Uconns annual end-of-summer party was an absolute staple to attend for seniors, richer students who lived in housing nearby often responsible for hosting. Summery rap and pop blasting, coolers and twisted tea by the gallons, string lights in big green backyards, patio furniture overrun by couples making out or slowly sobering up. It was a sight to behold, and you relished in the feeling of this, the beginning of the end of school.
When you make your way throughout the house, various people stop to talk to you, including the hostess herself.
Stella DeSantos is a trust fund girl who’s in her senior year for sports marketing, and this years lucky party organizer. She has the means, obviously, because the house is massive.
“So… gonna start the year off with some dick or what?” She laughs, already tipsy.
You just smile and shake your head. “I’m chill right now.” Is your reply. Honestly you just didn’t want to pull the ‘id rather have pussy’ card on her.
The girl swings an arm around you. “I could set you up with some really athletic guys if that’s your thing.” She hiccups. “Want a drink?”
She thrusts a mango white claw into your hand and you take it reluctantly. As much as you loved getting wasted the party was a bit too rowdy to feel comfortable. You were desperately searching for someone you knew well enough to hang out with that wasn’t already drunk, with no luck.
You stick by Stella for a while, standing by as she greets people and gets drunker by the minute. You’re still holding the same White-claw, though it’s mostly empty.
You’re scoping out the scene yourself, the house is filled with kids you’ve been in school with for the past years. Your gaze stops in the kitchen, where two girls reside. One tall with dark skin, hair slicked back and clothes baggy. You’d had classes with Aubrey Griffin before, she was intimidating but attractive.
The other girl was paler and slightly shorter, blonde hair tied back into a bun and glasses on her face.
“Paige!” Stella calls out, as if sensing your thoughts. She makes her way over to the two girls and you awkwardly follow behind. Everyone knows Paige Bueckers. She’s one of those students, everyone mostly likes her and she’s friends with all the right people. It puzzled you how someone so gay still attracted so many guys.
Stella talks to Aubrey and Paige, and they politely engage despite obviously being thrown off by how drunk she is. Their shared looks almost make you laugh. You take this as a chance to get a good look at Paige. She mostly stayed out of trouble or tough rumours, and kept to her main group of friends, so aside from her talent on the court you knew almost nothing.
You let yourself stare at her, noting her blue eyes, long lashes and wide smile. She carried herself confidently, but looked uncomfortable.
Finally she turns to meet your eye, and when her tongue flashes out to wet her lips you physically feel something in your stomach drop.
“You her babysitter or something?” She smirks.
“You’d think she knows how much she can handle by now.” You scoff. Stella barely notices, fully talking to Aubrey.
Paige’s eyes dart to the drink in your hand. “Good luck finding a ride home tonight.”
Before you can respond, maybe by telling her your name or sparking better conversation, Stella’s attention is drawn somewhere else and she starts to drag you away.
You turn to get one last look at Paige, and internally celebrate when your eyes meet.
-
As the summer sun finally began to set, it got a little too cold for everyone to be outside. The inside of the house was absolutely packed, the music was louder and the air was thicker. The smell of smoke and sound of people was starting to irritate you, but for whatever reason you didn’t want to leave just yet.
Stella was nowhere to be found and you were sitting on the kitchen counter next to some other girls, quietly sipping some drink while listening in to conversations. The original plan of staying mostly sober was ruined by your boredom, and though you weren’t drunk you felt significantly warmer and a little more confident.
“Oh, it’s you again.” A voice says. You turn to see it’s Paige and your heart skips a beat.
“I have a name.” You reply, not caring if you come off rude. She doesn’t seem to care either, just raising her eyebrows at you. “And it is?”
You tell her your name and she repeats it to herself with a smile. “I’m Paige.”
“I figured.” You laugh. The alcohol was making everything seem like less of a deal, had you talked to her more before you probably wouldn’t have been so casual.
“You drunk?” She asks, leaning against the counter across from you. At this angle you’re pretty much looking down at her, she looks cuter with her eyes wide and head tilted slightly upwards. You almost let your imagination get ahead of you.
“Getting there. You?”
Paige shakes her head no. “You don’t seem like much of a drinker.”
With a shrug, you say “This party is less fun than I thought it would be.”
“I’m gonna head outside if you’re tryna come.” She shrugs back.
You hop off of the counter and are reminded of the fact that Paige isn’t short. She seems happy that she’s not looking up at you anymore.
“Sure, why not.” You smile.
She leads you to the backyard and the sudden quiet is surprising. The music is muffled and the air is fresher, it’s a beautiful night and the yard is empty for the two of you. Paige heads straight for the pool, sitting down by the edge of the deep end and taking off her shoes, letting her legs dangle in the water. You join her and do the same.
“So you came to a party and you’re not drinking or getting high?” You ask her.
“Ah ah,” she smirks. “I’m getting high for sure, jus had to be a little sneaky. You can keep a secret, right?” Paige tilts her head at you, and you almost melt right there and then.
“I’m great at keeping secrets.” You eye her, tilting your head like she does. “But can all those people?” You gesture to the kids inside the house.
“Everyone in there is gonna be too drunk to remember me sneaking out for a blunt with a girl.” She finally breaks eye contact, reaching into her pocket for a tin of pre-rolled blunts.
She said ‘with a girl’ like her being with you could be a topic of conversation. The thought makes your mind race.
When Paige lights up and gets the first hit, her whole composure loosens.
The blue from the pool water reflecting onto her face, the slight glow of the blunt against her lips, the way she blows the smoke afterwards. It’s driving you insane.
You stare at your legs in the water, her pale ones next to yours. The night is beautiful. She’s beautiful. You wonder if she’ll remember anything tomorrow.
“Want sum?” Paige interrupts your thoughts, holding out the blunt. You know you shouldn’t mix weed with alcohol, but your heart is buzzing and her lips had already been on it, so you can’t say no.
Taking it from her nimble fingers (which you cursed yourself for even noticing) you inhale, letting the smoke fill you up before letting out a long breath, trying to ignore her sharp eyes on you.
“I’m surprised I haven’t noticed you around before.” She says, taking back the blunt. You let the statement linger in the air. For every hit you take, she takes three. Her cheeks are flushed and her eyes are already slightly pink.
“Are you not the noticing type?” You ask.
Paige’s eyes meet yours. “Are you?”
You laugh and take the blunt from her, holding the smoke in before tilting your head back and blowing it into the night sky.
“I notice a lot of things.” you say, glancing at her lips before meeting her eyes again.
“Oh yeah?” She says quietly, analyzing your features. If it weren’t for the drinks and the weed, you would’ve felt like prey under her watch.
“Yeah.” You match her tone.
She’s closer than you remember her being. The air smells like weed and chlorine, but she smells like summer.
Nobody says anything, you just keep passing the blunt.
“What was your first time getting high like?” You ask her.
“Freshman year, me and some other girls on my team decided we were gonna do it together.” She chuckles and shakes her head. “Don’t know why we started with edibles, but we were still high the next morning.”
“Oh shit.” You laugh.
“Yeah,” she huffs “and we had practice that afternoon, must’ve gone through like 3 bottles of eye drops each. What about you?”
“Senior year of high school.” You cringe and she smiles at your expression. “My girlfriend- at the time, was kind of addicted. Didn’t seem like a big deal then, but she begged me to smoke and I did. It was whatever.”
“Girlfriend?” She asks.
“You’re surprised?” You chuckle. “Shit, you really don’t notice anything.”
“Shut up.” She flicks your shoulder. “Any girlfriend now?”
“Fuck no.”
“I feel that.” She blows smoke into the crisp air. There’s a moment of comfortable silence, you looking into the water and her looking at you, before she finally says “Can I try something?”
“Like what?” You ask.
You can tell her thinking is slightly hazy, she’s moving slower and her eyes are tired, it’s attractive.
“Lemme jus show you…don’t freak.”
Paige takes a hit, then leans into you. In an instance her lips are on yours, prying you open and exhaling smoke into your mouth, then she pulls away. You resist the urge to choke, but manage to exhale smoothly. Your lips tingle where she made contact with you, and you feel your face get red at her expression. Paige is practically entranced.
“Little warning would’ve been better next time.” You cough.
“We can try again if you want.” She smirks, and you roll your eyes.
Once again Paige takes a hit then leans into you, this time placing her hand on your face. She huffs the smoke inside your mouth and you gladly take it, now knowing what to expect. When she pulls away you don’t turn your head, you just blow out the smoke, letting it cloud both your vision and hers. When it clears she’s staring dead at your lips.
Her lips meet yours again, this time without any weed. She’s taking her time with you, tongue exploring your mouth attentively, one hand still on your face while the other finds your thigh.
Her hands are calloused and controlled against your skin, her glasses bump your face as you kiss her. Her lips are soft.
You let your hands wander too, dancing under her black t-shirt and gripping her waist. You can feel her abs, toned from her athletic lifestyle. You can only imagine the things you could do with her abs alone.
Her hand leaves your thigh and meets yours under her shirt, gripping your wrist she guides you to her sports bra, letting you get under it and feel her breasts.
She sighs into your mouth when you lightly pinch her nipples, her usually confident voice now almost needy.
Paige’s kisses trail down to your neck, licking and biting into your soft skin. You let your fingers ghost against her until they reach the waistband of her sweatshorts.
“Can I?” You whisper, eager to feel her.
“Fuck, yes.” She murmurs against you, sucking beautifully painted hickeys from your neck to your collarbone.
When your fingers rub her through her boxers you can hear her breathing change, and it’s doing things to you. Rubbing slow circles on her clit, you feel yourself getting wet.
“You let every girl down your pants, Paige?” You mumble. She stares up at you, eyes wide and bloodshot.
You relish in the way she bites her lip when your pace quickens, you can feel her slick through the boxer briefs and you can’t help but tease her. “So wet already…”
Finally you let your hand slip into her briefs, finding her entrance and teasing around her hole. Her hips jerk upwards, giving you room to move, offering herself to you. “Stop talking.” She grumbles, cheeks pink with embarrassment.
You connect with her lips again as your fingers finally dip inside of her, causing her to let a soft moan out. You realize suddenly that anyone inside the house could come outside and see you two, but with all the weed and alcohol you couldn’t care less, you couldn’t stop now, not when Paige was grinding against your fingers and letting out sweet whimpers into your mouth, her hands feeling you all over.
Breaking the kiss is the best decision you make, because you can actually see her. Her face is perfect, hair falling out of her bun, glasses sliding down her nose, her expression a sexy, needy pout, her tongue darting out to lick her lips.
You pick up the pace, pumping your fingers in and out of her and grinning as her whimpers get a little louder. The noise of her slick, her voice, the crickets outside and the muffled music is almost magical to you. Her blue eyes shining and glossy from the weed and the reflection of the water.
“Fuck.” She murmurs, covering her mouth. “Oh, fuck.”
Her hips are violently bucking now as you curl your fingers inside of her and use your thumb to apply pressure to her clit. Her eyes are screwed shut now, and you can tell she’s close.
“Gonna cum for me Paige? Cmon baby, let it out.”
She calls out your name, legs open and pussy throbbing against your fingers. Finally she loosens around you, reaching her orgasm.
She’s still clinging to your body and catching her breath when you pull your hand out from her shorts, licking your fingers like you’ve just finished a meal. Paige’s eyes are trained on your lips wrapped around the same digits that were just inside of her.
You just smile at her staring. “You good?” You ask her. She just chuckles and takes off her shirt. “I’m good. Might needa cool down though.” Paige eyes you as she slips into the pool.
You laugh and take your shirt off too, slipping into the cold water with her.
It’s a good night, filling your lungs with her, breathing Paige in.
#fanfic#fanfiction#paige bueckers#paige bueckers smut#uconn wbb#smut#paige buckets#paige bueckers x reader#paige x reader#Paige Bueckers x reader smut#rpf#Spotify
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kate martin x girly reader and readers pet name for kate is “bear” because she’s so big and cuddly and reader calls kate “bear” in front of her teammates after kates game and they all tease her for it
Bear . KM
pairing: kate martin x reader
synopsis: your little nickname for kate has quite the impression on the team
༶•┈┈୨♡୧┈┈•༶
you don’t really know when it started, but it just stuck. the idea to call kate “bear” conjured in your mind one evening, when you were laid atop kate’s chest with her strong arms wrapped around you. she towered over you in height by quite a lot and was the biggest, cuddliest, clingiest girlfriend to ever exist so what better pet name than “bear”?
“love you, bear” you had mumbled one night, yawning and drowsy. you offered her a toothy grin while your eyes fought to stay open.
you and kate had just gotten home from a night out, only leaving as early as you did because you were absolutely exhausted and about to fall asleep in the booth. your girlfriend had so graciously helped you back to your shared apartment where she dressed you into your pajamas and tucked you into bed.
“bear?” she questioned, climbing into bed next to you, letting your head fall onto her shoulder.
“mmm yea” you giggled, definitely almost sleep by now “you’re like my big strong cuddly bear, i jus’ love you s’much”
she chuckled to herself, finally hearing your gentle snores. kate thought it was sweet how you had come up with the pet name, loved that you were thinking of her. so she encouraged it, obsessed with the way it had sounded coming from your lips.
the buzzer had sounded, declaring the end of a wonderful game for iowa. the girls had won by a landslide against the other team. you had watched from the sidelines, like you always did, cheering the entire night as your girlfriend kicked ass.
when the teams post-game celebrations died down, family and friends crowded the arena floor. you followed suit as you pushed past groups of people to try and find kate. she was across the floor, glowing with excitement and talking to the team.
you bolted over towards her, calling out her name to grab her attention. she turned with the biggest smile on her face to see you approaching her. seeing you after a big win was one of her favorite feelings.
she let out a soft ‘hmph’ as you jumped into her, arms wrapping around her neck, kate’s large hands finding the small of your back. her nose nudged against your neck as she hugged you deeply.
“you did so good, bear!” you praised, pulling away from the hug to kiss her cheek “i’m so proud of you!”
“thanks baby” she said, holding your waist to keep you at her side.
“bear, huh?” caitlin teased “is that what we’re calling you now?”
the team laughed, making harmless jokes about the nickname you had for kate.
“shut up” kate chuckled back “that name is reserved for YN and YN only”
you felt a faint heat form on your cheeks, turning them a shade of scarlet. the jokes didn’t bother you at all, but you really did enjoy how she was quick to take full possession of the name.
“what about teddy? teddy bear? can we call you that?” gabbie chimed in “our big ol’ teddy bear!”
“whatever, you wish!” kate responded, shoving her playfully.
after a bit more teasing she finally started saying her farewells for the night “hey, i think we’re gonna head out, but i’ll see you guys tomorrow”
they all nodded, hugging her before she dragged you off the arena floor. you congratulated her again as you made your way to the car to drive home, making sure she knew how proud you are of her.
the apartment was quiet when you arrived home. kate dropped her things at the door before hopping into a hot shower before bed. you, even though she practically pleaded for you to join her, opted for getting cozy in bed. you listened to the flow of the water stop, listened to her follow her nightly routine to a “t” as you scrolled on your phone. when she finally emerged from the bathroom, hot steam trailing behind her, you were still awake.
