#casual business garments
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Feels Like Gold
Jake Kiszka x reader
18+ only! Minors do not interact!
Warnings: graphic sexual content, unprotected sex, language, dirty talk, breeding kink, Jake drives a car (the most dangerous situation of all), extremely mild degradation, etc
Okay, in honor of our collective jakedown, I rooted around in my unreleased work and then did a little revamping. This one is for you, @piratejakesgf thank you for your request ❤️ *loosely edited, fair warning
And kisses to @jake-kiszkas-smirk and her brilliant mind for titling this when I was at a loss 💋 xoxo
“Fuck, these are so uncomfortable!” you hiss with exasperation, tugging at the itchy nylon hell encasing your legs.
“Told you not to wear them.” Jake reminds you, flipping on his turn signal before switching lanes, though the freeway is dark and nearly deserted.
“You know how my family is.” you remind him right back, annoyed with his flippant attitude. “If I’d shown up to that wedding in a dress with bare legs I’d have been labeled the whore of the family tree. My branch weighed down with bad choices; exposed skin and a degenerate rockstar on my arm.”
“I mean, to their credit, I actually am a degenerate so they’re just calling ‘em like they see ‘em.” His eyes are locked on the road, but a tiny smirk tells you he’s pleased with his cleverness. “Plus, your aunt tried to fuck me, so you aren’t the only whore in the family.”
An abrupt laugh trills out of you. “Right. Which aunt?”
“Does it matter?” he shrugs. “She told me she slept with Joe Perry and it left her with a taste for guitarists…I told her Perry could suck my dick because I could stomp his riffs any day, but that only turned her on even more.”
“And then what happened?” you giggle, falling into his little pretend world.
“Well,” he sighs wearily, “Promise you won’t be angry with me?”
You’re solemn and stoic, as if this is very serious business, “Scouts honor.”
“Then, I excused myself and wound up fucking your uncle in the bathroom, instead.” he squints at an upcoming exit sign to be sure you’re headed in the right direction, and then settles back into a more relaxed state, wrist guiding the steering wheel casually.
“Was he any good?” you ask, mock sincerity laced through your tone.
“I’ve had better.” He shrugs.
“You’re so stupid.” you shake your head with a doting roll of your eyes, and reach under your dress to roll the torturous hose down and off.
He watches out of the corner of his eye, stealing glances as safely as he can while driving.
“Jesus, they were thigh highs all this time?” he sounds a little like he’s considering jerking the car over onto the shoulder of the highway to drag you into the backseat.
“All this time.” the garment in question lands in his lap.
“Lemme see.” he orders quietly before you have a chance to remove the second.
Up the hem of your dress travels until he can get a good look at the black lace resting at the top of your thigh. “Fuck, pretty girl.”
“You like that?” you tease in a silken voice.
He nods, tightening his grip on the wheel.
You push a little further with, “Are you hard?”
“I’m gonna kick you out of this car and make you walk home.” he lies, reaching out to snap the elastic lace against your skin. “Take this one off, too…it’s doing unspeakable things to me. Especially since you’re only wearing the one. You look sloppy - like I just rocked your shit in the back of a tour bus.”
“Jacob Thomas..” you gasp lightly, as though scandalized “Someone seems a little worked up.”
“I might be, if only I didn’t have such a firm grasp on the power of will, my darling.”
He’s being untruthful, but he does it so elegantly - in that soft, slightly British lilt of his, you decide to grant him a very gracious pass and drop the second into his lap.
“You don’t look so bad yourself, Kiszka.” You wiggle your polished toes, enjoying the freedom. “My baby cousin, the one you let dance on your feet? She asked me if you were a pirate.”
This tugs an honest laugh out of his chest…a gorgeous sound that colors your cheeks pink. “You told her yes, I expect?”
You hum in confirmation, “I did. And I told her that you have a special sword with strings on it and it makes beautiful, dark music that people come from far away lands to hear. Just like the sirens in Peter Pan.”
His face visibly softens in the flickers of light shed by the street lamps whipping by. “You always did know how to paint a lovely picture, pretty girl.”
The low purr of the engine lulls your head against the window, but just as your eyes begin to grow heavy, he pulls you back to him with a quiet, “Hey,”
Turning your head against the seat, you study his profile, charting the map of your favorite face, “Yeah?”
”Whose baby was that you were holding? The tiny, tiny one,”
It seems such an odd thing for him to ponder, and you have to mentally sift through the reception a bit, you held a great many babies tonight…it seemed like every cousin and second cousin in attendance was weighed down by a diaper bag stuffed full of diapers and pacifiers.
”The one with the little headband bow-thingy.” He clarifies. “She was so small.”
“My cousin’s. He and his wife’s third in almost as many years. She’s only like a month old and smelled like heaven.” You draw in a breath and wish her silken tufts of hair were still pressed to your cheek, “Why?”
”I don’t know,” you know him well enough to know that’s a damn lie. “I just- I don’t know…do you ever think about it?”
Caught off guard, you opt for a little joke, “Does Jakey have baby fever?”
He smiles, and there is a touch of shyness that lives there, “Shut up. Do you think about it?”
“Do I think about having babies? Well, I-“
He interrupts quickly to set you straight, “Do you think about having babies with me?”
Oh.
Where is he heading with this? Will a bit of honesty scare him? Will it scare you?
Deciding to take the plunge, this is simply a conversation after all, and a subject that he broached to boot, you choose truth. “Yes, I’ve thought about babies with you. Although that whole twin thing is fucking terrifying.”
Again, you joke. Again, he doesn’t take the bait. “Identical twins aren’t hereditary. We’re just an accidental fuck up. When you think about it, what do you think?”
”A lot of things.”
Smoothly, he guides the car onto the off-ramp that leads to home. “Very informative, darling. A veritable treasure trove of information.”
He hasn’t tipped his hand and you aren’t about to let him off so easily. “”Do you think about it?”
”Honestly, not before. I mean, I think about how you’ll look in your wedding dress and if you’ll wear your hair swept up the way I like, and I suppose that’s sort of the same thing. Or headed in the same direction, anyway. But watching you hold that baby tonight…”
Your chest suddenly feels a little tight. You’re touched by his admission.
And how endearing that he wonders how you’ll wear your hair. You reach out and stroke the back of your hand along the cut of his jaw, “When the day comes, I’ll wear it up for you.”
~
Later, he’s draped across the bed watching you glide about the room in your bra and panties. Earrings unfastened and placed gently on your jewelry tray, necklace hung carefully, hair let loose and shaken out at long last.
Hands folded behind his head, he speaks up, breaking the spell you have unknowingly cast over him, “You said ‘a lot of things’. Elaborate.”
You turn, eyes drifting over the king lounging about upon the bed you share, in nothing but the dress pants he hasn’t yet bothered to shed. “What?”
He cocks his chin, summoning your attention further ”Babies. You said you think about a lot of things.”
He looks so fucking sinfully delicious…a sickeningly sweet cake sent from the bewitching trenches of hell to rot your teeth. “The normal things. Baby things.”
The heavy wooden frame creeks quietly as he pulls himself into a sitting position to study your expression, “Liar.”
”Oh, I’m sorry,” you dance around the accusation, “I just happen to be looking at a disgustingly attractive little shit waiting for me to climb into bed beside him. Forgive me for looking flustered.”
”Don’t be coy, darling,” he tsks, clicking his tongue against his perfect teeth. “I can see it written all over your pretty face. You’ve got a secret.”
He’s moving towards the edge of the bed now, drawing you in closer with his devilish stare. “Tell me.”
”I don’t have a secret.” Whose voice is that? Surely it’s much too quiet and meek to be your own.
”Tell the truth.” He hums, a knowing twinkle flashing in his gaze. “What do you think about?”
Your eyes refuse to meet his own as your stomach knots, warm and vibrating. “I guess…sometimes I - sometimes I think about the trying part of it all.”
He’s watching you closely, you can feel it like warm fingers dancing across your blushing skin. “So you think about fucking?”
He almost sounds disappointed. He had expected more judging by your hesitancy to share.
”Well,” your fingers are plucking at the comforter now, rooting out a loose thread to spin around your finger, “Yes, but it’s kind of more than that. I think about you… inside me.”
At last, you peek up at him. He looks curious, as if he can’t quite figure you out. “Why are you being such a little mouse about this?” His palms are cupping your face now, calluses soothing you like a song. “I’m inside you all the time, and I think about it all the time, too.”
Shaking your head gently, you find your footing…at least a smidge, “Not like that. I think about you inside me. The way you would have to be if we were trying.”
Your birth control rendered condoms unnecessary ages ago, yet he has always pulled out - ever cautious and responsible. Confusion is still painted across his features…until it isn’t.
“Oh,” a lascivious grin appears and you long to curl your tongue over his lips, “you fucking filthy little thing.”
In a blink, you’re dragged onto the bed and into his arms, tossed down with your back against the sheets. his body heated and flush against yours.
Mouth suckling and nipping at your throat, he rasps into your skin, “Is that what does it for you? Pretty girl wants my cum?”
Your body’s reaction is visceral, primal, and almost embarrassing. You’re arching away from the mattress, desperate to be even closer than you already are.
“Answer me.” He huffs, sinking a bite into your jaw.
”Yes…” your hands are in his hair, thighs around his waist, “I want it.”
”Say it.” He’s rocking against you now, hard and straining against your panties. “Say what it is that you want. What you think about.”
”I think about you fucking me,” once again, whose shaking voice is that? “I think about the way you sound when you finish, and the way your cock throbs and twitches in your hand, and how it might feel inside me.”
”Keep going.” He orders, soft and wavering in your ear.
”I think about how warm your cum would feel inside of me, and maybe I wouldn’t be able to keep it all in. Maybe it might tickle a little when it leaked out.”
”Fuck, baby…” his hands are everywhere, yanking your breasts from the cups of your bra, winding your panties down your thighs, fingers sinking into your soaking, clenching cunt with a groan that sounds pained.
He seeks out your favorite spot and tucks up into it, wrenching a wanton moan from your lungs “You want me to fill this little pussy up? Keep you dripping wet with me all day long? Fuck baby after baby into you?”
”Jake…” you’re clawing at his bare shoulders, fucking yourself hopelessly against his hand. “More.”
He slips a third finger inside you, “Is that why you get a little whiny when I pull out? My girl wants me to do it inside?”
”More,” you urge through gritted teeth, eyes locked in on his face and the lust so evident in the set of his features.
”You want four?”
”Please, Jake…” tears are threatening at your lash line, “more, more, more,”
“You’re having some trouble listening tonight, aren’t you?” he sounds diabolical, and turned on beyond belief. “I asked you a question.”
His thighs prise your legs open wider as he squeezes his pinky into your warmth to join the rest of his drenched fingers, “Do you want my cum inside you? You want me to give it to you? Keep it all safe and warm for me?”
With a mournful wail you’re reduced to a million little pieces beneath him. Rocking frantically into his touch…the heel of his hand grinding quick circles into your clit as his fingers fuck you through it. He’s covered in you, it rolls down his wrist and beads against his stomach like early morning dew, anointing him as you thrash and writhe like a beautiful, fluttering leaf in an autumn wind.
When the hazy fog clears, allowing your sight, it’s his face - stunning and beaming - you find, “Hey, pretty girl.”
Now that you’re coming down, your diffidence returns and you close your eyes in a pathetic attempt to hide.
He’s having none of it, “No, no, darling…you stay with me. Right here, baby. You look so pretty with my cock inside you, imagine how fucking beautiful you’re gonna be when I fuck you full.”
“Please, jake…” it’s pathetic really, and maybe you should care about that, but you don’t. “I need it, I need it so bad.”
“Yeah?” The gravel in his tone makes you shiver with frantic desire. “Pretty girl just wants to bounce on my cock all day? Just using me to get what she wants?”
Rather than answer, you elect to begin wrangling the button on his pants.
“Someone’s eager.” He teases softly, lifting up on one elbow, easing your struggle. “You want it that bad? Are you gonna let me cum wherever I want? Gonna let me put a baby inside you?”
“Fucking do it!” Frustrated and sparking with electric desperation, you give up and tug on his waistband feverishly until he takes over, popping the button with ease and kicking them off.
His cock is fisted in his hand now, with your eyes fiercely focused on it. Hard and beautiful and yours. “You want that inside you?” He whispers, watching you stare. “You want me to fuck you? You want me to fucking breed that pretty pussy? Make you a mama?”
You should be ashamed of yourself, you well and truly should be…but fuck if you don’t want more, “Keep talking while you fuck me,” you breathe, somewhere between imploring and begging, “Dirtier, come on…”
His cock slips inside. Just the cashmere tip teasing at you, “Dirtier?” He nudges in a little deeper, just enough to make you whine, “well what should I say, pretty girl? Should I tell you that you’re my beautiful little cum slut and if I’d known it sooner I’d have been stuffing you full all this time?” Deeper still he glides, “Or that I want to cum inside you and then fall asleep with my fingers buried in your cunt to keep it where it belongs?” He’s fucking you harder, faster…the pillowy head of his cock kissing your cervix in a divine dance between pleasure and pain. “Or should I tell you about how I think about licking it up? Kissing you with my cum on my tongue because I know you’d suck it off like the greedy little baby you are.”
“I-“ a pitiful whimper escapes you, but his fingers are suddenly grasping your chin, grounding you enough to collect your scattered thoughts. “I’m gonna cum, tell me where you’re going to cum. Tell me where you’re going to put it. Please, I want it,”
Hips rolling into a succulent grind against your swollen clit now, he begins “I’m gonna fuck you until you’ve got every last drop, pretty girl. It’s all yours, are you gonna take it for me like a good girl? Are you going to be a good little mama and take it all?”
His name is all you can manage as you shatter. It’s primeval and animalistic, sounds that would make you want to crumple in on yourself if anyone heard them besides your Jacob.
“You’re so fucking tight and wet..” his perfect cock is pounding you through it as he inches closer and closer, “are you ready for me to make a mess of this little beauty right here? Hmm? Ready for me to fuck this cunt all full and dirty? You want it?”
“Jake…” you trail off, eyes fighting to stay open and locked in on his face while you shake against him, twisting and clenching around his perfect cock, “you’re so fucking hard.”
He nods furiously, burying his face in the crook of your neck to lick your pounding pulse “That’s all you, baby. You make me that hard.”
Your hips begin rocking up to meet him even faster, hungry to please. “Good girl, you keep fucking that cock. Are you gonna take what you want? Gonna make me cum? Gonna help me fill this pretty little cunt?”
In response, your nails dig into his skin, raking your mark, claiming him. You’re almost there again, though you can’t imagine how. “I’m so fucking close,” you’re sighing and shaking the words into the room, offering confession.
“Again?” He’s mocking you so sweetly, teasing dirty words into your ear like lullabies, “Already? Is my pretty girl gonna cum on this cock? Squeeze and suck the cum right out of me to steal it away? You want it that badly?”
You let go, with a trembling breath of his name, and feel his body tense against the feverish grip of your orgasm.
”That’s it, baby,” his words are but a sigh skittering across your cheek, “That’s it. Feels so good. Feels like gold. My pretty, pretty girl…”
He fucks you faster even as you melt into a puddle within his arms. “Gonna cum for you,” he promises, “I’m gonna cum so hard for you. Who’s going to take it? Who’s gonna take every fucking drop?”
”I am,” have you even made a sound? You can’t be sure, you’re so lost.
”Yes, you are…” his forehead, slick with exertion and need, nods against your own. “You’re going to take it just like you take this cock. My good fucking girl…pretty pink baby doll just begging for me to wreck her.”
Without warning, he collapses into your arms, moaning and crying out, shuddering as he releases inside you. Warm and perfect, everything you’ve ever imagined and so much more.
His fingers sink into your muscles, clutching and pulling you closer still, “Baby…” he sounds raspy and pained, “Baby, baby, baby, fuck..fuck…”
And when at last, he calms, it is with his cheek pressed to your chest, clocking the wild metronome that is your heart with your hands sweeping through his hair.
Soon, you’ll both crawl out of bed, maybe into the shower…perhaps into the warmth of a bath, but for now it is simply you, and Jake, and this tranquil bliss.
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#greta van fleet#greta van fleet fic#greta van fleet smut#greta van fleet fan fiction#greta van smut#greta van fic#gvf fic#jake gvf#jake kiszka x reader#jake kiszka fanfiction#jake kiszka fanfic#jake kiskza#fanfic#jake kiszka smut#jake kiszka imagine#jake greta van fleet#jacob kiszka#jake x reader
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���✩‧₊◜ a kiribaku x reader scenario that’s lived in my head for awhile now! it’s not really a formalized…anything. just fleeting thoughts. ♡
✿ tangled hearts modern au masterlist ✿
｡‧˚ʚ wc; ~2.6k ɞ˚‧｡
Thinking about a modern day AU with Kirishima and Bakugo settling down in the countryside for a quiet life away from the hustle of the city. They’re in their early 30s, married and happily tucked away in their own little paradise - until they meet you.
Bakugo works with his parent’s fashion agency as the director of the design department, and is a designer himself. He went to the highest credible fashion institute in Tokyo and graduated top of his class - as expected.
Kirishima is a personal trainer and owner of the local gym. He took a few business classes after high school and general fitness courses to learn all about it. He loves getting to help people and knows almost every single person in town. He also volunteers with the local fire company.
It was the ideal place for them, not too big and not too cramped. Bakugo had his own garden that he cherished while Kirishima loved the backyard for home exercising. Their home was spaced out from their neighbors and gave them the perfect amount of privacy.
The town is only an hour and change outside the city, still remaining close for friends and family by train. Bakugo mostly worked from home and only went into the city office for important meetings and press conferences. He preferred to work in his own space while designing instead of in a buzzing office where anyone could bother him - especially his parents.
Their morning routine was simple: Bakugo would wake up anytime between 6 and 6:30am, rolling out of bed to start breakfast and coffee. By the time he’s done cooking, Kirishima stumbles into the kitchen with his eyes half closed, sleepily making his way over to kiss his husband good morning. They’d sit at the table together and casually talk about their plans for the day or in silence as they enjoyed each others company.
That was all disrupted the morning Kirishima spotted you outside the gym, waiting for it to open. He didn’t recognize you like he did everyone else in town - that immediately caught his attention. Once inside, you introduced yourself and told him how you moved from the city for a new job. The two of you got to talking longer than anticipated and ended up bonding over you being new to town. Kirishima signs you up for his yoga classes the following week, excited to see you mesh with his regulars.
Bakugo’s on his lunch break later in the day at the local market to pick up his usual fresh vegetables and fruits when he spots you browsing the aisle behind him. He peeks over his glasses to see his design logo on the small tag at the hem of your tshirt. He simply smiles to himself, proud to see a garment of his in the wild, and finishes his own shopping.
───
A few weeks go by of getting to know Kirishima as you attend his classes. You’d stop and talk with him afterwards each time, slowly developing a friendship. One day after class, he casually mentions to you that his husband is a great cook and how his food rivals any five star restaurant from the city. On a whim, he invites you to dinner with him and Bakugo at their home - you agree happily. You didn’t have any friends in the area, what’s the harm in meeting people?
You arrive at their cozy home and are greeted heartily by Kirishima at the door as he puts a hand on your back and welcomes you inside. Bakugo turns his attention from the stove to the door, nodding in your direction as he continues cooking. You can’t help but think he looks…familiar.
Their place is gorgeous, tidy and clean, yet homey. There were pictures of their family and friends hung up all over alongside some simple art pieces and knick knacks. You could already tell who decorated versus who didn’t - Kirishima is definitely not the type to decorate so eloquently.
You’re gazing at one of the pictures when the realization smacks you in the face.
He’s responsible for half the clothes in your closet.
Kirishima is married to the Katsuki Bakugo of the fashion world? And you’re in his house for dinner that he’s serving to you?!
The thought makes you dizzy as your face flushes, desperately trying to hide your sudden excitement. And you chose to wear one of the dresses he designed for a collaboration years ago. What are the chances? Kirishima never told you what his husband’s name was, just that he was married.
“Y/N, I want you to meet my husband, Katsuki!” Kirishima excitedly says as he’s walking you to the kitchen. “Kat, this is Y/N. She’s the one I told ya about from my yoga class!”
The two of you lock eyes for a moment before Bakugo looks you up and down, calculating his first impression of you. He wasn’t about to tell you that he’s seen you around town before, he had to play it cool and not make it seem like he already knew you existed.
“Nice ta meet ya,” he greets before returning his attention to the stove. “Dinners just about ready. Ei, can you set the table?”
You all sit down for dinner, and it’s absolutely delicious. Kirishima was not joking about Bakugo’s cooking, every single thing you ate was delightful. You honestly don’t know if you’ve had a better meal than his.
“This is absolutely amazing, Ba-”
“Jus’ call me Katsuki.”
Him cutting you off to correct his name before you even finished saying it made your heart skip a beat.
“Oh, sure. Katsuki, this is honestly one of the best meals I’ve ever had,” you repeat, picking at that last of your vegetables on your plate. “I saw a garden outside. Do you grow them yourself?”
Bakugo grins, glowing at your compliments. “Yep. Anythin’ not in season I grab from market.”
Kirishima watches the two of you interact, happy that he was right about the three of you getting along seamlessly.
You shuffle in your seat at the next pause in your conversation before deciding to ask the burning question on your mind.
“So, Katsuki…what do you do for work?”
He laughs, motioning to your sundress. “Ya don’t have to beat around the bush about it. I can spot my work from a mile away.”
That broke the ice and allowed you to relax, knowing he didn't think you were trying to impress him by wearing his own design. The night went on, way past dinner, where the three of you talked about any and everything. It felt as if they’d already known you their whole lives, the conversation never feeling forced and flowing naturally.
“Shit, I’m sorry for staying so late!” You exclaim while looking at your phone. “Didn’t mean to keep you guys up.”
“Don’t apologize, y/n! You’re welcome here anytime,” Kirishima assured, slinging his arm around Bakugo on the couch. “We’d love to have ya over for dinner again soon!”
You’re about to head out the door when Bakugo gets up from the couch and stops you. “It’s dark, lemme walk you back to your place.”
“Oh, you don’t have to do that,” you insist, but he wasn’t having it. He was already changing out of his slippers and into a pair of sneakers. He held the door open for you as you waved to Kirishima, thanking him again for having you over and that you’ll see him for class in the morning.
You and Bakugo are walking down the dimly lit street toward your apartment complex, hands in his pockets, when he strikes up another conversation about your dress.
“You didn’t need to act so shy about the dress,” he comments. “Looks good on ya.”
You can feel your cheeks get hot again, praying he can't see your reaction in the street lights. "T-thanks! I love your work. I actually have a lot of the clothes you’ve designed…what are the odds?” You trail off at the end out of nervousness, playing with the fabric of the dress.
“Yeah? Good to know.”
The two of you approach your building and he says a simple ‘good night’ as he waves, turning to head home.
There’s a weird feeling in your chest, one that you haven’t felt in a long time. A warmth that floods your body with…you can’t pinpoint it. It makes you sweat, but comforts you at the same time.
Little did you know that the boys were feeling the exact same way.
───
Months go by as the three of you become inseparable - dinners, movie nights, shopping at the market, going into the city together, meeting their friends, walking around town at sunset, picnics in the park, you name it. Kirishima and Bakugo never knew they could feel so comfortable with someone so quickly - it was as if the three of you were meant to find each other.