“still up?” kate asked, already under the covers.
“can’t fall asleep without you, bear” you smiled. she looked down at you, biting her lip when she heard it. she would listen to you calling her bear on repeat if she could.
“i love you so much, y’know that?”
“always,” you replied “i love you so much more”
#kate martin#kate martin x reader#wcbb#wcbb x reader#wlw imagine#iowa wbb#iowa hawkeyes#foreingersgod
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hi!! ngl i’ve never actually requested anything so im kinda nervous to do so but if it’s possible, do you think you could write something along the lines of eddie munson with like an anxious reader? maybe she has a panic attack and he’s there to help in the aftermath or just an overall anxious person. i know you’ve written something similar with the marauders so i hope that this is okay for me to request. i love love love ur writing!
Thank you for requesting lovely <3
cw: aftermath of panic attack
Eddie Munson x fem!reader ♡ 642 words
Eddie’s rambling hasn’t stopped since you sat down, but it’s become background noise for you, like ocean sounds or the music they play in grocery stores. You know well enough how to get yourself through this. His hand on your back is a steady, if somewhat frantic, reassurance.
“You okay?” Eddie asks, his rhythm slowing as you blow out a lungful of air, bending your head towards your knees. You hold up a weak thumbs-up, and it picks up again. “Shit, yeah, you’re okay, baby. You’ve got it.”
You feel bad that this is Eddie’s first time dealing with you like this, though it’s nice to be in his trailer and not at the mall or in a restaurant or something. His couch is familiarly uncomfortable, lumpy in places and nearly flat in others, and the air smells like weed and grease, the electric fan Wayne brings out for the summer months whirring diligently in the corner. You’re glad Wayne’s not home now, though someone should probably be around to comfort Eddie after he’s done comforting you.
“Anything I can do to help?” he asks again. “You want some water or something?”
This time, you nod. Your boyfriend all but springs up from the couch, grabbing a bottle of water from the fridge and hustling it back to you like he’s training to be one of the NASCAR pit stop people. You take it from him, rubbing the condensation from the bottle on the back of your neck before taking a sip. The chill is grounding. You rest your head back on your knees.
“You feeling better, sweetheart?” Eddie grabs another water bottle from the fridge once he sees what you did with the first, holding it to your neck. “You seem better. Sounding less like Darth Vader.”
You laugh a little, and he laughs back nervously.
“Yeah,” you say, “it’s mostly better now.”
He blows out a breath. “Phew, okay. Jesus. You’re a fucking champ, you know that?”
“Thanks,” you chuckle. “Sorry I put you through that.”
“I’m pretty sure I’m not the one who went through something just now, so consider your apology heard and nullified.” Eddie’s lips come down on the back of your head. “I’d tell you where to shove it, but I’m feeling kind of bad for you right now. Count your blessings.”
“Oh, I’m counting them.” You smile down into the semi-dark valley between your legs and chest, taking one more deep breath in and out before lifting your head. “Okay, I’m good.”
“Yeah?” As he pulls back to see you, your boyfriend doesn’t look so sure. His eyebrows are pulled up in the middle, freakishly huge eyes full of freakishly sweet worry. “Good enough for a hug?”
You hum your assent, and in the next second you’re in his lap. Eddie goes all the way, curving his body over yours as his arms wrap protectively around your back and his cheek squishes into yours.
“It scares me when you’re scared,” he admits.
“Sorry.”
“No—goddamnit, what did we say about that? You’re lucky you’re cute, I swear—don’t be sorry. Obviously it’s not your fault, I’m just sorry that happened to you. It seemed really fucking shitty.”
“It felt really fucking shitty,” you agree. “I’m wiped.”
“Honestly? Me too.” Eddie chuckles. “Nap?”
“Yes, please,” you say, but wriggle closer to him, preventing him from getting up. Eddie doesn’t seem to mind. He starts rubbing your back again, contemplative.
“You wanna sleep here, or on the bed?”
“Bed,” you answer immediately.
“...right. But are you gonna get up and go to the bed?”
You make a thoughtful humming sound, grasping him tighter. “Probably not. Maybe you could carry me?”
A sigh, long and dramatic. “Yeah, maybe I could.” Eddie’s hands move to grip you more securely, and he grunts as he stands. “You’re seriously lucky you’re cute, trouble.”
#eddie munson#eddie munson x reader#eddie munson x fem!reader#eddie munson x y/n#eddie munson x you#eddie munson x self insert#eddie munson fanfiction#eddie munson fanfic#eddie munson fic#eddie munson hurt/comfort#eddie munson fluff#eddie munson imagine#eddie munson scenario#eddie munson drabble#eddie munson blurb#eddie munson oneshot#eddie munson one shot#tw panic attack#stranger things#stranger things fanfiction#stranger things fanfic#stranger things fic#stranger things 4#stranger things x reader
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Okay, that's great and all, but—
↪ Aventurine x Reader｜Fluff
➢ headcanon：gossip buddies; friends -> lovers
➢ fic part：Aventurine, from some rumors that you're dating each other, realizes that he likes you, and he tries his best to confess (and succeeds, but also fails).
imagine if you and Aventurine worked similar jobs, you guys work in the same place, but both of you love gossip, and because you're in the same building half the time and know all of the people, you guys have access to vigorous, and I mean vigorous amounts of tea (i.e., gossip). So, every Friday night, you dedicate a time and place to meet up at and start spilling all of the tea you've both gathered!
—
Echoes of mindless chatter and heavy laughter filled the room. Tonight, you went out with Aventurine for your typical gossip night. Every so often, you'd bring a friend or two along if the gossip involved them, but tonight, it was just you and him. You dressed up quite nicely for the hangout, and though you're not out on a date, you sat in front of him, and he sat in front of you—and both of you were particularly well-dressed. A smile rested on your face, as did one for him, and you were both ready to spill every ounce of tea you've gathered.
—
Sometimes, either you or Aventurine would have to miss a Friday for work (but you typically missed some days for family or friends, and you've wondered why he hasn't ever mentioned neither friends nor family on his side, but you dare not pry), but that just meant either more tea would build up, or tea would be lost. Typically, it'd be the former, but every so often, the gossip of one thing would begin to die down, and after so long, it becomes old and boring. To prevent that, you'd usually just text Aventurine when you know he's available.
—
Emma did it— she finally caved in and admitted what happened. This is grand news, and calls for an even grander retelling, not to mention the fact that you and Aventurine have been on this topic for a while! This is the hottest stuff in the workplace right now, but Aventurine told you that he wasn't available this coming Friday. Crud, but this is the best stuff for you and him right now, so you'd might as well text him!
you：rine!! RINE YOU WON'T BELIEVE WHAT JUST HAPPENED
aventurine：if it isn't my dearest gossip spiller, what's up?
you：yk Emma, right? ofc you do, she's the Emma we've been on about for a whole month. She was apparently cornered by Joshua, Noah, and even that one doofus who spat on your shirt last week!
aventurine：No way. Did she spill everything that happened, or did she lie?
you：She. Spilled. Everything. Her face turned so red when she saw their reactions to what she did. I mean, I felt a little bad, but after everything she's done? Deserved. Here, her sister sent me a photo.
you sent an attachment. December 19th, 14:27, XX23.
aventurine：the look on her face is priceless, and yk what? Let's meet up tomorrow during lunch, we literally have to talk about this
you：wait, but tomorrow's Wednesday, I thought you'd be packing for Thursday?
aventurine：;)
aventurine：not anymore!
—
Still, even when you guys carry all of the good gossip, some rumors still revolve around you both— albeit the fact that his rumors are more brutal than yours, people still enjoy talking about you two. One of the main topics about you two is your relationship. You see him as your friend, and the same goes for him, but people seem to find themselves entertaining the thought of you and him dating. Actually, about a week or so after Emma was caught, she and her new boyfriend, Harvey, went on a date on your weekly Friday gossip night at the same time, and in the same place. She caught you and Aventurine sitting across from one another in fancy clothing, laughing and smiling all around— it might've been the first time that she's seen him genuinely smile, but she carried a huge smug face, snapped a photo, and quickly let that photo sink into every mind who saw that photo. She exaggerated it, edited it, and made up all of these strange, unnecessary things and details to leave people in awe— even Topaz was confused. Were you and Aventurine... actually dating? She thought it was just some rumor, but now she just had to ask.
Perhaps Aventurine had one glass too much of SoulGlad? He felt just a little lightheaded, but he didn't want to interrupt or leave you in the middle of the conversation. You were leaving for vacation in a few days, apparently visiting Penacony for a while, and he knew he'd miss you (as much as he refuses to admit it, you might be one of his only few friends outside of everything work-related), so he let you go on, and he let himself drown out all of the noise to listen to you speak. Although these nights would usually be full of gossip, you weren't talking about anything in particular right now, just going on about how rough this week was and how excited you are for Penacony. He can't really understand everything, but he likes your voice. It's the voice of not only a colleague— but the voice of a friend. He likes to linger on that word, “friend.”
“Hey, Aventurine?”
“Huh, yeah? Don’ worry, I'm listening.”
He watches your eyes flicker from him and to your phone. Hesitant, you show him the image that was taken a few minutes ago, as well as the series of messages you've received as a result.
“Emma took a photo of us, and she's telling everyone that we're on a date. Apparently, she even claimed that you proposed to me?”
Aventurine doesn't say anything, but he takes your phone and looks at the photo that Emma took. It's high-quality, focused primarily on you two, but you're facing more towards the camera, and he isn't. You're smiling. Your hair's a little disheveled from constant movement, but you're still so—
“Jeez, even Topaz got a hold of the photo.” You steal Aventurine from his trance and signal for him to look at his phone. Jade and Topaz began bombing his phone, Topaz more than Jade.
“Aeons, I didn't expect us to become such a hot topic.” He jokes, rolling his eyes as he begins replying to every text message he receives.
“I didn't expect this mind of an audience waiting for some announcement about us. Everyone's saying stuff like ‘omg, I knew it!’ or even ‘I had a feeling this day would come!’ and, well, I'd hate to break it to you guys, but we're not dating!”
But we could be. I mean, it's what the audience wants. They've been giving us what we wanted, so why not do them a favor?
Maybe it's the SoulGlad. Maybe it's the sheer, bitter need for companionship that's been bugging him like this, but Aventurine has absolutely no idea as to why he's thinking these kinds of thoughts.
He closes his eyes and listens to you speak again.
Maybe another SoulGlad wouldn't hurt. Maybe if he drank another one, he wouldn't need to push this feeling away.
Maybe if I have one more SoulGlad, I could voice these thoughts.
.
.
It's the New Year. Tomorrow, you'll be leaving for Penacony, and he'll go two Fridays without you. The thing is, you're not replaceable. He wanted everyone at arms length, but you've broken past that point, and you leaving will also leave behind this void of loneliness that he just can't fill.
And, no, he didn't actually voice his thoughts out. He was going to, on multiple occasions, but he didn't.
Except, he really, really wanted to.
Right now, you're on the phone with him as he sits on his luxurious bed, still in pajamas. You're talking about another person and his girlfriend, Jamie, and how they make for a horrible, loveless couple because of the things they've done to each other, to others, and for themselves. The topic as a whole was interesting, really, but he had a whole other conversation in mind.
This is a horrible thing to confess before you leave. But, to Aventurine, it's a gamble worth its risks.
“Hey, by the way,” he catches you right when you fall silent to think of your next point, “about those rumors about us being a couple... How did you react to them?”
“Huh?” You scratch your neck, pondering. “Well, I mean, I just know it myself that we are, in fact, not dating, so if anyone were to ask about it, I'd just debunk the rumors.”
Ouch. You really see him as a friend, huh?
Aventurine shakes his head. This won't do— he can't overthink now.
“In that case, let me propose an... Idea to you.”
“Oh?”
He feels his left hand shake at his lap. Then, he notices the trembling of his right hand. He's nervous— no, he's terrified.
“U– Uhm, well...” He pauses. The words lump in his throat, and he chokes on his own doubts.
“Rine, don't be nervous. You've got this, I don't care how embarrassing or stupid this idea could be.” Your voice rings through his mind, and he's nervous from the sound of it. A blush creeps into his cheeks. It's all or nothing; he's already brought it up, and he won't be able to take it away now.
“...Instead of—” he pauses, forcing the stutters back and behind his teeth, seething at the obvious awkwardness of his voice, “instead of debunking these claims, why not...”
“...why not accept them?” He mutters. Damn it! Why not accept them? No! It's ‘why not give the audience what they want?’
“Oh, don't worry, Rine. I've gotcha there, I'm fine with the rumors. They just keep asking me!” And you chuckle, letting out a few snickers and snorts beforehand. He can't back down now. He doesn't care about the rumors. Those people can gossip all they want—he just wants you to know that he likes you!
“Anyways, I've got the feel that you didn't say what you wanted to. Unless you did, but if not? Text me, 'kay? Talk to you later, Rine!”
What?
Beep.
You hung up, accepting another phone call. He doesn't know that. He's still processing— did you just hang up, or?
Oh! Aeons! A phone call!
He doesn't even try to look at the number or the contact.
“Hey, Aventurine, Topaz here, I just wanted to confirm—”
“What I wanted to say was that I'm really sure that I like you!” Aventurine rushes the words out, not registering the voice on the other line, and not realizing that this was the phone in that one big room in his department that's been bugging out and may or may not be a little too loud for anyone's liking.
“...What?”
“I said that I like you. That came out sudden, but I know you're going to Penacony tomorrow, and I know that— wait, who is this? ”
“Aventurine... This is Topaz.”
And he became the hottest news of the workplace.
—
“Gosh, Aventurine, I didn't know you liked Topaz!” You snorted in the phone, laughing your ass off like never before.
“I'm telling you! It was. A. Mistake! I meant to call y— I meant to call someone else!” He groans into his hands. Aventurine is on the floor against his bed, his knees on the ground, and he's screaming into the mattress.
“Sorry, what was that? Y– You meant to call me?”
“Yes! I wanted to call you and tell you that— wait, wait, hold on, I—”
“You like me back??”
#aventurine x reader#character x reader#hsr x reader#hsr x you#honkai star rail x reader#honkai star rail x you#hsr aventurine#aventurine fic#hsr aventurine x reader#aventurine x you
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Can we get a toxic!babydaddy Matt fic like I’m craving something about my man like it’s been days and I haven’t eaten
⭒ blurb : toxic!bd matt who . . .
toxic!babydaddy matt x poc!reader
warnings: toxic relationship, dad!matt (i understand if u don’t fw it), idk what else :P
mickey speaks: this is kinda different for me so ty for the req!! ik this is just a little headcannon set but i hope you luv this anon 💐
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TOXIC!BABYDADDY MATT WHO . . . brings some girl he’s been “hanging out with” to your daughter’s third birthday party just to piss you off
he’d then get mad when you ignore him and his “friend” the entire party…
he’d come up to you as you watch your daughter play on the decorated playground from afar, “the fuck you bein’ petty for, y/n? i thought we were cool with seeing other people?”
“well i just think it’s rude, you didn’t tell me you were bringing anyone else. i don’t care who she is or what you two do it’s annoying from a planning perspective.”
“that’s my bad… you look good though,” he’d glance around for a second before coming behind you and hooking his arm on your neck.
he’d whisper in your ear while you both stare out at your lively daughter, “can’t believe she’s so big now… lookin’ just like her pretty mama.”
you’d roll your eyes and shoulder matt off of you, “matt, go fuck on the bitch you brought here. and stop saying shit like that to me.”
“jesus- watch your language there’s kids everywhere, y/n.”
you blankly stare at him and his cocky smirk that just aggravates you to pieces, “go awayyy, matt.” you whine out and pinch your eyes with a sigh.
and he laughs because everything’s a fucking joke to him.
TOXIC!BABYDADDY MATT WHO . . . your friends hate but you will always have a soft spot for, he is your daughter’s father after all
TOXIC!BABYDADDY MATT WHO . . . sends hundreds of roses to your doorstep for mother’s day
when you text him a picture of the ridiculous bouquets with a “????” he immediately facetimes you, “for the best mama in the whole world. you like ‘em?”
you shake your head and hide a smirk beneath your hand to scold him, “you do too much, matt.”
“uh huh i knew you’d say that…” he’d then ask to see his favorite girl, “now where’s my baby at?”
TOXIC!BABYDADDY MATT WHO . . . can’t mind his business to save his life. he’s always asking you questions about your personal life; and you always shut him down
TOXIC!BABYDADDY MATT WHO . . . can sometimes be a little too desirable when he drops your daughter off at your place (dressed nicely, smelling good, eyes bright yet droopingly eye-fucking you, etc), leading you to invite him in for a glass of wine or two
TOXIC!BABYDADDY MATT WHO . . . you sometimes find in your bed again when you feel particularly lonely and nostalgic
TOXIC!BABYDADDY MATT WHO . . . loves the few times he gets to to wake up to his daughter pulling on his hand and you by his side, fast asleep
TOXIC!BABYDADDY MATT WHO . . . tends to start arguments from the smallest things to get you to talk to him longer than you need to
TOXIC!BABYDADDY MATT WHO . . . will always put effort into being a great father (which you respect) despite never putting that same effort into your relationship
TOXIC!BABYDADDY MATT WHO . . . makes sure you’ll never forget he loved you first and is connected to you far deeper than any other man ever could be
#sturniolo triplets#matt sturniolo#matt sturniolo fanfic#sturniolo triplets fan fiction#matt sturniolo smut#chris sturniolo#christopher sturniolo#nick sturniolo#sturniolo triplets smut#chris sturniolo fanfic#matt sturniolo x black!reader#matthew sturniolo x reader#matt sturniolo x you#matt sturniolo fluff#matt sturniolo imagine#matt sturniolo x reader#matthew sturniolo#matthew sturniolo fanfic#matthew sturniolo x you#dad!matt
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tell me if you like it — RAFE CAMERON
authors note HIGHLY recommend you listen to me & you by cassie remix because it gives me total rafe vibes. i'm so close to 800 lovies, i adore you all. i switched my style with line dividers and i'm probably gonna stick with it for now on.
summary you've had your eyes on rafe cameron for sometime now and everyone knows your attraction towards him. you attend one of his parties one friday night with your girlfriends and make your official move on the kook king.
warnings drinking, smoking, alcohol, drugs, partying, kissing/making out, mentions of sex,
Rafe Cameron sent out a text about throwing a party at his place while Ward and Rose are out of town for the weekend. The minute word got out people were talking about the party.
You knew the instant after receiving the text that tonight would be the night you made your official move on Rafe Cameron. Everyone, including Cameron, knows you've had your eye on him for a while.
Rafe is waiting for you to make your final move, according to Topper and Kelce. To you, he appears to be playing a game, a waiting game. So you've been playing the game he prefers.
You’ve always wondered why Rafe himself hasn’t made his move on you yet. The thought runs through your mind occasionally.
The party was full when you arrived. People were drunk, smoking weed, doing other drugs, dancing, and who knows what else.
You came in with your head held high, scanning the crowd for your friend group, but first you needed a drink.
You walked into the kitchen, which was stocked with various types of alcohol. You are craving seltzer, so you grabbed a truly from the fridge. You went on a search for your friends after closing the frigid.
Your name was called from the corner of the house by the girls. When you saw them wave you over, you turned in their direction. When they saw you approaching, their mouths dropped open.
"I must say Y/N, you look so hot!" Ella, one of your best friends, says she's hyping you up by gazing at you up and down.
"If Rafe doesn't get you tonight, he's definitely going to miss out," Melina says, resting against the wall.
The other girls agreed with Melina and Ella's comments.
"You two are really kind. Plus, y'all look so good I might melt" you compliment them back.
"I'll be making my final move on him; I just need to find him first," you say with a nice smile, gazing over your shoulder for Cameron boy.
"Dude we saw him earlier walking out back to smoke a blunt with Kelce but haven't seen him since" Ella informs you.
Thirty minutes go by, you four are dancing together to the beat of the music. Laughing and drinking together while listening to music that keeps you dancing.
For the past five minutes you can feel eyes on you the entire time you’ve been dancing with the girls. You lift your head up slowly, Rafe is standing with a group of his friends.
You’ve been waiting so long, I’m here to answer your call.
I know that I shouldn’t have had you waiting at all.
You two lock eyes. No one is breaking it.
He's dressed in a white tee, black cargo pants, a gold chain around his neck, and a snapback. Oh, that gold chain.
As you continue to dance to the beat of the song, tension builds in your body. Knowing Rafe is watching gives you excitement. You look over your shoulder, he's looking at you amongst the crowd of people.
You tell the girls as you pull away you are gonna have a little chat with Rafe for a moment but knowing that will be a for a while.
When Rafe sees you getting closer, he feels his body tense up. More so with excitement.
“Hey Rafe,” you smiled nicely, giving him a hug, running your hand down his arm.
He wraps his arm around you, “hey Y/N” Rafe says, looking down at you softly, “How are you enjoying the party?” He asks before taking a sip of his drink in his free hand.
“Yeah, I am. My friends and I have been having a great time” You say, trying to play it off you are about to make your final move.
Throughout the conversation, you keep eye contact, something you've always done with people. Conversation was casual yet with a hint of flirtatious moments.
Rafe's body communicates that he is attempting to maintain his calm. You tilt your head slightly, a smile spreading across your face.
"If you girls need anything I'll be around the house," he lets you know, moving his hand in a circling motion.
Your thinking tells you to say something that will catch him off guard.
Slowly nodding, stepping on your tiptoes, placing your free hand around Rafe's neck and dragging him to your height, "What if I need something from you?" Your voice sounded enticing, as you pull away.
Your gaze lands on the gold chain. Playing with it, twisting it with your index finger.
Rafe's lip slides against his bottom lip, forming into a smirk. He knows what you are doing to him. He likes it.
I know I shouldn't have you waiting at all.
I've been so busy, but I've been thinking about you.
What I wanna do to you.
"Oh really, what would that be? enlighten me,"
Oh he's really good you think to yourself.
"I think you know what I mean, Rafe."
"I don't think I do, Y/N," mocking your tone.
In your mind, you want to go and see what he does, or you want to stay by his side for the rest of the night and sleep in his sheets. It can go either way, but you'll most likely be in his sheets, or not.
You finally inform Rafe that you'll be getting back to your girlfriends, who are waiting for you someplace in the home. The look on his face indicated that he did not want you to leave him.
He leans nearer and places his hand on your wrist, "No, don't leave right now. Can I give you a tour of the the house?" He suggested.
You give him a questionable look as if you were debating it.
"Vip access for special people,"
Jack pot.
"I would love that."
The rest of the night, you stayed at Rafe's side. You had him hooked around your finger and it only took you a few words out your mouth. The expressions on your girls' faces were wonderful; they were secretly cheering you on across the room. Of course, they kept a close eye on you while enjoying themselves.
When Rafe took you around the house, he made sure you had the best tour of your life. You could not believe how large the house was. He showed you his room last, which was maintained clean and tidy. His tv is on the wall below his dresser. The smell of cologne flooded your lungs and smelled pleasant.
After, you two took a few shots, smoked a joint, played drinking games, danced, and made out.
You now have your back against Rafe's chest, and his hand is around your waist, holding you close. You'll occasionally move your hips to the side to the beat of the song, causing him to pull you closer.
Everyone has taken to the dance floor in the huge living room. You both circle all of Rafe's buddies. You've met them many times before. Your girlfriends were a few feet away.
Rafe's hand was gliding itself up and down your waist then your ass giving it a couple squeezes.
You turn around and place both hands on his lower the abdomen. You looked at each other with lust and desperation. You examine his lips first, contemplating whether you should kiss him first. You do.
Lips moved in sync. Tongues fighting for dominance. The feeling felt electric. Your body was craving him more and more.
"I think it's time I gave me another good tour, but this time in my bedroom," he breathlessly mumble in your ear, eager.
You groan from his words, nodding.
The way he spoke those words to you made you feel like you were on cloud nine. Excitement in your lower stomach started jumping.
Before you head upstairs, Rafe wraps his arm around Topper's shoulder, whispers in his ear, "Make sure you get these people out of here in an hour, then you can either stay here or go home." Topper nods and pats his shoulder.
You couldn't take your hands off each other on the way up to his bedroom; laughing, touching, and kissing.
"You look so beautiful tonight, couldn't take my eyes off you," he says as he lays you on his soft sheets, runs his hands down your sides, and admires your physique.
The words coming out Rafe's mouth made your cheeks grow red. You watch Rafe's eyes scan your body before he grabs the hem of your shirt, pulling it over your body.
You feel yourself grow impatient, Rafe senses it, he smirks.
"Don't worry, angel, we're just getting started," he said, dropping his head, kissing your stomach, and moving closer to your underwear line.
Your hands slide through his hair, gently pulling, eliciting a gasp from Rafe's lips. You smirk at yourself.
Pulls your skirt down and throws your underwear across the room before bringing itching closer to your core. Chills run down your spine, and you breathe heavily as Rafe's breath fans on your bare core.
The sexual tension grows stronger. Rest of your night consisted of the both of your moans filling the bedroom.
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#rafe cameron#rafe cameron imagine#rafe cameron fanfic#rafe cameron x reader#rafe cameron x kook!reader#rafe cameron x female reader#rafe cameron x you#rafe cameron imagines#rafe cameron one shot#rafe cameron fluff#rafe cameron blurb#rafe cameron smut#rafe cameron x y/n#outerbanks rafe#rafe outer banks#drew starkey#drew starkey imagine#drew starkey x reader#drew starkey x you#drew starkey blurb#drew starkey fanfiction#drew starkey/rafe cameron 🍒
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❝ 𝐚𝐧𝐲 𝐝𝐚𝐲, 𝐝𝐚𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐧'. ❞ | boothill.
boothill x fem!reader.
𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: you and boothill meet in a bar, and have a very nice chat (aka, you flirt like mad).
𝐜𝐰: SFW!! no use of y/n, alcohol consumption (it's a bar come on now), bar banter/flirting. (pathetic attempts at) funny haha humour, and ermm well inspired by old 1950s western films (my dad adores john wayne i cannot escape them HELP), but like in the hsr universe yk. this one was meant to be funny because i had a BALL playing around with boothill's CANONICAL censor oh my god i love him. imagine calling him a fucktard and the only thing he can clap back w is "you son of a biscuit-eating bulldog" (what the french toast?) or something idk. can he say that? or can he only say nice things—anyways enough rambling 😔
𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞: (continuation from above basically) this man i tell you. i can't sleep. can't eat. he plagues me. day in and day out. i do not have the funds to pull for him. how dare he look at me with that sexy smirk? ain't got no money pal sorry. anyways here's a lil thing i wrote in honour of this man making my chronic fatigue worse <3 NOT PROOF READ. it is currently 12:44am as im posting this so there will be MANY typos haha im going to sleep now.
masterlist.
"You look like you should be in a saloon."
The gun-slinging Galaxy Ranger glanced up at the woman who just took a seat beside him from beneath the brim of his hat, drawn from his thoughts. She had taken a seat that was a respectable distance from him, two bar stools down, the message clear that she wasn't here to chat him up and lead him off to somewhere secluded and have some 'fun', but was only here for small talk and a drink. Good thing she wasn't coming onto him, too. Saved him having to turn down yet another woman looking for a fleeting one night stand.
He went back to absentmindedly swirling the malt juice around in his glass. Car oil, basically. He let out a small chuckle. "Ain't the first time I heard that one."
"Yeah? Makes sense. Fit's cool, though." She nodded to his cropped jacket, his spurred boots, his pants with their sides unzipped. She didn't seem to be bothered by the sight of his belt lined with ammo and a holstered gun. "What's that your drinking? Looks like engine oil."
"Malt juice," Boothill humoured her. "Can't drink nothin' else. Perks o' bein' a machine."
"Machine?" The woman lifted a brow, taking a sip of her beer. "Ah, gotcha. You're a robot?"
"Cyborg, yeah." It didn't matter if he divulged in her what he usually wouldn't. It was just tedious small talk, a nice weight off his mind, and he wouldn't ever see her again, anyway. "Got its pros and cons."
"I see." He was starting to become rather surprised at how...nonchalant she was about this. She lifted her beer jug to her lips once more. "So, what do you do for a living? Go around cosplaying as a cowboy?"
"Heh. If ya like, sure." Boothill was getting curious. It was once in a blue moon he came across someone as relaxed as this woman. "Let's say, it's my...signature look. Across the galaxies. Helps people remember me."
"You're starting to sound like a criminal on the run," she laughed lightly, only out of politeness, really. "Considering the people I've come across around here, I wouldn't mind getting you've got a bounty on that pretty head of yours."
"Uh-huh." He swigged the last of his malt juice. "Perceptive of you, sweets. You a local? Frequent?"
"Pretty much." She shot him a glance. "And it seems I was right. Eh, don't worry. I don't care enough about ya to turn you in. How much you wanted for, anyway?"
"A lot." Boothill grinned impishly. "Those IPC cuties keep bumpin' the ‘prize money’ up, if ya like." He made air quotation marks. "Yer'd be set fo' life if ya got yer hands on that money."
"I'm sure I would be." She really didn't seem to care. "If you don't mind me asking, what's your name?"
"Boothill," he answered, inclining his head towards you. "What about you, darlin'?"
You gave him your name, downing the last of your beer, before hailing the bartender over for a refill. "Nice to meet you, Mr Boothill."