While the two of them are lying in bed one night, Kirishima decides to open up about his feelings. He rolls over to face Bakugo, his usual pointy hair fluffed around his face against the pillow.
“Kats, I got a question for ya. It’s kinda…weird?” He starts, fiddling with the hem of the comforter. “Do you…uhh, shit. Do you have any feelings toward Y/N?”
Bakugo flips to his side to face him. “What do y’mean?”
“Oh don’t be like that. I think she’s…really cute,” he admits, his cheeks turning rosy. “I enjoy having her around.”
Bakugo grumbles in embarrassment, pulling the comforter up to cover his face. He feels like a high school boy all over again - he just didn’t want to admit it.
They’d both fallen for you simultaneously without even saying a word. Neither of them knew why, they’ve been together for over a decade now - since their college days. No one has ever made their hearts race in sync like you do.
“I’ll take that reaction as an agreement,” Kirishima teases, poking Bakugo’s forehead through the covers. He groans again as he throws the blanket off his face.
“It’s been confusin’ the shit outta me. I love you, Ei and that doesn’t change shit, but goddamn. She’s fuckin’ gorgeous,” Bakugo admits, face and ears burning hot.
“Aw, you’re so cute when you have a crush!” He scoots closer to Bakugo and kisses him on the forehead. “Haven’t seen that side of ya since college.”
Bakugo bats at him playfully, pushing him away as he whines, “Shut the fuck up!”
“So…what do we do about it?” Kirishima’s question hangs in the air between them, heavy…but alluring.
───
The next few times you hang out with the boys, you can tell that things feel a little more…intense? If that was the right word, the feeling was foreign. You found yourself becoming more physical with the two of them, and each time gave you butterflies. You weren’t quite sure what was going on until that fateful night.
It was a dreary night, the remnants of the storm passing through the town. The rain was no longer a torrential downpour and had tapered off into a sprinkle, enough to allow you to walk home safely. You’re heading for the door as Bakugo catches up to you, umbrella in hand.
“Y’know the drill, I’m not lettin’ ya walk home alone. Especially when it’s still raining.”
“Kat, you hate the rain, it’s fine,” you argue, but know it’s pointless. Bakugo waves at Kirishima and you notice Kirishima’s smile is extra wide tonight…and did he wink?
He closes the door behind the two of you and opens the umbrella on the porch, slinging an arm around your shoulders to huddle you under its protection.
The walk to your apartment is silent, an unknown tension lingering in the air. The subtle flexing of Bakugo’s fingers on your shoulder is driving you wild, a simple touch was enough to ignite the fire in your gut. Reaching your apartment complex, you stop to thank him for walking you home like always, but something else spills from your lips instead.
“Did I do something wrong?”
Bakugo’s taken aback by your question, confused where this has come from. “What? No, not at all. Why?”
“I…just don’t wanna make you two uncomfortable,” you whisper, eyes cast to the ground. “I really like you two…and don’t want to come between y-”
The umbrella clatters to the ground as Bakugo throws it to the side, letting the rain pelt against the both of you as one hand pulls you into him by the waist and the other under your chin.
“That’s right where we want ya,” he speaks against your lips. He hesitates, tilting his head back and looking directly in your eyes. “Tell me to back off, and I will. We can act like-”
This time, you cut him off by putting a hand on the back of his head and one on his chest, pulling him to meet your lips. The world stops around you as the rain trickles down your faces and vaguely into your kiss. You tangle your arms around each other’s bodies, illuminated by the soft street lights as your clothes become heavier with rainwater. After what feels like ages, you part, catching the breath you’ve stolen from each other’s lungs.
No words are spoken as Bakugo takes your hand, tugging you back down the road toward their place. You giggle and begin to run with excitement, skipping through the rain with him all the way back. Throwing open the front door, you both take a step inside, soaking wet from the rain. Kirishima glances over from the couch, shocked to see you return with Bakugo.
“Woah! What happened to you two?” he asks, concerned yet intrigued. He then notices you’re holding hands, and it clicks.
You’re stripping the wet clothes from your body faster than you can chicken out of doing so, letting them plop on the floor of the foyer until you’re left in your bra and underwear. Bakugo follows suit and trails behind you as you make your way over to Kirishima on the couch. You take a deep breath before placing a hand on each of his shoulders, sliding into his lap and wrapping your arms around his neck. He places his hands on your waist anxiously, scared you’ll shatter under his touch.
“It’s okay, Eiji,” you coo, leaning down to his ear. “You can touch me.”
You turn back to Bakugo as he’s sitting next the two of you on the couch, reaching a hand out to stroke his cheek. “Katsuki can, too.”
That’s all the permission they need to devour you all night long - over and over again like a drug they couldn’t get enough of. Brief naps in between, each time better than the last. Hands tangled in hair, lips kissing skin in sinful places, and noises only the three of you could orchestrate together.
That was the night their lives changed forever, thanks to you. Things were easy and simple between the three of you - you blended into their routines perfectly as the weeks progressed. Waking up between the two of them each morning was heavenly, especially when they fought over who got to cuddle you through the night. Bakugo usually won that fight until he would go make breakfast, then Kirishima would tuck you under his arm and hold you close.
Everything was so easy between you three, you were the missing puzzle piece in their lives that they didn’t know was absent.
You were theirs, and they were yours - simple as that. They wouldn’t trade their newfound goddess for the world.
i immediately think of @pastelbakugou & @kweenkatsuki-fics when it comes to kiribaku x reader, thank you for being my inspirations! 💜
next entry: delicate (isn’t it?)
#☆.tangledhearts#katsuki bakugo#eijiro kirishima#kiribaku#kiribaku x reader#kiribaku fluff#bakugo x reader#kirishima x reader#bakugo imagine#kirishima imagine#kiribaku imagine
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business dealings - sampo x reader (3.5k)
sampo's line of work has given him a lot of experience in getting what he wants.
cw: corruption kink, naive virgin reader, sampo is manipulative n kinda sleazy. reader is afab but no gendered terms/language are used. reader is chubby, shorter than sampo. loss of virginity, blowjobs, coming inside.
not sfw, minors dni.
At heart, Sampo is a businessman.
He knows what he wants - generally, as much shield as possible - and he's willing to do almost anything in order to get it. Bartering, trading, a little bit of illegality (it's only illegal if he gets caught, after all) - talking his way both out of and into things.
So when you'd looked at him, with your eyes all pretty and big and doe-like, admiration leaking into your tone as you asked him about what the underworld was really like . . . he'd decided that what he wanted next was . . . well. You.
It’s surprisingly easy.
Easy, because you’re malleable and naive to the ways of the more . . . nefarious sides of society. You’ve never had to worry about stepping foot out of your comfortable life, beyond the vague threat of the Fragmentum and the Eternal Freeze that bothers every citizen of Belobog. But your life within the city isn’t threatened; you look at the Silvermane Guards with respect and awe, but you don’t honestly believe yourself in any danger. And because of that certainty that bad things will not happen to you, you’ve developed quite a cute interest in those other things - like Sampo, and his trips to the underworld, his easy way of slipping between things, his adventures and the embellished stories he tells you. And you’ve become quite easy to get information out of, on top of all of that - anything to help Sampo out, after all.
Oh, you’re adorable.
He thinks about you a lot, when he’s embroiled in another danger he brought upon himself - imagines how to spin it so he’s the hero, and you look at him with those wide eyes and your mouth open, lips soft and kissable in the glow of the heat lamps, and you breathlessly say; “Oh, Mr Koski!” in that awestruck little tone he cannot get enough of.
He thinks about you a lot, too, alone in his bed at night with one hand wrapped around his cock and his back arching. He thinks about the shape of your body beneath your clothes; the ample curve of your chest, the wide contour of your hips and how perfectly they would fit in his grip if you were beneath him. The fullness of your cheeks and lips, and how they would look wrapped around his length - the soft noises you’d make as he pushed it in just a little further than you could handle.
He thinks, perhaps, he should feel guilty about it. The thing in your eyes when you look at him is almost hero worship. But Sampo Koski did not get to where he is by way of self-reproach, and surely one wants to help out their heroes when they can?
So he does what he always does. He sets his plan in motion.
And if this plan does not end in shield, but in someone sweet wrapped around his finger, thighs wrapped around his hips, mouth wrapped around his cock? Well. It’s a plan nonetheless, and Sampo has never been a man who says no to the spoils of his own schemes.
He starts only small.
Bends his head closer to yours when the two of you talk, making sure that you’re made entirely aware of the breadth of his shoulders and his biceps, the peek of his bare chest beneath his complicated (but fashionable--) outfit. Allows the sharp emerald of his eyes to wander, just enough to be appreciative - just enough that he can sense how your cheeks heat, how you twist your fingers shyly into the fabric of your garments.
Lets his hand wander to a place that skirts the edge of being respectable; your waist, but almost your hip. The dip of your lower back, but so close to the tantalising curve of your rear. Your cheek, but so so close to the delicate pulse beating in your throat that he sees how it speeds up at his touch.
Pays you compliments, thrown out as casually as a breath but aimed to strike at the heart. How pretty you look today. How much he appreciates your time together. How you’re always the highlight of his time on the surface - how he simply couldn’t imagine not coming to see you. You respond, as he knew you would, with eager little soft-voiced entreaties about how you feel the same, how much you appreciate him, how you’re always so happy to see him. How you just love having the chance to help him. He knows that the time is ripe when he catches your chin in gloved fingers and smiles down at you and says, his voice carefully pitched like affable velvet;
“And what if I asked you for your help with something else, sweetheart?”
Your eyes go all big and wide. Even through the fabric of his gloves, he can feel the heat that has risen to your face. There was never any doubt about it, but he’s glad to have the confirmation even so - you’ve been nursing an innocent crush on him.
It won’t be so innocent when he’s done with you.
“Mr Koski,” you say to him, your voice squeaking with nerves. He can see, again, the quick beating of your pulse - the eager-to-please nature that makes you such a thrillingly delicious prospect to have in his bed. That hopeful look that you can be of use to him. He wants to ruin you. He loves the way you say his name. “Of course, I’d do anything you asked me to!”
He chuckles at you affectionately and leans in so close he can feel your breath against his lips. You tremble under his touch even now - he can’t wait to see how you’ll tremble under his clever fingers later on, when he has you somewhere more private. You look into his eyes with the breathless delight of someone having a fantasy come true. Naive little thing. Still. It wouldn’t hurt for him to play the gentleman just a tiny bit longer.
“Can I kiss you?” He asks, chivalrous as he wants you to think he is. Your lips part, and he thinks about choking you on his cock even as you go giddy inside over the concept of your first kiss.
“Yes,” you breathe - and Sampo’s lips meet yours. They curve into a smile as you kiss back - unsure, prim, pure as the driven snow.
Sampo’s plan has been a great success.
He’s going to get what he wants.
He takes you somewhere that he knows will not ask questions. The Goethe Hotel is not an option, but a man like Sampo doesn’t get where he is by not having connections - connections who will not ask about the pretty, wide-eyed Overworld denizen who’s clinging to his hand so tightly, looking around like they’ve found themselves in a storybook. You don’t even have the sense to ask him where he’s taking you - you’re all caught up in the romance of his kiss, the sweetness of his compliments, and the fact that your daydreams are coming true.
“You wanna make me happy, don’t you?” He asks you, thumb skating over your cheek, and you nod at him with a sweetness that makes his teeth ache. “Come here, sweetheart. Pretty thing.”
You shiver under his touch like a shy flower blooming, petals soft and untouched by human hands. You whisper out his name when his fingers find the buttons of your outfit, your skin going hot and nervous - but he makes soft little noises of comfort, reassuring you even as you’re bared before his eyes. He can barely stop himself throwing you onto the bed and having his way with you.
“Look at you,” he says instead, as you stand before him all shivering and hopeful and naked. “You’re gorgeous.” You press your thighs together at the compliment, teeth biting into the plumpness of your bottom lip. His hands slide over you appreciatively, pulling you closer to where he sits on the bed. He maps out those same places that have haunted his wet dreams; all of those curves, the plumpness of your thighs and your stomach, the weight of your chest in his hands as he swipes his thumb over your nipples and you make a sweet little noise of surprised desire that makes his cock throb in his trousers.
“C’mon,” he says, with that crooked smile that makes fireworks go off in your stomach. “Would Sampo hurt you, sweet thing?” You shake your head, immediately - even now, you’re unwilling to think the worst of him. You’re perfect. “Get on your knees. I’m gonna teach you somethin’.”
It’s a scene right out of his nighttime fantasies when you hesitantly sink to your knees. Your desire to please warring with your desire to hide. But oh, do you look lovely down there.
“That’s right,” he practically purrs, stroking your cheek. He feels giddy with the power of it all as he looks down at you - and as he unzips himself, you stifle a gasp and he feels his cock twitch in his grip. He’s proud enough of what he’s packing, but he sees it through your eyes and wishes he could take a photograph of you right there and then. Hesitant and eager and shy all at once. “Open your mouth for me, hmm?”
Obediently, you do exactly as he asks. One of his hands fastens about the back of your head, keeping you in place - you start but do not fight it, looking up at him with your expression utterly open and guileless. You trust him, and the thought makes a ripple of pleasure go down his spine. Your tongue is pink and wet in the lamplight.
“Good,” Sampo praises, and your skin heats again. He guides himself into your mouth - you make a soft noise of surprise, but don’t pull away - your eyes stay locked on him, an unspoken question in your eyes. Am I doing this right? Is this good? Are you happy with me, Mr Koski? “Use your tongue for me, sweetheart. That’s right. You’re doing great.”
You look up at him from between his thighs and he lets out a muffled groan of pleasure as your tongue swipes unsurely over the head of his cock. You’re so cute down there. Even better than he imagined. There’s no satisfaction like a plan that’s going off without a hitch - and as you manage to swallow down even more of his cock, as a trickle of drool escapes from the corner of your mouth and your eyes go watery with the effort, he can’t help but cant his hips into you.
“Shh, shh,” he says, as your eyes widen in surprise and you almost try and pull back. His hand stays in place on the back of your head. That look on your face is going to keep him company through some very lonely nights. “I’m only doin’ that because you feel so good, sweetheart. Don’t stop, okay? You’re so good for me. Perfect.”
The last comes as you bob your head, tongue tracing the veins of his shaft - he relaxes his grip just enough for you to carry on the movement. Sampo lets a sigh fall from his lips as he enjoys the wet tightness of your mouth around him, the hesitant licks. It’s not that he doesn’t appreciate someone who knows exactly what they’re doing in a blowjob - but something about you, and this? Something about knowing he’s the first man to have your mouth like this, to guide you through these motions? Nothing could compare.
He almost doesn’t want to pull out. He almost wants to keep going - to see your surprise when he comes in your mouth, to implore you to swallow and call you such a good little thing, to shower you in praise until you’re dizzy and drunk from it - but . . . ah. Who knows when he’ll have the luxury of this much time with you again? And you keep shifting on your knees, your chest heaving, surprised by your own arousal . . .
It would be a hard heart indeed that didn’t let you have the full experience, and Sampo Koski is a soft touch.
“D-did I do a bad job?” You babble, as he pulls his cock out of your mouth. It slaps softly and wetly against the plump fullness of your cheek and Sampo swallows back more thoughts of hitting your pretty face with it until you pout and beg him to put it back in, to choke you on it, to ‘please please please let me make you come Mr Koski--’
“Nah,” he says, affectionate and easy. “Not at all, sweetheart. I just . . . have other things I want to show you.” Your face is open and hopeful as he leans down again and takes your jaw in his hand. “Tell me something.”
“Anything,” you breathe to him, and he thinks that he could make you spill every secret in your pretty little head right there and then.
“Are you wet for me, angel?”
Your eyes widen, and he chuckles again. Your gaze flutters shyly around the room, away from Sampo’s own - but he doesn’t let go of your chin. He jerks it just so; not too hard, just enough to be playful. He doesn’t really need you to say it - not from the reaction you just had - but . . .
“C’mon,” he says again, smiling crookedly. “Tell me. I’m not gonna think less of you.”
You swallow. He raises one eyebrow.
“Do I need to check for myself?” He asks you, and shoots you a wink. “Stand up.” You follow the order helplessly, breathlessly, still just a little too shy to put word to the feelings that Sampo is pulling forth from you. His hand slides over the fullness of your thighs, and you reflexively push them together and win another laugh from him. “Don’t be shy,” he says. “Spread your legs. C’mon. I’ll be upset if you aren’t, y’know!”
You let out a slow breath as you follow his order and his palm curves around your thigh, as his fingers slide up and tease the seam of your sex - and Sampo follows suit, a satisfied exhale as he finds you hot and slick. He lets his fingers slip between the plump lips of your sex and wins a soft little ‘oh!’ of surprise, a flutter of your lashes. His cock twitches again.
He fondles you for a few moments; lets his middle finger slide to your entrance, tease it and draw circles around it. You bite your lip again, but you spread your thighs further apart to allow him better access, breath hitching as he slides just the tip of one finger inside of you. His smile doesn’t falter as he looks at you.
“Sweetheart,” he says to you, voice like smooth silk. He sinks his finger in further, to his knuckle - you’re tight but wet, and you take it easily. “You’re soaking.”
“I--I--” You falter, almost ashamed, and Sampo lets his eyes go half-lidded. There’s a whine to your voice that Sampo knows well. “Mr Koski--”
“Sampo,” he corrects you. His smile is rakish. “Mr Koski’s cute and all, but . . . not when I’ve got my fingers buried inside of you, yeah?”
“Sampo,” you breathe out, and he gently moves his finger; pumps it in and out of you a few times and enjoys the sight of your thighs flexing, of your body shivering. Your nipples are hard in the cool air, the tremble of your body a siren’s call to throw you onto the thin little mattress. He lets his thumb ghost across the swollen nub of your clit and you let out a strangled noise of pleasure, a whimper that’s so close to a moan he can taste it.
“That’s right,” he says. “Let’s get you on the bed.”
You’re pliable to all of his pushing, all of his touching - obedient to a fault, as he kisses your cheeks and props your hips with pillows and lets his hands stroke all over your body, learning the most sensitive places. The soft noise of surprise when he digs his thumbs into the indent of your waist, the inhale when he grasps your hips, the flutter of your lashes when his lips brush across your stomach . . . he commits them to memory. Part of the fun of taking someone as sweet as you is teaching them all the pleasures they didn’t know their body was capable, and Sampo is a thorough man.
You tremble for him so sweetly, when he finally has you caged beneath him.
“You’re beautiful,” he says, again, and delights in the way you shiver, the shy way you pull away from his gaze. “Don’t hide.” The rub of the head of his cock through your slit, wetting himself in your slick, makes you squirm hot beneath him and gasp in surprise. He repeats the motion, swirling the tip of him against your clit, until you whine and your thighs twitch and he wonders if he could make you come just like this.
Right now, though . . . he doesn’t have the patience.
Your hands curl into the broad muscle of his shoulders as he splits you open on his cock. You cry out, but it’s a noise that’s a culmination of pleasure and surprise as well as just a little sting, and Sampo commits it to memory the same way he tries to commit the velvet cling of your walls and the tight heat and the feeling of you, letting him take you in every way possible.
“Sweetheart,” he says to you, his own words getting lost as months of fantasies and pining and imagining you come rushing to the forefront of his mind. “You feel incredible--”
He might say more. It’s hard to keep track of anything when he gets lost so quickly in the pounding of his cock against your walls and the way you gasp and cling to him as he fucks into you more desperately than he realised he was going to. You’re vice-tight about him, utterly willing to give yourself up and let him show you what to do. He has the sense to slip one hand between you both to play with your clit as he fucks you - Sampo Koski is a gentleman, thank you very much, he might be taking advantage of your naivety but obviously he’s going to make you come, dammit - and you respond to him with helpless, brainless whines and little thrusts of your hips.
You’ve never felt like this before. You’ve touched yourself a few times - thought of Mr Koski a few times, if you’re honest with yourself - but this is new. The feeling of something thick stretching you out, of a handsome man above you sighing and whispering out your name . . . The delicious feeling, too, of doing something you’re not supposed to be doing.
Your orgasm hits first, your body unused to the touches of someone who knows what they’re doing. Sampo is ruthless as you gasp out his name--
(“Mr Ko-- S-Sampo--!” - somehow, the way you trip over the title and replace it is even better than just hearing his name issue forth from your pretty mouth).
His fingers don’t stop working over your clit even as you come, your channel pulsing around him wildly, your spine arching and a cry that’s pure pleasure working itself loose from your throat. All that your peak does is drive Sampo on, teeth grit, hips hungrily fucking into you until he feels himself twitch and his balls draw in tight and hot.
He should pull out. The thought tickles the edges of his consciousness; that he should let his release splatter all over your thighs instead of filling you up with it, letting himself keep fucking it shallowly into your tight little cunt with the weak aftershocks pushing him to carry on thrusting--
But . . . oh. The thought of you beneath him, fucked out and leaking his come. Your virgin sex full to the brim with him, claimed and taken and filled . . .
Sampo groans out your name and shoots rope after rope of his own release inside of you, losing track of anything but the feel of your body and the feeling of conquering something uncharted.
You lie there beneath him, big pretty eyes blinking up at him, cheeks wet with tears of pleasure and surprise and over-stimulation. Your chest heaves against his, your heart rabbiting. Both of your skins sweat-slick where they press against one another.
You look up at him like a hero who’s hung the moon and shown them a brand new world, and Sampo looks down at you like you’re just the cutest damn thing you’ve ever seen, committing the sight of you - fucked for the first time, ruined for the first time, claimed for the first time, and all by him - to memory.
“You did great,” he says to you, and kisses you softly on the forehead. “Thanks for the help, sweetheart.”
He knew what he wanted, and he got it. But looking at you beneath him, remembering all the things he’s fantasised about, taking in how your hero worship doesn’t seem to have ebbed even the slightest bit . . .
Business deals don’t have to be a one-time thing.
#honkai star rail smut#honkai star rail x reader#sampo smut#sampo x reader#corruption kink cw#writing#i am sorry the game has bewitched me#not sfw text#hsr posting#hsr x reader#hsr smut#chubby reader posting
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i just know jayj and john b try to be sooo normal when it comes to you skippin around the chateau in nothing but an itty bitty t shirt and cute panties!!! nervous as hell when you sprawl over the both of them for a movie night or even just take off your shirt one day out on the boat. both of them somewhere behind the wheel just intensely staring at you, trying to play is so cool and failing tremendously - 🍓
˚˖𓍢ִִ໋🍭🐬🩷˚˖𓍢ִ✧˚.
you could be so oblivious sometimes. you lived with two guys, two guys you are dating — and still maintained your pristine halo, dancing around the chateau to the low hum of the radio, cleaning up last nights mess of beer cans and pizza boxes, all whilst wearing a t-shirt roughly three sizes too small, and a pair of panties, the bow in the centre just tempting a hand to come and tug at it.
john b and jj were used to you— sure, they’d seen you naked a bunch of times, and in underwear, and in a bikini, and so on— but there was something just so devious about this combination of garments that they couldn’t look away. they both felt it, that boyish stare they’d both do everytime you’d glide past them, dropping their eyes to your tits and then bending at the neck to watch your ass bounce with each step when you’re passed, it was quite the sight to see.
john b whistled casually once you finally settled down to watch a movie with them, an invite that always ends in nudity — the pattern never seeming to occur to you when you’d happily agree. “lookin’ good, pup.” the brunette hummed as you settled down on the couch between them. you greet him with a sloppy kiss to his cheek.