"D'aw, shucks, haven't been called 'mister' in a long time!" Boothill flashed a toothy grin, showing off his shark-like teeth. He noticed how you didn't recoil, barely even blinked, at the sight of them. "Makes me wanna buy you a drink, sugar."
"By all means." You're never one to pass such a offer up. "And you like to flirt, too, huh?"
He watched you rummage around in your purse for something. You finally pulled out a compact mirror and checked your appearance in its tiny mirror. He leaned forward, took your free hand, and placed a kiss to the top of it, winking at you from under his cowboy hat's brim. "With such a lovely lady as yourself? How could I not?"
You laughed in a rather unladylike way—you, more or less, gaffawed—before retracting your hand and tipping his hat right down over his eyes, disorienting him. Your cheeks burned. "You're a funny one, Mr Boothill. You sure know how to woo a lady."
He adjusted his hat, huffing, leaning back in his seat. "I wasn't bein' funny. I like ya. I don't just kiss any old woman's hand."
"Got a little crush now, have you?" You raised your beer jug up in his direction as a friendly salute of sorts, grinning. "Cute of you. I like you, too, but I'm not letting you take me home."
"Ain't got one to take ya to." Boothill shrugged, not noticing how your smile suddenly vanished and you were looking at him. "Sons of biscuits made sure I couldn't have one no more, 'cause I wasn't about to let 'em get away with shady things they keep nicely under wraps."
"'Sons of biscuits'...?" You echoed, puzzled. You were also suddenly feeling quite sorry for the man. He was a roamer—a nomad of sorts, never stuck in one place for very long. That, you were instantly able to tell once you first laid eyes on his broad back.
"Someone had a little play around with my Synesthesia Beacon, so now I can't say nothin' mean—I'll try to say honey, honey, ugh. I'm tryna say honey." He tsked in frustration. "See? Can't say it."
"You can't swear?"
"Yep. Very aggravatin' at times. Whenever I wanna yell the s-word in combat, I just say somethin' ridiculous like 'terrific!' or 'groovy!' I sound like a right looney tune."
You chuckled. "I can tell that if you didn't have that censor on, you'd have the mouth of a sewer."
"Heck yeah. I'm goin' to town with all 'em bad words right now in my head," Boothill scoffed. "Love 'em, love 'em, love 'em—see what I mean? Hopeless. Wanna drop the f-bomb real bad."
"Perks of being a cyborg, indeed," you laughed, patting his shoulder. "It's rather funny to see such a tough-looking guy like you run around without anything else to yell but 'unicorns! Cotton candy!' when someone jumps you."
He snorted. "That's about right. Had one cutie pie try to mug me once and I was gonna swear his ear off, but all that came out was "look at this angel!" instead of 'punk', but it's a way more colourful word than that."
"Gotcha." You leaned your elbows against the wooden top of the bar. You opened your mouth to continued, but a sudden commotion at the other side of the bar cut you off. Glancing over also, you and Boothill watched as one drunk mountainous guy versus a scrawny little weasel of a man went tooth and nail at each other.
"How's the skinny one still alive?" Boothill amusedly remarked, leaning his cheek on his fist. "Looks like a cartoon."
"Happens all the time." You watched on rather boredly, almost wincing when the small guy very narrowly missed getting his face flattened by his opponent's massive fist. "Those two baffoons are too drunk to think of anything other than settle this scrap with punches. Makes for a good show, though."
Boothill hummed, before turning back to face you. "Can you fight?"
"Me? Well, I know basic self defence, and when to tell someone's spiked my drink." You pushed the beer jug around on the bar top absentmindedly. "This environment's dangerous for a woman. Gotta look out for myself around here. I should stay away, but I like my alcohol."
He chuckled, gazing at you. "Glad to hear that. You ain't some damsel in distress. You're really somethin', you know that, sugar?"
You blushed at his stare and words. "Oh, get off it. It's something every woman's got to know in life. We shouldn't have to, but we do. It's sad."
"Sure is." He pursed his lips, suddenly grave. He may have been a vagabond in a way, but that didn't mean he didn’t have morals. And then he playfully nudged you. "Ya know, seeing an independent, badass lady like you is real attractive."
You grinned. "Boy, if you were anyone else, I would've slapped you for that. That is an instant red flag for any woman in a bar."
"Well, I'll tell ya right now, I'd never harm a woman unless I had no other choice." Boothill stared at you. "Especially not for my own gain. Hurtin' people ain't fun, even though it's my lifestyle."
You shrugged, trying to ignore his intense gaze and the way your heart rate picked up. "A sad reality, but it's nice to come across a man with manners." You finished off your beer and stood, slinging your handbag strap over your shoulder, giving him a kind smile. "Well, thanks for the talk, Mr Boothill. You're a gem."
He stood after you, the spurs on his boots jingling with the movement, before he took your hand and pressed another smooth kiss to the top of it. Then he winked once more, just as a finishing touch, and your cheeks flared. "Any day, darlin'. Say, how about I give ya my phone number? Have another drink sometime."
"You sure? Your vigilante habits wouldn't get in the way of it?"
He laughed goodnaturedly. "Oho, that's funny, sugar. Nah, I'd always make time for you. Here, hand me ya phone."
So you did, and he swiftly typed in his number, before returning your phone to you. "There ya go. Send me a message so I'll know yours." Then Boothill stooped down to eye level with you, staring at you from beneath his lashes and hat, lifting a hand to ruffle your hair affectionately. "Till we meet again, sweetheart."
With that, and a lingering stare as he strode by, the cyborg cowboy left you stunned, heart pumping, phone limp in your hold. He was gone in a blink, giving you no room to wish him farewell also, so you did it by text.
you forgot to pay the bill for your drink
so I covered it for you.
you owe me one, cowboy
His reply didn't take long, and it made your face burn hotter.
Oopsies 🤭
How about I pay you back by taking you to dinner huh?
His emoji usage made you laugh. And so you accepted his offer.
Alright then
I want steak
Can you even eat?
You liked how he always replied fast.
Nah
But that's fine
Your company's better
Suffice to say, you liked the man's suave manner and flirty compliments. It made you feel exhilarated.
Maybe it was because of his classic cowboy moves. Tipping his hat to you in respectful greeting or goodbye, a gaze much too human for a cyborg, and his smooth gestures that made you hot all over.
Yeah. Maybe it was. But, either way, you couldn't wait to see him again.
© jqnehr 2024. all rights reserved. do not translate, repost/redistribute and plagarise any of my works.
#i saw somewhere that apparently boothill was mostly illiterate?? oh well if he this then that last part was ooc ig#anyways this was so fun to write OMG#boothill honkai star rail#hsr boothill#boothill x reader#boothill x you#boothill#boothill x y/n#boothill hsr#honkai star rail x reader#honkai star rail#boothill x female reader
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❀ not so secret — inumaki toge
synopsis: you and toge were having a secret rendezvous, far away from all the others, or so you both thought
tags: fluff, gn reader
word count: 1.4k
“Look at him… He’s infatuated....”
Maki sighed, rolling her eyes at the scene happening around the corner between you and Toge—that is, if she could even see anything, as Panda was practically blocking her vision.
Just peering from the bushes she and Panda were hiding from, they could see you two—very explicitly, she might mention, holding hands.
She knew something was afoot when Toge grabbed you by the hand the second you finished your dinner and dragged you somewhere, unbeknownst to her. Their curiosity was piqued, only for the two to find you two, alone, sitting together on a bench, enjoying each other's company in the moonlight.
Or so you two thought.
Cue having Maki and Panda staring at you two with wide-eyed eyes and curious spirits. Well, for Panda, anyway.
Now, they were a reasonable distance away—enough to see you two together but not enough to hear a word, and neither could you guys.
Maki squinted her eyes, trying to decipher what exactly was going on between you and Toge through the dense and overgrown foliage that was Panda’s ass.
Your silhouette was barely discernible against all the bushes blocking her view and the dimming twilight in the sky, but the subtle gestures and hushed whispers from both your and Toge’s figures spoke volumes.
Maki leaned in closer, her curiosity piqued despite her initial reluctance. She could not lie. Seeing Toge this intimate with someone was somewhat unexpected, unsettling even. “...Don’t you think that Toge’s demeanour is a lot more, different? We’ve never seen this before from him,” she noted, squinting her eyes at the bench you both were still sitting on, now laughing.
“Shush Maki! We’re getting to the good part!”
Maki sweatdropped at how invested Panda was. At this rate, she may as well think that Panda was also included in your guys’ relationship. “Good part, my ass. The hell are we even stalking them for?”
“For reconnaissance,” Panda replied matter-of-factly.
“Well, yeah. They’re definitely close,” she shrugged begrudgingly, her voice hardly even audible. After all, they were stalking you two from behind the bushes. “But dating? I’m not so sure.”
“What else could it be? Look at the way they’re leaning towards each other like they’re sharing some big secret!” Panda leaned his body forward eagerly, eyes wide with excitement. He appeared to be more invested than Maki was, as if this were all some kind of romance drama in real-time.
But Maki, ever being the voice of reason, remained skeptical, her arms crossed tightly against her chest. “Maybe they’re just friends?” she clicked her tongue sarcastically, still in a whisper. “Ever heard of that? We can’t jump to conclusions based on a few stolen glances.”
But the Panda was undeterred. “I doubt it. I believe that there’s definitely something more. I can feel it in my bones!”
“You’re being delusional.”
“Hello, everyone~!” a voice suddenly interrupted their conversation, startling them into silence.
‘Oh god…’
“It’s your good-looking teacher, Gojo Satoru, here to— What are you both doing, hunched down in the bushes like that? Oh no! Don’t tell me you’re now homeless!”
Maki shot her teacher a withering glare, her patience wearing thin with each passing moment.
“Now, what are you doing here, huh, Satoru?”
“So cruel!” he cried out mockingly, but his trademark arrogance and his shit-eating, mischievous grin were on full display. "I was just thinking of checking in on my favourite students, of course. But it seems like I've stumbled upon something much more interesting."
‘...Ugh.’
That’s it. All hope was lost. A lack of privacy did not exist. Not in Jujutsu Tech, where the most unlikely of people—or animals, for that matter—were always watching.
“Honestly, I didn’t think I’d see them here alone again since the last time,” Gojo hummed.
“They’ve been meeting here in this exact spot for the last four days now,” Maki noted. “You think theres something going on that we don’t know about?”
“Well, of course!” Panda said a matter of factly. “Isn’t it clear that they're dating?”
All eyeballs shifted to the scene where they saw Toge holding your hand close to his face, and you leaned on his shoulder. The intimacy between you two was evident even from a distance from where they were watching.
Toge’s fingers brushed past yours before grabbing them firmly, your fingers intertwining with his. Toge's gaze met yours, and a soft smile graced both your lips. A silent exchange of warmth without an onigiri ingredient was said from Toge in sight.
“Oh shit! They’re getting handsy!” Gojo gasped, seeing this happen first-hand.
“Be quiet,” Maki hissed. “You’re loud-ass is going to get us caught.”
“That's right. We’re just getting to the good part!” Panda added with a playful smirk, thoroughly enjoying the spectacle before them. It was comedic, really.
Maki sighed. There really was no reasoning with those idiots…
Gojo bent over to Maki and Panda. “So, are we just waiting for them to make out?”
A tick mark appeared on Maki and Panda’s faces. ‘This guy…’
Just as they were spying on you two, Panda’s hefty weight, along with the shock of Gojo’s surprise appearance, poured over the scene. But their attempt at stealth was quickly foiled as they toppled over each other like a cascade of dominoes, making a loud noise, something that you two very much picked up on in this seemingly quiet space.
Caught off guard, you and Toge stood up and turned towards the commotion, eyebrows raised in surprise, eyes and ears attuned to the noise that had just come unexpectedly from behind where you once sat.
“What the—”
Maki began to sweat. ‘Just great.’
You and Toge, now standing before the toppled mound of bodies, exchanged a puzzled glance, eyebrows raised in surprise, only to be quickly replaced by amusement at the spectacle unfolding before your eyes.
“Salmon salmon.”
“Huh? Maki, Panda, and— Gojo too!?”
Everyone’s necks turned, only to see you and Toge standing before them, holding hands. You and Toge exchanged knowing glances.
“Ahem…” your eyes flushed in embarrassment, your voice faltering as your hand remained enlaced with Toge’s, glued to the moment. “Did you… see everything?”
Caught red-handed, their faces flushed with embarrassment. Well, Maki, mostly. Panda and Gojo could not give a single damn; they were more interested in the fact that you were there.
Finally, they asked the burning question, "Are you and Toge dating?"
They exchanged looks filled with curiosity and anticipation, making you sweat. Their gazes shifted between you and Toge, practically demanding an answer from either of you, clearly not willing to take no for an answer.
There was silence, right before…
“Huh? Oh, yeah, we are.”
“WHAT?!”
“I was right!” Panda started dancing around.
With a tilt of your head, you turned to face the pale blonde, who blinked at you, all with the innocent expression he always had.
“Toge, I thought you said you were going to tell them?”
“Tuna.”
The boy gave you a sheepish expression, Toge’s small muffles speaking through the layered shirt he always wore. You inhaled deeply and continued to hold his hand, tightening your grip. “Don’t worry. I could never get mad at you, Toge. Like, come on, just look at the expressions on their faces. The poor souls.”
‘Huh…?’
Toge's gaze softened at your words as he nodded in agreement. "Salmon roe.”
His expression said it all. It was one of adoration, to be able to hold your hand and spend time with you, that brought him immeasurable joy in his quiet world. One that the others hardly ever saw in the pale-haired boy let alone a mere smile, all but hidden away under his mask, quite literally.
You couldn't help but chuckle softly at his choice of words. You rubbed at his straightened, pale hair, utterly oblivious to the incredulous stares of Maki, Panda, and Gojo. "Yes, yes, salmon roe," you replied with a wide grin of your own, feeling a warmth spread fruitfully in your chest as if the three were mere background props in your own quirky sitcom.
As for the second years? Well…
‘If this supposed to be romantic…?’ they all sweatdropped.
Heaven forbid the words of onigiri ingredients could ever be considered “romantic.”
“Are we… interrupting something personal here?” Panda neared closer to Maki, whispering in her ear, only to receive a punch right in the gullet.
“So, were we the first to learn about your relationship?” Panda sparkled as if they weren’t just interrupting a moment of yours a moment ago, or even that he was just punched. Having a puppy body has its advantages, perhaps.
“Oh,” you blinked. “No. It was Ijichi, actually, a few days ago.”
“SO YOU BOTH WERE GETTING HANDSY!”
“Not really. He walked into the classroom while me and Toge were in the middle of-”
“I CAN'T BELIEVE IT! YOU TWO REALLY WERE MAKING OUT!”
“That’s not it either…”
©hxnbi. please do not modify, edit, copy or reproduce any of my works.