“thanks jb.” you chirp innocently before jj is instantly turning your face with his hand and tapping his cheek.
“i see you. playing favourites.” he accuses lightheartedly as you giggle, delivering a kiss to his cheek too. he turns his face, lips smacking yours and he gropes greedily at your tits making you squeal against him.
“where are your manners, jj?” you tsk, faux appalled as john b scrolls through netflix to find the movie you’d been discussing earlier.
“oh, long gone. soon as you put that lil’ outfit on.” he smirks, and you hide yourself shyly, masking your smile as you turn to the tv, the movie starting up.
you’ll admit, you felt the eyes, the attention, the clear admiration of your little get up. the boys were clearly just in a mood that day, all riled up and touching you at any chance they got throughout the movie. the extra attention and ego boost went straight to your panties, plus — the movie was a little boring.
you shift uncomfortably, kicking the blanket draped over your legs off onto the ground making john b tsk.
“wanna stretch out.” you groan, feigning discomfort before repositioning yourself before jj could make some kind of innuendo about the remark, laying on your stomach across the two of them— cheek laying on your hand on john b’s lap, innocently watching the tv, and your bottom half raised on jj’s lap, his hand instantly cupping the thigh meat below your ass.
“comfortable?” john b smirks, a knowing timbre to his voice.
“very.” you hum in satisfaction, watching — or pretending atleast to watch the movie.
you were in bliss, john b going from massaging the back of your neck to cupping your cheek and rubbing his thumb comfortingly along your skin, your eyes fluttering closed. jj was getting busy too, groping and squeezing at your ass cheeks, occasionally offering little smacks to watch the fat ripple on his lap, a deep and quiet ‘mmmhm.’ leaving his throat.
“you know, as intriguing as this movie is… i got something way more interesting right here on my lap.” jj teases, looping his pointer finger into your panties and slowly peeling them aside, revealing the gooey, sticky mess you’d made of your folds. “uh-huh, would you look at that.” he smirks, rubbing a thumb through it all like he just couldn’t help himself.
you release a quiet moan against john b’s palm and he grins all soft and loverboy-esque like the act is totally innocent. “can never just ask for what you want, can you?” he muses, no threat of punishment to his voice whatsoever. he stretches his arms, lazy and languid before rolling his shoulders, smiling readily.
“cant ask, m’shy…” you rub your cheek against his thigh, wide eyes trained on where he’s hardening through his shorts. john b follows your gaze and starts to rub at himself, waking up the cock that was going to make you cry.
“wrong, shy girls don’t have two boyfriends.” jj pushes a finger inside you lazily, curling it up to the spot you need him making you whine. “nah, you’re somethin’ else.”
you take over from john b’s hand, your own curious palm stroking him through the fabric as he sighs, tipping his head back onto the couch headrest with a pleased smirk. “what am i, jayj?” you pout, turning to look over your shoulder, brows furrowed as you hump back against his finger. jj stares at the sight as if in a trance, eyes locked in and tongue poking out to swipe habitually at his bottom lip.
“i’on know. but i like it. a lot.”
˚˖𓍢ִִ໋🍭🐬🩷˚˖𓍢ִ✧˚.
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Better Than Revenge
Kinktober Day 7- Fear Play
warnings: DEAD DOVE DO NOT EAT- noncon, kidnapping, violence, drugging, mentions of sexual assault, revenge porn, non-consensual picture taking, stalking, forced breeding, blackmail, AFAB!reader, bondage, humiliation, pain play, degradation, vaginal fingering, loss of virginity, unprotected sex, 18+ minors DNI
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You enjoyed your time at college. You made many new friends, partied, joined clubs, and learned a little along the way. It was fun for a freshly eighteen-year-old, but by the time the end of your senior year came, you were ready to move on to adult life. Since then, you don’t think about college much in your daily life. Your college friends are now just your friends, and your better days are still to come, not behind you.
That’s not to say you never think fondly back on a memory or two here and there, but you’re so busy with your job at the DA’s office that you don’t have time to be hung up on the past. Others, you’ve found, do still live in the past.
Dr. Jonathan Crane, the chief psychiatrist at Arkham took notice of you when you first started working for the DA. Crane was not well-liked by your boss, seeing as he always managed a way to get the criminals you were trying to put behind bars an insanity plea. While he was a frustrating legal enemy, you never had anything to do with the man outside of the courtroom, or so you thought.
After a long day of court and debating with Crane, you were walking home from the office late when a metal pipe cracked over your head and you fell to the wet pavement, out cold. When you woke, you found yourself in a damp, cold warehouse with Dr. Crane looking on from a chair, dressed in a lab coat. Fear spikes in your stomach when you see the man in front of you. Being in your position, there’s only one explanation for why he would be here as well, though you can’t imagine why.
You are bound and gagged; your arms are wrenched in an uncomfortable position above your head and your wrists are tied to a chain from the ceiling. Your mouth is covered with duct tape, effectively suppressing any screams. Your toes just barely touch the floor, which puts a horrible strain on your arms, but there is no use fighting against the bonds.
When Crane notices you regain consciousness, he stands from his chair and approaches you. He gets close to your face and looks into your slightly hazy and unfocused eyes, his own piercing ones making you tremble under his gaze.
“Don’t struggle, you’ll hurt yourself,” he says, voice eerily soothing for a kidnapper. “You know, it’s dangerous for a girl like you to walk alone at night. This city’s a dangerous place, you never know what kind of creeps could be lurking in the shadows.”
He grins a sick, vile grin that makes your skin crawl. Crane reaches out and tips your chin up with his cold pointer finger. He moves your face from side to side, examining you, checking for any damage he might have done. His thumb traces the duct tape over your mouth, finding the seam of your lips and touching you like a doll.
“I’m surprised you’ve kept your looks with how you used to party,” he says casually. You furrow your brows in confusion but you’re unable to question him. “Though I’m sure your liver isn’t what it used to be.”
Before you can ponder his words, Crane walks behind you and you can hear the sound of metal tools clattering together. When he reappears, he is holding a pair of sheers and wears a sadistic smirk. He roughly grabs the hem of your blouse and cuts it up the middle, exposing your bra. He then cuts the fabric of the sleeves so the garment falls to the floor, leaving you topless.
You want to fight back to get this sick creep off of you, but you figure it’s best not to provoke the man with scissors against your skin. Instead, you’re subjected to his eyes ogling you.
“What a thing to wear to work,” he says, amused. “I’m sure this can’t be comfortable. Were you wearing it for an occasion?” he asks, fingers tracing the delicate lace of the band. “Surely not a date. I know you don’t have a boyfriend, and I don’t think you’re the type of girl to put out on the first date.”
You wonder how he could know you don’t have a boyfriend when the realization hits you. He knew what path you took on your way home, he knew what time you’d be leaving the office, and he knew details of your private life that you haven’t shared with anyone but your friends. He’s been stalking you.
“Maybe you had other plans for lunch with your boss this afternoon. Dent is quite the looker, and I’ve seen the way he looks at you. What his poor wife doesn’t know won’t hurt her, right?” he asks with a smirk. “You really haven't changed.” You’re not sure what he means by that, but you’re not sure what any of this means.
Crane then moves the sheers to the hem of your skirt and makes a small cut. Instead of cutting all the way up like he did with your blouse, he drops the scissors, grasps the skirt, and starts to slowly tear it. The sound of the fabric ripping is deafening in the near-silent warehouse, and fear threatens to rise in your throat as he creeps up your thigh. His eyes watch the exposed skin intently as he undresses you, clearly gaining some kind of pleasure from this. When he reaches the top, he lets the skirt fall at your feet and now has an unobstructed view of your matching underwear set.
“Oh,” he chuckles, “what a surprise. I guess you did have big plans.”
He slips his finger underneath the elastic band of your panties and snaps them back against your hip, making you jump. Your skin breaks out in goosebumps from the cold air and you squirm as you try in vain to hide yourself.
“You don’t mind if I look under these, do you?” he asks, tugging on your panties again.
Up to this point, you haven’t protested, figuring it was better to cooperate, but you can’t let him violate you like this. You let out a muffled “no” and violently shake your head as you try to move away from his touch. Crane only laughs and moves closer to you. You kick him in the knee and he curses, but it doesn’t do much to deter him.
“You can’t fight me off. All you’re doing is making this worse for yourself,” he hisses. You try to scream, but with the duct tape sealing your lips, it’s no use. “Do you have something to say?”
You plead with your eyes and he reaches up to grasp the edge of the duct tape, but he takes it as an opportunity to be more cruel. He rips the tape from your lips, surely taking skin with it.
“Help!” you scream, “Somebody help me!”
Instead of ordering you to be quiet or suppressing your screams, Crane just laughs.
“Scream all you want, no one’s going to hear you. Not like anyone would care if the world was down one useless bimbo anyway.”
“What the fuck is wrong with you? Why are you doing this to me?” you shout, your throat feeling raw from the strain.
Anger flashes in Crane’s eyes and his jaw clenches. You continue to thrash and scream, and despite what he said about no one caring, he tightly grabs your waist and steps on your foot to keep you from moving. His face is now only inches from yours and you get the idea to spit into his face. It won’t do much, but it’s the only thing you can do to deter him.
Crane hisses and lets go of your waist to wipe the spit out of his eyes, and when he looks back at you, his eyes are glassy and his dark eyelashes are clumped together.
“You fucking bitch,” he bites. “You’re lucky I haven’t hurt you yet.”
The vague threat does frighten you, but you have many questions that you demand answers to.
“Why the fuck are you doing this to me, Crane?” you ask again.
He laughs bitterly. “Of course you don’t know. You probably have no clue what you’ve done to me. The hell you put me through.”
He leans his weight on the foot crushing yours and when you wince, he grabs your jaw tightly, squishing your cheeks together and forcing your mouth open.
“I don’t know,” you say as best you can.
“You don’t remember college?” he asks. “Your sorority sisters and their fucking jock boyfriends tormenting me. How for years you made my life a living hell just for existing outside of your perfect little bubble.”
His face is twisted into a snarl now as he recounts the memories that drove him to his actions tonight. “I thought the bullying would be over when I got to college but it was so much worse. My door would get vandalized every fucking day with insults and crude images. You and your group of whores spread all kinds of rumors that I was crazy. You said I was a psychopath, a pervert, a sadistic killer who got off on seeing women in fear. Everyone believed it. Everyone.”
As he explained his story, your memory was jogged. You remember a short, skinny guy from college who wore thick-framed glasses and carried a satchel to class. He was awkward, made uncomfortable eye contact, and often made himself the target of ridicule. He had a vast knowledge of science and medicine and was very interested in the mind’s reaction to fear. You never knew his name, only ever referring to him as “Peeping Tom”, which was kind in comparison to some of your friends’ nicknames for him.
“I was an outcast for four fucking years. I couldn’t transfer, I couldn’t afford any other school. Not like you could ever understand that. I accepted that I was a social pariah, but then you went and ruined my fucking life even more,” he hisses.
You didn’t notice the knife in his hand until the point was against your chest, too lost in his rage-filled eyes. You now remember more of what he’s saying and you want to apologize and assure him that you’ve changed, but he seems past the point of reason.
“October 2nd, 1997. I was in my room studying for an exam when you showed up at my door. You were clearly drunk and you came onto me. You promised me all kinds of things and pushed me onto my bed and sat on my lap. You kissed me and took off my shirt, then put your hand down my pants and took my dick out. That’s when your hoard of sluts and every guy you’ve ever fucked barged into my room and took pictures. They spread them to everyone, and it was all because of you.” he hissed. “I was labeled the creep, the predator, the pathetic virgin who thought he could make it with a sorority girl and it was all your fault.”
The man in front of you was shaking with anger, his voice trembling slightly as he recounted the memory. The blade trembled in his hand and dug slightly into your skin, but the pain from the knife was overpowered by the icy feeling of fear.
“Jonathan,” you say meekly, “That was almost a decade ago. I-I’m so sorry I did that to you, I don’t even remember it. I promise I’ve changed.”
“You don’t remember it, that’s exactly why I have to do this. You’re never going to forget again.”
You whimper in fear as he brings the knife up to your neck. The blade bites at your skin, catching when you take a breath.
“Please don’t kill me,” you whisper with your eyes squeezed shut.
“Oh, I’m not going to kill you. That’d be such a waste of a warm hole.”
His words are disgusting and degrading. They make you want to shiver out of your own skin and run as far away from him as possible. Luckily, he removes the knife from your neck and takes a small step back.
Crane reaches into his pants pocket and takes out a small digital camera. Your eyes widen when you see it, immediately catching on to what he plans to do to you. He powers the camera on and points it at you, smiling when he sees your pixilated form on the display. He clicks the shutter and a light flashes.
He lowers the camera from his face to reveal a wicked smirk. "It doesn't feel too good, does it?" he asks. "Well it's about to get a lot worse for you."
He kicks your bare ankle with his foot, making you wince as your legs spread. He laughs cruelly and does the same to the other foot. Your legs are open uncomfortably, giving him easy access to what you're desperate to hide from him.
His fingers, long and cold, push through your folds and into your cunt without warning or preparation. He fingers you despite being dry to start, but you slowly get wetter in response to the intrusion.
"Still such a slut even after all this time," he says. "I'm not surprised you're so loose."
He fingers you roughly, seemingly unsure of how to do it, or maybe he just cares that little for your comfort. His nails catch on the ridges inside of you and the poking of his fingers scissoring make you wince. Thankfully he got his fill of that quickly, and pulled out his wet fingers.
He brings them to his nose to sniff, then wipes your wetness off on his pants. "Smells like whore," he says.
Without any further words, Crane reaches down and grabs you by your ankle and pulls it off the floor. You yelp as you lose your balance and your bonds tug on your shoulders. Crane then hooks your foot on a strap that also comes from the ceiling. He then does the same to your other leg.
Now you're suspended in the air, cunt on display for him and helpless. Crane takes out the camera again and takes more pictures of you spread out.
"I have waited so long for this."
Crane wears a sick, wicked grin that does not falter as stands between your spread legs. His hands work his fly open and quickly he frees his cock. It's already hard and the flushed tip is leaking, just from the torture he's inflicting onto you.
"I knew after that night that you would be my first," he says as he rubs his head through your folds. "Weather you wanted to be or not."
Your breath catches in your throat when he pushes into you bare. He goes slow, likely for his own sake so he doesn’t cum too soon, but whatever mercy he shows you doesn’t provide any comfort.
Once he’s fully seated inside of you, he begins to rut. Erratic, inexperienced thrusts to chase his own pleasure inside of being conscientious of yours. His eyes are half lidded and laser-focused on your breasts.
“Fuck,” he hisses.
With each thrust, the makeshift sex swing he has you in rocks, making the chains that hold you creak. You worry that you’re going to fall, but you suppose that would be better than a knife in your gut.
Crane’s cock bumps against your cervix which makes you whimper from the discomfort, but he thinks it’s out of pleasure.
“You like that? You like taking my cock like a fucking fleshlight? Didn’t think you’d be so easy, but I guess all it took back then was a spot on the football team to get into your pants.”
Crane is indeed using you like a fleshlight. He alternates between thrusting into you and holding onto the chains to move you over his cock. It’s humiliating, painful, awful, but he’s no longer threatening you with a knife.
He pulls out the camera again and points the lens at your pussy where it’s stretched around him. Then he backs up the camera a bit to capture your full form, contorted by the chains.
“W-what are you gonna do with those?” you ask with your broken voice.
“Exactly what you did to me,” he growls.
“No! No, please, you can’t do that.”
He grabs the chains and slams you down onto him, sending him impossibly deeper.
“You ruined my life. Now it’s your turn.”
“My career will be over! Please, I’ll do anything, just don’t send those to anyone!”
You’re begging shamelessly, sobbing and snotty, but none of this seems to turn him off. In fact, he seems to enjoy it more.
“I’m sure Dent would be interested to see what you get up to after hours. Of course, your reputation would be ruined once the rest of the city sees your messy cunt.”
All you can do is cry and shake your head.
“I know you’re good friends with Bruce Wayne. Maybe I’ll tell everyone that he did this to you and ruin you both. Wouldn’t that be sweet,” he says.
His voice is raspy and low; he’s clearly very affected by the pleasure of using you and you doubt he can hold on for much longer.
“I-I’ll do anything, Dr. Crane. Please,” you say between sobs.
“Hmm,” he hums.
Crane grabs your breast roughly and squeezes, digging his nails into your soft skin. You hiss and your face screws up with pain. He then slaps it repeatedly until you show signs of more discomfort.
“Please,” you beg again.
“It might be nice to have a friend at the DA’s office,” he says with a smirk. “Especially one that would bid in my favor, lest some dirty pictures get out.”
Blackmail? Jesus, he’s fucking sick. Though you suppose the threat of releasing them is better than him actually doing it.
“Yes, yes, I’ll do it. I’ll help you out, just please don’t send them,” you say frantically.
He fucks you even more erratically now, like he can’t decide if he should edge or finish himself off.
“Are you scared?” he asks, voice frighteningly low. You nod in response. “You’re scared of me, the loser you tormented in college? Don’t you regret that?”
He’s speaking so quiet and slowly like he’s trying to hypnotize you. You nod along with what he’s saying, figuring it’s better just to agree.
“You’ll regret it for the rest of your life. Every time you look at our bastard child, you’ll see my face and regret what you did to me.”
That catches your attention. Our child?
“W-what?”
“You thought I kidnapped you just to cum in my hand? I’m gonna fill you up until you’re leaking with my fucking cum. Oh, and you know that little pill you take every day? I switched that out weeks ago. This little womb is as fertile as ever, and you’re going to give me a baby.”
Your stomach flips and you immediately feel nauseous. He tampered with your birth control? That means he was in your house. He could have put cameras up, bugged the place. You have no idea what he’s truly capable of.
Tears being to stream down your cheeks again. You feel so violated, so helpless. He doesn’t wipe away your tears or even tell you to stop crying. He just watches as he fucks you.
“I’m gonna cum,” he growls. “And you’re gonna take it all.”
He leans forward to press his forehead to yours, forcing you to look deep into his eyes as he fills you with his cum. The wet, hot feeling of it flooding your insides makes you feel sick, and he continues to fuck himself through his orgasm which makes the cum froth and leak down your holes.
He stays seated inside you, keeping you plugged so the sperm has time to take. Crane is breathing heavily but he doesn’t once look away from you.
"Good girl," he mutters. "Good pussy."
You sag in relief when he finally pulls out. Your cunt aches from his rough treatment, and not in the fun way. Your arms and legs hurt from the bonds, but that appears to be a pain you won't soon be free from.
Crane walks back over to the chair he was sitting in when you first woke up and takes a seat. "I'll keep you here for a couple days so you can't go off and take one of those pesky morning after pills," he says casually.
"Y-you can't. They'll notice when I don't show up for work," you try to reason with him.
"Oh, don't worry about that. I called on your behalf and told them you had a family emergency. Something about grandma and her heart," he says. "I've taken care of everything."
You don't doubt that he has, and that scares you. He rests his ankle on the opposite knee and looks at the pictures he took on the camera.
"Now all you have to do is stay out of my way in court, and no one will ever see these," he grins, letting the camera dangle from his wrist by the strap.
You nod in understanding. "Good girl."
#jonathan crane#jonathan crane x reader#scarecrow x reader#scarecrow#dc scarecrow#nolanverse#jonathan crane headcanon#jonathan crane fanfic#jonathan crane fanfiction#jonathan crane smut#cillian murphy smut#cillian murphy#cillian murphy x reader#kinktober#kinktober 2023
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The Fitting Room Is This Way
I got the inspiration for this story from a GIF, which must have been a looped clip taken from a video called "Abducted". I used a generative AI platform to create a couple of the images - not bad for a first effort?
“Why don't you just try something on? I think it look like a second skin on you and will suit you very much. Here, the fitting room is this way…”
"Errrrrrm," was about all I could muster as a reply. I tore my eyes away from the rails of black and multicoloured rubber that had absorbed my attention for more minutes than I care to say. I turned my head to see what I can only describe as an attractive young male with orange and green hair, multiple piercings and more tattoos than I'd ever seen on a body. I'm not usually stuck for words, but this time I was.
It was the first time I'd ever crossed the threshold of any adult store, let alone a fetish store. I was actually on a business trip to the city for a couple of days to meet with a bunch of different customers. I'd arranged to meet one of them for dinner this evening, but something had come up and they had to cancel. With time on my hands, my curiosity got the better of me. I walked the short distance from the hotel into what people might describe as a 'seedy' part of the city and walked through one of two doorways that would change my life - forever.
"Look, you've been gawking at these garments for at least ten minutes, so something must have piqued your interest," the shop assistant said grinning in a somewhat sinister way.
The truth is he was absolutely right. I had a real fetish for rubber, but it wasn't something I could share. If I didn't use an incognito browser, a casual glance at my web history would show me landing on websites with videos and pictures of men in rubber and stories of men being turned into rubbermen, from beasts to slaves.
The assistant looked me up and down, "yes I can see why you are captivated by the rubber suits - so much more exciting than a business suit to wear, and it will hug and show off your best bits," he giggled to himself as he grabbed two or three suits off the rails.
"Right one of these will be perfect for you. It will feel like a second skin. So much so, that I don't think you'll ever want to take it off."
There was that ominous grin again.
"Follow me. It's this way to the fitting room"
He walked deeper into the basement and towards a set of dark doors. Was there a fitting room really this way? I'd never been in a fetish store before but I'd read a few stories about what was inside. He pushed on the door, it opened slowly. Very little light emanated from inside. “Come on”, he said jovially. I followed like a puppy dog follows its mother.
Inside the room I could just about make out the shapes of muscular men in shiny dark clothing. Several hands grabbed me, restraining me before I knew what was happening. At first I struggled against my captors but one came up to me and held a mask over my nose and mouth; I heard a hissing sound. I felt a kind of euphoria cone over me. My struggles evaporated and I allowed myself to be led deeper into the room. Now that I was next to these men I could tell they were wearing similar outfits to the ones I’d seen on the rails back in the shop, and their heads were enclosed in some kind of hood/gas mask combination.
I looked at the assistant standing there holding the rubber suits whilst I was stripped of my clothing. Now naked, they started rubbing what I can only describe as an oily cream all over me. One of the dark rubber-suited men walked over to the assistant, who handed him one one of the rubber suits. He walked back towards me and took the suit off the hanger. Two other lifted my left foot off the floor and he started sliding it in, then they put my foot back on the floor and he repeated the process with the right foot.
Then it was a simple process; to gently and very erotically guide the rubber suit all the way up my body. As they did they smoothed out any bumps, making sure the rubber clung to every millimetre of my body. Just before the suit covered my groin, I looked down to see one of the men fitting a device over my cock and felt another slide something into my arse. At first he struggled, so he squeezed something onto it and started pushing at my sphincter. At first it met a resistant from a hole that had only known 'one-way' traffic. suddenly I felt a ‘pop’ and my arse felt 'nice and full' (where did that come from).
The men carried on smoothing the rubber suit as they pulled it up my torso until it reached my chest. Then, one at a time my arms were fed into the suit. The shop assistant walked up to me and fitted what I can only describe as mitts over my hands. I stood there, a spectator in my own body, watching as the flesh was covered with black latex. Then the suit was zipped up to my neck. I felt a mild construction and heard a snap. The assistant walked around in front of me and held up a broken zip. His grin now a haunting smile.
Before I could react I felt something rubbery being brought to my face, I could see lenses and a place for my nose to fit in. I started breathing more rapidly as a sense of unease started to build. Despite my fears I allowed the men to fit the mask over my face, the mask seemed to be part of a hood because the next thing I sense was a zip being pulled from the top of my head down to meet the top of the suit at my neckline. My head now felt as constricted as my body.
Through the lenses I could see my captors. Then I heard voices in my ears. Mini speakers in the hood activated, “welcome brother, welcome to the nest. From here we grow, we spread, we convert and we conquer.”
There was just white noise now. The lenses darkened and my vision blacked out. Then instantly there were spirals, shapes and words imprinted on the lenses. Voices in my head said, “Rubberdrone”, “obey”, “comply”, “convert”. Over and over the words bombarded my head until...nothing. My own thoughts stopped. The lenses cleared to let this newly created rubberdrone see the room again, the voices in my ears stopped.
In front of me were half a dozen rubber drones lined up. To the side I could recognise the shop assistant. I instinctively knew to join at the back of the line. The assistant opened the door and we started moving forward.
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Only an Almost (I)
Chapter 1 : For the Best
Hello!! Here is a new series! I’ve already finished writing and proofreading it, and I’ll be posting two chapters per week! I hope you’ll like it!
Please, tell me what you think!
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Pairing: Hozier x fem!reader, friends with benefits AU
Warning: No explicit smut or nsfw content, but there are sexual themes and heavy make-out sessions (it’s a friends with benefits AU, I can’t really escape it), so 18+ only!
Summary: Andrew has been in love with you for years, and yet he has never confessed his feelings. But a night out celebrating the engagement of his best friend changes everything. However, you don't seem ready to be with him just yet. You make him an offer that he can't refuse... but will certainly regret.
Word Count : 2739
Masterlist for the series – Hozier’s Masterlist – Main Masterlist
It was a logical decision.
That’s what Andrew kept telling himself. As he watched you pick up your clothes, scattered across his bedroom floor, he forced his mind to form the same thought over and over again.
This is for the best. There’s no choice.
It was part of the deal. You never stayed for the entire night, and he didn’t linger long enough to fall asleep in your arms. Made it easier. Avoiding getting attached, avoiding stepping into any type of complication. You had sex, and then you were gone. On the side, you were good friends.
Best friends.
Something like that. Something in between good and best, he would say. Good didn’t sound strong enough to describe your friendship. It explained why it all happened in the first place, why you started casually hooking up about three months ago. After your first kiss, you decided to establish a simple rule.
If we do this, it can’t be anything but sex. We can’t get attached like this.
Romantically, that’s what you meant by this. And Andrew got it, of course. He spent most of his time abroad, it was the only logical decision. Besides, he had tried before to have serious relationships, but every time the same scheme repeated itself: he would leave for tour, and everything would fall apart. The distance always extinguished the flame. That and the fact that he was so busy he barely had time to sleep, let alone dedicate quality time to anyone. And he understood, of course, he couldn’t complain about being dumped when he spent a grand total of 20 minutes on the phone with his partner in the span of a day, when he got lucky. He got it, the ghostly presence, the lingering pain of being apart, the estrangement that came with the oblivion of the other’s life. He knew what it felt like, and he understood that others were not ready to go through that for him. He wasn’t worthy of it. It was alright…
And he understood that you didn’t want to get dragged into his mess of a life. To be fair, he didn’t want to drag you into this either, and he agreed when you offered this arrangement. He didn’t feel like he had a choice that day, when you made him this offer so casually, in front of a cup of tea. He could have said no, but his feelings for you were way too strong for that. Better have a little bit of you than nothing at all…
Friends by day, sex by night, no romantic feelings. Sounded simple enough.
“Damn… where’s my other sock?”
You looked around frantically, searching for the tiny piece of garment. Andrew spotted it by the door. He didn’t say anything about it.
“You’re coming to Alex’s party tomorrow?” he asked instead, voice a little hoarse after the sounds you had torn from him tonight.
“Hmm… yeah, probably. He’ll have my head if I don’t, anyway.”
“Perhaps not your head, but definitely your sanity.”
“He does hold grudges like no one else…”
Andrew stared as you buttoned your jeans, still searching the room for your lost sock, the one he didn’t help you to find. He readjusted the blanket higher on his torso, feeling self-conscious now that he was the only one left naked.
“Want me to pick you up?” he offered, and you nodded with a grin.
“Yeah, that would be nice! That way I can get properly sloshed.”
He chuckled at that, bathing into the warmth of your laughter, smiling without a thought.
“Oh, and I need to go to your mother’s tomorrow!” you informed him, readjusting your shirt.
His shirt, as a matter of fact. His heart stumbled at the sight…
“Really?”
“Hmm… she wants to take pictures of several objects for her artwork. I’ve volunteered to go around Dublin with her tomorrow afternoon.”
“Thank you.”
“We both know I like Raine better than you. I’m only keeping you around to have her,” you teased, throwing Andrew a mischievous wink.
He tightened his hold on the sheets.
“Oh, I see. You’re only using me to get to her… and I thought you only used me for sex.”
“Don’t flatter yourself,” but he noticed the way you bit your lip, refraining a smile, and how you averted your eyes in shyness, and he loved the sight…
Your eyes fell on the lost item, and you let out a victorious cry picking up your sock, while Andrew swallowed back the lump in his throat.
You sat down on the edge of the bed to put your socks on, and he didn’t think as he sat up, leaning into your form. He didn’t wrap his arms around you, merely rested his shoulder against yours, revelling in the warmth escaping your body.
He pressed his lips to your hair, felt you tensing, saw you stopping your movements.
“Ring me when you’re home, okay? It’s late. Are you too tired to drive?”
“Don’t worry, I’m not that tired,” you answered, voice weaker than before, but he wasn’t sure why. Perhaps because the night was quiet but for the branches of trees singing in the wind outside, and it felt like the world had slowed down, like it was more peaceful than usual. Perhaps because you were uncomfortable. Hard to tell.
He moved away, just in case. Distance cutting your edges and his with cold. And yet Andrew remained but centimetres away.
“Alright. Still, tell me when you’re home, okay? Just to be safe.”
You seemed to relax, he didn’t know if he liked that reaction or not.
“I like it when you do that.”
It sounded like a confession, the words on your lips quiet and velvety, soft to the touch.
“Do what?” he questioned, tilting his head to the side a little.
“Get all worried about me.”
You gave him a smile, one that he offered back with ease.
“Hmm… don’t have a choice. You’re a menace behind the wheel.”
“Am not.”
“Are too! You almost killed us last month!”
“It wasn’t even my fault, there was a fucking sheep running across the road, coming out of nowhere!”
“Can’t believe you’re blaming the fauna for this…”
You both laughed at that, and when you grew quiet again, smile still lingering on your lips, you let your head fall to rest onto his shoulder, and it was Andrew’s time to relax. You lifted your hand to rest upon his chest, right over his heart. For a second, he felt embarrassed at the thought that you would feel how fast his heart was beating, but your palm was too warm against his skin, and he soon couldn’t care enough to worry.
He wrapped an arm around you, holding you close, but not too much, not as much as he would have wanted, too afraid you would push him away.
“I know that… that’s what friends are made for, but still… it’s nice. Thank you, Andy.”
He closed his eyes as he rested his lips against your hair; closed them too tightly, until it hurt.
“You don’t have to thank me for that,” he whispered into your skin, mouth drifting to press against your forehead. “You don’t ever have to thank me for that. I’m here. I’ll always be here.”
You hummed, leaning into him even more, and he felt all your muscles relaxing as he rubbed your back, palm flat against your spine, the curve so familiar under his hand by now.
You heaved a sigh.
“I’ll see you tomorrow?”
“Sure,” Andrew answered without a second thought, not thinking about what he had planned. He would move his schedule around for you anyway.
You looked up at him again, blinked a few times, as if to fall back onto earth. There was something dreamy in your smile.
“Good night, Andy.”
“Good night, Y/N.”
That was another one of your rules: no affectionate pet names.
He leaned down to kiss you, but you turned your cheek to his lips instead, and acted like it was nothing, like he had never been aiming for your mouth in the first place.
Third rule: no kissing without sex.
The next second, you were standing, walking towards the door. He stared as you walked out, listened to the padding of your feet on the tiles, the creaking of his staircase. He waited until the front door closed, and he let himself fall back into his pillows.
It was a logical decision, he didn’t have a choice.
Andrew, you absolute fool…
His mother was worried, which meant that Andrew was worried.
She was smiling at you as if nothing was wrong, as if the sunny afternoon truly was as bright as the beams coming across the green leaves of his parents’ garden trees.
Andrew was not fooled though. He knew his mother too well not to see the signs, to be blind to her slight frown, to the drifting downwards of her gaze, to the worried lip she kept biting on.
Raine didn’t say a word while you were here though, and it only worried Andrew more. You were a friend of the family; almost part of the family at this point. You were close enough to Andrew’s parents and brother to spend time with them on your own, just to see them. And they invited you often as well. If Raine wasn’t saying anything in front of you, it ought to mean that this was serious, that something terrible was happening. His thoughts drifted to his father…
“Andy? You’re okay?”
He blinked up at you, soothing the frown he had not noticed across his brow. He gave you a reassuring smile.
“Sure, why?”
“I don’t know… you look… worried. Is there something wrong?”
“No, nothing’s wrong. I was just lost in thought.”
You narrowed your eyes a little at him, clearly unconvinced, but Andrew shot you a smile, asked a question to draw the conversation back to you, and you yielded.
It was such a sweet afternoon, after all. You had spent some time taking pictures for Raine, and somehow had found your way to her garden, with tea and biscuits, a little high on sunlight and laughter. It was lovely. It almost felt like you and Andrew were not friends, almost like you were in your own family home. He pushed that thought away quickly though, taking a sip of tea and regretting that there was no burning effect of alcohol when he swallowed.
When you left to go home, Andrew was aware that he held you too tightly, for too long, that he let his lips linger against your cheek for more than a mere peck. But you didn’t push him away, and so he leaned further, allowed himself to be close, just for a moment.
You hugged Raine, promising to come back the following week for an artsy afternoon, and left as the sun abandoned the sky.
Andrew was washing the teacups when he finally asked his mother what was bothering her.
“Nothing, honey,” she reassured him, but he shook his head and gave her a hard look.
“Come on. Don’t lie to me. I know there’s something on your mind. Are dad and you okay?”
“Oh, darling… of course, we are. Don’t worry about us, we’re both fine. No, it’s… it’s you I’m worried about.”
Andrew couldn’t refrain a laugh, a mixture of relief and surprise.
“Me? Why would you be worried about me? I’m good.”
“Are you, though?”
She gave him that look, the one that pierced him to his soul, the one he couldn’t run away from. The one he knew would claim the truth, in the end. He felt like a child when she looked at him like that, like he had just stolen a cookie from the jar and was caught red-handed as he tried to hide the proof of his crime.
“I’m fine, mom. Don’t worry about me, I’m okay. I really am.”
But her gaze only hardened. Not in a cold way, on the contrary. It was a gaze of steel in its firmness, but that held all the love she had for him. His heart sank at the sight.
“Don’t lie. I know there’s something off between you and Y/N.”
Andrew struggled to swallow, looked away, fleeing. He stared at his hands still holding a teacup, and he noticed it was yours. There were traces of your lipstick on the edge of the pale porcelain. He traced it with his fingers absent-mindedly.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he replied, but his lie was obvious, his voice too low, too weak. In the sink, his fingers pushed the cup into the water, disappearing under soapy bubbles, and he left them there, in the warmth of the water, staring at the flesh that had disappeared, at your trace that was gone but that he hadn’t erased yet.
“Andy… you know that you can tell me anything. I’m your mother. You can always tell me anything that bothers you. That’s my job to help you. And I’m great at it.”
Her joke made them both chuckle, but he didn’t look at her. He rubbed at the stained spot on the cup instead, but blindly so, unable to see the destruction of your lips over the edge of the porcelain.
“I don’t know… it’s a little weird,” he whispered, struggling to find the right words and hating that about himself. How it was so much easier to write things down than to speak out words. They felt heavy on his tongue, had a wrong taste in his mouth.
“Why? What happened? Did you two fight?”
“No… no, we didn’t fight.”
“What is it, then?”
“We… We’re sleeping together.”
Raine stared at her son with wide eyes, her mouth dropping open. He chuckled at her reaction; clearly, she hadn’t been expecting that…
“What? When? How? What?”
“You’ve asked that one twice.”
“Wait, I don’t understand… if you two are finally being intelligent and are together, why do you look so sad?”
“I’m not sad.”
She gave him a look that was silently saying ‘I’ve birthed you, do not lie to me’.
He looked away again, tried to ignore the finally part of her question.
“We’re sleeping together. We aren’t together.”
“Oh…”
She seemed disappointed, leaned her back against the counter.
“How long?” she asked, after a heavy and lingering silence.
“A few months.”
“And you’re not dating her?”
“No, we’re not dating.”
“But you’re hanging out with her during the day, and sleeping with her at night.”
“Yeah.”
He struggled to swallow, cheeks turned crimson.
“Why on earth would you want that?”
She was blunt, as usual, but there was so much love in her question. So much worry for her son. Andrew wasn’t fooled, she was direct because she cared too much to circle around the issue.
“I’ve never said that I wanted that,” Andrew admitted in a whisper, feeling tears rise to his eyes, but he blinked them away, clenching his jaw to hold them in check.
“Oh, honey…”
She rubbed his back, her movement soothing. He rolled his eyes.
“Mom, don’t… I’m okay.”
“Casually sleeping with your friend… that’s not a good idea, Andy. Of course, you’re free to do whatever you want. This is your life. And I’ll always be here to support you, no matter what. Still…”
She heaved a sigh, but her son remained silent, and so she went on.
“You are too generous when you love, Andy. Be careful. Take care of yourself. For once, take care of yourself, before you take care of her. Can you do that for me?”
He finally pulled your cup out of the water. Your lipstick was gone, there was only the perfect white of the porcelain left under his thumb.
“Don’t worry about me, mom. I’m okay.”
“I know how you feel for her. This kind of… arrangement… it won’t end well for you.”
“Don’t be dramatic. I agreed to this. I’m okay with us just being casual, with nothing serious happening between us.”
But one did not fool a mother so easily. She gave him a look that let him know she understood him better than he did himself. And he had no doubt she was right about that.
Still, he put down the cup by the side of the sink to dry, picked up another, and washed the tea away again.
#andrew hozier byrne#hozier#the hoziest#hozier x reader#hozier x fem!reader#hozier x y/n#hozier x you#hozier fanfiction#hozier fanfic#hozier series#series#writing#fanfiction#fanfic
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Goo Kim x Reader: Dating (feat. Gun)
G/N. Requested. Fluff
"Who is this mysterious sexy man?" Goo chuckles, "It's ME!"
He thrusts the trashy tabloid in Gun's face. That ridiculous headline and Goo's mug plastered on the front page, arm around one of the most sought after K-Pop idols.
Mysterious? Sexy?
Gun peers at the photo and thinks that Goo looks like how he always does.
An idiot.
Lips stretched into an open mouthed grin. Eyes crinkled. Hideously garish suit. Stupid bleached hair.
Some of his meagre charm must be doing something though, because the idol's smile reflects his. A touch more sane, a lot more sincere, and very much besotted if the way they're looking at the blonde is anything to go by.
"They're boring though," Goo leans back, studies the idol's face that he is casually bedding and dismisses them.
One word, cutting and cruel: "Next."
.
.
"Either answer it, or turn it off."
"Nope!"
Gun glares at him. The phone continues to vibrate, buzzing noisily on the table.
It stops.
For now-
One..
Two...
Three...
And like clockwork-
It starts ringing again.
Just like it has done for the last ten minutes.
Fuck this. Gun grabs the device and hurls it onto the floor. It smashes with excessive force, a complete overkill, into the marble tiles.
The screen cracks, flashes, then dies.
"You're doing me a favour," Goo taps his long fingers against the table, unconcerned and disinterested, peering out the window, "They were getting clingy."
They being the supermodel that walked the Paris runway last week. Graced the front cover of the September Issue the week before.
It didn't matter.
His interest putters out like it always does. Goo is done with them.
.
.
"Ewwwww, tasteless!"
Gun catches a glimpse of a suit nestled in a gift box, logos of one of the most expensive and exclusive fashion houses adorn the tissue paper.
"Throw it away! Trash it!" Goo instructs and the HNH assistant scurries away.
"Ugh," The blonde pulls a face, as if the lingering presence of the ugly garment is still offending his delicate sensibilities.
Grabs his phone (new and top of the line) out of his pocket and makes a show of blocking someone.
He throws his arm around Gun's shoulder.
"You'd think a chaebol heir-" Stressing chaebol and heir with a smug waggle of the eyebrows, "-would have better taste. I can't be with someone with such awful style!"
Gun pushes him away, "I don't care. Shut up."
.
.
Goo has a new obsession.
Used to let his phone ring out. Used to ghost people for days, weeks, months, before reaching out again. (If he does reach out, that is.) Relish in playing mind games and gaslighting.
Now he picks up after the second ring. Murmurs, voice cooing and sickly sweet, into his phone.
Excuses himself "I have to take this," and walks out of meetings with Charles Choi and the HNH board.
Is unavailable on weekends and evenings. Snaps "I'm busy," when Gun offers the moneymaker a chance to make more money.
Then the new obsession turns into an ongoing obsession.
.
.
Your name flashes on Goo's phone screen.
Your name is one that Gun has, against his will, grown familiar with.
He has heard more than his fair share of your interests and hobbies. How great you are, how talented, how wonderful. The way your hair gleams in the light, how your eyes sparkle when you laugh. How you always beat Goo in games, "Y/N must be cheating!" he would screech.
And, according to Goo, has the most deliciously mean sense of humour. "You could never be as funny as Y/N." Goo sneers, as if it was a competition. As if Gun ever wanted to be seen as funny. Or to make Goo fucking Kim laugh.
Gun couldn't give a shit. Gun couldn't care less. But since when did Goo care what Gun thinks.
So Goo rambles, voice rushed and excited, telling him everything about you even when Gun tells him to shut the fuck up and tries to uppercut him on the jaw.
.
.
"You're getting too attached." Gun tells him one day. Not that Gun cares, but Goo Kim happy is insufferable.
He expects a glare, an insult. Eyes narrowed behind glasses and venom.
Goo's response surprises him. Gun never expected this.
A shrug and a lopsided smile. Goo is resigned to his fate. "Yeah," he agrees.
He knows he is too attached to you, and he has no intention of ever changing that.
#slightly different format with fic requests!#my inbox is overwhelming me#lookism#lookism manhwa#lookism webtoon#lookism x reader#lookism fic#goo kim#goo kim x reader#kim joongoo x reader#kim joongoo#gun park#wannaeatramyeon
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Showtime
JPM x Reader
Summary : You and Liz brainstorm how to spice things up in the bedroom with your husband.. It is a definite success.
CW : SMUT, fem!reader, reader calls james ‘mr.march’, spanking, choking, praise kink, pet names (queen/doll/dear/good girl), biting & marking, rough sex, creampie
A/N : this might not be great but I was rewatching hotel and his cane gave me ideas...
It had been quite a while since you and Liz had a talk. You settled down to gossip with your close friend.
“Y/N, it’s been a while. I thought you would have forgotten about me.” Liz smirked.
“How could I ever! I’ve just been so busy with James and the new.. arrivals. Devil’s Night was such a chore.” You droned on, complaining about how much screaming there was over the course of the night.
“Well that’s to be expected. How are you and James anyways?”
How were you and James? You were fine, splendid actually, but something seemed off. You had thought about it quite a lot this week, coming to the conclusion you needed something to spice up your sex life.
“Good! I just.. I don’t know.” You shrugged and Liz gave you the side eye, setting her book on the counter.
“You don’t know? Darling, are you alright?”
You nodded as she took your hands, giving them a tight squeeze.
“Yes! Don’t worry! I just want to.. spice things up with him. I feel as though he will get bored of me. I want to get something nice for him but I can’t think of what.”
Liz tapped her lips with a pen, her eyes raising as she thought of an idea.
“Y/N, have you ever worn any fancy lingerie for him? Maybe put on a little show?”
Your mind sparked with the idea and you shook your head.
“No! Where would I even get that? That would be perfect.”
Liz waved you away from the kiosk, already getting to planning.
“Don’t worry about it. I’ll get you a nice set to surprise your dear Mr.March.”
—
Liz had done exactly what she promised, going out and buying quite a lovely lingerie set for you. It framed your body perfectly, only adding to your confidence. You slipped your casual clothes over the garments, making your way down the hall. You knew James would be busy with his plans for next year's event.
Your fingers curled around the doorknob, opening it to meet your husbands face. You jumped at the proximity, not expecting him to be so close.
“My dear! I was just coming to fetch you.” His smooth accent sailed through the air, sending currents down your spine. Your finger trailed at his suit hoping to give him the same reaction.
“Were you? Guess I have good timing then.. Mr.March.” You trailed around his form, hands feeling up the taut muscles. His body shook with excitement from the teases, hands coming to clamp down on your wrists.
“Yes.. It seems you were longing for me as much as I was for you.” His suave smirk made heat pool in your stomach, hands starting to roam your shirt. Your breath quickened as his fingers trailed under the the material. His eyes widened when he pawed at the lace that was hidden.
“My my.. What is it that my dear doll has on?” He frisked away at your shirt, abandoning it on the floor without a care. His chestnut hues wracked in the sight of your ample flesh dawned with the silky lace. His wild smile only added to your carnal desire, making you tremble with pleasure.
“You like it? It’s all for you, Mr.March.”
His deep hum filled the silence.
“I do, dear. This is quite the surprise. Step out of those pants and bend over so I can see the whole thing.” His voice was dark and filled with lust. You knew exactly where this was headed.
You followed instructions, popping your ass out so he could get the full view of your body. You felt as if you were on fire. His eyes followed your every curve, searing it into his memory. His rough hand gripped at his cane, holding back at what he wanted.
“You’ve given me such a good present, my pretty girl. I can’t believe you would hide this from me. I think you deserve a punishment, no?”
You could only moan in response, desperate for any kind of touch he could give you. He seemed to like your response, shoveling you against the desk. Your perky ass was still stuck out for him, waiting for his move. You waited for what felt like forever until a long smack hit. Your breath left your mouth as you shook, your ass cheeks swelling against the wood. The metal tip of his cane brushed at your entrance, prodding at the wet spot on your panties.
“Someone enjoys being spanked with a cane? What a naughty girl..” James laughed, your squirming not going unnoticed. His hand smacked against your sore cheek and you bounced at the contact.
“Be good and take a few more. Then we can get to the fun part.”