#jujutsu kaisen#jujutsu kaisen x reader#jjk#jjk x reader#jjk x you#y/n#gn reader#x reader#fanfiction#fanfic#jujutsu kaisen fluff#jjk fluff#jjk drabbles#fluff headcanons#jujutsu kaisen headcanons#jujutsu kaisen comfort#fluff#comfort#scenarios#headcanons#drabbles#inumaki toge#inumaki#inumaki x reader#inumaki toge x reader#inumaki toge x you#inumaki x you
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This is gonna sound very weird but I hope as we go on with the show you won't stop making posts about how much you love Ming's toxic ass cause they make me laugh and I'll need them when in the future I'll feel the urge to somehow strangle Ming through the screen. No pressure but please help a girl in need if you can!
You're writing to the person who is openly praying that Ming gets worse (amen), so I am not one to call others weird.
Something about those who live in a glass house shouldn't throw stones, you know?
Because, once again, I want Ming to be awful to Joe, and only Joe, which I know is kind of weird of me, but I'm just too happy to care.
A few people have commented that Ming will get worse, and I'm giddy from the mere thought of it, so I'll be here all season being unhealthy about Ming's behavior.
Because in the first episode, he was awful, which I LOVED, and I don't think some people really see just how bad he was simply because he is being played by Up, which was a brilliant move by casting, so I love that the show directly told us he is a nightmare, and we could judge all his actions accordingly.
Regardless of Tong's fake personality, Ming just showed up at the set without any warning and ambushed Tong at his job
Ming only wants to eat alone with Tong, and it's of course because he likes Tong, but he even hung up on his sister mid-conversation after she threw him a little welcome back surprise (sidenote: I think he and his sister might be similar personality-wise because her call while Tong was eating with Ming was convenient)
Ming doesn't tell Joe his name or how he got Joe's number
He called Joe drunk and obviously pissed off, then snapped at the staff for being shocked by his behavior
He doesn't tell Joe he thinks of him, but instead reversed Joe's statement to point out that Joe thinks of him
He doesn't compromise
And none of these have to do with sex and Ming wanting to fuck Joe because he looks like Tong because Ming's toxicity isn't just about sex.
This is about how meek Ming is around Tong
Compared to how aggressive he is with Joe.
Pushing Joe down and standing over him, which in the heat of the moment doesn't seem like much.
But Joe took Ming to his house because Ming told him to. Joe doesn't eat instead opting to watch Ming eat. Joe lets Ming spend the night because Ming asked. Joe gets on the bed because Ming tells him to. Joe goes to Ming when called. Joe bottoms because Ming wants him to. Joe does everything Ming wants.
With Tong, Ming can't control anything, but with Joe . . .
Ming's gonna control everything.
Or at least that's what I'm hoping!
So I'll be here all season, cheering every single time Ming does something truly fucked up because he is going about his issues in the worst way by trying to exert dominance on a stand-in of Tong since he is weak for the real Tong until he ends up regretting it once he loses Joe and tries to replace old Joe with new Jo which restarts the vicious cycle that began this entire shit show in the first place! *deep breath*
God, I'm so happy!
#my stand in#my stand in the series#I'm here for Ming's toxicity#please be worse babe#do it for me#it makes me so happy
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Courted by the Dragon
Chapter 15 - Forfeit
Aemond Targaryen is both the cause and witness to the greatest humiliation of your life. You would rather die than see him again. Yet summer at court and the precipice of civil war have other ideas.
Masterlist
~~~
When your mother and sisters break away to join the queen in the wheelhouse, you’re taken to the stable where the horse waiting for you is a chestnut mare with a little white patch between her eyes.
“Flare,” the groom calls her, and she does not look pleased to see you.
In fact, she snorts when you offer her your hand, her foot stamping on the hay, and you think the only thing worse than a long ride to the Kingswood, was to do it on a horse that already hated you.
Still, it wasn’t really the riding you minded so much as the company, Aemond’s company to be precise, though you had not yet seen him.
“Your saddle, my lady,” the groom says, interrupting your thoughts before presenting you with a fine brown side-saddle, its leather work embossed with dragons and ivy.
“I shall be riding astride this morning,” you tell him, deciding there was no way you would ride an untested horse without the complete control of both your legs.
“But this saddle is a gift from the Queen!” The groom retorts, looking completely aghast at your suggestion, his brow knitted and his words curt despite your rank.
A gift? Surely not.
Yet , the brass work is all shiny and new, the leather without cracks or marks to sully the pattern. But the most startling detail, which you’re not quite sure how you’d missed before, is the pommel, where the first letter of your name entwines with a dragon.
For a gift, it’s certainly an extravagant one and hardly fitting for the third daughter of Borros Baratheon.
You’ve never even had your own saddle before and refusal feels so awfully rude you hardly dare to say it, yet, if Alicent wanted you to travel to the Kingswood with the men, then you should be free to ride like one too.
“That may be so,” you say, chin up, defiant , “but I shall be riding astride or not at all.”
And to be perfectly honest, you didn’t want to be riding around on a lavish gift detailed for a Targaryen either.
What would people think?
What was Alicent thinking?
“You heard the Lady,” Aemond’s voice causes you to start as he appears by your side, his presence enough to force the groom to submit to your wishes without another word.
But you don’t thank him, you’re too busy trying not to think about how he’d asked you to marry him the last time you’d spoke. Yet you can think of little else.
“This is the horse they have given you?” he says, his foot easing onto the bottom rung of the fence, his tone enough to confirm your fears.
“Is there something wrong with her?” you ask, a sinking feeling pulling at your stomach.
“Not if you enjoy unruly beasts.”
You meet his eye, and a smile twitches at his lips before he glances over your shoulder.
“Boy ,” he calls to the stable hand hovering in the background, “is there no other horse to saddle for the lady?”
The boy shrugs, his attention darting around nervously before finally admitting, “the queen requested Flare personally , my prince.”
“Hmm ,” Aemond’s jaw tightens, his finger drumming on the fence as the groom returns with a new saddle. This one black with yet more dragons.
“Have my lady saddled on Ōños and I shall ride Flare,” Aemond tells him.
“But -” the groom half protests, neither wanting to disobey his queen or his prince.
“You'd rather my lady was thrown from the horse?” Aemond says, and it's not a question, his tone is sharp, commanding.
Aemond gets what Aemond wants.
“You need not switch horses with me,” you tell him, when the groom scurries away again, thinking you do not wish to have a prince of the realm thrown from a horse on your account.
But he shrugs, unconcerned, “I am the superior rider, so it only makes sense for you to have the easier horse.”
You can’t help but laugh, amused by the utter certainty of the words coming from his mouth and, even if you were quite sure they were true, it was such an arrogant thing to say that you felt compelled to refute it.
“Tell me,” you say, eyes wide, “is there a reason his grace already considers himself superior when he has never even seen me ride?”
“You have seen my dragon, yes ?”
“Briefly , but this is not a dragon, it's a horse.”
His eye slides to Flare then back to you, “I trained on horseback every day of my childhood before acquiring Vhagar then three times a week after that. How often do you ride, my Lady?”
"Six times a week, when I am home,” you answer, with so much confidence you almost believe it. But you would not be bested yet again, and you were certainly no novice since your father, who’d always longed for sons, had insisted on frequent practice.
A fresh smile quivers at Aemond's lips, his brow raised, "is that so? Then perhaps my lady will need to come to my aid when I am struggling to keep up with her?”
You picture Aemond on a wild bucking horse and can’t help but laugh, “I must say, it shall be difficult to aid his grace if I am too busy making fun of him.”
“Oh, I have no doubt in that regard, Lady Baratheon,” he says, seeming to almost enjoy the prospect, before the groom returns with the new horse, all saddled and ready, and certainly not what you expected.
The horse Aemond had ridden at the tourney was a destrier, strong, fierce and entirely black. But this one is smaller, a palfrey perhaps, with a pure white coat and mane, so bright and unblemished, he almost looks as though he cannot be real.
“What did you say his name was?” you ask, words formed with a gasp.
“Ōños.”
“Is that Valyrian?”
“It means ‘Light’,” he answers, his hand pressing to your lower back, guiding you closer, “he was a name day present from my Grandsire when I was a boy.”
“Hello Ōños,” you whisper, stretching your arm to offer him the scent of your hand and he nuzzles into you, allowing you to stroke the spot right between his big dark eyes.
“You’re so beautiful,” you tell him, moving to pet his neck and run your fingers through the wiry bristles of his glossy mane. “And such a good boy...” you add, admiring him more with each pet, “so gentle... so calm...”
“You offer more praise to this horse than you have ever given your prince,” Aemond says and you’re not sure if he’s scolding you or teasing you, as he moves to ensure your saddle is tight around Ōños waist.
“Are there not ladies enough at court who praise his grace?”
“None that matter .”
“Very well ,” you say, clearing your throat as though your heart isn’t fluttering, “I believe my prince has the most wonderful horse.” Then you laugh, petting Ōños again, “or is that just further praise for you, sweet boy?”
Aemond snorts and you look back at him with yet more laughter.
“If my lady offers crumbs, I shall eat them heartily,” he says, extending his hand to help you mount.
“I have no need for assistance,” you decide, thinking you were finding his company unbearable enough without the touch of his hand, as you take the reins and secure your foot in the stirrup.
But Aemond grasps your waist to help you anyway. Easing you up and over, the skirt of your gown rising to the very top of your thigh with the motion, so you feel the coolness of the air as it hits the bare skin above your stocking.
Gods .
You look down, just in time with Aemond, who reaches eagerly for your hem, as though he is a gentleman.
Yet , as he pulls the skirt back down the length of your leg, his progress is marked with the delicate touch of his fingers in a way that cannot possibly be accidental.
Gods. Gods. Gods.
He meets your frozen stare, his eye dark, and you should say something.
Anything !
But your breath is trapped in your chest, and you can only give thought to the almost unbearable rush of tingles which have hurried excitedly to some deep, unreachable place in your core.
Then he smiles, and it's not a wicked smile, its content , satisfied , and you hate it, almost as much as you hate the way he takes hold of Ōños’ bridle, leading you out into the yard as though nothing is amiss.
Yet, what was the alternative? For him to gloat? Or worse, for him to say one of the thoughts which seemed to race behind the look in his eye?
You didn’t want that . What you wanted, was for you to say something. To react. To scold him. To remind him you were a Lady of house Baratheon and not to be treated as such.
With all of this in mind, and the tingles subsided enough for you to breathe, you shift forward in the saddle, so your words can reach him despite your hushed tone.
“Do not imagine you can take such liberties with me again,” you say, and Aemond stops before he turns to look at you, his smile more wicked than you have ever seen it.
“You give me little credit, Lady Baratheon, my imagination is far more creative than that.”
You frown, not quite understanding his meaning, then understanding it all at once and your gasp is quickly followed by a glare.
“If I told my father what you just did, he would have your hand!”
“If you told your father,” he begins, the wicked look on his face turning decidedly smug, “he would give me your hand, and I’m quite willing to test the theory if you are, my lady?”
He's right, of course , and that only adds more fuel to your temper, though in a yard brimming with people, you can only seethe in silence. Looking at anything but the prince as the morning sun beams down so pleasantly you could scream.
Seven Hells!
You’re beyond grateful when the groom arrives with Flare, providing you momentary relief from Aemond’s unwavering attention, as he moves to inspect his own saddle, before mounting her in one smooth motion which she does not take kindly to.
She stomps in protest, and Aemond pulls at her reins, his hand on her neck, his words low and inaudible in the busy yard, as he gets her under control.
“We should leave before everyone else,” he says when she has calmed, reaching for Ōños’ bridle again and pulling him in time with Flare.
“We should wait,” you insist, glancing to where Ser Maurin is talking with some of the other men, none of them yet mounted on horseback.
"And get stuck trudging through the droppings of a dozen horses all morning?”
Your nose crinkles at the idea and, when Aemond smiles, you imagine he’s thinking something along the lines of, ‘that’s what I thought’ , as he continues to lead you towards the open gates.
When you make it as far as the wheelhouse, you peek in through the slatted windows, catching just a glimpse of your sisters talking excitedly with the queen before Aemond releases your bridle and kicks his horse into a trot.
But you don’t follow, you pull on the reins, stopping Ōños since you’re in little doubt that following Aemond will be a mistake.
Yet, you can’t deny the part of you that wants to do it anyway. Because despite what you like to think about yourself, or honour and decorum, there’s a thrill to Aemond’s company that you find irritatingly compelling.
Why was that? You wonder, thinking how safe and easy a ride would be with Tyland Lannister by your side. But he isn’t even invited, you realise now. It’s only your family, Aemond’s family and the guards.
Drawing your hand across the reins, you half-heartedly tell yourself to turn back towards Ser Maurin, where you will be safe from any further improprieties or proposals of marriage, but that’s not what you do.
Perhaps you can blame Ōños, who reacts quickly to even the slightest hint of pressure from your feet. But that would be a lie.
It's your decision to chase Aemond, and Ōños is only too happy to gallop through the yard, as you were sure he’d done countless times before. And it's reckless to ride like this, with so many people in your path, but you seem to have left all common sense in the stable, so why stop now?
You jump a cart filled with apples, overtaking Aemond’s lead, and he was right . You didn’t want to spend the morning trudging behind the wheelhouse. You wanted to fly, and the Kings Road stretches ahead with barely an obstacle in your path.
Ōños, seeming to sense your excitement, picks up speed with little encouragement, dashing through the gates, his hooves pounding the earth so hard you can feel your hair slipping from its pins.
Your horse at Storms End could never run like this , he’s far too old and far too lazy. But Ōños is so powerful he feels unstoppable, yet you must stop, knowing you will quickly leave the procession behind entirely if you keep going.
You tighten your legs, pulling at his reins and he comes to a halt quickly, obediently, turning when you pull the rein again, so you can look back, and see that Aemond’s horse has barely run half the length of yours.
Instead, she’s picking at the brambled hedges which flank part of the path and Aemond is trying desperately to coax her back into his command.
You stifle your laughter, trotting closer.
“Does his grace require my aid so soon?” you tease, more than a little pleased by the look of frustration on his face.
Aemond bites back a grimace, his words laced with exasperation and spoken in High Valyrian as he pulls tightly on the reins. But Flare gives into his insistence at her own pace, taking one last bite of the sun ripened fruits before moving on.
“Perhaps you should ride at the back of the procession after all?” you tease again, noticing the wheelhouse is now ambling its path through the gate.
“Or perhaps I should abandon Flare with a squire, and we can ride pillion as I’m sure my mother intended?”
“Ha ,” you scoff, your eyes narrowing with a dare which should not be coming from your lips, yet you’re feeling so pleased with the situation that it sneaks out anyway, “you’ll have to catch us first.”
Aemond’s eye darkens, his hand snatching to grab your wrist before missing entirely, “is that a promise?”