You nodded as he continued his assault on your ass, tears welling in your eyes at the pain and pleasure. Your body was practically screaming for him, arousal pooling on your thighs.
His cane hit for the last time and then he was everywhere at once. His greedy hands yanked at your ruined panties, revealing your poor pussy.
“God. I need you!” You moaned out as his fingers teased across your thighs, coming dangerously close to your entrance. His thumb pressed against your slick, making a mess of you. He toyed your clit, rubbing at it a few times before puling away. You groaned at the loss of contact, turning to see why he had stopped. James fumbled with his belt, hands jittering with energy. He gave you a grin, lips licking at the arousal on his finger,
“My queen, you’ve been so obedient tonight.. I shall give you what you wish.”
James’ cock rubbed against your folds, slowly pushing in. It felt as if everything else faded as he bottomed out, his calloused hands coming to grip at your neck. His thrusts gained pace as your moans got louder, alerting anyone near his room of what you were up to.
He was animalistic. Lips biting and marking at your skin, smacks blown across any flesh he could reach. His other hand choked you out, watching from the side as your eyes grew larger.
You felt your air leaving as his pace went erratic, the string inside you so close to snapping.
“I-I’m gonna cum. So close, baby.” You strangled out.
James snarled, his hands rough enough to leave marks for the next few days. His cock twitched inside of you, egging you on.
“Cum. Cum for me, darling.” He goaded and you did as told, eyes rolling back at the euphoria he gave. His ruts finally stopped and thick ribbons of white filled you.
You spun around and snorted at your husbands tired face. He leaned in to kiss the top of your nose, hands pulling you into an embrace.
“That was a night to remember, dear. We should do this more often.”
#james march#james patrick march#james march smut#james patrick march smut#james march x reader#james march imagine#james patrick march imagine#james patrick march x reader#james march x you#ahs hotel#ahs#american horror story#ahs imagine#evan peters#evan peters smut#evan peters imagine#jpm x reader#jpm imagines#jpm x reader smut
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Alcina's New Maid Pt. 3. Lady Dimitrescu x Reader
Summary: Lady Dimitrescu brings you in as one of her maids, at least, that's what you thought she brought you to the castle for.
Warnings: 18+ minors DNI
Tags: flirty, fluff, slow burn, smut.
Notes: Part 3!
Click here for the rest of the series
You make your way into the kitchen and find the head maid, Zina, an older woman who's been working for the Lady for most of her life, helping one of the chefs with this mornings breakfast. Tall, slender with salt and pepper hair pulled back into a tight bun, she's strict, but kind, a trait that most maids employed by Lady Dimitrescu seem to lack.
"Ah, y/n, good morning."
"Good morning Zina. The Lady said that you have new responsibilities to go over with me?"
"Yes, I do. I was rather surprised at how quickly she's moved you up the ranks, but she seems to have taken a liking to you. Something you should be grateful for, the Lady doesn't often favor her maids." She says with a smile, but also gives you a look to let you know that she's serious, and to not fuck it up.
"Oh, trust me, it's not something I take for granted." You reply.
"Good." She says as she smiles at you.
You've grown to like Zina, she's not afraid to put you in your place, but she also always gives credit where it's due and she's constantly encouraging the other maids. She's certainly the mother figure to the staff, especially the younger girls. Lady Dimitrescu also seems to like Zina, which is probably why she's been her head maid for so long. You've caught the two of them casually chatting a few times when you've been cleaning, it took you by surprise at first, but you figured that for someone who's been around as long as Zina has, it would be weird if the Lady didn't talk to her. Plus, there's rarely visitors in the castle, so you figure Lady Dimitrescu has to talk to someone once in awhile that isn't one of her daughters.
Zina leads you to one of the tables in the kitchen and you both sit. She pulls out a new list of responsibilities, which now include cleaning the Lady's chambers and study, as well as a few other rooms that were considered off limits before. You're also surprised to see that you're now responsible for mending the Lady's garments if they need sewing, ironing anything she may need, assisting her with "personal matters" which aren't defined, but after last night you think you have an idea of what that could entail, and assisting her with some of her more formal and business affairs.
You hear maids coming and going from the kitchen door behind you, greeting each other as they pass by. You hear a set of footsteps walking quickly through the doors and then whispers. You think you hear the maid whisper the word "neck" and you turn around to see the maid you saw earlier when you were leaving your Mistresses chambers, whispering to the cook Zina was with earlier. The maid turns and sees you looking at her and looks like a deer in headlights, quickly running out of the kitchen. The cook looks at you wide-eyed and you quickly turn around, and try to casually cover the marks with your hand. As you turn back to Zina you see her eyes shift from the marks on your neck to your eyes. You quickly look back down at the paper in front of you and you feel your cheeks turn red.
"Ah," Zina quietly says. "That explains it." She says with a small smile.
You look up at her with a mix of worry and embarrassment in your eyes.
"Come with me." She says as she gets up.
You follow her out of the kitchen and into her room. You've never been in here before, it looks exactly like the other maids rooms, except this one is bigger and has more amenities, like a fireplace, her own bathroom and a beautiful view outside of her window. She closes the door and gestures for you to sit a the small table in her room.
"Let me see." She says, gently moving your hair and looking at the wounds on your neck. "Oh that's not so bad, I've definitely seen worse. She must have been gentle with you."
You cheeks feel like they're on fire, you're trying to look at anything that isn't Zina, you're convinced you're going to die of embarrassment if you look her into her eye right now.
"Now that I understand the full scope of the situation, I am going to revise my statement from earlier."
You slowly look up at her, you have no idea what she means, but you're terrified that it isn't going to be good.
"The Lady has more than taken a liking to you, I had my suspicions when she promoted you again so quickly but I wasn't sure as she does surprise me once in awhile, I think mostly for her own entertainment. Anyway, the position you've found yourself in is certainly a rare one. I've seen many girls in your position over the years, and once I picked up on her pattern I began to tell every girl the same thing." Your eyes widen at her words, a fear creeping it's way into your chest. "You must be obedient, you will get certain privilege's by being in your position, but it also means that she will be keeping an extra close eye on you. I've seen too many girls let the praise and attention they receive from her get to their heads and it did not end well for any of them. Also, I understand what I'm about to say is either going to sound either far-fetched or impossible for you, but, do not become too attached to her. You do whatever you have to while in her chambers, but outside of that, you are just another maid."
Her words are as sincere as they are serious, there's no hint of jealousy or envy in her voice, you can tell she genuinely cares for you, and all of the maids. She's probably going out on a huge limb even talking to you about any of this, but you're grateful.
"She picks maidens, not dissimilar to how a dog picks a toy, and will play with them until they're either useless or she grows bored, and then finds a new one to take the place of the old one. And things normally don't end up well for the old maid because it's not uncommon for them to become possessive of the Lady and go into a blinding jealous rage. Although that doesn't happen as frequently, because as I said earlier, lots of girls let it go to their heads before she grows bored and she doesn't have a choice but to find someone new. Understand?"
You nod your head as you realize what Zina is trying to tell you.
“What- what happened to the last one?" You ask with a little fear in your voice.
"That's the peculiar thing, nothing, at least, not yet." She says, rolling her eyes. "I've never witnessed this before with the Lady, but, it seems the second you came along the other girl was dismissed from her duties long before the Lady usually becomes bored or deems them useless. Usually if there's another maid that catches her eye, the Lady will have both girls," she pauses to carefully choose her words. "hired, for the position, so to speak. Usually ending with one of them being disobedient or becoming jealous of the other leaving only one maiden left. This time however, the girl was dismissed entirely and sent back to her regular duties."
Zina seems curious of your Mistresses actions and looks at you, like she's trying to solve a puzzle that only your Mistress knows the solution to.
"Huh." You say as thoughts flood your mind.
"Now, this conversation never leaves this room. Understand?" Zina says with a seriousness in her voice.
"Yes ma'am."
"And just because I gave you this information does not mean under any circumstances are you to come to me if issues between the two of you arise. I want to know nothing about what happens between the two of you, and like I said, do not get attached to her outside of her chambers. I cannot help you if you disobey her or anger her, know that at the end of the day, my loyalty lies with her. I am merely telling you this as a courtesy, plus, it's difficult enough finding decent workers, I'd hate to lose another one."
"May I ask a question?"
"Of course."
"How many of the girls she's, hired, before me, actually survive?"
"Not many. But like I said, that's often due to their own actions."
"Are there any still alive that work here?"
"Yes, not many, but a few. Don't for a second even entertain the idea of speaking with those maids about your situation if you do find out who they are. It will end poorly for both of you."
"Oh, no, I would never."
"Good."
"The last maid that she hired, was she the one who-"
Zina sighs and almost looks aggravated. "Yes."
"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to-"
"No, no, my frustrations are not with you, they are with Stefana. Be careful around her, she's brilliant yet cunning. If I can be blunt, I would try and avoid her at all costs, she's not particularly friendly to the new maids, no less to the one who has essentially replaced her. I am aware that she became a little violent with you once she heard whispers of you being invited into the Lady's chambers. Once she finds out about this," she says pointing to your neck. "She will probably only get worse. I've tried to tell her that it will only end poorly for her if she continues, even after the Lady punished her for hurting you, but she is stubborn. She is a prime example of the blind jealousy I was talking about earlier, she's not the first to do this, nor will she be the last, regardless, it all ends the same way for girls like that. If you value your life, you will listen to her and do your best to avoid angering her. Understood?"
"Yes ma'am."
"Like I said, it is pertinent that this conversation does not leave this room, for your own safety, and frankly, for mine as well. The Lady will not be pleased to hear I'm speaking about her private matters with her personal handmaidens."
"As far as I'm concerned, this conversation never happened, I actually don't even know why I'm here." You say with a soft smile.
"Good." A warm smile crosses her face. "Now, I believe the Lady wants you to start in her study today, I will bring your breakfast up there for you, it's probably best you try and avoid the kitchen for the time being, but I will arrange to see you're still properly fed."
"Thank you, Zina."
"Of course."
You both stand and you open her door and go to walk out. You stop and turn to her and look at her. "Thank you." You say quietly.
She smiles and nods her head as you say "you're welcome." and you make your way up to your Mistresses study.
You knock on the door when you approach it and hear her velvety voice on the other side.
"Come in."
You open the door and walk into the room.
"Ah, y/n." She says with a smile. "Come in, I presume you met with Zina?"
"Yes Mistress, I just finished going over my duties with her."
"Wonderful-"
Her speech is interrupted when the door to her study swings open and slams against the wall.
"Mother!!" Cassandra yells.
"What did I say about slamming my doors?" She says, glaring at the girl. "And knocking? Did I raise you without manners?" She hisses.
Cassandra looks down at her feet.
"No mother, sorry."
She brings her fingers to the bridge of he nose and takes a deep breath and looks at her.
"Tell me, what was so important you felt the need to burst into my office?" You're surprised to hear a sweetness in her voice, you had expected her to sound angry, demeaning even. But none of that was there, just a mother talking to her child.
Your Mistress waves the girl over and pulls her into her lap and wraps her arms around her waist and looks down at her daughter.
"It was nothing." Cassandra sighs.
"No, no, I'm certain it was something, especially given your grand entrance." She smiles and gently laughs. "Tell me." She says as she caresses Cassandra's cheek.
"Ugh. It was Daniela! She won't leave me alone, all I wanted to do was sit in my room, by myself, and work on my sketches. But she burst into my room, started touching everything and tried to grab my sketchbook and ripped my sketch!" She pouts and leans into her mothers shoulder.
Your mistress sighs, comforting her child.
"You know your sister just wants to be included-" she begins.
"But!" Cassandra interrupts.
"No no, let me finish." Your Mistress says as Cassandra huffs. "however, she should have knocked and respected your things. I will speak to her about it, okay? I'm terribly sorry your sketch was ripped, but, I know you," she places her forehead against Cassandra's. "Your wonderfully creative mind will come up with something to make it even better, tears and all. Next time she wants to join, give her a pencil and some paper and let her tire herself out, you know she doesn't have that kind of patience, after a few minutes I'm sure she will grow bored and find something else to do." She smiles.
Cassandra giggles and nods her head, nuzzling into her mother. Your Mistress studies the girl in her lap, her forehead still against Cassandras and closes her eyes, enjoying the fleeting moment with her daughter. She places a kiss on her forehead and taps her leg.
"Go on, you have sketches to attend to and I have work I must finish."
Cassandra wraps her arms around her mother and kisses her on the cheek.
"Thank you mom, I love you."
"Si eu te iubesc dragă."
(I love you too, sweetheart)
She adoringly watches her as she leaves and turns back to her paper.
"Door."
You hear footsteps run back and Cassandra pops in again.
"Right, sorry!" She pulls the door closed and you hear her footsteps disappear down the hall.
She shakes her head and mutters to herself with a smile on her face, bringing her attention back to the paper in her hand.
"Right," she says after a minute, "where were we?" She turns to you, she soft demeanor melting back to her usual, harder exterior.
"You were about to say something, Mistress, then-" You say.
"Oh yes, Zina went over your new responsibilities with you, yes?"
"Yes Mistress."
"Good. Do you have any questions about your responsibilities?"
"No Mistress."
"Very well then. I am behind on filing my paperwork and need your assistance."
"Of course, Mistress."
She gestures to a large stack of papers sitting on the countertop of the bookshelf and explains how she needs them organized and filed away in the massive filing cabinet sitting next to it.
"And do try to avoid reading the contents of the pages that are not necessary for your tasks."
"Oh, I wouldn't, Mistress," you sheepishly look up at her. "I respect your private business affairs, I won't pry."
She brings her hand up to your cheek and caresses it.
"Good, my little pet." She smiles as she feels the heat rising in your cheeks.
She holds your chin between her forefinger and thumb and lifts it so you're looking into her eyes. Her glowing golden eyes are captivating. She gently pulls your lower lip down a little with her thumb and you feel the heat between your legs. You have no idea how she does it, but she seems to immediately know when you're turned on or if your heart is racing. She looks you up and down and cocks her eyebrow, the corner of her lip just barely curling. She drops her hand and turns back to her work.
"Go on." She says, nodding over to the papers.
"Yes Mistress." You say, your voice just barely shaking.
You grab the stack of papers and look around for a second to see if there was a surface you could work on. When you don't see one that will work for you, you sit on the floor and start separating the papers into piles by category. Invoices, Memos, Order Lists, Inventory, etc. You try to work as quickly and silently as possible to not disturb your Mistress from her other work.
"Hm." You hear your Mistress hum in your direction. You look up and see her, watching you, curiosity on her face.
"Am- am I doing something wrong, Mistress?" You nervously ask. You're trying your very best to keep her as happy as possible, especially after your conversation with Zina earlier.
"No, just merely observing your process. It's, peculiar."
"Oh," you look down at the small stacks laid out in front of you and back up at her. "Well, I figured it would be easiest to separate the documents by the categories, then organize the smaller piles by date, then file them into their designated folders."
"Hm." She hums once more. "Logical. Carry on." She says and turns back to her work. You wouldn't say she was impressed, but she certainly wasn't upset, so you continue.
You hear a knock on the door. "Come in."
Zina opens the door with a tray.
"Good morning Lady Dimistrescu."
"Good morning Zina." She says pleasantly, eyeing the tray.
"I hope you don't mind the intrusion, I offered to bring y/n's breakfast up here for her. I felt it might be best for her to avoid the kitchen for the time being."
Your Mistress pauses for a moment, considering Zina's suggestion of you avoiding the kitchen.
"You're probably right, thank you Zina. You can leave it over there." she says, gesturing to a side table nearby.
She puts the tray down and smiles down at you, you return the smile and she walks away.
"Is there anything you need from me before I leave my Lady?" Zina asks.
"No, no, that is all. Thank you Zina. You can bring her lunch up here as well, as I presume you are planning on hand delivering y/n her meals for the next few days?"
"Your presumption is correct my Lady." She says with a smile.
"Zina you are a blessing, without you I'm convinced I'd only have half of the staff that I currently do." Lady Dimitrescu says.
"I appreciate the compliment my Lady, thank you. I will come back and deliver y/n's lunch this afternoon, I'll take this tray back with me when I deliver lunch."
"Thank you, dear." Lady Dimitrescu says.
Zina shuts the door and you continue to sort through the papers.
"Are you not going to eat?" She asks without looking at you.
"Oh, um, I was gonna finish organizing the last of this stack first." You say with a bit of nervousness.
She turns and looks at the large stack you have next to you and looks back at you.
"That is not necessary, I can't have my little pet going hungry now, the papers can wait. Go on, eat."
"Yes Mistress." You get up and walk over to the tray.
Lady Dimitrescu gets up and walks over to a chair with another stack of papers on it. She moves the papers to her desk and brings the chair over to you.
"Oh, thank you Mistress, you didn't have to-"
"I know." Her lips curl into a smile as she turns around and reclaims her seat.
The interaction left you a little confused, but you climb up into the gigantic seat and eat your breakfast as quickly and quietly as possible.
By the time you're done eating you're stuffed, as nervous as you are around your Mistress, this was one of the most relaxed meals you've had since you got here. You walk back over to your spot surrounded by papers and sit back down, as you go to sit your knees crack with a loud "POP." You wince at the sound, worried you've disturbed her. She turns her head towards you when she hears the sound.
"What was that?" She asks.
"I'm so sorry Mistress, my knees crack like that sometimes."
"Are you injured?" She has a mild concern in her voice when she asks.
"No, no Mistress, I'm not injured. It's been happening since I was young. It's not painful, just noisy." You say with a sheepish smile.
"Very well." She says and turns her attention back to her papers. You think you hear her mutter the words "human" to herself but quickly go back to sorting the papers.
You finish sorting through the stack of papers and organizing the smaller stacks by date and start filing them away in the filing cabinet. You swear you see her looking at you out of the corner of your eye but you try and focus on not putting the papers in the wrong folder.
The filing cabinet dwarfs you, but luckily most of the papers went into the drawers you're able to reach. You have just a few stacks left and realize they have to go into the top drawer, you look up at it, you're not even sure if you can reach the handle. You look around the room to see if there's a ladder or something you can use and look back up at the cabinet with your head cocked, trying to figure out how you're going to get up there.
You hear her chuckle behind you and your cheeks start to turn pink.
"Need help draga?" She asks.
"Oh, um, I," you look over at her, she looks entertained watching you trying to figure out how to get up there and you look at your feet. "Yes please, Mistress."
You're taken by surprise when she stands up and puts her hands around your waist and lifts you like you weigh nothing. Your cheeks feel like they're on fire, you feel like a child. You open the filing cabinet and file away the papers into their folders and close the drawer. She lowers you to the ground and gives your side a little squeeze before letting go. You twitch and let out a little whine, her squeeze hitting one of the most ticklish spots on your body. You hear her smirk in your ear as she bends down and puts her lips to your ear.
"Ticklish are we?" She says as she puts her fingers back on your side.
"Yes Mistress." You say, using every ounce of willpower you have in you to not succumb to the sensation at your side.
She knows it's taking all of your energy to not squirm and she loves it. She digs her nails a little harder into you and you bite the inside of your cheek, all of your energy right now is focused on not flinching. She seems to take this as a challenge because she digs her nails a little harder into you and then drags them across the fabric of your dress. You break and squirm under her grasp, involuntarily bending away from her fingers and you let out a small squeal.
She chuckles in your ear, satisfied with herself.
"That's all it took?" She says, her voice sultry. "My sweet, sensitive little pet."
Her hand slides away from your side, past the small of your back and away from you as she goes to sit back down at her desk. You can feel the wetness between your legs grow as your heartrate settles. She looks at you out of the corner of her eye as you try and compose yourself, pleased with how easily she can fluster you, like a cat toying with a mouse.
You continue to clean around her study, dusting, organizing a few things, filing away stray papers, the like. Zina comes and goes with lunch and tells you she'll deliver your dinner to your room.
The sun begins to set and you realize you've spent almost all day in the study with your Mistress, "she really does work a lot" you think to yourself. She dismisses you for the day and you head back to your room.
As you make your way through the castle you see Stefana ahead of you, you look down and try to make your way to your room as fast as possible. You hear footsteps quickly coming towards you and you're thrown back a little when she shoves her shoulder into you. You catch yourself from falling over and start to walk away.
"You're a fucking coward." She hisses.
You turn towards her, you're not sure why, but you had a feeling walking away wasn't going to make her stop tonight. She walks up to you and gets in your face.
"I told you to know your place, you bitch." She spat in your face. "What? You have nothing to say?"
You open your mouth to speak but you don't even know what to say. You know why she's angry, but it's not like you had any control over the situation. She glares into your eyes and takes a step back.
"Well lets see if you have anything to say about THIS."
She pulls her shirt out of her skirt and lifts it up, your eyes widen, a little horrified at what you're looking at. Four massive claw marks across her abdomen, she cut your arm weeks ago, it may have scarred a little but it's fully healed. Her wounds look like they've just started to heal, there's no doubt in your mind that they're going to scar, badly.
"Oh my- did she-?" You whisper as you stand there, shocked.
She walks back up to you. "You think you're so special, because she picked you, I bet she makes you call her 'Mistress' she calls you her 'little pet' and 'draga mea' and brushes your hair and whispers into your ear" Her voice begins to crack as tears well up in her eyes. "and tells you how special you are to her. Shit she may even tell you that she loves you. But she doesn't."
You think in a weird way she's trying to warn you.
"She loves ME."
Never mind. This must be the "blinding jealous rage" that Zina was talking about earlier.
"And if you don't fucking back off you will regret it. I will make you regret ever stepping foot into this castle. Got it?"
All you could do was nod, you really didn't know what to say anyway, but you also figured it was best to speak as little as possible and just let her get it out and not add fuel to the fire. She shoves past you and you stand there for a second, your brain trying to process all of, whatever that was.
You head back to your room, you easily dismiss everything that Stefana said, Zina warned her, and you, if she didn't listen and got too caught up in it, that's on her. The one thing you weren't able to shake was what your Mistress did to her. You've heard rumors' of the horrors that take place here, but so far, you really haven't witnessed much of anything, sure there were often pools of blood, tattered pieces of clothing occasionally, the girls leaving the castle clean and returning with blood all over their clothes and faces, never sure if it was animals blood or not, but you never witnessed any of it. Which frankly, you were fine with. You couldn't help but feel a little guilty about her wounds, if that was your Mistress' way of giving someone a warning, you don't want to even try and imagine what their punishments would be.
"But she wouldn't do that to me, right?" You catch yourself thinking. "Shit. Don't get attached outside of the chambers." You remind yourself. That was one of the dangerous things about your mistress, she can make anyone feel special, chosen, like they mean something to her. The general consensus is that they don't mean anything to her, maybe it's her way of having an intimate moment with someone without commitment, or how she displays her power and authority, you weren't sure, but you wanted to know more, to figure out why. So much of you wanted to peel back the layers of her until you're able to see what's underneath the icy exterior. And you know that that's a very dangerous thought, it might as well be a death wish. But there was a small part of you in the back of your head that made you think it was different with you, the rational side of you knew that was a ridiculous thought, but that small, shiny thought was tempting to dive into.
Your concentration on your thoughts is broken when you hear a knock at the door, you open it to see Zina.
"Oh, Zina, hi."
"I came to collect your tray."
You look over at your tray, completely untouched. She gives you a look.
"Sorry, I was distracted, I was thinking about something."
She gives you a concerned look but doesn't say anything.
"No, no, not that." You say quietly. "Well, kind of," she goes to speak but you cut her off. "Stefana berated me in the halls, I was thinking about that part of it."
Her face relaxes and she nods her head. "How many times do I have to tell that girl-" she says to herself as she shakes her head. "You know if I witness her doing anything to you, I must report it to the Lady, right? Her orders given directly to me. And so you know, Stefana's 'punishment' from that last stunt she pulled will be considered a vacation compared to the wrath she is going to face if she does anything else."
"I understand. I can't believe she," you say quietly as you put your hand over your stomach.
"Dear, I know you're still relatively new here, and it's been quite uneventful the last few months so not much has happened. But, that," she points to your hand over your stomach. "was her being generous. Very generous." You swallow hard at her words. "I have been here for what?" She pauses to think. "30, 35 years? I have seen things no one should ever witness, things that should never happen to people, things that would be cruel to do to worthless animals, no less human beings." despair begins to creep its way into your chest. "But, I have also seen incredible kindness, a mother who dotes on her children, children who are a handful, yes, but children, sisters, who fight and bicker to no end, but love each other more than anything else in this world. Children who adore their mother. The Lady can be horrifically ruthless, as can the girls, but, nothing is ever 100% evil or 100% good, and they have good in them, you just have to look a little harder sometimes to see it."
"How, how did you survive here all of these years?" You quietly ask.
"I did my job, and damn well, I listened to everything the Lady told me, did everything she asked of me, yes I had some slipups, my fair share of punishments with the scars to prove it. But I didn't let the darkness I saw here affect the light in me." She says, pointing to her chest. "And I was kind, to the Lady, the staff, the other maids, even to those that were mean, people you'd think were 100% evil, and kind to the girls, especially the girls. One thing I will tell you, the Lady would slaughter every single living creature here for her girls, myself included. They are her sun, moon and stars. You've been really good with them, and she's taken notice. They are not easy to deal with, but I will say even I'm impressed with how well you deal with their antics. I think that's a big reason why she chose you, the ones that her girls don't get along with never last long, but they seem to have taken a liking to you. And that is certainly not something to take for granted." She looks over at the tray again. "Bring the tray to me in the morning, goodnight y/n."
"Goodnight Zina."
You close the door and sit back on your bed as her words sink in, you're grateful for her brutal honesty, even if it terrified you a little. But she's right about things not being 100% evil or 100% good, you're probably going to see some pretty horrific and gruesome shit, but you have to remind yourself to look past the blood and gore and focus on the good parts. At the very least so you can survive, so maybe one day you can see the kids again, squeeze Elena and hear her shrill giggling. You have to do it for them.
#willalove75#lady dimitrescu#lady dimitrescu fanfic#wlw fanfic#re8 alcina#alcina dimitriscu x reader#alcina dimitrescu#lady dimitrescu x reader#resident evil fanfiction#resident evil village
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the workin’ of my hands— a whatever’s still to come oneshot
summary: a stretched summer night between you and steve.
pairing: steve harrington x f!reader
word count: 2271
warnings: prosaic smut, too many metaphors, and an over abundance of chiaroscuro - the usual!
note: am I positively feral for unreal unearth? 100 percent yes, do you even know me at all?! like I’ve said, this series is a long way from seeing the light of day, but enjoy a lil’ taste in the meantime.
Nota bene: Reblogging, commenting, and liking my work is always appreciated; reposting, however, is not.
Enjoy! 💜
It feels destined and star-crossed, the way his heart kicks up when your fingers brush against his.
Finally worked up the courage to ask you out, and it’s holding hands that does him in?
He shakes his head minutely, biting his lip and tearing his gaze from you. Not noticing your upturned face, thinks you’re looking at the stars when in reality, you can’t stop looking at him.
So familiar yet so different from what you imagined he’d be.
No matter.
Not when he squeezes your hand and he cuts the engine of the beemer.
It was a casual date, all things considered; dinner at the diner followed by a movie. During which Steve had been a perfect gentlemen, opening doors and keeping his hands to himself.
He doesn’t exactly want to and would rather propriety be damned, but the thing is he likes you. Really likes you. To the point that Robin is getting sick and tired of his moping and making cow-eyes at you whenever you’re in Family Video.
“Shit, or get off the pot, Harrington.”
He snorts, and continues to stock the new releases across the shop. “Such language,” he taunts, “And from a lady, at that.”
Robin rolls her eyes and Steve swears he can almost hear it. “‘M tryin’ to give you some advice, dingus.”
“Uh huh,” he replies, walking back to the counter for another stack of tapes. “No offense Robs, but I think between the two of us, I’m the dating expert.”
Now it’s her turn to snort. “Okay, big guy.” She taps the keys of the computer idly, “Then when is the last time you’ve used this so-called expertise?”
“Pfft.” He rolls his eyes, “I dunno, like last week? Crystal or Christine— whatever her name was.”
Robin smirks, “You think that was last week? Try a month ago. Poor Christine only stopped calling you last week.”
Steve stops, a tape nearly falling from his grasp. The door chimes, signaling a customer walking in, and he nearly falls over himself trying to assist them.
Only to see you standing by the door.
Robin lets out a low whistle and busies herself at the counter. And Steve would like nothing more than the ground to open up and swallow him whole.
You look divine.
A bright summer dress, skirt skimming just above your knees to reveal sun-warmed skin. The faint aroma of sunblock and chlorine clings to you, invading his senses while he forces his eyes upward.
The bodice of the dress is damp, clinging to your rib cage and waist; it’s clear you’d just come from the pool and had thrown the garment on as a cover-up, a lone bikini strap slipping down one shoulder and chest heaving.
You’re clutching a tape in hand, something you’d rented last week, and that’s when it all slides into place.
“I—uh,” you say, trying to catch your breath. “I forgot to return this earlier, how much in late fees?”
It’s at this point that Robin has the sense to make herself scarce.
“Oh,” Steve replies, one hand coming up to scratch the back of his neck. “I mean, it’s not a huge deal since it was due this morning.”
His free hand comes to take the tape from you. Your fingers brush for the briefest of moments before Steve is turning to deposit the tape with the other returns.
He tries to stifle the shudder that runs through him, the sensation of your soft skin against his.
“Did you like it?”
“Hmm?”
Steve clears his throat, “The movie, did you like it?”
“Sure,” you say, fingers lingering on the tapes he’d just stocked. “It was fine.”
How Steve got from there to here, on a bona fide date with you, he’ll never know. Though Robin is insistent, it has something to do with “the Harrington charm offensive.”
Usually, somewhere between dates three to five, Steve maybe gets his dick wet. If he’s lucky.
But you flutter your lashes and look up with those big doe eyes and he finds himself defenseless.
“Wanna come up?”
He all but stumbles up the stairs to your apartment, tittering giggles spilling from your mouth as you unlock the door.
Steve’s eager, and you like it.
Is it such a bad thing, that he’s desperate for more of your time?
It’s like his mind finally rests in your presence, his soul is at peace. No longer constantly looking over his shoulder for the next big, bad thing.
You quiet the agonies inside him.
Replace them with warmth and light.
His mouth is on you as soon as the door is locked. Boozy and warm, with the faintest hint of tequila from your drink at dinner. You sigh into the kiss and Steve swears it’s a sound he’s heard only in his dreams.
Heat licks up the ridge of your spine, Steve’s hands everywhere, as if he can’t get enough of you. Leading him from the entryway, your hands land on his hips fingers hooking into belt loops.
A gentle tug brings you both into the dim light of the bedroom. Hands glide up his chest to settle along his shoulders as your lips part from his with a soft click. He takes slow breaths, mindful not to pull from your orbit.
Your arms drape languidly around his collar, fingers idly caressing the strands of hair at the nape of his neck. Eyes blown wide with lust, starry and enchanting; if he’s not careful, Steve swears he could get lost in them.
A slow smile graces your lips as your hands drift to his chest— a soft push sends his back to the downy duvet while you nudge his legs apart.
“Honey,” he rasps, running a hand through his hair, watching your deft fingers pop the button on his jeans. “You don’t have to—“
A disapproving cluck from you as you unzip the fly. “But I want to, baby.”
Steve’s dick jumps.
Baby.
Sticky sweet falling like spun sugar from your ruddied lips. He groans, eyes screwing shut and head falling against the pillow. He’s as good as gone now; your intoxicating smile and the working of your dexterous hand, freeing him from the confines of his boxers and sealing his fate.
Because Steve isn’t used to this— being cared for. He plans the date, picks her up, pays for dinner, drives her home, and pretty much does all the heavy lifting in the bedroom. He’s a generous lover, or so he’s been told.
“If you’re down for a good time, call…”
So to say he’s unprepared when you get your mouth on him and sluice him up with lover’s spit, is an understatement.
Steve’s soul could leave his body at this moment and he would be none the wiser.
Not when your pretty little mouth is wrapped around his cock in a smile. It’s everything he can do not to blow his load right then and there.
You work him up easily. Not that it’s that difficult, because he really, really likes you. Your hand working in tandem with what your mouth can’t fit and Steve is losing his damn mind.
The sounds are obscene.
Wet sucks and licks from your mouth, moans as you sink him further down, crushing against your molars. Low whines pouring from his own mouth, begging,
“Oh, fuck. Jus’ like that— ohmygod your fucking mouth.”
His hands cradle your head tenderly, like he can’t bring himself to believe that this is happening. And as heavenly as your mouth is, Steve knows, deep in his bones, that he has to be inside of you.
Like, yesterday.
“Honey,” he says, fingers sweeping along your jaw, coaxing you to look up.
When your eyes meets his, Steve has to stave off an orgasm from a particularly harsh suck of your mouth.
“C’mere,” it comes out more desperate than he’d intended, but you don’t seem to mind.
Fingers wipe away the lover’s spit that had gathered on your mouth and chin, a mischievous glint in your eyes.
“What is it, baby?”
Your voice is a wrecked low rasp, and pulls at something primal in his guts. The weight of you settles against his lap, a wiggle of your hips stoking the heat trapped in his veins.
Steve takes a moment to study you: wild hair from the torment on his fingers, eyes warm and glassy, lips slick and revealing a bright flash of teeth. The strap of your dress falls from your shoulder and he wants nothing more than to wreck you.
As if you can read his mind, you wink and reach back to unzip the dress. You pull the fabric up and away inviting the moonlight to gleam against your skin.
It steals breath.
His hand reaches out to trace the curve of your breast, earning him a lustful sigh that falls from your open, panting mouth. You’re so soft under his fingertips, Steve wants to get his mouth back on you, he has to.
But then you pull your pantries to the side and, oh god, is that hotter than he thought it’d be— only to grip the hot, firm line of him against your petaled heat.
Steve goes to say something, anything to warn you, that he can’t possibly fit. That you’re not loosened up enough. He hasn’t even eaten you out or worked your open on his fingers.
But all that comes out is a groan as he disappears into the divine, wet heat between your thighs.
Jesus Christ in Heaven.
“S’okay, baby,” you coo. “I can take it.” You lean closer, hair tickling his neck and breath fanning against his skin, “I was made for you.”
Steve has no idea what comes out of his mouth at that. Just thrusts up uselessly, hands holding firm to the flare of your hips. You chuckle lowly and brace yourself against his chest, finger nails scraping along his skin.
You ride him like it’s your job, alternating slow, winding thrusts with quick, percussive ones. You’re so tight. And wet. And hot. Half-lidded eyes trained on him, changing your tempo to suit his pleasure.
Steve can feel himself growing warm, heat climbing up his neck and chest. A rag-doll beneath you, a sheen of sweat along his skin, mouth open in a wet gasp. The quirk of your lips sends a rush through his veins, a low keen falling from his lips.
“Slow down, gonna come if you keep that up.”
You settle into a slow, lazy roll of your hips, but just barely.
“Why, don’t you wanna come, baby?”
He’s in so deep that his skin blooms with a shudder when his cockhead kisses your cervix.
“Big and filling me up so well, Stevie.” A plaintive moan erupting from your lips, accompanied by a vicious clench of your walls. “God, you feel so good.”
Steve smiles delirious and completely captivated by you. Extricates a hand to drag you back down to him, rests your forehead against his, as if your souls could become intertwined, and kisses you like he’s a dying man.
And, hell, he might as well be.
“Fuck,” rushes out in a hoarse breath. “Fuck!”
The room spins out of control and he can feel you smiling against his collarbone. You wind your hips and flutter your walls against him, as Steve grinds deeply into you. Steadies himself by palming at your hips, thumbs tracing the jut of bone there, as if it would ground him.
His orgasm crashes on him like a tidal wave, bringing with it a sense of deja vu— you and him but in a different time and place. Your eyes and smile remain the same, as does the feeling— a bone-deep sense of home.
But the clothes are different, as are the words that fall from your lips. Dappled in light from the moon or sun, the images keep coming and so does Steve.
“Philtatos,” you gasp, reaching your peak with a full body shudder. Steve’s hands anchor you to him, points of heat flaring against your skin.
And it’s glorious— you are glorious. Moonlight cutting through the shade of night to illuminate your pleasure. The clench of your cunt is nearly enough to make him come all over again, and wrests a strained moan from the confines of his throat.
By the time Steve comes to his senses again, you’re sponging open-mouthed kisses and bites to his neck and chest, a hand laid over the steady beat of his heart. You wiggle against his hips and thighs, wet and sticky between your legs.
He clutches at your waist, breaths evening out once more. Fingers trace the curves of your ribcage while he revels in the comedown.
“What was that thing you said? Phil—“
The crescents of your nails drag delightfully against his skin. “Philtatos.”
“Yeah, that.” Steve’s hand settles at the nape of your neck, playing with your hair idly. “What does it mean?”
You hum contentedly, nearly melting at his touch and earning a raspy laugh form him.
“S’like a nickname,” you supply softly. “It’s Greek.”
He doesn’t press further. More interested in the working of his hands, wants you boneless and sated spread out before him. His cock kicks up at the thought.
“Baby,” you ask, syrupy sweet.
“Uh huh.” He’s woozy.
“What’s your refractory period like?”
A shiver courses up his spine. He laughs and shakes himself alive, pulling up to take you down to the mattress. You acquiesce easily, back arching and lips searching for him in the near dark.
“Okay honey,” he says with a knowing lilt and grin, “Now it’s my turn to fuck you.”
#steve harrington x reader#steve harrington x you#steve harrington smut#steve harrington fan fiction#stranger things fan fiction#fic: wstc#Spotify
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Happy New Year! It seems requests are still open, so if it isn't a bother I'd like to request a short/one-off Rugan smut fic~ Maybe that back alley you mentioned? 😉. Please and thank you!
Ha Ha Ha Ha Ha oh ANON you rascal!!! This made me go insane :))) but I need to feed the Rugan Fuckers so please. It ended up being much longer than I planned but I guess my ass can't just write 500 words about getting rawed I gotta go into the specifics. ANYways I hope you enjoy what my silly little brainworms came up with for you :)
A Room on Wintershield
Rugan x FemReader, NSFW, 2.3k+ words
"A room for myself - and the lady, if you would, saer," Rugan's voice was husky from the firewine and pipeweed the two of you had been indulging in throughout evening. He slid his coin across the counter without ever breaking his gaze with yours, already undressing you with his eyes. You were pressed against his chest, the feeling of his racing heartbeat betraying his casual drawl.
"Ah, terribly sorry, we're already booked full for the evening," the host said with mock disappointment. That cheery, Customer Service inflection implying they weren't very sorry at all.
Rugan's eyes finally broke from yours and shot the host a sideways glare, "Then make room. Can't you see we're two wayward souls in… desperate need of lodging?" He pulled you tighter against him. His smile grazing your lips, teasing you with the hopes of a kiss that wouldn't yet come. The host tried to hide rolling their eyes.
"Apologies again, sir. We're simply sold out for the night!" they began to mutter to themselves as they turned back to their books, "Good luck finding a room this late on Wintershield."
"Oh, piss off," Rugan huffed, flipping the host off before pulling you with him through the doors of the Inn. The fourth one the two of you had tried - and failed - to find a room in for the evening.
The streets were busy with the rest of Waterdeep indulging in celebration. The air outside was chilled, but your earlier imbibements left you both plenty warm. You stumbled over yourself, tipsy and lightheaded, giggling as Rugan held you steady with his arms firmly wrapped around your waist. The two of you had barely made it a block down the street before he had you spun around to face him, kissing you deeply and pushing you against the closest wall he could find.
"I can't believe how hard it's been just to find a place to bed you," Rugan said as he traced his lips across your jaw. You were a mess of moans and giggles as his fingers glided under the hem of your shirt, sliding his hand beneath the fabric to forcefully grab your breast in his calloused hand. Your mouth hung open as you moaned into him, riding your open legs against his thigh. His free hand gripped into your waist, his thumb pushing into the dips of your hip as he ground himself into you.
"You little Nymph," he whispered gruffly, "I may just have to take you right here…" You moaned again, louder, though barely audible outside of the little bubble of yourselves. The festivities surrounding you seem to have hit their peak. Townsfolk just as heady and busy with their own celebrations paid you virtually no mind. However, even in your stupor, you felt exposed in the crowd.
"We can't -" your breath caught in your throat, trying to be reasonable while your body ached for him, "Not here."
Rugan bit at your bottom lip gently, humming to himself as you were practically melting into him, "Lass, I'd feel safe in assuming you'd let me take you wherever the Hells I wanted you," his deep, rugged voice sending a shiver through your spine, straight to your core, "But if you insist… Who am I to not make my Lady more comfortable."
His hand left from underneath your garments, a slight whimper of disappointment escaping your lips at the loss. He kissed you again before taking your wrist and pulling you alongside him into an alley between the busy streets. After just a few short steps, he quickly had you pressed against a wall once more, kissing your neck as both his hands found their way back under your shirt, caressing your breasts roughly. Your hands gripped against his back as you held onto him, eyes fluttering as you glanced out into the busy streets just a few short yards away.
It was dark here, between these buildings, and the party-goer's were ever so slightly muffled now that you had made a bit of distance. It felt secluded, but still dangerous. That danger doing nothing to help with the building warmth between your legs.
Lost in the trance of Rugan's touch against your chest, his lips against your neck - you yelped in surprise as he suddenly spun you to face the wall he had you pinned against. His hands quickly found your wrists to hold tight against the small of your back, your face and chest now pressed between the wall and the powerful man behind you. You could feel the straining length of him pressing up against your ass, and couldn't help but arch your back into him. He let out a heavy groan as his head fell to rest in the crook of your shoulder, kissing your neck deeply as his free hand slid your pants down just enough to cup the curve of your plump rear.
He grabbed a full cheek in his hand, squeezing you tightly, before pulling his hand back and slapping. You let out a gasp as he grunted in your ear, reaching his hand back to spank you once more. Your gasp came out with a moan of his name, and he pushed his still clothed arousal against your bare skin.
"I want to hear you beg for me, Lass," his voice much more composed than his body gave away. A sense of authority and control that made you submit without a second thought.
"Please, Rugan..." your voice was cracking, as if waiting for him had you on the verge of tears. And perhaps it did. You bit your bottom lip as you road yourself against him, desperate for any stimulation. You felt him pull himself away from your shoulder, now watching your pathetic attempts to pleasure yourself against him. He tutted in response.
"I don't know, Sweetheart. Are you sure you really want me?" His free hand spread your cheeks, your cunt so drenched he could see the clear strings of your desire sticking between your folds as he slowly pulled you open. He watched as you twitched in desperation, your body begging in ways he deemed your words could not.
You sobbed as he teased you, sliding his thumb down against your slick, grazing over your clit, before dragging it back up and gently prodding at the tighter hole between your legs. You moaned and your knees nearly buckled, Rugan holding you up by his grip on your wrists.
"Rugan, please fuck me. Please I - I need you inside of me," warm tears were spilling down your cheeks as you heard him wrestle with the ties of his trousers. Suddenly, you felt the hot, thick length of his cock against your bare ass. He slid himself between your cheeks, rutting himself against the warmth of your body easily with your pooling arousal coating him.
You felt him slide against you once more, before the head of his member was now prodding at the entrance of your aching cunt. He leaned himself back against you, his mouth brushing your ear, warm breath hitting your skin and causing you to shiver.
"Anything for the Lady," he whispered, low and heavy, before pushing himself into you. Your cheeks were squeezed tight, your legs pinned together between the wall and his body.
"Gods, Lass, you're so fucking wet for me," he slid himself into you easily, filling your deepest parts. You clenched around him, your walls fluttering as he held himself there for a moment. He kissed below your ear, onto your neck, "So wet… so fucking tight."
He pulled his length out of you, achingly slowly. You felt yourself desperately clench against nothing as he left you, before slamming himself back into you. Harder, with intent.
"I want to make you scream for me, Love," he said, kissing your neck once more, "When I'm through with you, you'll never be satisfied unless its my cock inside of you," His slow and shallow pumping quickly found a rhythm that left your breath catching on every thrust. Your words were lost, all you could find yourself doing was whimpering and gasping, incoherently begging for more of him. Your pussy clenching desperately, your ass bouncing back against him, matching the rhythm of his thrusts.
His hand snakes up your body, eventually finding your throat. He squeezes, holding you in place while he pounds into you. You try to turn your head just enough to see Rugan's face over your shoulder. He finds your eyes and smiles as he fucks into you harder still, "You love how this feels, don't you, sweetheart?"
Your eyes rolled back as you moan. He kisses against your open mouth, "That's right… I feel the way your desperate cunt grips me," he released your wrists from his hand, still pinning them in place with the weight of his body pressed against you. He slapped and grabbed at your ass again, this time lifting your cheek while shifting his hips, opening you up just enough to let him slide into you even deeper than before.
"Ohhhh, fff -" you help your lip between your teeth as his cock hit a sweet spot inside of you. His movements became slow and deliberate, reveling in the new way your body shuddered against him. He kissed your neck, your ear, your cheek, whispering to you all the while.
"That's it, Love. You take my cock so well," he wrapped his arm around your waist, ducking his hand between the front of your thighs and toying with your clit.
"Oh, Gods, Rugan..." You rocked your hips and felt a new wave of arousal crash over you.
"Yes, Love - say my name," he began pounding into you harder, teasing your clit, squeezing your throat, and slamming his cock into you, "Tell me who this tight cunt belongs to - Fuck! - Tell me who the fuck you belong to!"
You felt yourself chasing the high of your release. Clenching around him, you nearly yelled between his relentless thrusts.
"You, Rugan! My body belongs to you, I belong to you -" you felt his speed pick up, desperate for his own satisfaction.
"That's right, doll. You're all mine," he pinched your clit, biting into your shoulder. You could feel how close he was, you wanted him to make a mess of you. He squeezed your throat tighter as he huffed out his worlds, "Come for me, sweetheart. I want to feel you…"
Your body spasmed at his demand, choking out his name once more with whatever breath you had left under his tight grip. Your ears ringing, your vision growing hazy around the edges, stars twinkling across your eyes as you cum with him rutting inside of you.