You don’t answer but you enjoy the adrenaline which pumps in your veins. Yet, why not enjoy it? For once, you’re the one with the upper hand and it feels good, you want to toy with him like he always toys with everyone else.
Unable to contain your smile, you lead Ōños in a circle around Flare, careful to keep just out of reach before you kick him into another gallop which Aemond tries, but fails, to keep up with.
Yet, as always, Aemond is not interested in losing. So, instead of chasing you for miles of road, he turns, heading back to the gold cloaks who are leading the procession before dismounting to switch horses with what looks like Ser Willis.
His new horse is a deep hazelnut brown and much more obedient than Flare, so now the chase is really on, as he seems to fly towards you without any hesitation on the horse's part.
“Come on,” you say excitedly to Ōños, adrenaline still beating in your veins as you kick him into action, charging down the road and leaving Aemond to race through clouds of dust instead of the ones you’re sure he’s more accustomed to.
You keep your lead, all the way to where the road splits into a fork, and you’re forced to slow into a trot, unsure of which route to take.
“Caught you,” Aemond says, grabbing Ōños’ bridle so he can pull you both towards him and you roll your eyes.
“You didn’t catch us,” you tell him, allowing yourself to feel as smug as Aemond usually is, “I stopped.”
“A promise is a promise, Lady Baratheon,” he tries to remind you, your horses turning in a tight circle to keep you together.
“I don’t recall promising you anything .”
His jaw tightens, frustrated, but his eye smiles, “you’ll deny your prince his reward?”
“I’ll deny a cheater ,” you retort, nodding to the horse between his legs, “you were supposed to be riding Flare.”
He releases Ōños’ bridle, a long breath blowing through his nose, “I did not wish to lose.”
“Nor have you won.”
He laughs, his gaze scraping across your lips, “how about a race then? First to the camp shall choose a forfeit for the loser.”
You scoff, feeling a little uneasy at the prospect.
You were already too far ahead of the wheelhouse and feeling quietly certain that there would have been some raised brows at the way you and Aemond had raced ahead of the procession.
Yet, that’s not what you say, or what’s really holding you back, “I do not know the route.”
“It’s only one road from here to camp and Ōños has done it a hundred times.”
You give him a pointed look, “as have you .”
Aemond bites back whatever expression wants to grace his face, “you’re afraid I’ll win? You have the better horse.”
If you refuse him, it would be as good as admitting you thought he was the superior rider after all, and you were not about to do that . “I’m not afraid.”
“Then prove it.”
“Well...” your heart pounds, “what exactly is the forfeit?”
His smile fills his cheeks, his eye looking as blue as the sky behind him.
“When you win, you can tell me,” he says, and you pretend you’re only half considering the bet as you line Ōños up, so it will be a straight shot when you kick him into action.
“See you there! ” you call over your shoulder, racing ahead and unable to contain the burst of laughter which cackles mischievously from your chest.
Now was your chance to best him once and for all and you were not going to squander it, except , Aemond doesn’t follow behind. He jumps the farmers fence, racing his horse through the field and you really should have known better.
In Cyvasse he was always ten steps ahead, so why should this be any different?
Yet, instead of giving up, you only push harder, pressing Ōños to go faster, leaning into every turn as tightly as possible and trying to keep your eyes ahead instead of searching for a dragon. Perhaps that's what he wanted, for you to lose focus, for you to assume his victory. But he wasn’t the only one who enjoyed winning.
You can see the clearing in the distance, see white tents and staff already milling around to ensure everything is prepared for the queen’s arrival. But you can’t see Aemond and that makes you nervous.
You shift your weight forward, almost crouching to gain momentum, just as Aemond’s horse jumps through the trees, landing mere paces ahead of you on the road.
But, while his horse must slow to right itself after such a jump, you and Ōños are only moving faster.
You speed ahead and you can feel him tight on your heels as you make it right into the centre of camp.
“Woah,” you tell Ōños, who seems intent on charging straight through the clearing and beyond, and you're grinning from ear to ear when you circle back to meet the miserable expression on Aemond’s face.
Victory had never felt sweeter, and you intended to gloat.
“You look quite unhappy, your grace,” you say, panting as you try to catch your breath.
Aemond doesn’t reply, and you suspect he is a sore loser of the worst variety, as he kicks his leg over the horse with a frown, before handing the reins to a groom whose probably been standing around since dawn.
“I only wish everyone was here to see how I beat you,” you add, determined to salt the wound but Aemond’s frown is soon smoothed into a reluctant smile.
"Congratulations,” he says, taking your waist and pulling you from the horse so you’re securely in his embrace.
“Though I must admit,” he whispers, still holding you tightly, “I would much prefer my lady to be the one doing the forfeiting.”
You’d forgotten about that part, winning had been pleasure enough alone but a fresh smile brightens your face before you push his arms away.
“Hmm ,” you say teasingly, strolling through the small stretch of camp with Aemond as your shadow, “what's a good forfeit for the most repugnant man in the world?”
He coughs out a laugh, and you already know precisely what his forfeit needs to be, if you are to make it through this picnic with any sense of decorum, but you don’t say it, not yet .
You keep walking, and quickly make your way past the clearing, to where the forest grows beautifully lush and dense, and if you were to choose a picnic spot, it would be this . Not the cover of a tent with servants to bend to your every whim, but here, where the trees tangle with the undergrowth and the only thing you can hear is the unmistakable chorus of the woodland.
“Are you going to tell me or not?” he says, and his impatience makes you want to hold your tongue for as long as possible, but you take small comfort in knowing you’re just about to annoy him.
“Your forfeit,” you say, turning to look at him, “shall be to stay at least 20 paces away from me for the duration of the picnic.”
It might not be very exciting, but it was the only forfeit which made any sense if you didn’t want to spend the entire day wrapped up in his company.
His eye narrows, his head tilting, “and if I don’t?”
You laugh, half amused, half annoyed, "then you shall be obliged to complete an even more humiliating feat!”
Aemond’s jaw ticks, “such as?”
You glance to where the river rolls lazily in the distance and think of all the times he’s mocked you for that day on the beach, “how about a dip in the water, since you like suggesting it so much?”
Aemond snorts, moving closer, “my lady only wishes to punish me when I think she would have found her forfeit very enjoyable indeed.”
Now it's your turn to snort, “if my forfeit was to marry you, then you are mistaken.”
He grins, his eye meeting yours, “I cannot marry you in the Kingswood, but I do find it interesting that you would conjure the idea so readily.”
“I -” you start, your cheeks reddening but he was right. He hadn't said anything about marriage, that was all you .
Seeming to eat up yet another portion of your embarrassment, he unclasps his cloak, letting it fall to a pile on the forest floor.
“What are you doing?” you say, confused , though your gaze holds a keen interest in the way his long fingers begin loosening the buttons on his doublet.
“You said so yourself, if I cannot stay away from you, then I must take a dip in the river.”
The blood drains from your face, your heart stopping just as you meet the determined look in his eye.
“Because I didn’t think you would do it!” you gasp, and the smile that fills his face is made up entirely of mischief.
“Do you not take your bets seriously, Lady Baratheon?”
“Apparently not as seriously as his grace!” you exclaim, reaching to swat his hands away from his chest and dissuade any further progress along the buttons.
But Aemond is resolute and, as each button comes loose, he steps closer, forcing you to back away.
“My lady must believe I would have ensured she took her forfeit very seriously indeed,” he says, his doublet falling open to reveal the stark white linen of his tunic, the strings bound tightly at his neck.
You take another step away from him, your back colliding with the rough bark of a large tree.
“Do you want to know what it was? Your forfeit?” he asks, slowly loosening the long strings with a single pull.
“No.”
A smile quivers at the edges of his lips, and he inches right into your personal space, while the tree holds you still. And you can’t move, only watch, as his tunic unravels enough for you to see there are no bandages across his chest, only the bruise. Faded to a bloom of green instead of purple and so striking against his alabaster skin that you inhale a sharp breath.
Yet, you’re not looking at that . At least not for too long. You're staring at his hands, as they sink downwards to slide the end of his belt through its loops, each click of his buckle making your heart jump.
“This is absurd,” you whisper, your body tensing.
"Really ?” Aemond’s voice is low, seductive . “When I watched you undress, I found it quite mesmerizing.”
Your eyes flick to meet his and he must see the puzzled look on your face.
He had found you in the water, had he not?
“I was on the clifftop, resting Vhagar,” he says, answering the question which had not yet left your lips, “and just before I turned to leave, there you were. Wearing the black and yellow of house Baratheon.”
He pauses, letting the information sink into your bones, and you can hear the tightness in his breath before he laughs softly and continues, “I already thought it unusual for a high-born lady to be alone, so imagine my surprise when you began to take off all your clothes.”
He watched you. From the very first moment. He watched you.
You remember the way your chemise had billowed from your hands, forcing you to chase it down the beach. On the cliffs, he had certainly not been close enough to see every detail, but he had seen you. Your freedom, a moment that had felt so pure, so private .
Your temper burns and you push him with all your might, the action not surmounting to much considering the man you’re trying to repel, and his strength only serves to frustrate you further.
“You really are the worst man that ever lived!” You say and you mean it, but Aemond only smiles, enjoying the suggestion and possessing not an ounce of shame in his actions, past or present.
“I'd say there’s hardly a man alive who could have resisted watching you.”
Perhaps he was right. But he was the man who had been there that day and, though he could have left without saying a single word, he chose to fly closer, to stand where you could see him. To humiliate you.
Still, that is the least of your concerns as his belt comes free and his hand moves to rest beside your head on the tree, the hairs on the back of your neck pricking to attention.
“You’re out of your mind!” you tell him, thinking there was no way you were going to stand around while he took off all his clothes, and when you push him again, he doesn’t budge. He inches closer, his other hand tangling in your hair.
“From the moment I saw you on that beach, yes, ” he concedes, a spark of warmth flickering across your chest, but you ignore it.
“I hope you jump in the river, and it carries you out to sea!”
Aemond bites back his laughter yet he’s so close you can feel the echo of it rippling across his chest, and smell that all too familiar scent of his skin.
“It would be most unfortunate if I were to die without first kissing my lady, do you not agree?”
“I am not your lady.”
“But you have no objection to the kiss?” he shifts slightly, his nose brushing with yours.
“Yes ,” you’re barely breathing, “I have an objection. I- ”
But Aemond doesn’t want to hear what you’re about to say, he wants to kiss you, and you anticipate the touch of his lips with more desperation than you thought yourself capable of.
Yet , as his head tilts, and you feel the heat of his lips searching for yours, you come to your senses and turn away, his kiss landing on your cheek with a low groan.
Still, it is a kiss, Aemond’s kiss, and even if it hadn’t intended to land as such, it was still warm and delicate on your skin, and you couldn’t ignore the way your body reacted. Wanting more, wanting so much more that you were afraid of your own desires.
“I think his grace is forgetting himself,” you scold, your words no louder than the flutter of a butterfly wing, but really, it is you who is forgetting yourself .
“If I am forgetting anything,” he argues, his breath hot on your cheek, “it is why I did not kiss you sooner.”
“I'd say it’s because I do not want you!”
“Need I remind my lady that she has the most terrible face for deception?” His voice is strained, a single finger pushing along your jaw, forcing you to look at him.
"Need I remind his grace that I still find him the most repugnant man in the entire world?”
Or was that just another lie to crumble under his scrutiny? Surely not. No, you find his behaviour mostly smug and sometimes downright appalling. Yet that didn’t stop the way your skin ached for his touch; it didn't stop it for a heartbeat.
“You can remind me every day when we are married,” he promises with a slow, easy smile and, just as you think he might try to kiss you again, you hear a noise. Both of your heads flicking towards the sound.
It’s the wheelhouse, you realise, innocently ambling its way towards the clearing, while you’re standing hot and breathless, pushed up against a tree with Aemond’s clothes half undone and decorum fully discarded.
This was madness! Complete and utter madness! And you only had yourself to blame.
“I’m never marrying you!” you say, resolute , before his gaze returns to yours and he stares at you for a long moment.
“Then my lady must allow me the honour of proving her wrong,” he vows, stepping back so he has room to refasten the strings on his tunic.
You scoff, trying not to look at anything but his face, “I have quite made up my mind on the matter.”
“As have I.”
“This is not a game Aemond, you will not win.”
He pauses, surprised, delighted , “ what did you say?”
His name, you realise. You said his name. Not his grace or my prince or even Prince Aemond, just Aemond.
Your fingers press across your traitorous lips but it's too late to take it back now. So you don’t try. You don’t even dare to say another word.
You’re free to move and you do so assuredly, hurrying back towards camp with your hands brushing through your hair to hide any evidence from your little misadventure in the woods.
Seven Hells!
If Alicent had contrived to force you into Aemond’s company, then she had succeeded entirely.
You’d made one bad decision after another from the moment you’d laid eyes on him in the stable, and if you were being completely honest, you didn't trust yourself not to make another one.
No, what you needed to do was find Cassandra and stick to her ladylike manners for the rest of the day. Perhaps she would even switch places with you in the wheelhouse? Yet, as you think this, you remember how you’d insisted on riding without a side-saddle. Of course you had, because you were just as Septa Orella had always told you. A defiant, ill-tempered girl.
~~~
Thank you for reading! Let me know if you want to be added to my tag list.
#aemond targaryen#aemond x reader#aemond fanfiction#aemond one eye#hotd aemond#hotd fanfic#house of the dragon#ewan mitchell#romance#female reader#enemies to lovers#aemond targaryen x oc#prince aemond#slow burn
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Do you take requests? I have a brainrot here, with the Creator’s child being Childe’s kid
Imagine the one codenamed as Childe have a child, the convos of creator can be confusing to their people HAHHAHA
Or there’s this one ginger child that looks like one of Childe’s sibling but it is really just Tartaglia’s kid
The creator had a:
Carrot top child
WC: 500~
I kinda take request ig? I like reading what other people think of what I wrote and little drabbles about ideas
“He is a redhead but not quite like Diluc’s family” Venti waves a wood rattle In front of the baby's face his blue eyes blown wide and arms thrashing around.
“Such an interesting hair color” Morax covers his mouth, a grin forming at the familiarity with who he guessed sired that child.
“Whoever laughs alone something knows, Morax” the tsaritsa eyes him, her hands tying a small ponytail on “her little eurysaces’s” head. For someone who was so mad at the news she did become attached quickly. A mystery to all but morax.
“shouldn't you be the one laughing then?”
“Stop it, you two” you scold them as you take back eurysaces from the tsarina.
“childe, stop playing around you are scaring the child” you chime at him from the door, seeing him throw the kid up and catching him
“He doesn't seem to care, see?” he holds up his one year old, his auburn hair curling wildly in every direction and his mouth forming a smile.
“He is fear laughing”
“look at how happy he is! A little thrill seeker like his папа”
“Childe!” You yell as you walk to your lover and kid “what did I tell you?!”