You heard Rugan let out a deep, grunting sigh against your skin as his cock slammed into you quickly, roughly. Your walls clenching his twitching member as he shot his seed inside. He continued playing with your clit as you both came, causing your orgasm to ride out even longer. The fluttering convulsions of your pussy gripping his throbbing cock, milking every drop of his spend.
He began to still within you. His chest heaving against your back, kissing your neck and shoulder, and rocking his half hard cock inside you to chase the fleeting shock waves of his orgasm. You felt him push himself off of you, freeing your hands at last, your palms slapping against the wall in exhaustion. He watched hungrily as he slowly pulled himself away, his spend dripping out of you. He ran two fingers between your folds, causing you to clench and whine, your body still sensitive to his touch. He leaned back into you, kissing your cheek as he pushed his fingers inside, forcing his seed back into you.
"Don't want this going to waste, Lass," he whispered, tracing his lips and tongue across your jaw. He slide his fingers deep into you two, three, four times, fucking his spend back into your pussy, before pulling them out & bringing them around to your lips. You opened your mouth, desperate and hungry, as he slid his fingers against your tongue, coated in your combined release. You wrapped your lips around his digits, sucking and lapping at the salty mix of fluids. He slid his fingers back out of your mouth, running them along your lips for good measure, before spanking your ass, hard, and tucking himself back into his garments. You weakly took your shaking hands to your waistband and pulled your pants back up from their shallow resting position above your thighs. You could feel your small clothes sticking to your skin uncomfortably, absolutely drenched in your arousal and Rugan's thick release. His hands found your waist again, spinning you around to kiss him.
"Hells below, woman, you are absolutely filthy," he moaned into your mouth.
"Speak for yourself, Zhent," you retorted, clenching his shirt in your fists to keep him held against you. He cocked an eyebrow and a sly grin crept across his face.
"Watch your tone with me, Lass, lest I have to teach you another lesson," he squeezed your ass again, sparking another rolling fire in your stomach as if you didn't just have the most mind blowing orgasm mere Minutes prior.
Above the ruckus of the busy streets, you both started hearing shouting.
"And stay out! Free-loader!" A tavern keep was busy shoving a young man out of their front doors, tossing some half pack luggage behind him, "Come back when you actually have the coin and not some illusory bull-shite!" You saw him toss a handful of copper right into the mans face before slamming the doors behind him. Embarrassed, the young man quickly gathered his things and rushed off. Rugan glanced down at you, and you smiled wide.
"Sounds like some bloke's out of luck for the evening," he grinned.
"Sounds like someone has a room for rent," you teased, grabbing him by the collar and yanking him back into the streets. You ran into the tavern, breathless and wanting. Finally, a place to bed for the evening.
Though you knew neither of you would be getting much sleep.
#rugan#tav x rugan#rugan x tav#rugan bg3#bg3 rugan#rugan x reader#also if u dont know wintershield is like d&d new years so! happy new years rugan rails you in an alley way :)
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Beefro proudly presents:
a Chubby!Peña one shot
Javier Peña & his Sweetheart: Ringin' in the New Year
Pairing: Javier Peña x Fem!Reader (Sweetheart!)
Summary: After a dry spell and a communication breakdown, the new year sheds light on new plans.
Rating: Explicit 18+ (MDNI)
Word Count: 2,976
Content Warning: Smutty smutty smut smut, fingering (f receiving), p in the v - unwrapped, breeding kink, drunkenness
Author's Notes: I know that this was not on the list of anticipated fics, but let's all embrace this beef's spontaneous fic writing.
Bless @gasolinerainbowpuddles for their inspo. Bless @neverwheremoonchild for egging me on (I started this fic drunk a few weeks ago), thank you to @toxicanonymity for their Chubby!Peña love. And thanks be to @umnitsa & @softpascalito for their ra-rasis-boom-bah's!
Final draft not beta'd, so enjoy my typos. TA DA!
‧̍̊·̊‧̥°̩̥˚̩̩̥͙°̩̥‧̥·̊‧̍̊ ♡ °̩̥˚̩̩̥͙°̩̥ ·͙*̩̩͙˚̩̥̩̥*̩̩̥͙·̩̩̥͙*̩̩̥͙˚̩̥̩̥*̩̩͙‧͙ °̩̥˚̩̩̥͙°̩̥ ♡ ‧̍̊·̊‧̥°̩̥˚̩̩̥͙°̩̥‧̥·̊‧̍̊
You were thankful that your period had arrived, and it was just the flu that was making you nauseous. Letting your boss fuck you bare back in his office seemed like a good idea at the time until you were faced with pregnancy symptoms. You didn’t dare tell Javier that you were worried, not wanting to involve him unless it was absolutely necessary, and since you weren’t pregnant, he didn’t need to know.
◤━━━━━━━━━━━◥
It had been several months from the time when he had you in his office, and since then, the furthest you’d gone was either getting on your knees for him or having your legs flung over his shoulders. He didn’t push because you were so willing to ply him with a blow job and a bag of hard candies, but you could tell he was aching to get back into you.
But you were nervous. Even if it wasn’t a real pregnancy, the thought alone had you shying away from moving past his mouth and fingers. How would it look if you got pregnant with your boss’s baby? And not just your boss, but Javier Peña? There was that fear, but the bigger one was how he would feel about it; he just didn’t seem like the ‘settling down’ type. And you also worried that he was using you for stress relief, which you were fine with, but when the Peña that grouchily lorded over the office turned into the smooth, romantic Javi with his face between your legs, you couldn’t help but fall hard for him.
You decided to make sure this scare would just stay that, and you asked your doctor for a birth control prescription.
◤━━━━━━━━━━━◥
December was an excruciatingly busy month, and the heads of the Embassy were throwing a large New Year’s Eve gala for all the American agencies in Bogota. It was being held at the Embassy, and you’d been given the task by the ladies in the office to get Javier a new tuxedo – clearly, they knew how stubborn he was the last time he needed formal wear and saw how his eating habits had affected his waistline, further filling him out. You walked into his office, carrying a new tuxedo in a garment bag over your shoulder, and shut the door behind you.
“Peña, I have your new tux for the New Years do.”, you said casually, laying the bag over the back of one of the armchairs in front of his desk, while looking at your notebook in you other hand.
“You gonna let me fuck you, Sweetheart?”
“What? Not now… I have a lot of work t – “
“No, not now.”, he said, almost sounding irritated, which was normal for him, as he stood up from behind his desk. “But are you ever going to let me fuck you again?”
You looked up from your notebook as he walked around his desk, his hands in his pockets, then looked down at you. His belly protruded more these days, as well as out the sides, and it did even more today after the lunch that he’d had with one of the other agency heads. While his tone was firm, and even slightly harsh, his eyes were soft and pleading. He gently raised his hand and moved an errant hair from your face, and he let out a sigh.
“Peña…”
“It’s Javi, baby… it’s just us in here.”
Your breath caught in your throat, and you knew he knew what he was doing. You knew he was testing you, trying to tease out either a chance to get you impaled on his dick or at least an explanation as to why you’d been dodging his advancing and settling for oral.
“Peña.”, you warned, not wanting to fall into that predicament or conversation just yet. “I have your tux for tonight. Please try it on and make sure it fits.”
You saw the flash of frustration and hurt in his eyes as his jaw tightened, dropping his hand back to his side, his voice terse and curt.
“Okay then, Sweetheart. I’ll see you tonight.”
And with that, you saw yourself out of his office.
◤━━━━━━━━━━━◥
That evening, you’d opted to wear an off the shoulder, red cocktail dress, and now that you were in the cab on the way to the gala, you wondered if you’d over done it with your outfit, hair and makeup. That feeling stayed with you as you walked up the steps to the Embassy, through the doors and into the Gala itself. The heads that turned to watch you didn’t help, so to the bar you went to give yourself some courage, comfort, or both, grabbing and downing a glass of champaign on the way there.
After your second glass of champaign and an amaretto sour with another on the way, you felt pretty loose and nothing short of a shootout could have shaken you as you hid in a quiet corner around the bar. At least, you felt that way until a hand touched your waist and an all too familiar presence filled your senses, and his warm, whiskey-laden breath washed over your neck.
“Sweetheart, you better slow down.”, Javier said harshly into your ear.
Normally, you would have jumped away from contact like that in public but being that almost everyone in attendance was at roughly the same level of intoxication and you were in a fairly private part of the room, you didn’t move from him.
You shook the nerves from your body, feeling emboldened by the alcohol in your system, and turned to face him. Looking Javier's face over, you gave him a lazy smile while wavering on your feet, and in response, he forced a smile back and held your arm firmly to keep you upright.
“Hi.”, you grinned up at him.
“Hi.”, he responded curtly.
You sucked in a breath and placed your hands on his chest, letting one slide down over the side curve of his belly.
“You look nice tonight.”
His jaw clenched and he rolled his eyes at you, then huffed out a sigh.
“So do you.” His tone remained harsh as his eyes met yours again. “Now, are you going to tell me what’s going on?”
You rolled your eyes and tried to pull away, but his hand was replaced with his arm as he held you firmly against him. Javier kept his intense and irritated gaze on you, and you felt uneasy under it.
“What the fuck is going on with you?”, he hissed.
Before you could stop yourself, the alcohol had you blurt out what had been eating away at you for the last few months in an embarrassing, rambling confession. “I thought I was pregnant but it was the flu and I didn’t think you wanted me to get pregnant, so I didn’t want you to fuck me just in case, but it’s okay now because I got birth control but then it became awkward and I didn’t know how to tell you because I don’t know what you want beyond just fucking me.”
His firm, harsh glare gave way to a blank expression. He didn’t say anything, and you could feel your face heating up when you realized what you’d just said. He’d hoped you didn’t notice the way his breath hitched because of his cock twitching at the thought of you being pregnant.
“Fuck, Peña… I’m sorry… Just forget I said anything and lets just get really drunk, and – “
“You thought you were pregnant?” The way his eyes searched yours and the way his voice dropped to a quiet hiss was not the response you were expecting.
“I had the flu, and my period was late and I - ”
“Okay... but what do you mean you don't know what I want beyond me fucking you?”
“What?”
“You think that’s all I want from you? Just to fuck you?”
Javier’s tone remained in a harsh whisper as he held you under his stern glare, but there was something else in his eyes. You didn’t know what it was, but it seemed to be growing as he stared you down. Your mouth opened and you hoped your brain would catch up and you could respond with something insightful or enlightening, but instead you froze.
“What?”
Your response made him let you go, and he pinched the bridge of his nose as he sighed, muttering to himself in Spanish. His hand went to his waist as the other pointed at you in a scolding manner as he continued to whisper harshly.
“You really think I would risk my job – and yours, for that matter – just to fuck you? You’re not that stupid!”
You narrowed your eyes and met his tone straight on.
“Well, what else was I supposed to think? You're either wanting me to suck you off or organize your day! Oh, and feed you an endless supply of candy! What else am I supposed to take from that?”
His mouth tightened and he huffed out, eyes wide in irritation.
“What the hell are you talking about? You do way more than that for me!”
“Yeah! And what about it?”
“What?!”
“What about it, Peña? How the hell am I supposed to know what else you want from me?”
You both stood, glaring at one another accusingly.
You huffed, alcohol encouraging you to say what you didn’t want to admit out loud. “I didn’t tell you because I didn’t want you to think I was trying to trap you into something that you didn’t want to be in!”
He let out a flustered cluster of words, not able to finish any of them before the next one came out, desperate to correct all the wrongs he had no idea existed until tonight. But before he could get a coherent response out, one of the other agency heads approached him, pulling Javier out from your private corner, and you watched as he gave you one final glance that said we’re not done before he was whisked away.
◤━━━━━━━━━━━◥
It was nearing midnight, and you’d spent the majority of the evening nursing drink after drink while making small talk with coworkers as your circulated the room. You’d assumed that Javier was not going to be returning to your conversation until the next time you were in his office, and you’d been officially ditched for the night. Not that you had assumed you would get his attention the whole evening, and you chided yourself for even feeling rejected. Your champagne-buzzed brain had allowed your mind to go into darker places than you would have liked while you waited on the New Year’s arrival.
Who else was he fucking? What if this was too much of a headache for him? What if he fired you over no longer wanting to fuck because you weren’t useful to him anymore? Was he that big of an asshole?
You grabbed a full flute of champagne and slammed it back like a shot of tequila.
“Jesus, Sweetheart!”
You swung around and met Javier’s eyes, softer and definitely more glazed than before; he looked just as drunk as you did. He took the flute from your hand, placing it on a passing waiter’s tray the grabbed two full ones.
“S’getting close to midnight. We gotta toast.”, he grinned at you. “An’ we gotta talk.”
He turned and walked towards the exit of the event room, and you followed as he led you to the hallway and into one of the empty offices. After the glasses were placed on the desk, he turned and wrapped his arms around you, pulling you close to him. His breath reeked of cigars and alcohol, but in that moment, you could care less.
“Peña...”, you whined softly.
“You know the rules, Sweetheart... when we’re alone, it’s Javi.”, he said softly with a smile.
“Javi - “
“That’s better.”
His lips quickly found yours and your mouths collided messily. Tongues, teeth, spit, and moans made it looks like you were devouring each other. Javier’s hand gripped the hem of your skirt, pulling it up and he shoved his hand between your legs and his face detangled from yours.
“Know how fucking hard you made me when you said you thought I’d fucked a baby in you?”
You let out a panting moan as his finger pushed your thoroughly wet thong out of the way and he teased your hole.
“You know how good your tits’ll look when you’re pregnant?”, he rasped out, arousal heavy in his voice. “You wanna know what I want from you? I want you to give me a fucking family... a home life... domesticate me, Sweetheart.”
He shoved two fingers into you, forcing a choked whine from your throat. You nodded and gripped his shoulders as he fucked you on his thick digits, his thumb nudging your clit.
“You do that for me, baby, and I’ll give you everything... I’ll even fucking marry you... just – just lemme fuck you again... lemme fuck that sweet pussy of yours... please, Sweetheart...”
“Javi!... oh, Javi... yes... please, Javi!”, you screeched, feeling yourself tipping over the edge.
“Good girl... getting me tethered making you hot, baby?... pinning me down makes this pussy sing, don’t it?... yeah, you gonna let me fuck you into the new year? Yeah? Gonna lemme fuck you into a mama?”
You came hard and before you could register what was happening, Javier pulled out his fingers and maneuvered you on your back on the floor. He got on his knees between your legs, and you sat up. Both of you panted as you frantically undid his belt and pants, made all the more cumbersome by your intoxication and his belly now hanging over his waistband. Both shoving his pants down, he fumbled with them to get them off as you grabbed his hard, aching cock and gave it a few tugs.
He groaned as he managed to get his pants around his ankles, and decided that was enough. Javier pushed you onto your back and gripped your hips, pulling your open core to him, and lined his cock up.
“Please... fuck, I need this... I need you, Javi!”
He pushed into you and groaned, “You got me, Sweetheart.”
After months of only taking his fingers and tongue, your body relished in his dick making an intrusive comeback. The sting of him stretching you out was made all the sweeter from the low, guttural moan Javier let out when he was finally seated deep within you.
His belly tightened as he pulled his hips back and then rammed them forward again, and he set an even pace.
“Fucking hell... oh fuck... I missed this... missed you... don’t-uh!... don’t even do this to me again... don’t deprive me of your perfect cunt... anything.... anything but that, Sweetheart... please...”, he panted as he rutted into you.
You moaned and panted his name him, and he shifted, hitching your thigh on his hip. He leaned over, hand planted beside your head and belly pressed into your middle.
Wrapping your arm around his shoulders, you dug your heel into his lower back, trying to egg on his thrusts.
“Harder... Javi baby, please, harder!”, you begged, chest heaving.
He pulled back again and pushed you back onto the floor and shoved your knees into your chest. Javier looked down at you, your pussy open for him and your eyes begging him, and he smiled.
“So fucking perfect for me... how the fuck did I not let you tame me before?”, he groaned with a grin, pushing his cock back into you and leaning forward. He began a brutal, harsh pace that he put all his weight into – and there was definitely more of him since the last time he fucked you. His cock slammed into you, bruising your cervix and making your eyes roll back into your head.
“That’s it, Sweetheart... fuck, your sweet little cunt missed me... j-just sucking me – fuck!... sucking me in...”, he grunted.
From the other room, you could hear the crows counting down.
10...
“Fuck... sweetheart.... m’close!”
9...
“Javi... don’t stop, baby...”
8...
“Oh fuck!”
7...
“Right there!... yes!”
6...
“Ungh... fuck... yes....”
5...
“Keep going... yesyesyesyesyes!”
4...
“That’s it... baby, that’s... fuck! Where...?”
3...
“Ah-oh fuck!... in me... come in me!”
2...
“That’s my girl... fuck... yes... Unghhhh!”
1...
Javier collapsed onto you, and you held him. You were both panting heavily and sweating, and you thought how if you were to walk out of this room right now and be seen, no one would have a doubt as to what you’d done in there. And for the first time, whether it was the alcohol or what Javier had said, the thought of being caught didn't scare you. He pressed his face into your neck and sighed, still breathing heavily, and turning your head, you kissed his cheek softly.
He raised his head and nudged his nose against yours and you both huffed out panting, soft laughs.
You finally found the courage and asked, “Did you mean it?”
He nodded, still catching his breath. “Yeah... yes, Sweetheart. I’m y-... you’re mine.”
Getting up off the floor, you adjusted your panties and dress, then looked at Javier. “Does this mean-”
“You might have to quit or get reassigned, yeah.”, he interjected with a small frown, sucking in his stomach and doing up his pants.
“No...”, you grinned, handing him a flute of champagne. “I was going to ask if I should stop taking my birth control pills. I don’t give a shit about my job anymore.”
He let out a loud laugh and took the glass. “Have it your way then. You’re fired and we’re going house hunting when we’re sober.”
You smiled and nodded, clinking your glass to his, and said before downing the golden liquid, “Agreed.”
‧̍̊·̊‧̥°̩̥˚̩̩̥͙°̩̥‧̥·̊‧̍̊ ♡ °̩̥˚̩̩̥͙°̩̥ ·͙*̩̩͙˚̩̥̩̥*̩̩̥͙·̩̩̥͙*̩̩̥͙˚̩̥̩̥*̩̩͙‧͙ °̩̥˚̩̩̥͙°̩̥ ♡ ‧̍̊·̊‧̥°̩̥˚̩̩̥͙°̩̥‧̥·̊‧̍̊
TAGLIST: @theywhowriteandknowthings @harryleatherfit @toxicanonymity @harriedandharassed @neverwheremoonchild @rebel-held @beee-haw @nevergoingbacknowshine @idolatrybarbie @v4vayha @lalocitos @xdaddysprincessxx @deathsholywaterr @heareball @lyssramscal @wintrwinchestr @blackfemalenerd @southernbe @starkeydaviss @noxturnalpascal @not-a-unique-snowflake-blog
#pedro pascal#pedro pascal characters#pedro pascal fanfiction#pedro pascal tummy#chubby!javier pena#chubby javier peña rights !!!#narcos au#javier pena fic#javier pena narcos#no y/n#THOT TANK#beefro is sweating#beefro's bistro#🥩#narcos fanfiction#javier peña#javier pena x reader#javier pena fanfiction#ao3 fanfic#a03 fanfic#ao3 writer
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Your Home
Toji Zenin x Reader
Warning: Suggestive content ahead. Image not mine credit goes to the artist.
After spending weeks on your damn office project, it was finally done today. You were lowkey happy but still wared out because of it. As you entered your home, you found the lights were dim, as if your husband was already sleeping by now.
Making your way towards the shower after getting rid of your clothing, you heard the water dripping on the inside, indicating his presence there. Before you could have stopped yourself, you had already opened the door, to find your husband Toji sitting peacefully in the bathtub. He got startled when the doorknob clicked but looking at you he relaxed as an easy smirk made it’s way on his already handsome face, you blushed at the tempting site of him in front of you.
As water droplets were dripping down his wet raven hair, you watched him closely, taking in his messy form and finding yourself lost for words.
Being busy didn’t gave you any time to be with him for about a month now and you had missed him a lot over all this days. Seeing him like this only fueled it more. So much that you didn’t even realise that you were standing in front of him in just your undergarments, making his smirk more and more devilish by each passing second.
Toji: Wanna join, sweetheart??
You didn’t say anything and got rid of your remaining garments before joining him in the warm bath. The hot water hit your skin quickly calming down your tense muscles. Seeing you visibly relaxed, Toji smiled warmly at your slumping figure. You both just sat there without saying anything and just staring at each other, as your eyes drank his intoxicating presence beside you. You had missed this, you had missed the small staring contest you both always had, you had missed him. You just sat there allowing yourself to get drunk in his presence. He was intoxicating, he was your drug and you were his.
After relaxing for a while, you scooted closer to him and sat on his inviting lap. His eyes slightly widened before he quickly pulled you into an embrace as you relaxed in his touch. The single water droplet that dripped down from his forehead to neck before getting lost over his chest, you watched it silently wishing it was you instead. Toji caught you staring at him for the nth time today before smirking and capturing your lips in his soft ones. You hungrily returned the kiss as a starved women.
From there things escalated quickly and before you knew it, you were pinned under him as he stared down at you asking to go further. You just nodded mindlessly as there was nothing other than him that you wanted so much. You smirked as he leaned over you and got lost in your mesmerising eyes before going towards your neck to give hickeys and soft kisses and licks. You were enjoying all this attention from him, it was exactly what you needed at the moment, and he was somehow quite good at knowing exactly what you needed.
That night you didn’t got much sleep but it’s not like you cared about it anyways when you had got something much better than that. Toji laying in your arms was the best feeling ever. You decided to take a casual leave for the entire week just to spend some quality time with your husband and asked him to do the same, to which he gladly agreed. The next few days were some of the best days of your life as you spent time with your husband watching movies, shopping, cooking together, drinking coffee in the evening over your rooftop, playing cat and mouse chase games and finally fucking almost every night.
When finally your both’s short vacation ended, you both went to work next day all covered in each other’s marks. None of you bothered to hide them, which indeed get you both quite the stares from your coworkers, but you didn’t mind as you completed your work early so that you can return back to your home, Toji.
#toji x y/n#toji fushiguro x reader#Toji zenin x reader#jjk fushiguro#suggestive#Toji Fushiguro#Toji x reader
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|| Justify ||
Poor is the man
Whose pleasures depend
On the permission of another
Love me, that's right, love me
I want to be your baby
Pairing: Matt Murdock X female Reader
Rating: E 18+ very much MAXIMUM SMUT, Shibari rope bondage, religious tropes, black suit (mmfff), fuck-me-in-half style sex, Matt Murdock's All Night Long Fuckathon, multiple orgasms, overstim, p in v, cream pie, oral, cumplay, oh- is that a breeding kink? Mayyyybe.
A/n: if you fancy you can have a listen to part of the inspiration for this, of course it's Madonna - Justify My Love. It's a bit long, sorry for any mistakes if they're terrible let me know, um.. nothing much else to say really, enjoy?
You waited alone in the office for him to arrive, idly tidying away the detritus of the day to pass the time. You were on edge, excited, and if you were completely honest, a little bit nervous.
He came in through the window and you almost didn't hear him, your body jerking in surprise and heart hammering a hundred times a second as his hand slipped so casually around your waist. You could feel him smirking, lips warm into your neck as he brushed your hair aside and planted a soft kiss just under your ear.
"Matt..."
"No. You asked for the other guy." his tone shot straight through you and you released an extremely shaky exhale before breathing him in. He smelled of the cool night air, of the city. Of rooftops, alleys and blood. Fights won, prevented, and lost.
His hands go to your shoulders, easily sliding the loose straps of your dress aside and you looked down almost helplessly as it fell down watching it pool on the floor around your feet.
"Are you ready, sweetheart?"
You shouldn't have been surprised at how beautifully he worked the ropes, how his fingers danced across your skin setting you alight with anticipation as he prepared you. Coils wrapped tidily around your wrists like crimson cuffs with a strong loop emerging from between them. Rows of neat knots decorated your body in a deceptively simple and attractive harness. Every single twist, wrap and knot was strategically placed for your pleasure, either indirectly by pressing against a pressure point, or more obviously, like the two strands that crisscross and diagonally frame around your clit. Every time you squirm against your bindings they give you a delicate kiss of stimulation and no more, just enough to have you lightly panting and pliant for him. You perch on one of the office chairs, the ropes wrapping your thighs softly pressing into your skin.
It was well into the evening of course, the main office door was locked but he had made sure your friends were busy just in case. You wouldn't have wanted to give Karen or Foggy an accidental view of you in this particular state. In fact you had almost said no to Matt before you acquiesced to his request for it to be here, he was very persuasive. With that mouth, and those hands he could almost get you to agree to anything.
Of course, you also had requests.
Actually, just the one.
"The Devil." you'd asked him, "I want him to take my confession."
Matt's mouth had gone dry. "I uh, hear the church can do that, see, they have these things called priests..." he half jokes but he's curious.
"Please."
"Alright." Matt's interest was doubly piqued. After all, what could you say to the Devil that you wouldn't say to him?
And so here you were. And here he was. You had to admit this was not quite what you were expecting when he decided to take his turn with the ropes.
Exposed. That was one word for how you both felt and looked, the blood red silken fibres your only garment while you were very much on display. But, this was his church and you were serving as his altar. He leaned up against the desk opposite as you shifted again.
"How long has it been since your last confession?" His voice is dark, dripping golden honey, rolling over you like liquid temptation.
"I... don't remember. Too long." Your tongue flicks out across your lips. "Many, many sins ago..."
You see a muscle in his jaw tic under the skin.
"It's okay, you can unburden yourself now, to me."
You take a deep breath.
"I have... thoughts."
Matt smirks, unsurprised. "As do we all from time to time. What is it that troubles you about them in particular?"
You rub your legs together, squirming in the chair. The rope fibres swish softly, almost musically, to Matt's ears.
"They're... impure. They concern a man."
There's silence for a few moments before he coaxes you to continue.
"God is always listening, sweetheart."
You swallow. "He's a good man, he cares so much for others, more than he does himself. He gives so much. He makes me want to be a better person."
Matt tilts his head to the side. "That sounds admirable?"
"Yes," you nod, "he stands up for people who cannot help themselves and seeks justice for them."
"But?" Matt preempts.
"Sometimes things don't have a happy ending, sometimes he can't stop the bad things from happening. Through no fault of his own. But he carries his own sins, he punishes himself with them and it hurts me to see him like that."
You watch him, wondering if you've crossed a line as he turns his head away, guilt almost seeming to darken the room.
"I know I can't change those things, but I can help him deal with them, maybe help him forget? I love him, as anyone could. I admit that it isn't always easy, real love never is, but I am so in love with him, with all of my heart, my soul. I want him to know that."
Although he knows you're talking about him, Matt starts to feel untethered.
"Then, how could your thoughts be impure?"
He draws his focus and holds on to the steady beating of your heart in the silence before you speak again and he's glad of it, as what you say next has him burning alive.
You sigh, closing your eyes as your confession starts flowing free and unbidden from your lips.
"I yearn, I ache for him. God, I can't find the words to describe how much I ache for this man... I want to take on all of his sin, to drown in it. I'm not unsatisfied, far from it, he gives me so much. But I know he holds back, I know I can take more, give him more of me..."
Matt can feel your body temperature rising, and the sound of your pulse is thudding through his skull. He can't help the shudder that wracks his body as you suddenly slide yourself off the chair, dropping to your knees in supplication in front of him.
"I need him so badly, you can't know how much."
His hands curl into fists and he's biting the inside of his cheek as he fights with the urge to devour you, but you're not finished with your admissions. You bow your head, and there's the barest whisper of a prayer from your lips that could only ever be for him to hear.
"God forgive me, for I know there's no other heaven than what I feel when he's inside me."
What the hell did he do to deserve you? To deserve this? He's interrogating himself but there's no answer. Blood is flowing like lava through his body, most of it heading south leaving him almost dizzy.
Leaning down, his fingers touch to the side of your face, sliding along to hook gently under your jaw and tip your head up. Your eyes drink him in. His are still shrouded with black cloth, his head tilts minutely to the side waiting, listening. The slick black shirt clings like a second skin to every muscle of his torso, it moves with his shoulders and chest as his breathing comes quick and shallow, adrenaline from the night still simmering in his veins. You don't miss the way his cock strains against those tight black pants.
"You want to drown in my sins, darling?"
You watch dumbstruck as he unzips his fly and pulls his thick cock out, holding it just above you making you squirm again.
He strokes himself a few times, slow. Your pupils grow wide as you gaze up him, watching his mouth as he parts his lips, just a touch, enough to let a thick drip of saliva fall straight down from his bottom lip. It lands neatly on the head of his cock, dripping around it and stretching, dripping down again in a connecting string which hits the flattened surface of your protruding tongue as you open your mouth for it. Matt's eyes roll into the back of his head as he hears, feels, and smells all of this unfolding, visualising the whole scene, his cock throbbing as his grip on it tightens.
"Fuck... baby-"
Any further words are lost into a slur of murmured expletives as you slide your mouth on him, spit slick and hot over the velvety soft skin. You rock your hips as you work him over, moving back and forth as the carefully positioned rope framing your cunt is teasing, beckoning you towards pleasure of your own. You bring your bound hands up around the base of his cock, fingers brushing at his dark curls and caressing his balls drawing a beautiful sound from deep in his chest as you attempt to suck the very soul out of him. Your throat gradually relaxes taking him deeper, and you feel him fighting the primal jerk of his hips, holding back as you moan around him.
You can't have that.
Pulling back slowly, your tongue drags underneath his shaft all the way to the tip where a glistening drop of precum leaks and spreads over the surface of your taste buds like a blot of wicked ink.
"Let go." you tell him.
His fingers twitch at his sides, chest heaving and he rips off the mask. "I- I just don't want to hurt you."
"You could never. I asked for the devil and that's what you're gonna give me. Let him out."
As you engulf him once more it doesn't take long for his hips to start moving in short thrusts. His fingers tentatively touch to your hair, gently sliding around to hold and guide your head and you groan your approval allowing him to take what he needs.
What he wants.
You're driving him insane already with your pretty mouth and tongue, his hand gravitates to your throat, fingers spreading as he fucks your mouth proper. God, he can feel his cock moving inside, feel the warm spit leaking and dripping down your chin, can smell your sweet cunt soaking the twists of ropes between your thighs. Fuck. He can't help himself, rutting harder now as he thinks about how you crave this, growling as it makes you moan louder and reverberate through him, makes gorgeous tracks of tears run down your cheeks and mix with the drool spilling out of your mouth. Your hands are massaging, pulling at his balls, the slightest tease of your fingers at his ass.
Oh goddd- oh fuck- he's gonna cum.
You grip him tightly as you feel him start to shake, hear his stuttering harsh breath as his orgasm builds its way right up from the base of his spine. You look up as his pretty mouth goes slack and his eyelids flutter closed. You want to grab his ass and force him to you but the bindings make it too awkward so you settle for gently squeezing his balls and humming around his cock, satisfied as you hear and feel his feral grunt and his hot release hits the back of your throat, coating it and your tongue in thick spurts.
You swallow him down, lick him clean, and slowly let him go. He's gripping the desk behind him, shaking. "oh god." he whispers, a prayer.
"It's just us." you say softly, smirking.
After a few moments he manages to unscramble his brain and pulls you to your feet wiping the mix of tears, cum, and spit from your face with a tissue from the desk. Then he's lucid, stripping himself of the rest of his clothes and boots, guiding you backwards towards the door, careful not to let you trip as he pushes you up against it. You try to withhold a grin of satisfaction, you've done it now, no going back. Turned the key in the lock and let this thing loose.
He casts the loop at your hands around the coat hook on the back of the office door. You shiver with anticipation as he takes his time just tracing his fingertips over your body, down your neck to your collarbone, tickling down the inside of your arm, palming your breasts, skimming lightly over your hip and trailing off at your upper thigh.
"Matt..."
"Shh." He soothes, with the black of his armour gone, all the rough kisses of the night on his body are on display.
You let loose a sigh as he leans into you, skin to skin, feeling almost every part of him already melding with you, buzzing with urgent desire. His teeth graze against your throat, you lean back on the door, your head gently thunking against it as he nips and marks you, echoing his own bruises.
"Are you gonna absolve me of all this, sweetheart?"
His voice has the hairs on the back of your neck standing up and you moan softly as he sucks more red bruising kisses into your skin.
"All my lust? My greed?"
"Yes."
Being anchored and held by your wrists meant that you could easily be turned, and that's exactly what he does, quickly spinning you around to face the door. He drags his fingertips down the center of your spine, pulling at the criss-crossing ropes and your back arches instinctually at his touch, hips tilting and pushing your ass up into his hands as they slide around to squeeze it.
"Eager, aren't you?"
Matt grabs your hips, pulls them back towards him and you moan feeling him hardening again between the cleft of your ass as he lazily grinds against you. One of his hands slips around to your front splaying over your public bone, his two middle fingers pressing into your slit.
"Mine." he rasps, rubbing the fingers through your wetness and over your clit making you keen. He slips them inside you, "yours..." you hiss as Matt starts to pump them in and out.
"So tight,"
"Yeah..."
"So... fucking... wet," he drawls.
Your patience for teasing is wearing thin. "Matty-"
"Spread your legs for me angel, your devil's gonna take you to heaven."
You barely have time to obey his command before the head of his cock is teasing and pressing into your entrance and you both groan in unison as he's filling you all the way to the hilt. He rests his chin between your neck and shoulder, his other hand dragging across your pretty harness and toying with your breasts. He's as close to you as can be, his breath ghosting over the marks he made as you relax into his intimate embrace.
Your own breath is punched out of you as he snaps his hips suddenly, roughly, your wrists jerking on the hook and stressing the door in its frame as he sets a brutal pace.
"M-matt!" you yelp as he flicks a finger against your clit, but he does not relent.
"Like that?"
You moan, head nodding loosely as all you can do is lose yourself to the incomparable sensation of him inside you. He wrenches at the red ropes at your hips, pulling you onto his cock and hitting so deep inside you wonder just how long he's been holding himself back. He's feral tonight, focused on just how much you can take, how far he can push you and you're high on it.
He keeps driving into you, rattling the door with each thrust. His lips brush the shell of your ear, "you feel so fucking good, always so good baby."
All you can do is moan in response, letting your head fall back against his shoulder as his hand returns between your thighs, intent on blowing your mind. There's nothing patient about the way he's touching you, nothing teasing like he wants to draw this out. He's set on pulling as much pleasure and as many orgasms as he can out of you while you're restrained. The way you had given him permission for this was still burning bright in his mind and gut.
He gathers your slick, spreading it all over you and easing the friction of his rough fingertips on your clit. Your whimpers and breathy little moans he pulls from you are so addictive. Matt grunts as you clench around him and that only serves to make him speed up his fingers, still fucking that perfect cock into you like it was his only purpose. Heat is curling up like a muscular snake in your core, tightening with every thrust, every precise and sensual movement, and Matt is well aware.
"C'mon sweetie, I want to feel it."
Your eyes are screwed shut, lips parted as you start to pant heavily, tension almost at breaking point and then, with a simple devious whisper he sends you over the edge.
"there's a good girl..."
You shatter, white hot pleasure unfurling right through you as you cum, pussy fluttering and making Matt grit his teeth in a salacious grin but he just keeps going, fucking you all the way through it until you're whining at him.
He pulls out, the loss almost burns but he turns you around to face him, hikes one of your legs up and pushes right back in again. You'd cry out from the overstimulation, but you're so turned on you don't want him to stop. He lifts you up easily to wrap your legs around his hips holding you up against the door that's threatening to come off it's fucking hinges if he gets his way. The silk fibres around your thighs rub against his sensitive skin as you squeeze but he doesn't give a damn, he just wants to see how many times he can get you off before he taps out.
It's different now you're facing him, he's going slower and you're grateful for the slight reprieve. He noses along your jaw, one hand gripping onto your thigh and the other braced against the door. Soft kisses land on your cheek, the corner of your mouth, and finally your lips. You let him in, let his tongue lick lazily between them savouring the slight salty tang of sweat from his upper lip mixed with the unmistakable taste of him.
You're feeling it now, past the point of too much and back into building pleasure. The roll of his hips is delicious and you don't hide it, couldn't if you tried. You're annoyed that your hands are bound as all you want to do right now is squeeze his beautiful ass, maybe scratch your nails down his back...
"You alright?" he asks, far too sweetly for your current situation, "too much?"
"God, Matt," your laugh almost comes out as a moan, "no, you're just too fucking good at this!"
He smiles and you tilt your head up to catch his lips as if you could eat it. "Mm you're so pretty too." you say as you pull away letting your head fall back again.
He laughs, it's devilish. "Shh, you'll make me blush sweetheart. Now where were we..."
Slivers of tingling pleasure rip up and down your spine as he slows his hips, fucking you with long, hard strokes that have your eyes rolling back into your head. A second climax is steadily creeping up on you as he manages somehow to grind in just the right way to hit that sweet spot. Your bottom lip trembles as the heat flares up and up, Matt tugs on it with his teeth, nipping it making it swell and then soothing it with kitten licks. It's more than you can stand.
"m'close... don't stop-"
He grins, "if you can take more I've got no intention of stopping..."
The intensity of your orgasm is so much higher this time and the slow sure rhythm of Matt's hips causes it to surge over you like a giant wave. You arch away from the door as you cum, broken quavering moans filling the office as your body sags against his and he lets you down.
He unhooks you and carries you to the desk carefully sitting you on it. Taking your wrists in his hands he gently unties them, rubbing his thumbs across the marks, bringing them up to his lips to kiss. You roll them a couple of times before pulling him to you for a kiss.
"thank you." you murmur, just before his hands scoop under your ass, pulling you to sit at the edge of the desk.
"Don't thank me just yet." he husks and you mewl as he pushes your legs apart sinking down to the floor between them. His tongue traces over the soaked fibres surrounding your cunt and then he's fucking his tongue inside. Your hands swing backwards to brace yourself as you lean back and let him eat you out, you've got no choice. You've barely come down from the last orgasm, he won't let you, just keeps pushing and pushing you up until you're a dumb shaking mess at the mercy of his mouth. Tongue swirling around your swollen clit, crying out when he sucks at it sharply. You crash backwards on the desk as he just won't stop, your hands flying to his head, ploughing your fingers into his hair and tugging as he's burying his face into your pussy. He moans so deeply into you the vibrations along with his sinful mouth make you buck against his face, pens and office supplies falling off onto the floor around you as you chase yet another high.
"Oh fuuuck!"
You scream as he sucks this one out of you hard it almost hurts.
Lying there prone and breathless, when you finally have enough energy to open your eyes he's standing there between your legs, stroking his cock. He may have already cum once but it looks so hard and red like he's going to explode any second. He leans forward to lick up the curve of your breast and suck your nipple in his mouth making you squeal.
"One more baby, just one more and I'm done. Promise." He smacks the side of your thigh and shifts closer.
You whine, you're so fucked out already. "I don't know... if I can.."
He lines up and presses his cock into your hot, wet core with a growl, manoeuvring your legs just where he wants them. "Yes you can sweetheart, I know it, c'mon."
You're so tired, you just lie there and take what he's giving, he presses your legs back towards you chest as he fucks you harder than ever before. The noises you can hear are obscene and it's driving Matt spare, hammering into you and making the desk screech it's way along the floor. It's too much, it's not enough, it's too much.
His hand claws into the desk by your head, his breath hot and fierce at your neck. Open mouthed kisses drunkenly search for your mouth as he knows he's close, teeth and tongues clashing as he grunts into it. He grasps for the edge of the desk, buckling over you, contorting, howling as he cums spilling every single drop he has deep inside your abused cunt. His hips stutter and he bites into your shoulder as he gives you absolutely everything he has. You hold him as best you can, wrapping your legs around him as he slumps against you panting, running your hands up and down his back you collapse under the weight of him, your head hanging off the end of the desk.
Eventually he slowly pushes himself up and slips out of you, bracing himself on the desk between your legs. He can sense it, smell the mixture of your cum dripping out of you and he-
just
cant
help himself.
You feel his fingers stroking up your sweaty inner thigh, and you're twitching as he gathers up the leaking mess on his fingers and pushes it back inside you.
"M-maaatt! Wha-!" You gasp and try to clamp your legs shut but he prises them open wedging his elbow and forearm between your knees so he can keep fucking his cum back into your pussy.
"Mmm, such a fucking good girl for me," he purrs as he crooks his fingers, rubbing at the front of your walls. "think you deserve another."
You buck up off the desk. "No, Matt I CAN'T! Please... you p-promised- fuck!"
Matt just gives you that trademark smirk of his, curling and fucking his filthy fingers and making you shake.
You don't know how but he wrings it out of you like it's the simplest thing for him. And it is, you've made him feel whole after all. Made him feel he can be his true self with you and that you'd never punish him for that.
In this act was the merging of his two lives and you were the beautiful silken rope that tied them together.
Okay, I am absolutely spent. I love you.
Tags: @saintmurd0ck @mindidjarin @peterman-spideyparker @pastafossa @mattmurdocksscars @mattmurdockspainkink @marvelswh0re
@hellskitchenswhore @pedrito-friskito @sweetieswiftie @briefcasejuice @shedaresthedevil @freshabogados @insanelyobsessedwithdilfs @e-dubbc11 @father4giveme @idrinkcoffeeandobsess @imperfxctly-me @stress--relief
#matt murdock x reader#matt murdock x you#matt murdock smut#daredevil smut#daredevil x f!reader#matt murdock x f!reader#stef writes#matt murdock x female reader#daredevil x female reader
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A/N: what, no…no I don’t have a problem…again...I don’t know what you’re talking about. This is Instagram’s fault...again. Also I just…am really fond of the wearing significant other’s clothing…especially if said s/o is like…taller and bigger so when the smaller person wears it, it’s cute and wholesome…also I really dig the sweatshirt Miguel wears in the recordings with Gabriella, I like long-sleeved shirts in general but between the cool colors and the collar…I just really like it and want one in my own size lmao and just the overall concept art of him in casual wear makes me wanna give him his domestic life back rip
Trigger Warning: nothing explicit, just some teasing and touching
Word Count: 805
Miguel O'Hara x Reader - Something Borrowed
Miguel was absent all day at the Spider Society Headquarters and instead of moping and groaning about not having him around to mess with, you opted to be productive.
You gathered up all your clothes in the hamper and began taking off the clothes you wore now. Just so you had most of your wardrobe clean and available…until you noticed you have nothing else to change into.
Oops.
Your eyes darted between the clothes you discarded and your shared closet. You glance back to the closet and see a familiar blue and gray long-sleeved sweatshirt. The tiny ding of a lightbulb went off in your head.
Maybe, just maybe, you could still mess with your husband when he got home.
You snatched the sweatshirt off the hanger with a delighted grin on your face. Once you got the garment over your head, you couldn’t help but laugh.
The size difference was pretty hysterical. The end of the shirt went past your knees, and your arms and hands didn’t even make it to the cuff of the sleeves. You shrugged, bringing your head in, and giggled. You felt like a turtle shrinking its head back into its shell with how wide and tall the collar was.
When your face was buried inside the collar, your musings stopped. Your nose caught the homely and hearty scent of Miguel. Your body tingled as you wrapped your arms around yourself, trying to feel a sliver of warmth that Miguel’s body naturally radiates. You longed for his arms to be around you instead of your own.
You took a deep breath and exhaled. You released yourself from your hold and went back to the tasks at hand.
You hummed around the house. Twirling, dancing, and sliding around freely. Openly enjoying yourself while you finally managed to mark some to-dos off your list.
You got laundry started, dishes were put away, had a small internal conflict about dusting away the cobwebs that were being inhabited by a couple of spiders (you put them outside after a jerk flight or fight reflex).
You were so wrapped up in your chores and mini-concert that you didn’t notice someone entering the front door.
Miguel trudged in, exhausted, but surprised at seeing you sway around the house. Amused at the sight and you being distracted, he crossed his arms and leaned against the front door. Just waiting to see if you would notice him.
However, after watching you for a moment, he noticed something else too that didn’t click into his tired mind immediately.
“Is that my shirt?”
Your heart nearly leaped out of your chest along with the shocked shrill you screamed.
“What the hell?! How long have you been standing there?”
“I think I asked a question first.”
“Miguel!”
“All right, all right, like five-ten minutes tops.”
“Somehow I don’t believe you, and I don’t have spidey senses.”
“Neither do I, mi cariño."
"Yeah, but you have heightened senses. I don't, so you shouldn't scare me!" You exclaimed as you playfully smacked his chest.
As you got closer, Miguel’s eyes drifted up and down your figure.
“You are wearing my shirt.” He remarked, answering his question.
You stood back and looked down, you were so busy you almost forgot your little stunt.
“Uh…yeah, uh laundry…I had to do laundry.” You answered plainly like the reason was simple.
“And you had nothing else?” Miguel murmured as his eyelids lowered.
“Nothing. I figured you wouldn't mind me borrowing it for the night." You shrugged innocently.
Miguel wrapped his arms around your waist, pulling you closer to him. The palm of your hands rested on his chest.
He hummed. "Nope, don't mind at all."
You smiled up at him, you stood up on the tip of your toes and wrapped your arms around his neck. Even with the slight comfort his shirt gave you, nothing compared to actually having him close to you.
You leaned in and your lips met in a soft sweet kiss. Miguel's grip tightened around your frame as his hands roamed your body and squeezed whatever skin he could grip. Which made him aware of something else.
He gently pulled away from your lips, causing you to look up at him confused.
"Are…are you wearing…just my shirt?"
Miguel's grip tightened unconsciously when you bit your bottom lip.
"Mmmaayybee…"
Miguel tilted his head to the side and raised his eyebrow.
"Oh, you can't judge me. You put a lot of faith into a hologram suit every day in public."
Miguel chuckled as he grabbed under your thighs and lifted you off the ground, wrapping your legs around his waist.
"I'm not saying anything, mi cariño. There's something I would…much rather do instead."
Which was the last thing he said before rushing you to your shared bedroom; while your laughter echoed through the home.
#ri writes#lemme know if y'all want a part 2#it could happen tehe#miguel o'hara x reader#spiderman 2099 x reader#atsv miguel o'hara x reader#atsv spiderman 2099 x reader#atsv x reader#across the spiderverse x reader
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