And as if thinking you were screaming at your kid for eating a piece of candy before supper Ajax's mom starts defending her grandkid, already saying she was the one who urged him to have some but stops when you pass by her.
“I told you to stop trying to chop the damned wood, your shoulder blade is broken, just let your brother do it!” and she turns around to see her son holding up the axe and a small bunch of wood. For some reason he was bare chested.
“child, put on your shirt! You are embarrassing yourself”
“I didn't work out so much only to cover my muscles”
“папочка, stop embarrassing yourself…”
“Oh, ajax, it's been so long since we last saw you, since you father sent you to the fatui to fix your behavior you barely visit”
Childe settles his toddler on his hip, already knowing how long gossipy old neighbors can chat for “oh, it's been busy since their highness decided to stay in Snezhnaya, having to act as a bodyguard and all”
“Seemingly that excessive energy of yours at least did you some good at last” she smirks a bitter twinge of poison over her words, her gray eyes falling on the redhead on his hip “did your mother have another kid? I thought treucer was the last one, but she did say that about Tonya too” she glances over the two kids fighting with snowballs a few meters away.
His smile feels more forced and a thin vein pops just under his eyebrow and getting mixed with with his matching hair “No, treucer is still out spoilt baby brother, this one is my baby”
“But you are so young! Aren't you around 24? So bad you ruined your youth with such a reckless mistake” she grabs her forehead as she sighs without noticing you exiting the house.
“Oh? I would say eury is rather endearing, and it isn't like Ajax's career could advance much more” the poor lady almost falls over from the scare when she sees your face.
#genshin impact#gi#sagau#self aware genshin impact#genshin x reader#childe x reader#ajax x reader#tartaglia x reader#genshin childe#genshin ajax#genshin tartagalia
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Gator Tillman x Stripper!Reader
18+ Only! Minors DNI!
CW: Porn w/plot. AFAB!Reader. No use of Y/N. Pet names. Subby!Pathetic!Gator. Gator is lovesick. Mentions of past infidelity (no sex beforehand, but visits the reader on the regular). Girlfriend/ex-girlfriend talk. Oral (m receiving). Unprotected p in v. Creampie. Cocky!Gator at the end. Basically two toxic people.
WC: 4.7K (Oops!)
It had been a very productive night at The Tender Trap. You were just finishing up another set under the rush of the pink and red neon lights, gathering the falling tips by the bucket load as he walked in.
Looking as forlorn as ever, head hung low, his usually slicked back hair falling in and around his face and what looked to be a bruise forming under his eye.
You knew the look all too well. He ordered a beer at the bar and took his usual seat in the back taking up the entire bench, stretching his legs out still in uniform sans his kevlar and service weapon. For someone who liked to stay low key, he sure didn't know how to act the part.
You watched from the corner of your eye as his eyes trailed over you. Taking your time to slowly retreat into the dressing room, swaying your hips not bothering to cover your bare chest as you go.
You enjoyed making him wait, only making him more anxious and grumpy, all worked up just that way you liked.
As you sat at your small station reapplying your lipstick, one of the other girls walked in throwing a smirk your way.
“Your boy's out there looking for you.” She snickered.
“He's not my boy.” Replying flatly.
“You tell him that?” Laughing out, as you caught her reflection behind you.
No. You didn't have to tell him.
Gator Tillman only came around when he was fighting with his girlfriend though it seemed to be getting more frequent. You knew all the juicy, sorted details.
Finally emerging from the back, he was nursing his beer looking at the stage with his head tilted slightly, showing signs of boredom, thumb nail slowly peeling the label on his bottle.
Spotting you, his back stiffened sitting up a little straighter making your grin grow a little wider as you passed other patrons and ogling men vying for your attention.
His eyes remained steady on the stage as you sauntered over, trying to stay aloof as if he weren't here just to see you, pointedly avoiding your sultry gaze.
“Took you long enough,” he sassed, taking another swig of his beer as you sat down.
“Oh, I'm sorry Tillman. Did I keep you waiting?” Sassing right back. “Didn't even realize you were here.” Clicking your tongue.
“Nah, sweetheart, not at all. Enjoyin’ the view, drinkin’ a beer. What more could a guy ask for?” He grinned into the bottle, still looking away from you.
Your hand glides across the top of the padded bench seat, grasping his thigh making him choke on his next swig, quickly pulling the bottle from his lips wiping his mouth with the back of his hand.
The glare he sent your way only made you giggle before you spoke.
“What're you in for tonight? Need a chat…” your fingertips tiptoed up the expanse of his thigh, watching as his breath hitched. “Or a little something more?” Licking your lips in anticipation of the inevitable answer.
He pushed your hand away, setting the beer down.
“Can we at least go to the back before ya’ start gettin' all handsy?” He hissed out, finally looking at you.
You scoff, rolling your eyes.
“What’s your problem? Not like your girlfriend or daddy would ever set foot in here.” Getting up as you spoke.
He lightly grabbed your wrist, preventing you from leaving his space.
“Don't. It's just… ya’ know how it is.” Deflecting. His go to before you can get him relaxed.
“No, I don’t know. But,” sighing and melting into his touch. “Come on, you can tell me about it.”
His hand trailed down, gripping yours, letting you pull him up as his large fingers wrap around yours. You'd thought numerous times about how they might feel wrapped around your neck or stuffed inside your greedy cunt.
He held tight, following you into the back, watching the way your ass looked in nothing but the thong you wore, thighs pushed out with the way your tights were digging into the plush of them. He was already hard, anticipation thrumming through him as you led him down the small hall to a private room.
It was a revolving cycle. He'd either fight with his girlfriend or on some occasions, his dad, and come find you. You were a stress relief, a way to blow off steam without any judgment.
Yeah, you might cost him an arm and a leg but you were worth it.
You stopped momentarily, whispering something to the bouncer he couldn't quite discern over the thumping base and loud music this close to the stage. The guy nodded, as you looked back and began to lead him once more, taking him down a hall where the music began to fade.
“Want another beer before we get started?” Calling over your shoulder, an almost predatory toothy grin thrown his way.
“Nah,” answering quickly. It was always the same. He wasn't interested in drinks or waiting any longer.
You enter the very last room at the end of the hall. The same red walls as the club with a small couch situated at the far end and a pole in the middle. The music was filtering in through speakers hung in the corners.
He continued past you making his way over to the couch as you locked the door. Much like in the bar, he took up most of the space. Wide and domineering.
“You never answered me out there. What're you in for tonight?” Taking long, slow strides toward him.
“I don't really wanna talk tonight.” He huffed out, as you stopped short in front of him standing between his legs.
“Someone's really grumpy.” Tilting your head, hands slowly moving up his chest to his shoulders moving your face close to his, nails digging slightly into the leather of his jacket as you trailed small kisses across his jaw.
You pulled back, gripping his chin forcefully making him look up at you.
“That little girlfriend of yours piss you off that bad?” You chuckled, but he found no amusement in your words, moving out of your grasp with a pout. You found him adorable when he was pissed.
“Poor baby,” you tsked. Pushing up and away from him. Giving him a nice sway of your hips as you walked toward the pole, gripping it and spinning back around.
“Now, Gator, how long have we done this little number? Huh? You still trying to play coy?” You began dancing to the rhythm of the music filling the room as he watched you but stayed silent.
“I know when something is bothering you.” You spoke as you continued to dance. He had to adjust himself, cock now straining the constricting fabric of his cargos, almost painfully.
“If you don't tell me now, you know it'll just eat away at you. You can't even have any proper fun.” Dropping to the floor, crawling toward him at an agonizing pace, never taking your eyes off of him.
You slowly sat in between his legs, hands splayed on either side of his thighs so close to his length, he let out a shuttering breath as you began to lightly outline his cock with your fingertip, feeling it kick up beneath your touch.
Your number one rule was that you never fucked a client. No matter what. Each time you saw him, it became harder and harder not to give in. The way he would fall apart for you drove you absolutely crazy. He was pathetic, in all the best ways.
You laid your head on his thigh, looking up at him through your lashes.
“Gator, baby, tell me what's wrong. You'll feel so much better once you get it off your chest.” Your fake pout and doe eyes were too much.
“Fine. Fuck!” He threw his head back, exasperated because this little game you played wouldn't end until you got what you wanted.
“We fought. Again. We… I… broke up with her.” He sighed, unwilling to meet your gaze.
“Oh.” You lifted your head at that, standing to straddle his lap, legs on either side of his. Shifting to accommodate your frame as you sat down, immediately grinding your hips into his.
“Yeah…” coming out all breathy, as he hesitantly placed his hands on your hips.
“Poor baby,” continuing to move your hips across his lap, his cock hard against you with each pass and swirl igniting something within your own core.
“She… she wanted to get married and I didn't. It would have never worked out. She's just so different from… me.” What he had wanted to say was you. In the back of his mind, he knew this little thing between the two of would never really work out either. He was infatuated with the thought of you. Outside of the club he didn't know anything about you.
“That's such a shame.” Your own words coming out a little breathy, leaning close to his ear, lips pressing right under his jaw. You knew you shouldn't but you pressed in further lips sucking lightly, testing his reaction. When a small whimper escaped him, you only sucked harder, leaving a small mark behind.
His cock twitched, hips bucking up as he pressed you further down searching for more friction, blunt fingertips digging into your soft flesh. You had to bite your lower lip, suppressing a moan before it slipped out. It would be too easy to slip him out of his pants and slide down his shaft, feeling your own wetness pooling in your skimpy thongs, sticking to your folds.
Something, if you admitted to yourself, you'd also thought about numerous times. You'd heard the rumors. You'd felt his cock and knew it was big.
“You like that, Gator? Want me to mark you up? Let that little girlfriend and daddy know what you really like? What you've been up to?” You licked his pulse point, debating on sinking your teeth into his bared throat.
“Yeah.” He huffed out.
“Oh, Gator.” You pulled back, taking a hard look into his eyes. Glossed over, pupils taking over his mossy irises, now almost black.
“You'd regret it in the morning. I'm sure she'd see you and cry and you'll apologize and she'll take you back.” You chuckled, pushing off his chest slightly but he had a firm grip on your hips.
“I won't regret it.” He gritted out, nose to nose with you, lips daring to ghost over yours. “Don't you see what you do to me? I'd let you do anything to me.” Bucking his hips again for emphasis.
You'd done this cat and mouse a dozen times, always ending the same. You'd dance for him, grind on his cock all the while letting his hands roam over your hips and thighs, and even that was pushing it while trying to maintain a level of professionalism. But you always made it fun. He could vent while you'd take his mind off of whatever was bothering him, making him cum in his pants and sending him home.
“I know you would.” Taking his hands and shoving them off your waist. “But I have a rule and I'm not about to break it for you.”
Standing and striding back over to the pole, leaving his mouth gaping to stare after you.
“Why not?” He asks earnestly. As you begin to sway with the song, his eyes suddenly drifting down your hips and legs as if mesmerized by the small movements.
“You know I don't fuck clients. Period.” You shrug, turning back to him. “Even if you are a newly single man, if that's even true.”
He tilts his head for a moment, regarding you.
“You don't think I see the way ya’ look for me in the crowd when you're dancin’ up there? Or try to hold back those moans when you're back here alone with me?” He quickly rose, closing the distance between the two of you, suddenly nose to nose with him again.
“Darlin’ I think,” nose nudging yours. “You want me as bad as I want you. Tell me I'm wrong.” Hands finding your sides once more, bringing you flush to him.
Your hands found their way to his chest, to steady yourself, knees almost going weak at his insinuations. Had you been too distracted letting your facade slip? Had he seen right through you? You weren't sure but he seemed to be quickly gaining the upper hand, which simply would not do.
“Gator, baby, I think you're sadly mistaken. I try to make everyone feel like they're the only ones in the room. It's part of the show.” It slightly gnawed at you, watching the way he deflated at your words, lips pouted and eyes down turned, so utterly pathetic when he's sad.
“Go sit on the couch.” Patting his chest as he stepped away, giving yourself a reprieve in the process.
He sighed behind you, plopping back down on the faux leather seat sinking further into the cushion as you wandered back over taking up residency in his lap once more, facing away from him this time.
You swirled your hips, cock pressed hard against your ass.
“Little help?” Looking over your shoulder at him, wiggling your back. His fingers skimmed up, sending a wave of goosebumps across your skin, as he untied your top.
Lifting it above your head, you rose back up, throwing it across the room and turned back around to face him planting your knees on either side of him. Tits now eye level with him but he was looking up at you instead, making your cheeks heat. Why the fuck was he looking at you like that?
You sat back in his lap, hands roaming up the expanse of his clothed abdomen and chest as you leaned back into him, lips grazing his ear as you spoke.
“Okay Gator, maybe I have thought about you and what this big, fat cock could do to my pussy.” Grabbing his bulge for emphasis, squeezing him through his pants as he released a breathy moan.
“So, I-I was right?” You pulled back to look at him, shit eating grin across his face, eyebrow raised in your direction.
“Don't get cocky, or I'll stop this before we even get started.” Quickly shooting back, as he nodded.
“Good boy.” Hands gliding up under his jacket, pushing it off his shoulders, as he helped you pull it off and toss it somewhere across the room. “Now, lay back and relax.”
Some shitty country song was playing but you found your rhythm anyway, grinding against him. His eyes drifted to your breasts, down to where your clothed pussy rubbed against his cock.
“You fucking anybody on the side or was it just virgin Mary?”
He looked a little surprised by your question.
“Just her, but uh, it's been a while.” Sheepishly answering, cheeks suddenly tinged the prettiest shade of pink.
“Ok, good. I don't have any condoms, unless you brought one?” He shook his head. “I'm clean and on the pill. If you still want to do this.”
“Fuck yeah.” He nodded enthusiastically before you grabbed his chin, forcing him to look up at you.
“Undo your belt and pants. I want to see what I'm working with.” He didn't need to be told twice, hands quickly going to work, pulling his pants and boxers down just enough for his cock to spring free, laying between the two of you. He was much bigger than you initially anticipated. Eyes going a little wide with surprise.
He was long, and thick with a ruddy tip, already leaking a pearly bead at the slit. You licked your lips and looked back up to his smug face.
“Ya’ okay darlin’?” Finding a little humor in your sudden stupor.
Quickly flipping your demeanor smirking up at him, devilish glint in your eye as you moved from his lap to the floor settling between his thighs.
“It's a lot bigger than I expected, Gator. I'm not sure you'll fit.” Looking up through your lashes at him, laying it on nice and thick.
“Fuck, y-ya’ don't think so? My gi… my ex always said it hurt too much. Couldn't get more than half before she was cryin’.” You could imagine. His poor little girlfriend didn't realize what she was getting into with him.
You were anything but a good girl, moving closer to his raging erection and pursing your lips letting saliva pool before spitting it onto his shaft.
“Fuck!” He hissed out looking down at you with hooded eyes, as you gingerly wrapped your hand around him letting your thumb swirl at his head collecting his precum before spreading it down his cock and back up.
He squeezed his eyes shut, throwing his head back onto the couch. If he was this far gone from just a touch you weren't sure he would make it to the big finale.
“Eyes on me, big boy.” Squeezing at the base, eliciting his attention as he looked back to you.
“That's it. Couldn't let you miss this.” Saying with a salacious grin before sticking your tongue out to lick from his girthy base all the way up to his tip. The way he whimpered caught you off guard, sending a fresh wave of arousal straight to your already soaked cunt.
Your eyes never left his as you closed your lips around his leaking head, swirling your tongue and humming around the taste of him.
“Mmmm, Gator you taste so good. Did… what's her name ever do this for you?” You asked, it suddenly occurred to you that he'd never said her name out loud.
He shook his head, swallowing thickly, “No. She thought it was too…” trailing off.
“Too what? Dirty?” Kitten licking at his head before finally taking him fully into your mouth, surprising him as his hips bucked up, shoving him further down your throat, making you gag momentarily, before relaxing taking him a little further.
“Oh fuck… shit… that's… goddamn you're a dirty fuckin' girl.” He gritted out, eyes rolling back, all semblance of composure now gone as you began to bob your head, hollowing your cheeks with your hand stroking what your mouth couldn't fit.
“Wait… wait… slow down,” he suddenly huffed out. Trying to catch his breath, as you stilled and pulled off with a slick pop.
“Too much?” Looking back up at him with doe eyes and lips glistening with his arousal.
“Fuck… just fuck me… please?” He sounded pathetic; brow pinched with frustration at his pleading words. “I've thought about this for way too long. I want yo-your pussy.”
“What a needy baby.” Standing back up and planting yourself back on his lap. Just a thin layer of fabric separating the two of you now as you straddled his cock, feeling the heat of him pressed against you.
He leaned in, lips searching for yours, but you pulled back, hands on his chest holding him there.
“No kissing.”
“You'll fuck me raw but draw the line at kissin’?” Confusion flashing across his features.
“Yeah Tillman, I can't have you falling in love with me. This is a one time thing.” You giggled, pulling his hands up and placing them on your breasts as you began to move your hips, dick catching your clit, eliciting a moan from your lips but you didn't hold back this time letting it escape.
“Ya’ sound so pretty. Can I?” You looked back at him as he nodded toward your boobs still held in his hands.
“Can you what? Use your big words.”
“Can I suck your tits? They're so perfect an’ pretty. You're so fuckin' pretty.” Watching the way he kneaded them between his calloused hands as he spoke.
“Go ahead.” He quickly ducked his head, hand trailing to your lower back pressing you further into him as he sucked one of pert nipples into his mouth, swirling his tongue before lightly biting, making you arch into him before he switched to the other side giving it the same attention.
While he was mildly distracted, you took the opportunity to reach down and slide your panties to the side exposing you fully to him, grinding down once more. He popped off, almost breathless looking down between the two of you.
Wasting no time, you raised yourself up, guiding him to your entrance, letting his tip catch slightly looking him in the eye. You both looked a little desperate.
“You sure you want to fuck me, Gator? This dirty, little stripper? You could go back to your girlfriend right now.” The last part came out a little breathy when you sank down a fraction, but it was enough to slightly short circuit your brain.
“Please.” Slipped past his lips so quietly, if you hadn't been looking directly at him you would have missed it.
You watched his eyes roll back, as you began to slide down his aching cock, moans from both of you filled the air. Inch by inch, you took him further than he had imagined anyone could. If you weren't so soaked and horny you knew it would be a stretch for you.
His hands found your waist, grip tight as he dug into your supple flesh as you continued to sink further onto him.
As you neared the base, his girth began splitting you open in the best possible way as you stilled your movements, giving yourself a moment to adjust.
He refused to open his eyes, as good as it felt, he was afraid if he looked at the way your pussy had engulfed him, he'd burst right then and there.
You saw the way he held an almost pained expression. His jaw was slack, breathing heavily, already absolutely wrecked.
Moving your hips back up, removing him almost entirely, cock head staying buried in your tight heat, you swirled your hips slightly before working back down.
“Oh my God! Fuck!” He all but cried out, whimpering when you took him a little deeper this time, halting when his cock all but nudged at your cervix.
“Fuck! You're so deep!” You moaned out, grabbing his hand, pressing it to your lower abdomen. “Bet you can feel yourself in there? Huh?”
“Jesus Christ!” He hissed, finally looking down to where the two of you connected.
“No, just me, Gator.” You laughed, pushing his hand away, as you started bouncing lightly at first. His cock massaging your inner walls with each delicious up and down motion.
The way your walls were sucking him in, constricting around him with each pass he wasn't going to last long. Luckily, neither were you. You'd worked both of yourselves up into a fevered frenzy, ready to combust.
His cock was brushing that spot deep within you as you slowed down your movements. Grinding more than a bounce, the patch of hair at the base of his cock catching your clit with each pass igniting that spark in your lower belly. You closed your eyes, letting the feeling take over.
“You want me to cum all over your cock?” You rushed out, hand snaking up, pulling at the locks at the back of his head.
“Yes! Oh, fuck!” He whined out, not sure where his eyes should land, switching between your blissed out face, bouncing tits and back to where your pussy was staking claim to his dick. He was ruined.
Your moans grew louder as you neared your impending release, no longer able to stifle them as you continued to ride him.
His grip on you getting harsher with each passing second, sure to leave finger shaped bruises behind as he grew more desperate.
You felt that white hot heat pooling in your lower belly, as his cock continued to prod up against that spot along your frontal wall that made you see stars. You worked your pelvis a little more back and forth, feeling it again and again with each grind.
“Ahhh! Fuck! Gator, I'm… I'm…” You couldn't get the words out before you started to come undone. Your cunt clamped down around him, practically strangling his cock as he held tight to you, holding your hips steady as he began to fuck up into your tight heat, working you through your release and chasing his own.
Your fingernails dug into his shoulders, as you continued to moan and writhe atop him, trying not to collapse, as he used you like his own personal fuck toy.
A few more sloppy thrusts and he pulled you down on him, crying out as he practically impaled you on his length. He felt his balls tighten while letting out a guttural moan as his release spilled into your tight channel, a few more weak thrusts and he dropped his hands.
Too spent, you didn't move right away as you both sat there, chests heaving, trying to catch your breath.
“Shit,” you growled, knocking you both from a peaceful afterglow. You were seven minutes over his time and lucky that no one had started looking for you yet.
You peeled yourself away from him, hissing as he slipped out of you and pulled your thong back into place.
“Why the rush darlin’?” He asked, adjusting himself back into his pants and sitting up.
“You're over your paid time with me, Gator. This isn't a fucking hangout. Let's go.” Finding his jacket on the floor and tossing it directly at his chest as you pulled your top back on.
You reached for the handle once he had straightened himself up, throwing his jacket back over his shoulders.
“Hey, wait.” He called out before you turned the knob. “You goin’ back to work?”
“After that?” You snorted at the absurdity of it. If you didn't get to the dressing room, he'd be dripping down your leg. “Hell no, I've made enough tonight. I'm going home.”
“Yeah, that's good.” Nodding his head. “Ya’ need a ride?” Looking at you a little hopeful after what had just transpired.
“Gator Tillman, such a gentleman?” You chuckled. “Look, we don't have to do this. It was just sex, that you practically paid for. I'm not your girlfriend, I'm just a good time.” You winked at him, turning the handle but before you could open the door, he was behind you, arm outstretched above your head, palm pressed heavy into the wood.
You looked back at him, wondering if you'd suddenly said something wrong but that shit eating grin was back as he looked down his nose at you, eyes full of mischief.
“Thought I'd try to be nice, instead of just suggestin’ I could take you somewhere and bend you over the bed of my truck. But ya’ don't seem to like nice.” His words traveling straight to your core.
“Good to see that cocky demeanor is still intact, Tillman, but I told you this was a one time thing.” You smirked, pushing at his chest enough to get the door open and slip out, leaving him a little stunned. He watched you disappear down the hall, sighing as he made his way back to the front to pay the rest of his tab.
Once you made it to the dressing room you didn't bother cleaning up, pulling off your tights and throwing on some shorts and a tank top while haphazardly tossing your belongings back into your bag as you quickly exited the back.
You knew you'd fucked up. That lovesick look in his eye told you everything. You could eat this man alive, and he would smile while letting you. All without knowing your real name.
But it's just a little fun, right? What's a little more? You'd already broken your first rule, why not make the most of it?
Pleased to see you'd made it outside first, you propped yourself up against the wall close to the alley and lit a cigarette watching the front.
He finally stepped out, keys in his hand walking over to his truck. When he turned his back, that's when you finally spoke.
“Hey, Tillman!” He quickly turned; eyes wide as you strode up to him. “You still offering that ride?”
Tagging some mooties that might be interested: @hellfirenacht @thecreelhouse @xxbimbobunnyxx
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Idk just a weird story I got in the middle of the night
When Robin told Steve they were going to New York to see an old friend, the last thing on his mind was to end up in an underground queer bar with drag queens and prostitutes. I mean he’s not complaining, but why couldn’t they meet over coffee like friends, or just a regular bar, but no. It had to be a basement of a pizza restaurant where glitter and the sticky feeling was all around them.
“Robin, are you sure this is the place?” he said as she moved through the crowd to a free table, in front of the small yet very illuminated stage “cuz i dont think… these are your type of friends?”
“Hey handsome” a transvestite placed a hand on his shoulder and let her long nail press along making him shiver “Want something to drink?”
Robin smiled, completely pleased with the situation his friend was it
“Give me a rum and coke, and for the gentleman… get him a shirley temple please”
“What?! No!” steve shook his head “ a beer is fine please”
“A rum and coke and shirley temple on their way” she laughs as she walks away
Robin laughs too as she takes her purse and places it on the table. Steve just flips her off and looks around trying to understand where they were. The drinks were eventually served, and thankfully Steve got his beer, but also a phone number.
“Wet Wendy?” Steve reads “Her name is Wet wendy…”
“I have heard worst” robin scruggs, “and come on, have fun, you’re a fresh bisexual, and you're surrounded by everything you might like, no need to stress”
Steve breathes deeply and looks around, and before he can say something a loud music starts. It's a 80s like beat that is quite slow, and the lights started to go down while the stage curtains open
“Steve, it's starting,” Robin says as she hands him a 20 dollar bill.
On the stage there's a chair and a woman with her back to the audience. She has long, vicious hair that is curly and puffy. The person turns around and starts to sing the song.
“We broke up on a tuesday,
kicked me out with the rent paid
Ruined my credit
Stole my cute aesthetic”
And oh boy was Steve hooked. Other than the amazing hair, she was wearing some small yet clear devil horns. On her face was drawn a big white heart on her face, with the rest being red. The face on her though made his jeans tight, but just a bit. I'm talking bright blue eyeshadow, with some jewels and some big lashes that made the eyes pop brighter than ever he thought it was possible. There was a red lip tainted on her lips that were glossy and shiny. And the outfit was the best part of it all. She was wearing black pleather heels with red and black lingerie that fit like a glove. No to add a thigh corset that shaped the body like an hourglass. Steve was drooling.
But when the bridge started steve was pretty sure he was in heaven
It’s hot
When you have a meltdown
In the front of your house
And you’re getting kicked out
It’s hot
When you’re drinking downtown
And you’re getting called out
Cause you’re running your mouth
Oh god
The way she crawled on the floor while lip syncing the moans of the song made Steve's ears burn like a fever. She then layed on the floor on her back, to then arch it and show the red wine bra that had black jewels like nippels. She then got on her feet and got off the stage and walked around. People started to hand her dollars and she just grabbed them, stuffed them on her bra and then painties. Steve had to blink twice to make sure he was awake.
The girl then noticed him. He cracked. He let out a sigh like a moan as she locked eyes with her. Her dark brown almost black eyes looked like those supernovae in Dustin space books. It just got him trapped voluntarily and it made him gulp. She started to strut to him and grabbed him by the jaw to look up at her.
Ruin your life
You losing you mind
You dying your hair
People say I’m jealous but my kink is watching you
crashing your car
You breaking your heart
You thinking I care
People say I’m jealous but my kink is karma
She sang those words as she stared at him and smirked while taking a seat on his lap. God he was in trouble now. It took everything in him to stay still and not let his third leg rise up, but sometimes things just happen and it's inevitable. He looked up at her so ashamed and sorry for what he's doing, and for making her uncomfortable. She is trying to do her job and here is Steve with his willy hard. But it was as he looked up in awe at her, as she sang to the audience while dancing on him, that she enjoyed it of sorts. She then looked down at him, smirked and kissed him, hardly leaving a bright red stain on his lips that he would rather die than to take it off.
She climbed off him and walked back to the stage to dance where she made it very clear that not only she loves the attention but also loves the feeling on the stage. She belongs there, with her hair flowing with her moves. The way she portrays the song made it feel like she was singing to him and only him. Steve felt like he was in a world with only him and her. It was crazy.
He didn't even realize she had left until robin was snapping her finger in front of him. He looked at her and blinked again quickly and looked around
“Where did she go?”
“Her set finished 10 minutes ago, have you just been imagining her this entire time you perv?” she laughs, but steve just stares at her
“I need to meet her” he says
“Well you will”
“What!?”
“Yeah! In a few so go to the bathroom and get yourself together men, your friend joined the party, and that not really cute when meeting new people”
Steve stood up and ran to the bathroom that thank the lord was empty at the time. He washed his face and removed the lipstick stain from his lips and tried to calm down whatever was happening with him and his body at the moment. God he's about to meet her! He need to make a great first impression because then he’s fucked. He moved his hair from one side to another till it looked great. He smiled to the mirror and winked hyping himself up.
“Come on harrington, you got this' ' He said before leaving the bathroom.
Robin and him walked toward the back of the so-called bar to where a room with a star on the door hung where the word “dressing room” was written. Robin knocked twice before opening the door to find a bunch of men in makeup and robes running around changing wig and shoes. But on the very end, the dark curly mane stood up clearly. Steve swallowed and inhaled deeply as they walked into the dressing room towards her. She was wearing one of those 50s womens robes with the edge being fur. It was black with red fur and it was transparent enough for Steve to see some tattoos on her back that he didn't seem to see earlier.
“Hey!!” Robin said excitedly and she turned around.
Steve’s smiles didn’t fall… but it definitely twitched.
“Hey robs” Eddie munson said with a cig on his lips.
He looked better than Steve remembered from high school. He looked…. Amazing actually. The way his jaw was sharp and fine, his smirk was wider and flirtier than ever. He looked…. Even better than the stage.
“How are you feeling harrington?” he smirked “didn’t know you were one for underground bars, i thought you were more of a… 3 star michelin kind of guy”
The way he smoothed talked and slithered into Steve’s head made him literally stutter with his words
“I-i-i I mean- You- wha- li-” he then gave up trying to speak and just nodded subtly “yep”
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